In The Garden

You felt the thrum of the club’s bass before you even saw the front doors. It shook the ground in rhythmic beats, some kind of strange, unnatural earthquake, and seemed to pull anyone within a mile radius toward its center. Everywhere you looked, civilians were headed toward the entrance. Skimpy skirts, sleeveless muscle tanks, even pressed business suits - they all gravitated toward the Eros Club like droning, mindless machines.

As you cruised slowly down the street, your hand rested atop the steering wheel of your ride, Jackie released a low whistle from his perch in the passenger’s seat. He was so sinewy and bulked that he hardly fit in it. “Some place,” he said when you parked your car on the curb between a number of other vehicles. “No wonder every other club in town’s tanked to shit. Everyone’s comin’ here.”

You gave a hum and peered up the club through the window. The Eros Club was a three-story decker situated on a corner close to the water, with neon lights that cast the streets surrounding it in an eerie, yet exciting glow. A long, twisting line of people waited for entrance, kissing and grinding and complaining on their cells. Armed guards stood at the doors, standing rather close to a small woman personally checking each visitor before they went through.

“It won’t be standing for much longer,” you said, then climbed from the car.

This job was supposed to be simple. Simpler than most you and Jackie had done. Your client was a faceless shroud who spoke to you over the net, promising big bucks for the infiltration of the Eros Club. They claimed to be a rival club owner who was losing business; they’d heard from a friend of a friend of an enemy Eros was illegally drugging patrons until they were hooked and coming back every night for more. Your job was to secure a dose of whatever substance was being used and give it to your client’s men at the drop point.

Jackie hadn’t liked it at first. He was adamant about seeing the client face to face before agreeing to nabbing the drug, but he hadn’t needed much more convincing when you told him the amount promised.

“Sounds too easy,” he’d said when you informed him of your client’s approach. “Then again…” He’d flashed you that signature smile and you hadn’t been able to help but give it back. “We could use a night out on the town.”

As you left your vehicle and approached the club, weaving between sweaty bodies and over broken bottles scattered along the ground, you spared a glance over at your partner. Jackie Welles was a unit of a man, built like an ox and suited to take one down. Not only was he one of the best-looking men you’d ever met, he was also the kindest. In the same day, he would toss live grenades into gang dens, then untangle a stray cat from the plastic wrapping caught around its paws. He was funny, and caring, and above all else, loyal. No matter the situation, you knew you could count on Jackie to have your back.

And a part of you hated it.

You hated how close you had grown to the mercenary over the number of months you’d been working together, how you knew his middle name and his birthday and his mother’s favorite flowers. You hated that every time you shared a drink at After Life your knees would brush together and the simple touch would strike a match in your veins. And you hated yourself for, not once or twice, but almost every time you relieved some of your pent-up sexual tension by yourself, you imagined it was him hovering between your legs making you feel so deliciously.

“Aye. You with me, chica?”

Blinking away the dirty thoughts swimming through your head, you glanced up at Jackie. You had almost made it to the front doors - much to the chagrin and disdain of the people who had been waiting in line for hours. “Come again?” you said.

Jackie jerked his head toward the doors. “I said, you got the passes?” He watched as you fished through your pockets before producing the VIP passes your client had provided you with in order to get into Eros without much hassle. “Somethin’ on your mind?” he said as he accepted his pass. “Your head’s usually more in the game than this, V.”

Slipping the pass around your neck, you swallowed thick and avoided his gaze. “Sorry,” you said, and left it at that. He tilted his head at you in that way he did when he knew you were lying, but he didn’t push it. If anyone knew how to coax something out of you, it was him.

And you were terrified he would get this out of you, too.

The guards blocking the front doors looked you and Jackie up and down as you approached, arms crossed tight or hefting a baseball bat over a shoulder. “What business you got?” asked one.

In sync, you and Jackie both raised your VIP passes from around your necks. It only took a few moments of inspection for them to step aside so that you could face the small woman sitting on a stool. Up close, you were able to see she wore plastic gloves over her thin hands and beside her on a cart lay caps of what looked like ink. She beckoned you forward.

“Listen up, and listen well,” she said as she prepared a fresh cap from her tray. “No touching the dancers unless you want to walk home without one of your arms. No going behind the bar; if you want something - or someone - ask one of the bouncers inside and they’ll get it for you. No contraband allowed inside.” She motioned. “That means pieces. Unload it all.”

Jackie grumbled beneath his breath as he grudgingly unholstered his firearms and the machete strapped across his back before placing them in the trunk at one of the guards’ feet. You followed suit, dumping your belongings beside his. “Be good, carinos,” he murmured to his iron before the lid was snapped shut.

“One last thing,” drawled the woman before snapping a bubble of gum in her mouth. “Tongues out.”

Your breath caught in your throat, something between a scoff and a laugh. “What?”

She wiggled her ink-coated thumb. “If you want in,” she said as if she were talking to a child throwing a tantrum, “tongues out. Helps us know who actually heard the rules and who snuck in through the side door.” She tilted her head in exasperation. “It’s just a bit of edible ink. It’ll wash off in a few hours.”

Despite how appalled you were at the idea of having this random chick’s thumb on your tongue, it was the thought of more eddies in your account that made you open your mouth and lay your tongue flat. You clenched your fist as she pressed her thumb against your tongue, fighting off the urge to gag. When she was done, you wiped your lip and watched as Jackie stuck out his tongue to get his own print.

You were unable to help the pang of hot, searing jealousy that shot through you when he gagged slightly and she winked at him.

“Get that reflex under control, baby,” she teased as she pulled her arm back and discarded the glove. “Who knows when it’ll ruin a good time.”

“Are we done here?” you blurted. “No offense, but we didn’t come to get tongue tats and swap dick sizes.”

She was obviously bored of you. With a flick of her head, the guards opened the doors, and you both strode through quicker than necessary. Jackie’s limp - put there after he broke his leg as a boy and it never healed properly - slowed him slightly, but you’d become accustomed to matching your pace with his. Your frame silhouetted beside his bulk and muscle, the doors sealed shut behind you, a crypt trapping unfortunate souls within.

Jackie ran his freshly-inked tongue over his teeth, his features illuminated by the neon pink glow from the lights overhead. “Tastes like licorice,” he commented, then screwed up his face. “The bad kind.”

You murmured a low hum of agreement as you walked toward another set of doors that led into the main wing of the club. “The kind that’s been sitting in the sun for a week.”

“Heh.” He smiled, and you kept your focus straight ahead, trying to squash the butterflies fluttering in your belly. “And you know what that tastes like?”

“Please,” you said and placed a hand on the door. “I grew up in the streets, Jackie. I ate anything I could come across.”

You heaved open the door, and at once you were both enveloped in a hurricane of noise and light and skin. A gargantuan disco ball threw off flashes of neon lights across the club floor, bathing dancers and strippers and drunks in a dream-like hue. Booths were filled to the edges, every stool at the bar taken. Overhead, balconies overlooked poles and flashy cages that hung from the ceiling; inside, men and women wearing less than an inch of clothing humped the bars and whistled down at patrons. And if the customers weren’t ogling up at them, they were grinning stupidly at the glittery joytoys serving their drinks.

You were forced to stop for a moment to take it all in. You’d never seen anything like this. Sure, you’d been raised by a multitude of people in your childhood; madams of whore houses and gang leaders and club bouncers… suffice to say you’d seen a lot of clubs and dollhouses, but never something as grand as this. Jackie was right; no wonder all the other clubs in town were going under.

“Some place,” he said loud enough to be heard over the music.

Pulling yourself from the dazzling painting before you, you blinked a few times to clear your head and pursed your lips. “You know the drill,” you told him. “Don’t get distracted, okay? We’re here for a sample of the drug, and that’s it. Text if you find it, and we’ll meet back here.”

Jackie snorted through his nose as the bass dropped in the music and the floor rattled beneath your feet. “Me, distracted?” he mused and placed a hand on his chest. “You should practice what you preach, chica. You’re the one with your head in the clouds today. Although…” He cast a meaningful glance upward and winked at one of the young women in the dangling cages. You frowned. “Doesn’t seem like a bad place to be these days.”

Refraining from rolling your eyes, you huffed and left him near the doors of the club. You felt your boiling blood begin to cool to a simmer as you wriggled your way through the throng of parties and started for the bar.

Christ, you really needed to get this little crush done and over with. You’d known Jackie long enough to know what he liked; and it wasn’t what you were. He would never reciprocate your feelings; and even if he did, it would hardly be professional. The two of you were partners. So what if sometimes you crashed at each other’s places? So what if he sang you your favorite songs in the car when they came over the radio? So what if, when you’d once caught a bullet to the side, he’d crouched before you to stitch it up himself on your bathroom floor, needle held between his teeth and giant palm firm against your sternum to keep you still and breath on your stomach and -

“What’s shakin’, honey?”

You were yanked from your memories by the voice of the joy toy bartender behind the counter, staring at you with a flirty smirk painted across her lips. She polished a glass with nails that glowed neon here in the dim light.

“Sorry.” You took a seat at the bar - the first seat to have opened in a while - and rested your arms on the counter. It raised goosebumps along your skin. “I’m new here. What’s the most popular thing people get?”

“Why go with the flow, baby?” She grinned before she began to conjure up a drink, mixing liquors from bottles at her knees and pipettes from a sink behind her. “There ain’t another one like you, so don’t go and try to make a no one of yourself. Be true to who you are and what you want. ‘Ya hear me?” In a matter of seconds, she’d placed a shot glass in front of you; the drink within looked like liquid moonlight. How poetic. “Since you’re new, this one’s on me. Just be sure to come back, darlin’, yeah?” She winked, then crossed the bar to attend to her other guests.

Her words rattled through your head as you picked up the glass and swirled it a bit. You knew who you were; you were fucking V of fucking Heywood, for god’s sake. And yet… what did you want?

You scoffed, then glanced back and let your systems take a moment to analyze the contents of the drink in front of you, searching for any foreign substances. You knew what you wanted. But that just couldn’t happen. You were being stupid, crushing on your partner. Your friend - your best fucking choom. You spared a glance over your shoulder, at once spotting Jackie’s hulking frame where he sat at a wraparound couch with a trio of joytoys giggling and batting their eyelashes and touching his thighs. You grit your teeth and whipped back around.

Yeah - you were fucked.

A green alert from your systems told you the drink in your hand was perfectly safe. Nothing foreign or suspicious. Quirking your brow, you brought the shot glass to your lips and tipped it back. You weren’t going to turn down a free drink.

Nothing behind the bar - time to move on. You waved to the bartender in thanks, then got up and offered your seat to the next person waiting for a drink. Forcing yourself to keep from looking at Jackie and his new little entourage, you continued to scour the Eros Club for the drug.

Half an hour, then an hour ticked past you, and you still came up with zilch. None of the dealers - some of whom you’d grown up with on the streets of the city - had anything to present. Nothing in the food. Even a scan of the joytoys showed nothing to raise your alarm. You were empty-handed.

But not quite empty.

As you continued your search, you became aware of a warm, blossoming sensation making its presence known in the pit of your belly. It was heavy and light all at once, swirling like caged serpents aching to be released. It wasn’t long until you felt that familiar pang of need in your core, in between your thighs, did you realize what it was. You were turned on.

You tried to dismiss it as your hormones out of whack - whose wouldn’t be, surrounded by practically naked strippers and the smell of sex lingering in the air? - but as the minutes went on, you were unable to just pass it off. The tugging and demanding was becoming more urgent, and you felt your panties slowly soaking. Fuck.

Inhaling deep through your nose, you stopped for a moment to lean up against a steel pillar and clutch at your stomach. The ache was painful now, and sweat was beading at your hairline. What the fuck was this? Your mouth was producing saliva in overdrive, begging you to swallow, and you felt more empty than you ever had in your life. Your pussy was clenching around nothing, your nerves jumping with tingling sensation.

You lifted your head, feeling almost sick with desire, and your eyes locked onto a young couple leaning against the far wall. They were both a little more than red in the face; she was shaking out her top to let her chest breathe, and he was awkwardly crossing his legs in an attempt to hide his hard on. They murmured in one another’s ears for a moment, touched their tongues, then grappled hands and rushed out a side door.

Your lips parted as your mind finally connected the dots. There was no addictive drug here in the Eros Club; it was outside. The ink that woman had stamped onto your tongues; the drug was in that. You had been fucked before you even stepped inside. Of course people were trampling each other to come back here. The Eros Club was handing out aphrodisiacs at the door. Who wouldn’t want to fuck until they felt better?

You didn’t even have the chance to pull up your texts on your vision screen to warn Jackie. A wave of need ripped through you like a bullet, and you clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the moan that escaped your lips. Oh, Christ. Pushing yourself off the pillar, you found yourself stumbling through the club toward the restrooms in the corner. Your breath was coming out in heavy pants as you squeezed through sweaty bodies, every moment of contact with another person sending vibrations of desire through your veins.

It seemed an eternity and a half before you reached the restrooms; by whatever grace was left in the world, there was no one else inside. You rushed to lock the door behind you, then tipped over the sinks and brought handfuls of cold water to your face. It dripped from your nose and your chin, your lips, as you panted and gripped the sides of the sink. Unconsciously, you ground your covered crotch against the hard edge of the counter.

There was no way you’d be able to make it out of here before you all but collapsed of horniness - forget about even getting back to your apartment. You needed to take care of things here and now.

Just as you were about to push into a stall and practically rip your pants down your legs to bury your fingers in your cunt, an alert popped into your vision screen. It was from Jackie. Just thinking of his name pulled a hoarse moan from your throat, one that echoed through the bathroom. You opened the message.

V

That was it. Only your name. No period, nothing special. Then -

V

V

V

Open the door

Now

Now chica

Your stomach clenched and your core ached as you realized how he knew exactly where you were; you each had private-channel trackers installed in your hard drives. Viktor had suggested it after a job gone wrong when Jackie had been dragged half a block to get the shit beaten out of him while you were searching the streets a neighborhood away.

Fuck these fucking trackers.

There was no way you could even look at Jackie while you were in this state. You knew the moment you laid eyes on him, you’d jump his bones. And while the thought sent shivers of desire running down your spine, you knew you could never live with yourself if you did. Of course Jackie would never feel the same way you felt about him; he was your friend. Your friend who had held your hair back while you thew up in an alleyway, your friend who had dragged your drunk and sorry ass home too many nights to remember. Your best friend, who had seen you in too many states of ugly and repulsive to ever want you the way you wanted him.

You ground yourself against the counter once more, letting a shaky moan be pulled from your throat. It reverberated throughout the bathroom, echoing back to your own ears like a jagged symphony.

You jumped when something banged against the restroom door. At the same moment, a flood of texts from Jackie swarmed your vision screen.

V

V

V

Answer me

Open the door

Now

V

NOW

CHICA

OPEN THE DOOR

V

DAMN IT V

FUCK

The banging on the door grew more and more desperate, more frantic, and you realized Jackie was trying to ram his shoulder into the metal. You gasped for breath, clutching onto the counter, your face still wet from splashing water on yourself.

He was going to break the door - or his shoulder.

Swallowing thick and trying to drown out your thunderous heartbeat by focusing on the pulsing music, you gingerly pushed off the counter and approached the door. Your legs shook and your cunt clenched, desperate to be filled. Fuck, it hurt. It hurt like nothing you’d ever felt before - it was a kind of sensation you had never even imagined existed.

As you reached out to flip the lock on the door, you briefly wondered if Jackie was under the influence of the drug as well. Surely he wasn’t nearly as down bad as you were right now; he was at least three times your body mass. That dose he’d been given couldn’t have possibly done the same number on him as it did you; he was far too bulked and beefed up for that.

Biting your tongue to keep from immediately launching yourself at him, you unlocked the door to the restroom and opened it.

Your breath hitched at the sight that awaited you on the other side.

Jackie filled the doorway like a persistent shadow, sweat beading at his brow and his lips parted as his chest rose and caved with labored breath. His shoulders were tensed, his jaw set and his fists clenched at his sides. He peered at you from beneath his lashes, and for the smallest, quickest fraction of a second, you were slightly afraid of him.

“Jackie,” you said, but his name came out in more of a whimper.

His eyes flashed and he stepped inside the restroom, hand blindly flipping the door shut behind him. He locked it with a click, his gaze never once leaving you.

You found yourself taking small steps back, your heart fluttering and your hormones screaming at you to drop to your knees and tug at his belt. But your brain was firing in a different direction, speeding into overdrive as your partner began to approach you, footsteps hitting heavy against the tile floor. Was he mad at you? Furious that you had screwed up this job so far, enraged that while he was out there looking for the prize, you were in here getting off on counter counters?

Or was he feeling the same effects you were?

It wasn’t until your back hit the opposite wall of the sinks did you realize Jackie had backed you into a corner. His eyes stared you down from beneath his brow, the cross earring swinging from his lobe with every crooked step he took. You pressed yourself against the chilly wall, palms pressed flat on the metal.

“Jackie,” you whispered.

He stopped only inches from your form, his arms encasing you on either side. When you inhaled, you caught a lungful of his cologne that singed your nose in just the right way. Your knees wobbled and you clenched your jaw to keep from moaning right there and then. Your core ached to be filled by the man in front of you, and your fingers twitched at your sides.

Jackie brought one of his hands to touch your neck, the soft expanse of skin just below your jaw, and this time you did finally whimper to him. A high-pitched whine escaped your throat as his tattooed fingers trailed across your delicate throat, which he could have so easily crushed at a moment’s notice. He cocked his head at the noise, earring swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

“I got’ta be crazy for this,” he murmured, perhaps to himself, as his fingers trailed down, past your shirt collar to your collarbone.

You released a garbled moan again, forcing yourself to keep up on your own two feet. “No,” you forced out. His eyes flickered to meet yours from where they had been lingering on your neck. “I feel it too.”

“Yeah?” His eyes became half-lidded, and when he leaned forward, you swallowed thick. “You feel it when I do this?” Slowly, tantalizingly, teasingly, he dragged his lips down the column of your throat - and then clamped his lips down when you moaned aloud. It echoed across the restroom like a call to action, like the blank starting off the race.

Everything exploded from then on.

Jackie brushed teeth along your neck as he sucked bruises and hickies into your skin, tongue laving over the raw spots. To spur him on, to bring him closer, your hands flew up to grasp at the back of his head. Your skin burst into tingles and miniature detonations where he touched you and you touched him, and it was almost too much to handle.

“Fuck, Jackie,” you whimpered out into the hot air.

Jackie had moved his ministrations down to the hollow of your throat, right between your collarbones, and he licked his tongue over a fresh bruise before tilting his head up to rest his forehead against yours. You longed to lean forward and kiss him, to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, but you could only stare back at him as his gaze bore into yours.

“Jesucristo,” he huffed, his breath fanning hot across your face. You core ached and your pussy clenched, and now that you were so close you could sense the stiff, prominent erection tenting his pants. “You think we got a dose’a that shit?”

“I don’t care,” you panted, then grabbed his lapels to pull him even closer. “Dammit, Jackie, please fuck me.” Your brow furrowed, and your eyes screwed shut because if he suddenly came to, if he suddenly realized he was just on a drug and didn’t really want this, you didn’t want to see it. “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long, at this point I don’t care if it’s the drug. I need you so bad. I’ve needed you since you shoved your piece in my face in that garage, and I’ve needed you every fucking day since. Please - please, Jackie, fuck me.”

You stared at the darkness behind your eyelids, waiting for him to pull away. Waiting for him to tell you he was sorry, it was just the drug talking, that he needed to go. But he never did. Instead, you felt him take your chin between his thumb and his finger to tilt your head up. He pressed his forehead to yours again, then leaned his head until his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Open those eyes, chica,” he murmured. “I want you to watch me while I fuck you senseless.”

Not even a moment after you opened your eyes, your heart in your throat, Jackie attached his lips to yours as if he were going to die if he didn’t. He attacked your mouth with his own feverishly, almost violently - and you you wouldn’t have it any other way. Teeth clashing and tongues laving and moans rising from your throats, you barely registered it as he moved his hands over your sides. They traveled over your hips, squeezing the flesh of your ass, before grabbing your thighs just below.

“Jump.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Keeping your lips locked to his, your arms wrapped around his neck as you hopped into his grasp and locked your legs around his waist. You didn’t need to hesitate; you knew, you trusted, that he wouldn’t let you fall. He’d always been there for you, and he wasn’t about to stop now.

Jackie carried you to the countertop, where he set you down on the edge and came to settle between your spread thighs. He pushed them a bit further apart as if testing you, teasing you, seeing just how far you could go without snapping. You whimpered against his lips, tugging at his jacket.

“Hips up, chica bonita,” he said, and you at once obeyed. You lifted your hips as he took ahold of your waistband, trousers and panties together, and ripped them down your thighs. Almost as if the smell of your throbbing sex, almost as if he could actually smell it, he released a groan and bucked his hips forward to grind against your cunt. Your moans joined his and your nails dug into the leather of his jacket.

