okay your recent nanami w/ the audio porn drove me CRAZY and bc im always looking for new audios i listened to (all of π³) augustinthewinter and π€π€π€π€ just wanna thank you for putting me on to him. i was curious though (if you feel comfortable enough to answer, if not please ignore!!!) do you have any other nsfw audio recs??
ahhh thanks so much for reading it! And YES! He is AMAZING! So happy you listened to him, he is my absolute FAVORITE.
and honestly, I'm thrilled you asked because I LOVE talking about this stuff!
Besides August, I really like BloomingVA (aka Bloom). Here's a link to his Masterlist. My personal favorites are:
Using You as a Fucktoy in Front of Our Friends (reddit link, 18+), so you can view the proper warnings - I love this one because he speaks Portuguese in it and it's HOT HOT HOT. Also, voyeurism, if you're into that (which I didn't know I was until I listened to this LOL)
Making You Watch (reddit link, 18+) - Pleasure dom and mirror sex, need I say more?
Another VA I like is hereyesonly. Haven't listened to their entire masterlist yet, but I particularly love this one: Safeword turns into loving shower sex (reddit link, 18+). He's got a beautiful, deep voice and the sound effects are top tier.
Enjoy! ;) and if any of my mutuals/followers have any other recs, please feel free to add it in the comments!
Youβre perched on Loβakβs waist like you were made to sit there, thighs snug around him, his whole body going loose and warm under you the moment you lean in and kiss him. And kiss him again. And again. Every single one landing wherever your mouth decidesβhis cheek, the corner of his lips, the dip beneath his eyeβuntil heβs already laughing under his breath, all flustered, all helpless, and so, so yours.
βYβknow youβre perfect, right?β you murmur into the soft skin above his eyebrow before pressing another kiss there. And another, slower. His ears twitch and flatten in that way that gives him away instantlyβhe tries to bite back a smile and fails miserably.
βCβmon,β Loβak wheezes with a laugh, his hands hovering at your hips like heβs not sure if holding you tighter will make this better or worse for his self-control. βWhyβre youβwhyβre you kissinβ my eyebrows, what is thisββ
But your mouth is already on him again, peppering kisses across the slope of his browbone like itβs your favorite place in the world. βBecause theyβre cute,β you say between kisses, gasping out the words like heβs the one overwhelming you. βYouβre cute. So handsome. My pretty boy.β
His blush deepens so fast itβs almost funnyβbright and impossible to hide. Loβak turns his face away like a pointless attempt at shielding it, but you just follow him, giggling, catching his jaw and guiding him back so you can kiss the other eyebrow too.
He actually whines. A soft one. Breathless and sweet.
Your fingers slip into his braids, tuggingβjust enough to make him gasp, just enough to make his hips jolt beneath you. And Eywa, the sound he makes when you do it goes straight through you, warm and dizzying, and he smiles up at you like heβs trying to keep himself from melting entirely.
βStopβyouβre gonna kill me,β he laughs, but itβs that breathless, half-choked kind of laugh that means he wants more. Needs more. βYouβreβfuck, youβreββ
But you cut him off. You tilt forward, chest brushing his, hair falling around both of your faces like a little curtain, and you grab one of his handsβthose big, calloused four-fingered handsβlifting it just enough to kiss each finger one by one.
Loβak swallows so hard you feel the movement under your mouth when you lean down to kiss the inside of his wrist. βWhatβre youβbabyβwhyβre youββ
βBecause I love your four fingers,β you say, kissing the next finger. βI love you.β Another kiss. βI love everything about you.β And another, right at the knuckle, soft enough to make his breath hitch. βPretty boy.β
His tail thumps uselessly against the floorβheβs trying to play it cool, he always tries to play it cool, but you can feel how his body shifts beneath you, how his muscles tense and release like he canβt decide whether he wants to grab you or completely surrender to you.
You tug his braids again, just a little, and he groansβa low, shaky noise that makes your stomach twist.
Then youβre kissing him againβhis forehead, his temple, the tip of his nose. Quick little kisses, scattered everywhere. So many that he starts laughing under you, breathless and deep violet and unbearably flustered.
βLook at you,β you hum, brushing your lips over his cheekbone. βMy sweet boy.β
βBro, IβmβIβm literally gonna combust,β he stammers, hands finally finding your hips, gripping them like he needs to steady himself. βYou canβt justβjust kiss me everywhere and say stuff like that.β
But you already are. And he already loves it.
You kiss him again, right over that spot on his eyebrow that made him jolt the first time. He shivers.
βYeah,β you whisper against his skin, smiling. βI can.β
Loβakβs laugh comes out ruined, breathless, and so full of affection it makes your chest ache. βSkxawng (idiot),β he says, but heβs pulling you closer, nuzzling into your touch, letting you spoil him like itβs the only thing heβs ever wanted.
And judging by the way he looks up at you; flushed, grinning, so stupidly in love, maybe it is.
βπ Μ. lo'ak brainworms are strong rn for me.
A/N | eeee this idea is based on my 1k heart event on my other account. so not original, but i thought it'd be funny!! this was supposed to be way longer, and originally nsfw but i just love fluff i'm sorry!! also, one of my beta readers told me i write too much, and my paragraphs are too long, so tell me if my writing is better in this!!
SYNOPSIS | for years ao'nung thought he could keep his feelings about you buried. but when someone starts to court you, and you turn to ao'nung for advice, he realizes he should've said something sooner.
Your words fluttered across the tidepool like startled fish, bright and quick, brushing his ear before drifting away. You had been rambling for so long that your own excitement lifted your tail off the sand, your knees hugging the edge of the woven net, your fingers dancing as you described every detail of your new admirerβs courting gifts. Aonung had stopped tying knots three minutes ago, though you didnβt notice. His hands moved, yes, but slower, clumsier, the twine twisting wrong beneath his thumbs.
He lifted his gaze. His eyes were a deep storm, unreadable at first glance, but the longer you watched, the more the irritation swirled beneath the surface.
βI hear you.β His voice was flat, clipped, a shell with its pearl removed. βYou speak loud enough for the whole village to hear you.β
Your breath hitched. βMa Aonung, I am asking you for advice. You are the one who knows how courting works.β You nudged his calf with your heel, playful, oblivious to the tension winding up his spine. βHe brought me a carved tide-stone this morning. With a woven cord! Lookββ You held it up to the sun. βIt caught the light like the scales of an ilu. My chest feltβ¦ heavy. I do not know how to explain it.β
Aonung clicked his tongue, sharp as a blade touching bone. βI see the stone.β
βYou do not sound impressed.β
βI am drowning in awe,β he muttered, tugging a knot so tight the twine snapped. His jaw flexed. A vein pulsed faintly at the edge of his temple. βTruly, I have never seen such a unique gift. A stone. A cord. My heart breaks under the weight of such romance.β
You blinked, ears tilting forward. βAre you teasing me?β
βYes,β he snapped. βBecause you are being ridiculous.β
A wave surged behind you both, its foam crackling across the sand. You watched him carefully, confusion tightening your brow. His tail thumped once, irritated, scattering sand across your shin.
You sank down beside him. Your thigh brushed his. The contact startled him more than it should have, but he hid it with a scoff.
βMa Aonungβ¦ you always help me. Why are you acting like this?β
His breath left him in one long, disgruntled rush. βBecause I do not want to hear you praise a man who cannot even choose a proper gift. That stone is dull.β His nose wrinkled. βThe cord is poorly braided.β
Your mouth fell open. βIt is not! It is beautiful.β
βIt is not beautiful,β he insisted, voice rising with the tide. βIt is the kind of thing boys give when they want to impress without trying.β His gaze cut sideways, sharp as a spearpoint. βDoes he even know what colors suit your skin? What scents you like? Does he know the way your voice changes when you are proud?β His tone curled, frustrated. βI doubt he knows any of that.β
Warmth crept up your cheeks. You stared at him, startled by the force behind his words. βI did not know you paid that much attention to me.β
He stilled. Every part of him froze except for his throat, which bobbed with a hard swallow.
βWe grew up together,β he said, voice lower now, wary, guarded. βIt is notβ¦ strange that I notice these things.β
βI suppose not,β you murmured, though your heart fluttered at the intensity in his gaze.
Aonung grunted, returning to the net. Knots formed beneath his hands with the speed of practiced irritation. βSo. What do you want from me? Advice on how to smile at this man? Advice on how to tell him you like his ugly stone?β He flicked sand from his fingers. βSpeak, or let me finish this net in peace.β
βI want to know if I should accept his next visit,β you said quietly. βHe said he wished to take a walk with me at sunset. It made my stomach flutter.β
Aonungβs head snapped toward you, ears pushing back hard enough to show the tension along their base. βYour stomach fluttered,β he echoed, tone dripping with disbelief.
βYes. It feltββ You paused, hunting for a word, refusing the vague. βIt felt like a wave rising inside me, it wasβ¦ bright. I liked it.β
Aonung shut his eyes.
His fingers curled around the net so tightly the cords groaned.
βIf your stomach is fluttering,β he said, voice thin with patience he did not have, βit is probably hunger. Eat before you speak nonsense.β
You shoved his shoulder. βAonung!β
He shoved back, gentler than he pretended. βDo not make that sound at me. I am telling you the truth.β
βYou are being mean.β
βI am being honest.β His gaze snapped to yours again, blazing now. βHe does not deserve you.β
Your lips parted. βWhy not?β
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Exhaled, slow, frustrated, like the truth was clawing up his throat and he was shoving it back down with both hands.
βHe isβ¦ boring,β he finished lamely, flicking his tail with irritation at his own weak landing. βYou would fall asleep listening to him talk about canoes. The man has the voice of a dying txursum (cuirass crab).β
You snorted despite yourself. βA dying txursum?β
βYes. A txursum whose spirit has already left its body.β
You laughed harder. His expression brightened for half a secondβjust a sparkβbut the moment you mentioned your suitor again, that spark died.
βSo you think I should refuse him?β you asked.
βI think you should stop talking about him before my ears fall off.β
βBut I need helpββ
βYou need to stop asking me about a courtship you already seem ready to leap into,β he threw back, voice rising. βWhat do you want me to say? βOh yes, go with him, let him tie his weak cord around your throat and call you his mateβ? Is that what you want to hear?β
Your breath caught. βIβ¦ I did not know you felt so strongly.β
He turned away sharply, jaw locked so tight it trembled. βI do not feel strongly. I feel annoyed. There is a difference.β
His tail gave him away before anything else. It lay stiff behind him, every line drawn tight with jealousy he refused to name.
You leaned closer, studying his profile; the stubborn line of his mouth, the tension braced in his shoulders, the faint flick of blue across his cheekbones where irritation flushed his skin darker.
He avoided your eyes.
You touched his forearm lightly. His breath hitched.
βAonung. Tell me truth.β
He shook his head once. βYou do not want my truth.β
βI do.β
βNo, you do not,β he repeated, a low snarl simmering beneath the words. βBecause my truth is that you are too excited. Too blind. Too eager to believe the first man who smiles at you. You do not see the way others look at you. You do not seeββ His voice cracked, just once, a thin fracture in his armor. He bit down on it immediately. βForget it.β
You waited.
He did not look at you.
He tied another knot, too tight again, the cord squeaking.
βAonung?β
Silence.
You tried again, softer. βMa txeylan (bestie), I need your guidance.β
He huffed through his nose. βI am not your father.β
βNo. You are my closest friend.β
That sentence struck him harder than a crashing wave. His shoulders rose as if bracing through pain. His breath left him in a quiet, defeated rush.
His next words emerged low, as if he was holding it together.
βDo not accept his courting gift until you think carefully,β he said. βNot because I forbid it. Because a mate is chosen with the heart, not the flutter in your belly.β His eyes, finally, lifted to yours. They burned. βMake sure the man who holds your heart understands it. Has earned it.β
Your pulse skipped.
βAonungβ¦ you look upset.β
βI am not upset.β
βYou are definitely upset.β
He shook his head violently. βI am annoyed at this net.β
βThe net did not mention my courting gift.β
βIt might as well have.β
You study him, realization trying to claw its way into your mind, but you shove it back. Of course Aonung did not like you that way. Of course you were imagining the warmth in his eyes. He was your friend. He was always protective.
He looked at your hands.
He looked at the tide-stone at your throat.
He looked away, as if the sight hurt.
When he finally spoke again, his voice had softened to a whisper at the edge of the waves.
βBe careful with your heart,β he murmured. βIt is delicate. Not everyone deserves to touch it.β
You smiled, touched by his sudden gentleness. βI knew you would give good advice.β
Aonung grimaced, frustrated that you had taken his heart-cracking warning as friendly counsel.
βYou hear nothing,β he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
βWhat was that?β
βNothing,β he sighed.
You returned to your netting with a newfound sense of excitement, humming under your breath about sunset walks. Aonung listenedβunwillingly, painfully, helplesslyβbecause he always listened.
Your marui felt too small for your breath, too warm for your pounding pulse, too loud with the frantic shuffle of wraps and beads hitting the woven floor. You had tossed half your clothing into a messy pile; turquoise chest wraps, soft teal cloth, darker ocean-dyed pieces, strips decorated with small shells that clattered against each other like restless teeth. Nothing looked right. Everything felt wrong. The light outside had begun shifting toward late-afternoon gold, the shadows lengthening, the breeze picking up with the promise of sunset.
It left you with an hour.
One hour before your suitor arrived with his carefully practiced smile and his impeccable posture and his carved tide-stone that you insisted was beautiful, even though Aonung had practically snarled at the sight of it.
Your hands trembled as you held two chest wraps side by sideβa soft seafoam one, and a deeper blue that shimmered faintly when tilted. The deeper one would bring out your eyes. The lighter one made your shoulders look elegant. Or maybe neither did. Maybe the problem was not the wraps at all but the tightness in your chest whenever you imagined your suitor waiting outside your marui with a patient tilt of his head.
The thought of Aonungβs reaction had been much louder.
He had snapped so easily. He had glared at the tide-stone as if it were carved from poison. He kept tying knots wrongβAonung never tied knots wrong. He could weave a net blindfolded, half-asleep, upside down if someone asked him. He always teased you, yes, always pushed and nudged and smirked in that infuriating way of his, but the moment your feelings were tangled, he knew how to soften, how to guide with a steadier hand.
Lately, his hand trembled whenever this suitorβs name left your mouth.
You dropped both wraps and reached for another, the coral-pink one with the shells stitched along the hem. It looked lovely in the glow of your lantern, but you held it up to your chest and grimaced. Too festive.Β
Your tail flicked in irritation as you threw it aside and sank to your knees. The pile of wraps slumped like a defeated animal.
Aonung was never like this with you. Never short, never brittle, never so quick to let irritation bleed through his voice. He might tease until your ears went hot, but he had always been the one you went to when your heart tangled itself in worry. He always listened. He always had advice; sometimes blunt enough to sting, sometimes surprisingly thoughtful. Sometimes he would tilt your chin just slightly and say, βDo not fear. You are stronger than you think.β
Back when you were children, he had been the first to help you climb the high roots near the mangroves. You had been afraidβyou remembered the way your legs shook when you stood on the lowest branch. Aonung had snorted, grabbed your wrist, and tugged you up with ease. βStop trembling,β heβd said, though there had been no real annoyance in it. βThe branch will not bite you.β
Later, when you fell into tidewater during an eel migration and came out sputtering, embarrassed, he had laughed so hard he nearly toppled in after youβyet he had still wrapped his own cloth around your shoulders when you shivered and walked you home, proud as if he had been the one to defeat the waves.
His presence always felt steady. Unshakable. Like the salt-stone pillars on the shore.
So why did he look ready to bite the head off your new admirer?
Your fingers slipped over a deep cerulean loincloth, softer than the rest. You paused, the fabric draping over your knees like a memory. This was the cloth Aonung had gifted you two years ago after teasing you for outgrowing your old training set. Heβd thrown it at you with a grin too big for his face, announcing, βHere. You run around so much your old one was crying for mercy.β You had worn it for weeks, even though its color was bold and drew attention.
Aonung had liked how it looked on you.
At the time, you didnβt think twice.
Now your stomach fluttered. An entirely different flutter than the one you felt when your suitor smiled. This one carried an ache beneath it, soft and confusing. You traced the cloth with your fingertips, smoothing the edges where the weave had loosened over time.
Aonung had so much experience. Many sought him. Many flirted. Many tried to court himβsome with gifts of rare stones, others with elaborate braids or intricate bracelets. He brushed most away with the flick of a wrist, confident and disinterested, except for the occasional brief courtship that never lasted long. People adored him. Admired him. Swooned over him.
Yet he had never once looked as irritated as he had today.
You pressed the cerulean cloth to your chest, feeling its familiar texture. The light caught the worn fibers, turning them almost silver at the seams. It reminded you of that afternoon he helped you fix your ilu saddle, his hands brushing yours more often than they needed to, the sun painting his skin with bright flecks of turquoise. He had smiled at you, but not the smirk he wore with the boys, not the smug grin he used on people who flirted too boldly. The smile had been soft. Warm like the shallow tide.
You shook your head quickly, as if the movement could scatter every thought of Aonung like startled fish disappearing beneath the waterβs surface. You shouldnβt be thinking of his stupid grin or his sharp tongue or the way his eyes softened when he thought you werenβt looking. He was being a jerk today. A massive jerk. His attitude alone shouldβve been enough to drive his face far, far from your thoughts.
It didnβt work.
A frustrated sigh escaped you as you dug into the pile of wraps again, determined to force your attention elsewhere. Eventually your fingers closed around an intricate weave youβd been saving for a future celebration: a piece dyed in layered blues and sea-greens, patterned with shell-thin stripes that shimmered when the fabric shifted. It suited you. It felt elegant, but not loud. Confident, but not showy. You paired it with a tewng woven with slender cords and small beads that chimed softly when you moved.
Perfect. Or close enough.
You dressed carefully, tying each knot with hands that refused to stay steady. The wrap hugged your ribs, flattering the lines of your shoulders, and the skirt settled against your hips with a gentle weight. You turned toward your polished shell-mirror, scrutinizing every detail. Nothing looked wrong, exactlyβyour skin glowed beneath the soft light, your posture straightened, but your pulse beat too quickly, chiming against your throat.
Your hair became the next enemy. You tried a high tail. Too formal. You let it fall free. Too wild. You braided a single strandβtoo plain. You tried twoβno, too childish. You tugged everything loose again and groaned under your breath. Your fingers kept returning to a style Aonung once teased you about, saying it made you look like a reef-singer perched on a cliff, head held proud as a paβli mare. At the time, you had shoved him into the water for that comment.
Yet you braided your hair that same way now.
The strands framed your face in a gentle sweep, the braid looping behind your ear and joining with another near the back. It lifted your features, drew attention to your eyes, and settled against your shoulders with a whisper of movement. You added a few small shells for detail, their pale glow tracing the curve of your cheek.
You inhaled deeply.
You exhaled shakily.
You were ready.
β¦at least, physically ready. Your mind was a very different story.
Your feet began carrying you back and forth across the marui before you even realized you were moving. The woven floor creaked beneath your steps, every pass stirring the woven curtains and brushing the lantern cords.
Your hands fidgeted at your wrap, then dropped. They lifted to your braid, then dropped again. Your tail flicked an erratic rhythm behind you, its tip tapping the floor as though knocking on your own nerves.
βWhat am I doing,β you muttered to yourself, pacing another length. βWhy am I acting like a hatchling? It is just a walk at sunset. Just a man who wants to court me.β
You forced yourself to stand still.
The stillness lasted four seconds.
You resumed pacing.
You could already imagine footsteps heading toward your maruiβsteady, confident, unhurried. Reytan walked like someone who never doubted where he was going. And of course heβd call your name in that gentle tone he always used around you, chin lifted just a little, that tiny smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. He really was a nice guy. Strong, too. The kind of warrior mothers pointed at and whispered approvingly about. Heβd pulled three hunters out of a rip current last season. Aonung liked himβwell, liked him enough to spar with him, joke with him, maybe shoulder-bump him after training.
So why did thinking about Reytan coming to get you make your stomach pitch like youβd swallowed a handful of live crabs?
You pressed a palm to your middle, leaning forward slightly, breathing like you were seconds from throwing up. Great. Amazing. Perfect start to your first courting walk ever. You needed advice. You needed someone to tell you to get your shit together. You needed your friends, but every single one was off doing something extremely inconvenient.
Tsireya: busy with tsakarem duties and absolutely not someone you could barge in on with βhey, Iβm panicking, help.β
Loβak and Neteyam: dragged into the forest to get yelled at by Jake for whatever new stunt Loβak pulled.
Kiri and Spider: almost certainly tucked somewhere behind a curtain of roots kissing until their lips fell off.
Rotxo: training young warriors and way too earnest to handle this without accidentally making you cry with a motivational speech.
Which left⦠no one.
Except your pulse did this stupid little jump, like it already knew where it wanted you to go.
Aonung.
Because of course it did.
You hated that. You absolutely hated that your brainβs emergency exit door was shaped exactly like his faceβsmug glare, sharp cheekbones, annoying smirk and all. He was the last person you should run to right now. Heβd been a complete asshole earlier. Heβd nearly snapped a net in half because you said Reytanβs name. Heβd practically hissed at the tide-stone offering like Reytan carved it from rotten meat.
But you knew his routine as well as you knew your own heartbeat. When the village slipped into pre-eclipse calm, when the breeze cooled and the water flattened into a dark mirror, Aonung always disappeared to that patch of rock near the shallows. Alone time. Quiet time. Breathing practice. His whole βclear mind, steady heartβ routine his mother drilled into him as a kid.
Youβd found him there onceβyears agoβwhen he was a little shorter, a little softer, sitting with his knees pulled up and his fists balled tight like he was trying to hold himself together. You had dropped beside him without asking, not touching him but close enough that your elbows brushed. You copied his breathing until he calmed down. You never talked about it again.
Somewhere inside you, something twisted hard.
You looked at your reflection one last timeβwrap neat, tewng straight, hair just the way youβd styled itβand none of it made the terror in your chest ease up. In fact, the more put-together you looked, the more your panic sank its teeth in.
You needed help.
Real help.
From someone who knew you, not just liked you.
Your mind fought it. Really, it put up a whole battle, but the truth shoved its way through anyway;
You needed Aonung.
You needed the one person who always, infuriatingly, saw through every version of you without trying. Even when he was being an absolute jerk. Especially when he was being an absolute jerk.
You stood there for a long moment, breathing too fast, hands shaking at your sides. You thought about every other option. None stuck. None felt right.
Fine.
Fine.
Okay.
Before you could overthink yourself into oblivion, you bolted out of your marui. Your feet hit the walkway in a mad, uneven rhythm, braids bouncing against your back, the shells in your hair chiming with every frantic step. The sky burned behind you, violet creeping into the horizon. Your breath came out in sharp little bursts, like your lungs were tripping over themselves.
You headed straight toward the shoreline, weaving past woven platforms and small groups preparing their evening meals. The world blurred around you; voices, torches, fading laughter until all that existed was the path leading to that quiet rise of rock where he always went.
Your stupid heart hammered harder the closer you got, each beat louder, more insistent, screaming words you refused to even consider. You tried to focus on forming a plan, something to say, anything that wouldnβt make you sound pathetic, but your mind was a churn of tangled thoughts that all overlapped and dissolved before you could grab one.Β
By the time you even attempted to rehearse an opening line, your feet had already carried you down the narrow sand slope toward the shallows. The air shiftedβcooler, quieter, cleanerβand only then did you blink yourself back into the moment.
Aonung was right there.
Cross-legged on his favorite flat rock, spine straight, shoulders loose, palms resting on his knees. The ocean reflected the skyβs last colors around him, turning the shallows into a sheet of molten violet. He lookedβ¦ peaceful. Completely lost in the slow rise and fall of his breath. You froze at the sight, every instinct screaming at you to turn around, run back to your marui, pretend you came out here for a walk and absolutely not because you were about to cry over a date like a fool.
But you were here.
You were already too close to pretend otherwise.
Your steps carried you forward before you consciously agreed to it. You came to a halt a few paces from him, hugging your elbows, staring at him because looking anywhere else felt impossible. Aonung didnβt move, but you felt the shift. He had sensed you coming long before you arrived. His breathing didnβt falter, yet something in the angle of his ears had changed, tilting just slightly, tracking you.
He finally opened his eyes.
A flashβthere, gone in an instantβsurprise flickering across his face like a spark catching on dry bark. It startled you how unguarded it was. It startled him too, apparently, because he crushed it into an unimpressed scowl so fast it was almost comical. His chin lifted a fraction. His tail twitched. He stared at you with that signature what are you doing here look he used whenever Loβak walked into a room.
Silence stretched between you. The kind that grew heavier with each passing second, thickening until you felt it pressing on your chest. Aonung clearly expected you to say something, anything, but your tongue had become useless. He waited with the patience of someone who absolutely did not have patience, which only made your stomach twist harder.
When you still didnβt speak, he exhaled sharply through his nose. βSoβ¦ what?β he muttered, eyebrow lifting. βYou come all the way out here just to stare at me like a lost eel?β His tone was light, but the edge was unmistakableβsnide, defensive, his usual default whenever he didnβt understand what you were doing.
You flinched.
Your breath stuttered out of you, shaky and shallow, and your vision wavered for a moment before you blinked hard. You werenβt cryingβat least, you didnβt want to be crying, but the tears gathered anyway, blurring the line of his shoulders, the shimmer of the water behind him. Your throat tightened. You swallowed. Nothing came out.
Aonungβs eyes widened.
It wasnβt big, not even dramatic, but enough to betray that he had not expected that. His whole posture changed in a heartbeat. His tail froze. His ears shot forward. His hands hovered uncertainly mid-air before he forced them back to his knees, like touching you might be illegal.
βWaitβwhat?β His voice pitched upward, unsteady. βNo, no, heyβdonβt do that. Donβtβ¦ donβt look like that.β He grimaced, scrambling for words. βI wasnβtβI didnβt meanβIβm notβskxawng (idiot), okay, that came out wrong.β
You let out a tiny, wet laugh. It slipped out without your permission, a sad little sound that made your shoulders shake once.
Aonung froze again.
He stared at you like youβd just cracked open in front of him, exposing a part of yourself heβd never seen, and he wasnβt sure if he was supposed to touch it or run away from it. His mouth parted, closed, parted again, like he kept trying to say something and abandoning the thought right before it escaped.
You wiped at your eyes with the back of your wrist, still sniffling, still trying to breathe through the mess of emotions tangled in your chest.
Aonung leaned forward a fractionβnot enough to invade your space, just enough to show he wasnβt going to sit there and watch you cry like some heartless brute.
βGreat,β he muttered under his breath, but his tone had softened significantly. βNow youβre laughing and crying. Thatβsβ¦ thatβs perfect. Thatβs exactly what I needed tonight.β
You huffed another shaky laugh, wiping your nose. βSorry.β
βYouβre not sorry,β he shot back, but without any real heat. βIf you were sorry, you wouldnβt be crying on my meditation rock like aββ He cut himself off so abruptly it almost hurt the air around him. βNever mind. Forget that.β
Your lips twitched. βA jerk?β
Aonung groaned into both hands. βEywa.β He dragged his palms down his face, peeking between his fingers with a mix of panic and resignation.Β
You breathed out, uneven but calmer than before. The weight in your chest loosened. The sunset breeze shifted, rustling your braids, carrying the faint scent of saltwater and damp stone.
Aonung lowered his hands, eyes finally settling on you with concern.
βAlright,β he said, voice low. βWhat happened?β
Your breath left in one shaky rush. βMa Aonung, my heart feels like it is going to leap out of my chest,β you blurted, hands fluttering near your ribs. βThis is my first courting walk, the first time a warrior has offered me attention, real attention, and Reytan wants to take me out on the water at sunset, and I should be excitedβactually, I am excitedβbut my thoughts are crashing into each other and my stomach feels as if it is turning in circles and I do not know how to breathe correctly or walk correctly or exist correctlyββ
βI know it is your first,β he muttered.
Your ears angled toward him. βDo not interrupt me,β you murmured, side eyeing him sharply before your panic dragged you forward again. βReytan is strong, and kind, and he looks at me like I am a woven lantern glowing in the dark. I know that should make me feel steady, but I feel like a fish trapped in a net, thrashing because every piece of this is new and bright and terrifying.β
Your feet began to trace circles in the sand. One tight turn. Another. Your arms moved with you, gesturing wildly as your breath hitched. βThis is a real courtship. I could become his mate. My life could change. Eywa, I do not even know what cloth to wear, and I tried three different hair styles, and none of them looked right, and I almost cried over a braidββ
Aonung pinched the bridge of his nose, shoulders tensing with each frantic step you took. βCalm your breath.β
βI cannot!β You spun around so sharply the shells in your hair clacked together. βOf course you do not understand. You are Aoβnung of the Metkayina. You have warriors lining up to braid your hair. You barely need to lift your eyes, and three people trip over themselves to offer you gifts. You do not know what it feels like to be this nervous.β
His head snapped up, ears rigid. βDo not speak as if I walk through the village collecting hearts like shells,β he protested. βThat is notββ
βYes, it is!β You jabbed a finger toward him. βYou have had so many chances to choose a mate that I have lost count. I have had none. This is all new to me, and you sit there with your perfect breathing, judging me as if I am foolish for shaking apart.β
Aonung opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again with more heat. βYou are putting words in my mouth. I did not judge you. I only told you to breatheββ
βYou scoffedββ
βI did not scoffββ
βYou did,β you insisted, taking a step back from him as the waves lapped at your heels. βYou looked at me as if my fear annoyed you.β
His jaw tightened, tail flicking once in irritation. A rebuttal rose in his throatβsharp, defensive, but it died the moment he saw your eyes glisten again. The shift was immediate. His whole face softened in alarm, ears lowering, gaze darting over you like he was checking for wounds.
Aonung stood with a suddenness that startled you, sand scattering around his feet. His hand shot forward, catching your wrist before you could whirl away again.
βCome here,β he said steadily. He tugged gently, guiding you down beside him on the flat stone he had been meditating on. The warmth of his palm lingered against your skin as he released you, his breath a low hum meant to settle, not scold.
Your knees bent beneath you, settling into the sand. The world felt quieter at his side, though your pulse still rattled against your ribs. Aonung angled his body toward you, not close enough to crowd you, but close enough that you felt the weight of his attention, the heat of it settling against your skin like sunlight after a storm.
βSit,β he murmured again, softer now. βLet your breath steady. I am here.β
You obeyed before you had the chance to wonder why. Your legs folded beneath you with a faint rustle of sand, and when you settled beside him, the world felt a little less tilted, the horizon a little less sharp. The ocean breathed in slow, rhythmic pulses behind you and for a moment, you let the tide pull your breath into its pace.
Your gaze lifted toward him. Aonung was watching you from the corner of his eye, his posture deliberately relaxed, though the tension at the base of his neck betrayed him. You swallowed, heat collecting in your cheeks, and forced your voice into something resembling calm.
βForgive meβ¦ I should not have spoken to you that way.β
Aonung shrugged, but this one wasnβt mocking. His shoulders rose with a slow breath, dropped with gentleness, as if he were brushing the whole moment aside, not because he didnβt care, but because he didnβt want you to feel embarrassed.
βNo harm,β he said quietly. βYour heart was loud.β His lips twitched, not quite a smile, but something close enough to warm your chest. βYou are allowed to shout when your spirit twists itself in knots.β
You blinked at him. Your ears tilted forward, waiting. The silence stretched only a few seconds, but it was enough for Aonung to see the expectation in your eyesβthe plea for guidance you hadnβt spoken aloud. His throat bobbed once. He inhaled as if preparing for a long dive, and he turned fully toward you, knees shifting in the sand so his body aligned with yours.
βMa lenomum 'aw (curious one),β he exhaled, staring briefly at the ground before forcing his gaze back to your face. βYou wish to know how courtshipβ¦ feels.β
βIt would help,β you admitted, your voice small but steady. Your fingers twisted the edge of your wrap, coaxing courage from the fabric.
He hesitated. His jaw flexed once, a small sign of resistance, but it melted when he saw the earnest attention in your eyes. Aonung was many things; proud, boastful, impossible at timesβbut he had never been able to ignore you when you truly needed him.
He shifted again, folding one leg beneath him and resting an arm casually over his knee, making himself comfortable despite the discomfort pressing beneath his ribs.
βCourtship,β he began, sounding as reluctant as if youβd asked him to swim through a net of stinging jellyfish, βis never one thing. It is not just gifts or walks or showing off like fool warriors do. It isβ¦ learning the breath of another.β He tapped his chest lightly. βHere. The rhythm.β
Your eyes widened, caught by the tenderness threading through his tone.
Aonung cleared his throat, almost sounding irritated with himself for letting vulnerability slip. βWhen someone courts you, they watch you. Not in a sneaky way,β he added quickly. βIn a way that says, βI know your steps. I know the shape of your smile. I know which shells you choose, which currents you like to swim.ββ
His gaze flicked toward the water, expression softening with memory. The light caught his profile, highlighting the faint flush beneath his cheekbones.
βYou will feelβ¦ noticed,β he continued. βSeen. Like the world stops shifting under your feet when they stand near you.β
You leaned in, completely enraptured. βHas it always felt that way for you?β
He huffed, rolling his eyes skyward for a moment. βDo not make this about me.β
βI was only asking,β you murmured, though your tail flicked in quiet amusement.
