HOME — neteyam te suli x female!metkayina!reader, ANGST
WARNINGS: angst / kissing / gory descriptions / bullet wounds / attempted cpr / extreme mourning / flashbacks of tsaheylu
AN: i finally did an angst guys!! who's happy i know i am!!! this probably wont get as many notes as normal but honestly angst needs to be more appreciated,,, do yall ever want a story to have an unhappy ending or is that js me??
WC: 3.3k holyyyyy
SUMMARY: when the RDA make their brutal attack, you find yourself holding the boy you loved the most in your arms, unable to handle the agony.
꣑ৎ ｡°‧⭑.ᐟ
The air on the ship was a living thing, thick and suffocating with the stench of burnt wiring, hot metal, and the coppery tang of blood. It was a taste you’d never known on your tongue, a foulness that coated the back of your throat and made you want to gag.
Every sound was an assault—the shriek of twisting steel, the panicked shouts in a harsh, guttural language, and beneath it all, the soul-crushing symphony of the tulkun cries, a sound of agony so pure it vibrated in your very bones.
You were a creature of the open water, of the gentle sway of the coral and the rhythm of the tides, but here you were a shadow in a metal beast, your bare feet making no sound on the grated deck as you slunk through its belly.
Then you saw them, and your heart seized in your chest like a caught fish. Tuk and Kiri.
They weren't just hiding; they were trussed up like a fisher's catch, their small hands bound brutally behind their backs, secured to a rusted metal railing that ran along the bulkhead. Tuk’s face was a blotchy, tear-streaked mess, her entire body trembling with silent, hitching sobs that shook her tiny frame. Kiri, ever the fighter, was trying to be brave, her jaw set, but you could see the terror swimming in her wide, dark eyes, a terror so deep it seemed to swallow the light around them.
Your own fear was a cold, sharp knot in your stomach, but you pushed it down.
There was no time for it.
You were a Metkayina.
The water was your home, but stealth was your second nature. You moved like a whisper, a knife drawn from its sheath, the blade glinting dully in the flickering red lights. In seconds, you were at their side, the serrated edge sawing through the thick cords.
"Go!" you hissed, your Na'vi a harsh, desperate whisper.
"To the water! Now!" But they were too slow, too terrified, their movements clumsy with panic.
That’s when he appeared. A shadow detaching itself from the deeper shadows, moving with an arrogant swagger that was a mockery of the Na'vi form. Quaritch. He wasn't alone; another recom flanked him, their faces hard masks of indifference. Before you could even shove Kiri and Tuk forward, he was on them.
He moved with a brutal speed, one massive hand fisting in Kiri’s hair, yanking her head back so hard a cry of pain was torn from her lips. The other brought a wickedly sharp combat knife to the delicate, fluttering skin of her throat. The steel glinted, a sliver of starlight turned deadly. Tuk shrieked, a high, piercing sound of pure, unadulterated terror that seemed to hang in the air.
A low, defensive hiss escaped your own lips, a sound of pure instinct. For a split second, you were frozen, a deer in the sights of a predator. But then survival took over.
You scrambled backward, your claws scrabbling against the metal grating as you launched yourself towards the narrow gap between two large, humming storage units. You pressed yourself flat into the shadows, the vibrating metal a constant, sickening thrum against your back. You were hidden. Your knife was clenched so tightly in your hand your knuckles were white, and you waited, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs, for the right moment to strike.
Then Jake Sully appeared, rounding the corner not with confusion, but with a fury so potent it was almost a physical force. His face was a mask of fresh, raw agony, his eyes burning with a grief so profound it was terrifying to witness. His gaze swept the area, and for a fleeting second, his eyes met yours from across the deck.
He gave you a subtle, almost imperceptible nod, a silent acknowledgement that you were there, that you were his unseen ace in the hole. You were ready.
"Let her go, you son of a bitch!" Jake roared, his voice raw and splintered with emotion.
Quaritch just laughed, a low, grating sound that was all ego and no humor.
"I don't think so, Jake. See, I'm calling the shots now." He tightened his grip on Kiri, making her whimper as the knife pressed deeper.
