Archive of Our Own ^beta

0-3 months

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

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

Moments earlier, Mo’at had cradled the newborn with practiced reverence, checking her breathing, murmuring soft words of blessing, brushing a thumb over (y/n)’s tiny brow as if committing her to memory. When she handed (y/n) back, it was with a small nod, approval settled deep in her eyes.

Then (y/n) was back in Neytiri’s arms, skin to skin, mother and daughter 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.

Only then did 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 didn’t tease him. She didn’t smile. She simply guided his hands into place, firm and sure.

“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 through his shirt, 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 the 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.

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 glass, and something deep in her chest settled.

And in that moment, Jake Sully, soldier, warrior, leader, knew with absolute certainty:

This tiny life in his arms was the most dangerous thing he would ever love.

The moment she was in his arms and her eyes met his he knew that his little girl would have him wrapped around his little finger.

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.

After Jake 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 jumping 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 woke as soon as the sound of her steady breathings shifted.

Mo’at

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

Neytiri had barely let (y/n) leave her arms, skin to skin, breath to breath,before exhaustion finally softened her grip just enough. Mo’at waited. She always did. Only when Neytiri nodded, did Mo’at step forward.

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.

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 like an anchor.

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

“She slept well.”

“She watched the light today.”

“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 of them all.

Her first laugh.

Her first roll.

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

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 sleeping baby and became aware of things. She watched everything.

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.

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.

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 it 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.

Jake was solid and steady.

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.

The First Laugh

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.

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 the 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.

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, 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. 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 Cara 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.

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.

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.

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.

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. The kind that made something twist painfully behind his ribs.

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 patient.”

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.

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

Jake swallowed hard.

That was when it hit him.

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.

With her Grandmother

(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. “You are learning who you are.”

(Y/n) turned her head.

She focused, really focused, on Mo’at’s face. Her brow furrowed, mouth serious, as if she were deciding something important.

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.

Slow. Deep. Certain.

“There you are,” Mo’at murmured.

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

Mo’at Helping with Teething

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. “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.”

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, deliberate 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 deep, grounding 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..”

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 something,” Jake muttered once.

Neytiri smiled. “She is your daughter.”

(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 with fierce determination, one knee tucked, one leg flailing, palms slapping the ground as if she were personally offended by gravity.

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 box mat. 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. 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.

Neytiri noticed.

Neytiri disapproved.

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

First Steps

(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 unimportant.

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 hanging edge of a low table.

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 them with absolute purpose. 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 fabric for balance. She looked up, triumphant, as if to say see?

For a heartbeat, neither parent moved.

Then Neytiri dropped to her knees, 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.

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.

Who’s name would she say first

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.

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.

Cara 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 prompt her. 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 says Dada

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.”

(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) 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 against his chest, saying his name like it was the greatest thing she knew.

A mishap

(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)?”

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

Jake froze when he saw them.

“Oh thank goodness,” 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. “Very confidently.”

(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.