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merakiui · 3 months

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never-ending noctuary; love forevermore.

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, non-con, overblot!malleus, obsession, breeding, baby-trapping, malleus is written to have two dicks, spoilers for part two of book seven note - and sitting powerful on his throne of thorns, omniscience at his fingertips, the lord of malevolence takes a bride.

An eerie, all-consuming quiet has fallen over Sage’s Island.

It is frigid and unfriendly like winter. Harsh and oppressive like silence. Painful and abrasive like brambles. Time has come to a swift halt here, and with it the people fall into never-ending euneirophrenia. Delights so dreamy shall inhabit the minds of all who sleep, the grandest gift granted to those unwilling. Like fate itself, wound around every living soul, it is inescapable. Inevitable like death—unfair and unforgettable.

But then it is also peaceful and secure. Quaint and warm like a blanket. Fluffy and floral like spring’s first kiss. Solace is far sweeter when spent in oneiric solitude, and so it will seem for one-thousand years. Forevermore, stretched taut into the future, the dream persists.

Is that not the best blessing? To those who wish to savor a fleeting moment just a second more, is this not a wish granted generously tenfold? Rather than immortalizing the past with photographs, it shall never come to pass. There is no need for bittersweet recollections or tearful farewells. The present will persevere, lived out in endless dreams.

Surely this is the correct course. Not just for Malleus, for he is a gentle, kind creature who recognizes the mutual desire for interminable merriment, but for the entirety of the island. Although in hoping for love forevermore, he has shackled himself to selfish, Epicurean pleasures. The type which normally lasts as long as a vision spent on cloud nine.

Currently, sitting proud and alone on a cold throne, Malleus knows of no greater joy.

The party may have fallen still as the grave, bodies slumbering in stiff propinquity, but it hasn’t finished. The food may have congealed, inedible and decaying, but it is there. A testament to spirits kept aloft, if only to ensure no one ever knows the desolation of endings.

Paradise is what you make of it. Thus, should you hope for it, you can walk on the clouds in your mind and never know of Icarus’s plights. You can shed insecurities and anxieties and taste delectable metamorphosis. You can be anyone and anything. You can be strong and wealthy. You can be fearless and heroic. You can be an impossible ideal.

You can be loved.

Malleus watches your seemingly lifeless form splayed on the sofa, limbs draped over that of Ace and Deuce. It’s a tranquil sight, a marionette freed from the strings of somber, suffocating life.

Under a roof of thorns, you are reborn.

Paradise is wondrous for Malleus, albeit a touch silent. He wonders what you might say if you were to stand at his side and observe this eternal slumber party. Would it fill you with awe? With appreciation? With abject terror?

Perhaps there is no use in theorizing. He doesn’t need to know, for you will love him even in sleep.

He rises, taking each step at a time. Thorny branches and roots part to make way for him, a groom traversing the aisle in search of his bride. You lie still, secrets sealed behind pretty, plush lips, and if he was not the cause for your current state he might assume you were late.

But there is no death here. It cannot reach. It will never reach because Paradise knows not of death or suffering.

Paradise is the garden before the infestation. Paradise is the body before bacterial devastation. Paradise is love before departed lamentation.

Malleus gazes at your restful face, leaning down to trace a clawed, blot-tainted finger along your cheek. There are no tears; you are a doll incapable of such sorrow, sculpted to portray perfect neutrality. He is most pleased with this development, his chest rumbling with a triumphant chuckle. Now you shall never know an ending ever again. Now you shall remain here, safe and stagnant in his arms, far from the mirror that may allow you to return home.

Gathering your body in his arms, he lifts you from the cushions. You crumble in his grasp, head lolling and arms noodling at your sides. Sagging dead weight, but he places his ear to your chest to listen to the melodic thrum of your heart. You’re alive, frailty shielded from the horrors of the world. Here, in thorny idyll, you will live forevermore.

Historically, all rulers must have someone to call their own. Whether it be by way of arrangement or convenience, strung together for the sake of conjoined power or out of obligation, this is an irrefutable fact. Historically, all rulers must bear an heir—someone to carry on the glory of an ever-present lineage.

Malleus refuses to bring a child into the world unless they are given the blessing of the one thing he was deprived of since birth.

A mother.

You fit in his embrace, a puppet tugged into a one-sided waltz. He steps over fallen bodies as he holds you against his chest, following the routine even though you aren’t awake to reciprocate.

