kitty

[eywas-stargirl]

Son of Mine

dad!lo'ak x fem!reader

-first time dad lo'ak greets his son

word count: 1.3k

Lo'ak's hand was stiff.

A numb ache, hot and pulsing from where you had gripped it with your own. He would not be surprised if you had broken it with the sheer strength you had poured into him. But he did not complain, no. He would let you do it again, let you clamp onto his fingers, let you break them—break his whole hand—while you screamed in agony, voice drowning out Mo'at's words of encouragement. He would let you do whatever to him you pleased, for no harm to him could ever match the searing pain of labour you had endured.

He had been present for all 12 painstakingly long hours of active labour. The thought of leaving your side never once crossed his mind. Not when you screamed, not when you cried, and not when you gripped him like he was your lifeline and dug your nails into his flesh.

He tried not to show it, but he was terrified the entire time. Not of you. Never of you, but for you. The difficulties of birth were not lost on him. The blood, the shock, the exhaustion were most of what plagued his thoughts. What was even more daunting was the fact that the baby inside of you was more difficult than other na'vi children would have been. Because the baby was part him. Part human. That human gene that gave avatars more muscle mass also carried on to their children. That had terrified him, the thought of you pushing out a child much bigger than your body could handle. The thought of you not being able to do it. The thought of you succumbing.

But now the screaming had stopped, and the tsahik's tenth was filled with only the metallic scent of blood and the musk of sweat as you lay on the fibre-brown cot, back propped up against thick dark furs. Your sweat and tear-stained face was now soft, eyes half-lidded in adoration looking down at your slow-rising chest where the newborn babe was pressed against it.

Your baby.

Your son.

His son.

The baby slept quietly against you, comforted by the connection of your kurus, no longer wailing at the audacity of being forced into the world. He was round and soft with all that human fat that had caused you too much trouble the last few hours, thicker in ways normal na'vi babes would be slim.

Lo'ak's eyes searched that round little face, moving from his chubby cheeks to pouty lips, then higher up above his eyes.

No brows.

Lo'ak's chest stilled, breath hitching.

No brows.

The babe's face was devoid of any extra hairs that had plagued Lo'ak's face his entire life. For a second, a palpitating sense of relief washed over him, relief at knowing his child would not be subjected to the cruelties of words those hair brought on. The mocking, the sneers, all of it. The kind of silent scrutiny that lingered in crowds wherever he went.

Then his eyes traveled down. And there on the babe's clenched fist were five fingers. Five, short, stubby little fingers, each barely larger than a mealworm.

A disorienting flurry of feelings surfaced.

First it was fear for his son, of what the people might say or do, of what he might endure as he grew. The shame and self-hatred.

But then…there was adoration, quiet and fluffy, settling right in the middle of his chest in a ball of fuzzy warmth. Because looking now, at that little fist that housed that tiny pinky, Lo'ak knew, with all the certainty in the world, that finger could not belong to a demon. Attached to that pinky was a small, chubby newborn baby; someone who was the complete embodiment of love, the product of two hearts joining as one. That finger looked so soft and gentle and pliant. Something incapable of harm.

Pride came rushing in. Pride that there was part of him seen in his son. Pride of knowing indisputably that the babe was his—not that there was ever any doubt— and that finger was not what anyone ever told him it was. That it was not something vile and eldritch but rather adoring. How could he have ever let anyone make him believe otherwise when the truth was so clear before his very eyes?

Tears clouded his vision. It was not a burning that rushed along his waterline in quiet heartache. It was a fast and bubbling rise that quivered along his lower lashes in release of that suffocating feeling that surfaced whenever he looked at his hands.

"Ma Lo'ak"

Your hoarse voice broke him out of the spell his son had cast over him. His eyes found yours instantly. You held the babe up to him, arms lifting as much as the exhaustion that had settled in your joints would let you.

Instinctively, Lo'ak's hand raised, only slightly before stopping mid-air. It was the hesitation of a man who never knew if what he was doing was right. Hesitation that did not exist when he was a reckless boy. Hesitation that was born of blood and death and war. His hand stayed still, shackled by an invisible chain of his own making, holding him back, stopping him from crossing the distance despite your silent permission.

His eyes found yours again. Your wide, beautiful eyes, so different from his smaller ones. Those eyes that looked at him with all the adoration in the world. Those eyes that had seen him and chosen him despite what others whispered. Those eyes that softened and fluttered and gave him all the love he had craved his entire life, genuine and surreal.

"Lo'ak," your voice was a blanket, always so careful with him, wrapping him in pillowy warmth. Your lips were pulled back, smile sweet despite the corners drooping from tiredness. "You can hold him. It is okay." Lo'ak always listened to you. You were his rock, the one thing in his life that considered him completely, that held him up when his own legs refused to, folding under the pressure of his own doubt. Lo'ak owed you more than his life. Your love had saved him in ways he could not express in words. Whatever you wanted, he gave it, because you gave him everything the day you chose him. Even now, you still give him more than he deserved in the form of a sleeping babe.

Lo'ak's hand trembled, pulling against the self-imposed shackles, freeing himself and finally breaching the space between him and his son. You passed the baby off with ease, him only stirring slightly when you unlinked your kurus. The baby's weight settled in Lo'ak's arms nicely. Heavy and real. That pale blue skin of new life was plush with human fat, feeling so cushiony against his arms. The babe's rounded cheek was squished against Lo'ak's chest, his pouty lips letting out a quiet, content sigh. Lo'ak wondered if his son could hear the deep thudding of his heart, if it was comforting to his tiny ears.

Lo'ak's hand went to the babe's fist, smoothing his large thumb over the little one's knuckles. He naturally focused on that small pinky that was barely longer than his own nail, carefully opening the little hand so he could stroke it with a reverence he never thought he would have towards the finger that was just like his own. His heart skipped a beat when the babe curled its hand around his finger—his pinky, so large that those small fingers struggled to fully wrap around it.

It was then the tears finally fell, brushing against his cheek in a light, cool rush. He tipped his head down, bringing his lips closer to the babe's ear, and with a soft whispering voice laced with willowing devotion, he welcomed his son.

"Ma Lanak"

[l-auteur-fleur]

Fruits of a Blissful Morning

Pairing: jake sully x wife!na’vi!reader

Description: You share a, somewhat, quiet morning with your husband, three babies, and a whole lot of fruit.   

Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warning: no real plot, takes place between avatar 1 and 2, established relationship, co-sleeping, reader is afab, breastfeeding, eating, Lo’ak is about 3 months, Neteyam and Kiri are about a year and a half-ish, fluff, domestic life, (let me know if i missed anything !) 

Author's Note: i’m so sorry i’ve been so inactive 😭 i hope you enjoy this one !! it’s been sitting in my pile of wips for a really long time. pray i get my mojo back ! i miss writing and enjoying it !

divider by @saradika-graphics

A rare quiet had settled over the Sully kelku (home), with all of its members piled into a large, sturdy hammock, nestled in the back of the dwelling. Jake slept with his back to the outside world, curled around his wife and his three small children. Kiri dozed soundly, tucked into her father’s chest, while Neteyam laid by your shoulder, his steady wispy breath tickling your ear.    

The silence was broken when small whines came from the baby on your other side, turning into cries and waking you from a light sleep. Jake shifted beside you as you gathered Lo’ak into your arms and cooed softly, wiping the tears from his azure cheeks. 

Sleepily, you helped him latch, smoothing over his hair covered brow as he drank with fervor. Always hungry and consequently filling out quickly, your youngest son made you wonder what your mate looked like as a child. Glancing at Jake, whose half-lidded eyes watched you intently, you were quite certain Eywa had blessed you with a glimpse.

You kissed Lo’ak’s four-fingered hand as he lifted it up to touch your face. His small tail curled around your wrist like it always did when you held him. Wide, yellow eyes peered up at you over the swell of your breast, sparkling as the rising sun filtered through the woven canopy above and danced across his stripes. 

Jake was quick to place a hand on your arm when you attempted to sit up, taking Lo’ak from you and climbing out of the hammock. Jake let you rest when he could, knowing his duties as Olo’eyktan sometimes kept him away, and loving quiet mornings with his children. Especially after a bad night, when his dreams brought back memories that he would rather leave behind. Despite the lack of sleep, seeing their sweet faces and caring for them kept you both present and, most of all, thankful. 

Your mate rocked the prrnen (baby) with the practiced movements of fatherhood, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and you settled back down. With him gone, Kiri stretched out to fill the space and Neteyam stirred. He pushed himself up, standing with his eyes still closed but holding his arms out to you. You laughed at the sight and gently pulled him down onto your chest. He rubbed his face against your sternum, patting your sides with his small hands as. 

You snuggled with your toddlers in the hammock as Jake sat with Lo’ak on the opposite side of the marui (dwelling), beside the large entrance. The morning sun lit them in a bright, hazy glow and it was almost like a dream. You drifted in and out of sleep until the sound of Lo’ak’s full-bellied laughter rang out in your home. 

The sound made your eyes fly open and your heart soar. 

Jake was hunched over Lo’ak, who grasped strands of his father’s long hair in chubby hands. Laughter floated out of your son’s mouth as Jake blew soft raspberries on the small boy’s round stomach. The still-novel sound was like music to your ears. Of all the songs that Eywa had written, it was your favorite. Jake’s own low and breathy chuckle only made it sweeter, like a beautiful harmony. 

Jake’s tail swished excitedly behind him and his gaze rose to meet yours. His eyes sparkled with pride and awe, but his smile was smug. As if Toruk Makto needed anything else to pad his ego, it happened that he was the only one who could make little Lo’ak laugh. You sent him a pointed look with feigned offense, not meaning it at all, and received a wink in return. 

Jake continued playing with Lo’ak as Neteyam and Kiri took turns at your breast. You hummed a simple song over them, welcoming the day with a thankful prayer. When they were content, you helped them climb down from the hammock and watched as they ran to their sempu (dad). He held his free arm out to sweep them into his embrace. 

You would have stayed abed in the hammock, watching the blissfully domestic scene, if it were not for your growling stomach and the fact that Jake was severely outnumbered. Unhurriedly, you swung your legs over the side of the swaynivi (family hammock), securing a shawl around your shoulders before pushing off toward the baskets of food. 

Crouching, you put together a leaf plate full of an assortment of fruits that made your mouth water. Desperate to satiate your seemingly neverending hunger, you munched on the ripe fruit and listened as Jake attempted to interpret your children’s babbling. An amused smile spread across your face as he conversed with them about something ridiculous that he was absolutely making up. 

You were cutting another tìhawnuwll (spartan fruit) when Kiri appeared by your side, peering down at your hands as they worked. 

“Mah-tee,” she observed, pointing at the fruit.

“Mauti (fruit),” you repeated, handing her a piece and smoothing down her sleep-mussed hair as she ate. 

Neteyam’s sweet voice came from behind you, repeating the word “meyam (hug)” quite demandingly. You glanced back to find him sitting in Jake’s lap, attempting to hold Lo’ak on his own. Neteyam was grinning, arms wrapped tightly around his little brother’s middle. Your lips quirked upwards at the sight. Your oldest often forgot he was still a baby himself. 

“Go to sempu (dad),” you encouraged Kiri as you stood and followed her back to Jake. 

Kiri ran and Jake watched with a smile as you neared. You held out a piece of tìhawnuwll to Jake and he took it between his teeth, catching your wrist before you could pull away and licking the juice from your fingers. 

“Thanks, baby.” He murmured, kissing your palm before letting you go. “Sleep okay?”

You settled beside him with a hum and leaned your head against his shoulder. 

“What’s Lo’ak got against sleeping these days?” Jake yawned as you ate.  

“If he is anything like his siblings, it will just be a few weeks more,” you replied, offering Jake another bite. “I hope… for our sanity.”

Lo’ak had put up a nasty fight, refusing to sleep and waking constantly throughout the night. You had gotten through similar sleep regressions with Kiri and Neteyam, but experience did not make this particular trial any easier. Such a blissful morning felt like a reward for the battle that was the night prior. 

“He's taking it like a champ, though,” Jake noted, holding Lo’ak’s small foot between his fingers and inspiring Kiri to take the other one. “He’s real happy today.” 

“Then perhaps today I will make him laugh,” you declared, meeting Jake’s gaze with confidence as you barred your children from knocking the leaf plate off your lap and onto the woven floor. 

His brows lifted and his head titled as he regarded you with playful skepticism. “Good luck with that.” 

You swatted his arm and Jake’s amused laugh was almost a snicker. 

“Do you doubt me, husband? I will have you know that Lo’ak smiles at me all the time,” you informed him. 

Jake shook his head. “Not the same.” 

You leveled a look at your mate. “It means he might laugh. And it could be today.”

Jake’s smile softened and his mouth opened to speak, but Lo’ak squawked instead. The little one kicked his feet free from Kiri and Jake’s captivity and Neteyam patted Lo’ak’s belly in an effort to sooth him.

Unfazed, Kiri stood from her crouched position and moved between your legs. She took some fruit from the plate in both hands and offered them to you. It was your turn to laugh as she tried to maneuver two handfuls of fruit into your open mouth. 

“Thank you, sweet girl,” you managed while chewing.

Kiri beamed and turned, plopping down in your lap, occasionally gesturing for more fruit by sticking her hand out. Jake was smoothing a hand over Neteyam’s thick, dark hair when you saw the boy eyeing the plate of fruits from his confined spot. Neteyam leaned toward you, taking Lo’ak with him, his small mouth open as wide as it could get.   

“Here ya go, pal.” Jake took a few pieces from the plate and held them within the boy’s reach in his open palm.

Neteyam munched gratefully, sticky hands touching everything they should not, including Lo’ak’s hair. But your youngest was much too occupied with attempting to grab Neteyam’s share to notice.

The leaf plate’s contents quickly dwindled to nothing and you found yourself cutting more fruit at your children’s request for nì'ul (more). Squeals and giggles lifted into the air as Jake chased Kiri and Neteyam around the marui (dwelling) while they waited, holding Lo’ak out before him like a flying beast. Maybe even Toruk himself. 

Your children definitely inherited their affinity for fruit from you. You hummed in delight as you sampled each one you added to the plate, taking the time to fill your stomach while you could. Before little hands laid waste to the sweet nourishment. They all ran to you when you sat back down with the replenished fruits, flushed and eager to eat.    

“Eywa, this family will surely eat all the fruit in the forest,” you mused, smiling fondly with a full heart, if not a full belly.

masterlist thank you for reading !

taglist: @junebugonjupiter @wiilddogs @riristarrrr @itskekeelise @aizawash0e @wooperdedenne

click to see the full visual aid for the Sully family’s sleeping arrangement drawn by yours truly (LOL)

[fireflynavi]

Mangkwan Jake ❤️🖤

Thinking I might need to do a short fic surrounding this look 😮‍💨

[junebugonjupiter]

The Place the Eye Does Not See | Mangkwan!Jake Sully

This is a prequel to my fic, Ashes to Ashes. You can read this first if you have not read the other one!

Word count: 4.5k

Pairing: Jake Sully x f!mate!reader

Description: In the wake of disaster, you take extreme measures to ensure the survival of your clan and your mate's rise to power.

Content Warnings: AU where the Omatikaya took the place of the Mangkwan and became ash Na'vi. Deranged!reader, Tsu'tey lives, severed kuru, reader and Jake become insane and power hungry.

Author's note: THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE! I love Mangkwan!Jake and this AU very much! Leave me requests in my inbox if you have any ideas for this universe! Thank you Lumi and Finnie for giving me feedback and helping me spot mistakes! I appreciate you both sm!! @lumilily @lejardinfleur

Your eyes felt heavy and laden with unshed sorrow as your attention was pulled up to the man standing in front of your seated form. Ash drifted through the stagnant air. The trees were bare and burnt, black bark now taking the place of colorful vines that used to grow in abundance. 

The man you had once thought to be a demon, now looked more like an angel, as he crouched and handed you a cracked, hollowed out gourd of water. The liquid was warm and tasted like smoke, but it still helped clear your throat as it traveled down. 

Jake watched with cold and steely eyes as you swallowed each drop, the water running down your chin and chest made rivets of blue appear through the ash that covered your skin in thick sheets.

“Home tree still burns,” he said lowly and you stilled at the news. “It’s spread for miles, it’ll be here in a few days.”

“Then we cannot stay,” you surmised and he nodded. You glanced around at the crowds of people still grouped together. 

Your once mighty clan was now reduced to refugees and wanderers. The Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk were dead, one killed in the fall of Hometree, and the other dead from the missile that had taken down the Tree of Souls. Nearly two hundred more Omatikaya had joined them, most fallen in battle, others killed by debris or Hometree itself. What had once been your home, had become your graveyard.

Hundreds of Na’vi from other tribes were dead and wounded. Some still alive were scattered among you now, but the other stragglers had attempted to flee home. You would have once prayed for their safe return, but your faith in the Great Mother was diminished to ash, just like your forest. The thought of praying to her, after what she had done to you, made anger swell in your chest. What did you owe her that she had not already taken? What more was there to give? 

Where was Eywa when skypeople shot at your kin? Where had she been when they had cut the Na’vi down as if you were blades of grass? If Eywa held her children in her heart, then you must not be one of hers. Perhaps she had forsaken the Omatikaya for a new love. She had picked a side today. 

You hoped the skypeople enjoyed her favor as you once had. 

