Morks-watermelon - A Mess

— 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴

the lowdown — the one where neteyam is shackled by appearances, but you couldn’t care less. 

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 2.2k

the tags & warnings — language ,, misunderstandings (i love this trope and this is a hill i’ll die on i’m SORRY) ,, neteyam’s friends can be shitty, but mean well ,, reader just wants to love up on her boy :(

the notes — based off of this request! this is another addition to my neteyam content, but ik some of you guys are itching for some other characters, so i'm probably gonna steer in another direction & write for kiri & tsireya so if that interests you, stay tuned! <3

(not proofread well lmao)

masterlist

Neteyam is many things; a kind spirit, a fierce warrior, a loving brother, a diligent son. But Neteyam is also new to love. Not quite new to being in love, but learning the act of loving you. 

He’d found so many ways to express his heart’s desire; written notes on scraps, gentle smiles, searing eyes. It was one thing in particular, though, that made his mouth dry, made his brain nearly short circuit, and it was your need to be in his space. 

Even after many days that bleed into weeks and meld into months, you make his cheeks warm with every lingering pass of your fingertips, make his stomach knot with every fluttering kiss to his skin. 

It’d been a pleasant surprise at first, but now it was a need, an absolute necessity to have you fused to him like a second skin. Your touch was a tacit word and he was learning to speak your language. 

The two of you together was normalcy and the clan members were more than delighted to know that the olo’eyktan’s son was lucky in love. But there were teasing whispers, lilting voices in the background that made something uncomfortable pinch the back of his brain. 

His skin would light up with equal parts want and embarrassment when you’d hang loosely around him during evening meals and the villagers his age would giggle and murmur behind their palms about the two of you. Didn’t help that you were an oblivious thing, or maybe you didn’t care, when you’d hold his hand in your own, occasionally bringing his fingertips to your lips during casual conversation. 

And he didn’t mind loving you endlessly when you were just two souls enjoying each other, but he can’t help but tense when his eyes wander and he sees watchful gazes. 

“Mighty warrior is a needy one, huh?” 

His friends, comrades since childhood, surround him on a sunny afternoon. Neteyam pauses his actions, arrow in the midst of a sharpening. 

His spine goes rigid and his eyes narrow. 

“What are you on about?” he asks, jaw locking. 

“Even in the moments you aren’t with her, you’re thinking about her,” his friend Marin says with a shiteating grin. 

“Don’t even,” Neteyam warns, eyes rolling as he continues with sharpening his arrows. 

“Oh, come on,” another one of his friends guffaws, twining a new bow string. “You haven’t said a word since we sat down.” 

And he wishes he could form a solid argument, but you are on his mind, all-consuming as always. Can’t help it when he’s pined after you for years and only recently found the courage to act on his heart. 

“Maybe I just don’t want to engage with you assholes,” Neteyam bites, fist tightening around his dagger. 

“Yeah, because if you open your mouth, all you’ll be able to talk about is my girl this and my girl that,” Marin teases. “Who knew future olo’eyktan was so clingy.” 

“Yeah, like it’s me who’s clingy,” he grunts, resuming the task at hand with much more fervor. 

“Is it not?” Marin challenges. “Oh, ________, my love, look at these flowers I picked for you.” 

The blood is rushing to his ears as his friends howl with laughter. 

“Syulang, I wrote you twelve pages declaring my love even though we’ve seen each other thrice since last eclipse.” The taunting makes him seethe, makes the feeling of discomfort surface all over again and the words are spilling before he can plug the dam. 

“Of course it’s not me,” Neteyam scoffs. “I keep my composure, but it’s her that insists on constantly reminding the village that we’re together. If I had it my way, nothing would have changed from when we were friends.”

It’s a lie and he knows it, his friends know it. But you, you who staggers outside of the training circle at the sound of multiple voices don’t know it. 

It’s like a swift strike to the gut, one that squashes every butterfly that tickled the lining of your stomach on your way to fetch the very man who’d held your heart and crushed it all the same. 

Your satchel, heavy with fruits and snacks for after your evening swim with Neteyam, weighs heavy across your front as you debate whether or not you should be listening to a conversation that is obviously not meant for your ear. But it’s like you’re rooted to the soil beneath you. 

“Yeah, okay,” Marin chuffs, obviously not convinced. “If you’re so bothered by your dynamic now, there isn’t any reason why you wouldn’t say anything. She’s your second skin and you love it.” 

He does, he thinks to himself. 

Of course he doesn’t, you realize, horrified, the thousand and one times your hands would find his body and he’d tense or shy away replaying like a horror reel in your brain. 

“I potentially hold the future of this clan in my hands,” Neteyam says. “It is my duty to endure all things whether or not I enjoy it.”

It’s like you’re doused with water so cold at the violent shiver that shakes your spine. 

Just another thing to endure, you mull over in your brain as the barge of emotions brims dangerously near the surface. 

You break from the edge of the clearing and you’re off. 

Something is off. 

And Neteyam is ashamed to admit that it takes him obnoxiously long to notice. Maybe it’s because he’s caught up in his duties, or maybe for once in his life, he isn’t worrying about meddlesome gazing, but the shift is imperceptible. 

You’re still you, so aching beautiful and devastatingly radiant, but something is different. He doesn’t pinpoint it until he’s bidding you a farewell, leaning into your space to plant a kiss on your lips when you ease away to beam at him nervously instead. 

His brows furrow when you wave, breaking away from him to scurry home. 

He thinks it’s a one off, something he shouldn’t read too much into, but he can’t help it. Not when he’s so used to your touch, so used to feeling the pads of your fingers denting his skin and the scald of your lips. 

He tries again a few nights later, after finally getting you alone. He’d been busy assisting his father in planning a raid at the end of the month and you were busy trying to put as much distance between the two of you.

“You’re awfully quiet, bug,” Neteyam observes softly, chin dipping under the water as he swims closer to where you float on the surface, eyes closed. 

You only hum, pleading silently that he’ll let it pass. But when his fingers skim your navel, you’re jerking away from him, settling so that a berth of glittering blue separates the two of you. 

He forces a laugh, wading closer to you as you seemingly shrink. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks when he sees something like discomfort flitting over your expression, concern eclipsing his features as he reaches forward to grab you by your arm. 

“Nothing…” you swallow, staring at the rounded stones beaded through the necklace you made him early on in your budding relationship.

He doesn’t buy it, tilting your chin up with deft fingers. 

“Hey, hey,” he says softly, searching your face for a tell. “Talk to me.” 

“Nothing,” you breathe, peeling away from him to wade back towards the embankment. “It’s nothing.” 

He watches as you hoist yourself up from the river, heart in his throat. 

He cracks when the others seem to notice, slowly catching onto the fact that the usually doting and loving partner of the olo’eyktan’s son is surprisingly distant. It’s during an evening meal, villagers surrounding the multiple fires, when it comes to a head. 

There’s an unusual space between your bodies as you chat with Kiri and a few others and he can’t help but close the gap as something akin to desperation washes over him. His fingers brush the span of your shoulders to pull you into his chest, lips a hairsbreadth from your temple before your palm snakes between your bodies and plants on his chest to nudge him away. 

He bites the inside of his cheek in annoyance as Marin and his other friends share knowing glances. 

While he boils silently, you ache to tell him that you don’t mean it, that there’s nothing more you’d want than to spend every waking moment in his arms, but that day in the clearing is a humiliating reminder that Neteyam is shackled to his honor and if it means making you happy despite his discomfort, he’d endure it all. 

You hate it, hate that he’d let you feel like things were alright leading up to this moment, that he’d suffer at the expense of mocking and badgering from his friends. Makes you feel embarrassed, sorry, that you’d read the two of you all wrong. 

You feel his fingers inching towards yours, pinkie overlapping with yours. Your hands involuntarily close into fists and that’s all it takes for Neteyam to shoot up from his perch on the log and take you by the elbow. 

There’s a hush as his friends and yours watch the two of you part ways with the group, the nearly feral look in their leader’s son suggestively mistaken. 

“Why won’t you touch me?” Neteyam asks fiercely, once enough distance lies between the two of you and the rest of the clan. 

His words make your cheeks warm, but he looks troubled, hurt. 

“I-” 

“Did I do something to disgust you? Did I…” 

His words melt into the background as you watch him with teary eyes. 

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Teyam,” you whisper. “You can tell me the truth. I’m a big girl.” 

“What are you talking about?” he asks, frustrated. “You’re the one hiding something. These past few weeks I’ve been trying to be with you, trying to love you and you keep pushing me away.” 

A twinge of annoyance erupts in the pit of your belly as you frown. 

“That’s rich coming from you,” you murmur hoarsely. 

“I’m so lost right now, ________,” he admits desperately. “We were fine, everything was great, and suddenly I feel like I’m losing you. Did I do something? Are you–” 

“Just be honest with me!” you cry out. “Why do you have to put on this front all the time? It’s just me, Neteyam! If I overwhelm you, if I embarrass you, just say it! It hurts worse when you act like it’s nothing.” 

And Christ, his friends were right. He is needy. Because you’re not a want but a lifeline. A dire necessity that he feels the need to cling to in this moment. This feels a lot like you two are splintering, and he’s about to open his mouth to ask what would compel you to say such a thing, but then it clicks. 

The final piece of the puzzle that he’d been agonizing over falls into place and his eyes are widening. 

“No,” he says vehemently. “That wasn’t–” 

“Is it not?” you cut him off as you dash the threatening tears away. 

“God, no,” he breathes. “I was– They were…”

You watch him with wet lashes and his heart aches as he takes the leap and pulls you into his chest with a shuddering breath. 

“I’m so stupid.” His chest rumbles as your ear presses to his heart, arms winding tightly around your figure to buoy you to place. “Fuck.” 

You hiccup and his hand cradles your head, peppering kisses against your hair as he sways your bodies like it’ll disorient the miscommunication and send it spiraling away. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “I didn’t mean to be embarrassing. I–” 

“No, no, bug,” he swallows, hugging you so tight, you struggle to suck a breath into your lungs. “You’re not, I promise. I could never be embarrassed by you.” 

You shudder so hard his grip loosens, parting with you to cup your flushed cheeks in his hands. 

“They were ripping me a new one,” he says shakily. “Told me I was needy, clingy, and I was embarrassed because they’re right.” 

Your throat bobs and Neteyam’s thumb brushes over the apple of your cheeks. 

“You make me so weak, you don’t even understand,” he laughs humorlessly, body wracked with nerves, with want, with need. “I said it to save face because I never know what to do with myself around you.”

“You—”

“And I know it was wrong, talking out of my ass to get them to shut the fuck up,” his language is a crass reminder that he’s a former marine’s son, “but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being yours.” 

Yours. 

It’s a sound declaration, one that makes you crumple like a baby because you’ve missed your person, and Neteyam hugs you close again. 

“I’m sorry I’m so clueless sometimes, bug,” he whispers, cheek nuzzling the top of your head. “Love you more than anything, I mean it.”

You hiccup again. 

“Love you, too, stupid” you mumble, arms wrapping around the narrow of his waist. 

It’s your first meaningful touch in weeks and Neteyam melts under the heat of your body, under the heat of your warm hands. 

neng © 2023

taglist; @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr , @neteyamoa , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts , @athenachu

— 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦

the lowdown — the one where neteyam screws up and he notices the distance between you.

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 1.6k

the tags and warnings — a lil angst (i must be a masochist), hurt / comfort, fluff. 

the notes — based off of this request! 

masterlist

The pressure on Neteyam’s shoulders makes him tense. 

He’d been thrown task after task, whiplash impending as villagers and clanspeople called his name left and right for assistance with responsibilities both great and menial. 

It was a day he cleared to spend time alone, too immersed in playing the threads that held the clan together. But from morning eclipse to now, as the forest is shrouding in darkness, the duty of being a diligent leader-in-training weighs heavy like an anchor. 

He breathes a sigh of relief when he finally settles near a stream, feet in the water as he leans back on both hands and basks in the natural soundscape of the abundant jungle. 

It’s short-lived though, his eyes closing in defeat when he hears someone calling his name. 

