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I Want My Rival Back

Pairing: Garrett Graham x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, swearing, slut shaming.

Word Count : 5.5k

Summary: After a scandal leaves Y/N isolated and broken, she discovers that it was her rival who has been quietly fighting for her all along.

A/N: Pictures from Pinterest, credits to owners!

Masterlist

The history professor tapped his pen against the podium, after scattering the graded midterms across the front desks, beaming. “The whole class performed better than I expected. I'm proud of you.”

Y/N was nervously tapping her fingers against her desk, waiting for the graded paper in anticipation. When the blue-inked paper landed on the desk in front of her, the first thing she saw was the grade circled in red: 94. She let out a breath she was holding in. She was happy with her score. It was an A, and to Y/N, it was a respectable grade. And she was proud of it until a smug voice drifted from the seat just behind her.

pucksandpower

breaking point (part two)

Garrett Graham x Reader

Summary: Garrett is supposed to hate you by association. You’re dating his rival. You’re wearing the wrong colors. But he doesn’t look at you like you’re the enemy, he looks at you like he’s seeing something everyone else has learned to ignore. And when you run out of places to hide, his number is the only one you can think to call

Warnings: 18+ content, domestic violence, sexual assault, and trauma recovery

Read part one here

You wake up to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains.

For a moment, you can’t remember where you are. The bed is too comfortable, the room too clean, the sheets smell wrong — not wrong, just different. Not like Cameron’s cologne and expensive detergent. Like something cleaner. Safer.

Then it all comes rushing back.

The napkin. The attack. Running through Boston in the freezing dark. Garrett’s voice on the phone, steady and sure. The apartment lobby. His car. This house.

pucksandpower

breaking point (part one)

Garrett Graham x Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, domestic violence, sexual assault, and trauma recovery

Read part two here

The locker room smells like victory — sweat, ice, and that particular brand of arrogance that comes from stomping your rivals into the boards. Garrett sits on the bench, unlacing his skates with practiced efficiency, while his teammates celebrate around him like they’ve won the Stanley Cup instead of just another regular season game.

“Did you see Beck’s face when you scored that hat trick?” Dean practically shouts, still riding the high. “Dude looked like he wanted to murder you.”

“Beck always looks like that,” Logan says, toweling off his hair. “Guy’s got permanent asshole face.”

finelinevogue

you’ll be okay

summary - you’re the most hated girl on campus because you broke garrett graham’s heart, but no one actually knows the truth.

pairing - garrett graham x ex!girlfriend reader

word count - 3.9k

a/n - this does touch on non consensual kissing, so please beware of that before you dive in

Before

Tell him the truth. You’ve just got to tell him the truth.

You walked into the brownstone off-campus house with a pit of anxiety in your stomach and repeating those words over and over again to yourself.

It’s not your fault. Tell him the truth.

The boys - Dean, Logan and Tucker - were sat on the leather sofas, bottles of beers in hand. You gave them your best smile as you shut the door behind you.

“Hey guys.”

They all looked at each other, like there something that they were trying to psychopathically figure out before replying to you. It was Logan who broke first.

“Hey, Y/N.” Logan almost sounded guilty for answering you.

You let out a nervous smile. The anxiety in your stomach increasing tenfold.

They couldn’t possibly know, could they?

holawdw

highly recommend

below are the works i'm reading/finished! please reblog, like, comment on their posts if you also enjoyed!

-- updating daily --

🔞 = 18+ MINORS DNI

✧ = series ◇ = ongoing ◆ = completed

rosierecs13

𝜗𝜚 Off Campus Masterlist

⭒ Masterpost ⭒ 05/19/2026

⭒ Books Masterlist ⭒ TV Shows Masterlist

garrettgr4h4m

Father-to-be Garrett

pairing: garrett graham x pregnant!reader

word count: 2k !

warnings: fluff and more fluff, morning sickness (garrett holds reader’s hair back), pet-names (baby, my girl, tucker calls reader ma’am), she/her pronouns are used twice, the boys being silly and cute, pineapple on pizza (might be a warning for some… ❌).

notes: this was a request ! hope you like it <33 reblogs and comments are much appreciated 💟

Father-to-be Garrett comes in a package deal. The quiet time you spend together sometimes gets interrupted by his friends-slash-roomates, but the chaos never bothers you.

swimthroughstars

But You Are Mine

Lo'ak x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: fighting, bleeding, bruising, yelling, not feeling accepted, bullying

Summary: You and the Sully's have a hard time adjusting to the Metkayina way. What happens when Aonung says something you just can't get over?

