lorre

ur favourite writer’s favourite writer | she/her 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ pan | 18 | multifandom!

[lorre-verie]

𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊'𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖉?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ welcome to my writing blog! very excited to have you here! pick any song you like (or not), sit back, and start reading to your heart's content.

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlists

rules *ೃ༄

╰┈➤ ❝ about me

requests status: OPEN AS HELL

status: active!!!!

[lorre-verie]

uhm hey....finished my mock exams!!!!

i really should stop making promises

you guys still into avatar...? respond please </3

[lorre-verie]

hey guys im so sorry 💔 after my vacation i caught a super bad illness and i literally cannot do anything, stuck in bed and i feel super tired all the time after i'm all up and okay i'll get back to posting and getting to the requests 🥹

[lorre-verie]

Hiiiii!! I just started reading your stuff and OMG I LOVE IT SO MUCH IT’S SO GOOD XD I LOVE your writing style and I’m so so hooked. I was reading the truth or dare series and IT WAS LEFT ON A CLIFFHANGER??? And just wanted to know if you are still continuing it or not?? <3

THANK YOU ANON OMG 🥹🫶

and i will my friend, i will 🫡

both my avatar series (my sanctuary and truth or dare) will be receiving their updates until theyre finished LMAO im so so sorry for leaving yall like that

I am a little worried though because rereading the series, i feel like my writing style has changed majorly over the 2-3 years but...

everything should still be fine 😅

[lorre-verie]

hey guys! i am on holiday rn so i'll be answering all my requests after i get back home.

im just making this post because someone commented something somewhere on my avatar content! when i wanted to send my reply they deleted it tho 💔

for context, they said that in my fics, true na'vi are mentioned as having thumbs when they don't, they only have 4 fingers

I really did want to respond to them so here it is under the cut!

hi yes i'm perfectly aware! it was just difficult for me to properly communicate the exact movement of their hands because of this, which is why I just said thumb.

For example on their right hand, the finger most on the left would be in place of their thumb, but I couldn't really find a good way to communicate that 2 years ago when I wasn't all that great with my writing. saying "his right hand caresses yours with his left-most finger" or something didnt really mesh well lol and i was worried some people wouldn't be able to properly visualise the movement.

It is criticism, but it's constructive criticism and I don't mind! I prefer my fics to be as canon to the lore when possible, so thanks for bringing this to my attention. I'll be sure to try and rectify that in the future!

Alright lol this is a nothing-post but happy holidays everyone! i hope the avatar fandom's still alive when I get back to writing after my vacation 💔

[lorre-verie]

i need more loak fics, i absolutely loved the one you just wrote for him. 🩷

thank youuu! and omg trust me a lo'ak series is coming! i will be inactive for the next week though because I'll be travelling 💔 hopefully the avatar fandom is still alive and well by then! i also think that MAYBE i should finish my other avatar series first lol but reading them back gives me the heebie jeebies. guess it depends!

but anyway, the loak series is a MAJOR idea that i've been sitting on for like 2 years lol. hopefully it'll be received well!

[lorre-verie]

Hiii I wanted to request something for avatar that’s been on my mind since I saw the recent movie..

Its with a human reader who’s trying to bond with neytiri because she misses home and she reminds her of her mother. (PLATONIC) 💞💞💞

Thank you sm ur writing is amazing and I’ve been following u for years😩💗

ughhhh anon!!! 🥹 thank u for the kind words and the request it genuinely made my heart hurt writing this!!! and merry xmas!!

“𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬.”

avatar - neytiri x human!reader (platonic)

summary: after Neteyam's passing, you feel like things between you and Neytiri havent been the best. and one night when you two are alone, you finally muster up the courage to speak to her again. 2.6k words.

warnings: angst to comfort, mentions of your biological mother passing, mentions of our boy neteyams death rip you sweet sweet boy....

avatar masterlist

You know how small you look behind the mask. 

It’s huge. The clear plate wraps around your face, tightened on the sides so that you can keep breathing. 

You know how different you look. 

How very human.

You sit near the corner, your legs dangling off the edge of the marui. Everything around you feels absurdly large, from the size of the woven platform beneath your palms to the vast ocean that stretches around you.

Even the air feels heavier here, thick with salt and mourning.

You feel like a child again, small and misplaced, standing somewhere you were never meant to stand.

You’ve always known you were human among na’vi.

You never felt too strongly about it before.

But now, in the wake of Neteyam’s death, the space between you and everyone else feels suddenly vast. You are no longer just a human, you are a reminder of the hands that took their loved ones.

Every glance away, every pause in conversation feels intentional, even if it isn’t. You don’t blame them. You wouldn’t want to look at you either — not when your kind is the reason grief weighs so heavy in the air.

You curl your fingers into the woven fibers, grounding yourself, and stare out at the water instead of the people who will not meet your eyes.

You catch a glimpse of Neytiri across the marui. Her posture is rigid, grief carved deep into every line of her. Her silence is edged with pain and mourning.

She sits only a short distance away, but it might as well be the width of the sea between you. 

She hasn’t looked at you much recently, and you take that as confirmation of what you already believe.

She does not like you. 

Why would she? You wear the face of the people who burned her home. 

Pink skin, you overheard her call them the other day.

Don’t jump to conclusions all the time, a woman’s voice rings in your head. Soft, warm.

You take a deep breath.

Scrrrt. Scrrrt.

Neytiri’s sharpening a weapon you don’t quite want to look at at the moment.

You shift awkwardly, fingers fidgeting against the strap of your mask. 