His own swayed once behind himβa betraying gesture he likely didnβt intend. The corner of his mouth twitched again, and he looked away briefly before returning to the lesson youβd demanded.
βCourting walks,β he said, steadying his voice, βare meant to show trust. You follow the steps of another. If your heart feels ready, you let them lead the path.β His fingers brushed the sand, drawing idle shapes. βA sunset walk means the suitor wishes to see you in quiet light, without noise from the clan. He wants you to feel ease with him.β
Your breath caught faintly. βReytan chose the sunset.β
βHe would,β Aonung muttered, not quite hiding the grunt in his tone. βHe likesβ¦ gestures.β His nose wrinkled in mild disdain. βWarrior show-offs.β
A laugh bubbled out of you, light and soft, easing the tightness in your chest. βHe is not showing off.β
βHe is always showing off,β Aonung countered flatly. βEspecially around you.β
Your cheeks warmed. The realization left your mind fluttering, as if a ripple ran beneath your skin. βHe does try to impress me,β you admitted. βI can feel it.β
βThat is not a bad thing,β Aonung replied, though his expression turned oddly tight. βA suitor should want you to feel treasured.β
You looked down at your hands, tracing an invisible line along your palm. βI want tonight to go well. I want to know what to do. How to walk beside him without tripping over my own feet. How to speak without my voice shaking. How to breathe without feeling as if my ribs have turned to stone.β
Aonungβs eyes slid over your featuresβyour parted lips, your tense shoulders, the faint quiver in your breath. His voice softened further than before, almost hesitant.
βYou will walk with him the way you walk with the tide,β he murmured. βLet the current guide you at first. You do not need to impress him. That is his task.β His tail tapped the stone once, firm. βYours is simply to be open.β
You frowned slightly. βHow does oneβ¦ be open?β
He blinked as if the question surprised him, though he recovered quickly. βLift your eyes. Do not hide your thoughts. If you feel joy, let it show. If he says a foolish thing, laugh. If he offers his arm, take itβ¦ but only if you wish to. Courtship is not a trap.β
Your breath steadied. The shivering in your shoulders faded. The space around the two of you warmed, despite the cooling air. Aonung watched your chest rise and fall, relief settling into him when he saw the panic finally loosen its grip.
βYou make it sound easy,β you whispered.
βIt is not meant to be easy, it is supposed to be honest.β he replied quietly.Β
Your pulse fluttered at the honesty of his words. He saw itβyour surprise, the hope flickering through your eyesβand for a moment, Aonung looked as though he wished he could take half of it back. His tongue pressed against his teeth, searching for balance.
βYou will do well,β he said at last, voice low, steady, and unmistakably sincere. βReytan will be fortunate to walk beside you.β
Your breath caught again, though this time not from fear.
βThank you, ma Aonung,β you whispered, leaning closer without fully realizing you were doing it.
His ears lifted in response.
βIβ¦ mm.β He cleared his throat fiercely. βYes. Of course.β
Your smile bloomed without hesitation, warm enough to make your cheeks ache. You reached out and gave his knee a gentle squeeze, your fingers pressing into the firm muscle beneath his skin. Aonung rolled his eyes in the most dramatic, long-suffering arc imaginable, though the corners of his mouth tugged upward despite his best efforts. His tail gave a tiny flickβbetrayal he didnβt notice, but you did.
Your giggle bubbled up before you could stop it, soft and airy, spilling into the quiet shallows around you. The sky above still held its pale gold light; you had time before sunset bled into full color.
Curiosity lit your eyes. You tilted your head, studying him. βWhat was your first courtship like?β
He groanedβloud, theatrical, a suffering animal noise so deep it could have come from the bottom of the ocean. His head tipped backward as if Eywa Herself had dropped a boulder onto his skull.
βWhy?β he demanded, dragging a hand over his face. βWhy must you do this to me?β
You squeaked when he reached out and pushed your face away with the flat of his palm. It wasnβt rough, only a practiced shove, the way he always did when your questions poked at the edges of his pride. You grabbed his wrist immediately, swatting him as you laughed.
βStop that! I am being serious!β
βThat is the problem,β he muttered, though the faint grin tugging at his lips betrayed him instantly. βYou are always serious at the worst possible moments.β
βIt is not fair,β you insisted, leaning in and poking his bicep with far more force than necessary. βYou hide your whole love life from me.β
His ears snapped upright. βLove life? Who said there was a love life?β
βOh, please,β you teased, scooting closer until your shoulder brushed his. βYou have had so many suitors I cannot keep track. You cannot pretend none of that ever happened.β
βI can,β he said, βand I will.β
You clasped your hands dramatically beneath your chin. βMa Aonung, I beg you. Tell me. Just one story. Only one. I want to learn. You said I must understand how courtship feels, so teach me.β
He stared at you with an expression that could only be described as exhausted disbelief. The look said: Great Mother, take me now.
βYou are relentless,β he murmured.
βYes,β you replied proudly. βNow speak.β
His head fell forward in defeat. A low growl rumbled in his chest, more embarrassed than angry, and he raked his fingers through his curls with a sharp exhale. For a long moment, he sat there absolutely still, as if he could delay the story through sheer force of will.
Finally, he spoke.
βFine. If you must hear itβ¦ then listen.β
Your back straightened, eyes wide, tail swishing behind you like an excited pupβs.
Aonung shot you a glare for the tail movement alone, but he continued.
βShe was a fisher,β he began, voice lower than before, steadier. βOlder than me by two seasons. Strong arms, quick hands. She carved her own hooks from bone and taught younger hunters how to tie the deep-water knots. The whole village praised her.β
Your brows rose. βShe sounds impressive.β
βShe was,β he admitted through gritted teeth. βThat was the problem.β
You had to bite your lip to hide your grin. Aonung pretended not to notice and kept talking.
βShe asked for a courting walk. I did not expect it. I thought she was interested in someone else. But one day, she gave me a woven charm for luck and invited me to walk by the tide pools.β
His gaze drifted to the horizon, eyes softened by memory. A rare look on him.
βI agreed. Of course I agreed. She was skilled, respectedβ¦ beautiful.β
Your breath caught, but you didnβt interrupt. Your knees tucked closer beneath you as you listened.
βWe walked near the reef. She spoke about the migration of the tsurak (skimwing) and how the currents were changing. I barely heard any of it.β His ears angled back slightly. βI kept thinking she was too far above me. That I could not match her skill. That she would see through me and decide she chose wrong.β
The confession surprised you so much your mouth fell open. Aonung? Insecure?
He noticed your expression instantly.
βStop looking at me like that,β he snapped. βI was young.β
βYou were sixteen,β you reminded him, βnot a baby.β
βSixteen is practically a hatchling.β
You snorted. βIf you say so.β
He rubbed his temples, muttering a curse under his breath before continuing.
βWhen the walk ended, she stood before meβvery close. Closer than you are now.β His throat tightened, the tips of his ears flushing faintly. βShe touched my jaw. Pulled me down. Kissed me by the tide pool.β
The world seemed to still around the two of you. Your breath left your chest in a quiet, stunned exhale.
βShe kissed you?β you echoed.
βYes,β he deadpanned. βDo not sound so shocked.β
βI am not shocked,β you saidβway too quickly to be believable.
His brow arched. βLiar.β
βNo!β you protested, swatting his arm.
He caught your wrist before you could pull away, holding your hand with a steady, gentle pressure. The touch burned warm against your skin, and your voice faded without warning.
Aonung watched you for a moment, something unreadable stirring beneath his gaze. He released your wrist slowly, as though it weighed more than he expected.
βThat was my first,β he said quietly. βA good memoryβ¦ but not the one Eywa meant for me.β
Your chest tightenedβnot with jealousy, not quite, but with a strange ache you couldnβt place your finger on.
βWhat happened after?β you murmured.
βShe realized her path led elsewhere.β Aonung shrugged again, though this one carried a flicker of sadness. βWe remained friendly. It was not a poor ending. Some hearts meet only to drift apart.β
You let the words sink into the air between you.
Aonungβs voice lowered, almost thoughtful. βA first courtship does not decide your future. It merely shows you how your spirit responds when another reaches for you.β
Your heart thudded against your ribsβslower this time, steadier, guided by his calm.
βThat is why,β he added, eyes catching yours, βyou must let yourself feel tonight.β
You nodded so fast your braids brushed your shoulders. His words poured into you like warm tidewater, steadying everything that had been shaking loose inside your chest. You soaked in every syllableβhow his voice dipped when he spoke of trust, how his gaze held yours without wavering, how he offered guidance even when you knew it embarrassed him. The more he talked, the more your nerves smoothed, the more your breath eased.
βYou areβ¦ surprisingly insightful,β you said, a little breathless, a smile tugging at your lips.
Aonung made a face like you had insulted three generations of his ancestors. His hand darted out and pinched your side sharply, enough to make you yelp. βDo not speak foolishness,β he grumbled.
You giggled, batting his hand away. βTruly! You speak like a tsahΓ¬k in training. Maybe the next life, you will be tsahΓ¬k instead of oloβeyktan.β
His entire expression twisted into dramatic offense. βMa Eywa, take this skxawng away from me,β he muttered, shoving your shoulder just enough to make you wobble. βLeave me. Go prepare your face or your hair or whatever you must do. I helped you, so now I am free from your torment.β
You shoved him back lightly. βYou are so dramatic.β
βYou are so irritating,β he countered, though his grin betrayed him. βGo. Or I will drag you to Reytan myself and throw you at him.β
Your laughter came bright and genuine. Yet beneath the humor, gratitude bloomed full and warm in your chest. You leaned forward, letting your voice soften. βIrayo (thank you), ma Aonung. Truly. You helped more than you know.β
He rolled his eyes hard enough to shake the tide. βYes, yes. Go before you start crying again.β
βYou arenβt funny,β you said, rising to your feet.
βWhatever,β he replied, shooing you away with a flick of his wrist.
You turned toward the path leading back to the village, ready to walk away, ready to breathe through the nervousness and follow Aonungβs advice.
Three steps formed beneath your feet before a thought slammed into you hard enough to stop you mid-stride.
Your entire body went still.
Your breath stopped.
She kissed him.
Your ears lifted in alarm. You spun around so fast your braids whipped your cheek.
He had just begun to settle back into his meditation posture when he froze. His eyes narrowed the moment he saw your expression. βWhat now?β
βShe kissed you?β you blurtedβloud, too loud, voice cracking under the weight of the revelation. βAt the end of the walk?β
Aonung blinked. βYes? I said that.β
You stared at him, horror dawning across your features. βSoβ¦ Reytanβ¦ he mightβ¦ he mightββ Your voice shrank to a strangled whisper. βHe might kiss me?β
Aonungβs brows shot up.
Then down.
Then up again, as if he genuinely could not find a stable reaction to your panic.
βPossibly,β he said slowly. βIf he is bold. Or if your heart invites it.β
βMy heart?β Your voice squeaked. βMy heart is barely staying inside my body!β
You clutched your head with both hands, pacing in a tiny frantic circle in the sand. βNo. No, no, no. I cannot kiss him. I do not know how to kiss. I have never kissed anyone. My mouth will doβ Eywa, I do not even know what my mouth will do! What if I miss? What if I hit his nose? What if I knock our teeth together? What ifββ
βYou areβare you serious?β Aonung stood so quickly sand kicked up around him. His tail stiffened behind him in what looked very much like alarm.Β
βI do not know how to kiss!β you wailed.
βYou do not need lessons!β he countered, stepping closer, hands half-raised like he feared you might fall apart entirely. βIt is instinct.β
βMy instincts are terrible!β
βThat is true,β he muttered under his breath, then yelped when you smacked his arm.
You paced harder, clutching the sides of your face, your pupils blown wide in pure terror. βWhat if he leans in and I forget how to move? What if I make a strange sound? What ifβwhat if he thinks I am awful at it and changes his mind about courting me?β
Aonung stared at you as though you had sprouted a second head.
βDo not look at me like that!β you cried.
He pressed his hand to his forehead, dragging his fingers down in agony. βGreat Motherβ¦ you are going to faint.β
βI might!β
βYou will not faint.β
βI will faint!β
Aonung grabbed your shoulders before you could spin yourself into the ocean. His grip was steady, firm, anchoring you like a pole driven deep into the sand. His breath came low and sharp. βEnough. Stop. Stop pacing, stop shouting. Look at me.β
You froze.
Your chest heaved.
Your eyes lifted to his.
Aonung swallowed and softened his tone to something that wrapped around your panic like calming hands on your spine.
βKissing,β he said carefully, βis not a performance. No one wins a hunt because they kiss perfectly. No one chooses a mate because of the angle of their mouth.β He stepped closer, easing your shoulders down from your ears. βIt is simply an exchange of breath. Two spirits meeting for a moment.β
You stared up at him, wide-eyed, trembling.
He continued, voice barely above the sound of the tide.
βIf Reytan kisses youβ¦ it will not be a test you must pass. It will be curiosity. A quiet joining. That is all.β
You stared at him, chest tight, breath trembling, and shook your head so fast your braids tapped your collarbones. βMa Aonung, no. No. Those words do nothing. They are too pretty. Too calm. My brain does not feel calm. My brain feels like a nantang (viperwolf) swallowed it and chewed.β
Aonung blinked. βThat isβ¦ dramatic.β
βYou have kissed many people,β you accused, jabbing a finger at his chest. βSo you do not get to talk like you are some untouched flower of the reef. You have practice.β
His mouth fell open. βPractice?β
βYes!β you nearly shouted. βDo not pretend you do not know what I am talking about! You have kissed Neteyamββ
βThat was a dare!β Aonung exploded, ears shooting upright in horror.
βStill counts,β you said, crossing your arms. βAnd there were all those girlsβSΓ€ri, Lonu, Reiaruββ
Aonung spluttered. βThose were greetingsββ
βYou had your tongue in Reiaruβs mouth!β
βThat isβnoβwhatββ
βYou did!β your voice climbed to a pitch that wasnβt sustainable for living creatures. βI walked in on you two by the storage racks! I was looking for shell twine and nearly fell over a basket because the two of you wereββ
βGreat Mother!β he barked, dragging both hands over his face in mortified agony. βWhy must you remind meβwhat does that have to do with anything? Why are we speaking of that right now?!β
βBecause I need real advice,β you said, louder than you meant to, because your chest was tightening again, and the sky was getting darker, and your pulse felt like it was trying to punch its way out of your ribcage. βNot poetic breathing. Not βjoinings of spirit.β I need to know what to do. You have experience. I do not. Teach me.β
His expression went blank in that way it did whenever he refused to engage with utter madness. βI am not giving you advice on how to kiss another man.β
βWhy not?!β
He lifted both hands helplessly. βBecauseβwhy would Iβno! That is notβno!β
You grabbed his shoulders and shook him, not hard, but frantic, your voice breaking. βYou are my best friend! My day one! The one who helped me climb roots and taught me how to hold my breath underwater and carried me home when I sprained my ankleβwhy will you not help me now?β
Aonung stared at you, lips parted, breath caught somewhere in his chest. His hands rose as if to steady you, but he stopped halfway, fists curling uselessly in the air.
His voice cracked when he spoke.
βDo you want me to kiss you?β
The question struck like a spear thrown too close. The world seemed to pause; air thinning, tide whispering, your heartbeat lurching in a single, wild leap. Aonung looked just as startled as you, as though his mouth had betrayed him, releasing a truth dug too deep to remain buried.
His pupils were blown wide, fixed on yours. His breathing had gone shallow. His tail, usually expressive, hung still behind him.
He did not take the words back.
He didnβt blink.
You didnβt blink either.Β
The world narrowed to the space between his eyes and yours, a tight, breathless thread you couldnβt seem to cut. Your pulse hammered in your ears, louder than the tide, louder than your own thoughts.
βAonungβ¦β you whispered, throat tight. βDo not joke like that.β
His expression sharpened. He lifted his hand and flicked your foreheadΒ with clear irritation. βI am not joking, skxawng.β
You jolted back, rubbing the spot. βOw! You cannot justβwaitβwhat do you mean youβre not joking?β
His jaw ticked. βI mean,β he said slowly, like he was guiding a child through a shallow reef, βI will kiss you.β
Your entire body seized.
βKissβkiss me?β The words tangled together on your tongue. βYou? No. No, absolutely not. You areβ you are icky, Aonung. Your lips? No. No thank you.β
He stared at you like you had personally offended the spirits.
βIcky?β he repeated, voice dangerously soft.
βYes!β you squeaked, pointing an accusing finger at his mouth. βThose lips have been everywhere!β
His ears folded back sharply. βEverywhere?β he echoed, tone rising. βWhat do you imagine I do in my free time?β
βYou! Kiss! Everyone!β you accused, each word punctuated with another frantic gesture. βYour mouth is likeβlikeβpublic water!β
Aonung recoiled. βPublicβ? You littleββ
He cut himself off, inhaled sharply through his nose, and narrowed his eyes until they were thin slits of blue fire.
βMy lips,β he said, each syllable chosen like a weapon, βare not icky. They are not public water. They areββ
βI do not want to hear this,β you yelped, slapping your hands over your ears.
Aonung grabbed your wrists and pulled them down immediately. βYou asked for advice. I am giving advice.β
βI asked for help, not for you to put your mouth on me!β
βYou said you needed to learn!β
βI did not mean with you!β
βYou said I was your day one!β
βThat does not mean you get to lick me!β
βWho said anything about licking?!β
βYou will!β you cried, jabbing his chest again. βYou always do!β
βThat is slander!β he barked back.
The two of you were practically nose-to-nose now, breathing hard, eyes blazing like two children fighting over a toy neither of you wanted to admit you loved. Your tails flicked wildly behind youβyours with panic, his with something far more explosive.
He leaned in just a fraction, lips pressed into a furious line. βSay I am icky again.β
You opened your mouth without hesitation. βYou areββ
His hand shot up, covering your lips before the word escaped.
Your breath stopped.
So did his.
For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Aonungβs palm was warm against your mouth, his thumb resting at the corner of your lips, his fingers splayed along your cheek. His eyes flicked down, just once, before snapping back up as if caught by his own betrayal.
Heat roared up your neck.
He swallowed, throat bobbing visibly.
βDo you want me to kiss you?β he blurted again, louder than before, voice cracking around the edges.
You stared at him, wide-eyed, mouth parted. He stared back with the raw, unguarded panic of someone who had stepped off a cliff before checking the depth of the drop.
His hands hovered near your waist, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat of them.
Your heartbeat tumbled wildly.
Your voice trembled.
βYes,β you whispered. βIβ¦ please.β
Aonung blinked like heβd been struck. His breath caught, shoulders lifting a fraction before dropping again in a slow, cautious roll. His ears flicked downward in a jittery tremor you had only ever seen when he didnβt know what to do with his own feelings. He bit his lower lipβtoo quick to be intentionalβand tore his gaze away from you as if the sand might offer answers. A muttered curse slipped from him, low and frustrated, and he shook his head sharply.
βThis is crazy,β he said, though his voice lacked its usual bite. It sounded strained instead, stretched thin by disbelief. βTruly, you have lost your mind.β
Your heart didnβt bolt the way you feared it would.Β
Instead, you stared at him and quietly reminded yourself that this was Aonung. Your childhood best friend. The boy who once let you braid shells into his hair even though he pretended to hate it. The one who dragged you out of tidepools when you slipped, who pushed you back in when you annoyed him, who stuck to your side through every season of your life. This wasnβt strange. It wasnβt forbidden. It wasnβt romantic. He didnβt look at you like that. He didnβt feel like that. He was being a good best friend, offering guidance the same way he had taught you how to hold your breath underwater or balance on a moving ilu without falling into its wake.
Yet your cheeks burned, hotter than the sunset glow brushing your skin. You didnβt know why shyness crept into your limbs now, tightening your chest, making your voice softer than the tideβs whisper. You watched his jaw flex, his throat work, and your pulse fluttered in a rhythm that startled you.
βYou are a good friend,β you said gently, searching his face for reassurance, for steadiness, for anything that would ground this unfamiliar heat swirling inside you.
He didnβt answer. He didnβt nod, didnβt shrug, didnβt offer a single sarcastic remark. His silence stretched between you, filling the air with a tension that made the tiny hairs on the back of your neck lift. Instead, he let his hands rise slowly to rest on your waist.
The contact hit you like warm current against chilled skin. His palms were broad and firm, fingers curving around the lines of your hips as though settling into familiar terrain. It wasnβt possessive, but it wasnβt casual either. His touch held intention, anchoring you as though he feared you might drift away before he spoke again.
Your breath quivered. You lifted your gaze, finding his darkening eyes fixed on yours. Their intensity made your knees soften, though you remained seated; his hold saw to that.
βThis wonβt be weird,β you murmured, your voice barely above the low hush of the tide. βIt is justβ¦ lessons. Like when you taught me how to breathe underwater.β
Aonungβs expression flickeredβone brief, fragile moment where every guarded part of him seemed to crack open beneath the weight of your trust. His brows drew together, not displeased, but conflicted, as though he walked a tightrope and wasnβt sure which way he would fall if he lifted his foot.
His hands tightened slightly at your waist,Β making your pulse throb where his fingers pressed into your skin. His breath brushed your cheek, warm and uneven, revealing just how not-calm he actually felt.
βIt is not the same,β he murmured finally, voice low, voice rough, voice barely holding itself together. βThis is not breathing lessons.β
You swallowed hard and leaned in despite his warning, despite the tremor in your stomach, despite the strange, rising warmth that made your chest feel too small. You needed guidance. You needed understanding. You needed him.
βShow me anyway,β you whispered.
His ears flattened, his pupils widening as though a wave had just surged beneath his feet. Aonung searched your face once, twice, his breath tightening. βAre you sure?β he asked, voice low enough that the breeze nearly stole it.
You nodded.
His brows pinched together. βAre you truly sure?β
Your nod came quicker this time; eager, earnest, almost desperate to close the space between you.
Aonung swallowed, throat moving visibly. A deep breath expanded his chest as he steadied himself, as though bracing for a dive into cold water. He shifted closer, the warmth of his body moving into your space, his knees brushing yours, his hands still firm on your waist. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped further, carrying a heaviness you felt down your spine.
βA kiss starts before lips touch,β he murmured. βYou look. You wait. You give the other a chance to lean away. It is respect. It is asking without words.β
His face hovered close enough that you felt the warmth of each breath, the faint brush of air against your cheek. Your heart pounded. Your fingers curled against your thighs. The closeness did not frighten youβit pulled you in, held you captive, made you forget every thought except the sound of his voice and the sharp, focused intensity in his eyes.
βYou meet halfway,β he continued, gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again. βSlowly. The first touch should feel like a question.β
You were so focused, so utterly absorbed that he had to snap you out of your trance with a soft click of his tongue.
βMaβ¦,β he breathed, βI am going to kiss you now. Okay?β
Your hum was a whisper of sound, small and trembling, but completely certain.
Aonung drew in one final breath, steadying himself. His fingers tightened just slightly at your waist as he leaned in, closing the remaining gap.
His lips met yours with a care you had never imagined from him. The touch was warm, soft, deliberateβso gentle you almost didnβt feel it at first. His lips molded to yours in a slow, tentative brush, an unspoken is this alright? woven into the contact. He didnβt rush. He didnβt take. He moved with a patience that sent a shiver down your spine, his breath mixing with yours, the faint scent of saltwater clinging to his skin.
Your hands rose instinctively, fingertips grazing the firm line of his shoulder as he kissed you againβslightly deeper, still slow, still careful. The world narrowed to the shape of his mouth, the warmth of him, the steady anchor of his hands holding you in place. His lips moved with measured pressure, coaxing you to follow, guiding you without words.
The kiss stretched on, Aonungβs lips learning yours in quiet, thoughtful touches. He angled his head the slightest bit, deepening the connection with a tenderness that made your breath stutter. Heat fluttered low in your belly. Your pulse climbed into your throat. You leaned in without meaning to, wanting more of that warmth, that softness, that sense of safety wrapped in a single point of contact.
Halfway through the kiss, something bold flickered inside you. You wanted to match his pace, wanted to prove you could respond the way a real partner would, wanted to give back what he was giving. You lifted your chin to deepen the kissβtoo fast, too eagerβand your forehead collided hard with his.
A solid thunk echoed between you.
Aonung jerked back instantly, eyes wide, hand flying up to his head. You gasped, clutching your own brow where the impact still vibrated. The kiss shattered. The air rushed between you in a startled silence.
For a heartbeat, Aonung just stared at youβstunned, breathless, motionless.
Then his expression cracked.
A sound burst out of him, sharp and bright, and then he doubled forward with laughter. Not a small chuckle. Not a polite laugh. A full, uncontrollable, shoulders-shaking, head-thrown-back roar of amusement that echoed across the shallows.
βOh Great Mother,β he gasped between wheezes. βYou nearly headbutted me!β
Your face ignited with heat. βI did notβit was an accidentβstop laughing!β
But he couldnβt. He laughed harder, clutching his stomach as if the joy physically hurt him, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.
You folded your arms, your cheeks blazing, lips still tingling from the kiss. βAonung!β
He tried, genuinely tried, to stop, but every time he looked at your scandalized expression, another wave of laughter overtook him. He tipped sideways, nearly falling off the rock, still breathless from mirth.
βYouβyou were doing so wellβand thenβyour faceββ
You groaned into your hands, though a tiny, reluctant smile tugged at your lips because despite everythingβyour embarrassment, his teasingβyou had kissed Aonung. Or he had kissed you. Or both. And it had been slow and warm and careful and nothing like the disaster you thought a first kiss would be.
He straightened finally, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, the last echoes of laughter still shaking through his chest. His grin hadnβt dimmed at allβwide, bright, infuriatingly pleased with himself. You tried to glare at him, but your lips kept twitching, and he noticed immediately because his grin softened around the edges, turning almostβ¦ fond.
He reached for you again without hesitation, his palms sliding back to your waist with that same steady warmth, thumbs brushing slow arcs against your skin as if grounding you. βMaβ¦,β he murmured, voice still thick with mirth, βit is alright. Truly. The second time will be better.β
You blinked, head tilting. βSecond time?β
Aonungβs brows lifted like are you truly this slow? βSrane (yes). Unless you plan to kiss Reytan the way you just headbutted me.β
Heat flooded your face so violently you squealed, shoving at his chest with both hands. He rocked backward with an exaggerated oomph, laughing through it, clearly delighted that heβd gotten a rise out of you.
βYou areββ
He leaned in before you finished the sentence, voice dropping low enough to skim along your skin. βCome here,β he said, not forceful, but certain. βLet me show you properly.β
Your breath hitched. You didnβt argue. You simply went still as his hands tightened subtly at your waist, guiding you closer. His chest brushed yours, the warmth of him radiating through your wrap, and he dipped his head with slow intention, giving you time, always giving you time, to pull back.
You didnβt.
You wanted the kiss. You wanted the lesson. You wanted him.
Aonungβs lips met yours again, but this time they didnβt feel tentative or instructional. They felt assured; warm, steady, coaxing rather than asking. His mouth pressed to yours with quiet confidence, shaping itself to your lips as though learning your rhythm from the inside out. His kiss was unhurried, a soft glide, a slow pull, a lingering brush that made your spine arc slightly toward him.
His fingers dug into your waist with a deeper grip, drawing you closer until your knees brushed his thigh. His breath mingled with yours, warm and faintly salted from the sea air, and his lips stayed gentle yet firm, guiding you through the motion, waiting for you to follow.
You didβhesitant at first, then with growing certainty. The soft smack of your lips parting and meeting filled the quiet space around you. Aonung hummed low in his throat, pleased, and you felt the vibration through his chest before you heard it. He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring the press of your mouth, the give of your lips beneath his. His smile formed against your kissβsmall at first, then fuller as you leaned in more boldly.
You could feel it curve, feel the warmth of it, feel how much he enjoyed teaching you like this.
But you were far too focused on doing wellβon making your kiss match his steadiness, to analyze the meaning behind that smile. You wanted to be good at this.
You attempted to deepen the kiss again, this time carefully angling your head so you wouldnβt collide with him. But nerves surged at the last moment, and boldness struck too fast. Your lips parted, your breath quickenedβ
βand you shoved your tongue into his mouth.
Aonung let out a startled sound somewhere between a gasp and a choked hiss. His hand spasmed at your waist. His whole body jolted, and he tore his mouth from yours with a wet break of sound, staring at you like you had just turned into a palulukan before his eyes.
His shock lasted half a heartbeat.
Then laughterβloud, uncontrollable, so sudden he bent at the waistβbroke out of him like a wave hitting rock.
βThere is no wayββ he wheezed, pointing at you like he couldnβt believe you were real, βno way you told me I lick everyone, when youβyou justβEywa help meββ
He laughed harder, nearly falling backwards, hands braced in the sand as he gasped for air.
You covered your face with both hands, mortified. βI panicked!β
βYou attacked me!β he howled, slapping his thigh as fresh laughter tore out of him. βYour tongueβyour tongue went to war!β
βThat is notβAonung, STOP LAUGHINGββ
But he couldnβt. He was laughing so hard tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, his head tipping back toward the fading sky, his chest rising and falling in wild, messy heaves.
βYouββ he managed between breaths, βareβwithout doubtβthe worstβand bestβstudent I have ever had.β
You glared at him through your fingers, cheeks blazing, heart ricocheting inside your chest like a startled fish. βShut up, skxawng,β you snapped, lowering your hands just enough to send him a murderous squint. βI swear, I will spear you right here.β
Aonung hiccuped mid-laugh, the sound cracking in his throat as he tried to recover. His shoulders rose once, sharply, and he inhaled like he was attempting to reel himself back into his body. His eyes lifted to yours, still shining from laughter, but something shifted underneath. The brightness didnβt fade, yet it deepened, turning warm and searching.
The sound around you softened. The waves quieted. Even your pulse seemed to hush.
Aonung exhaled once, long and slow, and moved toward you. His hands rose with a steadiness that made your breath catch. When his palms cupped your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones, every trace of teasing melted into sincereness.Β
βThird time is the charm,β he murmured. His grin lingered, sharp and self-satisfied, but affection glowed beneath it like heat beneath embers.
You stuck your tongue out at him, refusing to let the moment swallow you. βStill icky,β you whispered, even though your voice wavered.
Aonungβs hum curled around you like warm water. ββIcky,ββ he repeated, leaning closer, his breath grazing your lips. βSure. Keep saying that, and I will have to prove you wrong again and again.β His teasing slid lower as he murmured near your mouth, βMaybe I should have kissed you seasons ago.β
Your inhale stuttered. He noticed.
He always noticed.
His thumbs stroked your cheeks, guiding your chin up gently, and his forehead touched yours for a heartbeatβa grounding press. Then he closed the distance and kissed you.
This kiss wasnβt like the first two. It wasnβt hesitant. It wasnβt interrupted by panic or laughter. Aonungβs lips met yours with warm pressure that sent a tremor down your spine, a kiss that held intent rather than caution. His mouth shaped itself to yours in a slow, unhurried rhythm, savoring you. His lips brushed, pressed, lingered. Each movement felt like a tide rolling in, soft at first, gaining warmth and pull with every pass.
You melted before you meant to. Your body leaned into him, shoulders softening, chest brushing his. His grip shifted from your cheeks to cradle your jaw, tilting your face with a tenderness so unexpected that your eyes fluttered shut. His fingers traced the line of your cheek, sliding back to stroke the curve beneath your ear. The gesture pulled a soft sigh from you; quiet, almost embarrassed, but undeniably real.
Your hands rose slowly, as though drawn by instinct rather than thought. Your palms found his shoulders and you slid them upward, fingers grazing the strong line of his neck before looping around it. Aonung exhaled sharply into your mouth the moment your arms tightened around him. His hands shifted again, one cupping the back of your head, the other steadying your waist, pulling you closer until your knees brushed his thigh and the space between you dissolved entirely.
The kiss deepened as he angled his head, guiding your lips apart with a careful, warm pressure. A low sound vibrated in his chestβapproval, want, affection tangled into one. He kissed you as though tasting something new and precious, something he wanted to learn by heart. His lips brushed yours againβslower, fullerβbefore retreating just a breath and returning with more intention, more weight.
You followed him, instinct catching up at last. Your mouth pressed back with growing confidence, soft noises slipping into the kiss. Little hums, breaths, quiet whimpers you couldnβt hold in. Aonung swallowed them eagerly, smiling against your lips when one particularly sweet sound escaped you. The curve of that smile pressed into the kiss, and your heart lurched in your chest because Eywa, he was a good kisser. Better than any panic-fueled imagination, better than any story youβd been told, better than you had any right to expect.
His tongue brushed lightly against your lower lip, just a ghosting, but the warmth of it drew another soft noise from your throat. He deepened the kiss again, slow and sure, not rushing, not taking too much, guiding you into the rhythm until your body responded without fear.
Your fingers twisted in the braids at the back of his neck, holding him closer, and he let out a low groan before pulling you flush against him. His heartbeat thundered where your hand rested along his shoulder. His breath grew warmer against your cheek. His lips softened, then pressed harder, then softened again, kissing you with a growing hunger he kept carefully controlled, as though afraid of overwhelming you.
It felt endless. It felt grounding. It felt like a part of your life you had been missing without knowing.
