You Can Always Send Me Anons. You Can Always Come To My Inbox And Freak Out About My Character And Your

you can always send me anons. you can always come to my inbox and freak out about my character and your feels about them. you can always throw “okay but picture this” or “this is my headcanon” asks at me. you can always send asks, even when i don’t ask for them. THAT IS ALWAYS OKAY

Das some good shit 🥹🤤

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

part one | part two

pairing: tonowari x omatikaya!fem reader

- warnings: power imbalance? confessions of love, pining, age gap (reader is 21) nsfw content — mating, p in v, lovemaking, female masturbation, oral sex (f receiving) fingering, bonding (connecting of queues) SLIGHT mentions of ao’nung x reader

summary: It’s been a few weeks since your last encounter with Tonowari, but every time you think of the Metkayina leader, your heart begins to race in your chest. You haven’t felt this way since the beginning of your adolescence, and your crush on Tonowari is hitting you full-force; deciding it’s ultimately best to admit your feelings for him before your father chooses a mate for you.

There’s a fire inside of you that’s been set ablaze since your encounter with Tonowari.

It’s a shameful fire, which burns within you constantly. You’re fiery, irritable, frustrated. You mope and pout, pondering on what your future mate will think if they were to ever find out what had happened. If your pure, angelic reputation was to be discovered as tainted — would you still be wanted?

All that consumes you is him. You think back on how vulnerable you were, how small and timid and accepting you had been, sinking to your knees to serve him like it was your duty. Perhaps it was your duty to truly help him, because after all - you gave him that damned flower.

The way you feel burns. Your skin is hot, your fingers curling down on your pillowcase, your hips gently rutting against your mattress like you're a cat in heat, breathy, quiet moans slipping past your lips as you try to grind yourself to an orgasm.

You’d felt this way before. During your adolescence you grew cloudy and desperate for relief, but as you grew older, developing into a mature, adult Na’vi, that feeling soon fizzled away, content with knowing such feelings would never arise again until you’d met your mate.

And you hadn’t met your mate, at least not yet. The man that you crave to mate with, the man who defiled your mouth and admitted to thinking only of you is not your mate. Tonowari is already mated, and though she is with Ewya now, his life is promised to her. Your nose crinkles as you think of him, his large frame towering over yours as he played with your curls, deep groans rumbling from his chest as he fucked your mouth.

It's so painful as you pick up speed, rutting against your pillow pitifully, your stomach flipping and wetness beginning to pool from your cunt, because you know Tonowari could make you feel so much better.

He's so much bigger than you - even one of his fingers could break you, have you crying and withering beneath him, legs trembling as you beg for more. It's painful because you can't actually cum - your eyes prick with tears and you gasp, your clit stimulated by the fabric of your bedding, your stomach pooling with a insatiable warmth.

But no matter how hard you rut, no matter how hard you think of Tonowari and his eagerness to use you for his own good, your orgasm never comes. It fades into the abiss, and your hips still, your chest heaving as you left out a strained huff, all senses of pleasure oozing away from you.

You wonder how you will ever get over this crush you have on Tonowari. You groan as you collapse into your hammock, unsatisfied and unfulfilled, cursing yourself for falling so deeply for a man who is already mated.

All you can wonder is how your chosen mate will feel, when he discovers that you are pining for his leader and are unsatisfied because of it.

The next few days blur into one. Your father is encouraging you to mingle with the boys of the Metkayina clan, even suggesting you become friends with Tonowari’s children as a means to find a potential mate.

“You’re not getting any younger,” your father had told you, his hand smoothing your curls down softly. “And I know this isn’t what you wanted, and that choosing a mate is a long process. But the boys of the Metkayina clan are alright, and you’ll find someone you like at some point, sweetheart. In fact, your mother and I both think that Ao’nung seems nice.”

“I don’t want Ao’nung,” you had said, your tail thrashing angrily behind you as your father placed a reassuring hand on your back. How were you to tell your parents that you didn’t wish to mate with Ao’nung because you wanted his father instead?

It’s ironic, really. When you think of it, Ao’nung is much closer in age to you than his father is. In fact, he’d probably be a much more suitable mate, and you half expected your father to go ahead and arrange it with Tonowari anyway.

The thought of Tonowari makes you feel slightly nauseous. He has children, and he has been mated before, and your parents would certainly not approve of him. Perhaps you should listen to your father - Ao’nung is a nice boy.

Yet, despite all of the negatives, Tonowari is on your mind, constantly. The spark he ignited inside of you the night he confronted you about the irayo flower has been set ablaze since, burning high and mighty and consuming every ounce of you.

You can’t stand it anymore. You need him to put the fire out, to blow out the sparks he lit within you.

That’s why you’re in his hut, your tail swaying shamefully, your eyes fixated on Tonowari, whose browline is crinkled in concern. His presence makes you feel so warm, so drowsy, and you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out, and everything you’d planned to say wilts away.

