pairings: aged up neteyam x mangkwan female reader
notes: obsessed neteyam, gradual dark neteyam, reader is varang’s mean younger sister, manipulation, angst/comfort, miscommunication trope, forbidden lovers, neteyam is a literal yearner, reader is realistic, love at first sight for neteyam, selective amnesia, reader is disgusted by neteyam’s demon blood, betrayal, smut & suggestive themes, p in v sex, themes of noncon & dubcon, breeding, spitting, tummy bulge, big dick neteyam.
word count: 34.5k (i literally have no brain juice anymore)
prompt: from the moment you had your blade pressed against his neck, all he could think of was how beautiful you are. he does not care if you’re a mangkwan and he does not care if you are disgusted by him, you are what he wants even if he has to go to extreme lengths to get you.
The dense canopy of Pandora's forest filtered the midday sun into dappled shafts of light casting shifting patterns on the undergrowth as Neteyam soared above on his ikran. His form honed by years of vigilant scouting, blended seamlessly with the creature's sleek blue hide, his golden eyes scanning the perimeters of Omatikaya territory with unwavering focus. The wind whipped through his braided hair carrying the earthy scent of moss and distant rain but today, an unfamiliar tension hummed in the air like Eywa herself was holding her breath.
A flicker of movement below caught his sharp gaze. A cluster of Na'vi figures darting through the underbrush, their movements predatory and coordinated. He signaled his ikran with a subtle shift of his thighs and the beast banked sharply, descending in a controlled spiral toward a concealed ledge. Wings folded with a soft rustle as he dismounted, his bare feet silent on the mossy ground. Crouching behind a thick fern and bow already in hand, Neteyam peered through the leaves, his heart steady but alert.
What he witnessed chilled him.
A raiding party from the Mangkwan clan of fierce warriors painted in ritualistic ash, their bodies smeared with the dark residue of volcanic soil that marked their savage tradition. They had ambushed a small group of Olangi travelers. The Olangi clan, a peaceful foragers from a neighboring grove, were outnumbered and overwhelmed, their pleas echoing faintly through the trees. The Mangkwans moved with brutal efficiency, spears glinting as they subdued their prey but it was the figure at the center that seized Neteyam's breath.
You.
Leading the raid with an air of unchallenged authority, your form cut an intoxicating silhouette against the chaos. Ash coated your skin like a second hide, obscuring the true hue beneath in swirling patterns that accentuated the sharp angles of your jaw. Even veiled in grime, your beauty pierced through with full lips curved in a predatory smile and eyes like smoldering embers, scanning the fray with calculated glee. Your body was clad in minimal hides, a beaded top that strained against the soft perky swell of your breasts, rising and falling with each commanding breath, and a loincloth that hugged the firm curve of your hips revealing toned legs braced for action.
Neteyam found himself entranced, curiosity gnawing at him. What lay under that ash? Smooth azure skin perhaps, glowing with the vitality of your clan or something rarer, more alluring?
But beauty masked cruelty.
He watched as you circled a kneeling Olangi male, his kuru held taut by one of your warriors.
The victim's pleas tumbled out in desperate sobs. "Please we mean no harm. Eywa, mercy!"
Your laughter rang out, mean and cutting, a sharp trill that sliced through the air like a blade. "Your goddess has no dominion here."
It wasn't joyous, it was mocking and laced with sadistic delight as you raised your obsidian knife, the edge catching the light. The Mangkwans deferred to you utterly, their eyes on you as if you were their spiritual guide yet Neteyam knew you weren’t the clan’s leader.
During a prior scouting run with his father, Jake had pointed out Varang, the true Tsahìk of the Mangkwans. Tall and imposing with an aura of unyielding command. That wasn't you. So who were you? Varang's kin perhaps her younger sister, wielding influence through blood ties? Or a favored enforcer, a prized weapon in her arsenal? The mystery only deepened his fixation, his gaze lingering on the way your ash-streaked arms flexed, muscles coiling like vines ready to strike.
The Olangi's kuru dangled vulnerably, the warrior presenting it for your ritual severing. A fate worse than death was severing one's bond with Eywa. Neteyam's jaw tightened with a surge of protectiveness igniting in his chest and he couldn't stand by. Nocking an arrow with fluid precision, he drew back the bowstring with the familiar creak grounding him. His aim was true, released with a whisper, the shaft flew straight and embedding in the hand of the Mangkwan holding the kuru. The warrior yelped dropping the kuru as blood welled while the Olangi collapsed in shock.
You hissed sharply in a venomous sound that reverberated through the trees, your head snapping toward the underbrush where the arrow had originated. Your ember eyes narrowed, piercing the foliage as if you could will the shadows to part. Though the leaves concealed him, your stare felt like it locked onto his golden ones, a challenge unspoken.
Neteyam held his breath, pulse thundering in his ears.
"How amusing." You chuckled lowly, the sound dripping with dark amusement with the thrill of the hunt sparking in your veins, your lips twisting into a smirk that revealed sharp canines.
Shifting your attention, you glanced at the injured warrior clutching his hand with pain etching his features.
"Tend to that." You dismissed him with a wave of your hand, voice cool and authoritative boredom masking your intrigue.
No time for weakness in my ranks.
Grinning to yourself with a secretive curve of your mouth that hinted at games yet to play, you barked orders to your group. "Retreat! Take what we came for."
The Mangkwans obeyed instantly, their weapon’s clubs thudding against Olangi skulls to knock them unconscious. Greedy hands snatching woven satchels of herbs, glowing crystals, and carved totems as prizes of the raid. They melted into the forest like smoke but you lingered a moment, casting one final lingering look toward Neteyam's hiding spot. Your smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with promise of a predator sensing prey nearby before you turned, your form vanishing into the green.
Neteyam exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a heartbeat as his muscles uncoiled with relief washing over him. Slumping against the fern, he berated his caution for being too close and too reckless. The raid's echoes faded leaving only the rustle of leaves.
Then cold steel kissed his throat.
His golden eyes flew open, meeting yours up close. Sadistic glee swirling in their depths like storm clouds over the sea. You had circled silently, a shadow among shadows, your blade now pressed under his chin, tilting his head back against the earth. The ash on your face cracked slightly with your predatory smile, revealing glimpses of smoother skin beneath that was flushed with exertion.
The bow and arrows lay discarded beside him, the telltale fletching matching the one that embedded in your warrior's hand.
"Nice shot, forest boy." You purred, voice laced with mocking admiration and excitement bubbling beneath the snarl, your breath warm against his skin. "Had a good time interrupting my fun?"
He didn't answer, lips pressed into a thin line, inwardly cursing his lapse. How had you slipped past? His body tensed beneath you but he held still and assessing.
You tsked, a sharp disappointed sound, your snarl twisting your features as you surged forward. With effortless strength, you pinned him to the ground. Your knee digging into his abdomen, the blade you held angling deeper. Its tip pricking his flesh just enough to draw a thin bead of blood. The metallic tang mingled with the forest's humidity, your weight settling over him dominantly, your thighs clamping his waist in a vise of muscle and heat.
From this vantage, you were breathtaking.
The ash smeared across your cheeks like war paint but the proximity unveiled nuances. The delicate slope of your nose, the way your braids framed your face and swaying with each controlled breath. Your body pressed against his firm one, soft perky breasts heaving through the scant hide while your thighs hugged him possessively, the firm ridges of your muscle flexing. The loincloth you wore rode up slightly in the struggle, teasing the shadowed juncture between your legs in a forbidden glimpse that stirred something primal in him.
Neteyam's gaze betrayed him, trailing downward despite the danger. Over the generous curve of your breasts, your nipples faintly outlined against the fabric from the adrenaline rush then to the powerful expanse of your thighs gripping him like you owned him already.
You hissed again, low and threatening as irritation flared hot in your being, the sound vibrating through your chest as you caught his wandering eyes. Leaning in closer with your blade steady, your face hovered inches from his. "I'll cut your throat for that."
He stared up at you dazed, the world narrowing to the beauty before him. The cruel spark in your eyes, the subtle sheen of sweat tracing a path down your neck.
Words escaped him before he could cage them, his voice rough with unintended awe. "You're beautiful."
Your eyes widened fractionally, the sadistic gleam flickering with surprise as an unwelcome heat coiled low despite yourself but you didn't falter. The blade nicked deeper against his skin, a warning as you ground your hips down experimentally, testing his resolve.
"Flattery won't save you, skxawng." You snarled though your voice held a husky edge, your curiosity warring with the cruelty you held.
The pressure of your body against his sent unwelcome sparks through both of you. His cock twitching involuntarily beneath the confines of his own coverings, your breath hitching as you felt it.
Neteyam's hands, bound by instinct not to fight yet, flexed at his sides, his golden eyes locked on yours now and unflinching. The forest seemed to hold its breath around you, the distant calls of ikran fading into irrelevance. He could smell the ash on you mingled with the wild scent of your skin, it was earthy and intoxicating.
"Why do they follow you like that?" He asked, voice steady despite the blade, deflecting while his mind raced.
Attraction bloomed dark and insistent in him, a shadow creeping over his usual honor. You weren't just beautiful, you were a storm and he found himself drawn to the eye.
You laughed then in a mean throaty sound that vibrated against him, amusement laced with dark promise shrouding it as you tilted your head to study him like prey. "Maybe you're not as foolish as you look."
Your free hand trailed down his chest, nails scraping lightly over his toned abdomen feeling the ridges of his muscle tense. The touch was teasing and cruel, testing boundaries that doesn’t seem to exist anymore. Your breasts brushed his chest with the movement softly and enticingly, the ash transferring in faint streaks to his skin.
He swallowed hard, your blade's edge a razor reminder but his body betrayed him as his hips shifted subtly upward seeking more friction from you.
"Let me go." He murmured, though it lacked conviction as desire thread through the plea. His eyes darkening as they traced the curve of your hip and the way your loincloth shifted hinting at the heat of your cunt beneath.
"And miss this?" You countered, voice dripping with sadistic playfulness as the thrill of power surged, pressing the blade just enough to draw another drop of blood from him.
But your eyes, those ember depths, held his. A challenge, an invitation to the darkness you both sensed brewing. The raid's adrenaline still pumped through your veins, mingling with this unexpected tension, your thighs tightening around him as if to claim victory.
Neteyam's breath came ragged now, the softness of your form contrasting the hardness of your intent, igniting a fire he hadn't anticipated. In that moment amidst the ash and threat, the future Olo'eyktan's resolve cracked with a darker hunger awakening for the woman who could lead with cruelty and beauty in equal measure. The forest watched as a silent witness to the spark that could and would inevitably consume you both.
"Who are you?" He repeated, his voice a low rumble with frustration edged in fascination, refusing to yield even as the steel bit into his skin. "Why do they follow you?"
You tilted your head slowly, braids swaying like dark serpents against your ash-smeared shoulders, your expression an enigma. Your eyes were narrowed to slits, unreadable as the depths of a hidden cenote. The motion caused your torso to shift, the beaded strands of your top grazing his chest once again with a whisper of friction, your soft curves molding briefly against the hard planes of his warrior's build.
After a deliberate pause, you leaned in closer, lips parting to reveal the edge of your teeth.
"I am Varang's younger sister." You murmured, voice smooth as polished obsidian and a hint of pride sharpening the words. "Her Tsakarem."
The revelation hung between you like a taut bowstring as Neteyam's mind raced.
Tsakarem, the heir apparent, groomed to ascend if fate claimed Varang. High standing indeed, woven into the spiritual fabric of the Mangkwan with threads of power and ritual. Your authority made sense now, the way your warriors had deferred, their eyes alight with reverence. But it also sparked unwelcome questions in him. Were you already mated? Bound in tsaheylu to some brutal consort, your being entwined with another?
A surge of fury clawed at his chest but he shoved it down, his jaw clenching as he focused on the way your thighs still gripped his sides, their toned length flexing with subtle control. Your eyes flicked to his face catching the flicker of turmoil and you pressed the knife deeper, the edge singing against his flesh as the thrill of dominance coursed through you.
"What clan are you from?" You demanded, your breath ghosting over his cheek, warm and laced with the metallic tang of anticipation.
"Omatikaya." He answered, voice steady despite the sting, his gaze never leaving yours, golden depths locking with ember ones.
You threw your head back and laughed, the sound rich and mocking as it echoed through the undergrowth.
"Oh, the clan of that tawtute turned Na'vi?" You sneered lowering your face again, your lips curling in contempt. "The clan of Toruk Makto?"
"He's my father." Neteyam replied with a quiet defiance threading his tone, his pride warring with the vulnerability of your proximity as his hands twitching at his sides resisting the urge to reach up and trace the curve of your jaw.
Your grin widened, sharp and predatory, teeth flashing as you savored the revelation, a spark of malicious delight igniting. The expression transformed your features, your cheekbones sharpening and your full lips stretching over a sadistic curve making you appear even more alluring in your cruelty.
"Ah, so you're a filthy sky demon then." You hissed, voice dripping with revulsion, loathing twisting like a vine in your gut at his unpure lineage. "How disgusting."
His heart clenched painfully at the look in your eyes.
Pure unfiltered disgust as if he were tainted by his human heritage, as if he’s unworthy of the ground you straddled. It stung deeper than the blade, a rejection that fueled the shadows creeping into his soul. Yet even as pain lanced through him, he couldn't tear his gaze from the line of your neck and the way sweat beaded along your throat tracing a path down to the valley between your heaving chest.
"What is your name?" You pressed, the knife steady while your free hand now rested on his shoulder, nails digging in just enough to anchor him as curiosity sharpened your focus amid the hate.
"Neteyam." He said simply, the word escaping like a confession, resignation mingling with an undercurrent of longing.
You laughed again, meaner this time with a throaty bark that vibrated through your core.
"Neteyam, the filthy sky demon." You mocked, rolling the name on your tongue like a curse. "My sister would be pleased that I bring the kuru of Toruk Makto's son before her."
Your eyes gleamed with dark promise, imagining the trophy of his kuru severed as a symbol of Mangkwan supremacy dangling in your marui.
Panic flickered in Neteyam's chest but it warred with an unwillingness to harm you. If he fought back now, twisting free and overpowering you, his hands might mar that flawless skin and leave bruises on your arms or that captivating face. Eywa he wished for a disturbance, anything to shatter this moment without violence for you. As if the Great Mother heard his silent plea, the air stirred with the powerful beat of wings slicing through the canopy followed by urgent voices calling his name echoing from above.
"Neteyam! Where are you?" Lo'ak's shout cut through the trees laced with worry while Jake's deeper timbre joined in, commanding and steady.
Relief nearly escaped him in a breath but he held it as he watched your reaction.
You heard it too. The approaching ikran and the unmistakable cadence of Omatikaya warriors. A snarl ripped from your throat, low and feral as frustration boiled over like lava, your beautiful features twisting into a mask of fury.
"Interrupt me again next time." You growled, leaning down until your lips nearly brushed his ear, voice a venomous whisper with rage simmering beneath the threat. "And I'll have your kuru hanging from my marui."
With a fluid motion, you dismounted him, your thighs releasing their grip leaving a ghost of warmth where they'd clamped. Your body uncoiled, ash flaking from your limbs as you rose, your knife still clutched in your fist. You shot him one last glare, hateful and disgusted, eyes raking over him as if committing his form to memory for future vengeance. Then without another word you melted into the foliage, your form vanishing into the green shadows with the silent prowess of a seasoned hunter.
Neteyam lay there for a moment staring at the canopy above, the imprint of your weight lingering on his hips like a brand. He missed it already, the press of your curves and the dangerous allure of your scent. A low groan escaped him as he shifted, his arousal evident in the insistent throb beneath his loincloth, a betrayal of his body's response to your dominance.
Shaking his head to clear the haze, he sat up slowly, snatching his bow and arrows to drape across his lap to conceal the evidence of his desire.
"Bro, are you okay?" Lo'ak's voice broke the silence first, crashing through the underbrush with his usual reckless energy.
He skidded to a halt beside Neteyam, his tail flicking in concern while Jake approached more methodically. His gaze sweeping over the unconscious Olangi people sprawled nearby, their forms battered and kurus mercifully intact.
"Yeah." Neteyam replied curtly, forcing composure into his tone as he adjusted his position before rising to his feet with deliberate slowness.
Jake turned to them, his broad frame casting a long shadow, eyes sharp with paternal scrutiny.
"What happened here?" He asked, voice gravelly and worry etching lines around his eyes.
"Mangkwans raided the Olangi." Neteyam explained slinging his bow over his shoulder, the wood cool against his heated skin. "They were about to cut off their kurus. I intervened from the brush, shot an arrow to stop it."
He kept the details sparse, omitting the blade at his throat and the intoxicating weight of you atop him.
Jake tensed visibly, muscles coiling under his blue skin like a predator sensing threat. "Who was leading the raid? Varang?"
Neteyam's mind flashed to your face, those ember eyes and the cruel tilt of your lips, the ash-veiled beauty that haunted him already.
"No." He said, voice even even with the shadow of obsession stirring. "It's her sister. The Tsakarem."
Jake and Lo'ak whipped their heads toward him in unison, surprise widening their expressions.
"You saw her?" Lo'ak blurted, brows shooting up with intrigue sparking in his mischievous gaze.
Neteyam nodded once, curt and evasive.
He'd done far more than see you. He felt you, he breathed you but those truths stayed buried, coiling dark in his chest like a secret vow.
"Let's move." Jake commanded, already kneeling to check on the nearest Olangi, his hands gentle as he assessed wounds. "We need to help them. Bring them back to Omatikaya."
Neteyam inclined his head in agreement but as they gathered the dazed travelers by supporting limp arms and murmuring reassurances, his gaze drifted to the spot where you'd vanished. The undergrowth seemed to whisper your being, a siren call pulling at the edges of his honor. The future Olo'eyktan felt the first true fracture in his resolve, a darkness blooming not from duty but from the cruel beauty who'd marked him without a touch.
As ikran cries heralded their departure, he mounted his own bond-beast last, the wind carrying him homeward yet his thoughts lingered in the ash-scented wilds and chasing the ghost of your snarl.
Meanwhile, you sprinted through the tangled roots and bioluminescent vines, heart pounding with a mix of fury and something sharper, more unsettling. The forest blurred around you, the towering trees with bark etched like ancient scars turned into the familiar scorched ones but your mind replayed the encounter.
Those golden eyes staring up at you unafraid, calling you beautiful amid the threat. Disgusting sky demon, you reminded yourself, snarling under your breath as revulsion clashed with an unwelcome curiosity for the Omatikaya warrior.
Your legs pumped with relentless energy, thighs burning from the raid and the brief wrestle, the loincloth chafing against your sweat-slicked skin. Ash flaked from your arms as you vaulted a fallen log and landing with cat-like poise, your breaths coming in sharp bursts that made your chest ache.
Why had I let him live?
The question gnawed at you even as your marui came into view. Woven from volcanic fibers, perched on stilts over a steaming pool. Warriors milled about who were tending stolen goods such as the shimmering crystals piled in nets and the herbs bundled for Varang's rituals. You slowed, straightening your top where beads had shifted, exposing a sliver of your midriff, the soft undercurve of your breasts rising with each calming inhale.
Your sister's voice called from within, authoritative and probing but you waved it off, slipping inside to wash the encounter away.
Water from a nearby basin splashed over your face, rinsing rivulets of ash to reveal the true azure of your skin which was freckled with faint glowing spots that danced like stars under the dim light. You stared at your reflection in the rippling surface, cheekbones flushed from exertion, lips still curved in residual disdain, and eyes smoldering with unresolved fire.
Neteyam.
The name echoed, stirring a heat you crushed down. He was the enemy, a filthy intruder on your domain. Yet as you traced a finger along the scar on your palm from past battles, you couldn't shake the memory of his body beneath yours that’s stirring instincts you hadn't anticipated.
Varang entered then, her taller frame filling the entrance as her eyes narrowed at your disheveled state.
"Little tsmuke, the raid—success?" She asked, voice like grinding stone with concern veiled in command.
You met her gaze as you forced a smirk. "More than. We took what we needed."
Omitting the details, the blade, the almost-kill.
She nodded satisfied but you turned away, mind already plotting the next border push. Deep down though, a thread of anticipation wove through your thoughts.
Would those golden eyes seek you again?
The Tsakarem of Mangkwan didn't yield to weakness but this sky demon had cracked something open in you, a fissure where darkness and desire might mingle unchecked.
The air in the Tsahik's marui hung heavy with the scent of healing herbs, bitter yarrow and soothing aloe mingling in the steam rising from clay bowls.
Neteyam sat rigidly on a woven mat, his broad shoulders tense beneath the dim glow of suspended lanterns that cast flickering shadows across the curved walls of pandora vines. The shallow nick on his neck throbbed faintly, a reminder of your blade's kiss yet it was nothing compared to the deeper ache gnawing at his core.
His grandmother Mo'at, the revered Tsahik, was occupied elsewhere in the communal space, her hands deftly tending to the battered Olangi refugees who huddled in clusters, their faces dimmed by exhaustion and pain. Murmurs of gratitude and soft chants filled the air as she moved among them as a pillar of calm authority.
Instead, it was Alayni who attended to him, the young healer-in-training whose gentle presence had long been a fixture in his life.
She knelt before him, her slender fingers working with practiced care as she dabbed a cool poultice onto his wound. Alayni was pretty in a soft unassuming way, her eyes a warm amber that often darted shyly from beneath long lashes. Her braids were neatly bound with feathers, signifying her devotion to the healing arts and her movements were fluid and almost reverent as she applied the salve.
She had always been kind to him.
Slipping morsels of fresh fruit into his training satchel when he pushed himself too hard under the midday sun or lingering after lessons to ask about his day with a blush coloring her cheeks. His parents adored her, Neytiri saw in her the quiet strength of a future Tsahik while Jake appreciated her steadiness, a counterbalance to the chaos of their family. She was one of the potential mates they urged him to consider, especially now with his ascension to becoming Olo'eyktan looming in just a year.
Neteyam had entertained the idea once.
Alayni would make a good mate. She was loyal and nurturing, her shyness a balm to his burdens. She had expressed her interest subtly but persistently. A lingering touch during healings and invitations to walk the glowing paths at dusk, her voice soft with hope trembling in every syllable as she suggested they share a meal by the river. He had even agreed a few times out of duty, their conversations polite but devoid of the spark that now eluded him entirely.
