𝑁𝑜𝑤. 𝐴𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡.
Pairings: avatar!Jake sully x fem!omatikaya reader
Summary: Misunderstandings keeps them apart until truth and longing bring them together.
Notes: I’ve been in a slump for so long! But i finally finished! I listened to Young and beautiful by Lana while writing this… not that anyone asked. This is last part. Not proofread! I hope you enjoy and ty for reading!
Warnings: avoidance, angst, slow burn, illness, physical weakness, miscommunication, kissing, emotional distress, use of y/n… let me know if i missed anything.
Word count: idk. she’s longgg!
Translations: Oel ngati kameie - I see you.
part 1
Jake noticed the third time you didn’t look at him.
Not the first.. everyone had off days.
Not the second because he’d told himself you were busy, focused, tired.
The third time, it settled wrong in his chest.
You passed him near the fire pit, close enough that your arm brushed the air beside him, close enough that he could hear your breathing. You didn’t slow. Didn’t glance over. Didn’t even tense like you usually did when he was near.
It was like he wasn’t there at all.
Before, even in passing, there had always been something.
Your eyes flicking to his, your tail swaying just a little closer than necessary, the easy rhythm you shared without words.
Now, nothing.
You slipped through the village like smoke, present but unreachable.
Now, you stood across the training grounds, bow in hand, listening as one of the warriors gave instructions. When Jake made a quiet comment.. something teasing, something meant just for you.
You didn’t snap back. Didn’t roll your eyes. Didn’t smile.
You didn’t react at all.
Jake leaned against the tree, watching you loose arrow after arrow.
Your form was flawless. Sharp. Controlled. No hesitation.
But there was an edge to you now.. every movement precise, aggressive, like you were fighting something invisible.
Or someone.
Neytiri noticed too.
“You are angry,” she said quietly one evening, arms crossed as she watched you from afar.
Jake scoffed. “I’m not.”
She turned to him slowly, golden eyes narrowing. “Then why do you keep watching her as if you are waiting for something to break?”
He had no answer for that.
That night, Jake found himself outside your hut before he realized what he was doing.
The glow from inside was faint, shadows dancing against the woven walls.
He hesitated then lifted his hand and knocked once.
Silence.
He waited.
“Y/n,” he said softly. “I know you’re in there.”
A pause. Long enough that he almost turned away.
Then the flap shifted open just enough for you to look at him.
Your expression was calm. Too calm. “What do you want?” you asked.
That tone. Distant. Polite. Like he was no one.
Jake swallowed. “did i do something wrong?”
You studied him for a moment, eyes unreadable. “You did nothing.”
“That’s not true,” he said quickly. “You won’t even look at me anymore.”
Your jaw tightened, just barely. “You imagine things.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I hear when you leave a place because I enter it. I see you turn away. You don’t train near me. You don’t talk to me. That’s not nothing.”
Silence stretched between you, heavy and fragile.
Finally, you exhaled, slow and steady. “It does not matter.”
Jake shook his head. “It matters to me.”
That did it.
Your eyes snapped up to his, sharp and bright with something dangerously close to breaking. “Why?” you demanded. “Why should it matter to you?”
He opened his mouth and hesitated.
And in that pause, everything came rushing back. The clearing. Neytiri’s voice. His own words, spoken without thought, without knowing who might hear.
‘I don’t want Y/n.’
Your face hardened, walls slamming back into place.
“Go,” you said quietly.
Jake frowned. “What?”
“Leave.” Your voice was steady, but your tail lashed behind you, betraying the storm beneath. “You should not be here.”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what I did,” he said firmly.
You laughed then soft, bitter. “You already said it.”
His brow furrowed. “Said what?”
You met his gaze, unflinching now. “That you do not want me.”
The words hung between you like a blade.
Jake’s breath caught. “What?”
“I heard you,” you continued, voice low, controlled. “In the forest. With Neytiri.”
Understanding crashed over him like a wave, sudden and brutal.
“No,” he said immediately. “That’s not…”
“You were clear,” you cut in. “Firm. Dismissive. I listened. I learned.”
Jake stepped forward, desperation flickering across his face. “You heard one moment. One sentence. You didn’t hear the rest.”
