Jakes younger sister, who was sent to Graces school to learn alongside the other clan children, had been the youngest of the avatar drivers However, after the horrific attack, the girl ran away scared of what the RDA was capable of. since she was still considered a child, the clan took her in. To Jake's horror, he was told that his sister had passed away but he eventually learned that she was alive and living a life within the clan as Tsu'tey's mate ? Please 🙏
An: sorry for missing 3 updates was busy working on this one just wasn’t happy with it
Tsu'tey x Reader (Jake’s Sister)
You arrived on Pandora like a ghost, too quiet for your age, too burdened for someone barely thirteen.
The brass back at the RDA had only allowed it because they preyed on the weak. You had lost your parents. Your brothers, both almost 18, had options. Jake was heading into the military, and Tommy had been offered a full ride to university paid by the RDA as long as he worked for them. But you were looking at foster care, and there was no way your brothers were going to let you be placed in the system where it wasn't uncommon for teens to “runaway.” so they offered tommy a deal let them use you as sorts of test dummy to see how a younger body would do as an avatar driver and they’d bring you to pandora ahead and you could stay with him there. And you? You were sent ahead. Alone.
Grace Augustine was never sentimental. You had expected a team. A guide. Maybe someone to hold your hand on this new alien moon. But there was no comfort. No mission briefing.
Just a borrowed body and a voice in your ear saying, “Don’t screw this up.”
Your avatar's body was smaller than most. Younger, even in Na’vi form. Shorter than Neytiri, slimmer than the others your age in training. Your limbs moved like a fawn’s first steps. The tail? A nightmare. You tripped over it for days.
Grace’s goal was simple. “We’ll start with school integration. A soft presence. A child among children.”
In theory, it made sense. In practice, it meant you spent hours mimicking the language of curious Na’vi children while older hunters stared at you with suspicion. A dreamwalker with baby skin, fumbling limbs and soft-spoken apologies.
Neytiri found you first, deep in the jungle, chasing an atokirina like it held the answers to your place in the world.
It floated just out of reach, and you stumbled after it, wide-eyed.
She emerged from the shadows like a spirit.
“What you doing here, dreamwalker?”
You froze, hands halfway to the glowing seed. “II was following it.”
Her golden eyes scanned you, curious but wary.
“This forest is not your toy.”
“I know,” you whispered. “But… Pandora is beautiful.”
Something shifted in her face thensomething fragile and flickering. A thread pulled taut, waiting to break.
And then she laughedjust once.
From that day on, Neytiri stayed close. She taught you how to walk with your toes first, how to listen with your whole body. You were a student of the forest, but also a student of her.
And through Neytiri, you met Sylwanin and Tsu'tey .
Bright as flame, Sylwanin was wild and full of laughter. She pulled you into the clan like a whirlwindteaching you to ride pa’li, to climb the Hometree like it was your birthright.
You had admired him from afar-strong, serious, noble.
He was promised to Sylwanin, and you respected that. Still, he'd sometimes join you in hunts or offer dry commentary when you fumbled in training. A small, hesitant friendship formed.
In just under a year, you were fluent in the language, adept with a bow, and well on your way to being accepted by the People.
Months passed. You grew taller. More confident. Your accent softened. You began to blendnot vanish, but belong.
The children called you sister.
Neytiri painted your face for the first time in red clay and said, “You are learning.”
You began dreaming in Na’vi.
You began to forget the shape of your real hands.
And thenwithout warning everything burned.
peace is fragile. And fate is cruel.
Sylwanin and a few others, in an act of desperation, attacked an RDA bulldozer.
The humans retaliated mercilessly-guns, fire, screaming. You barely escaped with the younger children, dragging Sylwanin's broken body behind you, sobbing and praying for a miracle that would never come.
You dragged her behind you, sobbing. The children wailed.
By the time you returned to Hometree, your arms were slick with blood.
Mo’at’s cries shattered the air like glass. Neytiri collapsed, her scream muffled in Tsu'tey’s shoulder. Eytukan roared.
And you… you dropped to your knees.
“Kill me,” you begged. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.” A life for a life.
Tsu'tey looked at you then, eyes dark with grief.
“You walk with the sky people. You wear their face.”
But Neytiri stepped in front of you. So did the children.
“She saved us,” said one. “She ran.”
Mo’at’s voice cut through the silence.
“You are child,” she said at last. “You did not carry the gun.but You carry the guilt.”
But as a soul seeking redemption.
