#sully: people

[stealingpotatoes]

OMGGGG YOU LIKE AVATAR I'LL EAT GLASS I'M SO HAPPYYYYYYYYYYY

will be get ever some art of it from youuuu?

PUT THE GLASS DOWN eat this instead

[halpwhatdoiputhere]

Alri Avatar fans can we pls talk more about how they took signature parts of Jake and Neytiri for the kids? Like small details when side by side we can see

These aren’t my images btw

Lo’ak and Jake have the same pondering (?) thinking face especially under high emotional pressure

Jake and Tuk have the same omg this is amazing omg surprised happy look (so precious)

Neytiri an Neteyam have the same spaced out thinking face

And the same downward lip when disappointed

Flying posture



The oh damn look too

And finally messing up when trying to impress yo girl but you actually just made her like you more

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI 

Labor of Love - Part III

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: zero smut, explicit childbirth, water birth, difficult labour, contractions, amniotic fluid, breastfeeding, family fluff, expletives, this is a bit angsty but there’s a happy ending

Word Count: 7.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: the following depicts a very detailed, difficult, and medically inaccurate birth. This is graphic. I am quite literally going to simulate a birthing experience in your pov and I strongly suggest opting out now if anything pregnancy or birth related could make you uncomfortable. Finally, this is most definitely not medical advice, nor should this be used as a reference for what to expect during birth. This is a fanfiction about blue aliens, after all. With that being said, let’s welcome Ralak into fatherhood!! Enjoy 😊

Synopsis: Things were moving too fast until they weren't moving fast enough. The time has come and you're starting to doubt your capabilities. But thankfully your mate is here to guide you through this.

<- Previous

“Okay, Toto. Just do it. Go in there.” Zu’té sounds breathless as he speaks to himself, turning around to face the door. He hears your whimper and his jaw tightens. “Shit. Okay. Right.” Just as he raises his hand to pull back the curtain, he hears a winded voice.  “Brother.”

Zu’té spins around to face the voice of an angel—Ralak.

“Oh, thank Eywa. Thank you great mother. Thank you.” Zu’té chants in relief despites being one of the least spiritual persons someone can meet. He knew deep down that Eywa answered his call. 

Zu’té makes eye contact with the dishevelled and worn out giant. His attention is immediately drawn to the lengthy gash on his shoulder that seems to have been stitched up in a haste. 

“Ay’ana.” Ralak growls when he sees him staring.

The colour drains from Zu’té ‘s face, but before he can respond, Ralak’s ears perk up when they hear what seems to be a low whimpering. It sounds as if you're straining and struggling to breathe. His eyes dart behind Zu’té and then quickly snap back to his brother, filled with panic. 

Zu’té just barely shakes his head, urging himself to focus on the most important thing right now. 

“Your mate is in labour, tak.”

Ralak’s eyes widen at the confirmation. He knew it. He felt it back inland. 

Without another passing second, Ralak pushes past Zu’té and enters his marui. You hear the faint flap of the door and try to shift yourself in order to keep some level of decency.  

“I said to leave.” You’re breathless, gripping relentlessly onto the wooden stilt.

Ralak’s frozen in place, taking in the sight of you labouring by yourself. One that no matter how painful, is a sight he has always longed to see. A sense of pride fills his chest, his mate is showing such great strength that it’s admirable. Bringing life to his child is something he will eternally be grateful for. 

But then he sees your fingernails. How they've gone dull from all your gripping and scraping, and his sense of pride quickly mixes with shame. Shame that he has left you alone in this. 

Your laboured breathing is audible, practically wheezing as you struggle to breathe through the last lap of this contraction. You keep holding your breath and it’s more than evident from the red tinge in your face. Breathing is no longer the thing that you’re most focused on anymore, it’s the pressure between your legs.

He doesn't want to startle you but he can’t just watch you suffer any longer. He approaches you cautiously, examining you in attempts to discern how far into your labour you are. 

You're glazed in a layer of sweat, glimmering in the faint light of the first sliver of sun. Your shoulders rise and fall rapidly as you pant faster than a viperwolf pup, and your belly is low and firm as it tightens from the contraction. 

Ears laid flat to your skull and brows tightened, you curl over and clutch your stomach. He releases his clenched jaw and lessens the distance between the two of you. He gently places his hands on your lower back, pressing into you with the ball of his palm. 

The warmth alone provides a bit of relief for you, allowing you to momentarily catch your breath.

“Zu’té.” You hiss under your breath, surprised he’s even come in, much less laid a hand on you.

You let go of the marui stilt to swat away his hand with a loud smack. The reminder of you labouring in the presence of another man that isn’t him makes him wince. 

“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak husks quietly, using his thumbs to rub circles into your back. Your ears lift from your skull and perk up when you realise it’s your mate, back home from the excursion.

Tears overflow and spill down your cheeks. Tears of pain. Tears of exhaustion. Tears of relief. 

“Ralak.” You let out a nasally sob, unable to look at him just yet due to the contraction still rippling through you. You speak between your moans, voice cracking.

“You’re back. You’re here. It’s happening, lak. He’s coming. And I—I thought you’d miss it. I thought you weren’t coming back. I thought… I thought—”

“Alright, alright. I am right here with you, tanhì. Mawey, mawey [calm, calm].” He hums steadily, already reaching behind him for his kuru. “How long have you been in labour?”

“D-Don’t know.” Your breath catches in your throat and your knees begin to tremble. “Too l-long.” 

Ralak’s heart throbs in his chest at the thought of you enduring this on your own for that long. The contraction is finally subsiding, and you're eager to find relief in your mate. You exhale shakily and grip his wrist as you try to straighten your spine. 

“Easy.” Ralak is quick to help you to your feet, holding you by your hip and arm. “Can you stand?”

You nod your head as you slump back into him regardless. “It’s happening, ‘lak.” You wheeze, resting your head on his chest. Despite the slight sting, Ralak smiles, joyful to know his son will soon be born. 

“It is, my tanhì.” Ralak hums, swaying side to side with you against his body as he brings his glowing tendrils towards the end of your braid. He’s spent but he knows the exhaustion he feels is nothing in comparison to yours. “I am so sorry I have left you alone in this.” 

“‘ts not your fault, my love.” You murmur, lulling your head against his chest. “...not your fault.”

Though your contraction has passed, the pressure in your pelvis has a steady, constant groan vibrating in your throat. It’s a feeling that won’t let up, and the further you progress the more intense it gets. It feels like your body’s at its limit, unable to accommodate your babe any longer. 

“Mmmn—tsaheylu, please.” Your plea is drawn out and low, unaware that he’s already one step ahead of you. 

When he makes the bond, the pressure is instantly lightened but is quickly replaced with a sharp pain in your shoulder and back. He sucks in a sharp breath and grimaces from the sudden pain and pressure that flows into him.

You gasp and clutch your left shoulder, whipping your head around to look behind you. Immediately, you catch sight of his wound. 

Fresh blood spurts out between the ragged stitches and globbed over herbal concoction, dribbling down his chest and back in thin streams. 

“Shit.” You curse, ripping your queue away from him, abruptly severing the bond—causing the pressure to come back tenfold. “Fuck—you’re injured.” 

“I am fine.” Ralak insists, reaching for your kuru again.

“Tsaheylu will infect it.” You insist, keeping your kuru away from him. 

“Ke tare [it doesn’t matter].” He says sharply, catching his tone and softening it. “Allow me, please.” 

Ralak reaches for your kuru again, eager to make it up to you—to take the pain for whatever time you have left. But you shake your head firmly. 

The fact that making tsaheylu caused it to rupture and bleed, a gash that size will surely worsen with the influence of your labour. Ralak respects your wish, although he’s in disagreement with it. He’d never make the bond without your consent and he feels as if he’s already missed too much of your labour to continue the argument. 

“…what happened?” You ask shakily, terrified to know the answer. “Wh-What did they do to you?” You feel yourself begin to tear up.

Seeing him so hurt always made your heart heavy. 

Your question catches him off guard, bringing him back to the moment he saw his own karyu. He swallows, having trouble keeping his calm and figuring out what to say. He has no intention of keeping it from you, but truthfully it isn’t the right time to speak of such matters. Not when you’re nearing the peak of the birth of your firstborn.

“Not now. You are labouring.” Ralak says sternly yet gently, reshifting his focus and concern back to you. 

And if it weren’t for the unbearable heavy sensation in between your legs you would’ve protested. You nod lazily as your breath hitches repeatedly, your hand finding its way to the lowest part of your abdomen to press into it. Your lengthy groans start up again, you can feel your entire body begin to tense up.

“Another? So soon?” Ralak’s voice falters, concern now evident in his tone. He steadies himself behind you, pressing his hands into your lower back once more. 

“Pressure. ‘ts too much.” You pant, leaning forward and using your free hand on the marui stilt for support. 

“Pressure?” Ralak tries his best to understand what you mean. Thinking that he’s pressing too hard into your back, he eases up and apologises. You shake your head and quickly replace your hand onto the lowest part of your abdomen with his. 

“Pressure!” You yelp the word like a plea for help, hoping he’ll get it without you needing to explain. Talking is becoming more difficult with each passing contraction. When he does finally understand, his eyes widen and brow bones jump. 

“Ah—he is moving down, tanhì.” Ralak tries to speak calmly, sliding his other hand over your stomach. His fingers smooth over your skin, taking in its heat and supple texture. He then feels it tighten even more, contracting right under the pads of his digits.

“Tewti [whoa].” 

It’s the first he’s ever felt a contraction, despite being a mandated witness to numerous first breath rituals in the clan. He begins counting under his breath, trying to gauge your progression by determining how long they’re lasting. But before he can get into the double digits your low grumble turns into a high pitched cry. 

Ralaks ears immediately go flat, hearing a cry like that rip from your throat makes his heart tighten in his chest. He shuffles closer to you upon realising that you're curling over from the pain. Moving quickly, he supports your body weight with one hand to your belly and another over your chest. 

“Ralak!” You cry out, “Please! Do something!”

With that, Ralak’s hands slip back down to your lower abdomen, cupping your belly and gently pull upward. This always helped if the baby was sitting too low, relieving some of the heaviness and pressure on your bladder.

Instantaneously, the pressure relieves. Your cry dissipates into a loud sigh, your downturned lips flipping up into a small smile of relief. 

“Thank you—” Pop. “—ugh” Gush. 

You’re silent, but your face screws into a grimace as the pain rushes back in with a vengeance. You look down in a painful daze, feeling the trickle of liquid down your thighs and legs. Through blurred vision, you watch as a pool forms at your feet, as well as Ralaks. 

“Shit.” Ralak mutters under his breath, recognizing what’s just happened. 

His head whips around to the sound of the flap of the marui door. He looks behind him, met with the panicked, bulging eyes of Zu’té, who’s staring intently at the scene unfolding before him. He's just worked up enough courage to enter the room.

Zu’té finally makes eye contact with Ralak, and Ralak nudges his chin in the direction of the village, mouthing—‘Get a healer’. Zu’té nods and takes off at full tilt. 

“…fuck‘m sorry. My waters...” You mumble, fingers digging into his arms in attempts to keep you standing, to no avail. 

Your knees buckle beneath you, and you lose all ability to keep yourself on your feet. Ralak supports you, moving down with you rather than trying to keep you standing. He slowly and gently lowers you to the floor, away from the growing puddle. 

“What for? Your water breaking? No need to be.” Ralak chuckles breathily, trying to make it obvious that it’s no big deal—he’s unbothered by it.  

“Me-messed you up.” You grunt, breath straining as you lean all your weight back into him. 

“You did no such thing.” He reassures you through a quick breath, adjusting you into a more comfortable position.

You lay on top of him, shifting onto your side and off the sharp throb in your lower back. You clutch his bicep with one hand and keep the other snug under your bump. 

He’s more so in an awkward position than not, his back now against the base of the bed and his right leg propped up to keep you from rolling back. He has no issue staying put in this position if it means some sort of relief for you. 

But your groans only deepen, lengthening and ending with small grunts.

“You alright, mama?” He checks in on you through a whisper, knowing that things move quickly once the water breaks.

You nod your head, trying to be strong, but he can see right through it. And you know it. You sputter out a sob and shake your head, finally admitting the truth—finally facing reality.

“I know, I know, tìyawn. Almost there.”

Even without tsaheylu, he is able to tell how long you have left just based on your sounds and body language. With each little grunt he notices that your face shifts to a brighter shade of pink.

He takes note of your tail, and how it’s now tightly coiled, tucked to the base of your tailbone—out the way. Your shoulders are bowed and your stomach sits low, hard as a rock. 

“Oh!—Eywa, ple-ase.” You mumble a plea, eyes squeezing shut when you come to the height of your contraction. “Mmm’fuck—fuck.” 

“A little longer.” He places a firm, comforting kiss on the temple of your head. “It will soon be over.” 

You feel Ralak’s hand firmly patting your lower back, attempting to put the fire out. But now the pressure’s released, the pain is only more intense—spreading and morphing into a new feeling altogether. 

“Ralak—Ralak!” You panic, your head rolling side to side as you strive against this new sensation. 

“Right here with you.” He hums, pressing hard into your lower back with the ball of his palm. “What do you need?” 

You begin frantically tugging at your soaked loincloth, trying your hardest to get it off of you. Ralak quickly takes over, untethering the knot and slipping it off you.

“Need to—aahaa! I think he’s—haah—he’s—he’s coming!” You yell, unable to fight the new feeling. An urge you’ve never felt before. The urge to push. “Ralak—I’m scared!” 

“Listen to your body.” Your mate encourages you with a steady and calm voice. 

His gaze snaps down to witness your leg rising into the air and your hand hooking under the back of your knee. His hand cups over yours, helping you support the weight of your suspended leg. 

Ralak manoeuvres himself in a way that allows him to support you and see what’s happening. He gently tugs your leg back a little further, having a proper look. He can see just how swollen and tender the flesh between your legs is—ripe and ready. It’s time. 

“Muntxate [wife]. Bear down if you need to.” 

“I—I—urgh!” You cry out, finally giving into the urge to push, allowing your body to bear down in the way it’s been trying to. Holding your breath, you tuck your chin to your chest and sink your fingernails into Ralak’s bicep, pushing as best as you can in this position. 

“Good, good. Good push, tanhì.” His voice is hushed but steady as he watches in awe as your body flourishes. “Syeha si [breathe].”

