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The Lie of Providence - Recom/Na'vi Miles Quaritch x Na'vi Female Reader - Masterlist
Rating: Adult, Explicit (eventually) Relationships: Recom Miles Quaritch x AFAB Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: Slow Burn, Romance, Redemption Arc, Angst, Comfort, Family, Sibling Shenanigans, Eventual Smut, Fluff (might add more later), Dreams don't make sense, Ewya is testing you and you have not studied Author's Note: I don't know what I'm doing LMAO! I havn't written fanfic in over a decade?? But I keep reading deliectable Quaritch x Reader fics so I got inspired to try my own! I hope you enjoy :)
Summary: You are the eldest child of Jake & Neytiri. When you were a child, you had strange dreams of a Human man. As you grew older, so did your frequent dream visits. He is cold and mean to you. You don't understand why. Yet despite his disposition, sometimes he does engage with you in conversation. Miles is his name. But one day, the visits suddenly stop. You chalk it up to the imagination of a child. Yes that's what he was; an imaginary friend. Yet when you and your siblings are suddenly in trouble, caught in the clutches of Dreamwalkers, you are unsettled to see a familiar face. Though he doesn't seem to recognize you at all.
Chapter Index:
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 (coming soon)
Jealousy? You Wear it Well
word count: 1529
Pairing: Ao'nung x Omatikayan! Sully! Female! Na'vi Reader Tags: fluff, romance, cute, silly, oneshot Author's note: A quick oneshot dedicated to @royallaufeyson! Saw their post asking for this pairing fluff and thought I'd give it a go. Hopefully it's too your liking :)
Ao’nung considers himself many great things; strong, skilled hunter, a remarkable swimmer. But jealous? No, never. Why would he be jealous? And of that stupid ikran? Perish the thought. What’s there to be jealous about really? Nothing, that’s what!
Yet here he finds you, his darling Omatikayan future mate, tending to your ikran, instead of meeting up with him like you were supposed to an hour ago.
You don’t even hear his approach, and that in itself stirs an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. You have your back to him, standing before your own ikran. You’re rubbing his neck and humming soothing words as he rests his head on your shoulder. Naturally, the accursed beast is the first to spot his approach.
Suddenly his head is off your shoulders and he hisses with a faux threat, his attention behind you.
“Hoan?” You look up at your ikran, confused by his sudden change in attitude. Noticing his gaze is fixated on something behind you, angry at something intruding on your alone time, you turn around to see what the fuss is about.
A wide grin splits your face, recognizing the would-be intruder as your beloved future mate.
“Ao’nung!” His name slips through your lips like siren song, turning your whole lithe form to him and jog to meet his approach halfway. No matter how many times he sees you, once again is he left awestruck by your visage. As you run to him, those untamed locks flowing freely behind you, your form is caught in the last rays of sunlight before eclipse; a golden luster leaving kisses upon your skin.
And he melts. Ready is he to prostrate himself before such beauty. He catches you in his strong arms with little effort, you are so light and lithe coming from the forest.
Your arms instinctually wrap around his neck and you kiss him without hesitation. A short quick peck and you pull away to look down into his eyes, pale blue meeting gold.
“Hi,” you say and he returns your smile as he places you on your feet once more. You don’t untangle your arms around his neck. His hands are on hips, holding you close.
“Hi yourself,” he says cheekily, placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Oel ngati kameie.”
“Oel ngati kameie,” you say back with a smile.
Hoan makes an annoyed huff behind you, clacking his jaw a few times. You turn to look at him, ears perked up.
“Hoan, what’s gotten into you recently?” Your attention is immediately pulled to your ikran, instantly removing your arms from Ao’nung’s neck as you make your way back to the creature in question. You don’t see the slight frown that forms on your beloved’s face as he watches you walk away. But your hand catches his, and without looking back, you pull him along with you. A roll of the eyes, ‘of course this thing needs you right this very moment’ he laments to himself.
“Sweet boy, what’s got you huffing and chuffing?” As you ask this you let go of Ao’nung’s, placing both hands on either side of Hoan’s face. “Are you still hungry?” you look to the side and see the fish portions remain untouched.
“Hmm…He must grow tired of the same meal. Poor thing must miss yerik and talioang meat.” You lament as you rub his neck soothingly. He makes a light trilling noise as you do. “Maybe you prefer some soft-shell meat, yes? I think I saw some in a pool nearby. Ao’nung, can you keep an eye on him? I’ll be right back!”
“Well I—” and before he can even protest, you’ve sprinted off, his arm outstretched to your retreating form. After a beat he drops his arm back to his side and sighs deeply. An awkward silence permeates the air. He can feel Hoan staring at the back of his head. Probably plotting his demise. He turns then, fixing a scowl at the creature, though mindful not to make direct eye contact.
“There’s probably nothing wrong with you, is there?” he asks, as if the beast would understand him perfectly. Hoan blinks, tilting his head from side to side as if confused, cawing at him.
“Oh don’t you play innocent with me. You kept her here on purpose didn’t you? Think you’re real smart hogging all her attention.”
Hoan doesn’t give away any indication he understood anything directed at him. Instead he busies himself cleaning the inner parts of his wing; utterly ignoring Ao’nung it seems.
The boy in question shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Turning around to once again face the direction you went.
“Skxáwng ikran…” he mutters to himself.
SMACK!
His hand flies to the back of his head, something having hit him. He turns around and looks down, finding a portion of sand and drool covered fish at his heals. He frowns and looks up Hoan, the offending creature has his head buried in his other wing.
Ao’nung eyes him up and down, taking a few steps back before turning around once more. Where the heck were you?
SMACK!
“Hey!” He turns around angrily and again he finds fish at his heels while Hoan is preening himself; the picture of innocence. “You better stop that or else!” A fool Ao’nung is then, to turn his back once more, because as soon as he does—
SMACK!
This time when he turns around, Hoan is instead looking right at him. The offending creature honks at him rhythmically, and to the annoyed Ao’nung, that almost sounds a damn laugh. Without a second thought, he picks up the nearest piece of fish and lobs it at Hoan’s head. He hits him square in the face, the fish leaving a sandy red kiss to his temple.
Were it possible, Ao’nung thinks the face Hoan’s giving him right now would be that of the utter most offence anyone has ever taken in the history of the forever. He picks up another piece and throws it Ao’nung, hitting him in the chest and leaving the same gross smelly mark.
“So you have chosen war.” Ao’nung states, a war cry leaves his lips and he grabs the pieces near him into his arms, throwing them at Hoan.
The ikran responses immediately, a loud hiss and raw at Ao’nung, this time he grabs as many pieces in his mouth as he can, throwing them haphazardly at his opponent, some missing him completely.
The two of them go at it for a while, the pieces becoming nearly unrecognizable as time passes. All the while, Ao’nung laughs, what a silly thing he finds himself doing, having a, fish war, with your ikran. The beast itself making all manner of caws, bellows, yips, snarls and chirps.
So engrossed are the two of them that they naturally do not here your approach until it is too late.
“By the Great Mother, what is going on here???”
Immediately they both stop, dead still are they, like two naughty children being caught red handed. They turn to you then, you standing off to the side, a small basket balanced on your hips, filled with various molluscs.
Ao’nung drops the pieces he’s holding, straightening up and clearing his throat.
“Well you see, [Y/N], we were just—” another piece hits him in the side of the head. He turns and frowns at Hoan, who has his head facing the other way, turned to the sky as if the most interesting thing he’s ever seen is there right now.
“Pffft….Pffthahahahaha!” A melodious laugh bursts forth from you, and Ao’nung turns to you alarmed; a light blue dust paints itself up his neck and across his cheeks. “The two of you are ridiculous! Look at you! Covered in sand and fish blood.” You shake your head, smile never wavering. You set the basket beside Hoan, knowing you wouldn’t have to shuck the creatures yourself. It will be good for him to use his wing claws to pry them open.
“Silly boy, Hoan!” You tease and make tsaheylu. “Make sure you wash yourself thoroughly before you return to the others. Else Bob will never let you forget,” you say out loud for Ao’nung’s benefit before disconnecting and approaching said boy.
He huffs at you and turns away.
There is a cheeky smile on your face as you look up at him, arms behind your back.
“So…”
“So…?”
“Having fun without me?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about honestly.”
You shake your head at his antics and grab his hand.
“Come, let’s get you cleaned up in the heated pools,” you say and walk off, pulling him behind you by your joint hands.
You turn to look at him behind you, not slowing your pace as you do.
“And Ao’nung?”
“Yes?”
“Jealousy? You wear it well yawne,” you tease him, letting the word roll of your tongue, dripping in liquid gold. You can’t help but giggle when you see the shocked look on his face, the darkening of his skin renewed tenfold. He turns his face elsewhere.
“Sh—shut up…”
You laugh once again facing forward and squeeze his hand.
He smiles contently, and gently squeezes back.
----
Oel ngati kameie - I see you
yerik - the hexapede
talioang - the sturmbeest
skxáwng - stupid/moron/idiot
yawne - my love
What Do I Tell My Friends Family? Pt. 7
word count: 4611
Pairing: Recom! Miles! Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi! Reader Tags/Warnings: smut, light bondage, dirty talk, pregnancy sex, light degradation, p in v, family, fluff, feelings, crying, comfort, acceptance
Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long everyone! Hope you enjoy :)))
<previous chapter> | 7 |
The sound of rain pulls you from slumber. The air is thick and humid this morning. You breath deep, the salty air filling your lungs, wiping away the last dregs of sleep.
Your beloved is not beside you; ever the early morning riser that one. Neither are the twins nor Spider, you notice.
With a groan you slowly sit yourself up, having to exert more effort than usual. Once up, your hand moves to the swell of your belly. Shouldn’t be too long now before this one joins your ever-growing little family. You estimate you have about 2 months to go.
You open your home to allow the fresh air in. You reach out to gather some of the cool summer rainwater in your hands, splashing it on your face. You light a small fire in the pit, then set about preparing some meats to cook for breakfast. While those sizzle, you then prepare some fresh fruit that had been left outside your doorstep; the clan often leave you things as their way of helping, knowing you’re due almost any day now.
“Somethin’ smells good,” your ear perk up at the sound of Miles’ voice.
“Good morning, husband,” you greet but don’t turn around. You don’t have to, because before you finish speaking, his arms are already around you. His hot breath tickles the back of your neck as he leaves soft kisses there.
“How’re my best girls this morning?” his hands gently cup the swell of your belly, gently swaying the two of you to some unheard tune. He presses his chest to your bare back, the cool wet skin of his sends a delicious shiver down your spine.
“Oh? And how do you know we are not blessed with more sons?” You smile at him over your shoulder.
“Father’s intuition sweetheart,” He leans to the side presses a quick kiss to your lips. He pulls back, pressing the side of his face to yours as he peers over your shoulder as you continue preparing fruit.
You hum thoughtfully at his words. You wouldn’t mind having a daughter. Or two. Eywa have mercy if you have another set of twins. Speaking of your children…
“Where are the boys?”
“Spider took them swimming, they’re at the heated pools in the jungle.” You make a noncommittal noise in acknowledgement.
“You know…with the kids busy, we have a little time to ourselves right now…” his hands travel from your belly, slowly tracing the length of your arms, before his hands rest in the crook of your neck. He starts massaging the base of your head with his thumbs. Your eyes close at the pleasurable sensation, moaning unexpectedly.
“You’re insatiable, you know that?” You tease him with a side eyed look. He grins down at you, eyes glazed over with desire. His gaze alone sends a pleasurable throb straight down to your core.
“Can’t help it darlin’. Seeing you like this, all big, belly swollen, and knowin’ it’s cuz of me? It does somethin’ to a man,” he bites the tip of your ear, and you let out an involuntary whimper; he knows all of your erogenous zones, and they become far more sensitive during pregnancy.
“Show me then my love, show me what I do to you.”
---
He has you trapped between his legs. Your back pressed to his chest as you lean back, head resting on his shoulder as you gasp between moans.
Your legs are draped over his thighs, keeping you spread. One hand gently massages the flesh of your breast, fingers occasionally pinching your pert nipple.
His other hand is busy at your core, 3 fingers deftly working their way in an out of your warm centre, making filthy squelches with each thrust. Your arousal coats his fingers and your thighs in inviting wetness. You are more than ready for him. But he loves playing with you, especially when you are at his mercy.
He removes his middle finger, bringing it to your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud in your slick. His finger glides over with ease thanks to your gushing nectar.
“Oh fuck…Miles right there—YES!” Your voice is breathless as you beg him for release; the pleasure coursing through you burning hotter as you approach the precipice of desire.
He returns his fingers to your inviting warmth, your walls sucking him in greedily. His fingers meet no resistance with how wet you are. He fucks his fingers into you faster this time, the palm of hand slapping against your clit, sending you further into the throws of passion. The symphony of your pleasure comes crashing down on you; the orgasm hitting you with a resounding crescendo. A rough press to your clit has you squirting much to yours and his delight.
“That’s it baby, you always perform so well for me.” Miles whispers into your ear, nipping at the nape of your neck. The feeling of your inviting walls clenching around his fingers sends blood straight to his hardened aching cock.
This was always the ritual. Always would he bring you to glorious orgasm, before chasing his own pleasure. Even if the two of you had an argument, falling into something in line with hate sex, he made sure to prepare you well. No matter what, you were always at the forefront of his mind.
You rest your entire weight against him, chest heaving with each laboured breath. Your skin is sticky with sweat, pussy throbbing, your release leaking all over the floor. You feel Miles’ hardness press into your lower back. He presses a kiss to your shoulder.
“Do you need a minute?” He asks ever to tenderly.
“For you my love? Never.” You turn yourself as much as you can, arms reaching for him. He understands what you want, immediately turning you to him. He pulls your arms around his neck, securing his behind your back, then crashing his lips to yours.
The kiss is bruising. He sucks on your lips, pressing his tongue to yours, drinking you in greedily as though you were destined to fade. He swallows the moan you release into his mouth. His hand moves to the base of your queue and he pulls you back.
Your eyes are mystified, glazed over from residual pleasure, but alight once more at the promise you see in his own eyes. They are dark with want, pupils dilated with heady need. He licks his teeth as he studies your face, a smirk forming on his lips.
He stands up, pulling you with him. You watch him curiously as he moves elsewhere, searching; there is an amusing flick of the tail when he finds it. He holds the item triumphantly in the air before coming back to you.
Ah. Rope.
He always did love restraints.
“You trust me, sweetheart?” You scoff, almost offended he needs to ask you for umpteenth time.
“Since our first night in the Dream my love. Always and forever.” Your smile is matched by his own.
“Hold your hands up, behind your head.” You do as instructed. The rope this not too thick, black and woven with expertise only a machine could craft. It was something you brought with you all those years ago. You figured it would be most useful; nothing hand crafted had yet matched it in quality. What you hadn’t expected was for your mate to use it in such, creative ways. Not that you complain; you were of course more than delighted to engage in his fantasies.
He fastens your wrists together tightly. The length is then wound around your neck, dropping between your breasts before he loops it around your mounds. It lowers through your cleavage and around the back; always he keeps it away from your belly. He nudges your legs apart. The rope is then wrapped around each hip and thigh.
He moves behind you then, pulling your fastened hands behind his head. His hands roam over you in reverence, from the swell of your breasts, to the expanse of your thighs, not a single inch of skin is left unworshipped. He gives the rope a final tug to make sure all is secure.
He kisses the side of your temple, and you feel him take a hold of your queue, joining it with his own. The low guttural moan he makes sends a spark of pleasure down your spine, straight to your cunt. You feel yourself becoming slick once more, not that you need even more prepping in the first place.
He grabs the rest of the rope in his right hand, before wrapping it around your front, nestling his arm between your breasts. He lowers his left hand until it reaches the back of your knee. You know without having to be told, and lift your leg. He holds your leg up as far as you can stretch; you are thankful to be so pliable after all these years. The position has your now aching core wide open, glistening in the fire light as you leak down your own leg.
You let out a soft moan as you feel the hardness of his naked cock rub against your slit, coating himself in your prior release. He lines himself up with your entrance, his head just breaching the opening.
“I love you, [Y/N],” he whispers into your ear before he buries himself in you to the hilt with one hard thrust. The sudden stretch burns in a delightful way, you hope you never get used to his size. You can’t help the sudden yelp of moan.
“Fucking hell baby, you’re so wet. And it’s all for me. My perfect little mate, with her perfect little cunt.”
The filth of his words causes a whimper to fall from your lips, but your walls clentch the scorching member inside you. Miles lets out a shaking laugh laced with pleasure.
“Pretty little thing you are. Always. So. Fucking. Perfect!” Each word is punctured with a hard thrust in and out of you. His long cock caressing the soft spongy flesh of your walls, finding that special spot that drives you wild and beyond reason. Greedily your walls clamp around him, begging his release and your own.
“You like that, darling? You’re always such a needy bitch in heat. Like it when your mate talks to you like that, huh?” He pulls on the rope, tightening the restraints all around you. The skin under the rope becoming warmer and reddening. You let out a straggled cry, mouth agape, you let your head fall back onto his shoulder.
The pleasure mounting in you growing with every passing moment. Your hands find purchase on his braid, holding on tight. He groans into your ear, the sound somewhere between a moan and a growl. It reverberates through your bones, to know your mate is so in the throes of pleasure, stokes fire in your own belly; your arousal covering his own.
He grabs your other leg, and suddenly you are hoisted into the air. You yelp with surprise, but he holds you firm. His pace is relentless, still thrusting up into your welcoming heat. Such display of strength only spurs you on further. There comes a dull ache in your legs from the strain of being held up, but also the tightness of the rope cutting into your joints.
The pain and pleasure mix wonderfully, pulling you over the edge and into your waiting orgasm. You moan loudly, almost a scream, Miles’ name spills from your lips in high pitch mewls. He doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm to another, causing your to squirt all over his cock.
Tears flow freely from your eyes at the overstimulation, but by the Great Mother does it feel heavenly. Your ecstasy assaults him through the bond, finally sending him over the edge. His mouth bites down hard into your shoulder as he cums, shooting his seed up into your inviting warmth. Your walls clench him greedily, milking him till he is spent. There is a falter in his legs, you can almost feel the strain in his arms as he tries to keep you up as his pleasure wracks him to the core.
Finally though, he gently lowers you to the ground, falling onto his knees once your feet are firmly planted. You use him as leverage, lowering yourself before him. He rests his head to your shoulder, hands immediately finding your belly, resting them there.
Time passes slowly, filled with the smell of your sex and the sound of your joint laboured breaths. Slowly, Miles starts removing the rope from your person, throwing it somewhere out of sight once done. You collapse into his embrace once more, turning to your side as you lean against him. He cradles you in his arms, pressing delicate kisses to your hair.
You feel hot and sticky, but thoroughly fucked. You couldn’t be happier, tail wrapping around you both.
“You okay?” He asks, always, after any session in which he ties you up. His hands find your wrists, gently massaging the bruised skin.
“Always my love. Just a little worn out.” You close your eyes and lean into him more, never wanting this feeling to end. This peace and tranquillity.
---
Your mind drifts to the day, nearly 5 years ago, when you first landed on the island.
The Olo'eyktan and Tsahik came to greet you, as well as many members of the clan. They were surprised to see forest people; some never having seen any before. They gawked and stared unashamedly. They were more surprised though, by Spider’s presence. A Sky People child, painted with stripes, dressed in forest garb? What a spectacle!
The Tsahik had hissed when she caught sight of him, demanding that you take the Demon Child back from where you found it.
With great restraint you held your tongue, explaining instead that you cannot and would not go back. You wanted no part in the war with the Sky People, and neither did your mate. All you wanted was uturu. Some place far away from conflict. You explained that the Human boy, was in fact your mate's son, just without an Avatar body.
She was taken aback then, but grabbed your hand, noting the four fingers. She declared you too were of Demon blood, not true Na’vi. None of you were. Why should they let you stay? You looked to the Olo'eyktan then, pleading with your eyes. You gestured to Spider, saying that if he could adapt to live amongst Forest Na’vi, then you could all adapt, that you will adapt.
The Tsahik scoffed, walked around you three to inspect your tails. She stopped abruptly behind your mate, staring at his back. Her hand came to rest on the space between his shoulders. You saw the tenseness in his shoulders, wrapping his tail around his leg, hands clenched. He sends you a worried look, but you shrug, unsure of what she was doing.
You see her brows furrow. She removes her hand then, like she has been burnt, before returning to her mate’s side. She speaks low to him.
“That one, has been touched by Eywa.” The Olo'eyktan’s head shoots up as he stares at Miles, then looks back down to his mate for clarity.
“Touched?” He asks in shocked whisper. She clicks her tongue, annoyed at the events unfolding before her.
“Yes. Touched. Whether literal or spiritual, I cannot say for sure. But it is there. I feel it.” She squints at Miles, wholly distrusting of his person.
‘By the stars themselves, what could the Great Mother possibly have seen in this one?’ she thinks to herself.
“What of the boy? How will he live amongst us, if he cannot breathe our air?” The Tsahik gestures to Spider, who has been standing beside you awkwardly. You put a comforting hand around his shoulder, pressing him closer into your side.
“You need not worry. This Sky People-made mask will keep him safe.” You tap the mask gently. You’re not sure how much these people know of Human technology, but you don’t explain further. You send a silent thank you to Norm, Max and all the other scientists back home.
Just before your departure, you had decided Spider could not come with, intent to leave him behind, no matter how much it broke your heart. There would be no feasible way to replenish his oxygen packs supply. But Eywa smiled upon you. The humans, the engineers they were called, came forth with a new designed mask. It did not need oxygen packs like the old ones, instead filtered the air itself for safe breathing. It worked underwater too. It was sturdier too, strong as Na’vi bones they boasted.
Her eyes roam over you, then Spider, than up to your mate. She questions then, what skills you Forest folk could possibly bring to their shores. Your mate steps forward then, proudly stating he is a warrior, willing to fight anyone to prove his worth. The Olo'eyktan holds up his hand, stating that it wasn’t necessary, at least not yet.
The Tsahik’s eyes rake over you again, making you feel self-conscious. You see her gaze linger on your chest and your hips.
“You…Your patterns are of Forest folk, but your body is not.” It is more so a statement than a question, but demands an answer all the same.
“You are correct, Tsahik. My mother was true born Na’vi, of the Omatikaya clan. My father is…like my mate. Born of the Sky People.” She makes a disgruntled noise, but says nothing else.
After a moment of silence, she looks back up at her mate, and gives him the faintest of nods.
The Olo'eyktan announces then, that you three are welcome and are to be treated like their brothers and sisters. He warns them to be gentle with the Human, try not to gawk at him too much as there was still a village to look after. You thank him profusely, tears threating to fall at corner of your eyes. His smile is warm and welcoming, and the relief you feel is near palpable.
---
You and Miles decide to pack the food into a basket and bring it to the children. As the two of you are making your way along the beach to the path that would lead into the jungle, you are greeted by the sight of your two young sons running at you, Spider taking up the rear in a slow jog.
“Mama! Papa!” They yell in unison, arms outstretched as they crash into your legs.
“Good morning my little starlights! And to you too Spider, thank you so much for taking such good care of them,” You pick up Rawm as Miles does Taxun. Spider smiles up at the both of you, out of breath from the run.
“It’s no trouble [Y/N]. I already know what it’s like to have younger brothers.” He takes note of the basket Miles is holding, helping himself to the fruit inside. Your smile becomes a little sad at the memory of your family. You don’t have time to dwell on it though, as the kids notice Spider eating and immediately demand to be fed.
And so the 5 of you sit on the nearby rocks in the shade, enjoying the meats and fruits. It doesn’t last long, as the twins eat far too fast for your liking, before they start pulling Spider toward the ocean, wanting to swim in the cool water now that the sun was out. He of course obliges without fuss, and you giggle as you watch them splash about in the water.
The sun hangs high in the sky now, midday you presume. You enjoy the cool breeze kissing your skin, and the soft caress of your husband as he traces the glowing freckles on your back.
You are quiet, but there is gentleness in your eyes, a soft smile on your lips.
“Whatcha lookin’ at sweetheart?” Miles asks you, and you keep your eyes forward, smile widening.
“Our future.” Your voice is soft as the sand between your toes.
He hums in agreement, and kisses your check.
“Yeah…me too.”
---
You’re not sure how much time passes, perhaps not even an hour, when you here your name being called. You look to see the Olo'eyktan’s daughter coming to you hastily.
Your heart skips a beat at her urgency.
“[Y/N]! You must come quick! Follow me!”
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
“Did you not hear the horns?!” She asks as she speeds off, expecting you to follow. You look to your mate, both of you have a confused expression. Neither of you heard it, too engrossed in watching your family. The kids probably didn’t hear anything amongst their own yelling and playing.
Quaritch whistles to the kids, who all immediately cease their frivolity, and run back to you two. Miles wordlessly grabs both twins in his strong arms, and you hand Spider the now empty basket. You make your way back as fast as you can waddle, explaining to the kids along the way.
---
You see an unexpected amount of people gathered at the front beach, though you can’t quite make out what’s going on.
You hear the whispers and murmurs of the clan, strangers they say; visitors.
You and Miles share a concerned look as you make your way forward. A sound carries on the wind, a bellow of a creature; and you know that sound anywhere.
Ikran.
Your heart starts pounding in your chest, your mind running a mile a minute. You don’t even think as you start forcefully pushing your way through the crowed, flanked by Miles still holding the twins and Spider.
“What’s going on Papa?” Rawm asks, clutching onto his father tightly.
You don’t hear his response as you finally make your way out front, seeing the backs of your Olo'eyktan and Tsahik.
You vaguely note the 5 ikran poised on the sand, looking none too pleased.
And when you see the Na’vi visitors talking to your Olo'eyktan, tears well in your eyes, and you let out a straggled cry.
“Sanctuary for my—” The visiting man's voice cuts short when he hears your cry, immediately finding your gaze. His eyes widen at the sight of you, flicking to your swollen belly for a split second, before coming back to your face. He lets out a shaky laugh, a grin splitting his face.
The woman at his side looks at him confused, before following his line of sight. Your eyes meet, and she falls to her knees, covering her mouth as she cries, tears streaming down her face.
You approach them slowly, not caring for the stares of the clan, nor the poignant look Tsahik Ronal is sending you.
You stand before your parents.
“Hello mother. Hello father. Oel ngati kameie.”
Neytiri jumps to her feet, wrapping in her arms tightly. Her cries burn your ears but you don’t care. They are matched only by your own. You feel your fathers arms wrap around you two, and you swear by the Great Mother, that this was perhaps the first time you’ve ever heard him cry. Your four siblings rush at you too, scrambling to get you into an embrace of their own.
You hear the tell-tale sigh of your Tsahik, and the low chuckle of Olo'eyktan Tonowari.
“I guess you have a lot of catching up to do, no?” He turns to the clan and addresses them. “Treat Jake Sully and his family as our brothers and sisters, just as you did with those who came before.” He calls for his eldest son and daughter, instructing them to teach Jake and his family just as they had taught you.
Your family untangles from one another, though your parents still have their hands on your shoulders. You take each of their hands in your own.