“Neteyam?” It’s you, his lover, his star that shines so bright. “Teyam?” 

He stills, hoping the quiet rush of the stream’s waters will blanket his breathing. 

You come poking out of the brush anyways, excited when you see your partner for the first time since last night’s eclipse. 

You kneel behind him, arms coming around his neck as you lean over his shoulder and start planting kisses against his cheek and jaw. 

“Missed you,” you admit, pressing your face again his. “Today was so exciting, you won’t believe what…” 

He’s tuning you out, a heavy sigh blowing past his lips as your voice projects and seems to fill the space. You chatter, and you chatter, and you chatter a mile a minute as you rehash your entire day. 

You’re only excited, still caught up in the throes of your extended honeymoon phase, but Neteyam, quite frankly, is fed up. 

“For once just stop,” he says sharply, and your babbling dies down. 

“Hm?” you hum, hand coming to tuck one of his braids behind his ear.

“Just stop talking, please,” he says firmly. “You’re being noisy and I just want a single moment of peace.” 

Your hold around his neck loosens and he lets out another deep sigh when he feels you settle behind him, opting to brush your fingers across the upper expanse of his back. You’re trying to work out the knots in his shoulders, but he’s grabbing your hand to stop you. 

“Alone,” he reiterates. 

He doesn’t see the way your face falls, the way a flutter of insecurity shutters over your softened expression. He just feels you withdraw, fingers slipping from his grasp as the grass rustles and you stand to your feet. 

He expects you to bid him a farewell, but by the time he’s craning his neck over his shoulder, you’re disappearing back into the brush where you came from. 

Neteyam seems to sleep the weariness off, that much is clear when he takes a seat next to you the following morning for the first meal and kisses your temple. It sits with you, though, that gutting feeling that maybe Neteyam has underlying feelings that you overlook. 

“Sleep okay?” he asks you, flashing you a small smile as he brushes loose hair over your shoulder to see your profile better. 

You nod despite the lie. Truthfully you had barely slept at all, wracking your brain for signs you missed, moments you spent being overbearing. It still haunts you now as you pick through the fruits and grains on your plate, focusing extra hard. 

“The next batch of warriors will be attempting their rite soon,” he says, biting into a chunk of dried meat. “After everything is said and done…” 

You can’t help but wonder if he’s always felt that way. If every moment with you drains him and he’s just good at keeping up the facade. 

“My love?” Neteyam calls gently, pulling you from your trance. 

You look up at him with wide eyes. 

“Yes?” Your voice cracks, hoarse as you clear your throat.

His brow bone twitches as he seems to search your face. 

“Everything alright?” 

You nod again. 

“Yeah,” you affirm. “All good.” 

But things are not all good, Neteyam comes to realize after a few lonely eclipses. You hadn’t met him at your spot near the waterfalls for evening swims and as he kicks stones on the way back to the camp, he tries to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.

When it hits him, he feels so stupid, freezing in the middle of the buzzing forest. 

“Oh, ________,” he whispers to himself, padding quickly through the grass. 

It isn’t hard to find you, reclined in a hammock, reading a book some of the lab guys had lent to the village for practice. 

As he closes in on you, things seem fine, but he knows better. He knows his sweet girl better than to leave things unsaid. 

You finally look up when your hammock begins to sway with Neteyam’s gradual weight. When he settles in across from you, pulling your smooth legs over his, he speaks. 

“Where have you been, my love?” he tests, fingers absently toying with the threads fastened around your ankle. 

“Here,” you say simply, turning your attention back to the book to flip the page. 

“You didn’t meet me at the waterfall,” he presses, fingertips skimming over your calves. 

“There were many tasks in the village today,” you reply. “I wanted to rest.” 

A prolonged silence envelops you as you continue reading, leaving Neteyam to filter through his thoughts. 

“Can we talk?” he asks, delicately pulling the book from your grasp to draw your attention. 

You blink at him with round eyes and his heart squeezes in his chest. How could he say something like that to someone like you, always so tender and gentle. 

“I want to apologize,” he says, leaning forward to capture your hands in his. “About that night near the stream.”

Your expression doesn’t falter, you just continue to watch him quietly as he mulls over the words. 

“I was really overwhelmed and I took it out on you,” he says, thumb brushing over azure skin. 

“S’okay,” you say softly, smiling at him lightly. “I’m sorry for being annoying.” 

Neteyam’s gaze softens.

“You could never be annoying,” he says, hand coming up to stroke your cheek. “I like when you’re happy and you tell me about your day. I like being with you.” 

He’s pulling you into him so that you rest on his chest, hand coming up to smooth the hair on the back of your head. 

Neteyam doesn’t notice that the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes as his voice rumbles in his chest.

You had him fooled for a while, that things were okay between the two of you, but Neteyam was learning to read you. Knew your little tics and nuances. 

You wanted to shake that night, wanted to fall into him again, but it was like an itch that couldn’t be scratched, an ache that couldn’t be soothed. 

You were so in your head that you hadn’t even realized that others were starting to notice, too. Murmurs that there could be trouble in paradise. 

You were starting to read more, blowing through the books in the lab. Anything to take your mind off the burn. You were too busy trying to preserve the peace, of trying to find comfort in your own, that you don’t notice that Neteyam is growing restless. 

It’s another missed meet up when he finally decides that enough is enough. 

When he doesn’t find you in your hammock, his brows furrow, shaky breath blowing past his lips. 

The village hasn’t seen much of you either if his unanswered inquiries are anything to go by. So he follows his gut, searching the ins and outs of the camp for you. Every empty space is added stress, but he tries one last place. 

And of course you’d be there, the place that started it all, fingers skimming the surface of the water as you watch the creatures in the water swim happily. 

“My love,” Neteyam says quietly. 

You ministrations on the water ceases. 

“Hm?” you hum, eyes still glued to a particularly luminescent fish. 

“Look at me.”

You don’t realize how close he’s gotten until you hear him right behind you. When you turn your gaze skywards to meet his eyes, you see the worry etched into his features. 

“Are you alright?” you ask, standing to your feet. 

“I should be asking you,” he replies, hands cupping each side of your neck to coax you to look up at him. 

“I’m fine,” you assure him, unable to meet his gaze. 

“________,” he urges. 

At the sound of your full name, you melt like putty in his hands, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. 

“It’s stupid,” you whisper. 

“Talk to me,” he implores. 

You look like you’re chewing on the words, like they want to come out but you’re wrestling with them. When his thumb brushes your jaw like a silent okay, you crumble. 

“Just wanted to give you space,” you mumble.

Neteyam looks wounded.

“Why would you–“ 

“You have many duties to the clan,” you reason quietly “I don’t want to add to it.” 

“Is this about what I said the other night?” he asks fearfully. 

Your silence is answer enough and he crushes you in his arms like you’ll float away. Something tingles in your nose, like you could cry, so you push your face into the smooth planes of his chest. 

“I was being thoughtless,” he says, voice like a roll of thunder behind his ribcage. “You are the highlight of my days, my first and last thought, do you hear me?” 

You mumble something and Neteyam nudges you away gently so that he can look into your eyes. 

“I wouldn’t trade you, change you, for anything,” he says. “Mark my words.” 

You nod, but the gesture is not enough. 

“Are we understood, my love?” he iterates. 

A smile plays at your lips as you nod again. 

“Understood.” 

neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr, @neteyamoa , @itssiaaax

avoidance | azriel

summary; things are getting real between you and azriel, and a slight panic ensues.

word count; 2421

notes; idk man I just got out my laptop to write down a little drabble idea and out of nowhere this happened? 0 plot, 0 context, just somethin' cute, I guess?

“You’re avoiding me.”

You jumped, almost dropping the yoghurt pot in your hands, teeth clanging on the spoon as you pulled it back. Twisting to face the man now casually leaning against the counter, your eyes narrowed, wondering when he’d snuck up on you, and just how long he’d been there.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“What- I am not!” You spoke through your mouthful, wincing a little and deigning to swallow it, even though the previously sweet treat now felt like a spoonful of sand in your throat. “Why would I be avoiding you?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.” 

“And now I’m asking you.” You deflected, nose scrunching a little as you turned your back on the man you most definitely were avoiding a little bit, Putting down your yoghurt, you attempted to seem busy as you stared out of the window at the gardens beyond, the sunlight flittering through the leaves and lighting up patches with a golden glow. 

“We haven’t spoken for two days.”

“I’ve been.. busy.” The lie did not roll off of your tongue as easily as they did his, and you knew that he’d picked it up. Catching sight of him in the reflection of the window, you watched him shuffle, arms crossing over his chest, shadows coiling tighter around his body as his smirk fell away. Then his gaze met yours in the glass, and you gasped, refocusing on the garden beyond. 

“You haven’t been to training all week, either.”

“I’ve been to training, I just had to fit it in at different times!” Not technically a lie, you had been going to training, just at the most unusual possible hours you could think of, to be sure you wouldn't bump into him. His silence stretched on, uncomfortable and stifling, and you knew every trick in his book to get people to talk, this was the easiest one, and yet you caved, after barely thirty seconds. “I’ve been, y’know, chaperoning Lucien and Elain!” 

With one arm, you motioned to the couple outside, now wandering past the window, a pink flush on her cheeks to match the colour of her dress as they ambled along arm in arm, Lucien talking animatedly, a smirk on his face at her expression. They took no notice of you both. “I wasn’t aware they still needed a chaperone, what, with being officially mated, and all.”

Your lips pressed together, brows furrowing. “Well, you never know.”

Silence, again. Then, an arm was snaking around your waist, your gasp lost to a shaky breath as a kiss was planted to the space between your shoulder and your neck, another over your pulse. Soft and tentative and fragile, Azriel peppered barely-there kisses along your skin as his other arm looped around you too, pulling you back against him. 

“Az..”

“Why are you avoiding me?” He pressed again, this time, rather than cockiness at having caught you off-guard, a twinge of vulnerable pain lay in his voice. He moved up, the tip of his nose dragging over your jaw, a soft kiss pressed there too as he nudged your head to fall back onto his shoulder, as he squeezed his arms around you a little tighter, wings drooping over the sides of your body. 

“Because- because, we can’t.” The words tumbled from you, a confession you’d never actually wanted him to hear, and he froze, before turning you gently. Despite letting you go, he kept you just as trapped here, in the moment, hands locking onto the counter on either side of your body to keep you in place as he lowered himself enough that you didn’t have to tip your head up just to look at him. No excuses to avoid his gaze, then. “We can’t do this.”

“Oh, we most definitely can. And we did, in fact, we did a lot more than this, multiple times, on this counter, just last month.” When a grin broke free, despite your rolling eyes, a smile finally made itself known on his face. “We’ve established that we can do this, and that we like to do this.” Your mouth opened, and he shook his head. “Uh-uh, I know you liked it, I had scratches down my back that proved it.”

“Ego, much?”

“So, now that we know we can do this, why shouldn’t we?” He was serious again, dark brows pulling together, a wounded frown on his face, and you hated that look on him. Wanted to hold him, to use your fingers or lips to smooth away every mark until he looked happy and peaceful once again. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I can’t talk to you! That’s the whole point! You were my best friend, and you were the person I spoke to about everything, but I can’t do that anymore, and it scares me. What if we fuck up, and ruin our friendship? What if something goes wrong? What if you change your mind or this spark fizzles out, and.. and.. yeah..” You puffed out a sharp breath to follow it, unable to hold his stare now no matter how hard he tried. 

Only a second passed by, before he was huffing out a breathy laugh. One that soon transformed into a full-body chuckle, the deep sound vibrating over your skin, and a flush bloomed on your cheeks. “You’re freaking out.”

“I am not freaking out!”

“Oh, you are freaking out!” You reached out, shoving at his chest to get him to back up, storming away being the number one thing on your mind now, and that only made him laugh harder. So hard, his arms went weak, and he toppled a half-step closer to you, bringing him in so close his breaths were puffed over your hairline, and you had to look up to scowl at him now.

