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moonjxsung · 6 months

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Lost in Translation

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 26.5k

Warnings: accidental nudity, hospital visit, mention of masturbation, use of pet names, breast/nipple play, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, bulge kink, sexual asphyxiation, breeding kink, creampie, oral sex (male receiving), brief mention of pregnancy

Synopsis: The older brother of the boy you babysit is an enigma, in every sense of the word- and you’re determined to figure him out.

[this work was based off a request by @antoniorhinothethird - thank you for requesting!]

18+. Mdni!

•

The idea of babysitting isn’t some brilliant proposal you conjured up in a day- but it’s not exactly a choice, either. The idea isn’t even yours, in fact, the advertisements you published on the colorful inquiry site at your mother’s behest. But “college courses are virtual these days” and “you’ll be a mother at some point in your life,” according to her. So two months into the semester, you’ll now spend the majority of your time in a new place you’ll call home, just 30 minutes out at the Lee Household.

The Lee household is considerably larger than you’d originally anticipated it to be, spanning a sizable amount of grassland and standing nobly tall at 2 stories high. The exterior of the flashy home is surrounded by paved gravel driveways, lining the neat rows of bushels and vines that surround the off-white architectural build. Giant glass windows reflect sunlight in nearly every room of the house, with the exception of the dimly-lit library on the second floor, which flaunts colossal cherry wooden bookshelves that line the walls and cover most of the smaller windows.

“Joon is usually very mellow in the daytime,” Mrs. Lee tells you as she walks you through a tour of the garden. “You’ll only have to worry about his feeding schedules, which I’ve already written and posted on the refrigerator.”

She pivots in front of you, stopping for a moment and gesturing to the stone fountain by the rose bushes. “Do you like it? It was a gift from my husband. When he’s not running the furniture business, he works in restoration a lot. This was his first project.”

“Wow,” you say, your lips parted at the sight of the koi fish and the cascading waterfall from its lips. “It’s very beautiful.”

Mrs. Lee smiles at you in response, turning on her heel and continuing to the iron gates in the front.

“Do you have any other questions?” She asks, clasping her hands together and shooting you a saccharine smile. She’s intimating, not because of her personality, which you quickly clock as rather warm and inviting. But rather, because she’s so elegant, her navy silk dress perfectly complementing the chunky pearl earrings she wears, making her look like a character from an old film. You’re not sure you’ve ever crossed paths with such an interesting woman before.

“I think that covers everything,” you say finally, giving her a small bow. “I’ll be sure to provide updates throughout the day.”

“Oh, no need,” she says quickly. “Unless it’s an emergency, l know you’ll have your hands full doing your work while watching Joon. Feel free to just give us a little summary when we’re home for the evening.”

She shoots you a little wink when she finishes speaking, clasping her hands together again and smiling down at you.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for your first day!” She exclaims warmly, opening gate doors as you make your exit out of the garden. When you begin down the paved road, Mrs. Lee suddenly gasps, calling out to you again in a frantic manner.

“Oh! Y/n, wait please!” She calls, pulling the skirt of her dress up to her ankles to jog over to where you’re standing.

“My other son will be home from school in the afternoon tomorrow. Don’t be alarmed if you hear him moving about the house. He’ll just keep to himself.”

You ponder the words for a moment, a little frustrated when you realize there will be two kids in the household instead of one, like she’d previously mentioned. But you just nod and smile at her, seeing yourself out of the driveway once again and beginning the journey back home to prepare for your first day here tomorrow.

This castle-at-end-of-the-road is eerily quiet when no one’s home, a once lively sight of rose bushes and marble statues appearing like something out of a horror movie when you’re by yourself. At every corner you turn, your brain runs rampant with paranoia, placing shadowy figures and silhouettes of people where there are none- except for when you’re in the presence of Joon.

At just a year old, Joon is considered one of the cutest ages, only being able to babble incoherent noises and flail his little hands around when he wants something. His closet is full of matching neutral tones, per his mother’s styling, and his sparse black hair is combed neatly to one side.

Mrs. Lee is right about him- he doesn’t cry. Nor does he ever make a fuss, really. He simply sits quietly, in the comfort of his crib, or his high chair, and he curiously peers at the world around him. You’re certain he’s taken a liking to you already, judging at how he smiles when you spoon-feed him mashed carrots and mimic airplane noises. And he only cries briefly once in the day, stopping almost immediately when you put him down for his nap.

This may be an easier gig than you thought.

While Joon naps, you take the opportunity to get some work done in the library, settling comfortably on the velvet armchair in the corner and running through a few of your online class assignments for the week.

Although you’ll be babysitting here for the next few weeks, you’re also completing your final year at university this year, your last semester being completely remote. Which gives you time to take on the babysitting task as a side hustle, and hopefully save enough money to travel a bit after university like you’ve always dreamt of.

At half past noon, Joon is still peacefully asleep in his crib where you’ve left him, the ambient sound of waves echoing softly from his baby monitor as little snores emit from his curled lips. He looks like an angel when he sleeps, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell to twice its size at the sight of him.

The gentle breeze of the October wind travels through the open windows of the library, sending chills up your spine when you sit down to work again. You get up from where you’re sitting on the armchair to latch the windows shut, making sure to lock them, before turning around to take your seat again- quickly startled by the figure standing in the doorway.

“Jesus,” you yelp, one hand clutching your chest in fear as you nearly drop your laptop.

The figure- or man, rather, says nothing, scanning the room like he’s searching for something, before turning on his heel and exiting the room once again.

He’s tall, with a slim yet muscular build, honey tanned skin complementing his chocolate brown tresses. He’s also dressed rather casually in a pair of light-wash jeans and a black top, a black leather jacket thrown over his broad shoulders and left unzipped.

“Sorry, did you need something?” You call out, perplexed by his demeanor. You can’t remember if the Lees warned you of potential visitors, but you’re suddenly panicked for Joon, remembering you left his door open.

“Nope,” the man calls out over his shoulder, not turning around to face you. And then you see it- a black backpack, slung over one shoulder and seemingly filled to the brim with textbooks.

Their other son.

This must be the son Mrs. Lee warned you would be making appearances in the afternoon. But you had assumed him to be much younger, especially considering he’s definitely old enough to be watching over his own brother.

Before you can gather your thoughts to introduce yourself, he’s gone again, disappearing down the hall the same way he so mysteriously appeared. And you wonder, briefly, how he can be so much colder than his own mother.

The first day of your new job is a success. When Mrs. Lee returns home for the evening, she pays you in cash, true to her traditional style, and sends you home with a tin of shortbread cookies as another ‘thank you’, though she’s already voiced it a million times. But the second day is rougher than the first, reminding you of why babysitting isn’t always an easy task despite what it may seem.

Joon is particularly antsy today, flailing his arms around when you try to spoon feed him and whining relentlessly when you pick him up. He needs several diaper changes in just your first few hours of working, and when you finally do get him clean, he’s a crying, screaming mess.

Fortunately, he still goes down for his nap at noon, which means you have a narrow window of time to complete your work for the day and get freshened up. The windows in the library are propped wide open again, a cold breeze coming through as you settle in your new favorite spot and open your laptop.

There are a myriad of assignments to complete today, and you’re briefly panicked that you won’t be able to complete the necessary few pieces if Joon suddenly wakes again. But still, you try, skimming through textbooks and typing away as much as you can to make steady progress. And at the hour mark, Joon begins to cry. Rather he wails, loudly, from the other room, startling you when you’re already in deep concentration working through a practice quiz.

You make your way down the hallway and to the right, where Joon’s room is, approaching the crib and catching a glimpse of his anguished state. His face is a robust shade of red as he wails loudly, bubbles of saliva forming at his nostrils and his eyes squeezed shut. You guide him out of the crib and into the safety of your arms, shushing him gently and rocking him back and forth the way Mrs. Lee taught you. And Joon calms instantly, hiccuping through tears as he locks his gaze on yours and fists at strands of your hair.

“That’s okay,” you coo at him, grazing your finger along his chin and cleaning some of the drool that dribbles from the corners of his lips. “I’m here. Look at you! You’re okay,” you continue, giggling at him when his quivering lips pull into a small smile. He softens in your arms, smiling and babbling with hushed sounds, clutching tightly on strands of your hair as you balance him in your arms.

“You want to come do some work?” You ask, nodding your head as if to coax an answer out of him. “That’s a good baby, huh? Let’s go do some work.”

And you travel back to the library with Joon in your arms, giving him gentle pats on his back as you hoist him tighter into your embrace and balance your laptop with one arm.

When you’re starting on your last task of the evening, you’re interrupted again today by Mrs. Lee’s eldest son, who pokes his head in the doorway and observes as you coo down at Joon’s sleeping figure while working on your computer with one hand.

“Do you want me to take him?” You hear from the doorway, and you crane your neck to look where he’s standing, his hands shoved in his pockets and his backpack slung lazily over one arm.

“I’m okay,” you respond, typing out a word with one hand. He furrows his eyebrows at your failed attempt, approaching you and reaching out his arms to take Joon from your embrace.

“You can’t work like this,” he says, as he peacefully transfers Joon to his own arms. “He won’t wake up if I put him back, I promise.”

“Thanks,” you reply, taking note of his features now that he’s at a closer proximity to you for the first time. He has large round eyes, and long eyelashes that make even you jealous. His nose bridge is sharp and straight, and when he chuckles softly at Joon, you notice his skewed front teeth, ones that make his smile seem sweeter- softer.

As he begins out the doorway, you try to think of what to say to him, not wanting to have another awkward run-in with him like your last one. But nothing comes to mind that won’t be just as awkward as the encounter itself, and you settle on painful silence once again.

As you unlock your laptop, continuing on to your last assignment, you hear the faint noise of Mrs. Lee’s elder son putting Joon back to sleep.

Except he sounds different than he has during your two previous encounters. He’s laughing, babbling, even cooing at Joon as he puts him back to sleep. And though you really shouldn’t intrude, you make your way to the doorway again, where you peer down the hall to listen in on the endearing noises he makes.

“Are you sleepy?” He asks, his voice two octaves higher than usual. “Let’s sleep now, okay? No, you can’t have my shirt. That’s mine, remember? Let’s have good dreams now. I love you!”

You hear Joon giggling from the end of the corridor and you smile to yourself, wholly moved by the tender little moment he shares with his baby brother. He might not be his full-time caregiver, but he certainly knows what he’s doing. As you stay pondering his behavior for a moment, you don’t even notice when he exits the room again, turning to watch you standing around the doorway. Your ear is still leaned into the corridor, clearly having listened in on the private moment.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, straightening your posture, a wave of embarrassment quickly washing over you. “I was making sure Joon got to bed okay.”

He just nods once, looking you over briefly before meeting your gaze again.

“Minho,” he then practically mutters, averting your gaze as he waits for you to speak.

It’s his name, you realize, barely even having registered what he said to you. He’s telling you his name.

“Y/n,” you respond quickly, giving him a small bow and smiling nervously.

And Minho says nothing, pivoting on his heel to exit the corridor and disappear all over again.

For two weeks, your job runs smoothly, no glaring problems or hangups. Joon remains fond of you, obedient at mealtimes and when he’s put to bed. And the system of completing your college coursework goes smoothly, being able to get through several assignments a day while Joon takes his afternoon nap. If anything, you might be more productive than you were before this job, despite balancing it between university.

It’s an overcast Tuesday afternoon, and you’ve spent most of your day working in Joon’s nursery on the rocking chair next to his crib. He’s been a little fussy today, but you find that he calms down a little at the repetitive clicking noises of your laptop keyboard. Once you’ve confirmed he’s asleep, little snores emitting from his lips, you gather your belongings and sneak away to the library again. Only this time, it’s not vacant.

Minho sits in your usual spot today, his legs propped up on the footrest in front of him and a book in his lap. He doesn’t even notice you in the doorway, strands of hair hanging loosely in front of his face as he scans the page of his book. He also looks significantly more casual than other days you’ve seen him around, wearing a plain black t-shirt and gray sweats, a pair of round wireframe glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

He feels your gaze on him, shuffling about suddenly and closing his book.

“Sorry,” Minho says. “I was just… reading.”

He realizes how awkward he sounds, verbally conveying his actions to you like this, but he’s too caught off guard to form a more coherent string of words.

“It’s okay,” you say politely, setting your bag down on the floor and occupying the chair across from him.

“What book?” You ask, cocking your head at the small red novel he clutches in his lap.

“Hm? Oh, uh… it’s Love and Limerence. By Dorothy Tennov.”

You nod in response, studying the cherub painted on the cover, wielding a bow and arrow.

“Big romance fan?”

“No,” Minho says, chuckling at your words. “It’s a required read for my class.”

“How neat,” you reply. “What class requires romance novels these days?”

“My philosophy course,” Minho says, running the pads of his fingers over the raised text on the cover. “The psychology of emotion.”

“PHIL 105,” you say, knowing very well the course he speaks of.

“Yeah- you’ve taken it?”

“No, but I had a friend who did in freshman year. I’m in my last semester now- my remaining classes are virtual, though.”

“It’s my last semester, too,” Minho says with a little smile, fiddling with the lobe of his ear as he talks.

“Well best of luck to you in the final stretch,” you reply, shooting him a small smile back. “I hope it all goes smoothly.”

Minho gives a half nod, and then furrows his eyebrows together, like he’s just remembered something.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” he says suddenly, sitting up and gathering his belongings.

“Oh, I really don’t mind-”

“Catch you later,” He interrupts with a nervous tone, almost jogging out of the library and back down the corridor.

And just like the first day you met him, you maintain the same idea of him- he’s such an enigma. Appearing in and out of the household, not one to voice his thoughts or his opinions, no eagerness to know the stranger sitting in his house watching over his baby brother. But somehow, like the rest of the household, you can’t help but have a lingering curiosity for Minho, too.

“My husband and I might be late getting back today,” Mrs. Lee says one morning as you feed Joon his breakfast. His tongue dodges the plastic spoon, dribbling mashed food out from the corners of his lips and laughing when you go to dab his face clean with a napkin.

“That’s alright,” you reply, loading up the spoon with more food. “I can wait until you’ve arrived.”

“You will?” Mrs. Lee asks, a kind of sparkle in her eyes as she speaks. “That would mean the world to us. It’s just that my husband has an auction to attend today. And sometimes these events run longer than they’re meant to.”

“No problem at all,” you say, smiling at her as you turn your attention back to Joon. “Joon and I will just hang out a little longer today. Isn’t that right?”

He babbles something in response, a string of saliva trailing from his lips, and Mrs. Lee laughs at the sight.

“He’s really taken a liking to you!”

As she fixes Joon’s hair, Minho enters the kitchen, dressed for the day with his backpack already slung over his shoulder.

“Minho,” his mother says in a scolding tone. “No gum for breakfast. Have a fruit.”

“Can’t,” he replies curtly. “My philosophy exam is today.”

“What does that have to do with depriving yourself of food?”

“It’s bad luck to eat before an exam,” Minho retorts, coming around the granite island to kiss her on the cheek. “Besides,” Minho continues. “I’m ditching my second class, so I’ll be home a little earlier.”

When he turns around, his gaze meets yours, and he instantly stiffens.

His gaze turns cold again, his hands shoving in his jacket pockets as he says nothing to you. He just bows, once, and then turns to exit like he’s suddenly in some rush.

“Bye,” he calls out, and you’re not even sure who he’s addressing it to at this point.

“I should get going, too,” Mrs. Lee says to you. “I’ll call you when we leave the event tonight. And please, feel free to make yourself comfortable after Joon gets put to bed. There’s cash on the table if you want to order something for dinner, and extra blankets are in the upstairs closet if you get sleepy.”

“Thank you,” you say to Mrs. Lee as she gathers her car keys and handbag. And the house is quiet again when you’re all alone, with the exception of Joon’s heavy breathing as he stares at you curiously.

“It’s like a mansion here,” you say to your best friend as you balance Joon in your arms and crane your neck on your shoulder to hold the phone against your ear. “Mrs. Lee is so nice. I thought she’d be stuck up or something, but she’s like a second mother.”

“You hit the jackpot,” your friend voices on the other end of the line. “Any idea how long they need you around?”

“Not sure,” you reply, wiping the granite counter with a rag as you finish up the dishes. “Probably until their son is done with the semester.”

“Son?” She says excitedly. “Is he cute?”

“Please,” you echo, rolling your eyes. “His looks mean nothing considering he doesn’t say a word.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly that. He just doesn’t talk. We go to the same university and it’s like pulling teeth trying to figure out something as simple as what his major is. I think he despises having me around.”

“I mean, to be fair, I wouldn’t love someone in my space 24/7. It’s probably a territorial thing.”

“He’s not a cat,” you respond, laughing lightly. “He’s a grown man. I just get the feeling he doesn’t like me.”

“Well I highly doubt that,” she says, and you can hear her shuffling about on her end of the line.

“Hey, I have to go,” she chimes in. “But I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with baby Joon and the cat man.”

“Thanks,” you reply, chuckling to yourself.

As you hang up the phone, you turn around to gather the last of the dishes, stopping in your tracks when you’re met with Minho himself.

He’s standing in the kitchen, popping a bubble of gum with his teeth, his gaze locked coldly on yours as he observes the place.

That’s right- he did say he would be home a bit earlier after his exam today. Was he standing there for the entirety of your conversation? You can’t recall how long the phone call lasted, or even the specifics of what you said. But you do know it certainly wasn’t good.

“Hi,” you say nervously, scanning his expression for a hint of what he’s thinking. But he provides you none, kicking off his boots and making his way up the stairs again.

The guilt is still eating away at you two hours later- Minho hasn’t descended the staircase once since the incident, and you can hardly focus on your school work at the thought of what he’s thinking of you.

Here you are, complaining about him seeming “cold” or “off”- the whole time you’re the one talking about him behind his back and stirring up drama. If he hated you before, he definitely despises you now. And if he's as close with his mother as he seemed this morning, you could be out of a job by tomorrow.

In reluctant steps, you ascend the wooden staircase, clutching a small mug of coffee and a stack of buttered toast. You remember Minho saying he’d have breakfast after his exam, a task he wasn’t able to complete due to your impolite conversation earlier. And while you’re not even sure he’s going to give you the time of day anymore, it’s worth a shot to try.

At the top of the staircase, you realize you’re unsure of which room even belongs to Minho. There are rows of doors down the corridor, which you peer into, looking for any sign of him.

A closet, another closet, the laundry room… it feels like a futile task at this point- not to mention, the sinking feeling that you’re intruding, poking into every room in the house like this.

But at the end of the hallway, just across the staircase from Joon’s room, lies one more closed door you haven’t tried yet, and you’re sure this one has to be his.

With a deep breath, you balance the mug of coffee on the plate you’re carrying, bringing your free hand up to knock, just once.

No answer.

You pause for a moment, debating whether to just leave and drop the idea of an apology altogether. But you don’t, instead forcing yourself to knock once more this time, a little harder than the first.

And after muffled sounds of shuffling about, the door finally opens again, Minho standing with a confused expression on his face. He has a pair of earphones in, one side pulled out to hear you, his glasses sat on his face and a number of textbooks on the bed behind him.

“Is Joon okay?” He asks, looking down the hall in panic as you meet his gaze.

“What? Oh! Yes, he’s fine. He’s sleeping.”

“Oh. What are you…”

“I… made you some breakfast. I know you didn’t have any before your exam this morning. And no, gum isn’t a breakfast food.” You chuckle lightly as you hold the items out to him, and Minho looks down at them, blinking a few times before speaking.

“Oh. Uh, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem. Should I leave them with you?”

“Oh, you can put them on the desk over there,” Minho replies, and it’s then that you notice his hands are full with papers. He steps aside to let you in, gesturing to the desk with a piece of paper, and you oblige, clearing the space of a few scattered items and setting down his breakfast.

When you turn around to look at the place, your lips part in awe at the sight of the grandiosity of it. Minho’s room has bigger windows than any of the others you’ve seen, concave around a crescent-shaped seating area that boasts tall ceilings and large glass windows. There are books lining the floors, the desk space and even the window sills, many of them left bookmarked or lying open where they sit.

His giant wooden bed frame is almost hidden behind a hanging curtain, and his desk is nearly inhabitable at the amount of university paraphernalia that lives on its surface.

“Wow,” you say, craning your neck to look around the room. “It’s really nice in here.”

“Thanks,” Minho says awkwardly, toying with a loose hem on his pants.

“You really like reading,” you comment, taking note of the books he has lying around. When you say this, Minho seems to stiffen a bit, shutting some of the books and lining them on their spines along his shelves.

“Yeah,” he mutters, dropping a few books and kicking them away from him.

You nod at him, pursing your lips, well aware that you’re in the midst of yet another awkward interaction with him, but wanting to fulfill the reason you came up here all the same.

“Listen,” you begin. “I wanted to apologize. I don’t know how much you heard of that, but I assume it was enough to be hurt by it. And you’re justified in being hurt. It was totally uncalled for of me to say those things- and sure, you might be a quiet person. But that doesn’t make it okay for me to go around airing it out like it’s my business. In fact I shouldn’t even be on my phone on the job. I’m here to watch your brother, and I get paid for that service, and it’s completely unprofessional-”

“It’s cool,” Minho says, an unchanging expression on his face.

“Oh, um… I mean, if you want to fire me I totally understand.”

Minho chuckles softly, and then shakes his head. “I’m not going to fire you. I am quiet. It’s cool. Really.”

“I mean, I totally get that-”

“Unless you want to be fired?” He inquires with a half-smile, and you chuckle softly in response.

“I really don’t. I love watching your brother.”

“Good,” he replies. “Then we’re all good.”

And although you want to say something else to him, you don’t, feeling as though you should be satisfied with the state of the conversation. You apologized, he forgave you, and you haven’t lost your job. And he’s still quiet, but that’s just who he is.

When Joon wakes from his afternoon nap, it’s nearly 3pm. He’s a crying mess when he’s up again, flailing his arms around to beg for a bottle, which you promptly prepare for him after a diaper change.

With Joon in your arms, you get some chores around the house finished, including vacuuming the rugs, dusting off the furniture and tidying Joon’s toys that are usually scattered about his nursery.

Doing chores wasn’t an agreement between you and Mrs. Lee- in fact, she usually urges you to focus on your schoolwork and take breaks when you’re not caring for Joon. But you want to, feeling compelled to take care of the space as much as you care for Joon. Although tensions are still somewhat present between you and Minho, the Lee household feels comfortable to you by this point, almost like a second home now.

After chores, the library calls out to you again, evening beginning to fall over the neighborhood and painting the sky with vibrant hues of an autumnal sunset.

The windows are still rolled open from earlier, and your velvet couch looks particularly inviting at this hour, beams of sunset setting it aglow and luring you to choose a book from the cherry wood shelves around you.

So you do, selecting a children’s book about animals, comfortably sprawling out on the chair with Joon in your arms. He eyes the book curiously, spreading his short, chubby fingers over the cover and tapping repeatedly, as if asking you to read to him.

And you do, setting the book on your knee to angle the pages toward him, as you begin to vocalize the choppy sentences to him.

“A is for apple, hanging from a tree,” you say, caressing his stubby fingers as he pouts in focus. “B is for buzzing bumblebee.”

Joon’s lips curl into a smile, making his best attempt to clap as you point out the colorful images to him.

“C is for crab, walking in the sand… D is for dolphin, swimming toward the land!”

Joon laughs hysterically now, clapping his little hands and rocking back and forth in your lap. You laugh, too, at his darling reaction, and give him a little kiss on the head as he fiddles with the cover of the book.

It’s moments like this that reaffirm the notion for you that this job was the right idea, after all. You’re inexplicably happy alongside him like this, seeing the world through his eyes and rediscovering things you would otherwise take for granted, like silly picture books or doing chores with him in your arms. You feel so protective of him, eager to make his mom proud and provide a safe, nurturing environment for him as his babysitter- not because you’re paid to do it, but because he now holds a special place in your heart.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from the doorway, and you look up to find Minho standing there, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

“Did you… want something to eat? I was going to order takeout, unless you wanted something else.”

“Sure,” you reply, propping Joon up a little closer to your chest. “Anything’s fine with me.”

“I’ll get Chinese, then,” Minho says nodding. He averts your gaze a little, but you can tell he’s just a little awkward when he’s face-to-face with you like this. And perhaps your best friend is right- perhaps it’s not unusual of him to feel territorial over his household. After all, you are here almost every hour of the day, making yourself comfortable in almost every room, tending to the chores here and eating food from their kitchen. You suppose you would be irritated at the thought of it, too.

As Minho leaves to place an order, you take Joon back to the nursery, where you gently put him to sleep for the evening and program his baby monitor to play calm ocean noises again. It’s like clockwork- he’s out like a light, and the minute he leaves your arms, you’re exhausted, too. The stress of watching over him while balancing your school work might finally be getting to you now- you’re undoubtedly tired, your limbs aching from sauntering about this big house all day with Joon in your arms. And although you’re on a good track, you can hardly remember which assignment pertains to each of your classes these days.

When Minho returns almost an hour later, he holds a thin plastic bag in hand, his other one clutching a fistful of cutlery and two plates. He gives you a small nod when he enters the library, and you put away your laptop to join him on the floor in front of the coffee table.

For a moment, he says nothing as he prepares a plate for you, sliding a cup of wonton soup toward you and dividing portions of chow mein and tofu with wooden chopsticks.

You watch as he breaks a spring roll in half, holding both sides up and comparing to make sure they’re even.

“You’re very precise,” you say with a soft laugh, and a breathy chuckle emits from his lips, too.

“I’m trying to make sure it’s even.”

“However you cut it is fine,” you respond, pleasantly surprised at how polite he is.

When he’s finished dividing your portions, he slides a plate to you, setting a plastic fork down on the napkin beside you and ushering to the food.

“Enjoy,” he says, shooting you a small smile.

And the two of you eat in silence, the room quiet, aside from the sounds of slurping soup present between you two. Although it’s quiet, it feels comfortable, having him keep you company like this. It’s a change of pace from your usual days babysitting in the Lee household.

“How is your school work?” Minho interrupts your thoughts, and you’re momentarily taken aback by him initiating the conversation first.

“It’s good,” you respond, poking at the vegetables on your plate with a chopstick. “It’s on my own time, so I mostly just have to make sure I’m staying on track. But I’m finding it easy to get through despite watching Joon in the daytime.”

Minho nods in response, keeping his gaze set on the bowl of soup in front of him.

“How did your exam go?” you ask, and Minho cocks his head a little. “I got full marks,” he responds after a moment of silence.

“That’s great! I guess you were right about skipping breakfast having something to do with your academic success, then.”

And Minho laughs for the first time- not a chuckle or a giggle, but a laugh, holding one hand up to his mouth as he does. His laugh is gentle and melodic, filling the room around him with its sound, and you can’t help but laugh, too.

“I suppose,” he responds. “I also go nowhere without those philosophy books, so I have them memorized like the back of my hand.”

“Philosophy major?” you voice back, and Minho nods.

“So Love and Limerence is like second nature to you at this point.”

Minho gets a little awkward at this, his smile fading a little as he pokes around his chow mein. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “You could say that.”

And fearing you’ve somehow offended him, you change the subject again.

“Well I’m a business major,” you chime in. “So we don’t get interesting reads at all. And I’m not lugging around a six-pound textbook about returns on investments in my backpack.”

He laughs again, and you feel satisfied at the motion. Making him laugh feels like an exciting feat, like you’ve succeeded at something after trying so hard to. And considering how hard you’ve been trying to break down his walls these days, maybe it is an exciting feat, getting to know the stranger you’ve been sharing a home with for one month now.

“Business is a great field,” Minho says, slurping down the remainder of his soup. “Your parents must be really proud of the direction you’re headed.”

You shrug in response. “They’re indifferent. I don’t have a great relationship with them. They mostly just want me out of their hair once I graduate.”

“You have any post-college plans?” Minho inquires.

“I finished an internship before this whole babysitting gig, actually. I want to travel a bit after graduation, and then I’ll really settle down for the whole 9-5 working life.”

“Where are you hoping to travel to?”

There’s a glint in Minho’s eyes as he presses you for answers, like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. It makes you feel all warm inside- not many people usually care what you’re up to these days, your family trying their hardest to send you away to work another job and your most of your friends having drifted apart when you began university. Even the friends you do have are more distant these days, considering their classes are still in person, and you don’t have a need to be back on campus anymore. It’s a bit of a lonely life you lead, so being here beside Minho feels different, but pleasant.

“I’m not sure,” you say with a smile. “I’m not really sure where I belong yet.”

“Hey, I don’t know where I belong, either,” Minho echoes. “So that makes two of us.”

When the two of you are finished with dinner, Minho takes your plates downstairs, despite you offering, and you’re briefly left alone in the library. It’s much later than usual now, nearing 9:00, when you’re usually home by 7. The house also has a different vibe to it this hour, many of the rooms feeling much dimmer despite the same lamps being on, and the corridors feeling much quieter and more haunting. You feel a wave of sleepiness wash over you, and though you don’t want to be asleep when Mrs. Lee arrives, you can’t help but shut your eyes for a few minutes. You can still make out the shape of the bookshelves behind your heavy eyelashes, trying your best not to close your eyes completely, but your mind has already wandered off to slumber, and inevitably, your body follows shortly after.

You’re somewhere between sleep and consciousness when you feel Minho enter the room once again, looming over you like he wants to ask you something. But he says nothing- instead, he unfolds a knit blanket above you, sprawling it out over your legs and pulling it up to your torso. And you hadn’t realized how cold you were before he did, because you’re almost instantly with a wave of warmth and comfort over your listless body.

It feels almost uncharacteristic or Minho to carry out an action this polite- but as he takes his seat across from you, watching as you doze off peacefully, you think he may finally be coming around to you.

“I’m ditching my second class again today,” Minho announces the next morning at breakfast. He doesn’t eat much, you notice, as he bites into a single apple and hoists his backpack further up his shoulders.

“I’ll be home a bit earlier,” he then continues, eyeing you a little, and you give him a little nod.

“Then help with lunch,” Mrs. Lee says, gathering her own briefcase for work. “Y/n shouldn’t do it all by herself when you’re here.”

“Oh, it’s no worry at all,” you quickly chime in, not wanting to be the reason Minho refutes his mother’s words. “It’s what I’m here to do, after all.”

“No worries,” Minho says back to you. “I’ll be home around noon and we can prepare something together.”

For some reason, your heart flutters a little at the implication of doing something alongside Minho- something so planned and seemingly intimate. You normally just take the days as they come, so having a commitment hanging over your head like this is a little nerve-racking. And in all your worrying, you don’t respond to Minho, realizing only as he’s exiting the house with his apple in hand.

“I might be late again today,” Mrs. Lee turns to you, snapping you out of your trance. “But Minho can stay for the remainder of the time. I’ll still pay you the full amount like I did yesterday-”

“I’m happy to stay again,” you reply to her. “Like I said, it’s what I’m here to do.”

She smiles in return, clasping her hands and gesturing to the food on the table.

“I can’t get Minho to eat for the life of me, but help yourself to whatever you’d like. And thank you again, for staying.”

You’re reading to Joon in the living room when Minho arrives home from school. He kicks off his shoes dramatically, tossing his bag on the floor and breathing out a heavy sigh while you thumb through the pages of a new picture book.

“Hi,” Minho says first, his expression remaining stoic and unchanging.

“Hey,” you reply, hoisting Joon a little further up in your arms. “How was school?”

“Terrible,” he responds, making his way around the granite island to collect another apple.

“Why’s that?”

“Professor Kim,” he says curtly, polishing the apple on his button down shirt before taking a generous bite. “A three hour lecture on a Friday really wasn’t a smart choice. ”

You chuckle a little to yourself, adjusting your position on the floor and trying to balance Joon in your embrace. Minho takes notice of your struggle, abandoning his apple on the counter to come take Joon from your arms.

“Thanks,” you say, dusting off your legs as you stand again. “I’m going to get started on something for Joon to eat if you want to wait around. Unless you’re sticking to this exclusively-apple diet.”

Minho chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “I’ll help. We don’t have much prepared right now and I really need to go grocery shopping.” He secures Joon in his high chair, cocking his head toward the fridge.

“Could you just grab his orange juice? It should be the blue bottle on the right.”

And you comply with his request, promptly locating the blue sippy cup and handing it to Minho.

“Thank you,” he says, setting it down on the white tray in front of Joon and twisting it open. “This should be enough to hold him off until we can whip something up with the few ingredients we have. I want to do something with those sweet potatoes, they’re reaching the end of their time.”

Joon is a little fussy as he reaches for his sippy cup, flailing his arms around and sliding the cup across the tray to the edge. The cap seems to loosen as he does, tilting dangerously to one side.

“I got it,” you say to Minho, as you approach Joon. You retrieve the cup from the edge of the tray, twisting off the cap again to secure it properly. And as you do, Joon lets out a particularly loud yelp, knocking his hand toward you and letting the bottle fall off the tray entirely.

As you realize what’s happening, you bring two hands up to push it away from you, but you’re too late- the entirety of the bottle’s contents are spilt onto your shirt, completely soaking you and dripping onto the floor with loud, wet noises.

Minho doesn’t see what happened, but he turns around at the sound of your loud gasp, his eyes widening at the sight of you. Even your hair’s gotten wet, stringy pieces falling into your face, damp with the tangy scent of orange juice and dripping down your shirt. His mind races with guilty thoughts, feeling as though he should have stayed watching Joon, being the one to have been caught in the crossfire of his tantrum instead. Joon’s always fussy before meals- he knows this very well. As his mind races with the urgency to grab a towel, a rag- something, his eyes graze to your t-shirt, and he practically freezes.

Your thin white t-shirt is soaked like the rest of you, painting a clear outline of your black bra as the cold contents drip down your chest and torso. The see-through fabric sticks to your body like a cellophane wrapping, outlining every inch of you, every curve and every raised goosebump as you shudder at the sensation. Minho’s eyes remain locked on your dampened breasts for an embarrassing amount of time, taking careful note of the way your hardened nipples practically protrude through the thin white fabric, almost appearing increasingly noticeable with every passing second. The delicate curves of your stomach are accentuated with your skin-tight shirt, even your navel now visible.

A shake of your hands finally snaps him out of his trance, and you wrap your arms around yourself in a futile effort to cover yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you utter to him, at a loss for words at the notion of being so exposed to him. And Minho is quick to shake his head, now scrambling for a towel.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, pulling a towel off the oven handle and sliding it to you. “Here, use this and I’ll go get a larger towel from upstairs and a change of clothes.”

