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hi, i was wondering if you could write a toddler!reader avatar, where she’s a big mommas girl and she like loves neytiri and she realizes neytiri doesn’t like spider so she decides she doesn’t like spider either until he helps her with something and she starts to like him. idk if that made sense 😭 if it didn’t feel free to ignore this
You are definitely Neytiri‘s daughter, there’s no mistaking it in the way you cling to her whenever you can, your tail curling around her leg when you toddle beside her.
You love your mama fiercely and grumble when someone gets to close while you’re cuddling, mumbling an adorable 'my mama' as Neytiri chuckles at your possessiveness, especially when it’s directed at Jake.
"What do you mean no touch? She was my wife before she was your mama." Jake retorts after having just received a small hiss from you when he tried to touch Neytiri.
"No, my mama. Daddy no touch." You poke your tongue out at him as your mother chuckles and keeps working on your hair.
"You heard your daughter." Neytiri smiles, seeing Jake’s dumbfounded expression.
You mimic Neytiri in many different ways, loving the things she does, repeating things she says, even disliking the same things she does because what upsets your mama, upsets you in return.
That’s the reason you also don’t like Spider, it’s not that he ever did something to you for you to not like him, but Neytiri just can’t get herself to accept him. He’ll always be a sky-person to her, hence your dislike towards him.
No matter how nice he is, you’ll always glare at him the same way your mother does, watching him closely whenever he’s around your siblings.
Jake crouches down beside you and snaps his fingers in front of your face, pulling your fixated gaze away from Spider, who’s fooling around with your brothers and sisters. "Don’t you want to join them, babygirl?"
You hesitate for a moment and when you see Spider again you shake your head, making grabby hands for Neytiri when she approaches you both. "Mama."
She instantly lifts you into her arms, running her finger along your nose, making you giggle as Jake straightens himself.
"She’s too much like you for her own good." He smirks, receiving a halfhearted glare from her in response before she simply turns and walks off while whispering to you softly.
One day, you reluctantly let Neteyam and the rest of your siblings drag you with them towards a pond where your older brother often fishes and to your dismay Spider is there as well but you try to ignore him, keeping close to Neteyam as you clutch your favorite wooden toy in your hand.
After you spend some quality time with them, you now watch them splash in the water from your spot on a large rock, babbling to your wooden Ikran.
Since the rock is slightly slippery from the water, you couldn’t keep your grip on it anymore at some point, slipping into the water before even a sound can escape you.
You haven’t learned to swim yet and are now flailing in the water, your siblings seeming not to notice what’s happening as they are too busy shouting and splashing each other.
As you start to choke on the water, you feel two hands pull you back over the surface by your armpits, starting to cough as your lungs try to get free from any water that bothers you.
"Whoa, Y/N. Are you okay? Here." You recognize Spider's voice, feeling him pat your back to help you breathe again.
Your siblings now have gathered around you, Kiri wiping the water from your eyes as you start to calm down again, your body shaking from shock.
You then focus your gaze on Spider, realizing he was the one to save you from nearly drowning, suddenly wrapping your short arms around his neck to cling onto him, surprising not only him but your siblings as well.
Neteyam and Lo'ak share a confused look while Kiri and Tuk smile at your interaction with Spider, all of them knowing that a few hours ago you would have hissed at for even being near you.
Spider continues to pat your back awkwardly, still shocked that you’re actually holding onto him. "It’s- it’s okay."
Ever since that day, you start to grow a liking to him over time, feeling grateful yet are still wary of him sometimes and even Neytiri seems to dislike him a bit less, but just a tiny bit.
You’re still a mamas girl through and through but now show a twinge of your father’s personality as you slowly begin to accept Spider.
Summary: You join the RDA young after the world figures out your ability to shapeshift. They offer you a new life- so why does everything feel wrong?
Warning(s): Mention of pain and discomfort when shapeshifting, the RDA
Note(s): So, I saw Avatar: Fire and Ash, and wanted to at least write a little something set in that universe. This section of the story happens before the events of the movie, so there is no spoilers in this one! Sorry that this isn't beta read. Part Two here!
You join the RDA because they make it sound like the only place you’ll ever be safe.
They find you young- young enough that the world hasn’t finished deciding what to do with someone whose body refuses to stay singular. Your ability to shift shape is treated like a miracle in press releases and like a liability in private. Governments argue over jurisdiction. Scientists argue over ownership. The RDA steps in with contracts already written, hands already extended, voices smooth and confident.
We know how to use your gifts. We can protect you. Pandora needs people like you.
You're young enough that fear still sounds like reason when it wears a calm voice and a tailored suit. Young enough to mistake a leash for a lifeline.
Afterwards, they show you carefully curated footage: Na’vi warriors painted in blood-red war stripes, arrows piercing armor, humans dragged screaming into the trees. They speak of Pandora as if it is a mouth full of teeth- hostile atmosphere, lethal fauna, a planet that wants you dead. They say savage like it’s a diagnosis.
“This is why we need people like you,” someone says gently. “People who can survive where others can’t.”
They frame it as responsibility. As prevention. As protection. They tell you that without the RDA, more people will die- scientists, workers, families who just want a future off a dying Earth. They tell you the Na’vi don’t understand progress, that they won’t negotiate, that they answer every attempt at peace with violence.
By the time they ask if you’re willing to help, the room feels smaller. The choice feels narrower. Outside these walls are governments arguing, crowds speculating, strangers who would love to decide what you deserve.
