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imagining-in-the-margins · 1 year

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Growing Pains (S.R.)

Summary: When Spencer finds unfamiliar lingerie in the laundry, he didn’t realize how difficult it would be when he confronted his wife… and learned it didn’t belong to her, either. It belonged to their daughter. Request: reader and Spencer are happily married and have a 16-year daughter. She has a new boyfriend (her first boyfriend) and her parents are worried. They meet the boyfriend. A/N: Who doesn't love a little Dad!Spencer? Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Domestic Fluff (16+) Content Warning: Awkwardness, father & daughter relationship, protective Dad Spencer, lingerie, meeting the parents, firearms mention, Spencer finds his daughter’s lingerie and thinks his wife is cheating on him, it’s hard to explain, mentions of sexual themes, innocent kissing Word Count: 3.7k

There is something so mundane yet so serene about suburban life. That idyllic air that carried small bits of freshly mown grass and children’s laughter. That wasn’t to say that my life was uneventful, however.

After all, it would be nearly impossible to have a boring life while married to Spencer Reid.

But it was rare for me to feel any level of discomfort as I patrolled familiar halls. Mild annoyance, maybe, but never before had I felt such a sense of foreboding.

Not until that fateful day where I arrived home from errands to find that the clean laundry has already been pulled from the dryer. That in itself wasn’t bad—I was more than happy to let someone else do the folding—yet when I walked up the stairs, the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention.

“Spencer?” I called.

“In here,” he answered without his normal enthusiasm.

Now that was unnerving.

The situation only got worse when I did finally open the door to find him awkwardly pacing around the room. My attention followed him back and forth a couple times before he came to a sudden stop.

“Hi honey,” I offered as gently as I could, “What’s up?”

“Hi,” he replied, still dejected and distant. He didn’t come any closer to me before he began fiddling with his fingers.

After a tense moment of silence, I asked again, more directly, “Are you alright, Spencer?”

“I have something very difficult to discuss with you, and I-I just want to ask for you to be patient with me.”

My heart sunk at the realization that the sense of foreboding was coming from him. The muscles straight up stopped beating, turned to rocks, and tumbled into my stomach.

I shook my head to try to stave off the stupor associated with shock.

“What are you talking about?” I asked because I needed to know just how much my simple suburban life was about to change.

Was he cheating on me? Was he going back to prison? Were their federal agents standing outside, ready to tear our family from our home?

When he finally began to speak, however, it was far from a satisfying explanation.

“I know I’m not always the best husband, and I know I can be absent and that the stress of the job and the kids and the state of the entire world, really, can get in the way of our time together,” he said with an increasing tempo.

“Spencer,” I said as a beg and a warning, “Just say it.”

He held his hands up in surrender as he pleaded back, “Please, just…”

I could feel my pulse in every extremity. My skin burned with blood and my lungs cried out for oxygen.

“I know you, I do,” he assured me before he continued, “and I know this sounds so unbelievably horrible for me to even accuse you of something like this, but…”

Me?

In that terrifying silence, I ran through our lifetime of memories to try to find something I might have done wrong. But no matter how hard I searched, I found nothing that might make him want to leave me like this.

Unless…

And then he said it.

“Are you… cheating on me?”

So quickly, my fear shifted to white-hot rage that came out of my mouth so ungracefully that I nearly knocked the lamp off the bedside table in my confusion.

“What?! No!” I shrieked, “Oh my god, what made you think that?!”

At first, Spencer relaxed. The veracity of my answer had been convincing because it had been true. But Spencer, clearly still concerned that I was somehow an award-worthy actress, continued to wring his hands together throughout his poorly planned confrontation.

“I, um… I found… lingerie. In the laundry,” he said with a tilted timbre. “And I know I’ve never seen it on you before, and I also know it wasn’t new.”

The busy blood in my veins immediately knew to cower. Before it had even struck me how utterly fucked I was, I was practically trembling with concern.

Spencer saw the fear, and instead of realizing it was about what he had no way of knowing, he interpreted it as a different kind of admission.

“So, whose is it?” he asked.

Stepping towards the bed, I motioned for him to take a seat. When he didn’t? I urged him, “Honey, sit down.”

“… Oh,” he muttered before practically collapsing on the bed.

Slightly annoyed by the dramatics, I rolled my eyes and sighed before I explained, “No, not that.”

He didn’t believe me, so I sighed again.

“Spencer, I am not cheating on you.”

That time, he sighed. I let him enjoy the brief reprieve before I threw him headlong into the worst kind of turmoil.

“What you found… isn’t mine,” I stated very clearly.

“But—?”

“It belongs to our daughter.”

The room fell silent. I watched as the realization dawned on him. Slowly, his glazed over eyes began to reflect the harrowing reality.

Then, all at once, his entire world came to a devastating end. Jumping up from his seat on the bed, Spencer grabbed his head and yelled in utter disbelief.

“What?!”

“Spencer, calm down,” I tried.

It didn’t work.

“What do you—she’s only 16! What do you mean it’s her—?!”

I watched from the sidelines as his brain short circuited. He tried to pace, but ended up just trapped in the same spot with flailing arms and wild hair.

Eventually, he settled on the question that had made me so nervous in the first place.

“Where did she even get it from?!”

“I bought it for her,” I said.

The fight left his body immediately. Spencer fell back on the bed and buried his face in his hands with a dramatic groan.

I sighed, again.

I was fully prepared to let him wallow in the grief of his daughter’s childhood, too. But then he had to go and say something silly again.

“Oh my god, I wish you had been cheating on me,” he strained, “That would have been so much easier than this.”

“Spencer!”

“I’m sorry!” he conceded immediately, “I didn’t mean it. I love you, I’m glad you aren’t cheating on me.”

Despite his well-intentioned apology, he remained inconsolable. I thought about giving him a moment to spiral, but I also knew that this was a bandaid that had practically fused into his skin.

At a certain point, it just became necessary for us to discuss it—with or without the dramatics.

“I know this is upsetting for you, but our daughter is almost a grown woman,” I explained to my pitiful husband who continued to make sounds of general protest. “I don’t want her to think of her body as anything less than something worth feeling good about.”

Finally popping up from behind his hands, he returned a bitter laugh.

“Okay, but is she doing it to make herself feel good, or to please some piece of shit asshole quarterback?” he spat.

He didn’t appreciate the way it made me laugh, but I couldn’t help it. It was a ridiculous notion and he deserved to be mocked for it.

“Spencer, your daughter would not be interested in a quarterback.”

He knew I was right, but in typical Spencer fashion, he refused to admit it.

Instead, he just huffed, “How would I know?!”

But I knew he would, eventually, respond to reason, so I didn’t relent no matter how much he begged me to.

“Sex shouldn’t be a scary thing for a teenage girl! I wanted her to know she can feel comfortable telling me things. Like if she needs condoms or the pill or, heaven forbid—!”

“Oh my god, please stop,” he groaned, “Just, give me a second, please!”

I allowed him the moment because I knew he needed it.

Sure enough, after a couple seconds of reflection and a few deep breaths, Spencer returned to his normal eccentricity. He even managed to chuckle to himself a little bit, although I’m sure he’d still felt his dramatics were justified.

He didn’t protest when I took a seat beside him on the bed. In fact, he was quick to lean on me.

I wrapped my arms around him and tried to stifle my laughter at how downtrodden he’d become. My hand smoothed over his hand and I tried to offer him reassurance that everything would be alright if our daughter grew up.

“Oh, honey, nothing has changed. She’s still our baby girl,” I reminded him.

“I know,” he sighed. Then, through laughter he muttered, “It was just a lot for me to go from thinking you secretly hated me to our daughter wearing lingerie, alright? It’s a lot.”

He buried his face against my shoulder and took another deep breath before he held me back. The simple gesture reminded me just how much he’d probably been through in past hour. Of course, it had all been self-inflicted and based on comical perceptions. But it was a lot, and I always loved the chance to comfort him.

We sat like that for a while. We sat with the knowledge that we’d made it this far. There was something special about this fear, because it meant that we had done at least a few things right.

That didn’t really help assuage any of the fears for the future, however.

“Is she having sex?” he asked.

I wished I had a better answer.

“I don’t know,” I admitted with an exhausted groan, “My plan didn’t work. She won’t tell me anything.”

“What do we do?”

It was a question I’d spent hours pondering only to end on the same-old, unsatisfying answer.

“I guess we just… wait until she’s ready to tell us about her boyfriend.”

Silently, Spencer lifted his head and turned to me. The foreboding returned with a vengeance, but this time, I was prepared for the question to follow.

“… her what?”

I’d always heard people say that domestic suburban life could be hell on earth. I’d always shrugged it off, convinced that I had figured out the impossible and remained happily in love with my wife and the proud father of a very well-adjusted daughter.

But as I stood in my bedroom, bereft of even the basic will to live while my beautiful, loving wife fixed my tie, I realized that they had been right.

Fatherhood was hell, and my wife was the devil’s favorite accomplice.

On any other occasion, her preening would have me melting between deft fingers. In that moment, however, I felt nothing but disdain at her attention to detail.

Because she was not doing it for my benefit. She was doing it so that my disheveled appearance wouldn’t upset another man. A cruel man who sought to steal away the brightest light of my life.

That night I had to meet my daughter’s very first boyfriend.

“Are you ready?” my wife asked.

“No, you took away my gun,” I replied with the utmost sincerity.

Clever eyes darted up to mine before she laughed. The sound brought me little comfort. I tried to be upset at how she took joy in my suffering, but my lips turned to a pout before a frown.

“Yes, you’re very scary, dear,” she hummed.

Then, without warning, she pressed her lips to mine. Perfectly painted lips felt different but still tasted sweet.

Those damned fingers smoothed over my shoulders until stern muscles relaxed once more.

Eventually they crept up and cupped my jaw. Gently—at first.

So quickly they turned brutal, pressing hard enough on my cheeks to force another pout from tired lips.

“He’s a sweet boy and you’re going to be nice to him, alright?” she warned.

If she hadn’t been squeezing me so tightly, she would’ve seen me smile.

“We’ll see about that,” I deadpanned.

Again, she laughed, and that time, it brought me all the comfort I could ever need.

That darling devil of a woman stole one more kiss before she whispered, “Good enough.”

For a moment, it was. But then the doorbell rang and, despite all her efforts to lift up a heavy heart, it still plummeted to my stomach at the sound.

So quickly, my favorite girls had fled towards the door and left me frozen in the lurch. My hands and feet felt numb as my heart tried to reason with a stubborn mind.

There were some things a father had to eventually face.

My little girl was growing up, and my bad knee probably wouldn’t survive the jump out of a second story window.

There was only one way out of this. I had to go through it all.

I could hear their voices, so full of joy and love that it made me ache at the thought of losing half of it.

But deep down, I knew that I risked losing her regardless of how much I resisted the boy she’d chosen.

So, eventually, I managed to shuffle stubborn feet down the hall and towards the living room.

Somewhat to my surprise, the boy’s presence was hardly noted. In fact, if my wife hadn’t been making such a fuss about the bouquet he’d handed her, I might have even missed him.

We locked eyes from across the room. The poor boy’s muscles seized in an instant. His shoulders crept towards his ears and he lost the battle of keeping his eyes on me.

There was a distant, fleeting feeling at the sight. Something not easily described, which made my palms sweaty.

My eyes almost fell to the floor, too, but they were stopped by the sight of my daughter. Seemingly unaware of my gaze, she’d thrown her arms around the boy the first moment that she could.

Again, my heart ached with a confounding feeling. With narrowed eyes and a fast-beating heart, I struggled to place it.

Thankfully, my wife was quick to interrupt before the two had caught me staring.

Before she called us all to dinner, though, I spotted that same wistful twinkling in her eye. She had simply been better at hiding it than me.

For that same reason, I let her take charge. I sat almost silent, successfully biting my tongue to save my daughter from the embarrassment of my unbridled enthusiasm.

Of course, her pride hadn’t been the only reason that I’d hardly spoken. There had been a couple more selfish desires.

The first was my unwaning concern about any boy who’d so much as looked at my daughter. However unlikely it might have been, I had to be certain that this boy was as harmless as he seemed.

My mind began running a million scenarios of increasing horror. Yet right before the fateful final moment, the theoretical fell flat.

There was, to my relief, almost nothing disconcerting about the boy.

Almost.

There was still… that funny feeling.

“Dr. Reid?”

The sound of a familiar moniker in an unfamiliar place—from an increasingly familiar voice.

“Hm?” I answered the boy.

“I hope it doesn’t sound rude, but I looked you up before I came,” he said with the telltale crackling of a nervous teenage boy.

“I don’t think it’s rude,” I said.

That’s what I would have done, was the unspoken realization.

“Well, that’s a relief,” he laughed.

My wife and daughter stifled a chuckle as they exchanged a secret set of glances that I didn’t understand.

“Your writing is way more advanced than my reading level,” the boy continued, “but I did try to read some of them. Your philosophy papers seemed so…”

He struggled to find the next word. His face twisted between a smile and something similar to a flinch. I recognized the hesitance like a mirror to the past.

“Would… hopeful be the right word?” he asked.

“Yes!” I shouted, to my own surprise.

And that boy’s face lit up like a properly screwed lightbulb from one of my very poorly received philosophy jokes.

I had become so excited by the prospect of being understood—for once—by someone so young and green that I could hardly contain my excitement.

“Which paper did you—?”

I cut myself off when I heard a soft sigh from the boy’s side.

At first, I’d thought that it was my daughter trying to warn me of my first social faux pas of the evening. But I was instead pleasantly surprised to find her contented smile. Although, it was aimed at someone else.

“No, please,” the boy beamed, “I want to hear about all of them.”

I contained the buzzing in my fingertips that tapped against the table. I turned to my wife for permission, but her slight nod didn’t provide me the confidence to continue.

It wasn’t enough until my daughter blurted out, “Go ahead, dad. I know what I signed up for.”

What confounding words to be uttered so simply. I didn’t dare question them then.

Instead, I answered his question. I spoke at length and about anything he could remember. To my surprise, the conversation wasn’t nearly as one or two sided as I’d expected.

By my daughters third question, I was forced to accept that she really had been listening to me all those years while staring down at her phone.

My wife had been the quietest person at the table. The whole dinner, she just seemed to lean back and admire the scene before her. But behind each sip from her glass, I spotted a cheeky smile that appeared alongside that wistful distance in her eyes.

I decided I would ask her later what she saw.

Later came sooner than expected, however. The summer sun had long since set when an unfamiliar phone dinged.

“Oh, sorry, it’s my mom,” the boy muttered. There was a brief disappointment that seemed to dissipate the moment he read the message. “I should really get going, anyway. I don’t want to take up your whole night with my curiosity.”

“He really would talk forever if you let him,” my daughter said under her breath.

I assumed it had been a comment about me.

I was wrong.

“It’s just not very often I get to ask a philosopher for his thoughts, okay?” he chuckled.

He must’ve felt my dumbstruck staring, however, because he stopped himself. He straightened his back the best he could but his hand still trembled when he reached out to me to shake it.

“It really was nice to meet you, Dr. Reid,” he offered.

I was too frozen by the shock of how many mistaken assumptions I’d made in such a short period of time to respond. I glanced down at his hand and recalled a time where I was adamant that I wouldn’t shake a strangers hand.

That hadn’t been true anymore (thanks to my very supportive wife and therapist), but my daughter still recognized the ghost of hesitance.

One stern look from her made me spring into action.

His hand was warm and softer than mine. The only calluses were caused by a firm grip on a pencil rather than a gun. There was nothing worrisome about the way he tried to follow every instruction manual for handshaking.

He was, as my wife had put it, a sweet boy.

“It was very nice to meet you, too,” I returned. Then, knowing how much it would mean to them both, I smiled as I added, “I look forward to next time.”

Their responses were everything I had predicted, and it was entirely worth whatever germs might have been transferred.

The moment I turned my attention away from them, I watched from the corner of my eye as they excitedly squeezed each others hands until their whole bodies were bouncing.

“I’ll walk you to your car!” my not-so-little girl shouted.

It was less walking and more dragging until he managed to catch up to her.

The sight tugged once more at my heart. That strange feeling crept forward again and I tried to find its name as the front door clicked shut.

My wife swiftly ended the thought, however, by grabbing my hand and taking off towards the stairs.

“Come on!” she half-whispered between her tugging and my stumbling.

“Where are we going?!”

“We’re going to spy on them!” she now fully yelled, “Hurry up!”

In a fit of laughter and with our hands never breaking apart, we did just that. We booked it up to the master bedroom and—with the lights still off—my wife’s clever fingers pried apart the blinds just enough for us to peer through them.

The suburban summer night was almost quiet enough to hear them make their inevitably awkward goodbyes. The soft glow of carefully placed streetlights painted my daughter in an even more beautiful light, and I could tell the boy in front of her appreciated it for everything that it was.

Yet he turned away from her first, with his hand lingering in hers.

Somehow, I knew what would happen before it did. Sure enough, my daughter refused to let go. She used that hesitance to leave and pulled him right back to her and straight into a quick, chaste kiss.

And that was when I realized what that feeling had been. That lurid memory, the subtle glowing of my heart, was the familiarity of it all.

The scene unfolded like a home movie ripped straight from my memory.

In perfect synchrony with that epiphany, my wife released a dreamy sigh.

“Do you remember when that was us?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I laughed, “I do.”

I remembered it all with perfect clarity, despite how far away it had fallen. I dragged the memories back up with the same insistence that my wife had used to bring me to that moment.

I remembered the butterflies in my stomach and the anxiety of knowing that I was madly in love with a woman that was much too good for me. I also remembered how it felt to clamor back into my car and have to drive away from her with the taste of transferred lipgloss on my lips.

As the boy drove away, I felt a wave of relief ushered on by my wife’s comforting embrace.

“I think they’re going to be okay,” she whispered.

“Yeah. Me too,” I agreed.

We’d seen it happen before.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

Looking for more to read? Check out my CM Father's Day Rec List here! It has SFW and NSFW categories.

Reid Taglist (Everything Reid): @mrs-dr-reid , @dreatine , @hopefulfangirl24 , @laurakirsten0502 , @dontcallmekittens , @rintheemolion , @andreasworlsboring101 , @imsuperawkward , @wentz2005 , @lovejules888 , @dashneydanger , @materialisthicc , @violetspoetic , @mslowlife , @conniesanchor , @red-shirt-reid , @princessamanda2022

Complete Taglist (All Works): @cynbx , @emsma11 , @mediocre-writer , @fightingdragonswithwho , @andiebeaword , @jayyeahthatsme

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfiction

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billiethepumpkin · 1 month

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An Expanded Family: How They'd Be as Step-Parents

Warnings: Rated R. This content is intended for readers ages 18 years or older. If you are a minor, do not interact.

Contains: GN!Reader. Multiple family situations. Deceased parents. Coparenting. Absent parent. Blended families. Adoption of a younger sibling. Step-parent behavior.

Featuring: Izuku Midoriya. Ochaco Uraraka. Tenya Iida. Momo Yaoyorozu. Shoto Todoroki. Mirio Togata. Hitoshi Shinsou.

Author's Note: All characters are written to be adults because I am an old fuck :)

Izuku Midoriya

It had been the first thing he learned about you. You were a parent. Parenthood was deeply engrained in the way you operated, especially in the Pro Hero space.

When you started dating, though, it became so much more complicated than that.

He started overthinking immediately.

Deku was a lot of things. A lot of little kids looked up to him. He met people every day, but the pressure of meeting your little one was extremely high.

Sometimes you'd catch him mumbling to himself, practicing how to talk to a little kid. He knew that screwing this up might mean losing you forever.

But there is literally no possible way that he could screw it up. In any universe.

He decided to go with you and your four year old son to a playground. He put together a picnic and everything.

Izuku was perfect.

You were sure you fell in love with him all over again, watching him on the playground with your baby.

He was a little awkward at first, but as soon as your son asked him to play tag, Midoriya was all over it.

Your baby had him climbing up slides, going down fireman's poles, swinging on swings, the works.

And you couldn't tell who was having more fun: Izuku or your son.

Sometimes, Deku would come over and babysit for you while you had to run off to work or to run an errand.

Izuku always just treated them like playdates or sleepovers, though.

He asks your son's permission for everything first. Especially when he's about to take big steps in the relationship, like moving in.

But when Deku asked your son if he could move in with you guys, your son got all wide eyed and excited.

"Yeah!" he exclaimed, smiling wide. "It'll be like a big sleepover!"

Midoriya knew your son had another parent, whether they were involved or not. He wasn't really trying to take over the father role.

It just fit him so well.

Soon, he found himself making pancakes and packing lunches and planning birthday parties.

Midoriya loved the life he had with you and your son. He loved it much more than he had anticipated.

And when you saw how much he loved your son, and how much your son loved him, it sealed the deal for you, too.

Ochaco Uraraka

Ochaco was surprised to find out you had kids. You were always so put together.

Not that parents can't be put together, she supposed, but you just didn't really seem like the parent type when she met you.

But whenever she came over while your twin daughters were there, she immediately saw a different side of you.

It made her fall that much more in love with you.

The first time you asked her to babysit, you were on your way to the hospital to see your sister have her own baby. Their other parent was never really in the picture, and everyone else that you would normally ask to watch the babies was also going to the hospital.

Uraraka volunteered almost immediately.

She had been with the twins and you enough times that she thought she had the hang of it.

However, they were only three years old, and whenever it came time to feed them, Ochaco realized she knew so little about children.

Nothing she offered seemed to satisfy them. It took her a while to figure out what they wanted, with their picky palates.

But she did it, eventually.

She knew the routine. Dinner. Bath time. Show on the couch. Then bedtime in the room they shared.

That night, you came home to find your two girls asleep with their heads on Ochaco's lap, her head leaned back on the couch as she dozed, too.

You merely giggled and brought your two girls to their own beds, then brought Ochaco into bed with you.

After that, it took her a while to feel comfortable watching the girls without you.

But she was very good at following your parenting style whenever it was the two of you!

And, man they loved her.

Any chance they got, they dragged Ochaco into the floor to play with them.

Coloring books, ball games, dress up, anything they could convince her to do.

With your permission, she had even floated them a couple of times.

And it warmed your heart when you heard one of them ask her, "Ochaco, will you be my Mama?"

Tenya Iida

You only got your baby every other week.

Your son was still a newborn, and his other parent was still very much a part of his life.

You wanted to make as much of the time you had with him as possible. So originally, Iida wouldn't come over during the weeks that you had him.

However, all of that changed when his dad wanted to switch weeks for a family event that you'd had going on.

You'd been so absent minded about it that you had forgotten to tell Iida.

Tenya had offered to just go back home and to reschedule his visit for the following week. But you thought that was as good a time as any for him to meet your son.

Iida met your baby while he was sleeping.

He was quiet and attentive, taking in the entire nursery. He didn't think you had shown him that part of your house before.

And even though he loved you and your son, it took a long time for him to really feel like he was part of your family.

I mean, you were seemingly still really close with the baby's other parent. He was never going to be able to step inside the bubble of your family.

Especially because Iida never really did the whole "step-father" thing.

At least, not in the way that anybody else usually did it.

He was more clinical, more calculating, the way he was with everything.

He didn't give the baby any baths or diaper changes for the first six months that you knew him, at least. He felt like it was inappropriate for him, as someone who isn't even related to the baby, to be doing those things for him.

He would do almost everything else, though. Feeding, playing, walks, different learning exercises, cleaning, more feeding.

You knew that everything he ever said or did was only because he cared about you and your baby.

However, he was always insecure about it. He never thought he'd be able to get your ex to trust him, and he never wanted to give either of you a reason not to.

Until you had a conversation with him about it.

You had a heart to heart about how it felt like you were doing a lot of things alone in your relationship and that you needed him to do a little more.

It was then that he told you how much he worried about things like diaper changes.

After you had a long talk about it, he revealed that he had no problem with those kinds of things. He just worried that it would affect the baby's development, to have a stranger around for intimate moments like diaper changes.

After that, he started to help more. He became stronger and stronger as a caregiver for your baby.

He would never be the baby's father. You both knew that. And Iida wasn't trying to be his father. All Tenya wanted was to love both of you for as long as he could.

Momo Yaoyorozu

You had a ten year old daughter when you and Momo started dating.

In fact, Momo met your daughter almost right away. She didn't have much of a choice because you had a really hard time finding childcare for her while you were away.

Your ex wasn't in the picture and didn't want to be. You didn't want them to be either. And your family didn't exactly raise kids the way you wanted your daughter to be raised. So it was just you and your daughter for the last ten years.

Until Momo came along.

She started out as just a really good friend.

Plus, now your daughter had someone else to look up to in her real life. Momo was smart and powerful, and you wanted your baby to have a woman in her life to look up to. Momo was perfect.

And then it became so much more than that.

Soon, Momo was over every single day. She picked up your daughter from school when you couldn't. She helped with homework and studying. She made dinner and taught your daughter everything she could about math and science and chemistry and hero work, everything she could get out of her system

And your daughter really didn't know how to feel about Momo because she just came on so strong all the time.

I mean, your daughter did like Momo.

It was just hard for her not to have some big feelings. She only had one real parent, and she didn't like any of her other family because of how mean they were all the time.

And Momo went from her parent's friend that sometimes tutored her to the person that sometimes steals her only parent.

And sure, it was cool to have a superhero as a stepmom.

But really your daughter missed the days when it was just the two of you.

When you noticed, you were heartbroken. You apologized over and over, and you promised your daughter that you could plan more days for just the two of you.

Momo was fully supportive of you having more alone time with your daughter. She knew it was important for your daughter to have that bonding time.

Momo just wasn't really sure how to react at the news that your daughter wanted her around less. She hadn't really considered how much she cared for you and your family until then.

Somehow, even though Momo knew how important it was for your daughter to have you as a support system, she still felt rejected and sad. She didn't want to leave you alone.

Momo pulled away for a while. Not because she was angry or anything, but because she didn't know how much space she was supposed to give you to be with your daughter.

Eventually, your daughter did start asking about her again.

"When is Momo coming back over?" she asked one time on the way home from school. "I miss her."

It took a long time, but you eventually learned to balance your time with Momo and your time with your daughter.

Shoto Todoroki

You took in your younger brother when your parents passed away.

You were happy to do so. The two of you had always been close, and you were happy to be the one who takes care of him.

But he was a bitter, emotional thirteen year old boy whose parents had just passed away. And there was nothing you could do to ease his pain.

You did everything you could think of. You started both of you in therapy. You spent quality time together. You made his favorite meals. You invited his friends over. But nothing consoled him.

He was mean and angry. He was sad and anxious. He insisted on being alone the majority of the time.

And you spent so much time trying to help him heal that you ended up isolating yourself.

That was when you met Shoto. He was a good shoulder to lean on. He was never judgmental of you or your situation. He always listened and never spoke until the time was right.

Todoroki also put you first, the way that you were never able to. And you fell in love with him months after your brother moved in with you.

You were extremely careful of the way you presented your relationship to Shoto to your brother. You thought it would be too quick of a change for him so soon after the last one.

Your worry actually led to you keeping it a secret for a little over a month.

It wasn't on purpose. You always meant to tell your brother that you had a boyfriend. But at first he just wasn't responsive to anything you said.

But then he met Shoto on accident.

Shoto went into your apartment to grab something you needed for work. It was only meant to be a quick trip to the apartment, and your brother wasn't meant to be there.

But he was. Your brother had skipped school. Apparently it's something he'd been doing for a while. He would just walk home after you left for work.

Shoto found him, and they struck up a deal. Todoroki would teach him some skills in combat and he would avoid telling you about the skipping class if your brother would stop skipping school altogether.

Suddenly, Todoroki became best friends with your younger brother.

Your brother became more social, more active. He started talking to you again. He started getting better grades in school. He started joining you for family dinners.

And when you were finally able to tell your brother about the nature of your relationship with Shoto, it turned out that he already knew.

Apparently, he overheard you on the phone with Todoroki one night.

Todoroki became increasingly protective over your brother.

He took your brother to nightly training sessions to help him work off his emotions.

Your brother even convinced Shoto to try going to therapy himself, something he had considered but never actually went through with.

After that day, they started becoming closer. Almost brotherly, almost the relationship you knew Shoto was missing from his siblings.

You knew they both needed each other.

And Todoroki was so spoiling for the both of you. He took you both on trips. He bought you gifts for holidays. He took you to dinner and to his Pro Hero parties and banquets.

Every once in a while, he would work late, and he would refuse to come back to your place because he didn't want to wake up your brother.

