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erenjaegerwifee · 25 days ago

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Love Of My Life (part one)

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Avatar!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, explicit language, smut, p in v, squirting, oral receiving (m&f), spanking, kissing, mentions of gunshots, blood, bleeding, death, exclusive relationships. Word Count: 28.3k

Disclaimer: All my characters are aged-up! If you have an issue with that, do not interact with my account or any of my posts.

Part two (coming soon)

Blood soaked the stone beneath him.

Neteyam lay sprawled on the jagged rock, gasping. The sea sprayed cool waves splashing water against his skin. The bullet wound buried in his chest burned like fire, but the real pain was deeper, each breath becoming harder to take. He tried to listen to what his parents where saying, to Lo’ak and Tsireya, but their words fell on almost deaf ears. He could hear their voices mixed with the distant chaos; shouts, gunshots, even the churn of the ocean, but everything was fading behind the haze of the pain.

He turned his head looking around maybe if he looked at them, he could focus on what they were saying. Neteyam is not anything if not determined. He wanted to do whatever he can even though he was currently in the worst shape of his life.

“Neteyam…your sisters…hold on my son!” His mothers voice rang from what he could pick up.

“Hold on boy…help is coming” his father’s voice was vulnerable clearly having a rough time keeping it together.

Lo’ak did not even try to hide his sobs as he held onto neteyam tightly, whether his hands could reach, “please don’t leave me…. sorry…sorry…never run off again!” His sobs and shouts were the loudest.

Tsireya didn’t say much, quiet sobs by his feet as she gave his family space, but she was one of his best friends now, she cried, and she cared about him so much. He didn’t want her first experience with war and death to be her best friend dying.

Lo’ak didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to go, but his sisters were in danger, and he knew where they were being held. Jake was adamant they get them back before more of his children were injured, before neteyam died so they could say goodbye. Tsireya, she didn’t not want to be alone running behind Lo’ak to keep her safe. Neytiri angrily bonded with her ikran taking off in the sky, her wild eyes looking back at him once before taking off.

They thought he had already gone to Eywa when his eyes shut, and his breathing leveled when he tried to calm his heart. They thought he was no longer with them. They did not see the way his fingers twitched as he tried to raise his hand, he wanted to call out to them; to tell them he had den gone yet. But the strength was not there

Now Neteyam was alone, they vanished, and he didn’t know what to make out of it. They left him? Would they make it back? Being the sweet boy he is neteyam prayed to Eywa they would make it back before it was his time. He prayed he could get to see his parents, siblings, before he was taken to be one with Eywa. He wanted to hold on.

Right on time, you gasp for air climbing out of the water coughing up whatever had almost made you give up and drown, you climb onto the rock and unclip your bag taking it off your shoulders and dropping it beside you, your hands push your air out of your face as you coughed on all fours. You didn’t even notice him; he wasn’t your concern. It was only after you caught your breath did you see him laying there, his seemingly lifeless body.

You don’t know him, clearly, he is na’vi, not metkayina so from the forest, a Sully? One of his boys. You move closer and neteyam hears your light, soft footsteps. They were too deliberate for an animal but too light for the heavy boots that soldiers wear. His eyes were closed; he couldn’t open them even if he wanted to. He felt all too exposed; he can’t move but he’s conscious about his surroundings like some kind of sleep paralysis in a nightmare.

The shoes make slow steps towards him getting closer and closer. It was a whisper of movement, strange. He wasn’t sure if it was an enemy, but he knows it’s not familiar. You crouch down next to him, you thought maybe you could make him out, but you can’t. Your hand slowly moves to his face touching his cheek softly, its still warm, hot even.

You look down at his body, the blood still oozed out of his wound. ‘Was he even dead?’ The thought ran across your mind.

Your eyes darted around to see if anyone was coming back before your fingers slowly moved to under his nose, after a brief moment you felt his warm exhale hit your fingers, ‘he’s alive’

“You’re still breathing...” Your hands fly to his chest closing to wound to prevent anymore blood loss, he must be so weak by now he was in so much pain he passed out, or was that from the blood loss? You weren’t sure. Either way you didn’t want to let him die. “Just hold on...” you raise your head again this time looking for the backpack you have discarded.

Quickly you let go of him and ran to get to backpack before running back, ripping it open you pull out a soaked t-shirt, ‘it’ll work.’ You make quick work of ringing out any water you could before you cover his wound to prevent more blood loss.

“Shit…” you mumble, you know you can’t save him here, you have to take him where you have supplies. Neteyam doesn’t know what to do, not that he can do anything. He hears a woman’s voice. He hears her trying to reassure him he won’t die, he felt her hands trying to stop the blood, so he wasn’t as alarmed as he was a few minutes ago, in fact he felt a bit comforted someone was trying to save him when everyone though there wasn’t anyone to save.

“Okay I know you probably can’t respond, maybe you can’t hear me at all and I’m talking to myself like an idiot, but I need to move you.” You waited a few seconds as if he was going to answer but he didn’t, you called out for your ikran that landed beside you in less than a minute. You look back down at his body, he was tall, muscular, definitely heavy. After a deep breath you clutched his arms over your head and lifted his deadweight on your back, settling him on your ikran you took off quickly in the direction of safety.

You were sure no one saw you considered most of the clan had retreated when the ship sunk and it was the middle of eclipse. You flew into the darkness at unmatched speed, holding onto him tightly so he wouldn’t accidentally fall off and actually die. Your adrenaline was pumping through you, the air felt cold against your soaking wet clothes, you couldn’t wait to get a minute to really breathe.

You made your way to the top of a cliff where just beyond the tree line was a house, it was so human like if someone saw the cabin its look almost like it was on earth, if it wasn’t for the unique Pandora trees and flowers. You landed swiftly and leaned neteyam on your ikran before jumping off.

You ran into the cabin going straight for the medically cabinet you kept stocked, and pulling out some gauzes, medical tape and surgical kit. You ran back to him and pulled him off the ikran. His body his the grassy with a loud thump, but you heard it. A small groan from his lips, it hit but he was there, alive, responsive.

“I am sorry, I know that must have hurt. But what I have to do will hurt even more” you speak softly to him almost comforting him before you turn on a small flashlight and held it between your teeth and rip the blood t-shirt off, when you lifted him earlier you saw the exit wound so no bullet in him is one less thing for you to take care off.

You open the gauze and wipe the blood holding it against the wound. His eyes were shut tightly and his brow line furrowed. You know he is about to feel what you're going to do. You use your elbow to hold the gauze in place as you thread the surgical needle. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. This is going to hurt, but only for a second.” you repeat yourself over and over as if he could acknowledge you in a muffled voice.

You took out a needle filled with lidocaine and slowly injecting it in certain parts around to wound to numb it, “I don’t even know if this works on na’vi” you mumble to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you started to sew up to the wound, slightly pulling his touch skin to close it up. Thankfully, you know an artery wasn’t damaged otherwise he would have bled out by now.

“Almost done..” you whisper before I rip the thread with my teeth and knot it. I sigh in relief as the bleeding in the front stops and I turn him over and do the same to the wound on his back. The last knot tight ended under your fingers the bleeding stopped, just barely.

You take a deep breath and lean back sitting next to his body on the floor spitting out the flashlight. You noticed his breathing was no longer quick and low but more normal, so you must have done something right. You look over the cliff at the eclipse and the way it reflected so beautifully on the open ocean.

Your heartbeat was stabilizing, you didn’t realize how much of an autopilot you were operating on until your arms started to feel tired, after all you did hold onto him very tightly. From what you could tell he was out like a light now, if he wasn’t before you weren’t sure. You had to move him inside. You look back at him, he was clearly a solider, he had the build. He was young, maybe your age? You weren’t sure. All your questions would be answered in due time, or maybe he’d kill you and run back to his family either way you can’t say you regret saving him.

You never much cared about how human affect the environment here on Pandora, your job was not to hunt down any na’vi who were trying to live in peace, no. Your job was the protect the people on the ship, it was your only job, to keep humans from dying on pandora. You knew what they were doing killing of the tulkun for the youth serum, but until the day you saw them kill the tulkun close to the clan. You didn’t care.

How could they be so unloving as to kill a member of someone’s family? They knew very well that was the relationship between the tulkun and the ocean na’vi. What if it were their family member? Their mother or baby? Only then will they decide these acts are vile. Maybe that is why you decided to save him.

You stand up and walk around his body until you were standing at him head, you drop to your knees sliding your arms under his to lift his upper body off the ground. You noticed how long he was before but now you must have underestimated before. He was at least a foot taller than you.

The first pull is the hardest his weight fights against you to bring him in. Your teeth gritted as you continued until you made it over the rocky ledge and inside the cabin through the back balcony glass doors. You didn’t drop him as you look upped the stairs where the bedrooms were, and you take a long heavy sigh.

Instead of suffering through every step you settling to laying him down on the black L shaped leather couch. Carefully you adjust his body putting his legs up on the couch one by one until you he was in a comfortable enough position you could let him rest. You started a fire before making sure to lock all windows and doors and drawing all the curtains. The only source of light was the first and the dim kitchen light behind the couch.

You got a damp cloth from the kitchen and decided to clean his wounds best you could in his position. You sank down leaning back on the base of the couch looking at him, his braids still had traces of blood, but he’d have to lose them out and wash it. Your eyes darted over the bandage, no fresh blood so you took a breath.

You were exhausted, you could just take a nap right there, but you were soaking wet and also covered in blood, so you decided to take a shower. It’s not like he would go anywhere.

The hot water was well needed, washing off all the blood and salty water was heavenly, the shower made the mirrors and glass door steam up, but you enjoyed it. You had recently run out of soap and had to make some from a purple flower your found growing wild outside, it was nice and no poisonous which you checked multiple times. It smells like nothing you’ve ever smelled before it was amazing, it brought you so much peace and tranquility you didn’t know a scent could do that.

The water hit you skin like a whisper at first, then a rush. You braced your hands against the wall, letting it pour over you, washing the blood away in slow red spirals down the drain. Your brain was fogged with thoughts of the man downstairs on your couch, this would have been the first time in your entire life you ever let a stranger in your home and that was before you were even an avatar.

You pad down the stairs now dressed in a tank top and pj shorts with your lace bra peaking out the top of the tank top, you weren’t worried about it you were sure he’d probably wake up tomorrow rather than tonight. You walk over to the kitchen and put the kettle on to heat up some water to make some tea.

Afterwards you sat on the other side of the couch where his feet were, your tea sat in the coffee table in front of you and take the throw blankets off your side of the couch using one to cover him from the waist down and the other to cover yourself. You couldn’t pinpoint why it was so important to you he stayed safe and warm, but you didn’t want to think too much into it.

Before you could get comfortable you noticed an object on his hip that seemed out of place under the blanket. Carefully you pulled it back and saw his knife. It was natural he’d have one, almost every na’vi you’d encountered had their own personalized knife, whether it was a specific carving or bead even the blade they were all special.

Slowly you take the entire holder out of his tweng and set it right there on the coffee table. So, when he did eventually wake up, he’ll see it’s still right there. It was a beautiful knife. Clearly one of the Omatikayan with the intricate carvings. The handle was wood covered with leather and waxed thread from a beanstalk palm, and the blade was the size of your entire forearm, it was made of some kind of bone, you could wrong, but it looked like a piece of bone from a large predator he carved into a sharpened tip and stained to have a darker brown color.

The handle also had a small bead attached to it, it was tied on using a thread, but it was beautiful, contrast to the dark scary color of the rest of the knife, the bead was a very pretty pink, it was a color that wasn’t all that common, at least not that you’ve seen. It was not perfectly round but shaped almost like a jagged flower. This part of his knife was definitely a gift, and it felt deeply personal.

“Wow…” you whispered to yourself. You wondered if he had made himself or if it was gifted to him by someone special, you were aware they did that sometimes, for close families and mates. You didn’t even know if he was mated, what if you casually kidnapped someone’s husband. They could be crying right now thinking he was dead, even though you did save his life.

You sat back in your stop your body facing him as you leaned against the couch and pulled the blanket over your shoulders. With a slow breath you shift into the corner of the couch and tuck your legs up, letting your body sink into the cushions. It was quiet now, just the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the cliff and his low breaths on the other side of the couch.

You let your eyes drift back to him once more, he’s so strong, strained. Yes he’s battered and braised, but still he is composed. Like he’s always been built to endure. You reach out distinctively to pull the blanket over his wore out feet properly tucking it in as if he was a child.

“You better now die on me now…or wake up and kill me cause I’ll be pissed”

The words were whispered before you could stop them.

Your head tilted back and hit the top of the couch before you shut your eyes, you don’t know when you fell asleep. One minute you were looking at him with half lidded eyes and the next your eyes were closed but you still saw him laying in front of you.

The fire had long since dimmed, its light reduced to a soft amber glow that flicker against the walls. Outside, the world had quieted, only distant crashes of waves and the whisper of wind through the trees remained.

You were curled up on the other end of the couch, blanket was tangled in your legs and your head reacted against the cool cushion, exhaustedly asleep. Moonlight washed through the windows, pale and silvery, pooling across the floor up the side of Neteyam’s face through the slit in the curtain.

His fingers twitched.

Then again, but more deliberately this time. A shallow inhale rattled through his chest, strained and dry. He winced as he tried to move slightly, his brow tightening as his senses crawled back one by one to him. The stiffness in his limbs and ache in his chest, the softness of the blanket that was pulled over his abdomen.

And the scent.

Not the salty waters at the metkayina clan he became so accustomed too, not the scent of blood that lingered in the battles field.

Something warm, clean, unfamiliar but also familiar in a way he couldn’t place.

His eyes slowly opened, slits at first. They felt grainy, like sand. His eyes adjusted to the low lighting of the room, the wooden ceilings, and wooden walls. A soft rhythmic sound, ‘waves?’ a cliffside?

It definitely wasn’t home.

He moved slights and pain bloomed in his chest, it was bound, hints of blood that wasn’t cleaned properly against his skin felt dry.

Then he saw you. A girl, slumped at the bend of the couch wrapped loosely in a blanket, chest rising and falling slowly. You weren’t human, he hinted the extra finger you had. You were an avatar. Your breathing was peaceful, unbothered, but he could almost see the exhaustion.

Neteyam stared for a while, a long moment. His heart thumbed weakly against bruised ribs, the pain was real, the exhaustion was deeper, but he wasn’t dead.

And he just knew that was because of you.

Then you stirred.

By a noise. Not loud, just a soft scrape, shift of weight against the leather. Your eyes open slowly before the rest of your body moves. You know there’s a chance this man will risk his life again just to kill you, being an unfamiliar avatar and all.

Your eyes darted around until you saw him shifting in the darkness, with a breath you sat up, “you’re awake” your voice comes out soft.

His body shifts, his face drawn tight in pain that he tried to mask. But his eyes were open, locked directly on you. You shift to stand up reaching for the bottle of water that was on the coffee table.

You barely got to move when he snatched his knife off the table and held it up. Given his very injured situation you were impressed he was able to act so quickly, you were right, he is a warrior.

“Woah, wait” you say gently, hands raised.

His grip was trembling from the lose of blood, you were sure. “Who the hell are you?” He hissed, “why did you bring me where?”

“You were dying- shot” you point to his chest, “I stopped the bleeding, stitched you up” your voice was low.

Distrust etched in ever tense line in his body, “you’re with the RDA” he hissed once more, “your kind is the reason this happened! The reason I was shot!” His eyes narrowed on you.

“I’m not them- I didn’t shoot yo-”

“Where am I?” He asked hoarsely.

“Safe, you’re safe” you replied.

“That’s not what I asked”

A moment of silence cranked between you. You sat up slowly not moving from your side of the couch.

“Stay back!” He hissed

“I’m not moving” you say to reassure him, but you aren’t sure how much it helped.

You look down at his bandage before looking back at him face making sure he didn’t accidentally rip them.

“What is this place?” He asked you, his voice cracked.

“This is my…home, I guess. The RDA base is...far- very far from here so you don’t have to worry. It was close to where the ship went down so I brought you here to stop the bleeding and stitch it up.” You explain hoping to help him get answers.

“I know you are distrustful, and this is a weird situation but I’m not trying to hurt you” your tone was soft.