You nod before you realize you’re doing it.
You skip entire layers of training because your body can already do what machines struggle to replicate. Where others learn procedures, you are the procedure. You’re sent ahead of survey teams, ahead of engineers, ahead of anyone whose life costs more to replace. You walk into environments that would shred unmodified lungs. You stand in atmospheres that make others choke and panic. You adapt, cell by cell, instinctively, efficiently.
They assign you handlers.
Not friends- handlers. People who know your resting heart rate better than your favorite color. People who smile while watching your vitals scroll across transparent screens, fingers hovering over emergency overrides they’re always a little too ready to use. Doctors who talk about you while you’re still in the room, using third-person pronouns like you’re furniture that might break if handled wrong.
“Stability looks good today,” one of them says while you’re still shaking from a shift.
“Let’s see how far we can push it next time,” another replies.
They don’t say human when they look at you. Not really. They say asset. Adaptive. Exceptional. Your ability to alter your body, to rewrite bone and skin and organ density, is something they can catalog and deploy. You become a collection of graphs and projected tolerances. A list of acceptable losses.
They house you in white rooms with glass walls- clean, sterile, impossible to hide in. People watch you constantly, smiling without warmth, offering praise that never quite reaches their eyes. You’re commended in reports and quietly avoided in hallways. Conversations stop when you enter. Someone always finds an excuse to leave.
You learn quickly which version of yourself makes them most comfortable. Smaller changes. Cleaner ones. Nothing that reminds them you can become something they can’t predict.
Years pass like this. Not marked by birthdays or milestones, but by evaluations and clearance upgrades. You grow taller. Stronger. More precise. You learn how to hold a form longer, how to suppress the tremor in your hands afterward, how to smile when someone congratulates you on a successful test that nearly killed you.
That’s what the briefing says, over and over, in clipped sentences that echo long after the screens go dark. But the first time you see it- really see it, not through filtered feeds or drone cams- you feel something loosen in your chest, a tension you didn’t even realize you’d been carrying for years.
They release you into a controlled zone: a section of forest fenced with invisible containment fields, watched by drones that hum softly overhead like mechanical insects. The air is still toxic by human standards, but survivable for you. It slides into your lungs rich and damp, thick with scents that your old training has no names for. The ground beneath your feet gives subtly, alive and faintly warm, as though it recognizes the weight you carry and chooses not to resist it.
Light pours down through leaves larger than any sail you’ve seen, filtering through in fractured rays that scatter gold, green, and emerald in impossible patterns. Every shade feels alive, shimmering as though the canopy itself is breathing. Bioluminescent fungi pulse softly along roots and tree bases, reacting to your movement, glowing brighter as if startled into life by your presence. Air is heavy with the smell of sweet sap and rain-soaked earth, layered with something floral, electric, a scent that clings to your skin and curls deep into your lungs. It doesn’t just fill your senses- it anchors you.
You slow without meaning to, each step hesitant, reverent. You almost forget the RDA, the cameras, the commands. Even the warnings fade, leaving only the forest and its quiet, deliberate rhythms.
A small creature darts across your path, limbs spindly and iridescent, skin shimmering in impossible colors. It pauses, regards you briefly with eyes that feel aware, and vanishes into the underbrush without fear, without hesitation. A cluster of glowing insects rises from the moss like liquid fire, hovering, weaving in tight spirals, then scattering silently like sparks from an unseen flame.
Vines curl and uncurl lazily along the trunks of trees, not threatening, just alive. When you place a hand against the bark, you feel a faint vibration beneath your palm, a rhythm that reminds you unsettlingly of a heartbeat.
Your comm crackles.
“Vitals are clean,” someone says. “Asset appears stable. Proceed.”
You don’t want to.
For the first time since joining the RDA, you feel something loosen inside your chest. The planet isn’t hostile- it’s aware. Watching, yes. Measuring you the way you were taught to measure it. But not with hatred. The world breathes. The forest hums. Everything is connected in a way Earth forgot how to be.
This is when doubt takes root.
If this place is savage, why does it cradle life so carefully?
If the Na’vi are monsters, why does the land itself feel… gentle?
You feel a tug, faint at first, then stronger, pulling you forward, deeper into the forest, as if the planet itself is curious about you.
The deeper you go, the more the magic of it reveals itself. Seed pods, small as teardrops, float through the air, drifting slowly as if suspended in water. When they brush past, they release tiny clouds of light, glimmering like dust made of stars. You step near a shallow pool, and the water reflects not just your image, but faint trails of bioluminescence winding through the roots beneath. Tiny creatures swim in it, transparent, their bodies pulsing with soft neon, leaving streaks of light as they move.
Even the air moves with a purpose here. Breezes curve around your face like caresses, carrying scents that make your lungs ache with longing. Every step releases a whisper of life from the forest: leaves shifting, vines twisting, insects skimming the ground in quick flashes of luminescence. The forest doesn’t just exist- it sings, a song too intricate and layered for your ears to fully catch, but somehow impossible to ignore.
You try to describe it later, in the sterile white rooms of the RDA, but words fail you. They hear only “complex,” “reactive,” “ecology”- terms too clinical to capture the shimmer of light on leaves, the tiny sparks of color dancing in pools of water, the pulse of life beneath your hand.
“Don’t anthropomorphize,” a handler warns. “Pandora is dangerous. You just haven’t seen it yet."
Later, as you wade through bioluminescent marshes while analysts murmur excitedly in your ear about data returns, you start to notice what the RDA doesn’t log.
