Deep | Tsireya

First official still from Avatar: Fire and Ash!! 🩵

Little Gift - Snap

Summary: Your temper may be your down fall.

Warnings: DUBCON / NONCON, MDNI, aged up characters, NSFW, explicit content, kidnapping, rough, humiliation, alien/human relationship, swearing, power imbalance, yandered qualities, posessive behavior, dom/sub dynamics, punishment, etc.

A/N: Happy New Years, my lovelies ;)

Adult Neteyam pic by Cinetrix

Little Gift Masterlist

For lack of a better, less vulgar term, pussy whipped is how you would describe Neteyam. From the first time he sheathed himself inside your tight warmth there has been seemingly nothing else on his mind but a repeat. And while your lips spew endless complaints and cursed remarks, the honey between your legs is all the encouragement he requires. 

It's frustrating. Draining. Yet an inconvenience that is hard to voice properly when your legs are trembling around his waist and synapsis going off like fireworks until the post orgasmic haze drowns you in its wake. There is nothing left but the caress of his skin. The hardness that fills you to the brim. Even the taste of his seed coated along your tongue and throat. 

He has become your inescapable vice

There are benefits, however. Because when you're lying there with nothing but static bliss lining your consciousness, Neteyam swarms in that bliss too. And it’s only taken two days to identify that as the opportune time to sway his decisions.

Neteyam will never let you go. That is a reality you have begrudgingly come to acknowledge. 

But there are ways to coerce him into giving you certain privileges. A few sweet words with his cock still sunk inside of your heat and you had secured a new, more modest, loincloth and more importantly, your precious music box. This new sway was slowly making your life in the Olo’eyktan’s grip more comfortable. Perhaps too comfortable. 

When eclipse’s glow glimmers through the marui walls and a warm large frame curls around your form as you sleepily watch the ballerina twirl, it's hard to keep that small smile from your lips. Difficult to yearn for the nights you spent alone in your twin sized bed with only the cold metal walls for company. And even when the Olo’eyktan’s deep voice rumbles that it’s time for sleep and a hand reaches over to shut the box, you can’t stop yourself from following his command as skilled fingers run through your hair. 

You’re losing the battle but that won’t keep you from fighting to win the war. 

Snuggling in Neteyam’s grip may have its perks but there are still constant annoyances that strengthen your disdain for this new life. The biggest of which being his younger brother. The same male that had not only watched you struggled upon the tarmac of Bridgehead but happily participated in your humiliation without a second thought. Perhaps your hatred would not run so deep if Lo’ak had at least shown an ounce of shame for his actions but his demeanor proves to be quite the contrary. 

You haven’t spoken to him since the RDA’s departure, nor do you want to, but Lo’ak is always there. In the midst of bustled village life his eyes pin on you. With Neteyam is dragging you along the forest floor with a firm grip on your wrist, Lo’ak’s lips curve into that same cocky smirk. 

Avoidance is the strategy you cling to so when Neteyam wakes to inform you of your babysitter for the day, panic springs forward quickly. To your dismay even the sweetest words and filthiest of touches does not sway Neteyam from his decision. Lo’ak has once again become your default supervisor after the stunt you had pulled with Spider. 

Pussy whipped he may be but even Neteyam reaches his limit after too much whining and begging. A firm promise of punishment if you continue is what it takes to finally stop your coercion. 

So here you sit. Defeated and silent in Lo’ak’s marui, counting down the hours until Neteyam returns. 

Lo’ak, who tends to a simple meal over the flames, periodically burns his attention into the back of your head. Fighting the urge to squirm under the awkward circumstances you opt to distract yourself by observing his humble abode. It’s different from Neteyam’s. Where the Olo’eyktan must have everything in its rightful place and organized at all times, Lo’ak is at ease with some clutter and a relaxed space instead. The only items that have a strict placement are the guns hung across his wall. No doubt high enough to be out of your reach. 

“Is this how it’s going to be?” 

You don’t respond, motionlessly faced away. 

“Silence forevermore to punish me for my actions?” Lo’ak lets out a mocking sigh of sadness. “However will I survive?” 

It takes effort to halt your teeth from grinding. Na’vi senses are much more responsive to sound than your own and you’ll be damned if Lo’ak gets even an inkling of how much he is bothering you. Like a statue, you remain still and silent. 

“Although I’m not sure how good of a consequence it is. It may be nice having some peace from your constant whining.” 

Despite your better judgment you sneak a glance at him from the corner of your eye. As expected, Lo’ak is on his haunches over the fire with an ease only he can muster under the tension in the room. His tail curls casually along the floor but his ears are perked, awaiting a response. 

This is only meant to get a rise out of you. It seems bugging you is one of his favorite past times so bugged you shall not be. 

“Or maybe this is my reward instead, for bringing you to such bliss.” He muses and heat rises like an inferno along your skin. The vein along your forehead becomes more pronounced. “What can I say? I believe in the importance of a woman’s pleasure.” 

Rage springs you to your feet in an instant, turning on your heel to glower at him. 

“I was in trouble and you took that remote and-”

“And helped you enjoy a moment that would have otherwise been depressing for you. Something I wouldn’t have to have done if you hadn’t decided to come watch the torment yourself.” He quips back, brows raised as he holds your stare. 

Small hands clenched into fists, you can’t stop your feet from stomping towards him. 

“You are an absolute idiot!” 

“Maybe so but even an idiot like me can see right through you.” 

“Is that so? And what wise insight does the mighty prince have on me?” You sneer, watching his tail perk up at the sound. 

“I saw the way you looked at me.” 

You can feel your expression falter as your mouth runs dry. 

“What?”

“I saw the way your eyes wandered and hungrily took in every inch of me. Even better, I could smell the shift in your scent, the stronger perfume it took on.” It’s his own eyes now that dilate and pin you into place. Much like his brother, Lo’ak has a knack for sending a devilish shiver just from the fixation of those golden orbs. 

“You’re crazy.” Swallowing the saliva pooling along your tongue, you take extra care to keep yourself from stuttering. Especially when Lo’ak slowly takes a crouched step forward. Stubbornness keeps your feet planted. 

“For a moment I thought the guards would be the only thing keeping you back from crawling to my feet.”

“Fucking delusional asshole you-”

“That’s not a criticism, tawtute.” Lo’ak’s holds his hands up in surrender. “Neither is it a complaint.” He shrugs, carefully bringing him one step closer. Suddenly you are regretting not fighting Neteyam on taking your breathing serum this morning because that glass mask would at least provide some illusion of protecting your personal space. “But it is hypocritical to chew me out for playing with that remote when you were drooling over me the entire time. Don’t you think?”

Perhaps being around the Na’vi has caused you to pick up more of their habits than you’ve realized because at those words you can feel your own lips curling back, ready to bare your blunt teeth in a vicious snarl. Keeping a cool composure is seeming less and less enticing with every word that comes out of Lo’ak’s twisted lips. 

“I think Neteyam will have quite a few things to say when I tell him his younger brother has been lurking too close for comfort.” You grit out between clenched teeth. Lo’ak doesn’t meet your anger with his own. In fact, it is the glimmer of mischief remaining in his features that has your rage reaching new levels. It’s difficult to control your temper when those pearly whites are flashing back at you with glee. 

“Well,” One last step and you can feel the brush of his breath. “Lucky for you when Neteyam is in a good mood he has been known to share.” 

It’s difficult to say which actions set you off. Perhaps it’s his insinuation or maybe the way Lo’ak’s eyes bare into you without a flicker of shame. But whatever it is, one thing is for certain, you wish for nothing more than to wipe that grin off of his face. To make him hurt.

Those wishes, however, are what has your body moving on instinct instead of reason. Because before you can blink your hands are wrapped around the one vulnerability Lo’ak has, the only way to make him hurt. His kuru. And the next, your teeth are viciously sinking into that thick braid. 

That grin is whipped away and with it comes a shout that echoes through the village. 

It’s too late to go back now. Once the adrenaline, anger, and temporary triumph at seeing Lo’ak crumple has dissipated you are left to stew in the reality of your situation. Neteyam is going to whip your ass. And with your hands tied to a stump outside of the healer’s tent while Lo’ak is treated there is very little you can do to stop that. 

More likely than not, Neteyam already knows what has occurred. A few Na’vi had flown off mere seconds after Lo’ak had entered the tent and you would bet your right hand they were looking to report to the Olo’eyktan. So he knows.

Just because he knows the story, however, does not mean there isn’t a chance to tell it from your perspective. Preferably before a certain Omatikaya prince spins it his way. So as your palms become sweaty and the minutes pass by, your eyes roam the forest like a guard dog on watch. They search for the very first glimpse you can catch of Neteyam, your first lines of defense locked and loaded. 

When Neteyam’s ikran lands you hastily sit up on your knees. He walks with a purpose, long legs carrying him towards the tent at a pace you would never be able to match even without being tied in place. 

“Neteyam!” You call for him, tugging at the bonds. Golden eyes flicker your way but his expression remains blank. “He was taunting me!” Perhaps not the best defense at a time like this but the lack of Neteyam’s attention has you blurting out the first thing to come to mind. “He was saying all of these awful-”

“Stay here, pet.” He says evenly as if you have any other choice with your wrists tightly binding you into place. And that’s all you receive before he is ducking into the tent. 

Time ticks by at a taunting pace. Every minute that those voices rumble from the tent in a foreign tongue is one minute more that you are left to hypothesize what punishment awaits you. You’ve acted out before, escape attempts, attitude, starving yourself, but nothing like this. Besides the consequences of tricking Spider you’ve never gone out of your way to hurt someone else. All of those past episodes have been solely focused on running away. 

Neteyam has been very clear on how he feels about such disobedience, but this infraction is new territory. Territory you should have never let yourself fall into when you’ve seen how creative Neteyam can be. Dread sinks low and deep as you sit there staring at the canopy above. 

There’s no guessing what tale Lo’ak is weaving inside of that tent but you can only imagine that the other Na’vi exiting to give them privacy is a bad sign. Their voices are kept low, not that it matters when they remain speaking in the Na’vi tongue. Every now and then you hear your name thrown into the mix. At some point it starts to feel intentional, yet another way to have your anxiety spiking.

You’re sorry.

You really are.

Sorry that your own temper has landed you into this mess and sorry that all the odds are now stacked against you. Is that not enough? You’ve been a dutiful ‘pet’ for Neteyam these past few days, despite your own objections. You haven’t tried to run away in almost a week now and you’ve even taken a break from ripping apart the bow Neteyam ties around your neck. 

And perhaps, if Neteyam knew better than to leave you with his arrogant little brother there would be no injury in the first place. One Sully male is enough to deal with, but two is where you draw the line. Two sets of golden eyes that see right through you. Two nearly identical smirks that fall into place the second you are trapped into feeling your body’s natural needs. 

Lashing out at Lo’ak may put you in deep water with Neteyam, but maybe if you’re lucky it may also keep his brother off your back for a while. Give you a moment to breathe away from that penetrating gaze. 

Neteyam’s footsteps interrupt your train of thought. Scrambling to sit up again you rush to get a few words out, but he is faster. The Olo’eyktan unsheathes his knife, cuts your bonds and calmly takes a hold of your arm.

“Teyam,”

“Time for dinner, pet.” Pulling you gently onto your feet your neck cranes to get a better look at his expression. Nothing but a cool exterior to observe and while the absence of red hot anger should be relieving it has a countering chilling effect instead. 

That aloof composure remains throughout dinner even as your explanation spews out messily. Neteyam doesn’t respond, doesn’t react. He simply eats.

And that detached presence sends goosebumps along your arms. 

You never thought you would come to this point, but you start to wish instead for him to lash out. Perhaps sink you under his larger frame and give you that scolding look that still holds a shadow of amusement. You would brace yourself for a night of pleasure and pain mixed into one and then it would be over by morning. But this…

The way he’s casually sipping at his cup of pxir feels so jarring you can barely cope. Anything is better than trying to navigate the unknown. You start to wonder if he has even heard a word you’ve said. 

“You need to eat.” That deep voice has you perking up immediately. 

“I’m not very hungry.” Not with your stomach doing somersaults in anticipation. However, Neteyam’s mask splits for a moment to give a knowing look that reminds you exactly what happened the last time you tried to starve yourself. Taking the hint and not wanting to dig your hole even deeper you quickly reach for a piece of fruit and plop it into your mouth.

Apparently it is not enough since the male reaches over with one arm and swiftly lifts you up onto his lap. 

“I can-” Another look. “Fine.” You relent, letting the Olo’eyktan feed you piece after piece by hand. 

Feeling his warmth pressed against your back is strangely comforting. You blame it on forced acclimation. Regardless, the silence is torture and your mind has already done enough of that on it’s own, thinking up every possible outcome that awaits you. 

“Are you even mad at me?” You blurt out. Neteyam’s hand pauses from reaching up to your lips with another piece of fruit. “I mean, am I in trouble?” 

“You are.” When that piece of fruit fits past your lips the tips of his fingers linger on your tongue a tad too long. Neteyam’s braids brush over your shoulder, colorful beads clanking together. 

“Okay so then, can we talk about the consequences?” The last thing in the world you wish to discuss but perhaps it’s too late to negotiate getting off scot free. You may as well strive to lessen the repercussions. “Because I am sorry, Teyam. Truly-”

“I’ve already decided on your punishment.” Not a sliver of cold malice or dark intent in his nonchalant tone. 

“Alright,” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Can you perhaps enlighten me on what that will be?” It’s a struggle to keep your voice even and calm. Is he drawing this out on purpose? What is the point? Push you into a panic attack?

“After dinner you are going to apologize.” 

“But Neteyam I am so-”

“To Lo’ak.” 

You spot said person across the fire. He chats warmly with friends and family nearby but there is a bandage woven into his braid just barely noticeable. You have blunt human teeth. He is sure to heal within a day or two with little discomfort. 

“Is there any alternative?” Neteyam's face swings down into view and your script changes immediately. “Yes, apologizing...yeah that,”You clear your throat. “That sounds very reasonable.” 

 The rest of dinner is spent trying to conceal your sour disposition as Neteyam traces teasing circles along your legs and inner thighs. It’s a confusing set of sensations and emotions that ultimately have your heart rate racketing higher steadily. There are times where you wish dinner to never end and others where you are chomping at the bit to get things over with. 

The most disturbing, however, is that voice in that back of your head saying this has all been too simple. Apologizing to Lo’ak will be by far one of the most humiliating things Neteyam has ever made you do but surely he has more in store for you after that. The eldest Sully son is too elaborate and thorough to let you off the hook so easily. 

Whatever Neteyam has brewing for you after this apology is sure to be something that will allow very little sleep tonight. 

Neteyam waits until the last embers of the fire have burned out. He warmly bids several Na’vi goodnight and well wishes and even volunteers to help clear away the dinner supplies. Lo’ak is nowhere in sight, although you can’t remember at what point he had left the scene. Still kept under the Olo’eyktan’s watchful eye from a distance you endure yet another round of drawn out waiting. 

For a moment you are tempted to hope that Neteyam has forgotten all about the apology. Or perhaps Lo’ak has somehow become preoccupied and his absence will be your saving grace. 

That hope is foolish and fleeting. You know better than to assume short memories when it comes to the Sully men. So when Neteyam reaches his hand down and you sheepishly take it, you prepare yourself for the long road ahead. 

Village life is dying from a simmer into a low hum as families tuck away into their marui. Only a few stragglers are dotted along the forest that Neteyam leads you through. The path is not one that you recognize, however it slowly becomes clear that the two of you are heading away from the village. It leaves an eerie feeling in your bones. 

Neteyam has promised to never allow harm to come your way but…you bit his brother today. Would that be a sufficient reason for him to lose patience with you all together? And if so, what would disposing of you entail? Facing the tip of a Na’vi knife or being set free into that dangerous den that is Pandora? 

Subconsciously, you tuck against his side for comfort. 

This is paranoia speaking. The predictable culmination of your worries and anxious thoughts to form a spiral you can tumble down. Recognizing this does not slow down the beat of your heart but it does help your mind grab on to the tangible facts. 

Just one simple apology then you can take on the rest afterwards. 

Away from the bustle of the village and deep settling fires, you can only depend on eclipse’s glow for visual. Which is why you hear Lo’ak before you spot him. He sets rippling waves along the river to your right, his silhouette just barely visible in the dim glow as he emerges calmly. Squinting your eyes, you can see him lazily running a hand through his braids, pushing them away from his face. 

“You actually showed up.” He calls, although you can’t quite tell if he is talking to you or Neteyam. Long, leisurely strides take him back onto shore. Proximity allows your eyes to become snagged on the trails that drops of water create along his sculpted torso all the way down to his thighs. 

“Don’t patronize. Oeyӓ tiyawn [my love] is nervous.” Neteyam replies and immediately you look up at him in silent betrayal. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t bother to veer his gaze away from his brother, instead just absentmindedly running a hand through your hair in comfort. No, to stroke you like a true pet. 

Perhaps the nature of this punishment is more psychological than physical after all. Humiliation is sure to be a dutiful reminder to behave. 

It sure feels that way when Neteyam settles a hand on your upper back to gently push you forward with an encouraging, “Go on, pet.” 

Lo’ak, still squeezing the water from his braids, takes a seat on a nearby stump. Legs spread and brows raised, he waits expectantly. The idea of clawing his eyes out looks all the more appealing with every passing second. At least then you would find a reprieve from that sparkling look of sinister mischief. The way the corner of his lips twitch as if fighting back a smirk makes you feel that much more on display, and that much more ready to resort to violence. 

“Little gift.” Neteyam calls in reminder, a steel edge starting to lace his patient tone. 

Gritting your teeth, you avert your gaze away from the male in front of you in hopes of finally forcing the words out. 

“I’m sorry.” Spoken between your teeth, it’s barely comprehensible. You don’t need to look at Lo’ak to feel the amusement rippling from him. No doubt the bastard is happily enjoying your struggle. 

“Speak up, tiyawn.” Neteyam coaxes, although both of you know there is no need. Na’vi hearing is easily sharp enough to pick up on what you’ve said. 

“I am sorry.” You breathe out on an exhale. “I shouldn’t have bit you.” 

Squeezing your eyes shut your brace for the imminent teasing. He is bound to make some snarky comment or quipping tease but that doesn’t mean you have to look at him while he does so. 

“Hm, that’s alright, tawtute [human]. We all get a little wound up at times.” Although upon peeking one eye open that lazy grin is in place, there is no other retort tacked at the end. And for a moment it seems that Lo’ak is not even bothered by what has happened. That only makes you more uneasy. 

“That’s my good girl.” The sensual praise brushes your shoulders, quickly making you realize how close Neteyam now kneels behind you. “Now give him a kiss.” 

You screech out of Neteyam’s embrace, flipping around to face him at breakneck speed. “What? No!”

That patient mask is still in place, although Neteyam lets out a small sigh. Surely this is a joke, a mean one that you wouldn’t put above either of them playing. You wait for Lo’ak’s laugh. Wait for Neteyam’s possessive reassurance that your lips only touch his. 

Neither come. 

“Don’t be difficult.” 

Lo’ak’s earlier claim echoes in your head. The same one that had tipped you right over the edge into biting him. 

“Neteyam’s been known to share.”

“No! No way. Forget it! Spank me, fuck me do whatever you want but I am not kissing him.” Face now inflamed into a bright red, you point an accusing finger back at the younger brother. Lo’ak bites back a smile, leaning back against the tree. 

When you attempt to stomp off in a dramatic exit, Neteyam easily scoops you back into place with one arm. A firm grip on your hips keeps you facing him. 

“You have options, pet, but not many.” That velvety voice lowers into a rough timber you’ve grown accustomed to. Always the first sign that you are stepping into dangerous territory. “You can apologize properly or we can look into taking away some special privileges you’ve seemed to have taken for granted.” 

One hairless brow raises and suddenly you know exactly what privilege he speaks of. 

You inhale sharply. Your music box. That damn music box that you’ve become so attached to that even the thought of him putting it back at Bridgehead makes you hold back a whimper. You never should have let him to know how deeply you care for the thing. Better yet, you never should have allowed yourself to become so dependent on a single object. 

However, there is no changing that now. Caught between a rock and a hard place your features soften into a pout. 

“Teyam pl-”

“I’m not interested in negotiations. Take your pick.” Although stern, his composure doesn’t hold the same dark glint it does when you’ve truly pushed him too far. Neteyam kneels there firm, but patient. Even his tail curls and swings leisurely along your thigh. 

He knows how this is going to play out. He knows the leverage he holds so there is no point in wrestling you into submission. You’re going to do it on your own, pout and all. More than anything you want to prove him wrong. Lift your chin, tell him to do his worst and stomp home without another glance at Lo’ak. 

But you don’t.

Instead you shuffle to turn back around at the speed of a sulking child. Arms crossed and glare blazing, you finally face the other brother reluctantly. That large hand spans across your upper back to give you a small push forward. Not willing to go down without a fight, you keep that screwed expression in place even as Lo’ak’s attention burns through you. 

Even when he leans forward from his sprawled position to rest those alien hands across his upper thighs and close some of the distance between you. Even when his tail suddenly tickles at your upper thigh with a softness that almost has you stumbling backwards in surprise. 

You can feel it falter, however. That burning anger struggles to overpower your ever raising nerves. So when you are finally standing between Lo’ak’s spread legs you rush to get the deed done before those nerves get the best of you, showing your cards for both males to see. 

