#neytem

Story: Story: Aonung were already in a bad mood, you come to talk to him, and you two end up fighting and A word slipped from his tongue that made you not stop talking to him, but to leave, to your clan (also you slap him in front of his parents) — then he came to you (omatokaya clan to earm you back) — part 3

[ part1 — part2 - part4]

Important note: i didn't like how part 3 went so like pretend you didn't read it, this is part 3,believe me this one is better and it has neytiri and jake sully in it

The moment he stepped into the Omatikaya territory, the forest seemed to notice him.

Not just the creatures hidden in the leaves.

Not just the wind shifting through branches.

The people.

They gathered slowly at first, then all at once—warriors, hunters, children peeking from behind legs. Their eyes moved over him openly, curiously, cautiously.

Ao’nung stood still in the center of it all.

Different.

Too broad. Too sharp in the way he carried himself. His braids marked by shells, his posture shaped by the sea, not the trees. Even the way he breathed felt louder here.

A few whispered.

“He’s Metkayina.”

“What is he doing here?”

“Why is he alone?”

Ao’nung didn’t react.

He let them look.

Because he knew he deserved every second of it.

—

A familiar pair pushed through the crowd not long after.

Lo'ak came first, brows already furrowed, eyes narrowed with something between disbelief and irritation.

Right behind him, calmer but just as alert, was Neteyam.

They stopped a few steps away.

Recognition hit instantly.

Ao’nung straightened slightly, then lifted his hand slowly, fingers shaping the familiar gesture.

“I see you.”

Silence.

Lo’ak didn’t move.

Neteyam didn’t return it either.

They just stood there, watching him—measuring him.

Lo’ak tilted his head slightly. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Neteyam’s voice was quieter, but firmer. “Why are you here?”

Ao’nung lowered his hand.

“I came alone.”

“That wasn’t the question,” Lo’ak shot back.

Ao’nung didn’t answer right away.

Because the truth didn’t feel like something he could just say in front of everyone.

—

The crowd shifted again.

This time, it wasn’t curiosity.

It was respect.

The Omatikaya stepped aside as two figures moved forward through the opening.

Neytiri came first, eyes already locked onto him, sharp and unwelcoming. Her body was tense, her steps quick, protective instinct written into every movement.

Behind her, steady and controlled, was Jake Sully.

The air changed the moment they arrived.

Neytiri didn’t stop walking until she was close enough.

Her lips pulled back slightly.

A hiss cut through the silence.

Ao’nung didn’t move.

Didn’t look away.

Didn’t defend himself.

Jake stepped forward just enough, his arm lifting across Neytiri’s path—not forcefully, but enough to hold her back.

His eyes never left Ao’nung.

“You’ve got nerve coming here,” Jake said flatly.

The words landed heavy.

Ao’nung swallowed once, then nodded.

“I know.”

That answer didn’t soften anything.

Jake took another step closer.

“You walk into my home,” he continued, voice low but edged, “after what happened… after the way she came back—”

His jaw tightened.

“—and you expect what?”

“I don’t expect anything,” Ao’nung said quietly.

That made Jake pause for half a second.

Then his expression hardened again.

“Good,” he said. “Because you’re not getting it.”

Neytiri’s voice cut in, sharp and unfiltered.

“You bring pain to my daughter, and you stand here as if you belong?”

Ao’nung’s chest rose slowly with his breath.

“I don’t belong here,” he said. “I know that too.”

Lo’ak let out a dry scoff behind them. “At least he’s aware.”

Neteyam stayed silent, watching carefully.

Jake’s gaze narrowed.

“Then say it,” he demanded. “Why are you here?”

The entire clearing seemed to hold its breath.

Ao’nung looked past them for just a moment—not searching, not expecting—but as if grounding himself before speaking.

Then he answered.

“I came to face what I did.”

Neytiri’s eyes flashed. “You think that is enough?”

“No,” he said immediately.

Jake crossed his arms slightly. “Then what is?”

Ao’nung’s voice didn’t rise.

