#awow

Knotty (18+) MDNI

│Aged-up Neteyam x Female Metkayina Reader

Pairings: Neteyam x fem omatikaya! Reader

Summary: Raised as part of the Sully family, she grows up close to Kiri, but as she gets older, her dynamic with Neteyam subtly changes. Neither of them says anything, yet the shift is felt… noticed, mutual, and quietly lingering.

Warnings: slow burn, mentions of loss, sensual undertones, tension between characters, mild manipulation, mutual pining,.. lmk if i missed anything.

Notes: i was a bit reluctant on writing this because i know people were a bit weirded out by the spider and kiri situation during afaa but it was already drafted up so.. reader refers to Neytiri and Jake as ‘Ma’ey’ and ‘Pa’ey’ those names give the emotional weight of mom and dad without being literal parental titles.

Word count: 3.0K

part 2

Your mother and Neytiri had been best friends, much like how you and Kiri are now… always laughing, sharing, and looking out for each other.

But your mom was gone, caught in the fires when the humans evaded Pandora.

You remember the cold ache in your chest, the emptiness that settled in when you realized she wasn’t coming back.

Neytiri had been there, always by your mother’s side, and now… now she was all you had left.

• pairing: neteyam x reader

• warnings: injury

• summary: Neteyam realizing he’s in love with you after you get injured during training and he completely loses his composure for the first time in front of everyone.

The humidity of the Omatikaya rainforest clings to your skin. High above, the canopy filters the sunlight into jagged shards of gold and emerald, casting dancing shadows across the already full training grounds. Neteyam stands with his spine in a rigid line, his bow gripped in a hand that never trembles. He is the golden son, the blueprint of a warrior, the one who never miss a mark and never lets a slip of emotion breach his composure.

Beside him, you move with a fluidity that always make his chest tighten. You aren't as disciplined as he is, but you possess a raw, instinctive grace that mirrors the jungle itself. You catch him staring and flash a grin, your golden eyes shimmering with mischief.

"Still trying to figure out how I keep landing hits on you, Neteyam?"

Neteyam shifts his gaze forward, though the ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. "You rely on luck and chaos. It works until it doesn't."

"Chaos is just a strategy you haven't mastered yet," you counter, stepping closer. The scent of crushed ferns and rain follows you. "Admit it. You're bored of being perfect. You want to see what happens when you let go."

"I am not bored," he replies, with steady voice. "I am focused."

"Focused on what? The way my body moves when I'm about to strike?"

Neteyam finally looks at you, his expression neutral despite the drumming of his heart. "Your tail is a giveaway. You're telegraphing every move."

You laugh, a bright, melodic sound that echoes through the trees. "Then stop watching my tail and start seeing me."

The training session intensifies. Around you, other young warriors spar, the air filling with the rhythmic thud of wooden staffs and the sharp cries of exertion. Kiri watches from the sidelines, her head tilted, a somewhat intriguing expression painting her face.

"Again!" Jake barked.

You move. Neteyam blocks your strike, the wooden staffs clashing with a sharp crack. He steps back, circling you, his mind calculating your trajectory. He likes this—the dance of combat, the way your breaths synchronized in the heat. But more than the fight, he likes the way you challenge the walls he have built around himself.

"You're thinking too much," you whisper, your voice a low vibration. "Stop being a soldier for one second. Just be you."

"I am me," Neteyam grunts, sweeping your leg.

You tumble, rolling across the mossy earth and springing back up in one seamless motion. You are breathless, a stray lock of hair clinging to your damp forehead.

"Is that all the mighty warrior has?" you tease, though your chest heaves.

"I'm just warming up."

"Prove it."

You charge again, but this time, the environment betrays you. As you pivot for a high strike, your foot catches on a slick, protruding root, hidden beneath a layer of decaying leaves. The balance you usually maintain vanishes in a heartbeat. Your momentum carries you forward, not in a controlled strike, but in a desperate, uncontrolled fall.

Neteyam reaches out, his hand closing on air.

The sound that follows is sickening. A sharp, wet thud. You don't scream but a stifled gasp still escapes you. You simply collapse, your arm twisted at an unnatural angle as you slamed into a jagged outcrop of rock. A deep gash opened along your forearm, the crimson blood stark and jarring against your striking blue skin. You are losing a lot of blood.

For a second, the world went silent. The other warriors stopped. Jake froze.

Neteyam feels something inside him snap. The discipline, the composure, the carefully maintained mask of the perfect son, it all shattered like glass.

"Y/N!"

He doesn't walk; he launches himself toward you, his knees hitting the dirt with a force that bruise. He doesn't care. He doesn't see the crowd gathering. He doesn't see his father, Jake, approaching with a look of concern. All he sees is the blood and the way your eyes are clouded with shock.

"Don't move. Don't you dare move," Neteyam chokes out. His voice, usually a pillar of strength, was now a frayed wire.

You try to shift, a small moan escapes your lips. "I'm... I'm okay. It's just a—"

"Shut up! Just stay still!" he snaps, his voice cracking.

The crowd gasps. Neteyam has never raised his voice in anger, and he has certainly never lost his temper during a training exercise. He is trembling, so hard, that the shakes are evident on his entire frame.

He rips a strip of cloth from his own waist, his movements frantic, almost clumsy, and presses the fabric against your wound, his fingers slick with your blood.

"Neteyam, go get the healers and let them handle it," Jake says, reaching out to touch his son's shoulder.

Neteyam flinches away from his father's touch, his eyes wide and wild. "Get back! Just go get the healers! Now!"

Jake recoils, stunned. He has seen his son face down multiple predators and the terrors of war, but he has never seen him look this terrified. This isn't the fear of a soldier; it is the raw panic of a man watching his entire world bleed out on the forest floor.

"I've got you," Neteyam whispers, his forehead dropping to touch yours. He is sobbing now, the sounds jagged and guttural. "I've got you, Y/N. Please. Please be okay. Please."

You look up at him, your breath coming in shallow hitches. You have always seen Neteyam as the untouchable prince, the boy who carries the weight of the world without a grimace. Seeing him broken, seeing the tears streaming down his face and the desperation in his eyes, sends a different kind of shock through you.

"Neteyam," you whisper, your voice also trembling. "You're... you're crying."

"I can't lose you," he gasps, pressing the bandage harder against your arm. "I can't. I didn't tell you. I didn't tell you yet."

