⟡ neteyam won’t let anyone have an attitude with you. he DOES NOT tolerate a single second of disrespect toward his mate.
☼ fem! na’vi reader, sfw, some vague threats from neteyam to the one disrespecting you, protective neteyam, lots of fluff. neteyam is a sweet boy.
⟡ yes, i did pull inspiration from the way of water when neteyam stands toe to toe with aounung, what about it?
⟡ and i know it’s not “canon compliant” for reader to be tsahik in training and mated to neteyam whose going to be olo’eyktan, but idgaf. it’s my fic, none of this is canon anyways considering the ending of the way of water so… *shrugs*
⟡ m.list
A sharp gasp comes from below, the wounded Na’vi flinching from your gentle hand. “Ow! Watch it,” he hisses, turning his head to snarl at you.
Your ears twitch in irritation, yet you give him an apologetic smile nevertheless. “Of course, Teylan. I am only trying to heal you. I will be more careful.”
He faces forward, mumbling something under his breath. You dip your fingers into medicinal paste made of yalna bark, steadying your hand as you smear it along another cut on Teylan’s back. It’s near his shoulder, not too deep or long, and you hold your breath.
Sighing softly in relief, the tension unfurls from your spine when he makes no move to resist.
The healing chamber inside the Hometree provides enough privacy, but you can hear other Omatikaya bustling about through the curtain of hanging vines.
“Teylan,” you say carefully. “The wound I’m about to treat has cut you deep, it will be quite painful no matter how delicate I am.” You gather more paste on your fingers.
“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child,” he bites. “I am able to withstand the pain. Get on with it.”
You are a child, you think irritably. Which rings true, because he is still very young. Younger than you, at least. Your tail flicks in jerky movements as you press your lips together and gingerly place your fingers to the top of the cut, dragging the paste further down.
Teylan’s tail thrashes wildly, flinging the bowl of paste across the room. He leaps to his feet and whirls around, lip curled. “I told you to be careful! What kind of tsahik in training are you?”
You rise to your feet slowly, hands held up in defense. “Mawey, Teylan. I already told you it would be painful. You do not want to do this.”
He steps closer, ignoring your subtle hint. “You don’t deserve—,”
Suddenly there’s a hand on his arm, cutting him short and wrenching him from your space, shoving him several feet backwards. Teylan trips and stumbles, eyes wide.
“That’s enough,” Neteyam warns through his teeth. “Back off. Now.” He stands tall in front of you like a shield, looking every inch like the warrior he is. You edge closer, peeking out from behind Neteyam’s arm with a smug smile. Your mates tail winds protectively around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
No doubt you could handle this yourself. Neteyam is just so attractive when he’s like this.
Teylan stares, fists clenched at his sides, ears pinned to his skull. “Why should I?” He taunts, looking like he wants to spew more insults. He wisely keeps his mouth shut.
“If you say another word, I will slice your tongue from your skull.” Neteyam stalks forward, dragging you behind him. He lowers his voice, threatening as he says, “Never disrespect my mate again—,” he jabs Teylan in the chest, who instinctively steps back. “You will find yourself thrown from atop an ikran mid flight if you do.”
Teylan’s ears droop. The angry expression he’s trying to maintain splinters, exposing the fear below. He sniffs. Then he nods.
“Get out of my sight, child.”
Teylan bolts through the vines, disappearing within the second. Neteyam’s posture relaxes, tail uncurling from your waist.
“Ma Neteyam,” you say, fond and amused, trailing your fingers down his bicep. “You know I am capable of handling my own problems.”
Neteyam’s ears perk as he spins to face you. Slender fingers and calloused palms cradle your cheeks as if he’s holding something delicate. “Ma sevin,” he pleads. “Understand my position.” You raise your hands, circling your fingers around his wrists. “If you overheard someone disrespecting me, would you not step in? Would it not boil your blood?”
“I would do the same,” you agree with a grin. You bump your foreheads together. “But you are in trouble, ma Neteyam.”
He lets out a wounded little noise, dropping his hands as he straightens. “I am in trouble?” He asks incredulously. “I am a mighty warrior, I cannot be in trouble.”
“Well this mighty warrior is in trouble,” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest. “The future Olo’eyktan cannot threaten young warriors—,” You raise an eyebrow. “Especially not ones who will be under his command.”
“I was defending your honor,” Neteyam says with a pout, tail flicking back and forth.
You wave him off. “Yes, yes, I am aware ma Neteyam.”
You start to clean the paste that’s spattered everywhere, expecting Neteyam to follow, but when you glance over your shoulder he’s sulking in the corner. You roll your eyes, biting back a smile, and spin to face him once more.
“Come here, mighty warrior,” you beckon, curling a finger his way.
Neteyam lights up, saddling up close to you. You tug on one of his braids until he dips down, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead. He hums low in his chest, smiling.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
SUMMARY, Neteyam HATES being called bro — after all, does a bro do the things he does to you?
╰┈➤ WARNINGS, kinda established relationship/lots of touching/kissing/suggestive/Neteyam being very possessive over reader😫/bit of fluff
❥ requested by an anon, hope you like it doll <𝟑
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ───
You’ve been hanging out with Spider and Lo’ak a lot recently, and I mean alott — so much so that you had started to pick up on their vocabulary and that included some of the sky people slang that they used.
The relationship you had with the two boys was interesting because you would have never spoken to them in the first place if it hadn’t been for your kinda boyfriend, Neteyam, one day suggesting that you should spend the day with his brother and his friend to keep yourself from dying of boredom while he fulfilled his future olo’eyktan duties.
Ever since that day, speaking to them became a part of your daily routine — Neteyam who would normally get very jealous, didn’t seem to mind your close friendship though. In fact, he liked that his future mate got along well with the other people he cared about.
As of now your trio was sat messing around in the lab, occasionally helping out from time to time. You only wished that Neteyam had more time for you guys — you missed his company dearly despite seeing him merely a few hours ago.
During the hangout you couldn’t help but notice that almost every conversation between Lo’ak and Spider consisted of foreign words that they called “slang”. It was always “cuz” this and “bro” that. It started to get to the point that you began to feel a bit left out because you had no idea what any of these words meant — so you decided to ask them to teach you a bit of their strange vocabulary.
“Bro?” You repeated with a frown, looking at spider for reassurance that you were pronouncing it correctly.
“Yes, bro, it’s short for brother but you can say it to everyone, see bro?” Lo’ak explained, now pointing at Norm who had been eavesdropping on your conversation for the past half an hour — using him as an example to prove that the term could refer to whoever you wished.
“Wait so technically anyone is my bro?”
You were trying your best to grasp the concept of this but none of it made any sense. All this alien terminology was so unusual to you.
Lo’ak and Spider and their slang man, you thought to yourself.
Oh man — another phrase that the boys taught you a while back, this one was even stranger because “man” was the word for a male but was also often used in a sentence whenever someone wanted to express their dissatisfaction for something. When you first heard this, you laughed — who knew the sky people could actually be funny when they weren’t busy trying to colonise your planet.
“Yes, anyone can be your bro.” Lo’ak rolled his eyes at you, speaking extra slowly as if he was explaining to a baby. He had stopped himself from calling you a skxawng many times now because even though you were one of his closest friends, you were still Neteyam’s girl and the mighty warrior was a quite overprotective when it came to you.
Fuck that, he was certain that his brother would kill him in his sleep if you did as much as flutter your eyelashes at him and ask him to politely.
Although you and Neteyam had never properly established your relationship, everyone in the clan knew you belonged to him and that the two of you were bound to become mates sooner or later, actually you pretty sure that many people thought you were bonded already.
It may of had something to do with the fact that you could always be spotted clinging onto him — and if you weren’t, his body would end up finding a way to touch yours, whether it was holding your hand or grabbing onto your waist whenever he saw a man look in your direction.
Before he became busy with his duties, you would spend almost every day together — it was never one without the other. Even though now the two of you didn’t have as many opportunities to see each other, it was like nothing had changed because of how strong your bond was.
Neytiri actually happened to be very fond of you and Neteyam as a pair because she knew of how rare it was for a future leader to find a true love match — she herself was once promised to someone she did not love. When Neteyam was younger, Neytiri would pray that her first born son would be blessed by the great mother to find someone that would see him beyond his title and the second you stepped into the Sully’s lives, she knew that her prayers had been heard.
“Alright so now that we’ve taught her how to say bro, we may as well teach her ‘cuz’. ”
This time it was the blonde with the dreadlocks speaking — you silently hoped that he’d be a better teacher than Lo’ak because that boy seemed to lose his temper every time you made a mistake.
── .✦
If you had known that it would take them till the evening to go through all the weird sky people vocabulary, you wouldn’t have asked them to explain it to you in the first place. Not that you didn’t appreciate their effort — it was just that it really started to itch your brain after twenty minutes.
Thank Eywa you were finally free — you, Spider and Lo’ak made the decision to part ways about an hour ago and even more luckily for you, Neteyam should be starting to head back from training as by now it would usually finish. You couldn’t wait to see him and even more so — impress him with your new terminology.
As you waitied for him to magically appear, you walked around the village, softly humming to yourself. You must have been deep in your thoughts because of how loudly you shrieked when you felt a hand on your shoulder.
Spinning around, your frightened expression turned into one of relief when you saw the man you had been missing alll day!!
A wide smile broke across your face as you practically threw yourself at him “Neteyam!—”
He let out a surprised laugh, catching you easily, his arms wrapping around you in a strong, familiar embrace.
“Someone missed me” he chuckled — burying his face in your neck as one of his hands stroked your long braided hair, twirling a small piece of it around his finger. This type of behaviour was very common for you and Neteyam but this still didn’t stop Kiri from shouting at the two of you to ‘get a room’ every time she encountered you like this.
You relaxed into the hug without thinking, leaning into his muscular toned chest as you continued smiling to yourself like a little girl who just saw her crush wave at her for the first time.
“Bro, I missed you.”
At hearing your words Neteyam’s whole body instantly stiffened. His arms loosened around your waist as he gently took steps back — his amber eyes searching your face to see if you had any idea what you had just called him.
“Bro?”
The sharpness in his voice was like a dagger, although what he said sounded like a question, you knew better to answer it. What have you done wrong? Lo’ak did say that anyone could be your bro and surely that also included Neteyam, right?
“I’m not your bro, tanhi.”
You opened your mouth slightly to speak, but the frightening look in his eyes made you close it again. As a chill crept down your spine — you looked away from the mighty warrior, afraid to hold his gaze. Neteyam rarely ever got mad at you, your arguments were always over the silliest of stuff and so his reaction scared you.
You were also insanely confused.
“Tell me yawne, do you let all your bros touch you like this?”
With every word, he took one step forward, right until his lips were only centimetres away from yours and you could feel his warm breath down your neck. His hands sneaked back onto your waist but don’t stop there — they started to explore your whole body.
You were too stunned at his bold movements to respond. This was not like Neteyam whose touch was always gentle — no, this time it felt possessive.
“Answer me.”
“N—No Nete only you.”
Your words came out in a stutter, your once confident tone gone.
“Good girl, that’s what I thought.” He murmured while his greedy hands travelled further down your body, now settling on your lower back which made your ears perk up. “Tayem what are you—”
“Quiet doll.”
His voice was stern and commanding, as if daring you to go against what he said. He took your silence as a sign of obedience and began placing kisses on your cheek before moving down to your neck, trying to find your most sensitive spot — sucking on it when he finally found it. You gasped as your back slightly arched, the way he was kissing your skin and touching you was driving you crazy. He has never done this before.
“Mhm” you moaned as the muscular na’vi’s hands left your backside and worked their way up to your chest — once reaching your sensitive breasts that were covered with his beads, he gave them a small squeeze, “o—ow!”
This was definitely not the Nete you knew.
After tending to every part of your upper body, he finally smashed his lips onto yours. The mighty warrior kissed you with a fierce, claiming intensity as if you he couldn’t hold back his desires for a second longer. The kiss was deep and consuming, filled with every emotion that he’s ever felt for you.
“Am I still your bro, yawne?” he murmured against your lips, never pulling away.
If you’d known all it would take was calling him ‘bro’ you would’ve done this ages ago.
“No Nete, I-It was Lo’ak and Spider who taught me it” you answered him, now breaking the kiss because of how out of breath you were, a thin string of saliva connecting the two of you for a moment.
His eyes immediately darkened at your words, “those skxawangs did what?”
His voice was low, almost a growl as he fixed his gaze on you. Oh, now he was angry.
“No, no it’s fine, it’s just they told me that I could use it on anyone so I just assumed—”
You rambled, attempting to pull him back by his muscular arm as he tried to make his way to his kelku (home) where knew the two idiots would be.
Even at a young age, Neteyam had always taken his role a little too seriously, down to deciding you had to be the princess he absolutely must protect. But then the Sullys disappeared into the far seas, and the childhood promises soon felt like a lifetime ago. Years later, he’s back from the reefs, and you're determined to act like he's a stranger.
Basically: childhood friends to strangers to "oh no he’s hot and i fucking hope he remembers me."
content warning. Childhood Friends to Strangers to Lovers™
a/n. obsessed w the idea of neteyam calling us princess, so this was born. honestly this ficlet feels more like a brain dump of the whole idea instead of a complete, full-fledged fic. sfw, slight angst but mostly fluff! <3
Childhood with Neteyam and Lo’ak was a symphony of trees, dirt and laughter. A seemingly endless cycle that included a lot of time playing warriors rather than house. You never really minded the boys’ rougher games, until one day Neteyam declared himself the Olo’eyktan. Lo’ak, excited, shouted with glee that he’ll be a brave warrior like dad, too! But when you tried to pipe up and claim your place as a hunter or a warrior (or whatever popped into your head at the moment) Neteyam shut you down.
"You are the princess!" He corrected you firmly, shaking his head disapprovingly at your protests.
Confused and with a bruised pride, you refused to back down and yield that easily. He never told you what you could and couldn't do before and you couldn’t let him start now. "But we've always been on the same team!" You demanded. "Why do I have to be the princess?"
"Because," he said simply, looking at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like you should've known already, "I have to save you. I am the one who must protect you."
The memory blurred at the edges over time as the seasons bled into years, but you never quite forgot the look on his face in that moment. Sometimes it would float into your mind for seemingly no reason, like a ghost that haunted your peaceful hours.