“You’re being a jerk.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” He took a shaky breath, daring to look down at you, calming himself into being able to at least offer a small smile to you. “I thought I’d be the one to freak out. I’ve been waiting weeks for it, since that very first night. I waited for you to wake up and tell me it was a mistake and for me to panic, and I waited after that first dinner to panic, and after the walk around the Sidra, and the picnic, and-”

“Don’t recap every date we’ve been on. It’s been months. We’ll be here for hours.” You grumbled, and if there had been enough space to do so without elbowing him in the ribs, your arms would be crossed over your chest. The thought of doing it purely for that reason flickered across your mind. 

“Listen, the point is, you’re freaking out. About us. I thought I was gonna’ freak out.” He was teasing, one thumb lifting from the counter by your hip to swipe gently at you, a test, to see if you were ready yet for his touch again. You were missing it.

“Stop saying ‘freak out’.” 

“Why?”

“Because you’re gonna freak me out!” The snap only made him laugh again, tipping forward to hide his face on your shoulder as he cracked up. You were mad at him, and scared, but above all else, your chest was all but bursting with affection at the way his body shook against you as he hid his amusement against your skin. When he was strong enough to pull back, he shifted, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he rose that had warmth racing to your face once again. 

“Look, you’re freaking out because we were friends first, but we didn’t stop being best friends when we started doing more.” His smile was genuine now, soft and caring and you gave a little sigh, a lump forming in your throat at the overwhelming emotions. He took one of your hands in his, rough thumb swiping over your knuckles. “I’m always going to be your best friend, and I want you to talk to me, about everything, still. The only difference is that now, sometimes I get to kiss you, hold your hand, take you out on dates and call you ‘my girl’ when I introduce you to people instead of ‘my best friend’.”

“Oh, that’s the only difference, huh?” 

“Well, it’s the only difference for now.” His murmur was soft as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, your other cheek, the tip of your nose. “One day, hopefully soon but I can wait, the only difference will be that instead of hanging at your place or my place, we’ll hang at our place. Maybe, one day, the only difference will be that instead of telling people you’re ‘my girl’, I’ll get to tell them you’re my ‘wife’. We can just be two best friends, who stand up in front of all our other best friends, and promise to be best friends for all of our immortal lives.”

“You’re really not freaking out about this?” You questioned, all of it sounding so wonderful and perfect and terrifying at the same time, and you expected Azriel to have been flying for the hills by now.

“Not even a little bit.”

“You know, I’m high-maintenance.” You pushed, and he only huffed in response.

“No, you’re not. You like to stay in bed and read for dates, or go on walks, and you almost cried that time I brought you a postcard back from my assignment.” You poked at his ribs, and he shrugged. “But, fine, you can become as high-maintenance as you want. I’ll be more than happy to maintain you.”

“Well, I’m an annoying drunk.”

“I know, I’ve been friends with you for an eternity, I am well-equipped to handle your drunk antics.” He smiled, leaning in, breath sharing with you as you watched him near, golden gaze tearing you apart with its intensity. “Anything else?”

“I will yell at you for leaving socks on the floor, and you will have to be the strict parent because you know I will cave, and I get bitchy on my cycle sometimes, and-”

“Shut up, I’m not going anywhere.” His whisper was only for you, so low that had he not been so close you’d have missed it, before his mouth was sealing over yours. Soft and warm, his lips move slowly, coaxing you to kiss him back, until you couldn’t take it any longer.

When you lifted your arms, wrapping them around his neck, he sighed happily against your mouth, letting his body fall entirely against your own, pressing you into the counter. He licked along your lower lip, tongue teasing, waiting for permission. You gave it, mouth opening for him as you scratched lightly through the hairs at the nape of his neck. He was barely holding himself up against you, his tongue smoothing against your own, dragging slowly, tasting what you’d denied him for days now. 

He shifted, hands tugging at your thighs to lift you onto the counter so he could step between them, step closer to you. With one hand smoothing down his neck, you could feel his pulse thrumming under your touch, his head tipping a little to kiss you deeper. Unhurried, loving and tender and sweet. He tasted like the lemon water Cassian had been making everyone drink after training lately, he smelt like sweat and faint spices, and he felt like home. 

He pulled back, a gasping breath before diving right back in, groaning as your lips met again and your giggle was swallowed entirely by his mouth over yours, hands squeezing at your thighs, sliding up to your hips, Then, he was tugging you closer, wrapping your legs around his waist before looping his arms around your lower back, much like a hug, holding you to him. His lips left yours, dotting kisses along your jaw as he caught his breath, your head tipping back for him, until he settled with his face in your neck once again, and you could feel his smile. 

Bringing a hand up from where they’d settled on his shoulders, you wove your fingers through his hair gently, a rumble of pleasure at the act shuddering along his body. “See? We’re still best friends, just with really good benefits.”

“They were pretty good.” 

“I, for one, happen to love the benefits.” He settled happily, adjusting you until you were pressed as close as you could get, your heart thudding a steady rhythm against his shoulder, beating all for him. 

“Yeah, well, I happen to love you.” Your words were a whisper, but you knew he heard them, and after a second, he stiffened in your touch, holding his breath on full lungs. Your fingers paused their movements in his hair. “What?”

“We’ve never said that before.” He pulled back slowly, eyes wide, a shocked look on his face, and for all of one second, panic flared up within you once again. Until he was smirking at you. “I think I might have to freak out for a second.”

“You’re such an asshole!” Your legs unhitched from around his waist, but he made no move to step back, a work of art between your thighs as his head tipped back in laughter. Sunlight from the window behind lit up his golden skin, adding an extra sparkle to his eyes as he looked at you, lips spread wide in a heart-stopping grin. “I take it back. I don’t love you anymore, and I don’t even want to be your friend. Get off.”

“Nope! You love me, and we’re gonna’ be best friends for the rest of our lives, and we’re gonna’ make lots of cute little babies and live in a cute little house, and-” You cut off his teasing by pulling his lips back to your own, a handful of his shirt over his chest and one hand on his shoulder, and his words were muffled, your smile hidden, as your lips found each other again. 

He might have been a cocky, teasing asshole, but he was all yours, and you wouldn't have it any other way. Shadows swirled happily around the both of you, cold tendrils brushing against your skin and through your hair as they hid you both from the outside world, a bubble made for only the two of you, where only you got to see him like this. So carefree, so happy. 

Into the kiss, as his hands slipped up to hold your cheeks, fingers tangling in your hair, he mumbled, “I love you too, sweetheart.”

UNNOTICED – JOEL MILLER x SHE/HER!READER

SUMMARY – You said something to Joel while he was sleeping that didn’t go unnoticed.

she/her!reader || pure fluff + english isn’t my first language <3

Ellie passed by you and Joel and went inside, looking for something that you could use to lay Joel down. The man was using his last strengths to not give up in your arms and to keep walking until you both got to the house. One of your arms was around his body, your other one was holding the one he had around your shoulders so he could lay his weight on you until you both tripped and fell into the snow.

“No, no, no. Joel, come on, please.“ You tried to help him up again, but he was so tired and the wound on his stomach was dripping blood on the snow under you two. He raised his head and looked at you. He had to help you. You looked back at him with your eyebrows raised, begging him with no words to please help you. But he couldn’t do it anymore. When you saw that he was giving up, you decided to shout Ellie’s name for her to come to your help. You and the girl managed to get Joel inside the house and helped him to lay down on a mattress to finally see what his wound looked like.

“Oh, shit-” Ellie gasped when she lifted up his shirt. Your heart felt heavy inside your chest and for a moment you could feel it beating in your throat. You shook your head, coming back to your senses. Ellie already had time to react. Her hands were pressing a cloth to his abdomen and Joel was groaning in pain, complaining even more when you put your hands on the cloth over his wound as well.

“Leave.“ Joel mumbled. You shook your head, still applying pressure to his nonstopping bleeding wound and not realizing that he was not talking to you. “Leave. Take the gun.” He repeated and grabbed Ellie by the neck of her coat and pulled her closer to him. You looked at him confused, still shaking your head, not believing what he was asking both of you to do. You still seemed to not understand that you had no say in this.

“No, no, no.“ You tried to make him stop talking, but it was like you weren’t there for him. Ellie looked at you, scared and not knowing what to say to Joel but he pulled from her clothes tighter to keep her attention on him. It was going to be easier this way. Ellie and Joel were the rational ones, they know shit happens and that life is not fair, but out of you three, you were the emotional one. You were the one that spent almost two hours locked in the bathroom of Bill and Frank’s house after you found out that they were dead, you were the one that went a whole day without talking after seeing Henry kill himself and his brother in front of you.

“You go and you take her with you. You both go north. You go to Tommy.“ Joel ordered and pushed Ellie away from him, making the girl fall on her ass.

“No. We are not going to do any of that. There’s no way we’re leaving you here.” You told Ellie while using the cuffs of your jacket to wipe away your tears. The girl was not paying attention to you anymore, she was looking at Joel, and Joel was looking at her. Like you, she couldn’t believe what Joel was asking her to do. Ellie stood up, the anger clearly visible on her face as her eyes did not move from Joel’s. If that’s what he wanted, he would get it.

“No- Ellie, no!“ Her footsteps were loud as she disappeared up the stairs. “Why did you ask her to do that, huh?! What makes you think that I’m leaving you here?!” You yelled at him and got closer to his face, clutching his jacket in your fists. He couldn’t say anything else, his strengths were all gone to fight with you. His lips trembled while he looked at you out of the corner of his eye and Joel wished to die at that moment so that the last thing he saw was you. Even though if you had tears running down your face and you hated him for asking Ellie and you to leave him to die. You finally released the grip on his jacket as you gasped a ‘fuck’ and covered your face with your hands, trying to think clearly.

“Okay, let me see.” You got on your knees by his side and took his hands to remove them from the cloth covering his wound. Joel let your small hands compared to his cup his big ones before he linked your fingers together and caressed your skin with his thumb. Tears threatened to flow from your eyes again but instead of letting yourself cry in front of him again, you caressed his hand back. 

“Shit… okay- Use this one.” You grabbed a “clean” cloth and changed it for the already soaked-in-blood one. You heard upstairs the drawers being slammed shut and the frustrated sounds Ellie was making. Deep down you knew she would no leave but seeing her so determinate when she went upstairs really made you doubt.

You helped him to press the fabric into his wound. He was mesmerized looking at you while you talked to him with a soft voice trying to keep him awake. Ellie finally came back and it was as if you were seeing an angel carrying in her sweet little hands a needle and thread. You sighed and some tears streamed down your cheeks because of the relief. You were quick to wipe them off as you allowed Ellie to peel the fabric from his belly. You moved closer to his face and caressed his forehead.

“I know it’s gonna hurt but you gotta hang in there, okay?” Joel looked at you with his lips parted and a single tear rolling down his cheek. You were quick to capture it with your finger.

Joel turned his head to you, his neck tensed and his eyes closed shut. Ellie wasn’t enjoying this either, she was biting her lower lip trying to control the trembling of her hands so as not to hurt him more. You held his free hand. His other one was squeezing firmly the girl’s jacket. You rested your forehead against his, “It’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

He spent the rest of the day sleeping. Ellie and you never left his side, maybe because of the state of shock in which you were still in. You were ready in case something happened to Ellie, Joel would know what to do, and Ellie was prepared in case something happened to you because he would be there to take care of it. But none of you two were prepared for something like this to happen to him, it had caught you totally off guard. Each of you were seated at one end of the room, both of you hugging your legs. You couldn’t seem to take your eyes off Joel’s chest, making sure that he was still breathing. On the other hand, Ellie was staring at a fixed point. It was exasperating for you both not knowing what the other one was thinking but the lumps in your throats did not allow you to put it into words.

The next day you and Ellie shared the last bit of food you had left and decided to save some for him in case he woke up. You put your fingers inside the glass of water and let them wet Joel’s lips. Ellie checked his wound but it was starting to look even worse. The girl rested her head on your shoulder to have some rest and yours fell on top of hers. Ellie decided to go hunting, leaving you alone with Joel. You checked his temperature by pressing the back of your hand against his forehead and noticed that he was a little hot, so you decided to snuggle up next to him in case the blanket was not doing enough. You placed your head on his chest, feeling it slowly raise and fall, and you hugged his body against yours.

