Hey queen, I have a requestttt (kinda angsty and lots of fluff)
It can either be loak x reader or neteyam x reader and itâs a misunderstanding trope where reader has had a crush on neteyam for years now but never said anything, rumour goes aroynd that neteyam has found his mate and she gets so depressed and itâs kinda angsty. Then she finally confesses her feelings to tsireya or kiri and neteyam overhears EVERYTHING and he has a crush on reader too. However reader avoids him a lot cuz she thinks heâs already mated while neteyam keeps trying to talk to her like multiple attempts, then finally someone forces her to talk to him and he confesses
(Sorry it took this long, but Uni has been killin my ass lately. Hope you like it. )
ŕźâ§âËâ§Pairing : Neteyam x Fem!Reader
Love. To love, to be loved, and to be in love.
Among your people, it was more than a feeling - it was a bond whispered and carried by the tides, and blessed by Eywa herself.
Like a tidal.
You had always held it close, fragile and sacred, like a glowing seed cupped carefully in your palms. Never spoken too loudly, never shared too freely - as if naming it might break it.
That was simply who you were.
A heart worn openly, like the shimmer of the sea carried by the sun. Your emotions were not something you hid, they flowed through you, visible in every glance, every breath, every soft tremor in your voice.
A spirit as fierce as yours demanded a heart just as powerfulâand yours⌠was hopelessly drawn to love.
And yet, beneath that warmth, there was fear.
Because love, you knew, was not always returned.
And to love alone, to give everything and feel nothing echo back, was a kind of drowning no ocean could rival.
A silent, suffocating ache. One that could hollow you out until nothing remained but the memory of what once was.
So you were careful.
Careful with your smiles, with your lingering glances, with the way your heart reached without permission. You told yourself that you only had one heart to give, and it belonged to someone who had not yet found you.
Someone chosen - not by chance, but by something deeper. Something sacred.
But no amount of care could prepare you for what was to come.
For the quiet unraveling of something once so pure.
You still remember the first time the Sullys arrived.
The sky had darkened under the shadows of their ikrans, their wings slicing through the golden light as they descended upon the shores of Awaâatlu. The villagers watched in silence, tension coiling through the air like an unseen current.
They were outsiders, carrying stories, scars, and a past that clung to them like salt on skin.
Some called them cursed. Others simply kept their distance.
But you⌠you couldnât.
Something about them pulled at you, deep and insistent. Like the tide answering the breeze. Maybe it was curiosity, or perhaps admiration, but they were unlike anything you had ever known.
Different, yet undeniably powerful.
Like a storm that had learned how to walk on land.
Everyone knew their story.
Jake Sully - the Toruk Makto, the one who had once led a revolution, the one born of sky-people blood who chose to become something more. And Neytiri - the fierce daughter of the forest who gave up everything to stand beside him.
They had lost their home. Their roots. Their world.
And yet⌠they endured. Because they had each other.
âSullys stick together.â
It wasnât just something they said, it was something they were. You could see it in the way they moved, in the way their eyes always searched for one another, in the silent understanding that passed between them without words.
But it wasnât the legend that caught your attention.
It was him, the one carrying himself like the Sun.
From the very beginning, your gaze found him as if it had always known where to look.
The eldest son. The firstborn.
The weight of expectation resting heavily across his shoulders, yet he carried it with a quiet grace that made it seem effortless.
He stood tall, like his father. Moved with purpose, like his mother.
And yet, there was something softer beneath it all.
Something⌠gentler.
Neteyam was a warrior, yes, but not just in the way others were. His strength wasnât only in his skill or his bravery, but in the kindness he carried so naturally.
It was rare. Almost startling.
Like finding still water in the middle of a raging sea.
When he spoke, his voice held warmth. When he smiled, it reached his eyes.
And when he stood beside you⌠the world felt quieter.
As if all the sharp, jagged pieces inside you slowly began to smooth themselves out, reshaping under the quiet influence of his presence. You found yourself softening without meaning to, mirroring him, drawn into that calm like something instinctive, something inevitable.
At first, you didnât even notice it happening.
The way your heart lingered a little longer when he was near. The way your thoughts drifted back to him when he was gone.The way your chest tightened, not painfully, but achingly, when he smiled at someone else.
It grew slowly. Quietly.
A glance here. A shared moment there. A laugh that lasted just a second too long.
And you kept it to yourself.
Guarded it like a secret only Eywa could hear, waiting for the right moment - the perfect moment - to let it bloom into something real. Something spoken. Something returned.
But time has a way of slipping through your fingers when youâre not looking.
Days became weeks.
Weeks softened into months.
And before you could truly understand what your heart had becomeâŚ
Growing up beside Neteyam had never felt like something that needed effort. It simply⌠was.
