loreyu

“Wait!” You suddenly jerk to a halt, free hand latching onto Lo'ak's bicep.

He stops beside you, just before the tree line breaks into the wide gathering area. Your eyes round with unease, searching for comfort within his warm gaze.

A soft breath falls from his lips, chest tightening at the sight of you so on edge. A large hand cradles the side of your head gently. You instantly lean into his touch, a fraction of tension releasing.

“Hey...” He coos, guiding you forward so he can place a kiss in the center of your forehead. He leans back slowly, head dipping to catch your eyes. “Nothing, and no one, will take you from me. Okay?”

You’re nervous, no, terrified to face his parents. You haven’t spoken a word to them, haven’t seen so much as a glimpse of them in nearly a week. Not since Jake so harshly yelled at you, so cruelly accused you of being a traitor.

Lo’ak‘a gaze remains steady on yours, unwavering in his love for you. He's completely serious, if any of his family members argue against your union, he has some choice words ready. Now that you're his for life, he won't let anyone disrespect you, no matter who they are.

“Okay.” You agree lowly, sending him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

He nods reassuringly, fingers tightening around yours as he guides you forward, back toward the place where you’ll build your new home together. He barely makes it a step before a tall figure approaches, walking briskly through the brush.

In his haste, Neteyam nearly rams right into you. He’s the perfect picture of a poised leader on a mission, brow furrowed, shoulders square, bow slung tightly across his chest. He rears back in alarm, narrowly missing the two of you.

“Eywa!” He curses under his breath, eyes widening a fraction as he takes in the scene before him.

His spine straightens, tail flicking to attention at his back. His eyes narrow, trailing over the two of you scrutinizingly. At first, he’s surprised that you’re standing before him at all. After that day in the forest, when he stumbled upon you and your Ikran, he fully expected to never see you again.

But now, here you are. With his brother, the day after he disappeared without warning. The pieces start falling into place, Neteyam’s thoughts racing as he dissects in the sight of the two of you together. Together walking from the woods, with your hands clasped and—oh, shit.

“Baby bro, you didn’t.” There’s a rough warning beneath his words, head tilting to the side almost pleadingly.

Lo’ak forces down a hoarse swallow, lifting his chin in defiance. His hold on you is firm, bordering on painful as he meets Neteyam’s glare with one of his own. Daring him to challenge the union. The older Sully groans, eyes falling closed as he pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation.

“I shouldn’t be surprised.” He sighs heavily, molten eyes shifting to you.

You’re tempted to curl inward, to crumble beneath his judgmental gaze, but you remain strong. You have no regrets about mating with Lo’ak. You’ve chosen him as your partner for the rest of your life, and nothing anyone says or does can change that now.

With a dismissive shake of his head, Neteyam turns to go back the way he came, seemingly abandoning whatever he was about to do.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Lo’ak steps forward, arm outstretched and ready to stop him from getting to their parents before he can.

“As far from here as possible.” He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even spare a retreating glance before disappearing through thick foliage.

Your brows furrow worriedly, sharp teeth catching your lower lip as anxiety quickly mounts. Lo’ak groans quietly beside you, irritated that your first greeting wasn’t a pleasant one. Before you can dwell on it, he’s pulling you behind him, over the last remaining barrier between you and your future home.

The second your foot touches warm soil, a loud, ear-piercing scream echoes through the base of Home Tree. It makes your shoulders hunch, muscles pulled taunt in alarm. Your eyes widen, as do most of the clan's as they whip around to see what the fuss is about.

A moment later, you crumble to the ground under the weight of a tiny body colliding with yours. Your hand is ripped from Lo'ak, who bursts into a fit of laughter beside you. Your arms instantly curl around Tuk’s middle, turning carefully to ensure you'll take the brunt of the fall.

“You left me!” Her face is scrunched into a deep scowl, nose wrinkled, small lips pulled into a frown.

She pouts down at you from her new position, perched on your stomach. You can't help but smile, heart skipping a beat at the sight of her. Despite the clear anger pointed your way, nothing but joy floods your system at having her close again. You didn’t want to dwell on it while convincing yourself you’d never see this place again, but you missed her like crazy.

Slowly, you sit up, pulling her into a tight embrace in the process. She tucks into you without hesitation, face smooshing against your chest. Her little arms wrap around your waist, returning the hug with her full strength.

“I’m sorry, Tuk.” You murmur soothingly, head falling to rest on top of hers.

A huge, boyish grin splits Lo'ak's face, arms crossing as he watches the scene unfold. Warmth blooms in his chest at the sight of the bond you share with his baby sister. He knew she missed you, couldn't escape the constant questions about where you'd gone and when you'd be back every moment you were away.

“You skxawng (idiot)!” A new voice interrupts, your head instantly tilting up in recognition.

Despite the insult, a soft smile pulls at Kiri's lips as she approaches casually. You match her expression, moisture prickling at the corners of your eyes. You're quick to blink away the tears, a surge of embarrassment bringing color to your cheeks.

You didn't expect to feel this swarm of emotions, didn't anticipate being overwhelmed by the sight of your two closest friends welcoming you home with open arms. Kiri leans down, offering a helping hand. Your fingers slide into hers easily, gratitude brightening your expression as she pulls you up from the ground.

Tuk bounces to her feet beside you, hopping up and down excitedly. A giggle bubbles in your chest, tension gradually releasing the longer you're in the presence of her playful spirit.

A sudden, quiet gasp has your attention snapping back to Kiri. Her fingers twitch against yours, grip tightening to an almost painful degree. Her eyes pop wide, flicking between you and her brother.

“Did you...?” She pulls you in by the firm hold on your arm, words a breathless whisper into your ear as you stumble against her chest.

The color of your cheeks deepens, heat blanketing your neck and chest. Of course, she’d sense it, long before you could even formulate a plan to tell her. All you can do is nod, stomach flipping with unease. Your heart soars at the way her mouth pulls into a slow grin, relief flooding you when she doesn’t appear upset.

“Tuk, Y/N is our sister now.” She peers down at her with a hint of pride, the youngest Sully’s eyes popping wide in shock at the declaration.

Warmth swells in your chest, heart fluttering between your ribs. The whisper of belonging tickles your insides, weakens your knees. Threatens to bring you back to the ground with wave after wave of intense emotion.

“Is it true? Is it true?” She jumps up and down, beaming at you with such adoration, it makes tears spring to your eyes all over again.

The huge grin on your face must be confirmation enough because she lets out another scream, the excited wail echoing through Home Tree. You’re quick to shush her, gaze hastily scanning the area. You force down a thick swallow at the sea of concerned eyes that are already trained on your little group.

A low rumble has begun within the clan as they notice your presence. Many have paused their duties, instead openly staring as you’re greeted by the Olo’eyktan’s children. The weight of their judgement, the mounting questions you know you’ll soon be forced to answer, settles onto your shoulders.

The tightness around your spine returns in full force, muscles already aching from being pulled so taunt.

“Girls.” At the sound of a familiar rough voice, your smile falters.

Kiri’s hand drops yours, instead tucking against her chest as she folds into herself protectively. You realize she’s bracing for impact, steeling herself from the predictable wrath of her father before it arrives.

“Go back to your chores.” Jake’s expression is all hard lines, brow furrowed, lips pursed, eyes narrowed as they seem to dissect each one of you in the little circle.

“But dad! Y/N is—” Tuk begins excitedly, still beaming despite the obvious shift in everyone else’s demeanor.

“Now.” He barks, using a tone usually reserved only for his sons.

Lo’ak shifts at your back, long fingers curling around your bicep. You send him a questioning glance over your shoulder, but he only shakes his head before gently pulling you against him. You don’t fight the motion, instead relying on his stability as you lean into his chest. One of his arms slides along your stomach, holding you against him firmly.

Tuk deflates, not used to receiving such harsh orders from her father. Her shoulders slump, tiny lips pursing in irritation. Kiri is quick to wrap an arm around her, murmuring softly as she all but drags her away. Her eyes round as they slide toward you one last time, silently wishing you good luck.

Your heart rate instantly skyrockets at the impatient click of Jake's tongue. Hesitantly, your gaze meets his, stomach churning with unease. A long breath falls from his pursed lips, hard eyes sweeping down your form quickly.

“Believe it or not, I'm happy to see you in one piece, kid.” His voice is deep, rough despite the kind words. It's clear that something dark is brewing just beneath the surface as his attention snaps over your shoulder, tone sharpening. “Is what your brother says true?”

He chooses to speak in English, hoping to maintain a semblance of privacy for this conversation. The clan has no shame in the way they watch their leader with curious eyes, slowly forming a large circle around the three of you.

Fucking Neteyam, Lo'ak hisses internally, stiffening against you. He pulls you in closer, narrowed gaze shifting over the crowd, ready to piece at the slightest movement toward you.

“We are mated before Eywa.” His chin lifts confidently, words strong as they leave his lips with conviction.

Quiet sounds of shock roll through the clan, hushed murmurs making your ears flatten against your head. Jake lets out a short hiss of displeasure, expression tightening before it’s replaced with the usual hardened mask of dismissiveness. He looks away briefly, as if assessing the audience that continues to surround you.

“Listen close, son.” He leans toward you both, voice dropping to a tense whisper, pointing a finger right in Lo'ak's face. “I get it. I really do. Back in the day I would’ve done anything to be with your mom. But there are rules.”

Your breath hitches, ice cold dread seeping into your bones at the insinuation. There's no way he would...would he? You silently pray he’ll show you mercy, or at least try to understand where you’re coming from. You’d never forgive yourself if mating with you was the downfall of Lo’ak’s relationships with his family. His clan.

His fingers twitch against your stomach, pressing you further into his warmth. A low growl rumbles through his chest, vibrating the overworked muscles of your back. Your eyes pop wide at the threatening display he’s just showed his own father.

“I don't care. I love her, dad. I would do it again.” Your ears twitch at his affirmation, cheeks warming. You sink impossibly closer to him, needing the reassurance of his skin on yours in as many places as possible.

Jake suddenly stands to his full height, hands landing on his hips, an exasperated look crossing his face. His jaw clenches as he fights the urge to lay into Lo'ak for his blatant disrespect. The entire clan has now gathered in the area, and though he's disciplined his son many times in front of them, he doesn't want to cause a scene right now.

“Alright, let’s go, you two.” Long fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, another heavy sigh of disappointment leaving his lips. He turns in the direction of the Sully family tent, glare piercing straight through Lo'ak's questioning gaze. “I’m not facing your mother alone.”

With that, he stalks forward, expecting you to follow. You glance at Lo'ak nervously, the cord of panic squeezing your heart cinching tighter by the second. His lips quirk into the ghost of a smile, though the gesture doesn't reach his eyes.

He plants a quick kiss along your temple before shifting to your side. The arm that's been protectively wrapped around your waist doesn't waver as he guides you forward, following his father's lead. Your eyes cautiously trail over the dense sea of eyes as they part for you, before falling to the dirt, finding the scrutiny too much to bare.

Within a few short steps, the woven flap of their shared home slams shut behind you. A tremor wracks your body at the sight of Neytiri, hunched over a pile of fruit in the corner. Her rhythmic chopping halts instantly at the sudden presence in her home. She looks up, eyes widening when they land on Lo'ak.

She's on her feet in an instant, crossing the tent before anyone can even think about speaking.

“Oh, my youngest son.” She coos, relieved to see him whole and uninjured. He’d run off without so much as a goodbye, and she’d been worried sick, even ordering Neteyam only minutes ago to look for him.

Her expression drops, hardens when her eyes scan his form, catching on the way you're so tightly wrapped up against him.

“What is this?” The question is full of accusation, her gaze sharpening into the ferocious glare you've been dreading all day.

All you can do is watch as realization dawns. As she takes in the intimacy between you and her son, the way he holds you so protectively, like only a mate would do. She sees so much of Jake in her youngest boy, recognizes the defiant square of his shoulders all too well.

A soft gasp lodges in her throat, a shaky hand covering her mouth as she rears back as if she's been struck. Her eyes widen, utter horror darkening the usual bright glowing yellow. They jump between all three of you, as if unsure who to blame for this.

“Lo'ak, do not tell me...”

“It is done.” He instantly defends, voice even though his jaw is already clenching in preparation for the fallout.

Neytiri hisses aggressively, taking a few steps to the side, then back the way she came, pacing in front of you. Her tail flicks upward, standing at attention against her spine. She looks every bit the fearsome hunter she is, steely glare piercing straight to your core as she zeroes in on you.

“You have brought shame to this family!” She spits, looking at you like you've just committed the most egregious sin. Like her family is falling apart, and you're the cause.

“Don’t act like you didn’t do the same thing with dad.” Lo'ak growls, pulling you tighter against his side, the harsh tone of his accusation earning another hiss from his mother.

“Hey! Watch your mouth, boy.” Jake takes a step forward, narrowed eyes catching his son's pointedly. He stands at the ready only inches away, prepared to step in if things escalate.

“I did not mate with your father until he became one of The People! You will throw away your future for this—for her?” Despite the reservations she still harbors, she can't bring herself to call you a vrrtep (demon) any longer.

She recognizes everything you've done for the clan. For her family. You've brought Kiri out of her shell, given Tuk some direction, calmed Lo’ak’s rebellious spirit. Mo'at never stops singing your praises, even going so far as to suggest that Eywa would bless a union with Neteyam—had you not been so smitten with his brother—due to your skill within the Tsahik tent.

But you are still other. No matter how much she has secretly grown to tolerate you, she would never choose such a match for the son of Toruk Makto. Every union their children commit to holds weight, impacts the perception of the entire family. They must be strong to protect the clan, to be effective leaders.

“Okay, you know what? I'm just going to say it.” You release a tense breath, jerking free of Lo’ak’s tight hold as anger licks up your spine.

There's only so much you can take, so much judgement, so many harsh words before you have to stand up for yourself. For your relationship with Lo'ak. The thinly veiled restraint you've been desperately holding onto lays at your feet in tattered shreds as you take a step forward, ignoring the quiet plea from behind to calm down.

“Your mate used to the human! Used to be an Avatar!” A finger points harshly in Jake's direction, though your molten stare remains locked on Neytiri. “I have learned your ways, just like he did! I claimed an Ikran, just like he did! I have as much right to be one of The People as he did!”

Neytiri stills before you, fists clenched tightly at her sides, lethal glare blazing a hole straight through your tough exterior. Truthfully, you're terrified, trembling where you stand, heart clattering between your ribs harshly.

“You do not speak of Ma Jake!” She hisses, chin dropping menacingly, tail flicking back and forth harshly.

“I have been nothing but kind to you, and you have refused to even try to see me.” You're a bit breathless, surprised yourself at the way you've just spoken to her.

You never wanted it to be like this, never imagined this kind of tension could exist simply because of who you are. Who you love.

“I cannot see what does not exist.” She grunts, hard eyes slicing to Lo'ak, still wound tightly behind you. “All you do is take.”

“It won't be me that takes your son away, Neytiri, but your own prejudice.” A humorless laugh falls from your chest before you can stop it, stomach flipping with anger and frustration.

At the snap of your harsh words, the dam breaks, an animalistic snarl cutting the thick silence before Neytiri pounces. She lunges for you, hands raised to strike, face tight with rage. You rear back instinctively, but it's useless as Jake and Lo'ak rush to step between you.

“That's enough!” Jake roars, one hand wrapping around his mate's shoulders while the other locks around her waist, hauling her against his front.

She growls and fights against his firm hold for only a moment before allowing him to drag her away. Meanwhile, Lo'ak covers your body with his, crouching as he hisses at his mother dangerously. It feels foreign, wrong, the action shattering a fraction of his heart.

Under normal circumstances, he would never dream of disrespecting her in such a way. But now, he has no choice, he would die before allowing anyone to lay a hand on you in his presence. Even his own family.

When his parents are safely on the other side of the tent, he turns to you, both hands cradling your face tenderly.

“Tam, Tam (there, there), baby, mawey (calm).” He murmurs, lips caressing the skin of your forehead before he tucks you into his side.

Every one of your muscles is tense, trembling with pent up emotion. Your chest heaves against his, ragged breaths attempting to soothe your racing heart. Your arms wrap around his waist, looking for stability as you try calming raging emotions.

It's given you a tiny sense of release, having finally defended yourself the way you've been aching to since the moment you arrived in Home Tree. But still, it hasn't made anything better, hasn't relieved even a touch of the hostility that's palpable within the small space.

Lo'ak turns to face his parents, brow pinched in anger. He doesn't want to choose between you and his family, but he will without hesitation. He openly glares at Jake and Neytiri, something he'd never dare before this moment. Before everything crumbled right in front of him.

“Muntxa (mate),” He coos the term of endearment pointedly, sending a clear message as one of his hands trails soothingly down your spine. “Why don't you tell them what you told me?”

Your face jerks toward his as you lean back, creating a few inches of space that allow you to gaze up at him in question.

“I don't think now is a good time, Lo’ak.” Your words drip with uncertainty, completely lost as to why he would bring this up now.

“Tell us what?” Jake is already on high alert, spine straightening as his hold on Neytiri loosens a fraction. She's calmed in his arms, resigning herself to glaring at you from across the room.

A rough sigh leaves your lips, anxiety rearing its ugly head once again. You planned on delivering this news gently, over dinner or maybe even a warm fire. Definitely not like this, when emotions are already so high. Truthfully, you wanted to have this conversation privately, first sharing the information between you and Jake alone.

Lo’ak nods encouragingly, hoping you’ll follow his direction. He wants to show his parents that you’re on their side, that you’re fully committed to the clan. He knows this will help, and even if it’s not the best time, you don’t have much of that left anyway.

With another deep breath, your shoulders square, muscles tight in preparation to drop the bombshell.

“Two days ago, when I was at the lab, we received a correspondence. From an incoming ship.” Your voice is quiet, even as you brace yourself for the worst.

Jake drops his hold on Neytiri instantly, stalking forward a few steps in shock before reining in his rising emotions. No, no, it can't be, the words echo through his mind like a prayer. With two simple sentences, his worst fear has just come true.

“What are you saying?” He rasps, fists already clenched as every one of his muscles coils painfully tight.

“It was a hostile branch of the RDA. They were sending out feelers, trying to see if any humans survived the last two decades.” Your chin dips, apprehension clouding your mind at the look of pure horror on Jake's face. Your voice drops to a low whisper as you deliver the final piece of information you have. “They're supposed to land in five days.”

“No, no.” He's the one pacing now, eyes wide as they flick wildly around the tent, looking for something solid. He turns on you, a sudden gleam of accusation beneath his glare. “If that were true, Norm would've reached out.”

“He did.” Your brow pinches with confusion as you watch the always poised leader practically have a panic attack right in front of you.

He stops suddenly, recalling with agitation that he hadn't checked the tech tent within the last day. He'd been distracted, looking for Lo'ak.

“Fuck.” He rasps, turning on his heel to flee the tent in a few quick strides.

Just like that, the conversation is over, the issue of your union with Lo’ak seeming so petty now.

Silence blankets the room, palpable tension the only thing remaining in Jake’s absence. Your eyes sweep toward Neytiri cautiously, but she merely hisses before stalking through the door after him.

You’re left standing there, stomach turning with unease. Though Lo’ak instantly pulls you into him, wrapping you in the warm strength of his embrace, it does little to fill the gaping hole in your chest.

Because, after all this time, you’re no closer to belonging than when you first arrived.

