.•moonlight•.

“You’re pretty today.”

You looked up from your menu with a bright smile. “Aw, thank you!”

The waiter smiled back. “Pretty enough that I almost forgot your boyfriend was sitting right there.”

You laughed politely. Politely. Rafayel lowered his menu very slowly.

“And what can I get for you, sir?” the waiter asked, straining a smile.

“The strength to endure this conversation,” Rafayel replied flatly.

You almost laughed, but instead nudged him under the table. “Don’t be rude.”

The waiter left a minute later, suspiciously smiley and absolutely shameless.

The second he disappeared, Rafayel leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Silent, and very pouty.

You looked up from your drink, “…Are you mad?”

“No.” His lips were pushed forward so much he genuinely resembled an offended puffer fish.

“Rafayel.” Nothing.

“Raf.” Still nothing.

His cheeks looked slightly puffed out now too, multicoloured eyes narrowed at the window like the entire ocean had personally betrayed him.

Poor Raf was sulking.

You bit back a smile. “You look constipated.”

“I look heartbroken.”

“Is there a difference?”

“A significant one.”

You laughed softly, reaching across the table to poke his cheek. It was firm from how hard he was pouting.

“You look like you belong in the ocean as a puffer fish.” A finger still poking at his cheeks.

He let out an offended gasp, “I do not!”

“You absolutely do.”

“I’m suffering.”

“You’re puffing.”

Rafayel grabbed your wrist dramatically before you could poke him again.

“Cutie,” he said with deep betrayal, “that man was flirting with you in front of me.”

Your brows furrowed. “…No he wasn’t.”

Rafayel stared at you for a long moment before dropping his head onto the table with a muffled groan.

“He literally said he forgot I existed because you were pretty.”

“Oh.” You paused. “I thought he was joking.”

“He was testing the boundaries of my self-restraint.”

You smiled helplessly. “I genuinely didn’t notice.”

“I know,” Rafayel mumbled into the table. “That’s why I can’t even be properly angry.”

That was the problem. If you were entertaining people on purpose, maybe he could’ve acted annoyed.

But you always looked so genuinely confused afterward.

You slid your hand into his purple hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Instantly, Rafayel melted a little, making him finally lift his head from the table.

“Now, why are you glaring at the salt shaker?” You tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“It’s representing him.”

You stared at him for two seconds before bursting into laughter loud enough that nearby tables glanced over.

Rafayel looked deeply offended by your reaction.

“You mock my pain.”

“You compared a waiter to table salt.”

“He was a piranha that was seasoned with audacity.”

That only made you laugh harder.

Rafayel watched you for a moment, expression slowly softening despite himself. Honestly, this happened so often that he should’ve been used to it by now.

Someone flirted with you. You failed to notice.

Rafayel puffed up like an emotionally compromised sea creature.

Then you looked at him like he personally changed the tides, and suddenly he forgot how to stay upset.

A tragic cycle…for him at least.

You leaned across the table, smiling sweetly.“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I am not cute, I’m expressing anguish.”

“You look like you’re about to float away.”

Rafayel narrowed his eyes.

Then, with all the dignity of a dramatic marine deity, he leaned forward and stole a quick kiss from you right there in the restaurant.

Just enough to leave you blinking afterward.

“There,” he said smugly, sitting back down. “Now everyone knows you’re taken.”

You touched your face, flustered.

“…That was unnecessary.”

“And yet highly satisfying.”

His pout had completely vanished now.

You squinted at him. “You just wanted attention.”

He shrugged, “Fine, I surrender!” He had a cheeky smile stuck on his face.

Another night that you stood just beyond the marui, feet half-buried in cool sand, eyes fixed on the sky. The bright, round moon stared back and the stars stretched endlessly above you—bright, distant, untouchable.

You wondered if they ever got tired of watching. If they ever noticed the ones who held everything together.

Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, nails pressing into your skin as you tried to keep yourself steady.

It was easier out here. No expectations. No voices calling your name. No one asked something of you.

Because that’s all it ever felt like now.

“Can you help with this?”

“Where’s Tuk?”

“Lo’ak ran off again!”

“Can you—”

“Can you—”

“Can you—”

STOP! You screamed in your head, your eyes squeezed shut. The voices echoing in your head, poking at you no matter how much you hid.

