Anakinmybae

She let out a breathy sound—half laugh, half snort—that practically screamed, girl…this is who you’re into?

I groaned, gripping the wheel a little tighter as I slowed in front of his building. Oh, how I hated that she made me give her his socials. But then again, in this day and age, a woman could never be too careful. The chances of him being a serial killer were low… but never zero.

“The photos don’t do him justice!” I protested, squinting through the windshield as I finally spotted his building and swerved into the nearest open space on the street. “I swear he’s hot, Ave. And really sweet too.”

Ava snorted again, louder this time. “Yeah? You know who else was hot? Ted Bundy. And look how that turned out.”

This bitch.

I put the car in park and rolled my eyes so hard it physically hurt. “You’re sooo dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Her voice pitched up, incredulous. “Babe, I'm being proactive. I watch Dateline. You think any of those girls expected to end up in suitcases at the bottom of a lake?”

“Ava—”

“I’m just saying,” she continued, undeterred, “if you go missing, I need to be able to give the cops something. So text me the address, because right now all I’ve got is a guy who looks like he sleeps on a mattress on the floor and records shitty SoundCloud rap about his ex.”

I stifled a laugh, unbuckling my seatbelt and shooting off a quick I’m here text to Eric. “Okay, first of all, you worry way too much. Second, we have mutual friends—he’s not just some rando from the internet. And third, Ted Bundy had a unibrow. Eric has very nice, very separate eyebrows, thank you.”

…Sitting perfectly above a pair of stupidly pretty green eyes—not that I was thinking about them or anything.

“Girl… the unibrow was not the takeaway here,” Ava said, dry as ever. I could practically hear her eyes rolling through the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I sighed, glancing up at the building again, watching for the moment Eric would come out to get me. “But seriously, can we chill on the serial killer talk for a second? He’s normal, I swear. It’s just… this neighborhood? Not exactly prime real estate, and it’s kinda creepy out here at night.”

Ava’s voice dropped to mock-serious. “Oh sure, because the creepy shadows and the flickering streetlights totally scream safe.”

“Ave,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, convincing. “I’m fine. Sitting in my car with the doors locked. Eric’ll be out any minute now.” I spun the ring on my finger—mostly out of habit, but partly to ground myself.

“Mmmhmm.” She didn't believe me, not even a little. “Okay, well, if anything feels even slightly off, you text me a safe word. Like… bananas.”

“Bananas?” I blinked, mind buffering for a second before it finally clicked. “Wait—girl, is that a Gwen Stefani ref—”

“This shit is bananas—B-A-N-A-N-A-S!” She cut me off, belting it through the speaker, loud and proud.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Honestly, I should’ve known. Ava had been a Gwen stan since grade school—it was practically in her DNA.

“Bitch, you know it is.” I heard the smug grin in her voice, right before she added, “anyway, laugh all you want, but the second I see a one-word text that just says ‘bananas,’ I’m pulling up with pepper spray in one hand and a shovel in the other—no questions, no hesitation.”

“Duly noted.” I said, cracking a small smile just as the front door opened.

Eric stepped out, framed by the golden glow of the building’s dim light, looking almost too good to be real. Like something out of one of those religious paintings my grandma used to hang—if the saint in question had tattoos, messy hair, and green eyes that made me forget how to form sentences.

And suddenly, all of Ava's Dateline-themed warnings felt miles away.

“Okay, he's waiting for me at the door,” I murmured, heart pounding like this was my first time hanging out with a guy. “I gotta go.”

“Text me when you get inside. And again when you leave. Also, I hope you have fun tonight—but don’t forget: bananas.”

I let out a quiet laugh, rolling my eyes. “You’re never allowed to pick the hypothetical safe word again.”

“Oh, come on. It’s iconic and you know it,” Ava teased. “Now go. Don’t keep Lil Peep 2.0 waiting. Love you.”

“Love you too.” I ended the call with a soft shake of my head, locked my phone, and dropped it into my purse.

Deep breath. He’s just another guy.

Yeah, a really hot, really sweet guy, the insecure voice in my head whispered. Hope you don’t blow it.

“Shut up.” I muttered to myself, pulling the keys from the ignition as the soft overhead light clicked on and the car chimed in protest.

I stepped out and instantly regretted not bringing a jacket. The cool night air slid over my skin, licking at my bare arms and raising goosebumps in its wake. But I wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the way Eric was looking at me. His eyes were soft, but there was something focused in them, like he was already memorizing the shape of me; every curve, every nervous smile. It made something flutter low in my stomach, warm and fizzy and impossible to ignore.

I pulled my purse over my shoulder and nudged the car door shut with my hip, the sharp beep of the lock echoing behind me as I crossed the street, boots clicking softly on the pavement. He lifted a hand in a small wave, and the faintest smile tugged at his mouth—soft, shy, and absolutely heart-melting.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice low and warm, in a way that sent heat pooling low in my stomach.

“Hey yourself,” I replied with a smile of my own, trying my best to sound casual. Like my heart wasn’t threatening to beat straight out of my chest.

I stepped onto the stoop, and up close like this I was fully able to take in our size difference. We had mutual friends, sure, but I’d never actually seen him in person—only in tagged photos on Instagram. And yeah, he was always the tallest one in the group, but I hadn’t expected him to actually tower over me like this.

Honestly? It was hot. Unfairly so—the way his large frame completely dwarfed mine in comparison.

My eyes dragged up his chest, over the curve of his jaw, stopping just shy of his mouth before I forced myself to look away—casual, like I wasn’t mentally calculating how high I’d have to tilt my head just to kiss him.

And maybe that shouldn’t have been the first thing my brain latched onto, but here we were.

“Glad you made it,” he said, stepping aside to hold the door open. “I hope you didn’t have a hard time parking. This neighborhood's a bitch for street spots.”

His hand curled around the doorframe—long fingers, tattoos trailing across his knuckles, veins just visible beneath the ink—and for a second, I let myself imagine what they’d feel like wrapped around my throat instead.

Jesus. Get a grip.

“Parking wasn’t a problem at all,” I said, brushing past him as I stepped inside. His scent hit me immediately—something warm and smoky, a little citrus, a little patchouli, and underneath it, the faintest trace of weed. God— it should be illegal to smell that good.

“Besides,” I continued, forcing my voice to stay even. “My best friend was busy giving me a full FBI-level rundown of your Instagram profile—” The words were out before I could stop them and I instantly regretted it.

I glanced back, cheeks warm, biting my lip to keep from visibly cringing. But he didn’t look freaked out. If anything, he actually looked… amused? Oh thank god.

His eyebrows lifted, and a sheepish grin pulled at the corner of his mouth, the barest hint of pink rising on his cheeks. “Oh yeah? Did I pass her background check?”

“Barely,” I said with a grin. I’d already run my mouth this far, and he didn’t seem to mind—might as well have some fun with it. “She said you look like you make sad-boy SoundCloud rap and sleep on a mattress on the floor.”

He laughed. Not just a polite chuckle, either—a real, head-tilted-back kind of laugh that echoed softly off the stairwell walls as we made our way up.

My breath hitched at the sound—low, easy, and so unfairly beautiful it made my heart stutter. For a split second, my knees threatened to give out. God, he was way too fucking hot. And me? I was absolutely smitten.

“Well, she clocked me with the bed frame. Or, you know, the lack of one,” he said, glancing down at me with a grin, laughter still lingering in his voice. “But I haven’t written a song since high school—and it was terrible, by the way. So maybe let her know I’ve at least got that going for me.”

“Oh, I will,” I said smiling, trying not to stare at the ink covering his arms—how his muscles flexed as we moved. “That’ll really put her at ease.”

He huffed a soft laugh, but didn’t say anything else as we reached the second floor.

The stairwell was narrow and warm, every step echoing sharply against the concrete beneath our feet—loud enough to fill the silence between us. I was hyper-aware of how close he was. How good he smelled. How my hand brushed against his, sparking a thrill that shot straight through me.

We hit the third floor and he led me down the hall, stopping in front of a faded green door—beat-up, paint chipped near the knob, with a shallow dent near the bottom like someone had tried to kick it in. Most people would see that and assume he was slumming it. But honestly? It felt kind of perfect. A little rough around the edges, but still charming. Just like him.

“I cleaned,” he said, twisting the knob. Then, after a beat, “Well, I lit some incense and shoved most of my shit into the closet.”

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear as he pushed the door open. “Honestly? That’s more effort than most guys put in.” My gaze flicked over him, amusement tugging at my lips. “I once went on a date where the guy opened his car door and an avalanche of empty cans spilled out. So you’re already exceeding expectations.”

“Well,” he started, stepping aside to let me in, “I’d say I’m sorry the bar’s that low, but honestly, I think that works in my favor.” He held the door open for me as I stepped inside, brushing past him just close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him.

“Oh? And why’s that?” I asked, letting my eyes sweep over the living room.

His apartment wasn’t big but it had a kind of messy charm—very much an extension of him. The lighting was low and warm, casting shadows across a worn brown leather couch that looked like it had been thrifted. Sketches—rough, scratchy, probably unfinished—were pinned crookedly to the walls. An ashtray sat on the coffee table with a half-smoked joint resting in it, and despite the incense he’d lit, the faint, stubborn scent of weed still hung in the air.

“Because,” he said, stepping in behind me, the door clicking shut, “I like the idea of impressing you.”

My breath caught for a second, my stomach doing giddy little flips at the thought of Eric actually wanting to impress me. A small smile tugged at my lips as I turned to look at him. He stood in front of me, the corner of his mouth lifting into a soft, almost shy smile, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. He scratched the back of his neck, a little awkward, like he wasn’t sure if he should have said that out loud.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, voice a little shyer than before, “you want something to drink? I think I have some LaCroix… or maybe even beer if you’d prefer that?”

I nodded, still smiling as I tried to steady myself “LaCroix sounds good,” I said even though a beer would probably help to calm my nerves. But I knew myself too well—one beer would lead to another, then another, and suddenly I’d be that lightweight drunk girl who jumps his bones without a second thought. And truthfully? I didn’t want him to think of me as just another girl to hook-up with.

He smiled again, a little wider this time, like he was relieved I’d given him something to do. “Be right back,” he said, before disappearing into the kitchen.

A quiet beat passed, followed by the soft thunk of the fridge door opening and closing, the fizz of a can cracking open, echoing faintly through the apartment and filling the silence he left behind.

I set my purse down on the chair next to me and pulled out my phone, shooting Ava a quick text to let her know I made it in okay— otherwise she’d assume I’d been trafficked or left to rot in a dirty basement and start calling local law enforcement.

Once it was sent, I slid my phone into my pocket and wandered toward the nearest wall, leaning in for a closer look at the sketches pinned up. Most of them were rough, almost frantic—quick, impulsive lines that looked like they’d been done in a rush of inspiration or emotion. They were messy and imperfect, but weirdly intimate. Honest in a way I wasn’t expecting to see hung out in the open like this.

When he came back, he was holding a glass filled with ice and LaCroix, condensation already slipping down the side. He handed it to me, and when our fingers brushed, something sharp and warm jolted straight through me, sending heat crawling up the back of my neck.

“Thanks,” I murmured, trying to pretend like my pulse wasn’t suddenly loud in my ears.

“No problem,” he said softly, sinking into the couch, his long legs parting in a comfortable manspread. He patted the spot beside him, looking up at me with a small smile that made my stomach twist. “C’mon. You won’t have much fun watching the movie if you’re standing all night.”

My fingers tightened slightly around the chilled glass as I hesitated for a moment—not long, a second, maybe two—before my legs finally decided to work, carrying me over to him. I sat down on the couch beside him, leaving just enough space between us to pretend like I wasn’t hyper-aware of every inch of him.

The way his arm rested along the back of the couch. The stretch of his thighs in those worn jeans, his knee brushing against mine. The warmth radiating off his body like it was trying to reach for mine—it was all enough to make goosebumps prick up along my arms.

“I queued up the movie you mentioned.” he said, nodding toward the TV as he grabbed the remote. “Or we can watch something else if you’re not feeling it—no pressure.”

I took a sip, trying to chase away the sudden dryness in my mouth. “No, this is good. I think you’ll really like it.”

One of our late-night texts had detoured into a rabbit hole about David Lynch, and when Eric admitted he’d only ever seen bits and pieces of Blue Velvet, I stared at my phone like it had personally offended me. Only Blue Velvet? And not even watching it all the way through? That was blasphemy in my book. I told him we were fixing it immediately. No room for negotiation.

