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jamaisjoons · 2 years

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happy hentaiween | m.

Fear is a powerful aphrodisiac, and October is the season of fear. The dark season. The season of desire.

In October, we toy with the semantics of the monster waiting under our bed to claim us. What does it want with us? Will it be delicious? Will we be delicious in the back of its mouth. In October, we consider the curiosity of the alien, and his probing, searching eyes. When he takes us, will will bind ourselves to him, giving life, and liver and womb without question or hesitation? In October, sympathy for the devil and his demons comes easily and as sweetly as a candy apple to the tongue. Does sin have any room to germinate where there is no light? October makes room for spellbinding, for magic, for complete surrender to the monster living deep within the forest. How easily we will spread ourselves, give over to the limits of our bodies just to ache and hunger with wildfire in our blood.

Welcome to A Hentai Halloween! A collaborative event between a set of truly wonderful authors in celebration of all weebs, monster fuckers, and tentacle lovers hosted by yours truly!

notice: all fics contain smut. minors dni.

⟶ AO3 Masterlist

⁂ binding vow

⤑ pairing: king of curses!namjoon x jujutsu sorcerer!reader ⤑ genre: smut ⤑ tropes: dark fantasy. reincarnation. jujutsu kaisen au.

❝ During the Heian Era, long before he was known as the King of Curses, you were Namjoon's lover, only to be parted by death at the hands of a Curse. Now, it's the modern era, and you, a Jujutsu Sorcerer, have been captured by Curses in an offering to the very King you had once loved. ❞

⏤ Category: Hentai ; As Animated by @jamaisjoons

➵ Coming Soon

⁂ tormented

⤑ pairing: researcher!seokjin x monstress!reader ⤑ genre: smut ⤑ tropes: supernatural. native folklore. e2l.

❝ Seokjin has a terrifying memory from his younger days that has easily shaped him into the man he’s become, and fuelled his desire for all accomplishments thus far. Watching your mother be eaten alive by a monster tends to have a lasting, psychological effect like that. Now a full-time Folklorist, with a PhD in Mythology, Masters in Cultural Anthropology, and a time consuming side-hobby as a Supernatural Investigator, his research has led him into the wilderness surrounding the Black Water Lakes, where he’s determined this monster resides in its hidden habitat. Determined to reveal new discoveries to the world, to prove his insanity is anything but, Jin finds himself hot on the trail of something that haunts his inner child, and yet ignites an unusual fire deep inside him. ❞

⏤ Category: Monster Girls ; As Animated by @kookdiaries

➵ Coming Soon

⁂ can’t deny your appetite

⤑ pairing: dream whisperer!yoongi x dream walker!reader ⤑ genre: smut ⤑ tropes: supernatural. e2l. sleep paralysis demon.

❝ In the entirety of your existence as a Dream Walker, traveling through people's dreams and feeding on their subconscious fears, you had only heard tales about the Dream Whisperer – a creature that granted humans erotic dreams, taking them away from the fear that you survived on – and had never actually encountered him. But tonight, when the said monster physically appears between you and your food, you might end up feeding on more than you were prepared for. ❞

⏤ Category: Demons ; As Animated by @jimilter

➵ Coming Soon

⁂ brood mare

⤑ pairing: alien!hoseok x human!Reader ⤑ genre: smut ⤑ tropes: sci fi. alien abduction. alien experimentation.

❝ The ship arrived three days after your birthday, an eerie blot in the sky that grew larger and larger until it sought to outshine the sun. It is the lack of change beyond this that had you, and everyone else around the globe, unsettled but after months of its looming presence you are starting to feel curious about it. You are even comforted by it. Still, there is no change. Except, sometimes in the morning you feel as though you have lost something. And, sometimes in the evening, you feel as though you are waiting for something. And, most times, you are certain there is something standing in the shadows, watching and waiting and departing the moment you try to focus on it. Perhaps there is change: a change in you. A change in the way you want it. And a change in the way you want it to want you back. ❞

⏤ Category: Aliens ; As Animated by @yeoldontknow

➵ Coming Soon

⁂ beware the jabbercock

⤑ pairing: jabberwocky shifter!jimin x ace of hearts!reader ⤑ genre: smut ⤑ tropes: shifters. royalty. alice in wonderland au.