If she would not save you, then you would have to save yourself. You felt the thought settle in your heart like comfort or something soft, the reminder that this fight was not over. Despite the bleeding gash across your shoulder, you were not dead yet.

“They need someone to lead them,” you whispered softly to Jake over the cries of grief and agony.

His eyes narrowed, “Tsu’tey is-” but you stopped him before he could get too far. You needed him to step up now, for all of your sakes.

“No, Tsu’tey is unable to lead in his condition. You are Toruk Makto,” you reminded him, nodding to where Tsu’tey laid on the scorched ground. Neytiri crouched over him as she used a dead Na’vi’s clothing to tie a tight bandage over his bullet wound. His fate was entirely up in the air, his condition wavering each minute.

“They won’t listen to a skyperson,” Jake argued, watching as a woman sobbed over a toy, her child no longer there to play with the wooden Pa’li (direhorse).

“They will listen to Rider of Last Shadow. Eywa is no longer in this place, the humans have driven her away. You are the last gift she gave us, our last hope now. You must lead,” you insisted. The evening sky used to draw out the light of Jake’s tanhì (bioluminescent freckles), but ash now blocked the glow.

His eyes fell down to the gray dirt, but you forced his chin back up with your knuckle. “You betrayed us before, so now you must stay to make amends. You were weak then, but you have changed. I have seen it grow in you,” you demanded. Jake’s jaw clenched in anger or shame, you were not sure, but either would serve you now.

“I will forge you into something better, something stronger. Listen to me, follow my words, and we will bring down the humans. We can lead this clan back to what it once was, but only if you are at my side. The people need you to be strong… I need you to be strong.”

He dragged his eyes up to meet yours and the resolve filling them now had hope flickering once more in your chest. “I am with you,” he said steadily. “I am always with you,” he promised and you nodded. 

“Good,” you breathed, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Then you know what needs to be done.”

He nodded, “Will you translate?” he asked.

“Yes,” you agreed, and he took your awaiting hands, tugging you up with him into a standing position. You led him to stand in front of the group of people, so small compared to your former strength.

He looked at you for reassurance, but you would not coddle him. Your steely gaze bored into him as you nodded. “Na’vi!” he finally called out to the people. 

Weary, bloodshot eyes looked up to him as he gripped his hands into fists at his sides. “The demons have won this battle, but they have not won the war,” he started as you translated it into the language of Pandora.

The people shifted, their hollow eyes betraying how bone tired and weary they were, but they perked up at his words. “They have killed the Great Mother, caused her to flee from this land. But all is not lost, our strength is each other.”

As you spoke in Na’vi, you saw Neytiri stumble to her feet, leaving Tsu’tey on the hard floor as she looked at you both with a shocked stare. Jake continued as the people started sitting up. 

He was visibly growing in confidence as he spoke and you felt something akin to relief or pride sweep over you. Perhaps you would not have to coach him so heavily, he seemed more ready than you had imagined. 

“We need to regroup, heal, find shelter and food,” he listed, “All able bodies should step forward. The young and the old will have to look after the wounded. I need hunters to travel to find food and others to find water. We will need to build shelters,” he explained with a tone that demanded respect.

So the rebuilding began. Warriors who remained relatively unscathed had mounted their ikran to ride away from the skypeople’s fires to find any beasts to slay or plants to forage for food. Those who had minor injuries were sent to collect water from the river that once ran beside Hometree, but now they would have to travel far to reach it.

When you had turned to Jake for your own assignment, he just shook his head, “Stay here, Baby. Help the wounded and start on some shelters. Your shoulder doesn't need any stress on it,” he said and you bit back a protest. 

You needed to be on his side completely, not show any resistance, play the long game. Besides, you needed time to think. You could do mindless work here while you planned your next moves. You nodded demurely, “Thank you, Jake. You take such good care of me,” you cooed, a hand finding his shoulder. 

He gave a half-hearted smile, “of course, Baby.”

When he and the other warriors came back hours later, the supplies were few and you realized with sudden urgency that your people needed to move. They would die if they stayed here. 

But before you could go, there was one thing that had to be done. 

 “Jake,” you asked softly, coming up to him where he was helping unload the sparse, bloodied meat that they had collected. 

He turned to you, ears pointing up as his face softened. “Hey.”

You smiled back, although it was tight lipped. “I know you have gone through much today, but your human body must be dealt with,” you informed him. 

“What?” he asked, looked taken aback by your current focus.

“You are weakened by it. As of now, you are tied to a body that depends on machines. Anything could go wrong, and regardless, soon, you will run out of air. We need to do a transfer.”

“I don’t know,” he said, looking torn at the prospect.

You stepped back, eyes wide at his hesitance. “Do you not love me? Do you not want to stay with me?”

“Of course I do,” he insisted, “That’s not it.”

“Then you will transfer today, or you will never see me again,” you ordered, turning on your heel to go find Neytiri. 

You were pleased when Jake caught up with you, grabbing your wrist as he tugged you back. “No, hey, I’m sorry. You’re right. I'll do the transfer,” he relented and your lips cracked into a blinding smile. 

“I knew you would make the right choice, yawnetu (loved one),” you fawned, leaning forward to peck him on the lips. “Come, arrangements need to be made.”

You and Jake found Neytiri in the same spot, tending to Tsu’tey and a few others who would likely not make the night. “Neytiri, we have a problem,” you said, as you and Jake sat next to Tsu’tey’s unconscious body.

“We have many problems,” she agreed. The Tsakarem’s eyes flitted between you and Jake as she nodded once for you to continue. 

“My human body is on borrowed time. I need to transfer my mind like Mo’at tried with Grace, except this time… I really need it to work,” Jake huffed sardonically. Neytiri’s eyes widened and you rushed to speak. 

“Will you perform the ceremony?” you asked, mentally pleading with her to say yes. “Is this even possible?” you asked, leaning in with furrowed brows as Neytiri nodded, looking resigned. 

“Yes, but it will not be easy. The only connection with Eywa left in the forest is miles away, it will take hours to reach. Jake will not last long in this body,” she agreed. “I will do this, but we must go now,” Neytiri insisted.

“Then let’s get it done,” Jake agreed, slinging his gun over his shoulder by its strap and standing up. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You will have to travel in your human body,” you realized, chewing your lip nervously as you thought over the logistics. 

“That won’t work,” he insisted. “My legs… I can't travel across this terrain.”

You cocked your head, “Is your faith in me so brittle? I think I have an idea.”

Several hours later, you were on a Pa’li, with Jake’s small human body pressed to your front. Neytiri was just behind you on her own Pa’li. Jake’s unconscious, Na’vi body was strapped to the back of her beast. You were both picking your way through the smokey haze of the forest, or at least, what was left of it.

Jake barely said a word through his clear mask and you did not say anything either. It felt too weird to see him in his pink skin and odd human clothes. It felt so much more real to be confronted with his humanity in this way. His metallic smell was a hundred times stronger like this, and the stench was giving you a headache. 

You glanced behind you to where Neytiri was grimacing at the smoke in the air. A small part of you, the jealous part, was satisfied to see that not an inch of Jake was touching Neytiri and she seemed to not be paying him any mind. 

You turned back to the small human that was supposed to be your mate. The sight of him made your stomach roll, but you tried to hide your disgust for his sake. You leaned forward to speak to him without Neytiri hearing. “Let this weak, human part of you die, Jake. Be reborn into something terrible and strong,” you whispered into the shell of his pink ear. 

He paused, processing your words before he nodded. “I’ll be whatever you need me to be,” he promised. 

Once at the tree, you set Jake down at its base before you helped Neytiri lower his avatar form to the ground. He was heavy and it took both of you to pull him to the root covered dais, but finally you placed his unconscious form into position. Jake moved to be laying the opposite way of his avatar and laid down with his back flat to the rock. 

You knelt down beside him and leaned over his body. "When you see her, tell Eywa that I will not forgive what she has done," you hissed, eyes aflame with underlying, yet glowing rage. 

Jake did not say anything in response. How could he even begin to know what to say? He just nodded grimly and pressed his lips together. You smiled kindly, a glimmer of the woman he had fallen in love with peeking through. “Thank you, Yawnetu. Come back to me.”

“I will,” he agreed, reaching up to cup your cheek with his small hand. 

“We must begin,” Neytiri interrupted, and you nodded. 

“Then begin.”

When Neytiri began chanting, the vines slowly began to glow and stretch over both of his bodies. They covered who he was and is and had yet to become, making your heart squeeze in anticipation for something new to emerge from the ashes of this defeat. 

You waited as Neytiri pleaded with Eywa, something you refused to do. You would not ask her to do what you were already owed. It was her who should be pleading with you for forgiveness.

You hovered expectantly, caught between love and rage, as you waited for Jake. 

It felt like an eternity, but Jake’s human body slowly stopped breathing. You placed a hand over Jake’s Na’vi heart, hoping for a thump, but there was only stillness. You waited a moment more, but eventually Neytiri stopped praying. 

Your burning, panicked eyes flew up to her. “Why have you stopped?” you demanded. 

“I am sorry, ‘eylan (friend). I do not think it has worked,” Neytiri said, dismayed. 

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give in so easy to defeat. You gripped his chin, jerking it up so he would face you, but there was no breath on his lips. “No,” you muttered. If he was not to be born from love and patience, then he would be born from violence. 

You took your other hand, balled it into a fist, and brought it down on his chest hard. “Jake, wake up, you skxawng,” you cried out in desperation. Neytiri leaned back, wary of your methods and your anger. 

Still, despite your effort, his face was slack. Neither air nor a heartbeat had moved in either body for what was growing into minutes.

“You promised you would come back! You will not leave me this way!” you ordered. You screamed in frustration, ripped your hand away from his face and brought it down with your other fist, pounding on his chest with all the force in your body. 

With a stuttering gasp, Jake’s eyes flew open and breath filled his lungs. 

You let out a relieved sigh. Your rage had brought him back to you.

One month later:

You and Jake had begun moving the remains of your small camp forward. Less than a hundred Omatikaya remained, yet you had created a small community from the barren wasteland you had been left with. 

Animals had been hunted, their meat used to feed the people and their hides creating shelter after being strung between dead, charred trees.

Other homes had been fashioned to stand freely and people found or fell into roles. The mantles of Tsahìk and Olo’eyktan were usurped by you and Jake. You did not ask permission or put it to a vote, you simply stepped into the role. Anyone who did not like it would be dealt with, but so far, no one had voiced their concerns. 

You slathered a mixture of ash and clay and water on your skin, creating a paste that would absorb the harsh rays of sun. You had heard of people in the plains using paint and mud to keep the sun from burning their skin, but you had thought it to be strange at the time. You always had your forest to keep you protected with its lush canopies and thick foliage to shield you from the elements. 

Now there were only stumps where the giant trees used to be. Only white ash where plants and life had once thrived. Your skin burned quickly if there was nothing between it and the sun.

“We need guns, equipment, explosives,” Jake mused, looking over the maps he had crudely drawn on animal hide. 

You looked up from the bowl on the ground to your mate who was hunched over his plans. Your kelku was the largest in the small village. Jake had ordered it to be made precisely how you would like it, and much of the finer details were handled by him directly. You had quickly learned that he was a doting mate.

“Then it must be sought, Ma Jake,” you replied, rubbing a paint covered hand over your chest and shoulders. 

He looked up. “A raid would be suicide,” he responded. 

You cocked your head and beckoned him closer. He pushed aside his plans and padded over to you, letting you pull him down to his knees in front of your kneeling body. 

You dipped your hands back in the paint, bringing them to his stomach and slathering the grayish paste over it. 

“Does the fire balk or slow down at resistance? No, it takes what it needs to grow and it does not stop at the sight of its enemy. It pushes until it has conquered, as must you,” you explained, rising up to run your hands up his shoulders and neck, covering blue sin with ash until not even his tanhì would show through.

Jake narrowed his eyes, dipping his own hands in the paint as he mulled over your words. The paint was cold on your skin as his fingers dragged down your nose and cheeks. You shivered and you enjoyed the uptick of his lips at your reaction. 

“We have been looking at the fire as if it was our destroyer, but I see now the truth of it. The fire did not destroy us. Our weakness did. We let the skypeople infiltrate our lands and mine our ground, and when they came for our destruction, we had no defense strong enough. It is time we learn from our mistakes.”

“The fire took everything from us, as we must now take everything from them,” Jake surmised, looking intently at you with gold eyes as if seeking your approval.

You smiled, hands matching pace with each other as they trailed up his neck and stopped at his jaw. “Precisely. Gather a war party, take what we need and let no skyperson stop you,” you muttered encouragingly, pulling his head down so you could kiss him. His hands roamed your back, spreading more paint on the expanse of it. 

You pulled away from him when the ash on your lips got into your mouth, the taste of it bitter and cleansing. 

“We will hit them when they transfer goods. That’s when they’re most vulnerable,” Jake said, eyes still closed as your foreheads rested on each other. His eyebrows were twisted in a way that you had learned meant he was strategizing in that brilliant brain of his. 

“Hit them hard, give no mercy,” you said into the air between you. 

“No mercy,” he agreed. 

-

They rode out early the next morning. 

Jake had set out a solid game plan. Scouts had reported a train carrying supplies was on the tracks, and Jake was quick to mobilize. A party of 30 flew out and all 30 were back an hour later. They arrived with weapons, food, water stores, and even human liquor. A success all around. 

No skypeople had survived the raid. Every single one of them laid where they had died, and when the generals and commanding officers would arrive to investigate in the following hours, there would be no trace of the culprit. All arrows had been gathered from their targets and no Na’vi blood had been spilt.

The humans would have their suspicions about it being the work of the avatar defector, Jake Sully, but all they would see on the cameras was a red, gray, and black blur before the feed cut out.

In the makeshift Omatikaya village, there had been dancing and feasting that night, celebrating the small victory they had rightfully won. 

When Jake had raised a handmade cup of what he called “Vodka” in the air and toasted to you, you had never felt more appreciated. “To my Tsahìk, who is the real cause of your victory today,” Jake smiled smugly down at you where you sat lounging near the fire. You smiled, grateful for his acknowledgement, even though it was rightfully owed. 

Your eyes roved over the crowd of your people, taking in their delighted faces. Many cheered, but one man did not say a word. In fact, he did not even raise his cup. He stuck out to you like a ‘angtsìk (hammerhead titanothere) in a field of flowers. 

“Atan,” you said, a smile still on your lips as you looked at the hunter who had been trained by Tsu’tey and was one of the best warriors in Jake’s party. All heads swiveled to him as he looked up at you in surprise at being called out. “You do not agree with Olo’eyktan,” you guessed. 

He ground his teeth, but nodded. “We should not be attacking them. We do not have the strength to fight them off if they were to strike back,” he argued and your blood boiled. 

“I see,” you said, handing your cup to the woman beside you and standing with slow ease. You did not let your anger show, not yet. “And what would you have us do to the demons who killed our mothers and our fathers, our sisters and brothers. Who killed our children?”

He hesitated, glancing up at Jake, who only stared back. “I- I would have bided our time. Found another clan to join. There is strength in numbers,” he offered. 

“You think you know better than Tsahìk?” Jake growled, stepping closer and Atan’s eyes widened. 

“I know war, Olo’eyktan. That is all I know,” he corrected. 

“And we do not?” you asked, stalking up where your husband stood and joining him as a united force. 

The clan waited with bated breath at Atan’s next words.

His brow furrowed and he finally stood on legs that did not shake. “When the old Tsahìk and Olo’eyktan died, there was a clear line of succession. Tsu’tey and Neytiri have a right to lead,” he argued. 

Jake stood straighter, his broad shoulders stretching wider than any natural born Na’vi’s. He walked slowly forward, each step calculated and sure. He stood toe to toe with Atan, “That sounds a lot like treason, my friend,” Jake spoke low. “And traitors must be punished.” As quick as the wind, Jake drew his knife, reaching behind Atan and hooking it around his kuru. The braid created a loop around the blade, held taunt by Jake’s fist.

Atan’s eyes flew wide and he froze, back arched as he struggled to stay as still as possible. Pain from the action was evident in the way Atan’s eyes and jaw squeezed, but he did not cry out. Your eyes sparkled in wonder as you watched Jake perform his new role. 

“Anyone else feel this way?” Jake turned to Neytiri and Tsu’tey, bandages still wrapped around the latter's torso. Atan whimpered as his feet shuffled with Jake’s movements, careful not to move more than necessary. “When you lay dying, didn’t you give up your title to me? Have I stolen what was yours, brother?” Jake looked down at the former Olo’eyktan in feigned confusion.

Tsu’tey stared up at Jake with a thick layer of fear in his eyes. He was quiet for a long beat that stretched into moments of tension. Finally he admitted the truth. “No, Olo’eyktan. I gave up my right to lead during the battle.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Jake laughed, shaking his head, “And Neytiri, am I right in believing that as my mate, it would make sense for my wife to be Tsahìk? That is how the Na’vi do it, right? Would you wish to challenge her for the position?”

Neytiri looked terrified for Atan, her lips set in a thin line. She shook her head, “No, Olo’eyktan. I do not wish to take what is hers.” 

“No, you wouldn't, ‘cause that would be treason,” Jake agreed and Neytiri nodded, her movements frantic to please him. 

Neytiri knew in her heart she had failed her student when she had watched him fall for you, but had done nothing. Even as she saw the beginnings of who you would become, she had decided to leave it to Eywa. She now deeply regretted her compliancy all those months ago.

