Fyep

fyep

fyep [fj·ɛp̚] vtr. hold in the hand, grasp, grip

Request from @tigermoon3.

The late afternoon sun is just beginning to set, turning from bright yellow to soothing orange, and it streams into the bedroom through the open window, along with a cooling breeze.

I'm exhausted, and so is Neteyam, and we're already in bed even though the sun hasn't yet set. Though it's been a long journey, I want nothing more than to let sleep take me.

But the beautiful orange sun is so bright, even as it fades, and it glows on my closed eyelids.

I turn, and crawl up onto Neteyam, putting my head into the crook of his neck, blocking out the sun with his hulking form.

"Y/N," he protests, sounding like he is just on the verge of sleep, but even as he is annoyed, he slips his arms around my waist, engulfing me in a warm embrace. I fit perfectly here on his chest, my head on his shoulder and my hips barely making it to his belly button.

He holds me tightly, and nuzzles his nose against my cheek. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yes," I reply in a quiet murmur, smiling against his skin. "I just want the sun to set."

"If I could force it down any faster, I would."

He says it like a joke, but we both know it's true; if Neteyam could move heaven and earth for me, he would.

With the darkness now provided, and his arms wrapped warmly around me, I feel safe, and sleep finally comes.

A Misunderstanding

18+

You and Steve slept together a couple of weeks ago and, though he said he would, he hasn't called you since. Harsh words from your best friend lead you to accept that he just doesn't want you in that way.

Content Warning: Frat!Steve x Reader, Frat!Sam x Reader (platonic... for the most part), partying, suggestive language, flirting, mention of alcohol and weed, mention of sex, arguing, slut shaming, angst, insecure!reader, self-deprecating thoughts, softie!frat!bucky, hurt/comfort, fluff, kissies.

"You're crazy," Sam says with wide eyes and a dopey grin as he watches you swallow down the shot. "I'm pretty sure that counts as a double."

Shrugging, you smile back at him. "What can I say, Wilson? I'm a pro."

"That, you are," He says, shooting you a wink. "And I've gotta say, baby, I'm proud of you. I wasn't expecting you to actually do it."

"Listen, I'm a simple girl," You tell him as the music booms around you in the dimly lit kitchen. "Someone pours me a shot as kindly as you did, I'm not gonna reject it."

He glances around before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. "I mean, I gave you a choice, didn't I?"

Remembering his earlier words, you bite your lip. "I can't kiss you, Sam."

"Why not?" He whispers, looking you up and down.

Instinctively, your head turns to the side where you see the reason. Steve fucking Rogers. The asshole that made you think you had a special connection, only to completely ghost you after your one night stand. Though you hate him, you can't kiss one of his best friends. You're not that petty. He's chatting to a couple of girls, and you wonder if he's gonna take any of them home tonight. Asshole.

"I just can't," You say with a shrug.

"Alright, alright, I'll back off," Sam says, before his eyes light up. "Tequila?"

The two of you end up in the middle of the kitchen, sprinkling salt onto the backs of your hands. Once you're done, you hold your hand out to him and he holds his out to yours.

"Ready?" He asks you, to which you nod.

He licks the salt off your hand and you do the same to his, before quickly downing the shots of tequila. With a wince, you slam the shot glass back onto the counter and take the wedge of lime, sucking it for a few seconds. Just as the acidic liquid hits your tongue, Sam pulls the wedge from your mouth and puts it into his own.

"Fuck," You grimace, shaking your head. "Is it pathetic that I'm not used to tequila yet?"

Sam takes out the sucked lime and shakes his head, patting your shoulder. "You'll get there, baby. You'll get there."

After the shots, you and Sam talk for a few more minutes, laughing and dancing to the music. Before you can lean in and suggest you get another drink because it hasn't hit you yet, you feel a hand tightly gripping your arm.

Turning around, you see your best friend. "Hey, Annella!"

She has a stern look in her face as she pulls you backwards. "Come with me."

Frowning, you glance at Sam before turning back to her. "Can I just finish talking to-"

"Come with me, now," She cuts you off with no bit of humor on her features, immediately sobering you.

"Okay," You say, patting Sam's chest. "I guess I have to leave you, Wilson."

He gives you a nod. "I'll find you later."

Annella drags you over to the side, rage in her eyes. "What the heck, Y/N?"