Bulldozers carving through the forest without pause for nesting grounds. Biologists who protest vanishing from assignments. Words like containment mutating quietly into elimination on spreadsheets no one talks about aloud.
You hear it before you see it- not gunfire, not the mechanical hum of drones- but the quiet rhythm of planning.
Late-night briefings you’re not supposed to attend, doors left half-open because no one thinks the freak will understand the numbers. Atmospheric processors scaled beyond “research.” You watch maps light up with projected blast zones that don’t care about villages, only about yield.
Hunting units shift from defense to retrieval. And one name keeps surfacing, spoken with irritation, obsession, almost a hiss:
Sully.
Circled. Annotated. Spat like a curse.
Jake Sully and his family aren’t just enemies. They’re obstacles. Symbols. Proof that Pandora can’t be tamed while they’re alive.
They speak of final pushes, decisive measures. They speak of fire, of scorched earth, of burning Pandora until nothing remains to resist.
You watch a recording where someone laughs while replaying footage of a burning stretch of forest. A scientist flinches but says nothing, you can only watch as command signs off anyway.
One night, you overhear a strategist mutter, almost conversationally, “If we burn enough forest, they’ll come to us.”
A few people laugh.
You stop sleeping after that. The forest haunts your dreams even when you aren’t on Pandora- the heat of the fires, the screams of animals you never see, the laughter that feels like knives in the dark.
They start pushing your abilities harder. Asking if you can approximate indigenous physiology. If you can blend. If you can infiltrate. The way they look at you changes- less amusement, more hunger.
That’s when the word freak finally slips out.
Not shouted. Not angry. Just casual.
“Careful,” a tech mutters when you pass, “thing like that could turn on us.”
Thing.
Something cold settles into you then, slow and absolute. You understand, all at once, that no matter how useful you make yourself, you will never be included, only deployed. You aren’t a person here. You’re a contingency. A failsafe. A leash they haven’t figured out how to tighten yet.
That night, you don’t wait for permission.
You don’t pack. You don’t plan. Planning assumes time, and time is something the RDA only ever gives you until it decides to take it back.
You choose a body the RDA fears and covets in equal measure. You easily pull the image from memory: blue skin under bioluminescent light, height and grace and strength not born of machinery. A body that belongs here.
Your body answers before your mind can hesitate.
The first sound is bone.
They stretch with a sound like ice cracking under pressure. Pain spikes- sharp, electric- as your spine lengthens, vertebrae re-spacing themselves with brutal precision. You bite down on your sleeve to keep from screaming as your ribcage expands, lungs reshaping to drink deeper air. Your heart stutters, then resumes with a heavier, slower beat.
Your hands convulse. Fingers lengthen, joints re-aligning, nails thickening into something harder. Your skin burns- burns- as pigment floods outward, human tones drowning beneath blue, faint stripes surfacing like memories you never lived.
A tail forces its way into existence at the base of your spine and you sob despite yourself, because nothing has ever hurt like this and nothing has ever felt more right.
Your face is last, cruel in its patience.
Your jaw reshapes with a sickening pull. Your nose flattens, cartilage folding inward. Your eyes widen, darkening, pulling in light until the room seems suddenly brighter, sharper, unbearably detailed. When your ears crawl upward along your skull and taper to points, you nearly black out.
When it’s over, you lie there shaking, too large for the cot, breath dragging in slow, powerful pulls you don’t know how to control yet. The room smells different now. Everything does. Metal. Fear.
Your fear.
You catch your reflection in the steel wall.
A Na’vi stares back.
Not perfect. Not born. Something about the posture is wrong, the stillness too practiced- but close enough. Close enough to vanish into the forest. Close enough to survive.
By the time the alarms realize something is wrong, you’re already in the forest, feet sinking into living soil, the network of Pandora thrumming beneath you like a heartbeat answering your own.
When you burst from the controlled zone, the RDA is already regrouping at the edge of the forest. They shout orders, curse your name, curse the trees- but their bullets are useless here. Pandora itself seems to fold around you, carrying you further into its depths, hiding you in plain sight.
Hours stretch into days.
You no longer measure time by hours or meals, as you once did in the white rooms. You mark it by the life around you: blooms unfurling in colors you’ve never seen, petals glowing faintly under Pandora’s filtered light; insects that glitter like liquid gemstones, wings flickering with iridescence as they dart between leaves; birds tracing arcs of faint light across the canopy, feathers reflecting bioluminescent patterns even in daylight. Every step, every breath, reminds you that the planet is alive- and that it wants more than extraction. It wants preservation.
Your body aches. Muscles tremble with exhaustion. Lungs burn against air still thick with unfamiliar gases. But you keep moving, because stopping isn’t safe, and because the forest is teaching you, whether you notice or not.
You watch the animals.
A small herd moves through a clearing- slender-legged, striped in shifting blues and greens, heads bobbing as they sniff the ground and nuzzle plants. Their antenna-like whiskers probe the soil, sniffing, tasting, and nudging one another as they graze on thick, spongy moss and low shrubs. They drink from a clear, shallow stream with slow, deliberate sips, eyes constantly flicking for danger. You mimic them, kneeling to sip from the same pool, letting the cool water wash the dryness from your throat. You bite at leaves, nibble fruits your human instincts would have ignored, and find your stomach forgiving.