And tonight, we were doing exactly that—starting with Mulholland Drive, my favorite.

I kept my eyes on the screen as he hit play, trying my best to focus on the movie instead of the distractingly hot man sitting beside me. Or the way his arm slowly stretched along the back of the couch, inching closer until the warmth of his fingertips skimmed my shoulder, light but deliberate. I should’ve been paying attention to the movie—believe me, I tried. But as the minutes passed, I found myself sneaking glances at him instead, gauging his reactions to my favorite moments.

The slow dread at Winkie’s diner, his grip tightening against the couch as the two men stepped outside, the tension stretching impossibly thin before the reveal. The way he laughed under his breath when Billy Ray Cyrus appeared, sudden and absurd. I bit back a small laugh of my own, knowing I’d had the exact same reaction the first time I watched this movie, because how fucking random was that cameo?

By the time we reached Club Silencio—my absolute favorite scene—I risked another glance.

And froze.

Eric’s eyes were still trained on the screen, but I didn’t miss the slight curve at the corner of his mouth—a smirk he seemed to be fighting back.

“You know,” he murmured, turning his head toward me, an amused smile spreading across his ridiculously plush lips. Even in the dim light, his viridian eyes gleamed—warm, knowing, stupidly pretty. “I can always tell when something weird’s about to happen.”

My heart stuttered. “What? How?”

“You have this habit,” he said, soft and teasing. “Right before something weird and Lynchian hits—you stop watching the movie and start watching me.”

Oh.

My eyes widened as realization settled in— Oh god, no.

My stomach dropped like I’d been launched off a roller coaster, and heat shot straight up my neck, flooding my cheeks and ears in one humiliating, full-body blush.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Oh.” I looked away quickly, biting my lip as mortification took over. “I-I didn’t mean to—sorry, I—”

“Don’t be.” He cut in gently, shifting closer. “It’s kind of cute.”

Oh God. Okay. That did absolutely nothing to calm my nerves. If anything, it made my heart race faster, hammering in my ears as my breath caught. I froze, suddenly acutely aware of his fingers tracing lazy, absentminded circles along my shoulder, like he hadn’t just dismantled what little composure I thought I had in under ten seconds.

“Knowing I have your attention, I mean,” he added, amusement flickering in his green eyes as he took in my reaction.

“Well, someone clearly grew up deprived of it.” The words left my mouth before I could think better of it, and immediately I felt my cheeks reignite. Oh fuck me—why did I say that? I’d meant it as a joke, but it hadn’t come out like one. Not even close.

Utter silence followed, made all the worse by the fact that Eric’s hand had gone still on my shoulder.

I was sure I’d ruined my chance with him, that he’d stop the movie and politely tell me it was time to leave, but to my shock, Eric’s face relaxed into a hint of a smile.

“I can’t believe you just called me out like that.” A low chuckle slipped from his throat, and I wanted to disappear—sink into the couch, teleport to literally anywhere but here—because I was certain he wasn’t amused. He was just laughing at my sheer audacity.

An inferno consumed my body, and I was positive I was in hell, doomed to make an ass of myself for all eternity while he just sat there, probably regretting ever inviting me over.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t mean it like that!” I blurted out, stumbling over my words as Eric’s hand trailed along my shoulder, moving further up until his fingers rested at the back of my neck, leaving a cascade of tingles in their wake. “I don’t even know why I thought it was funny, I—”

Shock pinned me to my seat. Eric’s lips were on mine before I could even finish my sentence. His hand curled around the back of my neck, holding me captive as his lips moved against mine—soft at first, then growing deeper, more insistent. My fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer as I smiled into his kiss, grateful that this was how he chose to shut me up.

It was a soft kiss, chaste in the way it started, but the effect was the same as a full-blown make-out session. Sparks consumed my skin, and the heat in my stomach flared to life. I shuddered at the sensation, my pulse beating so erratically I couldn’t hear anything else. Eric’s lips were warm and firm against mine, and I tasted the lingering smoke from his joint, tempered by the cool bite of mint on his tongue; it only made me crave more. I wanted to lose myself in him—to pull him closer, to wrap myself around him and devour him until every bit of him was inside me.

Eric pressed his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my lips. “God… you’re cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, his chest rising and falling in uneven, shallow breaths. Heat crept up my cheeks, and I pressed my lips together, struggling to contain my smile. Butterflies rioted in my stomach, and I’d barely had a second to steady myself before his mouth found mine again, unable to keep away.

His lips moved hungrily against mine, his tongue sweeping along the seam of my lips, coaxing them open as he nudged inside when I parted for him. My chest fluttered, and a fog of lust clouded my mind as he explored my mouth. Every inch of me trembled under the weight of his touch, and I gasped sharply when Eric pulled me onto his lap, his hands firm on my hips, guiding me to move against him as the kiss deepened, growing more needy.

I could feel his hard cock pressing against my core, and I ground against it shamelessly, desperate for the friction. Eric groaned against my lips, a low almost desperate sound that made my body pulse with need, each roll of my hips growing more frantic than the last. A broken whimper slipped past my lips as I bucked against him, my arousal growing as pleasure flooded through me in a way I'd never experienced before.

“Fuck,” he breathed against my lips, the word shaky, strained. He pulled back just enough for me to see his face—and the sight of him stole my breath.

His green eyes were glazed with lust, his swollen lips parted, his brows creased in barely restrained pleasure. He looked like he was right on the edge, concentrating on forcing that need down even as every instinct screamed for release.

Holy fuck.

That expression was the single hottest thing I'd ever seen. And the fact that I had put it there—that I was the reason he looked like that—sent my heart racing, my pussy throbbing in equal measure as I relished the sight of him.

Eric must have seen the arousal on my face because the corner of his mouth lifted, and he bit his lower lip in an attempt to hide the smile threatening to break through. Then he leaned back in, capturing my lips in a short kiss. “Wanna take this to the bedroom?” he purred, his thumbs slipping beneath the waistband of my jeans as he nipped at my lower lip, pulling just enough to elicit a soft moan from me.

I couldn’t help the shiver that ran through me at his offer—God, that sounded really fucking nice right now—but I knew I had to control myself. I knew I wanted to be more than just a one-night stand to him, wanted something that meant more than a moment I’d replay and regret later; I’d already collected too many of those.

It took every ounce of willpower I had to put some space between us, a soft whimper slipping out at the loss of contact. “Mmm… m-maybe—” I breathed, my voice unsteady. “Maybe another time,” I finished quietly, still trying to catch my breath.

Eric froze beneath me, and my chest clenched at the stillness. A slow sigh slipped from him before his lips pressed into a thin line, tight and unreadable. His fingers slid from my waistband, smoothing my jeans back in place with a care that somehow felt worse than if he’d just pulled away completely, then rested on my hips, kneading gently as he looked anywhere but at me.

My heart lurched, and panic washed over me. Had I disappointed him? Was this all tonight had been to him—just a hope for a hookup, nothing more? A sharp pang shot through me, and I bit the inside of my cheek, desperate to swallow the lump forming in my throat.

I’d already loosened my grip on him, my body trembling with the urge to pull away, to gather my things, and storm out of his apartment, when he snaked his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him. Before I could react, he leaned forward for a moment, tipping me with him as he reached for something on the coffee table behind me, then settled back against the couch.

“That’s fine,” he said, holding up a bottle of black nail polish and rolling it between his fingers. “You wanna paint my nails instead?” His voice was soft, and the small, almost hopeful smile tugging at his lips made it impossible to think straight.

My brows lifted, surprise flickering through me. “I… you mean you’re not upset?” The question came out small, uncertain. I’d been so sure, from the way he’d reacted earlier, that I’d blown it—ruined the night completely just by saying no.

Eric tilted his head, that familiar crease of confusion knitting between his brows. “Upset?” His voice was low, teasing, yet edged with curiosity. “Why would I be upset?”

I swallowed, heat creeping up my neck as a flash of embarrassment hit me. “Because…” My voice faltered, and I hated how small I sounded. “…because I turned you down.”

Eric leaned back slightly, those sharp, beautiful features softening with a hint of concern. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentle as he lifted a hand to cup my cheek. “I'd never be upset at you for that. You don't owe me anything.” A small, quiet smile tugged at his lips, warm and a little shy. “I’m just happy a girl as beautiful as you wanted to hang out with a loser like me.”

I felt that familiar flutter in my stomach, warmth spreading through my chest. “Well… I make exceptions for hot losers,” I teased, a soft giggle escaping me before I bit my lip to stifle it, still unsure. “But… you really mean that?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Eric’s smile widened just a fraction, that same warmth in his gaze nearly melting me on the spot. “And a guy who throws a tantrum because a woman doesn’t want to fuck him? That’s not a man—that’s a child playing dress-up in adult clothes,” he said softly, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek. “And trust me, I don’t do tantrums.”

“Besides…” His voice dropped just slightly, soft and intimate. “I don’t mind taking my time.” His lips brushed mine in a slow, claiming kiss, nipping gently at my lower lip before adding softly, almost lazily, “And I plan on enjoying every second.”

A/N: Definitely not the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written, and yet it has no business being this hot 🥵🫦 (turns out writing about the first time my bf and I hung out will do that to a girl hjgfhbhj—hope you guys enjoyed!)

P.s. tag yourselves—I’m Ava😂

Tiny lil taglist for those who seemed interested 🫶🏻:

He still remembers the feeling like it was yesterday because it practically was.

The day his parents told him they had to leave their homeland and flee to some faraway land. A clan far beyond their own, surrounded by others in which he did not know.

Neteyam felt sick.

He didn't want to leave the place he grew up, where all his happiest and most important memories reside. He hated not being given the choice. But he knew the decision came from his father, and so, there was no room for argument. He tried to make his peace with it, but there was one component he couldn't fully come to terms with.

That was never seeing you again.

You had grown up with him, with you being a couple moons older than he was, not by much, but enough for you to constantly remind him of. And yet, he still found himself taking care of you. From when you both were little he deemed himself your "protector", always looking out for you and making sure you were safe and okay.

He was happy, content in those days.

But now, he couldn't bear to look at your face.

You're in the crowd of your clan, watching as his father gave up headship to another and watching as they prepare to leave. Your legs wobbled as you tried your best to hold back your tears. You didn't want them to leave.

You didn't want him to leave.

The day he told you about his father's decision was the day you felt as if you were being doused in the coldest water the Forest could offer. And now, you stand in the crowd of hundreds, watching as the Sully Family departs.

They all walk solemnly, with their emotions painted as clear as day on their faces. They didn't want to leave, but they had to. Toruk Makto said "there's no other way." So the family had to concede.

You watch with teary eyes as the friends you've held so dearly to your heart mount their ikrans and prepare for their departure. You could barely hear what was happening anymore, your heart hammering so violently in your chest that the feeling alone felt like it was swallowing you whole. You glance at Neteyam, who was securing the last of his things onto his ikran when you don't even register that your feet were moving underneath you, kicking up grass in your stride as you run towards him. Murmurs in the crowd can be heard but no one, not even the Tsahik, stops you.

Neteyam's ears twitch as he hears the sounds of leaves rustling and he looks up to see you running towards him. His eyes softened, just a bit and he took one step forward and opened his arms to you. You, upon seeing this, sped up and barreled straight into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"I am going to miss you."

His arms lock around you and he murmurs back to you. "I am going to miss you too." You peel your head off his chest and look at him. He shares the same glance at you. You smile sadly. "Be safe, okay?" He nods. "Okay.." His father then calls out to him to get in his ikran, because they are ready to leave. He slowly separates from you and walks back towards his ikran and mounts it. He glances back one final time before he, and his family take off.

You stand stationary and soon enough, your feet are following them. You stand at the edge of the gathering site, the Hometree, and watch as they leave, disappearing above the trees. When they're finally out of view, you clasp your hands together. "Great Mother.. Please keep them safe." Your parents come and usher you back in and as you walk, your eyes are set in the direction they left in, barely looking at the steps your two feet were taking.

☆彡

It's been many moons since then.

Since the Sully's had to leave everything behind. Since they had to adapt to the Metkayina way. It was hard, very hard, but they're getting the hang of it.

Both Jake and Neytiri observe their children, to see how they conform, how they adapt. And they notice something.