Utterly confused, you take a step back. "What's wrong? What did I do?"

"Why are you flirting with Sam Wilson?" She asks you, clearly infuriated.

"Wha- flirting? I was just talking to him," You insist incredulously, wondering where this came from.

"Oh, please; I'm your best friend, I know when you're flirting," She says with an eye-roll. "Really? In the middle of a party where everyone can see you? With Sam fucking Wilson: the biggest whore on campus?"

"Will you calm down? Sam and I are just friends!" You argue. "And who cares if everyone can see?"

With a huff, Annella folds her arms across her chest. "You're acting like a slut, Y/N."

Her words cut right through you, making your eyes widen. "Why would you say that?" You ask her lowly.

"Because I'm your friend and I care about you," She claims. "I don't want you to flirt with guys like fucking Sam Wilson because I know what people will think!"

"Who cares what people think?" You ask her with a frown. "Sam and I were just having fun. If someone has a problem with that, it doesn't affect me at all and I couldn't care less."

"Are you kidding me? You sound so..." She trails off, shaking her head.

"I sound so what, Annella?" You challenge her with a raised brow.

"Slutty. You sound slutty," She spits with clenched fists, before muttering, "No wonder Steve didn't call you back."

That line hurts you deep.

"How could you say that?" You ask her, utterly shocked.

"He's right there, Y/N, he can see what you're doing," She says with narrow eyes. "He can see you flirting with one of his best friends; of course he doesn't want you!"

A few people around you have noticed that you're arguing, looking at you with odd looks and whispering between themselves. Having had enough of Annella, you storm out of the apartment, making your way outside where you can get some fresh air.

There's a short wall where a few people are smoking near, and you take a seat on it with a sigh. Is Annella right? Did Steve ghost you because he thinks you flirt too much with other people? Namely, his best friend? Does he think you're a slut, too? Oh, God. Did he sleep with you just because he knows you're easy?

"What's on your mind, sugar?" A gentle voice comes from the cold, dark night, like a blanket wrapping around you in the middle of a snowstorm.

You look to the left to see Bucky Barnes standing with a concerned look on his face and a blunt between his fingers. Sniffling, you shake your head. "Nothing."

He sits down next to you, frowning. "Which asshole up there has got you crying, hmm? Point him out to me and I'll break his legs."

"I don't cry over assholes," You claim, though that's clearly a lie.

"Then what's wrong?" He asks you, nudging your shoulder with his. "Wanna smoke?"

"No thanks; I've been drinking," You reply politely, before letting out a sigh. "I had a fight with my friend. She- she said I act like a slut."

"What?" Bucky scoffs, blowing out smoke. "Why did she say that?"

"I wasn't even flirting with Sam, but she thinks I was," You say with a shrug. "I was just doing a couple of shots with him. He even asked me to kiss him and I said no."

"Sam asked you to kiss him?" Bucky repeats with narrow eyes.

"Don't tell Steve," You implore, before your shoulders drop. "Not like he'll care, anyway. And that's what Annella said - she said Steve didn't call me because he must think I'm a slut, too. I don't even care that he didn't call me, I swear. I was just shocked that she said that."

"Well," Bucky begins, processing your words. "She was very wrong. And unkind. I mean, sure you're a slut, but she didn't have to come out and say it-"

"Hey!" You cry, hitting his arm.

"Kidding!" He exclaims, wrapping his arm around you in a tight hug. "Don't pay any attention to her words, alright?"

His comforting embrace makes tears spring into your eyes. "It's just that... Steve was actually really nice to me. No boy has ever been that nice to me. And he was saying things... I guess I'm an idiot for believing him. But he was so sweet and gentle; I thought for sure he'd call me. But he didn't. I'm such an idiot."

"Hey now, don't say that," Bucky scolds you gently, rocking you back and forth. "You're not an idiot."

"He was so nice," You whisper, shaking your head. "And he made me cum like, three times."

"Oh. Okay," Bucky says with wide eyes.

"Three fucking times! Even if it was just one, I'd have been amazed," You admit. "But he gave me three before he even came once!"

"Well, that's our Steve. He's a giver," Bucky says with a grimace. "And for what it's worth, I can say as his best friend that there's no way he thinks anything bad of you."