But that was before you. Before the raid, before your ash-streaked form had pinned him down, your eyes burning with contempt that only fueled the fire in his blood.
Alayni was pretty, yes, but she paled against the vision of you. Your fierce beauty a storm to her gentle breeze, your cruelty a magnet to his unraveling restraint. He wanted you with a ferocity that bordered on madness, even after mere moments in your presence. He craved you despite the disgust twisting your lips when you spat "filthy sky demon," he craved you despite the enmity of your clans carving chasms between you. You were the enemy, a Mangkwan Tsakarem destined to lead raids that spilled Omatikaya blood, yet the thought of your thighs straddling him and your blade at his throat consumed him like a fever.
It was absurd, this pull. A betrayal of everything he stood for as the future leader but he couldn't deny it. His heart raced at the memory of your scent and his body stirred unbidden with a low heat pooling in his core.
As Alayni's fingers brushed the edge of the wound, her touch feather-light and caring, she lifted her gaze to meet his. Her amber eyes searched his golden ones, wide with unspoken affection and a flicker of longing softening her features. But Neteyam kept his stare fixed on the far wall where woven tapestries depicted Eywa's embrace, his jaw set in quiet detachment.
His mind wandered relentlessly to you.
The curve of your hips as you dismounted, the snarl that bared your teeth, and the way your laughter had vibrated through him like a challenge. How could he see you again? Touch you? The forest was vast and the borders were tense but he would find a way. He would scout the edges, risk the shadows, anything to glimpse that fire once more.
"There." Alayni murmured finally, tying off a thin strip of leaf bandage with delicate precision as satisfaction warmed her voice. Her hand lingered, sliding down to caress his arm in a gesture of concern, her palm warm against the corded muscle of his bicep. "Are you alright, Neteyam? That cut... it could have been worse."
Her fingers traced a subtle path, innocent yet hopeful, her breath catching slightly as she awaited his response. In her mind, visions danced. In a year when Jake stepped down, she could be at his side, as Tsahik to his Olo'eyktan, their kurus entwining in tsaheylu under the Tree of Souls. The thought made her pulse quicken with a giddy flutter in her chest.
Neteyam nodded curtly, his voice flat and dismissive with impatience edging his tone as he rose to his feet making the mat rustle beneath him. "I'm fine. Thank you, Alayni."
He didn't meet her eyes, already turning toward the entrance, the weight of his bow slung across his back as a familiar anchor.
"Neteyam." She called out softly standing as well, her form silhouetted against the herbal steam, disappointment tinged with persistence. "Do you want to take a walk later? The glowworms by the falls are blooming. I thought... we could talk."
Her hands clasped together twisting nervously, the beads on her wrists clinking like a plea.
He paused at the flap of the marui, the humid air of the village filtering in and carrying the distant calls of ikran. His mother would beam if he accepted, she would see it as progress toward the merging they craved. But today the will eluded him, drowned out by the echo of your mocking laugh.
"I have something to do." He replied over his shoulder, the words clipped with feign regret buried under his resolve.
"Oh." She echoed faintly, the syllable hanging like a wilted petal, a quiet hurt settling in her posture as she watched him go.
Neteyam stepped into the bustling heart of the Omatikaya village, the high trees weaving a cathedral of leaves overhead yet his thoughts plotted a solitary path. He would scout the borders at dawn and venture closer to Mangkwan lands than wisdom allowed. Risk be damned, he needed to see you again, to unravel the enigma that had ensnared him.
The next day dawned with a veil of mist clinging to the forest floor, the air crisp and alive with the symphony of awakening life.
Neteyam mounted his ikran early, the creature's leathery wings cutting through the canopy as they soared toward the contested fringes. His heart thudded with anticipation, his golden eyes scanning the terrain below from the rivers snaking like veins to the clusters of ferns hiding potential threats.
Hours passed in fruitless search. There were no raiding parties and no ash-painted warriors, only the indifferent pulse of Eywa's domain. Disappointment settled heavy in his chest in a dull ache as he urged his ikran toward home, the wind whipping his braids like accusations of folly.
Just as resignation crept in, a flash of color caught his eye. A solitary figure by the river's bend, nestled in a sun-dappled clearing. His breath hitched, deep in his gut he knew it was you.
With a sharp command, he guided the ikran into a steep dive, landing silently in a thicket nearby as the beast's talons sank into moss without a sound. Dismounting swiftly, Neteyam crept forward, his warrior's grace muting his steps as excitement pounded in his veins like war drums. The underbrush parted under his careful hands, leaves whispering secrets as he approached with his heart racing in a mix of thrill and trepidation.
There you were, reclining on a bed of soft moss beside the lazily flowing river with the water's gentle murmur as a lullaby. Clearly sleep had claimed you with your body lax in repose, unguarded in a way that stole the air from his lungs.
For the first time, your face was bare, no war paint or ash to veil your features, washed clean by the river's touch. Your true azure skin gleamed under the filtered sunlight, smooth and unmarred, dotted with subtle bioluminescent freckles that shimmered like scattered stars across your high cheekbones and the bridge of your nose. Your lips, full and slightly parted, curved in the faintest hint of relaxation, a stark contrast to the snarls he remembered. Long lashes fanned against your lids, framing eyes hidden now but etched in his memory as embers of defiance. Strands of your dark hair, freed from the raid's bindings, cascaded over the moss like midnight rivers and framing the arch of your neck.
You were breathtaking, vulnerability wrapping around your fierce beauty like a fragile shroud. Out here alone with only the river as sentinel, you seemed almost ethereal. Chest rising and falling in slow even rhythms, the soft swell of your breasts straining gently against the thin weave of your top with each breath. No armor, no blade in hand, just you exposed to the world, exposed to him. Anyone could stumble upon you like this. A hunter, a rival, a man like him and do... something.
The thought sent fury through Neteyam, his gaze lingering with possession and hunger. His eyes trailed downward, drinking in the rest of you with unrestrained fervor.
Your arms were folded loosely beneath your head, elbows bent revealing the toned length of your limbs, muscles subtly defined from years of wielding weapons and commanding warriors. The curve of your waist dipped invitingly where your top rode up slightly exposing a sliver of taut midriff, the skin there flawless and warm-toned as if inviting touch. Your legs stretched out languidly, one knee bent in sleep, the other straight showcasing the powerful thighs that had pinned him so effectively and was now relaxed, their azure expanse glowing faintly in the light. The loincloth rode high on your hips, simple yet accentuating the flare of your form with the fabric clinging to the subtle contours beneath.
Every inch of you spoke of strength wrapped in allure like a siren in repose and Neteyam's breath grew shallow. His body responding with a surge of heat, fists clenching at his sides to restrain the urge to close the distance.
You stirred faintly in your slumber with a soft sigh escaping your lips as a breeze rustled the leaves overhead but your eyes remained closed and lost in dreams unknown.
Neteyam lowered himself silently onto the moss beside you, the soft earth yielding under his weight like a conspirator in his forbidden vigil. The river's gentle current whispered nearby, a serene counterpoint to the storm raging within him.
His golden eyes, sharp and unyielding, fixed first on the rise and fall of your chest then drifted upward to your face. His gaze lingered on those parted lips which was plush and inviting, a stark vulnerability amid your warrior's form. They begged to be claimed and the thought sent a shiver through his frame making his tail flick restlessly behind him.
Lower still, his eyes traced the delicate beaded necklace top that clung to your torso. The strands of iridescent woven fibers draping just enough to shield the peaks of your breasts from full view. Yet the swell of them was evident, they were firm and rounded as they rise with each breath in a rhythm that mesmerized him. The azure curves peeking teasingly at the edges where the beads shifted. They were soft yet perky, a contradiction to the ferocity he knew you wielded and he imagined their weight in his palms, imagined the warmth and plushness yielding under his touch.
Further down, the simple loincloth of supple hide and vines rested high on your hips as it concealed the most intimate sanctum of your body, the place he yearned to uncover as selfish curiosity burned in him.
What secrets lay beneath that barrier?
The smooth contours of your mound perhaps flushed with the same azure hue, the delicate folds he fantasized would glisten with your essence. He wondered at the scent. Maybe it would be musky and wild like the forest after rain mingled with your unique fire and the taste? Maybe it would be sweet and tangy on his tongue, a forbidden nectar that would drive him to madness. His breath hitched, a low heat coiling in his abdomen as he shifted closer, the air between you thickening with unspoken tension.
Unable to resist any longer, Neteyam extended a hand, his callused fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that belied the darkness creeping into his soul. Your skin was impossibly soft there, like the finest moss under moonlight, and as he caressed the curve of your face, you nuzzled into his palm instinctively with a sleepy murmur escaping your lips.
The simple act undid him, it was a glimpse of innocence beneath your cruel exterior. He grinned, fangs peeking through his lips, a mix of affection and hunger lighting his features as he marveled at how cute you were in this moment when you’re stripped of your armor and snarls. This woman, who had threatened his life with such venom, now sought comfort in his touch without knowing it.
Biting his lower lip to stifle the growl building in his throat, Neteyam leaned down with his braids falling forward like dark curtains. He had to taste you just once, to etch this reality into his being. His lips pressed softly against yours in a tentative peck and the contact was electric. Your mouth yielding like ripe fruit, warm and plush that sent a jolt straight to his core.
And yet it wasn't enough, the hunger gnawed deeper within him.
Emboldened, he traced his tongue along the seam of your bottom lip lewdly and deliberately, savoring the faint saltiness before parting your lips further and sliding inside. He explored with unrestrained greed with his tongue curling against yours, sucking gently as a groan threatened to escape him from the pleasure rumbling low in his chest. The intimacy was intoxicating as if you were already mates bound in tsaheylu, your flavors mingling in a dance that blurred the lines of enemy and desire.
You stirred beneath him, a haze of sleep fracturing as awareness flooded in. Your eyelids fluttered open, eyes widening in shock at the invasion.
There he was, the Omatikaya warrior from the raid, Neteyam.
His face inches from yours, his tongue delving deep into your mouth with shameless possession. The wet heat of him and the bold suction on your tongue, it was an assault wrapped in seduction, his breath hot against your skin. Disbelief warred with fury as you registered the intimacy, your body tensing like a coiled spring. Your hands flew up to shove at his chest, your palms pressing against the firm planes of his pectorals feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath.
But Neteyam only groaned aloud now that you were awake, a sound of raw need vibrating against your lips. His large frame pinning you gently but firmly as he deepened the kiss. His mouth claimed yours harder, his tongue thrusting to muffle your rising protests as he swallowed your gasps in a fierce tangle that left you breathless. The world narrowed to the slick slide of him, the scrape of his fangs against your inner lip, and the way his body heat seeped into yours like an unwanted brand.
Finally he pulled back, a glistening thread of saliva bridging your lips that shimmered in the dappled light. He grinned down at you, eyes dark with triumph and yearning etched in the curve of his mouth.
"I've been searching for you." He murmured, voice husky and low with intensity lacing every word as if confessing a sacred vow.
Rage ignited in you like dry tinder to flame. With a feral snarl that bared your sharp teeth and venom dripping from the sound, you lashed out with your leg snapping up to kick him squarely in the ribs. The impact sent him reeling sideways with a grunt escaping him as he rolled onto the moss. Your hands scrambled to your side, fingers closing around the hilt of your dagger before yanking it free in a blur of motion. You surged to your feet, blade glinting as you loomed over him. Your form coiled for violence and breasts heaving with each furious breath that strained against the beaded top you wore much to his delight.
"You filthy demon." You hissed, voice laced with disgust and hatred sharpening your tone like your weapon, the dagger you held poised at his throat. "How dare you do that to me? Touch me like some lowly beast in heat?"
Your free hand wiped at your mouth as if to erase the lingering taste of him but the flush creeping up your neck betrayed a flicker of something else. Intrigue at the boldness of his claim and the way his words hung in the air like a challenge.
Neteyam didn't flinch even as the tip of your blade nicked his skin anew, a thin bead of blood welling up. He pushed himself up on one elbow, his muscular torso flexing under the thin straps of his chest covering as his golden eyes locked on yours with unyielding fervor.
"I can't stop thinking about you." He confessed, the words tumbling out raw and unfiltered with desperation underscoring his plea. "From the moment you pinned me down, your fire... it haunts me. Tell me your name. Let me know who has captured me so completely."
His gaze roamed your form again, not with shame but with open yearning. Tracing the wild tangle of your hair framing your furious expression, the taut lines of your abdomen glistening with a sheen of river mist, and the powerful stance of your legs planted wide in defiance.
Disgust roiled in your gut, hot and acrid, at this Omatikaya intruder who dared invade your solitude and your body with such audacity. He was the enemy, son of the sky demon Toruk Makto, a threat to your clan's dominance and yet, the memory of his tongue and the heat of his mouth lingered like a poison you couldn't quite spit out. Intrigue twisted through the revulsion, what madness drove him to seek you out and kiss you as if you were his destined one?
Your grip tightened on the dagger, your knuckles paling as fury warred with a treacherous curiosity in your eyes.
"You think you can waltz in here and claim what isn't yours?" You spat stepping closer, the blade pressing harder against his jugular. "I should gut you here, leave your corpse for the viwiswasp to feast on. You're nothing but a pest, a filthy sky spawn with delusions."
But even as the words lashed out, mean and cutting, a part of you hesitated. The way his chest rose and fell mirroring your own ragged breaths, the earnest plea in his voice that clashed with the warrior's resolve. You wanted to kill him, to end this absurdity with a swift strike, to reclaim the control he'd stolen in that kiss. Your arm trembled slightly, your beauty twisted into something lethal as your lips curled in a sneer, and eyes blazing with the cruelty that defined you as Varang's sister, the Tsakarem destined to lead with iron will.
Neteyam's hand rose slowly, not to defend but to reach for you, fingers brushing the air near your wrist with longing softening the edges of his gaze.
"Kill me if you must." He whispered, voice thick with emotion and dark passion fueling his defiance. "But know that even in death, I'd want you. Your fire, your cruelty, all of it. You're no enemy to me, you're the one who's awakened something I can't ignore. Your name... please."
He wanted to love you, to pull you into his world of shadows and bind you there, consequences be damned.
Your heart thundered in your ears, a war drum echoing the chaos of betrayal and unwanted heat that his touch had ignited. The dagger trembled in your grasp, its razor edge kissing the pulse point at Neteyam's throat where his azure skin flushed with a mix of exertion and unbridled want. His golden eyes held yours unblinking, a predator's stare that refused to yield even in the face of death.
If giving him this scrap of yourself, of your name, would sever this madness then so be it.
"If I tell you my name…" You growled, voice low and edged with finality as threat wove through each syllable like thorns. "You must leave me alone. Swear it on Eywa or I'll carve your heart out here and now."
But you didn't wait for his oath, the words spilling from your lips like venom you needed to purge.
"(Y/N). Now leave me be or I'll make sure you die by my blade."
The name hung in the humid air, a reluctant offering that tasted like ash on your tongue. Your lips curled into a savage snarl, fury twisting your features and fangs glinting as you wrenched the dagger away to spun on your heel. Your bare feet sank into the cool moss, propelling you toward the river's edge where the water's gleam promised escape from his suffocating presence. Every muscle in your body coiled with the urge to flee, your hips swaying in a warrior's stride, and the loincloth brushing against your thighs like a reminder of the vulnerability he'd exploited.
"I can't do that." Neteyam called after you, his voice a rough timbre that cut through the rustle of leaves as desperation cracked the edges of his resolve.
He rose fluidly, his form unfolding like a shadow detaching from the earth with broad shoulders rolling as he took a step forward, clearly undeterred by the blood trickling down his neck.
You whirled around with disbelief flooding your veins like ice water, your wild mane of braids whipping across your shoulders in a dark cascade. The motion made your beaded top shift, the shells clinking softly against the curves of your chest which draw his gaze for a fleeting heated instant before you jabbed the dagger toward him accusingly.
"Why do you keep insisting?" You demanded, your voice rising in incredulous outrage while your confusion sharpened into a blade of its own. "Are you stupid, forest boy? We are enemies, I’m born of a clan that spills blood for sport and yet you want me?"
Your free hand gestured wildly between you, emphasizing the chasm that no words could bridge. Beauty radiated from you even in anger, the full swell of your mouth still tinged with the ghost of his kiss and a flush blooming across your collarbones like forbidden wildflowers.
"You and I could never be." You continued, the words lashing out with cruel precision, scorn dripping from your tone like poison. "My sister, Varang, would sooner see you flayed alive than accept you as the one to claim her tsmuke. She'd rip out your eyes for even dreaming it. And your precious Omatikaya? They'd never accept me. A Mangkwan, the Tsakarem who leads raids into your lands. What a fool you are, chasing shadows that will only lead you to ruin."
In your mind, he was a pathetic spectacle. This golden-eyed warrior, the son of legends, reduced to begging at the feet of his foe. His persistence grated against your pride, a fool's errand that mocked the iron walls you'd built around your heart. You turned away again with your shoulders squared, the dagger sheathed at your hip with a decisive snap and determined to outrun his folly.
"I don't care." Neteyam replied, his words steady and unyielding, a quiet fire burning beneath the surface as he stepped closer until the heat of his body brushed the air at your back.
But you didn't listen nor did let the plea sink in. You vanished into the underbrush, the forest swallowing you whole leaving him with the echo of your name and the sting of rejection.
Ever since that day, he haunted your steps like a specter woven from Pandora's own mists. Neteyam followed you through the tangled wilds of Mangkwan territory as a silent shadow at times, his presence a prickle at the nape of your neck when you scouted alone. Other moments, he'd emerge from the foliage, voice soft yet insistent, murmuring words meant to chip away at your defenses.
"The way you move through the trees, it's like you're part of them." He'd say one afternoon, golden eyes tracing the graceful flex of your calves as you leaped across a fallen log and your frame twisting mid-air with effortless poise.
Or in the hush of twilight as you sharpened your arrows by a flickering fire, he'd linger at the periphery and commenting on the stars reflected in your gaze, how they mirrored the fierce spark within you.
He was persistent, a relentless force driven by a singular goal. To soften you, to peel back the layers of cruelty until the woman he'd glimpsed in your sleep, the one who nuzzled his hand, emerged fully.
His approaches varied, sometimes bold with questions about your hunts, drawing out tales of Mangkwan prowess that made your chest swell despite yourself. Other times, quiet vigils where he'd simply watch, his muscular form leaning against a trunk, the scars on his arms catching the light like badges of battles fought for a cause, now fixated on you. Each encounter left you seething yet a treacherous warmth stirred in your core. His unwavering attention a balm to the isolation of your role as Tsakarem.
Weeks blurred into a tense rhythm, his pursuit weaving into the fabric of your days until one night, under a canopy heavy with the scent of night-blooming vines, you found yourself cornered.
Not by force but by the weight of his words.
You'd been tracking a hexapede through a secluded glade, the moon casting silvery paths on the dew-kissed ferns when he appeared blocking your path with a vulnerability that disarmed you. His braids were tousled from the chase, framing a face etched with raw honesty, the broad planes of his chest rising and falling as if he'd run for miles to reach you.
"Every duty, every breath I take without you feels empty." He confessed, voice a husky murmur, longing threading through like vines around your resolve. "You're not just an enemy, (Y/N). You're the fire that lights my darkness, the cruelty that makes me feel alive. Let me show you, let me prove that clans mean nothing when Eywa binds two souls like this."
His hand reached out not to grab but to hover near yours, the calluses on his fingers speaking of battles and bows. His golden eyes locking onto your lips with an intensity that made your pulse stutter.
The air thickened, charged with the unspoken pull that had simmered since that first kiss. Against your better judgment you stepped closer, the space between you shrinking until his breath ghosted your skin.
What was it about his persistence, the way he saw past your snarls to the beauty you wielded like a weapon?
Your body betrayed you as you leaned in, the soft peaks of your breasts brushing his chest through the thin barrier of beads sending sparks racing down your spine. His lips met yours in a tentative press then deepened as you responded, tongues tangling in a heated dance that tasted of forbidden fruit and shared secrets. Your hands fisted in his hair pulling him closer, the world fading to the firm press of his hips against yours and the low groan he emitted vibrating through you like thunder.
But reality crashed in like a tidal wave. Images of Varang's disapproving glare, the blood-soaked raids between your clans, and the impossibility of it all. You remembered who you were, the Tsakarem, Varang's unyielding sister, not some lovesick dreamer.
With a gasp you shoved him back, your palms slamming into the unyielding wall of his abdomen feeling the ripple of muscle beneath. He stumbled, eyes wide with shock and hurt, confusion flickering in their depths but you didn't let him speak.
"Do not come see me again nor follow me." You commanded, voice breaking with a mix of resolve and regret as steel hardened your tone to mask the tremor.
Your chest heaved, the beaded strands shifting with each ragged breath. You backed away, beauty sharpened by the pain of denial. Eyes stormy with unshed tears, lips swollen from the kiss, the lines of your body poised for flight.
"You and I... we could never be. Go back to your forest, Neteyam. Forget me or the next time I see you, my blade won't hesitate."
You turned and melted into the shadows leaving him kneeling in the glade, the echo of your rejection a wound deeper than any dagger could inflict. "(Y/N), wait—"
The night closed around you but his presence lingered like a scar like a persistent ache that neither distance nor denial could fully erase.
Weeks dragged on like vines choking the life from a once-vibrant tree and Neteyam hadn't caught even a whisper of your shadow flitting through the undergrowth. It was as if Eywa herself had woven you into the ether, erasing every trace of your presence from the tangled borders where your worlds collided. The forest, once a realm of purpose and patrol now felt hollow, its bioluminescent glow mocking the void you'd left in his chest.
He patrolled the edges of Omatikaya territory with mechanical precision, his bow slung across his back, but his golden eyes scanned not for threats but for the sway of a familiar form cutting through the mist-shrouded ferns.
Distraction clawed at him, a relentless predator that turned his thoughts into a storm of obsession. Training sessions blurred into forgotten commands. He'd miss cues from his father's strategies, his mind replaying the ghost of your lips against his and the way your body had arched into the kiss before rejection shattered the illusion. Your beauty haunted him, the elegant sweep of your neck as you snarled threats and the curve of your hips that spoke of battles won and raids led with unyielding command.