“So it seems like it’s just you, Atan.” Jake said to the man still in his grasp. 

You smiled maniacally at the scene before you, even as your conscious screamed. This was the point of no return.

You walked up to Atan and he stared terrified back at you. “Treason cannot be tolerated, not anymore. That is the way of things,” you explained. You glanced up at Jake who raised his brow in silent question. 

The look of horror on Atan’s face made the choice easy. You would help force him to be something stronger, something that did not rely on the old ways. 

“You will not need it, Eywa has already forgotten you.” You laid a hand on his face in a way that you hoped showed him you were only doing what was in his best interest.

You looked up at your mate, and with the slightest nod of your head, Jake pulled his obsidian blade clean through the kuru. 

Everyone stared in rapt terror as Atan fell to the ground and emitted a scream so curdling and piercing it would follow you the rest of your days. 

Jake held up the kuru like a trophy and turned in a circle so all could see. “To my Tsahìk,” he roared, turning back to you and smiling wickedly, both sets of avatar fangs on display, “who is the real cause of our victory,” he repeated.

The crowd erupted into cheers, some forced and some earned. 

You smiled back at Jake. He had proved himself to you tonight. He had been molded into something that would last, something that would protect. He had become what you had dreamed him to be.

The Great Mother had banished you to the place the eye did not see, and together, you had conquered it with roaring applause. 

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[bellamoooon]

Missing sub!art.

Send.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

credit goes to @thlaylisden ( the og creator / mastermind of Knight! Remmick )

giving birth to his son in secret..

Three years of marriage and yet there had been no heir had been born. Not a boy. Not a girl. Not even a hint of pregnancy. It weighed on your shoulders, sinking its claws into your skin. Everyone whispered of it in court, staring at your belly and wondering the same question, “What was wrong with you? Why could you not do your wifely duties and provide your husband with an heir?”

At first, you had assumed that your lack of visiting your husband’s bedchamber had been the cause. So you visited every other day, hoping that the frequent bedding would one day land you swollen with his heir. But, it didn’t. Then came the tonics and teas and old wives tales of ‘cures’ that would ‘fix you’ and your ‘little problem’. Brewing catnip with wine until it is reduced to a third of its original volume, and give it to your husband to drink on an empty stomach for three days. Taking pig's testicles and grinding them down, and drinking them with wine for three days. 

It eventually devolved into you realizing that it must have been your husband’s fault for no heir, in secret of course. He could fuck his way through brothels, from Scotland to France, and not get a single whore with child. His first marriage with some Lady of French nobility, was able to birth heirs, once it had been annulled⎯with another man, of course. Your mother and sisters had been able to birth many children for their husbands, at least six. The midwives and healers had told you the same thing, that you were healthy, capable of carrying a child to full term. There was just something ‘preventing’ it. They didn’t say it aloud, but it shifted from it being your fault to your husbands. But, he was too prideful to admit it. How could he? A lord, of all, be at fault for the lack of an heir? No, no, it had to be you, the woman who was at fault.

You needed an heir. You needed one, desperately, if not to silence the gossip of Court then to finally rid yourself from your husband. Remmick, of course, was kind throughout it all. More than a Knight probably should have. He offered comfort and prayer, despite not believing in the same God as you. He held your hand and pulled back your hair when the tonics made you ill. It was only natural that you found yourself able to speak of your desire for an heir, by any means needed. Tonics. Teas. Old wives tales. Laying with another man. Remmick shared similar enough features with your husband⎯dark hair and bright alluring eyes. No one would notice if Remmick were the one to sire a child with you. No one but the two of you. 

“I’m not supposed to be here.” Remmick clenches his jaw, avoiding eye contact with you.

“I know that.” You nod, sweat trickling down your brow. “But, you can always say that you are listening to my orders for the healers.” 

“( Y/n )..” He warns, immediately turning to you.

“My labors have begun, the child bed is now my battlefield.” You force out, trying to keep your voice steady as another wave of contractions hit you. “Should..Should I fail in this battle, promise me that you will watch over this child.”

“Don’t speak of that.”

“Remmick, I carry your child in my womb, not my husband’s.” You argue, “The handmaids, the healers, the midwives, cannot be trusted fully. They work for my husband’s coin, not mine.”

Grabbing onto the railing of the bed tightly for support to stand upright, your body moves involuntarily, your back arching as the pressure in your low gut grows from the contractions. It felt like this baby intended on clawing its way out of you. Moaning lowly as the pain grows, you dig your nails into the railing as you start to push, tears of exhaustion and pain streaming down your flushed cheeks. God, how the hell did your mother and sisters give birth to six children? Feeling his calloused hands on your back, you lean back against his chest, desperate for some kind of comfort in his moment. Shutting your eyes tightly, your thighs tremble, struggling to hold your weight.

“I won’t let you die, I can’t let you.” He whispers, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back.

“It is not like you can stop it, Remmick.” You grit your teeth in pain, “But what you can do is watch over our child if I am unable to do so. You protect them, by any means possible.”

“Don’t speak like that, like you’ve already accepted death, like you're already dead.” He pleads, his grip tightening on your sweat soaked shift.

“Remmick, you do this for me.” You force in a breath, “Promise.” 

He doesn’t respond. 

“You fucking promise me, Remmick.”

----

[slvt4agoodstory]

Y’all ever be reading a fic and realize the author made the reader a fucking bird brained bitch🐦

Like fr just be letting these men treat them however they want

[bi-n-evil]

Me seeing a fictional character be portrayed as a dom when they're literally such a sub:

[bylertruth3r]

ST5 SPOILERS

Will Byers x female reader fic

he's gay, he leaves you for Mike Wheeler, loser

stop trying to make a GAY boy straight, straight women be normal abonut gay men challenge..

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

I sincerely love it when men's eyes are etched in tragedy ✨️

[xxsweetlikecinnamonxx]

rick grimes cries during sex

send tweet.

[playdat]

Living in the Shadow of Someone They Could Never Forget

Story: After neytiri's death jakesully had new mate, but his children dislike you (except tuk) because they feel like you were replacing their mother

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

Here part 4

It had never been your intention to become part of this family.

When Neytiri died, you had been the one who stayed.

Not because anyone asked you to.

Because no one else could bear to watch Jake fall apart.

You sat with him through sleepless nights while he stared at the empty place beside him. You listened as he spoke to someone who was no longer there, his voice breaking into quiet sobs when he thought nobody could hear.

You caught him the night he nearly walked into the sea.

The memory still haunted you.

"I can't do this," he had whispered, his shoulders shaking. "I can't raise them without her."

You had grabbed his wrist before he could take another step.

"No."

He hadn't even looked at you.

"They need their father."

"They need their mother."

"And she's gone," you answered, tears filling your own eyes. "But they still have you."

For the first time...

Jake had cried in someone else's arms.

Months turned into years.

You became the one helping him wake every morning.

The one reminding him to eat.

The one patching his wounds after hunts.

Somewhere between grief and survival...

The two of you became mates.

You never asked if he loved you.

You were too afraid of the answer.

Maybe he did.

Maybe...

You were simply the person who happened to be standing beside him when the world ended.

That thought hurt more than you ever admitted.

---

The children made it obvious they had made their decision.

You were not family.

You were an intruder.

Every meal felt painfully quiet.

You would place food onto the woven table.

"Neteyam... I cooked your favorite."

"I'm not hungry."

Five minutes later...

He would eat after you left.

Lo'ak barely acknowledged your existence.

Whenever you asked him a question...

"Did you finish helping with the ilu?"

"I already did."

"Okay..."

He walked away before you could finish speaking.

Kiri was never cruel.

But she was distant.

She answered politely.

Never warmly.

Never with affection.

You couldn't even remember the last time she looked you in the eyes.

Tuk...

Sweet little Tuk...

She was the only one who sometimes forgot everyone else disliked you.

One evening she quietly sat beside you while you were sewing one of Jake's torn hunting straps.

"...Can I help?"

You smiled softly.

"Of course."

Her tiny fingers tried copying yours.

She frowned in concentration.

"I'm bad at it."

"No," you chuckled quietly. "You're learning."

She looked up.

"...You're nice."

Your heart tightened.

Before you could answer...

Lo'ak walked inside.

"Tuk."

She looked over.

"Come on."

"...I'm helping."

"You don't need to help."

His voice wasn't angry.

Just...

Cold.

Tuk looked between both of you before slowly standing.

"...Okay..."

She followed him.

Without another word.

The silence afterward felt heavier than ever.

---

Jake noticed everything.

One night he found you sitting alone outside the marui.

The waves gently rolled onto the shore.

You hadn't noticed him until he sat beside you.

"You've been crying."

"I'm fine."

"You don't have to lie to me."

You laughed quietly.

"...I think they hate me."

"They don't."

"They do."

You stared at the ocean.

"They don't even look at me anymore."

Jake rubbed his face.

"They're hurting."

"I know."

"They think loving you means betraying their mother."

His words settled heavily between you.

You whispered...

"I never wanted to replace her."

"I know."

"I couldn't."

Jake nodded slowly.

"No one could."

For a long time...

Neither of you spoke.

Then you finally asked the question that had lived inside your heart ever since you became mates.

"...Jake?"

"Hm?"

"...If Neytiri were still here..."

He froze.

The silence stretched painfully.

You immediately regretted asking.

"You don't have to answer."

Jake looked toward the stars.

"...If Neytiri were here..."

His voice almost disappeared.

"...I'd still be with her."

Your chest tightened.

"But she's not."

He finally turned toward you.

"And if you hadn't been there..."

His eyes were tired.

"...I wouldn't be here either."

It wasn't a declaration of love.

It wasn't the answer you secretly hoped for.

But it was honest.

And somehow...

That hurt even more.

---

The next morning you woke before everyone else.

You prepared breakfast.

Again.

As always.

Neteyam walked in first.

He stopped after seeing you.

For just a second...

You thought maybe today would be different.

Instead...

He quietly picked up a bowl.

Walked outside.

And ate alone.

Lo'ak followed.

Did the same.

Kiri politely thanked you without looking at your face.

Only Tuk stayed.

She smiled.

"It tastes good."

You smiled back despite the ache in your chest.

"Thank you, Tuk."

Across the village, Jake watched the quiet exchange.

His jaw tightened.

He understood his children's grief.

He missed Neytiri every day himself.

But watching the person who had held his broken life together be met with silence day after day was becoming harder to bear.

He knew healing could not be forced.

Yet he also knew that if nothing changed, one day you might stop trying—not because you no longer cared, but because carrying love that was never returned could exhaust even the strongest heart.

[beautyofattolia]

[just-another-idk]

The Eldest

Sully family x eldest daughter reader

Part 51 > Part 52 > Part 53

No Longer 7 Strong

(Y/n) woke with cold against her back and water against her cheek.

For a few seconds she could not understand where she was.

Metal groaned somewhere above her and the whole ship shuddered beneath her body, but she could not move properly, could not get her arms beneath herself, could not push up no matter how hard she tried.

Then she felt the weight. Heavy. Crushing.

Something was pinning her down across her back and legs, forcing her stomach against the wet floor, trapping her beneath twisted metal while water crept higher around her.

Her breath hitched.

Shit

She shoved one hand against the floor and tried to push herself up, her muscles straining, shoulder burning, ribs screaming as she fought against the weight holding her down.

It did not move.

She tried again.

Nothing.

Her chest tightened.

Shit, shit, shit.

She twisted, trying to drag one leg free, but the metal only shifted enough to grind painfully against her back. Something sharp stabbed into her shoulder and she cried out, the sound echoing through the flooded space before breaking into a gasp.

She was trapped.

The ship was sinking.

And she was trapped.

Panic hit so hard she nearly choked on it. She thrashed, clawing at the floor, trying to find anything to grip, anything to pull herself forward with, but the metal held her down and the water kept rising around her face. It was already at her jaw. Already lapping against her mouth when the ship tilted.

Her heart started hammering so violently it hurt.

She could not move.

Could not get up.

Could not escape.

“Dad!” she called before she could stop herself.

The word tore out of her in a broken sob. It ripped through her throat raw and desperate, dragged out by the rising water and the crushing weight on her back, by the choking panic clawing up her chest as she fought for air she could barely reach.

“Dad!” she cried again, louder this time, straining against the metal until pain flashed white behind her eyes.

No answer.

She sobbed once, sharp and frightened, the sound tearing out of her as the cold water crept higher, brushing against her lips and threatening to spill into her mouth.

Panic clawed up her throat as she realized how little space she had left, how every breath had to be forced through trembling lungs while her neck strained painfully just to keep her face above the surface.

Her muscles were already shaking from the effort, her arms useless beneath her, her body pinned and helpless as the water kept rising, inch by inch.

She tried to drag in another breath, but it came out broken and uneven, fear tightening her chest as she imagined the moment she wouldn’t be able to lift her head high enough anymore.

“Dad!”

She let out another sob, her body trembling violently as the icy water soaked through her, the cold biting deep into her bones as fear twisted in her chest—she just wanted her dad.

She could feel the water slowly clawing its way up, it crept higher against her skin, and a broken whimper slipped past her lips. She knew what was coming—knew that soon there would be nowhere left to breathe, nowhere left to go—and no matter how hard she fought, she couldn’t escape.

“(Y/n)!”

Her whole body froze.

For a second she thought she had imagined it.

Then she heard it again, distant.

Her father.

A sob broke out of her chest before she could stop it, relief and fear crashing together so hard she nearly lost the little control she had left.

“Dad!” she screamed, forcing her head higher as the water surged around her chin.

The ship groaned again and the water rushed up faster, cold spilling into her mouth. She spluttered, coughing and twisting, her fingers scraping uselessly over the floor as she tried to lift herself higher.

“Daddy!” she screamed in a sob, the word breaking apart as water surged into her mouth, choking her cry and stealing the air from her lungs.

The metal did not move.

It would not move.

Her breathing broke apart.

“DAD!”

Her voice cracked.

The water touched her lips again.

She lifted her head as high as she could, neck straining, every muscle trembling with the effort, but it still was not enough.

“Dad!” she cried, the word coming out wet and terrified as the water rose around her mouth. “Dad, please!”

(Y/n) was losing the fight to breathe.

The water surged higher, swallowing her chin, her mouth, forcing her to jerk her head back as far as she could just to keep her nose above the surface. Her neck screamed with the strain, muscles trembling violently, but she could not lower it—not even for a second.

Her breaths came in broken, panicked gasps.

Too fast.

Too shallow.

Not enough.

The water lapped at her lips again and she choked, coughing hard as it slipped into her mouth. It burned going down and she gagged, trying to spit it out, but there was nowhere for it to go.

Her whole body started shaking.

Bone-deep, uncontrollable, rattling that made her teeth chatter and her limbs twitch uselessly beneath the weight pinning her down.

“I can’t—” she gasped, voice cracking apart as another wave of water surged over her mouth. “I can’t—!”

Her chest seized, lungs screaming as she tried to drag in air that wasn’t there. Every breath felt smaller than the last, thinner, like the space around her was closing in.

She was going to drown.

The thought hit her hard and fast and absolute.

Her eyes burned, tears spilling freely now, mixing with the seawater as they ran down her face. She couldn’t even wipe them away. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but lie there and feel the water take more and more of her.

“I don’t wanna die,” she sobbed, the words breaking apart as her voice shook violently. “Please—please—”

Her head slipped for a second.

Water rushed over her nose.

She inhaled sharply on instinct and choked, coughing violently as she forced her face back up, panic exploding through her chest so hard it made her vision blur.

“Dad!” she screamed again, voice raw and desperate, barely more than a broken cry now. “Dad, please, where are you!”

Her body jerked uselessly against the metal, every muscle straining, but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t free herself. Couldn’t stop the water from rising.

It was at her nose now.

Every breath was a fight.

Every second felt like it might be her last.

And she was terrified.

Jake threw Quaritch off him with a snarl that tore from somewhere deep in his chest.

Quaritch hit the wall hard, stunned for a second, and Jake did not waste it. He dropped down into the lower level of the flooding ship, landing badly in the rising water but barely feeling the impact as he pushed forward, following the sound of his daughter’s cries.

“Dad! Dad, please, where are you!”

Her voice echoed through the metal around him, broken and terrified, and Jake felt his chest tighten so hard it almost stopped him.

“(Y/n)!” he called, water splashing around his legs as he moved faster. “Keep talking, pumpkin, keep talking!”

“Dad!”

He turned toward the sound and found her.

For a second his whole body froze.

She was pinned on her stomach beneath a huge chunk of twisted metal, her back and legs trapped under it while the water rose around her face. Her arms were braced uselessly against the floor, trembling from the effort of keeping her head up, and every breath she dragged in looked like it hurt.

“Dad!” she sobbed when she saw him. “I can’t get up.”

“I’m here, pumpkin, I’m here,” Jake said, dropping to his knees beside her so fast the water splashed up around them. “I got you.”

He shoved both hands beneath the edge of the metal and lifted.

Nothing.

He set his feet, strained harder, muscles burning as the metal groaned beneath his hands, but it barely moved. Not enough. Not even close.

Her breathing hitched harder, water brushing her lips. “Dad—”

“You just keep your head above water,” he said, voice tight as he tried to keep panic out of it. “That’s it. Keep your head up.”

“I’m trying,” she gasped.

“I know, baby girl, I know.”

And he did know.