“[Y/N], I—”
“Hush, mother. Before you say anything, you too father, there is someone, two actually, you should meet first…” You pull them towards Miles. You turn your head to your siblings, gesturing with your head for them to follow too. You feel them tense, and a falter in their step. You gently squeeze their hands, releasing a shaking breath when you feel them squeeze back.
“Oel ngati kameie, Jake and Neytiri.” Miles says with perfect annunciation. They don’t say anything, but gesture to him with their hands. They are far too in shock, eyes instead focused on the two boys in his arms.
“Mom, dad, siblings…I’d like you to meet my sons, Rawm and Taxun,” you gesture to your boys accordingly, letting go of your parents hands, nervously threading your own fingers together in front of you.
You hear your siblings greet them with little waves, introducing themselves as their aunts and uncles. The boys are shy, and barely greet them back with tiny voices. Kiri runs to Spider, pulling him into a wordless hug as she cries into his shoulder.
“Hey kiddos, it’s nice to meet you. I’m your grandpa, Jake,” You father smiles at them big and goofy, tail swaying with joy.
“Pa Jake?” Rawm asks, bringing tears to the edge of your fathers eyes. He lets out a shaky laugh and nods.
“Yeah, that’s right. I’m your mama’s papa. Just like this man, is your papa.” He pats Miles on the shoulder, and the two share a look. You can see so much unspoken words exchange between them, Miles lowering his ears submissively. But your father gives him a kind smile. You can see in your mates eyes, even as he returns the smile, there is a hint of guilt there.
Your son surprises you then, reaching for your father, who happily takes him into his arms, smile widening.
You look to your mother then; filled with trepidation at her reaction. All of your anxiety shatters when you see her smile your boys.
“Hello little ones. I am your grandmother Neytiri. Your mama’s mama…” She wipes away a stray tear, and happily takes Taxun when he reaches for her.
She gently rocks him, patting his back with practiced ease. Your heart swells at the sight of your parents holding their grandchildren.
Neytiri’s eyes lift from your son then, to meet your mate’s gaze head on. She stares at him, studying him, but he doesn’t break the eye contact. She closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath, exhaling through her mouth. She opens her eyes and fixes him with a determined look.
“Oel ngati kameie, Miles Quaritch.” She nods to him, hand gesturing towards him in the proper greeting. “Thank you…for taking care of my daughter.”
His eyes widen at her words, and she smiles up at him, though it is small, as she hugs your son to her a little more tightly.
“Oel ngati kameie, [Y/N], my daughter…I am so happy, to see you, alive and well.” She touches a hand to your belly briefly, before returning to pat your sons back. “You too Spider…I am, pleased, to see you are doing well.”
Spider gives her a shy smile and a nod. Your brothers flank him, poking his sides and remarking on his larger frame, toned by years of swimming.
“Oel ngati kameie, mother, father, siblings. Welcome to our family.”
Everyone comes together, embracing in one giant hug, with you and Miles at the centre.
“Wherever we go, our family is our Fortress.” You father says.
“Sullys stick together,” Neteyam adds.
“And now, Quaritches too.” Your mother says, and with that, the dam breaks.
You cry tears of joy, safely nestled in the embrace of your family.
You couldn’t be happier.
End
---
<previous chapter> | 7 |
Author's Note: And that's a wrap people! Originally this was gonna end with Quaritch's "yeah me too" on the beach. But then it occurred to me, people would probably want a reunion with the family, so here we are!
Thank you so much to everyone who's followed along with what was supposed to be a horny one-shot that then turned into a mini series XD I look forward to seeing ya'll in my future works, so stay tuned!
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The Lie of Providence - Chapter 6 - Venom to My Ears
word count: 3745
Pairing: Recom Miles Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: hurt, anger, no comfort, bullying, dysmorphia, lots of crying
Author's Note: And we're back! Sorry this took soooo long to come out! Haha, totally got distracted by WDITMF ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Anyway apologies for any grammatical errors as usual!
“blue text” is spoken Na'vi.
‘Italics’ are thoughts.
iortsyal = a pandorian butterfly
[previous chapter] | 6 | [next chapter]
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You remember it quite clearly.
You were 14 then, and it happened so unexpectedly. Tarsem has taken 3 other teenagers, boys them all, under his tutelage as future hunters and warriors.
From the beginning you could tell these 3 were a close nit group, perhaps friends since their younger years. Rokan (15) is the leader, whilst Ru’ak (14) and Teka (14), the twins, were his little followers.
They paid you no mind, as far as you can tell; just another trainee they only saw when they spent time with Tarsem.
A spar was called between you and Rokan, Tarsem wanting to assess both of your progress thus far.
Late in the afternoon, the group found a small clearing, you and Rokan front and centre, the twins somewhere behind Tarsem off to the side.
You readied yourself; low crouch, find your centre, just like father taught you. Rokan stands tall, starts walking to the side as if to circle you. You mimic his movements, making sure to keep him in front of your line of sight.
However this is what he had wanted, had predicted. When he felt the sun kiss his bare back, he rushed you without warning. You squinted as the sun assaulted your sensitive eyes. But that wasn’t what you were paying attention to, no.
You stared only ahead at the figure coming at you. Drenched in gold, you think you have never seen such ethereal beauty. The evening light explodes behind him as he approaches, casting his front in shadow. You feel the rapid pounding of your heart, the quickness of your breath.
He is on you before you can even blink. Tackled to the ground, he pins you and you flail wildly, trying to free yourself, but it is of little use.
“Enough. Separate.” Tarsem calls from the side lines. Rokan obeys without question, the twins hollering his praises. You sit up and watch his retreating back as he makes his way over to them. ‘Was he always that athletic?’ the thought catches you so completely off-guard you let out a quiet ‘eep’! Covering your mouth, you get up in a rush and move to your side. You don’t see the quick glance Rokan does behind himself to look at you.
A few more matches, and a few more pins to the ground, Tarsem calls it. 8 matches, 8 losses. Rokan is full to the brim with pride. He has beaten Tarsem’s star pupil, firstborn of the Olo'eyktan, and he couldn’t be happier.
Tarsem sends the 3 boys off. They eagerly scurry away, playfully pushing each other, arms wrapped around each other’s neck in brotherly fashion. You watch them, envious almost. Yes, you do have the friendship and comfort of your many siblings; but there some times when, you wish you too had friends closer to your age. Boy or girl, it didn’t matter to you.
“[Y/N].” Tarsem addresses you, pulling your attention from the boys.
“Yes???” You respond, flustered at being caught staring.
“You were distracted today.”
You’re not sure if he’s making a statement or asking you.
“Yes, Tarsem. I…apologise. It will not happen again.” He has his arms crossed and nods at you, waving you off for the evening.
You bid him farewell and begin the trek to your next lesson.
“He is a very handsome young man though.” Tarsem calls from behind you. You stop dead and turn to face him, face flushed red, mouth agape in horror. Tarsem only smiles widely trying his best to stifle a laugh. You hasten your retreat to a full-on sprint, all the while you can hear Tarsem’s laugh slowly fading behind you.
---
Ok.
So you think he’s cute.
Handsome even.
Big deal.
So what???
No really. So what?
You have no idea what to do with this information. It’s not as if you’re overflowing with spare time to pursue, whatever this is. A silly crush. Nothing more. But this was the first time you’ve ever experienced romantic feelings in any capacity.
As a result, you unfortunately start noticing him around the village more. You wonder if he often frequented the same areas as you. Did you perhaps never notice until now?
He never approaches you, nor do the twins. Always does he simply greet you with a smirk and quick gesture of the hand. By Eywa, that smile. That damned smile. You feel heat rush up your neck to your cheeks every accursed time. How embarrassing.
A few weeks pass, and something most unexpectedly happens.
He does in fact, approach you.
“[Y/N]!” He waves you down, jogging up to you, the other two not far behind.
“Ro-Rokan! Ru’ak and Teko too. What can I do for you three?”
“Are you free right now? We’re about to head out into the forest, and wanted to know if you wanna join us?”
“M-me?” You curse yourself for stammering in front of him.
“Of course! We’re all warriors in training together. Makes sense to me that we should get to know each other a little better, don’t you agree?”
Your heart feels as though it’s doing flips against your ribcage. You inwardly squeal with joy. As luck would have it, this was your day of rest, so you indeed had free time!
“Y-yes of course! I’d be happy to!” You fondly smile upward to the taller boy, brimming with excitement.
You had remained cordial with the other teens of the clan around your age, but you’ve never actually hung out with any of them. This was your chance to amend that, and actually make friends outside the family. That thought alone has iortsyal fluttering in your stomach.
---
The three of you stop at the edge of the village. Rokan teases you with a smirk, challenging you to keep up. Your heart skips, and you feel heat on your cheeks.
He doesn’t wait for you to respond and immediately rushes off into the forest. You don’t think twice before you’re immediately on his trail, the twins keep pace behind you.
You barely register the world around you, relying solely on your instincts to guide you forward. Your eyes are fixed to the azure back just a few branches ahead of you. You become hypnotised by the lean muscle, and swallow thickly as a sheen slowly spreads upon his broad back.
You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of these thoughts before they fall into depravity. You can’t afford to be distracted, not out here at least. The forest is dangerous if you are caught unawares. With renewed focus, you push yourself harder, urging yourself to go faster. You feel the fire of your muscles burning, the ache of your pounding heart, but you relish in the feeling; it is a reminder of your strength, of your training, of being alive.
Up ahead, the spaces between the last tree and the next is too large to clear with a jump, but their branches connect in a bend to the left. You see Rokan veer to the side, taking the safe part. He is still a little ways ahead of you.
You look at the drop, contemplating the odds of you making the jump. It is then you notice the thick vines dangling in the empty space. You smirk to yourself and move even faster than you thought yourself capable of.
You don’t hear the twins both yell out to you as you launch yourself forward, hand outstretched. Your eyes briefly meet Rokan’s as you look to your left. His widen in shock as he watches you fly through the air. Your hands meets vine, and you grab with all your might.
You use the momentum of your flight to propel yourself forward to another vine, repeating the motion once again, before you launch yourself at the flattened branches of the tree ahead. You lurch forwards, coming into a roll as you land. The momentum pushes you forward, and you are instantly back into a sprint.
One quick glance behind and you see Rokan’s shocked face as he just finishes the detour. You don’t even see the twins. You laugh loud and breathlessly, yelling out to them to keep up and to stop being so low. You refuse to wipe the smile off your face as you continue forward. You’re not sure when last you had this much fun. It felt different from when you play with your siblings. There was just something about being around people your own age. Your heart swells with an unknown feeling, and it only makes you smile wider.
From the vantage point in the trees, you can see a large body of water in the distance. It is framed by a cliff side with a waterfall. The darkness of its colour lend credence to its depths. If this was the direction Rokan was going, then it stands to reason that this plunge pool was surely the destination.
You run along the thin branch stretching over the water, and dive down, head first, without hesitation.
In the blink of an eye you’re surrounded by the biting cold of water. You make it half way to the bottom of the pool, before you change direction and start swimming to the top. You breach the surface, taking one big gulp as you make your way to the nearest edge. You pull yourself out, flopping onto your back with a heavy thud. Your eyes are unfocused as you lay there, staring up into the canopy. Your breathing is laborious, and every muscle aches something fierce.
It doesn’t stop the giggle that bubbles up inside you; bursting forth in a cacophony of laughter. You let out a triumphant howl, pumping your firsts into the air victoriously.
---
Rokan sees the gap approaching, and knows he can’t make that jump. He sees the side path, and takes it. He’s almost half way when he hears the twins yelling your name somewhere behind him. He looks to his right and is completely stunned by what he sees.
Your silvery form soars through the sky, arm outstretched. His eyes meet yours for the briefest of moments, before you look forward once again. There is a falter to his step as he watches you clear the gap by swinging on the vines. You’re so far ahead now. He sees you look back once he makes it back to the path. He barely makes out your laughter and the tease you throw to the wind for them to keep up.
He stops dead in his tracks.
The twins finally catch up, you’re naught but a white smudge in the distance against the dark greens of the forest.
“This is far enough.” He tells the twins, holding out his arm to stop them from advancing. They stand there silently, the only sound their laboured breaths. Rokan lets out an amused huff as he sees you disappear when you take the dive.
“Heh…Unbelievable.” He shakes his head. He stares at where you once were for but a moment longer, before turning back and making his way toward the village.
“Let’s go.” The twins nod and follow him without question.
---
Ten minutes pass; it instead feels something akin to an hour. Anxiety weaves it way into you, deep into the pit of your stomach. There was no sound of bodies hitting water. No laughter from rambunctious boys catching up to you.
You sit on your knees beside the water, soaked, hands clenched tight. Your body starts shaking involuntarily.
At first, you thought perhaps they were afraid to dive, and were searching for a safer way down. But as each minute passed by, the truth became clearer.
They had left you. For reasons you have yet to conjure, they had abandoned you here. You fight the quiver of your lip as tears sting your eyes. But as you are now, you are powerless. You fall to your sudden grief, letting out a straggled cry as tears flow free. You wrap your arms around yourself as you weep.
You are cut deep by unpleasant emotions. These are feelings you are unaccustomed to.
Why did they leave you?
Did you do something to offend them?
What were they thinking?
Did they even want to hang out with you in the first place?
Was this their plan all along?
Were they ever intending to be your friend?
Questions like this flood your mind, drowning you in a sudden wave of self-doubt. You let loose a scream until your throat burns.
---
Time passes, and your tears eventually dry. You look at your reflection in the water, and nearly recoil. Your face is red, eyes puffy, angry streaks of dried tears paint your cheeks. You stare intently at yourself then, taking in the golden threads of your braids, and the starlit white of your skin.
You wonder then, if things would have played out differently, had you been born normal looking.
You frown, clenching your teeth as you feel anger slowly start to burn within. You swat away the image angrily, wildly splashing the water about.
It was no secret to you, that you were born different. But it never bothered you. Your family treated you no different from your siblings, and by Eywa neither did any of the Sky People.
So why now? Why them?
…Were they the only ones?
You shake your head, pulling yourself from yet venturing down that train of thought. You take a moment to wash your face. The cool water helps ground you, calming you. You drink deep, sighing contently.
You pull yourself to your feet, and take stock of where exactly you are. You observe your surroundings, trying to find familiarity with the Great Mother’s design. But none of the surrounding area invokes any sort of recognition. You look up into the canopy, and you can vaguely make out the thin branch you dove from. It would seem, the only way back to that tree would be to scale the waterfall. Wonderful.
You sigh in defeat, but nonetheless make your way around the pool to some outcroppings you can scale.
The climb would not normally wind you, but your body still aches from the strain of your sprinting prior. Your mind still reels, broiled in anger from everything that has transpired.
With an angry grunt, you hoist yourself up to the top of the cliff.
You look up from your crouched position, and freeze.
All of your anger, all of your sadness, every turbulent emotion, is rend from your body.
You mind goes blank, mouth suddenly dry, mind blank.
You do not blink.
Drinking from the stream, nought but a few feet away, is a palulukan.
An adult palulukan.
The creatures ears are pointed toward you. It clearly heard you, but did not turn its head to regard you, instead choosing to finish its drink.
There is a lump in your throat, but you are too shaken to even swallow. Fear overwhelms you, and you are unable to move. To run. You know you should let the fear pass over and through you. But repeating mantras was not the same as putting it into practice.
You curse those boys, but most of all, you curse yourself. You should have paid attention. You should have known better. Had you been smarter, more aware, maybe you would have noticed you were running straight into palulukan territory. Your mind is too frazzled to even send silent prayers to the Great Mother.
You don’t even have any of your decent weaponry on you. Fuck.
The creature finishes its drink, and licks it lips before turning its head in your direction.
But when your eyes meet, something strange happens. You expect the creature to growl lowly, lower its stance, as if ready to pounce.
Instead, once your eyes meet, it freezes.
You barely have time to make a confused face, before the palulukan lets out the most terrifying roar you have ever heard.
But it is not the roar of an apex predator warning prey to run.
This was something of fear.
It snarls and bares its fangs, banging its front paws into ground as it roars at you again. But it never moves closer, staying exactly where it was. Still you are frightened by its very visage.
You flinch.
With swiftness you wish you possessed, the creature suddenly turns and sprints off deeper into the forest.
You sit stock still as you listen to its fading footfalls.
‘What was that?’
‘By the Great Mother, what the fuck was that?!’
You bring your hands up to your face, and realise you are shaking. Adrenaline still courses through your veins. You launch yourself up, and sprint in the opposite direction of where the beast ran.
You dare not turn around.
---
You make it back to village, but you are far from unscathed.
Small cuts mar your skin. In your haste to escape, you became carless; tripping and tumbling over yourself. Your lucky your hands and feet remain clear, but the same cannot be said for your arms and legs. The adrenaline stops you from feeling any pain.
You stop yourself once you make it into the village, bracing yourself on a nearby tree. You fall to your knees, huffing and puffing. You hand clenches your chest as you desperately try to calm your beating heart; it feels as though it will burst forth from your chest.
“Well, look who made it back! Took you long enough, freak.”
You feel yourself go rigid. The voice beside you, addressing you, belongs to none other than Rokan. You don’t move to look at him. Not that it matters. He instead moves to be in your line of sight. You force yourself to look up and at him. He’s smirking down at you, arms crossed over his chest. You vaguely register the twins standing behind him, crouching to be at your level. They’re quietly laughing as they point at you, whispering to each other.
You struggle with all your might to stand up straight, using the tree as leverage. But your legs are threatening to give out, and you painfully slump back against the tree with a pained grunt.
The boys laugh at you.
His words slice into you. But it is not the clean cut of a swift blade. This is serrated, cutting into you slowly with meaningful precision.
“You really are pathetic, you know that? I can’t believe Eywa cursed Toruk Makto. I’m honestly surprised you even made it back alive right now. How stupid were you to not even notice where we were running, hm?”
“Oh well, and here I thought I could be rid of you…”
“W-why…? I haven’t done…anything…to you…” Getting the words out is laborious as you desperately try to catch your breath.
“Pfft! Why? Is this skxáwng serious?” He playfully nudges one of the boys beside him.
“Let me clue you in on a little secret, freak. We don’t like you—I don’t like you! And did you think I wouldn’t notice? The way you look at me? Disgusting. As if I would ever be interested in a freak.”
You flinch at his words, and cast you gaze downward; too ashamed to meet his eyes.
“Did you really think because you were the daughter of Olo'eyktan, of Toruk Makto, that it made you special? Look at yourself! Your Sky People hair. That pale skin. You will never be true Na’vi. Face it, [Y/N]…Eywa cursed you. Honestly, I was doing the clan a favour by leaving you there.”
You don’t think you’ve ever heard your name said with such disgust, in your entire life. You don’t know what to do, how to react. The deep gnawing pit in your stomach grows with the pain in your heart. You can’t help the silent tears that fall.
There is no sympathy to be had. Rokan simply laughs at you.
“Aww, Rokan. You made it cry, that’s so mean~!” You dare to look up, and feel the cracks in your heart splinter. A girl approaches, nestling herself into Rokan’s side as she stops beside him. You recognise her. Vekya. You were acquaintances at best. What little interactions you two had were always cordial as far as you can recall. But the sneer on her face speaks volumes. Had she always looked at you like this, when you back was turned?
How many in the clan felt the same then?
You’re overcome with anxiety once more. You can’t be around them. Not under their stares. Not under their eyes.
And so you run.
You hear their laughter fade into the background as you sprint away, not entirely caring where you end up.
---
You hiccup as you cry at the recollection, your throat clenching painfully. You want to continue, but it would seem your body has other ideas.
Your mother stares at you, the hold on your hands almost painful.
She sees the tears streaming down your face.
She sees the pain in your eyes.
The scars of your heart.
The sorrow in your soul.
And she sees...
RED.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
[previous chapter] | 6 | [next chapter]
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Author's Note: So you may notice your age is lowered. I went back and decided I want reader to be a bit younger. Also I changed that you and Miles haven't given each other your names yet. Thank you to everyone for your patience!
Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! I also started a permanent taglist, so if you want to be on that instead, let me know :) Also if your name isn't underlined, it means I couldn't tag you for some reason :(
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What Do I Tell My Friends Family - Masterlist
Pairing: Human/Recom/Na'vi Miles Quaritch x Female! Na'vi! Sully! Reader Tags/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, rare pairing, possibly dark content, smut, adult themes, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, lust, older man x younger woman, under age reader (16), degradation, nsfw, dubious consent, dirty talk, orgasm, orgasm denial, foul language, choking, p in v - each chapter will have it's own tags
Author's Notes: Am I going crazy? I can't find the masterlist for this fic so I'm making a new one. Seems like it just *POOF* disappeared! Someone let me know if I'm just blind >_>
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
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Tags: @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww
What Do I Tell My Friends Family - Masterlist
Pairing: Human/Recom/Navi Miles Quaritch x Female! Na'vi! Sully! Reader Tags/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, rare pairing, possibly dark content, smut, adult themes, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, lust, older man x younger woman, under age reader (16), degradation, nsfw, dubious consent, dirty talk, orgasm, orgasm denial, foul language, choking, vaginal fucking - each chapter will have it's own tags
Author's Notes: Am I going crazy? I can't find the masterlist for this fic so I'm making a new one. Seems like it just *POOF* disappeared! Someone let me know if I'm just blind >_>
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7
--- Tags: @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww
What Do I Tell My Friends Family - Masterlist
Pairing: Human/Recom/Navi Miles Quaritch x Female! Na'vi! Sully! Reader Tags/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, rare pairing, possibly dark content, smut, adult themes, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, lust, older man x younger woman, under age reader (16), degradation, nsfw, dubious consent, dirty talk, orgasm, orgasm denial, foul language, choking, vaginal fucking - each chapter will have it's own tags
Author's Notes: Am I going crazy? I can't find the masterlist for this fic so I'm making a new one. Seems like it just *POOF* disappeared! Someone let me know if I'm just blind >_>
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7
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☆.｡.:*The All Fic Masterlist.｡.:*☆
Hello everyone! Figured I should make one of these since I plan to flood this place with all of my nonsense! Will update is I write more! So please feel free to ask me if you have any requests for x reader! I'll also right any pairings you like, except Quaritch, he belongs to reader >:)))
🔄 - ongoing
✅ - completed
🔞 - adult only content - mostly pertaining to smut - MINORS DON'T YOU DARE
🌸 - family friendly, hand holding, fluff, romance no smut, platonic etc.
PERMANENT TAG LIST: Here
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MILES QUARITCH.｡.:*☆
🔄🔞 The Lie of Providence - Recom/Na'vi Miles Quaritch x Sully! Female! Na'vi Reader
🔄🔞Revenant - Colonel Miles Quaritch x Female! Wife! Reader
✅ 🔞What Do I Tell My Friends Family? - Human/Recom Miles Quaritch x Sully! Female! Na'vi Reader
✅🌸Red Rivers Run Deep - Human Miles Quaritch x Human! Female! Reader
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JAKE SULLY.｡.:*☆
✅🔞Hold My Hand and Never Let Go - Jake Sully x Omatikaya! Female! Na'vi Reader
✅🔞Scorching - Jake Sully x Female! Na'vi Reader
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NETEYAM SULLY.｡.:*☆
✅🌸Resplendent- Neteyam Sully x Female! Metkayina! Na'vi Reader
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AO'NUNG.｡.:*☆
✅🌸 - Jealousy? You Wear it Well - Ao'nung x Omatikayan! Sully! Female! Na'vi Reader
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Jealousy? You Wear it Well
word count: 1529
Pairing: Ao'nung x Omatikayan! Sully! Female! Na'vi Reader Tags: fluff, romance, cute, silly, oneshot Author's note: A quick oneshot dedicated to @royallaufeyson! Saw their post asking for this pairing fluff and thought I'd give it a go. Hopefully it's too your liking :)
Ao’nung considers himself many great things; strong, skilled hunter, a remarkable swimmer. But jealous? No, never. Why would he be jealous? And of that stupid ikran? Perish the thought. What’s there to be jealous about really? Nothing, that’s what!
Yet here he finds you, his darling Omatikayan future mate, tending to your ikran, instead of meeting up with him like you were supposed to an hour ago.
You don’t even hear his approach, and that in itself stirs an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. You have your back to him, standing before your own ikran. You’re rubbing his neck and humming soothing words as he rests his head on your shoulder. Naturally, the accursed beast is the first to spot his approach.
Suddenly his head is off your shoulders and he hisses with a faux threat, his attention behind you.
“Hoan?” You look up at your ikran, confused by his sudden change in attitude. Noticing his gaze is fixated on something behind you, angry at something intruding on your alone time, you turn around to see what the fuss is about.
A wide grin splits your face, recognizing the would-be intruder as your beloved future mate.
“Ao’nung!” His name slips through your lips like siren song, turning your whole lithe form to him and jog to meet his approach halfway. No matter how many times he sees you, once again is he left awestruck by your visage. As you run to him, those untamed locks flowing freely behind you, your form is caught in the last rays of sunlight before eclipse; a golden luster leaving kisses upon your skin.
And he melts. Ready is he to prostrate himself before such beauty. He catches you in his strong arms with little effort, you are so light and lithe coming from the forest.
Your arms instinctually wrap around his neck and you kiss him without hesitation. A short quick peck and you pull away to look down into his eyes, pale blue meeting gold.
“Hi,” you say and he returns your smile as he places you on your feet once more. You don’t untangle your arms around his neck. His hands are on hips, holding you close.
“Hi yourself,” he says cheekily, placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Oel ngati kameie.”
“Oel ngati kameie,” you say back with a smile.
Hoan makes an annoyed huff behind you, clacking his jaw a few times. You turn to look at him, ears perked up.
“Hoan, what’s gotten into you recently?” Your attention is immediately pulled to your ikran, instantly removing your arms from Ao’nung’s neck as you make your way back to the creature in question. You don’t see the slight frown that forms on your beloved’s face as he watches you walk away. But your hand catches his, and without looking back, you pull him along with you. A roll of the eyes, ‘of course this thing needs you right this very moment’ he laments to himself.
“Sweet boy, what’s got you huffing and chuffing?” As you ask this you let go of Ao’nung’s, placing both hands on either side of Hoan’s face. “Are you still hungry?” you look to the side and see the fish portions remain untouched.
“Hmm…He must grow tired of the same meal. Poor thing must miss yerik and talioang meat.” You lament as you rub his neck soothingly. He makes a light trilling noise as you do. “Maybe you prefer some soft-shell meat, yes? I think I saw some in a pool nearby. Ao’nung, can you keep an eye on him? I’ll be right back!”
“Well I—” and before he can even protest, you’ve sprinted off, his arm outstretched to your retreating form. After a beat he drops his arm back to his side and sighs deeply. An awkward silence permeates the air. He can feel Hoan staring at the back of his head. Probably plotting his demise. He turns then, fixing a scowl at the creature, though mindful not to make direct eye contact.
“There’s probably nothing wrong with you, is there?” he asks, as if the beast would understand him perfectly. Hoan blinks, tilting his head from side to side as if confused, cawing at him.
“Oh don’t you play innocent with me. You kept her here on purpose didn’t you? Think you’re real smart hogging all her attention.”
Hoan doesn’t give away any indication he understood anything directed at him. Instead he busies himself cleaning the inner parts of his wing; utterly ignoring Ao’nung it seems.