A frustrated huff leaves your pursed lips, brows pinched in concentration as you try—and fail—to focus on the task at hand.

Your fingertips are raw, skin battered by constant wear. The last several days have been a flurry of preparation. You've done little else but sit, hunched over well-used tools as you sharpen spears and arrowheads.

With one final swipe of stone against wood, you lift the jagged weapon up close for inspection. It's not great, but it will do. You toss it to the side, ignoring the sharp clatter as it tumbles onto the pile of finished products.

Your head lifts for a brief moment before grabbing the next log, eyes scanning the open area of Home Tree. A tiny breath of relief falls from your lips when they land on Lo'ak, dutifully helping Jake fit the newest group of warriors with their own woven chest pieces to mark their rising rank within the clan.

You haven't seen much of him since the fight in his family's tent. You've chosen to remain in your hammock at night. Traditionally, mates sleep together in the family home until they are ready to build a tent of their own, but there's no way you could subject yourself—or the rest of the Sully's, frankly—to that level of awkward.

He visits you at night, showering you with kisses to make up for lost time, even falling asleep in the cramped space with you once after a particularly grueling day. Things are changing fast, and the Recombinant's, as you've learned they're called, haven't even arrived yet.

It's scary, not knowing what to expect. Not knowing how you fit into all of this, despite the effort you’ve put into finding your place.

Your ears twitch at the sound of soft footsteps approaching. Your spine straightens, relief flooding you at the welcome distraction. You’re expecting Kiri, or even Tuk, but quickly deflate at the sight of Neytiri. Instantly, your eyes fall to your lap, hands busying themselves with another log before she sits down beside you.

You're tucked away in a corner, near the tree line, enjoying some much needed quiet as you work. It's just been so hectic, the constant bustling around Home Tree grating on your already fried nerves. So, when Jake asked for your help with this, you immediately found the most secluded spot that left Lo’ak within your line of sight.

You desperately try ignoring the way Neytiri's eyes bore into the side of your head, urging you to look at her.

“It is time.” Her voice is surprisingly soft as her eyes dance along your features, lips pressed into a firm line.

You can’t help but glance up at her in question, the cryptic phrasing making your heart leap with anxiety.

Unbeknownst to you, or anyone else, she has been watching you. She would never admit it, but your words from that day have stuck with her. They've nestled into the back of her mind, prodding each time her gaze finds you, rushing around her home to help in any way you can.

She has seen you prepare salves and balms with her mother and daughter, skillfully mixing ingredients almost as fluently as they do. It hit her, that day, how hard you must've worked all those weeks after Mo'at took you under her wing.

She's watched with careful eyes as you tend to the children, calming and entertaining not only Tuk, but now her friends by the raging fire each night. The other women have noticed, too, gazing upon you with soft smiles, and a hint of adoration.

Most importantly, she has seen how Jake guides you under his diligent instruction, looking after you as if you are one of his own. She sees the parallels between you, can understand why he's defended you all this time. Your dedication to the clan is clear, so obvious in fact that she's kicking herself, wondering how it took so long to realize.

“I will only say this one time, so listen close. I am sorry.” She knows she's been too harsh, too rigid. Eywa, even her youngest has been more welcoming.

She doesn't regret the protective instinct that drove her judgement, she would do anything to keep her children out of harms way. But at this point, she does recognize that maybe, just maybe, she let the fact that you're different cloud her mind, prevent her from seeing you as she should've a long time ago.

Your eyes pop wide in surprise, breath catching at the words you never imagined hearing from her.

“I can’t promise to always make the right decisions, but I will try.” The admission is gentle as she peers at you with rounded eyes, nothing but warmth shining within the bright yellow. “I know how Lo’ak feels, it is how I felt about Ma Jake. Though I wish you would have waited to mate, I should not expect anything else from my son.”

You're stunned, completely frozen as your brain slowly processes the words you've been dying to hear for weeks.

“I know I have not been fair to you, but for as long as you treat my son well, I will be happy to call you my daughter.” One of her hands rests gently on your shoulder, a tiny smile pulling at her lips.

A ragged breath leaves your quivering lungs, vision blurring. Your heart soars, chest caving with a quiet cry as tears slip freely down your cheeks. Finally, the last piece of the puzzle has clicked into the place. The last thing you needed to feel whole, to fully step into your new life—whether you would admit it or not—is her acceptance. And now you have it.

Your hand moves to cover hers, a wobbly smile the only response you can muster. For the first time in your twenty years here on the moon, you feel seen. Truly and fully seen by everyone that matters.

Now that you have her blessing, the only thing left to do is become one of The People in the eyes of the Great Mother, before the entire clan.

Excitement coils in your stomach, eyes glittering at the prospect of completing your own ceremony. Of emerging from this turbulent time better off, closer to the most authentic version of yourself.

There’s no doubt in your mind as Neytiri eagerly jumps into action beside you, helping to finish the last of the spears before eclipse blankets Home Tree in darkness, that you’re exactly where you were always meant to be.

That you’re exactly who you were always meant to be.

Coming soon…

Neteyam x F!Avatar!Reader Series

You’ve been recruited by the Omatikaya clan. Finally given an excuse to use your Avatar for more than field tests and experiments. With the threat of war looming overhead, tensions mount, but it’s not the approaching hostile forces that keep you on high alert. A certain Olo’eyktan’s oldest son has been ordered to train you, so that you might be of assistance in the coming battle.

He’s determined to keep you at arms length. Distraction has never fit into his painstakingly structured life, and he surely has no time to entertain it now. Despite his best efforts, his restraint is tested beyond previously known limits. No matter how infuriating every interaction seems to be, he can't escape the fact that he's never been met with something quite as tempting as you.

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A/N: thank you guys so much for 3k followers it's insane to me how fast we've grown. Finally a fluff type of part to celebrate!! Also I can't let go of this plot I'm about to make an alternative story on this or some I love human reader too much. Possible villain reader?!

"Papa bubbles!" You splashed your arms against the running water, enjoying the warm water against your skin as the bubbles started forming from the amount of soap Jake put in. You squealed when your father made a move to join you in the bathtub, watching how he struggled with his legs. Not that it helped a lot, but you wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his lower back as he was seated on the edge of the bathtub. Jake noticed your intentions and couldn't help but chuckle, "thank you, baby. Watch out I'm going to join you." You obeyed him as you moved to the end of the bathtub, your eyes wandering to the bubbles consuming your tiny figure. Jake pulled his legs inside the tub once he seated himself comfortably opposite of you, watching your sparkling eyes with a satisfied expression. He took your shampoo from the clear box stuck to the wall where all of your wash products remain. "Baby, close your eyes. You know what happens when you get this in your eyes, right?" Your eyes wandered up, watching how your dad opened the cap and squirted some shampoo in his palm. You immediately closed your eyes, slightly tilting your head for the shampoo to glide downward instead of towards your eyes, "yes papa! Burn ow ow!" You recalled the memory all too well of you crying with soap burning in your eyes. "Aren't you a good little girl, huh?" He gave you a quick peck against your lips, making you explode in a fit of giggles. Jake rubbed his palms together, before he moved them to your scalp. He gently massaged your head as he carefully ran his fingers through your locks, "keep your eyes closed baby!" He noticed how your eyes were squinted, peaking through your eyelids to take a look at him. You giggled and kept them shut again, this game of cat and mouse continued until your hair was all soapy. Your dad then gave you his shampoo, knowing you would have wanted to wash his hair. It was a tradition between the two of you every time you bathed together. You pulled the shampoo out of his hold, pulling the cap off with your fingers as you squirted a ton of masculine-scented shampoo in your palm. You might be going overboard though, as you kept squirting until the shampoo dripped past your fingertips, right into the tub. Jake's face retorted as he quickly pulled the shampoo from your grip, "that's more than enough baby! My hair is much shorter than yours you know! It will be a waste and we don't want to waste it, don't we!" He grabbed you from under your armpits, pulling you closer to him so that your small figure could touch his hair. You nodded your head at him in agreement, "papa right!" You tried your best to keep the shampoo from overflowing as you smacked your palms onto his head, his hair covered in shampoo. You rubbed your palms into his hair as the shampoo soaped up into bubbles. At the same time, Jake took a washcloth to clean your skin with. He dipped the soft material into the soapy water, wetting it for him to use. He then carefully rubbed the cloth against your skin, cleaning you of any form of bacteria one couldn't see with the normal eye. You giggled at the touch of the material, it tickled. You molded your dad's hair into two cat ears, smiling proudly at your work, "papa done! Papa is a cat!" You plopped back down on your butt, happy that the warm water touched your cold skin. Jake tilted his head to the side with a grin, "did you make me a cat?! Am I a scary cat at least?! Rawr!" He took you in his arms as he blew a ton of raspberries against your cheek. You fell into a fit of squeals as he did so.

Morning with papa was your favorite thing.

Being with papa was your favorite thing.

"Sissy, I'm here. Do not fret sissy." Neteyam knew he had to see his father, his blood, the person with whom his loyalty lay. But with his big sister being in pain, both mentally and physically, as you cried your heart out, Neteyam couldn't take that sight. You rested in his arms as he sat next to your resting figure, the tears rolling down your face as you kept on apologizing to him. He didn't understand why you were acting like this. You saved him and he will be forever in debt to you for this decision. Screw that, he was in debt to you the moment you saw him as 'little bro Neteyam' and not 'the future Olo'eyktan, son of Toruk Makto', which didn't happen so often. He cradled you in his arms as you sniffed, talking in between your sobs, stumbling over your words as you tried to get your point across. "Sissy take your time. I'm here," he took your hand and put it against his cheek in a way to reassure you that you weren't alone, "I'm here." As a response, you just sobbed louder. All the emotions you tried to keep locked inside your heart were bursting out all at once and it didn't help the situation at all. "I'm so sorry Teyam, I'm so sorry I'm so terrible I shouldn't have intervened I'm so sorry." You hiccuped over your words, your breathing irregular as you felt so overwhelmed. "Sissy, take your time, please. Breath for me? In through the nose, out through the lips?" Neteyam's expression retorted into an incredibly worried one. The mighty warrior was breaking at the sight of his distressed sister. With Neteyam's help, you managed to calm your breathing, following his instructions as the two of you did the breathing exercise. The rubbing of Neteyam's thumb against your skin definitely did you some good, as you finally managed to stop your hyperventilating. "I noticed how dad doesn't spend time with you all, I'm so sorry I will do something about it I swear!" You blamed yourself for this, for all of it. Yet Neteyam just flashed you a smile. How come he wasn't angry at you? He should have been angry at you. "Sissy, we never blamed you. He already was like that way before you came along. So stop worrying sissy, please." You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you in a laying position on the bed. "But he's gonna die, Teyam. Daddy is going to die."

"Dad is strong, sweet sissy. We will go through it, together. You, me, Lo'ak, Tuk, Kiri and mom. We can do it." His words rung into your head as he spoke. Dad was strong, but was he strong enough to survive this one?

"Time is ticking, Jake. You don't have all day you know!" Tommy got up from his seat, walking around the living room as he taunted his struggling brother. Jake really didn't know what to do. Was it selfish for him to live? After all this time? After the way he mistreated his family? After the way he treated you? Wouldn't it be better if he died honorably right now? Died protecting his children? He held his head in his hands as he thought, staring at his own reflection on the ground. Ironic really. He was so happy to give up his human life, yet looking at his Na'vi self right now made him sick to the stomach. Made him remind himself of what led up to what he had become this instant. A tug on his loincloth kicked him out of his thoughts. As he slowly looked up, he came face to face with you. Mini you. Small little precious you. Who looked at him with your wide innocent eyes before everything went into shit. "Papa!" Your voice rang through the living room and Jake couldn't help but tear up. He slowly moved his hand up to your cheek, to touch you, and feel your warmth, but his hand went right through you. "Papa?" You tugged at him once again. "That right there, is the sight of your daughter you failed to watch grow up into what she is now." Tommy stood in front of the couch, hands on his hips as he tilted his head. "You failed as a father, you really did." He brought one of his hands in the air, watching how mini you disappeared when he snipped his fingers. "No! Baby!" Jake tried to wrap his arms around you as you disappeared, but to no avail. You truly disappeared, leaving Jake with a tear-stained face. A picture frame was thrown on his lap. He took it in his hands as the tears rolled. It was the picture he took with Neytiri and the kids. The picture where little Tuk was in his lap as his dearest family stood behind him. Tommy watched his brother with pity, again snipping his fingers, making the picture disappear. "You don't deserve to live, Jake. I was supposed to be in your place and you should be rotting on earth," Tommy got closer to his brother, gripping him by the back of the neck and pulling at him for the twins to make eye contact, "but when do you ever listen to someone else?"

"Ma Jake!" Neytiri basically launched her way into the lab, tail swishing harshly from side to side as she looked around. Her ears were pressed against her head as she squinted her eyes, "where is Ma Jake?!" She pushed her way through the lab, knocking materials over and slamming humans into the wall. But she could care less. The fact that she was in a human environment was one thing. "Mom! Here!" Lo'ak yelled all the way from the back of the lab, his ears perked when he caught his mother's voice. Neytiri's ears twitched at the all too familiar sound of her troublesome son, stomping her way through the lab to follow the sound of her son's voice. "Oh, Ma Jake.." Neytiri's hand made its way to her mouth when she entered the room, watching how bad his condition is. She glared at Norm and Max in the room, her eyes soon gazing at all the unfamiliar machines connected to her mate. "What is all that?!" She hissed at them as she got closer to her mate. They may had a part in the fight against the RDA almost two decades ago, but that didn't mean she fully trusted them. They were still sky demons in her eyes. "Mom wait no! It's helping him! Look, it's showing his heart rate and all that!" Lo'ak frantically pointed at the screens and wires in an attempt to show his mother that everything was safe. Neytiri didn't reply, as she got on her knees and took a hold of Jake's hand. She pressed her forehead against his skin, taking in his warmth as she sobbed. Her sister, her father, her people, her home, her Seze, Tsu'tey. Please, not her Jake too.

"Hey little kid!!" Tommy crouched down as you ran into his arms, hugging his niece with a huge smile on his face. "Looka papa!" You squealed his nickname with a huge smile as you kissed his cheek. Tommy and Jake were twins, lookalikes, so you called Tommy 'Looka papa' instead of uncle: lookalike of papa. It made Jake jealous, as you were his daughter. He would never voice this insecurity, though. There used to be these instances when you were still a baby and the twins were with you at the same time, them passing you to one another as you both called them papa, not seeing the difference at that time. "Hey Tom! Thank you for your greeting!" Jake sarcastically exclaimed as he wheeled towards the two of you, clearly annoyed that you took off to his twin. Tommy chuckled, putting you back down and rubbing your pigtails, "no need to be so jealous, grumpy pa. She's your kid." You giggled as your uncle rubbed your head, bringing your hands up to his hand as you held it. You had no idea what this entire conversation was about and you could care less. "I'm not jealous, you freak. Let's just go get lunch." Jake was still grumbling, turning his wheelchair around and wheeling to their final destination. Your wide eyes drooped as you looked up at your uncle, "papa go?" As response, Tommy took you in his arms yet again, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. "Don't worry kiddo! We are following pa for food! Hungry for eggs?" He tickled your stomach, causing you to squeal. "Yes egg!"

"So? What is it going to be, pa?" Tommy sat back down, slapping his brother's thigh with his hand. This took too long for him. He wanted to go back to wherever he came from and chill. Not play ghost therapist.

"Will I hurt anyone if I go back?"

"Only one way to find out, pa."

Pa. That terrible nickname Tommy called him when he entered fatherhood because of you. Even though it was a terrible nickname, he had earned this nickname by being a father.

He could earn it again by choosing to live and be a better father.

For Neteyam.

For Lo'ak.

For Tuk.

For Kiri.

For you.

"His heart rate is increasing drastically!!" The fast beeps of the heart monitor rang through the room. Neytiri's ears perked up at that sound, gently removing her tear-stained face from her mate, "what does that mean, demon?" Her grip on Jake was tight as she spoke, silently praying to Eywa that that meant something good. Jake rose from his laying position, his body aching everywhere as he did so. He frantically scanned the room as he sat up, his eyes immediately landing on Lo'ak. "Sir I'm so sor-" it hurt Jake to know that those words would be the first thing that his son would say. An apology. And that word. Sir. He despised it. To cut Lo'ak off, Jake wrapped his arm around his son, immediately pulling him into a hug, "I'm glad you're okay, my son." With his other arm, mind you, that was incrediblt bruised and bloody, he brought Neytiri close to him, also pulling her into a hug, "I'm home, yawne." Lo'ak's eyes were wide at the previous sentence. No scolding. No screaming. No words of degredation. Just him. His son. Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan.

"Sissy are you sure about this?" Neteyam watched as you tried to get up, an awkward grip on you as he didn't know how to hold you because of the size difference. You nodded your head as black spots covered your vision, "I'm going to dad. You should check up on Kiri and Tuktuk." But Neteyam didn't agree with this dismission. He wouldn't leave you alone. Not in this state, both mentally and physically unstable. "No sissy, I'm staying with you. You shouldn't be alone feeling like this, let's go." Without listening to anymore of your protests, he carried you in his arms firefighter carry style, your body dangling off yours. "Neteyam put me down!!"

"No!!" He was being a stubborn little brother right now, but you didn't mind. It was actually pretty nice. Neteyam jogged towards the labs with you on his shoulder. There were a lot of pods, so he ended up asking a human passerby, who points them to the lab your dad is in. He thanked the human before continuing on his way. "Sissy open the door!" He crouched a bit as your hands touched the doorhandle of the lab they were presumably in. You obeyed his request as you pushed the door open, Neteyam barging in with big steps, "Where's dad!?" He glared at the humans, who instead of answering gaped at the future Olo'eyktan. "I don't want to repeat myself, where is dad!?" As a shaky voice answered him, his head flinched to face the human, tilting his head to awaiten an answer. The human ended up pointing instead of talking, too nervous to say anything. You quickly thank him, as Neteyam didn't think of replying, your not so little Na'vi brother carrying you to your dad like you requested. Of course he wanted to see his father as well. As the two of you stood in front of the closed door where presumably your father would be in, you opened your mouth to speak, "You can put my down Teyam. It's okay, thank you so much." He smiled at the sound of your voice, his ears twitching as his tail swished from side to side. He obeyed your orders and crouched down, allowing you to step off his shoulders. You still held on his arm though, as you still felt dizzy. Your hand moved to the doorhandle as your breath hitched in your throat. Neteyam looked down on you, giving you a reassuring headrub, "I'll be here." Your eyes wandered to his face as you nodded with a smile, facing the door and pushing it open. All eyes watch how the door opened and you shyly smiled at your father.

"Daddy?"

A/N: goodbye this part is too messy. Might switch to standalone oneshots after "opposites attract" cause this and writing an entire novel truly is a lot. Thank you so much for reading and lmk your thoughts. <3

You are always making noise. Whether it’s the murmur of a song under your breath, or the soft rumble of a tune in your chest, there isn’t a time Neteyam can remember where you were silent. You always seem to be in your own world, big eyes faraway as you release the most beautiful sounds.

“Songbird.” The greeting comes out much harsher than he intended, but he’s still wound painfully tight from an argument with his father.

You jump, spine straightening at the unexpected voice. Your eyes widen as they flit over his tense frame, curious gaze finally catching his after an agonizing few seconds.

“Neteyam?” Your cheeks warm at the nickname he’d given you as children.