It consumed him, this dark hunger that twisted his once noble heart into something feral with nights spent pacing his marui pod, fingers tracing the air where your warmth had once pressed against him. Sleep evaded him replaced by visions of your eyes flashing defiance, your full mouth curving in cruel dismissal.
His family noticed the fracture in their golden son, the way his shoulders slumped under an invisible weight, his once-sharp focus dulled like a blade left too long in the rain. Meals passed in silence with his portions untouched until Lo'ak, ever the bold sibling, cornered him one evening by the central fire pit. The flames danced across their azure skin, casting flickering shadows that mirrored the turmoil in Neteyam's gaze.
Lo'ak dropped onto the woven mat beside him, his tail flicking with casual concern, lean muscles shifting under his arm bands as he leaned in.
"Bro, are you okay?" Lo'ak asked, voice laced with brotherly worry and a teasing edge softening the probe with his ears twitching forward. "You've been off lately like you're hunting ghosts or something."
Neteyam nodded absently, his jaw tightening as he poked at the embers with a stick, sparks rising like fleeting hopes. The motion was rote, his mind elsewhere and tangled in the memory of your scent.
Lo'ak wasn't convinced, his brow furrowing as he studied the distant look in his brother's eyes.
He nudged Neteyam's arm, the contact grounding but insistent. "Did something happen during the Mangkwan raid before Dad and I found you? Spill it."
Neteyam stilled, the stick snapping in his grip as the question yanked him back to that fateful clash. The ash-streaked warrior who'd pinned him with a blade, your body a taut bowstring of lethal grace. The memory ached like a fresh wound, your name a thorn embedded deep in his being.
He exhaled sharply, golden eyes darkening with the weight of confession.
"The Tsakarem of Mangkwan." He murmured, voice rough with longing, a raw edge betraying the storm within him. "I want her. (Y/N)."
Lo'ak's eyes widened stupefied, his mouth parting in shock as he processed the impossibility. His golden brother, the perfect heir, ensnared by an enemy? The very heart of Mangkwan cruelty?
He leaned back running a hand through his braids as disbelief etched lines across his face. "Bro... you know Dad and Mom would never approve. She's one of them. The ones who raid our allies, spill blood like it's water. What the hell, Neteyam?"
Neteyam's jaw clenched, the muscle ticking visibly under his skin, a fortress against the truth that echoed your own words like a cruel refrain.
He knew it, his Dad’s stern lectures on duty, his Mom’s unyielding gaze on clan purity but it did nothing to quench the fire you'd ignited. Your rejection replayed in his mind, the push of your hands against his chest, and the storm in your eyes as you declared your worlds irreconcilable. It only fueled the madness in him, making him crave the challenge of breaking through your walls.
As the brothers' tense exchange hung in the air, a soft rustle drew their attention.
Alayni emerged from the shadows of the surrounding pods, her steps hesitant and shy glances darting toward Neteyam like fireflies seeking light. Her frame was draped in healer's vines, the gentle swell of her hips swaying with quiet grace, her face framed by loose tendrils that caught the firelight and highlighting the soft blush on her cheeks. She carried a small pouch of herbs in a pretext for her approach but her eyes betrayed the deeper intent.
Lo'ak spotted her first, a mischievous grin splitting his face as he clapped Neteyam on the shoulder, the pat teasing and knowing amusement dancing in his tone. "Looks like your admirer is here for you. Don't mess this up, golden boy."
With a wink, he rose and sauntered off leaving Neteyam to the awkward solitude.
Neteyam rolled his eyes, a flicker of irritation crossing his features but he schooled his expression as Alayni settled beside him. Closer than usual, her knee brushing his thigh in a tentative claim of space. The warmth of her proximity was gentle and unthreatening, her fingers twisting the pouch nervously as she met his gaze.
"How are you?" She asked softly, voice a melodic lilt with shyness threading through like delicate vines as her full lips curved in a hopeful smile. "It feels like I haven't seen you around since I treated your wound. You've been... distant."
Neteyam shrugged, his broad shoulders lifting in a noncommittal motion making the scars on his arms flex subtly under the fire's glow.
"Duties." He replied curtly, voice flat as an evasion masking the turmoil, his mind already drifting back to you, the one whose touch lingered like a brand.
Alayni leaned in slightly, her breath warm against his ear preparing to bridge the gap with words of care, her hand hovering near his as if to offer solace. But before she could speak, shouts erupted from the tree line with harsh cries of victory and the thud of bound feet against the earth.
Neteyam's head snapped up, heart thudding against his ribs like a war drum as he spotted his father and the warriors returning, their forms silhouetted against the fading light.
The captives trailed behind, ash-streaked skins marking them as Mangkwan raiders, their bodies slumped in defeat. Five in total, wrists bound with sturdy vines but one sight stopped Neteyam's breath.
You.
Unconscious, your form cradled in the arms of a warrior with your head lolling against his chest, the ash paint smudged across your high cheekbones and the elegant line of your jaw. Your braids hung limp framing a face pale from exhaustion, the resilient curves of your body draped in tattered raiding gear that clung to the subtle flare of your waist and the firm strength of your thighs.
The others were dragged roughly but you were carried like a precious cargo even in enmity.
He scrambled to his feet, abandoning Alayni mid-breath, her confused expression lost in his haste. Legs pumping, he wove through the gathering crowd following Jake and the warriors into the large containment hut at the village's edge. The structure loomed, woven from sturdy branches and hides, its interior dim and partitioned for holding foes.
The captives were deposited inside. The four males shoved into a far corner with their glares defiant as their hisses of Mangkwan curses filled the air.
You were placed apart in a secluded alcove screened by a heavy cloth drape, your unconscious form laid gently on a mat of woven reeds. The warrior who carried you stepped back wiping sweat from his brow as Jake oversaw the securing of the space.
"Dad, what happened?" Neteyam demanded, voice edged with urgency and concern sharpening his tone like a drawn arrow as he stepped into the hut's shadowed confines with his tail lashing behind him.
Jake turned, his massive frame blocking the entrance momentarily, his eyes weary from the skirmish but sharp with command.
He wiped a streak of dirt from his arm, the muscles there corded from years of battle. "We were about to capture Varang. Had her cornered in the ravine but the female blocked it, took the hit meant for her. Bought enough time for their Tsahik to escape."
The female. You. The only one among them, your role as shield a testament to the fierce loyalty that bound you to your sister in fire and ash.
Neteyam's gaze flicked to your still form, hidden now behind the cloth and a pang twisted in his gut.
"She's the Tsakarem." He supplied, the words heavy with a mix of protectiveness and dread lacing his revelation.
Jake's eyes widened, surprise flashing across his stern features as he processed the implications, his hand pausing mid-gesture. "She's important to the Mangkwans then. Varang will probably come after her. Ransom or rescue, doesn't matter. We can't let that slide."
"She will." Neteyam confirmed stepping closer, his voice low and resolute, the ache of your vulnerability fueling his words. "That's her younger sister. Varang won't rest until she's free."
Jake nodded at the confirmation, his expression hardening into strategic resolve, clapping a hand on Neteyam's shoulder in brief solidarity. "We will keep a tight watch then. I'll ask them questions later. See what we can pry loose about their next moves."
With that he turned and strode out, the warriors filing after him leaving the hut in tense silence broken only by the captives' low growls from the corner.
Neteyam lingered, the air thick with the scent of sweat and earth from the raid. He approached your alcove parting the cloth with a steady hand, the fabric whispering against his fingers. There you lay tied loosely at wrists and ankles to prevent escape upon waking. Vines that bit gently into your skin, marked by fresh bruises blooming like dark petals along your arms and the arch of your collarbone.
Still as beautiful as he remembered, even in captivity. Your lashes fanned against your cheeks, full lips parted slightly in unconscious repose, the soft rise and fall of your chest drawing his eye to the swell beneath your disheveled top, and beads scattered like fallen stars.
He wanted to see you again, to clash words and wills in the wild freedom of the forest but not like this. Bound and broken at the mercy of his clan. Not with his family's eyes now fixed on you as a prize in their war. Kneeling beside you, the mat dipping under his weight as he reached out, callused fingers tracing the curve of your cheek and brushing away a smudge of ash to reveal the smooth glow beneath. Your skin was warm, alive with the pulse he knew so well, and the touch sent a shiver through him as desire warred with regret.
Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. Gentle and lingering, tasting the faint salt of battle and the sweetness he'd stolen before.
"Foolish girl." He whispered against your mouth, tenderness laced with dark possession as his breath mingled with yours in the dim light.
The words were a caress and a claim, his thumb stroking the plush line of your lower lip as he pulled back, golden eyes devouring the sight of you vulnerable yet unbroken. In this moment with the world outside plotting your fate, he vowed silently to shield you. From his clan, from Varang's wrath, from everything but the bond that refused to die.
You stirred faintly under his touch, a soft murmur escaping your throat but consciousness eluded you still. Neteyam remained, a sentinel in the shadows, his heart a battlefield where love and enmity bled into one.
Hours slipped by in the dim hush of the containment hut, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and lingering smoke from the raid. Flickering torchlight danced across the woven walls, casting elongated shadows that twisted like serpents in the undergrowth.
You stirred slowly, the haze of unconsciousness peeling away to reveal the ache throbbing through your limbs, a dull fire from the blow that had felled you, protecting Varang's escape. Your eyelids fluttered open, gaze sharpening as the world came into focus. The sturdy reeds beneath you, the vines binding your wrists and ankles in a loose but unyielding embrace, and worst of all, the two figures looming nearby.
Neteyam knelt close, his golden eyes fixed on you with an intensity that bordered on hunger, broad shoulders tense under his warrior's harness, the lean cords of muscle in his arms flexing as he leaned forward. Beside him stood Jake Sully, Toruk Makto, his massive frame radiating authority, scarred torso marked by battles long past, tail swaying with restrained impatience.
A snarl ripped from your throat, low and feral disgust curling your lips like a predator's warning, your body coiling against the restraints as you bared your teeth. The sight of them, your captors and enemies, ignited a blaze in your chest, your form tensing, the subtle strength in your thighs pressing against the mat as you tested the bonds.
Jake crossed his arms, his gaze steady and unyielding, a hint of weary respect in his tone. "Your warriors stabbed themselves refusing to talk. You are the only one left."
You met his eyes, a smirk twisting your full mouth despite the vulnerability of your position, the line of your jaw lifting in defiance. Ash still clung in faint traces to your high cheekbones, accentuating the beauty of your features.
"Their loyalties bind them to us." You replied, voice smooth and laced with pride, a mocking edge sharpening the words, your chest rising with a steady breath that drew attention to the swell beneath your tattered top.
Jake tsked, shaking his head, the sound rough like gravel, underfoot frustration etching faint lines around his eyes. "You're one stubborn clan."
You hissed at him, the sound sharp and venomous, hatred flashing in your stare, ears flattening against your skull as you glared at the legend before you, the human-turned-Na'vi who embodied everything your clan despised.
"You will remain here, captive." Jake continued, his voice firm, command underscoring the decree. "You'll be our leverage if your sister ever decides to attack."
A growl rumbled deep in your chest, directed solely at him. The Toruk Makto, the anomaly who dared threaten your bloodline. Your fingers curled into fists within the vines, nails digging into your palms, the taper of them drawing faint crescents on your skin.
Jake sighed, the exhale heavy with the weight of leadership, and clapped a hand on Neteyam's shoulder, the gesture paternal and trusting as a subtle nod of handover. "Keep watch on her. The responsibility is on you."
Neteyam nodded, his expression composed outward, calm masking the thrill surging through his veins, but inside, glee bubbled like a hidden spring. He alone would guard you, tend to you, unravel the fortress of your resistance. As Jake strode out, the flap of the hut falling shut behind him, the space shrank to just the two of you, the air humming with unspoken tension.
"Baby." Neteyam murmured, voice low and intimate, affection warming the endearment as he shifted closer on his knees, his warm breath ghosting over your bound form.
You recoiled, disgust twisting your features, revulsion flaring hot in your gut, your head snapping back as far as the position allowed, the cascade of your braids shifting across your shoulders.
"Don't call me with that filthy tawtute terms of yours." You spat, words dripping venom as anger sharpened each syllable, your torso arching away from him.
He ignored the barb, golden eyes gleaming with unshakeable resolve as he leaned in, the scent of forest and him invading your senses. "Why did you let yourself get captured?"
You snarled baring fangs, fury igniting your gaze like struck flint, straining against the vines that held your wrists above your head, the motion pulling taut the supple curve of your arms.
"I am protecting our tsahik." You hissed, loyalty a shield as unyielding as your will, your voice echoing the sacred bond to Varang.
His lips curved into a grin, wide and boyish yet edged with something darker, delight sparkling in his eyes, the sharp angles of his face softening in the torchlight. "I've missed you."
You rolled your eyes, the gesture exaggerated, exasperation warring with the unwelcome flutter in your chest, turning your face away, the slope of your neck exposed in the motion, beads from your disrupted adornments clinking softly.
"I've missed your lips." He added, voice dropping to a husky whisper, desire threading through like vines claiming a tree, his fingers reaching out to trace the plush contour of your mouth, calluses rough against the sensitive skin.
You shook him off with a jerk of your head, the touch igniting sparks of unwanted heat irritation flaring alongside a traitorous shiver.
"Do not touch me, demon." You commanded, tone icy, loathing masking the conflict stirring within you.
But he only grinned wider, happiness radiating from him like bioluminescent blooms, his joy unmarred by your barbs as he settled back on his haunches to simply watch you, the weight of his gaze a caress in itself.
The days that followed blurred into a rhythm of captivity and unwelcome intimacy, the hut your world narrowed to woven walls and the single guardian who haunted your every waking moment.
Neteyam was the only face you saw, his presence a constant. Bringing woven baskets of fruit and roasted meats, feeding you with deliberate care. His fingers would brush your lips as he offered bites of sweet berry, the juice staining your chin, and you'd snarl with defiance in every bite, snapping at his hand like a cornered ikran, yet he persisted undeterred, his touch lingering on the delicate skin of your jaw.
He touched you freely, hands roaming while you snarled and twisted as fury boiled beneath your skin, the vines holding you fast to the mat or a sturdy post when he deemed it necessary. Stolen kisses came unbidden, his mouth claiming yours in quick heated presses when your guards were down, tongue teasing the seam of your lips until you bit back with rage fueling the clash of teeth.
He was utterly smitten, golden eyes devouring every inch of you with the way your chest heaved with indignant breaths, the flex of your thighs as you kicked futilely, the wild beauty of your stare that promised retribution.
One afternoon, as sunlight filtered through the hut's slits in golden shafts, he untied your ankles just enough to pull you onto his lap, your back pressed against the solid wall of his chest. His arms encircled your waist, strong and unyielding with possessiveness in his hold, the heat of his body seeping through your sparse coverings.
You snarled writhing, disgust and something perilously close to anticipation warring within, but the bonds on your wrists kept you captive to his whims.
"Shh, just relax." He murmured against your ear, tenderness laced with command, his large hands sliding upward, cupping the soft perky mounds of your breasts through the thin beaded top.
His thumbs circled the peaks, teasing them to firm points, desire evident in the hitch of his breath as he massaged your breasts with slow deliberate strokes that sent unwelcome jolts through your core. The sensation was maddening, the rough pads of his fingers kneading the yielding flesh, tracing the alluring undersweep before pinching lightly, drawing a gasp you couldn't suppress betrayal in the sound.
Your body arched involuntarily, nipples hardening under his touch, the azure skin flushing with heat as he lavished attention, his lips grazing the curve of your shoulder.
"See? You like it." He whispered, smug satisfaction coloring his voice, nipping at the tender skin there, his hips shifting subtly beneath you, the growing hardness pressing against your lower back.
You growled low, humiliation burning alongside the forbidden pleasure, twisting your head to glare at him, but the fight in your eyes dimmed fractionally with each passing day.
Weeks wove onward, the passage marked by the changing light outside and the subtle shift within you.
The snarls grew less fervent, your body anticipating his arrivals from the brush of his fingers to the the warmth of his frame, though you'd never admit it, never let the fondness crack your armored facade. You'd avert your gaze when he fed you, lips parting almost eagerly for the morsels, or lean into his massages despite the huffs of protest, a secret thrill coiling in your belly.
His touches became a ritual with his hands exploring the lines of your sides, thumbs dipping into the dip of your waist, or tracing the strong taper of your legs, always pushing boundaries while you feigned outrage.
One evening, as the stars began their vigil beyond the hut, Neteyam had you straddled across his thighs once more, your bound hands resting on his shoulders for balance.
The air hummed with humidity, your skin glistening faintly, the elegant fan of your lashes lowered as his palms worked their magic on your breasts again. This time bare, the beads pushed aside to expose the soft rounded swells. He kneaded them with reverence, awe in the gentle pressure, rolling the sensitive buds between fingers slick with shared sweat. His mouth following to lave hot open-mouthed kisses along the valley between.
Your breath hitched, conflict evident in the stutter, hips rocking subtly against him, the friction igniting sparks that blurred the line between hate and hunger. He groaned against your skin as need roughened the sound, one hand sliding down to grip the firm curve of your ass, pulling you closer as his tongue flicked teasingly.
It was in this haze of intimacy, bodies entwined like mates in the privacy of the alcove, that Alayni slipped into the hut unseen, her steps silent as a healer's grace. She had come under pretense of checking the captives' wounds, her pouch of salves clutched tightly, but the sight that greeted her froze her in the shadows.
You and Neteyam, lost in each other, his hands worshipping your form, your head thrown back in a moment of unguarded surrender.
Fury ignited in her chest, hot and consuming jealousy twisting her features into a mask of rage, eyes narrowing to slits.
Neteyam was supposed to be hers. The shy glances she'd cast, the wounds she'd tended with lingering touches, the dreams of bonding under Eywa's gaze. And now, here he was, defiling that future with you. An enemy, a Mangkwan witch, doing filthy things that should have been hers alone. Her fingers tightened on the pouch, knuckles paling, as she watched his mouth claim a nipple, your soft moan piercing the air like a betrayal.
But anger birthed cunning.
Alayni's lips curled into a smirk, cold and calculating as vindictive glee sparked in her gaze, she backed away silently, melting into the night. She knew just what to do, whispers to the right ears, seeds of doubt sown in fertile soil.
Varang would come for her sister but before that, she'd ensure this forbidden flame was snuffed out, one way or another.
The days dragged on in the stifling confines of the hut, your world reduced to the flicker of torch flames and the relentless pull of the vines that bound you. Whispers from beyond the woven walls hinted at unrest, scouts reporting movements in the ash-choked territories but you paid them little mind, your thoughts a whirlwind of simmering resentment and the unwelcome echoes of Neteyam's touches.
Unbeknownst to everyone, Alayni moved like a shadow through the camp, her steps light and purposeful as she sought out a Mangkwan scout. With a healer's gentle facade masking her venom, she slipped him a message etched on a leaf. The location of the Omatikaya's hidden holding ground, the precise hut where you were kept. Satisfaction curled her lips as she watched him dispatch immediately after hissing at her.
Varang would come, of that she was certain, and once you were ripped away, the stain you'd left on Neteyam's heart would fade, leaving her path clear.
She bided her time with calculated grace, weaving herself deeper into the fabric of the Sully family.
Mornings found her at Neytiri's side in the healer's marui, her hands steady as she ground herbs for poultices, her voice soft with feigned humility, adoration shining in her wide eyes as she praised Neytiri's wisdom. Evenings brought her to Jake, offering insights on the refugees' wounds, her touch lingering just a fraction too long on his arm as she murmured concerns for the clan's future.
Approval warmed their gazes, nods of encouragement that fueled her ambition. Everything unfolded as she envisioned. His parents' favor solidified, pressure mounting on Neteyam to seal the bond before the shadows of war encroached further.
One humid afternoon, as the sun dipped toward the canopy in a blaze of amber, Alayni slipped into your hut unannounced, the flap rustling like a conspirator's whisper.
You lay there, wrists still secured to the low beam overhead, your frame stretched out on the mat, the faint sheen of sweat tracing the elegant hollows of your collarbones. Your azure skin glowed softly in the diffused light, the subtle freckles across your shoulders like scattered stars, and your chest rose in steady rhythms.
She knelt beside you, her posture demure yet predatory, knees folding gracefully onto the earth as her tail flicked with restrained triumph. Her fingers brushed the edge of the mat, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from your body.
"So this is where my soon-to-be mate has been occupying himself with." She said, voice honeyed with mock pity as a saccharine smile curved her lips, eyes glinting with malice.
You stared at her blankly, eyes narrowing slightly as you took in her features.
"Who?" You asked tone flat, your head tilting just enough to let a braid slip over your shoulder, brushing the firm flesh of your bicep.
Her grin widened, sweet as overripe fruit, revealing the gleam of her teeth as she leaned closer, the scent of healing herbs clinging to her like a veil.
"Neteyam." She purred, the name rolling off her tongue with possessive delight, triumph lacing the revelation. "We will be mated earlier than planned, as per his parents."
Something twisted in your chest. A sharp unexpected clench that stole your breath like thorns snagging delicate vines. Your heart stuttered, a betraying ache blooming beneath your ribs, but you schooled your features into impassive stone, the high planes of your cheekbones unchanging, your gaze steady as unyielding rock.
All this time, his whispers, his hands mapping your skin like sacred territory, his stolen kisses that left you breathless and conflicted, they were lies woven around another. A potential mate waiting in the wings while he toyed with you, the enemy captive.
Sick demon bastard.
"Put him on a leash then." You replied, forcing a grin that mirrored hers, malice flashing in your stare like lightning over ash plains, your voice dripping with feigned amusement. "So your future mate will stop coming to pester me."
The words tasted like bile but you held the expression as you met her stare head on.
Meanwhile, across the camp in the central marui, Neteyam stood rigid before his parents, the air thick with the scent of spiced tea and unresolved tension.
Jake's broad frame filled the space, his scarred arms crossed over his chest while Neytiri sat poised nearby, her fingers tracing patterns on a woven mat, golden eyes watchful.
The news fell like a stone into still water. A mating with Alayni, sealed in just one month's time, earlier than tradition dictated, a safeguard against the uncertainties of leadership should fate claim both Jake and Neytiri in battle.