You want to deny the offer, feeling shameful for having already intruded this much on the Lee household and still needing more from them. But as you look down at your t-shirt, you know you don’t have a choice, the fabric now feeling cold and uncomfortable as it sticks to your flesh.

“Thanks,” you say to him, giving a small nod and not moving your hands from your chest.

And Minho retreats upstairs quickly, trying his best to avert his gaze as you remain in the kitchen.

As Joon babbles incoherently next to you, you can’t help but feel stupid, a sense of shame and embarrassment replacing the excitement you had to be preparing lunch alongside Minho for the afternoon. You’re in disbelief he’s practically seen you half naked like this, and you feel inadequate at not being able to stop Joon from committing the incident in the first place. As you run your hands up and down the raised goosebumps on your arms, you do your best to hold back tears, hoping Minho won’t think less of you for being caught in such a humiliating accident.

Minho is gone for a little while, and you blot at the wet patches on your shirt as you wait, Joon now laughing at your messy state. You can’t help but laugh a little, too, admittedly amused at what a disaster the afternoon has been- and you haven’t even begun the cooking part of it yet.

When he returns, he tosses you a large white bath towel and a gray t-shirt, still keeping his gaze on the floor instead of on yours.

“Here,” he says simply, his veiny arm scratching the back of his head. “I can also get a sweater if you’re cold.”

As you observe the t-shirt, you realize it’s one of his, not one of Mrs. Lee’s. For some reason, you’d assumed Minho would opt for a woman’s clothes as your change, but the t-shirt has clearly been pulled from his closet, and you blush a little at the idea of wearing his clothes.

“This is fine,” you reply, wrapping the bath towel around your body and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

You peel the sticky clothes off your body, crumpling them into a pile and changing into Minho’s t-shirt. It’s a bit large on you, but it’s much more comfortable, hanging loosely off your body and covering every bit of you that was previously exposed. His shirt smells like him, too, a pleasant scent of laundry detergent and his musky cologne.

When you exit the bathroom, you gesture to the change of clothes, your wet crumpled clothes balled in your hand. “I kinda look like you now,” you say, and Minho chuckles.

“You can keep it,” he responds, giving you another once-over and nodding shyly. “It looks better on you, anyway.”

He holds his hand out to you for the wet clothes, which he kindly takes from you to put in the wash. As he does, you go to the fridge to retrieve more orange juice for Joon- except there is none. You desperately search for milk, orange juice- any form of a snack that will keep him busy until his mealtime. But the kitchen is void of anything he can consume, and you begin to panic a little, knowing Joon hasn’t eaten in a good while now.

“That was the last of his orange juice,” you say to Minho when he returns. “And there’s not much else for him to snack on.”

Minho searches the kitchen too, digging through cabinets and moving around jars in the fridge to check for expiration dates. But he quickly realizes you’re right- the fridge is even more sparse than he’d assumed it to be.

“I guess we’ll have to make a trip to the store, then. How do you feel about strapping him into a car seat?”

“I’ve never done it,” you reply nervously.

“I can show you,” Minho says, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter and spinning them around his index finger. “We can do it together.”

The nearest grocery store is just 20 minutes out from the Lee household. Minho drives a fancy black SUV, and he guides you through how to strap Joon into his car seat, which you carry out with no issues. He drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the center console as you chat with him about your university courses. For the first time, you notice how Minho seems much more comfortable around you now, cracking jokes occasionally and smiling at your stories about your afternoons alone with Joon. When Joon chimes in from the back seat with his excited babbling, you and Minho babble equally in response, sharing laughter at the ridiculous exchanges among the three of you.

You opt to carry Joon inside the grocery store while Minho walks alongside you, checking off a list he routinely uses to stock up on all of Joon’s favorite foods. And the atmosphere around you is homely, instilling the same sense of comfort in you as your afternoons alone with Joon. One that reminds you why you’re doing this job in the first place- you feel respected here, like your efforts don’t go unnoticed, and like you belong. It fills the lonely void inside of you with the sounds of Joon’s laughter, Minho’s tales of his classes and the trivial tasks of grocery store runs and learning to maneuver a baby car seat.

“I think that’s it,” Minho says as he checks the list one last time. “Milk, juice, bread…” he reads the items one by one again, and then nods affirmatively when he’s ensured they’re in the basket.

“That’s it,” he repeats, shooting you a small smile. “Let’s go pay.”

An older cashier gestures you to her lane at the registers, beginning to scan your items as Minho places them down on the conveyor belt. And then she gives a little wave to Joon, who curiously stares back at her.

“What a beautiful baby,” she says, pausing from scanning with a jar of mashed carrots in her hand.

Joon smiles in response, a trickle of drool escaping his lips.

“And what a beautiful family,” she continues, looking back and forth between you and Minho. “It’s not easy being young parents, but I can tell the two of you are doing a fine job at it.”

“Oh,” you say, chuckling lightly. “We’re not-”

“Thank you,” Minho interrupts, placing an arm around your waist and pulling you a little closer to him.

“We don’t get told that very often.”

You almost freeze at the contact, butterflies erupting in your stomach as he keeps his hand on the small of your back. This woman thinks the two of you are a couple- and worse, Minho is playing along with it. You can’t figure out why he’d entertain such a blatant lie, but you don’t interrupt him either, curious to see where he’s taking this little bit.

“People can be so unfair,” the cashier replies, shaking her head. “As long as the child is cared for, your status shouldn’t matter.”

“Exactly,” Minho replies, throwing his hand in the air like she’s making a point that pertains to him. “You know, when we got married, everyone told us it would never work. And now look at us- our child just turned 1 and we’re already making plans for a second honeymoon.”

“That’s amazing!” The woman says, clasping her hand over her heart like she’s touched by the bogus story.

“It is, isn’t it honey?” Minho says, turning to you.

Thoughts swirl your mind about this performance he’s putting on, but you’re undoubtedly entertained by the whole thing, stifling laughter as you nod in response.

“It is amazing,” you say finally. “We eloped and had a shotgun wedding- booked it to Italy right after and now we’re thinking of taking the little one to Paris for a real ceremony.”

The older woman removes her glasses now, wiping her eyes and shaking her head in disbelief. You can’t help but feel bad for her, seeing how easily she’s falling for your blatant lies, but Minho shows no remorse, grinning ear to ear and keeping his hand on the small of your back.

“Well I’ll tell you what,” the woman says, putting her glasses back on and shifting her eyes around the store.

“Since you guys just made my day, I’m going to provide you with our senior discount. It’s not everyday I see a young couple so beautiful raising such a darling little child.”

“Oh, you really don’t-” you start to say, and Minho interrupts you before you can finish.

“That would mean the world to us,” he says in an exaggerated voice, giving the cashier a little bow. “It would help us out a ton.”

You want to protest, to slap Minho in his pretty little face and ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing lying for a discount like this, but you’re afraid the cashier will see right through your whole stunt and reprimand both of you. So you just nod and let Minho take the lead again.

“Thank you,” you echo back to her,” holding Joon’s stubby little fingers as the woman types a lengthy code into the computer.

And Minho smiles at you, shooting you a little wink as he gathers boxes of cereal and jars of food in his arms.

“What was that?” You practically yell as you exit the store, balancing Joon in one arm and a bag of groceries in another. “You totally lied to her.”

“I didn’t lie,” Minho says. “I told her a different reality.”

“That is literally what a lie is,” you echo back to him, securing Joon in his car seat and lining grocery bags on the floor. Minho slides into the driver's seat again, putting his keys in the ignition but not yet starting the car as he waits for you to get in, too.

“I mean, that was like a 10% discount,” you continue, huffing frustratedly as you wait for him to speak. “How is that worth telling someone a whole list of lies?”

“You know, there’s this really cool theory called the anthropic principle,” Minho begins, looking straight ahead through the windshield. “Suggests the existence of a multitude of universes.”

“What?”

“So,” he continues. “Philosophically speaking, maybe in one of those we're married, and we have a child, and our honeymoon was in Italy.”

You stay quiet for a moment, pondering his words, completely unsure of if he’s flirting with you or teasing you right now.

“And maybe,” he chimes in again. “In one of them, we robbed the store and killed the cashier. And in another, we don’t even know each other.”

“What are you getting at?” You say, narrowing your eyes in confusion.

“It’s not lying,” Minho says with a smile as he finally starts up the car. “We just told her about a different reality.”

“So it’s lying,” you say with a smile, unable to hold back the giggle that escapes your lips.

“A little,” he finally says. “But it was fun, right?”

And you start to say no, but you can’t get the words out, aware you’ll be lying twice today if you do.

Minho takes your silence as confirmation, a grin plastered on his face as he rests one arm behind your headrest to pull out of the parking lot. And you can’t help but smile, too, the spontaneous thrill of lying to the cashier admittedly being some of the most fun you’ve had all week. And the conclusion stands- Minho’s a little odd. But he’s great company.

Mrs. Lee is late again tonight, the second hand on the clock ticking in slow intervals as it nears 10pm. You yawn for the umpteenth time tonight, exhausted from having done so much today, wanting nothing more than to sleep in the comfort of your own bed at home and mentally recharge for another day of this tomorrow. But you’ve promised to wait for her, always eager to wait it out until the last second, because Mrs. Lee always expresses her sincerest gratitude when you wait for her.

“Sorry, she’s really late today,” Minho says as he lowers the volume on the television. You completed a few more chores around the house after dinner while Minho powered through his schoolwork, putting Joon to bed before settling on the sofa and watching old cartoon reruns. Now you’ve been in and out of sleep for the better part of an hour, Minho remaining close by watching infomercials again, peering at your tired figure and feeling guilty that you’ve been here so long.

“It’s okay,” you reply quietly, letting out another yawn. You cross your arms over yourself, still dressed comfortably in Minho’s t-shirt, and do your best to keep your gaze on the television.

Tonight Minho is stuck on an infomercial for artificial plants, the dull narration lulling you to sleep even further as he checks the time on his watch and glances nervously at the front door.

Minho cranes his neck at your figure again, not missing the way gray bags hang heavy below your eyes, your lashes half-lidded as you feign sleep and force your gaze onto the infomercial.

“Don’t you have an early exam tomorrow?” You say to Minho, another yawn escaping your lips as you speak. “Don’t wait up on my account. You should get some sleep.”

Minho shuts off the television, standing up from where he’s sitting and dusting off his pants.

“I’ll take you home,” he announces, fishing around on the table for his car keys.

“It’s okay,” you reply, not wanting to inconvenience him anymore than you already have today. “I can walk to the bus stop.”

“You’re not walking,” Minho retorts, scoffing as you sit up and rub your tired eyes with the back of your hand. “It’s pitch black outside.”

“It’s fine,” you say, gathering your book bag and rushing to put your shoes on. It’s a race between the two of you now, Minho scrambling to locate his car keys while you get ready to leave for the evening.

“It’s really not a problem- where are my keys?” Minho mutters to himself, patting the pockets on his jacket and rearranging stacks of papers on the coffee table.

“I’m fine, really.”

“No, I’ll drive you,” Minho says, still tossing aside the mess he’s made to locate his keys.

“I’ll walk,” you reiterate again, and Minho finally exhales frustratedly.

“Then I’ll walk with you,” he finally announces, ditching the car keys altogether and stopping to look at you. He looks tired, too, evident bags under his eyes and his hair tousled from running his hands through it frustratedly.

“Minho, I really don’t want to burden you-”

“It’s not a burden.”

As he speaks, you hear Joon’s baby monitor alerting you that he’s awake for the evening, wailing loudly when he realizes that he’s alone. It’s perfect timing, too, Minho already having planned to wake him up so he can walk you back.

“Wait here,” Minho says to you as he begins toward the stairs. “I’ll get his harness.”

The dim street lights illuminate the dark paved roads, a crisp chill in the air as you walk alongside Minho with your hands in your pockets.

Joon sits comfortably in his harness against Minho’s chest, curiously taking in the atmosphere around him as you walk in silence to your bus stop. It’s not a long walk, only 20 minutes from Minho’s, but you feel admittedly much safer with Minho by your side, his and Joon’s presence feeling homely even at this hour. For nearly the entirety of the walk, the two of you say nothing, too tired to engage in conversation, but still comfortable in the presence of each other, and not needing to say anything. Joon babbles saliva every now and then, Minho bringing a finger up to wipe his chin, and the only other sounds are that of crickets and the gentle sway of the trees.

“This is me,” you say to Minho when you reach the familiar blue bench of your stop.

You sit on one side of the bench, slinging your book bag over beside you and crossing your legs. And to your surprise, Minho occupies the other side, one hand resting gently on the back of Joon’s head while the other pats his back gently.

“You don’t have to wait,” you tell Minho quickly, and he just shakes his head silently in response.

The silence between you remains, Joon toying with the collar of Minho’s shirt as you wait for the bus. There’s so much you want to ask Minho, so much you still want to find out from him. You’re well aware that you haven’t quite figured him out yet, but you’re undoubtedly sure that he is a nice guy, after all. From lending you his t-shirt, waiting up for you on late nights, even walking you to your bus stop and waiting for the bus with you. You think briefly back to his little joke at the grocery store, smiling to yourself when you remember he’d chosen to pretend you were a married couple for no other reason than to make you laugh after having had such a rough day. And his innate fascination with looking at everything through a philosophical lens, the passion for his favorite subject so robustly present wherever he goes.

“What’s that theory again?” You ask Minho as your thoughts verbalize amidst the silence.

“Hm?”

“The one about the universe.”

“The anthropic principle?” He questions, and you hum in response.

“Yeah, that one. Do you think there are like, a million versions of us right now, just…sitting here?”

“Sure,” Minho replies. “But the conditions would have to be just right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the theory states that conditions have to be just right for us to coexist in the universe we’re in right now. It’s sort of like a coincidence that this one evolved so that we could thrive in it. So there might be other versions of us, just not as definitive. We might be rocks, or bugs. Or maybe there’s a more advanced version, where we’re still on our honeymoon in Italy.”

“Or the one where we killed that cashier,” you chime in.

“Exactly,” Minho replies, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You ponder his words for a moment.

“Do they all follow the same timeline?” You ask him.

“What do you mean?”

“Do they all last forever? What if we got divorced? Would we part ways in every universe?”

Minho stays quiet for a moment, thinking back to the philosophical theories tucked in the back of his mind.

“I don’t know,” he finally replies. “I’d like to think some versions have a happy ending, but maybe some of them don’t.”

As silence falls over you again, your bus finally turns the corner, making its way down the street toward your stop.

“That’s me,” you say, getting up and gathering your belongings again.

Minho stands up, too, saying nothing as the bus finally halts in front of you, the brakes screeching to a stop with the loud exhaust of the doors as they open.

“Thanks,” you say to Minho before getting on. “For walking me.”

“It’s no problem,” he replies, shooting you a tired smile.

Minho watches as you board the bus, taking your seat toward the back. He scans the aisles momentarily, making sure you’re sat somewhere safe, away from anyone he might deem sketchy at this hour. And when he feels confident you’ll make it home okay, he brings Joon’s hand up in front of him, giving you a little wave as he watches you smile back through the tinted windows, sending him off with a wave back.

From then on, things shift between the two of you. Minho is a constant, always offering to walk you home on late nights to engage in discussions about your university work or his favorite theories. When he’s home early from his classes, the two of you enjoy cooking for Joon together, making trips to the grocery store where the cashiers are now fully convinced you’re a married couple. On late nights, the two of you often engage in lighthearted philosophical debates while you wait for Mrs. Lee to get home for the evening. When he’s walking you home for the night, doing homework alongside you or just passing by, Minho indulges you in all his favorite philosophical questions, and you entertain them, using the opportunity to get a better glimpse into his mind and how he thinks.

It’s exactly this that tears down Minho’s walls, you find- he, in all his philosophically-educated glory, sharing his perspective while you poke holes in his arguments and reach a conclusion together. Sometimes you’ll reach a stalemate, the argument fizzling out with no clear answer. And sometimes he can change your mind almost instantly, the arguments leaving his lips like second nature, always quick to persuade you in the opposite direction and provide clear reasoning. He’s very skilled at his work, and you quickly realize why he’s so passionate about philosophy in the first place.

It’s not something Minho’s used to yet- having a companion like this, one who actually cares about anything he has to say. Someone to come home to, somebody to bask in the simplicities of life with and affirm that he’s not completely incapable of making real human connections. And admittedly, maybe he loves playing house with you, coming home to your home-cooked meals and caring for the baby together.

Maybe this version of the universe deems you a babysitter, and he, just an outcast. But sometimes Minho swears he can see different versions where you’re so much more than that to each other.

In late November, you take your first week off, leaving on a small family trip to a city just a few hours out to go see extended family.

You tell Minho of your little excursion the week prior, and he pretends to be disheartened, but you know deep down he must be relieved to have some space to himself again. Of course you’re not able to watch Joon, and Mrs. Lee has a friend watch him in your absence, but you’re surprised at how much you miss the Lee household when you’re not there. The trip to the city is filled with repetitive questions from family about your major, your internship, your potential salary in an entry-level position and general university questions. And yet all you catch yourself thinking about is Joon, and Mrs. Lee and especially Minho.

You wonder what he’s doing in the comfort of his grand room all by himself, surrounded by books and tall windows. Minho once told you that he can go a whole day without talking when he’s not having philosophical debates with you over coffee. You wonder if he’s talked today, or if he attended his classes or how his exam on Tuesday went. Thoughts of him plague your mind every waking second- whether Minho would like a certain food, if Minho would agree with this statement, even what the people around you would think if you dragged him along and played house with him like you do back home. In this version of the universe, maybe he’s reading a book or watching a movie, but in another, he could be right here, telling his string of lies to your extended family.

On the last day of your family vacation, you find yourself in an old bookstore, and all you can think about is Minho. He’d love it here, you think, grazing your fingertips along the old cracked spines and yellowing pages. And as you scan through the philosophy section, several of the books already piquing your interest, you spot it.

The small familiar crimson book, just barely larger than your hand, delicate to the touch and painted with the same Cupid depiction as the one you know so well. A first edition copy of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence. You can’t help but smile to yourself, scanning the book’s contents briefly before closing it again and bringing it up to the counter. It’s not like you’re trying to worsen this little developing crush you have on Minho, but he seems to be everywhere you go- and candidly, you just want to have him figured out.

When you return to the Lee household from your vacation, the atmosphere is calm, sunbeams shining through the large glass windows and illuminating the house with a romantic glow. Joon eats his breakfast well, downing his orange juice and causing you little trouble throughout the day. And Minho arrives just after 3, his backpack slung over his shoulder and a book in hand.

Your heart beats erratically to see him again, trying your best to avert his gaze as he enters through the front door and kicks off his shoes. When he makes his way through the kitchen, you attempt to look busy, wiping down the counters with a kitchen rag and balancing Joon in your arms.

“Hi,” Minho says, a little shyly as you keep your eyesight on the granite counter below you.

“Hey,” you respond, pretending like you hadn’t noticed him enter the room, when in reality, you’ve been well aware of his arrival since he parked his car out front.

“How was your trip?” Minho asks, setting down his backpack and loosening the collar of his sweater.

He’s dressed for the chilly weather outside, a simple black knit sweater paired with blue jeans.

“It was good,” you reply, folding the rag with one hand and setting it aside. “I kinda missed it here.”

Minho smiles at you nervously, toying with the hem of his sweater as he hears you speak.

“It was pretty quiet without you here. I think Joon missed you.”

“Did he?” You question excitedly, poking at Joon with your finger and cooing at him. “Is that right? You missed me?” And Joon giggles excitedly, smiling between the two of you.

When the room falls quiet again, Minho clears his throat like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, instead keeping his gaze fixed on yours. The room is teeming with awkward tension between the two of you, two hearts clouded in desire to act on this conflicting emotion of fleeting lust and a mutual understanding of each other, but neither one of you say anything, letting it die with your silence and circle your minds aimlessly again.

“I got you something,” you say suddenly, and Minho’s heart quickens a little.

“Me?” He questions, pointing to himself as if you need clarity of who he speaks of.

“Yes, you. It’s in my bag upstairs.”

And you begin your ascent to the staircase, motioning for Minho to follow you as you bring Joon with you.

“Close your eyes,” you tell Minho when you‘ve entered the library again.

“Should I be scared?” He asks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Close them!” You exclaim, and he finally puts his hands out in front of him, shutting his eyes, a big grin plastered on his face. You place the book in Minho’s palms gently, making sure to position it so that the cover is facing him properly.

“Now open.”

When Minho opens his eyes again, he doesn’t even need to read the words before knowing what it is. He’s immediately familiar with the first edition of Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerence he holds in his hands, uniquely characterized by the contrasting art style to his, and the much older, yellowing pages.

“My book,” Minho says, biting his lip as he holds back a bigger smile, one that will most definitely point to the incriminating fact that he’s smitten.

“Your book,” you echo, leaning on the wall across from him. “It’s a first edition. The bookkeeper said they’re pretty rare to come by.”

“You didn’t have to-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, fixing Joon’s hair and averting Minho’s gaze. You’re afraid if you make eye contact with him, this whole nonchalant front will crumble down in front of you, because you’re embarrassingly smitten with him, too.

“Thank you,” Minho says, thumbing the raised gold-foiled cover outline of Cupid. “I’ll go put it with the rest of them.”

And he disappears down the corridor, his book tucked in the endeared clutch of his hands.

While Minho adds his book to the rest of his collection, you put Joon down for his nap, gently placing him on the soft blanket in his crib and adjusting the baby monitor. He blinks up at you a few times, his lips pulling into a shaky smile as his lashes finally flutter shut and a wave of sleepiness washes over him. You exit the room quietly, closing the door just halfway like you always do, and then make your way down the corridor to Minho’s room. The door is left ajar, but you hear him shuffling about, and you enter after giving a gentle knock.

Minho seems startled at this, jumping up from where he’s standing, in front of his bookshelf with Love and Limerence held open in the palms of his hands. He shuts it quickly, shoving it on the top with another stack of books, and then almost shields his bookshelf as he turns to face you.

“I didn't hear you come in,” he says, nervously shifting his eyes to more stacks of books on his window sill and nightstand.

“I put Joon down for his nap,” you reply, cocking an eyebrow as he stands there awkwardly. “Is… everything okay?”

“Yes,” he says quickly, blinking nervously when he sees you peer over his torso at the bookshelf.

“Where’d you put it?”

“Can’t remember,” Minho says, a breathy chuckle emitting from his lips as he tries his best to avoid talking about it. But you catch on- and you’re certainly not going to let him evade the subject.

“What are you hiding?” You finally ask, eyeing him with a small smile. Minho’s face drops a little, sighing once as he steps aside and grants you full visibility of his bookshelf. There’s nothing out of the ordinary- books of all colors and sizes lined neatly on the shelves, some of them left open or bookmarked. A good amount of them appear to be philosophy books, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you.

“It’s just your books,” you say flatly, and Minho scratches the back of his head before he speaks again.

“Love and Limerence isn’t a required read for university.” He says in a low voice.

“Oh,” you reply, unsure of why it should really matter to you.

“None of them are,” he continues. “It’s just my personal… collection. Of romance novels.”

And then you finally understand.

Minho- the stoic, otherwise quiet being, in all his philosophical studiousness and awkwardness, is a sucker for romance. Once the cogs begin turning in your head, they don’t stop, everything about him now making a little more sense to you. Why he stays locked up in his little tower all day reading book after book, why he’s so hopeful when he speaks of the human condition and of love, why he loves taking care of people so much. He’s just a big softie underneath it all.

“There’s nothing weird about that,” you chime in. “In fact, it’s really cool.”

“Yeah right,” he retorts.

“I’m dead serious. I’ve never met someone with so many copies of Thorns and Roses before.”

Minho shakes his head, moving to sit on his bed with his palms tucked under his legs. His gaze remains locked on the floor, an expression of shame still visible on his face. And when you see him exhale deeply, like he’s been nervously holding his breath all this time, you feel bad for him. If there’s anything you’ve learned about him since meeting him, it’s that he’s really a bit of a dork. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him look so vulnerable before.

“Which one’s your favorite?” You ask, skimming your finger along the neat row of spines.

He shrugs. “Pride and Prejudice, maybe. But these days it’s Love and Limerence.”

Minho’s voice is trembling, just above a whisper as he reads off his list of favorite novels to you. And you chuckle softly in reply, pulling the little red book out of its respective home on the shelf and tossing it to him.

“Read me your favorite passage.”

He furrows his brows a little, like he thinks you might be making fun of him. But when you take a seat next to him on the bed, wide-eyed and gesturing to the book in his hands, he realizes you’re genuinely asking him to.

“Go on,” you say, gesturing to the book once more.

Minho opens the book to the middle, flipping through yellowing pages with small font. Most of the pages are littered generously with blue sticky notes, Minho’s messy handwriting annotating all his favorite passages. When he finds the page he’s searching for, he eyes you cautiously, as if waiting for permission to begin reading. And with a deep breath, he begins, his voice shaking a little as he finds his footing.

“Now by these presents let me assure you that you are not only in my heart, but my veins, this morning. I turn from you half abashed--yet you haunt me, and some look, word or touch thrills through my whole frame--yes, at the very moment when I am labouring to think of something, if not somebody else.”

At the last words, his gaze meets yours again, eyelashes trembling as he waits for your reaction. He waits for you to laugh, or to dismiss the words, or leave altogether. But you just stare back at him, your heart beating erratically at the poetry he utters, completely in awe with him.

He feels otherworldly at this distance, this intricate fascination with love and human connection. The way his brown tresses fall loosely in front of his big eyes as he speaks, his plump lips pulling into a nervous smile to reveal the row of skewed teeth you find a home in every time. He’s like the passage reads- thrilling your whole frame, consuming you whole and filling your mind with thoughts of him, and his poetry and his kind demeanor. You find yourself a little closer to him, your eyes darting to his lips and then back to his curious eyes, fantasies of him running rampant in your mind.

And Minho keeps his gaze locked on yours, too, leaning in a little closer to you, the book closing on its own as his hand slips away from holding it open and onto the bed beside you. The implications are there, the atmosphere around you heavy with desire and uncertainty, and just as you wield the courage to bring your lips a little closer to his, you’re promptly interrupted.

“Minho-ah!” A voice calls from downstairs. You quickly clock it as Mrs. Lee’s, who must be home early from work.

“I’m home early!” She calls again, confirming your theory, her footsteps getting louder as she makes her way up the stairs.

You sit up promptly, smoothing down your shirt and standing to bow when Mrs. Lee pokes her head in the doorway. Minho stands up too, making the whole situation look unbearably obvious, and you pray she can’t tell what’s going on between the two of you.

“Y/n,” she says with a warm smile. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you I would be home a little earlier today. Joon has a doctor’s appointment.”

“No worries at all!” You voice back, bowing again as she smiles. “I was actually going to leave early today. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Oh, do you want a cup of tea?” She asks, heavy concern present in her voice.

“No thanks, I think I just need some sleep.”

You turn to Minho, who’s standing with his hands in his pockets, looking a little disappointed as you give him a small bow.

“Take care,” you say to him, pivoting to head back to the library and gather your things.

Minho hears his mom see you out of the front door, chatting briefly with you about your trip and sending you off with a little wave.

He shuts his bedroom door and locks it, sprawling out on the duvet of his bed and running his hands over the book still beside him.

He’s not sure what happened- whether you were about to kiss him, or whether it was just wishful thinking. But every way he interprets the encounter, Minho swears he can feel your yearning for him, too. Is he crazy to think you might feel the same? Maybe he, too, finds it laboring to think of something- if not, someone else, besides you.

Joon is a particularly picky eater in afternoons, making a big fuss of foods he usually devours in the mornings and evenings. He skillfully dodges every spoon, every bite and feigns his interest in even his favorite snacks and desserts. And while you’re usually patient with him, today you’re frustrated, having mentally scolded yourself several times since yesterday’s events.

A part of you wants to ditch all of this, reminding yourself that you’re here to work a job, not lust after the son of the person who hired you. But the other part of you can’t help but imagine how things would be different if you just let yourself fall gracefully into him- he’s so much more than a fleeting thought to you. You want to understand him, having challenged yourself to figuring him out from the moment you came across him. But maybe you want him to understand you, too. You want him to understand that you feel at home whenever he’s around, his philosophical discussions and this game of house you play making you feel like you belong here. You want him to understand that although you know he feels like an outcast, none of his odd quirks matter to you when he’s reading his favorite love stories across from you in the library, catching glimpses of you when he thinks you’re not looking. And that maybe this universe conditioned itself just right so that you took up this job and crossed paths- and that has to mean something bigger.

There’s nothing different about the afternoon following yesterday’s, except for you spending a considerable amount of time on your hair and makeup, the anticipation bubbling inside you at the idea of seeing Minho again. You have no definitive plan, no script of how it’s going to go when he arrives from school. But you also know there’s something in your throat that wants so desperately to get out, and you won’t let it. As Joon toys with the cereal in his bowl, he looks up at you with big, curious eyes, and you wonder what he’s thinking, if anything. He doesn't know anything beyond the simple tasks of eating and sleeping, living with the comfortable knowledge that he’s being cared for. And although it seems much easier, you can’t help but sympathize. What a gift it is to feel- what a gift it is to carry emotions so deeply they eat away at you like this.

You’re infatuated with Minho- that fact stands true. And whether or not it benefits you to do anything about it, you’re determined to do something with all of this feeling, lest it slips through your fingers like he almost did.

You don’t hear Minho come home when he does, busy in the garden tending to Mrs. Lee’s plants when the usual alert of his car pulling into the driveway passes you by. So when he wanders the corridors searching everywhere for you, you don’t take notice.

Minho’s desperate, hoping to ask you to stay just a little bit longer tonight, having also had the epiphany that he’s completely fallen for you, too. And what he hopes to do with it, he’s unsure- but he does know that every romance novel on his shelf would refute the idea of letting this feeling dissipate. Kiss her, tell her, do something. Anything.

He strides down the halls with purpose and vigor, a nervous smile pulling at his face at the thought of seeing you again. It’s all he’s thought about today, having had just two hours of sleep as he sorted out what to say to you. And while he’s not well-versed in the practice of confessing his love, he feels his whole life has been devoted to the very purpose of being here and finding you. The debates you share, midnight walks to the bus stop, the book- he’d be a fool not to reciprocate what you yearn for. And when he doesn’t find you, Minho feels the familiar pit of worry form in his stomach. He’s not accounted for a change of plans, or even what might happen if you reject his admission. He wants to believe so badly that the answer is yes, risking everything just to say something.

20 minutes after he’s been home, Minho receives a phone call, answering in a rush while he checks the upstairs rooms for you.

“Hello?”

“It’s Sujin from class,” the phone at the other end says plainly. “I’m here for our project.”

And Minho freezes, remembering very well that he has a project due very soon, and his partner is here tonight to work on it with him. He sighs heavily into the line at the change in plans, knowing he’ll have to bottle his emotions another day and act on them tomorrow when he can get you alone.

“Oh, right,” Minho responds, making his way to the stairs and jogging down them. “The door should be unlocked.”

He stuffs his phone in his back pocket, making his way to the door to meet Sujin, and as he passes the sliding door to the backyard, he finally sees you. Knelt on the ground in a white sundress, your hands tainted with soil as you tend to the tomato plants and hum to yourself. Minho smiles at the sight of you, the urge to tell you right now stronger than ever. But before he can call out to you, Sujin’s already made her way inside, peering curiously around the place and clutching her purse in hand.

“Wow,” she says, chuckling lightly. “You didn’t tell me you were rich.”

Minho scratches the back of his head awkwardly as she grazes a marble sculpture with her fingers. His eyes remain on you through the glass door, transfixed by the way you tuck your hair behind your ears and pat your dress as you stand up again. Sujin takes note of Minho’s evident distraction, briefly glancing out the window and back to him.

“Where are we working?” She asks, pursing her lips together.

“We can work upstairs,” Minho explains, as you finally make your way inside.

At first you’re confused at the sight, Minho looming over a girl much prettier than you, her long hair styled neatly over one shoulder and a matching formal two-piece hugging her curves beautifully. And then as you see her begin up the stairs in the direction of Minho’s room, you finally understand.

Of course there’s another woman.

Of course there was a catch to all of this, because why else would things condition themselves so perfectly that you’d win him over?

And suddenly everything feels pointless- confessing to him, feeling any ounce of emotion regarding all of this, even working this job. He has a girlfriend, and she’s much prettier than you are. And he's trailing behind her after giving you a shy nod, likely embarrassed at the fact that you’ll be here tending to his household while he fucks her in his upstairs bedroom.

You can’t help but think that perhaps something got lost in translation, because Minho evidently never liked you, and unless this version of the universe magically conditions to work in your favor just once, it’s going to remain that way.

When the tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes, they don’t stop. You can’t feed Joon without hiccuping through a hot rush of tears that fall from your cheeks onto his tray below him. Joon seems to sense something is wrong, pausing the task of dodging his food to observe the way your face contorts as you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. And when you do stop to look at him, all you can see is Minho, his eyes and lips resembling exactly that of his elder brother’s.

The chores feel like a futile task now, and you let them sit there for the remainder of the evening you’re working for. In fact, the only thing you do complete is the task of getting Joon to bed when the sun begins to set, marching carefully upstairs to not interrupt Minho’s time with his girlfriend. And the word makes you sick, to think that he’s been stringing you along all while having a girlfriend- a fact he so conveniently left out.

Joon goes down without a fuss, and when he’s finally asleep, you escape the confines of the second story to lock yourself in the downstairs living room and complete your school work. How much of that is spent crying instead, you can’t quite remember.

It’s just after 9 when Sujin leaves for the evening, but you’re not awake to take notice when she does. You wake to the familiar sound of infomercials playing quietly on the television in front of you, Minho sitting on the floor in front of the sofa you occupy. His head hangs as he holds a book in his lap, probably some cheesy romance he projects onto him and his girlfriend, and his thin wireframe glasses rest on the bridge of his nose.

The dull narration on the television advertises jewelry tonight, and you let out a sigh as you feel your swollen eyes adjust to the bright screen in front of you. At this, Minho turns around, giving you a sheepish smile as you try to shut your eyes again. But it’s too late- he’s already seen you awake for the evening.

“Hi,” Minho says for the first time today, bookmarking his page and lowering the volume on the television. “She’s late again today, but I saved you some takeout.”

