toraxtori

[toraxtori]

Uncharted Territory

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: During a study session that turns into something more, a simple kiss on the forehead unexpectedly leaves Eddie completely hot and bothered.

Tags: fluff, humor, teasing, implied praise kink, new couple, established relationship, first time, reader is sunshine incarnate, tender intimacy, virgin!Eddie Munson. No description of Reader. No mentions of Y/N.

A/N: This fic is inspired by this post by @sheneedsrocknroll92 , I thought it was funny and probably something that would happen to Eddie. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 1.8k

masterlist

You weren’t supposed to notice him.

Not in the way that mattered.

Eddie Munson knew his place at Hawkins High. Resident freak. Satanic panic poster boy. The kid teachers gave up on and parents warned their kids about. People stared, sure—but only long enough to whisper, then look away.

But you never looked away.

You smiled.

The first time was in the cafeteria. You were sitting with your friends, those pastel, soft-voiced types with glitter pens and locker decorations. You didn’t look like someone who would know his name, let alone say it. But when he passed your table, you lifted your head and smiled straight at him. Bright. Simple. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He almost dropped his tray.

The next day, you waved in the hallway. He looked behind him just to make sure it was actually for him. You laughed. Said, “Hi, Eddie!” like you’d done it a thousand times.

He spent the rest of the week convinced someone put you up to it.

Except… you kept doing it.

You showed up near his locker. Lingered near Hellfire with a soda and a snack in hand. Laughed at his dumb jokes even when no one else did. It was like you orbiting around his life was normal, like he didn’t have to prove he was worthy of it.

And that scared the hell out of him.

Because you were sunshine in a person. The kind of girl people opened up to without meaning to. The kind who said things like “you look handsome today” with complete sincerity, not even knowing the chaos it would cause in someone like him. Eddie was used to being mocked, dismissed, at best tolerated. You were different.

The scary part was how fast he got used to it.

He started looking forward to you. Every hallway run-in. Every shared lunch on the bleachers. Every time you curled your fingers around his wrist like it was no big deal. And then, the moment that flipped his world upside down—you kissed his cheek and said:

“I like you, Eddie. Just putting that out there.”

Then you smiled and walked off like you didn’t just detonate a bomb in his chest.

It took him a week to build the courage. A week of sweaty palms and bad dreams and practicing in the mirror. Then he found you after school, heart in his throat, and said something completely idiotic like, “I also like. You. Like-you. You, I like.”

You just grinned, slid your fingers into his, and said, “Cool. Because I think we look good together.”

Like it was that simple.

And, god, maybe it was.

You made it easy.

Eddie had no idea what the hell he was doing. You were his first everything. First kiss. First girlfriend. First person to call him “baby” like it belonged to him. He thought he’d mess it up. He still thinks that, sometimes. But you’ve never once made him feel like he was falling behind.

You make him feel… like he could be good at this.

You play with his hair when he’s sprawled out on your couch. You cheer for him when he wins boss fights in Hellfire, even though you barely understand what’s going on. You bring him peanut butter M&M’s and wear his Hellfire shirt, even though it’s baggy on you and smells like his cologne. And you hold his hand like it’s just what people do.

He doesn’t always know how to respond. He’s still learning. Sometimes his brain fries when you lean into his side or call him “pretty boy.” But he loves the way you look at him when you do.

Like he’s something precious.

Like he’s not some loser hiding behind loud clothes and louder words.

And two months in, Eddie Munson is still stunned every single day that he gets to have you.

That someone like you wanted someone like him.

That maybe—just maybe—he’s not entirely unlovable after all.

It’s late afternoon and the sun is doing that lazy golden thing through Eddie’s window, casting long, warm streaks across his bed. The two of you are sitting cross-legged on the mattress, notebooks and worksheets spread in a hopeless mess between you. Eddie’s handwriting is still a disaster, half the math problems are half-finished, and somehow there’s a doodle of a dragon in the corner of the page.

You should be annoyed.

But instead, you’re beaming.

“Okay,” you say, tapping your pencil against your knee. “You didn’t totally flunk that one. That’s, like, a B-minus effort. Maybe even a solid B. I’m proud of you.”

Eddie groans, flopping back dramatically on the bed. “I got five out of twelve, sweetheart.”

You raise an eyebrow, grinning. “You got two right last week. That’s progress.”

He peeks at you through his hair. “Baby steps, huh?”

“Exactly.” You crawl closer, lifting a hand to brush the bangs from his forehead. He freezes beneath your touch, a familiar stiffness he still hasn’t grown out of. It’s not discomfort—it’s reverence. Like he still doesn’t understand how you touch him so gently, like you don’t think twice about it.

You lean in and press a soft kiss to his forehead.

Simple. Sweet. Warm.

And that’s when it happens.

You pull back like nothing’s changed. But Eddie is suddenly dead quiet. His body tenses, his arms shoot around his torso like he’s guarding something, and before you can even blink, he’s curling up into himself like a human shield.

“Eddie?”

He lets out a strained noise. High-pitched. Embarrassed. “Yeah, no—I’m good. Just. Just need a minute. Maybe a few minutes. Don’t look at me.”

You blink. “Wait… are you—?”

“Don’t say it.”

“…Did a forehead kiss really just—?”

“Don’t say it,” he groans, pulling a pillow into his lap like it’s a weapon, dragging one of his old Metallica hoodies across himself in record time. His ears are bright red. His hair’s a mess from how fast he moved. He looks like he’s about to combust.

And you… start laughing.

Not cruel, not mean. Just startled, delighted giggles spilling out before you can stop them. Because this boy—this five-ten, metal-loving, D&D-obsessed chaos gremlin—just got hot and bothered over a forehead kiss.

“Oh my god,” you wheeze, wiping your eyes. “You poor thing.”

He groans again, flopping backward like he’s dying. “You don’t understand. It was too sweet. Too nice. My brain short-circuited. I didn’t even know that could happen.”

You slide closer, biting your lip to suppress another laugh. “Eddie, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay! You just kissed my head and now I’m having a hormonal crisis. That’s not normal. People don’t just do that.”

“Actually,” you say gently, brushing your fingers through his curls, “they do. It’s just that most people don’t feel everything all at once like you do.”

You duck your head until your forehead rests against his. “It’s okay, Eddie. I love that about you.”

He stares at you. Flustered. Overwhelmed. And still very much refusing to move his pillow.

“…Okay, but like, next time maybe warn me before doing something that affectionate.”

You didn’t stop smiling.

Even after his dramatics. Even after he tried hiding under the pillow like it was a shield from the embarrassment of having a boner caused by a forehead kiss. You just kept looking at him like he was the cutest thing in the world.

Which, unfortunately, did not help his current situation.

You leaned over him, voice light and teasing. “Y’know… this is kinda flattering.”

He peeked up. “You’re flattered?”

“Yeah,” you giggled, poking his ribs gently. “It’s nice to know I can wreck you that easily.”

Eddie let out a low, half-strangled groan. “You are so unfair.”

“I’m very fair,” you said, tilting your head. “I just didn’t expect forehead kisses to be your weakness.”

“It’s not,” he muttered. “It wasn’t. It—god, I don’t know, it felt like you were taking care of me.”

You stilled a little at that. Your voice softened. “Well… I was.”

He looked up at you.

You bit your lip thoughtfully, then reached down, brushing your fingers through his curls. “You know… I could keep doing that. Taking care of you.”

Eddie blinked. “Wh—what, like… now?”

You nodded. Your voice was calm, careful. “If you want. We don’t have to. But if you do want… I’ll be gentle. I’ll go slow. I just want you to feel good.”

Eddie swallowed hard, pupils blown, breath catching in his chest. He was pretty sure his brain had left his body a few minutes ago. You were so soft, so sweet, so stupidly beautiful, and you were looking at him like he was the precious one.

“Okay,” he said, voice low. “Yeah. I… want you to.”

You smiled at him like that was the best answer he could’ve given.

“Alright, baby,” you whispered, removing the pillow and climbed into his lap with slow, careful movements.

Eddie’s hands found your waist instinctively, holding you like you might vanish if he let go. You brushed your nose against his, pressing a light kiss to his lips first—then another, and another, deeper each time.

It started slow. Gentle.

Then his fingers tightened.

Then your hips rolled.

And by the time his head tipped back against the pillow, both of you breathless and warm, you were rocking slowly together, hips bumping in a soft rhythm, mouths never parting for long.

Your hands cupped his face.

His arms circled your waist.

And the world outside his bedroom melted away as you kissed him deeper—teaching him, guiding him, loving him like no one ever had.

Eddie was still staring at the ceiling when you flopped beside him with a satisfied sigh, your limbs brushing his.

There was a long pause.

Then, in a dazed voice, he mumbled, “I think I saw God.”

You burst out laughing, burying your face into his shoulder.

He turned to you, blinking slowly, curls a mess, skin flushed pink across the cheeks and down his chest. “Like. I’m serious. She looked just like you. But like—glowier.”

You nudged his side with a grin. “Are you trying to flirt with me after we had sex?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “Because now I really don’t want you to leave me.”

You laughed again, kissing the tip of his nose. “Baby, I’ve been your girlfriend for two months.”

“Yeah, but now I feel like I need to propose. Or like, write a ballad. Or get your name tattooed on my—”

“Eddie.”

“I’m kidding. Mostly. Unless you think the tattoo thing is hot. I’ll do it.”

You rolled your eyes, cuddling into his chest. “You are absolutely ridiculous.”

He let out a breathy chuckle and pulled the blanket over both of you, his arms curling around your shoulders. “Ridiculous and lucky.”

You smiled into his skin, fingers drawing slow shapes across his ribs. “You did great, baby.”

There was a pause.

Then, a groan. “Don’t say that again right now.”

“Why not?” you asked innocently, already giggling.

“Because last time you said that, I got bodily betrayed, and I don’t know if I’ve got the energy to recover twice in one night.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Okay, okay. I’ll let you rest… for now.”

“Threat noted,” he muttered, but he was smiling—broad and crooked and deeply in love.

And so were you.

[toraxtori]

Out of Step, In Sync

Pairing: Eddie Munson X F!Reader

Summary: After a disappointing prom night, you stumble into an unexpected conversation behind the gym with Eddie Munson—Hawkins’ favorite scapegoat and misunderstood metalhead. What starts as a casual talk over a shared escape turns into something else unexpected.

Tags: Fluff, pure fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, honestly yall will need a dentist, SFW, mutual pining, developing relationship, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, prom, dancing, 80s sci-fi references, no upside-down. No descriptions of reader. No mentions of Y/N

A/N: Yeah, you know me, I love a good 'ol fluff, I needed to feel something. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 8.4k

masterlist

You didn’t even bother glancing back.

The bass from the gym echoed down the corridor, muffled and distant, like a heartbeat you weren’t part of. Glitter clung to your dress and your shoes pinched with every step, but you didn’t care. The heels were coming off soon anyway. The air back here was cooler, quieter, less drenched in Aqua Net and teenage desperation. You welcomed it like an old friend.

You weren’t angry. Not even a little heartbroken. Just… done. Your so-called prom date was slow dancing with some girl from his chem class—too close, too familiar—but honestly? It was a relief. The two of you had nothing in common, and you’d spent most of the evening counting down the songs until you could leave without it being “a thing.”

Now, finally, you were alone.

You pushed the heavy double doors open and stepped out into the cool night. The gym’s back lot was empty, save for a few leftover streamers fluttering from a fence post. You sighed, breathing in the crisp air. Somewhere in the distance, a cicada buzzed lazily.

Then you caught it—the scent of smoke.

Cigarette smoke.

You turned your head and there he was, half-shadowed by the building’s edge, denim jacket draped over a worn prom tee, black slacks like he hadn’t tried at all—and still somehow made it work. Eddie Munson, leaning against the brick wall like the whole world bored him to tears.

He raised an eyebrow when he noticed you, but didn’t say anything at first. Just took another drag and watched you with a crooked smile.

“Well, well,” he said finally, voice low and amused. “Didn’t peg you for a backdoor escape artist.”

You crossed your arms, smirking. “Didn’t peg you for someone who’d show up at prom.”

He shrugged. “Had to see it to believe it. The glitter. The heartbreak. The emotional meltdowns. It’s like a zoo in there.”

You laughed, the first real one of the night. It caught you off guard.

He flicked ash off the end of his cigarette and nodded toward the gym. “So. Who do I have to thank for you gracing the back alley with your presence?”

You tilted your head. “My date’s dancing with someone else.”

Eddie winced dramatically. “Oof. Harsh.”

“Nah,” you said, leaning against the wall beside him. “We had the chemistry of a wet sponge. I’m just glad he realized it before I had to fake a bathroom emergency.”

He chuckled, and it sounded honest. Warm.

“Well,” he said, holding the cigarette out like an offering, “welcome to the land of misfit prom-goers.”

You eyed the cigarette, then shook your head. “I’ll pass. But thanks, ambassador of the misfits.”