Didn’t waver.

“I came to stay.”

That stirred the crowd instantly—murmurs breaking out, confusion, disbelief.

Lo’ak stepped forward. “Stay? Here?”

“Yes.”

Neteyam finally spoke again. “You understand what that means?”

Ao’nung nodded. “It means I don’t get treated like a guest.”

Jake studied him carefully.

“And if I say no?”

Ao’nung met his gaze fully.

“Then I leave,” he said. “But I had to try first.”

Silence stretched long and heavy.

Neytiri looked ready to refuse immediately—but Jake didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he stepped closer.

Close enough that Ao’nung could feel the weight of his presence fully now.

“You hurt her,” Jake said quietly.

“I did.”

“You let her walk away.”

Ao’nung’s jaw tightened slightly.

“Yes.”

Jake’s voice dropped further.

“And now you come into my forest… asking to stay.”

“I’m not asking for comfort,” Ao’nung replied. “Or forgiveness.”

“Then what are you asking for?”

Ao’nung hesitated for the first time.

Then spoke the truth anyway.

“A chance to become someone who deserves to stand in front of her again.”

The words settled into the silence like something solid.

Jake held his gaze for a long moment.

Then finally—

He stepped back.

“You don’t get special treatment here,” he said.

“I don’t want it.”

“You work,” Jake continued. “You follow orders. You earn every step you take.”

Ao’nung nodded once. “Understood.”

Jake’s expression didn’t soften.

But he didn’t send him away either.

Neytiri glanced at him sharply. “You would let him stay?”

Jake didn’t look at her.

“Not for him,” he said quietly. “For her.”

Ao’nung didn’t speak again.

Because for the first time since he arrived—

He had been allowed to remain.

_____

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Sorry this one is kind of long. 

Raising a toddler brings so much chaos into Max's life. He wouldn't change it for a second.

Part 1, Part2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Toddler:

🪐If you thought baby Miles was energetic, toddler Miles is on another level.

🪐 The little guy is climbing everywhere, hiding in areas not even the scientists knew of, and oh his pranks.

🪐Max had no clue how he learned how to make glitter bombs but dear lord. To this day there are still shiny bits jammed into every crevice.  

🪐 Even on Pandora glitter never dies

🪐 Around this time he was still called Miles but Max began to notice his annoyance.

🪐 Each time someone would call him that, usually to scold him for something, he would wrinkle his nose almost in a disgusted way.

🪐 One day Max questioned him. The two were in their room, Miles was around 3 at the time, and they were getting ready for bed, and when Max said his name the little boy huffed over.

🪐 When he asked the response he got was, “I have a demon name. I don’ want it.”

•what if you were helping around and you step on their tail by accident?

Stepping on Lo’ak’s Tail

You were hauling a woven basket twice your size, muttering about how unfair it was that everyone else seemed stronger than you.

And then —

“OW! Hey!”

The shout was loud, immediate, dramatic.

You nearly dropped the basket.

Behind you, hopping slightly on one foot while his tail whipped defensively, was Lo'ak.

“You stepped on my tail!” he accused, pointing at you as if you had committed betrayal.

“I didn’t see it!” you shot back instantly. “Why is it everywhere?!”

“My tail is not ‘everywhere!’” he protested, indignant. “It was behind me!”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed.

He stared at you, incredulous.

You stared back.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then he rubbed the base of his tail dramatically. “Do you know how sensitive that is?”

“I said I’m sorry!”

He squinted at you suspiciously. “You better be.”

“I am!”

He let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. First supply duty, now attempted tail murder.”

You gasped. “Attempted—?''

He grinned suddenly, unable to keep the teasing act up any longer.

“I’m kidding,” he said, though he was still rubbing the sore spot. “But seriously. Watch it.”

You stepped closer hesitantly. “Is it really bad?”

He tilted his head, pretending to consider. “Hmm. I might need compensation.”

“For what?!”

He shrugged. “Maybe you carry the basket the rest of the way.”