The brave warriors rescuing you from the sky people (Kiri, who rolled her eyes at to having to play the enemy every time), Neteyam accidentally stealing your first kiss (that’s a whole other story to tell, isn’t it?) , Neteyam telling you that you'll mate with him and be his wife.
Silly childhood things. Silly, golden dreams that belong only to children.
You doubt he even remembered and you certainly weren't going to mention it to him, not with the way you started to drift apart you as you got older.
You were no longer his princess. You were only a part of the landscape he was meant to guard.
Then, the world shifted. Jake and Neytiri and all of their kids had to leave High Camp for the clan’s safety, disappearing into the mist to seek residence with the Reef people for the sake of the clan because the Sky People were closing in. Communication was practically non-existent. You stayed behind, blooming into a lethal hunter of the forest, while they became strangers of the sea.
And then a brief, flickering moment.
There had been once, a while back, when Jake, Neytiri, and the others returned, physically injured and exhausted after narrowly surviving a brutal encounter with the Mangkwan raiders. Neteyam had been absent then; he remained at the reef, alive but too heavily injured for the journey, something about a healing bullet wound that was too deep for travel. Kept under his parents' and the Metkayina’s Tsahik’s strict orders to recover. Those days, brighter than your regular days since the Sullys had been gone, were spent listening intently to Lo'ak's and Tuk’s frantic stories of their survival.
Now, four long years have passed since that first departure, and the Sullys have finally returned to stay for good.
The celebration at High Camp is deafening. The forest and the stones shake with the fervor of the Omatikaya welcoming their former Olo’eyktan home. You stand at the edge of the clearing, fingers nervously tracing the intricate beadwork of your songcord.
It seems every single one of the Omatikaya was present at the gathering. This is the biggest gathering since Tarsem’s ceremony as the Olo’eyktan that Jake appointed in his stead.
You're dressed in traditional woven attire, just like you are supposed to. Everyone is in high spirits and you were enjoying yourself quite a bit, catching up with those you'd been missing, eating, drinking, and dancing. Kiri and Tuk find you first, the baby of the family tackling you in a mess of limbs and laughter. Lo’ak follows, taller now, though the same rebellious fire in his eyes and attitude remains.
You only catch glimpses of him a little throughout the night, but he hasn't even said hello, not that you've been expecting him to. Honestly, you are gracefully disappointed, but it’s a quiet ache you have long since learned to live with. You have braced yourself for this treatment from him. Whatever childhood bond you once shared has surely been washed away, dwindled into nothing across the vast oceans.
You don’t think about him anymore these days… for the most part. You have accepted that you would never get close to him again anyway.
As the night winds down and the music slows, you say your goodbyes to the others. Slipping away, you step backwards to leave. You’ve barely made it to the edge of the village, seeking the quiet ferns to process the overwhelming reality of their return, when you feel a large hand circles your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.
The grin on his face is boyish when you turn around to look at him— it’s an expression that is foreign on a painfully familiar face. You try your hardest to only focus on the pressure of his thumb against your flesh rather than how entrancing his eyes are. Or how tall he has grown. Or how much bigger and broader he is now, compared to the image you have been cherishing in your mind: of him, before he left all those years ago.
He is a giant compared to the boy in your memories.
“The party is still loud, yet you are sneaking away.” It is the first time you have heard his voice in four years. The world finally stops.
“Do you have somewhere else to be, princess?"
a/n. if time permits, if life does not get in the way, if i do get around to writing a complete oneshot of this...?? we'll fuck play around and see! i write either pure filth or prose-filled fluff,,,, i cannot for the life of me write in between even though i’d rlly rlly love to write plot-driven pieces c’;
guys i do not have a taglist, never had one to begin with. it’s kinda awkward to tag people without explicit consent from them HAHA. send me something in my askbox if yall actually wna be in one so i can list 🤍
Summary: In which you and Neteyam are courting, but Tuk seems to take up more and more of your attention despite knowing that her brother was soon to be your mate.
a/n: I was inspired by someone on here, but I forgot their tag 😓
You and Neteyam have been stuck to each other for as long as you can remember. From the moment the two of you could crawl to meeting his youngest siblings to completing the Iknimaya together—everyone could see the pathway Eywa set for the both of you. So it was no surprise that Neteyam began to officially court you the second you both became of age.
Ever since then, you were even more inseparable. Well, maybe expect for your duties as tsakarem since it was clear that you would follow after his grandmother and mother. And whenever Tuk showed up, in a way you found rather cute, really.
As much as Neteyam loved you and you loved Neteyam, Tuk was a really close second to being your love. No matter what you were doing, if she could see you, she would immediately drop everything to be by your side and talk your ear off, typically earning a scolding from Neytiri.
To you, it was the most endearing thing ever. You were glad you were getting along with the youngest Sully, never having a little sister yourself. Most times, Tuk would refer to you as her best friend and bragged to everyone she could that she was your favorite—even when you and Neteyam were very clearly together.
Nevertheless, Neteyam—being the most patient Na’vi on Pandora—didn’t mind Tuk’s constant love for you most of the time . He knew how much his little sister admired you and everything you did, and who was he to tell her to back off and find a new friend?
Unfortunately, the other times where his patience wore thin were when his duties to train to be an Olo'eyktan with his father got to his head and all he wanted to do was be in your presence as it often calmed him—not you and his little sister.
It just so happened that today was one of those days.
Neteyam found you wandering the village with a woven basket to your hip, knowing your path was distinct in your head when your ears flickered in a specific pattern. He had just gotten back from a flight with his father and desperately wanted to see you, tail swishing behind him happily when you caught his gaze.
“Where are you off to?” He wrapped an arm around your waist loosely, kissing the side of your head while you grinned up at him with the smile that could melt him anytime.
“Teyam.” You say softly in recognition, letting yourself soften from his simple touch, your own tail swaying in giddiness. “I’m on my way to visit your family since I dropped some herbs off to your grandmother earlier, and I feel like I haven’t seen them in years.”
He scrunched his nose in amusement from your words and tilted his head, taking the basket gently to carry it for you. “You saw them this morning.”
“Same thing.” You wave him off with a flick of your hand and enter his home, smile widening when you see the youngest Sully daughter sitting with her sister that was attempting to teach her how to bead together a top—the older girl sighing when she saw you.
“Tuktuk!” You called out for the young girl, bending and holding your arms open for her to run into.
She called your name out in response, jumping into your arms as you caught her, spinning her around and around until she squealed for you to stop. You kiss her cheek and tuck her hair back, complimenting a new bead in her hair when you heard Neteyam clear his throat beside you—your eyes flickering to him in mild confusion.
“I don’t get that as much enthusiasm when you see me?” Neteyam frowned in a way you assumed was a teasing manner, making you pat his cheek.
“Hush.” You laugh softly before turning back to Tuk, her eyes shining with joy as she gained your attention once more, her tail whipping furiously behind her. “I missed you so so much, sweet girl!”
“I missed you too!” She giggled and looked away for a second, contemplating her next few words while you acknowledged the rest of her siblings.
Lo’ak rolled his at Tuk, giving you a faint smile but immediately began to complain about what his sister was going on and on about the entire day. “She kept whining about when we would see you again. She was all like, “When’s she coming over again?” “Can we visit grandma so we can see her?” and “Tell Neteyam to mate with her faster.””
The last comment made you and Neteyam burn bright purple, the words completely lost on Tuk but oh-so amusing to Kiri and Lo’ak when they heard their youngest sibling repeat the phrase several times. It got so bad that they physically had to cover her mouth when their mother did a quick check on them.
You were about to say something—asking the two of them why they hadn’t asked her to stop repeating the words—when Tuk tugged on your arm, finding the next big thing to bother you about while you were still here.
“Come! I have something to show you!” She dragged you out of the Sully home, away for her sibling’s sights.
Kiri watched in amusement as the flaps to the place flew, a teasing smile on her lips as she dropped her head in Neteyam’s direction. “She’s going to take her from you.”
Neteyam stared at the spot where you stood for a second, shaking his head and smiling weakly toward Kiri. He wasn’t too bothered by Tuk today… right?
“I’m just glad that they’re getting along.” He said almost flatly, causing Kiri to raise a brow at him.
Lo’ak snickered while he dodged a swipe from his brother, earning an eye roll from him as he reminded them of Tuk’s past shenanigans. “Remember there was entire week where Tuk wouldn’t let her go anywhere without her? She’s so protective of her.”
“I wonder why.” Kiri drawled in his direction, yelping when Lo’ak tugged at her tail. She furiously pushed his chest, making Neteyam sigh and pull them apart from each other as Kiri yelled at Lo’ak who was still making faces toward her. “Skxawng!”
Just then, the flap to their home opened, their mother entering with a sharp gaze because of the loud sounds she heard on her way over—the three of them looking at each other knowing they were caught. Well, mainly Lo’ak and Kiri.
“Enough.” Neytiri put a hand up and looked around the place, her ears tucking back when she couldn’t find her youngest daughter. “Where is Tuk?”
None of them spoke for a second, simply watching their mother clean the place up with a grace none of them could master just yet. It’s not like they how to pick up wooden toys and toss them into a basket while still looking like a woodsprite.
Neteyam was the first to speak, tilting his head with a fond look in his eyes as he revealed to her that Tuk was with you, his younger siblings looking at each other at their brother’s lovesick look.
Neytiri hummed, grabbing the basket you brought earlier and picking it up. She took the fine beads that were carefully wrapped on the inside before looking up at her eldest, a soft smile gracing her lips.
“Speaking of your future mate, she has Tsahìk training with your grandmother and I tomorrow morning.” She revealed, cupping his cheek and pinching it. “So no staying out late tonight with her. We need her up bright and early.”
Gagging and laughing could be heard from where Lo’ak and Kiri stood, their noises making their brother’s face flush, warmth flooding his face with embarrassment at his mother’s words. He couldn’t tell if that was what his mother was exactly insinuating, but it certainly what his siblings were.
“Mother.” Neteyam cleared his throat, pushing Neytiri’s hand away from him.
She clicked her tongue in his direction, shaking her head and giving him a look that told him that her and Jake were once like him and you long ago. “Are you not courting her?”
Neteyam feigned annoyance, eyes darting away from her knowing gaze as he spoke only to be cut off by the sibling who loved you just as much as he did.
“I am, but—“
“Mama!” Tuk shouts and jumps out of your arms, running up to her mother and hugging her tightly while you stumble slightly at the sudden movement.
Luckily, Neteyam caught you within seconds, his tail wrapping around your waist in protectiveness. You smiled softly before taking a step closer to him, your hand brushing with his before you laced them together, making him lift your joined hands and kissing your knuckles.
Lo’ak whistles at the action as he walked out of the home, earning an eye roll from Kiri. She simply sat back down on the woven mat and continued to bead together a top, still listening intently to the conversation without fail.
“What did I miss?” You ask with a smile, ears perked up and tail swishing behind you before it instinctively curled around Neteyam’s thigh, causing the boy’s cheeks to flush a darker purple than it already was.
“Nothing worth listening to.” Neteyam murmured against your hair, pressing another kiss to your temple before his voice dropped even lower to the point where only you could hear him. “Are we still going to the river tonight, yawntu?”
This time, your own cheeks flush a deep purple to match his, the end of your tail thumping on his thigh in an exultant manner. “Who would I be if I ever said no?”
“C’mon, let’s go! She’s probably waiting for us already!” Tuk dragged Neteyam by the arm as they walk through Pandora’s vast forest, her small legs doing her best to run while Neteyam did his best to hold onto her tightly, praying to Eywa that she wouldn’t trip or fall.
Lo’ak pulled a face and rolled his eyes at his younger sister, nudging Spider in amusement while Kiri gave him an unimpressed look. “Tuk, slow down. We won’t get there any faster if you twist your ankle and complain about the trip to the river.”
Now, Neteyam had no idea how Tuk found out that he was going to meet up with you at the river that evening. All Neteyam knew was that she threatened to tell their parents if he didn’t let her go with him to see you—but that didn’t include telling his siblings and apparently Spider. So the next thing he knew was that he was taking four others to your spot, each step diminishing his eagerness to see you.
Tuk stuck her tongue out at Lo’ak, only earning one from him as well before she saw you standing at the clearing by the river, her tail swishing energetically behind her in excitement. Tuk called out your name and your ears perked up at the voice in surprise as you thought you were only supposed to see Neteyam.
Turning around, your golden eyes found the Sully family—including Spider—approach where you stood, the youngest climbing over a large log hastily to get to you somewhat faster.
When they got close enough, you opened your arms for a hug that Neteyam thought was his, his own arms raised before you bent over and gathered Tuk in your arms. Neteyam froze with his arms still up, stunned ever so slightly before glaring at the three behind him who were stifling their laughter.
“Tuktuk!” You smothered her face in kisses—the ones Neteyam should’ve received. You admire her softly, knowing you saw her earlier during dinner but nonetheless offered her your compliments. “You look so pretty.”
“Not as pretty as you!” She giggled and held onto your neck tightly as you swayed back and forth, her eyes catching the new beaded top you wore. “You weren’t wearing that earlier.”
Your cheeks warm at her observation, your tail flicking behind you slightly before you shake your head knowing the top was supposed to be for Neteyam but she didn’t need to know that.
“I just wanted to try it on for once. Does it look good, Tuktuk?”
“So good!” She giggled again and began to ask millions of questions about the beads, the river, the different glowing plants—anything she could that would retain your attention for as long as she could have it.
Lo’ak punched his brother’s shoulder, now laughing quite loudly in Neteyam’s opinion. “Bro, you wish that was you.”
And before Neteyam could say something back, Kiri let her heart get the better of her, saving her older brother from getting ruthlessly poked and prodded by her other brother. And, unfortunately, saving Lo’ak from an earful—which she didn’t really care for.
“Tuk, come here. Let’s get you adjusted to the water so you can swim.” Kiri called Tuk over with a small smile in your direction, making the youngest Sully dramatically sigh and reluctantly leave your arms with an exaggerated pout.
You watched her to ensure she was safe in her sister’s arms before turning to Neteyam whose ears were flat with his tail swishing vigorously back and forth. You walked over to him and lead him away from the rest of the group, your eyes scanning his figure.
“What’s wrong, Teyam—?”