“I’m not hungry,” you reply quickly, sitting up and reaching for your bag. “In fact, I need to go home.”

“Oh, sure,” Minho replies, a little hurt at your rushed tone. “I can walk you-”

“No need,” you say to him, pulling on your sneakers and doing everything in your power to avert his gaze. He furrows his brows a little, knowing you never reject his offers to walk you home.

“Is everything-”

“Fine. I just need to get home,” you reiterate, finally sitting down and smoothing down your wrinkled dress.

Every part of him is annoying you right now, your mind teeming with the reminder that you’ve been wasting your time trying to know him better while he’s been entertaining a whole girlfriend these past few months.

“Y/n, wait,” Minho calls, still intent on telling you tonight, while the feelings remain stronger than ever. But you’ve already crossed the room to the front door, where you avert his gaze so he won’t see you begin to cry again.

“Bye,” you call to him, not even looking back before you’re turning the knob and seeing yourself out. “Tell Mrs. Lee it was an emergency.”

And he wants to ask if it was, but he can’t, staring at your rushed figure jogging down the street as you distance yourself from him before he can string you along any further.

Thus begins the game of avoidance.

It starts through keeping your conversations with Minho as short as possible, not engaging him when he tells you about theories he’s studied this week or what his days on campus were like. When he asks about your day, you give him one-word responses, muttering a simple “fine” before turning your attention to Joon again.

When Minho asks to go to the grocery store, you pretend you have a headache- for three days straight. So he makes the trips solo, balancing bags on one arm and telling you about how the cashiers have begun to ask where his pretend wife’s been. You give him no reaction, nodding as you feed Joon his dinner and glance at the clock for the umpteeth time, desperate to get away from him.

And the mystery woman remains, marching into the Lee household in afternoons like she owns the place, already having memorized the path to Minho’s room as she makes her way up the stairs and doesn’t acknowledge you. She’s beautiful everyday that she’s here, short skirts and long ponytails you can’t seem to look away from. And she’s even more hypnotic when she’s in the presence of Minho, the two of them as a couple certainly a sight for sore eyes. If they were a married couple, you’d reckon they'd be much more distinguished than you and Minho would.

“Do you want a coffee?” Minho peers into the library one night to ask you. You keep your gaze locked on the computer in front of you, trying your best to keep your guard up as he waits for a response.

“No, thank you,” you say coldly, continuing to work on your essay.

When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, Minho enters the room reluctantly, his hands shoved in his pockets as he leans against the doorframe and gives you a once-over. You say nothing, still, holding back your emotions so as not to cause a scene. And Minho can tell something’s wrong in the way that you shift your eyes to him briefly and shake your head as if scolding yourself for doing so.

“Did I do something?” Minho finally asks, his voice a little shaky.

“No,” you say quickly, skimming the same sentence on your laptop screen over and over again.

“Are you… sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He fiddles with a loose thread in the pocket of his pants, keeping his gaze on the floor and thinking about your differing behavior toward him the past week.

“We just haven’t talked much. And you never really leave here anymore. I wanted to make sure I didn’t overstep any boundaries-”

“Overstep?” You interrupt, scanning your eyes over the screen of your computer. “There’s nothing to overstep. I get paid to watch your brother, not hang out with you.”

You feel guilty the minute the words leave your mouth, but you feel even worse knowing he’s just been stringing you along with a girlfriend this whole time. The atmosphere feels akin to when you first met him, awkward and cold, and with tensions high like this, you don’t feel at home in the Lee household anymore.

“Sorry,” Minho says, nodding. “You’re right. I guess I’m overstepping by asking.”

You only look up at him when he leaves, his shoulders sagging as he leaves you alone once again- only this time, you have a feeling he’s going to stop making an attempt to rekindle things anymore.

And you’re right- Minho stops trying entirely. There are no more offers to walk you home, no philosophical debates over coffee or grocery store trips where you act as a married couple. You’re still covered in knit blankets when you fall asleep accidentally on the couch, but Minho doesn’t stick around watching his infomercials to wait up for you anymore. And he still saves you his takeout when he orders, but he leaves it neatly packaged for you in the fridge instead of bringing it up to you like he used to.

You’ve gone from a mutual infatuation for each other to complete strangers once again. The house feels lonely and cold like it once did, your only real human interaction occurring in the few minutes you have with Mrs. Lee at the start and end of the day.

Minho doesn’t talk to you at all, locking himself away in his room like he did when you first started caring for Joon. And when you see him in passing at late hours of the night, he looks indifferent, sagging his shoulders as he averts your gaze with a book in hand and disappears down the corridors again. At some point, you begin to see his girlfriend less- in fact, his stoic composure makes you wonder if something’s happened between them. But as time goes on, you start to realize this is less about his girlfriend- and more about you.

What a gift it is to feel- but also what a curse. To let something consume you so entirely you can barely breathe without it. It’s laboring to think of anything else, of anyone else besides Minho and what he means to you. And as you replay your last interaction in your head for the nth time this evening, you think back to the day you started here. You knew the fundamentals of caring for a baby, having trained just enough to land a job doing it. All you wanted was to be liked by Mrs. Lee, and by baby Joon- and by extension, Minho. This household quickly became someplace you felt like you actually belonged in. But your purpose here has completely diverted from its original path, having prioritized Minho’s complexities and his feelings toward you above what you were hired here to do. You’ve experienced a roller coaster of emotions trying to understand him, and just when you thought you’d cracked him, you realized his heart belongs to someone else. So with the comfortable knowledge in mind that perhaps the universe isn’t, in fact, conditioned for you to mean anything more to him than just a babysitter, you understand it’s time to stop forcing any other version of it.

There’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary two weeks into your avoidance of Minho.

You still haven’t talked, he still keeps his distance and you get paid to perform the job you’re here to do. But one afternoon before Minho’s even home from school, Joon refuses to eat. It starts with a tantrum he throws at breakfast time, which you consider typical as he knocks his cereal onto the floor and waves his hands around restlessly. You can only spoon feed him a couple spoons of yogurt before he’s put down for his afternoon nap. And when you wake him for his post-nap meal, he’s just as fussy. He seems to be bothered by something, crying loudly as you offer him different snacks and try your best to calm him down. But nothing seems to work, and when he begins refusing his bottles late into the afternoon, you start to panic.

Mrs. Lee isn’t home for a few hours, you’re unsure of when Minho gets home and you don’t have any way of getting to a hospital right now. The guilt and the fear eat away at you as Joon cries loudly, his face turning a bright shade of red as snot dribbles from his nose onto his shirt. He must be hungry, and clearly uncomfortable by something, only you’re entirely unsure what. His pacifier doesn’t calm him, nor does his favorite stuffed animal or his favorite television program. When his crying reaches the 10-minute mark, you feel hopeless, well prepared to drag him onto the bus to the nearest hospital yourself, fully convinced you’re going to lose your job. And as you begin to cry, too, the front door opens, Minho walking in with his backpack clutched casually in one hand and his car keys in the other. His girlfriend is with him this time, her head hanging as she uses her phone, completely oblivious to the atmosphere around her.

“Minho,” you call helplessly from the kitchen, and his head snaps instantly to look at you. Your eyes are nearly bloodshot from crying, your sleeves drenched in tears from wiping your eyes and your voice shaky as you speak. It’s the first time you’ve said his name in weeks, you realize, feeling your heart race as you call for him.

“What happened?” Minho asks when he turns the corner, throwing off his backpack and approaching a very fussy Joon.

“He won’t eat,” you reply through hiccups, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweater again. “I’ve tried everything. He won’t stop crying.”

Minho takes Joon in his arms, rocking him gently back and forth, to no avail; Joon starts crying even harder now, dribbling snot onto Minho’s sweatshirt and hitting his chest repeatedly.

“I’ll have to take him to the clinic,” Minho says in a rushed tone, fishing his car keys out of his pocket and making his way toward the door.

His girlfriend finally turns the corner into the kitchen, putting down her cellphone and huffing frustratedly.

“What’s going on?”

“Sorry,” Minho replies, shoving past her with Joon in his arms. “I have to go. We can work on our project another time.”

Your heart drops at the words- project. Project, as in a project for his university. With a classmate.

You want to cry more now, for being so stupidly angry with him over nothing, but you still have to help Minho take Joon to the clinic. Sujin doesn’t protest, quick to exit without so much as a goodbye as Minho scrambles to fetch Joon’s car seat.

“I’ll get him in the car seat,” you say, pulling your sneakers on as he balances Joon in his arms.

“You’re coming?”

“Of course I’m coming,” you scoff, already taking Joon from his arms and ushering him outside. “Go start the car.”

“Lee?” A nurse calls, holding a clipboard close to her chest as she scans the waiting room.

You and Minho both stand up, Minho balancing Joon in his arms as the nurse gestures you to the door.

“Please, follow me.”

Both of you walk side-by-side down the corridor as she double-checks papers on her clipboard, making a sharp right and leading you into a private room.

Minho sets Joon down on the examination table, holding his arms to steady him, and you stand beside him as you wait for the doctor.

“She’s just reviewing the results,” the nurse says, referring to the x-rays Joon took earlier. “She’ll be in shortly to discuss them.”

Minho nods silently as the nurse leaves the room, leaving the two of you alone once again. You say nothing, unsure of how to break the awkward silence as Minho wipes a string of drool from Joon’s mouth and avoids eye contact with you.

You feel awkward, embarrassed and so, so stupid, for having treated Minho like absolute scum because you assumed the worst of him. It breaks you to see him avert your gaze like this, treating you the same way he did when you first crossed paths. He has his guard completely up again, and you’re not sure he’s ever going to let it down around you. As you lose yourself in doubtful thoughts, the door opens, Joon’s doctor sauntering inside and wiping her hands with the strong scent of hand sanitizer.

“Hi there,” she says cheerfully, giving you both a warm smile. “Are we here for baby Joon today?”

“Yes,” you both say in unison, and she laughs a little.

“You two are very synced. They say it happens in the first year of marriage.”

“We’re not married,” Minho chimes in quickly, and you turn to look at him, feeling a pit in your stomach all over again.

“No?” She questions. “My apologies. Is mom here today?”

“I’m just his babysitter,” you say quietly. “This is his brother.”

“I see,” the doctor says, eyeing you both. “Well you may notice I’m fairly calm, and that’s because there’s no terrible news I have to share. Baby Joon is just suffering from a little mucus buildup. He’s probably feeling the impaction, and the discomfort has caused a loss of appetite.”

You feel a weight off your shoulders instantly, relieved that this isn’t a more serious matter. He’s going to be fine, you think to yourself. He’s going to be his normal self as soon as this is over.

“… Just be sure to use a syringe to drain the mucus a couple times per day, and make sure he gets plenty of sleep.”

As the doctor writes Joon a prescription for his saline syringe, you catch Minho’s gaze briefly, shooting him a relieved look. He gives you a small nod in response, as if to say he’s glad you came along. And he is, he just can’t say it out loud.

“I think he’s finally sleeping,” Minho says, patting Joon’s back gently as he stands up from his chair. The two of you have been sat in the library for nearly two hours since getting back home, in complete silence as you read your books and wait for Joon to fall asleep. You take breaks every now and then to drain Joon’s mucus, alternating roles between holding his face still and using the syringe on him. And when he’s finally comfortable again, he dozes back off to sleep, little snores escaping his lips.

Minho leaves the room to put Joon to bed, and while he’s gone, you take the opportunity to pack your stuff and prepare to leave for the night. You feel guilty, not having said much to Minho this evening, especially with the newfound knowledge that this mystery woman was just a partner for his project. But you’re not sure what to say, well aware that he’s probably already decided you hate him, and there’s not much else you can do to fix things.

“He’s down,” Minho says as he re-enters the library.

“That’s good,” you reply with a solemn smile, packing your laptop in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“I should get going.”

“Do you… need me to walk you?” Minho asks a little shyly, and although the offer is tempting, you shake your head no.

“I’ll be fine. It’s really not as unsafe as you’d think.”

Minho just nods, understanding that you still don’t want to be close to him. And he gives you a little bow, before he exits the room and makes his way up the stairs to his own.

As you begin to leave, an object left on the chair across from you catches your eye.

It’s Minho’s book- the first edition copy of Love and Limerence you gifted him. You take the small book in your hands, scanning its contents briefly and examining the pages. He’s already annotated several of them, despite having read the book numerous times now, and you can’t help but smile at his scribbled notes circling all his favorite quotes and underlining them twice. You know it’s valuable to him, despite coming from somebody he probably despises right now, but you decide to take it up to him anyway, not wanting him to lose it.

When you’re outside his door, you give a small knock as it’s left ajar, and Minho hums in response.

You enter quietly, holding the book out to him and shooting him a small smile.

“You left this downstairs,” you say, and Minho reaches for it quickly, embarrassed you might’ve seen some of his annotations.

“Thanks,” he replies, setting it back on his bookshelf of romance novels.

He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him, and you join him at a comfortable distance as he keeps his gaze on the hardwood floor.

For a moment, no one says anything. And then he sighs deeply, before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry. If I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” you’re quick to reply.

“I clearly did,” Minho retorts. “And I know I’m quiet, and I kind of shut myself off from the rest of the world. But I never meant for it to affect you.”

“It didn’t affect me,” you reiterate.

He scoffs lightly in response.

“Why won’t you just say it? You haven’t talked to me in weeks. You don’t even look at me. I clearly did something to push you away.”

You don’t reply immediately, pondering what to say. And ultimately, you let your emotions speak for themselves.

“I was jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of the girl. The one who’s been here almost every night.”

“Sujin?”

“Look, I don’t know, okay? I don’t know who she is or what she is to you-”

“My project partner,” Minho interrupts. “One who hates my guts.”

“Project partner,” you continue. “It doesn’t matter who she is- I like you, Minho,” you finally emphasize, turning to meet his gaze. His lips are parted in shock, his eyebrows furrowed as he hears you speak.

“I’m fucking infatuated with you, and it drives me crazy. I can’t go on vacation without seeing you in the books at the stores, I can’t sleep at night without your stupid theories replaying in my head. And I jump to the worst possible conclusions when you’re even near another girl. I’m going crazy trying to be liked by you- trying to look at everything through the lens of your romance theories or your book quotes, or whatever. But it’s so scary to like someone this much.”

Minho says nothing for a minute, collecting his thoughts as you let go of the breath you’ve been holding. He’s not used to people liking him- let alone being this intrigued by him. And especially when it’s in the form of reciprocation, from the one person he’s infatuated with, too.

“Why is it scary?” Minho questions, facing you now, his eyes darting briefly over your lips and then back up to your worried gaze.

“Because I’m here for a job. I’m not supposed to be feeling all this. You’re not supposed to be part of this.”

“How do you know that?” Minho retorts, leaning in a little closer to you now.

“I just…”

“You’re allowed to feel, y/n. You’re allowed to want this.”

And before you can protest his words, his lips are on yours, kissing you passionately like he’s pacifying the arguments before they can come to fruition. Your heart beats erratically in your chest, your mind racing with a million thoughts about what you’re doing, and what this whole thing even implies, but you shut them out with the rest of your concerns, pressing your thighs together as he brings two hands to your face and cups your chin gently. His lips work against yours so beautifully, so effortlessly, like the two of you have done this several times before. And maybe you have, in all his alternate universe theories- on your honeymoon, on the run from the police- right here in the comfort of his grand bedroom, his hands snaking up to pull off your cardigan as you tug desperately at the fabric of his t-shirt. Minho says nothing between passionate kisses, afraid if he talks you might realize what’s happening and leave. But you won’t leave, especially not when you’ve been dreaming of this, too.

When your cardigan is off, Minho moves a little closer to you on the bed, letting one hand guide itself onto your waist and trace the gentle curve of your body there. He’s delicate with his movements, careful not to startle you with his touches, but he’s also admittedly thought about this for weeks. The thought of you confessing was never something that crossed his mind- he was so sure he’d driven you away after that night. Never in his wildest fantasies had Minho considered the possibility that you were this smitten with him, too. But he did have thoughts of your lips on his, thoughts of your hands intertwined with his and ungodly visions of you under him, right here in his bed. Visions of his mouth on your breasts after you’d accidentally exposed yourself to him in the kitchen and he was forced to give attention to the massive erection that grew in his pants. And after you’d gifted him his favorite book, attentive to the details he’d indulged you in which he never otherwise shared with people, visions of making love to you ran rampant in his mind, filling you up over and over again with remnants of him as a form of saying I’m infatuated with you, too.

Minho’s kisses become needier as your words replay in his head, darting his tongue out to dance against yours with the sounds of exchanging saliva present between your plump, eager lips. He pushes you back gently so that you’re now lying on his pillow, the angle so intimate, the view of his room from here like something you’re not supposed to see. The ceilings appear even larger when you’re flat against his bed, the curtains that drape over his bedpost seemingly miles high.

Minho’s kisses trail down to your neck now, eagerly peppering your flesh in wet kisses as your hands reach up to tangle in his hair, holding him closer to you and letting him graze his lips wherever he desires. You can’t help but feel guilty having him all over you like this when you remember how you’ve treated him these past couple months- criticizing his tendencies to be quiet, intruding on his space and pushing him away because of a girl you’d assumed to be his girlfriend. But you also know most of it has been because you want him to mean more to you- perhaps you’ve just been trying to change things so that in this version of the universe, he’s not just an enigma to you. You want all of this- his lips on yours, his body pressed into you and to give yourself completely to him.

“Just so we’re clear,” Minho says suddenly, pulling away from you to hold eye contact with you. “I’m crazy about you, too. I really like you.”

And you can’t help but smile back in response, pulling him in again to press his lips on yours. He smiles into the kiss, too, satisfied you’re both on the same page. And although your now eager movements imply something more is about to happen, you don’t have to verbalize anything, his fingers snaking up your shirt serving as answer enough.

“Is this okay?” Minho asks, grazing your flesh with his big hands as he toys with the hem of your shirt.

You nod in response, sitting up a little and completing the task of pulling it off over your head and discarding it beside you. You waste no time on your bra, either, reaching around to unclasp it and rid yourself of the fabric without him having to ask. His eyes widen again at the sight, having remembered every curve of your body since that incident in the kitchen. But now in front of him again, he feels his cock swell in his pants, desperate to act on the urge. In nimble movements, his hand cups the mound of your breast, kneading it gently and sighing at the sensation of your soft skin against his. His mouth finds yours again, indulging you in a slow, passionate kiss, and then he trails down until he meets his hand at the mound of your breast, pressing a chaste kiss to your flesh before finally latching his lips around your nipple.

He starts with gentle kisses while your nipple rests between his lips, a string of saliva dribbling down to coat your hardened bud. And then he takes it between his lips with more force, beginning a gentle sucking motion as he gives your other nipple attention with his free hand, circling the tip with his thumb in tender movements.

You sigh beneath him, the sensation sending a shiver up your core, your nipples hardening even more in his touch, now eager for him to give your soaking core some attention. But he takes his time stimulating you, moving to your other breast to take your nipple in his mouth and leave a trail of saliva. Your body shivers when the cool air grazes your wet nipples as he pulls away, and he meets your lips again to kiss you passionately.

While he kisses you, your hands now toy with the hem of his shirt too, signifying for him to take it off. And Minho reciprocates with a little nod, finally pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his bare chest to you. It’s a marvelous sight to see more of his honey-tanned skin, his toned muscles and his broad pectorals practically begging for you to touch them. And just above his stomach, a horizontal pale pink scar, one that he eyes momentarily and then gives you a shy shrug.

You run your fingers along the scar briefly, tracing it in its entirety and bringing your hand up to caress his face.

“I didn’t think I could be any more attracted to you,” you say to him sheepishly, tracing the scar again. “You look like the poetry you’re so obsessed with.”

Minho feels an involuntary smile pulling at his face as he leans in to kiss you again, this time intent on giving himself fully to you the way you deserve.

Your kisses both grow hungrier, needier, as your bodies tangle into each other, and Minho loops a finger into the hem of your panties, tugging them down so that he has access to your sopping cunt. As your hands tangle further into his soft brown hair, his finger traces down the length of your stomach, dipping into every curve and over every inch of flesh he only got a brief sight of. And when he finds your mound, you arch up into him, parting your legs slightly to give him access. Minho doesn’t waste another second, attaching the pads of his fingers to your clit and working you in circular motions as he kisses you. Little gasps escape your mouth as he does, breathing heavily into his kisses and grinding your core closer to him as he quickens his pace, smearing your arousal around your aching clit and circling two fingers around to massage you gently. His cock is now fully erect against his abdomen, prodding into your upper thigh as he trails his kisses down your neck again, but he’s patient, forgiving with his movements, eager to pleasure you first.

As his kisses graze your neck, you tug his boxers over his cock, pulling them down so you’re equal parts undressed. Minho winces a little at the sensation, a bead of precum already dripping down the head of his cock, and you feel yourself clench around nothing at just the sight of him hard for you.

When he takes note of your anticipation, he glances down at his own erection, locking his gaze with yours again as if to confirm again that this is okay. You nod in response, reaching your hands around to loop them behind his neck and pull him a little closer. And then your gaze falls to his cock again, waiting for him to make the next move.

The two of you say nothing as Minho’s hand finds the base of his cock, pumping himself gently before leaning in to kiss you. He lets himself hover closer over you, until his cock is kissing your entrance in the same gentle, wet movements as your lips. You lift your leg up slightly to grant him access, and then in gentle movements as your eyes remain shut, you feel him push his tip inside of you, stretching you out around his girth and causing you to gasp. He’s bigger than you anticipated, even the dripping arousal of your cunt having trouble taking him wholly. But he brings his fingers down to your clit again, massaging you slowly to ease the pain. And it works, your body relaxing around him as he pulls back a little and thrusts in again, this time pushing further until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you. You let out a fervent moan at the sensation, his cock pulsating inside of you as he holds it there, feeling every inch of you clench around him and take him so well now. And then with a gentle kiss to your lips, he begins to move, his hips pulling back slowly to thrust back inside of you.

You feel so full of him, having him exactly as you’d always imagined him- circling your thoughts, hovering over you and finally inside of you, his cock brushing against your cervix so delicately with every thrust. Your labored breaths become one as you pant into each other’s mouths with overwhelming pleasure. Minho steadies himself with one hand on the mattress beside you, quickening his pace a little as he feels his cock twitch inside of you in response to a particularly pornographic moan of yours.

“Fuck,” he breathes, shutting his eyes as he continues to slip in and out of your soaking cunt. “You’re so full of me, aren’t you?”

He brings his lips to your neck again, nibbling the flesh between his teeth and letting it bruise as you moan beneath him.

“I’ve thought about you everyday,” you respond, angling his lips to yours again as he fucks you. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”

“Yeah?” Minho says with a satisfied smile, working circles back onto your clit.

“Yes,” you breathe back, toying with his hair as your arms wrap around his neck. “I wanted you to fuck me like the characters in your romance novels.”

Minho feels his cock twitch again, wincing and slowing his pace so as not to finish just yet.

“I can’t help it,” you whimper underneath him. “I think about you all the time. I think about you fucking me all the time.”

Minho intertwines his hand with yours, pressing it down on your abdomen and letting yourself feel when his bulge fills you up at every thrust, the motion visible beneath your palms.

“Feel that, baby?” He asks between kisses to your drooly lips. “Feel how good I fuck you? Is this what you imagined?”

You gasp at the sensation once you feel it, the bulge of his cock protruding against your palm with every pump inside of you. You nod breathlessly, almost unable to reply to his words now.

“I imagined it, too,” he says, picking up his pace now. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to bend you over the couch and fuck you right there the moment I met you.”

He groans a little as you clench around him and moan in response.

“Minho,” you say breathlessly, not missing the way his cock twitches inside of you once again. “Will you finish inside of me?”

He pauses for a moment, scanning your expression for a sign of whether or not you’re being serious.

“Please,” you beg, as if reading his thoughts. “I’m on birth control. Just want to feel your seed inside of me.”

He shuts his eyes briefly as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in a little closer.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Minho asks, locking his gaze on yours again. “I want to, but I want you to be sure about it.”

“I’m sure,” you say quickly, the last syllable hitching in the back of your throat as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “Please, just wanna feel you fill me up.”

He thrusts harder into you now, the room teeming with the squelching noises of your pussy taking him so effortlessly.

“You like it when we play house like this, huh?” He says, wrapping a hand gently around your throat. “You like imagining me as your husband, don’t you? Fucking you like we’re married?”

And it doesn’t take you more than a second to think before you’re nodding desperately at his words. You do love it, this sense of belonging when you’re in the Lee household. But you also get aroused at this second life you lead alongside him, caring for the baby like it’s one of yours and being fucked by Minho when no one else is around to hear your lewd moans.

“Yes,” you reply, your response muffled by his grasp on your throat. “You make such a good dad.”

“We’d make such good parents,” he emphasizes, kissing you breathlessly. “What do you say I fuck a baby into you and we find out for real?”

You feel yourself contract around his girth at the words, not having considered it seriously, but turned on at the idea of carrying a child just for him.

“Is that what you want?” Minho asks, nearing his orgasm as he thrusts even faster into you now, panting into your mouth above you.

“Yes,” you reply with a whimper. “Want you to fill me up so bad.”

“Yeah?” He cuts you off, pressing your abdomen harder with his hand. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Want you to feel it.”

Your senses hone in on the feeling of your palm over his bulge, pulsating rhythmically as he nears his orgasm.

“I’m cumming, fuck, I’m gonna finish,” Minho says, shutting his eyes in pleasure as he moves at his fastest pace now, his grip around your throat holding you steady as you lose yourself underneath him. He’s never finished inside someone before, but he has no intention of pulling out now, the conversation of impregnating you sending him over the edge as he reaches the cusp of his release.

You contract around his breathlessly now, eager to take his load, never having taken someone’s either, but desperate for Minho to be your first.

And with a few more harsh thrusts, Minho’s cock twitches once inside of you, finally letting out a generous load of his cum inside of you, the gush of his release filling you up so fully, the warm sensation of his milky white release thrusting deep inside of your pussy as he fucks the rest into you.

He feels his head spin, his eyes shutting instinctively at the sensation as he lets go fully inside of you, no urgency to pull out or stave off his release like he usually has to. And it takes a while before he’s begun to soften again, the knowledge of giving you his cum almost rousing him again and lengthening the period of his release inside of you. Minho already knows he’s going to be addicted to finishing inside of you from here on out- and he doesn’t want it any other way.

The warm feeling is all it takes for you to finish in mere seconds, contracting around him as he fucks you through his orgasm, your release mixing with his and dribbling down the side of your thighs as he begins to slow down. Minho doesn’t pull out immediately, instead caressing your face to gauge your reaction as he softens inside of you.

“Was it okay?” Minho queries, tucking sweaty strands of hair behind your ears and loosening his grasp on your throat.

“It was more than okay,” you say breathlessly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he smiles down at you. “I feel so full of you.”

Minho kisses you sweetly, rubbing his thumb along your hand soothingly as he pulls out of you, a string of his cum connecting to you still and dribbling onto the sheets as he rolls over to lay on his side.

For a moment, the two of you say nothing, your chests rising and falling as you catch your breath and ponder the day’s events. It’s not what you expected was going to happen when you saw yourself up to his room again, but it is what you’d hoped would happen eventually. And the atmosphere feels much lighter around you now, completely void of the lingering sexual and emotional tension that’s plagued you for so long.

“Minho?” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Philosophically speaking, how many versions of us do you think are lying next to each other like this, right now?”

Minho thinks over your words for a moment, and then he chuckles lightly.

“Well if the universe was conditioned right, I’d hope for an infinite amount. But considering how long it took us to get here in this version, I’d say just one.”

And he sits up, leaning in for another kiss as two fingers tuck his arousal further into you, holding his release inside of your still-sensitive body.

“Have some bacon, honey,” Mrs. Lee says to you as she scrambles to get her things together for the day. “I made a lot, so help yourself.”

“Thanks,” you reply, strapping Joon into his high chair and smoothing down your skirt.

Ever since that evening, you and Minho have been inseparable. The two of you wait until Mrs. Lee is gone for the morning, desperately grabbing at each other and giggling between kisses until Minho has to leave for his classes. And when he returns, it’s much of the same, the two of you helping put Joon down for his afternoon nap before escaping up to his bedroom and making love until Joon wakes again.

Minho is completely and utterly obsessed with you, the same way you are with him, but you both know this game of house you play can’t go on forever. Mostly because you feel the guilt eating away at you day by day, every waking minute you’re tending to your duties as a babysitter or conversing with Mrs. Lee. It’s hard to be in the same room as Minho when she’s around, the urge to just confess even more present when she attempts to facilitate conversation between the two of you and you’re forced to act like he’s still a mystery.

But you have him more figured out than you ever have before, memorizing the freckles on his body like the back of your hand, reciting his favorite quotes like prayers and replaying the melodic giggles that escape his lips. You don’t want to be apart from him, but the point still stands- it’s scary to like someone this much. He consumes you more than he ever has before, filling every waking second of your life with remnants of him. You love when he reads romantic philosophical theories to you, or when he cooks you and Joon dinner after a long day. But you feel guilty when you’re alone with Joon again, hoping he can’t somehow tell that you’re only thinking of his brother when you’re preparing his bottles or feeding him. You hope Mrs. Lee doesn’t notice when your hair is a little too tousled to have just been from a nap, or the time you had to cross your legs to keep Minho’s release inside of you when the two of you had finished just in time for her to make it home. It’s selfish, and it’s unfair. And with no sign of this fling stopping anytime soon, you don’t see any other option to be fit.

“I’m leaving,” Mrs. Lee finally says, grabbing her car keys off the kitchen table and pulling her heels on. “Make sure to get Joon his medicine!”

The two of you watch as she shuts the front door behind her, and then you wait until her car starts, holding your breath as she pulls out of the driveway and begins down the street in what feels like an agonizing amount of time.

The minute she’s gone, Minho turns to you again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you lean back against the counter.

“Morning,” he says with a shy smile. He wastes no time leaning in for a romantic kiss, which you reciprocate, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling into him.

When he pulls away, the two of you say nothing, holding each other in a comfortable embrace as he rubs little circles into the small of your back.

“I guess it’s just mom and dad home right now,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck. “I’ll ditch class right now if you want me to fill you up again.”

And his offer is tempting as he presses his erection into you, working more kisses down the nape of your neck and trailing his hands up your skirt.

“No,” you finally say, pushing him away and collecting your thoughts. “You need to get to class. I have a lot of stuff to do. I’m working, in case you forgot.”

“Okay, okay,” Minho says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I digress.”

He pulls back to caress your face with a visible smirk as your eyes graze his thighs, so beautifully sculpted under the fabric of his jeans. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so sinfully tempted by somebody before, like Eve to the apple, like a moth to a flame- he’s intoxicating, but you know you shouldn’t be indulging this while you’re here to fulfill your role as a babysitter.

“You should go,” you say to him, swallowing nervously as his hands trace the outline of your lips.

“Yeah,” Minho replies, a hint of disappointment present in his voice.

And without another word, he gathers his car keys off the table, sending you off with a little wave as he disappears for the day.

You may have Minho mostly figured out now- his fascination with romance and philosophy, his soft interior under the stoic exterior he presents everyone else with, his astounding levels of emotional intelligence and unwavering kindness for the people he loves. But now that things have become a little more complicated between the two of you, you fear all of this will come to an end as fortuitously as it all began.

The reality is, this isn’t one of Minho’s romance novels- you’re both real people, with emotions and convictions and reservations. And though you want this fleeting thing to last forever, you’re well aware that things don’t work that way, especially when you’re just a babysitter at the end of it all. Sure, Minho sees you as much more than that- but you were hired to be here in the Lee household, paid to fulfill your role here, and once this comes to an end, your relationship with Minho likely will, too.

… and thus, the decision to quit your job isn’t one you take lightly. It succeeds hours of thinking, weighing your options and planning out exactly what you’re going to tell Mrs. Lee when she asks why you’re leaving so suddenly. You want to do another internship, you decide on telling her, hoping she doesn’t poke enough holes to get the truth out of you- “I think far too much about your eldest son and it’s eating me alive.”

All day long, you try your best to shut Minho out of your thoughts, focusing on your online courses and caring for Joon like you used to. But it feels futile, this task of pretending things are the way they used to be. They’re not- you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back and hooking up with her eldest son. When all’s said and done, you’ll be right back in your own home, with your parents desperate to send you elsewhere once again, and your own life to tend to. This double life you romanticize isn’t real, nor is it attainable anymore.

Your phone call with Mrs. Lee to announce your decision doesn’t set anything in stone yet, her words urging you to speak with her later this week when she has some free time. But you know once you do speak with her, you’ll only have a few evenings left with Minho until this is all over. And you don’t have the heart to tell him just yet, but if things go anything the way they did when you first brought it up to him, you know he’s going to be heartbroken.

When Minho arrives home that evening, he can already sense something is wrong. You’re sat in the garden, where you typically don’t go, your legs crossed neatly over one of the sunlounger chairs as you let your thoughts consume you. Mrs. Lee’s koi fish fountain stands nobly in front of you, a robust stream of water trickling from its lips and into the concrete bowl below. You’re mesmerized by it as you always are, the steady sound of water coupled with the birds chirping in the sunny greenery around you as peaceful as ever.

“Hey,” Minho says, sliding open the screen door and stepping outside to meet you.

“Hi,” you reply, holding a hand up over you to shield your eyes from the sun. You’d forgotten how divine he looked today, his white button up now folded up at the sleeves and exposing his veiny forearms to you.

“How was your day?” Minho asks, pressing a small kiss to your temple as he occupies the spot beside you and stares at the fountain.

“Okay,” you respond, though you’re lying through your teeth. “Joon went down about an hour ago.”

Minho nods, and then he furrows his brows together as he speaks again.

“Why are you out here?”

You shrug in response, keeping short with your words as he pushes you for answers. And you want to tell him it’s because you made the most painful decision to call Mrs. Lee and forfeit all of this, but you know it’ll only hurt more, so you divert from the truth.

“It was stuffy inside,” you voice back, shooting him a small smile.

Minho seems to relax beside you, his shoulders sagging a little as he takes notice of your calm demeanor. He doesn’t have reason to believe anything’s wrong, judging by the way you converse so casually.

“You want me to cook you something?” Minho asks, placing his palm up next to you, and you let your hand intertwine with his.

“Will you read to me?” You ask, eager to indulge in your favorite activity alongside him.

