Movie Night 🌙
This is just so good bruhhhh

roma★
$LAYYYTER

Andulka
Xuebing Du
occasionally subtle
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

tannertan36
we're not kids anymore.

Product Placement

Discoholic 🪩
No title available
NASA

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
YOU ARE THE REASON

⁂

Kaledo Art

pixel skylines
Claire Keane
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Not today Justin

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from France

seen from Canada
seen from Russia
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Türkiye

seen from Netherlands

seen from Philippines
seen from United States

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@strangerweirdo15
Movie Night 🌙
This is just so good bruhhhh
Guysssssss holy shit
New girl fic Stranger things AU
Steve as nick
Eddie as Schmidt
Dustin as Winston
Reader is Jess
Reader a teacher. She is 23-24
Steve a bar tender taking night classes for elementary education/ sports related. He’s 24
Eddie working an internship at a music label- he’s 24
Dustin in college. He’s 20
Chrissy could be Cece
Could take place in New York instead of LA
This scene ahhhhhhh
Steve Harrington x Fem Buckley! Reader
Teaser
Heyyy,
I'm so excited to start this story I've been building the plot over the last week. I'm still building the plot and structure but I wanted to introduce this. I expect 12 chapters but this is subject to change.
I have started writing and chapter one will be out next week, I'm doing finals and spring break starts so I can focus on it. After that I hope to put out a chapter a week. I started an Avatar series too and I will continue working on it but this one will be the priority. That's all for now
-Anna<3
Synopsis: The one thing Steve Harrington didn’t expect when his Best Friend, Robin Buckley told him her cousin was coming to live in Hawkins was that he would fall in love with her. To souls both yearning for home and stability cross paths and end up falling into each other's orbit. Overcoming struggles, wounds, and fear of losing the ones they love. Together they change, and create an unlikely friendship. What will happen when they are forced to confront their connection and these new feelings?
Mood Bored
Setting-takes place at the end of summer Season 3 1985, to about 1991
Chapter Names:
Welcome To Hawkins
Have yourself a Merry little Christmas
Flipped, Upside down
Stay, Please
After
Rockin Robin, and crew
Anniversary
You, and me
Stevie (the lighting bug)
Come back to me
Yours, always
My sweet Magnolia
STARS IN YOUR EYES
Pair: Neteyam Sully x Youngest Daughter! of Ronal and Tonowari
Summary: After the sully family lands in Awa’atlu, Neteyam, eldest son of Jake and Neteriri, the mighty warrior, the man who holds too much on his shoulder has discovered his only weakness. Luna, the youngest daughter of the Metkayina leaders. New relationships, misunderstandings, and true love. She is authentically herself and won’t let anyone try to change who she is. What happens when the soft sky watcher falls for the hardened warrior?
Warning- Probably some for future chapters but not really any right now. There will be direct movie dialogue, mostly in the first chapters.
Q/A- Luna is the nickname everyone in the village calls her.
Word Count: 2.2k
Date Posted: 3/12/26. Chapter 1/10
———————————————————————————
Chapter 1: Moon Girl
You sat back leaning against the soft sand staring up at the sky. The stars felt brighter tonight. But that’s what you said every night.
“Incredible”
You whisper to no one in particular. Maybe to the sky. This was your favorite time of day. The one you got to bask in the moon light.
It was calm and peaceful. No one to try and bother you. No one ever understood the way you could gaze at the sky for hours on end. They gave you the nickname Luna. You didn’t mind though, people’s perception of you will never shift, they will never know how the sky speaks to you.
How it recharges you, brings you comfort. Constantly changing but always there and constant, it was a breath of air. Relief, a calm you couldn’t explain if you tried.
————
Not too long after your quiet conversation with the sky. your mother called out to you.
“Daughter” - she shook her head and chuckled watching you gaze at the sky.
You snapped out of the trance, “sorry mother”
You stood up quickly heading towards the entrance of the marui(home).
Looking back once more. Something about the stars tonight felt different like something was calling to you, a whisper about to happen but nothing said. You turned and entered the marui(home) with your family to sleep.
————
The next morning you were out with Tsireya diving with the ilu. When the shell sounded throughout the clan. Glancing up you see the most majestic looking creature. Ikran they looked as if paint was thrown on it, an array of vibrant bright colors.
Tsireya was also gazing at the sky.
“Come sister let us go see what is happening”
You turned from the sky. Gliding through the water back to the main shore.
Upon coming closer you see the visitors. Their skin a richer deep blue. Forest na’vi. Slipping off your ilu you slide under water quickly rising up in the ocean. The family is making their way towards the shore. There is a man and a woman, next to them 4 children.
Your eyes only stay on them for a moment before your gaze shifts and lands on a boy. You think you might have actually felt your breath leave your body.
He was already looking at you.
A hardened demeanor, his eyes a bright yellow that shine like the stars above the ocean late at night, his shoulders broad, his stance strong next to who you assume is his father.
He locks eyes with you. His demeanor shifts slightly, no one else would notice but you do. You feel flushed immediately, a small gasp leaving your body, a flustered smile on your lips. He tilts his head and slightly smirks at you. You break eye contact and slide in next to your sister.
Your brother Ao’nung and his friend Rotxo approach them and start to tease the children about their tails. Tsireya smacks Ao’nung. You walk over to them. “Be kind brother” you huff.
The younger brother looks at your sister. “Hey” he says. Tsrieya giggles and looks away.
You look over and see your father approaching.
“Jake Sully” your father exclaims.
“Tonowari”, Jake says
They all exchange the -i see you greeting.
You then see your mother slowly approaching. Something sharp in her eye.
“I see you Ronal Tsahik of the Metkayina”
“I see you Ronal”
“Why do you come to us Jake sully”
“We seek Uturu”, says Jake
“Uturu?”, your mother huffs
“We are reef people, you are forest people, your skills will mean nothing here”, your father looks at your mother who is slowly circling the family.
“We will learn your way, right?”, Jake looks back at his family.
Your mother grabs the woman, Neytiri’s tail as they exchange a heated glance.
“Their arms are thin. Their tails are weak. You will be slow in the water…. These children are not even true Na’vi”
There are quite gasps amongst the crowd.
“Yes, we are”, the eldest girl says, taking her hand for your mothers grasp.
She grasps the younger boy's hand. “They have demon blood”. Growls come from the crowd.
“Look.. look I was born of the sky people and now I am Na’vi. You can adapt. We can adapt”, Jake panics.
“My husband was Toruk Makto. He led the clans to victory against the sky people”, Neytiri says proudly.
“This you call victory? Hiding amongst strangers…. It seems Eywa has turned her back on you chosen one”, your mother states.
The woman and your mother hiss at each other.
You feel like you can’t breathe, the tension is so high.
“I apologize for my mate- “ do not apologize for me”-“She has flown a long way and is exhausted”… “Jake”
Your father grasps Jake’s shoulder. “ Toruk Makto is a Great War leader. All Na’vi people know his story. But we Metkayina- are not at war”…. “We cannot let you bring your war here”
“I’m done with war, okay?.. iIjust want to keep my family safe”
“Uturu has been asked”, says Neytiri.
Your mother and father exchange a wordless conversation amongst themselves.
“Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us. Treat them as our brothers and sisters. They do not know the sea. So they will be like babies taking their first breath. Teach them our ways so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.”
“Thank you” they all exclaim.
“My son Ao’nung and our daughters Tsireya and Luna will show your children what to do.
“Father-”
“it had been decided”
“Come we will show you our village”, Tsireya says.
You look up and make eye contact with the boy, Neteyam you heard his father call him. You then turn and start walking with your sister.
After showing the family their new home
You depart.
————
Leaving the Sully family to get settled, you and Tsireya walked off.
You nudged her shoulder “I saw you giggle at the younger one”
A slight blush creeped onto her face. She smiled at you. “Do not think I didn’t see you staring at the other one like you might pass out”
You turned your head at her “I- I did no such thing”
“Oh little sister, you might be shy but you are obvious”, she starts giggling while heat blooms on your cheeks. Her laugh is infectious and not long after you guys start giggling together.
You both stop laughing and you look at her.
“Can I tell you something sister”, you say almost in a whisper.
“Of course”, she says softly.
You look back toward Sully's marui dreamily
“I think that forest boy was made in the stars”, you say with a dopey smile on your face. She looks at you knowingly. You are her little sister. She knows you better than anyone.
“Oh my little Luna, you are special”, she says before you guys continue towards your home.
What you did not see was Neteyam looking at you depart from afar. His heart was pounding. He did not understand what this feeling was. When he walked on the shore with his family and saw you appear in the water. He felt his chest tighten. You were like the rare syulang(flower).
He turned his head away from where you were walking away with your sister and whispered “Eywa”
The Lo’ak snickered next to him.
“Oh be quiet skxawang(idiot), like you can talk”
Neteyam tried to imitate Lo’ak nonchalant greeting “Hey”
Lo’ak stopped laughing. “….alright bro”
————
The sun was almost settled. Casting the last of the orange glow across the ocean and village. Night was approaching, and you made your way out onto the dock to do your nightly watch.
You felt like your breath could finally settle. A lot of change happened today, but at least the sky didn’t move. Leaning back on your hands entranced by the sky you didn’t not hear the footsteps approaching behind you.
“Hi”, a deep voice said calmly behind you.
You yelped, shocked by the presence of another and jumped slightly toward the end of the dock. To caught up in the moment you did not realize how far you jumped and started falling downward towards the water below.
You were bracing for impact, when a hand caught your wrist. Tugging you upright slightly as you fell into a hard steady chest. Gasping slightly.
You gazed up. The forest boy looking down at you.” Be careful” he says. You look at him and your face quirks. “Careful? You're the one who snuck up on me like a skimwing(ocean creature)” you huffed. Then realized you were still grasping his hand you let go and took a step back. He shook his head slightly, a smile on his lips. His lips that looked soft- which you had definitely been looking at too long now.. you ripped your gaze away looking anywhere else.
“You are right, sorry for scaring you”
“It- it is okay” your voice returned to its smaller quiet volume.
You sit back down in your previous position. What you do not expect is for the forest boy to sit down right next to you. You glance over once before returning your gaze upwards to the sky.
A few moments of silence pass between you.
“My name is Neteyam”, he says looking at you.
A smile takes place on your face, you turn your gaze to him.
“I know”, you said softly.
“..Hi Neteyam”
He looked at you for a second gaze unreadable. Though for him he was thinking about the way you said his name like it was important. His heart was beating faster than normal.
“Your name is Luna?”, he questions
You shake your head. This intrigued him.
“No”, you told him your name.
“Why do they call you Luna?”
You looked up to the sky, he followed your gaze to the bright moon peaking through the night.
“Moon”, he says.
You continue to stare up, absorbing the moon light. You say nothing and lay on your back against the woven flooring. You’re not surprised when he follows your path. Laying on his back only a few inches from you.
He is different, there is a magnetic pull between you too like the moon to the tides. All day you can not get his face out of your mind, the color of his eyes, how they are fierce yet gentle in a way he won’t let anyone purposefully see, but you can see it. You notice little things like that.
Being the youngest has its perks as much as it doesn’t. You are not the first born, not even the first girl. Your family loves you and you love them but you have always been different. You do not like what extreme responsibility does to people. They way they worry. They way it makes them speed up and not see the details. You are loved but also overlooked. Not forgotten but not always remembered.
You look to your side and take in Neteyam's presence.
“You promise you won’t tell anyone”
He sees a look behind your eyes, vulnerability peeking through.
“I promise”
And even though you barely know the forest boy you feel safe for some weird reason.
“The sky does not talk, not really at least. Down here it is loud, things are always moving but when night approaches people end their days. Go home. When the moon has just started hers. So I sit here and look. I look at the endless stars that shine across the horizon. She is at peace, has the freedom to be…Even though she is so far away she pulls the ocean. It is beautiful, is it not?”
You twist your head to find Neteyam already looking at you.
“I have never heard anyone talk like that”
“Was it a bad thing”, your brows furrow realizing you might have over shared and embarrassed yourself.
He sees the panic on your face and reaches his hand to settle on yours. You were a little taken aback by the gesture but relaxed after a second.
“No, no it is not bad”, he hesitates, grabbing your hand gently.
“That was a beautiful way to describe it”
Your cheeks flush deeply. And you let out a soft giggle.
Neteyam smiles at that.
“Neteyam”, you both turn your heads hearing his father calling his name from a distance.
He releases your hand quickly and you frown at the gesture. He stiffens. Like he’s remembering he is not allowed to do this. Sit down even for a second, relax, let his guard down. You stand looking at him a little hurt. He turns to you.
“I am sorry I have to go”, his voice is back to a guarded tone.
“Oh.. okay”, you say softly, suddenly feeling rather shy
He sees your posture drop, his chest tightened. But before he can say anything he hears his fathers voice closer this time.
He starts walking away. But turns back after only a couple steps.
“Goodnight moon girl”
You can hear his voice return to that soft one he was using a minute ago and you glance up at him with a soft smile.
“Goodnight forest boy”
You exhaled a breath you did not even know you were holding.
He finally turns and walks away.
You stay there for a little while longer looking up at the sky. Letting your heart speak.
“I see the sky in his heart”
“Luna”, Ronal calls
You stand on your feet and make your way home. Your steps feel lighter like a new adventure is awaiting.
“Goodnight”
You say allowed into the open sky. Before entering Marui. The flap shuts behind you.
———————————————————————————
Hiiii!
I hope you enjoyed the story, I’m still coming up with this plot but I wanted to put something out.
Not too sure where I’ll take it yet but hopefully some future angst, maybe a hint of miscommunication. I want to sort of follow the plot of AWOW, like the war. Don’t worry I’m not killing Neteyam, I never would.
Anyways lmk if you guys have any advice or ideas etc all love appreciated. Also please be kind. This is only my second time ever writing a story.
don't kiss and tell masterlist
steve harrington x reader fanfiction | fratboy!steve | platonic!stobin (i promise) | mentions of cheating (but it's not real cheating) | mean!steve, playboy!steve | sort of friends to enemies to fwb to lovers | slowish burn | angst | hurt ... eventual comfort summary: When you find out your college roommate/friend robin buckley's boyfriend, steve harrington— who you thought beat all stereotypical frat boy odds— is cheating on her, you find it hard to understand why she still wants to be with him. But there is more than meets the eye. You aren't sure if you want to be roped into it.
Teaser Rules/Playlist Chapter one Chapter two Chapter three Chapter four Chapter five Chapter six Chapter seven Chapter eight Chapter nine Chapter ten Chapter eleven Chapter twelve Chapter thirteen Chapter fourteen Chapter fifteen (coming soon) Chapter sixteen Chapter seventeen
This had me captivated. Genuinely I love this dynamic and these characters, the author has built. 💐💐
my knight| knight! neteyam sully
pairing: knight! neteyam sully x fem! princess! na'vi! reader!
word count: 15.8 k
warnings: fluff, angst, reader gets hurt, emotional, blood, humans, protective neteyam, mentions of death, destruction, knifes, fighting, guns, war, destruction, smut!, oral, mating, p in v,
summary: every two years since the age of 13 you have been assigned a knight to protect you and guide you. when you are 17 you meet your new knight, neteyam sully. you quickly realise he is not like your previous knights, developing a close bond with him. on the day of your 18th birthday, your clan gets ambushed, leading to neteyam having to drag you away from the destruction- leaving the two of you alone.
masterlist!
LITTLE FIRE PART 2 N. Sully
part 1
synopsis: neteyam keeps his word in telling Lo'ak the two of you will never be mated, but in the overwhelm of war emotions slip that leave lo'ak questioning his brother's word
genre: smut with plot, lo'ak's bestfriend!reader, virgin!reader (she is of age pls), neteyam somewhat differs from movie canon in this (this is much more comic neteyam accurate), he's just a bit of an ass toward lo'ak basically, fem!reader, neteyam is more submissive in this 🫦
warnings: p in v, first time sex, brief pussy eating but not majorly explicit, mentions of guns/violence/war
a/n: thank u guys sm for all the love on my last part of this fic🥺🥺 it warms my heart. buttttt i lowkey am planning on writing a part 3 and (possibly) an epilogue to this fic lololol so enjoy
Neteyam had kept his word.
After a much too long conversation, but little actual convincing needed, tucked away in the shade beneath the bananut trees that had your knuckles turning teal from how hard you dug your nails into your palms, the two of them had worked things out without you needing to claw Lo'ak from his brother's face, or step in at all.
Things were back to normal with your bestfriend, and to your utmost surprise, he had actually gone out of his way to apologise to you. Fruit in hand, held out to you like a peace offering and a bash smile on his lips— "I'm sorry for not talking to you. I know you would never.." His head had flicked over his shoulder, casting a look toward Neteyam's flexed back as he gathered various fibres for the bowstrings you had all been tasked with making, before turning back on you with more confidence in his grin. "..you know."
It had been a punch in the gut, a reminder of all the sleep you were losing over the past couple days wondering how you could have kept this from Lo'ak, how you could betray him so carelessly. But eywa, any worry or guilt that consumed you in your time spent alone seemed to melt away at the sight of Neteyam's shoulders as he carried enough fibres to make at least 20 bowstrings each for the entire village with ease.
At times, you felt like a woman possessed. Just a vessel of a body for all the desire you felt toward one man, want and need mixing into one until the only thought you could muster in time away from one another is how badly you needed him in front of you again. Above you, below you, beside you, pressed between your legs after a long and tiresome day.
As long as the sun still shone her blessings on the forest, you pretended as though things were normal. As though you still resented one another, and in truth you kind of did. Resented him for being so fucking addicting, for swooping in and changing the trajectory of your life with simple touches that only engraved his existence further into your being so that now, you find yourself missing instead of rejoicing whenever he leaves.
And now, you hadn't known night to be your favourite time of day until the darkness in the sky meant the feel of Neteyam's lips on your skin.
His kisses are soft, gentle closes of his mouth against your thigh and you sigh at the contact, silently bathing in the afterglow of it all as if that might stretch the time longer. As if your silence will make the night last longer and the day come scarcer, as if being in his presence long enough will have everything falling into place by morning.
Wishful thinking that you don't want to let yourself slip too far into.
You groan, head tipped back against the moss that runs over your ears like cloth on a pillow, and make a false attempt at pushing at the crown of his head, fingers carding delicately through his braids.
"Neteyam—"
The finality in your voice earns a whine from him, all to aware of what's to come, and he turns to bury his nose into the other side of your parted legs as if that may keep you here for longer.
"I have to get back. If my parents awake they will wonder where I am."
"Tell them you were with me." His eyes flick up to meet yours and you nearly give in at the sight of them— this insatiable hunger he seems to have for you still evident despite the fact he's already had you coming apart on his face more than once tonight.
"Nice try. My dad might skin you, as would Lo'ak skin me."
"You do not have to tell them what we were doing." He explains, despite the teasing in his voice, and runs a palm up to grip each of your legs, pressing a kiss to your glistening cunt that still twitches in the aftershocks of your pleasure before him. You try to pull away, but his arms lock around your legs and hold you still. "Tell them that we were out weaving."
"Weaving? At this hour?" You mock his stupidity, but the girlish smile that creeps onto your lips is impossible to hide.
"I like to be ahead of things."
"Then you should begin planning your funeral now if that is the story you are willing to go with."
He finally relents and allows you to sit up, swerving around him until you're sitting on your knees in front of him. He lays back on his elbows, a dopey smirk on his face and his tail flicking lazily at your thigh. "Perhaps I should plan yours seeing as I will be away on hunting trips more frequently."
Your brows furrow, a sour frown forming on your face. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"That I will not be here to save you or my brother each time the two of you do something to get yourselves killed." That familiar smug grin raises at you and you curse yourself for the heat it ignites in your belly instead of the urge to slap him.
You turn your head, only allowing him a petulant look through your brow bone in attempt to seem unbothered. "Who says we will need your saving?"
"You do." He answers, simply.
Your head shoots up, "What? Why me? Why not Lo'ak? He is the baby, not me!"
"And yet you are the one that cries for my help."
"I do not!" You raise, your attempt at seeming untouched suddenly forgotten as he finds a new way to get under your skin. "Name one time I have done that!"
He pretends to think, lips pursing and eyes looking up toward the tree line, before settling on you again with a look that reads he knows he is about to win. "When you nearly killed my brother by taking him right toward a hive of hellfire wasps." He raises a brow in question, despite the fact he knows what happened and is planning on using it against you.
"I was six! And you were supposed to be watching us!"
"You were supposed to stay where I could see you."
"We hated you breathing down our necks all the time, we thought it would be fun to sneak off!"
"So then it is your fault for sneaking, no?" He hums, content that he's got you where he wanted and you will soon have to accept defeat.
"It is your fault for not watching." You cross your arms over your chest like a child and he actually laughs out loud at the sight of you, making you snap your head back to face him.
"It may, but I'm sure I remember somebody crying out for the big mighty warrior's help afterward."
You cave, throwing your head back with a sigh, "Whatever, you win!" and his eyes light up at your admission. "How do you even remember all this stuff, anyway? Don't you have more important things, like combat tactics or something?"
"Combat tactics?" He huffs a laugh and you wave your hand.
"You know what I meant."
His face falls into something more genuine and he leans up a little higher on his elbows until he's a little below eye level, bringing a hand up to cup your jaw and swipe a few stray strands of hair from your cheek. "I remember everything you do." It's simple, matter-of-fact, like it's just something you're supposed to know, to have known all the time, and it makes something raw and unknown bloom in your chest.
You can't help but kiss him, swallowing up the admission from his lips and tasting the sweetness of it on your tongue. His large hand slides up the back of your head, cradling it in his huge palm and guiding you against his mouth like a wooden doll until you have to pull back for air.