Like the tide meeting the shore, like breath filling your lungs without thought.
You learned each other in quiet, instinctive ways - matching steps without realizing it, finishing each otherâs thoughts with nothing more than a glance.
Wherever you were, he followed, or maybe you followed him. At some point, the line blurred so completely that it no longer mattered.
When you sat with the other girls, polishing shells and threading them into delicate patterns, he would always find his way beside you, clumsy fingers fumbling through the process just to hand you the prettiest shell he could find, a shy, crooked smile tugging at his lips.
And when you braided someoneâs hair, your touch careful and practiced, there he was again - lingering close, asking Kiri just loud enough for you to hear to braid his hair the way you always did.
Always there. Always close.
Those small things, those tiny, almost meaningless gestures, became everything.
They fed the quiet flame inside you until it burned brighter than you could control, until loving him stopped feeling like a choice and started feeling like something carved into your very being.
You didnât just fall for him, you became entangled with him.
It reached a point where everything that belonged to Neteyam - his voice, his scent, the sound of his laughter carried by the wind - felt like something you needed, like air, like water.
You dreamed of him with your eyes open, imagined him beside you not just as he was, but as something more - your mate, your other half, the one Eywa had shaped you for.
And the more he grew, the more he seemed to become exactly what your heart had always been searching for⌠or maybe your heart had shaped itself around him all along.
In your eyes, he was perfect - not flawless, but yours.
The way he made you feel had no name, too vast and consuming to be contained in words.
You couldnât get enough of him - always finding reasons to be near, to touch him in passing, to laugh a little too loudly at his jokes.
You circled him like a restless songbird, bright and devoted, without ever realizing you had made him your center.
He was your happiness, and he didnât even know it.
He didnât need to - because for a long time, it felt like he was yours anyway.
But happiness like that is fragile, and fragile things break the loudest.
It didnât happen all at once - just a crack, then another, until the glass world you had built around the two of you shattered before you could understand what was happening.
Rumors had always existed, clinging to the Sullys like shadows.
Some admired them, praised their strength and the way they proved themselves again and again.
Others whispered, their jealousy sharp and quiet.
You had learned to ignore it, to let it pass like wind through leaves, but then the whispers began to change, to shift, to circle closer and closer until they wrapped around him.
âOf course he doesnât want a mate yet⌠why would he settle for one when he can have many?â
âSeyra followed him into the forest⌠she came back hours later like she had seen the stars themselves.â
Each word struck like something cursed.
At first, you refused to believe it, you couldnât.
Not him. Not Neteyam. He wasnât like that. He couldnât be.
He was⌠yours. Wasnât he?
But doubt is cruel - once it slips in, it spreads quietly, patiently.
And your heart began to ache long before the truth ever reached you. You could have asked him, you should have, but the fear of hearing it from his own voice was unbearable.
So you waited, clinging to a fragile thread of hope even as it unraveled in your hands.
Until one day, you saw them.
Neteyam walking in perfect sync with Seyra - close, comfortable, certain.
And just like that, everything ended.
The boy you had loved so quietly, so completely, had found someone to stand beside him, and it wasnât you.
Not after all those years, not after everything you had been to each other.
The bitterness of it settled deep, because Seyra was everything you were not - taller, stronger, shaped like a true warrior of the reef, her name spoken with admiration among your people.
She fit beside him in a way that made sense to everyone, and of course they celebrated it, of course they were happy for them.
And you⌠you were left behind in the quiet, slowly poisoned by something you couldnât fight.
You mourned a love that had never even been given the chance to exist, like a widow grieving a life that had never been lived. It hollowed you out, drained you until even breathing felt heavy.
Knowing he was near, just a few steps away from your marui, was enough to twist something deep inside you, sharp and unbearable, so you hid.
Curled into yourself, rooted to the same place for hours, replaying everything over and over again, searching for the moment it slipped away.
When did it change?
When did he turn away from you⌠or had you imagined it all?
Eventually, you had to step out of your home, if only to keep up appearances.
Too many people had started to worry, their glances lingering a second too long, their voices soft with concern whenever they spoke your name. You couldnât hide forever, no matter how much you wanted to.
Still, the moment your feet touched the warm sand again, something felt⌠wrong. The sun no longer kissed your skin the way it used to, its warmth dull and distant, like it belonged to someone else.
The grains beneath your feet didnât tickle or soothe you, they were just there. Everything was.
And you⌠you werenât.
It was as if something inside you had gone quiet, leaving behind a hollow, echoing cold that spread from your chest to the very tips of your fingers.
People noticed.
Of course they did. How could they not?
The girl who once moved like living light - always laughing, always reaching, always there - had faded into something unrecognizable.
Your presence no longer filled a space, it barely occupied it.
