as long as his fictional, i simp

“Kaltxì, Zalor,” she would reply, voice warm with an overabundance of joy. These days, [Y/N] felt like she couldn’t stop smiling, and while a part of it, she knew, was because Quaritch was officially dead as of four months ago, and the RDA was weaker than ever, [Y/N] knew the truth deep inside. 

“[Y/N]!” That was why. The moment she heard his voice, a comfortable warmth filled her chest, her stomach did a backflip, and she found it impossible to not turn around and look at him. He was a fair distance away, but she couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the speed he was moving, his dark blue skin standing out against the pale sand of Awa’atlu. “[Y/N]!” he hollered again, and finally [Y/N] waved at him.

“Hello, Neteyam,” she greeted, watching in amusement as he tripped on a sand dune, nearly sprawling out on all-fours, although he caught himself before any embarrassment could consume him. Still, at the sound of [Y/N]’s laughter, the boy looked up sheepishly, blushing just slightly.

Four months ago, when Quaritch was finally killed and the RDA was nearly defeated, Neteyam had nearly died. Every time she looked at that idiotic Sully-boy, she couldn’t help but let her eyes trail down to his shoulder where a nasty scar was left behind. A bullet, a sickening piece of the Sky-People’s artillery, had him seconds away from death, bleeding out in a cove, breathing the breaths they all thought would be his last.

[Y/N] had always been a quiet girl. She kept to herself, followed directions like good warriors do, didn’t make dangerous strides. But, that night, when she saw that boy, merely a good friend at the time, nearing death, it was as if she acted on instinct alone. She took him, before Toruk Mahkto or his mate had a chance to disagree, with Tsireya. The two girls, best friends since birth, practically flew across that ocean, [Y/N] holding Neteyam’s limp body steady aboard the ilu.

Tsireya, being the Tsakarem, knew what she was doing as soon as they reached her mother’s supplies. She worked in silence, [Y/N] helping whenever she was directed, and it felt like the world was about to cave in on itself. His shallowing breaths, the thickening puddle of blood, the dark sky outside full of nothing but fire.

Silently, [Y/N] prayed. With watchful, anxious eyes, she prayed to Eywa that Neteyam would be alright. That he would live, because if he didn’t… her stomach plummeted at the thought, and she pushed it away until it only lingered in the periphery of her mind.

An hour had passed, although it felt triple that for Tsireya and [Y/N], before the first warriors began to return. Many were injured, but none were seconds away from death in the same way Neteyam was. “[Y/N],” Tsireya had breathed out, shaky and unsure. “I need you to find my mother.”

When her friend had looked up at her after that, eyes glazed with fear, and worst of all, panic, [Y/N] knew she had to hurry. Tsireya was doing everything she could, but there eventually came a limit to her skills. For now, she could keep the Sully boy alive, but Ronal was the only one who could truly heal him.

“Where is Ronal?” she begged a warrior outside, a lovely boy named Rorín who was just around [Y/N]’s age. “Have you seen her?” When he only shrugged, helpless and injured, dread began to settle in [Y/N]’s chest.

She asked everyone gathered on the docks, ran to the incoming warriors to see if they had, at the very least, spotted her, but it was no use. Just when the tears pooled on her bottom lid, just when she felt that all hope was lost, she finally spotted them on the horizon. Two aqua blobs aboard their swimwings, weapons in hand.

“Tonowari!” She began waving her hands above her head, acting like a lunatic as she signalled to the couple. “Ronal!” Please, she begged, chest tightening, please notice me. And to her luck, she watched as Tonowari slowly pointed to her, redirecting his mate’s attention.

Relief flooded her body as they began moving in her direction, speed increasing tenfold the moment they realized [Y/N], practically an extra child with how close she was to Aonung and Tsireya, needed their help.

By the time they reached the docks, the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan of Awa’atlu were dismounting as soon as they could, feet carrying them to her panicked frame at a frantic speed. “[Y/N],” Tonowari reached out to grab her, checking her up and down for injuries, “what is the matter?”

“I am fine,” she admitted, voice raspy from the tears she’d shed over the past hour and a half. “I am fine, Tsireya is fine. But,” she turned to look at Ronal, desperation in her gaze, “we need your help.”

[Y/N] explained the situation to her on the way to her marui. Explained how the injury occurred, where on the body it was located, the speed in which they treated him, and lastly, explained that, while Tsireya was doing everything she could, they needed Ronal.

As they burst through the curtains, Ronal stifled a gasp at her daughter. Neteyam’s blood coated her arms, her supplies were scattered everywhere, and the boy was barely holding on from where he laid on her table. “Move,” Ronal ordered, and although the tone was demanding, her eyes told another story.

Tsireya backed away, bringing her hands to her face—to which [Y/N] quickly stepped in before they could even linger by her mouth, “We must go wash up,” she whispered gently—and small, quiet sobs wracked her body.

Ronal started working almost immediately, grabbing herbs and pastes and threads and needles, but, for a moment, she paused and looked back at the girls. Her girls. When she turned back to Neteyam’s body, she stated bluntly, “Leave me.” Then, a breath later, “I am proud of you both.”

[Y/N] could still feel the anxiety of that night. The way she and Tsireya shook as they washed the blood off their hands, their tears hot and silent. [Y/N], in desperation, clawed at his skin, trying to remove any sign that Neteyam was ever injured, but it was no use.

Aonung and Rotxo had found them first, their faces creased with concern as they crouched down, meeting their eyes as they asked, “[Y/N], Tsireya, what happened?” And, even as Tsireya relayed the story, voice faint, their faces never changed, their hands never left the girls’ shoulders. They kept them grounded, no matter how much they, too, wanted to cry.

That night, none of them had slept. Just around the bend, the Sully family was getting frantic as well. If [Y/N] listened closely, she could hear Neytiri’s sobs, Kiri’s soft prayers, Tuk’s comforting words. Jake and Lo’ak, as she could’ve guessed, remained silent. Stoic.

“He blames himself,” Tsireya whispered to [Y/N], the two watching the stars blink through the sky. “He blames himself for what happened to Neteyam. Because he made them go back, get their… human friend.”

“Have you spoken with him?” she asked her friend, her head dropping onto Tsireya’s shoulder as she dared, for just a moment, to close her eyes and tempt herself with rest.

She could feel Tsireya shake her head, her thick spirals of hair tickling [Y/N]’s back. “No,” she admitted before resting her chin atop [Y/N]’s head. “But, I know him.” Her eyes drifted to look at Rotxo and Aonung, just a few feet away, curled up and asleep. If it was any other circumstance, [Y/N] is sure she would laugh.

Hours passed, and [Y/N] and Tsireya seemed to take turns fading in and out of sleep. They were exhausted—physically, from having to fight Avatars and escape death on numerous counts, as well as mentally—but they were scared. Scared that, if they fell asleep, they would wake up and Neteyam would be gone.

But, the sun was finally cresting the next morning when the news finally came. [Y/N] would never forget how that felt—the light slowly creeping across her skin, breaking the chill of Awa’atlu’s cold nights. Waves lapped at the dock, soft, gentle, as if the ocean hadn’t any idea of the horrors that had taken place upon her open waters the night before.

[Y/N] dared to lift her head, rubbing exhaustion out of her eyes as she cast a look towards Ronal’s marui. Where Neteyam was lying, trying to beat death. No, she corrected herself, where he is beating death.

And then, the entrance flap opened, and Ronal stepped out.

At the sight, [Y/N] immediately popped up, stirring Tsireya. Instinctively, she grabbed her friend’s hand, and the girl shook her head, her face squished with confusion. “[Y/N]?” she rasped, sitting up slowly. “What is happening?”

All [Y/N] could think to do was grab Tsireya’s head, turning it so she finally looked at mother, waiting expectantly. While Ronal was busy watching the Sullys, silently willing them to come towards her, the Tsahik managed to cast a glance at her daughter and her friend. Then, for just a split second, as Neytiri and Jake were rushing to meet her, Ronal let herself smile. It was small, barely even there if you didn’t look for it, but [Y/N] and Tsireya saw it. And then, she nodded, and both girls knew exactly what she meant, no words necessary.

Neteyam was alive.

Ever since that fateful night, when [Y/N] had, well, helped save his life, there were three big discoveries. First off, Neteyam, and really the entire Sully family, had realized there was much more to [Y/N] than they had assumed. Neytiri had expressed that clearly, thanking the girl for her instincts, for her bravery. “You saved my son,” the Omatikayan woman exhaled, tears welling in her eyes as she squeezed [Y/N]’s hands. “Thank you.”

The second discovery was that there was much more to Tsireya, as well. Not only did Neytiri and Jake express their gratitude towards her, but her own mother finally—finally—expressed her pride. “You did the right thing, daughter. I knew you were intelligent, but I am more proud than ever to know you will be Tsahik in the future.”

The third discovery was, well, a whole lot of love. While Tsireya and Lo’ak already had preexisting interest in each other, this battle, although detrimental, only increased their feelings towards each other. Neteyam and [Y/N] however, were full of new beginnings.

New beginnings that, inevitably, led to a whole lot of secrecy just a month later.

Although, secrecy was beginning to feel like one big, fat lie. 

As Neteyam got closer, his deep blue skin now darkened by the constant barrage of sunlight, [Y/N] felt herself pull back to reality. Out of her memories, out of the terrors that have managed to haunt her, night by night, and instead, into the joy of the present. Into the joy of Neteyam.

“Are you busy?” the Omatikayan boy asked, although his words were slightly drowned out by his heavy breaths, suddenly exhausted from his trip across the sand dune. He stood next to her now, hands on his hips as he looked down with a small boyish grin.

[Y/N] laughed, waving a lazy hand in the air. “Technically, yes,” she admitted. “But, I can make time for you. If you need it,” she teased, eyes dancing with delight as the boy lowered himself to the sand and sat down right next to her. In front of her, a coil of rope—mangrove roots and tough sea plants, morphed together—sat at her feet. She was in the middle of weaving a fishing net, a tedious and arduous task.

“Did you draw the short straw today?” Neteyam asked knowingly. She’d complained about these chores very often to him, and clearly, it was reaching the point where it was a bit too much.

She sighed, leaning back so she rested her weight on her locked arms behind her, and shrugged. “I got to hunt yesterday, so now Aonung’s forcing me to stay here. Sucks that he gets to be all bossy all the time,” she complained with a groan.

“He is the future Olo’eyktan,” Neteyam offered with a laugh. “You’ll be hearing a lot more from him in the coming years.”

She rolled her eyes, although she couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled from her throat. “Yeah, don’t remind me.”

Ever since Neteyam began to recover, their relationship began to bloom. It was quiet at first, respectful, sweet. He didn’t domineer, he just… waited. Offered to help her when she needed it, spent more time around her, watched her in admiration. Soon, they began to see each other regularly, and before they knew it, they found any excuse they could to be together.

Eventually, the two would often sneak out, far after Eclipse, to find each other. [Y/N] brought him into a secret underground cove, one that she had kept to herself since her childhood, but now that she was grown, she finally decided it was time to share it. He was the first one she showed.

Neteyam and [Y/N], admittedly, shared a lot of firsts with each other.

One night, as they laid in that cove, backs pressed against the sand while the tide brushed against their toes, [Y/N] finally dared to ask. “Neteyam,” she caught his attention, voice gentle while she rolled, just slightly, to look at him.