Historically, a married pair must share the first dance. Or that’s what he’s read in fairy tales.

There are no rings here; promises are left unspoken. He won’t entertain rejection because there is no room for it in Paradise. Every unsavory, horrid thing—pestilence and pain, death and destruction, and sadness and sin—is packed away in Pandora’s box and shelved. Malleus won’t risk opening it to release the tiny shred of hope desperately clawing for escape. It’s not worth it.

He will foster his own hope if he must, and she exists in his arms—beautifully motionless.

The steps are executed with care, up the stairs and towards a lonesome chair. He attempts a twirl, lowering you into a dip. Your arms hang limply, eyes shut in permanence. Brimming with fondness, Malleus tugs you back up to press his lips to your forehead.

“Dearest one,” he mumbles, “may you know many fruitful fantasies in the arms of Morpheus.”

He reclaims his seat and situates you to face him while perched on his lap. You slump against him, near-boneless. He smiles at you, imagining the ruckus that would certainly come about from such a daring gesture. Sebek would squawk at you to have more respect and dignity. Silver would tut and shake his head. Lilia would look on in amusement.

These are small pleasantries, little wishes he hopes to witness someday.

Historically, a married pair must consummate their bond.

Malleus’s fingertips flit across your figure, feeling fabric beneath his palms. He tries to exercise restraint and take it slow—everything in moderation, Lilia would remind him—but he can’t contain his nympholepsy. Your clothes are discarded at once, shredded to scraps in his haste. He moves clumsily, following the searchlight of intrinsic ardor. You’re softer when bare, he observes, peeling your bra from your skin. A pallid hand presses down onto your breast, the pudge of which caves beneath his fingers. He withdraws and it bounces back to its shape.

Fascinating, he marvels with wide, enchanted eyes.

Claws tweak at your hardened nipples next. He’s careful because you’re notably weaker. Even in sleep, he must mind his hedonism. Too much and you will break. Too little and he’ll be left unsatisfied. Malleus watches your expression. It was mostly neutral, but now your eyebrows are twitching in response to his touch.

In sleep, you are the most vulnerable.

He knows this because he’s peered in from afar, admiring you through a glass barrier while you slept unaware in Ramshackle. He would never do anything without invitation. Though it may not be in writing, your body is oh-so-inviting. And he indulges because he’s only known this fervor in the deepest, darkest dreams.

Curiously, in his pursuit of passion, Malleus happens upon the special space between your legs. Delicate like a flower, it’s the prettiest part of your anatomy. If he wishes to connect with you, to tie himself to you in unholy communion, he must acquaint himself with this sliver of seventh heaven. He’s never seen one up close; the sight is foreign but very welcome. He drinks it in, burning your form into his retinas. Two fingers trace your labia, stroking along flowery folds in V-shaped strokes. You twitch in his arms, an unconscious, knee-jerk reaction.

At some point, in the middle of his experimental exploration, Malleus begins to hum. It’s a soft, genial lilt. Low and soothing, the lullaby fills the silent halls of Diasomnia’s common room like poison gas.

He contemplates whether this is enough. Can you feel these sensations even when you’re so deep in your dreams? Perhaps so, for when he brushes back the hood protecting your clit to rub at it you soak his fingers. Lubricious, your wetness shimmers on his fingertips when he pulls them away to admire the very essence of you. Without hesitation, he places his fingers on the pad of his tongue to clean both. It’s a divine taste, proof of pleasure.

You cannot speak, so instead your body does so for you. A most bewitching behavior.

Malleus’s hand slithers back towards home, his fingers sliding in with surprising ease. Gummy walls cling to slender digits, embracing the intrusion as if it’s meant to be. With each pump of his fingers, your body warms. The sinful squelch of scissoring fingers joins his humming in a salacious song. Every now and then, you spasm in his arms, your lips parting ever so slightly to release a sigh or a breathy moan. It’s musical, a whimsy he’s only just discovered.

“My beautiful bride,” Malleus croons, “you will know love in my arms. Love forevermore, here in this sanctuary. Fear not, for I have done away with all that may terrify and traumatize.”

Pressure is straining beneath the belt, an itch that must be promptly dealt with. Removing his fingers, he shifts you on his lap so that he may free his cocks from confinement. Twin monstrosities curve towards his stomach; perhaps you’d have been frightened if you were awake to behold them. His hand settles on the small of your back, steadying you as he lines one of them up with your body. The tip just reaches past your navel. For a moment, Malleus ponders whether he might break you.