At first, you were a bit offended, being compared to a bird, but after much reassurance from him, you understood that it was just his adolescent brain’s way of saying he likes the way you sing.

He lets out a long breath, slowly folding into a seated position beside you. Without hesitation, you move the weaving supplies that previously covered your lap, setting them to the side. He doesn’t stop, fluidly laying his head down across your thighs.

It’s a practiced motion, a familiar position the two of you often find yourselves in. You know exactly what he needs, without him speaking a word. As he settles into your lap, shifting a bit to get comfortable, you begin humming his favorite melody.

His eyes flutter closed, shoulders instantly dropping in relief. Your voice washes over him, soothing his worries, his anger, within seconds. One of your hands moves to his hairline, fingertips drawing a gentle path down his temple.

You repeat the motion, soft touch trailing across his forehead, down his nose, over his cheeks. Even his lips, always pursed so tightly, relax and part beneath your warm caress.

This is how things are between you.

When Neteyam feels overwhelmed, burdened by the responsibility that’s been thrust upon him since birth, he runs to you. He can’t place when it first happened, when he first realized that you’re the key to keeping him calm. Keeping him sane.

But now that you’re his personal music box, he knows he can never go back. He’s reliant on it—on you. He needs the soothing sound of your voice to calm down after fights with his dad and Lo’ak, or hard missions. Hell, most of the time, he can’t even sleep without at least a quick song.

And you—his quiet, sweet girl—have never passed judgement. Never said a single word in opposition when he pulls you from duties, or friends, or even family. You simply send him a heart-stopping smile, let him drop into your waiting embrace, and sing.

That is, until one fateful day when he royally screwed things up.

He’d had what might possibly be the worst morning of his entire life. He woke to the sound of yelling, his father already grilling Lo’ak about his latest reckless behavior. He peeled himself from bed, suffering his dad’s leftover wrath as he demanded help with a raid.

It went terribly. His Ikran wasn’t listening, they barely made out with any supplies, and he nearly got himself killed. Of course, this led to more yelling, being grounded, and a light scolding from his grandmother as she patched him up.

By lunchtime he was so tightly wound, he knew the slightest push would make him explode any second. That’s when you showed up, singing your favorite song under your breath. Your face lit up when you saw him, despite the deep crease in his brow and downturn of his lips.

You plopped down beside him as he ate amongst the clan, humming quietly for the both of you. It was obvious he needed you, as he always did. You were happy to help, to aid him in any way that you could. Except, this time, he didn’t fall into you. He actually tensed further, broad shoulders bunching with irritation.

“Can you stop?” He barked harshly, catching you off guard.

You blinked up at him with big eyes, instantly falling silent. “What?”

He let out a rough sigh, narrowed eyes slicing to you. Anger tightened his chest, twisted his stomach with something ugly. He couldn’t help it, despite the tiny voice in the back of his head begging him to stop, to take a deep breath before his next words, he couldn’t fight the rising emotion.

“You’re always so—” He grunted with frustration, looking away. “Can I just get two seconds of quiet? For once?”

Your lips parted in shock, eyes rounding in his direction. He refused to look at you, jaw tensing as he picked at the food on his plate. You studied him for a long moment, heart clenching at his dismissal. Moisture blurred your vision, but you quickly blinked the tears away, refusing to cry in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” The whispered apology was all you could muster as you gathered your things and rushed away.

One week.

It takes Neteyam seven days to figure out that something is wrong.

At first, he thinks he may be getting sick. He just doesn’t feel right. Something is off, and he can’t place it. He’s tense at all times, back muscles painfully tight. A constant frown mares his features, brow creased with irritation.

He isn’t sleeping well, either. He tosses and turns at night, mind racing to find the cause of his unease.

He tries to talk to you, to spend time with you, but you’re always busy. The second you see him, you’re tucking tail and practically running away. He’s heard your song a few times, when he searches for you in those moments of heightened emotion, but when your eyes catch his, you fall silent. If he happens to spot you within the clan, your soothing voice is nowhere to be found.

It’s eating him alive, the fact that you won’t let him hear you. It makes him feel on edge, wondering if he’s done something to upset you. Or worse, the voice of doubt whispers that you’ve gotten tired of him, that you’ve found the company of another more appealing.

Finally, he can no longer take it, and decides enough his enough. He’s losing his mind, completely unable to focus on even the most mundane of tasks. He needs you to calm him, whether you’re previously engaged or not.

He spots you around the raging fire one night, talking and laughing with your friends. His now constant frown deepens, arms crossing in frustration as he approaches the group.

“Song—ah, Y/N.” He scratches at the back of his neck, cheeks warming with embarrassment. “Can we talk?”

The smile drops from your face, making his stomach churn with unease. Your hips shift uncomfortably, hands clasping tightly in your lap. Your shoulders round, chin lifting as you try to muster the strength to avoid him yet again.

“I don’t think—”

Before you can even finish, he’s grabbed your bicep, firmly hoisting you to your feet.

“She’ll only be a minute.” He calls over his shoulder, the assurance met with a chorus of giggles as your friends watch him pull you away.

“Neteyam—” You try, but he simply ignores you.

Your legs stumble to keep up with his rushed pace. He doesn’t stop until he’s dragged you into the forest, brought you to a secluded section just outside Home Tree. He suddenly turns on his heel and drops your arm, causing you to take a step back in surprise.

“What is wrong?” He demands, voice rough.

Your breath hitches at the intensity in his gaze as his eyes bore into yours. You sputter for a few beats, mouth opening and closing as you search for the right words.

“I-I don’t…” Your heart thrums wildly between your ribs, having never expected him to confront you so directly.

“You haven’t been singing. Why aren’t you singing, songbird?” His tone softens, eyes rounding with concern.

He takes a step forward, closing the distance between you so that he can reach out, cradling your face in his palm. You blink up at him, chest heaving with pent up emotion. He’s so close. Too close to remain platonic, but neither of you move an inch.

You force down a thick swallow, throat hoarse. Moisture blurs your vision as you remember his words, remember the way he snapped at you. Though you know you have a nice singing voice, you’re aware that the constant noise can be irritating to some.

You’ve seen the sideways glances, heard the scoffs and sighs of annoyance when you’re around. But you can’t help it, music is always in your mind, swelling until you can’t contain it anymore.

The only reason you’ve embraced it, continued humming and singing despite the occasional comment from the clan, is Neteyam. The way he relies on you, uses you for comfort, it gives you meaning. Gives you purpose. Shows you that your voice can do good, that it isn’t just some annoying quirk.

But then…

“Oh, songbird.” He coos gently, thumb swiping away a falling tear. “Tell me, please.”

Your chin wobbles with the effort of keeping the words in, of sparing him the details he already knows. Realization suddenly dawns as his worried gaze flickers over your crestfallen expression.

His eyes widen, heart crashing into his stomach as his own stupid words replay in his mind.

“Is this about what I said?” The question rushes from his lips in a single panicked breath.

“No! No, of course not, I—”

Before you can finish the lame excuse, his arms are around you. He pulls you onto the ground with him, settling you into his lap. Heat prickles your skin at the intimate position. Though you've been close many times before, it's always him laying on top of you in some way. Now that you’re the one in his arms, nervousness grips your chest.

“Songbird...” His large hands engulf both sides of your face, guiding it up toward his. “I’m so sorry. I never should've said those things. I was upset with my father, and I never should've taken it out on you.”

Your eyes widen, unsure what to make of his sweet words. “It's okay, Neteyam, really—”

“No,” His head shakes rapidly. “No, you don't understand. I'm a mess without you. I can't sleep, can't focus. Can't even fly my damn Ikran right. I need to hear your voice. Sing to me, please?”

Breath lodges in your throat, brows lifting in surprise. You’ve never heard him so open, so vulnerable. It’s left you speechless, heartbeat echoing loudly in your ears.

When you don’t respond, his hands wrap around your hips, gently pulling you off his lap. Your eyes pop wide, but you make no move to stop him as he guides you back until you’re propped against a nearby tree. His eyes flick to yours in question before he slides down, wrapping his arms tightly around your middle.

You stiffen, spine straightening as he presses his face into your stomach, laying his body beside you. One of his legs tangles with yours, parting your thighs so he can nestle himself between them.

“I just need a good nights sleep, please, songbird? Help me?” He murmurs lowly, the sound vibrating the soft skin of your stomach.

Your skin is on fire, blazing in every spot he touches. All you can do is stare down at him, mouth agape, but his eyes are already closed. Your heart melts, any lingering resentment crumbing at the sight of him so desperate on top of you.

You can’t stay mad at him, no matter how hard you try.

Slowly, quietly, you begin to hum a familiar tune. Instantly, Neteyam sighs, relief flooding his system. You’re a bit hesitant, after not singing for an entire week. Your voice is hoarse, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Your hands fall onto his head, fingers tangling in his braids. He moans lowly, a soft tremor rolling down his spine. Your face feels impossibly hotter at his little noise of satisfaction. You’ve never seen him like this, so pliant under your touch.

Within minutes, you’re singing his favorite song, beautiful words washing over him. His breathing slows, eyes growing heavy as he finally feels at peace for the first time in days. Before you know it, he’s fast asleep.

You can’t help but smile down at him, fingers dancing across his scalp soothingly. Now that he’s back in your arms, everything feels right once again.

You hadn’t been careful enough, wandering into unmarked territory against the warnings of the scientists, when the body of a lengthy na’vi jumped down onto the overgrown forest floor below your shoes. He stood to his full height to leave you swallowing your tongue, eyes humorously wide and the lump in your throat bobbing nervously.

He looked down at you with such a piercing glare that your legs nearly turned to putty, his knife drawn but only pointed in your direction, not pressed to your throat like he would if you were a male. Human or not, you were still a woman, an unusually small one at that, and his mother taught him better.

His voice rumbled from deep in his chest, with an accent so thick you nearly had trouble understanding him when he demanded you speak of your purpose here, to save you from an untimely death he prayed he wouldn’t have to deliver.

He asked you a question that would require eye contact to ensure sincerity. However, his amber eyes wandered from yours, revealing he wasn’t at all threatened by you in the slightest, just perplexed. You answered frantically, your voice an embarrassing array of stutters while you promised your intentions were harmless, picking up the belongings you had dropped on the ground out of fear. He stared so intently, studying your much smaller frame, the way your features differed so vastly from his, the way you seemed so out of place yet you could breathe his air. You intrigued him— much to his reluctance.

He listened closely to your explanation, hard features and pursed lips softening at the sight of your trembling hands. He instructed you to leave and advised against coming back. He shooed you away and free of his hold with a tilt up of his chin, returning his knife back into the sheathing on his hip. Though he was out of your sight as you hurriedly made your way back to the lab, you were never out of his. He made his way into the trees and travelled from branch to branch, all the way to the edge of the forest to make sure you got out safely, something he would be doing more often than he expected.

From that moment on, you were more careful when you ventured out but a part of you couldn’t help but want to run into him again, and a part of him knew you wouldn’t listen to him when he told you not to. He could see it in your wondering eyes, an inference he made based on how you had stared at him like he created the stars with his own two hands, lips parted in awe when he stood in front of you.

You decided against telling Max and Norm what or who you had encountered, fearful they would revoke your field privileges, stopping you from ever seeing him again.

For weeks you’d plant yourself in the very same spot he spotted you the first time, childishly hopeful you would run into him again. And you did.

You asked of his name, eyes beady and beaming while they searched for any hint of a fissure in his stoic demeanor, your smile only growing when his deep voice granted you the privilege of knowing him. “Neteyam.” He spoke.

As time passed, you were increasingly less spooked every time he dropped in on you. Meeting him with a smile he now shyly returned, and an offering of some earth fruit he expressed interest in upon seeing it in your lunch box one day. Strawberries, or as he would call them, ‘the pointy red ones’. His favorite.

You wished you had gotten a picture of his reaction when he tried one for the first time. “Would you like to try one?” You’d said, holding the small red berry in front of his mouth and watching him take it from your hand. His cat like ears flickered with a newfound fascination as soon as it hit his tastebuds, eyes widened and blinking and tail swishing in delight. He took it upon himself to raid the rest of them from the minuscule container you held in your hands and shoveled them into his mouth like a kid in a chocolate factory, tuning out your belts of laughter.

And though he had seemed harsh the first time he saw you, it was only due to his innate protective nature. He couldn’t fathom why a feeble girl such as yourself, much less a human would be out so deep into the forest, especially without company.

So from that point on, he decided that he would follow you— just to make sure you weren’t disrupting any of the forest life with your research, of course. No other reason. You had never asked him to come along, he simply offered. He was more than interested in what you were doing and endlessly asked questions about the instruments you’d use to collect data, but unknown to you, he was mostly intent on keeping you safe. Because he enjoyed being around you, with you, and he couldn’t figure out why.

But it was apparent now; that Neteyam had developed a soft spot, an infatuation for someone who belonged to the very species him and his people despised. You.

The way he’d make the time in between the hours of his days to guide you through the forest, allowing you to gather rare samples without fear or collect those small, golden glowing flowers you swore reminded you of the dandelions back home. The day he kneeled in front of you, letting you place one between the plaits of his soft hair had been one you played over and over again in your mind while you laid in bed at night.

He’d sit with you, face to face on a blanket that was much too small to share with one his size, a curious finger prodding at your lip and hooking down into your jaw to pry it open. He’d peer into your mouth with a tilted glance as if he were a dentist, braids sweeping over his shoulders when he moved. “No fangs?” He’d query, making you giggle while your tongue swished around to find a comfortable spot around the intrusive finger. A wide, toothy grin would spread across his face at the sound of your laugh, his eyes lighting up and scanning your face to figure out how to make you do it again.

He’d hoist you up onto his back, more than willing to show you the parts of the forest you couldn’t see for yourself. Him leaping through the canopy trees and vast foliage while you clung to his body like a monkey would to its mother, giggling everytime a three fingered hand would reach around to check on you. Your unfiltered squeals and screams of excitement only made him jump higher and climb faster, almost like he wanted to impress you.

It was in the way he began bringing you small, hand-crafted trinkets or woven jewelry, made in your size to the best of his abilities due to his much larger hands. When you asked him why, he shrugged and said it was just a way of being nice— unknown to the fact that you read Grace’s old research logs where things such as the ones he gave you were noted as ‘courting gifts’ in na’vi culture.

The two of you would often relax together, perched on a branch, your back pressed to his stiff chest with his arms looped around to the front of your body. A blush would creep past your neck and to your cheeks when you’d feel his nose press into your hair, his breathing deepening while he took in your scent. He found it intoxicating, so new and foreign that he couldn’t help himself. His azure fingers would toy and intertwine with yours, amber eyes ogling the size of your tiny hands against his with utmost interest.

It shocked you, how intrigued such a fascinating being was with you, a normal human. Everything about him was so much more compelling, yet here he was, eager to get to know every part of you over and over again, seemingly conducting his own research.

His eyes had trailed over you while you sat with legs crossed in front of him, scribbling observations of the land down into a notebook when his hand reached forward to innocently tug at the strange looking clothing that always covered your body, his effortless strength nearly making you topple over. “Why do you wear all of these things? There’s no need, and they look uncomfortable.” His eyes big and focused, had he been a human boy you would have smacked his hand away at the obvious insinuation and probably filed a restraining order.

But Neteyam was different, everything about you and your kind was unknown to him. So you only looked up at him with a soft smile, finding his genuine confusion adorable. And even when you explained to him why you wore such extensive coverings back on earth, his eyebrows stayed furrowed, like he couldn’t understand it. The sexualization of the body was not something familiar to him and his people, and when you told him you faced dangers on your own planet because of it, you noticed his jaw tense in frustration.

After weeks of asking, he finally agreed to tutoring you in the na’vi language. He was patient with you, more patient than anyone your own species had ever been. He’d laugh heartily at you when your tongue would loll around in your mouth clumsily, watching your face scrunch up with determination while you terribly butchered the word he had demonstrated just moments prior. He’d shake his head to himself at your pouting when you realized you said it incorrectly, then pronounce it back to you, slower.

It was clear that in the short time spent with Neteyam, you had already won his heart. The way the rough pad of his thumb would smooth against the skin of your lips, taking note of how soft it was, and how they were pink instead of blue, like his. He had leaned in before you could realize, languidly brushing his lips against yours with a hum before pulling away. “Hm,” He cocked his head to the side and feigned confusion, the corner of his mouth slightly perking into a grin at your flustered appearance before he mimicked something he always heard you say. “I think I need to take some more samples.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Neteyam agrees. 

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

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

“No,” he answers slowly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No?” 

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

“Neteyam,” Neytiri sighs. 

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

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

Neteyam’s blood runs cold. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake squeezes his eyes shut. 

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

That draws another huff of humorless laughter from Neteyam. 

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

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

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

His face morphs as the quiet words leave your lips. 

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

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

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

He lets out a frustrated sigh. 

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

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

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

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

Love. 

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

“Afraid of what?” he bites. 

“Of loving me back,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

“How long have you known?” 

“Known what?” you ask quietly. 

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

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

“What?” he snaps.

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

He scoffs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see…” you trail off quietly.

“Do you?” he asks, tone facetious. 

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

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I do.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he agrees in a whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About our union,” he starts. “I–” 

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

Neteyam’s spine stiffens.

“Why would you…” 

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

It makes his heart squeeze. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I–” 

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

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

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

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

“How did you…why do you–” 

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

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

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

Blood. You’re bleeding. 

“What the fuck?” 

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head vehemently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait,” he says sharply. “Don’t—”

Your bloody hand brushes his chin. 

“Make sure…make sure they are…” 

“She must rest.” 

“It will only be for a moment.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m here.” 

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

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

“I told you–” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neteyam continues for the both of you. 

“I thought that I wouldn’t…that I…” 

You watch as he crumbles. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He takes a step forward. 

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

“And what happened to paying you no mind?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t be insufferable, Neteyam.” 

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

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

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

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

“Stop,” you whisper meekly. “We–”

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

neng © 2023

Quick, purposeful strides lead him to a nearby tent, a sort of command center where the clan keeps technology they’ve collected throughout the years. A heavy sigh falls from his lips as he digs into a pile of tablets until he finds one with enough battery.

Long fingers type in a familiar code. While he waits, the monotonous drone of the outgoing call grating on his already fried nerves, his free hand moves up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

His conversation with you plays on repeat through his mind. He can’t make sense of it, can’t understand why you would betray them. From the beginning, he’s vouched for you, put his neck out for you. He took care of you, gave you a safe place to stay, made sure no one bothered you too often.

Hell, he let you into his family, sharing meals with you, even offering his son as a trainer. He can’t fathom a reason for you to go back to the humans, to the lab, unless you were working against his clan. His family.

It makes his stomach churn with something dark, the idea that while you slept among his people, you were actively plotting with humans. A fierce protectiveness clouds his mind, makes it hard to rationalize past keeping his family out of harms way.

Even still, the natural born leader within him—the marine mindset he’ll never shake—demands that he get more information. The voice of reason, however tiny, has convinced him to prove that this feeling, this fear that you’ve crossed him is correct.

He’s ripped from his thoughts as the screen in his hands lights up, a beaming Norm coming into focus.

“Hey, Jake!” He calls happily, half of his face missing as he quickly sets something on his desk before plopping down in a plush chair.

“Norm.” Jake greets, voice rough. He clears his throat, trying to rid himself of the lingering tension from the confrontation. “You remember that girl you wanted to study?”