A/N: this is so perfect because it was someones request, but i'd also already had the idea for it, so combining my idea and the request ended up making this masterpiece!! (hopefullly) anyways enjoyyy

bananabaread-deactivated2026050

heyyy, this is my first request ever lol.

Could you make a chiefs daughter, who is like really awkward and doesn’t really understand feelings and allat, but it’s really gentle. Kinda like ronal but less mean. And she finds Lo’ak when he tries to, and tries really hard to make him know that he’s loved (sorry English is not my first lenguage)

Hello, don't worry about it! Thank you for requesting and for choosing me as your first ever! It's an honour. <3

I already did something similar here so I'll make this a "continuation" of part 1, hope this is okay! :)

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

You weren't sure if Lo'ak was avoiding you, or if the knowledge of what you had seen that night simply made you more aware of his distance. He still defended you from Aonung's teasing, and if you thought about it, you never sat close for communal dinners, never joined him on hunts or even swam together daily — but now you were more aware of his presence in the clan — every time your eyes caught the reflection of deep blue in the water they seemed to follow him, seemed to linger when he sat on the shore staring out into the ocean. You kept an eye on him during dinner, making sure he took a serving of food and more so that he was eating it.

His family didn't seem to notice, the Metkayina boys he would swim with didn't seem to notice, not even Tsireya who had been assigned to teach him the Metkayina way seemed to notice. They didn't know, but you couldn't blame them — tensions were rising with the sky people, his father never stopped, his mother was still grieving, and Kiri and Tuk were just trying to get by. Even Tsireya and the Metkayina boys were growing worried for the life that was all they had known.

So you decided that you would be the one to notice, and you would help Lo'ak to see that.

He sat on the reef, seaweed and shells in his hands as he attempted to weave together a net for fishing. The eclipse had started to turn the sky swirling shades of purple and the water reflected the dimming light like the stars suspended above it. His hands moved with hesitation, but also with definite improvement. Since that night he had thrown his all into learning — that look on your face was something he never wanted to see again, so he would distract himself with tasks, asking around if there was anything he could do to help. He learned to weave, to fix holes in the paths and maruis around Awa'atlu, he volunteered for more hunts and to drag in the nets at the end of the day, and now he was learning to fix those nets. Anything he could focus on instead of the dull feeling in his chest.

jinxyswritting

Savior

Summary: To trust, and to be trusted - two sides of the same coin. He taught you how to believe in gentle words, in careful touches, in love that didn’t ask for pain in return. He pulled you back from the darkest corners of your mind, where fear had learned to speak louder than hope. And in the end, when it mattered most, you were the one who stepped forward and saved what his heart could never afford to lose.

Pairing : Lo’ak x Female!Reader

TW! : Emotional abuse, Trauma, Blood, SA mentioned!

WC :

!! ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP !!

You didn’t know when it began to change. Only that, at some point, the boy you had known as a demon and not much more, stopped being just another presence in Awa’atlu and became something tangled deep in your memories - knotted with fear, awe, and an understanding you were too young to name.

You had known him since the day his family arrived, their ikrans cutting clean lines through the lagoon as they were welcomed into the reef. Back then, he was all sharp teeth and sharper words - a feral child with wooden beads in his hair and rebellion in his blood. Always loud, always restless. He challenged everyone, questioned everything, and somehow always ended up at the center of trouble.

Watching him was like watching a storm form over calm water: you knew something was about to break, you just never knew what.

He was the only one reckless enough to earn Ronal’s open fury more than once. Her patience was legendary, her wrath even more so. And yet, he met it head-on, chin lifted, eyes blazing, as if daring her to strike him down. In a strange way, it made people fond of him. Or at least entertained.

Bless her heart, indeed.

You, on the other hand, were nothing like him. You were only a child too - but a quiet one, with a fragile spirit that startled easily. The world felt too loud, too sharp, too demanding. When he and his siblings tried to pull you into their games, their laughter echoing across the shallows, you always disappeared. Slipped behind woven curtains, hid among coral shadows, held your breath until the danger passed.

Your family made sure fear became your second skin.

As the youngest of their children, expectations clung to you like wet sand. You were supposed to be fierce, relentless, unyielding, just like your older brothers. Warriors. Hunters. Born with spears in their hands and fire in their hearts. The fact that you were a girl meant nothing to them. If anything, it made your failure more unforgivable.

There was always a voice reminding you of it.

“Weak limbs.” “A burden for this house.” “You bring shame to this family.”

The words followed you everywhere, sinking into your bones. You weren’t allowed to play with others your age, weren’t allowed softness or rest. Instead, you were placed among adults, expected to work, to assist, to endure -- just as your brothers did.

Your small hands learned labor before they learned joy.