Lifting onto your toes, you leave a peck on his cheek so fast that neither of you can comprehend it before you are turning back towards Neteyam. Lo’ak’s barely stifled laughter is met by a dark chuckle of the Olo’eyktan’s own. Although, the elder Sully tries to keep his amusement to a minimum as he spins you to face back around again. 

“A real kiss, tiyawn.” 

“I did what you asked and-” a fierce grip catches your chin, before you are met with the Olo’eyktan’s stern expression invading your space. With lips just mere inches away from your own, Neteyam’s clutch may as well be a chokehold with the way it dissipates the air from your lungs. 

It is times like these that you remember who exactly is your captor. He infuses your time together with occasional softness but there is no forgetting the true predator that lies beneath. He is not just any warrior. Neteyam is Toruk Makto’s firstborn, Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. The same clan that had run off everyone you knew from this planet. When glimpses of that man come forward, your tough facade cripples beneath him. 

“Now now, let’s not scare her too much. You said she’s nervous after all.” Lo’ak breaks the tense moment with a casual drawl. For once, you're grateful for his teasing. Less grateful however at the feel of his four fingered hands coming to rest on your hips to turn you around, the softness of his touch creating an inferno of sensation rippling through your body. “Unlike you, I promise not to bite.” 

His lips curl into a crooked smirk as his tail playfully swishes behind him. The bastard is enjoying this far too much, but you’re not sure which brother is worse to face at this moment. Lo’ak’s cocky dose of humiliation or Neteyam’s dangerous threats of retribution. It feels as if neither will leave you the same you were before tonight. 

A third hand clamps around the back of your neck, veerring you forward. And this time, you don’t wait to be told twice. 

Your lips softly brush against Lo’ak’s own. A part of you wonders if your trembling has reverberated even to your lips where he can feel. Lo’ak, however, is surprisingly gentle and slow as he follows your tentative kiss. It’s not the usual possessive claiming that leaves your head spinning and thighs clamping together. Nor are your soft lips put under torment of nipping teeth that love to tease. 

No, it’s gentle. Almost intimate. 

Utterly terrifying. 

A rough push at his shoulders releases you from that kiss. Your chest siezes in efforts to slow your breathing down and not let either see your body’s betrayal at that tantalizing kiss. Regardless, you know it won’t matter. If your scent isn’t already ripe with your arousal, surely your rapid heartbeat is enough to give you away. 

Neteyam’s chest rumbles against your back in a deep chuckle, Lo’ak’s own eyes lit with mischief connecting with his brother’s over your head. 

“See? Nothing to be afraid of.” Lo’ak coos, but there is a huskiness to his voice that raises the hair at the back of your neck. And then the soft brush of his fingers on your hips becomes claws that dig into the plush flesh and drag you forward. 

A squeak can barely rip from your throat before your lips are back on his again. This time, all semblance of innocent affection is lost. Lo’ak’s lips enrapture your own into a kiss that can only be described as filthy when his quick tongue swipes past your bottom lip and devours you whole. 

If you were to be told earlier that your day with Lo’ak would end with his tongue in your mouth not only would you have not believed them but the idea of it would have been disgusting. Surely you would have imagined a scene that would liken him more to the sleazy drunk men that had made moves on you during late nights at Bridgehead. Just another horny male to try sticking his dick where it isn’t wanted. 

And God, do you wish that were reality.

Because a horny douchebag is so much easier to handle than the incarnation of sinful temptation that ropes around you now. So much easier than trying not to preen against the ministrations of a skilled mouth and plump lips. So much easier than resisting the urge to run the tip of your own tongue along those pointed canines. 

Lo’ak may have a big mouth, but it seems that all of his talk of pleasuring women comes from actual experience. He knows which button to press, knows the perfect combination of soft and rough touches to make a female drown in his embrace. 

And drown you do as another talented mouth trails along your spine, teasing you with the soft brush of his lips until your body is practically begging for the next laid kiss against your skin. It’s an attack from both sides. Trapped between two ravenous Sully men until you are unable to peek out from their shadows. 

Neteyam’s large hands skate over every inch of your exposed, trembling, body while Lo’ak remains dedicated in his task of stealing the very air from your lungs. It comes on all too fast. While Neteyam is the master of taking your heated emotions and slowly making them blossom into unriddled desire, it seems that both of them together have that shift acting at the speed of an exploding bomb rather than a nurtured flower. So alarming that it has your mind reeling in its pathetic attempts to keep up. 

There is no mercy to be found from these towering aliens.

Even at the few points where Lo’ak lets you gasp for air, the hand that had become tangled in your hair finally letting off on the pressure, it’s only in favor of lapping his tongue over your constricting throat. 

“No marks.” Neteyam’s growled reminder barely processes through your already hazy brain. Even less so Lo’ak’s perturbed hiss before your lips are captured once more.

Scrabbling for what’s left of reason is a practice you are accustomed to when beneath the Olo’eyktan, pussy split on his cock, but never from something as simple as a heated make out session. But simple it is not, when two predators nip kiss and suck at your body as if savoring their well hunted meal. 

A breeze brushes past your entrance. Lo’ak chuckles when you break the kiss to look down and find that his brother has already discarded your loincloth. Your ankles cross on instinct, a mistake when the younger Sully tugs you forward and that position only makes you fall against his chest. 

“Mawey [be calm], pet.” Neteyam soothes, running a hand over your head. 

“But-”

Your protest is cut off when the Olo’eyktan suddenly replaces Lo’ak’s hands at your hips and lifts you up until you are settled onto the other male’s lap. They work together to wrestle your legs over each side of Lo’ak’s thighs. Thighs that then part to keep you spread and bared for them. 

“That’s a good girl.” You can’t even muster the strength it takes to act offended at Lo’ak’s condescending praise. There is barely enough time to grip his shoulders for stability before he is devouring you again. 

This has been well planned, that you are for certain of because as Lo’ak consumes you in a feral kiss meant to leave your lips ruby red and attention completely taken, Neteyam makes quick work of unthreading your complicated top. They work together like a well oiled machine. 

The Olo’eyktan lets out an appreciative groan, ears perking atop his head. He gives no warning before he is twisting around you to reach your right breast with his teeth. It digs into the plump flesh just beneath your pointed nipple, leaving behind an indent that is sure to be unmistakable. Lo’ak laughs against your lips when you accidentally chomp down on his bottom lip.

This bite is far more welcomed. 

Your treacherous pussy is wet enough to leave sticky arousal marking your inner thighs. There is nothing but the night’s breeze to caress your erect clit and entrance that is already clenching around nothing. So when the familiar brush of rough fingerprints with scars made from a bow’s strings circles around your dripping petals, you give a knee jerk reaction. 

Lo’ak swallows your moan only to react with his own when you claw into his hair for stability. Unfortunately the first piece you find just happens to be that thick braid. And while you were mere seconds away from finally having your begging clit played with, it’s the bite of a sharp sting that your sensitive sex is met with instead. Neteyam sends three spanks straight to your raised clit until your thighs are flexing in an attempt to snap close, a task impossible with Lo’ak’s own legs keeping you spread. 

Neck complaining with the strain, your head is yanked back and fingers disconnect when you are met with hard golden eyes. Lo’ak is either unbothered or knows better than to disturb his brother when in this state because his busies himself teasing and plucking at your nipples. 

“Did I say you could do that?”

“N-no.”

One of Neteyam’s hairless brows curves upwards expectantly. 

“No, Olo’eyktan. I’m sorry.” You quickly correct, voice catching when Lo’ak takes your left nipple between his teeth. 

Unshed tears gather in your eyes and you’re sure that the display of both submission and wrecked expression is enough to show that you meant Lo’ak no harm. Or at the very least you were in no state to do any damage, despite your desire otherwise. 

However, that is not enough. Apparently nowhere near what Neteyam needs from you, evident in the way he yanks you back and crashes your lips together. The tuff of his tail tickles your inner thigh as it wraps around your leg. There is no hope of keeping up with the fervency of Neteyam’s lips, teeth and tongue as he infuses every animalistic instinct into that kiss. It’s as if something has possessed him. 

You’ve seen Neteyam loosen the reins of his control. You’ve seen desire come to shine forth in the lustful actions he has succumbed to before, but he has always been in control. Calm, even as he has split you open on his cock time and time again. 

But this. 

You’ve never seen him like this, an utter slave to his instincts. 

“Get her ready.” The sharp demand Neteyam bites is not slow enough to allow you a single breath before he is diving back in. Your neck aches and thighs tremble at the awkward angle, but suddenly that angle is changing. 

Lo’ak easily throws a leg over each shoulder, lifting your lower body to his face while Neteyam keeps your upper body supported with a hand to your spine. The coordination leaves you spit roasted between the two of them, body dangling over the ground like a ragdoll. 

Neteyam is deaf to your silent pleas of being let down even as your clawing nails reach back to bite into his shoulders. What little threat they are when your weak nails won’t even be able to break skin. Just as weak as your dull teeth to Lo’ak’s queue. Painful perhaps, but nothing close to permanent damage. 

And it dawns upon you then, the same moment that Lo’ak’s tongue swipes playfully at your clit until you spasm. This isn’t about Lo’ak being hurt. Perhaps it never has been. Neteyam knows just as well as you that there is no real damage you could impose upon him.

No, this is about what you touched. What your teeth had sunk into when meanwhile your fingers have hardly ever ventured to explore his own. 

Another male’s queue. 

The neural chord associated with sacred mating among the Na’vi and not only had you been caught touching another’s, but your teeth had sunk into it. 

Finally released from his lips to let out a screeching moan, you crane to get another look at Neteyam’s handsome features. Reading him tonight is easier than it ever has been. The sharp lines created from a clenching jaw and eyes made of golden steel confirm your theory without doubt. Tonight isn’t about your pleasure, even as Lo’ak’s tongue licks a broad stripe from your entrance to clit. It isn’t even about an apology. 

Tonight is about proving a point. 

You wish to get ahead of what is to come, plead your case now that you understand the core issue better, but when your lips part all that comes out is a wrecked whine. Lo’ak pushes that first digit past your weeping entrance until it hits the first knuckle, and then the second. It’s nothing compared to that stretch that you have now become accustomed to performing but that never seems to stop you from feeling that exquisite burn every time. A true shock to the system.

With features set into stone, Neteyam slowly lowers you down so that your upper back rests upon his propped knee. This puts your lower body up higher than your upper as Lo’ak slurps at prods at the sensitive flesh between your thighs. A provocative display that Neteyam takes in calmly. He doesn’t look down as you squirm and whine atop his knee, just places one firm hand down over your bare chest to pin you into place. His thumb, however, does find its usual place swiping over the soft ribbon tied into a bow around your throat. 

“Fuck, she’s so tight.” Lo’ak exhales, your juices shining over his lips like a pretty sparkle of lip gloss. You try not to let that image stick in your head. No male has the right to look that beautiful after such depraved actions, especially someone as annoying as Lo’ak. “This little pussy can barely take a second finger.”

It does, however. A mortifying squelch sound created from your dripping core as you suck the second digit in. 

“My little pet knows how to stretch.” Neteyam purrs, eyes still watching between your legs as his knuckles pet over your flushed cheek. 

You gasp when Lo’ak curls his fingers and instantly finds that special spongy spot inside. Wrenching up from where you lay across the Olo’eyktan’s knee, you fight to get air back into your lungs properly. 

“Stop squirming.” Neteyam’s demand is accented with a sharp slap to your inner thigh, a sensation that only has you writhing more. 

“Is this a little too much for you, tawtute?” Lo’ak coos in a fake pout. “A few Na’vi fingers in this tiny cunt and you can’t even hold still like a good girl.” Those plump lips spread with your arousal pout as he tutts in mocking disapproval at you. 

If there was any hope of Neteyam protecting you from his brother’s teasing it is cut short the second his own dark laughter joins the mix. A blush spreads down from your cheeks to the very swell of your breasts. That heat only intensifies when the Olo’eyktan’s fingers brush over the area in awe, reminding you of how exposed you truly are between them. Every little reaction is a display for their amusement. 

“Come now, pet. Show Lo’ak how well your little demon pussy can take it.” 

“Tey..I-I…Teyam!” Whatever plea you had hoped to construct morphs into a drawn out moan of his name once Lo’ak wedges a third finger into your tight entrance. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t hide his pleasure at hearing you moan his name. Meanwhile you happen to catch the hint of annoyance Lo’ak shows at his older brother’s name raining from your lips when it is his fingers bringing you such pleasure. 

“Having fun, tiyawn?” Neteyam’s lips spread into a sinful display, sharp white teeth shining under the moonlight. The pads of Lo’ak’s fingers sensually rub at your inner walls, sending a tremor up your legs. “Of course you are. This is the attention you were begging for after all, isn’t it?”

You shake your head with a whine. That, however, only earns a sharp flick to your right nipple. 

This had never been your intention. Piss off Lo’ak, finally give him a peace of your mind? Absolutely. But being strung between these two Omatikaya warriors to be used as their amusing little slut had not been your vision. 

And yet….there is nothing else that can fill your mind, your body lighting up at every humiliating comment and sensual show of power exerted towards you. 

Lo’ak wiggles his fingers into a steady scissor motion. That burn has a whimper choking in your throat but it’s Neteyam that has your attention. That handsome face floats above you, the moonlight creating a false hallo atop his neat braids. Wriggling beneath such an exquisite creature has never felt so intoxicating. 

“Open.” As if spoken like a magic spell, your mouth hangs slack immediately. It’s worth the look of approval that carves into those magnetic features before he is slipping a thumb across your tongue. He taps your cheek in warning when you try to close your lips once more. 

A bead of saliva coats his thumb as he presses down on that wet muscle. Then, performing once more in their perfectly coordinated dance, Lo’ak’s presses his own thumb against your pulsing clit. 

The sound that rips from your throat is debauched, utterly inhuman. With Neteyam pressing down on your tongue there is no way to stifle it, so your whine rings true and free through the air. 

“Fuck, so pretty.” Lo’ak groans and you can’t be sure if he refers to your spew of moans or rather the sight of your drenched pussy clamping around his digits. Drool now travels past the corner of your lips. Just barely on the cusp of an orgasm. One more little push needed that you have no way of asking for. 

Neteyam chuckles when your eyes shoot open suddenly. There is a fourth intrusion, a fourth finger you are not accustomed to receiving. Confusion ripples through your features followed by another wave of bliss as Lo’ak sinks in the last finger. 

Sky Demon blood. 

Not the surprise you had accounted for. 

There is just enough common sense left to remember you need to ask for permission to come. Neteyam shows no mercy, keeping his thumb pressing your mouth open as you try to form pleas for release. 

“Have you earned it?” Neteyam asks.

A trick question. The correct answer may very well be the one that denies you an orgasm but answering otherwise could bring consequences that are already stacking at an alarming rate. 

Tears welling in your eyes, you manage to shake your head softly. 

“Of course not.” Neteyam sighs. His tail tickles at the sensitive flesh of your right side. “You haven’t been a good pet for me today, have you?”

The question is not rhetorical; you are silently informed when his thumb gives a few taps against your tongue. Sheepishly you nod and give out a gurgled apology. 

“She seems sorry.” Lo’ak pipes up. “Aren’t you, little demon?” Your back arches when he curls all four fingers against your inner walls and pressing down on your clit with his thumb. It urges the appropriate response, however, apologies flowing freely. 

“I think she wants to be a good girl now.” He adds and Neteyam studies your features to see if his brother’s assessment is correct.

“Then a good girl she will be.” 

That appears to be the cue Lo’ak had been waiting for. Those long blue fingers curl and rut up into your poor cunt vigorously all while drawing fast circles on your little pearl. The orgasm that rips through your body is explosive. Your legs strain and shake. Your mouth parts on its own into a cry even once Neteyam has removed his thumb. 

That pace continues until you are begging to have your overstimulated pussy left alone. Your head is stuffed full of cotton. Body buzzing so intensely in that afterglow you don’t register when Lo’ak finally draws his fingers out or how you become manhandled into a new position. The first sensation to make sense is a sudden kiss Lo’ak places on your lips before pulling away. 

You think that perhaps your punishment is over, but the younger Sully is setting himself back on that stump, eyes trained upon you intently. 

Neteyam has you sat on his lap, legs spread to bracket his muscular thighs and back pressed against his chest. Thick gollops of your pleasure run down your inner thighs to fall atop what you now realize is the Olo’eyktan’s uncovered cock. That bulbous tip now sprouting a bead of precum just barely jerks to tap your clit. 

Lo’ak is now back a few feet from where you and Neteyam are intertwined but he may as well be pressing a magnifying glass against your skin with the way his attention zeroes in on you. His own loincloth remains on but his right hand palms at the obvious bulge there. 

“What’s wrong, pet? Feeling too shy for an audience?” 

“Y-yes.” You mumble, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“Hm, that’s too bad because I’m especially inclined to show you off tonight.” 

It is only the arm cinched around your waist that keeps you from being impaled on his impressive length. Your nails create half moons in Neteyam’s forearm where you grip. 

“Now,” His voice darkens. “I am going to breed this slutty hole.” He gives your dripping pussy one gentle pat with his fingertips. “Going to fill it with my seed until it is properly wrecked. Lo’ak is going to watch. And you, what are you going to do?”

“Be g-good.”

“Close, little gift.” The head of his cock presses firmly against your pulsing entrance until it slips past. “You are going to give him a good show. Let him see exactly whose cum your tawtute cunt yearns for.”

Something close to awe ripples in Lo’ak’s expression as you are lowered down on the Olo’eyktan’s massive length, inch by inch. You try not to picture the crude presentation you must exhibit for his eyes as your stretch to accommodate Neteyam’s familiar shape. 

“Y-yes Olo’eyktan.” The wet gushing sounds that your cum and arousal make once you are finally lowered to the base has your eyes cinching shut. You hate how addicting this sensation is. Hate even more how eager you are to reach another climax, even eager to feel the warmth of the male’s seed blossom within you. 

“And why is that?”

The question doesn’t quite make sense. Whatever string of thoughts you had started knitting together fall to shambles when he begins lifting and lowering you up and down is cock in a steady pattern. 

Thank God, Neteyam decides to not make you answer, because your attention is already caught by Lo’ak sliding a hand beneath his loincloth. 

“Because I’m in charge, little gift. You are mine to use. Mine to love. Mine to share.”

You can feel every ridge and curve of him carve along your gummy walls. Etching a reminder of who owns you so thoroughly with every stroke. 

Lo’ak’s member curves along his stomach. Bioluminescent stars freckle over the sensitive skin. They disappear and reappear periodically from beneath his fist that grips and slides around his cock. 

“I decide who touches you. I decide who watches you.” Neteyam’s hips roll up just as you are dropped down to the base again. “And that means I also decide who you touch.”

Lo’ak’s teeth flash in a grin when he notices your intense gaze on him. It wipes away quickly when he interrupts himself with a rough groan and throws his head back in ecstasy. 

“Do you understand, pet?”

You’re not sure where your burst of confidence comes from. Perhaps it stems from Lo’ak whose hips buck up into his hands as spurt after spurt of his orgasm spray. Maybe it’s the deep roll of Neteyam’s hips that becomes frantic the more you squeeze around him. The idea that both brothers are about to find their peaks at the mere sight and feel of you is exhilarating. 

So instead of answering his question verbally, you instead shakily reach back to grab the Olo’eyktan’s kuru. Neteyam’s back goes ramrod straight, his thrusts becoming shallow. Then before you can change your mind, you swing the braid over your shoulder and push back the hair to properly examine those dancing tendrils. 

Neteyam’s head falls against your hair, voice dropping into the most sexy husk of breathing you have ever heard. And that’s all the encouragement you need before lowering the tendrils to wrap around your right pointed nipple. 

Pointed electricity spikes through every sensation. A zap of such pure bliss that it almost hurts. Neteyam counteracts this overstimulation with a deep moan and warm seed that bursts into your core just as you're spiraling over your own cliff. 

You don’t realize you’ve blacked out until voices slowly wobble into your consciousness. 

“Tie it back.” Neteyam instructs. It’s followed by a tickling sensation at your throat as the ribbon shifts. There is no energy left to spare on opening your eyes but you can feel cradling hands and hot water swimming around you. A hot springs then. 

“Perfect little thing,” comes Lo’ak’s voice next. 

And that is all you can decipher before blissful sleep enraptures you once more. 

Hope you enjoyed! Interaction means the world to me so please comment, reblog, or send me an ask with your thoughts<3

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I feel terrible for Spider

I get that a lot of people don't like Spider as a character, but when looking through his backstory, his childhood has been straight up fucking awful. And what better way to showcase this than to do one of my favorite things: playing psychoanalyst. Miles Socorro was born on Pandora in 2154, likely a few months before the Battle for the Tree of Souls. Growing up, he resented his father, and his mother, Paz, was killed in the final battle who he feels the closest kind of connection too, even though he never got to know her. Back in Hell's Gate when he was growing up, he wasn't close to his foster parents, Nash McCosker and Mary, and really only returned to them to eat, sleep, or when the Sullys didn't want him around. He grew up his entire life immersed in Na'vi culture, so much so that he feels like he's more Na'vi than he is human, even going so far as to paint blue stripes on his skin, style his hair in Na'vi dreadlocks, and wear a Na'vi loincloth to feel more like one of them. He's fluent in their language, knows the customs of the Omatikaya, learned to live as they do, hunt as they do, and survive as they do. In a way, he's a mirror image of Jake with the key difference being that Spider doesn't have an avatar to put his consciousness into. All the while, Neytiri treats him like shit his entire childhood, berating him, keeping him away from family gatherings, and even trying to forbid him from seeing Kiri when he was growing up. Jake stands up for him from time to time and is somewhat accepting as Jake knows exactly what Spider is going through, but even then, Jake literally refers to Spider as a stray cat. Not as the person Lo'ak and Kiri are the closest to and view as a sibling but likening him to a stray animal. Neytiri has valid trauma, but that does not excuse her actions. Her actions border on actual emotional and psychological abuse, and then when slashing him with her knife and then holding him at knifepoint and threatening to kill him as leverage, it crosses the line into physical abuse. Her pain gives her no right to treat a literal child the way she has. A child is not responsible for the sins of the father, and he didn't ask to be born human, hell, he didn't even ask to be born, period.