You shook your head. “I heard enough.”
The forest hummed softly, unaware of the fracture standing between two people who used to laugh together.
“explaining it will not change it,” you spoke. “And I do not wish to stand here and pretend it will.”
Your voice cracked, just slightly and that was enough to make his chest ache.
Jake’s voice came soft, too soft. “Y/n.”
“I…I need to explain….” he started.
“Go,” you said. The single word carried everything you wouldn’t show… distance, finality, control.
He froze. For a second, maybe two, he looked like he thought you might soften.
You didn’t.
“You don’t mean that,” he said, voice low, desperate.
“I do,” you said evenly. No pause. No inflection. Just the cold truth.
You stepped inside your hut and let the flap fall behind you.
The soft thunk echoed in the quiet like a door closing not just on him, but on everything he thought he had with you.
🐾
You didn’t realize how loud silence could be until Jake started avoiding you too.
Not openly. Not obviously. Just enough that it felt deliberate.
He stopped standing where you usually passed. Stopped lingering after training.
When your paths crossed in the village, he’d nod once.. polite, distant then keep moving, like whatever had been between you had already been buried.
That hurt worse than anger.
You told yourself it was fine. You told yourself this was what you wanted.
But your body didn’t listen.
The exhaustion crept in slowly. Sleepless nights. Bruises that took longer to fade.
You trained anyway, harder than before, teeth clenched, jaw set, as if discipline alone could burn him out of your chest.
It didn’t.
The day it finally broke, the village was busy. Voices overlapped, children darting between huts, elders speaking softly near the fire pit.
You were carrying supplies when your vision blurred.
Just for a second.
You stumbled then caught yourself but the basket slipped from your hands, beads and tools scattering across the ground.
You dropped to your knees too quickly.
Someone called your name.
Before you could react, Jake was there.
Not careful. Not distant.
There.
His hands hovered, then landed on your shoulders when you swayed again. “Hey…hey, slow down.”
“I am fine.” you muttered, trying to pull away.
“You’re not,” he said, quieter now, like he was afraid of scaring you. “You’re burning up.”
You froze.
He hadn’t meant to say that. You could hear it in his voice.. the realization, the worry he’d been keeping locked down cracking through.
“I do not need you worrying about me,” you said stiffly.
Jake didn’t move his hands.
That alone made your chest tighten.
“I wasn’t,” he said after a beat.
You let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh if you had the energy. “You just said I was burning up.”
His jaw flexed. “I stated a fact.”
You pushed his hand this time and he let go immediately, like he’d been waiting for permission to back away.
Good.
You gathered the scattered supplies with shaking fingers. Beads slipped through your grasp. Your head throbbed dully, but you ignored it, focused on the ground, on not looking at him.
Jake crouched anyway, helping you without asking.
“I can do it myself,” you snapped.
“I know,” he said simply, passing you a tool. No edge. No challenge. Just… acceptance.
That unsettled you more than if he’d argued.
When you stood, the world tilted again. You corrected too fast, pulse spiking, breath coming shallow.
Jake noticed.
He always noticed.
“You should sit,” he said.
“No.”
“You almost fell.”
“I did not.”
“You did,” he replied, still calm. Too calm. “And you’ve been pushing yourself like you’re trying to prove something.”
That made you look at him.
Just for a second.
Big mistake.
His expression wasn’t accusatory. It wasn’t angry. It was… restrained. Like he was holding back words he knew better than to say. Like he was walking a careful line he hadn’t meant to step onto in the first place.
You turned away again. “Move.”
He didn’t.
Not blocking you. Just standing there, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, smell the familiar mix of leather and forest on his skin.
“You’re sick,” he said quietly.
Your hands curled into fists. “You do not get to decide that.”
“I’m not deciding anything,” he replied. “I’m just standing here.”
“That is the problem.”
That finally did it.
He stepped back.
The space between you rushed in like cold air, sharp and immediate. You hated how much relief you felt and how much it hurt at the same time.
You walked past him without another word.
You didn’t see his face as you went, but you felt his eyes on your back, heavy with things unsaid.
The village swallowed you quickly.. voices, movement, life continuing like nothing had cracked open in the middle of it.