You’ve wanted to talk to her for days now, but every time you get close, the distance feels… deliberate. Like the waves are crashing between you both, silencing your mind each time you think to speak.

Still, tonight, something aches too much to stay quiet.

“…Is it that dull?” you ask, nodding toward the blade in Neytiri’s hands.

Your voice comes out awkward through the mask, too loud in your own ears.

“I mean,” you add quickly, “you’ve been sharpening it for a while.”

She stills. The scraping sound stops abruptly, the blade hovering just above the stone as if the world has paused with it. For a heartbeat, she doesn’t look at you at all.

“What kind of question is that, [Name]?” you think to yourself, wanting to press your palms to your head in frustration.

When you shift your body slightly—just enough to face her—you see it.

The shine in her eyes. The way moisture gathers at the lower lid before slipping free, tracing a thin line down her cheek.

She turns away almost immediately, back straightening as she wipes at her face with the heel of her hand, sharp and practiced.

The blade lowers back to the stone.

She does not answer your question.

Neytiri exhales slowly, shoulders rising and falling once, grounding herself. When she speaks, her voice is even again—controlled, distant.

“You should not sit so close to the edge,” she says instead. 

You nod quickly, heat rising to your face despite the cool air. “Right. Sorry.”

You push yourself up and then you just…stand, for a moment.

Hands at your sides. Weight shifting from one foot to the other. The night air hums around you, and suddenly you’re painfully aware of how much space you take up—and how little you belong in it.

“[Name].”

You turn a little too fast. “Yes?”

Neytiri doesn’t look at you at first. Her hands move instead, setting the blade aside and reaching for a bundle of pale fibers coiled near her knee. She lifts it, testing the strands between her fingers.

“Since you are awake,” she says, tone neutral, “you may as well make yourself useful.”

Oh.

She finally glances up, eyes sharp but no longer distant. Assessing.

“Hold this.”

She passes you one end of the fiber without ceremony. It’s lighter than you expect, cool against your palm and faintly fragrant of earth.

You take it carefully. “Uh. Like this?”

“Yes.” A pause. “No—tighter. It must not loosen.”

You adjust, fingers fumbling. The material slips, then settles when you correct your grip. Neytiri begins to weave, movements precise and practiced, her hands working in a rhythm you can’t quite follow.

You stand there like a statue, holding your end and trying very hard not to ruin anything important.

“What is it?” you ask quietly.

She hesitates just a fraction of a second.

“A marker,” she answers. “For remembrance.”

You swallow. “Right.”

Silence falls again. But it’s different now, somehow.

The fibers slowly take shape between you, strand by strand. Then you look up at her, trying not to make it obvious.

There’s a gentleness in her expression you didn’t expect, tucked beneath the sharp lines of her face. Her hands move with care, not anger. Her eyes are focused, steady.

Your hands contrast against her deep blue ones. And suddenly you’re back in that headspace again, feeling wracked with guilt. Your chest tightens—you can’t help it.

Neytiri glances up.

You look away immediately, gaze snapping back to the fibers in your hands.

The weaving slows.

Then stops.

Neytiri shifts, lowering herself onto the floor. When you notice, she is already kneeling, bringing herself level with your eyes instead of towering over you.

“Something is bothering you,” she says.

You blink. “It’s nothing.”

Her ears flick back slightly. She does not move away.

“You are holding your breath,” she replies. “And your hands are shaking.”

You glance down. They are.

You swallow, fingers tightening around the fiber. The edge of your mask presses into your skin, suddenly impossible to ignore—the seal, the weight, the reminder of what you are.

“I just—” Your voice catches. You stop, exhale. Try again. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes sharpen, not unkindly. Attentive.

“For everything my people have done,” you say quietly. “To you. To your home. To your family.”

The words feel too small the moment they leave you.

You become acutely aware of the mask then—the way it cages your face, the way it marks you as other. You wish, desperately, that you could step out of it. 

That you could be anything else standing in front of her.

Your vision blurs.

You blink once. Then again.

The fibers in your hands tremble as tears well, slipping free despite your effort to keep them back.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything,” you whisper. “I just… I needed you to know.”

The salt air fades, and for a moment, the sea is replaced by green.

Sunlight filters through layers of leaves, warm and gold, breaking into fragments as it hits the forest floor. The air is lighter here, cool and damp and alive. You can hear insects humming, distant calls echoing through the trees.

You are smaller.

Your legs are shorter. Your feet barely touch the ground as you run.

Neteyam is ahead of you, already taller, already fast, laughing as he weaves between roots and vines like he was born knowing the forest. 

Kiri follows close behind, her braids bouncing as she giggles, light on her feet and stepping carefully as to not disturb too much of the wildlife.

“Wait!” you shout, breathless, mask strapped awkwardly against your small face because you kept trying to take it off when you weren’t supposed to.

“You are slow,” Neteyam calls back, grinning over his shoulder—not unkind. 

He was never unkind.

Lo’ak stumbles past you, much smaller then, nearly tripping over his own feet before scrambling upright with a defiant huff.

“I am not!” he insists, even as he promptly falls again.

Laughter erupts—yours, Kiri’s, Neteyam’s—bright and unburdened.

Nearby, a tiny figure toddles determinedly after you all.

Spider can barely keep his balance, curls bouncing as he waddles forward, arms outstretched for stability. He makes it three whole steps before landing on his hands and knees.

No one laughs at him.

You turn back immediately, crouching beside him. “You’re okay,” you say with as much seriousness a seven-year-old can muster. “You’re doing good.”