Nearby, a larger creature lopes cautiously through the underbrush, six legs moving with smooth, deliberate rhythm. It grazes on thick ferns and low shrubs, alert to every movement and sound. You copy its careful steps, testing plants, finding solid ground, learning without knowing the names of anything you touch or taste.
You move lightly over soft moss, climb with careful precision, stepping where no trace remains. Nights are spent tucked in bioluminescent groves, fungi glowing faintly beneath you, seeds drifting like lanterns above, casting the world in quiet, shifting color. Sleep comes in fragments, but even in dreams the forest pulses beneath your skin, a constant, gentle thrum.
A few more days pass, and you begin to realize that berries, leaves, and whatever edible roots you can find won’t be enough. Your body- long, strong, shaped for speed and endurance- demands more. You feel the hollow ache in your stomach and the way your muscles twitch with need.
That afternoon you watch a predator slip silently through a stream, its body low, eyes scanning the water. With a sudden lunge, it strikes, claws plunging into the shallow flow, lifting a wriggling fish with precision. It doesn’t waste a second. Teeth clamp down, and the fish disappears in a flash.
Something clicks inside you.
Hunger strips everything down to what matters. It sharpens your thoughts in a way the sterile RDA rooms never could, cuts through training manuals and protocols until only instinct remains. You sink into a crouch at the water’s edge and watch, really watch.
The predator doesn’t rush. Its limbs brace against slick stone, weight distributed with careful precision. It waits, motionless, letting the water settle, letting the fish forget it is there. When it strikes, it isn’t strength that wins- it’s timing. Rhythm. A patience so complete it feels like part of the river itself.
You feel your body mirror the lesson before your mind names it.
Your fingers sink into the cool current, tail twitching for balance. You mimic the predator, diving your hand toward a darting fish, fingertips brushing scales, heart hammering. The fish slips. You try again. And again. The forest hums around you, water splashing over stones, insects flickering along the banks, sun filtering through towering leaves.
The water ripples around your hands, darting fish slipping through like quicksilver. No matter how carefully you move, no matter how patient you are, your fingers are too soft, too human and too Na'vi in equal measure. Hunger gnaws at you. You can’t wait.
You flex your hands, and instinct takes over. Nails thicken and sharpen, lengthening into curved claws, hard and precise. The transformation is subtle but powerful; muscle and bone shift to support the new form. The cool water presses against your claws, and suddenly, you are no longer merely trying- you are predatory, efficient, alive in a way you haven’t felt since leaving the RDA.
You dive your claws into the stream, and with a swift, practiced motion, you pin a wriggling fish against a submerged rock. There’s a dull thunk as you deliver the final blow, the fish still under your grip. Cold and slick in your hands, it’s the first kill you’ve taken in this body, in this new life.
"Thank you." you murmur softly.
You gather dry twigs, small sticks stripped from the low branches, leaves that crumble to dust between your fingers. You strike stones together, a sharp clang against another, sparks spitting briefly into the air. Your heart pounds. Sparks fall uselessly onto damp moss. You try again, rubbing sticks, grinding them together with raw strength, but nothing catches. But Pandora is not a kitchen. The forest has no patience for convenience.
The fish is lying there, cold and unyielding. Hunger twists in your gut, muscles trembling from exertion, lungs still burning from long days of running. You can’t wait. Fire isn’t coming.
You bite. Scales scrape against your teeth, fins crack under your jaw. The flesh is cold and slick, metallic on your tongue, sharp with the taste of water and living stone. Your stomach tightens in protest, a reflex from a body that remembers sterilized meals and approved rations. Then it eases.
Every bite is messy, real, and for the first time in days, satisfying.
In the next few days, the trees begin to thin. The canopy lifts, and sunlight spills across your face in unfiltered waves, warm and blinding. You haven’t felt this warmth on bare skin in years. The ocean’s salt and tang tease your senses first as a scent, faint and foreign, carried on a wind sharper and clearer than anything under the forest canopy. Somewhere ahead, the cry of distant creatures and the flash of gliding shapes over the water tell you: the coast is near.
Ghost Boyfriend loves cumming on your tits; he especially loves seeing it drip off your nipples. He will literally spend an extra ten minutes playing with your tits once done, massaging his cum into your breasts.
Werewolf boyfriend’s favorite place to cum is pretty predictable. He loves cumming in your pussy and knotting you to keep it locked inside. His absolute favorite is when he gets you in the perfect position, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix as he knots you. Loves the feeling of cumming directly in your womb.
Demon boyfriend loves cumming down your throat, not in your mouth (although he loves that too), but entirely down your throat. He has your nose pressed up to his pelvis as his cock sits hot and heavy down your throat. You look up at him with tears in your eyes as he shoots rope after rope of hot cum straight down your throat.
Gnoll Boyfriend is completely feral every time he fucks you. He cums in your pussy every time. He will never pull out of your warm wet cunt, fucking into you deep and hard until you both cum over and over again. It only stops once you finally succumb to your exhaustion and pass out.
Dragon Boyfriend Option 1. Dragon boyfriend that is larger than you but not so large that it’s obscene. He enjoys cumming all over your ass, loving the way he can then continue fucking you and watch your glistening cheeks jiggle for him.
Dragon Boyfriend Option 2. Dragon boyfriend that is much larger than you. His cock won’t fit inside you, so he fucks you with his tongue over and over until you are fucked stupid. When it’s his turn, he holds you in his claw and rubs your body up and down his massive cock, using you to jerk himself off. He loves cumming all over your body, producing so much cum that you are practically covered from head to toe. The sight alone has him ready to go again, your wet and sticky body gliding effortlessly along his ribbed shaft, clit catching on the ridges on each stroke.
