#jake sully

By the time you reached the Sully family’s marui, your human legs already ached from the effort of keeping your balance on the suspended walkways. They swayed rhythmically with every footfall, forcing you to use every muscle in your ankles just to stay upright. Growing up in the high canopy of High Camp, you were used to solid, unyielding branches and high-altitude trails, but these woven bridges felt alive, flexing under your boots with the shift of the tide.

Lo’ak walked casually beside you the entire way, his eyes darting toward you every time you wobbled, ready to grab your arm before you could tumble into the lagoon.

Stepping off the mesh and onto the firm floor of the marui pod, you unslung your heavy travel packs and placed them near the woven wall. As you straightened up, a tall, graceful figure stepped out from the shadows of the pod.

Neytiri’s expression softened into a radiant smile the moment her golden eyes landed on you.

“My niece,” she breathed softly.

You crossed the small space instantly, wrapping your human arms around her waist. Neytiri pulled you close, her slender blue arms wrapping around you securely, one large hand gently cupping the back of your head to draw you against her ribcage. The familiar scent of forest herbs and mountain smoke clung to her skin, washing over you with a profound sense of safety.

“It has been far too long,” she murmured into your hair.

“It has,” you agreed softly, squeezing her tight.

She pulled back just enough to look you over, her thumb gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Her eyes swept over your small, five-fingered hands and human frame with deep, familiar affection. “You have grown, ma ’ite.”

“So have they,” you laughed, nodding toward the rest of the kids.

Lo’ak scoffed, leaning casually against a support beam. “I’ve always been this handsome.”

Spider barked out a laugh from the corner. “You’ve always been something.”

Neteyam shook his head with a tired, amused sigh while Tuk immediately scurried over, abandoning whatever she was doing to climb right onto your lap the moment you sat down on the woven mats.

“You have to sleep beside me tonight,” Tuk declared matter-of-factly, poking your cheek. “It’s a rule.”

You smiled, tucking a braided bead behind her pointed ear. “I don’t think I have much of a choice, do I?”

“Nope.”

Around you, the quiet, unique rhythm of your home settled back into place. To anyone else in the Omatikaya, your family arrangement was unusual a shared hearth where Tsu’tey, Jake, and Neytiri lived under one roof, raising two broods of children as one single, chaotic pack. But to you, it was simply home. Tsu’tey was your biological father, yet Jake’s steady, paternal guidance and Neytiri’s fierce maternal care had shaped you just as much.

Across the marui, Jake and Tsu’tey sat side-by-side, their long legs crossed as they spoke in low, serious tones about the recent battles. Every so often, snippets of their conversation drifted over:

“ the tulkun slaughter ” “ the boys are healing, but the demon ship still hunts ” “ the Metkayina are grieving ”

You watched the two men. Where Jake moved with an easy, military authority, Tsu’tey sat like carved stone, his eyes never straying far from where you sat with the kids. They operated seamlessly together Jake handling the war-talk while Tsu’tey kept an ever-vigilant eye on the household.

Not wanting to dwell on the heavy mood, you carefully untangled yourself from Tuk, unpacked your belongings, and folded them neatly near the sleeping area before stepping over to help Neytiri prepare the evening meal.

“You do not have to work, child,” Neytiri reminded you gently, watching as your small hands deftly began sorting fruit and ocean-roots.

“I know, Aunt Neytiri.”

“Then why are you working?”

You offered her a sheepish smile. “It keeps my mind off things.”

Neytiri’s golden eyes softened with profound understanding a look she often gave Jake when he was restless. Without another word, she handed you a woven basket of dried fish.

The rest of the evening passed in a warm, familiar blur. Everyone gathered around the low wooden table, sharing food and trading stories. Jake filled Tsu’tey in on their transition to reef life, while Lo’ak dramatically embellished a story about a skimwing chase only to be relentlessly called out by Spider. Neteyam kept the peace, Kiri chimed in with quiet, sarcastic jabs at her brothers, and Tuk spent ten full minutes insisting she had wrestled a giant crab that morning.

You sat between your dad and Neteyam, smiling as the chaos swirled around you. It felt safe. It felt like home.

“So,” Lo’ak said between mouthfuls of roasted fish, leaning across the table to look at you. “Tomorrow we’re introducing you to our friends.”

Spider grinned knowingly from across the circle. “Good luck.”

You blinked, pausing with a piece of fruit halfway to your mouth. “ Why do I need luck?”

Neteyam rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “They’re well ”

“They’re interesting,” Lo’ak cut in smoothly.

Kiri snorted into her bowl. “Tsi’ ”

Lo’ak immediately delivered a sharp elbow to her ribs before she could finish the name. “What she means,” he said, giving his sister a warning glare, “is that you’ll really like Tsireya.”

“And the others?” you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“ You’ll see tomorrow.”

Tsu’tey glanced over at the exchange, his brow furrowing slightly, but Jake simply clapped a hand on Tsu’tey’s shoulder with a grin, muttering something about letting the kids handle their own business.