🐾
You wake before dawn with your throat burning.
Your head feels heavy, body slow, heat trapped beneath your skin.
When you sit up, the world tilts slightly but you steady yourself, breathing through it. Weakness is not something you show. Not now. Not to him.
You still go to training.
The air is cool, damp with morning mist, and it helps for a while.
You focus on movement. On routine. On not thinking.
You’ve always been good at that.
The fever comes and goes in waves. Some mornings you wake drenched in sweat, limbs heavy, head pounding. Other days it fades just enough to let you pretend nothing’s wrong.
Today is one of the in between days.
You’re adjusting the ties on your arm guard when you feel it again.. that familiar weight of being watched.
You don’t look up. You don’t need to.
Jake stands near the weapons rack, pretending to listen to another warrior. His body is angled wrong. His attention split.
You keep your movements precise. Calm. Normal.
Your vision blurs briefly when you bend to pick up your bow.
You straighten too fast and the ground tilts.
You steady yourself.
Again jake notices.
He always does.
He says nothing.
He watches the way your hands tremble just slightly before you still them.
Training begins. Sparring drills. Running. Climbing. You push through it all with clenched teeth, breath burning in your lungs. The ache in your joints grows sharper, deeper, but you refuse to slow.
By the time training ends, your hands are shaking.
You move to leave immediately, but someone calls your name, asking for help carrying equipment.
You nod, because saying no would draw attention.
The crate is heavier than it looks.
You feel it the moment you lift it.
your arms protesting, your shoulders burning but you ignore that too. You always do. You shift the crate higher against your chest and start across the village, head down, steps measured.
Don’t draw attention. Don’t slow.
You make it halfway.
Then your vision goes white.
Not dark… white, like the world has been washed clean of edges.
Your foot catches on nothing. Your breath stutters.
The crate slips from your hands before you realize your grip is gone.
The sound it makes when it hits the ground is loud… too loud and then the world tilts sharply to the left.
Your knees buckle, strength draining out of you all at once like it had been waiting for permission.
You don’t hit the ground.
Jake catches you.
His arms lock around you instinctively, one hand gripping your upper arm, the other bracing your back as your weight sags into him.
You hear your name, sharp and urgent, but it sounds far away.
“Hey… hey, baby stay with me.”
Your head lolls forward, vision swimming, heat roaring in your ears.
You try to speak, to insist you’re fine, but the words won’t come out right. Your chest feels tight. Breathing takes effort.
“I..” Your mouth feels dry. Your tongue thick. “I am fine.”
“No,” he snaps. “No, you’re not.”
You try to push him away. Weakly. It barely registers.
Jake swears under his breath.
You feel him adjust his grip, stronger now, decisive. One arm slides fully around your back, lifting you against his chest as your legs give out completely.
“Clear a path,” he says to no one in particular, voice tight.
You catch fragments of movement, hands reaching out, voices murmuring but Jake doesn’t stop. He lifts you fully now, carrying you with ease like you weigh nothing at all.
Your forehead presses against his shoulder.
The world blurs in and out.
“You’re burning up,” he mutters, more to himself this time. “Dammit.”
The walk to Mo’at’s hut feels endless and nonexistent all at once. You register the shift in air, the scent of herbs and smoke, the cool shade as he steps inside.
Mo’at rises the moment she sees you. “Lay her here.”
Jake does, carefully, reluctantly. His hands linger at your shoulders, then your wrist, like he’s not convinced you won’t vanish the second he lets go.
You feel yourself being lowered, careful hands guiding you down.
Mo’at looks at Jake . “What happened?”
“She collapsed,” Jake says immediately. “She’s been like this for days.”
Mo’at presses her fingers to your forehead and clicks her tongue softly. “She is burning with fever.”
Jake exhales sharply through his nose. “I knew it.”
“She has pushed herself too far,” Mo’at continues. “And for too long.”
Jake doesn’t move from your side.
Only when Mo’at gently nudges him back does he step aside, standing rigid near the entrance, hands clenched, eyes never leaving you.
Your vision fades at the edges. Your breathing evens out as sleep drags you under, heavy and unavoidable.