Spider looks up at you, dirt smudged across his cheek, then beams like you’ve just told him the most important thing in the world.

Above you, from the shade of a broad-limbed tree, Neytiri watches.

Her bow rests loosely in her hands as her gaze tracks every movement from all her kids, Spider, and…

And you.

Her expression was soft then. Just a mother watching children play, knowing the forest holds them.

You wish—suddenly, painfully—that you could stay there.

That the sunlight could keep filtering through the leaves forever. That no one would grow older. That no one would be taken.

You wish you could go back.

The forest dissolves.

Green fades back into blue. The hush of leaves gives way to the distant rhythm of waves lapping against the marui. Your hands are still holding the fibers, but they’ve gone slack between your fingers.

She stills at your apology, then sets the woven strands aside. You feel her presence shift closer before you feel her touch.

Her hands settle on your shoulders.

They are warm. Firm. Real.

You flinch at first, instinctively, then go still beneath her grip.

She waits until you look up at her again.

Her eyes search your face, lingering on the edge of your mask, on the tension you’re holding in your jaw. When she speaks, her voice is low, unwavering.

“You are not your people.”

The words land carefully, as if she knows how fragile you feel.

“You are one of us.”

You swallow hard, breath fogging the inside of your mask. You nod, because speaking feels impossible right now. 

Her thumbs press lightly where your shoulders meet your collarbones—grounding, steady. Almost…protective.

It hits you then, all at once, and you don’t quite know why.

The way she stands in front of you, shielding without towering. The way her voice carries certainty even when grief weighs heavy behind it. The way she looks at you as if you’re someone who belongs.

It reminds you of your mother.

Not in the obvious ways.

Your mother had been human—soft-spoken, sleeves always pushed up, hands smelling faintly of metal and antiseptic from the lab near the forest. She used to rest her hands on your shoulders the same way when you were overwhelmed, grounding you before you even realized you needed it.

Breathe, she’d say quietly. I’ve got you.

Home had never really been the lab itself.

It had been her.

And standing here now, beneath the open night sky and woven canopy, with Neytiri’s hands steady on your shoulders, you feel that same unfamiliar sense of safety stir in your chest.

It’s not the same, but it’s close enough to ache.

You blink quickly, forcing the burn in your eyes back, focusing on the sound of the sea instead. Neytiri does not pull away. She does not rush you.

“I miss home,” you say quietly.

Your voice wobbles despite your effort to keep it steady. 

“And I miss my mom.”

The sentence feels too small for how much it holds.

Neytiri’s grip tightens—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you she’s there.

She remembers.

She remembers the day the message came, delivered in clipped, careful words by people in their white robes. 

She remembers the way you’d gone very still, and the way your hands shook when you went inside and tried to remove your mask, fumbling with the clasps.

Her voice is gentler when she speaks now.

“You were very small when you came to us with her,” she says. “Smaller than you think you were.”

You huff out a quiet, tearful laugh. “I was five, maybe.”

She clicks her tongue softly. “Still small.”

She releases one of your shoulders, gesturing vaguely as she continues, big golden eyes unfocusing just a little as memory takes over.

“You followed Neteyam everywhere. Everywhere.” There is something almost fond in her voice now. “If he climbed, you climbed. If he ran, you ran. Even when you could not keep up.”

You sniff, rubbing at your eyes with the heel of your hand. “He said I slowed him down.”

“You did,” she agrees plainly.

You let out a wet, startled laugh.

“But,” she adds, the corner of her mouth twitching, “when you tripped and scraped your knee, he carried you all the way back to the marui. Complained the entire time.”

A small laugh bursts out of you, and Neytiri allows herself a quiet huff of amusement.

“You cried very loudly,” she continues. “And when your mother arrived, she scolded him for letting you run so fast.”

Your chest tightens at the mention, but the smile doesn’t fade.

“She always thought I was going to get hurt,” you murmur. 

“You were indeed very clumsy, child,” she smiles a little bit.

You laugh again, softer this time, eyes burning as tears spill freely now. It feels strange—laughing and crying at once.

Neytiri’s hand returns to your shoulder, steady and warm.

“You were loved,” she says. “By her.”

“You are loved now,” she adds.

She doesn’t say by whom.

Maybe the truth is too much for her to speak out loud.

But you get her meaning when you finally notice the way her eyes soften when they look at you now.

She doesn’t hate you.

Not in the slightest.

You nod, breathing slowly, letting the grief move through you instead of swallowing it whole.

Neytiri studies you for a long moment.

You.

“You must not think of yourself as an outsider,” she says at last.

Her voice is strong and certain. She lifts one hand, gesturing to you as a whole.

“You may look different,” she continues. “You may breathe differently. But you were raised among the People. You learned our ways. You learned our stories.”

Her gaze sharpens in insistence.

“You are Na’vi,” she says. “And you are one of the People.”

Something in you settles at those words, like a knot finally loosening.

She steps back then, the moment of stillness passing. With a short nod toward the space beside her, she adds, “Come. Sit.”

You obey immediately, lowering yourself beside her on the marui, legs folding awkwardly beneath you.

Neytiri picks up the weaving again and places it in your hands without ceremony.

“And fix that,” she says, eyes flicking pointedly to the frayed edge you’ve been too distracted to notice. “You are pulling too hard. You will ruin the balance.”

You let out a shaky laugh, “Sorry.”

“Do not apologize,” she replies. “Pay attention.”

That’s it. That’s the affection.

You adjust your grip, carefully smoothing the fibers back into place, following her instructions. Neytiri watches for a moment, then gives a single approving nod.

