i don't do bad sauce passes
One Nice Bug Per Day
Monterey Bay Aquarium
hello vonnie
đŞź
â
sheepfilms
çĽćĽ / Permanent Vacation
blake kathryn
if i look back, i am lost
Today's Document
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Game of Thrones Daily
d e v o n
No title available
Peter Solarz
Xuebing Du
izzy's playlists!
occasionally subtle
â
seen from Germany
seen from Morocco
seen from Singapore
seen from Peru
seen from New Zealand
seen from Germany
seen from Ireland
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Argentina
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States
@tinkerbelle05
About me
Taglist Info
Anon List
MasterList
Request Info
500 Followers Celebration!!
Schedule Poll
Blue Beetle Writing List
Spiderverse Writing List
All dividers by: jaysdividers, saradika, and mikeykuns
Please do not repost or re-upload my work under your name or a different platform, that is stealing! Also, please do not copy my work or anything then report as your own, that is also stealing!! However likes and reblogs are welcome and greatly appreciated
the girl who wonât grow up
seeing all the leaked screencaps of the aged up gaang got me thinking about yue </3
(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)
If you see this youâre legally obligated to reblog and tag with the book youâre currently reading
Welcome backđŤśâ¤ď¸ hope youâre doing good
Awe! Thanks!! Its good to be back đ
Heâs calm but not weak.
Angels
happy pride i GUESS
can i request clingy dilf!jake pleaseee â¤ď¸
Of course you can request dilf!jake, especially clingy dilf!jake. đââď¸đ
Something short and sweet. <3
Tysm for requesting, hope this is alright! :)
-:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:-
Over the years you'd gotten used to Jake being by your side, it was typical, expected, for your mate to dote on you â but you hadn't realised just how clingy Jake could be until after the move to Awa'atlu. Of course he'd put his attention into training and learning the ways of the Metkayina, but when he wasn't needed by them? You were hardly ever alone.
You first noticed it when the mothers of the clan invited you to weave nets for fishing. Jake had even pushed you to go so you could make friends, but of course he came with you, claiming it was a good idea since Tuk had quickly befriended the other kids her age. He sat by your side the entire afternoon, much slower at weaving and eventually giving up to watch your hands move over your own net. His hand lingered behind you as you sat on the mat, leaning over your shoulder. His hair would occasionally brush past your skin and you had to remind him to back up a little. Not that you didn't mind his lingering and his proximity, he just forgot that you needed your own personal space sometimes.
hiii, can u write Tuk fleeing the family's marui at night to sleep with metkayina! female reader because she feels comfortable with the reader since Neytiri's death (before they moved)? The first time, the reader doesn't even notice Tuk's arrival only for Jake to freak out the next day thinking Tuk disappeared. Then it happens often, and even if they don't have a romantic relationship (yet!!!), reader starts sleeping in the family's marui to prevent Tuk from escaping.
May Rest Find You, Little One | Jake Sully x Reader
Word count: 2.5k
Pairing: Jake Sully x Fem!Metkayina!Reader
Description: You discover that Tuk needs you around in order to have a full nights sleep, so Jake proposes to try something new.
Content Warnings: Talk of Neytiri being dead, Tuk being upset about it. Nothing else!
Author's note: Hello anon! Thank you so much for your request. Tuk is so cute! She deserves more attention! Hope I delivered on the sprinkle of Jake x reader romance you requested.
Na'vi Words used: Sa'nu = Mama Sempu = Daddy 'AngtsĂŹk = Hammerhead Titanothere (animal that squares up with Jake in Movie 1) 'itetsyip = Little daughter
Rain pattered lightly on the Mauriâs roof as you sat comfortably on your hammock. You held your project in your hands as you wove sturdy fibers together to create a knot in the chords.Â
For the past month you had gone back and forth on whether or not to add the Sullyâs arrival to your songchord, but the longer they stayed, the more they became a part of your story. At first, it had felt presumptuous to add their arrival as such a large moment in your life. They technically had no attachment to you other than friendship and you had no claim on them. Now, as you knotted a blue bead to the string, it felt like the right thing to do.Â
You had become an honorary member of their group, helping them to adapt to the Metkayina way, teaching them proper etiquette, and becoming close friends with each member. The patriarch had become very special to you and you bit back a smile at the thought of his handsome face.
Could you do a Tonowari x fem!Metkayina reader where sheâs chosen to be Tsahik and his mate, but he thinks she only wants the titleâthen slowly realizes she genuinely cares in little, quiet ways?
Title: The Shape of Quiet Love
Pairing: Tonowari x fem!Metkayina reader
Word Count 4,277
Tags: Slow burn, arranged bond, misunderstood intentions, soft gestures, quiet yearning, Metkayina clan traditions, Tonowari learning to love, eventual romance, domestic affection
Summary: You were chosen by Tonowariâs mother to be Tsahik and his mate but he never gave you a chance. Until he began to see the quiet ways you loved him.
Part I: The Choice
The reef glowed in the early morning light, beams of sun slipping through the waterâs surface and catching on coral outcroppings, painting the village in soft cyan. You stood with your feet planted in the sand, arms at your side, the sea breeze brushing your braids back from your face.
You had never expected this.
âThe Great Mother guides my choice,â the current Tsahik said solemnly, her voice echoing around the gathering space. âAnd she has whispered a name to me.â
A quiet hush settled over the Metkayina clan as eyes turned toward the platform. Beside you stood Tonowari, tall and composed, arms crossed over his broad chest. He didnât look at you. He hadnât since youâd stepped onto the dais.