Did it matter when your muscles trembled from exhaustion? No. Did it matter when your skin split open, when blood mixed with saltwater? No.

Pain was treated as correction. Silence as obedience.

Eventually, even your older siblings grew tired of you. Watching you was a responsibility they never wanted, a burden that brought punishment when you failed to improve fast enough. And so, they found other ways to rid themselves of you.

They shoved you into dark, airless places and left you there for hours, knowing fear would keep you still while they ran free. They forced you into training meant for bodies far stronger than yours, pushing until joints gave way, until fingers bent the wrong way, until cuts carved themselves into scars that never quite faded. Each injury was dismissed as weakness. Each tear, an insult.

But there was a moment - a single, irreversible moment - when something inside you finally broke.

They watched. That was the part that stayed with you the most. They watched as one of their friends crossed a line that should never have existed, his intent cold and merciless, as if you were nothing more than an object left unattended. No one stopped him. No one spoke. You were stripped of dignity before you were stripped of breath.

You fought.

For the first time. For the last time.

You didn’t remember how you got away - only the copper taste of blood filling your mouth, your lungs burning as you ran. The world blurred as your legs gave out beneath you at the entrance of the Tsahik’s marui. Your body shook uncontrollably, the beaded top you had worn gone, your skin marked with bruises and teeth and terror.

Ronal didn’t ask any questions.

She took one look at you and knew.

Her hands were steady as she wrapped you in cloth, her presence a wall between you and the world that had failed you. And before the sun dipped beneath the horizon, justice - reef justice, swift and absolute - had already been carried out.

You never spoke of it again.

From that moment on, you never saw that boy again. Nor your family.

And honestly? You didn’t even question it.

Questions belonged to a life you no longer lived. Whatever had been done was done, sealed beneath the water like bones swallowed by the reef.

You were given a small place of your own, tucked close enough to the Tsahik’s marui that Ronal could keep an eye on you without smothering you. She and Tonowari watched over you the way they watched over their children - not with pity, but with quiet vigilance. With rules. With safety. With the unspoken promise that no one would ever touch you without permission again.

Growing up under Ronal’s wing reshaped you. She didn’t coddle you, but she never broke you either. You followed her everywhere - through the soft glow of dawn rituals, through long nights heavy with chants and incense, through moments when the sea itself seemed to hold its breath. You learned to listen before you spoke. To observe currents, not just in water, but in people. Healing wasn’t only about hands and herbs; it was about patience, restraint, and respect.

You became her right hand without ever meaning to.

You memorized her movements, anticipated her needs, learned when to step forward and when to fade into the background. The clan came to rely on you - quiet, efficient, unassuming. No one called you weak anymore. No one dared.

Still, the past never truly loosened its grip.

The child you had been was gone, but the scars she carried lived on in your body and in the places of your mind you never let anyone touch. Trauma clung to you like a curse whispered by the ancestors. You avoided crowds, laughter that grew too loud, celebrations that blurred into chaos. You didn’t explore beyond what was necessary. You stayed in the same familiar paths, the same stretches of water, the same few places where your heart didn’t race.

Safety became your religion.

And then there was him.

Lo’ak.

The feral boy had grown into something else entirely - still sharp-edged, still reckless in spirit, but tempered by loss, discipline, and responsibility. Among the hunters, his name carried weight. Respect. Expectation. He was being shaped into a leader whether he liked it or not, the kind who fought first and thought later, but always cared deeply, painfully so.

He became your undoing without even trying.

He noticed you long before you noticed him. The way you moved quietly behind Ronal. The way your eyes always scanned a space before you entered it. The way you flinched - not visibly, but internally - at sudden noise or touch.

Where others saw distance, he saw depth.

In his eyes, you were a pearl - hidden, guarded, forged by pressure and pain. And he wanted nothing more than to prove you were worth the patience it took to find you.

He fought for every inch of your attention. Not with force, not with arrogance - but with persistence. With presence. He learned when to speak and when silence was kinder. He learned your rhythms, the subtle tells in your body language. He never cornered you. Never demanded.

He waited.

It took time, so much time, for you to even dare look at him without your guard snapping into place.

But he never gave up.

Little by little, he taught you that trust didn’t have to come all at once. That it could be built in fragments. Shared glances. Brief conversations. Sitting near you without expectation.

Baby steps, taken carefully, respectfully. And somehow… they worked.

The connection didn’t announce itself. It simply settled. One day he was a stranger you avoided. The next, he was there, always there, offering a teasing smile, a gentle word, a presence that warmed instead of burned. He softened you without breaking you open.