Neteyam could feel her eyes on the side of his face and, habitually, he turned to meet her gaze. “Hm?” he hummed, a content smile resting on his lips. She watched as his gaze drifted—it trekked through her features, her eyes he so often complimented, her lips he could not get enough of, down to the waist he adored, her thighs—

“Eyes up here!” [Y/N] grabbed his chin with her hands, tilting it up so his eyes met hers once again. Laughter shook through his body, echoing across the small cave, and she felt her heart thump a bit faster at the sound. “I am trying to ask you a question here.”

“Alright,” he sighed dramatically, but the smile on his face betrayed him. “What do you want to know, ma’yawne?”

“Stop being such a flirt,” she teased, now fully turning on her side so she could get a full look at him. Her Neteyam. Finally, she took a breath and asked, “Was it me saving your life that convinced you to like me?”

Neteyam answered almost immediately. “No,” he said, with a shake of his head, shocking [Y/N] into pure confusion. “Oh, no. That was… no, [Y/N]. I have liked you since the very first moment I saw you.”

That was not what she’d been expecting.

“When we first arrived in Awa’atlu, you were… you were stunning, [Y/N], and everything in me told me to talk to you. But, I was a coward, and I knew you didn’t really like me, so it was never worth a try.” He shook his head, looking back up at the ceiling of the cave as if reliving his memories. “Then, I almost died. And you saved me. And I realized that, maybe—just maybe—you liked me too.”

An ugly guffaw echoed from [Y/N]’s mouth before she could stop it. Almost immediately, at hearing the sound, she clasped a hand on her lips, face heating up in embarrassment. “That was so much louder than I meant,” she whispered, and this time, both of them erupted into laughter.

“[Y/N]?” Neteyam’s voice brought her out of her head and back to the present. The present where she was still seated on the beach weaving stupid fishing nets because Aonung decided to be an asshole that morning. “[Y/N], are you okay?”

As she snapped back into it, [Y/N] turned to look at Neteyam, whose face was a mixture of amusement and slight concern. “Sorry,” she breathed, a sheepish grin shifting the corners of her mouth upwards. “Stuck in my head.”

He chuckled, shrugging. “It is alright, [Y/N],” he offered, his eyes lingering on her mouth for a second too long. She knew he wanted to kiss her—she wanted to kiss him too—but everything they’d done over the past three months—every kiss, every sensual touch, every deep conversation—had been in secret.

There were many reasons for their secret, but it was primarily because of their parents. In the case of Neteyam, he had a very… expectant mother and father. They’d been pushing him to find a mate right before they’d left High Camp—believing that he would still be the future Olo’eyktan at the time—and now, a part of him was scared they still expected him to create a life back at home. Especially knowing that Quaritch was gone, and the RDA would disappear within the next ten years anyway.

As for [Y/N], her parents were still pushing her to find a mate. To find a strong, stable life with some Metkayina warrior and create strong, stable babies. Just like her mother had done before her, and her grandmother before that. She wasn’t nearly as pressured as Neteyam was—she had no problem fighting her parents, in truth—but it still scared her to think about.

She knew she really wouldn’t have that conversation with them anytime soon, anyway. Well, not until she was truly ready to mate.

But, even though they intended their relationship to remain under wraps regarding their parents, there was only so much they could do when it came to their siblings and friends. While Neteyam and [Y/N], during that first month, believe they were more stealthy and secretive than ever, it turned out, they were anything but.

Tsireya was the first one who noticed. She watched how [Y/N]’s shoulders straightened when she saw Neteyam, how her breathing shallowed, her grin became softer. Easier. And then Neteyam was more joyous than ever. Despite having almost died a month earlier, he would not stop smiling. And his gaze… his gaze was so gentle when he looked at that girl. So kind, so sweet.

Tsireya had, idiotically, asked Lo’ak his opinion on this matter. “You don’t think they’re… seeing each other, do you?” While Lo’ak had no helpful information, he did have a very large mouth that accidentally told Aonung, who told Rotxo, who told Kiri, who confronted Neteyam about it right in front of Tuk. (Not to mention, the amount of bribery it took for Tuk to not tell on them.)

Luckily, their friends didn’t care—they were more annoyed than anything. Annoyed that Neteyam and [Y/N] had kept it a secret from them and for so long. In fact, it was shockingly Aonung who had said, “You know, I literally knew this was gonna happen. Didn’t I, Rotxo?”

Rotxo could only shrug. “Yeah, he bet on it like three weeks ago.” Then, the boy blinked. “Shit, I owe you, don’t I?”

Aonung slapped his friend on the shoulder cheerily. “Two months of chores, if I remember correctly.”

But, even if their friends knew, both Neteyam and [Y/N] knew that their parents would not have as gentle of a reaction. So, even if [Y/N] felt every urge to grab the back of his neck and kiss him right then and there, on that beach, in front of the stupid fishing nets, she couldn’t.

Instead, she smiled softly, looking down at her tired fingers, and whispered, “Will I see you tonight?”

“You’re early,” [Y/N] breathed out a small laugh, walking towards the Omatikayan boy who waited for her in their spot: right by the water, just enough for the seafoam to brush their skin, just enough for the water to send a chill down their arms, just enough for them to appreciate the beauty of this place. The beauty of them.

As she approached him, her steps soft on the cold sand, she started to realize how odd Neteyam seemed. Where he was usually beaming when he saw her, eyes bright and laughter loud, he hadn’t even bothered looking up at her when she entered. Where he was usually sprawled out across the sand, resting after a long, tiring day, he was curled in on himself, shoulders tense.

The smile she’d been wearing just moments before started to slip before she could stop it. “Neteyam?” she asked again, stopping right behind him. Silently, her hands dropped to his shoulders, fingers light against his skin. 

And then, he flinched.

It was small. Slight, barely even existent. [Y/N] had almost missed it—almost.

Instantly, panic settled in her stomach. “Yawntu,” she breathed, her brow furrowing in concern as she looked down at him. “Are you alright?” Suddenly, alarms seemed to blare within her head—warnings of everything that could possibly go wrong. We were fine this morning, she silently cursed herself, stomach churning as her thoughts began to spiral, what the hell could have happened?

What did I do?

Then, Neteyam inhaled, slow and careful, as if he were steadying himself, and only then did he turn his head enough to glance up at her. His eyes were darker than usual, shadowed by something she couldn’t name—she’d seen him stressed before, she’d seen him exhausted. This was… much more.

Then, her eyes flickered to his ears. They were pressed back, flat against his head, and then she knew. This was fear.

“Neteyam,” she exhaled, shaky and low. “Please, talk to me.” It came out more desperate than she expected—practically begging him to just open his goddamn mouth and say something. 

For a long moment, he didn’t answer.

The quiet stretched—too long, too heavy. The soft sounds of the cove filled the space instead: water shifting, something distant calling through the reef, her own breathing suddenly loud in her ears. Neteyam’s gaze dropped back to the water, jaw tightening like he was holding something in by force.

He rubbed his palms against his thighs, once, twice—nervous. “Can you… can you sit for a moment?” he asked, voice low. “Please.”

[Y/N] froze for half a second before obeying, lowering herself beside him, knees brushing his thigh. She folded her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking, from reaching for him when it felt like touching him might make him pull away completely.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, fingers dragging down slowly, like he was buying time. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter—rough around the edges.

“I need you to listen,” he said. “And I know you’re going to want to… to say something. But, please,” he paused, eyes meeting hers, and she suddenly realized there wasn’t just fear in his eyes… there was sorrow. “Please let me just speak. Uninterrupted.”

Her heart stuttered. Suddenly, this cave didn’t feel like salvation anymore. It felt like suffocation.

But, despite how much she wanted to claw at her own throat, how much she wanted to run out of here and find fresh air, she didn’t move. She stayed exactly where she was, and no matter how much she didn’t want to, she nodded. “Okay,” [Y/N] whispered. “I’m here. I’m listening.”

Neteyam swallowed, his gaze drifting past her and out towards the dark mouth of the cove. Almost as if he was trying to look at anything except her. Slowly, he opened his mouth, eyes returning back to his hands as he rasped, “I found out something today.”

[Y/N] blinked, and as her confusion seemed to intensify, so did her anxiety. Her breath wavered, her hands shook, her heart threatened to thump out of her chest. But, she willed to stay still, to stay silent.

Beside her, Neteyam seemed to be fighting for words. For a moment, he opened his mouth, but when no sound came out, leaving him agape, he closed it very tightly. She couldn’t help but watch his lips—the way they puffed out as he ran his tongue over his teeth, the way his jaw tightened as he grit his molars together.

Finally, he tried again. “My parents,” he exhaled, voice somehow even rougher than before, “They—my father and mother, they’ve been walking for a while. About… about home.”

The logical side of her instantly knew what this meant, instantly understood what he was trying to say, but she wasn’t ready to face that. Not yet. [Y/N] didn’t want to draw any conclusions, didn’t want to assume—she wanted Neteyam to say it. So, despite the way her chest tightened, despite how difficult breathing suddenly became, she only nodded, eyes wide and expectant.

That was finally when he turned to look at her, his bright yellow eyes meeting hers. They were glossy—full of tears threatening to spill. The silence that spread between the two of them was thick, suffocating. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. So could she.

“And?” she prompted softly, though something cold had already begun curling in her stomach.

That’s when the first tear spilled, rolling slowly down his cheek. “I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else,” he said quickly, words tumbling now that they’d started. “I wanted to tell you myself, I just—” then, he laughed once, breathless and humorless. “I didn’t know how.”

That cold she’d felt earlier suddenly blossomed. It filled her chest, her lungs, it spread down her legs, through her arms. It strangled her, it imprisoned her. “Neteyam,” she breathed, fingers curled into the sand. “Tell me what?”

But she already knew.

Then came the final blow, blunt and honest and bitter and terrifying. “We’re leaving,” he finally said.

It felt like, at that moment, the second those words crawled out of his mouth, sick and cruel as they were, time stopped. The world suddenly felt silent and thunderous simultaneously. [Y/N] couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe. Everything felt wrong.

“No,” she’d uttered, without really meaning to. “No, no.” Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “No, no, no, no. This isn’t right.” Neteyam didn’t know what to do—he watched her, just inches away, as she spiralled. Her hands gripped the sand, trying desperately to tether herself to this world before it all disappeared. Before this beautiful life that she had spent months envisioning with Neteyam just… disappeared.

“[Y/N],” Neteyam tried, his voice weak with his own grief. Weak with unshed tears and overdue screams. Weak with frustration and guilt. “[Y/N], please,” he begged, and slowly, his hand drifted to touch her thigh—

“No!” She pushed his hand off as soon as she felt it. “No, Neteyam! You don’t get to… you don’t get to comfort me.”

Her voice echoed off the stone, sharp enough to hurt both of them.

Neteyam’s hand dropped back to his lap like it burned. He didn’t argue. Didn’t reach for her again. He just stared at the place where she’d shoved him away, ears flicking back harder, tail curling tight around his ankle like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I know,” he said hoarsely. “I know.”

That somehow made it worse.

She stood abruptly, the movement frantic, unsteady, sending sand scattering into the shallow water. “You can’t just say that,” she snapped, turning on him. Her chest heaved, breaths shallow and fast. “You can’t say you’re leaving like it’s—like it’s a storm passing through, Neteyam. Like it doesn’t ruin everything.”