Tsahik continued. âMy son, the future Oloâeyktan, must walk beside a woman not only of strength but of deep heart. One who knows the sea, and its silence. One who will care for our people as surely as she cares for what is unseen.â
You swallowed, throat dry despite the salt air.
âI name her,â she said, reaching out and placing her hand on your shoulder, âas the future Tsahik of the Metkayina and as the one chosen to walk beside my son, Tonowari.â
Gasps spread through the gathered clan like ripples from a stone. Some were pleased. Some surprised. Some clearly⌠less than thrilled.
âSheâs so young.â
âI thought it would be Neyla.â
âTonowari will never agree.â
But it was done. The choosing was sacred.
You bowed your head in reverence, then dared to glance at Tonowari beside you.
His face was impassive, carved from stone. Not one flicker of surprise. No joy, no protest. Just a tight nod as he stepped forward and said, âAs you wish, Mother.â
And then he stepped back again.
That evening, the firepit roared with celebration. Fish roasted. Elders sang old songs. Dancers wove across the sands in spirals of movement. You sat at the edge of the feast, untouched fruit in your lap, watching Tonowari.
He was surrounded by others warriors, friends, elders but somehow still apart. Like a reef too sharp to swim near.
You didnât speak to him that night. And he didnât seek you out.
The days that followed were quiet. At least, for you.
The clan welcomed you with the smiles they saved for duty. You were trained under the Tsahik, taught rituals, healing, the ways of Eywa. You excelled quietly, without need for praise. But whispers followed your shadow wherever you swam.
âShe is clever, yes, but was she the right choice?â
âShe doesnât speak much. Perhaps she is unsure.â
âI hear Tonowari avoids her. Maybe there will be another choosing.â
You bore it all. Silently. Stoically.
Even when you passed Tonowari on the way to the reef, and he barely nodded at you. Even when he walked behind you during rituals but never beside you. Even when he allowed others to flirt and laugh and touch his arm as if you did not exist.
He was never cruel. But kindness? That was something else entirely.
You thought, once, of asking him outright: Why do you hate me so? But the words died on your tongue each time you met his distant eyes.
Still, you did what you were meant to do.
You watched. You learned. You remembered.
Tonowari liked grilled fish, not boiled. He dipped his sea fruit in crushed shell spice, never salt. He preferred silence after long swims, not chatter. His armband had three beads carved with his fatherâs crest he rubbed them when he was anxious.
So you cooked how he liked. Served him during communal meals without fanfare. You replaced the fraying sash of his wrap before he noticed it was worn. You wove a new loincloth for him and left it quietly on his platform, stitched with small green spirals the same pattern as the tattoo near his collarbone.
He didnât thank you.
But he wore it.
Tonowari was a leader before he was a man. At least, thatâs what the elders always said.
You watched him from afar more often than not giving orders before a storm, swimming at the head of every migration, holding the young warriorsâ gaze with a kind of gravity that could pull stars from the sky.
And yet, he rarely looked your way.
The absence of hatred wasnât kindness. It was just emptiness. A space between you wide as the ocean, made wider by every day you stood at his side in ritual but never in spirit.
You stopped expecting warmth from him. You started giving it anyway.
It began with a small basket of food.
The clan had returned from an exhausting dive, hunting large, armored reef beasts. Youâd watched from the shore, preparing herbs and bandages in case someone came back wounded. When Tonowari emerged from the sea last, his face was drawn tight, and his shoulder bore a ragged slice along the deltoid.
You didnât speak. You just approached, cleaned it with practiced hands, and rubbed in a cooling salve from sea anemone roots. He watched you in silence but didnât flinch.
Later that evening, you prepared his meal separately. Not as Tsahik. Not as some ceremonial gesture.
But as a woman whoâd watched him enough to know what calmed his nerves.
Grilled fish, citrus-glazed seaweed, fruit sweetened with crushed shells everything he favored, wrapped in soft cloth and left by his sleeping mat. No note. No fanfare.
The next morning, the basket was returned to your platform. Empty. Clean. Carefully folded.
And not a word was said.
You noticed small things after that.
He didnât leave the communal fire as early anymore. Sometimes he lingered near where you sat with Tsahik, listening quietly.
He started walking closer beside you. Never touching, never lingering too long but no longer avoiding you either.
One night, a young woman from the weaving groups placed her hand on Tonowariâs arm, laughing brightly at something only she heard.
You expected him to allow it. To remain cold and still as always.
But he gently removed her hand. Said, âRespect the future Tsahik.â
The girl paled. Apologized. Walked away.
You were too stunned to speak. But Tonowari looked at you for the briefest of moments.
And nodded.
That evening, you sat alone by the reef, braiding sea thread into long cords for childrenâs charms. Your fingers moved from memory, your thoughts drifting like foam on the waves.
You didnât hear him approach.
âYou sit alone often,â came his voice, low and calm.
You blinked. Looked up.
Tonowari stood there, arms at his sides, expression unreadable. The moonlight carved soft lines into his cheekbones, his tattoos catching the blue hue of the night tide.
âIt is quiet here,â you answered.
He sat down beside you. Not too close but not far, either.
After a moment, he said, âYou knew I liked citrus.â
Your fingers paused in their braid. âYes.â
âYou made the fish perfectly. Even the texture.â
âI listen,â you said simply.
He turned to face you. âWhy?â
The word struck deeper than it should have.