As the urge subsides, you release your breath and gasp for air a few times. If he’s really coming, you don’t want it to be here. You had both discussed doing this in the comfort of your own lake. The lake in the cave, where your relationship with him had blossomed to begin with. 

“Not here.” You say out of breath, legs shaking terribly.

Ralak leans in closer to you, listening carefully to decipher your murmurs. You keep your eyes closed shut, unable to open them anyway. They feel as heavy as you do, weighed down with exhaustion and agony.

But as you feel your stomach tighten and the urge rush back in, you realise that time lessening. “Water—get me in the water, please!”

Ralak hesitates, scanning your body to see if moving you in this state is the right thing to do. He watches as you tense up in agony as you contract, and quickly the realisation dawns upon him, too. At this rate, the babe will be here at any moment.

And if your wishes are to give birth in the water, now is the time to fulfil them.

Ralak scoops you up into his firm clutch, rises to his feet, and rushes out the door. Taking his time down the steps, your grip around his neck tightens just as a groan rumbles in your chest. Your legs squirm in his grasp as they try to snap open. 

“Hurry! He’s coming!” You grunt, burying your face into the crease of his peck, biting down to fight the feeling. 

Ralak glances down at you a few times, brows gathered from the worry that plagues his heart. He’s holding you tight, so as not to let the wiggle of your body loosen his grip.

“Here.” He huffs out, nearing the entrance of the cave. 

Immediately immersing himself hip-deep into the water, he moves hastily, submerging you as he makes his way over to the ledge and helps you into position.

The ledge makes a smaller, more shallow pool in the lake, perfect for you to sit in with your back supported by the bank. 

Water is up to your chest, slushing and splashing against your neck as you desperately readjust yourself to get comfortable. Your head is perched on the bank of the lake, hands spread across to hold onto the rocky surface. Your toes grip the floor, rooting yourself to the ground to keep you stable, knees bobbing at the water's surface. 

“Fuck! Ralak!” You cry out, feeling your body act on its own accord.  

Ralak is already in front of you, one hand on your bump as the other slips between your thighs to feel your progression. All while he’s looking down at you with nothing but concern etched into his features, unsure of what more he can do for you without tsaheylu.

He witnesses your face turn red as you hold your breath again, using as much force as you can to push him out. 

Ralaks hand moves from your bump to cup your cheek, his fingernails raking away the streaks of sweaty hair plastered to your face and tucking them behind your ear. 

“Syeha si, tanhì [breathe].” He reminds you gently, exaggerating a breathing pattern you had rehearsed a few weeks ago, and you try to match his rhythm. 

But you’re stuttering and sobbing, unable to establish a pattern and push at the same time. Your back is on fire and it feels as if the baby isn’t moving any further down. 

The contraction finally ends with a loud wheeze and your head slumps back into the rocky bank. You shake your head as you struggle to open your heavy lidded eyes. 

Your vision is blurry and spotty. You glance down in a haze and lock eyes for a moment with the worried giant before you, and then you feel yet another contraction wash over you. They are on top of one another—back to back—with little to no break between them. 

“Fuck. Please. Please. Plea—” You weep weakly, eyes slamming shut as your chin makes contact with your chest, cutting off your pleas with a lengthy, guttural grunt. You push with what you have left, giving yourself a throbbing headache as a result. 

“Pushing so, so well.” Ralak praises you with a hushed voice, feeling something press against his fingers. 

As you strain, you feel the delirium set in. The panic of not knowing if you’re capable of doing this. Every inch of you more than ached, yet some parts of you have even gone numb from how long this has been going on.

You can barely get a proper breath in much less breathe the way you should when you’re pushing. You feel like your body may give out at any moment. 

“Keep going, y/n.” He encourages you, seeing your exhaustion and feeling you stop. 

“Ralak…lak.” You let out a sob and try to relax your body, but end up collapsing back into the rocky surface again. “‘m tired, lak.” You mumble shakily between laboured pants, “...want him out.” 

“I hear you.” Ralak tries to reassure you, now supporting both your trembling legs as they threaten to give out. “He will soon be out, tanhì. But you have to keep going.”

“No—oh, no, no.” You cry, tensing up from another agonising contraction. You didn’t think they could get any more painful. “No more. No more, please.”

“Come now, big push for me.” Ralak instructs softly, repositioning himself to help deliver his son. 

“Ugh—!” You scream, giving all you have left into this push. Beads of sweat roll down your temples at a concerning speed, and your face shifts to an even more vibrant shade of red. “Please! Please get him out of me!” 

“He’s coming out, tìyawn. Keep pushing, almost there. Almost there.” Ralaks voice is low and laced with panic, despite his greatest efforts to keep calm and collected.

This cycle repeats for some time, instilling worry into both you and Ralak. You’re having a difficult time, and it’s taxing on your body to keep this going.

Truthfully he can tell that you’re really struggling, and he’s getting a little more worried as time passes. But then he feels the baby press against his fingers and hope fills him once more. 

“That’s it. Push just like that, y/n.” 

“Fuck—” And just as last time, you collapse back into the bank, depleted with nothing left to give. You begin to think that maybe everything you’ve been hearing was right. 

Maybe you can’t do this. 

“I…I can’t.” You sputter defeated, letting your legs go limp either side of you.

“Mawey [calm]. You can. Your body is made for this.” He reaffirms for not only you but also himself, he’s too afraid to lose you. No, he can’t lose you, too. He’s experienced too much loss. 

“’s not comin’.” You shake your head lethargically, feeling faint. “He’s stuck.”

Hearing that makes his heart sink. Ronal’s words echo in his mind, putting him in a frantic state. He quickly composes himself, probing the tender flesh to help stretch it out. He feels something slimy and silken, and his ears perk up.

He’s right there. So close. 

“He’s not. I feel him, he is right there.” Ralak tries to keep calm for you, attempting to reassure you as he quickly thinks about the next best move.

Zu’té isn’t back with the healer and there's not much else he can do. He looks down at you, taking in just how uncomfortable you look as he tries to imagine just how much pain you’re in. With a position like this, no wonder your back hurts. His eyes widen. 

No wonder your progression has stalled. 

“Move with me. Easy.” Ralak croons, carefully tucking his arm under your back to sit you up slowly. He throws your limp arms around his neck, and brings you to your knees and then your feet—supporting your weight as you get there. 

“Lak, Lak!” You grimace and whimper as you try to work with your mate—your body is already so sore and weak that any movement is torturous. 

“Need to get you off your back.” Ralak huffs, holding you in position until you’ve adjusted. You hold on to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you settle into a squat. “A few more pushes, mama.”  

“Haa—no, no.” You squeal in desperation, feeling his head descend even further down now that gravity has come into play.

Then your belly stiffens. 

You bite the flesh of your cheek until you taste blood and bury your face into the dip of his collarbone—refusing the urge to push. But the instinct overrides you completely, leaving you in a panicked and delirious state. 

“Take h-him out! Make the cut!”

“No, no cut. No cut.” Ralak utters a throaty whisper, pushing down into your lower back. “Bear down, muntxate [wife].” 

“Ple—ase.” Your broken plea comes out as a low grunt as you shake your head frantically, driving your dulled nails into your mate. “It hurts, it hurts!” 

“I know, ma’ y/n. But you must bear down, please.” His voice trembles, filled with worry, but his words are firm—non-negotiable. You continue to shake your head, fighting with what you have left, your laboured breathing deepening as you run out of strength to resist. 

Ralak’s worry quickly turns into pure panic. Panic that you’ve really given up. Panic that you really may not make it out of this. That…he’ll lose you. He knows what he must do, despite it being against your wishes.

He gives your kuru a quick stroke, his way of warning you. It sends a shiver through you, but the pain is so excruciating that you can’t resist this, too. 

Ralak quickly makes tsaheylu, bringing a brief moment of pure, instant relief, just enough to bring you out of your delirium. His wound reopens, burning and weeping. But not even that could prepare him for your pain. 

It feels like each vertebrae in his spine instantaneously shifts out of place. It is excruciating. And strange—that urge to push. He can feel it too. It’s like an itch deep under your skin. Irresistible and uncontrollable. 

“Push!” Ralak groans loudly, prompting you to bear down with whatever strength you can muster up.

You scream at the top of your lungs, achieving a frequency and volume so high it can be heard from the village. Ralak’s fingers quickly probe the tenderness between your legs to check your progress once more. Finally, he feels the baby’s head begin to emerge. 

“Perfect push, tanhì. Keep going, keep going.” Now he’s winded, flustered and speaking breathily. 

Your scream is cut off by your vulgar tongue, “Fuck! Fuck—it burns!” You cry out, feeling a bolt of white hot fire split you in two, making you jerk back. “It’s burning!” You sob, trying to wiggle away from the flame. 

“He’s crowning. His head, shit—” He huffs, realising that the babe is coming too quickly, not giving you enough time to adjust, “Stop pushing.” His fingers probe the taut skin in attempts to prevent you from possibly tearing, “Breathe him out. Just as we practised.”

Your fingers dig even deeper into him as your head snaps up to shoot him a deadly glare. Wasn’t he just demanding that you push? To ‘listen to your body’?

You take deep, intentional breaths, eyes flicking down to search the cloudy water as you try your hardest to resist. He can feel your frustration through tshayelu, he can hear your thoughts. 

“Syeha si, syeha si [Breathe, breathe]. Let yourself adjust. Let your body push for you.” Ralak tries to explain, using the bond to his advantage and setting a steady breathing pattern. 

‘I can’t do it.’ You think to him, unsure if you’re even doing it right.

“You can. You are. Just like that.” Ralak works with you, probing the tender skin once more as he feels the head emerge. “A little longer.”

But yet, you feel yourself giving in. 

“Can't. Help. It.” You whimper, your breath stuttering as it catches in your throat. Tears roll relentlessly down your cheeks. You need him out. 

Now. 

You drop to your knees and tuck your chin to your chest. “Haah!” Your breath finally releases, and a guttural, lengthy grunt follows after. 

Ralak feels you push — hard. He readies himself, steadying his stance as he traces his fingers around the circumference of his unborn’s head to help guide him out. 

He is, too, looking down into the murky water, trying his best to see what’s going on. All he can do is rely on his sense of touch and the feeling through the bond to help him. 

“Ngh—ugh!” You feel a pop between your legs and the pressure minutely releases. 

Just then Ralak feels the rest of your baby’s head emerge. He can feel the curls of his silken hair, and how they’re laid flat to his skull. Ralak nearly breaks down right there, but fights the array of emotions bombarding him all at once to recenter his focus back on you. 

“His head is out.” He croaks, supporting the babe's head with the palm of his hand. “Hair like yours.” 

Ralak gently unlatches your grip on his shoulder and guides your hand under the water and towards his. Aside from wanting you to feel what he’s feeling, he’s hoping that this will give you the strength to keep going.

You feel the sliminess first, and then the soft, velvety texture of your son's head. You weep, slumping your head into Ralak's chest as you focus on gathering as much energy during the small break from the contractions. 

It’s incredible to know that your body created this life. 

“Oh god…it’s him.” You barely whisper.

“You are so strong, you know that? Mighty.” Ralak hums, cupping the back of your head with his hand. You lift your head to look at him and he rests his forehead against yours, searching your eyes with his. “One more push for me, okay?” 

You nod your head, bottom lip curled over to touch your chin. His hand slips from your neck to your cheek, his thumb wiping away one tear of a thousand. The tightening of your stomach has you tensing up, gripping onto him for support. You groan and moan until the contraction reaches its peak, where you begin to grunt and push against the budding pressure.  

He steadies himself once more, quickly slipping his hand off your cheek back into the water. He holds your son's head with one hand, and hooks the fingers of his other hand under his son's left shoulder. It pops out with the help of his gentle tug, and you bear down even harder. 

“A little more.” He encourages you, waiting patiently to feel his son's right shoulder emerge. He feels the bridge of his shoulder and Ralak jumps into action, carefully guiding his son's shoulder out. “Perfect, there it is.” Ralak mumbles quickly, hyperfocused on ensuring a safe delivery. 

You whimper when the burning sensation comes back, shoving your forehead into his chest. It’s hard to breathe. Every fibre in your being has you wanting to hold your breath for more leverage to get him out. Your noises fade to little choked muffles, quick and uneven. 

“Breathe.” Ralak chokes out, feeling your burning lungs through tsaheylu. He immediately establishes a somewhat steady breathing pattern for you to sync into.

“Pwah!” You let out a shaky, harsh breath of air, panting as you try to sync with him. “Urgh—ah!” you groan as you push, surprised by how long this torturous contraction is lasting. 

“Please get him out of me, please, please.” You whisper into his chest.

“Shoulders are out, tanhì” Ralak huffs next to your ear, tenderly rubbing his cheek against your temple. 

“Catch him, Lak.” You wheeze, your legs shaking uncontrollably from carrying your weight for such a long time. He wants so badly to do the rest for you, now really sensing your weariness through the bond. But he couldn’t, all he could do was support you through every second of this. 

“I have him, muntxate [wife].” He whispers, lips pressed to your ear. “Last push.”

A hoarse, empty cry evades your trembling lips as you bear down a final time. Suddenly the pressure releases entirely, and you feel your son slip out of you and into Ralaks hands. You let out a loud moan of relief, immediately pulling away from Ralak’s chest to look down into the water. 

“He’s out. He’s here, tanhì. You did it, mama. You did it.” Ralaks cracked voice is full of relief. “He—he is so small.”

You fall back onto your behind, breaking tsaheylu with your mate. Your eyes search for your newborn but you can’t make anything out of the murkiness of the water.

You look up to witness tears fill Ralak’s eyes for the first time as he holds the baby underneath the water. Your back hits the rocky bank of the lake in solace knowing your son is in safe hands. 

Then Ralak grits his teeth and lets go.

“Lak. Ralak.” Your panicked, hoarse voice calls for him, but you’re too weak to get up. “Ho-Hold him, Ralak.” 

Ralak looks like he’s fighting his own instinct to scoop up his young and cradle him in his chest. And that’s because he is. It’s taking everything in him not to do just that, but he knows that this is the way. The right way. 

“Mawey [calm]. First breath.” Ralak gently reminds you of the Metkayina ritual. He knows he must do this, especially in the absence of the Tsahik. “Let him swim.” 