He pushed himself to his feet more slowly, like sudden movement might shatter her completely. They were eye to eye now, too close, the air between them tight and buzzing.

“I didn’t want this,” he said. His voice cracked on the last word.

“Well neither did I,” she shot back. Her eyes burned, wet but furious. “But I’m the one who gets left behind.”

The words landed heavy and unforgiving.

Neteyam flinched this time—really flinched. “That’s not fair,” he breathed, looking down at his lap as the tears poured, as thick and hot as the guilt that coursed beneath his skin. “I didn’t choose—”

She shook her head, pacing a few steps away, then back again, like the space between them physically hurt. “Then why does it feel like you’re letting it happen?”

The words slipped out too sharp, too cruel. She knew it the second they left her mouth.

But Neteyam didn’t deny it either.

Instead, he let out a shaky breath. “They expect so much from me,” he admitted, voice low. “I wanted to stay—I wanted to tell them—but this is the life they want for me. I don’t get to make these decisions—”

[Y/N]’s tail lashed in anger, cutting him off as she made an incredulous sound. “You’re right, they do expect a lot from you. But you could’ve at least tried to fight for us!” Then, she paused, eyes burning a hole into the side of his head as she sobbed, “Why didn’t you fight for us?”

At that, Neteyam went still. Not defensive. Not angry. Just… still.

His eyes dropped to the sand between them, jaw tightening like he was bracing for impact. When he spoke, his voice was low and painfully calm. “Because that’s who I am,” he said, finally looking at her again. His eyes were glossy, hollow in a way that made her throat close. “I’m the son who doesn’t argue. The one who doesn’t make things harder. The one who does what he’s told.”

Silence swallowed them whole.

“You didn’t even hesitate?” she whispered.

His breath shuddered. “I hesitated the entire time,” he admitted. “I just didn’t say anything.”

That was somehow worse.

“You didn’t offer to stay,” she stated—not a question, just a fact—voice now trembling. “You didn’t ask them if I could come with you.”

“I couldn’t,” he replied. “Because if I asked, it would’ve meant I was choosing you.” His voice cracked. “And I don’t know how to live with myself if I choose wrong.”

Her anger burned hot and sharp. “So you chose them.”

His head bowed. “I chose what I was raised to choose.”

She laughed once, broken and disbelieving. “You didn’t even give us a chance.”

“I know,” he whispered.

Silence enveloped them, heavy and painful and cruel. Silence enveloped them as tears rolled down each of their faces, their breaths labored and rapid and gasping. Silence enveloped them as they looked at each other in disdain, in anger, in hurt, but somehow still in adoration. In love. Tragic love.

Finally, [Y/N] asked, voice cracking, “When do you leave?”

And that was the real kicker, wasn’t it?

Neteyam swallowed, his eyes closing briefly. “Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

The word didn’t land all at once. It seeped in slowly, like water filling her lungs.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her chest hitched—once, twice—and suddenly breathing wasn’t working the way it was supposed to. Too shallow. Too fast. Her hands flew to her ribs like she could force air back into herself.

“No,” she rasped, backing away from him. “No—no, I can’t—”

She turned sharply, stumbling toward the mouth of the cave like it was the only place oxygen still existed. Her feet slipped in the sand, panic clawing up her throat, her vision blurring.

“[Y/N]—wait!” Neteyam lunged after her.

She didn’t.

She burst out of the cave into open air, sobbing openly now, gasping like she’d been underwater too long. Her hands pressed to her chest as she staggered across the sand, tears streaking hot and uncontrollable down her face.

“Leave me alone!” she screamed, voice cracking as she spun on him. “Just—just leave me alone!”

Neteyam stopped short, heart slamming against his ribs. “Please,” he begged, closing the distance anyway. “Please, just let me explain—”

“There is nothing to explain!” she cried, backing away again. “You made your choice!”

Her voice carried.

Too far.

A ways away, Aonung and Rotxo sat together, playing some stupid game. But, at the sound of yelling, Aonung looked up from where he’d been laughing with Rotxo—just in time to see [Y/N] crying, doubled over in pain, Neteyam reaching for her again.

Aonung had been friends with [Y/N] since they were barely walking. They’d been there for each other through thick and thin—she was still his friend when he went through the phase of being a total prick, and he was still [Y/N]’s friend when she declared all boys had ‘cooties.’ Aonung’s idea of loyalty was born with [Y/N], so the moment he saw her and Neteyam, something inside the Metkayina boy snapped.

Aonung was already on his feet before Rotxo could even think of stopping him. “Hey!” Aonung yelled, his voice deep as he walked across the sand, closing the distance between him and Neteyam, “Get the hell away from her.”

“Aonung, please,” Neteyam begged, his bloodshot eyes bright with desperation. “You don’t understand, I need to—”

The moment Neteyam even dared to take another step towards [Y/N], Aonung acted without thinking. The moment he dared to walk towards her, the Metkayina boy found his hands on Neteyam’s chest, shoving him back with as much strength as he could muster. “I said stay away from her.”

Neteyam stumbled, stunned by Aonung’s force. “Aonung,” he tried again, his eyes continuing to glance off of his friend’s shoulder to find [Y/N]’s shaking frame, barely keeping it together. “I need to explain—”

“Neteyam,” Aonung warned, voice suddenly low as he looked his friend in the eye. “I don’t wanna hurt you, but you need to walk away. Right now.”

But, Neteyam wasn’t thinking about his safety—he was thinking about her, so he took one more step—

Aonung didn’t hesitate. His fist connected with Neteyam’s jaw in an instant, sending him crashing into the sand with a sharp cry. The sound echoed—bone on bone, breath knocked clean.

“Holy shit,” a voice gasped from behind him, and Aonung knew instinctively it was Rotxo. Before he could stop him, his friend’s arms were wrapped around him, holding him back before he could send another swing Neteyam’s way.

But, Rotxo wasn’t the only one to notice the scene.

“What the hell happened?” Lo’ak demanded, running over with Tsireya on his heels—both of them were already teary from their own inevitable goodbye, and deep down, they knew exactly what had gone on.

Aonung looked up at Lo’ak, jaw tight as he pointed a sharp finger at the younger Sully boy. “Keep your punk-ass brother away from her,” he snapped, before his eyes tracked back down to Neteyam who was currently struggling to sit up. Then, quieter, “He made her cry.”

Behind them, Tsireya was already at [Y/N’s side, arms wrapping around her shoulders and pulling back gently—but firmly—away from the scene. “[Y/N], come on,” she murmured, voice soft with comfort, but with enough urgency to get her to start moving. “Let’s go, let’s go.”

But, just as she started moving, she heard her name leave his mouth again, and her head instinctively flipped over her shoulder. “[Y/N], please—” Neteyam called, voice raw, desperate.

Aonung jerked forward again, fury reigniting. “Do not say her name.”

Instantly, Tsireya tugged her again, her free hand turning her head forward before they made steps in the wrong direction. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Let’s get you home.”

“Bro,” Rotxo muttered urgently to Lo’ak, tightening his grip on Aonung, “you gotta get him out of here.”

Lo’ak hesitated only a second before kneeling beside Neteyam, hauling him to his feet. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Not now.”

Neteyam didn’t fight it, didn’t fight his brother’s grip on his shoulders, didn’t fight as he forced him to his feet and far away from that goddamn beach. But, even as he left, as Lo’ak turned him around and led him back to their marui, he couldn’t help it. He kept looking at her over his shoulder, looking at [Y/N]’s fragile frame, her sobs muddled against Tsireya’s shoulders, her body shaking with every breath. He watched her until he couldn’t see her anymore.

And it hurt worse than the punch ever could.

“Oh, [Y/N],” Tsireya whispered, her voice soft as she rubbed circles into her friend’s back. The two were cuddled together in Tsireya’s nivi—truly meant for only one Na’vi at a time, but the two girls had made it work for two all throughout their childhood—arms wrapped around each other. For [Y/N], it felt like her grasp on Tsireya was a life ring, keeping her afloat, and for Tsireya, their embrace was full of as much love as she could muster.

They’d gotten there only moments before, but even now, as they settled into a comfortable position, [Y/N] couldn’t find words. Each time she tried, reaching desperately to find something—anything—to say, her chest wrenched, and another sob shook her shoulders.

But, Tsireya was patient as ever. She let her friend cry, holding her tightly as each new wave of emotion shook her sails. There wasn’t much she could do or say that would fix this new hole in her friend’s heart, but she knew that, at the very least, she could be there. Hold her.

But, after almost half an hour like that, [Y/N]’s sobs slowly calmed into silence. Tears still streamed across her face, but they were more inconveniences than obstacles, and soon, she found a question itching at the back of her throat. Quietly, she opened her mouth and asked, voice hoarse, “What about Lo’ak?” How selfish, [Y/N] realized, silently cursing herself. I’ve been so wrapped up in myself that I completely forgot… Lo’ak was leaving her, too. 

When she was only met with silence, [Y/N] stirred, breaking their embrace as she leaned back to get a better look at Tsireya. Panic settled in her chest as she did so, fully expecting Tsireya to have her own meltdown, but instead, she was faced with a bittersweet smile.

Incredulous, [Y/N] couldn’t help but ask, “You’re not mad he’s leaving?”

Tsireya couldn’t help but laugh at the question, wiping tears from her eyes. “No,” she admitted, voice thick with emotion. “I’m sad, naturally, but… well, he told me he’d stay. If I wanted him to. Said he’d fight his parents so he could stay with me.” While reminiscing on a conversation that had only happened hours ago, Tsireya’s eyes drifted, almost mesmerized. The smile on her lips was soft. Sweet. Gentle. “I told him no, though. Told him to go, stay with his family, live the life he was supposed to live in the forest. One day, I told him, Eywa will bring us back together, and if she doesn’t…” she laughed again, but this time, she let the tears fall. “If she doesn’t, I said I’d hunt him down myself.”

[Y/N] tried. She really did. She tried to keep her pain at bay, tried to smile back and enjoy Tsireya’s story—tried to appreciate how truly perfect she and Lo’ak were. But, she couldn’t hold her face. Couldn’t stop the floodgates. Couldn’t stop picturing his stupid, idiotic, annoying, gorgeous face.

Tsireya faded into silence when she noticed her friend, a frown settling onto her face once again. The Tsakarem reached out, carefully, and placed a gentle hand on [Y/N]’s as she dared to ask, “He didn’t offer to stay?”

“No.” The word nearly didn’t make it out of her mouth, caught on the rough edges of her vocal chords. “He didn’t. And you know what’s even worse?” She paused, biting her lip as she stared out the marui and into the deep, black ocean. “I’m so fucking in love with him, I would’ve followed him to the ends of the earth. But, he didn’t offer that either.”

Tsireya’s arms were wrapped around her almost immediately, gripping [Y/N] to her chest as a mother would to a saddened child. She held her in a strong, enduring embrace, eyes closed as she felt each of [Y/N]’s sobs vibrate through her shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long time.

The voices came before the footsteps.

Low at first, muffled by the walls—Aonung’s sharp and agitated, Rotxo’s quieter, trying to keep him in check. Tsireya stiffened almost immediately, her hand pausing where it rested against [Y/N]’s back. [Y/N] barely registered it. She was still staring out at the water, eyes glassy, shoulders heavy like gravity had doubled.

The doorway darkened.