"What is wrong, little one?" Tonowari asks, his hands grazing your face, moving the stray hair away from your face. "You have been avoiding me - running away when you see me at the communal camp, darting behind rocks to avoid being seen. Yet now you are here, in my hut, in my home, wanting to speak but saying nothing at all."

"I am to be mated," you force out, your tongue feeling cotton-dry in your mouth, your throat constricting as you speak. Tonowari's features stay neutral, void of any readable expression. "Well, I am to choose a mate.”

"I know. You are a mature Na'vi now." His voice is thick as he speaks, his eyes boring into yours. "You are conflicted as to who to choose?”

Your ears pin backward shamefully, guilt washing through you as his he cups your cheeks softly, Tonowari's large frame towering over yours. His touch sends sparks shooting over your skin, and you mumble, “There are many noble men to choose from. My father has suggested Ao’nung,” you say, your throat dry as you spit out the name of his son. Tonowari does not react. “I just fear the one I wish to choose will not choose me.”

Tonowari’s ears flitter against his head, his eyes trailing over towards the wilted irayo flower which sits besides his hammock, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “My son is to become a mighty warrior yet. I do not think he would treat a woman like you how you deserve to be treated.” He blinks, irritation rolling throughout him. “Who is it you wish to choose, little one?” He whispers, his fingers soft as they graze your cheekbones, and your heart hammers in your chest as he dips, to shrink closer to your height.

“I wish to choose you, Tonowari,” you murmur, your body flooding with warmth as his palm cups your cheeks, his ocean eyes glinting with an unreadable expression. “But it feels wrong to even say.”

Your lips tremble softly as you speak, and Tonowari shoots you a fleeting smile, his nose pressing against yours. “You wish to choose me because I can make you feel good,” he whispers, his ears raised on his head, his fingers darting over your shoulder. “Isn’t that right, little one? Isn’t that what you’ve been thinking about all these weeks?”

Guilt pulsates through you as his fingers run down your waist, resting at the strap of your loincloth. Your stomach feels tight, and your body warm, your senses are clouded with him. “Tonowari, you have children.”

“I can always have more,” he tells you, his voice deep as it rumbles in his chest. Your heart races as his fingers skilfully untie the knot of your loincloth, your stomach pooling with a familiar sense of arousal as he does so. “Do you want this as bad as me, little one?”

“I don’t know,” you answer, your voice dry as cotton as you speak, your skin trickling with goosebumps when your loincloth falls to the floor, the costal breeze washing through the hut and riding up your skin.

“That is not an answer.” Tonowari’s voice is husky, his ocean eyes flickering with unknown emotion as he stares at your bare frame. “I need you to tell me you want it.” He presses, his fingers darting against the bare skin of your hip, and your breath hitches in your throat as he stands over you, tall and mighty.

The Olo'eyktan stares down at you, waiting, wanting. He is burning with need — burning almost as brightly as you.

“Yes,” you murmur, gasping as Tonowari’s hands pull you in roughly, his palms kneading at the skin of your ass. “Yes, I want this.”

“That is all you had to say.”

A pathetic whine crawls out of your throat as Tonowari’s body presses you against the wall of his hut. He’s much bigger than you, terrifyingly so, and it has a pool of arousal swirling in your stomach. Tonowari’s hands eagerly press your thighs apart, his overwhelmingly large frame dropping to the ground as he kneels before you, his breath fanning against your cunt.

“I think you wanted this more than me,” he breathes, sliding a finger through your sticky folds, his cock pulsing when you writhe above him.

It feels so deliciously good but so immoral when his lips connect with your cunt. There’s a spark of heat that flashes through you, which snakes up your spine and bites at every nerve. It’s dangerous, it’s hot, and it’s electric. The simple sensation of his lips suckling around your clit has you burning with desire, and you buck your hips against him vigorously.

There’s a sense of danger when Tonowari’s thick finger swirls around your hole. It has the hair pricking up your skin, the overriding sense of fear edging against the fiery nub of pleasure which burns like a flame in your belly. “Tonowari,” you whimper, tensing up as his finger smoothly glides into your cunt, clenching down on his digit involuntarily.

“Stay still, little one. I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, his voice rumbly, vibrating against your clit. His tone is so sharp that you have no choice but to listen, despite the fact that your muscles are screaming at you to move.

Tonowari’s finger is so wide and intrusive, foreign, unknown. Yet it curls inside of you so gently, massaging your walls carefully, that your body relaxes. His tongue works at you skilfully, and you’re blissfully aware of how experienced he is. The thought makes your skin prick with heat because he has been mated before, so this is not new for him, and your emotions are much more heightened for you. The desire within him is not burning as brightly as the desire inside of you, and the thought makes you feel insecure.