You don’t hear Mo’at telling him to be patient.
You don’t hear him answer, low and firm, “I’m not going anywhere.”
The last thing you’re aware of is the weight of exhaustion finally pulling you under
🐾
Your eyes open slowly.
The world is too bright, too sharp, and your head pounds in time with your heartbeat.
Every breath feels like it takes effort. You want to move, but your limbs won’t respond properly.
You’re lying back against the soft bedding Mo’at has prepared, sweat cooling in sticky patches across your skin.
Fever fogs your mind, every movement feels like lifting mountains, and yet your ears pick up the quiet murmurs outside the hut.
“Y/n?”
The voice is soft. Gentle. Familiar, yet not his. Your eyelids flutter. You shift your head slightly, trying to focus.
Neytiri is sitting beside you, her hand resting lightly against yours, forehead creased with worry. Her amber eyes hold something you can’t quite place… relief, fear, frustration all wrapped into one.
“You are awake,” she says softly.
You blink at her, throat dry, words sticking. “…Where..?”
“Mo’at’s hut,” Neytiri replies, her tone calm but firm. “You have been out for days. Do you remember anything?”
You try to lift your head and fail. Your body feels alien, heavy, like it’s made of stone. “…I…training…” you manage, voice cracking. “I…collapsed.”
Her hand tightens around yours. “I know. Jake brought you here. He…did not leave.” Her eyes flick to the doorway, where you can faintly see his silhouette, stiff, tense, refusing to step inside.
You try to sit up further. Your muscles scream in protest. “Days?”
“Days,” Neytiri confirms, her voice soft but carrying weight. “You have been burning with fever. Mo’at has been watching over you. She says it is dangerous…you need rest.”
You swallow, throat raw. “Jake…”
Neytiri glances toward the doorway. “He is outside. He has not left. He has been keeping watch. Waiting for you to wake.”
Neytiri leans close, hand warm on yours, her eyes steady and unyielding as she searches your face.
“He… said something you misunderstood,” she begins, her hand resting lightly on yours, firm but gentle.
You flinch slightly. “…I do not care,” you whisper, voice dry and cracked. “…It does not matter what he meant.”
Neytiri doesn’t argue. She tilts her head, amber eyes steady on yours. “It does matter. You need to hear it.”
“…I do not want to hear it,” you murmur, turning your face into the pillow.
Your body trembles under the thin blanket Mo’at gave you, and even lifting your eyelids feels like a battle.
Neytiri sighs beside you, calm and unwavering.
Her fingers brush lightly over yours, grounding, warm. “You will listen,” she says softly, “because the truth will not harm you. It will not change who you are. Only what you thought you knew.”
“…I know what I heard. I do not need explanations.” You whisper.
“No,” she says quietly. “You need to understand, even if you refuse to listen. What you heard…was only part. Only a piece of what he truly meant.”
You flinch, pressing your face harder against the pillow. “I do not care what he meant!”
Neytiri tilts her head, amber eyes soft but firm. “You do care,” she says plainly. “Or you would not burn yourself so. You would not lie in this state, fevered and fragile, and yet think only of hiding from him. You care too much to admit it, but your body remembers, even when your mind tries to ignore it.”
Your chest tightens. You try to speak, to push her off, but only a weak, raspy whisper comes out. “…I…do not want to hear it…”
“Then do not speak,” Neytiri replies, hand settling back lightly on yours. “Do not speak. But listen anyway. Because the truth does not vanish if you refuse it. And if you push it away now, it will grow sharper later, and the hurt will last longer than the fever in your body.”
Your body trembles.
You want to argue, to curl tighter into yourself, to push every word, every explanation away.
But the heat and weakness make it impossible to move fully, impossible to escape the room or her presence.
“You think he does not care,” Neytiri continues softly, letting the words wash over you like a gentle tide. “because you heard what you heard and believed it meant rejection. That he does not want you. But it is not the whole sentence.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “I…do not want…to hear…”
Her fingers brush yours, tender, coaxing. “Then do not. But know this, he waits. Even if you refuse to listen, even if you push him away, he is here. Every moment, he is here, caring, patient, frustrated, but refusing to leave. And you…” she pauses, letting the silence stretch, “you are too stubborn to let him in, even in weakness.”
