mochi-yu

[mochi-yu]

hey luvs just wanted to let you know that a book on wattpad just compiled one of your works with other authors' works in a book called "Lo'ak Oneshots" by kiaraxrvse sooo thought u might wanna know

Ahh thank you so much for letting me know!! You’re a real one 🥹🫵 seems like they credited me so all is good!

[mochi-yu]

Not so much of a Neteyam girlie but THIS made me rethink my choices..

BY YOUR HANDS ALONE

neteyam sully x gn!reader

notes: this is silly & overtly fluffy & all over the place if i am completely honest rn. neteyam is a little flustered & probably ooc. sorry :’)

"there you are."

"here i am," you mirror back instantly, hardly sparing a glance up at the far too familiar voice as your fingers continue to work at chopping up some vegetables. it's a busy day—a momentous day. there is no time to waste.

"let me help," neteyam offers, already making moves to steal your knife from you as he steps to your side.

but you weave it away from his grasp, nudge him back with your shoulder and point the knife at him as you address him. "aht, don't think so," you differ, then continue your slicing. "besides, don't you have your own tasks to get to, mr. mighty warrior?"

days like this require a lot of preparation; everyone chipping in and doing their part so that it all gets done and runs smoothly. if even one person slacks off, it could cause a rift in sanctified plans. and that simply wouldn’t do. no, it would not.

"i have completed all of them, actually," he retorts, but he shrivels when you narrow your eyes up at him. "okay, almost all of them."

you scoff, let your pupils meet your sockets with a roll as you pry the truth out of him. of course, one of the most important days of the year and it is now that neteyam chooses to have an irresponsible whim. you aren’t sure what you’re gonna do with him.

"your mother will have your tail if she finds one thing out of place for tonight, you know this." it isn't necessarily a warning, but there is some tip-off in your tone. "you must get everything done."

neteyam hums, leans his hip against the raised wood that you are using as a makeshift counter. he says nothing, simply watches you. takes into account how you dice up the vegetables in front of you diligently before sliding them to the side with your knife and moving onto the next ones. his stare is driving you crazy—no one works well under pressure, after all.

it causes you to have a slight blunder; a misstep. you cut a pattern a tad too fast and send a slice of root tumbling towards the ground. neteyam's instincts are superb, quick, and he catches it before it hits the dirt. mumbling a thank you under your breath as he places it back on the tray, you find the heir before you still not making a move to speak.

you aren't sure why it unnerves you so.

"what do you have left to complete?" it's not the question you want to ask, but 'what the hell do you keep staring at?' doesn't sound quite as nice. so you settle on it.

you take a pause, a breath, to turn to him. throughout the years you have seen the eldest sully child wear many expressions. ones tainted by smiles, irritation, pride, devotion—but this one has you tipping your head in the most peculiar way.

because timidness is not something you think you've ever seen don the strong features of neteyam sully.

he carries himself with such an air of confidence; shoulders pressed back and chin held high—not arrogant, but undaunted. he does not shift gaze unless he is avoiding scoldings and he does not suck in his cheek unless he is fighting frustration. so, you wonder, what could possibly have his face contorted in such a reticent manner. if you did not know any better, you’d almost call his demeanor a rendition of shy. but that seems rather uncharacteristic of him, doesn’t it?

"ah—are you sure you don't need help with that?" he's deflecting, brushing off your inquiry like he hasn't heard it. and you can't decide whether you find that amusing or concerning.

he's making way for your knife again and you twist your arm to hold it out of his reach behind you. you eye him carefully, flit your gaze all around him to pick up on anything that you can that would explain his behavior.

"tell me." it's not an order, you aren't demanding, but neteyam nods his head like he's respondent of such.

"my father told me i needed a, uhm," he stutters, licks his lips, like he's tripping over his own tongue. and it's undeniable the way you see his ears twitch. "for the celebration tonight. i need a.."

"a what, neteyam?" you press, cock your brow up at him. you don't think you've ever seen him like this. never witnessed him so.. "you need a what?"

"a.. date."

so fidgety.

"a date?" you repeat with widening eyes.

"no, no not a—not a date really but i need someone for the—“

"the staining ceremony.” you finish for him, continue his sentence because with all his blubbering you aren’t sure he’ll ever spit it out.

he nods curtly.

the celebration tonight is for all the young warriors who have proved themselves throughout the calendar year as being strong willed and great protectors of the clan. neteyam, of course, is one of them. has been since he earned the right to be titled as such. so perhaps it should have clicked in your head that he’d be searching for a partner for the staining ceremony portion of the night.

but a part of you—if you’re being completely honest with yourself—just figured he had one already. events like this take weeks of planning; most warriors find their artisan a fortnight in advance. because it cannot just be anyone.

the partner one chooses for the staining ceremony must be someone with whom they feel a connection. some of the older warriors choose their mates. some of the youngest choose their mother or father. some settle for siblings. others, in brazen acts of outstretched hands, choose a mate unbonded; one who they harbor feelings for but have yet to seal such in the eyes of Eywa.

you cannot lie and say you had not pondered over who neteyam’s choice would be. a part of you thought he would pick kiri—they have always been so close and she has been his partner for such ceremony before. but, you are not deaf to the murmurs of your village, you are not ignorant of what has been passed from mouth to ear of all that will listen. there have been other… prospects who have been suggested to neteyam for this special commemoration.

your name has not been among them.

“well,” you continue, tear your eyes away from him and get back to the task at hand. there is no need to dwell on such things and fall behind. you have just one more batch of greens after this to prepare then you will be done and can walk away from all this. “if you’re here to ask my opinion on who your choice should be, i’m not sure i will prove to be much help.”

a shut down; a cut off. you’d like this conversation to be over as soon as possible because it’s making your fingers itch. you’re offering him a gateway to close the topic off.

but he doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“no,” he chuckles, now, and you can tell he’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. it’s breathy; like he’s punched it out of his chest and finally broken past the barrier of whatever flusteredness had him trapped before. “that’s not why i came to find you.”

“if it’s to convince kiri to sacrifice herself to do it for you again this year, i’m not game for that either.” you don’t understand why his laughter leaves you agitated, why this whole situation has caused an odd twisting in your gut.

“that won’t be necessary,” he disputes, “i do not need kiri to be my partner this year.”

your fingers fumble, your slicing stutters. “oh?” and you want to kick yourself for how your voice hitches. you clear your throat, bite the corner of your lip that neteyam can’t see. “convince some other poor soul to do it for you? is it zuy’nik? i know she presented you a kill from her hunt recently.”

neteyam hums. “no. i have not chosen zuy’nik.”

you grip your knife harder, focus carefully on the blade as you chop down on a bundle of leaves. your throat is dry, your heart is thundering. you feel silly.

“sënuul, then?” you question, do your best to sound as disinterested as possible even though your chest is burning to know who could be lucky enough to have been picked by the heir himself. “i hear many young warriors wish for her. they say she has delicate hands.”

your hands—in contrast—have grown tense; your chops near erratic. being this worked up over a man who is not your mate seems so futile, so nonsensical. if your mother were here to see you now she’d call you childish.

but is it so childish to want things your heart yearns for?

“while that may be true,” neteyam agrees with the sentiment, and that makes your stomach lurch, “it is not sënuul either.”

“then who is it? who could you possibly—“

a hand covering yours has you cutting yourself off. neteyam’s palm melds over your knuckles; stops your unsafe cutting and stills your wrist’s movements. before you can even bring yourself to look at him, calloused fingers are hooking around your chin. swiveling your head around, you have no choice but to meet his gaze. and it is not averting, not twinkling with tepidness like it was before. you think, for a moment, that’s because he’s passed the feeling onto you.

“i do not wish for any other partner in this clan.” and his voice does not waver, does not stumble, now. you swallow as you listen. “i came here to ask if you would do me the honors, for tonight.”

your tongue feels like cotton; the fuzz of it floating to your brain to make everything go static. this is.. not what you had expected.

you had expected to follow neytiri’s orders for preparing the food for the meals that would be shared. you had expected to dress yourself in the ceremonial clothing and jewelry you keep for these special occasions. you had expected to stand around the edges of the circle during the opening dance, serve food to the elders, and sit with a content tight smile as you watched kiri declare neteyam’s war paint for the third year in a row before the true celebration began.

you had not expected yourself to be standing face to face with neteyam, ears twitching embarrassingly sporadic, as he asks you to join him in one of the most intimate and important events of a warrior’s life.

and you suppose you can use that element of surprise as the reason why you find yourself a tad bit speechless while you nod dumbly. a wide grin cracks across his face, curves up his cheeks as he lets out another breathy laugh.

“thank you,” he murmurs, and he still hasn’t let go of your chin. “i was worried i would not get the chance to ask you in time. i was pushing it, but i tried to get all my other duties done as fast as i could.”

now that, the mention of time, finally knocks you out of your little lovesick trance.

“hey, wait,” you huff, shove at his chest lightly with your free hand. “you should have asked me sooner! i should have already had your stain pattern planned out, and—and now i have to go get all of your paints and i didn’t factor in the time for that. you’re terrible!”

“ah, i’m not terrible. i am sure you can just wing it,” he waves off, simpers like this is funny.

“wing it?” you gape at him. because he genuinely cannot be serious. “this will be your war paint pattern for the rest of the year. if it’s bad then you will be stuck with it. you want me just to wing that?!”

“why not? i have faith in you, i’ve put myself into your hands.” and it’s meant to playful, you know this, but the way he’s looking at you proves his words hold their full weight regardless. “don’t be mad at me.”

“oh, i’m mad,” you retort, brush him away as you get back to slicing because now you really do not have the time for distractions. “i cannot believe you have waited until last minute.”

“would you like me to ask someone else?” he queries, and you whip your head over to level him with a glare. “i mean, i am sure sënuul would be honored to be the partner of the future olo’eyktan.”

“you know, i liked you better when you were sputtering and nervous,” you spit back, retract your attention once again. “terrible. truly terrible.”

“ah, do not be mad at me,” he levels again, “what can i do to have you forgive me?”

“nothing. you will never be forgiven.” with no hesitation, but also no malice. your bite holds no venom, and your cheeks are still warm. such hypocrisy you spew.

“nothing?” he questions, and you don’t even have to see his face to know he is smiling. there he is again; the neteyam who holds his chin up high and taunts his brother into mindless games to prove his worth. you admire this neteyam; love this neteyam.

this neteyam grabs your face and tugs you forward before you can think of another mindless rebuttal to spout.

the kiss is light but fervent, and if you were a poetic person you might just say that his lips taste like future promises you already intend to keep. the fight drains from your body and you find no urge to bring it back. this neteyam seems to know how to quell you, how to dispel your frustration and wipe away your grievances like fogged up glass. so easy, so effortlessly.

he pulls away languidly, breath puffing against your lips. "forgive me?" he asks again, and you find yourself nodding before he even finishes the question.

he turns your head to peck your cheek then drops his hands to finally successfully steal the knife still held in yours. you tip your head, blinking through the daze to inquire what he's doing.

"i can finish that, you know."

"i know," he answers, then flashes you a crooked grin that has your stomach twisting in a way far different than before. "but don't you think you should start planning how you want to trail your hands over me?"

and, oh. part of you wants to hit him for that. but part of you wants to tug him in by the neckpiece he dons and get him to shut up by an alternative method.

as you reach forward to run your hand ever so heedlessly up his chest, a faux illusion of planning your mapping, you think you might just settle on the latter.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

[mochi-yu]

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 & 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 | will be updated periodically

Feel free to interact or ask anything as well, I enjoy talking with you guys!

Avatar / Avatar the way of water

➶ 𝐋𝐨'𝐚𝐤

Empathy pt.1

Empathy pt.2

Empathy pt.3

Empathy pt.4

In the works | Lo’ak/f! Na’vi! reader

Serendipity | no chapters released as of yet.

Requests | open-ish

⤷ I most likely will not do oneshot/drabble requests but I might if I like your idea and I feel confident enough in my abilities! Please be aware that I do get very busy and your request may take a few days - I am also open to writing headcanons for any characters from Avatar or Atwow! (maybe nsfw? aged up only, general, dating, etc.)

that is all! stay hydrated loves ♡

#pls be kind #I need more avatar moots :( #avatar the way of water #atwow

[mochi-yu]

Empathy pt.4

-

Lo’ak/fem!omatikaya!reader | links to parts 1, 2 & 3

Not sure if I like some parts in this chapter tbh, I might change some things 😭 but finally a new chapter!

🏷️

@n7cje @aonungs-tsahik @nijirozzz @jacyntarose-blog @a-queen-blr @goddesslilithmoriarty @loaksgf

The banishment process had been nothing but devastating, both to your family and the Omatikayan people. The pure devastation that engulfed everyone’s face made your hearts heavy as Tarsem brought down his dagger against Jake’s chest, your fates were sealed. You were no longer one of the people. No longer a hunter or herbalist, no longer a part of the Omatikaya clan. You clenched the shawl around your shoulders closer against your chest, grasping tightly onto your mothers bracelet, a departing gift from Norm and Max, who had huddled you and Kiri into a tight hug, having watched you take your first steps and every milestone of growing up, you knew your mother would be well taken care of. The tears that threatened to spill from your pale eyes were fought back, face forward and jaw clenched. You would not shed a tear, not in front of All Mothers tree.

The walk in front of the whole clan was dreadful and felt like a weight was strapped to your feet with every step, Neytiri’s sobs could be heard from the front, you couldn’t begin to imagine how painful this must’ve been for her - essentially abandoning her clan, her people, her mother, her fathers dying wish. You wondered if you would ever be able to step foot back home, into the forests lush embrace, would you ever be welcomed back with open arms? Would you ever lay your eyes on mother again? you trudged forward reluctantly, the feeling of everyone’s eyes on you made you feel so small, like an ant to a human. You glanced back and briefly locked eyes with Mo’at,the adoptive grandmother who had taught you and Kiri all of your vast knowledge on the art of herbal medicine and of Eywa in honor of Grace, your mother. The pure sorrow in her eyes as she nodded affirmatively to you made a tear trick down your cheek. You could already feel yourself becoming homesick.

The departure was silent and no one spoke a syllable as you all mounted your sky beasts, Jake leading the way as you all formed a triangular formation. Your hand reached up to adjust your riding visor as you twisted your body to look behind you, caressing the molted wings of a lortsyal, a shimmyfly, a part of your home carried along with you on your next journey. Your gaze longing as the forest trees, the shrubbery, your beloved Ayrum Alusing and everything you had ever known became nothing but a blur the more the distance grew. You bit your lip, the flesh turning pale from the pressure, you hoped and prayed to Eywa that wherever you landed would be as kind to you as the forest and its natives

Over raging seas, unpredictable weather and the unrelenting scorching sun, the venture was treacherous. After two days and nights you wanted nothing more than to jump right into the oh so inviting cyan sea below. You guided your ikran to glide inches away from the tempting blue, laying your body against the creature as you reached your arm down, fingers ghosting the calm waters before dipping your whole hand, the cool sensation caused goosebumps to litter your blue skin, unable to hold back the refreshed sigh that slipped your lips.

another blue hand plunged into the water beside you, locking eyes with Neteyam when you peered up, “refreshing, isn’t it?” his words soft as his lips fell into a crooked smile. You nodded, wrinkles appearing next to your eyes as you returned the smile, “I am extremely tempted to jump right in if I’m honest..”

Your comment earned you a chuckle, his braids swaying with the movement of his laughter, “best not to if you wouldn’t like to be eaten by a giant sea creature.” your eyebrow cocked, the tone that dripped with your words was teasing, light hearted. “Don’t think I can handle a little fish?” Neteyam quickly picked up on it, blissfully unaware of his younger brothers eyes curiously watching the interaction, “prove me wrong then, ____..” his hand gestured to the sea just inches away.

you hummed in response, eyeing the way the droplets of salt water trailed down your digits before curling your fingers into your palm and abruptly spreading them out, shooting light sprinkles of liquid onto the older boy who offered you a smirk, unbothered by the coldness just sprayed on his chest. This friendly banter was rare, Neteyam always occupied by the pressure on his shoulders of being the first born, and you always at the hip with Lo’ak. It felt nice.

You positioned your ikran besides Lo’aks, who had been oddly standoffish since your departure, easily catching his attention as Ika’tes wings grazed over his own. “What do you think they’re like? The reef people?” You questioned, slightly taken aback by the tension in his muscles, but still you smiled sweetly at him. His eyes locked with yours, the events of the days prior still fresh in his mind. It made him feel hot, his hands feeling clammy as he discreetly wiped them on his thighs. “not sure, you?” - you stayed silent, pondering, a slight nervousness in your tummy blossoming.

“I hope they’re nice..” Lo’ak smiled at your soft anxiety, offering you a light bump from his Ikran to ease your nerves, “don’t be a wuss!”

It was another long day of risks and exhausting flying before you could even make out the large archipelago of island clusters, as Jake had mentioned, the sea was home to the Metkayina, the reef people; masters at reading the ocean waves and adept at the art of spears. A clan without war.

you could hear Kiri and Tuk gasp as you came into view of Awa’atlu, a large island curtained with towering tropical trees and grainy land right in the middle of crystal water, clearly being able to see the way the sun light shone through the true blue. The different hues of blue and green much opposite from your forest home but equally as beautiful. Light blue Na’vi peered up curiously from their tide pools up towards the sudden presence of Ikrans, never before seen in reef territory. It was a spectacle to see and they wasted no time in swimming towards the shore, unbelievably fast and their curiosity peaked.

A light blue Na’vi let out strengthened breaths into his shell, a boisterous call emitting form within, watching as you curved your Ikran to line up with the shore as more Metkayina flooded to the grainy strip - some diving into the sea and others mounting Ilu’s. If they didn’t know of your arrival before, they definitely did now. At your command Ika’te lowered his speed as he descended, his landing soft as dust from the sand kicked up with the flap of his large wings. You avoided the growing crowd as you disconnected your braid and dismounted, their loud judging stares boring holes into your skin, you locked eyes with Kiri who too felt uncomfortable under their scrutinizing eyes. Both of you instinctively pulled your shawls closer as if it could somehow protect you and deflect their judgement as your feet followed Jake’s lead, his arms low and spread out to show his amicable intentions.

“Be nice..” Neytiri threw behind shoulder as your group came to a stop before a few Metkayina with their spears staked into the sand. A welcoming that was expected. You observed your surroundings from your position beside Lo’ak, taking comfort in his presence as you sometimes caught eyes with a few locals who’s looks hardened. It seemed your hope for friendly introductions had been thrown out the window. Too distracted by the way the sand coated your toes you caught movement from your peripheral, peering up as Neteyam and Lo’ak locked eyes with two approaching Metkayinan boys around your age, their teal stares studying their appearance questioningly as the two forest Na’vi greeted them only to be ignored; clearly taken aback by the lack of formality. You understood, you were all strangers, forest people in a land not meant for you. But the way the taller boys eyes fell onto you and scanned your small frame - you wanted nothing more than to go back into the welcoming arms of your Omatikaya.