❝ As the Ace of Hearts, you are next in line for the throne after your cousin the Queen of Hearts. Her consort Jack however wants you out of the picture and banishes you to the Wonderland wilderness where the terrifying Jabberwocky lives, a horrifying creature responsible for a slew of card deck townspeople deaths.

Within the mysterious depths of the Wonderland forest you find the Jabberwocky, and as you fall under his spell you realise how he was so easily able to capture and defeat so many of your people. ❞

⏤ Category: Hybrids/Shifters ; As Animated by @opaljm

➵ Coming Soon

⁂ lurking in the dark

⤑ pairing: bogeyman!taehyung x curvy!reader ⤑ genre: smut ⤑ tropes: monsters. s2l. pwp.

❝ Don’t look! It’s best to stay tucked under your covers. Folktales warn against acknowledging him. It only strengthens his power. Yet, he is all you want to think about. ❞

⏤ Category: Monster ; As Animated by @inkedtae

➵ Coming Soon

⁂ fresh out of hell

⤑ pairing: demon monster!jungkook x med student!reader ⤑ genre: angst ∴ smut ⤑ tropes: forbidden love. horror. death race au.

❝ Jungkook was sentenced to life for a crime he didn’t commit. When the opportunity to earn his freedom again presented itself, he went for it. However, just like the victory, his life was snatched by the vile humans that put him in that awful place to begin with.

After rising from the grave, Jungkook has one mission. Take what’s rightfully his along with what his worst enemy loves the most. Although, the latter might be easier to grab than the former. ❞

⏤ Category: Demons ; As Animated by @sugakookitty

➵ Coming Soon

The shadows grow long in October, a bottomless black that swallows everything it touches. Trepidation comes easily, lurks behind every corner, watching and waiting, a feeling you cannot shake. And lust has never been shaken from the binds of our bones, it lurks, it watches it waits. What was once a friendly, well-lit street becomes an endless expanse of bleak possibility. What was once a friendly fable becomes a warning, a promise, an ode to regret and an ode to an unexpected metamorphosis. Desire transmutes the street corner your old neighbour once occupied, full now with difference, with longing, with a yearning close to obsession the moment a charming, new face stands at its threshold. The air tastes different in October, ripe with unexplained cravings.

We were taught never to speak about the dark desires that remain unsatisfied when the sun is out. But in October, when the moon is high, and the darkness is alive, we've decided to tell you everything we've ever wanted.

And none of us will be the same when we are done.

2K notes · View notes

loaksky · 1 year

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— 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘸𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦

the lowdown — the one where you and lo'ak are words apart, but not a thing can come between you.

the who — lo'ak x fem human!reader

the word count — 5.2k (could i even still call this a drabble i–)

the tags & warnings — perhaps some language, slight idiots-to-lovers (the signs are there and lo'ak is a dummy), reader is really sweet and just loves life hehe, arguably too much tension lmaooo

the notes — based off of this request! read more notes at the end!

masterlist

Something in the forest smells…off.

Against better judgment, Lo’ak tails it, ears twitching as he creeps through overgrown leaves and rustling foliage. His hand is on the hilt of his knife, eyes keen as he searches high and low for any shift or change in the terse atmosphere.

He’d wandered off, a little too far from where his father warned him the boundary lied, but there was a scent that clung to the trees, that slunk around his willowy figure and it belonged to no creature in the forests of Pandora.

It’s quiet, almost eerily so, the only sounds in the dense habitat is the pad of his feet against the grass and the chirping and croaking of the animals hidden among the trunks of trees and stems of flowers.

It’s like they’re watching, waiting, and Lo’ak’s heart begins to thud nervously in his chest as the scent strengthens like a haze.

I could turn back now, he reasons with himself. Because whatever lies ahead could be his very demise. It’d be a horrid way to go, alone and in the thickening brush.

But then he hears it. A voice so delicate and lilting, and like a sailor hooked by a siren’s call, he follows it, deeper and deeper. The trees begin to twine closer to each other, roots sprawling and the pathway overgrown.