You met his eyes. âBecause I care.â
He stared at you. Really looked. As if seeing you not as a duty or a name but as a person flesh and thought, desire and devotion, waiting patiently on the other side of silence.
He looked away then, brows drawn. âI thought⌠you only wanted the title. Like the others.â
You couldâve laughed. Or cried.
Instead, you said, âI never asked for this. But I never asked to be overlooked, either.â
The wind picked up. His fingers twitched on his knee.
âI see that now,â he said, quietly.
In the weeks that followed, the space between you began to close.
He didnât become someone new overnight. But Tonowari started seeking your counsel more during clan meetings. Asked your opinion before the Tsahik had a chance to answer for you.
Once, he brought you a carved comb made of reefbone. It wasnât fancy. But the teeth were wide enough for your thick braids, and it had a wave motif carved into the handle one youâd painted onto your sleeping mat as a child.
âHow did you know I like this design?â you asked him, genuinely curious.
He shrugged. âI listen.â
You smiled, and this time, he saw it.
There were still bad days.
Tonowari was under pressure. From his people. From his own fears. You learned to recognize the way his shoulders tensed before a council meeting or how his jaw flexed when someone questioned his authority.
But on those days, you made sure his meal was waiting. You touched his arm briefly before a ritual. You whispered, You are enough, once, just before he walked onto the central platform.
He didnât say anything.
But he took your hand in his when the chants began.
One night, a storm blew hard over the outer reef. Warriors were dispatched to anchor structures and bring in supplies from drifting platforms. Tonowari returned soaked to the bone, bleeding from a coral scrape on his thigh, his hair plastered to his face.
You were waiting.
You didnât ask. You simply pulled him into your platform hut, dried his arms, and dressed the wound in silence.
He watched you the whole time.
Finally, his voice cracked the quiet. âI do not deserve this from you.â
You tied the last knot in the bandage. âWhy not?â
âI doubted you.â
You met his eyes. âYouâre not the only one who has.â
âBut I was the one who mattered.â
He exhaled sharply. Reached for your wrist stopped. Then, slowly, he brushed your fingers with his.
âI see you,â he whispered.
You froze.
But your heart leapt. Because it wasnât the formal greeting, the rote phrase of ceremony.
It was real. Raw. His voice broke on the words.
âI see you,â he said again, this time steadier.
You curled your fingers into his. âIâve seen you every day, Tonowari.â
He bent his forehead to yours.
And for once, there was no sea between you.
Tonowari didnât kiss you that night.
But something in the air shifted between you. A thick, unseen thing. Like the pause between waves soft, expectant.
After that storm, he no longer hovered near you like someone fulfilling a duty. He sought you. Sought your presence, your thoughts, your quiet eyes.
And for the first time, he gave in return.
It began with a cloak.
Youâd woven him many garments before shawls, wrist wraps, satchels. But heâd never made you anything. Not because he was selfish. Because he didnât know how.
So when he approached you holding a seafoam-colored wrap, edges uneven and clearly stitched by someone still learning, you nearly dropped the basket of dried herbs in your arms.
âI wanted you to have this,â he said, voice low and careful. âYou get cold when the wind shifts.â
You took it with trembling fingers. The fabric was rough in places, but warm. It smelled like reef and him.
You pressed it to your cheek.
âThank you,â you said softly. âThis means more than you know.â
His throat bobbed with an unspoken word. But he only nodded and walked away.
That night, you slept wrapped in it.
Time passed gently.
Tonowari began joining you during morning meditations. Once, he helped you carry herbal satchels to the tidepool children. Another time, he braided your hair while you rested from a long healing ceremony, his fingers slow and reverent.
He didnât speak much. But when he did, his words lingered like whale songs low and warm, felt more in the chest than the ears.
You began to laugh with him. To smile more openly. To touch his wrist when he looked tired, and not worry he would flinch.
And in turn, he looked at you like you were no longer just the Tsahik who was chosen for him
But the woman he wouldâve chosen himself.
The clan noticed.
No one dared say anything too directly, but you heard it in their tones.
âDid you see how Tonowari looked at her today?â
âThey speak without words now.â
âShe softened him.â
And perhaps you had. But more truthfully, heâd let himself be softened. Like sea rock worn down not by force but by constancy.
One afternoon, while helping a young diver with her first healing session, you felt a presence at your back.
You turned and Tonowari was watching.
He hadnât interrupted. Just waited.
When the child left with her parents, Tonowari came closer.
âYou are gentle with them,â he said. âEven when they are frightened.â
You smiled. âThey are still learning.â
He nodded. âSo was I.â
Your eyes met. His meaning sank into your bones.
So was I.
That night, he kissed you.
It wasnât planned. There was no ceremony, no prelude.
You had just returned from a healing outpost on the far reef. Exhausted, muscles sore, your hands still dyed with leaf pigments.
You climbed the platform where he stood, waiting.
âI heard you returned late,â he said. âI was worried.â
You looked up at him, too tired to speak, too full of love to hide.
And he kissed you.
Not hard. Not fast. Just sure.
The kind of kiss that said, I am no longer afraid.
Your hands curled into his waist wrap. His cupped your jaw like something fragile and sacred.
And when he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours, he whispered:
âYou were never a duty.â
You cried. A little. Quietly.
He held you through it.
From that day on, the world softened around you.
There was still war. Still storms. Still hard days. But now there was him. And he was no longer just someone you loved in secret.
He was someone who loved you back.
It bloomed slowly like everything between you had.