"You should turn yourself in... If you don't wanna lose another kid."
You froze.
The words hit you like a physical blow, a punch to the gut that stole all the air from your lungs.
Another kid.
The phrase echoed in the sudden, deafening silence of your mind. Not a kid. Another kid. Your blood ran cold. Your eyes, wide with horror, locked onto Jake's, and you saw it there. The confirmation. The fresh, soul-destroying pain. He knew you and Neteyam were inseparable, that your souls had been tangled together from the moment the Sullys had arrived one year ago. He saw the dawning comprehension on your face, the way your world was crumbling, and he made a choice. He broke eye contact, turning his full, devastating focus back to Quaritch, shielding himself from your broken gaze for a moment.
But it was a moment too long.
Instinct, primal and absolute, took over. There was no plan. There was no thought. There was only a single, burning imperative: get to him. You burst from the shadows, not with a warrior's cry, but with a gasp of pure, animal panic. You didn't look back. You saw only the blue, churning water that was your only escape. You launched yourself into it, a desperate prayer to the ocean you called home.
The icy shock of the water was a slap to the face, but it did nothing to clear the fog of horror in your mind. You broke the surface, sputtering, and screamed his name into the chaos.
"NETEYAM!" The sound was torn from your lungs, raw and ragged. You didn't wait for a response.
You breathed in, sinking under the water, the specific, throaty call you and had perfected, a summons meant only for your ilu. For a terrifying second, there was nothing. Just debris and death. Then, a sleek, dark shape cut through the water towards you, her large, intelligent eyes fixed on yours. It was Pey'amoe, your partner, your other half in the water.
You didn't bother with the saddle. You just grabbed a hold of her dorsal fin, hauling yourself onto her back as you formed tsaheylu and she surged forward. The ocean was a graveyard of metal around you. You urged Pey'amoe faster, weaving through splintered planks and floating bodies, your eyes scanning the rocks, the shore, anywhere. A million thoughts ran through your mind, a chaotic, terrifying storm. He's okay. He's just hurt. I can fix him. I'll find him and I'll fix him. He's strong. He's a warrior. He's okay.
You urged your ilu upwards through the bond, eyes focusing on breaking the surface tension from the depths you were in.
Pay'amoe understood. She gathered her powerful muscles and launched herself from the water, leaping into the air in a magnificent, desperate arc. For a single, heart-stopping moment, you were airborne. And you saw them.
On a nearby rock, slick with sea spray and blood. Lo'ak, his face a contortion of grief. Tsireya, weeping, her hands pressed to her mouth. And between them... a body. A long, still form covered in the bright, beautiful colors of the Omatikaya.
And you knew.
A sound was ripped from your throat, a sound so inhuman, so full of pain that it didn't even seem to come from you. It was a blood-curdling scream of pure soul-shattering agony. Pay'amoe crashed back into the water, but you barely felt the impact. You surfaced, gasping, and immediately urged forward, your kuru pulsing with a desperation you hadn't known you had.
You didn't speak. You poured every ounce of your desperation, your panic, your pleading into the bond.
Pay'amoe responded as if your pain were her own, rocketing through the water towards the rock. Before she had even slowed, you were moving. You dove off her back, the water a meaningless obstacle. You clawed your way onto the rock, your knees and palms scraping against the rough, unforgiving stone.
You saw Lo'ak and Tsireya huddled over him, but they were in your way. They were obstacles. "Move!" you snarled, a feral, guttural sound, shoving them aside without a second thought. They stumbled back, their faces stricken with shock at your ferocity.
And then you were there. You were next to him.
His eyes were open.
They were the beautiful, warm, honey-gold eyes you had spent countless afternoons just gazing into, the eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the eyes that held a galaxy of stars when he spoke of Eywa. But now... they were empty. The light was gone. The galaxy had vanished. They were just beautiful, empty amber orbs, staring up at a sky he could no longer see.
"No," you whimpered, the sound pathetic and small.
You reached out a trembling hand, your fingers hovering just above his cheek, afraid to touch him, afraid that this illusion would shatter.
"Neteyam. No, no, no, ma'Neteyam."