Eddie grinned, sliding it back between his lips. “Suit yourself.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt kind of… easy. The thump of music behind you became background noise, like it belonged to another world. You looked out across the empty lot, then back at him.

“So what about you?” you asked. “Didn’t have a date either?”

Eddie snorted. “Please. Can you imagine me at a formal dinner with someone’s mom taking pictures? Nah. I’m just here for the chaos. Thought I’d maybe sneak in, spike the punch, throw a few firecrackers—y’know, the classics—but someone already beat me to it. So now I’m stuck lurking like a gremlin in the shadows.”

You laughed again, easier this time. “Well, you wear the gremlin look well.”

He placed a hand on his chest. “High praise.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. Just quiet. Peaceful. Like the noise of the gym didn’t even exist out here.

You twirled the cigarette in your fingers. “I used to think you were all noise, y’know,” you said without really thinking. “Like, loud music and heavy boots and wild hair.”

“I mean, I am all of those things,” he said, raising a brow.

“Sure,” you said. “But I don’t know… I think there’s more to it.”

He looked at you for a second, like he was trying to read your mind. Then he smiled. “Alright. Your turn. Tell me something about you that’d surprise me.”

You thought about it. Then, what the hell.

“I like science fiction. Books. Comics, too.”

Eddie blinked. “What?”

You shrugged, suddenly a little self-conscious. “Yeah. I mean… it’s not something I talk about. People think it’s weird.”

“Okay, hold on.” He straightened up, suddenly animated. “What kind of sci-fi? Like, classic stuff or weird future dystopia stuff?”

“Both,” you said, grinning despite yourself. “Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov. And there’s this one graphic novel series I’ve been obsessed with—The Long Tomorrow. You probably haven’t heard of it.”

Eddie’s mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me? Moebius is a god. That gritty noir-future vibe? That’s, like, the blueprint for half my D&D campaigns.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait, you like Moebius?”

“Like him? I worship him. I have The Airtight Garage under my mattress so my uncle doesn’t ‘accidentally’ throw it out during one of his cleaning sprees.”

You couldn’t stop smiling now. “That’s ridiculous.”

He pointed at you with his cigarette. “You’re ridiculous. All this time I thought you were just another prom queen in disguise and now you’re telling me you’re secretly a sci-fi nerd?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not a prom queen.”

“No,” he said, grinning. “You’re way cooler.”

The compliment caught you off guard. There was no smirk behind it, no teasing edge—just honesty. His eyes lingered on yours, and for the first time all night, you felt seen. Not dressed up, not performing, just you.

“Guess we both had the wrong idea,” you said quietly.

He nodded. “Guess so.”

And just like that, the space between you didn’t feel so distant anymore.

You both stood there for a while, trading stories—about favorite books, childhood cartoons, and how utterly overrated prom was. You were surprised how much you had in common. Maybe not in how you moved through the world, but in the way you looked at it. Like both of you were on the outside looking in, only now you had company.

Through the slightly cracked door, a new song filtered out. Faint but unmistakable.

“I wanna know what love is…”

You glanced back toward the gym. The colored lights flickered just beyond the windows, a blur of red and blue. The music carried more clearly now, bleeding into the cool night air like some kind of cosmic joke.

Eddie took another drag, then stubbed out the cigarette under his boot. “You should go back in,” he said after a moment, flicking ash from his fingertips. “It’s prom. Go dance with someone. Someone who doesn’t hang out behind dumpsters and make fun of the decorations.”

You tilted your head at him. “You mean someone boring?”

He gave a breathy laugh. “Someone who won’t get you judged by, like, the entire social hierarchy of Hawkins High.”

You shrugged. “I already got ditched by my date. What’s the worst they can do? Gasp?”

Eddie smiled, but his eyes drifted back toward the glowing gym windows. “Still… I’m not exactly prom royalty.”

“Well, neither am I,” you said. “So maybe that’s the point.”

He didn’t answer. Just rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking unsure of himself for the first time that night.

You tilted your head again, studying him. “You know,” you said slowly, “you could go dance too.”

Eddie barked a short laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He held up his hands, surrender-style. “I can’t dance. I mean it. Like, at all. I’ve got rhythm when I’m playing guitar, but put me on a dance floor and I look like I’m dodging bees.”

You stared at him for a moment. Then something wild and impulsive bubbled up inside you.

You stepped forward, just close enough to be a little dangerous.

“Okay,” you said, lifting an eyebrow. “So don’t go on the dance floor.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Stay right here. Dance with me.”

Eddie straightened slightly, like he wasn’t sure he heard you right. “Are you… serious?”

You nodded, smiling now. “I’ll guide you. You don’t have to know how. Just follow me.”

He hesitated. And for a second, you thought he’d say no. But then, slowly, like he was afraid the moment might break if he moved too fast, he took your hand.

His fingers were warm. Calloused. A little shaky.

You placed his other hand at your waist, your free hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

The music swelled behind you, soft and sweet and full of yearning.

“…and I want you to show me…”

You started to sway, just a little. Nothing fancy. Just moving to the rhythm, simple and easy.

“Okay,” you said, voice low. “Just match me. That’s it.”

Eddie watched your feet like they held all the answers in the universe, but he followed. Awkwardly at first. Then with a little more confidence. Then a little more.

He looked up at you, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re really doing this.”

“So are you.”

And under the stars, with music bleeding out from a world that didn’t quite fit either of you, Eddie Munson danced.

With you.

You didn’t let go.

And for the life of him, Eddie couldn’t understand why.

Your dress swaying slightly in the night breeze, and you were holding his hand. Guiding him like this was just some normal thing people did — like you weren’t the kind of girl who was supposed to laugh behind your locker with friends in matching dresses. Like you weren’t way too pretty, too bright, too out-of-his-league to be caught slow dancing with the town freak behind a gym full of people who’d never get it.

But there you were. Smiling at him like he wasn’t a joke. Like he wasn’t just a rumor in black denim.

And all Eddie could do was follow your lead.

You moved gently, no pressure. Just a simple sway. His hand was on your waist, and he could feel your heartbeat through the fabric, could feel the way your fingers gripped his just enough to ground him. Like you knew he was seconds away from spinning off the planet.

How was this real?

For once, Eddie Munson wasn’t putting on a show or throwing up middle fingers at the world. He wasn’t posturing or mocking or performing.

He was just here.

Dancing with you under the stars, to a song he didn’t even like, and somehow? It felt like the most honest thing he’d ever done.

The ride home was quiet, but not the awkward kind. The good kind. The kind that settled between the two of you like a blanket, warm and easy.

Eddie’s van rumbled softly down the back roads, headlights cutting through the dark. Your heels were in your lap, your feet bare and curled up on the seat, glitter still dusting your legs. The leftover makeup smudged slightly beneath your eyes, but you didn’t care. Neither did he.

He kept glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking. You noticed, but you didn’t say anything.

The radio played something soft—some late-night ballad that felt a little too on the nose—but neither of you reached out to change the station. It kind of fit.

When he finally pulled up in front of your house, the engine idled low, casting the porch in pale yellow light. You didn’t move at first. Neither did he.

You turned to him, your voice softer than it had been all night. “Thanks for the ride.”

He looked at you, really looked at you, and gave a small, genuine nod. “Yeah. Of course.”

You opened the door, about to step out, then hesitated.

“And… thanks for earlier,” you added, eyes meeting his. “I actually had fun tonight.”

His brows lifted, surprised. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “Yeah. Like… more than I’ve had in a while.”

Eddie’s fingers drummed once on the steering wheel. “That’s kinda sad,” he teased. “But I’ll take it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade.

He watched you for a second longer, eyes darker in the dim light. “You’re not what I expected,” he said, quietly.

You tilted your head. “Good unexpected?”

He shrugged, but there was something softer in the way he looked at you now. “Yeah. Definitely.”

You nodded slowly, then stepped down from the van. The door thunked shut behind you, but you lingered at the curb, turning back one last time.

“See you Monday?”

He grinned. “I’ll be the one getting detention.���

You laughed, backing toward your porch.

And he stayed there, parked under the streetlight, watching you go—wondering what the hell just happened, and why he kind of, maybe, really wanted it to happen again.

Monday’s cafeteria buzzed with leftover prom talk—who wore what, who threw up in the parking lot, and who was already regretting their choice of date. You sat with your usual group, a tray of barely-touched food in front of you, picking at a soggy fry as your friends swapped stories.

“I swear, if I hear more stories of Lisa and Charlie slow dancing, I’ll puke,” one of them groaned.

“I heard Jeff cried during I Wanna Know What Love Is,” another snorted.

You chuckled under your breath, but you were only half-listening. Your thoughts were still stuck somewhere in the quiet part of Friday night—lit by stars, wrapped in soft music and Eddie Munson’s uncertain hands.

“Okay,” said Courtney, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin, “tell us. What happened with you? You disappeared after ten.”

Your stomach did a small flip. “I, uh… went outside for some air.”

“That long?” someone chimed in. “Didn’t your date ditch you?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. But it was mutual, kinda. No chemistry.”

Courtney raised an eyebrow. “So what, you just wandered off?”

You hesitated, then decided to own it.

“I ran into Eddie Munson. We talked for a while.”

The table quieted. You didn’t miss the way someone blinked. Or the small, uncomfortable scoff.

“Wait—Eddie Munson?” said one of the girls, drawing out his name like it tasted wrong. “As in… Hellfire Club, Eddie?”

You looked up, steady. “Yeah.”

“Oh my god,” another said under her breath. “Isn’t he like… failing half his classes?”

“I heard he might repeat senior year again,” someone else added. “That’s like—what, his third time?”

You set down your fry and leaned back a little. “So what?”

That shut them up for a beat.

You looked around the table. “He was nice. We talked. We danced. It was actually… fun.”

Courtney blinked at you, like she couldn’t quite process it. “You danced with Eddie Munson?”

You smiled. “Yeah. He’s different than people think.”

They exchanged a few glances, probably trying to figure out if you were serious, but you didn’t give them room to argue. You just went back to your tray, casual but firm.

You didn’t owe them anything else.

And when they finally moved on to a different story, you let your mind drift again—back to Eddie’s hands, awkward and warm in yours, and the way he’d smiled like no one had ever looked at him the way you had.

The final bell rang and the halls of Hawkins High exploded with noise—slamming lockers, shouted goodbyes, the usual stampede toward the exit. You were pulling out your books, ready to head home, when a familiar mop of messy curls came into view.

Eddie.

He almost walked past, arms full of binders and that damn lunchbox of his, but then he spotted you. His grin bloomed instantly.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite prom partner,” he said, walking backward in front of you with dramatic flair.

You snorted. “I’m your only prom partner.”

“Details,” he waved off, turning to walk beside you. “Still the best.”

You shook your head, trying not to smile too wide, but it was hard. He kept cracking jokes—half of them dumb, some surprisingly clever, all of them weirdly charming. By the time you reached the front doors, you were laughing hard enough to forget about the weight of your backpack or the way people stared.

Outside, the sun was still high, casting golden light over the parking lot. You lingered near the bike racks, and Eddie rocked back on his heels, suddenly looking like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.

He scratched the back of his neck. “So, uh…”

You raised an eyebrow.

“You doing anything right now?”

You blinked. “Not really. Why?”

His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. “Wanna get milkshakes or something?”

You tilted your head, amused. “Are you asking me out?”

“What? No!” he said quickly, eyes wide. “I mean—not that you’re not—ugh.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “Not like a date date, just, y’know. A post-school, ice-cream-adjacent hangout. Very casual. Extremely non-threatening.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “You’re doing a terrible job of making it sound casual.”

He groaned. “God, I know.”

You paused for a second. Then smiled.

“Yeah. Let’s get milkshakes.”

Eddie blinked. “Wait—really?”

“Really,” you said, starting to walk again, this time toward his van. You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Do I get to pick the music in your van?”

He placed a hand over his heart, mock wounded. “Absolutely not. But you can control the windows.”

Lunchtime in the cafeteria. Same old gray plastic trays, same mystery meat, same half-hearted arguments about campaign rules. Eddie was halfway through explaining, for the third time, why rolling a nat 1 on perception doesn’t mean you automatically get eaten by a mimic, when something—or rather, someone—stepped into his line of vision.

You.

He blinked up at you, startled. You were holding something. A piece of paper, no—thicker than that. Watercolor paper.

You thrust it out toward him before he could even say hi.

“I, um… I made this.”

Eddie looked down.

It was a watercolor painting. Bold, messy brush strokes in warm and murky tones. And there, standing like some strange cosmic king, was Major Grubert from The Airtight Garage. Rendered with this dreamy, layered energy—loose and vivid, with little gold details that shimmered when they caught the light.

“You painted this?” he asked, dumbfounded.

You nodded quickly, already looking like you regretted everything. “I don’t know. It’s dumb. I just— You said you liked the comic, and I was painting for art club, and I thought maybe you’d—”

He stared at you.