 “I’m lost without you, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know where to go- I can’t do this without you, Joel. I can’t- I can’t lose you. I’m not ready to lose you, please.“ You lifted your head to look at his sleeping face and you let out a sigh. His expression was peaceful, at least he was not in pain while he was unconscious. His lips were still wet from the water you applied to them before. This was probably so wrong but as much as you didn’t like to think about it, you didn’t know if he was going to recover from this. His wound was getting worse every day, what if this was the only chance you had? You stroked the hair growing on his cheeks and you moved your mouth closer to his. God, he was even prettier from there. "I love you.” You whispered against his lips and pressed yours to his. You fell asleep on his chest until Ellie arrived with two bottles of penicillin and a syringe.

He was different since he woke up. Maybe he thought he needed to be different after everything that happened with David. You liked the grumpy Joel, but you liked this version of him even more. He had been so talkative since he got better, he even mentioned his daughter Sarah a couple of times which was a surprise to you because you saw how Joel reacted when Ellie mentioned his daughter back in Jackson. You asked some questions about her because you noticed how his eyes sparkled every time he talked about his girl. She would’ve loved you, Joel said to you and you almost fell to your knees because of how that made you feel. Sarah still was the most important person to Joel, and him telling you that felt like the best of compliments.

Ellie ran after the giraffe when it left.

“We should go with her.“ Joel said and you nodded, agreeing with him and with a little smile on your lips thanks to the girl being so excited over the animal. Joel looked at you out of the corner of his eye, your eyes were on where the girl had left. The man threw his rifle over his shoulder, ready to go once you caught him staring at you. You looked down, your cheeks getting warm as you walked by his side.

“I heard you.“

“Huh?“

“I heard you talking to me while I was sleeping.“

“Oh.. I don’t- I can’t even remember what I said, I was probably freaking out because I thought you were gonna die, so…“

Joel nodded, pressing his lips together, a sign that he was not believing what you were saying. “I also was conscious when you kissed me.” 

Was it better to deny it and make him think he was going crazy or should you face it? “I’m sorry, I should’ve never done that-”

“I liked it.“ Joel said and you raised your eyebrows. “I mean- I liked you doing that, it’s not like I remember much about it.”

“Oh.“ You said surprised. “Oh.” You repeated again after realizing. You didn’t expect Joel to get angry over a little kiss but you also didn’t expect him to confess that he liked it, much less that he knew that you kissed him.

“I also heard what you said.” Joel repeated.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You told me you loved me-”

“Okay, that’s enough.” You shook your head, annoyed that he was being so insistent about it. You started walking, leaving Joel standing there when he grabbed your arm. He was far from finishing the conversation.

“So you’re okay with kissing while unconscious but you draw the line at saying I love you?”

“I told you that I’m sorry!”

“And I told you that you don’t have to be.”

“Then why do you keep insisting, Joel?“

“Because I know it’s not something you said just for the sake of saying it. It’s not because I was dying.”

You narrowed your eyes. With a sharp movement you managed to get rid of his grip on your arm, not in an angry way but in a you got me way. You didn’t like Joel reading you like that, it was as if he could see what was going on behind your eyes, what your head was scheming but most dangerous what you were feeling, and when you were lying. “Have you always been this cocky? Or is it because you’ve had a near-death experience?”

“Has it always been so difficult for you to accept your feelings?”

“Actually, yes.“

“Even when they are reciprocated?“

“Yes.“

“Wow. You got some serious issues going on there, huh.“ Joel said ans slowly took a few steps towards you.

“You just told me that you liked me kissing you.“

“Is it not enough?“ He was getting closer and closer and you did not want to move away from him.

“No, it’s not. I-“

“You want me to say I love you too?“

You nodded and swallowed nervously. You were the cutest. Joel smiled and held your chin using his thumb and index finger. “I’m not going to ask for your permission either, is that okay?” You nodded to his question, feeling his hot breath against your lips and a tight knot forming in the lower part of your belly. You wanted to complain again and told him that you already apologized for that but his cute way of asking for your consent without asking for it had you wishing for the distance between the two of you to disappear. 

Joel finally crushed his lips with yours. If he was honest, he was a little worried that he had forgotten how to kiss after all these years, but just your lips against him, one of your hands resting on his chest and his big one cupping your cheek felt good enough. Also, you didn’t even have the chance to go any further than that because Ellie appeared, spouting the harshest words out of her mouth once she realized what was going on.

— 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 [𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦]

the lowdown — the one where neteyam is too blinded by duty to realize what he has right in front of him. 

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count  — 5.6k (this isn't even a drabble anymore).

the tags & warnings — language, more emotional constipation, mentions of blood & injury, childhood friends(?)2l, unrequited love, angst w a semi-happy / openish ending.

the notes  — based off of this request & this one ! let’s pretend the trees of souls didn’t get burned down in the first movie :) 

masterlist

You were an odd thing, curious, maybe a little strange, but like learning anything, everyone had grown accustomed to your weird little habits. Everyone except for Neteyam, the clan leader’s son. And the weird habit in question was poorly-expressed words of adoration that seemed to meld into unconventional confessions as you got older. 

It started when you two were eight, perhaps nine. The two of you were in a village elder’s tent, learning the best ways to debone fish to prepare for meals when she’d ducked out for a moment and left the two of you in a cloud of uncomfortable silence. 

Neteyam’s fingers were nimble, swift, while you lagged behind, eyes fluttering to the way he seemed to grasp the elder’s instruction with more ease than you. 

“We should always be together,” you’d said absently, still fiddling with the same fish while Neteyam moved onto the next. “I will be useless to our family without you.” 

Neteyam’s spine had gone rigid, gaze wide as he side-eyed you from his seat. 

“Huh?” He’d clearly been caught off guard, ministrations on the catch frozen as his eyebrows furrowed. 

“When we are married,” you’d said, holding the bone structure of your first fish triumphantly.

“Married?” he parroted shrilly, fully turning to face you. 

You looked up from your task, nodding like it was the most common of knowledge.

“Yes, Neteyam,” you affirmed, chuffing a small laugh. “In the future, when we are married.” 

Neteyam wouldn’t have been so off put had the comment been a one time thing, but they were frequent, spoken both in the quiet of much-dreaded time alone with you and hushed whispers in the midst of the other villagers your age. 

It wasn’t any help that his parents seemed to always set the two of you up in many endeavors over the course of your adolescence. And he’d tried, tried so hard to shake you over the years, but you were glued to his hip. 

You look handsome today, you’d say often, regardless. Training is paying off, whispered in his ear as your fingertips smoothe over the skin of his biceps. I hope the little ones grow to be as mighty as you are, spoken after sessions in the archery circle. The comments are all fleeting, mentioned in passing like a casual word, but they make Neteyam warm, make his cheeks heat when he searches your face for any betrayal of emotion. 

But all he’s met with is an expression that borders smug, one that makes him wonder why, out of all of the boys growing into fine young men over the course of your adolescence, had you picked him to be the object of your affections. 

Try as he might, to be short-tempered, callous, you were always there. He sought the attention of other women, tried to put as many bodies between the two of you, but you were relentless, smiled gently when you’d catch his wandering hands against the skin of another, would turn a blind eye when his lips brushed too intimately over eager ears.

At first he figured that maybe it was because he was the first boy you’d encountered and it’d just been the way the cards were dealt. At times he thought you were messing with him, a long-running joke between you and some unknown entities to fuck around with his feelings. His current theory, however, is one that he sits more confidently on when he begins observing you. 

You spend an awful amount of time not only tailing him, but tailing his family, pestering Kiri and Lo’ak about god knows what, spending many afternoons schmoozing with his parents, seeking guidance from Mo’at. 

He comes to the conclusion, after some time, that you’re trying to solidify your place within his family, trying to secure your role next to him as the future leader of the clan. This much is confirmed when his parents bring up the sore topic of you one night once everyone has turned in after the evening meal. 

“The time for your selection feast is arriving,” Neytiri says hesitantly, like she’s treading on thin ice. 

Neteyam has an inkling where this conversation will go when Jake shifts to sit next to his partner, the perfect picture of what a love that transcends all should look like. But he doesn’t know love, just knows preparing for his future and what ruling the clan will look like. 

“Yeah,” Neteyam agrees. 

“Do you have someone in mind?” Jake prods, busying himself by toying with his songchord. 

To his dismay, you briefly eclipse his mind, the annoyingly beautiful girl he’d grown up with but, even a decade later, still can’t seem to get a good read on.

“No,” he answers slowly. 

His parents seem to chew on this for a moment, glancing at each other momentarily before Neytiri draws in a deep breath and focuses her attention on her oldest son all over again. 

“Well…your father and I believe that perhaps ________ could be a good choice.”

It’s like a bomb detonates, but the aftershocks are only seen in the way Neteyam’s lips purse and his brows furrow. 

He’s not one to go against his parents, but he’ll be damned if he has to spend forever with you. 

“No,” he repeats, but with time with vindication. 

Jake looks stunned, back straightening as he takes his son in with wary eyes.

“No?” 

“No,” Neteyam reiterates. “I would rather spend my life alone than spend it with her.” 

“Neteyam,” Neytiri sighs. 

“I’m sorry, Mom, I won’t,” he says firmly, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he glances between both of his parents, hoping, wishing that maybe they’ll see that this isn’t a good idea.

“Maitan, you don’t understand,” Neytiri says softly. “When you and ________ were born, Ewya gave us a sign.”

Neteyam’s blood runs cold. 

“So this has already been decided?” he asks, voice eerily steady. 

“Not necessarily,” Jake interjects. “We didn’t want you two to feel like you were being forced to be together so we hoped that encouraging you both to spend time together would allow something to develop…” 

“But they haven’t, so now it’s a not-so-silent push,” he says shortly. 

His parents share another look and he feels annoyance beginning to form in his gut. 

“We wouldn’t say that there aren’t any feelings there,” Neytiri says. 

Neteyam breathes a humorless laugh as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“I don’t feel anything for her,” he says with finality. “Nothing about a union with her piques my interest. We’ve been in close proximity since birth but my heart feels more for the trees in the forest than it ever will for ________.” 

Jake squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Have you thought about giving her a chance?” he pushes. “She’s a lovely girl, really likes you.” 

That draws another huff of humorless laughter from Neteyam. 

“The only thing she’s interested in is status and being tsahik,” Neteyam scoffs. “There is nothing there.” 

Neytiri opens her mouth to say something, but Neteyam has mustered up as polite an excuse as he can as he stands to his feet and bows his head to his parents. 

When he ducks from the tent, he doesn’t expect to see you lingering outside of the exit.

His face morphs as the quiet words leave your lips. 

“You doubt my affections for you.” It’s a statement and a question wrapped in one, but you’re resigned, like always, and Neteyam can’t seem to grasp what you’re trying to get at clinging to him, to whatever this dynamic is. 

“What’s this game you’re playing?” he accuses, eyes narrowed. 

“What game?” you ask, gaze unfaltering as you stare up at him with those round golden eyes. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“Our entire lives, from being kids to now, you’ve toyed with me,” he says fiercely. “With this idea of us. Why? I’ve given you no reasons to be fond of me, yet you’re always here, there, everywhere.” 

“I have much to be fond of,” is your simple answer and Neteyam could groan in frustration. 

“Like what? Being the olo’eyktan’s son? Holding the future of this clan in my hands?” he asks sharply. 

“I would love you, circumstances withstanding,” you respond. “You don’t have to be afraid.” 

Love. 

What an odd concept, weird. One that Neteyam can’t seem to wrap his mind around when it comes to you. Doesn’t think he ever will. 

“Afraid of what?” he bites. 

“Of loving me back,” you say. 

He grimaces like the very thought disgusts him, like you’re an aversion he desperately wants to rid of. And perhaps you are, you realize, seeing years of pent up frustration and anger culminating into one big wound ready to rupture. 

“You think I love you?” he asks incredulously. 

He doesn’t miss the way you shrink, blinking quickly. 

“If you gave us a chance, maybe,” you whisper.

It sounds like the conversation with his parents all over again and realization seems to shutter across his features as he looks down at you. 