You were there for him when the weight of the wars crushed his chest, when grief hollowed him out and left him staring into the water like it might answer him back. You stayed when he clashed with his family, when the future they carved for him felt like a cage. You held space for him during the nights his mind betrayed him, when doubt gnawed at his sense of self and he unraveled in ways no one else ever saw.

And he stayed for you. That saved you.

And he fell, quietly, irrevocably, painfully, in love with you.

So much so that at times it scared even him. Because what he felt was too gentle, too steady, too real to belong to a world that had taken so much from him already. You felt like something precious the universe had forgotten to take away. And anything that beautiful, Lo’ak knew, never came without a price.

His parents sensed it too.

You were too calm. Too kind. Too soft around the edges, where their son was all sharp angles and scars. To them, it didn’t make sense. You were not loud, not demanding, not forged by battle in the way they understood strength. And Lo’ak was their only son left. The weight of that truth sat heavily on their shoulders, pressing suspicion into every look they gave you. How could a living being, with such a feral spirit, fell for such a rough man?

How can you be so soft all the time? Never showing anger, never demanding, always there to bow your head when someone needed something.

Maybe it was fear. Maybe jealousy. Maybe grief that had nowhere else to go.

You noticed the distance immediately - the way conversations died when you approached, the polite smiles that never reached their eyes, the subtle coldness that brushed your skin like a current you couldn’t fight. But you kept it to yourself. A secret, carefully sealed.

Lo’ak already stood on fragile ground with his family most days. You refused to be another crack in the ice beneath his feet.

He found out anyway.

He always did.

It happened after yet another fight between him and Jake - voices raised, tempers flaring, old wounds ripped open and thrown back like weapons. It escalated fast, too fast, spiraling into something ugly and painfully familiar. You stepped in without thinking, instinct overriding caution. You had enough of watching him tear his soul open for a little crumb of understanding.

“Stop talking like that! What’s gotten into you?” You reached for Lo’ak’s hand, fingers wrapping around his wrist, grounding him. Your voice didn’t rise. It never did. It stayed soft, steady, and that was usually enough to pull him back from the edge.

But this time, the storm turned toward you.

“You stay out of this! And cut the crap!”

Jake’s words struck harder than any blow.

You froze.

The present shattered, replaced by something old and buried deep. Your father’s voice. The same sharp tone. The same condemnation. The same message: you are wrong for speaking, wrong for existing here.

“I—I’m sorry, Sir!”

The words escaped you before you could stop them, reflexive and raw. Your chest tightened painfully, breath catching as if invisible claws had sunk into your ribs. For the first time in years, you forgot how to hide it.

Horror flashed across your features. Your ears flattened instinctively against your head, posture stiff and submissive, eyes darting around the space like a trapped animal searching for escape. You weren’t there anymore—not really.

Everyone saw it.

And Lo’ak snapped.

Before another word could be thrown at you, before another wound could open, he bolted, pulling you with him, his grip firm but careful, shielding you with his body as he dragged you outside, away from the noise, away from the voices, away from the past clawing its way back to the surface.

From that moment on, you kept your distance from his family.

Not out of spite. Not out of anger. But self-preservation.

Lo’ak noticed, of course. He always did. But he didn’t push. He wasn’t angry - not at you. If anything, it only deepened his resolve to protect the fragile peace you had built together.

Then the sky burned again.

Another Sky People attack tore through the fragile calm, plunging everything into chaos. Screams, alarms, frantic movement - pure madness. For once, neither Jake nor Neytiri had a plan solid enough to shield everyone beneath it. Instinct took over. Survival. War.

They fought as they always did. For their family. For their people. For safety.

Watching Lo’ak prepare to run into battle - after whispered goodbyes that sounded too much like final ones - something inside you snapped. The calm you had mastered for years cracked wide open.

Because loving him meant knowing, deep in your bones, that the ocean did not always give back what it took.

And this time, fear didn’t make you small.

It made you burn.

For the second time in your life, you chose to fight.

Not because you were ready - emotionally, you were splintering- but because standing aside felt worse. Doing nothing would have destroyed you faster than fear ever could. At least this way, you were useful.

You didn’t understand the Sky People’s fire guns. They were loud, brutal, impersonal. Distance without soul. But a bow? A bow listened to you. It followed your breath, the tension in your shoulders, the quiet focus you had learned beside the Tsahik.

Archery had always answered you faithfully.

So you stayed back, hidden between water and stone, and you became still.

From a distance, you watched over Lo’ak and Neytiri, your arrows flying clean and precise. Each release cleared their backs, carved space for them to move, to survive. Jake fought farther ahead, separated from the rest - efficient, aggressive, too sure of himself. He moved like someone who had survived too many wars to believe this one could take him.

It was a mistake.