“You love Tuk more than me.” Neteyam interrupted, his tail now moving more fiercely as his gaze met yours. His golden eyes flickered with an emotion you thought was impossible for him to ever feel, amusement running through your veins.
“That’s not true.” You laugh with a shake of your head, cupping his cheeks gently as you spoke and thumbing the patterns decorating his face. “I love you and Tuk differently.”
Neteyam softens under your touch but still mutters in complaint about the attention you give his much younger sister, a pout settling on his lips that reminded you of said little sister. “But you just have to greet her first?”
“She’s my little baby!” You scoff with a teasing smile as he finally wraps his arms around your waist, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’re jealous, Neteyam. Of your own sister.”
“No.” He meets your eyes carefully before deciding to bury his head in your neck, mumbling against your skin in embarrassment. “No.”
“Mhm.” You grin and rub his back gently, ears perking up when you could hear his siblings shouting at each other before shaking your head, focusing your attention back to the Na’vi you loved with all your heart. “You shouldn’t lie to the person you’re courting, Teyam.”
“I hate you.” He groans and holds you flush against him, your tail wrapping around his leg naturally from the familiar position while his own tail found its home around your waist once more.
“No you don’t.” You laugh again and lightly pull him up from his spot in your neck, your golden eyes catching his—your eyes reflecting his beautiful face. “I see you, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. And I know I could never find anyone else like you.”
Neteyam looks between your eyes, his own eyes shimmering before he pressed his forehead against yours, meeting your lips with tenderness. “I see you too, yawntu.” He pressed another kiss to your lips before pulling away, forehead still against yours. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” You murmur, thumbing his bottom lip with a small smile. You peck his lips once more, gaze catching his. “It’s okay.”
“We’re not going to be able to sneak away, are we?” He mumbled as you begin to kiss every inch of his face, his hand finding the curve of your back.
You hum against his lips, pulling back ever so slightly to meet his blown eyes. “Not unless you want to lie.”
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 Neteyam and you had grown up togther, played and trained like dangerous thanator cubs until his iknimaya came and he suddenly began to believe himself better than you. So why, now that it is mating season, does he suddenly take an interest in you again?
ᶜʷ cannon divergence, aggressive(?)reader, smal misunderstandings, sexual comment made towards reader, angst?(happy ending)
ʷᶜ 13.7k
You remember the days when you were little, as if they were yesterday.
You remember when you first began to acknowledge Neteyam's presence. His face started to form features, instead of just being glossed over. His body began to take a shape, instead of being a blue blob in your periphery. The high pitched gurgles and giggles that he let out now reached deeper parts of your brain, and hearing them made you release your own in turn.
You remember when the two of you began to explore the forest. Learning of Eywa's beauties and strengths. Deciding upon your favorite creatures and flowers. Becoming unafraid of the ambiance that it held, and learning awareness of what sounds led to danger and what was alright to stay around.
You remember when your fathers began teaching you the ways of the warriors. Teaching you how to track, to nock an arrow, to achieve a clean kill, and to sharpen your knives. The two of you were always sparring partners in these early days – you learned the traditional ways of battle, before adding your own flares to it.
But then Neteyam completed his iknimaya.
He was the youngest of the Omatikaya to ever do it. His fathers expectations of him pressing him to become better, to be the best he can be, to be the symbol of the strength of the people.
When he had told you that he was going to attempt his iknimaya, you were surprised. It was not that you believed he couldn't complete it, but he was so young, had so much time left in his life and there was no need to rush things.
Nonetheless, you were excited. Over the moon for your best friend. Before he ventured out you had crushed him in your arms, pressing a swift kiss on his cheek to wish him good luck.
You weren’t surprised to see him arrive home unscathed. The celebration that night was loud, the clan's excitement at an all time high for the Olo’eyktans son. It was then that the young hunters approached Neteyam.
They were a few years older than the two of you – slightly jealous at the fact that Neteyam had accomplished so much when he was so young. But instead of teasing him, pushing him, even bullying him into submission, they took to praising him.
There was no doubt that Neteyam would become Olo’eyktan. No doubt that he would lead the people when his time had come. So it was best to start making friendships now, to start fostering their relationships and secure their future positions in the clan while Neteyam was still young.
You and him had been dancing when they approached. Moving your bodies to the beats of the drums, laughing freely, simply basking in the celebration. But then Teylun taps on Neteyam's shoulder, dragging his attention away from you.
Over the music you can faintly hear something about ‘join us,’ and ‘welcome you,’. You miss most of what Teylun says, but from what you did catch it seems as if he and his friends want to congratulate Neteyam personally.
The two of you were attached at the hip, everyone in the clan knew you both were inseparable. So when Teylun begins to lead Neteyam away you move to follow. But for the first time, possibly ever, you aren’t allowed to go.
Teylun pushes Neteyam’s shoulder blade urging him forward, before turning back to face you. “I’m sorry ‘eveng, we will be discussing warrior things. It is best if you stay back, converse with people your own speed.”
He is calling you a child? Just because you didn’t want to rush your iknimaya, did not mean that you were a weak child. That you couldn’t complete it if you really wanted to. Before you get the chance to retaliate, to say your piece, Teylun has already guided Neteyam the rest of the way to where his friends reside.
You wouldn’t disrupt. It was Neteyam’s night, his celebration, and he could be in whoever's company he wished. You would see him in the morning anyway, then you could tell him how rude Teylun was to you.
When morning arrives you begin your way towards the Sully kelku. Normally Neteyam would meet you halfway, then the two of you would head towards the training grounds or the forest together. He didn’t today though, maybe he was just tired. So you keep moving, you could just meet him at his home.
Maybe you could even steal some fruit or meat under the guise that your parents hadn’t fed you. Yes, that would be nice. A second breakfast to set you up for the perfect day. As you poke your head into their kelku, you don’t see Neteyam.
It still doesn’t phase you. Pushing past the hides that cover the entry way you make your way towards where Neytiri and Lo’ak sit. “Good morning auntie, Lo’ak.”
The human word felt odd coming from your throat, but Jake had taught it to you when you were young. He said that the word meant close, almost motherly figure; and Neytiri was always like that to you.
Lo’ak stands, crashing into your chest with a tight hug. He acts as if he had not seen you just yesterday, had not danced with you after Neteyam left with Teylun.
“Would you like something to eat, child?”
When you nod, Neytiri hands you a leaf holding fresh fruits and roots. The perfect way to start your day. You begin picking at the meal with your fingers, picking the best pieces for yourself, and giving the slightly less best pieces to Lo’ak.
After swallowing a few bites you begin to look around. Where is Neteyam? He is usually an early riser, and you had expected him to be up by now even with the late night he had.
As if sensing your curiosity Lo'ak speaks. “Big bro left.”
He doesn't acknowledge the look on your face, doesn't even look up from where he's deciding what piece of fruit he wants from your leaf. You only come out of your stupor when he points at a particularly juicy piece of fruit and asks if he can have it.
“Where did he go?” You hand Lo'ak the fruit, leaning your head against his as you ask.
You can feel him shrug, feel his jaw work as he chews before he responds. “Dunno, I think he said something about going with Teylun.”
Neytiri snaps at Lo'ak, telling him to mind his grammar. She didn’t like how much English he included in his daily life, much less when he began creating Na'vi slang that matched with words his father had used when he was a human.
You tune her out. Instead focusing on how Neteyam is off with Teylun again. You could understand last night, it was important to show camaraderie. That must be what this is.
Allowing Neteyam to follow along with their hunt, or training, or whatever it was that they were getting up to. Allowing him to establish himself with the others who have completed their iknimayas.
So you thank Neytiri for the food, ruffle Lo'ak's braids, and head out to train yourself. You don’t manage to catch a glimpse of Neteyam for the rest of the day. It’s odd, and it places what feels to be a rock in the center of your chest. But you knew you would see him tomorrow. These new friends would ebb and fade, and even if they didn’t Neteyam wouldn’t abandon you for no reason.
The next day as you approach the Sully kelku, there is distinct chatter. You can hear Teylun’s voice, is he ever going to leave Neteyam alone? Then Li’ral’s voice filters in too. Neteyam’s voice is the first clear thing that you can hear.
“Are you sure that I cannot join you later? I have not seen ma txeylan in nearly two days.”
Teylun laughs. You assume it is because he sees you as a child. Li’ral pitches in, confirming your thoughts, “The girl who has been attached to your side since the two of you were toddlers?”
“Yes, that is her.”
“She is a ‘eveng. You are a warrior now.”
Neteyam sighs, “She is not a ‘eveng. Just because she did not complete her iknimaya yet doesn’t mean-”
“But has she not trained as long as you?”
“She has. What does that have to do with her being a child?”
Thank Eywa he was standing up for you. You knew you could trust him.
“It means she should have trusted herself, her training and attempted her iknimaya as well. It is childish fear that held her back.”
Most Omatikaya didn't complete their iknimayas until they were a minimum of fifteen years of age anyway. You were not behind, Neteyam was just leagues ahead of everyone.
You think Neteyam would retort again. Come to your defense as he always had – but instead you can hear the familiar patter of footsteps. A faint conversation discussing the best way to roast a yerik, wafts over to your ears before you lose the ability to hear them.
Maybe he had defended you again when you were out of earshot. There was no way he allowed the conversation to change so easily, still wanting to defend the person he spent so many years beside.
The opportunity to confront him never comes. To ask for some comfort about the situation, for him to quell your fears that he truly did see you as a child.
Just a short week after his iknimaya, Neteyam was to complete his dream hunt. You would not let him evade you before this event. The possibility of him dying was too great to not at least wish him luck.
Not because he needed it, you knew how strong and determined he was. But because you wanted to show that you still cared, still considered him your best friend even with the distance of the past week.
When you approach the small group he's settled in, they go silent. Their eyes flit from Neteyam to you hastily.
“Ma txeylan, do you have a moment?” You keep your voice light, trying to block the nervousness from seeping into your tone.
Neteyam's ear flicks. The young hunters he's began to associate himself with eye him, smirks and grimaces adorning their features. His beads clink as he allows his head to nod slightly, “Of course.”
He lets you drag him a few feet away from the group. Positions himself with a view of the group he was sitting with over your shoulder.
“I've missed you.” A polite smile graces your features as you speak.
Once again he only nods to show any sign that he has heard you. But you don't let him get away with it; instead taking to staring into his eyes with your bright ones. So he grants you a small, noncommittal sound from the back of his throat.
When you realize that you won't be getting a vocal response you continue, “I just wanted to wish you well. To tell you I am hoping for good luck on your dream hunt.”
“Why?”
Your eyebrows raise in surprise at his odd question, then they furrow, “What do you mean why?”
Neteyam’s eyes flick over your shoulder, making contact with the new friends he’s solidified himself with. Then he breathes a deep, annoyed breath, “Why do you feel the need to wish me luck. I am not a ‘eveng, like you,” For the first time in days his eyes meet yours, “I can handle myself.”
Oh. So that’s how it was going to be. You stuck with him for years, and now he wants to cast you aside because he has some new and shiny friends.
How unfair.
Laughter bubbles up behind you. When you look up you can see Neteyam’s lips quirk into a smile at the sound, can see the way his chest puffs slightly in pride. You don’t need to look at the group to know they were staring at you, that their amusement was due to your embarrassment.
The sound burns into your memory. Sears painfully into the deepest parts of your brain. It must have changed the chemistry in your brain with the way that it now triggers your fight or flight response.
That same laugh drags your attention from your friends. It brings a twinge to your chest – one that quickly places a scowl on your face. It’s bringing the urge to fight. To cross the cookfire and pour a full waterskin over Li’rals’s head. To shove Teylun over the log he’s sitting on and cave his nose into his face. To grasp Neteyam’s tail and attempt to dislodge it from where it rested on his spine.
But you take a deep, steadying breath. Take a loving glance at the friends you’ve surrounded yourself with; the ones who adopted you after Neteyam abandoned you. And you decided to take it out on him tomorrow during training, there no one could judge you for seeming bloodthirsty.
The adults of the clan haven’t seemed to get the memo that you and Neteyam are not friends.
Well, more that you cannot stand him. Anytime he speaks, you grunt to reply. When he looks in your direction, you make sure to avoid your eyes. If he approaches your friends to discuss what they’re weaving or how the hunt went, you make it a point to act as if he does not exist.
When you’re in the same hunting party, not much is achieved. Formations are broken, twigs are snapped, prey is lost. No one can decide who to blame; Neteyam for putting you in the most useless part of the formation, or you for storming off and hunting by yourself.
And sparring together always leads to more scrapes and bruises than when you spar for anyone else. So you’d think that Jake and your father would avoid placing you two together. That they’d want two of the clan's best warriors to stay in formidable shape.
Their wiseness should have been able to influence their decision. To prevent them from ever even thinking that the two of you could be applicable partners. That you could ever go back to how it was.
Instead, at least once a month, the two of you end up partners.
Unfortunately it is the most entertaining part of the session. Watching the two of you be forced into the circle; him smiling as he scratches the back of his neck, you huffing before shoving yourself off the tree you were leaning against. They’d watch in anticipation as Neteyam watched you, assessing your stance, trying to make eye contact.
Then their eyes would flick to you. Watching how you’d toe at the ground, roll your knuckles till they crack, bite your lip as you stare at your father like he personally offended you. It was obvious that you were wound up, like a cord ready to snap.
You’d wait until the last moment, until your father or his would call for the start of the spar, to even glance in his direction. Rarely looking at his eyes, instead learning the movements of his muscles so you could determine his movements from that. Anything so that you wouldn’t have to look at his stupid face.
At the beginning of the spar, everything would be cordial. Proper stances, dancing around each other before taking light jabs, ducking and dodging until you were inevitably told to ‘push your opponent!’. It was then that Neteyam would start lunging a bit more seriously, reaching his hands out to grab at your thigh or push your shoulder; something to tip your center of gravity, allowing him to pin you down.
You’d retaliate with shoves of your own, letting your nails scrape a lot more than necessary. It was low, a bit dirtier than should be allowed in spars, but it wasn’t explicitly against the rules. Plus, who's to say the scrapes didn’t come after the two of you had started rolling around?
It didn’t matter how it happened. Didn’t matter who shoved who, who’s hips pinned the others down, who celebrated their victory a bit too early; the two of you would always end up tousling on the ground.