You cling to his chest, hoping he's right but suspecting that he's only being nice. He's probably had to mend multiple girls' hearts that have been broken by Steve.

Speaking of the devil, Steve himself exits the building to see you and Bucky huddled together on the wall. He walks over when he sees Bucky whispering into your ear and stroking your hair, concerned about your wellbeing.

"Everything okay here?" Steve asks, making you tense up in Bucky's arms.

Bucky turns to him. "Yeah, man."

Steve gives him a nod as if to say, 'You can leave now,' and Bucky promptly stands up before patting your back and walking back towards the building.

Sitting on the wall with his legs on either side, Steve looks down at you. "You okay?" He asks, his voice low and gravelly.

"Mhm," You mumble, hoping you don't do something stupid like cry in front of him.

"I saw Annella yelling at you," He tells you, frowning.

A dry laugh leaves your mouth. "Yeah."

"What about?" He pushes, unable to kill his curiosity.

You shrug, "She thought I was flirting with Sam- which I wasn't."

Steve slowly nods. "She wants Sam to herself, or something?"

"No; she just said it was making me look like a slut," You admit with a mutter. "And she said that's why you-" Stopping mid-sentence, you inwardly curse yourself. Fuck. Why would you say that?

"I what?" He questions, confused.

"No, it's nothing," You insists, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

"I wanna know what she said," Steve says persistently. "That's why I what?"

You look down with dejection. "She said that's why you didn't call me - but I swear, I really don't care that you didn't call me-"

"Y/N-"

"Seriously," You insist, lying through your teeth. "I just mentioned it in passing. She asked if you had called me since we slept together, and I said no - and I don't mind at all that you didn't. You don't owe me anything."

"Y/N," Steve says firmly, shutting you up. "Give me your hand."

You frown. "Which one do you want?"

Your question makes him chuckle and he shakes his head. "Any. Either. Both."

Holding out both hands to him, you watch with confusion as he holds them in his.

Steve takes a deep breath. "I think there's been a misunderstanding."

The phrase makes your entire body cringe as you recoil backwards. You've been rejected before, but you don't think you can take it from him. Not from Steve.

"It really doesn't matter," You insist, trying to pull your hands out of his tight grip but failing miserably. "I wasn't expecting anything, I swear."

"Can I just say what I wanna say?" He asks you, raising a brow.

"Please, Steve, it's fine," You beg, standing up with you hands still being held hostage by him. "We don't have to talk about it and you don't have to explain anything; we can just forget anything ever happened."

"Oh, my God," Steve mumbles, looking up at you. "You are absolutely terrified of me rejecting you."

You feel nauseous. With a shaky breath, you whimper. "Can we just drop this, please?"

"Look at me," He says firmly. "Sit down."

With your heart racing, you reluctantly do as he says. Fuck. Here we go.

"Listen to me, Y/N," Steve says, his voice and eyes softening. "I really, really like you."

You suck in a breath. "But?"

He lets out a gentle chuckle. "Okay, there is a 'but'-"

"Please, let go of me-"

"But it's an absolutely miniscule 'but' and it's entirely fixable!" He claims.

"Steve-"

"You gave me the wrong number."

You stop pulling away. Your face drops. Your brows knit together. "What?"

"I called the number you gave and some old man picked up," Steve tells you. "I figured you gave me the wrong number on purpose because you didn't want me to call you."

"Oh," Is all you can say.

"Yeah," He mumbles, letting go of your hands.

"Oh," You repeat with widening eyes. "So you did try to call me?"

"Yes, I tried to fucking call you," He says with a laugh. "Bucky told me to just DM you but I thought you didn't wanna see me again because of the whole wrong number thing."

"What were you- why were you calling?" You ask him, your voice small.

"I called you the next afternoon," He informs you with a soft smile. "I was gonna ask you if you wanted to check out the Christmas Market with me."

"That sounds nice," You mutter, feeling both foolish and utterly ecstatic. "I would've said yes."

"Yeah?" He nudges your shoulder playfully.

"Absolutely," You insist, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

A smile grows on his lips as he leans even closer in. Slowly, he kisses you, causing flashes of the perfect night you shared to pop up in your mind. You feel gentle explosions of nerves and excitement as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck, stroking the side of your throat with his thumb as you remember all the things his fingers did to you that night.