Every muscle in his body is stiff, taunt with anxiety. The need to settle this as quickly as possible overrides the pleasantries they typically exchange. Decisions must to be made. He has a clan to run, to protect, and he can’t afford to let a traitor spend one more second than necessary among his people.

“What, Y/N?” Norm perks up, back straightening. His eyes widen with excitement, thinking he may finally get the chance to talk with you again. “Yeah, of course. What about her?”

“She work for you?” Jake recalls the first time he met you, when he asked if you were from a lab.

You didn’t hesitate to respond in the affirmative, but he’d completely overlooked asking which lab.

Over the years, he’s kept an eye on the humans they allowed to stay on Pandora nearly two decades ago. He and his people make constant rounds as far out as possible, ensuring the perimeter Home Tree is safe.

But he’s always on high alert, unable to rid himself of the worry that some have slipped through the cracks. With enough motivation and RDA resources, a group of hostiles could theoretically hide out in the lush Pandoran environment.

He allowed himself to get swept up in the mysticism, the wonder of Eywa choosing you. He saw something in you then, a familiarity akin to his younger self. When he was lost, heartbroken, and alone, he felt chosen too. He was chosen, led by Eywa herself to mount the great Toruk and become the man he is today.

Things moved so quickly after that, the focus on your training overriding any lingering doubt. He didn’t take the time to properly vet you, and now his clan may be paying the price.

“Yeah?” Norm’s head tilts, brows pinching in question.

He responds quickly, as if it should be obvious. He’s only interacted with you a handful of times throughout the years, but constant check-ins with your supervisors have kept you on his radar. And that was before you became a medical marvel.

A fraction of tension in Jake’s back releases, though it’s almost instantly replaced by a hot wave of remorse. His stomach hallows, heart sinking as he rethinks the events of the morning. A large hand swipes down his face in irritation, a rough sigh leaving his lips.

He’s always had a short fuse, especially when it comes to his family. He thought they may be in danger and he just…reacted.

“Doing what?” He visibly cringes, thinking back to the way he’d gone through your things, read your personal diary.

The harsh words he’d carelessly thrown your way, the hard tone of his voice, it all replays on a loop. The fear in your eyes, the tears you’d so desperately tried to contain, it’s painfully clear to him now. There was never a chance in hell you betrayed them.

“Field research. On plants, mostly. Why, what happened?” Jake’s eyes pinch closed, though the utter confusion behind Norm’s words is obvious.

Fuck, he silently chastises, such a skxawng (idiot).

It’s obvious you haven’t been forthcoming about certain things, but he never should’ve equated that with betrayal. He allowed the voices at his side to sway his thoughts, to blind his critical thinking with ideas of his family being in danger.

“Neytiri happened.” His jaw clenches, frustration tightening his chest.

A new determination ignites within him, to ask the right questions, to get the full picture of what you’ve been up to. That is, if you’re willing to talk to him at all.

Norm erupts with a deep laugh, throwing his head back at Jake’s expense.

“Well then, I wish you the best of luck! Hey, I gotta jet. Talk soon.” With that, he ends the call, the screen immediately fading to black.

Jake lets out one last sigh of self-pity before squaring his shoulders, tossing the tablet back into the pile, and striding out of the tent. The walk back to the Sully tent is quick, but he stops short as soon as he’s through the door, met with a different sight than the one he left.

His eyes sweep the space, confirming that you’re nowhere to be found. Lo’ak stands in the center of the room, shaky hands turning the pages of your journal. He’s hunched forward, head hung low, eyes darting over the words and images rapidly.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, he looks up, wide, glistening eyes meeting Jake’s. His breath stills at the heartache, the absolute devastation peering back at him.

“What did you do?” His voice is low as he takes a few tentative steps forward, arm outstretched as if unsure what Lo’ak might do.

“I—I messed up, dad.” Lo’ak’s chest quivers, breath coming out in short pants. A single tear rolls down his cheek, a show of emotion Jake hasn’t seen in years. “I think I really messed up…”

He’s across the room in a flash, roughly pulling Lo’ak under his arm. They embrace for several long moments in silence, stewing over the mistakes they’ve both made. Jake’s eyes drift toward the door as he provides quiet stability for his son, brows furrowing with worry.

You’re officially lost.

Darkness blankets the forest, bioluminescence the only guiding light as you trek through thick foliage. Your legs ache, muscles pushed well past their usual ability. Exhaustion pulls at your very being, but you press on.

You’re thirsty, throat hoarse and chest hallow from how violently it’s been heaving with emotion. For the first hour or two, you couldn’t have stopped crying even if you wanted to. It isn’t just the ugly words that Jake and Lo’ak spat at you repeating through your mind. It’s the implication, the knowledge that now, you have nowhere to go.

If you stayed in that tent, you would’ve been thrown out, or worse. There’s no doubt in your mind. It’s why you ran. That, and you couldn’t stand to see the darkness in Lo’ak’s glare for even a second longer.

It haunts you. Every time your eyes close, you see it. The molten betrayal, the hatred that Lo’ak so easily cast your way. Your heart constricts painfully, another wave of despair wracking your chest as you replay the harsh words you never expected to come from him.

Maybe they’re right.

You can’t help but double over, hands bracing against your middle as hot moisture blurs your vision. Your stomach twists and rolls, nausea nearly bringing you to your knees. You’re sure you’d be sick if anything was in your stomach.

The skin of your face is raw, fingers tired from swiping endless hot tears away. The sockets behind your eyes throb, eyelids so tender and swollen it hurts to even blink.

The worst discomfort, the pain you can’t ignore, lies within your chest. Your heart hurts. It shudders every time your mind wanders to your time within the clan, wondering where it all went wrong.

You feel like a fool.

Despite your earlier reservations, the clan, Lo’ak, quickly started to feel like home. All the hours you’ve spent with him, learning, practicing, growing closer with every lingering touch and heated glance. It felt so good, so right.

For the first time in your life, you weren’t stuck behind a glass box, forced to observe the beauty of Pandora from afar. Lo’ak opened that door, showed you things you’d only dreamt of experiencing firsthand.

Just as the seed of belonging was planted, it was ripped away, a harsh reminder of who you really are. You’re not Na’vi, or Omatikaya. You aren’t even human anymore. You’re something in between, cursed to forever wander the line between worlds, never quite fitting into either.

You’ve been living in a fantasy for the last three months, desperately holding onto the childish hope that one day, you’ll find your true home. This reality check, however painful, was inevitable.

Something cracks within a tree above, wrenching you from your spiraling thoughts. You can’t help but flinch, every little noise keeping you on high alert. In your haste to escape, you hadn’t grabbed so much as an arrow for protection.

You’re completely defenseless, wandering through the Pandoran forest with little sense of direction. At the time, the need to get away was overwhelming, no matter the consequence, but now you feel massively unprepared to survive the night.

Your eyes squint against the low light, trying to see anything discernible through the trees. It all looks the same, nothing but a sea of green staring back at you. You’re deeper in the forest than ever before, anxiety knotting your stomach as the fear that you may never make it out slowly consumes you.

A loud squawk sounds overhead, and you duck instinctively. A hand comes up to shield your head as you peer upward, eyes dancing across the black sky. A thick branch sways right above your crouched form, a rumbling thump sounding as if something has landed on it.

Your muscles tense, heart slamming against your ribs, as you duck into the closest bush. Your eyes pop wide with unease, watching the leaves of the nearby tree quake. Rough twigs scratch at your exposed skin as you press deeper into the bush. You ignore the light sting and sit as still as possible.

A low chittering noise makes your breath catch. Trembling fingers cover your mouth as you will your heaving chest to settle. Fear licks up your spine, knowing that your chances of survival are low if an animal takes interest in you.

The tree’s lower branches sway and dip before a large animal leaps onto the ground only a few feet away. All you can do is watch, mouth agape with wonder, as it shakes out massive wings. You’re utterly frozen, not even mobile enough to take a single breath.

Not only is an Ikran standing before you, but it’s the same Ikran from your earlier flight with Lo’ak. You’d recognize it anywhere, the bright spots of purple and blue unmistakeable even in the low light of nightfall. You remember the way it took an interest in his Ikran, wouldn’t leave you two alone until he scared it away.

Wide eyes flick over the animal’s powerful front claws as it settles into the ground, large head swinging from side to side as if looking for something. It’s piercing eyes scan the area quickly, until they land right on you. A startled gasp tears up your throat, spine straightening with panic.

A low growl rumbles it’s chest when it zeroes in on your hiding spot. Almost tentatively, it walks forward one small step at a time. Your stomach flips with terror, but there’s no use in running. You’re hyper aware that this thing could kill you in an instant.

It doesn’t stop until only a foot of space separates you. It’s head turns, beady eye scanning your trembling figure, before it leans down toward the ground. Your eyes track it’s every movement carefully, chest heaving with the effort of remaining still.

Your brow furrows, pure confusion masking the fear forcing your muscles painfully taunt. The Ikran has just exposed it’s neck to you, something a wild animal would never do if it felt threatened.

You can’t help but take a hesitant step forward. Though your heart still thrums wildly in your chest, you’re intrigued by the animal’s odd behavior. Seconds tick by agonizingly slow as you uncurl from your crouched position, tentatively emerging from the bush.

A quivering hand lifts in silent question. The Ikran watches you, but maintains it’s submissive position. A long moment passes before your palm gently lands on rough skin. Air catches in your lungs, fear and intrigue swirling in your stomach.

Your ragged breath is the only sound within the otherwise quiet forest. Slowly, your hand trails down the animals neck, until it reaches the beginning of large wings. The powerful appendage moves beneath your light touch and you tense, rearing back.

Utter confusion gnaws at you. The Ikran growls lowly again, though now you recognize that the sound isn’t meant to be hostile. You resist touching it again, instead opting to bend down to look into its eyes.

“What do you want?” The question is a low murmur, as to not startle it.

The Ikran shakes it’s head and kneels closer to the dirt until it’s back is tilted up toward you. Your eyes pop wide, lips parting in shock. It couldn’t possibly mean…?

Tremors wrack your body again, but this time it’s a twinge of excitement rather than fear that ignites your insides. Slowly, one hand reaches behind your back, fingers lightly gripping your queue. You bring it forward, still hunched over, and present it to the animal.

“Are you asking me to ride you?” Your voice quivers with disbelief.

You’ve only heard of this happening a handful of times in the entire history of the Na’vi people. It’s certainly only happened once within the Omatikaya clan. Kiri’s Ikran famously chose her, omitting her from the grueling experience of claiming one against its will.

Her connection with the Great Mother is unmatched, rivaling even Mo’at occasionally. It makes sense that an Ikran would choose her. But you’re just…you.

The animal rumbles low in its chest, unmoving. You force down a thick swallow, considering your options.

Clearly, the Ikran isn’t going to hurt you. You’re lost, deep in the forest with no supplies and no sense of direction. Hunger and exhaustion weigh heavily within your muscles, a dull ache blanketing your entire body. You’re sure you won’t make it much longer on your own.

At the very least, this provides a way out. Maybe you can figure everything else out later. There isn’t much of a choice, really, not if you want to survive the night.

Without another moment of hesitation, you inhale a deep grounding breath, eyes closing. Your hand gently moves forward, connecting your queue with the Ikran’s.

“Come on, family meeting.” Neteyam murmurs, pulling both Kiri and Tuk toward their shared tent.

They grumble behind him, but otherwise put up no resistance against his gentle hold. The three of them enter their home, instantly noting the thick tension.

Jake stands in the center of the room, arms crossed tightly over his broad chest. Neytiri paces in the far corner, lithe tail whipping side to side behind her. Lo’ak sits on his bed, hunched over, head resting in his upturned palms.

“Alright, sit down.” Jake motions toward the free spaces beside Lo’ak.

His three remaining children obey without protest, sensing that something is very wrong.

“Earlier today there was a…disagreement.” Jake easily falls into the practiced indifference of leadership, hands moving to rest on his hips. “Y/N left, and we expected her to come back by now. So, we’re starting a search party.”

“She ran away?” Tuk’s eyes instantly round with concern, ears flattening against her head. “Why would she do that?”

Silence falls over the tent. Tension rises, so palpable it makes goosebumps erupt on Neteyam’s skin. He hasn’t heard anything of this yet, too caught up in his own duties around Home Tree to notice the turmoil plaguing his own family. His gaze shifts over each of them, confusion pinching his brow.

“Daddy made a mistake, baby girl.” Jake sighs heavily, scratching at the back of his neck with a wince. His gaze briefly flicks toward Lo’ak, watching as his hands roll into fists against his lap.

“I said some things I shouldn’t have, and it scared her. We wanted to give her space to cool off, but now it’s time to bring her back.” His voice is soft as he decides to spare his daughters all the grim details.

“Bullshit.” A quiet voice mutters bitterly, stopping his next words before they can begin.

His eyes slice toward Lo’ak, narrowing pointedly in warning. They’re met with an even harsher glare, Lo’ak’s brow furrowed with unmistakable anger. His spine straightens, fists clenching so tight his nails bite into the flesh of his palms.

“That’s such bullshit.” He repeats, chest heaving with pent up emotion. His furious gaze flicks toward Neytiri, lips pursed into a firm line. “This is all your fault.”

Kiri gasps beside him, hands moving to cover her mouth in complete shock. Tuk’s eyes widen, having never heard her brother speak to their mother with such hostility. Neteyam shoots to his feet instantly, ready to step between them should things escalate.

“Lo’ak!” Jake barks sternly, moving closer to his other side. He knows his son isn’t in a good state of mind right now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll allow any disrespect toward his mate.

Across the room, Neytiri freezes, breath hitching with surprise. She turns toward her youngest son, wide eyes searching his for several long beats.

“I will not apologize for protecting my family.” Her shoulders round, chin rising in defiance.

Lo’ak’s teeth grind, entire body trembling with the effort of remaining seated. He’s completely overwhelmed with emotion. Worry claws at his insides, tearing his gut to shreds each time he thinks about you wandering through the forest, scared and alone.

The harsh words he’d spit at you replay in his mind on a loop, slashing at his chest with every painful syllable. The memory of the broken look on your face, the tears streaming down your cheeks, it absolutely wrecks him.

“She never did anything to you. All she did was try to fit in and you—” He desperately tries catching his breath, but the anxiety only mounts.

“I did what I had to do.” Neytiri’s voice is sharp as she interjects, pointing a thin finger in Lo’ak’s direction. “She should be with her own kind.”

He growls, low in his chest, and swiftly rises to his feet, turning away. His eyes pinch tightly, hands running through his braids harshly. He doesn’t want to snap at her, respecting his elders has been so deeply engrained within him that speaking out of turn is almost unbearable.

But he’s reaching a breaking point, so many volatile feelings swirling inside him he’s sure to explode any second.

“Mom?” Kiri pipes up curiously, truly confused as to what her mother could’ve done to cause all of this.

“Go on, tell her if you’re so proud of it.” Lo’ak spins on his heel, the challenge lethal as the brunt of his anger is directed squarely on Neytiri.

“That’s enough.” Jake shoves against his chest lightly, snapping him out of his furious stupor. He staggers back a step, hard expression crumbing. His lips quiver as a wave of regret overwhelms his rage, and he turns his back to them once again.

“Neteyam, you and I will go. Everyone else is staying put. Understood?”

With the final harsh order, the Sully family disperses. Lo’ak’s watery gaze snaps toward his mother as soon as the door flaps closed, their strong, tight knit relationship under scrutiny for the first time ever.

You stir at the sound of quickly approaching footsteps, bleary eyes blinking rapidly.

Haziness clouds your mind as you come to, head lulling from side to side as consciousness gradually returns.

“Y/N!” The loud echo of your name makes your heart jump in your chest.

Your eyes widen, back tightening with awareness. Dim light illuminates the dirt beneath you, and you realize it must be early morning. Your face screws with pain as your sore muscles come to life, a reminder of the hell you’d put yourself through the night before.

Hasty footsteps come to a halt at your side, the sudden presence making you lurch upright.

“Eywa,” A familiar voice curses lowly. “I thought you were fucking dead.”

Your gaze shifts to the tall figure blocked by the steadily rising sun. A hand moves up to shield your eyes from the light, allowing you to see who stands before you.

“Jesus, Neteyam.” You breathe a sigh of relief, hand sliding down to your chest as you try to calm your racing heart. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m not sure I even want to know…” His eyes scan something over your shoulder, wide with disbelief.

It’s then that you remember how you ended up here, asleep on the forest floor. You’re quick to scramble onto your knees, turning to face the Ikran that’s laying in the dirt behind you.

You’ve been propped up against its side for the last several hours, comfortable enough to allow your exhaustion to win after sealing the bond with a quick flight. Your lips pull into tiny smile as your palms smooth down its neck, tired eyes catching. The animal chitters happily, seemingly unbothered by your new guest.

“You probably won’t believe me, but she…chose me?” Your eyes tentatively glance toward Neteyam, fearing his reaction.

Claiming an Ikran is arguably the highest form of accomplishment a member of the clan can go through. It’s a rite of passage. A necessary step in becoming an adult in the eyes of The People.

It’s something you never thought possible for yourself, and you’re sure he feels the same. He hums low in his throat, eyes shifting between you and the large animal. Suddenly, as if nothing odd has happened at all, he clasps his hands behind his back, spine straightening with formality.

“I’ve been sent to bring you back.” His tone lacks any emotion, all business as he peers down at you over the bridge of his nose.

“Is everyone looking for me?” Your ears drop, stomach hallowing with remorse.

Truthfully, you never intended to stay out this long. You had no plan, but getting lost in the forest for an entire night, and somehow acquiring an Ikran along the way, wasn’t even on your radar.

You feel changed by the experience. Stronger, in a way. You survived a night alone in Pandora’s unforgiving environment. Something has shifted within you, a connection to the very earth beneath your skin having been given life.

“Yes, Lo’ak is a complete mess.” The corner of Neteyam’s lips quirk into a small smirk, answering the real question he knows you want to ask.

Your head jerks up toward him, warmth prickling at your skin. Your eyes search his for a long moment, then cut to the dirt, unable to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds. He’s intimidating, the poised confidence radiating from his every pore suffocating.

“You’re not going to come with me, are you?” His voice is even, resigned to the fact that he won’t be bringing you back.

Moisture blurs your vision, and your eyes roll toward the sky in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. Emotion swells in your chest as the events of the last day come crashing down on your shoulders. You refuse to cry in front of him, chewing on your bottom lip instead to distract yourself from the mounting pressure.

“I can’t.” Your head shakes minutely as you glance up at him through wet lashes.

He sighs, expression softening a fraction. He seems to consider his next words carefully, brows furrowing in thought as strong arms cross over his broad chest.

“I…see you, Y/N. Kiri sees you. Tuk, well, I think you may have taken my place as her favorite.” A light chuckle rumbles his chest and your eyes widen, shocked by the unfamiliar sound.

Long fingers scratch at the back of his neck, skin flaming with embarrassment. He never imagined saying anything like this to you. Since the day you came into his life, he’s hated you for simply existing. He wrote you off instantly, blinded by learned prejudice.

Jake told him the whole story before they split off in their search effort. Neteyam couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret for how he’s treated you, after hearing how much you’ve gone through in silence.

“When we first met, I allowed my mother’s judgement to guide my behavior toward you, and for that I am sorry. I have watched you for several weeks now and—what I am trying to say is…the clan values you.”

Your lips part in utter shock. Disbelief blooms in your chest as his words wash over you. Wide eyes blink up at him, body unmoving as you process the apology.