When the kiss finally broke, it was a slow, gentle pull away, his lips brushing yours once more as though reluctant to leave.
His forehead rested against yours, breath uneven, eyes half-lidded, as though he were trying to memorize the feeling of being this close to you. His chest rose sharply against yours, fell just as sharply, a rhythm he couldnβt steady no matter how he tried. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to stay there forever.
You blinked up at him, dazed, warm, breathless⦠and then you pulled your arms from around his neck with a delighted gasp.
βOh!β you squealed, bouncing slightly where you sat. βI did it! I kissed you properly!β
Aonung froze. Completely. His hands slipped from your waist as though heβd forgotten how to hold anything at all.
You pressed your fingers to your lips, eyes shining. βThat was good, right? That felt good! I thinkβEywaβI think I actually did it!β
His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.
βI kissed properly,β you repeated, laughing breathlessly. βReytan will not know what hit him!β
The words sliced through him like a spear thrown too close. His face did not crumpleβAonung did not crumbleβbut emotion deep in his eyes shifted, dimming the bright ember that had burned there moments ago. His ears dipped downward just a fraction, his jaw tightening as though heβd clenched a thought between his teeth to keep it from escaping.
He didnβt say a word.
He watched you instead.
You were too giddy to notice. You smoothed your wrap, brushing off sand with frantic little pats. You adjusted your shell ornaments, tugged your braid forward, checked the fall of your tewng (loincloth). The kiss had left your cheeks flushed and glowing, and instead of marveling at the warmth of it, you fussed at your outfit like a girl preparing for her first ceremony.
βOh Great Motherβlook at the sky!β you gasped, scrambling to your feet. The colors of sunset had deepened into that rich molten orange, the kind that only lasted a few minutes before the world slipped into violet. βI am late. I am so late.β
Aonungβs gaze followed you upward, but his expression didnβt change. That quiet sadness stayed seated in his eyes, heavy as low tide against stone.
You didnβt see it.
You were too busy fluttering around, brushing sand from your legs, checking your hair with trembling fingers. βI have to go,β you babbled, heart racing again, but for an entirely different reason than before. βReytan is expecting me. IβI should run.β
Aonungβs throat worked. βSrane,β he murmured, voice too soft for his usual self. βGo.β
You didnβt hear the break in the word.
You didnβt see the way his shoulders pulled inward, subtly, as though bracing against a wave he couldnβt fight.
You were halfway down the sand before you turned back, beaming. βI will tell you all about it afterward!β
He stiffened.
Your smile stayed bright, unbothered, full of excitement for a future you didnβt realize excluded him. You lifted your hand in a quick little wave before spinning and sprinting toward the village path.
Aonung remained seated on the rock long after you disappeared from sight, his hands still resting palm-up on his knees, fingertips trembling with the memory of your lips. The salt breeze lifted his braids. The tide hissed quietly against the stone.
after the kissing lesson, u were supposed to come back and tell aonung how well it went, and he doesn't care, then u ask him for a lesson in bj's and he's like ???????
How Supernatural Characters Would Eat You Out π explicit sexual content, oral sex (fem receiving), 18+ only, nsfw, minors dni
DEAN WINCHESTER .α
Dean eats you out like it's his favorite mealβbecause it is. He's confident, skilled, and absolutely shameless about how much he enjoys it, groaning against you like you're the best thing he's ever tasted. He knows exactly what he's doing with that tongue, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit until your thighs are shaking around his head. He'll throw your legs over his shoulders, grip your hips to hold you in place, and won't stop until you've come at least twice because "one's never enough, sweetheart."
SAM WINCHESTER .α
Sam approaches eating you out with the same thoroughness he brings to researchβmethodical, attentive, and determined to learn exactly what makes you fall apart. He pays attention to every gasp and moan, mentally cataloging what makes your hips buck and your fingers tighten in his hair. He's not afraid to ask what you like, and once he knows, he's relentless about it, using that clever mouth and those long fingers in combination until you're a trembling mess. Sam takes his time because he genuinely loves watching you come undone, and he'll keep going until you physically pull him away.
CASTIEL .α
Castiel eats you out with an intensity that borders on worship, like he's studying every reaction and committing it to memory. He's surprisingly enthusiastic once he understands what to do, and his angel stamina means he never gets tiredβhe could stay between your thighs for hours if you let him. He watches you with those piercing blue eyes while he works, fascinated by every sound you make, and he takes direction beautifully, immediately adjusting when you guide him. When he finally makes you come, he looks absolutely triumphant, like he's accomplished something divine.
β’ pairing. loβak x fem!metkayina β’ summary. ever since lo'ak stepped into the lands of awa'atlu, he found himself falling for the olo'eyktan's daughter. and as it turns out, winning your heart was easier said than done. β’ wc. 2,2k β’ fluff. grumpy x sunshine. he fell first, he fell harder. loβak absolutely being head over heels. reader dislikes loβak. loβak trying to win you over. loβak flirting horribly. neteyam constantly teasing loβak.
the sullyβs.
youβve heard about them before - heard about the war, lead by the great toruk makto.
and now theyβve come.
they stood amongst your people, like a driftwood caught in a coral reef - unmistakably out of place.
for a moment, you stayed hidden, threaded through those around you, who stood with such curiosity as you were - before finally stepping forwards as you moved out of the weave of bodies.
with every step you took, your eyes traced every detail. their physique was nothing like yours. their tails, too thin to help balance in the ways you relied on; their arms, too slender to handle the movements and strength required.
you let your gaze drift, from one face to another, taking in their appearances.
it was then, that you caught his eye.
his gaze had found yours before you had found his.
almost immediately, his ears dipped, letting his eye drift downward, searching for anything to look at but you. he could feel the way his heart thundered in his chest, a rhythm unlike anything he had ever known.
he had never seen anyone so beautiful.
you were breathtaking.
weird, you thought. and from what you could guess, he was most likely the youngest of the brothers, seeing as he was more shorter than the one beside him.
it was not long after that your brother and roxto joined in, laughing and mocking them mercilessly. you let out an exasperated sigh as tsireya shot a sharp look towards them. βimmaturesβ you muttered under your breath.
βhey,β
a voice spoke up.
you turned your head at the source of the sound, only to simply roll your eyes.
it was that boy again.
he had a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth - clearly a miserable attempt at charm. though you did not know his name (and you intended not to know) , you could already tell heβd be a nuisance later on.
with a final narrowed look, you slipped away towards your father and mother. and despite this, you could still feel the way his gaze practically bore into your skin.
if you thought having them to stay here was bad enough, having to teach them your ways definitely made it worse. as much as you would like to complain, you knew your father well enough not to.
accompanied by tsireya, the two of you lead the sullyβs through the village paths, past countless of occupied maruis and over the glimmering tidal waters.
and as you walked, (unbeknownst to you) loβak was currently having a silent battle with himself - struggling to muster the courage to speak to you. βright. just ask her for her name, thats all. yeah - you can do this.β he mumbled. unfortunately, neteyam noticed this of course, and he was quick to catch on; a knowing smirk made its way to his lips.
βjust talk to her, baby bro,β he said, patting loβaks shoulder. βbro, lower your voice.β loβak whisper-shouted at neteyam, who only shook his head. loβak glanced your way again to make sure you hadnβt heard anything. thankfully, you were emerged into your conversation with tsireya.
βyou make it too obvious.β neteyam chuckled, to which loβak rolled his eyes to. and after a few seconds of silent contemplation, a smirk slowly played on neteyamβs lips.
βyou got this.β
and with that, he shoved loβak at your side (he almost bumped into you). his eyes widened in panic, before quickly clearing his throat. you eyed him suspiciously.
βhey,β
βwhat do you want?β you asked, not bothering to glance his way.
βwell, i was - i mean, i didnβt catch your name earlier.β
βy/n.β
βpretty name,β he grinned; you fought back not to roll your eyes. βthank you.β was all you said. silence hung between the two of you, before he broke it.
βiβm loβak, by the way.β
neteyam winced at the poor sight.
you only nodded, and thank eywa - because fortunately youβve arrived at your destination, leaving him no room to speak anymore further. and before he could open his mouth once more, you slipped away from his sight.
he sighed, watching your silhouette disappear. he never looked more defeated.
βthat was pretty hard to watch.β neteyam muttered, using all his might not to laugh.
βbro, shut up.β loβakβs ears mustβve turned red, because not soon after, neteyam wouldnβt stop teasing his brother about it.
βah, you shouldβve seen his face!β neteyam laughed along with kiri and tuk, and loβak swore he would prove them wrong. that he was capable of winning your heart.
and so came the day after - the day you dreaded of.
you practically begged aoβnung to switch - to let him teach loβak instead, but being the infuriating brother he is, he of course rejected that offer.
βand why would i teach him? that freak obviously took a liking toββ
βshut up, will you?β
with a groan, you made your way towards loβak, ignoring the snickers that came from aoβnung. you were going to kill him.
the second loβak saw you approaching him, his face lit up in an instant, a spark of excitement danced in his eyes. his ears perked up, unable to contain the grin on his face.
βguess youβre stuck with me,β he said, feigning nonchalance. βunfortunately.β you mumbled more to yourself than to him. you turned, calling for the iluβs to come by.
slowly, an ilu swam its way toward you and loβak. its smooth, streamlined body cutting through the water with effortless grace. βthis is an ilu,β you said, caressing its smooth skin. βilu.. got it.β he replied, as he, too, caressed the ilu, mirroring your movements.
you stepped back slightly as he began to carefully climb onto its back. once he made tsaheylu, you started, βfeel him. feel his breath, his heart.β he took a deep breath, allowing himself to become one.
βhold here,β you instructed, guiding his arms along the back of its head. his stomach twisted and turned at your touch. βgo slowly, a lot of people do not get it on their first try.β you said.
βguess weβre about to find out,β he replied, voice dripping with such confidence. he was determined to impress you.
you could only bit back a scoff. βgo on then, forest boy.β you breathed, eyes glimmering with anticipation for the scene to unfold. you were almost a hundred percent sure he wouldnβt even last ten seconds.
he took a deep breath.
either he impresses you,
or
he simply makes a fool out of himself.
either way, he doesnβt plan on it being a choice.
and with that, he was off.
the ilu surged forward beneath him as he left your side - for a good five seconds, that is. you snorted. he looked absolutely ridiculous. and while you were almost a hundred percent sure he wouldnβt last, there was a part of you where you had actually believed him.
not far from the place you two once stood, loβak huffed, ears flared crimson as it fell, mentally cursing himself at his stupidity. is this seriously the way he portrays himself in front of you? he thought.
βnice try.β you called out, a soft laugh escaping your lips. you were grinning from ear to ear now, clearly pleased - and, amused at the sight.
his ears perked up at the sound.
you were smiling - laughing, even.
and he couldnβt help but reflect your actions. his chest swelled, and for a moment, he had completely forgotten about his foolish incident. βcome on, donβt tell me i didnβt do good for someone who never rode an ilu.β he grinned as he threw his hands up. βyou barely lasted for five seconds - even tuk could do better than you, skxwang.β you shook your head, and his grin only grew wider - which infuriated you in ways you couldnβt describe.
and now, came the breathing exercise.
you, along with your brother, roxto, and the four sully kids - that annoying forest boy included - circled near the shores by the rocks, with neteyam and loβak by your side.
oh, he just would never leave you alone. you tried. once, twice, hell you tried to avoid him countless times but he always found a way back to you. it was, without a doubt, the most frustrating thing to ever happen.
βbreathe from here,β tsireya instructed, placing her palm right below her ribcage right where her diaphragm was. you, too set out an example for them, demonstrating the correct way to breathe. one by one, they tried this themselves, and eywa, did not one soul had done it right.
you breathed a heavy sigh as you watched neteyamβs horrible attempt. βyou are still breathing from here,β you placed your palm against his chest. βbreathe here.β you finished, sliding down your hand as it found its way to his stomach. neteyam nodded, before taking a deep breath for another attempt.
this scene obviously made loβakβs skin crawl. he rolled his eyes.
but then,
and an idea popped up.
a stupid one, actually.
βyes. just like that,β you said, at last retreating your arms from neteyam. you saw that roxto was helping kiri and tuk, who seemed to catch on pretty quickly themselves. you were quite pleased. however, that was until you saw how poorly loβak was following along.
you clicked your tongue in annoyance. βskxwang. breathe from here,β you said, pressing your hand lightly on his abdomen. his breath hitched at the contact. heart hammering in his chest - so loud, that he was sure you could hear how fast his heart beat for you.
he couldnβt take his eyes off of you - couldnβt focus on anything - i mean, how could he when youβre this close?
βtry to breathe in slowly from yourββ
you hit his head.
βdid you hear anything i just said?β
βwhat? oh, yeah. yeah, of course. you said to suck my stomach in as hard as possββ
βyou are impossible.β
snickers and stifled laughter rippled around as you let out an exasperated sigh. they all exchanged knowing looks with each other. neteyam nudged aoβnung, who smirked in acknowledgment.
βbreathe from here, baby bro.β neteyam teased, laying a hand on loβakβs stomach, only for him to immediately swat it away. βget off.β he grumbled, clearly not in the mood. βah, come on, it was just a joke.β neteyam defended, throwing his arms up; neteyamβs voice blurred in the background as he shoved past him and stepped out of the marui.
three moons had passed, and yet, neteyam wouldnβt stop pestering his brother about it.
in all honesty, he didnβt know where he was heading, letting his legs carry him wherever they wanted. he thought that for a moment, up until he saw a silhouette he knew too well down the shoreline.
you.
βshit,β he mumbled as you suddenly turned your head his way. quickly, he hid behind a nearby tree - almost slipping on a fruit skin. he definitely did not want you to think of him as some sort of creepy stalker. the last thing he wanted was to pile on another reason for you to dislike him.
he peeked behind from behind the tree. βokay - just act casual.β he told himself before he stepped out, making his way toward you.
βhey,β a voice rang out from behind. you knew that voice. and just when you thought you could get a peaceful night.
βdo you ever say anything else other than hey?β you said, finally turning around to face him. βcome on, itβs a cool word.β he replied with that irritating shit-eating grin. you turned, resuming your hunt for seashells - your back now facing him.
βso, how long have you been standing behind that tree?β
his heart dropped.
βwhaat? i donβt know what youβre talking about.β he said, his voice rising a little higher than usual. βdo not lie to me. you were being painfully obvious.β you said, turning to face him once more.
his cheeks flushed and he ran a hand through his hair nervously. his ears twitched. βokay - maybe i was? listen, i was only there for five seconds, come on - i swear!β he defended, arms raised up in surrender.
you raised a brow.
βsure you were, stalker.β you said, followed by a light chuckle. you shifted your focus back to the sand, crouching down as you continued to search for seashells, like nothing had happened. he followed suit not long after, eyeing you as you carefully picked up a beautiful white shell.
βthatβs a pretty shell,β he said. you simply hummed. βnot as pretty as you, though.β he said, grinning sheepishly - that grin immediately faded as you hit his forearm. heat crept up your neck. and you most definitely did not like it.
βow, that hurt!β
βskxwang.β
βwhat, iβm speaking facts-β
you raised your arm once more, threatening to smack him again. he dodged. βokay, okay! iβll stop.β he breathed, laughing it off. you lowered your hand, eyes narrowed at him.
βif you say one more word, i swear, loβak - i will not hesitate to leave you to be fed to the akula.β you hissed. βright. got it.β he grinned.
thank eywa nightfall had settled over you, as its shadows mercifully hid the blooming color on your cheeks.
a/n | i'm gonna ban neteyam completely from my blog. JKJK i love his character so much!! this was a quick thing i wrote for my friend's (LEAHHH) birthday!! hate u sm leah for making u write him. also my personal headcanon is that adult neteyam is scarily good at keeping eye contact, like borderline creepy. but he's just a gentleman!!!
synopsis | neteyam has always spoken through his eyes, holding your gaze with a devotion that never falters. you learn how quickly how deeply he craves eye contact back.
The ritual of Neteyamβs gaze wove itself into the rhythm of your days so quietly that you did not realize how completely it claimed you until much later. His eyes always found yours with the steadiness of a hunter who never misjudges a shot, yet the warmth within them felt nothing like the sharp vigilance of the warriors beside him. His attention wrapped around you like a firm hand at your waist, coaxing without force, guiding without command. Neteyam never broke eye contact unless necessity demanded it, and the devotion within that simple act made your pulse stumble in your throat every time.
During arguments, his gaze became a flame that was bright, unwavering, impossible to shake off. The first time you both raised your voices at each other, you looked away because your chest trembled with frustration and a stubborn worry that your words might come out too raw. Neteyam simply stepped closer, as if pulled by the gravity of your distress. His jaw tensed, but his breath remained steady, the rise and fall of his chest disciplined like everything else about him. His eyes locked onto yours despite the way you turned your head, refusing to let the growing distance spill between you. He tilted your chin upward with two fingertips,his touch warm with the kind of patience that should not have belonged in a heated moment.
βMa yawne,β he murmured, voice low but carrying the unmistakable edge of hurt beneath it, βdo not hide your face from me. Let me see you.β
The demand did not strike like anger. It landed like a plea, wrapped in the tension carved into the corners of his mouth and the slight tremor in his lower lashes. You looked back at him only because he asked you toβbecause the sincerity in his eyes left no room for fear. His expression softened when your gaze met his again, shoulders loosening, breath deepening. Even when your words came out cracked with frustration, he held that eye contact through every moment of it, as though anchoring you so neither of you drifted too far from truth. The argument settled only when his gaze gentled enough to strip the heat from the air, leaving the two of you standing inches apart, breathing the same unsteady breaths.
During quiet moments, his eye contact transformed into something far more tender. When you spoke about your day or shared a passing story about a dream that left you puzzled, Neteyam listened with the full weight of his presence. His ears angled toward you with attentive stillness, and his tail curled lightly around your leg without him realizing, but it was his eyes that did all the speaking. He watched your expressions shift with a kind of reverence, as though every blink and every lift of your lips was a gift only he was allowed to witness. Whenever you hesitated mid-sentence, perhaps unsure if your story mattered, his thumb brushed the inside of your wrist while his gaze deepened with encouragement.
βNga yemstokx't tsonta plltxe,β ("you don't have to talk") he would say, voice soft enough to settle beneath your skin. βYour thoughts carry weight. I hear all of them.β
You could see the sincerity reflected clearly in the luminous gold of his eyes. He blinked slowly, a gesture of affection the Naβvi rarely offered so openly, and the corners of his mouth curled with quiet pride whenever you continued speaking. His gaze told you he valued every word, even before his voice confirmed it.
There were moments when you did not need to speak at all, because his eyes already understood you. After long days, when exhaustion tugged at your eyelids and frustration coiled in your chest, Neteyam would find you in the shadows of the forest or beside the glowing roots of a familiar tree. He approached without sound, yet the moment he settled beside you, the tension in your body loosened as if your muscles recognized him before your mind did. He angled his face toward yours with a softness that came only from deep trust, lowering himself until your foreheads nearly brushed.
Your eyes met his, and in that silence he spoke entire confessions. His pupils widened with concern when he sensed the strain behind your tired sigh. The faint furrowing of his brows told you he wanted to shoulder your burdens. When your own gaze softened, he exhaled with relief, shoulders sinking as if reassured that you were not pushing him away. A gentle sweep of his thumb under your chin directed your attention fully onto him, not out of dominance but out of devotion.
βNgaru lu fpom srak?β ("are you okay?") he asked quietly, though his eyes already knew the answer. The glow of bioluminescent spores reflected in his irises, creating a shimmering tenderness that stole breath from your lungs.
You nodded without a word. His expression warmed, mouth curving into a small smile edged with affection too deep for speech. You both remained like that, exchanging silent questions and unspoken assurances entirely through the meeting of your eyes. The world beyond the two of you faded, replaced with a shared rhythm of breathing and emotion.
When he loved you, he showed it first through his gaze. When he worried for you, his eyes darkened with concern before his hands ever reached for you. When he teased you, his pupils dilated and a smirk tugged at one corner of his lips, the mischievous glint in his eyes giving him away long before he spoke. When he desired you, his stare grew heavy and molten, lingering on your lips before returning to your eyes with an intensity that warmed every inch of your skin.
And his eyes had always been beautiful. Not in the casual way someone might call a shimmering leaf or a sunrise "pretty," but in a way that struck so deep it rewired your insides. They were golden in the truest sense, not pale or diluted like the soft hue of morning sand, but rich and molten, like sunlight poured over amber and stirred with honey. Light caught in them like it wanted to stay there, like the forestβs glow leaned in just to shimmer in those irises longer, and when he looked at you, you swore the rest of the world fell out of focus, like the trees leaned back respectfully, and even Eywa herself waited, breath held.
They glowed fiercest when he looked up at you from between your thighs, his mouth slick and glistening, lips pink from devotion. He never blinked. Not once. The heat in his gaze made your stomach twist with tension so fierce it shouldβve unraveled you. The flex of his tongue against your clit was devastating on its own, but the eye contact? That was the kill shot. Your fingers dug into the thick braids at his scalp, the other hand thrown up uselessly over your mouth in a half-hearted attempt to smother the shameless, wanton sounds that kept breaking free. You should have looked away. You tried. Your hips rolled in helpless rhythm against the heat of his mouth while your head tossed side to side, desperate to escape the weight of that gaze.
He kissed your clit, full lips wrapping around it in a slow drag that made your thighs shudder around his ears. That made your chest seize up and the air burn in your lungs. You whimpered high and fragile, and thatβs when your eyes finally dropped. You looked at him.
Neteyam smiled. Not the broad grin of a boy proud of himself, but the smoldering, hushed curve of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to you. A low rumble of satisfaction vibrated in his throat, and he didnβt break the gaze for a second as he pressed another kiss right there, lips plush and maddening, before pulling back. He kissed the inside of your thigh once, slowly, and you nearly sobbed at the lossβonly for his fingers to slide in and fill the ache his tongue left behind.
His face rose with a slow, unhurried grace, until his forehead pressed to yours. He was breathing through his nose, warm breath fanning across your cheek, lips close enough to kiss but not quite. The fingers inside you curled deep and purposeful, dragging against the spot that made your body light up like bioluminescent bark. His other hand, slick with your arousal, slid over your ribs and up to your breast, callused thumb brushing over the hardened nipple like it was a button he could press to summon your surrender.
βYou run from my eyes, but your body speaks all truths,β he murmured, voice thick with a purr, accented by breathless warmth and a flicker of laughter.
You shook your head wildly, burying your face in your hands, but he only chuckled, lips grazing the shell of your ear as he spoke again, softer now, closer.
βNo more hiding,β he whispered. βLet me see you when I make you fall apart.β
His fingers didnβt stop. Two thick digits curled inside you, slick and knuckle-deep, pumping with a steady rhythm that made the muscles in your belly seize with tension. Your walls fluttered around them, clenching so tight it made him grunt softly against your cheek. Your thighs trembled on either side of his waist, one heel digging into the small of his back like you needed to anchor yourself to him, or youβd just be lost to the sky.
His tongue darted out to taste the sweat beading at your jaw, and his lips followed the path, kissing along your cheekbone until he met your temple.
βPiak si ngeyΓ€ menari. (don't close your eyes) Look at me,β he said again, this time not a request. A command wrapped in silk.
But you couldnβt. The pressure was too much, the pleasure blooming like fire through your core, and his fingers were relentless now, dragging you higher, closer to the edge. Your back arched off the mossy earth beneath you, and your arms trembled where they covered your eyes.
ββteyam,β you gasped, the nickname shivering out of you like it didnβt belong to your tongue anymore. βIβI canβtββ
His free hand seized your wrists gently, but firm, and pulled them away from your face, pressing your hands into the mossy ground beside your head. Your eyes fluttered open on instinct, and there he was. So close. Forehead pressed to yours, lips parted with shared breath, eyes burning like twin suns. His gaze was so open, so full, that your soul caved inward just to hold it all.
βYou can,β he said, lips brushing yours. βYou will. Let me see you break, yawne. Let me watch you come.β
He pushed deeper inside you with his fingers, curling them hard against that perfect spot, and your moan tore free raw and shaking, eyes locked on his as your body arched and trembled. His golden gaze never left you, not even when your thighs jerked around his waist or when your mouth dropped open in a cry you couldnβt control. He held your eyes as you shattered, his expression flickering with awe and a hungry reverence that made your chest ache.
As you cameβsharp and sudden, hips bucking against his palmβhe leaned in and kissed you, slow and deep, swallowing every desperate sound you made with lips full of patience and fire.
Still, his eyes never wavered.
The way he looked at you in that moment was holy. Like your pleasure was a gift. Like watching you unravel was a rite. Like he could feel itβyour orgasm, your surrender, your trustβin the way your gaze held his.
He didnβt need words.
His eyes told you everything.
sliming myself and neteyam out after this one man.
extra, extra, read all bout it, lo'ak is in his feelings .α
.α lo'ak x fem!reader | angst, nsfw MDNI (18+)
a/n | OHHH MY GOD??? THANK YALL FOR ALL THE SUPPORT RECENTLY??? LIKEE I'M ACTUALLY LOSING MY MINDD AAA!! like i genuinely have no words except for thank u... i'm just speechless πβ€οΈ besides that, i hope i did lo'ak justice in this!! he's one of my favorites, i love him so much <33
synopsis | lo'ak is drowning in grief and guilt, pulling away from you, the only person who still feels like home. alone in the shallows, he finally gives in to his thoughts that he's been trying to bury, only to be caught off guard.
content warning(s) | MDNI (18+), aged up characters, grief, emotionally withdrawn lo'ak, yearning, masturbation, explicit sexual thoughts, surprise interruption (non-confrontational)
The sun was low in the sky, hanging swollen and red like an open wound bleeding light across the waves. It touched the treetops and dappled the sand in golden shards, scattering brilliance that went unnoticed by the boy crouched in the shallows. Loβak sat alone, knee-deep in water gone warm from the dayβs heat, his forearms resting on his thighs, his head bowed low. Ripples kissed his skin. Fish darted between his legs like they could sense his silence and wanted no part of it.
His shoulders were bare. His braids were loose, damp, falling into his eyes in tangled ropes, still dripping from the plunge heβd taken beneath the surface minutes agoβmore to drown his thoughts than to wash away sweat. Even now, the droplets clung to him, slipping down the line of his back, catching in the hollow of his spine like tears refusing to fall.
He couldnβt stop seeing Neteyam.
Every time he closed his eyes, there he was. Smiling. Bleeding. Reaching. Falling. Lo'ak would wake with his heart clawing up his throat, breath sawing through clenched teeth like he'd run miles, only to find you curled up beside him, lips parted in sleep, hand inches from his chest, like youβd been trying to reach his heart without knowing.
It made his insides twist, knowing he couldn't let you in. That every time you touched him now, soft palm to his cheek, fingers slipping through hisβhe flinched like a broken animal. You didnβt deserve that. You didnβt deserve the wall he kept slamming down between you, the silence thick as tar. And yet, every time he tried to tell you, to open his mouth and give you his truth, it choked him.
What could he say? βI think my father still sees Neteyamβs death when he looks at meβ? βI think every smile he gives me is a lie he tells himself to keep from breakingβ?
No. No words came. Just shame. Cold and heavy, like the ocean floor.
His hand slid beneath the water, fingers curling into a tight fist. He stared at his own reflection, warped by the gentle current. His own golden eyes peering back, wide and haunted, too much like Jakeβs. Too much like Neteyamβs. The familiar faces of men he could never be.
You were the only thing that felt real anymore.
Your voice still pierced through the numbness, your laugh curled around his ribs like a lifeline. You always knew when to touch him. A brush of your thumb across his brow. A kiss at his jaw, never romantic, only platonic. You never asked more of him than he could give, even when he knew he was giving you far less than you deserved.
And still, you stayed.
Your kindness haunted him more than his memories.
Loβak exhaled slowly, water steaming off his chest, breath catching at the end like it didnβt want to leave. He tilted his head back, blinking into the dying light, letting the orange glare burn into his vision, watching until the shapes dissolved. You. You were always with him. Even now, when he didnβt want to be seen, he thought of your hands. How they trembled when you thought he wasnβt looking. How they reached for him anyway.
He wasnβt stupid. He knew what you felt.
And that was the worst part. Because deep down, deeper than the guilt, deeper than the ache of lossβhe wanted you. Wanted you in ways he couldn't name without shame curling hot in his belly. Not just your company. Not just your voice.
He wanted your body.
The thought came unbidden, vile in its timing. He grimaced, shaking his head, water droplets flinging from his hair. But it didnβt leave. It never did. You would touch his arm, press a kiss to his temple, and his gut would clench like it was starving. It was wrong. He felt wrong. He felt disgusting.
He shifted where he sat, the water lapping against his thighs as he tried to will the heat from his blood. But it was there, insistent. Images rushed in: your eyes, warm and wet with concern; the curve of your mouth when you smiled only for him; the way your hands felt against his back when you hugged him tighter than usual, like you knew he needed to be held together.
His cock twitched beneath the water, half-hard already, thickening with slow inevitability. He cursed under his breath, teeth gritted. βEywaβ¦β
He hadnβt even touched himself in weeks. It always felt tainted. Like he was betraying you, somehow. Lust didnβt belong in grief. But his body didnβt care. His thoughts didnβt obey. His memories of you were getting sharper; your bare legs when you swam ahead of him, the way your wet top clung to your chest when you came back up for air. Your laughter echoing like a songbird in heat. He hated himself for it. For wanting you when you were just trying to help him survive.
But fuck, it felt good to want. It made him feel alive, when everything else turned to ash in his mouth.
His hand slid lower.
Just once, he told himself. Just to get it out. Maybe he could look you in the eyes again. Maybe he could be soft with you, warm like before. Maybe if he stopped thinking about fucking you, he could remember how to love you.
His fingers wrapped around his cock beneath the surface, breath catching in his throat. It was already hard, hot and twitching against his palm. The friction of water wasnβt enough, so he gripped tighter, letting his head fall forward, braids veiling his face.
He imagined you. Eyes wide, lips parted, curious and soft. You wouldn't laugh at him. Wouldnβt judge. Youβd ask before you touched. You always did. βCan I hold you?β youβd whisper, voice gentle like wind through leaves. βWill you let me love you?β
His hand moved slowly, stroking from base to tip, breath shallow and fast now. He imagined your fingers instead of his, smaller, calloused from weaving, gentle but firm. Your mouth would be warm. Youβd kiss his chest, trail lower. No urgency. Just tenderness. Just devotion.
A low groan slipped past his lips, involuntary, rough.
He squeezed his eyes shut, lips parting as his strokes grew faster. He imagined you beneath him, eyes searching his, hands spread over his back, legs parting without fear, whispering his name like it meant home. βLoβak,β youβd breathe, voice trembling. βPlease. I want you. I see you.β
His hips bucked once, water sloshing loud around him. His thighs trembled. His heart thundered.
βI see you,β he whispered back, voice cracking, jaw clenched like it hurt. βI see you, I see youβ¦β
The words tore from him like bone from flesh, guttural and raw, each syllable a wound reopened. His hand was moving with purpose now, sliding firm and rhythmic along the length of his cock beneath the water. Heat coiled low in his belly, dangerous and aching, tight like a bowstring drawn to its limit. His spine arched subtly, the muscles in his back flexing. His breath was a stuttered rhythm, harsh exhales through flared nostrils, his mouth parted but silent now, save the tremble of your name escaping in ragged whispers.
The sound of your name was a balm and a brand. It soothed the ache and fed the fire all at once. His fingers tightened. He imagined your mouth; soft, warm, eagerβstretching over the head of his cock, eyes wide and wet as you looked up at him, reverent like prayer. Youβd hum around him, slow and sweet, tongue flicking beneath the tip, tasting the salt of his need. Heβd never felt that, never dared ask, but he saw it. Saw it in the curve of your lips when you laughed, in the way you touched him like he was breakable and beautiful both.
He imagined the way youβd moan for him, low and wanting, your hands on his thighs, holding him steady as your mouth took more, deeper, your throat clenching around him like you wanted to swallow his grief whole.
His hand jerked faster, water slapping faintly against his hips with each movement. It wasnβt enough. No matter how tight he gripped, no matter how vividly he conjured your face, your scent, the heat of your skin pressed to hisβhe needed more. He needed you. Not just your body, but the warmth of you. The way youβd hold his jaw in your palms and look at him like he mattered, even when he didnβt believe it himself.
He whimpered again, low and wounded, like the sound might go unheard by the sky if he didnβt breathe it out through clenched teeth. βWhy do you stay?β he rasped, his voice hoarse, though you werenβt there to hear it. βYou shouldβve left me. You shouldβveββ
But you hadnβt. You never had. You braided his hair with trembling hands after his brotherβs funeral, fingers carding through his locks like they could untangle the sorrow from his scalp. You held him when he shook with rage, when he screamed at nothing, when he punched trees until his knuckles bled. You didnβt flinch. You never turned away, even when he begged you to.
The worst part was that he loved you for it.
Loved you so much it broke him open.
He squeezed his eyes shut, curling forward as he pumped his cock harder now, water cresting around his thighs, sloshing in lazy circles. His muscles were taut, carved in deep blue and streaked with glistening rivulets that caught the last light. He was shaking. Not from cold, but from the weight of it all. The heat, the grief, the need that wouldnβt be swallowed.