He pulls away after a few minutes, an accomplished look on his face. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at six. Make sure you're hungry."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, but somehow you remain cool and collected. "Wait, I-"

"See you tomorrow, beautiful," Steve calls out as he gets up and walks away.

Oh, what a night.

steve masterlist

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Masterlist

ℕ𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕪𝕒𝕞

Tiny Hands (Neteyam x Fem! Human Reader) (12/30/2022)

𝕃𝕠’𝕒𝕜

* stay tuned

𝕁𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕪

* stay tuned

𝕊𝕡𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣

* stay tuned

𝕆𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣

Ocean Breathes Salty (Sully Family x Daughter! Reader) (12/31/2022)

‘𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝔽𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪’ 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤

Chapter one - The First Bead * stay tuned

Chapter two - Disobeying Orders *stay tuned

Chapter three - Demons * stay tuned

Chapter four - Making the Tough Calls *stay tuned

Chapter five - Exiled *stay tuned

Chapter six - The Way of Water *stay tuned

Chapter seven - Beyond the Reef *stay tuned

Please refer to this post before submitting requests:

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Requests are: OPEN

🌊 𝙵𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾𝙼𝚂 𝙸 𝚆𝚁𝙸𝚃𝙴 𝙵𝙾𝚁 🌊 Avatar & Avatar: The Way of Water 🌊 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 & 𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙿𝚂 🌊 I write for the following characters: Neteyam

Kimetsu no Yaiba: The Stars and Cosmos Arc

Chapter 1: The Journey Begins

“You both are prone to success, you have my support, my love, the strength of our ancestors to guide you along with the lessons you were taught. I know you will make us proud.” A wise woman speaks while grasping the hands of two young women in front of her.

The woman on the left scoffs at the final sentence and the woman next to her furrows her brow in annoyance as well. The older woman before them sighs, with a shake to her head. If she knew her daughters, they did not liked how she phrased the last sentence.

“I know that your father has hurt you both-“

“Hurt isn’t even the word.” The second woman speaks up with a grit to her teeth.

“But, I didn’t just mean myself and him. I mean your siblings and everyone in the village has your back if anything goes wrong on your journey. You girls will be gone an entire year,” their mother pursed her lips to keep them from quivering and squeezed each hand, as a way to have a hold on them for a little bit longer.

“I can only send you off with my prayers for your safe return and a piece of my heart. Do not forget your home, your teachings and most importantly,” she gives them both a pointed look.

“Do not forget yourselves. Take care of one another, protect each other and come and visit when you have the time.” She tells them and her daughters nod their heads.

Their mother, Kaya pulls her daughters to her chest, almost smothering them in a hug. A kiss is placed on each daughter’s head and she slowly releases them.

“You are my twins, one of the many in the brood that looks like me,” this earns a smile from her daughters until Kaya straightens her back as she notices the sun was beginning to set in the distance. It was time.

“Now, you must go and foresee how your talents will help change the world. I love you both and wish for your safe return. Find Sakonji Urokodaki, he will help you on your journey.” Her daughters nod their heads and turn to leave the large home they had grew up in with their extended family. Kaya let’s out a shaky breath as soon as she hears the front door close, the waterworks begin.

Tears fell down her cheeks as Kaya took a deep breath and then stood from her knelt form. Her eyebrows narrow in distain as she looks to her left.

“Still a coward, then? Too afraid to even see your own daughters go off on their own journeys?” She spoke to the looming black figure in the doorway. They shuffle away from Kaya’s sight and the older woman scoffs in disbelief.

“Hmph.” Kaya leaves the room and heads to the kitchen to begin dinner.

Elsewhere~

The sun had finally taken it’s rest for the day and the moon came to sit prettily in the cloudy blue sky.

“Come Aicha. We begin our mission tonight.” Aicha, looks at her sister who is already heading uphill taking out one of the weapons sitting on her hip.

“Yes Amara, tonight we will prove to our family that we are the best of the best.” Aicha says and Amara chuckles with a nod.

“Yes, sister. We’ve always been the best.”

More than just a distraction masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

I See You — Chapter 4: Flight

Summary: You observe the mighty warrior, the famed Toruk Makto, struggling to adjust to his new life in the Metkayina clan. The gentle whisperings of Eywa push you past your comfort to reach out a helping hand, to ease Jake Sully in the only way you can.

