can you write more neteyam x pregnant na’vi reader
The Nest at Seven Months
Pairing: Neteyam x Reader
Word Count:1141
Request open!
Neteyam Masterlist
At seven months, you are no longer able to pretend you are not obviously pregnant.
The whole clan knows it. The children know it. Jake knows it, which means half the village knows it by extension. But Neteyam acts like your pregnancy is still the most fragile, sacred, potentially catastrophic thing he has ever seen.
Which is why he is currently following you around the marui with a damp cloth in one hand and water in the other, looking like a very handsome guard assigned to protect a very stubborn temple.
“I am not made of glass,” you tell him for the third time.
Neteyam, without missing a beat, answers, “No. Glass would be easier.”
You stare at him.
He keeps going, completely sincere. “Glass does not kick.”
You look down at your stomach, where your son gives a very determined little kick in direct response.
Neteyam notices immediately and lights up like he felt it too.
“There,” he says softly. “You see?”
You sigh, smiling despite yourself. “He is not trying to attack me.”
“He is testing limits.”
“You sound like your father.”
Neteyam lifts a brow. “That is insulting.”
You laugh, and he looks a little too pleased that he made you do it.
It has been this way for weeks now. He brings you fruit before you ask. He keeps the sleeping mat extra soft. He starts every sentence with your name like he is checking whether you are still okay. If you stand too quickly, he is already at your side. If you wince, he has a hand on your back before you even explain why.
You know some of it is concern. Some of it is excitement. And some of it is pure helpless love.
It shows in the way he talks to the baby too.
In low, absentminded murmurs when he thinks you are sleeping. In the way he rests his palm against your belly and says, “Easy, little one.” In the way his face changes every time the child kicks hard enough for him to feel it.
This afternoon, you catch him crouched beside the woven basket of baby things Neytiri has already begun stacking in a corner, holding a tiny shell rattle and looking very serious about it.
“What are you doing?” you ask.
He looks up, guilty for exactly half a second. “Nothing.”
You laugh. “You are absolutely doing something.”
Neteyam glances down at the rattle in his hand. “I was deciding whether this is too small.”
“For what?”
“For his hand.”
You soften instantly.
Neteyam’s voice drops. “It should fit well.”
You move to sit beside him, your side pressing gently against his. “You are getting ahead of yourself.”
He gives you a look. “You are carrying our son. I am allowed to get ahead.”
You reach for the rattle and turn it in your fingers. “You’ve already made a whole life in your head.”
“I have made several,” he corrects.
You snort. “Tell me one.”
Neteyam looks down, embarrassed in the way only he can be when speaking about tenderness. “He will have your eyes.”
You blink.
“He will also probably have your stubbornness,” he adds, and now he is definitely smiling. “Which means he will need to listen to me only half the time.”
You laugh. “That is not reassuring.”
“It is realistic.”
Your belly shifts again, and you hiss softly, one hand going down at once.
Neteyam is instantly alert. “Pain?”
“No,” you say, catching his wrist before he can panic. “Just a strong kick.”
His shoulders ease, but only barely. “He is doing that too much.”
You grin. “You say that every time.”
“Because it is every time.”
You lean into him, and he shifts so you can rest more comfortably against his shoulder. The two of you sit in the glow of the late afternoon while the village hums quietly around you.
After a while, Neytiri appears in the doorway, sees the scene, and pauses with a knowing look.
“You have built a nest again,” she says to Neteyam.
He blinks. “I did not build anything.”
Neytiri glances at the sleeping mat, the extra pillows, the water skin, the fruit bowl, the spare blanket, the neatly folded cloths. Then she looks back at him.
“You built too much.”
Neteyam’s ears turn slightly pink.
You laugh. “He is nesting.”
Neytiri’s expression warms. “Yes. He is.”
Neteyam looks deeply betrayed by the accusation, but not enough to deny it.
Jake pokes his head in a moment later, takes one look at the room, and snorts.
“Wow,” he says. “You two are getting ridiculous.”
Neteyam turns slowly. “Father.”
Jake points at the bedding. “That’s not a bed anymore. That’s a supply camp.”
Neteyam folds his arms. “You are just jealous.”
Jake laughs. “Of what?”
“That your grandchildren will be warmer than you were.”
That makes Jake pause, then laugh harder. “That was a good one.”
You smile as Neteyam glances at you with open pride because he made you laugh and he knows it.
Later, when the clan quiets for the night, you find him still awake, standing near the opening of the marui and looking out into the dark.
“You should sleep,” you murmur.
He turns at once. “I was waiting for you.”
You lift an eyebrow. “I was five feet away.”
“Exactly.”
You walk over and place your hand over his heart. It beats a little faster under your palm.
“Are you worried?” you ask softly.
His answer comes too fast. “Yes.”
You cup his face. “About me?”
“About everything,” he admits. “About the birth. About you hurting. About whether I will be enough.”
Your chest tightens. “Neteyam.”
He leans into your hand like he can’t help it.
“You always are,” you whisper.
His eyes shine, and now you know the fear is not just about the baby. It is about the possibility of losing what he already loves too much.
So you slide your arms around him carefully and pull him close.
“You are not doing this alone,” you say. “You hear me?”
He nods against your hair.
“And when you start pacing again,” you add, “I’m going to sit on you.”
That makes him laugh under his breath, the tension breaking just enough to let warmth in.
“You would do that,” he says.
“Yes.”
“I know.”
You smile. “Good.”
Neteyam kisses your forehead, then lowers one hand to your stomach with reverence.
“Sleep,” he murmurs to both of you. “The two of you need it.”
From inside, the baby kicks once, as if responding.
Neteyam smiles into the dark, utterly gone.
And you realize, as he keeps one careful arm around you and the other over the life growing inside you, that he has already become exactly what he was meant to be.
HEAR ME OUT: Pregnant Tamtey who gets VERY protective of her belly. She is hissing at literally everyone who looks at her wrong or gets too close for her liking. Even So’lek/her mate might be on the receiving end.
Jake’s first few attempts at recording logs are… awkward to say the least. He’s stiff and very obviously making it clear he does not want to be doing them. He sighs as he sits next to you, waiting for you to finish your very long and complicated rendition of the events from the day. When you finish, he rolls into your previous spot while Grace looks through her samples in the back of the video.
“Okay. This is video log 12. Times 21:32.” He sighs with the most pitiful puppy dog eyes before turning around to Grace. “Do I have to do this now? I really need to get some rack.”
“No. Now.” Grace deadpans, barely looking up from her microscope. “When it’s fresh.” He sighs again, looking anywhere but the camera. His gaze lands on you, and he smiles, nodding towards the camera. “Help me, pretty girl. Ours won’t be any different anyway.” You feel your own sigh build in your chest. He’s not wrong, but you go into fairly long tangents about the fauna on Pandora.
“I really think we’re supposed to do it separately.”
“Since when do I care? At least sit with me, help me if I forget anything.” He smirks, he knows he’s milking this ‘helpless with anything biology related’ and it keeps fucking working with you. You're a sucker for a sad face, really. It’s pathetic.
So of course, you scoot your chair into the view of the screen and help Jake recount the day's events.
“Okay, location, shack, and the days are starting to blur together.” Once he starts treating it like a spoken diary, he gets better, but the poor dude cannot, for the life of him, start a log normally.
“The language is a pain, but, you know, I figure it's like field-stripping a weapon. Just repetition, repetition.”
You take to the language significantly better than Jake, which is to be expected considering you have the background knowledge of the fauna and their scientific and common names. He enunciates too much, and you can tell it’s getting onto Neytiri’s nerves.
She starts by teaching you both anatomy words. She’s quizzing Jake, pointing to her big, pretty, and golden eyes, and she waits for Jake to tell her the correct name.