The boy in question shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Turning around to once again face the direction you went.
“Skxáwng ikran…” he mutters to himself.
SMACK!
His hand flies to the back of his head, something having hit him. He turns around and looks down, finding a portion of sand and drool covered fish at his heals. He frowns and looks up Hoan, the offending creature has his head buried in his other wing.
Ao’nung eyes him up and down, taking a few steps back before turning around once more. Where the heck were you?
SMACK!
“Hey!” He turns around angrily and again he finds fish at his heels while Hoan is preening himself; the picture of innocence. “You better stop that or else!” A fool Ao’nung is then, to turn his back once more, because as soon as he does—
SMACK!
This time when he turns around, Hoan is instead looking right at him. The offending creature honks at him rhythmically, and to the annoyed Ao’nung, that almost sounds a damn laugh. Without a second thought, he picks up the nearest piece of fish and lobs it at Hoan’s head. He hits him square in the face, the fish leaving a sandy red kiss to his temple.
Were it possible, Ao’nung thinks the face Hoan’s giving him right now would be that of the utter most offence anyone has ever taken in the history of the forever. He picks up another piece and throws it Ao’nung, hitting him in the chest and leaving the same gross smelly mark.
“So you have chosen war.” Ao’nung states, a war cry leaves his lips and he grabs the pieces near him into his arms, throwing them at Hoan.
The ikran responses immediately, a loud hiss and raw at Ao’nung, this time he grabs as many pieces in his mouth as he can, throwing them haphazardly at his opponent, some missing him completely.
The two of them go at it for a while, the pieces becoming nearly unrecognizable as time passes. All the while, Ao’nung laughs, what a silly thing he finds himself doing, having a, fish war, with your ikran. The beast itself making all manner of caws, bellows, yips, snarls and chirps.
So engrossed are the two of them that they naturally do not here your approach until it is too late.
“By the Great Mother, what is going on here???”
Immediately they both stop, dead still are they, like two naughty children being caught red handed. They turn to you then, you standing off to the side, a small basket balanced on your hips, filled with various molluscs.
Ao’nung drops the pieces he’s holding, straightening up and clearing his throat.
“Well you see, [Y/N], we were just—” another piece hits him in the side of the head. He turns and frowns at Hoan, who has his head facing the other way, turned to the sky as if the most interesting thing he’s ever seen is there right now.
“Pffft….Pffthahahahaha!” A melodious laugh bursts forth from you, and Ao’nung turns to you alarmed; a light blue dust paints itself up his neck and across his cheeks. “The two of you are ridiculous! Look at you! Covered in sand and fish blood.” You shake your head, smile never wavering. You set the basket beside Hoan, knowing you wouldn’t have to shuck the creatures yourself. It will be good for him to use his wing claws to pry them open.
“Silly boy, Hoan!” You tease and make tsaheylu. “Make sure you wash yourself thoroughly before you return to the others. Else Bob will never let you forget,” you say out loud for Ao’nung’s benefit before disconnecting and approaching said boy.
He huffs at you and turns away.
There is a cheeky smile on your face as you look up at him, arms behind your back.
“So…”
“So…?”
“Having fun without me?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about honestly.”
You shake your head at his antics and grab his hand.
“Come, let’s get you cleaned up in the heated pools,” you say and walk off, pulling him behind you by your joint hands.
You turn to look at him behind you, not slowing your pace as you do.
“And Ao’nung?”
“Yes?”
“Jealousy? You wear it well yawne,” you tease him, letting the word roll of your tongue, dripping in liquid gold. You can’t help but giggle when you see the shocked look on his face, the darkening of his skin renewed tenfold. He turns his face elsewhere.
“Sh—shut up…”
You laugh once again facing forward and squeeze his hand.
He smiles contently, and gently squeezes back.
----
Oel ngati kameie - I see you
yerik - the hexapede
talioang - the sturmbeest
skxáwng - stupid/moron/idiot
yawne - my love
ITS FINALLY HERE YALL OMFG, IM SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP RN, I JS KNOW THIS IS GON BE SO FRIGGIN GOOD OFCOURSE, ITS OUR ISSY WERE TALKIN ABT AAAAAHHHH ILYSM ISSY💋💋😩😩
Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode V
Something is Brewing
Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info
🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞
Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!
Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20)
Warnings: explicit pregnancy smut, pregnancy fluff, pregnancy angst [for the plot], pregnancy [this chapter is entirely about pregnancy if you haven't caught my drift, just giving you guys a proper warning], age gap, mood swings, cravings, nausea, vomiting, reader is very clumsy, intimate/invasive medical treatment, rut cycle, sexual tension, pregnant sex, p in v, titty fucking, cum eating (m and f), oral sex (m and f), masturbation, exhibitionism (kinda, not really), lactation kink
Word Count: 17.5k (this takes the cake, i apologize)
Requested: Yes || No
Author’s Note: Hey guys! Thank you all for being so patient with me as usual. I had planned to post this chapter earlier, but with the help of @zestys-stuff, we made a last minute change to the chapter. This will definitely cause some changes in the next chapter, so I’m going to work on that right away. I won’t lie, I’m really nervous to publish this one. It's been a while and I’ve ventured into some new territory where I’ve introduced a couple of new themes and -drumroll- a new character. There are parts of this chapter that can possibly cause discomfort (technically, all of this could), so I urge you guys to proceed with caution and click off if you do feel uncomfortable in any way. Aside from that, it’s good to be back (again, lol) and I hope you enjoy!
Synopsis: A timeline of your pregnancy with Ralak’s child, shown through a series of flashbacks of your most prominent milestones—some of which foreshadow something bigger to come…
<- Previous -> Next
Pregnancy is tough.
A beautiful blessing, but tough nonetheless. With its own set of hardships, uniquely tailored to your own being. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. A sore back, chest, ankles…the list is seemingly endless. The shift in moods, the fatigue. Adjusting to an entire new being growing inside you—one that sucks the nutrients straight from your bones and blood—has your body overcompensating.
At first it was a dream.
No life-changing symptoms. It was smooth sailing for the first few weeks. Life went on as usual. If anything, others were more reactive to your pregnancy than you were. Your skimwing became aggressive towards Ralak, snapping at him and whipping her tail, treating him as a threat rather than a companion. He was more than understanding, as it’s common for the protective instinct to kick in when the tsurak senses their rider is with child.
More importantly, it was an urge that Ralak shared with the beast.
—
You watch as your tendrils intertwine with your skimwing, and how they come together with a rough tug. You let out a rugged breath and the beast beneath you starts to writhe. Ralak instinctively grasps at the harness to steady you and—
Slash.
Your trsuak whips her spiked tail at your mate, who blocks it with his strake.
“Shit.” You gasp, tugging at the leather strap and patting her neck to subdue her. “I thought I was in control. Are you alright?”
Ralak nods, his hair now soaked and plastered to his chest. He simply chuckles, respectfully and cautiously approaching the beast with an open hand. Despite this, your tsurak continues to thrash, repeatedly snapping her snout open and shut. Ralak clicks melodically a few times, and her pupils blow and constrict as she calms down. He strokes her snout with one hand, and lays his other on your thigh, gripping it lightly.
“She senses that you are with child.”
“She does?”
“Yes. That is why she protects you. I understand the feeling.” His accent is thick on his tongue.
——
Then the nausea came. It was… unbearable. Insufferable. It was almost frightful, actually. Not being able to stomach anything really brought down a sense of dread upon your shoulders. Most days, you found yourself worried about the budding life inside you more than yourself.
Was he getting enough? Would he develop properly if you went another day without eating?
Ralak was more worried about you, of course. Going to great lengths to find something you could stomach. Spoon feeding you as you laid down all day from the gut churning nausea. Washing the sick out of your hair when you missed the bucket at your bedside. Detangling and braiding it for you to keep it clean and out of your face. Releasing his pheromones—your only relief—just to put you to sleep at night.
—
t.w. nausea, vomiting.
In the crisp night, a wave of nausea washes over you, waking you from your sleep. Typically, this is the only time you have a break from the nausea—your slumber. That, and the first ten minutes after throwing up.
You quickly hurl over, grabbing and heaving into your bedside bucket, something that's rightfully earned its spot at your side. Ralak jolts awake, sitting up behind you to gather your hair into his fist, rubbing your back as you retch.
“Alrigght.” He hums lengthily. “Get it up.”
Finally, you stop. You gasp and pant for air, sitting up only to collapse back into him. “I h-hate this–haah.”
“I do, too.” He grits, reaching over you for the rag at your bedside, and wiping your mouth.
He hates seeing you so sick. He’s tried it all, and though he’s found a few foods that you can stomach, nothing seems stops the nausea. Well, that’s not entirely true.
Ralak relaxes his body, focusing on opening his scent glands to release his his pheromones. They slowly become stronger, calming you down and dulling the waves of nausea. He pulls you close to his warm body, reaching behind him for his kuru.
“Tsaheylu.” He whispers yearningly, making the bond slowly. He sets a steady breathing pattern, slipping his hand over your tiny bump to caress it. The sickening feeling eases up enough for you to drift back to sleep, Ralak along with you.
——
Thankfully, Eywa lifted you of your säspxin [sickness] when you were about to come upon your third month of pregnancy. Cravings increased ten-fold almost instantly. On the occasion where you couldn’t keep it down—when the desperation was too much—you’d volunteer Ralak to eat it for you so that you could satisfy the craving vicariously through him.
—
“Eywa, that’s so good. One more bite.”
“Tanhí. Enough now.” He grumbles, feeling overly stuffed and almost queasy.
You glance down at the purple hue of your connected kurus.
“Please...” Your eyes burn as they threaten to well with tears, and your bottom lip quivers, “…last one, promise.”
Ralak sighs, shoveling in another bite of boiled squid, chewing it slowly so you can savor the taste. You keep your eyes closed as he eats, tongue swirling in your mouth to swish your pooling saliva in your cheeks. And when he swallows, you swallow too, gulping down your spit.
“Thank you.” You say shyly as you open your eyes, feeling bad for making him overeat now that you can really feel his fullness.
It is my pleasure. Never feel bad. His accented voice tickles your brain. A smile spreads across your face, just as one does on his.
——
And when you could keep it down, they were delightful when satiated. Keyword being satiated. It posed an issue when they were what Ralak called, ‘forest food’, or on a more rare occasion—‘sky people food’. Those were the insatiable ones. The ones he couldn’t just whip up for you. The times he'd come to you with his ears laid flat to his skull, admitting his defeat. Those were the moments where you felt something stronger than just disappointment.
It left you gutted.
—
You can’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. They’re hot and leave a sticky film on your skin, clumping your eyelashes together. It’s stupid. They’re stupid. Stupid tears, from a stupid cause. All because you want your grandmother’s stupid soup. Another thing the blessing of pregnancy has bestowed on you—big, intense feelings.
As you soak in your bath, Ralak cooks dinner and you just know that whatever is in the pot is something that will make your stomach churn. You bury your face in the palms of your hands, trying to keep your snotty sobs to a minimum. It’s ridiculous, sobbing over something like this. It’s shameful, even. How can you be so ungrateful when this man goes to such lengths to care for you?
“Tanhì!” You hear his rough voice echo from the pod.
You quickly wipe your face clean, and scramble for your loincloth and top, slipping them back onto your body. Finally, you fix your hair and force a smile to your face. As you get up to the marui, you’re met with the sight of Ralak stirring the soup pot over the firepit. Then the smell hits you. Typically the first thing to set off your nausea to begin with. It smells like—
Grandmother’s soup.
You stare at your mate wide eyed, taking a deep breath to savour it in your lungs. Outside of Ralak’s scent, nothing has smelled this good in months. And you swear you can already taste it on your tongue, the savoury flavour with the sweet aftertaste.
“I asked your mother. Hope that is okay.” Ralak speaks casually as he serves you a bowl.
As you let out a harsh breath, your eyes burn as the tears come back with a vengeance. You sniffle once, twice—thrice, whimpering quietly as they roll down your cheeks. Ralak looks up at you, concern and honestly a smidge of confusion fixed to his face. Putting the bowl down, he stands and comes over to you, enveloping you in his arms.
“I do not like to see you cry.” He hums, kissing the crown of your head. “Is it the smell? I will make you something different.”
“N-No, no. It’s… it smells great. I’m sorry. I—I” You sputter, burying your face into his chest.
“Then what is it, tìyawn [love]? What do you need?” Ralak cups your face and gently tilts your head upwards so he can look you in the eyes. “Tell me and it is yours.”
“Thank you.” You croak, feeling your bottom lip curl over and kiss your chin. Now his facial expression is just pure confusion. He tuts in a comforting manner, pulling you back in close to his chest as he waits for you to settle, rocking side to side.
“Alright, my little one. Shh–shh.”
——
Soon after, that soup pot made quite an appearance. It became your favourite dish, your favourite craving. Ralak made it just like grandmother, for the most part. There were a few omaticayan herbs missing, but outside of that it tasted like…home. At that point, you felt like you had this pregnancy thing down pat and could return to a semi-normal life.
Everything was relatively the same, except a few obvious things—your growing bump and lack of heats. That was also a blessing, not having to go through a torturous heat every month. Though, you couldn’t say that for Ralak.
As you neared the end of your third month of pregnancy, his pheromones grew stronger, wafting by you at random times of the day. At first you thought he was just doing it for you. Or, perhaps it was your heightened sense of smell.
But the day came when his scent was so potent, it was as if it had stained your lips. There wasn’t a moment where you couldn’t smell the scent of your mate under your nose. That was the night you realised it was out of his control. That it was his rut coming. That was the night you confronted him at the bonfire.
The night he looked at you like you were something to eat.
—
Right…there.
You catch the flicker of his eyes just before he lowers his head, shifting to that deep shade of blue. He keeps stealing a glance or two. Maybe even three, or more. It’s hard to keep count when he’s looking at you like this.
is piercing eyes, sultry and alluring, tempting you to crawl through these roaring flames just to get to him quicker. His demeanour. His stance and posture. His domineering leer. Whatever he—or his body—is doing, is working.
He sits on the boulder, elbow perched on one thick thigh and a hand propped on the other. His hair covers his chestpiece, curled ends barely brushing against his defined ribcage. His bioluminescent freckles dance under the moonlight, his turquoise skin almost golden from the cast of the fire. It’s all so intimidating. He’s exuding dominance, practically looming over you despite him being seated. But there’s something about his aura, something darker.
“I can feel it, you know.” You speak casually, uncrossing your legs.
Ralak’s eyes snap up, boring into yours. He cocks a brow, keeping his eyes locked on you as you stand and walk towards him.
“Your rut. It’s close, isn’t it?”
This would be your first, real rut with him. Without the influence of your own heat. Ralak huffs a sigh, his eyes falling to the small bump that’s in his direct line of sight. Ralak watches as it seemingly grows bigger the closer you get.
“You are showing.” His hands gently rest on your lower abdomen. Holding his shoulders, you slowly straddle him.
“Answer me.” You whisper as you cup his face, tilting it upwards to make him look at you. “I want to be with you… and before you say it—” Ralak grits his teeth as he turns his head away, out of your hands.
“No.”
“Ralak. I am your mate.” You retaliate through tight lips. You knew this would pose an issue.
“Y/n.” He growls, turning his head to look you in the eyes. “You know my rut. Must I remind you that you are with child? It is final.”
“I do know, and that’s why I won’t let you go through that alone, ever again.” Though your voice is stern, he can hear the tenderness in it. That this comes from a place of concern and love.
“I will not be in control.” Ralak admits as he shakes his head firmly, flicking his gaze back down to your belly.
“Look…I made a plan.” You basically confess that you’ve been conjuring up ideas on how to endure this together all day. Although his eyes and hands remain fixed on your tummy, Ralaks ears perk up. He’s listening.
“How do you feel about…being tied up?”
Now you’ve got his attention, eyes snapping up to meet yours. The idea of being tied up isn’t entirely foreign to him. It’s something that his people use as a punishment for those who do wrong. He’s not opposed to it. Having a rut so intense is probably something to be punished for, anyways.
“Hands behind your back…bound to the marui stilt. I will be the one in control. I will take care of you.”
You take his hands from your stomach and tuck them behind his back, your face now millimeters from his. Ralak fights the urge to kiss you. To free his hands from his back to grab your hips and shove your further down onto his growing bulge.
“...feed you…water you…bathe you.” Your voice falters as you swallow your spit. “...fuck you.”
“...that so?” He whispers against your lips, heart thudding wildly behind his ribcage.
You look in his eyes, and see that they tremble with constraint. He can’t hide it, the look on his face gives it away. He’s really struggling to think straight. To keep his answer as a firm no. And it doesn’t help that he’s on the cusp of his rut. He yearns to accept. Every fibre of his being wants this–wants you. You see it in his eyes, as they flicker like the flame behind you.
He just needs a little push.
“We’ll take it slow…gently.” You roll your hips into him and feel his cock straining against his tewng. You lean in close, lips brushing against his as you speak into his mouth. “And, if anything happens… we’ll stop. No knotting.”
His ears twitch. He’s considering it. Really, actually considering this. But how could he? How could he expect this of you in your state? He squeezes his eyes shut, frustrated and conflicted. And aroused. So fucking aroused that when he feels your lips drag against his cheek, your tongue tasting the lobe of his ear…your breathy whisper, “Pänutìng [Promise].”, he lets out a heated, shaky breath of defeat. Of surrender.
That seals the deal.
—
Not now. Not yet. Ralak thinks to himself, fighting his urges.
The urge to mate—to pin you down and drive himself inside you. He must remain in control. For you. For your unborn. He sits on the floor, slumped against the stilt of the marui, bowed shoulders and a heavy, hung head. His skin, flushed, and eyes swollen—glowing a vibrant mauve. His hair haphazardly sticks to his sweltering skin as his hands lethargically twiddle with the braided twine behind his back.
Groggy, you strain to open your eyes and quickly scan your surroundings. Ralaks pheromones cloud the room, engulfing you with their overpowering scent. As you sit up, the bed creaks and Ralak lifts his head, allowing it to flump limply back into the stilt. Extra lidded eyes and tensed brows, he breathes through his mouth. He wills himself to speak, but he’s heavy and sluggish as if he were three bottles deep.
“Ralak.” Your voice is wary and full of concern. Your eyes continue to trail down his body, landing on the undeniable, taut bulge in his loincloth. His cock strains against the fabric, precum completely soaking it through. “How long have you been like this?”
“Few hours.” He croaks out a dry throat.
“And you didn’t wake me?” You hastily make your way behind him, slipping to your knees to take the twine from him.
Fuck. There it is. Your scent...driving him over the edge. Wafting past his nose and making him woozy in the head.
“Tie me.” He demands. For a moment, you’re frozen in place by his tone, unable to move your hands and fingers. “Quickly.”
The edginess in his voice startles you, causing you to fumble with the twine. You take a breath and begin tying the knot as he taught you, weaving the twine with itself, tugging at the ends to close it.
“Tighter.” He snaps at you, making your ears lay flat. You pull the ends even tauter, witnessing the twine pinch the thin skin on his wrists.
“Shit—sorry. Didthat hurt?” You go to loosen the knot, but he pulls at the restraints, making it even tighter.
“Leave it.” He grumbles, tugging yet again, ensuring it’s unyielding.
Because the closer you get, the harder he finds it to resist. He needs to know that he can’t get out—that he can’t hurt you—before he loses it completely. And with that delicious scent seeping from your neck, he feels himself slipping under.
“Are you sure? I can tie you after you drink some water and have a—”
“No...haah—now.” He growls, dropping his head causing the rest of his hair to flow forward and cover his face. “…need you now.”
Blood rushes to your cheeks, heating them up and flushing them over. You can even feel your heart pumping it harder–faster. It’s hot in here, but even hotter now that you feel yourself heating up too. It’s his rut, influencing you like some sort of drug. You can barely control your breathing, much less think straight. But you told him that you’d be the one in control, the one to care for him.
“Mawey, ma’ muntxatan [Calm, my husband].” You whisper close to his ear, giving the knot a final tug. “What kind of mate would I be if I did not care for you first? Hm?”
You shuffle to your feet, and walk away, newly widened hips swaying side to side with temptation. He’s taking in the show through the cracks of space between his clumped together strands of hair, unable to look away no matter how hard he tries. Knowing this, you bend over, lifting your tail to expose your clothed mound to him. You swear you can hear a hiss seep from his lips, and that brings a smile to yours.
Teasing him is one of your favourite things to do.
You scoop up some water into the cup, and bring it over to him. Using two fingers to his chin, you tilt his head back, revealing the famine in his inebriated eyes. They’re glossy with need and desperation, begging you to take his ache away.
“Alright, alright.” You coo softly, sinking back to your knees. “I’m going to make it go away. Now, drink for me.” You bring the cup to his lips, tilting it carefully as he gulps it down thirstily. A few drops dribble down his chin and onto his already glistening chest, rolling down his unflexed stomach.
Tossing the empty cup to the side, you bend forward and lick the beads of water up his stomach, to his throat, to his lips. His arms jerk reflexively, wanting to cup your face as your lips lock with his.
Throwing a leg over his lap, you straddle him, pressing against the bulge in his sticky tewng. You cup his face instead, deepening the kiss to have a taste of the potent desperation on his tongue.
When you pull away, your noses brush against one another and you feel woozy in the head. His rut is beginning to affect you now. Which isn’t all a bad thing if you want to be able to keep up with him for the next couple days.
Your hand smoothes over his jawbone to the nape of his neck, where you gently grip the base of his kuru. His ears immediately lay flat to his head, reddening at just the tips. Running your hand along its length, you bring the end of his kuru in front of him.
“Going to make the bond.” You warn him breathily, bringing forth your queue as well.
At this point, Ralak is huffing for air and sweating profusely. It looks as if he’s nearing his peak already. This only reaffirms that you’re making the right decision by making tsaheylu—you need the direct influence of his tìsom [heat].
When the tendrils intertwine, you come together with a sharp tug and gasp. Instantaneously, you sink into a hazy state, heating up from within. Your breath syncs with his, and suddenly you’re panting too.
“Ralak.” You moan softly, grinding into him for a bit of friction.
You can’t stop your hips from snapping, and your loincloth is almost completely soaked. He throws his head back into the wooden stilt, looking at you through lidded eyes as he lets loose subtle groans. He looks more than hungry. He looks starved.
With trembling hands, you search for the knot of his loincloth at the base of his tail. After a bit of scuffling, you untether it and shimmy his tewng down his hips and off of him. Up springs his aching cock, veiny and swollen. It’s so obviously neglected, glossy and sticky with his slick, so uncomfortably hard that it’s already pulsing as it stands firmly pressed against your clothed cunt.
“Fuck. It’s… even bigger.” You’re taken aback, unsure of how exactly you managed to take this inside you last time he was in rut. Then you notice the red tinge of colour on his cockhead, especially where his ridges stand erect. “D-Does that hurt, karyu?” Bump in the way, you shift your hips back to reveal what exactly you’re talking about. “Need your numeyu to take away the pain?”
The giant remains silent, but his cock jumps in response, oozing out another large bead of precum. Using your pointer finger, you trace the length of his cock, swollen balls to his pointed tip, collecting that fresh bead of slick on the pad of your digit. He watches intently as you pop your finger into your mouth and suckle, swallowing his semi-sweet essence. His brows knit tightly together.
You know this is nothing short of torture to him. And though you have every intention to take the ache away… when would you get another opportunity like this? Where this giant is tied down and unable to resist the pleasure you bring him. Where you’re completely… in control. Fuck, you’ve never felt like this before. It's exhilarating. It’s a feeling of power. Of dominance.
A smirk pulls at your lips.
You begin to pull yourself to your knees, brushing your swollen breasts against his lips. His tongue darts out, eager for a taste. Looking down, you cup one breast with your hand, and guide your stiff nipple into his mouth. His lips pucker over it, closing once they make contact for a vacuum seal.
Your breath hitches when you feel his tongue tickle the sensitive tip of your nipple. His teeth graze against them as he tries to do this handsfree, and you let out a low hiss. Soon his movements grow erratic, being bound to the marui stilt is starting to frustrate him.
“Ah-ah. What do you need, karyu? Just tell me.” Your voice is feigned with innocence. He breathes heavy against your chest, keeping quiet as his focus is purely on getting his fill. “You won’t get anything from them.” You tsk, tugging away little by little, until eventually you pop off his mouth.
You continue to rise to your feet, dragging his lips along your swelling tummy, until he’s eye level to the band of your tewng. You can feel his eyes pierce into you, his stare is anything but discreet. It’s intimidating. Your hand flies to the back of your loincloth, fiddling with the knot to untie it.
“Is it this?”
The cloth drops to your ankles, exposing your flushed cunt to him. It’s pink and hot to the touch, undeniably aroused. Your scent grows stronger with each passing second, filling his lungs. It’s driving him insane—being able to see and smell, but not touch. His rut is only making him more irritable. He just needs to fuck into something and spill himself inside.
His eyes glisten over an even brighter shade of purple, locking onto their meal. He wets his bottom lip with a quick swipe of his tongue as you take a step closer. You cup his jawbone, tilting it upwards to look down at him. The sight is… intoxicating. His lidded eyes, blown pupils that are threatening to roll to the back of his head. Tensed brow bones and damped, slightly parted lips—not a drop of composure left in his features.
That new feeling rushes through you again, making you take two more steps forward. Your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his nose, officially branding it with your scent. He leans into you, closing his eyes and straining his neck to indulge himself.
Your thumb smoothes over his jaw before your hand slips to the back of his head. You fist his hair and yank his head back, sending his eyes flying open. With your free hand, you spread your pussy lips, exposing your swollen clit. It’s sticky and in need of attention, throbbing occasionally as you tug your hood back.
“Now, suck.” You demand breathily, slowly guiding him by the head to bring his lips to your clit.
You clench around nothing when you feel his heated, slippery lips pucker over the stiffened nub, sucking gently. Sharp eyes bore into yours before they roll back, leaving nothing but the whites exposed. Lids finally fluttering closed, he sucks a little harder, tips of his canines accidentally nipping your supple skin.
“Ss—fuck.” You hiss, hips snapping back with force, popping off his mouth with a sharp sting. Frantic fingers rub away the tingling sensation as you grit your teeth. You shuffle your feet to ground yourself as you tighten your grip on his hair and hold his head still.
“I know you’re in rut, but be good to your muntxate [wife].” You warn through your teeth before shoving his face back into your cunt.
This time he feasts with greed, groaning like a starved man. Eating, like a starved man. He’s slurping and sucking, lapping up your slick as it coats his tongue and lips, enjoying every second of your reign.
“Oh—oh shit. Fuck. Right there—” You moan breathlessly, free hand flying to his head to fist his hair, using it as leverage to keep him just where he is.
Before you know it your hips are moving on their own, humping at his face as you hold him tightly with both hands. With each thrust you shove him further back into the stilt, until the back of your hand is repeatedly hitting its surface.
Until you’re hunched over him, looking him deep in the eyes as you grind into whatever part of him your clit is rubbing against. He expertly holds his breath as he allows you full control to fuck his face as if you were the one in heat.
Because with each roll of your hips he feels it too.