“My brother is a skxawng (idiot). He always will be. But you have made him better.” Neteyam’s eyes soften as he looks down at you, gaze briefly flicking toward your Ikran.

He’s having a difficult time maintaining his mask of indifference. Truthfully, he can’t believe you somehow claimed the animal on your own. It’s a feat unknown to most, aside from his sister. He can’t deny the respect the accomplishment demands, even if it’s you it happened to.

“I can’t face them, Neteyam. Not yet.” Your voice quivers, a traitorous tear slipping over thick lashes. You’re quick to swipe it away, sniffling quietly as your face turns away from him.

He nods in understanding, lips pulling into a small frown. Although he’s never been through something like this, he sympathizes with the need for time alone to sort through rough emotions. Plus, he has no desire to force your hand.

He reaches toward his hips, quickly untying the woven twine that secures his dagger and its holster at his side. He balls the loose ends into his palm before extending it out toward you.

“Here.” Your eyes flick over the peace offering before drifting back to his in question. “So your death won’t be on my conscience.”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips, relief flooding your chest at the fact that he isn’t going to manhandle you into coming back before you’re ready.

“Thank you.” The gratitude is merely a whisper between you as your fingers close around the weapon.

You both know you aren’t only referring to the small act of kindness, but to his earlier words of assurance. The knowledge that you have someone in your corner brings a warmth to your chest, mending just a tiny fraction of the damage that’s been done.

However unexpected this interaction has been, it’s lit a fire within you, given you the push necessary to press on in your journey of self discovery. Wordlessly, you stagger to your feet, overworked muscles protesting as you reconnect your queue with your Ikran’s.

You mount its back once again, taking flight as if you were born to inhabit the sky.

“You did what?” Lo’ak’s voice is eerily calm, rough with hoarseness as his eyes narrow into a fierce glare.

He takes a step forward, fists clenching at his sides. Jake is quick to move in front of him, large hand pressing against his chest in warning.

“Cool it.” He barks the command at Lo’ak, though his steely gaze is locked on Neteyam across the room. “Your orders were to bring her back.”

“She didn’t want to come.” Neteyam crosses his arms, weight shifting to one hip as if completely unbothered by the situation.

“Oh, Jesus.” Jake’s eyes roll toward the ceiling as he mutters the curse under his breath.

“I’ll fucking skin you alive!” Lo’ak suddenly charges forward, rage tightening his chest. Jake steps away, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Lo’ak doesn’t stop until he’s mere inches from Neteyam’s face, muscles trembling with the restraint of not punching his older brother. He’s been stewing for hours, confined in the family tent with nothing to do but mull over his regret.

He’s paced the perimeter of the tent countless times, pulled at his hair, ground his teeth. Yelled. Cried. He’s gone through every scenario, every possible terrible thing that couldn’t happened to you because of him.

“Where is she?” His voice is low, menacing as he vibrates with pent up anxiety.

Across the tent, Tuk cowers into Kiri’s arms. She’s seen her brothers argue before, but never like this. Their raised voices and tight expressions are making her nervous, scared for what’s about to happen. Kiri holds onto her tightly, lips pursing with irritation.

“I don’t know, she flew away and didn’t tell me where she was going.” Neteyam’s mask of indifference only further ignites the flame of emotion in Lo’ak’s chest.

He’s absolutely seething, but still, can’t help but put aside his anger as Neteyam’s words wash over him. Silence blankets the tent, the rising tension palpable as the entire Sully family stiffens with intrigue. Even Neytiri, still tucked away in the far corner, rises with curiosity.

“Did you just say flew?” Kiri’s voice is breathless with disbelief, and Neteyam’s lips twist, wondering if he’s said too much.

His gaze flicks over the sea of questioning eyes, a tense sigh leaving his lips. He’s in too deep now, knowing there’s no way he’ll get out of this without explaining himself.

“She had an Ikran. Said it chose her.” He treads lightly, shrugging nonchalantly.

A tense best of silence passes before Lo’ak explodes, shoving harshly against Neteyam’s chest with both hands. He staggers back a step, brows raising in surprise. His tail flicks upward, spine stiffening at the challenge.

“What the fuck, bro?” Lo’ak lunges forward again, but Jake is quick to step in front of him, stopping his advance with a palm on his shoulder. He fights against the tight hold, face twisting with rage “You seriously let her go? She doesn’t know what’s she’s doing! She could get hurt!”

“She seemed fine to me.” Neteyam lifts both hands in a sign of surrender, backing away. He doesn’t want to fight his younger brother, well aware that he isn’t in the right state of mind.

He knows it’s vindictive, egging Lo’ak on like this. He’s being purposely combative, but he can’t help it. For some reason, he’s irritated with this entire situation. He resents the way you’ve been treated, cast aside like an enemy before any facts were even confirmed.

Lo’ak settles, expression a tightly wound show of restraint. His heart thunders in his chest, but he fights to appear calm. He’s reached the breaking point. Fear, worry, and remorse twisting his gut so fiercely he’s sure he’ll be sick if he doesn’t do something.

And the worst part? He has no one to blame but himself, knowing his words are what ultimately led to you running away.

Jake hesitantly drops his hand, eyes trained on Lo’ak’s every movement to ensure he won’t do anything stupid. His jaw clenches, narrowed eyes trained on his older brother.

“If anything happens to her…” His hands ball into fists at his sides, unable to finish the threat.

Wordlessly, he stalks toward the door, no one making a single move to stop him as he disappears with a low growl.

Lo’ak has been flying for what must be hours when he finds you.

His heart soars in his chest, a smile of relief pulling at his lips because at the very least you’re alive. Half of the sun is already blinded by the moon, warm light illuminating your figure as it sweeps across the sky.

His eyes dance over your frame, crouched so comfortably over your Ikran.

Your Ikran.

The thought is foreign in his mind, the notion that you’ve finally claimed your own beast igniting a raging fire of mixed emotions within him. He’s so fucking proud, the sight of you riding the animal surpassing his wildest dreams. You’re agile as you swerve through fluffy clouds, navigating the sky with confidence just as he always knew you would.

At the same time, his heart constricts, devastation clawing at his insides. He’s gutted that he missed such a pivotal moment in your journey to becoming one of The People. Images race through his mind, ones of struggle, of isolation and loneliness. You were never supposed to go through it on your own, so lost and confused.

He let you down, he abandoned you because of his own stupid tendency to fall into insecurity. It’s something he’ll never forgive himself for, a gnawing regret that will always plague him each time he watches you take flight.

His Ikran rushes toward you at his internal command, racing through the sky until he pulls up on the reins, coasting beside you easily.

The sight of this milestone becoming a reality lights a flame of excitement so deep within his soul that he can’t help but celebrate, even if he selfishly wants to mourn the fact that he wasn’t there with you when it happened.

“Hell yeah!” He doesn’t try to fight the way his smile widens into a grin, pride swelling in his chest, easing the ache a fraction.

You lurch to the side at his sudden call, muscles tensing. Wide eyes find him, and your breath hitches, stomach twisting with a harsh wave of emotion. Your Ikran leans to the side, sensing your discomfort at his close proximity, and you wobble.

Your hands clutch at the two queues behind it’s head, heart pounding as you attempt to level out. Your thighs tighten around it’s middle, desperately trying to hold on despite the way your mind reels.

Lo’ak’s appearance is so sudden, so unexpected, it’s left you breathless, eyes trained on his figure as he glides through the sky at your side.

“How long have you been flying?” He yells, gaze rounding with concern at the way your Ikran sways unsteadily.

You ignore him, face tightening with determination as you urge your animal forward, speeding up in the hopes of losing him.

“You need to land, Y/N! Your Ikran is tired!” He catches up to you easily, undeterred by your standoffish demeanor.

“Fuck off!” Your tense voice floats over the wind as you fly higher, desperate to put some distance between you.

His brows furrow in irritation, fingers tightening on the reins as he instantly follows. His stomach dips at your obvious anger, chest tightening with remorse. Though expected, it still hurts, knowing it’s his fault that you feel this way.

“You need to land before you fall!” He tries again, coasting beside you for only a brief moment before you peel off to the side, Ikran leaning away from him at your command.

He grunts with frustration, swooping closer yet again. His Ikran flies close to yours, sharp beak nipping at the other animal’s tail in warning. Your Ikran calls out at the unexpected sensation, falling a few feet as it’s wings temporarily give out from overuse.

Your belly rolls uncomfortably, lurching into your throat at the sudden loss of height. Your grip tightens around your Ikran’s queues, suddenly feeling weighed down by both of your exhaustion.

“Alright, girl. I’m sorry.” You murmur, knowing it’s time to give her a break despite how little you want to face Lo’ak.

Within minutes you’ve found a suitable place to touch down, a secluded field deep within the lush forest. No more than a few seconds after your feet have touched the warm earth, your Ikran lowers itself onto the ground, spent from your constant flying.

Your palms smooth over the animal’s rough skin softly, calming its rapid breathing as you disconnect your queues. Without warning, you’re roughly pulled away, a pair of strong arms wrapping around your back.

“Baby, I was so worried.” He breathes a sigh of relief against your hair, head resting on yours as his eyes fall closed.

You’re stiff as a board in his embrace, but Lo’ak doesn’t even notice, too overcome by the comfort of your warm skin on his. He studies the rise and fall of your chest against his, utter joy consuming him at the fact that you’re okay.

His eyes flutter open, gaze falling to the animal over your shoulder. He recognizes it now that he’s closer, realization suddenly dawning that it was never interested in his own beast, but rather was only trying to get to you. His stomach twists, chest tight. Regret weighs heavily on his shoulders, but he shoves it down, lips forming what he hopes is a reassuring smile as he slowly pulls away.

“Let me get a look at you.” His hands smooth up your back and over your shoulders as he holds you at arms length, eyes darting over your figure from head to toe.

He turns you, intending to inspect your back, but you suddenly bat his hands away, twisting out of his loose hold. There’s no strength behind your resistance, but he immediately drops his hands anyway. They tighten into fists at his sides as he fights the urge to pull you against him and never let go.

“Don’t.” Your head shakes in dismissal, eyes prickling with moisture as a swath of emotions bubble to the surface.

You aren’t ready for this. Having him so close, standing right in front of you after the night you’ve just had, it only serves to deepen your wounds. You can’t face him yet, hear his voice again when the last words it spoke to you were so utterly heart-wrenching.

You back up a few steps, and he instantly follows, strides mirroring yours. He can’t help but reach out, fingers circling your wrists to tug you closer. His lips pull into a frown, heart breaking with eatery inch of space put between you.

“Y/N, I’m so stupid. The moon’s biggest skxawng (idiot) for ever thinking you could—” His voice is tight with desperation, heart clenching at the sight of welling moisture in your eyes.

It destroys him, seeing you so broken because of his mistakes. His vision blurs, but he rapidly blinks the tears away, wanting to focus on fixing this, on assuring you nothing like this will ever happen again.

“I don’t want to hear it, Lo’ak.” Your arms weakly twist in his hold, but his grip only tightens. Your chin wobbles, and you look away, hiding the rising emotion behind your braids.

Lo’ak’s breath hitches, expression tightening with a wave of intense anxiety. “Please, you need to listen to me—”

“Oh, I need to listen?” A humorless laugh slips from your lips, anger overriding sadness as you easily jerk free of his hold. Your eyes meet his again, alight with anger. “I need to listen to you?”

The irony isn’t lost on him. He knows he screwed up when he didn’t give you a chance to explain. He’s been kicking himself since the moment you ran away, chastising the way he talked over you, didn’t give you even a moment to defend yourself. But he’s desperate to make this right, he needs you to hear him out, the thought of you casting him aside as he did you unbearable.

A single tear spills from the corner your eye, Lo’ak’s heart splintering with each second it slips down your skin. His eyes track the moisture, and he can’t help himself, one hand moving up to cradle the side of your face, thumb catching the tear before it finishes its journey.

Your lips quiver as you push him away, trembling fingers gripping his arm to peel his skin from yours. Your free hand shoves against his chest and he stumbles, an extra step of space between you that only further rips him apart.

“You didn’t even hesitate.” The accusation is nothing but a mere whisper, shaky with pent up emotion. Your heart aches, constricts harshly in your chest as you’re forced to confront the nasty things he’s said.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, yawne (beloved).” He reaches for you again, the sting of having this conversation without touching you, without the slightest reassurance that you don’t already hate him too painful.

Tears well all over again, blurring his vision, but he ignores them as his fingers curl around your biceps. Selfishly, he needs the comfort. He craves the warmth of your skin. It grounds him, makes him feel like there’s a chance everything might just be okay.

“I—I just…when I heard you and my dad, I thought…” He can’t even finish the excuse, knowing that nothing is good enough to justify the way he treated you.

“I know exactly what you thought.” The words are cold, bitter as you break free from his grasp again.

You rush to turn on your heel, stalking quickly toward your Ikran. There’s so much pressure in your chest, your stomach, all the feelings you’ve tried so hard to squash over the last day rearing with overwhelming force.

Lo’ak’s breath hitches as you reach for your queue, pulse skyrocketing with panic. It tightens his already abused muscles as he runs those extra few feet, stepping between you and the animal with raised hands.

“Wait!” His chest heaves, heart slamming against his ribs. Wide, desperate eyes bore into yours, glistening with too many emotions to decipher. His fingers tremble as he waves them in front of you hastily. “Where are you even going? Let me take you home, please.”

Your brows furrow, lips dropping into a frown as your head shakes in opposition. “I can’t go back there.”

“What are you talking about? The clan is your home. You have an Ikran now. You’re one of The People.” His eyes round hopefully, mouth forming a wobbly smile as he takes a small step toward you.

He feels the last of his control slipping as you pull away, curl inward, further from him. The earth beneath his feet feels unsteady, as if it’ll swallow him whole any second. There’s nothing he can do but watch as your shoulders slump in defeat, a fresh coating of moisture gathering in your eyes yet again.

“You said it yourself. They’ll never accept me.” Your voice is weak as a dejected sigh leaves your lips, feeling a wave of exhaustion waft over you. It’s all too much, the events of the last day and a half finally catching up.

Your knees buckle, muscles giving out under your own weight. You stumble back a few steps, blindly searching for a place to land. You’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep in the last two days, the constant barrage of emotion enough to wear you down on its own. Add in the near constant physical exertion, and the fact that you haven’t eaten or drank anything, and you’re practically dead on your feet.

Lo’ak rushes forward, gentle hands guiding you to a fallen tree at the edge of the clearing. A sigh of relief falls from your lips when you finally sit, tight muscles unwinding slightly. You slump into the rough bark, feeling like you could fall asleep at any moment.

Lo’ak’s hands glide down your arms, fingers gripping yours as he kneels before you on the ground. He pulls your joined hands to his chest, the rapid thrum of his heart permeating your skin

“No. No, don’t say that.” His head shakes rapidly as he blinks up at you, eyes pleading. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t even know why I said it. It was so dumb—”

“Lo’ak…” Your eyes pinch tightly, the sight of him on his knees, practically begging too much to bare. It splinters your heart, a painful mix of emotions churning in your stomach.

“Please, come back with me.” Your eyes flutter at the feeling of a light caress along the side of your face, at the sound of his quivering plea.

Your hooded gaze meets molten yellow, his face his now level with yours, glistening eyes boring into yours with utter regret. Countless apologies swell behind the usual bright color that’s now much darker, dulled by the rough of stroke of sorrow.

Without allowing time for doubt to cloud his mind, he leans forward, claiming your lips with his. Your breath hitches, and for a moment you consider denying him, but your battered heart just can’t take it. You respond eagerly, a broken whimper swallowed by his quiet groan of relief.

Your mouth slants over his, hands moving to cup both sides of his face. Moisture slips between you, tears from both of your eyes coating abused skin. His lips tremble against yours as he raises onto his knees, tongue prodding your mouth pleadingly.

Despite the hurt and frustration twisting your tender insides, you can’t help the way your body responds to his. Your lips chase his feverishly, pouring every pent up emotion into the kiss. Your heart constricts and shudders in your chest, ragged breath mingling with his.

A tiny flicker of hope ignites within him, only to quickly be snuffed out when you roughly pull away with a gasp, eyes heavy with resignation.

“Don’t.” Your head shakes, hands that just sought to bring him closer now pushing him away. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Baby girl, what—” His expression pinches with confusion, the sudden shift tugging on his already shredded heart.

He aches to brush away the tears that now fall freely down your cheeks, but you keep him at arms length, curling into yourself right in front of him.

“It’s not just what you said. It’s your mom—the clan, they’ll never see me as anything but a demon.” Your voice shakes with barley contained emotion.

Though his reaction was unnecessarily harsh, you can understand it to a degree. It did look suspicious, the fact that you’d kept things hidden from them. You’re an outsider, demon blood coursing through your veins, of course they’d jump on the first opportunity to believe the worst.

“We never would’ve worked.” The last declaration falls to a broken whisper, the words like stones on your tongue.

The finality of it all washes over him, his spine stiffening with unease. His heart thrums in his ears, eyes widening in horror.

“No. No, I won’t let you do this.” His head shakes hastily, hands desperately clasping yours again. Tears trail down his cheeks, just as they do yours.

“You’re wrong. We work, sevin (pretty). We work because I—I love you.” His lungs stutter with emotion, watery hiccups interrupting his confession.

The words feel foreign on his tongue, though he’s heard his parents exchange them countless times. Your eyes widen, breath hitching. His use of the human phrase only serves to break you further, forcing a sob to rise from deep within your chest.

“I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you, if you just give me another chance.” He pours what’s left of his heart out, bearing it to you, scars and all.

“Lo’ak…” His name is a broken whimper, but you aren’t even sure what you’re asking for. It’s all too much, so many intense feelings overwhelming your very being.

“I don’t care about any of it. I want you. All of you. It doesn’t matter what they think.” One of his hands releases you, disappearing quickly over his shoulder.

Your eyes pop impossibly wider, watching in awe as he brings his queue forward, presenting it to you. He looks up at you through thick lashes, eyes rounded, looking every bit the lost puppy he feels. He’s willing to do anything, give you anything, if it means you won’t leave him.

“Right.” You can’t help but scoff in disbelief, eyes rolling before finding solace in the ground.

There’s no way he’s thinking clearly if he’s offering that. But he’s determined, free hand smoothing along your jaw, cupping the side of your face tenderly. He pulls your face back to his, eyes searing straight through you.

“I’m serious.” His hand leaves your face to grip your wrist, guiding your fingers to wrap around his queue.

You oblige, though reluctantly. He shudders at the feeling, the light pressure of you holding the most sensitive, most intimate part of him, bringing a warmth to his belly. Your chest heaves, eyes searching his for any lingering doubt.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You drop the thick braid, almost as if it’s burned your skin, and it falls heavily between you.

You rise to your full height swiftly, suddenly desperate to put some distance between you. Your mind races with utter disbelief that he’s willing to do something so final, so life changing despite the consequences. He’d be banished the second the clan finds out, you’re sure of it.

No matter how much you want it, despite the way you ache to shout I love you too, you just can’t let him do it. You can’t allow him to ruin his life for you.

A harsh sob wracks his body as you leave him alone, stranded on an island of despair, carved out by his own mistakes. He slumps forward, hot tears coating his skin. His chest throbs, lungs quaking with the need for oxygen.

He hears shuffling behind him and lurches to his feet, one last shot of adrenaline propelling him forward.