Careful now, he can hear Lilia’s chiding. Impatience will lead to injury.

He heeds the unspoken warning, lifting you with both hands until the head of his cock is kissing your pussy. And then, slowly, he lowers you down onto him. Your pussy stretches around him, a snug squeeze that only grows tighter with every inch swallowed. Malleus pulls you flush against his chest when he’s halfway slotted, his breathing staggered. Your body quivers, walls fluttering around him, while his other unsheathed cock presses against your navel. Pre-cum smears on your stomach.

He’s determined to cherish you, thrusting all the way to the hilt after a few determined tries. It’s a firm fit, but it’s still bliss. Hissing through his teeth, brows knitted in concentration, Malleus wraps his arms around you and fucks. Mindless, mostly, but with the intent to reach the only acceptable end here: orgasmic ecstasy. He makes up for the lack of motion on your part by moving his hips to meet yours as he rocks you up and down. Whimpers slip past your lips; he shushes you with song, humming through groans and grunts.

This is love.

Malleus thinks so when he positions your hands over his other untouched cock. The illusion doesn’t last long because your hands are quick to fall away. Instead, he grasps your hand, guides it back to his shaft, and pumps himself using your precious palm for friction.

You’re bounced up and down in a parody of consensual copulation. Malleus dwells in imagination, picturing you in a wedding gown. He considers what you might say, the vows you would undoubtedly swear, and the sweet nothings you’d exchange late into the evening. He’d twirl you across an elegant ballroom while everyone looks on with tender adoration and reverence. He’d show you the stars hanging just within reach, and when you’re swept up in riveting romance the sky is tangible and dreams are spun from sugar.

He’d place you on his bed, stripping you of your dress, hands trailing up to tug the frilly garter from your thigh, and you’d smile at him, open your arms and welcome him with mutual affection. You’d bloom for him like a moonflower, your heart beating in sync with his, as he fulfills the final promise—one so bodily imperative. An oath to disturb desolate halls with noise. To hear the pitter-patter of tiny footfalls upon stone floors—he can’t imagine anything more harmonious.

You would soften throughout the months, bright with that foretold pregnancy glow. He would press his hands to your rounded belly and feel squirming within, restless kicks and nudges. You’d discuss potential names over breakfast, and he would hover even though he knows you’re plenty capable. But he worries because you’re so fragile and fleeting. So pretty. So round with child. He wouldn’t leave you alone for a moment; you’re far too enchanting. Perhaps, in some distant future, he’ll lower to the height of your stomach and sing to the baby.

A smile would tug at your lips and you’d reach down to pat his head, running your fingers over his horns. And then—

Malleus cracks his eyes open, his breath hot against your face. His chest heaves as he comes down from the high of domestic daydreams to find your stomach spattered with cum. Swallowing thickly, he peers between your bodies at your pussy stretched around his other cock.

Oh, he came inside.

Unexpectedly. Or perhaps not, for this was his intention. But once is not nearly enough, and he must fill you until you’re fit to burst—until it’s biologically certain you’re pregnant.

An emotion flickers on your face. Malleus mistakes it for jubilation, the type which calls forth a sunshower on your cheeks. He kisses the tears trailing down your face, ending at your lips for a chaste peck.

This is not the finale. It is simply the beginning.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x reader #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus #n/sfw #tw: noncon #tw: breeding #tw: baby trapping #tw: somnophilia

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fluorynn · 2 months

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💙 — 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 !

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Valentine’s spent with Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo’ak !

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 : @aristocolourway @deadgirlrin @missisaz @faintfill @honeycinnamon @by-bananant @lauren1523 @xobridgertonblues @hungrynessforfics @dananannanana @innercreationflower @angie-1306 @cozybubble

𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 : @cafekitsune !!!

a/n : It is love day, everyone !!! To those Avatar lovers still out there who adore these characters — these are for you ! Please enjoy, and happy Valentines Day!<33

Valentines Day with Ao’nung, Tsireya, and Rotxo !

— Neteyam !

Anchored. Unrelenting. Sizzling. Neteyam’s mind was anchored, his heartbeat unrelenting, and his body sizzling over your dampened frame. The propinquity he shared with you allayed him, the water’s ambience soothed him. Shallow were Awa’Atlu’s pristine oceans for each gentle wave covered you both lying within it, complying to the silhouette of his body lithe and tendered into yours.