And one day, when Todoroki had been at his own apartment for several nights after being on late night patrols, you heard your brother ask you from the other room, "When is Shoto coming home?"

And ever since then, the three of you became a happy family.

Mirio Togata

You and your daughter met Mirio in the park.

Your daughter had been just six years old. Her other parent had passed away when she was an infant.

Your parents lived far away, and your partner's parents couldn't bear to look at your daughter now that they'd had to bury their own child. And you couldn't really blame them because of how much she looked like her other parent.

It was just the two of you, you and your baby.

Mirio had brought is own daughter, one from a previous marriage.

Their divorce had been amicable, though his ex-wife had since made some poor life choices and was no longer able to visit or take his daughter on the weekends. So they spent their days visiting parks and playgrounds.

You met because your daughter had taken quite a fall off of the swings and scraped up her hands, and Mirio's daughter had helped her up. Mirio, then, helped her find you so you could bring her home.

You were thankful, and you took your daughter home after a brief exchange of niceties.

From then on, you always noticed him at the playgrounds you frequented. Your daughter became very good friends with his, and you found it in your best interest to become friends with Mirio.

The rest is history.

You found out that your daughters would be going to the same elementary school. And from then on, they did everything together.

Meaning that you and Mirio now did everything together, too.

Mirio was particularly doting on your daughter.

He would play with her whenever she asked, no matter how silly the game was.

He would give her piggyback rides into school.

He would nurture her whenever she needed loving.

But he also never neglected his own daughter. He made sure they still went out on their father-daughter dates to cafes and parks and playgrounds.

Watching him love the kids so much created a longing in your heart that was so strong you couldn't deny that you had feelings for him.

Eventually, things spiraled until the two of you were much, much more than friends.

You hadn't exactly explained anything to your daughters yet, but during a play date, they walked in on the two of you kissing.

It was innocent enough. Nothing got remotely steamy. But it was just an innocent moment.

You both startled when you heard "OoooooOOOOoooh!" from the two tiny voices peaking around the corner.

You all started laughing, and your daughters came bounding in the room. "You loooooove Mirio!" your daughter teased.

"Yeah, I guess I do!" you said with a smile, looking at him lovingly.

Mirio was just as doting and loving on your girls as he had been the entire time.

A couple of months into your relationship, you discovered that you were pregnant. And then a few months later, you welcomed a new baby boy into the family.

At first, your girls were so loving and doting on their brother. They "helped" feed him, change him, and bathe him, which really meant just talking to him and giving him lots of kisses.

But you could tell that something with your own baby girl had gone awry.

She would cling to you all hours of the day. She always wanted to be cuddling you, right by your side every minute of the day.

Eventually, she let it slip that she thought you and Mirio loved the new baby most.

You decided that you had to do something. Your baby had to know that you loved her just as much as the rest of the family.

So you set up a special time after the baby was laid down for bed at night where you all did something together.

Sometimes you'd watch a show and cuddle under blankets on the couch. Sometimes you'd play board games together. And sometimes you would take turns reading parts of books.

You each took your girls out on solo adventures whenever you could, making sure to spend time with them just as you did one another.

You did your best to make sure that your family unit all felt loved the way they deserved.

Hitoshi Shinsou

Shinsou actually met your eight year old son first.

You had been holiday shopping on one of the busiest nights of the year.

You knew you shouldn't have brought him with you. You knew you should've just waited until your parents could watch him.

But now, here you were, frantically running around the shopping center, waiting for your eyes to lock with his.

You couldn't help but shame yourself while you searched for him.

First, you got pregnant in high school. You knew you weren't mature enough to have a child, and all of this proved it. You were still a child yourself. You had no business raising a kid all on your own.

And then you saw it.

You saw your son being led through the crowd with a man with purple hair, and you finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Fast forward to a year and a half later, and you and that man were moving into the same apartment.

Shinsou had proven to be an amazing parent, even if he really hadn't seen himself as a parent before.

He knew he wasn't really the "step-dad" type, and he never pretended to be.

He just wanted to care for you and your son as much as possible.

Hitoshi really struggled at first.

Sometimes, when he was over, he just couldn't understand why he could wake you up in the night with some love and affection.

Eventually, you explained that your son's face was peacefully sleeping on the other side of the wall between your bedrooms. "What the hell would you do if he walked in, 'Toshi?" you had eventually asked.

The look on his face seemed like he'd seen a ghost when you asked.

It took him a long time to get used to the schedule, too.

You and your kid got up so freaking early.

And yeah, he knew it was for school. But that didn't mean he wasn't grumpy about the alarm buzzing on your bedside table at six every morning.

One morning, though, he had been awake when your son had woken up from a nightmare.

You would have been happy to wake up and be there for your son. But Hitoshi also knew this was his chance to really bond with him in a way he hadn't been able to. So he got up and led your son into the kitchen.

Hitoshi took the time to heat up some milk with honey and cinnamon mixed in, just like in that movie he had watched with you and your son recently... Oh, what was it called?... He couldn't remember.

They talked about the dream. Shinsou told your son all the ways that he remembered to be brave when he was afraid.

And ever since then, your son went to Shinsou for everything. It was like he was obsessed with your boyfriend.

Ever since then, they were best friends, always getting into one thing or another together.

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raya-rhaenyra-ahsoka · 4 months

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My thoughts on Ep. 4 - I Plunge to My Death, A rant

First off, Sally and baby Percy scene was so cute. I swear to god, no one will ever top Sally Jackson for being the best mortal parent in the series.

That Percabeth bonding scene in the train. Bruh, I cannot wait for the Kindness International truck and Waterland scenes.

Annabeth opening up about her Dad and Percy utterly shocked that not all mortal parents are like his Mom.

Frederick’s college ring on Annabeth’s necklace. To non book-readers, yes, that's her Dad's name.

Annabeth having to earn Thalia’s respect.

Luke caring for Annabeth right away just makes it more gut-wrenching and heart-breaking with what he’s about to do. (SPOILER ALERT) “Family, Luke. You promised.”

Grover being super grouchy when he doesn’t get enough sleep. And as someone in their twenties, I totally could relate to him.

This convo:

Percy : Can I ask a dumb question?

Annabeth: It's like you need me to make fun of you.

That's it, that's their relationship.

Mentioning the god of the wild, Pan, and that there are searchers for him.

How that convo basically went:

Train Cop: I don’t think you wanna take that tone with me, little girl.

Annabeth: EXFUCKINGCUSE ME?

Grover: Annabeth, no-!

Echidna calling the cops on 3 minors, just screams typical Karen behavior.

The St. Louis Arch being an actual temple of Athena is a nice change from Annabeth just wanting to go sightseeing.

This convo:

Percy: You've done more for me in the past few days than my father has done in my entire life. If I had to stick with someone, I-

Annabeth: Careful, I think you were about to call me a friend.

Percy: *stumbles because of the poison from the stinger*

Annabeth: *catches him*

Again, that’s their relationship.

Annabeth and Grover splashing water at Percy at a fountain when there’s a big-ass river nearby. Idk, but I find that funny.

Athena letting Echidna and the Chimera into the Arch because it wounded her pride? OH, HELL NO!

Athena’s Logic: Punish her devotee because someone close to them did something that wounded her pride. Medusa=Poseidon; Annabeth=Percy. She didn’t even gave a f*ck that the devotee in question is her own daughter. WTF, ATHENA!

I always thought Zeus has the crown for being the deadbeat absent godly parent, but Athena is slowly giving him a run for his money.

Annabeth deciding to sacrifice herself so Percy and Grover can continue the quest. WTF!

Percy tricking Annabeth into taking the final stand himself. Dude, your fatal flaw is showing.

Annabeth having to deal with a forbidden child sacrificing themselves for her safety AGAIN (With Thalia, and now Percy). Girl must be traumatized.

Grover having to go through it again as well.

The Chimera being terrifying than how non clear-sighted mortals see it.

Poseidon “always been here/so hard for me to stand back” Daddy to the rescue.

This:

Percy: *gets stuck underwater*

Nereid: It’s okay. You father sent me-

Percy: Oh, hell no! *tries to swim harder*

Percy only now realizing he can breath underwater. Like, of course, he can. He's Poseidon's kid.

We're only in Episode 4 and it's already so good. Can't wait for the episode 5.

#pjo tv show #pjo tv series #percy jackson spoilers #percy jackson tv series #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #luke castellan #thalia grace #frederick chase #sally jackson

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vanteguccir · 3 months

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destructive home | m. sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Matt helps Y/N get through an anxiety attack.

Requested?: Yes, on Wattpad.

Warning: Anxiety attack, panic attack, toxic home, toxic father, fighting between parents.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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Y/N closed her eyes tightly feeling her head spin from the loud voices coming from downstairs. Unfortunately, her parents fighting was nothing new, and even less so was her father starting the fight.

Y/N's father has always been the type of father who is physically present but emotionally absent, living in the same house as the girl since her birth, but never really playing the role of a kind and welcoming father.

Quite the contrary, her father has always been a very demanding and controlling man, Y/N having witnessed his first attack of stress when she was just a week old, when her mother cooked lunch for both of them, but couldn't bear to eat everything on her plate due to the exhaustion of being a first-time mother, and her father started a series of screams demanding that she eat all the food, after all "he pays the house bills and the food in the cupboard and refrigerator and didn't want to see anything being wasted", ignoring completely the scandalous crying of the little girl, who understood nothing at the time.

And it was exactly in an environment like this that Y/N grew up, learning that staying silent all the time at home prevented fights from reaching huge peaks, but suffering the consequences with the fights inside her head, which grew more and more. With all of this, the girl ended up developing panic attacks and severe anxiety, which she only discovered through a quick diagnosis from her school psychologist, as her father refused to pay for a consultation for her and her mother did not have enough money to do it.

Y/N grew up with constant fights outside and inside her head, experiencing the most bitter moments inside her own home, where she had to face her anxiety attacks alone on the floor of her room, muffling the loud sounds of her sobs with pillows.

But whoever was listening to her cry through all this time, listened to her prayers and sent an angel into her life. Y/N met Matt two years ago in a cafe in the city completely by accident, the barista at the cafe ended up getting confused with their orders and handed Matt's to Y/N and vice versa, the two only realizing it after the first sip.

And since then Y/N no longer had to face her fears alone, her refuge in difficult times stopped being her cold and lonely bed and became Matt, with whom she could lean on in all the sad and happy moments too, and the best thing being that she, having experience with herself, could help him with his own anxiety attacks, the two of them moving towards a better mental place together.

But despite the willpower to improve and all the effort, there were days when it became more difficult. Y/N had woken up that morning with a bitter taste in her mouth and a heavy head, feeling like something was going to happen, and she wasn't wrong.

The day went by with a heavy air, the girl staying at home all day since it was a Sunday and Matt spent the day filming with his brothers the podcast that would be posted the next day, and all the weight that lived in the walls of her house seemed to have been transferred to Y/N's back, she couldn't remember the last time she felt that, and the fact that she wouldn't see Matt that day only made it worse.

At the end of the day Y/N understood why she woke up with the heavy feeling. Her mother was cooking something in the kitchen for dinner that would be served soon, which the girl was sure she would just grab a plate and go up to her room to eat alone, but during the process of making the food, her mother let some glass escape from her hands, making a thunderous noise.

Y/N was startled by the sound, getting up and running downstairs without thinking, just worried about her mother and wanting to understand what had happened, but while the girl calmed her mother who seemed in shock over the broken plate, her mind began to scream danger.

Seconds later the sounds of heavy footsteps became present and it didn't take long for the male screams to be heard, her father releasing several curses along with insults towards her mother and, consequently, towards herself as well.

Y/N felt numb, her father's voice becoming a background sound as a buzzing settled in her head. The girl wasted no time and ran upstairs, all she wanted was to get away from the fight.

It didn't take much more than a minute and she found herself closing the door with a bang, throwing herself on the floor next to her bed and curling up in a fetal position, her throat making horrible sounds as she tried to draw in air, which never seemed to come enough.

Her heart was beating fast and her hands were shaking tirelessly.

In a moment of sanity, the girl crawled to the end of her bed to get her phone, thinking about the only one who could help her at the moment. Her fingers raced to the emergency contacts, seeing only one in the listing, Matt.

She quickly clicked it, putting it on speaker and dropping the phone on the floor.

"Hello my love, we're almost done here. I was thinking about calling you next, what do you think about... Y/N?" The boy answered with a smile in his voice, stopping talking when he noticed a sound like a strangulation in the background. "Y/N? Baby, please, what's going on?" He asked desperately, standing up quickly from his seat in the recording room on the other side of the phone, fully gaining his brothers' attention.

The girl couldn't respond, barely able to hear him properly, her mind just processing that she needed air, her eyes closed tightly as she felt as if her room was shrinking in size around herself.

"Baby stay with me, I'm coming, I'm coming. Stay with me..."

The male voice seemed to come and go in Y/N's ears, and what took less than 10 minutes seemed to take hours in her fragile mind. The sound of her bedroom window opening echoed through the room as Matt entered the pink-walled room after climbing the roof of the two-story house, already used to the action.

The boy quickly ran towards his girlfriend, throwing himself on the ground, kneeling next to her and hugging her tightly, trying to bring her mind back.

"I'm here, baby. I'm with you." He whispered incessantly against Y/N's ear, feeling her smaller body tremble against his. "Baby, I need you to take a deep breath for me. Stretch, come on." He spoke, helping her straighten her spine and stretching her legs, leaving her sitting in an L-shaped position. "Can you breathe through your nose for me?" Matt asked, watching carefully his girlfriend's face, feeling his heart tighten at her state, her lips trembling, her cheeks hot and rosy, her face tense and her eyebrows furrowed.

Y/N tried to do as requested, finally being able to identify her boyfriend's voice, but the action seemed to lead nowhere.

"Come on, my love, I know you can do it." He asked in a whisper, feeling his eyes burn with tears. Upon seeing Y/N's difficulty in fulfilling the request, he quickly approached and sealed her lips tightly, briefly remembering when the girl did the same to himself during one of his worst crises.

Y/N stood still, her hands still shaking and her heart beating hard, but her mind seemed to contain itself and the loud noise inside her fell silent.

The girl felt tears roll down her face, opening her eyes, her vision slowly getting used to everything after being in the dark for several minutes. She calmly pulled away from Matt, drawing a breath of air into her lungs, feeling relief at being able to do so.

Y/N looked at her boyfriend's face, seeing him smile in relief as tears rolled down his own eyes.

"Don't cry." She asked weakly, pulling him into a tight embrace, pressing her cheek against his, their tears mixing together.

Matt let out a tearful laugh, sniffling as he brought one of his hands to Y/N's hair, stroking the spot.

"I'm just glad you're okay."

"Thank you Matt." She thanked him, hearing him sigh happily. Y/N snuggled closer into Matt's arms, still not having the strength to get up from the floor and he didn't seem to want to do so yet either.

"I love you so much, my love." He whispered a few minutes later, kissing the top of her head. Matt slowly moved back after getting silence in response, looking at his girlfriend only to see her with her eyes closed and breathing lightly, sleep having taken over her weak body from the intense moment.

The sound of two knocks on the door made him look up, looking intently to the door and ready to protect his girl if necessary, but relief filled his heart when he saw that it was Y/N's mother.

The woman had her face between the door and the frame, ready to check if her daughter was okay after the mess in the kitchen, but her worried features were replaced by a soft smile when she saw her daughter and her boyfriend cradled together.

"Thank you." She whispered truthfully to Matt, earning a nod before carefully closing the door.

The mother walked towards her own room with a light heart, knowing that Matt would do anything to take care of and see her daughter well.

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snowfll · 5 months

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Forever Winter; Treech

pairing - victor!Treech x district7!reader summary - after Treech wins the 10th Hunger Games, he returns home but he isn’t the same boy you knew before. words - 1.58k warning - allusions to suicide and depression. note - I'm so sorry this took me forever to get out, finals are coming up and I am stressing. I have a treech fic coming out on wattpad soon, so go follow me @ snowfll.

The moment his name was called in the reaping, your entire world froze. You both were 18; it being the last year there was a chance either of you were chosen to be tributes. You thought you were safe, that the two of you would be able to live the rest of your lives in peace—well, as peaceful as you can get in District 7. You were wrong—very wrong.

“Now, time for the male tribute,” the mayor called out as he stuck his hand into the second bowl. “Treech.” Everything in the district went silent; the only thing heard was your gasp, which soon turned into tears.

His eyes were on you the entire time as he walked up the stage—it felt like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. As he stood there, the weight of the impending separation hung heavy in the air. That was the last time you saw him in person; as soon as the reaping ended, he had been dragged off the stage by peacekeepers.

For the next few days, you couldn’t bring yourself to go to work; instead, you found yourself sitting in front of one of the few TVs in the district. After being told they would show the games on live television this year, you prayed to see even a glimpse of him.

When the tribute interviews came on, you were finally able to see Treech. He looked paler and skinnier than usual, and he had a sad expression on his face. Looking around, he saw the camera pointing directly at him and began to fidget with his hat, the one you had gotten him a few years prior to keep the sun out of his face when working.

He wore it every day, claiming it was his good luck charm and comfort object. You noticed he would play with the rim whenever he was nervous or he was the main focus of a conversation. Treech never liked attention—opting to hang out with you in a secluded part of the forest as opposed to being with his large group of friends.

“So, let’s talk about your life back in District 7. You’ve caught the eyes of many capital ladies in your short time here.” The man, known as Lucky, paused as the crowd began to scream for Treech. “We are all wondering, and when I say that, I mean everyone—is there a special lady waiting on you back home?”

"Uhh, there is this one girl, but we aren’t together—yet. She is amazing, truly. If there is one thing that can motivate me through the games, it would be her.” You smiled, knowing he was talking about you. He was never interested in other girls, no matter how many times they tried to get with him. Lucky thanked him before welcoming the next tribute on stage.

The following morning marked the first day of the Hunger Games, and you refused to watch; you couldn’t watch as he fought for his life. You had nightmares, starting the day he left—watching the games would just confirm everything you saw.

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When you heard the news, you were ecstatic—he did it; he won. The prospect of him returning to the district that very day filled you with a sense of exhilaration. Anticipation built as you made your way to the train station, the sound of the train arriving growing louder with each step. The atmosphere was filled with a mix of emotions—relief, nervousness, and agitation.

Although this was bound to be a happy moment, you couldn’t help but realize the lack of people who came to greet him. The only people around were the peacekeepers standing guard and his younger sister, Talia, whom you brought along as a surprise. Treech was very close with Talia; with his parents having to work all day, they were absent most of their lives. This left him to take care of both himself and his sister.

As you caught sight of him, you took notice of the train, which seemed to be one owned by the capital rather than the ones used by the districts. The condition he was in was worse than you last saw in the interview. He wore new and improved clothing that bore the unmistakable mark of Capitol fashion—his lucky hat still on his head. The scars of the arena were evident as he was bandaged up in all kinds of places.

Approaching him, you could see the fatigue etched into his features—a weariness that went beyond his physical wounds. Once he saw you, he ran into your arms, taking off his hat as his head fell into the crook of your neck.

“Everything is okay; you are safe now,” you reassured him, playing with his hair in an attempt to calm him. The weight of his exhaustion seemed to lift slightly in the security of your arms, the familiar touch offering comfort amid the distress of the games.

Talia stood nearby, her eyes wide with awe and concern. The two of you shared a glance, silently acknowledging the shared responsibility felt toward Treech’s well-being.

Gently pulling away from the embrace, Treech’s eyes met yours, filled with gratitude and longing. With a tender smile, you motioned for Talia to join in the reunion. She approached the two of you cautiously, as if afraid to ruin the moment between the older ‘couple’ in front of her. Yet, as Treech brought her into a protective hug, her smile grew—she had her brother back.

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Everything from that day on was perfect—or at least that's what it seemed like. Treech walked around with a smile on his face, like nothing ever happened. His laugh was normal; no matter how hard the day was, his symphony-like laugh always managed to cheer you up. You should’ve known something was wrong—how could you not know?

You found yourself observing him more closely, trying to distinguish the subtle shifts in his demeanor. Late at night, when the district fell silent, he was awake, wishing it was how it used to be before the games.

One evening, as the two of you walked through the familiar forests, you found the courage to check up on him. “Treech, are you really okay? I mean, with everything that went down. It’s okay if you are hiding your feelings; you can trust me."

He paused, his smile seeming to fade, before he replied, “I have a feeling I am going to feel this way forever. It’s not just a phase.”

You wondered how you hadn't seen it earlier—how the façade of normalcy had masked the emotional turmoil that lay beneath the surface. The entire time, you thought he was fine, living his life as a victor, when in reality he was breaking down.

From that moment on, your commitment to Treech deepened. Days were spent deciphering the intricate puzzles in his head. Once you started to spend the nights at his, you really noticed what was happening.

The quiet darkness of his room served as a canvas for the grim thoughts that occupied his mind. On the bed beside him, you were sound asleep as he sat restlessly against the headboard. As dawn approached, you woke up to find him in the same position he was in before he fell asleep—he was motionless.

Scared something happened to him, you shook his body, ultimately waking him up from his trance. His eyes, glazed over with a distant emptiness, gradually refocused on the room around him.

You spoke softly, the concern evident in your voice, “Treech, are you okay? What happened?”

He hesitated as if struggling to find the right words to convey the complexity of his emotions. Finally, he let out a heavy exhale, one that carried the weight of the night. “I… I don’t know. It’s just… hard, you know?” In that instant, the vulnerability in his confession broke down the wall that kept you at a distance.

Gently, you reassured him, "You don’t have to carry this burden alone. I will love you even at your darkest, so please don’t go.” You don’t know what you would do without him; his few days of absence have already taken a huge toll on you. Even while having him back, you still fall to pieces on the floor if he isn’t around.

The sincerity in your voice seemed to pierce through the fog of his inner turmoil, offering a lifeline in the face of the darkness that threatened to consume him. His hesitance around you melted away, replaced by a shared understanding that you were in it together.

“You don’t know how much you mean to me,” Treech confessed, his voice filled with the same vulnerability he had a few moments ago. “I don’t want to go. I need you more than you can imagine. You brighten up my day—like the sun shining down through the trees.” With those words, you wrapped your arms around him, drawing him into a comforting embrace.

From that day onward, your connection deepened. Your love, like the gentle rays of a summer sun, thawed at the icy remainders of his nagging memories. There were still difficult days and haunted nights, but the assurance that he wasn’t alone in the journey provided him with the power to push through. The summer sun, your sun, illuminated his path, casting away the shadows of his past and lighting up your future, where your love went beyond even the darkest of winters—his forever winter.

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cooliestghouliest · 4 months

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PUTTY, chapter two

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve got a thing for Eddie. Eddie’s got a thing for you. You both just continue to use Olly as an excuse to spend more time stealing glances at each other, until you realize you’re the one who’s gonna need to do something about it.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.1k+

TAG LIST: @emma77645

—

The night ended with Eddie sprawled out on his back against the hard ground, dark curls wet with sweat and face tinged pink from exertion. His little brother’s foot was on his chest, the heel of his tiny biker boot digging deep enough for Eddie to feel the weight of an indentation being made.

Although it would have been very easy to maneuver out of the hold Olly had him under, Eddie decided to call it a night and admit defeat. He was tired and hungry, but he knew the younger boy could probably last another hour or so out here, running off his endless childhood energy.

Eddie could not.

Eddie needed time to recuperate. He needed sustenance. Cold beer and concoctions of leftovers sitting in the fridge were calling his name.

Back in realtime, Olly raised his dull stick high in the air above his brother, ready to strike.

You, who’d disappeared into the trailer twenty or so minutes prior, came to Eddie’s rescue just as the makeshift weapon was about to make contact.

“Wait!” you called out, fingers moving to wrap around the bark, halting the boy. Olly looked nothing short of offended, mouth dropping at the audacity of his supposed Princess’ actions. You had to stifle a laugh at his expression.

“My dutiful nobleman, you’ve more than proved yourself to be a true warrior tonight. Buuuuut,” you sing-songed, brows lifting in suggestion. “Maybe we don’t slay the dragon. Maybe we keep him...” you paused for dramatic effect, dropping your attention to Eddie, “... as a pet.”

He probably shouldn’t have, and he didn’t know why he did, but Eddie really liked the sound of that.

“And we can make him do stuff for us?!” Olly exclaimed, his stick dropping to the ground immediately. The little boy loved the idea of having some sort of semblance of control over his older brother, even if it was all pretend.

“Sure,” you grinned, cheeks dimpling in amusement. You offered your hand out to Eddie to help him up as Olly ran around in circles, punching the air in celebration. Your tone was playful as you asked, “Right, Eddie? You’ll do stuff for us?”

Eddie thought he’d probably do just about anything you asked of him.

Jump off the highest cliff at Lover’s Lake? Right away. Run stark naked in the daylight down Maple Street? In a heartbeat. Never listen to another Dio album again for as long as he lived? Dio, who?

Play it cool, play it cool, Eddie thought.

He grabbed your hand, accepting the help, happy to have an excuse for any skin-to-skin contact he could get, and pulled himself back up into a standing position.

Making a show of clearing his throat, Eddie gave a deep bow, one hand pressed to his back as the other swirled in front of him. “Of course, my lieges,” he professed. “You’ve spared my life, and I am forever indebted to you.” Still dipped down, he rose his gaze to you, lips upturning. “Anything you want, my Princess.”

You bit the corner of your bottom lip, trying to stop your smile from growing too wide. You indulged yourself in a few more moments of silent eye contact before clapping your hands together and turning your attention to Olly. “Great!” you declared. “Now, Sir Olly, inside is a grand feast of garlic bread and spaghetti. I’ll be right in to help you wash your hands.”

The little boy let out an elated cheer and hurried around the side of the trailer, eager to eat a home-cooked meal for once. With Wayne working odd hours and Eddie not very skilled in the culinary arts, Olly was used to a cuisine of fast food or lunch meat sandwiches to fill his belly.

Aside from the yearly Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, that’s what Eddie had been used to as well. All his life.

His face softened at the realization that you’d actually cooked for Olly, and had cooked something of substance, nonetheless. You didn’t just throw a frozen dinner in the microwave or boil some Kraft mac and cheese, but you instead made a meal that required more than the most minimal of efforts.

Preoccupied by his thoughts, it took Eddie a few moments to realize you hadn’t yet followed Olly inside.

“You too, pet,” you said, curving your pointer and middle fingers at him in a ‘come-hither’ motion.

“You made some for me?” he asked, too shocked he was included in his little brother’s dinnertime to even register how you’d deferred to him. Pet. Had he realized, he would have had to grab Olly’s discarded cape to station directly in front of the zipper of his pants.

You weren’t Eddie’s nanny. There was no obligation to dote on his needs. Yet still, you had.

A distantly familiar warmth was beginning to spread throughout Eddie’s chest, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time bubbling right under the surface.

He didn’t have a chance to register just exactly what this feeling was before you answered. “You said anything I want, remember?” you reminded him. “And I want you to eat. Now come inside.”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You liked to follow a schedule and routine.

If you were left to your own devices 24/7 with ample free time, your lifelong nasty habit of overthinking would rear its ugly, judgmental head.

You aren’t doing enough, you’re doing too much, you should be back in school, you should be thinking about when you want to start a family, you should really try to put yourself out there more, you should try to stop coming on too strong, you should have more hobbies, you don’t make enough time for your family, you’ve changed, you shouldn’t be so stuck in your ways.

If you were being honest, the voice of your inner monologue sounded an awful lot like your mother’s.

Because of your adamant strife against letting your spiteful subconscious dialogue win, you made sure you were on the go or at least always had something to do to look forward to.

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday mornings were for Olly, while the nights were for PiYo, animal shelter volunteering, and secondhand store browsing. You coached two different cheerleading groups on Thursdays at the local YMCA, a morning class and an evening one. All day and night Friday were for Olly as well.

Saturdays were on-call for nannying, but Wayne typically had the day off, so you would often spend the afternoon hanging out with your sisters and then would spend the night suffering through dinner with your parents.

Sundays were the only day you allowed yourself to stay cooped up in your small apartment, usually with the distraction of a sci-fi or fantasy book, the genre intentional so you could get lost in a new universe for hours at a time.

You mostly looked forward to Fridays, because you knew Eddie would be home after three.

Technically, per Wayne’s initial briefing on your nannying schedule, you were able to go your own way whenever the older Munson brother got home. You suspected Eddie wasn’t aware of this, as he never mentioned it or asked why you always stuck around, so you’d continue to forego that bit of information in order to stay with no questions asked.

