#Starbound ask blog | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gardenladysworld · 1 month ago

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Starbound hearts

Status: I'm working on it

Pairings: Neteyam x human!f!reader

Aged up characters!

Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining

Summary: In the breathtaking, untamed beauty of Pandora, two souls from different worlds find themselves drawn together against all odds. Neteyam, the dutiful future olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya clan, is bound by the expectations of his people and the traditions of his ancestors. She, a human scientist with a love for Pandora’s wonders, sees herself as an outsider, unworthy of the connection she craves.

Tags: @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog, @ratchetprime211, @poppyseed1031, @redflashoftheleaf

Part 11: To ask

Part 12: To feel

The distant sound of wings slicing through the night still echoed faintly in your ears, long after Neteyam and his ikran had disappeared into the starry sky. You stood there, frozen in place, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as if to hold yourself together. The cool night air pressed against your skin, but your face burned, a betraying heat crawling up your neck and settling in your cheeks.

You could still feel the ghost of his touch—the brief, fleeting graze of his hand as he took the bag from yours. The warmth of his skin, the steadiness of his presence, lingered like a soft ache in your chest, a longing you didn’t know how to name. Your gaze was still fixed on the spot where he’d disappeared, your heart fluttering in a chaotic rhythm you couldn’t calm.

Behind you, Kate’s voice shattered the fragile silence.

“Wow,” Kate’s voice broke through the haze of your thoughts, her teasing tone slicing through the night air like a playful arrow. “I mean, I’ve seen people look lovesick before, but you’re taking it to a whole new level.”

Your head whipped toward her, heat rushing to your cheeks so fast you swore your face might catch fire. “What?” you sputtered, your voice higher-pitched than you intended. “I’m not— I wasn’t—”

She raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “You looked like a character from one of those old romance vids. All soft eyes and dreamy sighs, like he just galloped away on a white horse instead of flying off on a giant, terrifying death-bird.”

“I—what? No, I didn’t,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks grow impossibly hotter. “I was just... watching him leave. That’s all.”

Kate laughed, the sound bright and merciless. “Uh-huh. Sure. Watching him leave. With literal stars in your eyes. Girl, you are gone.”

Brian smirked, giving a small shake of his head. „You’re standing there like he just flew off to war and might never come back.”

Max didn’t say a word, but the twitch of his lips spoke volumes. Norm raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between you and the distant sky as if to say, Really?

You groaned, turning back toward the outpost to avoid their prying eyes. “I was just... making sure he took off safely. That’s all.”

Kate let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, okay. And I’m Eywa reincarnated. Sweetheart, you might as well have hearts floating around your head.”

“I hate you,” you muttered, your face burning.

“Oh, you love me,” Kate shot back, her grin widening. “But not as much as you love a certain tall, blue warrior, huh?”

You whipped around, your mortification growing. “Kate!”

Kate rolled her eyes, stepping closer with a theatrical sigh. “Listen, I get it,” she said, placing a hand dramatically over her chest. “He’s tall, blue, and brooding. It’s like the ultimate forbidden romance package. But girl...” She reached out and flicked your forehead gently. “Do you honestly not see how obvious it is?”

Your mouth opened, then closed. Words failed you, and all you could do was stare at her like she’d just grown a second head. “I—no, it’s not like that!” you sputtered finally, waving your hands. “He’s just—he’s just kind and helpful, that’s all.”

Kate groaned loudly, throwing her head back in mock despair. “Oh, Eywa, give me strength. She doesn’t even know she’s in love.”

Your stomach twisted, and your cheeks burned hotter. “Kate,” you hissed, glancing nervously at the others. “Could you not—”

Brian chuckled from behind her, his grin annoyingly wide. “She’s got a point. You looked ready to swoon.”

Norm shook his head, but there was a knowing smile tugging at his lips. Even Max, usually the most reserved, glanced at you with an amused look before turning back to the equipment.

“Guys,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we not make this a thing?”

