Locked in an RDA facility with nowhere to escape, Jake finally learns the truth about what you did. 1k words. Masterlist
Prompts: Forced proximity, Jake finds out something scandalous about your past, “I love you”/“You shouldn't”, “I would do anything for this family, but I would never do that.”
Written for @junebugonjupiter's event - thanks for setting this up for us! It has truly been a feast. I'm more of a ccxcc writer and this is my first x reader for this fandom. Hope it's okay!
Fun fact: Caught between wingbeats was my first attempt for a different prompt, but that just turned into Jeytiri xD whoops
If you like what you see, consider leaving a kudo or reblog for me ♥
After this, check out the prequel: Just in time to ruin everything
——
“I love you.”
You promised him. You'd sworn it to him a thousand times before already, whispered how many more times against his skin. So why did those same words feel so wrong in your mouth now?
The cell was too small for the both of you. Too bright. The white RDA lights hummed overhead, turning his stripes into dangerous shadows across his skin. There was nowhere to go that didn't circle back to him.
“Why not?” You challenged, and you hated the way your voice trembled. Hated that he could hear it.
You resisted the urge to step back. It would be pointless. All you would do was hit the cold metal wall behind you and prove how easy it was to make you fold. He didn’t stop.
His tail flicked once, agitated, the tip snapping in the air. He kept walking like he planned to walk right through you, and you lasted exactly two seconds before you folded. Your heel slid back. Then again.
Your spine and tail met the wall with a soft thump.
He was so close now you could feel the heat of him. His breath rushed over you. Your heart raced; traitorous and confused. Fear and longing tangled together until you couldn’t parse the two.
Jake’s hand slammed against the wall beside your head.
The metallic thud shot through your bones and you froze.
“Because I know what you did,” He snapped.
That was all it took.
Your stomach dropped so fast it made your head spin. The air left your lungs and refused to come back. For a moment you couldn’t even speak, because the past you had tried so hard to bury was suddenly here. Between you. Breathing.
“Please,” You begged, the word breaking apart as it left you. “I can fix this. We can figure a way out and—”
“Are you listening to yourself?” Jake snarled. Teeth showing.
You went still. Completely still. Ears dipped down. Instinct told you not to move, not to push, not to give his anger anywhere else to land.
“There’s no fixing this,” He continued, voice rough. “There’s no we in this. There is no more us.”
The words hit harder than the wall had.
You licked your lips, trying to slow your breathing, but a small whimper escaped anyway. You couldn’t stop it.
“I didn’t know they’d do that.”
His expression twisted. Pain cutting through the anger. He pushed off the wall abruptly, like touching it burned him, and turned away from you. He walked to the other side of the cell, putting as much distance between you as the cramped space allowed.
It hurt more than if he’d shouted again.
“I swear!” You'd said, louder, desperation clawing up your throat. “I was thinking about us. About the clan. About everyone we care about. I thought… I thought if I gave them what they wanted, they’d leave you alone. I didn’t know they would use it to track the camps. I didn’t know people would—”
You choked.
Faces flashed behind your eyes. Smoke. Screams. The realization that your secret had become a weapon.
Your words died when he turned back. The anger was gone and that was somehow worse.
A broken man stood in front of you, shoulders heavy, eyes no longer sparkling under the harsh light. And you had no way to console him because you were the reason he looked like that.
“I would do anything for this family,” He croaked. “But I would never do that. I would never gamble lives like that.”
Guilt tore through you. Hot. Suffocating.
“What you did was unforgivable,” He said quietly. “There’s no coming back from that.”
Your knees gave out.
You slid down the wall until you were curled on the floor, legs pulled tight to your chest, arms wrapped around yourself like you could hold your insides together. The metal was cold through your skin. You barely felt it.
Nothing you said would fix this.
Nothing would bring back the lives lost because of a choice you made years ago, before you knew him. Before you knew what love really meant.
You loved him.
And you were starting to understand he might never love you back after this.
The cell went quiet after that.
Jake sat on one of the cots, head in his hands. His braid hung forward over his shoulder. You stayed where you were, as far away as possible, even though every part of you ached to crawl into his lap and hold him. To let him hold you.
You wouldn’t survive it if he pushed you away.
Lights out came for you both eventually. The overhead glow dimmed to a dull blue. You waited until his breathing evened out, until his shoulders stopped moving so much, before you forced your stiff legs to uncurl.
Every step toward your own cot felt like too much effort. You buried your face in the pillow, trying to stifle the sob that escaped. Your chest hurt. Your throat hurt. Everything hurt.
Then you felt him.
Arms around you were warm and solid. Familiar.
“I’m sorry, baby,” He murmured against your neck. “I’m so sorry I put that on you. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”
Relief flooded you so fast you almost gasped. You leaned into him, clutching his arm, afraid he might disappear.
The lights flickered back on. Bright and unforgiving. You opened your eyes and found yourself alone in your cot.
Turning over you saw Jake in his own bed. His back to you, unmoving. You sat up slowly and rubbed over your face. Your fingers came away damp. Old war paint stained your hand. The colors lost to time.
His ear twitched. Just once. Otherwise he didn’t move.
You didn’t know what was going to happen next. If there was even the smallest chance to fix this, you were going to have to do it.
Something impossible. Something crazy and reckless.
Neteyam x Ao'nung fluff
Between reef tides and forest pride, Neteyam and Ao'nung keep daring each other to give in first. The problem is, neither of them know what they're actually surrendering to. A canon-divergent plot where Neteyam survives and Ao'nung has taken it upon himself to care for him. 5k words. Masterlist. Tag list.
If you like what you see, consider leaving a kudo or reblog for me ♥
----
Saving their lives, that's all that matters. Right? Saving your family.
The words of Jake Sully swept across the crowd, cutting through the roar of anger and grief until even the waves seemed to quiet. He was right. If they were to save their spirit brothers and sisters, they had to stand united. As soon as his father gave the go ahead, the Metkayina scattered in every direction. Messages had to be carried. Ilu prepared. Weapons gathered. They would make sure their family knew they were protected by Toruk Makto.
Ao'nung moved toward Neteyam without thinking, following him, reaching to knock his knuckles against his arm. Neteyam glanced back in acknowledgment but didn't slow.
“My brother will be warned. You should stay back with yours.” Ao'nung spoke lowly, giving Neteyam that knowing look they shared whenever Lo'ak's name came up.
They both knew what that look meant.
Making it back home revealed it was empty.
No Lo'ak. Not a good sign.
“He can't have gone far. We can split up, cover more ground.”
Ao'nung watched the way Neteyam paced, his tail flicking sharply. Responsibility sat heavy on him. It always had. Ao'nung knew how much was placed on his shoulders as eldest, as protector. He had Tsireya to look after, but she was nothing like the other Sully.
Neteyam hissed under his breath and turned toward the water.
“We'll find him. He’s probably with Tsireya and Rotxo.” Ao'nung reassured again. Moving to block his path and forcing him to stop.
Neteyam's eyes flashed, restless and distracted, but he did stop.
“That thing that happened before? Did you mean to do it?”
The question had burned in Ao'nung’s chest since it happened. That almost-kiss. That almost something else. He needed to know he hadn't imagined it.
“I can't think about that right now,” Neteyam complained. Hand reaching up to the other's shoulder to squeeze it. “We'll talk later.”
Ao'nung nodded, feeling the words spear right into his gut. Later often meant never.
He wasn't going to let Neteyam go through the ordeal of finding his brother alone. They were friends now. All of them needed to look out for each other.
It’s the kind of thing his dad always pushed on him. The greater good of the clan and all that.
The greater good would be telling him now wasn’t the time to get into all of that too.
His ears dipped. Like he wanted to say more, but knew that was the worst thing he could do. His heart thundered and he felt ready to run. His mind was left to figure out if it needed fight or flight.
“Yeah. Alright. I get it.” He got out.
Neteyam moving forward solidified the decision not to say more. He didn't need to talk. Maybe showing him would let him know what happened wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about.
He did reach out again, catching Neteyam's arm as he passed. Tugging him close. The decision was instinct before thought could stop it. He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. No lingering. No space to second-guess.
