The avatar fandom is one of those places where you have about 5 months around the film’s release where there is like 20 fics a minute and then complete radio silence until the next film releases 2000 decades later.
Pairing: female!Sully reader x Sully family, female!Sully reader x Neteyam
Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, grief, war themes.
Summary: Loss of the eldest daughter and big sister had been difficult for sully family, especially her twin brother, but what happens when eywa decides that it’s not the end for her?
Words: 5.3k
જ⁀➴
…Weeks later after your death…
The Marui was shrouded in the deep blues of the eclipse. The rest of the family was asleep, or pretending to be. Neteyam was staring at the roof of the tent, Lo’ak was curled tight in a ball, and Jake sat by the entrance, keeping watch with a hardened stare white stripe of paint covering middle of his face and chest.
Neytiri sat in the corner, the light of a single bioluminescent lamp illuminating her hands.
In her lap lay the Songcord.
It was long, winding through years of memories. She traced the beads of her own life, then moved to the smaller cords attached to hers her children's. Her fingers trembled as they found yours. She touched the first bead. The birth. She remembered the chaos of it, the double heartbeat. Her two babies You and Neteyam.
She moved her fingers down. Your first steps,First hunt,The time you fell from the tree, The time you caught your first fish. And then, her fingers stopped at the end.
A new bead was added,It was a pearl, dark and iridescent, harvested from the depths of the Cove of the Ancestors,She brought the cord to her chest, rocking slowly back and forth. The melody started low in her throat, a vibration before it became a sound. It was the melody she had hummed to you when you were inside her, and the melody she sang when she held you for the first time.
“Zola’u nìprrte’ ma y/n”(Welcome, my Y/n)
“Ngati oel munge soaiane “(I welcome you to our family)
“Lie si oe atanur”(I experience the light)
“Pähem parul, tì’ongokx ’awtuta”(The miracle arrives, a birth out of one person)
“Lawnol a mì te’lan”(A great joy ,which is in the heart)
“Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe, tonìri tìreyä Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe, srrìri tìreyä”(We give thanks for the nights of life ,We give thanks for the days of life)
"My fierce heart... my warrior true."
She squeezed the pearl tight, her eyes closing as she pictured your face the smile that was exactly like Neteyam's, but sharper, wilder.
"A father protects and A mother protects..."
"But the water calls and the spirit connects."
"You faced the fire... you welcomed death."
Her voice hitched, turning into a low, keening wail that she quickly stifled, forcing it back into the melody.
"Where are you now?... My beautiful child, my light?"
"With Eywa you sleep.. with Eywa you stay."
"Until I come... to guide your way."
Neytiri stopped singing. The silence that followed was louder than the song.
She looked down at the Songcord one last time. In the past, she sang to celebrate your life ,but tonight, she sang to acknowledge the end of it.
And actoss the tent, Neteyam turned over. He hadn't been sleeping. He had been listening. He let out a shaky breath, pulling his knees to his chest.
જ⁀➴
The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving Pandora bathed in the bioluminescent glow of the eclipse. The ocean was a mirror of the stars, but tonight, Neteyam wasn't looking up. He was looking down.
He sat on rock that jutted out over the Cove of the Ancestors. Below the surface, deep in the trench, the Spirit Tree pulsed with a rhythmic, ethereal light,It was a heartbeat,your heartbeat, now joined with Eywa.
Neteyam ran a hand over his chest. The white ochre paint felt dry and tight against his skin, cracking as he breathed. He felt phantom pains in his chest. You two had been twins. You had shared a womb, shared a childhood, shared a rhythm of existence and now, there was just silence on his right side. A void where your presence used to hum.
The sound of footsteps scuffing against rock broke his trance. He didn't turn , He knew who it was . Heavy, hesitant, dragging with guilt.
"Bro?"
Neteyam exhaled smoke into the cool air. "Hey, little bro."
Lo'ak moved slowly, as if afraid he was intruding. He sat down a few feet away, pulling his knees to his chest. His eyes were red-rimmed, the dark circles under them stark against his blue skin. For a long time, neither spoke,The only sound was the gentle lap of water against the stone and the distant chittering of night creatures.
"I can't see her down there," Lo'ak whispered eventually, his voice thick. "But I know she's there."
"She's there," Neteyam confirmed, his voice flat. "With the ancestors. Probably telling them how to run things."
Lo'ak let out a weak, wet chuckle that died quickly. He picked at a loose piece of moss on the rock. "It should have been me, Neteyam."
Neteyam’s jaw tightened. "Don't."
"I'm serious," Lo'ak insisted, the tears finally spilling over, cutting tracks through the white paint on his cheeks. "I’m the one who wanted to go back. I’m the one who got us pinned down on that ship. She...was hit because of me…that bullet... it was for me."
"It was chaos, Lo'ak," Neteyam said, turning to look at his younger brother. His own eyes were burning, but he refused to let them fall. “”We all were targets."
"But she was covering me." Lo'ak wiped his nose aggressively. "She was always covering me,and you and she never stopped moving Even when she was bleeding... she pushed me onto the tulkun first."
Neteyam looked back at the glowing water. The memory of that moment was painful shard in his mind ,the way the light faded from your eyes so terrifyingly fast. As a twin, he had felt the exact moment the cord was cut. He had felt his soul tear in half.
"I was the oldest," Neteyam said softly. "By five minutes. But I was the oldest. It was my job,Dad said... protect the family. That’s all I had to do." He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. "I was right there,I was right next to her,I should have been faster."
"You couldn't have—"
"I should have taken the hit!" Neteyam snapped, his voice cracking, the soldier facade finally crumbling. "She was my other half, Lo'ak! You don't understand... it’s like walking around with one lung. Like I failed her."
They sat in the heavy silence of their shared guilt. The weight of it was suffocating, enough to drown them both right there on the rocks.
Then, a sudden breeze swept through the cove, ruffling their braids
Neteyam took a shuddering breath then He looked at Lo'ak, who was burying his face in his knees.
"You know what she’d say if she saw us right now?" Neteyam asked quietly.
Lo'ak sniffled, looking up. "What?"
"She’d kick our asses," Neteyam said. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, a painful, tiny smile.
Lo'ak blinked, and then a genuine, albeit watery, smile broke through. " yeah,Yeah, she would."
"She’d walk right up to you," Neteyam continued, his voice gaining a little strength as the memory of you washed over him, "and she’d flick that spot on your forehead.
"And she’d call me a skxawng," Lo'ak added, letting out a breathy laugh. "She’d say, 'Baby brother, stop crying and load the damn magazine.'"
"She’d tell me to fix my face," Neteyam laughed, the sound rusty but real. "Remember when we got caught sneaking out to the Hallelujah Mountains? And Dad was losing his mind?"
"And she stood in front of us," Lo'ak remembered, shaking his head. "She told Dad it was her idea. That she wanted to see the ikran nests,She tried to take the grounding for both of us."
"And then she hit us both in the back of the head as soon as Dad walked away," Neteyam chuckled, wiping a tear from his cheek. "She said, 'If you two idiots get me grounded during the eclipse festival, I will skin you alive.'"
Lo'ak laughed, leaning back on his hands. "She hated it when we got mopey,Remember when I crashed the ilu during training? I was sitting on the beach feeling sorry for myself, and she literally threw a fish at my head."
"A live fish," Neteyam corrected, grinning. "It slapped you right in the face."
"She said, 'The ocean doesn't care about your feelings, Lo'ak. Get back in the water.'" The laughter faded into a comfortable, warm silence. It wasn't the heavy silence of before. It was filled with your presence.
"She wouldn't want this," Neteyam said, gesturing to their slumped postures, the despair radiating off them. "She wouldn't want us sitting here, blaming ourselves for something she chose to do."
"She chose to save us," Lo'ak whispered.
"Yeah," Neteyam agreed, looking down at the spirit tree one last time. "She was stubborn like that. She never let anyone else have the last word. Including the Sky People."
Neteyam stood up, his legs stiff. He reached a hand down to Lo'ak.
"Come on," Neteyam said. "Mom needs us. And if we stay out here looking like wet feral cats, she's going to haunt us."
Lo'ak took his brother's hand and pulled himself up. He looked at the water, then at Neteyam. "Sullys stick together?"
Neteyam gripped Lo'ak's hand tight, pulling him into a rough embrace, resting his forehead against his brother's.
"Sullys stick together," Neteyam whispered.
જ⁀➴
The woven walls of the Marui blocked out the wind, but they couldn't block out the cold that had settled in the center of the room.
Neytiri sat on the floor, surrounded by the small, tangible remnants of a life cut short and In her hands, she held a woven top one of yours,that she made for you. It was stained with sea salt and dried blood ,She ran her long fingers over the stitching, tracing the pattern where the beads had been sewn in. She wasn't crying crying anymore , her face emotionless, eyes staring at a spot on the fabric as if trying to conjure the warmth of the skin that used to be underneath it.
Across from her, Jake sat cross-legged, his movements sharp and precise.
He was working on her arrows ,He was meticulously binding a small, explosive charge to the tip of a long reed shaft, his hands were steady, but his jaw was clenched so hard a muscle feathered beneath the white stripe on his cheek.
They hadn’t spoken since he returned from the beach, The air was thick with the words they were too afraid to say. If they spoke her name, she was truly gone,If they stayed silent, maybe she was just sleeping in the other room.
Jake finished the binding and picked up the heavy blackened bow, Neytiri’s bow, the one Lo'ak had retrieved. He had restrung it.