He imagined you again, not on your knees this time, but above him.
Straddling him.
Your thighs draped over his hips, soft and strong, the curve of your ass grinding down against him as you guided him to your entrance with a whisper of breath and a look in your eyes that said I choose you. He could see your tits, full and beautiful, bouncing as you rocked your hips, riding him with slow, reverent rhythm. Your hands would press to his chest, fingers splayed across the scars there, thumbs brushing his nipples as you leaned down to kiss him.
He imagined the way youβd say his name, over and over, a mantra of want. βLoβakβ¦ Loβakβ¦ ma Loβakβ¦β like he was sacred. Like he wasnβt broken.
The thought tore a groan from his throat. He twisted, thighs tensing, the muscles flexing beneath striped blue skin as he chased that high, chased the feeling of being wanted without pity, of being loved without condition.
βI want to mate you,β he hissed to the air, to no one, to you as if you might be listening through the trees.Β
It wasnβt just fantasy. It was ache. A vow unspoken but buried deep in his marrow. He saw itβsaw you both before Eywa, tangled in roots that glowed with bioluminescent light, your bodies bare, pressed together in sacred offering. He saw your queues twined with his, the pulse of your souls merging into one. You would look at him like he wasnβt broken. Like he was home. Like he was worthy.
His hand slipped faster now, slick and sure, his cock thick and flushed with blood, the head peeking just above the surface with every stroke, veins pronounced beneath the skin. His breath caught, chest heaving, mouth open in silent gasps.
Youβd be so beautiful. Moaning beneath him, taking every thrust, nails digging into his back as he fucked you slow and deep, claiming you with every inch. Your tits would press to his chest, slick with sweat, your legs wrapped around him, anchoring him to this world. Youβd beg him not to stop, and he wouldnβt. Heβd give you everything. Every thrust, every kiss, every broken piece of himself until there was nothing left but you and the sound of your voice gasping his name in the dark.
βI miss you,β he whimpered, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes now, not from sadness but the sheer weight of want. βI miss your smell. I miss your hands. I miss the way you laugh when I say stupid thingsβ¦β
His pace stuttered, erratic now, pleasure blooming like fire in his spine. He was close, so close it hurt.
βI need you,β he groaned, head thrown back, throat bared to the sky. βPleaseβplease, I needββ
Release came fast and brutal, a choked cry torn from his throat as his cock pulsed in his hand, thick ribbons of cum spilling into the water below. His thighs trembled with the force of it, toes curling in the sand, body rocking with every wave of ecstasy that tore through him. His other hand slammed to the water to brace himself, fingers digging into the shallows as he gasped for breath, chest heaving, vision blackened at the edges.
It wasnβt just lust. It was mourning. A funeral march for the man he used to be, and a desperate plea to be seen by the one person who still saw him.
You.
When the tremors passed, he sagged forward, hand limp in the water, cock softening between his thighs. The shame crept in like tidewater, slow and suffocating. But beneath itβsomething else.
Clarity.
He loved you.
He loved you in ways he didnβt know how to voice, didnβt know how to carry. But it was true. It had always been true. You werenβt a crutch. You were the last light he had left. You were warmth in a world gone cold.
He turned his face to the sky, breath steadying, tears drying on his cheeks. The heat had ebbed from his blood, but in its place was a strange lightness, like air had returned to his lungs after hours underwater. He felt a little clearer, but not whole. He exhaled through his nose, blinking up at the last of the sunlit sky before tucking himself behind his loincloth with careful fingers, the water soothing now instead of scorching.
He dragged his hands down his face, wiping away sweat, tears, and the salt that lingered on his lips. The silence felt sacred again, not suffocating. He was just about to stand, to leave before the dark fully fellβ
A rustle in the mangroves made him jolt, instinct snapping like a bowstring. His body coiled, tense, muscles tight, ears pricking forward.
Someone was there.
He turned sharply, water rippling around him, half-ready to run or fight.
But it was you.
Stepping through the tall reeds, eyes bright, your feet bare, a woven basket resting against your hip. Your smile lit up the shadows like a second sun, oblivious to the storm that had just raged inside him.
βLoβak!β you called, voice light and warm. Happy. Like you were just glad to see him.
He stood frozen in the shallows, water up to his knees, mouth parted but no sound coming.Β
i'm actually crying bro lo'ak makes me laugh so baddd gahh i love writing himmm
-`β‘Β΄- ao'nung x reader | TΓYAWN TRR β PANDORAβS DAY OF LOVE
a/n | hihi!! this one is a bit long, but ao'nung is so dear to me, as he's the first character i ever wrote for on this blog soo aaa!! hope u guys enjoy <3 this is also kinda similar to "water down what i call being grateful" soo!!
synopsis | shell bracelets mark desire on Tìyawn Trr. ao'nung secretly makes you one, but his confidence shatters when someone else reaches you first, and a jealous misunderstanding sends you both spiraling.
The ocean lapped gently at the woven edge of the marui pod, soft and rhythmic, like a heartbeat drumming against the shore. Inside, nestled among spools of dried seaweed cord and half-sorted shell piles, Aoβnung sat cross-legged, hunched over a tangled mess of material that was supposed to become a bracelet. His fingers were clenched around a piece of thin sinew, slick from saltwater, and the shells he'd spent the better part of the morning collecting clinked quietly as they spilled from the uncooperative knot he had just triedβand failedβto tighten.
A quiet curse slipped from his lips, hushed but sharp. He shoved the half-woven mess away from himself with a frustrated exhale, raking his fingers through the sides of his hair. Strands stuck stubbornly to his temples, damp from the humidity that rolled in off the reef. Normally, he wouldnβt even be attempting something like this. Crafting wasnβt his strength, and delicate work required the kind of patience he had in short supply, but this was for TΓ¬yawn Trr. He couldnβt just give a piece of coral or a polished stone and call it a day like he had when he was younger. He couldnβt treat it like a joke.
Not this year. TΓ¬yawn Trr meant more now, even if he hadnβt planned on it.
Among the Metkayina, the day marked not only affection but intent. Gifts were often exchanged, some playful, others serious. Shell bracelets, in particular, were given by those who wanted to show the depth of their connection. A shell with a carved swirl for laughter shared. A green-streaked stone to mark time spent near the tide pools. A sliver of polished spiral shell for each moon the giver had thought of their beloved in secret. It was old tradition, and often interpreted loosely, but the symbolism remained.
Aoβnung had received many bracelets over the years. He was the oloβeyktanβs son, handsome and bold, always surrounded by admirers and suitors alike. His collection was stashed carelessly beneath his mat, unacknowledged. They had never meant much to him. He never gave one back.
But now, sitting in the heat of midday, jaw tight, shell bits scattered around his knees, Aoβnung was attemptingβfor the first timeβto make one. A gift, not out of duty, but desire. For you.
He growled under his breath as another bead slid from the fraying cord and hit the floor with a dry tap. βSkxawng,β he muttered, snatching it back with clumsy fingers.
The marui flap rustled open a heartbeat later, and a familiar voice chirped into the space. βWhat are you muttering about in here?β
Tsireya stepped lightly into the pod, her braid swinging behind her, curiosity written all over her face. Her eyes flicked quickly from the pile in front of him to his hunched posture and flushed ears. She took one look at the chaos of shells and cords, and her face bloomed with a happy, knowing grin.
Aoβnung sat up straighter, too fast. His knee bumped the small basket beside him, sending two more shells rolling off into the corner. βReya,β he barked, louder than necessary, βdonβt you knock?β
βThis is a marui, not a stone cave,β she said lightly, crouching beside him and reaching for one of the shells. βWhat are you even doing? You look like Tuk trying to braid rope.β
He scowled and snatched the shell from her hand. βNone of your business.β
βOh?β she lifted an eyebrow. βSo it is a bracelet.β
βI didnβt say that.β
βYou didnβt have to.β Her voice dropped into that melodic lilt she used when teasing him, soft and singsong. βYouβre making a TΓ¬yawn Trr gift.β She paused, glancing at the mess in his lap. βWell... trying.β
Aoβnung turned away slightly, but not before she caught the way his ears had turned a deeper shade of blue. βGo away.β
Tsireya leaned on her hands, watching him with the smug patience only a younger sister could possess. βAre you making it for them?β
His head whipped toward her. βWhat?β
βYou know who,β she said with a giggle. βThe one youβve been staring at during every dive. The one you bring extra shells to when you think no oneβs watching. Them.β
Aoβnung looked like he wanted the sea to open beneath the marui and swallow him whole. His mouth worked once, then again, before he managed, βShut up.β
Tsireya clapped her hands, delighted. βYou are! Eywa, finally. Mother will be so relieved. I was beginning to think youβd end up mated to your own reflection.β
βCan you not,β he hissed, grabbing for the pile of shells again, trying to look busy.
She tilted her head, sobering slightly as she watched his fumbling attempts to fix the braid. βYouβve never made one before, have you?β
His hands stilled. βNo.β
βNot even once?β
βNo.β
Tsireyaβs voice softened, losing its teasing edge. βBut youβve gotten so many.β
He didnβt look at her when he answered. βThey didnβt matter.β
Tsireya blinked. The weight in his voice surprised her. She sat up properly and reached for a shell, this time waiting to see if he would stop her. When he didnβt, she held it up to the light between them. It was beautiful. Smooth, a pale violet-pink, almost translucent.
βThis oneβs rare,β she said.
βI dove into the shelf caves past the reef for it,β he muttered. βHad to fight off two reef stalkers.β
βYou exaggerate.β
βI do not.β
Tsireya smiled again, but gentler this time. βYou care.β
He didnβt reply. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the sound of waves kissing the shore.
βYouβre not bad at it,β she offered after a while. βYou just donβt know the rhythm yet.β
He glanced at her, skeptical.
βLet me help you. Not do it for youβjust help. Like Mother did for me the first time.β
Aoβnung hesitated. Pride and nerves warred silently behind his eyes, jaw clenched.
Tsireya nudged him lightly with her elbow. βYou want it to be good, right? For them?β
His ears flicked.
βI wonβt tell anyone.β
His eyes narrowed. βNot even Loβak?β
βI especially wonβt tell Loβak.β
He exhaled slowly, shoulders slumping. βFine. But if you make fun of me even onceββ
βI wonβt. I promise.β She leaned forward and plucked two shells from the pile. βHere. Start with these. Theyβll balance the color of that violet one.β
Aoβnung stared at the pieces in his hand like they were sacred.
Tsireya watched his face soften as he started again. The tension drained slowly from his shoulders as she guided his hands with quiet patience, showing him how to twist the seaweed cord so it held its shape, how to angle each shell so the natural curve hugged the next. Her movements were gentle, her voice lilting with that calm confidence she carried in every tide and every current. She didnβt tease, not even once, despite how tempting it must have been. She knew her brother too well. She could see how hard he was trying and how much this mattered to him. A single joke could break the fragile ribbon of determination he was clinging to.
Aoβnung focused on the shells as if they were tiny, glowing hearts beating in his hands. His brow furrowed in concentration, but not the frustrated scowl he wore earlier. His fingers moved with awkward care at first, but Tsireya corrected him gently, tapping the back of his hand or nudging his wrist until he found the right rhythm. Her eyes sparkled as she watched him improve.
After a few minutes of silence, she leaned in slightly, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. βI am surprised it is them,β she said softly. βOf all the people on the island who fall at your feet, I never thought the one to capture your heart would be the quiet, thoughtful one who actually makes you behave.β
Aoβnung scoffed, but his ears betrayed him, angling back in embarrassment. βDo not say it like that,β he muttered, though his voice lacked any sharpness.
Tsireya chuckled quietly and continued helping him thread a smaller shell between two violet spirals. βYou have changed since being around them. More patient. Moreβ¦ kind.β
Aoβnung rolled his eyes, but the heat beneath his skin grew obvious, blooming across his cheekbones. βI am the same.β
βYou are not,β she countered, smiling knowingly. βYou look at them like you are watching the waves during first light. As if you want to learn every piece of who they are.β
Aoβnungβs hands stilled for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet in a way Tsireya rarely heard from him. βThey make the world quieter,β he said, threading a bead slowly. βWhen they speak, everything feelsβ¦ steady. Even when they tease me, it is different. They see through me. Not past me. I do not know how they do that.β
Tsireyaβs eyes softened, pride blooming across her features. βThat sounds like love.β
Aoβnung flicked a shell at her face. βDo not say that word.β
βIt is the right one.β
βIt is embarrassing.β
βIt is true,β she said, nudging him again. βFinish the bracelet before you faint.β
He grumbled in response but continued weaving the cord, now with a subtle, undeniable warmth in his expression. The bracelet grew more beautiful with each carefully placed shell. He matched the violet spiral with soft cream pieces shaped like droplets, followed by a streak of deep ocean teal that shimmered when the light hit it. The pattern was instinctive, chosen more by feeling than logic, and every choice he made revealed exactly how deeply he cared.
After a long stretch of silence, broken only by the gentle clicking of shells, Aoβnung tied the final knot. He exhaled slowly, staring at the bracelet as if he wasnβt entirely sure he had made it.
Tsireya leaned forward, eyes wide with admiration. βAoβnungβ¦ it is beautiful. Truly.β
He brushed her compliment aside with a wave of his hand, though his throat bobbed with unspoken emotion. βI just hope they like it. If they do notβ¦β His voice trailed off, but the fear in it was obvious.
Tsireya opened her mouth to reassure him, but the marui flap rustled suddenly. Ronal stepped inside, her presence commanding the space without a word. Her eyes swept the interior briefly before landing on the shells scattered across the mat. Her gaze sharpened when she saw the bracelet in Aoβnungβs hands.
βWhat are you two doing?β her voice held equal parts curiosity and authority.
Aoβnung froze, fingers curling instinctively around the bracelet. His tail stiffened, and he straightened his spine as if bracing for judgment.
Tsireya, unbothered, chirped brightly, βAoβnung is making a TΓ¬yawn Trr bracelet for them. Look!β She grabbed his wrist before he could hide the piece again and held the bracelet up toward their mother.
Ronalβs expression shifted instantly. Surprise flashed first, quickly followed by something unreadableβpride, perhaps, mixed with disbelief. She stepped closer, reaching out to take the bracelet from Aoβnungβs hand before he could protest.
Her thumb traced the shells with slow, deliberate care. She examined each curve, each color choice, each knot in the cord.
βThis patternβ¦β she said quietly, the weight of her voice sinking into the air around them. Her eyes lifted to meet Aoβnungβs, sharp and assessing. βThis pattern is meant for lovers. Not casual affection.β
Aoβnungβs eyes widened, heat rushing to his cheeks. He looked like someone had ripped the air from his lungs, caught between defensiveness and mortification. βIβI did notβI mean, I just picked shellsββ
βYou chose a courting pattern,β Ronal stated, her voice stern but steady. βWhether you intended to or not.β
Tsireya covered her mouth to hide her grin, but her eyes sparkled with delight. βMother,β she said gently, βhe knows.β
Aoβnung inhaled sharply, ears flattening. βI did notβwellβnot exactlyββ
Ronal held the bracelet up between them, the shells glowing faintly in the afternoon light.
βThis is a promise,β she said simply. βA vow of rising hearts. Are you prepared to give this to them knowing what it says?β
Aoβnung swallowed hard.
Your name drifted through his thoughts like a tide pulling him under.
βSaβnokβ¦β he whispered, voice low but certain. βI am.β
The next morning arrived wrapped in the soft hush of dawn, the reef pools shifting with pale turquoise light as the sun crested the horizon. Aoβnung walked with a tautness in his stride, shoulders squared but not relaxed, the weight of the bracelet tucked securely into the small leather pouch at his hip. His chest felt tight with a mixture of anticipation and dread, a heaviness that had followed him since the moment Ronal had declared his chosen pattern one meant for lovers. He had slept poorly, waking each time he rolled over and felt the pouch press against his ribs. Each time he touched it, the shells clicked together like tiny heartbeats, reminding him of what he had built with his own hands.
The village market center stirred with life as he stepped into it. Children darted between woven stands, carpenters arranged their tools, and elders spread their crafted nets to dry in the sun. The air smelled of tide-brush and smoked fish, with hints of sweet sea moss drifting from a nearby cooking stand. Aoβnung scanned the open space with narrowed eyes, searching for you with the sharp alertness of a hunter on a reef.
He knew you would be here. Training with the young hunters happened in the mornings, but you often found reasons to slip awayβcuriosity pulling you toward the market, where artisans displayed goods from every corner of Metkayina life. You were always asking questions, touching the carved lines on fishbone tools, marveling over the way coral was polished into beads. The artisans adored you for your interest. Aoβnung adored you for reasons he was only starting to admit.
His gaze drifted past the woven baskets, past the drifting swaths of hanging kelp-fiber cloth, until it caught on your figure near the far corner of the marketplace. You stood with your back to him, shoulders relaxed, head tilted in that way you did when examining a detail closely. The beaded glass stall you loved so much was spread before you, shimmering with small translucent disks in every shade of the reef. The morning light streamed through them, scattering soft colors across your face and arms. You always looked peaceful there, like the world slowed down long enough for you alone.
Aoβnung felt his lips tug upward in an involuntary smile. He took one step toward you.
His foot stilled when he noticed you were not alone.
A young Metkayina man stood beside you, leaning slightly toward your shoulder. Aoβnung recognized him immediately. RΓ€βkom, one of the newer apprentices in the hunter ranks. His build was slim but toned, and his expression held an easy friendliness that had always grated on Aoβnung for reasons he never bothered to question.
You were laughing. The sound carried lightly over the tide breeze, warm and bright, the kind of laugh that always made Aoβnung feel like the ocean beneath him grew warmer. Your shoulders shook as you nudged RΓ€βkomβs arm in that casual way you sometimes touched your friends when relaxed. The sight tightened Aoβnungβs jaw, not in anger but in a sharp, twisting unease he had not expected.
RΓ€βkom gestured toward one of the hanging bead strings, pointing out a detail you leaned in to inspect. The man was close, closer than Aoβnung liked. Your arm brushed his as you reached up to touch a strand of shimmering green glass. RΓ€βkomβs grin widened at your reaction. He said something low and smooth, and your laugh came again.
Aoβnungβs stomach dropped like a stone sinking into deep water.
RΓ€βkomβs hand slipped into the pouch at his waist. He pulled out a small woven object, the kind typically exchanged only during TΓ¬yawn Trr. It was unmistakable; a bracelet. A neat one, carefully crafted, shells arranged in a pattern that looked intentional and practiced.
Aoβnung stood frozen in place as RΓ€βkom lifted the bracelet slightly, the gesture shy but hopeful. The movement was unmistakably a prelude to offering it. The young man looked at you with nerves trembling in his smile.
The world around Aoβnung muffled, shrinking down to a low roar beneath his ribs. His pulse quickened with a sudden, raw ache, a coil of disbelief tightening in his chest. His hand drifted reflexively to the pouch at his hip where his bracelet rested. The shells inside felt heavier now, almost cold.
The marketplace continued buzzing around him, unaware. Nets flapped, voices rose, children ran. Yet for Aoβnung, everything blurred except for the sight of the young man holding out that woven loop.
A breath shuddered in his throat. His shoulders squared instinctively, though his legs refused to move forward. His ears angled back slightly, betraying every flicker of hurt he tried to hide. The sight carved into him like a sharpened bone.
He whispered under his breath, barely audible.
βKeheβ¦ not today.β
His hand tightened around the pouch.
RΓ€βkom held out the bracelet fully.
Aoβnungβs jaw clenched, but still he stood rooted, watching.
Your joy was unmistakable. The warmth that spread across your features was the kind that always made people around you soften, the kind that seemed to draw the sun itself closer. You held RΓ€βkomβs bracelet in both hands, lifting it to eye level, tilting it slightly so the beads and shells caught the morning light. Your smile widened with each detail you discovered. Your lips parted with excitement as you spokeβquick, animated words, pointing at the small carvings in the shells, tracing the curved pattern with your fingertips. Aoβnung recognized your rambling immediately. You only spoke like that when you felt genuinely delighted.
RΓ€βkom puffed up with pride, shoulders straightening, eyes glimmering under the praise he received. When he laughed, it came from deep in his chest, low and pleased, as if your reaction alone had made his entire day worthwhile.
Your joy built until there was no holding it in. You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, an embrace so quick and bright it knocked the breath from both of you. His arms lifted in surprise before he returned it lightly, careful hands touching the middle of your back.
Aoβnungβs breath stuttered. His spine locked straight. His ears pricked, flattening halfway before angling sharply back. The muscles in his neck tightened as your body pressed into RΓ€βkomβs.
You stepped back, smiling so earnestly it made Aoβnung sick with the sudden heaviness in his stomach. Without hesitation, you bent down and slid the bracelet over your ankle, adjusting it so the main shell sat centered against your skin, glowing faintly against the sunlit blue of your leg. You wiggled your foot in the sand to test its weight, laughing softly at how it jingled.
RΓ€βkom said something else and you nodded brightly. You waved before the two of you parted ways, him heading toward the deeper market paths while you turned back toward the shoreline, humming under your breath, still admiring the new bracelet with delighted fingertips.
Your eyes lifted and you saw him.
Aoβnung stood alone at the far edge of the space, half in shadow, half painted by the rising morning light. His posture was rigid, too controlled. His hands hung stiffly at his sides. His expression was unreadable at first glance, but the sharp set of his jaw, the deep furrow between his brows, and the faint twitch of his tail betrayed what simmered beneath the surface.
You brightened instantly, the way you always did when spotting him. Your hand rose in a lively wave, fingers fluttering in greeting, posture lifting with familiar excitement. Your smile was open, warm, hopeful, an instinctive response to the person you most often sought out.
Aoβnung looked at you. From your shining smile to the freshly placed bracelet on your ankle, to the hand still lifted, waiting for him to return the gesture.
His eyes tightened.
His chest sank.
He turned without a word.
You froze mid-wave as he pivoted sharply on his heel, walking away with long, controlled strides that carried tension in every line of his back. He didnβt look over his shoulder. He didnβt pause. His tail cut through the air once, sharply, betraying more emotion than his careful steps ever would.
Your hand lowered slowly, confusion rising like a cold tide in your chest.
Aoβnung disappeared behind a row of woven stalls, leaving you standing in the center of the market with the new bracelet glinting against your ankle, wondering why the sight of you had sent him fleeing into the reef wind.
The sun drifted higher across the sky, casting a shimmering blanket of gold across the reef as the tide receded. Water lapped quietly at your ankles as you walked along the shallow pools with Neteyam and Loβak trailing close behind. The reefs glowed beneath the light, their colors rich and shifting, the perfect canvas for inspiration. You had brought the brothers here with a purpose, though neither of them seemed to take that purpose very seriously at first.
Your mind kept drifting back to Aoβnung. His face when he saw you earlier, the way he turned away without a word. It pressed against your chest in an unwelcome heaviness, but you tried to push it aside. TΓ¬yawn Trr was approaching, and you wanted your gift for him to be perfect. The thought alone made your chest flicker with warmth, even if a small hollow ache had settled beneath it.
Neteyam walked ahead, crouching beside a tide pool. He dipped his hand into the water, examining a cluster of small, pearl-toned stones that glowed faintly beneath the surface. His expression shifted into one of quiet contemplation, as though he was cataloging each detail. He always did thatβthought deeply, silently. You wondered briefly if he was crafting something for Tuk or simply indulging in the beauty around him.
Loβak, on the other hand, was sprawled on a flat coral shelf nearby, a half-finished woven cord in his hands. The earlier confidence heβd shown around the other warriors this morning was completely gone now. He stared at the knots with a dramatic frown, ears angled with exaggerated despair. βWhy do these cords hate me?β he muttered, tugging at them. βI swear Eywa curses me every time I try to make gifts.β
You crouched beside him, brushing aside a handful of his cast-off beads. βThe cord hates you because you pull at it like you are strangling a fish,β you replied, lifting one of the knots gently to show him.
Loβak blinked, insulted. βI do not strangle fish.β
He paused, thought, and huffed. βAlright, maybe one time.β
Your lips curved as you helped him adjust the weave. He made a soft clicking noise with his tongue as he watched you work, a silent gratitude youβd grown used to.
βTsireya will like it,β you murmured, sliding one of the sea-blue beads into place. βShe appreciates effort. Not perfection.β
Loβak side-eyed you with a crooked grin. βAre you calling me imperfect?β
βI am calling you hopeless.β
He nudged your shoulder with his own, playful and warm. βThat is better.β
You sat back and let him continue the knot on his own, while your gaze drifted across the reefβs giftsβthe shells washed up by last nightβs tide, the polished stones gleaming like moonlit scales, the drifting strips of kelp that could be dried and woven into charms. You wanted something that spoke to Aoβnung himself, not just beauty. He loved plunge diving more than almost anyone in the village, always pushing himself off the highest ledges, slicing into the sea with perfect form. He loved bodysurfing too, catching waves with controlled power, moving like a creature born from the tide.
A gift that reflected that devotion would be ideal.
Loβak caught the direction of your gaze and groaned loudly. βYou have that look again.β
βWhat look?β you asked, blinking.
βThe one where your brain is running circles. What are you even doing out here?β
You sighed, feeling your cheeks warm despite the breeze brushing your skin. βI am looking for a TΓ¬yawn Trr gift. For Aoβnung.β
Loβak choked on his own spit. Neteyam straightened so abruptly he nearly slipped into the tide pool.
Loβak stared at you with betrayal flashing across his face. βAnd I am just now hearing this?β
βIt is not a secret,β you murmured, tracing your fingertips along a shellβs edge.
βIt absolutely is,β he countered, pointing the woven cord at you accusingly. βYou have been walking around glowing like an ikran egg all morning, and now I know why.β His expression softened suddenly, eyes narrowing with familiar mischief. βYou like him.β
Heat crawled up your neck instantly, blooming across your cheeks. βDo not say it like that,β you grumbled.
Neteyam finally spoke, his voice steady but clearly amused. βThey do not have to say it. It is clear enough.β
You spluttered, but Loβak only grew more delighted, scooting closer until he could nudge your knee. βYou like him,β he repeated, sing-song, ears high and smug.
βYou both sound like children,β you snapped, though it came out soft and embarrassed.
Loβak leaned back on his palms, tail flicking lazily behind him. βWell, Tsireya told me something interesting.β He paused, letting the suspense build. You glared. He continued only after drawing a deep, dramatic breath. βAoβnung has been working on a TΓ¬yawn Trr gift too.β
Your heart stilled mid-beat.
Loβakβs grin widened as he watched your expression shift. βOh yes. He has been trying very hard. Reya said he was acting strange last night. Quiet. Focused. You know how he gets when he is pretending he is not nervous.β
Your cheeks flamed, eyes dropping to your hands in your lap. βHe made a gift?β you whispered.
Neteyam chuckled lowly, arms crossing over his chest. βThey are flustered,β he said to Loβak, as though you couldnβt hear them.
βI am not flustered,β you said quickly.
Loβak tilted his head with unearned confidence. βYour ears are glowing.β
Your hands flew to your ears immediately, betraying you further when the brothers both laughed. You tried to glare at them, but the embarrassment was too warm, too tangled with something else. Joy. Hope. An almost overwhelming sense of anticipation you had tried to suppress ever since Aoβnung turned his back on you.
Loβak nudged your shoulder gently. βYou should talk to him. He has been weird today.β
Neteyam nodded in agreement. βHe is hiding from himself again. You are the only one who can untangle that.β
Your chest tightened with a mix of confusion and longing. βHe would not even wave at me,β you whispered. βI do not know what I did.β
Neteyamβs expression softened, wise and calm as always. βAoβnung is not angry with you,β he said. βHe is angry with his own heart. That is a far fiercer battle.β
Loβak snorted. βHe is an idiot. Just talk to him.β
You pressed your palm over your racing heart, breath unsteady.
You wanted to.
You wanted him more than the tide wanted the moon.
Night descended softly over the village, carrying with it the glowing hush that always preceded TΓ¬yawn Trr. Pale light swirled across the waves as the moons rose, their twin reflections shimmering like braided silver across the horizon. The entire clan gathered on the shore, laughter and excitement drifting through the air like fireflies caught in a gentle breeze. Dancers warmed themselves with stretches at the waterβs edge. Mothers painted their childrenβs cheeks with bioluminescent paste. Young couples lingered close, brushing hands and sharing shy smiles. It was a night for vulnerability, for emotion laid bare, for the courage to offer oneβs heart in the open air.
The Metkayina tide-dance always began on the first night of TΓ¬yawn Trr. Tsireya performed in it each year, moving through the moonlit water as if woven from its flow. Aoβnung always stood close by to watch her, his posture protective, even when he pretended otherwise. You expected nothing different tonight.
The gift you prepared for him rested safely inside a small pouch tied at your hip. It was a charm crafted from polished tideglass you had found on the reef earlier that day, shaped naturally into a smooth curve reminiscent of the arc formed during his plunge dives. You threaded it onto a cord braided from strands of seaweed fiber and soft rope. You chose it because it reminded you of him; strong, bright, shaped by the water he loved. You wanted to give it to him before the dance began, before the pounding of your heart drowned your courage.
The shore glowed with blue-white light as you walked along the packed sand, stepping carefully around tide pools that reflected both moons like mirrored eyes. Your gaze swept the gathering crowd, searching for a familiar silhouette. It didnβt take long to find it. Aoβnung stood slightly inland, half in the glow of a woven torch and half in moonlit shadow. He stood flanked by Tsireya on one side and Rotxo on the other.
Tsireya wore her ceremonial beads, draped across her chest like cascading strands of ocean foam. Her skin glowed with painted swirls across her arms and stomach, turquoise and white, representing the tideβs unbroken rhythm. Her eyes were bright, her smile peaceful, the very image of Metkayina grace. Rotxo teased her about stumbling on the slippery rocks like she had last year, and she nudged him with playful indignation.
Aoβnung laughed, head thrown back slightly, shoulders relaxed for the first time since morning. Words rose in your throat, but they tangled as soon as your gaze met the scene again. He looked radiant under the moonlight, hair tied back loosely, the water-kelp strands woven through it catching faint light. The strong lines of his arms and chest glowed with faint markings his mother had painted for him earlierβsimple swirls at his collarbone, meant to honor family during TΓ¬yawn Trr. He had never looked more himself.
Your breath tightened as nervousness spiraled in your stomach, but you steadied it and took a step toward the trio.
They noticed you immediately.
Tsireyaβs laughter softened, her head turning. Rotxo followed her gaze. Aoβnungβs smile faltered, just enough for you to see, though he tried to mask it a second later by straightening his posture.
You lifted your hand in a small wave, offering a warm smile. βKaltxΓ¬,β you greeted, voice quiet but clear.
The moment stretched taut.
Tsireya exchanged a glance with Rotxo, subtle but unmistakably knowing. With the ease of someone who had been trained her entire life to preserve both dignity and opportunity, she reached for Rotxoβs wrist. βOh! Rotxo, letβs find the Sullyβs before the dance begins,β she announced, though her tone made it clear she had invented the excuse on the spot.
Rotxoβs confusion flickered across his face for a beat before realization dawned, and his expression shifted into an amused grin. βSrane,β he said, allowing her to lead him away.
Tsireya passed behind you but leaned close enough that only you could hear her whisper. βHe has been looking for you.β
Your heart nearly stumbled.
Aoβnung stood rigidly now, shoulders squared but tense, jaw set in a line that tried too hard to look unaffected. The moon cast a glow over his skin, lighting the edges of his featuresβthe high planes of his cheeks, the sharp contour of his jaw, the faint tremor of restraint in his posture. His eyes avoided yours for a moment, dragged sideways toward the horizon, as if he needed to steady himself before facing you fully.
The air between you shifted, thick with the weight of morning misunderstandings and unsaid emotions.
The waves washed gently up the sand behind you as you stepped closer, the tide-dance drums beginning their slow, rhythmic heartbeat far down the beach.
You offered him a soft smile that carried every piece of courage you had gathered today. βAoβnung,β you said quietly. βMay I speak with you?β
He exhaled through his nose in a short, sharp breath, rolling his eyes like the request itself was an inconvenience. The gesture was familiar, so unmistakably himβequal parts dramatic and defensiveβbut the way he turned to face you fully betrayed the truth. No matter how annoyed he looked, he was listening. He always had listened to you, even when he pretended not to.
His brows pulled together, and his lip curled slightly at one corner, giving him the expression of a young hunter being dragged somewhere he did not want to go. βWhat do you want?β he asked, the words edged with irritation. His tone was not loud enough to draw attention, but it carried a bite meant to keep you at armβs length.
Your breath faltered. His sharpness stung, not deeply, but enough to make you glance around subtly to ensure no one was watching. The tide-dance preparations kept the crowd distracted, thankfully. Tsireya and Rotxo were nowhere near. Still, heat crept up your neck, and you dropped your gaze to the sand between your feet for a moment.
Your fingers fidgeted with the pouch at your hip, rubbing the woven edge in a nervous rhythm. You steadied your breath and tried again, softer this time. βHappy TΓ¬yawn Trr.β
Aoβnung waved a hand dismissively, not bothering to return the greeting. βSrane, whatever,β he muttered. His tone was clipped, his posture rigid, but his eyes were not on your face. They drifted downward, lingering on your ankle with a look you could not fully decipher. His jaw flexed as he stared at the bracelet resting there, the one you had received earlier.