Spider Hybrid Boyfriend keeps you pinned down with his webs for hours as he works meticulously to fill each and every one of your holes. He fucks your mouth like a fleshlight, laughing as your try with all your might to squeeze your thighs together, trying to get any stimulation to your poor clit, but his webs keep your legs spread wide. He then moves to filling your pussy, making sure that hole is sufficiently dripping before moving to your tight ass. He works you open, teasing you as each thrust in your ass causes your pussy to squirt out his cum, meaning he’ll just need to fuck and fill you again.
Summary - Neteyam, Lo'ak, and Spider being adorably nosy and chaotic while you do your makeup.
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You sat on your bed inside the lab module, an array of palettes and brushes scattered on a blanket in front of you like a chaotic artist’s kit. A small round mirror leaned against a stack of books, reflecting your face as you carefully applied shimmer to the inner corners of your eyes. No reason. No party. No date. No mission. Just because you felt like it. And maybe because it helped you feel like yourself in a world where everything was alien, even your own reflection sometimes.
Outside, the sky was dimming into dusk, the forest humming quietly. You were deep into blending some rosy blush onto your cheeks when you heard the hatch open with a familiar hiss.
Lo’ak’s voice rang out first, as loud and unfiltered as ever.
“Yo! Y/N, what’re you doing?”
You didn’t even flinch. “Contouring my face so I can feel better about my life choices.”
There was a beat of silence.
Spider’s face appeared in the doorway next, eyes widening. “Wait… are you putting on makeup? Like... makeup makeup?”
You gave them a quick look before turning back to the mirror. “Yes, Spider. Like, makeup makeup. Mascara, blush, highlighter. Do you want me to list ingredients too?”
“Damn,” Lo’ak muttered, ducking through the doorframe to join you. “That’s a lotta tiny stuff. Why are there so many brushes?”
Neteyam was the last to walk in, graceful and quiet as always, ducking his head just a little more than the others to enter. He said nothing at first, but his eyes locked on your face with open curiosity. Then his ears twitched, and he tilted his head like a confused ikran pup.
Lo’ak dropped onto the floor dramatically, crossing his arms behind his head as he stared at your stuff. “Wait, is this like… battle paint? Or more like war against boredom?”
You laughed under your breath. “More like war against bad vibes.”
Spider plopped down next to you, peering into one of your makeup compacts. “This one looks like crushed rocks.”
“Highlighter,” you said, taking it back. “It makes your skin glow.”
Neteyam crouched beside Lo’ak and gave you a long, observant look. “You already glow,” he said, matter-of-fact.
You blinked, momentarily pausing with the brush halfway to your cheek. “Thanks, I guess?”
Lo’ak made a dramatic gagging noise. “Bro, stop. That was so corny.”
Neteyam shrugged, amused. “I’m just saying facts.”
Spider nodded like he was taking notes for science. “So you’re doing all this just for yourself? Not for a party? Or like, a hologram call to Earth?”
You rolled your eyes fondly. “Yes. For me. Sometimes girls just do makeup because they want to. No audience needed.”
Lo’ak reached for one of your lip glosses. “Can I try this? What is this, slime?”
You slapped his hand gently. “That’s lip gloss. And no, you cannot put it on like war paint.”
Neteyam leaned in slightly, genuinely intrigued. “What does it do?”
“It makes your lips shiny,” you said, swiping some on to demonstrate. “See?”
“Bro, humans are weird,” Spider mumbled, even though he was human himself.
You gave him a look. “Says the boy who eats Pandoran fruit straight from the tree and hasn’t washed his hair in like, four days.”
Spider held up a finger. “That’s called being resourceful.”
Lo’ak grabbed one of your eyeshadow palettes and opened it upside down, causing a small cascade of sparkly powder to fall onto the blanket.
You gasped. “Lo’ak!”
“Oops,” he said, but didn’t look sorry.
Neteyam shook his head, amused. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”
“Exactly!” you pointed at Neteyam like he was a prophet.
Spider, now entirely invested, picked up one of your blush brushes and tapped it against his hand. “So what’s this one for?”
“Blush. Makes you look cute and alive. Not like a tired swamp creature.”
“I’m offended,” he muttered, but handed it to you. “Show me.”
You raised your eyebrows. “You want blush?”
He nodded solemnly. “For science.”
Lo’ak snorted. “Oh, we’re doing this? Okay, okay. Y/N, give me shiny lips. Let me sparkle.”
You burst out laughing but obliged. “You asked for it.”
Soon, you had Spider with a subtle dusting of blush that actually made him look kind of endearing, and Lo’ak with a swipe of pink gloss on his bottom lip and some gold shimmer above his eyes. He kept puckering his lips and making kissy faces in the mirror.
“I am glamorous,” he declared dramatically. “No one talk to me unless it’s about fashion now.”
Neteyam sat back, arms crossed, watching it all unfold with that unreadable, faintly entertained expression of his. You caught him looking at you again as you added a soft wing to your eyeliner.
“What?” you asked.
He looked thoughtful. “You look… different.”
You smiled softly, this time really meeting his eyes. “In a good way or bad?”
Neteyam tilted his head again. “In a… Y/N way.”
Lo’ak made a retching noise again, but Spider elbowed him. “Dude, shut up. This is poetic.”
“Thank you,” Neteyam said, unbothered. Then, after a beat, “Can I try the… shiny powder?”