Neteyam is doing everything he normally does, but he's also.. different from what he used to be, his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes anymore and he seems more reserved than usual. She watches, studies and when she's come to a conclusion, she tells Jake about it. Then he begins to notice as well.

How Neteyam still does well in his training, but it's almost as if his mind lingers. How his strikes still connect the way they're intended, but there is a hint of unsaid emotion behind them. How he's picked up habits he never had before. His hand twirling around his hair absentmindedly, how he pinches at his own side when he's spacing out.

And then there was the weaving.

His patterns had not changed, but they had something extra added into them. The weaving patterns, still intricate, had a feel to them that neither Jake, Neytiri or any of his siblings had felt from him before. He gives off a sturdy, steady sense of craft.

Whatever he made, it was strong.

But now, his craft was still albeit strong, but also.. soft?

They had a tenderness that they didn't carry before.

And then the straw that broke the camel's back.

Both Jake and Neytiri had been taking a walk beside the ocean, finally getting to admire the scenery after a long day of training when they stumbled across the children, huddled into a circle on a big, smooth rock on the shore of the ocean. They both smiled slightly, and were within earshot, to hear what the kids were talking about.

"Bro he's so in love it's crazy!"

"I am not.. would you shut up you skxawng."

Lo'ak had been teasing his elder brother about the girl he had to leave behind. His laugh bellowed as the others around them laughed a bit as well.

"Yeah! She was always the one he would be all smiley with!" Tuk's little voice chirped.

Neteyam sighed as his ears turned a deep shade of purple. "Guys please.."

"Well.. is she pretty Neteyam?" Tsireya questioned.

The tone now quieted as everyone looked at him. His siblings gave him teasing smiles, already knowing what his answer would be. Neteyam smiled slightly. "Yeah.. she's the prettiest.." He shocked even himself with the soft tone he used. He shakes it off.

Lo'ak fake gagged as Tsireya let out an "aww". "So you must miss her?" This time, it was Ao'nung asking the question. Neteyam nods. "Yeah of course."

"I'm sure brother does, seeing that he's been mumbling her name in his sleep ever since we got here" Kiri teases. Neteyam groans and lets out a laugh as the conversation continues.

In the background, both Jake and Neytiri share a look, as if they've finally figured out the missing piece of a puzzle they've been trying to fit together. "Ma Jake." "I know baby.. let's talk to the Olo'eyktan and Tsahik okay?" Neytiri nods, they both now have a plan set in motion.

Since then, Neteyam carries on with his day as usual, training, learning, observing, repeat. He does as he's told, follows his father's orders and does his best to keep his siblings out of danger, same as usual.

Except today was different.

His usual routine was disturbed, and of all people, it was his father that disturbed it.

"Um dad..? Where are we going?"

"Hush boy. Just follow."

Neteyam was confused, but he followed nonetheless.

The entire Metkaiyna clan was gathered, all facing the ocean, just like they were when the Sully's arrived.

Neteyam saw his siblings and he went over to them as their parents stood behind them.

"What's going on?"

"Hell if I know."

They all stood there, staring out into the open sea.

Nothing happened. Until one person saw it.

"There!"

Everyone's head turned in unison to see someone.. flying?

Lo'ak was the first to speak.

"Holy shit is that an ikran..?"

Everyone began to talk amongst themselves. Of course, the Sully children were shocked, was it someone from their clan? Was it their grandmother? Or was it a messenger? They had no idea who or what to expect.

After a couple more moments, the banshee landed on the sand with a soft squeal. The mystery person dismounts and pets the animal, gently cooing at it before striding over to the Olo'eyktan and showing both him and the Tsahik respect.

Neteyam, Lo'ak, and Kiri share a look. They still had no idea who this person could be, because there was a hood obscuring the person's face. Tonowari begins speaking.

"We have another that will be staying with us, to learn the ways of the Metkaiyna!"

Whispers went through the crowd at his words and the person then removed the hood and looks up.

All of the Sully children gasp in shock.

Neteyam stares as he softly says your name. You look towards them and smile. His eyes widened. Was it you? Were you really standing in front of him after so long?

You exchange pleasantries, and make your way over to the Sully's. You smile. "Hi.. miss me?" Tuk is the first to make a break for you, almost tumbling into your legs as she hugs you and laughs happily. "You're here! You're here!

How are you here?! I missed you!" You could only giggle as you watch the small girl ask you questions a mile a minute.

One by one each of the children approach you and give you a hug, asking the same questions that their younger sibling is. Neteyam stays rooted in place. He still couldn't believe that you were in front of him. He thought he would never see you again. Softly once again, he murmurs your name.

You look up at him and smile. "Hi ‘Teyam."

He looked at you shocked, then he slowly stalked towards you with wide eyes.

“How.. how are you here?”

You say nothing as you hug him then look towards his parents. He catches this look and whips his head around to look at his parents as well. They both smile and Jake walks towards the both of you.

He leans over and whispers something in Neteyam’s ear and his face then deepens in a purple shade as he flushes. “Dad!”

Jake laughs as you look between them both, confused, but happy you’re able to be here.

☆彡

And soon enough, just like the rest, you begin learning the way of water.

You learn from Tsireya, and her older brother Ao’nung, right alongside Neteyam and his siblings. Everyone notices the shift in him almost instantly. He’s brighter, more full of life, and not moving as if he is simply functioned to do so.

He’s content. But he notices a shift in himself as well.

When you first returned, he was happy seeing his friend from childhood alongside him. He’s always been close to you, giving you compliments and taking care of you and you do the same as well.

But.. have you gotten prettier?

Even when you weren’t speaking to him, Neteyam’s gaze would drift to you. And like a magnet, like you could feel his eyes on you, you would look at him.

His nose would twitch as he looked at you and you when you catch sight of him, his breath catches. He offers you a small smile as you smile back.

What the hell is wrong with him?

He feels jittery as he spends as much time with you, like his body is betraying him. Still, he begins asking how you ended up here and how you’re adapting. You explain to him it was an agreement between both your parents and his, and that you're happy to be here, to be learning. He nods at your words.

“Ask your parents how I am able to be here by the way, they will tell you.” You look at him teasingly but he obliges and that night, he did just that.

When he approaches them with the same question he had asked you earlier, they explain to him that they noticed he wasn’t himself, so they thought it would be easier for him to adapt with someone he knows.

Someone he cares for in a way his parents see that is different.

Different?, he thought, puzzled.

But he shakes it off.

He takes you to a couple places in the following days, and talks with you, just the two of you.

“Neteyam you’re going to break your neck, come down please!” You laugh. The boy had been jumping from tree to tree gathering fruits. He wanted you to try the ones you haven’t before.

“Hold on just this last one!” He calls out. You could only smile as you watched him. ‘Dummy..’ you thought. He finally slides down the last tree with a net fully of different fruits. Your mouth waters.

He smiles at your expression. “Pick one..” You quickly fish out a fruit that looks the tastiest to you and takes a giant bite out of it. You hum, making a sound of delight as the juices hit your taste buds.

“It’s good!” You say through your bites as you look at him. His eyes soften and he sets the net down and wipes the excess fruit off your face. “Yeah?” You nod at him and something in his chest blossoms. His body felt like it was buzzing again. What is it that is making him feel this way?

After all, it’s just you.

The you he’s always known.

“You still eat like a child..” his voice is teasing and low. You turn to him, feigning offense with a playful gasp. “I do not!”

He guides you to sit and he sits next to you, feeding you more fruits as the sky begins to turn into the beautiful blue haze of night. You lean your head on his shoulder and just talk, having playful, light conversation, like settling right back into where you left off before he left.

He returns that night alone. You told him you’d be back soon, as you went to wash up with Kiri and Tsireya. As he walked into his family’s pod, he saw his brother and his father glance at him. Jake looks back down and a teasing expression creeps on his face. “Are you planning to court her?”

Neteyam freezes in his tracks. “Uh..?” Lo’ak laughs at his brother’s reaction. “Bro please don’t tell me you didn’t think Dad wouldn’t realize. I mean even I noticed.” Neteyam stares, “notice what?”

Jake laughs. “You haven’t noticed?” “Noticed what?” Neteyam now feels a bit frustrated.

What were they talking about?

Both Lo’ak and Jake glance at each other. “What do you see when you look at her?”Neteyam looks at his dad. “Look at who?” Jake sighs. “Don’t play dumb boy.”

He thinks for a moment then comes to a realization of what his dad was referring to.

You.

“Um.. I don’t know.. she looks like.. home.” The confession hangs in the air. Jake grins. “Yeah.. that’s how I feel when I look at your mother.” Neteyam flushes.

Lo’ak stifles a laugh.

“What do you think that means then?”

Neteyam's face fades into a deeper shade of purple. He knows what his dad is alluding to. Jake gives him a knowing look.

“You better get to her before someone else does.”

Neteyam nods shyly, then a beat of silence washes over them.

“Neteyam come here, you too Lo’ak, both of you sit right here.” Both brothers share a look before doing as their father says and sits in front of him. Jake puts down the dagger he was sharpening and turns to face them. “I’m gonna give you two one more thing I always say, this one applies to you two only.”

Lo’ak’s eyebrows furrow and Neteyam tilts his head in confusion.

Jake sits back then looks at Neteyam first. “What’s the first one?”

“Sully’s stick together.”

Jake nods then looks at Lo’ak.

“And the other?”

“Sully’s never quit.”

Jake nods again. “Right. Now, the last one is —“

The sun has risen again, and you find yourself weaving different baskets and accessories with Tsireya. You are in front of her family’s pod. Her mother is there as well and see she’s the both of you. She notes the synergy you have together, how you bounce off each other gracefully. Her daughter hasn’t had a friendship such as this. As she’s in her thoughts, watching you carefully, a small creature lands on your forehead. It sits there for a beat and it makes both you and Tsireya pause. Then it lifts and floats over to Tsireya, landing on her forehead as well. Ronal gasps silently. She watches it then it lifts once more and floats away. Both you and Tsireya laugh slightly as you continue your crafting. But Ronal takes that one instance as a sign. So she will make great use of it.

Both you and Tsireya drift back into casual conversation after what just happened. You were getting to know each other better, and you also didn’t know what to make of what just happened and neither did she, so for now, you stayed silent on the matter.

“So.. you have known Lo’ak and Neteyam from when they were children?” Tsireya asks gently, crafting herself a new top from shells, glossy rocks and seaweed. You sit beside her, currently making new pieces to put in your hair. “Yes.. we have been together since birth. Our families are very close.” She smiles at your words. “How was it? Growing up with them in the forest?” You look at her and grin. “Surprisingly, the first couple years were calm, we were all calm children.” “Even Lo’ak?!” You nod. “Yes, even Lo’ak. He was the quietest of all of us, now, he is the loudest.” You giggle and so does she.

You look at her as she laughs. “You like him, don’t you?” She looks at you with shock. “I.. um..” You smile at her. “It is cute.. I can tell he likes you too.” Her eyes turn to you. “You think so?” You nod. “I’ve grown with him, he really can’t hide it very well.” She smiles bashfully. “Then what about you? And Neteyam?”

Your breath catches and your eyes avert from her. “What about him?” “He called you the prettiest person he’s ever seen, you know?”

You whip your head around as you look at her. “He did?” She smiles widely and nods. “He did.”

Your hands are still on the hairpiece you were making and your face heats. She sees this and laughs. You groan. “How am I gonna face him knowing that..”

She continues making her top. “It will be easy, I notice boys choke up about these things more than girls do.” You send her a look and she winks at you. You crack a smile. “I have an idea..”

With the brothers, they’re now walking aimlessly on the shore of the water, kicking up sand in their wake. Their father’s words from last night resonate with them. “Sully’s get what they want.” Neteyam hears his brother groan from beside him. “What the hell does that even mean..” Neteyam shrugs. “I dunno..”

Before they could fully figure out what it meant, they see both you and Tsireya running towards them in the distance. “NETEYAM!” “LO’AK!” they both stop and simultaneously let out an “aw fuck”.

They couldn’t take their eyes off the both of you. We ran to them with such happiness in your expressions. When you both get to them, you share a smile and then you look at Neteyam. “..hi” He stares at you with eyes blown wide. “Hi..” You take in his features, then you stretch both palms out to him. “Here.. I made this for you..” it was a hairpiece, a new set of beads to put in his hair. “I hope you like them..” you smile at him. He looks at your palms then back at you and without warning, he takes the hairpiece from your hands and pulls you closer to him, dragging you away from his brother and Tsireya.