"I seriously have to go." You barely manage to get out between his attacks, palms splayed against his chest to try to keep him at bay long enough that you can catch your breath or make a run for it, though you both know you wouldn't dare.
After another hard shove to his chest, he pulls back. "I will walk you."
"Can't, Lo'ak's supposed to be meeting me to watch the sunrise over the riverbank."
Neteyam quirks a brow, "It's not a date, is it?"
"Don't be ridiculous." You roll your eyes, slapping his shoulder, but he grabs hold of your wrist and pulls you in for another kiss before whispering against your lips.
"Make sure you remind him to keep his hands to himself, or I will."
"Alright, everybody take a knee." Jake's tired and dragged out voice bellows through the tent and the Suli siblings, you included, are fumbling to sit their ass down before giving him something else to complain about.
Neteyam strolls in behind him, back straight and tail poised, and sinks slowly to a crouch beside his Father, head bowed slightly toward the floor. His eyes rake over Tuk, who shoots him a pout as if to say 'how are you letting this happen?' but he takes no notice, directing her toward his Father with a flick of his chin in his direction.
"There's been some slacking going on, avoidance of responsibility and you guys are quite frankly behaving like children." Neytiri's slender frame slinks through the opening of the tent and Jake acknowledges her with a tight smile as she rounds the circle to stand behind Tuk, placing two hands on her shoulders in comfort. Jake seems slightly irritated by this, but continues anyway, "I didn't want to have to have this talk with any you, but you leave me no choice as it seems there's no other way I can get you to listen." His head sinks and he clears his throat, like he doesn't really want to continue but knows it is the vital thing to do. "Since your brother's Uniltaron, we are expected to be at war with a neighbouring clan."
"Ma Jake—" Neytiri hisses, but he silences her with a raised hand and continues.
"They are not like us. They do not share the same values, or respect for the sanctity of life as we do. They have weaponry, machines gifted by the RDA before their return to earth and they will not hold back, and they will not show mercy. They will kill you. No matter if you are a just a boy," He says, eyeing Lo'ak, before his eyes shift to you and Kiri beside him, "or a woman, or a child." He finishes on Tuk, where Neytiri grips her shoulders tighter to halt their trembling.
"Each and every one of you needs to be ready, and that starts with listening to me and your Mother and doing the things I tell you to do when I tell you." He directs the last part toward you and Lo'ak, who nod softly in time with one another. Lo'ak's tail strokes against yours in its' fidgeting and you silently grip his pinkie finger in your three fingered hold, a promise of unity unspoken between the two of you.
"Are we understood?" Jake asks, looking between all of you, awaiting answer. Neteyam is the first, a curt 'Yes Sir.', despite already having been privy to this conversation before it took place. Followed by you and Lo'ak, who eyes his brother with the same desperate look Tuk had. Neteyam gives him a nod, an 'It will be okay, I will make sure of it.' nod, and the boy visibly relaxes a little beside you.
"Kiri?" Jake calls out to her, his voice suddenly much softer, leaning forward to place a hand on her arm that wraps over her knees, pulling them tightly to her chest.
"Yes, I understand." She mumbles and Neytiri takes a hand from Tuk's shoulder to stroke over her eldest daughter's hair.
Jake turns to Tuk, who nods another small "I understand." without being told and Jake leans forward to softly kiss her head.
"Alright, you're all dismissed." He stays put in his crouched position, as does Neteyam, and Kiri is the first to leave, making her way straight for the healer's tent where she knows Mo'at will be found. Neytiri leads Tuk, taking her out of the intense atmosphere of the tent and leaving only you, Jake and his two sons, crouched together in heavy silence.
Lo'ak looks up toward his Father, voice strained like he's expecting a dressing down for even asking. "Dad, this clan. Who are they?"
"Mangkwan." Jake answers, honestly and the colour must have drained from your face because the look Neteyam gives you is high alert.
"The scavengers?" Lo'ak's brows furrow. "Why? What do they want with us? The Windtrader's ships are abandoned by the cliff edge, they ransacked it for everything it had."
"I don't know." Jake sighs, irritated like he's already tried to answer that question for himself a hundred times over the last couple of days. "Your brother has been on night watch the past couple of days and has seen little yet, but we can't expect them not to come here seeking out whoever shot those arrows."
Your wide eyes flit up to meet Neteyam's at Jake's admission, who looks down a little guiltily but says nothing in the confined space.
"Wasn't anyone with you? The night your vision came true?" Lo'ak turns to Neteyam, whose head is currently bowed towards his feet.
"You know that I was on my own. You have asked me this at least a hundred times."
"But, how did nobody else see it happen? Or even hear? We could have tracked them, see where they went!"
"And what then? We walk into their homes guns blazing and hope that they lay down their weapons and refuse war?" Jake hisses, "Think about what you're going to suggest before you say it, boy."
Lo'ak's brows pinch together like he wants to fight it, but says nothing. "Olo'eyktan?" Your meek voice pipes up beside him and Jake's head snaps to you like he had forgotten you were there, but his slightly warmer expression gives you permission to speak. "Forgive me, but.. it sounds as though we are to just wait around until they attack?"
The wrinkles in his forehead smoothen and his head cocks slightly forward, large hands wringing together. "Neteyam and the other warriors, including me, are on look out from sunrise until sunset. If anything were to happen, we would have it under control." He nods along with himself and inevitably you copy, feeling at least a tiny bit comforted from his words. "The only thing you two knuckleheads have to worry about is staying out of trouble, you got that?" His brows shoot up, though his tone remains much warmer than before and if you were in a lower stake situation you likely would have smiled.
"Yes sir."
"It doesn't make any sense." Lo'ak grunts, kicking at a stray rock with his toes and sending it skipping across the water, leaving little ripples in its wake. "My Dad says that they're coming here to wage war with us, but he doesn't even know why!"
Your eyes flutter closed, heavy head rested in your hand, but Lo'ak takes no notice, continuing his ranting.
"Or maybe, he does know and he's just not telling us!" His tail peeks up like he's just discovered a particularly bright idea and his entire body turns to face you, finger pointing periodically toward your closed eyes to emphasise his point. "I bet Neteyam knows, and not us."
"Why would you event want to know?" You sigh, exhausted and over his little tantrum.
"What's that supposed to mean?" He frowns.
You set your eyes on him, that same exasperated look in them as his brother's whenever he continuously goes against orders. "It's not easy having that kind of weight on your shoulders, and I'm willing to bet if Neteyam or your Dad aren't telling you something it's for pretty good reason."
You're speaking partly from your own perspective, drowning in the knowing that you had seen them. You had seen all those Windtrader's fly out the side of sinking ships and you allowed Neteyam to erase you from his retelling of the story just to save your own ass. It was weighing on you, and consequently stretching your patience thinner than usual when it came to Lo'ak's whining.
"Jesus, what crawled down your loincloth?" He scoffs, and you snap, two hands hitting the dirt beside you and pushing you to your feet.
"What crawled down my loincloth is that your Dad just told us we're about to be at war! Does that even register to you!?"
He pulls back, face contorting into something you'd only ever seen after his brother unfairly reprimanded him, the look of 'you're not supposed to be the one to do this' that comes from someone expecting you to be different. Knowing the only person who wouldn't dare, who would never turn on them, is already well on the way to becoming an asshole like the rest of them.
"You sound like my brother." His voice is quieter, flat and defeated and that disgusted curl in his lip seems more prominent now.
But you're already too heated, too worked up by all of this and holding too many secrets that even the look on his face isn't enough to rein you in. "Yeah, well maybe because he's right sometimes, Lo'ak? Do you ever think about that?"
His face falls flat and the curl in his lip disappears, just a blank look like he can't even think of the right expression to pull. Your lip quivers and you want to die when those stupidly expressive brows of his pull upward, fingers folding into fists at his sides and watching over you with the kind of pity you should never see in the eyes of somebody who's supposed to be an equal.
"I'm sorry, Lo'ak." You collapse, too strung by everything at once to even wince when your butt hits the harsh dirt with a thump. "I just—" You shake your braids, ears flicking downward and beads clanking as Lo'ak carefully takes a seat beside you, watching you with the most care you'd ever seen him give anything. "We didn't do a lot last time. With the RDA, we just.. sat there. We let it happen and we caused more trouble for the people that were actually doing something. And now— I just wish there was something we could do, y'know? For our us, for our families, for—" Neteyam's name swipes across your tongue but you hold it. You turn to face him and he gives you a small nod, "For the people." You finish, and Lo'ak can't help but accept defeat once more, eyes tracking down to study his feet as if that might distract him from how right you always have to be.
There's silence for a little while, the two of you sitting through it all, but most importantly you do so together. Just like you had done every hard, horrible, miserable thing for the 18 years you'd known eachother. You rode it out, just the two of you, until Lo'ak came up with whatever he came up with as a way of cheering you up, and damn him, it always worked.
You sense the way his shoulders perk up before anything else. "I know what that means." You shoot him a look through the side of your face. "What's your big plan?"
He gives you a grin that does little to hide his unease, but it's enough to make you smile at his perseverance. "You said you wish there was something we can do, so we will do something." He says it like it's simple, and before you go to speak he cuts you off with two hands raised in surrender. "I know what you're gonna say, and no, I don't know what or how yet. But trust me, I'll figure something out! And when I do, you're my first call."
"Whatever, skxawng." You tease, but you knew that tone, that look. Lo'ak was going to do whatever it took to make this right. To prevent his people from ever having to go through the pain the RDA brought ever again. To protect you, his family. And to finally be able to look his Dad, and his arrogant elder brother, in the eye and watch as they congratulate him, as they see him, for the first time.
Your feet carry you that evening with little thought.
They sit you on the ground at dinner, twitching beneath crossed legs as you pretend to listen to whatever Lo'ak is jabbering on about beside you. Your fingers do the same, bringing handfuls of meat and fruits to your lips and fidgeting with the song chord around your waist to stop their trembling. Your eyes move with more purpose, avoiding Neteyam's watchful stare that bores into you from across the fire, untouched meal still laying in his lap and the zangke [alcoholic drink] beside him practically collecting flies.
After your meal, they float you home with the rest of the clan and when your parents are sound asleep they carry you to your place by the cliff edge, a bounce in their heels like they know who is awaiting them before your mind has even caught up.
Neteyam sits quietly before noticing your arrival, back pressed against a particular tree and the darkened colour of the wood makes your throat tight. He stares out at the clearing, studying the scuffs and cracks in the cliff edge while the hand that hangs from his knee spins a tstal [small dagger] in its grip. It returns to its holder against his hip when he sees you and he's on you in seconds, large hands encasing your head and leaning in to place a pointed kiss to your forehead.
"What took you so long?" He pulls back to get a look at you and you can tell he's assessing you for something. "My brother didn't have you held back after meal time again, did he?"
You push at his wrists with both hands, pulling them from your face and turning away from him. His reflexes are impossibly quick, grasping your chin before you even have a chance to be out of eye-line and forcing you to look at him. "What is wrong, txep?"
"You're supposed to have been on look out?" Your voice is already pitchy and he can tell you want to cry, but you don't. "This whole time, you've been spending it with me instead." He reaches for you but you push his hand back. "What if something were to happen? What if they find their way to high camp? Our families are there, Neteyam." Tears prick at your eyes and you have to screw them shut to stop the inflow.
In your moment of weakness, his hands come out to cradle your face again and succeed, his entire body stepping closer until he's all you can see. "I know— it is irresponsible, and it is reckless, and it is impossibly selfish." His voice is a whisper toward the end, golden eyes staring into yours with so much sincerity it almost makes your reason for crying differ. "But that is what you do to me. This is what you turn me into, little txep. A fyeyntu [an adult male of importance recognised by the clan] with no priorities other than this."
"But I don't need you to do that. I need you to just be you— to yell at me, and to order me around, and to take everything way too seriously because that is what the people need now. Because I am afraid." Your voice shakes so much you can barely get the last part out any louder than a whisper, but you don't have to because he's already pulling you into his chest, strong arms wrapped tightly around your small figure and for the first time since this morning you feel like you can breathe. Like you're safe, that nothing can get you here so long as you remain tucked away in Neteyam's embrace, inhaling the sweet smell of sweat from his body and the ash from his skin.
He coos promises of protection into your hair until you're calmed down enough to look at him, until the promises settle into something concrete and you can't help but kiss him until they solidify. You lean in suddenly, and for a moment you can feel him second guess himself, until your fingers are in his hair and his hands are on your waist and he feels himself melt into your hold.
You caress his scalp, nails gliding over the frizz at the base of his braids and down the back of his neck. He shivers when you play with the loose strands of hair there, making you smile into his mouth as you take one of the curly hairs around your finger, twirling and giving periodically short tugs that have him breathless against your mouth. Your fingers trail lower then, palms sliding over the expanse of his shoulders and gripping the muscle, making him moan as the tension of the day dissipates beneath that medicinal touch of yours and sends him crashing further into you like he's struggling to support his own weight much longer just from your small hands massaging his frame.
It becomes a game, hands trailing wherever available and pulling what sounds and physical reaction from him you can. When your nails scratch over his abdomen, curling over the taut muscle and leaving pink streaks in their wake, he keens. One hand fisted in your hair and the other keeping a steady hold on your hip, Neteyam Suli moans into your mouth. At first, you think you might have misheard it. Another drag of your nails, and the same noise, if not more desperately this time around, flies out of him and you have to fight back a grin at how pathetic he sounds.
"Does that feel good?" You ask, voice taunting but genuinely in hope of an answer, and eywa, the one he gives is more than what you expected.
"Fuck— yes. Feels so good." He practically whimpers into your mouth and you didn't think anything could sound so sexy.
Your hands make a beeline for his waistband, fingers dipping beneath the cloth and desperate to reveal the already visible tent there, but he stops you with a hand to your wrist. "Txep." It's a quiet refusal, like if he says it quietly there's less chance of you walking away now and leaving him here, wrecked and practically on his knees for you, without so much as touching him below his tewng [loincloth.]
"Please." You pout, and a row of sharp teeth come down into his bottom lip at the sight of you. Pretty lips pouted for him like just the sight of his cock could be the best thing you've seen all your life, and fuck, how could he refuse his little txep?
His hand unlatches from your wrist and you can see him mentally curse himself for his lack of will power, but as soon as your nimble little fingers undo the knot at the side of his tewng [loincloth] he's almost smirking at the way your dumb little eyes widen.
He's big. Bigger than any short-lived glimpse you'd caught of many other warriors his age or even Lo'ak while bathing and you briefly wonder if it's just the change in circumstance. It's heavy too, weighty in your hand as you grip the base just to get a feel of it, experimental touches that still manage to elicit low grunts from him. You run your hand from the base to the tip once or twice, feeling over the veins and ridges and marvelling at how it curves slightly to the left, the weight of it pulling it down until the tip rests closer to his thigh when not constricted.
Pre-cum smears over the tip with an unintentional brush of your fingers and his entire body shudders, one hand bracing against your shoulder and his forehead coming down to rest against yours. "Jesus, fuck." Your ears perk up at the foreign usage of the word, accustomed to only hearing it leave his Father's mouth in a moment of anger or upset, but Neteyam seems far from anything close to upset right now. Sweaty head rested against yours, lips parted and eyes screwed shut with only shallow breaths leaving him, save for the barely coherent curses he lets out as you examine him.
You chew your lip, deciding to be more dangerous with your movements and choosing to grip him with more certainty this time, pumping your hand all the way from the base of him to the violet flush at his tip and watching in awe at the way more of that sticky pre-cum escapes him with a twitch. You do it once more, barely reaching half way back down before his hand is on your wrist.
You look up and meet his eye, a little breathless at the wrecked look in them and the way his lips shine with the way he's been licking them, but he doesn't allow you the kiss you think he's about to. He sinks to his knees in front of you and your entire body ignites, fire spreading until it singes away at your nerves and your hands are already bracing against his crown in anticipation despite yourself. "Neteyam, I wanted to make you feel good." You sigh, but it doesn't stop the heat in your lower belly or the shaking in your legs.
He doesn't reply.
Two hands grip the backs of your thighs, spreading you apart for him, and within in moments his face is nestled between your legs, sucking and kissing over the fabric like he couldn't wait to get it off and your head throws back into the night.
"Teyam—" You try, but he's ravenous. Feral and eating you like a man starved, too far in to hear reason or back away from your little hands making their feeble attempts of pushing at his head. He finds your clit through the fabric and latches his mouth around it, suckling so hard he just manages to get a taste of you that only spurs him on more. You cry out, leaning into him and allowing him to throw one of your legs over his shoulder, gaining further access to you and you keen when you feel his flat nose press into your core.
You pull his hair when you cum, body shivering with aftershocks and he only lets up to stare at you as you come down, that usually smug grin switched out for something more carnal, more desperate and his ears pin back against his head when you order him.
"Sit back."
He does as told, one hand splaying across the moss behind him and leveraging him into a slow crouch, eventually back on his ass and looking up at you as if his only objective is to do as you say. You straddle him carefully, knees pressed into the dirt beside his hips and he leans back on his palms to accommodate you. Cloth still prevents you from one another and yet he almost whines when your cunt seats against his bare cock, just the friction of your loincloth enough to drag the most pathetic of sounds from this mighty warrior's lips.
You grant him a rock of your hips, mostly experimental, and his hands fly out to squeeze your waist. You stare at him through your lashes for a moment, feeling him out and deciding what your next move should be, and you can tell he's already ten steps ahead of you mentally by the way his teeth remain sunken into his lower lip like a lifeline, like he's holding back something deranged and more dangerous than he had ever let slip with you before. But you want it— want to claw it out of him and make it stick, want it to be the only side of him you'll ever get to see, want to pray for wind so that his face will remain stuck like that forever.
You kiss him softly this time, two hands cupping his face and he welcomes you gladly, strong arms relaxing around your middle and drawing you in until your chest is flush against his and he's able to capture your mouth with little strain. "Will you let me make you feel good now?"
He leans back, chin tipping toward the sky so that his eyes might meet yours. "You can do whatever you want to me."
The next time you lean in, it's rushed, teeth clanking together like the first time you shared one another in this very spot. Your lips barely managed to keep up with your hands, the knot on your loincloth becoming looser with every slapdash pull of your fingers and yet it's still not fast enough. Once the cloth finally drops, pooling around your lap and thinning the barrier between the two of you, Neteyam's immediate. Arms secured tightly around your middle, nose nuzzled into the heat of your neck and hips rutting up against you, grinding you into him.
You push at his shoulder, nails digging into the skin so hard it might draw blood but he doesn't mind. He briefly thinks about asking you to dig deeper, about the scar it might leave, a physical mark of your presence on him forever and he thinks it might be the most beautiful dent in his blue skin that the great mother could ever bless him with. He almost whines when you lift off of him a little, pulling tighter around your middle until his face is pressed to the cavern of your breasts and all he can smell is you.
Your discarded loincloth is pulled from between the two of you, making him sigh into your skin and it gives you the chance to grip the base of him between your fingers. The angle is difficult and you can see very little, but eventually you manage to line him up. It stings a little at first, but the struggle soon subsides as soon as his tip breaks past your entrance. The shared gasp you let out is filthy, but you're too far gone to worry about volume as you sink down the entirety of him until you're snug in his lap, legs trembling against his hips and nails raking along his shoulders.
He expects you to adjust— to take it in for a moment and allow the throb to subside, but you're rushing. Too needy to wait and within seconds you're using his frame as leverage to pull yourself back up, sliding down once more with a cracked moan. He leans back slightly, one palm splayed against the ground like it had been previously, while his other stays around your side, large hand coming up to cradle the back of your head and keep you up right as you rock against him.
He says little, too fucked out to speak, but the grunts and moans leaving his lips are validating enough that it encourages you to add more speed. His mouth leaves gentle kisses against your skin— across your wrist, the crease of your elbow, your shoulder, your neck, your jaw— no space is left untouched by him in this position and you can barely think through it all. The hand that's cradling you slides down your back, briefly cupping your ass, before snaking around your middle. His thumb juts out and draws steady circles around your clit, slowly picking up speed until it's timed with each of your bounces against him and has you leaning back to brace yourself on his knees.
The new angle sends him deeper and you share a pitchy moan, his thumb moving even faster against you, desperate to have you coming apart a second time before him, but with the way your hips mindlessly begin to swivel as they rock he's not sure if he will. Familiar heat rushes to your core and your head tips back, the movement of your hips becoming sloppy and your eyes screwing shut above him. He watches you through it all and you think you cry when you cum, too tired to differentiate tears from sweat that rolls down your cheeks as you come apart on him. He follows soon after, holding you close as he finishes inside of you with a broken moan against your hot skin.