“Then why did you bring me here?!” His voice cracked again.

“I wouldn’t have been allowed into the clan even if I were to bring you back. I would have been killing on the spot. I know that you ran with your family from the forest. That’s the whole reason Quaritch commandeered the ship in the first place. I brought you here cause know one knows about this cabin, you can…heal”

His grip on the knife faltered slightly but he didn’t drop it. “I see how this could be…unbelievable. But I promise I’m not here to hurt you, or anyone. That was never my intention when I joined the RDA, and I.. have held at least that part of my morals up.”

“You flew me here, I remember on your ikran, how did you get it?” He asked his voice was calmer this time but not as calm as he should be healing from a gunshot wound.

“I have been on Pandora for years; at a certain point we need a way to get around that would waste gas. Since I work out in the ocean it’s easier to fly on an ikran than a helicopter every time we needed something from shore. It was a requirement by command that some of the avatars bonded with one.” I explain truthfully.

His eyes flicker over your body, the tank top you wore with your bra still peaking out, his eyes lingers but he didn’t react, clearly you were comfortable here. And alone because humans don’t dress like this in front of people. At least that much he knew.

“You don’t know me” he bit out, “why risk it?”

“I…” you stopped to think, you harden actually thought about it. “You were alive when I…climbed onto that rock I couldn’t just let you die” you replied with a small shake of your head implying you were being genuine.

He didn’t say anything but shifted again barely, wincing in pains

“Wait- you will tear your stitches can you just lay back down? And relax?” You raise your hands hoping he’d stay down before you stand up and run to the kitchen to get a glass of water. You quickly pour it and hopped back to him.

He immediately backed away when you stepped closer than you were before, “it’s just water I’m sure your throat hurts it’ll help” you reassured him softly, but he was still on edge.

“How do I know you didn’t poison it?”

“Valid question” you reply before taking a sip, “I’m not going to…. poison myself” You steps closer, and he let you. You slowly bring the glass up to his lips and hold it for him to sip the water, “okay good, we’re getting somewhere now” you smile softly as he drank the water greedily.

“Do you want more?” You ask as he finished the glass, and he shook his head no.

He finally put down the knife when you put the glass down on the coffee table and sat next to it, “can I check the stitches?” You asked softly

He didn’t say anything just leaned back and nodded, “what is your name?” You asked softly, “I figured out that you are one of Jake Sully’s children, but my job was not to hunt your family so I.. do not know much many children he has or your names so?”

He took a beat not saying anything only look at your face as you lifted the bandage carefully to check his stitches, “Neteyam. I am the oldest of four. Why are you helping me again?” He asked as he screws his face.

Neteyam. The name suited him, it was strong, clipped, almost regal in a way.

“I just didn’t want to let you die Neteyam. And it is nice to meet you; my name is Y/n” you said with small smile which he just nodded to.

“The oldest huh?” You echoed as you fixed the bandage and let go of it. “That explains the attitude.”

He huffs softly. Not quite a laugh but close.

His chin shifts slightly, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing it just makes sense” you smirk lightly.

He doesn’t answer at first you can feel the stare and you look right back at him, direct eye contact.

“I don’t trust you” he mutters still looking at you.

Softly you replied, “I didn’t ask you too”

“I’m not staying here”

His voice is rough, determined as he swings his legs off the couch and sit up. His teeth gritted as he pushed himself upright. Quickly you caught his elbow and arm to stabilize him.

“Don’t be stupid, your rip your stitches” you said firmly.

“Better than being a captive” he shoots back.

He stands barely, swaying on his feet. One of his hands actually grabbed yours to help stabilize himself since you raised with him. You catch his shoulder before his knees could buckle.

“You’re not a captive” you say through gritted teeth, “and your heavy you know”

“No? Then why am I still breathing?”

You hold him steady in front of you and as predicted he was at least a foot taller than you, so you had to look up at him. His breathing was shallow.

“Because I didn’t let you die. How much times will we need to go through this before you hear me?” You say quietly.

There’s a long beat before he lets you guide him back to sit with a grunt.

“I need to clean off this blood” he gestures to the dried blood you didn’t get to properly clean.

“Ok, but you can’t bath yet, you need to keep the wound dry for the next day or two before you can wet the area”

He cuts your off with a glare, “Then how am I meant to clean myself? I’m not sitting here covered in blood like some helpless thing”

You nod slowly, “you're not, but right now you’re not exactly invincible”

He doesn’t say anything just settles back with a frustrated hiss. The weight of everything that happened pressed on him all at once, the wound, the blood, your presence. He hated this.

“You cannot take a real bath yet, but you can take a sponge bath. I’ll just bring the bowl with warm water and a sponge. It’ll help” you suggest softly.

“I don’t need-” he started flatly before you cut him off.

“You don’t have to let me do it. I’ll just bring it for you. You’ll clean what you can reach”

He stares at you for a beat too long, his expression never gave away any feeling he had about you. Then finally, he nodded slightly, “fine” he said begrudgingly.

Without another word you move to the kitchen to get a bowl of hot water and a clean sponge. Behind you his shoulders relaxed just a bit, enough to show he was opening up to the idea of letting you help him settle, even if he won’t admit it yet.

You return with the bowl filled with water and a clean cloth, “I’ll be right back” you put it in the coffee table and run upstairs for a towel for him to dry off with after.

You run back down the stairs, and he was already wiping the blood off his body with the cloth, “you can dry off the water with this after” I say softly and drop the towel next to him. The steam from the water curls softly in the cool air.

Neteyam shifts when he sees you sit down by the bend of the couch; he eyed you wearily. “Do you always watch your patients so closely?”

“You’re not my patient. Just a guy who was casually dying on what I’m sure what a hard, uncomfortable rock” a smirk tugs the corner of your lips.

“Feels like I’m under a microscope” he grunted faintly, as he shifts positions slightly to clean as much of himself as he can.

“Don’t flatter yourself” you say teasingly before you turn away to give him som privacy.

That draws a low chuckle, if was unexpected but real. When you glance over half of his was clean, slick from the water, shining in the dim cabin light. He catches your eye but doesn’t look away.

His gaze isn’t soft, it’s sharp, searching. As if he’s looking for a reason in your expression that’ll tell him whether or not he should trust you.

“What are you looking for?” He asked you in a deep voice.

You blink surprised by the question, “I wasn’t….looking for anything”

He huffs softly, almost a scoff, “everyone’s always looking for something”

“Then maybe I’m not everyone” you say steadily.

His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but studying, testing.

“That’s what worries me”

You lean back against the couch watching him without flinching, “I didn’t drag you away from the edge of death to hurt you now.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t” he says flatly.

You nod softly accepting his truth, “then keep your knife close, and don’t rip your stitches and bleed on my couch” I smirk at him.

His lip twitches barely, and for the first time the tension shifts, or doesn’t fade just changes shape.

“Do you need help now? I can clean up the wound on your back” you offer softly.

You can tell he doesn’t want to say yes but there is no way he can reach without hurting himself, so he nods holding the cloth out in your direction.

You take it into your hand and walk around the couch, “lean up a bit?” You press your hand softly on his shoulder pushing him forward as you make quick and gentle work cleaning up the dry blood from his back.

“Your hair has blood in it too, when you can bath properly you should loosen your braids out and wash it” you say softly.

“I will” he grunted.

After I was finished, I let him lean back against the couch once more, “there you should feel a bit cleaner now”

You move to start another fire considering it gets quite cold where the cabin was. The fire crackled softly in the hearth. You went to the kitchen and returned with a small bowl of broth and a cup of warm tea. Neteyam still sitting up on the couch with the blanket now dropped over his shoulders watches you with weary eyes. You put the bowl down him front him wordlessly, settling beside him again.

“Figured you could use something warm” you say softly.

He hesitates before he picks it up with a grunt of thanks. He brings the bowl up to his lips and sips the hot broth, completely ignoring the spoon you put down next to the bowl for him to use. His ears perk up and his tail raises and hits the couch with a small thump.

He masks his reaction once more even though you already caught it and was slightly smiling at the fact he liked it. “Not bad…for a sky person”

“Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment” you smirk at him.

A faint twitch of a smile tugs at his lips but it fades quickly. He shifts; his eyes fixed on the fire a few feet in front of him, “why are you out here alone?”

You thought for a second, “it wasn’t really the plan, just ended up this way.” You look around the cabin, taking in the decor and feeling of the space.

Silence stretches before he says, “you’re still with the RDA”

That wasn’t a question. You nod slowly, “I…work for the RDA. Doesn’t mean I agree with everything they do. But it’s not my decision to make” I shrug softly.

“That’s easy to say when you're not the one being hunted.”

The edge in his voice makes you pause before you nod again, he was right, “don’t worry, this place is a secret, only two people on this moon ever knew about it. One of them is dead and the other is..me. So, I can say I’m sure your safe. And now well, you know about it.”

He looks at you sharply, surprised by your lack of defense. For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, he shifts slightly closer, eyes flickering over your features, your hands, your eyes, mouth now and then when he thinks your not looking but you notice.

“You speak English very well” you say breaking the silence tilting your head slightly.

His expression doesn’t change much, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, pride?

“My parents taught me. I pay attention” he replied quietly.

He paused then adds with a sharper edge, “why? Are your surprised a savage can speak your mother tongue?”

His words weren’t angry, but they were not soft either. He looked at you as if he was testing you.

“You are no savage, that much I’m sure off” you say softly to him, “but I guess I am surprised, I wouldn’t expect your parents to want you to know anything from the sky people.”

Neteyam tilted his head slightly, his gaze was sharp.

“My father was one of the sky people. The clan trust and follows him.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Learning the language wasn’t about wanting, it was about understand the enemy.” He clarified with pride.

“That’s smart” you nod with understanding, “you can’t beat someone if you don’t understand them”

Neteyam doesn’t smile but his eyes stayed locked in yours, unreadable, “do not mistake understanding for trust, I’ve seen what your people are capable of. I will not forget”

“You shouldn’t, your people had suffered a great deal and I’m sorry, even though I know my apologies for it don’t mean anything. It was…avoidable” you say softly.

He stares for another long moment, taking in what you said before he responds.

“You are right it doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t change anything” he shifts slight putting down the now empty bowl, “I’m still here injured because of people like you.”

“I agree my people did this, but can we also agree I’ve done nothing but help you since I’ve…saw you? Maybe all humans aren’t…that bad?” You say almost hopefully as if one conversation could change his perspective on you. Maybe he’d stop grouping you with those who want to hurt them, those who murder.

He took another second before answering, he clearly didn’t want got admit it just like he didn’t want to trust you, “you’re right, you did help me. You could have let me die but you didn’t”

“I can’t say I like the position I’m in now however, unfamiliar place, unfamiliar enemy which is very contradictory considering it was the enemy who saved my life. I do not want to feel like I owe you something for that”

Neteyam was nothing if he wasn’t head strong, but you did understand where he was coming from.

“You don’t owe me anything, I don’t want anything from you. You don’t trust me, I can feel it, in the way you look at me like you’re waiting for me to prove your distrust right”

You exhale before glancing down at your blue hands, it was a lovely shade, but it definitely wasn’t human. Your gaze shift to your tail, something so unnatural to you before you got used to this new body.

“I am like the man who is hunting your father. I’m sure you’ve seen him, maybe you’ve even fought him. This body, this life. It is permanent” you start softly. “I was so good at fighting as a human than the RDA just chose me to be…this.” You gesture to your body

“And that means I live here and will die on Pandora one day and become apart of this moon” you look back to him. “I wouldn’t survive very long if all I did was flight your people, so I’m just trying to live peacefully too”

Neteyam’s eyes stay on yours, you see the flicker of uncertainty shift in them. “You speak like you want to understand what it is like to be na’vi”

He was clearly skeptical as he continued, “many have come and said the same, words are easy, they said they wanted to learn, to be peaceful. But they lied and they invaded and took what they wanted disturbing the balance that Eywa has given us. No patience, no understanding, no care for what they were destroying.”

Your ears pinned down not knowing what to say, it honestly hadn’t hit you how disruptive humans had been for the na’vi. You never had all that much interaction with them simply because that wasn’t your job. You were about to say something, but he beat you too it.

“But you saved my life and gave me food and water, helped me cleaned my wounds. It was more than I was expecting from a sky person” he added in a softer tone.

The night after that passed. You didn’t want to leave him alone just in case his wound started to bleed again so you stayed sleeping on the smaller side of the couch leaving him on the side he was on. It didn’t take either of you long to fall asleep again since you both were extremely exhausted.

You stir, eyes adjusting to the light streaming in from the gaps in the curtains, you were t sure what time it was, but the sun was high in the sky. The ocean murmured waves crashing against the cliff, distant and soft.

Neteyam was already awake sitting up like he was the night before. He was watching you.

“You didn’t move” his voice was quiet, deep with sleep.

You turn to face him stretching slightly with the blanket still pulled to your neck, “didn’t have to, it’s my couch” you replied softly

He glances around, “right” he says as he leans his head again against the couch.

“How are you feeling?” You ask him tiredly, “any better than yesterday?”

“Considering I just got shot, I’d say I’m doing fantastic” he replies with sass.

“Don’t sass me bro.” You say as you raise your hand up making a stop gesture before you push the blanket off and stand-up walking over to him.

Neteyam watches you, his body tensing slightly as you step closer, “what are you doing?”

“Well. I was going to check your wound is that okay?” You yawn.

He nodded and didn’t move as you sat on the coffee table in front of him. Your body didn’t touch his, but you still felt the heat it omitted before you pull back the gauze and check the wound, “no sign of infection that’s good.”

“Na’vi are hard to kill” Neteyam says dryly. You look up and his rubbing your lips together to hold in a laugh.

“I’ve noticed.” You smile. “Are you in a lot of pain?” You huff with a smile.

“No, the gaping hole through my chest feels amazing” he exaggerated, “I might go for a jog.”

You snort before you could hold it back turning your mouth to hit your right shoulder in and effort to stop yourself from filling laughing.

“I’m glad your sarcasm is still in tack.” You smile, “but seriously do it hurt a lot?”

He paused for a minute, “it hurts yes, but I can breathe better than I could yesterday” he answers quietly.

“I have and antibiotic cream, it’ll help a bit with the pain, and prevent infection. I’ll change your bandages too. But overall, you are healing faster than I expected”

I get up and walk over to the medical supply cabinet and take out a couple fresh bandages and the antibiotic cream.

I walk back over to him and clean up around the wound before I apply the cream and cover it with the new bandages.

“What can I say I’m impressive even half-dead. Thought I’d be more dramatic about it?” Neteyam tilted his head with a crooked grin.

You shake your head with a smile. “You were dramatic, you bled on my couch”

“This is the first time I got shot, I had to make an entrance” he shrugged softly as you finished changing his bandages. He’s ears flicker slightly when he got a laugh out of you, it felt strange to him, was he proud? He’d made many women laugh in the past it wasn’t something he found difficult, but this situation was different. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about it.

You brought over a glass of water for him which he took sipping slowly until he finished while you walked back to the kitchen to start making breakfast. Neteyam couldn’t see you now, since the couch faced away from the kitchen but towards the tv and fireplace that had long burned out.

“Why is it so dark in here?” He asked over his shoulder noting all the closed curtains, no natural light coming into the room.

“Uh well that’s cause the blinds are closed, it’s still pretty early.” You say as you begin to dig around for something Neteyam might eat, you settle on some meat you had frozen from the last time RDA went hunting and eggs with some fruit.

“It feels like a cave” he adjusted himself to sit more comfortably on the couch looking around the room like he’s been doing since you brought him there.

You shrugged, “you want sun? I’ll open the blinds. Just don’t hips at it.”

A soft grunt passed his lips, was it amusement? Annoyance? Hard to say. “I’m not a wild animal.”

You arch a brow, even though you knew he couldn’t see you while you cracked the egg into the pan, “could’ve fooled me, the way you growled at me last night” you blow raspberries into the air in exaggeration.

He didn’t answer right away, then muttered, “still deciding if you’re prey.”

You glance over your shoulder at the back of his head before turning back, “let me know before breakfast, yeah? I’d rather not waste eggs.”