You watch intently as the water slowly clears, revealing the wiggle of your newborn's body. “Help him.” You plead with trembling lungs, having a hard time watching this unfold. 

Ralak stays close to his newborn, ready to jump into action in an instant. But the babe rises to the top all on his own—swimming directly from the womb. You burst into tears, chest swelling with pride and every emotion under the moon.

Nonetheless, Ralak taps his bum softly, his other hand hovering underneath his son's feet in the case he needs to intervene. This is the first moment where your son has made you both proud.

Your son breaks the water with his face, chubby cheeks and puckered lips. You hear the sound of his little, first breath — pwah. His eyes open as he looks around, catching sight of his father scooping him into his arms. 

“You did it, my little one.” Ralak whispers with a crack in his voice, shifting his gaze over to you. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.” He repeats in absolute shock and awe, and this time you know he’s talking to you, too. 

Ralak holds his son close to his chest and away from his weeping wound, using his body heat to keep him warm as he makes his way over to you. The babe wails when he catches your scent, squirming in his fathers arms as if he were trying to get to you on his own terms. 

“She is right here, son.” He whispers, bouncing him a bit as he places him in your arms, helping you hold him for the first time. “Hold his head.”

Your arms feel like jelly and they won’t stop shaking, but you’re eager to hold your newborn. Ralak tucks himself closely at your side, keeping a precautionary hand under your arm. Immediately, he calms, gurgling and cooing as he listens to the familiar and comforting thump of your heart. It’s all he’s heard in the past ten months. 

Teary eyed, you look down through blurred vision, taking in the sight of your son. Every feature. Every stripe. Every freckle. His dark turquoise skin, golden eyes, pointed pink ears. A tail like his father, but five fingered, like his mother. He is the perfect mix, the perfect balance. 

“You’re perfect.” You whisper, admiring his little coos and floppy, soft ears that lay flat against him. His head turns towards your bosom, puckered lips brushing against your top in search of your nipple. “Hungry? Hm?” You hum shakily. 

Ralak is quick to help you, helping you position him just right. Your son shakes his head as he tries to latch for the first time, and both you and Ralak watch quietly with wobbly smiles plastered on your faces.

With two fingers, Ralak presses down onto your breast, angling your nipple in a way that makes it easier for you and him. You can’t help the grimace on your face when he does latch and suckle, but it quickly turns into a smile as you watch him feed for the first time. 

“Rak’äni.” Ralak proudly announces the name of his first born son.

You look up at him, witnessing a tear or two roll down his cheek. You’d never seen this giant cry like this before. The past two days have been too much.

“Rak’äni.” You repeat with a smile, Ralaks eyes finally meeting yours. He leans in and meets your lips with his, kissing you tenderly. He lingers there forehead to forehead as he pulls away, allowing himself to be vulnerable—to soak in his emotions. 

“I love you. I see you, y/n. For life. And beyond.” Ralak sheds a few more tears as he speaks the words.

“Nìt’iluke [neverendingly; forever].” You say wearily, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open. 

Snap. 

Ralak hears the sound of a branch breaking underneath the weight of a person's foot. Ralak looks behind him, hand under the water clutching the dagger on his hip, ready to protect his family. He sees the silhouette of a woman standing at the opening of the cave, basket on her hip as the last rays of sun shine through her. 

The first eclipse is starting.

Is that how long this has gone on for?

His heart skips a beat as his eyes narrow to see who it is…to see if it’s how he suspects it may be. Did she really follow us?

He then sees a taller figure emerge behind her, then another, and another…and another. And soon he counts seven heads in total and it dawns on him.

It’s your family—and his.

“We have visitors, little one.” Ralak coos quietly at his baby, his thumb just barely gliding over his cheek. “Are you alright, mama?” His voice sounds muffled and distant, as if he were at the other side of the lake. “The healer is here.” 

“Tired...Hurts.” You mumble, letting your eyes fall shut.

You feel Ralak’s gentle touch as he tucks himself behind you, supporting you with his body. His arm is under yours, keeping the babe safely above water as he feeds. You can fully relax your body now, sinking into your mate’s pillowy chest. 

“Rest.” Ralak whispers. “I have you.”

“You won’t believe, brother. The tshahik is also in labour. And I couldn’t find you…I heard y/n scream and—oh…” Zu’té lowers his voice to a whisper, catching sight of the freshly born babe in your arms. “Tak. He’s here.” His voice falters even more as he nears his blood.

His only family outside of Ralak. He’s awestruck, taking in all the different features of a new kind as he feeds. The babe's skin resembles the depth of his mother, but the tone of his father. Stripes like an omaticaya. Tail like a Metkayina. Five-fingered.

Truthfully, the length of his stare has Ralak feeling a little uneasy and a bit protective. 

“Toto.” Ralak hasn’t called him that in years, “Meet your nephew—Rak’äni.” 

“Rak’äni.” Zu’té repeats through a whisper, keeping his distance from the babe. “Fyole [beyond perfection].” 

Ralak relaxes, smiling proudly. “He is.” 

Zu’té fumbles with a small satchel on his hip, taking something out of it in a haste. He hands Ralak something small, something delicate. It's weaved to perfection, with colours of the sunset.

"For him." Zu’té says in a hushed voice, unfolding the garment to show his brother. It's a hat, an entirely new concept to the Metkayina. Ralak looks at him, a little confused, eyes bouncing between the strangely shaped item and his brother. "For the child's head."

Ralak smiles, his furrowed brows relaxing when he understands. Zu’té raises his brows and gently nudges it closer to the babe in your arms. Ralak nods, watching as Zu’té slips it on his head as gently as he can.

"Toto, that is very kind—"

"Don't flatter yourself." Zu’té cuts his brother short, pulling back to see the finished result of his hard work. It fits perfectly. "I had plenty of time."

Zu’té steps back, giving you two some space.

A sudden splash of the water makes Ralak jolt in his skin, but he calms down once he realises that it’s the healer situating herself next to you so she can tend to you. He isn’t all here right now, either.

“You did well, sa’nu.” You recognize her voice and strain to open your eyes, vaguely seeing her features.

She was at all your lessons with Ronal. The only one who didn’t look at you like some sort of alien. The only one who treated you with respect.

“All on your own. You need to be strong for a little while longer, alright? This may hurt.”

She begins gently massaging your abdomen under the water—a step that is empirical for healing. You clench your jaw and squeeze your eyes shut, shoving your head back into Ralak, who is visibly trying to withhold his look of displeasure.

“I get that look quite a bit. It’ll be over soon, sempu.”

You look down with foggy vision and see the hat on your baby's head. Immediately, you know who made it. You turn your head, looking directly at Zu’té and smile, mouthing 'thank you'. Zu’té returns the smile with a slight nod, remaining silent.

A high-pitched, excited voice has both you and Ralak turning your heads to see your little sister. 

“Woah! Mama, look!” Tuk exclaims, tugging Neytiri by the hand to get a closer look. 

“Shh, Tuk. He is asleep.” Neytiri hushes her youngest, nuzzling her into her side. The others stay quiet as they approach, crouching down at the bank of the lake to look at their new family member. 

“I am so proud of you, my daughter. He looks like you.” Neytiri whispers, raking her fingers through your knotted hair.

You exhale a shaky breath and smile weakly, leaning into your mothers comforting touch.

Jake looks down at the suckling babe in your arm, eyes burning as they gloss over with tears. “You did it, babygirl.” 

Hearing your fathers words after so many years of feeling like a failure, you can’t help the sob you sputter out. 

“D-Daddy.” You cry shakily, breath hitching. “It was s-so h-hard.” 

“I know, baby. I know. But you did it. ” He coos at his own baby, rubbing your shoulder as he looks over to Ralak. “You both did.” He smiles with his son-in-law, cupping the back of his head with his other hand. 

Neteyam and Lo’ak wait patiently at the back, not wanting to crowd you. Neteyam is particularly worried for you, he’s been beating himself up for not checking on you when he knew deep in his gut that he should have.

Lo’ak is… nervous, despite his big talk about being the best uncle. Your parents pull back, allowing some space for you, Ralak and the healer. 

“Guys.” You sniffle, craning your neck to look at them. “C-Come see your nephew.” 

They approach cautiously and kneel down next to you and Ralak. Neteyam smiles, golden eyes quivering as he takes in his features. 

“It’s uncle teytey.” Neteyam takes his nephew's tiny hand, his thumb grazing over his five fingers. Then Neteyam looks at you, his expression going from bright to glum. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you.”

You shake your head and smile, barely keeping your eyes open. “Don’t be.” 

“Y/n. I—” To your surprise, Lo’ak is speechless. “He is beautiful.” 

“Thank you, uncle Lo’ Lo’.” You smile with another sniffle, using that god-damned nickname he wouldn’t let up on.

Lo'ak returns the smile, hearing it fall from your quivering lips makes his heart full. You finally lean back against Ralak's chest, allowing your eyes to close, heavy and swollen from all your shed tears of joy and pain.

You feel the healer’s hands leave your stomach and make their way to your chest where she ensures the babe has latched properly. “Perfect latch. You are a natural, y/n.”

You smile wobbly at her words, feeling extra proud of yourself. 

“I will leave the medicines here, ensure she takes them on time.” She’s speaking to Ralak, who is also in a daze, gazing down at his son. “I will come and check on her tonight. Until then, she needs to rest. No heavy lifting.”

Ralak finally averts his attention to the healer, a smile on his lips as he nods. He’d never let you lift a finger, anyways.   

“Ralak, your wound is open.” Neytiri speaks with concern in her voice. 

The healer looks down to see his mangled laceration. “Eywa…Now, this will hurt.” Her eyes go wide and she immediately gets her things to sew him back up. Neteyam and Lo’ak look at the bleeding gash with wide eyes. Jake grimaces. 

“D-Does that hurt?” Tuk asks shyly, peeking out from behind Neytiri to see. 

Ralak shakes his head with a smile, too overjoyed with the safe delivery of his first born son to even notice anymore.

“No pain. Only happiness.” Ralak says softly, accent heavy on his tongue as he looks back down at his now stirring babe. 

[eywaseclipse]

Because fatherhood looks good on you Jake💙🥹

[fictionalmenplz]

Ki'qara at a funeral for a loved one..

[leoster333]

“Sully’s stick together.”

Had to recreate this family photo of the Sully Family from Avatar: The Way of Water.

[writing-goblinnilmerg]

Made with Love | Neteyam x reader

Word count: 1k

Summary: Gift-giving is a love language that you and Neteyam have in common

Masterlist

Gif cred: @moonlightsolo

It started with a flower. When Neteyam professed his undying love for you, Kiri had helped him prepare a bouquet to sway your favor. They were iridescent and glimmered enough to light up your whole hammock. You accepted them with a wide smile, happy to find out that he shared your affections. Even now, when you close your eyes, you can still see how the purples and blues swirled together and pulsed as if they had heartbeats. “As beautiful in the dark as you are in the light”, Neteyam had explained.

A few weeks later, you were stalking a meer deer together when a particular type of plant caught your eye. This plant had leaves that changed color as the sun rose and set, and were large enough to cover your whole palm. While Neteyam was waiting patiently for the deer to walk somewhere more uncovered, you carefully picked a few leaves from several of these plants and arranged them in a shape that Jake had once showed you. He called it a rose, and had similarly made a large mat in this shape using a different plant’s ginormous leaves for a date night with Neytiri. You adored how Neteyams eyes lit up when you tapped his shoulder to show him. He carefully cradled it in his hands then cautiously placed it atop his sling bag.

Now, you were carefully painting spherical wooden beads a deep shade of blue that matched your eyes. You stuck your tongue out in concentration and you filled in the last blank space and set it to dry next to a set of yellow beads of a similar size and shape. You thinly braided a piece of Kinglor silk, large enough to fit around your bicep and hopefully Neteyam’s. As soon as the beads finished drying, you threaded them into the silk in a pattern that you knew Neteyam would recognize. You carefully wrapped the band in those same leaves that you had manipulated into a rose all those months ago. You gently put it in a pouch strapped to your leg and whistled to call your ikran.

Neteyam, meanwhile, was wrapping a panopyra stem around the edge of a meticulously produced bow that he had made himself. He gave the string a twang to make sure that the tension was right so that you could use it to hunt alongside him. The bow had carved symbols in it that could be felt if you ran your thumb across it, as was your habit. Important dates had been inscribed, such as your birth, your first meeting with your ikran, and the day that you were reborn in the clan as a valuable hunter. He summoned his ikran and placed the bow in a bag attached to his saddle. He took off with a cry.

***

When you arrived to your date night atop the hallelujah mountains, a familiar rose-shaped mat decorated the ground and blinking shimmerflies floated lazily in the air, attracted by the honey-sweet meal that Neteyam had lovingly prepared for you. He greeted you warmly with a tight hug and a peck on the cheek.

“I have missed you, Yawne,” he took your hand in his and guided you to the mat, “I have something for you.” He smiled and reached behind him, where a package lay. Your curious eyes scoured it before taking it in your own hands and gently removing the wrapping. You gasped softly as a beautiful bow revealed itself. Your fingers delicately traced the curve and felt each intricate marking. The string was soft against your fingers and as you pulled it taut, you could feel the precision and strength of your weapon. Soft dips the size of your fingers were shaped into the grip; this bow was made to your exact specifications.

Neteyam confidently watched your eyes devour the bow and your hands feel every last detail, from the paint on the wood to the soft string. He was certain that you would adore it.

“I am glad you like it, paskalin.” He murmured. Your head snapped up and your lips slightly parted as you remembered your own gift. You scrambled to the pouch strapped to your leg and pulled out the bundle. His eyes lit up when he saw the parcel.

His nimble fingers pulled the shiny leaves away and you collected them in your hands to reuse on another project as he lifted the armband to see it better. You grinned when you realized that you had correctly matched the color of the yellow beads to his eyes; they were almost identical. You helped him fasten it around his bicep and he kissed the top of your head lovingly. The yellow beads contrasted nicely against his blue skin, and the navy blue beads that represented you shone in the moonlight.

“Thank you, yawne.”

“And thank you, Neteyam.”