The two of you stay like that for eywa knows how long, tangled together in the aftermath and soaking in the silence. There's only the dull hum of the forest for a while, buzzes of harmless insects and the sounds of wind swaying the trees, until a puff of air leaves Neteyam's lips. Your head snaps down to face him, briefly worried that he's experiencing some pain or complications because of what you have just done, only to see him totally limp against you, lips parted as quiet snores leave his lips and you're sure you have never seen him so peaceful.
"I don't know, Lo'ak." Your voice is a hushed whisper, shoulder to shoulder to ensure your conversation remains only between you. "Don't you think this plan is a little.."
"Stupid. I know. But look, if Neteyam can take down one of those ships, so can we."
"We are not warriors."
"I have the same amount of training he does. Plus, you're like the strongest person I know." He elbows you, gently and you give him an unsure look. "Way stronger than Neteyam." His raises his brows like it's a suggestion and you briefly rake over Neteyam's back, far away on a separate side of camp and fussing with Tuk's appearance. She rolls her eyes, arms crossed and feigning indifference but the small smile that tugs on her lips when her eldest brother ruffles the tops of her braids is enough to give her away.
You sigh, gaze falling back on the metal the two of you are polishing in your lap. "I do not feel strong."
"Nobody who's strong feels strong, that's what makes you so brave." He smiles, like it's the simplest thing in the world to him and your chest warms with something tight and overflowing.
"You're pretty good at motivational speeches. Perhaps you should rather be Olo'eyktan than a mere warrior." You tease, bumping him with your shoulder and he grimaces.
"I would rather die."
The two of you share laughter and your head turns up to see Neteyam eyeing you from across camp, that lazy smirk playing on his lips and you quickly give Lo'ak a once over, seeing that he's too immersed in the feel of the rifle he's polishing to notice.
"I'm just going to go and grab another cloth, this one's dirty." You smile, waving it around by your face and Lo'ak only glances at you briefly, waving his hand as a signal for you to go.
"Yeah, sure."
You make your way over to where Neteyam's standing quickly, eyes constantly turning over your shoulder to make sure Lo'ak's still looking down and distracted. He laughs when you approach and you scowl, grabbing him roughly by the bicep and turning so that both your backs are to Lo'ak and to any onlookers it might look as though the two of you are simply standing beside one another. He laughs at you again, this time only more genuine and you can't help but let out a hushed giggle of your own.
"Will I be seeing you tonight?" He grins, bending down so that he's in your eye line.
You suddenly go rigid and he doesn't miss the way your tail flicks at your side. "I can't tonight." You don't say any more on the matter and his brows furrow, but the amused dip in them remains.
"Why not?" He's drawing closer with every moment and your arms pull into your body as if that might keep him away.
"I have things to do."
"Like what?"
"I have to.." Your eyes scan the floor, landing on an overflowing basket. "..weave more bowstrings. So that we are prepared in case the Mangkwan return." You nod like your affirming your own lie to yourself and he laughs again, though this time it's more of a disbelieving burst of air.
"I have already woven at least a hundred for every man and woman in the village—"
"I am just busy!" You snap, and even you are shocked by your own tone, lips sealing shut with regret as soon as the words pass them.
Neteyam's tail straightens behind him, ears pinning back against his hair and he rises to his full height. You don't look at his face, too afraid it might break you.
"You should not raise your voice, txep. People might hear us." Is all he says, before he's marching off in the direction of his tent and you're left watching the way his tail cracks through the air as he walks, fists bunched at his sides and braids swaying with force.
Crouching behind a pair of low hanging branches in the tree line only made the wet, mildew smell of the forest at this time more apparent, and despite becoming accustomed with sneaking around and telling lies over the past few weeks, something about this lie was making you sick with dread.
Lo'ak's tail brushes your thigh and for once you don't chastise him for it, too focused on keeping your hands secured tightly to the branch you're peering over as he rounds the corner of a tree trunk slightly to get a better look.
"I don't see anything." He whispers, and you would have rolled your eyes if you weren't so nervous.
"Just stay covered." You hiss, gripping him by his ear and yanking him back toward you, where his slim body would remain concealed by the thick trunk.
"They have to attack soon. My Dad said so." You don't know if he's trying to convince you or himself.
"Are you sure you heard him correctly? It was a conversation you were not supposed to listen to and—"
"I know what I heard." His tone cuts through you and you suck in a breath when he turns to face you, eyes pleading and lip curled. "So just, trust me, okay?"
You say nothing, but give him a nod and the most reassuring smile you can muster despite yourself, following suit as he turns back to face out onto the abandoned railway tracks. They had once been used for the RDA to transport goods, and the Olo'eyktan had orchestrated many raids in order to bulk out the clans supply of metals and weaponry. You had heard some say that if you dug hard enough, you would still be able to find useful ammo or broken shells, making it an easy scavenger point for the Mangkwan. Lo'ak was sure his Dad had explained to another man that this was where they would be planning to attack at some point this evening, but to be honest you weren't entirely sure it was likely, and even so, it would be impossible for the Olo'eyktan to predict the exact time of their next move on strategy alone.
You run over the side of Lo'ak's face and you can't help but feel a little sorry for him, nose twitching with desperate anticipation as his eyes frantically scan the horizon for any sign of movement. They stop at something distant, narrowing to get a better look and your brows furrow, head turning to look for yourself, but seeing nothing.
"What is it?"
"I think I saw—"
Suddenly the ground is snatched from beneath your feet and you both squeal, legs kicking and hands flying to grasp at anything reach. "What the hell do the two of you think you are doing?" A voice belonging to a familiar grip of fingers around the back of your neck seethes. There's a rifle slung low around his chest and you can feel the cool metal press into your back as your writhe, making you grunt painfully, and you're finally placed on the ground, Lo'ak at your side.
Lo'ak spins on his heel quickly, chest heaving. "What are you doing here?"
"What am I? No, what are you." Neteyam growls, jabbing a pointed finger into Lo'ak's chest and you can tell by the way he recoils with a huff that it likely hurts more than his brother intended. You step forward in defence of Lo'ak and Neteyam's gaze lands on you, "Have you lost your minds?"
"We came to help." You straighten your shoulders, trying to seem sure of yourself, but Neteyam's scowl only deepens, nostrils flaring and tail standing straight as a rod at his side.
"To help?" He spits, like it's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said and the way he undermines you shoots through your chest like an arrow. Lo'ak steps forward this time, half guarding you with his chest and Neteyam's eyes run over the gun strapped across his brother's chest before he gives you a glance over his shoulder that's a little softer than the rest. Still, his jaw remains tight as he orders you. "Go back to camp."
"What? No! We will fight!" Lo'ak argues.
"You will not. You will go home, and you will stay there—"
"—it is not fair! You are only a year older than us!"
"It is not about that, Lo'ak, and you know it—"
"—oh, so because you've completed some fancy warrior hunt you're better than us?"
Neteyam stops replying, ears pricked and eyes trained on something in the distance. You try to follow his gaze, unable to find what he's watching, until the same flash of orange that the two of you had seen before flies through the night and heads straight for the thick branches a few metres beside you. Neteyam is fast, shoving the three of you behind the tree trunk as cover and you plug your ears at the sound the explosion makes, the heat of the flames spreading through the leaves already burning your face and the tremble of the forest beneath your feet nearly knocking you off balance.
Before they have the chance to take another shot, Neteyam has hold of Lo'ak's shoulders, shoving him forward along the branch and as if on cue, his feet pick up and send him sprinting ahead of you. "Go! Go! Move!" Neteyam grabs you second, keeping you moving in front of him and every so often he gives you a push to keep going, his deep voice the only thing cutting through the ringing in your eyes as you try to focus on moving your feet.
There's a second explosion somewhere further away, somewhere you can't see, but it's enough to shake the branch beneath your feet and your right foot slides down the curve of a wet patch of moss, nearly sending you tumbling toward the forest floor until Neteyam's large arm around your middle hoists you back onto the branch, keeping hold of you until you're comfortably running on your own again.
A few more steps and there's an opening in the tree line, the sight of them clear now. Hundreds of ikran flying through the night, some of them yours, some of them poor tools of the enemy. Demons in black and red swarm a glowing patch of orange by a near by tree, far enough that the three of you are not spotted during your frantic sprinting, but close enough that Neteyam is able to line up a clean shot while moving.
The sounds of it burns your ears, metal flying through the air with a crack and you watch with wide eyes as various red and black na'vi fall to the floor, bodies limp as the paint begins to swirl a deeper shade of red at their chests. Lo'ak tries to do the same, taking hold of his own weapon that he stole from his Father, but the action slows him down and Neteyam hisses behind you— "Keep moving!"
But it's too late, another explosion comes but this time it hits right in front of Lo'ak, the tremble sending him flying toward the ground and you scream at the sight of his body rolling toward the ground. "Lo'ak!" It's guttural, ripping through you so fast it leaves your throat an open wound, and you try to dive on instinct, but you're stopped with an arm around your waist.
"Stay here." His voice is gentle despite the firm grip he has on you, pinning your back to the cover of the nearest tree trunk as you fight against him. You cry before you realise it, tears spilling and fists pushing at his chest with more force than you had ever given anything, wailing as you deny him over and over again. His hands are warm as they cup your face, rough with their shaking but gentle as he tries to be all the same. "He is my brother." It's enough to calm you, eyes finally clear enough to see the desperation on his face as he shakes you, and you nod.
With that he's gone, dismounting the branch with a jump and sliding down the hill side with agility, until he's out of sight and you're left to cry with your back to the tree, hand flying up to muffle your sobs as if that might offer you an ounce of protection.
You don't know how long it is that you stay there. How long you listen to the explosions, to the sounds of people that may or may not be yours, to the cries of animals seared by the flames, to the thud of ikran hitting the floor and the sound of flapping wings become scarce. Everything quiets down eventually, and you think that it might be safe to return to camp, until there's a new sound, closer to you and your blood runs cold. It's barely there, a small, just noticeable 'Yip!' and you know it's not yours.
There's another, closer this time and your hands curl around the branch behind you, eyes screwed shut and breath fighting to leave your lungs that you won't let passed. It takes a third call to get your feet moving, darting in along the branch and hopping over the black patch of trunk where Lo'ak fell, barrelling past vines and doc leaves as you swat your hands in front of you while you run, clearing a path for yourself.
The calls follow you, keeping their distance just to taunt you but letting you know they're still trailing you. Your legs burn and you gasp for air through the smoke, but you keep going. Adrenaline pushes you forward, keeping you from collapsing, and you make the quick decision to swerve to the left as soon as you see an opening, darting behind a crowd of bush-like branches and waiting for the sounds of wings flapping to pass overhead.
You don't let yourself breathe yet, ears straight and flicking from side to side as you listen out for any sounds of movement. You peer through the branches, allowing you to spot a pale flash of skin through another nearby. They're stalking, bald head prowling low through the branches as it turns swiftly from side to side, in search of you. You watch as the man stands to his full height at the sight of the clearing you saw, a smirk pulling at his white, cracked lips and you can't do anything but grip the handle of the hunting knife strapped to your side.
You think he's been lead astray when his head snaps in the direction of something higher up to the left of you, but suddenly his bulging yellow eyes are back on your hiding spot and it feels as though he's staring right at you. He stalks forward like he has all the time in the world, and you take the time to ready your stand, dagger in hand ready to be pulled from its sheath as soon as he got close enough. He laughs, sick and twisted, like he can hear you readying yourself for him and for a moment you falter, hand trembling around the handle and your heart beating out of your chest. As if this was what he had been waiting for, he darts forward. You surge from the bush, dagger in hand pointed toward his chest but he drops to your feet with a thud and you're left staring at the lifeless body at your feet.
Your wide eyes trail over the green and yellow feather sticking out from the man's back, recognising the colour of the stingbat wing immediately and snapping your head up to the direction the man had turned to just a few moments prior. There's a flash of deep blue and you follow it to the direction of a hole in the treeline where the Olo'eyktan stands at ground level, watching over as many omaticaya soldiers raid what's left of the Mangkwan for parts and weaponry.
You're quick on your feet, sliding down leaves and branches until you reach the floor, bark becoming soil as you race across the ground in search of them.
Before you even have time to fully exit the canopy of the forest, Neteyam is on you, two hands gripping your head as he looks you over, turning your head in his hold and checking for any injury. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" It's breathless, like he's been holding it since the moment he left you and has only just managed to get part of it back.
"I am alright, I am okay." You reassure him, and you allow him to hold you until you spot the braids of another swinging behind his shoulder, eyeing the two of you with equal parts suspicion and disgust at his brother. "Lo'ak!" You race forward, passing Neteyam and the Olo'eyktan entirely as you throw yourself around the boy, pulling him close to your chest as one of your hands comes to cradle his head in your tight hold. "Oh, great mother, Lo'ak, you are okay!"
He wheezes out a laugh, patting your back as you strangle him. "Can't breathe—" he rasps and you pull back, holding him at arms length by his shoulders so that you can get a good look at him, the same way Neteyam had done for you. As if suddenly aware of your surroundings, your face quickly contorts into something furious and his ears droop, nervous for what's to come.
You shove him, a hard palm against his chest and he stumbles back slightly, using your arms as leverage to keep him upright. "If you ever do something so stupid again, I swear to the ancestors I will rip your tail from its' base!" You hiss, but he doesn't scowl, just smiles and pulls you in for another hug.
You are unaware of it, but the look the brothers share over your shoulder is narrowed. Something about the way his brother's eyes trail your back, every muscle in his body pulled tight while his eyes rake over you with softness, rubs Lo'ak the wrong way. It's full, deeper than jealousy and yet pained with yearning that it is new for his brother in Lo'ak's eyes.
They say nothing, but the silence that looms over the two of them is anything but quiet, and Lo'ak can only furrow his brows at the way his eldest brother, the arrogant, mighty warrior he is, fails to meet his eye with that cocky grin or reprimanding glare for the first time in 18 years of knowing him.
soraphic 2k26— please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms: i do not tolerate them at all.
taglist; @signedhope @cloverover278 @saoirseneteyamsgirl @fenuw @abrielletargaryen @k1ngbliz @natashar1223 @articstxrkey @yaya6765 @skxawngsstuff
pls forgive me if i missed anyone and if u did not want to be tagged i will remove you <3
All the Ways We Almost Didn’t
⋆˚✿˖° pairing: batman! Steve Harrington x sunshine!fem! reader
⋆˚✿˖° summary: You're just a regular college girl in New York-juggling classes, late night study sessions and your own little bubble of friends and playlists- until you crossed paths with steve harrington, your bestfriend's grumpy, rude, insufferably hot and devilishly attractive brother. but what you don't know is, you two have met far long before he ever let you see who he really was.
⋆˚✿˖° word count: 18.6k (how'd i even do that lol)
⋆˚✿˖° warnings: max is steve's sister in this one (i js love them sm), angst (teeny bit), fluff and smut(MDNI!!), steve is a little grumpy at first, reader has boobs and vagina, very cliche plot, reader kinda thirsts over steve a lot lol, mutual pining, mention of byler, steve is down bad for the reader and is mentioned as a pathetic yearner (cuz i love me some men who yearn), unprotected p in v, breeding kink, breast play, praise kink, jealous steve, possessive steve, soft dom steve, cunnilingus, dustin and eddie are steve's bestfriend in the story.
⋆˚✿˖° Author's Note: credits to @angeliicide for this beautiful divider <33. It's finally out!! after lots and lots of procrastination, I finally completed this story. based off a fake scenario I made before going to sleep a few days ago. hope you guys like and enjoy it 𖹭.
You hated the rain. You absolutely despised it-especially in moments like this when you’re wanting to go home from a tiring day of university and your clothes are fully drenched in water. A gush of uneasiness and annoyance washed over you as your soaked jeans stuck to your legs. You missed your bus home, and the next one wouldn’t arrive for another hour. great, what a wonderful day. You didn’t have the patience nor the energy to wait for the next bus so you decided to book a cab for yourself. The downpour was heavy- almost angry as it fell down the streets of New York and Just when you wanted some moments of mental peace, a loud scream emerged from behind you, the type of scream to cut through the rain. You turn instinctively, heart jumping into your throat. An elderly woman stands near the entrance of a small convenience store, her thin coat soaked through, her grocery bag split open at her feet. Oranges roll across the sidewalk, one disappearing into the gutter. You watched as two guys–tall and muscular, towering over her. One of them snatches at her purse strap, tugging it roughly. She clutches it tighter, her hands trembling. The other blocks her path, leaning in with a smirk that makes your stomach twist. “Please,” she says, her voice breaking. “Please, just leave me alone.”, you heard her wail out, a plea in pure desperation. Your breath comes shallow. Your mind screams at you to stay out of it: you’re alone, it’s late, it’s raining, and you’re already exhausted. But you move your feet anyway. “Hey!” you shout, the word escaping before you can overthink it. Both men turn towards you. “What are you doing?” you demand, stepping closer despite the way your pulse pounds in your ears. “Leave her alone.”One of the men scoffs. “Mind your business”
“It is my business,” you shoot back, even though your hands are starting to shake. You step toward the woman instead, trying to put yourself between her and them. “Are you okay, ma’am?” The man holding her purse jerks it again, harder this time.Something cold floods your chest.“Give it back,” you say, your voice lower now. Firmer. Rain drips down your lashes. You can’t tell if you’re shivering from cold or fear. The second man steps toward you. “You wanna be a hero or something?”
You knew what you were getting yourself into, but something in you couldn’t just walk away.
“Just give it back” you mutter to the men in front of you. You’re too focused on the way the man in front of you squares his shoulders, too close now, invading your space. Your heart is pounding so loudly you almost miss it, A tall silhouette standing in the rain, cape heavy and dark against the storm, unmoving and silent. The older woman’s eyes widened, not at them, but at something behind them. The men froze. There was a sudden eerie silence dawning upon the rainy street– something which you couldn’t quite decipher until you turned around and saw him.
Batman. You had heard about him a lot. He was all over your for you page- on tiktok, instagram, youtube, everywhere. You thought those videos were just fake until this moment as your breath hitched in fear. Before you could think much about the moment, you were pulled out of your thoughts by loud footsteps, thumping away– growing farther and farther every second. You watched as the tall, masked man handed over the handbag to the lady. The lady patted him, going on about being grateful to him for saving her life.
A little while after, she turned towards you, pulling you in a gentle hug and whispering a soft, maternal tone a “thank you” in your ear. A smile graced your lips as you watched the lady walk away, feeling proud of yourself for helping her until a sudden honk of a car startled you. You turned around to see the cab you had booked. the cab. Shit. you had totally forgotten about your cab in this spectacle. You rush to the cab, taking a seat inside as the cab rolled off on the road.
What you failed to notice was the way his expression softened beneath the mask as he watched you, how his eyes followed the curve of your smile, how they lingered on your kindness and how he stayed there in the shadows, unmoving, until your cab disappeared into the distance.
The third semester of your university hovered over your head like a Victorian ghost that refused to be laid to rest. You were currently sprawled out on your bed, a coffee mug on the side table and various kinds of books, papers, stationeries adorning the piece of furniture where you are supposed to sleep.
“Girl it’s not even that serious it’s just the beginning of the third semester”, you hear a familiar voice speak up. You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.
With a deep sigh, you remarked, “Max, I'm not born with a silver platter like you. I really, really need to pass this semester or else my scholarship will be revoked”. Max had been the only person because of who you survived your first year at college. You had a few shared classes with her during your second semester and your friendship blossomed from there. She was bold where you were gentle, sharp-tongued where you were soft-spoken, and unapologetically blunt in ways you could never quite manage. Where you met the world with warmth and quiet optimism, Max faced it head-on with confidence and a hint of mischief. And maybe this contrast in both of y'all's personalities was the main factor for this unbreakable friendship that you had formed with her.
“You act like I don’t take my grades seriously,” she said, arching a brow.You gave her a tired look in return, resting your chin against your palm. “You don’t have to worry about losing a scholarship, Max,” you replied quietly. The teasing expression on her face softened almost instantly. “Hey, hey, look at me” she muttered softly “you’re gonna pass the exam, hell, you are going to be the top of our class: again.” she chuckled as she emphasized the again with a rolling of her eyes “you are hardworking, smart and intelligent. I know you’re gonna kill the third semester” you felt a wave of relief wash over you at her gentle words of affirmations.
“You’re going to pass,” she said firmly, like it wasn’t even a question. “You always do. You just panic before every major semester like it’s the end of the world.” You huffed softly, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. She glanced at her phone briefly, brows furrowing for a second before she let out a small sigh.
“Oh, by the way, I might leave a bit early today,” she said casually, stretching her arms. You looked up from your notes. “Why?”
“My brother’s in the city,” she replied offhandedly, like it wasn’t a big deal. “He said he’d drop by and take me out for dinner or something.”
“Your brother?” you asked, a hint of curiosity slipping into your voice. You knew about him in passing, but Max rarely spoke of him. From what little she had told you, he was her older brother who worked at a firm in Chicago and was almost always occupied with work. Max nodded absentmindedly, still looking at her phone.