“Navi.” Jake attempts, and Neytiri loses just the tiniest bit more of her patience. She leans forward, her ears pinning backwards. “Nari.”
“Nari.” Jake chops out, and she leans forward, stressing the rolled r with a grimace of annoyance. “Narrrri.”
“Narrri,” Jake repeats impatiently, and she huffs, smacking him with a dull thud. “Enough. Sevin ‘eve, you go. Here.” You don’t even have time to correct her before she’s pointing towards her neck, and you murmur the answer petulantly, “pewn“.
It’s a little embarrassing because Jake constantly calls you ‘pretty girl’, and Neytiri’s taken to doing the same. Jake’s a little too pleased by it, Neytiri giving you the same nickname. It’s also caught on literally everywhere else. Grace smirks every time she says it, and Norm and Trudy giggle like two stupid kids. You’re not sure at this point if you’d even recognize your real name being called. But if anyone we’re to ask…it sounds the best coming from Neytiri.
It turns your stomach, the hold Jake and Neytiri have on you. Within weeks, you’ve decided that Jake is the best friend you’ve ever had. And you’ve only just met him. But, he’s a softie under that ‘thick skin’ routine. He constantly looks for you, in both forms. You can’t be away from him more than a minute before he’s searching for you, a worried glint in his eye. You wish it didn’t give you butterflies every time you saw it.
Neytiri is no better for your poor, lonely heart. She’s significantly nicer to you than she is to Jake. However, she’s no less touchy with either one of you. She’s a very hands-on tutor. You thought you might actually faint as she was teaching you how to use a bow. She’s pressed herself against your back, her breath puffing against the back of your neck as she adjusts your hold and aim. “You are…tsk.” She huffs, leaving your back to push against the front of your abdomen. “Txur ni'ul. Stronger here.” She corrects your aim with quick precision, nodding for you to loosen the arrow. You watch as she does the same for Jake. Straight smacking him around to correct him. You have to turn away before either of them can catch you with an amused smile on your face. Jake’s exactly where he wants to be; the poor guy doesn’t even flinch as Neytiri gives him hell.
“Neytiri calls me skxawng. It means moron.” Jake murmurs into the video log, you look away as he gives you a pointed, playful side-eye. “She calls her Sevin ‘eve. Any guesses as to what that means?” He snarks to the camera, a faux look of irritation plastered on his face. “Pretty girl.”
“The fuckin’ cherry on top. She treats her like fuckin’ glass.” Jake sighs, throwing his head back in exasperation, and throwing his thumb in your direction. “I mean, I would too, but maybe I want the princess treatment every once in a while.”
You give him a nasty look, and he chokes back a smile. “What? It’s true!”
“It’s girlhood. You’re a guy. You wouldn’t get it.” You huff, leaning back in your seat as you aimlessly doodle on a notepad. It helps you stay concentrated when doing the video logs. Doesn’t help much when Jake gets off-topic. What can you say? You’re a cold-blooded yapper.
“It’s…what’s it called when women are sexist against men?”
“Don’t even go there.”
“Misandry.” Norm supplies from the back, and all three women in the trailer lab snap their heads to give him the nastiest looks. He gives an awkward wince, shrugging. “He asked! I’m sorry.”
“He asked.” Trudy mocks in a high-pitched imitation of Norm, flicking the back of his head.
Jake stifles a laugh, and you turn back with a sharp look. “Norm’s taking the heat for you, and you’re laughing?”
“I’m sorry, baby, alright? Just making a joke. It was stupid. You know I’m stupid. You and Neytiri have something I never will.” He grins and says "baby" without so much as a blink, and goddamn, does it reset your brain. You feel your face heat up, and you blink, avoiding looking at Jake or the camera. He knows he’s off the hook, well, with you at least. He shouldn’t be too sure about Grace or Trudy.
“Yeah, whatever.” You murmur, scribbling harder on the notepad as a way to distract yourself. He grins at you before reaching to shut the camera off.
You’re woken up one morning by Grace, “C’mon, kid. We gotta run back to the base to grab a few more supplies.”
You feel your brows knit together in irritation; it’s still dark outside the trailer. Has this woman lost her goddamn mind? You wish you could bitch and tell her to take Norm, but you know that would go over like a lead balloon. So…you just roll out from your bed, clothes wrinkled and mussed with sleep. “Gonna have to grab Jake’s exopack-”
“He’s not coming, just get yours.”
You give her a sharp look, almost a glare, underneath the grumpy pout. “What, why? That’s not fair, he’s gonna go hang out with Ney-”
“Shut up.” Grace huffs impatiently, throwing clean clothes towards you. “He and Norm will stay at the site and practice the Na’vi language. Eywa knows he needs the help. You don’t know much better than Jake, and I need someone with me who knows what tools to grab. I don’t need someone to get me a beaker when I ask for an Erlenmeyer flask. So, you’re the only choice since Norm’s staying here.” She’s following Trudy out the door before you can give much of an argument. You feel your eye twitch before throwing on the clothes Grace gave you. You know she’s right, damn, she makes you so fucking angry sometimes.
The flight was quick, still foggy, but not nearly as bad as it was when you first arrived. The base is as sweltering as ever. The pavement and blacktop are doing fuckall to redistribute the heat from the sun. Trudy stays behind with the craft to do some repairs. And Grace spends maybe a whole year talking with Max Patel and a few other scientists whose names your brain is too tired to recall. But her bag is packed full of supplies, and you have been eyeing the canteen door since you walked in. Since she’s got everything she needs, you take the executive decision to get yourself some food.
With a plate full of grub, you happily make your way to an empty table and just stuff your face. You’re surrounded by hired guns who are eating even more disastrously than you are. You do not care whatsoever. Except someone does sit across from you, you glance up with wide eyes and cheeks full.
There sits an amused Colonel Miles Quaritch. You almost choke on the mouthful of food. You regret eating like you were starved. Fuck. He snorts, an amused smile on his face as he waves you off. “You’re fine, finish your food.”
When you finish, he does not wait for you to speak. “So, Augustine brings you here instead of Jake. He needs to report back to me. I hope Augustine realizes that.”
“Oh, uh, probably, but I think today was supposed to be a short trip.” You murmur, fixing the sleeve of your shirt. “I can let her know you asked about it today?”
“That’d be peachy, honey. But I, uh, got another question for ya.”
“Sure,” You smile politely, waiting for him to continue.
“See, I’ve just recently lost a member of my ground exploration team. And well, I was wondering if you’d want to sign up for the position since you’ve got a good lay of the land here, sorta like a tour guide. It wouldn’t be an armed position…and it would extend your stay on Pandora heavily. I know Jake’s rotating after he finishes here to get his legs back, but I wasn’t sure what your plans were.” He gives you a look like he already knows the answer. “Whaddya say, honey?”
You blank. You hadn’t given ‘after’ much thought. But a chance to stay here, indefinitely for the time being… It's very tempting. And Jake doesn’t owe you a thing after his contract is up; you’re even excited at the thought of him getting the ability to walk back. He’s plenty capable now, but when he’s piloting the Avatar, you’ve truly never seen him happier. He deserves to get that independence back, and who knows if you’ll even keep in touch after. God, you hope so, but there’s never any guarantees.
“I…how long?”
“As long as you can do it. Six years for sure,” Quaritch answers smoothly, leaning forward with his hands bunched together. “I get it might be a tough decision, but I can really only ask ya this once.”
