#he is so underrated istg | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

d0llcuries · 2 months ago

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HELLOOO!!!!💓 could you do roxto x navi!reader maybe something going around the clan involving roxto and kirk since yk people on tiktok claims he has feelings for her so rumors going around that people have seen the two flirting and obviously that upsets reader so she takes a step back from the two of them and even goes as far as to take back all the jewelry she’s made roxto ( I love my underrated roxto king )🩵🩵🩵

JEALOUS, JEALOUS, JEALOUS GIRL

pairing(s): roxto x fem!na'vi! reader

summary: you never thought roxto to be an ignorant person. and he isn't! maybe just a little oblivious..

author's note: this week was not it istg!! too many things are happening sll at once and i just lost my motivation in the middle lf writing this (i really hope you can't tell). this anon was sooo creative and unless there was another character named kirk i wasn't aware of i probably messed up the plot.. 🧍 anywaysss ending super rushed because HEADACHE.

you’ve always been the girl made of too much light. there’s a warmth about you, fiery and stubborn. all dark curls and bearing grins. you are sharp like the edge of the sea rocks, but warm, bright, like the first light that filters through the waves at dawn. the sun clings to your skin, kissed deep by the sea, gleaming in the dips of your collarbones, the arch of your shoulders.

nothing about you is quiet—your presence is a flare. you move through the village like you belong to it, like the ocean itself curls at your feet, eager to keep up. everyone knows you, yn! they call, always a voice trailing after, always someone drawn to the light you carry.

you do not love quietly, either, you never have. you pour yourself into everything, your love spilling over, careless, until it floods the spaces around you. you can’t stand the idea of holding back, of loving anyone halfway. so you give, and give, until the lines blur, until the difference between your heart and your hands no longer exists. there’s no steady middle, no balance, just the push and pull of everything or nothing at all.

it shows in the way your hands move—always creating, always giving. you weave your feelings into the world around you, shells and beads tangled in thin cords, bracelets wrapped tight around wrists like you’re holding on to the people you care for. it’s how you’ve always shown love, letting your hands speak when your heart feels too full for words. you work with the kind of care that can only come from someone who feels too much, someone who pours themselves into every task, every knot, every woven strand, as if by creating, you are giving a part of yourself to the world.

ao’nung teases you for it, says you’d gift a stranger your last shell if they looked at you the right way. but he doesn’t understand. he’s always been loud, brash, speaking only to fill the space around him. tsireya, though—she understands. she’s like the tide, steady and constant, anchoring you when your love feels too big. her kindness seems to shine brighter when she’s by your side.

you’ve always felt sure around them, always steady, like you belong. like the ocean itself, you’ve never had to question where you fit into their lives, never wondered if your place was secure. roxto, especially.

for roxto, you make more jewellery than anyone else. ao’nung complains about it sometimes, calling roxto your favorite, but you’ve never corrected him. maybe because it feels true in a way you can’t explain, not even to yourself.

you felt intertwined with him, sewn together, like you were carved from the same bone, shaped by the same hands. you are the same—same thoughts, same instincts. people spend their lives searching for that kind of connection, but you never had to. the only thing keeping you apart is the stretch of time between you, the space of a single sunset.

but what good is that depth if it is just friendship? if it has always been just enough, just close enough, just warm enough, but never more? you wonder, sometimes, if you’ve been fooling yourself all along. settling for scraps of something you never dared to reach for, afraid that grasping it might break the delicate balance between you. so, you stay on your side of the line, trying to find contentment in his friendship only. pretending you do not care about the moments when his gaze lingers on someone else—on her.

the sullys arrived during the crescendo of your denial, with their strange ways and different words, and everything felt just a little bit off. you welcomed them like you do everyone, with wide-open arms ready to share whatever you could with these strangers who carried the sea in their own way, even if it wasn’t your sea. kiri, especially. you liked her right away. she didn’t need to be loud to make her presence known; there was a stillness about her, like deep water, and it drew you in. you didn’t see at first the way roxto’s eyes lingered on her a little longer than usual, the way their conversations seemed to grow more frequent, more intimate. you didn’t mind that roxto spent more time with her and less with you. not at first. you admired her, if anything.