You offer to teach him the way of water as the adopted daughter of the Olo'eyktan. An outcast befriending the outsider.

Pairing: Widowed!Jake Sully & Fem!Metkayina!Reader

Chapter WC: 3.3k | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next | Main Masterlist

Word bank:  'evi - child (affectionate), koakte - woman/old woman, ma evi' - dear child, skxawng - idiot/moron, kä’ärìp - push, seysonìltsan - well done, kuru - neural queue (the long braid the Na'vi have to form tsaheylu), txopu rä’ä si - don't be afraid, irayo - thank you, fäkä - ascend/go up. (pls note that I do not speak fluent Na'vi. My knowledge is limited so if you see an error kindly let me know and I will fix it!)

Tw: light angst (sort of), not beta read, jake being a dilf (lmk if I missed anything)

A/n: hello my lovely friends! I am having a blast writing this series. Thank you for all of your comments and support. They keep me excited to post more and more <3 Things heat up a little bit (in my mind, at least) so prepare yourselves!! I actually had to split what I had in mind for this chapter into two because I got swept up in writing it. The aftermath of this chapter's adventure will be in the next one! I was so excited to post this, so I am sorry for grammatical errors.

The morning sun is hot on your neck. A slight sheen of sweat coats your skin as you finish applying fresh herbs to one of the Awa’atlu’s elders. Iouna cut herself while helping her mate repair their marui that had been damaged in a storm. The wound wasn’t bad. Merely a large scrape along her forearm but upon seeing it undressed and puffy in the sunlight, you pulled her into Ronal’s healing room. She griped about it the whole time. 

“There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You stand from your squat to begin returning the herbs on the tray made of driftwood settled against the wall. 

“Quiet, ‘evi (child). I’ll not deal with your chastising.” Her grumpiness is something that never fails to make you smile. 

“You wouldn’t have to deal with it if you had come in for healing as soon as you got hurt, koakte.” (old woman) She huffs, the seashells woven into the ends of her hair clinking together as she shakes her head. “You are all settled but please...” You look back at her as you place the last jar away. “Come back soon to get it checked, okay?” 

“I’ve suffered wounds worse than this.” Her dismissal does nothing to stop the firm glare you give her as you walk to the entrance of the marui. 

You know her words hold truth. Iouna is one of the best hunters you’ve ever witnessed. Her skin is littered with indents and scars. She occasionally delights the young ones with a story of their origin by the fire. Tales of adventure, pain, and fearlessness that had you holding your breath to this day. The woman has seen her fair share of battle. 

“I know you have, Iouna.” The morning light beams onto the crystalline ocean with fervor today. The top of the water reminds you of an assortment of shimmering blue beads. “I care for you out of respect, not pity.” She walks next to you, so tall that you look up at her. 

“I know, ‘evi.” (child) A soft smile paints her features and you mirror the expression. Then, you scour the water in search of the familiar figure you’ve come to know. 

A heavy boulder sinks into your stomach at the sight of Jake. He’s on the water with Tonowari, a similar sight to when you first met him. From here you can see Jake settle onto the tsurak. It writhes beneath his weight, which makes Jake grip the harness to steady himself. This is it. The moment reveals if your lessons have had any effect in helping him master the warrior mount of the Metkayina. 

Water splashes beneath him as he reaches behind for his braid. You can’t tear your eyes from the stretch of muscles on his abdomen that tense as he leans back. It shoots some unknown feeling down the back of your neck, through your belly, and straight to your toes. He makes tsaheylu with the tsurak swiftly before giving a nod to Tonowari. You can practically hear him say, ‘I got this’, before rushing forward in the water. 

“You desire Toruk Makto.” The declaration causes you to flinch, looking up at Iouna in alarm. Her eyes hold the knowledge that dares you to question her, to tell her she’s wrong. You look away from the stormy gaze to the horizon, focusing on nothing as you attempt to find something to say. 

“I-,” you start. 

“Don’t try to deny it, _____. You look at him the way I look at Iwa’te.” Her mate of forty cycles. A kind father and an equally fierce hunter that used to teach you at your younger age. Fangs press into your lower lip at that. Are you truly that obvious about the stirrings in your heart as of late for Jake?

“I… am not sure what to say to that.” Admitting your feelings seems too soon, too final. Then, you’d have to face them. You’d be forced to look at the truth that’s been there from the start. 