“Yeah. He’s actually thinking of shifting to New York for a while,” she said casually. Your brows lifted a little in surprise. “Really?” “Mhm. Work-related stuff” she replied, shrugging lightly. “Apparently Chicago was getting ‘too predictable’ for him.”
You let out a small, amused breath. “He sounds very serious.” Max snorted softly. “That’s one way to put it. Good old Steve Harrington.", she sing-songed. The name lingered in your mind for a second. Steve. Steve Harrington.
You leaned forward slightly, curiosity now more evident in your expression. “So… what does Steve actually do?”
“Something corporate and boring” she muttered, waving her hand dismissively. “He works at a firm, handles big cases, barely sleeps, and acts like a grumpy old grandpa all the time. He’s my older brother, so obviously he acts like he has his entire life together,” she added dryly. “But he’s just overly responsible and annoyingly protective.” She paused for a moment before adding, almost as an afterthought, “If he does end up moving here, you’ll probably see him around sooner or later.”You nodded lightly, pretending to return your attention to your notes.
“Alright babe, I’ll see you tomorrow at the campus” you watch as max waves at you before closing the front door of your room. though the name had already settled quietly in your thoughts, lingering far longer than it probably should have.
The next day began like any other, filled with hurried mornings and half made breakfast. It was your final test for the semester and it had gone better than you had expected.
“Honestly, I’m just glad that I am passing this test or else my dad would’ve kicked me out of the house” max rambles, “he had warned me last semester if i failed this one, he’s gonna marry me off to that douchebag son of my dad’s business partner. But I’m passing with average grades so I’m finally relieved that I don’t have to marry that shitface”.
You could only nod, your attention hardly being on whatever she said. You were thinking about taking a part time job at the cafe across the street to where you live. Today was your interview and you were, to say, a little nervous about the same. It was around 2:30pm, and you had your interview at around 4:00pm. If you had your lunch right now, it would take you around 3:00pm to finish it and you’d have to travel for an hour or so for your interview which was pretty impossible today as there were strikes organized by cab drivers and by metro it would take more than an hour to reach there.
“Max, you know I can't lose this job” a solicitous tone filled your voice. “What do I do?”
“Uhmm” you hear her making thinking sounds and after about a minute, she goes “my brother can drop us home” she exclaimed “he’s bored and idle and maybe could be of some use to me for once” she laughs “I’ll call him” she said.
About fifteen minutes later, a Lamborghini Vision GT pulled up at the university entrance, instantly turning heads. You watched with your eyes wide, jaw hanging open as the car stopped right in front of your university entrance. “Come on, my brother’s arrived” Max says ever so casually.
“Holy fuck, this is the car that your brother drives?” the words slipped out of your mouth in sheer disbelief before you could even process them. “Yeah” she laughs “my dad bought it for him on his 22nd birthday. He’s been using it ever since” she carries on. You knew your friend was loaded, but you didn’t expect her to be this loaded.
The windows of the car rolled down with a soft mechanical glide revealing a man with soft brown hair and a naturally serious expression, while his dark eyes partially hidden behind tinted glasses scanned the surroundings with quiet attentiveness. He looked older than most people around campus, probably around his late twenties. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled up to his forearms, a dark watch resting loosely around his wrist. A charcoal coat lay folded over the passenger seat beside him, suggesting he had taken it off rather than bothering to wear it in the mild afternoon weather. He was intimidating, but intimidatingly attractive. get a fucking grip on yourself.
His gaze landed on Max. “You’re late.” Max scoffed immediately. “I said after the exam. Exams don’t end on your schedule, Steve.” “They ended twenty minutes ago,” he replied flatly, eyes narrowing just a little. “They ended fifteen minutes before” she shot back. He let out a quiet breath through his nose. “Still late.” He said as he rubbed his eyes as if he was done with max already.You stood there awkwardly beside her, not knowing what to do between their banters and moreover, you didn’t know what to do because you were fucking mesmerised by the gorgeous guy standing in front of you who happens to be your bestfriend’s brother.
Max rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh my god, relax. The world did not collapse because you had to wait.” “The parking guy almost fined me,” Steve muttered, clearly still grumpy, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. “Cry about it,” Max snapped back. He finally noticed you then. His eyes flicked toward you, sharp and assessing, not unfriendly exactly but just distant. Like he was trying to figure out why you were standing next to his sister. He stepped out of the car with a quiet shut of the door, adjusting his jacket slightly as he walked around to the front, posture straight, expression still unimpressed. Up close, he smelled faintly of a clean, woody cologne with a soft citrus note, subtle but noticeable when the breeze shifted. Max gestured lazily between the two of you. “Steve, this is my friend.” A pause. Steve looked at you properly this time, gaze steady but cool, brows slightly furrowed like introductions were an inconvenience he hadn’t planned for.
“Hi,” you offered, a little hesitant and scared.
He gave a small nod instead of a smile.
“Yeah.”
That was it? Just a “yeah”?
Max groaned instantly.
“Wow. So polite. So charming. Amazing first impression.” Steve shot her a look.
“I didn’t ask to pick up extra people.”
“I told you this morning,” Max fired back.
“You said you might have a friend.”
“And I do. Congratulations, you can process information.”
His jaw tightened slightly before he looked back at you again, voice calmer but still clipped.
“You live far?” He said, his dark eyes piercing through you. You suddenly felt too small. Hesitantly, you respond
“Uhm I actually live on the opposite side of the city” you said, afraid he might decline dropping you there. “It takes an hour by road to reach there. But I don't have to go home right now. Could you please drop me across 9th street, near the bleming’s cafe? I have my first job interview and I am gonna run late if you don’t drop me. I would be very grateful to you.” You went on. As much as you were scared of Steve, this was the only way you could reach your interview on time.
Before he could answer, Max nudged his arm. “Stop being grumpy. She just finished exams.”
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, then glanced at you once more—still reserved, still a little cold, but noticeably less dismissive than before.
“…Get in,” he said finally, causing you to squeel in excitement, which earned you a disgusting look from him.
You slid into the backseat, trying to act normal— like your heart hadn’t done the most embarrassingly dramatic little flip the moment he stepped out of the car.
Which was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. He was just Max’s brother. A slightly rude, mildly grumpy, unfairly good-looking brother who smelled expensive and looked like he belonged in a magazine instead of outside a university gate. Totally normal. You buckled your seatbelt, eyes very deliberately fixed on the window, and absolutely not on the rearview mirror where his gaze occasionally flickered back to check traffic. Except… it was right there. And purely by accident obviously, your eyes drifted up.
Just for a second.
And then immediately back down.
God.
From this angle, you could see the sharp line of his jaw, the way his fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel, and the faint crease between his brows that never fully disappeared, like he was permanently annoyed at the world. Even the way he drove was controlled, precise, effortless.
You swallowed and looked out the window harder, as if the passing trees were suddenly the most fascinating thing on earth. Max was rambling beside you about the exam, but her voice blurred into the background as your brain betrayed you completely. Because why did he look even better when he wasn’t trying? Why did that stupid cologne linger every time the air shifted? Why did he have to be tall and quiet and intimidating and so fuckable?
This was bad.
Very bad.
You pressed your lips together, nodding at something Max said that you hadn’t actually processed, while very carefully avoiding looking at him again. And then, of course, he adjusted the mirror. For half a second, your eyes met his. Your stomach dropped instantly. You looked away so fast it almost hurt, suddenly very invested in the seatbelt strap, the car door, the stitching on the seat— anything but him. Not a word left your mouth, but your thoughts were spiraling.
You leaned back slightly, exhaling quietly, pretending to be calm while your brain betrayed you again the second his hand brushed through his hair at a red light.
Yeah.
This was going to be a problem.
You stood in front of your new workplace and glanced behind at the luxurious car standing on the street. You turned around and spoke in a tone filled with gratitude, “thank you so much Steve for dropping me. I really appreciate this small gesture that you’ve done for me,” you finished softly, offering him a warm, slightly sheepish smile.
“It’s no bother” he replied back, short and direct. The smile gracing upon your lips faltered, the atmosphere getting a little too awkward for you until max broke the tension.
“Stop scaring her man. Just because your ass is annoyed to pick and drop us doesn’t mean you act like a total fuckhead” she gruffed at her brother.
“I am not scaring her!” Steve exclaimed.
You let out a soft laugh before quickly covering it with a cough, suddenly aware of how his attention shifted back to you the moment you did.
“I still appreciate it,” you said gently. “First day at a new workplace is already nerve-wracking. At least now I didn’t have to show up looking completely lost.”
“It’s alright” he goes on “all the best for your new job.” he said with a serious frown on his face, which made you question whether you said something too buttery or something way too wrong.
His eyes moved briefly, scanning your face, your posture, the way you stood fidgeting with your sleeve—before settling again, quieter this time.
You cleared your throat quickly, noticing him staring at you and gestured toward the building. “I should probably go before I’m late.”
Max gave you an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Text me the second you survive your first shift.”
“I will,” you laughed.
Steve didn’t say anything but his eyes stayed on you as you turned toward the entrance, as if unconsciously tracking your steps. He watched as you entered the cafe, not moving until the door closed and you’re finally out of sight.
if only you knew.
Your first day at work was great. You made a friend there– a coworker named Will Byers. It turned out he was in the same university as you but just in different majors. He was a business major and was a fun little guy to work with. It was around 7:00pm when your shift ended and you walked out towards your apartment. While your first day at work wasn’t entirely bad, however, it had worn you out. As you reached your apartment, you fumbled for your keys in your backpack, and opened the door to find your friend Max along with- wait what? Why is Steve Harrington here?
Sure, Max is your roommate and lives in this small flag along with you but you hadn’t expected her brother to be in you both’s haven. You noticed three suitcases lying on the couch and you knew what was about to come next.
“My brother’s gonna live with us till he finds himself some good place to live in” max barges you out of your thoughts. “
“Max, I can live in the hotel nearby”, Steve gruffed, sounding like he hates the idea of living with his sister and her young, boring and pathetic best friend.
“Oh shut up, Steve, you’ve done so much for me. This is the least I could do for you.” Max says.
Oh this is a very bad idea. At least for you. You cannot live with a guy you have been massively drooling over, especially when he is your best friend’s brother.
“I— um,” you started, trying to sound casual. Not like your brain had just short-circuited. “It’s fine. Really. The spare room’s empty anyway.” You forced your face into what you hoped was a normal, polite smile instead of the internal chaos currently happening inside your chest.
“You know you don’t have to if it makes you feel uncomfortable”, Steve says, trying to find an ounce of uneasiness in your eyes, eyes scanning your face.
Your breath hitched for a minute second because of his gaze. You couldn’t believe the effect this man had on you already without doing anything.
“No, it’s fine really. I’m totally not uncomfortable. You’re not in the way. Half the time the apartment is dead silent till like nine.” you smiled. You wonder if he should know that he should be the one to be uncomfortable considering the dirty thoughts you’re having about him.
“Great then, now that it’s settled, I am gonna doze off. This day was a long one. Steve’s gonna take up the spare room beside yours "Max said, yawning and stretching her arms, heading towards her room, peeping her head outside the room and mumbling a soft “goodnight” before slamming the door shut.
You were now standing in your living room with Steve, who was quietly dragging one of his suitcases toward the spare room like he’d rather wrestle luggage than acknowledge the slightly awkward silence settling between the two of you.
For a few seconds, the only sound in the apartment was the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the soft thud of wheels against the floor.
You shifted your weight from one foot to the other.
“…You can leave that,” you said softly, nodding toward the suitcase. “I can help.”
“I’ve got it,” he replied without looking up.
Of course he did.
You lingered anyway, fingers fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie as he pushed the suitcase into the spare room and set it down beside the bed. He glanced around once, quick and practical, like he was mentally mapping the space.
“It’s not much,” you said, hovering near the doorframe. “But it’s clean. And the window gets nice sunlight in the morning.”
He hummed in acknowledgment. “It’s fine.”
You lingered near the couch for a moment before speaking.
“…You don’t have to unpack everything tonight,” you said gently. “You just got here.”
“I prefer getting it done,” he replied, not looking at you as he adjusted the handle of the suitcase.
Of course he did.
“That room barely gets used,” you admitted, leaning lightly against the wall. “So… it’s nice that someone actually will.”
He hummed softly in acknowledgment.
A small silence settled between the two of you and then unexpectedly, he spoke.
“I meant what I said earlier.”
You blinked. “About what?”
“About the hotel,” he clarified. “I was fine staying there.”
You nodded slowly. “I know.”
“I didn’t want you to feel obligated just because Max insisted.”
That made your heart pause for a second.
You shook your head quickly. “I wasn’t obligated.”
He finally looked at you then.
“Are you sure?” he asked, voice quieter now. “It’s your apartment too.” The sincerity in that question caught you slightly off guard.
“Yes,” you said, softer this time. “I’m sure. We all agreed, remember?”
He held your gaze for a moment longer, like he was searching for any hint of discomfort.
Finding none, he exhaled quietly and leaned back against the dresser.
“…Alright.”
You fiddled slightly with the sleeve of your hoodie. “Besides, it would’ve been weird if you stayed in a hotel while your sister and her roommate live ten minutes away.”
“I didn’t want to intrude.”
“You’re not intruding,” you replied instinctively.
A pause.
Then, a little more shyly, “You’re family to Max. That automatically makes you… not a stranger here.” god you sounded like one of those high school girls who were pathetically in love with that one older senior.
“You’re very accommodating,” he said, tone even. Neutral, Almost formal.
You let out a small, awkward laugh. “That’s a polite way of saying I didn’t complain.”
He didn’t smile.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh,” you murmured, suddenly very aware of how quiet the hallway had gotten.
A small pause followed as he unzipped one of the suitcases, neatly pulling out a few folded clothes and placing them on the chair like he was already mentally settling into a routine.
You lingered by the doorway, unsure whether to leave or keep talking.
“So… uh,” you tried, voice softer now, “you’ll be working late most days?”
“Yes.”
You nodded slowly. “Makes sense. Max mentioned your office is pretty demanding.”
“It is.”
Silence again.
God, why was he so difficult to read?
You shifted your weight slightly. “If the apartment ever gets too noisy, you can just tell us. Max tends to blast music while studying and I—”
“I don’t mind noise,” he cut in, not harshly, but firmly enough to end the ramble.
Your lips pressed together mid-sentence. “Right. Okay.”
He glanced at you then, briefly, as if noticing the way you immediately quieted.
“I’m used to worse environments,” he added, a little more measured this time.
“That sounds… concerning,” you said lightly.
“It’s just work.”
Of course it was.
You nodded, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “Well. Still. If you need anything, you can just ask. You don’t have to treat this place like some temporary stop.”
His gaze lingered on you for a moment. “It is temporary,” he replied simply.
“Oh,” you said, softer now.
He folded another shirt before speaking again. “I appreciate that you and Max agreed to let me stay. I won’t interfere with your routine.”
You blinked. “You’re not interfering.”
“I prefer keeping things orderly,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard the reassurance. “I leave early. Come back late. You probably won’t notice I’m here most days.”
That, for some reason, made your chest feel a little tight.
“That’s… not necessary,” you said quietly. “You don’t have to make yourself invisible.”
He paused at that.
For a fraction of a second.
Then he straightened, zipping the suitcase halfway shut.
“It’s easier that way,” he said.
You nodded slowly, sensing the invisible wall he had very carefully placed back between the two of you.
“Alright,” you murmured.
Another brief silence passed.
Then he stepped towards the door, one hand resting on the handle, posture already shifting back into that composed, distant version of himself.
“Goodnight,” he said, voice low and polite.
You offered a small smile despite yourself. “Goodnight, Steve.”
And then the door closed with a soft click, leaving you alone in the hallway– staring at the now-shut spare room door, heart doing something very inconvenient as you exhaled slowly.
He was everything that a girl would hate in a man– reserved, quiet, guarded, careful which, unfortunately for you, only made him harder to ignore.
The next few weeks passed by quickly. You busied yourself with university work and your part time job, not having enough time to stay at home. He would leave before you even woke up- the apartment quiet, his room door already closed. And at night, when you stumbled back home half-asleep, kicking off your shoes and dragging yourself toward your room, the spare room would still be empty.
Then, at midnight, always at midnight you would hear the front door of your house opening and the soft thud of shoes before hearing the spare room clicking open. It always made you wonder, what the fuck did this man actually do? At first, you brushed it off. Work transfer, busy job, corporate life, whatever. That’s what Max had vaguely mentioned, anyway.
But still…
Midnight?
Every single day?
As you lay on your bed everyday after a long day, your thoughts would wander alongside the sounds of the door clicking open. Sometimes they made you snort into your pillow.
Was he some sort of a drugdealer? Or some mafia member? Or some local thief? You spoke out your thoughts, before putting your hands on your mouth, afraid he might hear it.
The theories got more ridiculous the more tired you were. One night he was an underground boxer. The next, a secret agent.
Because what kind of normal person came home that late, every single day, and left before sunrise?
At some point, you stopped paying attention to it. It became like a routine you had started to accept. Maybe he did work late and had much more responsibilities on his head than the others.
A few days after, Max went to visit her boyfriend Lucas, who was back in town for a week after his first year at college ended. You knew Max was going to stay with him for more than just a few hours- maybe a couple of days at least, considering the way she had been unusually excited all morning, humming to herself while packing an overnight bag that looked suspiciously heavier than necessary for a “short visit.”
She moved around the apartment with an energy that felt almost contagious, tossing clothes into her bag and checking her phone every few minutes, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“He just got back yesterday,” she said casually, zipping her bag shut before glancing at you. “And his place is closer to campus, so I might as well stay there for a bit.”
You nodded, leaning against the kitchen counter. “For a bit?”
Max shrugged, entirely unbothered. “Two days. Maybe three. Depends.”
She grabbed her jacket from the chair and slipped it on, already halfway out the door in both mind and body.
“You’ll survive without me,” she added with a teasing grin. “You’ve got food, WiFi, and my brother to keep you company.”
Your stomach did a small, traitorous flip at that.
“I do not need entertainment,” you muttered, trying to sound normal.
Max snorted. “Sure you don’t.”
The sound of her phone buzzing made her perk up instantly. She glanced at the screen and rolled her eyes fondly. “Lucas is downstairs.”
She slipped on her shoes in a hurry, swinging her bag over her shoulder before pausing near the door. For a brief second, she looked between you and the quiet hallway that led to Steve’s room, a knowing look flickering across her face.
“I’ll text you,” she said lightly. “And don’t overwork yourself, okay? Eat. Sleep. Be a functional human.”
You let out a soft laugh. “Drive safe.”
“Always do.”
With that, she opened the door, stepping out into the hallway before peeking her head back in one last time.
“Bye! Don’t miss me too much!”
The door shut with a soft click a second later, and just like that, the apartment fell into an unfamiliar kind of silence.
And you realised how fucked you are going to be because for the first time since Steve had moved in, it was just you and him in the apartment.
The next day unfolded at a slower pace than usual.
For once, there was no blaring alarm dragging you out of bed at an ungodly hour, no frantic rushing between lectures and your part-time shift, no half-eaten breakfast abandoned on the kitchen counter. It was your day off– a rare kind of quiet you didn’t get to experience often.
You had spent the morning doing small, mundane things like folding laundry that had been sitting untouched for days, reorganizing your notes, and finally allowing yourself to sit down without the guilt of unfinished tasks hovering over your head like a storm cloud.
You decided to go make yourself a cup of coffee. As you went to the kitchen, you couldn’t help but notice no coffee mug near the sink, which made your mind wander to the not so friendly guy living in your apartment.
Steve usually would have a coffee before leaving in the morning and no coffee mug on the sink indicated that he was at home. You hadn’t seen him leave that morning. You hadn’t seen him leave that morning which was… odd. Was he still asleep? Was he sick? Or had he come back so late last night that he simply didn’t have the energy to leave again? You shook your head slightly, mentally scolding yourself. Why did you even care? It wasn’t like you two talked much anyway. He was polite. Distant. Quiet. Grumpy, even.
And yet…
Your gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, toward the hallway that led to his room before a sudden, soft sound from the hallway– the faint click of a door handle snapped you out of your thoughts.
The room door slowly opened, revealing a sleepy Steve. His hair was a complete mess, falling in soft, uneven strands over his forehead like he hadn’t even bothered to fix it after waking up, adding a rather soft and dreamy look to his already absolutely gorgeous face.He wore a loose, slightly oversized t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats that hung comfortably on him. The shirt was creased in places, the collar a little stretched, like he had either slept in it or changed without really paying attention. Nothing about him looked put together this morning.
His eyes were slightly half-lidded, dark circles faint but noticeable if you looked long enough, and his expression carried that same distant tension he always seemed to have, only softer now, less guarded in the quiet of the morning.
He stepped into the hallway with unhurried movements, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck as if trying to ease out a knot of stiffness before his eyes landed on you. He stopped mid-step when he noticed you standing near the kitchen counter, taking in the oversized hoodie you were wearing, and the mug of tea cradled between your hands like you had nowhere else to be and all the time in the world to exist peacefully.