It showed in your eyes most of all - those deep blue hues that once shimmered with turquoise brightness, now dulled, dimmed like a sky before a storm that never breaks.
Your arms stayed wrapped around yourself as if you were trying to hold something in place, something fragile that threatened to fall apart at any moment.
Your lips, once so quick to smile, now pressed into a thin, tired line.
And somewhere beyond your awareness⌠Neteyam noticed it first.
Your absence unsettled him in a way he couldnât quite explain.
At first, it was just a thought - she hasnât been around much.
Then it became something sharper, something that tugged at him with quiet insistence. He knew you too well to dismiss it as nothing.
You werenât the type to disappear, not without reason.
And when reason didnât present itself, concern took its place.
He asked about you - casually at first, then more often, his voice tightening ever so slightly each time your name came up without a clear answer.
But the worst came when you began to avoid him entirely.
Every time he tried to catch you alone, something stood in the way.
You were sleeping. You had somewhere else to be. You slipped away before he could even reach you, turning your back the moment his presence brushed against yours.
It wasnât subtle, it couldnât be, and it left him with a quiet, gnawing ache he didnât know how to name. He had thought your bond was something shared, something mutual. Not something that could simply vanish overnight.
Were you hurt? Were you sick? Had someone done something to you?
He didnât know. And not knowing ate at him.
Tsireyaâs voice broke through the haze, light and insistent, as she patted the sand beside her.
Before you could even think of an excuse, Kiriâs hand had already wrapped around your wrist, pulling you along with a familiarity you didnât have the strength to resist.
The two of them sat as they often did, small baskets of beads scattered between them, threads catching the sunlight in soft glimmers. It was such a normal scene, so painfully normal, that it irritated you in a way that felt foreign, almost wrong.
All you wanted was to go back, to curl into yourself and disappear into sleep, to escape the exhaustion that clung to you like a second skin.
But Kiri never took no for an answer, and Tsireyaâs smile was already too warm, too expectant. So there you were, back in your old place, like nothing had changed.
Your lips parted, a complaint ready to slip out, heavy and sharp, but Tsireya cut you off before you could speak.
âWe missed this,â she said softly, her voice carrying a quiet joy as her fingers continued their work. âSo yes⌠youâre staying.â
And just like that, guilt settled over you, thick and suffocating. It pressed against your chest, making it harder to breathe, harder to think.
It wasnât fair. Not now. Not when you could barely hold yourself together.
You had the right to be selfish just this once⌠didnât you?
Then why did it feel like you were the one doing something wrong?
Being around them only made it worse.
Their laughter, their ease, the soft rhythm of their movements, it all felt like a mirror reflecting everything you had lost. Everything you no longer were.
Their happiness twisted something deep inside your stomach, a quiet reminder of how out of place you had become ever since⌠him.
And Kiri, Eywa, Kiri was the worst of it.
Not because of anything she did, but because of what she was.
There was something about her - her softness, the way she carried herself, the quiet strength beneath it all - that echoed him in ways you couldnât ignore.
She felt like a reflection, like a fragment of him standing right in front of you, and it made your chest ache in ways you couldnât put into words.
âI donât know what to say about thisâŚâ you finally murmured, your voice distant, fingers dragging absent patterns into the sand just to avoid looking at them.
Both girls stilled, their attention shifting to you immediately.
It wasnât like you, not at all.
You loved these moments, cherished them.
So where had that version of you gone?
âY/NâŚâ Kiriâs voice softened, her hands leaving her work as she turned fully toward you, concern written clearly across her features.
âYouâre like our sister. Seeing you like this, itâs worrying us. Please⌠talk to us.â Her hand came to your shoulder, rubbing gently, grounding, comforting.
And just like that, it hit you.
That unbearable, suffocating need to cry. To let it all spill out, raw and ugly and real. It clawed at your throat, burned behind your eyes, but fear held it back.
Fear of saying it out loud. Fear of hearing it.
Fear of making it real in a way you couldnât undo.
âI⌠Iâm just tired.â
The words came out wrong - tight, strained, barely holding together as the knot inside you twisted painfully.
Even you didnât believe them.
Tsireya moved without hesitation, closing the distance between you in a single motion. Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you firmly against her chest, warm and unyielding, like something meant to protect rather than comfort.
There was no escaping it - not that you truly tried.
âI can feel your spirit,â she murmured gently, her voice low and certain. âSomething is hurting you. You were fine⌠not long ago. What changed?â
Thatâs what you wanted to scream.
Your heart did. Your feelings. Your foolish, fragile hope that had grown into something too big, too consuming to survive.
âNothing, really. Iâm just going through a rough phase, I believe. Just⌠give me some time to figure myself out.â
Your voice came out softer than you intended, fragile at the edges, as if it might crack apart if pushed even a little further.