Even before Neteyam died… you had been the one picking up the pieces. Making sure Tuk was fed, making sure Lo’ak didn’t get himself into trouble, and helping Kiri when she got overwhelmed. All because you knew Neteyam already had it hard. Being first in line, all the pressure, you wanted him to relax.

Second oldest.

But it never felt like that. It felt like you were the third parent.

And no one questioned it. No one stopped you. No one said, “Hey, you don’t have to carry all of this.”

They just let you.

And over time…they expected it.

Your laugh faded. Your patience wore thin. Your words got shorter, sharper. The warmth you used to carry slowly turned into something heavier.

Something Tired, something no one ever tried to notice. 

Because now, when you snapped or pulled away, it wasn’t “She’s overwhelmed.” It was;

"She's just being difficult."

"Sis is being mean!"

"You changed."

Your throat tightened. Of course I changed. 

You tilted your head back, staring up at the stars, blinking rapidly.

“You see it, don’t you?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You see everything.” The stars flickered as if it was responding to you.

Your hands dropped to your sides, fingers curling helplessly.

“I do everything I’m supposed to do. I take care of them, I listen, I help—I do everything.” Your breath hitched. “But no one sees me.” The words came out small. Broken.

“They only notice when I mess up.” A tear slipped down your cheek, then another. You wiped at them quickly, but it didn’t matter.

“I miss when it was different,” you whispered, your knees feeling weak. “When he—”

Your voice broke completely, collapsing into the sand. “When Dad actually… looked at me.” Silence swallowed your words.

The memory hit harder than you expected—

Jake laughing with you. Teaching you. Calling you “kid” and “babygirl”  in that softer voice he didn’t use anymore.

Back when you didn’t feel like a responsibility. Back when you felt like his daughter.

A sob escaped you before you could stop it. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” you admitted to the sky. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

Your shoulders shook, the weight of everything finally spilling over.

“I miss you Neteyam, I’m so tired.”

——•⏾•——

When the sun rose the next day, the responsibilities came back. 

“Lo’ak don’t go off on your ilu alone.” You warned, a stern tone matched with a tired face.

Lo’ak barely paused, one foot already in the water, hands gripping his ilu’s reins. “Bro! I’ll be fine,” he shot back, that careless tone.

“No, Lo’ak—” But he was already gone.

The ilu surged forward, slicing through the water as he disappeared into the horizon. You stood there for a moment, jaw tightening.

Of course.

You exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down your face before turning back toward the marui.

“Tuk, eat,” you called, your voice firm but lacking the energy it used to carry.

“I don’t want to,” Tuk whined, poking at the food with a frown, her hair rustling as she shook her head.

You crouched beside her, softer now despite the exhaustion pulling at you. “You need to. Come on.”

Kiri glanced up briefly from where she sat, watching you with that quiet, knowing look—but she didn’t say anything. She never did.

You stayed there until Tuk finally took a few bites, nodding in approval before standing again.

Another task done. Another thing checked off. Another piece of yourself chipped away.

——•⏾•——

“Where’s Lo’ak?”

The voice came from behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“He went out,” you answered shortly.

Jake stepped closer, his presence heavy even without him saying anything else. “Alone?”

You nodded once. Then there was a pause.

“You let him go out alone?” The words hit sharper than they should have.

Your shoulders stiffened. “I told him not to,” you said, turning to face him now. “He didn’t listen.”

Jake’s expression hardened slightly. “Then you should’ve stopped him.”

Something in you snapped.

“I’m not his father,” you said, your voice tighter than intended.

Jake frowned. “You’re his older sister. You’re supposed to—”

“—what?” you cut him off, a bitter edge slipping through. “Make every decision for him? Control everything he does? Fix every mistake before it happens?”

Jake’s brows pulled together. “Watch your tone.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” I stood my ground, if I was old enough to have to take care of my siblings and all the responsibilities, then I could stand against my dad.

Jake’s jaw tightened at that, his voice dropping. “You don’t speak to me like that.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Oh, now you care how I speak?” you shot back, arms crossing tightly over your chest. “Not when I’m running around doing everything else, though, right?”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is it about?” your voice rose despite yourself. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I messed up again.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” you snapped. The words hung there, heavy and sharp.

Jake stepped closer, his presence pressing in. “You’re acting out.”

Your expression hardened and your ears pressed into your skull. “Acting out?” you repeated, quieter now—but that only made it worse. “Is that what you think this is?” Your eyes squinted in pain from what he thought.