You can’t even think about his mating status right now, though. You can’t focus on anything but the curling of his fingers inside of your cunt and the swirling of his tongue around your clit. This is so much better than rutting against the pillow in your room, trying to chase an unachievable orgasm, moaning his name in the depths of despair and need and want.

Tonowari’s lips are pressing so needily against your cunt that you feel like you’re being gorgeously devoured. You try to still the gasp which climbs up your throat, but you can’t. You’re so loud, so desperate to be heard, and it only makes him glide his finger in and out of your cunt faster, carefully beginning to push another inside, stretching you out.

The burn from the stretch is numbed by his tongue, which works softly against your clit. “You’re so wet,” Tonowari murmurs, pulling away from your cunt to admire your swollen, leaking pussy. “I forgot how easily pleased virgins are.”

Your cunt looks desperate, eager to be used, leaking with so much slick that it looks like it’s crying. He hums in approval, his breath fanning over your sensitive cunt, causing goosebumps to rush up your skin.

“It hurts,” you squeak, pawing at his braids like a cat, bucking against him to dull the burning pain from the stretch of his fingers.

He doesn’t utter a word, burying his face closer into your cunt, and your breath hitches, your hips stilling when you feel it. A fire sparks inside of you — burning wildly, freely, and your legs begin to shake involuntarily, your dull fingernails pressing into Tonowari’s hair, pulling him closer. “Please,” you beg, your chest heaving as his fingers curl perfectly inside of you, “I’m so close.”

“That’s it, little one,” he coos, his fingers relentless as they pump into you, the sounds of your squelching cunt echoing around his hut, muffled slightly by his mouth, which suckles eagerly at your clit. “Come undone for me, my pretty girl.”

It’s impossible to neglect an order from the Olo'eyktan, especially when he says it so nicely. You rut your hips, desperate for more, the friction of Tonowari’s tongue and the steady pumping of his fingers putting out your fire. It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt — your muscles somehow relax and constrict at the same time, your cunt pulsing and throbbing manically, your frame shaking from overstimulation. It’s impossibly good, morally shameful, and Tonowari rides you through your orgasm, peppering soft kisses to your cunt.

When he finally pulls away, a string of his salvia follows him lewdly, and his eyes are star-stricken, dazed, fixated entirely on you. The pupil is so blown you can no longer see the light aqua of his eyes, and you struggle to catch your breath as he grabs your arms and forces your body to face the wall.

“Can I bond with you?” He’s breathless, his head lulling against the back of yours.

His breath fans against your neck, making the hair on your skin stand upwards, your tail thrashing with need. “You want to bond with me?” You ask, an edge of exasperation in your tone as Tonowari forces your legs further apart.

“Only if you wish,” he tells you softly, gently beginning to work his tip between your folds, gathering your slick. The sensation makes you feel all warm and gooey, and your hips involuntarily buck downwards to meet his length. “But if we do not bond, we will not be truly mated.”

“Then, please,” you whimper, “make the bond.”

You can feel him smile against the nape of your neck in response to your words. Your cunt is slick with wet, eager to take him in, but you know that his cock is incredibly thick, and his fingers have most certainly not prepared you enough.

Tonowari’s tip aligns with your hole, and your breath stills in your throat. He doesn’t move - doesn’t dare to raise his hips, his breathing even and steady as he raises his queue to yours, a throaty groan slipping past his lips as the tendrils begin to connect.

You feel nothing but him. You experienced nothing but him. Tonowari is everything, everywhere, and it’s like there’s now an inferno inside of you. You’re uncomfortably hot, and the need to take him becomes overwhelming, so you shuffle your hips down, but his hand raises to stop you.

“You’re not ready, little one,” Tonowari mumbles, his fingers gently massaging your hips. “It will hurt. You remember the stretching of your mouth a few weeks ago, yes?”

“Of course. It’s all I could think about.” You say honestly, your face flushing with warmth as he pinches you teasingly.

“It will stretch more than that. Burn more than that. Your cunt is not used to me yet.” He hisses as he gathers more of your slick, making sure his lavender tip is well-lubed. “I haven’t broken you in.”

“Then break me in.”

Tonowari’s teeth graze at the back of your neck — a warning, and it makes you whine, needy for him and his length. “Okay. Stay still, little one - it's going to hurt.”

Your mouth opens to respond, but the words never come out. Tonowari gently begins to coax his cock inside of you, your velvet walls swallowing the tip almost instantly, your ears pinning backwards in response to the pain.

It’s agonising. Tonowari can feel your pain through the bond, and he grunts, continuing to force his cock inside of you. “Breathe, little one,” he says, his hands gently rubbing your arms. “I don’t want you passing out on me.”

The stretch is unbearable. The last sparks of pleasure from your previous orgasm dwindles, and you’re left shocked with the sudden realisation that Tonowari might not even fit inside of you.