“Wait!” He yells desperately, running toward you as you quickly mount your Ikran. His chest heaves as he hastily smears away thick moisture. “It’s not safe. You don’t have to talk to me. You don’t even have to—to see me. Just come back. Please.”

You avoid his eyes, unable to handle the rough heartbreak shining so clearly. You force down a thick swallow, silently asking Eywa for the strength to make it somewhere, anywhere but here.

“Goodbye, Lo’ak.” You rasp over your shoulder, urging your Ikran upward, leaving him utterly broken beneath you.

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how could he not stare? the yellow war paint she had on her cheeks and chest matched with his and he wondered how someone could look so beautiful while being in battle, his brads had gotten messy, he was covered in dirt and and so was she but she still managed to look mesmerizing to him.

neteyam was aware of her dedication, not only was she good at everything she put her mind to but she always tried her best at everything. he noticed that when one of her war tactics worked and she was praised by him and his dad, she turned her face to hide a blush and gave them both a short nod as a thank you, keeping her face straightened.

he assumed his father had already told y/n about the tutoring and once he saw her already at the forest, holding onto two kids’s hands and surrounded by a few small boys chasing each other around. when her eyes met neteyam’s frame she let out a relieved breath “they were so excited they showed up early” she explained

if he hadn’t heard her voice during the meetings months before, he was sure he’d fall to his knees right at that moment. her voice was so soft yet confident enough to make the kids look up at her in admiration “i didn’t think of that, sorry” he apologized, clearing his throat before walking up to the group and settling next to y/n, feeling one of the kids holding onto her hands give his thigh a small push before reaching up to hold his hand as well.

“did jake tell you what we’re supposed to do?” she whispered to him, leaning closer so only he could hear, neteyam shook his head and turned to look at the ten kids now sitting in front of them with their legs crossed “should we just play games today? and plan something for tomorrow?” she asked, her demeanor felt oddly familiar to when she proposed her ideas to his father, and he couldn’t help but nod at her

"okay! gather up in two groups, we'll play games today" y/n immediately turned to the kids who hurried to go five to the side of each of them. as the girl explained the games to the kids, neteyam couldn't tear his eyes away, he watched her like the rest of the kids did, admiring the way she talked and moved. he suddenly forgot why he had been so intimidated by her, she was a strong woman but he'd noticed she was also the sweetest person he'd ever been around.

he got the hang of the games quickly, he used to play some with his siblings when he was little, so when he felt one of the kids tug at his hand to join the circle they'd created and handed him a cloth-made ball he could only grin at the memory. y/n stood next to him with a smile on her face as the kids egged him on to pass the ball quick before the small girl in the middle of the circle would stop counting to fifty. he passed the ball and it went around to y/n, who held onto it the last few seconds until the little girl clapped her hands signalling she'd finished counting

"y/n's turn!" she quirped, pointing at her before running to take her place next to neteyam.

as the sky turned a light shade of pink and purple, the kids walked back to their tents and y/n tugged at neteyam's cummerbund "we should talk about tomorrow's tutoring" he swallowed back a cough and nodded, holding back from looking down at her hand still on the leather cloth on his chest.

he felt warm once she led him to her tent, she lit a small torch and neteyam felt like his heart was going to explode, the light flickering from the fire made her dark blue skin seem a different shade and her yellow-green eyes seemed brighter. "it's cozy" he complimented, looking around before sitting down in front of her. her cheeks changed color and the torch enhanced the shading on her face, neteyam smiled at the reaction

"uhm.. thanks, i've had a lot of free time after the war so.. i thought i'd decorate" she rambled, closing her mouth when she noticed and looked down embarrassed. he was happy he wasn't the only nervous one, it seemed she was even more nervous than he was "jake mentioned fishing, but they need to learn how to work with a bow first” she changed the subject and neteyam stared, nodding along "we'll start there then"

they spent the next hour or so planning what they were going to do the next day, and neteyam noticed her tracing patterns on her forearm as he talked, just like she did months ago when jake would explain the plans he'd think of. he guessed it was because she was too focus, or rather nervous. not thinking about it, he reached and carefully held her wrist, moving it away from her arm "we can continue tomorrow morning, if you'd rather" he offered, thinking she was anxious

y/n glanced at his hand holding her wrist in a soft grip and she shook her head "i do that to focus, though i think we have enough planned for tomorrow" he nodded and letting go he stood and wished her a good night before making his way back to his home. his thoughts were clouded by the look on her face when he complimented her decorating, the blush on her cheeks being the same from when he praised her in the battlefield with a smile and a simple 'good job'. it felt nice to think that he could have that effect on her, and it felt odd to have found out that y/n was shyer than he'd expected.

as the days went by, neteyam had found a new hobby; making y/n get shy. he had noticed that when he walked passed her and 'accidentally' grazed her waist, or squeezed her shoulder while smiling at her, she would touch her heated face when she thought he wasn't looking, and sometimes she returned the small touches by grazing his arm or fixing his braids. neteyam had grown a liking to flirting with her, not with his words (of course) the kids would catch on and snitch to the people in the clan but he made sure the smallest comments, compliments and touches were enough for her to get flustered around him.

he found it amusing how she looked so open and confident in the field but was shy and kind of quiet in her daily life. neteyam could definitely understand why people called her the clan’s sweetest, seeing her interact with the kids and somehow managing to spot her everywhere he went made his urge to seek for her grow more and more as days went by. 

“don’t we need to plan tomorrow’s class?” neteyam asked once the kids scurried away and y/n made a move to leave as well “we did that yesterday, remember?” of course he knew, he paid attention to her every word every time she spoke and he hated the fact that they got the next tutoring planned in advance because that meant he no longer had an excuse to spend time with her outside of their work.

“well- do you want me to walk you back?” he asked, suddenly feeling his throat close up by his own question, y/n looked up at him and gave him a small smile “i’d love that, yes” he felt he was done for when he noticed her tail swinging side to side as they walked together, she was looking down in embarrassment as her own body gave her feelings away. he tried to hold back a grin, he thought it was sweet. once her tail had stopped moving and started swaying along with her hips as they walked, he missed the blush on her cheeks so he reached with his smallest finger and lightly grazed it with the back of her hand “sorry” he chocked up, pretending to be apologetic at the contact “it’s okay” she stuttered a bit in nervousness and she felt him move closer so their arms brushed while walking.

he waited for her to seem to get used by his closeness and he finally reached to link their fingers together, looking forward so she didn’t see that his heart was about to explode. he could finally feel her tail wrap around his waist and she sent a soft smile his way as her cheeks got warmer and warmer. when he pretended to look away, she clenched her cheek in her hand in an attempt to calm herself down but it seemed that with neteyam so close it was impossible, they were holding hands and stood so close that their hips bumped into one another in every step they took “goodnight, y/n” his words shook her out of her thoughts and she finally noticed that he’d walked her back to her tent, that was right in front of her “thank you for walking me, neteyam” 

he’d never loved his name as he did when he heard it leave her lips, he wanted to kiss her and make her say his name so he could keep it. to keep his name away from everybody else so only she could voice it. 

“anytime, i could walk you to the forest tomorrow morning. if you want to- of course” his words almost got caught up in his throat when he noticed one of the small kids in their tutorings hiding behind the girl’s tent, spying “hey!” he playfully called as he moved forward to pick up the child “isn’t it a little late for you to be here?” y/n had never felt so attracted to anyone like she did at that moment, she observed how he held onto the kid’s fingers and kept her sat against his hips. would he hold their kids like that?

she physically shook her head as she tried to remove that thought out of her head and neteyam turned to her with a smile “what’s going on up here, eh?” he poked her forehead and the little girl in his arms started toying with his bead necklace “nothing, i’m just very tired. i should get to sleep” he nodded and slowly let the child down onto the floor before moving to give y/n a kiss on the forehead “i hope you get a good sleep” 

“if you come by tomorrow morning we can walk together” she responded to his earlier question and he grinned widely as she turned back to her tent, giving him a small wave before closing it. neteyam walked the small girl back to her parents who were worried sick for their missing child, and he made his way to his own bed waiting patiently for the sun to rise again. 

as promised, they walked together and neteyam made sure to keep their hands clasped together on the way. he loved that she’d gotten used to it so quickly, grabbing his hand again when he let it go to push some leaves out of the way “don’t you want a break sometimes?” she suddenly asked, the boy turned to her to give her a puzzled look “i love tutoring, i don’t think i could get tired of it, honestly” 

“i meant- from everything, tutoring and then training, i feel like you never really get a break” he felt his chest get heavy at the mention of his stress “you just look overwhelmed sometimes. if you need me to take over the classes anytime you feel like you need a day off, i’d be glad to” he smiled, moving the hand that was still holding his up to his lips and giving it two, short pecks “you’re too nice to me” looking at her hand like it had grown a head, she blushed and softly pulled her hand away from his as the kids arrived.

neteyam talked to his father, asking for a free day every week so the kids didn’t feel overwhelmed (so he didn’t feel overwhelmed) and he happily agreed, so neteyam finally had a day to himself. though, he didn’t want to spend it alone, after an hour or two of debating on whether or not he should go ask y/n for a walk, he ended up getting up and walking up to the girl that was speaking to his father with a bow crossing over her chest.

as he got closer, the girl hurried to finish the conversation with jake just so she could have a chance to talk to him, the man caught on and sneakily moved back so his son could get to talk to y/n.

“hey” he said sweetly as he took one last step closer to her “neteyam” she greeted, bowing her head down in salute, he smiled at the action and when she looked back up with her cheeks colored dark blue he felt like his face would explode from his grin “can i speak to you?, alone” neteyam asked, she nodded and he reached down to link their hands together as he led her away to his family’s tent. 

he apologized for the mess as they walked in and he moved some of the rugs to the side so they could sit on the floor. y/n looked around as he hurried to get her something to eat, grabbing some fruits his sisters had picked up the day before. she could tell neteyam’s side of the tent was the most organized one, he had a blanket moved as if he’d just gotten up from sleeping but the rest was all in order compared to the few rugs from his younger siblings he’d moved minutes before. 

“i wanted to ask you a question” he said when he sat down in front of her, once again reaching for her hands. he ran his fingers over her knuckles and he awaited for a reaction from her “you can ask me anything, neteyam” she said, a bit choked up from the contact and the patterns he was tracing on her hands.

he bummed as he thought of how to word what he had been feeling for the past months, she was staring at him patiently as if she could read his mind, and he gave her a small smile before speaking “would you be my mate?” y/n broke into a grin and her hold on his hands tightened as she slowly nodded her head. 

On the other hand, neteyam thought you hated him. Yes… you hated him with all your soul and he knew it. Every time he tried to reach out to give you a hug. You would open your eyes wide and pull away. Or when they were playing with each other. It was truth or dare… and he chose dare. Spider dared him to give you a kiss. Neteyam got close to your face, he was excited… he saw your face turn red and you pushed him away. Getting up from your place and running out to your room. Everyone was silent, looking at each other. Neteyam was heartbroken, the boy was in love with you and you hated him.

But what bothered him the most was your closeness with loak. Why loak? i mean…the boy was not a good match for you. And yet you were more affectionate with him, it wasn't like you were on top of him all day. But if you let loak put his arm on your shoulder, or let him play with your hair a little bit. Or sit next to you. It was killing him, because he wanted to have that contact with you.

Neteyam had taken the day off, and decided to go to the small station that the humans had set up on one of the islets of the Metkayina clan, after the battles. Norm and several scientists were welcomed to the islands to help. And you were part of that group. "Hey…nete" greets norm as he sees the boy enter. "Hi norm…how are you?" neteyam greets politely. As he tried to look for you somewhere in the small lab. "Are you looking for Y/N?" says norm, teasing the boy a little. Neteyam laughs nervously. At that very moment you emerge from one of the storage rooms. You shift your gaze past neteyam.

"Y/n…h-hello!!!" says neteyam excitedly following a few steps behind you. His tail wagged back and forth, until you felt him tap you on the arm. "I'm so sorry" neteyam moved away a little bit. "Don't worry nete" you looked up to look at neteyam, you saw how excited he was. Maybe he was happy about something else. Norm walked over to you. "Y/N honey…please I need you to help me get some samples. I need you to bring me some leaves of this plant" Norm showed you a picture. "This plant grows in the forested area of this island" you take the tablet to look further into what you were going to look for. "Why doesn't Neteyam come with you?" says Norm, looking at Neteyam to give him a wink. Neteyam laughs a little but shifts his gaze so you don't spot them.

"Ahhh I don't know if…maybe" you say as you muddle over your words. "It's no problem…I'm free" neteyam almost screams with excitement. Once again his tail taps you on the arm, you nudge it a little. "Ready…well go then, I need them before nightfall" says norm, refocusing on his work. "Let's go neteyam" you say, taking the sample tube and handing it to neteyam to put in her waist bag. You stand a little quietly as you watch neteyam's hands slide down to his waist. He looks up to see how you are looking at him. "All good" the boy teases. "Yeah yeah come on" you push him a little. You could push him all day, if this was going to be the only form of contact with you, He was going to let you manhandle him all you want.

They walked a bit through the wooded area, you were in the front and neteyam was in the back enjoying the view. "hey why aren't you wearing the outfit I gave you?" asks neteyam following in your footsteps. "I've kept it…I haven't had a chance to wear it" you say. You hear neteyam chuckle a little, but you decide to ignore him. Sometime later you see the plant near a small waterfall, you walk over and sit down on one of the rocks. Neteyam sits down next to you, pulling out the sample tube. " wow…this plant is beautiful" you say, as you pluck several leaf samples.

"You say you can't use my gift…but look" neteyam touches the bracelet on your arm. "loak gave this to you last week and you are wearing it" spits neteyam waiting for you to react. " nete… this is a accessory, you gave me a complete navi outfit" you say trying to take the sample tube from his hands. Neteyam moves his hands away. "So? I made it myself for you…but it's okay. Everything I do sucks for you," Neteyam says. You remain silent, he just said that you think he disgusts you. "What the hell are you saying?" you say. Neteyam relaxes a little, you can see how frustrated he was.

"Why are you avoiding me…why don't you want me to be by your side? Even now…" neteyam takes the tube and then you watch as he takes your hand and places the object there in the palm of your hand. You didn't want to say anything, you didn't dare. You didn't have the courage to tell him that the only reason you didn't approach him was because you were a nervous wreck around him. You quickly took the samples, and started on your way to the lab. On the way back to the station, neither of you dared to speak. You arrived at the lab, entered and noticed how it was empty.

"He asks me for these samples and then disappears" you complain, as you place the tube of samples on norm's desk. You turn to see neteyam, he was sitting on a improvised couch that norm had created for the size of the avatars. "Neteyam… you don't disgust me" you say, causing the boy to look up. "Really?" the boy scoffs a little. You walk over to neteyam and sit down next to him. "Didn't you like my gift?" asks Neteyam. The boy looks at you, see how you avoid looking at him. "You see…you don't even want to look at me and " you get up from the couch, getting on your knees so you can reach neteyam's face in your hands. You pull him close and kiss him. Neteyam's eyes open wide. You pull away and sit quietly beside him.

Since the night you crossed the invisible line between friends and more, Lo’ak hasn’t been able to keep his hands off of you. That first press of your lips against his destroyed whatever barrier of restraint he’d built to contain his feelings. The floodgates burst open, giving way to the full force of his adoration.

It’s all-consuming. His soft touches, his feverish lips on yours, it’s overwhelming in the best way possible.

He’s eager to explore your body, to find as many ways to give you pleasure as possible. For the most part, you’ve been able to keep him focused during the day. But at night…

“Is that good, baby girl?” His voice is muffled, head wedged between your trembling thighs.

You let out a ragged breath, back bowing from the earth as his tongue swipes another tentative lick along your core. His hand snakes upward, shifting against the warm grass until his fingers entwine with yours. He pulls away, glistening lips pulling into a teasing grin, hooded eyes boring into yours heatedly.

“Need your words, narlor (beautiful).”

You whimper beneath him, knowing you’re in for a long night at the mischievous glint behind bright yellow.

“I am learning, see? I’m counting your freckles. One, two, three…” Lo’ak punctuates each number with a soft kiss along your throat.

You can’t help but burst into another fit of soft laughter, arms unwinding from around his head. Your fingers smooth along his cheeks before curling around the sides of his neck to gently guide him backward.

Your gaze briefly grazes the necklace tied loosely around his throat, hanging delicately near his collarbone. It’s crude and a bit lopsided, one of the first pieces you ever made. You presented it to him tentatively, somewhat proud but knowing even Tuk could make something better. He insisted on having it, and hasn’t taken it off in weeks.

Something hot swirls within his eyes as they search for yours. Since that night, when you first sealed your lips to his, he hasn’t once tried to hide the extent of his feelings for you. He wouldn’t be able to, even if he tried. The intensity of it sears a hole straight through his chest, making his heart squeeze in a way it never has before.

He leans forward slowly, trying to capture your lips with his, but you dodge at the last second. He groans against your cheek, peppering a gentle kiss there before leaning back, lips pulled into a pouty frown.

“We have some time.” A large hand smoothes up your back, a shiver rolling up your spine along with it. “Plus, there are so many things I want to try…”

He’s already resumed his mission, kissing every surface of your jaw and neck. You sigh against him, relaxing into his chest when your lower belly tightens. His hand doesn’t stop moving until long fingers clasp the back of your neck, guiding your mouth back to his.

“Can I—can I try something?” The question is tentative, nervous eyes glittering above yours.

Sharp teeth find your lower lip before you nod, watching as he sits on the balls of his feet. Soft grass cushions your back, the sound of tricking water lulling you into calmness. Your gaze shifts toward the sky, flitting between glowing stars, until it lurches back to Lo’ak at the feeling of something tugging on your loincloth.

“Trust me?” He blinks down at you, big eyes swimming with uncertainty.

His mouth is pursed into a thin line, brow pinched as if afraid you’ll say no. As if afraid you’ll deny him the opportunity to explore this growing connection between you.

“Always.” You nod again, a small smile splitting your mouth at the victorious grin above you.

Slowly, carefully, he unties the woven string around your hips. A ragged breath leaves trembling lips as he peels it away, revealing your softness to him for the first time. Anxiety tightens your chest, suddenly very aware that no one has seen you like this before. Your legs close, one knee bending to hide the most intimate part of yourself.

Lo’ak frowns, hands smoothing up your calves, past your knees, until long fingers wind around your thighs, gently guiding them apart. You let him, still unsure but trusting him fully.

Hooded eyes find your glistening core, lips parting to release a rough breath.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” He asks suddenly, the brazen question making your face bloom with warmth.

You’re momentarily stunned, until his heated gaze flicks up to meet yours, urging an answer from your lips.

“I…no—not in this body, no.” Your heart thrums wildly, stomach twisting with anticipation.

Something akin to pride swells within his chest. He absolutely beams, a huge grin brightening his features. His hands trail along your thighs lightly, following faint stripes until he’s gripping your hips, thumbs rubbing a gentle pattern along the dip just before where he wants to be most.

“Can my fingers be the first? Please, baby girl?”

And how could any sane woman say no to that?

You manage to pull back, resting your forehead against his as you both fight to soothe shallow breaths.

“It’s nearly lunchtime and we haven’t done anything.” The corners of your lips twitch despite the gentle scolding.

You love being like this with him, hearts beating together, limbs tangled. Just simply touching him, feeling his skin on yours, brings a deep sense of calm. It soothes your soul, makes you feel right and complete.