Tonowari was not loud in love. He didnât make speeches or shout his feelings across the village. But you felt it in every gesture.
In the way he warmed your meal when you came home late.
In the way he carved a small water dish for your pet ilusa.
In the way he waited for you each night, only sleeping once he knew you were safe beside him.
He whispered I see you against your shoulder when the stars were high. You whispered I see you back, with hands curled over his heart.
One morning, you woke to find him gone from your sleeping mat.
Heâd left something in your hands woven cloth, carefully folded. A ceremonial sash.
You opened it and gasped softly.
It bore the mark of Tsahik but also, stitched beside it, the symbol for mate.
Tonowari had made it himself.
Heâd been learning in secret from the elder weavers. Practicing when you were away. You could see the imperfections, but you could also see the care. The patience. The intention.
When he returned, salt still in his hair from a dawn swim, you rushed to him.
You didnât speak. Just held him.
He murmured, âI want you beside me. As my mate. As my equal. As the woman I love.â
You said yes before he could finish the sentence.
The Metkayina clan gathered at the edge of the reef beneath the setting sun. The tide was low, the sand damp and warm under your bare feet, and the sky was streaked in soft rose and gold.
The waters whispered to the shore, carrying gifts of foam and fragments of coral. And before the entire clan before Eywa, before the Great Motherâs sacred eye you and Tonowari stood across from one another.
He wore the ceremonial paint of Oloâeyktan, freshly renewed, but this time his chest bore something else: a small spiral inked above his heart. It matched your own. A symbol of the tideâs endless return.
You had drawn it for each other the night before. With his hand steadying your wrist. With yours trembling when you painted his.
Tsahik, his mother, stood between you, her voice strong, clear.
âEywa hears all hearts. She knows when love is chosen, and when it is earned. She watches over those who walk beside one another not only in duty, but in truth.â
Her eyes met yours.
âYou have walked this path with patience. With grace.â
Then she turned to Tonowari.
âAnd you, my son, have found what it means to love not from pride, but from seeing.â
You felt his fingers brush yours.
The final chant began. The clan joined in, their hum rising like a rising tide, resonant and deep. And when it faded, the old Tsahik stepped back.
Now it was your moment.
You and Tonowari stepped forward.
And he spoke first.
âI once believed you were chosen for me. That I had no choice,â he said, voice firm and low, carrying across the water. âBut I was wrong. I see now that Eywa did not trap me. She gifted me someone I was too blind to understand. And now, I choose you. Not because I must but because I cannot imagine a single day without your hand in mine.â
The clan was silent. The reef wind stilled.
You swallowed the lump in your throat. âAnd I choose you,â you said, voice shaking. âBecause even when you did not see me, I loved you. And now that you do there is no end to that love.â
His hands took yours.
Foreheads pressed.
And the wave rolled in behind you both, warm and gentle, lapping over your feet like Eywaâs blessing.
The clan cheered.
But all you could hear was the sound of his breath against your cheek, and the quiet, precious words that followed:
âYou are my home now.â
Your joining was not grand, not ostentatious.
But it was true.
And in the days that followed, you found a rhythm in your lives that was soft and sure.
You slept together now, wrapped in the same woven cloths, his heartbeat under your ear at night.
He kissed your temple every morning before diving. You left small offerings fruit, polished shell, ocean stones by his weapons rack.
He brought you shells that looked like stars. You sang to him while brushing the salt from his braids.
Once, he surprised you by carving a small talon flute one youâd told him you used to play as a child, long ago. He had asked no questions then. But weeks later, the gift arrived on your mat, smoothed and tuned.
âI remember everything about you,â he said, brushing his fingers over your knuckles.
And he did.
Every day, Tonowari showed you that love did not have to roar to be strong. It could be steady. It could be patient. It could be quiet and still move the world.
You found joy in mundane things.
Helping children mend their fishing nets. Dancing in the tide pools when no one was looking. Singing while preparing salves.
Tonowari watched you in those moments like you were a prayer answered.
He laughed more now. Full, open. A sound you rarely heard before.
When the other clan leaders visited and commented on how much more grounded he seemed, he only said, âI have someone who reminds me what matters.â
One evening, after a long training day, you found him half-asleep on your shared mat, shoulders sore from leading dives.
You sat beside him, fingers working the tightness from his muscles, humming gently.
âYou work too hard,â you said softly.
He cracked one eye open. âI work to make you proud.â
You leaned down and kissed his temple. âYou make me proud when you rest, too.â
He smiled, slow and sleepy, and reached for your hand.
âThen stay,â he murmured.
You curled into his side, his breath deepening as sleep overtook him.
And for a long time, you simply lay there, the reef winds outside your home, the warmth of his body against yours.
A life not of ceremony or status.
But of belonging.
Of quiet, sacred love.
The seasons turned gently after your bonding.
Not with fanfare or sudden change but with the subtle certainty of the tide. The reef warmed. The young ones grew bolder in the water. Storms came and went, leaving the coral stronger in their wake.
And so did your life with Tonowari.
You became Tsahik not all at once, but gradually. The old Tsahik never stepped aside abruptly; she guided you, corrected you when needed, and most importantly trusted you. You learned to read the currents not just of the sea, but of people. To feel when a childâs fear was deeper than scraped skin. When a warriorâs anger hid grief. When silence meant more than words.
Tonowari watched you step into the role with a kind of reverence that still startled you.
He never interrupted your rituals. Never spoke over you in council. And when others questioned your decisions, he did not defend you loudly.