Now, it's obvious that he looked up to Jake and Neytiri in some way before everything, maybe not parental, be he obviously had a deep respect for them. They were the parents of the people he saw as siblings, and it's obvious that even back then, he was looking for any sort of parental affection. From when he was an infant to when he is 16, he never had anything really resembling that in a way that truly mattered, which is likely another reason why he hung out with the Sully family as much as he did, and likely hoping for anything resembling that. So, when Quaritch comes back, and says that he cares, even if Quaritch was just doing it to manipulate Spider, is it any wonder he started forming a bond with the man, especially over the months he was in captivity? He's been cut out of any parental affection for really his entire life, and here comes a Na'vi clone of his biological father who appears to be offering that to him. Combine that with the possibility of some form of Stockholm Syndrome, is it any wonder why he saved Quaritch as well? And then by the time Spider is fully adopted into the Sully family, he's 16 years old, two years away from being a full-grown man. The damage is already done. If he were a real person, he would be psychologically scarred beyond belief, and it wouldn't be surprising that a person like Spider would end up with behavioral issues, difficulties forming healthy relationships, boundary issues, self-esteem issues, and potentially substance abuse issues among a laundry list of others. This poor kid deserved and still deserves way better than what he's gotten, and it's likely that his treatment over the years, not having any kind of a stable childhood, growing up without a stable family, and so many more, likely damaged him for the rest of his life. I genuinely hope that he can find some kind of peace in the upcoming movies, because thus far, his entire life has been one gigantic trainwreck.

— 𝑨𝑽𝑨𝑻𝑨𝑹 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

✮ 𝙟𝙖𝙠𝙚

— [oneshots]

. . . coming soon!

— [drabbles]

gimme sugar, lover

↳ neytiri's his first love, but you're his forever...he swears.

✮ 𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙮𝙖𝙢

— [oneshots]

the hearts that bind us | 7.6k

↳ in which you, a quiet healer in the tribe, have the biggest crush on the upcoming leader. sometimes you think the feelings could be mutual. until one night in the glowing forest shatters that.

— [drabbles]

invisible threads | one ✦ two ✦ three

↳ a series of drabbles and deleted scenes from the hearts that bind us, presented in no specific order.

spirit sister

↳ the one where you suffer a great loss and neteyam’s there to ease the pain. 

my love

↳ the one where neteyam screws up and he notices the distance between you.

like blood despite water

↳ the one where you witness a tragedy and the sully's are there for you.

all mine

↳ the one where you and neteyam are a sure thing.

like a diamond under pressure

↳ the one where you're breaking and neteyam picks up the pieces.

warm hands

↳ the one where neteyam is shackled by appearances, but you couldn’t care less.

by the grace [make no mistake]

↳ the one where neteyam is too blinded by duty to realize what he has right in front of him.

by the grace [make no mistake] ii

↳ the one where neteyam is dangerously close the losing; but maybe you two are meant to be.

✮ 𝙡𝙤'𝙖𝙠

— [oneshots]

in full bloom | 10.2k

↳ in which 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.

— [drabbles]

everything is blue | part one ✦ part two

↳ the one where lo'ak misunderstands your friendship with his older brother.

one of us is dead

↳ the one where lo'ak makes a grave mistake.

yellow

↳ the one where you and lo'ak are too stupid to be in love.

under the moonlight, we kindle

↳ the one where you and lo'ak are words apart, but not a thing can come between you.

wilting flowers

↳ the one where you can't help but want lo'ak even though he's in love with someone else.

✮ 𝙠𝙞𝙧𝙞

— [oneshots]

. . . coming soon!

— [drabbles]

. . . coming soon!

✮ 𝙖𝙤'𝙣𝙪𝙣𝙜

— [oneshots]

pull of the tides | 7.1k

↳ you are a warrior of very few words, yet oftentimes your gaze betrays you. this widens the rift between you and the eldest sully, but will seeking refuge with the metkayina soothe the burn? especially when the alleviation comes in the form of a certain ocean boy? 

— [drabbles]

bashful creatures

↳ the one where you’re shy and ao’nung’s got a crush.

i wanna be yours

↳ the one where you're madly in love but ao'nung doesn't want a thing to do with you.

✮ 𝙩𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙮𝙖

— [oneshots]

. . . coming soon!

— [drabbles]

. . . coming soon!

✮ 𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙭𝙤

— [oneshots]

. . . coming soon!

— [drabbles]

. . . coming soon!

neng © 2023

Love, Eventually. [1]

Lo‘ak x female human reader

Words: 40.5k (oops)

Summary: You swore you’d never fall, but he knew you would. Eventually.

Warnings: explicit smut, friends with benefits, angst, hurt and comfort, rejection of feelings, Dom/sub, spanking, biting, oral, deep throating, punishment, dirty talk, praise, handcuffs, bondage, size difference, fluff, p in v, squirting, mentions of blood and injuries, insecurities, slight dub-con (it’s just a kiss), rejection, love confession, mentions of past trauma and toxic relationships, begging, kinda slow burn but not really, no aftercare, smoking

Notes: Oh my god! This is my longest fic ever and I can’t believe it’s finally done. I’ve been working on this since october last year. 😩 Unfortunately tumblr is a bitch when it comes to bigger posts so I had to split this fic into two parts. I‘ll be posting the second part in a few days so let me know if I should tag you or if you want to be permanently added to my taglist. Enjoy!! 🩵

Nothing made Lo’ak as nostalgic as the acrid smoke of a fresh new pack of malboro lights.

He remembers his first cigarette, the first drag of smoke into his innocent lungs at the ripe age of fourteen. The burning sensation in his throat that sent him into a coughing fit and the humiliating laugh of a fifteen year old Spider who had stolen the pack from Max a week prior. He remembers the anticipation and excitement of feeling like a grownup, of being able to get a glimpse of what life on earth was for boys his age. Of what his father used to be like, back then, on that star so far away he could barely see it in a clear nights sky.

He‘s not exactly a smoker now. Just does it from time to time, when he feels like it. It helps him relax. Focus.

Lo‘ak takes another drag of his cigarette and the smoke fills his lungs, giving him a slight buzz as the fumes travel through his system. He sighs in contentment, leaning back in the small reclining chair where he sits. Thighs spread and tail swaying low to the ground, he relaxes further into the cushion of the chair as he watches his favorite little demon writhe on the bed. The one, he loves more than life itself.

Lo’ak has always been extremely good at making knots. Another thing that makes him nostalgic. In his teenage years, the ones he spent with the people at sea, he was often praised for this specific skill. One, that only matured in adulthood.

Examining his work, Lo‘ak couldn’t help but let his tongue glide over his bottom lip, before he inhaled the smoke of his cigarette once again.

You were laying on your back, skin flushed with red hot embarrassment and knees pulled to your chest, baring your soaked cunt to him. If he looked closely, he could even see the pathetic little twitches of your neglected clit, begging for his attention. Begging to continue where he had left off earlier. The same thick, corded rope he normally used to tie fishing nets was now wrapped under your knees and tied to the bed frame. Your arms were pulled above your head, wrists bound and tied next to the knot on your ankles that were also secured on the head of your bed.

His cock pulsed at the sight.

You give a soft sound of protest as you try and wiggle against the restraints, drawing his eyes to the fresh bite marks he had inflicted on the area where the back of your supple thighs met your ass.

He may have gone a little overboard with them this time…

Lo’ak could count six marks in an angry looking shade of red and faint hues of blue and purple where he had bit and sucked until your skin was raw and sensitive and mentally scolded himself for losing control. But his mind twisted as he thought of your smart-mouth comment from earlier.

"Let me help you, tanhì," he had said, moving quickly to take those heavy supply boxes from your hands.

Neteyam regularly had ressources and weapons that were taken from the RDA all over the omatikaya’s territory as well as the neighboring allied clans coming in to stay stocked on supplies. But since you were the one unlucky human responsible to keep track of all medical supplies and hand them out in equal measurements, you were the only person receiving these shipments.

Boxes upon boxes of heavy material were stacked neatly in the front of the doors to the big laboratory in high camp, taking up most of the space. Lo‘ak knew you couldn’t move them all inside on your own without exhausting yourself, and he wished nothing more than to lighten your load.

Unfortunately for him, you shot him your signature scowl. Your brows were drawn together, and your eyes pierced through him like daggers.

"I can handle this myself," you bit back and pulled away from him, lumbering to the med bay.

Lo’ak only shrugged with a knowing grin, following closely behind, ready to help when your legs began to wobble under the weight of the boxes you carried in. One wrong move as you leaned too far to the left, and Lo’ak was quick to grab them before they tumbled to the ground.

The curses that fell from your pretty soft lips, were enough to make his grin widen. Although enough for you to make your curses turn more violent and your voice come out in an even angrier tone.

And that’s the thing about you.

Great Mother, you and Lo’ak might as well be two sides of the same coin. Where you were careful, he was reckless. Where you thought things through, he acted on impulse. Where you were rational and realistic, Lo‘ak was more laid-back and unconcerned.

Lo’ak was desperate for attention, always seeking approval in places he would never find it. And you? You had no interest in feeding into that. You were stubborn, headstrong, unwilling to be pulled into his orbit like so many others had been before you.

But you were also easy to provoke.

Not in the way others were— flustered and giggling, tripping over themselves to please him. No, you were fire. Sharp words and narrowed eyes, irritation curling in your voice even as you stayed. Even as you met him head-on, refusing to give an inch. That was the thing about you. You met his chaos with your own. Matched him blow for blow.

And Eywa, if that didn’t make him want to push you more. Because you were a challenge. Not an easy one, not even close. But oh, did he enjoy winning.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" You quipped, irritation seeping from every pore of your skin.

"Nothing of interest," he‘d said, stacking the boxes on your workbench.

When you gave him a dry laugh, cocking your hip and placing a hand on it, he was instantly drawn to the movement and his eyes trailed over the outline of your soft curves.

"Maybe if you’d spent more time worrying about supporting this clan like you should, instead of following me around, your brother wouldn't be so hell-bent on trying to handle everything himself and stack up on way too many supplies for all these worst case scenarios your paranoid dad has planted in his head!"

Lo’aks hands had flexed, blunt nails digging into the boxes.

You knew his family was a sore spot, yet you used these arguments loosely against him whenever you wanted it to hurt. You always tried to dig in, cutting to people's insecurities before they could do it to you. It was a coping mechanism Lo‘ak had picked up on immediately after meeting you, so he allowed you to use words of venom from time to time. You’re a human on a strange planet with aliens you‘ve never seen before. You’re just trying to protect yourself by building these walls and acting like a total bitch.

But that didn’t stop his anger at your blatant disregard for his feelings.

Lo’aks playful disposition had cracked then, his smile fading slowly as his instincts had taken over.

You mouth may be quick, but you, little human, were not.

When he turned to you, his movements were slow and precise, and once you saw the look on his face, your eyes widened and your spine straightened. Fresh prey, trapped in the stare of a hungry predator.

"Tanhì," he breathed, "What have I told you, hm?" Lo‘aks voice deepened as his eyes darkened. Panic flashed in your own, and he nearly groaned with satisfaction at that look in your face.

"To be mindful of others," you grumbled, wincing slightly when he turned his head tauntingly.

"And have you done that?"

"No." You gulped. "But—"

"Twenty seconds." Lo‘ak had cut you off, leaning against the table as he crossed his legs and peered down at you through narrowed eyes.

You blinked. "Lo‘ak, you—"

"Nineteen seconds." He counted, his hands gripping the table behind him so hard, it nearly bend the metal. Your eyes darted to his hands before you jumped into action, slinging your mask over your face and breaking out in a dead sprint. Throwing the door open you immediately scrambled away, ready to put as much distance between you and him as humanly possible. But your legs were short and your feet still clumsy on the soil Lo‘ak had been walking on since the day his legs allowed him to.

Pushing himself from the table, he continued to count down the seconds in his head. Once he‘d put the lights out and secured the door, he reached zero and began to stalk through the village with the purpose of finding his feisty little prey.

No. Six bites were far too kind.

The pathetic sound of muffled mumbling is what brings him out of his thoughts and he finally pushes himself up from the chair. With narrowed eyes you stare at him, seemingly nervous, and he grins sharply as he stalks over to where you lay.

Lo’ak takes another long drag from his cigarette, the smoke billowing around him as he admires you, before he pushes the embers into a makeshift ashtray on your bedside table.

"What’s wrong, hm?" He asks, cocking his head as he runs a finger over the soaked panties stuffed between your lips. "Mouth full?"

Your plump, sensitive lips are stretched taut over the fabric, reminding him of the way they look when they’re stretched around his ghirty cock. Those lips are so soft and sweet when they aren't spewing venom. Your tits are perfect too, fitting excellently into his palms, he thinks, running the pad of his thumb over a nipple. Your chest quivers and he trails his eyes down your waist, drawn to the curves of your soft thighs.

And great mother, your ass is just as fantastic, rounded, and plump and lovely to touch and grope and hold onto when he fucks you while standing. Great to spank too, when you really deserve it.

Overall, you’re simply breathtaking. But there’s nothing simple about you.

Your body could bring any man to his knees, but it isn't the only part of you Lo’ak wishes to possess. No, he needed all of you. Your smart mouth, your feisty attitude, your anger and also your fears. But most of all, Lo’ak wanted your heart. Your affections and your soul. He wanted your love, like his lungs needed air to breathe.

He knew he could take all your strife and worry away if you’d only let him. You would never have to live in fear again, because he would tear anyone limb from limb if they dared to threaten you. You would be safe and secure with him.

Lo’ak would give anything to have you in his arms, to hold you, to love you. He would give his very breath to see you wear a genuine smile that was all for him and him alone.

But you lived in torment, constantly on guard. You refused to let him in, only allowing him to please you as a form of release, but never allowing yourself to feel loved.

You were in control, constantly. And you never relented the power you had over your own choices, which could become tiresome. So, so tiresome. More than often, you would stress yourself out of fear of losing that control. But that was, where Lo‘ak came in.

When the both of you were playing, you were free to lose that control without worrying about not getting it back once you are done. Yet you refused to accept that Lo’ak would still allow you to make your own decisions, to keep this control over your life, even if he owned your heart.

Lo’ak would never take that fiery spirit from you. He loved it just as much as he loved you. Your strong will and determination to own yourself made you who you were and he cherished every bit of you. He would nurture your spirit in a way that could free you from the fears you continued to hold onto. But still, no matter how many times Lo’ak tried to convince you of this, you would not have him outside of your bedroom.

So, he must settle for the mere crumbs of attention you did allow him.

But he‘s tired. So unbearable tired of wanting you to want him just as he yearned for you...

A low beep sounds from your front door, signaling someone was just outside, waiting to be greeted, and that snaps him out of his musing. Your eyes immediately widen in panic and you desperately try to pull against the restraints.

"We aren't done playing yet," Lo‘ak chuckles, cupping your cheek tenderly, before he leans in closer to you. "And if you don't want whoever’s on the other side of that door to know you‘re currently tied up and waiting for me to give you an orgasm like an obedient little pet waiting for a treat, I suggest you stay silent," he says lowly, lips grazing your ear. You shiver from head to toe at that, but give him a quick and desperate nod.

"Good girl," Lo’ak coos, giving you a quick kiss on your heated cheek before heading into the main room of your living quarters. He purposefully leaves your bedroom door open, giving him an enticing view of your bottom.

Through the small peephole on the door, that’s too low for Lo’ak to use while standing upright, he sees Kiri waiting impatiently, her hands on her hips as she taps a foot on the ground.

"What’s up, sis?" He speaks through the closed door.

Kiri looks down and squints at the peephole from the other side, quirking a brow. "Lo‘ak? Where's y/n?"

"She's currently... a little tied up," he smirks as he catches sight of you squirming on the bed, your head lifting to shoot him a fervent look. "I can take a message."

Kiris eyes narrow, but she sighs, not catching onto his joke. "Just tell her to come by the healers tent later. There’s a problem with some of the medical supplies we got from the tipani clan and I need her to look over the bookkeeping to check the expiration dates."

"Will do," he says, before his sister takes her leave.

When Lo‘ak stalks back into the bedroom, his mask slips back into place as he towers over your much smaller frame.

"That was a close one, tanhì, but you did such a good job. I think you deserve a reward."

The sparkle of hope in your eyes makes him smile. He knows exactly what you would ask for, so he climbs onto the bed and situates himself between your thighs. "I'm going to remove the gag, but only for you to tell me what your reward should be. Do I make myself clear?"

Your eyes are glazed over with lust, but you’re still coherent enough to nod.

Lo’ak makes a show of slowly pulling the panties from your mouth and marveling at the trail of saliva that connects the lace to your lips. Before you can manage to voice your needs, he leans down and smashes his lips to yours, collecting your taste from them. You open your mouth immediately, tongue begging for more and he’d be stupid to not take advantage, tangling your tongues and drinking your salvia mixed with the sweet tang of your arousal that had leaked from your panties.

You’re powerless against him, still tied up and so easily giving in as you melt into the bed and his all consuming kiss.

When Lo’ak pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, you are both panting and heaving for air. "You taste so fucking good," he manages to get out. "Now tell me, how should I reward you?"

Your breath fans over his spit slicked lips, heat soaking into his skin. So close to you, your scent, fresh linen and wildflowers surround him instantly and Lo’ak greedily drink it in. Your arousal is still heavy in the air, mixing with your natural aroma and making his mind haze over.

You’ve been begging for this, with tears in your eyes you’ve been begging for this earlier, before he‘d tied you up and gagged you with your own underwear. And after hours of playing with your oversensitive body like an instrument he was far too talented in, he finally allowed you a way of release.

"Fuck me," you breathe, voice low and sweet.

"I don't think I heard you, tanhì," he taunts, gripping your cheeks in his hand as he forces you to look at him. Your eyes widen, allowing him to see just how blown your irises are. "If you want it, I need to hear it."

"Fuck me, please!" You say desperately, voice much louder and almost demanding. "Make me cum, please Lo‘ak!"

He grins, "That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

The glare you give him is an angry but familiar one, but you remain unaware of the fact that Lo‘ak was now holding the tip of his cock just inches from your dripping wet entrance. While you had worked up your courage, he had freed himself and waited patiently for you to beg for it.

"You're so f—" He cuts you off mid-sentence when he slams his hips forward, fully impaling you on his length. He buries every inch of himself so deep inside of you, with your juices coating him as your walls squeeze around it, that his tip knocks against your cervix like an iron hammer.

You scream in pleasure, mouth hanging open and giving him full access to let his tongue play with your outstretched one as the wet, obscene sounds of his cock fucking your greedy little cunt fill your bedroom. Lo’ak sets a brutal pace, unable to control the urge to turn you into a whimpering mess.

"You begged for it, then come for me. Come around my cock." If he couldn’t have your heart, he would at least squeeze every ounce of submission from you. And right now, you were entirely at his mercy. Your legs shook as they were still held by the rope and you were unable to close your thighs shut around his waist. Not even, when his thumb bullied itself between your slippery folds and began to move in tight circles over your clit. As a result, you began to tighten around his cock like a vice, your eyes rolling back and moans turning into breathless screams.

"I said come."

Seconds later, he’s rewarded with your release. Your mouth gapes, your orgasm so intense you can't even hear how beautiful you sound as you come apart around him.

Just watching you is enough to spur his own release. Lo‘ak feels the familiar tingling at the base of his spine and then his hips stutter, losing rhythm as heat travels through him. A growl rips from him as his hands find your hips. He holds you to him, burying himself in you as he comes, flooding your insides, while looking into your eyes as possessive thoughts plague his mind.

You're mine.

Lo’ak was still inside you, basking in the feel of your warmth, wishing he could stay like this forever. That is, until your high is wearing off.

"Can you untie me?" You snip, wriggling your hips. It’s always the same.

With a sigh, he pulls away from the comfort of you body, missing you instantly but forcing himself to untie your restraints. If he could, he would keep you tied to the bed for many more hours. And he doesn’t even know how many of these hours he would spent just holding you, while the other half would be used to mold the shape of his cock into your tiny cunt.

Once you’re free, he allows you to sit up, but immediately takes your narrow wrists in his hands, massaging the red marks that were left on your soft skin from the tightness of the rope. He knows you’re sore, because you always are. And Lo‘ak has salve for this, but you quickly yank your hand away before he can even inspect the other one.

Stifling his irritation, he just frowns at you.

"Your breath stinks." You grumble, wiping your lips. "And did you have to bite me so much?"