But the clan’s dismissal still weighs heavily on your heart. Things have improved slightly since the celebration of life several weeks ago. There’s been a definite shift in your perception with the others, but it still doesn’t feel like enough.

Neytiri has carried on as normal, seemingly unaware that you heard her and Lo'ak's conversation. Her words ring in your head almost daily, the harsh sting of rejection igniting a flame of determination deep within you. Your priorities have fully shifted to the clan, to becoming one of The People. To proving her wrong.

You haven't been to the lab in weeks. At night, on the rare occasion that you aren’t with Lo’ak, you try to talk with Meg as much as possible. Even that has tapered off significantly, but honestly, it hasn't plagued you much.

You’ve found a nice rhythm in the Tsahik tent, working alongside Kiri and Mo’at. Injured clan members plop down at your station without a second thought, though you’ve noticed the way their eyes glance toward the other women first to see if they’re available.

You’ve begun training with groups of Na’vi, the children having taken to you the most. You’re sure a certain youngest Sully has something to do with their sudden fawning over you. It brings a smile to your face, the way Tuk still sticks to your side at every available opportunity.

Lo’ak remains by your side through every session, a silent encouragement at your back. Warmth blooms in your chest at being included with the rest of the clan, even if it’s only the little ones.

There was one day, in the middle of a riding lesson, when Jake called for Lo’ak. He didn’t want to leave you, face pinching with uncertainty as he asked over and over if you’d be okay for a few minutes on your own. But the incessant shout of his name only grew more pointed with each passing moment, so he had to go, promising to return as quickly as possible.

You were fine at first, leisurely guiding your pa’li (direhorse) forward with internal commands. But then a young Na’vi lost control of their animal. The beast surged forward, knocking into yours. It quickly raised onto its hind legs, wrenching you from its back. You hit the ground with a painful thud, face smooshing into the dirt with a wince.

As shaky arms struggled to peel your torso from the ground, a set of long fingers jutted toward you. Your eyes rose in question, brows instantly lifting as pure shock rolled down your spine. Neteyam had left his position teaching a few young boys how to form tsaheylu (the bond), and now he was offering a helping hand.

You took it tentatively, still unsure even as he hoisted you from the dirt with a strong tug. No more than a moment later he was gone, lingering gaze following you from his periphery. You couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at your lips as you went back to your pa’li.

“Fine.” Lo’ak’s lips push into a playful pout before claiming yours in one final searing kiss. He pulls back, a tiny smirk forming at your breathless, dazed expression. “There’s something I’ve been dying to show you anyway.”

Long fingers tap the outsides of your thighs, signaling for you to stand up. You rise to your feet slowly, giving him a questioning look. Over the last three months, you’ve learned that whatever comes after that glittering mischief in his eyes is usually something you shouldn’t be doing.

He pops to his feet excitedly, raising a hand to cup the side of his mouth. His face raises to the sky, eyes closing as he calls out loudly. The throaty sound echoes through the trees before rising toward the clouds.

His eyes open to search the air above, as if looking for something. He calls out again, then looks back to you, a huge grin splitting his lips.

“Here, get behind me.” He grips one of your elbows gently and guides you toward his back.

Confusion pinches your features, but you don't protest as he moves you a few steps to the side. You’re about to ask what the hell he’s doing, when a nearly deafening squawk comes from above.

You can’t help but duck, fingers latching onto his out of pure fear. He simply laughs, head twisting to give you a dazzling grin over his shoulder.

A moment later, his Ikran descends from the sky, only feet away. A gasp rolls up your throat, heart rate instantly doubling at the sight. Wind blows the hair from your shoulders as large wings flap to guide a smooth landing. Wide eyes dance across its skin, the brilliant blues and purples unlike anything you've ever seen before.

The huge creature huffs out a rough breath, front claws shifting in the dirt. It’s head shakes a few times, mouth opening and closing in a familiar greeting.

Lo’ak moves forward, dragging you along with the hand still clasped in yours. You’ve gone completely rigid behind him, every muscle in your body tight with apprehension.

“Tam, tam (there, there).” His voice is quiet, soothing as he slowly approaches the animal.

His free hand smooths down the Ikran’s neck, and it chitters happily. Suddenly, one of its large eyes flicks toward you, a low growl rumbling within its chest. You lurch back, though Lo'ak's frame still blocks yours protectively.

“Don’t look in his eye.” He says quickly, and you instantly avert your gaze. He tugs you forward gently, ever determined to move closer to the animal. “It's okay, come on.”

When your heels dig into the dirt, he moves to clasp both of his hands around one of yours. When you realize he's guiding it toward his Ikran, your stomach twists with panic. You pull against him, but his grip is firm.

“Wait, Lo'ak! Don't—”

Your palm touches rough skin. The Ikran shifts under the gentle pressure, and you step away, as far as Lo'ak will allow. He crowds your back, toned chest pressed firmly between your shoulders.

“It's okay.” He repeats, soothing words whispered at your ear.

You let out a ragged breath, feeling like your heart may give out at any moment. You've seen plenty of Ikran in the last three months, but never this close. They're fascinating, beautiful creatures, and were the focus of many late nights when you still lived and worked in the labs.

But now, in this new life, they've become a reminder of how far you are from being one of The People. It's a rite each member of the clan must go through, claiming their own beast before becoming an adult. A rite you will never be allowed.

The Ikran calms beneath your touch, Lo'ak's large hand dwarfing yours as he guides it along the animals side.

“See? Not so bad.” The smile on his face is evident in his playful tone, the teasing words accented with a quick kiss against your neck.

In an instant he's connected their queues, before deftly jumping on the beasts back. You can't help but gasp, stepping back as they settle into the bond. Lo'ak grins down at you, eyes glittering with warmth and that ever present mischief.

He extends a hand toward you, making your blood run cold.

“Come on, Star Girl.” Glowing yellow tells you it'll be alright, that he won't let anything happen to you. You have no choice but to believe him, despite the fear twisting your stomach.

You're hesitant, unsure as trembling fingers slide into his palm. His chest blooms with pride, with joy when you allow him to become the source of another first. It ignites something within him, something unexplainable, a possessiveness so intense it takes his breath away.

He pulls you up gently, strong arms settling you into the space he's left at his front. Your back leans into his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart as it races in time with yours. Your hips shift at the unexpected rise and fall of warm breath between your legs.

Lo'ak's thighs cage yours, pressing you firmly to the animal. Your hands explore the reins on its back, fingers lightly gliding over the woven structure.

“Hang on, baby.” He murmurs beside your ear, the low cadence of his voice only increasing your heart rate.

There's barely a split second to catch your breath before you're airborne. You can't help the squeal that escapes you, hands releasing the reins to cover your face. Fear surges up your spine as your stomach bottoms out, powerful wind slashing at your skin.

“Hold on, Y/N.” The command is stern as long fingers circle both of your wrists, jerking them back to the stability of the reins.

Your eyes pinch closed, grip tightening to the point of pain. Suddenly, the Ikran levels out, no longer flying straight up toward the clouds but rather drifting along the wind leisurely. A ragged breath of relief shudders from your lips, chest heaving with lingering anxiety.

Long lashes flutter open, breath hitching as your head swivels from side to side, taking in the beauty of Pandora from above. It's unlike anything you've ever seen before. An astonished grin splits your face, racing heart finally calming slightly.

Gentle wind fans your face, cooling the panicked heat that had crawled up your chest and neck. The treetops practically sparkle from up here, leaves glinting in the sun. A group of syaksyuk (prolemuris) swing between exposed branches, chattering and whooping.

Your head jerks upward at the call of another Ikran. It zips past you in a blur, your hands instinctively tightening at the rush of warm air left in it's wake. At that moment you realize Lo'ak is commanding his own animal to fly extremely slow, a gesture that has heat blooming in your chest.

You lean back against him, head tilting so your eyes can catch his over your shoulder.

“I'm okay.” You assure, though your voice quivers with the remnants of your earlier panic. “You can go faster.”

His brow furrows with slight worry. He doesn't want to push you, take it too far and scare you off from the whole flying experience all together. He's been itching to get you above the clouds, to watch the light of wonder flicker in your eyes as you witness his home from another angle.

So far, you haven't disappointed, the childlike amazement painted all over your face sending a flutter straight to his lower belly.

“You sure?” His gaze searches yours, looking or any lingering uncertainty. When he finds none, his lips pull into a slow, proud grin. “That's my girl.”

You twist back around to face forward, skin prickling with heat at the endearment. Every touch, every kiss has expanded the hope in your chest, the need to be his. You've never spoken about it, what this arrangement between you might mean.

There hasn't been a reason. The two of you have fallen into an easy rhythm of stolen moments in the privacy of nightfall. During the day, in front of the clan, you're strictly professional. It worries you sometimes, the way his eyes expertly turn cold, not a hint of the warmth you've gotten used to swimming in golden yellow.

But then, night comes, and you feel secure again.

Your smile widens when Lo'ak pulls up, his Ikran soaring higher in the sky. You blink against the light prickle of moisture as you pass through a group of clouds. The animal gains speed quickly, surging forward with surprising power.

Excitement swells in your chest, replacing the fear that gripped you at the beginning of the flight. One of your hands releases the reins, floating up over your head as you let out a loud yell. Lo'ak laughs behind you, chest rumbling against your back, and mirrors the movement, his call echoing yours.

Something large passes you from below, tailwind knocking Lo'ak's Ikran off balance for a split second. He easily levels out, raising from his seated position to peer down over its large head. At the same moment, another Ikran shoots upward, narrowly missing you by mere feet.

“Mawey (calm)!” Lo'ak shouts to his beast as it squawks loudly, rearing back out of surprise.

You tumble backward, spine crashing into Lo'ak's chest as your hand rips from the reins. One of his hands winds around your waist, holding you against him securely. Your eyes follow the unknown Ikran, heart in your throat, as it tucks it's wings, rolling through the clouds almost playfully.

It rights itself smoothly before leaning toward you again. Lo'ak's Ikran roars loudly, its chest rumbling between your thighs. The other Ikran hisses and snaps its jaws, flying below you once again.

“Tiftang si (stop it)!” Lo'ak growls, frustration tightening his stomach.

He's seen the Ikran do this many times before. The harmless playing isn't typically a problem when riders aren't involved. But of course the unknown Ikran has to show an interest in his while he's taking you on your first flight. Irritation claws at his chest, worry accenting the scowl marring his features.

Finally, at the sound of his shouting, the Ikran retreats, disappearing into thick clouds. Your wide, inquisitive eyes trail it the whole way, until fluffy white envelopes it’s bright colors fully. Lo’ak relaxes behind you, though his arm remains firmly wound around your stomach.

Your hands return to the reins, fingers tightly clasped to stabilize yourself throughout the rest of the flight.

A giggle rumbles your chest, cheeks blooming with heat.

Lo’ak tugs at your tail gently, and you turn, batting roaming hands away. His chin dips, lips pulling into a heart-stopping grin. Large yellow eyes twinkle with mischief as he lunges for you again.

You squeal playfully, ducking a second too late. His strong arms envelope you, and a moment later your feet leave the ground. Your head tilts back with another deep laugh as he spins you around before planting you back down at his side.

“Y/N!” The breathless shout of your name has both of you tensing, all contact gone in an instant.

Within seconds, Lo’ak’s spine is expertly straightened, hands clasped behind his back to keep them away from you.

Your heart sinks as the light fades from his eyes. Just like that, the carefree version of him it seems only you’re allowed to see is gone, replaced with a practiced mask of indifference.

A familiar figure bounds through the brush, chest heaving. Her wide eyes flick between you and Lo’ak as she staggers to a halt. Her gaze latches onto yours, a silent plea beneath shimmering yellow.

“Kiri? What’s wrong?” You take a step forward, arm outstretched, the desire to soothe her panicked state rearing strongly.

“My father. He wants to see you…right away.” She struggles to catch her breath, brows pinching with concern.

Your stomach twists. Something about the frantic look on her face is deeply unsettling. It makes your head spin with possibilities.

“Is everything okay?” A frown of confusion pulls at Lo’ak’s mouth as his questioning gaze flickers between his sister and you.

There’s an unspoken conversation happening right in front of him, the silent exchange of pointed looks instantly piquing his interest. His spine prickles with unease, wondering if the two of you have gotten into some kind of trouble without him.

“Come.” Is all she says, fingers wrapping around your wrist to practically drag you the rest of the way to Home Tree.

The journey is quick. Kiri’s long legs maintain a rushed pace, almost too fast for you to keep up. If it weren’t for the tight grip pulling you along, you would’ve been face down in the dirt long before the two of you barrel through the entrance to the Sully’s family tent.

Lo’ak is only a step behind, the quiet flap of the woven door the only sound in the otherwise silent space. Your gaze instantly finds Jake’s tense form. He’s pacing, walking back and forth with both hands resting on narrow hips.

He turns at the new presence, steely glare searing right through you. Your throat constricts at the rush of emotions he isn’t even trying to hide.

Anger. Frustration. Disappointment.

“Y/N, sit.” He gestures to one of the mats in the center of the room, before a long finger moves to point toward each of his children. “You and you, out.”

The hard, uncompromising tone of his voice makes your legs tense, instinctively ready to obey the command. Kiri’s hand leaves you as she moves toward the door, only to be replaced with a larger, warmer hold. You spare a glance at Lo’ak, catching the way his eyes search his father’s over your shoulder. His brow is furrowed, pure confusion plastered all over his face.

“Dad, what’s going on?” The question is rough, concern and a tinge of fear coating the words.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Jake’s voice drops to that low, gravelly tone reserved for the most pertinent of orders.

Lo’ak’s fingers twitch against you before hesitantly releasing. Kiri disappears through the door, hands clasped over her mouth as if horrified by what’s about to happen. Lo’ak’s gaze flits between yours and his father’s, uncertainty and worry shining behind bright yellow.

Slowly, he backs up toward the door, eyes finding yours one last time before he lets it fall closed in front of him. Kiri is long gone already, finding the inevitable fallout too much to bear, but Lo’ak, so unaware and filled with concern, tucks himself low beside the entrance.

Jake clears his throat impatiently. Your gaze tears away from the door, breath hitching at the raw intensity lying in wait. Narrowed eyes cut to you, your stomach rolling under the weight of his pinched expression.

Without hesitation, you hurry toward the closest mat, plopping down quickly. The muscles of your back are already sore from tensing so hard, but you ignore the ache and try to sit up as straight as possible.

His arm moves forward, something small flinging from his hand haphazardly. It tumbles to the floor, rolling a few times until it stops right in front of your feet.

“Where did you get that?” His tone is low, rough accusation behind the words.

You heart stops for several beats, sputtering wildly in your chest as you stare down at the object. Your mouth gapes, lungs spasming from lack of air as all functions freeze on the spot. Panic grips you, eyes widening with horror as they graze the small necklace, as if answers would appear the longer you look at it.

He’s found your neck microphone. The one that should be safely tucked away near your hammock. The last several days flick through your mind in a haze, as you desperately try to remember if you left it out. You couldn’t have, you’ve been so careful…and that meant someone was snooping through your things.

Your gaze slowly lifts, anxiety tightening your chest. When it meets his, and steely anger bores right through you, a rush of nausea brews in your stomach.

You clear a bit of hoarseness from your throat, hesitating with a wince. “A friend.”

“And what have you been telling this friend?” He’s watching you like a predator watches it’s prey, glare locked so firmly you wouldn’t be surprised if he could read your mind.

“Nothing! Nothing, I—” Your eyes pinch closed tightly for a beat as you force a breath through quivering lungs, willing your racing heart to calm. “We just…talk.”

“Have you been back to that lab?” The question is nearly rhetorical, he’s certain of the answer, but still wants to hear it from your mouth.

“Yes.” Your voice is small, barely above a whisper, chin dipping to avoid his piercing eyes.

Though it’s been clear since the beginning that Jake is a formidable force, you’ve only ever been treated fairly—kindly—by the man. You’ve never been on this side of his wrath before. At this moment, you realize, you’ve allowed yourself to be lulled into a false sense of comfort, of assurance that he’d always be gentle with you.

You’ve seen it plenty of times from a distance, this rough side of him, when he’s scolding clan members or, more likely, his two sons. But to be here, on the receiving end? It feels downright terrifying.

Silence stretches on for too long, urging your reluctant gaze to lift. You watch as his jaw clenches, hands tightening into fists at his sides before he forces them apart. A beat passes before something else clunks to the floor at your feet.

“I found your little book, too. Keeping notes on my clan? My family? My son?” Your fingers begin trembling as he addresses you in Na’vi. “Yeah, that’s right. You’ve been lying this whole time, haven’t you?”

The words echo in your head, raw panic surging through you. Wide eyes blink rapidly, chest sputtering in an attempt to keep oxygen flowing. It feels like the ground has been ripped out from under you. You’re falling, the security of every thinly veiled perception you’ve built over the last three months crumbing in an instant.

“It’s just a journal.” Your throat tightens around the words, tongue barely able to push the quiet sounds out.

Jake releases a harsh breath, one hand moving up to roughly trail down his face. It tilts up to the ceiling, eyes rolling to the sky in frustration.

“You know, I try to be respectful to Mo’at with all this Eywa crap, but at this point, I’m having a hard time believing the Great Mother really chose you.”

The insult drills through your battered chest, hallowing out the space around your heart. You curl inward, the weight of his dismissal almost too much to bear.

When no one else wanted you around, he stuck up for you. He was the first, the strongest voice in your favor. Without that, you have nothing, the stark reality of your situation making bile rise in your throat.

“Why did they send you here?” He’s practically vibrating with anger now, too distraught to remember to speak in Na’vi.

The question has you lurching to attention, back straightening as your wide gaze meets his.

“They didn’t! I swear! It—it was the storm, and the consciousness transfer. I…I never asked for any of this!” You’re well aware that you sound crazy, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re frantic with the need to make him believe you, to hear you out before he does something drastic.

“I let you into my clan. My family.” He points an accusing finger at you, face scrunching with deep disappointment. “I trusted you.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” The promise rushes from your lips in a single breath, but he doesn’t seem phased, head shaking in refusal.

“Oh, we’re way past that. What, are they planning something?” The hard glare is back with a vengeance, a protectiveness so fierce you don’t doubt that he’d kill you on the spot if he felt you were a threat to his family.

“I—I don’t…” You’re hyperventilating at this point, every muscle in your body trembling with built up emotion. You know you aren’t making sense, but your mind is clouded with dread, thoughts moving too fast.

“Fuck. Don’t move a goddamn muscle. Got it?” Jake is suddenly moving toward the door, before you can even give a shaky nod of understanding.

Lo’ak is frozen.

The muscles between his shoulders are so tight he fears they may burst any second. His father has just stalked past him, too distracted by his own anger to see his youngest son shellshocked by the tent entrance.

Everything he knows—everything he thought he knew—about you shatters in an instant. His mind races, thoughts jumbling incoherently as he desperately tries to piece together his fathers words, your words, and their implication.

Nothing makes sense. The last three months he’s spent with you flash behind his eyes, moments he cherished only hours ago now producing a deep sense of confusion.

He staggers into the tent, breath shallow, eyes hallow as they search for you. He easily finds you, bent over on one of the woven cots, head in your hands. At the sound of quiet shuffling, you stiffen, eyes widening in surprise as they land on him.