"Tell me what?"

He doesn't answer. He can't. He just clings to you, his large hand cradling the back of your head, shielding you from the eyes of the village. He is shaking so hard that you could feel it through your own skin.

Kiri arrives with the healers shortly after, gently pushing Neteyam aside to treat the wound. For the first time in his life, Neteyam doesn't argue. He doesn't lead. He simply stands by, his chest heaving, his hands stained red, watching every movement of the healers with an intensity that bordered on obsession. He loks like a man who had just survived a shipwreck, clinging to the only piece of driftwood left in the ocean.

Hours later, the sun has dipped below the horizon, leaving the forest bathing in a ghostly, bioluminescent glow. The plants pulse with soft purples and neon blues, mirroring the heartbeat of the world. You lie on a woven mat in the healing hut, your arm bound in clean linens and treated with pungent herbs.

The curtain flutters and Neteyam steps inside. He looks exhausted. The rigidity is gone, replaced by a heavy, lingering sadness. He doesn't say anything at first; he just sits beside you, his eyes scanning your face as if checking to ensure you haven't vanished.

"You scared everyone, you know," he says softly.

You smile weakly. "I think you scared them more. I've never seen you yell at your dad."

Neteyam looks away, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. "I lost my head."

"You didn't just lose your head, Neteyam. You fell apart. Don't ask me how but it was actually kinda attractive."

He lets out a short, breathless laugh, finally meeting your eyes. The humor fades quickly, replaced by a solemnity that made the air between you feel thick.

"I thought you were gone," he whispers. "I know it was just a fall, just a cut, but for a second... the world went dark. I realized that if you weren't in it, there was no point in being perfect. There was no point in any of it."

You reach out with your good hand, your fingers brushing against his cheek. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because I don't know how to do it," he admitts, leaning into your touch. "My life is a list of expectations. Be a leader. Be a warrior. Be the example. I don't know how to love you."

"Maybe just stop following the plan," you suggest.

Neteyam closes his eyes, a single tear escaping. "I don't want to be a blueprint for my dad anymore. I just want to be yours. After today I'm never leaving your side."

You pull him closer, guiding his head down to your shoulder. He collapses against you, the weight of his hidden emotions finally finding a place to land. He breathes in the scent of the healing herbs and your skin, his grip tightening possessively.

"You're an idiot," you murmur, kissing the top of his head.

"I know," he whispers back.

"A very dramatic idiot."

"Probably."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his golden eyes searching yours. The vulnerability is still there, raw and exposed. He doesn't hide it this time. He doesn't mask the longing or the fear. He leans in, his movements slow and tentative, giving you every chance to pull away.

When your lips finally meet, it isn't the polished, perfect kiss of a prince. It is desperate and messy, tasting of longing. Neteyam groans into your mouth, a sound of pure relief, as if he was finally breathing after being underwater for years. His tongue sweeps against yours, claiming you with a hunger that spoke of months of suppressed desire.

You wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him flush against you. The friction of your bodies, the heat radiating between you, ignited a spark that have been simmering since you were children. Neteyam’s hand slids down your back, his fingers digging into your skin, grounding himself in the reality of your presence.

"I love you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a rough, honest rasp. "I love you so much it terrifies me."

"Good," you whisper, pulling him back for another kiss. "It terrifies me too."

Neteyam smiles, a real, genuine smile that reaches his eyes. For the first time, he doesn't isn't putting on a performance to please anyone. The golden son has finally cracked, and in the wreckage of his perfection, he has found something far more valuable.

He stays by your side throughout the night, your fingers intertwined, watching the bioluminescent forest pulse in rhythm with your shared breath. The pressure of the clan, the weight of the war, and the expectations of his bloodline still exist, but they feel distant now, small and insignificant, compared to the girl in his arms.

As the first light of dawn filters through the canopy, Neteyam kisses your forehead, his expression one of absolute peace.

"Next time we spar," he whispers, "I'm not letting you get hurt anymore. I promise."

"Oh? And how do you plan to do that?"

PART 1: A MOTHER KNOWS | PART 2: YOU ARE HERE | PART 3: A MOTHER'S TEARS | PART 4: A MOTHER'S GRIEF

Based on this and this request, plus comments from part 1!

Word count: 3.3k

Pairing: Jake Sully x fem!mate!reader

Description: Years after the death of Neytiri, you and Jake raise your family with the expectation of one more on the way.

Content Warnings: Pregnancy, vomiting, grief

Author's note: This is like 90% fluff. Yesss, I have decided there will be a part 3 and it will take place when they kids are teens/in Way of Water. That is the one with the angst, while this one is the reprieve from Part 1.

Na’vi Words used: Angstik - Hammerhead Titanothere, Animal that squares up with Jake in Movie 1 Kelku - home/house Tukru - Spear Sa’nu and Sempu - mommy and daddy Nantang - Viperwolf Parultsyìp - Darling, little loved one Syaksyuk - Prolemuris, animal similar to a monkey Yawnetu - Beloved

“And you are positive?” Jake asked, as he helped you sit up from Mo’at’s examination, his hand at your back to support you. She had been sticking and prodding you for the past half hour, but now that you knew her findings, you were in slight shock.

“I am sure,” she nodded sagely. Jake and you exchanged a wide eyed stare as you both processed the news before he pulled you to his chest in an embrace. He held you close enough that you felt the hitch in his breathing.

The Eldest

Sully family x eldest daughter reader

Chapter List Part One > Part 2

0-3 months

It’s wasn’t too long after the Great War that (y/n) was born, the first child of Jake Sully and Neytiri.

The first time Jake Sully met (y/n) Sully, he was terrified.

Moments earlier, Mo’at had caught and cradled the newborn with practiced care, checking her breathing, murmuring soft words of blessing, brushing a thumb over (y/n)’s tiny brow as if committing her to memory, smiling softly at her granddaughter.

Then with a small nod Mo’at handed her to Neytiri. Mother and Daugher. Skin to skin, breathing each other in. Neytiri had pressed her forehead to (y/n)’s, whispering softly in Na’vi. (y/n)’s cries had already begun to quiet there, soothed by the familiar rhythm of her mother’s heart.

Mo’at gently took Neytiri’s kuru and (y/n) and gently joined them. Tears flowed down Neytiri’s face as she smiled down her little one and peppered kissed all over her face.