Eddie was none the wiser. He thought you were doing it to stretch out the hours you got to spend with Olly. It never occurred to Eddie you could also be trying to stretch out the hours you got to spend with him.

You would have lunch made for the three of you by the time Eddie got home from school. Then dinner would be served by six, the portion size enough so that there’d be leftovers for all the Munson’s later in the week.

Cooking was one of your favorite things to do. It was something you’d enjoyed since you were a child, when you’d spend the summer months in Turks and Caicos with your restaurant-mogul of a grandmother.

This is why, when Wayne lightheartedly mentioned to you once that you didn’t need to continue to spoil the Munson men with all of these different meals, you brushed it off and didn’t even for a second consider scaling back.

After dinner, you and Olly would typically watch reruns of Garfield or He-Man or one of his favorite three movies, whether it was Benji, The Muppet Movie, or Escape to Witch Mountain. Eddie would pretend to be busy with homework in the kitchen or would tune his guitar in Olly’s room with the door open, but really, he’d be watching you.

No matter how many times you’d seen the same episode or the same movie, Olly being a creature of habit and liking what he liked, you would be just as engrossed as the first time, eyes unwavering from the story unfolding before you on the small television screen.

Luckily for Eddie, this meant he didn’t have to worry about your attention diverting from the living room and finding him almost hypnotized by your every move.

He couldn’t help it, and in the secrecy of the shadowed kitchen or hidden halfway behind Olly’s bedroom door, he didn’t even want to try to hide it. He wanted to indulge himself.

Just like you, Fridays had also become his favorite day of the week, and not only because school was out for the following two days.

Friday was Eddie’s day to study the curve of your neck as you pulled your hair up in a messy bun while cooking dinner. It was his day to store to memory the high-pitched giggle that came from you at a funny joke in The Muppet Movie (one you’d had to have heard at least a hundred times by now). It was Eddie’s day to watch as your eyes grew heavy, blinking closed for minutes at a time here and there, head lolling gently against the armrest of the couch you were spread out on, surely exhausted from a long week of chasing his rambunctious little brother around.

Yeah, Eddie loved Fridays.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie frequently took smoke breaks outside on the small porch of the trailer. You, typically busy keeping his energetic brother happy, had never followed him out before. That didn’t stop Eddie from sometimes imagining you sitting next to him on the loveseat in the front yard, talking late into the night about serious shit and stupid shit and all the other shit in between.

In his head, he’d tell you about Hellfire’s newest campaign, and you’d listen intently, chin in your palm, head tilted toward him to take in every word he was saying. He’d tell you about what a hard-on Higgins had for him this year. Then you’d tell him about the Pilates classes that he’s seen you in at Starcourt, and maybe you’d teach him a move or two. You’d vent about some asshole you’d run into during your day, which would cause Eddie to simmer with rage when thinking someone in this world would be anything but gentle with you.

Eddie wanted those conversations. He’d get so lost in those imaginary scenarios sometimes that the cherry of his cigarette would start to burn his fingertips because he’d smoked it down past the filter, distracted, mind off somewhere in another reality.

And then one night, as if he’d finally manifested it, you did follow him out.

He’d been leaned against the side of the trailer with the roach of a joint between his lips, flicking a lighter absentmindedly.

“Ed?”

Surprised at your voice, the lighter flung from his fingers and his body jolted up off the paneled surface of the mobile home.

You stifled a laugh at his reaction, taking a few steps closer as Eddie bent over and began scrambling in search of the Zippo he’d flung. “Olly ditched me for bedtime. Want some company?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah, definitely. Totally don’t... I don’t mind. I would, um, I’d very much like it...”

So smooth, Munson, he thought to himself, fingers finally finding the lighter. Modern day wordsmith you are. Beyond charming.

You smiled, finding each and every one of Eddie’s mannerisms as endearing as the rest. You liked how sometimes he’d stumble over his words when you spoke to him, and you especially liked how flustered it made him when your attention was fully on him and nothing else.

Didn’t that have to mean something?

You’d seen Eddie in action in public before. He wasn’t shy or timid, so there had to be a reason he acted that way with you, right? Maybe the feelings you’d had for him for years now were reciprocated.

Tonight, you decided you were tired of only hoping this was the case, and you were on a secret mission to finally find out for sure.

You made your way to the loveseat a few feet away. You sat crisscross, the weathered fabric lightly scratching at the skin of your legs. “Sit with me.” You patted the empty space next to you.

Eddie breathed in deep and forced his legs to move toward you before he could second-guess himself, plopping his full weight down on the sofa beside you.

Much to his surprise, without a word, you plucked the small remnants of the joint from his lips and grabbed the lighter from his hand. He watched in awe as you lit it and breathed in. You let the smoke billow in your lungs before you leaned your back against the cushioning of the loveseat, relaxing into it with an exhale.

When you glanced back at him, Eddie looked incredulous.

“Wait, wait, wait -- you smoke weed?”

You laughed and inhaled another smaller hit before passing it over to him. Eddie took it and matched your hit, a quick in and out, eager for your answer.

“I’m full of surprises, Eddie,” you informed, matter-of-factly. “You know, I’d always sit inside and wonder if you’d ever invite me out here with you. But,” you offered a pout and Eddie wanted to bite your lips, “you never did.”

He took a moment to study your face. It was dark outside, probably nearing nine-thirty by now, but the glow from the streetlamp near the trailer was a golden halo around you, illuminating the shape of your face, the softness of your hair, the warmth in your eyes.

“I didn’t know you’d wanna come out here with me,” he defended.

You made a ‘psh-ing’ noise with your mouth. “Come on, Munson. I practically fawn after you whenever you leave the room. Always waiting for you to turn around and see me.”

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He laughed, the noise sounding more like a scoff. “Yeah, right.” He took one more hit off the joint before leaning over to stamp it out in the ground, pocketing the paper to toss later.

Eddie Munson was not a litterer.

“I’m not lying!” you exclaimed, bringing your hand out to playfully shove at his shoulder. “I really like spending time around you.”

He felt like all the air was forced from his lungs at your admission. “You’re really serious?” he asked, voice quiet. Not that he necessarily thought you were fucking with him -- you’d never given him a reason to believe you were mean-spirited like that -- but Eddie was so used to things he wanted not working out for him, or things that seemed too good to be true actually being too good to be true. In this instance, he fleetingly and insecurely thought maybe he was the butt of some joke. Have the Princess fake fall for him only to break his Freak heart for fun.

You were very serious, but you chose not to answer him directly. You had a feeling offering only words wasn’t going to cut it. “Wanna come to a party with me when Wayne gets home? I told Chrissy I’d stop by. I’d like it if you came with.”

Eddie balked at her. A party? A party that popular, real-life Barbie doll Chrissy Cunningham would be hosting? That did not sound like a place for the likes of himself, unless he was invited to sell. He liked Chrissy, she was nice to him, but her friends, which also unfortunately happened to be your friends from high school, were not.

“I don’t know... Parties aren't really my kind of thing...”

“Please, Eddie,” you asked, eyes going round and voice beseeching. He had to stifle a groan at the soft solicit coming from you. You sounded so desperate for your wish to be granted. Your wish for him to spend time with you. Eddie loved hearing your voice in general, but hearing it like that? Music to his ears. Like a Sabbath song if sung by a super smokin’, staunchly sweet angel.

He chewed on his lower lip, weighing his options.

This could all be a rouse to embarrass him in front of the masses at some jock-packed party, further pinning him as a lovesick, gullible idiot — a laughable loser who thinks he’s got the girl in the bag.

But he really, really didn’t think you would do that.

You cooked for him. You cleaned his rings once with baking soda that time Olly had taken them and buried them in the mud as a prank. You sometimes helped him with calculus. You’d play with his hair if he sat in front of you while watching sitcoms. He thought you did that last one absently. You did it very much intentionally.

What fun was life if you weren’t taking chances?

Eddie was typically more of the adventurous type anyway. Maybe he would have a good time. Doubtful, knowing where the party was, but begrudgingly possible, knowing he’d have you by his side.

He mentally rolled a die in his head for courage.

Eddie Munson was not afraid of what people thought about him. Deep down inside him, sure, yeah, it didn’t feel great that his neighbors thought he ritually sacrificed goats or kept body parts hidden under his bed. But to the public, Eddie knew people thought he was confident and unbothered, if also insanely eccentric.

He needed to be that Eddie right now.

Eddie imagined the die bouncing on the long wooden table in the drama room at school, where Hellfire commenced. Hellfire. Those guys thought the world of him. Dustin would be smacking him in the back of the head right now for even hesitating to go to a party with a pretty lady.

The die stopped rolling.

Henderson’s face was there in lieu of numbers.

Good enough.

“Party it is, Princess.”

The grin that spread across your face made him forget all about everything in the entire world. He’d waited months now for you to look at him like that. All wide-eyed and deeply dimpled cheeks

When you threw your arms around his neck in a feat of success, Eddie felt invincible.

If you were hanging on him like this, how could this night possibly go wrong?

#eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson

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reticent-writer · 11 months

Note

Hi Can I Ask for a Scenario of the Hashiras (Apart from Rengoku, Shinbou) With Their Father Figure Discovering They Are Blood Relatives and Being Their Real Father.

Which Was Separated From Them. I'd Love To See Sanemi Discovering That The Monstrous "Father" He Had Isn't The Real One And Obanai Discovering That His "Family" Stole Him From His True Parents And The Fact Of Obanai Discovering He Was Loved By His Real Parents.

They Deserve So Much Love Please.

I've had this picture for a while and been wanting to use it.

An: for fathers figures I go with their occupation from other fics.

Mitsuri's ff is a Baker. Giyuu and Rengoku's is a retired hashira. Shinobu's is a doctor. Obanai, muichirou, sanemi and tengen are people from their past.

demon slayer master list

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

Sanemi

When Sanemi was younger you would constantly visit him and his siblings, oftentimes helping his mother with his "father" when he was drunk. Sanemi and his siblings were yours.

You hated seeing how Kyogo would treat your kids, but you vowed not to say a word because Shizu did not want to tell him that they weren't his.

Unfortunately, you weren't there when tragedy struck.

You came clean when everything settled down. Genya was ecstatic but Sanemi was about to beat your ass.

"You let us deal with that asshole for YEARS and said NOTHING!" He screamed as he pounded on your chest.

"I'm so sorry, Your mother swore me to secrecy. I wanted to tell you so bad." You said, catching his wrists as he tried to punch you. You could barely see his frustrated and tear-stained face right before he pushed it into your chest.

This poor 14-year-old boy had lost his mom and siblings but at least now he has a proper father.

"I'm glad your my actual dad." He muttered as his arms fell limp.

"Me too."

Obanai

When Obanai was born he was immediately taken away from you and your wife, who unfortunately just passed from birth complications. Being in the infamous Obanai clan is hell on earth.

They didn't care that he was your son, what mattered to them was that he was the only born blood male of the entire clan.

(ya know when your family thinks that they are entitled to something you own just because they're family) Obanai grew up just thinking you were a father figure who called him son. You were always there for him especially when he was still in the clan's clutches. While he was with the clan you told him many stories, one of which is about your wife and that she was pregnant but had complications and died during labor, but you never said what happened to the baby.

Today you were watching him train, he looked a bit off, like he had something on his mind.

"Hi son, did you eat today?" You ask interrupting his training with bento boxes in hand.

"No."

"Come eat I made lunch." You beckon him over with a wave of your hand and he listened.

He sat next to you and asked, "What happened with your baby?

All you could do was look at him. It just came out of the blue. You were tongue-tied and didn't know what to say.

"My child?"

"Yeah, what happened to him? You never told me you always stopped the story after your wife died." He asked again. You had to tell him eventually, why not now?

"Well, my son was taken from me, but I still got to watch him grow up. Unfortunately, I couldn't save him from getting hurt. A snake demon didn't like his uniqueness and wanted to make him more like her, She had the clan slit his mouth."

Your words marrinated in Iguro's mind as he realized you narrated his childhood.

"I'm sorry I never told you. I was scared of your reaction."

He didn't respond, instead he scooted a little closer and laid his head on your shoulder and started to eat.

It felt like an entirety before he said something, "thank you... For everything."

Giyuu

You were absent for most of his life, he only knew you existed from letters you'd send him and his sister.

He didn't know what you did, where you lived or if you had a second family, so when he met you he didn't think you were his father. More like someone who looked out for him while he took your spot as the water hashira.

He only found out because he went to your house and found a picture of his sister on a offering table in a spare room.

"Hey who's this?" He asked and you walked into the small room.

"My daughter. I wasn't there to save her but my son is an excellent fighter, a hashira."

Giyuu just stared at you. His eyes starting to tear up

"Are you alright?" You tried to comfort him but he backed away and covered his face with his hands.

"I'm fine this room is just dusty."

"Okay." You chuckled and patted his back.

In a blink of an eye and turned to face you and hug you.

If any other Hashira were present they'd certainly tease him.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

#male reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #sanemi x reader #obanai x reader #giyuu x reader #reticent writes #reticent writer

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yandere-writer-momo · 3 months

Text

Yandere Baki Head Canons:

The One That Got Away

Yandere Doppo Orochi x Immortal Afab Reader x Yandere Katsumi Orochi

Loosely based off the Age of Adeline. I am so sorry Natsue Orochi, I love you baby girl. Please forgive me.

TW: Cheating, smut mentioned, fingering, and yandere behavior

The day Katsumi’s lover walked through the door, Doppo’s world came crashing down. What were you doing here and how did you look exactly the same as the day you disappeared?

“(Your name)?” Doppo asked you with wide eyes. He felt such a mix of emotions. Happiness, anger, sorrow, and betrayal were the most prominent but confusion clouded his mind. How were you still so youthful? You should have been nearing your fifties and you didn’t look a day past your twenties. There was no way…

“(Your name)? My name is (fake name), you must have me confused with my parent.” You nervously laugh which made Katsumi and Natsue glare at him. Who on earth was (your name)? They’ve never heard of this mysterious person before…

The four of them had dinner together but Doppo’s eyes were on (your name) the entire time. He couldn’t get rid of the feeling in his gut and he’s never been wrong before. Natsue noticed Doppo’s change in demeanor and shut down a bit. She knew he was in a relationship prior to her but she didn’t know the details of it… she’s heard before that a man never forgot his first love and it made her feel second best. Like Doppo settled for her.

Katsumi held your hand the entire time, his brow furrowed at his father’s strong gaze on you. Just who was (your name) and why was Doppo so insistent they were you? Whatever. You’re his partner and he wasn’t cool with his adopted dad being weird to you.

After the most awkward meal in history, Katsumi beamed at you. “Sorry my parents are awkward today. Usually they’re quite chatty.” Katsumi gave your hand a squeeze. “Why don’t we take a walk for a bit? That way they can talk.”

“Sounds good, Katsumi. Let’s go.” The two of you headed out and made sure to ignore the look Natsue gave Doppo. You should have realized Katsumi’s surname was the same as Doppo’s but Doppo was infertile. So how were you to know he had adopted a kid in the decades you had been absent? It wasn’t Katsumi’s fault nor was it Doppo’s that you were cursed with eternal youth.

Katsumi and you walked together. A frown on your face once you began to think. You’ve been with Katsumi for only a month and he already spoke of marriage… you couldn’t marry him or else the government would discover you… You’ve been stuck at the age of 25 for the last eighty years. How on earth could you give him the love he’d deserved?

“My family home is pretty nice, right?” Katsumi asked you with a big smile. “Would you want to live in a home like that? I make enough to have a big place…” You gave Katsumi a tight smile. Why on earth would he want such a big home for just two of you?

“Don’t you think it’s a bit impractical for just two of us?” You softly asked Katsumi who shook his head. His large hands scooped up yours as his eyes stared into yours.

“Well, I’d like to start a family after marriage. I think two kids would be good… maybe more!” Katsumi smiled brightly at you as he began to ramble. “I could see you nice and round with my kids… you’d be such a good mom. I notice how you longingly look at babies.”

You did your best not to frown immediately. Like father like son. Doppo had wanted to get married just ten weeks into dating while his son was even more impatient. Then again, normal humans didn’t live as long as you have. You were well over a hundred at this point and still not deceased. All because of a freak accident when you were young…

“So what do you say? Would you want that life with me too?” Katsumi asked you with big, puppy eyes, his hands squeezed yours. “I apologize for getting a bit ahead of myself. But you never know if I could be castrated in the fighting ring since the other fighters always go for the nuts…”

You stifled a laugh at his joke. Katsumi certainly wasn’t wrong from the fights you’ve seen in your many years on this earth. He could potentially become infertile, but that wasn’t your problem. Katsumi was simply a place holder to fill the bottomless hole in your heart that could never be filled. The never ending loneliness to your bizarre existence. One of many relationships you’ve had to try to ease the loneliness of eternal life.

“You have big dreams, I’ll certainly admit that.” You told your lover who only smiled at you. How could you ever be mad at a face like his? Katsumi was certainly one of the cuter men you’ve been with. And he wasn’t terrible in bed, a bit inexperienced, but not terrible.

Katsumi grabbed at your hip which made you jolt. “Easy there, tiger. We’re in the great outdoors.” The tow of you shared a laugh before you made your way back to his parents’ house.

Katsumi just gave you a wink. The two of you walked in to find the home empty. Katsumi smiled at you. “I think dad probably took mom out on a date to make her feel better. I’ll walk you home.”

You nodded your head a smiled. Perhaps you really didn’t have anything to worry about?

A few weeks had gone by and Katsumi invited you out to eat with his parents once more. You were a bit reluctant to accept, but you did.

And the dinner wasn’t nearly as awkward as the last one. Doppo and Natsue were much warmer this time. You felt relief wash over you. Thank god… you didn’t want to deal with a (currently) old man you once had a passionate love affair with.

The four of you somehow ended up drinking a few bottles of sake together to ‘melt the ice.’ Katsumi became ever more chatty the more he drank until he was nearly falling over himself while poor Natsue was already fast asleep at the table. Doppo gave you an apologetic smile as he carried her to their room. You, on the other hand, helped Katsumi to the couch where he passed out instantaneously. The poor guy’s cheeks were as red as the bottom of a baboon.

And right before you could leave, Doppo had walked over to you. His hands stuffed in his pockets and his brow furrowed. The eye patch and facial scars made him look much older than 56, but you didn’t want to ask for the stories on them. The two of you no longer had a relationship of any kind for almost three decades now…

Doppo grasped your hand and held it up to his eye. “These scars… I stitched this scratch on your hand twenty nine years ago in the woods when you went with me up the mountain to train.”

“I got these scars from cutting a vegetable-“ you squealed when his fingers pressed into your scar with anger.

“Don’t lie to me. I have a very specific way I stitch and it’s quite ugly.” Doppo clicked his tongue as he dropped your hand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name is (fake name)-“

“Do you take me for a fool?” Doppo asked you as he yanked your skirt up to reveal another scar you had on your thigh. “You got that when you were running about with me too. How are you still so young? You… why did you disappear?”

You glanced over at Katsumi who remained knocked out cold on the couch. It’s not like he was conscious to hear your conversation… “You see how I am… what I am.” You sighed and pinched your nose. “I cannot age. I can’t live a normal life-“

“And yet you’re with my son, Katsumi.” Doppo glared at you with his muscular arms crossed. “Are you going to leave him too? You took his virginity.”

So that’s why Katsumi was a bit clumsier in bed… and his unusual attachment with you. Now you felt like an even bigger piece of shit. “I… I don’t know-“

Doppo grabbed your forearms and leaned forward to press his lips against yours in a rough kiss. Your entire body freezes up at the contact in shock. What on earth?

Doppo pulled away with a sigh of anger. “I… did you know I wanted to marry you? I could have hid you away. I would have hidden you away. We could could worked something out-“

“It’s too many years late for that now.” You frown at him. “You’re married now. You have a family-“

“I just can’t believe you’re fucking my son…” Doppo shook his head. “You’re with my clumsy, arrogant son… you certainly have a type.”

You didn’t even think about how similar they were… Doppo used to be quite arrogant when he was younger too. Yet the years seemed to have made him more humble.

“I guess I do-“

“Does my son at least satisfy you. You used to be quite… hedonistic.” You nearly choked on your spit at what Doppo said.

“Are you saying I’m some sort of lust fueled monster?” You jumped when Doppo’s hands grabbed your hips and pushed your pelvis towards his. You felt a bit of electricity shoot up your spine when you felt something large press against you. You forgot how well endowed this older man was…

“For old time’s sake… don’t you want this one more time?” You whined when he ground himself into you. God dammit, you didn’t need this temptation. Especially not from your boyfriend’s father. “I know I’m packing more than Katsumi is and you also know I’m infertile… it won’t hurt.”

You bit your lip in thought. He wasn’t wrong about him being bigger than Katsumi. Doppo was one of the larger men you’ve slept with and you can count all the men you slept with on one hand.

And before you can even answer, his hand is shoved in the waist band of your pants. His fingers expertly stroke your damp slit as you shudder under his touch. God… Katsumi didn’t know how to touch you like this.

Doppo smirked at you as you leaned forward to grasp onto him as one of his thick fingers sunk into your greedy warmth. Your wanton moans were quiet as tears filled your eyes. You had forgotten what it was like to be fingers by someone who knew what they were doing…

“It feels good, right?” Doppo asked you in a hushed tone. His hot breath tickled the shell of your ear. “And that’s only my fingers… Just imagine what my cock can do.”

You feel a bit of drool drip from your mouth and onto his shirt. Your state of pleasure made Doppo smirk. Here you were once more… under him. Where you belonged.

“Let’s head somewhere more quiet, okay?” Doppo softly asked you as you melted into his arms. His thumb now stroked your clit as a second finger was added inside of you. You were practically dripping puddles on his palm. You greedy little whore.

And you were slept into the guest room. Doppo quickly undoing his pants while you lay on the futon with your bare ass bent high in the air for him to claim once more.

May Katsumi and Natsue forgive you for the sin you were about to commit… the sin of pleasure. A sin you hoped was only a one time deal.

Yet you weren’t aware that Doppo had other plans. Plans to share you between himself and his son. Who decided Katsumi would be the only one to feel that perfect, tight pussy? It’s not like Katsumi knew what to do… not like Doppo did.

You took a sharp inhale when Doppo gave a harsh slap to your rear. An angry hand shaped welt now on your bottom as the older man gave you a wicked smirk.

“Alright, princess. Don’t make a fucking sound.”

180 notes · View notes

peachhcs · 1 year

Text

The 5 times Neteyam loved you and the 1 time he said it.

Neteyam x fem!reader

Word count: 15.6k 😳

Summary: pretty self explanatory I think, but the 5 times Neteyam loved you and the 1 time he finally said it 😌

Warnings: near character death, talk of absent parents, gun & knife violence, blood

ITS FINALLY HERE!! THE LONG AWAITED 15k+ fic I took like a week to write 😭 This is cliche but I haven’t seen anyone else do this prompt before. I listened to the people and put this into one large fic, so I hope y’all like it!! The ending is..a little rocky, but it’s what you get after forcing myself to finish this. There is a prologue in this & I wasn’t originally going to include it, but I liked it too much to delete it from the story LOL

If you guys want a Lo’ak version, I have one in the drafts, but idk if that is something y’all want. My requests for fic ideas are open, so send some in if y’all want! Thanks for all the love!! (ps, not quite proof read so if there’s some spelling or grammatical errors my apologies)

MASTERLIST

PROLOGUE.

It was no doubt that you were an extreme pleaser. Growing up as the eldest sibling to your parent’s five, it was your job to stay in line. Set the example. Follow the rules. Be the golden child. It was the whole reason why you and Neteyam bonded so quickly when you met.

He knew how it felt to be the perfect one. You both carried the same burden, the same pressure, the same expectations set by your parents. All you wanted was to please them and get the praise you desperately craved.

You saw Neteyam for a few weeks now. It started one day in the woods when you were out exploring. Foana and Ni`awtu insisted going out into the forest. You knew being the eldest that you couldn’t possibly leave them to their own devices, so you reluctantly followed after them.

That same afternoon, the Sully kids decided embarking on their own expedition. The clan was so large and spread out in nearly every part of the forest that you hardly knew every single person. You knew of the Sully children and their great father Jake, the Olo’eyktan and Toruk Makto, however you did not know them.

Everything changed for you and your siblings that afternoon when Foana wandered off. You had no idea that a certain Sully boy would change the entire trajectory of your life that day.

You were distracted with admiring the beautiful flora that you didn’t even realize your younger sister disappeared. A tiny tug on your tail made you spin around, hissing at Ni`awtu standing shyly behind you.

“Ni, what do you want?” You answered annoyed that she interrupted your gazing. Seeing her little worried features made you scrap any annoyance you ever possessed in the first place.

“It is Foana. I do not know where she went.” The fear laced through the young girl’s voice. Your eyes shot up, now realizing that the youngest sibling was no longer around the two of you.

To make matters even worse, you only brought your knife with you expecting a quick and short trip.

“Ni`awtu, you were supposed to be watching her at all times. Argh.” You pushed past her, beginning to sniff out any possible trails Foana may wandered off on.

“I am sorry, sister. I swear, I thought she was right behind me.” The familiar wobble of Ni’s voice and her trembling hands told you she was close to tears. Sighing, you collected her into your arms.

“Do not worry, it is not your fault. We will find her.” Being the eldest meant you could not be mad at your little siblings for long. You also could not let them take the blame for things—even if it was their fault at times. That was just what came with growing up as the eldest. You took nearly all the blame.

The two of you walked the tree lines, scanning every possible inch for that little rascal. She hardly knew the forest like you, so she couldn’t have been too far. If anything, she was probably cowering underneath a leaf or behind a tree because she did not know where she was anymore.

Your ears perked up when you heard voices ahead. In a quick maneuver, you shoved your sister behind you incase it was a threat. Not many from your clan ventured this far out into the forest by the old shack. It was forbidden by the Olo’eyktan—so whoever was ahead couldn’t possibly be Na’vi.

There was a tiny laugh, though. It caught you off guard and your defenses fell for just a moment. There came another laugh, louder and one you recognized this time.

“Foana.” You muttered and ran ahead through the brush.

When you came through clearing, you grew surprised seeing your little sister playing around with another younger Na’vi girl.

“Y/N, look! I made a friend!” Little Foana sensed your presence and motioned towards the other little girl. She smiled up at you with a toothy grin.

“Foana, what in Eywa are you doing all the way out here? You do not wander away from me or your sister.” Your mom voice came out, loud and booming. The little one looked down in shame realizing she was in trouble.

“I am sorry, sister. I did not mean to. I just..I saw a flying lizard and had to follow it. I found her on the way.” She stuck out a thumb at other girl. Another sigh escaped your lips knowing she must’ve also strayed off her path and probably had people looking for her as well.

“Tuk! There you are! Why did you wander off?” A new voice entered the scene. She raced past you, scooping up the girl in her arms.

“Sorry, Kiri. I found a friend, though.” Tuk pointed at your sister who gave a similar toothy grin and a wave.

“It is okay, sister. Just make sure you tell someone next time, okay? Neteyam, I found her, it is okay.” You didn’t realized there was entire group behind you now. Two boys, no three boys, stood behind you. Two Na’vi and the singular human boy you knew lived around here.

“Tuk, I told you to keep up with us.” The shorter Na’vi boy went past you to ruffle up her little braids.

You hadn’t moved a single muscle since their sudden arrival. You were too awestruck in the way they comforted the girl. Neither of them showed any signs of anger or annoyance that she wandered off. It was so unfamiliar to you—all of that sincerity and comfort to one another.

“Oh, please excuse us. I am so sorry. I am Kiri. This is Tuk, Lo’ak, Neteyam, and Spider behind you.” The girl that came in first finally acknowledged your presence with a warm smile as she introduced what must’ve been her siblings.

“Oh, no need for apologies. I am Y/N. This is Ni`awtu and Foana.” You did a bow of greeting which your sisters quickly followed after.

“It seems as though our sisters have befriended one another. We were so worried when we realized she had wandered off.” Kiri laughed and pinched Tuk’s little nose. You smiled at the affection.

“Yes, us too. I was glad I found them both unharmed.” You pulled your sisters closer, trying to show a tiny bit of affection like the other siblings displayed.