He simply said, âShe knows what she is doing.â
And that was enough.
You learned, over time, that Tonowari carried guilt like a second spine.
Sometimes it came out in quiet ways how he lingered in doorways watching you work, how he reached for you at night as if afraid you might vanish, how he would grow unusually silent during celebrations meant to honor you.
One evening, after a long council meeting, you found him standing alone at the edge of the water, staring out into the dark sea.
âYouâre carrying something,â you said gently, coming to stand beside him.
He exhaled slowly. âI think about how close I came to losing you.â
You frowned. âYou never lost me.â
He turned to you then, eyes dark and honest. âI almost did. When I thought you were something you were not. When I let my pride speak louder than my heart.â
You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. âBut you learned.â
âYes,â he said. âBecause you taught me. Without demanding anything in return.â
He lowered his forehead to yours. âI will spend my life being worthy of that.â
You smiled softly. âThen spend it with me.â
The first time a child ran to you instead of the elders for comfort, something settled in your chest.
The first time a wounded warrior thanked you with tears in his eyes, you understood the weight of your calling.
And the first time Tonowari introduced you to visiting clan leaders as my mate, my Tsahik, you realized how far he had come.
He was proud of you not because of your title, but because of who you were.
Your home filled with small rituals.
Morning swims together before the village woke. Shared meals eaten cross-legged on woven mats. Quiet conversations before sleep sometimes deep, sometimes silly, sometimes nothing at all.
Tonowari learned the rhythms of you the same way you had learned him.
He noticed when you needed solitude and guarded it fiercely. When you were overwhelmed, he pressed his forehead to yours and breathed with you until the world slowed.
Once, during a particularly heavy season, you broke down quietly while preparing herbs hands shaking, tears slipping free.
You hadnât meant for him to see.
But he did.
He took the bowl from your hands, set it aside, and pulled you into his chest without a word. Held you while you cried. Kissed your hair. Stayed until the storm passed.
Later, you whispered, âIâm supposed to be strong.â
He answered, without hesitation, âYou are. And strong people are allowed to rest.â
Years later, children sat at your feet during evening fires, wide-eyed as you told stories of the reef and the Great Mother.
They loved Tonowariâs stories best the ones where he pretended to be fierce but always smiled too soon.
And when one small child asked, âTsahik, how did you and Oloâeyktan fall in love?â the whole circle leaned in.
You glanced at Tonowari.
He raised a brow, amused. âTell them.â
You smiled. âIt wasnât loud. Or fast. It didnât arrive like a storm.â
You reached for his hand.
âIt came like the tide. Slowly. Patiently. Again and again. Until we realized it had always been there.â
Tonowari squeezed your fingers.
âAnd I was a fool,â he added, âfor not seeing it sooner.â
Laughter rippled through the group.
But when the fire burned low and the children drifted off to sleep, he pressed a kiss to your temple and whispered, âThank you for waiting for me.â
You answered softly, âI would do it all again.â
On the night you fully assumed the role of Tsahik, the sea was impossibly calm.
The old Tsahik placed her hands over yours, eyes warm with pride. âYou were always meant for this,â she said.
Later, when the ceremony ended and the village quieted, you stood alone at the waterâs edge.
Tonowari joined you, slipping his arm around your waist.
âI was wrong about many things,â he said quietly.
You tilted your head. âAnd right about one.â
He smiled. âChoosing you.â
You leaned into him, watching the moonlight ripple across the reef.
And there beneath Eywaâs stars, with the sea breathing steadily around you you understood something deeply, truly, finally:
Love did not need to be loud to be real.
It only needed to be seen.
And this timey
You both were.
In the Quiet Moments
Summary: (Requested) Braiding Neteyamâs hair.
CW: None, fluff
A/N: Thanks for the request.
----
You two laid on the soft and lush grass of the forest floor together. It was a quiet day where neither of you had any duties that needed attending; it was a rare moment where you two could just be and enjoyed the others company. The environment evidently emulated your peaceful mood; the air felt light, and it was bright out.
Eywa Bears Witness
Pairing: Neteyam x Reader
Word Count:914
Request open!
The Tree of Souls glows brighter than usual tonight.
Its tendrils sway gently in the night air, strands of light cascading like breath made visible. The forest is quiet here,no laughter, no hurried footsteps,only the soft hum of Eywa, ancient and aware.
You stand at the edge of the clearing, fingers laced together, heart beating faster than youâd like to admit.
Neteyam stands beside you.
He isnât wearing his usual armor. No weapons, no markings of duty,just simple beads at his neck, his queue resting freely down his back. He looks⌠younger like this. Softer.
âAre you nervous?â you whisper.
He lets out a slow breath. âA little.â
You glance at him. âThatâs new.â
He huffs quietly. âDonât spread that around.â
You smile, then grow serious again. âWe donât have to do this now.â
Neteyam turns fully toward you. âI know.â
âIf itâs too much,â
âItâs not,â he says immediately. Then, gentler, âItâs just⌠important.â
The word settles between you.
You nod. âIt is.â
The elders are gathered near the base of the tree, quiet and respectful. Moâat watches you both with calm eyes, her expression unreadable but not unkind. Jake and Neytiri stand slightly behind her,present, but giving space.
Neteyam glances toward his parents, then back to you.
âThey donât expect anything from us tonight,â he murmurs. âOnly honesty.â
You swallow. âThat might be harder.â
He smiles faintly. âWith you? Never.â
Your freckles glow softly as you step closer to him.