You stared at the floor.

“Anyway,” you rushed, already backing up. “You don’t have to keep it or anything. I just—yeah, okay, bye.”

And then you turned on your heel and disappeared between the tables, like a mirage, gone as fast as you came.

For a second, Eddie didn’t move. His tray sat forgotten, and the painting was still in his hands.

“What the hell was that?” said Gareth.

Jeff leaned over, squinting. “Is that… art?”

“Holy crap,” said one of the freshmen, eyes wide. “Did she just give you that? Like, a gift?”

“I think she did,” Eddie murmured.

He was still staring at it. Still stunned.

Because it wasn’t just the painting—though that alone was cool as hell—it was the fact that you made it for him. That you remembered that offhand comment about The Airtight Garage from days ago. That you painted this weird little sci-fi character, and thought of him while doing it.

It was… a lot.

Eddie cleared his throat, trying to shake the dazed look off his face. “Shut up,” he mumbled, carefully sliding the painting into his binder like it was made of glass. “None of you get it. It’s called being interesting, you cretins.”

They didn’t stop staring.

Gareth leaned over the table. “Dude. Seriously. What was that?”

Doug raised an eyebrow. “Did you hex her or something?”

“Shut up,” Eddie muttered, still guarding the painting like it was top-secret government property. He shoved it deeper into his binder, then clapped it shut with a loud snap.

“You’ve been weird all week,” Jeff pointed out.

“Yeah, man,” Gareth said, gesturing wildly. “You’ve been, like… smiley. It’s freaky.”

Eddie sighed like a man defeated, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Fine,” he mumbled, keeping his voice low. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me eat my damn lunch?”

They all nodded in rapid, eager unison.

Eddie leaned forward slightly. “We danced at prom.”

The table went silent.

“What?” Gareth blinked. “Who did?”

“Me and her,” Eddie said, voice a little more defensive now. “It just kind of… happened. She came outside. We talked. She offered. I didn’t step on her feet. Miracle of the decade.”

“She asked you to dance?” Jeff repeated, stunned.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yes, Jeff. It’s not that hard to believe.”

“It’s just—she’s, like… art club. Social. Normal,” said Doug.

“And I’m a freak,” Eddie finished, not angrily—just matter-of-fact. “Yeah, yeah. I know. That’s the whole thing, right?”

They all exchanged awkward glances.

Eddie softened a little. “We’ve just been talking since then. That’s all. She’s cool. Funny. Into sci-fi stuff. And apparently, she paints really badass cosmic generals in her spare time.”

The group went quiet again, but this time with a slightly different energy.

Jeff nodded slowly. “Huh.”

“Damn,” Gareth muttered. “Did not see that coming.”

Eddie shrugged, leaning back in his seat and finally stabbing at his lunch. “Neither did I.”

But under the table, his fingers tapped quietly on his knee—restless in that weird, hopeful way.

Because yeah… he didn’t see it coming.

Your room looked like a clothing explosion.

Jeans on the bed. A skirt on the floor. Three different tops draped over your chair. You stared into the mirror, adjusting the neckline of your favorite shirt for what had to be the fourth time, then gave up and let out a groan.

It wasn’t a date.

Not officially.

But still.

Eddie had asked you yesterday—Eddie Munson, king of chains, dice, and anti-establishment rants—if you wanted to go to the new Starcourt Mall. He’d said it kind of awkwardly, like the words felt weird in his mouth. Then he’d doubled down with, “I mean, I hate malls, they’re corporate brain rot, but if you’re there too, I guess I won’t spontaneously combust.”

Which, translated from Eddie-speak, meant: I want to spend time with you, and I’m doing something completely out of character because it might make you smile.

So yeah. Maybe it was a date.

You adjusted your hair again, spritzed the tiniest bit of perfume, and gave yourself one last once-over. Just polished enough to show you cared—but not so much it looked like you were trying. Hopefully.

A soft knock on your door pulled you back to Earth.

Your mom peeked in, eyes twinkling.

“Sweetie?”

“Yeah?”

She pushed the door open with a hand on her hip and an expression halfway between curiosity and polite judgment. “There’s a young man waiting downstairs for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “He’s early?”

She shrugged. “Five minutes. Maybe he was excited.”

You tried to hide your smile as you turned back to the mirror, smoothing down the hem of your nicest top. Not fancy fancy — just enough to look like you put in effort. It wasn’t every day Eddie Munson asked someone to hang out somewhere as un-Eddie as the Starcourt Mall.

You were flattered. And a little impressed. He was trying.

Your mom lingered by the doorway, arms crossed loosely now.

“You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.”

You paused, lip gloss wand hovering in the air. “I’m not. We’re just… hanging out.”

She arched a brow. “Uh-huh.”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. “I mean it.”

“Well,” she said, pushing off the doorframe. “He’s… not what I expected.”

You turned slowly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Leather jacket. Messy hair. Rings on every finger. He’s got a… rough-around-the-edges thing.” She shrugged. “I didn’t peg him as your type.”

You hesitated. “Is that a problem?”

She raised her hands. “Not for me. Just... interesting choice.”

Then, softening, she added, “But he stood up when I walked in. Called me ma’am. And he didn’t look at the family photos weird, so… he’s alright in my book.”

You blinked. “Wow. High praise.”

“I’m just saying,” she smiled. “You could’ve warned me you brought home a James Dean type.”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time you were grinning. “He’s not like that.”

“If you say so.”

With that, she turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t leave him waiting too long—he keeps checking his watch.”

Your heart fluttered.

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror—quick swipe of gloss, tuck of hair behind your ear—and grabbed your bag.

You didn’t expect Eddie Munson to know his way around a shopping mall.

And to be fair… he didn’t.

From the moment you stepped into Starcourt’s fluorescent glow, he looked like a vampire in daylight—eyes squinting, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, muttering about “late-stage capitalism” like the air itself offended him.

“This place smells like fabric softener and broken dreams,” he declared as you passed an Orange Julius stand.

You grinned. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, or I’d have already burst into flames.”

But despite all his grumbling, he stuck close. Arm brushing yours. Slowing down when you lingered in shop windows. Letting you tug him toward places you knew he’d secretly like—like the comic shop tucked near the food court, where he perked up at the sight of a rare Swamp Thing issue and ended up ranting, passionately, about horror art for ten straight minutes.

After that, it all got easier.

He let you drag him through a novelty store, where he made you try on glittery heart-shaped sunglasses and nearly bought a lava lamp “just because.” At Sam Goody, you flipped through cassette tapes while he made dramatic gagging noises at pop albums and then—when he thought you weren’t looking—quietly bought a Bowie tape because you mentioned liking one song.

Somewhere between Cinnabon and Spencer’s, your arms brushed again.

And this time, he didn’t move away.

Instead, he offered his elbow in that silly, exaggerated way, like some knight escorting royalty through battle. You rolled your eyes but linked arms anyway.

You didn’t unlink for a while.

When you passed the photobooth, it was your idea.

“C’mon,” you said, already tugging at his sleeve. “We have to. It’s practically a law.”

“I hate pictures,” he protested.

“Too bad.”

He grumbled, but followed.

The booth curtain smelled like static and old gum, and the light inside was way too bright. But Eddie slid in beside you anyway, pressing his knee against yours in the cramped space.

The timer beeped.

First photo, a blur of you both, too late to pose.

Second photo, you were smiling, he was sticking his tongue out.

Third, he turned his head and said something just as the flash went off, so his mouth was frozen mid-word and you were laughing.

Fourth, he looked at you. Really looked. And you looked back, cheeks warm. And for that one second, neither of you made a face.

That last one made your stomach flutter.

The strip slid out a few seconds later, still warm from the machine. You both leaned over it, smiling like idiots.

“I’m keeping this one,” you said, pointing to the last shot.

“No way. That’s the best one.” He mock-whined. “It’s mine now.”

“Split it,” you said, already reaching for it. “Even trade.”

So you carefully tore it down the middle, each of you keeping two little squares. You tucked yours into your wallet. He stuffed his into the pocket of his jacket like it was something worth keeping safe.

After that, you shared a cherry slushie and browsed the record store. You ended up on one of the benches near the fountain, your shoulders bumping gently as you sat.

Eddie kicked at the tile with the toe of his boot. “Okay, confession,” he said, not looking at you. “This was kinda fun.”

You smiled. “Even though it’s a capitalist wasteland?”

He grinned. “Especially because of that. I got to rant and be dramatic and walk around with a pretty girl on my arm. All the core Eddie Munson needs.”

You laughed and leaned your head against his shoulder.

And you didn’t say it out loud, but in your pocket, the photo strip pressed between your wallet like proof:

Something was happening between you.

And it felt really, really good.

The smell of acrylic paint alingered in the air, windows cracked just enough to let in the late afternoon breeze. You sat cross-legged on a stool, paintbrush in hand, blotting a soft gradient of pink across the corner of your sketchbook while your friends chatted around you.

“So then Brad says he didn’t cheat, he just ‘accidentally’ kissed her,” Courtney said, rolling her eyes as she rinsed a brush in a cloudy jar of water. “Like that’s a thing.”

“Classic,” Angela muttered. “Men are such a disease.”

You hummed in vague agreement, still focused on blending your colors. It wasn’t until Courtney nudged your foot under the table that you looked up.

“Okay, but you had that smug little look on your face when you walked in,” she said. “So. Tells us. What did you do this weekend?”

You paused.

Then smiled. Just a little. “I went to the mall.”

“Ugh, I live there,” Angela said. “With who?”

“…Eddie.”

Courtney blinked. “Eddie Munson?”

Angela dropped her pencil. “Seriously?”

You shifted in your seat, brushing a spot of paint from your thumb. “Yeah.”

They exchanged a glance, the kind that was just a little too loaded. “Are you—like—serious with him?” Courtney asked, a bit cautiously.

You looked down at your sketchbook.

The memory hit you fast and warm—Eddie, leaning back on a food court bench, drumming his fingers against his knee and grinning every time your hand brushed his. The way his face softened when he looked at you, like he couldn’t believe you were real. The photobooth picture in your wallet, folded so carefully it was starting to wear at the edges.

You swallowed, eyes flicking back up.

“I don’t know yet,” you said honestly. “But… maybe.”

Courtney raised a brow. “I mean, he’s kind of—”

“Different,” Angela finished for her. “Like, not who we thought you’d be into.”

You let out a breath, not defensive—just tired of that tone.

“He’s actually really sweet,” you said. “He listens when I talk. He cares about stuff. He remembered I liked a random song and went back for the tape the next day. He’s not what you think he is.”

The girls went quiet for a second.

Then Courtney shrugged. “Okay. I mean, if you like him.”

“I do,” you said quietly, adding a final brushstroke to your page. “More than I thought I would.”

Angela cracked a smile. “Well… if he breaks your heart, we’re egging his van.”

You laughed. “Deal.”

The library was louder than usual—not in noise, but in energy. Stress hung thick in the air, like a storm cloud hovering over every student hunched at their tables. Pages flipped, pencils scratched, the occasional frustrated sigh echoed off the stone walls. It was exam season.

Eddie Munson was in hell.

His science textbook lay open in front of him, untouched for the last ten minutes. His notebook was empty, save for a rough sketch of a dragon flipping off a periodic table. He tapped his pencil against his lip, eyes unfocused, legs jittering under the table.

This wasn’t his place. He hated the cold lighting, the itchy silence, the way it all felt like it was judging him for every gap in his knowledge.

And then you walked in.

Like sunlight in a storm.

You made your way across the room, dodging backpacks and tangled limbs, carrying your bag against your hip and a calm expression that made it look like you weren’t drowning in deadlines and formulas. You spotted him, gave a little wave, and sat down across from him.

“Hey,” you said softly.

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath all day. “Hey.”

You glanced at the disaster zone of his table—crumpled notes, half-drawn doodles, an empty soda cup with a chewed straw—and smiled.

“Rough day?”

Eddie dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m about five minutes away from faking my own death and starting a new life as a gas station poet in Ohio.”

You laughed, but it softened quickly as you reached into your bag and pulled something out: a clean, colorful folder. It had your name written neatly on the corner, and sticky notes poking from the sides like a rainbow spine.

You slid it across the table toward him. “These are my notes. For science. And history. And… okay, maybe I got carried away.”

He blinked. “You—”

“They’re color-coded. Definitions are in blue. Equations are pink. Anything our teachers stressed in class is highlighted. I even made flashcards, they’re in the back pocket.”

Eddie just stared at it.

Not because he didn’t want it. But because something about it felt… personal. Intimate.

No one had ever done something like this for him before.

You fiddled with the edge of your sleeve. “I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb. But they helped me. I figured maybe they’d help you too.”

He reached out slowly, fingers brushing the cover. Then, reverently, he opened it.