“Let’s just be glad we didn’t need to call dad in. He would have beaten our asses if we told him we lost Tuk.” Lo’ak laughed and then his older brother smacked him on the head. The unfamiliar terms and use of some English words intrigued you. Not many Na’vi knew English besides the Olo’eyktan—obviously being from the sky.

You began putting two and two together. The five fingers of Lo’ak and Kiri. Lo’ak’s use of English phrases you didn’t quite understand. These were the Sully children. The Olo’eyktan’s kids.

“Oh my Eywa, I am sorry. You are children of the Olo’eyktan. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You rushed out, flushed you had not picked up on it beforehand. You bowed again, urging your sisters to do the same.

“Woah, we’ve never been greeted like that before.” Lo’ak snickered and the older boy hit his head again.

“Lo’ak, stop it. Do not apologize. We are Omatikaya as much as you are. It is really our father who gets bowed to.” The older one spoke to you in a kind tone that had your face heating up in a way it had never done before.

“Well, it is still a great pleasure to meet all of you.” He grinned at you. There was something igniting inside of you just looking at his smile. Something you had never felt before.

“Can Foana and I have a playdate sometime?” Tuk spoke to you, her little voice adorable as ever. However, you were unfamiliar with the term she used.

“Playdate means like a hang out.” Kiri must’ve seen your confusion. You quickly nodded.

“Of course, anytime as long as neither of you wander off again.” You joked some, smiling down at your little sister. She grinned excitedly.

“Perfect, you may bring her over anytime or we can bring Tuk over. She has been so excited to start making new friends ever since our parents allowed her to go out more.” Kiri was so soft spoken and so gentle. Her presence alone just made you feel so warm and welcomed.

“You could bring your other siblings, too. You have two others, right?” Lo’ak spoke up more. You quickly nodded, a bit surprised he even knew that. It wasn’t like your family was well known like they were.

“Tsanten and Naria.” You did not miss the way Lo’ak’s face blushed at the mention of Naria.

“Well, bring them all and even yourself, we love the company.” Kiri beamed and you couldn’t help but smile yourself.

You hardly received invitations out often. You were always busy taking care of your siblings, cleaning up, staying in, following your parents’ orders. It didn’t leave much room for fun and going out.

Neteyam was still glancing in your direction. He just couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from your pretty hair flowing loosely down your back, or the way your eyes lit up when Kiri extended the invitation to you and the rest of your siblings.

He knew of your family through passing here and there. You were the eldest, just like him, yet he never saw you out much. Either you were hidden away in your tent, or out hunting. He knew you were a hunter because Beyral spoke of your name often.

You intrigued him. He liked the way the confusion floated over your face when Lo’ak or Tuk used phrases you didn’t understand. He liked the protective nature you held over every single one of your siblings—similar to him. How you held them close to you. He wanted to know more about you. He wanted to make you smile again because it sent an unfamiliar feeling of butterflies in his stomach that he enjoyed.

He wanted more of you. If only the two of you knew what your future held.

ONE.

Neteyam was protective over everything in his life—his parents, his siblings, and now you. Being the eldest, especially to the Olo’eyktan, it was his job becoming the protector when his father wasn’t there.

He fought off anyone who poked fun at Lo’ak or Kiri for having five fingers. He made sure someone was with Tuk at all times when she went out to the forest. He helped his mother anytime she asked whether it was with food or his siblings.

There was no denying how similar the two of you were. It was what drew him to you. You held the same protective nature as him. You took care of your siblings the same way he did. You understood the burdens he carried because you held them high on your shoulders as well.

It was when the two of you were together that he could let go of everything, even if it was just for a little bit. When the day was done and everyone was sound asleep for the night, tucked safely into their tents was when the two of you snuck out to spend time together.

It was more of a private relationship for the time being. Being the next Olo’eyktan in line, Neteyam knew that if he told people he was seeing someone it would spread like wildfire across the village. People would start talking and they probably wouldn’t ever leave you alone once the word was out. He wasn’t sure if you wanted that on top of everything else and if he was being honest, he wanted you to himself just a little while longer.

His feet worked quickly jumping from tree branch to tree branch. The luminescent forest was his guiding light through the night and he took one final swing to his destination. When he got his footing, there you were right where you met almost every night.

Your back was slumped against the tree and you hadn’t noticed him yet, instead, your gaze was focused on the glimmering stars above. Every time, Neteyam was so in awe of you. He knew how stressed you were throughout the day having to do this and that, so seeing you here waiting for him in the most relaxed state gave him a sense of pride.

“Oh, hi.” You finally noticed his looming presence. The boy grinned, walking towards you.

“Hi, sorry I am late. I had to make sure Tuk was truly asleep for the night.” The sound of your laugh made his heart swell in his chest. He snuggled himself in beside you with his head resting on your stomach.

When you put your hands across his back, all of his muscles finally relaxed. The stress slowly dissipated and everything felt right being in your arms. During the day, he was a leader who held no fear. At night when he was with you like this, none of that mattered. He didn’t have to put on the facade for you.

“She never falls asleep on time. I think she is afraid she will miss out on something. Foana is the same way.” He hummed when he felt your other hand begin brushing through his braids.

“That explains why she is always following Lo’ak and Kiri around.” Your stomach rumbled with laughter again and the vibrations were so calming to Neteyam. If he could, he would have your laugh on repeat.

“Your training, how did that go today?” Another thing Neteyam adored about you was how you never failed to ask him about his day. Any detail he told you, you remembered and talked about it the next night. He had never been listened to like that before. It made everything inside of him feel warm and appreciated like he had a purpose.

“It was okay. I think dad is getting mad at me because I can not seem to understand things as fast as he wants me to.” Neteyam sat himself up so he could look at you properly. His back fell against the tree in the same way yours did, still keeping your bodies close.

“You will get it, do not worry. It takes time learning all the ways of the Olo’eyktan. Your father probably struggled as much as you did once.” You clutched his bicep to give it a comforting squeeze. Neteyam’s gaze fell away to the sky, though. His mind beginning to turn elsewhere.

“Yes, but he was already strong when he fell into the position. He was an adult already. I am merely a teenager still.” He heard you scoff beside him.

“You are just as strong, Neteyam. Do not tell yourself you are not. You are learning and your father just wants what is best for you.” You always knew what to say to him to make him feel better. His gaze finally fell back to you, your gentle gaze making his face blush.

“I think my parents are catching up to the fact that I may be seeing someone.” You giggled, looking away as you changed subjects. Neteyam, however, stiffened up at your words.

“What do you say?”

“Well, I just laugh it off and say I am not. They do not ask much more after that.” He could not read your expression because you weren’t looking at him. He didn’t know if you were upset you had to deny it or something entirely different.

He certainly wished he didn’t have to be so private about his personal life, but he was afraid his mother wound disapprove—not that there was anything to disapprove of you. It was mostly the others in the clan. People would start talking. They would start seeking you out. You would have to start learning the ways of Tsahik, maybe (Hopefully in his mind). He wanted to make sure you were completely comfortable to be put into such a spotlight like he was before anything was really said about the two of you.

“Neteyam? Are you alright?” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts. You were already looking at him when he met your pretty golden eyes.

“Yes, sorry. I was lost in thought.” He gave you a gentle smile to reassure you.

“About what?” You loved to pick his brain though. His expression twisted and he found the need to place his arm around you and pull you closer towards him. Your head fell absently against his chest.

“It is not important.” He had this thing where he would sometimes hide his emotions from you. He did not want to burden you with this one right now.

“I feel like it is, though. I will not make you tell me, but you can if you want to.” Another feature he absolutely adored about you. You never pried, but made it known that he could tell you anything. He squeezed you a tiny bit closer as if there was anymore space left between you two.

“Are-are you..upset that our relationship is not..for the entire clan to know?” He blurted and then avoided your gaze so he wouldn’t see your expression.

“No, not necessarily. I like the privacy.” You answered honestly, but Neteyam wasn’t sure if he believed it yet or not.

“Are you lying?” You sat up more to look at him. He was gnawing at his lip, worried that you were lying.

If he could give you the world, he would. He wanted to give you everything. He wanted to show you off and take you on dates that weren’t in the dark. He wanted to hold your hand and kiss you in front of people so they knew you were his. However, he could not do any of that in fear that someone would be mean to you or say rude things. The entire clan was kind, but there were few who said things when they did not approve. Neteyam only knew because he heard the things people said about his father when he became Olo’eyktan.

He is demon blood. How would he know how to lead a clan?

Can we really trust him with our people?

What does she see in him?

Those children, they are demon blood. Five fingers.

They are not true Na’vi.

He could only imagine the things they could say when he announced his possible chosen woman. He wanted to keep you out of that. He wanted to protect you from it as much as he could.

“No, I am not lying. Why would I lie?” You gave a small chuckle; however, Neteyam was still not eased.

“Right, sorry. You would not lie about that.” He looked down, embarrassed he even thought you would lie to him. A gentle hand cupped his face and directed his attention back to you.

“What is going on in that head of yours? Tell me, it seems to be bothering you.” You observed his entire face and Neteyam was flushing under your intense stare.

He took your hands in his, squeezing gently and blowing out a long breath.

“I want to give you the world, but I can not. I only do not tell people about our relationship because I am afraid they will say things we do not like. I do not want them to hurt you and say things like they do about my father and mother. That is the only reason I have kept us from them. Not because I am embarrassed or anything of you.” Neteyam spilled his entire heart to you right then and there. He watched your face for a reaction and subconsciously prepared for a negative one.

Instead, you just grinned and stroked his hand with your thumb.

“I did not think you were embarrassed of me. I know you have a lot on your mind all the time. You do not need to explain yourself to me. I do not mind keeping our relationship private.” Your head tilted to the side, still grinning.

“I just want to make sure you are completely ready to have every eye on our relationship when and if we tell people. It is a lot of pressure and people will be talking. I do not want to just push you into that if you are not ready.” Neteyam continued.

“I am ready whenever you are ready. You worry too much about me.” You laughed and Neteyam’s head fell against your chest. You cradled the back of his head with a smile.

“So you are sure you are ready to handle it? You can tell me no.” He looked back up at you, scanning your face for any possible secret resentment you weren’t telling him.

“You forget I have thick skin. I grew up with parents who were perfecting my every move. If I can take them, I think I can handle being your girlfriend in public.”

It was then that Neteyam knew you were it for him. You held no fear in your eyes that he seemed to be harboring deep down in his depths. You were ready to be by his side under any circumstance.

He brought your face into his hands so he could pull you forward for a kiss. It was everything he could not say and everything he wanted you to know. The night was young and so were you two in that moment.

TWO.

Tonight was a big night as Neteyam ran around the hut like some mad person. He was shoving Tuk’s toys away, cleaning every single space, forcing his family to be on their best behavior—especially Lo’ak.

You were joining his family for dinner so they could properly meet you. Despite all of his siblings already knowing you, it was his parents who did not have much knowledge about you. It was mostly just name in passing, but one they never asked much about.

When Neteyam told his parents he was even seeing someone in the first place, their reactions were pretty priceless.

“Hey, mom, dad?” The eldest Sully walked into their hut while his parents worked away at their own separate projects. They turned his way at the sound of his voice.

“Yes, what it is ma son?” Neytiri questioned. The boy was flushed and picking at his fingers, unsure of how to even approach the subject.

It wasn’t that his parents were against him dating around, but he had never shown much interest beforehand, so he wasn’t sure how they were going to react now.

“I..I um-well, you see, I met this girl a few weeks ago. She is very kind, strong, intelligent, a hunter. I-I would like you to meet her one night over a dinner, maybe?” He carefully watched for their reactions.

His mother, wide-eyed, looked over at her husband. They exchanged a few glances, probably speaking with their eyes, but Neteyam had no idea what they were silently saying. He worried it was bad things.

“Oh! Yes, yes, of course. We would love to meet this girl. Who is she? Is she Omatikaya? Does she live around here?” His mother stood, embracing him while asking the hundred questions she had. His father sat back with a tiny, proud smile on his lips.

“Her name is Y/n. She is just a few huts down. She is a great hunter and warrior. Beyral speaks of her sometimes.” Neteyam explained your background as best as he could. Both of his parents were beaming widely.

“Yes, I have heard that name a few times before. She sounds wonderful, I am so excited to meet her. I had no idea you were seeing someone.” Neytiri was the most enthusiastic for her eldest. He had nearly reached all of his requirements that would make him one of the People and it was only a matter of time before he would begin looking for a future mate.

Tuk went on all day about her excitement that you would be joining them tonight. Neytiri worked all day preparing a great meal with the help of Kiri.

“Bro, I can’t believe you never told us about dating around with Y/n.” Lo’ak snickered as he helped with some of the cleaning. He earned a slap on his head for that comment.

“Well, it was not much of your business, was it?” Neteyam retorted and the younger brother only shrugged.

“I knew you were sneaking out late at night. I could just never have proof.” Another snicker and another slap. Lo’ak finally let up on his annoying teasing.

“Tuk!!” A little scream broke the boys from their conversation. Nearly everyone in the hut looked over to see a little Na’vi girl run in. Tuk was smiling widely, bringing her friend in for a hug.

“Foana! What did I say?—“ Suddenly, you appeared, grabbing at your youngest sister. Neteyam noticed your other three siblings just behind you. You met his eyes before darting them over to his parents who were glancing your way. Your entire face flushed.

“I am so sorry. Foana begged me to bring her to say hello to Tuk and then..well, I could not leave everyone else out.” You quickly explained yourself in small embarrassment. Neteyam rushed to greet you.

“Tsanten, Naria, what’s up?” Lo’ak happily got up to greet your other siblings. Ni`awtu stood shyly behind your back.

“I am so sorry for them.” You whispered to Neteyam when he was close enough. He only grinned.

“Do not apologize.” He kissed your cheek and then stepped aside for his mother who approached.

“It is nice to finally meet you, Y/n. I have heard many things.” Neteyam watched the exchange, still a tiny bit nervous for his parents approval of you. You smiled, nerves also evident behind your eyes.

“It is so nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Sully. I have heard so many things about you.” You bowed your head using the I see you gesture.

“Please, call me Neytiri. It is so nice to meet all of your siblings, as well.” She grinned again at the other little kids talking with her own children.

“Oh, thank you. They will not be staying, they just begged me to bring them to say hello.” You rushed out, eyeing each one of them to make sure they were being well-behaved in the home of the Olo’eyktan.

“Oh please, we have so much food. They can stay.” Your eyes shot to Neteyam. He only gave you a small shrug, ultimately it being your decision. He figured it would be easier to get your siblings’ introductions out of the way now too.

“Oh, no, you do not have to do that.” You shook your head, but Neytiri was persistent.

“It is no trouble. I insist.” She gently touched your arm. Neteyam could tell you were not used to such hospitality. He also touched your arm and you glanced his way. He nodded, saying if his mother thought it was okay, then it was okay for them to stay.

If anything, it would hopefully keep Lo’ak out of trouble or saying things he shouldn’t if he had other people to talk to that he liked. That was Neteyam’s biggest concern of the night, really.

“Okay, thank you, really.” You thanked Neytiri by bowing your head once more. She grinned and then walked away.

Jake came next to greet you. Neteyam knew you were worrying about him more than anything. He was Olo’eyktan and Toruk Makto after all and it was the most important to get his approval.

“Hello, Y/n. I am glad to finally meet you.” You bowed to him which he did the same back.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Neteyam watched as you urged your siblings to bow before his father as well. They listened to you, doing as told.

You held such power over the little ones, but not in a bad way. Neteyam wondered if they listened to you more than your own parents. You had told him many stories of you becoming the main parent for your siblings growing up. Your parents were very absent. They were always on hunting trips, so it often left you caring for them. The eldest Sully could tell it wore you down—slumped shoulders, tired eyes, callouses on each of your hands, cuts, and bruises.

“Please, please, come in. Make yourselves at home. Our hut is your hut.” Jake ushered all of you in further. You smiled at him, not quite understanding the phrase, but you knew it was a kind one by his tone and expression.

“Y/n! Y/n! Guess what I did this week?” Tuk grabbed at your arm. You smiled down at her and crouched to her eye level.

“What did the mighty Tuk do this week?” Neteyam smiled at the way you ruffled up her hair.

“I caught my very first fish!” The little girl jumped up and down in excitement.

“That is amazing, Tuk! I am so proud of you!” You squeezed her tightly.

“Tell her how big it was.” Neteyam encouraged. His little sister held out her arms wider than herself. Your eyes widened.

“No way. That is bigger than you!” She giggled in excitement.

“I know! Everyone was so excited for me.”

“I certainly hope they were. That is a great accomplishment little Tuk.” You stood and Neteyam beamed at you. He saw your face flush a bit.

“You know she adores you, right?” He reached up to push some of your hair away from your eyes. You were wearing it loose like usual and some of it was pinned back with little petals hooked into it.

You blushed again. Neteyam loved how he could always make you blush like that.

The night went on just the way Neteyam planned. His parents asked you and your siblings many questions which you all happily answered. Just by the smiles and exchanges, Neteyam knew his parents loved you already which relieved him. He was worried something would go wrong. Lo’ak even managed to keep his comments to a minimal and mostly because he didn’t want to look like some fool in front of Naria.

Later, after helping his mom clean up, Neteyam went looking for you. He stopped short when he saw you sitting with Tuk, Foana, and Ni`awtu. You were playing some game with some sticks with them. There was a large smile on your face as you laughed at what Tuk would say. Even your sister, Ni`awtu, was smiling despite how shy she came off as.

Neteyam felt a hand come around his back. His mother appeared next to him, also watching the scene unfold. The sun began to set and eclipse was near. The forest was illuminating around you four. It was the prettiest sight Neteyam had ever seen—you with his little sister playing her games she always made up.

“She is a wonderful woman, Neteyam.” He smiled, glancing his mother’s way for a moment.

“So you like her?”

“We love her. If you do decide one day, she will make a great mate.” A small wave of relief washed through the older boy. He was so glad his parents approved of you.

Now it was just a matter of telling the rest of the clan. He knew most of them would be as supportive as his parents, but there was always the handful that had something to say. Neteyam would do his best to protect you from those who would say things.

Although, for now he would just enjoy the scene in front of him. He wanted to keep the warm feeling bubbling up in his chest for as long as possible. You were utterly perfect in his eyes.

“Neteyam! Come join us!” Tuk had noticed his presence. His mother squeezed his arm before letting him go. You made room for him to join the circle. The two of you exchanged a glance, knowing exactly what the other was saying.

You were definitely a keeper.

THREE.

Neteyam knew you were an excellent fighter. You were the best in the age group every time you went for trainings. He was always so in awe anytime he watched you skillfully use your bow and arrow to hit the targets on the ground from above. Or, your stealth as you dodged in and out of the trees. He knew he could never be as great of a fighter as you were.

However, with that also came the fear he held every time you left to go on missions. This one in particular was an especially dangerous one. His father appointed you to the head and it even shocked Neteyam a bit when he was told to hang back on this one but you were going.

You sat on the ground between his legs as he worked separate little braids into your hair for you. The only time you ever wore braids was for these missions or when you went hunting.

Neteyam did not want you to know he was worrying and playing every single worse case scenario in his head, so he kept quiet as his fingers worked quickly through your hair. However, his leg was bouncing right beside your head and that was hard for you to keep ignoring.

“Neteyam, are you alright?” You placed your hand over his knee. He realized it was bouncing and quickly stopped.

“Yes, I am fine.” You twisted your head around, pausing his braiding for a moment. The look on your face told him you didn’t believe him.

“Liar. What is wrong? Tell me.” You urged and Neteyam knew he couldn’t keep being quiet anymore.

“I am just worried is all. It always happens when you leave for missions like these.” He admitted, forcing a smile so you didn’t see all of his worry. You frowned a bit.

“You know you have nothing to worry about. I am a warrior. I always have been. When have I not come back from one of these?” Your tone was more of a “duh” tone. It didn’t ease Neteyam’s fear though.

“You never know what can happen, though.” He quickly make his defense. Instead of meeting your eyes, he just continued to work away at your hair.

“I suppose I do not, but you trust me, right? You trust your father. He would not send me into something dangerous.” Of course, Neteyam trusted both of you. It was the Sky People he had no trust in. He had seen them fight and the way they always had the upper hand with their crazy machine guns.

“Of course, but I am even not going. Is that not saying something?” He made a face and you were unsure what to say.

Neteyam finished off the last of your braids. The ends jingled together with the beads he added in. They were some of his own and he smiled at the fact that you two were going to match.

He turned you around and dipped his fingers into the bowl of paint beside his leg. You stayed still as he traced it around your face. He thought how jealous Lo’ak would be that you got to wear the war paint he didn’t on missions.

The two of you were silent. The feeling in the air changed ever since you didn’t know how to respond to Neteyam’s last statement.

You stood to look at yourself in the mirror when your face was done. The blue and yellow streaks went down your cheeks and around your eyes.

“Here, do not forget these.” Neteyam stood with your riding visor. He gently reached up to hook it around your ears.

You never flew with a riding visor, but then Neteyam made you one because he was worried about the wind drying out your eyes. You had happily accepted his very thoughtful gift and ever since then, you never rode without it.

“I am a warrior. I will make it back.” He felt comfort in the way you squeezed his arm. Your gaze was on him with a reassuring expression.

“I know you will. I just worry about you.” He cupped your face into his hands, bringing you towards him more.

“I have been doing this my whole life. I have my transmitter, too, so you will be able to listen in.” You placed the collar just above your necklaces and then hooked the earpiece into your ear. Neteyam remembered how thrilled you were when Jake gifted it you.

“We’re off in five minutes, everyone. Be ready!” Jake spoke through your ear. You glanced towards the opening where others headed out to their ikrans.

Neteyam brought your forehead against his. He closed his eyes, breathing you in and savoring every single detail about you just in case.

“Good luck. Be safe.” You smiled at his Earth phrases and brushed your hand along his cheek.

“I will see you soon.” He brought you in for one more kiss. His lips worked a bit rough like it was the last kiss he would give you. He was worrying that much.

You were the one to pull away, knowing you had to be out there very soon. He leaned into your touch when you kissed his cheek and then hurried out of his grasp. Neteyam hurried outside of your hut to watch you take off.

His dad took the lead as he dove off the cliff first. You were quick to follow, disappearing from his view almost immediately. Others in the clan who stayed behind clapped for the war party. Neteyam’s worry was only piling higher in his stomach, already anxiously awaiting your return.

—

Hours felt like days in his mind as he paced around his own hut. Tuk was in the corner playing with her toys and Kiri eyed on her older brother as he paced.

“Brother, you need to stop worrying so much. You know she will make it back. Y/n is very strong.” Kiri tried reassuring the anxious boy in front of her.

“I know, I know. This mission was a dangerous one, though. Dad did not even let Lo’ak and I go, yet he had Y/n go?” The logic still didn’t make much sense in Neteyam’s head. He wasn’t trying to discredit your abilities, but if you were going, he should’ve at least came along too.

“You have to remember that Y/n has been a warrior her whole life. Even when she was a kid. She was out hunting when she could walk. This is in her nature. Your father knows that and he knows she is a very useful asset to this mission.” His mother piped in from the other side of the hut. He didn’t even known she was listening to the conversation.

“Yeah, what mom said. She’s been fighting like this her whole life. She knows how to handle herself.” Kiri added on.

“Yeah, plus, she doesn’t always need you at her side and call.” Lo’ak had piped in now and Neteyam glared at him. Since when did his whole family become involved in this conversation.

“I am just trying to protect her.” He said in defense to what his younger brother said. Lo’ak just shrugged.

“Ma son, I know it is scary to not know what is happening, but we need to trust the Great Mother and everyone on that mission. They know what they are doing.” Neytiri squeezed Neteyam’s arm for comfort. The boy sighed, but nodded.

As if on cue, people started shouting outside of their hut. In the distance, ikran calls filled their ears. Neteyam instantly knew what that meant—the war party was returning. Everyone in the hut ran outside to greet them and check for any major injuries if any.

Jake’s ikran landed roughly atop the rocky cliff. You flew in not a moment later. The crowds were thick around the edge and it was hard to truly see what was going on. Being as tall as he was, Neteyam still could not see that well past the others trying to get a closer look.

He did not know where you were. You must have gotten down from your ikran, because it’s back was empty and there was no sign of you. Neteyam tried to push through some of the crowd, but it wasn’t much use because no one wanted to move.

“I heard it was bad. Many people were injured.”

“I can not believe he let that little girl go on such a dangerous mission.”

“This was one of their toughest missions yet.”

The words floated around his head as he heard people muttering to one another. He tried not to picture the worst for you. You had made it back, he knew that, but were you severely injured? Neteyam’s heart was practically beating a hole in his chest trying to find you.

Finally, he caught sight of some familiar braids and war paint near the edge of the crowd. He recognized Tsanten and Ni`awtu at your side hugging you.

“Y/n!” He finally was able to break out of the group. He hurried to you, joining in on your siblings’ group hug. He felt the way you clutched the back of his head with one hand and the other held onto his arm with a firm grip.

“Are you okay? Are you injured?” Neteyam pulled back to back to examine your face for any injuries.

Despite the minor cuts and scrapes, nothing looked too alarming to his knowledge. You had a pretty large gnash on your back, but it wasn’t bleeding out profusely or anything.

“No, I am not injured. Just scraped up.” You gave him a tiny smile. He was glad he got to see that again as he cupped your face and placed a quick peck onto your lips.

“Come on, I am sure Mo’at has medicine for these cuts.” You let Neteyam lead you away from the crowds and back to the huts. He sat you down on the ground and then disappeared to find his grandmother.

When he returned he had a handful of herbs, creams, oils, and bandages in his arms. You giggled at the sight.

“I did not think you were much of a healer.” He dropped everything at your side and then kneeled down to your level.

“Well my grandmother is the Tsahik after all. I happen to know one or two things.” Neteyam argued, his lips dancing with a tiny smile.

He gently worked to take your visor off and then wiped away the war paint. He knew you didn’t like to talk about the missions right away, so he enjoyed the comfortable silence between you two instead.

Neteyam’s hands were gentle as he rubbed the special herbs against your skin. You would occasionally hiss when it hurt a little bit more and he would mumble something about how he was almost done and you were doing so well.

He certainly wasn’t a healer like his grandmother or Kiri who had a special hand at medicine, but it meant a lot to both of you when he would heal your wounds for youor, when you would heal his after a long hunting day.

“Many, many people got hurt today.” You spoke after some silence. Neteyam hummed behind you.

“It was that bad?”

“Their machines are just so powerful. We are no match with our bows and arrows sometimes. They had to have known we were coming because they attacked back at us so harshly.” You shook your head some and Neteyam knew there was vivid images replaying in your mind.

“It is so hard to understand why they want us dead. If they were just a bit kinder then maybe there could be more peace worked out.” You continued on with your little rant, frustration becoming set in your body language. Your shoulders fell tense under the Sully boy’s hands.

“You know how hard they have tried with us. Someone always gets hurt. I suppose after all the failed efforts they have no other choice but violence, unfortunately.” Neteyam knew all about the schools his mother once attended in her earlier years. It seemed like the Sky People tried making an effort, but nothing ever held permanently.

“I know, it is just so frustrating. Tsanten and Naria are growing to that age where they will be old enough to go out on their own. I worry for them and what those demons could do to them.” A scowl sat on your face. Neteyam turned you around, cupping your face in his hands.

“I know how terrifying it can be. I worry for my siblings everyday, but you are very strong and you will be able to teach them well.” You smiled, but it didn’t stay for long as you casted your gaze away from him.

“I just wish I was not the one to always do it. My parents pay no attention to them anymore. They are always away. It should not be my job to teach my siblings every single life skill they will ever need.” You pushed yourself up from the ground, leaving Neteyam’s grasp.

He watched you wander to the entryway where you stared at the people moving about outside. Many were still tending to those who were wounded more worse than you.

Neteyam wasn’t a complete open book, but when he was with you, he felt comfortable enough to share the things bothering him the most. You, on the other hand, had a more harder time opening up to him. He knew you trusted him, but he couldn’t pull everything from you. He knew you parents were strict and absent people, always being away, which is why you held so much responsibility and burden. However, he didn’t know much more than that. You always closed it off.

Hearing what you were saying now, though, it was more than what you would usually say. Neteyam got up to join you at the entryway.

“You are right, it should not be your job, but unfortunately it is. You do a great job at teaching them and raising them.” His hand fell against your back. You leaned a tiny bit closer to him while your gaze was on Foana and Tuk a few feet away.