âYou feel it too, donât you?â you ask.
Neteyam nods. âI have for a long time.â
You look up at the Tree of Souls, its light reflecting in your eyes. âI didnât want to believe it at first.â
âWhy?â he asks.
âBecause bonds like thisâŚâ You hesitate. âThey change everything.â
He reaches for your hand. âSo does pretending theyâre not there.â
Your fingers interlace naturally, like theyâve always known how.
Moâatâs voice carries gently across the clearing. âEywa hears those who come with open hearts.â
Neteyam squeezes your hand once, grounding himself,and you.
âAre you ready?â he whispers.
You take a breath. âWith you? Yes.â
Together, you step forward.
The ground beneath the Tree of Souls feels warm, alive. The tendrils sway closer, responding to your presence. You can feel Eywaâs attention,not heavy, not judging,just aware.
Moâat gestures. âSpeak, child of the People.â
Neteyamâs throat tightens, but he lifts his chin.
âI come not as the eldest,â he says steadily. âNot as a future leader. I come as myself.â
Your chest aches at that.
âI have walked many paths,â he continues. âBut when I walk beside her, the way is clear.â
You feel your breath hitch.
Moâat turns to you. âAnd you?â
You swallow, then speak. âI come with no demands. Only truth. My heart chose him before my words could.â
The tendrils of the Tree stir more strongly now, light pulsing brighter, faster.
Neteyam turns to you. âI was taught that being strong means standing alone.â
You shake your head softly. âAnd I was taught that love makes us brave.â
His eyes soften. âYou taught me that.â
He lifts your joined hands. âI see you. Not as expectation. Not as future. But as now.â
Your voice trembles. âI see you too. Not as what you carry,but as who you are.â
The Tree responds.
Light flows down the tendrils, brushing your skin, wrapping around your hands like a living promise. Gasps ripple through the gathered clan.
Moâatâs voice is hushed. âEywa listens.â
Neteyam breathes, almost in awe. âShe knows.â
You nod, tears threatening. âShe always has.â
The tendrils drift closer, brushing your queues gently.
Neteyam looks at you, eyes wide. âAre you ready?â
You answer without hesitation. âYes.â
Together, you reach up.
The connection is immediate.
Warmth floods your chest,not overwhelming, but grounding. You feel Neteyam beside you, his presence steady, familiar, safe. Not separate. Never separate.
Neteyam exhales sharply. âI feel you.â
You laugh softly through tears. âGood. Because I feel you too.â
Images flicker behind your eyes,not visions, but feelings. Trust. Laughter. Quiet moments. Shared burdens. A life unfolding not in grand gestures, but in small, steady steps.
When the connection eases, the clearing is silent.
Then Moâat smiles.
âEywa has witnessed your bond,â she says. âFrom this night, you walk as one.â
Neteyamâs breath leaves him in a shaky laugh. âThatâs it?â
Moâatâs eyes twinkle. âThat is everything.â
Behind her, Jake exhales slowly, something like relief in his expression.
Neytiri steps forward, gaze intense as she looks between you and her son. For a long moment, she says nothing.
Then she nods.
âYou chose with your heart,â she says to Neteyam. âThat is the strongest choice.â
He bows his head. âThank you, Mother.â
She turns to you. âWalk beside him. Do not let him carry alone.â
You meet her gaze. âI wonât.â
When the elders step back, Neteyam finally lets out the breath heâs been holding.
âHey,â he murmurs. âStill with me?â
You smile, pressing your forehead to his. âAlways.â
His voice is soft, almost disbelieving. âYouâre my mate.â
You laugh gently. âYou sound surprised.â
He grins. âIâm just⌠happy.â
You rest your hand over his heart. âMe too.â
The Tree of Souls hums around you, its light steady now, content.
Neteyam leans closer, voice low and sure. âWhatever comes next,expectations, duties, fear,I face it with you.â
You nod. âAnd I with you.â
He smiles, calm and certain. âGood. Then weâre ready.â
Hand in hand, under Eywaâs witness, you step forward,not into destiny, but into something better.
A choice.
Looking for a fic
I am looking for an neteyam x reader fic. Basically, the reader gets hurt, and due to Kiri's poor wording, which makes it sound more serious than it is, Neteyam rushes over to the reader. But the injury isn't that bad. Thanks
Too Slow
Summary: You found that Neteyam was slow. He took his time courting you, even though he was intentional. The elders saw it as respectful, your friends found it swoon worthy, you found it irritating.
CW: Neteyam x Na'vi!reader, Angst, Miscommunication, Self-esteem issues, Nudity but nothing happens
Part 1: Here
A/N: Sorry this took so long. Hope you guys liked it, and sorry if the ending felt rushed.
----
âWe need to talk.â
Ok so there is this thing that becomes clear from ATWOW and AFAA deleted scenes and which I sorely wish had been left in, and that is the fact that Jake considers the Battle of the Halleluia Mountains a failure. In one of the deleted scenes, he tells Kiri "I didn't win. Eywa did", and that all those Na'vi who died died because of him and they died for nothing.
In his own eyes, calling the clans after Grace's death was an impulsive decision brought on by grief, and arguably an abuse of his power as Toruk Makto (don't forget that at that time, Jake had no way of knowing that the RDA was planning to destroy the Tree of Souls). He called the clans into battle they couldn't win, and at least two entire clans - the Olangi and the Trr'ong - were all but wiped out.
That's how Jake sees himself.