"You say that, but I know you enjoy the smell of smoke on me," Lo’ak smirks, purposefully ignoring the comment on his bites as he watches your bottom when you raise from the bed and begin to clean yourself.

You deserved those bites, but his hands still itch with the need to care for you. Lo’ak refrains, knowing all too well you would just snap at him like a wounded animal. Like you always do.

"Sure." You say, and even though he can’t see your face as you pull your shirt back over your head, he can tell that you‘re rolling your eyes at him.

He just hums at this, leaning back on his elbows as he watches you move around. Your motions are so calculated and almost stiff.

You’re uncomfortable.

If only you would allow it, Lo’ak could easily help you. He could ease your anxiety, could make you feel safe and cared for.

"What are you doing?" You ask, shooting him an impatient look when you catch him staring.

"Admiring," he says, sitting up. "Why don't you come here and let me help your tense shoulders, tanhì?"

Great mother, he really wants to. This isn’t even about him touching you, although it would be a bonus for him. He‘s being so genuinely when he says he only wants to make you feel better. As much as he loves to play with you, as much as he loves to fuck you into submission, caring for you afterwards is as much part of the play for him as fucking you so roughly you’re barely able to sit down for weeks without feeling him.

When you squeeze the bridge of your nose, Lo‘ak already knows what’s about to come.

"You know I don't do aftercare, Lo." His ears pin back.

"I just want to help, y/n." This time, he can't help the irritation that rises in his voice. You narrow your eyes and fuck, he can feel a fight brewing.

"I don't need your help." You spit and the fire that’s now flickering in your eyes is a flame he’s often burned himself with before. Unfortunately, fire is the one thing you won’t grow immune to, no matter how many times you’ve burned yourself before. It will hurt, time and time again.

"You may not need it, but that doesn't mean you can't have it." Lo’ak protests, rising from the bed and reaching for your hand, but you pull away as if his touch was acid on your skin.

"Don't start, Lo‘ak. Not tonight," you say with an annoyed sigh, turning your back to him.

It takes everything inside him to not demand your attention, to command that you look at him and only him. He wants so badly to reach out and just hold you, it drives him insane.

"Why are you so afraid of my lo—" You cut him off with an offending finger, inches from his face as you whip around. Lo‘ak blinks at it, and if the situation were different he would’ve laughed at the sight of such a tiny human trying to make herself look mean and scary.

"Don't you fucking say it." You warn.

With a gentle, desperate hand, he encases your wrist. Electricity flows where his skin touches yours, and for a short moment your anger falters, and he can see the flash of uncertainty and longing on your face.

"You know I love you," he whispers, praying to the great mother that this time, it gets through to you, that you can see the look of devotion and adoration in his eyes and for once in your life try and trust someone, let those walls crumble and him to take their place. "No matter how many times you push me away, I still love you, tanhì. Get that through your thick skull."

Your features soften, and he almosts weeps with joy that he might have chipped away at your hardened exterior. But then you blink and your guard shoots right back up as you frown at his hand. Without much effort, because he’s not holding very tightly, you rip free of his hand and rub your wrist.

"Get out." You command, never meeting his eyes.

"Tanhì, baby, please..." Lo‘ak sighs, begging, but your frown only deepens.

"And stop calling me that!"

— ✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩ —

"Isn't the meaning of being friends with benefits that we are supposed to be friends?"

Lo’ak was laying with his bare back across a wooden table, legs dangling and tail thrashing wildly as his frustration grew. Some of the clay pots and glass containers behind him clinked together when his tail accidentally brushed them.

"Hey, careful!" Kiri fusses, his sister glaring at him from where she stocked supplies for her patients.

Lo‘ak sits up at this, running a hand down his face as he groaned, "you‘re not even paying attention!"

He knew she wasn’t in the right state of mind to do so, something about missing supplies was plaguing her mind. But as his sister and one of the few only people he would trust enough to openly talk about his problems, Lo‘ak expected her to pay at least enough attention to give him some advice on this. He couldn’t expect the same from his human brother Spider, who may act like he was spoon fed all the knowledge there was about woman, but hasn’t had a proper date with one in years. He wouldn’t be much of a help with this either.

Slamming one of the boxes closed before moving to open another one, Kiri mumbled absentmindedly, "I didn't even realize you and y/n were..."

"Fucking." Lo‘ak finished for her, smirking proudly.

Her face contorts in displeasure at the filthy sky people word and Spider laughs, correcting him for the sake of his sisters sanity: "Sleeping together."

Throwing his hands up in frustration Lo‘ak whines, "She won’t even share her bed with me! It’s always this one and done bullshit and she kicks me out before I can do as much as hold her hand!"

He can hear his sister absently muttering to herself as if trying to avoid listening to this topic of conversation all together.

Spider chuckles. "That’s not what she meant, bro."

"I know what she meant. But fucking is fucking," he shakes his head and shrugs. Switching back and forth between the sky people’s tongue and his own would give him whiplash one day. "There is nothing gentle about what we do to each other anyways." He whispered the last part, more to himself than to whoever was willing to listen.

With a sigh, Lo’ak remembers a few nights ago, when he had rutted into you on your kitchen floor. He’d pushed your knees until they nearly touched the ground beside your head and you were folded in half for him, entirely at his mercy as he pounded into you from behind. He could still hear your delicious screams of pleasure and his surprise at your flexibility.

Or that day when you had purposefully misbehaved, just for him to bend you over his knee. But instead of what he knew you were already expecting, he didn’t spank you. No. Instead, he used two of his favorite human inventions, the one that wiggled and vibrated and were hidden in the far back of your nightstand, and shoved them into both of your greedy little holes until you were drained of all orgasms your body was able to handle in one sitting.

But once you were done playing, you promptly asked him to leave. Definitely fucking, not sleeping together.

No tender touches, no sweet words, and you wouldn't even allow him to clean you. It was torture!

Just thinking back to this makes his hand flex and he fights these urges that race through him. You don’t want his attention, don’t want him to take care of you. You only want his cock.

And the thought enrages him.

Growing up to learn what a mate has to do for his other half made Lo‘ak feel like he was failing you now. As a man, as a simple friend, as a possible mate. Even as a friend with certain benefits. He was a failure.

His anger was not directed at you, but at himself. He must not be trying hard enough, he thought. Maybe there was something he was missing.

When Lo‘ak had agreed to this, he‘d told you it would only take a month before you would be begging for him to become your mate. It has now been six months, and not only did his small crush on you worsen to an extent that was nearly killing him, but you also acted as if he was merely something to shove in your perfectly tight and wet cunt and not the male fated to be your mate.

"Gross." Kiris voice from the other side of the tent shakes him out of his thoughts.

"Maybe she doesn't want a boyfriend?" Spider casually chimes in, stretching his limbs before he moves over to one of the crates Kiri has put aside. Before he can rummage through the contents and mess everything up, his sister swats his hands away and frowns at him. She then turns to Lo‘ak and says, "Spider could be right. If you couldn’t already tell, y/n's extremely independent and loves having control over basically everything. There's nothing wrong with that, but I don’t think a boyfriend is something she would want right now."

"I don’t want to be her boyfriend. I want to be her mate!" Lo’ak stresses. "I‘m trying to court her!"

Kiri looks up at him from where she hunches over a box full of gauze. "Lo’ak," she sighs, hanging her head in defeat. "You're not hearing me. Y/n just isn't ready to be mated."

Lo’ak’s tail flicks in frustration as he lets out a sharp exhale. "That doesn’t make sense. She likes me— I know she does!" His ears lower slightly as he glances away.

Kiri gives him a pointed look. "Lo’ak, liking you and wanting to be your mate are two different things. It’s… it is complicated, okay?"

Just as the words have left her mouth, Kiri stops completely, her hands hovering over the crate, and she stares at the contents with a sudden, newfound interest. Raising a brow in suspicion, Lo’ak pushes off of the table, walking over to her. "You know something."

She glances up at him before pulling something from the crate. "It’s not my story to tell."

"Tell me!" He commands, feeling his irritation rise.

Shooting him a scowl, his sister raises to stand with her arms folded over her chest. "Ask her yourself, Lo‘ak. I‘m not getting any more involved in this mess than I already am. You two need to talk."

"That’s the point," Lo’ak groans as he throws his hands up in frustration, "she won’t talk to me unless it‘s about sex!"

"Eywa help me," Kiri hisses, the look in her eyes all fire. "Y/N is fucking scared! Why can't you see that? You follow her around like some…", she gestures, failing to find the word she’s looking for, then turns to the human behind her. "What are they called again?"

"A dog," Spider coughs to hide his laugh.

"Yes! Like a dog without an owner, but you're focused on the wrong thing. You want her to be your mate but don't even know what shes been through. Try getting to know her first, then worry about living happily ever after."

"You don’t think I haven’t tried that?" Lo‘ak shouts. "I would give my next breath if she would just honor me with simple words about her day! I would revel in any bit of conversation she would allow me! But she doesn’t want to give me the slightest chance…"

Lo’ak clenches his jaw. He already knew you were guarded, that you preferred to handle things on your own. But this? This was something else. He runs a hand down his face before crossing his arms. "If it’s stopping her from being with me, then I need to know, Kiri. Please."

Sighing, she gives him a tired look. "No, you want to know. And that’s different."

Lo’ak exhales sharply. He hates this, being kept in the dark, feeling like there’s some invisible wall between you and him that he doesn’t understand. "So what? I’m just supposed to back off?"

"Do you think getting her deepest secrets from her closest friend is the best way to win her heart?" His sister asks, her lips a tight line. "That's a surefire way for her to lose what little trust she has in the both of us, and you know it."

Kiri has him because she is right. If he were to use her to dig up your secrets, it would ruin any chances you two might have. Kiri would lose her as a friend, and he would lose the future he imagined you having one day, along with what little attention you gave him now. And he wasn’t willing to lose even a moment with you.

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"I've already told you too much, brother. You should figure this out on your own."

"Please," he begs. "You don't have to tell me what she hides, but I want to understand. I want her heart, but only when she’s ready. Until then, I want to help her. I want her to know I’m here for her in any way possible. If I have to continue being a friend, I’ll gladly be until she feels comfortable enough. Please, Kiri, help me."

Kiri considers for a moment, but she looks unsure. If he must grovel on his knees to her to get a response, he would. If only she would at least push him in the right direction…

Pinching the bridge of her nose as if debating whether she should even entertain this conversation any longer, Kiri groans— defeated. And eventually, she speaks, her tone softer now.

"Lo’ak," she starts, "have you ever considered just… asking her on a date?"

Lo’ak blinks. His mouth opens, then shuts, his brows furrowing as if she just spoke in another language. "A… date?"

"Yes, a date," Kiri repeats, giving him a pointed look. "She’s human, Lo’ak. She’s not used to our ways. You can’t just expect her to understand your feelings through gestures and words alone. She might not even realize what you’re trying to do." She pauses, tilting her head. "If you want her to see you as more than just a friend or," she clears her throat, "as someone only interested in getting into her pants, why not show her? Spend time with her. Do something special for her. And I don’t mean following her around and annoying her every waking hour of the day. I‘m talking about planning something that she will actually enjoy."

Lo’ak blinks, processing her words. His mind had been tangled up in trying to understand you, in worrying over what you might be hiding, that he hadn’t even considered something as straightforward as that. A date. A human concept.

His heart kicks up in his chest at the thought.

"That’s… so simple," he mutters, more to himself than anything.

In the back, Spider snorts a laugh.

"Yes, it is. But knowing you, you’ll find a way to make it complicated," his sister shakes her head.

Lo’ak glares at both of them but doesn’t take the bait. Instead, his mind is already racing. If he’s going to do this, he needs a plan. Something that’ll actually make you see him, not just as a friend, but as someone who wants to be by your side, who deserves to call himself your mate.

A slow grin spreads across his lips.

"Oh, I’ve got this," he says, more confident now. "I’ll figure something out."

"Just… don’t be an idiot about it."

"No promises," Lo’ak shoots back before turning on his heel, already scheming.

— ✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩ —

In the following days, Lo’ak found himself thinking of you more than ever.

Every quiet moment, every stretch of time where his mind wasn’t occupied, it circled back to you, your smile, your voice, the way your eyes flickered with fire whenever you so stubbornly challenged him.

It drove him insane sometimes, the way you stood your ground, refusing to back down even when it would be easier to just let things go. You were stubborn, oh, so stubborn, but Lo’ak admired that about you. It wasn’t the kind of stubbornness that came from pride or arrogance; it was deeper than that. It came from conviction, from a fire inside you that refused to be dimmed.

And Eywa help him, he liked it.

He liked the way you pushed him and made him feel things he wasn’t used to feeling. You weren’t afraid to call him out, to challenge his reckless nature with sharp words and even sharper looks. But at the same time, there was a softness in you too, a quiet kindness that surfaced in the way you cared for others, in the way you saw people. Saw him, but refused to acknowledge this.

For the na‘vi, some words could not be properly translated into the sky peoples tongue. Not just in words, but in meaning as well. A friend was a friend, but a lover was a mate. A girlfriend was a mate and a wife was mate. And you, you were his mate also. Lo‘ak had no doubt it that.

The idea of a date still felt strange to him. Unfamiliar. There was no proper translation for this either, but it was the first time he had a real, tangible way to show you how he felt, to make you understand, and he wasn’t about to let that chance slip away.

The village was humming with life in the early morning light. Fires smolder from the night before, sending thin wisps of smoke curling into the air. Hunters were sharpening their weapons, children darting between the woven huts, and the scent of roasted meat filled Lo’ak’s nose as he walked through the bustling pathways. As your mate, he’d have to make sure to bring you some of it later.

The big laboratory of the humans was just ahead, not far from the healers tent, where you were usually occupied with work, switching between both places by the hour as you were needed in both.

Approaching the tsahìks tent first, Lo’ak noticed the heavy crates waiting just outside. Tsekire, the head warrior of the Txampay’itan clan that usually supplied the omatikaya clan with raided medical equipment and medicine in exchange for food and weapons, was nowhere in sight, so he must be inside, he thought.

Pulling the woven flaps of the tent aside and stepping inside, the familiar scent of herbs and oils filled his senses, along with the sound of a heated argument.

Right away, he could tell something wasn’t right.

Two na’vi women and one of the scientists were already sticking close to the entrance, looking ready to bolt as an angry Txampay’itan male stood in front of you, his shoulders tense and his towering frame almost completely swallowing your much smaller one.

This wasn’t the usual warrior that delivered to the village once every other week, yet not an unfamiliar one. This was Ra‘lu. He was a rude sort with an infamous attitude that almost gotten him banned from entering the village countless of times, long before you and the handful of other humans had even joined the omatikaya.

"I've already told you—" You begin, only to be cut off by the male's snarl.

"I don't care what you’ve told me, human," his voice rises. This word coming from him sounded almost like an insult and all the present na‘vi flinch. "This is the amount of supplies you will get. If you want the rest, then your olo’eyktan should stack up our delivery of weapons."

"You three, leave," Lo’ak commands the people cowering from the interaction. No one refuses him as they push past and exit the tent quickly.

"If you interrupt me again, you big blue asshole, I'll glue your lips shut!" With your hands on your hips, your gaze cuts deep as you stare the male down. Na‘vi rolls so easily from your tongue, he doesn’t even realize how foreign you look when you spit his language at others like that. It makes him proud.

You seem so focused, you don’t even notice that Lo’ak stalks behind the man, tail flicking around like a whip.

"Is there a problem here?" He asks, tone ominous, his ears pinned back. The male turns, his eyes widening as he gazes up at Lo‘ak. Behind him you huff out a breath, crossing your arms over your chest.

Lo’ak catches the way your breasts push together at the gesture, sweat pearling right there between them, but he manages to pull his focus back to the man before him.

Later, he thought. I‘ll pay special attention to them later.

"I forgot this clan allows your kind," the warrior spits, his eyes trailing over him in disgust. "Half breed," he mumbles, scrunching his nose as if the words taste like acid on his tongue. Lo’ak hoped they do. While he was able to ignore his quip, his words seem to catch your attention. Your head whips back to the male, the look in your eyes murderous.

"His kind?" Your tone takes on a hard edge. "Oh, you're a real piece of shit, huh?" Your anger on his behalf is humbling. Lo‘ak enjoys seeing your pinched brows and tense shoulders as you defend him, and warmth spreads through his chest. His smirk grows the more you puff out your chest and yell at the na‘vi twice your size. You’re such a fierce little thing.

The male opens his mouth to no doubt spit more insults, but this time at you, which Lo‘ak doesn’t allow him. He steps around the warrior and between you and him, shielding you as he stands chest-to-chest with him. Ra‘lu straightens up, giving Lo’ak a challenging look, who doesn’t even flinch away when takes a step closer, their chests nearly touching.

"Why defend her?" He asks, voice low as he tips his chin in your direction. "This isn't your battle."

"When you threaten my mate, it is my battle." Lo‘ak glares. "Take another step, and I will be thrilled to tear you limb from limb. An alliance less won’t hurt our clan. You’re the ones benefiting from us."

This makes him pause. The tension in the air thickens, and for a moment, everything seems to hold still. Lo’ak’s eyes, narrowed with a fiery intensity, lock onto the male with unwavering resolve. His fists clench at his sides, the muscles in his arms visibly tensing.

Then he glances over his shoulder at you, "What's the problem, tanhì?" Lo’ak smiles ever so sweetly at you, who are still narrowing your eyes at Ra‘lu.

"He didn't deliver the supplies we traded for."

"What is missing?" He asks.

"Two crates of medicine, paracetamol, bandages. I can give you the list," you answer, pulling the expense log from your pocket. Lo’ak takes the log and confirms what you had just told him. His eyes shift to Ra‘lu.

"Do you know how hard it is to get these things!? I risk my life every week—" He attempts to make excuses, but doesn't get to finish when Lo’ak grabs him by his kuru and pulls him closer to his face.

"And we risk our lives to provide for your clan as well. I don't give a fuck if the RDA pulls your innards clean from your body, you are paid by our clan to deliver whatever my mate orders. If your people can’t provide, that’s a conversation you should’ve had with our olo’eyktan, not sneaked around behind his back. I highly doubt Tsekire knows what you’re trying here, and if he finds out his best man tried to play his best ally, he won’t be too pleased."

Ra‘lu gulps.

"And if this will be a recurring issue, we can squash it now." Lo’aks voice drops to an intimidating tone as he stares the man down. "There is a jungle just below this village, but it takes a while to get there. It’s a long, very long fall down. Do you want to find out how long?"

The males eyes widen in fear and Lo’ak gives him a wicked grin, reveling in his look of regret.

A small hand on his bicep draws his attention away from the shaking man that dares to call himself a warrior.

When he turns, you still sneer at him. "Let him go, Lo‘ak. He's not worth the trouble."

You cock your hip as you glance up at Lo‘ak, daring him to protest when he opens his mouth, then closes it again when he decides against it.

Immediately, he releases Ra‘lu, who rights himself and brushes back his hair, glaring at Lo‘ak. But he barely notices any of it, too focused on trying to keep his boner down, which dares to break free from his slit at your bossiness. Great mother, you’re the only one he'll ever allow to speak to himself like that. And it gets him fucking going.

"Bring the crates in, then get out of my tent," you wave dismissively at the male before disappearing to the back of the giant tent where patients normally lay behind a privacy curtain.

Ra‘lu grumbles under his breath as he lumbers out the entrance. Lo’ak follows behind him, just to be sure. "Be thankful my mate is merciful. I expect the other two crates to be delivered within the week."

"She seems like more trouble than she's worth," he huffs. "A pleasure whore has more merit than this pathetic human."

Lo’ak’s fists are already tight by his sides, his body coiled with an instinctive fury that he can barely contain. So when Ra‘lu turns, his words still lingering in the air like poison, Lo’ak doesn’t hesitate. His fist connects with the man’s jaw in a brutal snap, sending him stumbling backwards and crashing into the crates with a grunt of pain.

His eyes widen in shock as he falls to the ground, his hands instinctively reaching for his face. Blood begins to trickle from his split lip, and Lo’ak’s glare only sharpens, the heat of his anger not yet abated.

"Speak of her like that again, and I’ll make sure you won’t be able to speak ever again."

Ra‘lu, eyes wide with fear, nods quickly, his hands shaking as he wipes the blood from his lip. Lo’ak doesn’t take his eyes off him until he’s certain the message is understood, then he stacks the crates on top of each other and carries them inside on his own.

— ✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩ —

"Stop staring. It’s creeping me out."

You glance up at him momentarily, your cheeks getting that adorable red hue before you quickly look away. Your whole focus is put on the bandage that you are wrapping around Lo‘aks bloody knuckles. Not that he needed them.

Most of the blood on his hands wasn’t even his own. And he could definitely handle a few more punches without medical treatment, but since you insisted and Lo‘ak didn’t want to cause a scene with you yelling at him for beating up Ra‘lu, he happily agreed to follow you to the back of the healers tent.

"And earlier?" Your jarring tone sends him crashing back to reality. "I didn't need your help. I had the situation handled."

Sure. You may think you didn’t, but that doesn't mean you didn’t secretly like his attention. He was no fool, even if you thought of him like that.

Lo’ak’s jaw tightens at your words, his chest still simmering with the adrenaline of the confrontation. He doesn’t respond immediately, but his eyes narrow, sensing the sharpness in your tone. He knows you’re not one to easily back down, and he respects that about you, even if it’s something that constantly pushes him to the edge.