He could see it in the shaking of her arms, in the strain of her neck, in the way her face twisted every time the ship shifted and the metal dug deeper into her. She was fighting with everything she had, and it still wasn’t enough.

Jake tried again.

He got his shoulder under it this time and heaved upward with a rough grunt, feeling the metal shift just slightly, feeling hope spark in his chest for half a second before his daughter screamed.

“Ah—ow, ow, ow, ow—ahhh!”

Jake dropped it back down at once, his heart lurching. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He scrambled around the side, hands moving over the metal, searching, trying to understand what was holding her down, and then he saw it. A jagged piece had punched down close to her shoulder and back, not clean through, not enough to kill her outright, but enough that lifting the metal wrong would tear into her.

Jake stared at it.

His blood went cold.

He did not have the strength to lift it clean off her.

Not from this angle.

Not fast enough.

Not without hurting her worse.

“Dad,” she coughed, water spilling into her mouth as she tried to breathe around it. “Please.”

Jake moved back to her side and slid one hand beneath her cheek, helping lift her head higher as the water surged around them. “I got you. I got you, pumpkin.”

The fear in her eyes nearly broke him.

His eldest.

His reckless girl.

The daughter who had charged a whaling ship and fought Quaritch with her bare hands.

She was staring at him like a scared child because the water was rising and he could not get the metal off her.

A small sound slipped out of her, a frightened little whine she tried to swallow back, and Jake felt something tear open inside him.

“No, no, look at me,” he said quickly, cupping her face as best he could. “You look at me. Keep your head up. That’s it. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

Her breaths came too fast, spluttering when water touched her lips again.

Jake looked around wildly.

There had to be something.

A pipe.

A bar.

Anything he could use to lever the metal up.

Anything.

Then Quaritch hit him from behind.

Jake slammed into the water and rolled, barely getting his arms up before Quaritch came down on him. 

“Dad!” (Y/n) screamed.

Jake twisted under Quaritch and drove an elbow into his ribs, shoving him off enough to get to his feet. The ship groaned around them, tilting harder now, the water rushing in faster as the whole place started to roll.

Quaritch lunged again.

Jake met him halfway.

They crashed into the wall, water slamming against their legs as the floor shifted beneath them. Jake grabbed him by the vest and drove his fist into Quaritch’s jaw, then again, trying to force him back, trying to end it quickly, but Quaritch caught his arm and rammed him into the railing.

(Y/n) cried out behind them.

Jake’s head snapped toward her.

The ship had tilted further, and the metal trapping her had begun to slide.

With her still under it.

The metal dragged across the floor with a grinding shriek and (Y/n) screamed, a raw sound of pain that went straight through him.

Jake’s face changed.

He turned back to Quaritch, but Quaritch was already there, slamming a fist across his cheek. Jake staggered, caught himself on the wall, and came back with everything he had. He hit Quaritch in the throat, then the ribs, then drove him backward through the rising water as the ship continued to roll.

The whole world was moving now.

Water rushed from one side of the corridor to the other, dragging debris with it. Loose tools and broken metal slid across the floor, clanging against the walls as the ship leaned harder. Jake slipped, caught himself, shoved Quaritch back, but every second he was fighting him was another second his daughter was trapped beneath that metal.

“Dad!” she cried again, weaker now, choked by water.

Jake heard it.

He heard the water in her voice.

He heard her struggling.

He heard her running out of time.

Quaritch grabbed him by the throat and drove him down into the water.

Jake fought under him, hands closing around Quaritch’s wrist as his own lungs burned.

He kicked hard, twisting sideways, and broke the hold. They surfaced together, gasping, and Jake slammed his head into Quaritch’s face before throwing a punch that sent him stumbling into the wall.

The ship rolled again.

Harder.

The floor went out from under them.

Jake tried to grab for something, anything, but the water surged across the corridor and lifted him off his feet. Quaritch slammed into him from the side and both of them were thrown backward as the ship tipped, the world turning sideways around them.

“(Y/n)!” Jake shouted.

He saw her for one terrible second.

Still pinned.

Then the ship rolled further and the rising water swallowed the corridor between them.

Then he and Quaritch were thrown into the water.

The ship rolled and the metal shifted.

The weight was still there, still crushing her, still pressing the air from her lungs as water rushed over her mouth and nose, and then the whole floor tilted beneath her and the metal groaned.

It whole ship rolled..

Her body dropped with it.

Pain tore through her back as the jagged edge scraped free and she cried out, but the sound vanished into water as the ship rolled harder and the metal finally slid off her, dragging across her shoulder before crashing down somewhere beside her.

She was free.

She was free.

(Y/n) shoved herself up with shaking arms, but the water swallowed her before she could get her feet under her. The corridor had turned sideways around her, the whole ship shifting and sinking, and she kicked hard, lungs burning as she pushed toward what looked like open space.

Debris sank around her.

Loose tools, broken panels, pieces of machinery, cables trailing through the water like vines.

She grabbed at a railing and pulled herself forward, forcing her body to move even as every muscle shook. Her back screamed. Her shoulder burned. Her chest hurt from all the water she had swallowed.

But she was moving.

That was all that mattered.

She swam past the dark shape of a sinking sub as it dropped nose-first into the depths of the ship. She tried to push around it, kicking harder, but something caught her ankle.

Her body jerked backward.

Panic shot through her.

No.

She twisted and looked down.

A cable.

A wire cord tangled around her leg, wrapped tight, connected to the sinking sub as it dragged everything with it.

(Y/n) grabbed at it with both hands, trying to pull it loose, fingers slipping against the wet cord. It tightened instead, biting hard into her skin as the sub sank lower and pulled her down with it.

She kicked.

Twisted.

Pulled.

Nothing.

Her lungs were already burning.

She needed air.

She needed to get free.

She clawed at the cable again, nails scraping, hands shaking as her body was dragged deeper through the tilted corridor. Something struck her back from above, hard enough to knock what little air she had left from her chest in a stream of bubbles.

Pain flashed through her body.

The debris kept pushing her down.

A heavy panel pinned across her back and shoulder, not as heavy as the first piece of metal but enough to force her lower, trapping her between sinking wreckage and the cable dragging at her leg.

She fought harder then.

Not carefully.

Not smartly.

Just fear.

Pure fear.

She shoved at the panel, kicked at the cord, twisted until pain tore up her side, trying to squeeze free as the water pressed around her from every direction.

Her chest seized.

She needed to breathe.

Her mouth opened on instinct and water rushed in.

She choked, body convulsing as she tried to cough underwater, tried to stop herself, tried to hold on to the last bit of air that was already gone.

Suddenly the darkness of the water became the pale dark walls of a room.

It hit her all at once—violent, disorienting, ripping through her mind like the ship tearing apart around her.

The pressure.

The choking.

The helplessness.

Her body didn’t know the difference anymore.

She wasn’t here.

She was back tin that room, strapped down, lungs burning as something forced air into her that she couldn’t take, couldn’t control. Cuffs holding her still.

The panic clawing up her throat as she tried to breathe and couldn’t—couldn’t—

Her chest seized.

Her body reacted before her mind could catch up.

She thrashed.

Her arms flung out, striking the debris around her, her legs kicking violently against the cable wrapped around her ankle. She twisted against the panel pinning her down, scraping her back raw as she tried to wrench herself free.

No no no no—

Her mind screamed it, over and over, louder than the groaning metal, louder than the rushing water.

She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her body convulsed as she tried to inhale, tried to force air into lungs that filled only with water. The sensation overlapped—air that burned, water that drowned—until she couldn’t tell which was real anymore.

Her hands clawed at nothing.

At everything.

At the cable, at the panel, at the water itself like she could tear it away from her face.

Her movements only made it worse.

The cable tightened.

The debris shifted, pressing harder into her back.

Her thrashing burned through what little strength she had left, draining her faster, faster—

But she couldn’t stop.

Her body wouldn’t let her.

Her mind was trapped, turning the panic into something unbearable.

Her chest spasmed violently.

Water rushed in.

Her vision fractured, flickering between now and then—dark water, bright lights, hands, metal, nothing making sense.

She kicked again.

Weaker.

Her arms slowed, movements jerking and uncoordinated as exhaustion crashed into her all at once.

The panic didn’t fade.

Her strength was fading.

Her thrashing turned to trembling.

Then to small, desperate movements.

Then to nothing at all.

No, no, no.

She kicked again.

Weaker this time.

Her hands found the cord and pulled, but her fingers did not close properly. They felt numb. Heavy. Useless.

Her vision blurred.

She thought of her father, his hand under her cheek, holding her head above water.

I got you, pumpkin.

A sob tried to rise in her chest, but there was no air left for it.

She tried to move again.

Her body barely listened.

The cable dragged tighter.

The panel pressed harder.

Her lungs screamed until the screaming turned dull, until the panic started to feel strange and distant, until her limbs stopped thrashing and only twitched weakly against the water.

She did not want to stop fighting.

She tried to tell herself to move.

To kick.

To pull.

To do anything.

But her body was so tired.

So cold.

Her hand slipped from the cable.

Bubbles drifted from her mouth.

Her eyes fluttered, half-open, staring up through the wreckage toward the dim light above.

Dad.

The thought was small.

Fading.

Then her strength gave out.

Her body went still beneath the sinking debris as the ship groaned around her, dragged down into the dark with the sub and the broken pieces of the wreck.

Underwater, Jake got Quaritch in a headlock and held on with everything he had left.

Quaritch thrashed hard at first, elbowing back into Jake’s ribs, clawing at his forearm, trying to wrench free, but Jake only locked it tighter. His bicep burned. His lungs were already screaming. His vision was starting to pulse at the edges from the lack of air and the blood pounding in his skull, but he did not let go.

Not this time.

Not with his daughter somewhere in this ship.

Not after Neteyam.

Quaritch’s movements got weaker.

Then weaker still.

Then his body finally went slack in Jake’s arms.

Jake held on another second anyway, just to be sure, jaw clenched so tight it hurt, before he shoved him away. Quaritch’s body drifted downward through the water, limp and heavy, disappearing into the dark beneath the wreckage.

Jake didn’t watch him go.

He turned at once, chest already heaving around air he didn’t have, and looked for his daughter.

The ship was almost fully underwater now. The corridors had become a graveyard of floating debris and sinking machinery, dim emergency lights casting everything in a sick red glow. Panels drifted loose. Cables swayed in the current. A whole section of the wall had torn open somewhere nearby and the water kept dragging everything toward it.

Jake pushed off and swam.

He was running out of air.

His lungs were beyond burning now. Every second without a breath made his chest feel tighter, heavier, like something was caving in from the inside. But he kept going, searching through the wreckage with frantic eyes, one hand pushing debris aside as he moved deeper into the belly of the ship.

(Y/n).

Where are you.

His eyes caught movement near the bottom.

Not movement.

A body.

His daughter.

Jake stopped for half a second and the world inside him dropped out.

She was at the bottom of the corridor, caught beneath a panel and tangled to a sub by the cord wrapped around her leg, her body limp in the water, hair drifting around her face. She wasn’t fighting anymore. Wasn’t moving. Wasn’t trying to get free.

Jake kicked for her so hard his legs cramped. His whole body lurched forward through the water and when he reached her he grabbed at the panel first, trying to rip it off her back, but it was wedged at an angle and his hands slipped on the metal.

He tried again.

Nothing.

His chest seized.

He planted both feet against the floor and hauled at it with everything he had left, muscles trembling, arms shaking violently from exhaustion and lack of air, and this time it shifted just enough for him to wrench it free and shove it aside.

His daughter didn’t move.

Jake grabbed her shoulders at once, turning her slightly toward him, one hand catching her face.

Her eyes were closed.

Her mouth parted.

Still.

Panic crashed through him so hard it made him clumsy.

He reached for the cord around her leg and started unwinding it with numb fingers, fighting the way it had twisted around itself. It was caught tight, dragged under the sub’s frame and looped around her ankle twice, and Jake’s hands would not work fast enough. They shook too hard. His vision kept pulsing. He could feel the last of his air shredding inside his chest.

Come on.

Come on.

He yanked harder and the cord slipped loose once, then snagged again, and Jake could feel himself starting to fade. His lungs convulsed around nothing. His body wanted to breathe so badly it was becoming pain, a brutal instinct clawing through him.

But he could not leave her.

Not like this.

Not his daughter.

He got the cord off her ankle at last and pulled her toward him, one arm wrapping around her chest, but when he tried to kick upward his body barely answered. He was too deep. Too tired. The ship was dragging down around them and Jake could not tell where the way out was anymore.

He looked up.

Everything blurred.

Dark water. Red lights. Floating wreckage. No airlock. No surface. No miracle waiting for him.

His chest spasmed hard.

His mouth opened on instinct and he forced it shut, a strangled groan trapped somewhere in his throat as black spots burst across his vision.

He clutched (Y/n) tighter.

I’m sorry.

The words weren’t spoken. Couldn’t be. But they were there all the same, loud and desperate inside his head as he tried one more time to kick upward and got almost nowhere.

I’m sorry, pumpkin.

His grip on her tightened.

He thought of Neteyam on the rocks.

His son.

I want to go home.

He had failed him.

And now he was down here with his daughter limp in his arms and no air in his lungs and he could feel his body starting to shut down.

No.

Please.

Not her too.

Not like this.

He pressed his forehead weakly to the side of her head for one brief second, eyes squeezing shut as the last of his strength bled out of him.

I’m sorry, pumpkin.

I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out.

I’m sorry, son.

The thought of Neteyam came again, sudden and crushing, and with it came that image Jake knew he would never stop seeing for as long as he lived—his boy on the rocks, gasping for breath, begging to go home.

Then the pressure in Jake’s chest snapped.

His body convulsed.

Water rushed in.

His hold on his daughter never loosened, but his strength did.

The fight went out of him all at once, his limbs turning heavy, his vision dimming until the red lights of the sinking ship blurred into darkness.

Still holding (Y/n) against him, Jake Sully lost consciousness and sank with her into the dark.

Lo’ak went back into the wreckage for his father because there was no way in hell he was leaving without him.

Every corridor he swam through felt tighter than the last, darker, fuller with debris and sinking wreckage. The lights kept flickering in that sick red pulse that made everything look worse, made the blood in the water look darker, made the bodies and twisted metal seem to lurch in and out of existence every time the light cut out. Lo’ak’s chest was already tight from the last breath hold, his shoulder burning, his whole body still shaking from Neteyam’s blood on his hands and the sight of his brother gasping on the rocks.

He shoved that thought down.

Had to.

Because if he let himself think about Neteyam right now he would freeze, and he could not freeze.

He found them near the bottom.

His father was there, half slumped in the water, twitching weakly, one arm still locked around (Y/n) like even unconscious he had refused to let her go. His sister floated limp in his grasp, hair drifting around her face, and for one terrible second Lo’ak just stared.

Because it was obvious what had happened.

His dad had found her.

His dad had used the last of his strength trying to save her.

And it still had not been enough.

Lo’ak’s stomach twisted so hard he thought he might be sick right there in the water.

He did not know who to save first.

His father was alive.

He thought his father was alive.

(Y/n) was still.

Too still.

Lo’ak’s hands shook as he reached them, and for a second, he almost went for her, though something in him hesitated longer than it should have, but his dad twitched again and Lo’ak made the choice he hated himself for.

He grabbed Jake under the arm and hauled.

The drag nearly tore his shoulder out. His father was dead weight in the water, heavier than he should have been, and Lo’ak had to kick hard to get them moving, one hand locked on Jake while the other shoved at debris and wall and twisted wreckage to keep himself from getting trapped too.

He found an air pocket by sheer luck more than skill, a sliver of space just enough air to breathe.

Lo’ak broke the surface first, dragged in one desperate breath and then hauled his father up with him.

Jake surfaced choking.

His hand shot out blindly and found hold on a railing jutting from the wall.

“Breathe, dad,” Lo’ak said, voice shaking as he held him up. “Breathe.”

Jake coughed hard, dragging air into ruined lungs, whole body jerking with it. His eyes were unfocused at first, dazed and distant, and when they landed on Lo’ak they looked right through him.

“Neteyam,” Jake gasped.

Lo’ak felt that one like a knife.

“No, dad, it’s Lo’ak,” he said quickly, swallowing hard. “It’s me.”

Jake blinked.

“Oh,” he breathed, sounding so tired Lo’ak’s chest hurt. “Lo’ak.”

Then Jake looked around.

At the tiny air pocket. At the water. At the fact that only the two of them had surfaced.

The look that crossed his face made Lo’ak want to crawl out of his own skin.

“Your sister?” Jake asked.

Lo’ak’s throat closed.

And a part of him knew the truth he didn’t want to face—that he couldn’t save her, That was the cost. That was always the cost.

And worse, a bitter, ugly thought twisted in his chest—she was down there because she had chosen this. Because she had thrown herself into danger like she always did, playing the hero, saving them without hesitation, without thinking about what it might take from her.

And now she was the one left behind and he had no choice but to leave her there.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, and his voice cracked so badly it barely sounded like his. “I’m sorry about Neteyam. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.” 

Jake’s eyes shut for half a second.

When he opened them again there was something something hurting so badly Lo’ak almost wished his dad would yell instead.

“Just focus,” Jake spluttered, dragging air in laboriously. “Focus on now.”

The ship groaned around them.

The lights above crackled and dimmed again, and Lo’ak looked up at the ceiling of the air pocket and realised with cold certainty that it was shrinking. Water was still climbing the walls. The air wasn’t going to last.