So when he cringes when Neytiri tells Ronal that he "led the clans to victory", it's not him being like "shit my wife is escalating the situation", she's unknowingly poking right at the heart of his trauma.
It's a small thing that if it were made explicit in the finished movies would explain so much of Jake's behavior in the sequels.
Hiiii <3
I just read pt 1 of your Too Slow fic and I loveddd it!! If you can, add me to the tag list please?𼺠Iâd be so sad if I missed it lmao
Of course you can be added. Thank you for liking my story. Iâll try to get part 2 up during the weekend. đ
Rá´á´á´Ęá´Ęá´á´
â Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!human!reader
â Summary: After a gone wrong adventure through the forest with Neteyam, you wake up injured and unresponsive. With limited time and resources, Neteyam begs the help of Eywa to save you. However in the process, Eywa bestows an unfavorable twist of fate upon you.
â Warnings: none(?)
â Word Count: 2k
â Notes: should I open my requests?
Pá´Ęá´ 1 | Pá´Ęá´ 2
Aá´ á´á´á´Ę Má´sá´á´ĘĘÉŞsá´
The next time you wake up, you're greeted by fluorescent lights and large glass windowpanes. Your body tenses at the unfamiliar setting, your eyes darting between pieces of unfamiliar machinery. Â
Your mind beginning to spiral, all the worst case scenarios jumping to the front of your brain. You mustve passed out and gotten taken by the Sky People-  Â
The muffled sound of a door swinging open and footsteps as they approach closer to the glass, interrupt your thoughts. Your heartbeat picks up, body tensing as you prepare yourself to lunge at whoever's taken you. You hear someone speaking, although their words are muffled by the clear barrier. You listen intently for a moment.Â
The voice sounds vaguely familiar to you, and you frown, brows furrowing in confusion. Another moment of you trying to put your finger on whoâs voice it is and it hits you. Â
Norman! Â
You were in the human hospital back at High Camp. Not some twisted RDA facility. Â
You breathe a sigh of relief, your body relaxes, muscles loosening. You close your eyes, trying to steady your pounding heart. Your head rests back onto the pillow, it plush body comfortable and soft. You were alive, you were safe. Â
A moment later the glass door is pushed open and Norman walks in, Max in tow.Â
Theyâre buried in the screen of the device being held in Normsâ hand. Muttering scientific gibberish. Something about mycelium this, mycelium that.
You just watch quietly, waiting for them to realize youâre awake. Â
The longer you look at them, the more confused you get though. Something looked off. They seemed...Â
âYou guys don't look as small as youusually do.â You blurt suddenly. Frowning as you hear your own voice.Â
Weird, your voice didnât sound the same either.Â
Their heads snap up at your voice, eyes widening and mouths opening slightly as if to gasp, but no sound leaves their lips.
Norm stutters, shock written all over his face. Â
âY-youâre up!â He notes, eyes wide as if he was looking at a ghost.
He reaches behind him to tap Max, turning his head quickly and mouthing something you can't make out from where you sit.Â
Max nods quickly, almost frantic, and hurriedly leaves the room, his lab coat trailing in the air behind him like a cape.
You nod, tipping your head, still confused. Â
âDid you grow or something?â You ask, ignoring his statement of the obvious. How long had you been asleep for? Â
âUm no no, I didn't grow you um-â Norm starts, then cuts himself off. His voice sounding unsure as he stumbles over his words. He pauses for a second, searching for the right words.
Your frown deepens as you watch him.
You? Â
After a moment he finally speaks again voice steadier as he mutters âItâs easier to just show you...â
He turns his head, eyes raking over the different appliances before his gaze lands on a small mirror lying on a table standing next to the entryway. Â
He grabs it, walking towards you and jutting it out so you can take it from him by the handle. Â
You reach for it, then pause, blinking at the small pinkish-tan hand that extends towards the mirror as you reach for it. Confusion riddles your mind.
You draw your hand back, then you reach for the mirror again, but the same hand moves to grab it again. Â
You stare for a moment, blinking in confusion. Then your face drops, eyes widening as you gasp. Â
âNo, no, no!â You mutter, panic rushing through you. You snatch the mirror from Normanâs hold, turning the reflective surface towards you and holding it up so you have a clear view of your face.