Something in his expression shifted. Barely.
“…You’re not at work?” he asked, voice rough and low, slightly hoarse like he had just woken up.
You shook your head softly. “Day off.” You could feel your knees wobble at his deep, hoarse voice.
A small nod followed, and he looked away almost immediately, like lingering too long would reveal more than he intended.
He walked past you toward the kitchen, his steps quiet but heavy, and as he reached up to grab a glass from the cabinet, his sleeve shifted just slightly.
For a brief second, you caught sight of it.
A faint bruise near his wrist. Another mark, darker, just beneath the fabric of his sleeve before he subtly tugged it down.
The silence stretched for a few seconds after he stepped into the kitchen, the soft sound of water running filling the space between you.
He grabbed a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water in silence. The sound of it pouring felt louder than it should have in the quiet apartment.
This was your chance.
It was just the two of you. No Max. No distractions.
You cleared your throat softly, trying to sound casual instead of like someone about to embarrass herself.
“So,” you began lightly, tucking your legs beneath you on the couch, “you do exist in daylight. I was starting to think you were allergic to mornings.”
He didn’t look at you immediately. Just took a slow sip of water.
“I’m not,” he said flatly. “I just don’t like them.”
You smiled faintly. “That’s very poetic of you, Steve.”
That made him glance over.
“Poetic?” One eyebrow lifted slightly. “That’s the word you’re going with?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, pretending to think about it. “Very brooding. Very mysterious. Very ‘I have secrets and refuse to elaborate.’”
He let out the smallest breath through his nose– not quite a laugh, but dangerously close.
“You watch too many movies.”
“And you avoid answering questions too much,” you countered, tilting your head slightly. “What do you even do that keeps you out till like… midnight every day?”
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Work,” he replied simply.
“Work doing what?”
He held your gaze this time– steady and unreadable.
“Stuff.”
“Stuff?” you repeated. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s enough of one.”
You huffed, dramatically offended. “Wow. I’m just trying to make conversation. You don’t have to interrogate me like I committed tax fraud.”
“You’re the one interrogating me,” he said dryly.
“And you’re being suspicious,” you shot back.
A beat of silence passed between you.
Then, unexpectedly–
“You think I’m suspicious?” he asked, folding his arms loosely across his chest.
You immediately regretted everything.
“I mean– not in a bad way,” you rushed, trying to recover. “Just like… mysterious, quiet and slightly intimidating.”
“Intimidating?” His tone shifted– amused now.
You nodded firmly. “Yes. especially when you glare.”
“I don’t glare.”
“You absolutely glare.”
“That’s just my face.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “So your face is just permanently judging people?”
He looked at you for a long second before replying, his voice monotone-
“Only specific people.”
Your stomach dropped.
“Oh?” you tried to sound unaffected. “And which category do I fall under?”
He hesitated, just barely before his gaze softened in a way so subtle you almost thought you imagined it.
“You talk too much,” he said instead.
You gasped, pressing a hand to your chest. “That was so rude.”
“Was it wrong?”
You opened your mouth to argue, then paused.
“…No,” you muttered.
He almost smiled. Almost.
“You’re very loud in the mornings,” he added.
“Sometimes. It depends on my mood.” you shrug.
“Oh. so does it mean you get all loud and excited around me” you could hear the slight cockiness in his voice.
“You wish, harrington” you replied though you couldn’t deny that your heart did a small, stupid flip at that sentence.
You leaned back against the couch, trying to regain composure. “You know, for someone who doesn’t like mornings, you’re surprisingly talkative today.”
He shrugged slightly. “You started it.”
“Wow. Blaming me already.”
He took another sip of water, watching you over the rim of the glass.
“You’re not as subtle as you think,” he said casually.
“Subtle about what?” you asked quickly.
He tilted his head just slightly, studying you.
“Nothing,” he replied, too smooth. “Just an observation.”
You stared at him, suspicious.
He set the glass down and pushed himself off the counter.
“For someone who thinks I’m intimidating,” he said, almost offhand, “you don’t really act like it.”
You blinked. “Like what?”
“Like someone who’s intimidated,” he clarified, leaning back slightly against the counter, arms loosely crossed. “Most people keep their distance.”
You huffed a quiet laugh. “Maybe I just don’t get scared that easily.”
He studied you for a moment at that in a quieter and thoughtful way.
“Don’t you?” he repeated, softer this time, like he was testing the words rather than mocking them.
The shift in tone caught you off guard. For a second, the air between you changed.
Then he straightened slightly, the grumpy composure slipping back into place.
“I’m gonna shower,” he said, voice returning to neutral.
“Oh,” you blinked. “Okay.”
He turned toward the hallway, then paused.
“And try not to accuse me of being a drug dealer again.”
Your jaw dropped. “YOU HEARD THAT?”
“I hear more than you think.”
And with that– the faintest hint of smugness ghosting his expression, he disappeared back down the hallway, leaving you alone on the couch, staring after him with your heart racing and your dignity slightly wounded.
Great.
You’re going to have a hard time living with this man.
The morning went by you reading random books that were lying on your bookshelf, watching random youtube movies and taking random internet quizzes. It was a boring day and you were also tired of bedrotting and doomscrolling all day long. So, it was then decided that today you were going to make lunch for yourself– which was actually crazy considering you might burn the whole kitchen down, keeping in mind your….amazing cooking skills.
You stood in the middle of the kitchen for a solid thirty seconds like it was some kind of battlefield, hands on your hips, staring at the ingredients you had dramatically taken out of the fridge as if they might assemble themselves out of fear.
“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, as if giving a motivational speech. “This is easy. People cook every day. Millions of people. Children cook. How hard can it be?”
The silence of the apartment did not reassure you.
You tied your hair up in the messiest excuse of a bun, rolled up your sleeves with an unnecessary level of determination, and turned on the stove like you were about to perform surgery instead of making lunch. You took out the packet of chicken patties from the fridge.
this can’t be that bad, right?
You took out two of the patties, oil the pan, and placed the patties in the sizzling oil. While the patties were cooking according to you, you busied yourself with cutting the rest of the vegetables. You read the instructions from the cooking book you followed, “to keep the patties on the pan for 10 minutes before flipping it” or so you thought.
To say that Steve wasn’t bothered by the clattering and clinking of the utensils was a lie. He had been trying to work for the past one hour and the sounds from the kitchen weren’t helping much. He knew the kitchen was probably a mess by this time but all he could do was sigh and move on with his work, not disturbing you from whatever mess you were creating until–
Until he smelled something burning from the kitchen. In the plight of worry, he rushed out of his room, towards the kitchen, scared that you might blow down the house.
He watched as you cut the bell peppers into slices while humming a song under your breath
“Are you sure that thing that you’re making is edible?” you jump at the voice coming behind you- familiar but surprising. You turned around to see Steve standing by the refrigerator, looking at the pan, wide eyed.
“Come on Steve, I may not be the best cook but I’m definitely not the worst to burn down my own food. I have been cooking since I was like- what? 15?” you squeak out.
“Oh yeah i can definitely see that” there was a hint of judgement and sarcasm in his voice.
“Trust me, you’re gonna love what I’ve made. I’m making myself a chicken burger. D’ya wanna try?” you asked him with a smile– all hopeful and sweet.
Steve felt so bad to tell you that you had burnt something. You were just too sweet for that. He watched as you went over to the pan to flip your chicken pattie, only to find the patties on the pan had turned into something that would resemble a coal piece or a leather jacket– something totally inedible.
“Oh” was all you could mutter. “…it’s supposed to be brown, right?” you mumbled, gently nudging it with the spatula, laughing awkwardly.
“…were you,” he finally said, voice calm and low, “trying to cook…”
His gaze flicked to the pan again.
“…or conduct an experiment?”
You turned to him slowly, defensive already. “They were supposed to be easy.”
He glanced at you sideways, one brow lifting faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching, trying to hold back his laughter at the scene unfolding.
“You left it on high heat, didn’t you?” he asked casually.
“…maybe.”
“And didn’t flip it.”
“I flipped it!” you argued. “Eventually.”
“Okay,” he said calmly, assessing the damage. “We can’t save this.”
“I gathered,” you muttered.
He glanced at you– not teasing now, just softer. “Did you even let the oil heat properly? Or did you just go full chaos?”
“I did not go full chaos,” you said defensively. “I..just followed the instructions from the book.”
That earned you the smallest, realest smile.
He set the spatula down. “Move.”
“woww. Bossy.”
You shuffled aside anyway.
He opened the freezer, pulled out the rest of the patties, and this time actually read the instructions on the back. You watched him from the side, arms crossed, pretending not to be hyperaware of how close he was.
“Medium heat,” he murmured. “Three to four minutes each side.”
“Boring,” you said.
“Effective.”
He put the pan back on the stove, added just enough oil– not drowning it like you had and waited. Actually waited. No dramatic flipping. No panicking.
You leaned against the counter, watching.
“You cook?” you asked.
“Sometimes.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He shrugged. “When I need to.”
That was very him. Minimal.
You tilted your head slightly. “Who taught you?”
There was a brief pause as he adjusted the flame.
“My mom,” he said after a second in a casual tone. “She works late. Used to, at least. So I learned.”
You nodded slowly. “That’s… kinda nice.”
He glanced at you. “Burning food isn’t nice.”
“I meant you learning from her.”
He didn’t respond right away. Just slid the patty into the pan once the oil was ready. The sizzle this time was controlled, steady. Not aggressive.
He stepped back slightly and leaned against the counter beside you.
You both stood there for a moment, watching the patty cook. The tension from earlier felt different now– less sharp, more… domestic. Quieter. Comfortable in an awkward way. You wonder if he could see how much heads over heels you are for him but that’s a conversation for another day.
“You always get this bored?” he asked.
“When I’m alone too long, yeah.” You hesitated, then added lightly, “I start narrating my life like it’s a documentary.”
He huffed softly. “I heard.”
Your eyes widened. “You did not.”
“‘Millions of people cook every day,’” he quoted in a flat tone, mimicking you just enough to make it obvious.
You stared at him. “You were listening.”
He shrugged. “Thin walls.”
“Or you were paying attention.”
He didn’t take the bait. Just reached forward and flipped the patty smoothly.
Golden brown.
Perfect.
You gasped dramatically. “That’s so unfair.”
“Skill,” he said simply.
You bumped his shoulder lightly. “Show off.”
He didn’t move away. That was new.
After a second, he asked, “So what were you doing all morning?”
“Reading. Watching random YouTube documentaries about things I’ll never need to know. Took a quiz that told me I’m spiritually slutty.’”
He blinked. “What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know, probably that I fall in love with fictional men and random concepts a little too easily?”
That made him laugh–actually laugh this time.
You froze for a split second because you hadn’t heard that sound from him before.
He cleared his throat a little after, like he hadn’t meant to react that openly.
“You?” you asked quickly, before he could retreat again. “What were you doing?”
He hesitated.
“Working.”
“On?”
He looked at the pan instead of you. “Just… stuff.”
You waited.
He sighed faintly. “I’m applying for something.”
“That’s vague.”
“Intentionally.”
You smiled a little. “You hate talking about yourself.”
“I don’t hate it.”
“You avoid it.”
He glanced at you, something unreadable flickering across his face.
“Maybe,” he admitted quietly.
The patty was done. He turned off the stove and slid it onto a plate. This time, it looked edible. Actually good.
He grabbed another one and handed you the spatula.
“Your turn,” he said.
You blinked. “With supervision?”
“Obviously.”
You rolled your eyes but took the spatula anyway. He stayed close-not hovering, just near enough that if you messed up, he’d catch it.
“You’re no fun.”
He leaned slightly closer to check the heat. “I’m plenty of fun.”
“Oh?” you said lightly. “Prove it.”
You watched as he looked at you and suddenly you felt too small under his intense gaze. You watched as he took 2 strides across the kitchen, standing right infront of you-closer this time. You tilted your head upwards, to try to get a look at his sleepy and gorgeous morning face, a sight you might not be blessed by in the future.
“Careful with your words, sunshine, because you might not like my idea of fun if I stop holding back.” he said in a murmur, a silence creeping in between you two as you processed his words.
After what felt like minutes, Steve broke the silence.
“Alright, have fun eating your chicken burger.” he said casually, as if he hadn't knocked out all the breath from your lungs. You watched a smirk plaster on his face before walking back to his room, leaving you in a flustered mess.
The next few days slip into something that almost feels normal.
Steve goes out in the evenings. Comes back late. Not ridiculously late, just… late enough that you start noticing the pattern. Shoes by the door. Quiet footsteps. The low hum of the shower running when you’re half-asleep.
He still talks to you. Still helps with small things. Still makes sarcastic comments when you burn toast or leave cabinet doors open. So nothing feels off exactly– just the way things are supposed to be.
Which somehow makes you think about him more.
Tonight, you’re sprawled on the couch with a blanket and your phone when the news suddenly cuts to some dramatic footage.
“—the vigilante known as Batman was spotted again late last night—”
You immediately sit up. Of course you do.
Right then, the front door clicks open.
Steve walks in like he always does— quiet, composed, jacket slightly creased like he’s been out longer than he planned. His eyes flick to the TV for a split second. Not long. Just enough to register it. Then they move to you.
“You’re still awake?” he asks, voice calm, like it’s any other night.
“You’re still out late,” you reply without looking away from the screen.
He exhales through his nose, almost amused, and sets his keys down. “It’s not that late.”
“It’s midnight.”
“Well, technically it is still 11:57pm so I wouldn’t count it as midnight.”
You ignore that. “I’ve seen him before.”
That gets his attention properly.
“Seen who?” he asks, walking into the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water.
“Batman,” you say, like it’s obvious. “A few months ago. Near the convenience store down the road.”
There’s a small pause. The kind that’s easy to miss if you’re not looking.
Then, casually, “And you’re just mentioning this now?”
You shrug, still watching the blurry footage on TV. “It didn’t feel real at the time. It was raining and everything was chaotic. Some guys were bothering this old lady and then he just showed up out of nowhere.”
Steve leans against the counter, glass in hand. “You were close?”
“Yeah. Like, really close. Two steps maybe.”
He goes quiet for a second, thinking about that in a way that feels oddly specific.
“And?” he asks.
“And what?”
“What did you think?”
You grin a little without realizing. “He was… intense. Quiet. Very dramatic entrance, by the way. Just handled everything and left.”
Steve’s mouth twitches faintly. “Sounds inconveniently efficient.”
“You’re so unimpressed,” you mumble.
“I’m realistic.”
You finally look at him. “He was kind, though. Didn’t make a scene. Didn’t scare the lady more than she already was. Just… did his thing.”
He studies you then. Not in a creepy way. More like he’s trying to read how serious you are.
“And you didn’t see his face?” he asks.
“Couldn’t. Mask. Shadows. Rain. Very cinematic situation.”
A quiet hum leaves him, like he expected that answer.
You hug the pillow closer and add, almost absentmindedly, “He was kind of hot, though.”
That makes him blink. Just once.
Not shocked. Not dramatic. Just processing.
He takes a sip of water before speaking again. “You’re calling a masked stranger hot.”
“You’ve never had a mysterious-crush moment in your life?” you shoot back.
He gives you a look. “Not usually with men who drop in from rooftops.”
You laugh. “It’s the vibe. The confidence. The whole “i protect the city and everyone loves me but doesn't know me” thing,”
He walks a little closer, resting his hand on the back of the couch, not sitting– just there. “Or,” he says calmly, “he’s just someone who knows what he’s doing and doesn’t panic under pressure.”
You narrow your eyes slightly. “You’re weirdly defensive of him.”
“I’m not defensive,” he replies, almost instantly. “I just think people romanticize things they don’t fully understand.”
You tilt your head. “You sound like you know him personally.”
That earns a small, dry smile. “I don’t. I just don’t think wearing a suit and brooding automatically makes someone impressive.”
You grin. “So you’re saying you could do better?”
He lets out a soft huff, shaking his head. “That is not what I said.”
“But you didn’t say no.”
He glances at the TV again where the news anchor is speculating about Batman’s identity, and something in his expression tightens for a second— subtle, controlled, almost gone as soon as it appears.
“They won’t figure it out,” he says quietly.
You look at him. “You sound very sure.”
He shrugs, but it’s a measured kind of shrug. “If someone wanted to stay hidden, they would.”
You squint at him. “Why do you look like you’re answering a personal question?”
“I’m not.”
“You totally are.”
He finally sits on the edge of the couch, keeping a small, natural distance between you. “You overanalyze everything,” he mutters.
“And you deflect everything,” you counter immediately.
That actually makes him smile a little.
After a beat, he adds, more casually, “So if he wasn’t… dramatic and mysterious and whatever else you’ve decided he is— would you still think he’s hot?”
You blink. “That is such a specific question.”
“Answer it.”
You think for a second, then shrug. “If he was still brave? Yeah.”
His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than usual. Softer. Quieter.
Then he looks away first, clearing his throat lightly and reaching for the remote.
“Good to know,” he says under his breath.
You don’t catch the weight behind it.
To you, he just looks like Steve again— slightly tired, a little cocky, acting normal like always.
But when the screen flashes another clip of Batman disappearing into the dark, you don’t notice how his grip on the remote tightens just slightly, or how his eyes track every detail like it isn’t just news to him.
Like it’s routine.
The cafe is quieter than usual for a weekday evening, the soft hum of the coffee machine and distant chatter filling the space as you wipe down the counter absentmindedly.
Will leans beside the register, scrolling through something on his phone before glancing at you.
“You’ve been smiling at nothing for the past five minutes,” he says casually.
You blink. “I have not.”
“You literally just sighed while staring at the sugar packets.”
Your hand freezes mid-motion.
“…Okay, maybe a little.”
Will snorts. “What’s going on with you lately?”
You hesitate.
Because saying it out loud makes it slightly embarrassing.
You lower your voice. “Can I tell you something without you being weird about it?”
“That depends. Is it illegal?”
“No.”
“Morally questionable?”
“Will.”
He grins. “Fine. Go on.”
You fiddle with the edge of a napkin. “.....I think I have a crush.”
Will straightens instantly. “On who?”
You groan softly. “You cannot laugh.”
“I am already prepared to laugh.”
You glare at him before mumbling, “Max’s brother.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then–
“The tall one?” Will asks slowly.
You nod.
“The one who drops you sometimes?”
“…Yes.”
He lets out a quiet laugh. “Oh, you’re in deep.”
“I am not in deep,” you whisper defensively, cheeks warming. “It’s just a small crush.”
“You talk about him during shifts.”
“I do not!”
“You do. ‘Steve came home late’, ‘Steve barely eats’, ‘Steve looks tired’, ‘Steve smells nice’--”
Your eyes widen. “I did NOT say that last part out loud.”
Will smirks. “You absolutely did.”
You hide your face with both hands for a second before groaning into your palms. “This is so embarrassing.”
“What’s he like?” Will asks, more curious now.
You pause, thinking.
“…Quiet,” you admit. “Kind of grumpy.”
“Hm.”
“And he’s barely home,” you continue softly. “Leaves early. Comes back super late. Sometimes he looks exhausted. Like he hasn’t slept properly in days.”
Will raises an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously dramatic.”
“I KNOW,” you whisper. “I literally thought he was some mafia guy at one point.”
Will nearly chokes on his laugh. “You live with him!”
“That makes it worse!”
He shakes his head, still amused. “So the real problem is…?”
You sigh, resting your chin on the counter. “…He barely notices me.”
That comes out quieter than you expect.
Will’s expression softens slightly.
There’s a small pause.
Then Will’s phone buzzes and he glances at it. “Oh! Speaking of distractions— some people from the uni are throwing a party tonight.”
You blink. “A party?”
“Yeah. Mike’s hosting it tonight. Some freshman’s party or something like that. Would you wanna join?”
You immediately shake your head. “Nope.”
“You need to go.”
“I need to sleep.”
“You need to stop overthinking about your mysterious crush and go outside like a normal person.”
You open your mouth to argue.
“…Also,” he adds casually, “since Lucas is in the city, Max might show up.”
That makes you pause mid-protest.
“…Fine,” you sigh dramatically. “But I’m leaving early if it’s awkward.”
Will grins. “Deal.”
Then he tilts his head slightly, studying you.
“…You’re totally dressing up, aren’t you?”
You blink innocently.
“…Maybe.”
Will points at you. “Oh, he is done for.”
Your face immediately heats up. “You are actually the worst coworker ever.”
You weren’t planning on standing in front of your mirror for this long.
It was just a party. Not a wedding. Not a red carpet. Just a stupid college party Will guilted you into attending.
And yet here you were, turning slightly to the side, adjusting the strap of your dress for the fifth time.
It fit you well. Maybe a little too well. It was a leopard print, sleeveless dress– a long one with a slit on one side. It hugged your curves perfectly. You exhale.
“Relax,” you mutter to yourself.
When you step out of your room, heels clicking softly against the floor, you’re not expecting Steve to be sitting on the couch.
But he is.
Elbow resting on his knee, scrolling through something on his phone, hair slightly messy like he’s run his hands through it too many times.
He glances up absently when he hears you.
And then he stops.
Not dramatically.
Just.. pauses.
His eyes take you in once, fully checking you out from head to toe, his eyes lingering on your legs a little too long. You suddenly feel very aware of your existence.
“You’re going somewhere?” he asks.
His voice sounds normal. Maybe a little lower than usual.
“Yeah,” you say, adjusting your bag strap. “There’s a college party. Will convinced me.”
He nods once. “Hm.”
You hover awkwardly near the door for a second. “Is it… too much?”
The question slips out before you can stop it.
He looks at you properly this time.
And whatever casual expression he had before shifts slightly. Not softer. Not harder. Just more focused.
“No,” he says after a second. “It’s not too much. You look beautiful.”
Your heart races at the compliment, millions of butterflies erupting in your stomach. Did he just call you beautiful!?
Then, almost as an afterthought, “Just, don’t let anyone bother you.”
You blink. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” he says calmly, standing up now, “college parties aren’t exactly known for good decisions.”
You roll your eyes lightly. “I can handle myself.”
“I know,” he replies.
He looks like he wants to say something else but he doesn't.
Instead, he steps past you to grab his jacket from the chair.
“You’re going out too?” you ask.
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
“Out,” he repeats vaguely.
You narrow your eyes slightly. “You’re so mysterious for no reason.”
He gives you a faint smirk. “Stop caring too much about me, sunshine. You’re gonna be late for the party.”
The way your heart fluttered at that was not at all okay.
“Fine,” you mutter, opening the door. “Don’t wait up.”
He pauses at that.
“I don’t,” he says lightly.
But you don’t miss the way his eyes linger as you step out.
The party is louder than you expected.