His teal eyes took you in. Your long upkept hair, the small various flower petals that intertwined along the length of your top, the way you perked up with a glint of hope in your eyes, those stupid doe eyes looking at him attentively as your two out of five fingers reached up to your forehead in greeting with the offer of a small smile - his stare narrowed as they fell onto your hand.

Much like a few moments ago, he also disregarded your greeting, walking around you as his friend pointed at your tail with a chuckle, “Look, what is that? Is that supposed to be a tail?” but he wasn’t interested in that, reaching out to snatch your hand that had greeted him inspecting it without shame, “you’re not a real Na’vi..” his words dripped with disdain as another hand pulled your own away from his grasp, Lo’aks ever observant eyes had seen the way he looked at you. His stare lingering too long, scanning over your frame, the small minuscule upward twitch of a smirk - he didn’t like it. It was the same way some of the boys back home looked at you, he hated it then and he hated it now.

The one with curly hair pointed to your tail next, amusement in his words, “it’s so small, how are you supposed to swim with that?”

Lo’ak gave your hand a gentle squeeze, eyes locked and swirling with pique at the boy as he pulled you closer to his side “cmon bro..” he was met with teal blue hands up in mock surrender, the cockiness in his smirk radiating as a Metkayinan girl made her way to the two boys, flashing you an apologetic smile as she lightly hit them, berating them for their bullying. Not long after did a group of Skimwigs fly overhead, droplets of salty water falling from their scaly skin as they descended and reached the shore, the chief of the reef striding tall and proud along with his wife, Tsahik Ronal, her demeanor unwelcoming.

“Why do you come to us, JakeSully?” Jake could tell Ronal was not very pleased with complete strangers arriving on her doorstep, and even more displeased as he requested Uturu, asylum for his family.

“Uturu?..” her eyes looked to Tonowari, flabbergasted at the request before falling onto your group once more, taking slow encircling strides as her eyes judged every feature on your bodies.

Tonowari’s voice was firm as he spoke, watching his wife’s demeaning eyes, “we are reef people, you are forest people,” Ronal grabbed hold of Neytiri’s tail, unsatisfied, “your skills will mean nothing here.”

“then we will learn your ways.” the metkayina tsahik laid her judgement to Tuk, announcing to the crowd how thin her arms were before turning to Kiri, her teal fingers snatching her tail as Kiri let out a small ‘ow’- “Your arms are small, your tails are weak, you will be slow in the water..”

Ronal’s eyes trailed down to Kiri’s hands as she snatched her tail from her grasp, her brows furrowed as she quickly took hold of Kiri’s hands and raised them into the air for all to see. “these children are not even true Na’vi!” 

Kiri turned to look at you, irises searching your own before she turned back to the woman in front of her with her eyes narrowed and tone sharp, “yes we are!” Ronal scoffed, dismissing the girl before trudging toward you and Lo’ak with the sand crunching under her every step. The Sully boy at your side stepped in front of you, avidly blocking you from the woman as she too grabbed hold of his hand and allowed her people to feast their eyes on his five digits, Lo’ak could only turn his head down to you as his loose braids curtained his face.

“they have demon blood!” at her statement the crowed became agitated, visibly distraught. upset coursed through your veins, how dare she judge your friends and family so shamelessly? you laid a hand on Lo’aks bicep in hopes of comforting him as a sea of eyes fell over your group. Jake had enough of the judgement, shoving his own five fingered hand into the tsahik’s face, wiggling his fingers as if to make a point, “look, look! i was born of the sky people and now i am Na’vi, you can adapt!” his voice firm and his posture strong as he whirled around to face Tonowari.

“we will adapt.”

Neytiri stepped forward looking down her nose at Ronal, the way she had shamed her children still fresh and present, it was something she could not let sweep by. “my husband was Toruk Makto.” The blue woman narrowed her eyes slightly, “he led the clans to victory against the sky people.” her gold eyes flit to the Metkayinan chief, who lowered his own. 

a light scoff emitted from the rivals throat, “This you call victory? hiding amongst strangers?..” her teal gaze shifted from Neytiri to Jake,“it seems Eywa has turned her back on you, chosen one.”

the two Na’vi women glared heatedly at one another, exchanging challenging hisses as their mates shared an incredulous look like fish out of water. Jake cleared his throat strongly, stepping in between both women as he apologized on Neytiris behalf, much to her disliking as Ronal made her way to the chief, eyes locking in a silent conversation.

“We cannot let you bring your war here, Jake Sully.”

Jake hoisted Tuk up onto his hip, cradling her head against the crook of his neck, “Im done with war, ok? I just want to keep my family safe.” 

You glanced to the side, studying Lo’aks expression as it portrayed uninterest, a ghost of a smile played at your lips at his boredom. The droop in his eyelids, the blankness swirling in his orbs, the way his lip slightly pouted. Sensing eyes upon him he flits his gaze down, successfully locking his sunset eyes with your own with a questioning look curtaining his face to which you found cute. He was cute.The cheeky smile on your face brushed him off, this only fueled his confusion even more but before he could inquire anymore Tonowari had made his way to Jake, grabbing hold of his spear and stabbing it uncaringly into the depths of the sand.

“Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us.” Strong eyes scanned over the people, “treat them as our brothers and sisters but they do not know the sea so they will be like babies taking their first breath.” there was a pregnant pause before he continued. “Teach them our ways so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.”

The two adult forest Na’vi radiated with gratitude as they instructed you all to express your thanks as Tonowari gestured to the boy who had bullied you earlier along with the girl who had berated him for his behavior. 

“Our son Ao’nung and our daughter Tsireya will teach your children-” Ao’nung was quick to protest, clear displeasure in his tone, “Father, why?” Tonowari brought up a finger to silence his son as Tsireya beamed with excitement.

She stepped forward to catch your attention, placing a hand on her chest. “Come, i will show you our village!”

As you walked along the bouncy woven pathways you couldn’t help but admire the natural beauty of the reef. From the way large branches expanded around the pods and nestled deep into the clear water below, to the various hues of turquoise that littered the surroundings, a stark contrast to your home of olives and browns. You missed it, the forest, your home.

your feet fell in sync with Kiri’s, readjusting the woven basket in your arms. “what do you think about this place so far?” your soft voice brought her back to reality as she pondered your question, “it’s meh, kind of a rude welcoming..”

“yeah, i can agree with that” you breathed out with a chuckle until you caught eye of her smirk, giving her a puzzled look, the corner of her lips only raised higher. “what? i know that face, it’s never good.” 

“don’t act like you don’t know sister, you know iv’e been wanting to interrogate you about Lo’ak, and after earlier when he snatched your hand away from that boys, there has to be something going on..” you feigned obliviousness, staring straight ahead at Lo’aks back, his trapezius flexing with the item he carried. “hmm it was nothing really, that boy was making fun of my fingers, just like his mother did to you.” 

She hummed, mentally accepting your reasoning, in the end she decided to press about it  further when the two of you were alone.

“Well we know where he gets it from.” her eyes rolled, your giggle filling her ears in agreement.

the pod you had been given was spacious, years of skills woven into each singular thread that made up it’s form, you settled the basket in the corner as Jake called everyone into a huddle. you rested on your knees as you took place in between the two Sully brothers.

Jake fell into a squat, eyes scanning over you, “I need you kids on your best behavior, i mean it. Learn fast and pull your weight.” he flit his gaze onto Lo’ak, a look on his face that the boy knew all to well, it made him want to roll his eyes. 

“Don’t cause trouble, got it?” 

Lo’ak considered rolling his eyes, always being singled out was tiring. He gave in, “Yes sir..” 

Neteyams braids clacked against one another as he brought a hand behind his brothers neck playfully, earning himself a hiss before he turned his attention to you. A smirk played on his lips, “And don’t get caught up in this skxáwng’s mischief either, ______”

you smiled gently, “i’ll keep an eye on him.”

Not long after were you all dismissed, free to your own exploration until your group set their eyes on the approaching children of the chief along with their friend; their offer of going for a swim delighted you, since the dreadful trip you had been eyeballing the tempting coolness of the sea and so you wasted no time in following Tsireya as she dived skillfully into the water. Your eyes clenched shut as you pummeled and the sudden iciness seeped into your skin, eyes fluttering open only to be in complete awe. 

you took in your surroundings annoyingly slow, carving the beauty of the reef into your mind. The vibrant corals illuminated by the suns rays as they seeped through the water, their light bringing out the various colors of the ocean floor and it’s hazy environment. You floated towards a cluster of towering anemones, their long tentacles swayed with the soft current almost as if they were waving at you in greeting, brushing your fingertips along its form you spun around slowly, just in time to see a school of fish swim by, their gills glistening brightly as they swam through a ray of light.

Pure awe filled your pupils and Kiri shared your amazement as she floated towards you, latching her hand around your wrist and hauling you along. Through crevices in the rocks and tall shadowing sea grass, you both had long forgotten about the rest of your group, much too occupied in the breathtaking ocean scenery. The two of you locked eyes as you came to a halt on the sea floor, watching as a pack of Ilu’s inspected you curiously from a distance. You wondered, would Kiri bond with one as easily as she had her Ikran?

As if your curiosity was answered, an Ilu broke away from it’s group, swaying it’s body through the distance until it had reached Kiri. It eyed her intensely, a hearty chirp echoed off as it brought its head to rub against the side of her cheek. Just like that she had already formed a lifelong bond effortlessly, it was something you had envied since you were old enough to form awareness, and even now years later, you could not help but feel unfavored by the all mother. Why had she created such a difference between two sisters?

From your position on the ocean floor you watched as Kiri solidified her bond, gliding and weaving through the narrow crevices and beaming with glee. Those same ill feelings bubbled in your chest but you knew you could never blame Kiri for the rift that separated you two. It was an unfortunate circumstance of your birth but still, you pondered. Pondered if Eywa played favorites.

You could never have such a connection with your planet, it’s creatures, it’s blossoming nature, or it’s creator. It was unfair in your eyes but even so, the way Kiri’s smile spread across her face as her gaze locked with yours made a solemn smile pull at the corners of your lips. Her gift was a blessing and you only hoped it would be without burden.

You swung a leg over the slippery skin of your llu, straddling it cautiously while avidly avoiding meeting the eyes of your teacher, his teal hands holding it in place steadily. You much hoped it would be Tsireya who would instruct you but to your dismay, she had already taken the position of being Loaks helper. Your attention was thrown to the side at the sound of Kiri's laughter, turning just in time to see her llu spit water at Roxto's offended face. You inwardly groaned, wanting nothing more than to be in her position.

A snort brought your focus back onto the task at hand, begrudgingly locking eyes with Ao'nung who's eyes bore into your own. "You lose focus easily, fake Navi.”

In all honesty, you were not a fan of his arrogant disposition and his cocky attitude. You had tried befriending him when you arrived only to be squashed without a second thought and now the nickname? You hoped this lesson would end quickly.

You didn't care to hide the disappointed sigh that left your lips, "I have a name Ao'nung, please use it.”

He considered your words for a moment before leaning forward with an uninterested gaze. You weren't quite sure what he was going to say next but still you waited for a response, "what's your name then? l'll be sure to remember it."

You debated whether or not to indulge, the condensing tone he had with you had softened just a bit and you wondered if he was coming around or just messing with you. His teal pupils eyed the unsure look on your face and he couldn't help but let his gaze linger.

You were pretty. Even if you were a half breed he couldn't deny that fact. He simply took in your appearance before you finally parted your lips. “It’s ______…”

He rolled the word off his tongue, coated in his accent. You waited for the bullying but to your surprise there was no mocking undertone or scrutiny, you were a bit taken aback.

A teal hand suddenly grabbed your own and placed it over the handle of the Ilu, adjusting it to hold correctly, his voice was now stern but that same smirk plastered itself back onto his face.

“Well _____, if you want to live here, you’ll have to learn how to ride..”

#avatar the way of water #lo’ak imagine #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak #lo’ak sully #lo’ak headcannons #lo’ak x you #atwow loak #atwow #kiri sully #ao’nung #lo’ak fic #lo’ak x y/n #lo’ak avatar

[mochi-yu]

first and foremost i want to apologize for the delay in updates for Empathy, i got sick and had zero energy to do anything but i’m happy to say my sickness is finally on it’s way out and i’ve been working on the next chapter!

Thank you so much for your patience and all the love Empathy has gotten during my absence and for 120+ followers! it blows my mind that so many of you like my self indulgent rambling, I love every single one of you! 🥹

#avatar the way of water #lo’ak imagine #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak #lo’ak sully #atwow #atwow loak #empathy

[mochi-yu]

this is fucking ethereal i went through all the stages of grief, so beautifully written please READ i cannot stress this enough!!!

— 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮

the deets — lo'ak is the black sheep in the family, clinging to honor by a precarious thread. you are the well-loved songstress in the tribe. he should resent you for being everything he's not, but his fickle heart can't bring him to do so.

the who — lo'ak x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 10.2k (rip yall)

the tags — (one-sided) rivals-to-lovers, angsty angsty, hurt / comfort, reader gives lo'ak a big ol smooch (perhaps more than one), lo’ak is the biggest dumbass and because of this he’s mean asf, reader has a big ol heart and just really wants lo’ak to like her, aged!up characters for maturity’s sake. 

the warnings — language, lo'ak is in luv but doesn't realize it, he's in denial that the feelings could be reciprocated, this is super dramatic so put your seat belts on!

the notes — was feeling extra sad and wanted to write something self-indulgent. this lovely anon requested something, and i used their ask as inspiration to finish this beast. fine line, bags, and love in dark are the three main songs i listened to finish this, so if you wanna be in your feels, have a listen LMAO. despite all the support, i’m still so mf nervous posting this ejsjsjdjs

masterlist

SOMETHING UGLY KINDLES IN THE PIT of Lo'ak's stomach at the mere mention of your name. It's sour on his tongue, bitter in his brain. He doesn't know when he's started to feel like this, started to feel absolutely dreadful anytime he'd hear the timbre of your voice. 

It's warm, thick like nectar and it makes him sick. 

Ever since you all were little, the elders crooned over what a great girl you were growing into; strong, intelligent, beautiful. It made him boil how much they'd sing your praises, the high esteem everyone held you in as one of the clan's most talented. 

Something dull would pick at him being compared to his older brother, but nothing burned more than being compared to you. 

Maybe it's because it's always implied whenever your names share the same sentences, that lingering implication that he could be more like you. The clan fans the flames of your mere existence while Lo'ak is snuffed out like a dying fire. 

He hates it. He hates you. 

He thinks. 

It'd be easier to, if you were awful behind the scenes. Arrogant, stuck up, but you're none of those things. You're kind, gentle, mighty when you need to be. It doesn't help that you shine like the brightest star, engulfing everyone in your light, in your warmth. 

But Lo'ak resists. He sees right through you, sees right through every saccharine smile you send him. He can see it in your eyes, how you really see him. Despite standing a full head taller than you, he sees the way you look down your nose at him. 

It grates his nerves, how disgustingly sweet you are towards him despite all attempts to rebuff you. 

Certainly doesn’t soothe his ego when you always seem to be around the bend every time he gets bitched at by the clan, eyes soft and filled with pity. To add insult to injury, you frequently tail him like a shadow after these moments when all he wants is to be alone. 

Like now, you linger. 

It's after dinner and Kiri and Spider stand before him. They come together like the three points of a triangle and you stand an awkward distance away from them. 

Kiri notices you first, her face splitting into a big smile as she waves you over. 

Lo'ak breathes a deep sigh before locking eyes with Spider who tries his best to suppress an amused grin. 

“Hi,” you chirp and Lo'ak can't help but roll his eyes. 

Spider and Kiri greet you eagerly. Lo'ak simply nods his head in acknowledgement before tightening his fist around his dagger. 

“We going or what?” he finally says. 

You perk up. 

“Where are you guys heading off to?” you ask curiously, hands clasped behind your back.

Spider opens his mouth to answer, but Lo'ak cuts him off quickly. 

“No where important,” he says, unsure if you'll blab about their whereabouts to the elders, or worse, his parents. 

You roll your lips and shift on your feet. 

“Can I come?” you ask hesitantly, eyes hopeful. 

Kiri's smile grows as she links her arm with yours. 

“No,” he says sharply. “Absolutely not.” 

Your face falls and something pulls inside his chest when you fail meet his gaze, your frown barely perceptible. 

You make a move to pull from Kiri's grasp, but her arm tightens through yours. She levels Lo'ak with a weighty glare and you fidget uncomfortably under his narrowed eyes. 

“Don't worry about it,” you say, like someone's hit a reset button. You smile that pretty smile and Lo'ak wants to scream. "It's okay, I think Rutan needs help with clean up." 

You slip from Kiri's grasp and the three watch you walk off. 

“Do you always have to be such a bitch?” Spider scoffs a disbelieving laugh. 

“She's just gonna tag along so she can snitch,” Lo'ak grumbles. 

“Oh c'mon,” Kiri argues. “________ just wants friends.”

Lo'ak sneers. 

“I don't want to be friends with her,” he says firmly, knuckles white around the handle of his knife.

“Weirdo,” Spider mumbles. “She’s cute. Think she likes you.”

Lo'ak's spine stiffens.

“It's an act” Lo'ak grumbles. “She just wants to look good in front of the elders to keep up whatever nice girl show she's putting on.” 

Kiri rolls her eyes hard. 

There are moments when Lo'ak thinks he's being harsh, but he can't help himself. It's like he loses all semblance of a filter when it comes to you. 

“Hi, Lo'ak,” you greet him sweetly, lowering yourself onto the fallen log he's perched on, fashioning arrows to practice with later on in the evening with Neteyam. 

He shifts away from you, putting the distance of two bodies between the two of you as he pauses his task at hand. 

“Hi,” he says flatly. 

“Can I help?” you ask tentatively, fingers twitching towards one of the untouched sticks in a pile next to his feet. 

His kicks them closer to himself, out of your reach before leveling you with a sharp glare. 

“No thanks,” he says quickly and you recoil slowly, letting out a shaky laugh before fixing that stupid smile on your pretty face. 

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, straightening in your seat. 

A silence so uncomfortably palpable settles over the two of you as you shift so that your knees are turned towards him. 

His throat bobs when his gaze travels from your little toes all the way up to your inquisitive gaze, golden and searching. It makes something unruly settle in his gut and he turns his attention back to carving his arrows. 

“Do you need something?” he breaks the silence finally. “I'm kinda busy.”

You bite your lip before scooting a little closer to Lo'ak's hunched figure. 

“My birthday's coming up,” you start. 

“I'm aware,” Lo'ak almost scoffs. 

It's all the clan has been able to talk about for the past few days. How they'd be able to prepare for the golden girl's next birth cycle and what they'd be able to do to make you smile the brightest. 

“Your birthday is a week before,” you state and his head whips towards you. 

“How do you know that?” he asks sharply, accusation heavy in his gruff tone. 

You flinch and he falters for a moment before your smile simply widens. 

“We grew up together, Lo'ak,” you say and the way his name sounds from your mouth sounds absolutely heavenly. “You're my friend.”