“How long have you known?” 

“Known what?” you ask quietly. 

“How long have you known that they’re trying to force us to be together?” he asks. 

You’re silent for a moment before muttering something under your breath. 

“What?” he snaps.

“They aren’t forcing us,” you clear your throat. “Not me, at least.” 

He scoffs. 

“Of course,” he mocks. “Because it only matters what you want out of this. Not that for the last decade I’ve been trying to get you to back off, trying to get you to understand that I don’t want this. I don’t want us, and if it means forfeiting my responsibilities, then so be it.” 

It’s a lofty statement, one that seals the last nail on your coffin. 

You’d loved Neteyam for as long as you can remember, have probably liked him for longer. When your parents told you early on that Eywa had given both of your families a sign that you and Neteyam were meant for one another, you’d embraced the idea wholeheartedly. Loved the idea of loving him even through moments when he’d try to drive a wedge between the two of you. 

Give him time, your parents had said to you. Jake and Neytiri want his feelings to develop naturally. 

And you waited. God, you waited, for so long. Waited for him to come around, to realize the things he did to you. Perhaps you had been too presumptuous, thinking that he’d be able to read you behind such a stoic facade, afraid that if you revealed too much of your wanting, you’d turn him off from the idea of being with you. 

But as you stand here before him, small under such a burning gaze, you realize that it’d been wishful thinking. Choosing him meant nothing if he didn’t choose you back. 

“I see…” you trail off quietly.

“Do you?” he asks, tone facetious. 

You nod once, unable to meet his gaze. Unable to see that his expression twitches the tiniest amount when he clocks the way your body seems to deflate.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I do.” 

His following days are quiet, filled with personal duties and commitments to the clan. He’d expected you to sleep off the night’s confrontation, he certainly had, a twinge of guilt searing his gut.

But you’re good at hiding, good at masking your feelings, good at disappearing. It doesn’t bother him at the beginning, figuring that you need your space, but then it’s a dull ache that ebbs into a grating gnaw as his every other thought flits to you and what you could be doing now that you’ve settled such a wide distance between himself and his family. 

“You are injured a lot more these days,” Mo’at observes, slathering the viscous mixture over a cut between his shoulder blades. 

He remains silent, doesn’t know how to admit that he’d been far more reckless these past few days in the hopes that he’d run into you in his grandmother’s quarters. A silent yearn to feel your skilled fingers work over his wounds, tender as you try to pry your way into his heart. 

Mo’at had been the one you spent the most time with, diligently training in the chance that Neteyam would finally see you, would make you his. But right now, you’re nowhere to be found and all he’s rewarded with is his grandmother’s rough hands and inquisitive gaze.

“She made this salve,” Mo’at says, filling the silence with idle talk. “Found a recipe that speeds healing and softens the skin.” 

“Did she?” Neteyam responds absently, imagining you picking and pruning the herbs yourself, frame languid as you move through the brush. 

“Said she didn’t want her lover to have such tough skin.” 

There’s laughter in his grandmother’s voice, but he can’t find it in himself to see the humor in the situation. Not when he’s beginning to see that maybe he’s not just another rung in the ladder for you, that duty is the most miniscule drop in your bucket.  

“Where’s ________?” he asks after a moment, hissing through his teeth when his grandmother’s fingers prod the wound. 

“Taking a break from her studies to assist Ama with the children,” she answers, and he misses the knowing look in her eyes. She pats his shoulder when she’s done patching him up. “She’s a fine young woman, Neteyam. Many of the villagers do not turn a blind eye to that fact. If she is not the one that your heart desires, give her the opportunity to align with one that does.” 

It makes something ugly, green, roil in the pit of his stomach at the idea of you being the subject of houndish eyes. You’re too reserved, too sweet, too devoted to be anyone else’s. 

And the thought floors him, makes the knot growing obnoxiously in his throat choke the air from his lungs. 

“Yeah,” he agrees in a whisper. 

And he knows that his grandmother is right. Knows that he shouldn’t be asking about you, doesn’t have the right to hold you hostage if the union is something that truly unsettles him. But the thought of letting go of whatever the two of you have is surprisingly indigestible. 

Neteyam is frustrated, thoroughly disoriented now that all he can think of is you. He’d tried everything under the sun to shake you, to get you to throw your cards in first, but now that you have, it’s like you tug on a string tethered to his hellish heart. 

He stands to his feet and turns to face Mo’at, giving a respectful nod before exiting the tent. 

It’s wrong, he knows it, seeking you out after burning every bridge between the two of you, but he can’t help it. Can’t help but enter the clearing in the forest carved through with a stream that the little ones play in. 

You’re exactly where his grandmother had said you were, sitting near the edge of the bubbling waters with Ama, a girl a few years your senior. The children are giggling, laughing as they splash each other, splash you. The expression on your face falters a little, stern as you adjust the netting strapped to your chest. 

The air is trapped in his lungs as he realizes. Sees the little head that peeks from the top of the fabric, ear pressed to your heart as you cover the baby’s head from the children’s gleeful laughter. 

“That’s not very nice,” you say gently. “Your little sister is trying to sleep.” 

Your voice makes the hairs on the back of his neck prick, a soft rasp that’s haunted him for the last few sleepless nights. It’s odd, seeing you in this light, relaxed from your lack of duties. You’re in your element like this, smiling and coddling the children of the clan as they climb over you and poke and prod. 

“Teyam!” One of them clocks him before he can retreat and his spine is going stiff, stomach turning when he sees the way your expression melts. 

“Hi,” he greets simply, unable to form anything more solid in the fears that he’ll spook you. 

The kids start emerging from the stream one by one, surrounding him as he takes a few tentative steps into the clearing. 

“Neteyam,” Ama greets cordially, eyes flitting between the two of you as you busy yourself with the little one strapped to your chest. 

Neteyam, on the other hand, can’t keep his eyes off of you. He’s silently pleading with Eywa, with whatever other force lies out of reach that you’ll just look at him. But you’re locked up tighter than a vault, obviously still reeling from the confrontation all those days ago. 

He hums your name, gentle like a prayer. Your eyes are hesitant, watching the snoozing baby in your arms before glancing at the remaining children in the stream before finally meeting his longing gaze. 

“Can we talk?” he asks you, flashing one of the curious kids a brief smile when they tug on the hem of his loincloth. 

Your response is far more blunt than he’d expected, taken aback when you murmur a firm, “No.”

He supposes that he deserves that, has earned the warmth that eclipses over his cheeks as the children watch the exchange with inquisitive eyes. And the way you stand to your feet to wrangle the village’s little ones is merited, telling them that playtime is over. 

But as Ama helps you gather their things, sensing the obvious tension between you and the olo’eyktan’s son, he realizes that he can’t just let this go. He won’t. Not without making things right, without telling you that loving you isn’t the hard part, it could never be. 

But agency is something his parents have withheld from him his entire life, molded him into being the perfect son that bends to the clan’s every beck and call. Loving you was just another thing to add to the list of things he did for everyone else’s sake but his own.

He sees now, though, sees that loving you, being in love with you isn’t a difficult feat. Not when he’s been given the smallest glance into what having a future could be like with you. Especially not when he’s learned so many things about you in the moments where you’re a fleeting plume of smoke that surrounds and chokes him all the same. 

He calls your name again, firm this time around. There’s a stutter in your step, he sees the way your shoulders draw taut with a labored sigh. 

You murmur something to Ama, undoing the ties to the netting that carries the dozing infant. Neteyam watches as you shush the kids, reminding them to be good to their tsmuke on their journey through the forest. 

Your fingers are gentle as you tie the last knot, brushing Ama’s shoulders lightly as you tell her you’ll catch up with her shortly. 

When they’re out of earshot, clambering back into the village circle, you turn on your heel, standing on the opposite side of the embankment. The glittering waters gurgle between the two of you as you wait patiently for Neteyam to muster his courage. 

“About our union,” he starts. “I–” 

“I’ve told my parents to forgo the preparations,” you say softly, seemingly unbothered as you pay more attention to the blades of grass that tickle your ankles. 

Neteyam’s spine stiffens.

“Why would you…” 

“You don’t want this,” you repeat his words from the fall out. “You don’t want us. We’ll both be unhappy.” 

It makes his heart squeeze. 

“You would be so unhappy in our union?” he scoffs, like he’s cracked the code. 

He doesn’t expect the humorless laugh that spills past your lips, obviously laden with tears when he focuses hard enough. 

“Of course I would, Neteyam,” you say fiercely, quietly. “I have spent so much of my life being so disgustingly in love with you when all you’ve wanted was me gone. Do you really think I’d let myself suffer at the expense of someone who would rather be alone than be forced to spend time with the likes of me.” 

You make it sound horrible. And perhaps it was, being so taken by someone who’s life mission was to sever every carefully stitched tie.

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s coming to terms with the fact that maybe he’s been gravely mistaken this entire time. 

“So have your freedom,” you say chillingly. “I surrender.” 

He’s closing the distance between the two of you, splashing through the shallow river to root you to place, fingers wrapped tightly around your elbow. 

You snatch away from his grasp, turning so sharply, he stumbles back. The pad of your finger pokes harshly into his chest, tear-filled eyes brimming as your gaze searches his face. 

“Don’t be heartless,” you hiss. “If there is one thing I will ask of you it is to leave me alone.” 

The distance between the two of you widens as you pluck your bow and quiver nearby and rush off into the brush, leaving Neteyam in the quieting clearing to allow the weight of your words sink to his bones. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, watching the same spot you’d disappeared past, but the forest is beginning to glow and he should be home soon. 

The entire encounter puts him on edge as he climbs through the foliage, moving over fallen logs and blooming flora. His muscles are taut, shoulders tight as he maps the long route back home.

It’s only when a sudden crack in the distance sounds that he becomes aware of how still the forest seems around him, like there are eyes and ears watching his every move. 

A look in the sky reveals a darkening swathe of midnight, leaves gleaming from outstretched branches. As he surveys his surroundings, his ears prick, picking up the most minute of sounds, rhythmic against the dense grass. 

His hand is on his dagger in an instant, eyes wild as he holds his breath. The pulse is nearing, almost insignificant against the backdrop of nature’s call, but something isn’t right and it makes nausea stir in his stomach. 

He blinks once, twice, before something closes over his mouth and a body seems to fuse against his back. 

“It’s me.” Your voice is ragged, hushed against the shell of his ear, and he nearly melts, fingers loosening from around the hilt of his knife. 

“I–” 

“Don’t speak,” you warn. “They are near.” 

He tenses again as you move your bodies behind a curtain of green, off the trodden path. 

“There are five of them,” you whisper and he shivers something fierce. “Two down, three on foot.” 

After years of training from his father, he knows who they are. 

“How did you…why do you–” 

“You didn’t return to the village,” you hiss. 

His heart skips a beat, thrumming because even if you’d been angry at him, you’d noticed his absence. Had gone looking for him, even. He turns to face you, wants to tell you that he’d do anything to make things right, but he realizes that now’s not a good time. 

You’re pale, gravely so, a feral look in your eyes as you grasp at your left side. 

Blood. You’re bleeding. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Stop,” you breathe shakily. “Not now.” 

“________, you’re wounded!” he protests. 

You slap a hand over his mouth, golden eyes widening as you press closer to him. 

He takes the opportunity to peer over your shoulder in pursuit of an exit wound and sighs when he finds the skin still intact. 

“You’re hurt,” he tries again, grabbing the wrist clutching your side. 

You shake your head vehemently. 

“Stop it, Neteyam,” you plead hoarsely. “We need to get rid of them before they find the village.” 

You’re right, he realizes, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he notes the tremble of your lip and the furrow between your brows. 

“Okay,” he swallows, nodding hesitantly. “Okay.” 

“Near the Tree of Souls,” you tell him, knees shaky as you draw an arrow and load your bow. 

You creep forward slowly, willowy frame shielding Neteyam as you move through the forest. 

He barely notices, only sees it when you pause a moment too long, body twitching as the bow quivers in your loosening grasp. 

“________?” Neteyam’s voice is testing, closing the berth. 