Tears burned behind your eyes, already threatening to spill, but you forced yourself to look away, far beyond them, far beyond everything, fixing your gaze on the endless stretch of sea. The waves rolled in and out, steady and indifferent, as if nothing in the world had changed.
Just a little longer.
If you could just hold it in a little longer⌠you could break later, when no one was there to see.
The silence that followed was heavy.
You didnât need to look at them to know they didnât believe you.
How could they?
You had grown up together, shared too many moments, too many pieces of yourselves. They knew you like the lines of their own hands.
To them, you were as easy to read as clear water over white sand.
âIf you donât want to speak to usâŚâ Tsireya began carefully, her voice gentle but firm, âyou could speak to someone else. Loâak, maybe⌠or my brother. Neteyam is worried too. Heâs been trying to talk to you for so longâŚâ
And just like that, everything shattered.
His name struck something deep inside you, something raw and unhealed, and before you could stop it, the tears spilled over.
Your chest convulsed violently as sobs tore their way out, sharp and uncontrollable, each breath catching painfully in your throat. It hurt, just as much as it had every other day, tight and suffocating, like your lungs refused to work properly under the weight of it.
âGreat Mother, help us, Y/N, whatâs happening to you?!â
Kiriâs voice broke, panic slipping through as her hands came up to cup your face, turning you toward her as if searching for an answer hidden somewhere in your expression.
But there was nothing there to find.
Just broken breaths.
Shaking shoulders.
Tears that wouldnât stop.
âIâm sick of it⌠Iâm sick!â The words ripped out of you, jagged and desperate, as you pushed yourself away from them, your body trembling as your hands pressed into the sand, grounding yourself against the sudden surge of emotion.
âBoth mentally and physically-...itâs like a parasite, eating me from the inside out!â
Your voice rose, strained and unstable, your fingers clawing instinctively at your neck before dragging down to your chest, pressing hard against the place where your heart throbbed erratically beneath your ribs.
âThis heart is messing with me- I⌠I want it out!â
The words came out almost hysterical, laced with something raw and dangerous, your eyes flashing with a kind of anger that didnât belong to you, not really.
âIt sickens me, do you get it?!â
Neither of them knew how to respond, your words hanging in the air like something forbidden, something wrong.
It was as if they were looking at a stranger, someone twisted by pain into something unrecognizable.
âWe can talk about it, okay? It will be fineâ...â Kiri tried, her voice soft, careful, reaching for you like she always did.
But this time, you recoiled.
A sharp, almost feral hiss slipped through your teeth, your body tensing as if her touch burned.
âStop this crap!â you snapped, your voice breaking under the weight of everything you had been holding in.
âYou donât know anything! Itâs not like I could help myself either - do you think I like the way I am now? Hell no!â
Each word came out heavier than the last, soaked in bitterness, in frustration, in something dangerously close to self-loathing as your hand pressed harder against your chest.
âAnd for what? Because of this stupid heart I have?â
Your breath hitched, voice dropping into something quieter, more broken, yet somehow more painful.
The words trembled as they left you, barely above a whisper now.
âCursed by loving someone who was never meant to be mine.â
Your lips quivered, your vision blurring again as fresh tears slipped down your cheeks, unstoppable.
âI wasted the one thing I treasured⌠for what?â your voice cracked, hollow and defeated. âFor nothing.â
Silence fell again, but this time, it was heavier.
ââŚBut you never looked at anyone,â Tsireya murmured slowly, confusion threading through her voice as she tried to piece everything together. âYou never told us you were interested in someoneâŚâ
A laugh escaped you - low, hollow, and completely lifeless. It didnât sound like you at all.
âI didnât want to,â you admitted, your voice trembling as your gaze dropped back to the sand, unfocused.
âNot until I felt him⌠falling for me the same way I was falling for him.â
The words felt bitter on your tongue.
âCan you imagine?â you let out another weak, broken breath, shaking your head slightly.
âAll those years⌠trying to matter to him. Trying to be seen.â
Your lips trembled again, your chest tightening painfully.
âAnd another woman got him⌠in just a few weeks.â
The shame hit harder when you said it out loud. It burned through you, hot and suffocating, making your face flush as if the truth itself was something humiliating.
Something you should have hidden better.
âAre you speaking aboutâ...â Kiri started carefully, her voice barely above a whisper.
But you cut her off immediately. A weak, trembling motion of your hand, as if even the sound of his name would break you further.
âDonât,â you breathed, your voice fragile now, almost pleading. âDonât even say his name⌠I beg you.â
Your throat tightened again, your stomach twisting violently at the mere thought of him being close, existing somewhere within reach.
âJust thinking about him being near meâŚâ you swallowed hard, your voice dropping into something quiet and raw, âmakes me sick.â
You drew in a shaky breath, your body still trembling, your heart still aching...
