A Mother's Tears | Jake Sully x Reader
PART 1: A MOTHER KNOWS | PART 2: A MOTHER'S JOY | PART 3: YOU ARE HERE | PART 4: A MOTHER'S GRIEF
Last and final part of A Mother Knows series.
Word count: 2.2k
Pairing: Jake Sully x fem!reader, mother!reader and son!Neteyam
Description: Out of all of your children, Neteyam finds it the hardest to adapt to your new home in the reef, causing him to lash out at you.
Based on this request.
Content Warnings: Neteyam is hurting big time, arguing, Reader being sad, angst.
Author's note: This is the last part in A Mother knows and I am feeling a little sad about it. I am glad that I got to write about Neteyam and Reader in this part and delve into their relationship a little more. I hope you like it!
Playlist: Not a Lot, Just Forever - Adrienne Lenker Shake Me Down - Cage the Elephant My Tears Ricochet - Taylor Swift
Na’vi words used: Parultsyìp - darling, little loved one Sa’nu - Mom Sempu - Dad Tsurak - Skimwing
“You are not even my mother, leave it alone,” Neteyam grumbled as your family sat around the fire, laughing and talking about your days before you all went to the evening meal.
The words hit you like a slap to the face and you froze, eyes already blinking back tears.
You had not meant to be overbearing, merely suggested he go the extra mile to make friends with Aounung and the other young Metkayina boys. If he could make some friends here then maybe he would not feel so much like a pariah. Maybe it would make him feel just a little less homesick, something you were all desperately trying to do. You had no thoughts that you might be touching on a nerve.
His words had caused the room to pause, everyone waited with bated breath as Jake’s fury rose like a tidal wave. Even you looked uncertainly at your mate. He had been so tense lately, so wound up from trying to make uprooting your life seem a little less of a big deal and failing miserably. Surely this would be what rocked the boat.
“Don’t,” Jake spat, pointing a finger at his oldest, “talk to my mate like that.”
“Sempu, she was-” Neteyam started but his brother interrupted him.
“Do not disrespect mom!” Loaks hissed, “She raised you, skxawng!”
“Only because my mother died! Because she was quick to move in and steal dad,” Neteyam ground out, eyes glaring up at you through slitted lids.
You had noticed he had become more moody recently. Quicker to verbally attack you and Jake for every perceived mistake since coming to the reef. But he had never gone this far to hurt you like this. If anything, you had thought his anger laid with Jake.
“That’s it, boy,” Jake demanded, standing up and grabbing Neteyam by the back of his neck, yanking him up.
“Jake, it is okay,” you said, standing also to mediate better, holding your hands out as if taming a wild tsurak.
Tuk ran up to you and hugged your waist, looking fearfully between her brother and her father. You laid a hand on her head, grateful for the comfort of your sweet girl even as she sought it from you as well.
“No, it's not. No son of mine will talk to you that way,” He turned to Neteyam and pointed his finger at you, “Those were the hardest days of her life, of my life. She could have walked away, she had every right, but she stayed for you, boy. Changed your diapers and fed you when I couldn't. She sang you songs and told you stories before I had the strength. She lost sleep for a year because you would cry and she was the only one who could get you to stop,” his voice broke and it caused your tears to finally fall.
Jake saw your crying eyes and he shook his head at Neteyam, “Go take a walk, cool off. I don't want to even look at you right now,” he ordered, letting go of his son.
Neteyam stumbled to the door and ducked out of the Sully home without a glance back.
As the flap fell over the marui and closed you in. You collapsed to your knees, careful not to bring Tuk down with you. You pulled her into your lap and held her as you sat numbly, not sure what to think or feel.
“Sa’nu?” Kiri asked, kneeling beside you and laying a hand on your shoulder.
“I am okay, my girl,” you gave her a watery smile and you knew she did not believe it. Jake slid to the floor beside you and wrapped an arm around you.
Lo’ak looked torn between staying to comfort you, and going to yell at his brother. “Lo’ak go take your sisters to dinner.” Jake ordered and your son nodded, holding out a hand for Tuk to take but she hesitated, holding on to you still.
“I want to stay with you, Sa’nu,” she muttered, and it cracked your heart a little more.
“I am okay, peanut,” you said, using the human nickname your mate had come up with when she was born. The word still sounded foreign on your tongue years after learning the term of affection.
“Are you sure?” Tuk asked, hugging your neck and holding you close.
“I am fine,” you repeated, drying some of your tears for your children’s sake.
“Feel better, mama,” Tuk said, untangling herself from you and getting up to join Lo’ak and Kiri. Lo’ak sent Jake a nod as his sisters turned to leave.
“Thank you, my girl,” you muttered as they walked through the door, letting the cover fall closed behind them.
You tried to suck in a fortifying breath, but as Jake started rubbing your back, sobs racked your body and you felt every wall crumble. “It’s okay baby, he didn't mean it. It's gonna be okay,” Jake mumbled into your hair, bringing you flush against his chest so you would lean on him.
“He only says what he means. We raised him that way,” you stuttered.
“No, baby. He’s angry at me. He misses home and he’s blaming us for it,” Jake reassured you, gripping the back of your neck firmly in one hand.
You did not argue anymore with him, just let him hold you and when night enveloped your home and the children started trickling in, Jake had already tucked you into your shared hammock.
Your back faced the door and you pretended to be asleep even as more water fell down your face. You could not face your children tonight. You could not bear their pitying looks or the shame in your belly.
The thought depressed you that Neteyam really thought you stole Jake away from Neytiri, that you took over her life like stepping into new clothes.