You and Jake could never be together.

“You don’t need to. There’s nothing you could say that’d convince me otherwise.” She breathes deeply, adjusting the netted shawl over her shoulders as silence overtakes you both. 

Jake was partially successful. The amber fins of the tsurak rose from the sea in a wobbly but triumphant start. It dove under too fast which made him let go. Almost. 

 “Eywa must think I'm a fool, Iouna.” You can’t help but admit at least this to her. While she does have a prickly temperament, Iouna is not a gossip. Anything you talk about with her is secure. A secret between you both and the ocean. 

“Why, ma ‘evi?” (dear child) Her tone is gentle, a rare occurrence, and your shoulders cave inward. 

“To lead me to Jake to help him, only to yearn for something I cannot have.” The words are like bile in your throat. They burn with every inhale you take. 

“Pity does no one good, especially not when it comes to matters of the heart.” You frown at her but she meets it with a kind smile. “Eywa would not have led you to him without knowing how you’d come to feel.” 

“So she wanted me to desire a Na’vi that I have no chance with?” You’re confused and frustrated. A roiling, angry churning takes over your gut. 

“Chance has nothing to do with it.” Her riddles confuse you, so you turn to face her with a look of utter bewilderment. “Do you not trust Eywa, ‘evi?”

Trust? Of course, you do. You never would’ve approached Jake if you did not trust the Great Mother. “You know I do.” 

“Really? Then why have you resigned to a fate that may never come?” Your ears flick back at that. 

“Are you saying that I’m being irrational for accepting that I cannot be with an already mated Na’vi?” Her tail swishes behind her as if she finds amusement in your squabbling. You cross your arms and look away from the wisdom in her eyes. 

“Already mated?” Iouna lets out a soft laugh. “He might’ve been previously mated, but that does not mean he cannot choose another if he wishes… if Eywa wills it.” 

A commotion steals your attention before you can respond. Loud whooping and yelling from Metkayina warriors. They sing battle cries, lifting spears and hands into the air as Jake glides above and below the ocean on the tsurak. He did it. Pride shudders through you. 

“You would pair well with Toruk Makto.” That causes you to whip your head in her direction, eyes wide as your mouth drops open. 

“Iouna!” you squawk. She bellows out a laugh this time. Your ears fold back at the audacity. 

“Do not give up so easily, _____. Are you not one of the Metkayina's finest warriors?” You cannot do anything but look at her beautiful, aged face. Resignation melts over you. She’s right. But it’s not that simple. 

“That may be true, but it’s more complicated than that. He has children.” You watch him swim around, ears moving forward to catch the last echoes of his victorious laugh. “They are his priority, and I can’t get in the way of that, nor do I want to.”  They are more important. They’re the ones that truly matter. You care for them too much for it to be different. She says nothing for a long moment. Perhaps she has given up this conversation, more willing to leave you with muddled thoughts. 

“That is why you’d make a good addition to their family.” Your eyes stray to your feet and flit over the floor of the marui. “I only say this to encourage you, _____. You know I don’t take pleasure in niceties.” That is the truth. Iouna has never been one to swim around a problem, to avoid confrontation. She’s the first person you all go to for insight and advice. 

“Thank you, koakte.” (old woman) Your tone is light, but you hope your stare portrays how grateful you are to her for noticing what you feel. For pulling you out of your self-doubt. She pats the side of your arm, affectionately rubbing your skin before walking away. 

You’re so lost in thought, drifting your eyes along the glowing horizon that you fail to hear the faint splashing below you. Then, you see him. 

Jake has exchanged the tsurak for an ilu and weaved his way underneath the cropping of marui to the front of where you are standing. He looks up at you from the water, a cunning smile glinting in the light of the day. You would’ve fallen over if it wasn’t for the side of the entrance at your shoulder. 

“Ready to fly, _____?” You don't hide your smile. 

Flying is a lot more intimidating than you thought. So is Jake’s ikran. 

Its hide is similar to the blue of the ocean but speckled with a black pattern and some purple all throughout. Its wings are double the size of your body, upturned and pointed to the sky. The tips are clear and iridescent. What intimidates you the most, however, are its eyes. Two piercing, yellow orbs that cut off what excitement you had and replace it with hesitancy. 