“I worry that they think I am too hard on them, but I am really just trying to help them survive on their own.” In that moment, Neteyam realized something. His whole life, his parents taught him how to hunt, fish, make kills, but their biggest motto was “Sully’s stick together.”

While yes, he was learning things on his own, he was also learning that he wouldn’t have to be alone because his family would always have his back. You did not have that.

You were the one who would always have your siblings’ back, but they wouldn’t always necessarily have yours. You were teaching them to survive on their own, not to depend on one another like he was taught growing up. Independence was a key feature of your family dynamic. Dependence was the key feature of his family dynamic.

“You are not too hard on them. You are doing what you know and hoping they will learn it too. It is a great feature to know you will always be dependable for them. However, you can always depend on me if you ever needed something.” You met his gaze and Neteyam smiled warmly at you.

“Your words are too kind. Thank you, my love.” Neteyam’s ears perked up. He had never heard that nickname before from you. You giggled upon seeing his surprised reaction.

“No, thank you, pretty girl.” He engulfed his arms around your shoulders to bring you into his chest. You chuckled and he knew you didn’t quite understand his nickname he gave you, but it didn’t matter.

He thought that maybe you going out on these missions weren’t so bad as long as he was the one to patch you up afterwards—and he always was going to be the one patching you up every. single. time.

FOUR.

Neteyam ventured out on a day-long hunting expedition with his father, brother, and even your own little brother. You remembered how excited Tsanten was when Jake approached him one night to ask if he wanted to tag along to get some pointers from the older guys.

It warmed your heart to see Neteyam’s family being so welcome to your own. Tsanten didn’t have your dad to take him out like this, so being able to finally go out was like a dream come true for him, especially with the Olo’eyktan.

You had a pretty slow day considering Neytiri decided to take Tuk, Kiri, and your other three sisters out for what she liked to call a “girls day.” She extended the invite to you, but you figured with everyone out of the hut was a great opportunity to get some cleaning done.

With a job that would usually take hours, it only took about two and you were done by noon. Toys were put away; the rug was cleaned; things were put back where they belonged—the entire hut looked spotless.

You ended up venturing over to the Sully residence to see if Neytiri and the girls returned yet. You thought it was empty approaching since it was practically silent until you saw Mo’at sitting near the back grinding some of her herbs together.

She caught your eye before you could walk away. You had never really spoken to the Tsahik before. Most times, you would send your siblings in if they had gotten hurt and waited outside for them. You knew she was a woman of few words despite being so highly respected within the clan.

You bowed to her.

“You must be Neteyam’s…oh what do they say..girlfriend?” The older woman cracked a tiny smile causing you to flush.

“I suppose so, yes. I apologize for interrupting you.” You nodded to her bowl of herbs. She waved you off though, beckoning you inside.

“I come here sometimes to get away when I want to be alone. There is always someone bursting into my hut needing fixing.” You smiled a bit, sitting down beside the older Na’vi.

“I understand. It is always nice to get away sometimes.” She smiled, glad you understood her.

You felt a bit strange being in Neteyam’s home without him there. Ever since the family dinner, you had only been over a handful of times, so being here alone with just his grandmother was definitely different. The usual organized chaos that filtered through his home was replaced with tranquility as the day grew shorter.

“You are a hunter and warrior correct?” Mo’at spoke up again. Flushing that she knew that about you, you nodded.

“Those are very useful skills to have as a Na’vi like you. I am impressed, especially with how much my grandson tells me about you.” She waved her finger around. You were sure that if Neteyam was here he would be embarrassed she had said that.

“Thank you, Mo’at. My parents grew up that way, so they raised me the same.” Your parents had always been die-hard warriors, so it was practically in all of your blood to become just like them one day.

“I do not see your parents around as often as I used to.” Who knew the Tsahik knew so much about your family. You scratched the back of your ear to find some excuse that didn’t sound horrible to tell her.

“They are always on hunting trips. They like to travel a lot.” Not a complete lie, but not exactly the entire truth.

“I see, I see. They always seemed to be very ambitious people.” You nodded. Yes, ambitious was certainly one way to describe them.

“It is mostly just my siblings and I around the hut. They like to take very long hunting trips.” Mo’at nodded once again.

“Yes, Neteyam says that you are the main caretaker of your siblings.” You flushed again. How much was Neteyam actually talking about you when you weren’t around? A lot, apparently.

“That task can be rather daunting, but he says you handle it very well. All of your siblings seem like very respectful people.” She continued before you could respond. You smiled. That compliment meant a lot coming from Tsahik of the village.

“Thank you, that means a lot coming from you.” She grinned at you while continuing to crush and grind away in her little bowl.

“Would you like to try?” She looked down at the bowl. You flushed realizing she was asking you to help grind up her herbs.

“Oh, sure.” She switched places with you and you began doing exactly what she had done. You crushed them down into tiny little bits and pieces.

“This could be your job one day.” Mo’at eyed you as she added in another handful. Your entire face deepened into a darker shade of blue.

“Oh..I do not know about that. Maybe?” You liked Neteyam a lot, but you two were teenagers still. His selection for a mate was still so far away and he would not become Olo’eyktan for quite some time.

“You like my grandson, no?” For a woman of few words, Mo’at seemed to have a lot to talk about with you.

“Yes, I do. He is a lovely young man.” You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw her grin from the corner of you eye.

“I do not know much about..what does Jakesully say..teenage love, but I know my grandson likes you a lot. He talks and talks about you so much. I know it can be scary stepping into that kind of love, but I usually do not steer wrong when I watch my children fall in love. I was not wrong about Jakesully and my daughter.” Hearing all of this coming from Tsahik meant so much to you. You held a lot of respect for the older Na’vi and now she was sitting beside you giving you advice about relationships like you were one of her own.

“Your hunting and warrior skills matched with your caretaking skills would make a wonderful Tsahik one day if that is what happens.” She squeezed your arm and everything in you felt so warm and comforted. No one had ever said things like that to you before and hearing it from Mo’at made it even more special.

“You are too kind. Thank you.” You flushed for the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes. Mo’at grinned once more.

“I know a kind soul when I see one. Eywa would not have brought you and Neteyam together if she was not wanting you two to be together in that way.” Obviously, Mo’at would know best when it came to Eywa. You smiled, glancing back down at the herbs.

Maybe one day this would be your fate.

—

Neteyam returned from his day-long hunting trip exhausted and ready to collapse into his hammock for a long nap. His mother was there to greet him with a kiss to the cheek and to his surprise, his grandmother was sitting inside eating her bowl of food.

“Hello, grandmother.” He bowed to her and she nodded back.

“Hello, my grandson. How was the trip?” Neteyam shrugged some, dropping his belongings to the ground for now. It was as best as it could be with Lo’ak being his usual self plus an added friend along for the ride.

“It was very informative. Father gave us great tips.” That part was not a lie. Jake always gave his sons great pointers for making their kills.

“That is great, I am very glad. I had a nice visit with your Y/n today.” Neteyam’s eyes widened a bit.

“You did? When?” He suddenly worried his grandmother told her embarrassing things about him or exposed how he would talk about her all the time.

“She stopped by here looking for you, I think, but I was here instead. I offered inside and we had a very nice chat. She is a wonderful young woman.” Neteyam couldn’t help but smile hearing that. You were amazing. He was glad to hear his grandmother liked her as much as he did.

“She would make a very wonderful Tsahik one day. She has nearly every skill necessary without even having much training for the position.” Mo’at eyed her grandson. Neteyam’s entire face flushed, but he also felt a sense of pride. You were great at nearly everything, he wasn’t surprised Mo’at thought that.

“Well, I hope one day it will happen. We are still young and—“

“Tsahik knows everything, son. It will happen.” Neteyam watched his grandmother beam at him widely. He flushed once more and then tried to hide the smirk forming on his lips by looking away.

In his head, he knew you were the one for him, but that was never definite. Hearing his grandmother basically confirm it was enough for him. You were it for him. Through and through.

FIVE.

You hadn’t snuck out during the night in awhile. Neteyam suggested it would be a nice way to get your minds off of things and just be with each other for a bit since your siblings were always interrupting or needing something.

Neteyam swung along the oh so familiar path to the tree he had taken so many times before. Eclipse had just begun and every time he was so amazed at how the forest lit up around him. It made Pandora that much more magical.

Like always, you had beaten him to the spot. Except this time, you weren’t alone. Your ikran was perched a few feet away and you had your riding visor on. Neteyam grew suspicious, but you only grinned at him.

“I thought we could go for a ride. We haven’t flown during Eclipse in so long.” You freckles were glowing and Neteyam could see the large smile on your face and your eagerness to fly.

“I did not bring any of my things and I only have my—“ You cut him off by revealing your hands that were hidden behind your back. You held his riding visor in your hands.

“I knew you would say that, so I planned ahead.” Neteyam could only smile at you. You always thought of everything.

“What if we get attacked or something?” Neteyam was still skeptical. He loved riding at Eclipse with you, but he felt under prepared if anything happened while you two were out.

“Nothing will happen, I promise. If it makes you feel any better, I have my bow. Come on, we have not ridden in so long.” You were tugging at his hand and he couldn’t resist your pleas. He took his visor from your hands and smiled.

“Okay, fine. Let’s do it.” He would do anything to be able to make you smile like you were right now. He called for his ikran while you hopped up on yours.

Once you two were both on, you exchanged a glance. There was a playful smirk on your lips as you pushed your visor down. Neteyam grew curious of the look.

“Last one to Ayram Alusing loses!” And then you were off before Neteyam could even process what you had said.

He quickly took off with you already five paces ahead of him. He had no idea how you gained so much speed already while he struggled to even pick up momentum. The wind blew against his face, making it burn some of his skin that was not protected. It was definitely not working in his favor tonight.

“You are losing, Neteyam!” He heard you call from ahead of him. He growled some and focused all of his energy into catching up to you.

He was finally able to catch up to your side. He smirked over at you.

“Who is losing now?” He teased and pushed ahead ignoring the harsh breeze as best as he could.

The two of you soared through the sky, the Hallelujah Mountains just ahead. Neteyam had the lead, but you were just on his tail, literally. If you reached out, you could probably touch the end of his ikran.

You had a competitive spirit, so there was no way you were letting yourself loose to Neteyam. From his peripheral, he saw you creeping up on him.

“You can not win everything, Y/n!” He called over to you, but there was something in your eye telling him you were definitely not losing this round.

He tried focusing through the bond to get his ikran to pull ahead as the first two mountains came up. However, you blew right past him like magic and crossed the imaginary finish like. Neteyam sighed in defeat as you pumped your arms up and down for another victory.

“I told you I would win. You do not win against me.” The eldest Sully still smiled nonetheless, enjoying seeing you so happy. He would lose a hundred times to you to be able to see you as happy and carefree as you were right now.

“My apologies, I should have known I had no chance.” Neteyam held his hands up in surrender. The little smirk continued to dance on your lips as you took off to keep flying around the mountains.

The boy stuck close to your side, the two of you smiling widely as you weaved in and around the large rock formations. You would occasionally dive over the larger branches hanging out to make it a game.

Neteyam felt like his parents where he knew they still snuck out at later hours of the night to do this. It was so thrilling, yet so relaxing at the same time. The breeze had finally died down and it no longer felt like bullets pelting his skin as he rode.

“You want to rest here? There is an open spot.” You pointed up ahead at a clearing in one of the mountain tops. Neteyam nodded and followed you to the landing.

You jumped off your ikran, taking in your surroundings. The entire area was glowing its bioluminescent glow. Each flora, leaf, tree moss, everything was shining bright acting as the light in the dark night.

“That was easily the best ride I have had in awhile. What about you?” You flipped your visor up and turned to Neteyam. In a swift move, he snaked his arms around your waist to bring you closer.

“That certainly was a great ride, but maybe next time you will lose the race here.” He grinned and earned an eye roll from you.

“In your dreams. You may be future Olo’eyktan, but you can never win against me.” You shook your head and Neteyam only chuckled.

“And you may be future Tsahik one day, so that competitive nature may need to die down a bit.” He smirked and your face flushed. You broke away from his grasp to look up at the blue-purple sky.

“Your grandmother speaks of the same thing.” You smiled, thinking about your time with Mo’at a few weeks ago.

“Is that what you two talked about that one day?” Neteyam questioned, always wondering what his grandmother could possibly be saying to you when he wasn’t around.

“She is a very kind lady. She knows what she is talking about.” You laughed some. Neteyam cringed knowing she definitely embarrassed him during that conversation.

“Did she say anything about me?” He had to ask even if he didn’t want to know.

“Oh, so many things. She loves you.” You found a comfortable spot against one of the trees to stargaze. Neteyam joined you.

“Anything embarrassing?” Your tiny giggle told him all he needed to know. He internally face palmed.

“If I told you, it would ruin the fun.” You grinned and Neteyam knew that Mo’at definitely embarrassed the shit out of him. Wonderful.

“Well, I am serious about your future Tsahik fate. Just think, you and I head of the clan one day. It would be perfect.” Neteyam threw his arm around you and you giggled at the image appearing in your head.

The Sully boy pictured it too. It looked very similar to his mother and father right now. You would still be a warrior while also caring for the people when they needed it. He would wear the large feather chest piece and headpiece his father wore—planning hunting trips, war parties, overseeing the entire clan. The future was so close yet so far. He knew it would be before him soon.

For now though, he wouldn’t worry about that and enjoyed the time he was spending with you by his side. It was enough waking up in the early hours of the morning, spending hours on specific skills, he didn’t need to wish it upon himself right now.

“Well, if it does happen, at least the people seem content with your choice of..me.” You giggled at your wording. Neteyam smiled.

“It is a miracle no one has talked much. I think they know my father will be at their throats considering I am their son if they did say anything about you.”

“I knew it would be fine. You worry too much sometimes, you know.” You poked at his chest, making him squirm away from you.

“I am merely just caring about you. It is not worry.” Neteyam attempted to defend himself, but it was clear he had a weak defense.

“You also worry. Do not be afraid to admit it. It is charming knowing you worry so much.” Another grin came from you.

“Well of course I am going to worry and care. It is who I am.” You pulled him back towards you so he could cuddle into you.

“And I love who you are.” You cradled his head, pulling your hand through his pretty braids.

He almost said it. He almost had the courage to tell you.

Jake taught Neteyam the phrase when he once asked what it meant after hearing him tell it to his mother. Jake explained how it was much more intimate than I see you. It was something the Sky People would tell those they cared deeply for.

Neteyam had been wanting to say it you for ages, but he never thought it was the right time. He didn’t know how you would react. Would you freak out? Would you say it back? Did you love him? He for sure loved you, but he wasn’t sure if you reciprocated his feelings that much. He didn’t want to scare you with such a meaningful phrase. It seemed like the right time, but it also didn’t at the same time.

Instead, he nuzzled his head further into you and breathed you in. He savored the way your hair smelled—somehow it always smelled like fresh flowers. He listed to your heartbeat, nearly putting him to sleep. The moment was taking him over. It was complete bliss and comfort being in your arms.

THE ONE TIME HE SAID IT.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

You planned a cute little picnic in the forest for you and Neteyam. He was dragged out of his hut with instructions to keep his eyes closed or he would ruin the surprise. Your grip on his hand was tight as he was dragged through the forest, occasionally knocking his head against a low hanging branch you forgot to push out of the way.

“Y/n, that was the third branch. Where are we going?” He laughed trying to figure out where he was, but it wasn’t much luck considering he was blindfolded.

“Just be patient. You will love it.” You hoped he would love it. You worked to put it together all day yesterday, so if he didn’t like it you’d be damned.

Trusting you, Neteyam kept accepting hits to the head and scratches to the arm knowing it had to be worth it in the end.

When you two finally arrived at your destination, you pulled the cloth from his eyes. He squinted, not used to the bright light, but when his vision finally leveled out, he was in awe of what he saw.

The little clearing had been decorated with numerous vines that wrapped around each tree branch. Flower petals were scatted along the ground. It looked like something from his dreams.

“Surprise! What do you think? A picnic in the forest.” You held your arms out, excitement bouncing across your face. Neteyam was still speechless at the effort that must’ve been put into all of it.

“You did this all for me?” You nodded, leading him further in.

“Of course I did. I had some help from Kiri and my sisters, but you deserve it after all the work you have been doing.” You turned to him, grinning widely. Neteyam cupped your face trying to find the words to express his gratitude.

“You are the best person ever. Thank you, my love.” He pecked your lips and then went to see what you had packed for your picnic.

You joined him on the blanket Neytiri let you use while Neteyam immediately began eating anything he saw. You laughed at his actions.

“Someone has not eaten yet today?”

“Oh, you have no idea. I have been out since the eclipse ended training with my father.” You grinned, glad you could feed him.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

Since it was a spur the moment surprise, neither of you thought to bring any weapons with you besides the knives you always carried. It was a part of the forest only Na’vi went. There was no possible way danger could lurk around the corner or behind a tree.

“If you could come back as anything you wanted, what what you want to come back as?” Neteyam laid across the blanket staring up at the clear sky. Your head was beside his as you laid the other way. Your stomach’s were full of food and now you were just relaxing in the sun.

“Anything?” That was a hard question. There was so many things you wanted to be.

“Anything.”

“I think I would want to come back as an ikran. They are so beautiful and just imagine being able to go anywhere you wanted basically. Flying through the sky with your rider. It sounds like such a dream.” You adored your rides with your ikran and being one would be a whole other level you would want to experience.

“I think I would want to come back as one of the good scientists like Norm or Dr. Max.” Neteyam’s answer surprised you and even himself. Sky People were evil and even some didn’t fully trust the good scientists who stayed behind, but he wanted to know what it felt like to live as human.

His father told him and his siblings countless stories of his time being apart of the Sky People and it always intrigued Neteyam.

“I know it sounds crazy, but my father told us so many stories as his time as one of them. It just seems so interesting to me.” He continued his reasoning when you didn’t respond.

“I understand it. I think it would be interesting to live as them for a day.” It was strange to Neteyam. Sky People could live like his people whenever they chose to, but he could not live like them. There was no science to make human bodies for Na’vi people who wanted the experience.

He got a lot of exposure from Spider, but it wasn’t really the same. Neteyam wanted to see it, feel it for himself.

“I have just always felt human because of my father’s blood. Even though I do not have the five fingers like Lo’ak and Kiri, I still have half of his blood in me.” Neteyam tore his gaze to his hands. His long, thin fingers that were just like his mother’s and Tuk’s.

His parents liked to say he took on more of Neytiri’s genes while Lo’ak gained Jake’s.

“It is okay to wonder and want to feel it, Neteyam. You are half human, half Na’vi. It is good you are curious.” You reached up to caress his cheek and the boy leaned into your touch.

“It just feels wrong, though. The Sky People are demons. They hurt us. Why do I want to wonder more about them?” In a sense, he also felt guilt. He knew how much his mother despised those people and even sometimes Spider because he was one of them. Why should he want to know more when all they did was hurt people?

“Do not feel guilty for wondering. Your father was them once upon a time,” He grinned at your english phrase you used. Him and Lo’ak were definitely rubbing off on you. “And he is a good human. You can still wonder and want to be like them and still be good. Norm and Max are good Sky People. It is your blood, your ancestors. Do not feel bad for wanting to wonder.” Neteyam liked the reassurance you were giving him. He was worried he sounded crazy or something.

He was about to respond when his ears twitched for a second and he suddenly got a random chill across his arms. A faint rustling noise floated into his ears. He quickly sat up.

Normally, he wouldn’t have been so alarmed, but the way his skin started to crawl told him it wasn’t some animal lurking.

“Neteyam? What is wrong?” You sat up seeing his quick change in demeanor.

“Shh, be quiet for a second.” He held his finger to his lips. His eyes bounced around the area you two were in and he grabbed for his knife.

The rustling noise continued and it got closer to where you guys were. Neteyam grabbed your arm, making you stand up with him. His actions were frightening you because you didn’t know what was going on.

“Someone else is here.” He whispered to you. He felt his heart beating a bruise into his chest at the idea of someone else lurking close by.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

A noise and then an arrow was flying just above your heads. You screamed out of instinct and fear. Neteyam’s hand was back on you about to hide behind a tree. When he spun around, two larger hands with a much stronger grip grabbed ahold of the two of you.

You screamed again. Neteyam hit them with his knife causing a minor distraction. He spun away from the prying hands, until four more people emerged from the bushes, large guns in their hands. He suddenly stopped, knowing he couldn’t take them with just a knife.

“Well, look at what we have here. Looks like we crashed someone’s date.” Neteyam knew it wasn’t a true Na’vi by the way they wore full clothes and spoke in english to him. It was Avatars.

The one, tall with a buzz cut haircut, crouched down to be at his eye level. Neteyam hissed at him as he scanned his entire face with his eyes. He held his knife out for defense.

“I heard you talking a few moments ago. You said your father was from the..Sky People. Your father doesn’t happen to be Jake Sully, does it?” With the English Neteyam did understand, he knew this guy was bad and clearly had his dad on his radar.

“Oe rä’ä tslam nga.” (I do not understand you) Neteyam growled out. The avatar looked at him, quirking his eyebrow and exchanging a glance with his accomplices with him.

You continued to struggle in the hands that held a tight grip on you.

“If you tell me where your father is, I’ll let her go.” He nodded towards you. Neteyam only hissed at him once more, knife high, ready to strike.

“Or we can do this the hard way, it’s up to you. You are definitely your father.” The avatar man grabbed Neteyam’s hand. He examined his fingers, raising his eyebrow once more.

“Sure didn’t get his genes though, that’s for sure.” The others snickered around them. Neteyam pulled his hand back, unsure of what to do. If he went for a hit, they wound shoot and he didn’t want that to happen.

His eyes gazed over at you. You met his gaze, the same unsureness resting in your look. If you were scared, Neteyam couldn’t tell because you hid it well.

He couldn’t call in his dad because that would just lead this guy right to him. He was out of any good options.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

“All you have to do is tell me where your dad is and no one will get hurt.” Neteyam thought of an idea.

He slowly raised his hands in means of surrender. The guy looked at him, curious. Neteyam set his knife down by his feet and then slowly moved his hands to where his transmitter sat on his neck.

He pushed into the buttons and began speaking in Na’vi since these guys clearly didn’t understand it as well as he could speak it.

(Let’s pretend this is Na’vi because I can’t translate the entire conversation 😌)

“Dad, we’re under attack, I need help.” Neteyam glanced warily at the man standing before him who watched his moves carefully.

“Neteyam? Where are you?” His dad came into his ear, urgent and worried.

“In the forest where the open clearing is. Avatar men with guns. We’re surrounded.”

“We? Who is we?”

“Y/n and I. We need your help.” The guy wasn’t exactly picking up on what Neteyam was saying which was good. His plan was working so far.

“Okay, we’re on our way.” And then he was out. Neteyam knew two things after that: one, his father was a much better fighter than these guys were. He was Na’vi, he had years and years to adapt. He could take these guys out easily. Two, his dad wasn’t going to give himself up to this guy and if they could defeat him, it wouldn’t even be in the question.

“He is coming now.” Neteyam spoke in english so the guy understood. He quirked his eyebrow once more, almost surprised.

“Well, that was easier than I thought it would be.” The others chucked around them. Behind his back, Neteyam made a small hand signal to you that he hoped you would understand.

Suddenly, there was a screech. You had bitten the arm that was holding you. Neteyam used that distraction to grab his knife from the ground. He went for the guy’s leg.

You wrestled out of the grasp. The others went for you, but being the skilled warrior you were, it was easy to take them out. You swung your leg around, taking one out with your foot.

Neteyam slashed the leg of the guy and went for his gun. His father had taught him and Lo’ak how to use one, so he knew exactly where to go to blow the amo out of it.

He used his knife to slash another one’s arm. It was pure chaos. Blood sputtered every which direction and the others were trying to fire their guns at you two. You were quicker than them, though. You knocked them from their hands and kicked their legs out.

One particular cut Neteyam made went across the entire face of one of the avatars.

“Quaritch, we need to fall back. We can’t take this many losses right now.” One of them urgently spoke to the one Neteyam slashed the leg of.

“I need Jake Sully. I am not leaving without him.” He argued bitterly.

“We’ll come back when we’re better prepared! At least we know they’re close by.” He seemed to finally give in. He called something Neteyam didn’t understand and all of his accomplices began retreating back into the forest where they had come from.

Relief flooded through Neteyam. They were leaving and the both of you were still safe. However, his relief didn’t last for very long.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

He turned to you, a smile spread across his lips until he saw the way you clutched your stomach. Your hands were trembling as they slowly revealed what was happening. Your knife handle was sticking out and blood was dripping from your skin.

There wasn’t a smile on his face anymore. His relief disappeared and was quickly replaced by fear.

“Neteyam..” You sputtered, swaying on your feet. He was quick to catch you before you hit the ground.

“No, no, no, no, Y/n. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. Look at me. Look at me. You’re okay.” He was sputtering, clutching your arm and staring at the way your knife was lodged into your stomach.

“Why am I so warm? Is it warm?” Your entire face was losing color by the second. Neteyam, even though he tried not to show it for your sake, was panicking.

“You’re fine. It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. Help is coming. They’re coming to help us.” He knew better than to pull the knife out, but you were practically pouring blood everywhere.

“Am I dying? Is this what it feels like to die?” The blood loss was making you go into shock. Neteyam was cradling your head, trying to stay calm for you and himself.

“No, you are not dying, my love. You are going to be okay. You are not going to die. I will not let you die.” If he had his bow and arrow, maybe he would’ve been able to take down those other guys easier. If he had a better weapon, anything other than a knife then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

You were not dying.

Your breathing started becoming rigid. It was broken into heavy pants and you were sputtering again.

“If-if I don’t..If I don’t make it..Can you-will you take care of them for me?” Your siblings. Neteyam visibly shut his eyes for a moment. How would he explain this to Foana? Who would take care of them if you..no you were not dying.

“Do not say that. You are going to take care of them because you are going to live. My dad is coming. Everything is going to be okay.” It was mostly just so Neteyam would believe himself too. Everything was going to be okay.

His ears twitched and perked up when he heard sounds of ikrans coming. His father’s ikran came into view along with his mother’s. They landed and then rushed to where you two were.

“Dad! Someone put her knife into her. She..she is losing so much blood.” Neteyam’s voice broke that time. He couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Shit, shit.” Neteyam watched as his dad gently flipped you to your side. Luckily, there was no exit wound, but the blood kept coming.

“I-I do not feel very good. I-I-“ You were heaving at this point. Your eyes were glazing over and your entire skin had gone from a deep blue to an entirely lighter shade.

“Y/n, you need to stay with me. Please, please stay with me.” Neteyam cupped your face, trying to keep your eye contact with him.

“We need to get her to the village. To Max and Norm and Mo’at.” Neytiri had a look of pure horror on her face seeing you like that.

Your eyes couldn’t stay open much longer. The blood loss was becoming fatal. Neteyam began shaking you when he saw your eyelids drift closed.

“Y/n! Y/n!” He was in too much of a panic to even check if you were breathing or not still. He could not lose you. Not now.

“We need to get her to the village, right now. Neteyam! Are you with me?” His father was practically yelling at this point. However, his eldest son fell into what was his own shock.

He did not and could not move seeing your almost lifeless body in front of him. He didn’t process it as his dad lifted you up to his ikran. His mother had to pull him to his feet, trying to snap him back into attention. Nothing worked, though.

All he could think about was you. You, you, you. You were in love. His future woman. His future mate. You were the sister to his siblings. The sister to your siblings. You were their care taker. Who would..who would take care of them now?

He should’ve told you. He should’ve told you the other night on your night ride. It was so close on the tip of his tongue. Why couldn’t he find the courage to tell you then? What if he never got to tell you ever now?

Your body became so lifeless in his arms. Pale skin, gone eyes, blood nearly everywhere. This couldn’t be the end. There was so much life ahead for the two of you. Your future plans. He couldn’t possibly do it all without you.

His mother somehow managed to get him onto her ikran. She flew quickly through the sky after her husband who clutched your body tightly.

When they landed, you were rushed directly to Max and Norm. Mo’at was brought in to give you a heavy sedation medicine so they could pull the knife out without damaging anything serious. It was near chaos. No one but Mo’at was allowed where they were inside the labs.

Neteyam chewed on his bottom lip. Guilt, fear, anger, sadness, everything at once was eating him up inside. He figured he should be the one to tell your siblings what happened, so he did.

Their faces were enough for him to finally break down right in front of them. It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me. The phrase repeated in his head like a broken record.

