#nd even more lovesick!lo'ak

[iwantjaketosullyme]

new chappy of aphrodite will be posted @ 4pm bst today !

[iwantjaketosullyme]

𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ᴘᴀʀᴛ Ⅳ: ᴍɪʟᴋ, ʜᴏɴᴇʏ, ʜᴀʀᴍᴏɴɪᴇꜱ

➺ pairing: aged up!lo'ak x f!metkayina!reader (fluff) ➺ series summary: lovesick!lo'ak does all he can to win the heart of oblivious!reader ➺ chapter summary: ❝ Sullys stick together, so he knows that his disappointment will be cut into little pieces and divided equally amongst his family members, another burden shared. ❞ (w/c: 3.1k) ➺ warnings: kiri nd tuk bullying lo'ak (he had it coming), throwing up (minor), lo'ak is still a silly billy🤭 a/n: sully shenanigans continue ! i'm making tuk 10 yrs old in this even tho everyone else is 5 yrs older. if she was human, tuk would defo mutilate her barbie dolls then beg jake to buy her more. someone needs to save lo'ak, reader rlly thinks everything is life or death lmaooo. na'vi dictionary at the end :)

« 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬┃𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭┃𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 »

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

It is evening. Eywa has strung the stars in the sky, illuminating her dear Eywa’eveng with the same tanhi that litter the skin of her children. The constellations are visual retellings of the stories of humble Na’vi made legend after achieving exploits for their people, a reminder of the greatness found in unity.

All clan activities have wound down – the fishers have hung up their nets, divers have inspected their findings and hunters have laid down their spears. At the centre of the shore blazes a strong and defiant bonfire. Its flames are fanned and fuelled by the life that pulses in the Metkayina gathered around it who convene to share tales of the day’s events.   

The soft scraping of fingertips on wooden bowls fills the air as separate family units come together to share a communal meal and enjoy the spoils of the day’s hunt. A myriad of voices can be heard; the croak of an aged elder, the babble of a babe and the peeved huff of a particular young Na’vi male.

Over the din of the clan’s combined chatter, Lo’ak’s expression of his annoyance is only heard by those that are sat right next to him. On his right-hand side sits Neteyam, who is half-concerned about what it is that has his baby bro so upset, but simultaneously trying to keep up with Tuk’s recounting of the scenarios she had made her figurines act out today.

On the other side of Lo’ak sits Kiri, who is praying to the Great Mother in her head, begging for the grace not to hit him if he sighs one more time.

“Hey Lo’ak, are you going to tell us what’s wrong or are you going to keep sitting there with a face like a slapped palulukan’s arse?” Kiri’s voice cuts off Tuk’s rambling, the girl deciding to take matters into her own hands. She couldn’t bear seeing his pinched expression in her peripheral vision for a second longer. Her remark brings the attention of the whole family onto Lo’ak, whose brow only furrows further in lieu of a response.

Scandalised by such a comment from her daughter (who typically had her head too high up in the clouds to engage in petty name-calling), Neytiri’s face flushes in shock. At the same time, Jake struggles to suppress a chuckle and manages to cover it up with a faux-stern “Kiri!”, forehead creasing into a frown that is nearly convincing enough. Nearly.

It was easy to see that something was off with Lo’ak – where he would usually have scarfed down his helping of food in the first five minutes of the meal and spent the rest of it badgering Tuk and Kiri for the food in their bowls with a cheeky ‘are you gonna eat that?’, he’d been pushing the same piece of fish around for the past thirty minutes. 

If that was not enough of a sign, the clearest indication of his displeasure could be seen in his tail that hangs limply in the sand behind him, or his folded-back ears that had not even perked up at the sound of Tuk’s stories, for which he usually provided the sound effects. 

It was for these reasons that nobody was truly surprised at Kiri’s outburst. They had just been hoping that Lo’ak would open up without being prompted first.

With the hubbub of the clan’s numerous conversations in the background, Lo’ak’s silence is loud. While he is embarrassed to have been caught in the act of sulking (Eywa, he couldn’t even mourn a love that died before it lived in peace), he is more so hesitant to declare his premature failure to the people who had been so ardently supportive of his romantic pursuit.

Sullys stick together, so he knows that his disappointment will be cut into little pieces and shared equally amongst his family members, another burden shared. But Lo’ak is tired of being a burden, and has been for a while.