“Is it going in?" You ask desperately, your voice hoarse. A gentle kiss is placed to the back of your neck by the Olo'eyktan, a shiver shooting up your body in response.

“You’re taking me so well, little one," he hisses, his cock twitching with need as your cunt finally swallows the mushroom of his cock, sheathing him from the outside world.

"Hurts," you mumble, head lulling on his brawny chest. Tonowari's strong arms hold you in place, pain biting and pinching at every nerve inside of your body. "Hurts so bad."

"Relax," Tonowari says, his voice so low and rumbly it makes arousal rush to your core. You feel so warm and gooey, so broken, so wrong. You're mating someone whose practically the same age as your own father, but when he pushes inside of you an inch more, you find yourself uncaring.

A broken mewl slips past your lips as his hefty cock brushes against your g-spot, his fingers toying at your sensitive clit in an attempt to null you into relaxation. "Tonowari," you gasp, shocks of electric pulsing through your spine when his pace steadies, his cock unable to stretch your cunt any further.

His hands clutch at the plush flesh of your thighs, grunts slipping past his lips as he fucks into you. It's the sexiest thing you've ever heard — the sounds of his desperation merging with the sound of your squelching cunt, which echoes lewdly around the hut, makes you even needier. There's nothing worse than this feeling. The heat consumes you, burning like an inferno.

You whine, bucking down against his length, basking in the incredulous pain from the stretch of him.Your cunt feeling so tight and full, clenching down around his thick length. It feels like you're milking him, and Tonowari hisses, readjusting his hips as to not push himself over the edge.

The bond makes you feel everything. Every good thing about Tonowari washes through you, blinds you - you know every error of his ways, aware of all of his good and bad, and you take him. You rut down onto him, your hips shuffling in sync with his. Tonowari's fingers are careful and delicate as they circle around your clit, the bundle of overstimulated nerves sending you into an overdrive.

You're so wet, it's crazy. Your cunt is practically pulsing, desperate and needy to be used. And he won't do it. Tonowari is rutting into you at a delicate pace, his strokes smooth and even, as not to hurt you. If Tonowari went any faster, he'd rip you apart — at least, that's what it feels like, but you're so overwhelmed with need that you don’t care.

"I want more," you force out, whimpering as his teeth graze against your ears. "I need more."

"I want to fill you up, little one," Tonowari growls, his rumbling shooting throughout your body. "Can I? Is that what you would like?"

Warm, hot flashes. A painful stretch, a beautiful moment. His cock is nestled deep inside of you, brushing beautifully against the spongy spot inside of your cunt. You're so slick, so wet. His movements are smooth, easy, and your white ring of arousal paints the bottom of his length gorgeously.

"Yes, I'd like that," you mumble, crying out as Tonowari's fingers abandon your clit and grab onto your hair, his hips beginning to roll into you faster. "Please."

Everything feels so raw, so sensitive, so new. You're desperate, needy for an orgasm, and the familiar feeling of pressure pools in your lower belly. Warmth consumes you, drowns you, nips at every nerve, and you let go.

It feels perfect. Liberating, free. Hot, white flashes spark through you, your vision peppering with black stars. It feels like you've known Tonowari forever, and your legs shake, unable to hold yourself up any longer. He holds you, strong and safe, your Tonowari. Your mate, who pumps his own cum in you, your walls so tight and wet, the sound of his balls slapping lewdly against your cunt echoing throughout his hut, puts your fire out.

"Thank you, thank you, oh Ewya, thank you," you blabber, tears staining your dark-blue cheeks, unable to contain the overwhelming emotions which wash through you.

It's perfect. Everything's perfect. Even the strange sensation of Tonowari's sticky cum pooling out of you when he pulls out of your cunt, a gentle grunt slipping past his lips. There's a dull throbbing from the absence of him, and goosebumps rise on your skin when he brushes his nose against your shoulder, breathing in your scent.

"I see you,"" Tonowari says, gently smacking his cock against your plush ass, watching as the last of his cum dribbles out and paints your skin. "All of you."

"This was so wrong," you mumble, your face flushing red when his nose nuzzles into your neck.

"There is no going back. We are mated, now.” He presses a gentle kiss against the feverish skin of your neck. "You will make a fine Tsahìk."

You feel nothing but him when he finally prys away from your exhausted body. Tonowari smiles down at you, brushing your curls away from your face gently. His fixation on you makes you nervous - he is so big, towering over you by at least two feet, making you feel meek and small.

"I see you," you mumble back, eyes wide in surprise when he places a soft kiss to your lips.