Pandora is beginning to glow, the only indication that eclipse is drawing near now that the canopy of leaves overhead knit so close together, the sun can’t cut through to the ground.

It’s singing, he realizes. The voice is, but he can’t make out the words, a slurry of syllables and smooth melody that makes his eyebrows dip.

As he draws nearer, the voice becomes clearer and he’s stricken when the words he makes out aren’t in Na’vi. Like a predator hunting prey, Lo’ak crouches and moves the brush to the side to peer into the clearing, breath catching in his throat when he finds you, a peculiar little thing who sings as you hunch over something in your lap.

You’re angled away from him, but the sleeveless shirt you’re wearing shows earthy skin, so far removed from the blue Lo’ak’s been accustomed to seeing. The curls of your hair are unruly, piled high as neatly as you can to keep it out of your face.

His eyes are wide, finding a human so far from the camp established near his home. There’s something about how relaxed you are, your grace as you fiddle and hum like there aren’t dozens of predators on the prowl who could pounce at any moment, Lo’ak included. You can’t be with the enemy, it’s impossible, you’re too unaware and too soft.

And he can’t peel his eyes away, fingers wrapped around the handle of his dagger loosening as he watches you with bated breath.

After another moment of fiddling, you cheer quietly, triumphantly, as you hold up what you’d been tinkering with.

Lo’ak’s only seen one once before, one of those little film cameras that develop instantly. You point it towards a patch of grass and a split second of flash goes off before the mechanical whirring of the film feeding from the camera echos through the clearing.

It’s only when he moves forward for a better look that his rustling catches your attention. Your head snaps up, towards his direction and you’re brushing the strands of stubborn hair behind your ears as your eyes, big and round, survey the area.

“Hello?”

Lo’ak’s gaze flits over every curve of your face, eyes dipping to take in the swell of your cheeks, the expanse of your neck and the shoddy beadwork fastened around your throat.

He sizes you up as you stand to your feet, ratty gingham of your yellowed skirt swishing around your ankles.

“Hello?” you try again, hand coming up to a holster slung across your chest.

You unsheathe a knife so tiny, Lo’ak can’t help but snort out a laugh and your steps stutter when you make out the familiar blue whorls behind the flora.

Lo’ak’s severely underestimated his hiding spot, spine going rigid when he notices the way your eyes grow as big as saucers. He’s been found out and your jaw nearly unhinges.

“Whoa,” you whisper, sheathing the knife as you take a tentative step towards Lo’ak’s post.

He’s sure you can hear the way his heart thuds against the cage of his chest, know that he’s caught like a hideous game of cat and mouse.

Your movements are slow, calculated, as if anything sudden will spook Lo’ak away. But he’s rooted to his spot, eyes unblinking as he watches you close in on him. He waits, almost with anticipation as your fingers close around the leaf, a hairsbreadth from his nose, and move it out of the way to get a good look at his face.

For what seems like melding moments, you both are still, eyes searching and bodies frozen.

“Hi,” you squeak, throat bobbing.

Lo’ak is huge, shoulders broad and legs long as he squats before you. His lean muscles flex as he shifts in his spot, eyebrows furrowing a fraction as he takes you in before him.

You’ve got a flower stem tucked behind your other ear and he notes that your cheeks are red. But what’s more peculiar is the fact that you have no oxygen mask, seemingly breathing the dense air with ease.

“Hi,” he warbles, voice catching as you take another step forward.

One of your hands is outstretched, like you’re reaching to touch him, but like a flash of lightning in the sky, his fist closes around your wrist to stop you, jostling you with narrowed eyes. The other hand has pulled his dagger from his hip and the tip, razor sharp, is aimed towards your trachea.

“Sorry,” you breathe, swallowing down the knot in your throat. “I’ve never…”

You’re breathless, absolutely in awe at the boy who crouches before you.

You’d spent the latter half of your existence on Pandora watching the Na’vi from afar, opting instead to center your time and attention to the sprawling habitat of the forest. For years you documented the change in weather, the flora, the fauna. More seldom, you’d jot down the brief observations of the Na’vi you encountered, three instances you can count on your fingers.