You felt the shift before you saw it - the wrong kind of silence, the brief lull predators wait for. One of the Avatars noticed the opening too. You saw him clearly, the way his mouth curled, the confidence in his stance as he raised his weapon and aimed straight at Jake’s back.

You reached for another arrow.

Your fingers closed on empty air. Something snapped inside your head - not panic, not fear. Clarity. Pure and brutal. Your body moved before thought could catch up, syncing perfectly with the sound of the weapon firing.

The sound was sharp, violent, tearing through the air, and then pain exploded through you. A searing, molten heat tore into the left side of your chest, spreading upward toward your shoulder, downward toward your abdomen, as if fire itself had carved a path through your body. The force of it sent you backward, crashing into the water with a hollow, helpless splash.

Instinct took over.

Your palm flew to your chest, pressing desperately against the wound, but blood poured through your fingers anyway, warm and unstoppable. It spilled into the water in thick clouds, staining everything around you a bright, horrifying red as you floated helplessly on your back, staring up at the fractured sky.

The adrenaline kept you awake.

Too awake.

Every sound carved itself into your awareness: gunfire cracking like thunder, screams breaking apart, water splashing violently around you. Your heart pounded erratically, struggling to keep up as your body began to fail.

Time lost meaning.

You couldn’t tell if you had been drifting for seconds or centuries.

Then the adrenaline began to fade.

The water turned painfully cold, seeping into you, stealing warmth from your limbs. Your body started to shake uncontrollably, teeth chattering as weakness crept in. Your vision blurred at the edges, dark spots blooming like ink in water.

Hands grabbed you.

Rough, urgent, desperate.

“Oh no… no, no, no…”

Jake’s voice cracked as he pulled you from the water, hauling you against him. His face hovered above yours, stripped of command, stripped of certainty, just fear left behind. His hands trembled as badly as your body did, moving over you, trying to assess the damage, trying to stop something that wouldn’t stop.

“I found her!” he shouted, panic tearing through every word. “Lo’ak, she’s here!”

That was when your eyes filled with tears, spilling freely before you even realized you were crying. The desperation in his voice shattered something deep inside you.

Splashing. Ragged breaths.

And then you saw him.

Lo’ak.

The most precious person in your life stood before you, frozen in horror, his face drained of all color. His eyes locked onto the blood soaking your body, onto the way you barely moved, barely breathed.

“Y/N, baby…”

His voice broke completely. He couldn’t even form the words, hands shaking as he gathered you into his chest, holding you as if letting go would end you. His heartbeat thundered against your ear - fast, frantic, terrified.

“The bullet pierced through,” Jake said, his voice thick, raw with pain. “She’s bleeding too fast...”

Those words echoed.

Too fast. Too late. Too familiar.

“I’ll be okay… don’t worry…”

The words came out weak, barely more than air, but you forced them past trembling lips. Your body was so tired, aching in a way that went beyond pain, beyond fear. And yet your heart refused to slow, hammering wildly against your ribs, your breathing ragged and uneven, as if it alone was keeping you tethered to the world.

“Don’t let go of me,” you whispered.

You felt him then, really felt him. Lo’ak’s chest shook violently against your cheek as he broke, sobs tearing out of him with no shame, no restraint. His arms tightened around you like a lifeline, like if he held you hard enough, death itself would be forced to retreat.

“I’m sorry,” he choked. “I should-...I should have stayed back… I should have protected you…”

Each word sounded like it was ripping him apart from the inside. You wanted to lift your hand, to touch his face, to tell him none of this was his fault. That you chose this. That you would choose him again, every time. But your fingers wouldn’t listen anymore.

They felt distant. Heavy. Numb.

“It’s okay…” you tried to say. What came out was barely sound. “I’m sorry… I just wanted to help…”

Your tongue felt thick. Your thoughts slipped, scattered like sand through open fingers. The cold had settled deep into your bones now, your body no longer shaking, an absence that scared you more than the pain ever had.

Then Neytiri’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and urgent, pulled tight with fear.

“Ma’Jake! Lo’ak! We have to move her, now! Before it’s too late!”

You wanted to tell them it was fine. You wanted to tell them you weren’t afraid. You wanted to tell Lo’ak not to look at you like that.

But your lips refused to part.

The world dimmed, sounds muffling as if you were sinking beneath deep water. Faces blurred above you. The weight of Lo’ak’s arms faded, not because he loosened his hold, but because you could no longer feel them.

The last thing you registered was his voice, breaking completely as he called your name.

History repeated itself.

Once again, you were small and broken in someone else’s arms. Once again, blood marked the water. Once again, the people you loved looked at you with fear instead of safety.