He shifted until he had turned enough to see you in the kitchen leaning against the side of the couch instead, adjusting the blanket over his lap se the smell of sizzling food drifted from the small kitchen space.

“You always cook with the lights off?” He called out, voice dry. “Or is this just part of the ambiance, ‘half dead guest special?”

You glance back at him with a smirk, “maybe I like a little mystery while I make breakfast”

He raised a brow, “Mystery? Smells like you’re trying to resurrect me with a frying pan and vibes.”

You snorted, “well, it’s workin, isn’t it?”

He reclined a little deeper into the couch, eyes tracking you as you move around the kitchen, “barely, is this is your version of hospitality, remind me not to get shot again.”

“Ungrateful” you muttered softly but you know he heard.

I put two plates down on the kitchen table with food on it, untie your apron and put it on the kitchen counter before walking over to the couch and standing next to him. “Come on, you’re not eating on my couch.”

He looked up at you clearly unimpressed. “What, you don’t do room service out here in the middle of nowhere?”

You cross your arms, “you’re lucky I don’t drag you.

He huffed a short laugh but didn’t move, “tempting. But if I get hurt again, that’s on you.”

You help out your hand, firm but patient, “I stitched you up, fed you, and let you sass me from my own couch. Don’t make me add dragging you to the table to the list.”

Neteyam groaned. More for show than pain, “I got shot in the chest not the legs” he muttered stubbornly.

“Yeah, and I’d rather not watch you fall on your face trying to prove yourself” you shot back.

He sighed through his nose and hold onto you to help him stand up. He wrapped his heavy large arm over your shoulder and you wrap an arm around his slim waist. Being careful not to let him fall. His body was warm, solid, but tense under your touch.

As he stood, he hissed slightly but didn’t complain. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m letting your help me because I’m being polite.”

You smirked. “Wow. So this is you being polite?”

His lip twitched but he didn’t answer, just leaned a little more of his weight into you as you walked.

You both take it once step at a time until you made it to the kitchen table, you switched on the warm yellow light ver the table to illuminate the space after he sat down, then you sat down in the chair next to him at the touch table. He lets out a white breath as he settled in, then looked at the food and raise a brow.

In front him was grilled yerik meat, sliced fruit and some fried eggs, all fresh and local, but not cooked the way he was used to.

Neteyam stared at it, then gave you a look. “What did you do to the poor yerik? Burn it into submission?”

You arch your brow, “it’s grilled. It’s called flavor.”

He picked up a piece with his fingers, inspecting it like it had wronged him, “flavor? My people season with wild herbs. This smells like smoke and… attitude.”

You smirked sarcastically. “Your welcome by the way. I did just slave over that stove for you.”

He bit into it an paused. Then, with a mouthful, mumbled, “could’ve let me die with dignity and decent cooking.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “you’re lucky your cute-”

You stopped staring down at your food with the fork in your hand and wide eyes, realizing what you let slip out, but it was too late.

Neteyam raised a brow, grinning like he had just won something. “Lucky I’m what?”

You roll your eyes, “nothing” you say casually.

“Oh no, please,” he leaned forward, still chewing, “tell me again how lucky I am because I’m cute.”

You mumbled, “I said no such thing.”

He smirked, pointing his fork that he clearly wasn’t using at you, “to late. I’m wounded and cute. Deadly combination.”

You cross your arms and leans back in your chair, “you’re wounded, picky, and have the ego of a war chief. Cute isn’t a word I’d use.”

Neteyam grinned, unfazed. “Ah, so, now I’m a war chief. First cute, now powerful. Keep going, I, enjoying this.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t flatter yourself, forest prince. I’ve seen yerik with better manners.”

He let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest dramatically, careful to avoid the bandage. “You wound me again. Truly your hospitality knows no bounds.”

He took a bite of the eggs, nodding in exaggerated approval, “could use a little salt. But I’ll survive. Barely. Thanks to your tender, smocking-hot…grill.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You were about to say something else.”

He smirked, licking his fingers, “was I? You’re imagining things, must be that flustered energy coming off you.”

You grab a napkin and tossed it at his face, “eat your food before I decide you’re strong enough to cook your own damn breakfast tomorrow”

He caught the napkin with ease chuckling. “So violent for someone so nurturing, you sure you’re not falling for me?”

You lean forward slightly, “remember last night when you threatened to stab me? Why would I be falling for you? And even if I did, you’d be the last to know”

Neteyam tilted his head, eyes gleaming with challenges. “We’ll see about that.”

Once breakfast was finished and you’d both finished eating, you stood up taking the dishes to the sink to start cleaning up. Neteyam leaned back in his chair, watching you move around the kitchen with an unreadable expression.

“You always take care of strangers like this?” He asked, voice a little quieter now, less teasing.

You gave him a glance over your shoulder, “only ones who bleed on my grass, and my floors and my couch” you sigh.

He snorted, shaking his head, then slowly he stood, clearly regaining his strength. It was amazing how quickly he was starting to recover from his near death experience. You wondered if all the na’vi are this vigilant or if he was just some kind of invincible warrior.

“Well, guess I’m special huh?”

“Let’s not go so far,” you turn to watch him slowly walk up to you with a smirk, only looking away when he was holding onto the counter beside you.

He came over, still cautious with his movements, and put his weight on his stronger arm against the counter. His shoulder slight bumped yours. “And here I thought we were bonding over bad eggs and near-death experiences”

You turned off the water and whipped your hands on a hand towel, “first of all, my eggs are fucking good. And we’ll see how you feel once you me helped clean up.”

He raised his brow bone. “You want me to clean? With a bullet hole in my chest?”

“You’ve got one good arm,” you said sweetly, handing him the towel.

He took it with exaggerated effort and put it down on the counter next to him, “cruel woman, you mean the arm holding me up from falling right now?”

“Survivors don’t get lazy” you replied before nudging him with your elbow.

The water poured over your head in a steady stream, steam curling around your shoulders as you pressed your hands to the cool tile wall. You had come in here to clear your head to wash off the lingering tension, the ache from sleep, and that buzz you couldn’t quite explain.

But it wasn’t working.

It was him.

Neteyam.

He hadn’t done a thing that morning. Hadn’t lifted a finger to help with breakfast, just stayed on the couch, arms crossed behind his head, half-lidded eyes watching the ceiling like he was bored out of his mind.

But you’d felt him watching you. Every time you turned your back. Every time you bent over or shifted. You could feel his gaze trailing along your spine like a hand that never touched. And when he did speak, his voice it wasn’t fair.

Deep. Smooth. Rich like the forest after rain.

And the way he moved…

You tilted your head back, letting the hot water roll down your chest. You didn’t mean to think about him, didn’t mean to notice, but the memory crept in anyway. The way his muscles flexed when he shifted on the couch, chest bandaged but firm and defined beneath it. The long lines of his legs, the stripes along his skin, the faint shimmer that came from the damp heat of the room the night before.

He looked powerful. And wild. And wounded.

And too damn beautiful to be real.

Your hand moved over your stomach absentmindedly, as if trying to soothe the way it fluttered. His face was still sharp in your mind those eyes, so full of suspicion, but never dull. They were intense. Too intense. Looking at you like you were a threat, like you were a puzzle, like maybe just maybe you were something else entirely.

intense. Too intense. Looking at you like you were a threat, like you were a puzzle, like maybe just maybe you were something else entirely.

You caught yourself.

Fingers tightened on the tile. “Get a grip,” you whispered, letting the water pelt down harder, trying to drown the thoughts before they spiraled any further.

You weren’t supposed to feel anything about him. He was a wounded Na’vi. You were a human permanently stuck in your avatar. And this wasn’t safe for either of you.

But still…

Your mind slipped again to the low rumble of his laugh, the accidental flash of a smile when he’d said something cocky the night before. The way his ears twitched when he heard a bird outside. The curve of his collarbone where the bandage didn’t reach.

You exhaled sharply and turned the water to cold.

It didn’t help it’s only been one day, was it even possible to be so infatuated with someone so quickly. You almost started to wonder what he thought about you, but quickly you turned off the shower and got out before you could. That wouldn’t help you.

The days that followed passed in a strange quite rhythm, like a clam between storms. The atmosphere had started to shift. The first few days remained mostly on the couch downstairs, watchful, cautious, sharp-tongued. But he was healing much faster than you had predicted, the resilience of his na’vi physiology steadily outpacing your human expectations. The deep bruising had faded, the wound closing up quickly but not quite done yet, and by the forth day, he could walk without leaning in you to heavily.

It didn’t stop him from making a show of his independence thought. He still tossed sass like it was a defense mechanism. When you tired to help him, he’d mutter sarcastic little jabs, never cruel, just enough to challenge you. “I’m fine” he’d say with a dry smirk, wincing slightly as he tested his own limits. “I didn’t get hit by a Tobruk, jus a little bullet.” You were leaning to match his tone, finding his attitude oddly endearing. His wit had a heat to it that made the air feel thicker whenever he looked at you too long.

He had taken to calling you “princess,” the word always dripping with a kind of teasing bite the made your brow twitch and your stomach flutter all at once. “Whatever you say princess,” he’d say whenever you told him to stop overdoing it or remind him to drink water. He knew exactly how it landed, half mocking, half flirtation, and the glint in his eyes afterward said he enjoyed pushing your buttons. You pretended to be annoyed, but a part of you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

By the fifth night he moved upstairs choosing the spare room beside yours. You offered it out of practicality, but when you heard him quietly testing the floorboards and settling into the room, your realized how aware you were of his presence, just on the other side of the wall, the door between your rooms stayed closed but it might as well have been paper. It was like he couldn’t sleep, he was restless in the room. It was off putting considering when you both slept on the couch, he slept like a log. The entire night would go off without a hitch he slept peacefully. When you’d awake in the night hearing noises outside he didn’t even flinch.

Every creek, every low sigh through the walls, every time he got up and strolled into your room to use the master bathroom quietly padding across the room, it made your skin prickle.

You didn’t know why he used your bathroom. Even after he was strong enough to manage the one in the hallway. You told yourself it was cleaner and better stocked, but the first time you found a fresh towel slightly damp on the rack after he’d finished and the mirror and shower glass fogged up, you had to turn away to cool your thoughts.

That morning, you’d tried to think about besides him while your showered, but the ghost of his voice, low, rough and accented, it stayed with you. It was the way he said your name. The way his golden eyes held your gaze a beat too long sometimes. The way his body looked in the borrowed avatar clothing you had stored away in a box in an used spare room, how they hugged his lean farm just a little too perfectly, especially when damp from a shower or stuck to his back with sweat from walking the hill path behind the cabin to gain his strength.

You never meant to notice, but it happened anyways. The ripple of his stomach when he stretched, sometimes when it pecked out from under the t-shirt he wore. The way his hair was now loose from braids when he had washed it, how it looked falling down his shoulder since he didn’t bother to braid them again yet. The strength in his arms when he lifted a bracket of fruit, the sound of him cleaning his throat or chuckling to himself in the other room, it was all in your head now. Looped on repeat.

You really tried not to think about him in those clothes, the meaning behind them almost set your skin on fire but you had nothing else to give me. It didn’t hit you right away, only the night he sat on the couch some old tv show idly playing in front of your both. He noticed your shift in demeanor but he decided now wasn’t the time to question it.

By day, he explored small distances, pushing his limits while pretending he wasn’t. You caught him standing out by the cliff more than once, just staring at the horizon, lost in thought. It surprised you when you saw your fired ikran sitting next to him like he had no care in the world, it wasn’t something he did often with people.

‘He must be thinking about his family’ you thought to yourself.

Arms wrapped around yourself you walked out and sat on the other side of him, “are you alright?”

He seemed to have not even noticed your steps towards him until you say down and he gave you a glance, “yea, just thinking about my family.”

You didn’t say anything, you weren’t sure what to say. So you stayed quiet. You watched pat your ikran on the head slightly, “he likes you” you say softly. “His name is Leo.”

“He is beautiful, his patterns is very unique almost like flowers”

“I know he’s my babe he’s gorgeous” I smile. “What about yours?”

“Her name is Seze, after my mothers first sprit sister, I heard the stories and they just match, the name, the colors. She is strong.”

“Like her sprit brother?”

He turned his head to look at you and you looked back at him, “you are very strong too” I look down at his chest before my eyes dart back up to his.

“Not like her.”

“Maybe not, but it is a fact Neteyam” you say confidently.

Sometimes he’d sit in the sunlight filtering through the window, sharpening the blade of the same knife you found on his hip on the first day you met him, using a rock he decided to casually bring inside and left it on the floor in one specific spot for this reason only. It was not a multipurpose rock and you were not allowed to touch it. You tired throwing it back outside but he just brought it back in.

So you let him, it gave him peace. But occasionally, he’d catch you looking and a faint smirk would lift the corner of his lips, “didn’t think the sky people taught staring as a skill” he once said. You snapped back with, “only when the view’s worth it” before realizing how flirtatious it sounded. He didn’t comment just raised his brow bone and looked amused.

By night the two of you developed a routine, you’d make simple meals from what you could forgave from the garden outside, any kind of fresh fruit or vegetable along with whatever your already had in the kitchen or fridge, local meat, roots, tart fruits that stained your fingers purple, and he’d tease your cooking even as he cleared his plated. One night, you asked if he wanted to help and he responded, “you’ve got the knife skills and I’ve got the survival instinct. Let’s not blur the line just yet.” You laughed. So did he. A real one, short and genuine.

Still the boundary was clear. He didn’t trust easily, and you didn’t push him. But there was an undercurrent, a quiet shift in energy each time you passed each other in the hallways or stood too close in the kitchen. You felt it in the subtle way he watched your when he thought you didn’t notice, or in the way his voice softened ever so slightly when you two talked late into the night. You didn’t touch him, not really. Not unless you were redressing his wounds or moments when your hand brushed, when you helped him steady himself, his fingers lingered in your arm just a second longer that necessary.

You didn’t want to say what any of that meant since you didn’t know yourself, not yet. But it was something. Something you were starting to feel under your skin like a pulse.

It’s been almost two weeks now, Neteyam has healed amazingly quick, his skin had returned back to its normal color where he had bruising, anywhere he had gonna scraps had healed up and mostly disappeared.

This afternoon, the sun had just dipped low enough to turn the ocean gold, you were both sitting on the porch. You in a big weaved cushioned chair and him leaning on the raining like he belonged there.

“You said something the first night” he said, breaking the quiet, his voice was thoughtful, not playful, or teasing. Just real.

You turned towards him, “oh? I say a lot of things.”

He glanced at you, one side of his mouth twitching, “you said you didn’t plan to here here alone”

You stilled. The words you’d almost forgotten came back in full. You hadn’t meant to get into detail, you didn’t even thing he remembered anything from that night. He was in his worst condition, it surprised you.

“I didn’t,” you admitted after a pause. “Not originally.”

“But you do,” he said simply.

You rub your lips together and gave a slow nod, eyes drifting back towards the horizon, “yeah. I do.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before he said, softly, “Why?”

The ocean beyond the cliffs was calm, bathed in soft shades of blue and silver under the planet above. You wrapped your hands around your mug, the warmth grounding you as you look back at him and decided to tell him the truth. You don’t know why you felt like you could trust him, you weren’t even sure he trusted you yet.

“I didn’t build this place to be alone,” you said slowly, your voice barely audible.

Your head tilted down to look at your mug. Neteyam glanced at you, his expression was unreadable, but you didn’t look back yet. Your eyes stayed down, locked on the steam coming from the mug, like it held the courage you needed.

“I came here with someone,” you continued. “My boyfriend. We were both with the RDA both from the navy on earth, so we both got avatars. We were in different squads. He was on land and I was stationed in the ocean.” You sniffle softly from the cold. “We talked about a future here, once the politics and field work was over. The cabin was going to be home. Our home, forever.”

Your swallow, your throat tight. The words hurt, not because they were hard to say but because they still felt so real, like they’d only just slipped through your fingers.

“Before they transfer your consciousness into your avatar permanently, you go through a series of test using the link machine.” You explain. “He died a year ago, one minute he was next to me, the next he was gone. Something with his link upload they said it didn’t…work the way it was supposed to, I still don’t know why. . No warning, no goodbye, I saw his avatar laying on the cot like a shell the next morning and that was it.”