You’d been enraptured with the moon, your home away from home. But as the memories of the dingy planet, decaying and falling to the greed of humans, continue to dull, all you seem to recall is the lush jungle.

“Who are you?” Lo’ak’s tone is accusatory. “What are you doing here?”

You’re stunned, his voice seemingly rumbling from deep within his chest. You wonder if his English is from a language school, but others from the small commune said that the last institution closed decades ago after an attack.

“________,” you introduce quietly, shakily, as the weapon pointed towards your throat doesn’t relent. “My name is ________.”

“Are you with the RDA?”

He has to be sure, watches every inch of your face for a tell.

Instead you look horrified at the idea.

“God no,” you shudder. “I would never.”

He lowers his knife, but doesn’t lose his edge.

“You can breathe without a mask,” he observes. “How?”

You’re still tense, frozen as you watch Lo’ak rise to his feet to tower over you. You barely reach his diaphragm and a ripple of fear slinks down your spine knowing that Lo’ak could crush you with no hesitation.

“Lab rat,” you admit, almost shamefully.

Before Lo’ak even knows what you’re doing, you’re lifting up the hem of your shirt to reveal a raised scar that travels across your abdomen, from bottom rib to bottom rib. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be looking at, just stares down at you as your pointer finger brushes over the fused flesh.

“The atmosphere in Pandora has enough oxygen for the average human to survive, but that survival factor is squashed by the amount of carbon dioxide in the air,” you say simply, like you’re reciting a fact. “Na’vi have an extra organ that acts as a filter to—”

You stop talking when Lo’ak blinks at you and you feel sheepish over your word vomit.

“Well…” you divert.

“Well what?”

“What about you?” you ask, scratching the back of your head.

“What about me?” Lo’ak asks uncomfortably, eyes flitting as he takes in the way you seem to light up.

You are so starkly out of place, but something in the way the forest melts around you makes him feel like this is where you belong.

“What is your name?” you ask, tilting your head.

He hesitates for a moment, but you look hopeful, excited.

He takes a step back, still wary despite dwarfing you.

“Lo’ak,” he answers skeptically.

You test the name on your lips, beaming up at him when he nods. When you advance upon him again, he doesn’t retreat, just reluctantly lets you circle his towering figure with wide eyes.

“You’re the first Na’vi I’ve seen up close,” you admit softly.

There’s adoration in your voice that makes Lo’ak shiver.

“You’re in the middle of nowhere,” he observes. “We don’t venture out this far.”

“Except for you,” you amend with a hum.

He’s used to being the exception, the sore thumb. His father always reminds him as such whenever he steps out of line, but coming from you, something in the way you acknowledge makes him feel like you can see right through him.

“Yeah, I guess,” he agrees.

Your hand reaches out to him, but you pause, finding his gaze unrelenting. He watches your every move.

“Can I touch you?” you ask gently.

“I mean…sure? I guess?” he forces out, throat suddenly hoarse.

Your palm presses into the smooth expanse of his abdomen and his stomach caves with a deep breath at the feeling of your fingertips brushing against his skin.

You grab his hands, turning them so that they’re palms up, and if possible, your eyes are comically larger than life when you count his five fingers.

“You have–”

He snatches his hand away from you, expression souring as he tucks them behind his back.

“I get it,” he gruffs. “It’s weird—”

You hold your hand out to him, so much smaller in comparison to his and offer him a weak smile.

“No,” you assure him softly. “It’s okay.”

He’s opening his mouth to say something, but the comm crackles to life in his ear and his father’s voice is grainy.

“Lo’ak, do you copy?”

He takes in a deep breath, pressing the button to speak into the air.

“Yes.”

“It’s getting dark,” is his father’s way of apologizing. “Be home soon.”

“Yes, sir.”

Your eyes are still pinned to him as he straightens, taking another step back from you the survey the scene before him.

“Where are you…” your voice trails off as you watch him retreat.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” he warns you.

“But—”

“I’ll kill you.”

You don’t even flinch, climbing over the same branches and ducking over the same vines he does so with ease as he makes for the same path he’d taken there.

“Wait, Lo’ak!” you call out as he picks up the pace, unable to keep up with his hulking strides. “Will I see you again?”