Kate rolled her eyes so hard you thought they might fall out of her head. “Oh, please. You’re not fooling anyone, least of all yourself. You’re not just worried about him—you’re in love with him.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. “I’m not,” you said weakly, but even you could hear the lack of conviction in your voice.

“Yeah, you are,” Kate said bluntly, stepping closer. “And honestly? It’s written all over your face.”

“I—” You faltered, your heart pounding. “Even if I was, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like he could ever feel the same way.”

Kate groaned loudly, dragging her hand down her face in exasperation. “Are you serious right now? He literally just volunteered to fly into the middle of nowhere at night, for you. If that’s not a guy screaming ‘I care about you,’ then I don’t know what is.”

“That’s who he is. He helps people. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t mean anything?” Kate repeated, her voice rising. “Girl, have you seen the way he looks at you? The way he always makes sure you’re okay, or how he just happens to show up wherever you are? That man is smitten, and you’re too busy overthinking to see it.” Kate’s voice softened, but her determination didn’t waver. “You’re scared,” she said simply.

You froze, her words striking too close to home.

“You’re scared that if you tell him, he’ll pull away,” Kate continued, stepping beside you. “That it’ll change things, and you’ll lose him completely. But keeping this bottled up isn’t doing you any favors either.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I can’t risk it, Kate,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I can’t lose him. Not even as a friend.”

Kate sighed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I get it,” she said softly. “But you’re also risking losing something amazing by staying quiet. You think he doesn’t already know? He’s probably just waiting for you to give him a sign.”

Your throat tightened, and you shook your head. “And what if he doesn’t feel the same? What if I tell him, and it ruins everything?”

Kate hesitated, her voice gentler now. “Then at least you’ll know. At least you won’t spend the rest of your life wondering what could’ve been.”

The weight of her words settled heavily in your chest, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. The others had gone quiet, their knowing smiles fading into something softer, more understanding.

Your thoughts swirled in a chaotic mess of doubt and longing. Could Neteyam ever love you back? Did he already? Or were you just fooling yourself, letting your heart get carried away with something that could never be?

And yet, as you stood there, staring at the horizon where he’d disappeared, a small, rebellious part of you dared to hope.

Because no matter how much you tried to deny it, you couldn’t stop loving him. You couldn’t stop wanting more than stolen glances and fleeting touches.

But could you ever be brave enough to tell him?

“I don’t know, Kate,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can.”

Kate gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to decide right now,” she said. “But promise me you’ll at least think about it. Because I’ve seen the way you look at him, and trust me—he’s worth it.”

You nodded slowly, your gaze still fixed on the sky, though your heart was far from ready to face the truth. And yet, deep down, you knew Kate was right. It was only a matter of time before your feelings couldn’t be denied any longer.

The night air was crisp as Neteyam guided his ikran, Tawkami, through the skies. The twin moons cast a silvery glow over Pandora, illuminating the floating Hallelujah Mountains in the distance. The towering cliffs suspended in midair, connected by tendrils of glowing vines, looked almost unreal—a sight that never failed to stir awe, even in someone who had seen them countless times.

But tonight, Neteyam’s mind wasn’t focused on the beauty of his surroundings. His thoughts were firmly tethered to you.

He had barely thought before agreeing to your request. When you had looked at him, your wide eyes filled with that mix of nervousness and hope, the word "yes" had come out of his mouth before he could even consider the implications. And when you smiled—no, beamed—at him afterward, he felt like he’d been struck by lightning. Then there was the hug. Eywa, the hug. You had wrapped your arms around his neck, your tiny human frame pressing against him in a gesture so pure and joyful that it had completely unraveled him.

How could I have said no?

Tawkami let out a low trill, bringing him back to the present. Neteyam reached down, stroking the ikran’s neck reassuringly. “I know, girl. We’re almost there,” he murmured.

It’s for the research, he reminded himself, though the thought felt hollow. You had been careful to phrase it that way, to make it sound like this was about the team’s work and not about him doing something just for you. But Neteyam knew better. He had seen the nervous flicker in your gaze, the way your fingers twisted together as you waited for his answer. You didn’t want to burden him, but even if you had, he wouldn’t have cared. He would have done it anyway—because it was you.