“You were already not carrying it.”

“Exactly.”

You groaned.

He laughed, tail flicking again — more playful now than pained.

“Relax,” he added, softer. “It’s fine. Just… next time? Look down before you step.”

You nodded, still flustered.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice with a teasing glint in his eye. “Or I’ll step on yours.”

And before you could respond, he grabbed the basket — finally helping — still grinning like he’d won something.

Stepping on Jake Sully’s Tail

The village was alive with the soft rhythm of afternoon work — woven baskets being stacked, nets hung to dry, children laughing somewhere near the shoreline. You moved carefully between them, arms full of coiled rope, trying to be useful, trying not to be in anyone’s way.

And then you felt it.

A firm, warm resistance beneath your heel.

There was a sharp intake of breath behind you — not loud, but controlled. Controlled in the way only a warrior could manage.

You froze.

Slowly, you turned.

Jake Sully stood there, tall and steady as ever, his golden eyes locked onto yours. His tail was pinned beneath your foot, the tip twitching involuntarily.

You jumped back instantly. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see— I wasn’t looking—”

His jaw tightened for a brief second, more from instinct than anger. His tail curled slightly toward him, protective, before settling again. He exhaled through his nose.

“You gotta watch where you’re stepping,” he said, voice low but not harsh. “That’s not just decoration.”

You winced. “I know. I know. I swear it was an accident.”

He studied your face, reading the panic there. The tension in his shoulders eased. He rolled one shoulder as if brushing it off.

“Relax,” he added after a moment. “You didn’t break it.”

There was the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth now. He shifted his weight, tail moving carefully behind him.

“But if you stepped any harder,” he continued, raising a brow slightly, “I might’ve reconsidered letting you help with supply duty.”

You let out a shaky laugh, embarrassed. “Noted. I’ll keep my eyes down.”

“Keep your eyes up,” he corrected calmly. “Just be aware of your surroundings.”

And with that steady leader’s composure, he picked up the rope you had nearly dropped and handed it back to you, brushing it off as if nothing had happened — though his tail stayed safely out of reach this time.

Stepping on Neteyam’s Tail

It happened so quickly.

You were adjusting a basket near the marui when you stepped back without thinking — straight onto something warm and very much alive.

There was a sharp hiss of pain behind you.

You spun around, heart jumping.

Neteyam stood there, posture rigid, shoulders squared despite the discomfort flickering across his face. His tail had jerked sharply from beneath your foot.

“Oh no— I didn’t mean to!” you rushed out, stepping forward as if you could somehow undo it. “Are you hurt?”

His ears twitched once — more from surprise than irritation. He inhaled slowly, steadying himself.

“I’m fine,” he said, though his voice was a shade tighter than usual.

You frowned. “You don’t sound fine.”

He gave you a brief look — the kind he gave during training when someone underestimated him. Then, softer, he added, “It just caught me off guard.”

His tail flicked behind him once, betraying lingering sensitivity. He straightened fully, reclaiming his composed warrior stance.

“You should announce yourself when you move behind someone,” he said gently. Not a reprimand — advice.

“I’ll start wearing bells,” you muttered in embarrassment.

That made him almost smile.

“That would not help,” he replied, and there it was — that small warmth breaking through his discipline.

After a moment, he leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. “Just… be careful. Tails are sensitive.”

You nodded quickly. “I’ll remember.”

He stepped aside to give you space this time, tail curling closer to his leg — not from distrust, but from caution. And before walking off, he added quietly:

Title: The One Who Stayed — Neytiri’s Blessing

Story: you are in love with Neyteme but neytiri doesn't like you cause you are a human

__________________________________________

The war had ended, finally. The forest breathed again, and—slowly, stubbornly—so did you.

You remained on Pandora long after the other sky people fled. You stayed because you could not return to a world you no longer believed in. Because you wanted to help rebuild what your people had helped destroy. And, quietly… because of the Na’vi boy who never once treated you like an outsider.

Neyteme.