Music vibrates through the floor, people are laughing too hard, talking too close, moving too much. The lights are dim and warm, and everything feels slightly chaotic.
Will finds you near the entrance almost immediately.
“Okay,” he says, looking you up and down. “You did not warn me you were going to look like that.”
“Like what?” you ask defensively.
“Like you’re about to ruin someone’s sanity.”
You shove his shoulder. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious. I bet Steve was drooling over his mouth when he saw you in this dress.”
Your face heats instantly. “Why are you bringing him into this?”
“Because,” Will says simply, “if he sees you, he’s done.”
You try very hard not to smile at that.
“I doubt he cares.”
Will gives you a look that says you’re delusional, but doesn’t argue.
For the first half hour, it’s fine.
You talk. You laugh. You try to ignore how loud everything is. You sip something that tastes mostly like juice and sugar. You even forget about Steve for a few minutes.
Then Will gets dragged into some conversation across the room.
You’re left near the drinks table again.
A voice suddenly cuts through your thoughts.
“You look a little lost.”
You look up.
A guy you don’t recognize stands a little too close, hands shoved into his pockets, a faint smirk on his face.
“I’m fine,” you reply politely, offering a small smile.
“You’ve been standing alone for a while,” he continues, eyes scanning you in a way that makes your shoulders stiffen slightly.
“My friend is here,” you say, glancing around instinctively for Will.
He leans a bit closer. “Still. Kinda boring to stand alone at a party, don’t you think?”
You take a small step back. “I’m just waiting for him to come back.”
“Or,” he says, lowering his voice slightly, “you could dance.”
“I don’t really dance.”
“Everyone dances,” he insists, reaching out slightly as if to guide you.
You pull your hand back before he can touch you.
“I said I’m okay,” you say more firmly this time.
Something in your tone finally shifts the atmosphere.
His smile drops just a little.
“Relax,” he mutters. “I was just being friendly.”
You nod stiffly, heart beating a little faster now. “Right.”
A few minutes later, Will still hasn’t returned.
The music suddenly feels louder.
The room feels more crowded.
And your social battery? Completely drained.
You slip your phone out, texting him quickly: Leaving early. I’ll text you when I get home.
Then, without waiting for a reply, you quietly make your way toward the exit, exhaling the second the cool night air hits your face.
The street is calmer. Quieter. Safer.
Or at least, it feels that way for the first few minutes.
Your heels click softly against the pavement as you walk, hugging your arms slightly against the breeze. The city lights blur gently along the sidewalks as you try to find yourself a cab.
You don’t notice the footsteps behind you at first. Then they don’t stop. Then they don’t fade either. Your pace slows slightly. So do the footsteps.
Your stomach tightens.
“Hey,” a familiar voice calls from behind.
You freeze.
It’s the same guy from the party.
“I just wanted to talk,” he says, walking faster now.
Your grip on your bag tightens instinctively. “I’m going home.”
“I can walk you.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Your steps quicken.
His do too.
And then–
A shadow drops between you and him so suddenly that you nearly gasp.
Tall. Still. Silent.
The man stops immediately.
“You should leave,” a low, controlled voice says.
The guy scoffs at first, then properly looks up.
And immediately steps back.
“…Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”
He leaves quickly. Too quickly.
Your heart is still racing when you finally look up.
Black suit. Cape. Mask. Broad shoulders standing under the dim streetlight like something pulled straight out of a myth.
Your breath catches.
“…Batman?” you whisper.
He turns his head slightly toward you.
Up close, he looks bigger. More intimidating. And oddly… tired.
“You shouldn’t be walking alone this late,” he says.
His voice is deep. Measured. Familiar in a way that makes something in your chest flicker.
“I was at a college party,” you mumble, still staring at him. “I didn’t think it would get this late.”
“You should still be careful.”
You blink, then- because your brain completely abandons logic, you blurt out:
“I think you’re really cool.”
He goes completely still.
You immediately cover your face. “Oh my god. Why did I say that? Please ignore that.”
“You’re safe now,” he says after a moment, voice slightly tighter than before.
You peek at him through your fingers. “Can I ask you something?”
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t leave either.
“You saved an old lady a few months ago,” you say softly. “Near a convenience store. In the rain.”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
“I was there,” you continue, a small smile forming despite your nerves. “You were kinda intimidating. But also very hot. In a mysterious way.”
His shoulders visibly tense.
“And your voice sounds weirdly familiar,” you add, tilting your head slightly. “Like I’ve heard it somewhere before.”
He turns his head away just a fraction.
“…You haven’t.”
But the way he says it is careful as if he’s choosing every word.
Like one wrong slip might reveal something.
Under the dim light, you notice the faint scuffs on his suit. The exhaustion in the way he stands..
Strangely enough…
It reminds you of someone who comes home late. Someone who smells faintly of clean laundry and expensive cologne. Someone who always looks tired.
“You should go home,” he says quietly.
And just before he disappears into the shadows, his gaze lingers on you for a second too long.
Not like a stranger.
Not like a hero.
But like someone who already knows you.
The next morning felt strangely normal. Too normal.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains, the faint clinking of a mug echoed from the kitchen, and for a second it almost made last night feel distant. Like it had happened to someone else.
You shuffled in, still a little tired, only to find Steve already there, leaning against the counter with a mug in his hand. His hair was messy, sleeves pushed up, dark circles faint under his eyes like he hadn’t slept much.
He glanced at you briefly. “Morning.”
“Morning,” you muttered, grabbing a glass of water.
There was a short silence.
Then, casually too casually, you said, “Some guy at the party yesterday was being weird.”
Steve didn’t react immediately. But his grip on the mug tightened slightly.
“Weird how?” he asked, voice calm. Too calm.
You shrugged, trying to play it down. “Just wouldn’t take a hint. Followed me out when I left.”
“Did he touch you?” he asked.
Your head snapped up. “No! God, no.” You continued, leaning against the counter. “He followed me till the second block. Near that old pharmacy street.”
And that’s when it happened.
Steve frowned slightly. “The one with the broken streetlight?”
The words slipped out so naturally it almost didn’t register at first.
You blinked.
“…What?”
He stilled.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Then he took a sip of his coffee like nothing happened. “Nothing. Just guessing.”
You stared at him.
“I didn’t say anything about a streetlight.”
Silence.
Before he could reply, the front door suddenly burst open.
“I AM BACK!” Max’s voice echoed dramatically through the apartment.
You jumped.
Max walked in like a hurricane, dropping her bag instantly. “You two survived without me? Impressive. Any fights? Any unresolved tension?”
You choked on your water. “Max.”
She squinted at both of you. “Why do I feel like something happened while I was gone?”
“Nothing happened,” Steve said flatly.
You said at the exact same time, “Nothing happened.”
Max’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Hm,” she hummed. “I don’t trust either of you.”
You watched as she grabbed her suitcases towards her room.
Steve set the mug down slowly. “That area’s poorly lit. It’s not exactly a safe stretch at night.” he suddenly brings up the unfinished conversation from earlier.
“That’s oddly specific,” you said lightly.
He shrugged. “Common sense.”
But he still wasn’t looking directly at you.
And that, more than anything, felt off.
You watched him carefully now.
“You knew the exact block,” you continued, softer. “And the lighting.”
He exhaled quietly through his nose, clearly choosing his words now. “You said old pharmacy. There’s only one on that side of town.”
His answer was logical and quite convincing.
And yet–
Something about the way he answered felt rehearsed. Too quick. Too aware.
You let it drop. But the thought lodged itself somewhere deep in your mind.
Because later that evening, when the news flickered on and the anchor’s voice filled the room—
“last night’s incident occurred near the abandoned pharmacy lane—”
Your head turned slowly toward the TV.
Then toward Steve.
Who was suddenly very still beside you.
“That’s the same place,” you said quietly.
He didn’t respond.
Just leaned back against the couch, eyes on the screen but unfocused, jaw slightly tense like he was thinking three steps ahead instead of watching the news.
You tilted your head. “You seem to know a lot about areas Batman shows up in.”
That made him huff softly.
“Or,” he said, voice even, “maybe Batman just operates in predictable high-risk zones.”
You stared at him. That wasn’t a normal response.
And for the first time since you’d met him, a small, unsettling thought crossed your mind — not loud, not dramatic, just quiet and persistent.
Steve didn’t look surprised by the news.
He looked… familiar with it. As if it was a regular thing for him.
The apartment was unusually quiet that night. Not the peaceful kind of quiet. The kind that pressed against your ears.
Max had gone to sleep hours ago, her door shut, the faint hum of her fan the only proof she was home. You had tried to study, tried to scroll, tried to distract yourself with anything remotely productive, but your mind kept drifting. To the news. To the conversation. To him. The thoughts spiralled in your mind, a very unsettling type of anxiety filling you as you thought more and more about Steve.
What if he was the one to save you that night? What if he was the one to help the lady on that rainy day? What if Steve is….him?
You were curled up on the couch, a half-finished cup of cup noodles growing cold in your hands, when you heard the soft click of the front door. Your head lifted immediately.
It creaked, contradicting its usual full swinging. It felt like whoever was entering didn’t want to make noise.
Your brows furrowed. It could only be steve at this hour.
“Steve?” you called out, voice quiet.
No response.
Just the sound of the door shutting and growing footsteps, Uneven ones. You knew something was wrong, or maybe it was your instincts. Your stomach dropped.
You set the cup down instantly and stood up, heart beginning to pound for reasons you couldn’t quite explain yet.
And then he stepped into the dim light of the hallway. His hair was damp, slightly disheveled. His jacket hung heavier on one side, and the first thing you noticed was the dark stain spreading across the fabric near his ribs.
Blood.
“Steve–” your voice came out sharper than you intended. “What the hell happened to you?!”
He froze like he hadn’t expected you to still be awake.
“I’m fine,” he said almost too immediately, as if he wanted to brush this topic off.
He moved past you, heading toward the hallway like this was routine. Like bleeding through his jacket at midnight was a normal Tuesday occurrence.
You blinked in disbelief and followed him. “You are literally not fine. You’re bleeding.”
“It’s a scratch.”
“That is not a scratch,” you snapped, grabbing his wrist before he could disappear into his room.
He stilled.
Slowly, he looked down at your hand around his wrist, then back at your face.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Up close, you could see it better now– the faint cut near his eyebrow, the exhaustion sitting deep in his eyes, the way his breathing was slightly heavier than usual.
And something else.
Something tense.
Guarded.
“You should be asleep,” he muttered.
“And you should not be walking into the house looking like that” you shot back.
A faint, tired huff escaped him. Almost like a laugh that didn’t fully form.
“I said I’m fine.”
You ignored him completely and gently tugged his sleeve. “Sit.”
He didn’t move.
You glared. “Sit.”
A long pause.
Then, reluctantly, he lowered himself onto the couch like he didn’t have the energy to argue properly.
You disappeared into the bathroom before he could protest again, grabbing the first aid kit with slightly shaky hands. When you came back, he was leaning forward, one hand pressed lightly against his side.
The sight made your chest tighten.
You knelt in front of him without a word.
“I’m going to check,” you said quietly.
“No–”
“Steve.”
That single word stopped him.
He exhaled slowly, jaw tightening, but he didn’t stop you this time.
Carefully, you pushed his jacket aside.
And froze.
There were bruises. Fresh ones. Fading ones. Cuts that looked far too recent to be accidents.
Your hands slowed.
“…You don’t get these from office work,” you murmured.
He didn’t answer.
You opened the first aid kit, fingers working gently as you cleaned the wound near his ribs. He flinched slightly when the antiseptic touched his skin, but didn’t make a sound otherwise.
“You’re always coming home late,” you said softly.
“Always tired. Always injured.”
Your fingers paused for a moment against his side.
“And you always have an explanation that explains absolutely nothing.”
He let out a quiet breath through his nose.
“You’re overthinking,” he said, but his voice lacked its usual sharpness.
You didn’t look up.
“The broken streetlight,” you continued calmly. “The pharmacy lane. The train bridge on the news before they even said the location.”
That made him go still.
Your hands trembled slightly as you pressed the gauze against his wound.
“You react before I finish sentences about him,” you added, quieter now. “Like you already know what I’m about to say.”
You finally looked up at him.
His face was unreadable, but his eyes- His eyes looked as if he got caught.
Like he knew exactly where this was going.
Your voice dropped to almost a whisper.
“You knew where I was that night,” you said. “Near the pharmacy. You knew the lighting. The exact block.”
His jaw clenched faintly.
“And tonight,” you continued, heart pounding louder with every word, “you walk in past midnight. Injured. Again. On the same night the news says Batman got into a fight downtown.”
The room felt suffocatingly quiet now.
Your hands slowly fell away from the first aid kit. You swallowed.
And then Very softly, you ask him,
“Steve, are you..Batman?”
It was a rainy day–clouds thundering in a way that silenced the sounds of the busy street. Steve stood at the edge of the rooftop, cape heavy with water, scanning the street below out of habit more than urgency. Being a vigilante wasn’t easy– you had to stay alert all the time, despite any weather or climate difficulties, you had to observe the city for any signs of crimes, and to stay out of sight from the police for your sake.
Steve had grown up with superheroes, watching superman movies, smallville, and reading every other comic book about the same– but he hadn’t expected himself to become one. Before his mind could wander into a never-ending spiral about why he chose to become the person to guard the city in the shadows, he heard a sharp scream down the street.
His head turned instantly toward the convenience store entrance where an elderly woman stood trembling, her grocery bag split open at her feet as oranges rolled uselessly into the gutter. Two men loomed over her– one tugging at her purse, the other blocking her path with lazy cruelty. He was already moving.
And then he stopped.
Because someone else stepped forward first.
You.
Drenched. Exhausted. Clearly afraid.
And still walking toward danger anyway.
He frowned behind the mask.
Most people avoided situations like that. Looked away. Walked faster. Pretended they hadn’t seen anything.
You didn’t.
You shouted.
Your voice shook, your hands trembled, and yet you still placed yourself between them and the woman like fear and courage were existing in the same breath. Reckless. Stupid. Brave.
When one of the men stepped closer to you, invading your space, something cold settled in Steve’s chest. That was enough.
He dropped down in silence.
The shift in atmosphere was immediate. The men froze. Fear worked faster than force most nights. They ran without a fight, cowards to the core.
He retrieved the handbag, handed it back to the woman-but his attention drifted to you. You watched him, wide-eyed, in disbelief, like you were still deciding whether he was real.
And then you smiled at the old woman.
Steve felt as if all the air from his lungs had been knocked out. The way you smiled at the lady- so genuine, so sweet, as if you were just a ray of sunshine embodied.
He told himself that was the only reason his gaze lingered a second too long as you rushed into your cab.
He followed the vehicle only until it disappeared past the avenue and then he forced himself to stop.
But it did not. Steve couldn’t. Even if he tried to. He couldn’t erase the image of you smiling at the lady so softly, your dimples popping out. Every time he slept, every time he closed his eyes- all he could remember was your hair, drippy from the rain and your smile and maybe your brown eyes and how it looked at him.
It should have ended there.
But fate had other plans and so– It did not.
Steve had to move from Chicago to New York for his job– the job which actually ran his house, and kept his stomach full. He had his sister studying in NYC, so It wouldn’t be a problem for him to stay with her for a while till he finds himself a place to live in.
“Oh, and Steve, I have a roommate” Max told him as they were packing his stuff to be moved from Chicago. “Hope that’s not a problem for you”, she told him and truth to be told– he did not have a problem, because he wouldn't give two shits about a person living in the house where he would be only to sleep and to have dinner. All he wanted was a roof where he could sleep until he found a new place to move.
“Oh no no, I’m totally fine with your roommate.” he said, his tone too casual for something that was totally not going to be casual for him in the future.
So when he went to your college and saw you laughing with Max, his world stood still. You were wearing a sundress- your hair blowing in the wind and the dress matching the weather that day. he couldn’t help the blush forming on his cheeks at the sight of you.
He knew if he opened his mouth he was probably going to say something rubbish or embarrassing. So that’s why he stayed rather quiet, and serious, and intimidating- so that you wouldn’t ask too many questions about him or he wouldn’t say something that might scare you or weird you out.
Living under the same roof as you had not been part of the plan. Temporary arrangement, Max had said. Spare room. Just until he found a place.
Temporary, he told himself.
Except days turned into routines faster than he expected.
He started observing even the slightest things about you. The way you stayed up late at night browsing the internet, the way you only ate cup noodles when you got too stressed from work, the way you would blast on cigarettes after sex when your periods were near. It made him feel pathetic. He was pathetic. A pathetic, hopeless guy who had fallen in love with his sister’s best friend.
You were so easy to be around with. He felt at ease whenever he talked to you– at your snarky remarks, at your weird laugh, at your very bad attempt at flirting– he liked everything about you.
And that was when the problem began.
Because one night, after patrol, exhausted and more distracted than usual, he made a mistake. He told Dustin and Eddie, two of his bestest friends.
“There’s this girl.”
Silence fell over the garage immediately.
Dustin slowly rotated his chair toward him like a detective who had just heard a confession. Eddie sat up so fast the couch creaked under him.
“You have a crush,” Dustin said flatly.
“I do NOT have a crush,” Steve replied instantly.
Eddie gasped– loud and dramatic. “Defensive. That was defensive. Oh, he’s doomed.”
Steve dragged a hand down his face. “I said there’s a girl. That’s it.”
“You’ve fought armed criminals with less tension in your voice,” Eddie said, squinting at him.
Steve said nothing.
Which, apparently, confirmed everything.
Dustin leaned back slowly. “Timeline. When did this start?”
“It didn’t ‘start,’” Steve muttered.
“It was a rainy day. She stepped in,” Steve said before he could stop himself. “For an old woman who was getting harassed by two men. She was scared and still did it.”
Eddie blinked. “…You remember the details.”
Steve’s jaw tightened.
Dustin folded his arms. “You live with her, don’t you?”
“…Temporarily.”
Both of them groaned.
“You’re living with the girl you like?” Eddie asked, scandalized. “That is psychological torture.”
“I don’t like her.”
“Doesn’t seem like it,” Dustin said calmly.
Steve didn’t respond.
“You are near the college area more often,” Dustin continued.
Steve leaned forward.. “She called Batman hot, by the way.”
That made both Eddie and Dustin look up.
“…What?”, they said in unison.
Steve went on. “Max mentioned it. Party incident. Batman shows up. The girl thinks he’s hot.”
Eddie slapped his knee. “You’re literally competing with yourself. That is the most pathetic love triangle I’ve ever heard.”
“I am not competing,” Steve muttered. He leaned back, exhaling slowly.
Because they weren’t entirely wrong.
Because you didn’t look at him like the city looked at Batman.
You looked at him like he was just… Steve.
Eddie studied him for a moment before delivering the final blow.
“Harrington,” he said dramatically, “you are not just crushing.”
Dustin nodded solemnly.
“You,” Eddie finished, pointing straight at him, “are a full-blown, emotionally repressed, pathetic and a hopeless yearner.”
Steve stared at them in silence.
Then muttered, tired and resigned,
“…This is why I don’t tell you things.”
But later that night, back in the apartment, when he heard you laughing softly at some stupid internet quiz in the living room about “which Henry the VIII’s wife are you? " he realised something far more inconvenient than their teasing.
They weren’t wrong.
And the worst part?
You still had no idea that the man you were slowly getting comfortable with over burnt lunches and quiet conversations…
was the same one who had been watching you from the rooftops since the night you stood in the rain, shaking and scared, and still chose to be brave anyway.
The words just hung there between them.
For a second, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t even blink. The only sound in the room was the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the quiet ticking of the clock near the kitchen.
Steve’s hand tightened slightly around the edge of the table.
“You shouldn’t joke about stuff like that,” he said finally, but his voice came out rougher than usual. Not annoyed. Not amused. Just… tired.
You didn’t laugh.
“I’m not joking.”
He let out a slow breath through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, wincing slightly when his fingers brushed too close to the bandage near his temple. You noticed that. Of course you did.
“You came home at 3 a.m.,” you continued, softer now but steady. “Injured. Again. You dodge questions every time. You disappear randomly. And that night… at the party…” Her voice faltered for a moment. “He knew my name. Before I told him.”
Steve’s jaw clenched.
“And the voice,” she added quietly. “You tried to make it deeper. But when you got hurt just now and spoke normally…” She swallowed. “It was the same.”
There was a silence between you two.
He leaned back slightly, staring at the floor like it might suddenly have answers written on it.
“You’ve been spying on me?” he asked?
She hesitated. “It was very obvious that I did not even have to try to make an attempt at spying.”
He looked at her every so softly, lashes batting with his breaths heavy and uneven. He laughed under his breath.
“I tried,” he said quietly. “God, I tried to keep you out of it.”
Her chest tightened.
“Out of what?” she whispered.
He looked at you for a long moment, like he was weighing a hundred different decisions all at once. Then he shook his head slightly, almost to himself.
“You have no idea how hard it was,” he said, voice low, “to keep this secret hidden from you.”
“You are an idiot,” you said automatically, and the normalcy of it slipped out before you could stop yourself.
“You were scared that night,” he said suddenly.
She blinked. “What?”
“At the party.” His gaze softened, and it made her heart stutter in a way she hated. “You tried to act fine. But your hands were shaking when you grabbed your phone.”
Her throat went dry.
“You…” you stopped. “You noticed that?”
“I notice everything about you,” he said without thinking.
The second the words left his mouth, the room went still again.
“Steve…” you started.
He stood up abruptly, pacing once, dragging a hand down his face, trying to physically pull himself together.
“I was supposed to tell you,” he muttered. “Not like this. Not when you’re looking at me like I’m some criminal.”
“I’m not,” you said quickly. “I’m not looking at you as some sort of a criminal. I’m looking at you as a guy who saved me twice, a guy who was always there when I was in trouble.”
He looked up at you, tending his stomach wound, biting your lips as you made an attempt to concentrate on wounding up his injury. God you looked so ethereal it made steve stop breathing.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m Batman.”
Your eyes flickered to the bandages, the bruises, the way he was standing slightly angled like he was used to protecting his injured side.