Ever the attentive older brother, Neteyam recognises the resignation in the hunch of his shoulders. Planting a warm, comforting hand on one of them, he chances a gentle coax, “Tell us what’s up baby bro, I’m listening.”

Realising that the family will not be satisfied until he supplies an answer, Lo’ak heaves a final sigh before revealing what has been troubling him – to nobody’s surprise, you. He relays an abridged version of the conversation the two of you had in the afternoon, purposefully leaving out the part where he too had laid his soul bare. 

As he discloses his grievances, Lo’ak’s eyes are cast downwards, anxious fingers fiddle with the songcord attached securely to his tewng. His new favourite pastime is pondering over which trinkets he will choose to signify your and his union, your first child and the countless other life events he longs to share with you. What he would choose, he corrects mentally.

After your proclamation of seeing him as merely a friend earlier today, his future projections of a life with you are now conditional, a distant alternative in the far-away realm of possibility. 

Eventually gaining enough courage to look up from his lap, he shares the news of his relegation to the dreaded friend zone, which to him is a fate more damning than exile. He finishes by imploring somewhat desperately, “So how do I make her want me back?”

The most unlikely of advisors in the affairs of romance answers. “You can’t. And you will never be able to,” Tuk declares. Quite frankly, she is already tired of this conversation and has not forgiven Lo’ak for indirectly interrupting her storytelling. His moping around has shifted everyone’s attention away from her and onto him. She will make him pay, if it’s the last thing she does.

Flabbergasted to the point of agitation, Lo’ak’s head whips to the side to grill Tuk, beaded braids smacking his face in his haste. “And how would you know, huh?” He continues with a sing-song quality in his voice, “You’re still a baby.”

After releasing a petulant huff of indignation, Tuk replies, “Because you’re a boy so you have cooties, duh!” Endlessly tired of having her opinions disregarded because of her young age, she drives her point further. “I bet she won’t even talk to you if you don’t talk to her first!”

Lo’ak’s initial reaction is one of hurt. Still insecure in the status of his relationship with you, he is especially sensitive to criticism, even if it comes from his kid sister. In spite of this, although he would never admit it, Tuk’s childish banter breaks Lo’ak from the bondage of his melancholy and is a welcomed reprieve from the unchartered waters of love he has been struggling to navigate. 

Thus, he allows himself to be enraptured by the familiar push and pull of sibling rivalry and resolves to do all he can to prove that his belief in your love is not just fuelled by fantasy.

“Oh, you wanna bet?” His sudden determination to make your feelings towards him evident becomes a quick priority, even though he is not too sure of them himself and that was the exact reason for his previous sulking. “Go on,” Lo’ak goads, “pick the forfeit.”

Knowing that there is no way that this will end well but also knowing both siblings are too far gone to be dissuaded now, Jake, Neytiri, Kiri and Neteyam separately reach the same conclusion. Better to sit back and watch it all unfold than attempt to meddle. This is gonna be a long night.

“Loser has to give up their yovo fruit for a month!” Tuk responds, a challenging glint present in her large eyes. She is well aware that yovo fruit is Lo'ak's dessert of choice and cannot wait to delight in the pained look on his face when he is denied of it.

Spurred on by the flair for showmanship that he most definitely inherited from his father, Lo’ak shakes his head and demands higher stakes. “Nah, that’s too easy. What’s something you really want?”

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth,Tuk responds, “Well…I do need some new figurines to play with…” and looks at Lo’ak expectantly, waiting for him to connect the dots.

“Already??” Lo’ak asks, confused. “I made you a new ikran toy like two months ago, what happened to him?” Blessed with an uncanny knack for woodwork, Lo’ak was Tuk’s preferred manufacturer of the figurines that were the subjects of her elaborate storylines, some of which were cause for concern.

“She was a girl. And I just lost her tragically in battle. IED. You would know if you were listening.” Tuk likes her play time to be as realistic as possible. She quite literally simulated an IED explosion by throwing the figurine in the central fire of the marui used for cooking, when nobody was looking. All that remains of the fallen comrade is the pile of ashes Lo’ak stares at accusingly later in the night when he returns home.

“Okay, what about the toruk Dad made for Neteyam that was passed down to Kiri, who passed it down to me, who passed it down to you?” Their father had spent months crafting that particular piece and it was a cherished part of each of their childhoods. There’s no way Tuk would dare destroy it.