Neteyam’s face tensed, and this time you did glance at him, his eyes met yours, wide with the kind of pain only someone who’s lost can recognize.

“I stayed,” you went on, a crack sneaking into your voice. “Everyone thought I was crazy for not going back to earth. But I couldn’t, we built this place. Every beam, every stone, I wasn’t ready to let go of it, or him and he uh…he’s buried in pandora, I’m not gonna just, leave him here.”

Silencer bloomed between you again, thick and pulsing. You didn’t try to fill it, you let it breathe.

After a long moment, Neteyam spoke quietly, sincerely.

“That must’ve shattered you.”

You exhaled shakily, “it did.”

He looked away for a second struggling with something in himself. Then, voice low, “I know what it feels like. That kind of loss. Like a piece of you is just… missing.”

You nodded, and for the first time since the conversation started you smiled softly.

“Some days it still feels like I. Waiting for him to walk through that door. But lately… I don’t know. It’s not as loud.

Neteyam looked back at you. “And now your sharing it with a stranger you dragged up a cliff.”

A breath of laughter escaped your chest, a wet sound edged with emotion. “Your not a stranger anymore. I’ve known you two whole weeks now.” You joke.

He didn’t answer right away, but the look in his eyes softened just enough. The walls between you didn’t fall, but one of them cracked.

You hesitated before speaking again, your voice softer now, almost like you were afraid of saying too much, but unable to stop.

“We were gonna have kids.” You gave a small breathy laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “That’s why there are so many rooms in this house. He thought three was a good number. But I wasn’t sure, we were excited. Carved out everything room by room.”

Neteyam came to sit next to you in the chair.

“I remember … we even argued about which room would be the nursery,” you said with a wistful smile. “He wanted the one that got the morning sun, but I said it’ll be to warm. I wanted it to be the one closest to the master bedroom, the one you’re seeking in.” You look over at him.

“Really?”

You nodded, “yeah. That was the one he lost the argument over. Said the morning sun would make it feel alive, but I didn’t care, I wanted the baby close”

Neteyam looked up at the sky, picturing the room he’s sleeping in then shot you a crooked smile, “well, I don’t cry that often, and I sleep through the night, so I’d say I’m a pretty low-maintenance baby.”

You blink, looking at him, before you let out a laugh, a short and real, surprised by the way his joke cracked through the heaviness like sunlight cutting through the clouds. “Wow” you paused, “you are not low maintenance”

He turned towards you, feigning offense, “excuse me?”

You lean back in the seat with a knowing look. “You drink all my tea and still complain about it, you steal my shower, my shampoo and conditioner. You sulk like it’s an art form. And don’t get me started on how much space you take up on that couch.”

He blinked, the leaned closer a little, his tone playful. “I get shot once and suddenly I’m high maintenance?”

You have him a mock serious look, “shot once, hijacked my nursery, and now you think you’re a resident.”

His smirk grew into a grin, “I didn’t realize sarcasm was your love language”

“Good thing it’s fluent in yours too,” you shot back.

The air between you shifted again, still teasing, still playful, but there was something in the pause afterwards. Like neither of you really wanted the conversation to end.

Neteyam’s grin lingered, but something about it sharpened at the edges, turned a little slower, a little more deliberate. His eyes didn’t leave yours.

“Is that what his is then?” He asked, voice dropping just a touch, less teasing now, more curious. “You giving me a hard time because your like me?”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head, “don’t flatter yourself.”

His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before netting your eyes again, bolder this time, “you don’t deny it either.”

Neteyam’s smirk curled slow, like he knew something you don’t when you didn’t answer, maybe he was daring you to say it out loud, “you say I’m not low maintenance” his voice rich with amusement, “but you haven’t kicked me out yet.”

You raise an eyebrow, lip twitching, “that’s because you’re injured and I’m a good person.”

He leaned in more just slightly, his tone low and teasing. “Nah, I think you like having me around.”

You shot him a sideways glance. “Don’t let that compliments go to your head.”

“They already have,” he said with a lazy grin, eyes flickering again down to your lips then back up, he added, “not my fault you keep giving me reasons.”

Your pulse shattered. There it was again, that magnetic tension he slipped into so effortlessly when the sad turned flirt. You crossed your arms, trying to maintain the upper hand.

“You are a menace” you said, but your voice lacked heat.

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Maybe, but I’m your menace now, right?”

Your mouth opened but nothing came out. You hated how much that line hit, how it made heat crawl up the back of your neck. He chuckled softly at your silence, clearly pleased with himself.

“See? You like me.”

“Remind me to lace your tea with sleeping herbs next time.”

“Still means I get tea.” He winked.

Your breath caught, and your weren’t sure if it was from frustration or something else entirely, something warmer, heavier and far more dangerous.

“You know,” you said, voice careful, “for someone who acts so suspicious of me, your sure don’t mind pushing your luck.”

He didn’t look away, “you’ve been staring at me since the night I was passed out on that couch. Don’t pretend I’m the only one.”

You snorted softly, trying to laugh it off, “you’re half-naked most of the time even though I’ve given you clothes, I’m not blind.”

“No” he said voice lower now, more certain. “But your are pretending not to want what you want.”

That hit like a spark on dry grass. Immediate. Dangerous. You could feel the flush creeping up on your neck before you could stop it. You lean back slightly forcing some air into your lung.

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth tugging into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but wasn’t far off. “I’m not suggesting anything. Just saying you look at me like you’ve got questions only your hands can answer.”

Your stomach did flips. He was too close to that truth but he wants to be bold, you can be bold too.

“And what if I do?” You asked, voice soft but defiant, “you gonna let me ask them?”

Neteyam through his weight in his elbow that sat between you both in the backrest of the chair getting closer to you, “only if you’re ready for the answers.”

Your mug hit the side table and your turn your body to face him, you felt warm, your heart was beating too hard. You didn’t say anything right away. Neteyam was still, watching you like you were prey. Only this time you weren’t prey. Not tonight.

“You talk a lot for someone who doesn’t trust me,” you said your voice low as your eyes dragged over him, over the lines of his shoulders, the bandage on his chest, the slight smirk that hadn’t left his face, “and you never stop looking either.”

He leaned back slightly, eyes locked on yours. “I never said I didn’t like what I saw.”

You didn’t even hesitate, you leaned in lifting your hand until your fingers curled into the base of his hair at the nape of his neck. His breath hitched almost imperceptibly.

“Nice try, forest boy” you whispered, voice velvet and laced with amusement. “You couldn’t handle all this.”

Your lips were close enough that the brushed the curve of his jaw as you pulled away, just barely, just enough to see the slow, dangerous smirk that unfurled on his face.

His eyes locked onto yours, dark and hungry but playful, sharp like he was weighing your challenge. “Is that a date?” He murmured, his voice was thick with heat and barely restrained ego.

You gave him a slow taunting once over. “It’s a fact.”

He laughed, low, deep and cocky as hell. “Bold words from someone who keeps looking at me like I’m dessert.”

You raise an eyebrow, smile curling. “Please. If I wanted you, you’d know it.”

His smirk deepened, and his voice dropped lower as he replied, “good thing I don’t wait for invitations”

The air between the thickened, neither of them spoke. The space that separated them seemed to disappear with every breath, their gaze locked in a quiet challenge. Not having any move restraint, Neteyam closed the gap, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was everything they both had been trying to ignore.

It was slow at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. His hand that once rested between you on the backrest now gripping the back of your hair. Your own hands falling down his neck to his chest being careful not to touch the bandages. You kissed him back, your pulse quickening. Feeling that weight if the moment.

The kiss deepened and the world outside the cabin disappeared. It was just them, locked in this electrifying connection, both of them eager to see just how far this could go.

But then he stopped. He pulled back, his breath shallow as he looked at you. His golden eyes searched your face, not for permission, he already had that, but for something steadier, safer, maybe something that said this is okay.

You exhaled, almost laughing under your breath at how fast your pulse had jumped. “Well,” you said, your voice low but teasing, “that was either a thank you or you’re really bad at asking for a second helping.”

Neteyam cracked a small grin, still a little dazed but hiding it under bravado. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, tilting his head. “I just wanted to prove you talk too much.”

You raised a brow, smirking. “And that was your plan?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” he shot back, voice warm, full of something light but laced with tension, even now, part of him wanted to lean in again.

The air between you was warm, charged again but no longer heavy. This time, you leaned in first just a little and said, “Maybe next time you should prove it without using your mouth.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head, eyes flicking down to your lips and back up. “Noted,” he murmured.

But neither of you moved to break the closeness, letting the night wrap around them, full of things unspoken, and things not entirely undone.

The air was cooler tonight, a light breeze had you shivering, something he took notice too. “Let’s go inside” he said softly standing and holding out a hand for you. You take it and let him lean you into the cabin locking the door behind you.

You walk into the kitchen first and he follows you, the warm light spilling from the ceiling fixtures brushing over your skin, grounding you again in the quiet house. You didn’t hear him behind you, you only turned and saw him there his larger frame leaning against the counter. He steels in slowly, deliberately, his eyes in you.

He didn’t say a word a first just came closer and closer. His arm wrapped around you brushing against your lower back, it was gentle but firm enough to draw you closer. The air between you sparked again and you didn’t back away from him, neither did he.

You leans up and kiss him this time, deeper, more controlled you both knew you wanted this now, there were no nerves, no hesitation.. His hands cradled your waist fingers splaying under your shirt against your skin. The way your body molded against him as if you had belonged there and neither of your realized until now.

Your hands move from his arms to his chest accidentally pressing around the bandage that covered his wound. He flinched, barely but it was enough for you to pull away instantly.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, trying to catch you breath but your brows were furrowed in concern, you didn’t want to hurt him. Your thumb brushed over the bandage softly the where you pressed against him. “I didn’t meant to-”

“It’s okay,” he said hoarsely, eyes closed for a second. “Just… not all the way healed yet.”

“No I know I’m sorry” your hands run up his neck holding him there. It’s clear the touch hurt him more than he’d like to admit, it wasn’t weakness you saw from him so you never understood why he hid his pain like that. “Neteyam…” you whisper his name softly.

“Tsal lu tam” one of his hands found yours and he held it as if to reassure you. You’re not sure if he realized but it was the first time Neteyam had spoken his mother tongue since he’s been in here. It sounded so different, so natural to him. You had no idea what he said but he caught your attention.

You look up at him as he catches his breath dulling the pain he had just felt. The heat between you had also dulled, tempered by the reminder of his injury.

“You’re healing fast” you say softly to him “but not that fast.”

You both still stood close, too close. He let out a low breath, nose nearly brushing yours, “it is ok” he translated without you even having to ask.

“This…doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” he said, his voice rough, tinged with frustration.

“I know, me too.” You whispered, eyes flickering over his face.

You stood for a while bodied warm, breath shared, but you both knew they crossed that next line now, with him not being fully healed, and you being apart of a completely different world. So much could go wrong now. His hand lingered a second longer before he let go.

The next few days blurred into a rhythm that felt dangerously close to domesticity, dangerous, because it felt too good with him.

Neteyam’s wound was nearly closed up now, it was almost supernatural the way he bounded back, just soreness in his chest mostly since it was almost time for you to remove the stitches that made him stiff at times.

It didn’t stop him from brushing up against him, whether it was walking past you and letting his hand graze your waist. Or standing behind you in the kitchen pressing you up against the counter as you made breakfast in the morning, his lips kissing your neck softly as reached for a fruit placing it in front of you to keep you busy so you won’t move. Or pulling you into those long, slow, steamy kisses that always left you weak in the knees, half forgotten that this wasn’t supposed to happen.

There were times your find yourself wrapped up in his strong arms as he held you against him, the press of his mouth hungry but unhurried on anywhere he could reach like he was memorizing you. Other times it was just a look from across the dinning table, a brief brush of fingers together when he held your hand in his, left you breathless.

Still, you both didn’t sleep in the same room at night even though sometimes you’d lay in bed hoping he came to lay with you but you knew that would take you across another line you both shouldn’t be near. It made your heart ache with want and wariness.

What really stuck with you was the day he first kissed you, the day you hurt him accidentally and he slipped his mother tongue. His voice in na’vi stirred something deep. It was so intimate to you, like he let his guard down and he hadn’t realized. He didn’t notice you heard.

But you did and it stuck.

It followed you for the next week or so, no matter how weak Neteyam made you feel on the inside and outside, no matter what you two laughed about, no matter how sweet or what nicknames he called you out of amusement, or attraction. The nagging thought in the back of your mind didn’t leave.

What happens when he leaves?

The question would not be what if, but when. You saved him life, you know who he is, you know he is someone’s son, someone’s brother. And they still think he is dead, and they miss him. He knows he missed them back and you couldn’t put yourself in a position to keep him from his family. It’s just not something you’d do.

He was healing quickly, another week from now he may very well be fully healed. It took you a month to fall for him, it was so easy. What happens when you have to spend the rest of your years alone? Cause in case you forgot the RDA thinks you’re dead too. You are free from them, but you are not accepted anywhere except with then.

It was late in the day when you finally decided to ask him about it. The sun was setting and Neteyam was sitting in the porch swing, shirtless, bandage long gone, his chest more marked only by a scar that caught the light like a whisper of what happened. You know it wouldn’t go away.

You step out with a mug of tea for him, heart pounding in your chest for reason that had nothing to do with the drink in your hand. He looked up when you approached with a smile tugging his lips and warm eyes and you sat next to him handing him the mug. Your shoulders barely touched unlike how you’ve been for the past week and a half. Never without touching.

You both say silently for a few beats watching the wind roll through the trees.

Then, softly you asked him, “do you miss them? Your family, your friends”

Neteyam didn’t look at you right away. He took a slow sip of his tea and let out a long breath. “Every day.”

You nod, the words felt heavy even though you knew the answer. Your fingers play with the sleeves of your sweater. “It’s been almost four weeks now.”

Your eyes meet the horizon, “you’re almost fully healed. Strong. And I know you’ve been thinking about it.” You turn to him, eyes searching his face. “What are you going to do?”

He was quiet for a long time.

You look away staring back at the swaying trees, “when will you go back?”

Finally, Neteyam turned to face you, eyes narrowing slightly, more serious now, “soon” he admitted with no sign of joy in the word. “I have to. They’re probably out of their minds.”

You nod, heart sinking but you press on, “and what happens then?”

“What do you mean?” He tilited his head.

“I mean…” you swallow. “What happens to us? To me?”

His silence stretched again.

“I’m not like you Neteyam” you say, “there is no going back for me. This-” you gesture vaguely towards the house and the land around you, “-this is my life now, I made my lease with it, staying here forever, I though I’d be doing that alone.” You pause. “And don’t misunderstand me, I have no regret saving you. But you’ve made being here alone…harder.”

He blinked slowly, haze softening but he said nothing.

“I want- no I need to know what I am to you. If I’m just a…. chapter, a strong you’ll take home when you leave. Or am I something else?”

Neteyam shifts, setting his tea down. His golden eyes locked on your, and his usually sarcastic sass and humor was gone, replaced by something raw.

He looked at you for a long moment. His face didn’t change by something in his eyes flickered, conflict? Guilt? The weight of something he didn’t know how to say.

He reached for your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles with surprising gentleness, and when he finally spoke, his voice was steady. Painfully steady.

“I never thought I’d be here this long.” He admitted, “at first, I was just trying to survive. But then you, kept helping me and talking to me and letting me stay here. You were so unbelievably to get comfortable with and that’s saying a lot coming from me. We clicked. You made it hard not to care.”

Your chest ached but you didn’t interrupt.

“I didn’t expect you. You were complicated and I never say you coming. Maybe I didn’t want to.” He glanced up.

You tired to breath, but you felt like your ribs couldn’t move.

“I think about you, too” he said, voice softer now. “I watch you when you’re not looking and I remember every word you every whispered in my ear, the way you touch me when you didn’t mean to. Or when you did cause I…” he couldn’t find the right word, maybe he just didn’t want to say it.

A half smile tugged at his lips. Bittersweet.

“But this…us… it’s not that simple.” He whispered

Silence.

“You have made this cabin so domestic and amazing and I’m so grateful to have spent this time with you. You have your roots here. I don’t, and I know you know that.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You didn’t want to say it aloud.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath was warm between you both. But you couldn’t breathe.