“Better,” she says.

The silence that follows is no longer heavy.

It is shared.

And for the first time since the ocean became your home, you sit beside her without feeling small.

avatar masterlist

okay well 🥲 hope you all enjoyed! that's my christmas post lol i did want something more festive but I'm busy preparing to go on vacation after this so i'm sorry i can't do anything specific guys!!

as always, any interaction helps and all my reqs are open for any fandom. thank you!

much love, lorre.

[lorre-verie]

"𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐉𝐔𝐌𝐏, 𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖."

outcast!metkayina reader x lo’ak sully

avatar masterlist here

The shore outside the council space glows faintly, soft blues and greens pulsing beneath the water’s skin. It’s beautiful in a way that feels almost cruel.

Eywa’s moon shines brightly above you, gracing your cooling skin with her light.

Am I doing the right thing, mother? you wonder, before shaking your head.

She will not answer you now.

You sit at the edge of a rock near the shore, letting your feet drag through the water, toes breaking the bioluminescent algae into trembling light.

With every small movement, the glow shatters and reforms, over and over again.

You think of Payakan.

You think of the woven nets and wood encircling the council space, shielding the elders of their ignorance.

You feel the surface of the wood against your fingertips again—harder this time.

“They would rather pretend he does not exist!” you’d said in the meeting.

“They would rather let him suffer alone than admit a change needs to be made.”

Someone had shifted uncomfortably. Another looked away.

Tonowari’s voice had been calm when he answered you.

“[Name], we have heard enough.”

And just like that, the air turned cold. Tails shuffled against netting like the sound of a decision made.

The stares of your people weighed on you like the hot glare of an Akula. You balled your fists and stomped away, tail flicking against the marui in annoyance.

You look to your left hand now, grasping at sand uselessly.

A presence settles beside you, familiar even before you look.

Lo’ak drops down onto the platform with less grace than you would’ve hoped from a forest-dweller. He pulled his knees up to his chest, ears flattened against his skull. He smells faintly of salt and adrenaline and anger that hasn’t found a direction yet.

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

You sniffle, avoiding his gaze.

The water laps quietly around you both. Somewhere farther out, a ilu calls.

“They didn’t listen,” Lo’ak says finally.

You huff a humourless breath. “They never do.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I tried to say something. I swear. My dad—”

You look at him once and he stops, jaw tightening. You don’t need the rest.

Toruk Makto’s hand on his arm. A look that says not now.

You glance at him, really look — the way his shoulders are tense, the way his eyes track the water like it might explode if he stares hard enough.

“Your father stopped you,” you say flatly, turning your head towards the endless horizon of sea stretching before you.

Lo’ak nods once. “Yeah.”

The silence that follows is heavier than before.

You trail your fingers through the water again, slower this time, watching the glow bloom around your hand. “They act like defending him is a crime,” you mutter.

Lo’ak snorts. “That’s ‘cause they’re too stuck in their ways to see what’s happening right in front of them.”

“I just don’t understand,” you say quietly. “They talk about balance, about Eywa, about compassion…until it’s inconvenient.”

The water shifts as a small wave laps against the platform. Lo’ak inches closer without thinking, shoulders brushing yours.

For a moment, you’re not alone in this.

“They’ll never forgive me,” you say. “Not for speaking. Not for refusing to be quiet.”

Lo’ak turns to you fully now. “Good.”

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “Why would you want any sort of approval from people who only like you when you’re quiet?”

You let out a shaky laugh, more breath than sound.

You swing your legs harder, splashing the water. Light erupts around your feet in a chaotic halo.

“...I am an outcast,” you whisper. Almost to yourself.

Lo’ak looks at you in the moonlight.

“Then I’m an outcast too,” he says. His hand trembles near yours, as if he wants to reach out.

You turn your head to the side, meeting his stare.

“You? Son of Toruk Makto? An outcast?” you ask incredulously as if you don’t believe it, your four fingers simultaneously weaving through his five.

He sputters, wanting to respond but clearly taken aback by your gesture.

You lift both your hands, palms facing him, eyes flicking to his five outstretched fingers with a grin.

In the moonlight, his dark blue skin stands out sharply against your own softer teal, the contrast like deep ocean against a shallow reef.

“My friend, you are a thousand times more outcast then I will ever be,” you say coyishly.

For a second, Lo’ak just stares at you.

Then he lets out this surprised huff of a laugh, somewhere between a snort and a choke, jerking his hand back like the words physically hit him.

“What— That’s messed up!” He breaks off, laughing properly now, loud and unguarded, tail flicking behind him.

You look at him with a wide smile, and try not to make it obvious you’re focused on the fact that your hands are still together.

The laughter fades slowly, like ripples smoothing back into still water.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of the tide breathing below you, the faint hum of the reef glowing in and out of life. Lo’ak’s hand stays threaded through yours.

Then you swallow.

“I do not know what I will do,” you say finally, the words slipping out softer than you expect, almost fragile in the open air.

Lo’ak stills beside you, listening.

“Perhaps I will appeal to the elder tulkun myself,” you continue, gaze fixed on the water as if it might answer you. “Or maybe I will search for Payakan. Wherever he may be.”

You don’t look at him when you say it, half-expecting this to be the moment he pulls away.

Instead, his fingers tighten around yours.

Lo’ak shifts closer, thumb brushing against the back of your hand in an absent, grounding motion. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Okay.”

You turn toward him, surprised. “Okay?”

He nods once, jaw set in that familiar, stubborn way. “Wherever you go,” he says, like it’s already decided. “If you’re swimming out there, I’m not staying behind.”