Provoked, enraged, by the others misplaced confidence, whoever was pinned would buck and thrash until they had regained a bit of control. Then the two of you would be wrestling, throwing insults back and forth among the punches, grabbing braids, tugging tails, hell you’d even taken to some below the belt kicks a few times.
With how last night had gone, today was shaping up to be one of the worse spars the two of you have had. Neteyam had pinned you, somehow still in top shape after all the rumaut wine he had had yesterday. It would be fine, everything would be okay, but then Li’ral had to open his big fat mouth.
It wasn’t loud, not wanting the elders, especially the Olo’eyktan, to hear him. But it was loud enough to drift over the edge of the circle to where you laid beneath Neteyam. You heard his voice float over you as your ears were just recovering from their ringing, ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if he mounted her like that again after eclipse one of these nights.’ Just who, on Eywa’s green planet, did he think he was talking about?
And if that wasn’t insulting enough, you could hear the faint laughter follow from Neteyam’s friends. On a better day, you’d take your eyes off Neteyam, angle your head back so you could tilt the yellow orbs to assess who specifically was laughing. You’d catalog them into your brain, prepare to treat them a little harsher the next time you sparred. But today was not a better day, and it was just in Neteyam’s luck that he also heard the joke, and was allowing himself a few huffs of laughter from where he rested above you.
Your vision fades black at the edges, sole focus being on the boy atop you. With sudden, aggressive thrusts, you launch him from the seat he was claiming. He falls, landing on his back with a rough exhale. While he’s disoriented, you rotate off your back and hastily crawl towards him.
Before you can settle yourself into a position that allows you to hold Neteyam down, you swing. Your fist collides with his cheek, the force splitting his lip and sending you falling over until you’re laid out on top of him. From there you swing your leg over his torso, taking a firm seat before you continue your onslaught.
Surely, this had led to another joke to bubble from his friends. Something about how eager you were to mount him. You couldn’t hear it though, too busy thrusting your fist towards Neteyam’s face. Too busy ripping his arms away from where they came up to block your assault. Too busy pulling at those damn braids that he loved to swing around.
At some point Neteyam had tried to push back. Thrusted his hips up hoping to displace you, but you were too far up on his chest for it to do anything. Tried to grab your arms when you swung, yet you managed to dislodge them. Attempted to even roll his body under yours, to lay on his stomach and get some leverage to stand and force you off. But nothing worked, something had snapped in you – something that gave you insane strength that you were using to the fullest.
The rage you had felt forcing your blood to boil, for it to rush so fast through your veins that you were rendered unable to hear anything else. You couldn’t hear the gasps. Couldn’t hear the concerned murmurs. Couldn’t hear Neteyam saying he yielded. Couldn’t hear the Olo’eyktan telling you to get off of his son, nor your father reprimanding your sudden rampage.
Suddenly – well suddenly, for you, – you’re hoisted off of Neteyam. As you raise into the air you get a perfect view of him. Laid out on the dirt, chest rising in heavy breaths, lip busted and bleeding down the side of his face, cheek already gaining an indigo tint, braids misplaced from the wrap he had them in; it brings a maniacal grin to your face.
Yeah, his friends and him could make fun of you all they wanted. But at the end of the day, you’d be the one laughing. That was one thing you’d made sure of ever since that night so many moon rotations ago – they’d never be able to call you a child again.
Slowly a voice fades into your head. Vowels and consonants forming into syllables that you can finally piece together into words. It’s your fathers voice, he’s whispering a scolding, ‘I cannot believe you did that’, ‘ma’ite, I know he aggravates you, but he is still the Olo’eyktan’s son’, ‘How will it look to the elders’, ‘You’ll scare off potential mates if you keep up with this,’. You weren’t embarrassed at your actions, but being hauled away while everyone knew you were getting scolded brought a slight flush to your cheeks.
You’re sure to be scolded more intently when safely tucked into your kelku. Sure that your mother will force you to spend more time with the weavers and the gathers, saying that it’ll soften your demeanor. Sure that your father will remind you of how he fought with Jake Sully and Neytiri, how their union was strong and Neteyam and yours should be similar especially with your mature ages.
So when the conversation happens you let it. Nodding dutifully as they chatter; agree to chaperone the gathers as they forage, agree to weave with the elders so you can soak up their wisdom, even agree to stay in formation next time you go for a hunt.
It’s only when they mention apologizing, that you deny. A grimace overtakes your features, brows creasing as you speak, “I will not do such a thing. I cannot do such a thing.”
“You will. We must be united as a clan,” Your father speaks, tone harsh, “Today you showed everything but unity. You showed the fierceness of the clan, and our unwavering determination. So you must tie the whole thing together with our camaraderie, this can only be completed with an apology.”
You frown, ready to plead, to beg for any other punishment, “Father please. I cannot do it.”
“You must.” He frowns back, not wanting to debate the matter any longer.
“If you were to have heard what his friends were saying about me, then you would understand!”
“It does not matter. We must take the high route.”
You stand, slightly moving towards the entrance flap of the kelku, “It was disgusting, bordering vile, father! And he – Neteyam, he was laughing right along with them!”
“What did they say?”
Fantastic.
You weren’t going to repeat their words. It would only make the situation worse. Your father wouldn’t stand for it, ready to defend your honor even if it put your family at risk of shame.
“Can I not just avoid him? You and the Olo’eyktan do not have to place us to spar any more, and we can coexist just fine as long as we aren’t forced to interact.”
It must have gotten to him. Your father seems to be pondering the idea. It’d be much simpler that way, changing schedules and ensuring that the two of you don’t spar together would prevent most of their issues. But it would also mean that two of their best warriors wouldn’t have their best competition, and it would risk their skills dulling.
A small grin graces your face. You could do this, could avoid Neteyam and his group of friends for the rest of your parents' days. And you’d never have to apologize for something you weren’t sorry for. But then your mother speaks, “You must apologize.”
“Mother! I cann-”
“You must! I will not have the elders shame our family at the weaving circle, will not have others whisper our names with disgrace on their tongues. Please daughter, swallow your pride this time, after you may avoid him, yes?”
Your head falls. Sure you may not have minded what the elders had to say, didn’t mind when people spoke ill of you; but that was because you knew they didn’t know the full story. That they would probably have your side if you had voiced your side too.
So instead of rebuking again, you allow your head to nod. A soft hum of agreement leaves your throat before you depart through the flaps of the kelku. You storm through the clan, rushing to the ikran rookery; a nice flight to clear your head before your inevitable apology.
It’s a calming mechanism you’ve used since you passed your iknimaya. The clear air and loads of open space allow you to think through all your problems easily. Small tricks and flips bring you confidence. Your skills in the air remind you of your skills on the ground; and a smile is brought to your face as you remember Neteyam flat on his back earlier today.
You fly for hours, watch the sun reach eclipse atop your ikran. Observe as the bioluminescent glow overtakes the forest. Eventually, your racing heart slows, and your breaths come more regularly, and it’s then that you decide you can apologize.
The Sully kelku has its entrance flaps open when you arrive, typical as the Olo’eyktan is expected to be available until the last clan member goes to sleep. You don’t walk straight in however, instead sing-songing a soft “Kaltxì.”
It is Lo’ak who comes to the entrance, “Oh shit.” He laughs out your name, “Dude, the way you beat Neteyam’s ass today was crazy!”
“Yes,” a tight lipped smile adornes your features, “I am here to apologize. Is Neteyam around?”
Lo’ak gazes at you curiously, even though you put distance between you when you stopped talking with Neteyam, he had never let you fully seal the door. Normally when he’d praise your skills, you’d at least laugh a bit with him. Nonetheless, he nods, “Yeah. Yeah he’s on the sleeping mats.” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to where you could find him.
“Where is everyone else?”
“Mom and dad are out, and Kiri and Tuk are weaving.”
Good. This was good. You didn’t want to have anyone in the family hearing the conversation, but you also didn’t want to have it outside where anyone could hear. “Can you just come back in a little bit Lo? I must apologize to your brother in private.”
“In private?” Lo’ak’s eyebrows waggle, “Aloneee?”
You shove past him before turning and lightly pushing his shoulder to urge him into taking a few steps out the kelku. “It is not like that and you know it.”
As you move deeper into the home, you call out to Neteyam a few times. Eywa forbid he was improper when you finally saw him. When you finally hear his voice ring back, you allow yourself to duck into the area that held their sleeping mats.
Letting your eyes rove over him you can see the damage you did. You look at the way he winces upon sitting up, how his lip is still swollen, the indigo finally setting on his cheek, even the faint scratches that rest upon his pectoral muscles. He looked bad, it takes everything in you to not allow a smile to grace your features.
You allow yourself to kneel, not wanting to seem higher or more important by towering over him.
“I am here to apologize. My earlier actions are inexcusable and I hope you can forgive me.”
Neteyam nods a bit. Lets your words linger in the air before he responds, “It is fine. We all get overcome by our emotions sometimes.”
“It is not fine.” Your head shakes, beads clinking to accentuate your point, “Please accept my apology, do not brush it off.”
“Okay.” His tongue darts out over his lips, bringing the bottom one between his teeth before he hisses from how tender it is, “I accept your apology.”
Good. He will no doubt tell his parents about your change of heart, and it will spread from there. Your family will be cleared from any possible shame and you can go on with your lives. As you move to get up Neteyam’s hand wraps around your wrist.
Your eyes flick over to his, “What is it?”
“I’ve just been thinking. I miss you, we used to be so close, you know?” His hand falls, but his eyes keep peering into yours, “What happened to us?”
“What do you mean, ‘what happened to us,’?” You scoff, all semblance of being friendly disappearing, “Trust me when I say this. You are not important to me. You may have been, but you never will be again.”
Fast, jerky movements lead you out of the Sully kelku. How dare he say something so preposterous? How dare he act as if he’s not the reason the two of you are here?
Unbelievable.
At least you wouldn’t have to interact with him again. Thank Eywa.
Neteyam did not know what had gotten into you today.
Last night you had seemed pleased, happy to drink rumaut wine with your friends as the cookfire reduced to embers. He’d been watching you, allowing his eyes to roam over the people, but lingering on you for a bit longer than everyone else.
This morning however something was off. You were on edge, nearly strung your bow too tight before archery practice. When the time for sparring finally rolled around, instead of meandering near the edge, you were bouncing on the balls of your feet – like a thanator ready to pounce.
It was his luck that the two of you were paired together today.
The dance you’d fall into was familiar, he was prepared for it. Ready to dance around and trade dominance until one of you became too tired to continue. But today, you’re hyper-aggressive; your moves are harsher, punches are harder, jabs are faster.
He hisses the first time your nails make contact with his chest; it’s almost as if they’ve been sharpened, prepped to cut just for this. The sting urges him to take you down, to put some real use to his larger muscles thanks to his father's avatar DNA.
He ducks down, using his right hand to grab at your left thigh. His hand slides down the smooth skin until he can grab at the flexion of your knee. Then he tugs it towards himself, tilting you backwards.
Instead of letting you fall alone, he follows. Neteyam lets his left hand move to the back of your head, preventing it from hitting the ground too roughly. But once you’re settled on the ground, he clambers over you, settling most of his weight on your hips.
At first you try to hit him, fruitlessly using your arms to displace him. It doesn’t work, but it does get annoying. Neteyam moves to pin your arms, now he can secure his win without any other lesions to his body.
He smiles, huffing a little laugh at how angered you are today. He wants to ask what was up with you, wants to ask what crawled up your tewng today. But then something happens – something otherworldly takes over you.
Unnaturally bucking overtakes your hips, your whole body is being used. Shoulders pressing into the ground beneath you, legs bent at the knee to grant extra force, even your arms slide across the ground to displace his grip.
The shock overtakes him, forcing him off your body. His back roughly hits the ground, and the breath is knocked from his lungs. And before he can even acknowledge that he’s off from where he once sat victoriously on you, you’ve launched a punch into his cheek.
From there it’s only downhill. You’ve taken a seat upon him and begin laying into his face, his chest, his arms, really anything you can.
Neteyam tries to fight it at first. Tries to defend his face, to force you off of him, to flip the two of you over, but nothing works. He tries to ensure your win, to yield, but his voice goes uncared for or unheard.
It’s only when your father hauls you off of him that he gets some room to breathe. The break allows the ache to set in his jaw, and his cheek, and his lip, and his scalp. Eywa, did he hope that his grandmother would use the yalna bark salve today.
His father hauls him up from the ground. Gives him a once over as he questions, “You good boy?”
Neteyam nods, braids falling over his face when he doesn’t move to raise his head again.
“Good. Go get patched up.”
With a pat and light shove to his shoulder, Neteyam is off. When he arrives to the Tsahik’s tent, he’s pleasantly surprised to see that it’s only his mother and grandmother inside.
He can hear them chattering about something. The words ‘of age,’ and ‘best time to train a tsakarem,’ float to his perked up ears before he realizes they’re speaking about him.
So he delays making his appearance known for a little longer, taking post behind the tent where the hides are thin. Their words come softly muffled through the hide, his grandmother’s voice ringing through first, “Many will seek him out during the upcoming mating season.”
“Yes,” His mother hums, “I can only imagine how many gifts will swarm our kelku.”
The two of them chuckle and it brings a smile to Neteyam’s face. But then he remembers how soon the season is, just a few short weeks away. Sure his siblings had teased him plenty about how many girls would throw themselves at him – but that was useless teasing, this was his mother and grandmother. If they’re speculating it must be serious.
“It will all be for naught if he does not reciprocate. Has Neteyam spoken of anyone who has piqued his interest?”
“No, he has not. There are many near his age this season though.”
His mother was right, there were many who’d be his age this mating season. Even though Neteyam could think of the prospects himself, his mother and grandmother began to list off the girls that would be participating this season, allowing him to mull over their attributes himself.
“Pxule…” She is one of the singers. Soft spoken until she needs to voice the hymns of the ancestors and she finally allows her voice to raise. A kind girl, but not one he could see himself being mated to for eternity.
“To’lei…” A gatherer. Her nimble fingers always grant her perfect harvests. It would seem as if Eywa herself loves when To’lei heads into her forest, always granting her the best materials from whatever area she’s decided to forage in. Her skills would eternally be useful to the clan, but she engages in constant babbling as she gathers, rarely taking moments to embrace the natural noises of the flora and fauna.