it’s only later, when you’re sitting by the shore, eclipse encasing the shore that the words find you. you’re working, always happy to help, fingers weaving together a net under the guidance of an elder, the conversation around you drifting. you don’t catch the beginning of it, just the soft murmurs that slide into the space between your thoughts. then, you heard just a whisper, tossed carelessly into the air.

“roxto and the sully girl, they have been spending a lot of time together, have they not?”

you freeze, your hands stilling against the rough weave of the net. there’s a beat, a moment where the world seems to narrow down to that one sentence.

“they would make a sweet pair! he is always with her.”

the words are sharp, cutting through the soft lull of the evening, pulling something inside you loose. it was meant to be nothing. just a stray thought, a harmless observation. but the words stuck, winding themselves around your chest, squeezing tight. you tell yourself it’s just idle talk, something for the elders to pass the time in their slow lives with, nothing more. you’ve heard gossip before. you’ve never cared. but this time, the words settle into your skin like saltwater in a cut, stinging in a way that makes you wince. roxto and kiri? it couldn’t be true. he would’ve told you. right? he tells you everything—what he ate, how he caught more fish than ao’nung, how his aim is sharper. why does he talk about ao’nung so much?

he's been your friend since you could swim, since the days when your only concerns were how many shells you could collect before the tide took them back. if there was something between him and kiri, you’d know. you would know.

it was ridiculous, she told herself. roxto was allowed to have other friends. he was allowed to spend time with kiri, to teach her the ways of the sea and laugh with her about things yn did not understand. but still, the ache remained, sharp and relentless, until it became something she could not ignore. she did not know how to explain it to herself, this strange ache in her heart, this tightening in her chest whenever she caught them together. it was ridiculous, she told herself. roxto was allowed to have other friends. he was allowed to spend time with kiri, to teach her the ways of the sea and laugh with her about things yn did not understand. but the feeling remained, sharp and relentless, until it became something she could not ignore.

she tried to distance herself, pulling back ever so slightly, hoping that if she gave them space, the feelings would go away. you start skipping out on lessons, declining evening swims, making excuses when the others invite you to visit the spirit tree. they notice, of course. tsireya asks if you are alright, but she’s used to you being like this sometimes, your emotions spilling over and pulling you under. even kiri watches you now, quiet, curious, like she can sense the shift but isn’t sure why it’s there. but the more she withdrew, the worse it became, her jealousy simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. it was an ugly feeling, one she was not used to.

it’s evening when you see them again, standing together, his head tilted toward her as they speak. your necklace, your work, hangs loosely around his neck. it’s the same necklace you made with your own hands, the shells still gleaming from the water you strung them from, a piece of yourself hanging against his skin. but now, as you watch them from a distance, that warmth you once felt curdles into something ugly, something jealous.

you wonder—no, you know he’d rather wear something of hers. something kiri made with her hands, something that spoke of their growing closeness for all to see. the thought gnaws at you, claws its way inside and twists, filling you with a venom you’ve never known. it sits bitter on your tongue, burning where you used to taste only sweetness. it’s foreign to you, this anger, this rage creeping through your veins. not usual, not like you at all, but it’s there now, coiling tighter with every glance he throws her way, every small smile you catch between them.

you should have let it go, laughed it off the way you used to with roxto, but you cannot. your heart’s too bruised, too tender, and it’s easier to fake acceptance than admit the pain sinking its claws into you. jealousy is an ugly thing. it tastes bitter, and it’s unfamiliar to you—this anger bubbling under your skin, sharp and venomous. and it’s aimed at him. the one person you thought you could never feel this way toward. but it is there, burning hot, and you hate it. you hate that he has made you feel this way, and worse you hate that he does not even know. so you decide to protect yourself. you let the anger harden into something cold, something you can work with.