"It's for the clan, son." Jake said, voice gravelly with finality, concern etching deeper lines into his brow, clapping a hand on Neteyam's shoulder, the weight meant to ground him.
Neytiri nodded, her tail curling supportively around her leg gentle resolve in her tone. "Alayni is devoted and strong, she is who we have chosen. She will stand beside you as Olo'eyktan's mate."
Fury burned through Neteyam's veins, hot and unquenchable, his jaw clenching so tightly the muscles bunched along his sharp jawline.
He didn't want her. Not her shy glances, not her dutiful presence, they were chains disguised as comfort. No, his thoughts raced to you. The fire in your snarls, the beauty of your form yielding under his touch, the forbidden pull that consumed him. You, with your pretty eyes that pierced like arrows, your body a landscape he longed to claim eternally.
He said nothing, golden eyes darkening with suppressed rage, turning on his heel without another word. The marui's flap snapped shut behind him as he stormed toward your hut, craving the solace of your presence, the one anchor in this storm of obligation.
He pushed through the entrance, the dim interior unfolding before him like a betrayal frozen in time.
There you were, bound and defiant, but your face. Oh, Eywa, your face, it was lit with a grin that sliced deeper than any blade. The malicious glint in your eyes was back, amplified tenfold, a savage spark that echoed the day he'd first seen you amid the raid's chaos, ash-streaked and commanding.
Beside you knelt Alayni, her expression a mask of innocence shattered by the scene.
"Look, your future mate is here." You said, the words laced with venomous glee as your grin widened, teeth flashing as you tilted your chin upward.
The coldness in your stare pinned him, stripping away the fragile warmth he'd coaxed from you over weeks of stolen intimacies.
Neteyam stiffened, his broad chest heaving with a sharp inhale, the lean planes of his abdomen tensing beneath his harness.
You knew. The progress, the softening glances, the reluctant leans into his embrace crumbled to dust before his eyes. Alayni had poisoned it all, her meddling a dagger to his desires.
His gaze flicked to her, fury igniting like dry tinder. Without a word, he lunged forward, large hand wrapping around Alayni's slender wrist in a grip of iron, frustration boiling over in the tremble of his fingers. He dragged her up and out, her body stumbling in his wake, the flap whipping shut behind them.
You watched them go, the grin on your lips turning colder and sharper, like frost on volcanic glass a hollow ache gnawing at your core despite the armor. They did look good together, her demure form tucked against his towering strength, a picture of clan-approved harmony. And that truth stung more than any admission, a barb lodging deep, twisting with the realization of your own foolish vulnerability.
Outside, in the shadowed alcove between huts, Neteyam released Alayni with a shove, whirling on her as a hiss escaped his throat, low and guttural rage vibrating through the sound, his ears pinning back flat against his braided hair.
"What did you tell her?" He demanded, golden eyes blazing, the sharp angles of his face hardened into lines of accusation, his tail lashing like a whip.
Alayni glanced up at him through her lashes, the gesture shy and fluttering, feigned innocence veiling the satisfaction in her depths, rubbing her wrist with delicate fingers.
"That we will be mated in a month." She replied softly, voice trembling just enough to evoke pity, a subtle pout forming on her lips.
Neteyam growled, the sound rumbling from his chest like distant thunder, frustration etching fury across his features, stepping closer until his shadow engulfed her.
"You ruined everything." He snarled, fists clenching at his sides, the cords of muscle in his forearms standing out in stark relief.
"I was just saying the truth." Alayni countered, chin lifting with quiet defiance, resolve strengthening her tone, eyes locking onto his. "Especially since it's been blessed by your parents. It's for the good of the clan, Neteyam."
He opened his mouth to retort, words of denial and desperation bubbling up, but the air shattered with a deafening roar. Explosions ripped through the camp, blooms of fire and ash erupting from the perimeter like vengeful spirits unleashed. The ground trembled, screams piercing the night as warriors scrambled, bows drawn and ikran screeching overhead. Mangkwans, fierce shadows descending from the shadows, their forms painted in war cries and fury.
They had come for you.
The chaos erupted like the fury of Eywa's wrath, the night sky fracturing with bursts of flame and acrid smoke that clawed at the senses.
Neteyam froze at the threshold of the marui, his hand outstretched toward the flap, every fiber of his being screaming to reach you, to shield you from the encroaching storm. But another explosion thundered closer, shaking the woven platform beneath his feet, the ground vibrating with the impact of Mangkwan ikrans diving from the shadowed cliffs. Warriors' cries pierced the air, sharp desperate calls to arms and he knew with a sinking dread, that duty bound him first.
His golden eyes lingered on the shadowed interior for a heartbeat longer, the pull toward you a magnetic ache in his chest before he spun away, muscles coiling like a predator's as he sprinted into the fray. m
Alayni stood forgotten in the dust, her form shrinking in his wake as he vanished among the leaping shadows of Omatikaya defenders.
Inside the marui, the world tilted on its axis. You had barely settled back against the mat, the vines around your wrists a familiar rasp against your skin, when the first boom reverberated through the walls, deep and ominous, like the rumble of volcanic depths stirring awake. Your eyes snapped open, head lifting as the air grew thick with the scent of scorched earth and distant blood.
What was this? Another raid? Or something far worse, born of the tensions that had simmered since your capture?
The flap burst open without warning, a silhouette materializing in the torchlight like a specter from the ash plains. Tall and imposing, her frame clad in the jagged armor of Mangkwan war paint, stripes of obsidian gleaming across her broad shoulders and down the powerful lines of her thighs.
Varang, your sister, the unyielding force of your clan, stepped forward, her presence filling the space with an electric menace, her tail lashing once in sharp triumph.
"Little tsmuke." She rumbled, voice low and edged with possessive glee, a fierce grin splitting her face, revealing the sharpened points of her canines as her amber eyes locked onto yours with predatory affection.
Your breath caught, a surge of relief flooding through you like cool rain on parched soil, your body shifting upright despite the bindings, the subtle flex of your toned abdomen drawing the loincloth's edges taut against your hips.
"Varang." You whispered, the word laced with raw vulnerability, hope flickering in your gaze, your full lips curving into a tentative smile that softened the sharp beauty of your features. "You came for me?"
She moved with purposeful strides, her large hands reaching for the vines with swift efficiency, slicing through them with a hidden dagger that flashed in the dim light. The fibers parted with a soft snap, and freedom rushed back into your limbs, a tingling warmth spreading from your wrists as you rubbed the faint red marks blooming on your azure skin.
Varang's grin widened, menacing and triumphant, her broad chest heaving with barely contained energy, the intricate scars across her collarbone catching the fire's glow like badges of conquest.
"Yes." She said, tone brooking no delay, commanding resolve in her stance as she gripped your arm, pulling you to your feet with effortless strength. "Come."
You followed her out into the night, the marui's warmth giving way to the chaotic symphony of battle.
The village platform teemed with motion. Omatikaya warriors leaping between branches, their forms blurring as they nocked arrows and unleashed volleys into the descending horde. Mangkwan fighters swarmed from the treeline, their ikran shrieking as they clashed mid-air, talons raking through flesh and wing. Explosions bloomed sporadically, grenades of volcanic powder hurled by your kin, igniting the underbrush in furious orange. The air hummed with the twang of bowstrings and the guttural roars of combat, the metallic tang of blood mingling with the earthy musk of sweat-soaked bodies.
Your bare feet padded softly over the woven walkways, heart pounding in sync with the frenzy, your unbound arms swinging freely for the first time in weeks, the cool night breeze kissing the exposed curves of your waist and the gentle swell of your breasts beneath the beaded strands.
Then, amid the turmoil, you spotted her. Alayni, huddled against a nearby post, her slender frame trembling in the flickering light, wide eyes darting as if seeking an anchor in the storm.
Varang strode past without a flicker of acknowledgment, her focus laser-sharp on escape but you couldn't hold back.
A snarl tore from your throat, low and feral fury igniting in your gaze, your lips peeling back to expose teeth in a vicious baring, the line of your neck tensing as you leaned toward her.
Varang's hand clamped down on your shoulder, firm and unyielding, halting your advance mid-step.
You glanced up at her, confusion etching across your face, the high cheekbones flushing faintly with the heat of your anger.
"She was the one who told us where you were. I would have cut her kuru off but we will be wasting time." Varang explained, voice a gravelly murmur as disgust curled her upper lip.
The revelation hit like a spear to the gut.
This fucking bitch, going to such depraved extremes just to claim Neteyam? Betraying her own people, inviting destruction upon them for a twisted shot at his bond?
Rage and amusement simmered in your veins, hot and unfiltered, but you channeled it into a smirk, slow and menacing, your eyes narrowing to slits that gleamed with cruel intelligence. You stepped closer to Alayni despite Varang's hold, your posture shifting into one of mocking poise, the graceful sway of your hips accentuating the lithe power in your legs.
"You became a traitor to your people just to have him?" You taunted, voice silky with venom as a low chuckle bubbled up, your head tilting to let a braid sway against the smooth plane of your shoulder. "Do you think you'd be mated with him once they found out you were the one who caused this destruction, their deaths?"
You giggled then, the sound cruel and crystalline, echoing like shattering glass amid the distant clamor, your laughter laced with derision as you watched her eyes sharpen, the shy facade cracking to reveal the venom beneath.
Alayni's features twisted, her soft mouth compressing into a thin line, but she forced a grin in return, brittle and defiant, her hands clenching at her sides, knuckles paling against her blue skin.
"No one will know." She hissed, the words dripping with false sweetness, a predatory glint flashing in her gaze, her chin lifting in haughty challenge. "Because you won't be here anymore to tell him."
You met her stare with a taunting calm, your smirk unwavering, the corners of your mouth quirking upward in serene mockery, your body relaxed yet poised, the subtle rise and fall of your chest betraying none of the storm within.
Varang's fingers dug into your arm then, urging you onward with a sharp tug, her massive form shielding you as she propelled you toward the edge of the platform.
"Enough." She growled, impatience sharpening her tone, her free hand gesturing toward her waiting nightwraith in the shadows.
Hesitation gripped you like invisible chains, heavier than the vines ever were.
Over those endless days and nights, fondness had crept into your heart for Neteyam. Unwanted and insidious, a warmth that bloomed in the wake of his persistent touches, his whispered promises that now rang hollow. You had grown accustomed to the way his golden eyes softened for you, the reverence in his caresses tracing the valleys of your spine, the heat of his body pressing close in the dim hut.
But to stay?
To linger as their prisoner, forced to witness him bound to this scheming viper in a month's time? No. The betrayal stung deeper than any wound. He had lied, omitted the truth of his impending mating while his hands roamed your skin, murmuring of futures intertwined, of desires that now felt like cruel jests. Your chest tightened, a sigh escaping your lips, soft and resigned, your shoulders slumping ever so slightly, the curve of your back arching as you drew in the smoky air you were familiar with.
You ran then, matching Varang's powerful strides, your legs carrying you with renewed vigor over the swaying bridges, the wind whipping through your hair and cooling the flush on your cheeks. The battle raged around you, but your focus narrowed to escape. The distant calls of your ikran, the path to freedom amid the chaos. Behind you, the marui faded into the night, a chapter closing with bitter finality.
Minutes stretched into an eternity of skirmishes before Neteyam could break free, his bow still humming from the arrows he'd loosed into the fray, his chest heaving with exertion, streaks of soot marring the defined ridges of his torso. He raced back to the marui, ignoring the sting of superficial cuts along his arms, his mind a singular blaze.
You.
Bursting through the flap, he scanned the interior, the empty mat, the severed vines scattered like discarded shackles. His heart plummeted, a cold void yawning in his chest, the lean muscles of his frame going rigid as denial clawed at him.
He whirled out, golden eyes landing on Alayni, who lingered outside, her posture a picture of feigned distress, arms wrapped around her slender waist as if to ward off the night's terror. He ignored the way she reached for him, her fingers brushing his elbow and fixed her with a glare that could shatter stone.
"Where is she?" He demanded, voice rough and edged with panic, his jaw clenching, the sharp planes of his face taut with desperation, tail flicking erratically behind him.
Alayni's expression crumpled into one of artful fragility, her wide eyes shimmering with unshed tears, lashes fluttering as she gazed up at him, her voice emerging soft and quivering, laced with sorrowful conviction. "She ran away, Neteyam. Her sister came and freed her. I told her you wouldn't want her to leave but she was happy to be free. Said she didn't want to be here... nor be in your presence."
Silence crashed over him like a tidal wave, his breath stalling in his lungs, the world narrowing to the echo of her words.
You really didn't like him. All those weeks,the stolen moments where your body arched into his, the fleeting softness in your gaze, the reluctant sighs that he mistook for yielding, they were illusions, born of captivity's coercion. You had endured him, nothing more, your responses a prisoner's survival, not a spark of true connection. The fire that had burned in his soul for you flickered and died, leaving only ashes in its wake, his heart turning to ice, numb and unyielding.
His broad shoulders sagged imperceptibly, the golden light in his eyes dimming to shadowed resolve.
Alayni stepped closer, her hand finding his arm again, this time with gentle insistence comfort threading her tone, a subtle smile curving her lips as she pressed the advantage. "It's okay, Neteyam. She is a Mangkwan, she's been wanting to escape. At least our people will have no problems anymore, and in a month, we will be mated."
He didn't pull away, the words settling over him like a shroud.
Acceptance seeped in, cold and inevitable, you did not want him, and perhaps it was time to let the obsession fracture, to forge ahead with the path laid before him by clan and kin. The battle's din faded to a distant roar as the warrior's mask slipped back into place, burying the remnants of his shattered longing for you.
Since then, weeks had slipped by like shadows fleeing the dawn, each day etching deeper lines of detachment into Neteyam's once-vibrant spirit. The lush canopy of the Omatikaya village hummed with its eternal rhythm, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant calls of ikran wheeling overhead, but for him, the world had dulled to a muted haze. His golden eyes, once alight with the fire, now stared out with a steely impassivity, scanning horizons not for wonder, but for threats to be neutralized.
The raid led by Varang had receded into memory, its scars healed on the village platforms, yet the wound it inflicted on him festered unseen, a quiet erosion of the warmth that had defined him.
Tuk, with her boundless energy and innocent delight, felt the chill most acutely. She bounded up to him one evening as he sharpened his blade by the communal fire, her small hands clutching a fresh weave of beads, iridescent stones and feathers intertwined in a pattern mimicking the bioluminescent vines that glowed at night. Her tail swished with eager anticipation, freckles dancing across her cheeks as she thrust the creation forward, her wide eyes sparkling with hope voice bubbling with excitement.
"Neteyam, look! I made this for you, it's like the stars we saw last eclipse!"
He paused, the whetstone halting mid-stroke against the obsidian edge, his broad shoulders tensing beneath the woven straps of his chest harness. For a fleeting moment, his gaze softened, tracing the delicate craftsmanship in her tiny fingers, the way the beads caught the sunlight and shimmered like captured fireflies. But the spark didn't ignite, no smile curved his lips, no playful ruffle of her hair followed.
Instead, he nodded curtly, resuming his task with mechanical precision, his jaw set in a firm line, voice flat and distant, devoid of the affectionate lilt she craved. "It's nice, Tuk. Put it with the others."
Her face fell, the joy draining like water from a punctured gourd, her ears drooping as she clutched the beads closer to her chest. She lingered for a beat, searching his profile, hoping for the brother who would scoop her up and declare it the finest gift Eywa ever bestowed. But he turned away, eyes fixed on the blade's gleaming surface, and she scampered off, shoulders slumped, the weave trailing forgotten in her wake.
The once-loving brother and son had hollowed into a shell, his movements efficient but soulless as if the essence that bound him to family and clan had been leeched away. All because of you, your escape a silent verdict on his delusions, a rejection that echoed in the empty spaces of his nights.
He threw himself into duties with relentless fervor. Leading patrols along the outer borders, training young warriors in the art of silent strikes, overseeing the weaving of new nets for the ikran handlers. His body moved with the grace of a predator, but his mind was a fortress, walled against reminiscence of you.
He avoided the routes where fate had first tangled your paths, the shadowed glades where Mangkwan raids had brushed too close to Omatikaya lands. No longer did he linger at the river's bend, where the water ran swift and clear, its banks lined with ferns that whispered secrets to the wind. Those places, once alive with the thrill of pursuit and stolen glances with you, now held only ghosts. He charted new paths, deeper into the heart of the forest, where the air grew thicker with the scent of moss and blooming nightflowers, forcing his focus to the tangible such as the snap of a branch underfoot or the distant roar of a thanator claiming territory.
Jake and Neytiri watched from afar, their concern a quiet storm brewing in stolen moments by their marui.
Jake's brow furrowed as he cleaned his rifle, a human relic he rarely touched these days, his massive frame leaning against a post, eyes tracking Neteyam's solitary figure vanishing into the treeline. The change had been stark, a full revolution from the son who joked with Lo'ak over shared kills to this impassive sentinel. It started after Varang's assault, the explosions that had torn through the night like Eywa's judgment, and though the Mangkwan leader had retreated with her forces, the aftermath lingered in Neteyam's silence.
"He's not himself." Jake murmured one evening, his voice rough with worry, arms crossed over his broad chest and the lines around his eyes deepening as he gazed at Neytiri.
Neytiri nodded, her braids swaying as she stirred a pot of herbal stew, the steam rising in fragrant curls that carried notes of healing roots. Her golden eyes, sharp and knowing, held a mother's intuition, tracing the invisible threads connecting her son's withdrawal to the captive who had slipped away.
"I think it is the Mangkwan tsakarem." She said, conviction lacing her tone, her tail curling thoughtfully around her ankle, fingers pausing on the wooden spoon as a memory of your face surfaced. "I believe she has woven herself into his thoughts. The attack... it freed her but it broke something in him."
Jake sighed, rubbing a hand over his braided mohawk, the weight of leadership pressing on him as surely as the humid air. They had suspected as much, the way Neteyam's gaze had lingered on the empty marui, the subtle flinch at mentions of Mangkwan scouts. But pushing him now, with the mantle of Olo'eyktan looming in a year's shadow, would only drive the fracture deeper.
"Let him be." He decided, voice resolute yet tinged with reluctance as be stood to clasp her shoulder, his callused palm warm against her skin. "He'll find his way. Duty will anchor him."
Alayni, meanwhile, bloomed in the vacuum of his detachment, her happiness a radiant veil masking the shadows of her deeds.
Two weeks until the mating ceremony and the village buzzed with preparations of fresh flowers woven into garlands and chants rehearsed under the great tree's glow. No one knew of her betrayal, the whispered coordinates she had passed to Varang's men, the calculated risk that had invited chaos to claim you and clear her path. To the clan, she was the dutiful future tsahik, her shy smiles and gentle hands a perfect counterpoint to Neteyam's stoic resolve.
She walked beside him now on a routine patrol, her steps light and synchronized with his longer strides, the sway of her hips accentuated by the fitted loincloth that hugged her slender curves. The sun filtered through the canopy in dappled patterns, gilding her azure skin and highlighting the subtle bioluminescent freckles dusting her collarbone. Alayni glanced up at him often, her dark eyes alight with unspoken triumph as a soft giggle escaped her lips, brushing a leaf from his arm, fingers lingering on the firm swell of his bicep.
"The forest feels peaceful today, doesn't it, Neteyam? Like Eywa is blessing our union already."
He nodded absently, his gaze fixed ahead on the winding path, the play of light and shadow across his chiseled features unchanging.
Accompanying her was duty, escorting his future mate through the clan's territories, ensuring her safety amid lingering threats from rival clans. His hand rested on his knife hilt, posture alert, the lean lines of his torso shifting with each measured step, sweat beading along the ridge of his spine from the midday heat. To him, it was rote, a task etched into the rhythm of leadership, devoid of the spark that had once ignited at your proximity.
But to Alayni, every moment was victory incarnate.
She had won, the enemy tsakarem fled, the obstacles in her way shattered, and soon his kuru would bond with hers under the eyes of the clan. Her heart raced with giddy elation, a flush warming her cheeks as she imagined the ceremony. His strong hands on her waist, the tsaheylu sealing their fates. She linked her arm through his pressing closer, the soft press of her breast against his side a deliberate intimacy, voice breathy with feigned shyness yet her eyes gleamed with possessive delight.
"I can't wait for the weaving of our kurus. It'll be perfect, won't it? Just us, forever."
Neteyam murmured agreement, the words automatic as his mind was elsewhere, on maps of patrol routes or on the warriors awaiting his command.
He tried with iron will to banish thoughts of you from the recesses of his soul. He would be Olo'eyktan soon, the weight of the clan on his shoulders, mated to Alayni in a union forged for stability and strength. There was no space for yearning, no indulgence for a ghost who had recoiled from his touch, who had fled at the first chance, eyes cold with disgust rather than desire. You hadn't loved him, your responses had been chains of circumstance, feigned to survive the cage of captivity.
The realization was a blade at his chest, twisting deeper with each suppressed memory.
Yet, in the quiet hours when the village slumbered and the stars wheeled overhead, your image weaseled in unbidden. He would lie on his mat, the thatch roof above him a barrier against the night's whispers but sleep evaded him. Visions assailed of the arch of your neck as you tilted your head in defiance, the silken glide of your skin under his fingertips during those stolen intimacies, the reluctant parting of your lips that he had mistaken for surrender. An ache bloomed in his chest like thorns embedding in its flesh, a hollow throb that echoed the void you had left.
He clenched his fists, nails biting into palms, forcing his breath steady as his eyes squeezed shut, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he willed the phantom away.
Duty. Clan. Future.
The mantra repeated, a shield against the erosion but the cracks persisted, widening with every heartbeat of his.
In the days that followed, the preparations intensified. Alayni flitted about with renewed purpose, her laughter ringing clearer as she helped Neytiri select ceremonial beads, her fingers deftly sorting the vibrant strands. Neteyam joined when required, his presence a steady anchor amid the festivities, but his smiles were rare, reserved for elders and children who demanded them.
Jake pulled him aside once, during a strategy session by the war council, his father's hand heavy on his shoulder voice gruff with concern, eyes searching his son's face for the boy he remembered. "Son, whatever haunts you, face it. Don't let it consume the leader you're becoming."
