Us Quaritch Fans Looking At Spider:

Us Quaritch fans looking at Spider:

I always comment and like on any story I read so the writer knows how much I love their work! ❤️ @mechformers

the scariest part about being a writer? pouring your heart and soul into this one fic that has taken literal months to piece together only to have this sick feeling in your stomach like it isn’t going to be a hit. not because it isn’t good, no, it’s worthy of a pulitzer, but just because readers won’t interact.

this is my message to my readers and all the readers out there: interact with your writer’s fics. someone can leave a seven word compliment along with a reblog on one of my stories and i’ll think about it for days. writers, good writers, have stopped writing because of the lack of feedback they get. nobody should get the amount of support to the point where they feel it’s worthless to do the thing they’re doing. 

readers. like. reblog. leave a comment.

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

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

taglist; @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @junieswrlds , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @neteyamo , @fanboyluvr , @mazemymirror , @theycallmesia , @girlpostingsposts, @athenachu , @hiya-itsamber , @morks-watermelon , @sanfransolomitatm , @lovedbychoi

Aye yo wtf I had this exact problem today! I was editing stuff and JUST so happened to check links and realized they were broken! :/ Fixed now but wtf.

idk but for me every single link in your masterlist isn't working?

Oh no :( anyone else having the same issue??

Tbh I have no idea what to do or how to fix this, they still work for me 😵‍💫

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