Your bow lowers, fingers brushing over the wound once again. When you assess the wetness of the pads of your fingers, Neteyam’s able to get a good look at the damage. 

His eyes widen, grabbing your shoulders tightly when he sees that your eyes are drooping. 

“Wait,” he says sharply. “Don’t—”

Your bloody hand brushes his chin. 

“Make sure…make sure they are…” 

“She must rest.” 

“It will only be for a moment.” 

The words slur together, distant and muddy as your eyes flicker open to assess your surroundings. 

“Maite, you are awake.” Your mother kneels next to you, expression a picture of harrowing concern. “Oh, Eywa, I’m glad you are awake.” 

It returns in waves, like the ebb and flow of water dousing you. The enemy, in bodies like your own, ruthless to creatures both gentle and roaring. Clothed like humans with gear so imposing, you nearly shrunk with such a small bow and only enough arrows to make each shot count. 

You’d taken out two of them with shaky hands before their hailing bullets pierced the trunks of trees and left gaping holes in the leaves. One had landed, lodged its way right above the left side of your pelvis. 

It aches as you sit up, seeing the aftermath of what must have been a grisly extraction. 

“Stop, stop,” your mother says quickly, hands on your shoulders to guide you back. “You will disturb Mo’at’s work.” 

“There are more of them,” you rush. “They are–” 

“Shh, my child,” she coaxes. “They are gone.” 

It had been a horrific sight, seeing Neteyam carrying you back to the village, limp and listless, covered in the blood of multiple parties with a nearly animalistic look in his eye. 

“Where is Neteyam?” you whisper, lashes wet. 

The look on your mother’s face softens with pity, knowing, as she sees it written all over your face. 

She’d known it before and she’d known it after you approached her and your father with the request to call off the union. 

I don’t love him, you’d said, unable to meet their eyes as you confessed. Eywa’s made a mistake with us. I want to be with someone that I love.

You’d been embarrassed, wanted to save face. You didn’t want them to know that the only man you’d ever known from adolescence to young adulthood hadn’t wanted a thing to do with you. 

“I’m here.” 

Neteyam’s entering the tent with your father hot on his heels, obviously defying his wishes to leave you be. 

His forearm is wrapped in medicinal leaves, tied off with thin vine. A cut slices his brow bone, the wound still red and raw. 

“I told you–” 

Your mother shoots your father a contemptuous look before turning to you to smooth some of the hair away from your face. 

“Eywa makes no mistakes, Maite,” she whispers, gaze pleading. 

She’s on her feet, crossing the tent to meet Neteyam half way. With a comforting squeeze to his shoulder, she pushes your protesting father through the hide and suddenly the air is shrouded in silence save for your labored breathing and the weight of the eldest Sully’s gaze. 

“I thought I lost you,” Neteyam says, the tiniest inflection of trembling pricking your ears. 

You blink, watching as he stands at the end of the mat. He’s fidgeting but his eyes are searing, shaking with tears as he stares at you unblinking—like you’ll disappear between the shutter of his heavy eyelids. 

You don’t know what to say, the lump lodged in your throat far too thick for you to form coherent words around. 

Neteyam continues for the both of you. 

“I thought that I wouldn’t…that I…” 

You watch as he crumbles. 

“Wouldn’t what?” you finally ask, voice dry. 

“I thought that I wouldn’t be able to give us a chance.” 

Your jaw tenses, breaking eye contact first as you shake your head in defeat. 

“There isn’t an us,” you sigh shakily. “Said so yourself.” 

“Oh, come on,” Neteyam scoffs, voice thick with tears. “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” you argue, clutching your injured side as it pulses with every beat of your thundering heart. 

“Don’t—don’t give up on me yet,” he whispers. “Please.” 

Your expression crumples and his face falls as you knuckle your tears away angrily. 

“You’re cruel, Neteyam. So so cruel,” you murmur. “I am ashamed that you have my heart.” 

The words are spoken with a quiet vindication that makes Neteyam feel like his nerve endings are fraying. A singular tear arcs over the swell of your cheek and an ache roots in his gut. 

“Don’t say that,” he says, throat bobbing as he swallows the emotion threatening to bubble over. “I–” 

“Neteyam.” Your father’s voice is stern, the flap of the tent flipping as he reenters. 

Neteyam bites the inside of his lip as he spares you one last glance and your resolve dissipates when the broad expanse of his back faces you. 

You’d expected Neteyam taking his leave to be some semblance of closure for the two of you, as clean of a break as you could come to terms with now that any precarious ties that bound the two of you were severed. But you hadn’t anticipated the singular ember inside of Neteyam fanning to be engulfing and all-consuming. 

“I know you’re there,” you say simply, plucking the petals and leaves from the flora to tuck into the small pouch strung across your chest. 

He’d been following you all afternoon, lingering a safe distance away, but his eyes haven’t left your healing frame and what had initially been confusion began to bleed into annoyance. 

“Pay me no mind,” he says simply, emerging from the brush with a bow and quiver.

It’s been over a week since the sky people had infiltrated your corner of the forest and Neteyam hasn’t let you leave his sight once.

From the morning eclipse to the evening’s, Neteyam’s doted on you; shearing chunks of fruit, grinding down your herbs for your treatments, rewrapping your wound under Mo’at’s careful supervision. 

You’d asked him to give you a moment of peace in the forest alone, but it wasn’t long before you scented him, heard his labored breathing as he tried to keep up with you. 

You heed his word, stonewalling his presence like he’s nothing but another leaf stretching from the trees. And for a while, a long stretch of silence surrounds the two of you as you venture deeper and deeper into the forest. 

But before you know it, each one of your steps is exchanged like for like, his looming and muscular frame eclipsing you like a shadow as you try to ignore the fact that he’s drawing nearer. 

You turn on your heel to face him just as he settles a pace away, eyes clear and golden. 

“What?” you snip, taking a step back. 

He takes a step forward. 

“You should not overexert yourself,” he replies simply. 

“And what happened to paying you no mind?” 

His fingers brush your sore wound and your gaze flits to the way his fingertips ghost over the dressing wrapped around the expanse of your lower abdomen. 

The grin he gives you has many layers. You immediately decipher something sly, coy, as he searches your face. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” he says quietly. “I want you to pay me all the mind.” 

Your expression is dry, eyes rolling as you step away from him. You’re swatting his palm away and shaking your head like a final warning. 

“You don’t get to flirt with me after all this time,” you say, blanketing the semi-tense air with a cover of finality. “And you shouldn’t. There is no longer an obligation for us to be within vicinity of each other.” 

You sound so cold, like you hadn’t spent the past decade pining after him in your own weird way. Like you hadn’t turned a blind eye when he found comfort in hopeful women despite wearing your heart on your oddly-stitched sleeve. Hadn’t been so willing to spend forever with him.

“You cannot dictate the turn of my heart,” Neteyam argues. 

The look you give him could instill fear in even the most intimidating predators. 

“You’d go to great lengths to quell a guilty conscience?” you ask. “Do not forget that forever is a long time. If nothing about our union piques your interest now, do not count on anything in the future.” 

You’re feeling for buttons to push, tender spots that will make him let up, but Neteyam isn’t easily swayed. He doesn’t know if he loves you now, but the last few weeks make certain that he will. He isn’t ashamed to admit that he’s falling fast and hard.  

“You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily, yawne.” 

The nickname makes you freeze, makes your eyes narrow as you glare up at the future olo’eyktan. 

“Don’t be insufferable, Neteyam.” 

“Duties be damned, I’ll spend every remaining moment doing right by you,” he says, fingers threading through yours so that he can bring your knuckles to his lips. 

Your heart wavers and he sees the way the curtain falls, eyes a fraction softer. 

He grins, tugging you closer. Moves your hair over your shoulder then skims his fingers along the sharpness of your jaw. 

It draws a shiver from you as you shift nervously, gaze fluttering from his eyes to the plush of his mouth. 

“Stop,” you whisper meekly. “We–”

“You’re mine, you hear me?” His voice is raw, edge melting away. “Union or no union. It’s always going to be you and me.” 

neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul , @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr , @mazemymirror , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts, @athenachu , @hiya-itsamber , @morks-watermelon 

First Love/ Late Spring

A/N: I had no right to listen to Mitski and write for Neteyam but here I am. I’ve been working on this on and off since December but finally decided to get serious and post it. Hope you guys like it!

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Masturbation(F receiving). Breeding Kink if ya really dig. Angst. Talks of self doubt and insecurity. All Characters are aged up 18+.

You are responsible for cultivating your own online experience, please do not interact if any of these tags are triggering to you. Minors DNI.

Summary: Neteyam has passed his Metkayinan Iknimaya, and is now free to choose a woman. Why did you ever think he would choose you? Neteyam X Na'vi Reader.

One word from you and I would jump off of this ledge I’m on, baby.

Tell me don’t so I can crawl back in- Mitski, First Love/Late Spring

As the beloved niece of the reigning Olo’eyktan, in your life you had wanted for nothing.

Had spent the last nineteen years in isolated bliss. The island of Awa’atlu and your tribes familiar inhabitants were all you knew. Your life moved to a steady beat, as sure as the morning eclipse. As rhythmic as the tides.

And you had been content, really you had. Too busy to be bored. Too beloved to truly dwell on the gap. On the absence of a mate no matter how much your Uncle; Tonowari urged you to accept one of the many offerings of courtship. Lonely maybe, but happy.

Useful. Focused.

Ever since the Sully’s arrival, you have felt anything but.

Descending from the skies on ikran back, they left plumes of sand in their wake. Shook up everything you had ever known as they stood there on the beach, adrift. Out of place, different then anything you had ever seen with their dark skin and thin tales. That morning had been a whirlwind of harsh words and brief but tense negotiations.

So much change had happened in such a small amount of time that it was hard to wrap your head around-

The leader of the Sully Tribe, Jake, had begged Uturu for his family. And ever benevolent, your Uncle Tonowari had granted it to them.

Overwhelmed by crowds, you don't recall much more of that day except for the desire to run away. To escape the strained aura’s of the hesitant clans people and the exhausted newcomers. You’d gone to away, eager to get back to your herbs and tinctures. To the safety of familiarity to digest the entire situation.

You’d been stopped in your tracks, rooted in place, by a pair of striking golden orbs.

A stare like none you’d ever known. His eyes resonated with you. Plucking a cord n your chest that echoed throughout the rest of your body. You’d never felt anything like it. Never been so affected by a stranger.

Never been so affected by anyone.

Even now, months later, thinking of Neteyam that look he’d given you on his first day here makes you hot. You dream about it, about him often. He plagues you, has taken up permanent space in your subconscious.

You wake most mornings to phantom touches. To his voice ringing in your ears and an empty bed mat that feels too cold.

This morning is no different. Your eyes flutter open with a gasp and your heart is beating madly in your chest.

It's early. You have only moments before you will be expected to wake and start your daily routine. Really, you should’ve been up by now-

Instead you lie in your corner of the family mauri, the privacy curtains pulled around your bed as you shoulder into the woven blankets. Your hands slip down- lower on your belly and into the dip of your tweng.

Between your legs you’re hot, soaked and pulsing as you always seem to be these days. Your clit swollen almost painfully as you press your fingers to it, rubbing firm little circles as you search for some kind of relief. Humping harshly into your small hand, cupping your sex desperately as you recall Dream Neteyam.

He’d pinned you to a tall palm, your belly pressing against the rough bark as buried his nose in your hair. All panting breaths and wandering hands.

“You’re so beautiful”

“I’m right here”

“Let me have you, I have to have you”

Dream Neteyam says all the things you want to hear as he ravages you. He’s sure footed, cocky in that way that you knew he could be. He’s pushy and needy and you’d give him anything if he asked for it, Eywa all he had to do is hint that he wanted it-

“Spread your legs for me, sevin ”

You bite your lips bloody, your fangs digging into them as your thick thighs clamp shut around your hands and your pussy spasms. You want to cry out as you come. Fight the urge to whine because it’s not enough, you’re still so empty.

Neteyam’s name is always on your tongue as you come down from your self induced high.

“Y/N? My Child, are you awake?”