βAre you finished?β he asked, his voice growing more impatient. βWhat do you want, really?β
Your pulse thudded loudly inside your ears. His eyes flicked up to meet yours for the first time, and under that sharp gaze, all the carefully rehearsed words collapsed. The truth reached your tongue before you could control it.
βWho did you make a gift for this TΓ¬yawn Trr?β
The words rang through the air between you like a stone dropping into still water.
Aoβnungβs entire body went still.
His chest rose with a slowΒ inhale, and his nostrils flared slightly. His ears angled back by the smallest degree, subtle but unmistakable. His gaze hardened, though not in anger but more like someone who had been struck in the one place he kept unguarded.
His throat bobbed once as he swallowed, keeping his eyes locked on yours. You could see the exact moment the question hit him, see the ripple of surprise he tried to bury beneath irritation.
βWhy do you care?β he asked, but the words lacked the cutting edge he had intended. His voice caught slightly on the last word, betraying him more than anything else.
You opened your mouth, but he continued before you could speak.
βYou already have a bracelet,β he added, nodding sharply toward your ankle. His voice dipped lower, thick with a tension he tried to hide. βSomeone already gave you one. So why ask me?β
The moonlight caught the shimmer of emotion in his eyes, a flicker of hurt buried beneath the annoyance. His tail twitched once behind him, stiff and uneasy. He held himself too upright, too controlled, as if afraid his posture alone would give away his heart.
Your tongue felt heavy as you forced yourself to speak. βBecause I heardβ¦ that you made one.β
Aoβnungβs breath hitched. The slightest tremor ran through his shoulders, quick as lightning and just as telling. His hand drifted toward his hip unconsciously, where the pouch holding his bracelet rested beneath his ceremonial wrap, hidden from sight but unmistakable to anyone who knew him well.
He dropped his gaze to the sand for a brief moment, jaw tightening.
Your voice softened. βIs it true?β
The silence stretched.
A long wave rolled onto the shore nearby, the foam brushing your feet like a whispered encouragement. Aoβnung closed his eyes for a heartbeat, gathering himself, fighting some invisible pull inside his ribs.
When he looked at you again, his guard was half-lowered. Not fully. Aoβnung rarely allowed himself full vulnerability.Β
His voice came out quieter, rough around the edges. βMaybe I did.β
Your heart jumped.
Aoβnung looked away again quickly, as if the admission physically pained him. His ears twitched in a flustered rhythm, and he rubbed the back of his neck with a tense, frustrated gesture. Every piece of body language screamed conflict; jealousy, uncertainty, longing, pride.
He glanced back at your ankle, at the bracelet you wore from RΓ€βkom.
His expression tightened.
βIt does not matter now,β he muttered.
You stepped closer before you could stop yourself, the sand shifting softly under your feet. Aoβnung stiffened, but he didnβt move away. Your proximity unsettled him; you could see it in the way his chest rose faster, in the flick of his tail, in the way his fingers hovered at his hip, brushing the pouch holding the bracelet he had made.
You swallowed gently. βAoβnung, it does matter.β
His eyes snapped to yours, sharp and startled. His jaw locked, and his expression contorted into a defensive grimace, as if instinct commanded him to armor his heart before you could see the wound beneath it.
He scoffed, though the sound cracked slightly. βWhy do you care what gift I made? Shouldnβt you be with RΓ€βkom? He seems very eager to please you. Very eager toβ¦ cling.β
The word came out coated in irritation, but underneath it lived something deeper. Something wounded. Something that trembled.
Your breath stopped short.
The remark pierced you with unexpected force. Warmth drained from your face, and your mouth parted, though no words came at first. Tears threatened at the corners of your eyes, blurring the moonlit shore. You blinked them back quickly, refusing to let them fall. You had come here with hope, not to be cut open by his jealousy, but his misunderstanding carved through you before you could shield yourself.
Aoβnung noticed, too late. His ears flicked, but he did not take back the words. Pride kept him rigid, even as guilt flickered across the edges of his gaze.
You swallowed the ache in your throat and reached into the pouch tied at your hip. Your hands shook slightly as you pulled out the gift you had made for him. The charm glowed faintly under the moonlight, catching every shift of the tide.
Aoβnung frowned, the harsh lines of his face faltering with confusion. His brows pulled together, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but you pushed forward before your courage evaporated into the night.
βThisβ¦ this is for you,β you said quickly, stepping closer, though your voice trembled. βI made it for TΓ¬yawn Trr.β
His eyes widened fractionally. You continued before he had time to retreat behind that hardened mask again.
βI made it because it reminded me of you. It curves like the arc of your body when you plunge-dive. It is strong and smooth, shaped by the water you love. I wanted to give it to you becauseβ¦β Your fingers tightened around the charm as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. βBecause I care for you. More than I can hide.β
Aoβnung froze, breath caught in his chest.
You felt the words building inside you, filling your lungs with unbearable pressure until they spilled out in a rambling rush you could not stop.
βAnd yes, I saw RΓ€βkom today, but it was not what you think. He offered me a gift because he is kind and thought I would appreciate it. I accepted because it would have been rude not to, and because I did not knowβ¦ I did not know you had made a gift too. I wanted to ask you. I wanted to find you. I wanted to give this to you before the dance becauseβEywa, Aoβnung, please listenβI have feelings for you. I have for a long time. Iββ
Your voice cracked softly, raw with sincerity. βI wanted you to know that before I grew too afraid to say it.β
Aoβnung stared at you with the expression of someone whose world had tilted, whose lungs forgot how to draw breath. His pupils widened, swallowing the blue of his irises until they glowed deep under the twin moons. His throat bobbed once, twice.
His voice finally emerged, barely louder than the tide brushing the shore.
βWhat about RΓ€βkom?β
Real confusion flickered through your chest, slowing your breath. βWhat about him?β
Aoβnung gestured stiffly toward your ankle, where the bracelet rested. His jaw tightened in fear of the answer he expected. βYou wore his gift. You hugged him. You laughed with him. You lookedβ¦ happy.β
He swallowed hard, eyes searching yours like he feared your next words might crush him entirely. βDid youβ¦ choose him?β
Your breath caught sharply. The question held so much raw uncertainty, that you felt your chest tighten in response. You stepped toward him instinctively, shaking your head so quickly your braids stirred around your shoulders. βNo,β you said, voice trembling with urgency. βAoβnung, no. I did not choose him. I thought the bracelet was a friendship gift.β
Aoβnung blinked once, stunned. His lips parted as if he had expected every answer except that one. His ears twitched upward with cautious disbelief, and the tension in his shoulders loosened a fraction. βA friendship gift?β he echoed.
βYes,β you insisted. βI thought it was a thank-you. Or a celebration gift. I did not knowβ¦β
Aoβnung stared for a long moment before bursting into laughter.
Not a polite laugh. Not a soft chuckle. A loud, unrestrained bark of amusement that echoed across the sand. His head tipped back, shoulders shaking, breath spilling out in waves of surprise and exasperation. The sound was wild and incredulous, as if the universe itself had played a joke on him so ridiculous he could only laugh to stay sane.
Your eyes widened. You glanced around, confused, but the dancers were too far down the shoreline to hear him. Torches flickered in the distance. The drums throbbed like a heartbeat swallowed by the tide.
βAoβnung?β you asked, bewildered. βWhat is so funny?β
He dragged a hand down his face, still wheezing with laughter. βEywaβ¦ you truly did not know.β
βKnow what?β you demanded.
Aoβnungβs smile softened, still amused, but gentler now. He crouched down without warning, and your breath hitched when his hands circled your ankle with unexpected intimacy. His fingers were warm against your skin, steady and sure as he lifted your foot slightly, guiding you to balance against his shoulder if needed.
Goosebumps prickled up your leg.
You looked down at him, heart skittering.
βAoβnung,β you whispered cautiously. βWhat are you doing?β
His thumb traced the edges of the bracelet that RΓ€βkom had given you. His expression shifted into something almost pitying, though not unkind. βRΓ€βkom did not give you a friendship bracelet,β he said quietly. βThis pattern here, the spiral into a fan shape on the second shell? That is a courtship pattern. He offered you intent. Not companionship.β
A sharp gasp escaped your throat. Heat flooded your face as you stared at the bracelet like it had betrayed you. βNo way,β you squeaked. βI did notβAoβnung, I swear, I did not know.β
He laughed again, but softer this time, a sound tinged with relief and disbelief rather than bitterness. βI can tell,β he said, smiling up at you with a softened expression that made your knees weaken. βIf you had known, you would not have accepted it. Not if you planned to give me that gift you made.β
Your heartbeat stumbled, caught somewhere between embarrassment and hope.
Aoβnung slipped one hand to his hip, untied the small pouch he had guarded since yesterday, and pulled out the bracelet he had made for you.
Moonlight washed over it.
The shells glowed softly, the violet spiral at the center shining with a subtle iridescent hue. Each bead lay in perfect balance with the next, woven into a pattern that curved like a gentle wave folding against the shore. It was breathtaking. You stared, awe flooding you so completely you forgot how to breathe.
Aoβnung stayed crouched before you, his tail flicking in nervous anticipation despite the controlled set of his shoulders. He held the bracelet as if it were a sacred relic, his expression caught somewhere between pride and vulnerability.
βThis is for you,β he said, his voice low and steady. βI worked on it until my fingers ached.β
Your chest tightened painfully.
Aoβnung looked up at you, eyes unguarded for the first time since morning. βMay I?β
Your throat bobbed. βYes,β you breathed.
He moved with surprising tenderness. His fingers slid under your ankle, lifting it slightly. He untied RΓ€βkomβs bracelet with quick, deft movements, quicker than he had managed when weaving his own. His touch was firm but gentle, the pads of his fingers warm against your skin.
Once the old bracelet slipped free, Aoβnung pocketed it with a flick of his wrist, a decisive motion that left no question about his intention.
Your pulse fluttered wildly as he took your giftβhis giftβand tied it carefully around your ankle. He adjusted the placement twice, making sure the violet shell sat directly at the center. When he finished, his thumb traced the top bead softly, almost reverently.
His voice dropped into a whisper, meant only for you.
βThis one is mine.β
Your breath left you in a shaky exhale as you stared down at him, your heart full to bursting. The bracelet rested against your skin, glowing faintly with reflected moonlight, each shell warm where Aoβnungβs fingers had touched it. The weight of it settled into your ankle like a promise made out loud, a vow that had moved from his hands to your body with absolute intention. You swallowed the knot in your throat, lowering your gaze to him with a softness you had never dared express before.
βIt is perfect,β you whispered.
The words melted into the night, quiet but sincere.
Aoβnungβs face lit with pride, bright and brilliant in a way that made your chest ache. His smile spread wide across his face, sharp and boyish, the kind that always managed to disarm you no matter how many times you saw it. Confidence washed over him with renewed strength, rolling through his posture, straightening his spine, lifting his chin. His eyes glimmered under the twin moons like polished obsidian, warm and mischievous.
βOf course it is,β he said, voice dipping into that familiar smugness. βI made it.β
You let out a breathless giggle, unable to restrain the bubbling joy in your chest. βEywa, you are impossible,β you teased, nudging your foot against his knee.
Aoβnungβs grin sharpened into something unmistakably him. His tail flicked behind him, betraying his excitement, and his eyes roamed your face with a hunger that had nothing to do with arrogance. His hands moved from your ankle to rest gently on your calves, warm palms pressing against your skin as he began to rise from his crouch.
Your teasing spiraled into the air between you like bait, and Aoβnung lunged for it without hesitation.
His hands shot upward, fingers wrapping around your wrists in a swift, deliberate motion. His touch was strong but not harsh, anchoring you as effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. A startled gasp escaped your lips as he tugged you downward with him, your balance slipping forward, body tilting into his pull.
Your knees hit the sand beside him, and your breath caught at the closeness. Aoβnungβs face hovered inches from yours, his hair falling forward slightly, brushing against your cheek like the soft sweep of tidewater. His chest rose in a slow, controlled breath, though the flicker in his eyes betrayed the storm beneath itβthe overwhelming need to close the space between you.
He leaned in with a low murmur, his voice velvet-thick. βTease me like that again,β he whispered, βand I will not let you walk away.β
Your heart thudded against your ribs so hard it almost hurt.
Before you could respond, he closed the final inch between you.
His lips found yours in a kiss that stole every breath from your body.
Aoβnung kissed like the tide; powerful, consuming, and entirely sure of its claim. His mouth pressed against yours with a heated certainty, molding to your lips as if they were carved to fit together. His grip on your wrists loosened only enough to slide his hands upward, fingers brushing your forearms before settling at your waist, pulling you closer with a slow, deliberate strength.
Your breath hitched as his lips parted slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Warmth spread from the point of contact, blooming across your chest in a wave that curled your toes against the sand. His tongue brushed softly against your lower lip, tasting you with a reverence buried beneath his confidence. You answered him instinctively, leaning in, fingers sliding up to clutch the muscles of his shoulders.
Aoβnung groaned into your mouthβa guttural sound born from months of buried longing. The vibration of it rolled through your chest, making your pulse stumble. His thumbs pressed into your waist on either side, guiding you closer until you straddled his thighs in the sand without even realizing you had moved. The world tilted as he adjusted his hold, one hand rising to cradle the back of your head, weaving into your hair to keep you exactly where he needed you.
The kiss grew slower but deeper, as if he wanted to memorize every shift of your breath, every tremble of your lips, every soft sound you released. His nose brushed the side of yours, warm and intimate. His breath mingled with yours in soft bursts, and the heat of his chest pressed firmly against you, anchoring you to him as if the ocean itself had pulled you into his tide.
When your lips parted for air, Aoβnung chased you with a hungry, eager kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another along the curve of your jaw. His breath fanned across your skin, warm and uneven. βYou have no idea,β he whispered against your cheek, βhow long I have wanted to do that.β
Your head tipped back slightly, breath trembling as you pulled him closer. His grip on your waist tightened just enough to make your pulse jump. His lips traced back to yours, brushing with maddening slowness until he captured your mouth again, deeper this time, as if he needed to seal the reality of you into his lungs.
The tide-dance drums echoed distantly across the shore.
But Aoβnung heard nothing except the sound of your breath mingling with his.
-`β‘Β΄- lo'ak x reader | TΓYAWN TRR β PANDORAβS DAY OF LOVE
a/n | hi!! i'm posting this a day early just cus i realized i won't have time tomorrow to do so!! AND AAA I LOVE VALENTINE'S DAY. STARTING OFF WITH LO'AK CAUSE I <3 HIM THE MOST!!! i hope u guys can tell i put so much love into this, he's so dear to me!!
synopsis | sharing glowfruit is a TΓ¬yawn Trr tradition meant to reveal true feelings. lo'ak brings you the rarest one without realizing itβs a courtship fruit, and now heβs panicking.
The forest shimmered with soft bioluminescent threads woven through the understory, tiny specks of light caught on every leaf like the forest itself was holding its breath for the arrival of TΓ¬yawn Trr. You stepped carefully between roots thick as your arms, humming a quiet melody your mother used to sing during this season. The Omatikaya believed that TΓ¬yawn Trr wove hearts closer not only to one another but to Eywa as well. The day honored affection as a living force, powerful enough to shape the bonds between clans, families, and lovers. For the people of the forest, love was not a fleeting spark but a deep-rooted vine, growing strong when tended with intention. Gifts crafted for this day were meant to carry the makerβs spirit, their care held in every twist of fiber and bead. You wanted your offering to carry that sincerity, to speak clearly even if your voice might fail.
Nearby, a low mound of moss shifted color as your shadow passed over it, reacting to your presence with soft blue ripples. You knelt by a patch of flowering brush whose petals curled inward to protect thin threads of silver pollen. These plants were treasured during TΓ¬yawn Trr because their pollen created a dye that caught light in a shimmering blue glow when painted on cords or beads. A cord tinted with this dye was often given to someone cherished, its glow meant to represent the warmth they brought into anotherβs life. You brushed the petals with reverence, murmuring a quiet βIrayo, saβnok,β before harvesting only what Eywa allowed. Your fingers worked with steady care, separating the petals from their stems, slipping the pollen gently into a pouch at your hip. The forestβs breath seemed to deepen around you, as if acknowledging your intention.
A low trill of insects rolled across the clearing, joined by the whispering steps of nocturnal creatures waking early. You leaned close to examine another cluster of plants, their roots spiraling upward in elegant arcs. These produced a deep violet dye used for marking woven bracelets. Among the Omatikaya, violet symbolized trust. You reached forward to loosen the soil around the roots, savoring the quiet. Each small detail mattered during TΓ¬yawn Trr. The forestβs hush, your own heartbeat steadying with purpose, the weight of the pouch at your side growing with potential gifts. These simple moments of creation felt sacred.
The sudden crash of leaves overhead shattered the peace like a stone dropped into still water. A large shadow plummeted toward you, landing so close your breath leapt painfully into your throat. Your hand flew to the knife at your hip as you staggered backward, every muscle winding tight. The heartbeat you had just steadied now thundered wildly in your ears. A familiar laugh burst through the clearing, full of shameless triumph.
βEywa, your face is priceless,β he wheezed, struggling to speak through his laughter. His tail whipped behind him in loose circles and his fangs flashed in a grin so wide it nearly split his cheeks. He planted his hands on his hips, chest rising proudly as if he had just performed some grand feat of heroics instead of scaring the breath out of you. βCome on, that was a tiny jump. You should have seen your ears. They went straight up, like pah, haloing your head.β
A laugh almost escaped you, yet the adrenaline still buzzing through your body kept it tangled in your chest. βLoβak te Suli,β you hissed, ears angling back, βif you wished for my death, there were kinder ways.β
His grin widened into a smirk that could melt bark. βI was giving you a thrill. You looked very focused. Thought I should remind you to stay alert. The forest is full of surprises.β
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt and swung your arm toward his shoulder, aiming to smack him for the scare. Loβak jerked back with an exaggerated gasp, laughing as he dodged your strike with a ridiculous flourish of movement. He danced out of reach as if performing for an audience of spirits, tail flicking in smug little arcs behind him. βAh, ah, careful,β he said, stepping just out of your reach again. βI am fragile. Very delicate. You would break me.β
βYou?β You scoffed as you crouched again to stash the violet roots and silver pollen safely inside your woven pouch. βFragile? You jump out of trees for fun.β
βI also land very beautifully,β Loβak replied, crouching beside you with the same energy as an ikran pup sniffing trouble. His eyes narrowed playfully as he watched you tuck each harvested plant with deliberate care. βWhat are you doing, anyway? You looked like you were performing surgery on the dirt.β
You finished tying the pouch shut before rising to your feet, brushing soil from your knees as you faced him fully. A smile spread across your face with a warmth you tried to hold back but failed to contain. βGathering dyes. For gifts. For TΓ¬yawn Trr.β
Loβakβs ears perked at the joy in your voice. His expression shifted from teasing curiosity into something softer that curled around your ribs. βYou are excited,β he said, lips curving upward as though the sight pleased him more than he cared to admit. βLook at you. Eyes bright like fireflies. Tail swaying."
Your tail flicked behind you in a poorly timed betrayal. βI am not that excited.β
His eyebrows rose with unspoken disbelief. βYou have been talking about TΓ¬yawn Trr for three days. You nearly tackled Kiri because she mentioned braiding flowers into cords. You dragged Tuk into the weaversβ den to help you sort beads even though Tuk kept trying to eat the shiny ones.β
βThat only happened twice,β you muttered.
Loβak snorted with open amusement. βYouβre scary during this season. A tiny whirlwind of glitter and plant juice.β
βYou say that like it is a bad thing.β
βIt is terrifying,β he declared with dramatic severity that lasted only long enough for his grin to return. He nudged your shoulder with his own, gentle despite his teasing tone. βBut kind of cute.β
Heat flushed up your cheeks. You turned away in a futile attempt to hide it, stepping toward the direction of Hometree. Loβak followed easily, falling into step beside you with the relaxed gait of someone who enjoyed matching your pace more than rushing ahead. The path back to the village wound through tall trunks and soft leaf-litter that glowed faintly under your feet. Fireflies drifted lazily between branches, casting floating beads of light around you. The forest felt quieter now, as if settling to listen.
Your excitement bubbled up again as the two of you walked. Thoughts overflowed before you could contain them. βI still need to grind the purple roots into paste,β you began, fingers motioning as though you could shape the dye already. βThat will go on the cords for my mother and for TsahΓ¬k. I picked silver pollen for Kiri because it makes beads glow under moonlight. I found little water-blue petals for Tuk because she likes bright colors. Oh, and I want to weave new bands for the warriors, so I asked Neytiri if I could take a few strands from the old hammock ropes because they carry strong memory.β
Loβak blinked. βWait, how many gifts are you making?β
Your pace quickened with enthusiasm as you continued talking. βSeven so far. No, eight. Maybe nine if I can finish in time. I want each one to show the bond I share with every person. TΓ¬yawn Trr should honor connection, right? So I want each gift to feel different. Neytiri needs something elegant and peaceful, so I am thinking of warm red dye mixed with clay dust. And my brother wants new fletching decorations so I need feathers with bright tips. I still need to ask the stormbird nests for a few. They always shed plenty. Oh, and I want to carve small beads for the weavers so I can thank them for helping me. Maybe I should make sweets too. I can trade for the fruit mash. But I also want toββ
Loβak stopped walking entirely. His hands lifted in surrender, eyes wide with mock fear as he stared at you. βEywa help me. I have lost you. Your mind is gone. It has run away into a pile of beads.β
You huffed at him, though laughter pushed at the edges of your stern expression. βI am organized.β
βYou are possessed,β he corrected with great seriousness. βYour soul has been taken by TΓ¬yawn Trr spirits. They are whipping you like a paβli to run faster.β
βThat is not how spirits work.β
βIt is now,β he said, nudging your elbow again, this time leaving his arm pressed against yours just a moment longer before stepping forward. βYou are glowing. Not the plants. You. All this talk about gifts. It is like watching Tuk after she eats sugarfruit.β
A smile curled at your lips despite your attempt to scold him. Loβak watched the smile form with an expression he tried to hide beneath relaxed posture but could not. His tail brushed the ground in a lazy arc as if pleased simply by your happiness.
βYou like this day,β he said, voice dropping into a gentler tone that did not match his earlier teasing. βIt makes you bright. It pulls your spirit forward. I can see it.β
Your chest tightened as the words settled deep. The soft admiration in his voice felt more intimate than any fruit offering. You looked at him, meeting the golden glow of his eyes in the dim light. Loβak held your gaze without his usual bravado. His expression softened, not with vulnerability yet, but with affection he carried quietly when he let his guard rest.
βIt is a good look on you,β he murmured.
Your heart stumbled in your chest, and Loβak must have noticed because his smirk returned, sly and proud and entirely Loβak.
βLook at that,β he said, voice lilting upward, βyou blush faster than Tuk when she gets caught stealing berries.β
βI do not,β you countered.
Loβak just hummed, that stupid, knowing little sound rumbling in the back of his throat as he looked ahead, not even trying to hide the grin that pulled at his lips. He didnβt argue, didnβt need toβyour blush already answered for him. You bumped your shoulder into his just to make a point, but he only leaned back into you like it was nothing, warm and easy, like he belonged there.
The two of you walked in quiet for a while, the kind of silence that only ever grew between two people who were used to sharing space like this. Fireflies drifted lazily around your heads, blinking in and out of view like falling stars caught in a slow dance. The path ahead curved around thick tree roots, soft moss lighting up beneath each step. The sky above peeked through high branches, tinted pale blue under the twin moons, and you let yourself enjoy the peace, your fingers brushing the pouch at your hip where your dyes and petals rested.
Then the thought hit you like a branch to the head.
You perked up, turning sharply toward him. βWait. You never said why you were in the trees.β
Loβak looked over with a slow blink, one brow raised. βHuh?β
βYou just fell out of nowhere like a wild yerik,β you pressed, eyes narrowing as you tried to read his face. βWhat were you doing out here?β
He rolled his eyes and gave a lazy shrug. βLooking for TΓ¬yawn Trr gifts, obviously.β
You lit up immediately, ears perking forward like a ilu spotting a splash on the water. βWhat? You never do anything early. You always wait until the last minute and then panic because everythingβs gone and you try to give people stuff like, like rocks or feathers you found on the groundββ
βOkay, wow,β he cut in, laughing, hands going up as if youβd physically attacked him. βFirst of all, those feathers were cool. Big-ass warbird feathers. Kiri liked them.β
βShe said they smelled weird.β
βShe says everything smells weird,β he muttered, lips twitching. βWhatever. Point is, yes, Iβm actually getting stuff ahead of time this year.β
You squinted at him, suspicious but thrilled. βWhat did you get?β
Loβak just laughed again, the sound rough and bright, tilting his head to look at you like you were the forestβs most persistent predator. βEywa, can you chill?β he said, his grin wide and teasing. βIβll show you when we get back to my familyβs canopy.β
That was not the answer you wanted. You narrowed your eyes.
He smirked again, clearly pleased with himself.
So, you grabbed his hand.
Loβak barely had a second to react before you tugged him into a run, feet slapping soft against mossy ground, laughter breaking free from your chest. βCome on, skxawng! If you have gifts, Iβm seeing them now!β
βWaitβheyβI didnβt say right nowββ
βYouβre too slow!β
βI literally climbed a tree for you today!β
βYou fell out of it!β
He laughed hard, breath catching as he let you drag him forward, your fingers twined with his, warm and firm. His grip tightened after a few steps to keep hold better, like he was grounding himself in the fact that your hand was in his. His long legs easily caught your pace, and within moments he was running with you, not behind you, his body close beside yours, shoulder brushing yours every few steps.
The wind whipped through the trees around you, cool and sharp on your skin, tugging at your braids. You could hear Loβakβs breath as he ran, a little uneven, a little giddy. The canopy wasnβt far, tucked high into the side of a great home tree, woven platforms and rope bridges catching the warm glow of firelights above.
As you neared the first set of winding root stairs, Loβak called out breathlessly, βYou're really this desperate to see my presents, huh?β
βIβm making sure you didnβt try to give your mom a syaksyuk skull again.β
βThat was one time!β
βIt cracked open on the mat!β
He groaned dramatically, but he was still laughing when the two of you hit the steps. You didnβt stop running, didnβt even slowβjust dragged him up with you, hearts thudding in rhythm as you climbed toward the light.
He was still grinning when you reached the platform, chest rising and falling fast, hand still held in yours.
βI couldβve just told you what I got, you know,β he said, a little breathless now, eyes bright. βYou didnβt have to, like, full-on sprint through the forest.β
βThis is more fun.β
He looked at you for a beat. Not just your face, but the joy stretched across it, the way your lips curled when you were proud of yourself, the way your ears twitched with excitement you werenβt bothering to hide. His gaze softened, grin slipping into a small, gentle thing.
βYeah,β he said. βIt kinda is.β
Your fingers curled a little tighter around his, a silent answer carried through your skin. The warmth of his palm grounded you as you approached the upper levels of the Hometree, where the glowing woven walkways led to his familyβs private canopy.
Loβak stepped ahead to part the curtain of hanging vines that acted as the threshold to his familyβs space. You expected to hear voices inside, the usual hum of life, but the area was still. No one else had returned yet. Neteyam had patrol, and their parents rarely lingered this early before evening fire. The quiet settled around the two of you like a warm shell.Β
You ducked beneath the vines and stepped into the large, open space, lit with the flicker of woven lamps that cast gentle shadows over the hammock nets and carved mats. Loβak led you toward his cornerβhis own small sanctuary tucked near the back wall. A few feathers were tucked into the wallbeam beside his weapons. Stray beads and leather cords littered the low shelf where he stored his gear. He had always kept his space a little messy, but it felt lived-in, personal.Β
You let go of his hand once you stepped onto the soft woven mat, dropping into a comfortable seat beside the low shelf. You didnβt ask if you could. You never had to. You fit here, as natural as breath. Digging into your satchel, you carefully pulled out the pouch of violet root dye and untied it with care, laying out the pieces on a flattened leaf. Your hands moved with instinct as you sorted the roots by size and shape, readying them for grinding.
Behind you, Loβak moved with that same quiet ease, brushing past his bow and reaching for the small knife strapped to the wall. Its handle was worn smooth, the cord-wrapped grip shaped to his fingers over years. He lowered himself beside you, his body warm where it brushed yours. The moment had settled into that soft space between breath and heartbeat.
His eyes wandered to your dye, curiosity flickering across his face. You caught the glance, raising your brow.
βWhat?β you asked, smirking.
Loβak shook his head, lips twitching at the corners like he was holding back words. His eyes dropped to your hands, then back up. βClose your eyes.β
You blinked at him. βWhy?β
He tilted his head, giving you a look you knew too wellβmischief threaded with the tiniest thread of nerves. βBecause my gift is a surprise, and you ruin surprises with your big, nosy eyes.β
You laughed, shaking your head. βYou are the one who told me to come see it.β
βYeah, see it, not peek at it while Iβm still getting it out,β he shot back, nudging your knee with his. βCome on. Just close them.β
You hesitated, not out of distrust but because Loβak being serious about a gift felt like a rare eclipse. You didnβt want to miss a single flicker of it. But he was watching you with his chin tilted, waiting. His gaze held no smugness now, only that raw honesty he carried in quiet moments, the kind of look he got when he was trying to say what he couldnβt speak out loud.
So you exhaled through your nose and smiled, giving in. βFine. But if you drop a kali'weya in my lap, I swear to Eywaββ
You let your eyes close, the rest of the world narrowing down to the warmth of his presence beside you and the quiet rustle of him moving. The forest sounds drifted in softly through the woven walls; distant birdsong, the groan of bark shifting high above, the hush of the wind slipping through Hometreeβs upper branches. You felt the press of your knees against the mat, the slow rise and fall of your breath. The space was still, except for Loβakβs hands, working in silence.
Your heart beat a little faster with anticipation, thick and full behind your ribs as you waited. It was rare that Loβak got quiet like this. When he did, it always meant he was serious in a way he didnβt like to admit. You could hear the sound of a blade scraping gentlyβprobably slicing something delicate.Β
The air shifted as he leaned in closer.
βYou better still have your eyes shut,β he murmured near your ear.
You smiled. βI do.β
He went quiet again. The air between you grew still in a way that made your fingers curl slightly in your lap, palms pressing against the woven mat as if to ground yourself.Β
You didnβt speak. You didnβt want to break whatever this moment was becoming. The hush pressed around you like soft leaves brushing your skin, not suffocating, but not entirely comforting either. It wasnβt like Loβak to be this quiet for this long. He was usually talking, laughing, making some joke to fill the space. But right now, there was none of that.Β
A sudden shift in the air brought a smell to your nose; warm, sweet, almost dizzying. It hit gently at first, curling around the edges of your awareness like smoke before a fire. Your ears twitched, and you inhaled again, slower. It was fruity, but not like the overripe sweetness of sunfruit or the tart bite of those sour berries. Spider always tried to pretend were delicious. This was something smoother. Rich. Almost glowing in your nose before you even saw it. There was a hint of that deep jungle sweetness, the kind that made your mouth water before your mind even caught up.
You opened your mouth, ready to ask what exactly he had found, but the moment the first sound escaped your lips, Loβak cut in.
βAlright,β he said, voice carrying a little edge of triumph, almost smug. βYou can open them.β
Your eyes fluttered open slowly, blinking through the low golden light of the canopy. The first thing you saw was Loβakβs face. Cheeks full, lips sticky, smiling wide like a child caught sneaking sweets from the drying racks. His fingers were stained with juice, glowing faintly under the light of the room, and he was mid-chew when you finally took in what was sitting between you.
A glowfruit.
But not like any youβd ever seen before.
It sat in the middle of a wide leaf, freshly sliced, juices pooling like honey around each wedge. Its flesh pulsed with gentle luminescence, the color shifting between soft peach and gold, like sunset caught in jelly. The skin was smooth, thin, and shone with moisture, and the smellβEywa, the smell was intoxicating. Warm and floral, but rich, too, like rain on ripe bark.
Your breath caught in your throat.
Loβak swallowed the chunk heβd bitten into with an exaggerated gulp and wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, still grinning like heβd just presented you with a chest full of treasure.
βFound it way up near the high branches,β he said, nodding toward the fruit like it was a rare kill. βAlmost fell trying to grab it. The branch I was on cracked. Thought I was gonna die. Pretty normal, honestly.β He laughed, biting into another wedge, juice running slightly down his fingers. βBut as soon as I saw it, I knew. This was the one. This was your gift.β
You didnβt answer. You couldnβt. Your eyes were fixed on the fruit, wide and unmoving, not quite understanding what you were looking at. The glowfruit shimmered like it had been painted by moonlight, and the warmth it gave off, not heat, but presence, like a heartbeat, made your chest tighten.
Loβak kept chewing, unaware of your inner panic. βIt looked cool, smelled good. Sweet as hell. I was like, βyeah, theyβre gonna freak out for this.β You like pretty stuff. And itβs rare. The good ones always grow too high up, but this one justββ
βLoβak.β
You finally turned your head to look at him. His eyes flicked toward yours, mouth still slightly full, cheeks puffed like a child who had snuck into a bowl of fruit mash. He looked so casual, so proud of himself.