Undeterred, Tuk answers. “He’s senile. Not fit for flight and too slow for guerilla warfare. It’s an ikran eat ikran world out there y’know.” She completes her explanation with a casual shrug, as if to say ‘well, what can you do?’

Caught in the crossfire, Jake willfully ignores that she looks at him when saying the word senile. She had been taking advantage of every chance to remind him of his age ever since he and Neytiri made the terrible mistake of trying to introduce her to the idea of them having another baby. Her firm belief in her right to be the baby of the family was not to be questioned. Ever.

Lo’ak groans and throws his head back in exasperation. He misses the days when the best comeback Tuk had was sticking her tongue out at him. As the years go by, more and more of Kiri’s effortless sass rubs off on her and he always seems to be her victim of choice. Eywa’s justice for him teasing her mercilessly when she was little, he admits to himself, albeit begrudgingly.

“Fine!” He relents, “bet’s on! I’m gonna make her fall for me and you’re gonna kiss my big, blue, striped a-”

“Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk’itan!” “Boy if you don’t-”

Neytiri and Jake’s respective exclamations of admonishment cut Lo’ak off swiftly, identical disapproving glares putting an effective end to the verbal tug of war he and Tuk had been engaged in.

Naturally assuming the role of peacemaker, Neteyam raises both his hands in a sign of caution, attempting to diffuse the situation before it escalates any further. He then turns to Lo’ak and with a teasing smirk tells him, “Forget all this bet talk, bro. You’d better go pray to the Great Mother because your skxawng ass needs all the help you can get.” 

His gaze softens when he becomes serious again, smirk melting into a genuine smile. “If you get her blessing, your courtship is sure to succeed, baby bro!”

Ruled by his propensity to act rashly, Lo’ak does not detect the sincerity in Neteyam’s advice and brushes him off. “Nah bro, I got this. Lemme let Eywa have a rest day for once, alright?”

Neteyam and Kiri share an incredulous look; was this the same man that looked one prod away from tears a few moments ago?

He will do this his way. A Sully man through and through, Lo’ak ups the ante.

With renewed vigour, Lo’ak crams handfuls of fish into his mouth as he devises a plan to get your attention, his appetite returning with a vengeance. As he plots, Tuk resumes her storytelling and the family falls back into the lull of easy conversation.

(*for atmosphere, you can play 'na'vi river journey ride through' here*)

Soon after, the long, low and heavy note of the clan horn carries over the shore, signalling the end of the communal meal and the prompt beginning of communal worship. Designated Na’vi make their way around the bonfire, collecting the gourds that the meal had been served on. The gathered Metkayina set their used bowls aside, placing them behind the logs they are sat on before rising to their feet.

This moment coincides with Lo’ak’s thoughts aligning, finally settling on the plan he will put in motion.

Subtlety is key, he surmises. He needs to be suave, mysterious, intriguing. No lady can resist the charm of a smouldering gaze, after all. With the image of every elusive male protagonist in the tawtute romance films he had watched at the forefront of his mind, Lo’ak fixes his face into what he thinks to be a firm, guarded expression and sets his gaze on you. To him, he looks like he is brooding in the corner of the evening gathering, veiled countenance emitting an allure that is sure to attract you to him. 

When the singing has commenced and you still have not turned to face him despite him practically burning holes into your face with the strength of his stare, he beckons you over in his head. As he struggles to keep the intense look on his face for an extended period of time, a vein bulges prominently from his forehead. For the first time, he finds himself jealous of Payakan, wishing he had the ability to communicate with echolocation like the tulkun.

Swaying in time with the rhythm of the beat being drummed by the clan percussionists, you are brought out of your reverie by a short nudge from Tsireya. Once she has your attention, she points a clandestine finger in Lo’ak’s direction. Focus shifting to where she is pointing, you observe Lo’ak and the expression on his face. He appears to be…pained?

Your eyes are full of concern as they meet his, look to your left, look to your right and meet his again, noticing that his unwavering gaze remains on you. You pat Tsireya’s back, indicating your exit before crouching down and slinking towards Lo’ak, weaving between the singing Metkayina around you. 

He sees you coming his way and thinks well, looks like Tuk owes me a whole lotta yovo fruit. As the distance between the two of you reduces, his anticipation for what you will say mounts to the point where he feels he could almost burst. For the second time today, he awaits your words with baited breath. 