She could sense the moment her daughter recongise her, their hearts entwining, latching on to each other, falling into sync. Neytiri had never felt such a bond, had never touched the mind of someone so fragile so new that the only thing the baby in her arms knew was her mother.

It was such an overwhelming, indescribable feeling. Love was a word too small for the feeling.

Neytiri look up at Jake.

He was standing there like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Come,” Neytiri said gently.

Jake swallowed. “I—are you sure?”

Neytiri smiled at him softly. (Y/n) whined a little when her kuru disconnected from her mothers but it was time her daughter knew her father.

Neytiri guided his hands into place.

“Support her head,” she murmured. “She will feel your fear if you shake.”

That didn’t help.

Jake’s hands hovered for a second too long before Neytiri carefully placed (y/n) into them. The moment her weight settled against his chest warm, impossibly light, his breath hitched.

He froze.

Did not move. Did not breathe.

(Y/n) was so small. Her skin still slick, her fists curled tight, her face scrunched in that brand-new way that said I have just arrived and I am not pleased about it. Jake could feel her heartbeat against, fast and fierce.

“Oh,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Oh… hey.”

(Y/n) made a small sound, less a cry, more a complaint, and shifted slightly. One tiny hand caught in his chest piece, fingers clenching.

Jake’s eyes burned instantly.

“I got you,” he said quickly, too quickly. “I got you, I swear. I’m not gonna drop you. I’m not—”

Neytiri’s hand covered his, steady and warm. “Breathe,” she said softly.

Jake obeyed.

Slowly, instinct took over. He adjusted his grip, one hand supporting (y/n)’s head just like Neytiri had shown him, the other firm at her back. The shaking in his arms eased, replaced by something heavier, something terrifying and profound.

Responsibility. It was now his job to keep this little life, his little baby girl, safe, happy and loved.

His baby.

And he loved her so much already and he’s only had her for a few seconds.

She turned her face toward his chest, pressing her cheek there as if she recognized him in some way that made no sense at all.

“I’m your dad,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’m doing yet. But… I’ll figure it out.”

(Y/n) yawned.

Neytiri let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She watched them, this tall, awkward man holding their daughter like she was made of something fragile, and something deep in her chest stir.

“Form Tsaheylu with her,” Mo’at said softly.

“I—” before he could argue Neytiri leaned over and joined their kuru’s.

And in that moment, the moment their minds met, the moment he could feel his daughter recognise him as her father. Jake Sully, soldier, warrior, leader, knew with absolute certainty.

This tiny life in his arms was the most dangerous thing he would ever love, because he could feel it in his heart, there wasn’t anything we wouldn’t do for her.

He would raze armies to the ground just so she would be happy, that’s what the feeling in his chest told him.

He could feel his eyes prick with tears. “Yeah pumpkin, I’m your dad.”

The baby began to whine. “Shhhh,” Jake soothed. “I’m here, Daddy will always be here for you.”

She was adored by her mother, she was told stories, sung too, basically if she even so much at hinted at crying her parents would come running.

She was always kept close by Neytiri, in a sling when hunting, in a basket whilst weaving and held on her chest while sleeping, Neytiri couldn’t bare being far from her for very long.

Neytiri was gentler than anyone had ever seen her. Always checking her skin for any warmth, her steady breathing, her cries, whether her little one was hungry or tired and spoke to her constantly since (y/n) always seemed to focus on the sound of her voice.

And Jake never really got over the hurdle of thinking that his daughter could shatter in his hands if he wasn’t too careful, he would jump at any sound she would make, his heart would jump into his throat every time she cried. He probably wore grooves into the mauri with the amount of walking he did with (y/n) in his arms to help her sleep, whispering to her.

Her parents rarely left her side.

When she slept someone was close by or was holding her close, one of her parents waking as soon as the sound of her steady breathings shifted.

When Mo’at first held her grand-daughter, properly held her, it was only after the parents had already done so.

Mo’at waited.

She took (y/n) with hands that had delivered countless children, hands that knew exactly how much pressure was comfort and how much was too much. (Y/n) was still slick from birth, small and warm and loud, her cry sharp with life.

Mo’at studied her quietly.

Not her size.

Not her strength.

Her presence.

(Y/n)’s cry faded as Mo’at drew her close, one long finger resting against (y/n)’s tiny back. The baby blinked up at her, bright eyes unfocused but searching, and for a brief moment Mo’at felt something settle, like a thread pulled taut and tied.

“She is precious,” Mo’at said simply.

That was all.

She could not wait to see what kind of person her granddaughter would become.

In the weeks that followed, Jake and Neytiri began, reluctantly, to ask Mo’at to watch (y/n) for short stretches.

Just while Neytiri slept.

Just while Jake handled clan matters.

Just for a little while.

Mo’at never refused.

She kept her grand daughter close when she watched her, often seated beneath filtered light, humming low melodies that vibrated through (y/n)’s tiny body. She slept well in Mo’at’s arms, deep, untroubled sleep, one small hand curled around Mo’at’s finger.

When Jake or Neytiri returned, Mo’at would quietly report.

“She slept well.”

“She liked the scent of burning herbs.”

“She listened.”

Jake joked once, “She’s not even talking yet.”

Mo’at only smiled. “That does not mean she is not learning.”

Mo’at did not always witness (y/n)’s firsts. but she heard about of them all.

Her first laugh.

Her first roll.

The first time she grabbed Neytiri’s hair and refused to let go.

How she was slowly begin to cry for one parent more often than the other.

Each was told to Mo’at in fragments, Jake half-laughing, Neytiri quietly proud. Mo’at listened with patience, storing the stories away as carefully as herbs in a pouch.

Sometimes, (y/n) repeated those milestones in Mo’at’s presence.

She rolled clumsily on a mat while Mo’at watched, then froze as if waiting for approval.

Mo’at chuckled softly. “Yes. Like that.”

(Y/n) kicked happily.

3 - 6 months

At 3 months she stopped being a sleepy and fussy baby and became aware of things. She watched everything and somehow became fussier.

If Neytiri moved her eyes followed if she heard her father’s voice a little further away she was used to her eyes would follow it, her brows furrowing as if trying to make sense of the noises and reasons of things,

She still didn’t like being put down for long she made that clear quickly, she cried in a way that didn’t mean she wanted something, she cried in offence as if deeply insulted that her parents had other things to do that didn’t involve holding her.