And as darkness pressed closer, one thought clung to you like a final prayer:

Not like this. Please—not like this again.

“So… how did you get here?”

The question was gentle, almost careful, as if he was afraid the words themselves might break you.

You knew this place. You felt it the moment you opened your eyes.

The golden light filtering softly through the ancient branches, the air warm and still, heavy with peace. Sacred seeds of Eywa drifted lazily around you, glowing faintly as they settled at the roots of the towering tree. The ground beneath you felt solid, alive, too alive to be a dream.

Neteyam sat beside you.

He looked exactly as you remembered him. Unchanged. Whole. The same calm strength in his posture, the same quiet kindness in his eyes. No wounds. No blood. No weight of war carved into his face. Seeing him like this made your chest ache in a way that felt eerily familiar.

“The Sky People…” you said slowly, your voice uncertain, like it didn’t fully belong to you yet. “I was fighting. Then…” You frowned, trying to pull the memory together. It slipped through your grasp, fragmented and blurred.

But the sensation - the pain - lingered. A phantom burn in your chest, tight and sharp, as if your body remembered what your mind refused to hold. “Then everything hurt.”

You swallowed. “I tried to save your father.”

Neteyam didn’t answer right away.

He studied your face, your posture, the way your shoulders curved inward as if bracing for something. He recognized that look. He had worn it himself once - when Lo’ak had told him how he died, stumbling through the words like they might cut him too.

“They are lucky,” he said softly at last. “Very lucky to have you with them.” His gaze warmed, filled with gratitude and something painfully close to pride. “ Thank you… for looking after them. For being there in the ways I never got the chance to.”

That was enough.

Your vision blurred instantly, fat tears spilling over despite your effort to stay composed. Neteyam’s loss was a wound that never closed, no matter how much time passed. Maybe he didn't mean much for you back then, but in time, his absence grew on you too.

“It’s such a shame,” he continued gently, his voice tinged with sadness, “that you ended up here so young.”

He offered a small, wistful smile.

“You are a warrior. With a strong heart. Stronger than you realize.”

You tried to laugh, both of you did, a weak attempt to lighten something far too heavy to be carried lightly. Even as a spirit, his pain showed - etched into him like a deep, invisible scar. Death had not erased it. It had only quieted it.

“That’s exactly why you don’t belong here,” Neteyam said firmly now, his tone shifting. “Not yet.”

He leaned closer, eyes steady, certain. “You need to go back. Back home. Back to Lo’ak. Back to your people.” His voice softened. “You still have so much left to add to your song cord. Your story isn’t finished.”

He reached out then, wiping the tears from your cheeks with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. His fingers lingered, brushing against your hand, then stopped, as if struck by the reality of what that touch meant.

“Go home,” he said quietly. “And tell them how much you love them.”

His voice cracked for the first time.

“Because I didn’t have time to.”

The golden light around you brightened, the seeds of Eywa swirling faster now, as if urging you forward. And deep in your chest, beneath the pain, beneath the fear, you felt something else ignite.

A pull.

When your eyes flew open, the world refused to settle.

Everything swam in and out of focus, colors bleeding into one another. Your head throbbed relentlessly, each heartbeat slamming against your skull like a drum. Your mouth was painfully dry, tongue heavy, and your heart beat so hard against your rib cage it felt as though it might tear its way out of you.

You tried to ground yourself, dragging in a shaky breath, then pushing your weight onto your elbows. Pain exploded instantly, sharp, unforgiving, forcing a gasp from your lips as your body betrayed you.

Too much. Too soon.

You looked down instinctively and froze.

White cloth was wrapped tightly around your chest, layered and secured with care. The smell of medicine burned your nose - bitter, sharp, unmistakable.

You were alive.

“You’re awake!”

The words came rushing, almost disbelieving. Footsteps echoed, hurried and uneven, making your ears ring. And then Lo’ak was there, all over you.

His hands cupped your face like he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t anchor you to him. His lips pressed softly to yours, careful, reverent, then again to your forehead, lingering longer this time.

He looked wrecked. Dark circles hung beneath his red, glossy eyes, his lips cracked and dry, his face pale in a way you had never seen before. He looked like someone who hadn’t slept, hadn’t breathed properly, in days.

You lifted your arm with effort and wrapped it around his torso, pulling him down toward you as much as your strength allowed. You needed to feel him. Needed the proof.

“I see you…” you whispered, voice rough, rubbing your nose gently against his.

That was all it took.

His composure shattered. Tears spilled freely, warm as they landed on your cheeks, soaking into your skin. You tightened your hold on him instinctively, fingers curling into the back of his neck.