Your breath catches in your throat. Your eyes beginning to sting, waterline filling with tears as you stare back at the girl in the mirror.Â
Your hand comes up to touch your face, and you see the same strange, small hand come to rest on your cheek. Â
This wasn't right. This wasn't you. This was a Sky Person, so how could it be that you were controlling her body and feeling her feelingsâÂ
A loud clatter from outside comes, and suddenly a large blue body barling through the doorway and into the small room. Long blue legs staggering to catch the weight they hold, as their owner trys to avoid toppling over Norm who quickly scurries to the corner of the room. Â
Your head snaps up, having to crane far up to meet the Naâvis eye. Â
âNeteyam.â You breathed, your voice cracking. Hot tears fall from your eyes, leaving a burning trail of heat in their wake. Your hands come up to cover your mouth. You let out an ugly wretched sob. Â
âY/N.â Neteyam reaches for you, his large blue hand moving to cup your face, but you move away, throwing off the soft covers Norm and his scientists had provided you during your recovery. Â
âNo, dont touch me!â You want to scream the words, yell as loud as you can, but all you can manage are broken mangled sobs. Â
You swing your legs over the edge of the hospital bed, sliding down until your tiny feet touch the cool tile ground. You warbled, as you attempted to stand, your new body still unfamiliar to you, and it felt as though you were a baby only just learning to walk for a moment. Neteyam reached out again, a caring attempt to help steady you but you rejected it once more. Â
âWoah-be careful. Take it easy sylunag.â He tried to usher you back towards the bed with his kind words and soft touches, but each brush of his skin against yours burned, like molten rock on flesh. Â
âNeteyam don't look at meâpleaseââ your voice cracked again as your body wracked with another round of sobs. You took a step back, away from him. Â
Your free hand came to wrap around your abdomen, nails digging into the alien skin that was poorly veiled by a paper gown. âI cantâI don't want you seeing me like thisââ Â
Sympathy shined in his golden eyes. âY/N-â He began but you couldn't bare the weight of his gaze on you any longer. Â
In one swift movement you darted. Running around one of his legs and ducking to avoid being caught by his hand that swooped down in attempt to grab you. One foot after another you ran, weaving through the lab coats and alien machinery until you were met with a heavy metal door. Â
You slammed your body into it, recklessly not caring how it would hurt you. Or more over the body you were now in. The force was enough to crack the airtight seal and knock the breath out of your lungs. You didn't give yourself a chance to regain your stamina though. Instead, leaning against the metal frame and continuing attempting to push the door fully open. Â
Air. You needed fresh air. Â
Another forceful shove into the door, and it burst open. You took off running again. Â
Moments later you could hear Neteyam calling after you once again. Hear his heavy steps following behind you as you ran.Â
You didn't stop though, you couldn't. You needed to get away. To escape all this. Escape the body you were now in and the way Neteyam would inevitably never love you the same, and parent's judgmental expression. All the eyes that had once looked at you with love, respect, and pride would now undoubtedly look at you with hate and disregard. You were sure of it. Â
Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. Neteyam voice grew louder from behind you as he caught up but you weren't ready to stand still yet. Â
So, you pushed yourself until your thighs began to burn, and your feet hurt from the rocky grounds, they had yet to become accustomed to. Even after your feet throbbed and your lungs felt like they were going to pop, you pushed yourself to continue further. Â
Until finally your body grew too tired to keep up with youth your mind's commands. Your strides becoming sloppy and sluggish. Your feet not lifting quite high enough, dragging just a second to long at the wrong time. Your toes caught on dead vine that lay discarded on the cave floor, throwing you off balance and sending you tumbling onto the rocky ground. Â
You yelped, cursing your tiny, weak, and untrained body as you fell, hissing at the way the unforgiving terrain bit at your flesh. Â
Behind you, you heard Neteyamâs footsteps slow, his pace easing as he caught up to you, crouching down next to you. Â
You turned to look at him, eyes glazed over with tears as they met his. His heart panged in his chest.Â
âY/N...â he started, but his words seemed to fail him. Leaving the two of you in a depressing, dragging silence. Â
âWhy?â You asked, sounding defeated. Â
âI-â Neteyam sighed, taking one of your hands and clasping it in his own, âIâm not sure Y/N. You got hurt, and my grandmother tried everything she could in that moment, but you were injured badly and there wasn't enough time so-â he took a deep breath, willing himself to continue as his own eyes brimmed with fresh tears.Â
âWe took you to the Spirit Tree. We begged the help of the Eywa.â Â
He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the soft skin, âShe saved your life yawntu.â Â
You stared at your hand in his, and your stomach churned. It looked so small, so out of place there now. Another stream of tears rolled down your face. Â
You looked at him enerstly. Â
âI would rather she have let me die in her arms.â Â
Neteyams hold tightened around your hand, and he pulled you up, cupping your face. Â
âDon't say that sylunag.â Â
âIt would have been a more merciful fate then having to live in alien skin forever. I cannot even connect with my Ikran now, or Eywa-â your breath hitched, âand I will never be able to make Tshyalu with you.â Â
Neteyam shook his head, a sad smile turning on his face as he reached behind you, grasping at the long braid that still grew from behind your neck. You had been to preoccupied processing this new change to notice it. Â
âNo ma yawntu, Eywa would not be that cruel.â Neteyam pulled the braid out, letting the hair at the end fall away to reveal the end of your Kuru, âand look,â his thumb brushed across your cheek gently. âYou do not need a mask like all other humans.â Â
Your face soured, twisting in disgust at his referral to you as human. He stuttered, choking on his words, scrambling to correct himself. Â
âNot that you are actually human-just that you live in a human body now-â Â
You choked out a small laugh at his stumbling. Pausing for a moment before another question surfaced in your mind. Â
âWhat about the rest of the clan? And your mother....I cant imagine they will look at me the same.â Â
Neteyam shook his head. Â
âThey will come around.â He assured, bringing your hand up to his lips again to press a kiss to it, âbesides,â he smiled again more brightly, more naturally, âthis is Eywas path for you. Who are they to question her will?â Â
You nodded quietly, letting yourself sit with his words for a moment. Â
You brought your hand up in front of your face again, pulling it out of his warm grasp to examine it once more. This time you looked at it thoughtfully. Â
âItâll take some getting used to.â You sighed finally, dropping your hand into your lap and meeting his gaze once more.  Â
Neteyam assured you gently with a confident shake of his head. His hand came up to stroke your hair, fingers grazing gently through the strands. Treating you as though you were a delicate piece of fine jewelry. Â
âEverything will be alright.â Â
@cherridile @aonungmybf @aurora-starwarsÂ
This was so bittersweet đ