She was in fact a very cuddly baby.

Neytiri began to quickly recognise that sound and no matter what she was doing, she would rush over to her daughter.

It was what she loved. The steady comfort of her mother, hearing her heart beat and voice. It seemed that (y/n) loved the sling the most, she always seemed to stir if Neytiri stopped walking, it was as if she loved the sway and rhythm combined with Neytiri’s voice.

She would watch her mother’s face intently and reach up to her face or try and grasp at her hair. It made Neytiri melt every time those little hands tried grabbing at her and every single time she would oblige, lowering her face so her baby could grab at her nose, her lips, her hair, chuckling as she did.

Jake was solid and steady. And unexplainable the baby’s favourite person to cuddle with.

She liked being tucked under his chin, her head resting against his shoulder, his larger hands supporting her back completely. Jake talked to her constantly, stories, rambling thoughts, things she didn’t understand but clearly enjoyed hearing.

If Jake stopped talking she’d make it known that she wanted him to continue.

She thrived on attention.

If both parents were nearby but talking to someone else, (y/n) made small sounds, testing the waters. If that didn’t work, she escalated to louder complaints. The moment either parent looked at her, spoke to her, or reached out a hand, she quieted immediately.

Her first laugh caught them off guard.

(Y/n) was just past four months old, nestled against Jake’s chest while he sat cross-legged on the floor of the marui. She was alert, wide-eyed, one hand fisted in his vest, the other resting on his collarbone.

Jake was talking to her, nonsense, really. Half stories, half sounds. He made a low clicking noise with his tongue, then exaggerated it with a funny face.

(Y/n) blinked.

Jake did it again.

Her mouth twitched.

He froze. “Did you see that?” he whispered urgently toward Neytiri, who was nearby weaving.

Neytiri looked up just as Jake leaned closer and made the sound again, longer, sillier, paired with a ridiculous face.

She laughed.

Not a giggle. Not a breathy sound.

A real, bright, startled laugh burst out of her chest, sharp and delighted, like the sound surprised her as much as it surprised everyone else.

The world stopped and the focused on their little world in Jake's hands.

Jake inhaled sharply, eyes wide as a smile crossed his face.

Neytiri dropped what she was holding.

(y/n) laughed again, louder this time, kicking her legs, clearly thrilled by their reaction. She grabbed at Jake, demanding more.

Jake laughed too, half a sob, half disbelief, and immediately repeated the sound and face exaggerating it even further because this feeling was like no other. Nothing beat the sound of this bright, happy, little laugh.

She lost it.

Her laugh rang through the marui, echoing light and joy and something impossibly pure. Neytiri crossed the space in two strides, dropping to her knees beside them, hands flying to cup (y/n)’s cheeks.

“My little one,” she breathed, eyes shining. “You laugh.”

(Y/n) looked between them, pleased, so pleased, and laughed again, as if confirming it.

Neytiri laughed with her, a soft, broken sound full of wonder, pulling (y/n) gently into her arms. Jake kept one hand on (y/n)’s back, as if afraid the moment might vanish if he let go.

“That was it. That was the best sound I’ve ever heard.”

Neytiri pressed a kiss into her hair.

“Yes,” she said softly. “It was.”

Teething

One day she was her usual watchful, content self, happy to be held, babbling softly, gnawing on Jake’s fingers like a harmless little creature.

The next, she was miserable.

She cried more than she ever had before. Not the sharp, offended cry she used when she wanted attention or cuddles, but a low, aching sound that came from deep in her chest.

Her gums were sore, her jaw hurt, and nothing felt right.

She didn’t want to be put down. She didn’t want to be passed around. She wanted her parents, and she wanted them now.

Neytiri noticed the change immediately.

(Y/n) chewed on everything,cloth, fingers, strands of hair, then cried as if betrayed by it, unhappy that she couldn’t stop the ache. Neytiri pressed a gentle finger along (y/n)’s gums and felt the swelling.

“Ah,” she murmured softly. “Your teeth are coming.”

(Y/n) responded by crying louder.

Neytiri gathered her up without hesitation, sitting with her cradled close, humming low and steady. She rubbed cool herbal paste that Mo’at had given her along (y/n)’s gums with care, whispering soothing words the whole time.

She calmed, briefly, then cried again, face scrunching up in frustration.

Neytiri didn’t flinch. She simply rocked her, patient as stone.

Jake was… less prepared.

He tried everything.

Rocking.

Walking.

Talking.

Singing (badly).

(Y/n) cried through all of it, fists clenched in his chest piece, face pressed into his chest like she was furious at the universe.

“I don’t get it,” Jake whispered helplessly. “I’m holding you. This usually works.”

(Y/n) screamed in response.

Neytiri gently took (y/n) back from him.

“She does not need fixing,” Neytiri said calmly. “She needs comfort.”

Jake watched, chastened, as (y/n) immediately settled just a little in Neytiri’s arms, still fussy, still unhappy, but no longer panicking.

“She likes you better,” he muttered.

Neytiri shot him a look. “She hurts.” And to prove a point she passed her to him and she sniffled a bit and still stayed calmed.

Jake kissed the top of her head. His baby was in pain and there was nothing he could do to take it from her.

The nights were the worst.

(Y/n) woke often, crying softly, then loudly, then with heartbreaking desperation. Neytiri barely slept, soothing her again and again, pressing (y/n)’s face against her shoulder.

Jake took over whenever he could, pacing the marui with (y/n) tucked against him while Neytiri rested for a few precious moments.

But something new was discovered in those moments. She loved using her father to chew on.

She drooled constantly. She chewed on Jake’s fingers until he hissed and tried not to pull away too fast.

“Easy, kid,” he murmured. “I need those.”

(y/n) did not care and Jake didn’t care. If she so much as look like she was going to cry again he’d happily sacrifice a finger, his whole hand if that was what it took to help his poor pumpkin.

Teething made (y/n) miserable.

But what it did to Jake was worse.

Jake had faced guns, beasts, war. He knew what to do when something was wrong, how to fight it, how to stop it, how to win. But this?

This was small. Slow. Unfair. Because it was like something a driving a knife into his chest every time she cried in pain or discomfort and there was nothing he could do to help her.