“If I were someone else,” he mumbled, “maybe this could be something simple, easy. But I’m not. I have people waiting for me. I am the first son of Toruk Makto. A war that u walked away from but never stopped being apart of.”

You closed your eyes before you could feel yourself tear up.

“I have to fill a spot that literally no one else can fill. I am a highly skilled, trained warrior. I take down bases single handedly sweetheart. I can’t put this burden on someone else, on my brother. I have a responsibility to my people. To my clan.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.

But he already was.

And you both knew it.

Now you’re quite the air between you changed. You shifted slightly back leaning back against the backrest your knee now touching his.

“You always look at me like that” he turned his head, eyes dark, held something you couldn’t figure out.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m staying.”

Your heart skipped, you don’t answer, you can’t.

He leans in just enough for you to feel his warmth again and he pulled you closer. “Come here, look at me” he pulls you in effortlessly.

“You know I want to,” he murmurs. “You feel it too…don’t you?”

And before you can say anything he kisses you. Your legs were thrown over his as he held you close. The kiss was slow, soft, deep. Not rushed this time just full of everything neither of you had said out loud.

His hand comes to rest on your thigh, warm and steady. You lean into him, one hand curling against his chest where his heart thuds strong beneath her palm. The kiss lingers, pulls her under

The swing creaked beneath you both as he picks you up into his lap, not bringing the kiss. You shift in his lap without thinking swinging one leg over to straddle him properly. His hands gripped your waist under your sweater, you could feel the strength in his arms, solid, grounding you.

“You drive me insane,” he mumbled against your lips, voice rough, breath hot. “You shouldn’t… but you do.”

You kiss hind again in answer, hands threading through this hair, tugging gently until he growled low in his throat, his breath fanning across your pulse point.

You barely notice the night air anymore. Your fingers trailed down his chest, feeling the rise and fall of the muscle and warmth, the way he arched into your touch like he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t want to stop.” You whisper, heart pounding.

His hands stilled in her hips, holding her tight, “then don’t.”

You searched his eyes, those amber eyes darkened with desire, with something deeper and say the truth here. Neither of you wanted to stop. Not tonight.

Neteyam held your gaze for only a heartbeat before he wrapped around you picking you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He effortlessly carried you up the stairs to the bedroom. His stride was steady, but urgent like he waited long enough.

Your arms tightened around his shoulders as he climbed, the heat between you growing with every step. You kiss the side of his neck, and he let out a low, strained sound before he finally dropped you onto the bed making your squeal.

“You sure?” He asked, voice a low rasp, his hands flexing as he grabbing your ankles holding your legs up and apart. And you nod without hesitation.

“I want you.” You voice as you pull him down over you for another kiss. Neteyam kissed down your neck hungrily, leaving marks in his wake. His hands had been slowly pushing your sweat up he pushed over your head quickly and tossed it somewhere on the floor.

He raised his head for a beat staring down at how pretty you looked, blush covering your face, hair messy, topless in front of him. Neteyam didn’t waste anytime hooking his fingers in your shorts and patties tugging them down with haste in one swift movement leaving you completely exposed under him.

“Your so pretty, so fucking pretty like this for me” he mumbles as he kisses down your body holding both your touch tits in his hands he licked and sucked at the skin before he flicked his tongue against your right nipple. Your back arched off the bed with a sweet moan which made his tail whip excitedly behind him.

“Fuck..” you whisper, rolling your eyes back and biting your lip at the feeling of his tongue playing with your nipples. Neteyam sucked until he bruised them before he moved down your stomach to your core.

He held your thighs in his hand spreading them open as he looked at the slick leaking out of your weeping hole. He groaned in satisfaction even though he hasn’t even touched you yet, “baby is this for all for me?”

He knew the answer, he knows it’s his. He wants you to say it. “Yes yes…yours Nete” you sing feverishly, anything for him to get down there and make you feel good.

“Yea that’s mine sevin” he called you a name in his mother tongue and you almost rolled your eyes even though you didn’t know what it meant.

“W-what does that mean?” You asked breathlessly.

“It means pretty, you are so pretty! Fucking gorgeous.” He said before he takes his pants off bare and hard underneath.

Your eyes widen slightly as he stroked himself looking down at your body, just admiring all he already did to it. Thinking about all he’s about to do.

He laid down on the bed next to you and pulled you up and over him. Neteyam’s hand gripped your hair softly pushing you down towards his length, “gonna be a good girl and suck my cock?”

You nod again feverishly, no way you’d say no to his tone, or those words that made you want to ride him until you pass out. You bring your head down willingly licking a stride up his length to the top and swirling your tongue around it.

Neteyam moans which is quickly becoming your favorite sound, your tail whips in the air. He grabs it quickly wrapping it around his around using it to lift your lower body until his face was between your tights. His hands ran the outside of your thighs up to your ass and back down a few times as he rolled his eyes back and mown at your trying to deep throat his cock that clearly didn’t fit in your mouth.

Your tongue twirled around his length anyway you could make it go as he gave your ass a nice slap making you moan against him, vibrations sent shivers down to your cunt. Your life your head for some needs sir gasping loudly as you come up. You stroke his cock while looking between your legs are the absolutely glorious expression on his face,

It was amazing watching him fall apart for your tongue, you could imagine what he’d feel like once he finally got to stretch you out with his cock, and you couldn’t wait.

Finally, Neteyam pulled your lower half down by your ass and licked a stride up your cunt from your clit to your hole, you gagged, and you moaned on his cock not expecting him to do that. He let out an amusement chuckle at that, “oh great mother..” he mumbled, “I love it when you gag on my cock like that” he moaned as you curled your tongue on him. “You like gagging on my cock sevin?” You pull your head off him once more letting out a desperate yes into the air before you go back down.

Your face was messy with spit and precum, but you didn’t care, you wanted him to come in your, outnumbered if you could make him, Neteyam’s tongue worked wonders on your clit you almost stop being about to focus moving your head up and down.

He marked up your thighs turning them purple before he sucked on your clit, his tongue flicked up and down, side to side, in circles until he had your arching your back and crying, he had you so lose to coming when he slapped your ass again, something else you’re growing to like.

Your tail whipped harshly in the air, hitting the headboard, sometimes the the bed next to your legs before it wrapped around Neteyam’s left arm. He knew you were close from how much more you were moaning for him to make you cum.

He greedily didn’t waste a drop of your essence when his tongue fucked it out of you before giving you another slap on the ass and pushing you off him. He quickly switched positions getting back on top of you, “I didn’t know you were so good at that baby, I would’ve asked you to suck a cock so long ago.”

He’s hand came up squishing your cheeks together, it wasn’t to hurt you he just loved the fucked our express you sported, he wanted to touch it.

“Would you have sweet? Sucked my cock if I asked you before?” He asked your sitting up on his knees as he spread you open lining himself up. You nod vigorously at him, “mhmmm.” You replied.

He could cum in the stop from how submissive you were, he was honestly surprised you didn’t fight him down more to be in top, not that he was complaining. Seeing his girl under him like this couldn’t have been a sexier view.

“Ready for me to fuck you baby?”

You nodded messily brushing the hair away from your face.

“No no no I wanna hear you this time, want me to make you cum in my cock sweetheart?” He chuckled.

“Yes, yes pleasesss tey.” You moaned as he slapped his cock head on your clit a couple times before he slowly pushed it in. His head rocked back, and he rolled his eyes when he felt how amazingly tight you were.

“Holy fuck…your so fucking tight.” His body falls over yours his hands on both sides of your head as he looks down at your expression. Blush tenfold, mouth wide open as if you were silently screaming as he stretched you open.

You body was adjusting to him quickly, but it felt like he had cock for days. When you thought you couldn’t fit anymore, he made his entire length fit with a sweet scream from you.

“Oh, my goddd” you roll your eyes, nails digging into his shoulder trying to keep your grip on something. You moans turned to pants as he started to slowly push in and out of you. His hair fell over, acting like a curtain that blocked you from the outside world.

His eyes were bright with desire as he stared down at you. “You feel so good!” You moan between thrust. Which made him smile widely canines in full display. He stuffed his face in your neck and grazed them against your already bruised up skin.

“Fuckkkkk me harder! Please tey” you moan as you rack your hands in his hair pushing it back so you could see his face. You smile you as him biting your lip, but it didn’t stop your little moans that he fucked out of you.

Neteyam chuckled as how needy you were for more, his arms went down to your thighs to hold them, pulling your body into his thrust. His grip was strong you’re sure you’d have bruises literally when he was down. Your tail lashed until it wrapped around his strong thigh trying to ground yourself.

“‘m gonna cum! Gonna cum tey” you mewl into the air along with your sweet moans. Your nails raked scratch marks on his back and arms, he’s fucking you so good. Neteyam fucked you like it was his one and only job in the whole world.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything else before your roll your eyes back and scream, arching your back you came squirting in his thighs and abdomen. Your eyes squeezed shut as you moan from the stimulation.

He slowed down to admire your work, but you quickly stopped him, “don’t stop, don’t stop! Keep going! Cum!” You demanded he came for you now.

Your mind was delirious your only thoughts were his big hands on your body, the feeling on his cock bullying its way into your stomach felt incredible. And now that you were being overstimulated. You wanted nothing more than for him to empty his load in you and put you to bed.

And that’s exactly what he planned on doing. Neteyam smiled wickedly as he pulled out and flipped you over on all fours. “Ready to make me cum sweet?” He pulled you up and down positioning you properly and spoke in your ear as he leaned over your body.

You nod feverishly wanting nothing more than that, “yeah? Gonna be a good girl and make me cum?”

“Yes, yes yes yesssss” you moan into the air loudly as he reentered you and started to pound away. First his hands slapped your ass again, grabbing your hips and pulling you in. Neteyam felt like he was a different kind of depth from this angle, he was snug in your cunt. So much so that he was fucking you, but you couldn’t make a sound. Every thrust knocked the air out of you.

That was until he started to fuck faster. Your upped body dropped to the bed head turned to the side so you could see him from the corner of your eye but it didn’t last long, he laced his fingers in your hair pulling you back up so you had no choice but to help hold yourself back up. You couldn’t do anything but scream, it was literally screaming or nothing, you couldn’t find it in yourself to quiet down at all. His fucking just didn’t allow that.

“Look at me sweetheart, being such a good fucking girl for me” he teased and taunted. It actually made you feel pretty, you wanted to be like this for him, you didn’t want him to have anyone but you like this either.

You wanted to nod but his grip on your hair stopped you. You didn’t expect him to pull you back more, his thrust were monstrous but his grip was gentle bending you back in ways you didn’t know you could bend, your head was looking up and him and he leaned down giving you a slowly kiss.

You wanted to cum again but your just couldn’t voice it this time, your voice was not gone, you just could reach it from the angle you were in so without warning again your squirt messing him up some more. Your jaw was slack as he let go of your hair and grabbed your arms by your elbow pulling your body back to him.

You couldn’t think straight you started to push back even more wanting him to fuck you harder, but you couldn’t find the words, and harder he fucked until he emptied his entire soul into your cunt. The groan he let out was animalistic, if you were so fucked out on him you might have gotten scared.

Nevertheless Neteyam eased his cock out of you watching his cum ooze out of your now gaping hole. He rolled his eyes in satisfaction as he dropped down next to you, immediately pulling you into his embrace. He snuggles his face into your neck as he felt your pant to catch your breath.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” He whispered into your skin.

“Mhmm, I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me” you nod softly, whispering that words, “I’m great” you turn your body to face his molding into his touch as he held you impossibly close, with a smile.

“I guess we established I can more than keep up.” He chuckled softly making you giggle. He picked you up taking you to the bathroom to clean up standing under the shower with you, wrapped around your frame. He didn’t take his hands off you for a second, he didn’t want to be away from you. And neither did you.

Neteyam took your to bed and got in with your wrapping his arms around you pulling the blanket over both of you. It was a bit earlier than you normally went to sleep but you were complaining. You just wanted to be here, with him.

You press a kiss on his chest where his heart was before whispering, “this wasn’t just…nothing. Right?”

His hand paused on her back, he took a breath, then another. “No” he said, voice soft, thoughtful. “It wasn’t nothing.” He kissed to top of your head.

But it wasn’t a promise either.

He tilted your chin up gently. His golden eyes meeting yours. They were searching your face like they were trying to understand something even he couldn’t name, “you’re different,” he murmured. “From anyone I’ve ever known.”

You smiled, a little sad, “that’s not always a good thing.”

“It is to me.”

After that you didn’t say anything snuggling against him as sleep found both of you.

The days that followed blurred together in a quiet, desperate sort of bliss.

Neteyam was healed now, at least, enough to walk without wincing, to stretch without pulling at the scar that had once marked his chest. His strength had returned, slow but steady, and with it came the quiet understanding that time was running out. That he would leave soon.

But neither of you said it.

Instead, you both clung to the days you had left.

He moved through your space like he belonged there now. Not as a guest, not as the stranger you’d patched up on your couch, but as someone who knew exactly where the mugs were kept, who always reached for the same towel in the morning, who leaned against the counter behind her while you cooked and stole bites with a lazy smirk before you could even plate the food.

And you let him.

You let him wrap his arms around your waist from behind while you stood at the sink, let him kiss the spot beneath your ear that made your breath catch. You let him wrap you both in a blanket when the nights got cold. He would tease you, calling you tiny from how well you fit in that space.

You laughed too much, touched too much, kissed like you didn’t want to stop. And sometimes, you didn’t.

You danced in the kitchen one night to music playing low from an old speaker, his hand warm and firm against the small of your back, your cheek resting on his shoulder as if it had always been meant to fit there.

It started as a joke, you were washing dishes, swaying with the song singing it softly from the speaker on the windowsill. It was an old song. Something smooth and low, something just enough to make your hips sway with rhythm. Neteyam had been leaning against the counter, chewing the last bite of fruit, watching your with that quiet little smirk that had become all too familiar.

“You’re dancing,” he noted.

You turn and look at him over your shoulder, “and you’re not.”

He steals forward, exaggerated and smug, “you’re saying you want me to?”

“I’m saying you couldn’t keep up,” you teased, flicking water in his direction.

His eyes gleamed with challenge.

Before you could retreat, he was there, grabbing the towel from your hands, tossing it aside, and pulling you in by the waist. Your laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, light and surprised, your fingers gripping his arms for balance as he spun you into the open space of the kitchen.

You hadn’t expected him to actually be good at it.

But he was, surprisingly graceful, moving with a rhythm that came as naturally as breathing. His steps were confident, fluid, his hands strong and sure at your waist. He twirled you suddenly, catching you with an arm around your back when you stumbled, dizzy with laughter.

“I thought you said I couldn’t keep up?” he said, voice smug near your ear.

“That was before you cheated,” you accused, cheeks flushed and eyes shining.

He grinned, slow and smug. “You just don’t know how to be led.”

Before you could reply, he dipped you low, one hand firm at your back, the other holding your hand as you arched with a breathless gasp, your hair brushing the wooden floor. You clutched his shoulder for balance, eyes locked with his. The music kept playing, but in that moment, you could barely hear it.

He didn’t pull you up right away.

Just stood there, holding you like that, close and quiet, his expression unreadable, but something simmered beneath it.

And you suddenly forgot how to breathe when he leaned down and kissed you, deep and passionately.

Sometimes, you caught him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking, after dinner, when you were tucked into the corner of the couch in one of his oversized shirts; in the garden, when the light caught your hair just right. And when you looked back, he didn’t look away.

But he never said anything. And neither did you.

You kissed like lovers. You moved like partners. You lived like something close to more.

But neither of you used the word.

Because the word would mean permanence.

And this? This wasn’t permanent.

The morning he was supposed to leave came too fast.

The air felt heavy and still, as if the forest itself knew this was the end of something. You stood in the kitchen, a warm mug of tea cupped between your hands, untouched. The steam curled lazily toward the ceiling and vanished, just like everything else good lately seemed to.

He hadn’t come downstairs yet. But you knew he was awake.

You’d heard his footsteps moving upstairs before the sun had fully risen. He always woke before you now, falling into your rhythm like he was meant to be here. For over a month now, he’d been a presence you could rely on. You’d gotten used to the way his voice rumbled through your house, to the way he touched things gently, to the sound of him breathing next to you.