Aonung stood there with Rotxo just behind him, both of them hesitating like they’d walked up to something fragile and weren’t sure where to put their hands. Aonung’s knuckles were scraped raw, one split and still red. His jaw was tight—not angry anymore. Something closer to sheepish. Or worse. Guilty.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Tsireya straightened, her eyes flicking immediately to her brother’s hand, and eventually, she let out a heavy sigh. Long. Flat. Dangerous.

“Did you really need to punch him?”

Aonung bristled on instinct. “He made her cry.”

Tsireya turned fully toward him now, incredulous. “That is not—”

“And,” he cut in, gesturing sharply toward [Y/N], “he wasn’t leaving her alone when she asked. So, pardon me for being a gentleman.”

Rotxo winced.

Tsireya crossed her arms, her gaze unimpressed. “Gentlemen do not attack people without cause.”

“There was a cause,” Aonung shot back. “My friend was crying. Is that really so wrong?”

She stared at him for a long second, then rolled her eyes and turned back to [Y/N], muttering something under her breath that sounded a lot like unbelievable.

The silence that followed was thick again—different from before, heavier with witnesses.

Rotxo cleared his throat, clearly choosing his words with care. “So,” he said gently, eyes flicking between all three of them, “what did he do?”

[Y/N]’s lip trembled. She hadn’t meant for it to, but the image of Neteyam’s face—tear-streaked, apologetic, helpless—rose too fast, too sharp. Tsireya noticed immediately.

“The Sullys are returning home,” Tsireya said instead, firm but soft. “Tomorrow.” She paused, then added, “Neteyam too.”

Silence.

Aonung’s eyes widened. “Oh shit,” he breathed. Then, quieter, horrified, “And I punched him in the face. This does not bode well for international relations.”

Tsireya snorted despite herself. “You’ll both survive.” She waved off his concerns with a lazy hand. “All you guys do is punch each other and make up. The simplicity of males.” For a moment, her eyes flickered to [Y/N]—a part of her knew she should laugh, but she couldn’t bring herself to it.

“You’re probably right,” Aonung admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, before finally looking at [Y/N], and almost instantly, his gaze softened with concern. Her eyes were swollen, lashes clumped, shoulders still shaking faintly like her body hadn’t gotten the message that the worst of it was over. His mouth opened. Then it closed.

Whatever he’d been about to say clearly wasn’t enough.

Rotxo stepped in smoothly, resting a hand on Aonung’s arm. “We’ll let you be,” he said, already steering him back toward the door.

As they left, Tsireya moved closer again, pulling [Y/N] back into her arms without a word, and this time, [Y/N] didn’t break. She did not cry, she did not sob into Tsireya. Instead, she just closed her eyes, praying that sleep would take her before she started spiraling again.

Outside, their footsteps faded.

Inside, the grief stayed.

Morning came too fast.

The village was already awake when [Y/N] arrived, though she stayed on the edges, tucked into the shade where the woven canopies cast long shadows across the sand. The ocean was calm—offensively calm—like it didn’t know it was about to lose something.

Her eyes were still puffy, her skin tight from crying herself empty the night before.

A few feet away, Tsireya stood near the center of the gathering, helping Neytiri secure supplies, her movements steady and practiced. She glanced back every so often, checking the shore, checking for her friend.

The rest of the Sully family was quiet—a very unusual trait for their lot. Lo’ak stood off to the side, silent as his gaze rested on Tsireya and her busy hands. Kiri hovered nearby, expression distant, like she was already half somewhere else.

And Neteyam—

[Y/N] didn’t let herself look at him. Not yet.

But just as [Y/N] was starting to believe she’d chosen a fine enough hiding spot—just far enough away where she couldn’t be spotted, but close enough that she could still watch them leave—a voice called her name, cutting through the melancholy quiet.

“[Y/N]!”

Before she could brace herself, a little body barreled toward her, nearly tripping over her own feet before colliding into [Y/N]’s legs. She dropped to her knees instinctively, catching Tuk in her arms.

“Hey,” [Y/N] murmured, forcing a smile onto her lips. “Hey, bug.” At Tuk’s warbling lip, her glossy eyes, the older girl ran a soft thumb across her cheek.

“I don’t want to go,” Tuk admitted, quiet as tears threatened to spill over. If [Y/N] hadn’t been sad before, the poor devastation on this girl’s face was enough to send her over the edge. But despite that, she held it back, willing herself to be strong for Tuk—even if she really didn’t want to be.

“I know,” [Y/N] whispered, cradling her face gently. “But you get to go home. And you know what? You will always—always—be welcome back here, bug.”

Slowly, Tuk nodded, accepting [Y/N]’s comforting truths. Then, “You promise?”

Instinctively, [Y/N] held up her hand, all fingers balled tight into a fist except the smallest one—a silly act that Tuk had taught her all those months ago. “Pinky swear.”

Tuk giggled slightly, despite the tears that trickled down her face, as she wrapped her own tiny finger around [Y/N]’s. Then, just as she was letting go, her eyes widened, and a gasp left her mouth.

“I almost forgot!” she exclaimed, looking down at her other hand.

Carefully, Tuk removed a delicate, hand-threaded bead bracelet from her wrist, and as soon as it was free, she held it up to [Y/N] like it was made of pure gold.

“I made this for you.” Her voice was quiet now. Shy.

[Y/N] gaped quietly, her chest blooming with warmth as she picked up the bracelet gently. “For me?” she asked, and before she even knew it, a small smile spread across her face—a small, but real, smile.

Tuk nodded silently, looking down as she wrung her own hands. “Yes,” she admitted. “I made it so you don’t forget us. Kiri, or Lo’ak, or Neteyam…” [Y/N] held back a flinch. “Or me.”

[Y/N] felt as though her throat was closing, and silently, she let a small tear fall down her cheek. “I could never forget you, Tuk,” she breathed, a bittersweetness to her words, “even if I tried.”

Then she brought her arms around the youngest Sully, pulling her into her chest. Tuk clung to her like she might float away.

All around them, farewells were being exchanged. Lo’ak threw a gentle punch at Aonung before they eventually pulled each other into a quick embrace. Neteyam exchanged quiet goodbyes with Rotxo. Kiri and Tsireya held each other in a teary hug. Neytiri and Jake thanked Ronal and Tonowari for everything.

Eventually, Tuk pulled away when she heard Tsireya calling her name. Although she hesitated for just a moment, not wanting to leave [Y/N], the Metkayina girl shook her head, a small chuckle falling from her lips.

“Go,” she told the young Sully. “You have many fans.”

And as Tuk ran away, [Y/N] looked up and found Lo’ak walking toward her.

The second Sully son stopped a few steps in front of her, rocking slightly on his heels like he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands. His eyes flicked briefly to the bracelet still clutched in [Y/N]’s fingers, then back to her face.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey,” she echoed.

Then she stepped toward him, and the two wrapped their arms around each other in a warm embrace. After everything over the past few months, Lo’ak and [Y/N] had become fast friends. They’d started from a slightly threatening relationship, as [Y/N] warned him against breaking her best friend’s heart, but they soon grew closer when Lo’ak realized he could threaten her too.

Although neither of them had really expected Neteyam to be the one who broke her heart.

As they hugged, Lo’ak muttered the soft, powerful words, “I’m so sorry,” into her ear.

At the sound, [Y/N] felt herself go rigid in his embrace, as if he’d reminded her of everything all at once—of her distress, of what was coming. But if he felt her shift, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t loosen his grip.

“He’s an idiot, y’know. A real one,” Lo’ak continued quietly. “And that doesn’t mean you owe him anything—doesn’t mean you should forgive him. But… just know he never meant to hurt you. He just doesn’t know how to choose himself.”

Silence swallowed the two of them whole as Lo’ak slowly dropped his arms and stepped back to look at her.

Finally, she whispered, “I know.”

At her words, they exchanged one last silent look, both knowing they’d said everything they could. From there forward, it was all in Eywa’s time.

So Lo’ak nodded once, a gentle smile playing at his lips, before he stepped back and found Tsireya.

And then—

She felt it. That pull in her chest. That awareness she’d been avoiding since sunrise.

She lifted her head.

Neteyam stood a few paces away.

He wasn’t moving. Wasn’t speaking. Just watching her like stepping forward might shatter something fragile and already broken. His face was tight with restraint, eyes red-rimmed, hands curled uselessly at his sides.

For one heartbeat, she waited.

For one foolish, hopeful second, she thought he might cross the distance.

He didn’t.

Something inside her closed—cleanly, decisively.

[Y/N] turned away before the tears could fall, before her face could give her away. She walked back toward the shade, her breath coming too fast, her heart breaking all over again with every step.

Behind her, she heard her name—soft, cracked—but she didn’t stop.

She couldn’t.

"Everyone knows the story of Icarus, who Daedalus warned not to fly too near to the sea, nor too close to the sun.

Have caution, they are saying, because when they tell you this story they are Daedalus.

Have caution, I am saying, because when I tell you this story, you are Ikarus and I am the sun."

— ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ —

Ao’nung wasn’t always in love with you. And there’s nothing he wishes more, than for the time to come back where he wasn’t. That time, before that dumb arrangement.

It was a double edged sword.

It wasn't so much a friends with benefits arrangement as it was a assured destruction. Because Ao’nung hadn’t known what he was agreeing to.

“Nungy, would you do me a favour?”


You see, spending every possible second with you has taught Ao’nung to be cautious, to pick up on those minuscule changes in your voice, in your eyes. And the way you called him by this silly little nickname made goosebumps break out over his skin, because whenever you blinked up at him with those big doe eyes and that innocent little smile and then called him nungy, he knew that there was something that you wanted and he also knew that there was no way he could ever deny you.


“I’ll do you one too,” you promised, tilting your head, a mischievous smile tugging on the corner of your lips. Oh, you little…


“…alright. What do you want now, hm?”


Looking back, Ao’nung realizes that this was his first mistake. His next mistake was not getting up and running when you grinned at him like he was some prey that just walked into your trap. His biggest mistake, however, was not saying no when you proposed this strange arrangement.

"Please pretend that you… that you want me. That there’s something between us. Just for a while nungy, please. Maybe that would make him jealous, would make him realize that he wants me too."


Or maybe he made the first mistake long before that. Maybe his biggest mistake was to befriend that little girl he made fun of, twenty years ago. Or maybe it was making fun of you in the first place. Maybe he should’ve never picked on you, should’ve never made you cry, maybe he should’ve never went to you and apologize, because he has never apologized to anyone else ever before. Maybe he shouldn’t have blushed like an idiot when you accepted his apology, swung your little arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug, told him it was okay. Maybe, just maybe, he should’ve never made the girl cry that then accepted his apology so unconditionally that Ao’nung swore he would never let anything bad happen to you ever again, because you were the first person to accept him as he is, that could see through his façade and saw something good. Something worth to be loved.

He hadn’t known that he was agreeing to losing himself and becoming inseparable from you. Or maybe he had, he’d already known he needed you like his lungs needed air to breathe when it was just friendship between the two of you. He just hadn’t counted on how much his own helplessness to the whole situation would drive him crazy. How it would only be a matter of time before you sunk beneath his bones and nurtured this deep seated familiarity into a love so fierce that he would question if he had ever truly been in love before you came along.

But your love was directed to someone else.