He throws you a look over his shoulder, like you shouldn’t be so noisy, and you shrink, watching his form diminish in the glowing forest.

You count almost nine eclipses without Lo’ak, something heavy like river stones anchored to the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t been able to sleep much since your encounter with him, so fascinated with the glow of his eyes, the stripes of his skin, his extra finger.

He was all you could sketch in your journal, all you could write about, think about. After years and years of quiet, distant observation, of hearsay from the villagers, you’d finally seen a Na’vi, up close and personal, and you were aching to see him again.

You don’t know if Eywa had heard you, if she pitied your poor soul, but on the tenth morning, you sit in the same clearing when you hear rustling in the brush. It comes from the same little patch it had last time you were here alone, and when your gaze flits to the swaying foliage, you yelp when you find that Lo’ak hadn’t even tried to hide this time.

The smile that spreads across your face is sunny, blinding, as you climb to your feet and close the distance between the two of you.

“You’re back,” you observe happily, peering at him from head to toe, then you giggle. “I can’t believe you’re back.”

You’re looking at him like you’re looking for anything out of place since you’d last seen him and it makes him incredibly warm under such a brilliant gaze. When the pads of your fingers glide from his wrist to forearm, like you can’t believe he’s really standing right in front of you again, his tail involuntarily swishes.

“I thought you said Na’vi don’t really come out this far,” you tell him, taking a step away from him.

He finally breathes the air he’d been holding in his lungs.

“We don’t,” he agrees. “Except for me.”

Your grin widens, if possible, at the subtle implication that maybe he’d been thinking about meeting you as much as you thought about meeting him.

“Well…” you trail off, turning on your heel so that he doesn’t see the hope in your expression. “Is there a reason why you returned? Last time we saw each other you told me you’d kill me if I said anything.”

“Have you?” he retorts, unmoving from his spot.

“Never,” you say quietly. “Wanna keep you to myself.”

The words stun Lo’ak, make something twist in his stomach as you turn back around to face him.

“Where’s your family?” he pries, the courage the ask you all the questions that had culminated over the past week finally teeming at the brim.

“Don’t have much left,” you answer honestly, openly. “A lot of them didn’t survive the journey here. I only have my sister and my mother.”

Something akin to sympathy squeezes in his chest as he watches the way you fidget.

“And your village,” he presses. “Who all is there?”

“My own and four other families,” you reveal. “It’s not much, but we don’t really need a lot when we have such a vast forest to survive off of.”

He doesn’t know what to do with the information, still in awe that humans so far removed from the RDA and the scientists he’d grown up knowing take up residence in the very jungle he thought he knew like the back of his hand.

“Can they breathe like you?” he asks bluntly.

You blow out a small laugh, seemingly finding the interrogation amusing rather than intimidating if the way that you walk away from Lo’ak is anything to go by.

“No,” you tell him, returning to your station in the middle of the clearing.

You’ve got a blanket spread neatly on the grass, stacks of books and a rucksack pinning each corner down to keep the fabric semi-taut. You’d been reading through a book about the herbs on Pandora, the page still flipped to a beautiful bundle of petals and stems that resemble Earth’s baby’s breath.

You don’t realize that Lo’ak has followed you, standing half a meter away from your setting to observe your belongings, so tiny in comparison to the things back at camp. He pauses, weary like he’s crossing a threshold, but you lean forward, fingers grabbing his own to yank him gently.

He’s toppling onto the woven blanket, shifting comfortably like a baby touching grass for the first time when he feels the odd texture against his skin.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you admit to him, leaning back on your haunches as you shamelessly stare at him with that soft smile on your face.

“I was debating,” he whispers under his breath, eyes still wandering.

“You didn’t hurt me,” you remark simply, hands folded in your lap. “The first time around.”

“I could say the same for you,” he responds, gaze finally settling on your own.

You breathe another laugh, taking his hand in yours to compare the difference.

“Don’t think I could’ve even I tried,” you breathe, and something eases in Lo’ak at your acknowledgment that he has the upper hand.