A rarity of a sight it was to witness him, Neteyam the strong and mighty warrior, in a state of relaxation, for he habitually carried a solemn countenance, resolute in his duties. As not only the eldest son but older brother, the golden child, he adhered dutifully to his responsibilities. And you, trainee under your mother, Tsahik, in hopes to become your Clan’s future Tsahik were in freedom from its worries for the time being, in freedom of being the eldest child and daughter, something that had drawn one another together. The profound joy derived from sharing tranquility with someone who served as the paramount source of it marked an unparalleled and cherished experience, and you liberated him all those titles as he liberated you, giving each other the simplest and most valuable one yet: your Neteyam, his Y/N.

Tucked beneath the outline of your jaw was his head, the wet entwines of his hair grazing your turquoise flesh with every movement of his burrowing deeper into your neck. The shore’s aroma was strong from the current breeze laced with the currents, the aromas you’ve inhaled, embraced and adored your entire life; but Neteyam’s potent fragrance was the single one that inebriated you in this moment. Pandora’s multicolored fluorescence illuminated the ocean’s vibrant blues, clashing breathtakingly with both your distinct tones under the night sky. This felt right, this felt nice and tranquil. Something you knew he needed far more than you ever did.

You felt the brims of his lashes fluttering, hearing him breathe in the pure essence that is solely yours, and this dragged a shuddering sigh from your lungs. You raised the three of your fingers and let them trace down his spine, tips soon straying from its path to outline his endearing stripes, to memorize the star-like specks shimmering upon his rich blue contours. The lingers of your ascend elicited a shiver from the young warrior, an elicit you hoped for.

“That feels nice…may you do it again?” You couldn’t help the giggle bubbling up your throat at his request, so sweet, so polite in asking even when eager for your touch, so Neteyam. Not a second of the day goes by without the lightest of contacts with you, always savoring each and every touch you gave his being and you could never ever deny him the privilege, so of course you more than willingly agreed. There it was, that sound of acceptance, that feel of content that you chased when with him, it is what you savor; to gratify him, to fortify him.

“I have made you a gift for you, ma ‘Teyam,” Your soft utterance brought his head to lift from its haven within your warmth while his lips twitched. “You did not need to do that, my love. I can conform with the gift of your presence. That is all I need and want.” His fingers rose to softly thread through your dark tresses, chuckling at the pretty purse your lips now formed despite the flush pigmenting your cheeks.

“Rutxe, Neteyam ( please ). I did it for you out of my love. Please allow me to show you, and please accept it because it took some time to make it.” He knew denying you was a task he had never done, and Neteyam knew he could never even comply with it when it came to you. Those alluring swirls of blue orbs you carried relished him to let out a deep sigh but reluctantly agreed, for he did not want your efforts to go to waste, much less when it was made from the affections you held for him.

You lightly tapped his shoulder and he pushed himself away from you, much to his dismay, though he was genuinely intrigued as to what you have made for him. Your fingers reached behind your neck, unclasping a necklace above one he had given you with, though he hadn’t been aware of though the way it was woven had been familiar, and his golden hues brimmed confusion at how there was another similar with its design like the one now in your palm, displayed for him to catch the way the one you held carried a vibrantly blue stone in the middle, assisted with 2 tiny stones accompanying each side.

“It is a necklace.”

You nodded happily, bringing his wrist out of the water and had him splay his fingers out to place the jewelry there. Your translucent gaze caught his own and smiled at how curiosity colored his beautiful features. “Would you like me to put it on, pretty boy?” His eyes resisted from rolling at the nickname given, but he would admit it had grown quite noticeable on him; his ears batted bashfully from the sound, his tail swaying in anticipation, creating cute splashes against the ocean that made you giggle beneath his playful glare. “Yes, please.”

He settled himself in front of you as you kneeled, carefully moving the longer length of his single braid before it was assisted by the myriad of his much thinner ones. You smiled to yourself at the way he exhaled deeply from your feathering touches, and you knew that he was waiting patiently for you to elaborate the reason for your gift. “I know how much you miss your home, so with the help of your sister and mother, I made this out of the material you used back in the Forest.”