He feels the jolt of pleasure that shoots through you when his tongue hits your clit in that special spot. When the tips of his canines graze your swollen folds. The feeling is all consuming and he’s whining into your cunt from the over—and under—stimulation. His cock shifts to a shade of purple, jumping each time you thrust into his mouth.
‘Sorry, Ralak. ‘m sorry.’ You think to him through tsaheylu, feeling the burn in your own lungs now.
“Haa—ah, fuck. Thrust. Fuck. Thrust. F-Fuck! I’m gonna cum—in your—ngh!” Your voice quavers as you come suddenly undone in his mouth, holding him firm and still as you rock your body into him.
His eyes slam shut and his brows knit tightly together as he grunts repeatedly into your cunt. He tugs harshly at his restraints and his heels dig into the woven floor. Yet still, you hold onto him even tighter until your pussy stops fluttering.
With a loud, shaky gasp, you yank him away, letting go of his hair to grab the marui stilt to stop your trembling legs from giving out beneath you. Ralak wheezes loudly, shoulders heaving harshly as he frantically pants for air. His face is bright pink, flushed and glazed in a layer of sweat. He opens his eyes but they’re so heavy that you can barely see the colour in them.
“Rutxe [please].” Ralak begs through a desperate groan, flicking his stare downwards. And when you look, you’re met with the sight of his still-throbbing cock, covered in his sticky, thick cum. Shiney beads still ooze out and dribble down his length and onto his swollen, firm balls.
His first word was a plea of help.
Your heart aches in your chest. How could you let yourself go so far with your little bit of power? To be so selfish. And here he was, in so much discomfort and yet you put your needs first. Leaving him so neglected to the point his body makes the release for him. Is this how he felt after he unleashed six pent up years on you in a couple days?
Pent up years of suffering.
“Shh. You’re okay, my love. You’re okay.” You whisper as you slowly squat down. “I got you. I’m going to make it…” you hold eye contact with him as you lower yourself onto his cock, aligning his tip with your sopping entrance, “…all better now.”
You wince when his cock slowly penetrates you, mewling a little higher with every inch you manage to take. The stretch is almost unbearable. This is the first rut you’ve spent with him without being in heat.
No foggy haze to dull the ache.
No emptiness to be filled.
And it doesn’t help that your womb is already so full.
Your mewl quickly turns into a whimper when your bodies become flush to one another. Ralaks head slumps back into the marui stilt and he heaves a loud, lengthy moan of relief from being buried deep inside your warm cunt. You feel so good around him, making his cock heat up and twitch inside of you.
Snaking your arms around his neck, you hold onto him as you frantically try to adjust to his size. It’s dawning on you exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into, and that you’ve seriously underestimated his rut. A sense of uncertainty begins to tighten your stomach but it quickly dissipates when you hear Ralak’s second plea.
“Rutxe, ma’ tanhì..” Ralak mutters with a pained, gravelly voice.
Without another word, you move your hips up and down, dragging his length along your gummy, slick walls. Your movements are sloppy and uncoordinated, you’re not used to doing most of the work much less all of it. With his hands tied behind his back, you can already feel the burn in your thighs and the throb in the tips of your toes.
Regardless, you keep moving your hips.
Bouncing up and down on his cock, pressing your forehead into his in a poor attempt to steady your position. That little sting slowly morphs into something of pleasure the more your hips meet his with a slap. And soon all you can hear is smack, after smack, after smack. The noises that split his lips tell you all you need to know. He’s feeling good and that’s all that matters.
But exhaustion hits you quickly—unexpectedly. His cock is buried to the hilt inside you, and the more tired your legs get, the deeper it drills inside you, pressing harshly into your cervix. Your legs are trembling uncontrollably and you can barely catch your breath, leaving you no choice but to lazily rock back and forth on his cock.
Ralak lets out a grunt and bucks his hips.
“Haah!” You yelp.
Ralaks ears lay flat, lips pursed tightly into a thin line. He can’t hold back his frustration any longer. He’s growing impatient. If he didn’t get his real release soon he may really lose it. He’s grunting through his nose and tugging at his restraints, bruising his wrists. You feel him shift his hips up and shove his cock as far as he can inside you.
“Ngh! I-It won’t go any deeper!” Your voice strains as you try to lift yourself up. But he just keeps pushing until his feet are grounded. And then his hips drop, pulling his cock half way out of you.
Thrust.
Ralak slams his cock back inside you, drilling deeper than he was before. Your mouth falls open as all the air is forcefully expelled from your lungs. As you suck in a gasp of air he thrusts inside you again. And again. And again. Until he’s rutting into you in a feverish frenzy, chasing his climax as if it were prey. His thrusts turn relentless, leaving you breathless with each buck of his hips.
“Fuck—fuck—fu—” Your voice bounces with his thrusts.
You look down, met with eyes that are empty yet heavy with appetite. He’s in the thick of it and he’s no longer all there. He’s purely instinct now and the only thing holding him back from pinning you down and having his way with you is the twine wrapped around his wrists.
You can’t lie and say that you aren’t enjoying the look on his face and the break from the burn in your thighs. Stars sprinkle your vision as you’re overwhelmed with the immense pleasure he’s slamming into you. He’s fucking you into submission and you’re mind is borderline blank. His groans are primal and guttural, and they grow louder with each hysteric thrust.
“Want to knot.” He huffs suddenly—desperately. You can feel his thick knot poke and prod at your entrance, his thrusts now sloppy and erratic.
“Fuck, I—” You know you shouldn’t, no matter how hazy his rut is making you feel. “W-We can’t. I’m still ea—rly.” But he’s too busy watching himself fuck you in a daze, drenched with sweat. “Ralak…” You grab his face, tilting his chin upwards so he looks you in the face. His gaze is hollow yet his features are tense. “…are y–ou hear–ing me, la–k?”
“Need to breed.” He growls as he fights against his restraints. He doesn’t ease up on his tussle with the twine, sweating and panting as he desperately tries to force his knot inside you.
“Shit.” You mutter, coming to the quick realisation that he can’t stop himself. “Wait, wait, wait—”
Your hands fall from his face to his stomach, pushing down in a panicky attempt to lift yourself off him. But his rut is making you sluggish and weak, so you make the quick decision to sever the bond with a rough yank.
Snap.
“Oh, fuck.” You curse under your breath.
The twine breaks, and his arms fly forward, hands making impact with your hips, fingernails digging into the thin skin. His grip is unyielding as he holds you down firmly on his cock. You feel him throb inside you as he attempts to plug you full with his knot.
“Lak! Ralak, h-hold on!” As much as you actually want to, you can barely take what’s inside you as it is.
“Submit.” He rasps, top lip curled tight to his teeth, baring his canines.
“I—I’m pregnant.” You whisper quickly, voice hoarse and strained.
Immediately, his movements cease and his eyes flick down to your tiny bump, then widen when he finally realises. In one swift, sudden move, he lifts you off him and uses your swollen pussy lips to hug his cock and finish himself off. He rocks you back and forth like a rag doll at the mercy of undying grip, growling and grunting.
His head drops forward when he outright howls. You look down and witness his mushroomy head pulsating feverishly, spurting out his load in thick ropes, all over his stomach and chest. All whilst his engorged, throbbing knot pulses against your slit as he cums, earning some well deserved comfort and warmth.
Ralak sputters as he tries to catch his breath, hands still glued to your hips. The fog still clouds his mind but it’s less blinding now. He’s just about capable of acknowledging what just happened. To acknowledge that this was risky, and could’ve ended badly. That, if you hadn’t said something to him, he would have knotted you without mercy.
An uncomfortable silence passes between you, where you’re both breathing heavily and staring at one another. You both share the same thought—the same realisation. His rut is too aggressive for you to handle right now.
“I must go.” Ralak looks away as he breaks the silence, wanting to take advantage of his release before the pressure builds yet again. He’s clear headed enough to leave without turning back and pouncing on you.
“No, don’t… we can try again.” You say softly, hand cupping his jawbone, turning him to face you. You feel terrible that he may have to spend this rut alone, that you couldn’t fulfil your promise—your duty as his mate.
“I almost knotted you, y/n.” His eyes gloss over with guilt, his hands finally peeling away your bruised hips.
“But… you didn’t. You stopped yourself—”
“And if I do not leave now… I will.” Ralak growls inches away from your face.
You’re a little taken aback by his bluntness, but you know it’s the truth. And it’s final. No matter what you say. No matter how it makes the flesh between your legs throb a little more. You nod, keeping yourself quiet.
“I will see you in a couple days. I love you both.” Your lips meet briefly before he carries you to bed and readies himself to leave. You watch in silence, murmuring an “I love you, too” under your breath when he exits the marui.
—
As time passed you grew more angsty, unable to keep in one spot or focus on a single task. All that ran on your mind was Ralak and how he was probably suffering all alone. All because you failed to do your duty as his mate. The guilt was almost sickening, having you dry heaving into your bedside bucket a few times for the rest of the day.
Until later that night.
You rub in the thick, oily concoction on your belly, getting ready for bed. The sound of the marui door flapping open startles you, making you jump in your skin and clutch your stomach. You’re not expecting Ralaks return so soon.
A silhouette stands tall at the door, his bioluminescent star pattern unmistakable.
“Ralak? Oh, Ralak. Eywa. You’re back. I should have made dinner. I thought you'd be gone for a while longer. You must be so hungry. You—” You speak urgently, eyes flicking down to his tewng, which is seemingly damp, “—was it too much? …are you alright? Let me help you, lak.”
“Tanhì.” Ralaks cuts you short, voice trembling slightly, yet full of relief. “It is done.”
“…what?” The question is breathy.
“My rut.” Ralak says as he makes his way towards you, scooping up a glob of your special concoction. He sits next to you, and begins massaging it into your back. “You have fixed me.”
You come to the realization that he's talking about his rut finishing earlier than usual—like that of an average na'vi.
“You were never broken, my love.” You moan softly, closing your eyes to enjoy the massage.
Ralak then rests his chin on your shoulder, smoothing his hands down your back and around your abdomen—rubbing what's left on his hands onto your swelling belly. His touch prickles your skin, sending the tip of your tail swishing.
“I live for you.” He mutters with a thick accent, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I will die for you.”
Your heart skips a beat when you hear his words, he must have really been suffering for the past six years. You feel your face heat up, and you try to fight the smile balling your cheeks. You opt to drop your head and hide your face instead, resting a hand on his thigh.
“Well. We won’t have you doing that.” You giggle, rubbing his upper thigh as you turn your head to glance at him. “…the last part, that is.”
But he just looks at you, face still as stone. He speaks sternly.
“I will.” He speaks sternly.
You swallow your spit, tempted to drop your head again as you take in the gravity of his two words. You nod, searching his eyes with yours as you close the space between you. You hover open mouthed against his lips.
“Me too.”
——
Time waits for no one.
At least that’s how it felt. You had ballooned overnight, round and a little heavier as you embarked on your sixth month of pregnancy. His kicks grew stronger and more uncomfortable. But it was Ralaks favourite thing to feel before bed.
You found yourself spending most of your days bouncing between your marui and your family’s marui—paying your family visits more often. They grew fond of the idea that there would be an addition to the family and it became a regular thing for you to seek refuge there when Ralak was roped in for his ‘duties’. Which seemed to increase in number the further along you progressed.
Ralak had his daily duties—tending to the ilus, a few lessons, fishing... These were just the simpler tasks that you could say you knew for certain he did. But there were his ‘fkxaranga’ [stressful] duties’, as you liked to call them.
The ones where Tonowari would summon him with nothing else but a simple nudge or glance. The duties that were spontaneous. That stole precious hours of his time. Duties that left Ralak spent and on edge, reaching for his top shelf when he came home. Those were the ones you dreaded the most.
The ones like last night.
——
With a huff, Ralak chucks his gear onto the floor and roughly unclips his chest piece. His pointed tools are covered in some sort of thick, iridescent muck, shifting from green to orange as they rock side to side on the floor. It’s something you’ve been seeing recently with no idea as to what it is.
Ralak grunts, bringing your attention to his lips, which are slightly downturned. The more you take in the sight before you the more it occurs to you how exhausted this man is. His eyes are hollow, ears droopy, tail dragging heavily behind him. His muscles are seized up despite the bow of his shoulders—he looks as if he could use a massage.
“Manga [Hey, you].” You get up to meet him at the door, taking the chest piece out of his hands to hang up on the wooden stand. “Tonowari is working your tail off. Do I need to have a word with that man?”
He only works up a grumble as you lead him over to the bed. “That bad? What is he making you do? Hunt akulas? Eywa.”
Ralak sits down, face sinking into his hands before two fingers slip down to pinch the bridge of his nose. You climb up and settle behind him, huffing and puffing along the way. Your hands smooth over his back, thumbs pressing firmly into his muscles, kneading the flesh until you feel him loosen up.
Though the question sounded rhetorical, he knew it wasn’t. He knows you’re awaiting a response, the silence is loud and clear. You always want to know more about his day, fine details and all. And he’s usually reluctant to speak of it, but insisting it’s nothing for you to worry your head over. But recently, your inquisitivity is… well founded. And he knows it.
“Not quite.” He mumbles wearily into his palm, ears laid flat to his skull–although it wasn’t uncommon for him to encounter an akula or two whilst fulfilling the olo’eyktan’s orders.
You open your mouth to question him further, but you can tell that he’s more than tired. And it didn’t help that you were constantly needing his help, especially now that you’re growing heavier.
Going down the stairs is a struggle considering you can no longer see your own feet or keep your balance. You had been waking him up almost twice a night to help you down the marui stairs just to pee. He’d always be happy to help, though. He understands that this is what comes with the changes that are happening to your body that’s giving life to his child.
“Rest. Please.” You say softly, tugging at him to lie down in bed with you.
To your surprise, he actually lays down, assuming his typical position before dozing off for the night—on his back with a hand on your belly. You expected him to resist a little, insisting something or another.
He really, really must be tired. Your heart fills with something heavy. Something that makes you almost feel sick. Your brows pinch as you look beside you to see his tensed face relax into something of tranquility.
And a smile pulls at your lips when his eyes fall shut.
Dinner’s over the firepit—his favourite stew with extra mushrooms. The sound of it bubbling becomes louder as it thickens. With a quick, final stir, you take it off the fire and cover it to let it sit. You hope that this will help lift his mood when he wakes. You look over to him as he lays stockstill with softened features, breathing tidally.
Holding onto a supporting beam of the marui, you bring yourself to your feet and waddle your way over to him. You extend a hand to wake him for dinner but you hesitate. He needs this. And that’s when you make the decision to allow him however long it takes to rest. Even if it means that you speak to Tonowari yourself.
Night falls and the temperature falls with it. The glowing firepit keeps the stew and marui warm for the time being as you prepare for bed. You draw the curtains and glance over to your mate, who still remains in a deep sleep, tucked cozily under the blanket you covered him with. You drape the shawl he wove you over your shoulders, and make your way to the door.
A silent yawn splits your lips just before you lift away the flap. Your eyelids are heavy and the drowsiness is weighing on you tenfold. You have one last step of your nightly routine before you can crawl into bed next to your husband. And that's emptying the bladder that your son uses as a footrest. Plus, if you didn’t do it now, it would just be an additional trip in the middle of the night.
As you make your way to the door, the need to go becomes urgent. Perhaps it was all the water you thirstily chugged whilst eating, or maybe it's just the fact that you're already on your way there. Either way, you can’t seem to get there quick enough. Your movements turn hasty the second you get to the top step, hands clutching on the only thing available—your bulging belly. You’re looking down despite the fact that you can’t even see your feet.
Leaning forward slightly, you try to shift your stomach to the side to see your next step. You step down and feel your bare foot make contact with the slippery wood. Your toes press into its surface to ground you as you take your next step. You wobble when you get to the last step, and sigh in relief when you feel the cold, wet sand spill between your toes.
After wasting no time and doing what you came to do, you quickly make your way back to the marui. The tips of your ears and tails are just going numb from how cold it is and the night dew is beginning to form. You get to the bottom step, fixing your shawl so that it’s out the way. You make your way up the first, second and third step, but when you get to the fourth your shawl falls forward.
And so do you.
A blood curdling shriek rips from your throat when you feel your feet give out beneath you. Your hands splay out to grab onto whatever’s around you to break your fall but before you know it you're tumbling back down the stairs at a frightening rate. You keep on your side as best you can, landing into the sand with a muffled thump.
“Fuck. Shit—oh, great mother—” You mutter as you hyperventilate, clutching your stomach as you wait for your son to kick—to show you some sign of life. Your eyes well with tears as you rub your bump vigorously. Your heart is slamming violenting against your rib cage, so hard you can hear it over the ringing in your ears. “Please, please, please.”
…but nothing.
“Y/n?!” You hear Ralaks worried voice boom behind you, then his hurried footsteps down the stairs.
Maybe it’s his fathers voice, but your unborn son gives you one of the biggest kicks yet. You sob out a laugh, rubbing your stomach as relief flows through your body. You take a few deep breaths through your mouth to calm down, feeling another reassuring kick.
“Y/n. Y/n.” Ralak chants your name, eyes rapidly darting side to side to assess you as he kneels beside you. Concern’s etched deeply into his features as he lifts your arms and legs, searching for injuries.
“I’m alright. I’m alright.” You repeat urgently, but he continues to look, even taking off your shawl. His eyes are wide and he seems to be in some level of shock, especially after coming straight out of a deep sleep. “Ralak. Really. I’m fine. We’re okay.”
Ralaks features soften at your two final words. His stare falls to your swollen belly, hands taking the place of yours as he waits. After a few seconds of stillness, his eyes snap up to yours—refilling with worry. He begins to shake his head, and you reassure him with a hand to his face.
“Talk to him.” You whisper with trembling lungs. Ralak looks back down to your stomach.
“Maitan [My son].” Your mate says in a low, steady voice, ensuring not to allow even a hint of fright slip through. Just then, he feels a little nudge against the palm of his hand. Ralaks gaze snaps up to you and his expression relaxes, hands rubbing your belly gently. “How did this happen, tanhì?”
“I…needed to pee.” You say shamefully, avoiding eye contact. “…and I tripped going up the steps.” You glance up at him to see what you perceive to be a face of disappointment. “I’m sorry. I know, I’m so stupid.”
“No. Do not say that.” He interjects, tensing his jaw. “...you are heavy with child—why did you not wake me?”
“You were so, so tired. You needed to rest, and I did not want to disturb you.” You turn to your side to get up, wincing when a sharp pain shoots down your back.
“Careful.” He clears his throat, stopping you from trying to get up on your own. He watches your contorted face relax, but the heart wrenching guilt just gets worse. “You should have. Wake me for anything.” He says sternly, snaking his arms underneath you to lift you up. “Everything.”
“You really don’t have to—” Ralak continues, scooping you in his arms and holding you close to his chest. “I can walk. I’m all right, Ralak.”
You try to reassure him, shuffling in his arms to get down. But he only muffles out a sigh, glancing down at you with downturned brows and droopy ears. He then walks away from the marui stairs, to the direction of the water.
“Where are we going?” You ask quickly when you realise that you’re walking away from home. Ralak clicks for his tsurak, taking his time as he mounts it with you tucked to his chest. “Ralak.”
“To tsahìk.” He states, making the bond with his beast.
“Ronal?” You sound almost panicked as the idea of everyone knowing you fell up the stairs clouds your mind. It’s almost mortifying to think about. “We don’t need to do that, it’s really late too, and—”
Commanding his beast to go, you both take off at full speed. It doesn’t take long to arrive at the tsahìk’s healing pod. Many healers gather at the door when they hear the sound of Ralak’s low pitched call. And they rush out to meet him as he carries you towards them in a hurried manner. They usher you in, hushed murmurs growing louder and clearer as they bring you to Ronal.
You didn’t even notice the burning pain in your lower back until you were about half way here.
The Tsahìk stands upon your entrance, her crystal blue eyes widening when she sees Ralak with you in his arms. You wince as he lays you down where the healers instruct him to. She strides over to a woven basket filled with an array of herbs and needle-like wooden sticks, and quickly props it on her hip—just out of the way of her own bump. She settles herself beside you, feeling your stomach as she channels Eywa.
Ronal throws a look to Ralak, whose hands are on his hips as he waits patiently for the verdict.
“She fell.” He says, only for Ronal to cock an eyebrow. “Stairs.” He finishes. Then both her eyebrows raise, and she reaches for a jar of a ground up, purplish herb. She pours half of it into a wooden bowl, and activates it with a few drops of water from the spirit tree.
“Baby is strong. Very strong.” The Tsahìk announces, and both you and Ralak heave a loud sigh of relief. “But—” Ronal props your legs up on the makeshift table, spreading them slightly. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you look over to Ralak. “You are still at risk.”
Ralak moves closer to you, taking your hand in his to keep you calm. You both watch as Ronal rolls the fabric tightly into a small cylindrical shape. You swallow your spit when you realise exactly where that’s going.
“This ensures he stays. It will also help with the pain.” She states, glancing at Ralak to see the glare he’s trying to hold back. She shakes her head slightly and hands you the precautionary apparatus. “Insert. Rest…and remove at sunrise.” Ronal continues, drawing back the curtain to give you some privacy.
“Sunrise?” You whisper to yourself as you watch her step out.
Your eyes dart up to Ralak who is clearly concerned, staring down at you with worry in his eyes. Embarrassment heats up your cheeks and your nerves fray. Why are you so shy all of a sudden? He’s your mate. Your husband.
You sit up a bit more and try to see over your stomach to get the task done with shaky hands. You fumble and struggle with the flimsy cloth, blindly doing your best. But each time you lean forward the pain in your back burns hotter.
Ralak’s supporting you with a hand on your upper back, patiently waiting for you, noticing your trembling fingers and little grunts. He uses his free hand to cup yours, stilling your hurried movements.
“Mawey [calm]. Breathe.” He hums, gently taking it from you and helping you lay down.
You look him in the eyes as he inserts it carefully, wincing when the concoction stings a bit. Ralak gives your hand a light squeeze, speaking as if he had access to your thoughts. You nod, trying to smile through the burning sensation, but he picks up on your discomfort.
“What is it? Is it your back?" His voice quavers with worry.
“No… just burns a little.” You say quietly. You watch his jaw flutter and his shoulders droop as he huffs out a sigh. “Not to worry. It’s going away now.”
As he’s about to speak, the curtain is drawn to the side and Ronal comes in and stands at the arched entrance, hand on her hip. Ralak averts his attention to her, his eyes glancing down at her unborn moving in her belly. Although you were both six months pregnant, you were noticeably bigger than her.
“A word.” Her serious tone of voice brings him out of deep thought, and her nudging head tells him that it’s something urgent.
Ralak looks at you, not wanting to leave you alone but you smile and reassure him with a light nod. He clenches his jaw but you give him a gentle push towards Ronal. He squeezes your hand before letting go and leans in to plant a firm kiss on your forehead. You watch as he leaves, laying back and taking in the ripples in the curtain as you strain to hear their hushed conversation.
“Ronal. Oe irayo si ngaru. [Thank you]” Ralak begins, bowing before the shorter na’vi.
“I worry for your mate.” Ronal cuts to the chase, using her hand to guide him further away from the curtain.
“For what reason?” He asks, keeping his head hung to hear what she has to say. They walk until they’re nearly at the entrance of the healing pod.
“Your son is fast growing.” She speaks calmly but quickly.
Ralak is a little puzzled, although he doesn’t show it. Is that such a bad thing? He continues to look down at her with the same expression, listening intently to what the tsahìk speaks of.
“Her body will struggle. Birth will be hard. Very long and painful.” Now Ralak is having a hard time keeping his emotions concealed as they chisel themselves into his features. Yet he remains silent. “You must warn her about mun’i [the cut].”
“Pxasìk [no way/fuck that]” Ralak curses through a hiss in his native tongue as he stands at full height, figuratively and literally taken aback. How dare she call that upon his mate? Ronal returns a low hiss as Ralak moves away from her, staring down at her with a mixture of emotions.
Concern. Surprise. Fear.
Mun’i [the cut] is rare and risky. Only three have been performed since the birth of this clan, all done in desperation when hope was gone. The last one was performed by Ronal's mother herself. It is an extremely invasive procedure where the mother is cut and the infant is removed. It’s only done in dire situations, where the mother is incapable of giving birth to their young naturally, and risks dying in the process.
Ralak can’t help but feel a burning anger amongst the sea of emotions flooding him at once. How could she suggest such a thing to him? Something so dangerous and grave? All because you will give birth to ‘a different kind’. He’s more than confident that you’re capable of this, despite the murmurs circulating the clan.
He has always been aware of Ronal's perception of you, and her opinion about the mating. It was no secret, though she never outwardly told Ralak as he is like a son to her. She often insisted that you two were not compatible in more ways than one, and always saw you as the forest girl who needed special training. But to know that Ronal doubts your capabilities to give life ignites a flame in his chest.
One that he must quickly put out.
“Ralak!”
He hears you call out for him, prompting him to quell the flame and shoot Ronal a glare of displeasure. “She is stronger than you know.” Ralak speaks through his teeth before turning his heel to tend to you.
Heart pounding, he makes his way through the curtain to be met with the joyous sight of you cradling your stomach with a smile plastered to your face. That only further calms the flicker of the flame in his chest, making a smile tug at his lips. He sees you glance up at him, pearly teeth glistening in the luminosity of the night.
“Sorry if I startled you, it’s just—he’s kicking so hard. Come, come feel!” You blubber excitedly, reaching out for his hand to place it on your belly. He slowly takes a knee, staying still as stone to soak up each movement. “He is so strong, Ralak. Like you.” You whisper, looking down at your mate doting on your bump.
Though he should be proud of your words, he can’t help but feel a little nervous by them. If this child is really like him, then what Ronal said may have some truth to it. Yet he smiles, smoothing his thumb over your protruding belly button.
“He is strong like his sa’nu [mummy].” He says softly, perhaps in attempts to reassure himself and calm his own nerves. Your smile only grows and you place your hand on top of his.
“What did Ronal say?” Ralaks eyes snap up to yours, wide and almost panicked, wiping the smile off your face instantly. “Oh, no. Is it bad? Is something wrong?”
“No, no. She says…” He drops his head, watching his unborn move as he contemplates telling you. You need rest, and this would further stress your mind and body. Ralak urges himself to smile—to create a new mask—one of feigned happiness. “…you must rest. Wait until sunrise.”
“Oh, okay.” You exhale a sigh of relief, “Good. I—I can do that.”
——
After such an eventful night, sleep found you easily. Ralak carried you up the marui stairs, tucked you into bed and watched as your eyes fluttered shut. And even so, he remained at your side for some time, ensuring you were deep in sleep before embarking on his new task.
It began with a ‘quick’ trip inland for the right kind of wood. The kind that holds up well against the elements and the saltiness of the water. The kind that doesn’t have a slip to it when it's been wet for more than a few hours. It took a few trips to get it all back to the beach but it was more of an irritable task than a difficult one.
Ralak tried to keep as quiet as possible, spending the rest of the night—until sunrise—cutting and carving the wood, binding them together with twine, sap and wooden pins. And by the time the first few rays of sunlight beamed in, he was engraving his finishing touches.
—
Ralak chucks down the tool and it lands into the sand with a muffled thud. Using the back of his strake to wipe his forehead clean of sweat, he looks up at his work for a final time—railings for the marui stairs. Then the bright ray of sun shines before his eyes, standing between his two new creations.