Later that night, the family settled into the sleeping area together, piling onto the large woven mats just as you always had up in High Camp. You found yourself tucked snugly between Kiri and Tuk, with Spider, Neteyam, and Lo’ak sprawling out just a few feet away. Near the entrance of the pod, Tsu’tey, Jake, and Neytiri lay in a protective line, guarding the rest of the hearth.

Tuk curled tightly against your side, wrapping her small blue arm around your waist and burying her face into your shoulder. “I missed this,” she mumbled sleepily into your shirt.

“I missed it too, Tuk-tuk,” you whispered, resting your chin on her head.

Within minutes, the heavy, rhythmic breathing of your family filled the marui. The gentle swaying of the pod, combined with the distant, muffled crashing of waves against the mangrove stilts, lulled you into a deep quiet. For the first time since leaving the mountains you slept without waking.

The first pale rays of dawn filtered through the woven walls, casting warm golden stripes across your face. You blinked awake, shifting slightly.

The sleeping pile was pure chaos. Tuk had somehow migrated in her sleep and was currently resting her legs directly over Neteyam’s chest. Spider had pulled almost the entirety of Lo’ak’s woven blanket over himself, leaving Lo’ak curled into a miserable, annoyed ball. Kiri was fast asleep, utterly peaceful amid the mess.

Suppressing a laugh, you carefully slipped out from under Tuk, gathered your hair into a neat braid, and stepped outside into the cool morning air.

The village of Awa’atlu was just beginning to stir. Fishermen were checking their nets down by the water, and children were splashing near the shallows. Seeing a communal cook fire nearby left unattended, you hesitated for only a second before gathering some supplies and getting to work.

You prepped a simple morning meal: fresh fruit, thinly sliced roasted fish, seaweed, and a few edible roots Neytiri had shown you how to prepare the night before.

By the time you were arranging the food on fresh leaves, movement rustled inside the marui. Jake emerged first, ducking his large frame out of the pod entrance while letting out a massive yawn and stretching his arms. He froze mid-stretch, his golden eyes locking onto you and the spread of food.

“ Did you make breakfast?” Jake asked, blinking in surprise.

“I did,” you answered, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious.

“Kid, how long have you been awake?”

You shrugged lightly. “Not long. I just wanted to help out.”

One by one, the rest of the household began to filter outside. Tuk’s nose twitched first, her eyes snapping open. “Food!”

Spider groaned as he dragged himself into the sunlight. “I swear that’s the only word she knows.”

“It is not!” Tuk huffed, snatching a piece of fruit.

Neytiri stepped out beside Jake, her eyes sweeping over the neatly arranged meal. A soft, deeply fond expression crossed her face as she looked at you. “You have your father’s heart, ma ’ite.”

You paused, looking up in confusion. “ I do?”

Neytiri nodded, casting a warm glance back toward the pod. “Tsu’tey does not speak his love in grand words. He shows it through his hands by feeding his people, by building, by guarding. You do the exact same thing.”

Before you could digest that, Tsu’tey stepped out into the morning air. His golden eyes swept over the platform, locking onto you instantly. For a brief, unguarded second, something profoundly soft and fiercely proud flickered across his harsh features.

He walked over, his massive frame towering over your human height, and rested a heavy, warm hand on the back of your head, gently resting his thumb against your cheek.

“You have been busy, ma yawntutsyìp,” he said quietly.

“I wanted everyone to wake up to a hot meal,” you said, leaning slightly into his touch.

“You do not need to care for everyone before you care for yourself,” he reprimanded gently, though there was no edge to his voice.

“I know, sempu.”

“Yet you always will.” Tsu’tey shook his head, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “Just like your father.”

Jake chuckled from the side, grabbing a portion of roasted fish. “Can’t argue with that, brother.”

After breakfast, as the adults lingered to discuss the day's duties with Tonowari, Jake turned toward the kids.

“Alright, listen up,” Jake said, his tone shifting into his familiar ‘leader’ voice. He pointed at Lo’ak, Neteyam, and Kiri. “Your sister is going to be here for a while. She needs to learn reef life, and she needs to learn it fast.”

Kiri smiled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “We were already planning on teaching her.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Lo’ak. “Take her down to the shoreline. Introduce her to your friends.”

“Even Ao’nung?” Lo’ak muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Jake gave him a sharp, warning look. “Especially Ao’nung. I want no trouble today, Lo’ak. Do you hear me?”

Lo’ak sighed dramatically, slumping his shoulders. “Yeah, yeah. Got it. This should be great.”

You looked between Lo’ak and Neteyam, your human instincts warning you that you were walking straight into a trap. “What is wrong with Ao’nung?”

“You’ll see,” Neteyam said quietly, offering you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Following your cousins through the village, you stepped off the woven walkways and onto the blinding white sand of the beach. Near the water's edge, three young Metkayina were waiting.

Your stomach instantly twisted into a tight knot.

One of them was the boy who had hissed at you on the beach yesterday.

Tsireya noticed your group first. Her beautiful face lit up with a genuine, welcoming smile, and she waved excitedly, taking a step forward. Beside her stood Rotxo, who offered you a friendly, curious grin.

Ao’nung, however, did not move. He stood with his thick arms crossed over his broad chest, his sea-green eyes locked onto your small human frame. Watching. Judging. Waiting.