“You’ve been off for a while now,” he said. “Short-tempered. Disrespectful. This isn’t you.”

Your hands clenched at your sides.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you said, your voice trembling despite how hard you tried to steady it. “You don’t even know me anymore.”

Jake’s expression faltered, just slightly, but you caught it.

“I know my daughter,” he said, firmer now, like he was trying to regain control of the conversation.

“Do you?” you challenged. “Because it sure feels like the opposite. You only ever talk to me when I’ve done something wrong. Or when you need me to do something.”

“That’s not true…” His resolve was flattering. Because the more he thought about it the more it felt true.

“It is, I know it is, you don’t have to say it is for me to know” I put a hand out and created distance between us. 

For a moment, it looked like he was actually thinking, actually listening. But of course he was stubborn.

“You’re overreacting,” he said.

And just like that something inside you broke. You stared at him, like you didn’t quite recognize the person standing in front of you. “Overreacting,” you repeated, barely above a whisper.

Jake sighed, rubbing his temple. “I’m just saying, you’re blowing this out of proportion. It’s one situation—”

“It’s not one situation!” your voice cracked loudly now, emotion spilling over before you could stop it. “It’s everything!”

The force of it startled even you.

“I’ve been doing this for years,” you continued, tears burning in your eyes now. “Taking care of them, fixing things, sacrificing things I enjoy doing just to make sure everything doesn’t fall apart! And—and you don’t even notice!” You slapped a hand over your heart, your beaded top digging into the flesh of your hands and your chest.

Jake’s expression shifted, but you didn’t stop.

“I try so hard,” you said, your voice shaking, tears now streaming down your face. “And the one time something slips, it’s suddenly my fault?”

“I never said it was your fault.”

“You didn’t have to!” you shouted. “You always look at me like it is!”

Silence crashed down between you. Your breathing was uneven now, your chest rising and falling too fast.

Jake opened his mouth, like he was about to say something—something that might’ve mattered. But you were already stepping away, ready to run away, afraid that his next words will hurt too much.

“Kid—”

“No!” you cut him off, your voice breaking. “I’m tired of this. I’m tired of trying to explain something you don’t even want to understand!”

“That’s not—”

“It is!” you insisted, tears finally spilling over. “You don’t listen. You never listen until it gets this bad.” You took quicker steps until you started running.

Jake’s face tightened. His ears flattening and his hand reaching out to nothing.

“That’s not what I was gonna say…” He finished the sentence you cut off, quietly, making sure only himself could hear it.

As you ran your chest ached, eyes blurred, and thoughts all crammed together.

A part of you wished he would follow.

——•⏾•——

When you reached the family marui, you hoped it would be empty. 

But of course, it wasn’t. Neytiri and Kiri stood inside, their head turning when they heard footsteps

Your steps faltered for half a second—but you forced them forward anyway.

Neytiri’s ears twitched at the sound of your uneven breathing, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in your tear-streaked face.

“Ma’ite—what happened?” she asked, already moving toward you. 

Kiri followed a step behind, her voice softer but just as concerned. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head immediately. “Nothing,” you said too quickly, brushing past them.

Neytiri caught your wrist before you could fully pass. Not harsh—just enough to stop you.

“Do not lie to me,” she said, her tone firm but laced with worry. “You are hurting.”

Your chest tightened. “I said it’s nothing,” you repeated, more strained this time, pulling your arm back.

Kiri stepped closer now, studying your face. “Did you fight with Dad?”

Silence. That was enough to answer.

“Sis…” Kiri started, trying to reach out for you.

“I’m fine, Kiri.” You insisted, even though it was obvious that you weren’t. “I just…I need air,” you paused. “Please”

Neytiri’s gaze softened, but she didn’t move to block you this time. “Be safe, my child.” She placed a hand on your head before letting you off.

——•⏾•——

The shoreline welcomed you with open silence.

The waves rolled in slow, steady rhythms, the moonlight stretching across the water like a path you couldn’t follow.

You walked until the marui was out of sight.

Until the voices faded. Until it was just you and the sky.

Your knees gave out before you even realized it, the sand cool beneath you as you dropped down, arms wrapping around yourself like you were trying to hold the pieces together.

For a while, you said nothing. Just listened to the ocean.

You tried to steady your breathing. Tried to stop the ache in your chest from spilling over again.

It didn’t work, It never did.