He turned back with a softness in his eyes, and he caught onto the similar lace accentuating your neck had, the one he’d given you; the middle being an oval-shaped, light blue stone while assisted by soft colored stones. He stayed quiet, knowing there was more you wished to say, but his heart couldn't help but feel concerned at the way your ears so very slightly flattened alongside your head. “I know my father said you are Metkayina now…but I am sure that if Eywa gave you the chance, that when conflict is over, you’d like to go back with your People–”

“If that ever were to happen, I would not leave you, if that is what you are thinking. I will come back to you, Y/N.” He was in haste to reassure those doubts, those fears, not wanting to think or continue a life without you by his side, without you as his future mate. Neteyam did not know anymore what path has been set for his family or himself, but he much rather it be one with you in it and him in yours. To which is why he paused for a moment before he reached to take his necklace off. His fingers then slithered between the long cascades of your locks and to the nape of your neck without tearing his eyes from yours, and unclasped your own necklace.

“Neteyam, what–” Unaware you were to the exchange he’d done, the necklace made for him now adorning your neck while yours adorned his. Your eyes shyly peered up, chest blossoming a rareness of warmth as he gave you a precious smile and interlocked his fingers within yours. “We now wear each other’s, so we carry a part of the other everywhere. No matter how far away we are from each other, no matter the time, no matter the People, I am and will forever be yours, Y/N.”

Gleaming and utterly gorgeous was your smile, and he took in the purity of your beauty, of your love. “And I, too, am and will always be yours, Neteyam.” He kissed you, sweetly and delicately yet enough to have your mind and heart soaring higher than you ever thought possible. “Wherever, whenever.”

He gave you one more of his precious smiles before settling back down into your neck, soft kisses brushing and accompanied by the water’s light current across your skin.

— Kiri !

There was noise, some semblance of it at least, you thought. Yet Pandora’s outside world was reduced with every word spewing from Kiri’s lips. You decided then and there that no other melody could vanquish the one she created, not even your songcord – of course, you’d never say that aloud to anyone besides her.

Kiri, the Na’vi girl with humanistic features that everyone in Awa’atlu thought to be odd, even you. Yet not the bad kind, never the bad when it came to the Sully girl. Beyond compare and contrast was her beauty, alluring was her smile. It was easy to get lost in it, so effortlessly to overawe its brilliance.

Kiri’s feet very lightly whirled within the translucency of the waters, the glittering light of Pandora’s tiny fishes circling her motions. You scrutinized her every expression though, smiling at the way her eyes brimmed with thrill down at the little creatures while your focus remained solely on your Kiri.

Something then fell from her lips – a subtle tug down following afterwards when she turned to look at you. Her once lax-hold on your hand was quick to direct and persistent, and this time your gaze fell to your twined fingers and smiled even more at the sight. But to reassure her, your thumb grazed over the back of her palm lovingly and gave a small nod. Kiri protested your dissociation for she was not indulgent with it in this second, not amused of your dazing irises. If only she could know one did not – couldn’t or shouldn’t ever be allowed to dissociate when around her existence. If anything, the only possibility for you was to associate with her. Kiri, despite the silent and rather be reserved with her thoughts and emotions, was so worth listening to, so worth being able to associate with the way her eyes twinkled brighter the the fluorescence Pandora had to offer, dimming every light encasing you as you sat at the edge with your feet dangled in the water, life wavering you as the night’s stars shimmered.

“I don’t think my family believes that I can feel her, Y/N.” She rolled her eyes with a soft scoff, the act that anyone else would believe as disrespectful and angry but you knew her; you knew this facade, how much this tethered her heart with hurt and sadness. And you also knew – witnessed the strong connection Kiri had with Eywa, and even if you hadn’t you believed in her word with no doubts, no hesitations. Of course, she was reluctant in how you quickly believed her but you reassured the Omaticayan girl. You gave her the closest thing there was to feeling like she did belong, like she did have something – someone to emotionally open up to and depend on. She then smiled softly, “But as long as someone believes me, that someone being you, I think I can settle with tha–”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The sudden blurt of your declaration halted her words. The rareness of a blush pigmenting beneath those glittering star specks across her cheeks. You didn’t see it because her face dipped down as quick as it came, yet you didn’t need to. You knew Kiri, purely and confidently. “I made you something, by the way.”

Her head lifted at your words and her nose scrunched. “Why, out of all days, today?”

“Your brother had told me something about … a festivity Sky People have. One your father said they had back on their planet.” You paused, eyes averting. “He asked me for help in making something for Tsireya and while I did…I was convinced to make you something.”

Her eyes squinted as if trying to recall this holiday before realization settled in and a groan erupted from her throat. “That festivity is so cheesy, I swear. Why would you make me something?”