You.
You’re surprised to see him out this early, still in his gear from last night. The realisation dawns on you that he’s been up all night, doing this. You can actually feel your chest warm up as your heart pumps the blood through your veins at an insane rate. It rushes to your cheeks, making them hot and flushed.
“Is this what you’ve been doing all night?” You ask the question under your breath, dragging a hand along the railing. It’s smooth under the pads of your fingers, and warm to the touch, as if they’ve just been filed down. You notice a small carving on the side of the railing—your son’s initial.
R.
“Mm.” He grunts, not that he could have slept anyways. He glances at the initial that you’re staring at. “I should have done it long ago.” The shame in his voice is loud and clear. You look down at your feet, unsure of what to say, noticing that he’s redone the steps too.
“Ralak—”
“You must still wake me. Understand?” He cuts you off, already knowing what you’re about to say.
You take a step down, holding tightly onto the railing with one hand and the other tucked under your bump. He rushes up the stairs and supports you by the arm. You lean into him for a hug, nuzzling your face into his chest. “… thank you, my love.”
“Kea tìkin [no need (for thanks)].” He presses his lips onto the crown of your head, words muffled by your hair. His hand slips down your arm and rests on your lower back. “Still feeling pain?”
“No. I feel good. Like new.” You smile, watching his features soften and his lips pull into a subtle smile. “Your son, too. He kicked me all night.”
“Is that so, young one?” He leans down to speak to your belly as you watch intently, “you must be gentle with your sa’nu [mummy].”
As he looks back up to you, your eyes follow his every move. And suddenly it’s just the two of you, before the orange glow of the sunrise, sharing this intimate gaze with one another.
“Ralak… I see you.” You say softly, witnessing his pupils blow until there’s nothing but thin rings of blue.
He swallows, you see the lump in his throat undulate, and the balls of his cheeks stain a light pink. He blinks a few times, leaning in until his lips brush against yours. He lingers there for a bit, jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth a few times. He can’t help but feel a pang in his chest.
How could he keep this from you?
“Oel ngat kame, ma’ muntxate.” He husks the words before locking his lips with yours.
But as he pulls away, you see the glint in his eye. When he sees your lowered brows and inquisitive eyes, he attempts to fix his mask of indifference—no, happiness. But you see right through it—
The glint of guilt.
“What is it?” You ask, reaching behind him for his kuru. It’s your way of saying, 'no secrets'. He’s quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. Unsure of how to say what he should say. You urge him with a light tug to his queue, creating a little more distance between you to look him dead in the eye. “Ralak.”
“Ronal doubts…you.” He says plainly, trying hard to rid himself of the thought of childbirth taking you away from him.
“I don’t understand. What—what does that mean?” You ask, confused and worried.
“I should have told you about it when you asked.” Ralak says, shaking his head. “But…you were already under so much stress. In pain. Our son—”
“Ralak. Tell me about what?” You whisper quietly—quickly. Ralak looks at you, allowing a few seconds of silence to pass before he speaks.
“Mun’i [the cut].” Ralak’s voice cracks with pain as the dreaded thought floods his mind.
Ralak goes on to explain mun'i, giving you a brief lesson on its history and typical…outcome. He explains why Ronal urged him to warn you about it. And exactly what he told her in return. That he is confident that you are more capable of doing this.
It ends with a comforting embrace and the both of you coming to the conclusion that a conservation with Jake is needed. If the cut were to happen, the sky people’s medical advancements would be…useful.
——
Since then, Ralak adapted a very strict agenda when it came to the preparation of the birth. In some ways, it reminded you of the beginning of your relationship with him as teacher and student. Karyu and Numeyu. A revision of previous lessons, such as breathing lessons.
—
“Deeper breaths, tanhì. Slow.” Ralak instructs you with his hand on your round belly.
“It’s hard…” your voice is strained, “when his feet are in my lungs.”
Ralak chuckles, nodding in understanding. “Right. Do your best.”
You attempt to follow his demonstration a fifth time, inhaling deeply through your nose, holding it, and then slowly letting it out through your mouth. “Light headed now.”
“You did well.” Ralak praises you, snaking an arm around you as he lowers you onto your back. “You all right?”
“Just fine.” You mutter, grateful for the new position.
Ralak looks at you for a while, taking in a sight that may be similar to the one of you giving birth—giving life. The reality that you will soon be a family quickly dawns on him. The reality that… Ronal's words still weigh heavy on his heart.
“And when you bear down…” Ralak pulls your leg back, your knee now grazing against your cheek as they flush with embarrassment. “…shallow, fast breaths. Do not hold it.”
He then demonstrates, emphasising the sound of the breathing technique to ensure you’re doing it properly.
'…hee—hee—hoo…'
You mimic his sounds, looking down to see nothing but your protruding bump. It may be strange to some that Ralak is teaching you a lesson on something such as childbirth. But with his mother-figure being the tsahìk, there were just certain things he grew to have knowledge of.
“Ronal says there are times where it is best to allow your body to take over. Focus on breathing him out. Let your body do the work for you…” You nod slowly as you practice deep breathing in this new position, “…she will show you some positions in your lesson tomorrow.”
"What?" Your ears perk up. For some reason one on one interactions with Ronal always make you nervous.
“The other expecting women of the clan will be there.”
Your ears relax, and you feel a little more at ease knowing you won’t be alone, even if it’s a sea of gossiping women. At least they were more discreet about it.
——
As you neared the final months of your pregnancy, Ralak was called out more frequently. The aches and pains that came along with being so big were just as frequent, it seemed. They’d hit you at the strangest times, during your sleep or whilst on your tsurak.
But when the pain spread to your abdomen is when Ralak urged you to take things easy. But they didn’t stop him from going anywhere. No matter how badly he wanted to stay home and tend to you. It was more complicated than that. Something that you were blissfully unaware of. Something he wanted to keep that way until it was the right time to tell you.
—
“Must you go?” You ask hopefully, tugging at his bicep. “You just got back.”
“Tono will have my head, tahnì.” He states, buckling his chest gear yet another time for today.
“It’s not fair. Not even the warriors back at home tree were called out so much. Especially if their mate was this far along.” You huff, letting go off his bicep to clutch your protruding belly. He cups a hand over yours, leaning down to kiss your forehead.
“Ah. I know, I know. I want to stay, I do—” He’s cut off by your sudden gasp, and your face screwing with discomfort. “Are you alright?” His voice turns fills with concern, head tilting even more so that he can look you in the face. It felt as if your back set ablaze and your stomach hardened into rock. It eases up within a few seconds and you take a quick breath before answering.
“Yeah, I think so.” You feel around your bump, taking note of how it’s softened and back to normal. “…that’s the second one today.”
“Hm. It is. See Ronal while I am gone.” Ralak insists, tucking a couple loose braids behind your ear. You nod in response, gritting your teeth from the reminder that he’s leaving again. “I will speak with Tonowari today.”
He’s quick to kiss you, lingering longer than he should. You savor his tender touch, breathing him in until you’ve gotten your fill to last you until he’s back. He pulls away, a grimace fixed to his face as it’s almost painful to do. He rubs your belly a final time, clicking for his beast. Reluctantly, he leaves, and so do you.
—
‘Practice Contractions.’
Ronal’s diagnosis of your pains.
You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the concept. Mom calls them something different, but it all means the same thing at the end of the day. The body’s way of preparing to give birth. The constriction of your stomach, accompanied by intense pain, at random times with no rhythm.
It’s normal, and expected. Ronal was particularly pleased to see your body do this early in your pregnancy. It typically occurs a couple weeks prior to birth, and both of you weren’t due for another month.
They’re nothing to worry about, but she advises to rest if they get too intense. You waddle home with your tail dragging behind you, unhappy to see no sign of your mates return.
—
“You are late.” Tonowari speaks monotonously, back turned to Ralak as he keeps his eyes on his task—forging a new tool. Ralak has to swallow his frustration and maintain his confidence.
“It will happen soon.” He responds in a similar tone, his eyes following as the olo’eyktan stands. “I must be with her.”
“I understand. I do. But—” Tonowari finishes up the last touches, giving the tool its final inspection. “This is your duty, son.”
“She, is my duty.” Ralak snaps, his frustration slipping through.
Feeling challenged, Tonowari turns to face him, now eye level with Ralak as he slowly nears his subordinate—chest to chest. But with a pregnant mate of his own, and the fact that Ralak is like his own son, Tonowari huffs a sigh and gives this a pass.
“This is for her, too. For the people of the clan. You know what we are about to face. You will do this.” The olo’eyktan states sternly. “When the horn sounds… you come. And that…” he shoves the tool into Ralak’s chest, “…is an order.”
Holding the tool against his own chest, Ralak looks away from Tonowari, grinding his back teeth hard enough to file them flat. He breathes heavily, attempting to recenter himself and stamp out the flame flickering in his chest. Tonowari gives him space, going ahead and mounting his skimwing, readying himself to embark on their journey. Whilst Ralak is left behind to let out a sluggish, shaky breath, closing his eyes when it dawns on him...
…what he must do, where he must go and who he must see.
All before coming home this evening.
—
“Zu’té.”
Ralak calls his name outside of the secluded, dim marui pod. It’s familiar, yet so unknown. It’s an eerie feeling to be standing here. It’s as if no one’s home. Not a single flame burning, nor the residual heat of a smothered fire pit. But Ralak can sense his presence. It’s thick. Aggressive. Just as it’s always been. It’s only intensified since the incident.
The silence is deafening now. A message loud enough to have Ralak reconsidering his actions—rethinking his feelings. No part of him really desired to ask anything of this man, much less this. But in the case Tonowari really doesn’t budge with his decision, it is something he must do. No matter how many years have passed. Ralak has moved on…come to terms with what’s happened, and is in a much better place in his life now. Because of you.
You.
He’s doing this for you. Or is he? The fact he’s fathered a child has a major influence on his decision to be standing here to begin with… perhaps it’s something within him driven by nature—by instinct. The further you’ve progressed, the more he’s thought about rekindling this relationship. But he always brushed off these passing thoughts, until they were no longer just thoughts that passed. They became thoughts that lingered and kept him awake some nights.
Showing their faces the most when Tonowari reminds him of the imminent danger the clan may face.
They reminded him of the good times when they were children. Teasing the ilus when no one was looking, sneaking off to the reef where the adults went to hunt just to see what it was like. But it also reminded him of the more unfortunate moments they shared. Those that will forever leave a scar on their souls, branded by pain and suffering. Since then, Ralak took an oath to never allow his own family to suffer the way he did.
If this is what he must do, he’ll do it.
“I am in need of a favour.” Ralak finally admits, witnessing a tall, thick silhouette emerge from the marui.
At this angle, its darkness looms over Ralak ominously. Green glowing eyes peer down at Ralak as the figure's hands cross defensively over his chest. He steps out of the darkness, revealing his inked face and intricately up-kept hair. He looks as if he’s been disturbed or rudely interrupted, evident in the way his eyes pierce fearlessly into Ralak. But Ralak simply returns the leer.
“Zu’té.” Ralak speaks his name again, a little more sternly this time.
“Brother. To what do I owe this visit?” His tone is sarcastic with undertones of hostility.
Ralak sighs, turning his head away from his older brother, fixating his gaze elsewhere. His jawbone flutters as he struggles to figure out what words to string together next. This isn’t easy for him—being here with his tail tucked between his legs.
“It is no way easy for me to ask you of this…I know we have not spoken for some time.”
“Really? You think so? I would say it has been a little more than ‘some time’, no?” Zu’té’s irritation is shining through now.
“Agreed.” Ralak speaks sharply, dropping his head, gaze piercing into his own feet. He swallows and sighs once more, finally lifting his head to look his brother in the face. "I need your help, brother."
“Hm.” Zu’té scoffs, meeting his stare flagrantly. “Let me get this right. You come here, wake me out my sleep, speak to me like this for the first time in over forty-eight seasons…and demand my help?”
“You are the only one I trust with this.” Ralak grinds out the words, they are hard to admit.
This quietens Zu’té, causing his features to soften and his fixed stare to falter. To hear this after twelve years, straight from his brother’s mouth has him a little taken aback. There’s only one thing that it could mean—that could bring the golden child before him, begging for a favour.
War.
“What does our ‘mighty’ olo’eyktan have you up to now, baby brother?” Zu’té’s tone is especially sardonic when speaking of their father-figure.
“Plenty.” Ralak chuckles quietly, shaking his head in amusement. His curved lips fade into a thin line, returning his grim expression when he’s reminded yet again of his exact reason for being here. “Look…” Ralak exhales, “...it is nowhere likeable for me to show my face like this. Trust me, I have thought of every possible solution. But…" he shakes his head, hesitant to share what he must say next. "My mate...she is pregnant."
Zu’té’ sighs when he realizes the gravity of the situation, eyes narrowing as they look behind Ralak to scan his surroundings. He’s far from all of the neighbouring marui pods, being the last pod along the mangroves. But if someone were nearby, they could eavesdrop with ease.
Zu’té lightly nudges his head, giving Ralak the silent signal to enter his marui. Ralak moves slowly, a little surprised by his change in...heart. Annoyed with Ralak's sluggish movement, Zu’té rolls his eyes.
“What? You expect an invitation?" Zu’té asks the rhetorical question loud and clear, watching in awe as his not-so-little brother stands almost eye to eye with him. "...you've grown."
"Surprised?" Ralak mutters, ears spasming from his brother's comment—shuffling past him.
"Don't get smart with me, little brother." Zu’té snaps with his ears pinned to his skull, automatically slipping back into disciplining his younger brother like he once used to. Ralak fights the smirk pulling at his lips, making his way further into the neat, well-decorated marui.
——
Ralak came home that night, as he does most nights nowadays with a heavy tail and tensed muscles. That night he broke the news that he had no luck with Tonowari. That he remained tied to his duties as a warrior, teacher, hunter and evidently more…that you had no knowledge of.
But he made it clear that none of them came before you—his most important duty of all. He promised not only to your father, but also to you, to put you first, no matter what. That he will do whatever he needs to ensure your safety is never compromised. Even if it means putting his pride aside, and asking for help, as he did that night.
The desire to prepare for your son's arrival grew with each passing day, making you nest like an expecting ikran. You smoked enough meat to last for the next couple months, and gathered as many herbs and fruits that you could manage.
Weaving has been one of your more frequent tasks, making a couple slings and a few more blankets. Ralak was quick to build the cot when he got into a nesting frenzy, too.
But regardless of what your next task was, it was always a little bit harder…a little bit more tiring. Until you were so round and heavy that most of them became unachievable. Your size started to affect you in more ways than just physical. It started to affect you mentally, too. Playing tricks on your mind, making you think negatively about yourself.
And Ralak picked up on that very quickly.
——
As you wait for his return, you give the marui another deep clean. You take small breaks often, sitting down whenever you become short of breath.
Whilst you sweep the patio, you see your mate trudge up the stairs, ears pinned back and exhaustion wrinkled into his forehead. Ralak sees you and wastes no time to take the broom from you and pull you into his chest.
He holds you in silence. Comfortable silence. Savouring how you feel against his body. The thud of your heartbeat, the warmth of your skin. You’re his safe place. His home. As he is yours. His embrace is what you look forward to the most after a long day apart.
Perhaps this is what you both need. A moment of peace and quiet, where your focus is purely on the person in front of you. A break from the mayhem that life can entail, from the pull and push of the rough tides. Serenity. All to be interrupted by Ralak pulling away, holding you by the arms to create some distance between you two.
Furrowed brows and beaded eyes stare back at you when you look at him. He’s staring at you, but not at you. His eyes pierce into your chest, and then peel away to flick down at his stomach. A smile creeps on his face, and a huff of air through his nostrils as he chuckles softly. His gaze finally meets yours, and he lets go of your arms.
“Your milk is in.” He almost whispers, his fingertips grazing against your stomach.
“What?” You breathe, caught off guard to say the least. Your head snaps down, eyes searching every inch of your shawl to find two large, growing wet spots on it. “O-Oh.” You stutter, looking back up at him, catching sight of the glistening liquid on his stomach. “Oh.”
Your cheeks grow hot when blood rushes to them from embarrassment. Just another thing pregnancy has bestowed upon you. “Sorry, Lak.” You turn to reach for the nearby cloth that hangs by the window.
“What for?” He asks innocently—a little confused.
He watches as you wipe him down in an almost frantic manner. He stills your movements by grasping your wrists, causing you to drop the cloth. He brings your hands to his lips.
“Mawey [Calm]. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He speaks into the palm of your hands. You hear his words, but you still can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Hey.”
He lets go, and cups your cheek, urging you to look at him. When you finally do, he’s smiling down at you, allowing his hand to slip down to the bow of your shoulder—his fingers hooking underneath the hem of your shawl. “Let me clean you up, hm?”
“Oh—okay.” You stutter shyly, feeling his fingers slip under the woven fabric to slip it off your shoulders. “W-Wait.”
And when the material hits the floor, a shiver shakes your spine. Your breasts are exposed to the cool air, sticky nipples hardened into peaks for him to see. They’ve darkened in colour, and are even a little more puffy too.
Honestly, you weren’t the biggest fan of them anymore. You wore thicker tops or shawls to conceal them, just as you did your stomach with your new…stripes. But Ralak loves them, always stealing a glance at every given chance.
But to know that they’re full with milk makes him feel…on edge.
His eyes bore into them, unapologetically taking in every detail. His smile falls into a slight smirk, which then droops into a thin line. His jaw flutters as he grits his teeth, biting back his urges.
“Don’t stare.” You whisper shyly, covering your chest with one arm and your belly with the other. He looks at you, and reaches for your arms, peeling them away from your body.
“Beautiful.” He states as a fact, intertwining his fingers with yours. “So beautiful, carrying my child.”
“‘m really not.” You mumble, looking away in shame. You feel his hand move to your face, two fingers tugging at your jaw to have you look up at him. When you finally give in to his nudges, you see the look on his face. It was as if you had deeply and personally offended him.
“You are.” He insists softly.
You simply shake your head, arms instinctively wrapping around your chest and belly once more. “I don’t feel it. I don’t even know how you can look at me and say that.”
Ralak almost feels angered by your words. It hurts him to hear you speak of yourself in such a way, especially when it’s far from the truth. If anything, he’s even more attracted to you. Knowing that this is what your body is going through to bring his child into the world has made him even more appreciative of you.
“Never say such things.” He husks firmly, removing your hands from your body and keeping them in his grasp. “Do not hide.”
“You have barely touched me.” You retaliate, voice cracking with hurt.
“Not for that reason.” He’s quick to cut you short, making sure you know that the last thing stopping him from pouncing on you every chance he gets is the way you look. Absolutely not.
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself, then—”
Frustrated, Ralak shoves your hand onto his loincloth, pressing it firmly against the bulge that strains against the material. “You feel that?”
You do, you feel every inch of it, hard and warm against your palm. Your face heats up even more, cheeks staining a bright red. Your breath turns raggedy as you struggle to find the words to say.
“Hm?” He grunts as he presses himself even harder against the palm of your hand.
“Y-Yes.” You stutter. Ralak turns you around, pressing himself into you from behind. His heated lips are flush against your ear, hot breath prickling your skin.
“This is what you do to me.” Ralak husks into the shell of your ear, grinding his bulge into the swell of your ass. “Day after day.” He groans almost painfully, filled with all sorts of emotions. He holds you firm against his body, grazing his bottom teeth against the lobe of your ear. “All it takes is a single glance.” His words have your clit pulsing under your tewng and your thighs rubbing against one another. “The sight of you…of your swollen breasts… your swollen womb…” he hisses, on edge and high strung as he caresses your belly, “…it makes me lose myself.”
“Fuck.” You breathe, reaching behind you to tug his loincloth down in a frantic manner. You feel his lips nibble and nip at the skin behind your ear, making their way down the back of your neck. You can’t help but moan from the feeling, your already stiff nipples tingling from his gentle touches.
You feel his hands wander over your stomach and under your tewng, his fingers fondling your folds as he gently parts them. He grunts against your neck, inhaling your scent deep in his lungs as his hips stutter into you. Your stickiness coats his fingers as they slip and slide over your hardened nub.
You tug even harder at his loincloth, struggling to get the annoying thing off him. You let out a frustrated grunt, and he lets loose an amused chuckle, peppering soft kisses down to the bow of your shoulder.
“What is it? Need me to take you right here?” He husks low, voice muffled by his continuous kisses. “…where someone may see?”
Right, you’re on the patio.
Out in the open, under the light of the moon. Ralaks marui pod is far from the village on a cul de sac. The only thing further than here is sand, open water and a couple smaller islands off in the distance. However, there' is's always the slim chance of a na’vi or two going for a late night swim or on a romantic adventure far from the village.
But you simply didn’t care.
If anything it only riles you up more—the riskiness of it all, the thought of being caught. The need to be sneaky and quiet, when all you want to do is moan his name until your voice goes dim. It seems that Ralak feels similarly as you feel him throb against you, excited to take you where you stand.
“I don’t mind.” You huff shakily, finally tugging the cloth down enough for his cock to spring out. “Do you?”
You feel him smile against your shoulder when you grip it in your hand, smooth teeth bumping into your skin as his free hand cups your full breast.
“Not at all, my tanhì.” He breathes, gently kneading the soft flesh, feeling the trickle of your milk flow over the back of his hand.
“Good.” Your lungs tremble beneath his touch, hand desperately stroking his length. Yet he remains gentle with his touches, pinning your clit between his two fingers as he rubs you slowly. “Then hurry…I need you inside.”
Ralak quickly moves his kisses back up your neck, and you feel the tip of his tongue tickle the lobe of your ear before he suckles on it lightly. Tingles ripple up your spine, sending your head into a shiver as you lean into his mouth. His fingers dip into your soaking core just as he rolls your tender nipple between his other two digits.
It’s all too much. All-consuming. Making you gasp for air in lungs that won’t seem to fill. Fog clouds your head. How did you get here? How did this happen? Fuck, it doesn’t matter. Not when you feel like this.
You’re already so sensitive as it is, so tender and delicate, like silk under his fingers. He pushes his two fingers even deeper inside your aching pussy, curling them and earning a whimper from your lips and quiver of your tail.
“Not too loud, oeyä sevin muntxate [my pretty/beautiful wife]”. Ralak whispers the hushed praise, knowing it’s what you need to hear.
You’re so much warmer around his fingers than usual, so much softer. Wetter. With each curl of his digits comes out a squelch as he works you open for his cock that he’s been dying to plunge inside you.
You wrap your leg around his, perching your heel on the side of thigh as you lean all your weight back into him. He steadies his knees, supporting you with ease. Your head slumps back into his shoulder, opening up your neck to his hot breaths, an arm reaching behind you to fist his hair.
His brows are tense and his breath is heavy. He’s overcome with arousal and he can’t keep his composure as your scent grows stronger now your throat is directly under his nose. Truthfully it’s been too long, he knows that. He knows he’s been too protective, too cautious. Depriving you and him of the touch that’s necessary between a mated pair.
His fingers slip out of you, now expertly unravelling the loose knot just barely keeping your tewng on you. As it drops to the floor his fingers are back where they were, rubbing sloppy circles into your clit before spreading your pussylips apart. His hips stutter as he attempts to align the crown of his cock with your slit and finally buck forward when he senses your little, exposed hole.
His cock sinks inside you at an achingly slow pace—inch by inch. You let loose a lengthy moan when you feel him fill you completely, no longer caring if anyone hears you.
“Hnng—I missed you.” The gruff words slip out as he bottoms out inside your cunt. He has longed to feel your gummy walls squeeze oh-so tightly around his cock. “You alright?” He checks on you in a daze, voice thick with want—with the desire to pummel your little pussy until your voice is hoarse. But the last thing he wants is to hurt his heavily pregnant mate.
“Mhm, ple-ase.” You purr with need, closing your eyes and relaxing completely into him. Trusting someone this much feels too good. Ralak moves slowly, pumping his cock in and out of you in a languid haze, tickling your sensitive clit with just the tips of his fingers.
“Tanhì—haah—you are squeezing me so tight.” Ralak moans as his strokes grow with intent. His hips roll deep, shoving and forcing his cock inside your sensitive cunt until his swollen balls kiss your clit.
He’s unapologetically coaxing out the orgasm you’ve been denied for so long with only a few lazy thrusts. And he knows it. He can feel it from the way you clench around him. From the way your thighs tremble a little more after each deep stroke…from the sweet, filthy noises that shamelessly drip from your lips.
“Oh my—Ralak! I-I’m gonna—” You sputter the words between choked sounds, eyes welling with tears from the burn between your legs.
“I know, I know.” He huffs, dragging his hot tongue along the length of your throat. The truth is, he’s close too. But he can’t allow himself to finish inside you. He can’t risk letting himself go and pounding recklessly into your poor, tender pussy. He’s already had a long day. “Let it out, tìyawn [love].”
Its almost cathartic.
Weeks of pent up frustration released in a few minutes, leaving you near convulsing in his grip. You can’t stop the flutter of your pussy walls if you try, it’s out of your control, much like the surge of white fire going right through you. Your legs fight to stay open and you hold onto your mate to keep you standing. Gurgled noises spill from your lips as your body shudders under him. His hips still, keeping his cock buried to the hilt inside your quivering cunt as he holds you tight, supporting you until you finish riding out your high.
“Good girl. Good girl.” He praises you in a hushed, shaky voice, extremely wound up from feeling you flourish so beautifully under his touch. It's a miracle that he didn't empty himself inside you right then and there.
“But you—but you haven’t—” You sputter, collapsing into him as your legs give out.
“I know. It is alright..” He hums, carefully leading you inside the marui to lay you on the bed.
“Thought you were c-cleaning me u-up. Not mak-king m-more of a mess.” Your breath is relentlessly hitching as you watch him hastily remove his tewng that’s been digging into his thighs. A reminder of exactly how quickly things happened.
“You are right.” Ralak tsks, cocking a brow as he stares down at you with a predatory leer. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
Ralak situates himself between your legs, crouching over you, ensuring there’s plenty of space between him and your stomach. His cock presses between your sticky folds as his lips press against your clammy neck. He tastes the faint saltiness of the thin film of sweat on your skin as he drags his lips down your chest—between your breasts.
“Lak…” You whisper, back bowing against the bed.
You’re way too sensitive right now, like an exposed nerve. His eyes snap up and lock with yours, responding to you moaning his name. His tongue darts out, sampling a taste of the spilled milk on your breast. Then his eyes slam shut, tensed brows and scrunched nose telling you that he’s unsure of the flavour in his mouth.
Eyes widening, you’re taken aback by his actions, feelings of shyness and embarrassment creeping back in. Fisting his hair, you pull gently at his head to pry him off your chest, only for him to resist your tugs.
“You shouldn’t have done—why’d you do—” You struggle to find the right words at this moment, flustered and nervous that he’d do that.
But what leaves you even more speechless is when he opens his eyes to reveal dots for pupils, a look you only see when he’s high strung. And then he eagerly takes your nipple into his mouth, latching on and ensuring the suction is airtight. The tip of his tongue flicks at your hardened nipple a few times before he gently suckles at your breast.