But he doesn’t think he could hurt you. He wouldn’t. Not when you’re so soft and curious, and especially not when you insinuate that you’ve been waiting for him patiently.

“What do you do here, ________?” he asks you, genuine interest as he folds one long leg under the other to settled before you.

You shrug.

“Research, read, live,” you answer. “We left Earth with no real agenda. Just wanted to live a better life.”

Lo’ak skims your features.

“You like to swim?” he asks you, and you perk up.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Love it.”

“Good,” he says. “I know a place.”

The two of you become like polar opposites of a magnetic field, so drawn to the other, not a single thing could drive a wedge between the two of you.

Lo’ak can’t help it, not when you talk a million miles a minute about your love for life, for Pandora. Not when you first break the barrier and sit in his lap with a book, reading him your favorite children’s stories or blurbs that accompany the research materials you’d crafted from years of exploring the moon.

And he can’t just chalk it up to being able to see his home from your perspective, but being able to see the wonder that oozes from you when you see it from his. How in awe you are when he carries you on his back to climb the looming trees, seeing above the canopy of leaves for the first time since you touched down on the lush terrain. Or when you run your fingers over the spines of fish during your swims in the nearby streams, when you coo at the cubs of creatures that would otherwise devour you whole.

It doesn’t help that you take your life by the reigns, seemingly invincible after you divulge the entire story behind your scar. To know that they’d experimented on you, grown artificial organs, used you as a trial and then left you for dead after a seemingly failed test run. You live your life to the fullest, find no fear, but still tread with compassion.

You beguile Lo’ak, have him wrapped around your finger as the two of you teeter over a very fine line.

And your village sees it. No one has to utter a word to know that something, someone, has been occupying your attention these last few weeks. Humans are few and far in between, so they turn the other cheek, waiting until you feel comfortable enough to tell them that a certain native has captured your heart.

Lo’ak, on the other hand, toes his friendship with you with great caution. He slips through the cracks undetected, crossing the forest to see you when he can. He keeps it hush, locked tight like a vault, but his family knows better. Knows that if he’s not audacious in the way he’s causing trouble, he’s still stirring it up somehow.

Neteyam pounces first.

“Where are you going?” he asks, fingers tight around his younger brother’s shoulders.

“Out,” Lo’ak answers simply.

“Out?” Neteyam mocks, expression flat like he doesn’t believe him.

“Yes, out,” he reiterates, pulling his shoulder from his grasp. “I’ll be back.”

He’s paranoid on the way to you, taking a few detours in the case that his brother, the ever diligent and doting eldest, is tailing him. It weighs heavy on his mind even when he finally makes it to your corner of the jungle unfound.

“Does your village still not know about me?” he asks suddenly, one of the first words he’d uttered since settling behind you, large hands braiding your hair gently as you read quietly to yourself.

You look up from your book, spine straightening.

“No,” you answer honestly. “You told me not to and I honor your wishes.”

He’s silent for a moment before asking another question.

“How would they react?” he asks, starting another braid in hopes to quell the tremor in his fingers. “If they knew about me? About, you know…”

“I think they’d love you,” you say honestly. “Especially if they know you like I do.”

He’s putty in your hands and you don’t even know it. It makes his heart ache and stomach tie because he’s not so sure he could say the same. If his family, or his village, would welcome you with open arms like you say yours would.

“Why?” you ask, turning to face him.

He simply shrugs, doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s brimming with feeling. That the weeks, months he’s spent intermittently spending time with you makes him feel the most alive he has in years. And he especially doesn’t know how to tell you that even if he’s scared shitless, a part of him wants to try, wants to be with you if you’ll have him.

But he doesn’t know what your life is like back at your camp, doesn’t know if you have someone waiting for you. And what would his siblings think? His parents, if he told them he was falling for a—

“Would you like to?” you ask him, hand coming up to touch his face. “To meet them?”

“I mean…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck. “Could be nice to, you know, see where you—”

You’re staring at him so intently, he stops mid-sentence.

“But I couldn’t return the favor,” he says suddenly, biting the inside of his cheek as he watches the way your expression screws up in confusion.

“What do you mean?” you ask, taking his fidgeting fingers in yours.