There’s no time to bask in the afterglow, you wrench your hands away. Wiping the mess on your blankets as you shoot up straight-

“Yes? Yes. I’m coming, i’ll be out a minute” You try to keep your voice from breaking and just barley succeed.

Ronal who had peeked a head into the empty mauri isn't convinced, but accepts it anyway “Hurry now, we have to get going. The tide pools will be filling and we need to restock the sea-tsam(kelp like herbs), you haven't even eaten breakfast yet. Up!”

You only release the breath stuck in your chest when she’s scurrying back out of the home- one of these days you’re going to get caught.

Your people are free with their sexuality, there’s no shame in pleasure whether it be self inflicted or given by another. But it would make those pesky questions arise- if you’re so needy, Y/N- why do you refuse every eligible bachelor that comes your way?

You huff, thinking about that very thing as you get ready for the day. Bruising through your long hair almost violently as you chew it over.

If you need to be fucked so badly, why are you three years into adulthood without a mate? You don’t even have a possible suitor- your friends are having babies, building lives, and you’re still living with your family.

It used to be that you we’re hyper focused on your role in the clan. On your training as part of the Tsakarem. On preparing Tsireya for the day she reaches adulthood and takes over her mother’s title.

You had always been family oriented, and the clan had accepted it-

But now there were whispers. Inquiries, never spoken to you but always about you. It’s an oddity that such a pretty young woman with such high standing is choosing to be alone.

Is there something wrong with you?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The only thing that’s wrong with you is your inability to focus on the most mundane of tasks as of late.

After a quick breakfast, you’d taken off. Determined to knock the long list of chores down.

You’d collected herbs until your fingers hurt and the satchel slung across your chest was full to the brim. You’d tended to the Elders, and checked in on the mother with newborns, still so fresh to the world that they’re connected to their Sa’nok kuru, constant Tsaheylu necessary at such a young age.

Healing isn't always glamorous, and while you’d much rather be mixing potions and sketching in your journals- you check fevers. Change chamber pots. Kiss the scraped knee’s of young ones.

You’re supposed to be heading back to the Healer’s Mauri, the large hut where Ronal waits for you-

But instead you get sidetracked.

It’s all you seem to do these days.

Lounging in the soft warm sand is so much easier then running around the village.

You’d come across your cousins who were circled by Roxto and the elder Sully’s, and it hadn't taken much convincing for you to tag along on whatever little adventure they had planned for the afternoon. It had led you to one of the smaller isles, a tiny thing that was mostly white sand beaches and deep rocky cove tunnels.

Lo’ak and Ao’nung practicing their breath holds, taking turns weaving through the underwater caves. The two had went from going for each others throat’s to thick as thieves, and your glad. Lo’ak’s troubled, but he’s not trouble. Not the way that your cousin's other asshole friends are.

Roxto and Neteyam wade through the crystal clear shallows, hunting for clams that are abundant at this time of year.

You’re sat with Kiri and Tsireya, the three of you staying in the beach and giggling about current clan gossip. Chattering endlessly.

Neteyam’s shoulders are broad and glisten in the bright afternoon sun. You can barely tear your gaze away from him. Hungrily, needing to glance back every few seconds-

“The celebration is in less then a month's time” Tsireya states, a small grin playing on her lips as she takes in the scene.

She knows about your feelings for the eldest Sully son, you’d confessed them to her in a fit one night. Unable to keep them caged in your chest anymore. She can understand the appeal- her own eyes had been glued to the family since the arrival.

What she can't understand is why you wont tell him- or at the very least why you’re being so damn shy about it. You had never been this demure before.

“I know, the preparations have been a real pain in my ass” You reply, turning on your side to face her. Arm bent at the elbow, chin propped in your hand. “Tonowari has me assisting with getting the ceremonial mats woven. It’s not fair”

“I think he just wants you to be…a more active participant this year” Tsireya chooses her words wisely, ignoring your side eye “It’s sweet”

“It’s annoying” you hiss, eyes rolling harshly. Your tail swishes behind you, a firm pat on the sand.

“This is the celebration that’s held for the hunters. The ones that pass their Iknimaya’s?” Kiri asks, intrigued. She’s inquisitive and you’d assured her early on that she could ask you anything, that you’d help her understand the customs of your people.

“Yes and it’s so much fun. You’ll see, the Hunters come back from Motnaui(ritualistic hunt) and we spend the day roasting their catch, thanking Eywa for her abundance. There’s dancing and singing- “ Tsireya’s eyes sparkle as she talks about it, glazed with nostalgia.

You let her rant a bit more before cutting her off, “And mating. Most of the hunters will stake their claim on any courtships that have been started”

Because yes, it is a celebration for the newly joined adults of the clan, but goes hand in hand with the fact that it is their first chance to choose a mate.

“We have something like this back in the forest, it's the start of Fertility Season right?” Kiri verifies and you nod. “Does it coincide with the rains here, too?”

“Mhmm, most newly mated pairs will spend the week or so tucked away…-” Tsireya’s cheeks get red and you roll your eyes.

“Coupling” You interject and she shoots you a look that has you tittering. Awe, your sweet young cousin, still a year away from her own Iknimaya. Innocent and shy when it comes to such topics.

Kiri doesn't look scandalized- she’d come to adulthood back in the forest. Though she hasn't chosen a mate she had partaken in many of the festivities.

“Yes, coupling” Tsireya continues. “Its all beautiful really, its my favorite time of year. Right after the return of the Tulkun of course”

Its nice listening to your cousin's version of the celebration. You think that yeah, your own view of it all used to be mostly the same. That was until you’d reached adulthood, and had spent the last cycles without a mate of your own. This week that Tsireya found so beautiful had just been wet for you. Yourself and other unmated , able bodied Na’vi took on the duties of the disposed clan members.

It was an honor to take care of your people while they were vulnerable.

It was embarrassing to have not found a mate of your own yet.

You wonder if this year you’d spend the week in the rain again.

“You don't seem excited” Kiri whispers and you force a smile onto your face almost instantly, not wanting to come off so extremely transparent.

“It’s not that I’m not-”

“Y/N hasn't mated yet”

“Obviously Tsireya, thank you for pointing that out” you deadpan at the girl but she continues on, not phased in the least by your attitude-

“But I do think that will change this year”

Kiri perks up, big eyes interested, a brow arched “Really? Has someone caught your eye? Every time any one even tries to start courting you, you give them the cold shoulder”

“That’s not true, I’m nice about it” you defend your actions “I just haven't been interested in any of their offers”

“‘Their’ being half of the unmated men in this clan” Kiri’s sarcasm rivals your own, you flick a small shell at her forehead.

“It hasn't felt right and Eywa wouldn't want me to settle. '' The words taste condescending as they roll off your tongue, you don't blame them for scoffing at you but it's true.

If you had accepted an offer in the past, you wouldn't be free to follow your hearts desire now…your eyes flick back to the shore. Back to the broad shoulders.

“I’m sure whoever you choose will be honored,” Kiri chuckles. “Surprised though, probably. I overheard a couple of Elder’s making bets that you’d make another suitor cry this year”

The peel of laughter that Tsireya lets out is shrill and loud,

Roxto and Neteyam’s heads turn, far out enough now that the surely cant hear the conversation but can hear the shrieks of joy. Roxto grins and signs something that you can't quite make out and Neteyam gives a small wave.

You can feel the big stupid smile on your face, it’s no surprise that Kiri acknowledges it.

“You didn't answer my question. Is there anyone in particular that you have your eye on?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. You’d been wanting to run it past her for weeks. Desperate for her insight but too embarrassed to muster up the courage and ask for it.

“Tell her, tsmuk’tu” Tsireya urges gently.

“I have been hoping that…Neteyam might choose to court me. After his Iknimaya” You admit it, carefully watching her for her reaction. Your own ears are pressed to your head, your fingers winding around each other nervously.

“I was wondering why that idiot was going through his rites again” Kiri nods, like she’d found the missing piece of a puzzle.

One that she wasn't willing to share with the group.

“What’do you mean? If he wants to be a hunter, he has to” You point out the facts, the law of the village.

“Well yeah, but I mean look at how our dad did it. He didn't jump through all of the hoops, he just tamed his Skimwing on his own time. My brother has been adamant about wanting to be apart of ceremony”

You ingest Kiri’s words greedily, letting them expand in your chest. It’s hope, the fragile kind, the scariest kind.

“Maybe he just wants to prove himself as a hunter. We’ve heard his skill is legendary to the Omiticaya” you suggest and Tsireya pushes at your shoulder, shaking her head.

“Maybe” Kiri shrugs her shoulders “But mating is important to Neteyam. He’s always wanted a big family, I think he really idolized our parents' marriage. Mom said he must’ve taken an interest in a mate if he’s making such a big deal out of being a recognized adult here”

A big family. Neteyam wants to be a father.

The thought is heady. The seed has been planted in your head and you know there is no way that you will ever be able to dig it out.

“Do you think that-”

You're cut off by booming laughter, by clatter and chaos. Who else could it be but Ao’nung and Lo’ak coming back from the caves, they had the worst possible timing. You shoot daggers at your cousins fat head.

“What are you girls whispering about over here?” 'Nung teases as he drops next to you in the sand,

“That would be none of your business” You snipe, “Skxawng ass”

“Why so hostile, cuz?” Ao’nung starts “I was the one who invited you out here? You don't want to spend time with little ol’ me?”

“I spend too much time with you as is. I was hoping you had drowned down in those caves so I could get a break- NUNG!” you squeal as your cousin shakes his head, wringing out his wet hair all over you. The water is shockingly cold against your sun soaked skin.

Soon enough, Neteyam and Roxto come in from the waves, baskets full of multicolored shells. More than happy to share as they join the small circle.

“You had such a bountiful catch!” Tsireya applauds, happily accepting the oysters that Roxto offers.

You’re awkward around Neteyam on a good day- there's something so intimidating about his beauty. So tall and angular. But today? After the admittance you’d made to his sister? You can barely look at him.

You feel heavy and clunky and ugh, why does he make you so nervous? You’re playing with your hair, twisting the thick tendrils around your fingers idly when Neteyam turns to you.

“Do you want some?” He asks, already prying the tough shell open with his knife.

“Oh, yes please. They’re actually my favorite” You grin, and at least your voice doesn't project all the nerves you feel.

“I know” He hands you the oyster once he opens it and you try not to pay too much mind to how his fingers brush yours.

“How would you know that?” you slurp at the rich juice, grateful.

“Roxto was telling me about it” He says simply, already working open another shell to hand out.

“Oh yeah! Y/N remember when you ate so many of these that you got sick at dinner! I’ve never seen someone puke that much, it was never ending” Roxto chuckles, igniting laughter from the group.

You wince, the memory is not a particularly good one and you don't enjoy reliving it. Especially not in current company. You can feel your cheeks heat intensely.

“It was so bad! You got it all over dad’s lap and he didn't know what to do” Ao’nung adds hysterically “He just started panicking- picked you up by your tail and tossed your ass outside”

Tsireya breaks, giggling behind her hand and Kiri all but chokes. Lo’aks shaking his head good naturedly as Ao’nung and Roxto are in stitches- the only one who doesn't laugh is Neteyam. No, instead he gives you a gentle kind of smile, before going back to his task of shucking.

You’re only the butt of the joke for moments more before it ping-pongs to Lo’ak, who has almost cut one of his odd five fingers off in the process of prying open an ornery shell.

“Oh! Look brother, how pretty” Kiri points out the large blush colored pearl that Neteyam had almost swallowed.

“That’s good luck!” You grin “They don't usually get that big”

Huh. Good luck you say?” Neteyam picks it out of the shell, holding it between his thumb and pointer as he examines how it shines in the sun. Beautiful…

You’re frozen when he reaches out, the pearl in the palm of his hand.

“Here” he offers it to you.

The purple flush that completely takes over your face crawls down your neck too. You're completely flustered by the simple gesture of good will.

You should tell him that you can’t take it- that he should give it to Tuk, his little sister that loves making jewelry. Instead you’re hungry for anything, will accept any scraps of himself that Neteyam will give to you.

“Irayo” you beam as you accept the pear, tucking it away in your satchel for safe keeping. “I love it!”