“I can read to you,” Minho echoes back, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of your hand. “Which book?”

You’re both in the cozy atmosphere of the library later that evening, Minho sat on his favorite velvet armchair as you occupy a spot in his lap with his arms wrapped around you. The book is positioned in front of him so you can both see, his fingers holding open the thin pages as the poetry leaves his lips, pausing in between lines to press kisses to the crook of your neck when he’s reminded of you in his favorite characters.

And you hold back tears in the moment, wanting so badly to tell Minho that you’ll be letting go of all of this, running back to the monotony of your old life, one where Minho doesn’t exist and you don’t have to balance the complicated feelings of liking someone to this degree. But you bite back your words, careful not to ruin the intimate moment you share while he loves you in an ignorant state of bliss.

“The pleasures of love are always in proportion to the fear,” Minho begins a new chapter, grazing your neck with his lips.

He trails a bit lower to graze your shoulder now, pressing a small trail of kisses as he pauses his reading. You giggle softly in response, feeling his fingers find the strap of your tank top to pull it down your shoulder so he can pepper kisses there, too.

“Minho,” you say softly, writhing in his embrace as he tickles every inch of your skin with his kisses, now shutting the book and setting it on the arm of the chair.

“Can’t help it,” Minho responds, shutting his eyes as he snakes his hands up the back of your tank top. “You look so beautiful right now.”

As you adjust in his lap, you can feel he’s now rock-hard in his jeans below you, his thighs flexing underneath you as he wraps two hands around your waist and runs them up and down your sides. You take the hint, turning around in his lap to face him, and let your arms wrap around his neck to steady yourself.

“What are you thinking about?” Minho asks, bringing his lips to yours as he feels his hardened cock graze against the fabric of his jeans, eager to pleasure you.

You want to express your fears, your doubts, to tell him the truth about what you spoke about on the phone with Mrs. Lee earlier today. But you can’t, not when he looks so tantalizing in front of you like this, his bulge perfectly outlined in his tight jeans and his veiny arms flexing below the fabric of his collared button-up. You’ve been roused for him since he left in the morning, his offer swirling your mind coupled with his appearance, like something out of a wet dream.

“You,” you voice back, whimpering pathetically into another kiss and rocking your hips gently over him so that he’s practically whimpering for you, too.

Neither of you have to say much, knowing already where the evening is headed, as you unzip his pants and palm his erection through the fabric of his boxers. Minho watches as you slide off his lap, dropping to your knees in front of him and tugging the fabric of his jeans. He complies with your urges, pulling them down to his knees and freeing his erection from his boxers, exhaling deeply as the cool breeze of the room grazes his leaking tip.

Without a second to waste, you take him in your mouth, letting your saliva coat his shaft as you kiss his tip tenderly and then guide him down your throat, the base of his cock just barely meeting your lips as you struggle to take him fully. Minho groans at the contact, bucking his hips off the chair to guide himself further into you, feeling his cock twitch when you gag a little at the contact. You stay like that for a good while, bobbing your head in rhythmic motions up and down his hardened length, your saliva allowing you to graze his shaft with ease.

Minho’s thighs contract desperately below him, trying his best to stave off the orgasm he’s been longing for since the moment he saw you this morning. His hands find your hair, pulling your locks into a makeshift ponytail and gasping as you take him a bit deeper now, pulling back again to pepper the tip of his wettened cock in drooly kisses.

“Fuck,” Minho breathes out, clutching the arm of the chair so desperately. “Baby, stop, I don’t want to finish yet,”

And you release him with a gentle pop, knowing exactly what it is he wants so badly. You never deny it, sitting back up again to position yourself over his cock you intertwine his hands with yours. He uses one hand to tug your panties to the side, and then in one swift motion, you guide his cock inside of you, sliding down the slick of his length and bottoming out with ease. You take him so well now, always able to adjust to his girth instantly as your cunt is always dripping in anticipation when he’s near.

Minho’s hand moves to push your tank top up, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly as you begin to bounce on him with gentle movements. The room fills with sounds of panting, sucking and desperate moans as his cock fills you fully with every thrust, brushing against your cervix as he moves to your other nipple and kneads your breast desperately.

“What was that quote again?” You ask in labored breaths as he comes back up to kiss your lips.

“The pleasures of love,” he begins, breathlessly working his lips against yours as you clench around his length. “Are always in proportion to the fear.”

Minho feels his cock twitch inside of you, always nearing his finish much faster when you make him recite all his favorite quotes and book excerpts to you.

Except this one speaks much louder to you, directly aligning with your present-day emotions, circling your mind relentlessly as he fills you. Maybe this is what his book speaks of- the pleasures of love, being filled so fully and lovingly by Minho, two pieces of one whole like you’re both made for this, to make love into the late hours of the night while he recites poetry to you.

And all of this in proportion to the fear- this constant fear that he’s just a fleeting entity, that you’re both naive to play house like this and pretend it’s anything more. The fear present while you’re sneaking behind Mrs. Lee’s back, letting him fuck you like he’s married to you and indulge you in all of his deepest secrets, as though you’re the only one allowed to know him this intimately.

The love and fear and indeed in proportion to one another- you love him as much as you’re afraid of loving him.

“I love you,” you say suddenly, bringing him in for another kiss before he can respond. But the way his kisses work against yours, hungry and passionate, there’s not a hint of reluctance in his response when he pulls away to speak again.

“I love you,” Minho breathes back, working his kisses against yours as his cock pulsates inside of you, desperate for release. “And I hope every version of the universe is conditioned for us to be right here.”

You smile into him, slowing your movements as you feel him contract inside of you, and then his thighs flex as he finally finishes inside of you, shooting hot white ropes of his cum into your still-clenching cunt, his release already beginning to dribble back down his length as he feels you slow down over him.

You bring a hand between the two of you, gathering his cum on the pads of your fingers to circle your clit in gentle movements, stimulating yourself to your release, too, as you contract desperately around him and breathe labored kisses back into his mouth. Your juices mix with his as you catch your breath, keeping him inside of you as your chest rises and falls with gentle movements. But the two of you say nothing, pressing your lips together to indulge in more passionate kisses for the few minutes you have left before Mrs. Lee makes it home for the evening.

The garden is particularly beautiful the next afternoon, teeming with the sounds of birds chirping and trees swaying in the gentle autumn breeze. Mrs. Lee let you know she’d be home a little earlier to have a chat about your decision to leave, and when Joon is put down for his afternoon nap, you receive the call that she’s in the garden waiting for you. You enter hesitantly, worried Minho might catch you and question what you’re doing out here. But he’s not home from school yet, you remind yourself, glancing around the tall grass and neat rows of potted plants for Mrs. Lee.

“Y/n!” A voice calls from one of the patio chairs. “Come, sit!”

Mrs. Lee sits with her back facing you, a large white sun hat atop her neatly styled hair and complementing her matching white jumpsuit. Her gaze remains locked on the koi fountain you’re always transfixed by, too.

“Hi Mrs. Lee,” you say, giving her a small bow as you take the seat next to her. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

She nods with a smile. “So good to see you when we have a little more time. I’m sorry I’m always such a mess in the mornings.”

You shake your head quickly, brushing off her words. “Not at all! It’s always nice to greet the family before I start my day.”

She just smiles in response, turning to nod at you, and then she turns back to the fountain.

“I was a little surprised when you called the other day. I hope things are going okay.”

“They are,” you interrupt quickly. “They absolutely are. Joon is so pleasant, and the job is great. I really love it here.”

“I hope everything at home is okay,” she moves on to say, and you quickly reassure her.

“Yes, everything is fine! Everyone is doing great.”

“I understand,” Mrs. Lee says, eyeing the ground before turning to face you now. “You’ve done so much for us, I’d be lying if I said I’m not going to miss having you around here in the mornings.”

You shoot her a sympathetic look, feeling a pit form in your stomach, too. You feel the same, probably tenfold, at the idea of leaving behind the household you’ve called home for so many days.

“I’m going to miss it here, too.”

“And I know Joon is going to be heartbroken,” Mrs. Lee says with a chuckle.

You chuckle too, giving her an understanding nod.

She pauses briefly, furrowing her brows together, before continuing her speech.

“You’re such a bright young woman, and I know you’re destined to do amazing things. If there’s a way I can help in this transition, please don’t hesitate to let me know, okay?”

You nod at her words, and watch as she smooths down her top before standing up. She seems to wait for a moment, as if hoping for you to say something, and when you don’t, she begins to make her way back inside.

“Well, I’ll let you go for the evening. Thank you again, for everything. And you have my phone number if-”

“Mrs. Lee?” You call out suddenly, catching her before she can get much further. She turns around at the worry present in your voice, her face shifting into that of concern.

Without having to voice anything else, Mrs. Lee sits down again, waiting for you to continue. But you can’t, your heart beating wildly in your chest at the thought of even bringing up the topic of Minho. I’m in love with your son, you want to say to her. I’m so in love with Minho and I hope you understand I don’t have a choice but to leave this all behind me.

“You know,” Mrs. Lee interrupts your thoughts, breaking the silence that fills the air. “This koi fountain was my first gift from Mr. Lee.”

You nod at her, remembering when she introduced it to you on your first day here.

“We weren’t married yet. It was his first restoration project, and my dad hated him. So he had a lot of trouble getting it over to me.”

You chuckle lightly, amused at her story which seems to calm you down a little.

“Luckily his parents adored me,” she continues. “And they offered to house it in their backyard until we married. For the 15 years we dated, my koi fish lived in their garden. And when we did marry, they rented a big truck to help haul it over. It was such a project! But it’s my favorite part of the garden.”

You shoot her a saccharine smile, well endeared at the way she speaks of Mr. Lee. You can tell she’s in love with him, even this many years later.

“Sometimes I wondered why they would do something so nice for me. But as I grew closer to them, I learned not to question what was meant for me. They loved me, as did Mr. Lee. And I wasn’t going to run from any of that, no matter what I felt I deserved.”

Your head snaps in her direction at her last words, realizing how they apply to you. But she doesn’t know about Minho- at least not to your knowledge, or Minho’s. She gives you a sheepish smile as you furrow your brows, and then she takes your hand in hers, giving it a little squeeze.

“I hope you won't run from what you deserve, either.”

You nod a little bit at her words, finally understanding the weight of them, and then you look back at her with a confused expression.

“Mrs. Lee, are you talking about…”

“Minho?” She finally says, with a warm smile. She takes your other hand in hers, too, tilting her face to yours so that she’s making proper eye contact as she speaks.

“I had wondered why he was so happy these days. Minho’s always been a bit of an outcast. But I haven’t seen this spark in him since he started his obsession with all those romance novels and philosophy studies of his.”

You chuckle lightly, a weight off your shoulders as she finally speaks of what circles your mind so heavily.

“But how did you…”

“I knew it when I saw it,” she says. “I knew it, because he had the same look in his eyes as when I met his father.”

You feel your heart swell in your chest, your shoulders relaxing as she continues to speak.

“He speaks of you like poetry,” she tells you. “And for that alone, I’m thankful for you. Now what you choose to do is your decision- but I hope you know you will always have a home here with us. Not just as a babysitter, but as family.”

When Mrs. Lee finishes her speech, she gives your hands a little squeeze, smiling at you and back at the koi fish fountain. It feels much more sentimental to you even now, the beautiful waterfall that cascades serving as a reminder of its permanent restoration rooted in the infatuation Mr. Lee had for Mrs. Lee. And watching it stand so beautifully like it did all those years ago, you’re reminded that love can be a lasting thing, no matter the circumstances. The universe can condition itself to make things last, affirming the philosophical notions Minho’s always told you. And that perhaps you do deserve this, a sense of belonging here in the Lee household, right here alongside Mrs. Lee and Minho, and even baby Joon.

As you watch the fountain together, the sound of the sliding door makes itself known behind you, and you turn around to find Minho entering the garden, baby Joon sitting comfortably in his arms as he makes his way over.

“Hi,” Minho says, coming around to give Mrs. Lee a kiss on her cheek. “What’s going on here?”

He looks visibly worried, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Mrs. Lee, as if to silently ask you what she’s told you.

But Mrs. Lee just smiles at him, as she gets up from where she’s sitting and smooths down her jumpsuit.

“We were just having a girl chat. I’ll leave you two alone.”

And she disappears behind the screen door again, shooting you a little wink as she does, her anecdote circling your mind, still.

“What happened?” Minho asks, settling down next to you and balancing baby Joon on his knee. Joon fists at the fabric of his shirt, babbling incoherently as you smile down at him.

“Nothing,” you say, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. You refrain from saying anything about leaving, not wanting to interrupt the tender moment you share with Minho and Joon in the sunlight of the garden.

“You have a really cool mom,” you settle on saying, smiling at Minho as he chuckles softly in response.

The afternoon sun beams through the glass windows of the library as you lie comfortably in Minho’s lap, his book positioned in front of you as he presses a small kiss to the back of your hand before turning the page.

Outside, the birds chirp songs of early spring, the steady stream of Mrs. Lee’s koi fountain audible as you peer down at the garden.

Mr. and Mrs. Lee sit in the tall grass, fiddling with a box of tools as Mr. Lee repairs a new project for Mrs. Lee. This one’s a much larger fountain, one he’d told you would take several months, perhaps even years. But Mrs. Lee sits beside him, relishing in stories of his restoration process and laughing with him as he works. You can’t help but smile at the sight, her stories about him playing in your mind whenever you catch a glimpse of them together.

“Do you think they could be us in another universe?” You ask Minho, turning to face him as he peers out the window, too.

“I hope so,” he says with a smile.

You settle closer to him in his lap, pressing a small kiss to his hand as he continues reading.

“And think not that you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.”

At his words, you hear baby Joon cry out, having woken from his afternoon nap.

“I’ll get him,” Minho says, shutting the book and setting it aside to go tend to the baby.

And as you peer back out the window, the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s laughter filling your ears, baby Joon’s voice calling to you, Minho’s philosophy book perched on the chair beside you and the sun beams shining their light through the windows, you know that this is belonging, this is love.

#stray kids #skz smut #Lee Minho #Lee know #stray kids hard hours #Lee know smut #lee know scenarios #skz x reader #skz hard hours #stray kids x you #skz #fanfic #request #requests open #Spotify

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myrcenegirl · 1 year

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I saw 222 twice today already does that mean I saw 222222 or 444 or 222….. maybe the universe just has A LOT in store for me… I mean I am about to eat a Caesar salad it doesn’t get much bigger than that tbh :p

#I think the soonest I can take a day off is Thursday uhgkmnhjk #i’ve been made homeless after my new £365k home flooded months after moving in… it’s like a waterfall through my ceiling #i’m a pest control expert – here are the worst things i’ve been called out to deal with on christmas day #i’ve had a fairytale life and won oscar…but there’s a role i’m gutted to have missed out on #wtf are these tags that come up when I type I’ve???#hello…?

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secretqueerspy · 1 year

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got a self-care app and i do not tolerate interruptions during waterfall time ✌

#life stuff #waterfall time is not time to be getting loud text notifications #i am listening to the waterfall rn #and doing it for my little birb called blaine

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theblueflower05 · 6 months

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Mi Ti’ong(In Bloom)

A/N: Usually I try to keep my readers pretty ambiguous so that everyone can envision themselves, but this ones gonna be a little more distinct. If that isnt your jam, please dont read! No use of Y/N. Reader nicknamed Flora. Based on the character from Winx Club! And this art!

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: Size difference kink.Mature Language. Smut. Overstimulation. Oral sex(female receiving) Neteyams a munch, it’s canon now.

Summary: Neteyam can have anyone and yet he only wants you. A small human who can usually be found among the flowers. Neteyam x Human! Reader

Sugar, honey, iced tea. Bumble bee on the scene.

Yeah I’d give up my bakery to have a piece of your pie, ugh!

-See You Again, Tyler the Creator.

The forest is alive, the beating heart of Eywa felt in each and every leaf among the trees.

Every glowing piece of flora and fauna, every creature whose calls echo through the vastness.

This time of year is special and it's as though it is known. Deeply and primitively by all. The rains had come and gone, nearly a month of bruised skies that had bogged down the village and its daily life.

But as they always do the skies cleared, and the sun made its reappearance. Glittering and glimmering- triple rainbows breaking out in kaleidoscope like figurations. Beaming down with all of it’s warmth and vitality.

The earth is well fed and fertile, the soil rich and blooming with new life.

It’s that new life that brings the talioang(water buffalo like beasts) back. The creatures return in great migrations to the lush pastures of sweet new grasses to have their babies. The fish swim upstream, battling the roaring rivers, to spawn. The fruit hangs heavy and ripe in the trees. All around there is nothing but full bellies and joy.

This period of abundance is the Great Mother’s gift to her children.

It had always been Neteyam’s favorite time of the year.

Everything lush and bursting with life, the excitement a low constant hum amongst the tribe. The Great Hunt is coming and his father had given him the okay to take lead.

In his nineteen years, he had never been appointed with so much responsibility.

Jake tells him it will all be fine, nothing but easy smiles. This will be good. A fantastic way to show the clan that he’s ready to take on the title of Olo’eyktan once his father steps down. Although he manages to keep is calm and cool demeanor in public, he’s so fucking nervous he can barley function.

It’s why he’s here, trudging through the branches.

The village is buzzing with excitement. Everyone wants a moment of his time, their voices overlap as they wish him good luck.

Question his competence as head of the hunt.

Subliminally hint that hunters twice his age have never gotten the chance to do what has been so freely handed to him.

Remind him that their daughters are pretty. Unmated. Makes the best steamed Teylu. Are fertile and willing to give him strong children-

Fuck.

The moment he could, he’d slipped away. Disappeared into the foliage and had booked it deep into the trees, desperate for a moment alone. For a moment of silence and the peace of being away from prying eyes.

He doesn't even really know where he’s going.

Only that he just needs to be away. If only for an hour. He needs to recharge his ever draining social battery, to get his head on straight before tomorrow's hunt.

Neteyam has always performed his best under pressure.

Things that made others balk and cower ignited something in him. A need to fight. To prove himself- it’s not the prospect of high adrenaline and stampeeding hooves that makes him squirm. It’s all of the attention its garnering.

He know’s fully well that being the next Olo’eyktan means that attention comes with the territory. But that doesnt mean the thought of everyones focus on him doesnt make his indigo skin crawl.

He’s leaping aimlessly between vines when he remembers his sisters earlier proposition.

“Come with me and Flora to the watering hole today! The waterfalls are so pretty during this season- We’re going to go swimming!”

It’d been tempting this morning, and now it is even more so. He could use a dip in the cool waters and Kiri was always an ear to vent to when he got overwhelmed. He’d clear head and then leave-

He wouldn't get stuck staring at you.

Again,

No.

He can't pinpoint exactly when this happened.

It was like one night you were just another human at the Outpost. Another familiar alien face he’d grown up around. Just like Spider you’d stuck close with the Sully children. Your cheeks always flushed beneath your exo-mask and your fingernails always dirty and caked with mud from the hours and hours you’d spend tending to any and all plants that came in your line of vision. You were always so soft. Too soft for his liking sometimes. You’d cry at just about anything whether it be one of those old Tawtute movies the scientists played at the lab or the sight of an injured shimmyfly.

And then suddenly gone was that snotty, teary little girl he’d always known. And in her place was…you. A woman grown. Beautiful and bold- and there was strength in your softness now. You’d proved him wrong so many times- made it clear that you weren't another responsibility he’d have to shoulder-

“I can take care of myself, Neteyam” you’d insisted, never letting him carry your heavy baskets or tend to your scraped knees.

It’s maddening, the way that you shrug off any and all of his advances drives him fucking insane.

Neteyam approaches the secluded bank of the watering hole that his family loves best slowly, keeping in the treeline. Just out of sight. Just like he’d expected he finds you and Kiri on the familiar sands. Kiri is lounging in the sun, eyes closed and humming a pleasant tune to herself-oblivious to anything around her. He’d have to chastise her about her complete lack of situational awareness later.

You’re knee deep in the lake- tending to the water lilies that grow close to shore. Your back is to him but he bets your nose is all scrunched up, just like it always is when you’re around anything green and growing. His eyes drink you in greedily. All of your sun kissed skin is on display in the tiny faded pink panties you don for swimming.

He’d never found humans particularly pretty before you. The intense differences in their bodies had never appealed to him-

But Eywa, are you something to look at.

Time had been kind to you, and as you’d grown your body had morphed into something goddess like. You’re a real looker, his father had claimed. Would’ve been a total knockout back on Earth.

You’re all plush curves. Your breasts are pert and sit like rip hanging fruit on your chest, your hips wide and thighs jiggly and thick. And your waist…he’s sure if he put his much larger hands around them, his fingers could touch. He could cage you in his hold.

That thought has him biting his tongue, hard enough to taste metallic. You turn a bit, your laughter chiming over the glittering water like soft wind at some dry joke Kiri made.

Your hair color is light, lighter than any Na’vi’s and falls down around your shoulders in thick waves. He can only make out the side of your face but your full lips are pulled into a coy smile and your light jade eyes sparkle and all hell. Neteyam is so gone on you.

You’re like nothing he’s seen and definitely nothing he’s had.

And since his Iknimaya he’s had his first pick of the women of the clan.

He’s tasted passionate huntresses and flexible dancers alike and none of them satiate his thirst. None of them are able to replicate what he can only imagine you might taste like. It’s almost pathetic how many women he’s had and how many times he’s almost called out your name as he emptied his seed.

Neteyam’s more discreet about his romps than his brother, that’s for sure- but still. It’s a known fact that he’s an unmated male at his prime and that comes with a certain appetite. He can have anyone he wants, any Omatikayan woman would be glad to spend a night with him.

Yet somehow he’s lurking, hiding in the bush. Watching you longingly. Simpering like a pre-teen and pining over the way that the sunlight plays in the strands of your hair.

He shakes himself from his embarrassing reverie.

No one would be able to tell that just moments before he’d been debating on stroking his cock to just the sight of you, lurking in the trees like a creep. No. As he approaches its with his head held high and a sharp smile on his handsome smile.

“Brother!” Kiri grins, sitting up once she clocks him.

“What are you girls up to?” Neteyam greets. Cool as a cucumber.

“Nothing much, just been here since dawn. The waters so high this year!” Kiri picks up a fruit from beside her, peeling at its tender meat “everyone’s been out here today-on the other side, but no one knows how to get to this spot so we’ve had the beach all to ourselves”

You’re coming in from the lapping shore, beaming at him “Look at all the paysul(waterlily) that’ve bloom! I’ve never seen this many- isn't it amazing?”

“They are very beautiful. The rains were hard this year. I’m surprised the flooding wasn't worse” Neteyam tries not to focus on how tiny your chest covering- the bra as you call it- is. He turns his attention to his sister instead.

“Where’s Tuk, I cant believe she’d miss a chance to swim with you guys”

“She’s with mom, stuck on weaving duty since she tore grandma’s favorite tapestry” Kiri snorts because her baby sister had thrown a complete fit when she had been told she couldn't come “What about you? I thought you we’re too busy to hang out with the likes of us”

“I was able to make a little time for my favorite girls” Neteyam jests, amused by your eye roll and Kiri’s scoff “Plus, Lo’ak told me you need some humbling. Seems you forgot who’s the best diver in the family”

“Oh, you’re on, Teylupil(penis face/dick head)”

After stripping down to only his cloth, his cumberband and com left on shore, he slips into the cool refreshing water with a pleased “Ah”. Enjoying the gentle current against his skin-only to be tacked under the surface by Kiri and all of her bony lanky limbs moments later.

The sun soaked afternoon is filled with laughter and splashing. It’s exactly what he needs.

The three of you play in the river like children. Neteyam and Kiri go at it like the always do- careful to be gentle with your smaller form as you join in. It’s easy to forget the looming pressure of the hunt while he’s jumping from the rushing waterfalls and racing his sister, discreetly preening when he wins and you cheer him on with little claps.

Eventually you all tire.

Kiri floats on the water and goes to that place in her head that she so often does. Completely at peace to be surrounded by nature. She claims it’s when she can best hear Eywa.

Neteyam keeps a bit of an eye on her to make sure she doesn't randomly fall asleep again. Hoping she’d have the sense to get back to the beach before that happened.

Water floods his face and goes right up his nose.

His head snaps to you, spluttering and wiping at his eyes, “What the hell?”

You just giggle innocently before disappearing beneath the surface.

Neteyam’s tail flicks with interest.

He decides to let you get your little head start. His heart speeds up with the promise of a hunt before he starts his chase.He might be bigger then you but you're quick and slippery. Your mask giving you the advantage of not having to come up for air like he does.

When he grabs your ankle, so sure he’s got you, you all but kick him in the face to get away.

You little shit.

Fine.

If you want to play dirty, then he’s game.

He allows you to think you have a chance. That you may be winning the little game. You’re heading for the waterfall, planning to hide behind it.

He’s bigger and more trained than you could ever hope to be.

It only takes one well planned move and you’re done.

He yanks a hold of you, secure. He holds you then, your back against his chest and his strong muscle corded arms wrapped around you from behind before propelling the both of you through the pounding waterfall and into the small, closed off cave behind it.

“Neteyam!” You whine, squirming in his hold like a fish and he just laughs because honestly. He can barely feel it. You’re trying to escape with all his might and he’s holding you the way he might hold a child throwing a tantrum.

He leans in close, burying his face in your wet hair, close to your ear “I win, Sylaung(flower)”

He feels you shiver in his arms and it just makes him hold you tighter. He could keep you like this forever, if you’d only let him. Instead he can feel without you even saying so how hesitant you feel about this

“I think I deserve a prize” he pushes on even further and you give him a confused, side ways look. He so graciously allows you to turn in his hold until your chests meet, face to face.

“Like what?” you wonder and you’re too cute. You’re looking up at him, struggling to treading water with your smaller legs- Neteyam lifts you higher, until you’re bracing your hands on his broad shoulders and he’s holding you above the current. Supporting you totally.

“Well what can you give?” His inquiry is almost condescending and you shrug.

“I’m fresh out of gold stars” you tease and he barks out a laugh. Do you think he can't tell? That he can't see the way your cheeks flush and your pulse hammers beneath the delicate skin of your throat?

“What about a kiss” he offers offhandedly and your face scrunches up in a glare automatically.

“You don't want to?...”

“Why do you make fun of me like this, Neteyam” It’s not often he hears your voice this hard, soured by embarrassment and self doubt.

“I’m not making fun of you” he insists with a sigh “I don't know why you always say that. When have I ever given you the impression that I’d do that?”

You won't meet his gaze. Your green eyes flick, anywhere but on him. Zeroing somewhere behind his back. All too interested on the rocky cave wall.

“If it wasn't for this damned mask” Neteyam husks, low and sincere “I’d kiss you right now”

Even still, you don't seem convinced. Won't look at him until he takes your face in his hand, his fingers gentle but insistent. They grip the mask at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Why don't you believe me?”

“I’m nothing like the Omatikaya women you’ve been with” you say plainly like it's so obvious. Like it's a problem.

“I know”

“You didn't even like me growing up. You thought I was annoying”

“That isn't true-”

“It is” you insist haughtily “you’d make fun of me for talking to my plants”

He doesn't mean to laugh, really he doesn't. It’s not the time for it and it just pisses you off even more. He doesn't let you out of his arms even when you swat at him. “Listen, I’m sorry. I think it’s very sweet the way you talk to your plants. I want you to talk to me just like that, please”

That earns him a little giggle and he feels very pleased with himself.

You play with his hair often, most times it's mindless. A way to distract yourself. Your small deft fingers twirl along his adorned braids. He craves the scritch of your manicured nails on his scalp.

“How do you want me to kiss you? If I have my mask on” The interest in your hair is only just veiled. Your attempt at being nonchalant fails.

“Hmm” Neteyam feigns thinking, face screwed up “I think I could come up with a few ideas”

A few thousand more like it. You were the star of all of his fantasies. You, twisted and contorted into positions that would surely make you blush. You, with your mouth hanging slack in pleasure. Screaming his name-

But you hadnt agreed to that. You only, just barely, agreed to let him kiss you.

When he leans in its slow. Slow enough to give you time to push him away.

The waterfall roars in the background, white noise, but even it can't drown out the thunderous beating of your frantic heart.

Then his lips are pressed against your throat, gulping in the sweet scent of you. He cant kiss your mouth, but he can kiss the sweet, smooth column of your neck. Your clavicle. Your quivering shoulders. The heavy flesh of your breast. His kisses are open mouthed, his rough textured tongue dragging over your skin, leaving saliva trails in their wake-

You gasp sharpley when drags the skimpy fabric of your bra down so he can get at your pebbled nipple. He’s just about to suckle, when the moment is broken.

“Guys! Where’d you go?!”

It’s Kiri. Obviously awake from her nap like meditation time.

Your eyes go comically wide and Neteyam reluctantly releases you. Not wanting to get caught with an armful of pretty, half naked human. He’s thankful for the cold water and the way that he can hide the hardness tenting his tweng.

He catches you by the wrist before you can dip beneath the falls-

“We’re not done here, Sylaung” the promise leaves his lips fevor laced and full of heat.

You can only gulp and nod dazed, “I still owe you a kiss” your sweet voice reminds, before you’re ducking back under the water.

Leaving him dazed and buzzing for a moment before he gets it together and follows.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Days later he still hasn't gotten his prize.

Although he’s celebrated by his clan, praised for his successful hunt, he feels like something is missing.

The Harvest Season and its celebrations are well underway. Every night there's dancing and singing around the large bonfires we’re fragrant spiced tailong meat roasts. Neteyam is highly decorated; feathers adorn his freshly braided hair and he's donned his most ornate cumberband. He’s hauntingly handsome

Spider and Lo’ak are sat near the main fire, laughing heartily and sharing a leather gourd full of liquor between themselves.

Spider’s obviously drunk and eyeing Kiri hungerly as she dances with Tuk- he’d never do that sober. Not with Neytiri so near. Lo’ak is lounged out, an attractive female in his lap. She giggles madly at whatever filth his little brother whispers in her twitching ear.

Jealousy bubbles acidicly in Neteyam’s belly and again, he wonders where you are. Why you arent here, in his lap. Letting him woo you.

He figures he’ll have to go to you then, if you won't come to him.

First thing to do is find you.

“Hey, Spider!” the human man is the best place to start. Spider’s eyes are glassy under his mask and still. His friend is excited to see him, greets him with a hand shake and a small hug.

“Neteyam, man! Where have you been all night?”

“Around, you know how it is” Neteyam shrugs, sitting sown on the log, accepting the gourd and taking a swig of the thick sticky sap inside. It burns all the way down.

“This partys essentially for him- I’m surprise you we’re able to get away from dad” Lo’ak shit-talks, like he always does. It’s good natured for the most part “I thought he might throw you a parade or something. Call in the clans-”

“Fuck you, man” Neteyam chuckles, shaking his head at Lo’aks theatrics. “Don't be jealous”

“Jealous of dad? Nah” Lo’ak “Now the women you’re getting? That I might be jealous of”

“Hey!” the girl in his lap, a weaver from a modest family, squrims, pinching at his shoulder “You’ve got all the woman you need for the night, sayrip”

She squeals when Lo’ak squeezes her tight around her middle and blows wet raspberry kisses into her neck.

Neteyam just rolls his eyes and shares a little look with Spider. By the next eclipse, Lo’ak wouldve moved on. He has a knack for loving and leaving.

“Why arent you out there, bro? I saw Amitsa giving you the eyes! She’s so hot and she doesnt ever give anyone the time of day” Spider juts his chin and sure enough. The woman is giving Neteyam longing looks from across the fire. She’s a pretty thing and her sultry voice is renowned in the tribe. He’d be lying if he said he wasnt attracted to her “You’re not gonna go try to get at that?”

No. He’s not.

“Uh” Neteyam scratches the back of his neck “I was actually looking for Flora, I havent been able to find her around lately”

Of course, that sets of a exactly what he knows it would.

His brothers are assholes and have teased his merciesly since discovering his obsessive crush. Spider knocks his much smaller shoulder against Neteyam’s and Lo’ak hoots with laughter.

“How someone can be pussy whipped for pussy they haven't even had is beyond me” Lo’ak snorts and Neteyam gives him a warning growl, his lips snarled up.

It’s nothing he hadn’t heard before.

Lo’ak finds it endlessly amusing that Neteyam had his eye on you, the tiny human he’d grown up so lukewarm about. It had always been his siblings; Kiri and Lo’ak and Tuk that were close with you growing up. Neteyam had never shown a speck of interest until your figure had grown curvy and supple-

“Piss off, I wasn’t asking you” Neteyam gives his best big brother stare down. His golden eyes hard and unimpressed before looking to Spider, hairless brows raised “You know where I could find her?”

“Listen man, she said wasn’t interested in hanging out with anyone tonight” the human man starts with a sigh and Neteyam’s growl is low and warning “-but I’m sure you can find her where she always is”

Neteyam wracks his brain for a moment “The Greenhouses?”

“Bingo” Spider nods, an almost sympathetic look in his eye as he watches Neteyam jump to his feet and set off.

Lo’ak sniggers and the girl in his lap scoffs and mutters something about “shameful, being that twisted up about a tawtute” but Spider says nothing.

Instead his plixr hazed eyes focus on the figure dancing close to the firelight. Kiri lets out a twinkling laugh at something Tuk says and yeah. Spider understands Neteyam. He understands being completely obsessed with something you’ve never had.

Instead of taking a note from his much braver brother, he lifts his mask and takes another shot of the acidic syrup.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Neteyam could make the trek through the forest to Hells Gate in his sleep..

He’d spent a good chunk of his childhood retracing these exact steps, headeded for the familiar concrete fortress that made up the last human outpost on Pandora.

Neteyam had always been far too similar to his mother, for countless reasons. But his distaste for everything industrial was one of the main reasons. As he got older he spent less and less time here. Couldnt be found in the cold echoing hallways like Lo’ak and the girls coul

But even he could admit.

There’s something beautiful about the Greenhouses.

With their dome like structure, the big glass buildings are a fortress for the humans. Inside they’re as hot and humid as the Pandoran rainforests- but circulating Earth air so that the fruits and vegetables that are native to Terra Firme can grow, even on this alien planet.

Neteyam makes his way inside, plugging in the codes into the keypad and letting himself in through the pressurized doors that slide closed right behind him. His eyes are peeled, taking in all of the foreign greenery, hoping to catch a flash of tanned skin or light hair in the cracks between trees.