“Christ, Jackie!” you practically howled.

With one hand, he began to unbuckle his belt - your starving eyes following his every move - and the other flexed two fingers up the dampness of your slit. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as a tidal wave of pleasure washed over you; if you weren’t bracing yourself against the counter behind you, you would have crumbled. An intensity like you’d never known before was taking over your systems, flooding your drives. The drug was amping itself up now that what you needed was finally within reach.

Jackie cocked his head again as he ran his fingers up and down your entrance, at last working his belt loose and shoving his pants down his thighs. His erection sprang from the confines of his boxers, and your mouth watered just looking at it. His member was just like the rest of him; big, and thick, and wide. It slapped against your thigh as he surged forward to slam his lips against yours again; it was almost painfully hard. If you thought the effects of the drug hurt you, you couldn’t begin to imagine how he was feeling.

“So wet for me already, mamita,” he drawled under his breath. He drew his hand from your core and you nearly whined before he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked your slick from his digits - all while maintaining eye contact with you. Then he brought his thumb, thick and calloused from years of manual labor, and brought it to your lips. You understood at once. Grabbing onto his wrist, you took his thumb into your mouth and gently sucked on it, swirling your tongue around the tip. He released a shaky sigh, then withdrew his digit and placed it over your clit. The moment he began to rub quick, harsh circles over it, you cried out - and yet they were swallowed up as he connected his lips to yours.

“Good girl,” he moaned, rutting his hips against your thigh. “Good fuckin’ girl, V.”

You keened at his praise, spreading your legs further for him as he took his thick cock in hand and began to line himself up with your entrance. Outside the bathroom door, the music pumped and people were shouting with glee and lust, but you could hear none of it. You were transfixed on the man before you, the man that was peering down at you like you were his entire world.

“Fuck me, Jackie,” you told him in a strained voice. “Fuck me like you want it.”

“You better believe I do, chica,” he rumbled. “Always have.” Without another word, he pushed himself into your sopping pussy in one fluid movement. You opened your mouth to moan, but nothing came out. You were far too stunned, far too high on cloud nine to even think about coming down. Jackie’s cock stretched you in the most delicious way, practically spearing you open as his hips lay flush against yours. He tilted his head back to the ceiling and groaned low from deep in his throat, a noise that had you clenching around him.

That seemed to set him back into motion. His large hands wrapped around your middle, just above your hips, and used that as leverage to begin pistoning his cock in and out of your pussy. Your back arched and your mouth fell open as he pounded into you mercilessly, chasing not just your relief but his as well. The drug was still coursing through the both of you, driving your bodies to the extremes to get what they needed.

His name spilled from your lips, slowly at first, then quickly, like a mantra or a desperate prayer. His member was dragging across your walls in the most perfect way, letting you feel every ridge and vein and velvety inch. He would pull out almost entirely, then slam back into you again, his grip on your abdomen the only thing keeping you from inching up the counter.

“Jackie!” you wailed up to the ceiling. “Jackie! Fuck, Jackie!”

“That’s it, mamita,” he panted, dragging you further down the counter toward him. “Scream my name for them all to hear.” He slowed his pace, only slightly, so that he could lean over you and gaze down at you with half-lidded eyes. “I want them to know who you belong to.” He straightened, then slammed into you with a particularly harsh thrust that brushed against that sweet, heavenly spot inside of you. Your hands scrabbled for purchase on the counter, your legs wrapped tight around his waist.

“Right there!” you screamed, gripping onto his inked forearms. “Don’t stop! Please, don’t stop.”

“Tell me who you belong to, princesa.” He slowed his pace even further, instead opting to rail into you with deep, hard-hitting thrusts that left you seeing stars. “Tell me.”

You panted for breath, your cunt squeezing around him, begging for your nearing release. “You,” you breathed out, then yelped when he slammed into you. Your back slid slightly up the counter. “You!” you bayed, your throat beginning to go raw from the howling and begging. “Only you! Just you, baby, only you.”

Another thrust, one that forced black spots into your vision. The pleasure was right there, just on the brink, teetering on the edge.

“Tell them.” When you hesitated, Jackie leaned down and licked a short stripe up your throat. “Tell them who you belong to.”

Who were you to disobey? “Jackie!” you cried out, and you were faintly aware of the tears beginning to spill down your cheeks, born from the raw, unbridled pleasure and the pain of being kept from it. “Jackie Welles! Jackie - FUCK!”

“Cum for me, V.”

Spreading your thighs even further apart, he slammed into your cunt, bringing his thumb down to stroke at your clit all at once. It took only a number of thrusts until suddenly you were cumming. It was an almost violent, explosive, drowning-kind of orgasm that left you gasping for air you couldn’t draw in. You were blinded by the spots dancing in your vision, your limbs leaden and your lungs aching for air. You were above cloud nine; you were in heaven.

Above you, Jackie’s hips were beginning to stutter and falter in their rhythm. He yanked you down the counter again, slamming his hips into yours in a frantic sprint to his own finish. You watched him as he used you, unable to move or even speak as he groaned and grunted and railed into you one last time before he spilled into your pussy. A staggered moan was pulled from his lips as he emptied himself, his earring swinging as he slumped over you on the counter.

For a long, long while, you were both simply silent, still connected, sharing each other’s air as you regained your breath. Finally, Jackie stood straight again and slowly pulled his softening cock from your cunt. You winced as he fell from you, everything from your waist down practically numb. Your entrance, your clit, your thighs - sore, and red, and spent.

You said nothing, suddenly exhausted out of your mind and unable to do anything much, as Jackie grimaced tucking himself back into his pants, buckled his belt, then grabbed a few towels and wet them in the sink. He shushed your whimpers of overstimulation as he gently cleaned you up, keeping you quiet and still when he helped pull your pants back up and your shirt back down from where it had bunched up around your middle. Then he gingerly pulled you off the counter, slid down the wall of the sink, and cradled you in his arms.

Had the circumstances been different, you would have laughed. Jackie was holding you against him, nestling against your forehead and petting your hair on the filthy-ass floor of a club bathroom. But they weren’t different. You had just been drugged, and then fucked within an inch of your life by your best friend.

What a fucking mess this night had turned out to be.

Your bottom half ached as Jackie shifted you in his lap, keeping you cradled against him protectively. He smoothed your sweaty hair from your forehead, brushing the thumb you had sucked gently over the jut of your cheekbone.

“Jack-“

“Aye, carino, save that pretty voice of yours. We got to get you home-“

“Did you mean it?” Your voice came out sluggish and hoarse, strained from screaming his name.

Jackie peered down at you with a furrowed brow, carefully wiping away a tear stain on your cheek. “Mean what?”

“That…” You found your words sticking in your throat. You averted your gaze from his, instead focusing it on a corner of the ceiling. Another stroke of his thumb along your face at last coaxed the question from where it had been resting deep within your belly. “That you always have. Meant it.”

He stayed there for a moment so long it felt as if it had stretched into an hour. Before you could take it back, say it had just been the drug to try and cover your embarrassment, a small, crooked smirk spread across his features and he ran a hand over his face.

“Fuck, V,” he murmured, then exhaled a breath and craned his neck down so that your noses nudged together. It was a strangely passionate gesture, so foreign after the sinful acts you’d just committed. “Been wanting you just as long, chica. See you every day, looking like that, and it feels like I’m… I don’t know, a ticking fucking bomb. Didn’t know when I was gon’na go off.” He glanced up and around at the bathroom surrounding you. “Wish it would’ve been somewhere else, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.”

You stared up at him, the ache blossoming through your used body momentarily forgotten. At first you thought it was the drug talking, that soon his eyes would darken and he would be ready for another round. He wasn’t in his right mind; he was just saying these things to get you riled up.

But as you held his gaze, and he gingerly leaned down to capture your swollen lips in a soft, gentle kiss, you realized it was all real. It was all true. No drug-fueled fuck sessions, no lies - nothing but the truth. He did really, truly want you, just the way you were.

Slowly, Jackie pulled away from the kiss to smooth your brow with his thumb and press his lips against your forehead. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

A drained, sluggish smile overtook your lips. “No,” you murmured and reached up to cup his weathered cheek. “I know you’d never hurt me, Jackie.”

You stumbled through the club together a while later, supporting each other’s weights as you stopped at the front doors to collect your weapons from the bouncers. The woman who had drugged you still sat on her stool, and she watched you both with a knowing, charming smirk. When you met her eye, she winked before turning to the next customer in line.

A tired sigh escaped your lips as you collapsed into your car’s passenger seat, having handed over the keys to Jackie upon his insistence. He climbed in beside you, his own lids drooping as he started the engine. Then a grin passed over his features as he dug around in his pocket before flipping a small object your way. You caught it, then opened your palms to find one of the small tabs of drugged ink lying on its side.

“What?” he teased as he settled his hands on the wheel. “You didn’t think I’d forget about the job, did you?” His thick brow quirked. “Not that I didn’t just have the best fuckin’ night of my life with my girl.”

You smiled and flipped the tab of ink into the air. “You’re something else, Jackie.”

“What is it?” he asked gently. He stopped walking, making you face him and pulling you into his space. The smell of strong spicy mint and smoky grass attacked your senses.

You bit your lip and smiled as you peered up at him through the fringe of your lashes. He groaned softly, his hand on your waist squeezing before he lowered his head down to capture your lips in a hard kiss. You hummed, pressing your palm against his chest. “Well, you were the first to say you had something to tell me. You should go first,” you mumbled against his mouth.

Neteyam stared at you. His eyes lingered on your face, caressing every single feature with an intensity that made your chest ache before he lowered his head to kiss you again. This time, it was deeper, more thorough and desperate, his hand cupping your jaw so tightly it dug onto your skin.

“We will leave, baby...” he mumbled into the kiss.

“Leave?” you echoed, pulling away just an inch to look at him with a small, bewildered smile.

He chased your lips, refusing to let the distance open between you, his hand caging your jaw. “Go anywhere... wherever you want. You’re the nomad,” he mumbled softly against your lips, a faint smile touching his mouth.

You chuckled softly, lifting your arms to wrap them around his broad shoulders. “That’s what you were going to tell me?” you asked, gazing up at him, complete trust shining in your eyes.

He stared down at you until the silence stretched a second too long. You were just about to ask him again when, in the blink of an eye, an iron grip clamped down around your elbows, pinning them to your sides.

Your eyes widened in complete shock, your smile freezing as you looked at Neteyam. He looked frightened and in distress for a moment, before his face turned into a mask of stone, cold and unreadable.

“We’ll take care of this,” a deep, gruff voice sounded behind you.

“Neteyam?” you called out, panic instantly spiking in your throat as you felt yourself being violently jerked backward, dragged away from him. You thrash, looking around wildly, recognizing the faces of Omatikaya warriors surrounding you, harsh and unforgiving. “Neteyam!” you screamed, reaching for him.

Neteyam moved to follow, his lips parted as though he had something to say. Two older warriors immediately stepped in front of him, putting a firm hand on his chest to hold him back.

“You’ve done enough already, Neteyam,” one of the warriors said smoothly, his eyes fixed on you. “We’ll take over from here.”

Neteyam stopped then. He just stood there. He watched.

“Where are you taking me?!” you cried out, thrashing against the hands binding you. You groaned loudly in pain as they yanked your hands behind your back, tying the rough cords so carelessly that you felt a blinding pain on your shoulder.

Before you could process the agony, one of the massive warriors hoisted you like a sack of dead meat, throwing you over his broad shoulder. He was completely unbothered by your frantic wriggling and kicking.

“Neteyam! Neteyam!” you screamed into the forest, your voice cracking.

The last thing you saw before the dense jungle leaves swallowed him up was Neteyam, standing tall and silent, watching you get dragged away without doing anything.

You were so terrified of what they were going to do to you that when they finally dumped you into an under-root holding cell beneath one of the giant trees, you were almost grateful for the mercy of being left alone.

You had been thrown in without a word of explanation. Everything had happened so fast, so brutally, that your brain couldn't process the nightmare. Just moments ago, you were with Neteyam. And now, you were sitting in the dirt of a prison, awaiting judgment for something you didn't even have knowledge on.

What is happening? Why am I here? What are they going to do to Neteyam?

You were terrified for him, too. You convinced yourself that they must have tricked him. Or forced him. Surely, he would come for you. You completely dismissed the horrifying memory of him standing by, watching you get taken away without lifting a finger. Your heart, desperate to protect itself, clung to the only truth it knew: Neteyam loves me. He would never let me get hurt. He won't let me spend the night here. Let alone days.

But your hope was pulverized into dust by the grueling days that followed.

He didn't come.

The darkness of the under-root cell was maddening. You didn't see a soul for two full days, and when hunters finally appeared, it was only to stand guard outside your wooden bars, silent with hostility.

“Where is Neteyam?” you begged, crawling toward the bars, your voice hoarse from crying. “Please, where is he?”

One of the hunters barked out a cruel, bitter laugh. “She’s asking for Neteyam,” he sneered to his companion, as if you had just uttered the funniest joke in the world.

“Why? What happened to him? Is he hurt?” panic surged through you, genuinely terrified that something bad happened to Neteyam.

“He’s good. Nothing bad happened to him. You happened, though,” the hunter replied, leaning close to the bars, his eyes burning with disgust. “You brought good and bad, for sure. But Neteyam’s going to focus only on the good. You're going to bring him closer to getting justice for Priya.”

You stared at them, your breath hitching in your chest. The name sounded foreign. Priya.

“You won’t ask who Priya was?” the hunter taunted, a crooked, cruel smile stretching across his face. “The woman Neteyam loved.”

“The woman you helped kill,” the other guard spat.

Your lips parted, you wanted to ask more but no sound came out. It felt as though you had been ripped from reality and dropped into a twisted parallel world where everything that’s going on was opposite to what you know.

You had been with the Omatikaya for over five moons now. As a nomad, you never stayed in one place for long, but Neteyam had changed everything. For the first time in your life, you didn't want to leave. You wanted to build a home. You wanted to be anchored.

What you had never found in all your travels, you found in him: love. To love, and to be loved in return. He had swept you off your feet so completely. Not only was he a gallant, brave warrior, he was also the kindest, most gentle soul in the world. You had every reason to fall in love with him, and no reason not to.

...And yet, you had never heard the name Priya. You had never known he had loved someone else so fiercely that her memory still bled.

To be fair, you and Neteyam had never explicitly spoken the word 'love.' You thought it was too early, but that you both know that you were building toward it step by fragile step. You thought you were walking hand-in-hand toward a future together.

“Do you not get it? Do you know what your brother did to our people? To our family and friends?” the warrior demanded, his voice dropping into a harsh rumble. “It was Eywa’s mercy to have you falling straight into Neteyam’s lap. I knew it had taken everything in him not to strangle you on sight.”

You blinked, staring at them, your mind completely blank. You couldn't process it. Your heart refused to accept it.

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

One of the warriors slammed his heavy wooden bow against the cell bars, making you flinch violently. “We’re not stupid, you evil whore! Of course you’ll say that! No criminal ever admits to their wrongdoing. But we’ll see what happens in the coming days.”

“I don't know what you're talking about!” you sobbed, clutching your aching shoulder. “I didn’t kill anyone! And my brother, for all his flaws, is not a murderer! You are mistaken—”

“No, your brother is not only a murderer. He is a mass murderer! And you are his accomplice!”

“How dare you call me that without a sliver of proof?!” you screamed back, anger briefly flaring through your sheer terror. “I did nothing wrong to you or your people! I have only ever—”

In a fraction of a second, the guard drew an arrow and loosed it. The iron tip buried itself into the dirt inches from your bare foot.

You screamed, jumping back, your heart thrashing against your ribs. The warrior smirked, thoroughly satisfied with the fear and silence he had bought. You were terrified to see that there was no remorse in his eyes, only raw, unadulterated hatred.

For the first time since you were dragged here, a genuine, paralyzing fear settled into your bones.

You didn't know these people. You were in a foreign land, surrounded by strangers who wanted you dead. And the only reason you had let down your guards, the only reason you had stayed, was because you thought you were safe in the arms of the man you loved.

A wave of icy clarity washed over you, dousing the last embers of your foolish hope.

Neteyam was not coming to save you.

He had watched you get taken. He had stood by while they bound you like an animal. He had been in on it from the very beginning.

You realized with a blinding clarity that you didn't know Neteyam at all. Everything you thought you knew about him was a lie.

That night, you lay on your side on the cold, damp ground, facing the dirt wall. You traced aimless, trembling patterns in the moss, replaying every single touch, every soft word, every kiss Neteyam had ever given you, now realizing they were all just a performance leading to this moment.

You fell asleep eventually, shivering from the cold and weak from hunger.

When morning came, the male guards were gone, replaced by two huntresses. A small, wooden tray of food sat near the bars, and the arrow on the ground inside your cell had been removed.

“I don't understand why we had to be stationed here to guard that wicked whore,” you heard one of the huntresses mutter outside. “It’s miserable down here.”

You rolled your eyes. Tell me about it, you though as you stared at the tray. You hadn't eaten in over two days, but the moment the smell of the meat hit your nose, your stomach violently churned. Nausea hit you so hard you had to swallow down a rush of bile.

“Well, you know what happened with Vankaz,” the other huntress replied. “We can't even bring weapons near her cell. How are we supposed to hurt her if she acts up?”

You ignored their voices, forcing yourself to drag your weak body to the tray. You had to eat. You were terrified of what was happening inside your body, terrified of confirming what you already knew. You know that if you were to acknowledge the reality of it while being here, unsure of your future, you would go insane. You forced the cold food down your throat, gagging with every bite, and drained the water skin in seconds.

To make matters worst, the warrior’s warning about your confidence in your innocence fading with what they'll do to you in the succeeding days has commenced. For weeks, they interrogated you.

Different warriors came down into your cell. They asked you questions about maps, about schedules, about meetings with the sky people—things you knew absolutely nothing about. But they spoke with such conviction, presented you evidence with such absolute certainty, that there were moments you felt like you were losing your mind, wondering if you had committed atrocities in your sleep.

One afternoon, a high-ranking warrior brought a glowing electronic data pad, something you recognize to be human technology, and shoved it against the wooden bars, illuminating your pale, hollow face.

“A year ago, a group of skilled warriors hit our eastern perimeter,” he spat, pointing at the glowing screen. “Many innocent Omatikaya were butchered. Tuk, the youngest daughter of the Olo’eyktan, was left unable to speak a single word from the horror of what she saw. We intercepted these logs from the Bridgehead network, and ever since then, we have been tracking this path. Your path. We knew exactly when you would arrive in our lands. And you walked right in six moons ago.”

He swiped the screen, showing a detailed map of your exact travel routes over the past season. Every river you had crossed, every village you had rested at, every tree you had slept under. It was all logged. It predicted your arrival at the Omatikaya down to the very day.

“We knew what you were here for,” the warrior sneered. “You were here to finish what your brother failed to do, kill Toruk Makto. Getting Neteyam assigned to guard you was meant to stall you. But he had you fooled, didn't he? Even a murderous whore like yourself still had aspirations for love with a gallant warrior. But that will never happen. Neteyam’s heart died two years ago with my daughter when your brother slaughtered her. Everything Neteyam showed you was nothing but a lie to get you to confess.”

“I didn’t even know that Priya!” you screamed, your voice breaking. Tears streamed down your filthy cheeks. “I have never been to these lands before! How can you think—”

The warrior backhanded you, causing you to fall back to the ground. “You scouted these paths and provided your brother with the intelligence!” he roared back.

“I haven't talked to my brother in years!”

He stared at you. “You are an evil woman and seeing you so happy, thinking you had found love with the man my daughter loved her entire life sickened me. You stole her life and for that, you will pay with your life, too.”

You breathing hitched in your throat, your eyes wide as you stared back at the warrior. It was useless. They didn't want the truth, they wanted a culprit. They wanted someone to burn for their grief, and Neteyam had delivered you to them on a silver platter.

The mental torture was unbearable. One evening, when you refused to eat, a guard reached through the bars and violently slapped you across the face. The impact cracked your lip, spraying blood across your chin. But the physical pain was nothing. It couldn't touch the monstrous, yawning void inside your chest.

Neteyam had never come. Not once.

Your mind, trapped in that dark cell, obsessively pieced together the gruesome reality. When you first arrived six moons ago, you hadn't thought it strange that the heir to the Omatikaya leadership was assigned to guide you, to teach you their ways. After all, you are a sister of an Olo’eyktan. It was only fitting that a warrior of his social stature would be assigned to you.

Neteyam was charismatic right from the start. He made you want to put your guards down, trust him... and be real to him more than you had ever been before. You remembered how irritable he had been sometimes in the beginning. The way his jaw would clench when he looked at you. You had thought he was just annoyed at being assigned to play tour guide to a nomad.

But now, you know that it was because he loathed you. He could barely stand you then, you remembered. He would arrive at and leave the sessions on the dot. He looked at you and saw the monster who helped kill the woman he loved. You lied on the dirt, sobbing in the dark as you recollected every moment you spent with him.