You don’t want to lose the opportunity to stay here. To be with and study actual, real wild animals again, not just genetically modified creatures stuck in cement zoos. Maybe you’ll see Jake again, you surmise. You don’t even come from the same city on Earth, would either of you be willing to uproot your entire lives to live near each other? The thought almost makes you smile; you've both already uprooted your lives to go to space. How difficult would a little over a thousand miles be? Maybe when you finish here, you’ll move to Jake’s city, be set for life for the money you’ve made here. It’s a pretty solid idea.
“Alright. I’ll do it.”
“Wonderful, I knew ya’d take the deal. Needed someone capable on the team, too. If you wanna follow me real quick, we can get the paperwork signed, and you’ll be set to start working whenever needed.”
Walking back to the lab after your meeting with Quaritch is a little surreal. You know everyone here is just on a job, but you can’t help but feel a little like you just sold your soul away. You’re probably overthinking it.
Grace doesn’t even question your absence, just grabs her bags with an easy grin. “Let's go, kid.”
The tarmac is busier than when you first landed this morning; it makes sense. More activity happens later in the morning. You and Trudy are helping Grace pack the helicopter before Lyle Wainfleet approaches Trudy with a grin. She chats with him for a hot second before he glances at you. His grin gets even bigger. “Hey, JW! Heard you’d be joining our team after you’re finished here. Glad to hear it.”
Grace gives you a questioning look, and you wince, ignoring it for now. You give him a polite, very awkward smile, “Uh, yeah, thanks…sorry, um, JW is not my name, it’s actually-.”
“Jake’s Woman,” Lyle interrupts you with a tight-lipped smile. “My bad, a few of the boys could not remember your name, but you’re always with Jake. It just stuck.” He quickly makes his retreat, practically skedaddling away. Grace can’t hold back the snort. You have got to be fucking kidding me, you think to yourself, stewing in embarrassment.
“Do not tell Jake.” You manage to mutter out, face shamefully hot.
“No way in hell I’m not. Kid’s gonna be over the moon.” Grace grins easily, jumping into the cockpit. “Get in, JW.”
“This is demeaning, Grace.”
Jake’s avatar is getting faster every day. You suppose yours is too, since she can keep up with him and Neytiri. The callouses that have grown make your feet stronger, too, and more resilient to rough surfaces. Jake talks about running in almost every one of his video logs.
Currently, Neytiri is sprinting up a tree, and Jake’s not far behind her. You get a little jealous of their athleticism. Neytiri just launching off the tree branch and catching herself with one hand makes it a little worse. Jake follows with ease, landing a little harder. You know you can’t hesitate, or you will fucking fall. So, throwing all caution to the wind, you land with a stumble behind Jake, a hysterical giggle falling from your lips. He grins, pulling you after him. “C’mon, pretty girl, I’m dying to give Pale a ride.”
“Every day it's reading the trails, the tracks at the waterhole, the tiniest scents and sounds.”
Neytiri actually intimidates the fuck out of you. She’s the apex predator in the forest. Jesus, you do not want to be on the other end of her skills. She’s terrifyingly good at finding even the smallest details that indicate prey when she takes you and Jake hunting. Tracking down a viperwolf, nantang, and her pups. You tilt your head forward, almost cooing at the cubs. Jake glances at you, studying your face. You’re in your element here, just observing the natural processes of life. You should always look so peaceful.
Neytiri’s head bumps yours as she leans closer, “three, pxey.” You hum with a nod, squinting.
“Yeah, aren’t typical litters around 4-6?” You turn your head to look at her, but she’s already facing you. She nods, her eyes flickering across the bioluminescent dots on your cheeks. “Yes. Must be ngäzìk, hard, year.”
Jake pats your thigh when the viperwolf turns its head in your direction when it hears you and Neytiri talk. “Time to go, girls.”
“Neytiri’s always going on about the flow of energy, the spirits of animals…” Jake sighs into the view of the camera, glancing at you. You had been sketching the viperwold and her cubs from earlier, but had fallen asleep on your notebook. He sighs again, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. “I really hope this tree-hugger crap isn't on the final.”
Grace, who had once again been in the background looking at samples, looks up from her microscope at Jake’s bitching. “This isn't just about eye-hand coordination out there, you know. You need to listen to what she says. Try to see the forest through her eyes.”
Jake smiles, thumbing towards the camera, “Excuse me. This is my video log here.” Jake glances back towards the camera, and then you. He reaches for the camera, and suddenly the screen turns black.
He nudges you gently, waking you from your impromptu nap. “C’mon, pretty girl. Go to bed.” You groan, red sleep patterns printed on your face. You glance at your top bunk, suddenly regretting every decision that ever led to you picking that fucking thing to sleep in every night. Jake snorts, seeing the disgruntled look on your face. He smiles that stupid, pretty smile and offers up the silver platter of the evening. “You can lay down with me, if you want, sleepy.”
You, still half asleep, immediately take him up on it. Crawling to the far inside of his bottom bunk. Making yourself comfortable as if you were in your own bed. You don’t even wake up when he scoots himself in, too.
You wake up in the morning, Jake’s arm is over your waist, but there’s basically a whole ass ravine between you two with the space he left. Small slivers of the sun poke through the curtains, giving Jake angelic backlighting. You almost regret signing up for extra time on Pandora, letting Jake go back to Earth by himself. Neytiri suddenly pops up in your brain, but…even if you left with Jake, she’s supposed to be mated with Tsu’tey when they are ready. And you aren’t sure she even considers you a friend…you at least hope Jake does.
The sudden sound of Grace clearing her throat makes your head snap towards her. She smiles smugly, mouthing ‘JW.’ The mental calculation of days that Grace hasn’t pissed you off ticks back down to zero. You flip back over, looking towards the wall. Jake’s breath puffs against your neck, and you realize that you’re gonna have to stop worrying about what’s going to happen after. Enjoy it now, while it lasts at least.
Jake’s first few attempts at recording logs are… awkward to say the least. He’s stiff and very obviously making it clear he does not want to be doing them. He sighs as he sits next to you, waiting for you to finish your very long and complicated rendition of the events from the day. When you finish, he rolls into your previous spot while Grace looks through her samples in the back of the video.
“Okay. This is video log 12. Times 21:32.” He sighs with the most pitiful puppy dog eyes before turning around to Grace. “Do I have to do this now? I really need to get some rack.”
“No. Now.” Grace deadpans, barely looking up from her microscope. “When it’s fresh.” He sighs again, looking anywhere but the camera. His gaze lands on you, and he smiles, nodding towards the camera. “Help me, pretty girl. Ours won’t be any different anyway.” You feel your own sigh build in your chest. He’s not wrong, but you go into fairly long tangents about the fauna on Pandora.
“I really think we’re supposed to do it separately.”
“Since when do I care? At least sit with me, help me if I forget anything.” He smirks, he knows he’s milking this ‘helpless with anything biology related’ and it keeps fucking working with you. You're a sucker for a sad face, really. It’s pathetic.
So of course, you scoot your chair into the view of the screen and help Jake recount the day's events.
“Okay, location, shack, and the days are starting to blur together.” Once he starts treating it like a spoken diary, he gets better, but the poor dude cannot, for the life of him, start a log normally.
“The language is a pain, but, you know, I figure it's like field-stripping a weapon. Just repetition, repetition.”
You take to the language significantly better than Jake, which is to be expected considering you have the background knowledge of the fauna and their scientific and common names. He enunciates too much, and you can tell it’s getting onto Neytiri’s nerves.
She starts by teaching you both anatomy words. She’s quizzing Jake, pointing to her big, pretty, and golden eyes, and she waits for Jake to tell her the correct name.
“Navi.” Jake attempts, and Neytiri loses just the tiniest bit more of her patience. She leans forward, her ears pinning backwards. “Nari.”
“Nari.” Jake chops out, and she leans forward, stressing the rolled r with a grimace of annoyance. “Narrrri.”