"I saw that you were handling it," he replies, his voice softer now, though there’s an undeniable tension in the way he speaks. "But I couldn’t just stand there while someone disrespects you like that."

Despite your tough exterior, Lo’ak knows you appreciate the protection, even if you’d never ask or thank for it.

"And what if he would have hurt you? Ra‘lu has a short temper and you’ve heard about the way he speaks of humans. He can’t even stand me for being a dreamwalkers son." He chuckles, waving his four-fingered hand in front of your face to get his point across.

"He's an asshole." You roll your eyes at him, "But don’t act like he would’ve killed me or something. I can handle a man with a sour mood, it’s not like there was a wild thanator in my tent."

"Why are you defending him?" He asks, unable to mask his irritation at your words. How many times did he have to tell you that you shouldn’t take these things too lightly?

"I'm not defending him," you say as you roughly secure the bandage around his palm and shove his hand back to him before he could even try to touch you, like you knew he would. "I just don't need a protector."

Lo‘ak sighs, "Tanhì, I've already explained this to you. My instincts—"

Your loud scoff cuts him off.

"If your instincts told you to jump off a bridge, would you?" You ask, your big eyes piercing into him like daggers.

Lo‘ak smiles, "if it meant protecting you, then yes."

You groan, the sound harsh and defeated. Your patience wears thin with him and his smile fades a little, his ears flattening as he watches you stuff away your supplies. The scissor you used to cut his bandage flies into a metal bowl on the floor, clicking together with various other dirty metal items. He knows these will go to the labs at the end of each day to be cleaned. Then you stand up and move over to one of the shelves.

"Why are you even here?" You then ask.

On cue, Lo’ak stands taller, making himself look less like a degenerate and more like a respectable male worthy of mating with the woman before him. "I have come to ask you on a date."

You stop, your hands hovering over the crate you were just about to rummage through. When you glance at him through your lashes, your face is tight. "Are you serious right now?"

"Extremely," he smirks proudly. "I want to take you out on a dinner, like humans do."

Suddenly, you saunter over to him, a hand in the air as if to reach out to him. Lo’ak feels his heart rate pick up at the prospect of you getting close or touching him again. You have touched many times in the last few months (many, many times), but he‘s addicted and he can't get enough of you. Even the simplest touch can send a shiver down his spine, igniting something deep within him.

His breath catches and Lo’ak swallows hard, watching the way your eyes lock onto his, filled with something he can’t quite name but desperately wants to claim. His hands itch to reach for you first, to pull you closer, to feel your warmth against him.

When you stand before him, your floral scent washes over him, and Lo‘ak must contain a groan of pleasure. Filthy images of you on your knees with his cock stuffed in your beautiful mouth or on your back with your legs spread wide flood his mind, but his fantasy is shattered a moment later when the cool backside of your hand touches his forehead.

"What are you doing?" He hides the strain in his voice as best as he can and relaxes at your sudden but very welcomed touch.

"Hmm, you're not running a fever," you flick his head with a blunt nail. "Just stupid."

And then you pull away from him, and Lo‘ak wants to whine like a child.

"How am I stupid?" He grumbles as he watches you retreat back to your work.

"You know I won’t go on a date with you," you sound so resolute as you plop down onto a woven mat, pull one of the crates to you and then turn your back to him. Lo’aks sight narrows on you, and suddenly a plan begins to brew.

Sometimes, a desperate male must do anything to win his mate's affection. Even, if the plan leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Desperation is a cruel thing, twisting his thoughts until he convinces himself that just one chance might be worth the risk.

His tail flicks in hesitation, ears flattening slightly. Blackmailing isn’t exactly honorable, but he was running out of options here. You won’t give him any time of your day, you’re always brushing him off or pushing him away and he’s tried everything there is to try— charm, compliments, affection, persistence, even outright challenges, but nothing has worked so far.

If you won’t agree willingly, maybe a little… persuasion is in order. Just one date. One chance to prove himself and you’d forgive him for that, eventually.

Sighing dramatically, Lo’ak walks around the healers tent as he runs his hands along the cluttered shelves.

"Such a shame," he shakes his head. "First, you ran off our clan’s medical supplier, and now you refuse to spend a pleasant evening with me."

With your eyes suddenly wide, you whip around. "What are you talking about? I didn't run him off."

"You did," he smiles innocently. "You started a fight over what? Two small missing crates that nobody really cares about? Hm. And now we might loose the important alliance between us and the Txampay’itan clan, just because you’re stubborn and couldn’t let this go. Everyone knows how i feel for you, so of course I had to step in to protect you, but in the end, this was basically your fault. What a shame, huh? What are we supposed to do now?" Faking a pout, Lo‘ak tilts his head to the side as he eyes your reaction.

You were frowning, looking more than just worried as you hastily began to explain yourself. "I— no, you know I was right and he tried to rip us off. Should I have just let him get away with that? Just for the sake of our alliance?"

He could see the gears turning in your head. Of course you did what was right and the olo’eyktan would never punish you for something as this. But you didn’t know that.

Standing abruptly, you throw your hands up in distress, "Oh my god! Neteyam is going to fucking kill me!"

Lo’ak resists the urge to smile. Was he shady? Definitely, but he must at least pretend to be the responsible one here. Even if watching you spiral was borderline entertaining.

Fighting the urge to lean back and smirk as his plan slowly began to work out, he crossed his arms instead. "Relax," he drawled, though he knew that word rarely had its intended effect. "You’re not dead yet."

You shoot him a glare, pacing in tight circles. "Yet? That’s not helping, Lo’ak!"

"Look," he continued, his voice steadier now, more serious.

If he played his cards right, he could finally have everything he had dreamed of since the moment he met this fascinating woman. All he wanted was a simple evening, just a nice dinner and a night of meaningful conversation. But beneath that, there was more at stake. Did he feel bad for deceiving you? Yes. But in his eyes, the ends justified the means. If he didn’t find a way to earn even a fraction more of your trust, you would both be trapped in this endless cycle, doomed to keep running in circles forever.

You had built walls around yourself, a safe haven where no one could reach you, but those walls were slowly becoming your prison. He feared that if you remained locked away for too long, they would consume you, leaving nothing but a hollow shell behind. And Lo’ak refused to let that happen. As your mate, he had a duty— to protect you not just from the outside world, but from your own fears as well. He needed to show you that you didn’t have to rely on these invisible barriers to keep yourself safe. With him, you were already safe. Always.

But you needed to start trusting him. Just a little. Just enough to let him in, to allow him to prove himself as a mate. He would wait as long as it took, fight as hard as necessary, but he couldn’t do this alone. Trust had to be given, not taken, and he needed you to take that step, even if it was small, even if you needed a little push in the right direction.

Lo’ak knew that words alone wouldn’t convince you. Promises meant nothing without action, and that’s what he intended to show you. He would be patient, he would be steady, and he would make sure you saw, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was the one for you. He wasn’t going to abandon you when things got hard, and he wasn’t going to let you disappear into the safety of solitude.

So for now, he’d start with something simple.

In front of him, you paced, looking about ready to cry or scream in frustration, as you’re mumbling and cursing under your breath. This time, he can’t help the grin from spreading across his face.

"There is a solution to your little problem." Your eyes light up at his words.

"Why didn't you start with that?"

"I am stupid, remember?" Lo‘ak chuckles, tapping his temple with a finger. You roll your eyes before crossing your arms over your beautiful, mouthwatering chest and give him an impatient look that makes his gaze draw away from your cleavage. "I can talk to Tsekire about how his best man has tried to fool you, get him to understand what has happened and why I lashed out on him. And perhaps I can get him to change Ra’lus delivery route so he won’t bother you ever again. Without informing my brother, of course. So what, if we’ll trade with them for one little extra crate the next time so we’re even? I’ll even deliver it to them myself and the olo’eyktan will be non the wiser. And you will still get your supplies without getting in trouble for anything."

You lift a brow, "You would do that for me?"

"Hmh. But there is a catch..." He trails off, allowing you to fill in the blanks yourself. When you groan and throw your head back in frustration, Lo‘ak still waits patiently for your answer, an innocent smile on his lips.

"You're only going to do this for me if I have dinner with you, don’t you?" You ask.

"Yes, a date." He smiles triumphantly.

You peek at him, eyes narrowed. "No. No, we aren't calling it that. It's just dinner between friends."

"Friends that fuck," his smile broadens and he winks at you. "It's almost like we‘re mated."

"You're pushing it," you warn. "Don't try anything romantic. We'll have dinner, but that's it. No sex tonight either."

"Are you sure about the last part?" Lo’ak steps closer, running a hand along the small of your back, teasing your hip with a caress as he circles you like a predator its prey.

"I can get you nice and full in more than one way," he lowers to whisper the words in your ear.

When he looks at you, your eyes have lost focus, and he can hear the change in your breathing. You may pretend like you don’t need him, but you want him just as much as he does you.

Then you blink quickly, fighting these dirty thoughts that Lo’ak could practically see behind your eyes, before stepping away from him.

"Oh, no, you don't," you shake your head. "You're not wining and dining me. It's just dinner, and then we go our separate ways and forget it happened."

Whatever that means, Lo‘ak shrugs.

For your satisfaction, he nods, albeit smirking, because tonight will not go anything like that.

"Sure, thanì. Just dinner."

You cross your arms, eyeing him warily.

Lo‘ak steps closer, his voice dropping into that infuriatingly smooth tone. Brushing a strand of stray hair behind your ear, he smiles gently at you, "we‘ll have fun. I promise."

"That's what I'm worried about…"

— ✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩ —

Nothing ever goes according to plan.

First, there was the career plan. You were supposed to land a solid job, something stable, something that didn’t involve waking up on an alien moon surrounded by creatures twice your size. But no, a “once-in-a-lifetime” job offer turned into a one-way ticket to Pandora, where you quickly realized you were working for the wrong side. And by the time you figured that out, it was too late to turn back.

Then came the no boyfriend plan. You had rules, strict ones. No attachments, no complications, definitely no falling for anyone. And yet, somehow, you found yourself tangled up in a friends-with-benefits situation with Lo‘ak. Lo‘ak, who was supposed to be just a distraction, just a way to let off steam. Lo‘ak, who, despite all odds, managed to sneak past every single one of your defenses with that damn golden retriever energy of his.

And now? Now, the no dating rule was crumbling, too.

Because here you were, standing in front of your full length mirror, carefully dragging a smudged line of kohl across your lower lash line.

Another plan, broken.

You weren’t supposed to care. You weren’t supposed to try. But the second you caught your reflection, hair a mess, dirt smudged on your cheek, you sighed and reached for the tiny collection of makeup you swore you wouldn’t use here. It was ridiculous, really. Lo‘ak had seen you covered in mud, drenched from the rain, bloodied after a fight. And yet you were dabbing a little color onto your lips, brushing out your hair, smoothing down your dress, like this was some real date.

It wasn’t. It was just dinner. Or whatever na‘vi equivalent he would come up with.

Still, you lingered in front of the mirror, tilting your head. It had been a long time since you let yourself do something as simple as get ready for someone. Longer still since you’d let yourself want to.

This was a bad idea.

The thought loops in your head as you get ready. Every part of you screams to lock the door and stay in your room until tomorrow, to pretend you forgot, to let this whole thing slip through the cracks like it never even happened.

Because this? This isn’t just dinner.

You’ve been down this road before. You’ve seen what happens when you let someone get too close, when you let yourself believe, even for a second, that there’s something safe, something lasting, in a world that’s anything but. Attachments get you hurt. They make you weak. They turn into expectations, into hope, and hope is a dangerous thing to have out here.

And Lo‘ak?

Lo‘ak is reckless. He’s stubborn. He pushes every single one of your buttons just for the fun of it. He doesn’t take anything seriously, and yet, somehow, he sees right through you. He gets under your skin, past your carefully constructed walls, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. It’s infuriating. And worse? You know he doesn’t even mean to. He’s just like that. Warm, persistent, impossible to ignore.

Which is exactly why this is so dangerous.

Because you’ve spent so long convincing yourself that you don’t need anyone, that you don’t want anyone. That you can’t afford to.

It would be so much easier if he wasn’t so… him. If he didn’t look at you like you were something worth knowing. If he didn’t make you feel like maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to let someone in.

But you know better. You know how this ends.

You clench your jaw, trying to swallow down the frustration rising in your chest.

Because the worst part, the part that makes you angry, is that Lo‘ak actually believes you’re his mate. Not just a thing, not just some temporary, fleeting connection like you’ve convinced yourself it is. No, he’s got it in his thick skull that you belong to him, that this is some grand, fated bond neither of you can escape. Like it’s inevitable. And he won’t let it go.

You’ve told him repeatedly that this isn’t real. That it’s just a mistake, that his instincts must be wrong and were misleading him. But every time you try to push him away, every time you try to put up a wall, he just looks at you with that same knowing, infuriating smirk, like he’s already won. Like he’s just waiting for you to admit what he already knows and it pisses you off. Because what if he’s right?

No. No. You shake the thought away before it can take root.

You are not his mate. You can’t be. You don’t get things like that. You don’t do things like that.

You’re not meant for this kind of connection, for belonging to someone, for trusting someone with every fragile, broken part of you. It’s too much. Too big. It would swallow you whole.

And Lo‘ak, with his relentless belief, his unwavering patience, his absolute certainty in you? He scares you more than anything else ever could.

You’re so lost in your thoughts, trapped in that endless cycle of denial and frustration, that you don’t even hear him come in. You don’t notice the soft rustle of movement, the familiar weight of his presence filling the space. Not until warm hands find your hips, fingers pressing lightly against your skin.

Your breath catches.

Your eyes snap to the mirror in front of you, and there he is, standing behind you, his gaze locked onto yours through the reflection.

You can feel the heat rising to your face as you stare at him. In moments like this, you realize just how freaking tall this guy actually is. He’s all broad shoulders and muscular frame that seems to fill up the entire space of the mirror.

A warrior, a hunter. An alien. You seem to forget about that part from time to time.

The difference in size is striking, the way his chest expands with each breath, his arms thick with muscle and the way his stature towers over you. His tail flicks, tickling the backside of your knee.

The contrast is so evident that it’s almost intimidating, how small you feel in comparison when he’s standing so close. The gap between your heights is noticeable, especially when he leans down and his body almost completely dwarfing you. The way his hands move, effortlessly commanding space, the power in his movements, it’s all so captivating, so him.

Even through the reflection, you feel the weight of his gaze. The size difference is impossible to ignore now, making you feel both fragile and electrified at once.

Lo‘ak tilts his head slightly, a slow smirk creeping across his lips. "You’re thinking too hard again, thanì."

Your fingers tighten as you ball them into fists, your pulse quickening despite every effort to keep it steady.

"Get out," you say, but it lacks the usual bite. You suddenly feel embarrassed. He shouldn’t see you like this, all dressed up and ready to go. Perhaps you would’ve changed before he actually got here, but he didn’t even gave you enough time. And now you’re in a dress and you wear make up and it’s so fucking silly, you feel stupid.

Lo‘ak only hums, leaning in just enough that you feel the warmth of his bare chest against your back, smell the scent of cigarettes on him that he must’ve smoked on his way here. "Mmm. Don’t think I will."

You grit your teeth, glaring at him through the glass. "You can’t just let yourself in whenever you want! Wait outside, I’m not done yet…"

Lo‘ak’s grip on your hips tightens, not enough to hold you there, but enough to make a point. "Sure I can." His voice is low, teasing, and your throat goes dry. "You look so beautiful, baby. Did you put this on for me?" His fingers dance along the hem of your dress, pulling it up to reveal more skin of your soft thighs and you’ve never cursed a piece of clothing more than in this very moment.

Lo‘ak knows you. Knows every hesitation, every excuse, every lie you tell yourself just to keep him at arm’s length. And yet, he never listens. Never backs off. Never lets you push him away the way you need to.

You tear your gaze away from the mirror, trying to shove his hands off you, but he doesn’t budge.

"Lo‘ak," you warn, voice uneven.

"Come on, tanhì," he leans down until his lips brush the shell of your ear, "I want to play before we leave."

He‘s insufferable.

You exhale sharply, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. Lo‘ak always knows exactly how to push your buttons, when to tease, when to press, when to make you forget everything else. Especially when it comes to your own morals. He has this very specific talent of throwing your own boundaries out of the window without you even noticing. And not just that. He makes you enjoy it.

"I told you, not tonight," you say, though your voice lacks conviction.

Lo‘ak hums, his breath warm against your skin. "That’s what you decided. I never said I agree to those terms."

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to be strong, but the way he’s looking at you, the way he’s touching you, makes your resolve waver.

"Lo‘ak," you try again, firmer this time.

His grin only widens. "Just a little bit, tanhì," he murmurs, the nickname rolling off his tongue like a plea.

And damn it, you know you’re about to give in.

Your breath hitches as Lo‘ak’s fingers trail down your arm. Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing, and the smug look in his eyes only proves it.

"Lo‘ak, h-hey," you warn again, but it comes out weaker this time, more like a whimper than a real protest.

He chuckles, the sound deep and satisfied. "That’s not a no," he points out, tilting his head. His forehead brushes against your shoulder, and for a moment, the world outside of him ceases to exist. "You know what to say if you want me to stop."

You hate how easily he gets under your skin. How one look, one touch, has you unraveling.

His lips press softly against the curve of your neck, and a shiver runs down your spine at the warmth and the intimacy of the gesture. It’s a slow, sensual touch, as though he’s savoring the feel of your skin beneath his lips. The contrast between the firm press of his chest against your back and the gentleness of his kiss makes your pulse race.

Making out with him is fun, it's always been fun. Lo‘ak is the kind of kisser who keeps it interesting, who's been with enough partners to know what he's doing. You think one day he'll make you come just from kissing, from running his lips along your skin, his tongue on your throat.

You instinctively lean into him, and you can feel his skin, hot and steady. The way his body envelops yours, his muscles shifting with every subtle movement, only emphasizes how much larger he is, how easily he could claim every inch of space around you. His hands squeeze your waist and you can’t help the whine that tumbles from your parted lips.

"Hey, what was that?" Lo’ak stops his assault on your neck to glance at you through the mirror. "You’re gonna make that sound again, hm?" Then his fingers start wandering, down your hips and past the hem of your dress. "Let me hear how much you want it, c‘mon. Stop hiding it."

His digits are rough and warm as they begin their exploration, gliding up the inside of your thighs until they’ve reached the cotton of your panties.

You swallow thickly. He‘s too good at this. At making you weak.

His fingers linger, teasing, tracing slow circles over the thin fabric. He watches your reaction, his other hand steadying your hip as if he already knows you’re struggling to stay still.

You feel yourself grow wet and it’s fucking embarrassing. He plays you like an instrument and suddenly you can’t move, can’t talk, can’t resist. Your breath catches as he presses just a little firmer, the friction making heat coil low in your stomach.

A soft chuckle rumbles from his chest, low and knowing. He can feel your reaction, the way your body responds to him without hesitation. His fingers press against the cotton until he feels the hood of your clit, teasing over the damp fabric, and your hip shifts instinctively toward his touch.

Heat blooms across your skin, a mix of desire and something dangerously close to surrender. You should say something, push back, regain control, but his touch leaves you dizzy.

His fingers slip just beneath the edge of your panties, before slowly pulling them down until they pool at your ankles.

Your body answers before your lips can reject him, arching into his touch when he cups your cunt, chasing the pleasure only he seems to know how to give. With his middle finger he parts your folds, runs it along your slit to circle your entrance before he pushes it inside to the last knuckle.

You choke out a moan at that.

His lips brush the shell of your ear and he whispers, "Good girl. So wet for me I can slide right in."

The praise is like a spark, sending a rush of warmth through you. You swallow hard, body aching for more, for him. Slowly, you surrender to him completely.

His finger curls and prods at your insides, feeling for that spongey spot that makes your knees buckle. He thrusts his digit in, then adds another. When he deems you ready, he slides them out and along your clit, giving the little nub a wet tap with his fingertips that makes you mewl like a cat in heat.

"Bend over, lift your dress for me," he then says.

That sudden shift from his usual soft and tender tone to this dominant side of him made your pulse race. It weren’t just his words, it was the way he said them, low and unwavering, like he already knew you’d obey. It’s what makes this so addicting, why you’re unable to stop whatever this was between you two.

The sudden shift is intoxicating. He knows exactly how to walk the line between sweet and dominant, pulling you in with every word. The authority in his voice leaves no room for hesitation, yet you can still hear the warmth beneath it, the promise that even in his control, you’ll always be safe.

"I- I took two hours getting ready, you can’t—"

Tilting his head, Lo‘ak catches your gaze in the mirror. With his eyes dark from lust and a challenging smile on his lips he says, "Talking back now, are we?"

Immediately, your spine straightens like a well trained soldier.

"No, sir," you quickly scramble to respond.

"Good," he smiles, kissing your cheek. "Then don’t be a brat and do what you’re told."

"But—" Your last attempt to speak up gets immediately cut off by Lo‘aks entirely hand pressing down over your mouth.

"Tanhì," he warns, "don’t make me gag you. You know how much I love hearing you moan for me."

You nod quickly, understanding. You won’t deny the fact that you’re usually a fan of the gag, but for some strange reason, you worry about it ruining your make up. You shouldn’t worry, you know it’s silly, but you do.