It was like walking into your mind. Your handwriting curled neatly over page after page. You’d drawn little diagrams. Circled key dates. There was even a little cartoon mitochondrion wearing sunglasses on one page.

He swallowed.

“This is…” he said quietly, still flipping pages. “This is incredible.”

You shrugged, trying not to blush. “Just thought you could use a little help.”

Eddie didn’t respond right away. He just sat there, running his thumb along the edge of one of the pages like it might disappear if he let go.

Then he looked up at you. Not with the usual teasing smile or lazy smirk.

He looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

“I swear to god,” he said, voice low and serious, “if you keep being this perfect, I’m gonna have to make you mine.”

Your heart stuttered.

You blinked, stunned—but not in a bad way. Just… surprised by the weight of those words, how much they didn’t sound like a joke.

You recovered with a half-smile. “You should probably focus on passing chemistry first.”

“Baby, I’m failing chemistry because you walk into the room and all the atoms in my brain rearrange.”

You laughed, covering your face for a second. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It’s emotional science,” he insisted. “Way more complicated.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth wouldn’t leave your cheeks.

He closed it gently, like he was sealing up treasure.

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it.

“Of course,” you replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve been helping me too. Just in a different way.”

Eddie tilted his head. “Oh yeah? How?”

You looked at him, and this time, didn’t hesitate. “You make me feel like I don’t have to hide the weird parts of myself.”

Eddie’s eyes softened.

“I’d riot if you did.”

You were digging through your locker for your pencil pouch when you heard it—footsteps, pounding fast down the hallway, like someone was being chased. You didn’t even look up until a voice you knew all too well shouted your name like it was a fire alarm.

“Hey!”

You turned just in time to see Eddie Munson nearly skid on the polished floor as he sprinted toward you, hair wild, jacket flapping behind him like a cape.

He nearly collided with the locker beside yours, bracing himself with one hand, breath coming in quick bursts.

“Eddie—what—?”

“I passed,” he said, eyes bright and disbelieving. “I passed.”

It took you a second to register what he meant. “Wait—like... everything?”

He nodded, grinning so hard his face looked like it might split open. “Everything. Math, English, science—Mrs. Miller gave me a D-minus, but that’s still a D! That’s still passing!”

You dropped your books onto the floor without even caring.

“Eddie, that’s amazing!”

And before you knew what you were doing, you threw your arms around him.

He laughed into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you clean off the floor for a second, spinning once with the wildness of it all.

“I had to tell you first,” he said, voice muffled in your hair. “I ran here.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face. His cheeks were flushed, lips parted, eyes shining with something that looked way more intense than just pride.

He looked at you like you were the sun after months of rain.

“Seriously, I never would’ve made it without you,” he said. “Those notes? Those flash cards? The dumb acronyms you made up so I could remember physics formulas—”

“They weren’t dumb,” you said, laughing.

“They were adorable,” he corrected, like it was obvious. “And apparently effective.”

His hands were still on your waist. Yours were curled into his jacket without you noticing. Your faces were close—closer than usual. And you saw it flicker across his face—something unspoken, something about to break through.

And then it did.

He kissed you.

No hesitation, no stammering this time. Just a sharp inhale, and then his lips were on yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t polished or practiced—it was a kiss powered by sheer joy, by the rush of success and the comfort of you, by everything he’d been holding back. His hands slid from your waist up to your jaw, cradling your face like he couldn’t believe this was real.

And the thing was—you didn’t stop him.

You didn’t pull away.

You kissed him back, arms looping around his shoulders, grounding him, steadying him in the middle of this ridiculous, beautiful rush.

When he finally pulled away, your faces still close, you could feel his breath fanning your lips, still uneven.

You stared at him, slightly dazed, your pulse thundering in your ears.

“…You didn’t plan that, did you?” you asked, voice half-breathless, half-amused.

Eddie gave the softest little laugh, head leaning against yours for a second as he caught his breath.

“Not even a little,” he said. “I think I blacked out after I said ‘I passed.’”

You shook your head, cheeks burning in the best way.

He grinned, wild and flushed and completely Eddie. “You’re gonna be so sick of me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

And you didn’t even have to think about it.

Because if this—this chaotic, sweet, completely unfiltered boy—was the reward at the end of every academic achievement?

You’d tutor him forever.

“Eddie’s here,” your mom called from the hallway, her voice light and knowing.

You looked up from the mirror, heart skipping just a little.

Your dad’s voice followed a beat later from the living room. “Tell him to keep it under 60 this time.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately as you grabbed your bag. “He only sped once, and that was because we were late for grad practice.”

“He was going eighty,” your dad replied.

“It was downhill,” you said, already headed for the door.

You passed your mom in the hall, and she gave you a soft smile. “He brought flowers. Again.”

You couldn’t help the way your smile grew.

When you stepped outside, the warm air wrapped around you like a blanket. The sun was still high, the cicadas buzzing lazily in the trees, and there he was—leaning against his van like he belonged there, a bouquet of mismatched wildflowers in one hand, the other shoved into the pocket of his worn jeans.

He looked up the second he heard the screen door creak.

And you swear, even now, after everything, he still looked at you like it was the first time.

“There she is,” he said, grinning wide.

You walked up to him, arms crossing just to keep yourself from doing something embarrassing, like swooning. “What’s the occasion?”

Eddie held out the flowers. “Just celebrating the fact that I somehow tricked the universe into giving me a girlfriend this amazing.”

You rolled your eyes, taking them anyway. “You’re ridiculous.”

He leaned closer, voice low and smug. “And yet… here you are.”

You bumped his shoulder with yours, but your smile gave you away.

He opened the passenger door for you with an exaggerated bow. “M’lady.”

“Such a gentleman,” you muttered, climbing in.

As he circled the van to the driver’s side, your dad stepped out onto the porch with a glass of coffee and a suspicious glare.

Eddie gave a little wave and a crooked smile. “Sir. Swear I’ll have her back by ten. Eleven max. No stunt driving this time.”

Your dad just raised an eyebrow.

Eddie slid into the driver’s seat, shutting the door and pulling on his seatbelt. “He loves me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” you said as he started the engine.

“So,” he said, flicking the stereo on low, “this theater just started showing Back to the Future. Two days early, somehow. I figured a little time travel with you sounded better than melting in my room watching The Evil Dead for the twelfth time.”

You laughed and gave him a look. “You just want to see the DeLorean.”

“…Okay, also that.”

He reached over and laced your fingers with his, resting your joined hands on the bench seat between you.

The van rumbled down the sunlit road, windows cracked open, the summer air carrying in the scent of grass and gasoline. Your hair danced in the breeze. Eddie hummed along to whatever cassette was playing—a little out of tune, but you didn’t mind.

Not when his thumb kept tracing slow circles over the back of your hand.

Not when the entire summer felt like it was unfolding in front of you like something sacred.

And as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, grinning like you were the best part of the world—

You thought maybe you were right where you were supposed to be.

The mall was alive with its usual symphony—chatter, synth-pop from overhead speakers, the distant ding of arcade machines, and the occasional whir of the fountain in the food court. You and Eddie split off the moment you stepped into the theater’s cool, air-conditioned lobby.

“I’m getting the tickets,” he said, already headed toward the box office.

“And I’m getting snacks,” you said before he could argue, already turning for the concession stand. “Don’t fight me on this, Munson.”

He shot you a mock glare over his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re predictable.”

When you met back up, he handed you a single stub—he’d already torn them and given the other to the usher. You handed him a large bucket of popcorn and a cherry Icee with two straws.

Eddie blinked. “You got two straws in my Coke?”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s our Coke now.”

His heart may have done a ridiculous little flip at that, but he just grinned and led the way inside.

The theater was dark and cool, the trailers already rolling as you found seats near the middle—close enough to feel immersed but far enough that you weren’t cranking your neck. Eddie set the popcorn between you, but you curled into his side instead, slipping your hand into the crook of his arm and resting your head gently on his shoulder.

He stilled for half a second, surprised by the contact—he never quite got used to the way you just… leaned into him like that. Like it was easy. Like it was safe.

“You comfortable?” he whispered, glancing down.

You nodded without looking up, your voice soft. “Perfect.”

When the movie began, the glow of the screen lit your faces in blues and oranges and whites. You quietly giggled at the opening scene, nudging Eddie every time something ridiculous happened—he whispered a sarcastic comment back each time, just enough to make you cover your mouth to stifle laughter.

At one point, he reached into the popcorn bucket and accidentally brushed your hand. You didn’t move away. Neither did he.

When Marty McFly first hit 1955, you leaned closer, eyes wide with wonder. Eddie didn’t say anything—just smiled a little to himself, letting you rest there, your head warm on his shoulder, your heartbeat syncing quietly with the slow, steady thrum of his.

And in the dark, surrounded by strangers and movie magic, Eddie Munson let himself imagine—just for a moment—what it might be like to have this forever.

The van rolled to a quiet stop in front of your house, headlights casting soft beams across the porch. The movie was long over and the cassette in the stereo had looped twice already.

Neither of you moved.

You glanced at Eddie with a small smile, fingers nervously picking at the edge of your sleeve. “Thanks for tonight. I had fun.”

He turned toward you, his hand resting on the steering wheel. “Yeah? Me too. That was…” He looked at you like he was still a little surprised this was real. “That was a good night.”

You both laughed at how underwhelming that sounded.

“I mean—great night,” he amended, mock-dramatic. “One for the ages.”

You shook your head, biting your lip to hide your smile. “Come on, rockstar. Walk me to the door?”

Eddie hopped out first and came around the van, opening your door like he always did—even when you rolled your eyes at him for it. The night air was warm but quieter now, the street still and bathed in porchlight glow. You walked side by side up the driveway, close enough that your arms brushed.

At the bottom step, you turned to face him.

Eddie scratched the back of his neck, shifting on his feet like he wanted to say something more but couldn’t find the words. “I, uh… hope this wasn’t too boring. You know the mall and a movie isn’t exactly my usual scene.”

You shook your head. “I loved it. And… I like seeing different sides of you.”

That got a smile out of him. A real one. Small, warm, a little shy.

You stood there for another beat, the silence stretching out but never uncomfortable. Just full—like both of you were hoping time would slow down.

“Well…” you started, tilting your head toward the door.

“Yeah,” he said. “Guess this is—”

You kissed him.

Soft and certain. You leaned in first, lips brushing his with the kind of ease that only came with practice and care. He melted into it instantly, one hand slipping to your waist, the other steadying him against the railing like the whole world had narrowed down to just this.

When you finally pulled away, your noses were still almost touching.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whispered.

He blinked, dazed. “Goodnight.”

You stepped inside with a smile still tugging at your lips, and the second you closed the door behind you—

“That was quite the kiss.”

You jumped. Your mom was standing in the kitchen, sipping tea with your dad, both of them clearly having witnessed the entire thing from the window.

“Did he trip over the step again?” your dad asked casually. “He always does that when he’s nervous.”

You groaned. “You two seriously have nothing better to do?”

Your mom just smirked, eyes twinkling. “We like seeing you happy.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning, but you couldn’t stop the grin from breaking through.

Because yeah… you were happy.

Dating Eddie Munson is nothing like you expected—and everything you didn’t know you needed.

It’s loud music in his van, the kind that rattles the floorboards and makes you laugh when he drums on the steering wheel like the world’s watching. It’s his leather jacket slung over your shoulders when the air turns cold, his rings cool against your skin when he reaches for your hand. It’s messy hair, wild ideas, and the way he always walks on the outside of the sidewalk, like it means something.

It’s learning to love the chaos, and realizing that under all that noise and bravado, Eddie’s just… gentle. Thoughtful. Unbelievably loyal.

Dating Eddie is getting a cassette made just for you—your name scribbled on the label, each song chosen because it reminds him of you. It’s him sitting beside you while you paint, trying not to move too much even though he’s definitely itching to fidget. It’s him reading the comics you lend him, even the weird ones, just so he can talk to you about them later.

It’s milkshakes and movie nights and the kind of laughter that makes your chest hurt. It’s long drives with no destination, arms dangling out the window, his voice carrying through the breeze as he sings along—terribly—to some over-the-top power ballad.

It feels like a plot twist Eddie Munson never saw coming.

He thought he knew how his story would go—misunderstood metalhead, high school dropout, maybe famous one day if he got lucky. But then you happened. And now every chapter feels rewritten.

It’s surreal, honestly.

You—who used to feel so out of reach—actually laugh at his stupid impressions and roll your eyes in that way that kills him, but never walk away. You sit next to him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You hold his hand like you mean it. That alone blows his mind.

It’s the way you look at him like he's not some town freak. Like he’s not a rumor or a punchline or a lost cause.

Like he’s enough.

He'll go to every goddamn mall just to see you smile under neon lights, taking photos in a booth he secretly keeps in his wallet, and pretending not to blush when your head rests on his shoulder during a movie.

Dating you, to Eddie, feels like finding out the world isn’t as cruel as he thought it was.