so you decide, as you watch them together under the setting sun, that if you cannot have him, then maybe it is better to take back what you can. to preserve what little pride you have left. fine, you think. if he wants to drift away, then let him. you will take back what is yours before it is too late. you will pretend to support it, whatever is going on between him and kiri, and maybe in that faking, you can make him feel some of the hurt he has made you carry.

you go to him that night, basket in hand, your steps light but your heart heavy. you hadn’t seen roxto in days, avoiding the places you knew he’d be, keeping yourself scarce under various excuses, anything to keep your distance. but now, standing at his door, the weight of what you are about to do sits uncomfortably on your chest.

he greets you with a joyful smile, as if nothing has changed, as if your absence meant nothing. he doesn’t notice the tension in your jaw or the way your fingers curl too tightly around the basket’s handle. he is still your roxto. “yn, hello! where have you been loca?” he asks, joy in his voice, oblivious. “why are you avoiding me?”

his questions hang in the air between you, but you can’t meet his eyes. you don’t answer his question directly—don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that you have been avoiding him, that you feel like vomiting everytime you see him with kiri.

you force a smile, and he knows it is insincere. “i have been busy,” you say, the words clipped, and even though you know it will hurt him.

“i need the jewelry back,” you say quietly, not looking up at him. “since you are spending so much time with kiri, you will need the space for when she makes you something.”

the joy slips from his face, replaced by confusion. “what? why would you want them back, you gifted them to me!”

your throat tightens, but you force yourself to keep going, to keep the mask of indifference on. “you would not want to wear something another woman made when kiri starts making things for you,” you say, your voice hollow. you look up briefly, catching the hurt in his eyes, the way he flinches at your words. but you can’t stop now. it’s too late.

roxto��s brow furrows as he watches you, the lightness draining from his face. “what are you talking about?” he asks, stepping closer, his voice low but tinged with confusion. “why would i need space for—what do you mean, kiri making something for me?”

you feel your heart race, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “you know exactly what i mean, roxto,” you snap, louder than you intend. the words come sharp, cutting through the quiet of the evening. his family shifts where they sit, their gaze now fully on him, and you see the tension ripple through his shoulders. “just… give me back my things.”

he blinks, taken aback. “what—no, i don’t know what you mean.” his voice is still soft, trying to find his way through the sudden shift in your tone. “why are you saying this? why are you acting like this? we’ve been friends—”

“just give it back, roxto!” you cannot stand to hear him finish that sentence, because you know it will make you falter.

his eyes widen in surprise at your shout, the sudden impatience in your voice. he glances back at his family, noticing how they watch the two of you, then back to you, something like desperation creeping into his expression. “okay, okay,” he says quickly, lifting his hands in surrender, trying to calm the situation. “i will get the jewellery.”

there’s a pause, a long, painful silence, before roxto turns away, walking slowly back into the marui to wherever he kept your jewellery.

his family is there, watching, their eyes flicking between the two of you, confusion etched into their faces. it’s strange—strange to see him return something so personal, so full of meaning. but they don’t say anything, don’t ask the questions you can feel building in the air. they just watch in silence as roxto packs away the last of your gifts, his shoulders slumped, his usual brightness dimmed.

when he hands the basket back to you, his voice is quiet, a shadow of what it was before. “have a goodnight, yn”

oh, why’d he have to say it like that? like it mattered. like it still meant something. you nod then leave without a word, feet moving quicker than they need to, the weight of the basket tugging at your arm. the air feels tight, pressing in on you as you walk, the night too quiet. each step echoes louder than the last until you're back home in the warmth of your own family's home.