When Lo’ak had found him preparing to leave the kelku at before midnight, his younger brother had been full of questions.

“Where are you going?” Lo’ak had asked, his tone teasing but curious. “Off to rescue the sky girl?”

Neteyam had ignored the jab, tightening the strap of his hunting knife around his waist. “I have something to do.”

Lo’ak had raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the doorway. “Something? At midnight? Let me guess—it has to do with her.”

Neteyam had shot him a warning look, but it only made Lo’ak grin wider. “You don’t even deny it anymore,” Lo’ak had said, his voice low but amused. “You’ve got it bad, big bro. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

Neteyam hadn’t replied, turning to leave instead. But Lo’ak’s words had lingered, echoing in his mind as he mounted Tawkami and took off into the night.

Now, as he approached the cliffs where the rare flower bloomed, his thoughts shifted back to the moment you hugged him. He hadn’t been prepared for it—the way you threw your arms around his neck, your smaller frame pressing against his as if he were the only safe place in the world. The warmth of your touch had spread through him like wildfire, leaving him rooted in place, unsure how to respond.

His arms had hovered awkwardly at first, his mind racing with questions. Should he hug you back? Would it be inappropriate? Would you think he was taking advantage? But then you’d squeezed him tighter, your joy spilling out in a way that felt so unguarded, so pure. It had undone him. Without thinking, his arms had wrapped around you, pulling you closer, his chest tightening with something he couldn’t name.

It had been... overwhelming. A rush of emotions he wasn’t prepared for. He could still feel the faint press of your fingers against his neck, the soft weight of your body leaning into his. The memory sent a flicker of warmth through him, one that he quickly tried to suppress.

The flight to the Hallelujah Mountains was long but uneventful, the familiar terrain passing beneath him like a living map. As he approached the floating peaks, his ikran let out a soft, eager chirp, its connection to him through tsaheylu buzzing faintly in his mind. Neteyam reached out, running a hand along the creature’s neck in silent reassurance.

The Hallelujah Mountains were breathtaking, even to him. He had flown through these peaks countless times, yet their beauty never failed to strike him. The floating islands were wreathed in mist, their sheer cliffs adorned with glowing plants that shimmered like stars in the moonlight. It was here, amidst this wonder, that the elusive ulo’ateya bloomed.

Neteyam’s gaze swept the landscape, searching for the faint glow of the flower you had described. Ulo’ateya, or Midnight Bloom you had called it, your voice soft with reverence as you explained its importance. It only bloomed at one night, its pale blue petals shimmering like liquid moonlight. It grew in the crevices of the cliffs, hidden from the sun’s harsh rays.

Finally, his sharp eyes caught a faint glow near the edge of a jagged rock formation. “There,” he murmured to Tawkami, guiding her toward the spot. She landed gracefully, her claws gripping the rocky surface with ease.

Neteyam dismounted, his movements fluid as he approached the glowing flower. It was smaller than he’d expected, its delicate petals unfurling like a star against the dark rock. He crouched low, his hands hovering over it as he tried to remember everything he had seen you do.

Neteyam had watched you work countless times over the past year, your focus unwavering as you handled your strange human tools. He had often wondered how you could be so meticulous, so patient, even when the forest around you hummed with life and distraction. Now, as he reached for the tools in the pack you had prepared for him, he realized just how foreign it all felt.

The sampling tray was awkwardly small in his hands, and the fine-tipped tool you’d included felt like it might snap under his grip. He frowned, his ears flicking back slightly as he tried to mimic the movements he had seen you perform. His large fingers struggled with the tiny instrument, and for a moment, frustration bubbled in his chest.

But then he thought of you—your careful instructions, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about the plants you studied. You had trusted him to do this. That thought steadied him, and he took a slow breath, adjusting his grip.

“Okay,” he muttered, carefully pulling out a pair of tweezers. They felt ridiculous in his hands, like trying to hold water with a net. But he adjusted his grip, focusing on the flower before him. He reached out, the tweezers clinking softly against the stem as he pinched it gently and clipped it free.