ââŚthe worst part is that I still love him.â
From afar, Aonung jabbed Neteyam sharply between the shoulder blades, the sudden impact snapping the forest Naâvi out of whatever thoughts had taken hold of him.
His body tensed instinctively, head turning with a quiet, irritated breath, only to be met with Aonungâs knowing look, brows slightly raised, lips curled in something halfway between amusement and concern.
âPay attention,â Aonung muttered under his breath, though his gaze flickered past Neteyam almost immediately, toward the scene unfolding not too far from them.
Both Loâak and Aonung had noticed it - the shift in the air, the way your voice had risen just enough to carry, strained and breaking in a way that didnât belong to you.
It wasnât hard to connect the pieces.
Not when Neteyam had been restless for days, distracted in a way that was unlike him, his attention always drifting, always searching.
Neteyam frowned, confusion knitting his brows as his gaze followed theirs, landing on you.
At first, he didnât fully understand what he was seeing - your trembling frame, Kiri and Tsireya gathered close, the tension thick around you like a storm about to break.
But then your voice carried again, raw and uneven, and something inside his chest tightened sharply.
ââŚDonât even say his name⌠I beg youâŚâ
It wasnât just what you said, it was the way you said it.
Like it hurt. Like it destroyed you just to speak.
A strange, uneasy feeling crept up his spine, something cold and unfamiliar. His jaw tightened slightly as his eyes stayed fixed on you, trying to understand, to make sense of something that refused to fall into place.
âWhatâs wrong with her?â Loâak murmured, his voice lower now, stripped of its usual edge as concern settled in. His brother couldn't really figure out if he was worried because of you or for his mate, who was desperately trying to help you cope with your emotions.
Neteyam didnât answer right away.
Because something about this felt⌠wrong.
You had been avoiding him, he knew that much.
Felt it every time you turned away, every time you slipped through his reach like something he wasnât allowed to hold onto anymore.
And now, seeing you like this - broken, shaking, unraveling right in front of him - it didnât sit right with anything he thought he knew.
ââŚI donât know,â he finally admitted, his voice quieter than usual, rough around the edges.
Both Aonung and Loâak shared the same look - one that sat uncomfortably between irritation and something almost pitying, their expressions tightening as they watched the scene unfold.
âMan, I told you to stop getting involved with that woman,â Loâak muttered under his breath, though there was nothing light about it this time.
His hand lifted, gesturing sharply toward where you sat, barely held together between Kiri and Tsireya.
âLook what you did⌠to the one who actually loves you.â
The words hit harder than any blow.
Neteyamâs jaw clenched, a quiet, frustrated sound leaving him as he dragged a hand down his face, but he didnât argue.
He didnât deny it. Because deep down, far deeper than he ever allowed himself to admit, he knew they were right.
They had always been right.
From the very beginning. And still⌠he chose not to see it.
Or maybe it was easier that way.
Easier to pretend, easier to push it aside, easier than facing something he didnât know how to handle.
Because the truth was simple, and yet painfully complicated.
Neteyam didnât understand feelings.
He had grown up learning that emotions could be dangerous, that they could cloud judgment, weaken resolve, put not only him but the people he cared about at risk.
He had seen it happen, seen how deeply things could spiral when feelings took control. He had watched it through Loâak, through every reckless decision driven by impulse and heart rather than reason.
And so, Neteyam learned the opposite.
He learned control.
Distance.
Neutrality.
Or at least⌠he thought he did.
Because none of that prepared him for you.
At first, it had been easy to explain.
You were always there, always just behind him, beside him, laughing too loud, pushing too hard, never afraid to challenge him in ways no one else dared.
You were part of his life in the most natural way possible, woven into it so tightly that he never thought to question it.
You were⌠his responsibility.
Something like a younger sister - someone he had to look after, to guide, to protect.
Thatâs what he told himself, over and over again, whenever his chest tightened a little too much when you smiled at him. Whenever his gaze lingered a second too long.
Whenever your absence felt⌠wrong.
He ignored it.Buried it. Because it didnât make sense. Not when you had always been you. But time had a way of shifting things, whether he wanted it to or not.
You grew. Changed.
And somewhere along the way, without him realizing it, without him allowing himself to realize it, something inside him changed too.
It wasnât sudden.
It was quiet. Subtle. Dangerous in the way it crept up on him slowly, until it was already there, already rooted too deep to be ignored.
The way his heartbeat picked up when you were near.
The way your voice lingered in his mind long after you were gone.
The way no one else - no one - ever seemed to hold his attention the same way you did.
And when it finally clickedâŚ
It unsettled him. Because it wasnât supposed to be like that.You werenât supposed to be the one.
And yet⌠you were.