He was leaving. And you didn’t know how to hold onto something that was never really yours.

You heard him descending the stairs, and your breath caught without permission. When you turned, he was there, shoulders squared, spear-clothes replaced with something more familiar to him. A satchel was slung over his shoulder, and for the first time since the day you found him, he looked like he belonged to another world.

His world.

Not yours.

He stepped closer, wordless, and took the mug from your hands, setting it gently on the counter. His fingers grazed yours. They lingered for half a second too long. It wasn’t an accident. You didn’t pull away.

You said quietly, “You don’t have to say anything. I get it.”

He held your gaze. The look in his eyes was careful, unreadable—until it wasn’t. You saw it in the way he blinked a little too slowly, like he was trying not to let it show. The conflict. The sadness.

“You shouldn’t be alone out here,” he said.

You gave a half-hearted smile. “I was alone before you. I’ll be fine after.”

He didn’t agree. But he didn’t argue either.

Instead, he stepped forward and rested his forehead against yours. His hands lifted to your cheeks, cradling your face like something breakable. You closed your eyes and let your breath catch in your throat. The moment stretched, full of everything you couldn’t say—everything you wanted to ask but already knew the answer to.

“So that’s it?” you whispered.

There was no reply.

He kissed you. Soft. Intentional. Not rushed. It wasn’t heat or hunger—it was a goodbye. His lips moved against yours like he was trying to memorize you. His hands trembled slightly at your jaw, but he didn’t let go. Not until you had to breathe.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours one last time.

And then he stepped back.

You didn’t stop him. You wanted to, but your feet wouldn’t move.

He looked at you once more. Just once.

He stood there for a moment, shoulders tense, back straight—like he was bracing himself. Then he looked over, just enough for you to see the conflict in his eyes.

“I keep thinking if I look at you too long, I’ll stay.”

His voice was low, almost hoarse, but steady. “You made this place feel… like more than just a place to heal. And I wasn’t ready for that.”

His fingers tightened on the handle. “But this, whatever this is between us, it’s not nothing. You know that, right?”

He looked at you long enough to see you cover your lips with your fingers and nod.

Then he turned, opened the door, and walked out.

The air was thick with the warmth of the afternoon sun as the waves lapped gently against the shore, and the village hummed with life. Tuk and a few of the younger Metkayina children were playing near the edge of the water when the distant figure of a Na’vi appeared. At first, they couldn’t be sure, but then—

“Neteyam?” Tuk’s voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the air like a knife.

In an instant, her eyes widened, and a breathless gasp escaped her lips. “NETEYAM!”

Her scream rang out, drawing the attention of everyone around. Tuk’s small body shot forward, running as fast as her legs could carry her. Her feet kicked up sand as she rushed toward the figure now stepping onto the shore. The other villagers froze for a moment, watching in shock as the younger girl sprinted toward her brother.

Tuk reached him first, her small arms wrapping around his legs as she sobbed, her tears flowing freely. “You’re alive… You’re alive!” she cried, her voice cracking with emotion.

Tuk never let go of him, clinging desperately to her brother as she looked up at him, still not fully believing her eyes.

Neteyam knelt slightly to pick her up, arms wrapping tightly around her. “Hey, little one,” he whispered, burying his face in her hair. “I missed you too.”

Lo’ak didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stared, lips parted, his heart thundering in his chest. Then, like something snapped loose inside him, he moved, fast, running to them, barely stopping before he threw his arms around his older brother in a crushing hug. Tuk was squeezed between them, but neither seemed to notice.

“Neteyam,” Lo’ak breathed, voice cracking. “You’re…here.”

Neteyam laughed under his breath, voice thick. “I here baby bro.

Behind them, Kiri came forward, blinking rapidly against her tears. She smiled through them as she reached out to touch Neteyam’s arm. Since one arm held tuk and the other rested on the back of Lo’ak’s head, Neteyam rest his head on kiri’s when she hugged him. “Brother…you are safe.” he whispered as if to confirm it was him.

He had missed them so much, he thought about this day everyday since you saved his laugh.

“Where are mom and dad?” Neteyam asked them.

“They are at home...” Kiri spoke up softly.

“Come let us go to them,” Neteyam ushered them along putting Tuk down for her to run ahead, Lo’ak walked next to him with Neteyam’s arm still on the back of his head and Kiri holding his other hand on the other side of him.

They walk along the path together until they made it in front of the Mauri. Tuk was hyperventilating trying to explain to them Neteyam was there but her words were so fast and jumbled they didn’t understand.

Tuk burst in with a breathless cry, her voice high and jumbled. “He’s here! He’s— I saw him— outside—he’s here!”

Jake’s brow furrowed. Neytiri looked up immediately, alarm in her eyes. “Tuk,” she said carefully, “slow down—who is here?”

But Tuk just spun, pointing to the entrance, tears already brimming. “Just look!”

Jake and Neytiri exchanged a glance, uncertain, cautious, and then stood, slowly, like they were afraid to hope.

And then he stepped into view.

Neteyam stood tall in the doorway, backlit by the soft glow of the evening. His body was leaner than before, marked with faint scars and sun-darkened skin, but he was there. Whole. Alive.

Neytiri didn’t breathe. Her eyes locked onto his face, wide and wet before her lips even parted.

“Neteyam?” she whispered, voice cracking.

Jake was frozen beside her, shoulders drawn tight with tension that hadn’t left him since the day they lost him.

But when Neteyam took one step forward and murmured, “Hi, sa’nok,” that was all it took.

Neytiri let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a prayer as she crossed the distance in seconds, throwing her arms around him. Her hands clutched at his back, his hair, his face, like she needed to touch every part to believe it was real.

Jake was only a breath behind her, wrapping both of them up in his arms.

Neteyam, once the calmest in the family, trembled under their grip.

“I’m sorry,” he said, barely audible, voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Agh!” Neytiri hissed cutting him off, “you are not at fault my son.” She reassumed him quickly.

“I should have come back sooner, I was healing. I am sorry.” Neteyam continued softly.

“All that matters is that you’re here now.” Jake said as he held his face looking him in the eyes. “You are so strong, and we are so proud of you.”

Neytiri nodded as she sobbed hugging him once more. “Thank you, great mother! Thank you!”

Neteyam gave a small, broken laugh. And then Tuk wrapped herself around his side, Kiri touched his arm gently, and even Lo’ak, head lowered and eyes red, pulled him into a fierce hug from behind.

He was home.

They sat together in the family mauri, close like they hadn’t been in weeks—no, months. The woven floor creaked softly beneath them as if it remembered their weight. Neytiri hadn’t stopped touching him: her hand brushed over his arm again and again like she couldn’t believe he was solid, real. Jake sat beside her, face unreadable, but his eyes never left Neteyam.

Kiri and Tuk sat cross-legged in front of him, and Lo’ak curled beside his older brother with his head on his shoulder. The silence that had followed the reunion lingered for only a few more seconds before Jake spoke.

“Where the hell have you been?”

The question wasn’t sharp, his voice cracked, it was full of awe and something that sounded like fear still clinging to his voice. Neytiri looked at Neteyam quickly, her brows pinched, echoing the question without saying it aloud.

Lo’ak added quietly, “We thought something must’ve taken you. One minute you were on the rock and when we returned you were just…gone.”

“Were you taken?” Kiri’s voice was gentler, more cautious. “Did someone find you? How did you survive?”

Neteyam’s eyes dropped to the floor, his fingers moving slowly against the edge of the mat. “It’s… a long story,” he said finally.

Jake frowned. “We have time.”

But Neteyam just shook his head. “I was lucky. That’s all. I got out of the water. I healed.”

“Alone?” Neytiri asked softly.

His jaw shifted slightly. “Not exactly.”

They all looked at each other, waiting, the questions thick in the air.

But Neteyam didn’t offer more.

Lo’ak frowned. “You’re not gonna tell us what happened?”

“I’m here. That’s what matters.” His voice was calm, but firm. Unmovable as he rested his hand on Lo’ak’s head once more.

There was a long pause.

Jake’s shoulders sank slightly, but he didn’t press. “Alright. We won’t push.”

Neytiri reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. “You’ll tell us when you’re ready.”

Neteyam met her eyes, a flash of guilt there, but also protectiveness. “Yeah.”

The silence settled again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was filled with the sound of being together again. The sound of breathing. Of warmth. Of a family no longer broken.

But the mystery remained, where had Neteyam gone? And who had helped him heal?

Over the next two weeks, the cracks in Neteyam’s armor began to show, subtle at first, but impossible to ignore.

It was little things at first, like the way he’d go rigid at the sudden crack of a fish net snapping, or the sharp clang of a pot dropped onto stone. He would still himself completely, eyes darting around before relaxing, but always a second too late, always too visibly. The others noticed. His father said nothing. Neytiri frowned often, quietly watching him from across the marui.

He wasn’t cruel to his siblings, but he wasn’t as patient as he’d always been. One afternoon, Tuk was playing with her shell collection, chattering brightly, when she accidentally dropped one. It cracked sharply on the floor and she let out a high-pitched scream, part startle, part sadness.

Neteyam was on her in an instant.

He knelt in front of her, hands gentle as he turned her arms and checked her legs for injury, for blood, for anything. But there was nothing. Just a wide-eyed little sister with a broken toy. He exhaled shakily, then said, just a touch too sharp, too strained, “Why? You have nothing to be screaming for.”

Tuk’s lip trembled. She didn’t cry, but her small voice whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He softened immediately, brushing her hair back with a tender sigh. “No. I’m sorry, Tuk. I didn’t mean it like that.”

His thoughts spiraled in quiet waves, always leading back to you. How you held his face in your hands. How you smelled after your shower. How your fingers twitched when you embroidered, always pulling too tight on the first stitch. The memory of your breath, warm against his throat.

He tried to bury it, keep himself moving. He picked up the bracelet work again. Lo’ak walked in one day, brows furrowed. “You don’t even give those to people.”

Neteyam didn’t answer. He just kept weaving the pattern you’d taught him. Tight, crooked in one corner. Familiar.

It was the singing they noticed first.

Soft and low, barely more than a breath, but always the same melody. A tune no one in the family had heard before, one with an unfamiliar rise and fall, notes that sounded like comfort… and ache. Neteyam hummed it without realizing, usually when his hands were busy—carving, weaving, or washing. Even when he walked along the shoreline at dusk, the melody trailed behind him like a shadow.

His siblings started to pick up on it. Kiri heard it while braiding her hair one morning and paused, tilting her head toward him. Lo’ak noticed it when they were spearfishing—Neteyam would drift off, his lips moving soundlessly until he jerked himself back to the moment. Tuk hummed it too, mimicking him unconsciously, but when she asked where it came from, Neteyam just looked away.

The song belonged to you, though he never said your name.

The silence he carried was louder than any melody.

And the sleep… or lack of it… that was next.

He didn’t sleep on his pillow anymore. Not like before. Instead, he wrapped his arms around it, buried his face in the cottony middle, and curled himself tight like he was afraid of unraveling. His tail no longer lay relaxed across the woven mat; it was tucked close to his body, tense. Every few hours, he’d toss and turn, then sit up, wide-eyed and disoriented, breathing hard like he’d just been yanked from some far-off place.

Some nights, he paced in front of the marui, arms folded tight across his chest, jaw tense. Other nights he sat on the edge of his sleeping mat, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor while the rest of the family lay still. His eyes looked bruised with fatigue, but he never said he was tired.

And when he did sleep, it was only for a little while. A flicker of peace, until something small, a shout, a crashing wave, a shell hitting the ground, snapped him back to the surface.

Like the day Kiri accidentally dropped a basket and screamed when it fell apart. Neteyam had flinched so hard he nearly stumbled. He whipped his head to look at her, eyes scanning her arms, her legs, checking for blood, for breaks, for pain. But she was fine just startled. And when he realized there were no injuries, his face shifted.

“What the fuck Kiri? Get a grip. Literally,” he said, calm, but short, his voice clipped and colder than she’d ever heard it.

Kiri blinked up at him, surprised. His hands were still on her shoulders, but his touch was lighter now. Gentle again. Like he knew he’d overstepped but didn’t have the words to fix it. He stood without another word and walked away. Later that night, he brought her a sweetfruit and kissed her hair in apology, but didn’t bring it up again.

His parents were quiet about it, but they noticed too.

They saw how he’d zone out during meals, fingers moving in patterns they couldn’t recognize, embroidery, little woven strands, sometimes bracelets he didn’t give to anyone. The designs were different from the ones he learned growing up. Too intricate, too… specific. Clearly taught by someone else but who? They couldn’t say. They watched how he braided strands of twine for hours, all different colors and patterns, then tucked it under his sleeping mat like a secret.

Jake and Neytiri exchanged glances but didn’t press. Not yet. Because their son had come back to them alive… but not entirely whole.

And while they didn’t know who he was grieving, they could see it in everything he did.

Even the way he hummed that melody in the middle of the night, just loud enough to keep himself company, just quiet enough to mourn.

The glow of the bioluminescent lanterns outside the marui flickered faintly, casting soft light through the woven walls. Neteyam lay on his side on the sleeping mat, eyes half open, his arm loosely clutching the pillow he’d once only used for support. Now, he held it as if it were grounding him, something to anchor him in the silence of his own mind.

Behind him, Lo’ak’s forehead was pressed gently to his back, breathing slow and even. He’d done this every night since Neteyam came home. Said nothing about it. Just curled up behind him like he needed to be sure he was real, listening to the steady beat of his heart before he could sleep himself.

A soft rustle stirred the quiet, and Neteyam’s ears twitched before he turned his head slightly toward the sound.

Neytiri stood at the entrance of the marui, her presence light, careful not to startle. Her eyes searched his in the dim glow soft, loving, concerned.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked gently, crouching beside him.

Neteyam didn’t speak at first. Just blinked slowly, then nodded. “Some nights are harder than others.”

She reached forward, brushing her fingers through his braids the way she had when he was younger. “You do not have to hold it all inside, ma ’itan.”

“I’m not,” he murmured. Then quieter, “Not all of it.”

Neytiri tilted her head, watching his face. “You jump when things fall. You are quiet when you used to laugh. You are here, but your spirit is still traveling.”

He swallowed, shifting slightly, careful not to wake Lo’ak. “I’m just… tired, sa’nok. That’s all.”

“You hold your pillow like someone who misses the weight of a body beside them,” she said softly, her tone tender, not accusing. “You hum songs you did not know before. And you walk at night like the stars will answer you.”

Neteyam’s jaw tightened, but his eyes glistened with something unspoken.

“I am not asking for your secrets,” Neytiri added. “Just your heart. Let it rest, even for a little while.”

“I’m trying,” he whispered. His voice cracked just slightly. “I really am.”

She leaned in and kissed his forehead, then rested her own there for a long moment. “You don’t have to carry the whole war inside you anymore.”

When she pulled back, she smiled gently, brushing a thumb along his temple. “Goodnight, ma yawntu.”

“Goodnight, sa’nok,” he murmured.

Neytiri glanced at Lo’ak still sleeping soundly behind him, pressed to his back like a second heartbeat. Her eyes softened again. Then, without another word, she slipped out, leaving the siblings bundled in quiet comfort, one dreaming, the other still chasing peace behind heavy eyelids.

The sun had barely climbed above the tide when voices echoed outside the Sully family mauri — familiar, lighthearted. Lo’ak stepped out first to greet them, the sound of splashing feet in the shallows carrying over the breeze.

Aonung and Tsireya.

It had been nearly a month since the clan believed Neteyam was dead, taken by the sea before they could say goodbye. Now, he was alive. Healing. Quiet. Changed.

Neteyam sat cross-legged on his sleeping mat, back straight, hands loosely clasped. His shoulders tensed when he heard their laughter. It was strange, he’d missed them. He’d once teased Aonung over every clumsy spear throw and laughed until his stomach hurt at Tsireya’s mimicry of her father’s scolding tone. But today, something coiled tight in his chest.

They stepped into view.

Tsireya.

His breath caught.

She looked just like you in the sunlight.