“I was so close to losing you,” he sobbed, voice breaking apart between breaths. “I had you bleeding in my hands—I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t help you.” His forehead pressed against yours, shaking. “I’m so sorry, my love. My beautiful girl…”

He was trying, trying so hard, to stay strong, because you were weak, because he thought he had to be.But seeing you awake, breathing, eyes open and focused on him after everything… it broke whatever walls he had left standing.

“I’m here,” you murmured into his ear, clinging to him with everything you had. “It’s okay… I’m here.”

“I never asked you…”

His voice was quiet, hesitant in a way you had rarely heard from him.

It had been a few weeks since the stitches were finally removed, since your body had stopped aching with every breath and begun to feel like your own again. You were sitting close together, the world slow and peaceful, the kind of calm that only comes after surviving something that should have ended you.

“What?” you replied absently.

Your fingers were busy, gently rolling the beads of the bracelet around his wrist - the one you had made him so long ago, when neither of you knew how deeply your lives would intertwine. The familiar texture grounded you, kept you present.

“You were gone for a while,” he said softly. “After Norm stabilized you.” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Did you… I don’t know. See something? Hear something? Was it like sleeping?”

That caught your attention.

You stilled, breath hitching just slightly. You hadn’t spoken about it, not really.

In the aftermath, you had been too focused on surviving, on holding each other together, on reassuring him that you were here. That you hadn’t left him behind.

“Well… kind of,” you admitted. “I went to the Tree of Souls.”

You swallowed.

“And I spoke to your brother. He’s the one who sent me back.”

You watched his eyes widen in shock, the breath leaving him in a silent exhale. Then the tension in his face softened, melting into something warm, reverent, almost relieved.

“Bless his soul,” Lo’ak murmured, a faint smile touching his lips. “He always has my back, even now.”

His arms tightened around you, protective and sure, pulling you closer as you both watched the sunrise bleed gold into the calm sea. The water shimmered gently, unbothered by the violence it had witnessed weeks before.

“It took me time to understand what he meant,” you continued quietly. “What that moment was trying to teach me.”

You leaned into him, feeling steady, grounded.

“I learned that I have to really live my life. I only have one.” Your voice softened. “And the moment I woke up… everything felt different.”

You turned your head toward him, eyes glowing with warmth, with something unguarded and sincere. The love you carried for him swelled in your chest, gentle but overwhelming.

“Every day,” he said, “I thank Eywa for letting me be in your life.” A small, breathless laugh escaped you. “I thought… I really thought I was the one meant to save you. To take away the demons you carried on your shoulders.”

He shifted, pulling you flushed against his chest, his touch careful as his fingers brushed over the scar hidden beneath the beads and shells of your top.

His voice dropped to a whisper, intimate and certain.

“But I was so wrong,” he chukled. “Because it turns out… you are my savior.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ REQUEST - @coconuthoneyandjaguars

writersrkive

hii! i love your work so much. can i request a fic where a girl (in her avatar) who works for the RDA saves Lo’ak and his siblings in the war. Them like super confused on who this random girl is rescuing them from Quaritch. Then eventually Lo’ak takes a liking to her after she runs away from the RDA. And she likes him back! Sorry if this is confusing

Between soldiers and war | Lo'ak Sully

summary: You, soon to be soldier, realize the RDA is hiding something from you. So your curiosity finally makes you investigate in the middle of an altercation, but curiosity killed the cat. What happens when everything you think is right is actually false? Perhaps in an attempt to do the correct thing, you save the enemy. But it's not that easy, and you are going to understand that when the young Sully brother decides to help you.

pairing: Lo'ak Sully x fem!avatar/human!reader

genre: angst, hurt, comfort, fluff (a little at the end)

warnings: James Cameron/Avatar canon-typical violence, one original side character, brief description of anxiety, internal conflict due to beliefs (non-religious), trauma, Jake being protective over their kids, RDA (lol).

a/n: Hello anon! Thanks for the request! I'm sorry if I added more things (like the x human part, but it's minimum), and also I got carried away and when I finished I realized that because of the date you might have wanted the story to take place in AFAA but I wrote it in ATWOW, I'm sorry it that was the case :(. I hope you enjoy it regardless. Don't forget I have more Avatar stories and everyone can ask to be added to the taglist in the Avatar masterlist! English is not my first language, please be kind <3.

Navigation Avatar masterlist

Water splashed into your artificially blue skin, which only made it harder for you to concentrate. You definitely weren't used to being outside on the alien planet you never asked to be born on. To begin with, it was only the fifth time you had left the interior of the RDA's laboratories —all that grandeur around you was overstimulating—, and although the recoms were training you to be a soldier like them, the reality is that you were insecure.