A tingling sensation radiates your chest and you feel it in the pit of your stomach. Your breath catches in your throat, a little surprised by his lewd behaviour. And soon, all you can hear are the repeated, muffled gulps of your warm milk flowing down his throat.
“W-What are yo-ou d-doing, my love?” You mewl, squirming underneath him from the strange feeling. He unlatches harshly with an audible pop, leaving your pointed nipple misshapened and exposed.
“Cleaning you.” He huffs quickly as he catches his breath, diving back in to lap up the milk leaking from your other neglected breast. Your head throws back in what is undeniably pleasure now, legs tightening around his waist. You look down in a daze, watching him feast greedily, feeling his hips begin to stammer against you.
“Fuck—I didn’t know this i-is what you meant.” You’re finally calming down from your orgasm now, already feeling your body gearing up to have another. His desperation is pungent. Evident in the way his cock grinds between your soft, slippery folds, scenting your cunt with it.
He pulls off you with yet another pop, his tongue swiping his bottom lip so not to let the bead of milk dripping off of it go to waste. He’s huffing and puffing against you, trailing his wet kisses down your curved stomach as he tucks your legs back. You feel his hot breath against your thighs and your legs tremble in anticipation.
“Kalin, kalin [sweet, sweet].” He mumbles, kissing your pulsing clit. “Oeyä kalin [My sweet].”
“Oh shit.” You let loose the breathy curse when you feel his lips pucker around your over sensitive nub, and squeal when he begins to suck on it too. Your hands fly to his head, grasping at his hair to shove his face further into your cunt. He devours you with exhilaration, lapping at your leaking slit to savour your sweetness.
His cock is aching now. He’s so hard it’s painful. He can’t stop throbbing and his cock strains so hard it’s swollen. He wants to shove himself back inside you— your warmth—and hump at you until his marked you with his essence.
He can’t help but touch himself as he pleasures you. Stroking his cock with every lick of your pussy. Thrusting into his hand when he feels you throb against his tongue. He’s groaning and grunting into your cunt, urgently chasing his own release as he sucks on you for his own pleasure.
Too busy to realise that you’ve been begging him to slow down a bit. That you’re too sensitive. That you feel like you may explode if he continues.
“Ralak! I just came! F-Fuck—” You yank his head away, hurriedly rubbing at your sore pussy.
Ralak pants for air, pulling back into a standing position to reveal that he’s been fucking his hand this entire time. It’s glossy with his precum as it dribbles down his strake. He’s frantically stroking himself, staring brazenly down at your pussy—taking in how it’s flushed and swollen, glistening with his spit and your slick. It’s a delicious sight, tempting him to go in for another taste.
He’s close and you can tell, his hips are stuttering erratically and he’s groaning like a dying man. You sit up slowly, bringing yourself to your knees as you shuffle your way closer to him. Your chest is level to his cock and you cup your full breasts with both hands, pushing them together only inches away from him.
He seems a little confused, unsure of what your next move may be. Fuck, you aren’t even sure of what your next move is. But you’re going with your instinct, pinching your nipples until they begin to leak milk. His brows jump, the sight of that sends his hips stammering into his hand. With each huff and thrust sends his cock a little closer to you, until his swollen cockhead is poking at your breasts.
You shuffle a little closer, moaning softly from watching him get off like this. Then you feel his sticky cock slip in between your breasts, and his hand falls to your shoulders.
Now he’s fucking your tits in a frenzy, his leaking tip prodding at your lips. You stick your tongue out for a taste, allowing his cockhead to slip and slide against it. He’s groaning and moaning, eyes fixed in the sight beneath him. The pressure from his fat cock between your breasts only makes you leak even more, and that’s when he loses it completely.
“Oh, fuck.” He growls, thrusting hard enough to shove his cockhead into your mouth. You feel him throb violently against your tongue, his thick, hot load coating your cheeks until they're full to the brim. He pulls out as soon as he realises what he’s down, immediately reaching for your bedside bucket to spit in.
But you shake your head, glossy eyes staring up at him as you swallow his cum with a singular, loud gulp. His eyes bulge, his hands flying to cup your cheeks as he quickly searches your eyes. You simply smile, using a thumb to swipe the single bead of cum on your chin and pop it into your mouth.
Features softening, he returns the smile, chest heaving wildly as it swells with pride.
——
AAAAAHHHH SPECIAL EP 6 IS HERE CANT WAIT TO READ THIS MASTERPIECE AHHH LOVE YOU ISSY❤️❤️❤️❤️🫶🫶🫶 CANT WAIT TO BALL MY EYES OUT
Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI
Labor of Love - Part I
Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info
🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞
Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!
Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)
Warnings: this shit has zero smut, angst angst angst, did i say angst?, this is so dramatic i'm sorry, expletives, a bit of fluff, pregnancy, cliff hanger, let me know if i forgot anything
Word Count: 8k
Requested: Yes || No
Author’s Note: You are now entering angst town, please buckle your seatbelts and try to enjoy the ride. Jokes aside, GUYS. This chapter…is the most angsty thing I’ve ever written. I’m excited and nervous, and everything in between. There’s a lot going on in this chapter and I just hope to Eywa that I’ve written it in a way that flows and is easy to follow. I’ve had this idea brewing for months, it feels. Now…this shit was over 20,000 words long. That is a personal record and I will not be subjecting you guys to such a monstrosity. Therefore, this is part one of (at the moment) three. I apologise in advance for the cliffhanger, hehe. Also, welcome to my brain, because idk how I came up with this shit.
Synopsis: You didn’t foresee this, Ralak kept you in the dark for the sake of you and your baby’s safety. But now the time has come, it’s all too overwhelming for you to process.
<- Previous -> Next
Ralak never shared more than he needed to when it came to his duties with Tonowari. No matter how much you vowed to keep it confidential. He’s a man of few words, but when it came to his business he kept them fewer.
As much as you knew, his trips inland consisted of hunting and gathering bigger game that most warriors struggled to handle.
There's a few times you can count on one hand that he's come home a little more worn down. Each time you cursed Tonowari under your breath as you helped your mate unwind. You’d insist on knowing what the olo’eyktan had him doing to be so spent and why he had not entirely fulfilled his promise to lighten Ralak of his duties since the mating.
Ralak would be quick to shut you down in the most gentle way despite feeling irritable and sombre. It was always something along the lines of, ‘it keeps you safe, and that is my duty’, and that he’ll ‘discuss it when the time comes’.
It seems the time has come.
Another gloomy night, rain and thunder tear through the sky. These storms are more frequent in this season, as it’s Ewyas way of keeping the balance with the freshwater and seawater ratio for the mangroves.
But tonight it’s torrential. You’re in full bloom, ready to step into your new chapter of motherhood at any moment. The babe sits low in your womb and you’re swollen from what feels like head to toe. The rain isn’t helping with the soreness in your joints.
Ralak is seated next to the crackling firepit, stirring the bubbling stew with one hand and mindlessly rubbing your swollen ankles with the other. Meanwhile you lay snuggled in bed, wrapped comfortably in the thick shawl as you listen to the pitter-patter. It’s peaceful, despite the dull ache in your lower back. Maybe the rain isn’t so bad, after all.
Ta-toom!
The low-pitched sound of the war horn has Ralak's full attention, shredding him of whatever serenity he had in his being. Moving hastily, he stands and darts over to the marui door, slipping into his gear and fixing his largest spear on his back.
The scene unfolding before your eyes is a rare one. You’d only seen him in full gear on the day you first laid eyes on him. The day you arrived here in Awa’atlu. And it brings a sinking feeling to your stomach.
“Ralak… what was that?” You ask nervously.
You watch him aggressively tighten the strap of his tstalsena [knife sheathe; carrier] and chuck a bucket of water in the fire—killing the flame. A precautionary measure. He knows the time has come. He hears your voice but he also hears Tonowari's...
'When the horn sounds… you come. And that…is an order.'
In his head, he’s going through an array of possible responses but there’s simply no time for any of them. Using the frame of the bed to pull yourself up, you slowly come to your feet and waddle towards him.
“Ralak. What is going on?” You ask a little louder, a hand gripping his wrist.
Turning to face you, his hands fly to support your stomach as he looks you deeply in the eyes. Then he kisses you with purpose. Pressing his lips into yours like it would be the last time, forcing himself to pull away to briefly glance down at his unborn.
It catches you by surprise, leaving you looking up at him open mouthed. Now you’re really scared. It feels like he’s being plucked away from your fingers and there’s nothing you can do about it. “Ralak—”
“I will explain when I am back. All of it.” He already sounds out of breath, fixing the shawl over your shoulders. “You stay here. Stay warm. Do not leave. Do not answer to anyone. Understand?”
Your forehead wrinkles as you try to process this all.
Don’t answer to anyone? To whom? Why did he put out the fire? Why is he in full gear? What the fuck is going on right now? He said he’d be back…right?
“Y/n.” He booms your name, yet his tone remains steady and calm. “Understand?”
You nod hurriedly, “Yes. Yes.”
“I will be back soon.” He fixes your shawl a last time before stepping back and bolting through the door.
You follow behind him, keeping the marui flap open to watch him click for his skimwing. He makes the bond and mounts the beast hastily, and is airborne soaring towards the mainland at full tilt.
Befuddled, you waddle back inside, your back slamming into the marui stilt as you huff and puff to catch your breath. You nervously check the stew, and see that it’s almost done. The glowing charcoal should be enough to finish it off, so you opt to leave it covered and fidget with the prrsmung [baby carrier] you've weaving for the past couple days.
Anything to keep you busy.
——
Ralak effortlessly dismounts his tsurak, letting it glide past him in the water as he climbs up to the communal pod. This is a gathering place for important meetings and announcements to the clan. He watches as others assemble under the larger, woven marui, drenched with the water of the sea and sky. It’s clear that this was a signal for the warriors of the clan, from the elite, to the former. The young and the old.
Even Zu’té is present, standing lone far off in the corner.
War horn in hand, the olo’eyktan makes his presence known as he stands on the highest part of the pod. His mate, the tsahìk, stands next to him with her chest high and their children next to her.
Jake and Neytiri, along with Lo’ak and Neteyam, group together behind them at the back of the pod, observing the unfolding scene. The warriors begin to chant, defensively positioned with their tongues on display. They’re all armed and ready to protect their own from whatever the impending threat is. Ralak takes his place next to Tonowari, standing tall and still. He observes the uproar before him, his mask of indifference fixed tightly to his face.
“Mawey. Mawey. [Calm. Calm.]” Ronal speaks loudly over the heavy rain, hands splayed out in front of her.
But it makes no difference.
The uproar is growing even louder than the downpour. It was rare to hear this particular horn. It’s been years, ten, to be exact. And those who know exactly what it means are up in arms. Ralak knew this day would soon come, but he was hoping to Eywa that it would be after the birth of his son. Tonowari lets loose a throaty ‘gwah’, driving the butt of his spear into the ground. The crowd hushes down into a dead silence, acknowledging their leader.
“Warriors of Awa’atlu. I summon you for good reason. Ten years have passed and it is time to meet with the ash people once more.” Tonowari begins, only for the younger warriors to mumble among themselves, some of who are unaware of who the ash people are.
“Tìfnu! [silence!]” Ralak snaps through his teeth, “…the olo’eyktan speaks.” Tonowari nods to Ralak.
“The treaty has ended. We meet with them far inland to discuss the terms of a new treaty.” Tonowari’s eyes bounce among the sea of na’vi. “It will be no easy or short journey. We must make the trek by foot. Tonight.”
A few male na’vi are unable to keep their excitement to a minimum and siren a few calls, smacking their strakes together. Neytiri snakes her arm around Jake's upper bicep, tucked under his wing. Neteyam and Lo’ak listen intently, their heads tilted down as they grip their bows firmly.
“Not all will come. I have chosen a few to be at my side.” Tonowari glances at Ralak, and then the Sullys before continuing, “The rest must stay and protect the clan if needed.”
Ronal interjects, speaking of the ash na’vi and their horrid way of living—from their occasionally cannibalistic diet to their view of Eywa and the balance. She further reminds the people of the treaty, and that its tenets include immunity from their ‘hunting practices’ in exchange for a resource only attainable on the reef. The treaty is valid for a decade and then the terms are subject to negotiation based on the two tribe’s needs. She commences it by announcing the names of those who have been chosen by Tonowari.
“I need you by my side, Ralak.”
It was a direct order, and Ralak knows that. He knows that no matter what he says, the olo’eyktan’s order must be obeyed. But it doesn’t mean he won’t try.
“She is due any day now. You know that.” Ralak speaks crystal clear, stating exactly what his concerns are.
He doesn’t want to leave you alone, especially so heavy and full with his firstborn, who will come at any moment. Every bone in his body is telling him it’s the wrong move. But Tonowari glances at his own wife who is swollen with his fourth child.
“I know. I know, Tak. But we must do what we need. For the people.”
Ralak holds a stare with his superior—his father figure. He’s gritting his teeth to keep himself together, to keep his composure. To keep his thoughts just as his thoughts. The two communicate through facial expressions, and a quick tilt to Tonowari’s head has Ralak looking away in frustration.
It’s final.
“No.” Jake butts in, sharp and quick with his disapproval. “He gave me his word.”
Alas, a moment where father and son in law are in favour of the same thing.
“You have the sky people and we have the ash people. They demand his (Ralak’s) presence. If we fail in this, we will be at war. He comes with us.” Tonowari is stern with his tone, leaving no room for an argument.
“Ma’ Jake.” Neytiri chimes in, fright evident in her voice. She is tired of the war.
As a last resort, Ralak’s gaze shifts over to Zu’té. He knew Zu’té would also be chosen despite his...'retirement'. He was undoubtedly one of the best warriors the clan has ever had, wielding great strength and skill. Zu’té returns the stare, crossing his arms over his chest as he cocks a brow. Their brothership had strengthened after Ralak sought help.
Jake notices this, and shakes his head with his hands on his hips. “Nope. No. Who is that guy anyways?”
“My brother.”
“His brother.”
The two taller na’vi speak at once.
“Since when do you have a—You know what? I don’t care. Okay? You? I trust. Him? Not so much. I’d rather my boys stay with her.” Jake says sternly, glancing at Zu’té. “No offence, bud.”
“Good thing I care not for your opinion, koaktan [old man].”
“Zu’té.” Ralak whispers harshly, throwing a glare at his sibling.
“Look, if you got a problem—”
“What about tuk?” Neytiri cuts her mate short, tugging at his arm to remind him of who is watching their youngest daughter.
“Then they take turns or somethin’, I’m not havin’ one baby girl watched and not the other.”
“Toruk makto.” Tonowari lays a heavy hand on the former olo’eyktan's shoulder, drawing him away to break the tension. “They cannot step foot on our land with the treaty. She will be safe. Trust me…” Their voices drown out from the pounding downpour.
As they go back and forth, Ralak begins to process what Tonowari said.
‘They demand his presence’.
Tonowari had made this meeting the topic of conversation over the past few weeks, preparing him for this. But he never mentioned anything about them demanding his attendance in particular. The last meeting with the ash people happened when Ralak was a very young warrior, long before his iknimaya.
Back then, Tonowari had a different warrior at his side—a different right hand. She was strong and well known for being patient with her students. It was a frequent story at family dinner when Tonowari and Ronal took Ralak under their wing. And as Ralak became Tonowari's right hand man, he was thrusted into enforcing the tenets of the treaty, going inland with Tonowari to uphold the clan's part.
Ralak has only caught a glimpse of them once after delivering the resource to the agreed spot. He had just started these excursions with Tonowari, and his curiosity got the best of him. He looked behind him for just a moment, and caught the sight of a curvy, grey woman hastily gathering and stuffing everything into a satchel of some sort.
Her stripes were a deep, ashy blue, and her skin seemed almost scale-like. She was rid of any bioluminescence, as if the light within her was gone, and her hair was matted with what looked like burgundy clay. Tonowari then seized the back of Ralak’s neck and shoved him along, advising that he never looks.
“It is decided. Neteyam, Lo’ak and Zu’té stay.” Tonowari announces as he and Jake rejoin the group, looking at those who are left—Tonowari, Neytiri and Ralak. “We leave soon, make your arrangements.”
Ralak knew his last few words were directed to him. With that, Ralak strides towards Zu’té. “I know what I am asking of you, Zu’té—”
“I will do this for you.” Zu’té turns to face Ralak, who’s undeniably uneasy and concerned.
“Protect her.”
“You protect her. Get in and get out of there, baby brother.” Zu’té speaks, extending his hand out to Ralak. Ralak nods firmly. He’s right, your safety, along with the rest of the clan’s, depends on how this all plays out.
“Oe irayo si ngaru [I give thanks to you].” Ralak's hand meets Zu’té’s forearm with a smack. They tug back and forth a bit, silently wishing each other luck on their own endeavours before setting off on their skimwings.
They arrive, walking with haste along the beach towards the stairs to Ralak’s marui pod in the pouring rain.
“That’s...interesting.” Zu’té makes a comment about the railings for the stairs.
“She has a hard time without it.” Ralak responds, stopping at the bottom step, coming to the quick realisation that this man will essentially be replacing him for the next few eclipses. “She may need help using them.”
Zu’té nods, understanding what he really means. “Do not fret, brother. I will take care of your mate.”
Ralak releases a shaky breath as they make their way to the patio, finding shelter from the rain.
“Wait here.” Ralak speaks with his back turned, “I must speak with her first.”
——
A torturous hour has passed, and you’ve burned circles into your marui floor from pacing so much. He’s taking longer than you’d expected, and worry is really starting to set in now.
What’s going on? What did that sound mean? Why did he leave in such a rush? With all his gear, too?
You gnaw at the calloused piece of skin on your thumb, keeping a warm comforting hand on your bump to keep your kicking babe calm. Regardless, he continues doing somersaults in your womb.
Fuck it.
You rush towards the marui door where your gear hangs, and fight with the strap of your chest piece to slip it on you. It won’t fasten and it’s simply too tight to fit your body right now, but you continue to grapple with the stupid strap with shaky hands.
“Tanhì.” Ralak’s voice is rough and he sounds winded. “What are you doing?” He rushes over to you and quickly removes the piece off your chest.
“Ralak—oh, thank Eywa.” Your voice is shaky, but thick with relief. “I’m sorry, I just got s-so worried.”
“We must speak. Time is going.” Ralak carefully ushers you over to the bed, and assists you in sitting down, holding your swollen belly along the way. He takes note of his active child, feeling his little kicks and pokes. He comforts his young with a few strokes to your stomach. “Shh-shh, little one. Alright.”
He knows this whole ordeal must be stressing you both, and he’s really regretting not telling you all of this sooner.
“What do you mean?” You ask, urgency thick in your voice.
Ralaks demeanour is nothing short of solemn, tensed jaw and tightened lips. It seems serious, and this man is no person to jest on such matters.
"Ralak...What is happening?"
He takes a moment to reply, his gaze fixed on his hand that still lays firmly on your stomach. He then looks up at you, concern etched into his features. “It is time to speak about… my duties with Tonowari.”
You feel your heart thud against your ribcage, your eyes widen at the words. You’ve been eager to know, but now that he’s telling you, it implies that everything isn’t alright. It implies… the safety of your unborn is compromised. You nod slowly, trying to remain calm for the sake of your son.
“We reef people hold a peace treaty with another clan…” the giant begins, slipping his hand from your stomach to clasp yours tightly. “…the ash people.”
“Ash people?” Your voice is less than a whisper, tiny and croaky.
“They are a horrible people, tanhì. Truly wicked. Kawnglan [malicious; bad hearted]. Much like the sky people.” He shakes his head as he mutters the words, not even wanting to go into any more detail. He didn’t want to taint your innocence. To stress your mind. Especially now that you’re heavy with his child. “The treaty keeps them off this land. It keeps you safe.”
“Kawnglan [malicious; bad hearted].” You repeat through a gasp.
“To them, Eywa is nothing. Tsaheylu [the bond] is for control. Their diet…” Ralak catches himself, bringing his words to a halt.
“Their diet…?” Your bottom lip trembles.
Ralak just shakes his head, taking your other hand with his. “The treaty will soon end. I must go. Tonight.”
“What?!” You shout, wrenching your hands from his grasp to quickly stand up. A shooting pain sears up the side of your stomach, and your hand flies to clutch it. Ralak rushes to steady you.
“Careful, y/n.” He snaps, high strung and tense. “I will be back in a few eclipses.”
“What? No! No, no. It’s too dangerous.” You protest, gripping his wrists to stay standing.
“It is the olo’eyktan’s orders. I must.” He’s quick to respond to you.
This quietens you. Does Tonowari not know that you’re due any day? Or perhaps he doesn’t care. How could he rip your mate away from you at this time? Especially for something so…risky. You feel your fear bubble into something more hot.
Anger.
“Then I’m coming.” You announce, dropping your hands from his wrists to waddle over to your gear once more. Ralak stands in front of you, hands on your stomach to stop you.
“No. You're staying here.” Ralak orders sternly, backing you up to sit back on the bed.
“No. I’m coming. I’m safer with you.” You resist his pushes, trying to stand firm.
“You are heavy with child.” He grits his teeth, giving you another light push, “I cannot protect you there. You—agh—you are safer here.”
Ralak makes the confession, feeling like he’s failing at his duty as your mate. He shouldn’t even be leaving you, not when you're this far along. He should be by your side, tending to your every need.
“What? By myself? What if—what if something happens? What if the baby—” You’re cut short by the sound of Zu’té’s not-so-reserved entrance. He yanks the marui flap to the side, ducking under it and standing tall behind Ralak, by just a couple inches. He, too, is fully equipped with his gear and weapons.
“Brother. I can hear the war party.” Zu’té speaks with haste, keeping his eyes locked onto Ralak.
'Brother?' Your eyes snap back to Ralak, beady and full of tears. “You didn’t.”
It quickly dawns on you that Ralak had planned this out. Made these arrangements in anticipation things went south and he had no say in the matter. To ensure your safety, and the safety of your unborn by going to the greatest length of rekindling a flame that had been extinct for twelve years. Ralak has spoken casually of his brother before, but never in any great detail.
“Y/n. This is Zu’té, my brother. He will keep you safe.” Ralak speaks with shame in his voice, knowing this must be way too overwhelming for you. He hadn’t planned for it to go like this.
Zu’té finally allows his eyes to wander over to you. They widen when they get their first proper look of you, darting all over your body to take in your foreign features.
He caught a glimpse when your family first arrived in Awa’atlu, but never this close. His eyes land on your bulging stomach, lingering a second too long to make even himself a bit uncomfortable. He clears his throat and looks back at Ralak.
You look at Zu’té with anger in your eyes, and then back at Ralak as they begin to swell with hot tears. Zu’té tries to make himself smaller, feeling the thickness of the air now. He backs up into the marui flap, tempted to lift it and walk himself outside to relieve some of the pressure.
“How long did you say this would be f-for? What if I go into labour? Will you really allow another man to deliver our son?”
Zu’té quickly but silently excuses himself from the room, taking a spot on the patio with his arms crossed over his chest, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Oh, Toto. What have you gotten yourself into?’
Angry, you shot the words like an arrow and they pierced your mate’s chest with ease. He grimaces, as if he were actually in pain.
“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I—” You sob the apology, burying your hot face into your hands.
Ralak embraces you, wrapping his large arms around your body, hugging you close and tight. He sways a little with you, humming deep in his chest. “‘ts alright. You’re okay. Take a breath. I know this is frightening.”
He understands—it is not uncommon for a navi pair to remain close during the final weeks of pregnancy. It’s an unconscious mechanism, keeping them together for the birth of their offspring. Ralak feels it just as much as you but in order to truly protect you he must go— another thing that he understands.
“You c-come back to me, o-okay?” Your breath won’t stop hitching. “Come as s-soon as y-you can.”
“I will, I will. ” He coos, pulling back enough to look down at you. “Mawey, tanhì. Strong heart. For our baby.”
You nod, lifting your head to look up at him. He sees the terror in your eyes and his heart breaks with guilt. He gently presses his forehead against yours, slowly stroking your back.
“Nga yawne lu oer, nga yawne lu oer. [I love you, I love you]” He whispers longingly as he closes the distance between your mouths.
“Nga yawne lu oer [I love you]. S-So much.” You sputter, lips trembling against his.
He kisses you with force, pressing his lips into yours until it almost hurts. You both linger there, not wanting to part ways. But you feel him pulling away, knowing there wasn’t much time left. Instinctively, cling onto him when his lips leave yours.
“Please don’t go.” You mumble into his chest, knowing that he has no choice.
“I have to, my tanhì.” He mutters as he begins to pull away before letting go completely.
You follow behind him, thumb in your mouth as you nibble at the skin, hand resting on top of your bump. You watch him call for his tsurak for a second time tonight, and look back at you for a moment. He takes in the sight of you standing next to his older brother, trying to find comfort in knowing that you’re in safe hands. Ralak gives him a nod and mounts the beast, taking off towards the war party.
Leaving you in the presence of Zu’té.
“Y/n, is it?” Zu’té asks, already knowing the answer.
It’s awkward and he doesn’t do well in these types of situations. He knows comfort is what you need right now, considering you’re now sobbing into your hands again. You’re worried sick. Literally. It’s all making you feel woozy and lightheaded.
“Listen...” He goes to rest a hand on your upper back, but he hesitates, leaving his hand to hover. He retracts it completely, allowing it to fall back to his side. He sighs, droopy ears and tensed brows. “He will return soon.”
Among all the emotions that cloud you at once, anger still remains roaring at the forefront. You find yourself turning your heel and ignoring his presence, waddling away as fast as your swollen feet will allow it.
“Leave m-me be.” You spit between hitched breaths, ensuring the flap of the marui door shuts harshly behind you.
Despite feeling sympathy for you, Zu’té stands outside, finding solace in being alone. He chooses the driest spot, and sets himself up on the patio, getting ready for the stormy night ahead.
You waddle in to bed, wrapping yourself in the thick shawl that smells like your mate, and lay next to the prrsmung [baby carrier] you still have yet to finish. Feeling defeated and empty, you lay on your side in bed as you process everything, letting silent tears crash onto your bed.
——
You’re not entirely sure at what point in the night that you drifted to sleep, but you wake up in a groggy state. Dried tears make it hard to open your eyes, and your hair sticks to your face. You look around in a daze and realise that it’s still dark outside.
The pang in your bladder keeps you awake and forces you out of bed, making you wobble to the curtain. You pull it back and are met with the sight of Zu’té sleeping propped up against the marui wall with his spear tucked to his chest.
Seeing him painfully reminds you of the heart wrenching events of last night. That even though you were hoping and praying to Eywa for it all to be a bad dream—it was all very real.
An icy cold breeze gusts by, making you shiver under your shawl and Zu’té shift in his sleep. The rain had eased off into a light, continuous drizzle some time during the night.
Your ears droop with guilt for leaving him out here in the cold, damp night. You let out a sigh and grip the railing to the marui stairs, turning your body sideways to take your first step down. The wood squeaks when it takes your weight, Ralaks usual tell tale sign that you’re sneaking out at night without his help.
It seems to work for Zu’té too because by the time you reach the second step you hear a raspy voice.
“I was told you need help with these.” Zu’té offers his hand. You let out a sigh and take his arm.
You’ll admit, his helping hand is actually helping, especially now that you’re so far along.