The wide, curious eyes. The soft shape of her mouth when she smiled. The way her hair framed her face, falling like waves over her shoulders. His mind buckled beneath the weight of memories, the scent of your skin after a shower, your laugh when you danced around the cabin, your fingers pulling thread through cloth as you taught him embroidery. Tsireya’s presence was a mirror, not a perfect one, but close enough to sting.

He stood slowly, greeting them with a half-smile. “You came to see if I’m real.”

Tsireya laughed, warm and sweet. “You’re not a ghost. That much is clear.”

Neteyam’s eyes didn’t leave hers. Not a ghost, she said, but he felt like one, like something still tethered to someone not here.

Aonung clapped him on the shoulder. “You look like you wrestled a palulukan and won. Barely.”

They laughed. Neteyam smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Later, when they all sat for lunch, Neteyam made space next to him and wordlessly tapped the mat, motioning Tsireya over. She glanced at Lo’ak, who gave her a subtle nod. She settled beside Neteyam, and he immediately rested his hand on her knee, a gesture so natural, no one questioned it. Except Lo’ak, who paused mid-bite.

Neteyam didn’t notice. He was focused on the way Tsireya’s lips curled as she bit into a piece of grilled fish, not because he was interested in her, but because he remembered the way you did that. The way you’d wrinkle your nose at certain spices. The way you’d hum without realizing it when food made you happy.

He leaned in and murmured something, making her laugh again. She was flattered — she thought he was just being sweet. He’d always been her best friend, like a big brother in a way. She assumed this was just him returning to who he was.

But Neteyam wasn’t who he was. Not anymore.

The longer the visit went on, the more attached he became. He walked with Tsireya to the reef where she helped tend to the clan’s younger swimmers, always a step too close. When she crouched to fix a child’s fins, he stood behind her, hand resting lightly on her shoulder. When she laughed, his eyes softened. When she smiled, his lips parted, as if a memory had just hit him like a wave.

And he didn’t even realize what he was doing.

Lo’ak noticed, though. He noticed everything. The way Neteyam always found a reason to pull Tsireya aside. The way he no longer sat by him at meals, how he had a hand on her arm, her waist, her shoulder, always.

Lo’ak watched his brother quietly spiral, swallowed by a grief he never named, and a need he didn’t understand.

And Neteyam?

Neteyam just kept seeing you.

Everywhere.

It started with subtle glances. The way Neteyam’s eyes lingered too long when Tsireya smiled. The way he’d fall silent mid-sentence just to watch her laugh. At first, no one said anything. Maybe they thought it was joy, the kind of light-heartedness that came with healing. Maybe they were just relieved to see him alive.

But it didn’t stop.

It got worse.

Neteyam followed her. Everywhere. If Tsireya helped prepare meals, he was beside her, his hands brushing hers when she reached for seaweed or fish. If she went to the shoreline to teach the younglings, he stood behind her, arms crossed, eyes never straying. When she turned, she always found him already watching.

It was obsessive, quiet and unspoken, but visible in every move.

When she sat, he sat behind her and pulled her between his legs like it was instinct. When she laughed, he laughed, even if he didn’t catch the joke. When she reached for something, his hand was already there. Too eager. Too close.

Tsireya didn’t question it.

Neteyam had always been kind, comforting. And she thought, maybe after what he went through, he just needed familiarity. He was her friend. Maybe he missed her.

But it wasn’t her he was seeing.

It was you.

Every movement, every look, every word she spoke it reminded him of you. But not in a nostalgic, gentle way. No, it consumed him. When she smiled, he swore his heart clenched. When she walked ahead of him, he blinked and saw you — your hair bouncing as you turned to grin at him. When she laughed, he imagined your voice beneath hers. It all blurred. Like a fever dream. Like he was drunk on a memory.

And his family began to notice.

Kiri watched him during dinner, chewing slowly, her brow furrowed. The way he always offered Tsireya food first. The way his arm always found its way around her back. The way he no longer looked at anyone else.

Tuk noticed too. She was too young to name it, but she stared a lot. Her big eyes darting between her big brother and Tsireya like she didn’t understand what she was seeing, but she saw the way he stared at her. Almost in the same way she noticed Lo’ak looks at her.

Neytiri, sitting near the hearth one evening, turned to Jake and whispered, “He’s holding on to something. Do you see it?”

Jake only nodded. His eldest son sat across from them, hands idly weaving another bracelet. Another one with strange knots and colors. Patterns he never used before. Patterns only you had taught him.

But it was Lo’ak who saw the most.

Because Tsireya was his.

He’d been so happy when Neteyam came home. He missed him more than words could carry. And for a while, everything felt whole again. But it cracked slowly — painfully — when he started seeing Neteyam reaching for Tsireya’s hand before he could. When Neteyam stood too close. Sat too close. Touched her hair without asking.

When Lo’ak came back from a dive one afternoon, dripping and breathless, he saw Neteyam laughing with Tsireya — his hands gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She smiled, oblivious.

Lo’ak stopped mid-step, staring.

Neteyam didn’t even notice him.

Didn’t see him.

That night, Lo’ak didn’t sleep. He lay on his side, staring at his brother’s back, the rise and fall of Neteyam’s breathing. And like every night since Neteyam came home, Lo’ak gently rested his forehead between his brother’s shoulder blades, listening to his heartbeat.

But that night, Neteyam’s heart was racing. Too fast.

Lo’ak whispered, “What’s going on with you, bro?” But Neteyam didn’t answer. He never answered.

The next day, Neteyam got quiet. Detached. Like he knew something was wrong and couldn’t explain it. He started singing softly while working, that same strange song again. The one no one recognized. Over and over. A lullaby. Your lullaby.

Neteyam’s affection for Tsireya was no longer subtle. His family had begun noticing it in clearer moments, when he wasn’t trying to appear collected. One afternoon, while Lo’ak was off gathering shellfish, Neteyam spotted Tsireya weaving fishing baskets with his sister and without hesitation, walked over, crouched beside her, and brushed her hair back from her cheek with a tenderness that startled even her. She smiled, unsure, assuming it was one of their old familiar gestures, but Kiri saw the look in Neteyam’s eyes, intense, distracted, reverent and felt something in her chest tighten.

During a communal meal, he asked Tsireya to sit next to him, again. When she hesitated, glancing between him and Lo’ak, Neteyam gently took her wrist and guided her down beside him, handing her a piece of roasted fruit with a soft smile. Neytiri watched silently from across the mat, her eyes narrowing just slightly.

Neteyam started making things for her. One evening, Kiri walked past him at the edge of the reef, where he sat alone, stringing a bracelet with the exact knot pattern you had taught him. But when Kiri asked who it was for, he tucked it behind his back and murmured, “No one. Just practice.” Hours later, it was braided into Tsireya’s hair.

Lo’ak tried to ignore it at first. Tried to explain it away, Neteyam was healing, disoriented, confused. But it kept happening. Neteyam started offering to escort Tsireya during her clan duties, would walk with her in silence, his gaze fixed forward, occasionally slipping his hand into hers like it was the most natural thing in the world. Once, when she stopped to fix her net, he sat behind her, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist while she worked. Lo’ak saw them. He didn’t say anything. Not yet.

The others noticed too. Aonung, usually quick to tease, grew quiet, throwing glances between Neteyam and Lo’ak with a furrowed brow. Kiri kept her distance, choosing silence over confrontation, though her gaze lingered on her older brother longer than usual, trying to decipher what had broken in him.

Neteyam was drifting. Delusional in a way he couldn’t admit to himself, not even when the truth pressed down like a wave about to pull him under.

He didn’t even see Tsireya anymore.

Not really.

Every time she laughed, it was your laugh he heard light, airy, wrapped in something only he had ever known. When her fingers brushed his, his skin prickled like yours had touched him instead, soft and certain, with that quiet boldness you always carried. Tsireya would smile up at him, wide-eyed and kind, and all he could think was there you are.

In the curve of Tsireya’s mouth, he saw the way you used to smirk at him when you knew he was watching you. In her eyes, he swore he caught the same stormy glint you’d get when you were teasing him or trying not to smile too wide. Her hair when it clung to her shoulders after a dive looked just like yours had that night when he kissed you in the kitchen, his hands in your wet hair, your mouth all heat.

It happened slowly, then all at once.

One morning, Tsireya handed him a fruit and her fingers grazed his palm, and he smiled—not at her, but at you. He looked right at her and called her by your name. Softly. Naturally. Like it was always meant to be that way.

She tilted her head, confused, but Neteyam didn’t notice, he didn’t even notice the way he brushed it off when she questioned it changing the subject to something that distracted her..

In his mind, you were smiling at him. You’d just brought him something to eat, you were laughing like you did when he stole bites from your fingers. You were standing right there in front of him, just like always.

When Tsireya asked him to help gather shells for the clan’s ritual, he agreed without hesitation, thinking it was you asking him to take a walk by the shoreline, to do something domestic and sweet and yours. He barely heard her voice anymore. His brain filtered it into something softer. Your tone. Your cadence.

At dinner, when everyone was seated and Lo’ak beckoned Tsireya to sit beside him, Neteyam’s hand was already tugging her wrist toward the spot next to him. He didn’t even glance at Lo’ak. His eyes were glued to her no, you like if he let go, you’d disappear all over again.

And when she settled beside him and laughed about something someone said, he turned to her and whispered, “You’re beautiful when you laugh like that.”

She blinked. “Neteyam?”

But he didn’t even hear the hesitation in her voice. He only saw the faint light on her cheeks, the way her hair swayed against her collarbone. He leaned in like it was natural. Like he’d done it a hundred times before. Because he had with you.

“You always do that,” he said, voice low, fond. “You tilt your head like that when you’re trying not to blush.”

Tsireya blinked again. “What?”

But Neteyam only smiled, thumb brushing the edge of her jaw gently. He was gone. Fully, entirely lost in you.

To him, this wasn’t Tsireya anymore.

It hadn’t been for days.

It was you, back from the cabin, here in front of him again. He didn’t realize how often he whispered your name. How his voice wrapped around it like a prayer. How his grip lingered too long, his eyes saw someone else, his heart responded to a ghost.

The only person who noticed the unraveling was Lo’ak.

He watched his brother sit beside his girlfriend like she belonged to him. Watched him touch her hair with a faraway look. Watched him smile at her like she held the entire sky in her hands—and not once, not once, did he call her by name.

Lo’ak’s chest tightened with dread. Because he didn’t know who this version of Neteyam was. And he was scared to find out what it would take to bring his brother back.

The tide was low and gentle that afternoon, the water pulling rhythmically at the sand with soft hushing sounds. Lo’ak was returning from a dive task, surfacing with a bundle of netted sea urchins slung over his shoulder, droplets dripping from his hair as he approached the shore.

That’s when he saw them.

Tsireya sat on a woven mat of dried reeds, a shallow basket resting between her crossed legs, her fingers nimbly sorting through small, polished shells and tiny coral pieces. And behind her—Neteyam. Legs outstretched on either side of her, his arms looped loosely around her shoulders, chin brushing the side of her head, body curved around hers like she belonged to him.

They were laughing.

Not loudly, just that shared, intimate kind of laughter between two people lost in each other’s orbit. Neteyam was murmuring something to her, soft and teasing, his voice low near her ear. She leaned her head back lightly against his chest and smiled, relaxed, content.

He plucked a shell from her hand, pretending to inspect it dramatically before holding it up in mock approval. “This one?” he asked, eyes on her. “Too pretty to be left alone.”

She giggled, reaching up to nudge his chin. “You’re not even helping.”

“I am,” he protested lightly, wrapping his arm more snugly around her. “I’m the emotional support.”

Lo’ak stood still, halfway between the ocean and the sand, saltwater still clinging to his skin. At first he thought maybe it was innocent. His brother and his girlfriend had always been close. But something was different now. Something in the way Neteyam held her like it was second nature. The way his fingers brushed hers when she reached into the basket. The way his gaze lingered on her smile a fraction too long. The way he looked at her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

It hit Lo’ak like a sucker punch.

Neteyam wasn’t looking at Tsireya like a friend.

He was looking at her like she was his.

Like she was someone he needed.

Lo’ak’s gut twisted. The weight of it made his chest feel tight. He watched for one more second, then turned sharply on his heel and stormed up the path, each step heavier than the last.

He couldn’t ignore it anymore. Tsireya was the love of his life, Neteyam knew that before he got shot.

Lo’ak stormed into the family mauri, chest heaving, dripping wet from the ocean, salt still clinging to his skin. The sack of gathered shells fell from his shoulder with a dull thump onto the floor. The sound made Neytiri’s head snap up from where she was weaving. Jake looked up from carving a small piece of driftwood, and Kiri paused, hand midair with her gathering bowl.

He stood there, fists balled at his sides, trying to keep it in, but it spilled out anyway.

“I can’t keep watching this.”

Jake frowned. “What happened?”

Lo’ak didn’t answer right away. He stepped deeper into the room, rubbing his hand over his face like he couldn’t believe what he saw.

“I went to the reef after the storm. I was helping gather shell bundles the current dragged out…” His voice was unsteady. “And I saw them.”

“Who?” Kiri asked softly.

“Neteyam. Tsireya.”

Neytiri’s hands went still in her lap.

Lo’ak scoffed, a bitter sound. “He had her between his legs. They were sitting in the sand like they do it every fucking day, his arms around her, helping her sort through little fucking shells, whispering to her. She was laughing. Leaning back against him like they were… like they were together.”

Jake’s expression tightened.

Lo’ak’s voice cracked. “He never looked at her like that. Never. Before he—before the ship, before everything—he- she was his friend, his best friend.. She was mine. I brought her into our family, I brought her home, and not him…”

He shook his head like it physically hurt. “Now he won’t leave her side. He follows her when she walks. He sits next to her at every meal. He touches her shoulder when he talks. He’s always smiling at her. I can’t even get a minute alone with my own girlfriend. He just pops up out of fucking no where and takes her away casually.”

He looked between them, desperate. “Why is he doing this?”

Kiri’s brow furrowed. “Maybe he’s trying to reconnect—”

“No,” Lo’ak snapped. “This isn’t about reconnecting. He’s obsessed. He acts like he’s known her forever. Like he sees something else when he looks at her.”

Neytiri stood, slowly approaching him. “Lo’ak, your brother went through something we don’t understand. He almost died. Maybe he’s not—”

“He’s not right,” Lo’ak whispered, his voice breaking. “He’s not who he was. He looks at her like he loves her, he looks at her the way I look at her, but I swear to Eywa, he doesn’t even see her. It’s like he sees someone else in her face. Like he’s talking to a ghost.”

The silence that followed was heavier than the storm that had passed that morning.

Jake’s jaw was tight. Kiri looked away, worried and thoughtful. And Neytiri, heart aching, placed a hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder.

But Lo’ak just looked at the fire, eyes flickering.

“I don’t know who my brother is anymore,” he said. “And I don’t think he does either.”

Jake’s jaw was tight, his hands clasped together as he leaned forward. “We need to figure this out,” he said, voice low and tense. “This isn’t just about him acting strange—he’s not here. He’s somewhere else in his head.”

“He’s obsessed more like it, with My tsireya.” Lo’ak muttered, still fuming, pacing with his arms folded.

Kiri watched him, eyes sharp with worry. “He is. I think there was someone else… when he was gone. That’s why he’s not himself. He left part of himself behind—maybe with her.”

Neytiri, quiet until now, looked toward the entrance of the mauri. “Then we need to draw it out of him gently. He won’t talk if he feels cornered.”

Jake gave a slow nod. “So, here’s what we do—we keep him close. Watch. Ask things that sound innocent, things that might slip past his defenses. Especially things about where he was, how he survived.”

“We bring Tsireya around less,” Kiri added. “Maybe if he’s seeing someone else in her, maybe distance will help him see clearly.”

Lo’ak’s shoulders dropped slightly. “And if he doesn’t come around?”

Jake looked at his son, his voice firm but calm. “Then we help him remember who he is. Even if it means dragging it out of him piece by piece.”

Neytiri nodded. “Together.”

They all sat in the quiet a moment longer, the hum of the ocean beyond their walls steady waiting. Watching. Planning.

Because something was broken inside Neteyam… and they couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Neteyam is scary bro… no way this works. I think he’ll lash out if you take tsireya away from him, even if it’d slowly. He’s like her shadow. He’ll notice.” Lo’ak says after a beat of silence.