Your head tilted back slowly, eyes finding the moon again. Bright, unmoving, just watching.

A shaky breath left you. “…You’re still there, right?” you whispered.

Your voice sounded small against the open air. “The stars… the moon… you see everything.”

Your fingers dug into your arms again.

“Then you saw that,” you murmured, your throat tightening. “You heard it.”

Your voice cracked slightly. “I tried,” you said quietly. “I really did.”

A tear slipped down your temple into your hair.

“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do,” you admitted, staring up at the sky like it might answer you this time. “No matter what I say, it’s wrong. No matter what I do, it’s not enough.”

Your breathing hitched. “I don’t think he even hears me.”

The words hung there, too much emotion. “…I miss when he did.”

Silence answered you. Only the waves, only the wind, only the distant shimmer of stars that couldn’t reach you.

Your shoulders shook as you curled in on yourself slightly. “I’m so tired,” you whispered again.

Time passed. You didn’t know how much.

The moon shifted slightly higher, the tide inching closer to your feet. The world kept moving, even while you felt stuck in the same place.

And then—Footsteps.

Not very loud at first, but it got closer. You stiffened, wiping at your face quickly, trying to pull yourself back together before—

“Hey, kid.” Jake…and that nickname you missed so much.

You didn’t turn around. You didn’t dare move.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The distance between you felt heavier than before. His footsteps stopped a few paces behind you.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said.

You let out a quiet, humorless breath. “You found me.”

Another long pause. “I heard what you said,” he admitted, his steps slowed to stand next to your form.

Your chest tightened. “Of course you did,” you muttered.

“That’s not—” he stopped himself, exhaling slowly. “That’s not why I’m here.”

You hugged your knees tighter, staring straight ahead at the water. “Then why are you here?” you asked, your voice tired more than anything else.

Jake didn’t answer right away.

You could hear him shift slightly in the sand behind you, like he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to get.

“I messed that up,” he said finally.

You swallowed. “That’s… not new,” you replied quietly.

He nodded, even though you couldn’t see it.

“I know,” he said.

That caught you off guard.

Silence stretched again.

“I shouldn’t have said you were overreacting,” he continued. “That was—” he shook his head slightly. “That was me not wanting to admit you were right.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around your arms.

You still didn’t turn.

“I didn’t hear you,” he said. “Not really. Not until it got to that point.”

A bitter edge crept into your voice. “Yeah. That’s kind of the problem—”

“—I know,” he repeated. “I heard what you said about carrying everything,” he added, quieter now. “About being tired.”

Your breath caught slightly.

“I didn’t realize how much I was putting on you,” he said. “Or how long it’s been like that.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears as you stared at the reflection of the moon in the water. “It’s been a while,” you murmured.

Jake took a careful step closer, close enough to touch but far enough to give you enough space to pull away.

“You shouldn’t have had to handle all of that,” he said. “That’s my job. Not yours.”

Your throat tightened. “But someone had to,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said. “And you stepped up. I’m proud of you…” He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “But that doesn’t mean I should’ve let you keep carrying it alone.”

Your eyes burned again, tears wet your lashes. You finally turned your head—just slightly—enough to glance at him over your shoulder.

His expression was different now, he wasn’t frustrated, angry, or disappointed. His face showed his regret.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he added. “About you acting out.”

You looked away again quickly before he could see the tears that dripped down your cheeks.

“It didn’t sound like that,” you muttered.

“I know…and—and I’m sorry.” he tried to get a look at his daughter's face.

The honesty in that made your chest ache and for a moment, neither of you spoke again.

The waves filled the silence.

“…You really talk to the sky?” he asked.

You huffed quietly, embarrassed despite everything. “Yeah. Stupid, right?”

“No,” he said immediately.

You blinked.

“It’s not,” he added. “Guess it means you needed someone to listen, and I wasn’t there for you.”

That hit harder than anything else he’d said. Your shoulders dropped slightly.

“…Yeah,” you admitted, the slight crack in your voice made Jake’s heart break.

“I’m so sorry, my sweet girl.” He fell onto his knees in the cool sand and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. His embrace was calming, warm, like a father.

All you did was nod through tears and hold onto him.

This might not be forgiveness but it was a step forward.

——•⏾•——

a/n: i will be making neteyam requests asap if u request him 🥹

The reef felt colder than usual.