lying there, eyes wide open in the dark, you replay the moment over and over, the ache growing sharper. did you make the right choice? were you too hasty? you twist the thought around in your head, but each time it feels messier. whatever. this is for his own good, you tell yourself, staring up at the ceiling. he’ll be happier with kiri. she is quieter than you are, more graceful, and a million times more mature. he needs someone more grounded to compliment him. and that someone isn't you. you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing the thought away, but it lingers, bitter and heavy in the back of your mind.

roxto stood there, watching her disappear into the night, his heart tight in his chest. she’d been different for weeks now. distant, closed off like she was somewhere else even when she stood beside him. no one had said anything, not tsireya, not ao’nung, and he didn’t know if he should ask. he’d meant to, really. but between the sullys arriving, lessons, and,, well, kiri he hadn’t found the time. now, after tonight, he wasn’t sure if she even wanted to talk to him anymore.

he let out a sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. roxto wasn’t one for confrontations, and he wasn’t exactly bold with his feelings either. but this? this felt different. it gnawed at him, made him restless. what did i do?

he couldn’t just leave it unattended like this. and so, he did what he always did when he couldn’t figure things out. he went to ao’nung. of all people.

the two boys lounged on a jagged rock jutting from the water, too far out from the village for it to be considered safe. both had crossbows in hand, halfheartedly waiting for fish to skim the surface. ao’nung stretched lazily, eyes half-closed against the midday sun, but roxto sat with his back hunched, fingers tracing the string of his bow, the words heavy in his mouth.

“ao’nung,” he started, hesitant, “have you noticed anything… strange about yn lately?”

ao’nung cracked open one eye, his tail flicking in mild irritation. “you just noticed?”

“she is mad at me,” his voice was small, like he was afraid to say it aloud.

ao’nung snorted, setting his crossbow down and leaning back against the rock. “no kidding. everyone can see that.”

roxto winced, looking down at the water, watching the ripples as he kicked his feet. “but why? i do not understand. i did not do anything.”

ao’nung snorted, rolling his eyes. “that is because you do not know anything about women. you are hopeless.”

“you are not helping,” roxto muttered, shoulders slumping. he felt ridiculous. maybe he was. his words stung, but there was a truth in them roxto couldn’t ignore.

ao’nung gave him a long look, then sighed, shaking his head. “think about it. when did she start acting weird?”

roxto thought back, his mind drifting over the weeks that had passed, trying to pin down the shift. “i do not know… maybe after the sullys arrived? around then, i guess.”

ao’nung smirked, leaning back on his elbows. “exactly.”

roxto frowned. “what do they have to do with this?”

“you are joking, right? you spend all your time with them. specifically, with kiri—ANOTHER woman.” ao’nung raised an eyebrow, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “and you did not think yn might have a problem with that?”

roxto blinked. “should she? no! i mean, we’re all friends. why would she care?”

ao’nung slapped the back of his head. “because, idiot, she likes you.”

roxto froze, the words sinking in slow, like they didn’t make sense. “what? no, she… she doesn’t.” but even as he said it, something inside him twisted. something clicked.

ao’nung rolled his eyes. “yes, she does. trust me, i know.”

roxto was quiet for a moment, frowning as he stared down at the water. it didn’t add up, but… maybe it did? no, no, that cannot be it.

ao’nung continued, “because you have been parading around with kiri, you made everyone in the entire clan—including yn believe that you are into her.” he shook his head, annoyed. “seriously, you need to start paying attention.”

roxto’s mind spun, trying to piece it all together. “but i did not… i did not mean to—”

“yeah, well, intentions do not matter when you are that clueless.” ao’nung leaned back again. “you better figure it out soon, or you will lose her. and trust me, if you screw this up, she is not coming back.”

roxto’s stomach twisted. he hadn’t meant for that to happen. he never even considered… “so what do i do exactly?”

ao’nung shot him a look that said he was lucky to have even asked. “talk to her, obviously. tell her she is an idiot for thinking she is replaceable. and maybe stop talking about kiri every other sentence while you are at it.”

roxto winced. was he doing that?