You blinked. “You? You want highlighter?”
He nodded once, serious.
Lo’ak made a big show of fainting. “He does have a soul!”
You reached for your favorite brush and gently applied a bit of champagne-colored shimmer to Neteyam’s cheekbones. His skin caught the light perfectly.
“Oh,” Spider said. “Oh, he’s glowing.”
“He’s always glowing,” you mumbled.
Neteyam gave you a look that said he’d definitely heard that. You coughed and focused on cleaning your brushes instead.
Lo’ak was still holding your lip gloss like it was sacred. “Wait, can we make this a thing? Like, makeup night?”
“Makeup night,” Spider echoed, nodding.
“I’m not doing this every day,” you warned.
“But it’s fun,” Neteyam said. “And… peaceful.”
You looked at him, surprised.
He gave a half-smile. “It feels like you. Like home.”
A warmth bloomed in your chest. You hadn’t realized until then how much you missed this—the casual normalcy of goofing off with friends, trying new things just because, sitting in a room where everyone made you feel safe just by being there.
“Fine,” you said finally. “But next time, we’re doing skincare masks too.”
Spider groaned. “What does that even mean?”
Lo’ak looked terrified. “You’re not putting goo on my face, are you?”
Neteyam just smiled quietly, his eyes never really leaving yours. “If it makes her smile, I’ll try it.”
And just like that, the room erupted in chaos again, Lo’ak trying to run, Spider shouting about cucumbers, and you laughing so hard you nearly dropped your mirror. The makeup was half-smeared, the brushes were out of order, but it didn’t matter.
None of it mattered.
Because this—this was better than perfect eyeliner or glitter lips. This was joy, unfiltered and bright, and you were glowing in the truest way possible.
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summary: Neteyam and Y/n were born together, its only right they die together. wrong.
Pairings: none.
Familial relationships: Neteyam x y/n twin sister reader, Neytiri x daughter reader, jake x daughter reader
authors note: Not proof read. First oneshot. Send me requests for avatar reader or an oc.
You and Neteyam are two sides of the same coin, for months you breathed together, you were born together, you played together, became older siblings together, the only thing you didn’t do together? Die.
“We have to go back for Spider!” Lo’ak shouted, almost begging you and Neteyam to help him save the human boy.
You hissed, knowing nothing good can ever come out of helping someone who shared the same blood as the demon that started all this mess.
Neteyam looked at you, his eyes full of emotions, leaving the choice up too you.
You sighed, “Fine” You huffed out, Lo’ak smiled at you, grabbing your hand.
“Thankyou.” He says, You deadpanned at him.
“Thank me if we make it out alive.”
It took awhile to find the human boy, you couldn’t help but feel you made the correct choice as he stood there, relief on his face.
“Lo’ak, Neteyam, Y/n!” He shouted, You hissed at him.
“Shh. Honestly.”
Neteyam laughed at you, you whipped around to glare at him.
“Do you have a death wish ‘teyam?” You asked your twin, Neteyam immediately silenced himself.
“Come on, Untie me.” Spider begged.
“Use your manners, and maybe I will.” You quipped, seriously before you couldn’t help a small smile appear on your lips as you began to untie him.
Its strange how playfulness can turn into immediate fear as you hear the click of guns being loaded.
“Quick! Behind here.” You urged your brothers and spider, hiding behind a wall just as bullets started to fly around.
“Shit” Lo’ak swore, taking the words right out of your mouth.
“Exactly.” You agreed, looking around your surroundings, before picking up a metal pole.
You waited for one of the RDA men to come past you before knocking him unconscious, stealing his gun.
“When I say three, run and jump into the water.” You commanded the boys.
“No.” Neteyam refused, His hand coming up to grip yours.
“’Teyam please. You need to protect Lo’ak whilst I shoot okay?” You begged him, Neteyam shaking his head.
“Y/n/n, Please don’t make me choose”
“Neteyam, seriously, it’s either I shoot from here or I go around knocking RDA demons out with a metal pole, what would you prefer?” You spat, your brother’s eyes filled with tears, his arms pulling you into a hug.
“Sìlpey oe, nga ziverok.” He whispered before letting go.
You nod once, not making any verbal promises.
“On Three. One” You start. “two” Lo’ak gets ready to run, Neteyam and Spider behind him. “Three. Run” You shout as you step out and start shooting.
You hear the splashes of your brothers as you watch your bullets fly into the other men, one by one going down.
You freeze as you gun Jams, bullets gone.
“skxawng” You say throwing down the gun and beelining for the bars above the water.
You go to jump, meeting the eyes of a avatar, one that is pointing his gun right at you, he pulls the trigger just as your feet leave the ground, a ripple of pain shooting thought you as the bullet tears through your skin.
You manage to swim half way towards where Neteyam, Lo’ak and Spider are waiting before the pain starts, you cry out as you bring your hand to your chest where the bullet hit you.
“Y/n?” Neteyam calls out, hearing your cry.
“I’ve been shot” You whimper to your twin, who is now beside you, “Holy shit- I’ve been shot.”
“Lo’ak! Contact dad.” Neteyam yells.
“Dad? Dad? Lo’ak shouts into his comms.
Neteyam holds you into him, as Tsireya swims over on her Ilu.
“What happened?” Your friend asks as she helps Neteyam get you onto the Ilu.
“I’ve been shot.” You whisper still in disbelief.
“Go towards that rock.” Lo’ak tells your twin, before he tries to contact your dad again.