The Greenhouses are huge. There’s orchards of apples and oranges and long deep garden beds full of root vegetables. Enough to feed the Hell’s Gate settlement throughout the year, to trade with the People of the Omaticaya.

No matter, he’s a blooded hunter after all.

He hones in on that training as he tracks your path. Your footprints along the cement floor are light, and really you barely leave any trace of yourself at all. You float along with light steps and Neteyam truly thinks if you had been born one of the People you would’ve made a fine huntswoman-

He finds you in the shade of the orange trees. You’re up on a stool, gathering the plump fruit and humming a pleasant little tune.

You’re ethereal in artificial sunlight.

You’re something out of the books that Norm used to read to them when they were kids. His favorite had been the one about the boy who would never grow up and the island of Neverland. And the tiny golden dust covered pixi that flitted from page to page.

A fairy.

A being not quite real. Too gentle and feminine to exist.

He likes the tawtute clothes you wear. The small top that clings to your breasts like a second skin and the flowy patterned skirt. Of course if it was up to him you’d only ever wear the garments of the People- or even better, Nothing at all.

You reach too high, strained up on your tippy toes and Neteyam feels irrational fear at that. At all of your delicate skin and breakable neck-

He’s beside you in an instant and he doesn't need a ladder to reach the high hanging fruit you’d been struggling for. He grabs the fruit with one hand while the other stabilizes you, his big palm spread out across the small of your back.

You gasp at his warm touch. Your head snapping in his direction and legs going wobbly.

“Neteyam!”

“Flora” He sighs as he urges you down from the ladder, takes the heavy bucket of fruit from your hands “You really do need to be more careful”

You splutter for a moment, still shocked at his sudden arrival “I- ugh! I was fine!” you insist haughtily “It’s not like I don't do this all of the time. You didn't need to come help me, I can manage perfectly fine on my own”

“Need to help you?” Neteyam cocks his head a bit.

“Yeah…I mean. Why else would you be here?” you ask, scratching awkwardly at your arm for a moment “Tonight's the celebration. You really should be back with the clan-”

“As should you” He cuts you off firmly. Not liking the way that you’re trying to separate yourself from the tribe. From him “I have not seen you for days. Do you not want to feast with our people?”

You sigh, looking away from him. Biting at that plump ever pink bottom lip of yours. Always shy, he knows he needs to bring you out of your shell. You’ll find a way to run away from him again if he doesn't.

“I didnt come here to help you” Neteyam admits because he’s selfish and because you’re too beautiful. Even more so, since you’ve been hiding from him. Avoiding his attention.

“Oh really?” you’re not coy by nature but there's something in your eyes. In the way you’re looking up at him “Then what are you here for?”

“My kiss”

Your pupils expand, just the tiniest bit but he can see it. He can see it all. Every inch of your pretty face, unbridled by that cumbersome mask you usually are forced to don. He can see every freckle and blemish- and the way that a blush creeps across the apples of your cheeks.

“A deals a deal” Neteyam insists at the prolonged silence. At your nervous flicking gaze.

“Okay” is your sweet reply and he can only stare at your plump lips. A man with one thing and one thing only on his mind.

You don't protest when he reaches for you. When his big hands go around your waist and tug slowly until he’s enveloping you in his chest. You fit so perfectly, right under his sternum. Stare up at him with wide eyes that flutter closed the closer he inches his face towards yours.

The kiss is wet and electric and Neteyam wants to eat you whole.

Any awkwardness that comes from the size difference is soon overcome by the desire that simmers between you. You let him lead, always so willing to go with whatever flow he may give. Let him nip at your delicate bottom lip until he can almost taste the metallic twang of blood. Let him stick his much bigger tongue into your warm mouth, and then down your constricting throat.

As you make little gasping choking sounds, he imagines it's his huge pulsing cock stealing the air from your lungs instead.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, as he trails kisses down your soft jaw. He cant stop, wants to taste you everywhere. Every inch of skin. He know it must be overwhelming- if your heaving breaths and mewls are anything to go by, he knows you’re feeling every inch of the mind spinning need that he is.

Still,

No matter how much he gropes at you with rough hands and drags spit soaked kisses over your neck and chest, youre so good for him. Such a good girl. Holding on for any ride he might take you on. Your fingers twined in his silky braids arent there to push him away, but to pull him closed.

When he grasps you by the back of your thighs and hoists- you wrap your legs around his slim waist, your ankles hooking at his lower back.

The helpless noise you make goes straight to his groin.

Neteyam lies you down on hard floor. He’d rather have you in the warmth of his Kelku, or under the stars, but at least here he can get at your maskless face. At your bare lips. Once he’s cradling your head safely and tucked in between your spread thighs he's at you again. Ravenously.

You’re so docile, so eager to let him take whatever he wants.

“Flora” he husks into your hair and you shiver.

“Yeah?”

“Flora” Neteyam brings your little body even closer.”You have no Idea. I have to have you. I need-”

You squeak needily “You can have whatever you need” and gasp when Neteyam kisses your cheek. Your lips. Your jaw. Your neck. Your nerves are on fire and your hips grind against his.

“I need this body. I need to see all of it, you drive me crazy” Neteyam armits as he tugs on your top and you help him pull it up over your head. You dont wear a bra, why would you? Your pretty rosy nipples are all on display for him. Pebbled and begging for attention, He laps slowly with his wide textured tongue at the puffy nub.

He suckles like a newborn until you’re chivalry and making hurt little sounds, until your pretty chest is covered in blooming bruises.

And then he’s dragging his wanting mouth down. Past your heaving ribs and over your soft belly. Neteyam hikes the flowy material of your skirt up high, until he can bend down and poke his head underneath.

“Oh!” you gasp, writhing a bit. Your thighs trying to close on instinct.

You’re so wet for him, the smell of it is thick and heady and he digs his nose into your inner thigh and snuffles. Its mouthwatering.

And it bit mortifying, from your end. Having the large man with his head buried under your skirt as he sniffs at your core-

When he licks a fat stripe over you, wetting up the thin material of your panties you cry out. No ones ever touched you like this and here he is, licking at your clothed pussy. Over and over until the fabric is translucent and sticky with your flowing juices.

“Please” you mewl, gathering the fabric, yanking until you can see him.

Its filthy and erotic. The sight of his hulking blue body between your trembling tanned thighs. So alien. So taboo-

“Please what, sylaung?” Neteyam taunts, his golden eyes meeting yours. They shine with mirth, and lust. So much lust. When he noses at your pink flowery panties you throw your head back, eyes squeezed closed. Unable to take the sight any longer “You want me to take care of you?”

“Yes” you sob because you’re pulsing and you can barley breathe you’re so horny “Please take care of me with your tongue”

Neteyam strips you then, out of your skirt and cute little panties and you’re lying under him. Naked and flushed and wanting.

He shoulders himself exactly back where he wants to be. Where he’s always wanted to be.

“Don't worry, I’ll take care of this sweet pussy for you”

Oh god. Your head is spinning.

You can barely think as he kisses on the jiggling fat of your thighs.

“I’m sorry” you gasp.

Neteyam hums right against your core and you can feel the vibrations throughout your entire body “What for?”

“I’m so messy” you whisper, that pink blush blooming all over your body.

Groaning, Neteyam can't wait any longer. Your flavor bursts along his taste buds. Tangy and earthy and decadently sweet. He’s had his fair share of cunt before, but he’s never tasted a humans and he’s shocked at how saccharine it is. It’s sticky and coats his mouth and throat. His lips and nose and chin as he digs in.

“Neteyam!” You wait.

“Fuck. Oh, Eywa. One Second” Neteyam sits up and adjusts himself where his painfully hard under his tweng and the ache in you deepens. You try to be good, try to be still as he leans in and licks at you again. Kisses your pussy in that same beautiful passionate way he kisses your lips.

He’s good. Too good at this. He’s had too much practice and you never had a chance againts that oversized mouth.

“Holy fuck” the words sound even more vulgar in your honeyed voice “Fucking hell, Nete. Nete. I’m almost there”

Neteyam grin is hidden between the lips of your pussy. He doubles down, letting you hump and soak his face. Then lapping back at inside of you in a repetitive and ceaseless rhythm, One that has you shaking, arching up off the ground. Your plush thighs closing, clamping around his head as you come.

Your orgasm cinches tight and rushes around you, inside of you, out of you with a gush of slick. It’s so deep. So strong, that it takes a moment for you to truly peak and it leaves you in a daze. Out side of your body as you fuck up againts Neteyams mouth like a wild animal.

You’d never come so hard in your life and it takes a while for you to recenter.

Once youre able to focus past the rushing in your ears, the first thing you notice is Neteyam’s face streaked with wet. Your blush blooms across your cheeks as you both breathe unevenly into the quiet.

“Did that feel good?” Nereyam knows it did, but still. He needs to ask. Needs to hear you say it.

You giggle, girlish and airy as your dainty hand releases his hair and cups at his cheek “So so good. I’ve never felt anything like that before”

His grin is all too feline and seeing those white canines gleam so close to the most sensitive part of you is a little alarming.

“There’s so much more to come, yawntutsyip” Neteyam promises, leading back down. His fingers play with the jiggle of your thigh- so different then any of the Omaticaya women he’s had You squirm a bit, clearly overstimulated, but keep your legs spread anyway.

Neteyams long digits prod gently at your pussy lips. You’re oddly pretty here. All red and rosy and inflamed, like that blush he loved so much on your cheeks. He spreads you with two fingers so that he can look at you inside. At your quivering pink folds and your tiny little hole that clenches when he runs his finger along it.

“You’re so small here” he whispers, completely hypnotized by it “So fucking tight. You’ll never be able to take me”

You whimper unhappily “Don’t say that. I want to- please just try”

“Shh,” Neteyam soothes your cries. Your dazed worries. He distracts you with his tongue, as it swirls over your throbbing clit. It feels a bit like sandpaper to your nerves, but you can get enough.

When his finger begins to breach you, you hold your breath.

Its big, but youre so loose from your first orgasm, so desperate to be filled that he sinks in until the hilt.

Its maddening after that and you grind the back of your head into the hard concrete under you- your eyes closed and your mouth hanging open. The sounds you make are feral and raw-

Neteyam fucks you open with one and then two fingers until its easy. Until the sweet stretch doesn't burn- instead its slippery and wet.horribly wet as Neteyam feasts on you as he fucks you with his fingers-

“Too much-Fuck” you weakly try to pull away from the assult of pleasure but he he’s too strong. Pins you down. Makes you take whatever he wants to give you.

When he lifts your hips up even higher to take a curious lick at your puckered asshole you white out.

This orgasm isnt like the first. You sink under the waves of this one. Your muscles cramp with the intensity. You cant come back to yourself, you can’t cling to anything but Neteyam. You cant even scream.

He’s everything, as he soothes you. As he makes you feel things you’ve never felt before.

“H-hurts” you whimper, eyes filling up with tears. Pussy aching.

“Just a little more baby” Neteyam huffs as he licks at you and stuffs the hand that's covered in your cum down his own tweng. It lubricates the fast and furious pumping of his fist along his rock hard cock.

He cant fuck you tonight, thats something the two of you will have to work up to. He’ll teach your tiny body to take him. To crave penetration.

But with his tongue buried in your pulsating pussy and your scent all around him its easy enough to pretend. Easy enough to imagine shoving himself into you slowly. Stretching you’re ruined. Your hole would never be the same. You’d forever gape because of him-

Neteyam comes with a roar and dirties his loincloth up like a teenager.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Later, after he’s cleaned you both up the best he can and gathered you to his chest. After he’s taken a sip from the breathing mask and nuzzled ar your wispy soft baby hairs that are plastered against the side of your sweaty head-

That he has the urge to read that book again. The one with the fairies. As he watches your slumbering face, your nose scrunching and lips pursing, he thinks the onlt thing missing is the gossamer wings,

His own little fairy.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

AAAAAAND we’re done.

First and foremost I want to give the wonderful @oakbuggy her accolades. Her Neteyam x Flora art inspired this fic 100%. A couple months ago I actually messaged her begging her to let me right this for her because I just couldn't get over this crackship of dreams. Thank you for being so patient with me. I hope you enjoy that overstimulation, baby!

PLEASE GO CHECK OUT HER ART. It’s sooooo delish.

This was a monster to write because I just had so many different ideas of what I wanted to do with the two of them and couldn't pinpoint where exactly I wanted the plot to go. Even now its a bit messy but still. I’m a fucking sucker for Neteyam x Flora and I would be more then happy to write more of them if thats something everyone would be into.

Please give me some feedback. What did we think about this writing style? Do we like the Y/N route more?

Until next time sweet honey bees!

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x human!reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x flora #neteyam x you

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hedgehog-moss · 10 months

Text

I found a nice plant in a bog last year, like a reed with a tuft of very soft cotton at the top (bless you English, I just looked up "plant that grows in a bog and looks like cotton" and the English language replied "bog cotton, duh") (in French it's called linaigrette, which should be a small bird), and I was very charmed by the look of it and decided to try to pirate it so I would have some on my land. I plucked one fluffy reed and kept it on my windowsill so I wouldn't forget to return.

Of course, when I returned a few days later with a shovel and a bucket, I couldn't find the bog cotton again. Or the bog. It was a small swamp-y area in a very vast plateau with few landmarks, so it's possible I got turned around, but also, things tend to disappear around here sometimes, like the footpath that leads to the stream, only to reappear a few weeks later. I very much felt like I was in the correct location and the bog wasn't, but okay. Since I didn't trust myself to tell the normal reeds from the cotton-y ones in other seasons, I decided I'd come back around the same time next year.

I've had the linaigrette in my egg spiral in the kitchen this whole time as a memento, and I finally resumed my quest today. I left my car in the exact same spot where I'd left it the previous two times, just before the road gets squiggly for no apparent reason:

I climbed the hill and behind it were just miles and miles of estives (summer cow pastures) with sometimes a barn here and there with a mobile milking parlour. My plan was to follow every rivulet I came across, since I was looking for a watery area.

I picked a barn as a landmark to find my car again, and off we went.

Finding reeds wasn't difficult, but none of them had cotton tufts...

Pandolf was extremely aware that we were looking for something, but he wasn't sure what. Here he is digging in the mud with his paw, looking invested in this treasure hunt.

Sometimes he would stop with one paw poised in the air and his whole body pointed forwards like an English setter who just smelled a pheasant in a Heywood Hardy painting and it was always for cow herds. If I squinted and squinted I could be sure to find a cow on the horizon, the size of an ant—I think Pan was a bit disappointed when he realised I never followed up on the cows he smelled, and it probably wasn't cows we were looking for.

(zoom x400 in case you can't see this cow standing apart from her herd like a sentinel)

I tried to amuse him by giving him little challenges here and there, like climbing on big rocks because he likes rocks. He likes being congratulated even more, though, and if I didn't insist that he actually climb on the rock he would just sort of run towards it and push himself off of it like a swimmer doing a flip turn at the wall to run back to me even faster (for pats). (Had to turn off the sound in the video because the wind was loud, so I subtitled our dialogue)

Some challenges he politely declined to do. I like how despite being very eager to please he sometimes gives me very clear "no thank you"s when I tell him to do something that sounds absurd to him. We found a little waterfall that went down a slope like a mud toboggan and I said "down!" to tell him to slide down that thing and he was like

Our strategy of following water paid off, because look what we found eventually!!

I had a very hard time digging up one clump of reeds with some roots; the bog was holding on to its cotton for dear life. Every time I opened a hole in the mud with my shovel with a horrible sucking noise, the bog would immediately close on itself again with an even stronger vacuum. It also tried to eat my boots, repeatedly. When I moved around the reeds I was trying to steal I had to take my foot out of my boot, stand on one leg like a heron and put the tip of my shovel under the sole of the boot to pry it up. But after maybe 20min of effort, the bog finally let go of one muddy clump of reeds in a loud, dejected SLURP and I was able to put it in my bucket. It was about 10x heavier than I expected so the walk back to my car was slow!

(One thing to keep in mind if you're going to wrestle a swamp for half an hour, is that you're going to end up looking and smelling like a swamp creature. I had to stop at the post office to send a parcel and I really regretted not doing it earlier. It's funny because the post office lady is always like "no, don't worry, come in!! <3" when you show up on rainy days apologising for your muddy shoes, but when I arrived today and asked her from the entrance if I should just throw my parcel at her rather than go in, with my socks making a pitiful plop-plop sound in my boots as I walked, and mud freckles all over my face from aggressive shovelling, and overall looking like a gravedigger, she took one look at me and went "... yes, throw it.")

The good news is, I didn't get lost returning from the swamp to my car, and had no trouble finding my barn-landmark again, and there were new animals there, a nice mule with a retinue of small ponies.

She was friendly at first but then soured on me when I refused to let her sniff and maybe taste the reeds I'd had so much trouble digging up, and then she wouldn't let me approach her ponies.

One of the ponies approached Pandolf, and I told him to stand still—we've been working on "reste là !" (stay there) for a while and it's hard because he's so friendly and exuberant, so I was very proud of him when he stood there frozen as a marble statue, waiting for the pony to come closer. The pony ended up stopping at a prudent distance and stretching his neck out to try and sniff Pandolf, it was very cute.

That's the end of the quest for bog cotton! Here it is now, transplanted to the swamp-y part of my pasture, I hope it'll like it here.

#crawling along

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blkgirl-writing · 8 months

Note

Hi, I saw your smut requests post and was wondering if you could write one about touch starved Gale finally being alone with reader/Tav and getting his satisfaction? (Yeah, I got inspired by your nsfw headcanons about him, how could you tell?) Please and thank you!

PS Can I be 🧀 anon?

What happened at the moon lit pond

Gale X Fem!Reader

Baldurs gate 3

It’s been, probably three years since I’ve written a full fanfic? I’ll admit I’m probably a little rusty. Thank y’all for hanging in, and I hope this fulfills our nerdy wizard boy needs. thank you so much 🧀 anon for the request! I hope you stay and request some more.

Important tags: lots of pining, some angst (no sad ending), smutty (male and female Masterbation, male giving female oral), spoilers for gales mid game story, romance, Gale is an anxious mess, The thought of gale brushing his hair from his face got me GOING 😩

Word count: 1.9k

(Part 1.5 HERE) (PART 2 HERE)

(Gale headcanons that inspired this here)

Gale didn’t know how to handle these new feelings for you. He makes a fool of himself everyday, it seems. He always offers you a slice of his bread, even if you gave your own, he saves some of his own morning coffee for you, since he wakes up earlier, and even warm it up for you with a spell.

He simply wanted you to like him. That would be all he needed, but anything else that may follow that would be a true blessing. Gale wanted nothing more than to make you laugh, to see your smile and know he was the reason why, to camp and be the first and last person you’d speak to before sleep.

Gale wouldn’t let his mind wander much past that, or he tried to not let it. The occasional dream would slip through where you were his, and he was yours. It simply put him in panic mode In the waking hours, trying to not be obvious, scared you’d find out, what exactly? He wasn’t sure. You were too kind to break his heart so effortlessly, like he feared you would.

Endless scenarios danced in gales head of rejection, humiliation, and what would happen if he let himself go, life he was tasked to do. It wouldn’t take much, to convince him to live. Friendship, a place to call home, even if it was ever moving. Company he could entrust his life to. It was all so appealing. Luring him into life, breathing a new passion into his purpose, one he’d lost many years ago, sometime when he was alone for so many years.

Those thoughts seemed to linger on forever, sweeping over his barely conscious brain to awaken him again, rustling him from what could be a good nights rest. Eventually, Gale decided to just get up and go for a walk.

Camp had been set up in one of the most beautiful places any of you had seen. Waterfalls tinted emerald green, sand fine and shimmering in the light, may it be sun or moon. I’m one of those waterfalls, he found you.

Waist deep in the pond. Skin and hair dripping wet, shining more than usual water would, adding a silver glow to the night. You looked better than a goddess could ever imagine, and still, his eyes never dipped below you shoulders, even though he deeply wanted to look lower. Instead, he stood there, looking like a fucking idiot, gods know how long. Maybe a tree branch snapped, or maybe you finally snapped out of your trance, but your head whipped in his direction, eyes darting across the small beach, only relaxing when you realize only gale stands before you.

“Oh, Gale, it’s just you…” you let out a deep, jagged breath, the anxiety flowing out of your body just as quickly as it racked through it.

“Just? Are you disappointed?” Gale smirked, although his heart raced in his chest, one word and he'd sulk back to camp, but gods he wanted to stay and spend the whole night with you under the stars.

“Far from it, really. I was just thinking about how much you’d enjoy this view if you were here” you tore your eyes away from Gale, focusing on the stars. “I thought it may remind you of waterdeep. You paint a very beautiful picture of home.”

“I can think of a few things much, much more beautiful than Waterdeep,” his voice low, raspier than usual. Easily explained away from the lack of sleep or old sleeping bags, not for what it really was. Deep yearning, wanting, needing.

“I’d love to see them someday, then.”

“We’ll just have to get you a mirror, then,” “All the beauty in the world would reflct

"Gale, I-" You finally looked into his eyes, he wore his heart on his sleeve, at least for a moment. Those puppy eyes, dark bust glistening in the full moonlight, his hair messy from turning in his sleep, he wanted you, in many more ways than one. Gale's emotions could never be that simple, of course.

"Well," you walked towards him, water inching lower and lower, revealing more and more of your body, yet gales eyes stayed on yours. "Why don't you join me for a swim. It's a beautiful night."

"an offer I could not refuse." Gale's face was plastered with that cocky smile, the one that could melt anyone into a puddle in seconds.

He might have been a gentleman and kept his eyes upwards, but you were not so much, Gale untied his robes, gods why were there so many damn layers? It was quite a sight, his little mannerisms that showed more of him to you than he had shown to you. He was nervous, his fingers missing the simple ties frequently, he got annoyed by his hair getting in his eyes, a grimace appearing before he swept his hair behind his ear.

Your eyes lingered on his circle smoke tattoo, his toned arms, his downright massive hands. he was more tan than you realized, To be fair, he's always covered in those loose robes, leaving you to wonder what was underneath. You were more than happy to finally be finding out. But not below the waist.

"Isn't it a bit cold to be this naked?"

"The water is warmer than the air, I promise." You extended a hand out to Gale, even though he was feet away from you. "Come on, Gale from Waterdeep being afraid of some cold water? Sounds redundant."

"You got me there." He finally stepped into the glimmering pond surrounded by rocks and sand, enough to have your own little corner, to lessen the echo if it was needed. The whole camp didn't need to know all of your business. It must've been a magical lake, as both you and Gale noted separately. Unnaturally still, even when you moved freely, small glowing lights pooled at your sides, occasionally bubbling into the air once you leaned against a large, bright rock.

"May I ask what you were doing out here at this hour?" Gale spoke, still much further away from you than he wanted to be,

"Can I not take a mid-night swim?" You raised your brows in a questioning glance his way "A woman needs time to herself. These days and nights have been very stressful."

Gales very audible oh, slipped through the silence. "You don't have to relax alone." His eyes finally gave in to the need, scanning your body with a low moan slipping past his lips. His excitement was immediate, brushing against your lower stomach all the way past your navel.

"You've wanted this." You stated, brushing your hand against his thigh.

"There's plenty of magic around us, I want the Gale right in front of me." You dared to inch even closer, his thigh fully slipping between yours, inches away from touching your pussy. His hands floated inches from your waist, "Let me give you everything"

"Give me everything" With that, Gale's hand grabbed your waist, gently guiding you onto his thigh, motioning your hips down and swaying only him. The sensation sent sparks flying through his body, you were right in front of him, completely bare and rocking with pleasure onto him. Better than any dream he'd thought up, any fantasy that ran through his head even at the most inappropriate of times. Yes even during the throws of battle. Even in hard times like that, he was so drawn to you.

Gales other hand came up to your jawline, tilting your head so he could latch his mouth around your neck. Deep marks left behind while he inches his way in hickeys up your neck, jaw, and finally to your lips. Any semblance of anonymity flew out the window, not a single person could miss what he gave you, artfully placed dark spots painting your skin. "I have never seen such a beautiful being in my life"

"I could say the same about you gale," You said betwixt breathy moans, picking up the pace of your grinding hips against his thigh, his hand on your waist moving between a tight grip on your ass, and a light but so effective caress of your clit. Every time you got so close, his fingers moved, he was teasing you. His cocky smirk felt even through his kiss.

"I want you to come on my mouth." As if he was reading your slightly frustrated thoughts, "I want to taste you in my dreams."

All you could manage was a frantic nod, a mumbled yes, and shakily hoisting yourself up onto a rock that was perfect for gales pretty head to be between your thighs. Gale pushed your thighs apart with one hand, which stayed firmly grabbing onto you. The other sneaked up your thigh, tracing patterns along your skin. "Gale, please," you whispered out of pure desperation. The only warmth coming from your feet still in the water, otherwise your skin exposed to the biting air.

"All you had to do was ask, my lady" Gales fingers easily slid into you, curling up and pumping in and out, while he leaned into your pussy, maintaining eye contact as he placed one kiss just to the right of where you needed him to be. All he needed was to be touched, to touch you. Your legs wrapped around him to get Gale even closer, urging him closer.

"Touch yourself" Barely a whisper, but Gale caught it, and certainly didn't need to be told twice. Secretly, he could cum from this alone, your taste, how soft you were, how loud you could get. It was more than enough to orgasm right there with you, however, that is not exactly how he wanted your first sexual experience to go. His hand clutching your thigh came to his cock, rubbing much faster and harder than he was fingering you. he was eager. He wanted this to last forever, he wanted you to cum again and again and again into his mouth. He wanted his face even more dripping from your juices.

"Gale I can't hold it-" You nearly screamed, his tongue swirling and sucking, lightly biting, it was almost too much. Then, he moaned. A loud, deep moan and that was it. Vibrations running through your body from his mouth. there noise that left your mouth could've been heard across Baldurs gate, you silently thanked this magical pound for being so secluded, as you would be borderline embarrassed if people heard. Gales didn't come back up for hair until he was sure you were finished, getting every last drop of you.

"You certainly are loud" Gales tone was so smug it almost made you laugh. You gripped onto his shoulders as he swept you down from the perch, pressing his whole body to yours. After all that, after her definitely came, he was still so hard, and so pressed against you that you couldn't help but gasp. "I want to hear that again."

"Hear what, exactly?" you teased, lifting a finger to trace his chest.

"To hear you cum," his lips dipped down to your ear, slightly nibbling on it, before he rasped "and to feel you on my cock."

Part two, here

(Requests Open)

#x reader #smut #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale x reader smut #gale smut #gale of waterdeep smut #gale dekarios smut #gale dekarios x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 smut #baldurs gate 3 x reader #tav #requests open #astarion x reader

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leaflets-11 · 2 years

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Heading towards a spiritual evolution 🙏💙

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xervn · 2 months

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𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 🔧

oneshot | mechanic ellie x reader

ao3 link

summary: your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, but thankfully ellie shows up and offers her help

18+ MDNI | 6.3k words | tags; modern au, porn w/ plot (like 70% is plot tbh), kissing, vaginal fingering, pining from reader? arguably, no use of y/n, not proofread

my first post on tumblr EVER and my first time seriously writing smut, so pls be kind!

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It’s midday and you’ve been driving down an isolated road in fuck-knows-where with the hopes you’ll be able to find a gas station in at least 15 minutes. You’ve been driving down this straight road for what felt like ages now, your only surroundings being orange-colored sand and leafless plants.

Never in your life has driving made you more anxious, it was like you were in charge of safely disarming a bomb. You gripped the wheel and glanced at the gas gauge occasionally, each look wearing your hope thinner. You were supposed to fill your tank before leaving, but it wasn’t in your plans to get lost in the first place. You knew your incompetence would catch up to you eventually, but you didn’t think it’d be now.

Your teeth grit against each other as you raced against time. You desperately repeated affirmations, hoping they would help you along the way. Maybe if you ignored the fact you could be stranded, you’ll get to your destination faster.

My gas is NOT running out…

I will NOT have a mental breakdown…

I AM responsible…

Not even a good moment later, the engine starts sputtering as if you called it upon yourself. You desperately tapped at the fuel gauge, resulting in the amount dropping drastically. To your surprise, it’s been showing the wrong amount the entire time. You drove towards the side of the road so you could let the tank run out while you spit out a colorful array of obscenities. There was no doubt in your mind that this might be the worst day of your life.

You slammed at the dashboard of your piece of shit, beat up, 2012 Toyota Tacoma with unprecedented rage, dropping your head onto the steering wheel in defeat. The depleting noises the engine made as it slowly died only added to how you were feeling. Your face heated up and your eyes brimmed with tears; not because you were sad, but because you were so damn pissed.

“Fuck my life...” You sobbed out, forehead pressing harder into the wheel.

The sudden blaring sound that came from the car’s diaphragm jolted you up and caused you to yelp out. Everything’s silent for a while— you included— like a city before a tsunami attacks or the quiet before a dam bursts. In proper fashion, you unleashed a waterfall of tears; slowly, but surely, turning into a wallowing mess. Tears, snot, and saliva everywhere all because you made an irresponsible decision and drove a terrible car to make irresponsible decisions in.

Out of frustration, you honked some more, beating at the wheel’s center like there’s a solution inside of it. Certainly, this wasn’t the best way to handle your situation, but it was the only thing you had the energy to do. Amidst all the beeping and profanities, you failed to notice a car pulling up beside you. They honked their horn in unison with yours and the harmony caused you to frantically look around for the source.

You turned to your left and your gaze was met with a green set of eyes. It only took a second longer for you to realize who or what was looking at you. A woman with short auburn hair and a freckled face was shooting you a concerned glare.

All that was running through your head now was that a woman was looking at you and the manic episode you were having would undoubtedly scare off any future prospects. As your stomach turned into knots of shame, you muttered a low swear and quickly wiped away the remaining tears on your face.

You took a deep breath and calmly rolled down your window, which took an agonizingly slow amount of time. You occasionally spared the woman a few awkward glances with an equally awkward grin. Your humiliation built up along with the comically loud sound coming from the rolling window. After what felt like an eternity later, the window finally rolled down and you looked up to meet the woman’s gaze again, further examining her features.

Right there and then, you swore your heart fell out of your ass. You never thought you’d find yourself saying something so cliche, but the lady was a sight for your teary sore eyes. She was wearing a simple gray tank top, which showcased her spectacularly shaped arms and tattooed forearm.

The sight of her alone made you question your sanity. Maybe you were imagining her to make you feel better? You wouldn’t be surprised if you did.

As you looked up at her even more attractive face, you noticed her scarred brow was perked up, which could only mean she noticed you staring, and based on the subtle curl at the corner of her lips; she found it amusing too.

Your face instantly warmed up. You needed to defend your ogling quickly, but before you could manage out a single word, the beauty beat you to it.

“Are you okay?” The woman questioned, the slight lilt at the end of it only deepened your embarrassment. It physically pained you to imagine how much of your breakdown she saw.

“I’m fine, I was just...” You couldn’t finish your sentence, so you let out a sheepish laugh to fill in the space.

“You sure? It looks like you’re having some trouble.” The woman gestures her head at your car as she speaks, not breaking a second of eye contact.

You chewed on your lip, nervously shifting your stare before admitting, “Uh, yeah. I ran out of gas...”

“Looks like it slightly inconvenienced you.”

A subconscious scoff fell from your mouth as you lazily gestured around you. “Slightly?”

“Just a guess. I could hear the honking a mile away.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the only thing that works on this junk.”

The woman let out an amused hum, casually glancing at the road behind her before turning to you again. “Did you already call for help?”

“Nope...” You responded, your eyes still wandering off.

The woman idly wet her lips in thought before driving up the road. For a moment, you thought she rudely left you stranded on the side of the road, but after carefully looking, you noticed she was driving a tow truck.

Your previous thought that she might be a figment of your imagination immediately came back, because what the hell? A real-life angel came to save you at your lowest. She parked in front of your car and stepped out of the vehicle and you peered out the window of yours, shamelessly following her movements in awe.

She was slim, lean, and held an average height. The jeans she was wearing fit her so nicely, you actually had to pinch yourself to stop looking.

You reached for your rearview mirror and pointed it towards yourself, making sure most of your makeup was intact. Much to your dismay, your eyeliner was smudged, and your lip gloss was wiped away. So, not only did she watch you wail like a baby, you looked like one too. You glimpsed back at the woman, making sure she wouldn’t catch you in the act of dolling up for her.

You stepped out of the car after quickly fixing your makeup, a bit shy to face the woman now. You weren’t particularly dressed like you were ready to do any flirting today, sporting a white graphic crop tee and distressed blue jean shorts. Nonetheless, you fidgeted with your clothes before approaching her.

She double glanced at you as she moved stuff off the truck’s ramp, eventually blurting out, “I don’t have any gas in my truck, and uh–“ She abruptly stopped her action to look at you as she spoke, “– there’s no gas station out here for a while, but I have a garage not too far away.”

“You’ll help me? I mean, is it okay? I don’t wanna shit on your plans.” You asked, but mostly out of decency. You needed the help after all. Plus, your only other option was to wait for another mechanic instead of just going with this extremely hot one.

She grinned and nodded a few times reassuringly. You found that every little motion she did melted you a bit. Just the tease of a smile from her could turn you into pudding. “It’s no problem, I was headed there anyway. It’s not every day I get to rescue a damsel in distress.”

You bit down a bashful grin as you muttered a thanks and she told you to wait in the passenger seat. When you walked off, you swore you could feel her eyes burning into you. You couldn’t tell if it was a phantom feeling or if she was actually staring you down, but every inch of you hoped for the latter.

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You took a look around your surroundings. The car smelled like diesel and marijuana, but you weren’t expecting much from a tow truck. There was a cute 3D dinosaur pendent hanging off the rear-view mirror and the car had small handmade stickers across the dashboard.

Before you could look any further, the woman stepped into the driver’s seat and started the car. She just hooked your car up to hers, so she had to take a look behind to make sure it was in place, setting her tattooed arm on your headrest as she did so. Your heart skipped at the closeness and all you could do was stare at her like a dork.

It was slightly perverse how much you enjoyed staring at her face. You’ve seen beauty before, but she was a discovery. Another plus was that she smelt really good. She didn’t wear a sweet or flowery perfume. She wore something earthier, and it blended in perfectly with that slight hint of gasoline. The best way to describe it is that she smelt like a pinewood air freshener in a new car but fucking hot.