You shrugged, a bit confused as to why she thought this, “The way he spoke about it intrigued me… you do not want the gift then?”

Her eyes widened and mouth pursed. “But I didn’t get you a gift.”

“Having you is more than a gift.”

She groaned once more, but it was a mirthful sound. “You need to stop hanging out with Lo’ak. And my dad maybe. But okay, fine…let me see it.”

You grinned widely and brought your legs out of the water to retrieve the gift and returned with it hidden behind your back as you settled down, “Give me your feet.”

“Perv. Why out of all things my feet?”

“Kiri, please just listen! – What is a perv?” You shook your head before bringing one hand to her knee. “Never mind – Come on… it is nothing bad.” Her brow was hitched up high, letting a few beats go by until she sighed and gave in, propping both her dampened feet over your thigh. “Now what?”

You goofily grinned at the glare she gave you when you squeezed her foot. “Close your eyes.”

She narrowed her eyes even more , trying to inspect and unravel what you were up to. “If you tickle my feet, I will personally end you.”

“Everyday in your presence, you end me by taking my breath away.” That brought out a groan and laugh, her eyes crinkling beautifully. “You’re so corny, I swear. But fine, let’s get it over with.”

You chuckled but continued, fingers very lightly curling around her ankle and wrapped the piece you had made for her, occasionally letting the tips of your fingers stray the heel of her foot. “Stop! Y/N, that tickles, stop it or I will open my eyes!” She’d huff at the whispered giggles you would let out, trying to keep the deep furrow between her brows and yet with every joyous sound you made, she could no longer contain the warm smile curling her mouth. You adjusted the piece on the other ankle then, smiling proudly at your work. “Open them.”

Kiri’s lashes fluttered as she complied and very quietly gasped. Her feet had been embroidered with incredibly crafted barefooted sandals, the color scheme assisting browns, yellows, and green tiny fragments of trinkets, and she recognized the patterns to be similar to the necklace around her neck, the one that once belonged to her mother.

Her head snapped to you. “W-what, how did you—”

You smirked, “It helps hanging out with your brother and dad.”

Golden irises broadened in awe as she retracted her feet from your lap, her leg bending as her fingers brushed over the fine jewelry. “How did you even make this?”

“It took time…and a few minor injuries with the beads, but nothing my mother couldn’t fix,” She looked down at your hands, tiny and faint cuts scattering your digits and palms and she frowned. “You skxawng,” she lightly hit the back of your head but reached for your hands, bringing them close to her face and placed a soft kiss over each scratch. “You beautiful, considerate, lovable skxawng.”

“Don’t know if I should feel insulted or flattered,” you chuckled out. She giggled, bringing one of your palms to her cheek and the pads of your fingers stroked her bangs, giving her that heartwarming look that always mollified her insides. “Thank you, Y/N…but I still didn’t get you anything.”

You waved her off, “Do not worry about it… though I do have another surprise.”

“Again, I didn’t get you anything!”

“You didn’t need to! Look –” You outstretched your leg over her lap revealing your ankle being bejeweled with a similar patterned anklet. “I'm matching with you now!” She grinned widely and feathered her touch over it before wrapping her hands around your leg and tugged you closer. “I love it. I love you, in fact.” she didn’t give you time to respond because her complete enamour with you led her to kiss you soft, firm, lovingly.

— Lo’ak !

“My dad had told me of a celebration the Sky People once had on their planet — a celebration that included gift giving.” Gift giving that included the special gift in a pocket tied to Lo’ak’s loincloth, unaware to you.

“Really?” You smiled, a wonder and intrigue morphing your features. “That seems like something we do here when courting your future mate! Is there a name for this celebration?”

“Valentines Day. That is its name…but it’s not only about the gift giving, if not the motive behind it.” The swaying motions your interlocked hands created slowed down as the tips of his fingers pressed deeper into your skin. “Oh? And what is that, ma Lo’ak?”

He smiled briefly at the nickname given, a reflection of what his mother called his dad, and the love they shared swelled his heart of the love he shared with you. “To celebrate any sort of connection with your loved ones. Preferably friendship, admiration…love.”

“Lo’ak, what is this?” The melodic sound of your giggles normally mesmerized him, eased his nerves with the soft joyous sound. Today, under the setting eclipse should be no different, for this is how you spend your evenings together; hands clasped together, swinging through the air while the both of you strided through Awa’atlu’s sands, the winds astoundingly tousling through the rich ringlets of your hair, and you’d both soothe each other’s struggles of the days with sweet words and gentle touches.