Every single nerve-ending burned with the desire to haul a fist over and slam it into his face. It was on the verge of painful just to hold his muscles tightly still whenever he was around. If he did anything to this piece of shit, Ao’nung knew he would be the one to get punished for it.

Neteyam. He’s the one his tsawke was so head over heels for. The omatikaya prince that grew roots on his island a couple of years ago when his family sought otulu within his clan.

Ao’nung knew you had your eyes on him ever since you took part in training him for his second iknimaya with the metkayina. But he didn’t deserve your kindness. Neteyam didn’t deserve any of the things you did for him, the things you still do. Not with the way he had that filthy grin on his face when his eyes roamed your body. Not with the way he acted all innocent and kind in front of others, but his true nature made Ao’nung scrunch his nose in disgust.

Neteyam just wasn’t a good guy. Sure, he had this special talent in making others believe that he was, but he certainly wasn’t.

You’ve spent years trying to get his attention with courting gifts, fleeting touches and seductive words. But while Neteyam seemingly tried to leave his filthy fingertips on every women in the village, he barely paid you any mind. Just enough though, once in a while, to keep you wanting him, keep you on edge. Like this was all just a fun little game to him.

But what shocked Ao’nung most was, that you knew. You knew that he was a flirt, knew that he slept around, knew that he was playing with you, kept your hopes up for years on end but never returned any of these feelings or kind gestures to you and yet you still couldn’t peel your eyes away from him. It made his blood boil, because how could a smart little thing like you be so blind, so dumb to fall for him, of all people?

Truth be told, Ao’nung wasn’t even sure if part of the reason he agreed to any of this was that he was hoping it would work. Ao’nung was hoping this would get Neteyam jealous, he was hoping this would hurt him as much as it hurt you to find him flirting with another woman yet again, to find him wearing the bracelet you made while his hand was buried between another woman’s thighs. Yes, Ao’nung hoped it would hurt him. Even if he was hurting himself on the way.

But by eywa, could hurting himself feel any better?

The first time he gave in to you was intense. It left you with a noticeable, unplaceable stiffness in your walk the next morning, but aching to have him again. Ao’nung found himself unable to lean his weight fully against anything for three days, his muscles sore, feeling thicker than usual. There were gouges from your nails in his back, bruises from his hands on your body, marks from his teeth everywhere they could possibly cover. Marks that were normally meant for no one to see, yet you displayed them like they were art, meant to be noticed, to be seen.

"Louder, tsawke. Let him hear you."

He doesn’t know what drives him more insane. The feeling of your walls clamping down around his cock, squeezing him so painfully tight it felt like he might come undone at any second. Or the knowledge that you were doing this only now that he had mentioned him. Not that it actually mattered.

A wet rhythmic smack of flesh against flesh filled the air in your marui. Ao’nungs hands were at your hips in a tight grasp, your cheek shoved against the ground, ass high in the air as he pounded into you.

"Let him hear how good I’m making you feel", he whispered against the shell of your ear. "Moan my name."

Selfish, yes.

But you just sound so sweet when you gasp his name like that, with that whiny tone in your voice that’s halfway muffled into the sheets, little punched out moans garnishing the whole thing before his cock started throbbing inside you.

He made sure Neteyam heard every little noise you made, every moan, every whimper and every filthy squelch of his cock drilling into your wet heat. Ao’nung made sure he heard all of it. You were his, he let himself believe. Even if it was just for now, just for this.

"Ao’nung!" The name rolled off your tongue as a whimper, a gasp, followed by a choked-off moan as he gripped your hips and pressed himself closer against you, buried his face into the crook of your neck and lapped at the bite marks that he only recently put there.

Anyone could claim their mate with a courting gift, he thought proudly, sucking yet another hickey into your throat as he simultaneously trusted into you. But these bites and hickeys, they were an art that required precise observation from their presenter and the complete trust from their acceptor.

These weren’t cold, lifeless symbols of affection, no. You couldn’t just take them off. But they had short lifespans, often only a few days, a week if he was lucky. And this gave him the opportunity to continue to give you new ones over and over, of different sizes, shapes and colors; and if he didn't feel like putting them on your throat, then he could put them on your breasts, your hips, on your wrists, your shoulders or your thighs.

Your entire body was an available canvas for these markings and he took great advantage of this.

Ao’nung liked having the ability to move them and create new ones as the old faded and disappeared. He liked having the opportunity to accept and receive his own markings when your old ones had once again retreated from sight.

They were profoundly intimate, a powerful symbol that was physically felt each and every time it was given to an extent that any other courting gift never would be.

— ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ —

Yesterday night’s memories were still pretty much livid in front of his minds eye as Ao’nung not so subtle failed to listen to his so called friends about whatever they were talking about.

Nothing they weren’t used to. It’s not like he had ever actively participated in a conversation that wasn’t about him, anyways. And it’s not like he cares much about what that says about him. Ao’nung knows these guys aren’t really his friends. At least not like you are. They’re more like his goons, brainless little minions that have been following him around and would listen to every one of his orders since the day they found out he will be the next olo’eyktan. He’s almost certain that they wouldn’t stick to him if it weren’t for this fact.

Gentle waves rock him back and forth on his tsurak, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the vast ocean, his spear-gun strapped to his back as they wait for the rest of the hunting party to join them.

Ao’nung doesn’t need a mirror to know that he must’ve looked like he was ready to commit a crime when some of the younger hunters were accompanied by the Sully brothers, and he wonders which of these skxawngs had invited them so he knew which of them to exile from any hunts for the next month or so.

Neteyam greets the others first as he approches, polite as ever, but there’s a knowing, dirty little grin reserved just for him as he turns in his direction to reach a hand out for him to shake, like they’re friends. Ao’nung fights the urge to scoff and roll his eyes at that.

Reaching their chosen spot, he then signals the other hunters to prepare their fishing spears and nets. Each of them take their position, their eyes keenly scanning the water's surface for any sign of movement, while some others submerge into the deeper water.

However, Ao’nungs own eyes are unfocused. He has a hard time concentrating on anything other than that insufferable forest boy swimming only mere inches away from him. Like letting his five fingered freak of a brother participate wasn’t already enough of an insult to his warriors pride. No, now there were two of these demon spawns here with him. He knew Neteyam wasn’t even doing anything particular annoying, yet it felt like he was taunting him with every breath he took.

It was as if he could sense his thoughts, because a shadow suddenly casts over the spot Ao’nung had aimed his spear to, making it impossible for him to see through the waters surface. Looking up, Ao‘nung is then met with a pair of golden eyes and sharp teeth grinning back at him.

Any complain about Neteyam blocking out the sun so the man would hopefully move and bother someone else dies on his tongue, the moment his gaze lands on the shiny pearl that’s dangling over his shoulder, tidily braided into a strand of ink-black hair.

Ao’nung would probably recognize this white pearl everywhere. He was with you the day you had found the shell, had watched you crave and polish it for hours. He had wordlessly sat besides you, pondering if you even realized that a similar pearl garnished his songcord as a reminder of the day he had met you. That he had once sat where you sat, spent hours working in concentration to crave the pearl from such a filigree shell that his hands were hurting for days, hoping you would return the gesture to him one day.

"Neat, huh?" The omatikaya smiles, but it’s not a genuine one, before he brushes through his braids and twirls the pearl between his fingertips. It makes Ao’nung snap out of his thoughts, and he’s quick to advert his gaze to the sun, secretly hoping it will burn his eyes so he would never have to look at it on him again.

He just hums, barely a coherent response. While he wants to agree, simply for the fact that you had made it, he would also rather die than compliment the demons son. And he knows Neteyam just want to force a reaction out of him, so he chose to end the conversation right here and wordlessly swims a little further, where he then aims his spear to the waters surface, targeting a fish with precision and—

"Almost as pretty as the little thing that made it for me." Neteyam squints his eyes at him as he chuckles, and this time his amusement is sincere. Aimed to hit a nerve.

With a swift motion, Ao'nung hurles his spear into the water, but it completely misses the shimmery fish that had caught his eyes.

He turns to glare at the man that’s practically begging to be the next target. His Tsurak growls, making the water around him vibrate as it feels the anger radiating off his rider through the bond.

"I didn’t mean to insult you", Neteyam laughs and shakes his head, holding his hands up in surrender. "You two are awfully close, no?"

With a sigh, he regains his composure, takes a deep breath and, afraid that whatever might come out of his mouth would only start something that wouldn’t do him good, simply choose to nod instead, his eyebrows still drawn together tightly. Neteyams grin still hasn’t vanished, yet he seems to mimic the way Ao’nungs spine had straightened, which in return made him feel like he was under interrogation.

"How come I still haven’t seen any courting gifts on her then? Whatever it is called that you have with her, is that some kind of arrangement or…?"

"Nothing that should concern you, forest boy", he cuts him off.

"Hmh, right." Neteyam nods and Ao’nung can’t help but pray to eywa that this would finally be the end of this uncomfortable conversation. Unfortunately, it is not, as the forest boy then swims a little closer, his voice low as he says, "Well, by the sound of the moans you knock out of her", a look comes over Neteyams face, and it sickens him to realize it was arousal. "I may have to try my hand at her sometime too, just to see what all the fuss is about. Seems like she loves to spread her thighs for just anyone."

Ao’nung balled his fists, and ground his teeth together so hard, he was almost certain he could hear a crack. It took every last ounce of energy not to lunge at him.

Neteyams words whispered over and over and over in his head, a rolling loop that he thought might actually drive him insane.

— ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ —

Never had left him a hunting trip so tense before, Ao’nung realized, sighing as he lowered himself into the water. It was warm and relaxing, soothing his tense muscles and the ache he felt.

He seemed to get like this a lot lately, feeling stressed and tense and trying harder than ever to will himself to sleep, to concentrate and to stop thinking about this. But it was impossible. Ao’nung found his mind going back to the same problem over and over again and he found worry and jealousy rising in the pit of his gut more and more.

It had been some time since his last visit to the hot springs in the center of the island, and at least the waters were soothing on his overworked body. Not to mention the way your hands were gently running over his shoulders, as you positioned yourself to straddle his lap.

The hot spring was large, a natural pool that sat surrounded by smooth stones, leaving the air here steamy and considerably warmer than the rest of the forest. A popular spot to bath for the metkayina, but tonight it was calm and empty.

Long, ropy vines hung low and mingled with purple leafy plants above him. Bountiful beds of marigold, azure, blazing red, and creamy orange blossoms lined the space that the pool inhabited. Small particles of pollen danced in the steam that rose to the sky. Blue-green moss coated the rocks where their surface was wet and slick from the humidity.

You had both stripped out of your clothes, long past being uncomfortable with each other's nudity. Your warm, soft breasts now pressed against his chest, thighs framing his waist and his body finally relaxes as he deeply inhales the swirling aromas of both, the hot spring, filled with oils and herbs, and also your sweet natural scent.

Ao’nung rests his back against a rock that had been weathered smooth, his hands gliding over the soft skin of your back, up and down, as you continue to knead the tight muscles of his shoulders and neck. Through the upper canopy of the trees he could see night draw in and a soft rumble filled his chest as he pulled you closer.

"Still not going to talk to me about what happened today?"

Your playful voice is what makes him pry his eyes open and unfortunately return his mind to the moment and todays memories.

"Nothing happened today, tsawke. I already told you", he grumbles.