The days after Sylwanin’s death passed in silence and smoke.
You were allowed to stay, but no one truly looked at you.
Except the children. They brought you berries. They sat close to you at the fire, even when the adults scowled.
It was Neytiri who kept you grounded. She didn’t speak much. But she would find you each morning, nod once, and then disappear into the treesexpecting you to follow. And you always did.
The forest was the only place that didn’t hate you.
One day, as you climbed a tall root bridge near the river, you slipped. The branch cracked under your foot, and you would’ve fallenten, maybe fifteen feetif someone hadn’t caught your wrist.
He said nothing as he steadied you.
You tried to meet his eyes, but he was already walking away.
“I don’t belong here,” you muttered under your breath.
“You think you are the only one who has lost?” His voice was cold. “You think you are the only one who bleeds inside?”
You said nothing. Because you didn’t know how to carry his painor your own.
He walked away again. Slower, this time.
But he didn’t leave you behind.
Something changed after that.
He began to speak to you more oftenbrief words, clipped sentences, nothing flowery. But it was more than silence. And that, to you, was enough.
Sometimes, on hunts, he would motion for you to lead. Sometimes, during training, he would press your hand into the correct grip, hold it too long, then release it as if burned.
And when you laughedreally laughedduring a failed attempt to catch a leaping yerik, he didn’t scold you.
But it was the first time he had smiled since Sylwanin.
He had loved someone else. Someone irreplaceable.
You had come from the stars. You were a stranger wearing a second skin. A symbol of everything that had burned her down.
Still, some nights, he would sit beside you near the fire. And you would talk of nothingbirds, bugs, bad tracking daysand it would feel like breathing again.
The day you made your bow, Neytiri beamed. Even Tsu'tey-still hollowed by loss-gave a quiet nod.
"You have done well," he said.
"I don't feel like I have," you whispered.
He looked at you for a long moment.
"It keeps me up at night too. But you are not to blame.
Your connection deepened slowly. You laughed again. You healed. And he began to smile, only for you.One evening, as Neytiri painted you before your ceremony to be fully welcomed among the People, Tsu'tey's fingers lingered on your lips. He stared too long.
You stared back. No words passed, but something changed.
"You are Omaticaya now," he said.
You didn't return to your human body that night. Not the next, either. With Tsu'tey and Mo'at's help-and Eywa's blessing-you transferred permanently.
The RDA believed your avatar had died. Grace mourned you quietly, bitterly.
Tommy nor Jake was never told the truth.
You and Tsu'tey mated beneath the Tree of Souls. Months later, you bore a son. You named him Akari.
He had his father’s solemn eyes. Your quietness. He barely cried. His tiny fingers curled tightly around your thumb as if he had known you before this life.
You held him against your chest and whispered promises into his hair.
“I’ll never let you burn,” you said.
And for a time, there was peace.
Until a sky-born child stumbled into the forest.
Until Jake Sullyyour brotherfell from the stars.
You saw him from afar on a hunt with Neytiri. He was awkward, confused. A baby in a borrowed body. Your heart seized. You hadn't seen an Avatar in two years.
When the viperwolves descended on him, you and Neytiri saved him swiftly. He stared up at you, awed. "Don't thank," Neytiri snapped. "This is not a gift. It is sad."
And then he turned to you. Recognition hit like lightning.
"Y/N? No.. that can't be. You're dead."
"Jake?" you whispered. "They said you were coming. But... how are you here?"
"Grace said you-your mask-she saw you die!"
You couldn't speak. Couldn't explain. Neytiri pulled you away, muttering about omens. But as the atokirina floated down toward Jake and he swatted at it,you shouted.
"Atokirina!" Neytiri hissed, grabbing his arm. "it is a sign!"
You and Neytiri locked eyes.
"Lolu aungia," she whispered. This is a sign.
You didn’t speak to Jake again that day.
Later, under the roots of Hometree, you sat with Tsu'tey. Akari slept between you, curled like a leaf.
“He’s not what I expected,” Tsu'tey said quietly. “Your brother. He moves like a baby.”
“He is a baby in this world,” you said. “Like I was.”
Tsu'tey nodded, then looked away.
You sighed, brushing your son’s forehead.
“Jake was a marine,” you told Tsu'tey. “He came here armed. I don’t know why. And I’m afraid of what it means.”
Tsu'tey’s hand moved to your bellyyour second child, not yet born, stirred beneath the surface.
“You are my mate,” he said. “My heart beats for this family. I will protect it.”