“Your right but Neteyam would never hurt us” Kiri went on looking between them. “But we’ve seen what he can do, we all know what he is capable off.”

“Like when that shoulder knocked spider over?” Lo’ak added. “Neteyam practically tore him apart. He didn’t even blink.”

Jake exhales through his nose, he was the reason Neteyam was so highly trained. “He’s trained to end threats, not negotiate with them.”

“We are assuming here from Lo’ak’s description that he’s seeing someone else. The. He is right. What if he snaps?”

Silence.

It was Lo’ak, surprisingly, who voice the next idea, “what if we do the opposite?” Everyone looked at him. “What if we use Tsireya? Not as bait but as a way in, maybe he’ll open up and talk to her.”

Kiri frowned, “he is not going to admit anything. Assuming he doesn’t know he’s doing it.”

“But maybe she can lead him there,” Jake said, catching on. “If we prep her, really explain what we think is going on, she could ease it out of him, ask the right questions.”

Neytiri’s frown depends, “you are assuming she’ll even believe us. My son is leveled headed in any situation. Everyone knows that. Why would she believe that Neteyam if all people is delusional and seeing someone else if her eyes?”

Sure enough the next morning they gentle pulled tsireya aside and say her down explaining what they thought might be going on with Neteyam. They explained they thought he was lost, fantasizing about someone else. And she blinked, wide-eyed and confused.

She shook her head genuinely puzzled. “But…he’s not in love with me. He never was. I am with you Lo’ak. And now he’s just… sweet. Clingy, yes, but…not delusional.

Jake stepped in, “we think that it’s not you he’s seeing tsireya. We don’t have another explanation for why he’d act like this out of nowhere.”

Lo’ak’s voice was tight, more hit than angry now. “You’re not who he thinks you are. But if you talk to him, if you help him open up about what happened when he wasn’t here. When he was healing that gunshot wound that should have killed him. He’ll go back to being your friend. My brother.”

She was quiet for a long time but ultimately decided to help. “What do I even ask him?”

The truth was, they were all worried this could go wrong. Neteyam was a weapon forged in war. But he was also a son, and a brother, a friend. And he was loved, they cared.

It was nearing twilight when Tsireya entered the Sully family mauri, soft-voiced and tentative. The air inside was still, heavy with the scent of the ocean and herbal smoke. Jake sat cross-legged near the fire pit, feigning focus on carving. Neytiri was sorting through drying herbs. Kiri shelled seeds in the corner. Lo’ak had returned from his task not long before and stood off to the side, jaw tight, watching.

Neteyam was sitting on his sleeping mat, hair tied back loosely, a bracelet half-finished in his lap. His expression shifted the moment he saw Tsireya — softened, lit with affection. “Hey,” he murmured. “Come sit with me.”

She did, settling cross-legged beside him, close as always. She gave a polite nod to the rest of his family, then turned to him. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Neteyam nodded, relaxed. “Anything.”

“Do you remember the first time you woke up? After you got hurt?” she asked, gently.

His gaze shifted to look at her for a second, “of course I do. I remember everything.you were there.”

Tsireya hesitated, “what was I doing?”

Neteyam chuckled, “she- you stitched me up and stopped the bleeding then put me on your couch to sleep and I woke up after a while and you were asleep in the couch right in front of me. You remember…. I had threatened to stab you I thought I was captured by the RDA. But I wasn’t it was just you and me in the cabin.”

They all heard it, ‘She’ they were right.

Jake subtly looked up. Kiri had stopped shelling seeds, Neytiri’s hands slowed and Lo’ak rubbed his hands over his face.

“And….the song?” Tsireya continued carefully, “what song did I sing?”

“You know it?” He said quickly. “You turned on the radio in the windowsill, you sang the words so much I memorized it, you said it was one of your favorite songs, it was…. we danced in the kitchen.”

He looked at her with pure devotion.

His family was reeling. They didn’t know what to think.

“And the brackets,” she went on, “when did you learn to make those?”

He smiled. “You taught me, my second week. We sat outside in the grass, and you taught me. Made me promise one day I’d teach someone else the patterns, so they’ll stay alive?”

His face dropped a little.

Kiri’s brow pulled together.

Lo’ak had stood up, taking a step then back.

Tsireya whispered, “and…where are we right now?”

Neteyam blinked.

“You and me” she clarified. “Where are we?”

He looked around at the mauri, his family seated around, and for a second his face twisted in confusion, “we are in my family home. It is not the forest though.”

He knew where he was, they noted.

Tsireya swallowed. “Neteyam… do you see me?”

He stared at her confused, “of course I see you.”

“No.” She pressed, voice breaking a little. “Do you see…me? Not the woman you spent time within the cabin, not who saved your life. Do you see me Neteyam?”

He frowned, visibly disturbed, “why are you talking like this? Why are you pretending?” His voice was strained now, shaken. “Why are you pretending it wasn’t you who saved me? You are. You kept me alive. You were there.”

The room held its breath.

Tsireya didn’t respond.

Neteyam reached for her hand, gripping it tightly. “why are you doing this to me? Don’t you remember? The cabin on the cliff, nice open yard space, private garden where you grow fruits and vegetables to cook and eat. The..porch swing? How could you forget?”

Tsireya’s breath hitched, her voice nearly there. “I wasn’t there.”

He froze.

Slowly her grip on his hands tightened. “That wasn’t me, Neteyam.”

The world around him tilted. His moth hoarded, but no sound came out yet.

“Why are you saying this? All of this happened, and so much more.” He stressed, “and then I brought you here. Home! To my family, I- you….you had dinner and my parents, my brother, my sisters they like you!”

His eyes dart around to his family.

Kiri stood up, Jake stepped forward, face tense calm, but wary, “son—”

“No! Dad! Don’t you like her? Isn’t she amazing? She saved my life she… for once I didn’t have to…she took care of me!” Neteyam’s voice was getting louder.

He let go of her hands and stood up fast, the sleeping mat shifted under his feet. “No. No, no, no, don’t do think. Why are you all doing this?”

“My son, you are not well,” Neytiri said softly.

“I am fine,” he snapped, “she just… she’s confused, why are you confusing her?”

Tsireya stood up her hands on his shoulder as he tried to calm him. “Neteyam please—”

His eyes dart from here to everyone else. “Why are you all acting like she isn’t here? She is here! She was there! She saved me!”

Lo’ak stepped forward, “you're not talking to her. You think you are but yours not.” He tried to be as gentle as possible.

Neteyam turned to him trembling, breathing shallow.

“I don’t know who yours seeing, I don’t know who you think is here brother. But it’s not Tsireya.”

“Tsireya? I don’t want Tsireya she’s your girlfriend bro, what are you saying?”

“Neteyam.” Lo’ak walked up to him holding his shoulders as he spoke again, “look at her.” Neteyam eyes darted unsure. What were they saying to him. “Look at her.” He repeated and he did. He looked at her. He saw you he still saw you and he was about to protest but then he saw it. A flicker of blue where your golden eyes were and it changed. Straight hair to curly, lighter skin, thick arms, legs, tail. He said tsireya.

He stumbled back abruptly, almost tripping over his own feet. His hand push Lo’ak away and he rubbed them over his face. He shut his eyes and open them, and you were gone.

“No, no… this isn’t…” he whispered. The memory of you flickering like flame behind his eyes, “where did you go?” He asked the air. “Where did… what the fuck!”

“I’m not crazy I swear I’m not crazy, you’re- she’s real! Mom! She’s real!” He was practically shouting now.

“She saved me life when you all left to get Kiri and tuk off that ship! You thought I died you left! She came up from the ocean and saw me! Saw life in me and she saved me! Stopped the bleeding and stitched it up so I could wake up! She…she cooked and helped me regain strength; she was peaceful. So peaceful and I- she… I brought her home..” he whispered the last part.

Neytiri with tears in her eyes walked up to her son, “I believe you, calm down—”

“Calm down? I- where is she!?”

Jake quick on his feet, held onto his son to ground him. “Hey, hey, hey. Look at me boy.”

Neteyam listened, still panting.

“What’s her name?”

“…y/n”

He knows now, you were not here. You were never here. Did he really leave you in the cabin. Eywa, he wishes he didn’t. He couldn’t leave everything behind. He wanted you to come. Why didn’t he ask you to come?

“How much time passed since I came back here?”

“Almost two months son” Neytiri answered.

Two months. Two whole months you’ve been alone while he’d been delusional and in love with you to the point where he imagined you in another person. Why did he leave you there? The question echoed. What was his excuse. You didn’t mean nothing. You meant everything.

Neteyam bolted outside, his family confused followed him watching him call his ikran and bond quickly shooting into the sky. His mother didn’t let him get far before she called her own and they all followed. Tsireya riding with Lo’ak followed Neteyam into the sky.

“Neteyam!” Jake’s voice cracked through the air.

“Bro, STOP!” Lo’ak yelled, desperately chasing the blur of blue and war paint ahead.

But Neteyam didn’t hear them.

Or rather, he did, but it didn’t matter.

He couldn’t stop. Not now. He knew where he was going. The wind stung his face; his eyes burned with salt and memory. He gripped Seze tighter, as if she could sense the ache in his soul. And maybe she could. She flew harder, faster.

His shoulders trembled. His mind replayed the look on your face when you first reached for him that night in the cabin. How you pressed a cloth to his wound. The warmth of your hands. The quiet strength in your voice.

“You’re safe.”

He let out a low, broken sound, part gasp, part cry.

He had to find you. He needed you.

Behind him, the Sullys followed in silence. Watching him, helpless and afraid. Jake’s jaw clenched. Neytiri’s heart raced with mother’s dread. Lo’ak… Lo’ak couldn’t even feel angry anymore.

“He’s not stopping,” Kiri murmured.

“No,” Jake said grimly, eyes locked on his son. “He’s not.”

The wind howled around them as they cut through the sky, chasing after Neteyam, who chased the only piece of peace he had left. You.

The cliff winds howled around him as Seze descended sharply, banking with precision toward the narrow ledge beside the cabin tucked into the trees. The ocean stretched wide and wild below, waves crashing violently against the cliff, but Neteyam didn’t hear them. All he could hear was the hammering of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears.

The cabin stood where it always had, carved partially into the stone, half wood and half earth, smoke curling faintly from the chimney. That meant someone was here.

That meant you were here.

His eyes dart around sharply looking for you and he saw you. Sitting in the porch swing cleaning some fruits from a basket you had on the table next to you.

Neteyam bolted. Ran as fast as he could to get to you. When you didn’t see him and look up your thought you were dreaming. ‘He came back?’

You stood up slowly and he didn’t slow down, he didn’t stop. He just crashed into you, arms wrapping around you like you were the most importantly thing in the world.

He was much stronger than when he had left. You almost lost track of time, it had been…nearly two months since the last time you saw him. He was leaner, more muscular, his hair was braided again. “Neteyam…” you whisper into his chest.

Your hands had slowly wrapped around his back molding into him like you did a million times before.

“I thought I…I thought I imagined you. Eywa you’re real.”

He pulled back and held you face in his hands, stroking your cheek idly, “of course I am real.” Your hand went up to rest on his. He was about to pull you in for a kiss but was stopped.

“Neteyam.” He knew that voice, his mother’s sharp tone cut through the air.

Neteyam didn’t let you go; he pulled you back to his body shielding you from them. His mother stalked towards them, her knife held in her hand, he knew if she got the opportunity she’d strike.

His father, brother and sister were behind her moments after. The tension was thick even though they were several paces behind his mother. Lo’ak watched in dread, holding tsireya’s hand to keep her close to him. Kiri furrowed her eyebrows. And Jake stood, jaw clenched.

Your eyes darted from his mother to his father, then his siblings. You had no idea who they were. He didn’t talk about them. You didn’t ask but you just knew in your gut. They were his family.

His mother’s voice was low and furious, “she’s one of them Neteyam.”

“She is not,” he snapped, still holding you close, “she saved me.”

“We thought you were dead. You vanished. For weeks!”

“She found me bleeding on that rock.” He yelled, voice cracking. “I wouldn’t died if not for her. She stayed, she cared for me. She—”

He looked down at you again his hands bringing you impossibly closer. His breathing hitched, “she never left.”

Neytiri turned to you. Her eyes were sharp, untrusting, like a blade drown just before it strikes. “Why?” She asked, voice low and hard, “why help him? Why hide him? Why not bring him back to us?” Her voice got louder, more strained.

You opened your mouth be no words came, before it could, Neteyam a stepped in again, more desperate now. “She didn’t know who I was. I threatened to kill her the first night—had a knife pointed at her. And still…she took care of me. She didn’t even know my name! She just…helped.

His mother’s lips pressed into a tight line. Her stare hadn’t heft you. Every instinct in her screamed danger, this was no ordinary woman. You were from the RDA, an avatar. And her son had chased hallways across the sky to fall into your arms like a wounded child seeking home.

Lo’ak broke the silence with a step forward, “so what now?” His voice was low and heavy. “We just…leave him here?”

Jake placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

Kiri whispered, “he is not the same. You saw him these past weeks… he wasn’t himself without her.”

Still his mother didn’t back down, “that does not make her safe.”

But Neteyam turned back towards her, tears barely held back, “she is. She is the only reason I am alive, the reason I’m standing here. Please, sa’nok.”

For the first time in her life, Neytiri hesitated.

She saw her son not as the warrior, but as the boy, fractured and trembling. She looked again at you, not as a soldier, but as someone holding him like he mattered.

She didn’t lower her guard. Not yet. But she took one step back.

Jake’s voice finally broke in, loud and firm. “Alright enough! You will tell us everything! And I mean everything boy. Right now.”

Neteyam sat bringing your body down with his. Held you close legs wrapped around you as if to crest a barrier between you and everyone else. Jake walked to Neytiri and took her knife sitting her down gently and sat next to her, Kiri and Lo’ak on the other side of him and tsireya slightly behind Lo’ak.

“What happened brother?” Kiri asked him softly.

He looked at her before his eyes dart to his parents then brother, “the day I got shot on the rock, I didn’t die. I’m sure you all thought so but I didn’t. She was in the ship and swan up, only noticed me on the rock after.”

“I noticed he was alive and I… couldn’t just let him die” you finally spoke. You sat up as straight as you could since it was clear Neteyam wasn’t about to let you go.

“I brought him here because I didn’t have anything on me out there to help him. He was unconscious and he felt until almost the next day, when he woke up naturally, he had questions. Threatened to stab me, when he found out I was RDA he tried to leave but his injury was severe, he couldn’t even walk.” You explain softly.

The next few days I didn’t trust her, I didn’t even want her help, but she stayed with me all night in the couch since I couldn’t go anyways her else. Helped me clean up the dry blood if my skin in places I couldn’t reach. She cooked and fed me, helped me regain my strength.” Neteyam said softly.

“And I thought about you all… everyday. But I was in no condition to travel, and I couldn’t make her take me home. For her to fly in there and get an arrow to the chest? She’s the reason I’m alive, she… I...” he couldn’t find the words.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jake asked.

“I didn’t know how’d you would all react to this. It’s not that I wanted to keep it from you. It’s more I didn’t want you to think that she is a bad person because of where she comes from. Dad she…didn’t even know my name.. if she had some alternative agenda I would have been in a jail cell of dead. Not here.” He gestured to the cabin.

“We bonded over music and stars, we didn’t talk about the past or the RDA we were just in the moment, I didn’t have to worry, I wasn’t on guard for the first time in years, I relaxed.” He continued.

Jake exhaled through his nose and rubbed the bridge of it, his elbow propped on his knee. “So l-let me get this straight,” he said slowly, glancing between the two of you. “You were out here. With her. For over a month. And you didn’t think to send word back to us?”

“What was I supposed to do dad? Send a carrier pigeon? A text? Say ‘hey dad I’m alive, this pretty girl from the RDA saved me and now I’m living in a cabin in a cliff I’ll be back in a couple weeks.’”

Lo’ak snorted and Kiri covered her mouth to stop from laughing. Neytiri let out a hiss and Jake raises a hand, “don’t sass me boy. You can see where I might have issues understanding this situation.”

The words hung in the air like a storm cloud.

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