Ever smile he gave you. Every time he held your hand. Every time he took you in his arms, held you against his chest, and made love to you in the little grotto you two found whe you were wandering in the forest.

It was all a lie. A calculated, cruel, sickening ploy to make you drop your guard. He had forced himself to touch you, to kiss you, to lie with you, all while secretly despising the very sight of you. He did it all for her. For Priya.

Your hand trembled violently as it slid down your thin frame, resting on your flat, hollow stomach.

You sobbed, a ragged, broken sound tearing from your throat. “Oh, Great Mother...” you whispered into the dark.

You felt sick with guilt for even thinking it, but in that dark cell, you wished with all your shattered heart that you were not with child. You see no future. It is only a matter of time until they kill you for the crimes they believe you committed. Only you would know of the life inside you and it would kill you twice, knowing that such a fragile life would never see the beauty of this world.

Days bled together until you lost count.

You developed a burning fever. Your body, weak from starvation and fear, began to give out. You lay in the dirt, shivering violently, your consciousness slipping in and out. Through the haze of your fever, you felt a cool, impossibly gentle touch on your forehead.

In your delirium, your brain conjured an image. You opened your heavy eyes and saw your mother hovering over you. She was just as you remembered, as if frozen in time. Her face twisted in deep, unbearable agony as her eyes tracked your body.

“Mother...?” you rasped out, your throat raw.

She let out a sharp, choked breath, reaching down and pulling your weak body up into her arms. You burst into hysterical sobs, clinging to her shoulders with desperate strength, burying your face into the crook of her neck just like you used to when you were a small child. She didn't smell like your mother. She smelled like spicy mind... and smokey grass. But you held on for dear life, drowning in the feeling of safety.

“You need to get away from here...” she whispered, pulling back just enough to frantically smooth your matted, messy braids, her hands trembling against your face.

“Mama... I missed you so much. I’m so scared...” you sobbed, trying to press back into her embrace, but she held you firmly by the shoulders.

Her pale yellow eyes, the exact shade you had inherited, were wide with terrifying realization. “Y/N...” she called, her voice shaking.

You looked around the cell in a daze. “There are guards outside... I can't escape... they'll kill me...” you whispered.

She stared at you, looking so defeated, heartbroken, and scared. “They won’t,” she said, her tone suddenly turning hard and unbreakable. She cupped your bruised face in her hands, tears flooding her eyes. “Y/N, I love you...”

You smiled weakly, nodding as fresh tears blinded you. “I love you, too, Mama... I missed you so much.”

She pulled you into one last, suffocating hug, kissing your temple so hard it felt like her lips would mark your skin. “I love you. I love you. I’m so sorry...” her voice broke completely.

After a moment, she stood up, gently pulling you up onto your feet. Your legs were like water, completely unable to support your weight. Before you could collapse, she hoisted you easily, carrying your limp body out of the cell and into the cool night air.

You looked around frantically, finding that there were no guards. Just a waiting direhorse tethered near the tree roots.

She threw a thick, hooded cloak over your shivering shoulders and easily lifted you onto the beast's back. She tied your waist firmly to the saddle so you wouldn't fall off.

You looked down at her in a feverish blur, convinced this was nothing more than a merciful hallucination before death took you.

“Go north and never stop riding,” she commanded, squeezing your cold hand tightly. “I will find you.”

You nodded numbly. Connecting your kuru to the direhorse, you commanded the beast to run. The animal took off into the dark, speeding away from the Omatikaya lands like an arrow shot from a bow.

As the wind whipped past your face, you turned your head to catch one last glimpse of your mother standing by the roots.

In the moonlight, the fever haze cleared for just a second. The figure standing in the shadows wasn't your mother, it wasn’t small or female. It was tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing, holding a longbow tightly in its hand. Your breathing hitched, snapping your head back around, and burying your face in the direhorse's head.

You rode and rode, only stopping to rest when you know you were well away. You slept in a cave you found, letting your direhorse rest, drink, and eat. It was when you woke up the next day that you realized you were truly, finally free. You remembered the night before... The memory of your mother... And the familiar figure you had seen in the shadows.

You shook your head, dipping yourself in the cold river water and trying to wrench your attention off your unrealiable memory. You refused to acknowledge what you saw. You refused to give anyone the credit. Your mother saved you. It was your mother. It had to be.

You rode for two more agonizing days, surviving on the waterskins and dried fruit tied to the saddle.

And on the third morning, you finally came face to face with the familiar, towering stone terraces of your home clan for the first time in two years. The clan your brother, Antulo, had led since your father's death.

The village erupted in joy when you rode in. Friends and clan members swarmed you, welcoming you home after years of your travels.

Antulo descended from the main pavilion, a wide, easy grin on his face. “What brings the nomad back to the fold?” he called out, his tone light and humored.

You slid off the direhorse, your knees buckling slightly, and eyed him with guarded, cautious eyes.

Looking at your brother, the boy who had teased and protected you as a child, the son who had wept at your parents’ pyres, you tried to reconcile him with the monster the Omatikaya had described. A mass murderer. A traitor who allied with the sky people.

They had spoken with such hatred. Extremely sure of their accusations. But if they had been wrong about you, could they have been wrong about your brother, too? Could Antulo be an innocent man framed by someone else? Or had your brother truly brought death upon innocent Omatikaya, leaving a little girl mute with trauma?

“Truly, Y/N,” Antulo continued, his sharp eyes scanning your exhausted face and the bare, dirty direhorse. “I am happy to see you, but this is sudden even you can say so. You have no gear, no packs. Did something happen out there?”

You forced your expression to remain flat, shaking your head. “I simply grew tired of traveling,” you said quietly, looking past him toward the familiar huts in the high terraces. “I wished to be home for the mean time.”

He stared at you for a moment, sensing the deep, hollow wall you had built around yourself, but he nodded. “Your hut is just as you left it. I had it cleaned regularly. Go on up.”

“Thank you,” you rasped, taking a step up the stairs toward the high terraces.

“I’ll have a feast prepared for tonight to celebrate your return—”

“No,” you cut in quickly, not wanting to be surrounded by noise and laughter. “No feast, Antulo. I am exhausted. I just need to sleep.”

He paused, studying your pale face, before nodding slowly. “Alright. I’ll have your evening meal sent up to your hut. That good to you?”

You didn't answer him. You just turned and began the climb up the stairs to your secluded hut high on the terraces.

When you finally stepped inside the dark, cool space, the quiet had you sinking to your knees on the woven mats, burying your face in your hands, and finally letting the sob tear through your chest.

You were home. You were safe.

But as you curled into a ball, cradling your flat stomach in the dark, you knew the truth that would haunt you for the rest of your days:

The man you fell in love with had never existed. And the child growing inside you was fathered by a fraud.

Back in the Omatikaya, Neteyam walked toward the council longhouse, fully aware that he had betrayed his people. It still felt as if they hadn’t been suspecting him for moons now, watching him fall into what they believed was a trap, shaking their heads as they watched in real time as let himself be fooled by you.

He had denied all of it, eve to himself but he knew in his core, that they were right. He’d like to think that he entered this with his guards built high and out of indestructible stone. But getting to know you, deeper than he had ever intended, had melted those walls into dust. He didn’t know, and hadn’t tracked, where the pretense ended and where his true feelings began.

When the council, his fellow warriors, and the grieving families of those killed by your brother backed him into a corner and called out his closeness to you, his first instinct had been to deny it. He was not a weak-willed man who would be ensnared simply because the enemy threw a woman in his path. He was not a traitor who forgot the spilled blood of his people just because a woman looked up at him with starry, trusting eyes. He had been so fiercely defensive of his honor and resolve that he convinced himself he wouldn't bat an eye if they dragged you out for interrogation.

He had been lying to himself.

He had fallen into your trap. He was a traitor, because ultimately, now that he was forced to choose between his people and you, he will choose you. He had fallen so deeply in love with you that he could not allow you to be punished even for things you probably might have done.

“You have grown comfortable with this woman, Neteyam,” Yantuk, Priya’s father, pointed out in the warrior’s council a week before you were rounded up. “I understand that you are a virile young man, and she is indeed enticeful, but this matter involves the lives of our people. Of my daughter, your good friend. Their lives are not worth the warmth of that woman’s cunt, and I will not have you failing them simply because you have forgotten what she did—”

“I have not forgotten our dead brothers and sisters, Elder Yantuk,” Neteyam interrupted, leveling the man with a dark, steady gaze. “But it seems to me that you have forgotten your honor as a warrior.”

The older man huffed. “I simply wish to know if this is still a mission to you, warrior... Or if you have allowed yourself to be fooled by her?”

Neteyam stared at Yantuk, his expression softening ever so slightly as an image of you smiling flashed in his mind. He couldn't lie through his teeth and say he hadn't fallen, because merely remembering your laugh and your soft smile made his knees go weak. He had fallen, completely and utterly, though he didn't know if that made him a fool.

“It is still a mission,” he lied, sounding like a coward even to himself.

He is a coward. Used to be, he never had to think twice between duty and love. He thought, confidently, that he was his brother’s opposite. Where Lo’ak would have easily chosen love, Neteyam would go for duty. His duty to the people easily comes for him first and foremost. But standing there before the warriors, he didn’t know which duty his heart wanted to answer to.

His duty to the people... or his duty to you? He is a traitor to his people. He knew his heart had long since deserted the Omatikaya. His true loyalty belonged wherever you were.

His only regret was not acting on it sooner. If he was going to betray them for you anyway, why hadn't he broken you out the moment they took you from him? He consider this his primary flaw. He was not like his brother who acted on instinct, followed his heart, and answered to no one. Neteyam had spent his whole life trying to put everyone else’s interests before his own. He thought choosing loyalty to his clan was the honorable thing to do, even if it destroyed him or hurt you in the process.

And what had that cost him? You. He had lost you.

He closed his eyes, shuddering as he remembered how disoriented you were the night he pulled you from the cell. You hadn't even recognized him. Your broken mind had conjured your dead mother to take his place, desperate to feel safe. You had been completely shattered after weeks of relentless questioning. He choked on air, balling his hands into tight fists to stave off the panic attack clawing at his chest. A sickening tremor ran down his spine, making his kuru quiver.

When Neteyam walked into the council longhouse, the elders were already discussing your disappearance. The huntresses guarding you swore you had been there moments prior, speculating that you had used dark magic to escape. Neteyam knew better, he had studied their guarding rotations for days, waiting for the exact moment they left their post.

Before the council could speculate further, Neteyam spoke up, “It was me.” The elders and the seniors warriors all looked at him. Jake merely angled his head toward him, eyeing him with both brows raised. “Further interrogation is pointless. Y/N knows nothing about what we are accusing her of.” he said flatly

Instantly, the room erupted into angered shouts. Yantuk slammed a hand on the wooden table. “I knew it! She got to you!”

Neteyam stood firm. “None of you know her. The only evidence you have against her is that she is Antulo's sister and that she arrived on the day we all expected. But  we knew her travel route! We knew her patterns, so of course we could predict her arrival. Beyond that, we have no proof—”

“And we have no proof she wasn't in on it!” Yantuk countered harshly. “Her brother is the murderer!”

“Should we not listen when she maintains her innocence?” Neteyam demanded, stepping forward. “It has been weeks, and her answer has never changed. If she were guilty, she would have broken under interrogation by now. Are you not afraid, even for a moment, that we are crucifying an innocent woman?”

Yantuk sneered, looking at him as though he couldn't believe everything he was spouting. “And are you only saying this because she opened her thighs for you? Neteyam, she is a whore. That tight warmth getting your head all messed up right can be found in any woman—”

“Enough!“ Jake said from the head of the table, but Neteyam had already launched himself toward the older warrior.

He slammed Yantuk against the wooden support pillar, his hands gripping the elder's shoulders so tightly the wood groaned. His lips peeled back over his fangs, a low, guttural hiss vibrating in his throat.

“Speak of her with that filthy mouth again,” Neteyam snarled through gritted teeth, “and I will beat you senseless in front of this council.”

Yantuk’s eyes widened in sudden, stark shock. He shoved against Neteyam’s chest, but the young warrior remained unyielding, built like a wall of solid stone. He quickly realized it wouldn’t be smart to challenge him. Yantuk spat, “You have lost your mind, boy.”

Neteyam released him with a rough shove.

Around him, three elders rosez deeply offended by his violent outburst and his blatant betrayal to the people. They look down at Neteyam not as an heir, but as a threat.

“This is an outrage!” One of them said with indignation. He pointed a gnarled finger directly at the young warrior.

Beside him, Eytukan's old advisor refused to even look at Neteyam, looking straight at the chief. “He must face the highest discipline of the clan,” the old man demands. “The law is clear. No one stands above the people. Not even the son of the Toruk Makto.”

Neytiri’s face fell at the elder’s judgment, looking at her son with both fear and worry. In contrast, Jake Sully turned to his eldest son calmly, waiting for Neteyam to object, to defend himself, to give any excuse.

Instead, Neteyam simply huffed a breath through his nose as if he couldn’t wait for things to be over. “I will accept any punishment.”

The retribution for a warrior disobeying orders was brutal, and never in his life had Neteyam imagined he would stand on the receiving end of it. Yet, he had never felt more alive. If anyone would ever want to beat him up for what he had allowed to happen to you, he would gladly take every strike. But no one in this clan would punish him for his betrayal of you. So he would welcome every pain and every punishment, knowing it is only a tiny fraction of what he truly deserved.

                                                           ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You sat near the entrance of your hut, relishing the dappled sunlight seeping through the canopy and illuminating the soft plant fibers resting in your lap as you wove a baby blanket.

Your bump was not that obvious to others yet, but the soft, distinct swell of your belly was undeniable to people who know you. You have told no one yet, not your brother, not your grandmother, the Tsahik. You tried desperately not to let the trauma of what happened moons ago ruin your life, but there were just days when the grief dragged you back into the shadows of your mind.

You had cried more over the past few moons than in your entire life. Sometimes they were tears of profound longing for the life you thought you were building. You hated yourself for remembering moments with Neteyam that you thought were real in a favorable light. You missed the man you thought he was. The kind, gentle, and gallant warrior you had envisioned spending your life with. You had loved him. And you had truly believed he loved you back.

Then came the bitter, furious tears. You raged at your own naivety, disgusted by how easily you had been played and how little he had cared for you. He had stood by while they broke you. And then you would turn that anger inward, how could you have expected anything else? As the old warrior had taunted, Neteyam’s heart died the day that woman Priya was killed. How dare you assume there was any room left in him for you? For all you knew, he had wished for your death all along.

You sighed, resting a soft hand over your middle and looking up toward the light breaking through the leaves.

“We will be alright...” you whispered to the tiny life within you.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered how, in those terrifying early days, you had desperately wished you weren't pregnant. Now, you couldn't imagine life without this little ember of hope. I will fill you with so much love, you promised silently, stroking your belly. You will never feel like anything is missing.

“Is that why you came home?”

You jolted, spinning around at the deep voice. Takzur, one of your brother’s closest friends, was leaning against the wooden doorframe.

You scowled, instantly defensive. “Is what why?”

Takzur’s eyes traveled down to your lap, resting squarely on your rounded stomach. “You are with child?” he asked flatly.

You rolled your eyes, pulling your shawl over your lap. “You have no right to ask me that.”

“Does Antulo know?”

“Why are you here?” you demanded, cutting him off.

“Your brother sent me to fetch you for a council meeting.”

“I have no interest in council meetings.”

You turned back to your loom, listening to his footsteps retreating. Most of your days were spent isolated like this. If not for your childhood friends forcing their way into your hut, you likely would have withered away in your own sorrow. They had been the first ones you had reveealed your pregnancy to.

Granted, only Enya had the courage and the loose mouth to dare ask you about the swell in your belly.

“It is because I am pregnant,” you admitted casually, stifling a smile as you continued your weaving.

“What?! With whose baby? Are you serious?!” Enya had shrieked.

“And where? W-Who? Y/N!“ Penxi called, almost as if she’s gearing up to scold you.

Enya gasped, “Oh, you need to tell me the details!” she said in a sing-song voice. “How was it? Did it hurt? Was it actually ticklish? Does it really feel like you are going to explode—”

“Enya!” Scandalized, Penxi stopped her and turned to you.

“Why? These are legitimate questions! Y/N broke our childhood oath. I need to know some details at least!” Enya faced you. “Did you get pregnant the first time?”

Your lips parted. You didn’t know whether to say that pregnancy doesn’t always happen the first time... But that would be admitting that Neteyam had you a countless times before it led to this.

Heat rushed up to your face but you have to clear Enya’s misconceptions. “It... It doesn’t always happen... the first time,” you admitted.

Enya gasped. “Oooh,” she squealed. “So it happened more than once?”

“Enya!” Penxi protested again, palming her increasingly darkening face.

Enya brought her palms together. “Y/N, please!” she begged. “Just a few details!”

You sighed, “Yes, it did happen more than once...” you mumbled and a few snapshots flashed in your treasonous mind that you had to close your eyes for a moment.

“This man must have been something for the resident snob to lose her mind!” Enya teased.

Your face fell for a moment. You knew Enya meant well, she didn’t know what happened, but her words hit you like an arrow to the chest. He was something. He fooled you so well and you did lost your mind.

Penxi gently nudged Enya, her expression softening with genuine concern. “But... Where is he, Y/N? Who is he, and why didn't he come back with you? Is this... the reason you returned?”

You looked up at them with a firmer resolve, your chest tightening. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

They exchanged a quick look, instantly understanding what had prompted you to say that.

“Of course,” Penxi said softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “We are only worried for you. But if you want to leave it in the past, we support you. You have us.”

Enya nodded vigorously. “I always thought I’d be the first to have a baby among us! I mean, I had plenty of crushes in the past and I had that rebellious streak with Krikhir, but now we are getting a mini Y/N! I’m going to spoil this baby so much!”

You let out a soft laugh then, pressing a hand to your stomach. “I never imagined this for myself either... but now, I can't imagine my life without this little pea.”

“Motherhood suits you,” Penxi smiled. “And remember. This baby will be raised by all of us. You will never be alone, and you will never need that man.”

Tears welled in your eyes, moving to pull them both in a warm embrace. You all stayed at the lake until sundown before walking back to the village. The sight of Antulo standing at the base of the stone terraces, deep in conversation with an elder warrior welcomed you. His eyes locked onto you as you approached.

You watched your brother. You knew what the Omatikaya had accused him of, but in all the moons since your return, he had shown no signs of the cold-blooded murderer they claimed he was. Still, you knew that to get answers from him, you had to offer something in return.

“You two go ahead,” you told Penxi and Enya, who were walking alongside you. “I need to speak with my brother.”

Enya took the fiber basket from your arms, giving you an encouraging smile before walking away with Penxi. As you walked toward Antulo, the elder warrior he was speaking with knew he’d have to excuse himself. Your brother’s eyes tracked you up and down, his gaze lingering on your stomach with a mixture of disbelief, frustration, and sharp concern.

“Was our clan food generally just that good, or is there something you aren't telling me?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light despite his tense jaw.

“I am pregnant,” you said flatly, not in the mood for jokes.

You saw his nostrils flared for a fraction.He closed his eyes for a brief second, taking a slow breath before looking at you directly. “Who is the bastard? Where is he? Why did he let you travel back to our lands alone in that condition? And what clan is he from?”

Under different circumstances, his rapid-fire questions might have made you laugh. Today, it only made your chest ache.

“I do not wish to discuss him,” you said firmly. “My child does not need a father.”

Antulo searched your face, reading the cold finality in your eyes. He nodded slowly. “It did not end well, then.”

“It did not,” you agreed, raising your chin. “So tell me now... Are you going to support me, or cast me out for bearing a child outside the mating bond?”

Antulo scoffed. “You are my sister, Y/N. I would never cast out any woman of our clan for this, let alone you. You never have to ask for my protection. It has been yours since the day you were born.” He took a step forward and pulled you into a firm, one-armed embrace

Buried against your brother’s shoulder, the weight of the past few moons finally broke through your defenses. A sob tore from your throat, and you wept openly into his chest. Hearing his unconditional fierce love made you realize how impossible the Omatikaya's claims are. Your brother could not have done it... he just couldn't.

“Stop crying,” Antulo grumbled gently, though his own voice sounded thick with emotion. “Or I will be forced to hunt that man down and break every bone in his body.”

You let out a breathless laugh against his shoulder. “I might just let you...”

As it turned out, Antulo didn't need to hunt him down.

Because a moon later, that man brought himself directly to your lands.

You were returning from the nearby lake, carrying a woven basket filled with washed baby blankets, when you saw him.

He was standing so comfortably near the edge of the lower village commons, looking so surreal that for a split second, you thought your mind was playing tricks on you again. But then his head turned. His golden eyes locked onto yours, and your heart plummeted straight into your stomach.

You froze, a sharp gasp catching in your throat.