Stepping back he eyed Neteyam carefully.
“Later.” He confirmed.
He raised an eyebrow as if daring him to deny it, then turned and ran before his courage failed him.
He should have walked. Should have played it cool as a sea cucumber. Instead his heart pounded so loud he could barely hear the surf. He told himself the rush was about Lo'ak. About the danger. Not about the look on Neteyam's face when he pulled away.
He found Tsireya and Rotxo in the village, but without Lo'ak. He didn't attempt to use words. Those were much too loud for unwanted ears around them. The second they were turning to him, a simple hand signal from him said it all.
He's gone.
The other two scrambled to get into the water. immediately diving down and calling for their ilus. Ao’nung following not far behind them.
“Lo'ak!” Tsireya called when she realized where he was heading.
“He's going after Payakan?” Ao'nung voiced aloud. The sinking feeling dropping in his stomach. He swam after the others. His ilu picking up speed to keep up. His tail kicked out behind him to help propel through the wider waves once they got out past the reef.
He came up for air and dove back beneath the roll of force. Tracking wasn't hard. They found Payakan, metal tracker and all. And then the gunships arrived on the horizon. Moving in on their location fast. Neteyam got Lo'ak to call it in.
Neteyam had moved with frightening certainty. He shot off with the tracker while Ao'nung corralled the others toward the seaweed beds. He signaled for them to hide. Stay low. Stay quiet.
He'd known fights, but never war. Never like this.
Lo'ak, Tuk and Tsireya were taken. The families arrived ready to tear the sky apart. Ao'nung searched frantically for Neteyam, pulling him back to the surface when Payakan attacked the ship.
Neteyam was brave, braver than how Ao'nung felt. He cared only about reaching that gunship and getting his siblings back. Ao'nung had stayed in the water because Neteyam had told him to. Because he trusted him. Because if Neteyam believed he could do it, then Ao'nung believed it too.
The wait was agonizing. Long minutes felt like hours. Gunfire blasted overhead. Payakan swimming below to propel himself up again. Ao'nung should be doing more, but Rotxo had found him and he knew dragging the other onto a ship with guns was not the play here.
When the rest of the group made it back to the water, Ao'nung and Rotxo were there to greet them. Eyes alight in celebration, only for it to be short-lived when Neteyam couldn't keep his head above water. Tuk and Kiri were still missing, but Neteyam's injuries were more pressing. So much blood swept into the sea.
Ao'nung helped Lo'ak haul him onto an ilu. He did not let himself think. He did not let himself look at how pale Neteyam's face had gone.
Heading to the nearest rock outcropping. Lo'ak calling for his father. The Sully’s showed up and crowded Neteyam while the others stood back and watched.
Ao'nung couldn't watch his friend die. He turned and dove back into the water, swimming down against the current to search the rocks for sea moss with shaken hands.
Resurfacing he moved to the family and pressed the moss into Jake's palm, telling him to pack that into the wound. Blood everywhere. Neteyam had already lost consciousness and Ao'nung worried his last memory might be of him leaving.
But he survived. Barely.
Ronal got to him in time thanks to the moss. For the coming days after the war, Ao'nung didn’t leave his side. All his friends came to see him.
“Scars build character,” Ao'nung would jest, his hand moving another seashell on the dried reed. A game children played, keeping Neteyam occupied while he'd been bedridden.
“I have enough character,” Neteyam grinned. Moving a piece of his own to overtake.
“Some would say too much,” Ao’nung had to agree.
“Skxawng.”
Ronal interrupted their game to come change the bandages.
“Stay close to the village, these need to be changed every few hours.” She warned Neteyam, “But you can try walking when you feel ready. Light excercise, nothing strenuous. No swimming or flying. You need to keep this dry.”
She stroked Ao'nung's shoulder as she passed him, leaving the boys to their game—though that was quickly abandoned with the news. Ao'nung was already getting to his feet.
“Ready to see the sun again?”
He grinned, holding an arm out to help Neteyam pull himself up into a sit. They waited there a moment for him to readjust to being upright. His brows furrowed in concern, gentle in the way he pulled Neteyam up to his feet. Ao'nung's hands were steady but his thoughts were not. He could still remember how still that body had been. Wrapping his arm around his shoulder, they walked out into the sunlight together.
When Neteyam didn't protest or insist on going anywhere in particular, Ao'nung led him through the village off onto the beach. Stopping at the end of the woven reed path to help him down onto the sands.
“Help me find a good shell,” Ao'nung asked, feeling the need to commemorate the day Neteyam was allowed out.
On the beach, with sand between his feet. Ao'nung let the Sully go.
Neteyam could rest against the woven steps to catch his breath back, if he didn’t mind leaving Ao'nung to search. Though the Sully was much too stubborn to stay still for long. Ao'nung pretended not to hover. It was good to see him moving again. A little wobbly, but alive.
Taking in fresh ocean air. The sun on their skin. It'd do him better than being cooped up.
“We going make something with them?” Neteyam called out in an ask, feet nudging at a mass of seaweed to see if he could spot a shell beneath.
“I think so, yeah. Depends what we find.”
Ao'nung knew he needed to keep Neteyam busy. Taking on the responsibility of rehabilitating the forest boy was his task and his alone. Tsireya he trusted would keep the others in check, for the most part. It was Rotxo who he trusted to fill him in with the rest.
He watched Neteyam more than the sand. The slight wince when he bent. The frustration flicking in his tail. Ao'nung stepped in front of him, blocking the light.
“Sit.” He ordered, waiting for Neteyam to press onto his forearms.
He'd support him as he lowered himself down to sit where he could reach for whatever he’d been going for without Ao'nung's help. He wouldn’t get stronger without some movement, but Ao'nung wasn't going to let him go pushing himself too hard.
“I got an idea.” He crouched in front of him. “I'm going to collect shells and bring them to you, but I don't want you to look at them until I'm done. Close your eyes. Meditate. ‘Reya has shown you a thousand times how. Just don’t look down. Okay?”
Meditation never stuck with him either but this wasn’t about him
“You're not going to mess with me when I close my eyes are you?” Neteyam asked suspiciously, knowing how Ao'nung was. “And how am I supposed to see these shells if I have my eyes closed?”
“I'll let you look after I'm done, skxawng.”
He smiled as he watched Neteyam sit straighter, eyes closing. The urge to lean in and lick that sun-kissed skin came to mind, as it always did when he could indulge in looking over Neteyam without being noticed.
He kept himself firmly in his own space. Eyes diverting away like he’d been caught when one eye peeked at him. As though Neteyam would read his thoughts.
Shifting to stand up. The momentary blocked light became bright again when he moved on. Ao’nung moved close to the water where all the best things washed up.
He made a show of coming and going. Neteyam heard him pass behind, toward the village and back again. The drag of wet sand. The soft thud as it was dumped in front of him. His nose wrinkled at the brine-heavy scent. Ao’nung’s fingers were cool and damp when they pressed beneath his chin, nudging his head higher.
“Were you always this bad at meditating?” He pointed out from his own observations.
Neteyam's breathing wasn't staying consistent. His ears kept following Ao'nung wherever he moved. Anyone with eyes could see he wasn't taking the meditation seriously.
“Hard to meditate when you're being as loud as a Sturmbeest,” Neteyam complained, forcing his shoulders back and his head higher. “I wasn’t even looking.”
“No, you weren't,” he said lightly in his musing, admitting to Neteyam he really wasn’t doing anything wrong. Ao'nung had wanted to touch him, that's all it was. “You were slouching,” he lied instead.
“No I wasn't.”
“If you say so. You were like a shrimp.”
Neteyam huffed, and Ao'nung smiled.
His hands worked quickly in the wet sand before it dried. He shaped the mound with care, carving small entrances and ridges with his fingertips. Shells were pressed into place one by one. Pink and purple frills of seaweed were arranged like flowers. He found himself thinking of forest vines woven through coral. Something that felt like both of them. Something that felt like home.
When he finished, he leaned back on his heels.
“You can look.”