It’s not always easy. He still worries he’s not good enough for you, that you’ll wake up one day and see what everyone else says they see. But you never flinch. You just keep showing up. Keep choosing him.

And he’d burn down the whole world just to deserve you a little more.

Yeah. Dating you?

It’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to him.

[toraxtori]

Art by J.R.R. Tolkien

[toraxtori]

“always trust your intuition” my brother in christ I have overwhelming anxiety

[toraxtori]

ever since i was a little girl i’ve been awkward and embarrassing

[toraxtori]

his messy hair 😳

bonus:

[toraxtori]

voltei pra cá, vou tentar atualizar frequentemente

[toraxtori]

vou morrer.

[toraxtori]

eu tô com a mesma sensação

espero estar errada

[toraxtori]

tô fudidamente apaixonada por ela.

[toraxtori]

nunca mais falei por aqui né

[toraxtori]

May the dead walk again

Summary: Your foster fathers, Max and Norm present you with an avatar, an early birthday gift and it feels like the weight of the world has been simultaneously listed and placed on your shoulders. After running into a Na'vi boy, you're taken to the Omaticaya and given the chance to become one of the people, your friend's older brother being the one to teach you.

Pairing: Neteyam x Avatar!reader

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings/notes: mentions of death, depression, angst, fluff, development of platonic/familial relationships, Spider tries, Protective!Norm, foster family in the lab, the beginning was written when i was sleep deprived, slowburn, slight enemies to lovers, Neteyam and reader are in denial

series master list | Would stardust fix us? Part one.

The Na’vi say that everyone is born twice, it’s a metaphor for young Na’vi going through their iknimaya and earning their place in the clan, but sometimes you wish it was more than that. You pray to Eywa, a god, a mother you’ve never known, and doubt will ever feel, that when you die you will get reborn. Maybe you’re manifesting an early demise, but you cannot bring yourself to care.  

You will die, everyone does, your death has just always been by your side, its weight enveloping you in a suffocating embrace, plaguing your life with its entire being.  

So, you pray to be reborn, into a body with legs that will carry you across the planet you were born on yet never get to see, with a heart that will beat steady as you run, with lungs that will breathe in the deadly air that you crave to feel blowing on your skin.  

You sit in one of the chairs, knees to your chest hunched over as you read one of Grace’s logs. You keep your eyes glued to the screen even as you hear the decompression chamber going off. You hear the chatter of your brother and friends as they enter the lab, you don’t have to turn around to know that the quick footsteps are Kiri running over to see her mother in the Amnio tank. 

Large hands rest on your shoulders from behind as Lo’ak leans over to look at the computer you’re reading on. “Watcha reading about this time?” he asks, amusement in his voice. You rest your head against his forearm.  

“Razor palm” you answer, you see him tilt his head in confusion out of the corner of your eye. “pxiut” you add.  He thinks for a moment before shaking his head “px-iu-t" he drawls, showing you the correct pronunciation.  

“pxiut” you state, correctly this time. He grins and pats your shoulder before pulling back and turning to lean on the desk. Spider walks up and glances at your screen, he leans in inspecting the image and shrugs. “My drawing was better” He grins. 

You roll your eyes and smile “Oh definitely, the detail you had?” you tease, dramatically doing a ‘chef’s kiss’ motion. Spider playfully smacks the side of your head and backs away, turning to walk to Kiri. You turn your attention back to the screen, reading about the plant.  

The world of Pandora always fascinated you, the plants and animals that resided on the planet captured your eye from a young age. You grew up staring out the windows of the biolab into the world beyond, once you learned to read, your birthday gifts were always wider access to all the files they had about pandora, from the process of its discovery to the day-to-day experiments Max runs.  

You never stepped foot outside the lab doors though, you barely even stepped outside your room. When you were younger, you’d pester Spider about what he saw, making him describe each plant and animal in detail. He’d oblige you, staying up late telling you stories of his adventures, he even started drawing plants he found. It was the closest you got to the world beyond, your obsession with anything and everything Pandora growing with each moment you could feel the presence of what laid beyond the walls. 

Lo’ak watches as you pay full attention to the screen in front of you, completely absorbed in your own world. He taps on the desk to get your attention. “So, the little hideaway is finally out of her room huh?” he teases, your eyes flutter to him before going back to the screen. “Don’t get used to it” you mumble. 

He chuckles, “I haven’t seen you in a few weeks, what's new?” he leans forward, keeping his eyes on you. You shrug “Not much, I looked over the test samples Norm collected, nothing you’d be interested in though” you explain, leaning back into the chair as you looked at him.  

Lo’ak scrunches his nose “It seems like that’s all you do now” you nod, he huffs “But you don’t even go outside, you’re so obsessed with the world, but you don’t even know what it looks like up close.” You give him a look before turning back to your computer. 

You’ve heard him complain about your lack of interest in seeing Pandora many times before, it confused him how your brother couldn’t stay in the forest long enough while you were rarely seen outside of your room. Truthfully, all you wanted was to see the forest, touch the grass and soil like your brother does, climb through trees and hear the sounds of nature. It was something you desperately wanted but never let yourself indulge in, knowing that once you got a taste, nothing would ever be enough, limited by your very being. 

But all you tell Lo’ak is you’d much rather research it than see it. He rolls his eyes and pushes off from the desk, you sigh in relief, assuming the barrage is over, but you yelp when Lo’ak grabs the back of the rolly chair and pulls you out and to the middle of the lab, spinning you so that you face Kiri and Spider. 

“Sister! You cannot possibly be ok with Y/n living her life like a-… what does dad call it?” He leans over the chair, braids falling in front of you as he faces you upside down “A hermit.” he states. You frown swatting at his braids, beads clicking together as they collide.  

“Lo’ak leave her alone” Kiri pushes at his head so he is no longer engulfing you, she places a hand on your shoulder for comfort. Lo’ak frowns “What? You have always been on my side about this”  

Kiri rolls her eyes “Yes, and I still am, but this is no longer about Y/n going outside, this is about your pride and ego.” She states, pulling your chair forward, out of his grasp “seeing who can get the other to falter” Kiri was always a firm believer that you needed to see Pandora, but she took a much more careful approach than Lo’ak, telling you about it’s beauty and encouraging you much like a mother coaxing her child into taking their first steps. 

You look up to Kiri who’s raising her eyebrows at Lo’ak, you hear Lo’ak grumble before she pulls back, satisfied with her victory. You look past her, making eye contact with Spider, you raise your brows, and he nods. He climbs off the tank Grace stays in and shoos Kiri and Lo’ak away, taking a hold of your chair and rolling you back to your desk. 

Your friends weren’t unaware of your condition, but you didn’t like the faces they made when they saw it affect you firsthand, how they’d walk on eggshells around you. So, Spider would always cover you, finding some way to get the attention off you or get you out of the room. 

“Just let Y/n do her thing, you’re gonna make her retreat back to her little hideout” he teases lamely, ruffling your hair. You stick your tongue out at him, but smile, placing your hand on his in a way to say thank you.  

The past few weeks, whenever you stood up or walked, you’d feel like you were going to faint and would need several minutes to recover and stabilize, hence your lack of presence whenever the Sully kids visited. Of course Spider would brush off their worry and tell this it you were just being moody, wanting to be alone, or getting in a fight. But you could only be gone so long without raising suspicion. 

You tune out your friends as they bicker, trying to read the rest of the report but your mind was flooded with thoughts. You glance to the corner of your screen, looking at the time. Norm and Max would be back at any moment, and they will throw a fit if they find you out of your bed. 

You think for a minute, weighing your options. Norm wasn’t subtle about his worry for you, nor was he good at hiding your condition from others. If he came back now, there’s no guarantee he’d get the memo to keep Lo’ak and Kiri out of the loop. If you got up now, you’d no doubt cause worry, they’re already suspicious about your disappearance the past few weeks. But, Lo’ak and Kiri don’t actually know much about humans, you could always blame your adverse reaction on dehydration or not eating anything. 

You thought for a moment before pushing away from the desk and standing up, you groan as you feel your head swirl, limbs suddenly feeling like jello. Within a second, Spider’s at your side, placing himself under your arm to support you. 

You throw your head back groaning, Kiri and Lo’ak are at your side asking questions, running their hands across your arm and forehead. “M’fine, just dehydrated” you mumble as Spider starts to lead you away.  

Kiri starts to fuss at you about taking care of yourself when you hear the decompression door opening. Before you can react, you hear Norm calling out your name. You groan at the loud noise, a lump forming in your throat. There goes your plan. 

Norm and Max rush over, Spider transfers you to them, Norm fully picking you up in his arms. “What are you doing outside of your room? You know how unstable you are right now” He fusses. You groan “M’fine Norm” Your head is throbbing, your eyes screw shut and your tongue feels heavy and numb in your mouth. 

“What do you mean unstable?” Lo’ak presses, stepping forward to inspect you. You open your eyes, frowning. “I’m fine Lo’ak, they’re just being dramatic” you swat at him, shaking your head. 

“Y/n you look like you’re going to pass out, I don’t think you’re fine” he retorts, raising his brows. You look to Max hoping he’d help your case, but he just shrugs “You need rest Y/n” he explains. You roll your eyes and shake your head, pushing at Norm’s chest to be let down. 

“I can take care of myself” you state, embarrassed at the commotion your foster fathers were making. Norm grunts and starts walking out of the room, ignoring the questions your friends keep asking. He makes it to the back of the building before you notice everyone following you, Spider catching up and telling Max something you can’t make out. 

Before you know it, you’re being laid down on your bed and Max is making quick work of the medication and equipment kept by your bed. You sit up as Max wraps a blood pressure monitor around your arm, huffing as Norm places a hand on your forehead. He points Spider to the pack of water bottles they keep by your nightstand; he grabs one and hands it to Norm who quickly opens it and presses it to your lips. 

“Ok ok that’s enough” you announce, leaning back away from the bottle. “I know you think I'm helpless but I'm not, I'm almost 18, not a baby” you state, glaring at the scientist. “Well Y/n when you can’t even stay in bed long enough to recover, what else are we supposed to do?” He retorts. 

Your furrow your brows, rolling your eyes “I’ve been cooped up back here my entire life, I think one day outside of the room I haven’t left in three weeks is fine” you mumble, looking to Kiri and Lo’ak who are peeking in through your door. Norm follows your gaze, his expression softening when he lands on the Sully kids. He looks back to you as you avert your gaze, pursing your lips. 

Sighing, he turns and walks towards the Na’vi kids. “Y/n is fine, she got sick a few weeks ago and we didn’t know what it was so it was a hard recovery” he explains “But we have a better handle on it now, she just needs some water and rest and she’ll be ok” he watches as they glance to each other, worry spread across their face. 

They look to you before retreating, murmuring to each other. You bring your knees to your chest, burying your face into your arms. Spider crawls over you, sitting on your side, wrapping an arm around you.  

You take deep breaths, pinching your eyes shut. After a moment Max takes the monitor off you and his hand takes its place. “Get some rest Bug, it’s the fastest way to recover” he squeezes your arm before standing up, he places a quick kiss on the top of your head and walks out. 

Norm watches you for a second and sighs, ruffling your hair and walking out, closing the door behind him. You don’t lift your head even after they leave, so Spider rests his head on your shoulder.  

Even as a kid you felt uneasy about others knowing your condition, there was no way to completely hide it so you settled with avoiding the topic all together. You were sick, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna die if they breathe on you too hard or say something too loud. Hell, not even Spider knows the full extent to your condition. It already controlled every aspect of your life, the least you wanted was to have some sense of a normal social life. 

After a moment you turn your head just enough to peak your eyes out to see Spider, he notices and makes eye contact, a soft expression passing over his face. “What did you see?” you mumble, barely audible. He chuckles, leaning back against your headrest.  

“Well Lo’ak decided to ride a Pa’li, it was the first time i saw their resting place and there were so many pitcher plants, Pa’liwll Kiri says” he explains, quietly you repeat the name, running through the catalogs in your head for a visual. “Oh and we saw an ‘angtsik from above…” he continues, describing what seemed to be a once in a lifetime adventure for you when for him, it was every other day. 

You listen as he laughs and gets sidetracked, making jabs at Lo’ak’s ability to ride a direhorse or shoot an arrow. You finally lifted your head to laugh when he told you about Tuk cursing in front of Neytiri, courtesy of Lo’ak not being able to keep his mouth shut. Spider took the chance to pinch your cheek, earning a slap on the hand.  

“Oh and Neteyam was pissed at Lo’ak when he saw a scar on Tuk’s cheek” Your ears perk at the name, curious about the boy you rarely heard about. You had never met Neteyam, he had never come to the lab. 

He was older than you but younger than Spider, and you had only ever heard offhand comments about him. Neteyam, the next Olo’eyktan and the golden child that outshined Lo’ak, the perfect soldier and a mighty warrior. He’s everything the first son of Toruk Makto should be, born with his life laid out before him. 