“We’re losing the air pocket,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady and failing. “Come on, dad. We gotta move.”

Jake was still breathing like each breath hurt him. He looked wrecked. Not just tired. Not just hurt. Wrecked.

Lo’ak had never seen his father like this before, never seen him look so empty and so broken at the same time, and the thought of Neteyam on the rocks and (Y/n) still on the bottom of the ship made Lo’ak feel sick all over again.

“You know your way out?” Jake asked, voice strained.

“Think so,” Lo’ak said. “But dad, it’s gonna be a long breath hold.”

Jake gave a small shake of his head. “I can’t make it.”

Lo’ak stared at him.

His father said it so quietly. So matter-of-factly. Like he was already done.

“You can,” Jake said, and that was worse somehow, hearing his father tell him to leave. “You can.”

“No.”

“Lo’ak—”

“No.” His voice broke on the word. “I can’t lose you too now, dad. Please.”

Jake scrunched his face up in pain, one hand pressed to his chest while he fought for breath. Lo’ak could tell he was hurting. Could tell he was drowning in more than just seawater and grief and exhaustion, and still his dad looked at him and said the one thing Lo’ak could not hear.

“You should get your sister and get out of here.”

Lo’ak felt his stomach drop. “Dad... she wasn’t moving.”

Jake went still.

Lo’ak had never seen his father look more broken than he did in that second.

The words hung there between them, ugly and heavy and final, and Lo’ak hated himself for saying them. Hated himself because Jake’s face changed, because something in his eyes seemed to cave in, because Lo’ak knew exactly what his father was hearing in those words.

You left her.

“You should’ve gotten her out,” Jake said.

“Dad— I...” Lo’ak swallowed hard, tears burning now, because he did not know how to explain it in a way that didn’t make him sound like a coward. “I couldn’t tell if she was alive.”

Jake shut his eyes.

Lo’ak had never felt smaller.

He reached out and tapped his father low on the chest, where Tsireya had once taught them to breathe from.

“You just have to slow your heart down,” Lo’ak said, forcing calm into his voice even though his whole body was shaking. “Breathe from here.”

He took one deep breath, hoping his dad would follow.

“The way of water has no beginning and no end,” Lo’ak said quietly. “The sea is around you and in you. The sea is your home. Before your birth and after your death.”

Jake’s breathing started to slow.

“The sea gives and the sea takes,” Lo’ak continued, his voice thick now as he kept going, because if he stopped he thought he might break. “Water connects all things. Life to death. Darkness to light.”

Jake dragged in another deep breath.

Then another.

Lo’ak could see the effort it took, could see him forcing his body to listen, forcing himself back from the edge one breath at a time.

“Dad, you can do this,” Lo’ak whispered.

Their heads were barely above the water now. The air pocket was nearly gone. Lo’ak thought he saw a tear slip down his father’s face and disappear into the seawater, but he could not be sure.

“Last breath,” Lo’ak said.

They filled their lungs and dove.

Lo’ak swam ahead, leading his father through the wreckage, through pipes and broken panels and flooding corridors that twisted in the red emergency light. Jake followed, slower than usual, one hand brushing walls and railings to keep himself oriented, and once Lo’ak felt him falter behind him.

He looked back.

Jake had turned.

Looking down.

Looking for her.

Lo’ak grabbed his wrist and yanked hard, keeping him moving.

Not now.

If Jake stopped now they were both dead.

The water around them slowly changed as they swam, lit by the drifting glow of squid-like fish slipping through the wreckage. The sight of them should have been beautiful.

Jake was struggling now.

Lo’ak could hear it even underwater, the little broken sounds in his father’s chest, the way his body kept trying to force a breath it could not have. So Lo’ak doubled back, hooked his arm under Jake’s and dragged him the last stretch toward the surface.

The water above them shimmered orange.

Fire.

Spilled fuel burned across the top of the sea, turning the whole surface into a sheet of light and heat and death.

Lo’ak’s heart lurched.

Then Payakan appeared beside them, his great body moving close enough for Lo’ak to grab the edge of his fin. Jake did the same a second later and Payakan turned, guiding them toward a break in the flames where the surface was safe enough to breach.

They broke through together.

Jake surfaced first and gasped so hard it sounded like it tore something in him.

“Just breathe,” Lo’ak said immediately, grabbing at his father’s arm to keep him steady. “Just breathe.”

Jake bent over Payakan’s fin, coughing and dragging in air, but the sound of it made something twist in his own face.

It sounded too much like his daughter. Too much like those terrified little gasps she had been making with the water up to her mouth, with her head barely lifted, with fear in her eyes because she thought she was going to drown.

She did drown.

He bit back a cry.

The sound lodged in his throat and stayed there, turning sharp and vicious in his chest.

He had left her. He had left his daughter at the bottom of that ship. He had felt her in his arms, limp and cold and still, and then he had lost consciousness and now he was here, breathing, while she was still down there.

The pain that hit him was like a knife driven straight through the centre of his chest and twisted.

Jake bowed his head for a second, silent scream trapped behind his teeth, because all he could hear was her voice.

Daddy, please.

He left her.

He left his daughter.

Lo’ak was still beside him, breathing hard, eyes fixed on him with that same fear Jake had seen in Neteyam’s face on the rocks, and Jake’s hand moved before he thought about it. He reached out and cupped Lo’ak’s face, thumb pressing against his cheek as if he needed to reassure himself his son was real. Alive. Still here.

“I see you, son,” Jake said hoarsely.

Lo’ak’s face crumpled.

“Ma Jake!”

Jake’s head snapped up at Neytiri’s voice.

She was swimming toward them through the dark water with Kiri and Tuk beside her, all three of them terrified and alive and moving, and for one second Jake could not do anything but stare.

“Dad!” Tuk cried.

Jake reached for her first, helping pull her up onto Payakan’s fin, then Kiri, until all of them were clinging there together in the firelit water.

He looked around.

And the number hit him like a blow.

From seven strong to five.

Neytiri reached him and threw herself into his arms.

Jake caught her instantly, holding her so tightly it was almost desperate, and she clung back just as hard, both of them shaking with exhaustion and grief and the simple brutal relief of still being able to touch one another.

“Where is (Y/n)?” Neytiri asked quietly.

Jake shut his eyes.

Then shook his head.

Neytiri made a small broken sound and clung to him harder, one hand fisting in the back of his neck while the other reached blindly for her daughters, checking Kiri, checking Tuk, touching them as if she needed proof they were still there.

Jake held her and stared at the burning sea and the sinking ship beneath it, and all he could think was that somewhere below them, in the dark, he had left two of his children behind.

They returned to the rocks where they had left Neteyam.

For a few moments no one said anything.

There was only the sound of the sea, the distant groan of the sinking ship, and the fire still burning across the water behind them.

Then Tuk saw him.

“Neteyam!”

Her scream tore through the silence as she ran across the rocks, slipping once before catching herself and dropping to her knees beside her brother. “Neteyam, get up,” she cried, grabbing at his arm with both hands. “Mama, why isn’t he getting up?”

Neytiri moved toward. She sank down beside Neteyam and gathered him into her lap, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other holding him across his chest as if she could still keep him warm, still keep him close.

The last time she would ever hold her son like this.

Tuk sobbed beside her, little hands gripping Neteyam’s arm, shaking him like he had only fallen asleep, like if she begged hard enough he would open his eyes and tell her to stop crying.

Neytiri held him tighter.

Her son was gone.

Her eldest daughter was missing. She did not know if her daughter still breathed. Did not know if Eywa had taken her too, and the thought hollowed her out in a way she could not even begin to face—because she could not hold her, could not see her, could not say goodbye.

And she had no room left inside her body for all the ways her heart was breaking.

Jake stood a few steps away, breathing hard, soaked through, his whole body aching from the wreck and the fight and the water in his lungs. He could not look at Neteyam for too long. Could not look away either.

“Come here,” he said quietly to Kiri.

Kiri stepped closer, still shaking, one wrist held out where the cuff bit into her skin. Jake took it gently and used his knife to cut through it, snapping loose and falling to the rock.

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Kiri asked.

Jake’s hand stilled.

He stared back toward the sunken ship.

Lo’ak hung his head.

The guilt was already crushing him, heavy and ugly and impossible to swallow down. He could feel it in his chest, in his stomach, in his throat.

He was the reason he and Neteyam had gone back.

They could have gotten (Y/n).

Neteyam had seen her.

Neteyam had wanted to go to her.

But Lo’ak had chosen Spider.

Then he had chosen Dad.

And somewhere in the middle of those choices, his brother had died and his sister had been left at the bottom of the ship.

(Y/n) had known what she was doing. She always made that clear. She threw herself into danger  like no one else got a say in it.

So why did the thought of her still down there make him feel sick?

Why did it feel like something inside him had rotted out?

And yet, buried beneath the guilt clawing at him, another truth twisted just as painfully—if anyone was at fault for her death, it was herself.

Tsireya stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him.

Lo’ak held her back, but his eyes stayed on the rocks.

On Neteyam.

“Dad,” Kiri asked again, more fearful this time. “Where’s (Y/n)?”

Neytiri let out another sob.

This one sounded different.

This one was for both of them.

Jake’s ears pinned back. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

He had said a lot of impossible things in his life. Orders. Goodbyes. Promises he could not keep.

But he could not say this.

Could not tell Kiri her sister was still beneath the water.

Could not say he had lost her.

“Dad?” Kiri asked.

Jake looked away from her.

Kiri’s face changed.

“No,” she whispered.

Her knees gave out and she sank down onto the rock, sitting back as if the world had simply dropped beneath her. Jake crouched in front of her and placed a hand on her shoulder, but he had no comfort to give.

Then movement pulled Kiri’s eyes away.

Spider hauled himself onto the rocks, coughing and exhausted, dragging in air like he had barely made it back to the surface.

“Monkey boy,” Kiri breathed, and through the grief a small, broken smile touched her face.

Spider stumbled over to them, eyes moving over Neteyam, over Neytiri holding him, over Jake’s face.

Jake stood and caught Spider gently by the shoulders. “You alright?”

Spider nodded, though he looked anything but. “Yeah.”

Jake pulled the boy into him.

Then Jake glanced over at Lo’ak.

Lo’ak could not meet his gaze.

Jake reached out anyway, catching him by the shoulder and drawing him in. “Come here.”

Lo’ak came stiffly at first, then broke into him, one hand clutching at Jake’s arm like he was barely holding himself together.

A son for a son.

The thought sat in Jake’s chest, bitter and painful.

But his daughter.

His first baby.

His heart sank all the way down as he remembered the terrified look on her face, her scared and fragile voice ringing through the ship.

He looked at Neteyam.

Then back at the ship.

This was a nightmare.

Burying two children.

Then coughing cut through the grief.

Ragged coughing.

Wet, choking, desperate coughing mixed with gasps for air.

Every head turned.

Si’riya was pulling herself up onto the rocks, one arm hooked around (Y/n), half carrying her, half dragging her from the water. (Y/n)’s legs barely held beneath her, her body folding forward as she coughed hard, water spilling from her mouth as she gasped and sobbed all at once.

“Dad,” she spluttered.

Jake moved before anyone else could.

He crossed the rocks in a rush and caught his daughter as she stumbled into him, wrapping both arms around her so tightly he could feel her trembling through every bone. She was soaked and cold and shaking violently, coughing against his chest as Si’riya stayed close, patting her back hard enough to help force the water out.

“(Y/n),” Jake breathed, his voice breaking on her name.

“She swallowed a lot of water,” Si’riya said, still out of breath herself. “We need to make sure she gets it all out.”

Jake nodded, though he barely heard her.

His daughter was alive.

Alive.

Her legs started to give and Jake went down with her, lowering her to the rocks as she collapsed against him. He kept rubbing her back, patting lightly between her shoulders while she coughed and gasped and choked through sobs, her fingers digging weakly into his arm.

“That’s it,” he murmured, tears burning in his eyes as he held her. “That’s it, baby girl, breathe. Just breathe.”

He thanked whatever was out there for this one small miracle.

For this one breath.

For this one child returned to him from the dark.

Then (Y/n)’s eyes shifted past him.

She looked toward her mother.

Toward Neteyam.

Jake felt her body go still.

She pulled herself out of his arms slowly, shakily, like she did not quite trust her own legs, and forced herself to stand.

“Mom?” she said quietly.

Neytiri was holding Neteyam tightly, rocking him almost without realising it, her face buried near his hair while Tuk sobbed beside them.

Neteyam was so still.

His eyes stared at nothing.

(Y/n)’s breathing quickened.

“No,” she whispered.

She stumbled forward and dropped down beside her brother, horror spreading across her face as she reached for his hand. “Neteyam?”

No answer.

“What did you do?” she asked, voice thin and shaking as she shook his hand lightly. “Neteyam, what did you do?”

Jake’s chest tightened.

“This wasn’t the plan,” she said, tears filling her eyes as she gripped his fingers. “You were meant to stick to the plan.”

Her voice cracked.

“This wasn’t the plan. We were—we were all supposed to go home.”

The tears spilled over then, running silently down her face at first as she stared at her brother’s still body like she could not understand it. Like if she looked long enough the answer would appear.

How?

How had the plan gone so wrong?

Her brother was dead.

Neteyam was dead.

The only people meant to be at risk in that plan had been her and Si’riya.

Unless—

(Y/n) turned her head slowly.

Her eyes landed on Lo’ak.

Lo’ak stiffened.

She got to her feet.

“What did you do?” she asked.

Lo’ak looked taken aback, face pale and wet and already broken with guilt. “(Y/n)—”

“What did you do?” she snapped.

Jake stepped between them. “Hey. It’s not his fault.”

But she did not believe him.

He could see it in her face.

The grief had nowhere to go, and now it was turning into rage because rage was easier than falling apart. Her hands shook at her sides. Her breathing was wrong again. Too fast. Too sharp. She looked like she might collapse or attack and Jake did not know which scared him more.

Why hadn’t it worked?

Why hadn’t they all left?

Why was Neteyam dead?

Unless Lo’ak had gone off script.

She shoved Jake away and stormed toward Lo’ak, pointing back toward Neteyam with a shaking hand. “Look at this!” she screamed.

Lo’ak flinched.

“You’re an idiot!” she screamed at him. “What the fuck did you do?!”

Her voice cracked on the last word and the sobs came with it, tearing through her so hard she folded slightly around them. Jake caught her before she could reach Lo’ak properly, pulling her back into his arms.

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, holding her tight as she fought against him. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed into his chest, the rage breaking into something younger and more broken. “I’m so sorry, dad.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“That’s because it’s his!” she cried, trying to look past Jake at Lo’ak. “All they had to do was leave. All they had to do was leave.”

“Pumpkin,” Jake said softly, one hand coming up to the back of her head.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed again. “I’m so sorry. I should have never trusted Lo’ak to fucking choose the easy way out.”

Lo’ak looked like the words hit him straight in the chest.

But he did not defend himself.

Did not say anything.

He just stood there, shaking, eyes full of tears.

“Neteyam’s dead,” she cried, the words breaking her open all over again.

Jake held her tighter, running a trembling hand through her wet hair as she shook against him.

“Shh,” he whispered, though his own voice was barely holding. “It’s okay, pumpkin. It’s okay.”

But over her shoulder, Jake looked at Lo’ak.

At his surviving son standing there with guilt swallowing him whole.

She began to cough more water out between her sobs and jake just continued to pat her back. I sobbed, “It was a solid plan. All we had to do was create a big enough distraction for Neteyam to cut them free and then get away, so why? Why is Neteyam dead?”

Jake tightened his hold on her as her body lurched forward again, another harsh cough ripping through her chest. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, one hand firm against her back as he guided her to bend forward slightly. “Get it out, baby, you’re okay.”

She gagged suddenly, another wave hitting her as she clutched weakly at his arm. Jake shifted quickly, steadying her as she retched, more seawater spilling from her mouth between broken sobs. He kept one hand braced between her shoulders, rubbing slow circles as she coughed and choked through it.

“That’s it,” he said softly, voice thick but steady, grounding her as best he could. “Let it out. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

Her breathing hitched violently as she tried to pull in air, tears streaming down her face as she sagged against him again, exhausted and shaking. Jake pulled her closer, pressing her against his chest, his hand still moving gently along her back.

“Breathe,” he whispered, pressing his cheek to her head. “Just breathe, pumpkin. You’re safe now.” “Why… why aren’t I dead?” she choked out between coughs, her voice broken as her body shook against him. “Why is he dead?”

“No, no—don’t worry about that right now,” Jake said quickly, his voice breaking as he tightened his hold on her, one hand cradling the back of her head. “Don’t—don’t worry about that, pumpkin. You’re safe. That’s what matters. You’re safe.”

“Why?” she cried, the word tearing out of her, her voice cracking .

Her body trembled violently in Jake’s arms, grief and shock crashing through her all at once, too much to hold, too much to understand.

Then she felt it.

A hand on her shoulder.

She turned slightly, breath hitching as Neytiri knelt beside her, eyes red and shining with tears, her face carved with the same unbearable grief.

“My daughter,” Neytiri whispered, her voice breaking as she reached for her.

(Y/n) didn’t resist.

Neytiri pulled her eldest into her arms, wrapping around her tightly, fiercely, as if she could shield her from the pain, from the loss, from everything that had just been torn from them.