“But your family—”

“I’ll deal with it.” His voice is sure.

The reef light glows brighter around your intertwined hands, reflecting off your skin in shared color, shared warmth.

Lo’ak meets your eyes then, expression earnest, unwavering.

“If you jump,” he says again, softer this time, closer, “I follow.”

The ocean shifts beneath you, and for the first time that night, the future doesn’t feel quite so lonely.

You’re an outcast.

But at least you can be outcasts together.

avatar masterlist here

AYYYYYY sorry for the super short post but i have big things planned so consider this a little taste test! welcome back avatar fandom I've been waiting for you 🫶

much love, lorre.

[lorre-verie]

Hi, first request ever kinda nervous but I had the idea of obey me brothers with a MC who is a chronic napper and sleeps everywhere, kinda like Belphegor? ^^

thank you for the request, ml! hope I did it justice! and don't worry about it being your first request <3

wc: 2.6k, warning: mostly fluffy but very brief description of Belphie killing MC (sorry)

obey me masterlist

Lucifer notices it almost immediately.

On the first week you came, he was far too busy getting a hold of his brothers, mediating Diavolo’s whims, and keeping the Devildom from collapsing into chaos... but soon enough, he notices your pattern. 

You, falling asleep at the dinner table, chin propped in your hand.

You, curled up on the stairs, notebook still open beside you.

You, dozing off during RAD lectures, somehow managing to look peaceful even as Mammon squawks about it.

It’s… familiar.

Uncomfortably so.

The first time he catches you asleep on the sofa in the common room, knees drawn up and breathing slow and even, his chest tightens before he can stop it. For just a moment, he thinks of Belphie. 

Lucifer frowns.

He doesn’t like that comparison. You are nothing like Belphegor, he tells himself firmly. 

You are human. And humans are not meant to expend their energy so carelessly. Maybe that’s why you nap so much.

Still… the resemblance lingers.

Eventually though, he gets used to the routine. After Belphie is freed from the attic (by you, no less), and the weight has left his shoulders, he accepts your habits just being in your nature.

On nights when paperwork threatens to bury him alive, when the House of Lamentation is finally quiet and the candles burn low, you sit in his office with him. Sometimes you talk about the human world, about mundane things, about nothing at all. 

Other times, your exhaustion claims you, and you curl up, cozy on the couch, as though it were second nature.

Lucifer never wakes you.

He tells himself that you’re safer here than wandering the halls half-asleep, or that interrupting your rest would be… “inefficient.”

Then he looks up from his desk and watches you for a moment.

Your expression is soft in your sleep, all the tension gone. There’s something almost strange about it, the way you rest so calmly in a house filled with demons.

…Endearing.

Lucifer swats away the voice in his head as soon as it appears.

What he does not ignore is the concern that settles in his chest over time. Belphegor is the Avatar of Sloth; sleeping is normal for him. 

But you? You’re human. You should not need sleep like this. 

One evening, he finally speaks.

“You sleep far more than humans usually do,” Lucifer says, tone measured, arms crossed as you blink awake on his couch. “Is that not…troubling to you?”

You just smile drowsily and tell him you’re a-okay, that this is just how you’ve always been.

He’s not super satisfied with that answer. But fine. 

The least he can do is ensure you’re comfortable when you nap…anywhere and everywhere, so he keeps spare blankets in his office just in case.

Mammon notices because you make him look bad.

The way you can fall asleep anywhere makes other demons stop and stare. On the couch. On the floor. Once, somehow, leaned against him. 

And every time it happens, Mammon’s the one getting yelled at.

"Why didn’t you wake them?"

"Why are you dragging them around if they’re that tired?"

"Are you using them as an excuse to skip class?"

"Mammon, don’t ya let them sleep like that! The other demons will think they’re easy prey! Blablabla, I’m Lucifer the high 'n mighty peaco—"

It’s ridiculous. Totally unfair. He’s not responsible for your weird human sleep habits.

The first time you doze off during one of his schemes, head tipping forward, breath evening out mid-sentence, Mammon panics.

“Oi—hey! MC?” He snaps his fingers in front of your face. “This ain’t funny, y’know?!”

You don’t stir.

For a horrible second, his mind goes somewhere dark and stupid, and his heart kicks painfully against his ribs. He shakes your shoulder a little too hard, calling your name louder than necessary—

Then you mumble something incoherent and shift closer to him.

He freezes. Ugh, all you stupid humans.

“…You do this on purpose, don’tcha,” he mutters weakly.

From then on, he becomes weirdly vigilant. If you yawn, he’s on you immediately. If you sit down for too long, he’s nudging you with his foot. If you start swaying, he grabs you by the sleeve.

“C’mon, c’mon, don’t fall asleep here,” he says, dragging you along. “If Lucifer sees this, Goldie is the one who’s in danger!”

But somehow, despite all that complaining…you always end up with a jacket over your shoulders. Or his arm blocking your head from hitting the table. Or him standing guard while you nap, scowling at anyone who comes too close.

When you wake up and thank him, Mammon scoffs, cheeks pink.

“Don’t get the wrong idea! I ain’t doin’ this ‘cause I care or nothin’,” he snaps. “You’re just… ah, yeah. And if somethin’ happens to ya, Lucifer’s gonna kill me.”

Levi doesn’t notice at first.

He’s too busy gaming or talking about his latest hyperfixation to register that you’ve gone suspiciously quiet beside him. It’s only when he pauses his game to explain a mechanic for the fifth time that he realises that—you’re not responding.