“Narrri,” Jake repeats impatiently, and she huffs, smacking him with a dull thud. “Enough. Sevin ‘eve, you go. Here.” You don’t even have time to correct her before she’s pointing towards her neck, and you murmur the answer petulantly, “pewn“.
It’s a little embarrassing because Jake constantly calls you ‘pretty girl’, and Neytiri’s taken to doing the same. Jake’s a little too pleased by it, Neytiri giving you the same nickname. It’s also caught on literally everywhere else. Grace smirks every time she says it, and Norm and Trudy giggle like two stupid kids. You’re not sure at this point if you’d even recognize your real name being called. But if anyone we’re to ask…it sounds the best coming from Neytiri.
It turns your stomach, the hold Jake and Neytiri have on you. Within weeks, you’ve decided that Jake is the best friend you’ve ever had. And you’ve only just met him. But, he’s a softie under that ‘thick skin’ routine. He constantly looks for you, in both forms. You can’t be away from him more than a minute before he’s searching for you, a worried glint in his eye. You wish it didn’t give you butterflies every time you saw it.
Neytiri is no better for your poor, lonely heart. She’s significantly nicer to you than she is to Jake. However, she’s no less touchy with either one of you. She’s a very hands-on tutor. You thought you might actually faint as she was teaching you how to use a bow. She’s pressed herself against your back, her breath puffing against the back of your neck as she adjusts your hold and aim. “You are…tsk.” She huffs, leaving your back to push against the front of your abdomen. “Txur ni'ul. Stronger here.” She corrects your aim with quick precision, nodding for you to loosen the arrow. You watch as she does the same for Jake. Straight smacking him around to correct him. You have to turn away before either of them can catch you with an amused smile on your face. Jake’s exactly where he wants to be; the poor guy doesn’t even flinch as Neytiri gives him hell.
“Neytiri calls me skxawng. It means moron.” Jake murmurs into the video log, you look away as he gives you a pointed, playful side-eye. “She calls her Sevin ‘eve. Any guesses as to what that means?” He snarks to the camera, a faux look of irritation plastered on his face. “Pretty girl.”
“The fuckin’ cherry on top. She treats her like fuckin’ glass.” Jake sighs, throwing his head back in exasperation, and throwing his thumb in your direction. “I mean, I would too, but maybe I want the princess treatment every once in a while.”
You give him a nasty look, and he chokes back a smile. “What? It’s true!”
“It’s girlhood. You’re a guy. You wouldn’t get it.” You huff, leaning back in your seat as you aimlessly doodle on a notepad. It helps you stay concentrated when doing the video logs. Doesn’t help much when Jake gets off-topic. What can you say? You’re a cold-blooded yapper.
“It’s…what’s it called when women are sexist against men?”
“Don’t even go there.”
“Misandry.” Norm supplies from the back, and all three women in the trailer lab snap their heads to give him the nastiest looks. He gives an awkward wince, shrugging. “He asked! I’m sorry.”
“He asked.” Trudy mocks in a high-pitched imitation of Norm, flicking the back of his head.
Jake stifles a laugh, and you turn back with a sharp look. “Norm’s taking the heat for you, and you’re laughing?”
“I’m sorry, baby, alright? Just making a joke. It was stupid. You know I’m stupid. You and Neytiri have something I never will.” He grins and says "baby" without so much as a blink, and goddamn, does it reset your brain. You feel your face heat up, and you blink, avoiding looking at Jake or the camera. He knows he’s off the hook, well, with you at least. He shouldn’t be too sure about Grace or Trudy.
“Yeah, whatever.” You murmur, scribbling harder on the notepad as a way to distract yourself. He grins at you before reaching to shut the camera off.
You’re woken up one morning by Grace, “C’mon, kid. We gotta run back to the base to grab a few more supplies.”
You feel your brows knit together in irritation; it’s still dark outside the trailer. Has this woman lost her goddamn mind? You wish you could bitch and tell her to take Norm, but you know that would go over like a lead balloon. So…you just roll out from your bed, clothes wrinkled and mussed with sleep. “Gonna have to grab Jake’s exopack-”
“He’s not coming, just get yours.”
You give her a sharp look, almost a glare, underneath the grumpy pout. “What, why? That’s not fair, he’s gonna go hang out with Ney-”
“Shut up.” Grace huffs impatiently, throwing clean clothes towards you. “He and Norm will stay at the site and practice the Na’vi language. Eywa knows he needs the help. You don’t know much better than Jake, and I need someone with me who knows what tools to grab. I don’t need someone to get me a beaker when I ask for an Erlenmeyer flask. So, you’re the only choice since Norm’s staying here.” She’s following Trudy out the door before you can give much of an argument. You feel your eye twitch before throwing on the clothes Grace gave you. You know she’s right, damn, she makes you so fucking angry sometimes.
The flight was quick, still foggy, but not nearly as bad as it was when you first arrived. The base is as sweltering as ever. The pavement and blacktop are doing fuckall to redistribute the heat from the sun. Trudy stays behind with the craft to do some repairs. And Grace spends maybe a whole year talking with Max Patel and a few other scientists whose names your brain is too tired to recall. But her bag is packed full of supplies, and you have been eyeing the canteen door since you walked in. Since she’s got everything she needs, you take the executive decision to get yourself some food.
With a plate full of grub, you happily make your way to an empty table and just stuff your face. You’re surrounded by hired guns who are eating even more disastrously than you are. You do not care whatsoever. Except someone does sit across from you, you glance up with wide eyes and cheeks full.
There sits an amused Colonel Miles Quaritch. You almost choke on the mouthful of food. You regret eating like you were starved. Fuck. He snorts, an amused smile on his face as he waves you off. “You’re fine, finish your food.”
When you finish, he does not wait for you to speak. “So, Augustine brings you here instead of Jake. He needs to report back to me. I hope Augustine realizes that.”
“Oh, uh, probably, but I think today was supposed to be a short trip.” You murmur, fixing the sleeve of your shirt. “I can let her know you asked about it today?”
“That’d be peachy, honey. But I, uh, got another question for ya.”
“Sure,” You smile politely, waiting for him to continue.
“See, I’ve just recently lost a member of my ground exploration team. And well, I was wondering if you’d want to sign up for the position since you’ve got a good lay of the land here, sorta like a tour guide. It wouldn’t be an armed position…and it would extend your stay on Pandora heavily. I know Jake’s rotating after he finishes here to get his legs back, but I wasn’t sure what your plans were.” He gives you a look like he already knows the answer. “Whaddya say, honey?”
You blank. You hadn’t given ‘after’ much thought. But a chance to stay here, indefinitely for the time being… It's very tempting. And Jake doesn’t owe you a thing after his contract is up; you’re even excited at the thought of him getting the ability to walk back. He’s plenty capable now, but when he’s piloting the Avatar, you’ve truly never seen him happier. He deserves to get that independence back, and who knows if you’ll even keep in touch after. God, you hope so, but there’s never any guarantees.
“I…how long?”
“As long as you can do it. Six years for sure,” Quaritch answers smoothly, leaning forward with his hands bunched together. “I get it might be a tough decision, but I can really only ask ya this once.”
You don’t want to lose the opportunity to stay here. To be with and study actual, real wild animals again, not just genetically modified creatures stuck in cement zoos. Maybe you’ll see Jake again, you surmise. You don’t even come from the same city on Earth, would either of you be willing to uproot your entire lives to live near each other? The thought almost makes you smile; you've both already uprooted your lives to go to space. How difficult would a little over a thousand miles be? Maybe when you finish here, you’ll move to Jake’s city, be set for life for the money you’ve made here. It’s a pretty solid idea.