βDo you know what it means? What that fruit means?β
He blinked, tilted his head. βYeah. It means I climbed really high and didnβt break my ass.β
Your mouth parted in disbelief. βNo, Loβak.β
He gave a slow, exaggerated shrug, chewing the last bit before speaking around it. βItβs tasty. Itβs rare. I thought youβd like it. Thatβs what it means.β
βYou skxawng,β you breathed, voice flat with disbelief. βYou actual skxawng.β
His ears tilted back a little. Not quite offended, but surprised by the sudden shift in your tone.
βWhat?β he asked, brows furrowed. βWhat did I do?β
You stared at him, trying to find the words that would explain what he had just placed in front of you without understanding the weight of it. Glowfruit was not just pretty or rare. It was a courting fruit. A gift only ever offered to someone you wanted to bond withβtruly bond. You gave glowfruit when your heart had no more room for subtlety.Β
Your hands fell into your lap slowly as your thoughts reeled.
βYou gave me that fruit,β you said, voice quiet now. βLoβak. That is not just a nice gift.β
His mouth opened slightly, and the realization hadnβt reached his eyes yet. βOkay, butβ¦ you like it, right?β
You stared at him.
βLoβak.β
βAlright, alright,β he said, holding up his sticky hands like he was surrendering to a spirit. βMaybe I kind of knew. But also, like, I justββ He rubbed his neck, ears twitching now in genuine nerves. βI saw it, and I thought of you. Itβs shiny, and rare, and itβs got that glow. Makes the air feel warm. I dunno. It felt right. So I picked it.β
You blinked slowly.
βYouβre an idiot.β
Loβak snorted. βProbably.β
He leaned back on one hand, the other still messy with fruit juice, and grinned up at you like he wasnβt worried at all. But the way he was watching your face, the way his foot tapped lightly against the floorβhe was waiting. Waiting for you to say it was okay. That you liked it. That you understood what he meant without him having to explain it with clumsy words that never felt big enough.
The weight of the moment should have kept you still, quiet, caught in reflection. Instead, you started laughing.
Not because you were mocking him. Not because it wasnβt serious. But because of course Loβak would do this. Of course he would bring you a fruit that meant courtship, that was reserved for the boldest of affections, and offer it to you while shoving it into his mouth like a snack he found on the ground. It was so him; reckless, thoughtless in the most honest way, giving you a piece of himself without even realizing how much of it he was handing over.
You shook your head and leaned forward, fingers brushing the side of the leaf as you reached for one of the glowing slices. The light stained your skin as you held it up, the nectar already sliding over your knuckles, sweet and golden. You hesitated, just for a moment, eyes flicking to Loβak who was still watching you, quiet now, mouth parted like he was waiting for the ground to fall out from beneath him. You didnβt say anything. Just leaned forward, and bit into the fruit.
Juice spilled across your tongue in a flood of warm sweetness, the kind that made your chest bloom like a flower opening too fast. It was soft and rich, without the tart bite of other jungle fruits. The flavor unfurled in your mouth like something alive, thick with floral sugar and a tangy edge that made your lips part wider just to taste more. Your eyes fluttered half shut, breath catching with surprise. You hadnβt expected that. Hadnβt expected it to taste like a memory youβd never had but somehow missed.
Loβak said nothing. He didnβt need to. His face was unreadable, almost still, except for the slight twitch of his ears and the quiet tension in his jaw. His gaze tracked every motion of your mouth, the way your lips pressed against the flesh of the fruit, the way your eyes blinked slowly. He didnβt smirk. He didnβt joke. He just watched.
You swallowed, licked the juice from your lower lip, and reached for another slice. βThis is,β you said, voice hushed around the last traces of the bite in your mouth, βthe best thing Iβve ever tasted.β
Loβak blinked like he had forgotten how to breathe.
You chewed the second piece, slower this time. βDo you actually not know what this fruit means?β
He tilted his head just slightly. βIt means you like it?β he said, but his tone was cautious now. Like he sensed there was more coming.
You looked straight at him, lips still stained with gold. βNo. Glowfruit means courtship. It means, βI want you.ββ
Loβakβs reaction was immediate and dramatic.
He choked mid-bite. Not a little cough, not a graceful reaction. A full-body choke. His eyes went wide and panicked, and he immediately started coughing, thumping his chest with one hand while the other flailed blindly at the air beside him. The piece of fruit dropped from his hand and bounced onto the mat as he keeled backward, landing flat on his back with a loud thud and a wheezing gasp. His heels kicked at the ground like he was fighting a ghost, all while hacking his lungs out.
You nearly fell over from laughing.
A real, full laugh, loud and breathless and uncontainable. You pressed a hand over your mouth but it did nothing to muffle the sound. You couldnβt help it. The way his legs were kicking, the wide-eyed betrayal in his face, the pitiful coughsβit was all too much. Tears welled in your eyes as you half-curled over your knees, struggling to breathe through your laughter.
βOh Eywa,β you gasped. βYou really didnβt know.β
Loβak was still coughing, but now he was laughing through it, too. The sound was rough, broken by wheezes, but full of that wild, carefree heat that always lived in his chest. He lay sprawled across the mat, arms flung out beside him like heβd been taken down by a spirit. His chest rose and fell in uneven jolts, and his face was flushed from the coughing fit, mouth open as he tried to catch his breath between dying laughter.
βI thought it was just a cool fruit,β he croaked, eyes squinting through the tears running down his temples. βYou were the one who said it looked pretty!β
You scooted across the mat until you were beside him, hair falling across your shoulder as you leaned over his sprawled form. He looked up at you with his head tilted against the mat, mouth still parted, chest rising and falling from breathless laughter. His ears twitched as he took you in from this angleβyour face above his, hair loose, cheeks flushed from joy.
Your laughter faded as the silence crept back in, but it wasnβt uncomfortable this time. It buzzed with warmth, with shared air, with a secret now spoken aloud. You stayed like that for a breath. Then two. Your eyes met his, and in that stillness, Loβak thought one thing clearly, deeply.
You were the most beautiful thing heβd ever seen.
Your hair was still tangled from your sprint through the forest, windswept and uneven, and a streak of dirt clung to the curve of your thigh where youβd knelt earlier in the moss. Your lips glistened with juice, sweet and shining, and your smile lingered, soft and open like you had no idea how much you were affecting him.
He couldnβt remember the last time you had looked at him like this; carefree, close, curious. Maybe you always had and he had just been too dense to see it, too caught up in his own noise. But now? Now you hovered above him like he was something worth leaning toward, like you were waiting for him to meet you halfway.
βYou good?β you asked, the words warm with laughter, the tail end of your breath still shaky from it.
Loβak didnβt answer right away. His lips parted like he might say yes, but the word never left his tongue. His gaze flicked over your features again, lingering at your mouth, then lower to the curve of your jaw, then back to your eyes. Without thinkingβwithout askingβhis hand rose slowly from where it had fallen beside him, fingers brushing the air like he wasnβt sure he was allowed to touch you.
He cupped your face with a gentleness that didnβt match his usual energy, palm warm, thumb callused and still slightly sticky with glowfruit juice. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth where a bit of nectar clung, smearing it across your skin instead of cleaning it, too slow to be a real attempt to wipe it away. His breath hitched when he felt the heat of your cheek under his hand, and his mouth opened again.
βI didnβt used to care about TΓ¬yawn Trr,β he said, voice rough around the edges, softer than you expected. βLike, at all. I thought it was just this dumb thingβmore stuff for people who already know what theyβre doing. Not for me.β
You blinked, but didnβt interrupt. His hand didnβt move from your cheek, though it trembled just slightly now that the words had started to come out. He looked like he was barely holding himself together, not because he was afraid, but because he was trying so hard to say it right. To not mess this up.
βI always used to watch my brother make all these gifts for people, say all the right things, make people smile. He got it. Kiri, too. She weaves stuff for everyone. Even Tuk does better than me. She makes those leaf rings with, like, six petals. Perfect every time. I neverβ¦β He paused, furrowing his brow. βI never felt like I had anything worth giving.β
Your chest ached at the rawness in his voice.
βBut this year,β he continued, thumb tracing your cheekbone now like he needed something to hold onto, βI kept thinking about you. Every time I saw a flower or a bead or even just heard someone talking about the celebration, my brain just went to you. It was annoying.β He laughed, breathless. βCouldnβt stop it. Couldnβt not think about what Iβd give you.β
He glanced down for a moment, breath hitching as he wet his lips, then looked back up into your eyes.
βI saw that fruit, and I didnβt even think. I just grabbed it. Almost broke my back doing it, but I didnβt care. It felt like, I dunnoβlike Eywa put it there. For you. And I was the one meant to bring it to you.β
His hand shifted slightly, thumb brushing the corner of your lips again, gentler this time. His ears angled back, his mouth twitching like he wasnβt sure whether to smile or keep going.
βYou mean a lot to me,β he said, voice almost a whisper now. βMore than Iβve ever really told you. Youβre always doing things for others. Always running around, carrying the whole forest on your back. I just wanted to give you one thing that showed you how much I see you. How much you matter. To me.β
He winced the moment the words left his mouth, as if hearing them out loud made them too real. His hand started to drop from your cheek.
Your fingers wrapped around his wrist quickly. The touch was warm, grounding, and just a little unsteady. Loβak froze beneath you, his breath caught mid-motion, and his golden eyes flicked up to yours. Your palm stayed pressed to his skin, and his hand, still cupping your cheek, trembled just slightly where it rested.
Your cheeks flushed hot, and you felt your heartbeat in your ears. Your tail was moving in wide, agitated sweeps behind you, betraying every ounce of your nervous energy. You didnβt try to stop it. There was no hiding from this moment, no pulling it back or burying it under jokes or half-words. The warmth in your chest had grown too loud, too full, too vast to contain.
Your lips parted, and you tried to speak, but the first words stumbled out clumsy and breathless.
βIβLoβak, Iββ
You winced, shut your mouth, and inhaled deeply through your nose. Your eyes fell shut for a second, and you steadied yourself. His hand was still there, thumb pressed to your cheekbone, as if waiting for permission to stay.
When you opened your eyes again, you met his gaze head-on. βYou didnβt have to do all of this,β you said softly, your voice steadier now, but still woven with feeling so big it pressed behind your ribs. βYou didnβt have to find rare fruit or nearly fall out of a tree or... say the perfect thing.β
Loβak blinked, his ears twitching slightly, unsure if he was being gently let down or not.
βI didnβt need a gift,β you continued, your grip on his wrist tightening just slightly. βI only needed you.β
His breath caughtβfully, this timeβand you watched the realization spread over his face. His mouth parted, but nothing came out. His eyes searched your expression like he was afraid heβd misunderstood.
You didnβt let him.
You leaned down slowly, closing the space between you with a softness you hadnβt shown him before. Not because you didnβt feel it, but because you had never known how to give it voice. Your eyes flicked down to his lips, and you watched his breath stutter at the same moment your heart nearly stopped.
βThe glowfruit,β you murmured, voice barely audible, βitβs perfect. Itβs exactly what I feel for you.β
Loβak opened his mouth to say something, but the words never had the chance to form.
You kissed him.
Your lips met his with a careful, deliberate press, warm and soft and trembling. His mouth was still sweet with the taste of the fruit, and yours was too, and for a moment, that was all there wasβthe mingled flavor of sunlight and nectar, and the warmth of your lips molding to his. You thought maybe he would hesitate. Maybe heβd stiffen or freeze or say something stupid in that very Loβak way.
He didnβt.
His hand curled into your hair as he kissed you back with so much eagerness it nearly took the breath from your lungs. His lips moved against yours like he had been waiting for thisβaching for this. The energy he always carried, wild and untamed, poured into the kiss with a rawness that made your skin burn. He sat up beneath you, arm snaking around your waist without thinking, tugging you closer until your knees straddled either side of his legs and your body pressed flush against his chest.
You gasped softly at the contact, and he used it to deepen the kiss, tilting his head just slightly to fit against you better. His fingers slid from your cheek to your jaw, then down the side of your neck, exploring with slow reverence as though memorizing the shape of you. The press of his mouth grew hungrier, not rushed, but full of a longing that had clearly been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.
Your hand slid from his wrist up to his shoulder, fingers curling into the muscle there as he pulled you impossibly closer. His kiss slowed for a heartbeat, mouth brushing yours more gently now, the heat giving way to emotion so deep it made your heart flutter painfully. He pulled back just enough to breathe, just enough to look at you.
His lips were red and wet, still parted like he wasnβt done, like he couldnβt bear to be too far away. His breath washed over your face in soft bursts, warm and tinged with the sweetness of glowfruit, and his forehead stayed pressed to yours like leaving that touch would undo everything that had just passed between you. His hand lingered at your cheek, thumb tracing small, distracted circles across your skin.Β
You tilted your face a little, letting your nose brush against his, and smiled. Loβak opened his eyes at the movement and saw your expression. His own smile curved to match it, slow and crooked, as if he wasnβt sure he deserved to feel this full, this seen, but couldnβt help it.
But just as quickly as that warmth bloomed across his face, it began to collapse in on itself.
His ears twitched, and his eyes darted away from yours for the first time since the kiss ended. You felt his body tense under your legs, his grip on your waist loosening slightly. His mouth opened again, but this time the words came out in a rush, uneven and frantic.
βWait, uhβhold on. IβI didnβt mean likeβ¦ like mate-mate. Like notβlike not officially. Like the fruit, itβs a gift, yeah? Not a wholeβ¦ vow or anything. Like, I didnβt mean I was trying to, you know, claim you. Not that I donβt want to, I meanβshit. No, skxawng, Loβakβdonβt say thatββ
His hands lifted as if trying to calm you down, but it was clearly himself he was trying to talk off a ledge. His tail flailed behind him like a whip, his ears flattening one second and flicking upright the next, no rhythm, no grace. Panic bloomed across his face like wildfire, fast and hot, and you could practically see him digging his own grave with every breathless sentence.
βWhat I meantβwhat I meant, was just that, like, I really like you. Like a lot. I think about you, like, all the time. Like way too much. But the glowfruit was justβbecause I saw it, and I thought of you. Not, like, a mating vow. Not unlessβyou wanted that, but I wasnβt trying toβI donβt wanna freak you outβfuck.β
You blinked once.
Your lips twitched, and you started to laugh.
It started as a soft huff, but quickly snowballed into a real laugh, full-bodied and loud and helpless. You clutched at his shoulder as your body folded slightly with the force of it, your forehead falling to his chest. Loβak stared at you like youβd gone mad, his mouth still parted mid-explanation, cheeks flushed deep beneath his freckles. His eyes scanned your face for any sign that he hadnβt just royally messed up everything, but your laughter didnβt sound cruel.
You leaned up again, face still warm with your smile, and cupped his jaw in both hands. His breath caught when you did, eyes wide, lips still trembling from his panic.
βLoβak,β you murmured.
He blinked. βYeah?β
You kissed him.
This time, there was no hesitation. Your hands held his face firmly as your mouth met his, lips parting immediately, inviting him in. He melted into it with a groan in the back of his throat, one hand sliding to your lower back, the other burying in your hair as though anchoring himself to the only steady thing in the world. The kiss was slower than the first, deeper. Your mouths moved together in a rhythm built from everything unsaid, everything you didnβt need words for.
Loβak kissed you like he needed you. Like he had been starving for this closeness, this taste, this truth. His thumb stroked the base of your skull where your braid met your neck, drawing shivers down your spine. You breathed him in, lips dragging across his lower lip, catching slightly before moving back to press into the corner of his mouth, his cheek, the slope of his jaw.
When you finally pulled back, your noses still touched. His eyes were half-lidded, dazed and glowing, pupils wide like a predator whoβd finally caught what he was chasing.
βI know what the fruit means,β you whispered, voice still thick with warmth. βAnd I know what I want it to mean.β
Loβak swallowed hard, his thumb brushing your temple, lips twitching into a crooked smile.
βI think Iβm gonna need you to explain it,β he murmured. βWith your mouth.β
You laughed again, softer this time, and leaned in to kiss him once more.
awkward sassy lo'ak who talks like his dad is my favorite type of lo'ak. love him sooo much aaaa
a/n | hello! hi!! i'm so excited, as this was my first request ever!! thank you @esmlvrrr !! literally so so sweet!! i hope this doesn't disappoint!! i kinda struggle writing fluffy/sweet ao'nung, but this was so fun to write! i did a mixture of prompts 17 & 18 :,)
synopsis | while rebraiding ao'nung's hair after sparring, a conversation about grief and feelings turns into a confession when he admits he loves you.
content warning(s) | grief references (neteyamβs death), first kisses, escalating physical affection (making out), lap sitting, public interruption, ao'nung is slightly ooc(?)
The light outside your marui pod shifted softly with the turning tides, hues of turquoise and golden coral diffused through the semi-translucent woven walls. The breeze carried the scent of salt and sea moss, whispering gently over your skin as you sat cross-legged on the smooth floor, your knife in hand, working the blade over a flat stone with patient, steady strokes. The rhythmic rasping had become second nature, a task more meditative than necessary. Still, you liked the way it felt. A return to habit, to normalcy, in a time when the world felt unbalanced.
Since Neteyamβs funeral, it was as though a quiet veil had fallen over the village. Grief ebbed and flowed like the sea itself. Not always visible, but always present. Everyone felt it. But Aoβnungβ¦ he had changed in ways that went deeper than mourning.
He had passed his Iknimaya not long after. Where once there had been the cocky swagger of a chiefβs son, now there was a groundedness to him. He carried himself differently, less loud, more purposeful. His teasing still lingered on his tongue, but there was a weight behind his eyes now, the glint of someone who had seen loss, who had felt it carve its mark inside his chest.
And still, he sought you out, like always.
You looked up as the sound of familiar footsteps approached, padded and unhurried. Aoβnungβs silhouette darkened your doorway for a moment before he stepped inside without a word. His skin was slick with the aftermath of sparring, salt drying on the blue of his chest in irregular patterns. His braids were mussed, some of them loosening, their tight order undone by movement. There was a faint bruise blooming beneath his collarbone, the telltale purple-green of a staff hit, but he didnβt seem to mind it.
You watched him with a raised brow, slowing your sharpening only slightly. βYou look like you lost.β
He smirked, dropping down beside you with a tired grunt, stretching his long legs out in front of him. βI let Roxto win today,β he said, dragging the words out with mock pride. βNeeded to keep his ego from cracking.β
βAh, such generosity from our great warrior,β you replied, letting the sarcasm drip. βTruly selfless.β
He chuckled, head tilted back against the woven wall, the beads in his hair clicking softly. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the air filled with the ocean outside and the quiet rasp of your blade.
Then his eyes cut sideways, that same glint still hiding there. βYou sharpening that because youβre planning to stab me later?β
You grinned without looking up. βMaybe.β
Aoβnung laughed again, but it was quieter this time, more thoughtful. His shoulders relaxed in that subtle way youβd come to recognizeβthe way he only did around you. βCame to hang out,β he said after a beat. βNothing big.β
You hummed in reply. βOkay.β
It wasnβt unusual, not really. You two had always been close. Too close, if the murmurs among the other villagers were to be believed. Youβd heard the comments before. Half-jokes and speculative whispers about the way you always sought each other out, the way his gaze lingered on you when he thought no one noticed. But it had never been weird between you. Never crossed a line.
At least, not until recently. Lately, Aoβnung had been different. Subtle, but noticeable if you looked closely, softer, in strange, rare moments. He didnβt poke at you with the same bite he used to. There was a quietness to him now when he was around you, one that didnβt feel like loss. It felt likeβ¦ waiting. But you never pushed. It wasnβt big enough to question. Not yet.
He shifted beside you now, sitting up straighter, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that telegraphed discomfort. βHey,β he said, voice casual but a little forced. βCan youβ¦ help me with my hair?β
Your hand stilled on the stone. You blinked, turning toward him fully. βYour hair?β
He gestured vaguely at the mess atop his head, the normally neat braids loosening in places. βYeah. Rebraid it?β
That made your brow furrow. βYou braid better than anyone I know. You taught me how to do mine.β
Aoβnung just shrugged, that crooked smile slipping back into place, though it didnβt quite reach his eyes. βMy hands are tired. Yours arenβt. Come on, help a poor warrior in need.β
You stared at him for a long moment. He wasnβt looking at you, fiddling instead with the hem of the woven cloth tied at his waist. The quiet tension in him was strangeβnot nervous, exactly, but not the usual playful confidence either.
Still, you sighed theatrically and patted the space between your legs. βFine. Sit.β
He grinned as he crawled over, settling with an ease that sent a flicker through your chest. He didnβt just sit between your thighs, no, he leaned back against you like it was the most natural thing in the world. His back pressed into your front, broad and warm, and he exhaled as if heβd been holding his breath all day and could finally let go.
You laughed softly under your breath. βComfortable?β
βVery,β he said, low and satisfied. βDonβt rush.β
You rolled your eyes but couldnβt stop the smile that pulled at your lips. Your fingers threaded gently through the thick strands of his hair, separating them with care. It had been a long time since youβd braided anyone elseβs hairβnot since you were a child helping your younger siblings. But Aoβnung sat quietly under your touch, utterly still save for the rise and fall of his chest.
His skin was warm where it touched yours, smooth and firm beneath your knees. The salt clung faintly to him, and you could smell the faint traces of seaweed oil in his scalp. Your fingers moved rhythmically, finding a pace as you worked.
βYouβve gotten better,β Aoβnung murmured after a while, his voice deep and low with the closeness. βYour fingers are steadier than before.β
βGuess youβre not the only one whoβs matured,β you said, smirking.
He made a sound that was almost a hum, tipping his head a little to give you better access. βYou think Iβve matured?β
βYou donβt tease me as much. Youβre quieter now. Less of a skxawng ,β you replied. βMostly.β
That made him snort, shoulders shaking gently with laughter. βYou miss it? The teasing?β
βI didnβt say that.β
Silence stretched again, but it was easy. You could feel the steady beat of his heart through his back, the slow breath in his lungs. Every now and then, he tilted his head slightly under your hands, wordlessly guiding you to the next section. Your knees bracketed his hips, and his tail flicked idly near your ankle.
βYouβre different now too,β he said, more softly this time.
Your hands paused for a fraction of a second before continuing. βHow so?β
βNot sure,β he said slowly. βBut I feel it. Youβreβ¦ more quiet, I guess. Like youβre always thinking.β
You let that sit in the air. It wasnβt untrue. Ever since Neteyamβs death, youβd found yourself turning inward more often. Even surrounded by people, you sometimes felt apart, like your thoughts pulled you under like a rip current.
βItβs hard not to think,β you said finally, your voice quieter than before. βAfter everything.β
Aoβnung nodded, though he didnβt speak for a long time. His tail brushed yours, a soft, subtle movement that made your chest tighten.
βYou were close with him,β he said eventually.
βYeah,β you breathed, fingers slowing over his scalp. βHe wasβ¦ a good one.β
He nodded again, just once, the motion small but weighted. His shoulders lifted on a slow breath, then settled, as if he were steadying himself. βOel ngati kame, ma tsmukan,β he murmured, voice low and rough with restraint. βI miss him too. He was braveβ¦ stronger than he ever knew.β The way his jaw tightened betrayed how close the ache still sat beneath his calm, how the memory pressed at him even when he tried to keep his voice steady.
Your hands stilled in his hair, the half-finished braid loose between your fingers. You leaned forward without thinking, your palm coming up to cradle his jaw, thumb brushing gently along the curve of his cheek. The skin there was warm, familiar, and your touch was slow, as if you were trying to ease the grief from his bones. Aoβnungβs breath caught, just slightly, and he turned his face into your hand, pressing into your palm with quiet need. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes dark against his cheeks, and the tension in his shoulders eased as if he had been holding himself rigid for far too long.
Neither of you spoke for several heartbeats. His tail slid closer to yours, brushing along your calf in a gentle, absent-minded curl, a gesture that felt instinctive rather than deliberate.
Aoβnung cleared his throat softly, eyes opening as he shifted his focus away from the ache. His mouth curved into a small, crooked smile, the familiar spark of mischief returning, though it was gentler now. βSaw Tsireya and Loβak today,β he said, tone carefully casual, as if he were steering the canoe away from deeper waters. βThey thought no one noticed them sneaking off toward the shallows near the mangroves.β
Your lips twitched despite yourself, your hand still resting against his cheek. βLet me guess. They were being very obvious while thinking they were invisible.β
Aoβnung let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and genuine. βKea tΓ¬kin,β he agreed. βThey were whispering and bumping into each other, tails tangling like young ilu. Loβak nearly tripped over a root because he was staring at her instead of watching where he was going.β He shook his head, amusement bright in his eyes. βI thought Tsireya would pretend not to notice, but she kept smiling every time he looked at her. Smiling like she was trying not to.β
You laughed, the sound slipping out easily now, easing some of the tightness in your chest. βSo they are exactly as subtle as everyone thinks.β
βWorse,β Aoβnung said, snorting. βAt one point, Loβak tried to act all smooth, leaned in like he was about to say some grand words, and all that came out was, βYour ilu is fast.ββ He lifted a hand in mock seriousness. βTruly poetic.β
You shook your head, fingers finally resuming their work in his hair as you separated the strands again. βEywa help them. Theyβre hopeless.β
βThey are,β he agreed, laughter softening into fondness. βButβ¦ it is kind of nice, seeing them like that. After everything.β His voice grew quieter, thoughtful. βFeels like the world is still moving forward, even when it hurts.β
Your hands slowed again, your gaze lingering on the back of his head. βYou notice things more now,β you said gently. βYou didnβt used to talk like that.β
Aoβnungβs shoulders lifted in a small shrug. βMaybe I just didnβt want to notice before.β He glanced up at you from the corner of his eye, a hint of teasing returning. βDo not start telling people I have grown wise. I still have a reputation to protect.β
You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. βToo late. I will tell everyone youβre becoming thoughtful and sentimental.β
He scoffed, but the sound held no real protest. βYou would betray me like that?β
βI absolutely would,β you replied, laughing softly.
Aoβnung chuckled, shaking his head as he continued his story. βLater, they were sitting near the tide pools, pretending to watch the fish. Loβak kept offering her fruit, like she might starve without his help. Tsireya took it every time, even though she had plenty already.β He paused, lips parting as if he were about to say more, his voice lowering instinctively. βIt made me think about how I feel when Iβm with you, how I loββ
The word nearly slipped free.
Your fingers froze mid-braid, the tension in your hands immediate and unmistakable. Your breath stalled in your lungs as your mind caught on the shape of what he had almost said, the echo of it ringing far louder than his laughter had moments before. Your heart began to pound, hard and fast, sending heat rushing into your face and down your spine.
Aoβnung went still too, the realization of his near-confession flashing across his features. His mouth closed, jaw tightening, and for the first time since he had leaned into you, he shifted, uncertainty rippling through him. βIββ He stopped, swallowing, eyes dropping to the floor as if he could not quite meet your gaze anymore. βI meantβ¦ they remind me of how easy it is to care about another person when you let yourself.β
Silence settled again, heavier now, charged with what had almost been spoken. Your hands remained tangled in his hair, the unfinished braid forgotten. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his back no longer rested fully against your chest, as if he were bracing for your reaction.
βAoβnung,β you said softly, your voice careful, steady despite the storm inside you.
He inhaled slowly, then turned his head just enough to look up at you, eyes wide and searching. The way he looked at you was cautious, vulnerable in a way Aoβnung rarely let himself be. His pupils were blown wide in the dim light of the marui, reflecting the soft glow of the reefwater outside. You watched him closely, your breath still caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat, lips parted as the weight of what nearly left his mouth hovered like mist between you.
Your voice, when it came, was soft and shaky, a breath more than a question. βWhat were you going to say?β
Aoβnungβs mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, and his eyes darted to the space between your faces before flicking back up to you. His expression was a strange mix of defiance and hesitation, like he was preparing for a fight and trying not to tremble at the same time. His fingers twitched on your knee, and for a moment you werenβt sure if he would answer at all. But then he exhaled through his nose, quiet and resigned, the words leaving him in a slow murmur.
βEwya,β he muttered under his breath, shaking his head, embarrassed already. Then, louder: β How I love you.ββ
He looked away as he said it, his voice barely louder than the wind rustling the woven walls of your marui. His tail flicked once, betraying his nerves, but he didnβt back away. Didnβt try to take it back.
Your whole body went still. Heat rose to your cheeks in an instant, hot and fast, as if your skin was catching fire from the inside. Your tail began to swish behind you without permission, too fast, too obvious, giving away every thought you were trying to keep to yourself. You clamped your lips together, trying to contain the flood of emotion rising in your chest, but a soft, helpless giggle slipped out anyway.
Aoβnung blinked at you in confusion. βAre youβ¦ laughing at me?β
You couldnβt answer. Not yet. You bit your lip, trying to hold back, but it only made you laugh harder. You dropped your hand from his face and immediately buried it in your palms, covering your mouth as the giggles overtook you in little bursts. You werenβt mocking him, not even closeβit was the kind of laughter that bubbled up when you were overwhelmed, when something unbelievable and bright cracked you open from the inside.
Aoβnung narrowed his eyes, though he was clearly trying not to smile. βWhat is wrong with you?β he asked, laughing a little himself now. βWhy are you like this? I just confessed that I love you, and youβre hiding in your hands like a child.β
Your shoulders shook harder as you lowered your hands, finally able to get enough air to speak. Your eyes were gleaming, and your cheeks still burned with heat, but you grinned at him like your heart was too full to stay quiet. βItβs justβthis is crazy. You. You like me. You love me.β You let out another short laugh, disbelieving. βAoβnung, you used to throw fish guts at me.β
He rolled his eyes, exasperated but fond, and nudged your leg with the back of his hand. βI still might if you keep laughing.β
You shook your head, eyes bright. βItβs not a bad crazy. I justβ¦ I didnβt think someone like you would everβ¦β Your voice faded, lips curving into a softer smile now, one that wasnβt so laced with disbelief. βI didnβt think youβd feel that way. About me.β
Aoβnung leaned back a little, brow furrowed, his tail curling loosely now behind him. His expression shifted, serious now, open in a way he rarely let others see. βYou really are blind sometimes.β
You stared at him, unsure what to say, but your smile refused to leave your face.
He reached up, running a hand through his hair, fingers brushing against the newly braided strands you'd finished. βIt was never hidden, yawntu. I followed you like a stray ilu. I teased you because I liked the way you fought back. I sparred harder with everyone else so I wouldnβt hurt you. And when Neteyam diedβ¦ you were the only one I wanted near me.β His jaw flexed as he looked at you. βThe signs were there. You just didnβt want to see.β
The laughter had faded now, but the warmth hadnβt. It had pooled in your chest, in your belly, pulsing out to your fingertips and the tips of your ears. You watched him carefully, noticing the way his voice dipped near the end, the way his hands fidgeted even though his face stayed composed.
You reached forward and wrapped your fingers gently around his wrist. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the tendons in his forearm flexing slightly as you tugged him closer. His body followed the pull without resistance, knees shifting until they brushed yours, faces once again only a breath apart.
Aoβnung stared at you, his expression unreadable now, lips parted slightly. His eyes searched your face again, this time not for fear or rejection,Β but for understanding. He looked as if he was waiting for you to pull away, or maybe for you to laugh again, or say it was too soon. You giggled once more, soft and quick, unable to help it as your heart surged. His brows drew together.
βSkxawng,β he muttered to himself, voice rough, and cupped your face with both hands before you could say anything else.
His kiss came like a crash of waves against rockβnot rough, but certain, the kind of certainty that only came after restraint. His lips met yours with an honesty that made your chest ache, full of tension and heat and every word he hadnβt dared speak aloud until now. His thumbs brushed your cheeks as his fingers slid into your hair, holding you like he had meant to do this for a long time but had never been brave enough.
Your giggles died instantly, replaced with a soft, surprised sound that escaped against his mouth. Your hands gripped his forearms, nails pressing lightly into his skin as the kiss deepened. There was no fumbling in it, his lips moving against yours with the kind of tenderness you hadnβt expected from Aoβnung, the one who laughed the loudest and fought the hardest.
His forehead rested against yours when he finally pulled back, breath shallow and quick. His eyes stayed on you, burning and bright, and his voice was a low murmur. βTΓ¬yawn. Donβt laugh at me again. I might kiss you harder next time.β
You blinked, lips already curling with another laugh bubbling to the surface. βThereβs gonna be an again?β you teased, eyes gleaming as you leaned back just slightly to take in his face, all flushed.
A grin tugged at the corners of Aoβnungβs mouth, sharp with amusement and challenge. Without a word, he reached up and tugged playfully on your braid, just enough to tilt your head, before diving back in, stealing another kiss with the same confident intensity.
This time it wasnβt tentative. His mouth slanted over yours with intent, lips parting against yours, coaxing yours to do the same. The kiss deepened with unspoken urgency, heat blooming between you as he leaned in fully. His weight settled across your thighs, his chest pressing tightly to yours, the solid, familiar strength of him now electric and close in a way you had only ever dreamed about. Your arms instinctively slid around his torso, hands curling at the small of his back to keep him close, grounding yourself in the reality that this was really happening.
Aoβnungβs hands cradled your face so gently it made your breath catch. Thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, fingers buried just behind your jaw, holding you like you were precious. The contrast of that tenderness with the way he kissed youβopen, hungry, boldβleft your head spinning. His lips moved with surety, slow but intense, as if he was tasting each second of this moment.