His daughter cried in his arms, face hot against his chest, fingers clutching his chest piece like she was holding on for dear life. Her cries weren’t panicked, they were aching, exhausted, hurt.

Jake tried everything.

He rocked her. He paced. He whispered. He pressed his forehead to hers and begged under his breath.

“Come on, baby girl… please.”

Nothing worked.

(y/n) cried harder, jaw trembling, fists tight, drool soaking his chest. Every sob felt like a failure. Every whimper felt like something he should be able to stop.

But he couldn’t.

And he hated that.

At one point, Jake sank down onto the woven mat, still holding (y/n) , his shoulders slumping.

“I don’t know how to help you,” he whispered hoarsely, voice breaking just a little. “I’d take it for you if I could. I swear.”

She cried on, oblivious to his words but not his presence. She pressed her face harder into his chest, seeking comfort even as the pain continued.

That was the worst part.

She trusted him completely.

And he couldn’t make it better.

When Neytiri took (y/n) from him, Jake didn’t argue, he watched.

Neytiri didn’t rush. She didn’t panic. She sat down, pulled (y/n) close, hummed softly, applied cool herbs. She still cried, but less sharply, clinging to her mother as the world narrowed to heartbeat and warmth.

Jake watched from the side, jaw clenched.

“You make it look easy,” he said quietly.

Neytiri didn’t look up. “It is not easy,” she replied. “It is patience and the herbs help.”

That hit harder than anything.

Some nights, Neytiri slept sitting up with (y/n) against her chest, unwilling to put her down. When Neytiri finally needed rest, Jake took over, walking the marui in endless slow circles.

(Y/n) cried herself hoarse against him.

Jake let her soak his chest with tears and drool and misery. He didn’t care. He held her tighter, murmuring nonsense, keeping his voice low and steady because it was the only thing he could give her.

At some point, she’d go quiet, not better, just exhausted, and Jake would freeze, barely breathing, terrified of waking her.

He stayed awake long after.

One night, as (y/n) whimpered softly in her sleep, Jake brushed a finger along her cheek.

She stirred, eyes fluttering open just long enough to look at him.

Not confused. Not scared. Comforted by the sight of her dad.

She sighed and settled again, pressing closer to his chest.

Jake swallowed hard.

That was when it hit him and it felt like his heart was being torn out of his chest,

He couldn’t always protect her from pain.

He couldn’t fix everything.

But he could be there.

And sometimes, that had to be enough. He hoped it would be enough.

(Y/n) first smiled at Mo’at happened soon after she turned 4 months old.

Mo’at was holding her while Neytiri rested nearby, the marui quiet and warm. (Y/n) was awake but calm, eyes drifting lazily across the room. Mo’at spoke to her softly, not in baby-talk, but in a low, steady voice.

“You are growing,” Mo’at said. “I can already tell you will be quite the handful as you get older. But you will be strong, curious, smart.”

(Y/n) turned her head.

She focused on Mo’at’s face. Her brow furrowed, mouth serious, as if she were were in deep thought.

"Oh, and what is on your mind little one?"

Then…

Her face broke open.

A wide, sudden smile, bright and unmistakable, spread across (y/n)’s face, her eyes lighting up as she looked directly at Mo’at.

Mo’at stilled.

She had seen (y/n) smile before. Everyone had. But this was for her.

Mo’at’s breath caught just slightly. She did not laugh. She did not speak.

She smiled back.

“Looks like you will grow to be happy as well, with a shining personality with a smile like that,” Mo’at murmured.

(Y/n) made a pleased little giggle and smiled again, clearly delighted by the reaction.

"Yes such a beautiful smile."

Mo’at looked up the moment Neytiri entered, (y/n) red-faced and whimpering in her arms.

“Her teeth,” Mo’at said calmly, even before Neytiri spoke, she had seen this among many babes, including her own. “They are coming.”

Neytiri let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “She cries so much. I hold her and she still hurts, I need your help mother.”

Mo’at stepped closer and held out her arms. Neytiri hesitated only a heartbeat before passing (y/n) to her. (Y/n) protested at first, one indignant cry, until Mo’at settled her securely, one steady hand warm against her back.

Mo’at worked with practiced care.

She prepared a small amount of cooling herbal paste, gentle, and dipped her finger into it. With slow movements, she rubbed it lightly along (y/n)’s swollen gums. (Y/n) startled, then paused, jaw working uncertainly.

The crying softened into a low, unhappy sound.

Mo’at hummed under her breath, a melody that vibrated softly through (y/n)’s small body. (Y/n) leaned into it without realizing, chewing clumsily at Mo’at’s finger instead of crying.

“There,” Mo’at said quietly. “It will ache for a time. but this paste should help”

Mo’at showed Neytiri how to make the paste herself, how often to use it, how to tell when the pain was worst.

When Mo’at returned (y/n) to her, (y/n) pressed immediately into Neytiri’s chest, still fussy but calmer now. Neytiri resumed rocking her, fingers stroking through her hair.

“I hate that she hurts,” Neytiri said softly.

Mo’at’s voice was gentle but sure. “All mothers do.”

(Y/n) sighed, exhausted, her cries fading into uneven breaths. Neytiri kissed her forehead, holding her close as sleep finally claimed her.

6-9 months

By six months,(y/n) could sit on her own, wobbling but determined. She hated being laid flat now. The moment Neytiri tried, (y/n) would grunt and twist, clearly offended by the loss of autonomy.

Jake learned quickly to sit on the floor with her, long legs stretched out, (y/n) planted between them like a little sentry. She’d grip his fingers with shocking strength and try to pull herself forward, brows furrowed in concentration.

“She already looks like she’s planning to cause trouble,” Jake muttered.

Neytiri smiled. “She is your daughter.”

He shot her a look.

(y/n) loved attention at this stage, being talked to, sung to, admired. If either parent tried to step away for too long, she’d voice her displeasure immediately, a sharp, indignant noise that brought them right back.

Not much changed.

Crawling came late and messy.

(Y/n) didn’t glide smoothly like other babies. Instead, she dragged herself clumsily, one knee tucked, one leg flailing, palms slapping the ground.

Jake laughed every time. Neytiri corrected him every time.

“Do not laugh. She is trying.”

But when (y/n) finally reached Neytiri’s ankle and grabbed it like a victory prize, Neytiri scooped her up instantly, pride shining in her eyes.