“Alright. I’ll do it.”
“Wonderful, I knew ya’d take the deal. Needed someone capable on the team, too. If you wanna follow me real quick, we can get the paperwork signed, and you’ll be set to start working whenever needed.”
Walking back to the lab after your meeting with Quaritch is a little surreal. You know everyone here is just on a job, but you can’t help but feel a little like you just sold your soul away. You’re probably overthinking it.
Grace doesn’t even question your absence, just grabs her bags with an easy grin. “Let's go, kid.”
The tarmac is busier than when you first landed this morning; it makes sense. More activity happens later in the morning. You and Trudy are helping Grace pack the helicopter before Lyle Wainfleet approaches Trudy with a grin. She chats with him for a hot second before he glances at you. His grin gets even bigger. “Hey, JW! Heard you’d be joining our team after you’re finished here. Glad to hear it.”
Grace gives you a questioning look, and you wince, ignoring it for now. You give him a polite, very awkward smile, “Uh, yeah, thanks…sorry, um, JW is not my name, it’s actually-.”
“Jake’s Woman,” Lyle interrupts you with a tight-lipped smile. “My bad, a few of the boys could not remember your name, but you’re always with Jake. It just stuck.” He quickly makes his retreat, practically skedaddling away. Grace can’t hold back the snort. You have got to be fucking kidding me, you think to yourself, stewing in embarrassment.
“Do not tell Jake.” You manage to mutter out, face shamefully hot.
“No way in hell I’m not. Kid’s gonna be over the moon.” Grace grins easily, jumping into the cockpit. “Get in, JW.”
“This is demeaning, Grace.”
Jake’s avatar is getting faster every day. You suppose yours is too, since she can keep up with him and Neytiri. The callouses that have grown make your feet stronger, too, and more resilient to rough surfaces. Jake talks about running in almost every one of his video logs.
Currently, Neytiri is sprinting up a tree, and Jake’s not far behind her. You get a little jealous of their athleticism. Neytiri just launching off the tree branch and catching herself with one hand makes it a little worse. Jake follows with ease, landing a little harder. You know you can’t hesitate, or you will fucking fall. So, throwing all caution to the wind, you land with a stumble behind Jake, a hysterical giggle falling from your lips. He grins, pulling you after him. “C’mon, pretty girl, I’m dying to give Pale a ride.”
“Every day it's reading the trails, the tracks at the waterhole, the tiniest scents and sounds.”
Neytiri actually intimidates the fuck out of you. She’s the apex predator in the forest. Jesus, you do not want to be on the other end of her skills. She’s terrifyingly good at finding even the smallest details that indicate prey when she takes you and Jake hunting. Tracking down a viperwolf, nantang, and her pups. You tilt your head forward, almost cooing at the cubs. Jake glances at you, studying your face. You’re in your element here, just observing the natural processes of life. You should always look so peaceful.
Neytiri’s head bumps yours as she leans closer, “three, pxey.” You hum with a nod, squinting.
“Yeah, aren’t typical litters around 4-6?” You turn your head to look at her, but she’s already facing you. She nods, her eyes flickering across the bioluminescent dots on your cheeks. “Yes. Must be ngäzìk, hard, year.”
Jake pats your thigh when the viperwolf turns its head in your direction when it hears you and Neytiri talk. “Time to go, girls.”
“Neytiri’s always going on about the flow of energy, the spirits of animals…” Jake sighs into the view of the camera, glancing at you. You had been sketching the viperwold and her cubs from earlier, but had fallen asleep on your notebook. He sighs again, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. “I really hope this tree-hugger crap isn't on the final.”
Grace, who had once again been in the background looking at samples, looks up from her microscope at Jake’s bitching. “This isn't just about eye-hand coordination out there, you know. You need to listen to what she says. Try to see the forest through her eyes.”
Jake smiles, thumbing towards the camera, “Excuse me. This is my video log here.” Jake glances back towards the camera, and then you. He reaches for the camera, and suddenly the screen turns black.
He nudges you gently, waking you from your impromptu nap. “C’mon, pretty girl. Go to bed.” You groan, red sleep patterns printed on your face. You glance at your top bunk, suddenly regretting every decision that ever led to you picking that fucking thing to sleep in every night. Jake snorts, seeing the disgruntled look on your face. He smiles that stupid, pretty smile and offers up the silver platter of the evening. “You can lay down with me, if you want, sleepy.”
You, still half asleep, immediately take him up on it. Crawling to the far inside of his bottom bunk. Making yourself comfortable as if you were in your own bed. You don’t even wake up when he scoots himself in, too.
You wake up in the morning, Jake’s arm is over your waist, but there’s basically a whole ass ravine between you two with the space he left. Small slivers of the sun poke through the curtains, giving Jake angelic backlighting. You almost regret signing up for extra time on Pandora, letting Jake go back to Earth by himself. Neytiri suddenly pops up in your brain, but…even if you left with Jake, she’s supposed to be mated with Tsu’tey when they are ready. And you aren’t sure she even considers you a friend…you at least hope Jake does.
The sudden sound of Grace clearing her throat makes your head snap towards her. She smiles smugly, mouthing ‘JW.’ The mental calculation of days that Grace hasn’t pissed you off ticks back down to zero. You flip back over, looking towards the wall. Jake’s breath puffs against your neck, and you realize that you’re gonna have to stop worrying about what’s going to happen after. Enjoy it now, while it lasts at least.
To all artists across all social media platforms, be aware of this jerk! He has stolen many people's art, and now is trying to claim it as his! I have reported all the accounts and he thinks his actions won't have consequences! Help take this douche canoe down! He is a thief!
I just went through a breakup this morning and this is what I went listen to first after he broke my heart. I felt a piece of me not only break, but unalive as well.
I would love any fics about the men of avatar to be sent my way to help take my mind off of the hurt I am feeling.
𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 ᝰ Pril is an adorable, but very hungry baby. When you take a moment to make yourself some breakfast and hand your daughter over to her father, she decides to solve her hunger herself. Unfortunately for Tonowari, she mistakes his chest for yours and assumes she'll gain milk if she latches onto him.
𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆… Tonowari te Tsika'u Arvak'itan
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓… SFW ᝰ Avatar: Fire and Ash based, non-canon, featuring baby Pril, fem!Metkayina!reader, Tsahìk!reader, dad!Tonowari x mom!reader, reader takes place of Ronal, established relationship [mates/marriage] pure fluff, humor, domestic, mention and act of breastfeeding; na'vi language w/ translations
𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍… 2.7k words
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑… This was a very fun and cute fic to write!! This is the first Tonowari fic I've written in a long time that wasn't attached to FSB. I enjoyed writing Baby Pril too because she's such a cutie patootie🥰!!! As always, I hope y’all enjoy and always feel free to comment and reblog, I can’t wait to read y’all reactions!
𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒… Main M.list ・Avatar Taglist
Morning in Awa’atlu begins softly. Sunlight spilling over the island as the chatter of waking Metkayina spread throughout the village, some getting ready for the day as others already begin their daily routines that align with their clan roles.
Inside your family’s marui, however, the calm of the morning is already over, due to having a infant in your home. Your daughter, Pril, squirms in your arms with determination, little feet kicking against your hip, trying her best to communicate to you what she wants. “Ma…ma…ma…”
“Yes, yes,” you murmur with a small laugh, gently swatting away her hands as she attempts to pull at your feathered top, not wanting her to pop the strings or pull any of the decorations like she did on your top from a few days ago. “You are hungry again. I know.”
Pril has been nursing almost constantly lately, always hungry and begging for the golden liquid that flows from your swollen breasts. She is growing fast for a child her age. It is clear that Pril is a strong baby, something you’ve known since you began carried her in your womb. What you didn’t know while you were pregnant is that she would grow to have the appetite of a tsurak [skimwing].