"You know I can tell when you’re lying", you push and Ao‘nung wants to roll his eyes, but he misses the strength to do so. Instead, he just buries his face into the crock of neck and makes a sound of annoyance. "And you’re never like this after a hunt. Normally, I can’t even get you to shut up about how you made the biggest catch and how you’re oh so much better than everyone else, how they’re all just a bunch of skxawngs and– ", you begin to mock him, but can’t finish the sentence as a teasing little giggle bursts out of you.

"That does not sound like me at all", he protests, yet can’t hide the lazy grin forming on his lips.

It’s moments like these that Ao’nung values most about your friendship. It feels so intimate and natural, the way you so playfully interact with him. How close you are, physically and mentally. You take care of each other, even if the ways in which you do, go beyond any normal friendship. It just feels so good to be in your presence, it makes him forget about the world around him for a while. Makes him forget why he was even so tense, what exactly had plagued his mind in the first place. There was just you now.

Ao’nung doesn’t even try to wipe the woozy smile from his face as he listens to your soft giggles and the joy it brings you to tease him, to know that you’re the only one allowed to do this and continue unharmed. Oh, how you loved to take advantage of the soft spot he had for you.

Your chest was still pressed firmly against his own, droplets of water running down your collarbone and collecting in a small puddle where your breasts are squished together. You wear your hair up in a bun, a few messy strands sticking to the sweaty skin of neck and forehead and Ao’nung thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes upon.

Between soft laughs as you mimic his cocky way of presenting himself, he catches you off guard as he suddenly presses his lips against yours.

He knows there’s no reason to do this. You’re all alone out here, so there’s no point in trying to make someone jealous that wasn’t even there to witness it. But from time to time, both of you had sought the other out just to get some sort of relief, so this wasn’t really something new to either of you. This agreement had long become more than a means to make Neteyam jealous. Besides, if he had to pick something he would get out of this agreement, it was this. After all, you promised him a favor if he would agree.

Your lips are soft and your tongue tastes warm and sweet as he deepens the kiss, tilting his head and cradling the back of your head to get better access. It doesn’t even take a heartbeat for you to relax into the kiss, exhaling a soft sigh as your arms encircle his neck and pull him closer.

The gentle sway of the water fuses you tighter together, and soon you’re rubbing and grinding against each others wet bodies. His hands are everywhere on you, pushing and pulling and kneading every inch of skin until your cheeks are flushed red and you’re panting against his lips.

"Please", you whisper softly, and he feels your thighs squeeze around his middle. Your hands roam over the muscles of his chest, then down over his abs, between your bodies, until they reach the base of his cock. "Please, can you…"

"Can I what?", Ao’nung breathes against your lips. He plants open mouthed kisses from the corner of your lips to your jaw, down to your throat. "Talk to me, tsawke. Tell me what you want."

"Touch me", you say, and it’s so whiny it almost sounds like a complain. Meanwhile your hands begin to stroke and squeeze up and down the length of his cock. It makes him chuckle as he licks a wet stripe from your collarbone down to your breast, "But I am touching you."

You make a frustrated sort of noise and Ao’nung smiles, softly, fondly, and then he carefully closes his teeth around a nipple and tugs.

"Fu– Fuck, c-come…on", you pant, "You know what I mean! Just— please!"

His tongue traces from your breast back up to your throat, where he buries his face into your skin to inhale more of that natural sweet scent you release. Ao’nung let’s out a deep groan once you stroke him a little faster and it almost makes him forget what he was supposed to do with his own hands.

"Please, Ao’nung", you whine again, but what snaps him out of his aroused trance isn’t your pleading voice. It’s the sound of someone else approaching the hot spring with a low chuckle.

"It’s not nice to make a woman beg like this."

You inhale a sharp gasp, pressing yourself tighter against Ao’nungs chest in an attempt to shield your naked front from any unwanted viewers. His tattooed arms hold you close, encircled around your back and covering your skin as much as possible. With his eyebrows knit together, he glances over the top of your head to see who was stupid enough to interrupt his alone time with you.

"Oh, please don’t stop on my account. I was enjoying the show."

Neteyam. Oh isn’t this just great, Ao’nung thinks to himself, grinding his teeth as he watches toruk maktos eldest step into his direct view.

There’s a sharp grin plastered on his entirely too perfect face. And this man dares to call himself a warrior? There’s not a hint of a scar on his skin, not one tattoo adorning his body that could tell of his victories, his hunts. He might as well be a nobody.

"What are you doing here?" The grip Ao’nung has on you is possessively tight and for a moments he thinks he’s the reason for your breath has stopped.

"Well, what do you think?", Neteyam chuckles and the golden color of his eyes seems to glint in the moonlight as they rake over your exposed back. "I came here to bath, just didn’t know this spot was already… occupied."

It’s a reasonable response. But not even close to a good enough reason for him to stay.

"You can leave then."

Neteyam did not seem to share the same thought.

"Hm, I don’t think I will. Besides, that gives us the chance to continue our nice conversation from earlier, don’t you think?"

Ao’nungs growl rumbles from deep within his chest as he watches him step closer to the hot spring. Briefly, he remembers that he had very clearly warned the brat to stay away from you this morning, even if it was through gritted teeth and words that were generally much nicer than the ones he would’ve preferred to use.

Neteyams hands were already working to untie the knot that held his loincloth together, before he paused for a moment. A quick glance to your face and Ao’nung was met with the sight of your widened eyes, lips slightly parted as you were obviously trying and failing to proceed what was even happening. Neteyam then pauses.

"Unless you…", with a tilt of his head his eyes meet yours, a sly smile pulling at the corner of his lips, "want me to leave?"

Taken aback, your breath hitches in your throat. There’s a look of uncertainty on your face, as if you were struggling to express what you wanted. If you even knew what you wanted, Ao’nung thought. Your eyes then skipped between both men for a moment, a blush spreading over your cheeks so deep, they were almost turning purple now.

Ao’nung feels his chest tighten as you glanced from Neteyam to him, and then back to Neteyam. For a moment he’s scared you would tell him to leave, now that what must’ve been a dream to you finally seemed to come true. But you don’t. You just say nothing.

"That’s what I thought. You don’t mind if I do, right?" A soft rumble filled the man’s chest, almost a purr, as he untied his loincloth and then stepped into the water.

Your breathing had picked up rapidly, Ao’nung realized, feeling the way your chest pushed against his own as you inhaled quick, shallow pants of air. There’s a moment of very uncomfortable silence, made worse only by the tension that filled the air as Neteyam let out a content sigh after making himself comfortable, sitting with his back against a rock, arms sprawled out over the edge of the hot spring like he owned the place.

His abs tense just above the waters surface as he stifles a laugh, and he brushes a loose braid behind his ear while his eyes seem to be glued to yours.

"By the look on her face I assume you haven’t told her about our conversation from this morning?" He asks, his gaze moving for just a split second to look at him. You seem to follow his example and crane your neck up to look at him questioningly, your brows raised high.

Ao’nung can't think about what he's supposed to say now. If he thinks too much about it, he'll end up punching him in the face and it probably won't end there. It’s like Neteyam can read his mind, or maybe he’s just good at reading facial expressions, because he’s quick to give an answer to the confused look on your face before Ao’nung even has the chance to open his mouth.

"Sevin", Neteyam says and Ao’nung wants to vomit, "why don’t you turn and face me, hm? It’s rude not to look at the person that is talking to you, don’t you think?"

Ao’nungs arms tighten around you, so hard it’s like he’s afraid you‘ll float away if he won’t hold you close enough.

But then you whisper a soft, "It’s okay", and uncontrolled jealousy punched right at his gut as you wriggled yourself free.

It’s almost like he had forgotten for a moment that this was kinda part of the deal. That he’s not the one that’s supposed to be jealous. That if he were a good friend, he would’ve gotten up and left ten minutes ago, give the two of you some space, help you achieve the goal you’ve been working so hard for the past year or so.

Usually, Ao’nung could camouflage all and any feelings from anyone very well behind angry glares and scornful smiles. He was an impenetrable wall for those around him. Except for you, of course, who could normally read him like an open book. But now that your attention was entirely directed to someone else, you couldn’t even see the way a flash of hurt and jealousy came over his face for just a heartbeat.

Your hands trembled as he helped maneuver you to sit on his lap, facing Neteyam that sat opposite of you.

"That’s much better, isn’t it?" He grins and you give him a sheepish little nod, blushing even deeper as he purrs a whispered praise. Ao’nungs arms encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him. He feels the soft of your bottom pressed against his crotch, and if it weren’t for the current situation, he would’ve loved nothing more than to slide into you and take you just like this. Unfortunately, the omatikaya sitting right in front him then continues to talk and sets every single nerve inside him on fire with the urge to get up and push his head under the waters surface until he stops mov—

"I meant what I said, by the way." He says and all of those murderous thoughts inside his head come to an halt. "There’s no need to stop doing what you’re doing just because I’m here."

He wants to laugh in the forest boy’s face, but decides to shove it back down and manages to keep his expression impassive.

"On the contrary. I‘m very content with watching." A seductive little wink is send your way and Ao’nungs whole body tenses. Neteyams gaze then lands on him and Ao’nung suddenly knows that he wants him to try something.

Ao’nung has a temper. He‘s always had a temper, everyone knows, and Neteyam is just trying to be provocative, Ao’nung tries to remind himself. But now his temper already flares, bright and white-hot, and he almost doesn't care about a response, doesn’t care about what he could answer to this as long as it hurts, so he bites his tongue hard enough to taste copper.

It’s unfortunate for both of them, that Neteyam can’t seem to shut up, despite the fact that neither him nor you had said anything yet. He‘s confident in every word that leaves his mouth, not even caring about what the two of you would think of him as he goes on, "Oh, right, I almost forgot. Since your dear friend hasn’t told you yet, I guess it’s my duty to enlighten you."

One of his hands curls into a fist and he can't seem to relax it, before he realizes it’s your hip that he’s squeezing. Not hard enough to hurt, but he lingers for a long moment before he can force himself to loosen up. He apologizes with a fleeting kiss to your shoulder, making sure to hold eye contact with the man in front of him, like it’s two Pxazang‘s battling for territory.

"Ao’nung and I had a very nice conversation this morning, and he actually made the proposal to…", his lip curls into a dangerous smile, "share you."

Ao’nungs mind goes blank. He wasn’t prepared for this.

Share you? But he did not…

His mouth opens to object, but all words seem to fail him, his brain struggling to keep up with what was happening, while he simultaneously tried to understand what Neteyam wanted to achieve with this lie.

"If that is something you would want, of course."

There it is again, that act of fake innocence, pretending to be oh, such a good and caring guy. It breaks his heart to see it working so well on you.

You glance up at him with those nantang puppy eyes full of hope and anticipation, "You… You did?"

But there’s silence and Ao’nung just looks at you. He listens once Neteyam opens his mouth again, he has to listen because his throat feels too dry to speak.

"Oh, yeah", he responds for him. A white lie, like everything else he had told you so far. "He told me how good of a friend you are and that this would be something you would truly enjoy. And I know for a fact that you really deserve this."

No. No, you don’t deserve this, don’t deserve him. And sharing you like this was never part of the deal, it wasn’t part of the agreement to take a part in any of this, to watch his filthy hands touch you. Ao’nung was never one to share his possessions– he never talked about his feelings, he just acted, knowing what he wanted and going for it. That was how he did everything; with quick deliberation leading to a fast resolve, quite the opposite of Neteyams tendency to manipulate.