He moved across the mats, his knees cracking slightly. He set the bow down gently in front of her, placing the explosive tipped arrow beside it.
"I know you won’t give up your bow" Jake said, his voice rough, sounding too loud in the quiet space.thhen he put arrows in front of her. "Keep a good distance when you hit it"
Neytiri finally looked at the weapon. Her hand trembled as she reached out, picked up arrow ,but slowly dropped it closing her eyes.
"You bring fire to a house of water," she whispered.
"I bring you a way to kill them," Jake said, the desperation leaking into his tone. "When they come back. Because they will."
"Is that all there is, Ma Jake?" Her eyes rose to meet his, and they were endless pools of grief.
"It’s my job," Jake snapped, the guilt flaring up like a struck match. He sat back on his heels, running a hand through his hair. "I’m supposed to keep this family safe. That is the one thing... the one thing I am supposed to do. And I failed."
"We fought," Neytiri said softly.
"We ran!" Jake’s voice broke. "We ran from the forest to save them, and I just brought the war here. I put her in the line of fire." He looked down at his hands, seeing blood that wasn't there. "I look at Eywa... I look at this spirit tree... and I don't see a plan, Neytiri. I see a grave. Where was she? Where was the Great Mother when our daughter was bleeding on that deck?"
Neytiri’s posture stiffened. She dropped the shirt and grabbed Jake’s wrist, her grip iron-tight.
"Do not," she hissed. "Do not speak of Her with that poison in your heart."
"She took my child!" Jake yelled, the sound echoing off the water outside. "She took our baby!"
"She is holding our baby!" Neytiri screamed back, her voice shattering the stillness.
The anger drained out of her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a wave of agony so profound she doubled over,She clutched her chest, right over her heart, gasping for air.
"Faith..." Neytiri sobbed, her voice crumbling into broken pieces. "Faith is all I have right now, Ma Jake. If I do not believe she is with the Great Mother... if I do not believe she is safe within the eywa..." She looked at him, tears finally cutting through the white paint on her face. "Then she is just gone. And if she is just gone, I will die."
She picked up the shirt again, burying her face in it, inhaling the fading scent of you. "I cannot hear her," she wailed, a sound of pure, maternal torture. "I listen to the shell, I listen to the wind... my baby,My first daughter,She was part of me.“
Jake stared at her, his composure turning to ash.
He moved forward, collapsing the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her shuddering body against his chest.
"I know," Jake choked out, burying his face in her neck, his own tears finally falling, hot and fast. "I know, baby. I know."
Neytiri clung to him, her fingers digging into his back, wailing into his shoulder. They rocked back and forth on the woven mat, the deadly bow forgotten on the floor beside them, two parents drowning in the ocean of their loss, holding onto each other to keep from going under.
જ⁀➴
The sky was the color of a bruise a swirling mix of smoke, storm clouds, and the unnatural orange glow of burning ships. The Metkayina village of Awa’atlu was in ruins. The RDA’s new fabrication modules, bolstered by the terrifying aggression of the Ash People clan lead by their tsahik Varang , had pushed the reef clans to the breaking point.
Jake fired his last magazine, the recoil jarring his exhausted shoulder. He threw the empty rifle down and drew his axe. Beside him, Neteyam was fighting like a demon, He moved with a reckless speed, cutting down Ash warriors who tried to board their commandeered skimwing.
But there were too many of them.
"Fall back!" Jake roared, his voice hoarse. "Get to the rocks! Loa’k stay with your sisters!"not knowing he was already out in the sky.
Neytiri was screaming in rage, her bow singing death, but even she was being forced back. The RDA Recoms were advancing, their heavy machine guns tearing through the cover. The Ash People, coated in gray dust and wielding obsidian edged spears, surged forward like a tide of darkness.
"Ma jake It’s over," Neytiri gasped, holding onto her ikran.
They were trapped against the cliff edge. The ocean raged below, churned up by the engines of the demon ships,Hope was a dying ember ,They had fought for weeks, fueled by grief and vengeance, but vengeance could not stop bullets.
In the center of the chaos, Kiri dropped to her knees. She didn't pick up a weapon. She grabbed her queue, her hands shaking, and slammed the neural connection into a patch of bioluminescent moss clinging to the rock.
"Ma Eywa," she screamed, and walked towards light , trying to resist the powerful wind ,which was holding her back. "Hear me! You took my sister! You took our heart! Do not take our home too! HEAR ME!"then spider and joined her , to walk towards light. The battlefield went silent for a split second, a vacuum of sound.
Then, the planet answered.
It started as a vibration in the teeth, a hum in the bones, The water erupted. Hundreds of Tulkun breached the surface simultaneously, their armored bodies acting as living shields against the RDA ships. They weren't just the outcast Payakan this time,it was the pod. From the sky, the clouds broke. A screeching wall of sound descended as thousands of Ikran, storm gliders, and even the smaller stingbats dived. They were wild, and they swarmed the Ash People's aircraft, clogging the rotors with their bodies, tearing at the cockpits with talons.
"Eywa..." Kiri breathed, watching a massive payakan launch itself onto the deck of a Sea Dragon, crushing a squad of soldiers. "She answered." The tide of battle shifted violently. The people on RDA shops panicked. The Ash warriors looked to the sky in fear.
But the greatest miracle wasn't happening on the surface. It was happening deep, deep below.
The water here was usually still, but today, the Spirit Tree was thrashing. Its glowing tendrils, usually a soft calming violet, were pulsing with a blinding, golden white light.
You floated there, suspended in the roots. You had been dead for weeks,Your skin was pale, your eyes closed, your chest still. The sea life had begun to claim you,tiny luminescent barnacles dotted your arm guards, and sea grass was woven through your hair.
But Kiri’s scream had traveled through and It had hit the Spirit Tree like a lightning bolt.
Eywa, the Great Mother, does not give and take in the way humans understand. She maintains the balance,She holds all energy,But sometimes... sometimes the energy is too fierce to be held and Sometimes, a warrior's song is not finished.
The roots wrapped tighter around your waist and chest,the golden light intensified, becoming searingly hot.
The bullet wound in your chest the dark, ugly hole that had stolen your life began to glow and heal,The tissue knitted together. The blood, stagnant in your veins, was suddenly charged with bio-energy.
Just then your heart gave a single, violent kick.
The water around you vibrated,the energy transferred from the Tree into you,It was a jolt, a shock of life more painful than the death had been.
Your eyes snapped open.
જ⁀➴
The sky above the was a churning cauldron of black smoke and screaming engines.
Neteyam urged his Ikran, into a steep dive ,the wind roared in his ears, tearing at his braids,He was exhausted. his quiver was down to his last three arrows, and his heart was hammering against his ribs ,not with fear, but with a hollow, desperate acceptance.
He was fighting like a man who had nothing left to lose. Since you died, a part of him had been trying to find a way to join you without dishonoring the family.
"Break right!" Lo’ak’s voice crackled over the comms, breathless and panicked.
Neteyam banked hard, narrowly missing a burst of machinegun fire from an RDA SA-2. He returned fire, his arrow piercing the cockpit glass, sending the pilot into a spin.
But the Ash People were different. They didn't fight with machines,they fought with hate and fire.
An Ash warrior, riding a massive, scarred mountain banshee with skin the color of charcoal, surged up from the smoke below,He was painted in grey and ochre.
Neteyam pulled back his bowstring, but his fingers slipped on the sweat and blood. The shot went wide.
Damn it.
He tried to reload, but his banshee shrieked, barrel rolling to avoid the Ash warrior’s spear. The maneuver disoriented Neteyam for a split second.
In that second, he lost the advantage and the Ash warrior banked sharply, disappearing into a cloud of thick, oily smoke. Neteyam scanned the horizon, his chest heaving. "Where is he..."
The Ash warrior had pulled a silent loop and was now hovering directly at Neteyam’s right, the warrior raised a modified RDA rifle a heavy, ugly thing meant to tear through a bone.
Neteyam yanked on the neural queue, trying to dive, but he knew he was too late ,He stared down the barrel of the gun. The Ash warrior grinned, a cruel expression.
Time seemed to slow down. Neteyam squeezed his eyes shut.
But bullets never came, instead a piercing cry shattered the air,It wasn't the guttural roar of the Ash banshees. It was a high, musical, terrifyingly familiar shriek.
Neteyam’s eyes snapped open From above, a streak of blue and yellow appeared. It was your Ikran. It had been missing since your death, vanished into the wild, but now it was here, diving with a speed that defied physics.
And it wasn't empty.
You sat there, effortless in the saddle. You were soaking wet. Your hair was loose, loating in the wind. Sea water dripped from your nose and chin But the most terrifying, beautiful thing was your eyes. They were burning with a fierce, electric gold energy, the same energy that flowed through the Spirit Tree.
You lowered your bow, resting it on your thigh. A small, crooked smirk the one you used to give him when you beat him in a race tugged at the corner of your mouth.
"Hello, big bro," you said, your voice raspy from the water but undeniably, miraculously alive. "You look like shit."
Neteyam’s mouth opened, but no sound came out,His hands shook so hard he almost dropped his bow.
"Y/N?" he choked out, the name tearing from his throat like a sob.
"The one and only," you winked, though your eyes softened as you looked at his terrified face. You gestured with your chin toward the battle raging below. "Now, are we going to finish this, or are you going to keep staring at me like I’m a ghost?"