“You could’ve died,” she whispered.
“I’ve almost died a lot of times,” he replied.
“That’s not comforting!”
“I wasn’t trying to comfort you!”
Their voices rose for the first time, tension finally cracking through the restraint that had been holding everything together.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” you demanded.
“Because I didn’t want you dragged into my mess!” he shot back, then immediately lowered his voice when he saw her flinch.
“Because the second people know, they become targets. And I wasn’t about to let that happen to you.”
The way he said it made your chest ache. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” she said, quieter now. “I do if it keeps you safe.” “That night,” she said slowly, “you followed me.” He didn’t deny it. “You were there the whole time.” “I always am,” he admitted. Her breath caught. “And you just watch?” she asked softly. His expression shifted into something raw. “I make sure nothing happens to you.” The weight of that settled over her in a way that was almost overwhelming. “You’re insane,” she murmured. “All these times I thought it was mere paranoia but it wasn’t. It was you. God, steve” He let out a quiet huff. “Yeah. Probably.” he said, a look of guilt gliding over his face. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”
You stepped closer before he even realized you were moving. “You lied to me,” she said. “I protected you.” “You shut me out.” “I kept you safe.” It was then when you realised how close you both were standing. The proximity made your brain mushy. He was too close, close enough to see the tiny cut near his lip. Close enough to feel the tension radiating off him like heat. His hand hovered near your face before gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear “You shouldn’t be this close to me,” he murmured. “Then why aren’t you stepping back?” she asked.
Before you could process the words leaving your mouth, you felt yourself backed up to the wall, and a pair of soft, plump lips falling onto yours, kissing you over so tenderly. It was hesitant at first, almost like he was testing if you’d push him away. And when you didn’t move away, the kiss deepened just slightly, filled with weeks of unspoken tension, worry, and something he’d been trying very hard to ignore. Steve tightened his grips on your waist while your hands landed on his shoulders. You tasted exactly how he imagined you to taste like strawberries and vanilla. His breathing was uneven as he stepped back, running a hand through his hair again, avoiding her eyes now. He suddenly realised his actions, eyes widening and hands retrieving from your waist. “That” he started, then stopped. “That shouldn’t have happened. I’m so sorry” he suddenly said, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite understand. Without another word, he turned and walked toward his room, shoulders tense, every step heavy like he was forcing himself to put distance between you and him before he did something even more reckless. “Thank you for tending my injuries and have a good night” he said, his eyes looking at you for one last time before closing the door behind him. You watched as Steve closed the door, half dazed and half in awe. After what felt like hours, you touched your lips, recalling the memory of the way he kissed you and it made you kick your feet and a squealing and blushing mess- butterflies erupting in your stomach.
It was safe to say you slept soundly that night.
Steve starts avoiding you so subtly at first that you almost convince yourself you’re imagining it. The way he suddenly has “errands” whenever you’re in the kitchen. The way he answers in short sentences instead of his usual teasing, drawn-out replies. The way he doesn’t look at you for longer than a second anymore, like looking at you is a bridge he’s no longer allowed to cross. And it hurts more than you expected it to. The kiss replays in your head on loop– the way he pulled you in, the way his hand tightened just slightly at your waist, the way he kissed you like he’d been holding himself back for months. Before he walked away. Three days passed like that. Three days of quiet mornings, distant conversations, and the sound of his bedroom door clicking shut a little faster whenever you enter a room.
By the fourth day, you’re sulking so obviously that Max doesn’t even bother pretending not to notice. “You look like you’re questioning your existence right now” she says flatly, plopping down beside you on the couch. You groan into the cushion. “He’s avoiding me.” Max doesn’t even need to ask who, because she already knew the answer. “Steve?” You lift your head slowly. “…Is it that obvious?” She snorts. “He practically sprints out of rooms when you walk in. It’s embarrassing.” Your chest tightens. “He kissed me.” Max freezes mid-scroll. “…He WHAT?”
“AND THEN,” you sit up dramatically, voice rising, “he confessed he’s Batman, kissed me, and now he’s acting like I’m some kind of emotional hazard.” Max stares at you for a solid five seconds before bursting into laughter. “Oh my god,” she wheezes, “you fell for a vigilante AND a coward. That is insane.”
“I am not laughing,” you say, even though your lips twitch. Before she can reply, Will walks in, holding two mugs “I heard raised voices,” he says carefully. “Should I be concerned or entertained?” Max points at you. “Steve kissed her and is now acting like a divorced man who lost custody of his feelings.”
Will chokes on his drink. “He finally kissed you?” You glare. “Why does everyone say ‘finally’ like it was inevitable.” Will and Max exchange a look. “Because,” Max says slowly, “that man has been down horrendous for you since day one.” Will nod. “Like… painfully obvious.” Your eyes widen. “WHAT?” Your face burns. Max leans forward, suddenly serious. “Okay, focus. He kissed you and now he is avoiding you like plague. He is emotionally repressed and in all my 22 years of existence, I have never seen him act like this.”You hug a pillow tighter. “So what do I do? Ignore him back? Pretend I don’t care? Cry dramatically in the hallway?”
Max’s eyes sparkle with something dangerous. “…No.” Will sigh immediately. “Oh no. That tone is never good.” Max grins. “We make him jealous.” You blink. “Excuse me?” “He’s clearly spiraling,” she says, counting on her fingers. “He likes you. He kissed you. He’s scared. So now he’s avoiding you to regain control.” Will adds gently, “Which means he still cares. A lot.” “And,” Max finishes smugly, “the fastest way to snap a man out of emotional avoidance is strategic jealousy.” “That sounds toxic,” you mutter weakly.
“That is very effective, trust me.” Max corrects. Will hesitates. “…Ethically questionable, but emotionally persuasive.” You stare at both of them. “I don’t even have anyone to make him jealous with.” Max’s grin widens slowly. “Oh,” she says. “You absolutely do.” Your stomach drops. “…Will.” Will nearly spits out his drink. “ME?” Will looks between you and Max in horror. “I did not sign up to be used as a prop in a romantic psychological experiment.” “You’re not a prop,” Max says sweetly. “You’re emotional support bait.” You bury your face in your hands. “This is insane.” But despite yourself… a tiny, petty part of your heart perks up.
Because maybe– just maybe.
if Steve really does care, he won’t stay indifferent for long.
The apartment feels too small that evening, like the walls are pressing in with all the tension you’ve been swallowing for days. Max and Will don’t waste time. Max “casually” texts Will to come over for pizza and a movie, and he shows up twenty minutes later in a soft gray sweater that makes his eyes look even warmer, carrying that easy, gentle smile he always has. You’re on the couch in the tiny shorts and oversized hoodie you know Steve likes when Will sits down right beside you instead of in the armchair. Max shoots you a look that says go big or go home before disappearing into her room with some lame excuse about assignments. At first it’s innocent. Will laughs at something you say, leans in a little. You let your hand rest on his forearm when you reach for the remote, fingers lingering just a second too long. His skin is warm under your palm. “You always smell so nice” he murmurs, voice low and playful, eyes flicking over your face. “It’s unfair, honestly.” You laugh, soft and bright, and squeeze his arm gently. “Flatterer. Keep going, I’m listening.” He grins, tilting his head. “Harrington’s an idiot for not noticing those pretty little dimples on your cheeks whenever you smile” Your cheeks heat, but you keep the touch, thumb brushing his wrist. It’s light. It’s nothing. But it’s working, your pulse is racing for an entirely different reason now as you hear the front door open.
Steve walks in still in his dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie loosened, hair a little messy from the wind. He freezes in the doorway when he sees you. Sees Will. Sees your hand on Will’s arm and the way Will is leaning in, complimenting you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
Something dark flashes across Steve’s face,his jaws tightening and his shoulders going rigid. His eyes lock on your fingers against Will’s sleeve for a beat too long before they snap to your face. You feel it like a spark against your skin. He doesn’t say anything. Just kicks the door shut harder than necessary and stalks straight past the living room toward the hallway.
Max pokes her head out of her room, eyes sparkling with evil delight. “Phase one: complete.” You barely have time to process before Steve’s voice cuts through the apartment, low and controlled. “Kitchen. Now.”Your stomach flips. You stand, legs shaky, and follow him. The second the kitchen door swings shut behind you, he crowds you against the counter. Not touching yet, but close enough that you can smell his cologne and the faint leather from his jacket.
“What the fuck was that?” he asks, voice rough. “You letting Byers put his hands all over you? Laughing at his little compliments like I haven’t been losing my goddamn mind for four days straight?” You lift your chin, heart hammering. “You’ve been avoiding me, Steve. What was I supposed to do, sit around waiting while you pretend that kiss never happened?” you say, voice raising a little yet coated with a sense of hurt and ignorance.
His hands land on either side of you, caging you in. “I kissed you because I couldn’t fucking breathe without you. I’m Batman, I’m supposed to keep people safe, not drag the brightest, sweetest girl I’ve ever met into my shit. But seeing you touch him-” His voice cracks. “I wanted to rip his arm off.” The way he said it caused a deep, warm ache in your lower belly. You watched as your thighs clenched unknowingly at his words, legs already wobbly. You summoned up all the courage and ounce of sanity you had to murmur three words that would break this band of tension. “Then stop running,” you whisper.
With that said, his mouth crashes into yours, desperate and filthy, tongue sliding against yours like he’s starving. You moan into it, hands fisting his shirt, and he groans, lifting you onto the counter in one smooth motion. “Bedroom,” he rasps against your lips. “Now. Before I fuck you right here where anyone could walk in.” Before he could say more, you shut his mouth by kissing him harder, deepening the kiss and sliding your tongue into his mouth. Steve groaned into your mouth, tongue fighting for dominance as the room fills in with lewd noises. He carries you out of the kitchen, smirking down at will who was sitting on the couch, his eyes filled widening as he took in the sight of you and Steve.
He carries you down the hall like you weigh nothing, kicks his door shut, and drops you onto his bed. The second your back hits the mattress he’s on you, mouth on your neck, hands shoving your hoodie up and off. “Jesus, baby,” he breathes, eyes dark as they rake over your bare chest. “Look at you. So fucking pretty for me.” He doesn’t waste time. His mouth closes around one nipple, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch and whimper. His fingers pinch the other, rolling it slowly, perfectly, until you’re gasping his name.
“Stevie-please” The nickname hits him like a live wire. He pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, eyes blown black. “Fuck. Say that again.” “Stevie,” you whine, needy and trembling. “Baby, please, I need you.”
He loses it. A low, wrecked sound rips out of his chest and he’s kissing down your stomach, yanking your shorts and panties off in one rough tug. His hands spread your thighs wide. “Such a good girl,” he praises, voice gravel-rough. “Already so wet for me. This pretty little pussy missed me, didn’t it?” He licks a slow, filthy stripe up your center and you cry out, hips bucking. He pins them down with one forearm.
“Shh, sweet girl. Let me taste you.” He sucks your clit into his mouth, two thick fingers sliding inside you without warning, curling perfectly. “Fuck, you’re tight. Taking my fingers so well already. Gonna make you come on my tongue first, yeah?” You’re a mess, whining, moaning, fingers twisting in his hair as he eats you like a starved man. Every lick, every curl of his fingers draws out more praise. “Yeah? Feel good, baby? Hmm? You’re dripping down my chin,such a needy little thing for me.”
“Stevie oh god I’m”
“Come on my tongue, pretty girl. Let me hear you.” You shatter, thighs shaking around his head, as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach snapping, his name breaking on a sob. He doesn’t stop until you’re trembling through the aftershocks. Then he’s crawling up your body, shedding clothes, cock hard and heavy against your thigh.
“Need to be inside you,” he growls, lining up. “No condom, want to feel all of you. Gonna fill you up, sweet girl. Breed this perfect pussy until you’re dripping with me. You want that?” “Yes, yes, baby, please” He thrusts deep in one smooth stroke, stretching you open. The groan he lets out is broken. “Fuck-tightest, warmest little heaven. Taking me so good. My good girl.”
He sets a punishing rhythm, one hand pinning both of yours above your head, the other gripping your hip. You’re moaning helplessly beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist. “Look at you,” he pants, forehead pressed to yours. “So fucking beautiful taking my cock. You love me that much, huh? Letting me ruin you like this?” “I love you,” you whimper, tears pricking your eyes from how good it feels. “Stevie, I love you”
His thrusts turn deeper, slower, grinding against your clit with every stroke, a small grin plastering on his face. “Yeah, sweet girl? ‘s true that you love me?” “I love you- love you so much” you mewl out, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him closer and deeper into your cunt.
“God, baby… I love you too. So fucking much it hurts.” He kisses you messy and sweet, still fucking you senseless. “Gonna come inside you-fill you up until it takes. You’re mine. Only mine. Isn’t that right? Mine to breed, mine to fuck and mine to love. ” You come again with a broken cry, clenching around him so hard he follows right after, groaning your name as he spills deep, hips stuttering through every pulse.
He doesn’t pull out right away. Just collapses half on top of you, still pinning your wrists, breathing hard against your neck. “Never avoiding you again,” he whispers, pressing soft kisses to your jaw. “You’re stuck with me now, sweet girl. ‘m not running away from you.” You smile, dazed and blissed-out, and tug at his grip until he releases your hands so you can wrap your arms around him. “Good,” you murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Because I’m not letting you go either… Stevie.” You felt his cock hardening and twitching instantly, a smug look forming on his face, as you watched him hover over you again.
“Are we really going that way, baby?”
“Come on i know you-” Before you could finish your sentence, you felt Steve pressing his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss, his dick sliding into your still wet cunt.
The May sun feels almost too bright as you step off the graduation stage, gown billowing around your legs, cap tassel smacking your cheek because you flipped it way too hard. The lawn is packed, but your eyes cut straight through the crowd to Steve. He's standing near the back in a brown formal suit, arms crossed like he’s trying to look casual. Max is right beside him, jumping and screaming your name so loud her voice cracks; Will’s clapping steadily with his boyfriend Mike's arm looped around his waist; Eddie’s got both hands cupped around his mouth yelling “Hell yeah, that’s our valedictorian!” while Dustin bounces next to him like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. You jog down the steps and straight into Steve’s arms, a smile grazing your lips and small giggles fall out of them.
He catches you, lifts you just enough that your feet dangle for a second, face buried in your hair. “Hey, graduate,” he says, voice soft and rough at the same time. “You fucking did it.” You laugh against his shoulder, arms locked around his neck. “You’re gonna make me cry in front of half the campus, Harrington.”
“Let ‘em see,” he murmurs, setting you down but not letting go. His hands slide to your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “I’m so proud of you, Hiya. All those all-nighters, all the times you thought of throwing your laptop out of the house, all those mental breakdowns were worth it. you crushed it.”
Before you can answer, Max crashes into you both, nearly toppling the three of you. “You’re officially too smart for us now! Don’t forget the little people when you’re famous!” Max and Will, a year junior to you, had just entered their final year in college. Will hugs you next, gentle and quick. “You looked so happy up there.” Eddie slings an arm around Dustin’s shoulders, grinning wide. “We’re throwing the biggest pizza-and-movie night this weekend to celebrate. No arguments.”
Steve’s hand finds yours again, fingers threading through yours like it’s muscle memory now. You glance around at them, your loud, chaotic, chosen family and it hits you how easy this feels. No more awkward “whose friends are these” moments. They just… show up. For you. For him. For whatever dumb thing you’re all doing next. Steve leans in, lips brushing your temple. “Got something to show you. You free for the rest of the day?”
The ride is quiet, just the two of you in his car, your fingers laced with his. He leads you up to a tree-lined street in Brooklyn, past brownstones and bodegas, until you stop in front of a narrow four-story walk-up. The buzzer has a fresh label: STEVE HARRINGTON 4B. You blink up at the building. “You… moved?” “Signed the lease last month,” he says, pulling keys from his pocket. “Wanted to surprise you after today.” You follow him up the narrow stairs, four flights, your thighs already burning by the time you reach the top and he unlocks the door.
The apartment is small but bright: big windows letting in late-afternoon sun, hardwood floors that creak under your sneakers, an open kitchen with just enough counter space for two people to bump hips while cooking. There’s a couch that looks suspiciously like the one from his old place, a couple of boxes still taped shut in the corner, and a single framed photo on the windowsill, you and him from last fall, laughing in Central Park, leaves in your hair. You walk slowly through the space, trailing your fingers along the wall. “It’s nice. Really nice.” Steve watches you from the doorway, hands in his pockets. “Yeah?”
You nod, but your voice comes out quieter. “You’re really moving here. Out of the old place.” He steps closer, turning you gently to face him. “I’m not moving alone.” Your breath catches. “What?” “I didn’t sign this lease thinking I’d live here by myself, Hiya.” His hands settle warm on your waist, thumbs brushing the fabric of your dress under the unzipped gown. “I want you here. Mornings where you steal all the blankets. Nights where we fight over who gets the remote. Your books on the shelves, your coffee mugs in the cabinet, your laugh bouncing off these walls. I want this to be ours.”
Tears sting your eyes as a feeling of happiness creeps over you. “Steve…”
He kisses you then, slow, careful, like he’s giving you time to say no. But you don’t. You kiss him back, hands sliding up his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. When you pull apart, foreheads touching, he whispers, “Move in with me. Please.”
You laugh through the tears, nodding fast. “Yes.” His grin breaks wide and boyish. He kisses you again, deeper this time, joyful,then scoops you up just enough to spin you once in the empty living room, both of you laughing like idiots. When he sets you down, he keeps his arms around you, swaying a little like you’re slow-dancing to music only the two of you can hear.
First official tour,” he says against your hair. “Kitchen’s got that weird corner cabinet you can fill with all your spices. Bedroom’s got a window that looks over the street, good for people-watching when we’re too lazy to go out. And the couch…” He winks. “Already broken in from when I moved the boxes.” You bury your face in his neck, smiling so hard it hurts. “You’re ridiculous.” “Stil you love me” he says simply, pressing a kiss to your temple.
“I love you” you say, looking at your boyfriend with nothing but love in your eyes.
And in that hush, with the city humming far below and forever stretching out ahead like an open road, you realize you could never forget him-not the grumpy guy who used to roll his eyes at your playlists, not the best friend’s older brother who once made you want to scream and hide in the same breath. Somewhere along the way, without you even noticing, that same man became the one you fell in love with completely and irrevocably. The one who fights shadows by night and fights for lazy Sunday mornings with you by day. The one you want to wake up to every morning, fight over movie characters settings with, argue over games with, grow old and ridiculous alongside.
The one you want to spend the rest of your life with. “Welcome home, graduate.”
And for once, forever doesn’t feel like a promise too big to keep-it feels like home.
i hope you guys loved reading this story and if you did, please like and reblog it. thank you so much for reading it <3.
everything she wants
mike decided he wants eyeliner with his costume, but he’s never put it on before. you offer some help, but it puts the boy (and you) in shambles for the rest of the night.
or,
mike wheeler is head over heels for his best friend. and so are you.
mike wheeler x fem!reader
word count: 13.2k (i'm sorry but trust it's worth it!)
a/n: yayyyy she's here!! hope you like!!!
read part two here!
tags: a lil suggestive at the end; read at your own discretion!, best friends to lovers, holy crap they are in love, oblivious mutual pining, they overthink everything, au cause yes, puppy dog eyes mike, guyliner (duh), mike is SMITTEN (so is reader), some pov switching but mainly mike-centric, yearning, underage drinking, mentions of gagging, songfic if you squint, mike is taller than reader, halloween party, fake blood, confessions of love, kissing, making out, cursing, Tension
The curse that escaped Mike Wheeler’s mouth hadn’t been one of pain–though it would surely appear that way if you had no context for the situation and took a glance in his direction.
He had been in the bathroom for about five minutes now, busying himself with a container of a red liquid he had bought with you at the discount store just hours ago. Fake blood. Unfortunately for Mike, the price of the liquid was showing, and before he knew it, he and the basement bathroom looked like they had encountered an actual vampire attack.
The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ S.H.
⭐︎ Warnings: 18+ mdni! post apocalypse, character death, angst, mean!steve, grumpy!steve x sunshine!reader, blood, wounds -- all the gory stuff, smut in the future chapters, hurt/comfort
⭐︎ Pairing: Grumpy!Steve Harrington x sunshine(fem)!reader
⭐︎ Summary: Everything he once knew, is gone, dead and buried, burned to the ground and turned into ash. All he has known is loss, death and pain, he despised this world, until it brought you to him -- the sunshine he had long forgotten. Light he will follow till the very end.
⭐︎ In collaboration with @hellfire--cult
⭐︎
Prologue ☀︎ When the sun hits, she'll be waiting
Chapter one ☀︎ Welcome and Goodbye
Chapter two ☀︎ Can you see right through me?
Chapter three ☀︎ You’re the greatest thing we’ve lost
Chapter four ☀︎ While I'm alone and blue as can be
Chapter five ☀︎ Watching cityscapes turn to dust
Chapter six ☀︎ The killing time. Unwillingly mine.
Chapter seven ☀︎ Fall back into place. Fall back...
Chapter eight ☀︎ Dead-eyed. Dead weight.
Chapter nine ☀︎ Pull the trigger on the gun I gave you when we met
Chapter ten ☀︎ Turn me into something tragic, just for you, I let it happen
Chapter eleven ☀︎ And I'll fear no evil because I'm blind to it all
Chapter twelve ☀︎ You’re a bandit like me. Eyes full of stars
Chapter thirteen ☀︎ Then this heart would break and fall as twice as far
Chapter fourteen ☀︎ The devil in your eyes, won't deny the lies you've sold
Chapter fifteen ☀︎ Every print I left upon the track has led me here
Chapter sixteen ☀︎ One day I am gonna grow wings...
Chapter seventeen ☀︎ Now I'm racing for what to do, all roads lead me right back to you
Chapter eighteen ☀︎ I'll give you all that I can, as long as you'll wait for me there
Chapter nineteen ☀︎ When you’re lying between my legs, it doesn’t matter
Chapter twenty ☀︎ If you can't survive, just try
Chapter twenty one ☀︎ Look into my eyes and baby, whisper
Chapter twenty two ☀︎ If anyone could’ve saved me, it would’ve been you
New Read!!
All my fandoms cohabitating! 
I’m absolutely devastated!