(Y/n) collapsed into her, sobbing harder, her hands clutching at her mother as if she might disappear too.

Neytiri held her close, one hand cradling the back of her head, pressing her against her chest, rocking her gently as her own tears fell freely.

“I have you,” she murmured, voice trembling. “I have you, my child.”

And she held her tightly, as if letting go would mean losing her too.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, her voice breaking as she clung tighter to her mother. “I’m sorry, mama—I tried, I tried getting them out.”

She coughed again, harsh and wet, her whole body jerking with it as Jake stayed close, his hand never leaving her back, rubbing slow, steady circlest.

Neytiri lifted her gaze then, meeting Jake’s eyes over their daughter’s shaking form.

For a moment, nothing needed to be said.

Their eldest was alive.

Breathing.

Clinging to them.

It was nothing short of a miracle. 

“I thought I would never see you again, daughter,” Neytiri whispered, her voice breaking as she pressed her forehead gently against (Y/n)’s. “I am so glad you are alive.”

“I- I…” she stammered between her tears, her voice trembling as she clung tighter to Neytiri. “I failed Neteyam, mama… I couldn’t get him out.”

Neytiri shook her head immediately, pulling her closer, one hand firm at the back of her head as she pressed her into her shoulder.

“Shhh… shhh,” she whispered, voice trembling but insistent, trying to quiet the storm inside her daughter. “No, no, my child… do not say that.”

She held her tighter, almost desperately, as if grounding herself in the feel of her—warm, alive, breathing against her.

Eywa had not taken both.

Her eldest, the one she had believed lost beneath the water, was here in her arms.

Alive.

Neytiri closed her eyes briefly, tears slipping free as she pressed her cheek to (Y/n)’s hair, silently thanking Eywa for this one miracle—for not taking two of her children in the same breath.

“I have you,” she murmured again, softer now, her voice breaking under the weight of it. “You are here. You are alive.”

“And I am thankful,” she said, her voice trembling as she cupped (Y/n)’s face gently, forcing her to look at her. “Because I cannot lose you too. I cannot lose you, (Y/n).”

Her thumbs brushed away her daughter’s tears, though her own continued to fall freely.

“You are loved,” Neytiri whispered, her voice breaking completely now. “Just as much. Always.”

Jake moved closer, wrapping an arm around her as well, pulling her gently into him and Neytiri both. “We’re just glad you’re okay, (Y/n),” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion as he held her tighter.

Jake met Neytiri’s gaze again over their daughter’s head, and for a brief, fragile moment, something passed between them—raw grief, unbearable loss, and beneath it, a quiet, aching relief. They had lost their son… but they were not burying their eldest too.

(Y/n), turned away from them. She coughed raggedly again, more seawater spilling from her lips as her body shook violently. Jake immediately patted her back once more, keeping her upright as she struggled to breathe through it.

Neytiri’s heart shattered further at the sight, her gaze flickering helplessly between Neteyam’s still form in her arms and (Y/n) fighting for breath beside Jake.

One child gone. One barely holding on.

“I’ve got her,” Jake said quietly, his voice low but certain as he glanced at Neytiri.

Neytiri hesitated only a moment before nodding faintly and heading back to Neteyam, pulling Neteyam closer to her chest again, burying her face against him as she rocked gently, her grief swallowing her whole once more.

Jake shifted his focus entirely to (Y/n), his hand never leaving her back as he continued to help her cough up the remaining water, murmuring softly to her, grounding her through each ragged breath.

Just thankful he wasn't burying this one as well….

…… not this time

Next >

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[kaptainkassa]

oh to have remmick, an ancient vampire who has spent lifetimes feeding the blood from hapless victims, cursed to never feel the warmth of the sun, to rest his weary head in your lap

[just-another-idk]

The Eldest

Sully family x Eldest daughter reader

Part 49 > Part 50 < Part 51

The Fight of the Two Eldest Sisters

(Y/n) stood near the back of the crowd. Around her, the village had transformed. Voices rose. War cries echoed. Calls for vengeance carried across the gathering.

In the middle of the crowd her father was trying to cool the flames of war.

Neteyam stood beside their father.

Trying. Trying so hard. But grief was a powerful thing. Fear was worse.

And right now the clan was feeling both.

(Y/n)'s eyes found her father. She watched him standing there. Watched him trying to stop a war before it started. Watched him trying to protect people who didn't even realize what they were asking for. Because she knew what he knew. He knew exactly what happened when people rushed into battle against the RDA. He knew exactly what those costs looked like.

And unfortunately— So did she.

A movement beside her pulled her from her thoughts.

Lo'ak.

Her little brother looked angry. Frustrated. Restless. Like he wanted to punch something.

Which honestly described Lo'ak on most days.

He stopped beside her.

For a moment neither spoke.

"Shouldn't you be encouraging dad to fight back?"

(Y/n) didn't answer. Her eyes remained on the crowd. On the growing tension spreading through the village. “No,” she replied.

"Why not?" Lo'ak frowned.

Because normally his sister had an opinion on everything. Normally she argued. Normally she pushed back. Normally she'd already be halfway through preparing whatever their father asked of her

But not this time.

And that bothered him.

A lot.

"Are you scared?"

(Y/n) felt something tighten in her chest. Not anger. Not embarrassment. Something else. Something she hated. Because the answer was yes. Terrifyingly yes. And she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

So, she stayed silent.

Lo'ak took that silence as confirmation. "You are."

(Y/n) closed her eyes briefly. Not because he was right. Because he was too hot blooded to understand why. Too young to understand what fear actually looked like.

She remembered when she was like her brother. Fearless of the RDA, proud and prepared to go into battle with her father.

Looks like their heart to heart went out the door when his impulsiveness flared because he didn’t know. Didn’t know how deep her fear ran. A fear so gripping that she’d still prefer to die than end up in enemies hands. A fear that rose up at the mention of the RDA. A fear that made her heart pound… a fear that her siblings could share the same fate as her or worse.

A fear that luck may run out.

"The only person who could change dad's mind is you."

"You're not going to do anything."

Her jaw tightened.

"So you'll just let the Tulkun die?"

Her eyes snapped toward him. Because that wasn't fair. Not even remotely. "Can you not hear dad?" she asked quietly. Her voice wasn't angry. It was calm. Steady. "He's telling them to warn the Tulkun so they can evade the RDA."

Lo'ak scoffed. "(y/n) you know as well as I do that we should fight back. Since when were you scared of a fight?"

The words hit harder than he realised. Because once— Once she'd loved fighting. Loved the challenge. Loved the certainty that came with knowing exactly who the enemy was.

Then the war came. Then captivity. Then torture.

Then death. Or something close enough to it.

And suddenly fighting wasn't exciting anymore. It was just expensive. Measured in blood. Measured in loss. Measured in people. People she had watched die because she refused to break.

"Lo'ak." Her voice dropped lower. "If dad orders a strike on the RDA..." She looked toward the ocean. "Many lives will be lost."

Lo'ak shook his head. "You and dad ran plenty of raids back home."

That hurt too. Because he wasn't wrong. But he also didn't know. Didn't know what those raids looked like afterward. Didn't know how many nights she'd run through the lists of personnel who didn’t make it home. Didn't know how many names she'd memorized. Didn't know how many funerals she'd attended.

"Where we had an advantage," she answered quietly. "Where we had weaponry. we knew the terrain.”

And people still died anyway.

The last part stayed unspoken. Because why didn’t he understand. Why didn’t he realise that it takes a single stray bullet, one small mistake, one slip in judgement and everything goes wrong.

Why couldn’t he just drop it.

Lo'ak folded his arms. Frustrated.

Because he wanted her to agree with him. Wanted his sister to be the fearless warrior everybody thought she was.

Instead— She looked tired.

Just tired.

"So what you're saying..." His voice hardened. "...is you're a coward."

The word landed like a slap. (Y/n)'s head turned slowly. Very slowly. The same way Jake's did when someone pushed him too far. "Watch it."

Lo'ak held her gaze. For once refusing to back down. "The (Y/n) I know wouldn't let this slide." Then he turned. Walking away before she could answer.

Before she could explain. Before she could tell him that the (Y/n) he was talking about had nearly gotten herself killed.

More than once. Before she could tell him that courage and recklessness weren't the same thing. Before she could tell him she was terrified.

Not of dying. Of losing them. Of reliving a nightmare worse than death.

There was no suffering in death. No one was shot in front of her eyes in death.

He was gone before she found the words.

(Y/n) watched him disappear into the crowd. Something uneasy settled in her stomach.

A feeling she'd learned not to ignore.

Because Lo'ak was many things. He had a complete inability to leave things alone.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Following his retreating figure.

Why did she suddenly have the feeling—

The horrible feeling— That her little brother was about to do something incredibly stupid?

Because he was Lo'ak. And every instinct she possessed was suddenly screaming that whatever happened next—

Was going to be bad.

She sighed deeply, trying to steady herself. Tried. But no matter how many times she inhaled, no matter how many times she straightened her shoulders, no matter how many times she repeated her father's words in her head—

Steel your heart.

—it wasn't working.

Not really.

The crowd around her blurred into noise. She could hear all of it. And none of it.

Because her mind was somewhere else. Back where everything had gone wrong. Her hands clenched. Hard enough her nails dug into her palms.

She barely felt it.

Because she remembered.

Eywa.

She remembered.

The crack of gunfire. Sharp. Violent. Impossible to forget. The sounds echoed inside her skull as vividly as if they were happening now.

Her stomach twisted. Suddenly the humid ocean air felt too thin. Too difficult to pull into her lungs.

She swallowed.

Tried again.

Failed.

Because once the memories started— They never came alone.

The smell followed. Blood. Rot. Death. The scent of the dead bodies left outside her cell.

Her breathing hitched. She squeezed her hands tighter. Her pulse hammered.

Louder.

Louder.

Stop.

But it wouldn't.

For a moment she genuinely thought she might be sick. Because the last time her brother had done something stupid— The memory hit hard enough she physically flinched.

One inch. That was all that had separated her from death. One inch higher. One inch to the left.

And she wouldn't be standing here. Wouldn't be watching Lo'ak disappear into another terrible decision.

Her hands trembled. She hated that. Hated how fear still did this to her. Hated how helpless it made her feel.

You said they wouldn't find us.

The words she'd thrown at Jake earlier echoed back. And now she hated those too.

Because he hadn't lied. He'd believed it.

They both had. For a little while. For one brief beautiful moment she'd believed the war was behind them. That the fear was behind them. That they could just exist.

The laugh she'd shared with Si'riya on the beach felt like it had happened years ago.

Another breath. Shallow. Not enough.

She dug her nails deeper into her palm. Focusing on the pain.They're not here.

The thought came quietly. Weakly.  She grabbed onto it anyway.

They're not here.

Another breath.

They're not going to get me.

Her heart still raced. Still pounded against her ribs. But she repeated it anyway.

They're not going to get me.

Again. They're not going to get me.

The knot in her chest loosened slightly. Enough to stop herself from spiralling completely. They won't get them either.

That one was harder to believe. Much harder. Because she'd believed people were safe before.

And been wrong.

But she forced herself to think it anyway. Forced herself to breathe. Forced herself to stand.

Because if she let the fear win now—

If she let the memories drag her under— Then the RDA would have succeeded in breaking her.

And she was tired. So incredibly tired. Of letting them take things.

They won't get me.

A breath.

They won't get them.

Another breath.

And slowly— Very slowly— She managed to unclench her hands.

Neteyam spotted Lo'ak before he reached the ilu. Before he reached the saddle. Before he started sneaking away. Because Lo'ak had a look. A specific look.A look that immediately made Neteyam's stomach sink. The same expression he'd worn before every terrible idea he'd ever had.

And he hated it.

Absolutely hated it. Because it usually meant Neteyam was about to spend the next hour trying to stop his brother from getting himself or others killed.

Again.

Neteyam pushed through the crowd. His eyes never leaving Lo'ak. Never leaving the saddle already being slipped over the ilu's head.

Absolutely no way.

"No way you're rolling out of here little brother."

Lo'ak didn't even jump. Didn't even look guilty. Which somehow annoyed Neteyam more.

"I have to warn Payakan about the pingers."

Neteyam closed his eyes. Just for a second. Because there it was.

The problem.

Lo'ak had already decided. Already committed. And once Lo'ak committed to something— Eywa herself struggled to change his mind.

"No."

Lo'ak afced him head on. "He's outcast."

"There's nobody to warn him but me."

Neteyam stared at him. He understood. That was the worst part. He understood. Because if somebody threatened (Y/n)... If somebody threatened Kiri... If somebody threatened Tuk... He'd do exactly the same thing.

Exactly. The same. Thing.

And maybe that was why this was so frustrating. Because Lo'ak wasn't wrong. He was just being stupid. Dangerously stupid.

Again.

"Bro."

Neteyam rested a hand on his head. "Why do you have to make things so hard?"

Lo'ak smacked his hand away immediately. The rejection stung more than it should have. "No."

Lo'ak finally looked at him. And there was anger there. Real anger. Not the usual irritation. Not the usual stubbornness. "You mean why can't I be the perfect son like you."

The perfect son.

Neteyam froze. Because there it was again. If only Lo'ak knew. If only he knew how exhausting that sounded. Because lately it felt like Neteyam spent half his life disappointing people. The title felt more like a burden than a compliment.

Lo'ak kept going. "Well I'm not you." His voice rose.

Neteyam barely noticed. Because all he could think was— I don't want you to be me.

Eywa.

Didn't Lo'ak understand that?

He didn't want another Neteyam. Didn't want another kid carrying expectations around like chains. Didn't want another sibling trying so hard to keep everyone together that they forgot about themselves.

One was enough.

One was already struggling.

"I'm not you." Lo'ak stepped forward. Defiant. Furious. "He's my brother."

Payakan.

Neteyam felt something twist painfully in his chest.

Because was he his brother too.

After everything he’s done for him

"I'm going."

Neteyam grabbed his arm. Because suddenly he was angry too. Not at Payakan. Not even at Lo'ak. At the situation. At everything.

"He's your brother?" His voice came out harsher than intended. "No."

Lo'ak yanked against his grip.

Neteyam tightened it.

Because suddenly he needed Lo'ak to understand. Needed him to hear this. His throat tightened. "I'm your brother."

Lo'ak ripped his arm free.

Hard enough to stagger him. And suddenly Neteyam knew. Knew he'd already lost this argument.

Then Lo'ak dove. Straight into the water.

"Lo'ak!"

The splash swallowed his name.

Neteyam stared after him. Then he let out a long breath. The kind that carried years of frustration. Years of worry. Years of being an older brother. "Skawng."

And despite everything— Neteyam dove after him.

Because that's what he always did. Followed. Worried.Protected. Because Lo'ak was an idiot. Because Lo'ak was his brother.

(Y/n) was walking along the shoreline when Si'riya found her. The ocean lapped quietly against the sand. The village behind her had become little more than distant noise. And still— Lo'ak's words lingered. Because she'd spent the last several minutes trying not to think about them. Trying not to replay them. Trying not to let them get under her skin.

Coward.

The word sat ugly in her chest. Not because she believed it. Because part of her wondered if her little brother did. And that hurt more than she wanted to admit. Because she was the one who stood between Lo’ak and a bullet.

She had nearly died on multiple occasions in the name of protecting her family. And somehow—He still thought fear and cowardice were the same thing.

(Y/n) kicked a shell into the water.

Skawng. Absolute skawng.

The sound of somebody running pulled her from her thoughts. She turned. Si’riya was sprinting towards her as if a thanator was on her tail. The kind of urgency that instantly made (Y/n)'s stomach tighten. Si'riya skidded to a stop. "Our siblings were just spotted heading beyond the reef."

(Y/n) froze took a deep breath. The kind of breath somebody took before committing a crime. And her crime would be wringing Lo’ak’s neck. Because of course they were.

Why had she expected anything different?

Her jaw tightened. "Those idiots." Because did they not understand the danger. If a Tulkun was killed relatively nearby... then the rda weren't far behind either

Then she let out a sharp yip. The call echoed across the beach. Moments later— A familiar screech answered. Tiso'ha appeared overhead. Wings cutting through the air. The ikran banked sharply before descending toward the sand. The ikran landed beside her. Nudging her shoulder.

(Y/n) rested a hand briefly against her neck. Because she could already feel where this was heading. Already knew exactly who was involved.

Lo'ak.

Neteyam probably following after him.

Again.

And if Neteyam and Lo'ak was involved— The others wouldn't be far behind.

Her headache was growing by the second. "Guess we'd better go after the idiots."

Si'riya snorted. Because neither of them questioned it. Because they both knew. If the younger siblings had gone beyond the reef— Something had happened. And somebody needed to bring them home in one piece.

And as the eldest sisters... that was their job.

(Y/n) swung herself onto Tiso'ha's back. Her thoughts immediately finding Lo'ak again. Because beneath the irritation. Beneath the frustration. Beneath the lingering hurt from earlier— There was worry.

That was the problem with loving people. Especially younger siblings. They could make you furious. Absolutely furious. And you'd still chase after them the moment they disappeared.

She was going to wring his neck. The moment she found him. Absolutely wring it. Assuming he wasn't dead.

Which only made her more annoyed.

Tiso'ha launched into the air.

Below her, Si'riya ran into the ocean, her skimwing meeting her. She urged her skimwing forward.