“I want mom” You cry out, clutching onto your brother.
“I know Y/n/n, I know.” Neteyam clutches you closer as he carried you onto the rock, just as your father makes his own way onto it.
“Oh Babygirl.” He breathes out as he takes you out of Neteyam’s arms.
“I’m sorry dad” You whimper as he lays your head in his lap.
“It’s okay baby, it’s okay”
“I want Mom” You gasp out, your breaths coming out unevenly.
Your mother flies down on her Ikran.
“Oh Eywa, my sweet baby, my y/n” Neytiri’s voice cracks.
“Mom, Mom” You call to her, reaching your arm out towards her as she falls to her knees next to you, her hand immediately coming to your cheek, rubbing away your tears.
“Mama” You sob, “I want to go home, I want to see grandmother, I don’t want to die.”
Your mom sobs with you, her head coming down to rest against your as your vision blurs.
“We will go home, baby, we will go home soon.” She whispers to you.
You smile at her one last time before your heart stops, one last breath stuttering from your mouth.
Neteyam lets out a gut wrenching scream as he feels your life source slip away, Neytiri’s own scream echoing her sons.
Jake sat there frozen as his hand held your slowly growing cold one, his comms buzzing on his ears.
“can you hear me corporal? Yeah I think you can. I got your daughters. Well, two of them anyway. Same deal as before, you for them”
Jake looks up towards Lo’ak, his youngest son’s face ashen.
In which a tough night leads you into someone in particular’s arms
WARNINGS; Mild Cursing; Slight mentions of Sex; Mentions of Parental Issues.
No mentions of a specific gender
Spider x reader
You felt hot tears pour down your face. This was the third time you had called Sasha. Yet to no avail, she hadn’t picked up the phone. You’d think your best friend would answer in your time of need.
You scrolled to the next person in your contacts list, Missy. After three rings, Missy had finally picked up. “Hey Y/n.”,she answered cheerfully. “Hey.”,you sighed. “Are you home by chance?”,You asked, attempting to choke back tears.
“Uh no I’m out of town right now. I won’t be back till tomorrow”,she said dodgy , like that wasn’t the entire truth. “Are you okay?”,she follows up. “No no everything is okay.”,you lied, trying not to be a bother.
“Um enjoy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow”,you sigh before hanging up.
<~>~<~>~<~>
You don’t remember exactly how you got here. All you knew was that you parked your car a few blocks up and ended up outside Spiders Window. You lightly tapped on his window praying that Ant and Dusty weren’t at his house. All you needed was to be even more embarrassed.
Spiders light flickered on before he peered his head out his window to see you standing at the window, face soaked in tears, mascara, and rain water. “Shit. Y/n you okay?”,he asks in a concerned tone. “Can I come in?”,you asked in barely a whisper. He eagerly nods before helping you climb through his window.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to impose, I didn’t know where else to go.”,you said as tears started to roll once again. “You’re not imposing. My mom actually isn’t even here. She’s..uh..out of town“,he says,hesitant yet still glancing at you with that concerned glance on his face.
He eyes the darkened expression on your face, “Are they fighting again?”,he asks only glancing at you slightly. You let out a deep sigh, “Yeah. And it’s really bad this time.”, you wipe your face.
You hated feeling weak. You weren’t a weak punk ass bitch, your words not mine . And you made sure you never cried in front of ANYONE. But when it came to Spencer, for some odd reason all your walls came down. In your eyes nobody knew him like you did. Yea he could be a dick and a narcissistic asshole but it wasn’t completely his fault. And he could be surprisingly sweet when it came down to it.
Your parents always fought. It was what you grew up hearing. But recently the fights had been getting worse and worse. They’d been getting more volatile, sometimes even ending in screaming matches that made you flinch at the mere sound of a raised voice in school.
“I..I can’t stay there. I really can’t Spencer”,you breathed out. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to Y/n. You know you’re always welcome here”,he walks over to you, caressing your arms before engulfing you into a hug. You pulled him tight as you possibly could. Truth be told, he was your safe space. He was who you went to when you needed a shoulder to lean on when it came to real shit.
“Okay your clothes are sopping wet, do you wanna take a shower and I’ll grab you some clean clothes?”,He asks, eyeing the damp sweats that were clung to your body. You just nod up at him with a slight smile. You make your way to his bathroom before getting into the hot shower. This seemed to make all the bad thoughts melt away. It was just you and the water, until you heard the door creek open.
“Ok just coming in to drop off your clothes”, Spider walks in, a hand over his eyes to shield his eyes from you. “Um why are you acting like this is something you’ve never seen before?”, You laugh at the site in front of you.
“Oi, I’m tryna be respectful ya’know “,he shrugs. “I mean you could always join me”,you give a smirk. Spider eyes you,shocked as if he’s considering it and then it looks as if he snaps out of it. “I will be in my room when you’re done”,he says almost tripping over his words before disappearing from the bathroom entryway . “Am I losin my edge’?”,you asked yourself aloud.
You rinse off before stepping out the shower and drying off with the fresh towel he had put out for you. You slip into the seemingly somewhat oversized basketball practice jersey of his and the basketball shorts that felt gigantic. You eyed yourself in the mirror, loving what was looking back at you in the mirror.
You make your way into Spiders room, he’s on his video game, as usual. You glance over at him and he’s already staring back at you. “I reckon you look better in my clothes than me,eh?”, he smiles. “I will admit it looks really good on me”,you smile at the mirror placed across from you beside Spencer’s bed.