Friend. 

He scowls at the term.

“We're not friends,” he bites back. 

If the statement bothers you, you don't show it, simply tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before putting on a brave face. 

“I want to celebrate with you,” you say shyly. 

“Hard pass,” he says too quickly, gathering his sticks and fashioned arrows under his grasp. 

He leaves you in the clearing on your own.

You must be fucking with him. You have to be. It'd be the only explanation for why Jake pulls him aside a few nights later and tells him that you've requested to work with him and Neteyam during archery practice. 

“No,” he says stiffly, shaking his head. 

His dad levels him with a hard glare and Lo'ak sighs deeply. 

“She's a nuisance, Dad,” he argues. “Me and Neteyam are making good progress with our training and we'll have to start at square one if she joins.”

“Lo'ak, this isn't an ask,” Jake says sternly. 

“But, Dad!”

“Lo'ak.”

Lo'ak huffs, snatching his bow and quiver angrily before storming off. 

“You're doing great,” Neteyam says to you once the three of you have convened in the training circle. 

The three arrows you've shot have all landed within centimeters of the mark and to say that Neteyam is impressed is an understatement. Lo'ak, on the other hand, fumes not-so-silently as he tears his arrows from his target. 

Yet again, you have another person wrapped around your finger and it makes his blood simmer as he assumes his position at the marker and loads his arrow. It splinters through the air and hits the target right on the bullseye. The arrow punctures through the hide and lodges its way into the wood from the sheer force of Lo’ak’s shot. 

You start at him moon-eyed, lush lips breaking into a full smile. 

“Perfect shot,” you observe. “That was awesome.” 

Lo’ak scans your features hesitantly before his gaze flits to his older brother, waiting for any acknowledgment that he’d done a great job, but Neteyam is taking notes on the arrows still stuck in the fabric of your own target. 

His heart sinks. 

“Fuck this,” Lo’ak grumbles, bundling all of his belongings.

He stalks through the clearing, past his brother, to leave you two. 

He doesn’t know what fuels the fire more, the fact that Neteyam didn’t even bat an eye at the feat they’d been practicing for for the past three weeks because he was too immersed in you, or the fact that you bore witness to his first clean shot and gave him that sickeningly sweet smile that made his stomach turn. 

“Where are you going?” Neteyam sighs. 

“Somewhere you two aren’t,” he grumbles under his breath, ducking through the brush of the lofty forest. 

You lick your lips, locking eyes with Neteyam as you give him a bashful grin and slowly break away to follow Lo’ak’s path. 

He isn’t far ahead as you push through the vines and low-hanging leaves, the path lined with large plants and the spindly roots of the looming trees. The grass is plush between your toes as you scamper to follow Lo’ak from a distance, watching as his lithe body climbs through the dense flora. 

“Why are you following me?” he calls after a few dozen paces, stopping in the middle of the path to whirl on his heel. 

His golden eyes are syrupy, warm despite the edge, and you can’t help but flash him your pearly whites in a genuine smile that takes up your dimpled cheeks. 

“Why’d you run off?” you ask him. “You were doing so well!” 

His chest rises and falls with a scoff. 

“You can give it a rest, you know?” Lo’ak says flatly, fist so tight around his bow he feels like he’ll crush the wood. 

Your expression morphs, eyebrows furrowing in a way that makes Lo’ak throat bob, something pinching behind his ribcage. 

“What?” you ask, frown marring your pretty face. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you can stop acting like you wanna be friends with me,” Lo’ak says matter-of-factly. 

“You are my friend,” you protest quietly. 

Lo’ak rolls his eyes. 

“Dude, whatever,” he mutters, turning his back on you. 

“Is it so wrong?” you murmur and he stops in his tracks, refusing to meet your gaze. “To be friends?” 

Friends. 

That stupid fucking word again.

Lo’ak bites his tongue and stalks off, leaving you on the path. 

Neteyam rips him a new one when he sees him at dinner later that night. Lo’ak hangs his head as Neteyam digs in.

“Is it so hard to be nice?” Neteyam asks, hand squeezing his shoulder as they stand a handful of meters away from the main circle. 

As his eyes wander, he notices you sitting with his sister, head thrown back in laughter that glitters and wafts with the rising smoke of the fire. He swallows turning his attention back to his older brother. 

“Just don’t like her,” he admits. “I want her to leave me alone.” 

“You don’t like her or you like her too much?” Neteyam asks, brow bone raised. 

Lo’ak’s face scrunches.

“Ew, no,” he blurts. “Why would I—”

“________ just wants to fit in,” he sighs. “She has trouble making friends.” 

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Lo’ak mocks. “I don’t know why Kiri and Spider are always up her ass, she’s—”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warns. 

“Dude, everyone is always ________ this, _________ that! I don’t understand what’s so great about her—”

A throat clears and the brothers both turn their attention to the newcomer. Lo’ak could groan in frustration seeing that you’ve abandoned your seat and now stand nearby with two wooden plates. 

“They’re going to start cleaning up soon,” you say hesitantly. “Wanted to bring you some.” 

Neteyam takes it graciously from you, nodding his head in thanks while Lo’ak stares down at the plate you’d arranged for him, abundant in vegetables and thick cuts of meat. 

“No thinks, he says flatly.

You try to coax him. 

“C’mon Lo’ak, you say gently. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.” 

“No thanks,” he repeats stonily, holding his hand up. 

You offer up the plate again. 

“Lo’ak–“ 

“I said no thank you,” he grunts, annoyed. 

He’d only meant to push it back towards you, but one second it’s in your hands, the next you’re wearing dinner, the plate clattering onto the ground. 

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam scolds. 

“Shit, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” you breathe an airy laugh and Lo’ak freezes when he hears your breath hitch. “It was an accident.” 

“Oh, ________…” Neteyam sighs, but you’re picking up the plate and scurrying off, ignoring the nearby snickering. 

“Whatever you got going on, you need to cool it,” Jake scolds him in the family tent after dinner that night. “________ is a good girl, she’s trying to find her place. Can’t really do that if you’re gonna be a jerk to her all the time.” 

Lo’ak resists the urge to roll his eyes because, yet again, someone is sticking up for you, admonishing him about how he could be nicer, how he could take you under his wing, how he–

“What about me?” Lo’ak argues. “I tell her to leave me alone all the time, but she doesn’t listen. Why do I have to be nice to someone who doesn’t respect–”

“Cut the bullshit,” Jake thunders. “You haven’t even tried being her friend.” 

“Why should I?” Lo’ak counters. 

“Because maybe you two are more alike than you’d care to learn,” Jake says knowingly. “Now go apologize.” 

“Dad!” 

“Go, Lo’ak.” 

Lo’ak sucks in a deep breath before squeezing his eyes shut and blowing out through his nose. 

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbles, ducking from the tent into the humid night air. 

He starts into the jungle, fingers brushing over the leaves and petals of the plants and flowers. He takes the moment to regulate his pounding heart in his chest before trying to wrack his brain for any words that he could scrounge into a believable apology. 

When he crosses the glowing waters of a skinny brook, something rustles nearby and his hand is on the hilt of his dagger in the blink of an eye. 

He turns to face the noise, knife drawn, but then you emerge and his body relaxes a fraction. 

“Fuck, ________, you scared me,” he sighs in relief. 

You fidget and swallow down the lump in your throat. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. 

A brief silence dawns the two of you and Lo’ak notes that you’ve cleaned up from the evening meal’s debacle, now wearing a longer loincloth threaded with round pearlescent beads that refract the luminescence of the surrounding forest. 

Your grasp tightens around a leather bound journal and for a moment, he wonders what you could be writing about. 

When you follow his gaze, you shyly tuck the journal behind your back and give him an uneasy smile. 

“I wanted to–”

“I came to–”

Your words clash and you breathe a little laugh through your nose as you gaze at him with brilliant eyes. You start closing the distance and Lo’ak’s hands grow clammy. 

“You first,” you offer. 

Whatever threads of an apology he’d crafted in the moments prior have evaporated now that you stand before him, absolutely glowing. 

“Lo’ak?” Your head tilts and his cheeks warm. 

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “For what happened at dinner.” 

You shake your head quickly. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him, reaching out to touch him. 

He recoils, clearing his throat as he retreats to put an ample amount of distance between the two of you. 

You eye the berth and something shutters across your face as you rock back on your heels and flash him another uneasy smile. 

You haven’t even tried being her friend, his dad’s words echo like a call in the night. Maybe you two are more alike that you care to learn. 

Were you? You and Lo’ak were as different as they come, you molded by the love and adoration of the clan, him built up by the lessons and lectures he received from his parents and Neteyam. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, blowing by the previous conversation. 

He shrugs. 

“Dunno,” he admits. “I was looking for you.” 

The way you freeze is almost covert, your lips rolling as you try to hide the smile threatening to split your face. 

“Oh,” you hum. “Wanna go for a walk?” 

No, he wants to say. He absolutely does not want to spend anymore time with you than he has to. Likes to believe that he wouldn’t even bat an eye if he were to never see you again, but you’re looking at him expectantly and his dad’s words are like a mantra in his head, so he agrees begrudgingly. 

It’s awkward at first, silent except for the natural soundtrack of the vicarious jungle. But like you do so well, you break the silence and Lo’ak has to resist rolling his eyes for the third time that night. 

“What are your favorite colors?” you ask suddenly. 

“I dunno, green?” he offers. 

“Are you sure?” you laugh quietly. 

Lo’ak thinks a moment before nodding his head. 

“Yeah, green,” he finalizes. “And blue.” 

He barely notices that you’d fallen behind, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he sees that you’re scratching something into your little journal. 

“And your favorite fruit?” you press, nose still between the pages. 

Lo’ak breathes out a laugh and your head shoots up. 

“What? You gonna send this list to the lab?” Lo’ak asks.

You give him a shy smile, shifting on your feet. 

“No,” you say softly, then whisper to yourself, “just compiling a list to win your heart.” 

Lo’ak barely hears you, ears twitching as his eyes narrow in confusion. 

“What?” he asks. 

You snap your notebook shut, shaking your head quickly as you pad through the grass to catch up to him. 

“Nothing.” 

Something ripples in the fabric after that night, you and Neteyam both notice when Lo’ak enters the training clearing the next afternoon and greets you with a nod instead of flat out ignoring your presence like he had the last training session. 

And you think that the moment is fleeting, a one off, but as the days progress, you realize that maybe Lo’ak is finally softening around you. 

He stays for entire lessons, the most minute of smiles twitching at his lips whenever you compliment his shots. He waits near the edge for you as you pack up your things, and while the walk back to the village is a quiet one, you bask in his company, triumphant when he doesn’t run off. 

And while your evening walks are few and far between, you savor the moments he affords you, wedging yourself between him the crumbling walls of his facade. 

Tonight is one of those moments, sitting on adjacent branches overlooking the lively forest, when Lo’ak lets you peek farther into his life than he’d originally intended. 

“He never understands,” he sighs, popping a few berries from his satchel past his lips. 

Tonight’s topic is his father and you listen intently, eyes fixed on the way he reclines on the branch and looks up at the stars. 

“I try hard, you know? To make everyone proud, but all they see is my failure,” he says, obviously annoyed. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough.” 

“You do great things, Lo’ak,” you say quietly, the first words you’ve said all night. 

And like your voice is a reminder, Lo’ak’s spine goes rigid, throat bobbing as he realizes that he may have said too much to you. He’s getting too comfortable and you’re all the willing to absorb every insecurity and every worry he has. 

But something about quiet moments like these makes him loose-lipped, eyes fluttering to where you’ve got your notebook balanced in the seam of your thighs, scrawling something on the pages as you eat your own berries. 

The words are leaving him before he can stop them. 

“Easy for you to say,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect.” 

The laugh that escapes you startles him and a few of the berries he was about to devour slips from his fingers and plunk down the leaves.

“I’m not perfect,” you assure him. 

“Only someone who’s perfect would say that,” Lo’ak grumbles, peering over the edge of the branches to spot his fallen fruit. “The whole village loves you, everyone’s always so ready to bat for you.” 

You look down at the pages of your journal with a sad smile. 

“It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit quietly. “Everyone’s watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up.” 

Lo’ak shifts uncomfortably.

You continue. 

“And most of the villagers our age don’t like me,” you say, thumbing one of the pages. “They say I kiss ass, that I’m always trying to keep a leg up.” 

Lo’ak winces, knowing that he’s the source of at least one of those sentiments. 

“The elders think you’re honorable,” Lo’ak argues gently. “You’re talented, you have something to offer the people.” 

“Honor means nothing if you’re bound by it,” you say finally, closing the cover to your journal. “If anything, I want to be more like you.” 

“Like me?” Lo’ak asks incredulously, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

You nod, smiling at him. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think you’re brave, fearless. And even if you care what people think, you do what you want.”

Lo’ak is quiet, taken aback by your confession.

Before he can respond, you’re gathering your things, bidding him a warm farewell as you begin climbing down the tree to disappear into the night. 

After that night, you think that maybe you’re just imagining things, that you’re reading too much into the fact that Lo’ak has begun to finally act like you exist, but then Kiri says something and the hope sends your heart soaring. 

“Seems like he finally got his head out of his ass,” she says a few mornings later as you two stand near a shallow stream, eyes peeled for any fish you two could bring back to the village. 

“Think so?” you ask nervously, arrow trapping the flailing fish to the pebbles of the stream’s bed. 

Kiri shrugs. 

“He actually pays you mind now,” Kiri observes. “That’s a step up for sure. I think you just need to spend more time with him.” 

You smile, splashing through shallow waters to capture the fish and add it to the growing pile in the basket between you and the middle Sully. 

“Yeah?” you wonder

So you test the theory, basket filled with various peeled fruits and a little container of nectar you squeezed from the petals of a flower. 

It doesn’t take long to hunt him down. When you enter the training circle, he’s packing up his things, quiver strapped to his back and bow in his fist. 

Before you make yourself known, he’s turning on his heel to face you, eyes wild as he swallows down the lump in his throat. 

He’d be the last to admit that the last night you two spent together was branded in his brain, that his mouth had dried up so much so he felt his tongue could crack.

There were so many implications in your words and it horrified him, scared him so much that he knew he couldn’t let you that close again. 

But now you stand before him, pretty as can be, hopeful even, and he’s at a war with himself, absolutely caught between resenting you for being everything he’s not and giving into the draw. 

“Hi,” you greet, basket heavy in your hands. 

You look more radiant than usual, skirt brushing the forest floor, the woven vine of your top banded to expose your midriff. 

“Hey,” he replies hesitantly. 

“Where you going?” you ask curiously.

His throat bobs as he gestures behind him. 

“Hunting,” is all he says.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you ask eagerly.

He doesn’t. He shouldn’t. Because things are shifting and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the change. If he’ll be able to admit to himself that you’re wearing him thin, that you make him feel things he’s never felt before and that it makes him feel like he has no control. 

Because when it boils down to it, you make him lose control, make him lose his filter, and make him feel every emotion twice as hard. 

“No,” he says.

And in that moment, you feel like you’re back at square one, watching as his eyes turn stony and his jaw sets firmly. 

“You shouldn’t go hunting on your own,” you say softly. “Will someone be with you?” 

“It’s fine,” he argues. “I’m fine.” 

“I can go with you!” you offer. “I thought maybe we could sit by the stream and talk, but we can go hunting instead. We can–” 

“No,” he says again, pinning you with eyes so lethal, it makes you wonder if you really had imagined the moments you shared with him, if you had imagined Kiri telling you that she saw it too. 

You try again anyways. 

“It’ll be good practice and–”

“I said no, ________,” he barks. “You’re dead weight and I want to be alone.” 

Your lips seal and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

Lo’ak could nearly scream in frustration when he notices the way your shoulders sag and it makes something in his heart cinch. 

“Okay,” you agree, nodding quickly. “Be safe and–”

The words die on your tongue when you notice the look of annoyance on Lo’ak’s face. 

Lo’ak is in deep shit, you come to find out hours later. 

You sit outside of the training circle, knowing that Lo’ak will return down the path after his hunting trip. What you don’t expect, however, is Jake and Neytiri emerging with the entire line of Sully kids and Spider.

Jake grips the back of Lo’ak’s neck tightly as they march past wandering eyes, straight to the family tent. You don’t miss his wounds though, varying in depth, some bleeding, some sore. 

You’re hot on their heels, standing right outside of the entrance as Jake tears into the middle Sully. 

“Time and time again, I have to get on your ass for doing the complete opposite of what I ask you to do!” Jake’s voice is thunderous inside the tent. “Do you not realize that you not only risked your life but your sisters’ too?”

There’s a beat of silence before Jake continues, obviously pacing from the way his volume fluctuates. 

“And what were you thinking bringing Tuk? She’s nine, Lo’ak!” he shouts, the anger and the hurt evident in his tone. 

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak mumbles. 

“Yeah, I bet you are!” Jake scolds. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is for you stay in line. Just stay out of trouble and work hard on your training. I paired you with ________ and Neteyam in hopes that maybe you’ll tighten up and be more like them, but you’re always disappointing me.” 

You frown. 

Whatever Lo’ak had done probably didn’t warrant such deep admonishment and something tugs especially hard at your heartstrings knowing that all he wants to do is make his dad proud. 

“You’re surrounded by good influences, but you always have to go against the grain, Lo’ak,” Jake says, the edge in his tone softening. “I’m getting tired of the bullshit, son. You need to clean up your act. Hear me?” 

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak says quietly, voice almost a whisper behind the hide of the tent. 

“Now go get yourself cleaned up,” Jake huffs. 

Your spine is straightening when you hear foot steps closing in, holding your breath as the flap to the tent billows open and Lo’ak is emerging.

His eyes flit to yours and his expression sours further. 

“Lo’ak,” you murmur, reaching out to him. 

He’s shrugging you away, wincing when a wound on his shoulder stretches especially taut. 

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly. “I’ll–”

“Leave me alone,” he says, eerily level. 

“But you’re–”

“I said leave me alone, ________,” he warns, pushing past you in what should be the pursuit of his grandmother’s quarters.

Instead he’s making a beeline for the jungle. 

You’d seen the look in his eye before he stonewalled you, seen the hurt and heaviness that most people didn’t seem to notice because he was always so adventurous and carefree. 

You follow after him. 

“Lo’ak, you know he’s only worried for you,” you try to reason gently, fingers reaching for his own as you duck under massive leaves and fluttering insects. 

He whirls to face you, swatting your hand away. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he bites. “You don’t know anything.” 

You swallow, holding your hand to your chest as you watch him lay down every brick to wall himself off. 

He hates it. He hates how you look at him, how you seem to pity the life he has to live. It makes him sick, thinking that you two have it the same. He’d rather be hated for being great than hated for being a let down. It’s insulting, how you think you know how it feels. 

“Let’s go back. I’ll wrap your wounds and–”

“Of course, clan’s golden girl is gonna patch me up and make it all better, huh?” he seethes facetiously. “Just fuck off!” 