Suddenly, the emptiness in Neteyam’s chest the void that had been there for weeks slammed shut.
He felt your pulse,and let out a wet, hysterical laugh, wiping tears and soot from his face. He gripped his bow, feeling strength flood back into his limbs.
"Let's kill them all," Neteyam said “Sully’s stick together!”
"Lead the way, Ma 'eylan," you replied.
જ⁀➴
The battle had bled out into a smoky, trembling silence, the ash people had retreated, fading back into the volcanic smog like ghosts.
Quaritch, battered and outmatched by the renewed ferocity of the Sullys, had chosen fire over capture, plummeting into a burning ravine rather than facing Neytiri’s blade.
On a large, flat outcropping of rock jutting from the sea, the Sully family reunited. they were a wreck,Jake was favoring his left leg, his chest heaving. Neytiri was wiping black soot from her face, her eyes scanning the sky frantically for her children. Lo’ak was sitting on the ground, holding his head, while Kiri and Tuk clung to each other.
"They're coming!" Tuk squeaked, pointing upward.
Two Ikrans broke through the haze. One was Neteyam’s familiar teal mount. The other was a beast they hadn’t seen in weeks a darker, sleeker creature that had vanished the day you died.
Jake stiffened, his hand instinctively going to his knife,his eyes narrowing. He recognized the mount, but his mind couldn't process why it was here because It should have been in wild. The Ikrans landed heavy and hard, their talons scraping against the stone. Neteyam slid off his mount first, He didn't look like a soldier who had just survived a war,He looked like a man who had seen Eywa,He was grinning a wide, tear-streaked grin that looked manic on his face.
He didn't walk to them ,He turned back to the other Ikran, He reached up a hand, offering it to the rider. "Careful sister," Neteyam said, his voice carrying clearly across the silence. "You're still getting your land legs back."
Neytiri froze,her bow slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly against the rock.You landed on the rock with a soft thud. You were soaking wet, your skin glistening with sea water and a strange, faint bioluminescent sheen that seemed to pulse in time with a heartbeat.
But there was no blood. There was no hole in your chest,Just a swirling, golden pattern of energy where the bullet had been, glowing softly against your blue skin, you looked at them, your golden eyes adjusting to the faces of the people who had buried you.
"Sa’nok,Sempul," you whispered, your voice raspy and small. "I... I think I took a really long nap."
For a span of five seconds, nobody moved, the wind whistled through the rocks. Then, Neytiri made a raw, guttural noise of pure, agonizing disbelief.
"No..." she breathed, stumbling forward,Her hands shook violently. She looked at Jake, as if asking him to wake her from this cruel dream. "Ma Jake...?"
Jake was paralyzed, he was staring at you, his warrior's mask completely shattered. His lower lip trembled. He blinked rapidly, tears spilling over, washing clean tracks through the war paint on his cheeks.
"Baby girl?" Jake choked out, the name barely audible.
You took a hesitant step forward, and that broke the spell.
Neytiri lunged she threw herself at you, She collided with you, dropping to her knees and dragging you down with her, burying her face in your wet, cold stomach. Her hands were everywhere touching your face, your arms, your hair, frantically searching for the wound, checking for the blood that wasn't there.
"Oh, Great Mother... oh, my sweet child... my heart...my daughter " Neytiri sobbed, her voice breaking into wails of hysteria and joy. She gripped you so tight it bruised, terrified that if she let go, you would turn into sea foam and vanish.
"Mom, I'm okay," you cried, tears finally spilling from your golden eyes as you wrapped your arms around her trembling shoulders. "I'm okay,She sent me back,I'm here."
Jake fell to his knees beside you. He wrapped his massive arms around both you and Neytiri, pulling you into his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of the ocean and the ozone smell of Eywa's energy,He sobbed openly, a deep, heaving sound that shook his entire frame.
"I got you," Jake whispered over and over, rocking you. "I got you,I'm not letting go. I'm never letting go."
"Y/N!"
Lo’ak crashed into the pile next, tackling you from the side and he was crying so hard he couldn't speak, just pressing his forehead against your shoulder, gripping your arm.
"I thought—I thought it was my fault," Lo’ak gasped, his voice wrecked. "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry."
"Shut up, skxawng," you laughed through your sobs, freeing a hand to smack the back of his head lightly. "It wasn't your fault. Never your fault." Tuk squeezed in, burrowing into the center of the mass, wailing your name, You kissed the top of her head, feeling the warmth of your family, the solid reality of them.
Only Neteyam stood back, just for a moment, watching. He was crying silently, his chest rising and falling with relief ,He looked at Kiri.
Kiri stood a few feet away. She wasn't crying,She was smiling, a serene, knowing smile. She walked over slowly, crouching down. She didn't hug you immediately,Instead, she placed her hand over the glowing, golden swirl on your chest.
She closed her eyes, feeling the pulse of the Great Mother beating beneath your ribs. "She wasn't ready to say goodbye," Kiri whispered softy. You looked up at Kiri and smiled. "She told me I had work to do."
Jake pulled back, just an inch, cupping your face in his large hands. He looked into your eyes those new, electric eyes and saw the fire of the planet burning in them. He wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.
"I see you, my daughter," Jake said, his voice thick with a gratitude he could never express in words.
"I see you, Dad," you replied.
Neytiri pulled you back down, refusing to share you for another second. The Sully’s were whole once again.
….Week later….
You sat on a large, flat rock that jutted out over the drop off, your legs dangling into the cool water.
You were looking down through the clear water, you could see the distant, glowing of the Spirit Tree.
You absently touched the center of your chest the skin there felt different now warmer than the rest of you,The golden swirl where the bullet had been pulsed softly, a second heartbeat against your fingertips.
"Mom says you shouldn't be out here alone."
You didn't jump, because you had felt him coming long before he spoke.
Neteyam stepped onto the rock, He sat down next to you, close enough that your shoulders brushed.
"I'm not alone," you said quietly, your voice still carrying a slight rasp from the seawater. "I'm with you."
Neteyam let out a breath, leaning back on his hands. He followed your gaze down into the abyss.
"Does it..." He hesitated, struggling with the words. "Does it scare you? Looking at it?"
"No," you answered honestly. "It looks like... home. In a weird way. It’s quiet down there, Neteyam, There’s no war there ,no sky people ,no pain”
Neteyam looked at you then, he looked tired, dark circles under his eyes hadn't fully faded, even after a week of peace. "It was too quiet up here," he whispered.
He looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. "When the bond snapped... it wasn't a noise,It was just... silence. Like half the world just turned off,I kept reaching for you, out of habit. Every time I saw something funny, or stupid, or dangerous, I’d reach out to push the feeling to you,and there was just...nothing."
He turned his head away, staring out at the horizon,”I thought I went crazy. Mom was quiet and Dad was trying to keep us moving... and I was just standing there, feeling half a person."
You reached out, covering his hand with yours "I heard you," you said softly. Neteyam looked back at you, eyes wide. "What?" "In the tree," you said. "It wasn't words ,It was... feelings and I felt you drowning,I felt your guilt,It was so heavy, Neteyam. It was pulling me back down." You squeezed his hand. "That’s part of why I woke up,You were being so loud, big brother. You wouldn't let me sleep."
A tear slipped down Neteyam’s cheek. He let out a wet, shaky laugh. "So I annoyed you back to life?"
"Basically," you smiled, bumping your shoulder against his. "You and Mom,She was singing and It vibrated through the roots,It tickled."
The humor faded quickly, replaced by a heavy solemnity,Neteyam turned his hand over, interlacing his fingers with yours. He gripped tight, as if checking your pulse through your palm.
"I failed you," he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper "My one job was to protect the family. And I watched you take a bullet meant for me."
"Neteyam, stop," you said firmly, turning to face him, your golden eyes flared slightly, a visual echo of your emotions. "You didn't fail, You fought, we fought, That's what we do. I didn't jump in front of you because I wanted to be a hero,I did it because..." You paused, searching for the words. "Because a world without you isn't one I wanted to live in anyway."
Neteyam stared at you, his jaw working. "You can't do that again,You can't leave me here to explain to dad why his daughter is gone."
"I don't plan on it," you said,You looked back down at the glowing tree. "Eywa sent me back for a reason, Neteyam. I don't know what it is yet, Maybe it’s just to annoy you. Maybe it’s to fight the enemy,But I know one thing."
"What?"
"I’m not the same," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly for the first time,”I feel... old and I feel the water moving before the waves crash, I feel the Tulkun miles away,It’s a lot of noise inside my head now."
You looked at him, vulnerability cracking your calm mask. "I need you to help me stay grounded, ma Teyam. If I start drifting... you have to pull me back.
Neteyam shifted, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, resting his chin on the top of your head, right between your ears."I got you," he vowed, the vibration of his chest rumbling against you.
He held you there for a long time, listening to the water lapping against the rock.
"Your eyes are weird now, though," Neteyam mumbled into your hair, ruining the moment intentionally. "You look like a furious owl."
You elbowed him in the ribs, hard. He grunted but didn't let go. "And you look like a skxawng who needs a haircut," you shot back.
"Good," Neteyam exhaled, squeezing you tighter. "You're definitely still you."
"Yeah," you whispered, closing your eyes and leaning into his warmth, finally feeling the cold of the grave leave your bones. "I'm still me."