You - with that taunting smile that always managed to get under his skin.
You - the only one bold enough to push him, to challenge him, to make him feel something other than control.
You - with your rough edges and ocean-deep eyes, impossible to ignore, impossible to forget.
And seeing you like that - drained, hollow, nothing like the girl he had known his entire life - forced something into place inside him with a sharp, almost painful clarity. It hit him all at once, heavy and undeniable.
Every broken word that left your lips, every tear that carved its way down your pale cheeks, twisted something deep in his chest until it hurt to even breathe.
Not intentionally, not cruelly, but that didnât matter.
The result was the same.
He had stood there, silent, uncertain, letting others speak for him, letting assumptions grow into something ugly and untrue. He had let the wrong story be written⌠and you had paid the price for it.
âI⌠justâshut it, guys. Iâll fix it.â His voice came out low, strained, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. âIâm the one responsible for this.â
There was no hesitation left in him now. No doubt.
His steps moved almost on their own, faster with each second, cutting through the distance that suddenly felt unbearable. The closer he got, the heavier it all felt - the tension, the pain, the weight of everything he should have said long ago.
Expected you to push him away, to look at him with anger, with hurtâwith anything that matched what he had done.
But not in the way he had prepared for.
The moment his presence reached you, it was as if something inside you snapped. Your entire body reacted before your mind could catch up, tensing, recoiling, your head turning sharply toward him as if he were something to be feared rather than known.
Something feral flickered behind your eyes.
His voice softened instinctively, cautious, careful, as if approaching something wounded - because thatâs what you looked like.
His ears pressed back against his head, his posture lowering just slightly, the way it always did when he felt⌠wrong. When he didnât know how to fix what stood in front of him.
But this time, it wasnât enough.
Just when you thought the fire inside your chest had reached its limit, when you were certain nothing could burn worse than this, it did.
Because there he was - close, too close.
Reaching for you with the same arms that had always meant safety, warmth, something dangerously close to home⌠and yet now they felt unbearable, heavy in a way that made your skin crawl, like something sacred that had turned into a burden you could no longer carry.
âGet away!â
The hiss tore out of you before you could stop it, raw and primal, sharp enough to freeze the air around you.
It wasnât just anger - it was something feral, something wounded, something that had been locked away for far too long.
No one dared to interfere. Not Kiri, not Tsireya.
They saw it clearly, this was the breaking point, and it belonged to you.
Neteyam didnât step back.
Of course he didnât.
His ears flattened instinctively, that familiar crease forming between his brows as his tail lashed once behind him, restrained but tense, like he was holding himself together by force.
âY/N⌠we have to sort this out, okay?â His voice was steady, but there was something underneath it now - something strained, something almost desperate.
One sharp glance toward the others was enough to send them away, reluctant but understanding, leaving the space between you exposed, raw, suffocating.
Just the two of you, standing in the wreckage of something that once felt unbreakable.
âWhat is there left to talk about, huh?â
The words spilled out harshly, your throat burning with the effort of holding everything else back.
Tears threatened again, blurring your vision, but this time you refused them, you would not let him see you break again, not like before.
Not when he was the reason.
He frowned, confusion flashing across his face, real and unfiltered, and somehow that made it worse.
âWhat happened to you, Y/N? To us? Why didnât you come to me? Why couldnât you tell me what was bothering you?â
There was no blame in his voice, no anger - just sincerity, just that same quiet care he had always carried for you.
And for a second - a single, dangerous second - it made your chest twist with something that almost felt like regret.
A hollow laugh slipped from your lips, bitter and lifeless, nothing like the sound he remembered.
âEywa must hate me,â you murmured, your voice trembling despite everything you did to steady it.
Every nerve in your body felt like it was burning, small tremors running through you, making it harder to even stand still.
âIâm so sick of pretending⌠pretending about what I feel, pretending this - this friendship is enough, pretending Iâm okay watching everyone circle around you like it doesnât tear me apart from the inside out.â
Your breath hitched, uneven, your hands curling into themselves as if you could somehow hold everything in.
âItâs the worst curse someone could have.â
Confusion shifted across his features again, but this time it wasnât empty - it was searching, desperate, like he was finally starting to see the shape of something he had missed for far too long.
But you didnât give him time to speak, because if you stopped now, you would fall apart completely.
âI canât be your friend anymore.â
The words landed heavy, final, cutting through the space between you like something irreversible.
âNot because I donât want toâŚâ your voice cracked despite your efforts, betraying the truth you were trying so hard to control, âbut because it hurts. It hurts to have the one thing my heart wants so close to me and still not be able to reach for it.â
Your hand pressed weakly against your chest, fingers trembling over your racing heart.
âBecause it doesnât belong to me.â
You laughed again, quieter this time, broken, painfully aware of how it sounded even as you said it.