“I wouldn’t be able to take you to meet my village,” he says in one breath. “It’s too risky. They’re not really fond of humans and—”

You squeeze his hands, a sad smile gracing your lips that makes his heart wrench.

“I wouldn’t ask that of you, Lo’ak,” you tell him. “I know what the dynamics are like, and rightfully so. Humans have taken a lot from you, from the people. It would be disrespectful to expect them to welcome me.”

He nearly melts, doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve someone like you in his life.

“You’re too good,” he whispers.

“When you’re ready,” you say softly. “If you’re ready, just tell me.”

Neither of you bring up his clan or your village again after that, just enjoy the moments that you spend with each other in the glittering jungle.

“Smile!” you coo, film camera held in both hands as you nestle back against his chest and aim the lens towards your huddled figures.

The motors whir and while you wait for the photograph to develop, you’re turning to face him. Your cheeks warm when you find that he’s already staring down at you, golden eyes soft and lips slightly parted.

“Have you ever listened to the radio?” you ask him, pinching the photo between your fingers to fan it through the air.

“Radio?” he parrots, pulling himself from his reverie.

“Yeah, it plays music,” you tell him. “Sometimes it broadcasts the news, but obviously we don’t get signal here.”

“News?” Lo’ak’s expression is pinched in confusion as you pull away from him and your laugh flutters through the air.

Your skirt pools around your figure when you crouch to rummage through your bag, items clinking and clunking together as you search for the battery-operated music player you smuggled from your friend’s family in the village.

“Here!” you call excitedly, pulling the red and blue player from where it's buried under one of your dozens of leaflets and rolls of film.

You pop the back open to make sure the batteries are still intact, the radiant grin spread across your full lips widening when you fiddle with the buttons and it creaks to life.

The tinny sound of Phil Collins starts playing from the weak little speaker, but you set it on top of a fallen tree trunk and take Lo’ak’s hands in yours.

“Let’s dance,” you giggle, moving in time to the beat of his drums.

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak calls, embarrassed. “I don’t really…”

“Oh, come on,” you prod, arms gliding through the air as your skirt twirls around you in tandem with the rhythm.

Lo’ak is mesmerized, swallowing down the knot in his throat as you dance like it’s the only thing you’ve ever done. Your movements are fluid, amateur, but makes his heart thrum violently nonetheless.

You sing along with the words, voice smooth and lilting as your feet pad against the grass.

The scene before him is picturesque against the eclipsing sun, your skin warm and dewy under the growing glow of the forest’s glimmer. He itches to capture this moment, freeze it in the frame of a photograph for his eyes only. So when your face arches skyward and you continue singing along with the quiet music, Lo’ak picks up your camera and snaps a clumsy picture.

“Hey!” you burst out laughing, rushing towards him just as the photo begins feeding out of the camera.

“What?” he whispers innocently, jerking the photo from your grasp when you try to reach for it.

“Stop,” you whine. “What if I look stupid?”

“You could never,” he hums, tucking the photograph in his woven satchel.

He knows there no going back from this, going back from you. The night you watch the stars seals his fate.

“There she is,” you croon triumphantly, pointing to the glowing orb.

You and Lo’ak are nestled high above in one of the tree branches. You’re bundled against him, your back to his chest with the warmth of his skin cocooning you as you both watch the slowly shifting sky.

“My dad came from a star,” he says after a pregnant pause, one that makes you lean your head back against his shoulder and play with the fingers splayed across your stomach.

“Really?” you whisper, watching as something flits across the midnight sky.

“Yeah,” he chuffs, other hand pointing eastward. “That one, right there.”

You squint, eyes straining as you try to make out the twinkling blurb.

“What’s he like?” you ask, knuckling the fatigue from your eyes.

“Who?” Lo’ak hums. “My dad?”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “He must be pretty great if he raised someone like you.”

Lo’ak’s at a loss for words, can't admit that while he thinks his dad’s incredible, that all he wants in life is to be like him, he’s not sure if his father feels quite the same. If the disappointment in his gaze and the stone in his voice is anything to go by every time Lo’ak fucks up and gets lectured, he could argue that his father’s efforts to rear a good man have gone in vain.