How the hell are you going to explain to your family that you are now going to be Tsahìk?

taglist: @moonpie3000 @theycallmesia @lianawolf @vmptears @love-chx @yataisha @misscaller06 @plzfeedmebread @totesnothere04 @alezarin @thesecretsoftheuniverse @ikranwings @clockmax

Yes! All give thanks to @mechformers! You have been a inspiration from the beginning, and such a great supporter and motivator! ❤️❤️❤️ You definitely do leave some of the best and sweetest replies! TYSM!

everyone say thankyou @mechformers for being the best genuinely. always motivating me fr

What Do I Tell My Friends Family - Masterlist

Pairing: Human/Recom/Navi Miles Quaritch x Female! Na'vi! Sully! Reader Tags/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, rare pairing, possibly dark content, smut, adult themes, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, lust, older man x younger woman, under age reader (16), degradation, nsfw, dubious consent, dirty talk, orgasm, orgasm denial, foul language, choking, vaginal fucking - each chapter will have it's own tags

Author's Notes: Am I going crazy? I can't find the masterlist for this fic so I'm making a new one. Seems like it just *POOF* disappeared! Someone let me know if I'm just blind >_>

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

--- Tags: @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww

💝💝💝THE USUAL SUSPECTS 💝💝💝

@rsclopez, @manymaria111, @olivia-the-weirdo, @sarcasticrandy, @royallaufeyson, @essenceinpink, @totesnothere04, @mechformers, @angel-of-silver369, @the-hufflebird-girl, @villirios, @dyingofcookies, @goddesslilithmoriarty

If you don't think that fanfic writers get attached to their commenters and repeat commenters... you're crazy.

There's people who comment on my stories, disappear for months at a time, then comment when they catch up and I almost always remember their tagnames. It means the WORLD to me as a writer to have people who comment both regularly and irregularly on my stories/oneshots/moodboards.

When you guys go away for a few weeks or months... we notice! We hope you're okay and just taking a break, and when you come back rested and excited to read more stories, we're so happy to have you back.

So yes, please comment on stories even if it's once in a blue moon. You're not annoying, you're not overbearing for multiple comments or being super excited. You're helping fuel a writer to keep writing just to see what you have to say next about the next chapter! You're doing the Lord's work with your comments!

Whether you leave a Russian novel in a comment, or just go "noice", like... it makes the writer brain go !!!!!!💞

Bish wtf that was beautiful 😭😍🥰

— 𝘨𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘢𝘳, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳

the lowdown — neytiri’s his first love, but you’re his forever…he swears.

the who — jake sully x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 3.2k

the tags & warnings — possible language, she fell first / he fell harder, first love / last love, arguable tension

the notes — based on this request ! ideally this takes place before anyone dies & everyone is happy :) 

masterlist

You and Jake have always been a sticky situation.

Because it didn’t always start with the two of you. At first, he had eyes for someone else, could only bear the thought of being with one person in the whole of Pandora, and that came in the form of the clan’s most important daughter. And you watched from the outskirts, watched as lessons in life turned into lessons of love.

To be frank, you don’t know when the adoration started, when the feelings began to bloom. Your heart was arid territory, but the seeds were planted and the roots were festering.

Maybe it was his dedication to the people, spirit one with the village. He was allegiant to Pandora down to every last blade of grass, every leaf, every insect. And he was kind, offered his heart and full efforts to every endeavor.

You admired him silently, learned to love him quietly, even as the passion between him and Neytiri swelled until it was ready to burst.

You hadn’t really realized that he’d noticed you until one day nestled among the trees.

“Is this where you disappear to everyday?”

Your neck swivels so hard, you almost get whiplash. The project you’re working on, another satchel to replace your own, bunched tight in your fists as your eyes scan the expanse of forest floor wildly.

Jake stands a few meters below, hand resting casually on the hilt of the dagger strapped across his broadening chest.

All that sounds in the quiet between you is the bobbing of your throat as you swallow, eyes wide and unblinking.

“You don’t really talk much, do you?”

You suppose you don’t, not when you’re used to blending into the edges, spending your days lounging around village grounds and finding odd and ends to tend to.

“Nothing?” Jake presses, weight shifting as he peers up at you.

“Not everyday,” is your only response, still unmoving from your perch on the branch.

Jake only nods, conversation coming to a painfully quick lull.

“What are you up to?” he prods, shifting again.

“A bag.”

Your cheeks are warm under his unrelenting gaze, mouth dry because you’ve spent months admiring him from afar, watching him slowly meld into becoming one of the people.

“A bag,” he repeats.

You nod.

He lets out a puff of air that sounds an awful like a humorless laugh and he scratches the back of his neck. He’s folding his cards first this time around, unsure of how to trod such uncertain territory with you.

“See you around, ________,” he says, giving you a playful salute as he peels away.

Your heart skips as he saunters off, timbre of his voice sweet around your name.

Jake continues to find you in that spot often.

Graduated from holding brief conversations from different elevations to propping against adjacent branches enjoying your company, he comes to find out that you're awfully shy. 