The fear lingering in your veins quickly flared into white-hot anger when you saw the expression on his face: a look of profound, agonizing relief. You hated him for it. You hated that he had the nerve to look relieved, as if he had any right to care whether you were alive or dead. He was a good pretender, after all, of course he could fake relief.

You stood rooted to the spot, your mind reeling. You hated how much power his presence still held over you, hated how your pulse raced and your hands trembled despite all the moons you had spent trying to scrub his memory from your mind.

“Y/N...” Neteyam breathed, taking a hesitant step forward.

Instinctively, you took a step back, your posture stiffening into a defensive stance.

Neteyam halted instantly, his heart breaking at the fear on your face but it was when his eyes swept over you that his very own breath choked him. He caught the unmistakable swell of your stomach. He swallowed, feeling like time had stopped and momentarily paralyzed him.

He tore his eyes away, looking up to your face instead, only to see fear in it, your ears pinning back to the sides of your head and your eyes looking at him with, devoid of all the warmth, joy, and pure innocence that were always there when you looked at him.

He had broken you. He had handed you over to your tormentors. So what does he expect? He had spent countless sleepless nights agonizing over what would happen when he saw you again, consumed by a guilt so suffocating he could barely function. He knew there was no forgiveness for what he had done. He had betrayed your trust when he should have listened to his instincts and fought for you.

For the first time in his life, Neteyam wished he were like Lo’ak. He wished he had his brother’s reckless courage to defy everyone, to abandon duty, and to choose love without second-guessing himself. He wished, with all of him, that he had any courage in him at all... to choose love over duty. His duty shouldn't have been to the council's blind pursuit of vengeance. The moment he fell in love with you, his ultimate duty should have been to protect you.

The weight of his regret was made a thousand times worse by the truth they had recently uncovered. Further intelligence had led him to the actual truth. One that not only proves your innocence, but that of your brother’s as well. The truth was that the Omatikaya had been feeding on the crumbs of a third-party that was framing your brother for whatever reason. You and your brother had been nothing but innocent.

You, most especially. The pain, regret, and guilt that had engulfed him for moons had only intensified so much, sometimes he could barely breathe.

He had wished to see you again. He had wanted to apologize to you but nothing he thought of doing felt right or sufficient. He hurt you so much and he couldn't see you forgiving him at all, and he doesn't think he would like you to forgive him. He doesn't deserve it, but he desperately needed to see you, to ensure you were safe. He wanted to be near you.

And... he didn't know if he was even allowed to have such a favor and luxury.

They had been communicating with your brother since the last moons, informing him about what they know, and how he was being framed for things he didn't commit. They had a good lead that the culrprit was in your clan, and that they are going to help him find out who it was. You would have known all of these, if only you would talk to your brother about the council meetings he’s been having in the last moons.

Now, you have completely no idea about what was going on.

Neteyam’s small delegation of warriors arrived just hours ago, and you weren't home because you were out by the lake, and now you were confronted with the sight of him here.

The last thing you would have expected.

“Y/N!”

A loud, familiar voice shattered the tension hanging between you two. Takzur jogged up from the path behind Neteyam, carrying a bundle of hunting gear.

Relief flooded your chest at the sight of a familiar face. As Takzur reached you, you instinctively stepped closer to him, using his tall frame as a shield to block Neteyam from your sight.

“Where have you been, hm?” Takzur asked smoothly, taking the heavy basket of blankets from your hands.

Takzur glanced over at Neteyam, offering a respectful nod before turning back to you.

“A delegation of Omatikaya warriors arrived for trade and security talks a while ago. This is Neteyam, son of Toruk Makto.”

You kept your eyes fixed on Takzur, refusing to glance at Neteyam. “I feel dizzy,” you lied, placing a hand on Takzur’s forearm.

Takzur chuckled warmly, resting a hand briefly on top of your head in a comforting gesture. “Do you want me to carry you?”

“No. I can walk,” you muttered, already turning away.

Takzur offered Neteyam an apologetic, awkward grin. “Apologies, warrior. She’s not in the best mood today. Pregnant women, you know how it is,” he joked lightly, guiding you up the stone path toward the village.

Neteyam remained rooted to the spot, watching you walk away. His eyes lingered on the way Takzur held your arm, guiding you with an easy, practiced familiarity.

Five moons, Neteyam thought, his mind racing. You two had been separated for only five moons. But looking at the size of your belly, it looked small... As if new, like a bloom that had only recently begun to show. A heavy, crushing realization settled into his chest, shattering whatever remained of his heart.

He had never felt entirely defeated. He had told himself not to hope, told himself he would accept whatever hatred you threw at him, but seeing you walk away with another man was worst than drowning. He was here to help your brother, but deep down, a selfish part of him had hoped he could somehow earn a second chance. But now, he realized that if it were impossible then, it is even more impossible now.

Meanwhile, instead of returning to your hut, you headed straight for the longhouse, your dizziness act forgotten in a surge of defensive anger. You pushed past the woven entrance flaps, interrupting Antulo in the middle of a discussion with two clan elders.

“Antulo,” you demanded, your voice cold and sharp.

Recognizing your tone, the elders quickly excused themselves, leaving the two of you alone.

“What is it?” Antulo asked.

“Why are there outsiders in our lands?” you replied in a biting tone.

Antulo sighed, leaning back against a carved pillar. “If you actually attended council meetings, Y/N, you wouldn't look so surprised. The Omatikaya are here on an important matter. A third party has been using my name to cover their crimes, framing our clan for the murders off our borders. The son of Toruk Makto is here because they believe the actual traitor is hiding among our people.”

You let out a harsh, bitter laugh. An Omatikaya 'hunch', you thought bitterly. “Yeah, they could be trusted,” you said sarcastically. “You opened our borders to them. You don’t even know them..How do you know this isn't a ploy to infiltrate our lands?”

Antulo stared at you, genuinely taken aback by your hostility. “Y/N, I know you’ve been through a difficult time, but I have never seen you this paranoid. You used to be welcoming. I need your trust on this. My honor and our clan’s safety are at stake. If there is a traitor among us, I will not rest until they are brought to justice.”

You stared at your brother, a cold realization washing over you. He really was innocent. The Omatikaya had been wrong all along.

The trauma, the isolation, the agony you had endured in that dark cell, it had all been for nothing. Based on baseless suspicions, Neteyam had allowed them to break you. A fresh wave of rage and betrayal burned through your veins.

“Fine,” you spat, turning toward the exit. “Just keep them away from the upper terraces. I do not want them anywhere near my home.”

“I’ll make sure they stay in the lower quarters,” Antulo agreed easily.

You turned and marched out of the longhouse, only to nearly collide with Neteyam, who was standing just outside the longhouse.

Your eyes narrowed into furious slits. “What are you doing here? Eavesdropping? Looking for more false evidence to use against my brothe—”

“Y/N!” Antulo hurried out behind you, horrified by you confronting Neteyam. “Y/N, control yourself! I apologize for my sister, Neteyam te Suli. She is not usually like this.”

You aggressively shoved Antulo’s hand off your elbow, throwing one last glare at Neteyam before turning on your heel and heading up the stone steps toward the upper terraces. You hated that you had to look over your shoulder now, hated that his presence invaded your home. But then you reminded yourself: You belonged here. He was the outsider. He should look out so you two won’t run into each other. He should be careful of his moves.

In the days and weeks that followed, you did everything in your power to avoid him. But living in a terrace village made total avoidance nearly impossible.

One afternoon, while walking back from the weaving looms, Neteyam stepped into your path. He kept his distance, his posture stiff, but the profound sorrow in his golden eyes was impossible to hide and it only annoyed you.

“How are you faring?” he asked quietly when you actually stopped to face him.

You stared at him, a biting sneer curling your lips as you stepped closer to him. “What gives you the right to ask me that? You really have no shame, do you? After what you and your people did to me based on nothing but blind assumptions, you have the audacity to stand here and act concerned?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides, but he remained silent, taking every word.

“The only thing I am grateful for,” you said, leaning in, your voice dropping into a whisper, “is that my child is not fathered by a man so comfortable with cruelty. My child will never know a people as vile as yours.”

Neteyam’s head reared back a little as though you clawed him, his gaze shifting away as he forced himself to swallow the sharp pain in his throat.

“I will do you a favor and not tell my brother what you and your people did to me,” you continued. “In return, you will stay away from me. You will not speak to me. You will not look at me. If you see me walking down a path, you will turn around and take another. Do your job here quietly, and when you are finished, leave.”

You brushed past him, leaving him standing alone on the stone path.

Once you rounded the corner and out of his sight, your knees buckled slightly. You leaned against the cool wall, gasping for breath as a painful knot tightened in your chest. You hated that saying those cruel words hadn't brought you any satisfaction. You hated that a part of you still cared, still wondered if your harsh words had hurt him, or if he was simply too cold to care.

Despite your strict warning, Neteyam could not bring himself to stay away entirely.

Unable to speak to you, he began helping you from the shadows. You had no idea that he was the one refilling the heavy water barrels outside your hut every morning, or the person behind your infinitely softer bedding and the perfectly split, dry firewood stacked neatly by your door was him. He tracked your daily routines from afar. Whenever you left a heavy basket of woven goods to rest, he would quietly move it closer to your destination when you weren't looking.

He hunted relentlessly, seeking out iron-dense preys and rare river fish known to be nourishing for pregnant women. He befriended a cook to ensure the prime cuts were always included in your daily meals. And though Omatikaya warriors were forbidden from entering the upper terraces, Neteyam spent his nights perched high in the branches of the massive tree overlooking the village, his longbow in hand, watching over your hut while you slept.

To people who are not paying attention, which are most of them, these acts are not very obvious. But for Enya, whose wandering eyes have followed the outsiders for moons now, it warranted bringing up a very important matter.

“I’m telling you, Y/N, that Omatikaya warrior is completely taken with you!” Enya squealed, leaning in close. “I’ve been watching him and I have observed that he is extremely attentive of you. Remember dinner the other night? You found it hard to sit on the hard mat, and then by breakfast the next day… There was a soft cushion left at your usual spot.”

She looked at you expectedly, waiting for you to connect the dots but you merely looked at her. You knew she was talking about Neteyam... But you do not wish to acknowledge it, nor feed her imagination that you knew what she was talking about.

“I saw him put that on your seat when I was preparing at the kitchens!” she said. “And… I learned that he is friends with Krikhir. I used some charms to get Krikhir to tell me stuff and he told me this warrior has been supplying the kitchens with the largest games he's ever seen,” she told you with wide eyes, nodding.

“And so this warrior… is a good hunter?” Penxi trailed.

Enya sighed. “No… Krikhir told me the warrior was specifically asking him to cook the best parts of every meat he brings for Y/N. The best part for pregnant women, anyway…” she shrugs, stifling a huge smile as she looks at you.

Penxi frowned slightly, looking up from her thread. “Wait... isn't that a little creepy? What is his deal? Which warrior are we talking about?”

Enya giggled. “Oh, Great Mother! There he is…” she squealed through her slightly parted lips. “One thing I also noticed, Y/N,” she leaned forward. “Is that he is everywhere you are. Just yesterday, when you walked down the lake, I saw him follow you!”

You turned your head, already knowing who you would see. Neteyam was sitting on a high rock, adjusting the fletching on his arrows but with a practiced, and sneaky move, his head angled toward where you are and your eyes met. He quickly looked away and focused intently on his bow.

“He is reputable and handsome, certainly,” Penxi said slowly, her sharp eyes scanning Neteyam's tense posture from afar. “But don't you find this behavior concerning? He doesn't know you, Y/N, and you are clearly pregnant—”

“So what?” Enya argued playfully. “Some men find pregnant women attractive!”

“That isn't my point,” Penxi countered, her tone growing serious as she looked at you. “What if he has ulterior motives? What if he’s watching you for a reason?”

Her words struck a chord of interest in your chest. Your ears perked up. “You think so?” you asked softly, glancing back toward Neteyam and catching him looking your way again. He quickly looked away though. “Does he have that aura?”

You trust Penxi’s judgment, of course. She was always the most observant of your group. Hearing her express doubt about Neteyam’s intentions reinforced the cold wall you had built around your heart. You had been foolish enough to trust him once. You wouldn't make that mistake again.

“Not really. I mean, based only on his actions. But it could also be that he simply has a soft spot for expectant mothers,” she said. “Maybe he has a pregnant mate back home?”

A sudden, sharp sting of heat rushed to your face and ears. The mental image of Neteyam returning home to a loving, pregnant woman sent an unexpected wave of bitter irritation crashing through you. You hated how much the thought bothered you. You should not care, yet the idea of him offering another woman the love and gentleness he had fake-offered you made your blood boil.

That night, the bitter thoughts kept you tossing and turning

You groaned in frustration, struggling to push yourself up into a sitting position as your heavy belly weighed you down. You are eight moons along, with a remaining four moons to go and you’re feeling it more than ever now that your belly had ballooned twice as large as it used to be in the beginning. Seeking fresh air to clear your head, you stepped out onto the wooden platform outside your hut.

Your eyes instinctively darted toward the high branches of the tree, the spot Enya had mentioned she saw the warrior on.

Your breath hitched.

He was actually there. Neteyam was perched comfortably on a high branch overlooking your hut, a half-eaten piece of fruit in one hand and his bow resting on his lap. The moment he sensed movement in your hut, his head snapped in your direction, his golden eyes wide and instantly alert, scanning you to see if you were in distress.

He made no move to approach, remaining motionless in the canopy, waiting silently to see if you needed anything.

You stared up at him for a long, heavy moment, your heart hammering against your ribs. Then, with a furious huff, you turned around, stomped back into the safety of your hut, and let the heavy woven flap snap shut behind you.

You stood inside your hut, your hand resting over the firm curve of your belly as you stared down at the sliver of moonlight on the floor. Your mind was a storm, wild and relentless. Driven by a surge of frustration you couldn't control, you turned and stepped back out onto the platform.

This time, Neteyam didn't wait.

The moment he saw your shadow, he moved. He dropped down from the high canopy with unmatched grace. He walked forward until he reached the base of your terrace steps, stopping precisely as though an invisible barrier stood between you, one he set and dared not cross.

“Is there anything you need?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching your face in the dim light.

Your jaw clenched tight. “Yes,” you hissed, your voice laced with venom. “I need you to remember what I told you the last time we spoke. I told you to stay away from me. I told you that if you saw me, you were to turn around and take a different path. I told you never to speak to me, and never to look at me.”

His breathing hitched. “I cannot do that, Y/N,” he said. His tone was firm, but laced with plea, as though protesting your words without daring to push against your boundary. “You can ask for anything else, and I will give it to you without question. But do not ask me to blind myself to you. Looking at you... it is the only thing I have left.”

You stared at him. The quiet vulnerability did not soften you at all. It only ignited your fury.

“What makes you think you have the right to have anything from me?” you snapped, taking a sharp step toward the edge of the platform. “If you were not here on my brother's business, I would have had you driven from our lands the moment you arrived! I know what you are, I know how dangerous you are!”

You leaned over the railing, your eyes blazing into his. “So do as I said. Stop following me around like a foolish pet, stop hovering in the trees, and finish whatever work you came here to do!”

Neteyam’s gaze dropped to the ground, his posture settling into that of a disciplined warrior accepting a harsh reprimand. You saw the tight bulge of a muscle in his jaw as he gritted his teeth against the pain of your words.

You tilted your head, sneering. “Or are you even doing your job at all? You have been here for moons, yet you have brought my brother no closer to the traitor. Are you truly this incompetent, or are you simply lying again?”

Neteyam swallowed hard, looking up just enough to meet your eyes. “I am working with your brother every day. The traitor has buried their tracks, but we are closing in. I am moving as quickly as I can.”

You wanted him gone. You wanted him far away from your clan, far away from you... Or so you kept telling yourself. Yet, as his words sank in, a traitorous pang struck your chest. You crushed the feeling instantly, hardening your face into a mask of cold indifference.

“Good,” you said sharply. “The sooner you finish, the sooner you can return to whoever is waiting for you back home.”

Neteyam’s eyes snapped up, catching the familiar tone lacing your voice. A sudden flash of realization hit him, and he spoke quickly, desperate to clear the air.

“There is no one waiting for me back home,” he said, his voice dropping into an earnest, urgent murmur. “I mean... aside from my family. My parents and my siblings.”

You scowled, wrapping your shawl tighter around your shoulders. “I did not ask,” you cut in coldly. “And I do not care. So remember what I told you.”

Without waiting for his reply, you turned on your heel and retreated into your hut.

Outside, Neteyam stood alone in the dark. He let out a long, heavy breath, shifting his weight as he stared at the closed woven flap. The weight of your words settled over him like vines. He couldn't even look at you anymore without driving you further away.

So he obeyed your strict command. He stayed out of your sight, he found a higher branch on the tree directly above your hut, and he watched your activities from afar, putting more stealth in his actions. He knew your daily routine better than anyone. He knew that by mid-morning, your lower back began to ache terribly from the weight of your belly, forcing you to sit frequently while carrying out your weaving. He knew that the stone benches near the upper weaving terrace were cold, hard, and lacked support.

Before the sun even rose, while the village was still draped in dawn mist, Neteyam climbed the upper terraces to take a hand-carved wooden frame he had spent the previous nights crafting in secret. He padded it with thick, layered pelts of hexapede hide, the softest, warmest fur known to retain heat. He bound it securely to the stone bench where you always sat, angling the backrest precisely to support the curve of your spine.

When you arrived at the looms hours later, you stopped in your tracks, your eyes catching sight of the the bench tailored so meticulously for your comfort that even Penxi gasped in quiet approval.

“Well,” Enya murmured, running a hand over the plush, impossibly soft fur. “Whoever made this certainly knows how much your back has been hurting...”

You stared at the seat, your mouth setting into a tight line. You knew immediately who had done it. You wanted to refuse it out of spite, to sit on the cold stone instead, but a sudden kick brought a sharp ache down your spine. You whimpered, caressing your belly and sighing.

Alright, little one, you thought. I’m not going to ignore your father’s handiwork.

You sat down and the relief was instantaneous, supporting your belly and easing the pressure on your lower back so thoroughly that a quiet, involuntary sigh slipped past your lips.

Yards away, hidden deep within the foliage of a high watch-ridge, Neteyam leaned against a tree trunk, watching. A faint, sad semblance of a smile touched his lips when he saw you settle back into the cushions and caress your round belly. His face crumpled a little, his hand balling into fist. He had no one to blame but himself. This is exactly why he doesn’t deserve you. He can’t even heed what you asked him to... In the end, he is still selfish, as selfish as he was when he fell in love with you and took you to bed knowing what his people wanted him to do.

To take his mind away from his thoughts, he spends his late afternoons in the lower village with Krikhir and the village cooks, preparing specialized broths. He brought the meat and spent hours rendering down bone marrows. He steep-brewed rare mountain herbs that the Omatikaya healers used to ease late-stage pregnancy swelling, and hand-filtered the liquid until it was smooth and rich.

“Heat this up and give it to her with her evening meal,” Neteyam told Krikhir flatly, offering the cook a fine obsidian blade as payment for his silence.

Krikhir nodded, smirking as he watched the serious, towering warrior. “I am puzzled, my friend,“ he said. “Do you know Y/N before you came here? I mean, you’re so nice to her. Well, not that you shouldn’t be. She’s really kind. I used to get bullied in the past, but because she was kind to me, the kids saw me differently.”

Neteyam stared at him. “How was she like? When she was younger,” he asked quietly.

Krikhir busied himself with chopping the meat. “She’s a snob,“ he said. “But never in a bad way. She’s a snob mostly to obnoxious boys. I’m one of the exceptions, simply because I’m smaller for my age and was usually the...” he shrugs. “Victim of the bigger boys.”

Neteyam nodded, stifling a smile. You do have that in you... Defending the defenseless.

Krikhir shook his head. “I just don’t know what type of man got to know someone like Y/N and decided... she’s not worth being with. So, I’m glad you’re doing this for her,” he said.

Neteyam gritted his teeth, nodding silently. He wanted to tell Krikhir it was him, that he was facing the very man he was talking about. But he didn’t want to risk Krikhir getting mad at him and refusing to do his biddings.

“Thank you, Krikhir...” he said, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You are a good friend.”

                                                         ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

As more moons passed, you found yourself more and more drawn to the sight and sound of children laughing and playing in the lower grounds. You sit under the afternoon sun, surrounded by a small circle of young mothers and wide-eyed children. The little ones giggled as you traced figures in the dirt, telling them ancient fables of the forest, but as the children eventually scattered to play, the conversation shifted.

The mothers began sharing quiet stories about late-night feedings, of struggles with a newborn, and of how their mates had carried them through the overwhelming early days of newborn life.

“I do not know what I would have done without Vatru in those first few weeks,” one of the women murmured, gently bouncing her infant. She looked at you with eyes full of genuine, aching sympathy. “It breaks my heart that you must navigate this alone, Y/N. New motherhood is a heavy path to walk without a mate to share the load.”