Neteyam opened his eyes slowly. He stared down at the small creation, reluctant to touch it as if even brushing it might undo the effort. Something about the creation and Ao'nung's charm touched him. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t feeling so damn miserable inside.
“It's pretty.” He murmured, fingers grazing the seaweed carefully.
“I'll give you the honors of smashing it. Pick out your shells first though.”
To the talk of destroying, Nete looked up, genuinely stricken.
“Why would you do that? It's too nice to break.”
Ao'nung exhaled amusement out of his nose. Of course he didn't know. Why would he have known? It was easy to forget Neteyam hadn't always been there.
“The tides come and give us a clean slate to work on again. When I was growing up, we'd make a lot of these. It's supposed to teach us nothing stays the same and that we can always start again.” Then realizing he was talking to someone who probably didn’t know of this little tradition, he added, “After you take the sharp things out. Your foot will thank you.”
Ao'nungs head tilted with interest as Neteyam hesitated, before he began plucking shells from the pile.
“Before we do anything; pick a shell for me. Small one. One that you like.”
Ao'nung did the same, though he already knew which he wanted while he'd been decorating. He'd seen a small white one with brown stripes, or was it brown with white stripes? It'd give him something to argue about with Nete later.
He untied his songcord from his wrist. Holding it out to give Neteyam and gesturing to the shell he had in his hand.
“Tie that to mine.”
Neteyam stilled and Ao'nung shifted, suddenly aware of how exposed he felt.
“I realized you'd never put yourself on my songcord. Everyone else is there. I want you to be too.”
His other hand held up his own chosen shell to break the tension.
“Is this white with brown stripes or brown with white stripes?”
“It's brown with white.” Neteyam frowned, already working his own cord free. Not wanting to be left out.
“I knew you'd say the wrong thing.”
“How is that wrong? It's got more brown.” Neteyam bit back. Reaching to snatch the songcord from him and passing off his own.
Ao'nung shook his head. “Clearly it's white with brown stripes.”
“And you're clearly waterbrained.”
The argument came easy. Back in the safety of familiar waters. Ao'nung found himself smiling without meaning to. He loved the way Neteyam's eyes sparked when he bit back.
Neteyam unwound the end of the cord carefully, weaving the shell in with surprising delicacy. His fingers were skilled and used to tricky knots, despite everything. Ao’nung watched them more than he should have.
When the cord was handed back, Ao'nung gave it a testing spin. It caught around his wrist and settled there, the shell resting against his skin. He secured it to make sure it wouldn't come off.
“You're stuck with me forever now.” He confirmed in a smile. “Gonna be singing my praises every time, aren't you?”
“More like singing about what an idiot you are.”
He reached to knock his knuckles against Neteyam's leg. Shifting to stand up. He walked around the back of Neteyam. Dipping down to tuck his arms under his and help lift him up to his feet. He cleared the remaining shells away. He stepped back and gestured for him to have at it.
Neteyam looked back at him one last time to confirm this was something the other wanted him to do, and without further prompting, he struck out.
The sand pile was kicked, a cloud of dried and wet clumps flew up in an arc and Ao’nung clapped. His clapping died down long before Neteyam’s kicking did. It was really something to watch. He’d known the satisfaction of destroying a creation, and it seemed like Nete had really needed that.
By the time he was done he was panting and looking like a weight had lifted some. There was color in his face again. Ao'nung reached out to clap him on the shoulder.
“You really showed that. The Mighty Neteyam!” He jested brightly, giving the shoulder the gentlest of shakes. Proud of his friend for releasing some of that anger he held in his heart.
“Come, let us get out of the sunlight before you turn purple. I don't want to have to rub salve on you.”
He did want to, but that was neither here nor there.
They walked toward the shade, slower than Neteyam liked, pretending not to notice the way his friends' steps shortened to match his.
Ao'nung had a craving for fruit, something with plenty of juice to drink. He scoured the tree canopy to see if there was anything nearby he could climb to. While Neteyam would've been faster at it, he could manage.
Neteyam clocked onto what he was doing.
“I'm not going to stop you. But if you fall and break a leg, that's on you.”
Ao'nung continued to scour the branches. Preparing himself a path up. He huffed amusement at the not-so-optimistic encouragement.
“So you won't catch me?” He proclaimed in a loud huff. “Some friend you are.”
He moved in to run and hop up to the first low hanging branch. He followed a safe route, staying close to the trunk. Seeking out the fruit he so wished for.
“Fine, I'll catch you. But you have to explain to our parents why I need more care.”
“Walk it off,” Ao'nung called down, “Stop being a baby.”
He climbed carefully, closer to the trunk than Neteyam ever would have needed. When he tossed the first fruit down, Neteyam caught it.
Ao'nung skittered along more branches to cut down another and toss it to the ground before making the descent himself. At the last branch, he hopped down and raised both his hands to show how impressive he was. Neteyam would have done all that in half the time, but he’d celebrate over the fact he didn't fall.
Only, Neteyam was slowly spiralling into a bad mood by the time Ao'nung had made it down. Already working on his fruit and looking rather frustrated with it. He was struggling with the husk.
Nung's ears picked up and his hands dropped. Going over to collect his fruit and sit with him against the tree root. He started finding weak points in the husk and tearing it away from the fruit's shell.
He glanced to how Neteyam was doing, picking up on his frustrations with it, but he didn’t offer to do it for him. Thinking that might be the wrong thing to say. He knew pride when he saw it.
Instead, Ao'nung got into his and used his knife to crack it open a little to drink from. Silently, he offered that one out to Neteyam, waiting for the trade.
Neteyam's ears dipped in defeat, looking down at his own attempts. Silently he passed off the shelled fruit for the opened one.
Ao'nung nodded once in thanks. Starting his work on the harder-to-remove pieces of the new husk. He paused when Neteyam spoke, but then continued to work on the fruit.
“You must think I'm so pathetic.”
“Honestly?” Ao'nung peeled another strip away.
You've never been more attractive.
Ao'nung swallowed. Finding a way to reword his thoughts, he said instead;
“When I look at you; I still see you going into that ship and saving my little sister. I listened to your orders because I trusted you. So trust me when I say this; You've never been stronger in my eyes.”
Neteyam's shoulder pressed lightly into his. The contact made Ao'nung's breath hitch.
He hadn't known Neteyam to be so downtrodden, but it was understandable given his circumstances. It was still a long way to go in his full recovery. He’d been the glue for his family, and now he was finding himself lost without being able to hold it all together.
He looked down to the leg scooting in to press against his. The warmth of it filled his chest. He was almost certain the other could hear his heartbeat, the way it thundered in his ears.
“It's my job to look out for everyone else. I can't do that when I'm like this,” he complained. “I couldn't even make it into a stupid fruit.”
Ao'nung moved his fruit aside. He could crack it open after.
“Your job right now is to get better. That's it.” He pointed out firmly, “Everything else can wait. It won't be like this forever.”
He wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close enough to rest his chin atop his head. He breathed him in before he could stop himself.
The memory of that kiss flickered, intrusive and unwanted. Nete was hurting, it’d be wrong to kiss him now, he chastised himself.
Neteyam was as stiff as driftwood when he was pulled in, and Ao'nung would've let him go if he wanted him to, but something told him he needed that contact.
“I'm sorry you're having a hard time of it.” He murmured softly, because anything louder felt wrong. Anything bigger would have made it smaller somehow.
“You're always running around taking care of everyone else, skxawng, it's time to start letting people take care of you for once.”
When no answer came, the hand on Neteyam reached around to stroke against his jaw. Angling Neteyam's head to his face. Impossibly close, but he didn’t lean in. He dipped in to peck at his nose. Ending it with a long languid lick up along his face until Neteyam was pushing him away.
"Get off!" He barked.
“Now drink your stupid fruit.” Ao'nung grinned.
Neteyam stayed beside him despite his fooling around, settling back into the shared space as if it belonged to both of them. Ao'nung knocked his knee lightly against his, testing, reassuring himself that he was still there.
Neteyam lifted the fruit and drank slowly. His gaze stayed lowered, watching the liquid slide inside as though it required his full attention.