Painfully so. But when he makes you laugh, and you timidly smile with full heart, he feels your facade crumbling.

And as chance meetings after duties turn into promises, you can’t help but wonder what's changed. Every moment with you means a moment unspent with his lover. It makes equal parts pride and dread swell in the pit of your stomach.

Whispers about him ripple through the village, that he’s learning quickly, catching onto the way of the people with great ease. There’s talk of a ceremony, of accepting him as one. It makes something sour, bitter, curdle inside of you in the ugliest way possible.  

Because a ceremony means selection and selection means solidifying the relationship he has with the leader’s daughter. It means no more limbo and the time you’ve spent trying to guard your wanting heart is shot to shit. 

It considerably dampens your mood, something that takes Jake a mere glance over your body language to read. 

“Something’s bothering you,” he observes, head tilting to the side. 

You bite the inside of your lip, eyes golden and gooey. They’re the only thing that betrays the stoic expression that colors the carve of your jaw and the curve of your cheekbones. 

It takes every ounce of effort to not visibly melt at the way you carry yourself. 

He doesn’t know when it started with you, how you could have possibly caught his attention when all you did was wash out in the background, bleed through the edges. But you had. Had captured his attention enough for him to second guess such a fleeting barrage of emotions when it came to the future tsahik. 

Neytiri was a force to be reckoned with, but you were a gentle gust of embracing wind. Jake didn’t feel any pressure with you, didn’t feel like he was wearing the skin of someone else. He felt like him. 

“Our time will end,” is all you say. 

It takes him a moment, but he notices the slick of your lashes, the almost imperceptible hiccup. 

His five-fingered hand cradles your chin, and for the briefest of breaths, you want to ease away, want to put as much distance as you could between you and the very one who has the power to nurture and shatter your heart all the same. But something glimmers like liquid gold in Jake’s eyes and you crumple.

“Why is that?” he whispers. “What makes you say so?” 

“Do you think I’m a fool?” you ask.

There is no malice in your tone, only a lingering thread of defeat. 

“Far from it,” Jake answers, nudging you to meet his gaze when your eyes flicker away. “You are the most intelligent and capable person I know.” 

Your breath hitches and you swallow down a petulant rebuttal. 

“I hear what they say about you, Jake Sully,” you say lightly. “They want to make you one of us.” 

A gentle smile twitches upon his lips, something triumphant flickering over his features. 

“You against it?” he asks, eyebrows quirking.

You shake your head, fingers wrapping around his wrist to guide his hand from your face. When you try to pull away, he threads your digits together, tugging you so that you shift closer to him. 

“You do great things for the Omatikaya,” you say. “They are very proud of you.” 

“Are you?” he presses. 

“Am I what?” you ask, voice caught in your throat. 

Jake draws you impossibly closer. You can make out the constellations of blemishes on his face, the smattering of glowing freckles across the expanse of his muscled chest. 

“Are you proud of me?” he wonders. 

It’s a loaded question, one that makes a shiver rip down your spine and your cheeks to warm. 

Of course you were proud of him. You’d watched him from afar for far too long, had seen every accomplishment, every failure. Had seen the spectrum of his emotions, every jubilant moment and bouts of discouragement. 

“Yes,” you answer simply. “Very.” 

The smile that cracks the lush of his mouth makes you swallow hard. 

“Good,” he hums. “I’m glad.”

He’s searching your face, eyes glazed as he takes in all of you before him. The silence is thick, pierceable by the bluntest of edges. When you show no intentions of breaking the quiet, Jake speaks again. 

“Now tell me,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest. “Why is our time ending?” 

Your lips purse and something like annoyance shutters over your pretty face. 

“The tsahik’s daughter has made her intentions with you very clear,” you say, trying to sweeten the acidic words on your tongue. “You cannot waste anymore moments with the likes of me.” 

Jake bites back the widening of his smile, but he can’t help it, not when this encounter solidifies every suspicion he’s had about you and him. 

“You’re right,” he says simply. “Neytiri’s asked her parents for their blessing for us.” 

You try not to let the disdain cloud your features, try to tamp down the twitch of your frown, but you can’t get anything past him, not when Jake’s favorite subject to study is you. 

“I’m sure they are delighted,” you respond, making a move to peel your fingers from his. 

Your chest is tightening and your vision is clouding. 

His grip squeezes and the film of tears that sheen your eyes makes his heart go soft. 

“They do approve,” he adds, pausing to pick his next words carefully. “But…”

Your gaze flicks to meet his again, heart stuttering when you find that his gaze hasn't left your form. His eyes are mapping every one of your features, pausing a moment too long on your lips. 

Your cheeks blaze.

“But?” you fill. 

“I refused,” he replies thoughtfully. 

He could laugh, the way your lips part, brow bones shooting up as your eyes blow wide. 