Neteyam met his gaze evenly, the golden depths unyielding as his shoulders squared with a nod crisp and final. "It's handled, sir. The clan comes first."
But as he walked away, the forest closing around him like a living shroud, the ache resurfaced again as a persistent whisper of what might have been, tangled forever in the undergrowth of his resolve.
Hours went by, the eclipse had long since painted the sky in deep indigo, the bioluminescent vines along the village platforms casting a soft ethereal glow that did little to ease the knot of worry twisting in Neytiri's chest.
She lay beside Jake in their marui, the rhythmic rise and fall of his broad back a testament to the exhaustion of leadership, his braided kuru draped loosely over the woven mat. But sleep eluded her, her golden eyes flicking toward the entrance flap, where the night sounds of Pandora filtered in.
Neteyam was late, far past the hour warriors returned from solitary vigils or patrols. Her eldest, the pillar of their family, had become a ghost in his own home, his steps silent and his words fewer than the stars above.
With a quiet resolve, she rose, her lithe form unfolding gracefully, the faint scars from old battles tracing faint lines along her arms like maps of survival. She draped a light shawl over her shoulders, the fabric whispering against her azure skin, and slipped out into the cooling air. The village slumbered, maruis dimly lit by inner fires, but her hunter's instincts guided her toward the outer platforms, where the great tree's roots intertwined with the earth.
There, perched on a low branch overlooking the valley, she found him. Neteyam with his back to her, broad shoulders slumped under the weight of invisible burdens. He stared upward, the starlight reflecting in the wet trails of tears carving paths down his cheeks, his golden eyes distant and shattered.
Her heart clenched like a fist around a thorn, a sharp ache blooming as she witnessed tears streaming freely from the face of her unbreakable son. In all her years, through battles and losses, she had never seen him cry. Not as a fierce young warrior facing his first hunt, not even when Kiri's visions had shaken the family to its core. These past weeks, he had been a hollow vessel, his laughter silenced, his touch withdrawn, but this vulnerability cracked the shell wide open, exposing the raw wound beneath.
She approached softly, her bare feet padding against the mossy wood, and wrapped her arms around him from behind, pulling his solid frame against her chest.
"My son." She murmured, her voice a gentle caress laced with sorrow, her chin resting on his shoulder, braids brushing his ear as she held him close. "What ails you? Speak to your sa'nok."
Neteyam sighed, a heavy exhale that carried the weight of unspoken tempests, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He leaned into her embrace, the tension in his neck easing fractionally, but words remained locked behind clenched teeth.
How could she understand?
The gravity of his love for you, a Mangkwan woman, an enemy incarnate had pulled at him like an undertow, drowning his sense of self. Each day chipped away at his resolve, the choice between duty to clan and the selfish pull of his heart a torment that left him adrift. He was losing pieces of himself in the effort to bury the ache, to forge ahead as the future Olo'eyktan.
"I am tired." He finally whispered, his voice cracking as he wiped at his face with the back of his hand, the muscles in his jaw flexing as fresh tears welled. "I cannot do this anymore, Mom. The weight... it's crushing me."
Neytiri's heart fractured further at his confession, the raw despair in his tone echoing the cries of a wounded ikran. She tightened her hold, her arms encircling his torso, fingers splaying across the firm planes of his abdomen as if to anchor him to the world.
She had suspected for weeks that this shadow over him stemmed from you, the woman who had been his captive, the one whose escape had coincided with his unraveling. Whispers of your name in council meetings, the way his gaze sharpened at mentions of Mangkwan movements, it all pointed to a bond forged in secrecy and strife. But she said nothing, offering only the silent strength of her presence, her tail curling protectively around his leg. In the quiet, she sent a fervent prayer to Eywa, her mind weaving pleas through the neural network of the land.
Great Mother, guide my son through this storm. There must be purpose in his pain, a path unseen amid the chaos.
The night deepened around them, mother and son entwined in shared silence, until exhaustion finally claimed him, his head lolling against her shoulder. Neytiri guided him back to the marui, her steps steady despite the turmoil churning within.
Soon, dawn broke with the first calls of prolemuris swinging through the canopy, painting the forest in hues of gold and green. Neteyam rose with the sun, his face a mask once more, his eyes hooded and expression schooled into impassive resolve.
Today, duty demanded he scout the eastern fringes, perilously close to the glades where he had first glimpsed you weeks ago, your form a vision of lethal grace amid the raid's fury. He had avoided those paths like a festering wound but intelligence from outriders reported Mangkwan activity stirring anew and evasion was no longer an option.
He joined Jake and Neytiri at the ikran roost, along with a cadre of warriors.
Neytiri watched him from afar as he checked his bowstring, the morning light catching the subtle sheen of sweat on his brow from the humid air. Memories of the previous night flooded her, the vulnerability in his tears, the plea in his voice and now, seeing him revert to this emotionless sentinel, her worry deepened like roots delving into soil. His movements were precise and efficient but there was no spark, no anticipation in his posture.
Alayni hovered at the periphery, her presence a flutter of nervous energy amid the preparations. She had risen early, her cheeks flushed with the thrill of impending union, and now she approached Neteyam with a sway in her step, the beads of her top clinking softly. Without hesitation, she pressed her lips to his cheek, the kiss lingering a beat too long, her hand brushing the curve of his arm, voice soft and adoring, eyes sparkling with feigned innocence as she pulled back slightly.
"Stay safe, Neteyam. Come back to me whole."
He nodded, the motion mechanical, his golden eyes sliding past her without warmth, fixed instead on the horizon.
Neytiri observed the exchange, her tail flicking in subtle disapproval, the contrast between Alayni's eagerness and her son's detachment a stark reminder of the fractures in his spirit and the duty they had handed to him.
The group saddled their ikrans, the massive creatures rumbling with impatience, wings unfurling like sails in the breeze. Neteyam mounted with fluid ease, his thighs gripping the creature's sides, the bond forming through their queues in a pulse of shared intent. With a collective cry, they ascended, the wind whipping through braids and loincloths as the forest shrank below, giving way to the vast expanse of floating mountains and vine-draped cliffs.
The skies were clear at first, the patrol weaving through thermal updrafts, Jake leading with hand signals sharp and commanding.
But peace shattered like fragile crystal, an ambush erupting from the clouds and the forest below, Mangkwan warriors on their own direhorses and winged mounts descending in a hail of fire-arrows and poisoned barbs. Flames licked at the air, ignited by incendiary tips, while the sharp whistle of shafts cut through the roar of wings.
Neytiri and Jake unleashed war cries that echoed across the valleys, primal and fierce, their ikrans diving into the fray. Neteyam clenched his teeth, the familiar surge of battle adrenaline sharpening his senses, but beneath it thrummed a deeper tension, his heart pounding not just from the clash, but from the scan of faces below, searching for yours amid the chaos.
No sign of you and the absence twisted like a knife at him. Disappointment that you weren't there for him to see once more and yet relief that you remained untouched by this violence.
He urged his ikran higher, bow drawn in a blur, arrows flying true to fell two attackers in mid-air, their bodies plummeting with guttural cries.
On the ground, Neytiri broke from the aerial skirmish, her ikran landing with a thud amid the underbrush as she spotted Varang, her form a whirlwind of aggression with war paint streaking her face in crimson patterns.
They clashed blades, Neytiri's movements a dance of lethal precision, her body twisting to evade a swipe snarling with protective fury, eyes blazing as she parried, the clash of metal ringing like thunder. Jake and the other warriors followed suit, dropping to engage the Mangkwan foot soldiers, the forest erupting into a symphony of grunts, screams, and the sizzle of flames devouring foliage.
Neteyam circled above, his ikran banking sharply to loose another volley, the wind tearing at his queue as he targeted a rider closing on Kiri's position.
It was going well, the Omatikaya numbers swelling as reinforcements crested a ridge until a shadow flickered in his periphery. An arrow, swift and unerring, punched into his chest just below the collarbone, the impact a searing bloom of agony that stole his breath. His grip faltered, the bow slipping from numb fingers, and he tumbled from his ikran, the world spinning in a vortex of sky and green.
Neytiri gasped, her head snapping upward mid-fight, horror etching her features as she saw her son plummeting as a dark silhouette against the sun. Jake's roar joined hers, raw and desperate as his face contorted in dread, fists clenching around his knife as he shouted orders to cover.
Neteyam fell far, the ground rushing up mercilessly as his body slammed into the earth with a sickening thud, head bouncing against a root, his vision exploding in stars before blackness edged in.
"Neteyam!" Neytiri's scream tore from her throat, a mother's anguish that pierced the din of battle.
The spot where he fell into was an inferno's cradle, flames from stray arrows encircling the clearing, vines crackling and popping as they fed the blaze. Smoke billowed thick and acrid and without intervention, the fire would claim him, his labored breaths already ragged from the embedded shaft and the impact of the fall.
You arrived on the fringes of the skirmish, the scene unfolding like a nightmare etched in firelight. Your eyes widened at the sight, Neteyam crumpled amid the chaos, his chest heaving around the protruding arrow, blood staining the azure expanse of his torso in rivulets that soaked his harness. Your heart clenched as a vise of unwelcomed emotion squeezed it tight, the pulse of it echoing in your ears over the clash of weapons. Torn, you gripped your bow tighter, gaze flicking to your sister locked in combat with Neytiri then to your warriors pressing the attack.
Aid them, your people and your blood or the enemy who had haunted your thoughts, his touch a ghost that lingered in fevered dreams?
He's the enemy. Let him burn, let the flames erase the complication he brought to my life.
You turned your back, the wind catching the loose strands of your braids, whipping them across your face like accusations. But your body halted, muscles locking as if Eywa herself rooted you in place.
You couldn't—wouldn't—leave him to this end.
The weight of what passed between you, the tangled web of resentment and reluctant pull, demanded closure. This would be the last, a one final act to sever the thread, to walk away unburdened. With a curse under your breath, you ran to him, your legs carrying you through the underbrush.
The heat battered you as you reached the flames' edge, the air shimmering with intensity but you plunged in, hauling his weighty form by the arms. His body was heavy, limp yet solid, shoulders broad and unyielding even in unconsciousness, the corded strength of his arms dragging across the scorched earth.
You pulled him free, grunting with effort, the muscles in your back flexing under the strain. Laying him on clearer ground, you assessed the damage. The arrow jutting from his chest, fletching charred at the edges, blood pulsing steadily from the wound, soaking the ground in dark pools.
You bit your lip, the sharp sting grounding you as concern warred with caution.
The severity was dire, his pulse thready under your probing fingers. But you were not just a mere warrior, you were also a healer and a tsakarem, healing coursed through your veins like the forest's lifeblood even with the violence in your being.
Kneeling beside him, your hands moved with practiced urgency, pressing woven leaves from your pouch against the entry to staunch the flow, murmuring ancient invocations to Eywa for mercy. The herbs' bitter scent mingled with the metallic tang of blood, your fingers smeared crimson as you worked, the curve of your neck arching forward in concentration, eyes fierce with determination.
Varang spotted you from across the fray, her snarl twisting her features mid-clash with Neytiri, eyes narrowing in disbelief and fury voice booming over the din, laced with betrayal as she parried a strike. "(Y/N)! What are you doing? Come, we have to leave!"
Neytiri, locked in the duel, glanced toward the sound, her gaze landing on you bent over her son, a flicker of stunned gratitude warring with the battle's rage in her.
More Omatikaya warriors surged forward, tipping the scales, forcing the Mangkwan to retreat.
You didn't turn, didn't acknowledge the call. Your focus absolute, hands pressing firmly to seal the wound, willing his life to hold.
Varang shot you one last glare, venomous and pained, before snarling at Neytiri with a guttural promise of unfinished business and then she signaled the fall back. Her warriors melted into the trees, their forms thundering away, leaving the air thick with smoke and the echo of conflict.
Your focus narrowed to the rise and fall of Neteyam's chest, each shallow breath a fragile tether to life, the arrow's shaft now crudely bound but the wound beneath pulsing with insistent threat. Sweat beaded along your temple, tracing a cool path down the arch of your cheekbone, your eyes locked on his face, the sharp angles softened in unconsciousness, the full curve of his lips parted as if in silent plea.
You didn't notice the delicate swirl of an atokirina, that ethereal seed of Eywa, drifting lazily on an unseen current, hovering above you both like a benediction unspoken.
Neytiri saw it, though. Her golden gaze catching the pale spinner as it lingered, a luminous point against the hazy sky, before floating onward. Her breath hitched, a profound shiver rippling through her frame, her shoulders seeming to pulse in quiet awe.
Eywa's will.
She broke from the fray with Jake at her side, their footfalls urgent through the trampled ferns, weapons still gripped tight but lowered in the face of this revelation.
You sensed their approach before you saw them, the rustle of leaves and the heavy cadence of warrior steps pulling your attention. Instinct flared of enemies closing in and you hissed low, a feral sound vibrating from your throat as you shifted away from Neteyam, your body coiling like a viper ready to strike. Your tail lashed behind you, the tip slicing the air with agitation, while your fingers twitched toward the knife at your hip, the leather sheath warm against your hip bone.
They were still foes, the Omatikaya who had chained you and humiliated you and you'd meet them with fangs bared, your toned legs braced against the earth, ready to spring.
Jake opened his mouth, his broad jaw setting with the intent to command, but Neytiri's voice cut through first, steady and resonant, her eyes fierce yet softened by gratitude, one hand extended palm-up in a gesture of uneasy truce. "You will come with us."
He paused, confusion flickering across his scarred features, but he moved without protest, kneeling to gather Neteyam's limp form. The future leader's weight sagged in his father's arms, head lolling against Jake's shoulder, the azure skin of his neck exposed in vulnerable slackness.
Other warriors converged, their ikrans circling low with throaty calls, assisting as Jake hoisted Neteyam toward the nearest mount, muscles bulging under the strain along his arms and back, the harness straps digging into his flesh.
You snarled at Neytiri, the sound raw and defiant, your tail flicking sharper now, brushing against the back of your calves as your fangs glinted in the dappled light. Your posture was rigid with suspicion as you rose to your full height, the beaded strands of your top shifting with the heave of your chest. "I will not be your captive again. Touch me and I'll carve my freedom from your hides."
Neytiri regarded you, her own tail curling thoughtfully at her side, the fire in your eyes mirroring the unyielding spark she knew from her own youth, the same blaze that had drawn Jake to her across clan lines.
Mercy stirred in her chest, unbidden and perplexing. Was it the debt of your aid to her son or the atokirina's silent sign that compelled her?
She straightened, her silhouette cutting a commanding figure against the fading smoke, voice firm and laced with an undercurrent of respect as she turned toward her ikran. "You will not be captive. You saved him, pulled him from Eywa's grasp. I believe the Great Mother has plans. Come, you waste time."
Suspicion coiled tight in your gut, a serpent ready to strike, yet beneath it hummed an inexplicable pull. A whisper urging yes, born of exhaustion, of the chaos you'd wrought by choosing him over your kin.
You hissed once more, baring your fangs in a final warning as your lips curled back, the sharp points catching the light as your ears flattened against your skull. "Lie to me and I will not hesitate to draw my blade even if it means my end."
She met your gaze without flinching, recognizing the kindred fire, the warrior's unbreaking will. With a nod, she mounted her ikran, the bond queue connecting in a soft neural sigh, wings unfurling with a leathery snap.
You approached cautiously, every sense alert. The warmth of the creature's hide under your palms as you swung up behind her, your thighs clamping around its sides, the curve of your hips settling against Neytiri's back. The ascent was swift, wind tearing at your braids, carrying the scent of singed earth and distant rain as the group soared towards their home.
The village emerged like a living tapestry below.
Jake dismounted first upon landing, Neteyam's body cradled securely in his arms, the young warrior's limbs dangling limply, blood crusting along the wound's edges. He ran toward Mo'at's healing marui, feet pounding the woven platforms, Neytiri and you following at a urgent pace.
Eyes turned as you passed, Omatikaya faces hardening at the sight of your Mangkwan markings, the ash remnants of war paint streaking your arms and thighs, whispers rippling like wind through reeds. You ignored them, chin lifted defiantly, your strides long and purposeful, the sway of your hips fluid despite the knot of unease in your belly.
Inside the marui, the air hung thick with the aroma of medicinal pastes and smoldering herbs, shelves lined with jars of glowing extracts. Mo'at moved with ancient grace, her wrinkled skin etched with the wisdom of seasons, drawing Neteyam onto a low pallet woven from supple vines. Her hands, gnarled yet precise, peeled back the hasty bandages you'd applied, assessing the damage with a cluck of her tongue as her eyes narrowed in concentration, fingers probing the inflamed flesh around the arrow's path.
You shifted uncomfortably near the entrance, arms crossed over your chest, the soft swell of your breasts pressing against the crossed forearms, your bare midriff taut with tension.
What madness had brought you here, into the heart of enmity? Why save this man, the one whispered to be bound to another in mating rites, his future woven without you?
Once assured of his survival, you'd slip away, beg for Varang's mercy, atone for the betrayal etched in your choice to heal, to drag him from flames.
Neytiri noticed the storm brewing in your eyes, the way your shoulders hunched slightly under invisible weight. She guided you to a woven mat beside her, her touch light on your elbow as she settled cross-legged.
"Sit. The weight you carry shows in your eyes."
Jake hovered nearby, his confusion etched in the furrow of his brow, arms still bearing faint smears of his son's blood as he glanced between you and Neytiri, tone edged with bewilderment. "Neytiri, why bring her? She's Mangkwan, an enemy blood in our home."
Mo'at's voice rose then, steady and authoritative, cutting the tension as she worked a poultice into the wound her movements rhythmic, the paste's earthy scent filling the space. "He is in critical condition. The arrow pierced deep, nicking the lung's edge. Without the temporary aid to stem the bleeding, he would have crossed to Eywa's embrace already."
Both parents turned to you, realization dawning as Neytiri's gaze held quiet thanks, Jake's a grudging respect.
"And the head trauma is severe, his skull bruised from the fall so visions may haunt him upon waking. He will recover but stress must be barred from his path. No extremes of anger or despair, lest the balance tip and fracture his spirit. Do not put him in situations where he will experience such."
Jake and Neytiri nodded solemnly, Jake's hand squeezing his mate's shoulder, resolve hardening his features. "We'll guard him like the tree itself."
You sat quietly, the breath easing from your lungs in a slow sigh of relief, your fingers unclenching from where they'd dug into your palms, leaving crescent marks on the soft pads.
He would live, the man whose golden eyes had pierced your defenses, whose touch lingered like a forbidden echo.
Neytiri looked at you then, not through the lens of a deadly warrior but as a mother whose heart swelled with gratitude, her expression softening, the lines around her eyes crinkling with unspoken emotion. "You have our thanks. Your hands brought him back to us."
Rising, you met her gaze steadily, your voice even despite the turmoil tail curling loosely at your feet, posture straightening with resolve. "He breathes. My part is done. I will leave now before your people remembers what I am."
She shook her head gently as her braids swayed, tone insistent yet kind, a hand gesturing to the marui's depths. "Stay the night. The forest paths grow treacherous after battle and dawn will light your way clearer. Tomorrow, go with Eywa's guidance."
Hesitation gripped you as visions of Varang's wrath flashed along with her snarl of betrayal but the offer Neytiri gave bought time, a buffer against the storm you'd unleashed. You nodded curtly, the motion causing a loose braid to slip over your shoulder, brushing the gentle slope of your collarbone.
Mo'at interjected, her voice carrying the weight of authority as she pointed to a partitioned alcove, the entrance draped in soft kelp weaves. "There is space in the marui for you. Rest there, no harm under this roof will fall upon you."
You inclined your head uncomfortably, the unfamiliar kindness chafing like ill-fitted armor, and retreated to the indicated area.
The partition muffled the outer sounds, but voices filtered in with familiar cadences of concern, perhaps Neteyam's siblings clustering with worried murmurs or that scheming Alayni's honeyed tones probing for weakness.
You sighed deeply, sinking onto the low sleeping platform, the woven fibers cool against your skin. Gazing at your hands, still faintly stained with his blood and nails chipped from the frantic extraction, you felt the weight crash down.
What have I done?
Varang's face loomed in your mind, her loyalty unyielding and yet you betrayed her, your blood for him. A traitor in your own eyes, cast adrift by a mercy you couldn't explain, the contours of your form curling inward as doubt gnawed at your thoughts.
The first light of dawn filtered through the woven walls of the marui, casting a soft glow that danced across the kelp partitions like whispers from the great tree itself.
You stirred from a fitful sleep, the platform beneath you cradling the subtle curves of your body with its resilient fibers, though no true rest had really come.
The air hummed with distant murmurs, low voices laced with concern, the rustle of movements that spoke of vigil. Neteyam's family, no doubt, gathered in their quiet desperation.
Your eyelids fluttered open, eyes adjusting to the dim interior, a stray lock of ebony hair falling across your forehead, brushing the high plane of your cheek as you sat up. The faint ache in your muscles from the previous day's chaos lingered, a reminder of the flames you'd pulled him from, your frame still bearing the subtle smudges of ash along your arms and the line of your neck.
Pushing aside the drape with a steady hand, you stepped into the main chamber, the cool floor mats yielding under your bare feet, toes curling slightly against the texture. There they were, clustered around Neteyam's pallet. Neytiri's poised form kneeling closest, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on his azure skin, while Jake stood sentinel nearby, his broad shoulders tense.
The siblings hovered at the edges, Tuk's small hands fidgeting with a beaded string, Lo'ak's jaw set in watchful silence, and Kiri sitting to the side with a faraway look.
You remembered them from his stories when he was pestering you and you remembered how you tried so hard to tune him out as you rolled your eyes.
Neteyam's chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, his features serene in repose, full lips slightly parted as if dreaming of battles yet unfought.
Your gaze locked with Neytiri's across the space, her golden eyes holding a depth of unspoken understanding, the faint lines at their corners deepening as she rose fluidly. The others' stares prickled your skin. They were curious and wary, the weight of enmity pressing like unseen hands, save for Jake whose attention remained fixed on his son, oblivious or perhaps deliberately so.
You held your ground, chin lifting subtly, the soft undulation of your torso accentuated by the morning light as it played over the beaded strands draping your chest.
Her voice emerged, a hand extending in quiet invitation as she closed the distance, the warmth of her presence cutting through the chill of suspicion. "Are you about to head out? The paths await but let me see you safely beyond our borders."