Jake walks up to the ikran and you witness the layers of stress fall off of his face. He reaches out a hand, gliding it over the side of its face down to its neck with a familiarity that eases you. It huffs, tilting its head toward Jake like it's asking for more attention. He lets out a laugh before making tsaheylu with it. You observe its pupils dilate and gulp, digging your toes into the sand to hide the sudden nerves. 

“Hey, don’t be scared. He won’t hurt you.” You glance at the ikran, then back to Jake as if to say, ‘are you sure about that?’. He notices, then smiles. “I won’t let him.’’ 

You step forward, to which the ikran widens its wings and flaps them. The puff of air blows into your face and clinks the beads at your neck. 

“I don’t think he likes me, Jake.” He frowns, halting the movements of his hand over the ikran’s neck. 

“Skxawng (idiot), what are you doing?” Jake chastises the beast, using that low tone you’ve heard him use with Lo’ak and Neteyam. He looks at you again, motioning with his head to walk toward them. “Come here, he’s just showing off.” 

You walk toward them, much slower this time. Jake waits for you with a patient disposition. There’s thumping in your ears and it takes you a moment to realize it's your own heartbeat. The ikran does not move as you near, standing next to him. You vehemently avoid looking into its black pupils. 

“See? I told you I won’t let him hurt you.” Jake rustles around the fastening of the harness and you observe the intricate workmanship with appreciation. Omatikaya weaving is magnificent. “Now, do you want to be in the front or in the back?” 

The question causes your mind to ring. You didn’t think about how the placement would go, nor the intimacy of it. Nerves of a different kind grip you now, and you reach a hand up to fiddle with your necklace while attempting to stay calm. He’s too preoccupied with placing a rider's mask over his ears and forehead to notice. “Uhm, whatever is the safest position, I suppose.” 

He smiles again, this time with mischief. “Front it is then.” Then, he’s walking closer to you. You step back, wide-eyed. 

“What are you doing?” you question. He simply looks down at you. 

“Helping you up.” Your ears flick back, suddenly embarrassed. 

“I think I can get up just fine, Jake.” At that, his smile grows. Heat singes your nape. 

“You sure about that?” He takes a step away, shooting a sly glance at the saddle. “I’m more than happy to help.” You cross your arms, stubbornness overcoming all sensibility in your head. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” He merely steps away, that strange hair above his eyes raising. You discern the look as poorly masked amusement. His tail curls behind him, betraying the fact that he is anxious to see what you’ll do. 

“I got this.” You try to say it in the confident tone he often uses, and his eyes light with recognition at you using his words against him. 

You walk up to the ikran, placing your foot carefully on the part of the harness that juts out. A careful look at the weaving tells you that you are doing it correctly but you’re at a loss for where to place your hands. There’s nothing to grip that you can see from your placement next to the ikran’s neck. A steady, unwavering heat is at your back. You can practically feel Jake’s smile at your fidgeting. So you lay your palms flat, hoping the strength in your arms will be enough as you press up. 

It doesn’t work. 

Your palms slide back down as you land with a huff. The muscles in your leg almost give out at the impact. Two large hands hover over your shoulders, ready to catch you if needed. He says nothing, which you aren’t sure if you’re grateful for or not. Having to sit in your own stubbornness is humbling, to say the least. 

“I–,” you grumble with a huff, “I don’t know where to put my hands.” To prove your point, you lift them slightly. You avoid looking at Jake’s face and glare at the brown cords in front of you. 

“Can I help you, then?” His tone is gentle, not berating. He must know how self-conscious you are. All you can do is nod and not look back. Though, you’re sure he can see your ears fold behind your head in sheepishness. 

“Okay, sweetheart.” You’re hyper-aware of his presence and the warmth of his hands as they rest on each side of you underneath your ribs. “Put everything you got into your leg when I tell you to, then lean forward and lift the other over.” You fear the squeak that would leave your throat if you spoke, so you nod again, palms flat against the ikran’s neck. 

“Kä’ärìp.” (push) He commands, and there’s a steady pressure at your sides. You rise into the air, pressing strength into your leg as the other lifts over. Jake’s hands lower to your hips with a final push as you ungracefully settle atop the ikran.

It’s disorienting, to be sitting on a creature without the flow of water lapping around your legs and waist. There’s nothing to stop your inner thighs from brushing on the roughness of the ikran, or catch you if your strength fails to hold you upright. 