“Why would you–” 

“My heart belongs to someone else,” he finally admits. “It has for a long time and it was stupid of me to think that I could ignore it.”

“Oh—” Your breath hitches. 

“But I can only act on my heart if she’ll have me,” he says, searching your eyes. 

“Do you think she—” 

Jake breathes out a laugh, tugs you so that your front presses against his, close enough to feel the fan of his breath against your lips, to smell the delicious spice of bathing herbs clinging to his balmy skin.

“You’re torturing me here,” he groans, throwing his head back. 

You see the way his Adam's apple bobs and you fidget in your seat. 

“I—”

“Jesus Christ, love, put me out of my misery and tell me you’ll have me, please.”

You only manage a noise of surprise before his hand cups the back of your neck to guide you forward, lips pressing desperately against yours. His mouth is warm and when he leans into you, you taste the sweetness of berries on his tongue. 

His hands wander, gliding over the smooth expanse of your flesh like he’s committing every curve and edge of your body to his memory. 

“Wait, wait,” you whisper breathlessly. “What about Neytiri? She… She loves you.” 

Jake’s dazed, disoriented because the taste of you makes him far more delirious than he’d expected. 

He presses his forehead against your own. 

“She’s got nothing on you, angel.” 

Everything shifts on its axis after that, but there’s one thing in particular that remains—the seed of doubt that had rooted that sunny day under the canopy of the jungle’s oversized leaves. 

Perhaps you’re being cynical, a little paranoid, but Jake’s yet to claim you before Ewya despite officially becoming one with the people. And you could stomach it, the idea that maybe he’s just prioritizing a smooth shift into life with the clan, but lately he’s been sneaking around, blowing you off. 

You don’t want to give that niggling feeling of insecurity any stock, not when he’s so lovely to you when you two are intertwined, but you happen upon them by chance and you feel stupid. It was silly, really, to expect Jake to cut ties so abruptly when his fickle heart used to all but thrum for the future tsahik. 

They laugh on the embankment, sitting a little too close for comfort.You want to look away, tell yourself that you’re being too much, but he hesitantly tucks a braid behind her ear and your breath hitches in tandem with hers. 

You can’t force yourself to expel the breath in your lungs, eyes locked on their figures like your pupils are tethered. 

You wish you didn’t stick around, wish you’d just continue on in ignorance, because as Jake leans to give Neytiri a closer look at whatever he’s toying with in his hands, the distance starts closing between them. 

They look like they belong together, two bodies that perfectly fuse.

“Oh—” You hadn’t meant to make a sound, wanted to escape quietly, but just as easily as the breadth between the two of them had closed, a chasm forms between their lithe bodies. 

“________?” he calls, voice layered with alarm. 

You turn on your heel, pushing through the curling foliage with blurring vision. 

“Hey, ________, wait!” he calls out, feet splashing from the water as he climbs from where he’d been sitting with his ankles plunged beneath the surface. 

When his footfalls fast approach and his fingers wrap around the width of your forearm, you quickly dash away the pooling tears before turning to face him head on. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispers, cupping your rounded cheeks in his palms. 

His fingertips glide down the length of your neck, brushing over your shoulders as he examines you. 

You shake your head quickly, forcing down the insecurity that bubbles hot like magma under your burning skin. 

“Nothing,” you say, clearing your throat before finally meeting his worried gaze. 

“Oh, come on,” he sighs, pushing the hair from your face to take a better look. “It’s just me, ________. You can tell me the truth.” 

You lick your drying lips before gently breaking away from him. 

“It’s nothing, Jake,” you reassure him with a small smile. “I’m just being silly.”

He opens his mouth to protest, taking a step towards you. 

“Jake Sully!” Tsu’tey’s voice thunders through the forest as he claps a hand down on his comrade’s shoulder.

Jake turns a warning eye towards him, mutters that now isn’t the time as he swats his hands away, but when he turns to face you, you’re gone. 

You feel guilty. 

Guilty because you fear that you’ve blown things way out of proportion, guilty because Jake’s reserved to giving you your space after another failed attempt at coaxing you from your shell. And infinitely so because he holds you close, when your breathing is steady and you drift in and out of sleep. You hear him, like the gentlest of lullabies. 

I love you. 

It haunts you, those three words. And you guess you’re no better than him. The weight of solidifying your union before Ewya is a heavy one, Jake knows this. But such human words weigh the same to him. And you know that to hear such a lofty sentiment rasp from your soft voice is all he could ever want. 

“He is at his wit’s end, you know?” 

You pause your laundering, allowing your loincloths and woven tops to sink back to the shallow bed of the river. When you crane your neck to find the source of the voice, you’re surprised to find Neytiri leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree. 

Your response is delayed. 

“...Huh?” 

“Jake,” she says simply, and your cheeks warm. “You worry him.” 