(Y/n) beamed, absolutely convinced she had conquered the world.

Standing came before crawling properly.

(Y/n) would haul herself upright using anything, Jake’s leg, Neytiri’s kuru or tail, the edge of anything she could reach. The first time she let go on her own, Jake nearly had a heart attack.

“Hey—hey—hey—!” he reached out instinctively.

(Y/n) wobbled… then dropped on her bottom, shocked but unharmed. For a moment she looked betrayed by the universe, then burst into laughter.

That laugh ruined both of her parents.

Jake melted on the spot. Neytiri picked her up pressed her forehead to (y/n)’s, laughing softly with her.

9-12 months

She had opinions. Her own thoughts about what she liked and disliked became more obvious and more known. She liked being held, on her terms. If Jake picked her up, she leaned into his chest, fingers tangled in his chest piece . If Neytiri held her, (Y/n) pressed her face into her mother’s neck, calm and content.

She learned cause and effect quickly, drop something, watch it fall, stare expectantly.

Jake always picked it up and she would clap as if she had discovered some great game.

She would pull things from baskets, from shelves, from anything she could reach. Pulling apart leaves, feathers, whatever she had gotten into.

And every single time her father would clean up the mess and then scoop her up blowing into her belly and she would laugh, bright and mischievous.

The baby had discovered a pattern.

Neytiri noticed.

Neytiri disapproved.

"Oh, come on baby, she's just a baby what harm does it do, I clean it up," Jake said. His daughter in his arms, squirming trying to pull at his hair giggling.

"She may be just a baby, but she still must learn," Neytiri sighed. Watching her daughter wriggle in her fathers arms.

Jake held the baby in front of him, "you hear your mother pumpkin, no more making messes, no more causing mischief."

She laughed, grabbing his nose, Jake laughed with her and he pressed a kiss into her little cheek. "I can't be mad at you."

Neytiri sighed deeply.

(Y/n) learned how to charm. A single smile could undo discipline instantly. Jake was hopeless. Neytiri was… slightly better.

(Y/n)’s first steps weren’t planned.

(Y/n) woke from her nap warm and groggy, cheek still pressed into the soft woven mat. For a long moment she lay there blinking, listening to the familiar sounds of the marui, quiet voices, the soft rasp of Neytiri’s hands working fiber, Jake murmuring about something.

They hadn't realized she was awake. But she wanted her parents and she wanted them now.

She pushed herself onto her stomach with a small grunt.

No one noticed.

(Y/n) frowned, offended by this lack of attention. She planted her palms, rocked once, then twice, and dragged herself toward the edge of the mat. The floor felt cool under her hands. She paused, swayed, then reached up and grabbed the edge of a low basket.

Slowly, very slowly, she pulled herself upright.

Her legs wobbled. Her tail flicked hard for balance. She froze, eyes wide, testing this new feeling of being up.

Across the marui, Jake sat with his back half-turned, talking quietly to Neytiri. Neytiri nodded as she worked, unaware.

(Y/n) let go.

One step.

Then another.

Her foot slapped softly against the ground. She tilted forward, arms instinctively out, brows furrowed in fierce concentration.

Jake caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

He turned halfway. “Neyt—”

And then he saw her.

(Y/n) was walking.

She took another step, then another, wobbling but upright, moving straight toward, babbling with arms stretched out and little hands grabbing at air.

Neytiri looked up at the sudden silence in Jake’s voice and followed his gaze.

Her breath caught.

(Y/n) reached them and bumped gently into Neytiri’s legs, hands grabbing for balance. She looked up, triumphant, as if to say see?

For a heartbeat, neither parent moved.

Then Neytiri dropped what she was doing, hands flying to (Y/n)’s sides, lifting her as if afraid the moment might break. Her eyes shone.

“She walks,” she whispered, voice thick. "You walked my heart."

Jake laughed, one sharp, disbelieving sound, and then he was there too, hands cupping (Y/n)’s back, forehead resting against hers.

“Hey,” he breathed, half-laughing, half-choked. “Hey, baby girl…”

(Y/n) squealed, delighted by the sudden attention, completely unaware she’d just changed everything.

She kicked her feet, pleased with herself.

Jake wiped his eyes quickly and pretended no one saw.

Neytiri kissed (Y/n)’s temple and held her close.

And for the rest of the day, neither of them could stop watching the place where she’d stood up all on her own.

Jake swore it wasn’t a competition.

Neytiri also swore it wasn’t a competition.

It absolutely was.

They both knew (Y/n) was at the age where words were supposed to start forming. She babbled constantly, sounds that almost meant something, little strings of noise that made them both lean in every time like fools.

So, without ever saying it out loud, they started trying to coax their daughter.

Jake always waited until Neytiri stepped away.

The moment she was gone, gathering water, speaking with Mo’at, fletching arrows, Jake scooped (Y/n) up and settled her against his chest.

“Okay,” he whispered conspiratorially, as if (Y/n) were in on it. “Just you and me.”

(Y/n) stared up at him, wide-eyed, fingers clutching his chest piece.

Jake pointed to himself, slow and careful. “Da… da.”

He exaggerated the movement of his mouth. “Da-da. See? Easy.”

(Y/n) blinked. Then she grabbed his chin and shoved it sideways with surprising force.

Jake laughed. “Hey—no cheating.”

“Da-da,” he tried again, hopeful.

(Y/n) responded by blowing spit bubbles and laughing.

Jake sighed. “Alright. Still counts as progress.”

Neytiri had her own methods.

When Jake was gone, she cradled (Y/n) close, swaying gently. Her voice stayed low and soft, steady as a heartbeat.

“Ma,” she murmured.

“Ma… ma.”

(Y/n) body relaxed immediately against her, tiny hands curling into Neytiri’s chest. Neytiri repeated it patiently, never pushing, never rushing.

(Y/n) watched her mouth. Studied it.

Sometimes she tried to copy the shape, tongue clumsy, sound falling apart before it became anything real.

Neytiri never showed disappointment. She only smiled and kissed her hair.

Days passed like this.

Jake got increasingly dramatic about it.

“She definitely almost said it today,” he insisted one evening.

Neytiri raised an eyebrow. “What did she say?”

“…a sound.”

“That is not a word.”

“She meant it.”

Then one quiet afternoon, Neytiri sat weaving with (y/n) in her lap. The marui was calm, light filtering softly through the leaves. (Y/n) fidgeted, tugging gently at the beads around Neytiri’s neck.