Lo‘ak, oblivious to your thoughts, watches you with dark amusement, his sharp canines flashing in the dim light. His fingers trail down your jaw, his touch deceptively gentle despite the warning he just gave.

With a hand cupping your jaw and the other holding the hem of your dress up in a tight fist, he pushes your legs apart. You hold yourself up with both hands against the wooden frame of your mirror and your back arched for him.

Lo‘ak makes a sound of appreciation at that. Your eyes lock in the mirror and he winks at you before you feel him remove his loincloth. He’s quick with it, almost desperate, before he plunges his entire length into you in one fluid thrust.

The sudden intrusion makes you gasp a loud moan, your eyes rolling back into your head as you feel every inch of him inside you all at once. No matter how many times you’ve done this with him, you’d never get used to his size. The way his tip always kisses your cervix on the first thrust feels more intimate than the whole act itself. And then when he moves and these soft, sensual kisses turn into harsh knocks, you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm and further away from reality.

Lo‘ak was thrusting into you with such intensity, you only managed to hold onto the shaking mirror as you moaned and took whatever he gave you. His pace made it urgent that this was just a quicke, but that didn’t mean you would get out of this without shaking legs and a sore pussy.

"So pretty, you look so fucking pretty baby," Lo’ak groaned. Rolling your head to one side, you kept your eyes glued to the reflection of him as he nuzzles his face there, hot pink tongue flicking out against your skin to leave dabs of warmth that trail from your neck, to your shoulder and then down your spine, where your soft round ass is pressed against his pubic bone in the most perfect way.

"No, look at you," he says as he notices your gaze boring into his, "look how pretty you are when I’m fucking you."

He makes another low, growling sort of noise and then fists his hands in your hair, making your scalp burn in the most pleasant way.

It makes you whimper and grit his name out. Lo’ak laughs, an almost mean sound that sends another shiver through your entire body.

Through the mirror, Lo’ak’s got a piercing stare that would make a grown man cower, and he looks right at you— hungry.

He plays with your body in a way no one else ever has, and no one else ever could. No one has ever brought you to where Lo‘ak takes you, his desperate need to please was taking you far past the edge every single time. And you were sure that even long after this was over, nobody would ever be able to get close to that feeling ever again.

His hands hold your body, fingers digging into your ribs as he thrusts harder and deeper. He was in pure animalistic mode. You try to stay upright as he attacks you ferociously from behind, fingernails scraping across the wooden frame of your mirror, your reflection shaking as he drives on.

Harder, faster, deeper; pushing you into a burst of white light.

"Come for me, sweet girl," he whispers through it all, his tongue hot against the shell of your ear. "Come on, we can’t miss our little date."

With a few more harsh thrusts, your world explodes into glorious colours and sounds, your head swirling into that dizziness you always crave. No-one else has ever made you blind with pleasure before. Only he knows how to get you there; and he never fails.

Your head flies back as you howl his name, walls contracting around his cock. You come with his name chanting over and over from your lips, bucking your ass back against him. You're flooding around him, and it’s running down your thighs as you cry out.

"There you go, there’s my good girl," he groans, and then follows you, moaning deep in his chest as he fills you with his seed. His pounding slows and ends in soft strokes as you ride out your orgasm, and it's pure bliss.

Once he softens and then finally pulls out of you, your knees nearly give out. If it weren’t for his arms around your middle, you would’ve sacked to the ground like a wet towel. Lo‘aks purr vibrates against your back, and it’s only then that you realize how close he’s holding you. That he’s holding you at all.

Immediately, you push his arms away from you.

Lo‘ak, being used to this, appears unfazed at your strange little antics. He just shrugs, a content smile on his lips from enjoying the very few seconds you’ve granted him to hold you, before he goes to pick up his loincloth.

You watch him, his upper thighs and abdomen still glistening in your arousal. When he catches your gaze, he chuckles, "you really soaked me this time."

Instantly, your cheeks lighten up like fire.

"Shut up," you rush out as you pull your panties back up and straighten down your dress and ruffled hair, "look at you— at us! We can’t go out like this!"

"Oh, come on, baby. You know I love wearing your scent on me." Lo’ak smirks, running a lazy hand through his disheveled braids before he ties them into a loose ponytail with the woven bracelet he usually wore around his upper arm.

"You’re disgusting," you mutter, shoving at his chest to get him out of the way. He doesn’t even budge, but steps aside so you can wipe yourself clean with a tissue.

"Hey, I’m not the one who came all over you."

His blunt words make you tense up. When you turn around you grab one of the pillows from your bed and throw it at him, hitting him square in the face. He barely flinches, just peels it off with a laugh, his grin only widening when you glare at him.

You grumble curses under your breath as you quickly fix yourself up while he lounges there like he owns the place, as if he didn’t just completely wreck you like five minutes ago.

Lo’ak stretches his arms behind his head, looking way too pleased with himself. "Relax. It’s getting dark outside in a minute. Besides, were we’re going, nobody will see us anyways. Trust me."

You cross your arms, still glaring. "Oh, trust you? Because that’s worked out so well for me tonight."

He smirks, stepping closer, completely unfazed. "Worked out pretty great a few minutes ago."

Your face heats up again, and you whip another pillow at him. This time, he catches it effortlessly, tossing it onto the bed with a chuckle. "Come on," he coaxes, tilting his head toward the door. "Live a little."

You hesitate, biting your lip. Every rational part of you is screaming that this is a terrible idea. But then there’s him, grinning like the troublemaker he is, eyes shining with excitement, the kind of energy that makes your pulse race.

With a sigh, you roll your eyes and shove him towards the door.

"Fine," you mutter, tossing your hair over your shoulder to secure your breathing mask over your face. "Let’s go then. But don’t expect me to enjoy this."

Lo’ak grins, catching your wrist just long enough to press a quick kiss to your knuckles before you snatch it away. "Wouldn’t have it any other way, baby."

— ✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩ —

"Lo’ak. You know how I feel about flying.”

Oh, he knew. But there was no way around it. The spot he’d picked for tonight, a hidden place high up in the hallelujah mountains, could only be reached by flying. And it was perfect. The perfect place for a date, just the two of you, away from the rest of world. The perfect spot to show you the side of his home he so loved, the kind of beauty only the sky could offer. Something he knew you would love to see. And the perfect place to get to know you better, with no way to avoid a conversation, to avoid him, like you used to all this time.

Lo’ak watches you closely, his heart tightening as you fiddled with the hem of your dress. He could see the subtle tremble in your fingers, the way your eyes darted nervously towards the edge of the cliff. It wasn’t that you were scared, he knew that. You’d flown before, once, with him, and even though you were never fully at ease, you always managed to put on a brave face. But he could tell that you had a healthy respect for his ikran, for the heights, for the rush that came with soaring through the air.

With a sigh, Lo‘ak stepped closer, his voice low and reassuring, "I know, tanhì. But I promise, it‘ll be worth it." He paused for a moment, his gaze serious. "And I’m not letting you back out now. I’ve got something planned for us, and there’s no way you‘ll be missing out on this."

You didn’t say anything, but the way you let him guide you onto his ikran when you normally wouldn’t even allow him to look in your direction spoke volumes. As he settled behind you, he felt the familiar warmth of your body against his. It was a feeling he’d always cherished, but now, with the excitement bubbling in his chest, it felt even more thrilling.

With one final glance toward the ground, Lo’ak gave a low whistle, and his ikran took off. You instinctively clung to him, hands gripping onto his forearm that was slung around your middle. He felt the tension in your body as you leaned back into him, and for a brief moment, he just held you, enjoying the way you fit against him.

The air up here was colder, making you shiver. It whipped around you, and Lo’ak could hear your breath quicken as he ascended higher into the sky, the landscape stretching out beneath you both.

"You’re doing great," Lo’ak called, his voice teasing but full of encouragement. And although he couldn’t see your face from this position, he could feel the way you rolled your eyes, which only made his smile widen.

Finally, he spotted the place he’d been aiming for. A small, flat area near a cliff. Gently, he urged his ikran downward, it’s wings fluttering lightly as they approached the rocky ledge. When they touched down, Lo’ak swung off effortlessly, landing on the ground with a soft thud. He turned, offering his hand to you, which you hesitantly took.

He could tell you weren’t exactly thrilled to be up here.

"Come," he said softly, his voice gentle as he squeezed your hand. "I swear, you’ll love it once you see it."

You reluctantly slide off the ikran, your legs unsteady as you stand on the rocky surface. The air up here is thin, but taking a glance at your mask, Lo’ak was certain you’d be fine. He could feel your discomfort, your resistance to the height and the open space. You always got tense like this when you were out of your element, but that only made him want to show you how incredible this place was even more.

He would get you to love this, eventually.

To love him.

He didn’t wait for you to protest further. With a hand on your lower back, he led you along a narrow trail that wound its way toward the edge of the cliff. The soil under his feet was still warm from soaking up the sun all day.

Lo‘ak felt your tension in every step. You kept your eyes on the ground and your breath shallow as you silently followed.

"Almost there," he promised, though he wasn’t sure if you were listening. He didn’t expect you to be, honestly.

When you finally reached the edge, Lo’ak stopped and, with his hands on your shoulders, turned you gently to face the view. The moment you looked up, the rush of the waterfall crashing down on the mountain beside you took your breath away. The sight was stunning. The water gleamed in the sunset, sending mist into the air that caught the light and created this bow of various colors. The landscape around you stretched for miles on end, and Lo’ak could see your shoulders relax ever so slightly as your eyes took it all in.

Below you, the forest began to light up anew in a bioluminescence glow.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lo‘ak glanced at you, watching the way your expression shifted from tension to awe. He couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" He murmured, not expecting you to admit it, but he could see it in your gaze as it lingered on the view. Even if you wouldn’t say it out loud, Lo’ak knew you were impressed. And how could you not?

For just a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the waterfall and the quiet between you two.

Lo‘ak didn’t speak for a while, content to simply observe you, his thoughts wandering. It wasn’t just the waterfall, not just the land, but the way you fit into it so effortlessly, so naturally. There was something about the way you stood there, your focus entirely on the world around you, that had him mesmerized. You belonged here, with him.

You didn’t turn to him right away, but he knew you felt his gaze on you. After a moment, Lo’ak leaned just a little closer to get your attention.

"There’s something else I’d like to show you," he said, his voice light but there was an undeniable pride in it.

He had been talking to Norm for hours before picking you up, soaking up all the details about what humans considered a perfect date, or rather a dinner, before he had settled on what the sky people called a picnic.

For the first time, Lo’ak, who didn’t consider himself a perfectionist, had taken extra care to gather everything he needed, from soft blankets to simple but thoughtful food that he had informed himself you would like.

All of it was now spread out carefully on the soft grass in front of you. The blanket, a woven fabric in deep forest green, was smoothed out with a precision that was rare for Lo’ak, its edges weighted down with small stones to keep it from shifting in the breeze.

At the center was a selection of food arranged with clear intent, though there was an endearing awkwardness to it, as if he had second-guessed himself a hundred times before settling on the final display. Neatly sliced fruits, pieces of dried meat, wrapped carefully in leaves, alongside a container of something that smelled faintly sweet.

He shifted beside you, his tail flicking with restless energy as he watched your expression, searching for any sign of approval. Though his face was composed, his ears twitched slightly, betraying his anticipation.

"It’s not… perfect, I know" he admits, rubbing at the back of his neck, "but I wanted to do it right, just like it is on earth."

Lo’ak watched you closely, his stomach twisting in knots as he tried to gauge your reaction. At first, you just stared, your expression unreadable, and for a split second, doubt crept in. Had he done too much? Or maybe not enough?

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his gaze steady, though his fingers twitched where they rested against his sides. He had spent so much time making sure everything was right, but now, as he watched you take it all in, he felt like a fool for worrying so much.

Then, just when he thought he might actually combust from the silence, you smiled.

It wasn’t a big, obvious grin. It was small, barely there at first, like you were trying to hold it back, but it softened your whole face. And just like that, the tightness in his chest loosened.

His ears perked up despite himself, tail flicking once before curling slightly behind him. He didn’t want to look too eager, didn’t want to give away how much that tiny smile meant, but the warmth spreading through him was undeniable.

Lo’ak exhaled a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding and when you lowered yourself onto the blanket, he followed suit, settling beside you.

And then it was… silent. Great mother help him.

Lo’ak drummed his fingers against his knee, searching for something to say. He knew he should play it cool, but his mind was suddenly blank, leaving him grasping at anything that might start a conversation. Now that he finally had the chance, this whole date thing was a lot harder than he had originally thought.

What was he about to say? Of all the things he wanted to know about you, what was he supposed to ask first?

He swallowed, trying to ignore the way his palms were suddenly clammy. Why was this so difficult? He could talk his way out of trouble, tease his siblings endlessly, even hold his own against his father’s stern lectures— but sitting here, trying to get you to open up? That was proving to be a challenge he hadn’t prepared for.

"So… uh," he started, then immediately regretted it when you raised a brow at him. He cleared his throat. "You, uh… like food?"

You stared at him. Blinking once. Twice.

"Do I like food?" You repeated, your tone flat with disbelief.

Lo’ak winced. "Okay, yeah, that was stupid. Let me try again." He took a breath, determined to recover, but all that came out was: "What’s, uh… what’s your favorite thing to eat?"

Your expression barely changed, but he caught the subtle way your jaw tensed, like you were trying not to let your irritation show. He was failing miserably, and he knew it.

"I don’t know, Lo’ak," you said dryly. "Food I don’t have to cook myself?"

He let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Right. That makes sense. Good answer."

You sighed, shifting on the blanket, clearly unimpressed. "So, you took me all this way up here just to ask me stuff like that all night?"

Lo’ak grimaced. "No, no, I swear, I can do better." He huffed, shaking his head at himself. "I just—" He hesitated, then shrugged. “I just wanna know you and… it’s harder than I thought."

That, at least, made you pause. Your irritation didn’t vanish completely, but something in your face softened, just a little.

"You already know me," you pointed out.

"Not really," he countered, tilting his head. "I mean, I know how you act. I know you pretend not to care about stuff even when you do. I know you get this little crease between your brows when you’re annoyed." He grinned as your brows immediately furrowed. "Like that."

You roll your eyes. "Great. So you’ve been observing me like some kind of freaky scientist. That’s not creepy at all."

Lo’ak laughed. "It’s not creepy! I just… notice things." He hesitated again, then added, more seriously, "But I wanna know more than that. Like, what makes you happy? What do you miss from home? What’s something you’ve never told anyone?"

That last question caught you off guard. Your posture stiffened, and for a moment, he thought you might shut him down completely. But instead, you exhaled slowly, gaze dropping to your hands in your lap.

"…I miss the ocean."

Lo’ak blinked, surprised. "The ocean?"

You nodded, tracing an absent-minded pattern against the fabric of your dress.

"Back on Earth, my family lived near the sea," you said softly. "Not a big city or anything, just this small town by the coast. I spent my whole childhood in the water, swimming, diving, just being in it." A small, almost wistful smile ghosted across your lips. "It felt endless back then. Like it would always be there."

Lo’ak listened intently, his ears angled toward you. He could hear the shift in your voice, how it was filled with something deeper than simple nostalgia. Sadness, perhaps. Or longing.

"But as things got worse, the ocean changed," you continued. "The water wasn’t… safe anymore. It got murky, polluted. Some days, it smelled so bad we couldn’t even go near it." You let out a quiet sigh. "By the time I was old enough to really understand what was happening, it was already too late. It wasn’t the ocean I grew up with anymore. And so was earth."

Lo’ak’s chest tightened. He had heard the stories, of course, how bad things had gotten on Earth, how the humans had destroyed their own home, killed their mother. But hearing it from you, seeing the way your face dimmed as you spoke, made it feel… different. More real.

"And now you’re here…," he said gently.

You nodded, your fingers stilling in your lap. "But I’ve never had the chance to visit the ocean. Of course I would end up stationed in the damn forest and not even close to the sea!" You groaned. "But between the war, the missions, the whole 'changing sides for the greater good' and everything else, I just never let myself think about it too much. Besides, it would be far too dangerous for me anyways. Hell, it’s not even safe for young na‘vi." You let out a distressed chuckle, as you point a finger at him. "Don’t think your sister hasn’t told me about you almost getting eaten by an akula a few years ago!"

Lo‘ak met your dramatic story telling with a smile. He’d never thought about talking to this memory about you, but just as much as he wanted you to open up; you deserved to know everything about him as well. Including all these not so pleasant moments in his life.

"You know," he then started, his voice lighter now, trying to lift the weight between you, "there’s a whole lot of ocean on Pandora."

You huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, I’ve noticed."

Lo’ak grinned. "So… what if we changed that?"

You gave him a questioning look. "Changed what?"

He leaned in slightly, his eyes glinting with something mischievous. "What if I took you?"

You blinked. "Took me where? What are we even talking about?"

"To the ocean, I mean. Where you can swim," he said, tilting his head as if the answer had been so obvious.

For a second, you just stared at him, like you weren’t sure if he was serious. Then, you laughed dryly, "You can’t do that, Lo."

"I’d do a lot of things for you, tanhì."

Once again, you rolled your eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it this time.

"Alright," you said ironically, shaking your head in disbelief. "Fine. Show me the ocean, Lo’ak."

— ✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩ —

The walk back from where Lo’aks ikran had landed to hells gate was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the wildlife surrounding you at all times. The night air was cool against your skin, and despite everything, you felt…

You hated to admit it, but the night hadn’t been awful. In fact, it had been nice. Lo’ak had been annoying, sure, but also thoughtful in a way you hadn’t expected. He had tried. And damn it, that should not be as sweet as it was.

And that alone was a problem. You weren’t supposed to feel this way. This was supposed to be just a fun night. As friends. That was all.

You repeated it like a prayer, willing yourself to believe it, because the alternative was too dangerous. Letting him in meant handing him the power to hurt you, to see the parts of yourself that you had spent years hiding. It meant exposing every weakness, every insecurity, every deep, unspoken fear that had kept you locked in your own solitude for so long. And Lo’ak… Lo’ak was the kind of person who could ruin you without even trying.

He was too easy to like. Too warm, too persistent, too good. And that was exactly the problem. People like him didn’t stay with people like you. People like him, full of light and effortless charm, with families who loved them and friends who fought for them, didn’t belong with people who had spent their whole lives convincing themselves they were fine on their own.

Because what if he saw you, really saw you, and decided you weren’t worth it?

That quiet, insidious thought had been buried in you for as long as you could remember. The fear that no matter what you did, no matter how strong you became, you would never be enough for someone to choose you. Not permanently. Not in the way that mattered. So you made sure to never give anyone the chance. You learned how to push people away before they had the opportunity to leave. You built walls so high that no one would ever be able to climb them. It was safer that way. If you never let anyone close, they could never hurt you.

And Lo’ak, damn him, was climbing those walls like they weren’t even there.

You had tried to shake him off, tried to ignore the way he looked at you like you were something worth figuring out. He should’ve given up by now. Most people did. But he kept trying, kept pushing, kept showing up with that stupid, infuriating grin like he knew something you didn’t. And you hated him for it. Hated him for making you want things you had convinced yourself you didn’t need. Hated the way his presence made your world feel a little less heavy, the way his attention made you feel like maybe you weren’t as unlovable as you thought.

But that was exactly why you had to push him away.

Because if you let him get too close, if you let yourself believe for even a second that this, he, could be something real, it would only hurt more when he realized his mistake. And he would realize it. Maybe not now, maybe not even anytime soon, but eventually, the truth would hit him. He would see that you weren’t what he thought you were. That the version of you he liked, the one he kept trying to reach, was nothing more than a well-crafted illusion.

At the end of the day, you were just a human. Just another fragile, breakable body that didn’t belong in a world like his. You were small, weak in comparison, always struggling to keep up, always having to prove yourself. It didn’t matter how much you fought, how much you tried to stand your ground— Lo’ak would eventually see you for what you were.

Unremarkable. Temporary. Replaceable.

You weren’t like him. You weren’t Na’vi, weren’t woven into this world the way he was, no matter how much time you spent trying to adapt. No matter how well you spoke his language, no matter how hard you trained, no matter how much you wanted to carve out a space for yourself in Pandora’s untamed wilderness, you would never truly belong.

One day, he would realize that. One day, the effort wouldn’t be worth it anymore.

Because you weren’t meant to fit into his life. You weren’t like the Na’vi women he had grown up with, women who were stronger, more graceful, who understood him in a way you never truly could. He would find someone like that eventually. Someone who didn’t challenge him at every turn, who didn’t meet every soft moment with stubborn resistance, who didn’t push him away before he even had the chance to get too close.

Because that’s what you were best at, wasn’t it? Pushing people away.

Your walls weren’t just a defense mechanism, they were a warning. A way of making sure no one stayed long enough to see the mess beneath the surface. The sharp edges, the jagged insecurities, the parts of you that were too complicated, too much work. It was easier this way. If you were distant, if you were difficult, if you were annoying enough, then eventually, he’d grow tired of trying.

And you wanted that. Didn’t you? You needed him to give up.

So, no. It didn’t mean anything. You wouldn’t let it. Tonight would be the first and last time you let yourself slip.

You would make sure of it.

By morning, you would pretend this whole date thing never happened. You would treat him the exact same as you always did and hopefully, he would get the message.