You leaned into him and he passed you a serving of the delicious meal he had prepared. You laughed softly together as you talked about nothing and everything, gazing at the stars and pointing out constellations. Once every bite of the feast had been digested, you laid on your backs and beckoned your ikrans closer to protect against the freezing wind. Neteyams tail wrapped around your bare thigh, providing a comforting feeling of protection, and you could feel your handmade armband strain around his muscle when he put his arm around you. You felt a tension release from your chest and Neteyam gently murmured in your ear until you fell asleep in his arms.

***

Later, when the RDA and Quaritch returned in full force and there was little time for teenaged romance, a single arrow would appear in your bunk in the camp. This arrow was always decorated with one stunningly bright yellow bead, the color of an early morning sunrise on the Upper Plains, and another deep blue bead, the color of the liveliest rivers in Kinglor Forest. You would sling it next to your bow and jump onto your ikran, racing to the top of the hallelujah mountains where your Neteyam would be waiting for you.

Divider cred: @cafekitsune

[introspectivememories]

nah cause like you dont get it!!!! the sully kids and spider are a unit!!! they're puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly. the very definition of "the gang is what i trust"!!! they're together their whole lives and then spider gets taken and all of a sudden the puzzle is in disarray. kiri's so spacey cause she doesn't have spider to bring her back down to pandora. lo'ak's acting out cause he doesn't have his usual partner-in-crime/fellow outcast to make light mischief with. neteyam is like two seconds away from a heart attack/stroke the whole movie because the other kid he used to parent his siblings with for the past like decade is gone!!! and spider on the other hand? is completely alone. at least the other four have each other. all spider has is his alien racist, genocidal, imperialist dad dragging him on the world's worst war crime road trip. there's no kiri to get him out of his head. there's no lo'ak to to be outcasts with. there's no neteyam to have a quiet reassurance that they're in this together with. there's just him and his stupid, fucking mind. and then they blend his brain at bridgehead and it's over for him.

[abs-2020]

Dont really know if you do jake sully asks but.

Yandere! Dilf! jake sully x young Na'vi reader {not TOO young}

Where hake is already married to neytiri and has his four children but isn't satisfied with it, he didn't get to enjoy most of his time as a young Na'vi, then suddenly, a young Na'vi reader gets gis attention, following reader around like its a hobby.

Of course, the reader notices, how could they not with jake big form always around them? The reader took a liking to jake a few pandoran moons ago, but since they know Neytiri is HIS mate, reader can't stand a chance.

So when some time came jake slowly improved his relationship with the reader and they {you know 🤭}

And then one day the reader sees that he looked so happy with his family, so the reader distances themselves to him thinking he doesn't want reader anymore, and the reader thinking they were only and ONLY his plaything.

The reader follows the elders' commands and begins to find another mate.

Jake on the other hand is FURIOUS, let me tell you, volcano furious, he wants reader and reader only, he finds himself getting rid of possible mates as he is ofc, THE Toruk Macto. He gets amd at the reader and pour some angry smut there would you? And the rest us to you😫😫😫😫🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

Girlie. 🤚🏻🤚🏻 lemme just tell you. This. Sounded. Fun. Buuuut uh, I’m scared I did your thoughts absolutely no justice and that I didn’t live up to any of your expectations. But I did my best and played around sooo I hope you enjoy. Aaassss always comments and complaints are always appreciated. <3.

Warnings: SMUT/18+/choking kink/CNC/forced breeding/oral(M) receiving/jakes an ass/ this is just pure filth/cheating on Netyiri/stalking/age gap/it’s nassstayyy.

Authors note: uuh NOBODY thank me. Because this wasn’t my idea. It was this lovely girls idea. 😌 but I feel like i did your idea no Justice.

———————————————————————————-

Jake. Jake sully. Jake fucking sully. The Avatar that’s been haunting your dreams and daydreams. His hulking blue frame and roguishly attractive aroma haunted your every god damned thought. I mean how could he not? His tenacious smirk, beautiful hair, and that gorgeous gorgeous voice of his had you fawning over him like a little puppy. But it wasn’t always that way, of course not. In fact, you hadn’t really noticed Jake sully, ‘the Toruk Makto’ not until the big blue alien had started following you around like some gaurd dog a few months ago. Like it was a hobby, like it was his duty. That, that is when you noticed the blue avatar. That’s when you noticed his burning hot gaze on your behind, the gaze that sent chills down your spine. That was when you first noticed Jake sully.

Soon after his stalkerish behaviors Jake had finally started to make interactions with you. Such as asking ‘how your day was’ or telling you that ‘your hair looked nice’ even as far as sneaking up behind you and capturing you in unexpected embraces. But that was after he had started to grow on you. But oh boy, The way his arms wrapped around your form intoxicated you to the very core, made you feel a warmth you hadn’t ever felt before. A warmth that you never wanted to go away, never.

But no matter what the hulking blue alien did to make you feel at ease you always had one thought on your mind. ‘Jake was a mated man’ Jake had a mate. And that thought was the only thought that had seemed to keep you at bay. You stood absolutely no chance. But his warmth, oh his warmth. You just wished it would never leave.

And that warmth never did go away, and neither did Jake sully, because that warmth had ended up filling your core. And oh it was so hot, sticky, and passionate when it had happened to. The way his hulking form towered over yours, or the soft little whimpers of praise that left his throat with each thrust had you hooked. Hooked in a way you never thought was possible. And the thought of being so hooked to someone, Especially a mated man scared you. But what scared you even more was the fact that Jake sully never left your mind, not ever.

You should have been disgusted with yourself after it had happened. After you had brought about the cheating on Netyiri, Such a kind and beautiful Na’vi. But not only should you have felt disgusted with yourself for that, you should have felt disgusted because of the age gap. Jake was 28 for heavens sake. And you? You were 19. You were 19 well over ‘mating’ age in the words of the Tsahìk. And that had reminded you of your conversion not only a couple days ago.

A hand being placed on your shoulder had your attention being drawn to its user your brows and ears both quirked up. You’d expected it to be a friend, maybe some random boy. But no, all you were met with was the harsh, stone cold gaze of the Tsahìk.

“(Y/N), you’re well over mating age. I think it’s time you find yourself a mate. A strong man, a warrior...”blah..blah..blah…

that was all you heard coming from her mouth during the encounter. But- the Tsahìk was right, and you knew that. Deep down you knew. But even deeper down a part of you wanted to have Jake all for your self, wanted to be his mate, a part that didn’t want to let him go. mean how could you? How could you let go of a man like that? Was a thought that played in your mind on repeat.

Your mindless and aimless wandering during your thoughts had ended up bringing you to the middle of base, a couple tents away from Jake’s. And you hadn’t quite noticed until the sound of laughing children had your head and ears swiftly jerkin in the direction of the noises. Your heart sunk when your eyes met the scene before you. It was all 6 of them, Spider, Netayum, Lo’ak, Tuk, Netyiri, and Jake. Now it wouldn’t have been such a problem if they all hadn’t been laughing, smiling, teasing, and playing all together like the happiest family you’d ever seen. But they were, and it made your heart sink. You couldn’t take that from Jake, you couldn’t take Jake from that he loved his family too much for that. And you finally saw that.

“Oh Ewya, how could I have been such an idiot..”

You were so stupid, you were an idiot. How could you be such and idiot? Jake had a mate, Jake had children, ‘Jake had children’ you brought a shaky hand to your face dragging the flesh of your palm against the palm of your cheek. An exaggerated sight would leave your throat once reality finally set it. You brought about the cheating Netyiri, you helped Jake cheat on his mate. Betray his family. Betray himself. You did that. You did that.

A uneasy queasiness set into the pit your stomach as a sour and tart taste began to fill your mouth coating your taste buds. Quickly you’d rush a hand to your stomach and the other to your mouth. Your feet scurried against the smooth rocky floor as you tried to find a corner to let your body do its thing. But before you knew it a gag would fill the air as the remains of your lunch hit the floor with a noisy spat.

‘Fuck’

A light sheen of sweat would coat your forehead from the toll puking had taken on your body. You’d shake your head in annoyance at the world and situation your tail whipping furiously and ears falling back in regret.

“Maybe the Tsahìk was right..’

———————————————————————————-

Laughter would fill the air your tail whipping as you sat next to Etäay a joke he had made a couple seconds ago causing laughter to rip through the both of you, a blush painting your features at the proximity of the Na’vi.

Etäay was a funny man, in his late 20s and an excellent hunter. Definitely a Na’vi you wouldn’t have expected to have a sense of humor, But he did. He was a taller Na’vi, skinner, more lean than anything else. His hair in one long thick braid, with two smaller ones hanging in the front of his angular and chiseled face. He wasn’t Jake, not in the slightest, no where near close. No not at all. But you had finally decided to take the advice of the Tsahìk and try finding yourself a mate.

‘Jake wouldn’t mind’ you told yourself ‘Jake won’t care’ he had a family for Christ sake. And a mate. What had happened between the two of you was a mistake. A huge and forgettable one at that. So forget about it you did. Or at least try…

And try you did, but sometimes things just can’t be helped. Because when Etäay decided to lay a bold hand right on the apex of your thigh the sound of a crack coming from the branches above the both of you rippled through the forest causing your ears to fall back in fear as your body stiffened.

A nervous laugh would escape Etäay’s throat. He was just as startled as you were. And you didn’t blame him. Oh no you didn’t blame him at all. How could you when the atmosphere had changed so quickly? Everything had gone dark, a suck a gloomy feeling filling the air making it thick and hard to inhale. A feeling of being watched. stalked by unwanted and familiar eyes. It had your palms going clamy and throat dry. You knew those eyes, and you knew this presence.

“Jake..” it was barley audible, barley about a whisper.

“What?” Etäay would question from the side of you his hand leaving your thigh as he shuffled up uncomfortably. He obviously didn’t catch what you said.

“N-nothing, I’m sorry Etäay but I’m off to bed.” You’d pause “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

But deep down, a part of you knew you weren’t going to be seeing him tomorrow. Because a part of you knew Jake wasn’t going to let you.

As you shuffled up from your seat on the forest floor Etäay would give you his farewells before you scurried off like a little mouse. Your heart was thumping, beating just as fast as your mind was racing. ‘Was that really Jake? Or am I just paranoid?’ You asked yourself as you dodged, weaved, jumped, and maneuvered around the forest and it’s obstacles. But after shuffling around the forest for about 10 minutes your heart and mind had finally calmed down. A laugh would leave your throat, the sound echoing around the quiet forest.

You mumbled to yourself as you looked around the trunk of a girthy tree “I was definitely paranoid-“ a choke would fill the air as a giant and roughy blue hand met your throat with a harsh jab, long and thin fingers wrapping around the nape of your neck in a tight, vice like grip. Immediately your air was cut off and your body thrown against the bark of the girthy tree. An animalistic growl echoed through the forest, and rattled every bone in your body shaking you down to your very core your thighs rubbing together subconsciously.

‘Jake’

“Oh sweet girl I think you were paranoid just enough.”

Your eyes widened in confirmation at the sound of Jake, oh god jakes voice had your ears falling back and your tail wrapping around your own thigh. Jakes voice was almost hypnotizing a hint of anger and a promise of threat laced in his words, A cherry on top just for you.

Jakes grip on your neck only tightened, the danger of the lack of oxygen causing a sweet and sticky slick to form between your folds as your thighs rubbed together in unison. Black spots starting to cloud your vision, jakes yellow honey dew eyes never leaving yours, not even for a split second. Another aggressive growl would leave his throat as he held your body against the bark of the tree. Your hands would shoot to jakes forearms your nails digging into his blue flesh, breaking skin, drawing blood as you fought the brink of consciousness and unconsciousness. Your eyes would flutter closed as you tried to suck in a breath that wasn’t granted. Your vision getting blacker, blacker by the second. Your body and limbs weakening your hands slipping from jakes forearm as you slipped into unconsciousness. That was until a weight was finally lifted from your throat your knees hitting the forest floor with a loud thud.

Your gasps of air would fill the quiet forest as Jakes giant form loomed over your tiny one, him even taller as you sat on your knees your hand shooting to your throat in an attempt to ease the pain. There was definitely going to be a bruise you thought. A dark and very noticeable Bruise. A mark he was going to leave you with to remember him. The sounds of steps, jakes steps would have you shooting your head up to look at the man.

“You think you can just go around fucking, flirting or even looking in the direct on other guys sweet heart? …?” Jakes tone was dark, each word he spoke with a possessive snarl his canines glistening in the dark of the forest. “You think that’s okay?” Jake would quirk a brow at you.

A scoff would leave your throat as your hand continued to rub and sooth the bruising flesh.

“You don’t own me Jake. You’re a mated man.” Your words were thick, full of truth and venom. “So yes, I can go around. I can go around and find myself a mate. And he’ll be the only one allowed to touch me and make love to me.” Your ears would perk up with pride as you looked up to the man before you, still resting on your knees.

Jakes ears would twitch at your words, his whole body moving in a quick blur as his hand reached for your face his hand gripping your cheeks forcing them into an ‘o’ shape straining your neck to look up at him as he pulled you from your knees to your feet.

Jake was radiating heat and anger, his eyes boring holes into your very soul. He was fuming and oh my did it make slick run down your thigh. You liked him like this, liked him manhandling you. Like him choking you. Got you loved him choking you. He’d never done that before but now, now you were hooked. A dark look would cross jakes features as he stared at your ‘o’ shaped mouth and sinister smirk coating his beautiful face as an idea crossed his mind. Quickly Jake would shove you back down to your knees with a snarl his hands knotting into your hair the skin on the back of your scalp burning from his grip tears threatening to spill from the pain.

In a blur Jake would remove his groin cloth, an unholy groan leaving his lips as his member spring free from its confinement. Your eyes would widen when his long, blue, shaft collided with the skin of your cheek. The sight had your mouth weathering as you counted the bumps and ridges of his member saliva threatening to spill at any moment. Jakes grip on your hair would tighten, a slap to your cheek brining you back to reality causing you to look back up at the dominating Na’vi with doe eyes.

Another slap to your cheek, “open your fucking mouth.” Jakes honey dew eyes were staring right back into yours not an ounce of forgiveness in his orbs.

you wanted to resist you really wanted to, bout how could you? This man was your poison and you would do anything to get a taste even if it meant death. So, you obliged with a more than happy heart. Sticking your tongue out in the most sultry way as a pool of saliva ran from your tongue down the the forest floor. Im that moment you swear you heard jake suck in a breath and stutter. His demeanor faltering for only a second. But only for a second because before you knew it jakes member was getting shoved in and out of your throat in a ruthless and unforgiving pace, each thrust leaving you on the verge of gagging as his ridges caught onto parts of your throat only making the abuse on your throat worse. Ruthlessly Jake would fuck into your throat, small curses and growls leaving his throat as tears trickled down your blue cheeks your ears back and tail stiff.