“Wait..!”

He doesn’t answer as he drags you away. You could only watch his back as you followed behind him. He wasn’t being rough with you, but he was strong.

Stronger than you.

He settled beneath some groves, and then he turned around to face you.

You stand in front of him, breathless.

He looks at you.

“How..” he begins. You listen intently.

He then laughs. “Has the Great Mother given you the ability to see into my heart?” You stand still for a moment, then you break into a laugh. You couldn’t help it, it was the first time in his life he said something that sounded so… far fetched.

“What are you talking about?”

He looks at you, like, really looks at you. You look back at him and your ears draw back. You feel shy under his gaze.

“Neteyam?”

“Hm?” He sweeps some of your hair out of your face. You tilt your head slightly at his as your tail flicks. “Something on my face?”

He doesn’t say anything, but he makes a face. A face you’ve seen before. “What are you not telling me?” He smiles at your question.

“In a couple moons.. that’s when I’ll tell you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Tell me what?” Your heart thumps in your chest. He takes your hand and puts your beads back in your hands. “Would you put them on for me?” You nod. “Okay..” He always speaks so softly to you, and it never fails to leave butterflies in your stomach.

He leans over, and you notice how tall he’s actually gotten and scrunchies your face with a murmur. “You grow like weeds..” He laughs. Carefully, you begin to string the beads in his hair. His ears flutter just slightly. You were so close to each other you were sure he could feel not only your breath on his ears, but your heart beating out of your chest as well.

Neteyam wasn’t holding up very well either. He could feel the heat radiating off your body and from where he was crouched, a simple look up at you would’ve left him stuttering, completely wordless. He was sure of it.

You finish up and pull back and he straightens up.

He looks.. flushed.

“Are you okay?” He looks down at you. “Yes.. they are pretty.. I like them. Thank you.” You smile. “You are welcome.” You stand facing each other, not saying anything. “What was it? What did you want to tell me earlier?” He grins, then pinches your side softly. “You will know soon.” You yelp in surprise and your ears raise at him. He mirrors your expression and grins. You begin chasing him as he laughs, running from you. Eventually you fell asleep after tiring yourself out. He carries you on his back, your face smooshed against his shoulder.”

“I will do it properly.. I promise..” he murmurs as he begins to take you home.

☆彡

“Pardon?”

You are sitting in front of a council of women, with the Tsahik being the head. “You have been selected to perform the sacred ritual of offering.” Your eyes flicked across the room. You don’t even remember how you got here.

Were they being serious?

“I am not sure I understand Tsahik.. I am an outsider, why have you chosen me to perform such a duty?”

She stared at you.

“My daughter will be the head of the ritual season, but she will need someone who can keep up with her, graceful, but strong minded, this is not to say you have been selected, but that you will be tested.”

Ronal knew the reason she selected you, of all people. Because of the sign the Great Mother had given her just a few days ago.

Your back straightened.

The ritual season is no easy task. It’s a two day long ceremony, with the ending being celebrated as a new season, another season of blessings from the Great Mother. There are many things that go into making sure it is done correctly.

Day one, a day of offerings to Ewya.

Day two, hunts, and into the night, a vast celebration.

“If you are to stay here, show that you are worthy.”

You look at her and nod. “Yes Tsahik.”

The time frame was short for you to get ready. You had to make sure you were prepared, spiritually, mentally and physically. You decided to keep it a secret, only telling Jake and Neytiri, who in part, helped you to get ready.

The ritual starts in two moons.

Which means, you would be underprepared if you didn’t focus.

You didn’t see anyone in those next two moons except for the Olo'eyktan, the Tsahik, Neytiri, Jake and lastly, Tsireya.

Of course the others questioned where you were.

Neteyam especially.

He was on edge since he hadn’t seen you in a bit. “She’s fine boy, get your head in the game, you’ll see her soon.”

Neteyam’s ears flicked back as he sighed and nodded.

You went through extensive training, learning how to do everything the Metkaiyna way. You wanted to make sure you got it right. From the physical training, to the dancing, the songs and lullabies, weaving, gathering herbs and so much more.

You worked until your body burned. Those two moons you got no sleep. You wanted to prove to yourself you could do this. And it seems your efforts have paid off.

You were chosen.

The sky seeps into a beautiful blue color as the sun rises on the first morning of the ritual. You were nervous. The Tsahik stands in front of both you and Tsireya. “You have been chosen to show unity between the clans,” her eyes turn to you, “you must carry out the duties and bring joy to the Great Mother, do not disappoint her, and do not disappoint me.” Both of your heads bow. “Yes Tsahik.”

She turns from you both.

“It is time.”

You are both adorned in the finest shells and most beautiful rocks the sea could offer. The women of the village had helped you dress, you felt closer to them in that aspect. They decorated your face, chest, and arms with an array of subtle but graceful shades of paints. Tsireya wears a ceremonial headpiece, high, but so beautifully decorated that it could practically be seen from anywhere in the village. You wear a headpiece as well, one similar to Ronal’s. It sits on the middle of your forehead, neatly placed and a beautiful shade of silver and blue.

You could tell Tsireya was nervous, and she could tell you were as well. You reach your hand to hers and you hold it. “We will do well.” She squeezes your hand with a soft smile and a nod.

Ronal steps out and begins introducing the start of the ritual period.

“Brothers and Sisters! We gathered to begin the ritual period to thank the Great Mother for the many blessings she has bestowed upon us. We must remain respectful throughout this time, and may we all be able to bear the honor and responsibility the Great Mother has placed upon us and bring more peace and prosperity!” The clan cheers.

This is now the time for you both to step out. You look at Tsireya and nod. “Go..” She nods back and begins leading out with you behind her. The tone is hushed as you both step out, head held steadily forward. You both hold baskets of different provisions to be handed out to each family in the village. You see Kiri, assisting as well, doing a primary prayer and you smile.

‘She must be so happy.. did they approach her separately?’ You decided to ask her about it later.

The tone is hushed as you move around the village, taking one item from your basket and presenting it to the head of each household with a silent prayer to Ewya.

You each handled a certain section of people, to make the work easier.

The Sully’s had been in your group. As you approach, Jake steps forward. “You look beautiful babygirl.” You smile at him. “Thank you.” Your eyes quickly flick to the rest of the family and you see all their eyes on you.

Neytiri gives you a small but proud smile, Tuk looks at you like she has little fireflies in your eyes, Lo’ak’s eyes aren’t even focused on you, he’s staring at Tsireya. You let out a small laugh. Then your eyes flick to Neteyam and your body heats. He’s staring so wide eyed at you that you feel like if he keeps it up, his eyes would roll straight out of his head. You grin at him and continue the ceremony after finishing the prayer with Jake.

You walk off, onto the next family. Jake turns to look at his sons. “Jaws up boys, you’ll catch insects in them.”

They both snap their mouths closed quickly. Tuk snickers at them.

The ceremony continues into the night, prayers and offerings being given. At the end, Tonowari gives a toast, brief, but empowering.

Music is sung and the first day, albeit repetitive, is now over. You, Tsireya and Kiri saunter off over to your friends.

You feel Tsireya’s hand touch yours. “You did well today..” you smile. “So did you.. you were beautiful by the way.” She laughs shyly. “You’re one to talk.”

You hear your name being called by Kiri. “Stop dragging your feet!” You both laugh as you catch up to her and now your surroundings by your friends.

Almost instantly, Neteyam reaches for you. “You didn’t tell me..”

You look up at him and smile. “Yeah, I wanted it to be a surprise..”

“Well I was definitely surprised.”

“Good. That is what I was hoping for.”

He reaches up and caresses your face.

“You are beautiful.”

You lean into his touch. “Thank you.”

You hear your name being called once again. “I have to go again. I will be back, okay?” He nods.

You walk back towards the center. Then Tonowari’s voice can be heard. “Before we retire the night, this is what tomorrow entails! There will be hunts! Gather yourselves and make sure you are ready to depart for tomorrow!” You and Tsireya stand next to him and he eyes his daughter. He turns to her, “you will choose a hunter to lead one group.” Her eyes widened. “..Anyone?” He nods, then he turns to you. “And you will do the same, I will not disclose to either of you what those hunts will entail, but know they will be the right hands to Ao’nung. This will shape the hunters of the next generation.”

Sweat prickles at the back of your neck. “Are you sure it is okay for us to choose?” You ask meekly. He turns his back. “It is essential. The people you choose will carry that with them for the rest of their lives. This is not something done often, and it must be taken seriously.” You both sigh shakily and your eyes sweep the crowd. You turn to Tsireya and you see her expression. She’s nervous.

You place your hand on her shoulder. “Trust yourself. Trust what your instincts are telling you to do.” She looks at you then takes a breath. “Thanks,” she turns to her father. “And it is okay for us to choose anyone?” He nods. She turns back to look at you. “Then I have chosen.” You look back at her, then to Tonowari. “So have I.”

Tonowari nods. You have a feeling by the way his gaze flickers into a certain direction in the crowd that he knows who you both will choose. “Two have been chosen to lead alongside Ao’nung as the younger hunting group. The Tsahik in training, and her advisor of this ritual will announce who has been chosen!” He steps back.

You both step forward, the amount of eyes on you now seem like rocks on your shoulders. You’re not even sure why you were permitted to do this, but all you can think is that this is the Great Mother’s plan. Tsireya speaks first. “The first person that will lead alongside the next Olo'eyktan in tomorrow's ritual hunt will be..” there’s a beat of silence. She glances quickly in his direction then trains her gaze back on the crowd and you smile.

You saw this coming.

“Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan.”

Gasps course through the crowd. Even the Sully’s themselves are shocked at this revelation. You’ll have to apologize to Jake later because you can already see the stress and frustration etching its way onto his face.

Tsireya steps back. You step forward.

“The next person that will lead alongside the next Olo'eyktan will be..”

Another pause.

You keep a poker face as you let the silence stretch on. You can almost see the eyes boring holes into your face as you take a breath.

“Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see both boys look at each other in shock.

You take a step back and Tonowari steps forward.

“It has been decided.”

he needs to come back desperately I fear💔.

"Hi," you say back, grinning up at him, happy to see him.

He mirrors your smile. “Okay, so I need a second opinion on the naming convention for my new campaign NPC. ‘Zargoth the Destroyer’ or ‘Lord Malador of the Shadowed Vale’?"

"Hmmm, I like Zargoth better. It's more intimidating. Plus, short and sweet, you know what I mean?"

Steve stares, remote dangling from his fingers. “Henderson. My house. A ‘hello’ would be nice. An appointment would be better.”

Dustin waves a dismissive hand. “Hi, Steve. This is important.” He plops down on the floor in front of you, effectively blocking Steve from your line of sight.

It doesn’t stop there.

Two days later, you’re helping Steve sort a mountain of mismatched socks that have just come out of the laundry. Weirdly, it's somewhat of a bonding experience, doing laundry together.

Robin lets herself in, her eyes landing on you like a spotlight.

"Oh, thank God you're here," she breathes.

"Where else would I be?" you joke.

She plops down on the bed, messing up Steve's organised sock piles. He sighs.

“My date with Vickie. At Enzo’s. It’s tomorrow. It’s a real, sit-down, checkered-tablecloth kinda date."

You put down the polka dot socks you were holding to beam at her. "That's amazing, Robin! I know how much you were looking forward to that."

"It is amazing! But it's also a crisis!" She grabs your shoulders, her eyes wide. “What do I wear? Do I go cute? Do I go cool? Do I try for both and risk looking like I’m trying too hard? And my hair— can you braid it?"

Steve holds up two socks that are clearly not a match—one black, one navy. "Hello? We're doing laundry. We were in the zone."

Robin spares him a haphazard glance. "This is important, Dingus." She turns back to you. "Please, I need you. I'm vibrating."

You can't help but laugh. "Okay, okay. I like your outfit now. It's chic, but doesn't look like you're trying too hard. And I can totally braid your hair, but I think it might look better down? Light makeup I can help you with, maybe a little eyeliner on your waterline. I have one I think'd suit you, it's in the bathroom."

Robin tugs on your hand, pulling you up to stand. "You're a genius."

Steve watches, helpless, as you're swept upstairs in a whirlwind of pre-date panic, then back down at his socks. "They're both dark," he mumbles to himself.