“Lo'ak won’t stay out of trouble for long. Everyone else is treating me like I’m easy to break, I hate it.”
Ao'nung's jaw tightened faintly. He understood that tone. The frustration of being seen as fragile.
“Tsireya and Rotxo will warn me if Lo'ak's in any trouble. He has that human to keep him busy.” He thought briefly of Spider, of the way Lo'ak hovered at his side ever since the ship. “And as for everyone else… tell them. They probably don't realize how much they’re affecting you.”
Neteyam muttered something about the fruit being good, trying to shift the current away from himself.
“Next time, I'll climb. I can get the higher fruit because you're too afraid.”
That got a scoff out of Ao'nung.
“I'd like to see you try. But I won't be catching you.”
He knew this game well. They built arguments just to feel the spark of them. It was safer than saying what they meant. Safer than admitting how badly Ao'nung wanted to lean in and taste the salt on his skin. To feel his mouth-
The thought made heat crawl up his spine. He turned his face away under the guise of reaching for his knife. Cracking his fruit open with more force than necessary and tipped his head back to drink. The cool sweetness flooded his mouth, ran down his throat. He swallowed hard until it slowed to a drip, shaking it for the last drop and letting out a satisfied hum.
He didn’t notice Neteyam's eyes lingering on him.
After all that hard work to get it, it always tasted better with a friend.
“We need to make plans for when you’re allowed to sea again. There's a whole world out there I want to see with you.”
He didn’t look at him fully when he said it. He didn't dare. But he felt Neteyam's eyes on him. That was enough.
Ao'nung split the shell and held half out to him.
“I was serious about trying iknimaya. I want to hunt these Sturmbeests you keep going on about. Be as mighty in the air as I am in the sea.”
“You'll be about as mighty as a fish.” Neteyam proclaimed, using his tail to whack Ao'nung against his spine. “But do you really think you'd be allowed?”
The hit stung less than the truth beneath the question. Ao’nung’s ears flicked back briefly. He hated thinking about being told no. Hated the idea of the reef deciding his entire life before he could.
“Probably not… but I'm old enough to make my own decisions, and I can be compelling.”
His eyes looked back to Neteyam's tail again when it flicked. A warning passed between them without words. Injured or not, Neteyam was not above being pinned. Ao'nung would just have to be gentler.
“Keep up the fish talk, see what happens.”
He warned playfully, his own tail flicking in anticipation.
“I dunno…” He continued, quieter now, “I have my whole life ahead for the reef. There's going to come a day where I can't leave here.” And that prospect daunted him. Leadership was no easy thing. “I should be able to find myself in the meantime, you know?”
Neteyam understood. Ao'nung saw it in his eyes. The same pressure lived in him. Being a Sully carried its own weight.
“If I can win my father over, he'll help me convince my mom I think. I bet if your family came they'd be more agreeable.”
“Course, I'll get right on that.” Neteyam replied dryly.
Another whap of the tail had Ao'nung looking up from his fruit with squinted eyes. Playfully warning the other not to say what he was thinking.
“Shall I tell them the fish want to walk on land?” He pressed, mostly to be an ass because he knew Ao'nung wouldn’t let it slide.
“Right, that's it,” he stated loudly, dramatically tossing his fruit aside.
Arm reaching around to that thinner blue tail to give it a good tug. Pulling it towards himself. Neteyam hissed and hands came up first, his one arm batted to defend himself. And go in for the kill.
“That's cheating! You can't do that!”
“If your tail wasn't made out of cord, no one would pull it!” He growled playfully.
Feeling the nails already digging into his arm and wrapping around his neck. None of it deterred Ao'nung, if anything it made him worse. Made him want Neteyam to continue that—as confusing as that feeling was.
Bringing Neteyam into a headlock where he could ease him down to the sandy ground. Gentler than he'd normally be, but still no less adamant he wanted Neteyam down.
Anytime he'd hear a wheeze or sound of genuine pain he'd pause and wait for Neteyam to adjust, then continued.
A series of “ow!” found their way out of Ao'nung as he was bitten. Nete's fangs weren't nearly as pronounced as any other Na'vi, and they wouldn't pierce skin, but they still came sharp. The contact fueled him in a way he couldn't begin to understand.
“You're cheating!” Neteyam snapped, “You loser! Get off!”
Ao'nung barely got out a laugh as he struggled to get Neteyam down the rest of the way. Using his body to straddle so the other couldn't roll or kick his way out. Hands wrapped around his biceps to keep arms down and away from his face or throat.
Finally getting him where he wanted, he looked down at him in a grin. His hair fell forward. They were at a standstill, Ao'nung panted and recovered his breath.
“What's a scrawny little forest boy to do, hm?”
The grin that spread across his face felt reckless. Victorious. Neteyam flashed his teeth back at him.
Ao'nung relished the fact he was stronger and could hold him, for now. He leaned forward to lick at his face again. Cleaning it affectionately, though he put it across as he was trying to be the most annoying person alive. Neteyam had no way to push him off this time.
“You're just salty you can't do anything about this.”
Neteyam squirmed beneath him again, trying to turn his head away. Ao'nung followed, nuzzling into his cheek and continuing the assault until laughter slipped through the stream of insults.
“See? If I really wanted to cheat. I'd do this.”
He dipped back down to Neteyam's cheek and bit at the fat there, making sure to pinch a mouthful and not cause any real damage. Causing another yell and struggle.
Letting go of his cheek, Neteyam still tried to steer his face clear from him, Ao'nung saw a new opportunity.
He dipped lower. Wrapping his mouth around the other's pulse at his neck, he felt the thundering rhythm of it beneath his tongue. Instinct told him to suck the spot there. Latching on he pressed teeth down in a threat.
He'd expected a snarl. Another insult. Anything to say Neteyam was still playing. Instead, a sound slipped out of Neteyam that wasn't like anything he'd heard before.
Ao'nung froze.
He pulled back slowly. Neteyam's face was flushed dark, eyes wide. The realization hit him a second later and heat bloomed across his own cheeks.
“You liked that?”
He asked quietly, surprised and intrigued. His eyes glinted mischievously upon the discovery.
“Shut up,” he bemoaned, wishing he could bury himself in the sand. The embarrassment only sharpened Ao'nung's grin.
“Naww, does the great Neteyam have nowhere to go and is being all shy now?”
He dipped down again, slower this time. Mouth finding a pressure point to latch against, teeth applying pressure until he felt the other react like he had before.
He released him and dragged his tongue over the mark he'd made. A quiet satisfaction coiled in his abdomen at the faint imprint of his teeth. It would fade soon, but this feeling wouldn't.
Coming back up to face Neteyam, he smiled ruefully. Eyes alight in enjoyment to this new game he'd discovered.
"Yield," The word was softer than before. The second he yielded, Ao'nung would let him go and their little game would be over.
This was a Sully he was telling though. Neteyam's stare remained stubborn. Defiant. A Sully through and through.
Jake Sully x GN!Reader
You return home just in time to see Jake become Olo’eyktan, except he thought you were dead, and you’ve brought the war to his doorstep. 1k words. Masterlist
A prequel to If I loved you less this would be easier, but can be treated as a standalone. Worked out better this way with the prompts I wanted to use.
Prompts: Reunion after a long time/thinking the other was dead and Jake's Olo'eyktan coronation.
Content warnings: War violence, bombing/explosions, captivity, grief, angst, major suffering (rip I know)
Written for @junebugonjupiter's event
If you like what you see, consider leaving a kudo or reblog for me ♥
For those that were interested in another part, ty for inspiring me to write this: @coconuthoneyandjaguars @mrscadethankya
——
You stumble toward hometree, legs barely listening. You don’t know how long it had been since you were last there. Weeks, maybe months. Time had become meaningless under RDA captivity. All you knew was that you were here now. Alive... despite all the odds.
Everyone was gathered that evening. Circles upon circles of Na’vi, hands resting on the shoulders of the person beside them, voices lifted into the night. A great chorus of their song welcomed you home. You hold back the sob as you moved to invade their space.