You laid awake as you heard three little bodies settle into their beds and eventually a fourth, larger body crawl in behind you. Jake wrapped an arm around your waist and held you throughout the night.
The next morning, you peeled fruit in your hands, even as they shook. You had not slept much the night before, tossing and turning in your hammock, jostling Jake even as he tried to hold you. You had heard the rustle of your children's hammocks swaying late into the night too, indicating they had not slept well either.
Neteyam had crept in at a late hour, and it comforted you somewhat that he was safe under your roof, but his poisonous words about you still gnawed at your mind. Maybe he was right. Did you really have any right to dictate anything about him? That should be Neytiri’s job, yet you were still conflicted about your role in her son’s life all these years after her death.
“Hey baby, how’re you doin’?” Jake asked, stepping into the otherwise empty marui.
“I am fine, Ma’Jake,” you said tiredly, tossing the fruit in a small basket as he leaned his shoulder against the pole in the middle of the home to watch you carefully. It was your 15 years of partnership that alerted you he was holding back words.
“What is it?” you sigh, “Spit it out.”
He pushed off of his perch and walked towards you, crouching down to sit. “I saw him just now, he's miserable and so are you.”
Your lips pursed, “So you want me to go talk to him?” you assumed. The thought of confrontation brought a wave of panic to your gut.
“No,” he shook his head, “Only when you’re ready, don't force it.”
“I fear I will never be ready for that,” you said, pausing your hands and setting them in your lap to finally look up at him.
“You will be, when the time is right and the wound isn't so fresh. He feels bad, he knows he’s in the wrong,” Jake explained, his tail curling around your leg.
“Because you yelled at him loud enough for the entire village to hear,” you grumbled.
“I did not,” Jake refuted. “And if they did, then oh well. He deserved it.”
You shook your head, ears flattening, “If the situation was not quite so horrible, I would appreciate you sticking up for my honor, but you were too harsh on him. He mourns his old life. He is in pain,” you argued.
“So are you. That doesn't give him the right to talk to you like that. I think I went too easy on him if anything,” Jake replied and your shoulders slumped.
“Maybe so, I just need time to think. To heal a little like you said,” you explained, reaching back for the fruit and continuing on with your task.
“Okay, just… know I’m here. We all are,” he said, “I love you baby,”
You smiled waterily, “I love you too, Ma’ Jake.”
-
It had taken all day and many rounds of walking around the island for you to feel somewhat ready to face your oldest son.
You still felt so unsettled about his words. You kept flipflopping between whether he was right or wrong to say them. You knew in your heart that he did not intend to maim you so thoroughly, but the heat of the moment and his own sorrow had escalated his words and his tone. Jake’s anger did not exactly help either.
Even if you did not feel like you were okay yet, you needed to know that he was.
You found him by the docks, his feet in the water as he stared out at the horizon. He had gotten so tall in these past few years, yet still he was the sweet boy you had always known under his serious and responsible demeanor.
You sat hesitantly beside him and lowered your feet in the water as well, appreciating the coolness that it brought you. His sweet face was downcast and you didn't miss the tear tracks on his violet cheeks.
You knew you were not the perfect mother. You had never claimed or pretended to be, but you were his mom, not by birth but by heart. You knew your son was hurting, that the pain in his chest was similar to the one in yours.
“I am sorry,” he choked out quietly and the words stomped on your heart.
You laid a hand on his back as he finally looked up to you. “Talk to me, Neteyam. What can I do differently?” you asked.
“Nothing, Sa’nu. It is me who must change,” he said softly.
“No, my baby. Do not change,” you cooed, reaching your other hand up to tuck braids behind his ear. “You made a mistake, I think you know that, but we are allowed to make mistakes, as long as we fix them.”
Neteyam nodded slowly, “Neytiri’s blood runs through my veins and your teachings in my heart. I have two mothers. I have always known this,” he replied. “I am just angry. I want to go home. I do not understand this place, it is strange to me. I long to see the forest again. I want to stop smelling salt and brine. I hate it here, even when they are kind to me.”
You brought him in to your side, holding him close as he rested his head on your shoulder. “I know how you feel, ‘Teyam. I feel the same,” you agreed,
A droplet of water hit your leg and you realized he was crying again. Your eyes squeezed shut that this caused him so much pain.
“Why has Sempu brought us here? I would rather die in the forest than live on the reef,” he muttered, and your jaw clenched at the thought that you could not fix this for him. That you could not make it better.
“He does this to protect us. The sky people knew we were near and when they took your siblings… we were too close to almost losing them. We will always put your lives first, even if it hurts for now, because it would hurt us far more to lose any one of you,” you explained.
“I know, but it does not make this easy,” he added.
“No, it does not. I am sorry. I wish I could take away all your pain and we could go home, but it is not within my power. If it keeps you safe, then I would not go back home, although my heart longs for it, to see you in the forest happy again,” you said, eyes tearing up again for the hundredth time in the last day.
You continued, “I may not have birthed you, 'Teyam, but you’ll always be my baby boy. Tell me your troubles next time, do not hide them,” you said, smoothing a hand to his hair as his arms finally wrapped around your waist.
“I am sorry,” he mumbled into your shoulder and it broke your heart at hearing his small voice.
“We all say things we do not mean,” you comforted him. “You are forgiven. The blame was never truly yours.”
“I love you, Sa’nu.” he said quietly, his chest no longer shaking as hard and it eased your nerves to hear the words.
“Not as much as I love you, yawntutsyìp.”
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