“O-oh I’m not gonna make love to you b-baby girl, I’m gonna fuck you.” Jake would spit his words through his teeth with venom trying his best not to moan or let his demeanor fall.

A moan would fill your throat at jakes words, the vibrations from your throat brining Jake closer the the edge his thrusts getting faster and faster, quicker and sloppier. Sticky and sweet Slick was running down your thighs, the feeling of jakes member ramming into the back of your throat causing you an embarrassing amount of pleasure and ecstasy.

“Oh yeah you like that? Like the thought of me fucking you and taking you from behind huh sweet girl..?” A slap to your cheek and the tightening grip on your hair would cause another moan to leave your throat as you rubbed your thighs together in an attempt to ease some of your desire. “Yeah you do, fuck yeah you do you…” jakes thrusts we’re accentuated with his last few words as he reached his orgasm. “cause. You’re. Fucking. Mine.”

Jakes mouth would fall open when he finally reached his climax his head and ears falling back in pleasure and bliss as his hot and sticky seed coated the back of your abused throat.

Panting would fill the air as jake slowly removed his hand from your hair along with his member from your throat in a quick motion. Tears would stain your blue cheeks your skin damp and wet as you brought a shaky hand to the flesh in an attempt to dry your skin. Subconsciously you were still rubbing your thighs together as you bit your lip. Jake still standing tall in front of you.

“Oh we’re not done baby girl.” Jakes words were filled with a threat.

Roughly and forcefully jakes hands would find their way to your waist the blue Na’vi making easy work of flipping you onto your stomach, so that you were face down and ass up. Jakes hand would rub soothing Circles onto the flesh of your behind as he lined himself up with your entrance. You waited in anticipation. You knew it was going to hurt, be painful. Especially with a Na’vi of his size and girth. But you’d never expected him to do what he was just about to do, suddenly jakes hand was lifted from your arse, your hips would rut in the air in retaliation, you wanted him to touch you. To stretch you around his fingers to warm you up for him, but when the sudden sound of a slap filling the air and a quick shot of pain from between your legs came out of nowhere a mewl of pain and surprise escaped your throat.

“Y-you..” you couldn’t speak, you were in too much pain from jakes actions. From him thrusting his whole length into you in one go, without stretching you out or warming you up.

“Shhh, shhh, shhh baby girl. It’s okay. You’re okay.. fuck- fuck you’re squeezing me so good…” Jake would sit bottomed out inside of you for a few seconds before he finally decided to take his length almost all the way out just to slam right back into you. “…you deserve this, this is what you get sweet thing. D-daddy’s gotta teach you a lesson.”

A moan of pleasure and pain would leave your lips when jakes hand found it’s way to your throat for the second time of the night, the man’s large, long, and slender fingers wrapping all the way around your delicate throat as he pulled your back to his chest to he could cradle you one hand snaking to pleasure your little bundle of pleasure and nerves. Your body was on fire, jakes hand on your throat, his harsh thrusts, harsh words and harsh tone, his warmth was enough to set off every single nerve in your body.

“J-jake.. please.”

A laugh would rumble from jakes chest as he mumbled a ‘Nuh uh’ his fingers making quick and great work of your clit the action brining you closer and closer to the edge.

“Daddy’s gotta remind you who this pussy belongs to baby girl, he’s gotta remind you that you’re mine. He’s gotta show you what happens when you talk to other guys.” Jakes voice was sultry and demanding as his thrusts got faster and faster, deeper and deeper, roughy and rougher by the second.

You’d chant jakes name as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, climax, your orgasm. His grip on your neck only tightening as he pulled your back tighter against his chest, his eyes landing on the bulge that formed in your belly with each thrust. A guttural groan would leave jakes throat at the sight, his hips now pistoling into you at an unforgiving pace the sight making him chase his and your high.

A sharp moan would leave your throat as your nails dug into jakes forearm as he fucked you flush against his chest the angle causing him to hit deeper and deeper your velvety and gummy walls spasming around him, gripping onto him like a vice, suctioning, pulling him back into you with each of his thrusts.

The finally a knot would snap sending you into cloud nine, oblivion, All you saw was white as you scream jakes name and closed your eyes in pure ecstasy and pleasure your orgasm crashing into you like an ocean wave your ears falling back in triumph.

Jake would continue to piston into your weeping and swollen cunt your juices dripping down the both of your thighs as the sound of wet skin slapping skin filled the forest air. Jakes tail would wrap itself around your thigh as his ears fell back.

“Daddy’s gonna make you a mommy.”

Your eyes would shoot open at his words, but it was far too late jakes hips already sputtering as he stilled inside of you spilling his hot and sticky seed inside of you an ever so present bulge poking out from your tummy as both of your juices mixed onto the forest floor.

“That’s Daddy’s lesson.”

———————————————————————————

Authors note: ahahah, was this too much? Maybe. do I care? Maybe. But hoooopefully you enjoyed it. I tried my best to fufilll your wishes. And I’m sorry it took so long. I suck ballz. <3 ;)

[dirtytransmasc]

ATLA! Avatar au ramblings, cause I need them out of my skull:

[Disclaimer: this is basically just Avatar, but if there were benders. there are no rules. god is dead. I wear his crown. we go by my rules now, even if they break atla canon. canon is a suggestion now]

each clean tends to be made up of benders from two of the elements, people from the clan can carry both traits, even if one is dormant.

for example, the Omatikaya are made up of earth and airbenders. both Mo'at and Eytukan were airbenders, yet their daughter Neytiri was an earth bender, and Sylwanin was also an air bender.

Humans are rarely benders, at least compared to the Na'vi, as the destruction of Earth led to the loss of benders, but when they are benders, they have only been fire benders. this includes avatars. the RDA specifically targets and recruits fire benders.

Fire benders are rare on Pandora. very few clans produce fire benders. and with the destruction the humans and the RDA have caused, fire benders are almost taboo, especially in the forest clans that faced the brunt of their efforts.

Jake is a fire bender, he is heavily disconnected from the idea of spirit, fluidity, or nature within his bending. it gets better as he lives with the Omatikaya, but old habits die hard, so he'll ways be a messy fire user, and his fighting style is messy, MMA like, the reckless assault of a soldier and not an art. he doesn't truly incorporate his bending into his day to day life either, it's like a gun to him, not a part of his spirit and being.

Neytiri is an earth bender (and in my world, they can bend plants, because fuck you). while she is known for her combat on Ikran back, she is just as deadly in face to face combat, as she is a heavily offensive fighter, and she will punch you in the throat with a dagger she pulled from the earth. but in a more casual day to day, she uses it to get around the forest, to weave and craft, to cook even. she makes something solid like stone and wood look as fluid as air, and something as delicate as plant life look deadly and jagged. and as a healer she uses it not only to cultivate and refine healing plants, and even bone bend.

a fire bender and an earth bender, have 3 kids:

Neteyam is an earth bender, he presented quite young, maybe 5 or 7, and he takes after his mommy, with the added aggression of Jake's fire bending attitude. he inherited less of his mother's likeness to plant bending, but can magma bend extremely well for his age, keeping that same fluidity. but as much of his life is taken up by combat and training, he's also a crafter and has plenty of little siblings bringing him rocks and asking him to make them beads, so he's also doing a lot of that. (he has attempted to bend a tree fort into existence and fell through it and on his ass, trust, I was there)

Tuk is an air bender. she's only presented around 7, and only in little gusts, so she hasn't cultivated an exact style, she can only really play with little gusts of air, or go gliding about on her glider, but only when a sibling is with her, in case she falls. she's also just an agile little thing.

Lo'ak (for angst value) doesn't present for a long while, he makes it to nearly 13 before presenting, and he ends up being a fire bender.... which did not help his self image, in any manner. not only is he the demon blooded son, the one that never lives up to Jake and Neteyam, who looks like a freak, but now he's a fire bender too? just shoot him now.

Kiri, the child of Grace, who was not a bender, and Eywa, is an air bender (she's already Pandora Jesus, I'm not putting her through being the Avatar as well). she presented at 5, it never seemed like a big thing to her. Neytiri found her floating and that was that. she is heavily connected to her spirit, so she can astral project, and her world, which makes her very hyper sensitive to her surroundings. she uses her air bending to carry stuff, be more spry (in the comics she tends to fall behind her siblings, even Spider, who is much smaller than her. her air bending gives her the leg up to help her keep up). even after she gains an ikran, she tends to go gliding or just. floating. for funsies.

that leaves my son, my baby boy, Spider:

I'm making him the fucking avatar because I can.

[more bullshit below, this is just very long and I'd feel bad posting this behemoth and clogging people's feeds]

he is Eywa's first Sky child, her golden boy, and he is the bridge between humans and Na'vi— he is Na'vi in all but body, and human in all but soul —so she knows if anyone can soothe the tensions ripping her world apart, it will be him.

he starts out as a fire bender.

no one is shocked, even though he gave off his first sparks as a toddler. his parents had both been fire benders— Quaritch had mastered combustion, and Paz was known to give off smoke when pissed —this gets him even more ostracized than he was in canon from the get go. no one wants much to do with the fire bending son of Quaritch. no one can truly trust him, even as a child.

who's to say when he will become the wildfire everyone assumes he will become? who's to say he's not dangerous, even as a child? especially without the help of a fire bending master to aid him (could Jake do it? yes. do I think Jake would commit to that long term? absolutely not).

despite this, the Sully kids are his siblings, from the moment they meet. he's their big brother, watching out for them, promising his flames as their shield, forever and ever. no one will ever hurt them. that they don't need to be scared of him, because he'd burn himself to a crisp before burning them. and his will is so strong, he's never accidentally burned them like he has others. his spirit knows better. it's strong enough to render the heat to nothing.

so the second Spider can leave the confines of Hellsgate and go out into Eywa's jungle, he is more than pleased to do so. he isn't judged there. the animals don't flinch away from him or stare at him like they're seeing secrets from the future.

he bends in secret, first with fire, just dancing a flame over his hands, slowly gaining trust in himself and his control, and developing his own style of bending, one similar to the airbenders of the clan, as that's the closest thing he has to go off of.

and if he has dreams of Toruk like creatures, showing him the art of fire, when he falls asleep in the grassy clearings of Eywa's world, he won't question it.

and when he hears whispers of 'try it' when he thinks of attempting to bend a different element, even just pretending, child's play, he listens, because he trusts the soft voice in his ear.

he bends air first. while not rare, those who bend air are considered special, connect to the spirit of Eywa. it's a sign. well, it would be had anyone paid enough mind to the boy to see it.

air bending comes naturally. he'd been watching those around him air bend for years. he'd mimicked their movements while playing with his siblings. it feels right. like it was what he was destined for (Eywa just needed time to manipulate his soul). it keeps him alive in the jungle, not only cause it allows him to take riskier paths and such, but also because it allows him without an exopack.

earth comes next. again. he'd watched earth benders for years. longed to manipulate the forest like them. to create instead of destroy. wanted to heal instead of heal. wanted to use brute forced over his flames, because his flames were looked at with fear, while the other boys trained their bending and were cheered on. he can work plants as if it was as easy as breathing. weaving them together into forts and hide outs and supplies.

water is last, and seeing as it's the opposite of his birth element, he has no mentor, and not even a faint clue on how it works, it is his weakest. but he has an affinity for healing, even if it only works on little cuts and scrapes, maybe a bruise if he's lucky.

by twelve he is mostly living on his own in the woods. it's near impossible to keep him in the compound anymore. he's not interested.

no one has any idea what he is. Spider can't even fully believe it himself and all's down spirals of thinking he's giving into his human greed, somehow (don't blame him, he's just a little guy, a dumb little guy who doesn't know maths, and grew up around people who all but hated him. let him have a dumb dumb complex).

the only people who have a slight idea are his siblings; he bends too much on instinct. he reached out to catch his siblings, shifting the ground beneath them just a tad, or shooting a vine around their ankle or using a swift puff of wind to stop their descent. he heals small cuts while thumbing over them, rolling a little bead of water on the broken or bruised skin. he brings them up into elaborate tree forts.

his siblings only keep from saying something because of the look of pure terror he gets on his face when he catches himself.

as time goes on, he becomes more open with them. by 15 it's common knowledge amongst them who and what Spider is, but he still won't let them tell the clan. but he has Kiri and Neteyam to help him with his air and earth bending, as they can regurgitate their own lessons back to him, which makes him stronger over all, even if he continues to use his own methods.