The true test of his patience comes during a Friday night movie marathon in the Wheeler’s basement. You’re on the floor, leaned back comfortably between Steve’s knees, his fingers in your hair, scratching absently at your scalp. It’s perfect. It’s your spot.

The movie plays, and Steve is content, his world pleasantly narrowed to the familiar weight of you against him and the scent of your shampoo.

Then, Lucas slides over from his spot next to Mike. He looks desperate. "Hey," he whispers, his voice strained. "I need help. It's an emergency."

You tilt your head back to look up at Steve with an apologetic smile before turning your full attention to Lucas. "What's wrong?"

"I pointed out a zit on Max's face," he confesses in a horrified rush. "I wasn't trying to be mean! I just noticed it! I said, 'Is that a new zit?' and she... she hasn't spoken to me in two hours. She's just been giving me this death glare. What do I do? Do I apologise? Do I ignore it? Do I buy her nail polish? Is nail polish even an apology gift?"

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, but your eyes are sympathetic. "Oh, Lucas. Okay. First, do not buy her nail polish. That implies you're paying way too much attention to her appearance, which is the problem. Buy her new skateboard bearings, she mentioned she needed some. And definitely apologize. Say, 'I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.' Keep it simple."

Lucas nods frantically, absorbing the instructions like they're a military briefing. "Got it. Thanks." He scuttles back to his spot, already planning his approach.

Steve’s hand has stilled in your hair. You feel him take a slow, deep breath behind you.

Before you can settle back against him, you catch Max’s eye from across the room. She gestures subtly with her head towards Lucas and rolls her eyes, but you see the hurt in them.

You give her a small smile in acknowledgement. Mouth, 'he's sorry. He'll make it up to you.'

Then, Dustin’s head appears, blocking the TV. “Okay, one more question about the D&D character convention. If a—”

But Steve has had enough.

He leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice is a low, soft murmur, tinged with a vulnerability that makes your heart clutch. “Hey, angel... can we get out of here?”

You twist to look up at him. In the flickering blue light of the TV, his expression isn’t annoyed. It’s wistful. A little tired.

“Yeah,” you whisper back instantly, without hesitation. “Of course.”

You gently extract yourself from his hold and stand up, reaching for your jacket. "We're gonna head out," you announce.

A chorus of groans erupts.

“What? Now?” Dustin whines.

"Yeah, I had a question to ask you!" Mike exclaims. "It's, like, life or death. I think the Chief's gonna kill me if I go see El again—"

“You can’t leave, I haven’t executed the apology protocol yet!” Lucas whisper-yells, panicked.

Steve opens his mouth, a familiar, defensive retort about how you’re not a UN negotiator clearly forming. But you step in before he can.

You smile, soft but firm, and slip your hand into Steve’s. “You guys’ll be fine,” you say, your tone gentle but leaving no room for debate. You turn your smile up to Steve, eyes warm. You give his hand a little squeeze. “I want some alone time with my boyfriend.”

The groans taper into scattered laughs. Max sends you a not very discreet thumbs up.

Steve looks down at you, warmth pooling in his chest. He gives you this look of such pure, dazed adoration it makes your heart skip. He doesn’t say a word. He just lifts your joined hands and presses a firm, grateful kiss to your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You heard the lady,” he says to the room, his voice light and full of happy energy. “We’re off-duty. Emergencies will have to wait.”

He leads you up the basement stairs, the sounds of the movie and the kids’ renewed bickering fading behind you.

The second the Wheeler’s front door clicks shut, sealing you both in the cool, quiet dark of the porch, Steve stops. He turns, and in the soft glow of the porch light, his expression is completely unguarded—all soft eyes and a tender, wobbly smile.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. He wraps his arms around you and sways gently on the spot, his cheek resting against your hair.

“My sweet, perfect girl,” he coos, the words a warm rumble against your temple. "You were so patient with them, solving everyone’s problems.”

He pulls back just far enough to cradle your face in his hands. His thumbs stroke over your cheekbones with a reverence that makes you feel dizzy.

He’s beaming at you, his eyes shining with so much affection it’s almost overwhelming. He leans in and peppers a flurry of soft, quick kisses all over your face—your forehead, your nose, each eyelid, your cheeks—murmuring between each one.

"My smart girl... giving everyone life advice... always being so kind and helpful and perfect..."

He finally lands on your lips, kissing you slow and deep, a kiss that tastes like gratitude and awe. When he breaks away, he’s breathless, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’m gonna melt into a puddle right here on Mrs. Wheeler’s porch,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with feeling. "The way you handle them all, and then you just… you turn those big, beautiful eyes on me and say that? In front of everyone?” He lets out a shaky laugh, his nose nuzzling against yours. “I’m done for. Completely done for.”

He hugs you again, squeezing you tight and lifting you just an inch off the ground. “C’mon, my love,” he says, "let's go to my place. I just want to look at you for a while. Is that okay? I just wanna hold my girl and look at her.”

You laugh, the sound full of softness and affection for your sweet, adorable boyfriend. "It's more than okay. Take me home, please, baby. I'm all yours."

A soft, almost wounded sound escapes him and he hugs you impossibly tighter for a second, his face buried in your neck. "Oh, my heart. You're gonna kill me. You're so perfect."

Steve finally lets you go, but only to take your hand, lacing your fingers together in a grip that feels reverent. He leads you to the car, opening the passenger door for you with a soft, "In you go, gorgeous."

The drive to his house is quiet, but the silence is thick with a new, syrupy sweetness. He keeps your hand in his lap, his thumb stroking incessantly over your knuckles when he's not changing gears.

"Just look at you," he murmurs at one red light, his free hand reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're so beautiful. I can't believe you're mine."

"I am," you remind him softly, leaning into his touch.

"I know," he breathes, like it's the greatest mystery and miracle of his life at the same time, somehow. "I know, baby. And I'm never letting go."

Once home, he doesn't even turn on the main lights. He guides you to the living room couch by the faint glow from the kitchen. He sits down and pulls you into his lap, arranging you so you're sideways, your legs draped over his, your head tucked perfectly under his chin. He wraps both arms around you, letting out a long, contented sigh.

"Here we go," he whispers, his lips against your hair. "Right where I wanted you all night. Just my girl and me."

You hum, a soft, contented sound as you melt into his warmth, all the busy energy of the night finally draining away.

Steve presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "You must be so tired, sweet thing," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing rumble in his chest. "Taking care of everyone all the time." His hand rubs slow, comforting circles on your back. "My sweet, exhausted angel."

He leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "But you know what?"

"Hmm?"

It was a peaceful day, the water calm and the breeze steady. So when there was a sudden commotion near the entrance of your village, where everyone was beginning to gather,  you followed, curious. 

Heading to your spot, in the very middle, heading to your best friend Tsireya, standing slightly behind her. You were practically Tonowari and Ronal's bonus child – growing up incredibly close to the family,  they accepted you as their own. 

You finally noticed the interesting family in the middle of the circle, they looked to be forest Na’vi. Hearing as the well known Toruk Makto spoke up, from what you gathered he was seeking uturu for his family. 

You noticed the eldest boy looking at you, and you watched as he performed the “I see you” motion. You smile, looking away as you blush a bit, before turning to whisper to Tsireya, “The eldest one looks quite cute – and the younger one keeps looking at you!” She giggled and pushed you away gently. 

Watching Tonowari and Ronal, they finally decide to let the family seek Uturu in your village. You smile as Tonowari turns to his children and you.

“My children, Ao’nung and Tsireya will help you learn the way of water. My daughter's best friend, Y/N can help as well.” Tonowari asks.

“Yes, sir.” Bowing your head respectfully, you respond. 

Walking over to Tsireya, you wave the Sully’s over, “Come, we will show you to your Marui.” 

As you and Tsireya lead the way, you look back to see Neteyam and Loak staring at the two of you, muttering to Tsireya as you both giggle. 

When you arrive at the Sully’s Marui, Tsireya takes over to show them around it. You find yourself walking down the dock, before diving into the water. Needing to cool down, you weren't aware you were being watched. As you resurface, you smooth your hair back out of your face, coming to rest your arms upon the dock. 

One of the Metkayina boys was sitting by the dock, gutting fish. You conversed with him, laughing softly as you spoke. It was meaningless conversation really, but you felt eyes on you the entire time. 

𓆝｡˚○

From the moment Neteyam saw you earlier today, he knew he needed to get to know you better. But as he watched you talk to a Metkayina boy, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. You were truly beautiful, and he knew you probably had many suitors, if you hadn’t already picked one. He just hoped he would get the chance to learn more about you. 

𓆝｡˚○

As you hopped out of the water, you noticed it was the eldest Sully boy who had been staring at you. Realizing you still didn’t know his name, you walk by, wringing your wet hair out, you stop in front of him. 

He was quite a bit taller than you, so you had to look up. Making a show of fluttering your lashes, you speak, “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

He seemed to be at a loss for words, but eventually responded “ Neteyam Sully. And yours?” 

“Y/N L/N.” You smiled up sweetly at him. “Ill see you around, Neteyam.” With that, you walked off. And Neteyam could've sworn you took his heart with you. 

𓆝｡˚○

The next day you, Tsireya, and Aonung head down to the water. The Sully's underwater lessons would start today. 

You sat on the dock with Aonung and Tsireya, feet dipped into the water. 

“I think this is all ridiculous. I don’t want to have to teach those freaks.” Aonung speaks. 

You nudge him with your shoulder, responding, “Come on, they're not that bad.”

Suddenly, a voice from behind speaks, “Oh really? Not that bad?” 

You recognize the voice as Neteyam’s, and you move to stand up, smiling sheepishly. 

“Sorry about that, my brother is overdramatic.” Tsireya speaks, patting Aonung on the back as she speaks to the Sully’s. 

Neteyam notices the look Aonung gives you and Tsireya, wondering how close you and Aonung really are. 

You speak up, “Alright, should we get started?” Looking at all four of the Sully’s as they nod, you all dive into the water as the lessons begin. 

𓆝｡˚○

The three of you had been teaching the Sully’s the way of water all day long. Kiri was an absolute natural and headed off on her own a while ago. Tuk was doing well but tired out easily. And the boys…Well they needed some extra help. 

You offered to help Neteyam so that Tsireya could help Lo’ak with anything he needed. Neteyam had gotten the hang of holding his breath underwater as well as swimming, and with many more days of practice he would be a professional. Now he just needed to learn sign language, and the other ways of the clan. 

As you sat with crossed legs on the dock in front of Neteyam, you began to teach some of the easiest signs. When the signs got harder, Neteyam seemed to struggle making them. You admired how even when he struggled, he never got frustrated, he only kept trying. After a little while, you offered to help. When he accepted, you grabbed his hand and held it in yours, showing him how to make the signs. 

You reveled in the warmth of his hands, and the feel of every scar. You found yourself wanting to ask how he got each and every one – if only to hear him talk for hours on end. Reluctantly, you released his hand and showed him some more of the signs. Too caught up in your own thoughts, you hadn't looked at his face. 

Because if you did, you would have seen the deep blush creeping up his neck and drowning out the blue in his cheeks. 

𓆝｡˚○

The next day was lesson free, as everyone was exhausted from the day before. Kiri, however, had tried to head out to the water. Neteyam and Lo’ak had gone out to explore the village when they noticed Aonung and his gang surrounding Kiri. 

When they had walked closer, they heard the boys teasing Kiri, and Lo’ak stormed up to them. Neteyam rolled his eyes and went after his brother, knowing his hotheadedness would only get them into more trouble. 

Holding an arm in front of Lo’ak to keep him from getting too close to the boys, Neteyam tried to talk to them. 

“Look, we don’t want any trouble, just leave me and my family alone.” Neteym speaks.

The boys don’t seem to stop however, and when Neteyam turns to leave he expects Lo’ak to follow, only to hear the sound of a hit. Groaning to himself, he turns around. He chuckles softly to himself before joining in. 

After all, he couldn't let his little brother fight the group all alone. 

𓆝｡˚○

You had noticed when Lo’ak and Neteyam walked over to where Aonung and Kiri were. You hadn’t paid them much mind until you saw them all start fighting. Watching as Aonung and his friends were beating up the Sullys. 

You ran over to the boys, shouting angrily, “Aonung!”