You saw Lo’ak’s envy of him, how he slowly lost his desire to be like his brother, evident in the change from admiration to resentment when he spoke of him throughout the years.  

You were once desperate to meet the brother your friends often spoke of, but as years passed and his presence stayed a ghost, you resigned yourself to only knowing him through word of mouth. When you were young, Lo’ak and Spider would talk about how cool he was, how fun and great he was with a bow.  

Now, all you hear is how busy he is, how he just does his father's bidding and has abandoned spending time with his siblings for training. You take their word for it, how could you not? You’ve never met the boy and you can see the toll their strained relationship with their brother has taken on Kiri and Lo’ak.  

But there's two sides to every story, you know that all too well. 

“What does he look like?” the words slip out before you can have a second thought. Your voice is barely above a whisper, you hope that your foster brother didn’t hear you, but it’s crushed when you hear him hum.  

“He looks like Lo’ak, but more like his mom. Ummm yknow yellow eyes and his hair is braided back, so it doesn’t hang down in his face like Lo’ak and Kiri.” He looks up to the ceiling, trying to recall the boy’s appearance as best he could considering it’s not something he actively takes note of. “he’s pretty tall, but then again all Na’vi are compared to us” he chuckles, nudging your side. 

“Oh, and Lo’ak looks a little more human than him, his nose is flatter, and he has three fingers” he states, leaning against you. “uuuum yeah, he’s really stoic though, he doesn’t talk much and when he does, he’s so serious” 

It makes sense, you think, being the Olo’eyktans first son and having a brother like Lo’ak, it wouldn’t be easy to be laid back. You tilt your head at the weak description your brother provides, he was never a great storyteller, even with years of experience, recounting every detail of his day by your bedside at night. 

His words are interrupted by a yawn that escapes from his mouth, he continues on with his sentence, but you pat his shoulder, his words trail off. “It’s late Spider, you should get to bed” you whisper, a reassuring smile gracing your lips. 

He searches your eyes for a moment, you haven’t had much time together lately and he always feels guilty about leaving you alone in the lab for too long. After a moment he nods, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead before leaping up and out of the room. 

- 

It’s been hours since the lab went quiet, the Sully kids long gone and your foster family asleep. Your eyes twitch, the lack of sleep weighing them down. You stare out the window, moonlight shining on your face. 

For all your life you stared out this window, the shining stars burning into your skin.  

You’ve memorized the stars, the patterns and the order, years of searing each star into your mind. You read about constellations when you were young, the ones visible from earth, it amazed you, the stories behind just a star. Every night you’d search the sky in hopes of finding a constellation, you found ones that were close but just not right. It upset you, you knew the story of Orion and Delphius like the back of your hand, you had drawn, and memorized Hercules and Perseus a thousand times so why could you not find them? 

It all came a head one night when you tried to leave the lab, convinced that the glass of your window and the limited view were the source of your inability to draw the lines in the stars above you. Max caught you as you were trying to reach for the handle to the decompression chamber, oxygen mask thrown on flimsily and still in your pjs.  

You whined about wanting to see the stars, insisting that the window was distorting them somehow, it took some prying, but he made the connection that you wanted to see constellations. You were upset to find out that those constellations aren’t visible from Pandora, but you were content, curious about what the skies of Pandora did hold. 

You started to make your own, disfigured shapes and hours mapping out the stars. Each one was a story, a life you created, a life you wanted. Norm and Max knew of your hobby, even wanting to hear the stories you came up with, but you refused. 

It was too personal.  

It was something for you and just you. 

You rest your head against the cold glass, eyes straining to the sky, avoiding the jungle that lay beyond the clearing. 

You hear the footsteps, the way he hesitates to intrude before opening the door. 

“Y/n...” His voice is modulated, quiet and clear. You don’t turn to look at him, keeping your eyes on the dots littering the sky. 

Carefully, he walks over, sitting on the edge of your bed, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I was going to wait till morning to tell you but since you’re still up...” You move your eyes, looking at your foster father without making an effort to move your body, as if you’d crumble and break at any movement. 

He holds your gaze, unsure of where you are. 

“I’d like to show you something” He states, coaxing you out of your trance. Max stands in your doorway, making his presence known when Norm’s advances seemed to make no progress. You look down, fiddling with your fingers before leaning to Norm.  

He takes your hand and helps you up. “It’s a surprise” Max quips in a sing song way as Norm places his hand over your eyes. Internally, you roll your eyes, your lips curling into a smile as you chuckle. You let the two lead you out of your room, you try to make sense of where you’re going but you get lost at just a few turns in. 

You want to scold the two men, accuse them of purposely going slow when they come to a sudden stop. 

you keep your eyes closed for a second, even after Norm takes his hands away from your face. “It’s a little early” Max breaks the silence “but we thought you’d like to put it to use sooner rather than later” Your confusion from his words quickly disappears as you open your eyes, your sight landing on an amnio tank. 

You gasp as you take in the sight. An avatar floats in the tank, jerking and fidgeting. The face on the avatar was you. Your body, your face, molded into that of a Na’vi. You try to speak but your tongue falls short, mind racing and tripping over words. 

“Happy early 18th birthday” they say in unison, amused by your shock. 

“How” is all you manage to get out. A soft chuckle leaves the two men's lips. “Well, it took a long time, our tech isn’t as good as it was before the RDA left” Norm explained, patting you on the back. 

“But we managed, your indifference to anything but your computer helped keep it a secret” Max added, chuckling. 

Slowly you creep towards the tank, eyebrows furrowing as you take in the figure. It was surreal to see yourself like… that. 

It’s you but it’s not, it’s a mindless avatar that you can take over, it will be you. You tilt your head as you circle the tank, taking in every last detail of the avatar. Max and Norm watch you patiently, expectant of the shock you’re feeling. 

“Why?” You look up to them, you hand resting on the cool tank. They both walk over, Max standing on the other side of the tank, looking down at the avatar. “Well, you’ve been obsessed with Pandora practically your whole life” he says. 

Norm stands next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We also know how late you and Spider would stay up so he could tell you about the jungle and the Omaticaya” Max continues, Norm squeezing your shoulder. 

“We’ll get it ready tonight and tomorrow you can take it for a test drive huh?” Norms voice barely cuts through the tension in your head. You didn’t know what to say, yes or no? 

You’ve stared out your window your entire life, craving Pandora, reading and watching old logs over and over again to get a glimpse of what it might feel like. Now you’re presented with the opportunity, and you can’t bring yourself to say yes. 

You don’t trust yourself to not give up everything for the world that lies beyond the walls of your home. 

“I’m not 18 yet” you blurt out, coming up with any reason to refuse the gift. “Close enough” Norm shrugs. Max sends you a short smile “We’re sorry about freaking out earlier, you’ve been doing everything we said to recover, and it wasn’t fair to blow up on you like that” 

You stare at him silently, hands itching. God, you have everything you’ve ever wanted right here at your fingertips, you’ve been obedient your entire life, content with what you have. 

But now you have the chance to live. 

- 

Before Max can even finish his sentence, you’re throwing on the old avatar clothes they dug out and bounding out the door. The examination was grueling, the excitement and anxiety about to burst out your veins. 

You feel the sun on your skin, and you close your eyes, basking in the light. Your breath hitches as you feel a cool breeze graze your skin. Fresh air fills your lungs, crisp and energizing.  

“Now Y/n be care-“ Norm starts to warn you, but without a second thought you’re running through the field, jumping over railing and fallen logs. You can’t help the exhilaration that pumps through your blood, purging your mind of any previous anxiety or hesitation.  

As you land you stumble, tripping over yourself. your heals dig into the ground and you throw your arms out to balance yourself, a second tics by and a laugh escapes your lips. You throw your head up and stare into the sky. Your lips hurt from how hard you’re smiling. 

You look down at your feet digging into the ground, wiggling your toes into the soil. You whip your head around, smiling widely at Norm watching you from the door. You’re outside. Actually outside. Within seconds you're laughing, spinning around in an attempt to take in everything at once.  

It was the same field and forest you had watched everyday, but it’s so different up close, so real. It doesn't take long for you to grow dizzy and fall flat on your butt, tripping over your own feet and loosing balance. It’s without a doubt embarrassing, later you’ll thank Eywa that only Norm and Max were watching you, but you can’t bring yourself to care as your sink your fingers into the ground below you, threading your fingers through thin patches of grass. 

You bite your lip, giggling like a child with a lollipop as your swipe your hand across the ground, committing the course feeling of the dried up dirt to memory, how it sticks to your palms and how the path your hand took bears a faint mark. 

You cant imagine how stupid you look to Norm as he walks up to you, you’re literally playing in dirt, but the look on both your faces show no proof that either of you care. He ruffles your hair, reminding you of how messy and unkept it is, before he hands you a choker-mic and earpiece. “It’s just the first day so I don’t want you going far, you know how badly that could have gone for Jake” his comment draws a giggle from you, knowing the story of the great Toruk Makto from the perspective of the science guys by heart.  

“Check in every hour and keep an eye on your surroundings” He drones on with the safety speech he drilled into Spider as a kid, you listened but your attention is taken by the forest that lies just meters ahead of you, the edge just a glimpse of the world beyond.  

It’s captivating, every movement and sound draws your attention. It’s so much bigger than you ever could have imagined, the towering trees pushing a subtle sense of dread in your stomach. You could get lost, lose track of time, fall in love, so easily.  

You’re hypnotized by the sway of the leaves, the quiet movements and way the air shifts.  

Can you do this? 

You’re pulled out of your trance when he nudges your shoulder, you blink hard and look to him. “Were you even-? Whatever” he sighs “Just please don’t-” he hands you a knife “Don’t die, you’ll come back to your real body and it wont hurt you but it’s not a fun experience…” you take the knife, observing it. 

It’s a common hunting knife, the netting wrapped around the handle is worn, basic weaving patterns. You look up to him, tilting your head. He smiles and nods to the forest “Be safe kid, I want you home before eclipse.”  

You push yourself up and you take a moment to take in your sudden height difference. A smirk slips onto your lips and he rolls his eyes, biting your lip you turn to the forest. anxiously, you step forward, one foot in front of the other. 

Before you can think, your feet are speeding up, pushing you forward into the jungle you stared at for 17 years. You break through the edge and you’re surrounded by trees and green, the forest envelopes you, the earthy smell sinking into your skin.  

You slow down once you’re several meters past the edge, taking in everything around you. The leaves far above you sway in the wind, tiny critters crawl around on the trees and fallen over logs. The sound hypnotizes you, each noise and bustle piercing your ears. The forest envelopes you, every part of your being melting into the air, begging to become one.  

You’re smiling so hard, your lips feel like they’re going to split, the ache in your cheeks forgotten before you can even bring yourself to notice. 

You’re in the forest. 

You take a moment to breathe in the air, the damp smell of wood and moss, soil and plants sprawling across the floor and trees. Vines wrap around branches, hanging down, some of the flowers move as if they were breathing, the sway of the grass in sync. Chirps and clicks echo, your head swiveling trying to find the source.  

Your legs are moving unconsciously, your body in a trance. The feel of the ground beneath you is entrancing, the tickle of the grass on the bottoms of your feet, its disorienting how soft the soil is compared to the hard floors of your home. Except it didn’t feel like home anymore, it never did, this is what feels right. 

The smoothness of the giant leaves you run your hand over, the flowers sprouting from vines and plants, leaves of plants grazing your legs, it all leaves you breathless. Names run through your head as you observe the plants, their names popping into your head, the properties and uses. Its surreal to see them up close, in real life.  

I should take samples... You think to yourself but pack the idea to the back of your mind, another day perhaps.  

The forest is enchanting, taking all of your attention, you forget Norm’s advice and just wander through the green aimlessly. You don’t even realize how far you’ve gone, how long it’s been, the pair of eyes that's been trailing you for at least a mile.  

Neteyam doesn't understand you… you’re na’vi but wearing human clothes? Obviously, you must be an Avatar, but he’s met all the Avatar’s left on Pandora during the meeting with his father, and you’re careless, like a toddler who just learned to walk. Uncaring of where you are, where you’re going, clueless of your surroundings.  

He considered you could be a Skyperson, the ones who returned, but his father and the scientists doubted that the RDA would fund an Avatar program after their last mission. You’re also defenseless, wearing old clothes and no gun, no soldier, no sign that you’re here maliciously. You’re not a threat. He still keeps his bow ready despite his certainty that you’re harmless, in case you make an unsavory move or a different threat makes an appearance. 

He tilts his head as he watches you, you’re smiling and immersing yourself in the forest. The way you take it all in reminds him of his sister, but this is different. His sister has a natural connection, the forest being her home, you’re engulfed by it, if he hadn’t been keeping such an intent eye on you then you would have disappeared right before him.  