You offered a practiced, quiet smile and assured them you would manage. After all, you had your brother, your grandmother, and your fiercely loyal friends.

Yet, when you finally returned to the solitude of your hut that evening, the heavy silence pressed into your chest. The armor you wore all day fractured, and tears escaped, rolling down your cheeks.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

When you had given yourself to Neteyam, you had truly believed in the future you were building. You had loved him with every fiber of your being. And none of it was real. He was doing it for the woman he loved. He was enduring you for her. Just as the warrior said, it indeed must have taken great patience to not strangle you on sight.

Now, it suffocates you to think that this overwhelming care he is showing you now is simply an attempt to scrub the blood of guilt from his conscience. You stroked the heavy roundness of your belly, sobbing quietly into the dimness. You wished, with a desperate ache, that you had met him under ordinary circumstances. Without clans at war, without blood debts, and without his devastating betrayal. You hated that even given the choice to erase him entirely to spare yourself this agony, your heart still wished for him... just in a world where everything happened differently.

But perhaps even then, it would be a fool's dream. Because he still wouldn't love you enough for things to go the way you want it to.

The weight of all your thoughts woke you up before dawn and you were thankful for that. Over the moons he had been in your village, you had quietly mapped his routine. You knew he would come before sunrise to replenish your firewood today, and you decided it had to end. You did not want his penance. You did not want him working himself to exhaustion just to buy a quiet conscience.

Standing near the woven flap, you waited. Neteyam was a good warrior, he had mastered stealth, his movements were so ghostly you were not even sure if he was already there when you threw the flap open. You saw Neteyam froze, a towering stack of freshly split logs held effortlessly in his arms. The moment his eyes met yours, he instinctively looked away, honoring your command even while caught in the act.

Your jaw clenched, white-hot frustration flaring in your veins. “From now on, you will stop doing this,” you said, your tone dropping into a quiet coldness.

Neteyam’s head snapped back, his eyes pleading. “Y/N, please. I cannot. The wood is damp from the valley fog, and you need these for the—”

“Stop. Doing. It,” you cut in, emphasizing every word. “I do not want your pity. I do not want your hollow guilt. I do not want you easing your restless mind just because you chopped some wood and lifted a few water barrels. I suggest you keep every bit of that guilt, let it burn in you so you make better choices the next time you decide to hurt someone.“

Neteyam stood entirely still, watching you and feeling the beginning of a tremor starting in his gut. He wanted to throw up from fear. It feels like the universe is taking from him everything he could possibly do to make it up to you. He knew he would never be with you again, but it feels like he keeps getting kicked to the ground. So just this once, he wants to speak.

“I am not doing this out of pity, Y/N. I love you. I love you so much and if I could rip my heart out to show you how—”

“I do not believe you,” you cut him off, even though your heart staggered and soared at his words. You knew it is all the more you needed to reject this. “I will never believe you again, Neteyam.”

Before he could say another word, you let the flap fall shut, cutting him off completely.

The next two moons bled into one another in a haze of quiet isolation within your grandmother’s hut. Since you are alone in your hut, your grandmother didn’t think it safe for you to spend the crucial moons of your pregnancy alone. You are thankful to be in her company, though she doesn’t talk much and spends most of the day in the healing pavilion.

The Tsahik knew far too much for a woman of her years, yet she possessed a rare, merciful silence. Unlike the rest of the village, she never pried about the man who had left his mark on your soul and your swell, nor did she press you for the reason you chose to stay. You had never cared for the healing arts before, always preferring stories about travelling and the other clans, but sitting beside her and watching her aged hands work herbs while your mind drifted toward the man you ordered to stay away from you was better than sitting alone in your hut.

Based on your brother’s words in passing, you knew the hunt for the traitor was nearing its end. You rarely see Neteyam these days... And because you live with your grandmother now, firewood and water are things you no longer need. Though you had demanded for him to stop his labors, you found yourself hypocritically yearning for the specialized meals he commissions Krikhir for you.

You missed him. The truth burned like bile in your throat, but you could not scrub him from your mind.

You passed a thread of fiber through a loop, sighing as laying out the tiny loincloth properly on your lap. You were seated on a flat stone by the lake, killing time before you go to the healing pavilion for your back massage, when the silent was shattered by Tarzuk who came tearing through the reeds, his face a twisted mask of panic.

“Y/N! You must come. It is your brother and Neteyam!” Tarzuk gasped, his breath ragged. “They were ambushed near the northern border! They are gravely wounded!”

Panic seized your chest, completely drowning out the heavy, dull ache in your lower back. “The healers, call the elders at the pavilion!”

“I already did! But you need to see him now” Tarzuk grabbed your wrist, pulling you up. “Antulo might not make the night!”

Disoriented and terrified, you stumbled after him, your hands desperately cradling your heavy belly as the sharp terrain tore at your feet. “What happened, Tarzuk? Who attacked them?”

“A rogue Omatikaya squad came and asked to speak with Neteyam,” he said, guiding you deeper into the dense brush. “But they attacked us. They shot Neteyam and they shot your brother when he tried to fight back.”

You gasped, his fear affecting you so much that your mind began to create brutal images that made your knees weak. You felt your belly tightened, feeling a sharp pain start between your legs.

“Their leader wore an orange-dyed chest piece—”

“Yantuk...” the name slipped from your lips in a horrified whisper.

Tarzuk nodded frantically, pulling you into a secluded clearing near the ridge line. You expected to see your bloodied brother and Neteyam, but there were no wounded warriors bleeding on the moss.

The only ones standing in the shadow were the rogue Omatikaya warriors he spoke of. In the middle was Yantuk himself, flanked by six armed Omatikaya men. You froze, the blood running cold in your veins as Yantuk’s eyes landed squarely on the high curve of your stomach, filled of hatred.

“Is that Neteyam’s?” Yantuk growled, his fangs bared in a snarl. “You truly took everything from my daughter, you wretched little whore.”

“I didn’t take anything from your daughter!” you snapped back. “I am not the reason she’s dead—”

You gasped when an arrow struck near your foot. You stepped back, your knuckles turning white against your belly, but Tarzuk’s firm grip on your shoulder blocked your retreat.

“I suggest you take this mini reunion on the road back. We don’t have the luxury of time,” Tarzuk said behind you, his voice devoid of any previous panic. “

I delivered her as promised. Now fulfill your end of the bargain. Get Antulo and Neteyam off my back. Kill them, and leave the leadership of this clan to me.”

Your head swiveled to Tarzuk in absolute horror. “Tarzuk... why are you doing this?” your voice broke at the betrayal.

Tarzuk scoffed. “Because your brother is weak and lacks the vision to make our clan powerful,” he answered. “I would have taken you as my mate once Antulo was gone, but you had to go and get yourself knocked up like a common whore.”

“My brother will kill you for this,” you whispered, trembling.

Tarzuk offered a dark, lopsided grin. “I’ll beat him to—”

A heavy whistling sound sliced through the air, and a massive arrow struck Tarzuk clean through the side of the neck. He choked, blood spurting from his lips as he collapsed like a felled tree. You gasped, stepping back and ducking without thinking. You protected your bump with both your arms, your eyes widening when you saw Yantuk fell on the ground, a large arrow cleanly pierced on his chest.

From the surrounding canopy, your clan’s warriors descended, quickly overwhelming Yantuk’s remaining men. Before you could process the Omatikaya falling one by one, strong, familiar arms wrapped around you: Rushed, frantic, yet impossibly gentle.

“Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” Neteyam’s voice was a ragged murmur against your hair as his hands hovered over your body, frantically checking for wounds.

You shook your head, staring up at him in dazed shock, your own eyes sweeping his frame to ensure he wasn't bleeding out as Tarzuk had claimed. “I... I am unhurt.”

He let out a shaky, shuddering breath, his touch lingering on your arms for a split second before he yanked his hands back as if burned, stepping away as he remembered your orders. You lifted your eyes up to look at him, but Antulo rushed in, pulling you into a fierce embrace. Over your brother's shoulder, your eyes locked with Neteyam’s who were watching your intently.

The moment your gazes met though, he immediately looked away, his jaw clenching as he retreated into the background. The mission was over. The traitor was dead. He had no reason to stay anymore.

That night, as you sat on your wooden platform, leaning against the fur-padded backrest Neteyam had built, Antulo walked up the steps to your hut.

“The Omatikaya will leave at dawn,” Antulo said quietly, rubbing his tired face. “Tarzuk played us all. He worked with Yantuk to manufacture a war so he could seize power.”

You stared at nothing. You remembered his genuine hatred toward you and how it nearly made you believe you did everything they were telling you you did. He pinned his own daughter's death on you, even when he knows that his own doing caused her death. It takes a different level of evil to achieve that.

You tried to take a deep breath, but a sudden, terrifyingly sharp cramp seized your lower abdomen. You gasped, doubling over as your hand slammed onto your stomach.

Antulo’s eyes widened in panic. “What is it?”

“Contraction again, I think...” you gasped out, sweat instantly breaking on your forehead.

“Again?” Antulo echoed in horror.

You nodded, and without another word, Antulo scooped you into his arms so fast you weren’t even able to stop him. He raced toward the Tsahik’s pavilion in record time.

You might not think it too grave, but the stress of the ambush had shattered your body’s delicate balance. Labor hit you quickly and violently, that for hours, you hung onto the thick fiber ropes suspended from the ceiling, screaming through contractions that felt as though your pelvis was being ground into dust. The elder healers held your knees wide, shouting at you to push, warning that the child was massive and you need to push properly so there wouldn’t be complications.

You didn't care about the pain. You only cared about the fear clawing at your throat. You hadn’t thought about complications at all throughout your pregnancy and you feared that you had been too comfortable.

Memory flashed unbidden through your mind, of a quiet night moons ago, lying naked against Neteyam’s chest, tracing the beautiful bioluminescent patterns on his skin as your other hand caressed the base of his head.

He was a hybrid, he told you so when you pointed out how his kuru was at the base of his head and not on top like the average Na’vi. You had been laying together for many times already before you had the courage to ask about something so personal.

“It is beautiful anyway,” you mumbled, your hand caressing his kuru now as you moved your naked body closer to him. “I am only curious.”

He smiled, kissing your chin. “I got it from my father,” he told you then. “He is... different from a Na’vi. He is an avatar.”

“Avatar?” you echoed and he grinned at your accent, rising to drop a hard kiss on your lips.

“Like norm. You remember him?“ he asked, his hand caressing the curve on your waist.

You nodded. “He has five fingers... Like Kiri,” you mumbled.

“My brother Lo’ak does, too,“ he said. “It is in our genes now, I think.”

You nodded, your other hand tracing the bioluminescent freckles on his chest.

“Does that bother you?” he asked, his lips brushing your jaw and kissing your cheek like he couldn’t get enough.

“What does?” you asked, your heart hammering against your chest as you looked into his eyes.

“That i have such a gene. I am not fully Na’vi... And I will pass it down,” he said, his eyes earnest and worried.

You both know then what he was talking about even without explicitly saying it. He is genuinely worried you were bothered about his alien genetics, that you wouldn’t want it for your own children.

You breathlessly huffed, a small smile cutting through your lips as you shook your head. “No, it doesn’t. It doesn't, Neteyam,” you said, propping yourself on your elbow to hover over him. His hand clamped around your nape and pulled you down for a kiss.

“Push, Y/N! Push now!” your grandmother’s commanding voice snapped you back to the agony of the present.

With a final, chest-heaving scream, you gave everything you had. The pressure yielded, and your baby slipped into the world.

You collapsed back onto the mats, panting heavily as a triumphant smile blooming on your lips, until you realized the pavilion had fallen dead silent.

There was no cry.

Horror spiked through your veins. You sat up, ignoring the pain in your body. Your grandmother was near the washing basin, holding a massive, beautiful newborn, easily the size of a two-moon-old child.

“A boy,” she announced softly.

You tracked his body. He was breathing, his little chest heaving, but he was making no sound. Your eyes frantically mapped his tiny body, and there it was. At the base of his skull sat a low-set kuru and folded tightly against his chest were two tiny hands, each bearing five fingers.

The elder healers gasped when your grandmother lowered him for you. They backed away with expressions of absolute horror.

“Give him to me,” you asked, your voice breaking into a sob.

Your grandmother placed the quiet babe in your arms. Aside from the kuru and the fingers, he looked every bit a Na’vi. You lowered your head and touched your forehead to his, smiling as tears of exhaustion filled your eyes. The baby took a deep breath before letting out a sudden wail. You caressed his soft head, desperate to soothe him. Your grandmother took your kuru as she guided your son’s head to your breast. She brought your kuru to touch the boy’s, seeking to form the mother’s bond to regulate his frantic system..

The moment the tendrils touched though, the baby shuddered. His bioluminescent spots flickered erratically, almost choking as he began to cry again

Your grandmother instantly severed the connection, her eyes filled with fear and uncertainty.

“What is wrong? Why did that happen?” you asked, your voice breaking as you clutched your babe to your bare chest.

“He is not Na’vi!” one of the elder healers hissed, pointing a trembling finger. “His kuru and his fingers—”

“Silence, Zaknar!” your grandmother roared, her eyes flashing with deadly authority. “Out! All of you, leave us now!”

The healers immediately vacated the pavilion. Your grandmother knelt beside you, looking at the sniffling babe with a heavy, mournful expression.

“It is the first time I encountered something like this, truly, Y/N,” she said. “But you see... Your boy is different. He does not recognize your bond, I would wager, and it would be painful for him if we force it.” she explained softly.

You stared at her before your eyes lowered down to your son who is eagerly latching from your breast. His eyes were closed but there were tears on the side of them.

“I thought I was wrong because he was leaving,” she said, tilting her head. “But he is the father, isn’t he?”

You swallowed, nodding without taking your eyes off your boy.

“I thought so,” she mused in a humored tone. “I saw the way he looked at you... And I am not blind.”

You sniffled. “What do I do, grandmother?” you asked, lifting your eyes up to her.

She looked at your son. “Obviously, your son inherits from his father. If he does not recognize your bond, he might recognize his father’s.”

You looked down at your son again, caressing his cheek, and knowing that pride was a luxury you could no longer afford.

You managed to get your son to sleep after feeding him, placing him in a soft cot before wrapping yourself in a heavy shawl. You dragged your heavy and sore body out of the pavilion. Every step felt like walking on broken glass, your hips feeling completely unhinged.

“What do you need?”

The deep, velvety voice made you gasp and jump. Neteyam was already standing behind you, but you tracked the moving branches from the canopy of the tree above. His golden eyes were wide with frantic concern, his hands twitching at his sides, desperately wanting to reach out and support you.

“What are you doing here?” you breathed, your voice devoid of its usual biting tone.

Neteyam swallowed hard, afraid that you might not want him around here at all. “I... I just wanted to... guard the pavilion,” he said. “I’ll get... do whatever you need... if you’ll allow me.”

You looked at him through a blur of tears. “I need... you,” you choked out. “For my son.”

Neteyam froze, his pupils dilating until the gold of his eyes was almost swallowed by black. His breath hitched, a look of unadulterated wonder and agonizing joy breaking across his handsome face. “A son...” he whispered, taking a trembling step forward before catching himself. “What would you have me do? I’ll do everything.” he said breathlessly.

“My son... do not recognize my bond. I cannot feed... him,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat and trying so hard to not let your eyes fill with tears. “I cannot help him regulate his body. He will weaken.”

Neteyam’s expression instantly hardened into absolute resolve, his own fear completely swallowed by protective instinct. “He will be alright. He will not weaken.”

You stared at him and nodded, taking from his strength. He did not even question why you would come to him for this, even after you told him moons ago that he didn’t father your child.

He followed you into the dim pavilion, his fists clenched tight to stop himself from picking you up and carrying you when he saw the limp in your stride. You shouldn't have been standing. He shivered in fear when he realized that if he hadn't been here, you would have gone to his sleeping quarters in this state. He took a deep breath as soon as you two entered the pavilion, but his breathing still hitched at the sight of the tiny cot in the corner.

He craned his head, trying to get a better look of the baby inside it but he got distracted with you taking a deep breath as you tried to lower yourself on the mat. He moved, his hand reaching for you. “Let me help you...”

“Do not touch me,” you immediately said.

He quickly nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry,” he said, his nails digging into his palm.

You sank onto the mats with a soft gasp of pain, and an uncomfortable weight settled on his chest as he watched you helplessly. If watching you from afar and not being able to do anything for you was hard, this is much harder. He watched you reach for the small cot and lift the baby. Wonder broke at Neteyam’s face at the sight of the boy.

His son.

He wasn't entirely small, but he could imagine how small the boy would feel in his arms. His heart warmed and tears pooled in his eyes. His eyes tracked the boy’s five-fingered hands and the low-set. He knew it already, but there was no denying that this was his son. The baby stirred, and within a moment, he was gasping for air and howling a huge cry that seemed to stem from the very core of his small body.

You moved to bring the boy to your breast, giving your palm to Neteyam. Neteyam immediately brought his kuru forward and you gently guided it toward your baby’s small tendrils toward his. The moment their kuru connected, a soft, contented hum escaped the boy’s tiny lips and his bioluminescent spots flaring into a brilliant color. His five-fingered hand reached out, his small tail curling tightly around your wrist.

You held his tiny hand and gently extended it toward Neteyam, Neteyam let out a choked sob, lifting his large hand and allowing the babe to hold his index finger. It left him breathless, his entire frame trembling as he channeled every ounce of his warmth, protection, and fierce love through the bond into his son.

You watched the sacred sight, your heart breaking and mending all at once. The baby latched as eagerly as he had done earlier, and with his father’s neural bond stabilizing his system, he feeds completely at peace.

Silently, you looked up. Neteyam was staring at you, his golden eyes overflowing with a reverence so intense it made your chest ache.

“He is happy...” Neteyam whispered, a tentative, breathless smile gracing his lips.

You looked down, stroking your baby's soft head. “Thank you...”

“Do not thank me, Y/N,” Neteyam said quickly, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I cannot erase what I allowed to happen to you. I know I broke your trust, and I was a fool who acted out of blind duty when I should have chosen you. I will spend every breathing moment of my life making it up to you—”

“You believed I was guilty,” you cut him off softly, untangling his kuru from your son’s as the baby drifted into a deep sleep. “You allowed me to get hurt because you believed I helped murder the woman you loved.”

Neteyam’s brow furrowed in utter confusion. “What? Y/N, no, I did not do it for a woman, I did it for my people and Tuk, I wouldn’t have—”

“You did it to avenge her, they told me so,” you muttered, the old bitterness bleeding through your fatigue. “I respect that, but truly, I feel bad for you that she died, you wouldn’t have turned into such a cruel man—”

“There was no woman, Y/N,” he emphasized, stepping closer on his knees, his hands hovering near your face in desperate earnestness. “I never loved anyone before you. Priya was a friend, a huntress of our clan. Sure, I was saddened and angered by her cruel death, but even when I believed you did what I thought you did, I fell in love with you. I love you, Y/N,  I love you so intensely it terrified me and you will never know how much I regretted not betraying my people for you right from the start.”

He reached out, his thumb gently catching a stray tear on your cheek before you could pull away.

“I was trapped between my duty and my devotion to you,” he choked out, his chest heaving. “And I made the worst mistake of my life by not running away with you the moment they started questioning me. But I swear on the Great Mother, my heart has belonged only to you from the moment I fell in love with you.”

You stared at him and he saw the exhaustion and the pain of labor reflected on your face. His breathing hitched, worried he might have strained you emotionally when you literally just gave birth.

“We will talk some again about, but now you need to rest...” he said.

You huffed, moving to put your son on his cot. “Oh, yes. That would be convenient for you,” you said. “But I wish to put an end to this now. I’ll have to let everyone know you fathered my child and I want the people to not think I have an ill grudge toward you.”

He didn’t say anything, watching you lower your body down on the mat, feeling a different kind of low. But as he stared at your lying form on the mat, the tiny cot beside you holding your child’s tiny frame, he knew it would take more than that to fully grind him to the ground.

The next day, you were woken up by a loud commotion you know is coming from the lower terraces. You were still at the healing pavilion, and when you woke up disoriented, your grandmother was the first person you saw, sitting across the room.

She tilted her head. “Antulo knows,” she said simply.

“Knows what?” you asked, still confused and blinking away sleep.

“Neteyam and your boy,” she answered.

Your eyes widened. You sat up, slowing down immediately as your sore body protested. “You told him?”

“He told him, I suppose,” she answered calmly.

You pushed yourself up, rushing outside the pavilion, and gasped when you saw Antulo physically roughing up Neteyam. “Antulo!” you called out, struggling to move and step down the wooden stairs.

“Don’t come down here!” his booming voice warned, his hands on Neteyam’s shoulders shoves Neteyam hard back to the ground.

The villagers were watching as if it were a spectator sport. “Don’t hurt him, Antulo!” you snapped, carefully descending the steps.

Enya and Penxi immediately rushed to your side, guiding you down.