Jake and Neytiri only find out the night he was taken; when he gave his all to protect his baby siblings from the recoms, all fire benders, and exposed the level of power he held... and was subsequently taken for.

and then he gets adventures with his papa and the squad. that he is so so so so so happy about (kill him).

bonus info that doesn't fit into the vaguely timeline coherent ramblings above:

Spider is a healer by nature, it's in his heart and soul. so while he trains himself for combat, it's simply natural for him to want to fix things, to help people, to give himself and his power over if it means he can soothe one ache in his people. so Spider learns all of the healing arts he can. he develops his own even. refines bone and blood bending to heal people. uses the scientific understanding of things that he picked up as a human to make better medicines, etc.

speaking of blood/bonebending. my boy is going to snap at some point during his captivity and fuck some people up with that, because he knows the dogs of the RDA deserve it. perhaps it's after Neteyam's death that triggers it. or maybe the Tulkun hunt/attack on the Ta'unui. it's something, something that has him going in a carnage spree.

he will train with Mo'at and Ronal when they find out about him. Mo'at will knowingly pass him over — she knew early in he was special, but knew, in terms of his learning, the forest was not his place, for there was too much pain. but she would watch out for him as she had his whole life, in her own ways — while Ronal will become one of his footholds in life. a place where he will always feel like he can drift back to.

~~~

that's all I have for now. it's a shit ton. I have maladaptive daydreamed part this point, but I'll probably be back on my bullshit eventually. I'll have more on Q and the water tribe and what not.

[stealingpotatoes]

so if im right, we will get from u dragon age, any sw stuff, spy x family and now avatar [j. cameron]? I love you bestie❤️🫶

i've gotta make your statement more correct so here's Jake and his daughter, Autism Jesus <3

[thetombedspirit]

So... I could be totally wrong, but based on the new promo pictures for Avatar 3, I think the Ash People are going to be less of a tribe and more of a cult.

I mean, just look at this image for starters. The ones one surrounding Varang are wearing some freaky looking masks, and Varang seems to be wearing an outfit made entirely of Na'vi braids. That is insane and defiantly makes me afraid of this woman. So no wonder she and Quaritch team up at some point.

You can actually see glimpses of Lyle and Quaritch in the back here as Varang introduces a new kind of creature, which is also pretty dope.

In fact, you can see a LOT of Na'vi here weilding guns, like WHAT?!?!

Which brings me to another image that I think really proves that not only are these people a cult, but they're a cult that worships the Sky People.

Yep. They have air balloon ships. We literally have Na'vi Sky Pirates.

All jokes aside though, what I think is going on is that the Ash People are a Cargo Cult, a group of indigenous people who see bizarre looking strangers coming from a foreign land (or in this case, planet) and basically liken them to Gods (for better details, I recommend watching Game Theory's Minecraft Cult video.)

Anyway, what I'm getting at here is that Na'vi like Varang probably were inspired by the Sky People and their giant metal ikran that could fit more then one person, and their weapons and tried to recreate them, disregarding the way of Eywa, which likely didn't go over well with the other Na'vi. Especially after Grace's School; they were probably banished when those particular Na'vi still supported them after the fact.

But when the RDA was first defeated and sent away, Varang and those Na'vi, like the Cargo Cults of Earth, tried anything to get them to return. They wear masks over their faces, they recreated their ships, they teach themselves how to use their weapons and basically making menaces of themselves to other Na'vi.

And so, Varang become the Olo'eykte of a new clan. A clan that worships the innovations and technologies of the Sky People.

And I bet they would be very excited if they were ever to come across Miles and Lyle, humans that have been reborn into Na'vi, hence why they start working together, which would be a scary thought to think about.

But it would make sense too, because, before, when I still thought of the Ash People as a legitimate clan, I never understood why a clan would be supportive of what they're doing if they worshipped Eywa and help them attack other Na'vi. Like why side with Quaritch when he wants to help the RDA perform a hostile takeover and not Jake, who wants to preserve the Na'vi home and way of life. But it does make sense to me, if they were ostracized by their people for their continued adoration of their techniques.

In fact, if I was to really dig into this, this might explain Teylan and his fascination with human tech too. If others are just as intrigued by their tech, then so would he.

So yeah, that is my reasoning for why I think the Ash People are a cult and why they would align themselves with the RDA. Please let me know what you think and I can't wait to see this movie!!!💙

EDIT!!

So these airships...

What I may have misinterpreted as a Ash People replication of ships may actually belong to another tribe that's to feature in the film. The Windtraders.

And that makes sense with this image of Neytiri and her Ikran flying beside them. The Ikran's calm, Neytiri has no weapon ready, so I can only assume that the Windtraders are a tribe of nomadic merchants, who travel from place to place and, as the name implies, trade with other clans.

Maybe one such clan they trade with is the Metkayina, and that's how we'll get introduced to this clan and their way of living.

I still %100 believe that the Ash People are a cult, but I just wanted to clarify my mishap.

And who knows? Maybe the Ash People are scheming to steal their ships so that they can really imitate the Sky People and that's how the Sully's confront them.

Be a good way to kick start the plot is all I'm thinking.

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI 

Labor of Love - Part II

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: zero smut, angst angst angst, mention of past trauma, expletives, pregnancy, contractions, heavily described labour, blood, mild physical violence, reader is really going through it, ralak is too but he'll be alright i promise, brother!neteyam makes a star appearance, cute family fluff, let me know if i forgot anything

Word Count: 6.5k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Hope you're enjoying your tour in angst town...we're almost finished. You could say we're nearing the final attraction, so continue to keep your seatbelts buckled. lol why am i like this? anyways... please don't hate me for this chapter, and i will try my best to get the next one out quicker so you guys can get some closure lool :)

Synopsis: You didn't plan for things to turn out this way. But no amount of denial can make reality go away...

<- Previous -> Next

And when Ralak sees it, he almost caves in on himself. His mask of indifference—of intimidation, cracks. Hell, it shatters. Into thousands of pieces, scattered at his feet. Tonowari’s previous right hand. The banished.  His karyu.

Time chips by at a torturous pace. You spend the first hour sitting on the beach, eating some fruit whilst watching what your brothers get up to. Neteyam, of course, is bearing most of the responsibility whilst Lo’ak and Tuk are taking a more easy approach to the day. Mom and dad made sure to leave them with a list of things to get done whilst they’re away—number one being to keep an eye on their sisters. 

Number one, check. 

All that floods your mind is your mate and if he’s okay. You try to process everything he’s said but it’s all too much to wrap your head around. All too new. Your brothers aren’t much help either, as they claim to be ‘out the loop’ as much as you are. You know it's bullshit, and probably just another thing that they’ve been ordered to keep from you so as not to ‘stress you out’. 

Regardless, it’s all you can think about. 

Until you feel your son do a flip in your womb, big enough to make you gasp. Your hands immediately fly to your belly, feeling around to gauge his position. A pressure begins to grow against your bladder. One so intense it presses into your tailbone too. The pads of your fingers sink into the skin, tapping around as you make out a leg, then a knee. A hand to the left. 

Is he…head down? You think to yourself. 

“Everything alright?” Neteyam asks, concern wrinkling his forehead.  

“Hm?” You look up, seeing the outline of his silhouette in front of the sun. 

“You okay? You’re…you look a little—”

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. He’s moving a lot today.” You smile, catching Tuk excitedly running over in the corner of your eye. 

“Really? Can I feel? Please?” She squeals excitedly, falling to her knees in the sand next to you. 

“Of course, Tuk.” You smile, and place her hand on top of your stomach, right where his foot is. Only a few seconds pass by until your son gives Tuk a strong kick, making her mouth open with glee. 

“Wow! Tey, you gotta feel this!” Tuk exclaims, tugging your brother by the hand so he’s next to you too. Neteyam looks at you, unsure if you’re okay with it. You nod with a gentle smile, tugging his hand over to the other side of your stomach. His hand hovers as he hesitates for a moment, this is his first time feeling his nephew move. He gives you a final look, and gently rests his hand on your belly

A few moments pass and nothing. 

“Aww, he stopped moving.” Tuk sighs with a pout. 

“Patience, Tuk.” You whisper, feeling him kick on cue. Her face lights up with a beaming smile and Neteyam seems to be in awe with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. 

“Woah, y/n. Your tummy’s getting hard.” Tuk says innocently, looking at her brother to see if he feels it too. 

“Hm?” You hum, feeling a bit spaced out and achy.   

“It is.” Neteyam lets go and keeps his hands to himself, feeling like he’s invading your personal space. A heat floods your back, and you feel your thighs spasm. You begin to groan, holding your breath until the strange feeling subsides. “Hey. You okay?” 

You nod, finally release your breath, and hear Tuk’s excited voice. “It’s all soft now!” 

“All good.” You smile, but Neteyam doesn’t seem convinced at all. “Ronal says they are normal. They aren’t the real thing. Mom had them with Tuk, remember?” 

Neteyams' features soften as he nods, prying his little sister's hands off of you. “Ease up now, Tuk.” 

“Sorry, sis.” She says quietly, ears laying flat to her head. 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” You say as you roll to your side to get up, shamelessly using Neteyam to gain some momentum. “Think it’s time for me to take a walk, though.” 

“Yes, sure. Where are we going?” Neteyam asks, ready to accompany you anywhere.

“I’m going down to the rocks.” You emphasise on the first word, making it clear you need some alone time after being babysat all day. “I think Lo’ak needs some help with the net.”

Neteyam and Tuk look over to see their brother struggling with a tangled fishing net, and turn back to see that you’re already waddling down the beach. 

——

Suddenly, Ralak’s back inside of his family marui pod on his iknimaya night. Trapped. Small. Powerless. Cornered by a person he once looked up to. A person he trusted. Manipulated by her heat— her pheromones. A crime punishable by banishment. Forced to give, forced to receive. A betrayal he’ll never forget. A face he swore to himself that he would never see again. 

No wonder they ‘demanded’ his presence.

Tonowari and Ronal lose their colour when their eyes land on her. It’s been so many years. They quickly look over to Ralak, who is seemingly falling to pieces where he stands. The expression on his face is no short of pure shock and… terror. Truthfully, the last time they’d seen such an expression on his face was the deaths of his parents and spirit brother. Jake and Neytiri aren’t aware of what’s going on, but they know it must be serious for Ralak to be so…expressive. 

They can even see his shoulders heave from how hard he’s breathing, and how his face of terror quickly morphs into something of fury. Tonowari notices the way he tightens his grip on his weapon, and his eyes as they gloss over red with rage. It takes a lot to make this man blind with anger. Tonowari knows if he doesn't step in now that this could turn sour in the blink of an eye. 

——

Two.

Releasing a shaky exhale, you begin your walk back to your siblings. That was the second ‘practice’ contraction you’ve had since starting your walk, and your third since coming here with your brothers. Your waddle is becoming more sluggish with each step and the fire in your back is beginning to burn hotter rather than fade out. 

“Not now, little one.” You whisper as you caress your bump. “…please.” 

Weariness sets in as you make it halfway back, making you perch on your knees to take a break. The fire spreads from your back to your thighs, and up your stomach. You brace yourself for the tight feeling, holding your breath in the base of your chest. You grumble a little, swaying side to side until it passes, which thankfully doesn’t take more than a few seconds. 

Three.

Finally making it back to the beach, you see Neteyam and Lo’ak hauling a few sacks on their backs, with Tuk skipping behind them. You overhear Lo’ak trying to convince Neteyam to let him be with the other warriors, and Neteyam reminding him of your parents orders. They stop mid sentence when they hear your heavy, muffled footsteps, taking one look at you and knowing that something isn’t right. Lo’ak in particular, to your surprise. 

“Damn. You look exhausted.” Lo’ak says, earning a jab in the rib by Neteyams elbow. “What? She looks like she’s about to pass out.” 

“You can’t say that to a pregnant woman, skxawng [idiot].” Neteyam hisses.

“It’s fine. He’s not wrong.” You say, tail dragging low and heavy behind you. Ralak still clouds your mind, and you’re eager to know if he’s back yet. “I want to go home now. I really need to lie down.” 

Neteyam just nods, understanding that something deeper is going on. “I will take you.” 

“I got it, bro.” Lo’ak interjects, plunking the sack off his back and onto the ground.  

“Stay with Tuk.” Neteyam orders, clicking for his skimwing. 

“Why don’t you stay with Tuk?” Lo’ak snaps back. 

“Guys. Please?” You sigh, waddling towards the winged beast, throwing a leg over its tough back. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Come ‘teyam.” Neteyam smirks, making the bond with the beast and mounting it in one swift move. 

As you arrive at your marui, you see Zu’té at the outside fire pit, concentrating on not burning yet another type of meat-on-a-stick. Hearing your arrival, Zu’té turns and acknowledges your presence. He puts down the sizzling meat on a leaf, allowing the fire to continue to burn as he begins to make his way over to collect you. Neteyam and him exchange glances and silent greetings, and suddenly the air is thick. 

“Right…I’m going up. Thank you, tey. See you.” You say out of breath, giving him a quick hug.

“Let me—” Neteyam begins.

“No, I’m okay.” You cut off your brother, hualing yourself off the tsurak. 

“Right. Kìyevame [see you again soon]. If you need me, send your watchdog.” He speaks clearly, holding you by the wrist to steady you as you get off. 

“I will, tey.” You chuckle lightly and make your way to the marui. Neteyam waits patiently, making sure you get in safely. 

Zu’té is only half way there when you reach the bottom step, already offering his arm for the stairs. You sigh and shake your head, hurriedly climbing the stairs as fast as your swollen ankles will allow it. For some reason, his gesture really annoys you. Your mood is off and you feel queasy and achy—like your entire body is throbbing. 

All you want is for everyone around you to stop babying you, and let you be alone for the rest of the day. 

“I got it.” Your voice strains as you wobble ahead, leaving Zu’té and your brother behind. Neteyam remains silent for some time, locking eyes with Zu’té. 

‘Keep a close eye.’ Neteyam signs with disquiet wrinkling his forehead. Zu’té gives him a puzzled look at first, but slowly nods when he successfully deciphers the message. Neteyam nods as well and dives underwater. 

By the time Zu’té gets to the bottom step, you’re already at the top, clutching onto the railing as you lean forward in pain. You couldn’t even make it into the pod without another hitting you so soon. You take a few deep breaths rather than holding it in, waiting until the tight feeling subsides. 

Four.

Zu’té darts up the stairs to your side, offering a hand in support only to be swatted away. “What is it?”

“It is nothing.” You catch your breath and insist that it was nothing—because it was nothing, right?