(Y/n) rubbed her face. Already exhausted. Already irritated. Already worried.

And they hadn't even found them yet.

Neteyam's hands were starting to hurt. Not that he cared. Because every second that passed— The ship got closer. And every second that ship got closer— The knot in his stomach tightened.

The pinger lodged between the plates on Payakan’s back wouldn't move.

Wouldn't budge.

Wouldn't do anything except sit there lodged beneath Payakan's armour plating.

Neteyam planted his feet harder. Pulled. Nothing.

Beside him Aonung was doing the same.

Tsireya too.

Roxto grunted with effort.

Still nothing.

"Call it in."

Neteyam's chest heaved. He didn't stop pulling.

"Lo'ak."

Nothing. His brother was staring at the horizon. At the approaching vessel. At the death coming straight for them.

"Lo'ak."

This time his voice was sharper. "Call dad."

That got movement.

Lo'ak climbed higher onto Payakan's back.

Fumbling for the com.

Neteyam returned his attention to the pinger. Pulled again. Nothing.

The thing refused to move.

His jaw tightened. Pulled harder. Still nothing.

Then Lo'ak's voice drifted over the com.

"Dad, I mean Devil Dog, do you read me?"

"It's Eagle Eye, do you copy?"

Neteyam felt relief. Just a little.

Because Dad was coming.

"Dad." Lo'ak's voice cracked slightly.

"We're with a Tulkun that's under attack. Killer ship's inbound. It's about two clicks out."

Neteyam closed his eyes.

Because he already knew what was coming. Their dad would ask who’s with them.

"It's all of us."

Lo'ak glanced back.

"Aonung and Tsireya too. We're at Three Brothers Rock."

Neteyam  watch Lo’ak wince.

There it was.

Jake Sully discovering all of the children had somehow found the most dangerous place possible.

Again.

Neteyam and the others kept removing the pingers.

"Yes sir." Lo'ak answered. “We won’t engage.”

Too quickly.

Way too quickly.

Because they both knew.

Every single person standing here knew.

That if the ship arrived before Jake did—

The ocean suddenly felt very large.Very empty. Very far away from home.

"It's getting closer." Tsireya's voice called out.

Neteyam looked up.

The ship was larger now. Much larger. Close enough that he could make out details. Close enough that his stomach dropped.

He shook it away. Forced himself back to the present. Back to Payakan. Back to the pinger. Back to now.

Because right now— They needed to get it out.

Neteyam grabbed hold again.

Aonung beside him.

Roxto beside him.

Tsireya beside him.

All pulling. All straining. All desperate.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

The pinger refused to move. And the ship kept coming.

That was the worst part. The ship kept coming.

Every glance toward the horizon made it bigger.

Closer.

Neteyam's breathing quickened. Not from effort. From fear.

Because suddenly he understood something.

Something he hadn't wanted to.

Jake wasn't here.

(Y/n) wasn't here.

The people who usually dealt with things weren't here.

And for the first time—It was just them.

Just the younger generation.

Just a handful of teenagers standing between Payakan and a ship built to kill Tulkun.

The thought settled heavily in his chest.

Because despite all his confidence.

Despite all his training.

Despite everything— Neteyam suddenly wished his big sister was here.

Wished his father was already arriving.

Wished somebody older would tell him what to do.

Because the ship kept getting closer. The pinger wasn't moving.

And they were running out of time.

Neteyam shook his head, his sister never hesitated, neither would he.

“See where (y/n) is,” Neteyam told Lo’ak

“Why should I?” Lo’ak snapped

Neteyam didn’t like his tone. He scowled. Why must he be so stubborn now?

His heart hammered. He shook his head. Get it together.

Every glance toward the horizon made the vessel seem bigger. Made the situation feel more hopeless.

Payakan shifted beneath them.

The Tulkun's distress rolling through the water in low mournful sounds that settled heavily in Neteyam's chest.

He was scared.

And suddenly that made Neteyam more determined than ever.

Because Lo'ak was right. The Tulkun had nobody. Nobody except them.

Neteyam's eyes darted around desperately.

Looking for anything. Anything at all.

The harness. The rope attached to his ilu.

An idea formed immediately.

Something was better than nothing.

He dove. The water swallowed him instantly.

His fingers found the rope.

Ripped it free.

Then he surfaced beside Aonung.

"Aonung!"

The Metkayina boy looked over. Neteyam threw him the rope. Aonung caught it.

Immediately understanding.

Thank Eywa.

Neteyam secured one end around the harness, Aonung the pinger..

His hands shook.

The ship was too close.

Way too close.

"We pull together."

Aonung nodded. Tsireya was already moving. Roxto too.

Everybody suddenly had a job. Everybody suddenly had hope.

"Go!"

Aonung shouted.

The ilu surged forward. The rope snapped tight.

Nothing.

For one terrible second— Nothing happened.

Neteyam's stomach dropped.

No.

No.

Come on.

The rope groaned.

The pinger shifted.

Everyone pulled

It shifted again

Just slightly.

A fraction.

But enough.

Enough to see movement.

"Again!"

Everybody pulled. Harder.

The ilu strained. The rope creaked.

The pinger shifted again.

The ship was almost here.

Almost.

Neteyam looked up.

Instantly wished he hadn't. The vessel was enormous now. Towering.

Close enough to see movement aboard. Subs diving into the water

Coming. For them.

Fear clawed at his chest.

Hard.

"Pull!"

Everybody threw their weight into it. Everything they had. Every ounce of strength. Every ounce of desperation.

The rope stretched.

The pinger groaned.

Then— It gave.

The thing ripped free with a violent crack.

Everyone immediately lost balance.

Lo’ak. Aonung. Roxto. Tsireya.

All of them were thrown into the water.

The rope snapped loose. Bodies splashed. Water exploded everywhere.

Relief hit Neteyam so hard it almost made him laugh as he grabbed the pinger and rolled up the rope.

The ship needed a target. And Payakan couldn't be it.

The pinger clutched tightly in one hand.

Lo'ak's head appeared above the surface.

"Neteyam?" There was confusion there. Worry.

The same worry Neteyam always felt for everyone else. Funny. He'd never noticed what it looked like before.

"Go."

The word came immediately.

Lo'ak frowned. "What?"

"Go that way."

Neteyam pointed.

"Neteyam—"

"I'll draw them off."

Lo'ak stared at him.

Aonung too.

Tsireya.

Roxto.

All of them.

Because now they understood.

And none of them liked it.

Neteyam didn't either.

But somebody had to do it.

And right now— He was the only one with a target. The only one who could buy time.

The only one who could get the ship away from  everybody.

His pulse thundered.

Not because he wanted to do this.

Because he didn't. Not even a little. But because there wasn't another option.

And Neteyam had spent his entire life doing things he didn't want to do. For his family. For his siblings. For the people he loved.

"Go!"

This time he shouted it.

The command breaking whatever argument Lo'ak had prepared.

Because there wasn't time. Not anymore.

The others exchanged glances.

Reluctantly— They obeyed.

The ilu dove.

One after another.

Vanishing beneath the waves.

For one brief moment he watched the last glimpse of Lo'ak disappear beneath the water, his sisters on another

And something uncomfortable settled in his chest.

Not fear.

Something worse.

The feeling that this was a bad idea.

A really bad idea.

The kind of feeling (Y/n) always seemed to have whenever one of them did something stupid.

His grip tightened around the pinger. His stomach dropped. Then he urged his ilu forward.

And took off.

Hoping that drawing them away would buy them some time until their dad arrived

The hunting vessel slowed, its massive shadow swallowing the water beneath it, engines rumbling like distant thunder through the sea.

Then the launch bays opened.

One after another the sleek attack subs dropped into the water, engines igniting immediately as they disappeared beneath the surface, cutting through the ocean like predators catching a scent.

Behind them came the crab suits.

Mechanical limbs unfolding as they descended into the depths, their metal claws flexing open and shut while spotlights flickered to life beneath the waves.

The kelp forest swayed gently ahead of them.

Spotlights pierced the darkness between the towering strands of kelp, propellers churning the water as the hunting party spread out through the forest, searching every shadow, every cave, every hiding place.

The hunt had begun.

Lo'ak's heart raced. Every muscle in his body screamed.

The ocean around them had become chaos.

The ilu were racing as fast as they could through the kelp forest, Roxto and Tsireya close beside him, their ilus darting through the water.

Lo'ak glanced back. Immediately regretting it. Because one of the submersibles had broken away.

It wasn't following Neteyam. It wasn't following the false signal. It was following them.

The machine surged through the water.

Its lights cut through the blue depths.

Closing in on them.

Lo'ak felt his stomach drop.

Tsireya saw it too.

Lo'ak could see the fear in her eyes.

Because there was nowhere to go. They needed to escape and try and hide.

The sub was gaining.

Every second.

Gaining.

Roxto pushed his ilu harder.

Tsireya did the same.

It didn't matter.

The machine kept coming.

The distance shrank.

Twenty metres.

Fifteen.

Ten.

Lo'ak's heart hammered.

The sub accelerated. Its engines roaring through the water. The pilot had seen them.

Tsireya looked back.

And Lo'ak saw it. Saw the moment she realised they weren't going to outrun it. The moment she prepared herself to fight.

Even knowing she'd lose.

The sub closed.

Five metres.

Four.

Three—

Something slammed into it from the side.

The impact shook the water.

The machine lurched violently. Its aim thrown off.

Tsireya twisted around.

Lo'ak did too.

A skimwing. Cutting through the water like a spear.

Its rider on its back. Balanced perfectly. Hair streaming behind her. Spear already in motion.

Tsireya's eyes widened.

Because she knew that skimwing, knew its rider

Her heart leapt.

The rider drove forward.

The spear punched into the crab suit's arm joint. The metal crumpled. As she jammed it into its second arm and then into the where the sky person in it lay.

The suit sunk

The skimwing swept past by them in one fluid motion.

Tsireya felt relief hit her so hard she also swallowed water.

Her big sister was here.

Si'riya banked sharply.

A sub came towards them.

The skimwing rolled. Then came back around.

The spear struck again.

This time straight through the viewport. The glass exploded. Then began sinking.

Slowly.

Powerlessly.

Vanishing into the depths.

Tsireya's chest tightened.

Not from fear. Relief. Pure relief.

Because Si'riya was here.

And if Si'riya was here—

Lo'ak's eyes widened.

Because he had the exact same thought.

The exact same realization.

If Si'riya was here—

Then—

A shape-streaked overhead. Fast. Far faster than any skimwing.

A shadow passed across the water. Massive wings. Powerful wings.

Lo'ak's heart practically stopped. Then surged. Hope. Actual hope.

Because there was only one creature on Pandora that flew like that.

And only one person insane enough to ride it into danger.

(Y/n).

She was here.

His sister was here.

The same sister he'd called a coward. The same sister he'd walked away from.

The same sister who always—

Always—

Showed up.

Lo'ak felt guilt hit him like a punch. Because of course she came.She always came.

No matter how angry she was. No matter how scared she was. No matter what they'd said to each other.

She always came to get them.

The feeling spread. Roxto felt it. Tsireya felt it.

Because suddenly they weren't alone anymore.

The cavalry had arrived.

Big sisters who had come to save their idiot younger siblings.

Si'riya cut across their path so suddenly that Tsireya nearly collided with her skimwing.

The elder Metkayina girl didn't look frightened.

Didn't look uncertain.

If anything—She looked annoyed.

The kind of annoyed that usually meant somebody was about to regret existing.

Her eyes flicked toward the approaching machines.

Then back toward the younger group.

Toward Tsireya. Toward Roxto. Toward Lo'ak.

The message was immediate. Clear. Absolute.

Leave.

Si'riya jabbed two fingers toward the kelp. Then pointed at herself. Then pointed upward. Where a shadow was already circling.

Lo'ak followed her gaze. Tiso'ha.

The sight of the great ikran moving above the water sent a rush of relief through him.

A stupid rush.

A childish rush.

The kind he'd felt when he was younger and his eldest sister showed up after he'd gotten himself into trouble.

Si'riya signed again.

More aggressively this time.

Go.

Now.

Then she pointed toward the incoming submersibles.

Toward the growing swarm of crab suits.

Toward the danger.

Then pointed at herself.

And at the shadow above.

We'll draw them away.

Lo'ak froze.

Because suddenly he understood what they were about to do.

And a horrible feeling settled in his stomach.

Si'riya noticed his hesitation.

Immediately.

Her expression hardened.

Toward the kelp forest. Toward safety. Then made a sharp shooing motion.

The kind an older sibling used when they were done arguing.

And Lo'ak hated how familiar it looked.

Because (Y/n) did the exact same thing.

The realization hit him harder than it should have.

Because suddenly all he could think about was calling her a coward.

All he could think about was the hurt he'd seen in her eyes.

And still—She came. She was here.

The guilt sat heavy in his chest.

A distant vibration rolled through the water. The submersibles were getting closer.

Tsireya saw it too. Roxto did too.

The moment stretched.

Then Si'riya pointed one final time.

A command.

Move.

And this time— They listened.

Because there wasn't time to argue. Because there wasn't time to be brave. Because there wasn't time to be stupid.

They turned their ilu.

Lo'ak lingered. Just for a second. Watching.

Because Si'riya had already wheeled her skimwing around.

Already positioning herself between the hunters and her younger siblings.

The way older siblings did.

The same way (Y/n) always did.

And suddenly Lo'ak understood something he'd never wanted to.

How terrifying that must be. To constantly stand between danger and somebody you loved. To constantly be the one staying behind. The one buying time. The one taking the risk.

His chest tightened.

Then another shadow swept overhead. Fast. Powerful. Tiso'ha.

The ikran's silhouette crossed the water above them.

Lo'ak turned into the forest, getting off his ilu to hide in the green pods with air pockets. .

At last.

Couldn't thinking about the two sisters.

Two warriors.

Alone against a growing swarm.

Si'riya's skimwing exploded forward. He skimwing lunging out the water, snatching the neck of an ikran rider that was chasing (y/n) out the air and dragged it into the water. Dragging it all the way down before turning back to the subs.

A streak of blue and silver cutting through the depths.

The submersibles adjusted immediately. Their lights swung. Their noses turned.

Their attention shifting away from the younger group and locking onto the lone warrior racing toward them.

Exactly what she wanted.

The ocean erupted into chaos.

The skimwing twisted sharply. Rolling. Diving. Climbing.

The machines surged after her. Like predators scenting blood.

Si'riya banked hard.

One sub followed.

The second circled wide. Trying to trap her. Trying to box her in.

She saw it.

Adjusted.

Dove lower.

The skimwing folding its wings close against its body as it slipped through a narrow gap.

The first sub clipped the rock. Sparks exploded from its hull. But it kept coming.

The second emerged from the gloom.

Waiting.

The distance closed. Ten metres. Eight. Six.

Si'riya drove her mount harder.

The skimwing answered instantly. A beautiful creature giving everything it had.

Then— A flash. A sharp burst beneath the water.

The first projectile struck the skimwing's side.

The creature jerked violently.

Pain rippling through its body.

Si'riya nearly lost her grip.

The skimwing recovered. Kept moving. Kept fighting.

Another flash.

Another shot.

This one struck home.

A second impact.

A third.

The skimwing's momentum died and the ballons ignited.

The creature began to float upwards.

Not dead. Not yet. But beaten.

Broken.

Unable to outrun what was coming.

Si'riya released her bond. Letting the wounded animal drift away.

Alone.

She was alone.

The machines closed in. No mount. No speed. No escape.

Still—She didn't retreat. She gripped her speear

The first submersible hit her. She drove her spear into the pilots cockpit and it reversed away.

Before she could recover—The second struck.

Harder.

Then a third in her back.

The force drove the air from her lungs, bubbles rising to the air above.

It sent her spiralling downward.

The ocean floor rising to meet her.

The machines passed overhead.

Continuing their hunt.

And Si'riya sank. Slowly. Weightlessly.

Like a stone falling through still water.

Quaritch's ikran drifted over the ocean on broad, powerful wings, the great predator casting a moving shadow across the endless blue below as he searched the waters. The kelp forests stretched beneath him, vast underwater jungles swaying with the currents, their dark canopies creating hundreds of places for Sully's children to hide.

His eyes swept across the water again.

Nothing. Just waves. Just kelp. Just ocean.

Then something hit him.

A living missile.

Tiso'ha exploded into view from the side.

The impact was devastating.

Her jaws locked around his ikran's throat and with one tremendous flap of her wings she used her momentum to wrench the  beast sideways through the air. Quaritch barely had time to register what had happened before the world vanished into a blur of sky and sea.

His mount screamed.

Ocean became sky.

Then water rushed upward.

The crash threw both ikran and rider into the sea with enough force to send a wall of spray into the air.

Quaritch disappeared beneath the surface.

When he emerged moments later he wiped water from his eyes and looked upward. For a moment he thought he was seeing things.

Because Tiso'ha hovered above him.

And upon her back sat a girl who was supposed to be dead.

Sully's eldest.

The one he’d personally seen executed and had somehow survived.

For a brief moment neither moved.

Then Tiso'ha turned.And launched away.

Quaritch's surprise vanished immediately.

"Lyle."

His hand hit the radio. "Get after her."

Three ikran peeled away from the formation at once.

The hunt was on.

The sky became a battlefield.

Tiso'ha surged forward with enormous wingbeats, the wind howling around her as she accelerated over the water. Behind her came the pursuing riders, their mounts diving after her like hunting viperwolves closing on wounded prey.