You flinch, blinking at the boy you holds so much rage in front of you. 

“I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to be mean,” you whisper, taking in a shuddering breath to will yourself not to cry. 

“Mean? Mean?” Lo’ak bristles. “I’ve tried telling you to lay off nicely, tried telling you to just leave me alone, but you don’t listen. You just pry and overstep and you make every little thing about you! Oh, it’s so much pressure, villagers our age hate me, of course they would! You already have everything and just have to go rub salt in the wound!” 

You shrink, eyes welling as your lip trembles. 

“Lo’ak, stop,” you whimper. 

“We’re not friends, ________.We never were and we never will because I don’t like you,” he spits. “Now please, for the love of god, will you just leave me alone!” 

The forest is silent save for Lo’ak’s ragged breathing, fists clenched as he glares down at you. 

“I-” Your breath hitches and you choke out an apology. “I’m sorry.” 

Lo’ak’s heart softens a fraction as you take a step back, turning quickly on your heel. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you rasp, tripping over your own feet as you stumble into a run, putting as much space as you can between you and the middle child who stands in the middle of the forest, unable to wrangle every harsh word he’d said to force back down his throat. 

You dropped your journal. 

Lo’ak is sure you’re looking for it, know that you’ve always got your nose stuck in it. You had dropped it running off and now he has its leather bound in his hands. 

It’s been a couple of nights since the faithful evening he’d blown his top and he’d only seen whispers of you. It was so unlike you to disappear, to not be entertaining the masses as they fell to your feet. 

He’d cooled off significantly, and when he replayed the conversation in his head, he winced, body folding in on itself as he realizes how harsh he’d been. 

“Are you actually thinking thoughts?” Spider claps him on the shoulder, startling him so badly he drops the journal. 

It lands spine down, the pages fluttering open. 

He chances a peek before Spider is rounding his lithe figure to pick up the notebook. All he makes out is a rough sketch. 

“You write?” Spider asks, intrigued. 

“No, it’s ________’s,” Lo’ak answers. 

“Oh, your little girlfriend’s?” 

Lo’ak gives the human a cross look, snatching the book from his grasp as he stands up.

“Trouble in paradise?” Spider pries, scurrying to keep up with Lo’ak’s long strides. 

A beat of silence before Lo’ak finally answers. 

“Made her cry,” he mumbles, embarrassed. 

Spider winces behind him. 

“You serious?” 

Lo’ak sighs. 

“Yes, dude, fuck,” he breathes, hand coming to the back of his neck. “I don’t know what came over me. Dad was ripping me a new one and Neteyam already chewed me out before they got there and she was being annoying, so I just…” 

“Bro,” Spider scoffs in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. “You’re a real dickhead sometimes.” 

Lo’ak’s eyes wander as he shifts uncomfortably, feeling incredibly small as his friend glares up at him. 

“I mean, I told her I wanted to be left alone!” Lo’ak tries to defend weakly. “I- I didn’t mean to.” 

“She likes you a lot, dude,” Spider reiterates. “She just wants you to like her back.” 

Despite the glaring signs, Lo’ak has trouble believing that your feelings for him far surpass charity work. They couldn’t, it was impossible. Because at the end of the day, you’re you and he’s…him. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but Spider beats him to it.

“Did you at least apologize?” 

Lo’ak squirms.

“Dude!” 

“Look, I know, I know,” he tries to assuage the situation. 

“________ is literally the sweetest girl in the entire clan you just–“ 

“I get it, bro, I get it!” Lo’ak huffs. 

“Get your head out of your ass,” Spider says. “She might not stick around long enough for you to realize.” 

“Realize what?” Lo’ak snaps. 

“Are you really gonna play stupid right now?” 

He blinks at the human. 

“You like ________,” Spider says matter-of-factly. “You always have, ever since we were kids.” 

“Oh, piss off,” Lo’ak grumbles.

“Dude, you’re literally my best friend, but I sometimes I wanna shove my foot so far up your–”

“I do not like ________,” Lo’ak says sharply. 

“Everyone sees it but you, dipshit,” Spider scoffs. “You like her, but you’re scared. She’s perfect and she intimidates you. Think she’s gonna see you for what you really are and turn her back on you like everyone else does when you fuck up, but she’s not like that, Lo’ak. She’s been there whether you like it or not. But she might not always.” 

Lo’ak swallows down the knot in his throat, fingers tightening around the notebook. 

“Everything clicking?” Spider asks knowingly. 

Lo’ak throws him a final narrowed glare before stalking off. 

It’s Lo’ak’s birthday and just like every orbit, he spends it alone in the forest.

At first, he’d been burdened with the weight of hurting your feelings, but now his conversation with Spider weighs heavy on him as he climbs dirt walkways and flowered paths. 

It doesn’t help that your notebook weighs heavy in his satchel, a silent reminder that he still has a piece of you while you cling to his peace of mind. 

I think you’re brave, fearless. They’re the words you uttered to him that fateful night you turned the reality of you two on its axis. 

As he splices all the moments you two shared like a reel, he realizes that it’s endless. That you’re always there, you’d always been there, like a layer of impenetrable atmosphere surrounding him. 

He really should apologize, he knows this much, but you’ve disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Training sessions have returned to a sibling affair and he’s too prideful to ask about you. 

It’s almost eclipse when he begins making his way back for the evening meal, knowing that a scolding will await if he arrives even a minute late. 

After what had happened with you, he was lying low, trying to diminish his blip from the radar.

As he closes in on the village’s main circle, he notes that it’s quiet. A little too quiet. It puts him on edge, makes him draw his bow and feel around for an arrow in his quiver. 

A few more paces and he’s broken into the clearing, a few stragglers milling about. Another half a dozen steps and it’s like the forest melts into a celebration, whorls of blue pouring into the circle as villagers begin trilling. 

Lo’ak is hoisted into the air as the dying fire in the center of the camp begins to slowly roar. 

“Happy birthday, baby bro!” Neteyam caws loudly as they begin jostling him into the air, chanting and dancing as the dense crowd of clanspeople celebrate him.

It’s like time slows as he peers from side to side eagerly, seeing the way Spider, Kiri and Tuk dance happily among his people. Jake and Neytiri stand near the fire, smiles wide when they see the look of awe on their middle son’s face. 

When he’s finally set on his feet, he wobbles, childlike as he turns, taking in the glowing streamers that crisscross between the tents. Flowers of green and blue thread through the vines, gleaming like lamplight as the forest buzzes around them. 

“Wha– What is all this?” Lo’ak croaks in disbelief, eyes flitting wildly as he notices Norm and Max standing next to a table they’d hauled from the pod to the circle, piled high with meats and vegetables wrapped in leaves. 

A platter of yovo fruits, his favorite, are at the center, surrounded by a painted sign with his name and the handprints of dozens of villagers on it. 

“You survived another orbit!” Neteyam laughs heartily, head-locking the younger boy before roughly digging his knuckles into the top of his head. 

A laugh bubbles from Lo’ak’s lips, swatting his brother away as villagers and clan members he’d grown up with approach him one by one to greet him. 

As the night progresses, he doesn’t even realize he’s searching until your mother approaches and his spine goes rigid, cheeks warming under her piercing gaze. 

“From my ________,” she says, setting a pouch into his palms. “She toiled over these for many eclipses. Please take care.” 

Lo’ak’s nod is delayed as his satchel shifts on his shoulders, a dull reminder that your journal still remains with him, begging to be read. 

“Where– Where is she?” he asks suddenly, feeling your absence all the more now that your gift sits in the palm of his hand. 

“My daughter does not feel well,” your mother says simply. “She wished to be excused from the festivities.” 

His chest feels hollow, stomach tight as his cheeks burn. You’d mentioned this to him, all those days ago in the training circle, about wanting to celebrate with him. 

His eyes flit to the flowers looped through the vines, the mountain of yovo fruits, the gift in his hands. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Doesn’t want to fuel the tiniest ember of hope in chest, but he can’t help it. 

He can’t help but read into it, into the implications of this celebration you’d planned all for him, into every word you uttered to him in the quiet of the forest’s chirping. 

It’s all it takes for him to lock himself in his own head. The feast melts into the background, dull, as his eyes cut the crowd for you. 

You have to be here, gotta be hanging around the outskirts silently. The idea taunts him, makes his gut twist hard as images of you dancing in the circle, singing to him, celebrating him, loving him—

Lo’ak freezes, blinking incredulously at the thought that’d just crossed his brain. It makes him queasy, makes the regret and the guilt gnaw at every nerve ending as your crying face flashes like an unwanted slideshow in his brain. 

It’s all he can think about as the festivities die, as villagers begin turning in the for the night and he helps his family clean up the aftermath of another orbit finally finished. 

Spider helps Tuk and Neteyam near the fire, and as Lo’ak moves through the motions like he’s caught in a tide, Kiri watches, knowing all too well what consumes her brother’s mind. 

It isn’t until Lo’ak is shrouded by the stillness of the early morning, his family tucked in their tent, bodies and limbs splayed as they sleep together, that he sits in a swinging hammock, your journal and the pouch in his lap. 

It feels wrong, the way he thumbs the cover, working up the courage to turn it open. But Ewya, fate, would have never left it in his wake if it wasn’t meant to be read.

As his finger ghosts the etchings of the front cover, worn and loved by you, something tickles his leg as he admires the leather. He blinks in disbelief when he sees a singular woodsprite resting against his thigh. 

Before he loses his nerve, he’s opening the pages with bated breath. 

Recipes, nature notes, short thoughts fill the sheets and Lo’ak feels like he’s reading into your brain, seeing all the little things no one bothers to know. 

he is like the sun,

shines so bright,

but burns the closer you get. 

Lo’ak’s pointer finger glosses over the ink, over your curly handwriting. 

he is so incredible, but he doesn’t even know it. i want to shout it to every creature in the forest, every tree and every flower. oh, how i wish to be as fearless as him. 

His chest heaves as the words blur. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

In this moment, he feels everything but. He feels like a coward. 

He continues to flip, throat lodged as he sees drawings, both rough sketches and full renderings. He hadn’t even known that you liked to draw, yet here he was, observing his home through your artistic eye. 

Flowers, leaves, trees, creatures, insects, fruits mar the stained papers, etched like it’d been caught in real time. 

likes green and blue. 

likes yovo fruits. 

The entry from the day you’d first walked with him through the forest. 

When he turns the page, his breath hitches. 

In full color, you’d captured his bullseye from your first training session. His back taut from the release, expression shaded stoic. He looked mighty, like the strongest warrior, and it was all through your eyes. 

Lo’ak doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the bullseye in the illustration bleeds from a fallen tear. Another one drips from his chin, then another. 

The next page is the night you two had poured your hearts out to each other. Again, in full color, he’s watching the stars. You don’t leave out the glow of the freckles that smatter his face and body, don’t miss the smile that plays at his lips as he quietly points out that his dad had come from a star. 

He flips again and different iterations and designs for what seems like jewelry litters the pages, shaded with different colors of blue and green, marked with varying notes, x’s marking through ideas you didn’t like. 

Lo’ak remembers the pouch, sitting untouched in his lap, and his shaky fingers undo the ties. He shakes the contents on the flat of the notebook and the most intricate beadwork fits into the crease. 

His eyes widen as he picks up the necklace in a trembling hand, the eclipsing sun catching the etching in the flat stones. 

Four five-fingered hands and four four-fingered ones, each separated by jewels scavenged and cleaned from the bed of the glowing river. 

A small scroll flutters from the pouch and Lo’ak chokes back as sob as he unrolls the hide. 

Happy Birthday, Lo’ak. I am always grateful to know someone like you. May your next orbit be filled with endless blessings from Ewya and may you see yourself how I see you. 

You see him, he realizes. You’re his supporter, a silent force that consumes every insecurity and swallows every doubt. You believe in him more than he believes in himself. 

He stands from the hammock and runs. 

You’re sitting in the same tree the two of you had rested in the night you’d confided in Lo’ak, watching as the sun eclipses and begins to light up the sparkling forest.

Something rustles and you sit up, hand on the hilt of your dagger as you search the area for movement.

As your eyes lock on the source, you almost wish it had been a beast coming to devour you whole. But as Lo’ak climbs the branches of the tree quickly, you feel the dread begin to solidify in your veins. 

You take your satchel, hanging from a nearby branch and sling it over your shoulder, pulling your shawl over your head to prepare for your escape. 

“________, wait,” he chokes breathlessly. “Please.” 

You feel like crying all over again, feel so unbelievably stupid thinking that Lo’ak would ever see you the way that you see him. 

You pause a beat as he settles on the branch across from yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. 

Something glints in the sun and your eyes widen when you see that Lo’ak has fastened the necklace you made him around his neck, right above the the leather chain that holds his beloved claw charm. 

“You’re wearing it,” you whisper, lips twitching into a frown as you try your best to keep your tears at bay. 

“I’m sorry, ________,” Lo’ak apologizes hoarsely. “Fuck, you don’t understand how sorry I am.” 

The tears well on their own. 

We’re not friends. We never were and we never will. 

The words haunt you like a broken record and you shake your head, moving from your perch to move down the branches. 

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak pleads. “Please don’t go, I–”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I hate you, Lo’ak.” 

He freezes, watching as you balance on a branch below. 

“I tried so hard to be your friend,” you whimper, angrily wiping away your tears. “You’re amazing. You’re strong, and you’re fearless, and you are everything I want to be, but you’re heartless.” 

Lo’ak lets out a shuddering breath, a chill running down his spine as you look up at him like he’d smashed every star in the sky. 

“I wanted to be with you, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “I hoped that maybe if I stuck it out, you’d see how much I cared, how badly I wanted to be with you, even if it was from a distance.” 

“I do, _________, I do!” he argues. 

He hadn’t always, but he sees it now. He sees you. 

You shake your head again.

“You don’t,” you sigh, voice trembling. “It’s my fault anyways. You were right. You told me to leave you alone and I was being too much.” 

“Stop–”

“Let this be the last time,” you assure him. “Let’s just– Let’s pretend we never met.”

“No, _________. Wait!” 

You’re climbing down the tree and disappearing into the brush and, like a fleck of ash, you’re disintegrating into nothingness. 

Most people think he’s being moody, that he’s just been scolded by his father or older brother, but Neytiri knows better. 

She sees the way her son has changed over the course of the past few weeks. She knows there is a great burden that he carries, but much like her beloved and her eldest, he suffers in silence. 

“Maitan,” she says quietly, brushing a braid from his face as he folds the leaves around a chunk of steaming meat. 

Lo’ak pauses almost imperceptibly, but continues his task. 

It isn’t like him to stay home and work with Neytiri. If anything, he’d be the first one out of the tent, Tuk, Spider, and Kiri tailing after him as they galavant through the endless forest. 

“Something weighs heavy in your heart,” she tries again, hand coming over his. 

Lo’ak stops and leans back, unable to meet his mother’s searching gaze. 

“I hurt someone,” he says quietly. 

Neytiri stiffens.

“What?” 

“I hurt someone I care about,” Lo’ak admits. You’d called him fearless, strong. He needed to live by your word. “I hurt her and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“Oh, Lo’ak,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand gently. 

Her face has softened as she takes in his stony expression. 

“My son, some things cannot be fixed,” she says honestly. “But all things require great effort. Sometimes those efforts will fall through, but that is the natural order of life.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Whoever this special person is, if you have hurt her, she deserves the full effort of your heart, no?” 

You do, he knows you do. You deserve every last effort. But a niggling streak of insecurity tells him that you don’t deserve someone like him. You don’t deserve someone who takes your affections for granted. You deserve someone who will love you with every breath, who will love you fearlessly. 

“I really messed things up, Mom,” Lo’ak says quietly. “I don’t…” 

Neytiri’s hand comes to Lo’ak chest. 

“The night I first met your father, Ewya gave me sign,” she says. “He has a pure, strong heart. You do too.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Be brave, Maitan,” she says. “Sometimes that is enough.” 

Lo’ak’s fingers hurt from picking berries.

His cuticles bleed, pricked by the thorns of the fruit’s bush. Kiri hums beside him, weaving a little bag out of ropes of thin vines. 

“You’re not gonna help me?” he whines. 

“Why should I help you with your mess?” 

You look beautiful under the glow of the evening meal’s crackling fire. It’s the first time you’ve emerged since before Lo’ak’s birthday feast and you’re being flocked by elders and villagers, wishing you well and asking about your supposed ailment. 

He sits across the fire, fists tight as he searches for a lull in the crowd. 

Spider snickers next to him, devouring the contents of his plate like he’s starved, watching Lo’ak’s useless pining like a show. 

Be brave. 

He’s standing to his feet before he can back out, crossing the circle to approach you. The villagers watch like they know something he doesn’t and the nerves are eating away at him as he steps into your space. 

You look up from your conversation with a girl your age, the smile slipping from your lips. 

“Can we talk?” Lo’ak asks, eyes wandering to watch the way everyone watches him. 

You remain jaded.

“Now’s not a good time,” you say quietly and a few onlookers snicker in the background. “________,” Lo’ak tries again. 

You stare up at him, the shadow of the fire dancing over your features as you seemingly look right through him. It’s humiliating, the way you remain seated and watch him fidget, but he figures he deserves the cold shoulder after months, years of casting you to the side. 

“Let’s go?” you ask the girl, nodding your head over your shoulder. 

The girl chances a glance between you and Lo’ak, noticing the telltale sign of your work etched into the stones of the choker he hadn’t taken off since his birthday. 

She gives him a sympathetic smile as she follows after you. 

He’s going to have to try a lot harder than he has, he realizes as your birthday looms right around the corner. The next eclipse, in fact. 

He’s losing hope, losing courage, but he can’t give up on you two just yet. 

He makes sure the berries he picked the days prior are packed tightly in his bag, the lid to the nectar fastened, and his present wrapped nicely. 

It’s his last hope, his last shot to make things right. 

Spider, Tuk, and Neytiri surround him, Neteyam and Jake off on a hunt. 

They’d all been privy to the fact, aiding him in his endeavors as he organized his final grapple with your heart. 

“Kiri said she’ll bring her right before eclipse,” Spider says, peeking from the flap of the tent. “That’s in, like, minutes.” 

Lo’ak is nervous. Doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you for good, but he knows he has to give it his best effort. It’s the least you deserve. 

Be brave. Sometimes that is enough. 

Lo’ak glances at his mom and she gives him a warm smile, ruffling his braids. 

“You are the son of Toruk Makto,” she assures him, pinching his cheek. “There is nothing you cannot do.” 

The words are carved into his brain as he rushes through the forest, the the stream that the curls and bends through the forest. It glows beautifully at night and that is his final push. 

“Wait, give me like three seconds, I left something.” Kiri’s voice is muffled behind the trees. 

“Huh?” Lo’ak sees the way your head tilts through an opening in the foliage. 

“I’ll only be a second!” 

“Wait, Kiri!” 

Kiri is running straight for him, comes barreling through the bushes, and continues down the path. 

“Good luck, egghead!”

Lo’ak takes in a final breath to quell the tremor in his hands before ducking through the bushes to reveal himself. 