His brows furrow in disbelief, a look of concern washing over his face. Zu’té allows his eyes to fall to your bulging, veiny belly for the first time, taking in the sight. “You were in pain.”

“I’m fine.” You’re short with him, stony eyes staring into his.

“Someone once told me no good comes from pretending that things don’t hurt.” 

“Well nothing’s happening until my husband is back. Okay?” You try to remain nonchalant, to believe your own words. 

He simply stares down at you for a bit, analysing your facial expression. Despite your stone cold facade, he can easily  see the fear etched into your features. Fear that this baby may come before Ralaks return and that if you allow yourself to accept reality, then it may really come true. He glances down at your hand still stuck to the side of your stomach and swallows, looking back up to you. 

“Understood.” 

“Right. Now...” You huff, contemplating if you should say what you want to say. You feel like telling him to back off—to give you some space. But he’s obviously just making sure you’re okay. “...I need to lie down. Just, keep an eye out for—” 

“My brother? Sure. Rest well.” 

——

“Ay’ana.” 

The Olo’eyktan lets out a lengthy growl, earning a look from the traitor herself. 

“Waari.” She sings with a grin, shifting her leer to his mate behind him. “Ronal.” Her eyes fall to her swollen belly, “You are expecting…again.” 

It wasn’t a, ‘congratulations’ either, no. But rather a ‘I see that you are the most vulnerable.’

Ronal scowls, hissing through her teeth. Tonowari steps in front of his mate, blocking her from Ay’ana’s view. 

It was one thing to commit kawngkem [a crime; evil deed] and be banished for it, but it’s another to seek uturu with the enemy. She is no longer considered to be among the ‘banished’, but is now the ‘enemy’. 

Ay’ana looks behind Tonowari, not at Ronal, but at the two deeper skinned, slender na’vis. She scoffs, the corner of her mouth pulling into an evil smirk, revealing her sharpened teeth. Tonowaris eyes widen when he sees that she’s completely adapted to this vile peoples’ ways by putting a file to her teeth. Her eyes flick past them to the last person, the most important. 

“Ralak.” She slowly moans his name as she peers up at him with sultry eyes, allowing her tongue to glaze over her canines. “Such a pleasure.” Ralak winces, chest heaving violently as it fills with repulsion and loathing. “Ah. I remember you being quiet, but not this quiet. Nothing to say to your karyu?”

——

A couple hours have passed and the pain is enough to disrupt your rest. The sunlight dulls with each passing minute, casting a familiar orange hue into the marui. It comes in waves, rippling through you like a bolt of lightning striking the tallest tree in the forest. Making it hard to tell yourself that things are okay—making it hard to keep things quiet. 

“Agh!” You groan suddenly, feeling another jolt of electricity shoot up your spine. It stops you in your tracks, the tracks you’ve been burning into the floor with your constant, nervous pacing. You quiet down into a whisper, “...please wait for your sempu [daddy], my child.” 

“You—uhm.” You hear Zu’té clear his throat at the door, projecting his voice so that you can hear him through the curtain, “You alright in there?”

“Mmn—yes! Fine.” You grate out, making your way back to the bed to lie down. Your feet are so sore.

“Hungry?” He asks, food in hand in the case you were. 

“‘m not.” You try to speak up, but you’re still in the height of the contraction. 

He grits his teeth, leaning into the frame of the marui door. “I didn’t burn it this time.” 

You wish you could laugh, but you can’t even muster up the strength to raise your voice.

Zu’té lingers at the door quietly, knowing plain as day that you weren’t okay. “...what about water?” 

“No...I’ve got.” You say at a normal volume, finally released from the constraints of your pain. 

You begin closing your eyes in hopes that sleep may find you, even if it's just for a few minutes. Zu’té remains at the door for a moment longer, feeling so helpless and useless. He sinks back to the floor, putting down the meat and picking up a new, special piece to weave. 

Weaving passed the time, distracting him from the tiny sounds that managed to escape your mouth. 

Until night fell, and those tiny sounds morphed into deep, lengthy groans and high pitched wails. 

——

“Let us begin.” Tonowari speaks over Ay’ana, averting all attention back to their leader, another female that goes by the name of ‘Varang’. 

She’s almost grey in colour, embellished with a red headpiece that resembles something of an ikrans wings. Her eyes narrow as she looks straight at Tonowari, standing close to his height. 

“Let us.” She hisses with a smile, leading Tonowari to a smaller, private room sectioned by a leather curtain. She motions to Ay’ana to accompany her, leaving the rest of her men to stay with the others. Tonowari lets out a soft grunt, and grits his teeth. He knows he must choose, but his mate is heavy with child and Jake has no interest in leaving his mate in such a place alone. Therefore, he must choose his right hand—Ralak. He motions with a quick tilt of his head, prompting Ralak to clutch his weapon close to his chest and follow closely behind. 

——

“Y/n.” Zu’té’s at the curtain again, half considering to pull it back and come in on his own terms. But he would never invade your privacy like that. And by the sounds of it, things are picking up. “Do you need the healer?”

“No!” You shout out of breath, wobbling to the door with a hand clutching your stomach. You lean all your weight against the wall, knowing he’s on the other side waiting. “No healer.” 

You’re drenched in sweat, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. He hears your back slide against the surface, and he mirrors your movements, sitting on the floor too. Only a wall sits between your backs, separating you two. 

“You’re in labour.” Zu’té speaks, his poor attempt at urging you to face reality.

You know that. Of course you know that. But you don’t want it to be true—you didn’t expect it to happen this way—you didnt want it to happen this way. You take a few deep breaths, concentrating on breathing through the remainder of this horrible feeling. And when it’s finally over, you rest your head against the wall and close your eyes—leaving silence to fill the air. 

Where are you, Ralak? 

——

The room is much smaller than the one they were in, equipped with some sort of table or workbench with a few spears and bows mounted on the wall. Ralak stands quietly behind Tonowari, as does Ay’ana to Varang. 

As they negotiate the terms of the treaty, Ay’ana keeps her eyes locked onto Ralak with a smug look on her face. Her hungry eyes wander, shamelessly taking in every inch of the man before her, surprised by how much he has changed. He’s much bigger, more filled out in his warrior attire. His muscles—more defined, thicker. His skin—calloused and scarred. Inked, unlike before.

And as her eyes trail down the line between his abs they lay upon the six stripes that peak out over the band of his loincloth. Her eyes widen and glisten with greed before darting back up to his face, meeting his eyes that bore into her fearlessly. 

What’s worse is that she can see that his mind is elsewhere. 

That his mind runs on you. You’re all he’s been thinking about since he stepped off the reef. He feels deep in his heart that something isn’t right back home. That you need him. That perhaps, you’re calling for him right now, swollen and heavy with his child. 

And it bothers her. 

“It is decided, then.” Tonowari speaks in a confident tone.

“Yes, it is.” Varang’s smile is uncanny as she unsheaths a small, double edged knife from her hip. 

She grabs Tonowari by the hand, placing the blade in the middle of his palm, and closes his fingers around it. She rips it from his hand, drawing blood, and then hands Tonowari the knife and gives him her hand. He returns the unsettling act, slitting her palm. She keeps a smile on her face, locking hands with him until their blood combines and drips to their feet. 

Supposedly, it is a method of establishing some level of trust between the two. Where each has the ability to do much greater harm, but makes the deliberate choice not to. Then, when blood has been drawn, it is mixed by bringing the hands together, sealing the treaty. 

“Bound by blood.” Varang whispers, letting go of his hand to bring hers to her mouth for a taste. 

She sighs and smiles, popping a thumb in her mouth before gesturing to him that they leave. Tonowari fights the flinch on his face, disturbed by her behaviour. Ay’ana stays back, watching the two leaders exit the room. But as Ralak is about to leave behind Tonowari, Ay’ana calls for him. 

——

Another couple agonising hours pass, and you’re constantly changing positions in hopes of finding some relief. Desperation sets in, making you beg the great mother herself to guide you through this. To bring your mate back home. But there’s still no sign of his return. The night dew settles on all the surfaces around you. Pacing no longer helps, leaving you to take refuge in your bed, panting and shivering. 

No matter how much you twist and turn, your stomach only tightens more. Deep groans rip past your lips to cope with the feeling—the pain shooting through your core. Beads of sweat roll off your body at an alarming rate, soaking the sheets on your bed. You feel him move further down, his head now sitting plush in your pelvis, creating an immense pressure that’s almost unbearable. His feet press into your ribs, and with each strained breath you begin to yearn for your mate more and more. For his comforting touch. For the bond.  

“Ralak…” 

——

“Ralak.” She sings, making him stop dead in his tracks. “A word.” 

His ears tuck back and he looks at Tonowari, who gives him a begrudged nod. Ralak sighs and turns around, fixing his mask of indifference tightly to his face. He remains silent, his hand practically bonded to his spear. 

“Still tight lipped, hm? Come now, tak. That is no way to treat your karyu.” She speaks in a condescending tone, approaching him warily. 

Ralak nearly takes the bait, a heat growing in his chest so hot it makes his jaw tense. How dare she call herself that? To taint such a word? He swallows, taking a single, deep breath to recenter himself as he looks away from her. 

“I have to admit.” She steps towards him, the crown of her head meeting the bow of his shoulder. “You have grown into a fine man. You are taller than me now.”  

Ralak just looks down at her, still as stone, his mind consumed with the fact that he could be on his way home to you but this…vile creature is keeping him away. But he will do what he needs to keep you safe, even if it means to tolerate this for the time being. 

With no reaction, Ay’ana grows frustrated and begins circling him, a single finger tracing around his body. 

“You know…My body still yearns for you.” She speaks with a sultry voice, stopping at his side and bringing herself to the tips of her toes to whisper in his ear, “...especially when I’m in heat.”

For a second, Ralak succumbs to her tactics, the ones she used to use on him years ago. A memory, forcibly resurfaced, reminding him of the way she whispered in his ear on that night. It makes him feel so small. Impotent. But only for a second. Ralak recoils, stepping back to create distance between them. He towers over her, dwarfing this small, lanky woman, regaining his confidence and power. 

“Is that all?” He growls, looking her dead in the eye—facing his past with no fear. 

Facing the reason why he lived in a bottle before he met you. You. You. He can feel you. He can feel you yearn for him and he’s ready to come home to you. For this to be over. 

He’s too focused on you to even notice Ay’ana’s face of shock. Shock to know that she’s been releasing her pheromones this entire time and he’s been completely oblivious to them. Which only means one thing. 

“You’re mated.” She gasps. 

And he’s back. 

Staring at a mirror now that he is, too, in a state of shock. Ralak’s heart leaps out his chest, beating so hard that Ay’ana can hear it. How could she know that? He watches as a grin spreads across her face, ear to ear. She knows she’s got him now, despite the jealousy bubbling inside her. She could use this to her advantage—it didn’t matter to her that he’s called for, after all. 

“Using tsaheylu for such useless things.” She bellows a wicked laugh, which fades out when she sees an even more serious look on his face. A look that tells her he’s trying to mask something more, something deeper. “Oh? Is there more to it?” The twitch of his brows and quick flare to his nostrils reveals the truth. “I have to know. What is it, hm?” She nears him once more, two fingers walking up his chest. “Come now, you were never this hard to read.” 

Ralak remains silent, focusing on slowing his heart rate. 

“Is she ill?” She asks as she searches his eyes, fingers grazing across his quivering jawbone. “No, no. It’s not that.” She sighs, stepping closer and closer until his back hits the wall. He moves his head away from her touch, still looking her in the eye—refusing to be the first to break eye contact. Her eyes light up and her ears stand tall.

“She carries your child, doesn’t she?” Her eyes gloss over green with envy. “Pregnant.”

Ralak swallows his spit, the lump in the column of his throat quickly undulating. 

“There it is. I knew you would make strong babies.” Her hand slips down his chest, slithering over his abs and down to the twine of his loincloth, causing him to jolt. “Ralak.” She moans his name slowly, “Oh, Ralak. The last I see of you, you were barely covered in this vile ink with no one at your side…and now you are mated and a father to be.” Her fingers tickle the raised skin on his most intimate tattoo. “I have always longed to be bred by you.” Her fingers attempt to burrow themselves under the band of his loincloth.

“Enough.” He lets out a deep growl, shoving her away, dropping his weapon in doing so. She loses and quickly regains her balance in a few seconds, throwing herself on him. He grabs her by the wrists, restraining her with ease so that she can’t come any closer to him. 

“Perhaps we need to renegotiate the terms so that you are a part of them, yes?” Her voice is full of desperation, trembling as she strains against him. “How does that sound numeyu? You know we have a population problem, right? We could all use you.”

“I have no interest in being your stud.” Ralak spits, forcefully shoving her away, causing her to stumble back and for her head to hit the table. 

He moves quickly, picking up his spear off the ground and heading for the door. She lunges at him, dagger unsheathed from her hip and armed in her hand, whilst her other arm snakes around his throat to pull him onto the ground. 

During the struggle, Ralak drags her off his back, resulting in a nasty gash from his collarbone and down his shoulder blade. He hisses from the burn, instantly assuming an offensive stance to plunge his spear through. Ay’ana returns the hiss, crouching with her bloodied dagger ready to strike.  

“I will kill you.” Ralak threatens, nearing the pointed tip closer and closer to her chest. “And I will take great joy in doing so.”  

“Is that right?” Ay’ana hisses, tail wagging in excitement with unsettling smile spread across her face. She looks as if she’s toying with him. As if she’s playing a game and she’s winning. “Let me have a taste of you.” 

“Nìtam! [Enough!]” Tonowari roars as he yanks back the curtain, instantly averting Ay’ana’s attention to him. Perhaps it was her roots calling her to respond to her true leader. Varang appears beside him with a scowl stained on her face, displeased with her subordinate. One more move and the treaty would’ve already been broken. 

“Easy, Tak.” Tonowari murmurs, and Ralak relaxes into position next to him, blood trickling down his chest and back. 

“Come with me.” Varang snarls at Ay’ana, seizing her by the queue.

“Night has fallen. We will take our leave.” Tonowari speaks roughly, trying his hardest to contain his anger as he rests a careful hand resting on Ralak—leading him out the room.

“In another ten years, Olo’eyktan.”

Tonowari grunts as he and the rest push past the swarming ash people. As soon as they’re far enough, he stops Ralak and has Ronal safely look at his wound. It’s weeping and open, prone to a nasty infection if not dressed immediately. She unclasps her medicine pouch from her hip, and retrieves a small bottle of iridescent liquid, a viscous concoction of herbs, and a needle and thread.

“Come, son.” Tonowari speaks softly, ripping the cork from the small bottle with his back teeth and spitting it on the ground. “That vonvä’.”

Ralak sits on the nearest rock, elbows propped on his knees and head hung low to hide his face. Jake and Neytiri observe in silence, cringing as Tonowari douses the gash with the liquid as Ronal prepares the needle and thread. 

Ralak groans, biting down tooth on tooth. 