The only reason why you ended up with them was because of your adoptive older sister: Calavera, a tough girl who worked on Quaritch's crew. She was the only one who cared about the lonely teenager, orphaned by war. You may not have gotten along very well at first, but she made sure that Quaritch's team and the colonel himself trained you to survive, and of course, since nothing was free, also so that in the future you would become one of them. That's why you grew up believing that the na'vi were savages, that Jake Sully was a traitor, and that they deserved to die because humanity came first. Ironic, because they made an avatar for you, a rushed one, and with some… different qualities.

teyums

"like a moth to a flame, burned by the fire,

my love is blind, can't you see my desire?"

. . . welcome to my blog !

ABOUT ME . . ! Hi, my name is Junie and I write for the avatar fandom. This is a sfw/nsfw blog, and my fics that contain 18+ content will be marked accordingly. If you are a minor, please do not interact with the fics that include the ‘mdni/nsfw’ tag. Everything else, feel free. 🫶🏽

❥ rules ❥ masterlist ❥ things to know

recent works . . !

❥ lo’ak is a pleaser

❥ Housecat!Neteyam - part one | part two

❥ NSFW Neteyam Headcanons

requests: closed

angiediangeli

Headcanons ⊰

Lo'ak x Omatikaya!fem! Reader (2k words)

How would Lo'ak Sully act If you were his mate? If you were the one he's completely in love with?

W; All characters are aged up!!!

𓍯

Lo’ak’s nature

Lo’ak has always been impulsive.

He moves before thinking, speaks before measuring his words, and lets emotion guide his actions even when logic would have saved him the trouble. It’s something Jake scolds him for constantly, something Neteyam learned to manage and he never quite did.

With you, though, that impulsiveness disappears. He doesn’t rush toward you the way he does with everything else. Instead, he watches.

Where is lo’ak writers here??

I meed his fic please ✨😭🤏

bananabaread-deactivated2026050

Hellowww!

Is it okay if i request loak sully x mate! reader.

Based on afaa, maybe loak got hit hard by the mangkwan after spider can breath pandora’s air. The reader is worried from the impact after that + loak is very overprotective in war that the reader should not be fighting. She has to be inside the cave with tuk

Hii! i wrote something similar to this here but kinda the opposite and reader gets hurt instead of Lo'ak, but I'd love to write this version too! :)) ty for requesting <3

i don't remember exactly how this scene or part of the movie goes but i tried to get it similar (it's probably not at all </3) and i swapped the war part for something in the forest, hope that's okay!

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

You gasp for breath as your head leaves the water, cold air filling your lungs. They sting slightly from desperation. Grasping at flora to drag you both out, you pull Spider onto the riverbank. He coughs up a healthy amount of water, clinging onto you as his breaths mimic your own no longer needing his mask. Lo'ak, Kiri, and Tuk are not far behind you both. "I think we lost them." Lo'ak pants, helping Tuk out of the water from under her arms.

"I'm tired, I want to go home." Her small voice whines, and Kiri places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I know Tuk, we're on our way. Not far now." But you all know her words aren't completely truth, only Eywa knows how far you are from Awa'atlu and their parents.

"Rest here for a moment." The tired tone shifts your attention to Lo'ak as he takes place against a large rock. His hand carefully presses around the crown of his head, right where one of those ash na'vi had hit him.

"Is your head okay?"

em1i2a3

House Tour

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a few months of dating, you finally ask Bob if he wants to come inside and stay the night

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, Hints of Angst, Mentions of Readers past relationships (briefly), Reader and Bob are in an established relationship, Bob is a sweetie (and that's a warning in and of itself lol)

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up folks), Oral Sex (female receiving), Fingering, Breast/Nipple Play, Licking, Biting, Handjob, Sensual Touching (in public), Aftercare

Author’s Note: AHHH it’s happened. I hope this meets expectations! I really tried here to make this fic fit well with this song, and I hope I did it justice!

Word Count: 11,433

Bob Floyd was a gentleman through and through, the kind of man whose quiet decency showed through like a steady beacon in a world that often felt stormy and unpredictable. It was the very first quality that captivated you on your inaugural date with him, etching itself into your memory with the vividness of a cherished photograph.

mawexe

LET IT BURN .ᐟ

𑣲 LO’AK S. ࿔

꒰𐔌 sum.: you’re everything Lo’ak yearned for. Kind. Caring. And utterly his. He’s everything you’ve looked for. Naïve. Trusting. A pawn

꒰𐔌 warnings: MANGKWAN!READER, language, death, violence, angst, aged up Lo’ak, smut, mating/bonding, multiple orgasms, oral (M&F). mdni

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