“I see you ,y/n”
“I see you ,brother”
જ⁀➴
Side note: soo i did what I couldn’t do with movies, i reunited Sully’s🥹
Twin idea came from my younger sisters, they are twins, and growing up with them taught me that there isn’t stronger bond than twin siblings have, they are basically inseparable, and I can’t imagine them being without each other.
And also excuse my poor writing. I searched up lot of words in dictionary 🥲
Summary: When your kuru is used against your parents, your scream triggers a primal rage in Jake Sully that neither the RDA nor the Ash People are prepared to face. And, during the healing, your mother's voice is the best medicine.
✨ based on this request ✨
The air on the deck was thick with a suffocating heat rising from the burning hull. You were on your knees, your hands bound behind your back.
Quaritch stood over you, his eyes tracking the churning water below. He knew Jake and Neytiri were down there. He knew they were waiting for the right moment.
"They are playing hide and seek," Quaritch growled, his voice rasp. He looked down at you—Jake’s firstborn, the pride of his eyes—and a cruel smirk twisted his face. Then, he looked at Varang, who stood with her hand already hovering near your head.
"Let's give them a reason to show up. Make sure the father hears it." He said, putting your comm beside your face.
Varang didn't hesitate. Her hand shot out, snatching your kuru with a brutal grip.
What you felt wasn't just physical pain. It was a lightning strike to your soul. Your neural queue was the center of your very being and Varang was squeezing it like she intended to snap the connection forever.
A painfull agony radiated from the back of your skull, lancing through every nerve in your body. Your back arched, your lungs seizing as the world turned into a blur of blinding light and static.
A sound broke from your throat: a raw, high-pitched scream of pure torment that echoed across the metal deck and pierced through the crashing waves below.
Nearby, Jake was swimming through the waves, his eyes scanning for a way to break in.
Then he heard it.
It was a direct bullet to his chest. The scream of his daughter—his baby girl. In an instant, the tactical soldier vanished. Something terrifying took its place. His pupils constricted and his grip on his weapon tightened until the material groaned.
He didn't just lock in. He became a storm.
Jake exploded from the water, trailing fury. He launched himself onto the deck.
Quaritch barely had time to raise his gun before Jake was on him. He used the butt of his weapon to smash Quaritch across the face with enough force to knock him out and send him skidding twenty feet across the burning metal.
Varang hissed, tightening her grip on your kuru in a desperate attempt to use you as a shield, but Jake was faster. He dropped his gun, drew his combat knife and in one fluid motion, he was at your side.
He grabbed Varang wrist with one hand, the bones in her arm audibly creaking. He stared directly into her eyes—a look of such cold promise that the she actually flinched.
"Let. Her. Go," he breathed.
It wasn't a request.
It was an execution sentence.
Under the sheer pressure of his grip, Varang’s hand recoiled. Jake immediately shoved her back and sliced her neck with his knife. He stepped over your trembling body, shielding you from the world with his entire frame.
The battle raged around you, but for Jake, the world had shrunk to the size and were only the two of you. He collapsed to his knees, freeing your hands and searching for injuries.
You were shivering violently, your eyes were unfocused and glazed. Your kuru was bruised, the neural filaments twitching from the trauma.
"I've got you, I've got you," Jake choked out, his voice cracking. His large hands, usually so steady, were shaking as he tried to hold your head still.
"Dad," you whispered, your voice a ghostly thread. You were delirious, the pain-overload making your mind wander to the forest, to home. "I can't... I can't feel anymore. It’s so quiet, Dad... wh-why can't I?"
"Shh, baby, It's okay," Jake's heart was breaking at the sight of his fierce warrior daughter reduced to this.
"H-Hurts... Mom's help... Need mom."
He looked at Neytiri, who was running toward you. "Neytiri! We have to move!"
You leaned into his chest, your hands feebly grasping at his tactical vest. "Make it stop... please... make it stop..."
"We're going to get you home," Jake vowed, his voice hardening again as he saw more RDA soldiers approaching. He scooped you up, holding you against his heart like you were still the tiny child he’d held in the Hometree years ago. "I'm going to kill every single one of them for touching you."
He stood up, carrying you through the smoke and fire. He felt like a father who was ready to burn the entire world down just to keep your heart beating.
During the fly back to the village, he had you tucked against his chest, his thick arms acting as a living cage to keep you from slipping. His eyes never leaving the back of your head.
Every time the skimwing crested a wave, the slight jar caused you to let out a broken whimper. You weren't feeling like a fierce warrior anymore; you felt like a child again, reduced to raw nerves, needing your parents to do something to erase the hurt.
"It hurts... Dad, it hurts so much," you sobbed, your voice barely audible. Your hands were curled into claws, clutching at his back, your fingernails digging into his skin.
Jake’s jaw was set so tight it ached. He had seen death. He had seen his sons bleed. But this was a different kind of horror. Seeing you, his little warrior, so utterly broken and terrified, was a blade to his heart.
"I know, baby. I know," he murmured, his voice thick and cracking. He pressed his cheek against the top of your head, trying to absorb your tremors into his own body. "Just breathe for me. Focus on dad, okay?"
"Make it stop..." you choked out, a fresh wave of delirium taking hold. "Please don't let them break me..."
Jake closed his eyes for a second, a single tear escaping. The guilt was a physical weight. He was the one they were after. You were just the leverage. "No one is going to touch you again. I promise you, on my life."
When you reached the reef, Jake scooped you up, your head lolling against his shoulder. You were still whispering, a low rhythmic chant of "it hurts"; like a loop that was the only things that kept you awake and dissociated you from the pain.
They brought you to the healing cove, the water warm and glowing. Neytiri stepped forward, her hands hovering over your bruised neural queue.
"The connection is unstable," Neytiri whispered sharply. "The trauma is deep. She's lost in the echo of pain."
Kiri stood by your head. She didn't speak; she didn't need to. Her connection to Eywa allowed her to feel the jagged, electric static screaming through your kuru. To Kiri, your pain felt like a disharmony in a song that was supposed to be perfect.
She reached out, her fingers glowing faintly as she brushed them against your temple. "She’s so loud," Kiri whispered, her voice trembling. "Her spirit... it’s screaming, Mom. It’s like a storm that won't stop."
You flinched under her touch, your eyes flying open, in horror. "No... don't touch it... it burns..." you wheezed, your body arching in the shallow water.
"My baby, It's okay, look at me." Neytiri took your face and searched for your watery eyes. "You have to let us heal you, okay? I promise it will be alright." Your chin trembled in anticipation but you nodded lightly, letting a few tears drop.
Neytiri looked at Jake, seeing the way his hands shook as he held your legs steady and her heart broke for both of you.
"Ma Jake," she murmured, a firm but grounding command. "Hold her shoulders. She must stay still for this."
Neytiri motioned you to close your eyes and placed a hand over your heart and the other near the base of your brain, where the bruising on your kuru was dark purple. She began to 'sing' the Healing Song, her voice low and guttural at first, vibrating through the water.
As the song rose in pitch, Kiri began to weave her hands through the water, calling the glowing microscopic life to gather around your neural queue. The light intensified in a soft pulse that attempted to knit the frayed filaments back together.
But your deep breaths could do nothing against the pain of the healing.
"It hurts, dada." you whispered unconsciously, unaware of the words that came out of your mouth. Calling him dada made Jake flinch as if he’d been shot. It's been years since you have called him that way.
Jake swallowed hard and lunged forward, pinning your shoulders down with a desperate tenderness. "I'm right here, baby. Dad is here, always here."
His eyes were wet, a sight that none in your family had seen in a long time. He was the commander, Olo’eykte, Toruk Makto. But right now, he was just a father watching his child drown in a sea of pain he couldn't fight for her.
"We are trying!" Kiri cried, tears streaming down her own face. "Mother is trying to reach her, but she’s too scared. She’s hiding."
Neytiri leaned down, pressing her forehead against yours, her Song turning into a fierce, rhythmic chant. She grabbed your hand and pressed it firmly against her chest.
"Please come back to us, my baby." Neytiri commanded you, her voice cutting through your delirium. "You are my daughter, daughter of the Forest. You are my warrior. Do not let them take your spirit."
Under the pressure of her voice, your thrashing began to slow. The white-hot static in your mind started to fade into a dull ache and a kind of tickle, a sign of healing.
"We see you," Jake choked out, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles over and over. He leaned to whisper directly into your ear so only you could hear. "I will tear the world apart before I lost you, baby. You’re our home. Our brave, brave girl."
"Dad...?" you whispered after a few minutes. Your eyes opened, finally focusing on his and then on Neytiri's. "Mom? M-my head.. tickles.."
"Oh, my sun," Neytiri let out a half-sob, half-laugh, kissing your face with a ferocity that spoke of a thousand unspoken feelings. The tickle meaning your kuru was healing. "The fire is out, my girl. You're safe. You came back to us."
"Your mom and Kiri... they brought you back, baby girl. And we are not losing you again."
And they stood to Jake's words.
They didn't let go of you. Even as your eyes drifted shut from the exhaustion of the healing, they remained there, anchored to you, like silent guardians who would never truly sleep again until they knew terror and pain had left your soul.
hi, i was wondering if you could write a toddler!reader avatar, where she’s a big mommas girl and she like loves neytiri and she realizes neytiri doesn’t like spider so she decides she doesn’t like spider either until he helps her with something and she starts to like him. idk if that made sense 😭 if it didn’t feel free to ignore this
You are definitely Neytiri‘s daughter, there’s no mistaking it in the way you cling to her whenever you can, your tail curling around her leg when you toddle beside her.