âI know⌠I know how stupid it sounds. After all these yearsâŚâ Your gaze dropped for a moment, your body swaying slightly under the weight of it all.
âAnd Eywa knows I tried - I tried so hard to stop it, to ignore it, to kill it before it could turn into something like this.â
Your voice faltered, breath catching as everything you had buried clawed its way out. âBut it was too late.â
Slowly, you looked back at him, no anger left now, no sharpness - just something raw, something completely exposed, something that had nowhere left to hide.
âBecause this stupid heart of mineâŚâ your voice broke, barely holding together, âchose you. From the very beginning.â
He followed every word like it was something sacred, something fragile that could slip through his fingers if he didnât hold onto it tightly enough.
His ears twitched with each sound, catching not just what you saidâbut what you meant, what trembled beneath your voice, what broke between your breaths. He had never listened like this before. Never needed to.
And now⌠now it felt like if he missed even a single piece of you, he would lose you entirely.
Because thatâs what this was.
You stood there, both of you, on the edge of something neither of you fully understood - he didnât know if he was about to lose you, and you didnât know if you were about to lose him too.
And for the first time in his life, Neteyam felt something dangerously close to fear wrap around his chest, tightening with every second you looked at him like he was already gone.
His voice came quieter than before, stripped of control, stripped of that practiced calm he had always hidden behind. It wasnât the voice of a warrior now.
It was just⌠him. Raw. Unguarded.
âBody and soul. More than you think⌠more than I ever allowed myself to admit.â
He took a step closerânot enough to crowd you, not enough to push youâbut enough to close the distance that suddenly felt unbearable. His movements were careful, like he was approaching something sacred⌠or something that could shatter at the slightest touch.
âYou think I didnât notice?â he continued, his voice low, almost breathless now, like the words had been waiting for too long and didnât know how to come out properly. âThe way you look at me⌠the way youâre always there, always reaching, always giving more than anyone ever asked of you?â
His gaze softened, something aching settling deep within it.
âI noticed everything.â
âI just didnât understand it⌠not at first.â
His hand lifted slightly, hesitating mid-air before falling back to his side, like even now he wasnât sure if he was allowed to touch you anymore.
âYou were always there,â he murmured, quieter now, almost like he was speaking more to himself than to you. âAlways beside me. I thought⌠that was all it was. That you were justâŚâ he exhaled shakily, searching for the right words, ââŚmine in a way that didnât need questioning.â
His jaw tightened slightly, regret flickering across his features.
âBut then it changed.â
His eyes met yours again, steady this time, even if everything else about him wasnât.
âAnd I didnât know what to do with it.â
There was no pride in his voice now. No certainty. Just honestyâpainfully clear, painfully real.
âMy heart started to⌠react to you,â he admitted, the words slower now, like each one mattered too much to rush. âThe way you smiled, the way you fought me, the way you challenged me like no one else ever couldâŚâ A faint, almost broken hint of a smile touched his lips. âYou made me feel things I wasnât taught how to handle.â
He swallowed hard, his voice dipping lower.
âAnd that scared me.â
The confession lingered between you, heavy and unpolished.
âSo I did what I thought was right,â he continued, quieter still. âI ignored it. I buried it. I told myself it wasnât real⌠because I didnât know how to face something that could take control away from me.â
Another step closer. This time, slower. More certain.
His voice steadied, not because the emotion was gone, but because he had finally stopped running from it.
âItâs always been real.â
Now, when his hand lifted again, it didnât hesitate as muchâfingers reaching carefully, slowly, until they hovered just inches away from yours.
Close enough to feel the warmth, but not yet touching. Waiting.
âYou think youâre the only one who suffered?â he asked softly, not accusing, just⌠asking.
âYou think it didnât hurt, watching you pull away from me? Feeling you disappear without knowing why?â
His brows drew together, pain flickering across his face.
âI thought I was losing you⌠and I didnât even understand what I had done wrong.â
His voice dropped into something deeper, something steadierâsomething that carried weight.
The words hurt to say. It showed.
âI let fear make choices for me⌠and it pushed you away.â
Finally, his fingers brushed against yours, barely there, hesitant, like he was asking without words if he was still allowed.
âBut listen to meâŚâ
His gaze locked onto yours, unwavering now, filled with something that could no longer be mistaken.
âYou didnât love alone.â
The words settled softly, but they carried more truth than anything else he had said.
A breath caught in his chest, like even now, saying it out loud felt unreal.
âI just didnât know how to say it⌠until it was almost too late.â
His hand finally closed around yours, gently but firmly, grounding himself as much as he was grounding you.