Neytiri didn’t stop her as she played with the beads. She just worked, humming under her breath.

(Y/n) tilted her head back, studying her mother’s face.

Her mouth opened. “Ma-ma.” The sound was clear. Undeniable.

Neytiri froze. Her hands stilled. Her breath caught like the world had just stopped turning.

“Ma-ma,” (y/n) repeated, proud of herself.

Jake, halfway across the marui, snapped his head up. “Did—did she—?”

Neytiri looked at him slowly, eyes shining. “She did.”

Jake stared at (Y/n), stunned. For a split second, something pinched in his chest.

Then (y/n) reached for him, babbling happily, clearly expecting to be picked up.

Jake gathered her into his arms without hesitation, pressing his forehead to hers.

“You little traitor ,” he said softly, smiling despite himself.

(Y/n) grabbed his nose.

Jake laughed. “Yeah, okay. I deserved that.”

Neytiri watched them, heart full, knowing the truth of it.

It wasn’t about winning.

She looked back over to her mother, pointing, "Mama."

Jake peppered kisses all over her face, "Yeah that's your Mama... now how about saying Dada."

"Mama."

Jake finally got his moment not too long after

Jake came home tired.

It had been one of those days, the kind that sat heavy in his shoulders, the kind where being Olo’eyktan felt less like leadership and more like carrying the weight of the whole forest on his back. His bow was still slung over his shoulder when he ducked into the marui, already exhaling like he could finally set the world down for a moment.

He didn’t notice the small movement at first.

Neytiri glanced up, a soft smile tugging at her mouth, but she said nothing.

Jake took another step inside.

Then something wrapped around his leg.

He startled, looking down.

(Y/n) stood there, tiny hands clutching his calf like he might disappear if she let go. She wobbled on unsteady feet, tail flicking hard for balance, and tilted her head all the way back to look up at him.

Her face lit up. “Da-da.”

The word landed like a spear straight through his chest.

Jake froze. “…what?” he breathed, barely daring to believe it.

(Y/n) grinned wider, let go of his leg just long enough to make grabby hands at him, opening and closing her fists urgently.

“Da-da,” she said again, louder this time.

Jake’s bow slid off his shoulder and hit the ground unnoticed as he dropped to his knees in front of her.

“Hey,” he said, voice breaking despite himself. “Hey—did you hear that?”

Neytiri laughed softly behind him, eyes bright. “She has been waiting for you.”

Jake scooped (Y/n) up instantly, lifting her like she weighed nothing at all. (Y/n) squealed, delighted, and immediately grabbed his face with both hands, fingers pressing into his cheeks as if she needed to make sure he was real.

“Da-da,” she repeated, right in his face.

Jake laughed, the sound sharp and wet all at once. He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes squeezing shut.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, baby girl. I’m here.” Dada is here.

(Y/n) patted his cheeks, fascinated, then said it again, sloppier this time, but unmistakable. “Dada.”

Jake pulled her into his chest, holding her tight, one big hand cradling the back of her head like he was afraid the moment might vanish if he loosened his grip.

Neytiri watched them, heart full, saying nothing.

Jake kissed (Y/n)'s hair, then her temple, then her cheek, laughing softly every time she repeated the word like it was the greatest victory of her life.

And for the first time that day, the weight on his shoulders disappeared completely.

Nothing mattered except the small voice and small person against his chest, saying his name like it was the greatest thing she knew.

(Y/n) had discovered a dangerous new truth:

She could walk wherever she wanted.

Her steps were still a little wobbly, knees locking too straight, tail flicking wildly for balance, but she knew how to move now. One foot. Then the other. Hands out like she was holding onto invisible air.

While Jake and Neytiri were inside the marui, quietly arguing over whether (Y/n) had eaten enough and whether she needed another nap, their daughter toddled straight toward the entrance.

Sunlight spilled in.

(Y/n) paused, blinking at it like it was a personal invitation.

She took one step outside.

Then another.

The forest hummed softly around her, leaves whispering, insects clicking, distant calls echoing through the trees. (Y/n) made a delighted little sound under her breath and kept going, completely unaware that she was about to give two seasoned warriors a collective heart attack.

Inside the marui, Neytiri turned.

“Jake,” she said slowly. “Where is our daughter?”

Jake looked down.

Then around.

Then at the empty space where (y/n) should have been sitting, chewing on a strip of woven fiber and trying to eat it.

“…hey,” he said, already rising. “(Y/n)? Pumpkin?”

Neytiri was on her feet instantly.

“(Y/n)!” she called, sharp and panicked now.

Outside, (y/n) stopped walking when a shadow fell over her.

She looked up.

Mo’at stood there, arms folded, gaze piercing, but the moment she saw who it was, her expression softened.

“Well,” Mo’at said dryly. “And where do you think you are going, little one?”

(Y/n) blinked. Then smiled. She held her arms up without hesitation, a clear pick me up gesture, tail swishing proudly like she’d just completed an important mission.

Mo’at sighed, but there was affection in it as she bent down and lifted her granddaughter into her arms.

“You walk now,” she murmured. “So you believe the world belongs to you.”

(Y/n) laughed, a breathy, delighted giggle, and patted Mo’at’s chest as if this was all part of the plan.

Mo'at tapped her nose, "you are young, ignorant of dangers little one, you must be more cautious."

Mo’at turned back toward the marui just as Jake and Neytiri burst out.

Jake froze when he saw them.

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, running a hand over his head.

Neytiri was already crossing the distance, reaching out instinctively. “Mother she—”

“She wandered,” Mo’at said calmly, adjusting (y/n) on her hip. “You have to be careful, her curiosity is growing.”

(Y/n) chose that moment to wave at her parents like she’d simply gone on a short walk and was now being escorted home.

Neytiri scooped her out of Mo’at’s arms the second she was close enough, pressing (Y/n) tight against her chest, hands trembling despite herself.

“You do not do that,” Neytiri hissed softly into (Y/n)’s hair, voice shaking with relief. “You do not leave without us.”

(Y/n) blinked up at her mother, completely unbothered, and patted her collarbone.

“Mama,” she giggled.

That was it Neytiri couldn’t be upset with her.

Neytiri closed her eyes and held her tighter.