You flinch slightly, throat dry, voice cracking. "...He…said he did not want me."
Neytiri shakes her head, letting a faint sigh escape.
Her hand tightens over yours, careful, gentle.
"That is not the whole of what he meant."
Neytiri's other hand rests gently on your forehead, brushing damp hair back. “you only heard half,” Neytiri whispers. “You do not know the fear, the restraint, the care that follow those words. You felt rejected but it was only his fear spoken poorly. Not disdain. Not absence of feeling. Only caution…clumsy and human.”
You close your eyes again, stubbornness and weakness warring in your chest. "...I need time."
"Then let it wait," she says. "But remember he is here. He is not leaving. He waits. He will not force you. But he will not be dismissed."
Outside the doorway, you hear the soft scrape of his feet as he shifts. You can feel the tension even before his voice breaks the silence. "Y/n..."
You huff, almost in frustration, even in your fevered haze. "..Go away."
Jake pauses. You hear his exhale, low and pained.
“...l can't," he says, voice rough, barely a whisper. “..Not when you're like this."
You squeeze your eyes shut. "...l do not want you here."
A heavy silence follows.
Neytiri tightens her grip on your hand. "He only waits," she whispers. "He only waits. But soon, you will have to hear him. And you will not be able to ignore him forever."
Neytiri’s gaze softens, patient. “…. Both of you are tethered by care and fear. He will return. And when he does, perhaps you will listen.”
With that, she rises.
The sound of her feet on the wooden floor is soft, careful, and she slips out the hut, leaving you alone.
The silence presses in.
The heat of your fever, the ache of your stubbornness, the weight of Neytiri’s words.. all collide in your chest.
Your body shivers, weak, fevered, trembling under the blanket.
Neytiri’s words echo in your mind.
‘He is here…He is not leaving…He only waits…That is not what he meant…’
Your chest tightens at the memory, your mind running over her words again and again.
You want to ignore it, to shove it away like you shoved Jake out, but it lingers like a shadow, pressing against your fevered thoughts.
You curl tighter, shivering, whispering to yourself. “…he said he did not want me…”
Heat and stubbornness clash in your chest.
You want to scream, to hate, to refuse to think about it.
But every memory of Jake, the worry in his voice, the pause in his step when he left, fights against your pride.
Even with the flap closed, even with your fever pressing every nerve raw, your mind won’t stop.
Neytiri’s words roll over you, jagged and persistent, leaving you trapped between anger, guilt, and the ache of knowing he truly cares.
You bury your face in the pillow, shivering, stubborn, and fevered.
You pushed him out, but you cannot push out the truth.
🐾
Days had passed since your collapse.
Your fever was gone, but the exhaustion lingered in your bones, a reminder of how fragile you’d been.
Every night, you had lain awake, fevered and stubborn, replaying Neytiri’s words, Jake’s hesitant steps outside your hut, and the echo of the phrase you’d misunderstood.
The sun hung low, casting long, golden streaks across the village.
Your feet moved with purpose, tail flicking lightly behind you, mind buzzing.
Every step was firm. Every corner of the village you passed was familiar, yet today, everything seemed charged, sharper, as if the world itself knew what you were about to do.
You needed answers.
You found him at the training grounds, leaning casually against a tree, but the tension in his posture betrayed him.
He saw you before you spoke. Amber eyes widened slightly, just a fraction, and then relief, recognition, caution.
“…Y/n,” he said softly, voice low, careful.
You stopped a few feet away, hands tightening at your sides. “…Jake,” you said, your voice steady, though your heart was pounding. “…I need to hear what you meant.”
He blinked, hesitation flickering across his face. “…I…”
You held up a hand, stopping him. “…No. I do not want excuses. I do not want you to skip around it. I’m done pretending I do not care. I need to know. Tell me what you meant when you said…that.”
His jaw tightened.
He looked down at the dirt, then back at you. “…When I said what you heard…you didn’t get the full thing. You only caught a piece. And I…God, I hate that it came out that way and it sounds awful when it’s just that part.”