All five of them sat on the ground of your hut hugging one another close. For a moment he hated your parents for not being here in this moment. They had no idea what was happening to their daughter right now.

Neytiri offered their hut to your siblings without hesitation to stay in.

Hours were ticking by it stated to feel like days to Neteyam. There was no word on the progress or your condition. It was merely a waiting game at this point. The knife was lodged deep and you lost a lot of blood.

Everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

Mo’at finally emerged after what seemed like almost six hours where a large group had gathered outside of the lab doors—Neteyam and his family included. All of them deeply concerned about your well-being.

“The knife has been removed. She is stable, but she is sleeping still and will be for a few days.” A tiny bit of relief washed through Neteyam knowing the operation was at least successful.

—

The days went by and you had finally awoken. Once visitors were allowed, your siblings were the first to check on you, of course. Neteyam hung back, a bit anxious and nervous to see you again.

He felt so guilty for what happened. He could not protect you after saying countless times that he would at any given moment. His failure caused him to hang his head low and avoid looking people’s way when he went out.

Kiri, Tuk, and Lo’ak were the next group of visitors. Neteyam still hung back. Maybe it was fear that was holding him back?

Could he possibly look you in the eye again after seeing you with a knife lodged into you? Not really. His fear made him feel upset in a sense. Why could he not face you? You were his love, yet he could not find himself to step foot into the lab.

A few more days passed and eventually the doctors and Mo’at agreed to move you back into your hut for more comfort. Neteyam avoided the entire village that day, in fear that he would see you.

What was wrong with him? One minute he could not stop seeing you and now he was afraid to even make eye contact with you.

It made him feel even more guilty.

One night, he sat outside by one of the drop-off spots. His head pounded and every single thought he ever had was swirling around like a school of fish.

He didn’t feel another presence until he caught sight of his mother sitting down beside him. She had began recognizing his absent behaviors and his avoidant gazes anytime he was around people. She knew how hard this was on her son.

“Have you seen her at all?” She crafted her words gently. Neteyam shook his head.

“I cannot. It pains me and the guilt is eating me alive.” He grabbed his chest like something was actually messing with him in there.

“Well, she is asking for you. She is confused why you have not seen her yet. You should go see her, Neteyam.”

“I can not. Every time I look at her I remember the horrid images of the knife deep in her stomach as the blood seeped through. It was the worst part of everything. I promised her protection and I can not even do that anymore.” He wanted his mother to understand, but he knew she wound not. Not completely, at least.

“Neteyam, this is not your blame. You did everything you could and no one is blaming you. I promise you, son.” Her arm outstretched to bring comfort to her son. She rubbed his back, trying to get him to understand.

“Then why do I feel so, so guilty like it is my fault?” He pleaded for an answer. His mother tried to come up with as best of an answer as she could.

“When you care for someone as deeply as you do, whatever happens to them begins to feel like it is your fault. It is not your fault, though. You take the blame because you think there is no where else to place it. My son, you did everything you could. No one is upset at you or mad or angry. Y/n is not upset with you. Do not think that.” Neteyam’s head hung low.

“I think it will fix a lot of things if you go see her. You will begin to realize this was none of your doing or fault.” Neytiri urged once more and Neteyam knew he couldn’t keep refusing. He had to be mature. He was almost Olo’eyktan and he couldn’t even face his own injured (almost) mate.

“Okay. I will go see her.” Neytiri smiled, giving her son a nod of encouragement.

The Sully boy stood and turned in the direction of your hut. He started bracing himself—for insults? Anger? Sadness? Frustration?

The closer he got to you, the faster his heart would beat against his chest. From inside, he could hear your siblings talking and at times arguing with one another.

He tapped on the wood before pushing aside the flap that covered the inside. Tsanten and Naria looked his way.

“Neteyam! You’re here!” Foana was at his legs, hugging him much like Tuk did. He smiled down at the little girl.

“Hello, Foana. Tsanten. Naria. Ni`awtu.” He bowed before them. Their looks told him they had never been greeted that way before.

In the corner, Neteyam caught sight of your figure. You were sitting upright carving something when you finally noticed his presence in your home.

“Neteyam, hello. Come in, come in.” You urged him in further. He slowly went to you and your siblings filtered themselves out knowing you two probably needed some space.

“You look so much better. How are you feeling?” He questioned taking in your skin that returned to its usual blue shade. You smiled some.

“I am definitely feeling a lot better. How are you?” You took ahold of his hands. The questioned seemed silly to him considering he wasn’t the one who got stabbed.

“I am doing okay. I am not the one who got stabbed, though.” He stifled a small laugh. You rubbed at his fingers and he was just glad to be able to feel your hands in his again, not the lifeless feeling they once were.

“Well, I have not seen you yet, so I was making sure you were okay.” Neteyam grimaced just a bit. He felt guilty for not visiting you sooner, but he just couldn’t bring himself to face you in the state that you were in.

“Yes, I am okay. I am sorry I did not visit you sooner. I..I just felt guilty about all of this and I was being selfish with myself.” His head hung low, ears dropping. You grabbed his chin though, shaking your head.

“There is nothing to feel guilty about, Neteyam. You did everything you could. Eywa gave me life again because she knew my time was not over yet. This was not your fault.” Your words were reassuring. He forced a small smile.

“Plus, you forget how strong I am. I have thick skin. Literally.” You laughed this time. The joke was corny, but it made both of you smile.

You allowed yourself to pull Neteyam closer and he situated himself so his head laid in your lap. He closed his eyes at the feeling of your fingers raking through his braids. It was a familiar feeling he had grown to miss while you were recovering.

“Hey, Y/n?” You turned your attention to the boy in your lap.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” Neteyam’s heart was pounding, nervous for your reaction. He wasn’t sure if that was an Earth phrase you knew or understood, but he hoped it was.

A tiny smile danced on your lips. You caressed his cheek, leaning down to kiss it.

“I love you.”

The rest of the evening was spent wrapped in each other’s arms.

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say-al0e · 2 years

Text

Don’t Let Go

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Steve Harrington was your best friend. He was the one person you swore would never hurt you. But when high school rolled around, Steve went searching for a place to fit in while you went searching for yourself. Now, years later, the universe has brought Steve Harrington back to your life and he doesn't plan on leaving again. | Ft prompt request: “I want you to be happy.” “You make me happy.” + “I think I’m in love with you.” + “You’re the only one who gets to call me that.”

Warnings: Absent parents (Steve’s parents), emotionally abusive parents (reader’s parents), Steve was kind of an asshole in high school (but not really), best friend!Eddie, Steve listens to Hall and Oates unironically.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Word Count: 17.9k (I’m so sorry. I really, truly, terribly am.)

Stranger Things Taglist | Stranger Things Masterlist

Steve Harrington, dressed in a striped polo and the garish green Family Video vest, didn’t so much as bat an eye as you approached the counter.

There was no greeting, no forced customer service voice or Harrington charm - or lack thereof, as of late. Instead, he delivered a deadpan, “Someone else rented The Evil Dead,” as he continued stacking return tapes. “You really should just buy it at this point.”

The scent of his cologne, something woody that had always made your head a little dizzy - always blurred the sharp edges of your biting jabs and warmed the ice in your chest - enveloped you as you leaned against the counter. The surface was sticky beneath your elbows, as it always seemed to be, but you ignored it and grinned at him, cloyingly sweet.

“If I did that, how would I get to annoy you weekly?”

Annoying Steve was, originally, not your goal. The first time you stepped into Family Video, you’d only wanted to rent a movie - a handful of them, actually, for a movie night with Eddie. You’d been expecting to see Keith behind the desk, prepared to deal with his wandering eyes and slightly off-putting smile, but the sight that greeted you instead was a surprise.

News of Steve’s hire had spread - Robin was a friend, she’d excitedly shared the news almost immediately - but, almost naively, you believed Keith would remain at the desk and you would, blessedly, avoid Steve’s presence. You’d been doing it for years, sidestepping him every chance you got, but your luck ran out.

Though Steve was surprised to see you - the last time you interacted, it was after your high school graduation and you’d run off the moment you were allowed - he was polite, professional, almost friendly. There was a light in his eyes when he recognized you, a genuine curiosity when he asked how you were doing, and you were baffled because Steve Harrington hadn’t been nice to you in a long while.

You weren’t sure if it was the shock of seeing him, the surprise when he made an effort to be polite to you, or maybe it was the years of repressed anger at how he’d treated you in high school. Regardless, you could admit that the interaction wasn’t your finest moment. Every nicety he shared was met with snark, bitter and biting, and he deflated almost immediately.

Guilt bubbled on your drive home but some small part of you felt glad that you’d managed to leave with your dignity in tact.

Since that day, your interactions became more frequent - there was little else to do as you spent your summer in Hawkins - and seeing the twitch of Steve’s jaw when you met his kindness with snark made you feel just a touch better before it made you feel worse.

The roll of his eyes, the quiet huff of breath as he focused on sorting tapes into genres, made you laugh. “I’m not here for The Evil Dead this time, though. I’m looking for Nightmare on Elm Street. I want to make my parents regret locking me away on a Friday night.”

In a rare moment of annoyance - directed at you, anyway - Steve scoffed. “As if you were doing anything better with your night.” He paused, hands hovering above the counter as if he’d only just realized what he said, and you huffed. When you rolled your eyes, he spared you a glance out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s about the principle, Stevie. Spiting the parents and all.” You waved a hand, silver of your rings glinting in the florescent light - drawing soft brown eyes, half-lidded in exhaustion and exasperation - and frowned as you fixed him with an accusing look. “Tell me you wouldn’t do the same.”

Though it had been years since you’d last spoken about anything other than surface-level bullshit - chemistry exams and pep rallies, basketball scores and the weather, a fallen tree blocking the road to your houses - your bond had been forged in fire by commonalities few knew you shared.

The only real difference between your parents and his was that yours were occasionally racked by guilt - just enough self-awareness to demand a family night once every few months with the declaration that things would change, family time would become more important - before starting the cycle of neglect all over again.

Steve grimaced, a look that confirmed your assumption, as you shrugged. There was no need for him to confirm what you already knew to be true so you carried on. “Anyway, my brother’s coming home for the weekend so it’s time to pretend we’re a functional family.”

Another grimace - this one stemming from a place of understanding as Steve Harrington knew all too well what it was like to be forced to pretend - as he turned to face you. He leaned against the counter and folded his arms over his chest with a thoughtful frown. “I thought your brother got married. What’s he doing back here?”

He didn’t just think, he knew - he was at the first wedding, offered you a cigarette and sat with you in silence as you both sipped beer in outrageously nice outfits neither of you would wear again; a kindness you hadn’t expected from him, one that seemed to make no difference when he ignored your presence at school the following Monday - but you still smiled at him just the same, as if you knew something he didn’t.

This was the first time Steve Harrington had really looked at you - soft brown eyes fixed on your face, intent and flecked with something warm - in years. The weight of his gaze settled on your shoulders, suddenly made you feel fourteen and shy again, but you did your best to keep your hand from trembling as you reached out to straighten a stack of pamphlets.

“Haven’t you heard? He’s been married, and divorced, twice.” Steve winced - he’d looked up to your brother once upon a time, just as you had, and you knew that the trajectory of his life hit home for Steve - and you weren’t sure what possessed you to be so flippant (maybe it was payback, a sick desire to make him hurt in the same way he’d hurt you for years) but you added, “And you thought your personal life was shit.”

It was a low blow, you knew that - you regretted it the moment you said it - but it escaped before you could think twice. The flicker of good will, something more hopeful than you’d seen from Steve Harrington in years, disappeared in an instant. It was replaced with a roll of his eyes, an exasperated sigh that made your stomach turn, and you bit the inside of your cheek as he turned back to the pile of tapes.

“Nightmare’s on the horror shelf. You know where to find it. If that’s all, I’ll ring you up and you can go. I’ve got shit to do.”

As Steve focused his attention on the dwindling pile in front of him, you swallowed a heavy sigh that tasted bitter. There was no point in apologizing - neither of you had done that; him for abandoning you in pursuit of popularity, you for resenting him for wanting somewhere to belong - so you ignored the pang of regret stabbing at your chest.

“By all means, keep working, Harrington. The longer I linger, the less time I have to spend with the mirror-verse Cleaver’s. Annoying you is just a bonus.”

Though he made no effort to turn his attention back to you, you could see the way his brows furrowed in confusion. He blinked and the question was slow to escape. “Mirror-verse?”

“Yeah. From Star Trek? It’s, like, the evil twin universe.” Steve swallowed hard, a reaction that left you minutely confused, and grimaced as he shook his head. When he scoffed, you huffed. “You’re best friends with Dustin Henderson and the merry band of losers, dude. You’re, like, nerd bait. Don’t judge me.”

Steve sighed and turned back to you, ready to deny the obvious - or remind you that just because he spent time with nerds, he hadn’t exactly learned much - but before he could so much as open his mouth, the bell above the door chimed.

All too quickly, his demeanor changed. Steve smiled, his most polite, parent-pleasing grin, and you bristled. Warm brown eyes flickered to your face and away again so quick you were almost certain you imagined it but you averted your gaze, anyway, as you clenched your jaw.

Across the store, your mother stepped inside Family Video with a grimace. She looked entirely out of place, pristine and pretty in a grimy den of movies she’d hate even the thought of, but she still brightened considerably at the sight of Steve Harrington.

Once upon a time, she - like his mother - swore the pair of you were destined to be, fated to be married and spend the rest of your lives together. The only attention they ever paid to the pair of you was when you were together and, when Steve left you behind, you fleetingly wondered if that was the only reason he ever looked at you in the first place.

That wasn’t the case and you knew it.

Once upon a time, Steve was your best friend - had loved you more than anyone, spent every waking moment glued to your side - and it was because you were more alike than you were different. You lived similar lives, had similar childhoods, and complemented one another in ways that made your lives significantly better. Steve made you happy but, more impossibly, he made your parents happy.

When things changed, when your best friend Steve became King Steve and you turned invisible - became friends with Eddie Munson and tried to find yourself amongst the chaos of high school - your mother blamed you for ruining the future she’d imagined you’d have. She huffed and puffed, bitter and biting, when you started wearing black and listening to metal. And when you declared you would rather die than become a trophy wife for some rich asshole - someone like your father; someone you thought Steve would never be but could easily become, if he wasn’t careful - she refused to speak to you for a week.

When you lamented high school and all its difficulties, informed her that Steve Harrington was no longer your friend because he’d rather join Tommy and Carol in their relentless teasing than even pretend he knew you, she sniffed and reminded you that it was your own fault for choosing to be different. She told you that if you tried a little harder - put some effort into your clothes, wore a dress and fixed your hair and makeup - maybe things wouldn’t be so hard. And maybe Steve would still be your friend.

So, it was no surprise that she was happier to see him than you.

“Steve!”

She smiled, bright and brilliant, and paused just a step from the counter to take in the sight of him. Though you could both see her disdain - she’d lamented what a waste it was for him to remain in Hawkins, how awful his parents were being by cutting him off only to turn around and contemplate doing the same when you decided to attend a private university within driving distance rather than a larger school in the city - she was still glad to see him.

“What a pleasant surprise. How are you, sweetheart?”

As charming as he could be, Steve’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he spared you a fleeting glance. His shoulders were too stiff, knuckles a little too white as he held tight to the counter, but to someone like your mother - someone who didn’t bother looking any deeper into anything not entirely about her - he looked perfectly pleased to see her.

“I’m good.” Steve nodded, though you weren’t sure who he was trying to convince - her or himself - and, just as he’d been raised, politely declared, “It’s nice to see you. It’s been a while.”

The last time Steve had the (dis)pleasure of interacting with your parents was at graduation. Your mother and father showered him with praise, congratulated his barely passing GPA in a way that neglected your own straight A’s - lauded his accomplishment in a way they forgot to do for you - and didn’t bother batting an eye as he sheepishly explained away his own parents’ absence. It was fine that they were busy, your parents told him, he could just join your family for dinner at Enzo’s.

For three miserable hours, you sat pressed close to Steve - neither of you sharing so much as a single glance, picking at food neither of you really cared to eat - while your parents prattled on about nothing in particular. He shared another cigarette with you in the parking lot after but the only words you exchanged were half-hearted congratulations, a soft acknowledgement from him that your speech had been nice, uttered right before you ran from the parking lot to climb into Eddie Munson’s awaiting van.

Now, Steve spared you a tentative glance as your mother set her sights on you.

Beneath his understanding, there was something unreadable. The look in his eyes was a little sad, a little soft, but a fire blazed in them that you couldn’t quite comprehend. It wasn’t quite anger, didn’t burn that hot, but a sort of determination that you decided not to question.

Whatever Steve Harrington felt, it was no longer your business.

Still, the combined weight of their stares - hers an icy disappointment, his a warm understanding - flooded your mouth with a bitter copper. Your skin heated and heart hammered against your ribcage, battering your chest in a way that ached. And instead of chancing a glance at either of them, of meeting their eyes and being reduced to embarrassed tears, you pretended to study the tarnished metal of one of your rings.

With the pleasantries out of the way, your mother seemed to realize that you had yet to find a tape and huffed impatiently. “Why are you just standing here? And where is the movie? I told you to find something your brother would like. We should’ve been home fifteen minutes ago.” From the corner of your eye, you could’ve sworn you saw a twitch in Steve’s jaw as his gaze fell to the counter. “Next time, I’ll just find something myself.”

Another huff, one that needled at your already rubbed raw nerves and had frustrated tears prickling at the backs of your eyes, escaped your mother’s painted lips as she reached for a tape on the new release shelf. “Steve, dear, what do you think of this one? You know my son. Do you think he’d like it?”

When you finally chanced a glance at Steve, the weight on your chest grew impossibly heavier. He was never quick to anger, never outwardly volatile, but you remembered the little tells. The twitch of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes, the set of his mouth; he was annoyed and you were embarrassed.

Without so much as a glance at the tape, he nodded. “Definitely.” His agreement was easy, sure, but his tone was mild and disinterested. He wanted her - and you - gone. “It’s been a hit. Everyone likes it.”

Steve’s less than glowing review was more than enough for your mother. She didn’t care, not really, so she nodded and slid the tape across the counter with a satisfied smile. “Then we’ll take it.”

In her own way, you knew that your mother meant it - she did really like Steve, though most people who got to know him seemed to, irritatingly enough - but that didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered in that moment was how long it would take for you to make it out of the store and back home, how long until you could lock yourself in your bedroom and hide until your parents demanded you be sociable, how long until you could sneak out your window and ask Eddie for something to help you forget - how long until you could escape the suddenly pitying look Steve Harrington shot you as your mother dug through her bag for her wallet.

The look in Steve’s eyes - a nauseating combination of understanding and sympathy, sorrow and contempt - made it that much harder to hold yourself together. He knew your family, knew what your life was like behind the large house and rich parents, just as you knew the same about him. That mattered little, however, when you no longer knew one another.

Steve’s sympathy meant nothing to you, was more embarrassing than comforting, and he seemed to realize what you were feeling as he blinked and returned his attention to your mother. She simpered and Steve’s answering smile looked entirely artificial to you.

“Always so helpful, Steve.” She shot you a withering look then, one that clearly read ‘unlike some people,’ before offering him something a little more real. “It really has been nice seeing you, sweetheart. Don’t be a stranger.”

Then, without waiting for his reply and without so much as a word to you, she turned and headed for the door. She wouldn’t leave you - that would potentially tarnish her reputation, someone seeing you trudge home on the side of the road - but she would huff and puff the entire ride home, louder the longer you took to follow.

With a weak smile, one you knew Steve could see right through, you took the tape from the counter. “See you around, Harrington.”

If he offered a reply, it was lost to the ringing in your ears as you rushed from the store and into your mother’s idling car. And though she spent the vast majority of the drive home lamenting what could’ve been - “Steve is so handsome. If you hadn’t decided to be different, just to spite us, the two of you would’ve made such a beautiful couple. You might even be engaged by now! He’s such a nice boy. What a shame you spend all your time with those… freaks.” - you were grateful to have escaped Steve’s scrutiny.

The last person you wanted to pity you was Steve fucking Harrington.

When you arrived home, despite your mother’s sharp demands for you to stay put, you bounded up the stairs and locked yourself in your room. There was no chance she would follow - no chance anyone in your family would so much as make it halfway up the stairs to berate you - so you did little to stop the frustrated tears that fell as you took a seat on the floor beside your record player.

As you dug through the crate of records, searching for something loud your family would hate, you spotted the little white shoebox hidden behind it all. Your fingers shook as you reached for it, hesitant as you hadn’t opened it in nearly four years, but it was already difficult to catch your breath - tears already blurred your vision - so you tugged it free.

Very rarely was your mother right. In the case of Steve Harrington, however, she was rarely wrong.

Though you hadn’t decided to be different - you just were; your existence serving to spite your parents was just an added bonus of finding yourself - the decision to live the life you wanted rather than the one they wanted for you was the catalyst that destroyed your friendship with Steve.

At fourteen, Steve wanted nothing more than his parents’ approval. He was desperate, almost, in a way that you never were for them to pay attention to him. It mattered, more than almost anything else, and the thought initially made you sad.

He deserved better than a family that never really wanted him - a family that made him feel as if he had to earn their love - and you told him that. But Steve wasn’t quite ready to listen.

Steve liked sports but he pushed himself to the limit, practiced basketball and swimming in hopes of earning his father’s praise. He didn’t particularly care for Tommy or Carol or any of the other pretentious douchebags he managed to befriend, but their parents knew his and his were the most well-off, meaning he became something of a leader. His father seemed pleased he’d managed to become the leader of the pack, clapped his shoulder the first time he saw Steve take charge - grinned when someone called him ‘King Steve’ - so he kept at it, despite your declaration that he deserved better.

While he desperately tried to make his parents happy, you accepted that nothing you could ever do would be good enough for yours. There was no point in making yourself miserable seeking approval that would never come, no point in trying to be someone you weren’t. They would never be happy - even if you’d been their perfect little doll, they would’ve found some kind of flaw to fixate on - so you did what made you happy.

In the process, you and Steve lost one another.

In the beginning, Steve stood frozen whenever Tommy or Carol or one of his other friends chose you as the target of the day. He always looked conflicted, as if he was considering stepping in, but he never said a word. A few months into freshman year and he made himself scarce whenever you became the center of attention. There was always a girl he wanted to meet or a coach that needed him or a bathroom break he couldn’t wait to take and you wondered who he was really protecting - you or himself.

Though you’d known the same kids for most of your life, everyone seemed to have forgotten your friendship and you figured that, one day, Steve would, too.

The older you got, the less care Steve took to avoid being a part of Tommy or Carol’s tirades. He never instigated the attacks on you - was never the first to call you a freak or toss erasers at you in class - but he seemed almost resigned to their occurrence. Even the slight wince he once wore, a barely there twitch of his mouth whenever he realized you were the target of the day, disappeared with time. Instead, he looked on almost passively, as if he were watching something on television, not watching as his one-time best friend blinked back tears.

Eventually, he joined in on the fun.

For nearly two years, the sight of Steve filled you with as much dread as the sight of Tommy or Carol. He never took the first shot, was almost robotic in his mistreatment of you, but his jabs always managed to hurt the worst. The quips he hurled at you were never as graphic as Carol’s, never as biting as Tommy’s - always half-hearted, muttered because eyes were on him - but they cut far deeper than anything anyone else could level at you.

Steve’s insults were always performative but they chipped away at your heart each time. He knew you, had been the most important person in your life for so long, but that no longer seemed to matter.

Hellfire become your sort of protectors near the end of freshman year - Eddie Munson was never quick to violence, always had a worse bark than bite, but he ended up with his fair share of bloody noses and bruised knuckles on your behalf - and you grew to hate Steve Harrington.

Something changed in the middle of senior year - Steve came back from winter break almost resigned, deflated; seemed to become a shell of himself months later when Nancy Wheeler dumped him - and he suddenly kept his distance. He huffed orders for Tommy and Carol and the like to leave you alone, a sudden change of heart from the boy who’d been content to sit quietly for so long, but you no longer trusted him. You avoided him - turned your head any time he so much as glanced your way - and would’ve been content to forget you ever even knew him in the first place after graduation.

The universe, however, could be a bitch when provoked. Somehow, you’d managed to make a cosmic enemy and, for reasons unbeknownst to you, Steve Harrington began to worm his way back into your life.

First, he befriended Robin Buckley. For years, she’d been one of the only people outside of Hellfire you deemed safe enough to interact with at Hawkins High. Steve was once a pain in her side, too, but after a summer of working with him, she deemed him alright. Still, Steve was a forbidden topic when you spent time together - something you demanded, unfairly, you knew, but she respected - though, she did manage to sneak in a few words of praise here and there.

After that, he managed to become passively acquainted with Eddie by way of Dustin Henderson. The teenage pain was their only commonality, a shared ward who latched onto them both and received endless support in return, though both lamented their respective babysitting duties. Still, even Eddie had to give Steve credit where credit was due.

Outside of high school, away from Tommy and Carol and bullshit popularity politics, Steve Harrington wasn’t a bad guy and, as much as you hated being told, you believed it.

The Steve you remembered from a lifetime ago would’ve hated King Steve. He would’ve been horrified to see him be so complacent in your misfortune, would’ve called him pretentious and been annoyed by his very presence, and it hurt to be reminded of the past each time someone deemed Steve a nice guy. Your Steve, the Steve that was your best friend from age four to fourteen, was solidly good.

Sometimes, you missed him.

As your breathing grew more erratic, harder to control even as you inhaled through your nose and exhaled through your mouth, you dumped the contents of the shoebox onto the carpet. Immediately, a handful of photos caught your eye. The pile consisted of strips from a carnival photo booth, a stack of faded Polaroids, and a few photos taken by your mother on joint family vacations. In each one, Steve had an arm wrapped tight around your shoulders and was grinning bright, smile wider than you ever remembered seeing.

Scattered among the photos were little objects, trinkets Steve had given you - a charm bracelet he chose for your eighth birthday, including each charm he’d given you every year that followed; a snow globe from his trip to New York, featuring a miniature Statue of Liberty; a baseball, the first home run he ever hit, scribbled with a message thanking you for practicing with him; a locket, the gift he gave you on your thirteenth birthday, with a photo of you both stuck inside.

The most important object was the one that made you wonder if maybe your mother was right - if you’d just given in, lived the way they’d wanted and tried to be perfect, the daughter they imagined they’d have, maybe you and Steve would be engaged, well on your way to marriage by now.

It was a small, plastic ring - plucked straight from a bubble gum machine, complete with tacked on gemstones - but you remembered thirteen-year old Steve presenting it to you with a bright grin and glowing pink cheeks. He’d kissed you on the cheek, a quick peck that made your face heat, and held your hand for the rest of the night. You wore it, stuck on the same finger as your mother’s garish wedding band, until the first week of freshman year.

Now, instead of living in that world, one of which you dreamt nightly as a child - one you continued dreaming of occasionally until age sixteen, when Steve finally joined in on the fun of making your life hell, even if it was passive - you were stuck living in a world in which Steve Harrington just barely tolerated your presence.

This world, one in which you struck down every potentially positive interaction with him, saw you still mired deep in your betrayal. You still hurt, still tasted something bitter each time you allowed yourself to wonder ‘what if’ but you had half a mind to call Family Video and apologize for lashing out.

That was out of the question, however, as Steve would likely think you were joking and hang up on you. So, instead of humiliating yourself, you shoved the objects back into the box - taking great care to avoid breaking or creasing anything - and hid it away again, locked in the past where it could no longer hurt you.

With the box safely stowed away once more, you reached for the record player and switched it on - waited a moment for it to crackle to life. When Stevie Nicks began to flood your room, you fell back against the carpet and stared up at the ceiling. If you kept still, focused on your breathing, there was a chance your thoughts might slow as the opening notes of Bella Donna replaced the ringing in your ears.

As was usually the case, you lost track of how long you spent lying on the floor. The record needed flipping - you’d been lying in silence for what could’ve been hours, could’ve been only minutes - but the sounds of life carrying on around you played on a constant loop.

Your mother’s voice carried through the large house as she brushed off your absence by describing it as a temper tantrum. Your brother lamented the end of his second marriage, though you all knew it was his infidelity that brought him here. Your father clinked bottles as he mixed himself a drink, stoic and silent through the bullshit.

It was never-ending and you hated every moment of it.

A sharp tap against your window, long after night had fallen, finally broke the feedback loop. It captured your attention almost instantly, pulled you up from the floor with a stiff groan, and you scrubbed at your eyes - no doubt swollen and bleary from frustrated tears - as you wandered over.