Jake let out a weak laugh, stepping closer and brushing his thumb over (Y/n) foot as if to confirm she was real. “She almost gave us a heart attack,” he said.

Mo’at raised a brow. “Get used to it.”

(Y/n) rested her head against Neytiri’s shoulder, perfectly content now that she was back where she belonged, utterly unaware that she’d just aged her parents about ten years in under a minute.

🖇️ char. Neteyam x Omaticayan! Fem! Reader

🖇️ warn. None, but Neteyam’s a little mean :(

🎥 Neteyam makes you cry during a fight, and instantly regrets it. That’s it. That’s the whole story.

A/N He comes off a little manipulative in this but TRUST he’s not

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

FIGHTS WITH NETEYAM were rare. They barely happened. Since the day you had met him, you a were convinced that you were joined together by Eywa. Truly, you believed that in your soul.

He understood what you were thinking without you having to voice it, and there were strange moments where you would have whole conversations just through the eyes. It was like your hearts were synced to one another’s.

And because of this, fights were rare. But still, there were days when mild annoyance turned into anger, and anger turned into words that were said with the intent to harm.

Today was one of those days.

Neteyam had already been having a bad day. Ao’nung had been spewing subtle mean comments towards him and his siblings, he had gotten thrown off his Ilu three times now, and Loak had gotten himself into trouble again, which meant that Neteyam would also get a lecture from Jake as well.

His body was buzzing with irritation, tail accidentally knocking things over in the hut. You had followed after him, knowing that your duty as his mate was to stay by his side at times of hardship.

Neteyam was crouched down, elbows on his knees and head hanging low. You frowned, your heart squeezing and wishing you could take this irritation and make it disappear for him.

“Ma Neteyam.” You softly sighed, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder from behind. You hadn’t expected him to abruptly get up, turning and looking at your with eyes of fury. “What, (Name)? What? What now?” He huffed, the wounds of the words of his father still fresh.

You felt as if you had stepped on a land mine, standing still as you looked at him with wide eyes. Your ears were flat against your head, surprised at his anger, at first. But that surprise quickly morphed into annoyance. He was not about to direct his anger towards you.

“I’ve heard it a hundred times. ‘You should listen to your father more’, ‘Lo’ak is just not mature yet’.” He mocked, causing your brows to furrow. “I was just trying to help, Neteyam.” You huffed, frowning. He scoffed, tail flinging wildly.

“And how were you going to do that? Tell me. Go on.” His arms were crossed across his chest, and he shifted his weight onto one leg. You opened your mouth, but the words were stuck onto your tongue like honey. Your mind was in a maze, not sure what he was so mad at anymore.

Was he mad at you? For what?

“Tell me!” He repeated, raising his voice this time. A small gasp left your mouth. He had never yelled at you before. The anger and annoyance that was frying inside of you disappeared and hurt filled that new void.

“You always take my father’s side, and always defend my brother! You don’t even care about how I feel!” His breaths were rough and heavy, obviously distressed. But still, his words were like knives. ‘That’s not true’, you wanted to say, but your words were stuck in your throat in the form of a lump.

“Ma Netey-”

“I don’t want to hear it!” He cut you off, and you found your eyes watering. He was… he was just mad and frustrated. He didn’t mean these things. Deep down, in your heart, you knew that. And still, your mind didn’t know it. The words were oddly confronting, like a chisel that was breaking away the rock around your insecurities that you had buried inside.

You could see the words on the tip of his tongue, and you prayed to Eywa that he wouldn’t say it. Even if he didn’t mean it, you didn’t want him to say it. But Neteyam’s mind was clouded with rage and deep frustration, that the words he hadn’t meant slipped out.

“You are not fit to be my mate.”

The words were like the edges of shattered glass pricking your skin, your chest hurting from the pain of the words. You stepped back, as if it had physically hurt you. A sob had left your mouth, and a hand flew up to cover it.

It was then that the cloud of red finally faded. The sob was like a slap to his face, and he hadn’t realized what he said until it was too late. Your cheeks were wet, and you couldn’t stand looking at him.

You covered your face with both hands, muffling your sobs into your palms.

Neteyam’s shoulders lowered, and his mouth parted open, like he couldn’t believe he had said what he had said. “No, I- I did not mean that.” He breathed slowly, but when you hadn’t moved, when you hadn’t stopped crying, he felt more desperate.

“I’m sorry. Oh, Ma (Name), I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.” He stepped forward, immediately cradling your face in his hands. Your hands lowered to his wrists, to try to pull them away, but when his thumbs started swiping at your tears, you couldn’t find the strength to push him away.

You damned your heart for being so in love with him, for needing his comfort despite the fact that he was the one who made you this way. “I see you, Ma (Name). And- And I will spend the rest of my life proving that you are more than worthy to be my mate.” He huffed, and you could hear the desperation in his voice.

“I don’t deserve you, and Eywa knows that. Please, forgive me, (Name). I did not mean it. I was just- I was just mad and frustrated and- And it does not make it okay but please know I did not- I would never-” He rambled, stumbling over his words.

Your crying had calmed down, only occasional sniffles and stray tears falling, but your eyes were still closed, finding comfort in the darkness.

“Please, look at me.” He begged, whispering the words like a prayer to Eywa. Your eyes fluttered open, hesitating to look into his eyes, but when you finally met them, you could see that the words hurt him more than they hurt you.

He hated himself for saying it, and you could feel it in the way he held your face like it was the most delicate flower. You could see it, in the way his eyes searched your expression for any hint of what you might’ve been thinking.

His shoulders relaxed in just the slightest when your eyes met his. He placed a soft kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek, and then finally, pressed a deep, loving one to your lips. It was soft and held meaning.

When he pulled away, he placed his forehead on yours, an intimate and deep gesture of an apology, one that was rare and not often done unless you were begging for forgiveness, not only from the person you were apologizing to, but from Eywa herself.

“Neteyam.” You finally spoke, voice hoarse and quiet. Your hands took his that were on yours face, bring them down and holding them. “You better keep your word. About spending the rest of your life proving that what you said- That it was a lie.” Your eyes averted to the side, just thinking about the words clenching your heart.

There was a silent sigh of relief from your mate, hands holding yours tightly as if you would slip away if he didn’t. “I promise, Ma (Name). I see you.” He whispered the last part, closing his eyes and placing his forehead against yours once more.