Your chest tightened at the acknowledgment, the tension, the heat of the moment. “…Then say it,” you demanded, voice trembling slightly, stubborn and fevered all at once. “…I am listening.”
He swallowed, running a hand through his hair. “I…didn’t mean it the way you think.”
“I wasn’t saying I don’t want you. Not even close. I…” He paused, frustration flashing across his features.
He falters, struggling for the right words, his amber eyes locking onto yours. “…I…you don’t know how hard it’s been,” he admitted, voice low, rough, trembling just enough to betray the restraint he’d held for too long.
“…To see you every day, to want you, and not say it. Not risk it. I…kept it locked inside because I was afraid.” He continues.
“Afraid I’d scare you, afraid I’d ruin what we have, afraid I’d hurt you. And yet, I’ve wanted you. Every single day.”
You watched him, calm, steady, letting every word press into you. “…You…do want me?” you asked, voice soft, breath catching.
“God, baby…I do. I’ve wanted you from the beginning. I’ve wanted your attention, your trust…your heart. And I’ve been waiting, holding it all inside, because every time I even thought of saying it, I worried I’d scare you. And yet…here you are, standing in front of me, wanting me to say it anyway, and I…” His voice faltered, thick with restraint, yearning spilling through each pause.
“…I can’t stop myself. I can’t. I’ve wanted you. All of you. Every day, every night, since the moment I saw you. And I can’t…not want you.” He adds.
Something inside you loosened at the words, the raw yearning in his voice. “…You should have just said it,” you murmured softly, almost under your breath, more a statement than a question.
He stepped closer, careful, deliberate, amber eyes searching yours as if asking for permission.
“…I tried,” he admitted, voice full of longing. “…Every time I opened my mouth, you pushed me away, I couldn’t force you to hear it until you came to me.”
Your chest tightened. “…I am here now,” you said, voice barely above a whisper, letting him feel the weight of your presence, letting him see that you were waiting.. wanting to hear him.
He exhaled sharply, then leaned in slowly, carefully, giving you every second to step back, to refuse, to test him.
You didn’t.
You didn’t move, didn’t step away, didn’t flinch.
And when his lips finally brushed yours, it was tentative at first, a question, testing.
You met him halfway, and the moment snapped.
The kiss deepened, slow, messy, and full of everything he’d been holding back.
His hands rested lightly on your waist, holding you just enough, pressing you closer without forcing, letting the heat between you speak.
Your hands found his shoulders, gripping slightly, heart pounding, as if every beat was answering the ache he’d just confessed.
Every moment of silence, every day of longing, poured into this single kiss.
When you finally pulled back just enough to see him clearly, amber eyes dark with want and restraint, he whispered, “…I’ve wanted this…wanted you…every day.”
He closed the distance again, just enough for his forehead to rest against yours, breath mingling with yours.
“…And I’ll keep showing you,” he murmured, voice rough, low, and full of longing. “…Every day, baby. I’ll never stop.”
You looked at him, steady, heart still pounding, and for a long moment, said nothing.
Then, softly, almost like a whisper meant only for him
“…oel ngati kameie. ”
You hold his gaze. “I see all of you..”
The words, simple as they were, shattered the tension between you.
He leaned in slowly, careful but impossible to resist.
Your lips met his again, soft at first, a gentle brush, and then fiercer, desperate, a release of all the days you’d spent apart, all the longing held back, all the want finally spilling over.
You pressed closer, fingers threading through his hair, tails brushing together, heartbeats pounding in sync.
The kiss deepened, slow and sweet, tinged with heat and honesty, until it was impossible to tell where one of you ended and the other began.
When you finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, your foreheads resting together, you whispered again, almost shyly, “…I see you.”
“And I see you,” he breathed back, amber eyes soft and blazing at once. “…Always.”
For the first time in days, maybe weeks, the silence between you felt alive instead of empty.
The forest, the village, the world itself seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you.
Seen. Known. Wanted.
And finally, completely, together.
Originally ‘Not now. Not ever.” Was supposed to be a oneshot but i was asked for a pt2 so i tried my best!
I have about 4 other stories drafted up they just need MAJOR editing… so be ready for that!
Let me know what you think and tysm for reading! ❤️