Something about the way you walked, the delicate placing of your feet, the careful posture you kept to be able to turn and see all of the forest at any moment, he couldn’t just let you wander off. It’s his job as future Olo’eyktan to be vigilant and mindful, your presence, even innocuous, wasn’t something that could be acquitted.  

So he followed you, tilting his ears to make sense of your whispers to yourself. He knows English, his entire family is fluent in it, but he still frowns when he recognizes you’re speaking it. He and his siblings will use it occasionally, but he often avoids it due to the distaste he feels about it, the association it has with skypeople leaving a bad taste in his mouth. 

He doesn’t contemn skypeople as much as his mother or other members of the clan, but he never goes out of his way to speak or associate with them.  

With a soft giggle, his entire attention locks onto your face. Your hand comes up to rest your fingers In front of your mouth as you smile at the bugs fluttering around a twirling plant after you tapped it.  

Yeah… like a toddler… 

He purses his lips to hold back the sigh that tries to escape his lips, how much longer must he watch you? The decision it up to him but he doesn’t know how to approach the situation. 

He tilts his head, shifting his weight on his feet. He’s about to leave, deciding you’re not going to cause a problem, when an atokirina’ floats in front of his. It bobs through the air, seemingly aimlessly, before slowly descending towards you. His eyes follow it intently heeding Eywa’s mind. 

The spirit drifts around you, catching your attention once it bobs around your head. You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips when you notice the spirit, you take your hand off the tree it was resting on and cup it with your other, biting your lip as the atokirina’ floats down into the cusp of your hands. 

It tickles at your palm and fingertips, your smile grows wider, such a being coming to you and making contact brings you endless joy, even if you don’t know the full significance of it. Slowly you bend down to rest on your knees, keeping a slow pace to avoid disturbing the being. Once you're sat, you shift to rest on the side of your thigh, humming as you bring the spirit closer and observe it.  

He watches you for a moment, considering you before shifting to get down from his hiding spot. You gasp when he drops down from a branch from a tree opposite of you, you had the sense that you weren’t alone, but you attributed that to the bustling forest.  

Your eyes are locked onto the Na’vi boy several feet infront of you, mouth agape and body frozen. There’s a heavy silence between you, observing eachother, unsure of what to say. You decide to say something, he hasn’t killed you yet so thats a good sign, but he beats you too it. 

“Who are you.” He states, hs voice gruff and thick. You open your mouth, words jumbled in your throat before you blurt out “Y/n” his eyes are biting, pinning you to your spot. 

He doesn’t say anything, observing every part of you. “I’m from the labs, um with the science guys” you offer, he tilts his head, furrowing his brows. You panic, realizing that you could very well be taken as a RDA sky person “The ones who fought with you, loyal to the Na’vi” you add abruptly, hoping to withdraw any possible suspicions or misgivings.  

His expression remains unchanging, it makes you nervous, unsure of what to do or say. Before you can try and add anything, “Come” is all he says, nodding his head in the direction he turns to walk in. Realizing the woodsprite is long gone, having floated away during the interaction, you scramble up to follow him.  

He’s quick, knowing of where to go, experienced in the trek of the forest. You clamber after him, trying to keep up with his pace while avoiding any obstacles. Your efforts are unsuccessful, your foot tripping over a vine like branch that caught on your foot.  

You hiss at the sting of your palms that caught you, pushing yourself up on your elbows. You start to get up when the boy is in front of you, grabbing your hands and inspecting them. His expression is unreadable, but the way his eyes soften when he sees the minimal damage done to you makes a smile pull at your lips.  

He looks up to you, repositioning his hands to be holding onto your wrists, he stands up, pulling you up with him. “Must i carry you?” He asks lamely, annoyed at your unwieldy coordination. Quickly you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks from embarrassment. He nods and turns to continue his path, his hand loosely holding onto your wrist as you both continue foreward.  

You don’t know how long you walk for, letting the boys hold on you guide you as you study the forest you pass by. Before you know it, his pace is slowing and you peak over his figure to see the village. A pit grows in your stomach, you fiddle with your hands, wringing your fingers as you walk through the village, eyes following your every movement.  

You really don’t want to be here, no doubt much farther than what Norm and Max would have approved, but there wasn’t much you could do. You didn’t want to protest or run, overly aware of how easily the boy could overpower and kill you, but there was also the curiousity of the forest guiding you. 

The Na’vi know the forest better than you ever could, you’d no doubt be safer with a stranger than on your own, it’s a chance to see and explore the forest without worry of getting lost or running into danger. And now being in the village? It’s unexpected, but you can’t deny the ecitment that swirls with the anxiety in your chest. 

He walks up to a particular tent, you notice its larger than the others, not by much though. Na’vi start to surround you, curious about you and the boy, the whispers and eyes on you causing you to bite your lip nervously. The boy calls out to the tent, after a moment the flaps open and out walks a tall man adorned in intricate jewelry spreading across his shoulders and chest, a tall woman and an older woman stalking out after him.  

Their eyes fall on the boy, then you, the woman’s eyes narrow, tilting her chin up. The man just seems confused, looking to the boy for an explanation. They start speaking in the language, you understand some of it, but you’re not fluent. You pick up “Eywa’s sign” “Harmless” “daughter of the sky men” ect. You can interpret what they’re talking about, but you can’t understand specifically what is being said. 

The woman narrows her eyes, studying you. You resist squirming under her gaze until the man turns to you and speaks “So, you’re Y/n, Spider’s sister, right?” his English is clean, almost as if you were talking to one of the guys in the biolab and you mind makes the connection. 

This is Jake Sully 

Your eyes widen at the realization, but you keep yourself composed. Carefully you nod “Yes sir, they gave me this Avatar as an early birthday gift and I decided to look around the forest” you explain, you bite the inside of your cheek “I’ve never seen it before” you whisper weakly, averting your gaze to the floor.  

The woman, who you assume is Neytiri circles you, surveying your appearance and self. She stops next to you, brushing her fingertips against your loose hair. “You have never been outside of that tawtute vessel?” she muses, curiously watching your facial response.  

Your eyes dart to her, biting your lip you start to nod but the attention is drawn away when a familiar voice calls out. “Y/n?!” to your side, Spider, Lo’ak, and Kiri stand startled. Spider’s mouth twists into a grin before stepping foreward, he looks you up and down “So it was viable huh?” he asks amused, you tilt your head in confusion, you're about to say something before he continues “and they gave it to you early? And they didn’t even tell me” He feigns hurt, his amusement growing by the second. 

“Wait Spider you knew about this?” Lo’ak asks, stepping foreword and grabbing him by the shoulder, pointing at you. Your brother shrugs, explaining that it was an idea they told him about a few years ago but never confirmed. Kiri steps foreword, a smile growing on her lips. 

Her hands graze your cheeks as she observes every part of your face and body “This is amazing Y/n!” her eyes lock with yours “this is amazing” her smile bleeds into yours, a shy grin forming as she takes your hands in hers and laughs.  

“Yeah now you can actually hang out with us” Lo’ak roughly places his hand on your head, the height difference not as drastic as before but still there. You shyly tilt your head, biting your lip at the excitement of your friends and brother. 

The buzz seems to die when their eyes are drawn to the figure that steps closer behind you, out of your peripheral you see the older woman, the Tsahik, stare at them, communicating through their eyes before they take their hands off you and back up a few steps. A lump forms in your throat as you turn to fully face the towering woman. Her gaze is unwavering, strong, it makes you want to say something, anything. 

“What is your purpose, girl?” She questions, the weight of her words pulling down on your every limb. What does she mean? It’s such an intense yet vague question, her firm expression not giving any help to your attempts to decipher what’s the right thing to say.  

To live. 

You’re out of the lab, face to face with someone other than a person you’ve known literally your entire life. You’re not confined to those walls anymore, you can breathe the air, walk and run without concern, see and live among what you’ve been learning about your entire life, yearning for it. 

It wasn’t your intention when you stepped into the forest, and you’re sure it was Max and Norms either, but the opportunity is right in front of you. This is your choice, completely and entirely your choice. 

“To learn the ways of the forest” you say carefully “the ways of the people” you bite your lip as she slowly looks you up and down. She finally meets your eyes and you straighten your back, keeping her gaze locked with yours. You can’t explain the relief that washes over your chest when her eyes twitch, the slightest softness creeping into her expression. 

She glances to the boy then to Jake and Neytiri, again silently communicating with their eyes. After a moment she turns back to you. “I trust my grandson’s judgement” She states, your mind goes blank for a moment before she continues “both my grandchildren and the Great Mother see something in you, it would be foolish to reject you.” She turns to Jake and Neytiri again, looking to the people surrounding you all now. 

“She will be taught the ways of the people” She announces firmly, she locks eyes with Jake, then glances down to the boy who brought you here. Jake breathes in before stepping forward, placing a hand on the boys shoulder. “My son is to be Olo’eyktan, he must be able to lead and help the people” He looks to the boy, his son “It will be his job to guide her, a great way to gain experience and prove himself”  

Whispers move through the crowd, the way the boys lips purse makes your tail flick against your ankles unconsciously. You lock eyes with him, you want to curl into yourself at the way he looks at you. The intensity of his gaze hitches at your breath, reviving the weight pulling the strings of anxiety in your chest. You feel a pair of hands on your shoulders and a voice speaks right next to your ears. 

“You and Neteyam stuck together huh?” Lo’aks voice is riddled with amusement “This ought to be good” he cackles, your brother nudging your arm as he makes similar comments.  

The boy stands in front of you, eyes fixed on you, you swear you see the hardness of his gaze waver. 

Neteyam… he’s more than you ever thought he would be 

[toraxtori]

[toraxtori]

Would stardust fix us?| Neteyam x Avatar!reader

Indirectly inspired by the song All I Wanted by Paramore

Synopsis - Selfishness is a horribly addicting thing, it takes everything you’ve done and breaks it down in just a second. Neteyam can’t bring himself to admit his love for you, he has his duty, always living for what his father and clan wants. His resolve should be strong, until he meets you, a quiet sky person that barreled into his life and will seemingly leave just as quick. You’re tired of living for everyone but yourself, confined to the white walls you were born in, staring out to the world you craved to see. You have the chance at a new life, one that can truly be your life… You decide to live your life for yourself even if it means the end of it.

or In which when given the chance to have what they want, Neteyam’s life will start and yours will end.

I. May the dead walk again

II. Tìfyawìntxu

III. Longing

IV. Outsider or not

V. Choice

VI. High Above

VII. Sä’anla

VIII. In the End (the dead walks again)

I’m not taking anymore story requests but im definitely taking advice/requests/song suggestions for this series! also i’ll try my best to answer asks that are just rambles or random things, makes me happy :)

[toraxtori]

Courtship, chances.

ft. neteyam, side chars. will be mentioned in tags warnings.fem. human! reader, aged up characters(19), neytiri doesn’t like the idea of neteyam being with y/n, fluff overall, neteyam trying his hardest to impress you 😌 a/n. thank all of you guys for your love and support, all my lovelies from ao3 and on tumblr <3 here is chapter two! + a slightly different format, did y’all know that i had to make 4 DRAFTS of this bc tumblr was being silly w its word/image limit! WOO THIS WAS QUITE LONG

säsìlpey <- hope. smon nìprrte <- nice to meet you. ‘umtsa <- medicine. irayo <- thanks/thank you.

wordcount. 7.7k

spotify playlist: Courtship. I should warn you, true blue is quite loud at first so make sure your volume is low (a bit)!

navigation | read on ao3 | prev « | next »

Neteyam didn’t know what to do in all honesty, he didn’t know what to begin with. How should he court you? What should he do first? Weave a necklace for you? No.. that would be too much, too early. Perhaps.. let you watch him hunt and prepare the food, to see how he’s good at providing and hunting? Maybe. But, what he did know was that he would not let you down with his advances. He would try his utmost best to impress you, in the hopes of you becoming his one and only mate.

Continuar lendo

[toraxtori]

❝your mighty warrior❞ ( I. )

golden eyes

summary: you never thought you'd see your lover's golden eyes again. and when you did, he didn't recognize a single part of you. pairing: neteyam x omaticaya!reader wordcount: 2.8k contains: angst, major spoilers for atwow, mentions of character death, blood, memory loss, sad guilty lo'ak, lo’ak x reader is platonic! notes: the first part, here we go! if i get things with the timeline messed up just ignore it haha. my heart breaks for lo'ak in this, but i hope you all enjoy!

paskalin : term of endearment oeyä tìyawn : my love tanhí : small, bioluminescent freckles

masterlist | series

The water is still in the night. Its chaos—violent waves that crash and collide—disappears once the darkness blankets over the sky. The surface of the water reflects the stars, small freckles of light in the face of the ocean. Although gentle tides push and pull, the vast sea is silent as it sleeps.

There is a beat to be heard; a pulse from under the water, under the ocean floor, from the very core of Pandora. A strong, mighty rhythm that shakes the ground. But this heartbeat does not come from the Great Mother.