He just gives you another one of those ever soft boyish grins, his eyes pools of liquid amber.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As the weeks go by, there’s a certain light to you. A bounce in your step,

“Your aura has changed” Ronal informs you of the fact as the two of you sit in the Healers Mauri, plumes of heavy incense filling the space with fragrant smoke.

She’s far into her pregnancy now, but that has never stopped her from completing her duties. The salves she mixes with an expertise that comes from years of trial and error are potent and coveted.

Your lips quirk into a private smile as your fingers continue their threading. Working on a personal project in between your chores. “Has it really?”

She assesses you, her turquoise eyes all knowing as she takes you in. You’re a woman grown now far from the small child she had taken in with her husband all those years ago. In theses last few months you have blossomed, like a flower unfurling. She had an inkling of why-

“You are thinking of accepting courtship this cycle, yes?” It’s not a question, but a statement. One she already knows the answer to.

“I am” you whisper. “If he decides to pursue me, that is”

The comfortable quiet is back, both of you focusing on your respective tasks. You’d always been content just to bask in your Aunt’s presence.

“The Sully boy would be a fool not to court you” Ronal breaks the silence bluntly and you really should've had expected that she already knew.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Where dread usually lives in your heart at this time of year, lies only excitement. Joy, that fragile hope as you prepare for the festival. Anyone who knows you can see the change, you throw yourself head first into ceremony prep. Spend hours sitting with Tsireya eagerly sowing together new pieces of clothing for the festivities.

You sing as you tend to your house work, sweet little tunes that your family is surprised to hear.

Tonowari is beaming, endlessly happy that you are going to give a member of the clan a chance. He’d been questioning your self induced isolation for years, and was eager to see which of his warriors had stolen your heart. Ronal refuses to tell him even though he knows she knows,

“It is not mine to share” his wife rebuff’s every time he questions.

As the day of the Iknimaya draws closer you try to make sure that Neteyam knows that you are open to courtship. You spend a decent amount of time with his family anyway, Tsireya and Lo’ak always connected at the hip and Kiri growing into a close friend.

You ask him about his training, tend to any wounds he may aquire diligently. Laugh at his bad jokes, and listen to his stories of home. He misses the forest, you can tell. You selfishly hope that there isn't a pretty Omaticayan girl waiting for him.

At dinner, in the largest communal mauri, filled to the brim with clans members who are all but vibrating with excitement for the close looming festivities, you navigate the people.

In your hands, a large plate made from a recycled shell piled is high. Fish roasted over the fire, steamed rice and root vegetables that you had harvested yourself.

You’d watched Neteyam along with a handful of other training warriors limp into dinner late. They look tired and worn down.

He’d plopped down next to his family without getting himself food, and that just wouldn't do.

“Jake, Neytiri- I see you” You greet his parents as you approach. The sit close together, always intertwined in one way or another.

‘He idolizes our parents marriage’

You understand Kiri’s words as you watch Toruk Makto and his mate, as you appraise their close bond.

Jake grins, Tuk in his lap. Greeting you right back, easy to conversate with. Neytiri is quieter, hard to read. Intimidating, just like Neteyam who favors her so much in looks. Still the older woman signs the greeting back to you.

“You look really rough” is not what you meant to say to their son. Neteyams brow bones rise and you could kick yourself. Definitely would later.

“Thanks, I feel it” Neteyam responds with a tired chuckle.

Instead you laugh too, albeit awkwardly, trying to remedy the situation “What I mean is, you didn't get yourself food- and I know how exhausting training can be. Here, please eat. I’d hate for you to lose strength this close to your rite”

He accepts the plate of food graciously and you try to ignore the heavy feeling of eyes on you. His families, the clans. People have noticed you, have noticed this act of service. There’s only one thing it can mean.

“Irayo Y/N, I appreciate you” he thanks, making room for you on the log that he’s sat atop “Would you like to sit with us?”

“Very much so- but I promised Elder Raou’wal that I would help him back to his mauri. His legs don't work like they used to, and I don't want him to fall again-” you curse your nature, the fact that you offer your help so freely.

All you want to do is take that seat, so close to Neteyam that your thighs would press against one and others.

“That is very kind” Neteyam soothes “It’s okay, another time”

“Yes, another time” You know you sound like an idiot. You feel like an idiot. Standing before him and his family uninvited.

You need to make a quick escape, overwhelmed by all of the attention. “Please, get some rest before tomorrow. I’ve had to tend to over worked warriors all week”

Neteyam’s grin…is something else. Something not so sweet. Something that makes you flustered, that he’s looking at you like that in front of his parents, in front of the tribe. “Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Will you be there, tomorrow?”

“Of course I will” your response is quick, eager and it just makes that look on his face more intense.

“Good. Then I know everything will go well” his words make your heart beat so loudly your ears ring.

You don’t even know what to say, can barley keep your cool as you utter goodbye to his family, all of them quite obviously amused as you begin to scurry away.

You know the blush is burning up your whole face, that everyone can see your feelings as clear as day.

But-

You can’t leave him like that. Not with him facing is Iknimaya in the morning, with all of its promises of danger.

“May Eywa be with you, tomorrow and always” you give him the quiet blessing, truly hoping that the great mother looks over him.

He softens, physically. All of him slumping, as though you had put a balm on a jagged cut.

You don't wait for a reply.

Tonowari watches the exchange from his place at the head of the room,

Oh.

That is who had caught your eye, the warrior that had broken your resolve.

He shares a look with Ronal, his eyes comically wide and she laughs lowly at him.

“Ah my love, you have always been so slow”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Iknimaya rituals go as they always go, a long day full of young, strong hearted Na’vi eager to prove themselves. Most of them don’t succeed, at least half of them will need to wait until the next cycle to attempt it again.

Your family is at the center, you stand proudly behind Olo’eyktan Tonowari and Tsahik Ronal as they guide the young clan members through the rite of passage. Tsireya beside you, knowing that next cycle it will be her and Lo’ak attempting their own rites. Ao’nung cheering on young hunters that he had trained himself.

You love all of your people, the Metkayina one beating heart under Eywa’s watchful eye- yet you can't tear your focus away from Neteyam.

Your eyes are glued to him, and him only. The entire time. You watch, anxious and in awe. He’s so strong, all lean muscle and sharp mind. He mounts his Skimwing on the first try, much to the surprise of his peers. The people cheer him on, whopping loudly.

He’s beautiful, capable and skilled. He’s…stolen something from you. Abducted your soul, enthralled your thoughts in a way that almost felt intrusive.

You watch as the son of the first becomes a son of the sea, a man in both the Metkayina and Omiticaya tribes. A feat that almost none have accomplished.

The Motnaui is tradition, the freshly rited hunters will join the seasoned on a days long hunt. The time in the open ocean solidifies their bond to the tribe, their place that they have earned. Their chief will join them. Tonowari is eager, ecstatic for the time he gets to spend with his new hunters. With his ever growing tribe.

Everyone gathers to see the hunters off, so much love filling the crowded beach. Your people a buzz, tearful. Joyous.

You trail your fingers over the colorful Lei that lies around your neck. It matches the floral wreath nestled atop your head; the orchids are vibrant shades of fuchsia pinks and sunset yellows to represent your family.

They come in all shades, neon greens and baby blues, lilac purples and vibrant reds.

They are traded between your people at this time of year. Elders give them to children, sisters to their brothers. Tonowari wears many around his neck, the visual representation of how beloved he is to his clan.

To give a Lei can be friendly and platonic, sure. Especially if it is one of the dozens that are made just to be handed out- if a person wears multiple for clear decoration and celebration purposes only.

It can also be a very clear invitation for courtship- or at the very least consensual coupling. If a woman takes her lei off her own neck and presents it to a man, it is a sign of ownership. Marking that the specific male is taken for the duration of the fertility season.

You need to give Neteyam yours before he leaves, you want him to know that he has you. That you are his- and that you want him to be yours. That you will wait for him as he hunts and when he returns, he can have all of you.

You’re trying to find him in the crowd, your eyes scanning for the familiar dark blue skin that stands out so shockingly amongst your people-

Neteyam is with his family, all of them exuding proud energy. His mother cups his face in her lithe hands, his sisters hold onto his arms. His father pats his shoulder and his brother stares at him like he’s hung the stars.

You don't want to intrude on the moment, but you have to catch him before he leaves-

It’s like watching a horrible accident, like being witness to carnage that you just can't stop.

Seychelle, a clans member two years your junior, is beautiful. She’s a skilled singer and the daughter of a high ranking fisherman. She’s tall and shapely with pretty eyes, and its her first cycle as an eligible adult. As a woman grown who is available to mate.

She walks right up to Neteyam and his family boldly. Unafraid or ridden by anxiety like you always seem to be. All flirty smiles and fluttering lashes.

You’re too far away, can't hear what she says but you wouldn't want to anyway. Your chest is caving in and you feel like you can't breathe, your ears ring with the lack of oxygen.

You could challenge her. You have a high standing in the clan. You have first choice when it comes to mates,

But instead you just stand there. Bare witness to her taking off her bright orange Lei and slip it around Neteyams neck. He accepts it without a fuss, grinning and you can see his mouth form the words “thank you”.

Your nose burns and tears prick threateningly at your eyes but you know you can not let them fall. Not here.

You do what you do best;

You run away.

Not bothering to explain your exit to anyone, you probably couldn't form words around the lump in your throat anyway, you run as fast as you can. The world feels very far away, like it exists without you in it.

Your family mauri is empty, everyone's still at the beach and you don't even bother making it to your bed. You collapse right inside the entrance as the tears finally over take you and your eyes flood over.

What were you thinking?

How had you read this whole thing so wrong?

Your mind is dangerous, cruel in its confused, hurt state. It assaults you and you sob into your hands. You feel stupid now, in the special clothes you'd donned. Your hair twisted meticulously-

He had never been interested in you, you’d taken his innate kindness and skewed it. Neteyam had just been nice to you and you being the simple minded girl you were- had tried to force it into something more.

You curse yourself, curse your heart. Curse that fragile hope that you had clung to so desperately.

You cry until you feel sick, your eyes swollen and back tight from sobbing. You’re dizzy and tired by the time you crawl over to your bed. You don't even get under the covers, just stare blankly at the wall of the mauri as tears roll down your cheeks.

Who knew one person could produce so many tears? You wonder when your body will run out. You don't know how much time passes, only aware that darkness starts to fill the space as the evening eclipse arises.

“Oh, YN” the silence is broken by your cousin's soft voice.

Tsireya had wondered where you had gone, had been confused about your departure until she clocked Neteyam with a Lei around his neck that was quite obviously not yours.

“I’m sorry” Is all she whispers as she slips into the bed next to you, her arm winding around your middle.

It starts a whole nother round of tears. Of crying, mourning what you thought you could have.

“I-I-I’m so s-stupid” you stutter, snotty and muffled. She shakes her head, tears of her own starting to form as she holds you tighter.

“No, don't say that cousin. You’re not stupid” Tsireya soothes as she pets your hair. It hurts to see you in such a state. This had to be a mistake, she had been so sure of Neteyams feelings for you. Everyone had.

You shake your head, because you know you are. You knew you had little chance and still you’d paraded yourself in front of him like an idiot.

Never again, you vow to yourself.

To your shattered heart.

Wow, okay I didnt expect this to be so big, but I got so caught up in Metkayina Lore building that I kind of got sidetracked. Safe to say 90% of this story is going to be canon divergent. All of this Lore is my own creation and not Mr. Cameron's.

I have to give a shout out to two authors in the Avatar fandom that have inspired me the most as I write this.

@tiredmamaissy has really carved out a niche when it comes to the sexual nature of Pandora. I love the way she portrays Na'vi relationships and if this story leans a bit A/B/O its because I cant see the Na've not going to Heat's/Ruts now. She's just so good.

@loaksky when I tell you that reading her work makes me want to hone my craft, I mean that shit. She is a wordsmith in a way that you don't see much anymore. I am obsessed with how she long hand story tells and I def feel inspired everytime I read one of her fics. Queen of will they wont they/ slow burn.