You nodded once, the motion causing your braids to shift, one grazing the delicate hollow of your throat.
Before words could form, her fingers encircled your wrist, firm but not forceful, the calluses of a huntress brushing your smoother skin. "Okay, I'll take you with my ikran. The skies are clearer at this hour."
Together, you moved toward the exit, your steps synchronized in wary alliance, the chamber's herbal scents fading behind you. Halfway there, Tuk's voice pierced the air like a sudden arrow, high-pitched with unbridled joy as her tiny frame bounced as she pointed, eyes wide with wonder.
"Neteyam! You're awake!"
Neytiri gasped beside you, a sharp intake that reverberated through her body, her grip tightening momentarily on your arm before releasing as she whirled, long legs carrying her back in a blur of urgency. His family converged instantly, a protective circle forming around the pallet, voices overlapping in a cacophony of relief.
Jake's baritone cut through as his hand raised in caution, posture rigid as he scanned his children's eager faces. "Easy, give him space. Let him breathe."
You didn't turn, didn't allow the pull of curiosity to drag you back.
Relief flickered in your chest that he lived, that his spirit is unbroken but seeing him now, vulnerable and surrounded by their bond, stirred too much. Your tail flicked once, a subtle lash against your calf, as you fixed your gaze on the exit, the woven flap beckoning like freedom's edge.
A groan echoed from the pallet, low and pained, followed by Neytiri's voice, thick with emotion as tears glistened on her lashes then spilling down the curve of her cheek as she cupped his face, her thumbs tracing the strong line of his jaw.
"Ma Teyam, my child, you're awake. Eywa has returned you to us."
Neteyam's first words hung in the air, raspy yet insistent, freezing you mid-step as his voice threaded confusion and longing, golden eyes blinking open to search the faces around him. "Where's my mate?"
Your heart clenched like a fist around a thorned vine, a sharp twist that stole your breath, the muscles of your back tensing beneath the thin straps of your top.
He meant her, that conniving soft-spoken healer, the one fate had chained him to.
The betrayal you'd wrought for his sake soured further, urging you toward escape, but Neytiri remained entangled in the moment, her form a barrier you couldn't breach without drawing eyes.
He spoke again, urgency sharpening his tone as he propped himself up slightly on one elbow, the defined planes of his abdomen flexing under the strain, beads of sweat gathering along his collarbone. "Where is my mate? Why is she not here? Where is (Y/N)?"
Silence crashed over the marui like a sudden storm, thick and suffocating, broken only by the faint crackle of a nearby incense burner. You couldn't believe the words echoing in your ears. Your name on his lips like a claim, a delusion born of fever or fracture. His family still shielded him, their bodies a living wall, blocking any chance of his gaze finding you.
What madness gripped him?
Jake broke the hush, his voice measured, laced with concern as he kneeled closer, one large hand resting on Neteyam's shoulder, fingers splaying across the flesh there. "Kid, what do you mean mate? Talk to me, clear your head."
Neteyam frowned, confusion etching furrows across his forehead, his ears twitching slightly as he tilted his head, the kuru at his back shifting against the pallet as he scanned the circle of faces. "Huh? She's my mate. What do you mean what do I mean, Dad? We chose each other, it is done."
Neytiri exchanged a fleeting glance with Jake, her expression a mask of reassurance as she smiled gently, though her eyes held a storm of questions as she leaned in, her braids falling forward to brush his arm. "What's the last thing you remember, Ma Teyam? Tell your sa'nok, help us understand."
He groaned again, wincing as he pressed a hand to his temple, his fingers threading through his hair as his voice faltered, piecing together fragments like scattered leaves.
"We were together in the forest... deep in the glade, away from eyes. We mated, bound our kuru. I remember the warmth of her, falling asleep in her arms... then nothing. I woke up now. Why am I here? Where is she?"
Jake's mouth parted, words forming on the edge of his tongue but Neytiri's hand clamped onto his forearm, urgent and unyielding as her nails digged lightly into his skin, a silent reminder of her mother's grave warning, her gaze flicking to the tsahik for affirmation.
No stress, no shadows to cloud his fragile recovery.
Mo'at inclined her head subtly from her perch nearby, her weathered features serene, the wisdom in her eyes underscoring the peril of truths unspoken.
However, shock rippled through you like a current, your pulse thundering in your ears, the arch of your neck flushing with heat.
What sorcery had befallen this demon blood?
The forest encounter, the stolen touches, and the heated whispers had been a fever dream of his desire, not a true bonding. Yet here he proclaimed it as reality, your name woven into his delirium.
Your fingers curled at your sides, nails biting into palms, the soft pads whitening under pressure.
Jake rose then, his frame casting a long shadow as he leaned toward Neytiri whispering low, his jaw clenched in resolve. "I'll get Norm, let him scan the boy's head, figure out what's twisted in there."
He straightened, striding past you with purposeful steps.
You shifted sideways instinctively, pressing against the wall's curve, your body folding into the shadows to evade Neteyam's searching eyes, the faint scent of his blood still clinging to your skin like a ghost.
The drape parted again, admitting Alayni in a rush of hurried grace, her form halting abruptly at the sight of you lingering near the threshold. Her face fell, features draining of color, eyes widening in a flash of alarm as her lips parted in silent accusation, her tail coiling tight behind her as panic etched sharp lines around her mouth.
What is she doing here?
The enemy in their sanctum, everyone would know her schemes, the whispers of betrayal she'd sown.
You couldn't suppress the satisfied smirk curling your lips, a predatory glint in your gaze as you savored the tremor in her composure, the way her fingers twisted the hem of her wrap.
She glared daggers, a venomous spark in her eyes, before hurrying inside voice pitched with concern, dropping to her knees beside the pallet, her hand reached out to caress his cheek, nails grazing the smooth azure expanse. "Neteyam, are you okay? We've been so worried—"
He recoiled at her touch, jerking back with a hiss as his body tensed, shoulders hunching as if her fingers burned, golden eyes narrowing in instinctive rejection. "Don't touch me. My mate would not like that, keep your hands to yourself."
Alayni froze, confusion clouding her features as she glanced around the circle, her posture crumbling slightly. The gentle swell of her chest heaving with rapid breaths, seeking answers in their stunned expressions. First, you're here like some honored guest, unwatched and unchained and now Neteyam denying their bond, as if the ceremonies planned for days hence meant nothing.
"What do you mean? You have no mate, Neteyam. We will be mated in several days. It's all arranged, for the clan—"
His stare was blank and unyielding as he leaned away further, the muscles along his arms corded with tension, voice flat with conviction that brooked no argument. "I am mated, Alayni. Do not disrespect me and her by saying that. I've chosen, Eywa witnessed it."
Alayni's mouth opened for protest, words tumbling forth in a desperate rush as her hands gestured wildly but Lo'ak's fingers closed around her wrist, firm and ungentle, his grip steady as he pulled her back with a warning growl low in his throat.
"Enough, let him rest. You're making it worse."
Neytiri forced a smile then, thin and strained as she rose to her full height, her frame interposing as she pried Alayni from Lo'ak's hold, guiding her toward the entrance with a maternal hand on her shoulder.
She had once favored the girl.
Her respectful demeanor, the sweet softness that promised stability for her son, the shy affections that bloomed like night flowers. It was why she'd championed the union, envisioning harmony in their future. But now, Alayni's invasiveness grated, a threat to the delicate balance of Neteyam's healing. What she'd once seen as endearing now loomed as disruption, especially with the girl's recent clinginess fraying nerves that are already taut.
Her tone remained even, laced with polite finality as she steered Alayni through the drape, the fabric whispering against their forms. "Go now, child, rest and prepare for the day's duties. He'll need quiet to mend, we'll call when he's stronger."
Alayni resisted briefly, a flicker of indignation in her eyes, but Neytiri's unyielding gaze quelled it. As she was ushered out, you caught her eye from behind Neytiri's shoulder, your smirk deepening into something triumphant as your lips curved wickedly, the sharp tips of your fangs peeking as you watched her retreat.
Stupid bitch, starting to pay her karma.
The satisfaction bloomed warm in your chest, a counter to the earlier ache at the unraveling the web she'd spun.
The marui's air thickened with the scent of medicinal herbs and lingering tension as footsteps approached from beyond the drape. The flap parted with a soft rustle, admitting Jake first followed by a figure that made your eyes narrow in instinctive distrust.
He was another of those sky people avatars, shorter and bulkier than the Na'vi around him, with blue skin stretched over an unfamiliar musculature, his movements jerky and mechanical as he hauled a satchel bulging with strange, gleaming devices. In your eyes, he was just another demon in disguise, his eyes too round and probing behind a mask of false familiarity.
Neteyam's family parted slightly to allow them access, his golden gaze widening in confusion propping himself up on his elbows despite the wince that tugged at his full lips, the cords of his neck straining as he tilted his head.
"Dad? Norm? What's all this?" His voice carried a mix of bewilderment and faint alarm, the sharp angles of his shoulders tensing beneath the thin covering draped over his torso.
Jake placed a reassuring hand on his son's arm, the gesture firm yet gentle. "Just a check-up, son. Norm here's gonna make sure everything's healing right, no big deal."
Norm nodded efficiently, unpacking his tools with practiced haste. A handheld scanner humming to life, its blue light flickering like captured bioluminescence, and thin probes that beeped softly as they connected to Neteyam's temple and chest. The warrior submitted with reluctant patience, his ears flicking at each unfamiliar sensation as his chest rose and fell in shallow rhythms, the bandaged expanse over his ribs shifting with each breath.
You remained unseen, a ghost in the periphery, gratitude coiling in your gut that he hadn't glimpsed you yet, sparing you the complication of his fractured gaze.
The assessment dragged on, Norm murmuring readings under his breath, Jake hovering like a sentinel. Finally, they withdrew, the group filing out into the humid morning air. Norm repacking his gear with a satisfied grunt, Mo'at gliding behind with her staff tapping rhythmically, Neytiri close at her heel, her posture a blend of maternal poise and veiled anxiety.
Curiosity tugged at you drawing your steps toward the exit despite the risk. You hovered just inside, the soft swell of your hips swaying faintly as you strained to catch their words, the faint breeze carrying snippets through the kelp weave.
Norm's voice filtered back, clinical and detached gesturing vaguely at the air as if diagramming an invisible wound.
"Selective amnesia, most likely from the trauma to his skull. Concussions like that can scramble memories, make him fill in gaps with what his mind wants to believe. It'll probably clear up with rest but no pushing him. Avoid contradictions, let it fade naturally."
Mo'at's response came sharp and authoritative, her aged frame straightening one hand raised in admonition. "Precisely. No stress, Jake Sully. His spirit is fragile as fresh-woven thread, negative winds could unravel it further."
Jake glanced over his shoulder then, his eyes locking onto yours through the partial drape.
You met his stare blankly, your expression a mask of cool indifference, the line of your jaw set firm, lashes casting shadows over your irises.
He sighed heavily, the sound rumbling from his chest like distant thunder as he rubbed a hand over his hair before nodding to Mo'at. "Understood. Thanks, Norm. Appreciate you coming out here on short notice."
He clapped the avatar on the back, steering him toward the path, their forms receding into the foliage.
Mo'at turned fully to you then, her wrinkled features softening into a knowing smile as she extended a gnarled hand in gentle summons, the beads on her bracelets clinking softly. "Come, child. He searches for you. Eywa's threads bind him still even in confusion."
Hesitation rooted you for a beat, your bare feet shifting against the mat, toes flexing into the fibers as doubt warred with obligation. But you moved forward, weaving through the siblings' loose circle, your presence rippling the air like a stone in still water. Neytiri observed from the side, her arms crossed over her chest, the arch of her back rigid with unspoken calculations.
Neteyam's eyes ignited at the sight of you, a spark of pure recognition and warmth flooding their golden depths as his face brightened, the corners of his mouth lifting in a boyish smile that crinkled the skin around his eyes. "Baby, where have you been? I've been calling for you. Come here, let me see you."
Words failed you, caught in the tangle of your throat like thorns. Your pulse quickened, the delicate skin at your wrists flushing as you glanced desperately at Neytiri. She stepped in seamlessly, her voice a soothing murmur kneeling beside him. "She was just helping Mo'at with some herbs, Ma Teyam. Nothing to worry over. You're safe now, all of us here."
He nodded absently, already shifting to rise as his elbows dug into the padding, his torso twisting with intent, the play of muscles along his flanks evident even through the strain. But a sharp hiss escaped him as pain lanced through his chest. He glanced down, fingers probing the white bandages wrapped taut around his ribs, tracing the edges where faint bloodstains bloomed, his brow furrowing in dawning alarm.
"What happened? Why am I... like this?"
Neytiri's response flowed quick and fabricated, her tail flicking once in reassurance as she pressed him back gently, palms flat against his shoulders. "A minor fall during a hunt, nothing more. You're mending well but rest is key. No straining this body of yours."
Lo'ak chimed in from his perch nearby, his tone laced with concern as he leaned forward, one hand hovering as if ready to steady him. "Yeah bro, don't push it. You've been out cold, give yourself a break."
Tuk, unable to contain her awe any longer, stared up at you with unabashed wonder, her small fingers twisting in her lap, round cheeks dimpling as she beamed, the innocence in her voice cutting through the heaviness.
"You're pretty like the glowing vines at night."
Neteyam caught the words, his grin widening into something radiant and possessive as he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest despite the wince it provoked, his gaze raking over you with unabashed adoration. "She is, isn't she? Eywa blessed me beyond measure with the most beautiful woman as my mate."
Heat bloomed across your cheeks, a traitorous warmth that clashed with the snarl building in your chest. Your fangs ached to bare but Neytiri's sharp glance pinned you, her eyes narrowing imperceptibly, a silent command as she rose.
"I'll speak with her first, important matters."
She drew you aside into a quieter nook, the privacy of the woven screen shielding your exchange, her sigh heavy with exhaustion as her shoulders slumped slightly, the taper of her ears drooping as she met your eyes. "Please, play along just until his memories return. It's a delicate weave we're threading here."
A hiss bubbled up, low and frustrated, your claws flexing at your sides, a flicker of resentment darkening your features.
This wasn't the plan. It was only saving him from the flames and slipping away into the wilds. But now pretending this farce of a bond?
It deepened the chasm with Varang, a blade twisted further into your sister's trust, your loyalty fracturing like dry earth under storm.
Yet you exhaled sharply, the breath stirring the beads at your throat. "Just for today then I'll leave. I've lingered too long already, debts are paid."
Gratitude softened Neytiri's gaze, her hand squeezing your forearm in quiet alliance. "Thank you. Eywa sees your heart."
Eywa, their false goddess.
You refrained from speaking it and returned to the pallet together, his siblings' eyes tracking your approach.
Mo'at interjected then, her voice carrying the weight of authority as she gestured toward the exit with her staff, the carved wood glinting. "He may leave the healing hut now. Rest in your family marui where care is close."
Neteyam's confusion creased his forehead anew as he tilted his head, his kuru swaying as he pushed to sit fully, ignoring the twinge in his side. "Why the family marui? I have our own, shared with my mate. That's where I belong, with her."
Neytiri froze for a heartbeat then mustered a feigned grin, her lips curving upward in playful conspiracy, though tension lined her jaw. "Oh yes, of course you can sleep there. Silly of us to forget."
Relief lit Neteyam's face, a grin splitting wide as he eased to his feet with Lo'ak's support, his brother's arm slung around his waist, the lean power of his legs steadying as he leaned into the aid.
You walked in silence beside Neytiri, your steps measured, the sway of your form guarded against his occasional glances.
She guided the group to a nearby empty marui, its entrance framed by dangling vines that swayed like welcoming tendrils, the interior sparse but inviting with a low cot piled with fresh furs.
"I'll bring your things later." Neytiri explained smoothly as she waved a hand at the empty space, her posture relaxed in fabrication. "You forgot them before, rushing off to tend to (Y/N). Always so devoted."
Neteyam nodded, his attention fixed on you. Golden eyes tracing the cascade of your braids down your back, the subtle glow of your skin under the filtered light, though you kept your gaze averted, fixed on the horizon.
Kiri approached then, her touch feather-light on your arm in a soft pat, wordless solidarity in her empathetic eyes before she stepped back.
Tuk waved enthusiastically as she bounced on her toes, her laughter bubbling. "Bye! Take care of him, he's grumpy when hurt!"
Lo'ak gave a curt nod and Neytiri mirroring it with a final meaningful look before they departed, leaving the marui's quiet to envelop you.
You lingered at the entrance, the woven threshold framing your silhouette, arms crossed over the gentle rise of your chest as Neteyam settled onto the cot, his form reclining against the bolsters, long legs stretching out, the bandage peeking from beneath his wrap as he watched you expectantly.
"Baby, what are you doing all the way over there? Come here. I've missed you too much already."
You restrained the urge to roll your eyes, the old grudge simmering within you. Alayni's shadow, the secrets he'd buried back then, it fueled a quiet fury that tightened your lips. With deliberate slowness, you crossed the space, perching on the cot's edge at a careful distance, the furs dipping under your weight, your thighs pressing together in restrained tension.
He frowned at the gap reaching out, his hand encircling your waist with insistent warmth, drawing you nearer until your hip brushed his, the heat of his body seeping through the thin barriers. "Why so far?"
Without waiting, he leaned in, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there before his lips pressed soft lingering pecks along the column of your throat, tracing the pulse that fluttered beneath.
You shifted away slightly, a hand rising to his chest, gentle but firm against the bandaged expanse to halt him. "You must not move so much, your wound will reopen if you keep this up."
"I don't care, the ache is nothing compared to being without you." He dismissed it with a low hum undeterred, nosing deeper and inhaling your scent like a lifeline, his free arm looping around your midriff to anchor you. "You always smell so good."
Your eyes rolled despite yourself, exasperation sharpening your tone as you leaned back just enough to create space, though his hold persisted. "Do you not listen? Rest means rest, not this."
A grin curved his lips, playful and unrepentant as his eyes sparkled with mischief. He tilted his head, the sharp line of his jaw brushing your shoulder. "I do listen but my mate is just so irresistible. How can I resist when you're right here, pulling me like the tide?"
The words ignited a storm within you. The urge to drive your claws into his chest, to end this delusion with finality, to flee into the jungle's embrace, and beneath it all, a treacherous pull to lean in, to claim those lips and drown the betrayal.
Your breath hitched, eyes flashing as your voice dropped to a warning growl. "If you do not stop, you will sleep in your family's marui tonight, without me."
He chuckled, the sound rich and affectionate, as he tugged you flush against him now, his head resting on your shoulder, one hand tracing idle patterns along your arm, savoring the silken texture of your skin. "I don't want to be away from you, ever. Even for a night. You're my world, (Y/N). Tell me you feel it too. The bond, the pull. We've always been this way, haven't we?"
You stiffened, the weight of his touches pressing like chains, his body molding to yours, warm and insistent, nuzzling closer as if to weave your scents together anew.
"Neteyam..." It came out softer than intended, a conflicted murmur as your hand hovered over his, torn between pushing away and letting it linger. "Just... be still. For now."
He hummed contentedly and undaunted, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone, his fingers interlacing with yours, thumb stroking the back of your hand in slow circles. "As you wish but I'm not letting go of you."
The marui fell into a charged hush, his affection a balm and a burden, the line between pretense and peril blurring with every shared breath.
You spent the entire day ensnared in Neteyam's unyielding embrace, his body a constant insistent presence against yours. He was every bit the spoiled brat his amnesia painted him to be. Demanding, playful, and utterly oblivious to the storm raging within you. From the moment the morning light had fully crested the horizon, he refused to release your hand, his fingers interlaced with yours in a grip that was both tender and possessive, the calluses on his palms rough against your smoother skin.
"Feed me." He murmured during the midday meal, his voice a low rumble and laced with mischief.
He propped himself up on one elbow, the lean muscles of his forearm flexing as he gestured to the woven basket of fruits and roasted kelp strips. His golden eyes sparkled with expectation, the sharp angles of his cheekbones highlighted by the soft luminescence filtering in. You hesitated, the curve of your shoulders tensing beneath the lightweight shawl draped over them, but his pout, lips pursing in exaggerated plea, drew a reluctant sigh from you.
Slicing a piece of sweetfruit with your knife, its juice glistening on the blade like dew, you held it to his mouth. He leaned forward eagerly but paused just before taking it. His breath warm against your fingertips, eyes locking onto yours with feigned innocence.
"A kiss first." He demanded softly, tilting his head so his kuru brushed your thigh. "For every bite. It's our thing, remember?"
Irritation flared hot in your chest, your free hand itching to deliver a sharp smack to that smug jawline as the taper of his ears twitched in anticipation. Yet, beneath the annoyance, a treacherous warmth bloomed low in your belly, spreading like sunlight through mist. His affection, fabricated or not, wrapped around you like the humid air itself. You leaned in grudgingly, pressing your lips to his in a brief chaste touch, your mouth soft against the firm warmth of his, the faint taste of herbs from his earlier tonic lingering.
He hummed in satisfaction, finally accepting the fruit, chewing slowly while his gaze never left your face.
This ritual repeated through the afternoon. Bite after bite, kiss after kiss, each one pulling you deeper into the pretense. His laughter bubbled up between mouthfuls, light and carefree as his chest vibrated with the sound, though he winced slightly when it jostled his bandaged ribs, the white wrapping stark against his azure skin.
"You're too good to me." He said after one particularly lingering peck, his hand sliding up your arm to trace the delicate ridge of your collarbone. "How did I ever deserve you, baby?"
You only answered with an eye roll, willing yourself to calm.
As the sun dipped lower, painting the interior in hues of amber and violet, he grew more reflective, his clinginess evolving into quiet confessions. He pulled you onto the furs beside him, your legs tangling with his as he recounted the day he first laid eyes on you, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, fingers idly stroking the cascade of your braids that spilled over your shoulder.
"It was during that raid, I thought you were the most beautiful creature Eywa ever wove, all fire and grace in one breath. Even with your blade at my throat, I couldn't look away."
Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged, your pulse thrumming in your ears as you absorbed his words. The memory twisted in your mind, the confrontation, the kiss that had ignited everything yet led to this tangled web. Finally, you broke the quiet, your voice steady despite the knot in your throat shifting slightly, the soft swell of your hips pressing into the furs as you turned to face him.
