You never thought that the 10ft Navi Neteyam could ever like you
The rain fell in heavy sheets over the floating mountains, turning the bioluminescent moss into a slick, glowing carpet under your boots.
You huddled inside the makeshift lab outpost, fingers trembling as you adjusted your oxygen mask. Another failed sample.
Another day pretending you weren’t breaking.
Neteyam had smiled at you again this morning in his polite but distant way, the same careful curve of his lips he gave everyone.
You’d spent months telling yourself that was all it was. Kindness. Curiosity toward the tiny human who tagged along with the science team.
You were pathetic for hoping it meant more.
A Na’vi prince, future Olo’eyktan, and you… soft, clumsy, barely reaching his chest.
But you didn’t know he watched you constantly.
From the treeline, hidden in the ferns, Neteyam’s eyes tracked your every movement.
The way your small hands pushed damp hair from your face. The frustrated huff when your equipment slipped. The soft curse under your breath that made his tail flick hard against his thigh. He’d memorized the scent of your skin, your sweet human sweat mixed with the sterile tang of your masks.
Sometimes, he’d stroked himself in the canopy more nights than he could count, imagining those tiny fingers wrapped around him instead of his own.
Neteyam told himself he was protecting you. That getting too close would only hurt you. Humans were fragile. Breakable. But the obsession had grown teeth. It gnawed at him until he couldn’t breathe without thinking of you.
He started following you.
Not in the open, never where others could see. He moved like a shadow through the canopy, tail low and silent, golden eyes locked on your small form trudging through the undergrowth with your heavy pack and ridiculous breathing mask.
Every time you slipped on wet moss, his muscles coiled, ready to drop down and catch you. Every time you laughed at something your human companions said, a hot spike of jealousy twisted in his gut. That sound was his. It belonged to him.
One afternoon you nearly collided.
You were hurrying back to the outpost, arms full of glowing samples, mask fogged from the humidity. Neteyam had stepped out from behind a thick root at the exact wrong moment. Your shoulder slammed into his thigh—barely reaching his hip—and the impact sent you stumbling backward. Vials clattered. One shattered.
“Shit—!” you yelped, dropping to your knees to salvage what you could.
Neteyam froze, heart hammering so hard he was sure you could hear it. The scent of you hit him, your smell of sweat, soap from the lab, that faint sweetness that haunted his dreams. He crouched instantly, one massive hand steadying your shoulder. His fingers spanned nearly your entire back.
“Are you hurt?” His voice came out rougher than he meant. Too low. Too hungry something… anything….
You looked up at him through the clear visor, cheeks flushed. “I—I’m fine. Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
He should have let go. Instead his thumb brushed the nape of your neck, just under the strap of your mask. You shivered. He felt it. That tiny tremble went straight to his own nerves.
“You’re always rushing,” he murmured, helping you gather the unbroken vials. His braids brushed your arm. “One day you’ll fall and I won’t be there to catch you.”
You laughed, soft and self deprecating. “Wouldn’t want to trouble the mighty warrior.”
Trouble. The word burned. If only you knew how much he wanted your trouble. he wanted to be with you, in many ways, he wants to wake up to your sweet smell, your small fingers, be with you until you get an avatar body, travel with you not only that… he’d do lewd things that he’s not proud of admitting, he’d lie awake stroking his throbbing length to the memory of your voice, coming with your name choked between his teeth while he pictured your soft human cunt stretched around him and After that, the encounters multiplied.
He started “accidentally” appearing wherever you were. At the river where you collected water samples, he was already there, washing blood from a hunt, water sluicing down every ridge of muscle. You’d stared. He’d pretended not to notice, but he’d flexed just a little more, tail curling invitingly.
In the village, when you visited with your team to trade tech for herbs, he always found a reason to stand close. Close enough that his heat bled into your space. Close enough that you’d have to tilt your head all the way back to meet his eyes.