You turn back to your chore, spine stiffening when something rustles and Neytiri moves to sit next to you. 

“May I?” she asks, reaching for one of your intricately beaded tops. 

“Okay,” you whisper, unable to meet her sharp gaze. 

“I was hurt when he denied my parent’s blessing,” she says casually, like the thought alone doesn’t make your heart ache for the tsahik’s daughter. You can’t help it. “But I wasn’t surprised.” 

Your head snaps up, meeting her eyes reluctantly. 

“When I first brought him back to the village,” she says, wringing the corded fabric. “You caught his eye, but you didn’t even glance his way.” 

And truthfully, you hadn’t. Dreamwalkers were trouble and you had no intention of ever crossing paths with him. But then you began to see more and more of him, began to feel the weight of his presence on the village and you couldn’t help but give into the fall. 

“He started asking about you,” she laughs quietly. “Every time he’d see you. Said that you never paid him any mind no matter how close he got.” 

You roll your lips nervously, watching the way she reaches for another one of your garments and washes with increasing frustration. You almost miss the tears welling in her eyes. 

“I wished for so long that he would let it go, let you go, but you have a hold on him, ________,” she rasps. 

You blink in disbelief, shaky fingers reaching to touch her own. 

Her face tilts towards yours and her grip on the fabric loosens. 

“Jake Sully is a good man,” she whispers. “Don’t waste something good because you are scared. It will not only be a disservice to him or me, but yourself.” 

You swallow, nodding slowly. 

“I’m–” you take in a shuddering breath as your head bows. “I’m sorry.” 

A wet hand comes up to your cheek. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Neytiri coos. “Just be grateful. Be fearless. It is Eywa’s will.” 

Jake almost thinks you’re a vision when he sees you making quick strides towards him. He breaks away from the circle of villagers just as you press yourself into his chest and those not privy to his relationship with you watch with widened eyes. 

“Hi,” he breathes, combing his fingers through your hair. “Hi.” 

You don’t say anything, arms looping around the narrow of his waist as he throws an apologetic look over his shoulder and walks the two of you towards a quiet area outside of the circle. 

“Everything alright?” he asks, trying to peel you away from where you’ve buried your face in his chest.

You mumble something unintelligible, something that makes his ears prick hard to hear, but your cheeks are hot and you aren’t sure if you can handle seeing his softened eyes as you utter the words. 

“What?” he asks, pulling away enough to see the flush across your face. 

“Said Iloveyou,” you murmur. 

He freezes, like his brain is short circuiting when he pieces the words together. 

“What?” 

You steel your nerves, suck a deep breath into your lungs, and find his sunny eyes.

“I love you, Jake,” you say shakily. “I love you and—”

The laugh that leaves him is giddy and you have half the nerve to melt, but he’s kissing you for the first time since that day in the forest and you’re putty in his hands. 

“Wow,” he whispers when you break away to stand on your tiptoes and wind your arms around his neck. “I didn’t think…”

You’re kissing him again, fervently, like you’re trying to make up for lost time and he can’t help the tickling behind his navel or the heat that starts from his toes and burns all the way up his chest. 

Your skin is plush under the pads of his wandering hands and those three words, spoken into the hum of the surrounding jungle is all the confirmation that he needs that it’s you and him forever. 

“Wait, wait,” he sighs breathlessly. “I have–” 

A hand snakes between your bodies, fingers digging into the pouch strapped across his broad chest.

You watch with viscous eyes as he pulls what looks to be a gilded ring, tiny in circumference. Two pieces of thin vine cord through either side, beaded with pearlescent stones and smooth gems. 

“I…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck as you fall back on the heels of your feet, arms loosening from around his neck to give him the room to hold it up to you. “It’s one of the only things I care about from Earth.” 

Your browbones twitch. 

“The ring’s been in my family for a while,” he says gently. “But it’s probably too small and I know that Na’vi don’t wear things on their fingers and–” 

“It’s beautiful, Jake,” you say softly, palm pressing against his chest. 

He grins, sliding the heirloom up your wrist to rest snugly around the flesh of your bicep.

“Perfect,” he murmurs to himself. 

And when your eyes swing from the gift to meet his gaze, you find him already staring down at you tenderly.

“I don’t…” you trail off, suddenly shy under such intensity. “I don’t have anything for you.” 

Jake barks out a laugh, corner of his lips quirking up in a lopsided smile as he cups your face in his hands and brings his forehead to yours. 

“Don’t need to give me anything,” he says quickly, breaths warm and lips a hairsbreadth from your own. “Just tell me you love me again, that’s enough.” 

Your face is indescribably warm under his cool touch. 

“And maybe another kiss,” he adds coyly, then a hand skims over the small of your back, dangerously close to your tail. “Or more…if you want.” 

neng © 2023

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