Maybe this would be enough to satisfy him for a while. This moment, this stupid, fleeting conversation. Maybe he would take it as a victory and leave it at that, at least for now. Who knows, perhaps he would even give up and move on, find someone else to chase, someone who wanted to be caught.

As you reached the edge of hells gate where most, if not all of the humans of the resistance lived, Lo’ak suddenly slowed his steps, his tail flicking behind him like he was debating something.

You glanced at him, ready to say goodnight and end this before it could spiral into something you weren’t prepared for. But when you turned, he was already looking at you. Really looking at you.

"Thank’s for uh… for tonight," you said awkwardly, forcing a smile to your lips that Lo‘ak mirrored with a genuine one.

There was something in his expression, something intentional, and your heart stuttered in your chest before you even knew why.

Then he took a step closer. You froze.

Oh, no.

You knew that look. You’d seen that look before.

"Wha— What are you doing?" You narrowed your eyes at him. Before you knew it, Lo‘aks hand was wrapped around your wrist, keeping you from putting any more distance between you and him. His hold on you wasn’t tight and demanding, it was soft and tender, loose enough you could just snatch your hand back. If you wanted to.

"A proper date ends with a kiss, no?" He says with the tilt of his head, smiling down at you as he takes a step closer. "And you promised me a date."

"Lo‘ak," you warn him. Of what, you had no idea. Then his arm moved, pulling you in around your hip. The hand that had been holding your wrist was now cupping your jaw, his thumb tracing the frame of your mask.

You swallowed thickly. "I didn’t promise you anything! And t-this wasn’t a date."

Now it was Lo’aks turn to roll his eyes, albeit more playfully and less annoyed.

"You can safe word out of this," he reminded you, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I think you don’t even want to."

The hand sitting on the edge of your mask was slowly feeling its way down, until his thumb teased to wedge itself between the glass and your skin. Your eyes widened at that.

He was right, you could just use your safe word. You could make him stop. So why didn’t you?

"Hold your breath, thanì. Please. Just for a moment," Lo‘ak said, and mere seconds later, he was lifting it off your face despite the glare you shot at him.

Before you could respond, his lips brushed against yours in the lightest touch, a whisper of warmth. It was soft, almost too soft, like he was testing the waters, feeling your response. Your first instinct was to pull away, to resist, but the moment his kiss deepened, something inside you broke. You gave in, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, the kiss growing more urgent.

It was gentle, but it was everything. Each movement felt like it was pulling you into him, leaving you with no choice but to fall, to melt against him. The world seemed to stop, and for a moment, there was nothing but the two of you.

When he finally pulled back, his breath heavy and uneven, he touched his forehead to yours. Now, his eyes were searching yours, waiting.

"I love you," he whispered, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "I know you must be sick of hearing it, but I love you so much and I wanted you to know. I really enjoyed tonight and I hope we can repeat this."

Even though you’ve heard them so many times before, these three words suddenly hit you harder than you expected. And before you could even process the rest of what he’d said, your hands were already pulling your mask back on, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t know what to do with what had just happened, and the weight of it was too much for you to handle.

So without thinking, you spun around and ran.

— ✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩ —

In retrospect, you should have expected something like this to happen.

Because if there’s one consistent thing in your life, it’s that you’ve always been lucky.

Lucky, that you‘ve got out when so many others didn’t, that instead of ending up in a shallow grave or chained to a job you never wanted, you found yourself here, working in the medical bay at High Camp. Lucky that, against all odds, the Omatikaya accepted you. Not just as some outsider they had to tolerate, but as someone worth keeping, worth trusting. Lucky that, even in a place where you never truly expected to belong, you found friends, real ones, the kind who made you laugh and made you feel like you weren’t just some lingering remnant of a war you never wanted to fight. And, above all else, you were lucky that, somewhere along the way, you ended up tangled in Lo’ak’s sheets, in something easy and uncomplicated, something that never should have been anything more than fun.

But if there’s one thing you’ve learned from this by now, it’s the fact that every luck that has come to you in your life before has always had a way of turning itself on its head.

Like when you thought getting a job with the RDA was your big break, your ticket to something better, only to realize too late that you were working for the wrong people, that the hands you thought were building something good were really tearing something else apart. Like when you thought you could have something simple with Lo’ak, something purely physical, something that didn’t come with messy emotions or unspoken promises, only to realize that somewhere along the line, this thing between you had stopped being something casual and had started being something that scared the hell out of you.

And now you’re standing in the wreckage of your own so-called good fortune, because of course it wasn’t going to stay easy. Of course, he wasn’t going to just keep things light and meaningless forever. Of course, he had to go and fall in love with you, because that’s just how your luck works.

For some strange reason, it seems like you’re lucky this week too. Or at least, lucky in the way that always makes you suspicious. Because Lo’ak, who never knows when to leave well enough alone, who always has something to say, who never lets things sit unresolved for long, who can’t keep his hands off of you and hasn’t spent a day without annoying you since the day you met, hasn’t talked to you in days.

Not in passing, not by visiting the healers tent, not by stepping by your home, by bringing you food, not in any way he usually does and not in the way that means anything. And maybe, to anyone else, that would seem like a relief, like a sign that things were finally blowing over, that he got the message and finally allows things to settle back into place. But you know better. You know how your luck works.

Silence isn’t peace. Silence is the deep breath before the storm, the moment when the sky is too still, too quiet, before the wind picks up and everything goes to hell.

And because you know this, because you know yourself, you do the only thing you can do. You throw yourself into work, because work doesn’t look at you like it’s expecting something. Work doesn’t ask you what you’re thinking, doesn’t linger too close, doesn’t make your heart clench in that awful way when you remember what it was like when things were still simple.

So you keep busy. You spend longer hours in the medical bay of the labs or the healers tent, pouring yourself into tasks that don’t need this much attention but give your hands something to do. You reorganize supplies that don’t need reorganizing. You clean wounds, set broken bones, crush herbs into paste until your fingers are sore, and pretend like you don’t feel the absence of something pressing against your ribs.

Some days, working in the med bay is actually almost fun. In the med bay, there’s an endless supply of decent coffee, better music, and the kind of easy friendships between you and the other humans that makes the long hours bearable, inside jokes traded over sterilized instruments, playful arguments about whose turn it is to restock supplies and the occasional ridiculous bet that somehow always gets out of hand.

Other days in the healers tent involve warning horns blaring and the sharp, metallic scent of blood, the chaos of too many voices talking over each other, hands working fast to keep someone from bleeding out over a bullet wound while the reality of just how fragile life is presses down on you like a weight you can’t shake.

Most days however, work is steady enough that it almost feels easy. You spend your time treating minor injuries, cleaning scrapes, setting broken bones, and dealing with the everyday wear and tear of life in High Camp. You work alongside Kiri and the other healers, some Na’vi, some human, all of you moving around each other in a rhythm that’s become second nature. There are moments of quiet, of shared laughter, of Kiri rolling her eyes at something one of the warriors says as you patch them up, of the humans in the med bay arguing over who gets control of the music. You keep track of supplies, make lists of what’s running low, and sometimes, when it’s slow, you organize shelves just for something to do. 

Earlier, some poor kid even came in with an arrow wound from a training mishap with an angry mother dragging him in by the kuru.

Those are the days that pass in a blur of movement, where your hands ache from working and your brain barely has time to catch up before the next crisis lands in front of you. But you don’t mind. You like keeping busy. You need to keep busy.

Because when you’re busy, you don’t have time to think.

You don’t have time to notice that it’s been a week, an entire week, since you last saw Lo’ak. That in the time it took you to throw yourself into your work, he disappeared. That not once in the past seven days has he come sauntering in with some stupid excuse, flashing that cocky grin like he thinks he’s invincible, like he knows you’ll roll your eyes and patch him up anyway before he bends you over the next best surface. And then after, you have to forcefully shove him out of the tent because he won’t leave no matter how many times you tell him to.

But now, in the rare moments when you’re not drowning in work, it creeps in. That unbearable, gnawing absence. It starts as an itch in the back of your mind, something easy to ignore if you just keep moving. But then it settles, curling into your ribs, tightening around your chest until every breath feels just a little too shallow.

You tell yourself it’s better this way. That you should be relieved. That you don’t have to deal with his reckless bullshit, his cocky smirks, the way he always thinks he can waltz in and make a mess of your life just because he feels like it.

And yet, you catch yourself listening. For the sound of his voice, for the heavy, lazy footsteps that always seem to find their way to you. Your fingers twitch with the memory of patching him up, the familiar warmth of his skin under your touch, the way he always ran hot and made it your problem. You swear you can still hear his laugh, that low, teasing drawl when he says your name like he enjoys the way it feels in his mouth.

It pisses you off.

Because how dare he get under your skin like this? How dare he disappear and leave you stuck with the ghost of him, haunting you in ways you never asked for? How dare he not show up, not shove his way back into your space with some half-assed excuse, like he always does?

Today, you spend most of your time with Kiri, the two of you elbow-deep in supplies, mixing pastes and salves in easy silence. It’s comfortable. Familiar. She doesn’t pry when you’re a little quieter than usual, doesn’t ask why your temper seems shorter, why you seem restless in your own skin.

If she notices, she doesn’t say anything.

So, when curiosity finally gets the best of you and you’re simply unable to keep the words in any longer, you at least try to keep it casual. Offhand. Just an observation.

"Haven’t seen your brother around lately," you say, not looking up from the herbs you’re grinding. "Figured he’d be standing in our way by now."

Kiri huffs a quiet laugh. "He’s been busy," she says, focused on her work. "Off doing whatever stupid shit he and Spider get into."

Busy.

You don’t know why that word bothers you so much. Like the fact that he’s been off doing his usual reckless nonsense should be a relief, but instead, it settles bitter in your stomach.

You force a short, disinterested laugh. "Thought so."

Kiri glances at you then, sharp-eyed and knowing in that way that makes your skin prickle. She really is her mothers daughter. You keep your expression blank, keep your hands moving like the answer doesn’t matter, like you were only asking in passing.

She doesn’t press, but the silence that follows is heavy.

After a moment, you ask, "Busy with uh… with what exactly?"

And you hate the way it comes out— just a little too interested, a little too quick. Kiri notices. Of course she does. Her sharp gaze flicks to you, a brow arching in silent amusement, like she can already see through whatever bullshit you think you’re hiding.

Your stomach twists, heat creeping up your neck, but you don’t take the question back. That would make it worse. Instead, you keep your head down, focused on your work, as if her reaction doesn’t faze you at all.

Eventually, she shrugs.

"Him and Spider have been on patrols all night. The RDA has been getting closer to the camp lately, so Neteyam told them to help." She pauses, mixing something in her bowl. "Yesterday, they went on a supply run. He actually managed to follow orders for once, so that’s new."

Your hands still for half a second before you force them to keep moving. Patrolling all night. A raid. A supply run.

You should be relieved. He‘s helping the clan, he’s catching up on all the duties he‘s been procrastinating on for the past few months, all the things he’s got into trouble for because he was here with you instead of where he was needed. But for some reason, all you can think about is the fact that he’s out there, fighting, running missions, pushing himself more than usually, without even showing up once with a new injury for you to fix.

Like he doesn’t need you.

You shake the thought off before it can settle, jaw clenching.

"And the rest of the week?" you ask, keeping your tone light and casual, but you know you’re pushing it.

Kiri hums. "Training."

That surprises you. "Training who?"

"His students." She smirks a little. "Guess someone decided he should be useful for once."

Students. Lo’ak. Teaching. The thought is almost laughable. But Kiri doesn’t seem to be joking.

You don’t know why that bothers you, either.

You nod, forcing an easy expression onto your face. "Huh. Didn’t think he had the patience for that."

Kiri snorts. "He doesn’t."

That should be the end of it. You should let it go. But you don’t. Because now, instead of wondering where he’s been, your mind is filled with images of him sneaking through the trees at night, standing beside Neteyam during a raid, giving orders, leading others.

It makes your chest feel tight, but you don’t want to think about it.

Kiri finally stops what she’s doing and looks up at you. Her sharp, knowing eyes flick over your face, and you tense without meaning to, already bracing for whatever she’s about to say.

She tilts her head slightly, studying you.

"Y/N."

"Hmm?" You hum as nonchalant as possible, but of course she sees right through you.

"Y/N," she repeats, "Look at me."

Slowly, you let your shoulders hang loose and turn around to look at her with your lips in a thin line.

"Why do you want to know?"

Your fingers twitch around the bandage you’ve been absently toying with. "What?"

Kiri leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "All this time, since you got here, since you started hanging around us, you’ve never bothered to ask about him." Her tone is mild, almost thoughtful, but it doesn’t fool you. There’s something pointed beneath it. "You’ve never wanted to know where he is, what he‘s doing. If anything, you usually seem glad whenever he‘s not around to bother you.”

You open your mouth, then shut it again. Because she’s not wrong. You have spent months rolling your eyes at Lo’ak’s antics, dodging his teasing, brushing off his attempts to drag you into whatever chaos he’s up to. And yeah, maybe there was a time when you appreciated the quiet whenever he wasn’t there.

Her expression shifts, her smirk turning sly. "Oh," she breathes, eyes widening slightly. "Oh."

You scowl. "Oh, what?"

She grins. "You miss him!"

You scoff immediately. "I don’t."

"Uh-huh." Kiri hums, leaning back again. "That’s why you’re sitting here, all tense and weird, trying not to sound too interested."

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your stomach tightens. "Oh, please. I was just curious."

Kiri snickers. "Right. Curious. About the guy you swore was the most annoying person you’ve ever met."

"He is annoying."

"And yet…," she says, dragging the words out.

You cross your arms, leveling Kiri with a look. "And yet nothing. We’ve had this conversation before. You already know why I don’t—" You stop, pressing your lips together before sighing. "Why I can’t do this."

Kiri raises a brow. "Do what, exactly?"

You exhale sharply, irritation curling in your chest. You know what she’s trying to do here. "This." You gesture wildly, and you hate that what she’s doing is working. "Relationships. Whatever it is you’re trying to imply."

Kiri wants you to talk. To open up.

Her gaze softens slightly, but the smirk doesn’t fully disappear. "You mean the thing you’re not in with my brother but he’s telling everyone otherwise?"

You glare at her. "I don’t want to be in a relationship!"

"Mated," Kiri corrects lightheartedly. "And why is that again?"

You huff, looking away. "Because it’s a mess. Because it means getting attached, relying on someone else, and then what? Losing myself in it? Getting my world flipped upside down because of some stupid feelings? No, thanks."

She watches you, waiting. You hesitate before quietly adding, "Because it won’t work."

Kiri’s brows furrow slightly, her teasing tone fading just a little. "But why wouldn’t it work?"

You hesitate again, fingers twitching where they rest against your arm. "Because I’d screw it up. That’s what I do. I push people away before they can leave first. It’s easier that way. And Lo‘ak…"

The words feel raw, too honest, but they spill out anyway. Kiri doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you don’t dare look at her.

"And Lo’ak?" She finally asks.

Your jaw clenches. "He will leave me. I know he will, because they all do. He’s… He’s too good. For me, I mean." You shake your head. "He might be an idiot, but he’s also kind and brave and he has a good heart. And he’s always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. And I— I’m not. I’m just me. A human that can’t trust anyone, that can’t open up to people, that can’t accept anything good that happens in my life because I know nothing good ever comes to me. Especially not without a price."

"You say that like it’s a bad thing." Kiri scoffs. "And in case you haven’t noticed, you are opening up to someone right now."

"Kiri, you know that’s different…" You rub a hand over your face, frustration bubbling up. "And it is a bad thing when he realizes it. When he realizes that I’m not worth it. I’m not even made to survive in his world, how am I meant to live in it? And with him? Yeah, sure…"

The words leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

Kiri frowns now, the teasing completely gone. "That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."

You laugh, but it’s not a genuine one. "Thanks."

Then she leans forward, her tone more serious now. "Lo’ak likes you. You. Not some idea of you, not because he’s confused or bored or whatever you think. And he’s not going to wake up one day and suddenly decide you’re not enough. Lo‘ak believes you’re his mate because he feels it in his soul. He won’t give up on that and you know it."

You shake your head, jaw tightening. "You don’t know that."

Kiri sighs, exasperated. "And you don’t know that either." She shakes her head. "Great Mother, you’re so damn stubborn."

You clench your hands into fists, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "What if he’s just using me?"

Kiri blinks, clearly caught off guard. "What?"

You swallow hard, throat tight. "What if— what if I’m just… a distraction? What if one day he realizes he wants someone else? A Na’vi woman. Someone who fits. Someone who actually belongs here. What if eywa will choose someone for him that didn’t came out of the sky to destroy the land? God, I‘m pretty sure she hates me!"

Kiri’s face softens, and she shakes her head. "You don’t give him enough credit. And that’s," she stops to let out a soft laugh, "that’s not how it works, y/n. Our great mother doesn’t see what’s outside, or where we come from. She sees what is inside. And if Lo‘ak feels this connection between you two so deeply, I’m pretty sure she has already chosen."

You don’t say anything at that, just stare at the ground.

After a moment, Kiri sighs. "You’re scared."

You don’t argue, because you can’t.

She nudges you lightly. "You should tell him."

You snort, shaking your head. "Yeah. Right."

She grins again, but it’s gentler this time. "Fine. Then I’ll tell him."

Your head snaps up. "Don’t you dare!"

"Calm down," she laughs, "I won’t. But you should really think about why this whole situation is bothering you so much. And I won’t say it out loud, but maybe it’s time you finally accept the truth that you’re trying so hard to deny."

You scowl, but Kiri just gives you a knowing look before going back to whatever she was working on, like she didn’t just peel you open and examine every vulnerable part of you.

And you hate that she’s right.

Although you’re not quite done with work for the day, your nerves are shot. Kiri’s words still swirl in your head, clinging to you like heavy smoke, refusing to clear. You need air. Space. Anything to push this conversation out of your mind before it digs in too deep.

"I‘ll be back in a minute," you excuse yourself with a thin smile. With a deep exhale, you step out of the tent— and immediately slam straight into something solid.

The impact knocks the breath from your lungs. Your hands fly out on instinct, gripping onto warm skin as your face collides with the unyielding wall of someone’s chest, no, not chest. Belly.

A familiar belly.

Your stomach drops.

Because Lo’ak doesn’t move. Doesn’t stumble. Doesn’t say a damn word. He just stands there in utter shock.

Right outside the entrance, like he’s been there the whole time. Listening.

— ✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩ —

Lo’ak had never been good at waiting.

Patience wasn’t in his nature, especially not when it came to things that mattered. And you, you mattered.

But after that night, after the date, after the way you had looked at him, eyes soft and open, after the way you had kissed him and then pulled away like you’d just realized you made the biggest mistake in your life, Lo’ak had forced himself to do something he’d never done before.

He gave you space. And he was patient.

It went against every instinct in his body. Normally, no matter how busy he was, he would always make time for you. Always made a point to cross paths with you, to make you roll your eyes at one of his stupid jokes, to linger just a little longer than necessary when he was near you. For every little cut, no matter how small, he rushed to the healers tent to see you. Every little thing he did, he did for you. Like when he made a fresh kill, you were the first he would present it to.

But this past week?

Nothing.

Not because he didn’t want to see you, great mother, no. But because you had run from him. If he was being honest with himself, you didn’t just run from him that night, but every moment since the day you’ve met. He wasn’t stupid, he knew avoidance when he saw it. The way you kept your distance, how your eyes never quite met his when you did cross paths. But that…

That had devastated him more than he cared to admit.

Because the date had been perfect. You had laughed with him, smiled at him in that rare, real way that made his stomach turn to jelly. You had let him get close, had leaned into him instead of pulling away. He had kissed you, and for one glorious second, you had kissed him back.

And then you had shut down completely. As if you had just remembered something terrible.

That you didn’t love him the way Lo‘ak loved you.

It had taken everything in him not to chase after you that night. To not demand an answer, to not fix whatever had cracked between you. But deep down, he had known, pushing you wouldn’t work. It never did.

So, he had tried a different approach.

He, too, had thrown himself into work. Patrolling, training, running missions, participating in raids. He had let himself get so busy that he barely had time to even think. Not that it was possible to not think about you for every second of the day. But he could at least try.

And if he wasn’t on patrol with Spider and the others, he was in the training grounds, drilling young warriors until their movements were sharp and precise. When he wasn’t doing that, he was out scouting, hunting, helping wherever he could to prepare defenses just in case.

So for the first time in months, he didn’t spend every free second searching for you, seeking you out. But he craved your presence nonetheless.

But what was he supposed to do? Keep pushing, keep chasing, when you clearly didn’t want him to?

Still, no matter how hard he tried to focus on everything else, you were always there. Lingering in the back of his mind, no matter how fast he ran, no matter how much distance he put between you.

And today was no different.

Lo’ak had finished up his last lesson early, sending young warriors off to spent the rest of their days with their families, dreaming of the ikrans they will soon be riding. His feet carried him toward the village without thinking, without meaning to, until he found himself near the healers tent— near you.

At first, he hadn’t meant to stop. He wasn’t here to see you. But then he’d heard his name. And when he caught your voice, he froze.

He knew he shouldn’t listen, should turn around and walk away. But the way you said his name, the frustration, the emotion tangled in it, he couldn’t help himself.

So, he stood there, silent, as you and Kiri talked.

And as you spoke, his entire world tilted on its axis.

However, instead of relief, instead of happiness, all Lo’ak felt was frustration, sharp and deep.