When you’re about to cradle her so she can be fed for the second time this morning, your stomach rumbles in quiet protest, reminding you that you haven’t eaten yet yourself. Having a baby, along with your other many responsibilities, the main one being Tsahìk, it is easy to forget these things, but thankfully your body is willing to keep you in check.
“Tonowari,” you call gently, glancing toward your mate, needing to gain his attention.
The Olo’eyktan looks up from where he’s seated, repairing his spear shaft that got damaged during a sparring session with some of the hunters, his way of keeping his combat skills sharp. “Yes, psakalin [honey]?” Tonowari replies while putting down his spear, eyes softening immediately when he sees Pril wiggling in your grasp.
You carefully walk over and place your daughter into his large waiting hands, needing your hands free for a few moments. “Hold her while I prepare something to eat,” you say, feeling your stomach growl again, begging for any source of nutrients. “If I do not keep my strength, she will soon complain that there is none left for her.”
When breastfeeding, mothers must eat plenty of food so they can maintain energy and milk supply. Therefore, you must eat so she can continue to happily suckle milk from your breasts until her little tummy is full and satisfied, so she can grow big and strong like her older siblings.
Tonowari nods immediately, taking Pril with ease and adjusting her position, wanting her to be comfortable as he holds her against his chest so she can feel his warmth.
Your daughter blinks up at him with wide, curious eyes, looking at her father as if he’s her whole world which makes Tonowari smile. Soon, Pril attention shifts. Her tiny hand reaches up, trying to grab her father’s akula teeth necklace. Her hands are far too small to grab it fully, but her little nails do dig into Tonowari’s skin as she tries her best to grasp it, making him lightly wince.
“You have a strong grip,” he murmurs with quiet pride, furthering his notion that once Pril is older she’ll be a great warrior just like her mother. Pril gurgles happily, moving her little fists in the air, as if she’s agreeing with her father’s statement.
While they are having some father daughter time, you move with ease around the small cooking space, slicing fruit and pulling warm fish from the cooking pot, already feeling your mouth water from the delicious aroma. You toss a cubed piece of fruit into your mouth, already starting to eat as you wait for the fish to cool off just a tad.
Behind you, Tonowari continues his quiet conversation with your youngest daughter, keeping her entertained as you tend to your hunger. “Your mother says you are always hungry,” he tells her, thinking about how just last night you were telling him that she inherited his large appetite. “I suspect she exaggerates.” He says jokingly, knowing that you are telling the truth about her eating habits. He has witnessed her hunger first hand and he can agree that her little stomach is somehow never satisfied.
Pril squirms closer against him, pressing her nose into the firm muscle of his chest, making your husband assume she wants to be cuddle so he begins to gently bounce her, thinking it’ll help her settle down. “Maybe you will grow into a great weaver,” he muses, stroking her hair, wondering what position she will feel led to once she grows old enough to make the decision. “Or a strong diver like your tsmukan [brother].”
Your daughter’s ears twitch, as if her attention has been drawn elsewhere. Pril’s little tummy begins to growl, showing that her hunger has grown stronger since you handed her off to Tonowari.
Your daughter’s ears twitch suddenly, small and reactive, as if something deep within her has shifted. Pril’s tiny nose presses more firmly against Tonowari’s chest, her face nuzzling instinctively into his warm skin. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoes beneath her cheek, the one thing that usually calms her little spirit when she’s riled up. But today it isn't working.
Pril’s stomach gives a small, impatient growl, making her brow lines furrow. Her hunger has become sharper than earlier. It is no longer a gentle feeling but an urgent pull that will no longer go unsatisfied.
Her mouth opens slightly, her tongue pressing forward as instinct takes over. Your daughter’s small hands press clumsily against Tonowari’s chest as she shifts, searching for the source of the nutrient rich fluid she gets from you. Her lips brush his skin, crawling toward what she assumes to be your breast, and she latches.
When Tonowari feels his daughter attach to him, he stills instantly, breath catching as he looks down at her in confusion. He does not move at first, clearly trying to understand what she is doing. A quiet frown forms . His hand hovers awkwardly near her back, unsure whether to adjust her or leave her be. “…What are you—” He doesn’t finish his sentence because Pril pulls back slightly, making Tonowari not feel the need to continue.
Pril’s tail begins to lash and her small face scrunches in growing frustration since she wasn't able to find any milk. She doesn’t understand because when she’s with you this always works. She nudges forward again, more insistent this time, pressing harder against her father, latching onto him for a second time.
She tries again, but she still comes up short, making her tiny fingers tighten against his skin, showing how she’s growing impatient. Pril thinks if she works harder milk will come, so while she’s still latched to her father, she bites down. And it’s not a soft bite either.
When it happens, Tonowari jerks sharply, his confusion of his daughter actions turns into pure shock as pain spikes through his chest, making a strangled sound tear from his throat. “AUGH!”
He nearly loses his hold on her, but his arm tightens at the last second purely on instinct, thankfully keeping Pril from falling to the ground. His free hand flies to his chest, eyes wide in disbelief as he looks down at the small culprit latched onto him with strong determination, clearly not willing to let up until she finds what she’s looking for. “Daughter, release!” he chokes, trying to gently pull her away without hurting her, but the attempt only seems to encourage her stubborn grip. Tonowari did say that Pril has a strong grip, now she’s showing it.
The commotion echoes through your kelku [home], making you nearly drop the plate full of food in your hands at the sudden shout from your husband. You quickly place it down and swallow the food you were chewing before running over, wondering what has transpired that calls for this loud of a reaction. “Tonowari, what has happened?!”
“She has bitten me!”
You blink, not understanding him at first. “…What?” Pril has never been a aggressive baby, so you don’t know why she would bite her father.
“Our child just bit me!” he repeats, gesturing to his chest, bringing your attention to his clearly reddened and abrasive nipple that he was finally able to get his daughter to detached from.
When you look at your husband’s wounded area, and then you look down at your daughter and how agitated she’s becoming, that is when you connect the dots. Your daughter had apparently mistaken Tonowari’s warm skin and muscular pecs for your own breasts, thinking if she latched on she would be able to find a source of nourishment, but cleary she was wrong.
For a moment you try very hard not to laugh, but the sight of Tonowari, a great warrior and fearless leader, currently defeated by your daughter who is only the size of his hand, is simply too adorable. The laughter escapes before you can try to stop it, which makes Tonowari frown immediately, not finding this situation funny. “You find this amusing.” He grumbles, rubbing his chest, trying to stop the pain.
“I am sorry,” you say between laughs, crouching down next to your husband. You place a supportive hand on his shoulder, calming down your laughter before giving him a comforting look. “I truly am.”
“She attacked me without warning.” He says, his forehead lines creasing, similarly to when he’s disciplining your oldest child, Ao’nung.
“When you hold her like that,” you point out, gesturing to his broad chest and how he’s cradling her close to his skin. “What did you expect?”
Tonowari opens his mouth to argue, but he just closes it again, thinking you could possibly have a point. This never happened with your other two children. He held Tsireya and Ao’nung in the same manner when they were Pril’s age and they never tried to bite him, so he doesn’t know what got into his daughter for her to act this way.
You move a few steps over to your medicine basket, a thin smile spreading across your lips as you reach for a small jar of healing salve. “Well,” you say lightly, applying the cool mixture to Tonowari’s skin, seeing the small indentations Pril caused to his nipple when she latched firmly onto him. “I suppose I cannot blame her.”
Tonowari eyes you suspiciously, wondering what you mean because it is clear your daughter is at fault. “Why not?”