"What do you think of Alayni?"
He blinked, surprise flickering across his features, the smooth plane of his forehead creasing. "Alayni? She's... nice. She's been around since we were children, always helping with the young ones or joining hunts. Reliable, like a sister almost."
The answer hung there, innocuous yet loaded. You pressed further, curiosity sharpening your tone with your eyes narrowing, lashes casting faint shadows on your high cheekbones. "Do you like her?"
His eyes widened, golden irises flaring with incredulity, leaning back as if the question physically pushed him.
"Like her? How could you even ask that when I burn for you alone?" He shook his head, a soft laugh escaping him, though it carried an edge of disbelief. "She's shown her interest. Blushing around me, weaving extra beads for my gear but I don't see her that way. Never have. My heart's been yours from the start."
You wanted to roll your eyes, the truth bubbling beneath your restraint.
Oh yes, but you were set to mate her if fate hadn't intervened.
The words clawed at your tongue but you swallowed them, maintaining the fragile peace.
He studied your expression, a sly smile curving his lips as he reached out to cup your chin, thumb brushing the plush curve of your lower lip. "Are you jealous? Tell me baby, does it sting knowing others vied for me?"
A snarl ripped from your throat, low and feral as you bared your fangs briefly, the lines of your neck corded with tension as you pulled back from his touch. "No. Jealousy is for the weak. I'm merely curious about your tangled loyalties."
His smile deepened, brimming with adoration as his eyes softened, he drew you nearer, his broad palm splaying across the small of your back.
"Alayni was just one of the candidates my parents pushed before I met you. They thought her steady, a good match for a future Olo'eyktan." He paused, gaze distant, reliving the memory of when you left. "I came to the marui where you were that night, heart heavy because I'd just learned they'd chosen her. I didn't want it, I wanted you. So I went there to confess everything, to seek comfort in your arms but I saw you with her first. She told you, didn't she? But twisted it to make it seem like it was decided long ago, that I was playing you all along. She lied, (Y/N). It wasn't set in stone, I was ready to fight it from the moment I knew."
Your eyes grew wide, the revelation crashing over you, pupils dilating in shock as pieces clicked into place.
So he hadn't been deceiving you, not entirely. The betrayal you'd nursed, the fury at his supposed duplicity... it shifted, leaving a hollow ache in its wake.
"I almost went through with it, you know. Why you fled with your sister that night, she said you wanted nothing to do with me. I believed her, let the pain fester." He chuckled then, the sound bland and tinged with bitterness as his shoulders rolled in a shrug, the play of tendons in his neck visible as he tilted his head. "But then you came back, told me the truth... we mated, formed tsaheylu under the stars. It was perfect until I woke up like this with no recollection of why I'm bandaged."
The words hung false in the air, his mind's desperate weave to fill the voids. None of it had happened, the bond a phantom of his selective forgetfulness. Frustration boiled within you, a scream trapped behind clenched teeth, claws aching to rake through flesh, to lash out at the cruel irony.
But you schooled your features into neutrality, jaw setting firm as you met his gaze evenly. "I... see."
Undeterred by your reserve, he pulled you closer, nuzzling into the crook of your shoulder as his nose traced the sensitive hollow there, inhaling deeply as if committing your essence to memory. With a gentle tug, he guided you both down onto the furs. Mindful of his injury. you positioned carefully at his side, your head resting on the unbandaged plane of his shoulder, the rise and fall of his breathing syncing with yours.
"I see you." He whispered fervently, lips brushing your temple in soft reverent kisses, each one a feather-light promise. "Since the day you held that blade to my throat, your fire called to mine."
You bit your lip, the sharp sting grounding you amid the whirlwind, teeth pressing into the tender flesh, a faint metallic tang blooming as you held your silence.
His affection enveloped you like a cocoon, warm and suffocating, lulling the day into evening's embrace.
The next morning dawned with a hush, the first rays piercing the marui's weave before Neteyam's eyes fluttered open. You stirred early, slipping from his arms with the stealth of a shadow, your movements fluid and silent, the contours of your legs uncoiling as you rose, bare feet padding softly against the cool floor.
Pausing at the threshold, you cast one last look back at him, his handsome features softened in sleep with his lashes fanning dark against his cheeks, the strong bridge of his nose casting a subtle shadow, lips parted in quiet breaths that stirred the air.
A pang twisted in your chest before you turned away, vanishing into the misty paths without a backward glance.
You wouldn't wait for Neytiri. By then, Neteyam would stir, his questions a net you couldn't afford to tangle in further. The jungle welcomed you back, vines parting like old allies as you wove toward the treeline, the weight of departure lifting with each step. Just as the clan's central paths faded behind you, a figure emerged from the underbrush.
Alayni, her posture rigid with venom, arms crossed over her chest as she blocked your way, her eyes narrowed to slits.
"Had fun playing mates with mine? Taking advantage of his amnesia like the snake you are?" She spat, her voice dripping with accusation as she stepped closer, the aggressive sway of her hips belying the fury in her clenched fists.
You grinned at her, slow and evil, letting the malice curl your lips as your head tilted "Just as much fun as he had. Clinging, kissing, whispering sweet nothings. You should thank me for keeping him occupied."
She hissed lunging nearer, her breath hot and ragged as her fangs flashed. "Why are you even here? Skulking around like you belong?"
Your snarl matched hers, a guttural warning as your tail lashing behind you, claws extending slightly as you held your ground, the poised strength in your stance unyielding. "Don't worry, I'm leaving and never coming back. You won't have to betray your people again, teaming up with my sister to raid your own clan just to dispose of me in your twisted way."
Her grin twisted maliciously, a flash of triumph in her eyes lips pulling back in a sneer, one hand gesturing dismissively. "It was worth it. Every scream, every flame because it means Neteyam will be mine."
You pouted mockingly, the expression dripping with sarcasm as you puffed your cheeks slightly, eyes rolling in exaggerated pity.
"You had your people slaughtered, homes reduced to ash, all to eliminate me and claim him? You're not just delusional, you're a traitor through and through. Soon, your clan will uncover your rot and they'll see you for the venomous wretch you are."
Disgust curled your features, a final withering glance raking over her figure, the lines of your face hardening before you spun on your heel. Without another word, you melted into the foliage, the jungle swallowing your form whole, leaving her seething in the undergrowth.
The jungle's embrace felt mocking as you pushed through the dense foliage, the vines brushing against your arms like accusatory fingers. Your clan's territory loomed ahead, the familiar spires of woven huts rising against the canopy but the air hummed with a tension that set your nerves alight.
Once, the gazes that met yours were filled with awe, reverent whispers trailing your steps as the Tsakarem, the chosen one destined to weave Eywa's will into the clan's future next to your sister. Now, those same eyes shifted uneasily, darting away or narrowing in suspicion, the subtle flinch of shoulders and the hurried averting of faces speaking volumes.
You had betrayed them, after all, by dragging that Omatikaya warrior from the flames, his blood staining your hands as surely as your mercy had branded you a turncoat. Just as Alayni had sold her own people to the shadows for a chance at Neteyam's side, so had you fractured the bonds of your kin. The weight of it settled in your gut like river stones as you stepped into the clearing.
Whispers rippled through the gathered figures. Warriors pausing mid-stride, healers glancing up from their herbs with lips pressed thin.
Dread coiled tighter when she appeared.
Varang, your sister, emerging from the central marui like a specter carved from obsidian. Her presence commanded the space, broad shoulders squared beneath the weight of adorned armor, the scars across her arms a testament to battles won. But it was her face that chilled you. Blank, devoid of the fiery rage that usually ignited her amber eyes or twisted her full mouth into a snarl. This emptiness was worse, it was eerie and calculating, a void where her vicious fury should have roared.
"Tsmuke." You murmured, voice cracking despite your effort to steady it knees bending slightly as you lowered yourself in supplication, the soft curves of your torso shifting under the thin straps of your top. "Forgive me. I... I couldn't let him die there. Eywa's will—"
"Eywa's will? The boy had you believing that false goddess who abandoned us?" She approached, her movements deliberate, the powerful swing of her tail betraying nothing.
Her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your kuru with a gentleness that belied the threat as her nails grazed the sensitive neural tendrils, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine as she caressed it like a fragile vine. The touch was almost tender for her being yet it carried the promise of something darker.
"You are a traitor to your people." She said flatly, her voice a low monotone that echoed unnaturally in the hush as her eyes locked onto yours unblinking, the sharp angles of her jaw set like carved stone. "To your own sister. I should claim your kuru for that, sever it clean, or perhaps your head to remind all of divided hearts."
Horror bloomed cold in your chest as she drew her blade, raising it with fluid precision, the metal glinting in the dappled light, her biceps flexing with restrained power as she looped the edge toward your kuru. You breathed out sharply, bracing for the pain, your muscles tensing along your spine as your heart pounded against your ribs.
But she halted, the blade hovering inches from you before she withdrew it, letting your kuru slip free from her grasp. Her expression remained a mask of indifference, shoulders rolling back as she sheathed the weapon, the beads in her hair swaying with the motion. "You are not welcome here anymore. I have no use for divided loyalties, there is no place for traitors among the Mangkwan. Leave this place and if you ever return, I will not hesitate to forget you are my blood."
The words landed like a spear to the core, your heart plummeting into the pit of your stomach as a wave of nausea churned, you rose unsteadily, legs wobbling beneath the strength of your thighs. You bit your lip hard, the sharp sting drawing a bead of blood that you tasted metallic on your tongue, and turned away without another plea. The clan's stares burned into your back as you walked, first heavy steps then a numb stride, your heart a leaden ache in your chest.
Exile.
You belonged nowhere now, a ghost adrift in Pandora's vast wilds, your cruelty once a shield now a hollow echo of your being.
Hours blurred into an endless trek, the jungle's symphony fading to a distant hum as exhaustion clawed at you. Your feet ached against the uneven terrain, the sway of your hips slowing with each mile. The sun climbed and dipped, painting the undergrowth in shifting patterns, until the rush of water drew you onward.
The river, the same crystalline vein where Neteyam had found you before, time and time again, his persistence a thorn in your side. It curved invitingly, fringed with glowing ferns but solace it offered right now was a lie.
You collapsed onto the mossy bank, knees buckling as the fight drained from you curling into yourself, silent tears carved warm paths down your cheeks. Sobs caught in your throat, muffled against your knees, the isolation crashing over you like the current's foam.
"This is what happens when you try to leave me."
The voice sliced through the quiet, low and resonant, startling you upright. Your head snapping up, braids whipping across your damp face, eyes wide with wary as you scanned the shadows.
There he was, Neteyam, stepping from the treeline in all his imposing glory, the sunlight gilding his azure form. But this was no vulnerable soft version, his face was etched with darkness, his golden eyes hooded and intense, the usual warmth replaced by a predatory gleam as his broad chest rose steadily. The faint scars on his arms standing out as he moved with purpose, his tail flicking like a whip.
"What are you doing here? How did you—?" You stammered, scrambling back on your hands as your palms sinked into the cool mud.
He chuckled, a dark velvety sound that sent chills racing across your skin. He closed the distance with unhurried strides, his long legs eating the ground. Crouching beside you, he invaded your space effortlessly, his heat radiating like a forge. One knee pressing into the earth, forearm resting on his thigh as he leaned in, the sharp cut of his jaw tilting toward you.
"I followed you." He said simply, amusement curling his lips fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to touch you, eyes tracing the tear-streaked glow of your cheeks. "I wasn't asleep when you slipped away."
Confusion swirled with the resolve in your chest. You straightened, forcing firmness into your voice as your chin lifted defiantly, the subtle curve of your neck exposed as you met his gaze, refusing to cower. "Leave me be, Neteyam. This isn't your concern."
He tilted his head, a knowing grin spreading across his features though the shadows in his expression deepened the hollows of his cheeks. "You're mine. Why would I leave you alone? We've danced this evasion too long, it's time you accept it."
A snarl tore from your throat, raw and unrestrained. The culmination of betrayal, exile, and this relentless pursuit bubbling over. Your fangs bared, the muscles of your shoulders coiling as you lunged forward slightly, claws extending in warning. You didn't care anymore about Neytiri's pleas to play along, to shield him from stress or negativity. Your world had shattered and his delusions were the final straw.
"I'm not yours! We aren't mated, none of it was real. You're supposed to be with that woman, Alayni. You hit your head in that fall. It's selective amnesia twisting your memories, making you think we're bonded when we're enemies. Demon blood runs in you and you're tainting everything, leave me alone!"
The words spilled out in a torrent, your chest heaving with the force of them as your breath comes in sharp bursts, the soft peaks of your breasts straining against the fabric as fury flushed your skin a deeper hue.
You expected shock, denial, perhaps anger but he remained calm, face blank as a still pond, absorbing every accusation without a flicker. His arms folding loosely across his torso, the defined ridges of his abdomen shifting subtly with each even inhale.
"Are you done, baby?" He asked softly, the endearment laced with dark affection, voice dipping low, one corner of his mouth quirking as he watched you unravel.
Confusion made your lashes fluttered along with disbelief as you looked at him. "Did you not hear what I said? It's all a lie, your mind's broken!"
"I heard you loud and clear." He replied evenly, unfolding to rise slightly, towering over you even in his crouch as his shadow fall across your form. "You think I'm stupid? That I don't know the truth of it all? I know everything, baby."
Your mind reeled, questions piling like storm clouds as your pulse thundered in your ears, fingers digging into the earth for stability as you searched his face for deceit.
What game was this?
He leaned closer, grin widening with a flash of something primal in his eyes. It was dark and unyielding possession, his pupils dilating as the golden hue sharpened like a predator's stare.
"I do not have selective amnesia." He tapped the side of his head, the words dropping like stones into deep water.
"What?" The syllable escaped as a whisper, shock rooting you in place as your body goes still, the taper of your waist tensing as realization dawned.
"Do you not get it, baby?" His grin softened into something almost tender, hand reaching out to caress your face lovingly. His palm cupping your jaw, thumb tracing the high plane of your cheekbone with feather-light pressure, calluses rough against your silken skin. "It was all a ploy, (Y/N). The confusion, the clinging, the fabricated memories. I orchestrated it to keep you close without resistance from my family, the clan, or even you. I needed you unbound, willing in my arms, away from the barriers who wants to keep us apart."
Shock rippled through you, the extreme lengths he had gone to. For you. This enemy, this forbidden flame, leaving you breathless. Your eyes widening, the vibrant irises reflecting his intensity as your lips parted in stunned silence.
Insanity woven from obsession stared back at you in his gaze.
"You're insane." You breathed, shaking your head in denial trying to twist away, the sleek strands of your braids swaying as your shoulders rolled back, seeking distance from him.
He chuckled again, the sound rich and unrepentant, pulling you flush against him with effortless strength. His arms encircling your waist, his chest a solid wall of warmth pressing into your softer frame, tsking softly as you resisted. "You made me this way."
You pushed against his chest, not with full force but enough to test the boundary, your palms flattening against the firm planes of muscle there, feeling the steady thrum beneath azure skin marked by faint healing scars.
"You're still gonna be mated to Alayni." You insisted, voice edged with defiance lips pressing into a thin line, the subtle quiver of your chin betraying the storm within. "We are not truly mated. She's what your parents want, what the clan demands. This changes nothing."
Neteyam tilted his head, golden eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that bordered on reverence, but his gaze drifted inexorably downward, fixating on the full curve of your lips. His pupils darkening as he leaned fractionally closer, the sharp line of his nose nearly brushing yours, ignoring your protest like a whisper lost in the wind. He didn't flinch, didn't argue, instead a soft hum escaped him as if your words were mere ripples on the surface of his resolve.
"She won't be." He murmured finally, voice low and threaded with certainty as one of his hand sliding up your back, fingers tracing the delicate ridge of your spine through the thin weave of your top. "Once my parents and the clan know what she did, Alayni will be cast out like the poison she is."
Shock rippled through you anew, widening your eyes as you searched his face for any sign of bluff breath catching, the slope of your shoulders tensing beneath his touch.
"What do you mean?" The question tumbled out, laced with suspicion.
Did he know? Had the threads of deception of that bitch unraveled further than I realized?
A grin split his features, slow and predatory, revealing the gleam of his fangs as amusement danced in his irises, tail curling possessively around your calf.
"I heard every word from your conversation with her earlier." He confessed, the admission rolling off his tongue like a secret long savored. "How she betrayed our clan, orchestrated the attack that brought death and ruin to so many. She sold us out for her own ambitions, your escape included."
The pieces clicked into place, stealing your breath.
When you'd risen that morning, believing him lost to sleep in the cot, he hadn't been. He'd lain still, eyes cracked just enough to watch you slip away, granting you a mere twenty seconds' head start before rising silently. His instincts had guided him through the underbrush, shadows cloaking his pursuit until he caught the murmur of voices.
Yours and Alayni's, sharp with accusation.
He'd lingered at the edge, ears attuned to every damning syllable. Alayni's confession, her gloating over the attack she'd ignited, the way she'd twisted your departure not as rejection of him, but as her calculated strike to claim what she coveted. Rage had simmered in him then but so had resolve, fueling his steps as he trailed you deeper into the wilds.
From there, he'd shadowed you to the Mangkwan borders, concealed among the vines as you faced Varang's cold judgment. Witnessing your banishment, exiled for the mercy you'd shown him had ignited something primal in his chest. His heart had burst with a twisted joy, not from your suffering, but from the irrefutable proof of your bond.
You'd chosen him over blood, over everything. No longer could you deny the pull between you.
He wanted to laugh at how successful his plan had worked.
It all stemmed from that fateful night, long before the ploy took shape. He'd woken in the dim glow of the marui, the haze of injury lifting just enough to catch his parents' hushed voices. Jake's gruff concern, Neytiri's soft recounting of your heroism.
You, the Mangkwan Tsakarem, his enemy, had saved him.
For weeks, his world had been a void, convinced you'd fled because you couldn't bear his touch, his clan's shadow tainting any future with you. But hearing of your sacrifice breathed life back into him, a spark that demanded action.
Right then, amid the quiet vigil of his family, he'd devised the selective amnesia. A performance to bind you to his side without the chains of duty or suspicion snapping shut. When morning came, he'd stirred with feigned confusion, clinging to you as his “mate,” weaving tales of a bond forged in secret. His grin had widened inwardly as belief took root. Lo'ak's wary glances, Jake's reluctant nods, even Alayni's frantic interjections when she knew, it all swallowed the lie whole.
His grandmother’s counsel had sealed it, her wise eyes warning against stress that might fracture his fragile recovery. He knew his parents would honor that, allowing you unrestricted access under the guise of healing him. No forced mating with Alayni, not while he played the vulnerable son. And his mother... she'd softened, her fierce maternal love yielding to the sight of him animated again, how she saw the hollow shell of who he was weeks past was banished by just your presence.
She wanted her son whole and you'd become the key to that illusion.
He intended to exploit every fracture, every concession. You were his obsession, the fire that consumed his thoughts, and he would claim you fully. No matter the cost, the lies, or the darkness it demanded from him.
You breathed out shakily, the weight of his machinations settling over you like a shroud, chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm, the soft swell of your form molding against his as resignation flickered in your gaze.
"So you know." You whispered, not a question but an acknowledgment, the fight ebbing from your limbs.
He nuzzled your nose then, an affectionate gesture laced with possession as his breath fanned warm across your skin, the bridge of his nose gliding gently against yours in a promise of intimacy.
"She will pay for taking you from me." He vowed, voice husky with a blend of love and unbridled obsession, eyes half-lidded, the raw edge of his tone vibrating through you.
You heard it all in his voice, the devotion twisted into something fierce and unrelenting, the madness born of longing.
He was the architect of your chaos. The raid's echoes, Alayni's schemes, Varang's blade at your kuru, all traces led back to this pull between you. Yet, against the ache of loss, attraction bloomed unbidden within, a heat coiling low in your belly. Now knowing the depths he'd plumbed, the deceptions, and the risks just to ensnare you... it stirred something reciprocal. His love was a storm, dark and consuming, but genuine in its fervor.
Darkness wasn't alien to you. As Varang's shadow, you'd wielded cruelty like a blade, reveling in its sharp clarity. Your clan, your sister, they were ghosts now, severed by your choices. What remained? Emptiness or the shelter of his embrace? He'd toppled empires of tradition for you and in his arms, you could rebuild from the ruins.
Your gaze lifted, locking onto his with a newfound resolve, lashes fluttering once as you held his stare. Slowly and deliberately, you drew him down as your lips parted to capture his in a kiss. Hesitant at first then deepening with the surrender you'd long resisted.
Surprise flashed in his eyes, a brief widening before satisfaction curved his mouth against yours. Hands tightening on your hips, pulling you flush as he responded with fervor, tongue teasing the seam of your lips in hungry invitation. He kissed you back like a man starved, pouring weeks of pent-up yearning into the press of mouths and the tangle of breaths.
His body ignited, mind flooding with visions of you.
The plush give of your breasts against his chest, the rounded allure of your hips begging for his grasp. He craved to peel away the barriers, to uncover the dusky peaks of your nipples for it to harden under his gaze, to part your thighs and breathe in the musky essence of your arousal, to lap at the slick heat until you shattered in his mouth.
The kiss ignited like dry tinder under a spark, Neteyam's mouth claiming yours with a ferocity that left no room for retreat. His tongue swept in, bold and demanding, curling around yours in a slick dance. You gasped into him, a sound he swallowed by the deepening press of his mouth. Your hands fisting the straps of his woven belt as denial flickered one last time in your chest. But his grip on your waist tightened, thumbs digging into the soft flesh above your hips, pulling you impossibly closer until your curves molded to his unyielding frame.
"Mine." He growled against your lips, voice roughened by weeks of suppressed hunger.
He sucked on your tongue then, drawing it into his mouth with a wet obscene pull. His teeth grazing the sensitive underside, his low moan vibrating through you as saliva pooled and trickled at the corners. It was filthy and possessive, his obsession laid bare in the way he devoured you as if your very essence was the antidote to his torment.
You pulled back fractionally, breath ragged, the arch of your neck exposed as you tilted your head. Strands of dark hair cascading over one shoulder, catching the river's glow in silken waves.