A soft, unintentional sound left your throat, half moan, half sigh, and Aoβnung immediately pulled back a fraction, laughter bubbling in his mouth, still so close his breath ghosted over your lips.
βOh?β he chuckled against you, voice low and teasing, the smirk practically audible. βNow youβre the one making noises.β
Heat rushed to your cheeks again, and you glared at him, though you couldnβt hold back your smile. βYouβ!β
But before you could say anything else, the flap of the marui shifted open without warning, and two figures stepped inside, laughing to themselves.
Loβakβs voice rang out first. βYo, we thought youββ
He stopped cold. Right behind him, Tsireyaβs eyes widened, her mouth falling open as she registered the sight of you and Aoβnung tangled together, his legs still draped over yours, his chest pressed to yours, your fingers still twisted in the ties at his waist. His lips were still kiss-swollen, your braid still tangled in his hand.
There was a moment of pure silence. Four people. Two expressions of complete shock.
Then Tsireya shrieked.
βAoβnung!β she cried, voice high and scandalized, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. βWhat are you doing!?β
Loβak just stood frozen, eyes wide, blinking rapidly. βBroβwhatβ?β
Aoβnung groaned, dropping his forehead dramatically onto your shoulder, his whole body vibrating with secondhand embarrassment. βEywa, please take me now,β he muttered into your skin, voice muffled.
You couldnβt help it,Β laughter burst from your throat, high and uncontrollable, as you clutched at his back and half-curled into yourself in an effort to muffle it. Aoβnungβs arms wrapped tightly around you like he was trying to shield himself from reality.
Tsireya was still staring, visibly traumatized. βWhy were youβhis legs areβwere you sittingβ?β
Loβak, finally regaining his senses, started laughing. It wasnβt mocking,Β just breathless disbelief. βI knew there was tension, but Eywa! You were on top of each other!β
βWe were notββ Aoβnung lifted his head with a growl, eyes wild. βI swear, if you say one more wordββ
Tsireya made a high-pitched sound and buried her face in her hands. βI cannot unsee it! I cannot unsee it! Aoβnung, sheβs my friend! Youβre my brother!β
βI know who I am!β Aoβnung shouted back, scandalized in return.
Loβak wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. βDamn, bro, at least let us knock next time.β
βShe lives here!β Aoβnung barked.
it is my signature to have kissing always interrupted... it's just so funny to me im sorry lmfao
a/n | hey!! I'M STILL SO DEAD THAT PEOPLE LIKE HOW I WRITE NETEYAM. i've gotten so many dms and inboxes abt writing him again. i always get super nervous posting him. i rlly like him, and i hope i do him justice in this!! neteyam is kinda ooc in this, but as always i think he's rlly funny :,)
synopsis | after an ikran race leaves you alone with neteyam, his teasing finally turns into kisses and touches that blurs the line of friendship and the words he keeps daring you to say.
The sunlight beat warm across your shoulders, the wind rushing wild over your ears as your ikran veered sharply through the cliffs. Your fingers tightened on the reins, but it was no use. Loβak and Neteyam were already streaks of blue ahead, cutting across the sky like twin bolts of lightning, all shrieks and gleaming grins. You knew you werenβt winning. Honestly, you hadnβt really tried. The real thrill wasnβt the race itself, it was watching them, both so fiercely alive, throwing jabs mid-flight like they werenβt soaring hundreds of feet above solid ground.
Loβak was shouting again, something about how Neteyam always cheated with his head start, voice ragged with laughter. Neteyam only barked back louder, twisting in his saddle to shoot a smug look over his shoulder, braid lashing in the wind. βWhat was that, little brother?β he called, his voice ringing above the gusts. βSpeak louder! I cannot hear losing!β
You laughed before you could help it. Loud, unguarded, bubbling up from your chest. Loβak groaned, dramatic, his head tilting back as he yelled, βEven sheβs laughing at you!β
Neteyamβs ears twitched. His head turned, catching your face where you flew a few lengths behind. You tried to hide your grin behind your hand, but it was too late. His eyes caught yours, and his smirk curved sharp and satisfied.
When you all finally touched down, your ikranβs talons scraping over the packed dirt near the edge of the village, Neteyam hopped off with that same cocky swagger still clinging to his frame. He stretched with exaggerated flair, arms raised high as he arched his back, tail flicking behind him. βAnother win,β he said, all mock-solemn. βTruly, Eywa has blessed me today.β
Loβak snorted, dragging his fingers through his braids. βEywa has blessed you with a head start, you skxawng.β
Neteyam only grinned wider, fangs flashing. βExcuses.β He nudged his brother with an elbow that was more shove than anything, ignoring the way Loβak shoved back twice as hard. βYou just hate losing in front of her.β
βPlease,β Loβak muttered, brushing past them both, βas if she cares.β
You dismounted last, patting your ikranβs flank in thanks. When you turned around, Loβak was already vanishing into the crowd, muttering about needing to wash the wind from his teeth. Neteyam stayed behind.
He didnβt speak right away. Just watched you with that look he always wore when no one else was around; quiet and amused, eyes glinting like sunlight scattered on water. His arms were crossed over his chest, muscles flexed beneath skin dappled in gold light. There was a satisfaction in his posture, lazy and feline, like a hunter who already knew heβd caught his prey.
βYou laughed at me,β he said finally, voice low with feigned betrayal.
You blinked. βWhat?β
βIn the sky,β he said, stepping closer. βYou laughed when I asked who the mighty warrior was.β
You fought the smile threatening your lips. βBecause it was stupid.β
His brows lifted, mock-offended. βStupid?β
You nodded, biting back a giggle. βVery stupid.β
His tail swayed behind him. βYou wound me,β he said, pressing a hand to his chest, but his eyes were warmβmolten gold, laced with humor. βYou should have defended me. Said my name. You know I am the mightiest.β
You tilted your head, teasing. βYou really need me to say it?β
His grin curved wider. βIt sounds better when you do.β
You looked away, pretending to busy yourself with a loose braid falling into your face, but your cheeks felt too warm, your skin prickling under the weight of his gaze. He noticed. Of course he did. He always noticed. Neteyam stepped close enough that his shadow brushed yours, his voice dropping just slightly.
βYou laugh at me, tease me, never say my name when it countsβ¦ I begin to think you do not take me seriously.β
Your eyes flicked up to meet his. βYouβre right. I donβt.β
He chuckled, but his eyes never left yours. βA shame,β he murmured, voice velvet-smooth, βbecause I take you very seriously.β
Your stomach dipped, the warmth of his tone rippling through you in waves. You opened your mouth to answerβto laugh, to deflect, to say something that would keep things light and easy between you, the way they always were,Β but the words tangled in your throat.
Neteyamβs expression shifted. Just barely. His smile softened, the curve of it gentler now. His hand lifted, slow, fingers brushing the end of one of your braids where it curled against your collarbone. His touch was barely there, featherlight, but the look in his eyes burned.
βYou know,β he said softly, βyou are the reason I let Loβak fly ahead at the start.β
You blinked. βWhat?β
βI wanted you behind me.β His voice was hushed, but sure. βSo I could hear you laugh. So I could look back and see your face.β
Your breath caught. He tilted his head, searching your expression for something you hadnβt quite figured out how to show him. His fingers skimmed yours where your hands hung at your sides, a ghost of a touch, barely brushing, but it sent a jolt up your spine.
You swallowed. βNeteyamβ¦β
He leaned in just a fraction, the scent of him filling your nose; salt and sun and wind, familiar and grounding. βYou really do not see, do you?β he whispered.
βSee what?β
His smile tilted, eyes gleaming. βHow I look at you.β
You stared up at him, pulse stuttering, the world suddenly too quiet. He stepped closer still, close enough that your arms brushed, close enough to count the flecks of green in his eyes. His voice dipped low, nearly lost in the rustle of wind through the leaves.
βI will make you say it,β he said. βThat I am the mighty warrior.β
You couldnβt help it. The laugh escaped you before you had time to catch it, quick and breathy and bright. You clamped both hands over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound, as if that might preserve what little dignity he had left. But it was useless. The look on your face, the way your eyes crinkled, gave you away instantly.
Neteyam groaned softly, though the exasperation didnβt reach his eyes. He reached forward without hesitation, fingers curling around your wrists with practiced ease. His touch was firm but never rough, the pads of his fingers warm against your skin. He tugged your hands down from your face, holding them low between you, gaze fixed on your lips with the kind of intent that stripped the air from your lungs.
The laughter faded like dew beneath sunlight.
Your breath hitched, shallow in your throat, and in that stillness that settled between you, Neteyam just looked at you. No teasing now. No smug smile or cocky flair. His eyes had gone quiet, darker, like a stormcloud just beginning to stir at the edge of a hot sky. His lips parted as if he might speak, but instead he simply leaned in, no hesitation, and kissed you.
Your thoughts stuttered to a halt.
His mouth was soft, warm, pressing against yours with an ease that spoke of long-held want, not hurried hunger. His hands slid from your wrists, letting them fall gently as his touch drifted to your waist, fingers curling against the dip of it like heβd done it in dreams. The other hand rose to your cheek, palm cradling the side of your face, thumb brushing beneath your eye with reverence that made your knees feel unsteady.
You were frozen for half a heartbeatβthe shock of him, the surprise of how natural it felt,Β and then your body remembered what your mind was still catching up to. You kissed him back, slow and unsure at first, but it didnβt matter. He met you where you were, always had, molding to your rhythm like he had all the time in the world.
Neteyam smiled into the kiss. A faint, crooked thing, full of triumph and affection, before parting from your lips just enough to speak. His breath was hot against your mouth, his voice low and thick, threaded with teasing. βSay it.β
You blinked, heart hammering. βSay what?β
He leaned closer, brushing his nose against yours. βThat I am the mighty warrior.β
Your lips twitched.
He was close enough that you could see every line in his irises, the way they shimmered like dusk through honey. His grip had tightened just slightly, the hand at your waist anchoring you, the other tracing slow circles behind your jaw. He was so sure of himself. So convinced.
You smiled and shook your head. βNo.β
Neteyam let out a sharp exhale that sounded like half a whine, the corner of his mouth curling in disbelief. He didnβt argue. He didnβt give you the chance to gloat. He surged forward and kissed you again, harder this time, mouth parting against yours with all the breathless urgency he'd held back. Your breath caught, hands flying up to steady yourself; one against his chest, the other curling into the beads of his shoulder strap,Β as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss with a heat that made your legs tremble.
His lips moved over yours like a promise, slow but insistent, full of all the things heβd never said out loud. His fingers splayed at your waist, pulling you flush to him, and the space between your bodies vanished in a rush of heat and need. His tail brushed yours in a slow arc, the contact electric, sending sparks licking up your spine.
You whimpered softly into his mouth, the sound swallowed between his lips, and felt the smile that curved against you in answerβsmug, satisfied, utterly Neteyam. He didnβt pull back this time. Not fully. He lingered, breathing hard, his forehead resting against yours, his voice a murmur between panting breaths.
βStill donβt want to say it?β
You closed your eyes, dazed, trying to collect your thoughts. βNever.β
He kissed you again before the word had fully left your mouth, lips slanting over yours with a hunger that made your knees buckle. His tongue brushed your lower lip, a tease that sent a bolt of heat through your core, tightening every muscle in your body. You barely had time to react before your back met the tree, the bark cool and unyielding against your spine. His body pressed into yours, heat rolling off him in waves, his presence filling every inch of space you didnβt know youβd been missing.
Your tail lashed behind you, twitching with frantic energy, coiling on itself in chaotic spirals. You couldnβt hide the way your breath caught, couldnβt pretend that this wasnβt affecting you. Not when his hand found your hip again, fingers spreading wide like he needed to feel all of you beneath his palm. His other hand settled on your jaw, his thumb grazing your cheek with a softness that contrasted the heat of his kiss.
When Neteyam broke the kiss, your lips were left parted, breath shallow, a low whine slipping out before you could catch it. His mouth lingered barely a breath away, close enough that his exhales tickled your chin. His eyes gleamed, dark with mischief, hunger, pride, but he didnβt speak.
He dipped his head instead, mouth tracing a molten path along the curve of your neck. His lips brushed your pulse point first, barely touching, and you shivered against him. His voice came next, low and amused and thick with velvet heat, each word murmured directly into your skin. βYouβre so easy to tease,β he breathed, letting his lips drag upward just beneath your jaw. βI kiss you once and you forget how to stand.β
You giggled despite yourself, fingers digging into his hips where your hands had settled, clinging like you needed to anchor yourself to him or else drift out into the air with no hope of return. Your head tilted instinctively, offering more of your neck to him, not consciously, but with the kind of blind trust that had always lived between you.
Neteyam noticed, of course. He always noticed.
His tail curled around your thigh like a vine climbing a trunk. The strength of it startled you, not because it hurt, but because it held. It gripped you, claiming space on your body like it had always belonged there, sending shivers racing up your spine. You felt his tail shift slightly, the smooth band of muscle flexing as it squeezed, drawing your leg flush against him.
Your breath escaped in a quiet moan, muffled into the space between his shoulder and neck, your lips brushing skin before you realized how close you were. You startled at the sound youβd made, face flushing with sudden heat. Your voice came stammering and small. βSorry.β
His chuckle was low and pleased, rich as honey and warm as firelight. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes narrowed slightly with that same mischievous glint he always wore when he had the upper hand. His grin was crooked, mouth glistening where heβd kissed you, and his thumb brushed the corner of your lip like he was savoring the look on your face.
βWhy are you apologizing, syulang?β he asked, voice soft but thick with heat. βYou think I didnβt like that sound?β
Your lips parted to speakβa protest, maybe, or just an excuse, but no words came. Your mouth went dry under his gaze, the intensity of it all-consuming. You couldnβt hide from the way he was looking at you now. Like he was seeing you for exactly who you were, and loving every second of it.
His fingers drifted lower, slipping beneath the edge of your waist wrap with casual ease, knuckles brushing the skin just above your hipbone. He didnβt push or pull, at least not yet. He just toyed with the fabric, eyes never leaving yours. His tail remained coiled around your thigh, the contact impossible to ignore, each twitch a reminder of how close he was, how tightly he held you.
βSo,β he murmured, leaning close again until his lips hovered just beside your ear. βTell me, yawneβ¦β
The word coiled in your stomach like fire. My beloved. Heβd never called you that before. Not even once.
ββ¦who is the mighty warrior now?β
You swallowed hard, trying to will your face back to neutrality, trying to resist the flush you knew was crawling up your chest. βStill not you,β you whispered, breath trembling.
Neteyamβs answering groan was low and dramatic, but it vibrated through you where his chest pressed to yours. βYou are stubborn,β he murmured. βSo stubborn.β
Your fingers shifted on his hips, curling into the bone beneath the skin. βYou like that about me.β
He laughed against your throat, his mouth returning there with a soft, open-mouthed kiss, no longer teasing. The heat in it made your spine arch subtly, your hips pressing closer into him. He responded instantly, pressing you harder against the tree, his hands sliding down to cup the underside of your thighs. You barely had time to react before he lifted you, strong arms curling beneath your legs as he pressed forward.
Your thighs parted instinctively to accommodate him, wrapping around his waist as your back hit the tree again. His strength wasnβt something he flaunted often, but in moments like this, when he lifted you like you weighed nothing, like carrying you was as easy as breathing, sent your heart racing, a heady thrill that soaked into your bones.
He held you pinned, firm but gentle, one hand gripping the curve of your thigh, the other bracing beside your head against the bark. His mouth found yours again, slower this time. He kissed you like he wanted to memorize the taste of your breath, like each movement of his lips over yours was carving the memory into his skin. You met him there, your arms sliding around his shoulders, hands threading into his braids, holding on tightly as heat bloomed through you like sunlight spreading across damp earth.
His body shifted against yours, fitting himself into you like puzzle pieces finally aligning. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the heat of his breath, the rhythm of his pulse beneath your palms. He wasnβt rushing. He wasnβt pushing. He was sinking into you slowly, like heβd waited long enough and didnβt want to miss a single second of it.
βIβve wanted this,β he breathed against your mouth, voice hoarse, full of unsaid things. βFor a long time.β
You nodded before you realized you had. Your voice came barely louder than a whisper. βMe too.β
His eyes closed, a pained kind of relief washing over his face. His forehead dropped to yours, noses brushing again, breaths mingling. You could feel every part of him, every inch of skin pressed to yours, every breath he drew like it was tethered to your lungs.
βSay it now,β he whispered, smiling slightly. βI earned it.β
You laughed softly, the sound shaking with nerves and heat, hands sliding down to his chest. His heart pounded beneath your touch, steady and strong. You leaned forward, brushing your lips across his jaw. βYouβre close,β you said, voice teasing. βVery close.β
His groan was muffled against your throat as he nuzzled into you, lips dragging across your skin in slow, reverent sweeps. βCruel,β he said. βYou are cruel to me.β
But his voice was full of warmth, affection wound tight into every syllable. There was no frustration in him, only hunger, only delight. You could feel how much he was holding back, how carefully he moved even now, as though he was restraining every instinct that begged to go faster, rougher, deeper.
βTell me what you want,β he said, voice low against your ear. βIβll give it.β
You inhaled slowly, dragging the breath deep into your lungs, letting your body remain still in his arms. His words hung heavy in the thick air between you, charged with the weight of promise, of invitation. Your lips parted like you might speak, but instead you tilted your head slightly, gaze rising to meet his through thick lashes.
βI donβt know,β you said softly, teasingly, though your eyes gleamed with mischief. βI think I need more time to decide.β
Neteyam clicked his tongue with exaggerated disapproval, the sound low and sharp, like a scolding chieftain addressing a rebellious warrior. His head tipped back slightly as he sighed, drawing the breath in slow and letting it spill over your neck in a warm stream that made you shiver. His arms flexed around you, holding you tighter against the firm lines of his body.
βYou test me,β he murmured, mouth brushing your throat as he spoke. βEywa help me, you test me so well.β
His lips pressed to your neck again, softer this time, a slow drag of his mouth over your skin, punctuated by a nip that made your toes curl. He stayed there, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your shoulder. Every press of his lips was a question, and every shift of his body said he already knew the answer.
His hips rolled against yours, the weight of him grinding into your core with an intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. It wasnβt a thoughtless motion, not the clumsy urgency of a boy chasing heat. He moved with purpose, dragging the thick press of his arousal up against the thin barrier of your wrap, the friction sending sparks blooming through your nerves. A moan tore from your throat before you could catch it, the sound cracking through the trees like wind breaking open the sky.
Your arms wrapped around his neck instinctively, holding him close, your fingers threading into his braids. He was so warm, so solid against you. The rhythm of his hips, the strength of his arms, the way he held you like you were precious and breakable, even as he rutted against you like he was half-feral. Your legs tightened around his waist, breath coming fast, heart hammering in your chest like war drums.
Neteyam groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your chest. His nose brushed the underside of your jaw, his voice a dark purr against your skin. βThatβs it,β he said. βYou feel that? Youβre making such sweet sounds for me, yawne.β
You couldnβt answer. Not properly, not when your body arched into his without thought, not when every nerve had narrowed to the place where he moved against you. Your hips rocked forward helplessly, seeking friction, more pressure, more of him.
βNeteyam,β you gasped, voice cracking. βPlease. Please give me more.β
His pace slowed, cruel in its precision, as his lips curled into a smirk against your throat. βMore?β he asked, his tone soft but thick with heat. βIβll give you anything you want. All you have to do is say it.β
You whimpered, breath shuddering as you clung tighter to him, but he didnβt let up. His hips pressed harder, his movements grinding up into your core with just enough restraint to make you ache. Every pass of his body sent heat pooling low in your belly, every roll of his hips making your wrap cling wet and clumsy to your skin. Your body was on fire, alive beneath him, need curling in every breath.
βSay what I want to hear,β he whispered, voice hot against your ear.
You bit your lip, teeth digging into the tender flesh, your face flushed from heat and friction and the unbearable tension in your spine. He kept moving, kept dragging himself against you like he had all the time in the world, like he didnβt care that your breath was catching in sobs, that you were unraveling for him.
He moved his hand then, sliding it up beneath your top wrap, fingers curling against your bare ribs as his thumb brushed just under the swell of your breast. His touch was teasing, maddeningly slow, dragging another broken sound from your lips.
βSay it,β he said again, slower now, drawing each syllable like a kiss against your ear. βCall me the mighty warrior.β
You shook your head, half in protest, half in desperation. βPleaseβ¦β
Neteyam groaned at the sound of your voice, hips rutting harder this time, less controlled. Your entire body jolted with the sudden pressure, your mouth falling open in a breathless gasp.
βIβm giving you what you asked for,β he said, voice low, breath ragged. βYou wanted more.β
Your body arched again, head falling back against the tree, mouth parted, lips trembling. The pressure was unbearable now, your whole body taut with the promise of release that hovered just out of reach. Every pass of his hips made your thighs twitch, your fingers dig into his shoulders, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.
Your voice broke again, soft, pleading. βNeteyamβ¦β
He pulled back, just far enough to meet your eyes, golden and wild. βSay it.β
You looked at him, really looked. His flushed cheeks, the mess of his braids, the sweat glistening on his brow. The way his mouth was swollen, the way his chest heaved against yours. He was beautiful like this.
βNeteyam,β you whispered again, voice hoarse with need.
He stilled, hips pressing forward one last time, the friction deep and perfect. Your mouth fell open, your whole body tightening, every breath a shudder. You couldnβt hold it back anymore. Not the moan, not the answer, not the way your hands trembled as they cupped his face.
βYou,β you breathed, gasping the words like they were sacred. βYou are the mighty warrior.β
His groan was full of stunned pleasure and unrestrained pride. He kissed you again, hard, swallowing your moan with a whimper that left you breathless.
βSay it again,β he whispered.
βYou are the mighty warrior,β you repeated, voice trembling.
a/n | hi!! i'm so so grateful for all the support i've been getting recently. like i would never imagine people would actually read my avatar works so wifjefweijf π i've also gotten a few requests and i'm so excited to work on those aswell!! also, neteyam is kinda ooc in this, but i think he's rlly funny in this so :,)
synopsis | neteyam says sky people kiss their close friends. you donβt understand it, but you let him show you. you donβt know what it means yet, only that you want more.
The wind sifted through the canopy above, weaving restless fingers through the vines that draped lazily from the thick limbs of the trees. Sunlight filtered in narrow golden columns, slipping across Neteyamβs shoulders as he crouched beside you, his braids falling forward, a shadow of amusement curled in the corner of his mouth. His eyes gleamed like the jungle after rain; bright, sharp, and watching you with an intensity that shouldβve burned. You were busy weaving, fingers threaded with fine strips of bark, tongue pressed between your teeth in concentration, completely unaware of how long he'd been watching you. He wasnβt subtle, but youβd never looked up in time to catch the grin twisting on his lips, or the way his gaze softened when your brow furrowed just a little in thought.
βWhy do you always sit like that when you work?β he asked, voice low, teasing, with the kind of lazy inflection that meant he was trying to get under your skin. His tail swayed behind him, betraying his amusement.
You blinked up, frowning. βLike what?β
He leaned closer, his arm brushing yours, heat trailing over your skin. βLike your whole life depends on what your fingers are doing. Like if you make one mistake, the forest might fall apart.β
You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it. βBecause I do not want to make a fool of myself. You know that.β
βYou could never be a fool.β He said it with ease, like a truth that needed no argument, but the way he looked at youβhead tilted, eyes liddedβwas a look akin to what mates give each other.Β
You missed it completely.
βIβm serious,β you huffed, scowling at the strand that slipped from your braid-in-progress. βThis is supposed to be for Tuktirey. I want it to be perfect.β
Neteyam made a soft sound, barely a hum, and sat beside you. His thigh pressed against yours, warm and solid, his skin smelling faintly of crushed leaves and sweat. βShe will love it,β he said. βEven if you tie all the pieces backwards. It is from you.β
Your fingers stilled. βYou think so?β
βI know so.β
It came without hesitation. Like he was already certain of every word you hadnβt yet said. Like heβd spent moons learning the rhythm of your voice, the exact pitch of it when you doubted yourself. There were so many things he knew about you. How you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were nervous. The way your tail curled around your ankle when you were cold. That you never called him by his full name when you were truly angry with him.
But still, somehow, you didnβt notice when he flirted.
He shifted closer, the curve of his mouth sharpening. βDo you want to know a secret?β
You turned to him slowly, wary but curious. βWhat kind of secret?β
His eyes glinted with mischief, teeth catching in the brief grin that flashed across his face. βOne from the sky people. My father told me. It is something they do when they areβ¦ very close.β
You tilted your head, shoulders tense, unsure if you were meant to feel wary or honored. βClose? Like mated?β
βNo,β he said, voice dropping, βnot always. Sometimes justβ¦ very good friends.β
βFriends do this?β
He nodded solemnly, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh. βYes. It is calledβ¦ kissing.β
Your brow furrowed. βKissing?β
He leaned in. βYou press your lips to anotherβs lips. Soft. Maybe warm. It is not about touching bodies. It isβ¦ how they show trust. Care. It is not like the Naβvi ways. But it means something.β
You considered him carefully. βYou say they do this with friends?β
βVery close friends,β he repeated, his voice dropping even lower, smoky, touched with a sweetness that curled in your chest like the first flickers of a fire. βFriends who meanβ¦ very much to one another.β
He saw the hesitation in your eyes and reached for your hand slowly, reverently, like he was handling a wounded bird. His thumb swept the back of your knuckles. βWe are close, are we not?β
You blinked. βOf course we are.β
Neteyamβs smile widened just a breath, but there was no cruelty in it, only the soft swell of affection, fond and burning. βI have always known your heart. I see you. And I know you trust me.β
You nodded. βWith everything.β
The moment hung there, suspended between heartbeats. The wind didnβt move. The forest seemed to hush, holding its breath. Your pulse beat heavy in your ears, not from fear, but from the strange warmth beginning to unfurl behind your ribs. You hadnβt known Neteyam could look at you like that. Like you were more than bark-woven necklaces and careful hands. Like you were more than a friend.
Still, you asked, quiet but unflinching: βWhy do you want to do it?β
He didnβt flinch either. His gaze didnβt wander. βBecause you are important to me. I want toβ¦ show you. Not just say it.β
You stared at him, eyes narrowing slightly, trying to gauge if this was another game, another soft trick of his tongue, like when he teased you about your clumsy knots or your wild braids in the morning. But he was still, the kind of still that felt sacred, like he was baring something raw and rare.
βAlright,β you said, finally. Your voice didnβt shake. βI trust you.β
Neteyamβs laugh was quiet, breathy, a sound that tasted like joy. He squeezed your hand, then guided you down until you both sat cross-legged, knees pressed together, your palms still joined. His hands were large, warm, and gentle, holding you with a care you hadnβt noticed before, or maybe hadnβt wanted to.
He brought his other hand to your jaw, fingertips brushing the skin just below your ear, and your breath hitched. His touch wasnβt demanding. It was reverent. Careful. Like he was asking permission every step of the way.
βYou justβ¦ close your eyes,β he murmured. βLet it happen.β
Your heart stumbled, but you obeyed. Your lashes lowered. The forest behind your eyelids seemed brighter, painted in strange colors. You could feel every inch of him. His warmth, his breath, the slow rhythm of his thumb against your cheek.
When his lips met yours, it was soft, curious, like a question. His mouth was warm, and the press of it was light, but sure. You felt the world tilt, just slightly, like the ground beneath your legs had shifted.
He didnβt move fast, didnβt deepen it. He stayed there, close, his lips grazing yours like a whisper, like a vow. You exhaled through your nose, instinctively leaning into him, and the smallest, trembling sound escaped youβhalf a sigh, half a question.
Neteyam pulled back only a breath, his lips still barely touching yours. βDid you feel that?β he whispered.
You nodded.
βThat is how sky people show their hearts.β
Your eyes stayed locked on his mouth, the fullness of his lower lip, the way it glistened faintly where it had just touched yours. His breath fanned across your skin and you didnβt lean back, didnβt blink, barely remembered to breathe. The world around you had not changed, but it felt newly born, as if the trees stood taller and the light had melted gold across every leaf. It was your heartbeat that filled your ears, your pulse that echoed, a thrum against your ribs like distant drums. There was a strange pull in your chest, an ache both exhilarating and unknown, as though your body recognized something before your mind had named it.
His fingers tightened around your hand,Β with a firm kind of intimacy that grounded you like a vine anchoring into earth. Your breath fled your lungs in a stuttering exhale, and the small, involuntary giggle that escaped your mouth was light as air, startled and soft.
βSoβ¦β you tilted your head, eyes closing just slightly, your voice touched with curiosity, ββ¦your father did this with all his close sky friends?β
Neteyamβs expression fractured in real time. First, his brows lifted, the color visibly draining from his face in a rush of disbelief and horror, his mouth parting as if he meant to answer but hadnβt yet found the words. The silence between you stretched taut, and for a moment, he only blinked, as if caught by a dart to the chest. But then his shoulders shook once, and he let out a shaky, unconvincing laugh.
βYβyes,β he managed, barely above a whisper. βAll of them.β
You gave a solemn nod, like you were weighing this new custom with the same reverence you gave the sacred rites of Eywa. βI see,β you said. βI think I understand nowβ¦ why they do it.β
He gave a sound, half-strangled in his throat, and his eyes searched yours, frantic and unguarded. The lie hung between you like smoke, transparent but cloying, and he mustβve known how little you believed it. But your tone held no accusation, only a quiet, curious honesty, warm as the hand still nestled in his.
βWould youβ¦β he began, voice hushed. βWould you want to do it again?β
The humming sound you made was quiet but clear, the vibration of it rising from your chest with the ease of certainty. He exhaled, a breath that seemed to unspool all the tension from his spine, and without needing to be told, he moved.
He lifted his hand to your face, palm gentle against your cheek, fingertips tracing just beneath your eye with the caution of someone brushing pollen from a flower. You hadnβt expected him to touch you like that, with a reverence usually reserved for prayer. His thumb rested against your jaw, and your lips parted slightly at the feel of it, a soft intake of breath betraying how much it affected you. He leaned in closer, until your noses brushed. The contact was tender, barely there, a subtle rub of bone against bone, warm and close and achingly gentle.
βMaβ yawne,β he whispered against your mouth, the words trembling on the edge of sound, caught between truth and confession. His voice was velvet, low and hoarse, shaped by the weight of something he hadnβt dared to say before. You didnβt ask what it meant. You only smiled, mouth curling beneath his, your breath warm as you leaned into the kiss he gave you.
This one was not shy.
Where the first had been a question, this was an answerβfull and certain. His lips pressed to yours with a quiet urgency, deeper, fuller, hungry in a way heβd tried to hide. His hand slipped from your cheek to cradle the back of your neck, holding you in place as he tilted his head, guiding the kiss into uncharted territory. Your breath caught in your throat, and your hands, once limp between you, rose on instinct to clutch at his shoulders, fingers curling into his skin like vines wrapping around stone.
Your bodies tilted inward, the space between you vanishing until his chest pressed to yours, his thighs bracketed against your knees. The heat of him soaked through every layer of skin, and your pulse drummed wildly where your heart met his, your stomach tightening with a deep, curling ache. He kissed you like he needed you to understand what his words couldnβt say yet, like every press of his mouth was a piece of language, building a story only you could read.
When he finally pulled back, it was only by a breath, his mouth still brushing yours. His voice came ragged, his words shaped against your lips like a spell.
βRelax.β
Your whole body shuddered with the weight of that word. You hadnβt realized how tightly youβd drawn yourself inward, how every muscle had gone taut with the effort of not dissolving. The way he said it. Soft, coaxing, protective, cut through your defenses. Your exhale was slow, trembling, and you melted beneath his hands, your weight pressing into him more fully. The kiss that followed was less urgent, but no less intense. There was trust in it now, not just curiosity, not just wonder, but a sense of giving in.
Neteyam made a sound in his throat, deep and low, like he hadnβt expected the way you melted into him. His hand slid down your back, just enough to steady you as you shifted, your thighs sliding over his, bodies drawn together like branches in a storm.
βI did not think you would let me,β he murmured, forehead resting against yours as his breath fanned over your mouth. His eyes were still closed, lips still parted.
βWhy would you think that?β you asked softly, barely more than a breath, your voice threading between you. βWe are friends.β
He didnβt answer with words. His silence wasnβt awkward, wasnβt heavy with guilt or uncertainty. His silence was controlled only by the last, fraying edge of restraint. He leaned forward, erasing the space youβd left him, lips closing over yours with a suddenness that stole your breath. This kiss was not shy. It was quiet, but insistent. A low-burning ember set against the skin, smoldering hotter than before. His breath came harder through his nose, warmer now, and the tremor that passed through his body wasnβt subtle.
Your hand moved without thinking, splaying over his chest, your palm landing just above his heart. His skin was hot beneath your touch, his muscles taut, breathing ragged and uneven. He made a sound that was sharp, surprised, almost a growl, shook through his throat and into your mouth, and your body reacted before your mind could make sense of it. Your gasp was soft but clear, lips parting, and in that instant, he surged forward, tongue sliding against yours in a motion so smooth and shameless you whined into the kiss without meaning to.