âYou were never a mistake,â he whispered, his voice rough now, emotion breaking through despite everything. âNever something I overlooked. You were the only one who ever reached that far into me⌠the only one who made me feel like I wasnât just what I was meant to be.â
His thumb brushed lightly against your skin, a small, trembling gesture that said more than his words ever could.
âAnd if you think Iâm letting you walk away nowâŚâ
A faint, fragile smile broke through the tension, soft and aching. ââŚthen you really donât see me as well as you think you do.â
âBut what about the woman you were spending all that time with, huh?â The words came out uneven, fragile despite the sharp edge you tried to give them.
Your eyes, glassy with unshed tears, searched his face like you were trying to carve the truth out of him, piece by piece.
âAll those days⌠just the two of you, running through the forest, so closeâŚâ Your voice faltered at the end, quieter now, almost breaking under its own weight, as if even saying it out loud hurt more than you had prepared for.
For a split second, Neteyam just looked at you - really looked at you -and something softened so deeply in his expression it almost undid you.
Then, to your surprise, a quiet laugh slipped from his lips. Not mocking. Not cruel. Just⌠relieved, almost disbelieving, like he couldnât quite grasp how something so simple had twisted into something that hurt you this much.
Before you could react, he closed the distance completely, his forehead pressing gently against yours, warm and grounding.
He rubbed it lightly against you, a familiar, affectionate gesture that felt so him it made your chest tighten all over again - but differently this time. Softer.
âSheâs building a place for her mate,â he murmured, his voice low, calm now, like he was smoothing over every sharp edge inside you with each word. âSomewhere hidden. Somewhere safe⌠in case they ever need it.â
His breath brushed against your lips as he spoke, close enough that you could feel every small shift in him.
âShe loves her woman,â he added, a faint smile tugging at his mouth, something almost amused flickering in his tone. âDeeply. Enough that if I had even thought about making a moveâŚâ he huffed softly, shaking his head just a little against yours, ââŚI wouldâve been torn apart by both of them before I could even explain myself.â
One of his hands came up slowly, carefully, like he was still afraid you might pull away, his fingers brushing along your arm before settling there, steady, warm.
âI was helping her,â he continued more quietly. âKeeping it quiet so no one would question where she was going, what she was doing. Thatâs all it ever was.â
There was a pause then, a breath shared between you, the tension shifting, unraveling, piece by fragile piece.
âAnd all that timeâŚâ his voice softened further, almost a whisper now, something heavy with meaning settling into it, ââŚyou thought I was choosing someone else.â
His forehead stayed pressed to yours, unmoving now, like he didnât want to risk losing this closeness again.
âI was never looking at anyone else.â
You felt the heat rise instantly, spreading across your cheeks until it burned, impossible to hide.
There was no denying it - you were ashamed.
All those days spent crying, breaking, convincing yourself of something that had never even been real.
All that pain, all that misery⌠because you had been too afraid to ask, too afraid to face him. In that moment, you felt painfully, embarrassingly small.
âHer⌠woman?â you echoed weakly, lips pulling into a crooked, uncertain line as you glanced up at him, still trying to process it. âEywa⌠this is justâ...â
You didnât even get to finish.
Neteyam laughed, soft at first, then fuller, warmer, like something had finally lifted from his chest.
His hands came up to cup your face, fingers spreading gently over your flushed cheeks, thumbs brushing lightly beneath your eyes where tears had once fallen.
There was no mockery in it, no cruelty, just relief, affection, and something deeply fond.
âUh-huh,â he murmured, still smiling as he leaned closer, his voice dropping into something softer, more intimate. âYou fooled yourself⌠all because you were too scared to come to me.â
His thumbs traced slow, absent circles against your skin, grounding, steady. âLittle skxawngâŚâ he added under his breath, the word lacking any real bite, softened completely by the warmth in his tone. âMaking me wait for you like a mad, driven manâŚâ
Your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat as he leaned in closer, his nose brushing yours. Everything slowed, the sound of the waves, the distant voices, the world around you fading into something quiet and distant.
âAnd nowâŚâ he whispered, his voice barely there, lips just a breath away from yours, âletâs stop wasting time.â
There was no rush in the way he moved. No hesitation either.
His hand shifted slightly, one thumb tilting your chin up just enough to close the last inch of distance between you, and when his lips finally met yours, it was softer than you had ever imagined.
Gentle, careful, as if he was afraid you might still disappear if he pressed too hard.
It wasnât overwhelming.
A quiet kind of right that settled deep in your chest, unraveling every knot that had been tied there for so long. His lips lingered against yours, warm and steady, like he was memorizing the feeling, like he had been waiting for this moment just as long as you had - only neither of you had known it.
And when he pulled back, it wasnât far.
His forehead rested against yours once more, breath still mingling with yours, his hands never leaving your face.
âThere,â he murmured softly, a faint smile in his voice. âWas that so hard?â
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