The woman caught you off guard with a glance, her own face a bit shocked to find you looking at her. You quickly averted your gaze and eyed the road up instead, pursing your lips together as if nothing happened, attempting to ignore the shame away.

You were obviously embarrassed, and that usual mortified feeling washed over your body. She didn’t laugh or anything, but as she retrieved her arm and put her hand on the wheel, you nervously glimpsed at her face and saw a small, smug smile.

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The drive was painfully quiet. All you could hear was muffled crunchy sounds of the road and the humming of the truck’s engine. You sat there, fiddling with your shorts as you slowly zoned out.

“Where are you headed?” The woman blurted out, causing you to abruptly turn her way. She was still focused on the road ahead, so you took the time to peer at her side profile, in which you deemed needed to be framed and hung up in an art gallery.

“I’m going to see my family upstate for the holidays.”

“How long have you been driving then?”

“About... three hours.”

“Three hours and you didn’t think to stop for gas?” She huffed out a melodic laugh and peeked at you. You’d let her tease you as much as she wanted as long as you got to hear that laugh again.

“I thought I had enough! My stupid tank was reading wrong.” You responded, puffing your cheeks out at the thought.

“I’ll fix that too then.”

“That’d be appreciated.”

“Why’re you driving that old thing anyways?”

You shrugged as you spoke out, “Well, I’m a college student and it’s better than nothing.”

“Really? What’s your major?” She looked at you for a moment with genuine curiosity. It didn’t feel like she was just looking for small talk.

Her interest was comforting, but you were slightly wary to say it. Your major didn’t necessarily scream out sexy like psychology or law would. You hesitated before slowly speaking out. “… Astrophysics.”

You knew the chances of her having any idea what your nerdy major was about was incredibly low. You bit your lip as you waited for the awkward ‘oh’ or ‘cool’ that usually comes after.

“Astrophysics? That’s actually fuckin’ sick.”

Your brows rose in shock, never expecting anyone to respond that way. “Yeah, I like space stuff... I guess...”

You rubbed your forehead at your dull awkwardness and the woman let out another satisfying laugh at your lack of explanation. “That’s one reason to get into it. I like space stuff too. I think constellations are pretty neat.”

You smiled to yourself at her sincerity, and consequently, the thought of stars perked you up in an instance. “Me too! I had the perfect view of Aquila from my backyard growing up.”

“I’m jealous. I struggle connecting them myself, so I just go to that one space museum in the city to look at ‘em. But, fuck, if I could see– I know this is basic, but– if I could see Ursa Major with my own eyes?”

“You haven’t? The Big Dipper is one of the easiest to find.”

She chuckled before she spoke. “You’ll need to help me find it then.”

Help her find it? Lay underneath the stars and connect them with her? It was a very nice thought in your head, but you’re 100% sure she said it without thinking. You expected the previous silence to continue after that until she broke it again.

She was clearly embarrassed by herself, twisting her lips before finally saying something. “My name’s Ellie, by the way.”

You sheepishly responded with your name and Ellie subtly smiled as she continued to drive down the road.

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You guys pulled up to the driveway of the mechanic garage. There was a large decal with ‘MILLER AND CO’ over a wrench painted on the metal doors. The area was just as deserted as the road you guys drove on, minus the few farms around now.

“Is this yours?” You asked.

“Nah, it’s my dad’s. I try to enjoy it like it’s mine though.”

“Has this always been what you’ve wanted to do?” You wondered out loud, only to feel regretful after. You didn’t know her, and you were already asking personal questions. The slim chance she’s suddenly put off by you made you wanna curl into a ball and cry.

“I mean, I always wanted to be an astronaut growing up, but that was never in the cards for me. Things changed when my dad adopted me, I was practically glued to him. I did everything he did.” Ellie freely answered and it dropped your worries instantly. You found her openness incredibly attractive. At that moment, you could feel yourself yearning to learn more about her. “I still love everything about space though, don’t get me wrong.”

“And dinosaur stuff too?” You cheekily queried as you pointed at the rearview chain.

Ellie glanced at the cutesy decor and chuckled. “And dinosaur stuff too.”

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After getting the cars into the garage, Ellie steps out of the car and walks over to your side. You watched curiously as she strolled to your door and popped it open for you.

You stared and she stared back expectantly, gesturing for you to hop out. You smiled slightly at that, and Ellie smiled back. God, you could watch her smile for days on end.

“You can sit anywhere, it shouldn’t take too long.” Ellie said as you stepped out, closing the door behind you.

You turned to face her before continuing the conversation. “Thanks again. Also, err... how much is it gonna run me?” Your teeth clenched a little as you asked. It wasn’t the first thing that you wanted to say, but you weren’t made out of money. I mean, look at what you were driving.

Ellie snorted at your expression and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

In response, you gave a doubtful look. There was no way she was this kind and wanted nothing in return.

Leaning against the truck door, Ellie playfully rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. This is my good deed for the month.”

“Nothing? Nothing at all?” You quizzed, your brow perking curiously.

“Nothing at all. But if you insist…” She went on, looking off as if she was really changing her mind.

“No! No... Thank you.” You blurted.

You cursed yourself at how vulnerably broke you were being, and Ellie smiled wider than she had before. Once you caught onto that smile, your eyes latched on. It was only natural to stare at her teeth, her lips, wondering how they’d feel on yours; if she’d smile between her kisses.

You quickly snapped out of it before you spiraled any further, but clearly not fast enough.

“You have a staring problem, y’know?” Ellie stated, slightly tilting her head as she let her eyes travel over your body. A stare for a stare if you would.

“I wouldn’t say it’s a staring problem.”

“If it’s not staring, what is it?” She asked with her eyes locked onto yours.

“Admiring?”

Ellie was slightly surprised at your sudden boldness, her smile faltered for a millisecond before quickly returning.

“Hm, I could say the same.”

She basically confirmed she was also checking you out. Meaning, you had a chance. You looked away as you blushed fiercely, and in the corner of your eye you could see Ellie doing the same.

You don’t know when it started, but the vibe between you two became pleasantly tense. Any previous worries and doubts that Ellie might not like you vanished. You clearly had a chance with her, and you planned to see how far your luck would go. She turned away to clear her throat and pushed off the truck. You decided to move away yourself, finding a nice chair to settle yourself on.

The spot you sat at put Ellie in your direct line of sight. You should probably call your family and tell them you’d be running late, but you were comfortable where you were. Ellie was incredibly captivating; you wouldn’t mind trailing her with your eyes as she did simple tasks like filling up gas for the rest of your life. She was like a really good fucking movie.

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Thirty minutes into your imaginary film, you thought the picture quality was getting better, but you discerned it was just Ellie getting closer.

She rubbed her oiled hands off her shirt as she approached you. “Can you help me with something? I j–“

You sprang up to your feet before she could finish speaking. You didn’t need to hear what she had to say next. It wouldn’t hurt for her to see how interested you were.

Ellie went wide-eyed at your eagerness, shaking her head lightly.

“You could’ve let me finish talking first.” She said with a subtle, taunting smile.

“I didn’t need to. I’m already getting serviced for free, so I’ll gladly do it.”

“Getting serviced, huh?”

You smiled coyly at Ellie as you recognized the implications of her childish repetition before correcting yourself. “I’m already getting helped.”

Ellie retained her smile as she turned back to the car, gesturing for you to follow her with one of her stained hands. You followed her over to the driver’s side of your truck where she knelt down and shifted an arrangement of tools on the cement floor.

“I need to fix the wiring underneath your car to fix the fuel gauge. If you could hand the tools to me when I ask for ‘em, that’d be great. Can you do that for me?” Ellie questioned in a honeyed voice. She looked up at you, waiting for your answer; a cruel grin barely tugging at the corner of her lips.

You only nodded as her stare left you too flustered to speak. You knew the intentions from her tone of voice alone and, boy, did it work. She was teasing you again, but even more obvious than the last.

She fixed a set of tools on a white cloth, setting the toolbox open and nearby as well. You weren’t stupid, you can tell what almost all the tools were. Driving a car you do; it was only a matter of time before you had to do temporary repairs yourself. However, you realized the opportunity you had laid out in front of you, and you were most definitely gonna take it.

Ellie spoke as she retrieved a tool from the box, glancing at you to make sure you were following. Of course, you made sure to pay attention fully.

Her gorgeous green eyes laid upon your dreamy lash-filled gaze up and you could read the subtle fluster off her face. “This is a ratchet. I.. I’m sure you know that already though.” Whatever you were doing was working and Ellie’s little stammer was evidence.

You looked at the tool and pushed out your full, bottom lip, slightly shaking your head. “Nope. I do now though. What’s next?” You immediately resumed your gaze at Ellie before you could even finish speaking.

She grinned and it was clear she didn’t believe you, but the look in her eyes had a mischievous glint in them; so you knew it was definitely safe to continue.

“Alright, princess. This? —“ She paused to pick up another tool mid-sentence, and the break gave you just enough time to process the panty-soaking pet name. “— Is a screwdriver. The pointy end screws things in.”

You didn’t bother to look at the tool this time, making sure every inch of your face was telling her you wanted her to screw you in.

“Uh-huh.” You nod with your eyes glued on Ellie’s.

Ellie laughed lightly with a new tone to it. You couldn’t describe it if asked, but you could describe how it made you feel. It took everything for you not to clench your legs together to relieve your now growing pressure.

“Are you keepin’ up with me?” She said, teasingly.

You grazed your teeth along your bottom lip, and you hummed in response. Ellie licked hers like an effect from your cause before she continued to school you on the tools she needed.

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You two engaged in the flirty lesson until it eventually ended, and she left to fetch a garage creeper from a tool station nearby.

Ellie set it at the side of the truck, where the driver would be, and sat down and laid back on it. You were sitting on the floor by the tools now, so you could easily watch her work. She rolled backwards and underneath the car, adjusting herself on the trolley by sending her hips forward so sexily you wondered if she did it on purpose. In that motion her top rode up a bit and since you were so close, you could ogle up her midriff freely.

“Screwdriver. Enjoying the view?” Ellie suddenly quizzed.

Without a second thought, you handed her the screwdriver only taking a moment longer to register what she said after.

By now, you felt less embarrassed by Ellie catching you staring since she obviously enjoyed it. “The view? The view is nice.”

“Just nice?”

“The view is really nice. Amazing, even. It’s a nice area, I might even move here.”

Ellie huffed out the faintest chuckle. “Are we talking about the same thing?”

“We are, don’t worry.”

“Feel free to admire all you want then.” You could tell she was smiling as she said that despite barely being able to see her face.

The light banter you guys shared gave you twinkles all over your body. You wondered where this all might lead to. Perhaps nothing at all, or, as you hoped for, her number at least.

Ellie tosses the screwdriver to your side with a low hum before holding her hand out. “Pass me the torque, please?”

You reached into the toolbox, staring dumbly at the items. It seems you might’ve really needed the walk through after all. Along that tutorial you failed to learn what the hell a torque could be. “Let me try to find it...”

You looked through some more, trying to see what method could help you single out this torque. Meanwhile, Ellie rolled from underneath the car and sat on the creeper, rolling forward and towards you. You were so caught up in Ellie’s request, you failed to notice her presence.

When you finally chose a tool, Ellie’s hand happened to land onto yours. You and Ellie shot each other surprised glances and Ellie eased the tension with a subtle smile. She pulled her hand away, but not fully nor quickly. Not quickly at all.

In fact, she lingered like she wanted you to remember how her fingertips felt; slowly sliding her digits up the back of your hand. Just like that, everything felt like it was in slowmo. Everything but your heart, which was beating faster by the second. You knew you had to pull yourself together quickly. This moment could potentially make or break something.

“I found it.” You spoke out so lightly it could be mistaken for a whisper, peering your eyes into Ellie’s green pair. You didn’t have any expectations for what would happen next, but you were practically shaking from anticipation.

“Took you long enough. Do we need to go over it again?” Ellie responded just as low as you spoke. The husk and tease around her words made you clench around nothing, embarrassingly so.

You didn’t let that stop you, however, letting yourself indulge in her teasing for your own guilty pleasure. “Maybe… What’s this again? A hammer?”

Ellie grinned at your faux naïveté, her head cocking to the side. “I know you’re smarter than that.”

“I just need a quick reminder.” You grinned back as you spoke.

“That’s not what you really want though, is it?” Ellie’s smile faded into a less prominent, yet more seductive one.

You could swear up and down her eyes flickered down to your lips a couple times, so you naturally started leaning towards her.

What you failed to realize was that Ellie had already started to lean towards you. She dropped off the creeper, decreasing the distance between you two dramatically. She leaned herself against her hands and spread her legs, leaving you kneeled between them. There were no coherent thoughts in your mind, but you finally had an expectation and that was Ellie’s lips on yours.

Your lips collided and your eyes fluttered shut. You instantly dropped the torque back in the box and stiffened a bit, not sure if this was really happening or not. However, whether it was real or not, you wanted to do a good job.

The kiss started off slow, testing the waters. Ellie’s smooth, gentle lips made you feel tipsy along with that smell you loved blocking your senses. You were completely intoxicated.

Ellie slid her palm on your hip and gradually roamed the small of your back. The sudden touch shot electricity through your body. She was balancing herself on one hand now, but she attentively stayed on your lips. You couldn’t stop the greed for more rushing through your core even if you wanted to. You placed your hand on the nape of her neck, desperately bringing her in to deepen the kiss.

You could feel the grin etched into her lips and it only drove you further. She obliged to your wishes and parted your lips against hers with minimal effort, easily intruding the tip of her tongue between. Your tongues slid and ran across each other sensually, and the messiness of it all had you sopping where you knelt. Too lost in the moment, you accidentally let a low moan escape. If Ellie couldn’t tell how needy you were, she could tell now.

She slowly broke away from your lips, and it left you both panting heavily. Your face, confused, and hers, studying. Did you turn her off? Did you do too much when she was probably expecting something less? You tried to avoid her eyes, too disappointed with yourself to look.

Ellie didn’t let the eye-contact break, following your eyes with a worried expression. “Hey, hey... It’s alright. You’re not in trouble.” Ellie said, letting out a cruel laugh at the end.

You frowned at the teasing this time and your embarrassment was even more evident.

Ellie took your expression in consideration as she leaned in to peck the corner of your lips. The gesture eased your worries, but you were unsure of how this would turn out. She gave you a brief smile before finally saying, “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

You nodded your head slowly and Ellie frowned at it. “I need words.” She said, more sternly than you’d expect.

She was quick to get a few words out of you. “I… I want this.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” She replied, leaning in to connect lips with yours again. You didn’t realize how much you missed that contact until you felt chills run through your body.

You missed her lips on yours despite only kissing for so long. The hand Ellie had placed on your back drifted lower and grasped your ass, earning a moan from you, which Ellie took great pleasure in hearing and feeling.

By now, your knees were starting to hurt, and it took a lot of restraints not to topple over Ellie. However, you refused to move your lips from hers, you just got them back.

Unfortunately, Ellie must’ve noticed your stubborn shuffling since she pulled away despite your muffled protests.

“Let’s move somewhere more comfortable.”

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Ellie cracked open the door for you to a small lounge space and placed a quick apologetic kiss on your lips before walking off. She had noticed her handprint smudged on your shorts on the way to the lounge and it reminded her that she had to wash the car grime off before doing anything more with you. At this point you were so pent up you probably wouldn’t mind. You decided not to dwell on what risks you’re willing to take to fuck Ellie and sat yourself on a brown couch that felt a lot comfier than it looked. The vibe of the room was similar to Ellie’s car minus the smell of weed. Speaking of smells, it smelled just like her.

Thoughts of Ellie panting and briefly taking your lips between her teeth flashed through your mind. The vividness, considering it just happened, made the heat between your legs increase. You instinctively pressed your thighs together and fought the urge to take care of yourself right there and then.

Thankfully, Ellie strolled into the lounge and shut the door behind her, and it finished with a lock click. Your eyes met as she strolled towards you, plopping on the couch next to you.

Ellie opened her mouth to say something, but you didn’t want to hear it. Not right now. You cupped her face and pressed your lips into hers and you shut her up instantly. She leaned over you, pressing you back into the couch. Amidst the smacking and passion of your mouths against each other’s, Ellie’s hand drifted up your waist; thumbing along your skin. Everything was so hot and cloudy now; you couldn’t think about anything other than how good you feel.

At some point, Ellie’s leg was kneeled, and her thigh was wedged between your legs. You only became aware of the new positioning after accidentally pressing yourself against her. You were laid down on the couch, completely dazed with Ellie hovering over you. She noticed you coming back to reality and grinned smugly as she moved her hand underneath your top and groped at your breast. You arched into her touch, keening, and Ellie rewarded the sound by rubbing her thigh against your clothed clit.

You gasped sharply and the brief friction had you bucking for more. Your barely audible pleas must’ve triggered something in Ellie as she bent down to kiss you, taking your lips between her teeth. The feeling is even better than you remembered.

The intensity of the kiss is wet, hot, and you can’t remember when you last took a breath. You placed your arms over Ellie’s shoulders and lightly ran your fingertips along her back, rolling your hips into Ellie’s thigh. You were so close, so close until.. you suddenly lost contact. Ellie moved her right hand to your hip, gently pinning you down so you couldn’t move as she placed her thigh out of reach.

She has pulled away from you too often and you weren’t going to back down quietly this time. You broke off from her kiss-swollen lips, rather reluctantly, and begged. “Ellie! Please… just—”

Ellie shushed you and whispered directly into your ear, her breath hitting your cheek and sending shivers down your spine. “I’m gonna fuck you myself. Be patient.”

You weren’t gonna argue. You wanted that. You wanted her. Ellie moved her hand from your hips and went to loosen the button of your shorts. She moved her legs so that yours were fully between hers. You unwrapped your arms from her shoulders and helped her tug your shorts down urgently, lifting your hips to speed the process.

Ellie positioned herself so she could tuck your knees in. She parted your legs and leaned back, taking a moment to appreciate how wet you were for her; your slick heat coating your underwear, glistening, all for her to see. It would’ve embarrassed you in any other instance, but you were so filled with lust, none of it mattered.

She pressed her thumb against your clit, through your undoubtedly soaked panties and peered down at your face: brows furrowed and brimming with want. Ellie wasn’t gonna make you wait any longer. She moved the fabric out of the way and finally rubbed your bare clit with the pad of her thumb. You panted heavily, moving into her touch.

Ellie leaned towards you, turning her wrist clockwise and dipping her fingers between your folds, rubbing your labia between her middle and ring digits. You groaned out and quickly pulled up your top and tugged your bra underneath your tits so you could grasp at the sensitive area.

Your wetness coated Ellie’s fingers perfectly and it was only a matter of time before she fucked you with them senselessly. She coaxed your clit between her fingers, and although you were too wet for much friction, the pressure was just enough to get you there.

You fondled and squeezed at your chest, pinching at your nipples as your eyes clenched shut; concentrating on that release you needed so badly. Ellie was practically salivating at the sight, still hunched over you and getting off from the look of you alone.

Your much anticipated orgasm rolled through you, crashing in like a wave. You moaned loudly, arching your back and rolling your hips forward.

Ellie slowed down and helped you ride out your orgasm before suddenly slipping both fingers into your entrance. The sudden intrusion made you whine, and Ellie dipped down and pressed a kiss on your cheek. Your eyes were brimming with tears, but you needed her to move. You needed her to fuck you badly.

You squirmed under Ellie and she placed her free hand on the cheek she kissed, thumbing along it as she cooed at you teasingly. “Shhh.. You’re gonna ruin the makeup you fixed just for me.”

Ellie’s thumb creeped towards your swollen and gloss-less bottom lip, the aftermath of rough, sloppy kissing. You mouthed out a ‘whoops’ and faked a pout.

Ellie laughed as she gazed down at you. The sight of her flushed red, freckled cheeks smiling down at you only made you want her more. Ellie felt your need squeeze against her fingers, and she made sure that you knew she knew by glancing down at her fingers filling your cunt. She bit her bottom lip and decided to give you what you wanted, slowly pumping her fingers in you.

You keened colorfully, raising your tucked knees and wrapping your legs around Ellie’s waist. You needed her deep. She picked up her pace and curled her fingers, hitting that soft wall. She was doing everything right, there was no doubt in your mind she was an angel, a sexually experienced one at that. You pulled her down, meeting her halfway so you crash your lips into hers.

Ellie moaned over your lips and, god, you were so close. She slid a third finger in you, pumping and curling her fingers; knuckles deep. You were so close you were seeing stars, it made you think back on the little conversation you two had in the car and you wondered if this is what she meant. Then just like that they fucking connected.

You cried out as you came, tightening your legs around Ellie’s waist as you gushed over her fingers. She kept her fingers in you until you finished. Once Ellie pulled out, you groaned from the loss and she muttered out an apology.

You gave her one lingering kiss before plopping back down. You were utterly exhausted and aching. Aching... pleasantly, but that wasn’t the point. Your mind slowly started recollecting everything that happened. You were just fucked by a hot stranger you met in a town you still don’t know the name of. You’re not sure you would’ve remembered after this anyways.

“Usually I would help clean up, but...” Ellie gestured around her. You almost forgot you guys were at the back of a mechanic’s garage.

You snickered and nodded understandingly. “Right. I know.”

You two stared at each other awkwardly despite what occurred not even five minutes ago. Ellie ruffled with her hair before speaking out, “So… Can I take you out sometime? When your trip is over?”

You pushed up so you were at eye-level with her. “I... I think we’re past that, but yes. Yes, you can.” You leaned in for a kiss and she returned it with a grin.

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click 4 bonus!

#ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #the last of us part 2 #ellie smut #tlou2

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lorelaiblair · 16 days

Text

about Morticia Addams

she is the perfect Addams

dark, gloomy, in love with all of the darker things in life.

she raises man eating plants and cuts the heads off of her dolls.

but she married into the family, she was originally a Frump.

she didn’t change who she was to become an Addams, she didn’t leave her family behind because they didn’t understand her or her love.

she wasn’t the black sheep of the family, no, the Frumps are strange and unusual too.

the Frumps are witches, the Frumps are dark and kooky.

the Frumps adore the Addamses and the Addamses adore the Frumps. Gomez and Morticia fit together like they were always meant to be. like the two families were always meant to be one.

this is though is the exact opposite for Enid and Wednesday.

Enid is a Sinclair.

the Sinclairs do not fit in with the Addamses or Frumps. they are hateful, they are cruel, they are biased, they are stuck in their ways.

Esther is bossy and mean, Murray is quiet and submissive.

these things do not fit in the Addams family. (not for the lack of trying, because the Addams truly tried to make peace for Enid’s sake. they eventually realized that the girl was much happier far away from the family that she was born into. they made sure to shower her with love. they made sure to show Enid that she would always have a supporting family in them)

Enid isn’t the black sheep of the sinclair family but instead the pink one.

Enid’s family never appreciated her because of her incapability to turn into a monster. Enid paints her claws vibrant colors, she straightens and dyes her hair, she adores k-pop.

she dances like nobody is watching, she sings her heart out, she cries over silly youtube videos and the one commercial about the deaf boy feeling the vibration of a waterfall.

Enid Sinclair is full of personality, full of feeling and love, she was never understood by her family. always seen as too loud, too sensitive, not a good enough werewolf.

Enid’s family threatened to send her to a conversion camp because she is so different from them.

she’s different from the Addamses too. she doesn’t find enjoyment in all of the things the Addamses do, she doesn’t wear black or want to dye her hair.

they don’t understand her emotions, they don’t understand her love for color.

but, god, do they absolutely love her.

she is the pink sheep of the Addams family too. they adore her, exactly the way that she is.

she is weird to them. she is strange and kooky.

they cannot get enough.

weird, strange, kooky, it is everything that makes an Addams.

they see her for her pastel clothing, her bright eyes, her loud dancing and strange idioms, they are changed by her for the better.

they take her light and let it bathe them, like dragons to the sun.

Enid is a breath of fresh air in their dusty home, there was nothing wrong with the dust but the fresh air is so nice to have.

they are all just as strange as Enid herself is, it is in different ways but they all love and respect that.

Enid is not a Frump, and she isn’t yet an official Addams, but she fits perfectly.

she has a family in them. she always will.

and one day, when she officially takes the name, it feels like she was never anything else.

Wednesday kisses her wrist and and calls her “miss Addams”, Enid swoons. Enid will never get tired of hearing that, especially from the lips of the woman she loves and the family that took her in so easily.

she’s where she was always meant to be.

the Addamses have a pastel werewolf, a piece of the puzzle that they didn’t know was missing, the piece that brings the whole masterpiece together.

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oneforthemunny · 3 months

Text

have i the right? |yandere!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: ever since you started working at turtle's tapes, you and eddie have grown closer and closer until he finally asks you out. it feels like the pieces of your life are finally falling into place, things are going right for once- but things are not always what they seem.

contains: minors dni 18+. dark fic. dark!eddie. yandere!eddie. dark tones of the fic. stalking, obsession, breaking and entering, mentions of past violence, mentions of past trauma and relationships. masturbation.

Twelve days.

Twelve days since you walked in. Eddie didn’t know what divine intervention had stepped in, decided to shine down on him and bring you into Turtle’s Tapes, a resume in hand, asking for Mel.

You had been so jittery, fingers drumming on the strap of your leather shoulder bag. Red nails, freshly painted, Eddie could tell by the smudges around the edges you hadn’t bothered to clean up. He didn’t point it out, couldn’t even if he wanted to. Tongue too thick, breath caught and suffocating in his throat, wrapped around the words he wasn’t even sure he’d form yet.

He managed to point you to the back office, croak out the words he couldn’t even remember, hoping his cheeks didn’t reveal the flush of heat thrumming through his body when you smiled at him, waving when you walked away.

“You’re working again?”

A giggly voice had Eddie turning, spine straightening, shoulders rolling back when he turned from the stack of records he was sorting.

You had your hair up today, pulled back so he could see your face fully, more features for him to memorize.

“Yeah,” Eddie snorted, chin ducking to his chest, a waterfall of curls hiding the pink of his cheeks. “Brenda called out of another shift.” The eye roll he added made you giggle.

“Again? Why do they even keep her around?” You muttered, grabbing a stack of records out of the shipment box, handing the top one- Out of Time- over to Eddie. Your nails were starting to chip now, around the edges, flaked red polish.

“Well, she-she’s not bad. Pretty good on the register.” Eddie grabbed the record, sucking in a breath to calm the excited tremble in his hands.

“Right.” You frowned, lips puckering out the way they did when you were thinking. Eddie noticed it on your first day of training, when he was explaining how to stack the eight tracks, an adorable tick he found himself thinking about at night, staring at his ceiling replaying every word you’d said.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to be bitchy.” You shook your head lightly. “I was- I mean, you’re always taking her shifts. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, no,” Eddie’s grip tightened on the record, the plastic wrapping crinkling under his touch. “I know you weren’t.”

Stupid, stupid, Eddie cursed himself, watching your face fall. The bell trilled, pulling your attention to greet the customer with a cheery tone. You were still new, still eager to impress and help, not weathered and worn from customer service like Eddie. He was thankful for it, truthfully.

Eddie liked watching you work, liked watching you in general. When he could cut his eyes, stare shamelessly like he used to in freshman year algebra, watching Stacy Simmons from the back corner of the class.

You were better than Stacy Simmons. Prettier. Definitely nicer. Stacy never even looked at Eddie, he wasn’t even sure she knew he existed, even when he sent her the candy-gram on Valentine’s Day.

He wondered what kind of candy you liked, what it would have been like to go to high school with you. If you would have acknowledged him, maybe even been friends with him? Gone to prom, wore a corsage he pinned on with his Judas Priest button.

“Were you a cheerleader in high school?” Eddie asked when you finally migrated back over to him, stocking on the other side of the stacks.

“What?” Your nose crinkled lightly, lips curling in a tiny smile. “A cheerleader?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s heart hammered, chest burning with regret, embarrassment. What a stupid fuckin’ question, Munson, why would you ask that?

“No.” You giggled, shaking your head. “Do I look like I was a cheerleader?” You snorted lightly, brow raising playfully.

Eddie wanted to tell you, you looked like the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, prettier than a cheerleader, than an angel.

Instead, he thumbed through the stacks, pretending to look for a record, a desperate attempt to play it cool. “Kinda.” He shrugged. “Not in a bad way, you’re just… you get really peppy when you’re helping people.”

“Peppy?” You laughed.

“Yeah.” Eddie smirked. “I mean, your voice raises.”

“Wow.” You shook your head, lips rolling, biting back a smirk. “I didn’t even realize I did that. I guess I do.”

Eddie’s stomach turned, a violent, sharp jab when your smile dropped slightly. Munson, don’t ever speak again. What the fuck is wrong with you today? Get it together.

“It’s not a bad thing.” Eddie shook his head, sweaty palms gripping the stack of records. “You’re- The customers really like you.”

“Thanks.” You muttered. There was that silence, filling the space between you. Eddie loathed it, feared it, terrified that it would linger forever, that he might never hear the sound of your voice again because he drove you away.

“Do you close tonight?” You hummed, shuffling down to the next stack. Head still tilted down but eyes lifted to look at Eddie, lines creasing on your forehead that he’d never seen before. A new angle of you for him to preoccupy his thoughts with, play in his fantasies.

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded, swallowing down the growing lump in his throat, thumb twisting the ring around his middle finger. His stack was gone, finished, but he wouldn’t dare leave to get another. Not while you were talking, while he was in your attention.

Instead, he pretended to organize the names, shuffling the stacks. “Just us tonight.” His lips curled, dimples deep in a grin.

You smiled back, soft but bright, enough to make his heart flutter and take flight. “Fun.” You shrug sweetly. “That means we can change the music, right? I don’t think I can listen to Amy Grant on a loop again.”

“Yeah, definitely. As soon as Mel leaves we can.” Eddie swore he was in love, hoping you couldn’t see the blush in his cheeks. Every second he spent with you, time built his feelings, made them grow stronger and stronger.

“Play something actually good.” Eddie smiled. He’d been shuffling the same records back and forth, fiddling between his hands.

“I’m sure you will. You have great taste.” The compliment was so natural, so easy coming from you. Still, it made Eddie blister and burn at the praise, so sure his heart might swell and tear through his ribcage, splatter all over the aisles and on your t-shirt.

“The customers really like you too. Always come in and ask for your recommendations.” You added, filing in the last of your record stack.

“Yeah? Thanks, I mean,” Eddie took a breath, swallowing down a stutter, jumbling of words. “Thanks. Just trying to keep the kids cool, y’know? This grunge shit.” Eddie shook his head. “Sorry, I know you’re a fan. Nirvana’s not that bad.”

You laughed, shaking your head at him, an empty box cradled on your hip. “So I guess I can’t convince you to spin Nevermind tonight?” You batted your eyes at him sweetly, lip tucked between your teeth. Eddie’s knees tightened.

As soon as Mel left, Eddie was tearing open the album, shoving Heart in Motion back in its slip with far less care than he should have. Mel would bitch him out, bitch him for opening and playing a non-approved album on the store’s system. Eddie didn’t care, he’d buy the album in secret, give it to you maybe. Slip it in your locker with a note.

If your smile was anything like what you gave him when the opening chords to Smells Like Teen Spirit played through the speakers, he’d buy you a million of those fucking albums.

The hours were slow for a Thursday, especially with the new releases. Not that Eddie minded, he’d never complain about a lack of asshole highschool kids, demanding for cassettes and tapes.

“I think it’s because of the rain.” You tilted your head back, looking out the front window, painted and splattered with rain drops.

Eddie was convinced you could read his mind, sure you might be his soul mate, made just for him. “Yeah, I think so.” He nodded, wiping off the counter with a sudsy rag.

You sighed, heavy, pushing past your lips, puckering them in a perfect pout. Eddie’s tongue ran over his bottom lip, the soapy warm water seeping through his fingers.

“I was hoping it would hold over until I got off.” You admitted, shoulder’s falling, dragging the broom lazily around your dust piles. “I forgot an umbrella or a rain jacket.”

Eddie paused, a second longer than he should have, your attention moved to him. “You- Sorry, you walked?” Eddie shook his head lightly, curls bobbing, brushing against his cheeks.

“Yeah,” You muttered, looking down at the broom, pushing the piles of dirt around. “My car’s in the shop. They said it would be ready a week ago.”

Eddie’s fingers curled around the rag, water piling and pooling in the spot in front of him. He’d find where your car was, make them fix it, fix it himself if he had to.

Still, your rainy predicament gave him an opportunity he’d been looking for. Plotting and mulling over for the past twelve days.

“I can give you a ride.” Eddie shrugged, dragging the rag, stained with dirt from the years of use, over the glass, prismatic streaks on the glass from the cleaner.

“No,” You shook your head politely, sweeping the dirt pile into the dustpan. “I can’t ask you to do that. It’s fine, honestly, I live really close-”

“-C’mon.” Eddie rolled his eyes lightly. “It’s pouring and it’s dark. Shouldn’t walk alone at night, anyways. Lots of weirdos out.”

Your own heart skipped at his tone, thrilling and thrumming with excitement. “I mean, if it’s not a problem.” You hesitated. “I can give you some gas money-”

“-No, don’t.” Eddie said firmly, plopping the rag back in the bucket of water. “It’s not a problem, seriously. I don’t mind.”

Your lips curled, a shy smile. “Thank you.” You nodded. “I really appreciate it, Eddie.”

“It’s not a problem.” Eddie shrugged. “Besides, you’re not wearing the right shoes.” He nodded towards your white Keds, cloth on top, stained with dirt from your walk here. “Can’t let them get ruined.”

“They’re already ruined. Really dirty, I need to clean them.” You smirked, toes wiggling in your sneakers. “But thank you.”

“Hey, it’s no problem.” Eddie shrugged, trailing you when you crossed the store, bending over to brush up another pile of dirt. Your shirt rode up, jeans lowering just enough for Eddie’s breath to still entirely. The strings of your panties, high cut, a lavender shade peeking over the band of your denim, that had Eddie’s head spinning.

His face flushed, blood rushing straight to his crotch, shamelessly. A still soapy hand adjusted himself, turning so you wouldn’t see. Wouldn’t see how easily he was flustered, attracted to you. The last thing he needed to do was scare you off, fuck this all up again.

Like with Chrissy.

Eddie winced, teeth clenching at his own thoughts. No, he wouldn’t think about her. You weren’t anything like her. How dare he insult you like that, comparing you so lowly to her.

His eyes cut back to you, hips swaying while you swept to the beat of Lithium, head bobbing to the clash of the drums.