"You’re such a sweet girl, aren’t you? Letting your friend arrange this for you", Neteyam chuckles and Ao’nung realizes just now, how much you’re squirming on his lap. "Why don’t you show me just how sweet your are, hm sevin?"

He’s only playing a role, Ao’nung has to remind himself. As much as he prayed for it to become reality, you weren’t his. He was just your friend. But if being a good friend meant to participate in whatever this was, so be it. At least he could be here for you, take care of you even when you were in another man’s arms.

It was comforting, in a way. Comforting like rays of sun soaking into his skin, so much so, that he‘ll forget what damage they can do if he stays to long under her comfortable shine. He‘ll burn, sooner or later, feel the pain when it’s already too late. But it feels good now, so he tries to stop worrying about everything else.

The feeling of your slick rubbing against his thighs reached a point where it was impossible for him to ignore, even though it hurt to know he wasn’t the main reason for this.

His gaze never leaves its target sitting across from him, not even as he dips his hands below the waters surface and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. The surprised little squeak you emit was kind of cute, he thought, as he lifted you out of the hot spring.

Your soft hands cling to him as Ao’nung makes himself comfortable, sitting down onto the flat rocks that enclose the pool of water, while he holds yourself up and open for Neteyam to see. Your legs are spread as far as they can go, and said omatikaya can be seen swallowing the salvia that pools in his mouth at the sight.

You were a piece of art; gorgeous, pretty and wet, droplets of water running down your curves, mixing with arousal that ran down your thighs. But you were also pretentious, greedy, and entirely spoiled and that was entirely his fault. And he knew how to play that card all too well.

Ao’nung nuzzled his nose against your cheek, up to your ear where he whispered, "You want him? Then show him", before licking the shell of your ear, making you shudder in his hold.

Even he felt the flush of dark embarrassment tickle up your spine, before you wriggled a hand free and lowered it between your spread thighs. A fingertip slid between your folds, teasing your slippery entrance with a quiet whimper.

"Don’t be shy", Ao’nung murmured, nipping on your throat. "C‘mon, tsawke. Be a good girl and put a finger in."

Nodding, you pressed your index finger against your slippery entrance, slowly pushing in to the last knuckle. Then, you wriggle a second finger in beside the first one, and start to ease them out together, then back in; a slow, slick push.

The moans that tumble from your parted lips are like the sweetest most familiar melody to him. To Neteyam, they are the reason one of his hands has disappeared below the surface, casting ripples in the water.

You curve your finger a little more and pick up the pace, thrusting them faster. The squelching sounds they coax out from between your thighs filled his ears, growing louder by the second. It was only overturned by the sound of his own ragged breathing, his heart thumping against his chest in the same rhythm his cock throbbed heavily, yearning for friction, for your hands to touch him, your tight cunt to wrap around his length and swallow him whole.

"Just like that, you’re doing so good", Ao’nung coos softly against the shell of your ear, "Look how much he’s enjoying the show. See what you do to him?" He tips his chin up and your eyes flutter open to get a glance of Neteyam. His ears are pinned back, eyes half lidded, with lips slightly parted and chest heaving as he strokes himself under the water. Ao’nung has to swallow back his own pride in order to play this role, yet he enjoys being the one that can touch you so freely while all Neteyam can do is watch as it happens. "He wants to touch you so bad", he chuckles lowly into your ear and your body decides to respond for you, hips canting forward to push your own fingers in deeper. "I bet he wants to know what you feel like, warm and wet around him. How tight you are. Fuck, if only he knew how good it feels whenever you come around my cock, the way you squeeze me. See his eyes? He’s hungry for you, tsawke. He wants to know how you taste like, too."

A helpless little whimper escapes you from his words and Ao’nung grins, the tip of his fangs sparking with mischief. "Should we make him watch, hm? Or do you want to invite him?"

"Nung", you mewl, plead with your eyes as you glance over your shoulder to meet his.

"I won’t do it for you", he whispers, tilting his head towards the other man with a sigh, "Use your words if you want him."

Your eyes follow his line of sight. Neteyam groans, then closes his eyes for a brief second and throws his head back in bliss, before he looks back at you with a dirty smile.

"What is it, hm?", Neteyam asks, "What do you want, paskalin?"

Your toes curl at the sound of his voice, raspy and laced with a certain type of hunger that could only be satisfied by one thing alone. And that thing is you. Breath hitching, you make a whiny little noise that almost sounds like a plea for the forest boy’s name, but that seems to be all you manage.

"Can’t get the words out, huh?", he chuckles, "That’s okay. Fuck, just look at that pretty pussy, doing all the talking for you. Look how she’s dripping, so eager to be filled, but your hands aren’t enough, are they? You need my help, pretty girl?"

Ao’nungs own fingers itch to help you out, to show him just how perfectly he can fill you with them. That there’s no need for this demons spawn here, that he’s the only one you need to satisfy you.

You seem to think otherwise, because you’re nodding quick and desperate, and Neteyam groans at the sight of your clenching hole once you had pulled your fingers out. A wordless inventions for him to take their place. So Ao’nung continues to hold your legs open wide as Neteyam pushes himself off the rocks and approaches slowly, gracefully walking through the waist deep water to stand before you.

With the way Ao’nung had hoisted you up and held you spread open as he sat on the flat rocks surrounding the hot spring, Neteyam didn’t even had to kneel or crouch to be eye level with what he craved most and the realization made him lick his lips in anticipation.

His hands find the soft of your thighs, caressing your skin before he placed soft kisses here and there, making you shiver in Ao’nungs hold. With his eyes entirely fixed on yours, Neteyam then runs the tip of his tongue through your wet folds and groans at the taste.

"Eywa, woman", he curses under his breath, then attaches his lips to where your slick oozes out in a clear, honey-like stream. "You’re so sweet, paskalin", it’s muffled against your cunt, before he withdraws and glances up at Ao’nung. "Does she always get this wet?"

You let out an impatient whimper and Ao’nung places a soothing kiss to your shoulder.

"For me?", he chuckles, the sound low and dangerous and he feels the goosebumps rise on your body. "Every single time, yes."

Neteyam grins. "Must be my lucky day then. Look how she’s dripping for me."

He takes his sweet time returning to you then, kissing and stroking everywhere but where you need him, but when he finally does, you gasp and moan as he nibbles at your clit, arches when he cups your ass and, with the soft sucking noises he makes, it felt he was drinking you in.

You moaned again, breathlessly, bonelessly, and your back arched away from Ao’nungs chest, or at least you tried to. Feeling so good, so stupidly happy, Neteyam then ran his tongue up and down your slit again and your moans turned into a wail.

He returned to lick and suck at your clit, alternating with a smooth up-and-down stroke with two of his fingers, teasing and circling your clit, then gently prodding them at your entrance.

"Mnnh– Fuck, ah, please, please", you whimpered breathlessly, hips bucking helplessly to get his fingers to slip inside, your head falling fully back against Ao’nungs chest. "Neteyam, p-please!"

But Neteyam only sped up, his tongue wet and rough and steady against your clit, groaning into you at the sound of his name from your lips, and pressing his face against your pussy like you actually taste of nectar or honey or any of those tooth rotting sweet fruit the Sullys enjoyed to eat.

Meanwhile, Ao’nung placed several open mouthed kisses from your throat to your jaw, enough of an hint to make you turn your head and claim your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. It was wet and filthy, just tongues and teeth as he devoured you, as Neteyam devoured your other set of lips.

You were moaning into the kiss, wanton and desperate, before finally, a set of fingers were pushed past your entrance and curled just right, while Neteyam kissed and sucked on your clit so passionately, Ao’nung felt the way your whole body tensed.

And then, then you were coming, bucking, crying out weakly even though it seemed you had no breath left in you. Shuddering and shuddering all through your body, shuddering between two hot bodies who worshipped you, who were holding you, staring at you like prey- beautiful, delicious prey, both of them so very hungry for you.

"Good girl", was murmured lowly into your ear, "Keep coming for us, c’mon let it all out. Let him taste how delicious you are."

Neteyams tongue continued to lap at your flowing arousal, groaning against your folds between filthy slurping noises. "Hmm, fuck. Is that all for me? So good, paskalin, you taste so good."

You kept your eyes closed and let the little tremors and aftershocks go through you, just breathing in tiny happy hums, because, eywa bless them to whatever heaven existed, they were both still touching you, gently and slowly. Neteyam kissing you softly, Ao’nung nuzzling his face into the crock of your neck, sucking on your throat, until eventually your breathing slowed, and you swallowed, opening your eyes.

Immediately, you were met with two golden eyes, looking up at you from between your thighs.

"Neteyam", you pant, "m-more. I want more. Please."

"Oh, do you?", he chuckles as he rises to stand on his full height, towering over you. "You’re such a cute little thing, so needy." He tips your chin up with a finger, then tilts his head as he grins down at you. "Think you can take both of us?"

There’s the sound of an audible gulp and neither Neteyam nor Ao‘nung himself can stifle a chuckle at this. You squirm in his arms for that one, grinding down against his cock that’s been trapped between his stomach and your lower back, making him grunt.

"I‘ll take that as a yes", Neteyam smiles wickedly, exchanging a look with Ao‘nung. He then stepped just a little closer, truly sandwiching you between them both before he hooked an arm under your thigh so Ao’nung could trace his hand down your spine and dip it down lower. Goosebumps run up your neck as his hand kneads one of your ass cheeks and then slides between them. Ao’nung expertly locates your dripping entrance from behind, fingers swirling in your arousal, dipping inside for good measure and he hums lowly at the sound of your weak little moans.

You’re always wet, always wet for him, beautiful and perfect, eywa, the way you just fit, it's like you plug into everything, everything that makes him high, incoherent, hard.

"You want this?", Ao’nung whispers into your ear, his tongue teasing your lobe. You clench around his fingers and give him a quick, desperate nod, so eager to be filled. He grins at that. His fingers retreat, covered in arousal he lets them glide between your cheeks to feel for your puckered hole.

"You want me in here, hm?"

Your whiny whimper of "Yes, please!" is completely satisfying to his ears. Your lack of surprise makes Neteyam realize you’ve done this before, and that mental image is a delicious one. One finger then eases into your tight hole slowly, fluidly. Neteyam watches with hungry, half lidded eyes as Ao’nung spreads you open on one and then two of his thick fingers, watches how expertly you take him in as he spreads your legs a little further to give the other man more space to work with. More slick is running down your pretty cunt, like a silent plea for him to fill it.

It's not long, though, before you’re squirming, the position you’re in making it impossible to push back against his fingers but they both know you’re trying to. It’s also not long until your moans turn louder, back arching, and you make a sound of protest when Ao’nung finally pulls his fingers out and deems you as loose enough. His cock is so painfully hard, leaking more pre-cum than he thought was even possible. He had to get inside you now, had to have you because in the back of his mind there still lingered this thought that after this, it could’ve been the last time he would get to feel you, to hold you, to fuck you, ever again.

So he wraps an arm around you, the other hand securing your thigh, while both of Neteyams hands hold onto the underside of your knees to spread your legs for them.

"Together then", Neteyam grins and Ao’nung can’t help but glare at him over your shoulder. Not even this situation could change anything about the grudge he’s holding against that forest boy.