Because you still didn’t get it.

You thought you weren’t enough. That he would wake up one day and decide you weren’t worth it. That you were just a distraction, someone temporary and replaceable. Eywa, help him. How could someone as smart as you be so damn stupid sometimes?

It made him want to shake you. To grab your face and make you understand that you weren’t just someone to him— you were everything.

Before he knew it, footsteps moved toward the entrance, and Lo’ak realized, too late, that he had been standing right there. Then the tents entrance had pushed open, and suddenly, you were there. And before either of you could react, you walked straight into him.

Your face pressed against his stomach, hands catching at his sides as you stumbled back, and Lo’ak nearly stopped breathing.

And now Lo‘ak wasn’t waiting either, he was walking. Fast.

"Tanhì, hey, stop. Come on, listen to me."

For a human with such tiny feet, you were damn quick, he’d have to give you that.

"Fuck you!" You spat at him, your face still red from frustration and embarrassment. "Stop following me around, Lo’ak. Leave me alone. God, I’m so angry at you right now!"

He knew that. Fuck, he knew that and you had every right to be. He was such an idiot!

Lo‘ak was already pushing past people, ignoring the curious glances thrown his way as he stalked after you. Your shoulders were tense, your fists clenched like you were barely holding yourself together, as you rushed past the thick wall of trees and into the forest.

"I know, I know… I‘m sorry, okay?" Lo’ak groaned, his ears flat against his skull, tail flicking behind him in agitation. "I didn’t mean to listen, I swear!"

Lo’ak’s feet moved without thought, quick and sure as he followed you deeper into the forest. The bioluminescent flora flickered around him, soft light pulsing beneath his hurried steps, but he barely noticed.

All he could focus on was you.

You didn’t slow down. Didn’t turn around. Didn’t acknowledge him in the slightest, and by the great mother, he hated it!

His stomach twisted, guilt digging into his ribs like a dull knife. He hadn’t meant to listen. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on something so private. But that didn’t change the fact that he had, and eywa knows he felt so guilty about it now, he knew he deserved this. Deserved every every second of your silence. Every step you took away from him, every sharp breath you exhaled as if just existing near him was too much. But that didn’t mean he had to accept it.

"Y/N, please…"

You were moving so damn fast, feet silent against the forest floor, and for a moment, Lo’ak swore you were trying to outrun him. Trying to escape before he could make this right, before he could—

Fuck.

His chest ached at the thought.

"Tanhì, let me explain," he tried again, his voice raw with frustration— at himself, at you, at this whole fucking situation.

But you didn’t stop. Didn’t so much as flinch.

With a groan, he dragged a hand through his braids and over his face. "Come on, don’t do this. Don’t shut me out."

Lo’ak had never been good with words. He had never been patient, never been one to stand still when something mattered.

You were walking so fast by now, practically steaming in anger and Lo’ak was too focused on you, on the rigid set of your shoulders, the fact you wouldn’t even look at him, to realize where exactly you were heading to.

Not until it was too late.

The clearing opened up around you, familiar and wide. His training ground. The one where, just this morning, he had stood among a group of young warriors in training, guiding them through the motions of stringing their bows, correcting their stances, teaching them how to kill with precision.

"Y/N," he called again, his voice harder now, "Just— just wait."

You whirled around so fast he nearly crashed into you.

"What!?" You yelled at him, stopping dead in your track at the same time a voice called out to the two of you.

"Hey, you two! Look out!"

Lo’ak didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.

He moved.

In a blur, his body twisted, muscles tensing as he lunged forward. His hands found your waist, fingers digging into the fabric of your clothing as he yanked you sideways with all the strength he had.

It punched through his shoulder so fast, so violently, that for a second, Lo’ak didn’t even register what had happened. He just knew that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

His breath hitched. His ears rang. His vision blurred at the edges as the force of the impact knocked him back a step.

And when he looked down—

An arrow was there.

Buried deep in his flesh, right there in his left shoulder.

A choked sound tore from your throat, and suddenly, your hands were on him, grabbing, pulling, panicked.

"Lo’ak!" Your voice was sharp and all that frustration from earlier was now replaced with fear. "Lo’ak!"

He blinked, head tilting slightly, as he swallowed down the pain. When he squeezed his eyes shut for a second to breathe through it, a small hiss escaped him through clenched teeth.

"Ouch," he then chuckled, reaching for his shoulder, "fuck, that hurt."

— ✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩ —

[Part 2]

sketch, teaser

a little teaser for upcoming work on ao3 (it'll be angst/(false) comfort)

finished version

how it started and how it ended.

Alma Cortez: the epitome of colonization and assimilation culture

Alma was never a misled teacher. She wasn’t manipulated by Mercer, she wasn’t his victim, she did not have good intentions. She was the CO-FOUNDER of TAP. Including TAP-Con1.

This is a deep dive I’ve been wanting to do for a while, and I’ve finally been able to gather all my ideas and put them together. I know I’m late to the party, but I have a lot to say, especially because of the tendency of this fandom to judge Alma in a very biased way and to ignore important traits of her character just because they’re “uncomfortable”. Even among other people who dislike Alma, I have never seen some topics discussed and I want to change that, because I feel they are fundamental in understanding both her character and the role she plays in the story. Now, that isn’t to say I think people shouldn’t find Alma’s character interesting or entertaining; if you defend her and genuinely sympathize with her, however… this is not the place for you. I am the biggest and proudest Alma hater, so do with that what you will. I’ve seen too many people defend her actions, or try to tone down/change objective things in the game that are even explicitly spelled out for the audience. So, here I am.

Alma always knew exactly what she was doing. She knew what she wanted and what she was willing to do to achieve it. She wanted her school, no matter the cost (as she says quite literally in the game). It's true, she didn't know that Mercer was going to massacre the Sarentu. But she was still willing to take students for her school without theirs or their parents' consent. Let me elaborate.

In the flashback while she's going to the Sarentu moot with Mercer, this is how the conversation goes:

Alma: We're just talking to them, do we need this many soldiers?

Mercer: This is our last chance.* They're too primitive to understand what we can do for their children.

Alma: It's for the children.

Mercer: Exactly. Just think what we can achieve. Finally.

Alma (nodding): We're helping them. They'll see it... in time.

And THIS exactly is what sums up the person that she is. She may not have predicted Mercer’s massacre, but she still went to the moot with the purpose of taking those children no matter what. Because the core of what she believes is this: humans are superior and therefore need to impose their better ways of life on the lesser and uncivilized Na'vi; these people are too stupid to understand anyway, so it’s acceptable for humans to steal their children and forcefully assimilate them in the culture of their oppressors because they’re superior anyway. One day, years after they kidnapped their kids, the Na'vi’s primitive minds will come to understand that and recognize humans as superior, and thanks to their now successfully-brainwashed children, they will get to subjugate them as well.

A project like TAP isn’t the basis for cultural exchange, it’s the basis for cultural erasure and the assimilation of Indigenous children. TAP was LITERALLY a residential school. If you think there could ever be a “good intention” behind this, then you are a despicable human being. Alma knows this. She simply hides it behind a self-righteous facade of generosity and allyship. I don’t care that she genuinely believes that this is a way to help the Na'vi: it doesn’t change the “human-superiority” complex of her beliefs, it doesn’t change the fact that she literally made a fucking residential school. It is literally called “residential” in-game, and it can’t be interpreted differently. This is what “residential school” means. Alma was raised on Earth, where Indigenous people still exist, where residential schools literally already existed. Where do you think they got their inspiration from? It was always intentional. Remember that Mercer and Alma started working together for a reason. They shared a dream, and that dream was always going to be built on the blood and the stolen freedom of Indigenous Na'vi and their children. There was never a single half good intention about this project. This is literally a story about childen surviving residential school and reclaiming their Indigenous culture. The game doesn’t want you to sympathize with the colonizers who did this. The point of the story is for you to empathize with the Indigenous survivors of genocide and colonization.

Believing that you are doing something good — when you are actually doing tremendous harm — only because of your self-righteous superiority complex and actually doing something good are not the same thing. And the fact that Alma believes that by doing this she is actually helping the Na'vi makes her a even worse person. Can’t you see the danger of such mindset, the arrogance, the superiority? It is even more disgusting to me. At least a person like Mercer is honest: he’s horrible, hates the Na'vi and he’s proud of it. Alma, however, tries to hide it in a pathetic and disgusting attempt at feeling morally superior to people like him, tricking herself and the others around her into believing she’s actually a decent person, while her only goal is to achieve the recognition she thinks rightfully belongs to her and simultaneously erase her so-called “guilt”.

If she actually cared about the Sarentu children like people claim she did, she would have not left them in cryo for 16 years. She could have gone back to check if they were alive at any point during that time. She chose not to. She robbed them of their entire lives for the sole reason that she was too hypocritical to face her actions and failure, because that’s what this really is about. She never actually believed she did something wrong, her only shame came from the fact that she didn’t get the recognition she always strived for.

And even once she was forced to go rescue them, she still continued to lie to them and made them believe they had been abandoned by their clan. She kept the lie up when she could at least have told them that the Sarentu were dead. When they relocated to the Clouded Forest, she made them believe the Kame'tire were untrustworthy. She could have just said nothing, but no, she had to reinforce the lies to make herself look better, to pose as the Sarentu’s sole guide once again.

That woman had absolutely no shame for what she did and only admitted the truth once she was forced to do so. Even when she goes back to wake up the Sarentu, we can find out in a note that her priority is still TAP. “TAP is just a tomb for our dead dreams. Or maybe not. Just maybe.” Still, after almost two decades in which she could have, you know, self-analyzed a bit? she says loud and clear that she dgaf about the kids (she never even mentions them), like she’s proved over and over again, but only about her little colonialist assimilation project.

Later, if it wasn't for Anufi recognizing her, she never would have told the truth. Again, the only thing she ever does for the Sarentu — that is, simply informing them of the truth they were owed — she does because she is forced to do so by external forces. Even the only actual good thing she does in general, creating the Resistance, she does after TAP is gone, not because she realizes she’s done something bad, that she’s part of something evil and wants to separate herself from it, but because, again, she is forced to. If it wasn’t for the Omatikaya and the other clans rebelling, if it wasn’t that humans lost Pandora, she would have never left TAP. Not much of a resistance on her side then, right? She may have founded it — again, after she was forced by the circumstances, not because she was moved by authentic and sincere motives, and she’s able to do so only by lying about her project and actions — but it was the other members that made it a Resistance, not her.

* also notice Mercer saying “this is our last chance”. Interesting, right? I wonder why they were unable to find willing students. In Alma’s videolog we find at TAP-Con1 she says: “We’ve gone as far as we can with the Kame'tire. […] We just have to make them see what benefits it could bring to the Na'vi, to share cultures and outlooks. We have so much to teach each other. So much to give to the Na'vi. […] (about the Sarentu) I’m so excited to meet them and welcome the children to our school.”

We just have to make them see what benefits it could bring to the Na'vi. We have so much to teach each other. So much to give to the Na'vi. And here it goes again, the reason why she was never a good person. At first she tries to make it look like their intent is actually exchanging cultures between equals, but then immediately states her true ideology: it’s the humans who can help the primitive Na'vi, not the other way around. This idea that superior sophisticated societies need to share their “wonders” and teach their ways to the lesser, primitive uncivilized (Indigenous) people is beyond disgusting. Again, this is NOT cultural exchange. Because beyond that, I guarantee you there is absolutely NOTHING the Na'vi would have gained from interacting with their colonizers like that. Like Aha'ri said, “why would the Na'vi want to have alliances with you?”. We just have to make them, Alma also says. The Na'vi are never taken into consideration as actual intelligent people with their own will, they are never meant to be part of the conversation: they are too stupid, so we just have to force our culture onto them. But it’s okay!! We’re the superior and civilized ones so we’re actually doing them a favor.

I’m so excited to meet them and welcome the children to our school. Once again, the Na'vi’s will doesn’t matter. She doesn’t say nor imply anything about actually having a discussion with them. The Kame'tire said no, but they just HAVE to have their school, so they’re gonna “welcome the children” one way or another. From the note I mentioned earlier: We all had to make sacrifices. Some... they made the ultimate sacrifice. But the science, the progress. Yeah, we did what we thought was right to make TAP a reality. She admits very clearly (and very casually) that she doesn’t give a flying fuck about the lives she and Mercer purposefully destroyed. It was a sacrifice she (and Mercer) decided had the authority to make for “the science and the progress”. Even decades after the massacre, this is what the lives of the Sarentu still are in her eyes: a necessary and justifiable sacrifice. Alma always knew this. Not in the back of her mind, not subconsciously. Stealing the children was something she was always willing to do, because in her mind it’s a good thing, in her mind they have the right to do it. And that makes her abhorrent.

On TAP-Con1

As I said at the beginning of this post, Alma was never a misled victim, she was TAP’s co-founder, and that obviously includes TAP-Con1. That means that she not only was aware of everything that was going on in that place, but that she was behind it. She was behind the children being kept in cages, washed with disinfectant, being left to sleep and live like prisoners. They were little children, the oldest being SIX, forced to be analyzed in laboratory (and gods know what else they did to them).

From an interaction at the lab of TAP-Con1, our Sarentu says: “Blood samples. Some of us cried everytime.” And Alma was behind it. And even if she wasn’t, she still allowed it. If you seriously think that she, the fucking co-founder, did not have any executive power over the project she literally made and she was just subjugated to Mercer’s will, you are fooling yourself. This is true for both TAP-Con1 and TAP.

“You didn’t do a thing to stop Mercer. The wounds he gave us, you gave as well.”

Nor explained the point so perfectly. She was behind the fear, the abuse, the torture just as much as Mercer and Harding were. Again, she was never just a teacher and the game spells it out for you very clearly. If you ignore this, it’s your choice or your willing lack of understanding.

Completely irredeemable

What I find even worse is that she never even tried to repent or earn the Sarentu’s forgiveness. She did absolutely NOTHING to earn back her place into their lives or into the Resistance. Not because there is something she could actually do to redeem herself. No, what I find irritating is the fact that she just assumed she was given a free pass for everything. At the end of the main game, she even has the audacity to think that she and the Sarentu can move forward together and “be a family again”. Except they never were one, they were never on the same side. It’s frustrating how she still refuses to see that. Another proof that she doesn’t hold herself accountable like she claims she does, she still does not see the damage she has done, she still does not see how wicked her actions and intentions always were. She still sees herself as a victim. But this is no excuse for the audience to consider her as such.

After her Avatar dies and she is forced to admit the truth about the Sarentu massacre, there is a side quest called “Penance” in which Alma, Ri'nela and the MC gather to bury it. You may think after her confession — which she made seem spontaneous but was actually forced by Anufi and Nor — Alma actually feels remorse like she claims she does; you may think she finally understands now the gravity of what she did to the Sarentu, that finally she will act honestly and be ready to face the consequences to her actions.

But no. Once again, her only focus is herself. Instead of humbly coming to the Sarentu, she whines about how she doesn’t feel comfortable in her own body (because she chose for years to deceive herself and most importantly the Sarentu with a fake mask of allyship). When the MC points out that the Avatar was never the real Alma, she still speaks as that mask was her true self, she still believes that she was actually one of them, one of the people she personally oppressed and colonized.

And Ri'nela is having none of it. “Did it make your sins easier to bear? Playing make believe?” This is exactly it. Alma posed as one of the Sarentu, actually tricking herself into believing she was one of them, because this way she didn’t have to face the person she really was all along. This way it was easier to pretend she was in the right, that she was manipulated by Mercer. But as I explained earlier, this doesn’t make her misled, this doesn’t make her a person with good intentions; it just makes her a hypocritical heinous human being.

This is why Alma is irredeemable. Not only because there’s no action good enough to repair the atrocities she was responsible for, but because she would actually had to feel genuine remorse to start a redemption arc. As she made abundantly clear through her words and actions, this is not the case. And I’ll even say this: a person like Alma is utterly incapable of feeling true remorse. There will always be a part of her that believes herself to be partly a victim, a person who just wanted the best but was ultimately misled. This is what I consider the worst, most loathsome and dangerous trait of her character.

On the Sky Breaker

This is why the Sky Breaker dlc left a sour aftertaste in my mouth. Spoilers if you haven’t played it yet.

After the valkyrie attack, when everyone is gathered to discuss what happened, Mokasa (why was he allowed to be there in the first place is a mystery) is bitching about the humans, and Sa'ney rightfully calls him out on his hypocrisy. At this point, Alma (again, why the fuck is she here?) intervenes and says:

“Does he not deserve the same as me? I share the same blame. But… I’ve been allowed to move forward.”

Does he not deserve the same as me? Yes, yes he does. That’s the point. I share the same blame. Do you, Alma? Do you really? Don’t get me wrong, I HATE Mokasa. Leading the RDA to the Sarentu, blaming Anufi, lying to his own clan for decades… I don’t think I need to explain. But it always got me thinking how people point the finger on Mokasa so naturally but don’t give Alma the same treatment. Let’s examine them a bit.

Again, there’s no need for me to explain why everything Mokasa did was horrible and unjustifiable. But let’s take a look at why he did it. He says it in the main game: “it was their children or ours”. As cruel and horrible that sounds (because it is), it’s also true. It’s clear Mokasa was aware of the humans’ intentions from the beginning: he knew they were gonna steal Na'vi children regardless and he ensured those children wouldn’t be Kame'tire. Was he right? Of course not!! There is NO excuse for what he did. He should have warned Anufi and the Sarentu, he should have not torn apart his clan to hide his secret… but it’s still a completely different motive. Alma is a human and an oppressor who wanted to steal children for her own personal ambition; Mokasa, an Indigenous man part of the oppressed category, did evil and inexcusable things because he thought that was the only way to protect his clan and their children from their colonizers. The outcome, the goal even, is the same: the sacrifice of the Sarentu and their children. Yet what drives Mokasa and Alma to commit this atrocity cannot be judged equally. Not really the same, is it?

But I’ve been allowed to move forward. Have you, Alma? HAVE YOU? Who exactly has allowed you to move forward? The Resistance? But why should they ever have a say in this? Yes, they felt betrayed too in a way, obviously. But they’re not the ones whose lives were ruined at her hands. The only ones who get to have a say in this are the Sarentu. Didn’t seem to me that they forgave her; they only made clear they wanted and needed to go their own way. They very clearly separated themselves from her. So, it looks like to me that Alma simply assumed she was given a free pass for everything even though she didn’t do a single thing to repent for her actions.

I have conflicted feelings about Mokasa’s so-called redemption, and I’m not sure what were the game’s intentions regarding him as opposed to Alma. But what is certain is that Alma deserved to pay the consequences for her actions. Mokasa was rightfully banished from the clan. I know the same can’t be done for Alma, but ignoring her is not enough. She deserves to be punished for what she did. I don’t how, honestly (not implying physical torture or anything here guys, dw). Yes, Nor killed her Avatar and I think that was absolutely necessary. But what Nor did (and he 100% had every right) was revealing the real Alma, it was stripping her from the possibility to keep deceiving everyone, especially the Sarentu; it was not, however, the consequence she needs to face. I really hope they will somehow deal with this in the future.

This is what I think of her. I may never hated a character more and I wish she died in the neurosect. There is absolutely no excuse for this woman. There’s no sympathizing with her. I did not villanize her, I did not exaggerate her actions or make her look worse than what she actually is. If people still refuse to see it, I think that says a lot about them.

I want to conclude saying this: I do think Alma is a beautifully written character, and it was surprising how well the game handled such delicate themes, how it showed different affects of colonization and assimilation culture on the children without passing one of them as more rightful. Because at the end of the day this is what the story is about, and the fans ignore this too often: this is a metaphor for residential schools and their survivors. It’s a story about resistance and reconnection. You cannot forget this when you judge characters like Nor, or Teylan, or Alma. Again, you are not meant to defend her. It is not her story. It is the Sarentu’s story. And it is meant to parallel the real stories from which this one was inspired. Always remember that.

Skip Google for Research

As Google has worked to overtake the internet, its search algorithm has not just gotten worse.  It has been designed to prioritize advertisers and popular pages often times excluding pages and content that better matches your search terms 

As a writer in need of information for my stories, I find this unacceptable.  As a proponent of availability of information so the populace can actually educate itself, it is unforgivable.

Below is a concise list of useful research sites compiled by Edward Clark over on Facebook. I was familiar with some, but not all of these.

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Google is so powerful that it “hides” other search systems from us. We just don’t know the existence of most of them. Meanwhile, there are still a huge number of excellent searchers in the world who specialize in books, science, other smart information. Keep a list of sites you never heard of.

www.refseek.com - Academic Resource Search. More than a billion sources: encyclopedia, monographies, magazines.

www.worldcat.org - a search for the contents of 20 thousand worldwide libraries. Find out where lies the nearest rare book you need.

https://link.springer.com - access to more than 10 million scientific documents: books, articles, research protocols.

www.bioline.org.br is a library of scientific bioscience journals published in developing countries.

http://repec.org - volunteers from 102 countries have collected almost 4 million publications on economics and related science.

www.science.gov is an American state search engine on 2200+ scientific sites. More than 200 million articles are indexed.

www.pdfdrive.com is the largest website for free download of books in PDF format. Claiming over 225 million names.

www.base-search.net is one of the most powerful researches on academic studies texts. More than 100 million scientific documents, 70% of them are free

suck, and i cannot stress this enough, my cock to the fucking base