“Don’t hurt him? He told me everything he did to you! Everything his people did to you! Tell me now why I shouldn't drive my knife to this man’s throat!”

Your face crumpled at the sight of Neteyam’s bloodied face and Antulo's pristine state. Neteyam wasn't even fighting back. “He is the father of my son, and my son needs him, Antulo—”

Enya and Penxi gasped in sync. Antulo shook his head in disbelief. “I already know that. He told me! But that is not enough reason! I can very well stand as a father figure for your child. He doesn’t need a man like him!”

“Stop this, Antulo,” you begged. “Don’t hurt him. My son needs him. My son doesn’t recognize my bond, only Neteyam’s.”

Antulo snarled and finally released his grip on Neteyam. Neteyam immediately sat up, as though he hadn’t just been beaten up. He stood up without a wince, though he did touch his shoulder and made it crack. You looked at him, pain seizing your heart before glaring at Antulo. You knew that you had once told your brother you’d allow him to break the bones of the man who hurt you, but you hadn't realized how agonizing it would be to actually watch it happen.

You didn't like seeing him get hurt at all. It pinched at your chest, and for a moment, you struggled to fight the urge to wrap your arms around him. Instead, you turned and walked silently back up to the healing pavilion.

“We’ll go visit you later, Y/N,” Enya said softly, and Penxi seconded with a serious nod.

Neteyam followed you up, and when you were finally inside, you turned to him. “Why did you tell him everything?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Now he hurt you!”

“I deserved that, Y/N. I deserved that and more,” he said quietly. “I would have allowed him to sink his knife into my chest, but our son needs me,” he added self-deprecatingly.

“Don’t do that again,” you said, swallowing hard and trying to ignore the painful spasm in your chest. “Don’t let yourself get hurt.”

His jaw clenched, your forehead creasing as he kept his eyes on the ground. “How can you say that when I allowed you to get hurt at the hands of my people?”

You balled your hands into fists. “Because it doesn’t work that way, Neteyam. I am mad at you for what you did, but I wouldn’t do the same thing to you even if I had the chance.”

You heard him choke on his own breath, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m so sorry...”

You took a sharp breath, about to say something more, when your grandmother craned her neck around the entryway. “The boy is waking up. You’ll need to feed him soon.”

You moved, and Neteyam moved too, both of you willing slaves to your tiny baby.

The first few weeks revolved around that strict routine, every moment choked with unsaid words. The two of you were like disciplined workers whose sole purpose in life was to satisfy your child, while maintaining a painful distance from each other. You allowed him to carry Mako at certain points, your heart breaking at the sight of him cradling the boy against his large frame, acting like his safest sanctuary.

And when he handed Mako back to you, his large fingers would carefully try to avoid brushing yours, but they would still touch sometimes, and both of you would feel an electric jolt from that brief contact.

One evening, as you sat rocking Mako in your arms, Neteyam stood by the doorway, his broad frame blocking the moonlight. His eyes lingered on your exhausted face.

“You should sleep,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble. “I will stay on the platform outside. If he wakes and needs the bond, call for me.”

“You do not need to sit in the dirt like a banished pet, Neteyam,” you replied, looking at the newly-woven mat near you. “This mat is yours.”

He nodded quickly. Of course, he wouldn't argue with that. He’d take any chance to watch you with Mako. To just be near you and observe you be a mother. Truthfully, you wanted to be closer to him, too. You could hardly believe that sometimes, when you watched him carry your son outside your hut to bathe him in the morning sunlight, you actually felt like you were missing out on an experience your son was privileged to enjoy.

Weeks earlier, when Mako was only days old, Penxi and Enya had visited to officially meet the babe, and Enya hadn’t missed the chance to put suggestive thoughts in your head.

“Seriously, Y/N, you might just be the best secret keeper in the village, because if I were you, I wouldn’t have been able to keep this a secret!” Enya had said, gently touching your son’s forehead. “I would have told everyone by day two!”

“In retrospect, we should have known,” Penxi pointed out. “Enya did observe that Neteyam seemed oddly devoted to you, almost like a slave.”

Enya giggled. “And not to mention that he looks at Y/N like he wants to devour her!”

“Enya!” Penxi gasped, her face flushing.

“What? I mean, he is baby Mako’s father, and Y/N did say it didn’t happen only once with him!” she giggled.

Penxi’s eyes widened. “Even so!”

Enya pouted and rolled her eyes before looking at you with a broad grin. “Even more so now, Y/N! You don’t see how he looks at you, but I do! I’ll report to you from time to time,” she smirked. “Do you feel the same, though? Do you feel... ticklish when you look at him? Do you feel like you want to devour him?”

“Enya, that is such an inappropriate question! Where are you even getting these ideas?!”

“From myself! It's what I feel when I look at Krikhir,” she grinned, playing with her braids.

You scoffed, chuckling at her, even though you were now bothered by a heat that was all too familiar. It didn't help that you did see what Enya was talking about. It wasn't like you were blind; you could see the way Neteyam looked at you. It was literally the primary reason you couldn't handle being touched by him.

Aside from Neteyam, Penxi and Enya were your primary caregivers. They were almost always by your side when Neteyam was out for training or hunting. Antulo was still annoyed with you for not telling him the actual story from the beginning. He had come up one time to meet your baby, having no issue with Mako—only with you.

“I didn’t even know Tarzuk wasn’t the only enemy I allowed into my lands! Is that why you were so mad when Neteyam arrived?” he had asked, scoffing sarcastically at himself. “I should have listened to you, huh? I shouldn't have let him in here!”

Penxi and Enya had both remained tight-lipped as your brother scolded you.

“Now that I remember, I was so stupid. I even told you to be friendly. You were friendly to him, and he did this to you,” he had said.

“It wasn’t that deep,” you lied, just so he wouldn't remain so furious.

“Not that deep?” he asked, pointing at your son. “Oh, maybe that's why he so happily got you pregnant.”

You groaned. “Will you just drop it? You can't undo things any more than I can, and I wouldn't undo it either if I could. I want my son here, and I need you to focus on the present. Neteyam is a part of your life now, he's the father of your nephew.”

It took several more lectures until he was finally on speaking terms with you again. With Neteyam, though, he remained distant, and you could see how hard Neteyam was trying to make amends with him as well.

“Is that good?” Neteyam asked as you leaned against the cushion of the nursing seat he had built for you.

It was made entirely of padded lining and felt like sitting on a cloud, molded specifically to support your body. You nodded with a soft sigh. “It feels like sitting on a cloud,” you adjusted Mako in your arms. “Thank you.”

He looked at you with the same intense expression he kept giving you every time you said thank you. “Don’t thank me, Y/N, please...” he mumbled. “Making things a little better for you is part of my job as Mako’s father. You wouldn’t even be in this discomfort if it weren’t for me anyway...“

You saw his lips twist with humor at what he said, and you stifled a smile, narrowing your eyes at him. “Right. This is completely your fault,” you mumbled, guiding your son’s head to latch at your breast.

Neteyam connected his kuru to the boy, watching both of you with deep satisfaction. Mako was an eager, messy eater. After a long feeding session where both of you obsessively watched how much he could consume, Mako fell into a milky stupor against your chest.

Neteyam reached out gently. “Let me pat his back. Your shoulders look tense.”

You nodded, shifting the heavy baby into his large, careful hands. You adjusted your top as you watched Neteyam hold Mako against his broad chest, his long fingers spanning the baby’s entire back. He began a gentle, rhythmic patting.

Suddenly, a sound completely unsuited for a tiny baby echoed through the quiet room: a loud, explosive, rumbling burp that sounded like an old warrior after a massive feast.

Immediately afterward, Mako let out a satisfied, tiny squeak.

You froze. Neteyam’s golden eyes went wide in absolute shock as he stared down at his tiny son.

A sudden, snorting laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. Neteyam’s head snapped toward you, a boyish, breathless chuckle bursting from his chest. Within seconds, both of you were laughing softly, the heavy, suffocating tension that had hung between you for weeks finally snapping into pieces.

“Great Mother,” Neteyam wheezed, nuzzling the babbling baby’s cheek. “He burps like an old man already.”

For the first time in a year, you looked at Neteyam and saw the man you had originally fallen in love with, his eyes shining with pure, unshielded warmth.

“And drinks like one, too,” you added with a giggle, catching the end of your son’s tail and tickling it.

The baby shivered in Neteyam’s arms, his tail curling tightly around his father’s wrist, making Neteyam chuckle softly. That was only the beginning, but it opened a whole new realm of possibility for a genuine connection between the two of you.

Since then, the air around you both grew much lighter, and talking to each other became effortless. You would have genuinely enjoyed the idea of a simple friendship with him if you weren't lying to yourself, and if you weren't dreaming of your supposed “friend” in completely inappropriate ways. It wasn't entirely your fault; your traitorous mind fed on the sight of him every day, turning your resolve against you.

One night, your mind dragged you back to vivid memories of moments shared with him in your hidden grotto in the forest.

Your hands cupped his jaw as you kissed, his hips pushing against yours at a pace that made you moan against his lips. His hand pillowed your head as you fell back onto the soft moss. Your hands slid down to his chest, which was pressed flat against your bare breasts, while his other hand pinned your thigh to the ground, quickening his rhythm.

You kissed passionately until he pulled back slightly to look down at the way your body was encompassing his length. “Fuck, baby...” he groaned, his pupils dilated with raw lust and desire.

He licked your lips, and you caught his tongue with yours, sucking on it before pulling him back into a deep kiss. His large hand behind your head angled your mouth so he could kiss you better.

It didn't just happen in dreams. Whenever Enya teased you relentlessly about missing intimacy with your former lover, your brain would instantly supply vivid snapshots of things you had done with Neteyam... Like him fucking you against a tree deep in the forest; him going down on you and eating you out by the riverbank; him taking you from behind; or something intensely thrilling, like when you gave him a blowjob up in the high branches at the risk of being spotted by people below.

It certainly didn't help that the unspoken tension between you and Neteyam was growing far more... intense and serious by the day. Thankfully, Mako was always there to break the spell.

At five moons old, you woke in the middle of the night to find Mako burning hot, his small frame trembling as he let out weak, miserable whimpers.

Panic seized your chest, and you immediately pulled him against your body. Neteyam woke from his mat beside Mako’s cot in an instant, rushing to your side and feeling Mako’s feverish skin, his own face contorting with concern.

“He’s too hot, Neteyam. Look at him. Be’s barely breathing properly. What if his body is failing him? What if my milk made him sick?” you panicked, your eyes watering.

“Hey, hey... shh, look at me, Y/N.” Neteyam’s voice was steady and grounding, though his own heart was pounding.

He no longer hesitated to sit close beside you, wrapping a massive, warm arm around your shoulders to pull you against his chest while his other hand gently connected his kuru to Mako’s. Even with Antulo’s initial protests, you had allowed Neteyam to sleep inside your hut for the convenience of having him present whenever Mako needed to bond. You hadn't listened to Antulo, whose main objection had been:

“Because that man is fast and sneaky! Who knows what he might do? You might surprise me with a niece by next moon!”

Neteyam gently pulled Mako’s lower lip down, revealing a tiny white bump on your son’s gum, making you gasp softly.

“He has a mild fever from a new tooth coming through. It was the same with my sister Tuk when she was a baby,” Neteyam murmured into your hair, his voice a soothing rhythm. He took a damp cloth, gently wiping Mako’s warm forehead. “Mako is going to be fine, hm? Meanwhile, you should probably prepare yourself... he’s got a tooth now,” he chuckled, and you huffed through your lingering anxiety, caressing your son’s chubby cheek.

“Oh, right... he bites even without teeth, so thank you for the warning,” you said.

Sinking into Neteyam’s solid warmth, your panic slowly ebbed away. You leaned back against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart while he cradled both you and the baby until Mako finished feeding and fell into a peaceful sleep. You carefully placed the babe back in his cot, trying not to shiver as Neteyam’s hand caressed your shoulder and back, soothing you.

You lay back down on your mat, and he settled onto his. He usually had early morning patrols, and he always made sure to slip out quietly without waking either of you. He had fully integrated himself into your clan’s warrior and hunter ranks, so much so that sometimes you wondered if he even intended to return home, given that the rest of the Omatikaya delegation had departed moons ago.

His days were largely filled with training the young warriors and hunters, as well as leading his own patrol squad. Your brother might not have liked him personally, but he undeniably recognized Neteyam’s immense value to his warriors.

Later that day, you had just put Mako down after a long, exhausting bout of teething, leaving a heavy quiet over the hut. You sat near the wooden wash basin, wringing out a wet cloth to wipe stray milk from your neck and collarbone. You were exhausted, and the sky had not even fully darkened yet.

A faint shadow fell across the entryway, and you saw Neteyam quietly placing his weapons onto the wall rack he had built for them. He looked as though he had just washed up at the river after returning from patrol, his bare chest damp and glistening faintly in the twilight. Instead of retreating directly to his mat, he knelt quietly behind you, taking the cool, damp cloth gently from your hands.

“Let me,” he murmured, his deep voice carrying a low, gravelly rasp that sent a sharp shiver straight down your spine.

You froze, your heart slamming against your ribs. His large, warm fingers brushed against the back of your neck as he swept your braided hair to one side. The contrast between the cool cloth and the searing heat radiating from his hands made your skin prickle. Slowly, delicately, Neteyam dragged the cloth down the curve of your neck, lingering over the pulse beating wildly at your throat.

His breath hit the bare skin of your shoulder, heavy and uneven. His golden eyes dropped to your mouth, dark with a raw, intoxicating hunger he had spent months suppressing. The air in the room became suffocatingly thick. His hand rested on your shoulder, his thumb stroking your skin just once, a slow, reverent caress that made your toes curl into the mat, before he forced himself to pull back, leaving you breathless and aching in the quiet night.

That brief touch dragged his mind back to the grotto as well. It had been the night after he first took you flying on his ikran, obsessed with the feeling of your back pressed flat against his chest that he knew he had to do something about it. In the grotto, you had been sitting on his lap, your back pressed against his front and your head resting on his shoulder, leaving your neck fully exposed for his mouth.

Your legs had been draped over his so he could control how wide he wanted you spread. You were already impaled on his cock, his fingers working your clit to stimulate you as he drove his hips up, fucking you relentlessly. His other hand was on your breast, squeezing and kneading your soft flesh.

“Neteyam.... oh!” you had moaned, arching your back into his chest.

His hand had dropped to your lower abdomen, pulling you back tightly against him when he remembered your tendency to dislodge yourself from him when you're overstimulated. Your hand grabbed at his large forearm, whining and trembling violently in his lap. He sucked on your skin, licking a sensitive spot on the side of your neck.

“Good?” he had asked, his hand caressing your belly as he pounded into you.

You had nodded frantically, “I’m going to...” you moaned, lifting your hips again.

He had allowed you to slip away, letting you go until you fell forward onto your hands and knees. He followed instantly, placing a heavy hand over your lower back and pushing back into you hard from behind.

“Neteyam...”

Your real voice snapped him out of his vivid dream, jolting him awake the following morning.

His wide eyes zeroed in on your flushed face, and his heart jumped, not out of panic that you might have heard him moaning your name in his sleep, but because you looked so breathtakingly beautiful. He was overwhelmed with gratitude to be greeted by such a sight in the morning, amplified by the fact that you were holding his son in your arms.

“Good morning?” you greeted softly, sounding as though it were a gentle question.

Neteyam swallowed hard, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “Yeah... good morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. The only thing he wished for in that moment was the freedom to lean over and kiss you.

His eyes dropped down to Mako. By seven moons old, he was an extraordinarily chubby baby, but he suffered from one glaring tragedy: his head was remarkably large, far too heavy for his little neck muscles to easily support.

Neteyam sat up on his mat. “Is tummy time over? I slept in,” he groaned, rubbing his face.

You chuckled softly. “No, I was just getting him ready, but then...” You shrugged, stubbornly refusing to admit that you had been completely distracted hearing him grunt and murmur your name in his breath.

He nodded, seemingly unashamed of whatever was causing your flushed cheeks. He grabbed the plush pelt, laying it flat in the middle of the floor, and you placed Mako on his belly for his daily exercises.

Mako grunted loudly, his four-toed feet kicking the air wildly as he tried to push his upper body up with his tiny, five-fingered hands. He managed to lift his large head an inch off the fur, his eyes wide with intense focus, before his head wobbled dangerously and slammed right back down onto the pelt with a soft thud.

Mako immediately let out a dramatic, outraged screech of frustration.

Neteyam burst into laughter, quickly reaching over to rub the baby's back. “Shh, my boy... You are fine...” Neteyam crooned, gently poking Mako's chubby cheek. “You just have a big brain, like your uncle.”

“Do not insult my son’s head,” you giggled, resting your chin in your hands as you watched them. “He gets his stubbornness from you.”

Mako looked back and forth between the two of you, his furious cries melting into an annoyed babble as Neteyam rolled him onto his back and blew raspberries on his tummy, making the baby squeal in delighted, breathless laughter.

By eight moons old, Mako was easily the most talkative child in the entire village, holding full, dramatic conversations in nonsensical gibberish while gesturing wildly with his little hands.

Neteyam had been quietly teaching him the word Mama during the rare times you went out without the babe. The Tsahik had advised that it would be wise to allow Mako time alone with Neteyam, so as not to let the boy grow entirely dependent on you.

One afternoon, Neteyam sat on the platform outside your hut, holding a carved wooden ikran toy just out of Mako’s reach.

“Say Ma-ma,” Neteyam coaxed patiently, pointing toward you as you sat near the healing pavilion a terrace away. “Come on, buddy. Ma-ma. She gives you the best hugs and kisses, and the great feasts. Say Ma-ma...”

Mako bounced on his knees, his eyes locked on the toy. He opened his little mouth, his tongue clicking against his gums. “Ma... Ma-ma! Mama!” he cheered loudly.

You swiveled your head toward your hut, your heart swelling with overwhelming affection. Tears pricked your eyes as you dropped the herbs you were counting and rushed over to smother your son’s face in kisses.

Neteyam smiled triumphantly, looking absurdly proud of himself as he watched you so happy. You looked at him and smiled warmly. The very next afternoon, while Neteyam was out on warrior duties, you spent almost the entire day whispering into your son’s ear.

So when Neteyam returned later that day, weary and covered in trail dust, he set his weapons aside and knelt by the cot. The moment Mako saw his father’s shadow, his pale yellow eyes lit up. He reached out his chubby hands, bouncing wildly.

“Pa-pa!” Mako shouted clearly, clapping his hands together. “Papa!”

Neteyam froze. His breath hitched, his golden eyes widening in sheer disbelief. He looked up at you, completely speechless, his lips parting in shock.

You offered him a playful, smug grin, leaning casually against the doorway. “What? You didn't think I would let you have all the glory, did you?”

A breathless, deeply emotional laugh broke from Neteyam’s throat. He reached into the cot and scooped Mako into his arms, burying his face in the baby’s neck, hugging him tight as the side of his eyes shone with unshed tears.

At ten moons old, while sitting together on the terrace edge watching Mako attempt to chase a beetle, you finally asked the question that had been lingering in your mind for moons.

“An Omatikaya scout arrived to give a message to my brother yesterday,” you said softly, watching the sky shift colors. He didn’t answer immediately, and you tilted your head with a gentle smile. “You thought I wouldn't know?” you asked softly. “They said your father misses his chief warrior. Your clan is peaceful now... You could return home.”

Neteyam didn't even glance toward the path leading out of the valley. He kept his eyes firmly on Mako, his large hand resting gently on the wooden deck, dangerously close to yours.

“My duty to the Omatikaya ended the day I realized my heart was here,” Neteyam said, his deep voice carrying an unshakeable finality. “My home is wherever you are, Y/N. If you tell me to leave, I will sleep at the edge of your borders, but I will never go back to a life without you.”

You looked at his side profile, feeling the profound, unwavering weight of his devotion dissolve the last bitter thorn in your chest completely.

As he grew, Mako turned into an absolute force of nature, especially now that he was no longer just crawling. He shuffled frantically on two chubby legs, his balance precarious, his little toes curling into the dirt. You and Neteyam often took him down to the lake to walk on the soft grass, delighting in his giggles every time the blades tickled his bare feet, causing him to lift his legs high like a syaksyuk.

“Careful, buddy,” Neteyam warned gently, walking a single pace behind him, his massive hands hovering mere inches from Mako's waist, ready to catch him if he tumbled.

Mako took three wide, wobbly steps, his arms and tail flailing in the air for balance. He gasped loudly, turning his head to make sure you were watching.

“Go on, my boy!” you cheered, kneeling at the end of the grassy path with open arms.

Mako let out a triumphant squeal, taking four fast, uncontrolled steps before losing his balance entirely and flopping into the soft grass. Before he could even think of crying, Neteyam dropped beside him, rolling him onto his back and tickling his stomach until Mako was breathless with laughter.