“Mekani…” One of the hunters. She was able to flawlessly lead a hunt among the younger bunch; her stern tone leaving no room for discussion or pushback. Her shoulders were never bare when she arrived back at hometree, making sure to share the burden of such a success with her fellow hunters. A formidable mate, someone who knew how to lead and the importance of being strict, but she never seemed to let up, never showed a softer side that would be important for raising children.
Maybe Neteyam would need to take some time to sit and think when he got home. All of the options that were being listed were good options; just not for him. He needed someone who matched him, someone who questioned when he was making a bad decision, someone who could be soft when he didn’t know how to be.
If he could take a trait from each of the girls listed and place them into a mold, he’d end up with the perfect mate. The one who would make him confident when he took the role of Olo’eyktan over. But that wasn’t possible, he couldn’t force any one of them to fit whatever mold he’d created in his head. Just as he’s about to push out of his kneel and approach the entrance of the tent his mothers voice cuts in again.
She spoke your name, “For a time, when they were little, I believed that they would end up together.”
“Hm. Why is that?”
“They were always together. You cannot be that close for so long and never grow any feelings – it is how I came to see Jake in another light.”
Neteyam hadn’t even considered the fact that you would be participating this year. Sure you were the same age, and had long since passed your iknimaya. However the thought of you getting dressed up in brightly colored loincloths and chest coverings just to dance around the cookfire with potential mates made him sick.
His brain ran through the list of men who’d be eligible this year. Sure there were plenty of options, but none of them would be good enough. Korvyn was too timid. Sa’nel was too immature. Rikutu had many adventures with girls already.
The thought of you ending up with a courting gift adorning your body by the end of the season soured his mood.
He knew it was wrong – to be this protective over you, even though he hadn’t spoken properly to you in years. But that wasn’t his fault! He had tried; joined your friends as they weaved, taken the position of lead in your hunting parties, and he’d made sure to never take it easy on you during spars not wanting to undermine all the training he knew you did.
You were the one that refused to speak to him after he came into his own.
After his dream hunt, he’d begun getting more responsibilities. It was around that time that you stopped talking to him. When he called across a clearing, your head would turn in the opposite direction. He’d sneak up on you and Lo’ak as you helped him with his aim, only revealing himself to give some advice of his own, but instead of sticking around you’d mention that he could take over before leaving.
No matter what, it was a deflection, and it was you who influenced the distance. Not him. So why does it matter if you’ll probably be ending the mating season with a serious prospect courting you. Who cares that in the next few months you’ll mate before Eywa with some skxawng. It makes no difference that sometime in the near future there might be a child running around hometree with your eyes, your mates nose, and tiny loincloths weaved by your own fingers.
The thoughts wound Neteyam up tightly. As if he was twine woven around a tree to stabilize a kelku. It made his treatment rougher than necessary; his grandmother moving to massage the tensed muscles more than needed.
Even though his muscles had been worked out, stretched and prodded until they were spongy and soft again, his brain was still a mess. What could he do to prevent such an outcome? How could he implement himself back in your life in a way that would put him in a perfect position to determine who you decided to spend the rest of your life with?
Hours passed as he laid on his sleeping mat and pondered. Eventually his thoughts were interrupted by your voice calling out to him. At first he had assumed it had been a figment of his imagination – that because his thoughts were all consumed by you, his brain had decided to play a trick on him. But then the voice came again, and again, and it only stopped after he had responded.
It was you, really you! Sitting next to him, poised upon your knees as you spewed something about an apology. Truly, he did not care. Everyone has bad moments, maybe not him, but now wasn’t the time to say that.
You hadn’t liked that. Forced him to not just brush off your apology. And that’s fine, it’s the first time in nearly half your lives that you’ve said more than ‘okay’ or ‘I heard you’ to him. So he accepts your apology all while silently hoping that you’d stick around, say something else to continue the conversation. You must’ve missed him as much as he’s missed you. Must have been wondering what his daily life looked like now.
Instead, you move to rise. Hands plant on your knees as you let your center of gravity shift to allow your knee to come up from beneath you. It’s then that Neteyam realizes Eywa’s delivered you to him. Here, on a shining platter (your knees so you’re level to him), and he’d be a fool to not take the opportunity to talk.
He lets his hand rest upon your wrist for a moment. Allows his calloused fingers to feel over your pulse point until you question what he needs. It takes him a moment to find his voice, to gather his thoughts into a proper sentence.
“I’ve just been thinking. I miss you, we used to be so close, you know?” Neteyam lets his hand drop, believing that you’ll stick around without him tethering you, “What happened to us?”
For a moment he thinks that you will give him an answer. Something about how you wanted space to grow into your own, but now that you’re both old enough you’re willing to become friends again.
“What do you mean, ‘what happened to us,’?” A scoff falls from your lips, face falling into an unimpressed scowl, “Trust me when I say this. You are not important to me. You may have been, but you never will be again.”
What?
What were you saying? Implying?
He supposes that he didn’t have to be important to you. But he never thought you’d say such a thing. Never thought such a statement would leave your lips when regarding your future Olo’eyktan.
Not that he needed to mention his rank. It was something that followed him as a child, something that lingered in the back of all the friendships that he held. You had never acknowledged it though, he was ‘just Neteyam’ and he couldn’t be happier for that.
Before he can move to grab you again, to try and force you to explain your rash statement, you’re up and out of the kelku. He moves to stand but his body aches and he can’t move fast enough. By the time he calls out to you, he knows you’re gone.
How strange.
No matter. Neteyam’s sure that he’ll have plenty of opportunities to talk with you before the mating season begins. Everything can be straightened out and he can claim his rightful position by your side and influence your final decision.
If you were hard to get a hold of before, you were impossible now. Neteyam could rarely catch sight of you. When he did you were promptly out of his vision a moment later, as if you were a phantom of his imagination.
He tried speaking to your friends. Urging them to spill the secret of where you were spending your time. When that didn’t work he tried bribery, offering them an uninterrupted dance with him during the season.
They hadn’t given up where you were spending all your time, but they had told him how you never stayed in the same spot for too long. That you allowed your schedule to rotate frequently to prevent being seen. This was not useful, but he had already pressed his forearm to theirs and grabbed their elbow in the traditional signal of a deal before they gave the information.
When there was only a week left until the start of mating season, he took to more desperate measures.
Neteyam begged his father to place you in his hunting party again. Jake's reply was less than pleasing, “No can do son. Strict orders to keep the two of you out of each other's hair after that last spar.” Who cared how that ended up?! The two of you were adults and could move past that if they gave you the opportunity.
He asked his grandmother to speak to you when you went to her to be patched up. Mo’at sighed as she responded, “I will not get involved in your frivolous situation grandson.” Neteyam had scoffed, spewed something about how it clearly wasn’t frivolous to you, before he departed from the tent.
Next to suffer was Lo’ak. Despite how you had pushed him away, and refused to be seen around hometree with him, Neteyam knew that the two of you still hung out. As Lo’ak had been leaving the village one day Neteyam had stopped him, asking to tag along. “Sorry bro, not blowing up my spot for you.” had been Lo’ak’s carefree reply. What did he mean ‘blowing up his spot’? One would think that after all the heat Neteyam took for him, Lo’ak could do his big brother this one solid, but no matter there was still another path to try.
The final person he dared try was your mother. She was always nice to him, loving and caring whenever he stopped by the weavers circle. Neteyam knew it would be a long shot, but it was still important to try all his options, to just implore her to tell him what had gotten under your skin. But she denied him too, “Ma’ite’s business is her business. You will have to find out from her yourself.” At least she was nice enough to pair her words with a soft tone and a light smile.
What a shame. How did they expect him to solve this situation if you wouldn’t speak to him! How was he supposed to ward off potential mates if he couldn’t be in your vicinity!
The thoughts consumed him all throughout the first week of the season. Sure Neteyam had his fair share of suitors approaching him; plenty of young women, even some men, approaching him to converse and delve into their lives. He still made sure to keep an eye on you however, glancing over the shoulder of the person in front of him, turning his head in your direction as he itches the back of his neck, a few times even excusing himself as he sees you walk off.
The second week is when small gifts begin to be exchanged. He begins to get cuts of meat from Mekani. She delivers him the best, fattiest, pieces of sturmbeest and yerik meat. At first she delivers it raw, but as the week progresses she begins to cook it, glazing it in nectar, or roasting it with fruits.
Neteyam’s not interested. To eat the meat is to show signs of interest, but it’d be rude to just discard. So instead, he takes it to his friends, distributes it between Teylun and Li’ral; and he only slightly regrets it when they begin to sing Mekani’s praises.
Korvyn has been taking up your time. Not all of it, still allowing you to seek out other potential suitors, but he has certainly become bold in the last few weeks. He allows his tail to find your waist, to run it along the base of your own as the two of you talk. Tilts his head appropriately to show his interest in your stories.
There wouldn’t be any worry from Neteyam if you hadn’t been smiling so happily at him. Hadn’t inched closer where you sat perched against the log. Hadn’t presented Korvyn with a fresh harvest of rumaut that you had cut up yourself.
So the next morning Neteyam sets out, before the sun has risen over the horizon. He will bring back the best piece of sturmbeest meat, and then he is going to roast it slowly over the fire. When it is nearly done he is going to wrap it in a leaf with some fine roots, and glaze them both with honey, before allowing it to steam to perfection.
It would be perfect. A meal that he knew you consumed from childhood, perfected by his hands as the perfect distraction from other suitors.
Wait.
Wait.
What was he thinking? From other suitors? He was not trying to court you. Wasn’t trying to take a permanent, romantic, spot in your life.
Well. It wouldn’t be that bad.
He’d known you all your lives anyway. Been close until you were twelve. Your families liked each other, parents supporting each other in the war against the sky people. It wouldn’t be the worst scenario if he were to court you.
Plus who would challenge the future Olo’eyktan for someone's hand? It would be stupid, they wouldn’t have a chance. Who would want a simple hunter, a weaver, a gatherer, or a carver, instead of the future leader of the Omatikaya?
Teylun had said something similar to him just before mating season had started. Boasted that because of his title, he could obtain anyone he wanted, that he could probably get an older woman if he really wanted. Someone with more experience on everything, especially how to make him see stars in the privacy of their own kelku.
He was always more focused on the sexual part of things. On the physical level of affections, not on how they start, on the emotional base that makes everything more intense. But nonetheless, it was a great idea. He’d be able to ward off other suitors and maybe even encourage you to start seeing him how you once did again.
So Neteyam spends the entire day preparing the meal. Kneels over the roast until his back gains a twinge. Ensures that the glaze covers the entire meal nicely, in a perfectly even layer before setting it to properly settle into the meal.
And when he’s finally settled, finally believes that the meal is perfect, he wraps it tightly in woven cloths to seal the heat. Then he’s off to the cookfire. He steps past where his friends reside, faltering for only a moment until he sees that Korvyn has yet again taken the seat next to you, then he is back on his mission.
When he steps into the little bubble the two of you have cultivated neither of you pay him any mind. Your conversation flows, smooth despite his presence lingering in front of you both. Korvyn is in the middle of recounting how he learned to swim when his brother cast him into the river when Neteyam clears his throat.
The two of you turn towards the source of the noise. Korvyn lets a smile grace his features, always so friendly, but you just peer up at him. Your eyes go from the wide orbs that he’s used to, to half lidded at your disinterest.
Neteyam’s eyes are only on you, watching the subtle sway of your tail, the way the furry tip brushes against Korvyn’s. He observes how your chest covering leaves very little to the imagination, it makes his throat dry up until Korvyn’s voice rings out to his left.
“Neteyam, what can we do for you?”
So he clears his throat, lets some saliva coat his tongue, then speaks. “I wish to speak with her.” When no movement is made to leave the two of you alone he opens his mouth again, “Alone.”
“Oh. Right, of course!” Korvyn turns to you as he moves to get up, “I will see you later, kalintu.”
You let your hand grasp his bicep as he stands, allowing it to ghost over his skin until your hand rests in his. Neteyam can see the way your fingers flex as they hold Korvyns, can see the way his thumb rubs over your fingers before he inevitably steps away.
When he departs your face falls more than it already had. Even more so when Neteyam sits next to you. Your brow creases, frown tilting your lips downwards. And finally, he’s granted with your voice being directed at him, “What is it?”
“I prepared this for you.” Neteyam begins to uncover the food, neatly unwrapping the cloths from around it before he hands you the leaf. You stare at it, lifting it in your palms to test the weight before raising your head again.
“Thank you.”
“Open it.”
So you do, maneuver your fingers deftly to untie the twine that secured the leaf before beginning the actual process of unwinding the leaf. As you do a familiar sweet scent begins to flood your senses. You can tell what it is before it even comes into eyesight.
When it is finally revealed you can feel your mouth water. The delicious smell paired with delectable view sparks a hunger that you didn’t have before. But you couldn’t eat it, wouldn’t eat it, the implications were too great especially as anyone could see.
You mutter a soft, “Thank you,” before moving to rewrap the food. Neteyam shoots his hand out though, halting all movement from you.
“I wish for you to try it.”
It was dirty. A play that he shouldn’t be forcing right now, but Neteyam can feel Korvyn still lingering. He knows that he’s watching this whole interaction and Neteyam wants him to know that there’s competition. Worthy competition at that.
“You know I cannot. That we are not prospects for each other.”
“Just try it. I wish to know if I’ve improved on the taste from when we were children.”
A huff leaves your nostrils. Heavy and harsh, as a clear sign of your distaste for Neteyam’s methods. But the slight grumble in your stomach does just enough to convince you. You raise the meat to your lips, parting them just wide enough for a bite before tearing off a piece with your teeth.
You let it rest on your tongue for a moment. To let the glaze flutter over your tastebuds before the tender richness of the meat joins it. It’s good. Very good. Unfortunately, Neteyam had mastered what herbs and spices went best with the meat and honey.
Swallowing your pride you allow a quick, “It is good.” Before you move to wrap the meat again. This time Neteyam lets you, pleased that you’ve tried his food in front of the whole clan. Even more pleased that you couldn’t deny that it was delicious – you may not have verbally said it, but he could tell from the way your eye sparkled and the upward flick of your ear that it was just as you liked it.
The next few weeks went smoothly. Well, as smooth as they could in Neteyam’s eyes.