The flower was lighter than he expected, its glow pulsing faintly in the darkness. He placed it into one of the small containers, securing the lid with careful precision.

He repeated the process, moving from flower to flower, collecting samples with a focus he usually reserved for tracking prey. It was... strange, this work. It wasn’t like hunting or crafting, the skills he had mastered as a warrior. But it mattered to her.

How do you do this so easily? he wondered, his brow furrowing in concentration.

He gently clipped one of the flowers, placing it in the sample tray with as much care as he could manage. His hands felt too big, too rough for the task, but he pushed through, determined not to damage the fragile specimens. With each movement, he thought of you—how your hands moved so gracefully, how your focus was always unwavering. He had spent more time than he cared to admit watching you work, captivated by the way you seemed to lose yourself in the process.

Neteyam gathered several samples, ensuring they were secure before standing. He looked down at the glowing flowers for a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips. He had done it. It wasn’t perfect—he knew you would have done it better—but it would be enough.

The cool grass beneath you was damp with dew, but you hardly noticed. The blanket draped around your shoulders was meant to ward off the chill of the night, but it was more a comfort than a necessity. You sat cross-legged, gazing up at the vast expanse of the Pandoran sky, its twin moons casting soft light over the clearing. Stars blinked faintly, their light woven into the bioluminescent glow of the forest around you.

The outpost hummed faintly in the background, its lights a stark contrast to the natural beauty that surrounded it. But your attention was far from the familiar structure. You were waiting—for him. The team was already back in the outpost. You bet Norm and Max was already in the quarter, Brian in the rec room already sleeping and Kate is in the canteen trying to get a decent amount of coffee. Every passing minute stretched out, your thoughts tangled with equal parts excitement and worry.

He’ll be fine, you told yourself for what felt like the hundredth time. Neteyam knows the forest better than anyone. He’s careful, skilled. He promised he’d come back.

But the unease lingered. Your fingers toyed with the edge of the blanket, twisting it absently as your mind conjured scenarios you didn’t want to entertain. What if something happened? What if the forest’s dangers, no matter how familiar to him, caught him off guard? The thought made your chest tighten, and you exhaled slowly, trying to calm the storm of your thoughts.

The faint screech of wings snapped you out of your reverie, and your heart leapt as your eyes darted toward the sky. A shadow moved against the moons’ glow, growing larger as it descended. You rose to your feet instinctively, clutching the blanket around you, as Neteyam’s ikran came into view. Its sleek, powerful form glided effortlessly through the air, its patterns shimmering faintly in the dim light.

Relief flooded through you as they landed, the ikran’s claws gripping the earth with practiced ease. Neteyam dismounted in one fluid motion, his movements graceful even after what must have been an exhausting journey. The satchel holding the ulo’ateya samples hung securely at the ikran’s side, but it wasn’t the sight of the precious plant that made your chest swell with emotion—it was him. He was safe, unscathed, his golden eyes sharp and alert as they scanned the clearing before landing on you.

The blanket slipping slightly from your shoulders as you crossed the short distance to meet them. The ikran tilted its head, watching you with intelligent eyes, and let out a low, melodic chirp as you approached.

“You did such a good job,” you cooed softly, reaching out to stroke the ikran’s scaled neck. Its skin was cool and smooth under your fingers, and it leaned into your touch, letting out another pleased sound that made your heart swell. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”

Neteyam’s lips twitched into a faint grin as he watched the interaction, his tail swaying behind him.

“You’re back,” you breathed, a smile breaking across your face as you stepped closer.

Neteyam’s lips quirked into a small, tired smile. “I told you I would be.”

Your eyes flicked to the satchel, your heart lightening further. “You got the ulo’ateya,” you said, unable to hide the excitement in your voice. “That’s incredible.”

He nodded, glancing briefly at the bag. “It was difficult, but manageable.”