It was likely a branch, fluttering in the cool spring air, but it could’ve just as easily been Eddie, bored and eager to break you free for a smoke session.

To your complete surprise, it was neither.

The sight that greeted you was enough to make you blink, rub your eyes a little harder and wonder if you’d fallen asleep - if this was some sort of truly ridiculous fever dream, inspired by your afternoon. But, as you pinched your wrist and blinked away the blur in your eyes, you realized that this was no dream.

Just as he had when you were barely teenagers, Steve Harrington stood beneath your window with a handful of pebbles and the ghost of a smile. He looked almost sad, melancholy, and you swallowed hard as you slid the window open halfway. When he realized your attention was squarely on him, Steve dropped the remaining pebbles in his hand and gestured for you to climb down.

There was a moment of hesitation, a question of why, but as a round of laughter echoed through the house - raucous and enough to make your blood simmer - you decided you didn’t care. His pity was the last thing you wanted but, in that moment, it seemed like a better alternative to remaining at home. You’d take Steve Harrington laughing at you over another moment trapped in your home.

With uncoordinated limbs, you gestured for him to wait before turning to rummage through your drawer for a sweatshirt - a security blanket of sorts. With it slipped over your head and shoes jammed onto your feet, you shoved the window open the rest of the way and pushed yourself through.

Steve stepped forward to help you to the ground, hand warm even through the fabric of your sweatshirt, and nodded - uncharacteristically quiet - at your soft declaration of thanks. The second you were steady, standing on your own two feet and blinking at him in the darkness, he took a step back. He cleared his throat, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and gestured for you to follow him with a nod of his head.

A split second of hesitation and you followed.

The path you’d forged in the woods as children was still there, renewed by Steve’s trudging in the darkness, and muscle memory pulled you along the few yards that separated your backyard and his. He held back limbs for you, careful to keep from hitting you with them as he stepped steadily through the brush, and held open the gate when you finally stepped into his backyard.

When the limbs cleared, you could see that he’d prepared for your arrival. Two sodas sat on the small table by the pool - a Coke for him, a Sprite for you - and a blanket rested on the chair to the right. Steve didn’t bother looking at you as he continued on. He crossed the concrete, settled into the chair on the left, head tipping back without so much as a word, and you were grateful.

Whatever this was - whatever reason Steve had to be nice, to go out of his way to resurrect a long dead practice from your childhood - brought tears to your eyes. You scrubbed at them to keep them from falling, swallowed the emotion burning the back of your throat, and followed him.

If he noticed - and, fleetingly, you assumed he had; Steve had proven himself to be a quick study, understanding in a way you didn’t remember - Steve said nothing. He remained uncharacteristically silent, not a single witty quip, and seemed content to sit side by side, sipping sodas and staring up at the stars.

As you draped the blanket over your legs, you allowed yourself a moment to reminisce.

This was, at one point, a regular occurrence for you both. After rough days - days your parents were particularly harsh, days his parents broke another promise - Steve trudged through the woods to fetch you. He plied you with soda and candy, junk your parents never let you have, and waited - patient, quiet - for you to decompress.

When your heart began to calm, the hammering against your ribs slowing to a steady thump for the first time since leaving Family Video, you realized just how much you’d missed it.

Steve remained silent beside you for a long while, stretched out in the chair in a way that told you he’d continued this practice long after you were gone, and you took the opportunity to study him.

There were elements of your Steve still there - the depth of his eyes, brimming with a thousand different emotions so deeply felt; the slight frown as he lost himself in thought, lips curling in the corners; the flutter of his lashes as he blinked away something that could potentially truly trouble him - buried beneath the hair and the cologne.

But, just as he did when you were thirteen, Steve Harrington still made your stomach flip.

It always irked your nerves that, even when he was the bane of your existence, you still believed Steve to be the most handsome boy you’d ever seen. It was unfair, cruel, but you blamed the years you spent in love with him for your infatuation.

Now, the sight of him bathed in the moonlight - worn by the world, older and maybe wiser, but still just as handsome as ever - had you spiraling in a way that you didn’t like at all.

The longer you stared, the more desperate you felt to break the silence. And though you hated to pop the blissful bubble surrounding you, the words filled your throat and threatened to choke you. There was nothing you wanted more than to pretend - to lay in silence as if nothing was wrong, as if your lives hadn’t changed entirely since you last shared a moment like this, as if you could exist beside Steve Harrington and not panic a little - but you couldn’t.

“Steve?” Even at a whisper, you flinched at the sudden sound. Steve, however, looked unsurprised by the call of his name. He tilted his head, flashed those warm brown eyes at you - glittering with a look you couldn’t quite read - and waited as you blinked. “I’m sorry.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, your apology was clearly not it. His mouth curved into a soft, confused frown as he pushed himself up to rest on an elbow. With furrowed brows, he asked, “You’re sorry? For what?”

For shooting down his efforts at civility, for dragging him into an awkward moment with your mother, for not following his lead in high school, for falling in love with him as a child and desperately hopping he would remain your Steve, for not being a person he could’ve loved in return - for being a mess who, despite no longer being friends, still needed his saving.

Each reason you considered sounded more pathetic than the last and you regretted breathing the words aloud in the first place. But when he looked at you, imploring you to speak - to give him an answer you couldn’t give anyone else - you shrugged.

“You’ve been trying. I’ve been mean.”

Immediately, Steve shook his head. He pushed himself to sit up straight, tossed his legs over the side of the chair and rested his elbows on his knees as he looked at you - really, truly looked at you.

It felt as if Steve could see into your soul as he searched your face. Gone was the boy you knew - a little awkward, a little misplaced confidence, a lot of heart - and in his place was a man you barely recognized. He shook his head once more, eyes falling to his hands, and laughed quietly.

“That’s… Don’t apologize for that. I deserved it.” He sighed then, a sound so exhausted you wondered how you hadn’t noticed the light purple beneath his eyes before that moment, and ran a hand through his hair. “I deserved a lot worse than that, honestly. I’m the one who should apologize. I’m sorry for…” He laughed, a rueful sound that made your chest ache, and dragged his hand through his hair a little harder. “I’m sorry for high school. I was a dick. I didn’t… I never meant to -“

Steve cut himself off with a sharp breath, words running together as he searched for just the right thing to say - the words he needed to adequately convey his feelings, his remorse - and you shook your head.

“I know. It’s okay, Steve.”

It wasn’t - not really - and you both knew that.

Though you understood, to a certain degree, there were still moments that left you reeling. There were moments seared into your memory that you would likely never get, regardless of his explanation, and a sense of betrayal that would fade with time.

But hearing a real apology from him, something heartfelt and sincere - honest, raw and vulnerable in a way he once often was with you - would break the dam holding you together. It would clip the fragile thread of stability you were clinging to desperately and, though he’d seen it before, Steve was now the last person you wanted to witness you breaking into a thousand little pieces.

Steve knew, seemed to realize just how close to shattering you were, and nodded. He turned, settled back into the chair, and rested his head against the metal bar. He shifted, weighing his words, before sparing you a glance from the corner of his eye. “It wasn’t cool, though.”

Your quiet laughter, tinny and hollow, covered the soft sounds of night. “No, it wasn’t. But it is what it is.” Though you knew you should bite your tongue, accept his apology for what it was and move on, you couldn’t help yourself. “It hurt but I wasn’t surprised.”

A flash of hurt crossed Steve’s face, so quick you almost missed it, and you wished you could take it back. However, before the words could linger too long - before you could stumble through another apology - he turned to look at you. There was something sad, a little more upset than you would’ve imagined, as he searched your face. “What d’you mean, you weren’t surprised?”

“We just… we went in different directions.” You laughed again - a soft sound that lacked any humor - as you shook your head. “Everyone loved you. Star basketball player, swim captain, prom king, ladies’ man; you were the shit. I played Dungeons and Dragons with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson and spent my days hiding from guys who thought it was so funny to ask me out as a joke. I didn’t expect you to, I dunno, save me, or something, just because we were friends when we were kids.” You shrugged, avoiding Steve’s eyes as you leaned back against the chair. “Our friendship was too perfect. Nothing that good lasts forever.”

Steve’s jaw twitched, the only outward sign of his frustration - not at you, something you realized the moment he sighed, the moment he dragged a rough hand through his hair - as he smiled, a rueful grin. “Pessimism looks good on you.”

A surprised laugh escaped as you shook your head. “Thank my parents. One of the many impressive things they’ve given me. I can make myself, and everyone around me, sad in two seconds flat.” You scoffed, shook your head and turned your attention away from Steve’s sudden look of understanding to the stars glimmering above you. “It’s a real gift.”

Silence lingered for a beat and you had half a mind to apologize, this time for giving in to the instinctual cynicism you used to protect yourself, but Steve spoke before you could walk back your statement. His words were careful, almost hesitant, as he began, “Your mom today…”

That explained why he’d made the effort.

Your sigh was heavy, long suffering, but Steve was not someone you had to pretend with. If anyone understood what it was like to live with parents who never really cared one way or another, it was Steve. The foundation of your relationship was built on comforting one another, swearing that you would be better than your parents someday, and it wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d witnessed something like this.

Steve had seen worse - so had you - so, despite your embarrassment, you made no effort to apologize for her behavior.

Another sigh, this one impossibly heavier, escaped as you spared Steve a glance out of the corner of your eye. He looked conflicted, his fingers twitched as if he was contemplating reaching out - offering the physical comfort he knew you once loved, once craved - but seemed to think better of it and wrapped his fingers around the nearly empty Coke can.

“They’ve gotten worse over the years,” you began, words bleeding into the dark as you tapped at the metal of your can. “I’ve been working, saving up money. I want to transfer to a school in Indy. I had a good scholarship when we graduated but I qualify for a full one now and I’ve almost got enough saved for a few months’ rent on an apartment.”

“Why’d you stay in the first place? You got into a bunch of schools, had a ton of scholarship offers.” When you spared him a cursory glance, unsure how he knew - hardly anyone knew, not even your parents - Steve smiled. “Robin told me.”

Since learning the story of your former friendship, Robin had made it her mission to reunite you and Steve. She swore he was still the guy you remembered, if only a little bruised by time, and promised to keep him in line. “It’ll be easier,” she declared once, “if we can all just hang out together. You guys are acting like divorced parents and I’m the kid in the middle.”

Steve’s searching gaze made your skin prickle. You warmed considerably beneath his scrutiny as he waited, patient as ever - genuinely curious, for your answer.

“I got a few good scholarships, but none of them were full rides. My parents would’ve paid the rest but I just… I didn’t want to owe them anything.”

Once again, Steve understood. He knew what it was like, desperately trying to avoid being indebted to parents who would hold even the smallest gift over your head, and made a quiet noise of understanding as he sipped at the remainder of his Coke.

As the conversation lulled, neither of you quite certain what to say to one another, you turned to study Steve.

There was a certain air about him that had always been there, an easy confidence that often saw him asking for forgiveness rather than permission, but he was older now. His confidence was less showy - less flash, more substance; an earned knowledge of who he was, who he had become - but beneath it, there was a softness that he no longer seemed to shy away from.

Steve was, once upon a time, vulnerable with you and only you. He trusted you, showed you a softness that no one else was privy to, but these days, he seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve and you were glad. It made him more approachable, easier to truly see, and you saw flashes of him - little moments here and there as he flirted with girls at Family Video, pieces of his heart as he interacted with Dustin and Robin and Eddie - but there was a sadness beneath it all that hadn’t existed the last time you were this close.

Years had passed since you’d spoken to Steve for this long, let alone this in-depth, but you were reminded of just how easy it had always been to let him. Steve understood you and the ease with which you spoke, the way your heart calmed and your breathing grew easier, frightened you deeply.

There were still bitter feelings lingering, shards of hurt buried deep in your chest - anger, betrayal that he’d managed to forget your past in a matter of moments when it haunted you for years - but you understood. His apology would’ve explained what you already knew to be true, that he was just trying to belong, doing what he felt he had to, and that was the hardest pill to swallow.

Steve never meant to hurt you - the guilt that lingered in every glance he spared you assured you of that - but you still feared letting him into your life once more. There was no fear that he would repeat his past actions - that, you could handle, though you knew without so much as a second of doubt that he wouldn’t dream of it - but you feared the return of feelings long since buried.

Every feeling you ever harbored for him had been locked away tight, shoved into a box in the back of your mind - one that resembled the little shoe box in your room. Steve was your first love, the first boy you’d ever even considered wanting as more than a friend, and getting over him the first time had been nearly impossible.

Deep down, you knew that you’d never fully gotten over him - regardless of how awful he’d been at the time, of how earth shattering it had all seemed, he’d been your Steve for so long that it was almost denial. There was little chance you could escape a second round with your heart firmly in tact but, when he turned to look at you and offered you a small smile, eyes shining with a sort of hope you couldn’t recall ever seeing from him, you knew that you were doomed.

When he spent the next four hours plying you with embarrassing stories about Robin, about Eddie, about the children - all featuring him as the bumbling idiot, likely played up for your amusement - just to make you laugh, the impending sense of doom faded into something a little more resigned.

And when he walked you back home, shuffling in the first slivers of sunlight with a hand on your elbow to keep you upright as you blinked away sleep, your fate was sealed. As he helped you climb back to your room, standing beneath the ledge to make sure you made it safely - throwing a hand up in parting, a genuine smile on his lips - you knew that there was no use fighting it.

The universe had, without any sense of mercy, thrown Steve Harrington back into your life.

Still, change didn’t happen overnight.

Though something shifted - your world, the planets themselves - there was no expectation on your part that Steve would suddenly return to the best friend you once knew no did you want him to. You needed time, as did he, and you appreciated the little distance he kept as a week passed without any sort of contact.

There was no deluding yourself into thinking that he would become a near permanent fixture in your life again. If you were honest, you imagined his friendship would be relegated to mutual hangouts with Robin or the odd encounter as you waited for Eddie and he waited for Dustin. There was potential for a movie night, stuffed on the couch with him and other friends, or another night by his pool - both lamenting your lives.

But, as if summoned by the thought of him - the question of whether you should call and say thanks, tell him you appreciated his heroism in your hour of need - Steve popped back into your life.

You marveled as you found yourself standing in your kitchen, watching as he piled pizza onto a plate. He’d stopped by with the order you used to share weekly - half his favorite, half yours - after dropping Dustin and Robin at their respective homes. He knew your parents were out of town, as were his, and figured you hadn’t eaten yet.

Steve was almost sheepish as he explained himself, a little shy in a way you never would’ve associated with Steve Harrington previously, but you didn’t bother questioning it. Instead, you let him in and watched as he moved about your kitchen with startling ease.

It was almost surreal, watching him wander around the space as if he’d always known it - watching him gather plates and glasses, shuffle through the fridge in search of soda. But, in a way, he had. As children, Steve spent more time at your home than he did his own. Not much had changed since the last time you’d lived this exact moment - the only real difference was your age and his hair - but it still surprised you that he’d managed to remember his way around after all these years.

Another key difference, one that reminded you exactly how much time had passed, was the silence.

As children, it was nearly impossible to keep the pair of you quiet. Steve spent many nights at your house, lying in bed with you, and nearly every time, you were reprimanded time and again by your annoyed parents for being too loud. Hours were spent giggling, chatting about nothing - just listening to yourselves speak, so your parents alleged, but you’d shared everything; dreams, plans for the future, declarations that things would be different.

Now, it seemed as if neither of you knew where to start the conversation.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable - over the years, you’d both grown used to it - but, in that moment, your chest ached in a way that made you feel as if this particular silence needed filling. You’d spent the week desperately trying to avoid thinking about Steve - something that backfired and managed to turn most of your thoughts into ones about him - and what you wanted to say to him. There were years of thoughts and feelings bottled up tight, ready to be spilled, but uncorking any of that had the potential to ruin the delicate work being put into rebuilding your friendship.

So, you opted to smile at him - soft and sweet, saccharine in a way he wouldn’t expect - and play it safe.

“I think it’s nice, you know?” Steve lifted his head, glanced away from the pizza he’d been piling onto his plate, and raised an eyebrow in search of the context missing from your statement. “The time you spend with Dustin, Henderson, the kids,” you supplied as you glanced away and reached for your own plate. “Being all dependable and shit for them, being a good friend to Robin. Being civil to Eddie. It’s nice.”

Steve faltered for a brief moment, uncertain, before shaking his head. He looked ready to deny the obvious, something dismissive on the tip of his tongue, but you laughed before he could. “I’m serious. You’ve always been a good guy beneath all that hair, Steve. I’m just glad you found your way back to it, let other people see it. You got away from Tommy and Carol and all their bullshit, you left the high school rat race behind. You came back to the Stevie I knew way back when and I’m glad.”

A beat of silence, marked by Steve’s lack of response, pulled your attention away from the pizza box and back to him. His expression was unreadable, warm eyes clouded with something that made your stomach flip - something uncertain, something a little sad, a little introspective - but he covered it quickly with a half-smile when you met his eyes.

“You’re the only one who’s ever gotten to call me that, you know?” Steve’s smile grew a touch brighter when you blinked, surprised. “Stevie. It was always your name for me. It never felt right coming from anyone else.”

The declaration was soft, spoken into the warmth of your kitchen with a reverence that made your heart skip - one that made your cheeks heat and had your stomach filling with butterflies - and you swallowed the emotion gathering in your throat with a sip of soda. It was a small gesture, something that likely meant nothing, but it filled you with a blinding warmth, just the same. “I’m honored, Stevie,” you returned, smile soft, tone just as reverent.

Silence settled again - this one significantly more tolerable; less awkward, more bashful - but, as you watched Steve move, you felt no need to break this one. He stepped around you easily, moved with you, and you smothered every thought of how natural the interaction felt.

As you bother attempted to gather yourselves - you, choking down every returning teenage dream, every fantasy long since buried; Steve, swallowing the uncertainty, the guilt - you spared fleeting glances at one another. Each time your eyes met, you both turned away, suddenly shy, suddenly ashamed at being caught. The tips of Steve’s ears tinted red, burning bright when he tilted his head just so, and you knew that your face was warm to the touch.

It was strange, feeling this bashful in his presence, when a week ago, you had no problem looking him in the eye and snapping something that would hurt his feelings. Realistically, you knew that it was a safety net - a way to keep yourself safe, to guard your heart from any further damage at the hands of Steve Harrington - but before you could make a joke, return to your snark, Steve cleared his throat.

“I, uh, I know you said it was okay,” he began, voice quiet as he glanced at you from beneath his lashes, “but I’ve been thinking.” He leaned against the counter, folded his arms over his chest, and swallowed heavily as he took a moment to gather himself. “I just… I need to say this, okay?”

There was little room for you to question where the conversation was headed - there was only one topic that was relevant enough to warrant proper discussion. His apology was a long time coming, something you knew he needed more than you did, so you nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, fingers dragging through the strands a little too rough to be a casual gesture, and you bit the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted copper as you waited with bated breath. He kept his eyes on the floor, not quite able to look you in the eye, and frowned.

“Everything that happened,” he began, words measured and clumsily falling from slightly chapped lips, “was on me. Even if we weren’t meant to be friends or whatever, I should’ve tried harder. You were always the person who believed in me, the one who was there for me, no matter what. I should’ve tried harder to stop Tommy and Carol and all the other assholes. I shouldn’t have been a dick to you, either. I was stupid,” he confessed, blinking hard against the light in the kitchen as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling - unable to meet yours as he continued on. “I was just trying to make people who didn’t matter like me. All I did was make the one person that actually did like me, hate me. And I’m sorry.”

Each word rang in your ears, repeated until you could barely hear the rest of his apology over the thudding of your heart - each beat hammering against your ribcage with enough force to leave you breathless. The acknowledgement made you want to give in to the pressure building in your chest, made you want to break apart into a thousand little pieces, but you gripped the counter and swallowed the copper flooding your mouth.

As Steve shook his head, lowered it to look at you, you could see the expression on his face. There was a guilt there, laced with something akin to awe - a reverence you’d never seen before that suddenly made your skin prickle with goosebumps - and you blinked back the tears threatening to fall.

“Steve.”

There were a million things you wanted to say, a thousand words stuck on the tip of your tongue - entire novels you could spout, devoted entirely to what you’d spent years thinking about - but nothing seemed quite right. Though you’d imagined this moment for years, desperately hoping it would come, now that it was upon you, you were stunned silent.

The acknowledgement that he’d hurt you, that you were right - he’d only been looking to belong, to fit, to find a family - and he regretted it was all you’d ever wanted. To hear it breathed aloud, spoken into the still of your kitchen from the mouth of an older, more mature Steve Harrington, was something straight out of a dream.

The apology didn’t erase everything that had happened - you both knew that - but it was a start. This was the first step, guiding you both in a new direction, and as you stood with a quivering bottom lip and shaking breath, Steve seemed to understand. He laughed, a sound that rang hollow over the blood rushing in your ears, and nodded.

“I know.” His mouth twisted into a rueful smile, something that openly displayed his regret, as he sucked in a deep breath. A shadow flickered across his face before he deflated entirely and shook his head. “You don’t have to… I know.”

Though it had been years since you’d had a meaningful conversation with Steve, he still seemed to be able to read you. He knew that you were overwhelmed, knew that your emotions were quickly getting the better of you - could see that your breathing had grown a touch shallow, that your chin quivered and your blinking grew more rapid - and that he was no longer someone you trusted with your upset.

Instead of pushing, he allowed his declaration to linger for another beat before clearing his throat. With that, he broke the spell, cracked in half by the scrubbing of his shoe against tile, and you were glad.

“I, uh, I missed you,” he confessed, a little hesitant - a little awkward - as he stepped forward to grab his plate. He spared you a glance from beneath his lashes and suddenly looked very much like the fourteen year old he had been the last time he stood in your kitchen. “Uh, hanging out with you. Being friends. I missed that.”

His explanation was rushed, clumsy in a way you weren’t used to for him, but it made you smile. It reminded you that he was human, still just some guy, and the feeling was mutual. You’d missed Steve more than you cared to admit, more than he needed to know, so you nodded. “Yeah.” Steve’s smile grew a touch more genuine as you nodded, really lit his eyes when you confessed, “I know the feeling.”

It wasn’t eloquent, nowhere near the novel you imagined spouting before you lost hope Steve would ever return to your life, but it was enough. It adequately conveyed your desire to start over and Steve seemed pleased, happy you hadn’t pushed him away entirely.

Steve smiled a little brighter before he blinked and suddenly patted the pocket of his jacket. “I, uh, I brought a tape. Thought, maybe, we could watch a movie?”

From the inside pocket of his jacket, Steve produced a copy of The Evil Dead, battered and worn but clearly labeled - and marked with a Family Video sticker. It was a moment of surprise, the tape having been produced so quickly it made your head spin, but the levity helped you swallow the lump of emotion lodged in the back of your throat.

Unable to help yourself, you laughed as you grabbed your own plate and turned to guide him - needlessly, he knew the way - to the living room. “You don’t really strike me as a horror guy, Harrington.”

Steve followed close behind, his cologne clouding your senses - overwhelming in the most delightful way, a scent that made your head dizzy and your heart race; one that filled your nose and would linger in your memory as you picked apart every moment of your interaction later - and you struggled to keep your tone as light as possible as you spared him a sideways glance.

The observation was met with a laugh, a sound that confirmed your belief, as you took a seat at one end of the couch. “I’m totally not.” You tried not to laugh at his grimace, not wanting to add insult to injury, but Steve took no offense as he settled at the opposite end of the couch. “You rent it, like, twice a month, though, so I thought I should see what all the fuss is about.”

There was more space than necessary between you, your body pressed into one end of the couch while Steve pressed himself against the other, but it was understandable. Despite your history, despite the hundreds of sleepovers you had as children and the countless hours you spent pressed together, this - whatever was building, brewing between you both; whatever you’d managed to rekindle, resurrect - was new.

Regardless of how familiar some things felt - Steve’s smile, the quiet understanding you still somehow shared, the soft look in his eyes as he tilted his head to study you - everything was different. Everything had changed.

Letting Steve back into your life was a choice, one you made the moment you saw him standing beneath your window, and you knew that nothing would ever be exactly as it had been. He wasn’t the same Steve you remembered - not exactly, not quite close enough - but you weren’t the same girl he remembered, either.

The differences were glaring, more than evident as he cowered into the couch, pizza half-eaten and mouth twisted into a grimace with each bloody scene that flashed across the screen. Though the film was campy, not quite as terrifying as another horror film, Steve still seemed perturbed by the gore.

As the movie played on, you paid more attention to Steve than the familiar images flashing. He looked entirely unenthused - a far cry from Eddie, who sat with his nose pressed to the glass and watched with rapt attention and an almost childlike glee - but he never breathed a word of discontent. Each time he sensed you staring, eyes roving his face, he spared you a quick glance and the ghost of a smile. He was trying, that much was evident, and the thought was enough to make your body warm from within.

“Steve?”

A flash of relief, clearly illuminated by the light from the television, crossed his face as Steve took the opportunity to turn his attention from the television to you entirely as a particularly bloody moment unfolded. If you hadn’t been so focused, so caught up in your own thoughts, you would laughed at his sigh of relief. “Yeah?”

For a brief moment, you allowed the movie to fill the silence - allowed his eyes to rove your face in search of an answer - and frowned as his brows furrowed. He’d been gradually shifting closer, a few inches every so often, and nearly closed the gap between you as he tilted his head to get a better look at you.

As he shifted closer - just enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body - his scrutiny was enough to make your heart race. It hammered so hard against your ribcage that you feared it might crack and you hoped your voice wouldn’t shake as you tilted your head to meet his eyes.

“I never really hated you. I wanted to,” you admitted, voice soft - barely audible over the sound of the movie, but Steve heard you clearly. He inhaled sharply, the only sign of his discontent, as he waited patiently for you to continue. “I just… I couldn’t hate you. I hated Tommy and Carol and Billy and everyone else. I hated high school. I hated the circumstances. I hated our parents. But I never hated you. I don’t think I ever could. I get why everything happened the way it did. I don’t… I don’t blame you. And it’s all water under the bridge now, yeah?”

Steve swallowed hard, blinked harder, and you could see his chest rising and falling just a touch faster than normal as he searched your face. Warm brown eyes mapped your skin, wary of any hint of dishonesty - any sign that you felt forced to accept his apology - but when he found none, he nodded. The look in his eyes wasn’t quite relief, not quite joy, but a light that made it harder for you to breathe as the corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile.

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve nodded once more, a resolute gesture that you returned easily, before tilting his head to return his attention to the television. Another spatter of blood made him grimace but that did little to stop him from breathing a quiet, “Thanks,” as he nudged your shoulder with his own.

Desperate to change the topic, to move on to something safer - something that didn’t involve feelings, something that didn’t require emotional gymnastics - you laughed quietly at his grimace. “Do you want to watch something else? I think you’ve suffered enough for one night. I’ve got Robin Hood. Only normal movie in the place, though, I’m afraid.”

The knowing smile Steve shot you was not quite what you expected. “Y’know,” Steve began as you pressed pause, “that doesn’t really surprise me.” His eyes glittered with a grateful mischief and you raised a brow as he laughed. “I remember when we were kids, you loved that movie. I think you asked your parents to get you a bow for Christmas three years in a row before you stopped.”

“It was four.” Steve hummed, waved a dismissive hand as you stood from the couch to change the film, and you shot him a teasing grin. “Imagine if they’d gone for it, though. I’d be, like, on some kind of watchlist by now, probably.”

“I hate to break it to you,” he began, grin badly concealed as he reached for the discarded pizza on the table, “but with the amount of times you rent The Evil Dead, you’re probably already there. Do you watch anything else?”

Steve’s grin was comfortable, teasing and soft in a way you hadn’t seen in years, and it sent butterflies swarming in your stomach as you slipped Robin Hood into the VCR. The taunt was in good fun, the jab of a friend, and it made you roll your eyes good-naturedly as you returned to your seat, knee knocking his as you sat.

“Just because you have bad taste, Stevie, doesn’t mean you should be concerned. I mean, look at your taste. You like Hall and Oates. No one likes Hall and Oates. That’s enough to get you put on a watchlist, not liking horror.”

His knee knocked yours, body heat radiating even through thick denim, as Steve scoffed in faux outrage. “Hall and Oates are good!” His defense was louder than he intended, a teasingly outraged roar as he turned to you, eyes glittering in the dim living room light. “They’re real music. Not like…” He frowned, eyes narrowing as he met your gaze. “I can’t even name anyone you might listen to to make fun of you.”

“Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Motörhead, Megadeth, Metallica?” Steve stared blankly, blinking after each name, before shaking his head when you allowed the question a moment to linger. You huffed, unsurprised but still feigning disappointment, and Steve laughed. “Okay, if this,” you waved a hand between the pair of you, “is going to work, we’ve gotta get you educated. Metallica has a new album coming out and it’s gonna be out of this world. Ozzy, from Black Sabbath, he’s gone solo and his stuff’s killer. Totally insane. That’s real music. Not fuckin’ Hall and Oates.”

“I don’t know who any of those people are,” Steve admitted, laughing quietly as he shook his head, “but I’ll take your word for it.” He paused, tilted his head to meet your eyes once more, and smiled just a little softer. "Next time, you can educate me.”

The brief consideration that you would be given nothing more than this, a few chance meetings with an old friend, had been enough to make your chest ache, and the relief you felt at realizing that would not be the case worried you. Though it warmed you considerably, made your nerves buzz in the most pleasant of ways, there was still the question of why.

So much time had passed, years had gone by without so much as a kind word shared between the two of you, that you couldn’t quite understand Steve’s motivation. There was the chance that he’d missed you in the same way you’d missed him - felt that there was a void in his life, a blank space where there was once a piece of a larger puzzle - but there was also the chance that he was simply lonely. As far as you could tell, his social circle had minimized to little more than Dustin and Robin.

There was a chance that you were all he had left.

That thought did little to comfort you - you wanted him to desire your presence the same way you’d desired his, wanted him to have missed you in the same way you’d missed him - but you decided not to dwell on it. If Steve wanted to remain in your life for whatever reason, you would allow it. You were older, had more experience dealing with the crushing blows life could deal. Steve Harrington couldn’t hurt you much more than he already had; letting him have a piece of your heart, the piece that had always belonged to him, anyway, was going to happen whether you wanted it to or not.

The only thing you could do was temper your expectations.

There was no expectation that this would be anything more than friendship - something safe, a comfortable return for the both of you; a relationship you both needed if you were to continue living in Hawkins. As beautiful as you found him, as in love with him as you’d once been, that ship had long since sailed.

Steve had been your friend once - had only ever been your friend. There was nothing more there, no matter how desperately you’d once hoped for something more. Reminding yourself of that from the beginning would make the inevitable heartbreak that much easier.

As you thought, lost yourself to questions of what could be - what had already been - and harsh reminders of why this was a line of thinking you couldn’t afford to barrel down, the sound of Disney dreams echoed through the dim living room. Steve rested at your side, head cradled by the back of the couch, and seemed more relaxed than you’d seen him in a long while.

It was easy to lose yourself in something that felt so safe. Moments like this, sheltered safely away from family and losing yourself in the presence of Steve Harrington, had always been a great source of comfort. It was easy to forget nearly everything troubling you, to delude yourself into thinking that this was a safe space, and evidently, Steve felt the same as you both began to drift.

The exhaustion of your week crept up on you slowly, muddled the mess of thoughts crowding your brain and blurred the images dancing on the screen. Work had been grueling, busier than normal, and the presence of your brother meant that you were walking on eggshells with every step you took at home. Before you realized what you were doing, your head began tilting in the direction of Steve’s shoulder.

For a moment, you rested there. It was easy, settling against Steve as you had so many times as a child, but just as you did the first time this happened - a lifetime ago now - you lifted your head when he shifted.

Steve smiled, an exhausted quirk of his mouth, as you shook yourself awake. You shot him a sheepish grin, apology on the tip of your tongue as you blinked away sleep, but he silenced it with a soft laugh. He reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and settled it over your laps, thigh pressed to yours as his arm wrapped around your shoulders. It was once a natural position, you wrapped in his arms as the world passed you by, and you blamed the exhaustion muddling your brain for the way your body melted into his instead of jolting away.

It was a reflex, you reasoned, muscle memory long forgotten. You’d had countless sleepovers with Robin, with Eddie; neither meant anything more than friendship and this, whatever it was, didn’t either.

When you made no effort to move, Steve smiled. “You’ve drooled on me before, sunshine,” he reminded you gently, voice soft in the quiet of the room, “get comfortable. I’m not going anywhere.”

The heat of his body pressed to yours, the scent of his cologne, his shampoo, the clean laundry scent of his sweatshirt, combined with the tangled web of questions - doubt and lingering resentment, baked in wariness - muddled your thoughts. The only response you deemed worthy of his declaration was a confused, “Sunshine?”

For a moment, the name lingered in the air, before realization seemed to hit you both. Just as you’d always called him Stevie - a soft nickname, not very original but always uttered with the utmost care, a sweet praise meant only for him - he called you ‘sunshine.’

It started as a joke, a nickname plucked from thin air on a warm summer day after too much time in the sun left you with a bout of heat exhaustion, but had ultimately stuck. Steve swore it was nice, a declaration that you made his days brighter, after it nearly drove you to tears. It became something soft, uttered in private and only shared between the two of you, and Steve blinked as he realized.

Then, without missing a beat, he shrugged. He offered a half smile as he rested his head on the back of the couch, tilted it just enough to meet your eyes. “If you can call me Stevie, I can call you sunshine. Equality, right?”

“Yeah, Stevie. Equality.”

The sleepy bubble of laughter that escaped you was enough to make Steve smile, lazy but pleased, as his eyes slipped shut. Instead of shrugging off his arm, retreating to your side of the couch and drifting off as you knew you should, you leaned in closer. You inhaled the scent of his cologne, his shampoo, his detergent, allowed it to dull the ache in your chest - calm the sudden racing of your heart. And as his breathing evened out, chest rising and falling rhythmically, you allowed yourself the indulgence of pressing your head to his shoulder.

Before you knew it, you’d drifted into the most peaceful sleep you’d gotten in months.

When you woke the next morning, wrapped in Steve’s embrace with your face buried in the crook of his neck - warm and content, limbs stiff with sleep but relaxed; heart calmer than it had been in months - there was no confusion. You knew, instantly, where you were and whose arms surrounded you. Even as you blinked sleep from your eyes, there was no mistaking the scent of him. Your body felt lighter, as if it were floating, and you took a moment to take stock of the moment.

There was a crackling warmth building in your chest, the spark of something you knew was better left buried - feelings you’d swallowed long ago warming the hollow of your chest - and you did your best to think about anything other than the warmth of Steve’s palm pressed to your side, fingers ghosting the sliver of skin just above the band of your shorts.

Thoughts of work, of school, of music, of Eddie, of Robin, of to-do lists, of books left unfinished all distracted you briefly but the air around you shifted the moment you woke and you were powerless to stop it.

A cursory glance at Steve proved that you were not the only one who felt it. His eyes were already on you, gaze sleepy and warm. There seemed to be fewer lines on his face, a lighter purple beneath his eyes, and he was able to hold your gaze just a moment longer as he shot you a soft smile.

“G’morning, sunshine.” His voice, rough with sleep, hit you square in the chest. It was a sound you hadn’t heard in years, one that brought a thousand memories bubbling to the surface, and you tried not to let him see how if affected you. “Your couch used to be way more comfortable.”

He looked warm, hair mussed with sleep and eyes blinking slow against the sunlight filtering in through windows, and you were powerless to stop yourself from reaching out to brush a lock of hair from his eyes. “It’s still comfortable. You’re just getting old, Stevie.”

Steve’s mouth fell open, lips parted in faux outrage, as he scoffed. The hand on your hip moved, fingers pinched lightly at the skin - not enough to hurt, just enough to feel - and you laughed as he rolled his eyes. “I’m not getting old,” he huffed, indignant. He searched your face, eyes glittering with an amused mischief, before he shook his head. “I brought you pizza and your favorite movie, just so you could bully me. Unbelievable.”

“I’m just trying to keep you humble, Harrington.”

“Yeah? Oh, well, someone has to do it,” he agreed, nodding as he lifted a hand to rake through sleep mussed hair. “Might as well be you, huh?” Steve grinned and so did you. You’d never humbled him, never even dreamed of it - you were the one to build him up, to make him smile and remind him of his worth after his parents cut him down - and you wouldn’t begin now.

Still, you nodded, somber-faced and fighting a grin. “Might as well.”

There was something electric that thrummed just beneath the surface, a steady warmth that underlined the conversation, and suddenly, it felt as if you were fourteen again. You were reminded of the mornings you spent together, laughing at nothing before the reality of life set in. It made your chest ache, made your lungs burn, but you desperately wanted to bottle the moment, just in case you never lived it again.

Over the course of the teasing, Steve’s face had drawn closer - mouth close enough to feel the warmth of his breath fanning your skin as he laughed - and you blinked, surprised, when you realized how little distance remained. It took Steve a moment, his smile slowly fading into something a touch more serious, but when he seemed to realize, he looked almost reluctant to release his hold on you.

“Robin will help if I’m late again.” He laughed, though it rang a touch hollow, as he moved, placed a little bit of distance between the pair of you.

“Oh, yeah. Might not want to risk that. She can humble you in, like, a really accurate way.”

Steve grimaced, though laughter was quick to follow, as he stood from the couch. Subconsciously, your eyes fell to his stomach - traced the dark trail of hair that flashed as he lifted his arms above his head to stretch - and felt your face heat as he caught you. Instead of teasing, however, Steve’s own cheeks tinged pink, a soft dusting that warmed his face, as he reached for the plates still sitting on the coffee table.

“She almost made Keith cry once,” he revealed as you stood and followed him to the kitchen, carrying the empty soda cans. "Not on purpose, she just started talking and couldn’t stop. She apologized a thousand times but I still got dragged into a month of Saturday night shifts, just because I laughed.”

“She said something about our history teacher once, I can’t remember what, but I laughed and we both got detention. That’s actually how we became friends,” you revealed, smile soft when Steve turned to you. “It’s, like, one of those word vomit things. She says it before she can really think about it. It’s not mean, just really accurate.”

“Oh, yeah. For someone who claims she can’t read people, Robin’s usually pretty right about most things.”

The observation lingered, was met with your hum of acknowledgement, and the conversation tapered off. Steve spared the clock in the kitchen a glance, sighed as he realized the time, and offered you a hesitant smile. “Thanks,” he began, voice going quiet once more as he glanced at you from beneath his lashes. “For, uh, not kicking me out, I guess. And not making me finish The Evil Dead.”

It was sweet, an endearing quip that made you grin, and you shook your head to keep from flustering as you folded your arms over your chest. “Anytime, Stevie. You know where I live if you ever want to do it again.”

Steve grinned, a little easier than before, as he walked by your side to the front door. “Careful what you wish for, sunshine. I might just take you up on that.” Then, for the first time in a long while, you saw Steve hesitate. He blinked, unsure, before he offered you a tight smile instead of the hug he seemed to be contemplating. “I’ll see you later.”

“Later, Harrington.”

And, just like that, the moment was over. Steve left with a glance thrown over his shoulder - a few glances spared out of his window, eyes stuck on you as you stood in the doorway and waited until he’d made it down your driveway - and you wandered back into the house with an overwhelming flurry of emotions filling the pit of your stomach.

You wondered if this would be a one time thing, a mistake on his part - an effort to clear a guilty conscious, a way to absolve himself of any lingering guilt he felt after uncovering old wounds the week prior - or if it would become a regular effort. You wondered if it would continue being this easy, allowing Steve back into your life when you’d run from him for so long. You wondered if he even wanted back into your life, if he felt the same conflicting emotions you felt as you cleared the reminders of his presence from your home.

However, your worries were soothed as you realized the moment you shared - one you worried would be a fluke, something to be forgotten and never considered again - became the spark that reignited your friendship with Steve.

It started gradually, with you and Steve spending one night a week together. Most weeks, your time together was limited to a few hours - usually on days Dustin and Eddie had Hellfire and Robin had band - and filled with food and laughter as you made use of the nearly untouched kitchen in his home. Others, you found yourselves wrapped up in one another, a tangled mess of limbs and blankets, after another accidental sleepover that got less awkward each time it happened.

Slowly but surely, once a week turned into twice a week. Then, it became three. Soon, and before you could really think too much about it, most of your days included at least a few moments of Steve Harrington’s time. Steve became a fixture in your nights with Robin - not always, you still reveled in your alone time, but more often than not - and, on a few separate occasions, joined you and Eddie for a night of music and horror movies that made his stomach turn.

It was strange, going from avoiding Steve at every turn to seeing him almost daily in what felt like the blink of an eye, but, in a way, it felt like coming home. Steve had, for so long, been such a large part of your life. Welcoming him back into the chaos of your life was easy, almost too easy, but he fit like a missing puzzle piece.

There were moments that you thought too much about it - where you wondered if you were clinging to a past that no longer existed, trying to delude yourself into thinking that nothing had changed. There were moments you poured your heart out to Eddie, wondering if you were doing the wrong thing in allowing Steve back into your life without so much as blinking. There were moments that you struggled, questioning every decision you’d made in relation to Steve Harrington. But, at the end of the day, each moment you spent with him felt right.

Still, there was a weight to your friendship that hadn’t existed as children. As his presence in your life grew greater, more obvious, there was a realization that now - as adults, or as close as you could be - every action, every word, carried a consequence it hadn’t years ago. Each move you made meant something, each step you took mattered, and you were careful to keep yourself in line as you navigated the return of Steve Harrington.

Regardless, things were going well. You were happy, Steve seemed to be happy, and your friendship seemed to pick up exactly where it left off - bitterness soothed by Steve’s continued effort to make you smile, his selflessness when it came to anticipating your desires.

The only question that lingered, that kept you awake at night, was how long you could continue holding yourself together. It was easy to pretend that you weren’t madly in love with Steve in his presence - you’d done it before, spent years madly in love with someone who you were supposed to hate - but everyone else could see right through you as your feelings eclipsed their pre-high school predecessor.

Robin saw it first, cheered so loud her mother had to tell you both to keep it down, and grinned every time Steve so much as nudged your shoulder. Eddie was next, groaned and grimaced and wrinkled his nose, but ultimately proved to be the more helpful of the two as he tried to listen and understand the mess of feelings tumbling around your brain. He picked apart the pieces of your frazzled thoughts, made sense of the feelings you were too afraid to untangle with anyone else, and ultimately kept you tied together as the months ticked by.

But as you stepped into Family Video, greeted by Steve with a hug and a bright smile, you wondered just how long the brittle thread wrapped around your fragile feelings would hold.

As Steve stepped away, drew to his full height and reached for the stack of tapes he’d dropped onto the counter to embrace you, he ignored the look Robin shot you both. He pointedly brushed past her without so much as a glance in her direction, ignored your snicker when she stuck her tongue out at him, and offered you a small smile as he placed a return on the shelf.

“You up for a movie tonight? I’ve heard Top Gun’s good.”

Behind him, Robin’s eyebrows winged up in surprise and it took every ounce of self control for yours not to do the same. Though your friendship had grown, had returned to something resembling your past relationship, there was little time spent together outside the comfort of a private space. Most of your time spent together was at his place, hidden away from your family and abandoned by his, or at the home of a friend - Robin or Eddie, the Wheeler residence, once. Family Video was the only public space you occupied together and that was only deemed safe as it was, almost always, empty.

The decision to remain hidden was not a conscious one - there was never a conversation in which you decided to hide, to avoid going to the movies or to dinner - but you’d been under the assumption that it was something unspoken, understood.

Now, as Steve raised an eyebrow at you, you wondered if the time just hadn’t been right.

“Tom Cruise is in it. Of course it’s going to be good.” Steve made a face, wrinkled his nose in faux disgust and rolled his eyes, but laughed as you reached out to nudge his shoulder. The reply was a touch brittle, a little stilted, but he seemed none the wiser as he waited patiently for your answer. “Can we do tomorrow night? Corroded Coffin is playing at The Hideout tonight. I promised Eddie I’d come ‘cause they’re playing a new song. You can come with, if you want. Though, I’m not sure how much fun you’ll have. They play metal covers and drink shitty beer with grumpy old dudes.”

Steve grimaced again, this one genuine, and shook his head. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass, but thanks.” He spared you a sideways glance, eyes roving the black jeans and Hellfire shirt you wore, before returning his attention to the shelf in front of him. “I get off at five tomorrow. Maybe we can make it to the six o’clock showing?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

When Robin retreated, muttering something about needing to clean shelves or stack boxes, Steve spared you a glance from the corner of his eye. His fingers tapped against the shelf - something of a nervous tic - as he schooled his features into a look of nonchalance that you saw through immediately.

There was something bothering him, a flicker of something sad - something hurt - but he hid it well as he shelved another return. “You should go for it.” When you raised a brow, unsure of what he meant, he continued, “Munson. You should go for it. You guys would be a good couple.” The declaration was quiet, as if he didn’t want to breathe it aloud, and your eyes widened.

“Eddie?” You nearly choked on your laughter as you shook your head, unable to help yourself, even as the tips of Steve’s ears tinted pink.

Plenty of rumors followed you in high school but that - the whisper that you were dating Eddie, that you were at least sleeping together - was the most pervasive. There’d never been anything more than friendship between you and you shook your head as you spared Steve an incredulous glance. “He’s not really my type.”

At this, Steve seemed to perk up, if only momentarily. A look of intrigue flashed so quick that you were almost certain you’d imagined it as he suddenly stared at the shelf as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Steve hadn’t displayed any interested in your love life, left that as the one topic untouched between the two of you, and you wondered where the change of heart had come from as you studied him.

“You trying to play matchmaker, Stevie? I can give you a list of what I like, might make it easier for you.”

The list would be short - compiled of one name, underlined for emphasis - and you had no plans to share it with him. Steve was the one who got away, always would be, and you had no interest in allowing him into your love life. And, as you anticipated, he scoffed.

Steve’s huff was wholly unconvincing, lacked the emphasis needed to convince you his advice stemmed from a totally selfless place, and you frowned as he shook his head. “I just want you to be happy,” he declared, voice going soft as he traced the spine of a tape. “You’re spending all your time with me, can’t be good for you,” he teased, though it sounded half-hearted, a self-deprecating joke that made you sigh.

You remained uncertain of where the sudden interest was coming from, what had brought about this sudden doubt, but before you could dig deeper, you saw Eddie’s van pull into the parking lot.

For the best, you decided to leave well enough alone and ask after the movie, in the safety of Steve’s car. With a roll of your eyes, you squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “You make me happy, Stevie. Spending time with you is good for me and I’m looking forward to doing it again tomorrow night. You picking me up?” Steve nodded, half-dazed by your response, and you laughed as you shook your head. “Perfect. See you tomorrow night, Harrington.”

As you rushed out of the store, eager to supply Eddie with the latest - and to hear his latest opinion; so far, he had alternated on his stance, oscillating wildly between encouragement and near begging for you to forget Steve Harrington - you swore you could hear Robin loudly ask, “So, are we going to talk about the ginormous elephant in the room or are we just going to pretend that you’re not totally in love with her?”

Followed instantly by a deadpan, “Shut up, Robin.”

Eddie seemed less enthusiastic - certain you were imagining the entire exchange, maybe hearing what you wanted instead of what was actually said - but nodded anyway, encouraging, this time. And as he drove to pick up the rest of Corroded Coffin, Black Sabbath blaring and cigarette smoke filling the interior of his van, you wondered.

Steve had sworn Robin was a good judge of character, could read people significantly better than she let on. Was this one of those cases - had she figured out something you hadn’t - or was this a case of her not being able to differentiate between platonic and romantic love? It had happened, she’d also believed you and Eddie to be hiding a romantic relationship but the interaction played on a loop as you sat amongst the crowd of drunks filling The Hideout.

He seemed anxious, worried, a little clipped when asking about Eddie - jealous, almost, if you were to believe the spark of hope ignited in your chest - but there was always the chance that it had nothing to do with romantic love. Steve, like you, now had few friends. You were the only one his age, the only one who’d known him longer than a handful of years, and he likely wanted to keep you in his life. Eddie was destined to leave Hawkins the moment he could; maybe Steve was worried you’d follow.

The time that you spent together was fleeting; there was a chance Steve worried a romantic relationship would impede your few moments of bliss. He might’ve been worried that you falling in love would destroy your desire to remain in his life, no longer interested in a friend like him when someone like Eddie existed.

Whatever the case, the interaction with Steve played on a loop until his car pulled into your driveway the next afternoon. He’d clearly been home, showered - removed the stale scent of Family Video, tapes and old popcorn - and smiled as you bounded across the driveway to his car before he could completely stop.

As you climbed into the passenger seat of his car, the sound of Metallica’s The Thing That Should Not Be made you pause. Steve noticed, flushed a brilliant pink, but said nothing as he pulled out of your driveway and began the journey to the theater.

When he remained quiet, you asked, “Stevie, are you listening to Metallica?”

Steve had been educated - played tape after tape by you and Eddie, schooled in the art of heavy metal as you smoked in the metalhead’s bedroom - but he hadn’t shown much of an interest in any of the bands you loved. He didn’t openly scoff, not anymore, but metal wasn’t exactly the genre of music Steve Harrington listened to on repeat.

To say that it was a surprise would be an understatement.

Still, he shrugged. “Eddie let me borrow the tape,” he admitted, unable to look at you. “You kept going on about it, figured I should give it a listen.” He made no effort to stop you from turning up the volume and, when you glanced at him expectantly, he rolled his eyes. “It’s not Hall and Oates, but it’ll do.”

You laughed, a bright sound that filled the car, and Steve grinned - glad to have made you smile. He made a few observations about the tape - mostly that he couldn’t really hear a difference in the songs, something that you knew he’d struggled with in your metal education sessions - and you assured him that it was alright if he truly didn’t like it. Regardless, he kept the tape playing in the background and you swore he smiled each time you bobbed your head and hummed along to the songs you were already so familiar with.

Despite how normal the night seemed - Steve rambling about work, mutter about Robin and the kids - there was something slightly off. It could’ve been your imagination, the effort you put into overthinking Steve’s every motivation for waltzing back into your life, but everything felt muted.

Steve’s energy as he bought popcorn and tickets - waved you off, asserted that you could get him back next time, though you both knew he wouldn’t allow it - was low and he remained uncharacteristically quiet as he guided you through the lobby to the theater. It was almost as if he were nervous, watching his hands as he pressed one to the small of your back, weighing his words as he leaned over to whisper thoughts about the trailers.

There were moments of pure Steve, bright energy where he pondered what his call sign would be - easily declared yours to be sunshine, no need changing it now - and shoveled popcorn into his mouth. But you could tell his attention wasn’t entirely on the film.

For you, it was difficult to focus on anything other than his presence - the scent of his hair products, the warmth of his body pressed to yours, the spice of his cologne, the soft brush of his short against your skin - and the questions that had echoed since leaving Family Video the day before.

The movie passed in a blur - a mess of pilot jargon you didn’t understand, a handful of scenes that made you roll your eyes - but Steve seemed to enjoy himself. He laughed, grinned a little in places, and frowned at all the right scenes. To you, however, the only thing worth note was the way he remained glued to your side, arm slung over your shoulders and knee pressed to yours.

And as you left the theater, though his chatter was a little more scattered than normal - less focused, a little more erratic, a little louder - Steve dominated the conversation and seemed not to notice your silence. He debated his call sign, shot out ideas before immediately scrapping them, and tapped the wheel as he drove along quiet roads back to your home.

Instead of joining, you sat quietly and wondered how badly you would destroy the fragile new bond of your relationship if you simply asked Steve what the hell you were doing together.

When Steve pulled into the driveway of your home, placed the car in park and turned down the radio, he shifted to face you. Warm brown eyes searched your face, desperate for an answer to a question he had yet to ask and you knew that now was the time you’d been waiting for. “You’ve been quiet,” he pointed out, eyebrows pinched. “What’s on your mind?”

The thought of playing coy, of beating around the bush and pretending that you had no idea what he was referring to, was tempting. Asking the question that had been plaguing you for weeks - months, even - had the potential to ruin whatever delicate thing you’d been building.

At the same time, there was no point in maintaining a relationship that made you afraid to speak. Steve was a friend - a good one, at that, having proven himself in the short time you’d been reacquainted - and he deserved an honest answer.

“I guess I’ve just been wondering why.” Steve tilted his head, searching for the missing context, and you sighed as you twisted one of the silver rings adorning your fingers. “I’m glad that we’re… us again. I’m glad that we’re trying to go back to what we had. I just… It’s been so long. I can’t help but wonder, why now.”

Steve sighed, long suffering and far too serious for someone who had less than an hour earlier wondered what his call sign might be, as he raked a hand through his hair. “I tried,” Steve admitted, voice quiet as he turned to face you. “Not hard enough, but I tried. After… After I got my ass kicked, things kind of fell into perspective. I realized what mattered, what didn’t. You always mattered to me, sunshine. Even when I had my head up my ass. I was… disappointed in myself, I think. For treating you the way I did. And I guess I was selfish, hoping enough time had passed that it would be easier for you to forgive me now. I never forgot about you, about us.”

The explanation was more than you’d imagined it would be, something heavier than you expected, and you swallowed the emotion bubbling in the back of your throat as Steve offered you a half smile.

“Even when I didn’t want to understand, I did. I knew what you were doing, why you were doing it. If I hadn’t been so pissed at my parents, I probably would’ve been right there with you,” you admitted, voice melding with the quiet sound of Metallica. “I never forgot about you, either. And I think I would’ve accepted the apology a long time ago.” You paused for a moment, desperate to give yourself a little room to breathe, before you added, “I’m kind of glad you waited, though. Don’t think Hellfire would’ve let me back in if I’d been hanging out with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

It was a necessary moment of levity, a laugh you both needed, and Steve shook his head fondly as he met your eyes. “I think I’ve got Eddie’s approval now,” he teased, smiling softly as he reached for your hand. His fingers brushed the metal of one of your rings - one that had replaced his tiny plastic ring years ago - as he lifted his head to meet your eyes. “He can see right through people. Realized how I felt before I did, I think.”

Your breath caught in your throat, slightly confused and anxious as to how Steve would answer your question. Your hand shook in his grasp, fingers trembling even as he brushed soothing circles over your heated skin, and he smiled encouragingly as he waited for your response. “And how do you feel?”

Steve’s smile faltered slightly, just enough to make you wrap your fingers around his in an encouraging squeeze, as he laughed. “I feel like an idiot. I’ve wasted so much time, searching for someone to love me for me, when you’ve been there all along. I… I had a crush on you, when we were kids,” he admitted, eyes meeting yours - warm brown glittering in the dim light from your porch. “I used to tell my mom that I was going to marry you someday. You were my first love and I don’t think my feelings have changed.” Time seemed to crawl to a stop, the universe seemed to cease existing, as Steve lifted a hand to your cheek. Soft fingers brushed your skin as he whispered, “I think I’m still in love with you.”

The hammering of your heart echoed loudly in your ears, beat wildly against your ribcage and threatened to shatter the little pieces holding you in place. It was difficult to focus on Steve’s confession, difficult to make sense of it, and you wondered if this was all some sort of dream.

As his fingers tangled with yours, warm hand encompassing your trembling fingers, you knew that it was real. He was patient, waited with a ghost of a smile for you to speak, and you foundered to find something adequate to say.

“Steve.”

This time, as the words stuck in your throat - so close to breaking free, so easy to say, admit just as he’d admitted his own love - Steve nodded, smile bright. “I know,” he assured you, voice soft as his hand lifted to your cheek. “I know, sunshine.”

Steve leaned forward, crossed the gap between your seats, and waited patiently for you to make the final decision. It was up to you - this whole process had been up to you, on your terms, and you realized that Steve was handing over control without a moment of hesitation. Whatever happened, he wanted it to be on your terms, and you were grateful for that as you closed the distance and pressed your mouth to his.

Steve’s fingers pressed into the apple of your cheek, splayed across your jawline and held you tight - as if he were afraid you might disappear if he let go. When you broke apart to breathe, he pressed his forehead to yours and grinned.

“I love you, sunshine. I know it hasn’t always seemed that way but I promise, you’ll never have to question it again.”

The declaration was strong, certain, and you believed wholeheartedly that Steve was telling the truth. Regardless of how things had changed, of how your lives had drifted only to return to each others’ orbit, Steve’s promise meant something.

This time, when Steve swore that he wouldn’t let go - that you would never question his love again - you believed him.

____________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry. This got so out of hand. I just had a lot of Steve thoughts. Back to your regularly scheduled Eddie now, though.

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