Neteyam did not wait. His hands slid down your sides,Β fingers pressing into your waist as he pulled you fully into his lap, positioning you over his thighs with a possessiveness you had never seen from him before. His body was hot, his pulse thudding beneath your hand like a drumline, and when your hips settled against his, the moan he swallowed into your mouth vibrated through every inch of him. His hands moved freely now, no longer hesitantβone gripping your lower back, the other slipping up your spine, fingers brushing the knots of your necklace, the dip of your waist, the curve of your ribs. The noise that left him was low, pathetic, as if he couldnβt contain the sensation of having you so close, so pliant, so willing.
Your tails flicked between you, brushing, curling, twisting in the chaotic rhythm of your bodies. His moved like it was alive with its own hunger, wrapping and twitching, a mirror of his building tension. Yours betrayed every spike of surprise, each involuntary thrill that coursed through you with every glide of his tongue against yours, every possessive pull of your body closer. Your breathing grew unsteady, helpless against the way his touch mapped you like a newly discovered land, like he wanted to learn every inch of you through fingertips and lips alone.
Neteyamβs hand slid up, into your hair, searching with purpose. His fingers caught the thick braid that lay over your shoulder, and he gave it a firm tug, sharp enough to jolt your attention. Your lips parted from his with a wet gasp, eyes wide, lips damp and swollen. You blinked up at him in dazed confusion, a sound barely escaping you. You didnβt speak, but your expression asked everything: What is it?
He stared at you, lips parted, chest rising in quick, uneven heaves, his golden eyes darkened and wild. His mouth opened, the beginning of a thought taking form on his tongue, the truth curling just behind his teeth.
But before he could speak, the branches overhead rustled.
Not in the distant way of wildlife. Not in the idle, lazy way wind tousles the leaves. This was footsteps.Β
Neteyam froze.
The tension in his body snapped taut, like a bowstring drawn too far, and his entire frame locked beneath you. His hands went still. His eyes widened in alarm, lips still hovering close to yours, his breath caught like a trapped animal.
Neytiriβs silhouette slipped through the canopy.
The sight of her; tall, radiant, fierce, descended like cold water over hot stone, hissing through the air. Her presence was quiet but impossible to ignore, a gaze sharp enough to pierce bark and bone alike. She said nothing at first. She only stood, eyes moving slowly between you and her eldest son, face confused.
Neteyam reacted fast. Too fast.
His hands gripped your waist and lifted you off him in one fluid, practiced motion, depositing you onto the soft ground beside him as though your body had burned him. His posture straightened, jaw clenched, tail tucked tight around his thigh, ears snapping back flat in alarm. He looked every bit the warrior-in-training again, despite the rapid flush of color that still stained his cheeks, and the unmistakable wet shine on his lips.
Neytiri stared at you both, her brow arched, arms crossing over her chest. βWhat is this?β
You blinked at her. A beat passed. Neteyam looked one gust of wind away from fainting, and your own heart thudded high in your throat.
You smiled.
Sweet. Innocent. Like the question was about gathering berries or collecting beads.
βKissing,β you announced brightly, tilting your head. βWe were kissing!β
Neteyam made a noiseβa strangled, horrified groanβas his hands flew to his face, dragging down across his features in sheer disbelief.
LMFAOOOOOO i struggle with writing him so much but like i said he is such a funny character. just lying abt what his dad said.. ik what u r neteyam.
a/n | hi hello!! I LOVEEE LO'AK SOO MUCH I'M GONNA SCREAMM. this is also my last oneshot for awhile, as uni is picking up :,) (i've lowkey been writing nonstop) this was also a request, anon just wanted lo'ak :^)
synopsis | lo'ak is given a camera by the sky people, and quickly becomes obsessed with capturing everything, especially you. he takes photos when you arenβt looking, but when he finally asks to take one of you, it's nothing like the other photos.
The forest had a different sound when you were alone with Loβak. Even with the hum of insects and distant calls echoing through the trees, there was a hush between you that made everything else seem like background noise. Vines curled like lazy fingers around branches, light dappled across his blue skin, and above you, the sky was half-shuttered with thick canopy, green and gold and aching with heat. Your toes dug into moss-soft ground, your hips leaning into the cool bark of a thick-rooted tree, half-bored, half-listening to him ramble about some new toy from the sky people.
βSee, lookβpress here,β he said, practically vibrating with excitement as he shoved the strange boxy object in your direction. His fingers were clumsy against the buttons, the edge of his thumb still smudged with ash from his earlier sparring session. His braid stuck to the side of his neck, damp with sweat, and when he glanced up at you, grinning like a child who'd just learned fire was hot, his eyes were glowing. Literally.
You frowned at the camera. βWhat is this thing again?β
Loβak let out an exasperated breath, all puffed chest and wounded pride. βItβs a camera. Norm said it captures what you see. Like... you press this button,β he said, tapping it with way too much force, βand it keeps the picture. Forever. So you can look at it again.β
You didnβt answer. You were too busy watching how his hands moved. The camera hung loose in his grip, but his fingers kept twitching, like they were resisting the urge to reach for something else. His tail flicked behind him in slow, irregular strokes. He was trying too hard not to be obvious.
You blinked. βYou can just... keep someoneβs face like that? In a box?β
He laughed. βYeah. Creepy, right?β
There was mischief in his voice, but he wasnβt laughing at the idea. He was nervous. You could hear it. Could see it in how he kept glancing at your mouth when he thought you werenβt looking, his expression turning a shade softer when your lip caught between your teeth in thought.
You didnβt know how many pictures he had taken already. Loβak never told you that part. That he carried the camera with him like a second set of eyes. That it held dozens of quiet moments; your face turned toward the sun, your braid caught in wind, your hands reaching for fruit, arms streaked with the sticky gold of nectar. He had a hoard of images no one knew about. No one but him. And you were in every one.
You let your eyes drag over him, head tilted slightly. βWhat do you want to use it for?β
The question hung there. You werenβt suspicious or accusing him. You just had quiet curiosity, the kind that could peel someone open without drawing blood.
Loβak didnβt answer right away. His mouth opened, then shut, like words had to fight through the weight of whatever was balled in his throat. He ran a hand through his braids, cleared his throat. βI want to take a picture of you.β
You blinked, unsure if youβd heard him right. Your lips parted. His ears twitched.
βWhat?β you asked.
βA picture. Just one. Of you,β he said again, softer this time. βWhile youβre looking at me.β
His voice dropped, lower than you were used to, the edge of it rough with nerves, like it had been pulled across stone.
The look on his face didnβt match the casual ask. His eyes were wide, bright like leaves after a storm, and there was tension wound through his body like a bow drawn tight. He was waiting to be laughed at. Waiting to be told no.
You tilted your head. βWhy?β
He blinked, startled. βBecause,β he said, weakly at first, then stronger, βI just want to see you. The way you are right now. You always look different when you're with me.β
That made your chest stutter. He didnβt say it to flatter you. His words werenβt smooth or practiced. They were raw, hesitant, like he didnβt trust them to land. Like heβd dug them out from someplace deep inside him, and they still trembled.
You nodded once. βOkay.β
βOkay?β
You shrugged. βYou want a picture. Take it.β
A slow grin curled his lips, but it wasnβt cocky. It was grateful. The kind that made your skin warm where his eyes lingered. He lifted the camera slowly, reverently, like it was a ritual tool, not just a chunk of sky metal and lenses.
βStay still,β he said. βAnd look at me.β
You did.
You looked at him, really looked, and it knocked the breath from his chest.
Your mouth was soft, curved in a barely-there smile, your head tilted as if you were studying him back. The light hit you just right, caught in the hollow of your throat and the curve of your cheek, and something in Loβakβs throat caught. His finger trembled on the shutter.
click.
You blinked at the sound. βThatβs it?β
He swallowed, hand dropping, camera held loose again. βYeah. Thatβs it.β
But he didnβt move. Didnβt look away. His gaze dragged over you, like he was trying to burn the image into his mind even beyond the one trapped in the device.
You stepped closer. Not much. Just enough for your hip to brush his hand where it hung by his side. βYou gonna ask me what I think of it?β
He laughed once, nervous and breathy. βNo. Iβm gonna ask if I can take another one.β
You lifted a brow. βSame pose?β
He shook his head slowly, voice thick. βNo. This time, I want you to smile.β
You gave him a lookβflat, teasing. βI was smiling.β
He took a step closer. His voice dropped, all velvet. βNot for the camera.β
You didnβt speak. You just looked at him, the line of his jaw, the way his brows lifted in gentle challenge, the faint hitch in his breath as you tilted your head again. Slowly, you let your lips curl, just barely, a soft, true smile that pulled across your cheeks and lifted into your eyes.
He lifted the camera again.
click.
But this time, he didnβt look at the photo after. He just stood there, frozen. Your smile lingered, and he watched it like it might vanish if he blinked.
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. βCan I tell you something?β
You didnβt move. βAlways.β
He lowered the camera to his side, reached up, and touched your hair gently. His fingers brushed the braid that lay against your collarbone, slow, thoughtful. His breath hitched.
βI take pictures of you all the time,β he admitted, eyes on the strand between his fingers. βWhen youβre not looking. When you laugh. When youβre angry at me.β
You didnβt look away.
βI donβt mean to be creepy,β he rushed on, stumbling, βitβs justβthose are the moments when you look alive. Like no one else sees you that way but me.β
Your heart did a slow, painful somersault. βWhy didnβt you tell me?β
His eyes met yours again. βI didnβt want to stop.β
Your breath caught, not because of what he said, but how he said it. There was no trace of mischief in his voice, none of the wild teasing that usually danced on his tongue. It was plain and unguarded, the kind of truth that lived too long in the back of a throat before daring to rise. His gaze didnβt waver, glowing low and slow in his golden irises, like embers waiting for wind.
You stepped toward him, your bare feet silent against the moss-soft earth. Reaching for the camera with delicate fingers, you let your touch linger on the curve of itβwarm from his hands. Your smile broke loose, wide and helpless, the kind that lifted your cheeks and crinkled the corners of your eyes. You giggled, the sound light, colored with disbelief and affection. βSkxawng,β you murmured, the word fond. βYou know I would have told you to stopβ¦ and then I would have let you do it anyway.β
Loβak blinked. Then his head tilted to the side, sharp chin lifted slightly, and for a moment you swore you were staring at his fatherβs ghost. It was that same look Jake gave Neytiri when she said something that undid him. Quiet pride braided with awe. His smile grew, one fang slipping past his lip. βYou would let me?β he asked, voice low, somewhere between teasing and reverent. βEven now?β
You didnβt look away. βYes. Even now.β
There was no wind in that moment, but it felt like the world shifted. Your chest was tight, too full, like the space inside you was being re-molded into a shape you hadnβt known you could carry. The air between your bodies buzzed, not with energy, but meaning. The way his fingers twitched, how his tail coiled tight behind his calf, the way he stared at you like your face was the first sunrise.
You took another step, until you were near enough to see the tremble at the corner of his smile. βLoβak?β Your voice softened. βCan we take one together?β
Surprise struck his features like a stone dropped in a still pondβripples blooming across his face. His ears lifted, eyes widening, mouth parting in the barest breath of astonishment. For a moment he didnβt answer, his thoughts flickering like a flame behind his eyes. But then he blinked, his mouth curving into that wild, half-sure grin of his, and nodded. βYeah. We can.β
You couldnβt stop the joy that surged up through your chest, spreading warm across your skin like firelight. Your smile turned radiant, reaching all the way to your eyes. Loβak raised the camera, holding it out in front of him the way heβd seen Norm do, arm extended, hand steady despite the slight shake in his fingers. The lens faced you both, but there was space between your bodies that was awkward and noticeable. It made your brows twitch in faint frustration.
You reached out, curling your fingers into the edge of his arm, tugging. He came without resistance. His body shifted against yours, his side brushing your shoulder, and you slipped into the curve of him like you belonged there. Your head tilted gently, pressing against his shoulder, the angle soft, casual. Like youβd done it a hundred times.
He stopped breathing. Or maybe he just forgot how.
His mouth went slack, eyes darting down to where your cheek rested against him. Your warmth seeped into his skin, left him stunned. His expression was open, too open. His lips parted just slightly, brows drawn together in quiet disbelief, as if he couldnβt understand how you were real, how this was happening.
You could feel him staring.
βLoβak,β you murmured, voice amused, almost scolding, βlook at the camera.β
He didnβt move. Didnβt blink. His lips curved, slow, stubborn, a smirk blooming with heat behind it. βKehe,β he said, voice low, rough-edged with feeling. βI would rather look at you.β
Before you could laugh, before your breath could catch, he pressed the shutter.
click.
The camera snapped.
But he didnβt pull back. Didnβt even glance at the photo.
You stayed there, pressed into his side, your heart beating in slow thuds, your cheek still resting against his shoulder. The air between you was thick, as if the trees had leaned closer to hear what you would say next. Loβakβs fingers twitched where they gripped the camera, and his other hand rose like he was reaching for a bird that might fly. He stopped just short of touching you, his knuckles brushing your waist.
βIβll keep this one,β he said, voice barely above a whisper. βForever.β
Your heart knocked against your ribs like it had lost its rhythm entirely. The weight of those words settled on your skin, thick and warm, like a shawl of heat woven from every unspoken thing between you. Your cheeks flushed instantly, not just with surprise, but with the kind of warmth that bloomed beneath the surface. You hummed softly, the sound low in your throat, almost bashful, your eyes flicking toward the camera still clutched loosely in his hand.
βI want one too,β you murmured, voice gentle. You glanced up at him from beneath your lashes, eyes round, voice barely more than a breath. βCan you take another? For me.β
Loβak didnβt speak, he just nodded, once, slowly, but his eyes never left you. Not even a flicker toward the camera lens. It was like he hadnβt heard the second part of your request at all, or maybe he had and decided he didnβt care. The way he looked at youβit wasn't playful anymore. There was no tease, no smirk. Just that deep, molten gaze, steady and burning. Like he was memorizing every inch of your face, every twitch of your mouth, every subtle shift in the air between your bodies.
You exhaled a sigh that was more of a laugh, rolling your eyes. βLoβak,β you chided under your breath, your tone warm despite the word. Your arm curled around his waist without thought, your body angling into him naturally. Your tail betrayed you completely, flicking and twitching with every thrum of excitement that you couldn't contain. βIf you are going to take the picture, you need to look at the camera. Not just stare at me like I am glowing.β
His lips parted, and the faintest curve of a grin shaped his mouth, but his eyes didnβt budge. βNo,β he murmured, head giving a slight shake, his voice dropping low. βI like looking at you better.β
Your heart fluttered up into your throat, too loud, too heavy. You opened your mouth to speak, to say pleaseeee with that sing-song tone you always used to get your way, but the word never made it past your tongue.
His mouth was already on yours.
It wasnβt rushed. It wasnβt a question. It was a claim filled with certainty, like he had made the decision long ago and was only now brave enough to act on it. His lips found yours with the kind of care that made your breath catch, slow and soft at first, a gentle pressure that melted the space between your bodies. You blinked once, stunned, the feel of his lips sending a wave of heat down your spine, pooling in the base of your stomach. His breath mixed with yours, warm and shallow, and instinct guided your eyes shut, your head tilting to fit him better.
You leaned into him without thinking. The moment your body relaxed into the kiss, Loβakβs hand rose to your cheek, his palm cupping it like it was precious, like your skin was woven from light and he needed to touch it to believe it was real. His thumb brushed over the hollow just below your cheekbone, featherlight, and your lips parted beneath his. He followed instinct like breath, deepening the kiss slowly, savoring the way your mouth moved against his like it was meant to. The kiss didnβt feel rushed. It was slow-burning, full of held-back longing and quiet hunger, like heβd been dying to taste you but had forced himself to wait.
His fingers curled against your jaw, cradling your face as his lips molded to yours with a new kind of reverence. His entire body trembled ever so slightly, his chest brushing yours as he tilted the camera slightlyβstill held in one handβand in the space between one heartbeat and the next, you heard it.
click.
He had taken the picture mid-kiss.
A whimper left him. It caught in his throat and spilled into your mouth, a soft, trembling sound that made your whole body buzz. There was no mockery in it, no dramatics, like the kiss itself had overwhelmed him, like the moment had pulled too much from him all at once, and he couldnβt keep it in. His hand dropped slightly, as if his strength had faltered, his fingers gripping your waist to steady himself, the camera dipping down and hanging loose from his wrist by the cord.
He pulled back first, just a breath apart, eyes still closed, forehead resting against yours. The world around you stilled. Your lips were tingling, parted and damp, your chest rising and falling fast and shallow. When you blinked up at him, your face flushed deep violet, all the breath knocked out of you, the first thing you managed to say was:
βI canβt believe you took a picture of that.β
The words came out high and breathless, more a gasp than a scolding, hands rising to cover your face. You were mortified. Your mouth was still tingling, your thoughts still tangled up in how he had kissed youβnot like a joke, not like a dare, but like he meant it.
Loβak let out a breathless laugh, stunned. The camera slipped from his hand, the strap unspooling from his wrist, and it landed in the moss with a muted thump, forgotten entirely.
βI donβt care,β he whispered, voice raw. βYou should have seen your face.β
His arms wrapped around you suddenly, pulling your body flush to his. Every inch of him pressed against you. His chest heaving against yours, his breath warm on your skin, his hands sliding low to anchor you. There was nothing hesitant in his hold anymore. You gasped softly at the contact, one hand instinctively bracing against his collarbone, the other gripping his bicep.
Before you could speak, his mouth was on yours again.
This kiss was different.
Gone was the slow build, the cautious reverence. This time, he kissed you like he needed it. Like you were the air he had been denied and now he couldnβt stop breathing you in. His hands moved with purpose, one flat against the small of your back, the other curling into your hip, grounding you to him. He tilted his head, lips parting to taste more, and his tongue swept against yours with a quiet, aching urgency that made your knees falter. You swayed into him, your tail flicking wildly in protest of how quickly your balance unraveled.
You moaned softly, involuntarily, the sound swallowed between your mouths. His answering moan was low and hoarse, vibrating through his chest and into yours. Your fingers curled into his shoulders, gripping tight. He kissed like heβd been starved. Like heβd thought about it too long. Like he was terrified you might vanish if he pulled back.
When he finally did pause, just enough for breath, just enough to whisperβhis words slipped against your lips, hot and trembling.
ohh if you write for jake sully, can i pls request a fic inspired by daydreaming by ariana grande? like the yearning and the longing ahhh itβd be so cute
WITH MY CHIN IN THE PALM OF YOUR HANDS
Daydreaming : Ariana Grande
pairing : jake jully (23) x fem!omatikaya!reader (21)
oc : sevin te satsu kran'e'ite
summary : Jake has a small crush on you, he was a bit confuse at first but he gets flustered.
contains : daydreaming , crush , fluff , no smut , jealousy ,show off , trynna get notices , showy jake .
wc : 1k
a/n : i don't know if i did well. avatar 1, although Neytiri ends up with tsu'tey and you end up with jake.
It was a cozy night at the hometree. It is filled with na'vis, your race. Dinner was served and voices can be heard outside. Fire is blazing and sending warm air on the cold night. The glow displayed outside, cool, moving and admirable.
You love dinner gatherings but this time you weren't with them. You wanted to walk outside after a tiring day. You had done a lot of training, almost haven't sat on a chair once. Meanwhile, your cousin Neytiri was busy teaching the newcomer, the outcast Jake Sully, the way of na'vi, so that means you have to spend less time with her. You could sense Neytiri hating the idea of teaching the guy, you can't help but giggle at how she would scold Jake for being stupid over the easiest thing.
Jake has seen you watching them train. Whenever he would catch your eyes, he would turn from stupid into an idiot who wants to impress you. That's when you know it's time to go. You can't bear him, he's arrogant, flirty. You rarely talk to him and if he tries, you will just turn around and start to walk away in the other direction acting like you didn't see him trying to open his mouth.
Him on the other hand enjoys your company. He loves how you would shoot sharp words back at him after he said something cocky that made you look at him in a weird way.
Continuing from our current time. You were outside of the hometree. Listening to the people laughing, talking while eating, but the birds and creatures calling could be heard. You love how the fluorescent lights overtake the whole forest with your freckles glowing on your body and face. It was perfect for you as the stars shine just above you.
Sitting just outside, you heard a footstep behind you. Assuming it was Neytiri, you began to speak without looking back.
"What is it, Tiri?" You spoke a bit early before even knowing who really it is behind you.
"It's Jake." A familiar cocky voice spoke and that's when you turned your head in the direction of the voice and saw Jake leaning on the wall of the tree.
You sighed and turned your head from him to the first view where your breath just got captured.
"Do not even get me started, Jake." Your voice was a bit rough, it sounds like a warning.
You can hear him smile with a huff.
"Why are you here alone?"
You didn't respond immediately, likely thinking for a better response.
"Needed some rest."
You could hear him hum and then slowly sank down to sit beside you.
"How so?" He asks like he didn't annoy the freak out of you earlier, doing everything just to make you roll your eyes at him or try to shut him up by trying to escape his tricks.
"You know damn well why."
"Guess it's me?"
"Exactly." Silence took over the two of you leaving jus the noise of the people inside the hometree laughing and talking with drums and music.
"So, tell me Sevin. How did i do with my archery earlier?" The atmosphere was cool but something, yes, something was in the air too. You've guessed it, tension. He sat beside you with distance so he wouldn't come out creepy. You could feel his gaze on you, well and testing. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly.
"Why are you asking me?" You can't help but give him a a side eye.
"Because i noticed earlier... you wouldn't stop watching me." He raised his eyebrows with a smirk.
You looked at him ridiculously as if he was a creep. "You look stupid."
"Stupidly good?"
"Stupidly stupid."
"You're lying."
"I might punch you right now." A chuckle left between his lips and grinned.
"Why don't you teach me on how to weave?" He suddenly recommended.
"I don't weave, i hunt." You reminded him without glancing at the man.
"Right." He nodded, like understanding what you meant. It wasn't obvious but when he turned to the other direction, a smile invaded his mouth.
A/n : i'm so sorry this shit is short asf. i don't have any idea.
βΊΛ βΈβΈ warnings/tags: suggestive content. no smut, but pearl clutching (at least for my writing), established relationship, PERV JAKE but not insanely so, just enough. always 18+ only.
βΊΛ βΈβΈ wc: 1.3k
β³ a/n: written in a drabble style but i got carried away, so it's way too long to be one. i need to stop labeling my writings as drabbles or one shots bc i just confuse myself. imma just let them be. i also i wrote this in one evening which i never do so this is insane.
βΊΛ βΈβΈ masterlist.
jake sully who can't stop watching you for the life of him. it's like he's barely treading water and youre underneath, pulling him by his ankles, and hes not even fighting.
in the biolab late at night, jake pretends to film his video logs even though the computer went dim ten minutes ago. eyes trained on you across the way, your sleeves rolled up to your elbows, tongue out between your teeth and grunting about a, 'stupid calibration sensor'.
you looked frustrated, as usual. one hand jamming a screwdriver into it, the other reaching up to gather the hair that started to fall in your face. you did it blindly, twirling it up best you could, but you eventually groan and use your other hand to secure it in a clip . your shirt rises with your arms up, midrift showing. jake's eyes immediately find the flesh of the bottom of your tummy, his own fingers itching to claw it.
as soon as your hands fall, he refrains a disappointed groan. loose strands of hair fall against the back of your neck and forehead anyways, despite your efforts.
jake's forgotten his video log entirely. doesn't want to deal with it. can't deal with it, with you being feet away and just existing. his mouth is parted, just gazing like a freak. the way your fingers rake through the strands, the satisfied huff when its somewhat out of the way. the tilt of your head when you finally look over is too cute.
"what?" you bite out, a suspicious pinch of your brows.
blinking slow like you just pulled him from a daydream, a coy smile slides on his lips. "nothin'," he starts, voice low and rough but eyes soft and admiring. "just like watchin' you work."
in an armor that jake hasn't broken through quite yetβhe will, he swears he will if it's the last thing he does on this planetβyou roll your eyes. a small part of you still thinks he's joking, making fun of you, that a guy that looks and acts like him wouldn't like you. the nerdy scientist. lucky for you, jake had a thing for nerds.
"pervert." you bite back and his heart jumps.
"guilty." jake retorts.
you suspiciously look up and over at him between movement, bent over and using the screwdriver in a unique way jake had never seen anyone do before. that seems to be a theme with you; surprising him. that's the whole problem, everything about you is new to him, no matter how long you'd known each other.
strands of hair fall in your face, over your eyes in wispy curtains. the back of your shirt rolls up this time, and jake swears he sees a sliver of pink lace kissing the soft skin of your lower back. that is, before his spank bank material is shattered and you angle your hips the other way. his mouth goes dry and the image is branded into his brain.
the hitch in jake's breath makes you look at him again, your bitten lips from concentration forming into your own smirk. he's leaned over, eyes following the movement, and if he wasn't strapped in jake looked like he would fall from his chair chasing after the sight. "eyes up here, sully. work.β you murmur in a teasing lilt.
jake's pulse quickens and he swears he's filled with more adrenaline now than he was when running from that thanator.
"can't help it." his voice is rougher now, but he straightens up. "you keep givin' me reasons not to."
you smirk more, never the best at hiding your emotions. "keep looking at me like that and i'll make you hold the flashlight."
"i'll hold anything you want me to." he grins crooked again, quick and willing. jake would do anything you told him to. dignity isn't a worry to uphold for jake sully; he lost it the first time he saw you. whatever it took to get you to know he wanted you, he'd do it, no matter how much of a fool he had to make of himself.
straightening slowly, you let the hem of your shirt fall down in the process and jake mourns the loss. you turn to face him fully, holding the screwdriver up lazily, wrist limp. "aren't you supposed to be logging data or something?" you already knew the answer as you said it.
"i'm multitasking." jake says. his eyes rake over you slowly, unashamed. "you're makin' it real hard to focus." he bites his lip and you laugh right in his face. jake beams, cocky as ever.
slowly, you take a few steps over to cross the distance, screwdriver swishing a bit in your hand. "you can't be serious." it's flippant, almost mocking him.
his eyes can't find a place to rest between the sway of your hips and pretty face. it seems you decide for him when you finally approach. a hand reaches out to grip his hair gently, but firm enough for him to feel it and inhale sharply. digits curl around brown tufts and push his head back, forcing him to keep his eyes upwards. jake lets you, always does. his hand grips the armrest of his chair, itching to touch you.
"poor baby." the fake pout on your lips sets him on fire. the tip of the screwdriver finds the underside of his chin, not pressing, but just sitting there.
jake wants to purr.
"is that all your brain is good for?" you tilt your head, eyes shining in mirth. his hand finds the back of your knee, sliding up to grip the meat of your thigh, just watching you. "just thinking of me? can't even do your work." you lean down closer, hand bracing on the arm of his chair. jake's hand squeezes your thigh tight.
breath catching audibly when the screwdriver nudges closer, jake doesn't look away, cheeks flushing like a badge of honor. "got somethin' more interesting right here." he speaks slow and rough and has the audacity to lick his lips.
you don't notice his foul play until his hand makes its way up your hip, lithe fingers dipping into the back of your jeans. expertly, he finds the string of your underwear and pulls it back before letting go, slapping it against your skin. simultaneously, jake's hooks his other hand into your beltloop and tugs you toward him.
squeaking, you stand straight from the sudden sting. caught off guard, his tug yanks you forward, and he's face to face with your stomach, shirt riding up. jake laughs at you this time, shit eating grin on his face as he looks up. warm palms come up to hold the sides of your tummy to steady you, slipping under the flimsy fabric of your t-shirt.
"you're an asshole, sully." you huff, gripping his hair hard this time; half for balance and half out of revenge.
"oops." he manages. jake makes a sound of pain from your hold, grip on your sides firmer, but doesn't bat you away. "you never seem to learn your lesson. can't let you think you're big n' bad." he cheeses, unphased.
you let go, taking his chin firmly in your grip. "do your work, jackass." you hiss before pushing off.
"aw, c'mon!" jake reaches out to you almost dramatically. it wasn't intentional to trip you up, just a happy accident, but he'd rather you on his lap right now than walking away. he definitely wouldn't have done it if he knew you'd waltz off, but that just meant he'd give you hell later.
jake has half a mind to start wheeling after you, but he knew you wouldn't let him get away with more tomfoolery in the lab. usually, the farthest you'd ever let him go was a lustful gaze from across the room before you glared, so this was a lucky run.
"seriously," you round the workstation to where you were before, not bothering to fix your shirt. jake mentally thanks you for not realizing. "i'll be done soon." the words are pointed, gaze is too, and jake gets the message.
summary,, you and dean are best friends. you thank him with an "i love you" after he passes you a beer, and he immediately knows you've done it for him.
wordΒ count,, 613
pairing,, dean winchester x reader
tags/genre,, soft fluff, dean absolutely folding for you, secret crushes
Youβre his person. Not in a dramatic, destiny way. Just in the quiet, everyday sense. Youβre the one he brings coffee to without asking. The one whose jacket he wordlessly drapes over your shoulders when the motel AC is too aggressively cold. The one he texts first when something stupid happens.
Dean tells himself itβs just habit.
You tell him everything. He already knows it all anyway: how you take your eggs, the song that always makes you cry, the scar on your knee from when you were twelve. He knows when youβre lying about being okay. Knows the difference between your tired and your Iβm fine, really.
You donβt make a big deal out of it. Thatβs the problem.
Youβre sitting on the hood of the Impala one evening, legs swinging, watching the sky bleed into dusk. Dean hands you a beer without looking.
βThanks,β you say, resting your head on his shoulder. Then, casually like itβs nothing, like itβs obvious βLove you.β
And keep talking.
Youβre mid-sentence when you realize heβs gone very, very still.
ββ¦Dean?β
Heβs staring at the bottle in his hand like it betrayed him.
βYouββ His voice cracks. He clears his throat. βYou just... what?β
You blink. βI said I love you?β
βYeah,β he says weakly. βI heard that part. Iβm justβsince when do you say that like itβs... like itβsββ
βNormal?β you offer. βBecause it is?β
Deanβs brain short-circuits.
Youβve said it before. In hugs. In jokes. In near-death moments. But this time itβs different. Quiet and easy. Maybe even unguarded. Like it slipped out because it lives there.
He laughs too loudly. βRight. Yeah. Totally. Best-friend love. Got it.β
You tilt your head. βDeanβ¦ are you okay?β
He swallows. βWhy wouldnβt I be?β
Because his ears are red. Because he wonβt look at you. Because heβs suddenly standing, pacing two steps, then stopping like he forgot how legs work.
You slide off the hood. βHey.β You touch his arm.
βYou know I do everything for you, right?β he blurts.
You blink. βYou do everything for everyone.β
βNo,β he says. βI do extra for you. I drive longer. I stay awake. I lie when I shouldnβt. I make sure you eat. I make sure youβre safe even when Iβm not.β
Your heart stutters.
βThatβs justββ You stop. βDeanβ¦ why?β
He finally looks at you, because heβs tired of pretending itβs instinct.
βBecause I love you,β he says, raw and honest and terrified. βAnd Iβve been loving you so long I forgot it wasnβt normal.β
Silence stretches.
Then you smile, stunned without words.
βOh,β you whisper. βDean.β
You inch closer.
βI wasnβt talking about best-friend love,β you say gently. βI was talking about you.β
For once, Dean Winchester doesnβt run.
He just exhales, like heβs been holding his breath for years, and lets you love him back.
You reach up slowly, and with a soft smile, press a gentle kiss to his cheek. It's just a whisper of a kiss, like youβre testing the waters.
Dean freezes for half a heartbeat, then lets out a quiet, shaky laugh. βYouβreβ¦ youβre killing me, you know that?β
You giggle, nervous. βIβm not trying to.β
βYeah, wellβ¦ keep doing it,β he murmurs, voice low and a little breathless.
Your hands find his shoulders, and his hands cover yours, warm and steady. You tilt your head slightly, and he leans in almost instinctively.
When you finally part, itβs only by inches, just enough to smile at each other and breathe in that quiet, perfect moment.
Dean mutters, half to himself, half to you, βYeahβ¦ best thing thatβs ever happened to me.β
You press your hand over his, squeezing gently. βMine too.β
thinking about husband!dean and how he still sweet talks you after all those years of being married..
a whistle.
thats what the all-mighty dean winchester could muster as he saw you in your barely-closed robe, reading a magazine in bed.
βhey sexy.β thats what got your attention.
your eyes drift up to dean, giving him a questioning look as he does a swagger walk over to you - as if hes trying to be cool about it.
βyou uh- you lonely in that bed? all by yourself..β he trails off, getting distracted by the sight of your unfairly shiny, and obviously freshly moisturized legs.
you close your magazine and look up at him, raised eyebrows and all, but a smirk makes its way onto your face nonetheless.
βdean winchester. are you trying to flirt with me?β
he scoffs, placing a dramatic hand on his chest.
βtrying? baby. i am in the middle of seducing you.β he states confidently, but his eyes search yours for any signal that its actually working.
he clears his throat, opting to keep going with the charade.
βyou know uh.. ive been told i make great company in bed. just in case you were feeling lonely.. or cold.. or horny..β
βdean.β
βyou know, im also great at making you hot- incase your cold. im freezing right now, but we could totally burn some calories together if you know what i mean-β
βdean.β
he looks at you, almost hopeful in your response. you knew each other too well.
βjust take your pants off already.β
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