A quick glance down your front reveals the sight of Neteyam pushing the length of his cock between your slippery folds, lubing himself with your slick.

The tremor that passes through your body seems more intense than usual, once you feel Ao’nung get into position too.

"Breathe, tsawke", he says, the tip of his cock nudging against your backside. You nod, inhale, exhale, and then they both push into you slowly, spreading you apart. Another whimper tumbles from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut and Ao’nung places a tender kiss to your temple as he slides further in.

"Good girl, just relax for me", he coos, "you’re doing so good."

For a moment it's too much, you’re way too tight and he thinks your body just can't reach that far, but then Neteyam seems to be fully inside while he slowly pushes deeper with minimal resistance. Neteyam groans, his grip on your legs tightening as he feels Ao‘nung move into place alongside him. You’re stretching around them both like you were made for this, and then Ao’nung glances at the space between your legs where you’re all joined, and there isn't a slither of space.

"Fuuck, look at that", the forest boy pants, smiling almost proudly. He gives the first languid thrust that makes you mewl. "That feel good, hm? You like being stuffed full of us, don’t you sevin?"

A whiny "Y-Yes", comes as a response, followed by a string of incoherent pleas for them to finally move.

"You sound so pretty when you beg, paskalin", Ao’nung says, granting your wishes with slow thrusts, making you feel every inch of him as he slides himself into you. Better adjusted now, your body welcomes him with every snap of his hips. Neteyam sets up a quicker rhythm, pistoning in and out of your body roughly, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot at just the right angle.

You flex your inner walls, squeezing his cock, until you feel him throb inside you with the change, moaning, and his gaze entirely fixed on where you are joined.

"Eywa, that little pussy is gripping me so tight. No wonder you kept her all to yourself. I wouldn’t share her with anyone, not even if she begged me to."

Their eyes meet for a second and Ao’nung’s breath is hot on your neck as he whispers, "you’re mine, aren’t you? He’s just lucky I can’t deny you any of your filthy wishes." Reaching to cup one of your breasts in his hands, he tweaks a nipple and earns a dirty little moan in response, your soft, velvety-like walls pulsating around their cocks.

"Oh f-fuck, make her do that again!"

Ao’nung was rubbing your nipples more roughly now, and your voice goes hoarse when Neteyam simultaneously thumbs at your throbbing clit. "Yeah, good girl", he praises you, thrusting into you faster, "so good, sevin. Shit, you feel so fucking good around me."

You’re close, Ao’nung can tell by the way you’re writhing, by the way your breath hitches when the tip of Neteyams cock brushes against your cervix, by the way your face twists with ecstasy when he fucks you harder, deeper.

He removes his hand from your nipple and slips it between your bodies, fingertips fighting for their place to rub against that swollen bundle of nerves alongside Neteyams, until your whole body is arching and your jaw drops.

"Nung", you moan like a prayer, "you’re– so big. M‘so full, gonna come!" It’s like you’re trying to finish him just with your words, and fuck, you might manage it if you carry on. His head falls to your shoulder and he presses his lips against your skin, then up your neck until your mouths are crushed together, a desperate thrashing of tongues and lips.

Words were entirely washed out of your system, your mind completely overtaken by the fullness of two cock sliding in and in and then all the way out just to slip back in, harder, tight body gripping and squeezing them.

It was all heat and pleasure. All those sensations, thoughts and emotions. Everything so close, but you just couldn’t reach it. Not yet. You felt like a puppet on a string, waiting for any of them to pull the right thread and help you to your release.

You’re right on the edge, right there.

The moment he breaks the kiss, Neteyam catches your lips in another, his tongue swirling around yours and a bitter part of Ao’nung hopes you still taste like him. If that is the case, Neteyam doesn’t seem to mind. His hips continue to snap hard against yours as he exchanges moans and spit through the kiss. It’s a filthy rhythm the both of them had set, various body fluids smearing between three tangled bodies.

Every time one thrusts in they brush over your pleasure spot, leaving you sobbing and writhing on their cocks, clutching on their arms so hard it hurts, chanting their names in between moans, hardly able to catch your breath.

"Let go, c‘mon I know you need it so bad", Ao’nung groans lowly into your ear, thrusting in just as the other man pulls out, which leaves you in a constant state of fullness, never empty for even a second. "Be a good girl and come for us."

It's a buildup of tension that arches your back and curls your toes and just when you think you can't take it anymore, something snaps. Your entire body tightens as you cry out their names, nails sinking so deep he’d be surprised if they haven’t drawn blood.

"There it is, pretty girl. Great mother, look at you creaming around my cock, gonna make me cum too", Neteyam groans, throwing his head back in bliss. He was thrusting into you so hard now, it knocked the very air out of your lungs, leaving you gasping for breath.

The little breath left in you was then stolen by a deep kiss, Ao’nung sucking on your tongue as he continued to pound into you, unable to think of anything else besides the way your walls tighten around his throbbing cock.

"Gonna cum inside you", he groans into the kiss, "Can’t hold back, I just need to fill you up, gonna fuck my cum into you and— hngh– shit!" He plunges into you, one, two, three more times and then comes with a grunt of your name.

Your legs were already shaking with the aftershocks of your own orgasms, twitching from overstimulation while Neteyam gave one last thrust, hips pausing, and then you felt it flowing— hot shots of cum pumped into you, filling you up nice and warm as he lost himself inside you with a low moan.

Ao‘nung wasn’t entirely sure if you could even hear him at this point, but he still kept the reassurance up anyway as they both gently lowered you back into the hot spring.

"Can't say that was a bad time, fish lips," Neteyam grinned, glancing at your relaxed face resting against Ao’nungs shoulder. Your eyes had fluttered closed a few minutes ago, as the metkayina man was carefully cleaning the sweat and other body fluids from your skin, holding you tight against his chest.

"Don't get used to it." Ao’nung warns in a hushed whisper, "I doubt I'll share her again."

"Wouldn't expect it. Worried I'll steal her away?"

"No. But I keep close tabs on what's mine," he counters, blue eyes cold as he watches the other man rearrange his loincloth.

Neteyams grin widens at this, and he shoots him a playful wink, "We‘ll see about that", before he leaves off to the village.

— ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ —

Ao‘nungs hammock might as well be carved from stone.

He hadn’t been able to get much, if not any sleep at all these past couple of days. Shifting restlessly, he’s forcing his eyes to close once more every time they inevitably drift open, but it’s not working. So he’s staring at the ceiling of his marui, at the woven walls, and out into the dark blue sky. It only makes his frustration worse. Days have gone by and now half the night has already passed, by the time he finally comes to terms with the fact that jealousy truly is an ugly emotion. But it somehow always reveals the truth. And it’s not like he didn’t already know the truth before. No, he knew.

He could joke about it all he wanted, whenever Tsireya made her teasing little comments about it. Could laugh it off and roll his eyes at his younger sister, tell her she’s just imagining things and that this is all just a means to get another man jealous. He’s just being a good friend. He turned these comments into jokes, because he‘s afraid to take anything seriously. Because if he takes things seriously, they matter. But it does matter. It matters so much, that it hurts now. Truth is, Ao’nung held his love for you so horrible discreet, that it was as persistent and almost as silent as bleeding from an unstitched wound. And now he was bleeding out. Painful and slow and irreversible.

Sharing you was a bad idea. Probably the worst he’s ever had, there was no doubt in it.

Ao‘nung tosses and turns in his hammock, unable to rest for any moment longer as his thoughts dared to consume him whole. Willing his body to get up before the sun was even beginning to rise, he found solace in the rhythmic crashing of waves down at the beach.

Ao’nung wishes that he could just have some kind of treatment to fix this problem. If only the tsahìk could cut his chest open and take his heart out to make it stop. Maybe eywa would bless him with a new one, one that wasn’t stained and stabbed and torn apart. Maybe it would take away the sick, knife-twisting pain he felt in his chest whenever he did as much as look at you. But in its own way, it was a good kind of pain. Like a constant reminder of just how much he was in love with you. How good it felt to love you. It was good, except for how it made him feel sick whenever you laced your fingers up together and squeezed his hand as though Ao’nung was something precious, something to be loved, and once again he catches himself wishing that you might ever look at him in the ways that Ao’nung looks at you.

It pisses him off to be reminded that he's supposed to be good at keeping his head, at keeping his distance, at not letting his lies consume him, the way that they're doing now. The way that they've done since this whole thing started. That this is all just a game of play pretend and you’re not really his.

Besides everything else he's doing that's completely unhelpful to this dilemma, Ao’nung’s overlooking one crucial detail: how can he stop pretending, when this is probably the closest he'll ever get to actually being yours, to you being his? How can he stop pretending when he's already made you this stupid, shiny little bracelet, because it would scandalize Neteyam in the entire, to think that Ao’nung and you are so into each other that you’re trading what could be mistaken as a courting gifts. And because it's the closest thing that Ao’nung will ever get to actually giving you a courting gift. He just has to take what little gifts he can from the world, right? So he can’t end it. He can’t end this arrangement. Not yet.

"Become my mate."

A simple statement. A straightforward question with a straightforward answer. But he would never actually ask that, would never receive an answer to this that wouldn’t hurt him, so he might as well continue to live in this perfect world that he lets himself envision.

Ao’nung turns the bracelet in his hands, thumb swiping over the carefully polished pearls. One of them sort of looks like the color of your eyes, as much as a simple blue pearl can emulate the deep ocean blue of yours and the way they sparkle when you look at him. The whole thing doesn't really capture your essence, it just made him think about you, and that's why he picked it out. He would give it to you today, he thought. He knows you would wear it for him, and maybe the thought of you wearing this for him, wearing something that would always mark you as his would make it enough for a little while longer. Maybe one day he would get his ass up and just ask you, would ruin your friendship just for the teeny tiny chance of you not turning his offer down. Maybe you would be his, one day. Truly his.

It’s when the first rays of sun begin to shine over the ocean, that he’s greeted by the sight of his own, personal warm solace. Sometimes that shines brighter and warmer than the sun herself. His ears perk up at the sound of you calling his name, waving your arms at him and a smile tugs on his lips. Always up early, he thinks, rising to his feet.

"It worked!" You squeak happily, jumping into his arms and Ao’nung continues to smile at you, albeit a little confused. You break away from the hug first, jumping excitedly and pointing to a piece of jewelry dangling from your wrist. He stares at it blankly, each breath making his lungs feel like they were filled to the brim with shards of glass.

His palm closed tightly around the bracelet in his own hand, tight enough he could feel the little shells cutting into his palm.

He knew this would eventually happen.

He could feel it in the back of his mind, lingering like a muscle he's held tensed so long that he can no longer remember what it felt like to be otherwise.

What Ao’nung didn't expect was, that it would be this soon. He really thought he still had time. More time. More time with you, before he would loose you to another man. Time to change his fate, time to–

"It worked! Neteyam courted for me, look!"

Ao’nung felt something in him shatter, breaking to the point of no repair. Breaking so violently that he wondered if it was possible for no one to have heard it. He felt it burn his skin, his eyes, the inside of his chest. Felt it burn like the sun burns, like it would burn if he tried to touch it. Ao’nung felt himself melt away and burn, and that’s when he reminds himself of the reason for the nickname he had chosen for you.

Tsawke. Because you are his sun.

And nothing feels as good and hurts as much as loving the sun. Because as well as she can make you feel good, as fast she can burn you.