he sat there, staring out at the endless stretch of water, the crossbow limp in his hands. he hadn’t seen it at all, not even a flicker of what you might have been feeling. but now, thinking back, it all clicked into place with a painful kind of clarity. he never thought about you being upset, jealous, even. did you really think he would replace you? he couldn’t imagine life without you in it, without your infectious enthusiasm and that grin you'd always flash him when you thought he was being silly.

roxto prided himself on being observant, on noticing the little things. maybe somewhere along the way, he'd gotten too busy. too caught up in lessons and in the newness of the sullys and the trouble they brought, to notice the subtle shift in your relationship. it hurt, knowing he’d missed something so important.

he thinks of the way you used to laugh—how easy it used to be. now, everything feels like glass, sharp and fragile, and he doesn’t know when it started to crack. but it has, and it’s his fault for not noticing sooner. for letting you drift while he stood still. his fingers run over the string of his crossbow, feeling the tension there, the quiet hum it makes, and he realizes—he misses you. more than he can explain. more than he should, maybe. and it hits him like a wave breaking at his feet. you’re not just his friend, are you?

roxto had never really thought about it before, but you had always been the center of things, the pull that kept him steady. now, without you, it was like the air had thinned—he couldn’t catch his breath. he’d always seen you like sunlight, slipping through cracks, too bright to look at directly. and now that you weren't there, the spaces she used to fill felt raw, sharp around the edges, like the world itself had dulled. how had he not noticed that before? he was in love with you.

all he could think about throughout the rest of the day were the memories he kept tucked away, the ones he wrapped in quiet, secret ribbons just for him. he remembered the way his pulse would pick up when you'd tuck your hair over your shoulder, how he'd straighten his back, try to sound more confident, whenever she turned his way. like that night by the reef just him and you, long after the others had gone back. the moon caught in your eyes, and he thought this is what people sing about. he told himself it was nothing—just his nerves—but it stuck to him.

maybe he'd been in love with you since before he even knew what love was, and now it was too late to pretend he was not.

he has to fix this. no more waiting, no more wondering. he’ll find you, talk to you. say all the things he should’ve said weeks ago.

you’re stuck on babysitting duty, watching your little brother chase after the colorful fish darting through the shallows while the sun dips low on the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant strokes of orange and pink. it’s not what you’d planned for your day, but instead, you’re knee-deep in the sand, half-heartedly shooing away a group of noisy kids who think your brother is the perfect playmate, while all you can think about is how much you’d rather be anywhere else.

then, just as you’re considering dragging your brother home, you spot roxto in the distance, silhouetted against the light. he’s been looking for you and you dreaded being found. rush of heat floods your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and envy, and without thinking, you duck behind the nearest rock formation, heart racing. you can’t let him see you like this, can’t let him witness the way your heart sinks at the sight of him with her. so you crouch low, desperate for the ground to swallow you up as you watch them through the slivers of light, feeling both drawn to him and repelled by the creeping jealousy that gnaws at your insides.

roxto finds you quicker than you’d hoped, right when you thought you’d found the perfect hiding spot. you’re crouched beneath the jagged rock formation, pressed against the cool stone. his wide eyes mirror your own nervous energy, though he doesn’t fully understand why you’re hiding. you’ve barely explained it to yourself. you swallow the lump in your throat and murmur to him, “just tell him i qm not here, okay? do not look at me, just say it.” he nods, earnest and serious as if this is part of some grand game, his little shoulders squared like he’s on a mission.

the shadow that falls over the rocks sends a shiver through you. there’s roxto, standing just a few feet away, his familiar silhouette against the last stretch of evening light. your brother scrambles to his feet, hands on his hips like he’s proud to be delivering this very important message. “she told me to tell you she ks not here,” he says, all too pleased with himself.

there’s a long silence. long enough that you think roxto might actually leave, might actually accept your weak excuse and let you sit in the safety of your little cave, but then you hear him sigh. the kind of exhale that says really?