The first burst of gunfire shattered the air.

(Y/n) felt the rounds before she heard them.

One screamed past her shoulder. Another missed Tiso'ha's wing by inches. A third struck the ocean below, sending a fountain of water erupting upward.

Lyle adjusted his aim.

Fired again.

Tiso’ha banked sharply.

Missed.

Again.

The black and gold ikran rolled.

Missed.

Again.

Still missed.

Because Tiso'ha wasn't flying in a straight line.

She was dancing. Rolling. Twisting. Banking.

Changing direction so violently that the hunters struggled to predict where she'd be from one heartbeat to the next.

The wind tore through (Y/n)'s hair. Her eyes watered. Her hands tightened around the saddle.

Another burst. More bullets. More near misses.

Too close.

Way too close.

A round clipped one of Tiso'ha's wings, she jolted but still kept them in flight.

The ikran hissed angrily. But she never slowed.

She simply flew harder. Faster.

The first hunter died so quickly he barely understood what happened. A shape erupted from the sea.

A skimwing.

Si'riya.

The Metkayina girl launched from the water like a spear hurled by Eywa herself.

Her skimwing slammed into the pursuing ikran's neck.

The creature screamed.

Then the skimwing's jaws locked shut.

Momentum carried both beasts downward.

The rider vanished beneath the waves.

Gone.

The ocean swallowed him completely.

The remaining hunters barely had time to react.

Their gunfire became far more aggressive. Far more desperate.

Tiso'ha climbed. Straight upward. Toward the sun.

The sun exploded across the horizon.

Blinding.

Lyle raised an arm.

Lost sight of her. One second.

Only one.

But one second was enough.

Tiso'ha vanished.

Twisted and then folded her wings. The great ikran dropped like a stone.

The remaining hunter never saw her coming.

One moment he was searching the sky.

The next Tiso'ha slammed into him.

Her jaws locked around his mount's throat.

The impact turned both creatures into a tangled mass of claws and wings.

Then gravity took over.

They fell.

Straight toward the ocean.

The other ikran panicked. Trying to recover. Trying to pull away.

Too late.

The sea rushed upward.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

At the last possible second Tiso'ha released.

The enemy could not. His ikran struck the water at full speed.

The impact shattered the surface.

Gone.

(y/n) thought she was in the clear until two ikrans burst from the depths of the ocean.

Quaritch and Lyle.

The islands rose from the horizon.

Towering mountains of stone erupting from the ocean.

Jagged spires reaching into the sky.

Cover.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Tiso'ha flew toward them.

Behind her Quaritch and Lyle remained glued to her tail.

She urged Tiso’ha faster towards the rising three brother’s rocks.

She banked.

Stone flashed past.

The distance between cliff and wingtip became terrifyingly small.

Gunfire echoed through the canyons.

Bullets shattered rock.

Fragments exploded everywhere.

Tiso'ha banked around one cliff so closely that her wing nearly scraped the stone.

Hugging the side, the sharp turn, losing Quaritch and Lyle for a second.

(Y/n)'s stomach twisted as Tiso’ha hugged the curve of the rock, flying around it,

Her stomach dropped.

Completely. Like the world had disappeared beneath her.

A Kestrel hovered in front of her as she rounded the next turn,

Waiting.

The sight of it hit harder than any bullet.

"No..."

The word escaped before she realized she'd spoken.

The Kestrel turned. Missile pods opening.

And suddenly she wasn't looking at an aircraft.

She was looking at every nightmare she'd spent months trying to bury.

"Tiso'ha!"

The missiles launched. White trails streaked across the sky. Death made visible.

The first explosion erupted nearby.

The shockwave hit like a hammer.

The sky vanished. The world shook.

Tiso'ha rolled violently.

Fighting for control.

Then the second missile struck.

Directly.

The explosion swallowed them whole.

Fire erupted.

Heat washed across (Y/n)'s face.

Tiso'ha screamed. A terrible sound. A heartbreaking sound.

One wing tore.

Then another.

Blood scattered through the air.

They were falling.

The ocean rushed upward.

(Y/n) clung desperately to the saddle.

Helpless.

Completely helpless.

Tiso'ha was still fighting.

Still trying. Still beating ruined wings. Still refusing to surrender.

And somehow that made it worse.

Because she knew. Knew the ikran was trying to save her.

Trying to carry her home one last time.

"Tiso'ha!" he leaned forward and flung her arms around her Ikran’s neck.

The mountains spun around them.

The sky vanished.

The ocean consumed her vision.

The water struck like stone.

The impact ripped her from the saddle.

Darkness swallowed everything.

And somewhere beneath the waves— The great ikran sank.

As rider and mount disappeared into the depths below.

Neteyam surfaced.

He watched as a familiar ikran slammed into Quaritch's mount with enough force to make Neteyam wince from where he floated in the water. Jaws locked around the other ikran's neck and both creatures tumbled through the air before separating at the last second.

The move was insane.Completely insane.

Neteyam felt his heart leap into his throat as Tiso'ha pulled away.

Because that was his sister.His eldest sister.

The one who was always somehow in the middle of the worst possible situation.

The one who had been shot. Captured. Tortured.

Nearly killed more times than he could count.

And still—

She always arrived at the perfect moment

Throwing herself between danger and everyone she loved.

A burst of gunfire ripped through the sky.

Neteyam's stomach tightened immediately.

The bullets looked so small from this distance.

But all he could think about was what would happen if one of those rounds struck her.

"Come on..." he whispered.

Tiso'ha twisted sharply. A bullet missed.

Another.

Then another.

The great ikran rolled sideways.

Dove. Climbed. Turned.

Neteyam couldn't look away. Couldn't breathe.

Every burst of gunfire made his chest tighten.

Then Si'riya appeared. The skimwing launched from the water like a spear. The impact gragged one of the hunters tumbling into the sea.

The chase continued.

Despite the fear—

Neteyam felt something else.

Awe.

Because his sister was incredible.

There was no other word for it.

Watching her fly was like watching something born for the sky.

Every movement felt effortless. Every turn perfectly timed. Every decision instinctive.

For a moment he forgot she was his sister.

For a moment she looked like a legend. She had nothing except her ikran and a dream and she had sent two of her attackers packing.

He followed the chase as Tiso’ha threw another one into the water. He kept his distance but watched her evade her last two chasers

Then she turned around one of the stone pillars.

And Neteyam's stomach dropped.

The Kestrel.

His heart stopped.

He watched the missiles launch.

Watching the white trails streak across the sky.

Watching them race toward Tiso'ha.

Toward his sister.

His chest tightened so hard it hurt.

The first explosion rocked the air.

The second hit.

Directly.

Fire erupted.

And suddenly Tiso'ha wasn't flying anymore.

She was falling.

"No!"

The word tore from him.

The great ikran spiraled downward.

One wing hanging uselessly.

Smoke trailing behind her.

Neteyam's entire body went cold.

The ocean swallowed them.

And for a moment—They didn't come back up.

The longest moment of his life.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Nothing.

His breathing quickened.

His heart hammered.

Neteyam didn't wait. His ilu surged forward.

Please.

Please.

Please.

By the time he reached the rocks Tiso'ha was dragging herself from the water.

Alive. Injured. But alive.

Relief hit him so hard his vision blurred.

The great ikran looked exhausted.

One wing hanging awkwardly.

But alive.

And then he saw her.

Floating nearby.

Barely conscious.

Neteyam dove.

The water closed over his head.

His fingers found her arm. Then her shoulder.

He hauled her upward.

Fighting the current.

Fighting panic.

When they broke the surface she coughed.

A weak sound.

He dragged her onto his ilu.

Then toward the rocks.

"(Y/n)..." His voice cracked.

She groaned. "Neteyam..."

He dragged her onto the rocks. She seemed dazed, a few burns from the explosion but it seemed that Tiso’ha took the brunt of the hit. She was okay. He grabbed her hand. She was okay

Nearby the ocean erupted.

Payakan surfaced.

Si'riya sprawled across the Tulkun's back.

Coughing seawater.

"(Y/n)?" Si'riya called.

Neteyam looked down.

His sister slowly sat up. Looking dazed. Confused.

"Alive," she croaked.

Si'riya laughed.

The sound shaky with relief.

Then suddenly (Y/n)'s eyes widened. "Tiso'ha."

The way she said it made Neteyam's chest tighten.

She sounded terrified.

She pushed herself upright. Stumbled. Nearly fell.

Then crossed the rocks toward her ikran.

Neteyam watched her kneel beside Tiso'ha.

Hands moving over scales and wings.

Checking. Searching. Making sure.

The relief that crossed her face moments later told him everything.

Not life threatening. Bad. But not fatal.

Thank Eywa.

Neteyam finally allowed himself to breathe.

Then something caught his eye.

Movement.

Out on the water.

His relief vanished.

A net. Being hauled from the ocean by Quaritch and Lyly

And trapped inside— Tsireya. Tuk. Lo’ak clung on the outside of it likely trying to cut them freeze.

The fear hit immediately.

Because suddenly he understood.

The battle wasn't over. Not even close.

His sister saw it too.

(Y/n) forced herself to her feet.

Despite barely being able to stand. Despite nearly dying mere moments ago.

Of course.

Of course she did.

Neteyam grabbed her wrist. "You can't go after them like this." The words came out harder than he intended.

Because he was scared. Terrified.

Because she'd just fallen out of the sky.

Because he'd thought she'd died.

Again.

And now she was looking at another fight.

Another rescue.

Another impossible situation.

Like she was actually considering it.

(Y/n) looked at him. And suddenly her expression softened.

She stepped forward.

Grabbed his shoulders.

And pulled him into a hug.

Neteyam hugged her back immediately.

Tightly.

Too tightly.

Like if he let go she'd disappear.

Like if he loosened his grip she'd get shot again.

Fall again.

Leave again.

"I have a plan," she whispered.

Neteyam buried his face against her shoulder for a second.

Because plans involving his sister rarely ended well.

For anyone.

Especially her.

She pulled back.

Looked toward Si'riya.

Looked toward Payakan.

"We have two options."

Neteyam already hated this.

Already.

"We wait for our parents."

Reasonable. Safe. Smart.

Then she continued.

"And by then our siblings could be dead."

Neteyam closed his eyes.

Because she wasn't wrong. That was the worst part.

She wasn't wrong.

"Definitely not that option," Si'riya said immediately.

Neteyam rubbed his face.

Already developing a headache.

"There are other options."

"There aren't."

"There has to be."

"There aren't."

Neteyam stared at his sister.

At the bruises. At the burns. At the water still dripping from her hair.

"You almost died."

The words escaped before he could stop them.

The conversation finally quieting.

"You almost died and you're standing here talking about another fight."

(Y/n)'s expression changed. The stubbornness fading. Something gentler appearing.

"I know."

"No."

Neteyam shook his head. "You don't."

His throat tightened. He threw his arms around her.

Because suddenly everything came spilling out.

The fear. The frustration. The memories of watching his sister laying unconscious and wondering she’d wake up. Holding her up as blood dripped from her wounds as she forced herself to keep going despite every single rib being shattered.

"You don't know what it's like watching you fall out of the sky."

"You don't know what it's like watching you get shot."

"You don't know what it's like wondering if you’re going to wake up or not."

His voice cracked.

Embarrassing.

But he didn't care.

Because somebody needed to say it. Somebody needed her to understand.

For once.

"You scare us."

The words landed heavily.

His sister was fearless.

And sometimes—That terrified everyone who loved her.

(Y/n) looked away.

Just briefly.

Then back.

And for the first time all day she looked tired. Not physically. Emotionally.

"I know."

She stepped back keeping a hand on his shoulder. She squeezed it. " But I'm coming out of this one."

Neteyam wasn't convinced. But he could see the look of her face and he felt something swell in his chest. There was something about her that just seemed mighty. A strength that carried her through the moments that should have killed her. A strength that’ll carry her through this one. He’d trust that strength.

She smiled faintly. "So are you." Quieter for only him to here, “I love you little brother but they have Lo’ak and Tuk… someone’s gotta go get em.”

His face scrunched up, knowing how right she was. “I love you (y/n). Please be careful.”

She nodded.

And he remembered everything she had ever said to him. How she’d protect them from suffering as she had and this was it. This was part of the deal. This is what it meant to be the eldest daughter of Toruk Makto.

To fight. Even when the odds are stacked against you.

All Neteyam could do is hate and accept it.

Then she turned toward Si'riya.

"Option two?" Si'riya grinned.

The exact grin that usually preceded disaster.

"We full send it and hope for the best." (y/n) answered.

Then Si’riya’s grin widened. "That's an idea I can get behind."

Next >

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[melakonen]

M.JACKSON BAD ERA .𖥔 ݁ ˖

summary: michael comes looking for you after performing.

warnings: suggestive!, crushing on each other, he’s VERY flirty, he acts clueless for two seconds.

a/n: hi guys! sorry for the little break mature era was supposed to be next but I’m still writing it 😩!

you were tidying up the microphones and sound equipment backstage, “baby?” you recognized that voice in your bones, it was michael and his new nickname he’s been calling you for the past few days. “oh hi!”, you turned around to face him a cord wrapped around your hand. he was panting hard, his curls were stuck to his forehead from the little droplets of sweat accompanying it. he embraced you for him to be so grimy, somehow he still smelt like the florals woven in his signature scent. “I was looking for you!”, he said very bubbly his hands now firm on your hips.

“kiss?”, you became flustered at his sudden question. you would be the craziest woman in the world if you declined. you pecked his lips as he pulled your body in damn near rubbing right on his. “I like your lip gloss, it tastes like fruit punch”, your thoughts jumped for joy at his comment. he hopped up and sat on top of one of the many empty wooden desks, grabbing his half filled water bottle of orange juice. “did you like the show?”, you continued your previous task turning off the remaining sound equipment. “I loved it, you always do great”, he grinned eyeing your body as you bent over to unplug a few cords.

“why are you so far away?”, you playfully rolled your eyes. “mike I know you see me working the job you’re paying me for!”, “I could pay you with something else”. you glanced over at him another grin planted on his face, “no but seriously come here.” you walked over, your body stood between his long legs. “how can I help you mr.jackson?”, “kiss me again.” your eyes widened, “please then I’ll leave you be.” you tip toed yourself, pushing your black heels down pecking his lips once more. “you look very pretty.” he fiddled with the neckline of your shirt, “is your bra purple?” you nodded bashfully. “can I just see the strap? I really love the diamonds on it.” you agreed as he slowly slid the left side of your shirt down, not too far but just enough.

his fingers latched themselves underneath as he brushed the jewels back against his thumb. “come with me after this.”, he said this so low you felt like you might have imagined him saying it. “um where?” he giggled, “where what?” you gently pushed his shoulder making him laugh. he adjusted your clothes back in place, “to my house I want to see a scary movie.” you shrugged your shoulders, “sure why not.” “can you stay the night?” you felt his big deer like eyes on you. “I can but… I don’t have any extra clothes.”, “that’s okay what’s your sizes?” you closed your eyes for the mere thought this may be a dream.

“michael…”, your heart was thumping so hard that you just knew he could hear it. his hands wrapped around your back pulling you in close as possible. you literally couldn’t get any closer he was being greedy! he looked around him for a few seconds, before running his hands down your body. “you could just..be bare nobody will be home I’ll wash your clothes.” your breath became jagged at his bold words. no matter how many times it happens, it’ll always surprise you when he’s like this. “are you sure?”

he put his hands in a more appropriate spot before answering, “of course I wouldn’t say that for no reason.” your stomach felt like a roller coaster going home with him was one thing, but the thought of you just in either your panties, bra or nothing? this is by far the most shocking conversation you two have had. “fine but… I’m covering myself with a blanket.” he laughed, “yes that’s fine I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” he reached for your hand to help him up. “no need to run this time we are going out the back.” you interlocked your fingers with his, you felt a wash of warmth and nervousness. he had you two walking around like a couple, knowing the crew could see you made you feel comfortable and horrified at the same time.

“do you want to come to my dressing room with me?” he said this still walking down the long grey hall front of you, still hand in hand but you had no way of knowing his facial expression. “oh.. um sure.”, he halted at the door turning the key into the lock letting you go in first. you sat onto the tacky green stripe couch. the room smelt just like his perfume very powdery, although notes of vanilla is what usually lingered on his skin. “there are some snacks in the drawer by my vanity.. I’m going to get out these hefty clothes!” he softly yelled entering the bathroom. you opened it carefully finding mostly boxed sour patch and m&m’s. you took one package and plopped back down on the sofa.

he returned in a blue button up and black pants. he took the box of candy out your hand, pouring some in his mouth. “hey!”, he giggled sitting next to you resting his head on your shoulder. “we should be leaving in a few minutes.”, you twisted one of his curls around your finger. “I’m excited I haven’t seen your movie room before.”, he playfully gasped. “really? you’ll love it!”, you heard a loud honk from outside the window. michael grabbed his set of keys off the table, before reaching for your hand. “lets go love”, he pressed a kiss onto the back of your hand. you two walked back towards the hallway leaving the venue.

secret a/n: I’ve been rereading so many magazines, rewatching so many home videos/ interviews to get dialogue and mannerisms accurate as possible that’s really what’s taking so long LMFAO ( I obviously know it’s not going to be truly accurate and I probably won’t always write it to be accurate but you get what I mean 🫩? )