“Well in all fairness you look good in everything you wear”, he says looking up at you from his seat on the edge of the bed. You shove him, “oh shut up”, with a laugh. He gives you a wide grin, and the comfortable silence sets in. Your mind starts to wander back to the scene that had unfolded 2 hours previously.
“You wanna talk about it?”, he looks up at you solemnly. You just shake your head no before taking a seat next to him. “Thank you for letting me stay here Spider. Seriously”,you grab his hand. “You know it’s no problem”,He smiles over at you.
“I do have one question though”,he says hesitant as if he doesn’t want to ask. “Hmm?”, you turn your attention back to him. “Why’d you come here? Like I know you said you didn’t have anywhere else to go but I can’t help but wonder.”,he asks.
“Truth is , I did call Sasha and Missy. But Sasha didn’t answer and Missy is out of town. But when I sat and thought about it I only wanted to be around you. You are for some crazy reason I can’t understand, the only person who understands me. And sometimes you’re the only person I can stand to be around.”, you let out a deep sigh.
He throws an arm over your shoulder and pulls you into a side hug. You smirk over at him before crawling onto his lap and straddling him, kissing him deeply. “You are so not losing your edge”,he laughs. Signaling that he heard you in the shower earlier.
★ THAT BOY IS A REAL PUSSY PLEASER ── spencer "spider" white !
pairing - spider x fem!reader
Spider couldn't stop eating you out every chance he got, whether you two were at school, his place or a party. You could've literally been anywhere and he would still find a way to just get a slight taste, a wise fellow could even say he's pussy drunk. And the thing is that you absolutely love it.
cw: oral (f!receiving), pet names (princess, ange), swearing, semi public sex, maybe some grammar errors
You were so needy all day, aching for some contact, and the fact that you were at a party right now, with no other than Spider, alcohol already in your system, was making this need even worse.
And that's how you found yourself sprawled at the foot of Dusty's bed, dress pulled up to your waist, with Spider between your legs.
"please spider... " you pleaded out, hands gripping the white sheets. The feeling of Spider's breath fanning over your thighs was driving you crazy.
"patience, princess," he said, softly kissing your left knee, his lips then suddenly hovering over your soaking core. "let me have some fun. "
He didn't dive back in, no, he began to slowly kiss your inner things, torturing you. His lips were soft, almost reverent, as he placed a kiss high up on your right thigh. He lingered there, breathing you in, before moving agonizingly slow to place an identical kiss in the same spot on your left thigh.
Moving his head back to look into your eyes, he then placed a kiss onto your clit, over the fabric of your panties, maintaining eye contact.
Your breath hitched, your hand softly grabbing onto his hair. "stop teasing," you pouted, wanting to feel more. He listened, his finger hooking into the sides of your panties, dragging them down to your ankles.
He took both of his thumbs opening up your entrance, pussy clenching around nothing. "fuck, clenching around nothing huh. " he then took his time licking up a stripe. He groaned at the taste, licking again and again. "all this for me?" Your hummed a small mhm, meanwhile your hand tightened onto the sheets and the other onto his hair. A soft, strangled groan pours forward into your cunt, making you toss your head back in ecstasy. Motivating him to lick, once again, faster this time.
“fuck—so good Spider, so good just for me.” pulling his pretty blonde hair, whining. Your eyes began to roll up into the back of your head, already beginning to feel fucked out.
Spider began to lap at your cunt, going from slow to fast and back to slow. Savoring every last bit of your cunts juices. He then added a finger, curling it. You moaned at the feeling, your pussy clenching around his finger, thighs crushing his head, feeling yourself get closer.
He pushed his finger in and out dragging it against your walls, his mouth wrapping around your clit, sucking on it. You screamed out "fuck! feels too good!!" your hips began to move on their own. Spider took this as an opportunity to add a second finger, curving it just right for your back to arch. "hngh—can't take it anymore, " crying out as he sucked your clit harder, fingers plunging deeper in and out, stretching your slick pussy open, as his tongue flicked relentlessly over your swollen clit. The wet sounds of his mouth devouring you filled the room, mixed with the sounds of your whimpers and moans.
"that's it, baby," he murmured against your folds, voice vibrating through your core. He sucked harder on your clit, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. his fingers pumped faster, knuckles brushing your entrance with each thrust. Your walls fluttered around him, gripping tight, desperate for more as heat coiled low in your belly.
You bucked against his face, thighs quivering as they clamped around his ears, but he didn't stop. His free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady, forcing you to take every lick, every suck, every deep slide of his fingers. The pressure built unbearably, your breaths coming in ragged pants, fingers yanking at his blonde strands.
He groaned into you, the sound low and hungry, fucking you with his fingers even harder. Juices coating his hand and chin, dripping down to the sheets, as he devoured your cunt like a man starved. Your back arched off the bed, toes curling. "i'm going to—"
You shattered, orgasm ripping through you, pussy spasming wildly around his fingers. He didn't stop, still sucking your clit through your orgasm, drawing out every shudder, every cry that tore from your throat. He groaned, lapping up your release as it flooded his mouth, his fingers slowing to a gentle thrust, milking every last drop of ecstasy from your body and cleaning you up with his tongue.
"je t'aime, mon ange." he whispered, pulling out his fingers. He pulled your panties up and dress down. He then stood up and sat on the bed next to you, softly playing with your hair.
"you think Dusty's gonna be mad?" you look up at him, smiling. He let out a loud snort.