Tonowari leaves a little left in the bottle, offering it to Ralak who is visibly trying to keep it together. He plucks the bottle from Tonowari’s hand and knocks it back, puffing out a sigh. 

“Keep still.” Ronal orders, driving the wooden needle through his skin. 

Ralak grumbles, letting his head hang between his knees and his hair fall forward. At this point Neytiri looks away, but Jake can’t. His eyes are plastered to the scene unfolding before him as he recognizes his son-in-law’s strength and perseverance. 

“That should hold until we are back.” She declares, gathering her supplies and stuffing them back into her pouch. 

“Irayo [thank you], Ronal.”

“You’re strong, boy.” Jake mumbles, patting Ralaks back as he gets up. “Anyone care to explain what the hell happened back there?” 

Ralak just shakes his head, leaving Tonowari to speak for him. “I will explain on the way back. You all have someone waiting for you.”

Ralak’s ears spring up at the thought of you, giving him a burst of energy to spring to his feet, gather his gear and lead the trek himself. The women walk behind him, concerned about his wound. Tonowari and Jake are left at the back, sharing a look before they begin their journey. 

——

“Fuck. Fuck.” You pant, looking down at your trembling hands that sink into the bed through double vision. You sway from side to side, trying to take steady, deep breaths, but the pressure between your legs is starting to make you panic. The possibility that you may have to do this alone is quickly becoming a reality. 

Zu’té is the one doing the pacing now, unable to sit still in his spot for much longer. He has long abandoned his woven pieces, burning lines into the patio floor as he walks back and forth outside—conflicted on his next move. 

He doesn’t want to go against your wishes and call a healer without you requesting it. But he must keep his word to Ralak—to keep you safe—which means calling for a healer. He chews on the toughened skin on his thumb, listening to your continuous whimpers and whines. By the sounds of it, you’re in active labour now, ready to give birth at any moment. 

——

A few hours have passed since they started the trek back home. Everyone has fallen into new positions that work for them. Ralak, eager to be at his pregnant mate’s side, leads the pack, clearing the path for the others. Jake and Neytiri stay not too far behind him, keeping a vigilant eye on their surroundings. Tonowari and Ronal are far at the back, linked together as she trudges on despite her extreme weariness.

“Let us take another break.” Tonowari speaks quietly to his mate, hand on her stomach. They share a look, speaking to one another with their eyes. She doesn’t want to hold up the group much more than she already has. 

“No. We are almost there—ugh!” Ronal lets out a sudden groan, clutching her stomach as she doubles over. 

Everyone stops dead in their tracks, turning around with wide eyes. Tonowari supports her, and carefully walks her over to a nearby fallen log, lowering her down onto it. She takes a few deep breaths as Neytiri and Jake rush over to her. 

“Is it time?” Neytiri asks, crouching down next to her. Ronal nods once, completely in tune with her body and aware of exactly what’s happening.

Which is why she insisted they continue, or else she won’t make it back in time. Ralak watches at a distance, his face contorting with sheer worry. No, borderline distress. He looks almost mortified, but not for the reasons that one may think. They all know why, it's obvious. If Ronal is in labour,

…that means you probably are too.  

“Go ahead.” Ronal pants, beads beginning to form at her temple. 

But Ralak doesn’t move. He can’t move. He’s at conflict with himself. An internal battle of knowing that he should stay and help, even though he really wants to go—needs to go. 

“We got it, son. Go to her.” Jake huffs as he helps Tonowari lift Ronal to carry her. “Go on!” He shouts, prompting Ralak to look to his father figure for approval, to which he meets him with a quick nod before averting his attention back to his labouring mate. And with Neytiri’s soft smile of reassurance, Ralak takes a few steps back before turning his heel and booking it home. 

——

“Haah…holy fuck—holy fuck.” You moan, feeling another contraction start up and the pressure between your legs intensify. 

This one has you on your hands and knees, clutching the bed head so hard your nails dig into the wood. It’s undeniable now. This baby is coming whether you like it or not. And as the contraction reaches its peak, you scream. 

“Zu’té!” It pains you to cry out for his name and not your mates. Hearing your call—your permission to enter—he finally bursts through the door and rushes to your side. 

“I’m here, I’m here.” He’s out of breath and on edge.

“I think—oh god—I think the baby’s coming!” You cry out, swooping your hand between your legs to try and feel what’s happening. 

“Shit. Like now? Like right now?” Zu’té panics as he watches you, hands hovering around you, unsure of what to do. 

“I d-don’t know! I—I don’t—I want Ralak! Fuck, fuck. I want lak!” You cry out in sheer agony. “I want my mate. I-I need him!” 

“Y/n. Eywa.” Desperation is potent in his voice now. 

The fact that you’re calling out for his brother means the time has come and he feels like a fool to have let this get this far without stepping in. He swallows and takes a breath to calm down, just as your contraction ends and leaves you sobbing on your knees. 

“I’m getting the healer.” He says firmly, turning his heel to leave but you grab his wrist before he can walk away. 

“No! Don’t leave…Please don’t leave me alone.” You beg, fear glossing over your eyes until it spills onto your cheeks once more. He looks at you with furrowed brows, lamenting for you. Now he’s really conflicted, because this means…it’s him or no one. 

“Ah, shit. Shit. Uhm.” He rakes his fingers through his scalp, thinking about his next move. He’s seriously considering going regardless, able to see the situation for what it is.

“Please, Zu’té.” You plead weakly, slowly lowering yourself onto your behind and off your knees, leaning back into the bedhead. 

“Okay, okay.” He nods and you let go of his wrist, immediately using your hand to support your stomach. You let your eyes close, they’re swollen and heavy. “Uh–right, right.” 

For some reason he can’t stop repeating himself twice. Perhaps it’s his way of keeping grounded. He heads straight for the bucket of water and rag to bring it over to you. He dips the rag into the water, and wrings it out. You barely open your eyes at the sound of the bucket making contact with the floor, and see that he’s nearing you with a damp cloth and raised brows. He’s waiting for your go ahead. 

“Yes.” Your voice is hoarse and trembling. 

Zu’té begins to wipe away the sweat that’s dripping in your eyes, your forehead, neck and chest. Dipping the rag back into the water, he wrings it out once more and wipes down your shoulders and arms. You can’t help but sit there and close your eyes, allowing him to do it all, exhausted.

Feeling something press against your lips, you open your eyes in a daze. Zu’té holds a cup of water to your mouth, and you drink ardently, gasping for air and closing your eyes when it’s emptied. Sleep calls to you, taking you as you barely manage to mutter out a weak, “...thank you.” 

Zu’té calculates another five minutes before your next contraction, giving him enough time to fetch a fresh pail of water—something absolutely necessary for the birth. He leaves you sat up against the bedhead, rag on your forehead as you sleep. But not even three minutes go by before he hears your languid moan. 

Abandoning the bucket, he rushes back into the marui, finding you standing and holding onto the marui stilt with one hand as the other tugs at the strap of your top. Seeing you try to undress has him stopping in his tracks and turning his head to look away. 

“Y/n—”

“Ughhaa—” You grunt, untethering the knot of your top. Your body is trying to get comfortable for the birth of your son now, and these pieces of cloth feel suffocating. “Get out!”

With that, Zu’té turns and retreats back to the patio, hands on his head as he begins to make his plan. If he flew on his skimwing, he could make it to the village and back with a healer in about ten minutes. But would that be enough time? What if you didn’t have ten minutes? Your pained groan turns into a howl and it makes his ears twitch. 

By the sound of that, you might not even have five minutes. 

“Come on, baby brother. Don’t make me do this. Please. Don’t make me go back in there. Oh shit—I’m going to have to go back in there, aren’t I? Eywa. Eywa. Okay—It’s okay. I can do this. Childbirth. It’s just childbirth. Right? Right.” 

Zu’té tries to convince himself that he’s capable of this despite this not being what he signed up for. 

“Okay, Toto. Just do it. Go in there.” Zu’té sounds breathless as he speaks to himself, turning around to face the door. He hears your whimper and his jaw tightens. “Shit. Okay. Right.”

Just as he raises his hand to pull back the curtain, he hears a winded voice. 

“Brother.”

[nattikay]

it’s established that tsaheylu allows the participants to share physical sensations, so do you think that if Jake and Neytiri bonded while she was pregnant he’d be able to feel the baby move like she does?

[oneheda]

*ೃ༄ if avatar characters had twitter ?!

characters : lo’ak, neteyam, ao’nung, tsireya, kiri (if you squint), roxto

overall genre — mini tropes : fluff — jealous!neteyam, pining!ao’unung, trolling!lo’ak x tsireya, natureluvr!kiri, beefy!roxto,

warnings : some swearing

a/n : i laughed SM making this LMFAOAOOA. unhinged. didn’t expect this to go the way it did at first. this is my first fanfic (?)/content post abt avatar and was really inspired by modern au of avatar like tweets or hcs. but this doesn’t rlly take place in a modern au? i kept it in atwow/awa’atlu context. anyway, hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i did making it!!

╭── ⋅⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅⋅ ──╮

[writing-goblinnilmerg]

A Single Rockbeak | Neteyam x Metkayina!Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: Aonung believes that you should love him. Neteyam doesn’t agree

A/N: This was a request for @sunflower343 sorry it took so long to make!! As always thank you to my beloved @redezlyn for proofreading

Masterlist

Gif cred: @taminawang

“Good morning, Yawne,” murmured Neteyam gently kissing your temple and sitting down beside you. You were weaving baskets for the upcoming harvest, where fish would come aplenty and the Metkayina clan would have a feast to celebrate their good year. Additionally, this is where mates announced their love for each other to the clan, shared a rockbeak, a type of fish that could be found past the reef. Neteyam grabbed three pieces of a stiff fiber and tried to start weaving as well.

You both stayed like this a while, until you realized that Neteyam had no idea what he was doing. You quietly guided his hands to show him the proper technique to make baskets and not knots. He thanked you with another kiss to your temple.

This was how your relationship started; with you just enjoying each others company and not saying a word. Neteyam enjoyed the break from his duties as the eldest child and you were just shy. Kiri occasionally wandered over to talk to you, and Tuk would come if you were doing something particularly artsy. Today however Neteyam was alone.

Neteyam struck up a conversation with you, speaking in soft tones. This was how you liked your relationship: quiet and private. Of course that couldn’t last forever.

Aonung had his eye set on you from the moment you both turned of age. He was waiting to get to know you when the pesky Sullys arrived and ruined his whole plan. He didn’t know, however, about your confirmed relationship with Neteyam. From the outside, it simply looked like two friends or two flirts at the most. Today, of course, he saw you two together and figured that enough was enough.

Aonung swaggered over and sat down opposite you and Neteyam, whose conversation had grinded to a halt and were looking at him in bewilderment.

“Hello, y/n. Do you mind if I weave baskets here as well?” He asked. You didn’t have the heart to say no, so you nodded curtly. He grabbed a few strands of firm fiber smoothly worked it all together. Neteyam looked over at him in envy; he didn’t need your help.

“So, y/n, do you think that the harvest will be bountiful?” he started.

“It always is,” You replied, trying to keep talking to a minimum. Neteyam noticed your tail flick and your ears pin back.

“I hope to have you next to me at the feast. Perhaps we could share a rockbeak? ” proposed Aonung. This was the last straw for Neteyam.

“No thank you. She will me sitting next to me at the feast. We shall be the ones sharing a rockbeak. Good day.” He snapped.

Aonungs cheeks turned a dark hue as he left hurriedly, quite embarrassed. Neteyam sully expression softened as he turned his gaze to you.

“I hope that I haven’t overstepped, yawne,” he started. You lifted your hand to stop him and kissed him.

“It is alright. I like this protective side of you.” You mumbled against his lips; you could feel him smile in response.

***

Aonung was fuming. How dare he, Neteyam, a stranger to the clan, so shamelessly dismiss the son of the Olo’eyktan! Well, he will show you exactly what he thinks; that pesky Neteyam won’t be around to save you.

***

You leaned into Neteyam as your clan celebrated a bountiful fish harvest. A large bonfire burned in the middle of your village, and you watched as your fellow Metkayina danced joyously. He kissed the top of your head and pulled you to dance as well.

Tuk was running around with some friends around her age, playing with the sparks that were coming off the fire. Lo’ak had snuck off with Tsireya about an hour ago and Kiri was engaged in a deep conversation with Ronal about how this harvest affected local fish population. Jake and Neytiri swayed slowly with each other a little ways away from the fire.

The moon has risen high into the sky with Neytiri broke apart from Jake and called Neteyam to her. She requested that he carry his little sister, Tuk, to bed, as she had fallen asleep on a mound of sand. He accepted, albeit reluctantly, and carefully slung her on his back and walked to his family’s marui.

You decided to wait until Neteyam came back to the feast, and set about cleaning up certain seaweed dishes that were empty; less work for you later! You had gathered them all and were making your way to the food storage marui when something rammed into you, causing you to fall. The dishes tumbled to the floor.

“Now will you talk to me? Now that Neteyam isn’t here anymore?” A figure hovered over you; the moon and stars behind him darkened his face. His voice sounded familiar.

Without warning, the figure leaned it close, his nose almost touching yours.

Aonung.

His tail wrapped around your leg and his muscular arms held you down as he examined your scared face. He was so close that you could see the teal ring in his aqua eyes.

You knew that you couldn’t scream; the whoops and cheers from the bonfire were too loud, so the only thing that screaming would do was possibly anger Aonung.

***

Meanwhile, Neteyam swiftly ran back to the feast, eager to get back to you. You weren’t where you had parted ways. He walked around the bonfire twice, checking every face for your distinct features. Finally, Neytiri informed him that you were cleaning up certain areas and were probably on the path leading to the marui. Neteyam debated staying to wait for you but decided that he wanted to see you as soon as possible.

***

You were trying to force yourself deeper into the sand to avoid Aonungs jeering face when you heard loud footsteps thumping closer and closer. Aonung seemed too absorbed in evaluating you to notice any outside noises.

Aonung closed his eyes and leaned in slowly. His lips were a hair’s breadth away when he abruptly got shoved off of you. You heard a familiar hiss and a presence that you knew intimately jumped over you, crouching protectively.

Unbeknownst to him, Neteyam’s pose was identical to his mother’s some 16 years previously, when his father was attacked by Tsu’tey.

“Never come close to her again,” snarled Neteyam, “or I will slash you to pieces and feed you to the ilus.” You slowly got up and grabbed Neteyam’s hand, gently easing him up and away from Aonung, whose wide eyes conveyed a primal fear. Neteyam let you lead him away, but didn’t take his eyes off Aonung until you had gotten back to the feast.

You tried to enjoy the rest of your night with Neteyam joined at your hip. He didn’t leave you alone, wanting to reassure you and ensure that Aonung wouldn’t come back. He kept watch and was focused and attentive until you finally managed him to coax him to your marui.

“Thank you, Nete,” you murmured into Neteyam chest as you ran your hand up and down his back. He stroked your hair and hummed in response.

Divider cred: @cafekitsune