You love your mama fiercely and grumble when someone gets to close while you’re cuddling, mumbling an adorable 'my mama' as Neytiri chuckles at your possessiveness, especially when it’s directed at Jake.
"What do you mean no touch? She was my wife before she was your mama." Jake retorts after having just received a small hiss from you when he tried to touch Neytiri.
"No, my mama. Daddy no touch." You poke your tongue out at him as your mother chuckles and keeps working on your hair.
"You heard your daughter." Neytiri smiles, seeing Jake’s dumbfounded expression.
You mimic Neytiri in many different ways, loving the things she does, repeating things she says, even disliking the same things she does because what upsets your mama, upsets you in return.
That’s the reason you also don’t like Spider, it’s not that he ever did something to you for you to not like him, but Neytiri just can’t get herself to accept him. He’ll always be a sky-person to her, hence your dislike towards him.
No matter how nice he is, you’ll always glare at him the same way your mother does, watching him closely whenever he’s around your siblings.
Jake crouches down beside you and snaps his fingers in front of your face, pulling your fixated gaze away from Spider, who’s fooling around with your brothers and sisters. "Don’t you want to join them, babygirl?"
You hesitate for a moment and when you see Spider again you shake your head, making grabby hands for Neytiri when she approaches you both. "Mama."
She instantly lifts you into her arms, running her finger along your nose, making you giggle as Jake straightens himself.
"She’s too much like you for her own good." He smirks, receiving a halfhearted glare from her in response before she simply turns and walks off while whispering to you softly.
One day, you reluctantly let Neteyam and the rest of your siblings drag you with them towards a pond where your older brother often fishes and to your dismay Spider is there as well but you try to ignore him, keeping close to Neteyam as you clutch your favorite wooden toy in your hand.
After you spend some quality time with them, you now watch them splash in the water from your spot on a large rock, babbling to your wooden Ikran.
Since the rock is slightly slippery from the water, you couldn’t keep your grip on it anymore at some point, slipping into the water before even a sound can escape you.
You haven’t learned to swim yet and are now flailing in the water, your siblings seeming not to notice what’s happening as they are too busy shouting and splashing each other.
As you start to choke on the water, you feel two hands pull you back over the surface by your armpits, starting to cough as your lungs try to get free from any water that bothers you.
"Whoa, Y/N. Are you okay? Here." You recognize Spider's voice, feeling him pat your back to help you breathe again.
Your siblings now have gathered around you, Kiri wiping the water from your eyes as you start to calm down again, your body shaking from shock.
You then focus your gaze on Spider, realizing he was the one to save you from nearly drowning, suddenly wrapping your short arms around his neck to cling onto him, surprising not only him but your siblings as well.
Neteyam and Lo'ak share a confused look while Kiri and Tuk smile at your interaction with Spider, all of them knowing that a few hours ago you would have hissed at for even being near you.
Spider continues to pat your back awkwardly, still shocked that you’re actually holding onto him. "It’s- it’s okay."
Ever since that day, you start to grow a liking to him over time, feeling grateful yet are still wary of him sometimes and even Neytiri seems to dislike him a bit less, but just a tiny bit.
You’re still a mamas girl through and through but now show a twinge of your father’s personality as you slowly begin to accept Spider.
prompt: the sully family’s middle daughter, long overlooked, fights alone through pain. After nearly losing her, they finally see her and love her fully.
pairings: sully family x reader, jake sully x daughter!reader, neytiri x daughter!reader, sully kids x sister!reader, middle child!reader
warnings: angst, bloody wounds, family angst, hurt/comfort, whump, themes of war.
notes: this was requested by @ray-of-faith11
All your life has been a sequence of standing in the place between. Between brothers and sisters, between peace and war, between a forest that loves you and a family that never quite feels like it was meant for you.
The disconnection began when you and your brothers started to grow up. Jake had begun to shut you out of everything.
Your mother, never really there for you, always focused on your siblings. The only person whose connection to you had not severed was Tuk, and still, you knew that the day would come—because it always did.
It happened with Lo’ak, it happened with Neteyam, it happened with Kiri, and it happened with your parents.
You sit silently slouched over some weapon crafting material, hands skimming the string, testing it. Your father sits just a few feet away, helping your brothers and Kiri craft their own bows. “Dad, can you help me?” you murmur, “i cannot attach the string to the—”
“Y/n— can’t you wait? I’m helping Kiri.”
“Okay,” you say evenly, nodding even though he is not looking. “And when you are done?”
“Sure.” He says, voice rough, lips tight.
One minute passes, then two, he seems to forget that you’d even called out for him in the first place. So you figure it out yourself.
Even Tuk’s glance, soft and slightly knowing, can’t erase the hollow ache curling in your chest. You bury it under the weight of your work, under the sound of strings snapping into place and wood being sanded smooth.
Tuk comes from behind you, hands already on your shoulders, peeking over them to see your work. “Y/n…can I tryyy?”
“Not now, Tuk. I am not finished.”
“Are you having trouble?”
“No.” You say, quicker than you should have. Tuk’s frown is instant, tiny hands loosening around your shoulders.
You set the materials aside and take her little hands in yours. “I am busy.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
Your mother crosses into the large space of your home, eyes skimming briefly over you before focusing on other things.
When her eyes land on Tuk, they narrow slightly. “What did you do?” She asks you immediately, your shoulders tense as everybody looks up from their laps, all eyes falling over you.
“Nothing, I am just crafting the bow—she would not leave me alone.”
“She should not have to. Do not treat her as if she is a burden. Let her try.” Your mother says.
You can only sigh, handing Tuk the crafting materials sharply. “There,” you murmur.
Your mother gathers whatever it is she needed and remains outside, close enough to hear everything being said inside. you take the components of your unfinished bow back immediately and continue to work.
Only, Tuk does not complain this time, she just watches your hands as they skim wood and sometimes tug at the strings too hard.
“You are doing it wrong.” She teases.
“I am not,” despite everything, you smile.
“Seriously, Neteyam showed me-“
“I said I am not!” You snap, your voice cutting louder.
Instantly, your fathers voice echoes across the space. “Hey!” The single word cracks through the air like a whip.
You freeze, Jake is already on his feet, anger flaring quick and hot. “Don’t you talk to her like that.”
Everybody freezes. Tuk flinches slightly beside you. Your chest tightens, legs pulling in at your side. “I told her that I was busy.”
“She’s a kid!” He snaps, stepping closer. “Your sister. You don’t yell at her because you’re frustrated.”
“I did not- I am not frustrated.”
“But you did, and yes you are angry!” he yells, voice rising. “And you’re taking it out on your siblings.”
Something inside of you twists like a vault, sharp and sudden. “I just wanted to finish something without being interrupted,” you murmur, hands shaking slightly as you try to focus.
Before he can respond, a new voice cuts through. “What is happening here?” Your mother stands at the entryway, and before you can say anything, your father steps up.
“She snapped at Tuk.”
“No-” you sigh, “she kept getting in the way of things. I was just trying to finish my bow!”
“So you raise your voice at her?” Your mother asks.
“Yes.”
“She just wants to learn, is that a crime?” Your father chimes in.
“I am learning too!” You snap. “I just want to finish my work!” You stand now, breathing heavily.
“Y/n, apologize. Now.” Your mother crosses her arms, waiting.
You shake your head and crouch to gather your things, brushing past your parents carelessly and moving toward the doorway.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jake asks, but you ignore him., continuing to move.
You find yourself sitting stiff on a smooth rock, fingers still pulling at the stupid string that got you here in the first place.
The noise inside the marui fades slowly, piece by piece, until it is replaced by the low hum of night insects and the distant rush of water.
Jake steps outside, arms crossed, jaw tight. Staring out into the darkness as if it might offer him some answers.
Of course it doesn’t. He exhales through his nose, long and controlled, but the tension doesn’t leave his shoulders.
“Daddy?” The voice is small.
He turns, already softening. “Hey baby girl.”
Tuk steps closer, hands clasped behind her back the way she does when she’s thinking too hard about something.
“What’s up?” He asks, crouching a little so that he’s closer to her height.
She doesn’t answer right away, just looks at him—studying. Then, she speaks, “do you love Y/n?”
The question lands wrong, too direct, and too easy. Jake blinks, caught off guard. “What kind of question is that?”
Tuk shrugs, it is not her usual, playful shrug—this one is careful. “You always say you love us, all of us.” She says quietly.
“I do.” He answers immediately. “Of course I do.”
“But…” she hesitates, eyes dropping for a moment before lifting again. “you don’t talk to her the same, that’s it.”
That hits harder than anything that was said inside. Your father’s expression tightens. “Tuk-“
“You sometimes get bad at her faster,” she continues, words a little quicker now, like she’s afraid she won’t get them out otherwise. “You always listen to Kiri, sometimes Lo’ak, and Neteyam.”
He flinches, barely.
“But you don’t really listen to her.” She finishes with a sharp exhale, as if she’d been holding those very words for decades.
A long pause stretches—then, finally, “I am trying to keep this family together.” Jake says, voice lower.
“Everyone is under pressure, baby…I can’t-“
“Maybe Y/n is as well.” Tuk interrupts, almost a whisper. “You just don’t look.”
That stops him completely, here he is, learning about his middle child from his youngest, learning things he should have already known.
“She tries really hard, I can see it. Nobody else does.”