But today, his nerves could not be tamed by even you, his sweet girl, as he stopped his steps indicating you to do the same, and stood in front of you with a shell-made case in his tight grasp, his saffron colored eyes looked anywhere but those cerulean ones he adored endlessly. The points of his ears flitted from his resistance of emotions while his tail lashed, and your smile faltered with the final sign that indicated his nervousness; the way he practically chewed off the corner of his lip, incisors puncturing into the flesh.

“Lo’ak, what is wrong — are you okay? Is something the matter?” The soft tone and light touch of your hand on his clenching one brought his gaze up, and his brows knitted in awe at the delicacy of your features, of the ocean pools you carried. He swallowed hard, briefly smiling with a nod.

“D-do you know what a ring is?”

A subtle quirk resided between your eyes but nodded. “I do not wear them…but I do know what they are. A type of jewelry worn on the hand, yes?”

He nodded, thumbs tapping over the shell’s thin dents. “What does it mean to you? I-if I gave you one? For this celebration of love that Sky People have?”

Your lips parted and the corners threatened to lift into a smile, but kept quiet as you observed his expression. “I would be more than happy… especially if it came from you—”

“But do you know the purpose of a ring? What would it mean to you?” He felt the pulsing of his heart, practically heard it and wouldn’t be surprised if you too could, for the way its wild and profound beating hammered against his chest with each pump of blood in and out of the organ.

You thought for a moment, trying to connect a response that would somehow calm him. The three of your fingers fiddled over the five of his, smiling at the way his deeper blue tones contrasted with your aquamarine ones, coming together as one. “It will be an act of affection on your part if you did. And I would cherish it very much. Though I do not know the…actual significance of a ring.”

His father had told him of the ways humans bonded to each other for eternity without the intimacy of tsaheylu, of how all the things tied to love were forged into a single promise, a single piece of jewelry such as a ring.

“Why did you never get mom a ring then?” He recalled Tuk questioning, and he would only chuckle while scratching the back of his neck. “Your mom isn’t fond of human things and the Na’vi’s got their own thing for marital acts, baby… besides you need five fingers for this to work.”

But that did not matter to him, not in this case, because when he heard and unraveled the details behind a ring, he found it to be beautiful and significant. You had been one of the greatest things that have ever occurred to him since the Sky People returned. Since he had to flee from the only home he’s ever known. Since the death of his big brother. And in the months that he has known you, in the months living in uncertainty and fear only for it to be washed away by those ocean eyes of yours, he found a firm certainty in something after a long time; about the love he felt for you, about you deserving something that beautiful, that significant. “Why do you ask?”

Because within this shell, the shell you and I happened to catch from the bottom of the ocean and you praised me for it, is a ring that isn’t exactly for marriage but as a promise to you of my undying love and promising future I will make sure to have with you. Because I am certain that I do not ever want to lose you, because you have seen me at my worst when he died. I cannot risk going on without you.

Another bob motioned up his throat before his shaking fingers opened the case in his palm, catching onto the soft gasp emitted from your lips.

“Dad told me the meaning, and I learned that it signifies an eternity of love; no beginning, no end. That the hole in the middle, it’s a gateway that leads to things and events known and unknown.” His accent was increasing its thickness as he spoke, internally cursing and hoped that you could still understand him. “The marital ring means forever, and I know that I want forever with you,”

It took you a moment to recognize the chiseled figure over the twig-like band — a single pearl in the middle, twinkling and impressively tiny trinkets embedded around the band. You knew it must’ve taken the Omaticayan boy quite some time to create this. Though you then caught a glimpse of a new necklace around his neck, one that assisted a pearl similar to the one upon the ring .

“But in the meantime, I want to give you what they call a promise ring, a-and when the time comes, I can….if you’ll take me, be your mate. Forever.”

Tears glistened the vibrancy of your irises, threatening to fall down your cheeks, clogging the words within your throat. All you could do was create a wobbly smile as he took ahold of your hand and slipped the ring around your middle finger, sliding perfectly into place.

“And as soon as everything gets cleared out, as soon as we hit that age, I won’t hesitate in making this the real thing, h-how does that sound to you?”

The sudden wrap of your arms around his shoulders and the soft pecks meeting his face spoke the answer, and he chuckled against your lips. “Happy Valentine's Day, baby.”

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