Aonung froze, and his friends followed shortly after. As you walked up to the boy, you grabbed him by his ear, pulling him down to your height. 

“What do you think you're doing?!" You shout.

“We were only teasing her…” He starts. You tut and release his ear, shoving him. He rubs his neck sheepishly as you wave him away. 

Kiri begins to lead Lo’ak back to heir Marui, and you turn back to Neteyam, who was staring at you wide eyed.

“Youre hurt.” You say, concerned as you walk closer to him to assess his injuries.

“It’s nothing too bad.” He says, using the back of his hand to wipe the blood that was dripping from his nose. 

You grab his hand, muttering something as you drag him along. When you arrive at the Tsahik’s tent, you drag him into the room you regularly used when healing. Instructing him to sit, you gather some bandages and salves.

“I'm sorry, Aonung can be a jerk sometimes.” You speak softly, dabbing at his split lip with a cloth, before rubbing some ointment on it.

“Yeah…Are you two…?” He trails off, curious about whether or not you were into Aonung.

You scrunch your nose up, pulling back to look at him. “Ew, no! He is by far not my type, and he's practically my brother. 

Neteyam lets out a hearty laugh that makes you absolutely melt.

“Well then, who is your type?” He speaks, taunting. 

“I don’t see how that's any of your business.” You flirt back, bandaging his knuckles.

His only response is a smirk. You pat his chest, moving to stand. 

“There you go, all patched up.” 

He reaches for your hand, bringing it to his mouth, “Thank you.” He says, before kissing your hand. 

You know your face is completely flushed, and you only manage to smile before he walks away.

𓆝｡˚○

The next day the Sully’s were given a day off, after lots of hard work. 

The sun was setting and you were laying on a dock with Tsirey. You laid on your stomach– hands playing in the water, while Tsireya laid on her back, looking up at the sky. 

“I mean he's just so perfect!” You speak excitedly. 

Tsireya – who knew exactly who you were talking about – rolled onto her side to face you.

“Isn’t he way older than you?” She responds.

“Only by two years! Besides, when has that ever stopped me?” You respond, legs kicking in the air and giggling as you speak. 

You continue, “I mean, they're tree climbing Navi right? I mean, you can trust me when I say i’d love to climb him like a tree-”

Tsireya cuts you off, “Y/N!” You both laugh loudly, enjoying the conversation. 

“I don’t fully blame you though, his younger brother is quite cute as well.” Your best friend speaks as she lays back down to gaze at the sky. 

“I knew it! He’s always staring at you anyways. Can you imagine it? We could mate with brothers and then we’d finally be family!” You speak excitedly. 

Tsireya nods along, smiling wide. When you notice the sun has dipped below the water, you sit up.

“I’ve got to go, I’ll see you tomorrow!” You stand and start to walk back home, when you notice Neteyam sitting by the water, not far from where you and Tsireya had just been. You silently prayed to Eywa that he hadn't heard the two of you. 

As you had begun to walk home, you are surprised when Neteyam joins you. Looking up at him, you were about to ask him what he was doing before he suddenly spoke, 

“So, you’d climb me like a tree huh?” He let out a little chuckle as he repeated your statement from earlier. Your jaw dropped as you stopped walking. 

“You heard that?!” You speak, tone hushed. 

He simply laughed as he smiled down at you. And there, under the moonlight, his hand came up to tuck some hair behind your ear, as his eyes stared longingly into yours. 

“I don’t think I’d mind if you did…” Neteyam’s voice trails off as his gaze lowers to your lips. 

Staring, your mouth slightly open as you realize that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. Your suspicions were confirmed as his mouth lowered onto yours, encasing you in a soft and sensual kiss. 

His lips moved slowly against yours, clearly in no rush, and you reciprocated just as much. Bringing your arms up around his neck to bring your body closer to his as his hands rested upon your hips. 

When you both pulled away, breathless, your soft giggles filled the air. 

“Wow.” You speak softly, scared to ruin the beautiful moment. 

“Yeah, wow.” He responds, before asking “Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

“May I walk you home?” He speaks, seeming as though he wanted to ask something else, but that was all that came out. 

“Absolutely.” You respond, smiling wide.

Your stomach drops, the familiar deep voice sending shivers down your spine. 

Kiri and Tuk giggles fills the room. “Oh, we were just talking about how obsessed—“

You send a kick to her thigh, “Nothing!” he raises his eyebrows at your sudden movement, “They’re just being weird. Are all Sully kids like this?”

He chuckles, his voice gruff and grounding making your tail unconsciously twitch, “Just them. I promise.”

Kiri notice and pulls your tail making you flinch and slap her arm. 

Neteyam sits next to you, looking at the cloth, beads, threads sprawled out. “What are you making?”

“A neck piece.” you answer, pulling on the thread.

He hums, his warm body moving closer to yours. You don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose or not.

“Want me to help?” 

You softly smile at him, “It’s okay. You can just stay here and entertain me with your stories.”

Neteyam’s head ducks for a second, with the eye contact. Your cheeks are soft, your eyes are bright and so so pretty, it’s hard for him to concentrate. 

“I can do that.” 

Tuk and Kiri share knowing smiles at the look you are sending each other. Taking the hint, they both stood up, half-assing their excuse. “I think I just heard mom call us. You guys have fun!”

You chuckle at their antics, the soft atmosphere now charged with energy that you believed was all in your head. 

It’s not.

Cause Neteyam feels it too.

He let out a deep breath, shoulders relaxing, his soft eyes now trained all over your face. His long fingers grazing the materials in front of you absentmindedly.

“Stop.”

His eyes widened. “Stop what?”

“Looking at me.”

The corner of his lips turned upwards, his ears twitching, “Sorry.”

The silence that falls is comforting, cozy, easy. It’s always like that with him. He smells of salt in the sea, trees from the forest and something that is just so entirely him.

It makes you dizzy.

“Can I play with your hair?” he shyly whispers.

You nod, “Mhm.” adjusting your posture, making room for him. 

He’s hesitant for a few quiet moments. Staring at your figure from the back in this new light that he doesn’t know when it occurred to him. 

You have always been a constant factor in his life. His best friend. His partner in crime (aside from Lo’ak). It was always you. Always have, always will be. 

The thought sends sensations all throughout his body, his tail moving to lay on top of yours.

“Teyam? Where did you go?” You teased.

His heart flutters at the nickname, tail swishing around unconsciously, “I’m here. I’m here.” you can hear the smile forming on his lips.

He starts slow, his fingers are rough compared to your soft hair. But his movements show care, patience, love.

You suck in a sharp breath. Nope. No.

The both of you fell into a harmonious rhythm, the bubble soft and fragile. He starts talking about his day, his dad, his siblings, the flowers that he saw at the forest which he says ‘reminded me of you.’

“Can I ask you something?” Neteyam asks in a quiet voice. 

“'course.” 

He blinks for a few seconds to focus, “Have you ever… you know… thought about— um—“

Your eyebrows furrow together at this stutter, slightly looking over your shoulder, "About what?"

A silence passes. 

"Having a mate?"

Your body freezes, fingers stopping their repetitive movement you were making, "Uh—“ you nervously chuckle, "What brought this on?"

Neteyam shrugs, you can't see him, but you feel it. The air moves around him like it always does, "My dad gave me the talk."

You gasp, turning around, smiling so wide your cheeks were starting to hurt, "You got the talk?" 

He squinted his eyes at your excitement, "I don't know why you're so happy." 

You shook your head, giggles flowing through your lips, "It's just funny! It means you're old. You're basically a grandpa now." 

He raises his eyebrow, and flick your forehead, "We're the same age." 

Your nose scrunches, and Neteyam has to hold himself back from biting your cheeks. Eywa help me. She's too cute for her own good. 

Suddenly, your thoughts linked itself together, your smile dropping no matter how hard you try to not make it obvious; it is. Especially to Neteyam, "Wait, does this mean you chose already?"

His cheeks turn pink, eyes flickering everywhere but at you. You, who look like the living embodiment beauty of the forest. 

"No, no." he shakes his head, "He did say some names, but I-"

Your stomach drops. His does too. 

He clears his throat, "Doesn't matter. Um- I asked, because I heard some boys have taken interest in... you." his jaw clenches, voice going deeper. 

You furrow your eyebrows, "What? That's impossible."

"Nope. Heard it with my own ears." 

"Oh."

Yeah, oh. Neteyam thought. 

"Have you thought about anyone?" he say softly, eyes dropping all over your face. 

You meet his eyes, the air growing with the tension brewing around you both.

He's so beautiful. It should be illegal. 

By some gravitational force of nature, you both started to lean into each other, his eyes trailing all over your face until it stops at your lips. 

No.

This can't happen. 

Neteyam's face drops and your heart stops. 

Fuck, you said it out loud didn't you. 

He tenses his shoulders back and starts to stand up. 

"Wait— I didn't mean it like that." you plead, hands ghosting over his chest, blocking the way. 

"Then how else did you mean it?" his voice gruff, eyes fierce. This is a different Neteyam now. Warrior Neteyam. Guards up Neteyam. His ears turns downwards and your heart sinks. 

You sighed, "I just-"

The heavy atmosphere was broken by Lo'ak's voice, "Bro? Dad's calling. Family meeting." his head peaks into your place. Eyes flickering between you two, "Uh.. everything okay?"

Neteyam straightens his back, stepping beside as he makes his way out, "’m fine. Let's go."

You let out a deep breath as the flap shuts close.

His scent still lingers in the air, you can still feel the light touch on your hair. Your chest clenching at his absence.

You need to fix this.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The day after was awful.

You haven’t spoken to Neteyam since the incident and every time you see him, he disappears seconds after. 

“Lo!” the boy turns at the sound of his name, “Do you know where Neteyam is?”

Lo’ak shrugs and looks around, “He was just here a second ago.”

You nod. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.” you pat his shoulder.

He stops you, “Are you guys okay? He has been pissy all morning.”

Mouth opening and closing, you try to come up with an easy answer, “I— uh, have no idea.” 

Lo’ak wasn’t convinced in the slightest, “Sure.” you turned around, “It’s just that…”

You tilt your head and stare at him, urging him on, “What is it?”

“You know he really likes you, right?” 

Your give him a look, “No he doesn’t.”

The boy furrows his eyebrows, “Are you crazy? He’s obsessed with you.” 

“That’s a strong word.”

“It’s true.” he smiles. 

A cough takes your attention away, your body stiffens unconsciously. You know it’s him.

“There he is.” Lo’ak smiles, patting his brother on the back, “I’ll leave you to it.”

It was you two again. Amongst a sea of Na’vis. The night sky illuminates your skin in the most angelic way possible. The music and chatter of the other forest people blending in the background. 

Neteyam clears his throat, you turn your body to face him. He’s much closer than you anticipated, your head titling up to meet his eyes. 

“Hi.” you whisper.

“Hey.” 

“You have been avoiding me.”

He can’t deny it. It was true, he has.

“Sorry. I just had to clear my head.”

Your eyes soften, “I get it.”

An awkward silence blankets over you two. 

“So—“

“Did you—“

You both chuckle and the tense environment becomes familiar again. 

Nudging your head forward, “Can I go first?” you ask, nervously smiling up at him. 

He has to force himself not to pass out, “Yeah, of course.” anything you want. He thought.

You take a deep breath, “I didn’t mean that I don’t want us to happen, I do! Believe me—“

“You do?” his jaw drops, eyes glinting in the moonlight.

“Yeah, but I’m just scared. You can have any choice, anyone you want in this whole place—“

“Wait—“

“And I just feel like I’m not want you need, and I—“

“Hold on a second.” his warm hands cup the sides of your face, halting your rambling as your mouth forms a pout. A fond smile on his face, as his eyes trails all over your pretty face, “You want to mate?”

Your cheeks turn aflame, “I mean not now!”

He stutters, “Yeah, yeah. I wasn’t-“ he stops when you cover your mouth, trying to contain your chuckle, his chest swelling at the sight.

Your tail intertwines itself around his, as he stands closer, one hand still holding your face within his large palm, while the other hesitantly rests itself on your waist.

“Sevin,” he mutters, grazing his fingers across your hair, “You’re exactly what I need.”

Pushing his chest softly, you huff, “Flirt.” trying to stop your pounding heartbeat in your chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” he shyly smiles, “Do you want to dance?” eyes wrinkling with his ears twitching in excitement as he points to the building crowd.