“…MC?”

No answer.

He glances over.

You’re asleep. Fully asleep. Head tilted forward, hands still in your lap.

“Oh. Oh no,” Levi mutters. “Did I… did I bore them to sleep?!”

He panics internally for a good thirty seconds, replaying everything he said, convinced this is proof he’s insufferable. 

Yeah, he probably starts avoiding spending time with you at first.

THEN he starts noticing the pattern. You doze off during movie nights. You curl up in the corner of his room while he’s gaming. Once, you fall asleep standing up while he’s explaining lore while you’re both in the RAD cafeteria.

“That’s… not normal, right?” he says one day, nervously. “Humans aren’t supposed to have debuffs like this.”

He googles it. Extensively. 

He definitely ends up more confused than when he started.

From then on, Levi becomes quietly accommodating.

He lowers the volume on his games when you’re nearby. Puts extra blankets within reach. Adjusts his chair so you have something to lean against if you get sleepy.

The first time you fall asleep against him, he blue-screens.

“W-Wait, MC?! I…this is—are you comfortable?!” he whispers, not daring to move.

You mumble something unintelligible and sink closer.

He doesn’t move for hours.

He tells himself it’s ‘cause waking you would be rude. Or because he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. Or because if he moves he might actually explode.

100% all three.

He’ll never say it out loud, but he likes that you’re comfortable enough around him to sleep.

Satan notices before anyone else does.

You’re very quiet about it, as one would expect. You simply fade out mid conversation or mid page.. 

One moment you’re there, engaged and thoughtful, and the next your eyes are slipping shut like your body has decided it’s done for the day.

At first, he finds it curious.

“You seem to fall asleep quite easily,” he remarks one afternoon, glancing over his book as you’re slumped beside him in the library.

“Do I?” you murmur. He can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not because your eyelids are drooping over.

“Mm. Yes. Consistently.”

He starts paying attention after that. Tracking it, mentally. How often it happens. Under what circumstances. How you always look more peaceful asleep than awake, as if rest is where you truly belong.

He doesn’t show that it worries him.

Humans require sleep, yes, but certainly not this much. 

He reads about it. Cross-references medical texts and human psychology journals he somehow gets his hands on. None of it quite explains you.

One evening, he finally asks.

“You’re not pushing yourself too hard, are you?” he says carefully, closing his book. “Chronic exhaustion can be a symptom, not a habit.”

You blink at him, then smile. “I’ve always been like this.”

That doesn’t reassure him as much as you think it should.

Still, he adjusts.

He begins choosing quieter activities when you’re around. Invites you to sit beside him rather than across from him. 

When you fall asleep leaning against him for the first time, he stiffens. Then relaxes.

He might shift his arm turning to the next page of his book, but he doesn’t move until you do.

And when you wake, blinking up at him in slight confusion, he offers you a small smile.

“Did you rest well?” he asks.

Asmo thinks it’s adorable.

Like, immediately adorable.

The first time he notices is when you fall asleep in his room, curled up among silk pillows and soft blankets, he gasps like he’s just witnessed the avant-garde.

Okay, maybe he also gasped because you promised you’d rate skincare products together, and now he’s just finding out which sleeping mask looks better on you.

“Oh my goodness,” he whispers. “You look precious.”

He snaps a picture. For himself. It never leaves his D.D.D.

At first, he assumes you’re just comfortable around him (as you should be). 

But then it keeps happening. You nod off mid-conversation. Once, you literally fall asleep while he’s brushing your hair.

“…Okay,” Asmo hums, gently setting the brush aside. “This is more than just relaxation.”

Unlike some of his brothers, Asmo doesn’t tease you for it. He pampers you.

If you’re tired, he insists on face masks, warm baths, and soft music. He drapes you in the fluffiest robes, tucks you in like royalty, and shoos everyone else away.

“Rest is the foundation of beauty,” he says seriously. “And you, darling, deserve to be radiant!”

He does worry, though. Quietly. He asks if you’re eating well. If you’re stressed. If you’re pushing yourself too hard.

After all, inner beauty is important as well!

Okay fine, and health yadayada…

When you tell him you’re just a chronic napper, he sighs and cups your face.

“Then we’ll just make sure you nap properly,” he declares. “Only Asmo-approved sleeping conditions!”

He becomes fiercely protective of your rest.

If someone wakes you up at a time he considers unnecessary, even during an RAD class, he’s offended on your behalf.

“Excuse you,” he snaps, smile sharp. “They were sleeping.”

He’s the reason why you wake up with your skin feeling cool and a fluffy neck pillow wrapped snug on your shoulders.

Beel notices right away.

He’s been with Belphegor his whole life.

The first time you fall asleep near him, he doesn’t react at all.

He just shifts slightly, careful not to wake you, and lets you rest against him.

From then on, Beel adapts without making a fuss. 

If you look tired, he guides you somewhere more comfortable and quiet. If you start nodding off, he positions himself so you won’t slump awkwardly. If you nap near him, he stays put. He tries his best.

Because Belphie used to need that too.

He does worry, though. You’re human. You don’t have the same constitution his brother does.

“You should eat something,” he says gently, placing a snack in your field of vision as soon as he notices you rubbing your eyes of sleep.

Sometimes, if you nap alone, you wake up with a blanket tucked around you and food within arm’s reach. You never see him do it.

If anyone complains, Beel shuts it down immediately.

“They’re tired,” he says simply, tone firm in a way that leaves no room for argument. “Let them sleep.”

When you apologise—because you usually always do—he frowns.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says simply.