Jake looks away then, out into the trees again. Trying to avoid what’s sitting in front of him. “I know,” he says after a moment, but it does not sound as certain as it should.
Tuk steps closer, tiny hand reaching for his, he lets her take it. “Maybe you should tell her, daddy.” she says.
He glances down at her. “Tell her what?”
“That you love her.”
Tuk says it so simply, like it should be easy. Jake’s throat tightens slightly, his grip on her little hand shifting.
“I think she forgot.” Tuk adds.
That one lands deep, for a second, he doesn’t speak at all. The sounds of the forest fill the space between them, thick and alive, but it does nothing to ease the quiet weight settling in his chest. “..yeah,” he murmurs. “I’ll talk to her.”
Tuk nods, satisfied in that small way of hers. “Okay.”
She squeezes his hand once before letting go and walking back inside.
Your father stays where he is, still staring into the dark.
You remain silently seated on the same forest rock, fingers curled in the moss, legs dangling—your bow is finished beside you.
Nobody has come looking for you, and that’s all you can think about. Not the bow you finally built, just the fact that your own family forgets you like a story with a torn page.
You are always the one to watch as they share the love you were once a part of. The realization creeps in, you lean forward, your elbows resting on your knee caps, palms squeezing against your eyes.
You gasp sharply, then your cries escape like a weight you didn’t even know you had to bear, now it’s melting into soil. Your hands move away, letting the tears escape—your face is washed in secrets kept too deep, a baptism of everything you cannot say.
Your mind drifts once again, you, as a young girl- held in the arms of your parents, or you, curled up with your siblings, or- “whatever,” you murmur.
You hop off of the large stone, taking your bow, moving quietly through the forest. You test the bow by drawing it as far as possible and piercing right through a woven target—a forgotten one.
You spend the long night hours walking about the forest, drowning yourself with work, it’s not even close to dawn, and you’re still tired. Eventually, you go back to the village on your own, your kelku is quieter than usual when you step inside, not empty, just wrong.
It is the kind of quiet that feels like everyone is aware of something, but no one knows how to touch it. For a brief second, a few heads lift, then they go back down too fast.
You don’t say anything, you just move to your space, set down your bow carefully, and pick up whatever work is closest. Something unfinished, something that gives your hands a purpose so your mind doesn’t have to.
No one stops you, not your mother, or your father, not even Tuk. But your siblings notice the way your tail is unmoving. None of them bother to speak.
The silence stretches, it follows all of you into the night. Sleeping doesn’t come easy, despite your obvious fatigue.
The space feels too tight and too empty at the same time. between breathing, shifting, the faint sound of your family settling in—but none of it reaches you.
So you get up quietly.
By the time morning comes, you’ve already been working. Your hands move without thinking, sharpening, tying, adjusting. Anything that keeps you from stopping.
Anything that keeps you from feeling.
“You’re up early.” Jakes voice.
You don’t look up. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Your father watches you for a moment longer than usual this time, like he’s trying to figure something out—but he says the wrong things.
“You can’t keep doing that.”
He almost reaches for you, almost softens—but that quickly turns into authority all over again.
Your hands still slightly. “Doing what?”
“This,” he gestures vaguely, frustration already creeping in. “Running off every time something doesn’t go your way.”
“I didn’t run.” you cut in sharply, the words quicker than you intend. “I just left.”
Lo’ak, leaning against the doorway, snorts. “Left, ran, whatever. You’re too old to keep acting like this. Everyone else has real things to worry about.”
Your hands freeze on the bow. “Real things?” Your voice is louder now, shaking slightly. “Is it a real problem that I exist here, and you all ignore me?”
Lo’ak shrugs, too casual, almost bored. “Maybe if you weren’t so sensitive-“
“Sensitive?!” You snap, standing up, heat curling in your chest. “I am not sensitive! I am tired! Tired of being invincible to you all. Tired of being treated like I’m nothing until I explode!”
Jake steps closer, tension rolling off of him. “Y/n. I am trying-“
“No!” You yell, spinning to face him. “You’re trying for everyone else! You listen to Kiri, you listen to Neteyam, but not me!”
Kiri, standing at the doorway beside Lo’ak watches closely, eyes rolling. “Well maybe if you weren’t always running away or sulking, people would notice you more.” She says.
The words hit like a whip. Your chest tightens, everything twists inside. “I am done” you murmur, voice low but trembling. “Done trying to matter to people who don’t see me.”
Jake opens his mouth, frustrated, angry, but no words land. You brush past him, Kiri and Lo’ak, ignoring the shocked looks, the unspoken guilt, the tension in the room.
Without another word, you move towards the doorway, shoulders rigid. You don’t even stop to grab anything, you just make your way out.
“Y/n-“ Jake calls after you.
But you don’t stop. The hut is suddenly emptier than it’s ever been.
You don’t notice the hours passing, moving through the forest in a quiet rage, letting the night swallow your footsteps. By the time night is a blue smear over the horizon, your limbs ache, your hands smell of wood and bowstring, but you feel somehow more yourself than you have in weeks.
Your family is seated, together in the hut, spending quality time with one another. Jake’s voice breaks the silence in a soft whisper. “Tuk told me something. Last night.”
Your mother stills, moving closer so that your siblings do not hear. “What?”
Jake hesitates, but not for long. “She thinks Y/n might have forgotten that we love her.”
Neytiri inhales sharply. For a moment, she cannot speak. Her jaw tightens, her ears lowering slightly, the weight of it settling in her chest all at once.
“She did not forget,” Neytiri says at first—quick, instinctive, but it doesn’t sound certain.
Jake looks at her then, really looks—and realizes she’s already further ahead than he is, already understanding what this means.
Your Mother sets the materials in her hands aside, more abruptly than she intends. “All this time..” she murmurs, almost to herself. “She stands there, and we let her.”
Neytiri shakes her head, already moving toward the entrance. “We will not let that be the truth she carries.”
There is urgency in your mom now, emotion pushing through control. “We can remind her now.”
Your father nods, solemn.
The forest still breathes when they leave. Not peacefully, but alive.
Not peacefully—but alive in that quiet, watchful way it gets after conflict. The air is thick, holding onto the last echoes of raised voices, of things said too sharply, too late.
Jake and Neytiri move quickly through the trees, their pace urgent, focused on you. Not the village, or the others.
“She went east,” Neytiri says, voice tight, already scanning the ground, the branches, the smallest disturbances.
Your mother stills, but her body does not fully obey her. Her hands tighten around nothing, fingers curling as if they are trying to hold onto something that is no longer there.
The sounds of the forest blur for a moment, fading beneath something older, something softer.
A memory, it comes uninvited. You are small again. Much smaller than the others ever seemed to be. Your limbs all softness and curiosity, your steps uneven as you try to follow her through the roots of the forest.
“Ma’ite,” Neytiri had called gently, glancing back at you. “Stay close.”
You had nodded quickly, too quickly, determined. Always determined.
A root caught your foot, you stumbled forward with a small cry, hands scraping against the ground. Not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to startle you.
Neytiri had turned at the sound, but not fully. Because Neteyam had called for her at the same time. “Mother, look!”
Something about his voice.. pride, excitement, it pulled her attention. Just for a moment Just long enough that when she looked back, you were already pushing yourself up.
You did not cry, or reach for her. You were just quiet.
Your little hands brushed the dirt off your palms, clumsy but practiced, like you had already learned that no one would always be there to do it for you.
Neytiri had stepped toward you then. “Are you hurt?”
You shook your head quickly. “No.”
She remembers that now, the way you did not look at her when you said it. The way your shoulders stayed slightly hunched, like you were holding something in.
But Neteyam had spoken again, tugging at her attention, and the moment passed as easily as breath.
She had let it pass.
The memory snaps away just as quickly as it came. Jake nods, jaw set. “She couldn’t have gotten far.”
But there’s something unsettled in his tone.Because deep down he knows you could.
They move faster, the forest parts around them, familiar, guiding—but something feels off. It all felt too quiet and too still.
then a high, distant sound. Your father freezes mid step. Your mother turns sharply toward the sky.
The scream of something tears through the air. “Move!” Jake tries to warn the villagers from where he is, but it is too late. The missile hits.
The explosion rips through the village behind them, a violent bloom of fire and sound that shakes the ground beneath their feet. Light flashes through the trees, unnatural and blinding.
Creatures flee and everything alive reacts. “No!” Neytiri’s voice breaks into something raw, already turning back. Jake doesn’t hesitate this time. “Go!”
They run.
Back at the village, it’s chaos. Flames devour the edges of huts. Smoke coils thick into the sky. The sound of sky peopl weapons cuts through everything—sharp, mechanical, wrong.
People scatter, some fighting, some trying to pull others to safety. And then you arrive at the edge like a shadow.
Silent. still and watching. Your chest rises and falls once, then you lift your bow. Everything else disappears, you move along the outer edges, slipping between trees, using darkness and smoke like armor.
Your arrows fly, clean and precise. A Sky Person drops before they even understand what hit them.
You don’t stop, you shoot many more. Your movements are sharp, controlled—every shot intentional.
There is no hesitation here, no second guessing, no waiting for someone to notice you. This is where you exist.
Inside the chaos, Jake is commanding, pulling people back, redirecting fighters. “Fall back! Move the children now!”
Your mom is already ahead of him—faster, deadlier. Every arrow she fires finds its mark, but neither of them sees you.