Your fingers finally made contact, and the reality of it was a physical blow. His skin was already cooling, the vibrant warmth that always seemed to radiate from him, that warmth you had curled into just last night, was fading. It was wrong. It was all so horribly, fundamentally wrong.
"Hey," you choked out, your voice cracking.
"Hey, wake up. You're not allowed to do this. You hear me? You're not allowed." You grabbed his shoulder, your grip desperate, and shook him.
It was a feeble, pathetic gesture. His head lolled to the side, completely limp, a puppet with its strings cut. The sight sent a fresh wave of nausea through you.
"Neteyam, get up! Get UP!" The words were a command, a plea, a prayer, but they were met with only the lapping of the waves against the rock and the quiet, broken sobs of Lo'ak behind you.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Lo'ak take a half-step forward, his own face a mask of devastation. He didn't know what to say. How could he? He watched his brother die, now watching his lover weep, laying in the arms of the Metkayina girl he had loved.
Tsireya put a gentle hand on his arm, her face pale and stricken, her eyes wide with a mixture of pity and horror as she watched you. She understood the depth of your bond. She had seen it grow.
You ignored them. They were background noise, irrelevant. You were in a universe of two, and one of you was gone.
Your eyes darted down to his chest, to the dark, vicious hole marring the perfect pattern of his skin. Blood. So much blood. It had soaked his chest, turning the vibrant blue into a gruesome, blackish-purple mess. It was still seeping, sluggishly, staining the rock beneath him.
"No, no, no, we can fix this," you babbled, your hands flying to the wound.
You pressed your palms against it, a stupid, useless attempt to stop the bleeding, to put everything back inside.
"Just... just hold on. I'll fix it. I'll fix it, I swear." But your hands just came away slick and warm with his life, and the pressure did nothing.
He was gone. The blood was just a memory of what had been.
A sob tore from you, so violent it felt like it was cracking your ribs. You collapsed forward, your forehead pressing against his still chest. You could feel nothing. No heartbeat. No rise and fall of breath. Just the cold, unmoving shell of the person who was your entire world. You were dying. You were dying right here on this rock with him, your own heart shattering into a million pieces, each one a shard of glass lodging in your lungs, making it impossible to breathe.
And then the memory hit you, not as a cruel blow, but as a beautiful, agonizing poison.
Last night. The eclipse sky, a canopy of velvet and shimmering jewels. The secluded beach, yours and his, where the sand was soft and the waves whispered secrets to the shore. You were lying next to each other, your bodies close but not touching, the air electric with everything unspoken between you.
He had propped himself up on an elbow, his honey-gold eyes, so full of life, so full of light, tracing the lines of your face.
"I was afraid of this place when we first came," he'd said, his voice a low, intimate rumble.
"I thought I'd never belong. That I'd always be the outsider looking in at the real people of Pandora." His thumb had gently stroked your cheekbone.
"But then I saw you. And I realized I wasn't looking in at all. I was just waiting. Waiting for you to show me where my home was."
Your breath had hitched, your heart swelling so painfully in your chest it was a wonder it didn't burst. You stared deep into his eyes, grabbing his opposite hand and holding it close to your chest, speaking softly,
"You are home."
He had leaned in then, and his kiss was soft, a question and an answer all at once. It was the taste of salt and him, a promise of forever. The kiss deepened, his hands tangling in your hair, his touch both reverent and desperate. You felt it too, the pull, the need to be closer than skin would allow. Your own hands roamed his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart.
Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible current, both of your hands began to drift downward, towards the kuru's resting at your shoulders. Your breath was shaky, a shaky, breathless laugh escaping your lips—a sound of pure, unadulterated joy and nerves. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours, an unspoken 'is this okay?' painting his features with a beautiful vulnerability. You didn't need words. You just nodded, a single, decisive movement.
You formed the tsaheylu.
The world exploded. It wasn't just seeing through his eyes; it was being him. You felt his love for you, a vast, overwhelming ocean of warmth and devotion. You felt his fears, his hopes, the weight of his responsibilities, and how you, you, were the one thing that made it all bearable.