“Seysonìltsan.” (well done) The praise is unexpected. It makes you shy, glancing at him and then looking ahead with a bashful smile. You hardly deserve it considering the way you rejected his help at first, but you cannot think when you feel heat on your thigh. Looking down, you see a large hand resting above your knee. It rubs soft and encouraging pats on your skin. 

Sand feels as if it's coating your throat when you swallow and inhale a staggering breath. He’s choosing to touch you, again. Eywa, give me strength. His hand runs down your calf muscle, feather-light before holding your ankle and moving it off the stirrup. Then, he places his foot on it and mounts the ikran. 

Jake is swift and agile as he settles behind you with little effort. Your feet dangle in the air as his chest engulfs you. The ikran moves suddenly, and your legs adhere to its neck in a slight panic. You’re at a loss for where to plant your hands again and settle them in front of you. Jake is adjusting behind you, inches away. The skin of your lower lip stings from biting it. 

“You need to be closer if you don’t want to fall off mid-flight.” You flounder, unsure of what to do. Scoot closer? Lean back? “Lift your arms for me, _____.” Elbows lift from your side cautiously before he wraps a strong arm around your abdomen and tugs. 

Breath leaves you. Thoughts scramble in your mind at the feel of him pressed completely against you. Jake is larger than you, chin hovering somewhere in the space above your ears. So many things overwhelm you. The security of being tucked against him, the rise and fall of his chest that seems to sync with yours, the feverish haze that clouds your senses. Everything is on fire. 

Strong legs press on the outsides of your smaller ones as he removes his arm from your middle momentarily to grab onto the harness in front of you. 

“Hold on right here the whole time and don’t let go.” You see it, now. A sizable handle that latches onto two thick appendages on the ikran’s head, one of which is joined to Jake’s kuru to form tsaheylu. The handle wasn’t visible from your standpoint on the ground earlier. You place both hands on it, gripping firmly and reeling at how far forward you have to lean to do so. 

“There’s a ridge along its neck where your feet are dangling, try to rest your heels on it.” You hug your ankles to feel along the ikran’s chest. It’s there, and you do as instructed. Strong puffs of air tickle your lower legs as the ikran breathes. “Rest all your weight there when we fly... you’ll have to crouch to compensate for all the movement.” Leaning forward makes much more sense now that you know you’ll be squatting the whole time. 

“Okay, anything else I need to know?” The handle is no doubt imprinted on your palms from how tightly you’re holding on. His arms come around the tops of your shoulder as he grips the harness, too. But there’s not enough space, so he has to hold the outside of your hand in his. The touch grounds you and makes you less nervous to know that his strength is covering yours if you should stumble. 

“Don’t forget to breathe, _____.” His voice sounds deeper this close to your ear. The words reverberate through you. “I can feel your heartbeat… txopu rä’ä si.” (don't be afraid)

Good. He thinks the thumping in your chest is from fear. You prefer him not to know the true reason why. Him. 

“Irayo, Jake.” (thank you) You mean it, you really do. “Fäkä.” (go up/ascend)

A powerful flap of the ikran’s wings and then you are ascending into the air. It’s startling. The weighty pressure of the briny air melts onto your face. Withstanding its onslaught is all you can do for a moment until the jostling stops.

“Open your eyes.” You didn’t realize they were closed, so you do as he says. Your breath is taken away at the sight. 

Glistening, clear water stretches beneath you for an eternity. You look below to find Awa’atlu. Your kin are now dots in the water from the height difference. They are speckled everywhere. The maruis are intricately stacked next to one another, looking strangely beautiful from the sky. Like a woven brown coral reef. You want to crane your neck further behind you, but you’re pressed too tightly to Jake’s abdomen. One glance at the side of his face shows a look that seeps into you like icy water. 

He’s not looking at the horizon, or the sea below, or the sky above. No. Jake is watching you sink it all in. His gaze is ravenous. All you can do in response is let your joy show with a wonderstruck smile. 

He smiles back, and the sight is more breathtaking to you than anything else ever could be. 

A/n: What do you think of Iouna's encouragement? Or Jake's behavior in this chapter? I'd give anything to be nestled close to that man while flying into the sunset lol. Anyways, stay safe & ilysm!

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