You’re too far out like always. A sky person turns, weapon lifting. You draw faster, but the release is too slow. The crack splits the air, you don’t even register the sound properly.
Just the impact, it hits your side hard enough to spin you. Your breath vanishes instantly as you’re thrown off balance, crashing into the ground. The world tilts, blurs.. your bow slipping from your grip before you can snatch it back.
For a second, you feel nothing. No pain, just ringing silence. Then, it comes. Your body folds slightly, a sharp, broken inhale tearing through your chest as something hot and deep ignites in your side.
Your hand moves instinctively, it presses—just enough pressure, but it is wet. You look down, your hand is dark, shaking.
Your jaw clenches tight, you force yourself up, every movement slower now, tighter. You pick up your bow again, and you keep fighting.
You don’t let yourself stop, you don’t even let yourself think. You move through the pain, through the heat, through the way your body is starting to feel heavier than it should.
You hit another demon, another target. Another breath you almost lose. By the time the sky people retreat, you’re barely steady.
But you’re still standing, so it doesn’t matter. You leave before anyone can see.
The village slowly regathers itself. Smoke drifts through what remains. The fires are being put out. Voices are lower now.. shaken, exhausted.
Jake moves quickly, checking everyone. “Tuk?”
“I’m here!” She says, running into his arms. He pulls her in, relief flashing across his face.
Lo’ak, Kiri, Neteyam. He checks them, one by one—everyone is safe and alive. “Where’s Y/n? did anybody see her?" he asks suddenly.
There’s a pause, a long one. Your siblings exchange hesitant looks. Neytiri’s head lifts slightly, eyes closing. “She is not here.” She sighs.
Jake’s chest tightens. “Damn it-” They don’t wait this time, they move to leave again—to find you.
Another distant rumble sounds, not as close.. but enough to make them pause.
Your father looks back. The village is still vulnerable, still recovering. There are injured villagers, children crying.
Not safe, your mother sees it too, Jake’s pull back, his silent choice to stay. He exhales sharply, jaw tightening.
“We secure the village first,” he says, voice firm but strained. Your mother doesn’t argue.. and they turn away.
You come back alone, the village is different now, of course it is, it is quiet, and cold. Your steps are slower, but still steady, your hand never leaves your side, pressed tight and holding everything in.
You move toward your hut, walking in on just your family. You hold yourself together, not crying, whimpering, not even a limp. You just walk to your space and set your things down.
Night falls so fast. The sounds of the village dims into something mute and distant. Soft footsteps, the crackle of what little fire remains.
Inside the hut, your family settles again. Slow and careful, as if everyone is pretending things are normal.
You sit in your hammock, unmoving. Your hand is still pressed to your side and it hasn’t left. At some point, the others lie down. One by one, the shift of bodies, the quiet murmurs, the slow rhythm of sleep beginning to take hold.
No one looks at you long enough to notice that you sit holding yourself together with just your palm. Besides, they are all sleeping.
You lay down gently on your side, knees drawn in slightly. the ache in your side grows sharper and hotter, gnawing at you until it’s unbearable. Try to ignore it at first, thinking you can will it away, thinking no one needs to see you like this.
But it only spreads, twisting deeper, coiling into panic. A strangled gasp escapes, sharp and sudden. You bite your lip, trying to keep it back, but the pain wins. “Dad…!” The cry is desperate, high, cracking in your throat.
It cuts through the quiet of the night, and it shakes your small body. You press your hand harder, sobs breaking through as your body trembles uncontrollably. “Dad, please…”
“Daddy I didn’t mean to- earlier. Dad, I didn’t!” You cry, wondering if he’s hearing you, if he’s awake. “Dad?”
“Yeah?” His voice is thick with sleep, but awake.
Your sobs tear free uncontrollably, raw and unfiltered.
“Y/n..” he murmurs, the sound of him moving fast reaches your ears, the thud of his feet against the woven floor, the rustle of his body as he reaches for you.
Your eyes flutter for one second and he takes your wrist immediately, uncovering the wound. “Oh my- why did you hide this, baby?!”
“I don’t- I’m sorry! I- I thought you’d be angry!”
He frowns deeply, the sounds of your cries rouse your siblings and mother awake, they hesitate for a moment.
“What’s going on” Lo’ak says groggily.
“Who is crying?” Kiri says.
Neteyam is the first to join Jake’s side, hands reaching for your face. “Stay with us.” He says firmly.
You cry, squeezing your father’s arm. Your mother rushes over, brushing carefully past Neteyam and gripping your shoulders, forehead against yours.
Your body is still shaking, breaths breaking apart as pain pulses through your side.
But the pain doesn’t just sit in your side—it pulses through everything, sharp and consuming, stealing the air from your lungs in broken pieces. Your fingers clutch at your father’s arm like it’s the only solid thing left in the world.
“stay with me,” Jake says, but his voice is different now, not sharp, not impatient. It’s unsteady.
He is afraid.
His hands hover for a second like he doesn’t know where to touch without hurting you more—then one settles against your cheek, grounding, warm. “Look at me. Y/n.”
You try but your vision blurs, tears mixing with the haze, but you force your eyes open just enough to find him. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to make you mad.” Your voice fractures under the weight of it.
that’s what breaks his heart. “no, hey,” he shakes his head quickly, pulling you closer without thinking, like he’s trying to hold you together himself. “You’re not- I’m not mad. I’m not mad at you.” His voice drops, rough, thick. “Never.”
Your breath stutters again, body curling tighter despite the pain.
Beside him, Neytiri is already moving, fast, precise, hands firm but gentle as she inspects the wound. The moment her fingers press near it, her expression changes.
Fear. “She’s losing too much blood,” Neytiri says sharply, but her voice trembles at the edges. “Why did you not come back sooner? Why did you not tell us?”
You don’t answer because you honestly can’t. Because the answer is sitting right there between all of you, unspoken but louder than anything.
Because you didn’t think anyone would notice.
Neteyam’s hands stay steady on your face, his forehead pressing briefly against yours. He speaks low, urgent, “You’re okay. You hear me? You’re staying.”
Lo’ak is frozen a few feet away, guilt hitting too late, too hard. He doesn’t speak at first—just stares at the blood on your side like he doesn’t understand how it got there.
Kiri’s arms wrap around herself, her earlier words hanging between you two like something rotten. She looks at you now and her voice comes out smaller than ever before. “Y/n,”
From the other side, tiny hands grab onto your arm. “Y/n…” Tuktirey whispers, already crying again. “You’re gonna be okay, okay?”
Your grip tightens weakly around your father’s hand. “Dad…” you whisper again, softer now, like you’re slipping somewhere he can’t follow. “ I tried to be good. To fight back.”
His entire expression crumples. Something inside Jake gives way completely. “Hey- no, no, no,” he breathes, shaking his head. “You don’t have to try to earn that. You hear me? You never should have.”
His voice cracks fully, openly now. “I love you.”
The words come out like they’ve been trapped for too long. “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it. I’m sorry I didn’t show it-“ his grip tightens, almost desperate, like if he lets go you’ll disappear, “but you don’t get to leave thinking you had to fight for a place in this family. You already have one. You always have.”
Your breath hitches. For just a second the pain dulls under something else, something warmer.
Neytiri moves, pressing cloth firmly to your wound, her hands steady even as her voice softens when she leans close to you. “Stay with us, ma’ite. stay.”
“Sa’nu..” you sigh, eyes softening just briefly. Your body trembles again, but this time your hand doesn’t just clutch your side. it shifts, weakly, until it presses against your father’s.
Around you, everything is different now. The silence that once ignored you is gone. replaced by voices, by hands, by urgency, and by a fear of losing you.
By love that came too late. but not too late.
You wake up wrapped in comfy sheets and the same clothes you were shot in. Herbal smoke drifts in the air like the song of a new day, the sun casting gold streaks across the hut.
Your entire family is asleep around you, you stir faintly, reaching for the bowl of water, but it drops from your weak hands.
You wince slightly as your siblings and parents stir, your father is alarmed and stands too quickly, “Y/n.. baby, you okay?”
“Yes. I need water.”
He stands, scooping up the bowl and filling it with water. He puts the bowl to your lips and tilts it slightly, filling your mouth with water.
When you’re done drinking, you look down and notice the bandaging at your middle. “How long have I been sleeping?”
“Three days.”
“Three? I should be okay to walk.” You try to stand, but Jake physically holds you back, guiding you down gently.
“Not yet. We’ll work on that together, okay?”
“Why? I mean, three days..”
“Yeah, three days of sleep.”
Your siblings and your mother are already awake behind your father.
Your mother is already closer than she’s ever been without you calling for her. Her eyes aren’t scanning the room, not checking on anyone else—they’re on you entirely. There’s something unsettled in them still, something guilty, but something else too.
She’s not looking away this time.
Tuk is the closest to you already, fingers brushing your arm softly. “I told you that you would be okay.” She smiles.
“I didn’t think it was that bad,” you say.
Your mother steps closer now, slow, like approaching something fragile. Her hand lifts, hesitates for the briefest second—then rests against your hair, smoothing it back from your face.
The gesture is so soft it almost hurts more than the wound. “You do not decide that alone anymore,” she says quietly.
No sharpness or correction. Just the truth.
Behind her, Lo’ak finally speaks, voice rougher than usual. “That was.. stupid,” he mutters.
Neteyam shoots him a look.
“What?” Lo’ak adds quickly, but it’s weaker now. “Not- not like that. I just mean-” he exhales, frustrated with himself, then finally looks at you. “You should’ve said something.”