You leaned your head against his shoulder.
In time, Jake learned the truth.
Grace returned to the clan and wept when she saw you alive. Tsu'tey welcomed her with respect. Your son curled quietly in your arms as Grace asked question after question.
“His name?” she asked, smiling down at the boy.
You looked at Tsu'tey, who stood nearby, tall and silent, watchful.
“Akari te Rongloa Tsu'tey’itan,” you said proudly. “Our little warrior.”
She hugged you then, overwhelmed.
“You’re… really happy, aren’t you?”
“I’m finally where I belong.”
But still, that shadow lingered.
At first, it was simple. He needed training. He needed language. Mo’at, perhaps moved by the atokirina, permitted him to stay. And Neytirireluctantlyagreed to teach him.
But it was you he watched. Not Neytiri. Not Grace.
“You left everything,” he said once, as you washed Akari in the shallow stream behind the village. “Your life. Your body. Your family.”
“I didn’t leave,” you said softly. “I found where I belong.”
“You don’t miss it? Earth?”
You looked at your sonhis pale eyes blinking up at you, his tiny mouth shaped like Tsu'tey’sand said nothing.
Because missing something didn’t mean you wanted it back.
Jake meant well. But his questions never stopped.
“Did they force you to stay?”
“Did you really… mate with one of them?”
He paused, staring at the glow-worms that lit the bark around you.
"I'm still scared," you admitted. "Scared you'll take me back. That the RDA will come again. That my children-*
Jake stepped forward and pulled you into a hug, forehead resting against yours like you used to do as kids.
"You don't have to explain."
"But I do," you said. "I abandoned everything. You. Grace. The mission. I should have stayed, should have fought-"
"You were a kid," Jake interrupted. "They sent you here with a fantasy and no plan. You didn't abandon anything. You survived. And somehow... you made this."
He looked at your kid."No one's taking you Not while I breathe "
As the weeks passed, the clan accepted him slowly. Neytiri softened. The warriors trained with him. Tsu'tey watched from a distance, always silent.
You saw the resentment in his shoulders.
The way his grip tightened on his knife when Jake laughed too loudly. Or stood too close to Neytiri.
Once, you caught him staring at your brother as if calculating every weak spot in his armor.
“He’s trying,” you said carefully one night as you sat in the trees, watching the stars flicker above the canopy.
“So was I,” Tsu'tey said. “Before your people burned my life to ash.”
There was nothing to say that would make it better.
One morning, Tsu'tey returned from his solo hunt pale and shaking.
He’d seen a digger. A bulldozer, carving its way toward sacred trees. The same kind of machine that had sparked Sylwanin’s death.
“It was just sitting there,” he said, breathless. “Just… chewing through everything.”
That night, you couldn’t sleep.
You sat beneath the roots of Hometree, your second child turning restlessly inside you. The air tasted like smoke, though no fire yet touched the leaves.
“You feel it too?” he asked.
You didn’t ask what he meant.
When the humans struck again, destroying the tree of voices, it was Tsu'tey who rallied the warriors first.
His voice rose like wind through bone.
You stood beside him, your bow in hand, your belly heavy with your second child.
“You still believe in peace?” she asked.
“I believe in protecting what we love.”
Jake returned from Hell’s Gate hours later, face dark, voice hollow.
“They’re coming,” he said. “In full force. If you don’t move, they’ll bring down the Hometree.”
The silence that followed was crushing.
Tsu'tey stepped forward, seething.
“You lied!” Tsu'tey shouted, stepping toward him. “You walked among us. Ate our food. Slept in our forest. And all the while, you fed them everything they needed to kill us!”
Jake bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”
Tsu'tey raised his blade.
You stepped between them.
Your voice cracked like thunder.
Tsu'tey lowered his blade.
When the RDA unleashed their fire on Hometree, you watched it fall.
The sound was unbearablelike a scream torn from the world itself. Trees taller than skyscrapers crashed into the dirt. Flame swallowed bark, and leaves glowed red before vanishing.
You saw Eytukan fall in the chaos.
You saw children pulled from the rubble.
You saw Tsu'tey dive into the smoke. And then… silence.
You ran toward the wreckage, lungs burning.
“Tsu'tey!” you screamed, over and over.
And finally,finally he emerged. Covered in soot. Limping. Blood on his shoulder. But alive.
You collapsed into him, sobbing.
“I thoughtI thought I lost you”
“We do not fall,” he said. “We fight.”
The battle was not won that day.