Home. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed to hear it until your vision blurred. You pushed forward anyway.
Arms brushed against you. Someone gasped your name. Others shifted aside when they saw the state of you. Dirty, torn clothes, and bruises blooming dark beneath your stripes. All hidden beneath the remnants of war paint from the day you’d disappeared. You barely noticed. Your eyes were locked onto one thing and one thing only;
Jake.
He stood at the center, in full swing of his coronation into becoming the next Olo’eyktan. Ritualistic feathers streamed from his shoulders. Beads and bone caught the firelight. Paint marked his face in shapes you didn’t recognize. He looked taller somehow. Broader.
The moment his eyes landed on you, everything stopped.
The singing faltered. Hands dropped. Heads turned toward the disturbance as your crumpled body pushed through the last ring toward him. Jake broke formation instantly and ran to you.
You barely had time to register movement before his arms were around you, catching you when your knees almost gave out. He pulled you tight against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head. Holding you like he was afraid you would disappear if he loosened his grip. Hugging you tight like he’d never let go, then quickly loosening up when he heard you wheeze.
He pulled back just enough to let you breathe, panic already flooding his face.
All this time and he thought you were dead. Or worse… still alive.
“Mawey,” He murmured, voice shaking as his fingers slid through your hair. “Easy. I got you.”
There wasn’t time.
Your hand pressed urgently against his chest plate, fingers trembling against the carved armour.
“They’re coming,” You gasped. “I got here as fast as I could. They know about the coronation. You need to evacuate. Now.”
His expression changed instantly. Leader replacing lover in a heartbeat. He looked up at the gathered clan.
“Arm yourselves and move.” He ordered.
“No!” You barked, grabbing his armor and pulling him back down toward you. “You have to get them out first. They know everything. Patrol routes. Tunnels. All of it.”
Understanding flashed across his face. Horror followed. Before he could respond, the hometree shuddered violently. The first missile struck.
A deafening crack split the air as wood and leaves rained down.
The crowd surrounding became a chorus of screams. Another explosion followed. Then another. The sound of aircraft thundered overhead, ikran cries piercing through the chaos. The roots wouldn’t hold out forever.
“Daddy!” Tuk screamed, slamming into Jake’s back. Lo’ak and the others appeared seconds later, faces pale and terrified.
“Take everyone and take cover,” Jake ordered Neteyam. The oldest nodding and took charge.
Tuk clung harder, sobbing, but Neteyam managed to pull her away. The children disappeared into the moving crowd.
Jake hauled you upright, one arm locked around your bicep when your legs faltered. When you stumbled again he shifted, dragging your arm over his shoulders and lifting you partly off the ground by the waist to support you.
He followed the evacuation in a downward spiral, shouting orders as you moved. The air grew cooler, damp with earth and roots overhead thick enough to muffle worst of the explosions.
The crowd thinned out into the narrow tunnel. Jake raised his free hand, signaling separation. Spread out. Move deeper. Hide. As the tunnels split off, so did the people.
“I thought they’d killed you,” he said between breaths.
Emotion slammed into you so hard it almost stole your voice.
“They tried,” you whispered.
The ground shook violently again and your foot slipped. Pain shot up your leg. You would have fallen if he hadn’t tightened his grip.
He pulled you down to sit against the cavern wall, waving the others ahead.
He reached for your leg, fingers pressing carefully along it. You flinched away. Dark bruises mottled your skin. Finger marks. Restraint burns.
His eyes went dark.
“Who did this to you?”
You shook your head quickly. “Later. I can move.”
He didn’t let you stand.
“Who?” he pressed. “Quaritch?”
Another tremor rattled the cavern. You grabbed his arm, panic rising.
“Not his style. There’s more. But I’ll tell you later.”
Later never came.
The moment you stepped out into the night, you were surrounded.
Gunshots took out more of those behind you. Others ran back into the tunnels. Some unlucky few were dragged out into the night with you.
Floodlights snapped on. Weapons raised. RDA soldiers closed in from every direction. Behind them, lay the Na’vi who had exited before you, bodies still, queues severed with brutal efficiency. Lessons from the Mangkwan.
At the sight, Jake roared, lunging against the AMPs restraining him.
A larger suit stepped forward. Metal upon metal. Built for war.
“Well,” the radio crackled, angling toward you. “There’s my favorite Na’vi. Told you I’d be seeing you again.”
Ice filled your veins.
“Come morning,” the voice continued casually, “every village you’ve ever known will be hit. Great intel, by the way.”
Jake went still. Eyes darting to you momentarily but going back to the enemy.
“The kids?” He demanded, voice breaking.
“Your offspring you mean? Safe, I presume. Kept caged with the other children. We have something else in mind for them.” The AMP stepped closer. “And by the time we’re done, they won’t even know who you are.”
The second Jake was roaring, “I’ll kill you!” He was being punched square in the face.
Then again. And again when Jake looked back up at him to snarl.
You struggle against your restraints and scream at them.
“Stop! Please, stop!”
The AMP turned toward you. A massive metal hand clamped around your throat and dragged you upright. Your feet barely touched the ground.
“Be grateful I’m not throwing you to the animals behind.” The voice said. “You might still have a use.”
You clawed at the metal fingers, vision swirling.
Jake snarled again and was backhanded across the face.
Both of you were dragged toward the aircraft.
As you were thrown inside and the ship lifted, you caught one last glimpse of the hometree. Blazing beneath you.
Flames licked along the bark. More aircrafts circled above like predators. Burning and blasting away everything you'd ever loved about that place.
As you move further away, you see they’ve scattered out and are targeting all the exits leading into the forest. You press your face into the cold metal floor and wail.
Lo’ak went to the shoreline, thinking he’d finally found somewhere quiet enough to disappear. The stars were out and no one was supposed to find him. Until his dad’s voice breaks through the comms. A hurt/comfort taking place in a canon-divergent FAA story. 1.8k words. Masterlist. Tag list.
Mature Content Warning: Suicidal ideation, interrupted attempt, happyish ending
Written for this request
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——
“…Lo’ak?”
The voice cracked over the small comms in his ear. The sound of his dad’s voice shot through Lo’ak like ice.
His breathing hitched as he stared out to the endless stretch of sea. The waves rolled in slow silver lines across dark waters. Washing softly against the pale sand where he knelt.
The last of the afternoon light, far beyond the horizon, had given way to the stars coming in to greet him one last time.
Somewhere behind him, the Metkayina village floated peacefully on the edge of the water. Distant voices and laughter were carried across the air.
He was out far from them. He thought he’d made sure of that.
So why was his dad on the comms?
Fighting the instinct to look around for him, Lo’ak squeezed his eyes shut. His fingers tightened around the gun pressed beneath his chin. The metal felt cold against his skin. He thought he had gotten far enough away to do this alone.
Jake’s voice came through again a moment later, quieter this time.
“I see you, son. I see what you’re doing.”
There was a pause. The faint sound of wind moved through the crackle in the comms.
“Please don’t do it.”
Tears streamed down Lo’ak’s face. His whole body trembled as the gun shifted slightly in his two-handed grip. Sand clung damply to his legs where the tide had reached him earlier. He’d been there a while, finding the resolve. The sea breeze tugged gently at the braids against his shoulders.
Lo’ak said nothing. He didn’t have the guts to speak. Not while his dad was there on the other end. His mind pulled him in a hundred directions at once. Shame. Anger. Hurt. That hollow ache that never seemed to leave his chest anymore.
Jake spoke again, the words came out in a tumble.
“I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I don’t want that to be the last thing you know I said. I’m so sorry if I—”
“Stop talking to me.” The words came out a broken whine. His hand freed the trigger to press up against his throat to press into the comms and talk.
“Okay. Okay.” Jake’s voice softened immediately. “I’m not going anywhere. You tell me what’s going on. Talk to me.”
For a moment, there was only the close rhythm of ocean spray. Lo’ak dragged in a shaken breath to fill his lungs. His tail lashed once across the sand before curling tightly against his own leg.
“How about we start with you taking favourites?” He spat out, unthinking.