It had become clear to the clan that he and Korvyn were dueling for your attention. He had thought it would work in his favor, if everyone knew he was trying to court you, then they would encourage Korvyn to back off.
Instead, Korvyn's friends seemed to step up their encouragement. Neteyam heard whispers from them about how good of a pick he had made, how if the Olo'eyktans son wanted the same woman then she must've been the perfect choice. If Neteyam wanted to take a page out of Li'ral's book, then he would have used the statement to his advantage.
Ran to you and told you that Korvyn only spoke to you because he wanted to stake claim over something that Neteyam wanted. But before he could even let the thought form he heard Korvyn’s voice drift over, ‘that does not matter to me. I thought she was perfect before he decided to intercept.’ Great. He was a great, honest guy.
Neteyam really hopes that they can get along afterwards. That there wouldn't be any hard feelings when he took his rightful spot by your side. But he wouldn't be too upset if it didn't work out – the more distance between you two, the better.
As the time passed he began to appreciate you. At first it had been a distraction, to encourage others to stay away. But as he spent nights bringing you meals, rare flowers, dyes from rare fruits, even a couple of carved bone jewelry pieces, he got to know you again.
He relearned the sound of your voice – not the one he usually heard, the blunt, uninterested tone. But instead the light airy tone that you held in casual conversation.
Relearned how your outer eyelid begins to droop when you're tired. How you refuse to sleep when there's much left to do, and how your eyes begin to tear up in protest to your stubbornness.
Relearned how you'll allow your bare foot to scrape against the dirt when you find a pebble. Most would move their foot, kick the pebble away, or if they must, plant their foot on top of it and try to ignore the sensation. You instead, embrace it.
Relearned how observant you are. Even if you look to be immersed in a conversation, you're still tuned into everything around you. Your ears will flick back at particularly loud laughs, eyes will steal glances when people begin to move in your vicinity.
He feels as if he’s relearned you entirely. Cataloged every piece of you that was missing in the past twelve years.
You must have felt the same. Felt as if you came to understand him better. That every missed moment was now known and that you were as close as before.
Neteyam’s drifting thoughts led to him messing up his weaving. He had switched stitching styles midway and now the armband looked crooked and mangled. He grunts in anger before putting his fingers into motion to fix his mistake.
“What is wrong?”
His mothers voice rings out behind him. She was preparing for dinner, carving the roots and slicing the meat while Neteyam sat a few feet away. She was always so observant, her oldest son the easiest for her to read.
“Nothing is wrong mother.”
He can hear the knife she held being placed down on the stone she was cutting on. Can feel her body heat shifting closer to his. “Something is wrong. You are tense, hunching over your craft as if it must be shielded from the world.”
Neytiri's palm presses between his shoulder blades. It urges him to sit up straight.
“I want it to be perfect.”
He can feel his mother peering over his shoulder. It brings tension back into his body as he holds his breath. If his mother didn't like it he isn't sure what he would do.
“It will be.” Neytiri nods approvingly, “You do not need to rush.”
He did need to rush. Teylun told him this morning during training that he overheard that Korvyn had finished his courting gift. That could only mean that he would be presenting it to you tonight at the gathering, which meant that Neteyam had to finish his courting gift before then.
The two of you had been close last night. Closer than usual, dancing next to the fire with other couples. Body's swaying and twirling around each other, never straying far enough for someone to slip between you two. If Korvyn got to you first tonight, Neteyam was nearly sure that you would accept his gift, that he would lose you to him.
So he just smiles tightly at his mother. Nods in faux agreement that he had time to complete it, that he could be patient. He knew better though, and he knew he could complete it. Hours spent training in the ways of his people meant that he was well versed, he would complete this easily before the festivities tonight.
Normally armbands were fashioned with feathers as accent pieces. Two or three that would hang down the wearers bicep, usually of a color that meant something to them. He wants the feathers to be something that stand out; a nice rich orangy-red. Not only would it stand out against your blue skin, but it’d also draw attention, garner questions about who made it for you.
The thought brought a small smirk to his face. You, confirming the suspicions that the two of you were becoming something more, to any and all who asked.
As he approaches the fire he scans to look for you. You aren't at your normal log. You aren't settled where your friends are. Aren't nibbling on something near the edge of the forest.
Where were you?
Maybe you were late. He had heard that you were going to wash at one of the hot springs after training today, maybe you just hadn't made it back yet. That would make sense.
He takes up position with Teylun, Li’ral, and the rest of their friends. He tries not to get too comfortable, to be ready to jump up and head over to you as soon as you breach the forest.
Neteyam didn't want to seem like a prude by not partaking in the activities while he waited. So he drinks some wine and assumes a casual, loose position. He converses with his friends, shares his opinions on their prospects, answered when they question his stance with you.
The conversation almost leads him to miss your arrival. But his ears flick towards the sound of your voice instinctually. He allows his head to swerve with them, to watch as you greet your friends. You seemed happy, smiling as you caught up with them, he wondered what you were talking about.
It seemed wrong to interrupt. When the conversation died down he'd slowly meander over, politely ask your friends to excuse you, and drag you away from prying eyes. Then he could present you with the armband and implore you to give this courtship a chance.
As he ponders how the situation would go, Neteyam can see a figure approaching. When his eyes refocus he notices its Korvyn. He's approached you while you talk, urging you away as Neteyam was just daydreaming he would.
No.
No, no, no. Neteyam only has one thought coursing through his mind as he approaches – Korvyn would not ruin this for him.
“Korvyn! Can I speak to you for a moment?” Neteyam places a firm hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly.
Korvyn nods, “Of course.”
Neteyam drags him away; away from prying eyes, away from their friends, away from you.
“I heard you are going to give a courting gift tonight.”
“I am.”
Neteyam lets his tongue lave over his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth as he picks his words carefully. “I do not think it wise to do that.”
“Why is that?” Korvyn’s brow furrows, nose scrunching before he schools his expression back to neutral.
“I wish to court the same person. And-” Eywa is he really doing this? Yes, he was and there was no turning back now, “and it would be embarrassing for her to deny you in front of everyone.”
“She has said that she would deny me?”
Neteyam lets his lips press tightly together, “I have not asked. But it would be wise to think of all possibilities.”
With another pat to Korvyn's shoulder Neteyam turns to leave. He makes his way back to the fire, back to the music, back to you.
But you aren't there again. So he rushes to your friends, questions your absence like he should have done earlier. They tell him you were tired, that you had outdid yourself earlier and the hot spring loosening your muscles only made you more tired.
That is fine. Perfectly fine. He could see you in the morning, before training went underway. Drag you away to a more secluded area and confess his feelings then while he presents you with the armband he carefully crafted.
So he goes back to his kelku. Laid down on his sleeping mat and pulled a pelt over his body before drifting off to sleep. When he wakes up he's excited, happy to see where this day takes him. Ever the optimist.
But when he gets to the training grounds you are not there either. It is fine, you were probably late again – you said you were tired the night before, maybe you just slept in today.
Neteyam tries to keep his optimistic mood, to be the open and kind person that he should be. However it falters as the day goes on and he still does not see you.
You didn't make an appearance for the midday meal. Fine.
Didn't show up to the weavers circle to gossip with your mother and the other older women of the clan. Fine.
Weren’t up high on the ikran rookery tending to your ikran as if they were your child. Fine.
Maybe your father had sent you out to duties he was unaware of. Things that drew you away from the village. But then you weren’t at the fire later on. Not the cookfire or the celebration fire either.
And to be honest, it was still fine.
Neteyam was able to emotionally regulate himself to not fall into a spiral. To not consider that something bad had happened, or that someone else was able to steal you away in courtship before he could. You were probably resting, and if you were not resting maybe you had fallen ill.
So he lays his head down to rest another night, preparing to get up as the sun rises. He'd go to your kelku and ask for you before you had a chance to leave – not that you would be leaving, since you were sick, of course.
Upon arriving your mother greets him.
“Oh Neteyam! So good to see you – quite early though.. How is your mother? And your siblings, are they treating you well?”
A polite smile graces his face. He’d always been fond of your mother, and it’s important to answer all her questions diligently if he wanted to ensure she also liked him.
“I apologize for the intrusion. She is well, I believe she's preparing for a hunt right now. My siblings are also well – troublemakers, but they are well under my watchful eye.”
Your mother nods along as he speaks, showing her interest, “That is good. I am very happy to hear the Olo’eyktan’s family is doing well.” She wipes her knife with a cloth, sheathing it before her face lights up, “Ah - I apologize, you must be here for something important if you came so early.”
Neteyam smiles, your name leaves his lips and he smiles politely. When your mothers expression falls into something morphed from confusion Neteyam realizes his mistake and continues.
“I was hoping to speak to her.”
“She is gone for the day already, another busy schedule.”
“Do you know where I might be able to find her?”
Neteyam feels as if he can see the gears turning in your mothers head. It’s as if he’s watching her weigh the pros and cons of revealing your location. He hopes that the pros outweigh everything else and that she’ll guide him in the right direction but he’s not foolish – he knows family should stick together. It’s his fathers favorite saying anyway.
“I do not. She has taken on many responsibilities recently.”
Neteyam can feel his face fall before he can school his expression. Disappointment settles in his bones, weighing his shoulders down. But before he can fully allow himself to count today's pursuit as a loss, your mother speaks again.
“She may be with the gathers. Fishing while they gather fibers for weaving. However, I am not certain.”
A smile graces his face at that. It wasn’t a definite answer of your whereabouts, but it's good enough. There were many spots to gather fibers down the river, and the walk would give him ample time to perfectly craft his confession.
As he walks through the forest Neteyam allows himself to kneel and pick a few flowers. If all went well maybe you'd allow him to braid them into your hair. He could picture it now. The two of you sitting in an alcove of a fallen tree, the ambiance of the local fauna surrounding you, talking about any and everything that came to mind as Neteyam weaved your braided hair into other patterns to incorporate the flowers as well.
Sounds of rushing water and muffled voices force him out of his daydream. Arriving to the river means he has to attune himself to everything – he’d hate to miss you because you were on the other side of the river, or if the group you were with ended up being more inland.
When he passes groups Neteyam puts on a proper face. He smiles, greets the clan members – sometimes he helps them with picking the fibers, or hauling a catch. When he comes upon the third group, he spots you nocking an arrow a few paces away.
After you release the arrow, he calls out to you. He watches as your yellow eyes snap to his figure. You allow your head to fall into a slight nod of acknowledgement before wading out to retrieve your catch.
Neteyam steps slowly, as if he is trying to not startle an animal. His hands reach out in front of him, trying to show that he means no hard as you yank the arrow from the octofins body. When you toss the fish into a basket filled with the rest of your kills, he finally approaches.
“Can I steal you from fishing for a few moments?”
He can see the way your tongue rolls over your top teeth beneath your lips. The way your eyes narrow just slightly, before you motion towards the forest.
Good. The denser flora would better muffle your conversation from prying ears. He wanted this to be a more intimate moment, and he’s glad to see that you share the sentiment.
Neteyam feels like a child with how he brambles behind you. His feet snap twigs, his hands take ages to move the vines from his vision, and his heart is pounding in his chest. Any sense of preparation flees when you reach a clearing that you deem good enough.
“Speak.”
Not the joyous greeting he had hoped for, but it was fine, he could work with it. Perhaps you were just stressed about bringing back enough fish.
“How have you been? I missed you at the festivities the past few nights.”
You scoff, “I am fine. I have been busy – I am currently busy as you just saw. What did you come all this way for?”
“I wish to give this to you, so you can carry a piece of me with you always.” Before Neteyam can begin to dig into the satchel that rests tied to his tewng on his hip, a snarl from you halts his movement.
“Do not humiliate me. I will not allow it, not again.”
“I would never. These past few weeks have been very special to me. I feel as if I have gained ma txeylan back, as if we had never grown apart.”
Your lips tightly purse together, and you nod. This is not how Neteyam thought it would go. He believed that you would share his sentiment, that you would elaborate on how it felt from your perspective. Did someone else get to you first?
“Do you not feel the same.. Did–did you agree to pursue someone else already?”
“Oh you are just so full of yourself! Can’t you see that?” You bellow, “You toss me aside for some new shiny friends, just to act like it’s my fault that we aren’t friends anymore. And now you bring up Korvyn? After you’ve forced your rank so that he does not court me?”
Neteyam allows his brow to crease. “What do you mean?”
“The other night! He had approached me to speak before you dragged him away, and yesterday morning I hear that he's been asked to stay away by the future Olo’eyktan.”
“No. No, not that.” He waves his hand dismissively, before looking back at you, “I did not toss you aside.”
“After your iknimaya. When Teylun first approached he called me a child. Then you brushed me off until your dream hunt, and then you only laughed at me and called me a child yourself!”
Realization dawned on his face. Much had happened in the past years, so much that he had buried that memory in his head, refused to allow it to see the light of day.
“I… I am so sorry.” You huff a laugh, disbelieving smile adorning your features before Neteyam continues, “I was taken with the praise that was being bestowed upon me, blinded by their perceptions of who I was that I didn’t consider how rude and childish my actions were.”
“Even if that were true, you only started taking an interest in me when you saw others approach – not because you truly wanted to reconnect.”
“It started like that, but I have always enjoyed our time together.” Neteyam hopes you can hear the earnestness in his tone.
He tries to assess the non vocal signs you give him. The way your ears are slightly tilted back in annoyance, the way your tail is lashing angrily, how your fingers dig into your elbows where you hold your arms together. And despite your standoffish stance, you don't snap at him again.
“Actions must be paired with your words. Do not embarass me.”
A smile graces his lips, overjoyed that you're giving him a real opportunity, “You wont regr–”
“If you try to humilate me again the beating you recieve will be worse than the last.”
“Of course.” The smile falls a bit, but he cannot shake it from his face entirely. “May I help you bring back the fish you have caught?”
The thought dances around your mind before you shake your head, “No. You may begin with whatever you're trying to achieve tomorrow. Let me fish in peace.”
Not wanting to ruin his chances, Neteyam listens. Withdrawing from the area bidding the lingering clan members a goodbye before he begins his trek back through the forest. It hadn't gone as he planned, but you hadn't taken away his opportunity. Hadn't sealed and locked your heart away like one of the pressurized doors at the human outpost.