There are moments when he watches you sleep and his chest aches with familiarity. 

That was before Belphie came back.

Now, you and Belphie often nap together.

Couch naps. Floor naps. Window naps. Belphie sprawled out like a cat, you tucked in close without even thinking about it. Sometimes you fall asleep first. Sometimes he does. Most of the time, it doesn’t matter.

Beel doesn’t really comment on it.

The three of you end up together more often than not. You and Belphie asleep in a tangled heap, Beel sitting nearby with a bag of snacks, chewing quietly so he doesn’t wake you.

It feels right.

Belphie adjusts around you instinctively, arm thrown over your waist, chin resting on your head. He makes a disturbed sound if you move too much, pulls you closer if you drift away.

Beel keeps track of the both of you. Mostly of you. Of how long you’ve been asleep. Of whether you’ve eaten. Of whether you’re breathing evenly.

To Beel, you’ll always be fragile.

Every now and then, Belphie cracks one eye open and looks at Beel.

“They’re fine,” he mutters, voice thick with sleep.

“I know,” Beel replies with a mouth full of cupcake.

Belphie snorts and closes his eyes again.

Two people Beel loves, asleep and safe in front of him.

It reminds him of when they were angels. When Belphie used to sleep curled up beside him, and Beel stayed awake just to make sure nothing went wrong.

Now, there’s you too.

It unsettles Belphie how much you remind him of himself.

He remembers your heartbeat stopping under his hands.

The way your body went limp.

The way you never fought him.

The guilt doesn’t come crashing in. It seeps. Slow. Heavy. Suffocating.

“…Idiot,” he mutters one night, his blanket half-fallen off your shoulder. He doesn’t know if he’s talking about you or himself.

Probably both.

He thinks back on that night sometimes as you’re napping peacefully in his arms.

How could he have done that to someone who was so much like him?

To someone that he cares so much for now?

…He never lets you sleep alone if he can help it.

You nap together constantly. It becomes a thing. You fit against him easily, like you’ve always belonged there. Your breathing evens out faster when he’s there. He pretends not to notice.

But he does.

Oh, and you two are found sleeping in the weirdest places.

Lucifer finds the two of you asleep on the couch, fine. Manageable, maybe a little bit cute. He throws a blanket over you and moves on.

Then he finds you asleep in the library. Belphie sprawled across an armchair, you curled up on the floor with your head on a stack of books.

Okay, fine.

It gets worse.

Mammon stumbles into the hallway one afternoon and nearly trips over the two of you asleep on the stairs.

“What in tarnation—!” He stops himself mid-yell. You both don’t budge. He sighs. Steps over you.

Levi once walked into his room to find you two asleep in his bathtub, one of his limited-edition dakimakuras sacrificed as a cushion.

He stands there for a full minute.

How’d you guys even get in here??

The final straw is when Lucifer opens the front door and finds both of you asleep on the front steps.

Outside.

At night.

“…Why,” he asks the universe quietly.

At this point, no one even tries to stop it.

They just adapt.

Blankets appear everywhere. Cushions migrate mysteriously. The brothers have learned to step over you, around you, or just accept that the House of Lamentation is now 40% nap zones.

And the dreams—

Belphie slips into your dreams gently, carefully, like he’s handling something fragile. He bends them softer. Warmer. He gives you quiet skies, endless fields, familiar comfort. 

When you stir, frowning slightly, he presses his forehead to yours.

“Sleep,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

You trust him.

That’s the part that hurts the most.

One night, half-asleep, you mumble, “You’re warm…”

His eyes open.

Then, slowly, carefully, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer.

“…Yeah,” he whispers back, eyes burning, voice barely steady.

“ ‘M not letting anything happen to you again.”

obey me masterlist

hope you enjoyed!! and sorry some parts were longer than others. any interaction helps! oh, and merry christmas eve to those that celebrate!

much love, lorre.

[lorre-verie]

"𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐉𝐔𝐌𝐏, 𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖."

outcast!metkayina reader x lo’ak sully

avatar masterlist here

The shore outside the council space glows faintly, soft blues and greens pulsing beneath the water’s skin. It’s beautiful in a way that feels almost cruel.

Eywa’s moon shines brightly above you, gracing your cooling skin with her light.

Am I doing the right thing, mother? you wonder, before shaking your head.

She will not answer you now.

You sit at the edge of a rock near the shore, letting your feet drag through the water, toes breaking the bioluminescent algae into trembling light.

With every small movement, the glow shatters and reforms, over and over again.

You think of Payakan.

You think of the woven nets and wood encircling the council space, shielding the elders of their ignorance.

You feel the surface of the wood against your fingertips again—harder this time.

“They would rather pretend he does not exist!” you’d said in the meeting.

“They would rather let him suffer alone than admit a change needs to be made.”

Someone had shifted uncomfortably. Another looked away.

Tonowari’s voice had been calm when he answered you.

“[Name], we have heard enough.”

And just like that, the air turned cold. Tails shuffled against netting like the sound of a decision made.

The stares of your people weighed on you like the hot glare of an Akula. You balled your fists and stomped away, tail flicking against the marui in annoyance.

You look to your left hand now, grasping at sand uselessly.

A presence settles beside you, familiar even before you look.

Lo’ak drops down onto the platform with less grace than you would’ve hoped from a forest-dweller. He pulled his knees up to his chest, ears flattened against his skull. He smells faintly of salt and adrenaline and anger that hasn’t found a direction yet.

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

You sniffle, avoiding his gaze.

The water laps quietly around you both. Somewhere farther out, a ilu calls.