In the quiet of the night, the reflection of the sky in the ocean is disrupted. Calloused fingers break through the barrier, reaching past the thin veil. He grasps the air like a rope. The crown of his head splits the sea in half. The moon pulls him to her; his body, strong and powerful, ascends.

──

It was his mother who pressed his eyes closed when they were void of life. The blank face of your lover glared into your soul. The grip he had on your hand--desperately clinging onto you like it would heal the hole in his heart--vanished, and you were left to imagine his fingers were still intertwined with yours.

You remember the wave of realization on his father's face, how his ears slightly dropped and his bottom lip quivered when he noticed that the bullet had gone straight through his eldest son's chest. Crimson collected in his shaking palms. You knew then that there was nothing to be done. Nothing except to sit next to Neteyam, your prince, as his soul moved onto the Great Mother.

His funeral was inevitable. After the war was over, it was time for the Suli's to say goodbye. You stayed with his brother, Lo'ak's hands placed in yours, as Neteyam slowly sank deeper towards the ocean floor. His frame became smaller and smaller, until he was completely engulfed by luminescent tendrils. Your lover was no more.

The family struggled to carry on without him. You remained close with his siblings, thankfully. Kiri mourned by your side. For a time, it had been just her and Neteyam. He was born less than a month before her and she considered him to be her twin. Tuk was young, but old enough to understand, “He is with Eywa”.

Lo'ak, however, was almost never to be seen. If you managed to catch a glimpse of him, he was silent and reclusive. He even ignored Tsireya, who asked you multiple times if he was alright; you never had an answer.

Despite your great loss, the village of Awa'atlu continued on. Every morning, the fishermen and farmers rose early, the healers prepared their supplies, and the hunters readied their ilus to dive through the sea.

Life continued on as if Neteyam's soul had never been ripped out of your blood-soaked hands, as if his eyes had never looked their last to you. It broke your heart.

──

Although Jake Suli had finally recognized his youngest son for his true potential, it was too late. Lo'ak put the blame for Neteyam's death on himself. He accepted that he would forever carry that weight with him, no matter where he ran to or hid.

You knew that when he was nowhere to be found, he was somewhere far off in the sea on Payakan's fin. He stayed out late and missed ceremonies and Suli family meetings; it was Neteyam who always pushed Lo'ak to participate. But even when he laid underneath the stars on the back of Payakan, the ocean water gently lapping at his skin, the guilt still sat in his chest like the bullet in Neteyam's heart.

Without his older brother, Lo'ak ceased to exist. He refused to meet his eyes or even speak to his mother. He made himself an outcast before his family could. You recognized that the void in Lo'ak's life was the same one tearing you apart, so you felt that it was your responsibility to look after him.

"We must be strong," Neteyam had told you the night you left your home in the forest. You said goodbye to your family to be with him. He'd placed his palm over your heart. "In here."

It was eerie how you could still feel his touch as if he were right in front of you. Neteyam would've wanted you to stay strong for Lo'ak, and you would do anything to honor your mighty warrior.

Unfortunately, looking after Lo'ak wasn't easy when you could never find him. Two days had passed and you hadn't seen him once. You knew not to worry--Kiri noticed your concern and said she'd seen him with his tulkun just outside of the reef. "He didn't seem like he wanted to come back."

By that night, you'd given up. After a great feast held for the birth of Tonowari and Ronal's child, you separated yourself from the others and sat alone on a far-off shore. The ocean life illuminated the darkness around you, small specks of teal and gold light scattered in the water. Your feet had sunk into the wet sand as the calm waves kissed your ankles.

While the ocean held many wonders that continued to fascinate you, it left a bitter image burned into your memory.

There was fire off in the distance, gunshots and explosions, but they were all the least of your concern. You shook as you held his body in your arms. The water had turned violent, as if the Great Mother knew of the war taking place. Sharp, chaotic waves crashed against a rocky landing. Crimson pooled in the grooves of the rock, running down the sides to where it diluted in the vast sea.

You never allowed yourself to remember anything past that. The ocean had not redeemed itself just yet. You pulled your knees to your chest so your feet were out of the water. The silence of the night would never be peaceful; if it was quiet enough, you could still hear his voice in your ear.

Fortunately, the silence broke. Soft footsteps in the sand were trailing towards you, and wide, golden eyes met your small frame. Lo'ak had not expected you so far away from the village, alone, at night. "(y/n)," he froze. "What're you doing here?"

"Lo'ak," you let out a breath of relief that you'd been holding for the past few days. You stood and brushed the sand off of your legs. "I've- We've been looking for you. Your mother and father have been so worried."

He frowned at the mention of his family--of his father. He refused to even imagine what they could possibly think of him. "I was just out," Lo'ak tried to dismiss the topic and swiftly walked past you, his shoulder barely brushing yours. "I'm fine."

The remnants of your heart cracked once again. Even when a hand reached out for him, grasping onto his fingertips, he'd pull away. The fear of rejection--the thought of placing his trust in someone with only betrayal in return--was too great. Lo'ak would abandon others before they could abandon him.

"Lo'ak, please." your hand gently grabbed his shoulder to turn him back to you. He stood a few inches over you and refused to look down to meet your eyes.

There was a soft spark in his chest, and you could see the flame beginning to grow. "What do you want, (y/n)?" He retorted with a sigh.

"You know what it is, Lo'ak." You brushed your hand down his arm to meet his palm. You placed his own hand on top of his heart. He sighed, breath laced with heavy regret and guilt. Lo'ak knew that whatever he'd been hiding for the past few months would be coming up right there in front of you.

He practically collapsed onto the sand, feet set in the water and arms wrapped around his legs, but he quickly pulled himself away from the shore, just like you had earlier, once the memories began to feel too real. You sat right by his side and looked off to the dark horizon. The two of you stared with broken hearts. "Have you gone to see him?"

There was silence, apart from the gentle lapping of the waves and the village in the distance. "No," he regretfully looked down at his lap. "Have you?"

You shook your head, "No." Your response wasn't much better.

For as much as the two of you missed him, neither of you had gone to the Spirit Tree like the rest of the Suli family. The only images of Neteyam that you had left were the memories still burned into your vision. “I’m afraid to forget him,” Lo’ak admitted. He bit the inside of his cheek. “But I’m too scared to see him again.”

You looked to him with sympathetic eyes. For the first time since his brother’s death, Lo’ak broke. Three tears left a trail down his face to where they dropped off his skin and onto the sand. “I don’t know much about spirits,” you began. You set a firm, reassuring hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder. “But Neteyam loved us with all his heart. Even as he rests with the Great Mother, he loves us.”

He tried to nod along to your words as if he would better believe them. Lo’ak gently gasped before a quiet, broken sob left his throat, “I know it’s my fault.” His shoulders heaved. “If I hadn’t made him go back for Spider or- or if I stayed behind instead of him..”

“Oh, Lo’ak,” you cooed, turning towards him and engulfing him in a hug. He leaned his forehead down onto your shoulder. This was the first comfort he’d felt in months. “We can’t tell ourselves those things.”

His tears collected on your skin. “My brother,” he whimpered, “is gone.”

Your fingers gently caressed the back of his head, tracing over his braids. You shushed him, “There’s nothing we can do.” How could you affirm this to Lo’ak when you couldn’t even accept it yourself? You pulled away so you could look him in the eyes.

“I miss him too much.” Lo’ak wept.

Holding his face between your gentle hands, you nodded. Together, your tears soaked the sand beneath you; the two of you could’ve created an entire ocean. “I miss him, too, paskalin.” Your thumb soothed cheek and wiped away the tears from his eyes. “But we must stay strong for him.

“All we can do is remember. One day, we’ll be strong enough to see him, I know it. But for now, we must be strong,” You put your hand over his heart. The beat of his soul turned steady; you remembered how Neteyam’s slowed to a stop, and for the first time since his death, you pushed the memory away without a single tear. “In here.”

Lo’ak closed his eyes and calmed his breath, allowing the feeling of your palm on his skin to soothe him. He’d opened himself and poured out his heart. Now, he could heal.

The night continued on, and you stayed with Lo’ak throughout the dark reign. He could take however long he needed. You would comfort him through whatever war he created in his mind. The tide came in, brushing water against your knees, but the two of you remained.

Finally, he opened his eyes. “We should return to the village.” Before, Lo’ak spoke bluntly with a dismissive mask to cover how broken he truly was. Now, his voice was firm and strong.

“Are you sure?” You warned. He stood and you cautiously rode with him.

His hands, which had been balled in tense fists, released themselves. Lo’ak nodded, “I’ve been too focused on my brother that I’ve forgotten the rest of my family. Do you think they’ll forgive me?”

With a sweet, proud smile, you offered, "They already have."

──

The path back to the village was peaceful given that you and Lo'ak had come to terms with your grief. He had warned you that his parents would most likely be angry when you returned since it'd been hours since they'd last seen you and days since they'd seen him. You'd consoled him, "We'll get through it together."

It was strange that in Neteyam's absence, you and Lo'ak were able to replace the void with each other. Although he was only a year younger, you'd always felt a sisterly love for him, the same way that you felt for Kiri or Tuk. Now that your connection with Lo'ak had healed, maybe you could too.

Life ahead was beginning to look a little brighter in that moment as you walked on the shore.

But your peace was short-lived.

The village was close enough that you could see the pods, docks, and several Metkayina men with glowing lanterns that noticed you and Lo'ak approaching. They called out and, together, the two of you rushed to them.

"What is wrong?" Lo'ak prodded, trying to look past their broad shoulders at the commotion that was collecting in the village.

You tried as well but they were too tall compared to you. "You must come with us," one of the men said. The flames in the lanterns gently flickered but you could well enough see Kiri running in the distance. Her eyes were wide with fear like she'd seen a ghost.

"Kiri!" You exclaimed.

She pushed past the men and, out of breath, embraced Lo'ak. "Brother!" There were tears falling from her eyes, only you had expected her to happily cry at the sight of Lo'ak. Instead, she wept. "You must come. Come, (y/n)."

Kiri led you both back to the village, the men following after you to provide light. Almost every person in Awa'atlu--man, woman, young, and old--crowded near the shore. They yelled and gasped, cursing and praying. The three of you struggled to push past everyone, accidentally stepping on tails and toes and bumping elbows and shoulders.

Everyone seemed to look at you and Lo'ak with sympathy. Lo'ak sensed it as well, and looked just as confused as you were.

The crowd was like a hurricane, and in the center, the eye was calm. Jake and Neytiri kneeled on the ground, Tuk crying into her father's arm. Tonowari, Ao'nung, and a collection of soldiers held the people back. Ronal sat across from Neytiri, muttering a prayer with her eyes shut. Kiri ran to her mother's side. Tsireya rushed to Lo'ak as he collapsed.

Your heart stopped.

On the ground, where the ocean met the sand, a figure laid. He had strong legs and arms, a strapping abdomen, and calloused palms and fingers. There was a scar on the outside of his right thigh. Tanhì scattered across his body like the constellations reflected on the ocean.

Your prince. His ghost would forever haunt you. What had you done wrong? What had you done for the Great Mother to curse you like this? Just as you could feel your wounds beginning to heal, your heart crumbled again.

You fell to your knees, placing your hand over your mouth to cover the ear-splitting wail you released. You could fully see your Neteyam now. Just as you had remembered it, but his eyes were gently shut. Neytiri cried alongside you, and your heart almost broke even further until you heard her whisper, "Thank you, Great Mother. Thank you."

What was she grateful for? Jake noticed your confusion, and with a hopeful smile, he took your hand and placed it on Neteyam's heart. Underneath the weight of your palm, you felt a gentle pulse. A steady, soft rhythm that rocked your core. Your tears stopped, a cry stuck in your throat.

You looked down to his body and gasped. "Oeyä tìyawn," you whispered out to him, hoping he would hear it. Through just two words, your voice called out to him.

Golden eyes, that you thought you would never see again, opened.

His father gasped; his mother laughed; his sisters cheered, and his brother bowed with his forehead touching the ground. Neteyam's mighty heartbeat reached across Pandora.

"Ma 'Teyam," you smiled. You could taste your own tears as they reached the corners of your mouth. For the first time in months, you weren't crying from a split in your heart--you cried at the feeling of it healing. You were foolish to think the Great Mother would curse you. "Thank you, Great Mother."

Only two minutes had passed until you noticed the laughter and cheers of others had disappeared. The night had become silent again. Your smile fell when you recognized that Neteyam had not yet embraced you. In fact, he stayed frozen on the ground.

His eyes were still open, but they were wide and full of fear. Tuk reached for his hand, and he quickly pulled away with a scared gasp. He flinched when his own mother caressed his cheek. "Neteyam," she pleaded. Finally, his eyes met yours. You looked to him with desperate affection, practically shooting beams of love towards him. Your stomach dropped when you noticed it.

Your prince did not know who you were.

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[toraxtori]

i wanna go home rn 😞