for 24 hours, you’re still mine
★ summary: flying during the holidays is horrible enough; even worse is when your flight gets delayed by 24 hours. the only thing that makes it worth it is the brown eyed boy who's determined to make the next 24 hours the best date of your life.
★ pairing: modern!steve harrington x reader
★ warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, love at first sight, brief mention of heart attack & cpr, cursing, airport bathroom sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, big dick & dirty mouth steve harrington you guys know the drill
★ word count: 10k
★ notes: watched before sunrise, cried, then opened a google doc :) this is also me soft launching emt!steve
“We regret to inform you that flight UAL-8777 to Chicago has been delayed until tomorrow at 6 o’clock central time. Please head to the Airline Counter if you have any more questions. We sincerely apologize.” The intercom buzzed, followed by the loudest in unison groan you might have ever heard in your life. Flying around the Holidays were stressful enough as it was, but now your flight had been pushed back nearly 24 hours.
God forbid you take the cheaper flight with a layover; now, here you were trapped in a random Midwest airport for hours.
“Jesus fucking christ.” You grumbled, kicking your suitcase more aggressively than you needed to. Taking your anger out on the poor, hard plastic. “Save a hundred dollars, Y/n, it’ll be fine. No, I’m so excited to spend Christmas Eve in the airport, this is exactly what I wanted.”
the first rule - s.h
summary:: It’s your final summer at the camp you’ve been going to since the beginning of middle school. You’re excited for everything that’s to come: the lake, the fire-pit. Until you get there. Not only is it empty, but there’s no way to leave.
word count :: 5.1k
pairings :: king!steve x reader
content warnings :: future smutttt… but for now underage drinking, weed, language, near-death (drowning), vomit
writers note :: ahh new series already? hello the society x stranger things au. I’m OBSESSED with this concept. i’m gonna try get love like it’s ending out but without netflix it’s hard guys im sorry— like i just can’t afford it rn but i want the next chapter to be perfect and accurate!! as always thanks for reading!! <333
i do not allow my content to be stolen, copied or reposted anywhere else. do not put my work through any ai tools or generators
(stop using ai for gods sake.)
↟ 𓆱 ⛰︎ ོ 🂭 ᯓ 𐂂
The golden glow, the pollen clinging in the air and the light smell of pine trees was always your favourite.
Five years of crowded buses and loud campers. The cramped, pushed-together seats that felt even smaller with the bag stuffed full of too much stuff wedged between your thighs.
Since middle school the tradition began. Letters of permission, checklists signed, and then being herded like cattle into the big yellow vehicle that rattled its way to the same destination each time— Camp Haven.
COME HOME (S.H.)
a stranger things rewrite
"come home to me, okay?" "always," steve promises. in between saving will, then hawkins, then somehow the world, you fall in love with steve harrington.
PAIRINGS: steve harrington x henderson!reader, slight jonathan byers x reader
CONTAINS: fem!reader, slow burn, slight enemies to lovers (reader more just pities steve), cursing, miscommunication, unrequited love, angst, protective older sister chaos, violence in the later seasons.
blurbs ‧₊˚. director's cut .˚₊‧ playlist ‧₊˚. jonathans mixtape for bug
SEASON ONE
SEASON TWO
SEASON THREE
SEASON FOUR
STATUS: complete (for now)
MAIN MASTERLIST
if you’d like to buy me a coffee ☕︎
Winter break here I come