“Come on.” you intertwine your fingers together, pulling him to the centre. He cannot stop smiling, his whole body buzzing with joy that he can't explain. 

His head was all just filled with you.

You and him.

Together.

Finally.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

but,neteyam hasn’t felt this way before, not this intense. he loses his otherwise nonchalant composure around you, becoming a teasing little… well, a little something else entirely.

following you around like a lost puppy, holding your basket for you, needing your help to ‘bond with his ilu’ (even though he tried first, he claims it’s your good luck), sitting next to you whenever he gets the chance. hell, he even makes bracelets with tuk if it means he can see that gorgeous smile when she gives it to you.

lo’ak notices.

“relax, bro. what happened to the mighty warrior, hm?” he teases when once again neteyam watches you swim in the ocean in a trance, only to be slapped on the head when he looks away.

“shut up, skxawng,” he huffs. but he knows it too, the way you infiltrate his mind and rewire him to become infatuated with you.

: ˚⋆✮

he was following you again. you felt it: the way he lingered, asking pointless questions as an excuse to stay near you. you had answered them happily… until he started to get increasingly annoying, forcing you to become more irate.

“you know, these shells aren’t as close to being as beautiful as you, tanhì,” he mentions while you gather them for their many uses. you hide the smile that appears, turning your back to him.

“neteyam.” You try to sound exhausted. “do you not have anything better to do than bother me?”

he clutches his chest in false offence. “ouch. you know you’re my favourite around here, yawne.”

the loving nickname makes your stomach flutter as you turn to meet his gaze. you previous irritation melts into something new, different. neteyam’s amber eyes stare deeply, intensely.

“don’t call me that if you don’t mean it,” you whisper.

“who said I don’t?” he replies coolly, reaching out with his warm, calloused hand to your waist.

his touch lights a fire against you, the attraction between you two evident in his heavy gaze. his eyes drop to your mouth, slightly agape. you can’t tell if you’re leaning in, if he is, or if some undeniable magnetic force is pulling you together.

“neteyam!” tuk cheers, her voice pulling you both out of your trance as she runs toward you.

he hesitates to look away from you before finally turning to the little girl now tugging at your hands.

“come! it is time for the bonfire!” she giggles, dragging you toward the main village.

“you promised to help me put those shells in my hair,” she whines, as you glance at neteyam, who mouths a quiet ‘go.’ you smile softly at him before following tuk eagerly.

: ˚⋆✮

“what were you and neteyam doing?” she questions, her directness a result of her childish nature.

“just… talking,” you shrug, trying to stay focused on braiding her hair.

“i’m done, tuk !” you exclaim, admiring your handiwork.

“doesn’t he talk a lot? he’s always talking about the forest, being a warrior, you,” she rambles before running off to the bonfire.

but you stay rooted. neteyam talks about you. the mere thought makes your heart clench.

: ˚⋆✮

“you look nice.” his voice rings behind you as neteyam approaches. the simple statement brings a smile to your face.

you turn, meeting his eyes again.

“could say the same for you,” you murmur, looking him up and down. his usual outfit is replaced by something more formal but just as flattering. he smiles brightly before slipping back into his playful teasing.

“well, i had someone to impress”

you take a deep breath as he stands next to you, before turning towards him and grabbing his hand.

“i am impressed, neteyam” you state, staring into his eyes. those beautiful, amber eyes.

and when you lead him further away from the crowd, he follows, like he always does.

“long day?” you question, threading your fingers through his braids. he doesn’t reply, nestling further into the crook of your neck.

taking his silence not as rejection but as exhaustion, you sigh softly, settling down on the plush grass, taking in the tranquility of your surroundings.the quiet hum of the nocturnal creatures and their bioluminescent hue painted the starry sky of pandora as neteyam adjusted his position to lie in your lap.

“the sky is beautiful tonight” you smile, admiring eywa’s creation as you carry on massaging his scalp, attempting to relieve his stress.

“mhm” he murmurs, but he’s not looking at the sky.

he’s looking at you.

 “you’re not looking at the heavens, ‘teyam.” you giggle, looking down onto his soft features illuminated by the night, smiling softly as he finds the comfort he had been craving when he sought you out.

“because i’d rather look at you, yawne.” the words leave his mouth effortlessly, like loving you is second nature to him. neteyam leans upwards, kissing your jaw, your cheeks, your forehead before trailing onto the corner of your mouth. taking this as instruction, you meet his lips halfway.

the kiss is gentle, soft. like he doesn’t want to hurt you, scared of losing the one thing in his life that doesn’t hold him to unobtainable expectations.

“you wanna go home?” you break apart, searching his face for an answer.

“if you come with me” neteyam replies, interlocking his fingers within yours as he helps you off the floor.

: ˚⋆✮

neteyam smiled as he let you onto his ikran, promising to be gentle and slow. you foolishly believed him, until he began swerving through the hallelujah mountains as you desperately gripped his waist.

when the both of you reached high camp, you immediately jumped off the ikran, refusing neteyam’s help.

“come on, yawntutsyìp, I was just having fun” he affectionately apologises when he notices your pout and refusal to talk to him “i’m sorry”

the sincerity of his apology softens your previous irritation as you give in, leaning upwards to kiss his cheek.

neteyam’s warm smile graces his features as he hovers his hand on your lower back, guiding you towards his family’s tent.

as soon as you two enter, tuk immediately serenades you.

“come see my new doll y/n!” she giggles, attempting to snatch you away from the boy next to you, who isn’t going to let you go so easily.

“nuh uh, tuk-tuk” he mirrors her childish tone “let her sit and eat first”

tuk reluctantly sighs, before attempting to compromise “then can she sit next to me? your always with her, it’s no fair!”

somewhere nearby lo’ak snickers before kiri slaps him on the head “skxawng” she mutters, coming up beside you as neteyam nods at tuk’s request.

walking towards the fire where dinner had been set, tuk tugs you down beside her as kiri slips in on your other side.

neteyam moves forward to sit beside tuk, as close to you as possible, only before lo’ak deliberately drops into the exact spot, sporting a grin far too satisfied with himself.

neteyam takes a deep breath, shooting lo’ak a warning look before resigning to a seat opposite you, as neytiri turns to you with an easy warmth, questioning you about your day.

neteyam notices how you blend into his family effortlessly, returning his siblings playful remarks and providing thoughtful insights to his father’s comments.

it feels so easy to you, like you’ve belonged here all along, with him.

when you glance up, he’s already looking.

his shoulders are much more relaxed than they were earlier, amber eyes soft as he admires you.

“I see you” he mouths

“I see you too” you mouth back.

: ˚⋆✮

when neteyam returns home after walking you back with a broad smile on his face  lo’ak smirks teasingly.

“whipped” he jokes

“skxawng” neteyam barks, slapping him on the back of his head.

but he doesn’t deny it.

because you’re all he’s ever wanted.

"Why don't you go play with the girls, this is a boy talk." Theo sasses ironically.

You let out a small grunt, standing up and dusting the sand off of the back of your thighs. "So immature." you trailed off under your breath, leaving the sandpit.

Theo could only furrow his brows in confusion of what language you could've just spoken, though Mike wanted to follow after you, eager to learn the meaning of 'immature'. Was he immature? Was it a good thing? Though before Theo could open his gob to argue with Mike again, said boy had interrupted him "Shut up Theo!" with his eyes and feet following after you.

After following you and begging you to tell him the meaning of the word, he never left your side. Not when Will Byers had asked him to be his friend, not when Lucas and Dustin had slivered their way into your group.

The party were sat on a park bench at the very back of Hawkins Highschool. Robin had sent another message out for the crawl which you had to decipher, and Dustin had been shoved into a locker again for wearing his hellfire shirt. They were arguing, I mean when weren't they, but this time it seemed to just go straight into your brain.

It was majorly Mike and Dustin going back and forth, and no matter how much you loved your dear boyfriend - he didn't need to be such a dictator at times.

"Mike." You groaned and spoke up, lifting your head from where it had been in your hands.

He perked up at the sound of your voice, though his brows furrowed again as he settled back into being mid-argument. "What?" he asked.

"Could you stop being such a dick and let Dustin wear what he wants?" a sigh escapes your lips.

His brows furrowed, Dustin letting out a snicker. "Well, it's different since he's getting his ass beat everyday because of it!" he argued back to you, causing you to raise your own brow.

"Oh really Sherlock!" you gasped with fake enthusiasm "Thanks for pointing that out Mikey, drop the fucking case." Dustin could only laugh at you going against Mike, though Mikes face said it all. Furrowed brows disappearing as he watched you sling your backpack over your shoulders.

"Where are you going?" he asked, standing from the bench as you did.

"Away. I don't want to be involved in a stupid argument." you muttered, giving him a glance.

Mike let out a soft sigh, walking after you and taking your bicep in his hand. "Don't go. Dustin can wear what he wants, you're right."

Said boy let out the biggest gasp ever, pointing towards the Wheeler boy like he was a traitor. "Ah! You little- So you agree all because of her?"

"Pfft, I always agreed! I was just slightly concerned—" Mike waved off, slumping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close whilst walking back to the bench. Dustin stuttered on his words, looking at Lucas in pure disbelief at the matter. "Just drop the argument Dustin." Mike continued, shaking his head and replicating the image of a mother tired of listening to her kids arguing.

You let out a soft smirk, watching him as he sat beside you like nothing had just happened, dropping the argument before it could start between the both of you - for you.

The rest of the party all let out a sigh and shake of their heads, mind getting back into preparing for the crawl later on tonight - though it was evident Lucas was still stuck on the event. “You’re supposed to be Mike! Mike is stubborn! She’s really got you soft, dude.”

Mike shook his head, fingers toying with the end of the paper map that had been rolled out across the bench. “No. I don’t argue with her ‘cus shes too pretty, I’d never win.”

Dustin and Will both let out gagging sounds, giving you time to embrace the pink tint that spread across your face quickly. Though you guessed he wasn’t the only soft one in the relationship, after all you had allowed him to bribe you into not leaving. Not that you would be anytime soon.

The party called him stupid for it, his schoolgirl crush on you, but he knew there was more to it when you sternly told Andy to stop when he was picking on him, Dustin or Will - as he often steered clear of Lucas. He knew those glances at the party that lasted too long meant something. Though you never spoke to them, instead you stuck with your people.

Hawkins seemed to be that way, everyone had their clique and it stuck that way. Like the fate was drawn out already. If anyone stepped out of their boundary, well it would be weird, that's why it hadn't happened. Lucas had tried, he was excellent on the basketball team though quickly got shoved back into his DND party, it was like the world didn't want anybody ruining its painting.

It was the same as everyday, Will and Mike surrounding Dustin as he organised his locker to maintain his raging emotions. At the weekend, Dustin had bought an antenna or something that he deemed would be beneficial to help their crawls - only for Andy and his goons to spot him, not only shoving Dustin into an alley to cut his hands as he braced his fall, but also stomping repeatedly on the antenna.

You weren't at the scene, you hadn't known what had happened - though you had heard Andy laughing over something when you arrived at school. You knew it wasn't good, not with the glare Dustin had sent your group over passing period.

Now you were following after Andy and Chance as they hawked down on Dustin and his friends, a large exhale left your lips - ready to step in.

"Whats up, Henderson? I thought we told you to get rid of that shirt." He quipped, nodding at the boy like they were friends though the menacing grin said otherwise.

The Henderson boy turned around, tired of this occurrence. Before he could quip something smart back which would get his ass beat, you interrupted. "Andy! Would you leave them alone? What did they ever do to you?" you slid in front of Dustin, eyebrows pinched together as you stood up to Andy who wore a surprised look.

"What's it matter to you, sunshine?" he tested, eye twitching. "His friend killed Chrissy! But he got what he deserved, didn't he Henderson."

Before Dustin could pounce at Andy, you did yourself. Shoving him back and silently thanking volleyball for giving you strength. "Leave them alone." you said sternly. Andy and Chance shared a look before walking off down the halls, leaving you to turn back to Dustin. "Are you alright? I'm really sorry about them." you hushed, brows pinched now in concern and guilt.

Dustin huffed, closing his locker and responding to you. Mike tuned it out though, eyes set on you and your precious concern for him and his friends, how you went against the fate that had been drawn out for you.