Kiri shifts beside him, arms uncrossing slowly. “We didn’t make it easy,” she admits, quieter than you’ve ever heard her.
That one settles deeper and no one rushes to fill the silence after that.
Your father’s hand squeezes your shoulder slightly. “We’re gonna do better,” he says.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
Tuk leans into you more, her head pressing gently against your arm. “You didn’t forget, right?” she murmurs.
You blink. “Forget what?”
She tilts her head up at you, eyes wide but certain. “That we love you.”
The question hangs there—but it doesn’t feel as heavy as it did before. Because now you have something to measure it against.
You glance around the room again. At your father, who hasn’t let go. At your mother, who hasn’t looked away. At your siblings, who are still here—with you, not around you.
Your fingers tighten slightly around Tuk’s hand. ““No,” you say, voice quiet, but steady.
Their love has never been forgotten, just hard to see. Your father exhales, something in him easing at that. He leans forward just slightly, pressing his lips briefly against your forehead—careful of the bandages, careful of you.
“We’ll make sure you don’t have to wonder again,” he murmurs.
And this time, it doesn’t feel like something you have to earn.
Weeks of healing and your families tentative care pass, your father helps you walk, your siblings bring you refreshments without you having to ask, and your mother stays by your side.
She sings to you your songcord at night, she rebraids your hair when she notices that they need fixing, she steadies you when your nightmares become too much to handle, and for once—she isn’t choosing someone else entirely over you.
You are theirs, and they continue to make sure that you see it and feel it. You are no longer standing in between, you are finally, undeniably held.
Neytiri had noticed the changes in her son over the past weeks.
Neteyam had always been reliable during hunts, steady at her side. Lately though, he slipped away more often, returning later than usual with his braids slightly out of place and a distant look in his eyes.
Today he was meant to help her prepare the evening meal, yet he had not appeared. Worry nudged at her, quiet but persistent, so she set out along the familiar trails, calling his name softly at first.
The sounds reached her before the sight did — soft, intimate noises from the grove. Neytiri pushed through the leaves and stopped short.
Neteyam’s face was buried between your thighs, his hands holding you open as he worked with focused devotion. Your back arched slightly, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other tangled in the moss.
The moan broke from your lips as his tongue dragged hot and flat through your soaked folds.
Neteyam had you laid out on the soft moss in the hidden grove, thighs spread wide around his head while he devoured your pussy with slow, hungry licks.
His strong hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as his mouth worked you open, tongue sliding deep inside your dripping cunt before pulling back to swirl around your swollen clit.
He groaned against you, the low sound vibrating straight through your core. “Taste so good,” he murmured, barely lifting his mouth before diving back in, licking messy and greedy, lips sucking softly on your clit until your hips jerked against his face.
His braids fell forward, brushing your thighs as he buried himself deeper, tongue fucking into you in steady strokes, drinking down every drop of your arousal with wet, obscene sounds.
Neytiri’s voice cut through the air, sharp with disbelief. “What is this?”
Neytiri stood at the edge of the grove, eyes wide with shock that quickly turned to anger.
Neteyam froze above you, ears pinning flat. You scrambled to sit up, heart pounding as you quickly reached for your discarded loincloth with shaky hands.
The fabric felt tangled and awkward in your rush, cheeks burning hot as you tried to tie it back into place.
Neteyam moved fast to help, his fingers steady despite everything, gently adjusting the ties at your hips and smoothing the cloth down your thighs so it sat properly. His touch was quick and careful in the middle of the panic.
“Mother—” he started, voice low.
“Go home,” Neytiri told you firmly, her tone leaving little room for argument, though it carried an undercurrent of concern rather than pure fury. “Now.”
You gathered yourself and slipped away, cheeks warm, the moment shattering around you.
Before you passed Neytiri, you gave Neteyam a small pat on the back, soft and quick, meant to steady him before you disappeared down the path toward home.
Neytiri turned to Neteyam, reaching out to grab him firmly by the ear, the way she had when he was small and reckless.
“Does your father know about this?” she demanded, guiding him back toward the village with purposeful steps.
Neteyam winced slightly at the hold but answered evenly. “He does.”
When they got back, she decided that saying nothing to him was for the best
The next evening the air around the cooking fire felt thick with unspoken things. Fish sizzled over the flames while Neytiri tended it with careful movements.
You sat nearby, awkward under the weight of yesterday’s discovery, eyes flicking between the food and the ground.
Neteyam sat across from his mother, trying to focus on the meal, but his gaze kept drifting to you.
He broke the eye contact between you and his mother by looking down at the fire, then quietly tapped his thigh against yours under the cover of the low table. The small contact brought a faint smile to your lips despite everything.
Neytiri noticed. Her posture stiffened just a touch. “Do you two need room?” she asked, voice calm but edged.
Neteyam looked at her sweetly, the way he always did when trying to ease tension. “What is the problem, Mother?”
“It is nothing,” she replied, turning the fish with a little more force than necessary.
He watched her for a moment, then asked gently, “Is it because of what you saw yesterday?”
Neytiri paused, then shook her head. “No. You are both adults now.”
Neteyam studied her expression, his own softening. “Is it because you did not know?”
Despite not saying anything, she gave a small nod, ears lowering slightly.
He exhaled quietly, a hint of fondness in his voice. “Even Father did not know at first… he found out the same way.”
Neytiri’s eyes widened a fraction… “ are you guys doing this everyd—“
Jake, who had been listening from nearby, rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “Yeah… let’s just say I’ve seen some things.”
then a reluctant laugh escaped her, short and surprised. The sound broke some of the awkwardness, easing the tightness around the fire. You felt your own shoulders relax, a quiet smile forming as the tension started to lift.
Neytiri couldn’t keep you guys apart from each other.
It got worse than before as the sneaking continued.
One afternoon, while your mother was out gathering herbs, you stayed behind to prepare fresh fish for the evening meal. soft light filtering through the woven walls of your home as you worked at the low table, knife moving steadily over the scales.
Neteyam slipped inside without a sound, his presence warm behind you before you even heard his footsteps. He stepped close, arms sliding around your waist, and pressed a slow kiss to the side of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a small shiver down your spine.
“I like this look on you,” he murmured, voice low and fond, lips brushing your ear. “My mate, preparing food for her family… it suits you.”
You laughed softly, leaning back into him for a moment, the knife pausing in your hand. “Not too long, My mother will be back any minute so she will take all the attention”
But the laugh turned into something quieter when his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer.
One thing led to another — his mouth on your neck again, your head tilting to give him more room, the fish forgotten on the table. Before you knew it, he had you on your back on the woven mats, your legs bent and folded behind your head as he sank deep inside you with one smooth thrust.
his cock filling you completely. Neteyam groaned low against your mouth, hips rolling in deep strokes that made your breath catch. “I’m almost there,” he whispered, voice rough and close, forehead pressed to yours. “Keep quiet, yawne.”
You tried — you really did — but soft moans slipped out anyway, your walls clenching around him with every thrust. “My mom is gonna be here soon,” you gasped between moans, the words broken and breathy as pleasure built fast and hot. “Neteyam—ah—she’ll be back any moment—”
He didn’t slow down, just fucked you deeper, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting filling the small home. His rut was starting to edge in, making his movements a little more urgent, his scent heavier, the base of his cock swelling slightly with each push. “Just a little longer,” he breathed against your lips, eyes half-lidded and dark. “You feel too good.”
The door flap rustled.
Your mother stepped in, basket of seasonings in hand, and dropped it with a sharp clatter. Spices and dried herbs scattered across the floor. “What is going on here!” she cried, voice rising in shock and anger. Her eyes widened at the sight — you on your back with your legs folded high, Neteyam still buried deep inside you, both of you frozen mid motion.
Neteyam pulled out quickly, shielding you as best he could while you scrambled to cover yourself, cheeks burning. Your mother’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and fury.
“How dare you do this in my home?” she snapped, stepping forward. “Neteyam, you are the future Olo’eyktan — is this how you show respect? And you—” she turned to you, voice trembling with worry, “—I raised you better than to let this happen when I could walk in at any moment.”
The argument lasted longer than you expected. Your mother paced, gesturing sharply. “Pregnancy is not a game. Your heats are approaching, and his rut is already starting — I can smell it on him. One slip and you will be carrying a child before either of you are ready. I do not want my daughter with child yet. The clan is still recovering. You both have responsibilities, training, duties. This rushing will only bring trouble.”
Neteyam listened quietly, ears low, offering soft apologies when she paused for breath. You sat beside him, mortified but unable to deny the warmth that still lingered between you.
Finally, as the tension eased just a fraction, your mother pointed toward the door. “Neteyam, Out. Both of you need to think about what you are risking.”
On his way out, she stopped Neteyam with a firm look. “It is not respectful to do such activities in my home, Neteyam. Not while I am expected back any moment.”
Neteyam bowed his head slightly, sincere. “I am sorry. It won’t happen again here.” He glanced back at you with a small, secret smile — warm and full of that quiet pining — before slipping out the door and running off toward the village paths.
Your mother watched him go, then turned to you with a long sigh, the anger softening into tired concern. The fish still waited on the table, half prepared, while the scattered seasonings lay forgotten on the floor.
Lowk, I had to do a bit of research on ruts and stuff and it was pretty interesting, I’ve never written anything about this so I’m sorry … please tell me more about ruts and stuff, I would love to write something similar