You sat down in the grass beside them, watching Neteyam lift Mako high into the air against the backdrop of the golden sunset. Mako babbled endlessly to the sky, his five little fingers grabbing at his father’s braids, and Neteyam looked up at him with a face overflowing with pure, unadulterated love.

When Neteyam lowered the baby, his golden eyes shifted to you. The lingering guilt, the painful groveling, and the strict boundaries of the past year had quietly matured into a deep, unshakable bond of mutual respect, unspoken understanding, and a love far stronger than the one you had lost.

Later that evening, after the trek back from the lake, the cool night air settled over the village. Mako had burned through the last of his endless energy, his small body going limp in your arms the moment you stepped into the hut. You tucked him into his cot, listening to the tiny, rhythmic sighs of his breathing, before walking over to the low wooden counter to prepare your evening tea.

Neteyam moved quietly across the room, carrying a heavy water jar. He turned just as you spun around to grab a dried herb bundle.

Neither of you gave way in time, and you bumped right into his broad chest.

The collision sent you off balance. Neteyam’s instincts flared instantly; he dropped the jar onto a rack and caught you around the waist with both arms. The sudden movement pulled you completely flush against him, your chest pressed flat against his bare, warm torso, your hands catching his broad shoulders for support.

You gasped, your face ending up mere inches from his jaw. Neteyam’s breath hitched, his large hands tightening around your waist as he held you securely. His golden eyes locked onto yours, blazing with a sudden, searing intensity that made the room feel stripped of oxygen.

“Are you alright?” he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, rich and thick with restraint.

“Yes,” you breathed, your pulse thumping against your ribs. “I... I just didn't see you.”

But you didn't pull away... and neither did he.

His eyes dropped to your lips, lingering there with a desperate, agonizing hunger that had been kept under lock and key for almost two years. His thumb stroked the curve of your hip, a subconscious, needy movement that made a quiet sigh escape your mouth.

That faint sound shattered the last of his defenses.

Neteyam leaned down, closing the tiny gap between you, and captured your lips in a deep, hard kiss.

You let out a soft groan, sliding your arms up to entwine your fingers in his thick braids, pulling him down to kiss him harder. Neteyam let out a low, shuddering growl in the back of his throat, his large hands sliding up your back to press you so close there wasn't a breath of air left between your bodies.

The kiss deepened, heavy and intoxicating. His mouth opened against yours, tasting you with a slow, ravenous passion that set your entire nervous system ablaze. He shifted his hips, pinning you lightly against the wooden edge of the counter, his tongue tracing yours in a rhythm that made your knees go weak. You tightened your grip on his shoulders, arching into his heat, completely lost in the sensation of being held by him again.

Both of you knew that nothing was stopping you. Mako was fast asleep, the hut was dark, and the door flap was secured against the night wind. The lingering longing of long, painful years throbbed between you, practically begging you both to abandon the slow pace you had carefully set.

Neteyam’s lips trailed down your jawline, pressing hot, lingering kisses along the side of your neck, making you gasp softly and tilt your head back to give him complete access. His hands cupped your thighs, lifting you slightly onto the edge of the counter, pressing his raging hard-on against your crotch.

He was trembling. The sheer force of his desire was palpable, vibrating through every muscle in his arms as he pressed his forehead into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your bare skin.

“Y/N...” he choked out, his hands gripping your legs with a reverent, desperate strength. “Fuck, I want you so much...”

You cupped his cheek, feeling the intense heat of his skin, your own chest heaving just as fast as his. You looked into his golden eyes, dark with passion yet filled with absolute devotion. You kissed him softly, “Take me,” you mumbled against his lips.

He pulled away a little, resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes for a moment in an intense attempt to calm himself down. As intoxicating as it was to feel you this way again, he knew the quiet, beautiful truth anchoring you both: he didn't need to rush anymore. He was no longer on a mission to prove anything to anyone; his time with you had no timer on it, and you weren't going anywhere.

You two had all the time in the world.

“I want us to mate first...” he mumbled against your skin.

A breathless chuckle escaped your swollen lips. You reached up, gently threading your fingers through his hair and bringing his face back to yours, pressing a soft, slow kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Wise,” you whispered against his cheek, your thumb stroking his cheekbone.

“I will court you,” he mumbled softly. “I will formally ask your grandmother and brother for your hand.”

Your lips twisted playfully. “No need for that...” you mumbled.

He shook his head firmly. “Don’t say that. Antulo might actually kill me this time if I make moves under their noses.”

You laughed breathlessly, hugging him around the shoulders. “Okay...” you mumbled against his neck. “Okay.”

The tension in his shoulders softened, replaced by a profound, blissful peace. He rested his forehead against yours, a soft, breathless laugh breaking from his lips. “And... my family will be coming for Mako’s first birthday,” he mumbled.

You pulled back slightly, “Birthday?” you asked, your forehead creasing in confusion.

His hands caressed your waist gently. “It’s a Terran tradition my father brought with him. We celebrate the person every season, during the exact day they were born,” he explained.

You smiled up at him, “That’s amazing. I want to celebrate Mako,” you mumbled.

He nodded, “And you, too... You did so well on that day. You survived it, and that’s amazing considering the size of his head.”

“Hey!” you said softly, a giggle escaping your lips as you playfully smacked his chest. “Not my son’s head! He got that entirely from you.”

He grinned, lowering his head to press a lingering kiss to your lips. You kissed him back for a long moment before pulling back slightly.

“And... are your parents okay with me?” you asked, suddenly feeling worried and uncertain.

He chuckled softly. “Of course. My parents have always been impartial in their judgment,” he said. “And they knew that I was with you before.”

Your eyes widened a little. “How?” you mumbled.

He bit his lip, looking away as if thoroughly embarrassed. “Well...” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. “Remember that time I...” His eyes widened to indicate a specific memory. “You... behind the stock hut?”

Your eyes narrowed as the memory returned. Your face heated up instantly, and you closed your eyes in intense embarrassment.

“Right... that was my reaction, too,” he said in a humored tone, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

It had been even worse for him, to be honest. His parents had been standing near the stock hut, speaking about the matter of your presence in the clan, when they were treated to the quiet, unmistakable moans coming from behind the structure. They were certainly old enough to know what was happening, but they were mostly curious about which young people were desecrating the stock hut.

“You taste so good...” they had heard a familiar raspy voice murmur.

“Let’s go,” Jake, scandalized by the sounds, had pulled Neytiri away.

Neytiri allowed herself to be pulled, but she looked back over her shoulder. “That sounds like Neteyam,” she thought out loud.

Jake looked back too, shaking his head. “That boy...”

They stayed within sight of the stock hut, ready to lecture Neteyam once he revealed himself. After what seemed like an eternity, however, a smaller figure emerged from the shadow. A woman. You had tried so hard to fix your single-braided hair, but it was so messy that you chose to simply unbind your hair before adjusting your top and loincloth, both of which were askew as though you had been ravaged.

Both Jake and Neytiri’s jaws had slackened to see you, but especially when, minutes later, their firstborn son emerged. Not casually walking at all; he was palming his crotch and squeezing as though he were desperately trying to calm his body down. He was about to walk up the winding ramp after you when Neytiri called out to him from where they stood.

His shoulders had squared immediately, standing straighter as he walked toward his parents with all the air of a respectable, dignified warrior. But that façade was shattered right away when his mother calmly pointed out the remnants of wet essence glistening around his mouth.

Now that Neteyam recalled the memory, he couldn't help but laugh softly as he held you close. That felt like a hundred years ago, and the two of you had come so incredibly far. Most people would say they wouldn't change anything about the journey that brought them to where they currently were, but he definitely wished he could change a few things... or just one specific thing.

The part where you got hurt. He wished he had taken your side completely and defended you to his people openly from the start. But he could not erase what he had done, so he was determined to make everything right going forward. He would love you so intensely that you would never be haunted by what had happened. He would give you his absolute faith, belief, and devotion.

His official courtship began the morning after he spoke to your brother. The air between them cleared in a raw, quiet conversation down by the lower terraces, where Neteyam looked Antulo dead in the eye and swore on his very soul that he would never hurt you or allow danger to touch you or your son again. Your grandmother had watched from the shade of the pavilion. Though she hadn't held Neteyam to the same white-hot wrath as Antulo, the Tsahik’s heart had ached deeply for what you had endured; seeing Neteyam’s humble, unwavering devotion over the past moons was the only reason she blessed his intention to woo you properly.

Antulo’s first official decree as the brother being appeased was immediate, however: “Move out of her hut, warrior. You may have fathered my nephew, but you’re still a suitor, not a mate. You want her? You earn her from the ground up.”

Neteyam didn't complain for a single second. That very afternoon, he built a small shelter, close enough to hear Mako if he cried, but far enough to respect your honor and the clan's traditions.

The formal courtship transformed Neteyam from a quiet co-parent into an utterly shameless pursuer. Every morning, before you even opened your eyes, a new gift would be left on your wooden porch.

One afternoon, you sat with Enya and Penxi near the weaving looms, sorting through the vibrant blue stones and rare, hand-carved bone hair beads Neteyam had brought you that morning.

Enya picked up a beautifully carved wooden comb, turning it in the sunlight with a dramatic sigh. “He has been courting you since forever, Y/N, and he still has endless ideas for gifts!”

Penxi smiled at you before turning to Enya. “All of that before was just Neteyam repenting. But this right now? This is the actual courtship, and he must show he is worthy.”

“Either way,” Enya giggled, nudging your shoulder, “the chief warrior of the Omatikaya is sleeping in a woven tent for you. I say put him out of his misery!”

Penxi laughed. “Or make him sweat a little longer?”

You smiled softly, tracing the smooth wood of the comb, your chest swelling with a warmth that knew exactly what to do, despite the playful chatter around you.

While the village thoroughly approved of the courtship, one tiny person was severely offended by Neteyam’s sudden shift in behavior: Mako.

Now a fully mobile, incredibly vocal toddler, Mako was used to having both of his parents in a neat, protective triangle centered entirely around him. Neteyam’s sudden habit of giving you undivided, romantic attention—which he foolishly thought the boy wouldn't notice—did not sit well with the young child.

One evening, Neteyam brought over a basket of sweet, roasted roots. You sat together on the terrace steps while Mako played with a set of wooden animal blocks near your feet.

Neteyam leaned in, offering you a piece of the roasted fruit. As you took a bite, he lingered close, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek, his hand gently resting over yours.

“NO!”

A high-pitched, furious screech shattered the romantic atmosphere.

Mako dropped his wooden blocks, his little brow furrowing into an outrageously dramatic scowl. He shuffled over on his chubby legs as fast as he could, wedging his tiny body directly between you and Neteyam. He pushed his hands against Neteyam’s chest with all the strength his little arms could muster.

“Mine!” Mako shouted fiercely, slapping Neteyam’s knee before wrapping his arms tightly around your neck and glaring at his father. “Mama mine! No kiss!”

Neteyam gasped, clutching his chest in mock agony. “What? Buddy, I brought the sweet tubers! I carved the blocks! You betray me for a cheek kiss?!”

Mako puffed out his cheeks, burying his face in your shoulder and letting out a protective, tiny growl.

You burst into breathless laughter, kissing the top of Mako's head while Neteyam shook his head in fond disbelief.

“I can't believe I have fought rogue warriors and border beasts, Y/N, but my fiercest rival for your heart is my own son.”

Days before Mako’s first birthday, Neytiri, Jake, Kiri, and Tuk arrived for Mako’s nameday celebration. Neteyam welcomed them alongside you, Mako snuggled securely in his arms. Both Jake and Neytiri were breathless at the sight of the little boy. He looked remarkably like Neteyam when he was that age, but Neytiri noticed his brows and low-set kuru right away.

She looked at Jake, who also looked back at her with a soft, understanding smile. Mako was restless in Neteyam’s arms, hugging his father shyly as Neteyam introduced him to his family.

“Dad, Mother... you remember Y/N,” Neteyam said, turning his body toward you, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to his side.

Kiri smiled warmly from behind her parents, while little Tuk remained silent, her eyes fixed on Mako, curious and full of quiet wonder.

“I remember her,” Neytiri said with a soft, gracious smile, stepping forward toward you. “I am sorry for what my people brought upon you...” she mumbled, lifting her hand to gently touch your cheek. “And for the treason we allowed to foster among our people, whose poison bled onto the innocent.”

You offered a genuine smile, nodding and gently holding her hand. “I hope knowing who the real culprit was brought peace to the grieving families.”

She smiled, her eyes misting as she recognized the deep grace you held in your heart. It had allowed you to forgive her son. For this, she was profoundly grateful. Grateful to know that her son’s heart had chosen a spirit as pure as yours.

Your brother welcomed Toruk Makto and his family with a grand feast, housing them in a comfortable, spacious hut and assigning local guides for Kiri and Tuk. Tuk visited your hut frequently, initially not speaking much and simply playing with Mako’s toys. Mako was far more talkative, which endeared him greatly to Neytiri.

It was not until Mako’s actual birthday that something truly momentous occurred. You were preparing Mako, bathing him and dressing him in a fresh loincloth, while Tuk quietly hovered nearby.

“It’s his birthday?” she asked quietly, gently touching Mako’s head.

You looked at her with wide eyes; Neteyam did too. You subtly shook your head when Neteyam looked as though he wanted to loudly celebrate the fact that she was speaking. You turned to Tuk and smiled softly, “Yes. His first birthday.”

Tuk smiled gently. “He was born a year ago?” she asked. Neteyam watched her, his face contorting in pure joy as tears filled his eyes. He quietly stepped out of the hut to silently call his parents and Kiri.

Mako looked at Tuk and giggled. “Birthday!”

Tuk giggled too. “It’s the most special day,” she said softly.

You smiled, breathlessly laughing, “Yes. Very special,” you nodded, playfully tapping her nose. “When is your birthday?”

Jake and Neytiri quietly rushed to the doorway, watching Tuk hold a comfortable, easy conversation with you, a huge smile spread across her face as she even laughed when Mako grabbed at her braids. Safe to say, Mako’s birthday was a resounding success, and he grew comfortable enough with Neytiri and Jake to allow them to feed him and carry him around the village.

“He is so chunky,” Tuk giggled, kissing Mako’s chubby arm.

Your son remained unbothered by all the fussing, far too busy gnawing on the cooked meat Jake had given him, holding it tightly with both of his little hands. Neytiri caressed his head while Jake kept teasing his tail, but Mako was completely unbothered by any of it.

“He has long patience,” Kiri remarked, smiling at you and Neteyam.

“Much like Neteyam,” Neytiri piped in warmly. “Nothing could make Neteyam lose his temper when he was small. Jake loved teasing his tail, too,” she shared with you.

You chuckled, watching your son. He had an absolute blast on his birthday, and you were so glad. He ate, played, and then ate again. He fed with you and connected kurus with Neteyam, but he stubbornly refused to take a nap, far too restless as he watched the other children playing and running around. Thus, it was no surprise that by nightfall, he was completely limp and asleep in Neteyam’s arms.

“Can he sleep in our hut?” Tuk asked softly, gently touching Mako’s hand.

“Oh, maybe not, Tuk-Tuk. Mako needs to sleep with his mama in case he gets hungry,” Neytiri said softly, caressing Tuk’s head.

Tuk’s lips pouted forward, and seeing how sad she looked, you couldn't allow the young girl to be disappointed on the very day she had opened up and spoken again. You held her hand gently. “Maybe he can. You are just our neighbors, so I think Mako can sleep beside you in your hut, and you can bring him to me if he gets hungry or fussy?”

Tuk smiled brightly, nodding eagerly. “I will! I will take care of him!”

You smiled warmly. Neytiri smiled at you and softly muttered her thanks. Neteyam handed the heavily sleeping Mako over to Neytiri, and the two of you watched them retreat to their hut next door.

You turned to Neteyam, smiling up at him and tiptoeing to kiss his lips. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing you back deeply. Your hand slid down to hold his, gently pulling him inside your hut.

The woven door flap fell shut behind you, and he immediately covered your face with kisses like a starving man, his large hands framing your face as he kissed you passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and kissing him harder. He whisked your top away, his hands moving quickly to free you of your loincloth. His lips found their fiery path down your neck, his hand cupping your breast and squeezing reverently.

You lowered yourself onto the floor before he could stop you, untying his loincloth and freeing his length. You felt as though you were possessed. You had missed him so much; you had missed this closeness for so long. He groaned, his knees buckling as your hand wrapped around his thick girth, your mouth following by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his velvety skin, sucking gently.

He took in a sharp breath, his fingers tangling in your hair. You looked up at him as you happily licked the full length of his cock, giving him deep kisses and tasting him while humming softly. He lowered himself onto his knees, allowing you to shift into a position that suited you, letting your hips rise as he took in the view of you.

He hissed softly, reaching for your wetness and slipping two fingers into your tight heat while you continued to pleasure him with your mouth. Your lips tightened around him as he worked his fingers inside you. His other hand gently angled your head so he could move against your mouth, the tip meeting the back of your throat. Your mouth had been accustomed to his impressive size before, and the familiar fullness brought a surge of pleasure to you both.

You licked and stroked, drawing intense groans from him until he came hotly in your mouth. Even as he tried to pull away, you swallowed and cleaned him thoroughly. When you were finished, he drew his fingers out from your core, licking them before lifting you easily by the waist.

He kissed you deeply, his tongue tracing your lips and tasting himself before placing you gently onto the soft mats. He licked his lip, admiring the raw beauty of your bare body beneath him.

There were subtle, beautiful changes to your frame after childbirth, and he adored this version of your body most of all. He lowered his head to kiss your lips, then moved down to trail kisses across your breasts, kneading the soft skin carefully before his hands slid behind your knees, opening you wide for him. He hungrily lowered his head, meeting your slick core with his mouth opened, licking away your sweetness and groaning happily.

“Fuck, I missed you so much...” he mumbled against your skin, and you laughed breathlessly.

“My pussy?” you teased softly. “Wow.”

He nipped gently at your folds. “Everything. I missed all of you so much... I missed this, and I missed my sweet one,” he pressed his thumb into your core before sucking your clit gently.

You let your head fall back onto the mat with a soft laugh, moaning when he continuously lapped at your pussy. You were trembling from intense stimulation by the time he pulled up, your thighs loose and unresisting in his firm hold. He hovered over you, reaching for his kuru and showing yoy the trendils undet the hair.

“I should have asked before we started...” he mumbled softly, taking your hand and kissing your palm. “But I’m not doing this without this anymore...”

You bit your lip to stifle a radiant smile, reaching for your own kuru to offer it to him. He lowered his head to kiss you deeply before connecting your tendrils. You arched your back as you gasped, your hand gripping his bicep as you stared straight into his golden eyes, both of your pupils dilated from the overwhelming wave of sensation the bond provided. He flooded you with an infinite ocean of love, but you also caught a brief glimpse into his emotions from the past years, the lingering fear, the regret, and the deep grief, all of which were completely conquered by his all-consuming love for you.

Your emotions flooded him in return: the love, the fear, the painful sense of betrayal, and then love that sent warmth to his chest. He choked on a sob, looking down at you in absolute disbelief, overwhelmed by the depth of your heart and how completely you had managed to forgive and love him again.

He kissed you tenderly, and you parted your legs wider for him. He looked down, giving his cock a few firm strokes before guiding himself inside you in a single thrust that made you moan loud. Even though you had given birth, your body welcomed him intimately, wrapping tightly around his length. He began a slow, deliberate rhythm, pulling back and thrusting deep, marking you with every familiar contour of his body.

He moved within you with a steady, passionate pace, his thumb massaging your clit as he buried his face into the crook of your neck to muffle his groans. When your climax hit, he didn't stop, continuing his deep, rhythmic thrusts that drew loud, breathless moans from your throat. He kissed you deeply to capture the sounds, moving with relentless devotion until he spilled hot and thick inside you, burying himself to the hilt as a powerful shudder wracked his entire frame.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his broad shoulders, pressing sweet kisses to his jawline.

Over the next few hours, neither of you thought of stopping. You ignited a fiery hunger in him when you rolled on top of him and took control, riding him with confident grace, until he eventually flipped you onto your hands and knees to take you deeply from behind. When you finally collapsed onto your stomach in sheer exhaustion, he gently lifted your leg to slide back inside you, his hand reaching around to stimulate your clit until you both shattered once again.

He was so insatiable that you were physically trembling by the time he finally pulled a soft woven blanket over both of your bodies. He wrapped his long arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Was I too much?” he mumbled softly into your hair.

You shook your head, a contented smile gracing your lips as you snuggled deeper into his warmth. “Never...” you answered softly. “I didn’t forget your stamina.”

He laughed raspily, holding you tight. “I'm sorry,” he said with a soft grin.

“Please, I have high respect for that animal,” you smirked, kissing the soft skin of his shoulder.

He cupped your chin in his large fingers, tilting your head up to kiss you with profound sweetness. “I love you so much, Y/N...”

You kissed him back, your eyes stinging with happy tears. “I love you, Neteyam... so much.” you breathed against his lips.