You quickly shoot to your feet, chest heaving with emotion. He stares at you, brow furrowed, lips pursed in a firm line. His eyes glisten with turmoil, their usual bright yellow a shade darker.

“Lo’ak…” His name is a broken sound on your lips, fear and anxiety tightening your chest.

“You—” His breath hitches, trembling hand moving up to point an accusing finger in your direction. “You’ve been lying this whole time?”

Large ears flatten against your head, chin dipping with shame. The statement, mirroring his fathers words from a few moments ago, is breathless with disbelief. Your stomach twists with dread at the knowledge that he’s heard it all. There’s no way for you to talk your way out of this.

Your eyes pinch shut tightly for a brief moment, lungs quivering with the effort of containing a rising sob. This is worst case scenario, your most potent fears staring you right in the face.

Your eyes tentatively lift to meet his, vision blurred with hot moisture. “Everything between us, how I feel about you—”

During your time with Lo’ak, often while wrapped up in his arms, thoughts of your first conversation in Na’vi would dance through your mind. Never once did you imagine it going this way, plagued with the raw betrayal coating his words.

It hurts, the pain lashing at your heart so violently it sputters in your chest.

“This whole time…” The words are nothing more than a trembling whisper. His eyes leave you, flitting quickly around the tent, as if looking for solid ground to land on.

“Just, please, let me—” You take a step forward, hand reaching out, fingers barely grazing his arm before he jerks it away as if he’s been burned.

A sob wracks your chest, hot moisture spilling over long lashes. He takes serval steps back, eyes wide with confusion and alarm.

A hand moves to cradle his stomach, as if he’s feeling sick. “I…I don’t even know you.”

“I wanted to tell you! So many times, but I—” You take another step forward, the desire to be close to him burning you from the inside out.

“But you didn’t.” His voice drops, brow furrowing as his eyes glisten with welling emotion.

He blinks away hot tears, lips pursing into a firm line. As quickly as it emerged, Lo’ak’s sadness morphs to anger. He feels like a fool. He gave himself to you, bared parts of his soul never before seen by another living creature. Fragments of your conversation with his father echo in his mind, pieces of a puzzle he fears he may never solve.

Consciousness transfer…journal…lab…chosen by Eywa…

It swells in his chest, churns his stomach, the flame of something so dark, so vile igniting deep within him. His chin dips, brows falling, eyelids dropping in a way that’s downright menacing.

“What, you thought it'd be fun to mess around with the clan freak? Get some information for your little humans?” He doesn’t even sound like himself, tone so cold a shiver rolls down your spine.

Insecurity gnaws at him. Every whisper of you aren’t good enough that he’d so expertly cast aside at the way you cared for him crashes into his mind at once. He thought he could be more, with you by his side. He thought he was finally worthy of the love he’s been so desperately craving his entire life.

But it was all a lie. Every touch, every murmured word of praise…

If none of it was true, that means he was never worthy at all.

“No! God, Lo'ak, I would never—” You can’t help yourself, taking another step closer, a desperate hand reaching for him.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” He roars, and you instantly rear back, shocked.

He almost feels bad. A tiny twinge of remorse cracks through his shell of rage. Then he remembers that you’re a traitor, that nothing you’ve told him is reality. The gravity of the situation washes over him, a bucket of ice cold water to his system.

“I can’t believe you! No, what I actually can’t believe is that I ever trusted you.” A humorless laugh fills the growing space between you.

It splinters your heart, shards of desperation lodging into your stomach as you fight to stay upright.

“Lo’ak, you have to understand! Please…I—you know how the clan feels about me. You hear what they say. They say I have demon blood, that I’ll never be one of The People.”

Tears stream freely down your cheeks. Your chest heaves with the effort of keeping your breath somewhat steady. You feel lightheaded, lack of oxygen finally settling in.

You know, somewhere deep down, past all the bitter emotion swelling within him, that he can empathize with being an outsider. He’s been cast aside his entire life by the very clan he was born into. Surely, he could understand. He could try to see where you’re coming from.

“Yeah, well...maybe they’re right.” His voice is quiet, breathless. The words are like stones on his tongue, searing a hot line up his throat as he spits them.

It hits you directly in the chest, heart clenching so hard the pain ripples down your back. He glares at you with a stare so cold, so devoid of any light, any warmth. It’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Not even after the harshest of scoldings from his father.

The supportive, gentle Lo’ak is gone, marred by your treachery. Replaced with this shell, this hardened mask of anger and betrayal. It’s ugly, spiteful, intending to cause harm. Devastation claws at your insides, ripping what remains to shreds.

You allow yourself a single moment. One shaky inhale to search his eyes. You desperately look for any sign that you can fix this, that the past three months have meant something to him.

You’re met with nothing but malice, the fire of hatred kindling behind darkened yellow. It absolutely breaks you. It tears you apart, every hope for your future incinerated with one harsh glare.

You turn, unable to withstand it for even a second longer, and run.

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Jake Sully's eyes shot open, immediately rising his upper body from the mossy ground. He gasped as he felt a pain pierce through his body. His body was covered in cuts and wounds, blood dripping from his head. His memory was restoring as his brain was processing what he saw: you on the ground dying. He remembered your rolled-back eyes as blood dripped from your mouth and nose. Truly a traumatic sight. He frantically looked around the warzone, in search for you. You were in his arms what felt like mere seconds ago. What happened? Where were you? Dead Na'vi lay on the mossy ground, some were headless while others had their limbs broken, staring at the sky with lifeless eyes. He got up from the ground, ignoring the pain shooting through his spine as he frantically looked for you. He wanted to scream, cry your name. Yet he couldn't, it felt like his vocal cords were ripped out of his throat, no sound able to leave his lips. Running past the dead bodies and not seeing your face, he didn't know what to feel: sad because he couldn't find you or happy that you weren't dead. The world around him turned black, the sky pitch black as everyone around him disappeared. "Daddy?" He collapsed on his knees as he saw you in front of him, small little girl with a plushie in your hands. He tried to get up, but he couldn't move one bit, his legs paralyzed and he felt hopeless once again as his physical body didn't respond: just like his human body. From behind you, Jake could see someone emerge from the shadows. The black figure had a knife pressed to your throat, "daddy help!! Daddy!!" He tried his best to raise his legs, move his fingers, anything, but nothing worked. The tears rolled down his face as the knife dug into your skin, eventually slicing through your throat, through your skin. You fell to your knees, the plushie he brought you falling to the floor. "Daddy.." you mumbled as the blood left your throat, spurting out as you fell to the ground. Jake Sully looked at the scene in front of him in horror. He wanted to look away, but something was stopping him from doing so. As if someone was holding his head into place and keeping his eyes from shutting. If one could hear his scream, it was one out of a horror movie. He felt himself shaking frantically and then everything once again faded to black.

You felt your body being shaken and a faint voice calling out your name. You tried to focus on your surroundings and regaining your consciousness. Your arms were flat on the ground, which made your bare hands touch the ground. Dirt, dry to the touch. You could feel the wind blowing, you were outside. That's when you remembered. You were in a warzone, a battlefield. "Sissy please!!" You tried to move your fingertips as you heard a familiar voice. Neteyam. His arms were wrapped around you as he carried you bridal style. Your head twitched toward his warmth as you slowly opened his eyes. You felt dizzy, everything looked blurry to you. But you could see blue figure holding you, the blue figure that is Neteyam. He was all scratched up himself, but no worse than you. The main reason being that you saved him with your push, the scratches from his fall rather than from the explosion. He ran through the warzone, all the way to the back which the enemies didn't reach yet. "My people, take the supplies and fall back to high camp!!" His voice boomed as he ran to alert his people. "Seze!!" He proceeded to screech as he called for his Ikran. He named his Ikran after his mother's late Ikran. She told him his Ikran resembled it as if it was meant to happen. Like mother like son. Seze landed on the ground, its wings flapping through the air as it screeched for Neteyam. He quickly made tsaheylu, the bond, as he jumped on his Ikran with ease with you in his arms. Your body was all bloody with blood dripping down from one of your eyes, seeping into your mask. It made you slightly choke on your breath. "Neteyam..?" You saw red and blurry all at the same time. "Yes sissy it's me, don't worry you'll be okay. I got you." You saw his lips moving as he spoke, but you could barely make out what he said, your ears ringing violently making your headache. When Neteyam's Ikran took off into the air, the impact made your head spin. The three of you soared through the sky and back to high camp. Neteyam apologized with tears in his eyes whenever you complained in babbles or whined in pain, the aggressiveness of his flying making this entire ride uncomfortable and painful. Yet he couldn't take his sweet time. He had to get you help as quick as possible.

"Lo'ak! My son!" Neytiri, who was soaring into the sky this entire time to take the enemies down, watched as her son's Ikran flew at the speed of light. She was mostly busy in the sky. With the enemies that suddenly came attacking with what the humans call missiles, she was mainly focused on killing. The missiles did great damage to the teams on the ground, so she could only hope there weren't many losses. Neither Neteyam nor Lo'ak called the enemies in, so when he flew past her, she tried calling after him when he neared her, but to no avail. She could see him holding onto a huge figure when he was close. He didn't hear her calling, which was surprising considering their good hearing. Was he ignoring his own mother? She couldn't fly after him and even if she did she wouldn't be able to catch up with him at that speed. She took note to lecture him how dangerous that was and how he was disobeying direct orders. He was supposed to be a spotter with Neteyam. She also wondered where her oldest son was, but for now there were more important things to do. With no other spotters as Lo'ak flew off, Neteyam was nowhere to be found. And where was her mate? Her Jake? Worrying wasn't her main priority at the moment. She was a trained warrior, daughter of the Tsahik. She had her people to take care of, so the only thing she could do right is watch over her people while praying to the great mother her family was alright. "My people, take the supplies and fall back to high camp!!" She caught the screams of her oldest son as she watched him carry you in his arms, all bruised up and bleeding. What in the hell happened?

"GRANDMOTHER!!" Neteyam was the first of the war party to arrive back in high camp. Everyone was cheering at the return of the future Olo'eyktan, but instead of them coming face to face with their mighty warrior, instead they saw a broken young boy in front of them as he held onto your limb body. Mo'at emerged from the rowdy crowd with Kiri, her hands to her mouth as she saw the condition you were in. For a second her strong facade dropped, but then the serious expression returned to her face, "come, follow me." Neteyam wished his grandmother could walk faster as he followed her footsteps, incredibly impatient to know the current condition of his sister. The four of them entered Mo'at's tent and Neteyam immediately put his sister down on one of the makeshift beds. Kiri went to remove her clothing, not even taking her sweet time with the buttons and zippers: she full on cut the clothing off you with her hunter's knife and throwing the shredded pieces behind her. They had to work on you as fast as possible. "What in Eywa's name happened?!" Kiri asked once she finished removing your clothes, stepping away to let the Tsahik do her job. She rushed to the table with herbs and medicines, taking anything that would help reduce your pain. "It all happened so fast and then (Y/N) pushed us away from the explosion and then dad came and tried to protect her but then the explosion went off and then I found her." He rambled on and on, clearly in panic and not thinking straight at all. He wasn't even thinking about his father, who was shielding you from the explosion and probably got the most damage. He fell on his knees as his hands were buried in his braids, "this is my fault, oh eywa, I'm so sorry sissy, please be okay." Kiri's eyes almost fell out of her sockets, "dad is wounded??! Where is he?!?!" She was ready to walk up to Neteyam and shake the living soul out of him, but Mo'at stopped her with her arm. She gave her granddaughter a knowing look. Kiri's gaze softened as she looked at the condition Neteyam was in, tears rolling down his face as he hyperventilated. He was the closest to you, after all.

"OUT OF THE WAY!!" The moment Lo'ak landed in the cave, he jumped off the Ikran with his father on his back. "I NEED HELP! PLEASE HELP!" Jake Sully wasn't breathing, with no groans of pain or curses leaving his lips as he was bleeding everywhere in this condition, Lo'ak knew he had to prepare for the worst. Norm, still in his avatar and who was also at the raid, landed right next to him. He saw everything happen from a few miles away. From the moment you ran away from the explosions, to the moment Jake Sully stepped in, took the hit, and watched his body ascend into the air as he knocked right into one of the crashed helicopters. As one of the Na'vi healers wanted to go up to Lo'ak and help, Norm grabbed Lo'ak shoulder, "follow me! We need him at the lab and hooked on the machines!" Norm knew the spirituality of the Na'vi, wanting to heal their people in the most natural way there is, but no herb could save the condition Jake Sully was in. Maybe Mo'at could perform a ritual, but at the moment hooking him up to machines was maybe the best way for now.

You stirred as Mo'at performed a ritual on you, all kinds of emotions rushing through your body. It felt like your pain slowly disappeared, like an anesthesia that started having an effect. You still saw blurry and your ears rang, but you felt safe knowing the figure holding onto your hand, "Te-" you felt incredibly weak, not even able to say his name. A metallic taste entered your mouth and touched your tastebuds, making you whine. "I'm here sissy, you will be okay." Your mind started wandering back to the explosion. You should have been dead. You were in the middle of the explosion. How were you okay? You pushed your little brothers away to protect them, so who protected you? You tried your best to remember the event, everything was still a mess in your head, but you knew you felt a familiar warmth before you blacked out. Protective. Fatherly. Your eyes widened at the realization. "Where's daddy.." you were weak, but the words managed to escape your lips. Your frantically moved your arms as you wailed, "papa." Neteyam brought both of your hands to his cheeks, hoping his touch would somehow help you. Your sobs left your lips as you cried, the strong warrior facade disappearing as you were now a daughter crying for her dying father. He protected you from the explosion, he stood there as he tried to take most of the hit. After your behavior, he still decided to protect you. Again, you felt the guilt and pain eating you from the inside. You killed their father, her mate. You weren't stupid, you knew what an explosion could do. Kiri took a cloth as she herself felt her eyes tear up, rubbing the skin under your eyes to wipe your tears. "I'm so sorry." Was the one thing that left your lips as you continued wailing, your two siblings sharing your pain with Mo'at quietly finishing the ritual. He was in Eywa's hands now.

"Papa! Let's sit here!" You were carrying a basket in your hands that was almost the same size as you. The two of you were in the city, as you wanted to have a father-daughter date with your dad. You ran to a bench right in front of the mall, putting your basket down as you tried to climb and sit. Jake Sully wheeled your way, as he raised you by your waist to lift you onto the bench. "Thank you papa!!" You giggled and put the basket down next to you, "papa sit here too?" Jake chuckled as you stared expectantly at him. He positioned his wheelchair and raised his butt, quickly moving it to the bench. With your help by holding onto his waist, he managed to sit down. The wheelchair rolled a bit as he moved, but with his feet still on the chair, it managed not to get away. "Thank you babygirl." He pressed a kiss to your temple with a smile. You giggled, feeling incredibly satisfied, as you turned to your left and reached into the basket. "Papa hungy?" You babbled as your head disappeared into the basket, making Jake roar into laughter. "Hey where is my baby?!" He looked around extra confused as he acted like he couldn't see you, his laughter still escaping his lips. You drowned in a fit of giggles and raised your head, "papa here!!" He moved closer to you and tickled your stomach, "are you trying to hide from me! Are you trying to hide from me!" You shook your head at his question, laughing and moving so much to the point you almost fell off the bench. You truly were his home.

"His brain activity is very high for someone that's in terrible condition." Lo'ak watched Max from his seat as he spoke, some device in his hand he thought was called a tablet. "What does that mean?" Lo'ak didn't know any of the smart terms used, he was confused. Was that a good thing? Was his father ever going to wake up? Max taps the tablet as he shrugged, "there could be a spiritual answer to this. Something is happening, something unexplainable." Norm, who switched out of his avatar body, stood next to Max as he watched the screen, "Could it be something similar to connecting to the spirit tree?"

"Do you mean visions?" Norm nodded in response, "He may be in Eywa's hands now." Lo'ak watched his father's expressionless face. He looked so peaceful, without any worries. Whenever Jake looked at him, there was always a frown on his face as his forehead would be creased. In front of him was an expression he never saw on his father before. He never imagined that he would miss that annoyed expression Jake would flash toward him whenever he would cause trouble. He just wished his father would wake up.

Jake felt himself floating, his body fading into nothingness. His eyes were expressionless, as the scene of you dying repeated in his head. "I can't.." he mumbled to himself, believing that you truly had died and that he failed in protecting you, that he was too late in wrapping himself around you, not knowing he was the one in the worst condition. At this point, he closed his eyes, wishing he just died. He couldn't do it without you. "You're terrible, you know that right?" A voice echoed through the darkness and the familiarity made him open his eyes. It was a voice he didn't hear in a while. When he opened his eyes, he wasn't on Pandora. This was earth. Not a sight of green as he stood in an empty city. It wasn't just a city, it was the city he grew up in. The vibe was very gloomy. He looked at his hands, still blue. He was still Na'vi. "Jake, bro don't just ignore me like that." His eyes twitched at that same voice. He looked around, and when he did his surroundings changed. He knew this floor, these walls, and the pictures decorating the mossy green walls. This was his childhood home. He stood in the hallway and slowly made his way to the living room. That's where he saw himself. No, not himself. That wasn't him. It was the only person that looked identical to him. "Good to see you, Jake." Tommy grinned from his seating position on the couch. "Tommy?! You're supposed to be dead! What are you doing here?!" A laugh escaped Tommy's lips in return, motioning for his brother to sit with him, "And you're dying as well, so what are you trying to say?" Jake frowned at that statement. He was dying? What was happening? "You know, you're pretty terrible." Jake took a seat on the much smaller couch in comparison to his size, as he listened to his brother, "how come?"

"Well, first of all, you're a terrible father for both little (Y/N) and your children by blood. Leaving her alone for a new life, THEN!! Then you proceed to also be a terrible father for your Na'vi kids. If I was still alive in my avatar body, I would have been a good man." Tommy explained as he sat back, his hands on the back of his head. Jake wanted to reply, but for some reason, he couldn't talk, as if his mouth got stolen. "Let me finish my talk. You're barely spending time with your kids like a father. Treating them like little soldiers and healers instead of your dad. Then, you try to win little (Y/N) over, proceeding to completely ignore your kids in this process. You're so terrible. And now you're dying!! Wow! The great Jake achieved nothing and he's on his deathbed!!" Tommy clapped while laughing, but Jake couldn't do anything in return. His lip quivered. Was he that bad of a father? He failed everyone around him. His family was his fortress, but he couldn't even be a proper father. "Now now, don't cry. You can come back to life, maybe!" Tommy threw his hand in the air and suddenly Jake could talk again. Sobs left his lips as he got his voice back, "I'm so terrible."

"Good that you realize that!"

"You're not helping, Tommy!" A scream left his lips as he said that. The tears rolled down his cheeks as the realization hit him so hard. "I'm helping though! I'm here to tell you you can live again!" Tommy hit Jake on the back of his head. "But how are you here in the first place?!" This entire thing confused Jake. Was this Eywa's doing? Tommy never went to Pandora and he isn't even connected to a spirit tree. So how? "Listen, I'm as confused as you. But I have been haunting you in my ghost form you know? Anyway, as I was saying. How do you feel about a third chance?" Jake's gaze faltered at that question. He didn't know. He failed as a father, so many times. Did he deserve this one? His second chance was going to Pandora to change his life for the better, but it made him leave his daughter. Now he died, knowing he failed as a father while family was his main priority.

Just what did he do to deserve to live?

A/N: thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you thought. <3 sorry if this part was kinda lacking, been tired.