You tilt your head, examining his body in a loving manner instead of how you would do a usual injured patient, not being able to help it when your handsome husband has his chest puffed out in front you, looking very attractive when he’s being all domestic and fatherly with your youngest daughter.
“You do have a very… impressive chest.” When you say that, your mate’s ears flicker at the compliment, making him wonder where you are going with this. “Broad shoulders,” you continue casually, flickering your eyes at him before looking back down at the affected area. “Strong muscles.”
Tonowari huffs under his breath, enjoying your praises at his physique, but not being able to properly receive the compliments when he’s in pain. “Flattery will not undo the injury.”
“I am not flattering you,” you say sweetly, continuing to rub the herbs on his wound, wanting to help wipe that grumpy expression off his face and make his smile. “I am explaining our child’s confusion.”
He gives you a long look, his eyes squinting just a tad, before his lips turn into a thin line, as if he’s trying not to smile or show any sort of amusement, but he cant help it when you look at him the way you are. “You are enjoying this far too much.”
“Maybe a little.” You admit, not being able to deny how funny yet cute this situation truly is. Once the salve is applied thoroughly, you lean back, placing the lid back on the jar. “There,” you say, putting the salve back into its original place. “It will stop stinging soon.”
Tonowari rolls his shoulders experimentally, testing to see if the herbs have begun working yet. “…It is feeling better.” He says softly, thanking Eywa that soon his pectoral muscle will no longer be in pain because he has many duties ahead of him today.
He’s always had empathy for women, he knows their bodies go through a lot when it comes to bearing children, but feeling this pain and knowing this is something you and other women in the clan go through each time they have a child, Tonowari has gained even more respect for na’vi women.
“I am glad.” You reply before gently lifting your daughter from his arms before she attempts another attack on Tonowari, not wanting her to try to bite at her father’s good side.
Her tiny face scrunches immediately in protest, not enjoying that she’s being ripped away from her father’s warm embrace. And she’s still upset at the fact she hasn’t been given any food yet.
“Mawey [calm], little one.” you murmur, settling down comfortably next to your husband. You adjust your top, moving the decorative feathers out of her way before bringing her in close, angling her in the perfect position to breastfeed. “I will feed you properly so you do not have to bite sempu [daddy] again.”
When baby Pril smells the colostrum in your milk, her nose guides her to your breast. Once she finds your nipple, she latches immediately, happy to finally be feed after not having any success with her father. As her tummy fills with milk, content little noises fill the room and her tail happily sways as her little appetite finally gets what it has been dying for.
Tonowari leans in towards you, wrapping his arm around your waist, watching the two of you with quiet amusement now that the shock of the incident has passed, though he’s still surprised about what happened. “For someone so small, she is very dangerous.”
You smirk up at him, knowing exactly where she gets that trait from. “She takes after her father.”
Tonowari snorts, not accepting that comparison, in his mind, he has done nothing along the lines of danger. “I have never bitten anyone.”
“Are you sure?” you tease, remembering an event that would say otherwise. “You were quite fierce when we first met.” You give him a “look”, one that helps jog his memory to the early years of your relationship, when you both were just two teenagers in love.
His eyes warm at the thought, remembering the times where he chased you around the island until you gave him a chance and when you did, his fierceness only became refocused… mostly in how he expressed his affections. “Perhaps… you are correct.”
Tonowari reaches over you, brushing a gentle finger along your daughter’s tiny tail as she drinks from your breast, acting as if she hasn’t eaten all morning, making him shake his head with a quiet laugh. “I battle many things,” he says, thinking of the storms, disputes, and the endless responsibilities of leading the clan, challenges he always faces head-on. Yet his gaze softens as he looks down at the small life in your arms. “Yet my daughter defeats me before breakfast.”
You grin, knowing how much enjoys being a father, and how he would not want his life to be any differently. “That is fatherhood, Olo’eyktan.” You say before leaning your head against his shoulder, feeling his hand rub the small of your back as the two of you watch your daughter drink contentedly.
For a while, neither of you says anything, allowing yourselves to just enjoy this moment of peace. You and Tonowari bask in the warmth of parenthood, listening to the ocean waves lap against your dwelling and your daughter’s soft nursing sounds filling your home.
Tonowari presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, thankful that he’s able to call you the mother of his children, that Eywa blessed you and him to create three wonderful souls together that show the love and strength within your union.
Although Pril already shows signs of being a little troublemaker, you and your mate cannot wait to see the young woman she will grow into. However… for the time being, it might be wise to keep her away from her father’s chest whenever she’s hungry so the little adorable baby you birthed, doesn’t turn into a little milk thirsty monster.
synopsis: During a brutal raid, you take a near-fatal arrow and fall from your ikran. Varang’s world shatters when she believes she’s losing her mate forever, unleashing raw desperation, reckless fury, and an intensely emotional tsaheylu reunion when you finally wake…
genre: angst with happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, recovery fic
warnings: graphic injury (arrow wound, head trauma), unconsciousness, fever/infection, near-death experience, blood, medical themes, tsaheylu (intense emotional bond)
word count: 2k
a/n: requested by anon
︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶
The raid tears across the borderlands like wildfire over dry scrub.
Varang leads from the front, her nightwraith slicing low through smoke and ash, wings cutting sharp arcs against the bruised sky. You fly just behind her right wing - your usual place - close enough to hear the low growl in her throat when she spots prey, far enough that your ikran’s wingbeats don’t tangle with hers.
The two of you move like one creature split in two; her spear already red, your bow drawn, arrows nocked and ready. The wind screams past your ears, thick with sulfur and the copper promise of blood.
Then everything changes.
A single long arrow, tipped with obsidian, rises from the chaos below like a striking viper. It punches clean through your side, just below your ribs. The impact is a hammer blow, pain exploding white-hot and immediate under your skin. Your bow slips from numb fingers, your ikran shrieking in alarm as your weight shifts, sudden and violent.
You sway. Your claws attempt to scrabble at the harness, but you’re too late.
You fall.
Varang’s head snaps around at the sound of your ikran’s cry. She sees you tumbling, sees the dark bloom of blood against your crimson paint, sees your body folding in midair like a broken wing, and a raw, guttural scream rips from her throat. Not a command, not a war cry, but something primal and shattered.
“No!”
Her nightwraith banks so hard the beast nearly stalls. Varang lowers her desperately, leaning low over the saddle, reaching one clawed hand uselessly toward you as if she could snatch you from the sky itself.
But she’s too far.
You hit the volcanic stone hard, shoulder first, then the back of your head cracks against a jagged outcrop. The world flashes black as blood begins to pool beneath your skull in a dark halo. You don’t move again.
Varang’s nightwraith slams down beside you in a storm of dust and ash. She leaps from the saddle before the wings have fully folded, feet pounding the ground as she sprints the last few strides.
She drops to her knees in the spreading blood.
“Ma yawne-” Her voice cracks. She grabs your shoulders and shakes you once, hard. Nothing. Your head lolls, eyes closed, breathing shallow and wet.
Desperation claws up her throat. She slaps you across the face; not cruel, but frantic, the crack of it loud even over the battle roar.
“Wake. Wake!” Another slap, lighter this time, trembling. “Please…”
Still nothing.
Her yellow eyes go wide, pupils blown with terror. She presses two fingers to the side of your neck, feeling for a pulse. It’s there, faint and thready. You’re barely alive, but you’re still here.
“Get the healers!” She roars at the nearest warriors, voice cracking like cooling lava. “Now! Or I will feed your spines to the vents!”
They scatter. Varang doesn’t watch them go. She gathers you against her chest, careful of the arrow still lodged in your side and the blood matting the back of your head. She cradles you like something fragile and irreplaceable, tail lashing, ears pinned flat.