The response slipped out before Jake could stop it. “What are you talking about? I never chose favourites.”
Even from far away, Lo’ak felt the sting of those words. The hurt of still not being listened to.
“No?” His voice cracked as he laughed bitterly through tears. “Well how about that time I came to help you and you thought I was him? Because Eywa forbid your other son does anything right.”
Silence greeted him on the other end. The sea filled the space. Lo’ak’s hand shifted away from his comms towards the gun, but he quickly brought it back.
“Right?!” He asked louder. Angrier.
Back in the village, where he stood at the edge of the platform, Jake lowered his head. His ears flattened against his skull as the weight of those words settled in his chest. The water below shifted lazily around the woven pathways while the clan moved quietly nearby, unaware.
He wanted to push back. To explain. To tell Lo’ak it wasn't like that, but the distant view of the boy sitting alone on the beach stopped him cold. One wrong word and he might lose him for good.
“I’m listening.” He said finally. The words came out rough in his throat.
Lo’ak’s shoulders shook harder. Withholding the sob that threatened to come out.
“All my life you’ve put me second. Pushed me around and ordered me to be more like my brother.” His voice cracked. “But I’m not him, dad. I’m not— I didn't—”
The sentence broke apart. He cut off comms before his dad could hear his sob.
Jake closed his eyes. For a moment he could see Neteyam’s face just as clearly as he saw Lo’ak’s.
“I’m sorry.” His voice dropped lower. Moving away from the village. “I am. More than you’ll know. I don’t wanna lose you too.”
“You have though,” Lo’ak’s fingers tightened on the barrel of the weapon. “You lost me when you blamed me. You treated me like I'd done it. Like I killed him.” His breath shuddered. “Like it should’ve been me instead.”
Jake’s chest seized.
“Hey no. No.” His voice came out all at once in panic. “I never wanted you gone. I was wrong, okay? Completely. I see that now.”
The wind carried the distant call of an ilu somewhere in the reef. For a moment, neither of them spoke more.
Lo’ak dipped forward, braids sliding across his shoulders as his body folded in on itself momentarily. Straightening himself back up.
Jake started walking. Running. Letting the beach roll beneath him and the water splashing carelessly against his legs as he kept his eyes on Lo’ak’s form.
Each step carried him farther from the village and closer to the stretch of shore where he could just barely make out his boy sitting alone in the sand.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here,” Jake pleaded breathlessly into the comms, slowing to a stop. “Everything I ever did was to keep you safe.”
“I wasn’t safe though, was I? Neteyam wasn’t safe! None of us are. You used it as an excuse.”
Lo’ak lifted his head to the stars, eyes glassy and red. Not daring to look back, even when he’d heard his approach. “Why did you always punish me?”
Jake stopped walking. The truth sat heavy on his heart.
“Because…” He forced the word out. “Because you are just like me…”
He swallowed hard.
“…And I don’t know how to deal with that.”
The confession hung in the air between them.
“It wasn’t fair on you,” Jake continued quietly. “I was trying to knock the worst parts of myself out of you before the world could. But I see now, all that did was make things worse…”
The waves once again crept a little closer up the sand near Lo’ak’s knees. If only his pain could wash away as easily.
“…And it’s not going to be like that again,” Jake finalized.
Lo’ak stared down at the gun in his hands. For the longest time, it felt like it was the only way to make the pain stop. His voice was small when it came through.
“All I ever wanted was to be loved by you.”
Jake’s breath caught in his throat. “And I do love you.” His voice filled with conviction. “Lo’ak, I really do. I've watched you grow up. Take your first steps. All of it. Do you not know how incredible you are?”
He could see him more clearly now. The boy sat hunched on the shore with Prometheus high above, casting long purple shadows across the water. Dancing as the waves moved.
Jake didn’t move any closer.
“I’m going to come over there,” he said softly. “Okay?”
The sand crunched faintly under his feet.
“Lower the gun. Please.”
Lo’ak heard it, the footsteps, his ears twitched back. For a moment panic flared in his chest, eyes flicking around for some semblance of escape. Then he looked down again at the shaking weapon in his hands.
He thought of Neteyam. Tsireya and the ocean songs the Metkayina children sometimes sang at night. Of his mother, his sisters and Spider. His dad still walking toward him even now.
The gun slipped from beneath his chin. It fell into the sand with a soft thud. Lo’ak collapsed forward, his hands pressing into the sands, sobbing uncontrollably.
Jake crossed the last stretch of beach in a few quick strides.
He dropped to his knees in the sand and water, pulling Lo’ak into his arms. The boy folded against him instantly, clutching at his dad’s shoulders like he might disappear. Jake wrapped his tail loosely around Lo’ak the way Na’vi parents would when their children were small.
“I’ve got you, son” he murmured, holding him tight. “I’ve got you. I'm right here.”
Lo’ak buried his face against his shoulder, tears soaking into the woven band across Jake’s chest. Wet sand smeared across skin from his hands but neither of them cared about that.
The crushing weight in his chest eased just a little. The ocean continued to roll in impassively against the shores beside them.
“Listen to me,” Jake spoke tenderly, his voice raw and pained. His tone held that hitch like he was barely keeping it together. “Things are going to change from now on. Okay? We’re going to work on this. I'm going to work on this.”
The words settled heavily between them.
Lo’ak could only nod.
The lump in his throat and the sharp ache in his chest held any words prisoner. His breath shuddered as he tried to steady it, but the crying would not stop. His ears stayed pinned low against his braids, and his tail curled tightly against his dad without even realizing it.
Jake watched the small movement.
Even now Lo’ak still leaned toward him without thinking. Some instinct from when he had been small enough to ride on his shoulders still trusted the hold.
Jake shifted carefully in the sand and reached up, large hands moving to cup the sides of his son’s smaller face. His thumbs brushed lightly along the damp streaks beneath Lo’ak’s eyes, guiding his head up so their gaze would meet.
“I see you,” he said quietly. “And I am so sorry if I drove you to do this.”
The confession sat heavily in Jake’s heart. Saying it out loud made the guilt real. All the moments he had missed. The signs—were there any? All the times he’d pushed instead of listening. He went over it all.
Lo’ak stared at him for a moment. Something fragile flickered behind his eyes. Then he nudged out of the loose hold and threw his arms around his dad properly, burying himself. His sandy fingers clung to his dad with desperate need.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Jake murmured against his braids. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll try.”
The wind shifted softly off the ocean, carrying the distant sounds of the Metkayina village behind them. Evening songs were beginning to rise over the water. Jake tightened his hold slightly.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you. I promise. I'm so glad you're still here son.”
Lo’ak’s grip on him tightened in response. He didn't speak yet. The hurt still there; tangled painfully deep inside him. But he’d chosen to stay. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he did not pull away.
When Toruk Makto is called, no one stays behind. Chapter 2 of a canon-divergent story taking place after FAA. Neteyam survived his battle wounds, there's more trouble on the horizon, and Jake has been called to aid another clan on a new frontier. 720 words. Masterlist
Chapter 1 is here.
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——
Her head tilted back to look for Jake in the glittering night. The years had aged him some. He’d filled out and grown into himself. The forests and seas had been kind to him, but the war hadn’t.
Even now, she still sometimes sees that skxawng that stomped around the forest like a child, slapping away the spirits and eating dirt.
Jake dropped down beside her and gave her a warm smile. His arm brushed up against hers. “Hey, baby.”
“It is not your watch yet.” She angled her head away from him in feigned dismissal, though the hint of a smile on her face told of her contentment to have him there.
“I know. Couldn’t sleep.” He stated, turning to look to the forest with her. “You aren’t there with me.”
“Once we are somewhere safe, we’ll all sleep a little better.” She reassured him. Reaching out to squeeze his hand.
She knew whatever stresses she felt, he’d likely been feeling them by the tenfold. Neytiri was no fool, she could see it in his ageing eyes. It pained her that she couldn’t take the burden of responsibility away.