You’re sitting on the embankment, on a woven mat that Kiri had laid out for you two, decorative vines edging the seams. 

“Oh, you were–”

You peer over your shoulder and your expression falls. 

“Lo’ak…” 

“Happy birthday, ________,” he breathes. 

You don’t look amused, slinging your bag over you shoulder as you rise to your feet. 

“Kiri and I are hanging out,” you tell him. 

He scratches the back of his head. 

“I…I had Kiri bring you here because I knew that you wouldn’t come with me if I asked,” he admits. “And of course, I don’t blame you, but I– I just really need to talk to you.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to look him in his eyes as he draws nearer. 

“Just give me some time, please,” he pleads. 

You finally meet his gaze, searching his eyes as he looks down at you earnestly. 

You give him the tiniest nod, reluctantly shedding your satchel to reassume your seat on the mat. 

The waters rush gently, like a song as Lo’ak lowers himself next to you.

His palms are clammy as he fidgets in his seat, the scent of herbs and flowers wafting from your dewy skin. He can’t bring himself to look at you, afraid that every sentiment he’d crafted in the hours of the night will escape him, so he watches the bubbling of the stream. 

“Well?” you whisper, like you don’t want to shatter the fragile sheath of peace that layers you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know I’ve said it already, but I really am, ________.” 

“I know,” you murmur and his gaze flits to yours. “Even if you don’t act like it, you have a good heart, Lo’ak. You feel everything, even the things you don’t want to.” 

He swallows.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says carefully. “I was mad and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.” 

You sit silently, knees hugged to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knee, watching Lo’ak with seeing eyes. It makes him trip over his words. 

“My whole life, I’ve always been compared to Neteyam,” he says. “The entire village would whisper about me and how I was nothing like the mighty warrior.” 

When he glances at you, he notices your fingers twitch, like you want to reach out to him. 

He squashes his fears and turns to face you, five-fingered hand coming up to thread with your four. You watch the union, uncertainty obvious in the way you tense, but Lo’ak squeezes. 

“And then when we started growing up, you were just another person I had to live up to,” Lo’ak whispers. “You’re perfect, ________. You’re kind, and you’re smart, talented. You’re everything I’m not and it made me hate you.” 

You shrink, but Lo’ak pulls you towards him, hand coming up to brush your cheek. 

“But you’re all of that and more,” he continues, the words gushing like a river. “You’re always there, you support me and you defend me and see things I don’t.” 

You become shy under his gaze because for the first time, he’s seeing you. He’s seeing you for every single thing you’ve been to him and it makes your stomach knot. 

“I have something to tell you,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.” 

Your gaze is soft, palm still in his as he turns and reaches into the bag he discarded next to him. Your eyes widen when he produces your notebook, edges curled the slightest as he hands it to you. 

“My journal,” you say, taking it from him quickly. “I’ve been looking for this. Why- Why do you have it?” 

He looks guilty, lips rolling as he avoids your gaze. 

“Did you…” 

“I wasn’t going to,” he admits. “But there were woodsprites and I knew it was a s–”

“Lo’ak this is private,” you murmur incredulously. “Why would you read this?” 

“How long, ________?” he asks quietly, grip on your hand tightening. 

“Lo’ak, don’t–”

“How long?” he presses desperately. 

Your eyes are watering, like that wicked night all over again and Lo’ak begs Eywa for the final push. 

“Since we were ten,” you whisper brokenly. “It was my first performance and it was so stupid, but I was throwing up because I was nervous and you talked me through it.” 

Lo’ak is stunned, the memory like the faintest of outlines. 

“We didn’t even know each other that well,” you hiccup. “But you patted me on the back and you gave me this–”

You pull your fingers from his grasp and flip the journal to the last page, revealing a hidden pocket. Your nimble fingers pull a tattered string, the remnants of a vine, threaded with wilted flower petals, preserved from being pressed inside your notebook.

“You said that they made you make it during lessons,” you say, breath hitching. “That it’d be my good luck.” 

He’d forgotten all about the memory completely, too caught up in driving whatever wedge he could between you two, building up walls to seal you out. 

“And you kept it this whole time?” he asks, face scrunched in disbelief. 

“I’d hold on to anything you give me,” you admit in defeat. “Heartbreak included.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. 

“________, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, hand coming up to your neck. “You have to know that. I’m really fucking stupid, but if you give us a shot, I won’t mess it up.” 

Your hand comes up to his wrist, crumpling as you bow your head. 

“Don’t do this to me,” you beg, moving to break away from him. 

“Please.” 

His hold tightens, other hand twining with yours. 

“If I…if I give myself to you, I’m giving you everything,” you say hesitantly. “If you break this, you break me. I don’t think I can come back from this.” 

Lo’ak presses his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips as he searches your gaze for any semblance of hope. 

“This is me being fearless, ________,” he whispers. 

You melt, pressing your lips to his tentatively. He’s frozen for the shortest of moments before relenting, pushing up onto his knees to deepen the kiss. 

He’s cradling your face and your hands are wandering and Lo’ak can’t help but think he could get used to loving you. 

To being loved by you. 

BONUS

“I was gonna give it to you on your birthday,” Lo’ak says sheepishly a few nights later under the stars. “But, you know…” 

Your usual place among the branches of the looming trees have a lot of memories both bitter and sweet, but you suppose you could make new ones. 

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you say sweetly, tail swishing to wrap around his ankle. “You’re all I need.” 

Lo’ak doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your saccharine words if the pounding in his chest is anything to go by. 

His hands are shaky as he pushes the hide towards you, a bow made of vine tied neatly around the gift. 

“Wanted to,” he says simply, moving the hair from you face to see your reaction better. “Open it.” 

You’re gentle with the present, like you are with most things, but eager to see what he’d gotten you. 

A tiny gasp falls from your lips when you finally see it, wide eyes meeting his as you free the jars of paints he’d mashed up, the brushes he fashioned, and the brand new journal he bound himself. 

“Lo’ak, wow…” 

“So you can paint me more,” he says, then adds timidly. “Or maybe us. Maybe you could paint us.” 

an — holy shit guys, this was such a big project for me because i really wanted to dive into so many different things in this fic. to everyone who was waiting patiently, thank you sososo much. as usual, i took a lot of creative liberties with this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed nonetheless! although requests are paused for me to catch up, like always, if you wanna chat with me about literally anything, my askbox is open. lots of love hehehe :) xx

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neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn

[mochi-yu]

I have been fed 👆😌

Yawne

Pairing: Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyitan x Fem! Dreamwalker! Reader

Request: Tsu'tey with a dreamwalker reader were they come up with human nicknames for him when they are training become one of the na'vi, and he's confused and asks jake. So when he finds out he starts calling her nicknames that are meant for mates or something in his language. Something that makes the reader flustered. If you want to.

Word count: 2.3k

Warning/s: none really?? just fluff bc tsu'tey <333

Note: tsu'tey i miss u man come back <3 Anyways, likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are much appreciated! Let me know what you think!

GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

yawne - beloved

tìyawn - love

You face planted. Hard.

Groaning, you prop yourself up with your elbows. Your face was caked with mud from falling off your direhorse.

“Glad I’m not the only one falling off my ass.” You could hear Jake playfully say as he walked with Neytiri, going somewhere to teach him how to use a bow.

You could hear Neytiri smack him on the arm, muttering something else.

“Yeah, yeah, piss off.” You say with a light chuckle.

“You are not taking this seriously.” Someone spoke from above you.

Looking up, you spot the usual scowl on the man’s face, Tsu’tey. Soon to be olo’eyktan of the Omaticaya clan. The man you wanted to choke the living daylights of, at the same time he was also the man whom your heart started to beat for.

It was stupid, really, falling in love with your instructor, you knew your stay here would may as well be temporary, but you were going to make the most of it.

“I am, give me a break I just fell off my horse.” You grumble, standing up to meet his eye, well, you still had to look up from the difference in height.

“There are no breaks. How are you going to learn? You Sky People should just go away.”

You knew of his distaste in the Sky People, and you couldn’t blame him. You hated your own kind too. For now, you just played with him.

“I can’t, I know you’d miss me, Casanova.” The edge of your lip curls up in a smirk at the nickname you gave him.

Tsu’tey’s brow knitted together at confusion for the said nickname, yet he ignores it, jerking his head towards the horse. “Again.”

All you could do was sigh and hop on the direhorse again.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

As you got used to Tsu’tey being by your side, the nicknames you gave him started to get worse. However, you enjoyed the grumpy look on the warrior, it made you laugh.

“Where are we going now, Romeo?” You asked, trailing behind him through the forest, holding your bow.

You could hear his tall figure let out a ‘Tch’ before he kept going.

“Not even going to answer me, Romeo? Oh, you pain me.” You giggle.

“I do not understand what you are saying, woman.” Tsu’tey said, stopping and finally looking at you.

“That’s why it makes things more exciting, don’t you think? Since we’re spending all this time together.” You speak nonchalantly. Tsu’tey couldn’t believe how lively you were being.

And the worst part is? He’s enjoying it.

None of the young hunters he had trained had the personality like you, no. It was either they were too focused, which Tsu’tey liked, but the others were too scared or often other female na’vi would just flirt with him.

But he would rather feed himself to a viperwolf than let you know that he’d been enjoying this little game of nicknames of yours, even if he didn’t know what it meant. It made all the time spent with you more fun, like he said, lively.

Still, he was always reminded that you were one of the Sky People, another dreamwalker on their planet. But why was he feeling a certain way when you smile at him?

When you perfected something he taught you, why does he want to go to you and congratulate you by holding your hand and smiling at you?

Instead, what he does is nod at you, before making you do it again to make sure. He must remain professional, but why does his instinct crumble when it comes to you?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Hold it.” Tsu’tey said to you as you held your drawn bow.

“Higher.” Tsu’tey commanded, but you didn’t follow. He bites the inside of his cheek before grabbing your elbow, your body inches away from his as he raised your elbow at the height it was intended. He never failed to notice the slight dark hue to your cheeks.

He backed away again, wanting to see your form. “ (Correct).”

You smile at him, and he almost smiles back at you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The game went on and soon you’ve called him a bunch of names.

It ranged from honey, sweetie, sweetheart, honey bun, and a bunch more that Tsu’tey couldn’t keep up with. It made him curious, why were you calling him like that?

So, there he was one night after a feast, his eyes trailed to you. You were wearing their clothes and you looked even beautiful. You were currently laughing about something with Neytiri when the curiosity of his mind got the better of him.

Thankfully, Jake was just right beside him.

“I have a question, JakeSully.” He said to the man who seemed quite busy stuffing his mouth with food.

“Oh, sure. What’s up?”

Tsu’tey suddenly debated whether he should really be asking Jake. But as since the two of you were from the same kind, he figured he knows much more a lot about it than the others.

“(Y/N) keeps calling me things- things I do not understand.” Tsu’tey said.

“Oh? What things?” Jake replied.

“What does ‘honey bunch’ mean?”

At that, Jake could swear he inhaled some of his food as he broke out into a laugh.

Tsu’tey frowned, does it mean something bad? Were you making fun of him the whole time?

“Man, didn’t know she had it in her.” Jake laughed.

“What does it mean?” Tsu’tey said, slightly tightening his grip on the strap of his holster, awaiting Jake’s answer.

“Well, it’s a nickname, I know you know that. But its you know, something you call your… how do I put this?” Jake thought. “Like its something you call your mate only.”

Tsu’tey then felt his grip loosen at Jake’s words. All this time you were calling him names that were meant for your beloved.

Tsu’tey’s mouth went agape for a moment, before gulping and nodding. “Ah, I see.”

“Its also a way for her to tell you that she likes you, trust me, I know her.” Jake said before going back to eating and talking with the other na’vi.

He inhales, his eyes finding their way back to you, to his surprise, your eyes met his.

Then you smiled and waved at him.

He didn’t know how to respond, so he moves away from your gaze, busying himself with his thoughts that he missed your frown at being ignored.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You and Tsu’tey now sat in front of each other, under one of the highest branches in hometree.

He was teaching you how to speak na’vi.

“Nam’ake.” Tsu’tey said.

“Namate.” You repeated but Tsu’tey shook his head.

“Nam’ake.” He repeated.

“Nam’ake.” You said.

“Good.”

There was that smile of yours again. “You are learning well, tìyawn.” He smiles smugly at your confused face.

“What does that mean?” You ask him as he shrugged, smirking. “Hey, no fair, since when did you also start calling me names, huh?” You spoke.

“You started it first.” He was now being playful with you, which was a new thing , still, you enjoyed it, getting to see this side of Tsu’tey.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You just finally had your first kill as you closed your eyes, thanking a silent prayer to Eywa before mercy killing the hexapede in front of you with your dagger.

Tsu’tey watched, a proud smile on his face as you learned well from him.

“You are ready, yawne.”

You open your eyes again to look at him. “You got to tell me what that means.” You say, standing up, sheathing your dagger back into its holster.

“Maybe one day.” He replies.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After countless days, you were now ready to be signified as one of the people, one of the Omaticaya.

Tsu’tey and Neytiri traced the white liquid onto you and Jake’s body.

You could feel yourself shiver as Tsu’tey’s hand dips into the bowl then traced a line down your lips. You could feel his concentration. You didn’t miss how his fingers lingered on your lips before removing them.

Tsu’tey was proud of you. Once you walked out with Jake, you could see all of the Omaticaya turn their heads towards the two of you. It made you shiver, you heart spiking as you made your way down.

You and Jake were still beside each other as Eytukan was in front of you. “You are now a son and daughter of Omaticaya.” He spoke in Na’vi. You stare at his gentle gaze. “You are part of The People.”

Eytukan both laid a hand on yours and Jake’s shoulder. You could feel yourself becoming one with them. Not just a person in an avatar body, but as truly one of the people. You see Neytiri clasps her hand on Jake’s body, a proud smile on her face, making you smile too.

Then you suddenly feel two rough, calloused hands rest their place on your shoulder and you immediately recognize who it was.

Tsu’tey.

And then a big feast was yet again held, celebrating becoming one with the people as you and Jake were now warmly welcomed by the others.

“Come, come dance with us!” Neytiri said, pulling you up from your sitting position. Your eyes widened as you gasped. “Neytiri, I’m no dancer!” You said, dark hue tinting your cheeks.

Neytiri smiled yet she was persistent as you already found yourself standing and being pulled along with her.

Tsu’tey didn’t miss the scene as his eyes followed yours, he watched as you began to dance along with the Omaticaya women. His eyes only focusing on your figure. He watched how you went from doing small moves into finally feeling yourself as your hips dipped and swayed to the drumming.

His eyes were only pried away when one of his friends talked to him.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After finishing the dance, you laugh, out of breath as you and Neytiri conversed, making your way back to your original spot. You had a few drinks in your system that you didn’t even realize was possible, leaving your face lightly flushed and feeling confident.

Reaching the destination giggling to yourselves, Neytiri playfully shoved you against Tsu’tey’s front. You gasped as your hands placed themselves on his broad chest to stop the impact as his arms instinctively reached out to catch you.

“Enjoy (Y/N).” Neytiri teases before going to Jake, pulling him up from his seat and dragging him somewhere. You gasp at her, laughing to yourself, not realizing a certain warrior was now holding your almost intoxicated self.

Your attention was now turned to Tsu’tey as you looked up at him. “Hi.” You greet with a sheepish smile, your hands still on his chest., lingering there for a few seconds before you retracted it, the same with Tsu’tey’s arms.

You then tried to move beside him to sit when he suddenly grabbed your arm, making you stop and look up at him again, your breath hitching in your throat.

“(Y/N).” He said your name with his thick accent, his voice almost lower than its usual tone. “Hmm?” You inquired. Before you know it, he was leading you somewhere away from the people… somewhere secluded yet beautiful as the bioluminescence glowed and you could hear the trinkling of water somewhere nearby.

Tsu’tey did not know what he was doing, but he guessed it was time to say it, before everything was too late.

But he feels his words melt away as he saw you standing there, your hair was down in cascading waves from them being trapped in a braid for too long, you were wearing a top adorned with little flowers and vines as they littered your chest. You were looking around, your face in awe, admiring the flowers that glowed and the ground beneath you glow as you stepped.

Think straight. Tsu’tey tells himself.

Moving towards you, he reaches for your arm.

You glance at him with a smile. “It’s beautiful here.”

“(Y/N).” He speaks again. You listen.

“You are one of the people now. You may make your bow from the wood of Hometree,” He began, but the next thing he was going to say felt heavy on his chest. He looks into your eyes to find you staring at him. He opens his mouth.

“And you may now choose a man. The Omaticaya has made men into fine warriors, protectors, like Atsìì.” He spoke.

You recognized Atsìì, also one of the fine warriors in the Omaticaya clan.

But the way your face lit up at the mention of his name made Tsu’tey regret mentioning him.

“I know him,” you say, making Tsu’tey’s ear twitch but he ignores the gnawing feeling in his stomach. “But I don’t see him that way.”

He instantly felt relieved that he almost let out a sigh, he almost gave himself away.

“But there is this fine warrior.” You spoke, never taking your eyes off him as he listened.

“A very fine warrior who has a strong heart.” The drinks you had were really taking its effect on you as you slowly smiled at him.

“And he has taught me many things,” You decide to push your luck and place your hands on his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart as you inch your face close to his. “He taught me how to love.”

Tsu’tey’s hand rests themselves on your hips as he fully realized who you were talking about. You were talking about him. Him.

A proud smile slowly makes its way to his lips, his fangs showing as his tail flicked behind him. “I taught you how to love, hm?”

You nod, smiling at him. “You did, tìyawn.”

Tsu’tey’s head tilt at you upon hearing the word. You giggle, coming closer as he leaned down, your lips almost brushing his.

“Two can play at that game.” You whisper before his head dips and your lips connect.

[mochi-yu]

Lo'ak when Quaritch asked him to show his hands

[mochi-yu]

Courting

characters: neteyam, lo’ak, tsireya, ao’nung, rotxo

gender neutral reader

content warning: fluff

synopsis: how they court you

neteyam

mainly hunts and fishes for you

it’s something that not only displays his skill and gives a reason as to why he would be a good mate but also provides for you and acts as a gift

he wanted to court you in the most efficient way possible, while still showing he cared

he also wanted to be traditional

delivers his kills with a beaming smile

softly compliments your hair, your eyes, your clothing, your jewelry, anything and everything

this was also something that was thought through

he was worried that while hunting for you was very effective, it wasn’t personal enough

so he makes sure to compliment you to make up for the lack

you hear a loud thud behind you and slightly jump. upon turning around you see neteyam proudly smiling over yet another skinned, cut, deboned, and nicely packaged animal. you can always tell how much effort he puts into delivering them to you, making sure you have to put minimal effort into preparing them to be eaten. you grin at his gift.

“another? at this rate i will have enough meat to feed the entire clan,” an exaggeration of course. he was very careful not to give you too much so that none was wasted.