And he felt you, too. He felt your love for the water, for your family, your quiet strength, and the way your soul had reached for his from the very first moment you saw him. You were two separate hearts, and in that instant, you became one single, pulsing rhythm. Mated for life.
The memory was so vivid, so real, you could still feel the phantom sensation of his consciousness merging with yours. And that made the reality of the cold, still body beneath your hands a thousand times more horrific.
You were mated for life. It was beautiful.
But, it was just a memory.
"No, no, no," you moaned, lifting your head from his chest. Your hands were shaking so badly you could barely control them. You grabbed his face, your thumbs stroking his cold cheeks, smearing them with your tears and his blood.
"Please, Neteyam, please. We just... we just..." The words caught in your throat, a strangled gasp. "You promised. You promised me forever. You promised!"
Lo'ak flinched as your keening intensified, a sound of pure, unadulterated self-loathing. He looked at Tsireya, his eyes pleading, as if to ask what do we do? But she just shook her head, tears streaming down her own face. There was nothing to do. Nothing to say. They were witnessing a grief so profound it was its own form of violence.
"Please," you begged, your voice a broken, desperate whisper.
You leaned down and pressed your lips against his. It was not a kiss of desire, but of resuscitation. You poured your own breath into him, your own life, your own soul, trying to jumpstart his, to force the air back into his lungs, to will his heart to beat again.
"Breathe," you sobbed against his mouth. "Breathe, ma'Neteyam. Breathe!"
Tsireya made a small, choked sound, turning her face into Lo'ak's shoulder, unable to watch the morbid sight of her friend's body and your desperate love. Lo'ak just stood there, frozen, his own tears falling freely as he watched you try to breathe life back into the brother he had failed to save.
He could see the frantic, almost feral way your hands roamed over Neteyam's chest, your fingers clutching at his loincloth, his arms, his neck, anywhere you could find purchase, as if you could physically anchor his spirit to this world. You were a wild creature, cornered by grief, and your pain was a terrifying, palpable thing.
But nothing happened. His lips were soft and pliant and utterly lifeless beneath yours. He was just a body. A beautiful, perfect, empty body.
You pulled back, a raw, animalistic wail tearing from your throat. It was a sound that seemed to rip the very air in two, a sound of a world ending. You collapsed onto him, your hands clutching at his torso, at his arms, at his face, your body wracked with convulsive sobs.
And then the world moved in slow motion.
Lo'ak and Tsireya were on you, their hands like gentle, insistent claws on your arms. Their voices were muffled, as if you were deep underwater, their words indistinct shapes of sorrow. "Come on," Lo'ak was pleading, his own face slick with tears. "We have to go. We have to... we have to let him go."
Go? The word was absurd. You couldn't go. You had just gotten here. You had just found him.
You didn't fight them. There was no fight left in you. You simply went limp, a dead weight in their arms, your body refusing to obey any command but the one to stay. You shook your head, a slow, repetitive motion of denial. "No," you whimpered, the sound barely a whisper. "Please, no. I can't. I can't leave him."
Tsireya wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling with a surprising strength born of her own grief. For a moment, they succeeded, dragging you a few feet away from his still form.
But the separation was a physical agony, a fresh wound being torn open. You didn't thrash or scream. You just crumpled, your legs giving out from under you as a raw, broken sob ripped from your chest. You scrambled back to him on your hands and knees, a desperate, pathetic crawl, collapsing over his body like a shield, as if you could protect him from the very concept of being left behind.
You pressed your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, trying to find his scent beneath the coppery tang of blood. It was fading. Everything was fading. "I'm sorry," you whispered against his cooling skin, the words a sacred vow. "I'm sorry I wasn't faster. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry." It was your last goodbye, a secret shared only with the dead.
They came for you again, more firmly this time. Lo'ak gently took your legs, Tsireya your arms, and together they lifted you, your body a ragdoll in their grasp. You didn't fight anymore. You let them drag you across the rock, your eyes locked on his face, on those beautiful, empty eyes, until the ilu blocked your view. They settled you in front of Tsireya on her mount, holding you between them as the animal slipped back into the water.
You didn't cry anymore. You didn't scream. You were hollowed out. They had taken your heart and left a cavernous, echoing void where it used to be.