"Neteyam... this is madness." You whispered, voice laced with lingering resistance, lips swollen and glistening from the onslaught of his hungry mouth. "We can't—Alayni, your clan—they'll never accept—"
His laugh was low and predatory, rumbling from deep in his chest as he nuzzled the curve of your jaw. Hot breath fanning your pulse point, fangs scraping lightly in a tease of possession.
"Fuck Alayni. Fuck the clan. You're the only one I see, the only one I crave." He captured your mouth again but this time his hand roamed lower, cupping the rounded swell of your ass through the thin fabric of your loincloth, kneading the flesh firmly eliciting an involuntary arch of your back. "Look at you. Soft, perfect, made for me. I've dreamed of this body every night, wanted to touch myself to the thought of burying myself inside you. Give in to me, baby. Surrender to what we both want."
His words coiled around you like vines, a manipulative silk weaving through your doubts. You were no innocent. Cruelty had been your armor but here, stripped by his gaze, vulnerability cracked through. And the heat building between your thighs betrayed you, a slick ache that made your denial ring hollow.
"I... I shouldn't." You murmured, even as your fingers traced the ridges of his abdomen, your nails dragging lightly, feeling the taut flex of muscle.
"But you will." He coaxed, voice dropping to a husky whisper as lips brushed your ear, sending shivers racing down your spine. "Because you feel it too, this pull, this need. Let me show you how good it can be. Just say yes and I'll make you forget everything else."
His free hand slipped under your top, callused palm gliding up your ribcage to cup one breast, his thumb circling the peak through the fabric drawing a sharp inhale from you as it pebbled under his touch.
Your resistance crumbled under the weight of his desire. You nodded, a small surrender, and he wasted no time. With deft fingers, he untied your top, letting it fall away to reveal the soft perky mounds of your breasts, nipples dusky and erect in the cool air.
Neteyam's breath hitched, eyes widening with reverent hunger as he stared with pupils dilating, a low groan escaping as he traced the curve with his gaze, committing every detail to memory.
"Eywa... so beautiful." He breathed, voice thick with awe leaning down to capture one peak in his mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud while his hand kneaded the other.
Pleasure shot through you like lightning, your head falling back and throat bared, a soft whimper slipping free as your fingers threaded into his braids. He lavished attention on your chest, alternating between sucks and gentle bites leaving faint red marks that bloomed like petals on your azure skin, his obsession evident in the way he murmured praises against your flesh.
"These tits... fuck, I've wanted to taste them since the first time I saw you. So full, so responsive. Want to watch how they bounce for me."
Your body responded traitorously, hips grinding against his thigh as arousal soaked through your coverings. He sensed it, a wicked grin curving his lips as he pulled back eyes dark with intent, trailing kisses down your sternum.
"Eager already? Let me see all of you." His hands worked at your loincloth, peeling it away to expose your core as your thighs parted instinctively, the cool air kissing your heated folds.
For the first time, he beheld your pussy. It was swollen, glistening with need, the musky scent rising like an intoxicating fog.
Neteyam inhaled deeply, nose brushing the softness of your inner thigh, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss, a shudder rippling through his broad shoulders. "Oh fuck, your scent."
He buried his face closer, tongue darting out to lap at the juices trailing down your thighs, savoring the tangy essence with a filthy groan.
You cried out, legs trembling as he licked a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, the flat of his tongue pressing firm, coaxing more of your arousal to drip in his awaiting mouth. "Neteyam—ah!"
The sensation was overwhelming, his mouth relentless in sucking your folds, circling the bundle of nerves with expert flicks. His fingers parting you wider, exposing every inch to his voracious hunger. Your juices leaked freely now, coating his chin as he feasted, the lewd sounds of his slurps and your moans filling the air.
"Taste so fucking good." He rasped between laps, voice muffled against your heat, one hand pinning your hip while the other teased your entrance. "Dripping for me, aren't you? This pretty little cunt leaking like it knows it's about to be claimed."
He spat then, a deliberate dollop of saliva landing on your frothing core as he watched it mix with your slick before diving back in, tongue plunging deep to gather every drop.
Ecstasy built swiftly, your walls clenching around nothing, but he pulled away just as you teetered on the edge lips shiny, eyes gleaming with dark promise. "Not yet. I want to feel you come around my cock first."
Rising to his knees, he shed his own coverings, revealing his massive length. The flared head already beading with precum standing proud against his abdomen, the sheer size making your eyes widen in a mix of awe and apprehension.
You reached out tentatively, fingers wrapping around the girth barely encircling it, feeling the velvet heat pulse under your touch.
"It's... huge." You breathed stroking experimentally, thumb swiping over the tip drawing a hiss from him.
"All for you." He panted guiding your hand, hips bucking into your fist as he watched your face. "Gonna stretch you so good, fill you up until you're ruined for anyone else."
He positioned himself between your thighs, rubbing the head along your slit, coating himself in your combined wetness, teasing your swollen clit with each pass.
"Wait—Neteyam, we can't... not fully." You protested weakly, even as your body arched toward him in anticipation.
"We can and we will." He murmured manipulatively, nipping your lower lip as his eyes locked on yours with hypnotic intensity. "Just the tip first then the rest of my cock, baby. Let me in, surrender this much and I'll make it worth it."
He pressed forward slowly, the broad head breaching you and stretching your walls with a burn that bordered on pain before morphing into exquisite fullness. You moaned, nails raking down his back leaving red trails that made him growl in approval.
"Too much... oh." You gasped but your legs wrapped around his waist urging him deeper.
"That's it baby, take me." He cooed inching further, watching your face contort in pleasure, his own features twisting with restraint. Once fully sheathed, he paused letting you adjust to the bulge forming low in your belly, his hand pressing against it feeling himself inside you. "Look at that, my cock making a home in your tummy. You're made for breeding, aren't you?"
You mewled at his words and he began to move then, slow thrusts that built to a punishing rhythm with his hips snapping in lewd slaps, the riverbank echoing the sound. Love bites peppered your neck and shoulders, his teeth sinking in just enough to mark, scratches from your nails mirroring on his skin, a canvas of mutual claim.
"Fuck, you feel so good. Gripping me like you never want to let go." His words were shameless as raw sweat beading on his temple.
Pleasure mounted coiling tight until you shattered as your walls convulsed around him, a cry tearing from your throat and body arching off the ground, stars bursting behind your eyelids.
He didn't stop, chasing his own release with frantic drives. "Coming inside you. Gonna flood this pussy, make it mine."
He spilled, hot ropes of cum painting your depths, sloshing audibly with his final thrusts, the excess leaking out around his base obscenely.
But one round wasn't enough.
He flipped you onto your hands and knees, re-entering with a single brutal stroke, hand fisting your hair gently, arching your back as he pounded deeper.
"Again. Need to feel you milk me dry." He demanded, spitting into your open mouth this time, watching you swallow with a filthy grin.
The second climax hit you harder, mind fogging as he filled you anew, your tummy bulging visibly now, a lewd testament to his claim. By the third round, you were fucked dumb. Limbs heavy, moans incoherent with eyes glazed, body limp as he rutted into you from behind, one hand rubbing delicious circles on your clit.
"So good for me. Dumb on my cock, just how I like you." He praised, nipping your ear, his free hand roaming to squeeze your breast and pinched your nipple.
In your haze, he moved with purpose. Gathering your kuru, he connected it swiftly with his own. Tsaheylu forming in a surge of connection that bound your souls, the bond electric, amplifying every sensation as he thrust through your overstimulation. You felt the gravity of his love and obsession with you. How he wanted to etch himself into your being until he’s all you’ll ever know. How he was ready to defy everyone and leave his clan just to be with you. How he wanted to fill your pussy over and over again until you give him a big family. He burns for you and he will burn for you if he must.
You whimpered realizing too late but the pleasure drowned the protests bubbling up in you.
"Now it's real." He whispered triumphantly, voice laced with obsession and his eyes wild as the bond deepened. "Mated for life, no escaping me anymore. I'll take you home and no one can touch what's mine."
"Neteyam, what have you—" You slurred but he silenced you with a deep kiss, tongues tangling as he drove toward another peak.
"I'll make you a mama." He vowed between thrusts, manipulative edge sharpening his tone as his hand splayed over your lower belly pressing the bulge. "Keep getting you pregnant every damn time. Swelling with my seed so everyone knows who you belong to. Your sister, Alayni, the whole damn clan, they'll see you're mine forever. You just have to give in fully baby, surrender yourself to me."
The words, the bond, the relentless pleasure, it broke you.
Or perhaps remade you.
As he came again, cum sloshing deep and overflowing in thick rivulets down your thighs, you clung to him, your denial shattered. You were mated truly now and escape was a faded dream. In his arms, you found a twisted peace. His darkness mirroring your own, binding you to him.
Your body trembled in the aftermath, every nerve alight with the echoes of ecstasy and the profound weight of the bond now thrumming between you. Neteyam's cock remained buried deep in your walls, a deliberate barrier sealing his cum within your tender overworked folds. The raw heat of your core clenching sporadically around him, holding back the warm flood that threatened to spill. A soft whimper escaped your lips as overstimulation lingered like a sweet ache.
"Shh, baby." He murmured soothingly, his voice a low rumble against your ear as one large hand stroking the sweat-damp curve of your spine. "You did so good. So perfect for me."
His tone wrapped around you like a cocoon, possessive yet tender, the darkness in his eyes softened by satiated affection for you.
Your vision swam in a haze of bliss, eyelids heavy as you gazed up at him with your lashes fluttering, the lines of your face flushed with exertion, a faint sheen of perspiration highlighting the subtle glow of your skin.
"Neteyam—" You breathed, the word half-protest, half-plea, your voice husky from cries long silenced by his kisses.
He grinned then, a slow, predatory curve of his lips as he drank in the sight of you.
Naked and utterly claimed, scattered love bites blooming like violet bruises along your collarbone and the swell of your breasts, faint red welts from his nails marking your hips where he'd gripped too fiercely in the throes. Your beauty struck him anew, wild and unmarred by the world's judgments, every curve and stripes a testament to the obsession that had driven him to this.
Leaning down, he captured one dusky nipple between his lips again, suckling with gentle insistence as his tongue flicked the sensitive tip drawing a fresh gasp from you as sparks reignited low in your belly. He released it with a soft pop, only to claim your mouth in a lingering kiss. Lips molding to yours, the taste of shared passion still lingering on his tongue, his breath warm and ragged against your skin.
Without withdrawing, he shifted, strong arms banding around your waist to pull you upright with him. His cock still lodged deliciously inside, shifted angles that sent a jolt of pleasure-pain through you, your walls fluttering in response. You clung to his shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle there, the stripes on his arms pulsing faintly in the dim light, a mirror to the bond's electric hum.
He stepped into the shallow river, the cool water lapping at your joined forms as he waded deeper. Cradling you against his chest, the current swirling around your thighs and teasing the sensitive juncture where you remained connected. Droplets clung to his broad shoulders, tracing rivulets down the defined planes of his torso as he began to wash you both. His free hand dipping into the stream to cup water over your marked skin, gentle swipes cleansing the evidence of your frenzy, though his eyes never left yours, still dark with lingering hunger.
All the while, he stole nasty smooches from your lips. Quick heated presses that deepened into tongue-tangling explorations as his fangs grazed your lower lip, a low hum of approval vibrating from his throat each time you yielded to his advances.
"My mate is so fucking pretty." He growled between kisses, voice thick with raw adoration as his gaze raked over you, from the tousled waves framing your face to the subtle sway of your hips in the water. "All full of my cum and marked. Look at you baby, mine in every way now."
You felt him stirring within you, thickening once more as arousal rebuilt. The lazy twitch of his hips pressing him deeper, sloshing the trapped seed inside you with obscene wet sounds that made your cheeks burn. A groan built in your throat, the sensation both soothing and igniting, your body betraying any semblance of fatigue.
"Do you not get tired?" You groaned, the words tumbling out as he mouthed at your nipple again, his teeth nipping the pebbled flesh, his hot breath fanning across your chest while the water buoyed your weight.
He chuckled darkly, the sound sending vibrations straight to your core as he lifted his head to meet your eyes, his own gleaming with unquenchable fire. "I'd fuck your pussy every day and still complain it's not enough."
The shameless declaration hung in the air, filthy and fervent, his hand sliding down to cup your ass, urging a subtle grind.
Your cunt pulsed at his words, a fresh wave of slick easing the way as desire coiled anew. Your inner muscles squeezing his cock involuntarily drawing a hiss from his parted lips. He responded in kind, fucking up into you with languid thrusts. Each roll of his hips deliberate, the friction building as your clit ground against the coarse texture at his pelvis, sparks blooming in your pussy with every press.
"You're so beautiful, baby." He whispered reverently, voice laced with awe, his free hand cradling the nape of your neck, thumb stroking your jaw as he held your gaze.
The water splashed softly around you, a rhythmic counterpoint to the deepening cadence of his movements.
Capturing your mouth once more, he parted your lips with his tongue, only to pull back slightly. Spitting a deliberate saliva into your open mouth, watching with hooded eyes as you swallowed, the act intimate and depraved. Then he dove in, sucking on your tongue with voracious pulls. Teeth grazing, saliva mingling in a messy heated exchange that left you breathless.
The pace quickened, his thrusts growing firmer despite the lazy intent. Your bodies rocking in the current, the bond amplifying every sensation until pleasure crested like a wave. You came first, a muffled cry against his lips as your walls clamped down. Stars fracturing your vision, limbs tightening around him in shuddering release. He followed moments later, spilling anew with a guttural moan. Hot pulses joining the existing warmth, the fullness overwhelming as it sloshed within you.
This time, he withdrew gently, the sudden emptiness making you whine softly. A trickle of his cum escaping to mingle with the river's flow. He cleaned you up for real then, thorough and attentive, rinsing away the remnants with cupped handfuls of water. Fingers careful over your sensitive skin, tracing the insides of your thighs before helping you into fresh coverings from his nearby pouch. He dressed himself swiftly, the woven fabric hugging his powerful frame, his kuru draped over one shoulder still tingling from the bond with you.
Scooping you into his arms, he cradled you bridal-style against his chest. Your head nestling into the crook of his neck, the steady thrum of his heartbeat lulling you. You snuggled closer instinctively, limbs heavy with exhaustion, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours like a balm.
He grinned down at you, that obsessive light in his eyes undimmed as his fangs peeked through before he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
"Go to sleep, baby." He coaxed softly, voice a gentle command as one hand rubbed soothing circles on your back while he began the trek back towards his clan. "When you wake up, we'll be back in our marui as mates. Nobody can set us apart now."
Your eyes fluttered closed, the fight drained from you entirely. A quiet warmth blooming in your chest at the depth of his love, twisted as it was, mirroring the shadows in your own heart.
"You're still a disgusting demon to me." You mumbled, the words laced with weary affection rather than true venom you used to hurl at him.
He chuckled, the sound rich and fond echoing softly in the night, adjusting his hold to keep you secure as your breathing evened out. "And you're still beautiful to me."
As sleep claimed you fully, the world faded to the rhythm of his steps, the bond a unbreakable tether pulling you into his darkness.
His smile turned into a dark smirk as he continued to walk with you in his arms. He wasn't done yet. His plan still yet to unfold. He wasn't gonna rest until he's sure nobody will be an obstacle and he sure knows who to start with first.
Alayni will be an example of how far I'm willing to go for you, baby.
He laughed to himself as he realized, he really was obsessed with you.
I got one! (Been trying to brainstorm since I saw your post)
What about Guz with a s/o with a Snorelax that’s their partner; But they’ve been known to be an insomniac.
The reason the Snorlax is her partner Pokemon is because it is the only one who can get her to sleep. It’ll just pick her up and make her take a nap with it. And when reader and Guz start dating the Snorlax starts making him nap to.
Thank you!
I like this one this is cute X3 got a bit more angsty than I meant it too but I hope you like it :)
Trigger warnings: Gender neutral reader, insomnia, nightmares das it i think
Insomniac!reader with a Snorlax
Sleeping never really came easy for you and all the traditional stuff never helped
White noise, warm milk, sleep masks; all failures.
So finally you thought it was worth investing in a Snorlax.
It eats at least 800 lbs of food every day, so every bean, berry, and malasada gets saved just for him.
It’s hard to keep him fed.
But by Arceus is it worth it
Never in your life have you fallen asleep so easily than when Snorlax scoops you up in his arms.
It’s quite literally a life saver lol
More often than not you don’t sleep in your bed, you sleep on Snorlax’s belly, with his arms keeping you warm
He does this during the day too, when you need a nap, you look up at him and throw your arms out for a hug.
He doesn’t hesitate, just scoops you up, and rocks you until you fall asleep. Once you do, he rolls onto his back and naps with you
(Be sure to set an alarm because you both can, and have, nap all day if you’re not careful)
Guzma finds it funny that you have your own walking mattress but he also thinks it’s genius
He helps you feed Snorlax by funneling beans down his throat lol
He also keeps an extra Pokeflute handy in case you forget yours.
But it is a bit awkward when you and babes are just chillin and then Snory randomly decides it’s nap time and literally whisks you away.
Good luck getting out of naptime now.
Guzma was staying the night at your place. As usual, you couldn’t sleep, but you were relaxed enough to curl up next to Guzma as he sleeps, listening to his steady breaths.
But soon his breathing grew ragged and he began to jolt in his sleep. You grab his shoulder and shake him gently. His thrashing got more intense so you shook harder.
Guzma jolted awake, taking a strained breath in. His eyes jumped around the room wildly.
You try to reassure him. “We’re at my house, Guzma, remember?”
He finally looks down at you. “You’re safe, I promise. It wasn’t real.”
You spent a few minutes trying to relax him enough to get back to sleep, but his nightmare left him too on edge. Suddenly you hear a low purr. You look up and see Snory staring down at the two of you. He can move pretty quietly when he wants to.
Before you can say anything he lifts Guzma out of bed and starts to rock him. Guzma looks confused and slightly offended about sitting in the crook of the Pokemon’s arm being consoled like a baby. You’re trying your best to hold back a giggle, but there’s something funny about seeing the “big bad Guzma” getting rocked to sleep by a Snorlax.
Guzma squirms in Snory’s lap, glaring at him and at you when he catches you snickering. But it’s gets harder to fight Snory off when Guzma starts feeling lethargic. Snory’s so soft and warm, and his purring gave off a pleasant rumble. Soon enough, Guzma gives up on trying to escape his hug prison and drifts off into a dreamless sleep.
You retrieve a handful of pokebeans for Snory and praise him. As he purrs he lifts you with his free arm and sways the two of you lightly. When you finally fall asleep, Snory rolls onto his back and joins you both for bedtime.
Front: bangs each side of the face as little longer then the bangs braid with very thing metal spike
Back: two big bun with little big metal spikes , with 3 small braid ribbon attach to behind the bun
Clothe Style
Top: turtle neck top with zipper from back also sleeveless ,Show off shoulder jacket with big puff sleeve and zippier each sleeve with tiny chain attach every where on sleeve
Lower: Belt corset with cargo pant ,with metal hoop attach each pockets
Bottom: Boots ,small chain wrap around like a laces ,with spike under the boots(makes easy to not move in position will using jinki) ,also has small metal charm of music notes attach the the chain
Extra: thin ring each fingers with chain attach to wrist band ,small earrings only on right ear nothing on left side ear ,long wristband
Clothes Color: White ,Gray ,Black
Jinki: Wired Mic
Explantion of Jinki
(I use an ai to help me think how i can use jinki with specific type of way how to use ,how it works ,how it effect to the oc and give few ideas different possible jinki)
1. Jinki Type: Attacker/Debuff
This concept focuses on the microphone as a tool for amplification and sonic force.
Jinki Name: Shoutbox or Feedback
Ability: You can "speak" your Thought directly into the mic, transforming your voice into raw, destructive power.
Sonic Blasts: A single word or shout can be amplified into a concussive blast of force, capable of shattering trash beasts or blasting opponents away.
Paralyzing Frequency: By humming or screaming a specific pitch, you could emit a high-frequency wave that stuns or paralyzes enemies who hear it.
Weapon Form: The wire could become a whip-like weapon, while the microphone itself hardens into a heavy, mace-like head. You could swing the mic by its wire, and on impact, it would release a "feedback" shockwave.
2. Jinki Type: Support/Control
This idea centers on the mic's role in communication and command.
Jinki Name: Conductor or Voice of Authority
Ability: Your voice, when channeled through the mic, can influence the world or people around you.
Command: You could issue simple, one-word commands (like "Stop," "Sleep," or "Come") that allies or even weak-willed enemies might be compelled to follow.
Rally: By giving a speech, you could amplify the "Thought" of your allies, boosting their morale, strength, and resolve.
Bind: The wire could be the main weapon, extending and wrapping around targets. Once they are bound, any sound they make is "fed" into the mic, allowing you to drain their energy or even hear their surface thoughts.
3. Jinki Type: Recon/Sensory
This concept treats the mic and wire as tools for listening and connection.
Jinki Name: Eavesdrop or Heartbeat
Ability: Instead of projecting, your Jinki gathers sound and information.
Enhanced Hearing: You could use the mic to pick up sounds from miles away, listening in on conversations or tracking a trash beast by its footsteps.
Sonar/Detection: By tapping the mic on the ground, the wire could snake out, feeding vibrations back to you. This would give you a perfect "sonar" image of the battlefield, letting you "see" enemies through walls.
"Listen" to Objects: You might be able to press the mic to an object (like a broken-down machine or a locked door) and "hear" its history or inner workings, helping you figure out how to fix or bypass it.
I'm just thinking that this two can be story as morticia or gomez reader sibling......pls someone help me made this a story because i can't stop it thinking of it🙃
My story of Kpop Demon Hunter but From Philippines
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Instead gwi-ma was the demon lord in this story bukunawa is the demon lord
*short story*
•long ago bukunawa wants to eat the moon so it not wont shine/glow and demons can eat the soul many as they want without been seen by the hunters the village suffer until the three mighty hunter who has gifted a beautiful voice to scare the demon and the bukunawa as the time the first gold honmoon made to protect they world as each generation place the tradition to keep the honmoon stay gold
*fanfact in philippines every myth animal like bukunawa who wants to eat the moon and some wants to eat sun only to be scared from a loud noise*💙
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