“Lie down here.” She offered instead. Gesturing with her head in a nod, inviting him to her lap. Jake didn’t need to be asked twice. He couldn’t think of anything more appealing to him. He scooted to lay down, tucking his head away onto her warm thighs with a hand beneath it. Looking out to the forest with her. A soft sigh.
She glanced down at him once, but returned to her watch. Hand slowly resting on his arm. The other on her bow. Fingers stroked gently in a slow circular motion. The same motion she’d used on Tuk during those times her little one fought sleep.
A quiet melody came easily from Neytiri. Hummed into the air. A song she used to sing a lot while growing up. One of closeness and their path toward Eywa. Of hope and warmth for the future. It was somber at times, and alone felt like a single drop of rain in an ocean of stillness. But it was beautiful nonetheless.
She realised she’d thought about the ocean again. Maybe she did miss them, in her own way. But it also made her sad to think about it for too long.
Jake shifted his head, fighting sleep—content to simply lie there and keep the outside world from encroaching in on their space. His words were quiet, barely audible, but she heard them anyway. She finished her song.
“Would it upset you if we didn’t go back?”
To where? She thought. Her heart was pulled in all directions. “Yes,” Neytiri answered truthfully, “But it wouldn’t be your fault. And I trust this-” She slid her hand to his chest, pressing over where his heart gave her the strongest beat.
“Where is this coming from, ma Jake?” Her voice was tender now, soothing him in ways he sometimes needed. She was once to be Tsahik, perhaps now a wanderer, but never forgetting her roots.
“I’m just…” he tried to find the words without really saying them. Opting to halfheartedly shrug instead. “Tired.” She exhaled slowly, thoughtfully. Half amused by his stubbornness to not talk when it was important, yet still empathetic to his needs.
“Eywa will provide. It’s brought us this far. She’ll walk with us the rest of the way. Put your faith into that.” A pause, “She loves you.”
I love you.
He shifted onto his back, looking up at her now. His hand reaching to cover hers against his chest. “If she loves me this much—think you could ask her to dial it up a bit so I don’t have to?”
Neytiri huffed and he smiled a little when she didn’t pull her hand away.
“I’m done with you. You should sleep now, close your eyes.” She ordered him without any real bite. Jake smiled more and complied.
Her hand slipped away from his to reach up, thumbing along the bridge of his nose to those eyebrows. Fingers pressing in at the pressure points over them before going up into his hair. Weaving between dreadlocks, she gently scratched and massaged his scalp. His ears went back, and she felt him relax into it.
Ahead, she watched movement rustle in the distant leaves.
Previous chapter | Next chapter
Choose your own adventure
Jake falls asleep in Neytiri’s lap, continuing the journey towards the new clan
-slams table- THE SOFT MOMENT IS NOT OVER UNTIL I SAY IT IS
A single injured animal wanders into view. Something on it is blinking
Peace after the first war settles over Pandora. Pregnancy cravings were a whole other battle Neytiri had to face. A fluffy snapshot into married life, early parenthood, and the joys of being with the one she loves. 750 words. Masterlist
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----
“I want some dawn fruit,” Neytiri pouted from her curled place in the hammock, voice soft but insistent.
Jake twisted beside her to glance down at his wife. The woven fibers creaked beneath their weight, swaying gently. A slow morning in the forest. It still caught him sometimes, how quiet it was now. No gunships. No destruction. No RDA. She was finally able to take this pregnancy easy. Though his idea of easy and hers never quite matched.
He‘d spent months trying to get her off her feet. Now, in this last stretch, she seemed to be letting him. A little more, at least.
“Well great,” He said lightly, “Let’s go get you some dawn fruit.”
“I don’t want to go.”
She dipped her head to press into his chest. Tail curling around his thigh like she never had any intention of moving.
“But you want some dawn fruit?” His eyebrow cocked up, he was starting to clock on to the real ask.
“Baby wants some dawn fruit.” She clarified, eyeing him with that practiced innocence.
Jake huffed a breath through his nose. “…the baby? You’re having a secret conversation with our child and they want dawn fruit?”
“They want some dawn fruit and winzaw meat.”
Of course they did. He had laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest where her ear rested. The idea of their child already making demands both unsettled and warmed him in equal measure.
“A very refined palate,” He muttered, “Considering it’s sucking everything through a placenta. Just thinking about our poor old baby sat in there~”
He smacked his lips together dramatically. “Mmm… needs more buoyfish. No wait! Fruit that’ll take all day to find.” More sucking noises came from him, “And the best meat dad can find? Is that what they’re telling you? I’m so confused darling.”
He wasn’t really confused. He just liked hearing her laugh. Liked the way her shoulders shook against him, the way her hand pressed into him like she was trying to hold on to the moment.
“How do you think I feel when you don’t go and get me dawn fruit?” She argued through a grin.
He knew he was going. He always would go for her. But she expected the performance, and he was more than willing to give it.
“I think the baby has possessed you and is talking through your mouth. Well HoW dO yOu ThInK I fEeL wHeN yOu DoN’t-“
He couldn’t finish, her laughter cut him off and broke into his own, hand shoving at his chest.
“Come on,” She whined playfully, “I neeeeed it.” Shifting to try and get comfortable, pressing her chin to his chest. There was a faint crease between her brows he didn’t miss. She was tired. Even when she refused to admit it.
Jake with another accent again, sounding more possessed just to keep her smiling; “I nEeD iT.”
He shifted to half get up, leaning in over her like he was about to kiss her. For a moment he simply looked at her. The curve of her stomach beneath his hand. The life inside. Their life.
“I will go get you your stupid fucking dawn fruit.” He grinned down at her ruefully. No real bite behind it, only the simple devotion of a loving husband.
“If you would be so kind.” Neytiri batted her lashes, reaching up to pinch at his chin.
“Did I not bond with you in sickness and in health? I don’t remember it saying in pregnancy, but here we are. All lumped into one.”
“It’s the sickness.” She corrected.
Jake snorted. “Pregnancy is the sickness?”
“It’s the sickness part.”
“And your cure… is dawn fruit?”
“And winzaw meat.” She nodded solemnly.
“Ah. The winzaw. Who could forget.”
He carefully inched his arm out from under her, already missing her warmth. Before pulling away completely, he leaned down over the swell of her stomach. His voice lowered, meant only for the small heartbeat beneath.
“Are you sure you want dawn fruit?”
Neytiri answered for their child in a serious, tiny voice; “Yes.”
Jake froze dramatically, eyes widening when he pulled back. “Oh my god. I think I heard them. We've got an early bloomer, darling.”
But she was laughing again when she reached for him, he leaned up to press a kiss against her forehead. Climbing carefully out from their hammock to not disturb her.
He would bring back the fruit. And the meat. And probably half the forest if she asked.
Spider refuses to run, even as Quaritch tries to pull him out of the burning base. All he cares about is getting back to free Jake. When he finally finds him, Jake is on his knees in the wreckage. A short lil angst taking place during an alternative AFAA when Neytiri attacked Bridgehead. 470 words. Masterlist. Tag list.
Warning: Major character death
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Spider wouldn’t give Quaritch a chance to hold his grip. Throwing limbs about, kicking off the ground and off of Quaritch to try and force himself apart. The man was like vines, every time he broke one another would appear. Spider hissed up a storm and nashed his teeth at him whenever an arm got too close to his face.
The construction suit came up, cinching at his neck as he was scruffed. They were pulled in the opposite direction of the buildings. The words of leaving registering a second later. Spider struggled harder.
“No! M’NOT-” He yelled through a muffle, kicking out and swinging wildly like a feral cat on a leash. A tornado in the eye of a storm. Finding a break in the scruffing to yell at him again.
“I’m not leaving without Jake! Let me go!” A final plead, “Please! He needs my help!”
"You're a little shit you know that?"
Breaking the grip he made a run for it. Darting away as fast as his little legs could carry him. Part of a fire exploded out from one of the fuel lines causing Spider to fall back to avoid getting licked by the flames.
Scrambling, he looked up to see Quaritch right there, towering over him. Still following him.
His eyes narrowed but when he was lifted again he wasn’t dragged in any direction.
“Come on!” he barked impatiently, breaking out in another run towards the cell.