“Oh my Eywa, Lo’ak are you constipated?” Up close, he looks even more disturbed than he did from afar. The pinched together eyebrows, clenched fists and pursed lips – from your training as a healer you recognise these as the telltale signs of constipation. “Good thing I always keep a stash of paywll leaves on me!” You reach into the pouch of herbs slung around your torso, medical mode activated and ready to treat him.

His hand shoots forward to stop you from going any further with your movements, touching yours in the process. He becomes so overwhelmed by the direct skin on skin contact that he gets all flustered, looking worse than he already did. He wants to tell you that he’s perfectly fine and this is a big misunderstanding but he can’t. Riddled with nerves, his throat swells up and blood rushes to his cheeks in embarrassment. He’s blushing. 

Continuing your spontaneous medical examination, you press a hand to his cheeks. His temperature is burning hot. How could you be so silly? You chide yourself mentally. He’s clearly suffering from food poisoning! 

Thinking back, you remember that the hunting party had returned to the village with the catch of the day a little later than usual. Perhaps the cooks were in such a hurry they undercooked some of the fish?

Before he can so much as say ‘I’m a silly skxawng’, you’re dragging him by the wrist until you are a short distance away from the gathered clan, behind the cover of a tall tautral plant.

He does not get the chance to ask you to explain yourself before you turn him around to face you and shove two of your three fingers down his oesophagus. If he thought the first time he met you was the most embarrassing moment of his life, this current moment quickly proved him wrong. 

Not only was he forced by the triggering of his gag reflex to pass up the contents of his stomach, he was doing it in a spot that was not far enough away to ensure no other clan member would hear the nauseating sounds, even over the sound of singing. Making matters worse, in his sorry attempt to psych himself up before executing his plan, he had eaten a behemoth amount of food. And now, there is a behemoth amount for him to pass up.

When he appears to have fully emptied the contents of his stomach, you crouch down to be level with his bent-over figure.

“All better?” You ask.

“Y-yeah,” his voice cracks pitifully. “Much better.” He nods his head, as if convincing himself. “Thanks.” 

Lo’ak looks up to find a dopey smile on your face and he knows that you must be happy to have saved him again, because he is happy to have been ‘saved’ by you again. Even though things didn't go as he had planned, as he looks into the depths of your eyes he cannot bring himself to regret a single thing.

He returns to the fellowship after a little while, painfully aware that at least parts of the debacle had been audible. He is met by sympathetic looks from his family, barring one person. Tuk.

She refuses to give him anything even though he had technically won the bet – you did talk to him first. Adamant, she insists that he still owes her a month’s worth of yovo fruit and a new toy. When he presses, attempting to stand his ground, she narrows her eyes menacingly and calls for Neytiri with a mighty “Sa’nu!” and Lo’ak knows that the odds are woefully against him.

As he predicted, Neytiri forces him to make the toy for her anyway. 

Knowing he is now at her mercy, Tuk demands, “I want this one to be a tsurak. Blue, yellow and green.” Lo’ak turns to leave, but she is still going. “And don’t you dare cut corners this time!”

He turns back to find her in a bossy little pose, arms crossed over her chest. “I noticed the smudge in the paint on the last one, penis face.”

Lo’ak pivots to look to his mother for support, but she is already walking down the pathway, inwardly questioning why she decided to have four children.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

na’vi dictionary

eywa’eveng- na’vi word for pandora // tanhi - na’vi bioluminescent freckles // palulukan - thanator // tewng - loincloth // yovo- type of Na’vi fruit // ikran - mountain banshee // toruk- great leonopteryx // marui - tent // skxawng - idiot // paywll - dapophet (healing plant) // tautral- beanstalk palm // sa’nu - mummy // tsurak- skimwing

© iwantjaketosullyme tumblr 2023

☼ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵:

@heirtothekingdom , @bebkyu , @amiah24 , @inlovewithpandora , @alathan13 , @girlnred , @ggujkie , @aemondhoe , @malandrinhass , @itsyagirl01 , @mookiepookiesblog , @idekstopasking , @thelxnelyworld , @whitch123 , @camila-alejandra26 , @draiochtwrites , @leoloeleosworld , @seokmin130 , @apple-law-pie , @daddyvinniesleftnut , @flwrsatsuns3t , @thehoneymushroomhealer , @marsbars09 , @andraga12 , @randxmthxughts , @awriana , @izuoyarmin , @cumikering , @manzana-nita , @sakura-onesan

𝘭𝘮𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰/𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 <3