His hand stroked your cheek gently. “I hope you believe me when I say I will never allow you to be hurt like that again. I will lay down my life for you and Mako, always...”

Your lips curved into a soft smile, tears spilling over as you nodded against his skin. “I believe you, Neteyam. I believe in every word that you say,” you whispered, placing your palm over his steady heart.

He pressed his forehead firmly against yours, his voice thick with emotion. “All my love, belief, and devotion are yours, Y/N. Always.”

You grinned through your tears, pulling him down into another deep, everlasting kiss.

The morning after you two reunited in every sense of the word, the quiet peace of the hut was broken not by the sounds of tears, but by a brand-new, highly questionable skill your son had picked up.

Kiri’s voice calling outside made you and Neteyam sit up in panic.

“Wait!” you said, grabbing your loincloth and tying it on your tail. Neteyam grabbed your top when he finished tying his own, helping you put on it.

You quickly went to the woven flap, pulling it aside and being welcomed by the sight of your son theatrically mimicking the look of a wild animal roaring. You figured that he was also the one you heard roaring earlier. Tuk was standing beside Kiri, grinning at you and Neteyam.

“Mako can roar like a palulukan now!” she proudly announced.

Your son immediately demonstrated again. You were quick to jump into action, acting scared as he reached for you. “Nooo! Papa, save me!” you stepped back.

Mako giggled. “No, Mama!” he said like he was assuring you. “Just baby!”

You and Kiri melted in a puddle of aww. You reached for your son, hugging him to you and kissing his cheek. “Good morning, my boy,” you whispered.

Neteyam held his hand with his fingers, bringing it to his mouth to pretend bite it. Mako squealed and laughed. “Papa!”

Neteyam roared softly, coaxing a roar from Mako that the boy immediately gave. Neteyam took this new development as a serious parental responsibility. Every morning before sunrise, as you were trying to piece together enough sanity to prepare breakfast, Neteyam would crawl on his hands and knees across the floor mats, trailing behind Mako with an utterly deadpan, stoic expression.

“Watch closely, Mako,” Neteyam whispered solemnly, crouching low over a woven basket. “This is how a true warrior hunts. First, the stalk...”

Mako wobbled beside him, copying his father’s serious posture, his chubby little cheeks puffed out.

Neteyam suddenly threw his hands up in the air, baring his fangs and letting out the most dramatic, over-the-top, rumbling roar. Mako squealed in utter delight, throwing his little five-fingered hands up and screeching a high-pitched “Rrrr-rawr!” before losing his balance and rolling backward onto the soft mats.

Neteyam immediately collapsed next to him, dramatically clutching his chest as if mortally wounded. “Argh! You have struck me down, Chief Mako! The warriors lost!”

You stood by the cooking fire, leaning against the wooden post, holding a wooden spoon and shaking your head as you wheezed with laughter. “Neteyam, he is one year old. Stop letting him defeat you before sunrise.”

Neteyam looked up from the floor, one golden eye open while Mako sat on his stomach, slapping his chest. “I cannot help it, Y/N. He is far too powerful.”

Mako babbled triumphantly, bouncing up and down on Neteyam’s broad torso like a little chief who had just conquered a mountain. “Rawr! Papa down!”

Neteyam let out a exaggerated groan, letting his head fall back onto the mat as if drawing his final breath, which only prompted Mako to collapse forward, burying his little face into Neteyam’s chest with giggles that sounded like chiming bells.

You set the food down wooden tray and walked over, shaking your head affectionately as you knelt beside the two dramatic males in your life. You reached down, tickling the back of Mako’s thigh until the toddler squealed and rolled into your lap instead.

“Traitor,” Neteyam muttered, instantly sitting up with a boyish grin, his golden eyes warm as they swept over your face.

You looked up at him, your gaze lingering on his lips. The quiet residue of the night before still hung sweet and thick between you, the memory of his touch, the warmth of your connected kurus, and the unspoken promises he had breathed against your skin. You felt a soft flush rise on your cheeks, and Neteyam’s smile widened, knowing precisely what you were thinking.

“What?“ you asked, trying to sound stern, though the smile pulling at your lips betrayed you completely.

“Nothing,” Neteyam murmured smoothly, reaching out to tuck a stray braid behind your ear, his thumb brushing your cheekbone with reverent tenderness. “Just thinking about how blessed I am.”

Mako, sensing that he was no longer the sole center of attention, promptly wedged his chubby body between the two of you once more, letting out another high-pitched squeak right into Neteyam’s chest.

The baby slept quietly against you, comforted by the connection of your kurus, no longer wailing at the audacity of being forced into the world. He was round and soft with all that human fat that had caused you too much trouble the last few hours, thicker in ways normal na'vi babes would be slim.

Lo'ak's eyes searched that round little face, moving from his chubby cheeks to pouty lips, then higher up above his eyes.

No brows.

Lo'ak's chest stilled, breath hitching.

No brows.

The babe's face was devoid of any extra hairs that had plagued Lo'ak's face his entire life. For a second, a palpitating sense of relief washed over him, relief at knowing his child would not be subjected to the cruelties of words those hair brought on. The mocking, the sneers, all of it. The kind of silent scrutiny that lingered in crowds wherever he went.

Then his eyes traveled down. And there on the babe's clenched fist were five fingers. Five, short, stubby little fingers, each barely larger than a mealworm.

A disorienting flurry of feelings surfaced.

First it was fear for his son, of what the people might say or do, of what he might endure as he grew. The shame and self-hatred.

But then…there was adoration, quiet and fluffy, settling right in the middle of his chest in a ball of fuzzy warmth. Because looking now, at that little fist that housed that tiny pinky, Lo'ak knew, with all the certainty in the world, that finger could not belong to a demon. Attached to that pinky was a small, chubby newborn baby; someone who was the complete embodiment of love, the product of two hearts joining as one. That finger looked so soft and gentle and pliant. Something incapable of harm.

Pride came rushing in. Pride that there was part of him seen in his son. Pride of knowing indisputably that the babe was his—not that there was ever any doubt— and that finger was not what anyone ever told him it was. That it was not something vile and eldritch but rather adoring. How could he have ever let anyone make him believe otherwise when the truth was so clear before his very eyes?

Tears clouded his vision. It was not a burning that rushed along his waterline in quiet heartache. It was a fast and bubbling rise that quivered along his lower lashes in release of that suffocating feeling that surfaced whenever he looked at his hands.

"Ma Lo'ak"

Your hoarse voice broke him out of the spell his son had cast over him. His eyes found yours instantly. You held the babe up to him, arms lifting as much as the exhaustion that had settled in your joints would let you.

Instinctively, Lo'ak's hand raised, only slightly before stopping mid-air. It was the hesitation of a man who never knew if what he was doing was right. Hesitation that did not exist when he was a reckless boy. Hesitation that was born of blood and death and war. His hand stayed still, shackled by an invisible chain of his own making, holding him back, stopping him from crossing the distance despite your silent permission.

His eyes found yours again. Your wide, beautiful eyes, so different from his smaller ones. Those eyes that looked at him with all the adoration in the world. Those eyes that had seen him and chosen him despite what others whispered. Those eyes that softened and fluttered and gave him all the love he had craved his entire life, genuine and surreal.

"Lo'ak," your voice was a blanket, always so careful with him, wrapping him in pillowy warmth. Your lips were pulled back, smile sweet despite the corners drooping from tiredness. "You can hold him. It is okay." Lo'ak always listened to you. You were his rock, the one thing in his life that considered him completely, that held him up when his own legs refused to, folding under the pressure of his own doubt. Lo'ak owed you more than his life. Your love had saved him in ways he could not express in words. Whatever you wanted, he gave it, because you gave him everything the day you chose him. Even now, you still give him more than he deserved in the form of a sleeping babe.

Lo'ak's hand trembled, pulling against the self-imposed shackles, freeing himself and finally breaching the space between him and his son. You passed the baby off with ease, him only stirring slightly when you unlinked your kurus. The baby's weight settled in Lo'ak's arms nicely. Heavy and real. That pale blue skin of new life was plush with human fat, feeling so cushiony against his arms. The babe's rounded cheek was squished against Lo'ak's chest, his pouty lips letting out a quiet, content sigh. Lo'ak wondered if his son could hear the deep thudding of his heart, if it was comforting to his tiny ears.

Lo'ak's hand went to the babe's fist, smoothing his large thumb over the little one's knuckles. He naturally focused on that small pinky that was barely longer than his own nail, carefully opening the little hand so he could stroke it with a reverence he never thought he would have towards the finger that was just like his own. His heart skipped a beat when the babe curled its hand around his finger—his pinky, so large that those small fingers struggled to fully wrap around it.

It was then the tears finally fell, brushing against his cheek in a light, cool rush. He tipped his head down, bringing his lips closer to the babe's ear, and with a soft whispering voice laced with willowing devotion, he welcomed his son.

ᴛꜱᴜ'ᴛᴇʏ

He knew that humans were different than na'vi. He knew about avatar and what not. But what he didn't know was that you had a whole little jungle right there.

He'd ask about it, like why is it there and what's the need for it. You tell him that it's basically to protect your area from dust, dirt and all that jazz. It's normal to have hair down there. He's more curious than he he weirded out.

If you offer to shave it off, he'll say no. Because he understands it's normal for you to have it. Just like it's normal for them to be walking around butt ass naked.

He cares about your pleasure more than his own. He wants you to feel safe and comfortable with him. He may be rough around the edges. But your comfort is his comfort.

He's had sex with you in your avatar, but this time. He wanted to try it in your human self. He knows there's a big, BIG size difference. But he'll be careful and won't hurt you.

He'll have you lying on your back, legs over his shoulders and he's going down. He's a munch. He'd go down on your for hours, none stop. He knows what he's doing. He doesn't mind your patch of hair on you. He grows used to it. He knows that is natural for you to have it and has nothing against it.

After a long day of hunting and teaching younger warriors, he'll want nothing more than to bury his face on your couch and just go at it for hours. Low-key likes to overstimulate you, at time. Not all the time.

He'd also have you climb over and sit on his face, if you worry you might crush him. He'll just give you a 'really' look and have you get on top anyway. He'll hold you by the thighs or waist. Squeezing your thighs and just loving your weight on him.

ᴛᴀʀꜱᴇᴍ

A bit similar to Tsu'tey. He knows the difference between both humans and na'vi.

He'll ask questions and wants to learn almost everything about the human woman autonomy. He wants to understand and learn. If there's any real difference. He thinks that there's not such a big difference.

Just that you have hair there for protection and they don't. The loincloth is the protection. Lowkey, he thinks is very interesting.

When he learns that some men don't like it and want it gone. It'll just confuse him because. 'They can have it, but you shouldn't?' Who cares. It's your body and you can do whatever you want with it. He doesn't mind your bush.

He starts off slow, fingering you gently. Asking if he's hurting you or if you're comfortable. He wants you to be comfortable and trusting towards him.

He seems like the type you eat you out doggy style. He'll hold you by the thighs and hips. He's slow and gentle. Not wanting to hurt you. He'll ask if you're okay and if you need a minute. He pays a lot of attention to your clit. He knows what's good.

He always eats you out first no matter what. He likes it that way. He likes to get the taste of you. A lot. He feels nostalgic every time. It take him back to the first time he went down on you as a human.

He's a kisser. After a bit, he'll kiss your cooch. Soothing out any kind of pain you're in. If you're in any.

ꜱᴏ'ʟᴇᴋ

THIS MAN WAS MADE FOR IT.

He knows the difference between na'vi/avatar and human. Being in the resistance and all. He learns a lot. He wanted to learn.

But when it came to intimacy between the both of you. He wants to learn that with you and you only. He'll ask questions and he'll listen to your responses.

He's slow and will take his time. He'd probably start by kissing your ankles and going down, until he reaches your cooch. Giving a long lick. Causing you to react. It's almost like a ritual.

Taking in your scent, his nose rubbing on your clit as he devouring you slowly. Making sure that you're feeling his tongue all over you. His fingers also play a part. Pumping them in and out. Also rubbing your clit carefully and measured. Giving it the right rubs.

He gets even more motivated seeing your reactions. Just by reading your face and moans. It encourages him to go further and continue. He won't rush. He never rushes. EVER.

He might not admit this, but he likes getting your face squished by your thighs. He'll squeeze them onto his face as he going down. He loves it, but won't say it out loud.

Even when he's not going down on you. He rests his head on your thighs. Usually falling asleep on them.

ᴛᴇʏʟᴀɴ

I always had the idea that he may be into human women. Due to growing up at TAP. He knows about human biology and the differences between both human and na'vi. So you having a bush isn't a surprise to him.

But if he learns that you can shave it off, he'll be like. "Why would you take it off? It's completely natural for you to have it." He' very understanding.

You both had sex a couple times. You're both taking it slow and learning from one another. He wants to know what you both like and don't like. He'll keep a mental note of the things that you enjoy.

The first time he's going down on you as human, he'll be asking if he's doing okay and if you want him to stop. He's a bit nervous and doesn't want to mess up. He's very attentive. He'll as questions along the way and what he can do different. Like your first time together.

He actually enjoys going down on you. He'll get good at it. Very good. Since he learns about what you like and how to give you an orgasm. He has a good memory honestly.

He's skilled with his fingers. He's gentle and knows what spots will cause a reaction out of you.

He'll go slow at first, then change his pace after your first orgasm. He actually trying to achieve to make you squirt in his mouth. You're his nectar, that he needs. You make him feel all sorts of things. You don't make him feel stupid. He's not stupid.

He seems like a thighs man, he'll lay his head on your lap once done and just lie there. While you play with his hair. He feels safe on your lap. He'll forget about all problems and everything going on.

ɪᴛᴜ

This man. He's a romantic and certified munch. Since he knows about avatars and what not. He'll learn about human biology too. He's all about natural and what not. So, if he learns that you have hair down there. He'll also asks questions on how and why you have hair down there.

He'll be nodding along as you explain why you have it. He knows that it's natural and a part of you. Which he doesn't make it a big deal about it. Everyone's different and he understands. If you shave, he'll ask you why you shaved it. He'll think your sick or if you're shedding your fur.

If you tell him that some human men like it shaved. He'll think they're stupid for wanting something natural to get removed off your precious body that you obviously need.

You're his muse and he'll treat you as such. He treats you as if you were a sacred relic that he should worship.

He'll have you on your back or on top of him. Whatever makes you more comfortable. Prefers you on top of him. Loving the fact he's under your mercy. He'd die happy like this.

He'll basically makeout with your cooch. Going for hours and hours. Saying how your his nectar that he needs to consume daily. He'll most likely to recite poetry as he's going down.

He gets used to the idea of having fur on his face. He doesn't mind nor care for it.

He'd probably be like Napoleon and call your bush his 'little black forest'. Because he appreciates her as much as he does you. Its a part of you and he loves everything about you. He basically already worships the ground you walk on. He'll do the same for your home girl down there.

ᴡᴜᴋᴜʟᴀ

(Rip your cooch)

This man is a FREAK. When he learns of the bush. He'll obviously ask about it and make him even more curious about your strange species. He understands its purpose and what it's for.

If you tell him that some men prefer it gone. He'll too think that they're stupid and must not want your cooch to be safe and warm. But if you do decide to shave it off. He'll keep it warm for ya. With his mouth.

This guy will go down for hours. If not days. He'll constantly overstimulate you to the point that you feel both pleasure and pain. Even if you beg him to stop for a break. He will not. He'll keep going.

If you have a piercing on your clit. He'd be really into it. He'd love to kiss, suck and even bite the metal.

Sucking, slurping loudly in broad day light. He doesn't care about getting caught. That'll give him even more motivation to keep going. To show whoever spotted you that he owns your cooch.

He'll use your juices as scent to scent himself. He doesn't care if he gets dirty looked from anyone. He likes it.

You'll be feeling pain for days. And maybe even still feel his mouth and tongue on you when he's not around. He'll notice your pain from a distance and he'll be smirking seeing how you can still feel him.

tears ran down her face as she raced through the clan. she had to find ikeyni.

many tayrangi motioned to her, greeting her by ‘tsahik, we see you’. y/n had no time to greet them back. her baby was missing.

pushing through bodies she finally finds her mate, ikeyni, standing strong and tall, giving orders to hunters.

y/n wrung her hands through her tewng. “ikeyni?”

ikeyni stops and turns. the smile on her face quickly fades on seeing y/n’s tears.

“what is it? what happened my heart?” ikeyni interrogates. the hunters watch as their olo’eyktan and tsahik converse.

“y/n, tell me everything.”

the tayrangi can barely hear over y/n’s cries. the sky people had taken her child. y/n had killed two of them but it wasn’t enough.

the na'vi clutched their weapons close to them, almost getting ready to fight.

ikeyni let’s y/n collapse into her chest. ikeyni holds her up by her shoulders.

“we will find her. i will find her. they will not have her.” ikeyni whispers, promising y/n.

“please… ikeyni.. i cannot lose her. i will die…” y/n sobs and wipes her eyes.

“breathe, breathe y/n.” ikeyni places her forehead againt y/n’s. “i promise you this y/n i will find her and bring her back.

“let me come with you. you’ll need me.” y/n sniffs and wipes her tears. “she needs me.”

ikeyni nods. “of course.”

-

the two na'vi women get close to the small rda base. it was a lone base on the seaside cliffs. ikeyni had seen them before but so far they hadn’t made any contact, though ikeyni knew to keep an eye on them.

y/n raises her bow. her breath was heavy and shaky. she did her best to not let her emotions cloud her.

“i’m here beside you, y/n. we will find her, yes?”

y/n looks to ikeyni and nods.

“she had better be here.” ikeyni whispers.

the two women walk closer and closer. they hear raised voices behind the door. they look at each other confused looks on their faces.

“find her!”

“find the kid!”

y/n gasps. was d/n not here? did they move her? where was she?

y/n begins to shake. a strong arm grabs her shoulder and turns her.

“look at me, she could be anywhere. we will find her.” ikeyni says confidently.

“but they said-“

“sshhh, just stay close to me.” ikeyni raises her bow and walks towards the door.

y/n follows but a shuffle in the bush beside her catches her ear.

y/n turns toward the sound.

ikeyni kicks the door open. screams erupt. she lets out arrow after arrow. the sky people roar orders, shoot at ikeyni but ikeyni stood strong.

“d/n?” y/n calls out. there was something familiar here. she lowers her bow. “are you out here my child?”

y/n hears ikeyni cry out, asking where the child was.

“sa’nok? (mother?)”

y/n gasps. it was d/n. “where are you hiding little one?”

“under you!”

y/n drops her bow and goes to her knees and looks in the floral bush beside her.

“d/n!” the child was crouched down, trying to be as small as she could.

“sa'nok!” d/n cries out. she reaches for her mother. y/n quickly grabs her and hoists her up in her arms.

“oh my child!” y/n runs away from the base enough to have some coverage under the foliage, holding her child.

“oh my child. i’m here, we’re here! i’m so sorry!” y/n holds her daughter close to her. tears well up in her eyes.

“thank you great mother!” y/n sobs.

“don’t cry, i was small. they couldn’t find me!” d/n wipes a chubby hand on y/n’s face, wiping a tear off.

“you were so small. i’m so proud of you.” y/n kisses her small hand. “i couldn’t find you at all.”

“sky people are stupid!”

y/n let’s out a laugh, tears streaming down her face. “d/n. stay here, i’m going to get mama alright?”

d/n name nods. “okay. i’ll stay small.”

“yes stay small, and don’t go anywhere. i’ll be right back.”

y/n runs to the base to find it in… flames.

her heart stopped. “ikeyni!” she screamed. “no! ikeyni!”

y/n collapses and screams. she was gone, her mate was gone.

y/n held herself up from the ground, she felt like she was going to pass out. she sobbed. ikeyni died… she was alone… this was her fault…

so many thoughts ran through y/n’s head. self doubt, blame, shame… how was she going to go back to the clan.

y/n sobbed so hard she didn’t realize the arms wrapping around her.

“no! no! don’t touch me!” y/n cries out fighting off the arms.

“sshhh it’s me, calm!”

y/n knew that voice.

she looked up and saw ikeyni… she was here!

y/n gasps and collapses into ikeyni. “oh eywa! i thought i lost you. i could not have-“

“sshhh let’s get d/n home. this place is about to go up in flames. we need to get to safety!”

-

d/n was asleep in y/n’s arms. ikeyni lay with them. ikeyni moves a small braid out of d/n’s face. y/n smiles.

“what a day.” ikeyni comments, letting out a breath.

“mmhmm. little one wandering off, thinking you were dead.” y/n says.

“at least we found her.” ikeyni takes a hand and wraps it in hers. she kisses y/n’s knuckles. “i’m so glad she’s safe. both of you are.”

“as am i.” replies y/n. “you two are the most important things in my life. i cant lose either of you!”

ikeyni kisses y/n gently on the lips. “i promise you here and now, i will protect you with my life. you and d/n. no more harm will come to you both.”