Relief and gratitude swirled within you, and you reached for the bag but hesitated, your gaze meeting his. “I don’t know how to thank you for this,” you said softly, your voice trembling with sincerity. “I can never repay you, but I’ll try.”

Neteyam tilted his head slightly, his ears flicking in a way you’d come to recognize as quiet amusement. “There is no debt between us,” he said simply, his tone gentle but firm.

You looked up at him, the weight of his words settling over you. There was a sincerity in his gaze that made your chest ache, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words to respond. The blanket slipped further down your shoulders as you stood there, caught in the warmth of his presence.

Neteyam’s expression shifted slightly, his ears twitching as he noticed your shivering. Without a word, he crouched down in front of you, his large frame folding with ease. His long fingers reached for the blanket, pulling it snugly around you with a tenderness that left you breathless.

“You shouldn’t be outside at night,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s cold.”

He reached for the blanket you’d let slip earlier, wrapping it around your shoulders with a care that made your heart ache. His hands lingered briefly, adjusting the fabric to ensure you were covered.

“There,” he said softly, his gaze meeting yours. “Better.”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words caught in your throat as he reached for your hand. His large, warm fingers engulfed your smaller palm, his touch gentle as he held it between his own. Your breath hitched as he brushed his thumb over your knuckles, the motion slow and deliberate.

“You worry too much, tanhì,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The word—tanhì—sent a shiver through you. It was the first time he had called you anything in Na’vi other than your name, and the endearment hung in the air between you, warm and intimate. Your eyes widened, searching his face for any hint of what he meant, but all you found was a quiet tenderness that made your heart ache.

“Neteyam...” you began, your voice trembling slightly, but you didn’t know how to finish. The intensity of his gaze, the warmth of his hand holding yours, left you feeling exposed, as though he could see every thought, every feeling you’d tried so hard to hide.

He tilted his head, his thumb still tracing slow circles over your knuckles. “What is it?” he asked, his voice soft, almost coaxing.

You shook your head, a small, shaky smile tugging at your lips. “Nothing,” you said, though your eyes betrayed you. They lingered on his, filled with a depth of emotion you couldn’t put into words.

His own gaze softened further, and for a moment, it felt as though the world around you had fallen away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet glow of Pandora’s night.

Neteyam guided Tawkami, through the cool night air, his sharp eyes scanning the clearing below as they neared the outpost. The twin moons bathed Pandora in silver light, illuminating the familiar structure nestled amidst the forest. The journey had been long, and his muscles ached from the tension of navigating the cliffs, but none of that mattered now. His focus, as it so often was these days, was on you.

The faint figure sitting near the edge of the clearing grew clearer as he descended, and his heart stirred at the sight of you. You were clutching a blanket around your shoulders, your face turned skyward, your eyes filled with anticipation. You were waiting for him.

His ikran landed gracefully, its claws digging into the earth with a practiced ease. Neteyam dismounted in one smooth motion, his movements quiet despite his fatigue. The satchel of ulo’ateya samples swung at Tawkami's side, a tangible reminder of the reason for this trip, but his thoughts were far from the delicate flowers he’d risked retrieving. His gaze fixed on you, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of his responsibilities, and the countless expectations placed upon him faded into the background. All he could see was you, your form glowing softly in the moonlight.

You crossed the short distance to meet him, the blanket slipping slightly from your shoulders. His ikran tilted its head, letting out a low, content chirp as you approached, and Neteyam’s lips curved into a faint grin. You cooed softly to the creature, your hand reaching out to stroke its scaled neck with such tenderness that it made something in Neteyam’s chest tighten.

“You did such a good job,” you murmured to Tawkami, your voice filled with genuine gratitude. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”

He watched as you soothed his ikran, your voice gentle and sincere. How was it that even his ikran, a creature that trusted only him, seemed to find comfort in your presence? Neteyam’s tail swayed unconsciously, a subtle sign of his own contentment as he took in the scene before him.

“You’re back,” you breathed, your voice carrying a smile that made his chest feel light, as if Eywa herself had blessed him in this moment.