No, he knew better this time. He’d be more careful. He wouldn’t mess this up.

Eddie gave you his keys to the store, let you lock up while he took the trash, sprinting to his van. He shoved the cigarette buds in the plastic trash bag, smushing down the brown, grease soaked fast-food paper bags he’d carelessly tossed in his passenger side. He would’ve had his car detailed if he would have known he’d be giving you a ride.

“Ed?” Your voice carried around the corner.

“Back here!” Eddie called, jamming his keys into the van’s ignition, the engine sputtering to life before evening out into a steady roar. One leg out, Eddie stopped, sucking in a breath. He swiped the yellow scrunchie off his gear shift, shoving it in his pocket just as you turned the corner.

Eddie smiled, walking to the dumpster, flinging the bag in. “Sorry, just wanted to get the car started. It takes a while for it to warm up.”

He held the door open for you, bowing dramatically when you slipped in. You giggled at his antics, and his heart soared, fluttered with pride. Eddie slipped into the driver’s side, eyes scanning the console and back of the van nonchalantly when he backed out, making sure he hadn’t left anything lying about.

He was more careful after what happened before. More aware, double checking his steps, but the scrunchie had him on edge. It was close, too close for his comfort.

“Seriously, thank you.” You looked over at Eddie, the glow of the street lights cast a nearly angelic, golden luster over your features. “Saved me from getting sick.” You nodded towards the window, Eddie’s wipers creaking with every swipe over the glass.

“Can’t have that now.” Eddie smirked, looking over at you, throwing his blinker on. “Have to take your shifts too. Then I’ll really be overworked.”

You laughed, looking out the window, smile falling as Eddie cruised down the familiar street.

“But seriously, if you ever need me to take a shift for you, I don’t care to.” Eddie shrugged, eyes cutting over to yours. He didn’t see the way you’d stilled, hands wringing in your lap, spine rigid. “I was just kidding.”

You stayed silent, heart hammering, inching further and further up your throat. Eddie frowned, looking over at you. “You alright?”

Your wide eyed gaze met his, scared, startled. He saw flashes of Chrissy before him, merging into his vision. “What?” Eddie cringed. He didn’t mean to sound so fierce. “Are you alright?”

“How do you know where I live?” You asked, blinking at Eddie, eyes rounded. Your eyes cut to the road ahead, Eddie inching closer to your apartment complex.

His heart stopped, a pause that lingered a little bit longer than he meant it to. “You told me.” He blurted, a white knuckled grip on the wheel, turning back towards the road. “When you started, you told me you lived at Magnolia Place. My friend Jeff lives over there, remember?”

You had mentioned it, not to him, to Lindy. Eddie had overheard it, when he was lingering around, watching you from behind cassette stacks. You frowned, but your grip loosened, relaxing. Eddie held his breath, switching his hand casually, freeing his right hand- just in case.

“Oh,” You chirped, flushing with embarrassment, chin tucking towards your chest. “I-I’m sorry. I forgot about that.” You shook your head.

“It’s alright.” Eddie shrugged casually, his fingers loosening around the wheel.

“No, that was weird of me.” You shook your head, hands rubbing down your face. “I watch too much Dateline.” You laugh softly. “It’s always the single girl in an apartment alone, y’know?”

Eddie smirked. “Do I give off those creeper vibes?” His eyes cut to yours, longer than they should have, reading your reaction. “Bundy vibes or something?”

“No,” Your laugh made him relax, exhaling slowly. “I’m just- I don’t know. I need medicated. I get, like, super worried about things sometimes.” You looked down at your nails, picking at the chipping polish.

“No, that’s a good thing. Better to be careful.” Eddie nodded, turning into the apartment complex. “Ok, now I do need you to tell me which one. Left or right?”

“I’m in the very back right.” You pointed through the rainy window, drizzle still steady.

Eddie turned the wheel with his palm, slowing the van to a cruise through the parking lot. “Where does your friend live?”

“Hm?” Eddie hummed, brow furrowed, looking over at you.

“Your friend?” You pressed lightly. “You said he lives over here? Where, if you don’t mind me asking? I just… it would be nice to know someone just in case.”

Eddie craned his head, heart thrumming in his chest rapidly. “He lives right there.” Eddie pointed, finger pressed to the window. “On the left side.”

You nodded slowly, leaning forward, close enough that Eddie could smell your perfume. His head spinning, stilling entirely, scared to move and have you inch away.

“But if you ever need anything,” Eddie followed your muttering of directions. “You can just call me. I don’t live too far.”

“That’s sweet,” You smiled softly, turning so you were inches away from Eddie’s face. He hoped you couldn’t feel the heat radiating off his cheeks. “I don’t want to bother you, though.”

“You’re not.” Eddie shook his head. “I promise. I’ll let you know if you bother me.”

“Yeah?” You laughed, Eddie could feel your breath on his curls.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Eddie nodded, sliding into a parking space easily. “You’ll know.”

You smiled, and for a moment, Eddie contemplated leaning forward, grabbing your face with his hands and kissing you. You moved before he could, unfastening your seat belt instead. Eddie tried to hide his huff of disappointment.

Too slow, Munson, you’re always too fucking slow.

“Well, thank you, again.” You reached for your purse, slipping your arm through the leather strap. “I really appreciate it.”

“Any time.” Eddie’s fingers drummed on his denim clad thigh, desperately racking his brain for anything, anything to get you to stay. Even just for a second longer.

“Enjoy your day off.” You smiled, the streetlights above you catching in your eyes. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks.” Eddie gave a tight lipped smile, heart jumping when your fingers cradled around the door handle. “Wait-” Eddie’s voice was sharper than he meant, your head whipping around towards him.

“Sorry,” Eddie blushed. “I just- You don’t close tomorrow, right?” Eddie asked, foot shaking by the brakes, the rumble of the engine vibrating the soles of his shoes.

“No, I’m an opener. I get off that four.” You smiled proudly.

“Oh, well, I was thinking if, um,” Get it the fuck together, Munson. “If you’re not busy tomorrow after work, I- we could go to The Hideout?”

You blinked. “I mean, I know we talked about it, and you said you’d never been. I’m not playing tomorrow, but I-I know the band that is. We could go and listen to the music, or just go and hang out. It’s really fun, really chill.” Eddie rambled. Chill? Who says chill?

“If you want to.” Eddie blurted before you could reply. “I-I know you probably have plans, or something better to do-”

“-No,” You shook your head, a smile spreading over your features, beaming as bright as the streetlamp about the two of you. “I mean, yes I want to go. No, I’m not busy.” You gave him a small, breathy laugh.

“That sounds like fun.” Eddie was convinced it was a dream, the entire interaction. You in his van, agreeing to go out with him. His luck was finally changing, falling into place.

“Yeah?” Eddie’s eyes were bright. “Yeah, I-I mean it will be. I promise.” His foot still shook. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Yeah, that-that would be nice.” You beamed, heart fluttering with butterflies, tingling with excitement.

“I can get you at seven? We can get there kinda early and get a good seat by the front if you want.” Eddie couldn’t help his smile, couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to.

“Sounds good.” You smiled. There was a pause, and you weren’t sure why, what came over you when you leaned forward, lips pressing in a soft peck to Eddie’s cheek, soft over the crease of his dimples.

Eddie flushed, body burning, flaming with heat, he knew he wasn’t hiding. You grinned, a small giggle, bubbly like the two of you were in junior high, kissing behind the bleachers.

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow.” You grinned, opening the door. Eddie nodded, eyes still wide, lovesick or maybe lovestruck- he couldn’t decide.

“Thank you again!” You squeaked, shutting the door, scampering to your door. You turned, waving at him before pushing the door open, slipping inside.

Eddie sat, in a daze, head foggy, blinded with a rush of emotions. He could feel your lips on his cheek, a light tingling imprinted onto his skin.

He’d nearly ruined it, fucked it all up before it even began. He wouldn’t let that happen, couldn’t be careless like before.

Eddie pulled out of the parking spot, the light from your bedroom catching his eye in the rearview as it flickered on, blinds wide open. For someone who watches so much Dateline, you should know better.

Eddie’s stomach turned, foot pressing into the gas, halting in front of another complex. Eddie turned, adjusting the rear view mirror so he could see you. Maybe you hadn’t left it open. His mind swam, flooded with fear. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened.

Just a quick check. Make sure she’s alright, and then leave. It won’t be like last time.

Eddie let the van roll to a stop, cutting the headlights before killing the ignition. A steady stream of rain drummed on the roof of the van, melodic and calming. Eddie reached in his pocket, holding your yellow scrunchie. The thing that had nearly blown his whole plan. He swiped it from your locker four days ago, held it close to his nose that night, hand wrapped around his shaft, eyes fluttering closed, breathing in your scent and imagining what it would be like if you were there instead.

Eddie closed his fist around the silk, tucking it back in his pocket, reaching for his leather jacket, thrown over the back seat. An old Yankees cap, navy and worn in the floor of the van’s trunk. Eddie slipped the cap over his curls, pulling the brim low, zipping his jacket up.

Hands in his pocket, Eddie scanned around him. Nobody out to see him, catch him like last time and stop him. He wouldn’t let them even if they tried. Not this time.

The rain beat off Eddie’s shoulders, repelling off the leather of his jacket, wetting the ends of his curls. A final look over his shoulder, and Eddie was slinking back towards the wet brick of the opposite unit. Shuffled side steps, creeping closer and closer into the dark, angling himself to see your window.

He stilled, pressed fully to the brick, when your figure fluttered out of the corner of the window. Eddie watched the steam roll, following you out of the bathroom in a cloud, a towel wrapped around you, another in your hair. Toothbrush lazily scrubbing inside your mouth, flicking on the TV in your room.

She’s safe, now leave. Leave. Eddie’s mind screamed, but his feet were cemented in place. Hidden in the dark shadows, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, the light luring him though he stayed still.

You disappeared, Eddie watched you in the large mirror above your vanity.

Now, go now. Before she sees you. She’s going to see you.

The pounding in Eddie’s ears roared over the falling rain, deafening. Still, he stayed. Frozen in fear, maybe instinct.

When you returned, dropping your towel, kicking it to the corner of the room, Eddie was glad he stayed. Eyes wide, willing himself not to blink. He didn’t want to miss a second, not a single one. Your bare figure, better than his own imagination could curate. Soft edges and curves that Eddie couldn’t wait to feel. How jealous he was of your hands, smoothing the Avon body lotion over your shins, up your thighs.

What he would do to be the one doing that instead, his mind fading, slipping into his imagination. Inside your bedroom, instead of out, pressing soft kisses to your freshly lotioned shoulders, nose trailing along your soft skin. He wondered how you’d feel in his arms, letting yourself relax in his touch.

Eddie’s fantasies were halted when you moved to the vanity, snapping back to his cruel reality, a jolt of icy cold fear dumped into his veins. He could see himself in your mirror, the very corner. You bent down, picking up your comb and he took his chance, stepping back, hidden from your gaze, only a sliver of you to be seen, when you’d tilt your head a certain way to blow dry your hair.

Eddie stood, cold puffs of air clouding around his nose, clutching the switchblade in his jacket pocket every time he heard the smallest rustle. Ready to attack, to do anything he could to keep from being caught. He couldn’t ruin this, lose you before he ever truly got you. He was so close, so close.

Your light didn’t turn off, the same warm glow spilled out from your window, rain beating against the glass. Eddie’s feet ached, heart rate stroke level high. “Shit, shit, shit.” Eddie muttered, carefully stepping back towards the window.

You were no longer at the vanity, instead on your stomach, painting your nails at the end of the bed. Not red, from what Eddie could see- black. His lips curled. He liked to think you were doing this for him, for tomorrow, to match his dark and moody attire.

Eddie army crawled under your window, holding his breath when he passed under your window sill. He could hear the muffled sound of the TV- Dateline. You really should know better. Eddie would make sure to tell you that when he finally got inside, make sure to put in blinds and curtains for you.

His jaw flexed at the thought of someone trying to hurt you, someone else watching you. Watching you to harm you, not keep you safe like Eddie. The thought nearly had him staying in his van, parking closer and keeping watch through the night. He decided against it, the risk of nodding off and you seeing him there stronger than his want to stay.

Instead, Eddie pulled out of the parking lot, watching your window in the rearview mirror of his van as he drove away.

“Morning.” You sang, a skip in your step that you couldn’t hide, punching your card with glee, putting it in the assigned pocket.

“Good mornin’ to you, Sunshine.” Brenda grinned, brows raised at your cheery demeanor, running the price gun over the new cassettes. “What’s got you so happy on a Friday morning?” She snorted lightly.

“Mm, nothing.” You hummed, twisting the metal lock around. You were getting better at it, thanks to Eddie. He’d helped you the first few times. Tricky things, he’d told you with a half smile.

“Nothing?” Brenda sang, a playful mocking tone that had you blistering in heat. “You’re just that excited to stock tapes all day? That’s it?”

“Yeah.” You snorted lightly, pulling the lock open, wrangling it out of the metal hold of your locker. “No, I…” You spun the lock in your hand. “I’m going on a date tonight.”

“Oh?” Brenda’s brows raised.

You nodded. “Yeah. With, uh, with Eddie, actually.” Your heart fluttering in your chest, bubbly and excited.

“Oh, really?” Brenda laughed, putting her hands on her hip, pricing gun still in head. “Well, that makes more sense then.”

You frowned. “What?”

Brenda shook her head, kicking the box lightly with her foot. “That boy,” She snorted lightly. “He called my phone night before last, all crazy, I thought he’s been hurt or somethin’. Askin’ me to switch shifts with him last night.”

You paused, stilling. “H-He did?” You squeaked, hand closing around the lock tightly.

“Yeah,” Brenda smiled. “I mean, I was a little confused why he’d want to work a closing over an open, ‘specially with all the shifts he’s been picking up. But I thought, hey, none of my business. Maybe he needs the money.” She held her hands up playfully. “This makes me feel better, though.”

You twisted the lock nervously in your hands. “It does?”

“Yeah.” Brenda looked at you. “He just likes you. Wanted to take you out. Probably scared I’d tell you or somethin’, you know how he is.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “He gets a little paranoid about things. Dramatic, that one.”

Your stomach turned, sharp and twisting. “But-But Eddie, he wouldn’t, like, he’s a good guy?” You asked. “I mean, he seems like a good guy, but you-you know him better than I do.”

“I’ve known Ed since he was a little boy.” Brenda waved you off, her flippant tone made you feel better somehow. “I used to date his uncle, actually. Wayne started taking care of Eddie when we were together. He was wild, I’ll tell ya. But the sweetest kid. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Right.” You nodded, swallowing down your nerves. “Right, I- I’m just not from here, ya know? I get kinda…” You waved your hands, slinging your purse in your locker. “I also get paranoid.”

“A good match then.” Brenda grinned. “You’ll have fun with him. If he doesn’t treat you right, you let me know. I’ll tell his uncle and he’ll handle him, alright?” Her eyes shone in a playful way, comforting. Soothing your nerves with a warm smile.

You were anxious, and why wouldn’t you be? You hadn’t been out on a date since you moved to Hawkins.

Since you left your hometown.

Since you left him.

You swallowed, shaking it from your mind. You wouldn’t let him ruin this for you, wouldn’t let your mind consume itself. Eddie’s locker was just above yours, a plethora of stickers- Metallica, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, and so many more all collaged together. Some peeling, overlapping and covering the others. Right in the middle, a bright, smiley face sticker. You’d given it to him last week, the grocer at Melvald’s snuck one in your bag.

“I brought it for your sticker collection.” You had grinned at Eddie, waving the yellow sticker around playfully. You hadn’t expected him to put it right in the middle of his collaged locker.

It was sweet. A simple, sweet, silly gesture that had you giggly and blushy for the rest of your shift.

You pinned your badge to the inside of your shirt, letting the metal back snap into your soft cotton, pushing out the back doors and towards the register, letting your mind drift into daydreams about tonight. About Eddie, while you straightened the tapes on the front table.

A ringed hand gripping the plastic cup, warm from the coffee inside, Eddie sipped slowly, eyes trained on the corner. He waited, parked and hidden behind the row of bushes in front of McDonald’s, hoping it would camouflage his van enough.

His breath hitched, strangling the liquid in his throat when a figure rounded the corner. Your hair was down today, freshly styled, and you had gone without your white Keds. Eddie’s heart bubbled, fluttered to life with a soaring warmth. Your nails were painted black, he could see it as you got closer on the sidewalk, shrinking in his seat, peering just over the steering wheel to track you until you got to the store.

When you slipped into the door, safely inside Turtle’s, Eddie geared into reverse. Van rolling steady back towards Magnolia Place.

“It’s always the single girl in an apartment alone, y’know?”

Your voice rang in his head, a rhythmic melody that lured him into a trance, tunnel visioned all the way back to your apartment doorstep. The flathead screwdriver and allen wrench heavy in his pocket, clammy palms wrapped around them.

As much as he hated his father, cursed and blamed him for the way he was, every hardship he’d endured, he did have to thank him for making him resilient. Al had passed on more than just his wild curls to Eddie. He’d given him his resourcefulness, taught him. Eddie thanked Al, wherever he was, when the door clicked open.

Your apartment smells exactly like how he thought, looked exactly how he imagined. A hodgepodge of second hand furniture, throw pillows and blankets neatly folded and placed on the patterned couch. Your shoes kicked in a pile by the door, your white Keds amongst them.

Eddie crouched down, cradling the shoe in his hand. The small speck of dirt splattered on the sides from your walk to work yesterday, an imprint of your foot molded into the sole.

Eddie let himself wander around the small space- your space. He hoped he’d be back tonight, invited in this time, but in case he didn’t, he just needed a look. To see the full thing, to see how you lived, feel closer to you any way he can. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to know everything about you, every single thing.

Your perfume taunted him from the vanity, clouded his mind the very same way it did when he smelled it on you, catching whiffs when you’d walk past. Eddie drenched the edge of his band tee, saturated it in your perfume. For later, when his mind would wander back to you, when he’d miss you, when he’d long to smell you.

Stacks of photos lined the vanity, a man and woman donning similar features to your own. Even when you were younger, you always had the same smile, bright and warm. Your towel still kicked in the corner of the room from the night before, bed sheets crumpled from sleep. Eddie’s hand slid across the crinkled cotton, he hoped they’d still be warm.

Next to your sink, a bottle of purple acetone, red soaked cotton pads in the trash. A small tray of nail polishes next to that, pushed into the corner, every color imaginable- including the red. The same red you wore when Eddie met you. That you kept painting over for the following days until you finally gave up, let it chip away.

His mind screamed, roared at him not to. That you would know.

I’ll give it back. I’ll give it back when she invites me over. She’ll never know.

Eddie plucked the Revlon bottle out of the group, pushing the others back into place, pocketing it.

Ok, that’s enough. Enough. You’re gonna get caught. It’s going to be Chrissy- No, no, don’t fucking even compare her to that sick-

Eddie’s mind spiraled, pulling deeper and deeper into himself, a white knuckled grip on the counter, eyes crossing in a hazy daze, foggy and distorted. A familiar buzz ringing through his ears, a roar of static, heart hammering so fast he was sure it wasn’t beating at all. Flashes of memories he’d tried to forget, beat his head against a wall and knock them out, unforgiving and rapid.

A sliver of purple peeking out of your wickered hamper halted those hauntings just as quickly as they’d begun. Carelessly thrown on top, Eddie’s vision honing in through the mirror. The same lavender thong that had teased him the night before, consumed his thoughts later that night, hand pumping his cock, free hand holding your scrunchie to his nose, eyes screwed shut picturing- wishing it was you instead.

I’ll bring it back. With the nail polish, she’ll never know.

Eddie was nearly in a trance like state, swiping the panties off the top of the towels, shoving them in his pocket. He couldn’t- not here. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to contain himself.

Instead, Eddie waited until he was back home, in the sanctuary of his trailer. Pulling the old, metal lunchbox off the top shelf of his closet, he sunk into the mattress. A treasure chest, filled with all his favorite things. All his memories of you.

The scrunchie, a note you’d written him about an order signed with a heart before your name, your application he’d swiped off Mel’s desk after you got the job. It was small, smaller than Eddie would have liked but it was safer this way. The nail polish he tucked away, but the panties he kept out.

Reaching for the Jergens by his bed, Eddie freed his length from his boxers, settling back against the headboard. Tail of his shirt tucked by his chin, the overwhelming scent of your perfume wafting up to him, dizzying his senses. Eddie sighed, free hand tugging at his shaft, relaxing into the pillows.

He could see you, a fantasy that challenged his perception of reality, riding him soft and slow. Would you like it like that? Harder? Rougher? Sweeter? Him on top? Eddie’s mind flurried with worry, what if’s, pleasure simmering out slowly.

Eddie blinked, a heavy lidded gaze landing on the panties in his hand. You flooded back to his mind, picturing you in your little panties, shy and bare before him. He swallowed down a groan, pushing the crotch of your panties to his nose. A pungent, spicy scent, swarming with something so intoxicating. Eddie whimpered, pushing the lavender panties further under his nose, suffocating himself nearly, but he didn’t mind.

He hoped to have you in a different way, to experience you authentically later tonight. Even just to kiss you again, feel you again, his body ached for it. But for now, Eddie would suffice having you this way, his own little secret, a dark and twisted fantasy just for him.

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forever--darling · 1 year

Text

iknimaya | neteyam x avatar!reader

summary: half a year later and it was finally time for you to make the trip to the hallelujah mountains and claim your ikran. one step closer to completing your training, you can't help but think about the future - specifically your future with neteyam. it's hard to get anywhere though with lo'ak trying to make plans of his own.

pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader

word count: 10.9k

warnings/notes: swearing, less enemies but not quite lovers, still very slow burn, a lot more angst to come -- fair warning, lo'ak x avatar!reader (one-sided), mutual secret pining, ikran flying, fluff

series masterlist | one of us: part four | requests are currently open for now

When a person becomes one of the people, or in other words, when they are born twice, the clan puts on a ceremony for them. It consists of dancing, feasting, and telling stories to one another — it’s all about connection. A connection between the people, their culture, and the new person who has become one of them. Kiri had been telling you about it nonstop, trying to install some confidence in you.

You would be covered in paint and stand before the clan asking them for their acceptance. The Olo’eyktan would approach you and in his eyes from Eywa, you would either be accepted or denied. If he accepts you, he will place his hands upon your shoulders, above your heart, and in turn, the rest of the clan would follow until they form a large circle around you. Interconnected as one, before Ewya. It’s there where you’d earn your place among the people, forever.

That isn’t the final test that decides your place among the Omatikaya, but only the ceremony. The final test is the hardest thing asked of a person; a journey, filled with an act fueled by the need to prove oneself. A journey into the Hallelujah Mountains where the individual would walk among the floating island of banshees. The most dangerous creature to fly within the sky, aside from the great leonopteryx, the last shadow. You must look one in the eye and if it tries to kill you, it means you have been chosen as a rider.

After that, it's up to you. Live or die. Walk among the people forever or become an outsider. Stay or be exiled. It all comes down to that final test. After spending six months training, learning, and integrating your entire life onto the planet you had once only seen from a glass window, you were about to face the final test. It all came down to that moment after perfecting the language, understanding the orders of energy transfers under Eywa, practicing Tsaheylu, and consummating the skill of hunting. It all came down to sealing the bond with the second deadliest creature of the sky.

It was the morning before you were set to make the trek toward the mountains with Neteyam, Jake, and a few other young Na’vi prospects looking to prove that they should be accepted among the clan as adults. Before the village, they were hoping to be seen and accepted by their parents and other adults alike that they were no longer incompetent children, but well-working individuals of society. You had more to prove than them and everyone knew it.

For you it was everything and that thought alone had you retreating into the forest just before sunrise, the foliage illuminating under your feet, as you found yourself among the only spot you could find peace to think. The river and the waterfall that Neteyam had shown you five months ago — the night you had called a truce to the immature behavior and sharp tension.

From that night on, that place had become his spot and yours. Most of the time, the two of you went together at night. It was a place where you could talk, swim, and whisper to one another about the inevitable future that was approaching the both of you far too quickly. Where yours hung in the balance, unknown about what was to come, his was certain.

When you finished your training, he would be close to completing his own. If you did this, completed this, he would no longer be the Olo’eyktan in training but the future Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. He would work alongside Jake until one day the title would be bestowed on him when needed. He would no longer be seen as a boy but a man, and with that came making his bow from what was left of the wood of Home Tree, finishing a song bead for his songchord, and having a woman chosen for him.

Neteyam would be old enough and prove himself to have the ability to choose a woman within the village. However, where it would be any other man’s choice, you quickly realized for the future Olo’eyktan the privilege would not be the same. He would need a Tsahik to lead alongside him and his choice couldn’t withstand being wrong. The clan could suffer and Mo’at and Neytiri would work in their power to prevent that from happening.

As soon as his training was over, they would look to Eywa and choose his mate. From that moment on, they would be engaged, and as soon as he turned eighteen he was expected to consummate their marriage and their courtship. But then eighteen came and went and he had pushed it off. He had just turned nineteen and there was chatter going around, that they were already praying and looking to Eywa to guide them to an answer, and suddenly you couldn’t bear it.

It bothered you to no end, on top of the fear of not passing your final test. The thought of Neteyam being mated with another clan woman left the worst feeling in your stomach and made you so sick, but you shoved it down deep. So deep that no one else could possibly know about how you felt.

The very feelings that started to develop the first evening you met were later masked as dislike during that first month when you refused to listen to one another. It was seen as anger and hatred but after the night when he brought you here, to the river, that feeling still remained. The rage and the resentment were gone but the feelings deep within your stomach were still there, their grip tightly wrapped around your very being.

You knew though that once, or rather if accepted, traditionally one day you would have been able to be matched with someone. Asked by Eywa to be someone’s mate for the rest of your life but even if accepted, not all wishes and traditions are granted to dream walkers. Neytiri had expressed to you multiple times that you would still be a dream walker, a soul belonging to two bodies after the ceremony. It wouldn’t be fair to be mated with someone during the day but separate from them at night. She had lived that life once and she wouldn’t wish that upon any of the young men of their village, let alone one of her sons, who both seemed to have a strong connection with you. Mo’at agreed and therefore forbade you from being promised or even mated to a man of the village unless you became fully Na’vi.

That wouldn’t be happening anytime soon either because the more you wished to become full Na’vi, the more you began to separate from your former life. But Mo’at forbade that too. The transfer consisted of a ritual where the consciousness of a single being was transferred from one body to another. It had only been done twice and before that, no one knew for sure. After thousands of years, some things became more and more like folk tales. Out of those two rituals, only one survived. The one was Toruk Makto, Jake Sully.

With that case in point, Mo’at didn’t believe in your odds and she hadn’t asked Eywa enough about it to grant your request. It had been days ago when you had appeared in her hut, in a state of distress. After the whispers became louder about Neteyam’s future mate and the talk about your Iknimaya seemed to circulate the village.

It all was getting to you, not to mention the more connected you felt to this body, your avatar the body, the less you connected to your own. The original body you had spent almost ninteen prior years in, seemed to be failing you the longer you stayed in the link pod and with the Omatikaya.

The truth was your immune system was shot and somehow months ago you had contracted a virus and from there, things began to spiral. You were taking care of yourself less; by this time, you had become far too weak. Norm and Max had been trying to treat you with everything they had but with their resources limited they could only do so much. It had become worse just a few days prior when you for the first time ever delivered a successful clean kill. The testament of whether you were ready to complete the final test.

That night you had barely made it back to your own room by yourself as you had lost probably close to twenty pounds and had no strength left in your legs. Max had advised you or rather ordered you to take a few days off away from the link pod and lay in bed. You needed to rest and both he and Norm agreed that the strain on your body from the link process wasn’t helping you in the slightest, but you refused. You were too close, after so many long months, you were so close.

Not to mention that in this body, in this form, you couldn’t feel it — the weakness, the limitations, the way you felt yourself losing all hope of a normal life. In this body, you weren’t that and you refused to give it all up to become that version of yourself when you were this close. You suspected that Jake knew, that Norm had gotten in contact with him and told him about your human state but he hadn’t brought it up to you yet. Instead, he communicated it through lingering stares and the sudden extra attention you seemed to be getting from both his wife and his daughters.

On this day of all days though, that couldn’t have your attention, not when you were about to partake in the most important moment of your life. Sat at the edge of the river, you stared forward at the water, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs. Your chin leaned against your knees, deep in thought about all of the worst possible scenarios that occurred if you couldn’t do this.

You heard him before you saw him, he approached you from behind, his footsteps quiet as he stepped past low-hanging foliage like so many times before. How did you know it was him? Because it always was.

“Y/N?” The sound of your name fell from his lips like woodsprites on skin, softly, gently as if he didn’t want to scare you away. He stood behind you for a moment, staring forward matching where you were looking almost in uncertainty at your quietness. “Hey, what are you doing? You do realize we have to start making our way towards the mountains in about an hour.”

Silence was all he got in response as you continued to look forward at the water and the ripples that formed from a fish kissing the surface. His voice broke through your fears and worries with ease but it wasn’t enough to overpower them completely. You felt him sit next to you, close enough that his leg pressed against yours. He stared at the side of your face, those gold irises of his taking in every part of it and analyzing every one of your emotions. You felt his fingers brush against your skin as his hand delicately clasped around your forearm.

As if broken from your spell, you turned towards him, eyes swimming with every doubt in your body, “What if I can’t do this, Neteyam?”

“What?” his brows furrowed “How could you ask that?”

“What if I can’t claim an Ikran? Is that it? I just don’t become one of the people and then your parents exile me? I once again am nothing but an outsider? I don’t think I can do that. A life where I am not here every day in the village, or running through the forest. I don’t think I could stand it.”

He pulled you closer to him, a light chuckle falling from his lips, “Y/N. Woah, slow down.”

“And not being able to see everyone; your sisters, or Lo’ak, or Jake. I mean I don’t think I could ever live with never seeing any of them again. Not seeing you again…”

His hand tightened as if your words registered in his ears, the possibility of that flashing through his mind. He shook his head and focused instead on your widened eyes and how they refused to look away from him. “That won’t happen. You have this. We have trained for months and I know that—”

“But what if—”

“No, but anything, because you have this,” he said, tone solid, not bothering to let you finish your previous thought. A smile broke out across his lips then, “I thought you were tougher than this, Y/L/N.”

Usually, you would defy him, and argue with him but not like the two of you once did. Now those disagreements seemed to always be interlaced with teasing tones and sly smiles. You usually gave him a look filled with smugness just asking for him to try and regain control over you. This look on your face though didn’t appear anything like that though. Instead, you were deflated and falling apart at the seams.

“Me too,” you agreed.

“Y/N—” he started but his voice died quickly as you spoke again.

“If I do this, do you think the people will accept me?”

There was no hesitation on his part, “Of course, they will. Why would you ask me that?”

You looked away from him, pulling your arm away and scooting closer toward the edge of the river, disconnecting from him completely. He felt the warmth from his side disappear altogether as he watched you dip your legs into the water, your head hung low staring at your reflection.

“Pivlltxe’u (speak up)!” his voice was commanding of you then while he watched as you lifted your hands to look down at them.

“I can hear them, you know. After all this time the whispers still follow me around. My alien blood. That I am in a false body. That I am nothing like you but still in every way like them — the enemies, the sky people,” you admitted with a furrow in your brows.

Neteyam wasn’t quite sure what to say as even after the countless amount of nights the two of you had spent in that exact spot, you had never talked about something so serious. Something that was your past life, who you were, or what would be expected of you after this. Most of the time, you talked about him, and his future rather than your own.

“My father was like you.”

You laughed dryly, your hands dropping in your lap as your head lulled back slightly, “Jake Sully was not like me.”

“Except that he was,” Neteyam argued, glancing down at his own hands. His four-fingered hands didn’t resemble his father’s or his two siblings but something that still was deeply a part of his family.

“No,” you said, the harshness evident in your voice as your ears flattened back and your gaze fell back to your ten fingers, “Jake Sully was Toruk Makto. He led the clan to victory against the sky people. The very people who killed hundreds of innocent Omatikaya and refuse to leave this place in peace. He is not one of them.”

“And neither are you.”

He slid closer to you so that you could feel his warmth across your back and side. His chest pressed against your shoulder as he reached forward, his hand ghosting under yours. He took it and held it within his, the back of your hand pressed against his palm.

“You know what I see when I look at these hands?” he asked, voice soft, eyes locked on the side of your face, “It’s not the sky people or aliens in false bodies as everyone else calls them. No, I see my dad coming here and falling in love with my mom. I see him becoming one of the people, leading them to victory, and being appointed Olo’eyktan. I see my sister being born and then my brother.”

His breath slid across the side of your face, and you turned to look at him. The warmth of it then spread to your lips as he sat so close, stare already locked onto your own. Those gold eyes filled with specs of yellow and green haunted you at night every time you fell asleep; this was the first time you witnessed them so up close and personal in months. His gaze flickered down to your parted lips before darting back up to your eyes. You then felt his fingers curl around the back of your hand, slotting in between yours and intertwining them together.

You looked down at them and that warm feeling inside of you began to spread, like wildfire all throughout your entire body. He smiled as he continued, “When I look at these hands, I see you.”

Your own breath hitched in your throat and your eyes snapped back up to his, unsure if he really said those three words to you. Words you had been trying to earn from him for months. Though often used as a greeting, to some it meant so much more. It was said out of respect and in rare cases out of love.

“You can do this,” he said and you swore your heart stopped then and there.

You felt as if any words got stripped from your tongue and yanked back into your throat. You could only stare at him in disbelief taking note of the kindness in his eyes and how gentle his voice was. Five months ago things were so different, the way he looked at you was so different. Even if he still lectured you once in a while or hated how you sometimes did run off with Lo’ak, he was different. Ever since that night in the very same spot where he apologized and opened up himself to you, he wasn’t the same Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. From then on it was like he promised himself and his people that he wouldn’t be that person again. It started with you.

His hand tightened around yours, but before you could say anything else, the sound of footsteps and brush being pulled aside was heard. Your eyes broke away from Neteyam’s and he followed where your attention had drifted to.

Lo’ak stood just a few feet away, frozen at the sight of his brother’s hand tightly clasped around yours. When he noticed how close the two of you were sitting his hands tightened at his sides and his eyebrows raised almost in shock. You noticed the way a lump formed in his throat as his gold eyes, appearing so much like Neteyam’s, locked onto his older brother.