He hoped that his luck would play out. That he would be able to charm you into feeling the same way for him. But time would only tell.
Everyday Neteyam worked on something. Something to impress you. Something to show he cared. That he considered you as more than a prize to win.
At first they were simple things.
A nice feather to tag your arrows with.
Materials to help you craft a stronger grip for your knife.
Polished rocks that could be carved down into something to adorn your body or be used as decoration.
But Neteyam knew those things would only mean so much. Deep down he knew that anyone could retrieve those items for you – he had to distinguish himself somehow, to show how much better he was for you then any of the other candidates.
So the gifts progressively got more elaborate.
When you carved yourself a new bow, he weaved fibers together to make you a string to match its fury.
When the two of you somehow ended up in the same hunting party, he placed you in prime positions. No longer watching for unseen stampedes, but now being the one to arrive at hometree with the delight of knowing the clan would feast on your kill tonight.
He spent time making new meal combinations. Picking the ripest fruit to pair with savory mushrooms. He’d scour for ferns to crush into spices for meats. Swim out to rocks in the middle of lakes and rivers to catch the bigger fish that resided there.
Neteyam wished to make you clothes, jewelry, shawls, anything that could adorn your body. He wanted others to look at the craftsmanship and question where you found the time to make something so intricate when you were so busy. He wished for a deep purple tint to find your cheeks when you admitted that Neteyam made them for you, that he somehow found time in his even busier schedule to make you such detailed gifts. But he knew he had to wait – that he should wait, at least until you accept his courting.
So until then he continues with other acts.
He makes mental notes of beautiful hidden alcoves that he sees on patrol. Which he later begs you to accompany him to. Some are in the forest, hidden behind vines and trees but bright with glowing flowers and moss. Others are in the floating mountains, lush green spots that contain shallow bodies of water for the two of you to lounge in after a long day.
Most importantly, well most important in Neteyam's mind, he makes more of an effort to listen and also show you that he heard you.
When he asks about your day, he makes sure to delve into the little details about what fibers you're using for your weavings. Then the next morning more miraculously arrive outside your kelku.
When you state that a meal didn't come out as good as you hoped because the fruit you used wasn't of the rarest quality because you didn't want to scale the mountain for it, Neteyam makes sure that not only the fruit, but the meat and the nectar you were using show up with him the next day. You tried to take it from him with a polite apology, but he insisted that the two of you cooked together. He couldn't stop himself from getting caught up on the fact that you let him feed you when taste testing the meal.
When you complained others speaking about you, Neteyam set them straight.
To’lei said that the future Olo’eyktan couldn't have a carbon copy of himself as a mate, that he needed someone with a slightly different personality. So he politely reminded her that his mother not only matched, but exceeded in some senses, his fathers personality and their leadership has been strong and prosperous.
Ulkan mentioned how the two of you had always butted heads, that this complete change did not make sense. Neteyam informed him that people can change and mature, but also that mistakes and misunderstandings happen and those are mendable wounds.
And before Teylun and Li'ral could even think of making a comment Neteyam took the initiative to speak to them. He tried to not dwell on the past, to blame them for his past mistakes, but he did make it clear that they would have to respect you from now on, along with more of the clan's women. Specifically for you however he made it clear that it is not to be because of his interest in you, but because they can acknowledge your skills and prowess in what you do.
After weeks of changing his ways, of proving himself to you Neteyam began to think that it would not work. That you wouldn’t ever take him seriously and all of this was for naught. Sure, you had softened – allowed him to be around you more, laughed freely, and teased him as you once did. But that didn't mean you'd give him a real chance at proving how good of a mate he'd be.
But one morning as he's making his way to the training grounds he sees you already there. You’re teaching some of the children how to properly hold their bows – what stance their feet should be in, how to twist their hips, and how to line their shots. That isn't unusual, the children loved to learn from you and you didn't view it as a hindrance as long as they listened.
What was unusual was the bright orange and red feathers that adorned your bicep, upon trailing his eyes up a bit more Neteyam could see that they were attached to a very familiar pattern.
He couldn't stop the smile from gracing his face. The boyish grin bringing a sparkle to his eyes as he approached calling your name.
“You accept?”
You startle. Wave the children off dismissively, and huffing a bit when they don't disperse easily because of their nosey habits. But then you turn to him fully and nod.
“I am willing to try. It is as if you brought back the aspects of the boy I grew up with and paired them with the actions of a man.”
“That was my goal.” His hands reach towards your hips but they hover instead of landing, “May I touch you?”
When you nod again he allows his hands to fall. His thumbs begin soothing over the skin they rest on, “How about a kiss too? I promise I will not disappoint you.”
Instead of answering you allow your lips to press to his. It's brief, nothing to cheer or shout over, but it's everything to Neteyam. It's proof that all his months of trying have now progressed into something palpable, and it means that his feelings are reciprocated. When he moves to kiss you again, you press a hand to his chest halting his movements.
“There are children around.”
“It is nothing they have not seen from their parents.”
“Do not be hasty. How about we go flying tonight, and we can… continue then?”
Neteyam nods eagerly, dislodges himself from you and begins to make his way across the training grounds. If he were to stay nearby with this recent revelation hanging in the air he wouldn't be able to contain himself.
So he strides away, takes to sharpening a spear with an even wider grin than before adorning his features. He cannot wait for the future that he is so sure will happen – mating before Eywa, the ceremony with the clan, the births of your children, and eventually falling into the roles of leaders.
He should make a stop by the spirit tree to thank Eywa later. Neteyam is sure that she has had a role in this. That she had opened your heart and mind to the idea of him, and that without her he would have never been able to atone for his past mistakes, and never had won you back.
He would have never become important in your eyes again if not for her.
Maybe he would even take you - to prove that she had blessed this communion. Or maybe not, he should save that for when you consummate the union anyways.
Translation:
Eveng - child
Ma txeylan- my best friend
Rumaut - cannonball fruit
Ma’ite - my daughter
Kelku - home
Kaltxì - hello
Tewng - loincloth
Skxawng - idiot/moron
Kalintu - sweet person
a/n: lowk didn't love the ending of this but i wanted to write it instead of figuring out my ten minute presentation thats due in a few days or studying for my super important exam on monday soooo it is what it is
Dividers by @cafekitsune
tag: @skepticalvoidhedgehog
pls like/comment/reblog/come into my inbox and tell me what u think of the fic <3
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
summary: neteyam keeps coming to your tent; first with wounds, then excuses, then nothing at all. teasing and care turn to trust and unspoken feelings. it isn't until he returns with a serious injury that the truth finally unfolds.
warnings: pure yearning. mostly fluffy and a bit of pining, but there is also some angst.
word count: 1.9k
tsakarem - tsahìk-in-training.
paysyul flower - water lily.
The first time he limps into your healing tent, he’s all arrogance and sharp edges.
A gash runs down his thigh; deep enough to need stitching, shallow enough that he insists it’s nothing.
"Sit," you command, voice steady despite the way his towering frame fills the space.
He smirks, blood dripping between his fingers, but obliges. "Didn’t take you for the bossy type, tsakarem," he teases surveying your features for a reaction.
You ignore him, gathering yalna bark and spider silk. When you kneel beside him, his breath hitches, just once, as your fingers skim his skin.
"This will sting," you warn.
He leans in, voices a low rumble. "I like it when it stings."
You swallow hard.
With practiced care, you smooth the thick paste along the wound, nimble fingers gentle against his skin. Taking the thread, you begin stitching the edges closed, each careful pull precise and steady, your focus unwavering as you work to ease the pain and ensure the wound heals cleanly.
He barely moves beneath your touch, jaw clenched as he watches you from beneath his lashes. You murmur soft reassurances as you work, reminding him to breathe, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin whenever his muscles tense.
When the last stitch is tied off, you press a clean cloth over the wound, checking your work with a quiet nod, before sending him off.
⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹
Three eclipses later, he’s back – this time with a bruised rib.
"Fell off a branch," he mumbles, wincing as you prod the swelling.
You arch a brow suspiciously. "You? The great warrior… fell?”
His laughter is warm, and closer than necessary. "Maybe I just wanted to hear you scold me again."
Your hands hesitate over his ribs. His heartbeat thrumming beneath your fingertips. “You need to be more careful, Neteyam,” you chastise, unimpressed at his new-found clumsiness.
Your hands still, clicking your tongue. “One day I won’t be here to patch you up.”
You reach for the salve anyway, smoothing it over the bruise with gentle pressure. He hisses, then relaxes, leaning subtly into your touch as if the pain is worth it just to be here; under your careful hands and watchful gaze.
His smile falters, just a fraction, at your words. “Yeah,” he murmurs, quieter now. “But you are now.”
A soft smile tugs at your lips. You glance up at him, warmth settling in your chest as your thumb traces a soothing circle near the bruise.
“You enjoy this too much,” you mutter, face falling serious, trying to sound stern.
“Maybe,” he replies softly, eyes fixed on your face. “But I trust you.”
⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹
The next time, his excuse is thinner than mist. You have to suppress the urge to roll your eyes.
A shallow scratch across his palm; barely deserving of the poultice you press to it.
But when your fingers linger, he turns his hand, his touch grazing yours, almost – almost – intertwining. The contact sends a quiet jolt up your arm, unwelcome yet undeniable.
“Tell me, healer,” he murmurs, fingers brushing over your knuckles, voice low and deliberate. “Do you tend to all the warriors… or just me?”
Your pulse stutters. “Just the reckless ones,” you scoff, forcing a lightness into your tone as you dab the salve more firmly than necessary.
He doesn’t pull away. Instead, his grin widens, all trouble and fangs. “Lucky me.”
You finally look up at him then, catching the way his eyes linger – soft, searching, entirely too familiar. For a fleeting moment, neither of you moves, the air between you taut with something unspoken, before you clear your throat and tug your hand free, pretending your heart isn’t racing.
“All done.”
He gives you a knowing look, head tilting slightly. Your gaze does not meet his, and your fingers writhe gently in your lap. He rises silently uttering a careful ‘thank you’ before disappearing behind the flaps of your tent.
⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹
Then comes the night he arrives with no wound at all.
Just a single, perfect paysyul flower – rare, delicate, glowing softly in the dark.
"For you," he says, uncharacteristically quiet.
You stare at his outstretched hand offering you the delicate bundle of petals. Your body is enveloped by a warmth akin to the sun-soaked shallows of the forest, where the water holds heat long after the day has faded; it paints your face with a faint violet tint, and causes a familiar fluttering sensation in your chest.
His fingers brush yours as you take the flower, his touch too deliberate to be accidental. The petals glow softly between your hands, casting shimmering reflections across his face, illuminating the quiet intensity in his golden eyes.
"You… brought me this?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper.
He steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him, and can catch the scent of earth and morning dew clinging to his skin.
"Couldn’t think of a better excuse to see you," he admits, voice rough at the edges. His thumb grazes your wrist before he adds, softer. "Missed you."
The confession lingers in the air between you, fragile as the flower’s glow.
And then –
His hand slides up to cradle your jaw, tilting your face toward his.
"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, lips hovering so near yours you can taste his breath, sweet with the nectar of the forest.
You don’t.
The moment hangs, heavy with anticipation. His thumb is tracing circles on your jaw, his gaze locked on your lips. You can feel his breath against your skin, warm and just slightly desperate.
And then, from outside the camp, the sound of footsteps and a familiar voice rings through the night…
"Neteyam!"
His head snaps up, eyes flashing with irritation, before he lets out a sigh, almost annoyed. "Damn it,” he mumbles with a small huff.
"What is it?" he calls back, not taking his hand off your cheek. Your skin burns where he holds you, blush deepening into a plum hue.
A few moments later, a figure appears behind the tent flap. Lo’ak peers curiously, his gaze flicking between you and his brother for a beat. He arches a brow, taking in the sight of Neteyam’s fingers now shifted underneath your chin, before an amused smile creeps onto his face.
"What’s this?" he asks, feigning surprise. "Am I interrupting something here?"
Neteyam shoots him a warning glare. "What do you want, Lo’ak?"
Lo’ak doesn’t miss your reaction, or the way Neteyam’s grip tightens slightly, his thumb pressing into your skin like he’s silently staking a claim.
A slow, shit-eating grin spreads across Lo’ak’s face.
"Ohhh," he drawls, crossing his arms. "So this is where you’ve been sneaking off too lately." His eyes flick to you, mischief dancing in them. "Funny how you only seem to get hurt when she’s on healing duty, bro."
Neteyam’s jaw clenches – hard.
"Lo’ak," he growls, voice low and dangerous.
But his little brother just laughs, backing away with his hands raised in mock surrender. "Alright, alright! Sorry to interrupt... whatever this is." He wiggles his eyebrows. "But dad wants you for something."
And with that, he ducks out of the tent, leaving behind only the sound of his fading laughter and tension thick enough to choke on.
⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹
Weeks pass.
Neteyam stops showing up with flimsy excuses. The playful tension between you fades into something quieter, made of lingering glances, fleeting brushes of fingers – but nothing more.
Then, one night, the tent flaps burst open.
Lo’ak stumbles in, panting, Neteyam slumped heavily against him. Blood soaks through his chest wrap, his breaths ragged. Your stomach plummets.
"What happened?" you demand, already moving, hands steady despite the panic clawing up your throat.
"Stupid ikran hunt," Lo’ak grits out, lowering him onto the mat. "Tried to show off – got clipped mid-dive."
Neteyam’s eyes flutter open, hazy with pain. But when they land on you, his lips twitch weakly. "...Missed you," he slurs, delirious.
Your hands tremble as you peel back the fabric, revealing the deep gash across his ribs.
"You idiot," you whisper, pressing a dapophet pad to the wound. "You could’ve died."
His fingers brush your wrist, barely a ghost of touch. "Worth it… to see you… scowl like that."
Lo’ak groans. "Oh my Eywa, half-dead and he’s still flirting."
You ignore him, focusing on the way Neteyam’s breath hitches when your fingers trace his skin; gentle, but firm.
"Don’t you dare bleed out on me," you murmur, voice thick.
His hand finds yours, squeezing weakly. "...Wouldn’t dream of it, baby."
Your heart pounds out a desperate rhythm as you work, trying to stay focused on the task at hand, but he keeps making it worse. Every ragged breath, every brush of skin, every stolen glance sends adrenaline surging through your veins.