“I told you I would be,” he replied softly, his voice steady despite the quiet storm inside him. His gaze flicked to the satchel at the side, and he nodded slightly. “It was difficult, but manageable.”

When your eyes lit up at the mention of the ulo’ateya, he felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the effort of his journey. You looked at him with such trust, such admiration, that it made the ache in his muscles vanish. How could he think of anything else—his place in the clan, his duties, his future—when you were standing before him, your sparkling eyes drawing him in like the light of the forest?

“I don’t know how to thank you for this,” you said, your voice trembling with sincerity. “I can never repay you, but I’ll try.”

Neteyam tilted his head slightly, his ears twitching as a small smile tugged at his lips. “There is no debt between us,” he said simply, his voice soft but firm. He meant it. You could ask him to climb every cliff in Pandora, to face every storm, and he would do so without hesitation. Not because of duty, not because of obligation, but because it was you. You trusted him enough to ask, and that trust was worth more to him than anything else.

As you looked up at him, the moonlight catching the faint glimmer in your eyes, he felt the familiar yearning settle deep in his chest. He wanted to tell you—to hold you and confess that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for you. That he didn’t care about the expectations placed on him, the traditions that dictated his future. But he couldn’t. The words caught in his throat, weighed down by the impossibility of it all. Instead, he watched you, memorizing every detail—the curve of your lips, the way the blanket framed your figure, the quiet strength in your gaze.

When he noticed the blanket slipping from your shoulders, he frowned slightly. The nights on Pandora could be cold, and though he knew you were stronger than you looked, he couldn’t stand the thought of you being uncomfortable. Without thinking, he crouched down in front of you, his large hands reaching for the fabric.

“You shouldn’t be outside at night,” he said, his tone gentle but with a hint of reprimand. “It’s cold.”

As he wrapped the blanket around you, his fingers brushed against your shoulders, and he lingered for a moment longer than necessary, adjusting the fabric to ensure you were fully covered. The softness of your skin beneath his touch sent a quiet thrill through him, but he forced himself to focus on the task, to keep his movements steady.

“There,” he said softly, his gaze meeting yours. “Better.”

You looked at him then, your eyes wide and filled with something he couldn’t quite name. Vulnerability, perhaps, or maybe gratitude. Whatever it was, it made him want to pull you closer, to shield you from every danger this world had to offer. But he held himself back, his hands retreating as he straightened.

Then, almost without realizing it, he reached for your hand. Your smaller palm fit so perfectly in his, and the warmth of your skin against his sent his heart racing. His thumb brushed over your knuckles in slow, deliberate circles, a motion he wasn’t sure was for your comfort or his own.

“You worry too much, tanhì,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

The word—tanhì—slipped out before he could stop it, and for a moment, he froze. It was a word he’d never used before, not for anyone. It meant "star" in Na’vi, a term of endearment reserved for someone who brought light into one’s life. And that’s what you were to him—his tanhì, his guiding star.

Your eyes widened, and he saw the question in them, the unspoken uncertainty. Did you know what it meant? Did you understand how much weight that single word carried?

“Neteyam...” you began, your voice trembling slightly, but you didn’t finish. Instead, you looked at him, your gaze filled with something so raw, so vulnerable, that it nearly undid him.

“What is it?” he asked, his thumb still tracing soft circles over your knuckles. He wanted to coax the words from you, to hear whatever was on your mind. But more than that, he wanted to hold this moment, to stretch it into forever.

You shook your head, a small, shaky smile tugging at your lips. “Nothing,” you said softly, though your eyes betrayed you. They lingered on his, filled with an emotion he dared not name but couldn’t ignore.

For a moment, the world around them fell away. The hum of the outpost, the distant sounds of the forest—everything faded, leaving only the two of them standing together under the twin moons. Neteyam couldn’t think of his responsibilities, his place in the clan, or the expectations that weighed on him. Not when you were here, looking at him like he was something more than just a warrior or a leader.

Not when you were looking at him like he was everything.

Part 13: To kiss

#avatar 2022 #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #james cameron avatar #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you

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