“Irayo [thank you].” You mutter, holding on tightly as you make your way to the bottom step. Zu’té leans against the railing, waiting for you to finish your business.
You don’t take long, most trips recently have been false alarms—just the baby pushing on your bladder because he’s so low down. As you make your way back to the stairs, your lower back begins to warm up. It radiates to your upper and inner thighs, making them ache as you walk.
It’s nothing new, aches and pains are becoming more frequent as the days pass, and the cold certainly isn’t helping. Zu’té meets you at the bottom step with an extended elbow, and you take his arm without a second thought.
It starts to rain again, hard. The temperature easily falls by a few degrees and all you want is to be inside the warmth of your bed right now. Your feet move at a quicker pace and as much as Zu’té tries to be gentle as he can, his grip tightens.
“Take your time.” He says, keeping you steady as you reach the top step.
Once you get to the door, he immediately lets go of you, stepping aside to take his spot on the patio for the remainder of the night. You pull back the marui flap but find yourself hesitating to step inside. You look over your shoulder, watching Zu’té tuck his spear close to his chest and prop himself against the wall.
“Zu’té.” You say. He looks at you, brows raised as he listens. “It’s cold out here. You should come—”
“Don’t worry about me.” He cuts you short, closing his eyes.
“I’m not.” Your words are quick and almost defensive.
Zu’té chuckles a bit, if you could even call it that. “Sounds like you are.”
You sigh, getting a little irritated. “Whatever.”
“I’ll be alright out here.” He says nonchalantly, opening his eyes to look directly at you. Your heart skips a beat and you feel the blood drain from your face. You thought Ralak was intimidating, but this guy is something else.
“Sure.” It’s awkward, but a good awkward…if that were a thing. “Night.”
“Wake me if you need me. No more sneaky shit.” He’s muttering now, ready to go back to sleep. “And get some rest.”
You hold back your laugh, a little amused by the stark difference in his personality and Ralaks. How are they brothers? Or related, even?
“Will do, sir.” You match his sarcastic tone, entering the marui and laying down in bed, hoping to Eywa that sleep will find you soon.
——
Village life continues despite Ralak and the others' absence. You wake up earlier than usual, despite the exhausting circumstances. Your baby moves, letting you know he’s awake too.
“Daddy will be home soon.” You reassure your babe, gently rubbing your stomach.
Perhaps you were also reassuring yourself.
You feel empty, and numb. And as much as you want to lay in bed all day and wait for your mates return, you still have a few things left to do before your son’s arrival.
First thing being, getting some food in your system.
You get ready, and walk outside, noticing that Zu’té is no longer in his spot.
He wakes early.
Looking out into the distance, you catch sight of Zu’té crouching next to a small flame, cooking what seems to be squid. It’s hard to be sure of what it is—the sun hasn’t fully bloomed, and though the rain has stopped it’s still a bit gloomy. You make your way over to him, taking extra care when going down the stairs.
“Morning.” You say nonchalantly.
Zu’té’s ears spring up and he looks behind him—behind you—directly at the stairs. His brows lower and he sighs quickly, knowing there’s no point in making the comment. He looks back at his task, turning the slightly charred squid impaled by a sharpened branch.
“You’re up early.” The giant states, back turned to you to reveal his insanely intricate tattoo.
“Same to you.” You respond, staring at his back hard enough to burn holes into it. You see some scarring and thickened skin, presumably from his days as a warrior. That much you knew because of Ralak.
“Squid. Help yourself.” Zu’té says, handing you a stick of burnt squid.
Taking it from him, you hold it in front of your face, a little baffled at how he seemingly saw nothing wrong with it.
“Hm…thanks. Looks…well done.” You try to force a smile, to no avail.
You try to take a seat next to him, struggling to keep your balance as you lower yourself to your knees. His ears lay flat and he instinctively springs to his feet, helping you sit down. He didn’t think you’d join him here.
It’s silent. Uncomfortably silent. And awkward. You keep your extremities close and your tail closer, curled up in on yourself to remain as small as you can. Although, in comparison to your mate's brother, you were tiny.
He’s not taller by much, but still taller nonetheless. It really makes you wonder how their parents looked for them to turn out this way.
Zu’té eats hastily, shovelling the squid in his mouth as if it had the ability to slither away. It makes you look back at your own serving and suddenly your nerves go haywire. You didn’t want to risk getting sick, your bedside bucket is too far away to fetch. But you didn’t want to be rude—he’d obviously woken up early to make this for you.
You take an experimental bite and fight for your life to keep a straight face. You exaggerate a nod and cover your mouth with your hand, hiding the way you're smacking away at this blubbery piece of meat.
“Mm. Mhm.” You grunt, forcing it down and clearing your throat. “It’s—uhm, it’s not—”
“I am no ‘emyu [cooker].” He says, chucking his cleared stick into the fire.
“Ahem—yeah. Yup.” You twirl the stick between your pointer finger and thumb, bringing his attention to your five fingered hand. His eyes widen a bit before quickly looking away, and you tuck them back in between your thighs.
“Thanks for breakfast.”
“Sleep well?”
You both speak at the same time, unintentionally clearing the tension in the air.
“I suppose, all things considered.” You try to speak lightheartedly. “And you? Did any part of you freeze?”
Zu’té laughs and shakes his head. “No, not quite.”
“Well, that’s good.” You say, looking out at sea to witness the sun's emergence. It casts an orange hue over the water, illuminating the ripples of the oncoming waves.
He’s watching it too.
“Your tattoo.” You speak softly, witnessing his ears flutter. “…on your back.”
“Ah. What of it?”
“What does it mean? I mean—” You stutter, still adapting to the idea of inking being a symbolic statement. “What’s the story behind that?”
The story replays in his head—the death of the spirit brothers and family. It flashes before him, as if he were in that moment again. The guilt and pain inside him is eternal, something that’s never left him since. He’s never spoken of it, not even to the person he hurt the most through it all—Ralak.
His ears pin back and his jaw tightens. He shrugs his shoulders and mutters, “Felt like it.”
“So…you’re telling me you did that, for fun?” The surprise is evident in your voice as you look at the tattoo again. His skin is raised and it spans the entirety of his upper back. “That must have been really painful. Ralak did mine and it took days.”
“Didn’t hurt.” Zu’té says, turning his body to you yet keeping his eyes on the sun. But it did. It hurt—a lot. Self inflicted pain, to symbolise the pain he inflicted on others, even if it weren’t his intention.
Maybe they are brothers. You think.
“You going to eat that?” He asks, interrupting your train of thought, pointing at your squid on a stick.
“Uhh—I’m going to pass.” You answer, offering it to him, “…sorry.”
“Again. Not a ‘emyu [cooker]” He takes it gladly, biting off a decent chunk and chewing at it unbothered with a deadpan expression.
Nevermind.
Now the silence isn’t as awkward. You choose to sit here a while longer, enjoying this moment as much as you can before coming back to reality. The reality that there may be a war brewing. That—
Ralak isn’t here.
Well, that didn’t last long.
Sadness washes over you, making your ears droop and your tail heavy. Your baby gives you a sudden, hard kick in the ribs, as if he were telling his mummy to cheer up. You uncross your legs and shift your weight to the one side, getting ready to get up and be productive.
Zu’té seems to take note of that.
“Need to get up?” He asks, chucking yet another stick into the fire.
“I got it.” You grunt, shuffling to your knees.
Zu’té lets out a displeased grumble, understanding what his brother meant when he said you have a stubborn streak. He goes to help you anyways, supporting you by the elbow.
You’re just about standing when you feel a sharp stabbing pain in your back. It makes you jolt and grab onto Zu’té, whose slight irritation instantly turns into concern.
“Y/n.”
“I’m good, I’m good.” You repeat out of breath, steadying yourself before letting go. He seemed unsure if you really were okay. “Really. Happens all the time now.”
Zu’té nods, letting go and giving you a little more space. “Alright.”
——
The meeting spot is no other than the ‘head quarters’ of the ash people. It is only on this occasion that another clan may step foot on their land and walk away with a beating heart. That is, if all goes well. Tonowari is confident, however, knowing that the resource they provide the ash people is sufficient enough to prolong the treaty for many decades to come.
It is an ore that forms deep underwater, and can only be extracted by the most skilled divers. Divers that can hold their breath for up to half an hour. The use of this ore remains unknown to the reef people, but the ash people are quick to seize it almost instantaneously at the drop off point. The ore is plentiful among the reef, renewing itself as it is harvested—the act of the great mother restoring balance as needed.
Truth be told, although the reef people are a peaceful people, it is no secret that they hold some of the strongest warriors on Pandora. They are proud of their home, and will fight to protect it at all costs. Even the ash people know this. Which is the reason for their agreement on something as laughable as a ‘peace’ treaty.
Otherwise, what’s really to stop them from annihilating the reef people and taking the ore themselves?
Ralak meets with the others—Tonowari, Jake, Neytiri, and Ronal. They all set off far inland to the place the two clans met ten years ago. The trek is long and tiresome, leaving Ronal winded and in need of a couple breaks along the way. She is, too, heavy with child, but as tsahìk, she perseveres. Tonowari had tried to convince her several times to stay home, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“We are here.” Tonowari announces as the group nears the settlement of their natural enemy. It’s a rocky environment, much like the reef but with plenty of soil and clay. “Heads straight. Ignore them.”
——
Zu’té stays nearby the marui as he tends to some of Ralak’s duties, keeping an eye on you from afar. You sit comfortably on the bottom step of the marui stairs, concentrating on finishing your baby’s sling. Your fingers are a little swollen, making it more difficult to weave. Frustrated, you plop the sling to your side and bury your face into your hands.
Everything is just too overwhelming right now.
“Your technique is poor.” Zu’té’s voice booms over you.
You look up, seeing this tall man with his hands on his hips tower over you, shading you from the sun. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know that I have plenty of knowledge on—”
“This is a prrsmung [baby carrier], yes?” Zu’té picks up the sling and sits himself next to you, searching for the point in which you left off.
You watch intently, intrigued to know his next move. He carefully unravels all the wefts you’ve managed to do since sitting on this damned step.
“What are you doing? Stop!”
Zu’té sighs and demonstrates a weaving technique you’ve never seen before, entwining and knitting the fabric until it comes together in an even neater fashion. You look at him in awe, dumbstruck that he was able to do that. Ralak dislikes weaving, in fact, he loathes it.
“Try it.” He says, plucking the fabric away from itself to unravel it once more before handing it back to you. You hesitate to take it, caught off guard from his unexpected, skilled movements.
“My fingers are swollen.” You say, feeling defeated and a little embarrassed. He looks down, noticing your five-fingered hand again, not nearly surprised as last time.
“Not as big as mine.” He tries to hand you the sling again. “You got it.”
Reluctantly, you take the sling and slowly mirror his movements, replicating the technique perfectly.
“See?” Zu’té sounds pleased with himself. Looking down at the sling, it dawns on you.
“So, you’re a weaver?” You ask the question as if you had just struck gold. “Usually the women take on that role.”
“Not here, forest girl.” Zu’té defends his role proudly, “But yes, I am.”
“Nice. It is good to see that. My grandmother is a great weaver, she taught me all I know.” You begin.
For as long as your body would allow it, you and Zu’té sat on that step and wove together. You wove the sling and he went to fetch his satchel to work on a piece of his own. Though you did most of the talking, and found yourself dodging one too many snarky remarks, a bond formed on that step.
You told him about your past at hometree, your reason for seeking uturu to begin with.
The sky people.
The words wouldn’t stop flowing, especially when you got onto the topic of how you met his brother. You explained that Ralak was your karyu [teacher] and how that quickly morphed into something much more beautiful. How you broke past his walls—took off his mask of indifference.
But then that awkward silence came again. The silence that reminded you why this stranger was in your home to begin with. That he was playing watchdog because your mate had to leave your side whilst being heavily pregnant.
“I lied.” Zu’té fills the silence. It has your ears perked up and your full attention on him. Your heart picked up speed, almost expecting something bad. “About?”
“That tattoo hurt like a kalweyaveng [son of a bitch].”
His confession has you bellowing out in laughter, clutching your stomach to keep you from shaking up your baby.
“I knew it.” You finally say once you calm down from a much needed laugh. “No good comes from trying to pretend that things don’t hurt, you know.”
Little did you know these words weighed heavy on him. Heavier than you meant for them to. He falls silent, contemplating if he should say what he’s about to. The real confession. The real reason behind the tattoo.
“I killed our spirit brothers.” He blurts out, astonished by his own voice.
Did I really just say that? Shit.
“What?” You exhale, your heart now galloping in your chest.
“It was twelve years ago. I was…seventeen. Sent out to war. I had to keep Ralak out of it. I went alone…lead a group of warriors to protect the tulkun.” His voice seizes up, as if his throat were closing. He looks away, fixing his gaze to his feet. “I was still learning. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. The sky people…they slaughtered them all.”
“Hey, hey. That’s not your fault, Zu’té. You didn’t kill them. The sky people did.” You rest your hand on his back, feeling how raised and toughened the skin where his inking lay deep.
Zu’té just looks at you, eyes trembling with vulnerability. It’s the first someone outside of the family has ever told him that. It’s something that he needed to hear.
“Is that why you fled? Ralak told me you left him.”
Zu’té nods, looking away in shame once more. “I abandoned him.”
You shake your head, knowing now that Ralak has healed and no longer feels this way. “He has healed Zu’té. And now it is your turn.”
Zu’té only nods, allowing the silence to fill the space again. This time it’s needed.
Until it's broken by a familiar voice.
“Sister.” Neteyam greets you at the bottom step, throwing a smile your way, then to your stomach. “Little one.”
He’s checking on you per your fathers request. Of course he wanted to ensure you were okay, too.
“Tey.” You smile big, happy to see such a familiar, comforting face. “I thought you went.”
You reach out for the railing to pull yourself up, and both Neteyam and Zu’té go to help you get up. You side-hug Neteyam, finding comfort in your brother. It’s been a hectic night.
“No, someone’s got to watch Tuk…and you.” Neteyam chuckles. As you let go, your glances at Ralak’s brother. “Neteyam, this is Ralak’s brother. Zu’té.” You introduce the two properly.
Taught manners from a young age, Neteyam gestures ‘I see you’ to the former warrior, and he returns the sign.
“Uncle TeyTey’s got you guys for the day.” Neteyam coos at your tummy, and then offers you his arm.
“Right...Dads orders?” You ask, happy to go with him.
“Dads orders.” Neteyam nods firmly, looking at Zu’té to relay the message. Zu’té returns the nod, being present to hear your fathers concerns about the entire arrangement. Besides, it’ll give him time to hunt for something proper for dinner.
“C’mon guys!” Lo’ak shouts from the ocean, mounted on his skimwing with Tuk behind him.
“See you. Think about what I said.” You say to Zu’té, prompting him to wave goodbye. Neteyam walks you to his tsurak, helping you to get on. You had retired your tsurak for the time being, finding it hard to ride with your back pain.
“Hey Lo’. Tuk-Tuk.” You say with relief in your voice, finding comfort in the company of your family.
——
The ash people are impudent to say the least. They follow behind the five na’vi weaving their way through the growing crowd, right on their tails as they try to get a better look at them. They are particularly interested in Jake and Neytiri, seeing the forest people for the first time. But most haven’t even gotten a look at the reef people yet, despite having the agreement with them for so many decades already.
Some even dare to poke and prod, tugging at their tails and their hair to get a feel or whiff of their scents. Tonowari, Jake, Neytiri and Ralak walk in a formation that allows Ronal to be in the centre, safe guarded from any pointed fingernails or astray noses. Ralak is on edge, but one could never tell by a glance. His appearance is intimidating, a stature so tall he and Tonowari tower over the crowd.
“I do the talking.” Tonowari says discreetly as they near the entrance of the hut.
The room is made of some sort of red clay substance, seemingly burnt to a char until it has been hardened into what feels like rock. This one in particular is large, containing smaller sectioned off rooms, partitioned with thick leather curtains. It's all very bleak, rid of liveliness and colour.
As they enter the hut, two bigger ash na’vi guard the door on either side, blocking and guarding the entrance behind them. Two more ash na’vi lead the group with spears to their backs to a large curtain, and shove them towards it with a few harsh jabs to Jake’s and Ralak’s spines. Jake snaps around, throwing them a dirty look. Whilst Ralak keeps his gaze fixed to his feet. He feels deep in his gut that something isn’t right.
Whether it be here, or back home.
With each step he takes, the sense of impending doom only worsens. He has no desire to be here but he recognizes that this is what is necessary. Yet, he can’t help the way he feels. And when he finally raises his head all the pieces link together. It all makes sense.
Before them are five na’vi in total. Two women and three men. Four ash na’vi and one…reef na’vi. A female, reef na’vi. Her face is unmistakable—unforgettable. It’s been seared into his mind since he was a young boy.
And when Ralak sees it, he almost caves in on himself. His mask of indifference—of intimidation, cracks. Hell, it shatters. Into thousands of pieces, scattered at his feet. Tonowari’s previous right hand. The banished.
His karyu.
Just finished reading it and I AM SOBBING😭😭😭😭 girl I was pushing and idk why, THIS IS LITERALLY INDEED A MASTERPIECE, This is so good it should be advertised😭 and should be on the billboard😭😭
Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI
Labor of Love - Part III
Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info
🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞
Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!
Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)
Warnings: zero smut, explicit childbirth, water birth, difficult labour, contractions, amniotic fluid, breastfeeding, family fluff, expletives, this is a bit angsty but there’s a happy ending
Word Count: 7.3k
Requested: Yes || No
Author’s Note: the following depicts a very detailed, difficult, and medically inaccurate birth. This is graphic. I am quite literally going to simulate a birthing experience in your pov and I strongly suggest opting out now if anything pregnancy or birth related could make you uncomfortable. Finally, this is most definitely not medical advice, nor should this be used as a reference for what to expect during birth. This is a fanfiction about blue aliens, after all. With that being said, let’s welcome Ralak into fatherhood!! Enjoy 😊
Synopsis: Things were moving too fast until they weren't moving fast enough. The time has come and you're starting to doubt your capabilities. But thankfully your mate is here to guide you through this.
<- Previous
“Okay, Toto. Just do it. Go in there.” Zu’té sounds breathless as he speaks to himself, turning around to face the door. He hears your whimper and his jaw tightens. “Shit. Okay. Right.” Just as he raises his hand to pull back the curtain, he hears a winded voice. “Brother.”
Zu’té spins around to face the voice of an angel—Ralak.
“Oh, thank Eywa. Thank you great mother. Thank you.” Zu’té chants in relief despites being one of the least spiritual persons someone can meet. He knew deep down that Eywa answered his call.
Zu’té makes eye contact with the dishevelled and worn out giant. His attention is immediately drawn to the lengthy gash on his shoulder that seems to have been stitched up in a haste.
“Ay’ana.” Ralak growls when he sees him staring.
The colour drains from Zu’té ‘s face, but before he can respond, Ralak’s ears perk up when they hear what seems to be a low whimpering. It sounds as if you're straining and struggling to breathe. His eyes dart behind Zu’té and then quickly snap back to his brother, filled with panic.
Zu’té just barely shakes his head, urging himself to focus on the most important thing right now.
“Your mate is in labour, tak.”
Ralak’s eyes widen at the confirmation. He knew it. He felt it back inland.
Without another passing second, Ralak pushes past Zu’té and enters his marui. You hear the faint flap of the door and try to shift yourself in order to keep some level of decency.
“I said to leave.” You’re breathless, gripping relentlessly onto the wooden stilt.
Ralak’s frozen in place, taking in the sight of you labouring by yourself. One that no matter how painful, is a sight he has always longed to see. A sense of pride fills his chest, his mate is showing such great strength that it’s admirable. Bringing life to his child is something he will eternally be grateful for.
But then he sees your fingernails. How they've gone dull from all your gripping and scraping, and his sense of pride quickly mixes with shame. Shame that he has left you alone in this.
Your laboured breathing is audible, practically wheezing as you struggle to breathe through the last lap of this contraction. You keep holding your breath and it’s more than evident from the red tinge in your face. Breathing is no longer the thing that you’re most focused on anymore, it’s the pressure between your legs.
He doesn't want to startle you but he can’t just watch you suffer any longer. He approaches you cautiously, examining you in attempts to discern how far into your labour you are.
You're glazed in a layer of sweat, glimmering in the faint light of the first sliver of sun. Your shoulders rise and fall rapidly as you pant faster than a viperwolf pup, and your belly is low and firm as it tightens from the contraction.
Ears laid flat to your skull and brows tightened, you curl over and clutch your stomach. He releases his clenched jaw and lessens the distance between the two of you. He gently places his hands on your lower back, pressing into you with the ball of his palm.
The warmth alone provides a bit of relief for you, allowing you to momentarily catch your breath.
“Zu’té.” You hiss under your breath, surprised he’s even come in, much less laid a hand on you.
You let go of the marui stilt to swat away his hand with a loud smack. The reminder of you labouring in the presence of another man that isn’t him makes him wince.
“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak husks quietly, using his thumbs to rub circles into your back. Your ears lift from your skull and perk up when you realise it’s your mate, back home from the excursion.
Tears overflow and spill down your cheeks. Tears of pain. Tears of exhaustion. Tears of relief.
“Ralak.” You let out a nasally sob, unable to look at him just yet due to the contraction still rippling through you. You speak between your moans, voice cracking.
“You’re back. You’re here. It’s happening, lak. He’s coming. And I—I thought you’d miss it. I thought you weren’t coming back. I thought… I thought—”
“Alright, alright. I am right here with you, tanhì. Mawey, mawey [calm, calm].” He hums steadily, already reaching behind him for his kuru. “How long have you been in labour?”
“D-Don’t know.” Your breath catches in your throat and your knees begin to tremble. “Too l-long.”
Ralak’s heart throbs in his chest at the thought of you enduring this on your own for that long. The contraction is finally subsiding, and you're eager to find relief in your mate. You exhale shakily and grip his wrist as you try to straighten your spine.
“Easy.” Ralak is quick to help you to your feet, holding you by your hip and arm. “Can you stand?”
You nod your head as you slump back into him regardless. “It’s happening, ‘lak.” You wheeze, resting your head on his chest. Despite the slight sting, Ralak smiles, joyful to know his son will soon be born.
“It is, my tanhì.” Ralak hums, swaying side to side with you against his body as he brings his glowing tendrils towards the end of your braid. He’s spent but he knows the exhaustion he feels is nothing in comparison to yours. “I am so sorry I have left you alone in this.”
“‘ts not your fault, my love.” You murmur, lulling your head against his chest. “...not your fault.”
Though your contraction has passed, the pressure in your pelvis has a steady, constant groan vibrating in your throat. It’s a feeling that won’t let up, and the further you progress the more intense it gets. It feels like your body’s at its limit, unable to accommodate your babe any longer.
“Mmmn—tsaheylu, please.” Your plea is drawn out and low, unaware that he’s already one step ahead of you.
When he makes the bond, the pressure is instantly lightened but is quickly replaced with a sharp pain in your shoulder and back. He sucks in a sharp breath and grimaces from the sudden pain and pressure that flows into him.
You gasp and clutch your left shoulder, whipping your head around to look behind you. Immediately, you catch sight of his wound.
Fresh blood spurts out between the ragged stitches and globbed over herbal concoction, dribbling down his chest and back in thin streams.
“Shit.” You curse, ripping your queue away from him, abruptly severing the bond—causing the pressure to come back tenfold. “Fuck—you’re injured.”
“I am fine.” Ralak insists, reaching for your kuru again.
“Tsaheylu will infect it.” You insist, keeping your kuru away from him.
“Ke tare [it doesn’t matter].” He says sharply, catching his tone and softening it. “Allow me, please.”
Ralak reaches for your kuru again, eager to make it up to you—to take the pain for whatever time you have left. But you shake your head firmly.
The fact that making tsaheylu caused it to rupture and bleed, a gash that size will surely worsen with the influence of your labour. Ralak respects your wish, although he’s in disagreement with it. He’d never make the bond without your consent and he feels as if he’s already missed too much of your labour to continue the argument.
“…what happened?” You ask shakily, terrified to know the answer. “Wh-What did they do to you?” You feel yourself begin to tear up.
Seeing him so hurt always made your heart heavy.
Your question catches him off guard, bringing him back to the moment he saw his own karyu. He swallows, having trouble keeping his calm and figuring out what to say. He has no intention of keeping it from you, but truthfully it isn’t the right time to speak of such matters. Not when you’re nearing the peak of the birth of your firstborn.
“Not now. You are labouring.” Ralak says sternly yet gently, reshifting his focus and concern back to you.
And if it weren’t for the unbearable heavy sensation in between your legs you would’ve protested. You nod lazily as your breath hitches repeatedly, your hand finding its way to the lowest part of your abdomen to press into it. Your lengthy groans start up again, you can feel your entire body begin to tense up.
“Another? So soon?” Ralak’s voice falters, concern now evident in his tone. He steadies himself behind you, pressing his hands into your lower back once more.
“Pressure. ‘ts too much.” You pant, leaning forward and using your free hand on the marui stilt for support.
“Pressure?” Ralak tries his best to understand what you mean. Thinking that he’s pressing too hard into your back, he eases up and apologises. You shake your head and quickly replace your hand onto the lowest part of your abdomen with his.
“Pressure!” You yelp the word like a plea for help, hoping he’ll get it without you needing to explain. Talking is becoming more difficult with each passing contraction. When he does finally understand, his eyes widen and brow bones jump.
“Ah—he is moving down, tanhì.” Ralak tries to speak calmly, sliding his other hand over your stomach. His fingers smooth over your skin, taking in its heat and supple texture. He then feels it tighten even more, contracting right under the pads of his digits.
“Tewti [whoa].”
It’s the first he’s ever felt a contraction, despite being a mandated witness to numerous first breath rituals in the clan. He begins counting under his breath, trying to gauge your progression by determining how long they’re lasting. But before he can get into the double digits your low grumble turns into a high pitched cry.
Ralaks ears immediately go flat, hearing a cry like that rip from your throat makes his heart tighten in his chest. He shuffles closer to you upon realising that you're curling over from the pain. Moving quickly, he supports your body weight with one hand to your belly and another over your chest.
“Ralak!” You cry out, “Please! Do something!”
With that, Ralak’s hands slip back down to your lower abdomen, cupping your belly and gently pull upward. This always helped if the baby was sitting too low, relieving some of the heaviness and pressure on your bladder.
Instantaneously, the pressure relieves. Your cry dissipates into a loud sigh, your downturned lips flipping up into a small smile of relief.
“Thank you—” Pop. “—ugh” Gush.
You’re silent, but your face screws into a grimace as the pain rushes back in with a vengeance. You look down in a painful daze, feeling the trickle of liquid down your thighs and legs. Through blurred vision, you watch as a pool forms at your feet, as well as Ralaks.
“Shit.” Ralak mutters under his breath, recognizing what’s just happened.
His head whips around to the sound of the flap of the marui door. He looks behind him, met with the panicked, bulging eyes of Zu’té, who’s staring intently at the scene unfolding before him. He's just worked up enough courage to enter the room.
Zu’té finally makes eye contact with Ralak, and Ralak nudges his chin in the direction of the village, mouthing—‘Get a healer’. Zu’té nods and takes off at full tilt.