You sat at the edge of the marui, staring out at the endless stretch of water. The waves moved the same, the wind sounded the same—but everything else had changed.

The weight of losing your older brother greatly affected everyone.

Ever since Neteyam died nothing had been the same. Nothing felt right, everything you did felt wrong.

Jake especially made this clear.

He knew what he was doing.

He hadn’t said it. Not once. Not directly.

But it was the looks he gave you. The way his eyes passed over you now, lingering on everyone else just a second longer. In the way his voice softened for your siblings but turned short, clipped, distant when it came to you.

You hated it.

You felt small under your fathers gaze. It was unfair. You didn’t want Neteyam to get shot, you didn’t want him to be targeted by the RDA. It simply happened, and Jake—your very own father—decided the blood would rest on your hands.

It was like he didn’t know what to do with you anymore. Like every time he looked at you, he saw what he lost.

His firstborn.

The one everyone thought was better.

You were just a shadow of what he was, even if you were as flawless as him, you were always at a disadvantage. No matter how good your skills were, no matter how much you trained, you were always known as ‘Neteyam's sister’ , never by name.

It was unfair, it really was. He never once treated Kiri and Tuk the way he treated you. He even treated Lo’ak better. Not to compare but it was unfair. Kiri and Tuk got those sweet nicknames, ‘Babygirl’ and ‘Sweetheart’. Those haven’t been used for you in years.

After your first hunt, after your talent was evident, he trained you to the bone. Your childhood was practically stripped away from you, but you found it as more time to spend with your dad. The name Babygirl suddenly stopped being used when you officially became able to hunt. Yet those nicknames had no expiration date for Kiri.

You were still his daughter too. And now you're here spiraling.

Alone.

——•⏾•——

Tears spilled from your golden eyes. The ones that used to hold so much happiness, the ones that used to be filled with positivity now feel dull.

You pulled your knees closer to your chest, nails digging into your arms as your thoughts swarmed.

You should’ve done more.

You should’ve been there.

You killed your own brother.

“I didn’t,” you whispered to the ocean, to Neteyam—who you hoped was listening from Eywa’s memories. “I’m trying so hard…I promise”

But it never felt like it mattered.

No matter how hard you try, it wouldn’t bring him back.

Your chest tightened painfully, breath coming in uneven waves. You felt stuck—like no matter where you went, the feeling followed. Heavy. Suffocating.

You didn’t know how to make it stop.

So you stood up and ran, ran to where the water met the sand. A hand reached to the band of your loincloth, the sharp, curved knife that rested there. You wrapped your fingers around the hilt, slowly pulling it from its place.

Your eyes remained close, silent sobs escaped your mouth as you brought the hook of the knife to your neck. Gently pressing the cool metal to your neck, yet not enough pressure to cut.

It hurt too much.

——•⏾•——

Jake sat in the marui, sharpening his own knife while he talked to his mate who saw what was happening in real time.

“Ma’Jake,” she said sharply, her tail flicking with agitation, “do not think that I do not see it.”

Jake didn’t dare to look up. “See what?”

Her ears pinned slightly at his dismissive tone. “The way you look at her.”

That made his hand pause.

Neytiri stepped closer, her voice lowering but losing none of its intensity. “Your silence. Your distance. This… coldness you carry only for her.”

Jake exhaled, setting the knife down harder than necessary. “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” Neytiri challenged, her eyes showing how desperately she wanted Jake to see his mistakes. “Because our daughter is breaking in front of us.”

That made him look up.

For the first time, something uncertain flickered in his eyes.

“She’s strong,” he said, quieter now. “She can handle it.”

Neytiri’s expression hardened. “Strength does not mean she does not feel pain.”

Jake clenched his jaw. His eyes slowly digging from Neytiri to the gloomy night,

“You think I do not know grief?” Neytiri continued, her voice trembling now—not with anger, but with something deeper. “I lost a son too.”

Jake eventually started to drain out her voice as he zoned out, his gaze on the ocean outside and the bioluminescent coral that faintly showed in the waters.

But then his gaze caught something that made his instincts flare.

His ears perked up, and when he squinted his eyes, he shot up.

It was you, his daughter with what seems to be a knife pressed against your throat.

His hands turned clammy and he rushed out of the marui, leaving a confused Neytiri.

He ran fast. His heart in his throat.

“Hey!” Jake’s voice cut through the night, sharp, panicked. “Hey—stop!”