“yes another,” he still wears his bright smile, though now it’s more lovey. his yellow eyes lock with yours, the soft look in them causing a calming warmth to flow through your body, “it gives me an excuse to visit the most beautiful being in the village.”

your smile widens as you lean over to place a kiss on his cheek. he hums in content and subconsciously leans toward you.

“you still do not have to hunt for me as often as you do neteyam. i appreciate it very much, but i don’t want to keep you,” now standing chest to chest with him.

“hush. i must show you that i am a good provider. and seeing you always makes my days better.”

pulling back, you speak once more, “you will see me a lot more once we are mates,” you smile smugly at his wide eyes. darting just out of his reach when he comes to his senses, moving to grab you, and giggling as he pulls you into his chest by your waist.

lo’ak

gives you trinkets and gifts

they’re always personal

your favorite color, your favorite smell, your favorite flower

it shows he listens and retains what you tell him

will come up to you after hunting or flying and give you a flower or pretty rock he found

he eats up your exited and grateful face after he presents the small gifts to you

he will occasionally hunt for you, but he can tell by your reactions that you appreciate the thoughtful gifts more

he also makes sure to spend lots of time with you

he wants you to know he’s there for you

a give the love you want to receive type

you could tell from the exited speaking and sound of flapping ikran wings that the hunting party had returned. you elect to finish your task before going to greet them. just as you’re wrapping up, you hear footsteps approaching you. you think nothing of it until a beautiful rock, appearing to have glittering crystals embedded in it, is placed on top of your workspace. when you lift your eyes you see lo’ak. standing before you, still decked in his hunting garb with a soft smile on his face. you can’t help the smile that grows on your own.

“thank you lo’ak, it’s breathtaking.”

“i am glad you like it,” he moves to sit next to you. staring at your expression as you turn the rock over in your hands. “i found it when tracking in the woods, i thought you would enjoy it.”

“i do. i must find a place for it where it stands out,” your eyes leave the gift for a moment to lock with his before you turn to rest your head on his shoulder. still rotating the rock to admire it from every angle.

he speaks after a few moments of silence, “how has your day been?”

you softly laugh at the question, “i should be asking you that, you were the one who went hunting. i have just been here all day.” you twist your head, still resting on his shoulder, to look at his face.

“still, i want to hear about it.”

“only if you tell me about yours after,” you propose.

“done.”

his soft expression never leaves as you tell him about your uneventful day. assuring himself that he will officially ask you to be his mate soon.

tsireya

makes you matching jewelry

emphasis on matching

she weaves you colorful bracelets and intricate necklaces

she sews you beaded arm bands and carves charms out of wood

she spends hours upon hours perfecting every detail to make sure it’s perfect for you

and when she gifts it to you she always has her own on

“i thought it would be cute if we matched”

it fills her with pride to see that every day you wear at least one of the pieces she has made for you

it also makes her a tad bit happy that if others pick up on the fact that you match they may know you are taken (almost) but she will never admit that

“dearest!”

recognizing the sweet voice you smile. your eyes search the beach until they land on tsireya, practically skipping her way over to you with her hands behind her back. you know what that means, and your smile widens at the realization.

you speak once she is only a few feet from you, “hi tsi!”

“close your eyes,” she says as she moves to kneel across from you.

having done this more times than you can count, you instantly do as she says. preparing for her to place whatever jewelry she has made for you wherever its supposed to rest on your body. you feel her cool fingers on your skin as she gently ties a necklace around you neck. quickly followed by a soft, “do not open them yet.” and of course, you do as told. this is typically when she puts her own jewelry on, not wanting to spoil the surprise before giving you yours. “now you may open them!”

the excitement in her voice makes a soft warm feeling flow through you. opening your eyes and looking down at yourself, you spot the necklace. at the center rests a sun shaped charm carefully carved out of wood. the string on the necklace is lined with very small yellow and teal beads, and evenly spaced from the center are two smaller sun charms. you look up to find her own necklace is almost the same, only with moon charms instead of suns and dark blue instead of yellow beads.

“you always tell me that i am like the sun. and i feel that if i am the sun then you are my moon, so i thought it would be nice to have something to remind us of each-other when we are apart,” she explains.

touched, you quickly pull her in for a tight hug. you bury your face in the crook of her neck before speaking, “it is so beautiful tsireya. i do not think i will ever take it off. thank you.”

“of course dearest. anything for you.” and you don’t have to look up to know that she is beaming with joy and love.

ao’nung

flirts with you. like a lot

like every time he sees you

winking, lingering touches, compliments. you name it, he does it

which would be a great indicator of his interest if he wasn’t a natural flirt

he is much much more flirty with you than others

but you don’t pay enough attention to the flirting to notice because you’ve already written it off in your head

but, the moment he realized his feelings for you he began working on a gift

a beautiful headpiece with pearls and small shells swirled in intricate patterns

but he spoke not a word of it to you until he presented it

you stood in the secluded part of the beach ao’nung had asked you to meet him, wide eyed, lips parted, as you stare at the most gorgeous headpiece you’ve ever seen that he holds delicately between his fingers and extends out to you. his confidence begins to chip away with every moment you stand there saying absolutely nothing. honestly he doesn’t know if you’re still breathing.

he clears his throat and rolls his shoulders, “if you do not like it you do not have to accept it,” he speaks, beginning to pull the headpiece away.

this snaps you out of your trance. you let out a sharp squeak that sounds like “no!” and pull his hand back by his wrist. wary to touch the beautiful object he holds. “i..i was just surprised…”

you finally look at his face to find him staring at you like you’re the stupidest thing on the island. “hah?!? what do you mean ‘you were surprised’? i made my feelings for you very clear!” his face slightly flushes at the end of his sentence, his tone is accusatory but still much softer than you’ve heard him speak to others.

you smile a bit at his flustered face but try to suppress it to save his feelings, as you know he will be embarrassed. “i…guess i did not pick up on it. i am sorry,” you stroke your thumb where it rests against the inside of his wrist, “the headpiece is beautiful, i love it. could you please put it on me?”

his confident smile is back. he tugs you closer to him with his free hand, forcing you to bump into his chest. he tilts your head up and gently places the headpiece, that looks suspiciously like a crown, on your head. he holds your face in his hands once it’s in the correct position and places a kiss on your forehead, “beautiful.”

rotxo

he constantly checks up on you

he also brings you things he thinks you might need, and does small things for you so you don’t have to

if you have been working all day and he thinks you may not have had time to eat he will visit you to bring you food and make sure you rest

he will style your hair for you if he notices you’re tired

it really shows that he cares for you and your well being

that would have been more than enough for you to say yes to being his mate on its own

but how he officially asks you is by taking you to a small area on the island where he goes to be alone

sharing a spot so precious to him with someone makes him feel very vulnerable, but he thinks you’re worth it

you stare in awe at the beautiful bioluminescent glow of the plant life surrounding the small pool and below the surface of the water. when rotxo had asked you to join him for a walk so he could, in his words, “talk to you about something important” you didn’t expect him to take you somewhere like this.

“what do you think?” you could hear the nervousness in his voice

your voice is breathy when you answer him, “it…it is so stunning.” you lightly brush you hand along the plants lining the rocks.

after a few moments, you come back to reality. slowly turning to him while your eyes still dance along the glowing life, “what was it you wanted to talk about?” your eyes finally landed on him at the end of your sentence, and you found yourself smiling at how nervous he looked. you took his hands in yours, “what do you look so nervous for?” you tilt your head, teasing smile on your face, “you know i do not bite.”

“i-i know! i just- i am not sure how you are going to react.”

“if this is about what i am almost positive you would only take someone to a place this close to your heart for, then you have nothing to worry about.”

you can see the tension leave his shoulders as he releases a long sigh. meeting your eyes with a much more relaxed expression and a loving smile.

and you think, this boy is going to be the death of me.

[mochi-yu]

Lord..

flowers and ink | lo'ak

➳ pairing ✧ lo'ak x reader

➳ genre ✧ mature. soft friends to lovers. angst, fluff, smut

➳ word count ✧ 4.6k

➳ warnings ✧ characters are aged-up to nineteen, mentions of body discomfort/issues, reader has a v, vaginal fingering, hand-job―honestly, it's pretty vanilla, but i wanted it to be a bit awkward and new, you know?

✎ note(s)―i poured my fucking HEART and SOUL into this fic, so pleassseee i hope the lo'ak stans are fucking hungry, lol < 3

synopsis―with an almost dire nature, lo’ak observes you. soaking up every tick your face makes from the sweet, upward curve of your mouth, to the slow blink of your lashes. as he holds his breath intently—afraid to see anything that might suggest you hated the idea. and so, so terrified that you’ll realize the true intentions behind his offer.

✧ based off of this song, falling for you. please give it a listen!

Lo’ak shifts forward till he’s hunching over his knees, his foot rapidly bouncing on the woven floor. Through the fog and mud accruing in his mind, he can hardly remember his reason for being here. Settled atop your cot, waiting for your predetermined arrival. 

You’d promised to meet him in your Marui pod in the afternoon. But as the sun begins its gradual descent in the sky, Lo’ak’s stomach begins to sour. Something acrid like poison afflicting his nerves. This is a mistake. 

Even Tuktiri, in all her naive childlike innocence, knows better than to take Aonung at his word. The youngest Sully brother knows it, too, from first-hand experience. But despite the events that had occurred several months ago—as a similar trust had led him out into the dark, wading waters beyond the reef—Lo’ak feels as if he has no other choice. 

You were raised alongside Tonowari’s eldest child, and as much as he hated to admit it, you and Aonung had a special bond he would never understand. The two of you were inseparable, latched onto the other long before the Sully family’s arrival. So, when Lo’ak needed answers about you, he went to Aonung. With his head hung low and his pride swallowed like a bitter wad of kelp. 

Sitting on the cot now, though, he still doesn’t know what to make of the information he’d been afforded. Especially since, in a shocking turn of events, Aonung had suffered without his typical smirk and joking remarks. Instead of teasing him, he listened and advised in a way that reminded Lo’ak of his older brother. Distantly caring. As if he’d been told by Eywa herself that the situation was not to be taken lightly.

None of it made sense. And with a hard groan, Lo’ak cards a hand down his cheek.

Pale, listless rays of sunlight blink through the woven cracks in the fabric walls, reminding him of the ever pressing issue of your tardiness. What in the hell is taking so long? His mind feels numb with exhaustion, his every anxious thought through a thousandfold. 

In a desperate need of a distraction, he casts his attention about your home then. Searching for some object of entertainment, or relief. But there’s not much. 

An ostensible collection of inked drawings line the walls—each of local creatures, from insects, to land and sea animals. But it’s hardly a shocking sight to him, as you’re scarcely seen without a brush or piece of parchment. Gray ink stains left marking your hands and thighs often.

His focus then lingers upon an anatomical sketch of a Tulkun. It's amputated fin a dead give-away—poorly sawed-off and sore to look at. As a square smile shapes Lo’ak’s mouth, he shakes his head. His eyes limned with warmth. 

Your disembodied voice abruptly cuts through the air then, fading-in as you approach the pod. And he’s pushed himself onto his feet in an instant, stumbling toward the middle of the room. His hands are lightly greased with sweat and he wipes them on the bare skin of his thighs. 

Back and forth, his mind races with various greetings. As he tries to pick which seems the most inconspicuous. Until he stops cold at the sight of you.

You walk through the cabin entrance then, a tittering smile playing on your lips. As a heavy shadow falls in from behind. 

He swallows hard at the sight of Leaiu, a Metkayina clan member, and the walking poster board for your ideal type, as Aonung had described. Lo’ak blinks rapidly, trying to convince himself otherwise. But there’s no mistaking the broad strength of the Na’vi’s shoulders, or the intricate tribal ink marking his teal skin. Shit.

For a long moment, all Lo’ak can seem to bring himself to do is stare owlishly at the two of you. The muscle in his jaw flexing, as his brow-line irons flat. He’s why you were taking so long? The thought kills any aggression in an instant. His skin blanching. 

You turn half-way on your heel to face Leaiu, and offer a small wave in parting. “I will see you tomorrow, Leaiu?” you asked, your eyes crinkling beneath the soft push of your smile.

Leaiu nods along to your goodbye before scratching at the back of his neck. “Tomorrow around dusk, I'll meet you here,” he said, wetting his lips. 

When you’re eased into a goodbye-hug next, Lo’ak thinks he might be sick. A violent nausea collapsing his chest. Since when have the two of you become so close? And how the hell could he have missed it?

All of a sudden, he feels like he's watching the end of the world.

His vision tips, and before he knows it he’s slumped back down onto your cot. His heart thumping on the floor between his feet. Idiot. How could he have—even for one goddamn second—believed he ever had a chance with you? Aonung’s words echo around his mind, worsening the ick in his throat. 

Reef Na’vi are molded far differently than those of the forest. Their bodies accumulate muscle mass with ease, as they spend their life swimming through hard currents. And their broad forearms and fierce tails are structured for force. Lo’ak feels dizzy thinking about the traits Aonung had listed, and how they all seemed to assimilate to the men of the Metkayina clan.

Tattoos, you have a thing for tattoos. That piece of information had been stressed. And the longer he compares himself to Lieau, the more he recognizes that he’s nothing you want. 

“Hey. Are you okay?” Your voice shatters his reverie, and he’s slow to bring his focus back to you, as you close the curtain-door behind yourself. “You look ill.” With swift, light footsteps, you cross into the center of the cabin. Your arms coming to fold over your chest.

Lo’ak nods briskly, and it takes every bit of strength he has to speak around the stone lodged in his throat. As he tries not to wince at the crack in his voice. “All good,” he said, steeling himself before you. 

You settle on the floor beside his legs then, as he absently bounces a knee. He glances away when your hair curtains your face. The dim torchlight winks in the silver beads found there, and the warm color delineates your skin. Catching in the curve of your lashes. 

With a great sigh, you rest your temple against his leg and feel him still against you. Then, when his tenseness must be too apparent, “are you sure everything is alright?”

Lo’ak’s not used to being honest about his feelings. HIs go-to way of handling them is to shove his emotions deep down, till he’s reached his breaking point and they come bursting out like a torrential volcano.

You’re keenly aware of this as you suck in your bottom lip, your stare steadily trained upon his terse expression. Noting the invisible weight that drags his every feature. 

“Yeah.”

When his voice dies in the air soon after, the following silence presses in on all ends. It pokes at his brain and irritates his breathing. I’m not the one, the thought is swift and furious, and it chases his fading hope like a devil with a gun. 

“Come on, Lo’ak. Do you really think you can fool me so easily?”

Something lurches inside him at your words. A short burst of anger funneling through his veins. He wants to be furious—so, so disappointed—but there’s no one to be incensed at. You’ve done nothing wrong. And with a listless shake of his head, Lo’ak realizes he’s led himself on. Allowed himself to play into every one of your little touches—romanticizing your every word—with a guiltless conscience. 

There’s no one to blame for his broken heart but him, and he’s unsure how to handle that. 

Gnawing on his cheek then, Lo’ak extracts himself from you by pushing himself up from the cot. In passing, you reach out for him, your fingers gliding down the inside of his wrist. But your touch burns, and he can’t take the pangs in his chest a moment longer. 

When your mouth parts gently, Lo’ak is quick to answer the unspoken question. “It’s nothing,” he snapped, more at himself than anyone else. “Your place is so boring, (Y/n). I feel like my brain is melting. What do you even do for fun here?” 

You angle your chin upward, the wide birth of your stare seizing him. And Lo’ak’s face twitches with desperation. He’s being too careless. You’re going to see right through him soon enough, and then everything the two of you are will break apart. Including him. 

Anxiety has thrust its’ fist into his chest and it’s perilously clawing in search of his heart. Any second now, he feels as if he might vomit. 

“Like what?” You asked, tilting your head curiously.

Lo’ak casts his panicked stare about the room. The pod is wide and shallow, all thin woven tarp and textured mangrove bark. Dried herbs and talismans hang from strings tied to the fabric ceiling. It’s only when his focus trains upon the scattered brushes and bottles of ink, though, that some shamble of an idea begins to take form. 

“Draw on me.” He pushed-out before he had a chance to change his mind. His heart hammering outside of his chest.

“What?”

He walks over to the rickety nook-table and picks through the clutter for a thin paintbrush. “I’m serious, you can paint anything you want on me. I promise,” he said, glancing back at you, his expression earnest. 

Following the idea, Lo’ak’s torso heaves softly. With an almost dire nature, Lo’ak observes you. Soaking up every tick your face makes from the sweet, upward curve of your mouth, to the slow blink of your lashes. As he holds his breath intently—afraid to see anything that might suggest you hated the idea. And so, so terrified that you’ll realize the true intentions behind his offer.

It’s been impossible to rid his head of Aonung’s words, though. How your ideal type describes everything Lo’ak isn’t. And although he knows he’ll never be able to compete with Leaiu, he feels this incessant need to try. 

But then your face is brightening, and you’ve rocketed to your feet. A toothy grin sweeping away his nerves in an instant. Lo’ak’s shoulders posturize with relief. A quiet breath escaping him before you’ve guided him onto the floor. And he sits hunched, facing away from the flickering torchlight while you gather-up supplies. 

Now, you take your place behind him though. A spread of containers, filled with various mud-paints and water, cluttered on either side of you. Folding your legs beneath yourself, you situate comfortably, and collect your filbert brush from the floor. 

Lo’ak can’t see you, but his every sense is acutely aware of the heat of your stare. His skin prickles as you eye the bumps of his spine. Your attention trailing down to the poke of his ribs, then back up toward the angular stoop of his shoulders. He feels suddenly exposed before you—naked in a way he’s never known. A feverish heat runs along the nape of his neck to the tips of his pointed ears.

As a child, it didn’t take long for Lo’ak to come to the understanding that he was meant to live in Neteyam’s shadow. While his brother was praised for his handsome looks and his responsible nature, he found himself going unnoticed. Only ever chopped-up to be the troubled one of the Sully kids, when he struggled to act in accordance with his father’s rules.

Now, even as an adult though, he can’t help but cling onto that same expectation. The only time the spotlight seems to fall on him is whenever he’s deep within the throws of a lecture. But it feels too good to just be noticed. Despite the part of him that’s ashamed of being the family disappointment—he can’t help himself anymore.

Lo’ak wonders then if you think he’s more trouble than he’s worth, too. If you eye the thinness of his arms and wish he could look more like Leaiu—tall, muscular, handsome. He wants to ask you, but can’t summon the courage. Instead, he tells himself that he needs you to paint him pretty. So that you might—by some soft whisper of hope—see him in the way he’s so desperate for you to.

Your soft breaths tickle his bare back and the hair on his arm rises in response. The room is getting hotter by now, a feverish feeling simmering under his skin. And Lo’ak refuses to acknowledge how badly he wants you closer, just a little bit nearer to him. But allowing himself to divulge in that train of thought will only lead him down a much more dangerous path. As his fingernails dig blunt crescents into his thighs. 