“…fuck‘m sorry. My waters...” You mumble, fingers digging into his arms in attempts to keep you standing, to no avail.
Your knees buckle beneath you, and you lose all ability to keep yourself on your feet. Ralak supports you, moving down with you rather than trying to keep you standing. He slowly and gently lowers you to the floor, away from the growing puddle.
“What for? Your water breaking? No need to be.” Ralak chuckles breathily, trying to make it obvious that it’s no big deal—he’s unbothered by it.
“Me-messed you up.” You grunt, breath straining as you lean all your weight back into him.
“You did no such thing.” He reassures you through a quick breath, adjusting you into a more comfortable position.
You lay on top of him, shifting onto your side and off the sharp throb in your lower back. You clutch his bicep with one hand and keep the other snug under your bump.
He’s more so in an awkward position than not, his back now against the base of the bed and his right leg propped up to keep you from rolling back. He has no issue staying put in this position if it means some sort of relief for you.
But your groans only deepen, lengthening and ending with small grunts.
“You alright, mama?” He checks in on you through a whisper, knowing that things move quickly once the water breaks.
You nod your head, trying to be strong, but he can see right through it. And you know it. You sputter out a sob and shake your head, finally admitting the truth—finally facing reality.
“I know, I know, tìyawn. Almost there.”
Even without tsaheylu, he is able to tell how long you have left just based on your sounds and body language. With each little grunt he notices that your face shifts to a brighter shade of pink.
He takes note of your tail, and how it’s now tightly coiled, tucked to the base of your tailbone—out the way. Your shoulders are bowed and your stomach sits low, hard as a rock.
“Oh!—Eywa, ple-ase.” You mumble a plea, eyes squeezing shut when you come to the height of your contraction. “Mmm’fuck—fuck.”
“A little longer.” He places a firm, comforting kiss on the temple of your head. “It will soon be over.”
You feel Ralak’s hand firmly patting your lower back, attempting to put the fire out. But now the pressure’s released, the pain is only more intense—spreading and morphing into a new feeling altogether.
“Ralak—Ralak!” You panic, your head rolling side to side as you strive against this new sensation.
“Right here with you.” He hums, pressing hard into your lower back with the ball of his palm. “What do you need?”
You begin frantically tugging at your soaked loincloth, trying your hardest to get it off of you. Ralak quickly takes over, untethering the knot and slipping it off you.
“Need to—aahaa! I think he’s—haah—he’s—he’s coming!” You yell, unable to fight the new feeling. An urge you’ve never felt before. The urge to push. “Ralak—I’m scared!”
“Listen to your body.” Your mate encourages you with a steady and calm voice.
His gaze snaps down to witness your leg rising into the air and your hand hooking under the back of your knee. His hand cups over yours, helping you support the weight of your suspended leg.
Ralak manoeuvres himself in a way that allows him to support you and see what’s happening. He gently tugs your leg back a little further, having a proper look. He can see just how swollen and tender the flesh between your legs is—ripe and ready. It’s time.
“Muntxate [wife]. Bear down if you need to.”
“I—I—urgh!” You cry out, finally giving into the urge to push, allowing your body to bear down in the way it’s been trying to. Holding your breath, you tuck your chin to your chest and sink your fingernails into Ralak’s bicep, pushing as best as you can in this position.
“Good, good. Good push, tanhì.” His voice is hushed but steady as he watches in awe as your body flourishes. “Syeha si [breathe].”
As the urge subsides, you release your breath and gasp for air a few times. If he’s really coming, you don’t want it to be here. You had both discussed doing this in the comfort of your own lake. The lake in the cave, where your relationship with him had blossomed to begin with.
“Not here.” You say out of breath, legs shaking terribly.
Ralak leans in closer to you, listening carefully to decipher your murmurs. You keep your eyes closed shut, unable to open them anyway. They feel as heavy as you do, weighed down with exhaustion and agony.
But as you feel your stomach tighten and the urge rush back in, you realise that time lessening. “Water—get me in the water, please!”
Ralak hesitates, scanning your body to see if moving you in this state is the right thing to do. He watches as you tense up in agony as you contract, and quickly the realisation dawns upon him, too. At this rate, the babe will be here at any moment.
And if your wishes are to give birth in the water, now is the time to fulfil them.
Ralak scoops you up into his firm clutch, rises to his feet, and rushes out the door. Taking his time down the steps, your grip around his neck tightens just as a groan rumbles in your chest. Your legs squirm in his grasp as they try to snap open.
“Hurry! He’s coming!” You grunt, burying your face into the crease of his peck, biting down to fight the feeling.
Ralak glances down at you a few times, brows gathered from the worry that plagues his heart. He’s holding you tight, so as not to let the wiggle of your body loosen his grip.
“Here.” He huffs out, nearing the entrance of the cave.
Immediately immersing himself hip-deep into the water, he moves hastily, submerging you as he makes his way over to the ledge and helps you into position.
The ledge makes a smaller, more shallow pool in the lake, perfect for you to sit in with your back supported by the bank.
Water is up to your chest, slushing and splashing against your neck as you desperately readjust yourself to get comfortable. Your head is perched on the bank of the lake, hands spread across to hold onto the rocky surface. Your toes grip the floor, rooting yourself to the ground to keep you stable, knees bobbing at the water's surface.
“Fuck! Ralak!” You cry out, feeling your body act on its own accord.
Ralak is already in front of you, one hand on your bump as the other slips between your thighs to feel your progression. All while he’s looking down at you with nothing but concern etched into his features, unsure of what more he can do for you without tsaheylu.
He witnesses your face turn red as you hold your breath again, using as much force as you can to push him out.
Ralaks hand moves from your bump to cup your cheek, his fingernails raking away the streaks of sweaty hair plastered to your face and tucking them behind your ear.
“Syeha si, tanhì [breathe].” He reminds you gently, exaggerating a breathing pattern you had rehearsed a few weeks ago, and you try to match his rhythm.
But you’re stuttering and sobbing, unable to establish a pattern and push at the same time. Your back is on fire and it feels as if the baby isn’t moving any further down.
The contraction finally ends with a loud wheeze and your head slumps back into the rocky bank. You shake your head as you struggle to open your heavy lidded eyes.
Your vision is blurry and spotty. You glance down in a haze and lock eyes for a moment with the worried giant before you, and then you feel yet another contraction wash over you. They are on top of one another—back to back—with little to no break between them.
“Fuck. Please. Please. Plea—” You weep weakly, eyes slamming shut as your chin makes contact with your chest, cutting off your pleas with a lengthy, guttural grunt. You push with what you have left, giving yourself a throbbing headache as a result.
“Pushing so, so well.” Ralak praises you with a hushed voice, feeling something press against his fingers.
As you strain, you feel the delirium set in. The panic of not knowing if you’re capable of doing this. Every inch of you more than ached, yet some parts of you have even gone numb from how long this has been going on.
You can barely get a proper breath in much less breathe the way you should when you’re pushing. You feel like your body may give out at any moment.
“Keep going, y/n.” He encourages you, seeing your exhaustion and feeling you stop.
“Ralak…lak.” You let out a sob and try to relax your body, but end up collapsing back into the rocky surface again. “‘m tired, lak.” You mumble shakily between laboured pants, “...want him out.”
“I hear you.” Ralak tries to reassure you, now supporting both your trembling legs as they threaten to give out. “He will soon be out, tanhì. But you have to keep going.”
“No—oh, no, no.” You cry, tensing up from another agonising contraction. You didn’t think they could get any more painful. “No more. No more, please.”
“Come now, big push for me.” Ralak instructs softly, repositioning himself to help deliver his son.
“Ugh—!” You scream, giving all you have left into this push. Beads of sweat roll down your temples at a concerning speed, and your face shifts to an even more vibrant shade of red. “Please! Please get him out of me!”
“He’s coming out, tìyawn. Keep pushing, almost there. Almost there.” Ralaks voice is low and laced with panic, despite his greatest efforts to keep calm and collected.
This cycle repeats for some time, instilling worry into both you and Ralak. You’re having a difficult time, and it’s taxing on your body to keep this going.
Truthfully he can tell that you’re really struggling, and he’s getting a little more worried as time passes. But then he feels the baby press against his fingers and hope fills him once more.
“That’s it. Push just like that, y/n.”
“Fuck—” And just as last time, you collapse back into the bank, depleted with nothing left to give. You begin to think that maybe everything you’ve been hearing was right.
Maybe you can’t do this.
“I…I can’t.” You sputter defeated, letting your legs go limp either side of you.
“Mawey [calm]. You can. Your body is made for this.” He reaffirms for not only you but also himself, he’s too afraid to lose you. No, he can’t lose you, too. He’s experienced too much loss.
“’s not comin’.” You shake your head lethargically, feeling faint. “He’s stuck.”
Hearing that makes his heart sink. Ronal’s words echo in his mind, putting him in a frantic state. He quickly composes himself, probing the tender flesh to help stretch it out. He feels something slimy and silken, and his ears perk up.
He’s right there. So close.
“He’s not. I feel him, he is right there.” Ralak tries to keep calm for you, attempting to reassure you as he quickly thinks about the next best move.
Zu’té isn’t back with the healer and there's not much else he can do. He looks down at you, taking in just how uncomfortable you look as he tries to imagine just how much pain you’re in. With a position like this, no wonder your back hurts. His eyes widen.
No wonder your progression has stalled.
“Move with me. Easy.” Ralak croons, carefully tucking his arm under your back to sit you up slowly. He throws your limp arms around his neck, and brings you to your knees and then your feet—supporting your weight as you get there.
“Lak, Lak!” You grimace and whimper as you try to work with your mate—your body is already so sore and weak that any movement is torturous.
“Need to get you off your back.” Ralak huffs, holding you in position until you’ve adjusted. You hold on to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you settle into a squat. “A few more pushes, mama.”
“Haa—no, no.” You squeal in desperation, feeling his head descend even further down now that gravity has come into play.
Then your belly stiffens.
You bite the flesh of your cheek until you taste blood and bury your face into the dip of his collarbone—refusing the urge to push. But the instinct overrides you completely, leaving you in a panicked and delirious state.
“Take h-him out! Make the cut!”
“No, no cut. No cut.” Ralak utters a throaty whisper, pushing down into your lower back. “Bear down, muntxate [wife].”
“Ple—ase.” Your broken plea comes out as a low grunt as you shake your head frantically, driving your dulled nails into your mate. “It hurts, it hurts!”
“I know, ma’ y/n. But you must bear down, please.” His voice trembles, filled with worry, but his words are firm—non-negotiable. You continue to shake your head, fighting with what you have left, your laboured breathing deepening as you run out of strength to resist.
Ralak’s worry quickly turns into pure panic. Panic that you’ve really given up. Panic that you really may not make it out of this. That…he’ll lose you. He knows what he must do, despite it being against your wishes.
He gives your kuru a quick stroke, his way of warning you. It sends a shiver through you, but the pain is so excruciating that you can’t resist this, too.
Ralak quickly makes tsaheylu, bringing a brief moment of pure, instant relief, just enough to bring you out of your delirium. His wound reopens, burning and weeping. But not even that could prepare him for your pain.
It feels like each vertebrae in his spine instantaneously shifts out of place. It is excruciating. And strange—that urge to push. He can feel it too. It’s like an itch deep under your skin. Irresistible and uncontrollable.
“Push!” Ralak groans loudly, prompting you to bear down with whatever strength you can muster up.
You scream at the top of your lungs, achieving a frequency and volume so high it can be heard from the village. Ralak’s fingers quickly probe the tenderness between your legs to check your progress once more. Finally, he feels the baby’s head begin to emerge.
“Perfect push, tanhì. Keep going, keep going.” Now he’s winded, flustered and speaking breathily.
Your scream is cut off by your vulgar tongue, “Fuck! Fuck—it burns!” You cry out, feeling a bolt of white hot fire split you in two, making you jerk back. “It’s burning!” You sob, trying to wiggle away from the flame.
“He’s crowning. His head, shit—” He huffs, realising that the babe is coming too quickly, not giving you enough time to adjust, “Stop pushing.” His fingers probe the taut skin in attempts to prevent you from possibly tearing, “Breathe him out. Just as we practised.”
Your fingers dig even deeper into him as your head snaps up to shoot him a deadly glare. Wasn’t he just demanding that you push? To ‘listen to your body’?
You take deep, intentional breaths, eyes flicking down to search the cloudy water as you try your hardest to resist. He can feel your frustration through tshayelu, he can hear your thoughts.
“Syeha si, syeha si [Breathe, breathe]. Let yourself adjust. Let your body push for you.” Ralak tries to explain, using the bond to his advantage and using the bond to his advantage.
‘I can’t do it.’ You think to him, unsure if you’re even doing it right.
“You can. You are. Just like that.” Ralak works with you, probing the tender skin once more as he feels the head emerge. “A little longer.”
But yet, you feel yourself giving in.
“Can't. Help. It.” You whimper, your breath stuttering as it catches in your throat. Tears roll relentlessly down your cheeks. You need him out.
Now.
You drop to your knees and tuck your chin to your chest. “Haah!” Your breath finally releases, and a guttural, lengthy grunt follows after.
Ralak feels you push — hard. He readies himself, steadying his stance as he traces his fingers around the circumference of his unborn’s head to help guide him out.
He is, too, looking down into the murky water, trying his best to see what’s going on. All he can do is rely on his sense of touch and the feeling through the bond to help him.
“Ngh—ugh!” You feel a pop between your legs and the pressure minutely releases.
Just then Ralak feels the rest of your baby’s head emerge. He can feel the curls of his silken hair, and how they’re laid flat to his skull. Ralak nearly breaks down right there, but fights the array of emotions bombarding him all at once to recenter his focus back on you.
“His head is out.” He croaks, supporting the babe's head with the palm of his hand. “Hair like yours.”
Ralak gently unlatches your grip on his shoulder and guides your hand under the water and towards his. Aside from wanting you to feel what he’s feeling, he’s hoping that this will give you the strength to keep going.
You feel the sliminess first, and then the soft, velvety texture of your son's head. You weep, slumping your head into Ralak's chest as you focus on gathering as much energy during the small break from the contractions.
It’s incredible to know that your body created this life.
“Oh god…it’s him.” You barely whisper.
“You are so strong, you know that? Mighty.” Ralak hums, cupping the back of your head with his hand. You lift your head to look at him and he rests his forehead against yours, searching your eyes with his. “One more push for me, okay?”
You nod your head, bottom lip curled over to touch your chin. His hand slips from your neck to your cheek, his thumb wiping away one tear of a thousand. The tightening of your stomach has you tensing up, gripping onto him for support. You groan and moan until the contraction reaches its peak, where you begin to grunt and push against the budding pressure.
He steadies himself once more, quickly slipping his hand off your cheek back into the water. He holds your son's head with one hand, and hooks the fingers of his other hand under his son's left shoulder. It pops out with the help of his gentle tug, and you bear down even harder.
“A little more.” He encourages you, waiting patiently to feel his son's right shoulder emerge. He feels the bridge of his shoulder and Ralak jumps into action, carefully guiding his son's shoulder out. “Perfect, there it is.” Ralak mumbles quickly, hyperfocused on ensuring a safe delivery.
You whimper when the burning sensation comes back, shoving your forehead into his chest. It’s hard to breathe. Every fibre in your being has you wanting to hold your breath for more leverage to get him out. Your noises fade to little choked muffles, quick and uneven.
“Breathe.” Ralak chokes out, feeling your burning lungs through tsaheylu. He immediately establishes a somewhat steady breathing pattern for you to sync into.
“Pwah!” You let out a shaky, harsh breath of air, panting as you try to sync with him. “Urgh—ah!” you groan as you push, surprised by how long this torturous contraction is lasting.
“Please get him out of me, please, please.” You whisper into his chest.
“Shoulders are out, tanhì” Ralak huffs next to your ear, tenderly rubbing his cheek against your temple.
“Catch him, Lak.” You wheeze, your legs shaking uncontrollably from carrying your weight for such a long time. He wants so badly to do the rest for you, now really sensing your weariness through the bond. But he couldn’t, all he could do was support you through every second of this.
“I have him, muntxate [wife].” He whispers, lips pressed to your ear. “Last push.”
A hoarse, empty cry evades your trembling lips as you bear down a final time. Suddenly the pressure releases entirely, and you feel your son slip out of you and into Ralaks hands. You let out a loud moan of relief, immediately pulling away from Ralak’s chest to look down into the water.
“He’s out. He’s here, tanhì. You did it, mama. You did it.” Ralaks cracked voice is full of relief. “He—he is so small.”
You fall back onto your behind, breaking tsaheylu with your mate. Your eyes search for your newborn but you can’t make anything out of the murkiness of the water.
You look up to witness tears fill Ralak’s eyes for the first time as he holds the baby underneath the water. Your back hits the rocky bank of the lake in solace knowing your son is in safe hands.
Then Ralak grits his teeth and lets go.
“Lak. Ralak.” Your panicked, hoarse voice calls for him, but you’re too weak to get up. “Ho-Hold him, Ralak.”
Ralak looks like he’s fighting his own instinct to scoop up his young and cradle him in his chest. And that’s because he is. It’s taking everything in him not to do just that, but he knows that this is the way. The right way.
“Mawey [calm]. First breath.” Ralak gently reminds you of the Metkayina ritual. He knows he must do this, especially in the absence of the Tsahik. “Let him swim.”
You watch intently as the water slowly clears, revealing the wiggle of your newborn's body. “Help him.” You plead with trembling lungs, having a hard time watching this unfold.
Ralak stays close to his newborn, ready to jump into action in an instant. But the babe rises to the top all on his own—swimming directly from the womb. You burst into tears, chest swelling with pride and every emotion under the moon.
Nonetheless, Ralak taps his bum softly, his other hand hovering underneath his son's feet in the case he needs to intervene. This is the first moment where your son has made you both proud.
Your son breaks the water with his face, chubby cheeks and puckered lips. You hear the sound of his little, first breath — pwah. His eyes open as he looks around, catching sight of his father scooping him into his arms.
“You did it, my little one.” Ralak whispers with a crack in his voice, shifting his gaze over to you. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.” He repeats in absolute shock and awe, and this time you know he’s talking to you, too.
Ralak holds his son close to his chest and away from his weeping wound, using his body heat to keep him warm as he makes his way over to you. The babe wails when he catches your scent, squirming in his fathers arms as if he were trying to get to you on his own terms.
“She is right here, son.” He whispers, bouncing him a bit as he places him in your arms, helping you hold him for the first time. “Hold his head.”
Your arms feel like jelly and they won’t stop shaking, but you’re eager to hold your newborn. Ralak tucks himself closely at your side, keeping a precautionary hand under your arm. Immediately, he calms, gurgling and cooing as he listens to the familiar and comforting thump of your heart. It’s all he’s heard in the past ten months.
Teary eyed, you look down through blurred vision, taking in the sight of your son. Every feature. Every stripe. Every freckle. His dark turquoise skin, golden eyes, pointed pink ears. A tail like his father, but five fingered, like his mother. He is the perfect mix, the perfect balance.
“You’re perfect.” You whisper, admiring his little coos and floppy, soft ears that lay flat against him. His head turns towards your bosom, puckered lips brushing against your top in search of your nipple. “Hungry? Hm?” You hum shakily.
Ralak is quick to help you, helping you position him just right. Your son shakes his head as he tries to latch for the first time, and both you and Ralak watch quietly with wobbly smiles plastered on your faces.
With two fingers, Ralak presses down onto your breast, angling your nipple in a way that makes it easier for you and him. You can’t help the grimace on your face when he does latch and suckle, but it quickly turns into a smile as you watch him feed for the first time.
“Rak’äni.” Ralak proudly announces the name of his first born son.
You look up at him, witnessing a tear or two roll down his cheek. You’d never seen this giant cry like this before. The past two days have been too much.
“Rak’äni.” You repeat with a smile, Ralaks eyes finally meeting yours. He leans in and meets your lips with his, kissing you tenderly. He lingers there forehead to forehead as he pulls away, allowing himself to be vulnerable—to soak in his emotions.
“I love you. I see you, y/n. For life. And beyond.” Ralak sheds a few more tears as he speaks the words.
“Nìt’iluke [neverendingly; forever].” You say wearily, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open.
Snap.
Ralak hears the sound of a branch breaking underneath the weight of a person's foot. Ralak looks behind him, hand under the water clutching the dagger on his hip, ready to protect his family. He sees the silhouette of a woman standing at the opening of the cave, basket on her hip as the last rays of sun shine through her.
The first eclipse is starting.
Is that how long this has gone on for?
His heart skips a beat as his eyes narrow to see who it is…to see if it’s how he suspects it may be. Did she really follow us?
He then sees a taller figure emerge behind her, then another, and another…and another. And soon he counts seven heads in total and it dawns on him.
It’s your family—and his.
“We have visitors, little one.” Ralak coos quietly at his baby, his thumb just barely gliding over his cheek. “Are you alright, mama?” His voice sounds muffled and distant, as if he were at the other side of the lake. “The healer is here.”
“Tired...Hurts.” You mumble, letting your eyes fall shut.
You feel Ralak’s gentle touch as he tucks himself behind you, supporting you with his body. His arm is under yours, keeping the babe safely above water as he feeds. You can fully relax your body now, sinking into your mate’s pillowy chest.
“Rest.” Ralak whispers. “I have you.”
“You won’t believe, brother. The tshahik is also in labour. And I couldn’t find you…I heard y/n scream and—oh…” Zu’té lowers his voice to a whisper, catching sight of the freshly born babe in your arms. “Tak. He’s here.” His voice falters even more as he nears his blood.
His only family outside of Ralak. He’s awestruck, taking in all the different features of a new kind as he feeds. The babe's skin resembles the depth of his mother, but the tone of his father. Stripes like an omaticaya. Tail like a Metkayina. Five-fingered.
Truthfully, the length of his stare has Ralak feeling a little uneasy and a bit protective.
“Toto.” Ralak hasn’t called him that in years, “Meet your nephew—Rak’äni.”
“Rak’äni.” Zu’té repeats through a whisper, keeping his distance from the babe. “Fyole [beyond perfection].”
Ralak relaxes, smiling proudly. “He is.”
Zu’té fumbles with a small satchel on his hip, taking something out of it in a haste. He hands Ralak something small, something delicate. It's weaved to perfection, with colours of the sunset.
"For him." Zu’té says in a hushed voice, unfolding the garment to show his brother. It's a hat, an entirely new concept to the Metkayina. Ralak looks at him, a little confused, eyes bouncing between the strangely shaped item and his brother. "For the child's head."
Ralak smiles, his furrowed brows relaxing when he understands. Zu’té raises his brows and gently nudges it closer to the babe in your arms. Ralak nods, watching as Zu’té slips it on his head as gently as he can.
"Toto, that is very kind—"
"Don't flatter yourself." Zu’té cuts his brother short, pulling back to see the finished result of his hard work. It fits perfectly. "I had plenty of time."
Zu’té steps back, giving you two some space.
A sudden splash of the water makes Ralak jolt in his skin, but he calms down once he realises that it’s the healer situating herself next to you so she can tend to you. He isn’t all here right now, either.
“You did well, sa’nu.” You recognize her voice and strain to open your eyes, vaguely seeing her features.
She was at all your lessons with Ronal. The only one who didn’t look at you like some sort of alien. The only one who treated you with respect.
“All on your own. You need to be strong for a little while longer, alright? This may hurt.”
She begins gently massaging your abdomen under the water—a step that is empirical for healing. You clench your jaw and squeeze your eyes shut, shoving your head back into Ralak, who is visibly trying to withhold his look of displeasure.
“I get that look quite a bit. It’ll be over soon, sempu.”
You look down with foggy vision and see the hat on your baby's head. Immediately, you know who made it. You turn your head, looking directly at Zu’té and smile, mouthing 'thank you'. Zu’té returns the smile with a slight nod, remaining silent.
A high-pitched, excited voice has both you and Ralak turning your heads to see your little sister.
“Woah! Mama, look!” Tuk exclaims, tugging Neytiri by the hand to get a closer look.
“Shh, Tuk. He is asleep.” Neytiri hushes her youngest, nuzzling her into her side. The others stay quiet as they approach, crouching down at the bank of the lake to look at their new family member.
“I am so proud of you, my daughter. He looks like you.” Neytiri whispers, raking her fingers through your knotted hair.
You exhale a shaky breath and smile weakly, leaning into your mothers comforting touch.
Jake looks down at the suckling babe in your arm, eyes burning as they gloss over with tears. “You did it, babygirl.”
Hearing your fathers words after so many years of feeling like a failure, you can’t help the sob you sputter out.
“D-Daddy.” You cry shakily, breath hitching. “It was s-so h-hard.”
“I know, baby. I know. But you did it. ” He coos at his own baby, rubbing your shoulder as he looks over to Ralak. “You both did.” He smiles with his son-in-law, cupping the back of his head with his other hand.
Neteyam and Lo’ak wait patiently at the back, not wanting to crowd you. Neteyam is particularly worried for you, he’s been beating himself up for not checking on you when he knew deep in his gut that he should have.
Lo’ak is… nervous, despite his big talk about being the best uncle. Your parents pull back, allowing some space for you, Ralak and the healer.
“Guys.” You sniffle, craning your neck to look at them. “C-Come see your nephew.”
They approach cautiously and kneel down next to you and Ralak. Neteyam smiles, golden eyes quivering as he takes in his features.
“It’s uncle teytey.” Neteyam takes his nephew's tiny hand, his thumb grazing over his five fingers. Then Neteyam looks at you, his expression going from bright to glum. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you.”
You shake your head and smile, barely keeping your eyes open. “Don’t be.”
“Y/n. I—” To your surprise, Lo’ak is speechless. “He is beautiful.”
“Thank you, uncle Lo’ Lo’.” You smile with another sniffle, using that god-damned nickname he wouldn’t let up on.
Lo'ak returns the smile, hearing it fall from your quivering lips makes his heart full. You finally lean back against Ralak's chest, allowing your eyes to close, heavy and swollen from all your shed tears of joy and pain.
You feel the healer’s hands leave your stomach and make their way to your chest where she ensures the babe has latched properly. “Perfect latch. You are a natural, y/n.”
You smile wobbly at her words, feeling extra proud of yourself.
“I will leave the medicines here, ensure she takes them on time.” She’s speaking to Ralak, who is also in a daze, gazing down at his son. “I will come and check on her tonight. Until then, she needs to rest. No heavy lifting.”
Ralak finally averts his attention to the healer, a smile on his lips as he nods. He’d never let you lift a finger, anyways.
“Ralak, your wound is open.” Neytiri speaks with concern in her voice.
The healer looks down to see his mangled laceration. “Eywa…Now, this will hurt.” Her eyes go wide and she immediately gets her things to sew him back up. Neteyam and Lo’ak look at the bleeding gash with wide eyes. Jake grimaces.
“D-Does that hurt?” Tuk asks shyly, peeking out from behind Neytiri to see.
Ralak shakes his head with a smile, too overjoyed with the safe delivery of his first born son to even notice anymore.
“No pain. Only happiness.” Ralak says softly, accent heavy on his tongue as he looks back down at his now stirring babe.