You flinched. The knife in your hand faltered, lowering just slightly, but you didn’t turn around.

“Don’t come closer!” you warned, your voice shaking despite your attempt to sound firm.

Jake slowed, but only by a fraction. His hands lifted, open, careful—like approaching something fragile that might shatter at any second.

“Alright,” he said quickly, breathing unevenly. “Okay…I won’t. Just… just talk to me, kid.”

You let out a broken laugh, the sound hollow. “Now you want to talk?”

That hit harder than any blade.

Jake swallowed, forcing himself to stay steady. “I should’ve talked to you before. That’s on me. I know that.”

Silence stretched between you, filled only by the sound of the ocean.

Your grip on the knife tightened again.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said, your voice cracking. “I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to be… what you want me to be.”

Jake’s chest tightened painfully. “I don’t want you to be anyone else.”

“That’s not true!” you snapped, finally turning to face him. Tears streaked your face, eyes burning. “You look at me like I’m the reason he’s gone!”

“I never—”

“You don’t have to say it!” your voice broke. “It’s in the way you look at me! Like I'm not enough, like I was the cause, like I forever disappointed you!”

Jake froze. He heard it. And he saw it too.

All the pain he’d been pretending wasn’t there.

Your hand trembled, the knife wavering again.

“I’m so tired,” you whispered. “I try so hard, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing I do matters to you anymore. Sometimes I think you forget I'm your daughter too.”

“That’s not true,” Jake said, his voice rough, stepping forward despite your earlier warning.

You didn’t stop him this time.

“You matter,” he continued, more firmly now. “More than anything. You’re my daughter, always and forever.”

Your expression twisted, like you didn’t believe a word.

Jake reached you slowly, carefully.

“Give me the knife,” he said quietly.

You hesitated.

For a moment, it looked like you might refuse. But then your grip loosened.

The blade slipped from your hand, landing softly in the sand.

Jake exhaled shakily, relief hitting him all at once. He kicked it further away without taking his eyes off you.

And then—He reached for you.

But you reacted instantly.

Your hands shoved against his chest.

“Don’t!” you choked out, hitting him again, your strength uneven but desperate. “Don’t just fix it now…don’t act like it didn’t happen!”

Jake didn’t stop you. Didn’t step back.

He let you push, let you hit, even when it stung. ‘Cause he knew this wasn’t anger.

This was everything you’d been holding in.

“I know,” he said softly. “I know, Babygirl, I messed up.”

Your eyes widened at that nickname, but you refused to give in. And so you hit him again, weaker this time. “You left me! You were still here, but you left me! You always treated me differently, why didn’t I get your soft side. Is it because I'm older? Because I'm stronger?”

That broke something in him. His ears pressed against his skull and his eyes showed the pain he felt for you.

“No—I’m sorry,” Jake said, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, Babygirl. I didn’t even realize how bad it got—I just… I lost him, and I shut down.”

Your hands slowed.

“I never blamed you,” he added quickly, more urgent now. “Not once. That was never on you. You hear me? Never.”

Your arms dropped.

The fight drained out of you all at once.

And then you broke.

A sob tore through your chest as your knees gave out, but Jake caught you before you could fall.

He pulled you into him, holding you tight—firm, grounding, not letting go.

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” you cried. “I thought I wasn’t enough—”

“Hey, no,” Jake said immediately, tightening his hold. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever think that.”

His voice dropped, thick with emotion.

“You’re my daughter,” he said. “I need you. Just as you are. Not him—not anyone else. You.”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, one hand cradling the back of your head as you cried into his chest. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

“I’m so sorry, girl” He repeated—hoping maybe it would help, even just a little.

“Is it too much to ask to be treated fairly? Is it too much to ask to be loved?” Your voice was small, barely over a whisper.

“No—Babygirl, I’m so sorry.” He felt his own eyes fog up as he pressed a kiss to your head. “I See You, I see you now, okay? So talk to me, please, I can’t lose you too.”

All you did was nod, you were too tired to give a response.

Behind him, Neytiri had stopped a few paces away, her hand pressed to her mouth as she watched.

And when she saw you two hugging she let out a sigh of relief, followed with a smile and tears rolling down her cheeks.

Maybe everything is gonna be ok.

——•⏾•——

a/n: ugh kinda teared up, i could make a part 2 only if u guys want! but idk what to put so yall will have to tell me