“you know i can see you, right?”

your stomach twists, and you stay still, hoping the ground might just swallow you whole. he steps closer, ducking his head slightly as if to peer under the rock, and when you glance up, his eyes are already on you, soft and confused.

“come on, yn. talk to me.”

you don’t move, your arms still wrapped tight around your knees. he always finds you. you should have known better. “i do not have anything to say to you.”

he crouches beside you, and the look on his face is enough to make you want to scream. he looks worried, gentle, like he has no idea why this is happening. and maybe he doesn’t. of course, he doesn’t.

“you have been avoiding me,” he says, voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “ao'nung says you are jealous of kiri.”

you press your forehead against your knees, trying to swallow the frustration that’s rising up your throat. how could he not see it? it’s all been so obvious. the way he looks at her, the way he gravitates toward her during lessons, the way you’ve started to feel like an afterthought. but instead of answering, instead of explaining yourself like you should, you lash out, words coming before you can stop them.

“why should i be jealous of the forest girl?” the moment the words leave your mouth, you regret them. they hang in the air between you, sharp and bitter, and when you finally lift your head, roxto’s face has fallen, eyes wide in shock.

“yn,” he breathes, like you’ve slapped him. like he can’t believe what you’ve just said.

“i did not mean that,” you mutter, ashamed, the guilt settling in your chest like a rock. you’ve never spoken to him like that before. never said anything so cruel. it isn’t like you, but jealousy has made you into something you don’t recognize. something venomous, something ugly.

roxto stares at you, still crouched beside the rock, and the hurt in his eyes makes your chest ache even more. “you know i do not care about her like that,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “kiri is just… she is just a friend.”

a friend. just a friend. but it doesn’t feel like that, not when you see how easily they get along, how effortlessly they share smiles and looks you can’t decode. and yet, as he sits beside you now, earnest and so full of concern, you start to feel ridiculous for doubting him. he’s always been yours—yours in that way friendships are built, brick by brick, over years of laughter and trust. but now, you can’t shake the feeling that something is slipping away, something you hadn’t even realized you were holding so tightly until you started to lose it.

“it does not feel that way,” you admit quietly, your voice cracking in the way it does when you’re on the edge of tears. you’re tired of holding it all in, tired of pretending like you’re fine. “it feels like… everything is different now.”

he doesn’t answer right away, and you can tell he’s trying to make sense of what you’ve said, trying to understand without fully grasping the depth of your pain. his gaze softens, but he looks unsure, fumbling for the right words. “nothing has changed,” he says eventually, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than you.

but it has changed. it’s there, in the way his focus has shifted, the way he talks about kiri—about her quick mind, her sharp instincts, the way she fits in so easily with everyone. and you hate that it makes you feel so small, so unwanted. and what if he does care about her? what if you’re just another friend to him, no different from anyone else?

before he can say more, you hear your parents calling from the shore, their voices carrying over the water, and your brother perks up, already darting toward the sound. “yn!” they call again, louder this time, and you know you don’t have much time left.

you stand abruptly, brushing off the sand and dirt from your legs, and roxto rises with you, watching you with those eyes, that familiar warmth. “i am sorry,” you blurt out, almost tripping over the words. “i will talk to you tomorrow, i promise.”

and then, without thinking, you step toward him, wrapping your arms around his torso, pulling him into a tight embrace. he stiffens for a second, surprised, but then his arms come up to hold you, a hesitant warmth that you know all too well. you press your face into his chest for a moment, breathing him in, the familiar scent of saltwater and earth grounding you.

when you pull away, his expression is a mixture of confusion and something else—something you can’t quite place. “goodbye,” you whisper, offering a small, tired smile.

and with that, you turn and walk toward the shore, your feet sinking into the cool sand, heart heavy with the weight of what you didn’t say. every step feels harder than the last, like you’re leaving something important behind, but you don’t look back.

hope u guys have a good night/day!!

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