Slowing his roll when he saw the empty destroyed cell. More gunfire, Spider broke into a run towards that. Keeping to the shadows, trying to stay out of sight.
He didn’t look back to see if Quaritch followed.
All he cared about was getting to Jake.
When he found him. His feet slowed to a stop. Watching the orange jumpsuit on his knees by the dead ikran sprawled out. Sa’ata had been gunned down. Neytiri’s limp body dragged from the carcass and pulled up into Jake’s arms to hold. His body shook but no sound came from him.
A discarded gun lay off to his side. Plenty of dead enemies around him but it was only a matter of time before more would come.
Jake wasn’t moving. Spider’s heart lurched.
He wasn’t leaving. So lost in his own grief he’d lost any fight he had left in him.
Spider ran to him. Throwing himself around his back to hug him tight. Use his body as a shield to protect him should more of the RDA or Mangkwan show up.
All while Quaritch looked on.
Caught between helping or ending it.
Not while his son was there. With a frustrated hiss in his throat, he pitched a call to Cupcake and jogged toward his Ikran. Flying her in close to Jake and the boy.
Before she was a warrior, Neytiri was the best student in Grace Augustine’s classroom. A fluffy student/teacher and sibling fic, taking place before the first movie. 1k words. Masterlist. Tag list.
Written for Women of Pandora Week 2026, tysm @womenofpandoraweek for hosting this lovely event!
Prompt: Day 1, Pre-canon
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“For the last time,” Grace complained, though it came out halfhearted, “If you throw creations around in class you cannot yell random human words to get out of it.”
The group of students only giggled harder. Tails flicking and shoulders bumping together as they whispered conspiratorially.
She lifted the woven ikran that had struck her shoulder a moment earlier, examining the crooked wings. “And you better have better aim.”
She tossed the toy back into the circle.
The Na’vi children scattered with delighted shrieks, long limbs and tails tangling as they dove for it. Grace tried to hold the stern face a teacher was supposed to have, but it cracked quickly. A smile spread across her blue face, tail swishing behind her in quiet satisfaction while the children piled over each other.
She’d never get tired of this job.
Doctor Grace Augustine, the renowned xenobotanist and xenoanthropologist, reduced to playing referee to toy fights in a wooden classroom on Pandora. If someone back at Hell’s Gate could see her now, they’d never let her live this down. Still, she wouldn't trade it for the world.
She clapped her hands together. “Alright, circus over. Monkeys sit.”
The students shuffled back to their woven seats. Some still giggling, some pretending they had not just been wrestling on the floor. Neytiri slipped into place among them, eyes bright and alert.
She had begged her parents to come here.
The halfway school near the sky people had been a strange rumor at first. A place where Na’vi children and sky people learned together. Neytiri had latched onto the idea the moment she heard it whispered among friends.
It had taken relentless pleading. It wasn’t until her sister tag-teamed did they relent. Neytiri still remembered the triumphant look they shared when permission was finally given.
Though it came with about a hundred rules; Don't wander. Don't trust the sky people too quickly. Always stay together.
Those rules mattered less when Neytiri was here, surrounded by her friends and the strange, fascinating things Grace brought from the sky people world.
Her favourite were the tablets.
There once were more, Grace said. Many more. But accidents had slowly claimed them. A drop here, a cracked screen there, testing teeth everywhere. Now only two remained working.
Access was a prized reward. And that meant Neytiri tried very, very hard to be the best student.
She listened carefully. Answered questions quickly. Practiced the strange human sounds until her tongue couldn’t twist that way any further. All for that glorious five minutes during break where she could hold that tablet between her hands.
Break came, the other children rushed outside. Already chasing each other through the tall undergrowth between trees. Neytiri curled into the corner of the classroom instead, tablet balanced carefully on her knees.
Her fingers moved clumsily across the glowing screen. Engrossed by it.
The images shifted until she found the one she loved most. Creatures from another world. Two-legged beasts with strange plant-like feathers and long necks. Fields of endless green reminded her of the plains. A shadow fell across her shoulder.
“What’s that?” Sylwanin asked, leaning down beside her and peering over.
Neytiri did not look away from the screen.
“Grace calls it a ‘useless clone’.”
Sylwanin blinked at the tablet showing her these strange creatures. Her head twisted to look one way then another. Trying to make sense of it.
“Huh. It’s silly looking. That giant body and tiny head. Looks like a plant.”
Neytiri snorted softly. She had the exact same thought the first time she first saw it.
“Look at these things they used to have,” Neytiri said, tapping the screen.
She switched videos. Sylwanin gasped immediately and grabbed the tablet from her hands.
“Hey!” Neytiri barked, reaching to snatch it back.
“You showed me!” Sylwanin argued, holding it out of reach. She'd been there a minute and was already scrolling and ruining tablet time.
“That doesn't mean you take it, skxawng! Give it back!”
They tugged it back and forth, voices rising. Sylwanin laughed while Neytiri scowled, her tail thrashing in irritation. Insults were thrown.
The argument grew louder until a familiar blue hand swiped the tablet.
Grace stood above them and Neytiri froze immediately. Her chest tightened and tears pinched in the corners of her eyes before she could stop them. She was certain she had just ruined everything. Lost her chance at the tablets forever. Her whole day was ruined and it was all Sylwanin’s fault.
The older woman glanced between the two sisters.
“Wow,” Grace muttered. “Five minutes alone and it’s already a full blown war.”
They both tried to talk over each other before Grace shushed them. Sylwanin tried to look innocent. It was clear by their faces who the perpetrator was here. Grace pointed toward the door.
“Out. Go play.”
Sylwanin hesitated, glancing to Neytiri, then reluctantly slipped back outside.
The room suddenly felt too quiet.
Grace crouched down beside Neytiri, resting her elbows on her knees. She handed the tablet back slowly.
“I know your sister drives you crazy,” Grace said. “Believe me, I have a whole team back at base that do that for me.”
Neytiri sniffed.
Grace reached out and placed a hand gently on the top of her head, smoothing the braids there.
“She’s supposed to annoy you. That’s a best friend in the making right there. I can’t fire my team and you can’t fire your sister—As much as I’m sure we’d both love to.”
She leaned back with a sigh, glancing toward the open entrance.
Teaching plants was easy. Teaching feelings was definitely not part of her job description.
“So just... play nice or I’ll bang your heads together.”
Neytiri’s tearful eyes shot up. Widening with concern.
“Really?”
Grace winced instantly. Regretting her choice of words.
“No, sorry. Human expression.” She paused, searching her memory for the Na’vi way of saying it. “Your tails should be tied together until you find the same path to walk.”
That landed better. Neytiri’s ears lowered in understanding. She loved Sylwanin. Everyone knew that. Even when they fought like cats, she still followed her sister everywhere like a small shadow.
Grace gently wiggled Neytiri’s head once before standing again.
Outside came the unmistakable sound of more trouble. Another match to referee, probably. It caused Grace to sigh.
Of course there was more trouble.
She stepped out of the schoolhouse just in time to see a group of curious little Na’vi getting into a broken crate. Important papers fluttered into the air like startled birds.
Grace planted her hands on her hips.
“Are you all done causing trouble?” She called.
The children froze for a second, then bolted in all directions.
Grace groaned inwardly, seeing all of her well-curated work scattered. That crate had been written studies and equipment meant for pickup later. Leaving it outside had clearly been a mistake on her part.
“Alright, I’ll take that as a no. Break’s over. Come on you lot. Back inside.”
A chorus of complaints followed as the children slowly emerged from hiding. Tails dragging, ears flattening dramatically. Grace held back a smile at the sight of it.
Considering all the chaos they left in their wake, they did listen when called.
They settled back into the classroom. Neytiri handing the tablet over without being asked. Grace carefully placed it back on her desk.
“Now,” She said, clapping her hands together. “Can anyone tell me how plants get their luminosity?”
Ears perked up. A few hands shot up immediately.
Grace felt a quiet warmth settle in her chest as she looked over the eager faces.
For all the trouble they caused, she genuinely loved every second of it.