He’d catch the way your pulse jumped in your throat and have to excuse himself before he did something reckless like ask you out to dinner, from the meat he hunted earlier that day.
You, meanwhile, were unraveling.
Every polite smile from him felt like a something sharp. Every lingering glance made your chest ache worse.
You were sure he saw you as nothing more than a fragile sky person. A curiosity. The thought that he might want you back was laughable, painful laughter that always ended in tears.
He had been everywhere.
At the river, water sliding down the cut lines of his abdomen, those amber eyes flicking to you just long enough for your breath to catch.
Later in the village, he’d leaned over you while you examined a bundle of medicinal roots, his chest so close you could feel the heat rolling off his skin, the low rumble of his voice vibrating through your ribs when he asked what the “tiny machine” in your hands did. His braid had slipped forward and brushed your collarbone. You’d nearly dropped the scanner.
You pressed your forehead against your knees, trying to breathe through the ache. He’s just being nice. He’s like this with everyone. But the way his fingers had lingered on your shoulder earlier, the way his tail had curled behind you like it wanted to wrap around your waist… it was driving you insane.
From the branches above, Neteyam watched.
The sight of you curled up like that, small and vulnerable, made something twist in his chest.
He wanted to drop down, pull you into his arms, peel that ridiculous human clothing from your body. He imagined how tight you’d feel around him—how you’d whimper and stretch, your little cunt fluttering as he worked himself inside you inch by inch.
Oh! also yes, he really wants to comfort you!
He’d cum to that fantasy so many times now. Teeth sunk into his own arm to stay quiet, hips jerking into his fist while he whispered your name.
Tonight he was done pretending.
The branch barely creaked as he descended, landing silently on the platform behind you. You didn’t notice until his shadow fell over you—massive.
You startled, twisting around so fast you nearly slipped off the edge. A large blue hand caught your arm, steadying you. Neteyam crouched, bringing his face closer to yours. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide.
“You’re shaking again,” he murmured. His thumb stroked the inside of your wrist, feeling your frantic pulse. “Why do you always tremble when I’m near?”
Your mouth went dry. Up close he was overwhelming—broad shoulders, the intricate pattern of his stripes, the musky, earthy scent of him.
“I… I’m not—” you started, but the lie died when his other hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your face up to him. His fingers were so long they nearly wrapped around your entire head.
Neteyam’s gaze dropped to your lips. “I watch you,” he admitted, the words rough, almost pained. “All the time. I can’t stop. Your scent follows me... Your voice…” His tail lashed once, hard. “I want to show you around… when you’re free… if you let me ”
Heat flooded your face. Your heart hammered so hard you were sure he could hear it. “Neteyam… are you sure?”
His ears flicked back, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “I have tried to stay away. You are human.. But I am tired of fighting it.” He leaned closer, forehead nearly touching yours, breath warm against your maskless face. “I want you. I want to hunt for you, protect you.”
Your breath hitched. You should have been terrified. Terrified of the obvious size difference, species, everything—but all you felt was liquid heat pooling low in your belly.
His hand slid down, fingertips tracing your throat, then lower, brushing the swell of your chest through your thin shirt. “Tell me to leave, and I will try,” he whispered, voice strained. “But if you want me even half as badly as I want you… then I will pursue you.”
You swallowed hard, staring up at the Na’vi who had haunted every waking moment. Your hand—tiny against his—reached up and pressed against his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heart.
“I don’t want you to leave,” you breathed.
Neteyam’s eyes flashed with something feral and triumphant. In one smooth motion he scooped you up, cradling your small body against his chest as he stood to his full height. Your legs dangled, barely reaching his hips.
“Good,” he growled softly, lips brushing your temple. “Because I don’t think I could anymore.”
He carried you into the shadows of the floating forest, the bioluminescent lights painting your skin in soft blues and purples, his hands already beginning to explore what he had dreamed about for so long.
HAPPY FUCKING PRIDE MONTH
based off this request!
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