In all honesty, he doesn’t have the slightest clue as to how you feel about him. You’re impossibly affectionate and sweet with everyone. Every time you grip his hand, or hold him close during a lazy Summertime nap, he can’t help but wonder who else you do those things with. If he’s your favorite boy, or just one of many. 

When you raise the brush to his shoulder blades, Lo’ak squeezes his eyes shut tight. The paint is cold and balmy as it spreads over his skin. Years of practiced skill unfolding upon him. 

Taking inspiration from the details of your every day in Awa’atlu, you bring to life the beauty of the reef on his skin. Where you paint a combination of delicate furling flowers, a world of sea and starlight broken up by groves of coral, and a shipwreck on a bare ocean floor. Briefly, your tongue darts out to wet your lips, as you refresh your brush with a dab of charcoal paint. And you don’t stop until you’ve run out of room on his back. 

Though, having now spun him around to face you, paint begins to dry on his neck, chest, and arms. While Lo’ak can’t bring himself to blink. Unable to tear his gaze from your face, even when your eyes lock with his every so often. You’re just so, so close.

Your warm body is pressed against his just enough to drive him mad. And he can’t help but imagine you scattering kisses along your own artwork; your mouth brushing along the curve of his neck. Stealing his breath. His mind is occupied with thoughts he’s only ever entertained a thousand times before, and yet each excites him all the same.

“You are staring, Lo’ak,” you finally said. He blinks rapidly, his mouth fallen open.

“Sorry, I, uh . . .” Lo’ak hasn’t spoken in hours, his voice a deep rasp, and you shiver in response to the sound. While he struggles to explain himself, his tongue cold and soft. “You are—” Everything I want. “You, uhm . . .”

“I know you told me that everything is okay—” you began. Please don’t, he thinks, unsure of how much longer he can keep his thoughts to himself. “But, I don’t know, you are acting strange.”

He knows. And he’s trying so hard to pull himself together for you. This is the most intimate the two of you have ever been, as he glances down at where you’ve begun to paint the back of his hand. A tearful sun looking back at him. You’re right, and you deserve the truth. But Lo’ak feels oceans away from you. Isolated by the beat and trail of his own thoughts. 

Your lips are only a heartbreak away from his. 

“I, uh . . .” He can’t bear not knowing any longer. Is he too late? Did he ever even stand a chance? “I . . .Since when have you and Leaiu been close?” 

“We’re friends,” you said.

Lo’ak hates that he’s left hanging off your every word, anxiety seizing his chest. Just friends? He doesn’t trust his voice not to give him away, though, and a silent moment passes before he’s able to say a word, “yeah?”

“We sketch together sometimes, and he likes to ask me for advice on his art.”

“I never knew he drew.”

“He is shy about it,” you said, placing your brush in a bowl of water to soak. 

His face is warped adorably with confusion, and a hard pinch has formed between his brows. He’s too cute. Too handsome. 

By the time you feel satisfied enough with your work to call it finished, Lo’ak’s torso has been transformed into a constellation of corrugated shells, delicate butterflies, swimming creatures, and furled stretches of light. And he doesn’t doubt that your art is beautiful—that you’ve somehow made him look beautiful, too. But he’s hesitant to acknowledge his new appearance. Even now, as he gradually raises his hand to his face and sees the petaled ink on his skin, he doesn’t know how to feel. Because you’ve out done yourself. Every inch of his body—of him—has been overshadowed by your masterpiece. 

His smile weakens then, and he grits his teeth to force it back into place

Absently, you reach forward to admire your art, your fingers skimming along the dried paint on Lo’ak’s stomach. In response, he inhales sharply, stiffening. And your reflection in his eyes has become glossed over. Lost. 

“I’ll never look like this,” he finally pushed out. His throat is sore and hard, “I don’t want to look like this.” 

It’s hard not to hate how hopeless he sounds, as he realizes just how much he means it. He wants you to see him as he is. He wants to be enough for his family—for you—as himself. But by admitting it out-loud, he can’t help but feel as if he’s doomed and saved himself all at once.

“Okay.” 

You don’t know what else to say. What would make things better. 

Following a thin vine of intuition, you lift your hands to his face instead. And with a hint of clarity in his eyes, Lo’ak leans into your touch. Clinging to your affection by a spider’s thread of sanity. His skin is so soft, thin and vibrant beneath the spread of your fingers. 

He’s everything you could ever want. 

“Okay,” you repeat, having finally understood.

Wordlessly then, you extract yourself from him and begin to putt around for the rag you’d collected earlier. And after soaking it briefly in a water-bowl, you ring it out. Lukewarm liquid snaking between your hands.

Lo’ak can’t bring himself to take a single breath when you begin to drag the sullied fabric across his skin. Something in his chest hurts; a steady, throbbing ache that pounds along with his heartbeat. As you knead the rag into him, black water droplets trailing down your fingers and wrists. 

Although some of the color leaves a stain, eventually the paint comes off in bleeding strips of gray. “Look at me,” you commanded, stopping to fold your hands over his heart. “I do not want Lieau.”

 His eyes are grave and wide enough to drink from, but prettiest when in the light. 

“Lo’ak, I see you. Only you.”

He pushes out a soft chuckle. But his laughter is more breaths than anything else as he comes to the slow conclusion that this is real. That you want to be his in the same way that he’s always been yours. He tips your head up to kiss you then, his fingers resting just beneath your chin.

Your heart jolts, your mind stutters. He’s perfect. When his hands leave your face to grab at your hips, you allow him to pull you onto his lap like a doll. With your legs locked around his waist, his skinny body fits perfectly against yours.

Eventually, he pulls away. His expression kiss-drunk and glazed, eyes focused on something you can’t see. Panting quietly, his breath fans down your chest. You’re so much warmer now. A sickly sweet heat pooling in your stomach. And as his mouth begins to leave a scattered trail along the curve of your neck, you don’t hesitate. There’s nothing happening now that you haven’t spent forever waiting for.

“Is this okay?” Lo’ak asked, his voice hardly anything more than a gasp for air. His thumb moves over your pulse to trace the top of your tribal tattoo. “We can stop, if you want.” But his face is entirely flushed, a lovely dark shade of blue. Something about the following sheepish look in his eyes tells you he’s okay to take things slow, but is desperate not to. 

Lo’ak has never been anyone’s first choice—always made to feel second best—but now you’ve chosen him. Over everyone else. And he’s so, so scared to lose that feeling. 

When you bury your face into his shoulder then, you feel him melt against you, his arms looping around your back. You can smell the sea salt and minerals on his skin, and you’re struggling to cope. With a frantic heartbeat and disorientating fevers of infatuation. Speaking feels impossible now; your tongue weighted with lead behind your teeth. 

“Say something,” he asked. “I need to know I am doing alright.”

You’re surprised with how honest he’s being, but it feels good to know he’s not embarrassed to be vulnerable with you anymore. As his words spread through you and ache sweetly in your chest. Taking a long breath in then, you nod before collecting your strength. 

“This is what I want,” you said, gathering his hand in yours and pressing a small kiss to his fingers. 

Lo’ak’s head spins with something that feels a lot like love. 

“I see you,” he said. And he has had to do it—to tell you the same thing he’s thought to himself every night before now. “I want you.”

When you lean forward to reconnect your lips then, his hands come to knead your hips. His thumb tracing pathways between the teal stripes there. 

Lo’ak doesn’t know what he’s doing. Not really. But it’s an instinctive motion to hook his fingers around the thin fabric covering your bottom. The skin of your thighs is velvety smooth from where they’re spread on either side of his waist. And he can all but feel his brain short-circuiting beneath your touch.

Adrenaline has you soaring. You’ve never done anything like this—never gone this far for anyone before. As he drags your bottoms down your legs, you raise your hips until the fabric bunches loose around your knees. Then, you settle back down onto his lap, feeling him hard and firm beneath you.

His tail brushes along your leg and twitches, before it's curling against your skin. Soft hair tickling your thigh. 

Slowly, you drop sweet, uncoordinated kisses along the slope of his neck. And you can feel his heartbeat from where you rest your mouth, thumping erratically. Lo’ak’s chest heaves beneath you, his every breath shuddering against his ribcage. 

His hand gathers in your hair then, trailing down your queue, and you shudder beneath the stimulation. Cloying, sensitive chills sparking beneath your skin. And when your hand accidentally brushes over his lap then, Lo’ak squirms. A soft moan falling from his lips that you can’t wait to hear again. 

You slip one hand under the fabric covering his waist, and cup the back of his neck with the other. The first touch leaves your hand wet and sticky, liquid pooling around the tip. Your grasp around him feels awkward, and you’re being guided purely on instinct as you begin to gently rub. But Lo’ak’s eyes flutter, then roll, a sharp gasp tearing through his teeth. 

“Is this okay?” You asked, your voice dripping with nerves, until he’s nodding rapidly. His adams apple dipping low. 

“Ye—yeah. Perfect.”

Lo’ak kisses you next, slow and deep, only to suddenly pull away with a striking look. His eyes search yours then, his pupils blown wide, where only a sliver of gold color remains. “I, uh, want to take care of you, too,” he said.

“I know, I know." Your voice is quiet and gentle.

A heaviness has settled between your thighs, your cunt slick with wetness. Lo’ak glides his fingers between the inside of your legs then, stroking over soft skin. But he doesn’t venture any further. Not yet. 

For a moment, you’ve forgotten yourself until he bucks up against the palm of your hand—desperate for you to carry on with your ministrations. With a small embarrassed smile, you blush, hiding behind your hair. Before continuing to stroke his length. Lo’ak moans then, tilting his head back, exposing the stretch of his throat. 

His fingers curl into your hair, gripping unconsciously hard. He leaks against your hand then, driveling pre onto your fingers, staining the fabric of his bottoms. “Please, I,” he grunts, his lips glossy and parted with labored breaths. “I feel close, I—”

Lo’ak tips forward then, resting his forehead against yours. His skin damp with sweat. When his braid bumps against your cheek beneath the force of movement, he closes his eyes.

He can’t help but feel as if he’s lost in a dream. Everything about this experience feels like something he’s visited before in his sleep—utterly unreal. As so many nights before, he’s woken up from visions of you, with his hand creeping below his waistband for relief. But now, you’re finally here with him. Your breath mixing with his. Your warm skin flush against his own. 

Never before had he expected to fall for someone as hard as this. But Lo’ak thinks he might love you. That you’re the one. Maybe this is exactly how you feel about him, too. 

He comes quick, spilling white all over your hand. His are slipped shut as he shudders, and he buries his face into your hair as soon as it's over. Inhaling your Earthy scent. Lo’ak rests there for a moment, allowing himself to catch his breath as you wrap your arms around him. 

“Did I do good?” You asked then, unable to deny the hint of insecurity that follows afterward. You’re new to this, and although he is too, you still want reassurance. 

Lo’ak softly snorts against you. How could you not know that already?

“It felt good,” he said, wetting his lips. “But I want to take care of you too, now.”

You look beyond needy, your face flushed and pretty. And when he presses his hand against where you’re wet then, you inhale sharply.

The first slide of his finger inside of you stings. While your hands smooth over his back, moving to rest on his shoulders with the need to grip onto something. Anything. 

Your lips reconnect with his until they feel sore. As his finger curls inside you, pressing against a sensitive point he seems to find on instinct. You jerk in response, your chest seizing tight. And when his thumb comes to massage your clit next, your body trembles against his.

Your face twists with pleasure, shocks of it blooming in your stomach. And then you’re coming, spasming around Lo’ak’s slender fingers. 

The beat of your heart pulses in your ears, as he slips out from where you’re wet and dripping. And your mouth parts with a breathless smile. “I think,” you said, regaining your composure slow and steady. “I want to lay down.”

“Me too.” Lo’ak chuckled at that, eyes looking everywhere but right at you—right where you wanted him to look. “I just want to stay here like this. Holding you.” There’s that honesty again—utterly uncharacteristic of the man you've come to know. So open and vulnerable that you feel as if he's always been this way. Some special part of him kept secret just for you.

“Lo’ak,” you said, tucking his braid behind his ear. He drags his focus to the sweet look in your eyes then and swallows hard. “I just want you to know that, you have always been enough for me. And since the first day you came to Awa'atlu, I have been yours.”

He doesn't know how to respond to that—how to speak around the lump that's formed in his throat. Because whatever words Lo'ak might muster would diminish every aspect of how you make him feel. How he'll never forget the way you make his heart race, or what it's like to have you cling onto him like a koala. Or, that he has only ever felt complete with your breath fanning down his neck.

That you're everything he's ever wanted.

That somehow this all still feels like a fever dream.

"Come on, I want to take a nap," you said, delicately extracting yourself from around him.

Lo'ak helps you slip your bottoms back on before the two of you move to your cot in the corner. Then, with your head resting on his chest, you count the low thrumming of his heart. While he twists his fingers in your hair and holds you close. A stupid-cute smile still lingering on his face.

You turn to ghost your lips over his chest then, and mumble against his skin, "my pretty boy."

Fuck. He's all yours.

✎ note(s)―i'm reallyyy hoping lo'ak doesn't seem too oc in this. i feel like i view him a bit differently than others, and there's a lot of baggage still to unpack with him. but i hope i did him justice < 3

[mochi-yu]

cryin.

‘Anything for you.’

Lo’ak x gn!reader

Request: yes | no

@mochi-yu for whoever requested this on your blog, i am so sorry

Warnings: Angst, no comfort, writing this made me sob, good luck reading this

Summary

—▸ Y/n was an Avatar, their human body was dying and so they had to pass through the eye of Eywa. They were sent to the Metkayina clan to help the people with wounded warriors and grew close with Lo’ak.

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．

It was a long flight to the islands, but even still Y/n had high hopes of helping the injured Metkayina people's. Even as a scientist, they brushed up on medicine and all the books the other sky people had brought. It was much easier to learn hands-on rather than reading from a book, y/n just didn’t learn that way so they learnt from the forest peoples, never getting too close to cause them any discomfort and some would come up to them just to help them learn.

They got to work quickly, it was their passion, to help. They wondered if Eywa had cursed them to only help others without ever gaging the thought of helping themselves, it was always their first thought to help or to save, it gave them purpose, yet Eywa is always working to change their way of living in some small way. This, however, wasn’t small; it was like a tsunami headed right for them and all they could do was watch. Eywa as their witness, did they watch. Y/n watched a boy who stuck out like the extra digit they both shared, he was Eywa’s perfect creation and everything paled in comparison to his blinding smile and those sunset coloured eyes. By the Great Mother, his eyes, they were like orbs of pure gold and a heat that melted Y/n, it was like Eywa spent her entire life trying to create the purest form of beauty and it finally paid off. They stole glances to the boy but never dropped what they were doing to gawk at him, yet Eywa; like a predator toying with its prey, drew the boy to them. The boy never directly spoke to them, even if Y/n heard him laughing and talking with his friends, nothing could prepare them to hear him talk to them.

“You’re the ‘dreamwalker’ everyone is talking about, right?” His voice cut through the mental gymnastics Y/n was doing. He only got a soft nod as they set the jars with neatly printed labels. “Yes, I’m Y/n. How may I help?” They internally shot themself in the knee, trying their best not to cringe at their words. “Nah, I don’t need your help. Just wanted to find out why your weirder than my sister.” He nonchalantly wandered around Y/n’s pod, messing with jars that had their place yet never putting them back correctly. Y/n had to stop themselves from pushing the boy’s hand away from their jars, wondering how long it’ll take before the jars are in their proper places. “Why do you have so many jars?” He finally turned to them, looking directly into their eyes. “It depends on what someone comes to me with, since Ronal is taking time away from her healing duties for her baby.”

And that was the start of it all, Lo’ak and Y/n, Y/n and Lo’ak, thick as thieves and as sharp as daggers. You’d never see one without the other, more often than not; you likely wouldn’t see them much at all. The pair raced both in the water and in the air, the off chance Y/n lost Lo’ak would brag to anyone who’d listen(just not his family), Lo’ak constantly messing with the neatly organized jars followed by him getting chased out by a very irritated Y/n. It was peaceful then, when nothing bad could ever touch them, nothing could ever tear them apart. Not even Jake or Netyri, Lo’ak would spend the night in Y/n’s pod and ramble about anything and everything until his eye lids went heavy, but it’s Lo’ak here; he doesn’t stop talking then. It’s only when Y/n finally cuts in and tells him to finish the gibberish story in the morning, but the stories never continued and that was perfectly fine. Y/n knew the endings regardless, and Lo’ak knew Y/n’s stories like he was right there with them. But, as much as we would all enjoy a good ending, not all stories end with a happily ever after Dear reader. Especially not this one… It didn’t take long before the sky people gathered an army yet again, no matter how many times anyone tried, sky people spread like a wildfire. An infectious disease that no one has the cure to even if they tried. Sky people hunted Jake and his family no matter where they ran to, no matter how many lives they took. They would stop at nothing, and Y/n knew they needed to help. That is their main purpose to Eywa, help everyone, fall in love with a boy you know you cannot have, then rip that boy’s heart out of his chest and light it ablaze while it’s still beating. Eywa was cruel and harsh, she knew not everyone could have a happy ending with the person they thought of, no matter how much they loved the other. And much like any good story, it hurts when you wish and pray for it to end happily. Jake instructed everyone, making a plan with backups should anything go wrong, that was what Jake sully did. He thought everything out, nothing should go wrong.

It was painfully obvious that Jake sully hadn’t thought about this until it unfolded before his eyes: his son, huddled over his sister’s in a last stitch effort to protect them, Tuk’s soft cries and pleas for her parents fell on deaf ears, Kiri whispering prayers to the Great mother that they make it out alive. Spider next to his “father” Miles Quatich as if nothing was wrong with his “father” holding the people he grew up with hostage, of course Jake and Netyri were beyond pissed yet they could do nothing to stop the man who promised to kill their kids if Jake didn’t die first. Kiri still whispering prayers to her mother, the Great Mother seemed to hear them, the leathery wing beats of Ikran crowding the air, Y/n at the helm, they all dove; plummeting to the sea below.

Not missing a single beat, the normally upbeat and energetic Y/n looked dead, blood dripping from their digits as they stalked closer it was almost as if they could feel Eywa’s whispers reminding them that if they go through with this there won’t be any turning back. But like Eywa had expected, Y/n and dug their grave and was ready to lie in it. They fought tooth and nail against Spider and Quatich, giving Jake and Netyri the time to free their children and to run, because if they stayed they would surely die. Lo’ak never stopped calling out to Y/n, his voice harsh in his throat as it mixed with his sobs, being pulled away from the one other person who saw him. They watched it happen, the red glint of a long piece of metal cutting through their body at an unnatural angle, blood leaking from the new hole in their body but what none of them expected; they forced the metal to dig into Spider’s chest, watching Quatich’s face burn with anger and sorrow. Quatich soon followed by being torn in two by Ikran, a kinder way to go out compared to the searing pain that cut the adrenaline rush in half.