“They didn’t listen,” Lo’ak says finally.

You huff a humourless breath. “They never do.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I tried to say something. I swear. My dad—”

You look at him once and he stops, jaw tightening. You don’t need the rest.

Toruk Makto’s hand on his arm. A look that says not now.

You glance at him, really look — the way his shoulders are tense, the way his eyes track the water like it might explode if he stares hard enough.

“Your father stopped you,” you say flatly, turning your head towards the endless horizon of sea stretching before you.

Lo’ak nods once. “Yeah.”

The silence that follows is heavier than before.

You trail your fingers through the water again, slower this time, watching the glow bloom around your hand. “They act like defending him is a crime,” you mutter.

Lo’ak snorts. “That’s ‘cause they’re too stuck in their ways to see what’s happening right in front of them.”

“I just don’t understand,” you say quietly. “They talk about balance, about Eywa, about compassion…until it’s inconvenient.”

The water shifts as a small wave laps against the platform. Lo’ak inches closer without thinking, shoulders brushing yours.

For a moment, you’re not alone in this.

“They’ll never forgive me,” you say. “Not for speaking. Not for refusing to be quiet.”

Lo’ak turns to you fully now. “Good.”

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “Why would you want any sort of approval from people who only like you when you’re quiet?”

You let out a shaky laugh, more breath than sound.

You swing your legs harder, splashing the water. Light erupts around your feet in a chaotic halo.

“...I am an outcast,” you whisper. Almost to yourself.

Lo’ak looks at you in the moonlight.

“Then I’m an outcast too,” he says. His hand trembles near yours, as if he wants to reach out.

You turn your head to the side, meeting his stare.

“You? Son of Toruk Makto? An outcast?” you ask incredulously as if you don’t believe it, your four fingers simultaneously weaving through his five.

He sputters, wanting to respond but clearly taken aback by your gesture.

You lift both your hands, palms facing him, eyes flicking to his five outstretched fingers with a grin.

In the moonlight, his dark blue skin stands out sharply against your own softer teal, the contrast like deep ocean against a shallow reef.

“My friend, you are a thousand times more outcast then I will ever be,” you say coyishly.

For a second, Lo’ak just stares at you.

Then he lets out this surprised huff of a laugh, somewhere between a snort and a choke, jerking his hand back like the words physically hit him.

“What— That’s messed up!” He breaks off, laughing properly now, loud and unguarded, tail flicking behind him.

You look at him with a wide smile, and try not to make it obvious you’re focused on the fact that your hands are still together.

The laughter fades slowly, like ripples smoothing back into still water.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of the tide breathing below you, the faint hum of the reef glowing in and out of life. Lo’ak’s hand stays threaded through yours.

Then you swallow.

“I do not know what I will do,” you say finally, the words slipping out softer than you expect, almost fragile in the open air.

Lo’ak stills beside you, listening.

“Perhaps I will appeal to the elder tulkun myself,” you continue, gaze fixed on the water as if it might answer you. “Or maybe I will search for Payakan. Wherever he may be.”

You don’t look at him when you say it, half-expecting this to be the moment he pulls away.

Instead, his fingers tighten around yours.

Lo’ak shifts closer, thumb brushing against the back of your hand in an absent, grounding motion. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Okay.”

You turn toward him, surprised. “Okay?”

He nods once, jaw set in that familiar, stubborn way. “Wherever you go,” he says, like it’s already decided. “If you’re swimming out there, I’m not staying behind.”

“But your family—”

“I’ll deal with it.” His voice is sure.

The reef light glows brighter around your intertwined hands, reflecting off your skin in shared color, shared warmth.

Lo’ak meets your eyes then, expression earnest, unwavering.

“If you jump,” he says again, softer this time, closer, “I follow.”

The ocean shifts beneath you, and for the first time that night, the future doesn’t feel quite so lonely.

You’re an outcast.

But at least you can be outcasts together.

avatar masterlist here

AYYYYYY sorry for the super short post but i have big things planned so consider this a little taste test! welcome back avatar fandom I've been waiting for you 🫶

much love, lorre.

[lorre-verie]

AVATAR FIC IDEAS STAT

please PLEASE gimme!!! my mac just started working again (thank eywa) sooooo

drop your ideas or requests in the comments of the post or in my inbox i will write like a MADMAN

and yeah i'll write for anyone babes 😛

avatar masterlist here

[lorre-verie]

guys istg im not doing this on purpose my mac is having issues 💔

but anyways if I can find a way to make this work I'll be posting avatar + arcane content soon TRUSTTT just pray for this damn connection 🥹

[lorre-verie]

just watched the new avatar movie...

[lorre-verie]

GUYS WHAT THE FUCK IT HASNT EVEN BEEN 5 MINUTESSSS WHY ARE WE SO FREAKED OUT ALREADY....

[lorre-verie]

girl where is part three of the jinx fic??? 😭

omg PLEASEE lol bear with me im taking like a month's hiatus cause im in what everyone is telling me is the most important phase of my life (applying for unis + final exams at the same time) swear tho ill be back in december 🥲

[lorre-verie]

everyone ring the fucking church bells i'm sat

[lorre-verie]

i love ur brains and ur works😻😻😻😻😻😻 ur writing for Caitlyn is sooooo good 😻😻😻 i would soo happie to see more (no pressure) 😻😻love ya 😻😻😻😻💜

awwwh thank you so much anon! 🥹 so happy to hear that! 🩷🩷🩷

i usually try to keep my writing as canon as possible for Cait so im glad you're liking it!