It was almost as if they were having a silent conversation through their matched stares and rigid statues. Lo’ak shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he hadn’t seen the two of you like this. He thought he had known how the two of you felt about one another. His brother hated you and you couldn’t stand the attitude you got from the oldest Sully. You two never acted like this, let alone felt any certain way to justify why you sat so close, holding hands.

Suddenly, it felt like so much more than two people casually comforting one another. Because you and Neteyam were at each other’s throats for months, even if things weren’t entirely the same, the two of you never publicly acknowledged one another outside of lessons. Lo’ak wondered if it had all gone over his head. Were their stolen glances? Light touches anytime you walked by one another in the village? At night would Neteyam sneak out of their tent just to come to find you?

He was overthinking it, evident in how his eyes flickered from you to his older brother and then down to your joined hands. But how could he not when he felt like he was getting slapped across the face?

Neteyam able to read his brother’s expression sighed and released your hand from his — almost as if it was the easiest thing in the world, almost like he needed to. You scooted back from him, putting more distance between the two of you as Lo’ak’s eyes zoned in on you, lips still parted in shock.

“Uh what is going on? You two are friends now?” his voice was spiteful and you couldn’t help but let your mouth part in shock.

Neteyam’s eyebrows knitted together and he suddenly became annoyed with his brother’s attitude, “Lo’ak, don’t!”

“What, I was just asking,” he rolled his eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck, “Dad says they’re ready. We should get going.”

You felt yourself inhale, your breath hitching as Lo’ak nodded his head in the direction of the village, refusing to make eye contact with his older brother. You looked over at Neteyam despite Lo’ak’s glare on your back, needing his reassurance one last time. He nodded at you approvingly, another reminder that you had this. His words ring in your ears and it was like suddenly his opinion was the only one that mattered. That whatever happened, what he thought about you was all that mattered.

Standing up, you approached Lo’ak as every moment of training seemed to flash before your eyes from beginning to end. It all led to this moment. Win or lose? That was up to you. He watched his brother stand too to follow the two of you as he wrapped his hand gently around your elbow.

You didn’t even question the touch from Lo’ak as over the course of the last six months he usually found some way to be touching you. Whether it was his palm on your lower back, legs brushing against one another during dinner, or his fingers trailing across the back of your hand while standing next to one another.

His physical touch had increased since you had gotten your avatar, but his flirting still remained the same. He was still the same Lo’ak you had met when you were a child and though Kiri had a lot to say about it, you constantly reminded her that things had not changed for either of you — especially for you.

The two of you walked alongside one another with Neteyam trailing back just enough to hear your conversation but not enough to be right on your heels. Something else that had lessened too, his need to hover over you and Lo’ak. With you spending so much more time with Neteyam, there was less time to be with his siblings so when Lo’ak did manage to swoop you away or convince you to sneak off somewhere, Neteyam turned a blind eye to it.

A part of you ignored the way your stomach dropped every time he let you go even when Lo’ak was asking you to leave early during a lesson. Neteyam would stare over at his brother and simply shrug and then just like that, you were being swept away in the opposite direction.

“You ready?” Lo’ak asked, his hand slipping down from your elbow to his side, but still close enough where you could feel his pinky bumping into yours.

It was something that had surely caught Neteyam’s eye. The way Lo’ak’s hand so clearly matched yours and even with the two of you walking side by side, he knew that your hand fit perfectly into his younger brother’s — five fingers and all. Just as he had noticed the certain way his younger brother had been looking at you lately as well as constantly trying to get your attention.

It plagued Neteyam with the worst feeling he had yet to encounter, one that stuck to him worse than the rage he had once pushed down so far. The frustration he once held for you didn’t match the way he felt now watching the two of you interact. A green monster their father had called it when he told his sons about it a few years ago — jealousy. It was a feeling that masked all others and slowly drove you mad if you let it.

“Yeah, I think so,” you replied softly, unable to look away from the forest before you as if you were taking it all in, in case it would be the last time.

“You think?” Lo’ak raised a single brow, “Please tell me you are more sure than that.”

Neteyam had heard the accusatory tone in his younger brother’s voice and he felt like scolding him for it as he noticed the way your ears twitched uneasily. What you needed right now was someone to reassure you not question you.

“I am…” your voice trailed off, your hand pulling away from where it hung by your side next to Lo’ak’s.

“Hey,” Lo’ak stopped, his hand grabbing your shoulder This made Neteyam pause too, a couple of feet behind the two of you. You glanced up at Lo’ak, hesitantly, gaze glancing from him and where the village sat just behind the tree line.

Lo’ak squeezed your shoulder in his, a smile forming across his lips, “You’re going to be fine.”

You nodded, but you seemed even less convinced now than you had been moments ago near the river, hand locked within Neteyam’s grasp. The older Sully boy cursed under his breath at his brother’s obliviousness, not able to read your feelings as easily as he could. He felt his whole body stiffen worse as he watched Lo’ak’s hand drift to your lower back and continue to guide you towards the village where their father was waiting with the other initiates.

“My dad and Neteyam will be with you the whole time and lead you up the mountain, okay? Then I’ll meet you up there as soon as I can,” Lo’ak explained even though you hadn’t asked, already aware of how the process would go from Neteyam explaining it thoroughly the night before.

“You’re not going with?” you asked, cautiously.

Lo’ak smiled at the question as the three of you broke through the brush and back into the village, “I have to do some things for my mom but I’ll fly to you when I am done. I’ll be there by the time you guys reach the top.”

You barely made a sound at his words, just continuing to walk through the village as a clear spectacle for everyone to look at. A show for them to whisper about and place bets on if you would manage to pass the final test or not. Their whispers were low and you folded into yourself as you observed the children pointing and the mumbling of the adults.

Lo’ak hadn’t spared a glance in your direction, but your frame relaxed briefly at the feeling of another person on your other side. It was Neteyam. He noticed the shift in your body language faster than anyone else. The way he walked overshadowed your figure slightly from others as if part of him wanted to protect you from everyone else and their loud mouths.

He as well as anyone else couldn’t deny how this day had proven to be a huge deal not just for every other Na’vi attempting it but because there was a dream walker among them attempting it too. It had been nearly nineteen years since the last dream walker climbed the Hallelujah Mountains and claimed his Ikran. The legend of Jake Sully was still talked about fondly by adults to their children as he was the first sky person to ever attempt it. As he went on to become Toruk Makto, those who had been too young to witness any of it at the time found their eyes forever focused on you — the next dream walker. The next sky person to try and live among them.

Neteyam could see it on all of their faces; the excitement, the curiosity that came when they saw you. Sure there were other young Omatikaya hoping to claim their Iknimaya but all eyes were on you. Especially considering it wasn’t just a test for you, but a test for the man who had taught you everything you knew. It was a testament to the future Olo’eyktan and if he had the capability to lead his people. Evident in the way all of the gold eyes would drift from you to him and how close he was walking next to you.

Now add in the fact that you were walking in between both of Toruk Makto’s sons, that sure also had an effect on people, noticeable in the way they would lower their hands to whisper to one another. He heard his name float in around his ears, accompanied by his younger brother’s. It was like adding that into consideration, you were shrinking further into his side.

As you approached the small group of young hunters just at the edge of the forest, you all found Jake standing proudly, speaking to all of them. Suddenly then as you stood just a few feet away, Lo’ak turned to you, his hand drifting down to yours. He squeezed it and wished you luck before he slipped away in the opposite direction towards his family’s tent.

Jake turned on his heels to see you standing there with his oldest son and he had to withhold the smile that was threatening to form on his face; one of pride almost even though you hadn’t done anything to have earned it. His eyes flickered to Neteyam and then back to you as the other four hunters, all many years younger than you, stared at you in wonder.

“You ready?” he asked, the same exact words Lo’ak had said only moments before and it brought on another wave of anxiety into your stomach.

You opened your mouth, lips parted slightly as if you were going to respond but no words emerged as you could feel all of their eyes burning holes into you. Neteyam’s gold eyes looked from his father to you but noticing your expression, he leaned closer to you, his hand ghosting over your back as he caught Jake’s gaze.

“She’s ready,” he said, without a question as his hand dropped from where it had hung in the air just over your shoulder blades. The warmth of it still ghosted across your skin though he hadn’t actually touched you.

Your fingers were digging into the ground above you, upper arms aching as you hung over the side of the mountain, feet barely hanging onto the side. Short of breath, you attempted to pull yourself up but grunted out of distress as your arms seemed to pop and ache at the attempt. You had felt weaker lately and you had a horrible suspicion why. Cursing under your breath, you glanced to your side, watching as each young hunter easily pulled themselves up. The nerves in your stomach increased again though Neteyam had spent the whole ride over on his direhorse, at your side sneaking you reassuring looks. It was like every few moments, his gold irises would drift back to you almost as if something about you guided him back.

You had thought no one would have noticed the small interaction but it was clear Jake Sully, and Toruk Makto had. He had been stealing his own glances in your direction having once been in your position and he was not surprised to find you riding in silence, chewing a hole into the bottom of your lip. His look was just as protective as his son’s and the pressure of their lingering gazes felt heavy on your chest.

Not to mention, every time the Olo’eyktan looked over his shoulder, he found his son already looking at you. The corner of Jake’s mouth lifted curiously as he watched the interaction between the two of you. The stolen glances how you would nod over to the older boy to assure him that you were alright. It had completely shifted, almost like a 180 from how the two of you interacted five months prior.

Just as you were about to try and swing your body up for the third time, a hand extended out to you. Neteyam stood on the edge, leaning forward, his arm out as any strong protector would. Jake watched closely as you shook your head at his son, eyes threatening him to back up and let you do this on your own. Neteyam sighed but took two steps back giving you a little more space.

The ache at this point was barely tolerable as you felt the rock scratching into your knees and your side. Sucking in a deep breath, you tightened your core and pulled yourself up. Arms bent at a ninety-degree angle, you swung one leg up and stood up with ease, slightly out of breath. Jake nodded approvingly and Neteyam held his hands up in defeat. You had this.

You followed the group across the floating mountain until you came across a waterfall, a small path hidden behind it that would lead to the other side. To the other side where all the Ikrans were, evident by the sounds of their flapping wings, and screeches. It made your ears twitch hesitantly as beads of sweat formed along your hairline.

You walked closely behind Jake, his tail flicking your leg as Neteyam stood behind you, his hand wrapping around your side to press along your hip as if to keep you from getting too close to the edge. You felt your breath hitch at the action but didn’t react to him, too nervous at the sight of the waterfall opening. Jake stopped right near the edge, looking over his shoulder to where you stood behind him

“Y/N, you okay going first?” he asked, cautiously, lowering his voice as he reached out to take your shoulder in his hand.

You nodded, but that didn’t feel like enough as you glanced past him to the crowd of creatures stalking around. All creatures with razor-sharp teeth and large claws. As your eyes met his again, there was a different look about you, “Yes.”

He smiled, squeezing your shoulder. You felt Neteyam lean closer from behind you, his chest meeting your back as his hand shifted upwards from your hip to your chest, his fingers pressed along your collarbone. His mouth opened softly to speak but they closed at the sound of a screech from behind you all on the other side of the waterfall. All heads turned and within seconds, another person emerged. Lo’ak appeared, his riding headpiece pulled down across his forehead, eyes finding yours immediately.

A grin occupied his face, “Hey, I told you I’d make it.”

As he looked past you though, he found his father giving him an unimpressed look, eyes settled into a blank look. He clicked his tongue back as if telling his younger son not to interfere as nine out of the ten times he would probably do something to cost this for you.

Lo’ak held his hands up defensively as he wedged his way between the other hunters and his brother, “Got it. I’ll be good.”

Sighing, you shifted your gaze back to Neteyam as his breath fanned across your face, “You can do this, okay? This you must feel inside. If it chooses you, move quickly just like we’ve practiced. You will have one chance.”

His words absorbed into you, your attention shifting from him back to the mountain ledge before you. You scanned the area, the banshees' colors reverberating off your eyes, like a reflection upon glass. You took one last deep breath, puffing your chest out as you stepped by Jake out from behind the waterfall. Confidence filled your statue as the Toruk Makto called your name.

Jake’s stare matched yours, flooded with determination interlaced with assurance, “Trust your instincts and trust your reflexes. Let your mind go blank and listen to your strong heart.”

You smiled for a moment before it fell away, a tight line taking its place. With your rope in hand, you unraveled it, able to hear the shuffling of the group of people stepping out from behind the waterfall. All were eager to watch the prospect, the dream walker, the sky person take on their Iknimaya. With the rope interlaced between your fingers, you swung it around as you stalked forward, slowly, the edges of the rocks digging into the bottoms of your feet.

Jake and Neteyam followed slowly as you stepped forward, eyes meeting each banshee you passed. A few flew off the large rock and with each one that disappeared from view, you felt the base of your stomach form into knots. The groups began to lessen as you moved forward near the edge of the mountain, saliva settling into the back of your throat.

None had shown an interest in killing you. None had shown an interest in your gold stare and sharp fangs. Not a single one could look you in the eye and bare its teeth. It was as if they could smell your alien blood, and see you as an unworthy rider, nothing like one of the Omatikaya. Your heart clenched as you slowly approached a third group of Ikrans. A bead of sweat slipped down from your forehead as you met all of their eyes, a small noise erupting from your throat resembling a yell.

Three of them flew off, their tails practically stuck in between their legs. Your anxiety spiked again until you found one Ikran still standing in front of you, its head turning towards you as it noticed you out of the corner of its eye. Its large yellow eyes zoned in on your predatory stance. You felt your ears flatten for a moment as you took in the creature. The large creature seemed to have the widest wingspan you had yet to have seen on an Ikran. Its skin was dark blue, so dark, it was almost black, resembling the night sky with bright purple and neon green markings.

“Shit,” you could hear Lo’ak from a few feet behind you as everyone else took in the Ikran’s large fangs and sharp talons.

You stood there, eyes widening in shock, tail flicking wildly behind you as the sound filtered over to you of someone smacking Lo’ak across the head. It was Neteyam no doubt. Shuffling awkwardly on your heels, you swung the rope around in your hand as the creature’s claws scratched at the ground beneath it. Its jaws were razor sharp and you felt something spark in you as it leaned its head back and opened its mouth wide revealing them. The hiss that erupted in your ears snapped you out of your daze and you watched as it stood up on its hind legs, snarling nonstop.

Tilting your head to the side, you felt all doubt, all fear be ripped free from your body. All that was left in its place was confidence in the form of adrenaline coursing through your veins. A small smirk formed across your face and Neteyam watched swelling with both pride and admiration, his eyes flicking back and forth from you to the beast before you. As the Ikran let out another loud screech, your ears flattened across your head, nose wrinkling as you revealed your fangs and hissed — a challenge you were displaying to the Ikran.

“You gotta move, Y/N,” Jake said, lowly under his breath, but you heard it, as your entire body broke free from the hold the Ikran’s gaze had on it.

“Let’s do this,” you mumbled, swinging the rope around in your hand as you stepped forward toward the Ikran.

Just as you took another step forward, the creature jumped forward, its mouth opening revealing its teeth again. It chomped trying to get a hold of you but your reflexes were too fast. You dodged it by leaping to the side and swinging the rope over the Ikran’s snout. It yelled, the scream high pitched, as the rope wrapped completely around its jaw locking it shut. You swung a leg over the creature, wrapping yourself around its neck. Arms locked around its head you struggled as the Ikran began to panic.

It stood upon its hind legs, wings flapping rapidly as its head thrashed back against you. Your grip kept slipping from around the Ikran, leaving strings of noises to slip from your mouth as it flapped around obnoxiously. Neteyam moved closer but still kept a reasonable distance between you and the beast. He hissed under his breath as he felt your window closing.

“Make the bond!” he yelled.

With one arm banded across the Ikran’s snout, you groaned as you reached for its queue, all strength leaving your body slowly as you continued to battle the large animal. As you felt the smooth skin of the queue within your fingers, the Ikran growled and threw its head back. Connecting with your body, you felt your grip loosen from the animal and disappear completely.

A yell erupted from your throat as you bounced off the back of the Ikran and collided with the hard ground. Your side hit the harsh material with a thud and you hissed out in pain as you felt it scratch against your skin. Legs limply on the ground and chest heaving up and down, you peered up at the Ikran as it slowly turned around to face you.

The rope was still tightly bound around its mouth but it was clear that your attempts had only pissed it off. It tried to break free from the constriction around its jaw but stopped for a moment when the cable didn’t snap. Its eyes found your frame on the ground, laying on your back, leaning upon your elbows. Body shaking, you were trying to catch your breath as the Ikran stalked forward, claws ripping holes into the ground. Remaining completely still, you peered up at it, eyes narrowed and a glare reflected across your face. This was the moment, the challenge at hand, the turning point of your entire life.

Win or lose?

Live or die?

Lo’ak bounded forward, trying to get to you, but he was stopped by his brother throwing an arm across his chest. Neteyam’s eyes had never left you and though his heart was clenching within his chest, a greater feeling had appeared within him. One that felt as if it had been sent from Eywa. A reminder of your strength, your fierceness, and the warrior that had formed deep within your bones. A smirk formed on his face as he watched the intensity in your eyes increase.

Your gold eyes hadn’t moved from the Ikran and as you looked deep into its black pupils, you saw your whole life flash across your eyes like a movie. Your father’s death. The great war, that convinced your mother to flee back to Earth. A newborn baby unable to travel within Cryo. A childhood stolen in replace of living in the confines of a lab. Spider’s resentment towards you. A human body you refused to accept as a reflection of who you were as a person. Arriving at the village, the constant judgments and fear sent your way from the villagers. The word alien being branded across your forehead.

It all had led to that moment and it all reflected back at you as you were able to see your reflection within the Ikran’s eyes. Smooth blue skin, gold eyes, white freckles, and a challenging curl to your lips. You, this was the real you.

One of the people or an outsider?

Ears twitching, your stare became deadly as you pushed out another hiss from your throat, the sound igniting your whole body with all of the energy and trust you had left. Just as the Ikran bounded forward, lifting its body, claws glistening in the sunlight. You tucked and rolled to the side out of the way just as the beast slammed its feet down into the spot you initially had been.

Moving quickly, you jumped up upon a rock and leaped for the Ikran. With a huff, you grabbed onto the animal, hand locking around its queue. Your legs folded across the Ikran’s head, tucking it in closer to its body as the creature flopped down onto its side. With your shoulder digging into the ground, you yelled out in pain as you reached behind for your own queue. Tilting the Ikran’s queue upwards, you moved yours towards it and felt your whole body relax as the pink nerve endings finally connected.

Chest still heaving up and down, your body collapsed for a moment as the Ikran’s pupils widened dilating. It convulsed again, as your hands wrapped tightly around the rope, “Stop!”

The Ikran’s body fell limp, relaxing at your words, and within a matter of seconds, its breathing leveled out. Staring down at the creature, a smile appeared across your lips, as it stared back at you and you were able to feel the way your heartbeats moved in sync with one another. Its breath you could feel within your lungs and it relaxed under your touch.

Kneeling over the Ikran’s neck, you felt the dirt sticking to your legs as you reached for the rope locked around its jaw. It loosened and slowly the Ikran rose from the ground, stretching out its mouth. It purred underneath your palms as the Ikran slowly stood up, taking you with it. Your feet were lifted off the ground, and you settled back against the base of the creature’s back, readjusting your grip.

Cheers were heard and as you looked up, you found the young hunters pumping their fists in the air and yelling your name. Jake was grinning from ear to ear, a look of pride swelling on his face. The same look both of his sons got when they completed their Iknimaya. Neteyam stood, shoulders pulled back, chest puffed out with the same look that his father displayed but somehow his tugged at your heart more.

He stepped forward as if he was going to approach you, but he stopped as Lo’ak blew past him. A large smile occupied his face, but you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing over his shoulder to his brother instead.

“First flight seals the bond," Lo’ak let out a yell and in an instant, there was a flash of blue and green and his Ikran was landing right beside yours. He hopped on, connecting his queue to the animal, before flying off into the sky, “Y/N, come on.”

You waited for a moment, stuck in a place where you weren’t sure where to go — almost as if your heart was split in half. Neteyam stood in the same spot, his eyes having never left yours and from where he stood he could practically feel the anticipation buzzing through your skin.

He wanted more than anything for it to be him — to be the one you would fly through the sky with on your first flight. After so many months of teaching you and spending endless nights under the trees by the river, he hoped it could be him. But at that moment it wasn’t; even though it was Lo’ak he couldn’t steal this experience from you. He wouldn’t, especially since he knew what it was like to be in your position.

Even when a part of you wanted him to give you a reason to stay and wait for him and his Ikran, you also couldn’t deny how restless you felt there on that rock. He could see it on your face, clear as day, like how he had seemed to learn every other one of your mannerisms in the last half of the year. Biting onto your lower lip, you couldn’t stop the way your eyes had softened over time as you had gotten to know this young man, who somehow had snuck up behind you and stole your heart.

It was something you hadn’t fully realized until that moment when he smiled over at you, his fangs poking out just past his lips. It wasn’t until he looked up after his brother and nodded his head in the direction, clicking his tongue softly in the air as if he was giving you permission.

Curling your fingers, you brought your hand up near your forehead and extended it out towards him. I see you.

With that you called out to your Ikran, the word fly falling from the tip of your tongue. It took off into the sky, wings extended out to their full length, as it dove straight down off of the mountain. Neteyam ran forwards towards the edge and peered down into the clouds where you and your Ikran had disappeared. But then in a matter of seconds, the clouds broke apart and you appeared again. Soaring through the sky, he watched as the Ikran leveled out, the image of your last action leaving an imprint in his mind and a permanent smile on his face.

Jake had been right once, in his video log. A direhorse was one thing but flying an Ikran, a person was made for this. You were made for this. With your feet perched along the Ikran’s sides, your hands clutched around its queues, giving quiet commands — it was as if you were at peace, completely free from the cage that your human body had turned into, free from the past that had plagued your memories, and the expectations that a dream walker held.

Feeling the wind on your face and the sun soaking into your skin, you were brought back to that first day with the avatar, when you first walked out of the lab. It felt just like this, able to take a deep breath without the need for an oxygen mask. It was a freedom and a privilege, just as this was.

As you looked around at the floating mountains, and the other banshees floating around you, you knew it then at that moment that you belonged there. You were a warrior, a rider, an Omatikaya, and in one way or another you were going to convince Mo’at of that and every other Na’vi. She was going to approve your request for the transfer ritual if it was the last thing you would ever do.

You had heard him before you saw him. A yell and then an echo across the sky followed by a shadow above you. Looking up, you found Lo’ak smiling down at you, the same look in his eye that you knew filled yours. The look of an Omatikaya rider. He veered left and then swooped down, his Ikran bumping into yours lightly. You gasped, hands instinctively tightening around your Ikran’s queues as your balance shifted.

Looking back over to Lo’ak, you found him laughing, a devious expression the only way you could describe it on his face. Withholding your own smile, silently you advised your Ikran to lean to the right, straight into Lo’ak’s lane. Your Ikran’s wings bumped into his lightly causing him to bank off to avoid the two of you colliding. When he looked over at you, you couldn’t help but let your head lean back as your sweet laugh escaped your throat.

You flew like that for a while, him casually bumping into you just to either get on your nerves or hear your laugh again. And somehow even though you wished Neteyam was still there to share that moment with you, you couldn’t help but indulge in the happiness you felt to be with Lo’ak — your long-time friend, the boy who had been flirting with you senselessly, but someone who would never once give up on you. He was loyal and even with your heart wishing for something else entirely, you knew it was a special moment to share with him.

Hours had gone by and finally, as the sun began to fall from the sky, Lo’ak had gotten your attention. You thought maybe he would lead you home, back to the village, but instead, he nodded his head in another direction, back into the floating mountains. Even with your lack of direction, you knew it wasn’t the right way, but you followed him anyway. He landed on one that had seemed so random to you, but you followed, commanding your Ikran to land.

Listening, it came to a stop near his, and for a moment before you got down from the creature, you looked over to Lo’ak still sitting upon his, and the largest smile formed across your face. Giggling, you shook your head in utter disbelief at the events that had happened the last few hours that were real and now engraved within your memory and soul forever. A look of his own formed across his face as both of your laughter faded.

He tilted his head to the side, something in his eyes completely different than anything you had seen before, a fondness of sorts, “Look at you, girl! You’re a natural already.”

His gaze was soft, too soft, you knew that. You looked away suddenly dismounting from the Ikran, letting your queue disconnect for the first time in hours. Letting out a soft breath, Lo’ak followed suit and he approached you to find you already staring over the edge at the fast-setting sun.

He chuckled, “This was where Neteyam and I both went when we each completed our Iknimaya. We flew for hours unable to convince one another to return home to the village. Even when he had completed his a few years before I did, he always flew like it was his first time — like we both could stay up here forever.”

You slowly turned your head to face him, his words drawing you in. He smiled at the memory, “Then even after we had been flying for hours unend we would come here, to this spot, and watch the sunset, the evening eclipse. Shit, you should have seen how mad our mom used to get at us when we would return home after dark. It was scary, honestly.”

“You still do that?” you asked suddenly, your own voice surprising you, “Fly together long after dark.”

Lo’ak shook his head, his smile slipping from his face just as quickly as it had appeared, “No, at least not with Neteyam. For the last year or so, he's been too busy with training. His focus is entirely put on our father and the role of being the future Olo’eyktan. Dad has him on a tight schedule.”

“But what about now? He is done training me. Shouldn't he have some extra time now?”

“No, because even if he won't be spending all day every day with you, he'll have other things to worry about. Olo'eyktan things with my father; raids, runs, lookouts, spotting.”

You nodded, his words making you once again realize, that this was it. Neteyam had done his job and no longer would you be spending days with him in the forest learning the language, hunting, or about the energies of the world. No more nights sneaking off into the forest just to breathe, away from the pressures the adults presented. He had done what was asked of him — teach you the ways of the Omatikaya.

“Yeah, I guess that would make sense,” you replied, unable to stop the ache that appeared in your chest or the need to pull on the tips of your fingers.

He examined the expression on your face and the disappointment that seemed to flood your system. He couldn’t help his next statement from slipping out of his mouth. “Yeah, so it's a good thing my mom and grandmother are choosing his mate for him? Because I don't know if he would ever have the time to do it himself."

“Hm, the next Tsahik, right? It’s an important role and an important choice. That will be happening soon then?”

“Yes, I think so, at least announced soon anyway. Mo'at has been looking for quite a while,” Lo’ak agreed, suddenly leaning closer to you as the thought once again plagued his mind of what he had overheard days ago. “Have you thought about it at all?”

Your brows knitted together as his question filtered through your ears. Looking away from the eclipse, you matched his stare, a questioning look filling your eyes as an unsure chuckle rumbled within your throat, “Thought about what?”

He was quiet then, eyes narrowing as they suddenly scanned your face, unsure if he should clarify what he had asked. Lo’ak turned to you fully, reaching out as if he was going to take your hands in his but then after a moment, they dropped back to his sides, a defeated sigh falling from his lips.

“Are you asking me about—”

“A mate?” he cut you off, “Yes.”

“What?” You sputtered out, eyes widening suddenly as your stomach tightened at the sudden shift in conversation. “Lo’ak—”

“I am asking you about whether or not you’ve thought about it,” he clarified, voice once again silencing yours as his bright eyes never seemed to leave yours, “You’re already eighteen and—”

“Lo’ak, stop,” you said, lifting a hand and sure enough his voice fell silent with the rest of his thought driting away to the back of his mind. “You and I both know that I can’t be mated with anyone. It is wrong.”

“But not impossible. You can. It’s just frowned upon.”

Your mouth fell open agape, afraid of where he was going with the words he had so clearly admitted to you. The way he was looking at you as he said it left a feeling in your stomach, almost as if it was dread, twisting away at your insides.

Yes, it wasn’t impossible, but Neytiri had explicitly warned you how wrong it was and what kinds of problems it would cause. Especially, considering Mo’at had denied your request, it would be even worse if you mated with someone without any of their blessings, defying their direct set rules.

It also wasn't Lo’ak that came to mind when you put in the request. Sure a large part of you could always say you went to Mo'at for yourself, for the health you were currently lacking when you left the village at night and returned to the lab, but there was another reason — another person. It had never been and would never be Lo’ak.

“I mean it clearly has crossed your mind if you went and saw Mo’at. You asked her about the transfer ritual, right?”

Eyes narrowing in his direction, you held your ground, body tensing as he revealed that he somehow had known. Known that you had gone to see the Tsahik and asked her about the consciousness transfer. He knew and suddenly a panic filled your body. What else could he have known? The reality is there's so much he doesn't know, so that plagued you with the question.

You shook your head, annoyance evident in your tone, “Lo’ak, how did you…”

“I heard you,” he admitted without a moment of hesitation, “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop but when I heard your voice with Mo’at I was curious. Then you mentioned the transfer ritual, and I couldn’t help myself but listen.”

You exhaled, somewhat frustrated, a sudden notion to get back on your Ikran and escape back into the forest and to the village. Your body had already used up its stored energy for the day and you knew the night would be hell when you returned to your human body. But as annoyed as you were that he had heard the request you had put in with Mo’at, you were interested in why he had brought this up. Why he had chosen to mention it to you — let alone the part about mates?

“What are you trying to say?”

He smirked then as if he had come up with the most brilliant plan but it only left your body feeling cold and slightly worried, “All I am trying to say is that you will become full Na’vi and that means you will be able to be chosen as someone’s mate.”

“Lo’ak,” you warned suddenly, able to follow his thinking after having known him for so many years, “Please.”

He ignored your quiet plea for him to be careful with his words as your eyes fluttered to a close. His hands taking a hold of your arms bought your gaze back to his. A small smile appeared on his lips, “What if we became mates? What if we chose each other?”

A pin dropped as well as your stomach, as if you were back on your Ikran diving down within the sky, waiting for the air to shift. This didn’t feel like it was going to level out like the air or register in your ears anytime soon. You stared forward at him, scared to look away, scared to break the hope that filled his eyes.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I mean the idea is kind of all over the place, but think of it this way. My parents can’t choose my mate for me and you don’t have to deal with all of the assholes in the village that obviously aren’t good enough for you,” he explained, his hand drifting up to cup your face, “Plus, you want to stay, don’t you? No matter what happens you want to stay here with us, right? Like this, in this form?”

“Lo’ak.��

He was quiet for a moment, thumb softly bruising along your temple, gaze staring deep into yours. “We could be happy, Y/N. Just you and me.”

You found yourself studying the ground, suddenly feeling sick and like a complete mess as your mind somehow wandered to the one person that seemed to never leave it. Neteyam, the future Olo’eyktan. The very man who would have his Tsahik chosen for him by Mo’at and Eywa herself. The very man who would have the perfect match — a woman who was strong, incredibly smart, and a gifted healer. A Tsahik that was selfless and would provide for her people. That wasn’t you. You knew it. Lo’ak knew it. He hadn’t brought up Neteyam again but the hesitancy in your eyes, the anxious thoughts that had slipped from your tongue, he knew was because of his older brother. His older brother who was already spoken for.

“Lo’ak, where is this coming from?” you asked, hand reaching up to hold his wrist in your hand, a confused look on your face.

He was hesitant to answer, seen in the way, his eyes shifted to the sky behind you. You made a displeased noise and his eyes found yours again, a smile forming because you knew him all too well after so many years.

“We have been friends for a long time now. For seven years I've always been used to it being us and Kiri and Spider. But somehow even with everyone, we found time just for us. I don’t know, I guess I just feel like I don’t see you as much as I used to.”

“Yeah, well a couple of things are different now. Huge things,” You chuckled, hand reaching up to take his hand from your face, interlacing it in yours.

His eyes followed your movement and stared down at your large blue hand that fit suddenly so perfectly in his compared to your human one that had always felt so awkward. He had never been great at communicating the hard stuff or admitting when something was bothering him, so you knew this was his way of saying that he missed you. With all of the sudden changes, he was struggling with accepting them.

“I’m also not locked away in a lab anymore, I am here with you. Things are going to be different, Lo’ak but it doesn’t mean our friendship is going to change.”

“I guess I just am not used to sharing you,” he admitted, a flush appearing on his face and it made you realize exactly who he was referring to. Neteyam. “What, outsider and outcast together, you don't want that?"

You sighed, his joke not pulling enough strings in your heart to change your initial apparent feelings. You knew what Lo'ak thought and you knew that he wasn’t going to willingly drop this without you taking the time to fully contemplate it even if his intentions weren’t romantic. You inhaled, the depth enough to reach your core, as his warmly coated stare seemed to engulf you whole.

His attempts were not poorly identified, casted by his loyalty to you but his execution was suffocating you. Where he could be a consolation prize, you be only an entrapment for him. He deserved more than you. “Lo'ak wouldn’t you want to be mates with someone that you love though? I mean do you even feel that way about me?”

He ignored your question and somehow that was an answer in itself.

“Look, I am not worried about spending the rest of my life with someone I may not feel for as my parents do with each other. Because I know this, us — we could make it work. Do you know why I am so sure about that? Because we have been friends for so long and it wouldn’t be so bad. We could take care of each other, be just as we are now, and build a future for ourselves. And if that's what settling for a life with you, looks like, then I’ll take it,” he paused, voice lowering as a smile fell across his lips, “I would rather settle for that than go along with whoever my parents choose for me. Plus I want you to stay, Y/N.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks and suddenly just as you thought everything had become so clear, so free from the downfalls of life, reality hit you again. It shifted and all of your problems returned led by an entirety of new ones. Because there's always a choice that has to be made; choose other people, choose to make them happy, or choose yourself even if there is no assurance that it'll all work out for you. Do you decide to take that risk?

Staring in the face of that question, it felt as if thousands of arrows were coming straight for you, its toxicity was inevitable and it would pierce into you, refusing to ever be pulled free from your skin. Yet, everything he said was so true, so undeniably true, but it all left you feeling uneasy for one reason only, one person only.

It was supposed to be a moment of relief, a moment where you were swelling with pride as you had completed Iknimaya. You were hours away from your ceremony with the people. The most important day of your entire life and one you had been thinking about for years. An accomplishment that would be encased in the back of your mind, as you were only the second dream walker to have ever done it.

It was supposed to be your moment but now because of this eclipse, this mountain, this ride — your moment would remain bittersweet, overclouded by Lo’ak’s proposal.

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