Lo’ak watches quietly from the side, his amusement replaced with concern. He knows better than to distract you, but his eyes flit between you and his brother with growing curiosity.
Neteyam’s gaze is hazy, fever-bright, but still filled with an almost reverent fascination. His fingers find your wrist again, a little firmer this time. The salve stings, but Neteyam doesn’t flinch. His eyes stay locked on yours, even as sweat beads at his temples, even as his fingers twitch against the mat.
You lean closer, checking the stitching. "You’re lucky it didn’t puncture your lung," you mutter, trying to ignore the way his breath hitches when your fingers graze his bare ribs.
His hand suddenly catches yours, pressing your palm flat against his chest, right over his pounding heartbeat.
"Feel that?" he rasps.
You freeze.
"That’s you," he continues, voice rough with pain and something else entirely. "Every time you touch me – every damn time – it does that."
Your breath catches.
Lo’ak, still hovering near the entrance, makes a strangled noise. "Okay, I’m out. I’ll just– go tell Dad you’re not dead."
The tent flaps swish shut behind him, a silence following.
Neteyam’s thumb strokes your wrist. "Stay," he murmurs.
"I’m your healer," you whisper, trembling. "I have to."
He shakes his head, wincing at the movement. "Not… what I meant."
And then – weak but determined – he tugs you down until your forehead rests against his, his breath mingling with yours.
"Stay after," he clarifies, voice raw. "When I’m not just… another wound to fix."
Your pulse thrums where your skin meets his.
Outside, the wind rustles the leaves. Inside, something fragile and long-avoided finally snaps.
You let out a breath shakily, his words settling deep within you. He had stumbled his way into your tent – your life – and had made a home out of your heart.
"I could never leave you," you begin. "You know that. I've always been here– waiting." You take another breath, letting it fill your lungs before you continue, "I will always be with you.” Another breath.
“I see you.”
His grip tightens around your hand, desperate and reverent, words feeling as though they are caught in his throat.
“Say it again," he breathes, voice cracking.
You don’t hesitate.
“I see you.”
A shudder runs through him – half pain, half relief –before he tugs you even closer, your lips hovering just above his, sharing the same air, the same heartbeat.
"Took you long enough," he rasps, but there’s no bite to it, just warmth; just yours. “I see you.”
And when his eyes finally flutter shut from exhaustion, his fingers stay tangled with yours.
aged up!neteyam x fem!omatikaya!reader — fluff ! — not requested
neteyam has never denied you of anything.
whether it was the sweetest fruit in the tallest tree, or the prettiest seashell on the ocean floor, you would have it in the palm of your hand within minutes. oh great mother, if you asked for the brightest star to be plucked from the sky itself, neteyam would build a shelf for you to display it. he would then proceed to acquire the star for you, all within the span of a few hours so he could be home in time for dinner with you.
it was well known that he has always been a man who provided for those he loved. nothing made neteyam feel more fulfilled than knowing his loved ones were taken care of. most importantly, he loved providing your needs and your wants. he could reject others if he pleased, but never you. in any and every way possible, it was clear to all that neteyam loved you most.
so yes, neteyam has never denied you of anything, but the first time it happened felt like a sign from eywa that the end of the world was near.
the end of your world, to be specific.
“wait, so what do you actually mean when you say ‘no’?”
uttering the word felt foreign on your tongue, just as it felt foreign hearing it slip from neteyam’s lips.
“what i mean is that i will not do what you ask.”
“but you have never not done what i asked before,” you accused him with a frown. you were well aware that you sounded and looked like a petulant child, but you genuinely could not recall a single time that your desires were dismissed so easily by your lover.
“that’s because you never asked me this,” neteyam replied, continuing to busy himself with washing the fruit he gathered before eclipse. you always liked to have a sweet tea after dinner, and he knew how to prepare it best.
“this is very strange,” you state plainly, looking him up and down for signs of wounds or disease. you thought that perhaps your husband being ill was the only plausible explanation for his behaviour. you were not even aware up until this moment that neteyam even knew how to say the words to refuse you.
he simply laughed in return.
“you’re being dramatic, baby.”
as you opened your mouth to rebut again, a low chittering sound interrupted you. the sudden noise stopped almost as soon as it began, but neteyam’s ears twitched and your eyes widened. with the indication that he heard it, you knew that you were very much fucked. still, you pretended to not hear anything.
“dramatic, teyam? but you know you never say ‘no’ to me!”
you had hoped neteyam would be distracted enough by your exclamation, but your mate was a skilled hunter who had a tendency to follow his killer instincts. unfortunately for you, those instincts led his narrowed eyes away from your pretty face, and towards the corner of your home.
watching his gaze, you subtly tried to step in front of it to continue your argument. unfortunately for you, the basket began to move and the chittering started again. with a few calculated steps, neteyam easily stepped around you to get closer.
another tendency that neteyam had, which you learned quite quickly since meeting him, was to create distance between you and anything he deemed as a threat. seeing him switch his grasp on the harmless fruit knife, easily turned into a warrior’s weapon, made you jump to action.
“do not even think about it! that’s the fruit knife!”
“i’ll make you a new one.”
his outstretched arms prevented you from moving around him, already having made himself a living na’vi shield. while there wasn’t a big difference in your height, he still had a broader physique due to his father’s human genes. usually his broad shoulders were a great advantage for you in many other situations, but it was clear that they were a very big disadvantage in this case. so, you settled for wrapping your arms around his middle to hold him back instead.
with the right execution, you knew it would distract him enough to lead to one of those aforementioned other situations instead. after all, he was only a simple man. well, a simple man who never denied you of anything up until now.
“i don’t want a new one! teyam, this one is perfectly fi-”
“oh, you have got to be kidding me,” neteyam’s voice cut you off.
in your struggle to prevent any casualties involving your beloved fruit knife, you failed to notice that the blanket covering the wooden basket fell, revealing its contents. at a glance, you saw he still held the weapon, though you knew there would be no need for it anymore. you nervously chuckled as you felt the tension slightly ease from neteyam’s body.
“i can explain!” you manoeuvred your body so now you were the living na’vi shield of the basket, and faced your mate with the sweetest smile you could muster. “let’s calm down!”
“baby,” neteyam remained alert, still eying the movement behind your shoulder. “why is there a prolemuris in our house?”
you began your explanation as you delicately gathered the prolemuris in question into the fallen blanket.
“tuk and i found her earlier stuck in a tree. she was crying so loud, tied up in vines,” you efficiently wrapped the animal like a baby as you spoke softly, not wanting to startle her. “then, teyam, we couldn’t find her family! and tuk said she couldn’t bring her home after what happened with the thanator cub last time…” you trailed off not knowing how to plead your case.
neteyam continued for you in exasperation, “so you brought her here.”
“so i brought her here!” you repeated in agreement.
“you do realise that tuk isn’t a child anymore, right? she’s already eighteen but she’ll be spoiled forever if you keep on babying her,” neteyam dropped the knife on the table, and gave you a pointed look to which you rolled your eyes at. it was easy to detect neteyam’s affection for his little sister seeping into his voice. though they were in their adult years already, you can tell that he still remembers how it was like to carry her in his arms. eywa, even you still remember often seeing tuk carried in his arms.
much like how you were carrying the baby prolemuris right now.
“i didn’t say i wanted to keep her with us forever, teyam,” you kept your tone gentle but didn’t look at him, continuing to coo at the animal like it was your own blood. “it’s only until we find her family.”
realisation quickly dawned on him why you were so adamant on changing his earlier ‘no’ into a ‘yes’, but you didn’t see how neteyam’s expression softened. he knew since you were both young that you had a big heart. your heart was strong too, without a doubt, but what stood out to neteyam most was how you always made space to nurture those around you. even during your adolescence, others had viewed it as a weakness, but all neteyam saw was strength.
big heart.
it is always easier to be cruel than to be kind, and you unfailingly choose to be kind every day. as the future olo’eyktan, neteyam knew from the start that there was nobody else he wanted to lead the clan with.
he watched as you settled back down on the floor with the prolemuris nuzzling her little head against your chest. the sight would send any man to his knees, but neteyam knew he had to at least attempt to stand his ground. only the great mother knew how fast you would be able to change his mind.
“but when you asked me for permission to have a pet,” he moved to sit in front of you, connecting the dots with ease. “you didn’t expect that i would say ‘no’, which is why you panicked, hm?”
you did not bother giving him a response. the baby in your arms was looking up at you with her big eyes, almost as if she was begging not to be sent away. you pouted back at her, paying no attention to neteyam.
“because you already had one hidden beside where we sleep!” he continued, pleased that he finally understood your earlier dramatics. “but i still do not want a pet, by the way.”
“it is alright, neteyam. then you may sleep elsewhere, because she is staying with me,” you snarled, your maternal instincts to protect the creature prevailing. “perhaps you can go to your parents’ kelku for a while?”
“what?”
many things were wrong with what you just said.
first, you said his full name. you only ever say his full name when you want to stop talking to him. sometimes you slip it into conversations when you’re tired, or when you don’t want to be rude and flat out say that he was annoying you. while not always a bad thing, it was definitely not looking good for neteyam right now.
second, not sleeping anywhere near you? he must have hit his head after collecting the fruit for your tea because this was surely a hallucination. neteyam racked his brain to recall the last time he ever got a full night’s sleep without you beside him. he concludes that he was probably around sixteen years old.
lastly, to send him away to his parents was the final blow. this must be a prank, or maybe you were the one that hit your head while saving your new friend. why did you have to make things more difficult for him? you even said ‘for a while’, you harsh woman. he would be lucky if his mother and tuk never heard about this, or else he’d never hear the end of it.
neteyam thought that there was no way you were being serious until he saw you completely ignore his reply, and playfully rubbed your nose against the infant’s like it was the most natural thing to do in the world.
neteyam rubbed his temples, feeling a headache starting to form.
“baby, you’re killing me here.”
“then you better start packing a bag, neteyam!” you snapped at him with ice in your eyes, then continued coddling the animal with the ferocious fondness of a mother.
the backs of his eyes were beginning to hurt. he thought he would last longer than five minutes but neteyam was going to break. the mighty warrior would be defeated by the love of his life who knew exactly how to bend him to her will.
he stood and made himself his own portion of tea before turning around and offering yours in your favourite cup. it was one of his first courting gifts for you, a simple wooden little thing with carved stars that held the perfect amount of drink. the memory of his clumsy teenage whittling was still engraved in his mind, thoughts of wanting to impress you permanently instilled in him. even now, neteyam’s chest swelled with pride every time you use it, knowing you treasured it as much as he treasured you.
he observed your ears flattening against your head, and your eyes drifting from the infant to the steaming tea. its sweet scent filled both your noses, and neteyam knew his peace offering would be accepted once you took a sip.
only you did not sip. instead, you only resumed murmuring reassurances to the baby beast in your arms. even through his confusion, he caught something that sounded much too similar to ‘cuddling’.
neteyam would be damned if you were cuddling a prolemuris tonight instead of him so with a heavy sigh and a quick prayer to the great mother, he admitted defeat.
“only until we find her family.”
neteyam watched your ears twitch, and knew you heard him. then he decided to add, “but she is not sleeping beside us.”
eventually, you placed down your sleepy companion to lay beside you. then, you faced your mate, still choosing not to speak. you were looking at him as if you were expecting more, but neteyam spotted your hands inching towards your cup of tea.
he sighed once again, glancing at the chittering lump wrapped in the blanket you wove, “and i will personally make a bed for her.”
before he had even finished his sentence, you already launched yourself to hug him across the low table. with all your limbs tangled together, neteyam knew he finally said the right thing.
“thank you, teyam! she’ll be so good! thank you!”
hearing you happily squeal was enough to make neteyam grin and nuzzle his face into you neck, but hearing his nickname come from your lips was a sweeter victory.
you soon removed your arms from around his neck and took a sip of the cold tea, savouring it like it was still hot, and gave him a peck on the cheek. at the sight of his exaggerated frown, you decided to kiss his pout away, thinking it was the least that neteyam deserved after what you put him through.
“i can’t kiss you any more, teyam, we have company.”
later that evening, after many stolen kisses from his end, neteyam comfortably laid beside you in your shared hammock. just as he began to fall asleep, he felt your body shift and a slight dip in your side. he was about to protest, knowing exactly where the added weight came from, but neteyam heard you softly whisper in the dark and stopped himself.
“he’s sweet, isn’t he, ‘evi? i told you he never says ‘no’ to me.”
oh, you and your big heart might end up being the death of him, but neteyam knew he could never deny you of anything ever again.
~~~~~
a/n: if you made it this far, thank you for reading my first little piece of writing! a bit of crack and self-indulging fluff never hurt anyone, right? pls let me know your thoughts & check out my pinned ! <3
you aren't expecting anyone in your secluded little workroom-bedroom at this hour. so when the you hear a familiar ping of someone outside the door, authorising their fingerprint to enter, you sit up from where you had been slumped over. working silently on a sample. only three people have access to your room. three na'vi siblings to be very specific. your eyes widen when a taller lithe figure bends down, stepping inside carefully. "neteyam?" the oldest awkwardly holds his bow, hunching slightly. everything, including him felt too big for such a small place. "spider sent me...he needs a few spare masks" you stand up. nodding quickly. the two of you are well-aware of spider's and lo'ak's attempts of making sure you both have alone time together. its obvious to everyone. he likes you. you like him. but its never addressed out loud, although completely evident in actions. you think he's awfully stiff and he struggles to maintain eye contact. nevermind, you rummage through the storage boxes, finding a couple masks. "your..uhm..i like the colour" neteyam blurts out. you turn around confused until he shyly points down. eyes nervously moving.
and you nearly die of embarassment. your panties. neteyam sully is pointing at your blue panties. they peek from under the oversized shirt you'd thrown on after fieldwork. thats what you forgot. pants! and to make matters worse, the na'vi says more. "...very pretty... different" bending your knees to hide them shyly. "...loincloth?" he questions, fascinated by the piece of fabric which looks different from what they wear. his hands reach out to take the masks, looking down at you with lovesick eyes. "panties." and he repeats the new word he's learnt under his breath.
"blue suits you..." neteyam whispers, leaning down. he presses a kiss to your cheek. promising you before he leaves with a smile on his face. "I shall ask kiri to make you a loincloth, just like mine"