He was Neytiri's older son , full of fire, endlessly curious, always asking questions he probably shouldn’t. And somewhere between battlefields, healing trees, and rebuilding homes, he began looking at you with an expression you knew too well.

And one day, you caught yourself looking back.

The First Shift

You were helping repair a walkway near the springs when Neyteme approached, tail flicking anxiously.

“Ma sa’nok says you work too hard,” he murmured, offering you a woven basket of berries.

You smiled. “And what do you say?”

He stood there a moment—studying you, weighing something in his heart—before he answered softly

“I say… humans do not usually stay. But you did.”

Your fingers brushed his when you took the basket. He flinched, then leaned ever so slightly toward the warmth.

That was the first moment he let you know he cared.

And the moment Neytiri noticed.

Neytiri’s Disapproval

She approached you two days later—silent as shadow, eyes sharp as a knife.

“Tawtute,” she greeted coldly.

Human.

You set down the net you were mending. “Neytiri.”

Her gaze was steady, unblinking. “My son… looks at you.”

You swallowed. “I know.”

“You are not Na’vi.” Her voice hardened. “You are sky people. You have hurt this world. You have hurt my People.”

“I know,” you whispered, steadying your breath. “I have spent every day trying to fix what was broken.”

Neytiri stepped closer—so close her breath brushed your cheek.

“Intentions are wind,” she hissed. “Actions are the roots that stay.”

“I’m trying to grow roots.”

Before she could answer, Neyteme appeared behind her.

“Sa’nok.”

Mother.

Neytiri turned sharply. “You defend them? A human?”

And Neyteme, to your shock, stood his ground.

“They fought beside us. Bled beside us. And they stayed when all the others ran. They are not like the ones who harmed us.”

Neytiri’s eyes widened—not in anger, but in something more complicated, more maternal… fear.

Proving Yourself

Days passed. Weeks.

You did not chase Neytiri’s approval, but you never hid from it either.

You helped elders repair structures.

You carried wounded ikran back to their roosts.

You sat with Neytiri’s youngest daughter, comforting her after a nightmare.

You offered Neytiri herbs when she struggled with old scars.

Slowly, her gaze softened—not friendly, but curious.

One morning, after watching you teach a youngling how to hold a bow, she finally approached you again.

“Why do you try so hard?” she asked.

You turned to her, surprised by the gentleness in her tone. “Because I want to honor what was lost. And… because I love your son.”

Neytiri inhaled sharply.

“He is Na’vi,” she whispered. “His life is not easy. This world is not gentle. Loving him is not something you can walk away from.”

“I don’t want to walk away,” you said quietly. “Not from him. Not from this clan. Not from you.”

She looked at you a long, long moment.

Then she sighed.

“Follow me.”

The Training

Neytiri led you to the forest—deep, green, sacred.

“If you are to stay with him… you must learn.”

You nodded.

She moved behind you, correcting your posture with firm, sure hands.

“Not like that. Straighten your spine. Feel the bow… do not fight it.”

Hours of training.

Blisters.

Sweat.

Her rare, fleeting nods of approval.

One day, after weeks, she stepped back and said:

“Again.”

You drew the bowstring. Released.

The arrow struck the center of the mark.

For the first time, Neytiri smiled at you.

A real smile—proud, warm, almost motherly.

The Blessing

That night, beside the glowing roots of the Tree of Souls, Neytiri approached you and Neyteme together.

“You both come,” she said, voice soft.

Neyteme reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

Neytiri looked between you—long, searching—and exhaled slowly.

“You have shown your heart,” she said to you. “Not with words. With living.”

You swallowed hard.

She stepped forward, placing her palm over your chest.

“I see you.”

Your breath trembled.

Then she turned to her son.

“Neyteme… you choose with wisdom. With your father’s courage and my heart.”

He bowed his head.

Finally, she placed both hands on your joined ones.

“You have my blessing.”

Neyteme squeezed your hand, tears bright in his eyes.

You felt your own fall.

Neytiri smiled at you—soft, knowing, finally at peace.