Spider’s body fell limp onto the cold deck of the boat and Y/n soon joined him, Lo’ak slipping through his parents arms and making a bee line to Y/n. “Hang on, Ma Y/n. Hang on.. please.” He begged through choked sobs. It didn’t take long for them to return, Ronal seeing the unfixable wound Y/n had faced, she took them to the Tree of Memories, where Y/n would be connected to the tree in hopes to keep them alive. It was a very difficult thing to find out, especially for Lo’ak, he had lost his brother and now his other half? Why was the great mother so cruel?

It had been months since it happened, Y/n’s body curled in on itself but only opened itself to Lo’ak, as of Y/n knew he was there. It was sad really, his best friend in a coma but knew exactly where he was and when. It took time before he could even think of connecting to the tree himself in hopes of talking to Y/n, but he tried it once and sobbed in his sister’s arms for hours. Y/n looked the same as the week before they left, before the day they left him. The pair talked for hours, Y/n always reminding him that he needs to go up for air. People barely saw Lo’ak, he was a ghost, a shell of the boy his family knew.

No one knew if you’d ever wake up, if you’d ever bring back Lo’ak’s soul, but everyday everyone felt guilty since the day you left. But it was true that no one saw one of you without the other, so they knew that Lo’ak had to be with you.

[mochi-yu]

Ooof my liking for Neteyam is growing 😮‍💨

general neteyam hcs again bc why not

neteyam x gn!na’vi!reader

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

he likes to wrap his tail around your waist when you guys are around a group of people. his protective nature naturally makes him feel the need to protect you at all times; wrapping his tail around you gives him reassurance that you’re safe

he manspreads a lot. like in atwow when tonowari was talking to the kids his legs were spread, but it makes a perfect seat for you. you sit in his lap with your back against his chest

he rests his chin on the top of your head when you sit in his lap. it’s his favorite thing to do

he also loves playing with your hair when you’re in his lap, he’ll attempt to braid it (but fail miserably.. he has the hands of a warrior, not a braider.)

speaking of braiding, you’re the only one he lets braid his hair. he says neytiri is too “rough” (he just wants an excuse to be close to you)

lends you his necklaces to wear. he thinks they suit you better, anyways.

“it compliments your eyes. keep it, it looks better on you”

he tries to hide his wounds from you. he hates worrying you even the slightest, but you know better

he tries to find kiri as quick as he can before you find out he’s wounded because you always end up lecturing him for being so careless which just ends up exasperating both of you

but no matter how much he hates your lectures or your worried expression, he can’t deny the warmth and comfort you bring when you tend to his wounds

you’re so gentle compared to anyone else, and you always have a serene look on your face that he could admire for hours

[mochi-yu]

Love me some Lo’ak headcanons 🤌🥹

could you please write some sappy Lo’ak x gn!reader head cannon’s?

Sappy Lo'ak headcanons!

a/n: i was literally clenching so hard trying to write this because i didn't know how to stop hcs from turning into a full on story 😭 anyways, lets gaur!! reqs r still open

You and Lo'ak met while joining the warriors at the ground, the two of you supposed to be spotters, yet still disobeying orders and getting to the group of warriors handing out the rifles.

"Hey! Aren't you the Olo'eyktan's kid?" you yelled at the younger Sully son.

His eyes widened and lips parted slightly when he turned his head to turn his head to the source of the sound, the view he was being met with was almost sending him into a permanent shock, stunned by your features.

"Y-Yeah, aren't you one of the spotters that were at the campsite earlier?" he gives a wide smile at the sight of you, not believing that someone as beautiful as you could talk to him.

You laughed, "We aren't supposed to be here!" a giggle erupts from you, cocking the weapon handed to you.

A few months had passed since your first encounter together, growing closer since then, getting into more frequent trouble than ever.

The two of you would always be found leaving a place that looked like that was wrecked by a Thanator, you and your best friend being the cause of the ruckus.

He would often be bringing you trinkets, babbling you about the "useless shit" he found - in reality, he was practically blushing really hard from both the embarrassment and shyness he developed around his crush because he has observed that they keep all of the items he had retrieved for you.

He was also VERY, VERY, touchy whenever you guys are sneaking out, usually telling you something along the lines of "Shut up, I'm only doing this so you can go back alive to the camp in one piece or else your dad would kill me." but, he was always feeling jittery when he held you close to him, wanting to rush into his bed face first and let out a girly squeal with his legs kicking in the air due to the minimum distance you guys shared.

Once he introduced you to his family, you all basically clicked, although, he was being extra possessive and much more of a show-off when you two were close to Neteyam, being insecure that Neteyam would once take the spotlight again.

When the two of you would play with Tuk, you guys would play pretend marriage, smiling to yourself at the thought of Tuk in a make-shift gown made out of leaves.

"You may now kiss, newly wed!" The youngest Sully exclaimed, in the middle of you and Lo'ak that were facing one another.

Both of your hearts thumped in your chest as both of you awkward teenagers were just facing one another holding eye contact as if telepathically communicating.

"Well?! What are you two doing?! Waiting for air to push the both of you?! I said you may now kiss!"

Lo'ak engulfed your smaller build of hands into his five fingered ones, cupping them into his hands and landing butterfly-inducing pecks on your palms and fingers. Tuk squealing in the background.

He then soon lets go of your hands, cups your face, gazing at your perfectly sculpted features before bringing his lips closer to your forehead, leaving you blushing as your delicate skin and his hydrated lips made the intimate touch.

"OH MY GOODNESS!! AHH!! I DON'T THINK THIS WOULD JUST BE A PRETEND MARRIAGE ANYMORE!' Tuk cheerfully screamed with the butterflies in her stomach, thinking she could have just potentially found her sibling in law.

Ever since Tuk shared the eventful evening to her whole family, they were basically teasing Lo'ak to the point he couldn't even achieve a wink of a sleep.

They were all rooting for Lo'ak to make a move on the sweet Na'vi named [Y/N].

"Hey bro! Better make a move before they mate with someone else!" Neteyam says as he shrugs by his younger brother.

Though, not only his family was the only one teasing him. Your family was secretly observing the two of you from afar, often saying things like "Ah, our baby's all grown up already, ready to have a mate!" making you have a purple hue out of embarrassment.

More moons have passed, you and Lo'ak have made it a hobby to sing each other's songcords to one another.

You had already made it a routine to a point you had memorized his songcord, you had stopped because you had expected it to end already - though, what you failed to notice was that Lo'ak had added another cord to his songcord.

"I thank Eywa, for the gift she had given in the form of you. I let my heart choose, leading me off to, you. Ma [Y/N], Ma [Y/N].." his new cord ends as he kept his gaze on you.

"Ma Lo'ak."

a/n: its like 2 days ever since i started writing fanfics guyz pls spare me i dont know how to write good yet 😭😭😭 i literally dont know how to write headcanons bcs theyre not supposed to turn into long ass stories 💔 anyways, reqs still open

[mochi-yu]

Empathy pt.3

Lo’ak/fem!reader

pt.1 pt.2

Apologies if this chapter is short, I didn’t want to mix the next part with this one!

The flight back to the Ayram Alusìng was reticent, the high emotions from the events that conspired still raw, staggering. The gentle breeze of the night sky was fleeting against your cheeks, your lungs taking in the fresh air with a deep inhale, the spasms of your aching muscles sent sharp pangs throughout your body. You simply could not wait to get home.

Having been too mentally and physically exhausted you found yourself too weak to perform tsaheylu, the cries from your muscles had turned to joy when Lo’ak had helped you onto his Ikran, quickly taking off after his parents and siblings with you in front.

“You ok?” you felt a warm chest press against your back, the sudden gentle pressure making you wince slightly, the feeling of Lo’aks front and his lips next to your ear made you forget about your pain even if for a second. You answered with a nod, a sudden sharp turn making you hold onto dear life around the sky creatures neck, shooting him a glare as another shudder of pain waved over your body at the sudden movement but any irate feelings quickly dissolved at the sight of the apologetic smile on his lip, his arms coming to rest on either side of you as you lowered yourself to lay against the ikran, securing your safety from falling.

“We’ll be there soon, hang tight..” his focus shifted entirely on getting back home, your tired eyes fixed on the luminescent glows of the forest below, marveling in the beauty that only appeared in the darkness of the moonlight, your own na’vi freckles beginning to glow. Paired with the tranquil scenery and the blissful wind you quickly lost track of time, feeling the tension in your person start to calm.

The familiar view of your safe haven carved into the sky blessed your eyes, Lo’ak maneuvering his beast skillfully as he swept under the summit and into the cave system before perching on the outskirts of the entrance. His parents and siblings had arrived before him and he could make out the figures of Kiri and Tuk as they peeked into their parents hut, Kiri ushering you over with a wave of her hand. Hopping down from the Ikran you gave it a soft caress along its snout as Neteyam approached, giving his brother a squeeze on the shoulder before turning to you with a worried expression, “how are you feeling?” He asked.

You never really spent much time with the older brother aside from when he would teach you how to properly hold and use a bow in your childhood lessons, his annoyance always apparent whenever Lo’ak would interrupt and whisk you away, but in time, you did master the art of archery, even becoming proficient enough to join the hunter’s on their foraging for big game. The pride that had shown on Neteyams face when you brought down your first Angtsìk made you smile fondly at the memory. You’ve definitely come a long way.

You beamed with a smile, the flight had done wonders on your tendons and the aches had subdued, save for a few bruises but none that would not go away in a few days time, you rubbed your forearm, enjoying the way they no longer felt sore, “much better, thank you! resting definitely helped.”

Neteyams lips flashed you a grin in return, pleased with your words, “that is good, I am glad!” - he glanced back at his parents hut, his expression turning serious, “mom and dad are both talking, not sure of what but it has Kiri and Tuk’s interest..”

Lo’ak couldn’t deny his mild interest and neither could Neteyam, sharing a nod between you three before making your way to Kiri who gestured for you to be hushed, the sound of heated voices made your ears twitch as you brought the side of your face closer to the roof of the hut, Neytiri’s forlorn tone picking up their tense conversation.

“I cannot..you cannot ask this, we will not leave my people,” you could hear footsteps as she paced around the hut, “I will not leave my people.”

“He’s hunting us, he is targeting our family..” Neytiri’s frustration sliced through the tension, “you cannot ask this! The children, everything they have ever known, the forest!” - the desperation that coated her words made your heart clench, but so did the thought of abandoning your childhood home, the forest where you wandered for hours aimlessly and without a destination, the nightly escapes with Lo’ak climbing up the giant vines to the highest peak of the Hallelujah mountains just to race eachother on your Ikrans, no more visits to see your mother and tell her about your days, rambling on about the most random of things.

Oh, your mother.

“He had our children! He had them under his knife!” there was a small moment of silence that fell over the two parents, your thoughts started swimming, just the thought alone of leaving your mother made you feel sick, never being able to come back and see her, it hurt. You couldn’t possibly agree to do such a thing. Your eyes fell on Kiri, who didn’t seem the slightest bit phased by what you just heard, but you weren’t surprised. She could feel mother anywhere, hear her heartbeat and communicate with her in a way you had grown to envy. And you envied it now.

You tore your gaze away from Kiri and abruptly stood, ignoring the questioning looks from the group as you made way to the edge of the cliff, fitting your riding visor as Lo’aks footsteps fell behind you with his hand clasping onto your wrist, turning you to face him, the frown on his lips made you think twice but it wasn’t enough to deter you - “where are you going?”

you pushed the green demon of envy to the side, just enough to make your smile believable but Lo’ak was no fool, your eyes did not match the sincerity of your lips. “I’m just going for a ride, I have to think about some things..” you gave him no opportunity to stop you as you whistled for your Ikran, his familiar patterned wings coming into view as he perched beside you, quickly performing tsaheylu and taking off with nothing but your scent left behind.

Soaring high amongst the mist your eyes admired the green terrain below, the canopy of trees, the plethora of waterfalls and giant rocky structures that could still be made out clearly from miles away. It was breathtaking and you were proud to call it your home - you scowled, the sadness that you felt before had turned to anger, anger at the sky people, anger at Eywa for making you leave all that you had ever known, anger at Eywa for treating you so differently from your sister. Why were you so unfavored?

a deep sigh passed your lips, that displeasure turning to sadness once again. Your ikran let out a strong rumble from its chest, feeling every bit of your emotions through your intertwined bond, you smiled sadly at him with your fingers stroking his long neck before tilting your head up to stare at the endless dark sky above, “I’m okay, Ikä’te, just troubled..”

your eyes fluttered shut, basking in the iciness of the early night eclipse, the sight of endless stars soothed your troubled emotions. but it wasn’t for long, curiously peeking to see the cause of the sudden shadow that blocked your stargazing, pleasantly surprised to see another ikran flying above you, watching as it’s large wings dove straight down and with an elegant turn to align with your own. An apologetic expression ghosting your features as you locked eyes with Lo’ak, the guilt from brushing him off making a pit in your tummy, he simply brought two fingers to his forehead before slowly trailing them down, his braids swaying with the wind and the corner of his lips turning up.

I see you.

heat rose to your cheeks but you refused to let the fluster get to you, holding onto his gaze as you returned his gesture to which he responded with steering his Ikran into your own, but just enough to graze wings, an act he had done numerous times growing up - the initiation of a chase; one you never backed down from.

With a yell into the sky and his hands pounding the broadness of his chest, he gave you one final grin before swooping down, your joyous giggle and harsh emotions being left to the wind as you followed suit, the adrenaline pumping into your veins. Through tight rocky corridors, unhinged vines, and narrowingly skimming the side of the large floating summits, you and Lo’ak were in pursuit of eachother, taking turns between chase or be chased. The smell of dewy earth penetrated your nose as the fog engulfed the mountains, but that didn’t stop you from your little game.

Lo’ak twisted his body to look behind him with a smirk plastered on his face, steering his Ikran with one hand. But when his eyes landed on you, he took you all in, his peripheral a blur and smirk slowly fading. The expression on your face; the way your eyes twinkled and squinted when your lips would pull back into a cheeky smile, your laughter free to the wind as you threw your head back, you looked ethereal under the moonlight glow. And he wondered when exactly those feelings in his heart had started to simmer, growing hot with each touch, each lingering look, using any excuse for physical touch. And when you opened your eyes and fixed your gaze onto him, caught, he didn’t look away this time.

Lo’ak and you were no fools, you both had noticed the shift in your relationship all those years ago, when you were both fourteen and of age. Right after Neteyam and yourself had completed the rite of passage, when a young Na’vi earned their place amongst the clan through Iknimaya and Uniltaron. Though you were not much of a hunter, much preferring healing, you excelled with the elder brothers lessons and at the behest of Jake, you took your chance and sealed your place with the Omatikaya. Right after the vast celebration you and Lo’ak had sneaked off on another of your nightly rendezvous, chasing each other through the trees with little regard of Jake’s rules, much like earlier that day, ending up at the exact same clearing as all that time ago. These nightly escapades were what you held onto so dearly, when Lo’ak would wear his heart on his sleeve and let you into the darkest corners of his thoughts, about living up to his father, never being able to shine through Neteyam’s shadow, being a freak for being so different.

And you listened, you listened and voiced your thoughts when you felt it was right. Easing his pain with your words and relating to him with your own similar struggles. It’s what brought you two closer throughout your childhood, being outcasts, never living up to your siblings, that demon dna that coursed through your blood stream. But something had been different that night, under the sweet cool canopy and the plethora of glowing shrubbery - then as a blossoming woman, you no longer saw Lo’ak as the tedious boy who always found ways to string you along in his mischief, the small unimportant crush you had on him had withstood your attempts to push it away and on that night it spread it’s warmth and coated Lo’ak in a new light.

And as you grabbed his large hands and pulled them into your lap, you knew then that you had chosen him. Even if he had not completed his own rite of passage, you promised yourself to wait for him, taking him by full surprise as he gazed at you confused, his own heart pounding in his chest. But you simply looked at him fondly, uttering the same delicate words you spoke to him earlier, you saw him for him. Not the man his father wanted him to be or the man Lo’ak wished he was. And it wouldn’t be till now, three years later, that he admitted those same feelings to himself, to afraid and insecure to let them be heard that day.

But his confidence was not there, the constant comparison between him and his brother, his father never saying one good thing about him once he was old enough to do what he wanted and form his own thoughts, it made him an insecure man. And even now as he watched you soar in front of him with the feelings in his hand clear and relevant to himself, he still questioned his worthiness to be your mate.

“Are you going to tell me what caused you storm off earlier?” Lo’ak asked beside you, having spent a good while flying, the two of you had found a nice slab of moss covered rock with a beautiful star gazing view. He placed his chin on his palm, “that wasn’t very like you.”

You sighed, averting your gaze downward as you played with the leather of your bracelet, it was silly really, now that you thought about. It was not Kiri’s fault that she was able to feel closer with mother, your envy and anger had been misplaced, a simple unfortunate circumstance of your birth, you guessed. He awaited your response, eyes watching as you fidgeted at your wrist, but you knew Kiri had not revealed what she knew to everyone just yet. You could not betray her like that. “I’m just upset.”

“About?” He pressed more, “upset at the fact that everything will change..” you breathed out, shoulders slumping. “There will be no more this,” you gestured towards the sky and forest below, “no more little games in the sky or finding new areas and what not on patrols, no more sneaking out at night.” you muttered the last part so low he was almost unable to make it out, but he caught it, eyebrows raising and that familiar clench in his stomach appearing. He scoffed, laying his gaze onto the bright little dots above, “nonsense, it will all stay the same, just in a different place…”

Your eyes landed on the side of his face, trailing the outline of his jaw to his lips, to his furrowed eyes. Normally you could gauge what he was feeling through his eyes alone but not this time. “I’ll be damned if I let these traditions die.” His words caught you by surprise, a smile creeping onto your lips as you looked at him fondly. He peeked at you through the corner of his eye, taken aback by the pure adoration on your face, the clench squeezed tighter.

“You promise?” you hummed, holding out your blue pinky to him, his own intertwining with yours, a smirk etched on his lips as he pushed the feelings in his gut to the side. “Of course skxawng..”

#lo’ak x y/n #avatar the way of water #lo’ak imagine #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak #lo’ak sully #lo’ak x you #atwow loak #atwow #neteyam sully #jake sully #neytiri sully #kiri sully #tuk sully

[mochi-yu]

Quaritch coming back from the hell to throw hands with a dad, his wife and their four kids

[mochi-yu]

“Empathy” is beautiful💌.

Me right now 🥺 you’re beautiful, I appreciate you, I love you ♡

[mochi-yu]

Thank you for your service! (´∀`)

could you perhaps do a Lo’ak x male/gender neutral, Avatar reader? where the reader sacrifices their life to save Lo’ak and ends up being connected to the memory tree(the underwater glowing tree) so they could survive via Eywa’s mighty heartbeat. Lo’ak visiting every day just to see them again, having the readers body gravitate toward Lo’ak even while technically unconscious.

if you don’t like that idea, that’s okay! i just crave Lo’ak with a male/gender neutral reader

omg this is such a neat idea!! I would LOVE to write this but I’m not confident in my writing abilities to be doing requests :(

I’ll leave some tags and hopefully someone will take this up! a million apologies ♡