Your breathing is shallow and wet. Each exhale ghosts against her throat like a dying ember. Her tail coils tight around your thigh, anchoring you to her the way it does every night in the furs. But this time it shakes.
She has faced eruptions that swallowed villages. She has poisoned her own father to save her people from weakness. She has stared down the sky people’s metal demons without flinching.
But this, this tiny, fragile sound of your lungs struggling, undoes her.
“Eywa may have abandoned us long ago,” she murmurs against your temple, the words for your ears alone, “but the fire still listens. Stay, my beloved. Burn with me. Do not dare leave me in the cold ash. I will follow you into the dark if you do.”
A healer finally arrives, breathless, carrying salves and glowing herbs. Varang snarls when the woman tries to take you from her arms. She hisses at every clumsy touch, every hesitant hand.
“Touch her gently. If she dies because you were clumsy…”
The threat dies unfinished.
They work fast under her glare. The arrow is cut free, the wound packed with steaming poultices. Your head is bandaged thickly with strips of soft hide and glowing salve. Varang never lets go, not once, until they lift you onto a litter and carry you back to the Mangkwan camp.
She walks beside it the whole way, one bloodied hand never leaving yours.
They bring you to the only place Varang trusts, the center of her own tent. The air is thick with volcanic smoke and healing herbs. You lie motionless on thick furs, arrow wound cleaned but angry-red, the bandages on the back of your head already spotting dark.
The next days are torment carved from stone.
The wound festers. Fever takes you in vicious waves, your body shaking, skin burning, breath ragged. The healers murmur grimly: the blow to your skull was brutal. Bone cracked. Blood pooled inside. They’ve done what they can, but they cannot say if you will wake. Or if you will wake as yourself.
Varang becomes stone.
She barely speaks. And when she does, it is to snap orders in a voice flat and cold. She snarls at anyone who lingers too long near the tent flap. The clan parts before her like water before a blade. She leaves the tent only once - for the next raid.
She fights like someone with nothing left to lose.
Her spear moves faster, harder, careless of her own skin. She takes cuts she knows could have avoided, and returns streaked with fresh blood and new scars, eyes dull.
When she steps back into camp, limping slightly, one of the healers is waiting outside her tent.
“She is awake.”
Varang freezes. Her pupils flare wide for a moment, golden and cat-like, absolutely enormous. For one heartbeat something raw and vulnerable flickers across her face - fear, hope, relief, all at once.
Then she shoves the healer aside with a snarled “Move.”
She ducks through the entrance, and the firelight catches your open eyes.
You’re pale, exhausted, pain etched deep in every line of your face. But you’re awake. Looking at her.
The breath is punched out of Varang’s lungs.
Her knees buckle and she drops beside the furs, hands shaking as she cups your face with reverent gentleness, thumbs brushing the edges of the bandages. She presses her forehead to yours so hard it almost hurts.
“I was so lost.” She whispers, voice cracking open. “I thought-I thought you had left. And I did not know how to burn without you.”
Tears cut clean tracks through the ash and dried blood on her cheeks. She doesn’t even try to hide them.
You’re exhausted, and your throat is raw, too sore to speak much. But your hand lifts, trembling from pain and exhaustion, and finds the braid of her kuru. You stroke the hair gently, the way you always do when words fail.
She looks up at you, eyes shining, tear-streaked, fierce and fragile all at once.
“How do you feel, ma yawne?”
You manage a faint, pained smile. “Like I fell out of the sky.”
She exhales a broken laugh.
You don’t say more. Words feel too small, too fragile for what’s crashing through you both.
Instead, your hand slides down her braid to find the glowing tip of her kuru. Your fingers brush the sensitive tendrils, coaxing them gently toward yours. The queues twitch, alive with anticipation, seeking like vines in the dark.
Varang’s breath catches as her golden eyes lock on yours, fierce and utterly unguarded. For once, the unbreakable Tsahìk looks small, like the fire in her could gutter out if you slip away again.
She nods once and leans in.
Your queues meet in one soft, electric snap, and tsaheylu ignites.
It hits like falling into lava and cool rain at once.
First comes the rush: her heartbeat slamming against yours, fast and frantic, syncing in jagged bursts until they beat as one thunderous rhythm. You feel the ache in her fresh scars from the reckless raid, the sting of cuts across her ribs, the burn in her shoulder where she took a spear meant for someone else. You taste the ash on her tongue from days without food, smell the sulfur and blood that clings to her skin like a second war paint.
And she feels you.
Every inch of your pain floods into her. The deep throb where the arrow tore through muscle, the nauseating pulse behind your bandaged skull, the bone deep exhaustion that makes even breathing feel like lifting stone. She winces visibly as your agony becomes hers, her tail lashing once before coiling tighter around your leg.
It grows deeper.
Memories cascade like sparks from a dying fire.
You see flashes of her. A child watching her village swallowed by eruption, ash raining like black snow. The moment she drove poison into her father’s veins to save what remained of her clan. Nights alone in the vents, screaming into the dark until her voice broke, convinced Eywa had turned away forever.
She sees you. The first time you knelt before her as her right hand, heart pounding with awe and fear. Stolen touches in the furs when the clan slept, her claws tracing your spine like she was memorizing every ridge. The terror of falling, knowing you might never feel her heat again.
Emotions pour unchecked. No walls, no armor.
Her fear crashes over you like a tidal wave. The suffocating void when she thought you were gone, the certainty that without you the fire in her would die to embers, leaving only ash and a hollow leader. Regret follows, sharp as obsidian, for every harsh word, every time she pushed you to the edge of battle because she couldn’t bear to admit how much she needed you close.
Only your unyielding love answers her. It wraps around her terror like glowing vines, soothing the raw edges. You push back waves of I’m here. I came back. I will always come back, until relief blooms in her chest, mingling with a fierce, possessive joy that makes her gasp against your forehead.
The bond pulses deeper still, sensations blurring: her breath on your skin becomes yours; the gentle stroke of your fingers on her kuru echoes in both of you like ripples in shared water. Pleasure and pain intertwine - your shared wounds throb together, but so does the electric thrill of connection, the sacred heat of being utterly seen.
Varang shudders. A low, broken sound escapes her as tears spill freely now, dripping onto your collarbone. She presses closer, forehead fused to yours, bodies trembling in the furs. She exhales shakily, the sound ragged with relief. Her hand finds yours, claws threading carefully between your fingers. The bond hums, alive and eternal like the heart of a volcano, steady and molten.
Slowly, the intensity ebbs, leaving just enough room to breathe. The flood becomes a deep, constant current: her strength bolstering your weakness, your warmth thawing her stone. You feel her vow settle into your bones: no more reckless charges, no more distance. She will guard you as fiercely as she guards her heart, but softer now. Yours.
She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again. Tears still gleam on her cheeks, but her gaze is steady, glowing with something new; fierce devotion, a love stripped bare.
“Ma yawne.” She murmurs, voice thick. “You are my fire.”
You manage the faintest smile, pain fading under the warmth of the bond.
“And you are mine.”
She curls fully around you then, tail wrapped possessively, one hand splayed over your heart where she can feel it beat in time with hers through tsaheylu. Her kuru stays twined with yours, the connection unbroken, a quiet golden glow between you.
For the first time since the arrow struck, the weight in her chest lifts. The fire that has always burned in her, wild and all consuming, now burns shared. Steadier. Brighter.
She presses one soft kiss to your temple, right at the edge of the bandage, and whispers against your skin,
“Rest now. I have you.”
You let your eyes drift closed, exhaustion finally winning, but safe in the cradle of her arms and the unbreakable thread of your bond.
The fire between you does not falter.
It never will.
︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶
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