“Something like that,” he opts to say, cheek nuzzling against yours as you shift further into his hold.

“And your sisters?” you prod, pinkie linking with his.

He’s silent for a moment before a small smile stretches across his lips.

“I think they’d like you,” he says sincerely. “You remind me of both of them, actually, so I think that if you were to ever meet them, they’d love you.”

Like I do, he wants to add.

You hum in response and he can tell you’re getting tired with the way you’ve fallen slack and completely relaxed against him.

“And…your mom?” Your words are coming out slowly, like you’re fighting against sleep and losing.

“She’s amazing,” he says softly. “She’s sacrificed a lot and–”

A long, steady puff of air blows from your nose and Lo’ak shifts a little to see that your eyes have fluttered closed and you’ve pulled the shawl you’d brought with you tighter around your shoulders.

Lo’ak’s always felt that lingering feeling that you could feel it, too. You had to. You wouldn’t wait for him before every eclipse, let him hold you, let him treat you like he loves you if you didn’t.

He gets his answer on a random afternoon in your clearing.

You had bound a thin journal, scrawled your names on it, and now you were in the middle of pasting a picture of you and Lo’ak in the stream to the section you titled Adventures.

“Have you ever been in love?” Lo’ak asks crassly, then clears this throat, backtracking a little to save face. “Like on Earth…or…”

“I was ten when I left home,” you chuckle, flipping to a fresh page.

You start setting leaves and petals against the paper, arranging photographs of you and Lo’ak on various excursions.

Lo’ak swallows.

“So never?” he asks.

You pause your crafting to lean back on your haunches, peering at him through your lashes with the glue brush still in your hand.

“Why?” you deflect.

He fiddles with one of the flowers on the page, shrugging his shoulders.

“Just curious,” he murmurs.

“No,” you answer honestly, after a moment. “I haven’t.”

He nods.

“Do you think you will?” he prods, busying himself with thumbing through the dozens of pictures the two of you have amassed through your time together.

You watch him closely, see the way his ears are flat and his tail thumps quietly against the forest floor. You can’t help but smile when he glances over the top of one of the photos to peek at you.

“It’s very possible,” you respond coyly, picking at a piece of lint on your skirt.

Lo’ak goes rigid, dropping the photos in his lap to look at you. He opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

“There is someone,” you say seriously, willing the grin creeping at the corner of your lips to relax as you search Lo’ak’s expression for any fissures. “Someone who’s become quite special to me.”

Lo’ak wants to roll his eyes, but you light up and he can’t find it in himself to be ugly.

“All he has to do is say the words,” you whisper, closing the contents of the journal in on itself as you ease closer to him.

He’s sitting with his legs folded one into the other, but you’re eye level as you stand on your knees. One of your hands move a braid behind his ear, settling on his shoulder as the other traces his cheek softly.

Something like hope sizzles in his stomach when he sees how close you are, when he smells the sweet aroma of fruit and herbs in your hair as you inch forward.

“Do you think he will?” he swallows, breath warm against your lips.

Your nose brushes his, waiting for the final plunge.

“I don’t know, Lo’ak, will you?”

A smile grows from ear to ear as Lo’ak leans forward, lips slotting against yours as he seals every last bit of emotion and affection that pools in his gut into a kiss that takes his breath away.

His hands settle on your waist, thumb brushing your scar as you climb into his lap and he pulls you closer.

He doesn’t see the woodsprite that settles on your shoulder as he kisses you feverishly, a silent sign from the Great Mother that being worlds apart will never transcend what the two of you have.

Differences be damned.

an; okay WHEW this one was actually such a challenge! i grappled with wanting to include angst, but i feel like a lot of my writing veers in that direction, so i decided to gift you guys with lo’ak and reader who are in love despite the odds hehehe. although i consider this a long drabble, i do have a lot of cut scenes that i’d be willing to share to turn this into a mini drabble series *side eye* lmaooo. love you all <3

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#lo'ak x reader #lo'ak avatar #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak fanfiction #lo'ak fic #lo'ak fluff #lo'ak sully #avatar #avatar way of water #avatar the movie #avatar the way of water #atwow #avatar 2

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