Though too soon you left, wishing the boys well and went off with a cheer girl who had been waiting on you with a judging glance. Mikes mind was hazy the rest of the day, maybe the conversation wasn't with him but it sure was close enough.

He thought about it at dinner, your smile, your kind words, the way you had so willingly stood up for his friend. The entirety of Hawkins thought Eddie was a murder, so you were bound to as well - you didn't know the full story yet you still defended Dustin like there was no tomorrow.

Walking to english class the day after, the only class he had on his own, his mind was still on you. He'd seen Chance and Andy giving you angry words that morning, he'd overheard the excuse you gave of not wanting them to waste their time - though Mike knew it wasn't that, especially as you fell into step beside him.

"Mike?" you started, staring up at the boy who'd grown increasingly taller since a few summers ago. He looked down at you, eyes widening in slight shock.

"Oh! H-Hey, y/n... I, uh, Hello?" he stuttered, his pitch making his greeting sound more like a question than he had meant - though it only produced a soft laugh from you which made him feel like a dog when its favourite toy squeaked.

Knocking his arm on accident, you adjusting your grip on your bag straps. "I was wondering if Dustin had told you what Andy did last weekend?" your question was soft, eyes still on him and not the people passing in the halls that gave you strange looks for talking to frog-face-wheeler.

He found himself instinctively placing a hand on your shoulder to guide you, not wanting you to be nudged or shoved as you weren't paying attention. "Well, Dustin had bought an antenna for... a project he's working on, and Andy broke it."

Looking down at the ground, not noticing yourself that Mike had a slightly shaky hand on your shoulder. "Would..." you start, hesitating on your words, though once you glance up again and see Mike has your attention you go with it. "Would you take me to the store so I can replace it for him? I'm not too into all that stuff and I wouldn't want to get him the wrong thing and make it worse—!"

"Yes!" Mike said immediately, cutting your ramble off, though he realised it was too enthusiastic, Steves' girl advice running through his mind. "I mean, sure. When?"

With a small hum in thought, you propose after school today. He agreed and said he'd wait outside for you on his bike. And he did, very impatiently, his fingers rattling against the handle bars as he stared at the door which filtered students out of, the amount lessening and lessening with yet a sign of you.

He slumped in his bike seat, rubbing his eyes. You'd stood him up and lied about a good deed, but surely not. You were kinder than that, Mike... he didn't know but he assumed. He'd know from watching you all the time in class and at lunch.

Though with soft exhales, he broke from his thoughts and watched you skip out the doors. "I'm so sorry Mikey! I had to talk to my coach and make sure I could do some stuff tomorrow, I didn't mean to leave you waiting." you apologise repeatedly, though Mike waved it off, his thoughts stuck on the nickname that had slipped from your lips.

Mikey.

He helped you onto the back of his bike, your arms wrapping around his waist to keep yourself secure. The wind grazed your face as he cycled to the town causing pink to flush on your skin as you tightened your grip.

Maybe it was just the proximity, but as you rested your forehead against the back of Mikes jacket to hide yourself from the wind, you couldn't help the butterflies that erupted in your stomach. There was just... something about him.

He wasn't trying too hard, his emotions were on show even if he tried to swallow his nerves down. He was everything that you wanted to be. You didn't want to be in the friend group you were in, you didn't enjoy the two faced cheerleaders or jocks who thought they were too good to hear no. You never enjoyed having to hide your nerdy posted if a friend cane round, you wanted to be your true self - which Mike was.

Not to mention, he was really damn cute.

Mike steered onto the pathway, giving your hand a soft tap to signal you can get off the bike. He kicked the stand up and lead you into the electronics and hardware store. The bell rung above the two of you, "Thank you for bringing me, i'm sorry if it's an inconvenience."

The boy waved you off once again, moving through the isles and gazing at the shelving units to spot the antenna. He picked one up and showed it to you. "Heres the one."

You smiled, taking it into hand and looking at the price before digging into your pockets. "What project even needs something like this?" you mumbled, taking a crumpled note and few coins out of your pocket before wondering off to the cashier. Mike followed after you, smiling politely at the cashier and watching you pay - declining his help.

Mike wasn't sure how it happened, or whether he had just started daydreaming about it, though he had you against an alley wall with his lips on yours. His hands greedily roamed you, who was to blame him, he’d dreamt about it and thought about it in class - of course he’d take advantage of his opportunity.

Your hands were in his hair, gently tugging at his soft curls to not hurt him. Your noses nudged together as you kissed, close to swallowing each other at some point. He pulled back just slightly, pulling your bottom lip with his teeth as he did.

A grin graced your face, faces still inches apart and eyes darting to each others with a simultaneous soft laugh. “I didn’t know Mike Wheeler had that in him.” you tease, moving your hands down to his shoulders.

“Well, I- me neither.” he laughed somewhat awkwardly, biting his lip as he admired your pretty face. He wasn’t dreaming. He had really somehow managed to kiss you. “You’re really pretty.” he gawked, words quiet though clear within the close proximity the two of you held.

Pressing another soft peck to his lips, you smiled. “You’re really cute.” you returned, laughing as he dove back into another passionate kiss.

The next day you had gifted Dustin his new antenna - which he thanked you over and over for and even pulled you into a hug which he hadn’t thought through, especially with Andys distant glare from across the hall. But the boys had noticed a hickey (more like a few hickeys) on Mikes neck as he cycled into school that morning, and hadn’t recieved any answers to their questions apart from his pale cheeks turning red.

Though as Dustin thanked you, his gaze dropped to your neck where a fresh looking bite of love sat with a thin layer of makeup over it. His jaw slacked, whipping his head round to Mike who had his eyes on you as you rambled to Dustin about god knows what. Whatever it was, you looked perfect doing it.

For the first time in years, the Hawkins Middle School baseball team had won the county championship game, something Steve had managed to drive the team to accomplish in his first season as coach. So to say the man was over the moon was an understatement.

After watching from the bleachers, cheering the entire time, you listened fondly to Steve gloat the whole drive home about “his boys.” 

You had to admit, Steve was truly in his element in his new career. Once the battle that had consumed so many years of your lives had finally been won eighteen months ago, you and Steve struggled a bit to find your footing. Robin ultimately decided to move to Massachusetts for school, as did Nancy, and Jonathan landed in the Big Apple. With the rest of the older teens (well, now you were all in your twenties) deciding to leave Hawkins in the months after the town began getting back on its feet, you and Steve felt like you were at a crossroads. 

The two of you had always talked about your future, and you had ever since you had begun dating back in ‘85, but with the monsters and the Upside Down, the plans always seemed like a far-off fantasy. You had known you wanted to stay in Hawkins until your brother, Dustin, had finished high school. You wanted to stay back and be there for him until he left the nest for himself. So, Steve took a job at the middle school as the baseball coach, under the condition that he was also to be the health and sex education teacher, and you got a job at the library once it was rebuilt. 

Somewhere along the way, you and Steve settled into your new little life in the new Hawkins. The two of you had moved into a small apartment, and with Steve’s first paycheck from the school, he bought a small diamond ring and proposed. The two of you had had a small backyard wedding at your mom's house, with only your close friends, whom you might as well consider family after all you went through together. More and more, you and Steve settled in, and the topic of leaving Hawkins, one you were once so adamant about, stopped coming up as much.

You combed over your reflection once more. Your face had gotten the life and color that was once lost back to it, your hair was longer, and you looked happier. You smile to yourself, smoothing a hand down your dress, eyes locked on the diamond ring on your finger that glimmered softly in the light as your hands stopped on your belly. 

You were so lost in thought that you failed to hear the shower shut off, and your husband entering the bedroom. His towel was secured around his waist, and his hair, still damp, dripped occasionally onto the floor. You didn’t notice until his hands snaked around your waist and his chin propped up on your shoulder, his aftershave hitting your nose pleasantly. 

“You look beautiful,” Steve says softly, his hands inching to rest on your belly. “You definitely have that glow all the magazines talk about, but if you ask me, you always glow. Not just when you're pregnant.” You roll your eyes as a smile creeps onto your face.

“I’m not sure how much of my glow is from being pregnant. I’m barely two months.” Steve nuzzles his face into your neck, planting a kiss there. “Doesn’t matter, still glowing.” He murmurs, then shakes his head, sending little droplets of water flying.

You let out a yelp and pull away from him. “You’re getting me wet, Steve!” You regret the words as soon as you see the smirk spread across his face. “Don’t I always?” You roll your eyes and shove his chest lightly. “Go get dressed, Harrington. If we’re late, Dustin’ll kill us.”

-

You were, in fact, not late. You spot your mother and Robin on the bleachers, saving the two spots in between them. You grin widely when you spot your best friend and all but drag Steve to walk faster as he mumbles about not knowing if he locked the truck. Robin spots the two of you and jumps up, meeting you with her arms open. 

“There’s my favorite married couple!” She says as she pulls you into a tight hug. “In the flesh!” You say, muffled by her shoulder. She pulls back before throwing her arms around Steve. You slide in next to your mother, who is already crying, then Steve and Robin slide in after you. You huddle together, catching up amongst yourselves as you wait for the ceremony to start. You compliment Robin on her final surprise Rockin’ Robin segment she was allowed to host on the Squawk that morning, and Steve fills her in on the baseball team.

The ceremony was surprisingly short, thanks to Dustin’s crazy anti-system speech ending with a tribute to Hellfire. You had to admit, you were suspicious when your brother did not once share any of the speech he had been working on since finding out he was named valedictorian; he kept his element of surprise up to the very end. And, well, you expected nothing less from your little brother.

-

After an excessive amount of pictures, and you and Steve promising to meet Dustin and your mother for dinner later, you, Steve, and Robin climbed into Steve’s blue and white pickup truck and drove out to the edge of town. Down a dirt road and up a hill, you hadn’t driven in over a year. 

When the WSQK building came into view, Nancy and Jonathan’s cars were already parked. The three of you hopped out of the truck, and while Steve hauled an ice chest out of the back, you and Robin made your way over to the two figures that stood next to the building. Hugs and greetings were exchanged before the five of you made your way into the building and to the stairs that led to the roof. 

You sat up there and caught up while Steve passed around beers, and Diet Coke for you, from the cooler. Everyone gave life updates: Jonathan about NYU and the anti-capitalist film he was working on, Robin and her classes at Smith College, and Nancy about how she had dropped out of Emerson and took a position at one of the Boston newspapers. They talked about their lives away from Hawkins, and the subject turned to you and Steve. Now that Dustin had graduated and was going to be moving hours away for college, nothing was tying you down to Hawkins. Nothing but your jobs and the life that you had slowly begun to build. 

“I mean, come on, look at this view? What could be better than this? Plus, you know prices are still insanely low. We’ve been looking at a couple of houses, almost saved up enough for a mortgage.” Steve says as he sips his beer, retreating from the edge of the roof back over to the group. Nancy’s eyes widen as she smiles in your direction. “A house in Hawkins? Sounds permanent.” You smile and shrug. 

“I don’t know. It’s different. The vibes are different from what they were before hell broke loose. It's quite nice here. Don’t get me wrong, the memories of everything, they’re still here. But Steve and I have managed to start a nice little life. So yeah, maybe semi-permanent. We’ll go wherever the wind takes us, but for now it’s Hawkins.” Steve smiles at your words as he takes a seat next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, his hand briefly rubbing a circle onto your belly before settling on your hip. Robin, who had been watching you with a fond expression, pauses and blinks like a switch was flipped in her head. 

“Hey, how come you haven’t had a drink?” Your gaze snaps up to her, and she is staring at you with a raised brow. You glance down at the Coke can in your hand, beads of condensation pooling at your fingers. “Huh? Oh, I’m just… trying to quit.” You reply, unconvincingly. Jonathan snorts from his place next to Nancy. “Did you become an alcoholic since we all left?”

Steve glances down at you, fighting the smile that is threatening his lips as he stares at you with puppy dog eyes. You stare into his pleading hazel eyes for a moment before sighing and nodding. The other three are staring at you, confused, waiting for an explanation. Steve gleefully looks up and says with the biggest grin you’d ever seen. 

“We’re having a baby.”

Chaos erupts on the rooftop. Robin is squealing, Nancy is gasping, and both girls are pulling you into a hug. Jonathan is the calmest, laughing softly as he pats Steve on the back and gives him a soft congratulations. You fill them in on everything you know so far, which, albeit, isn’t much. Just that you’re two months and it's one healthy bean-sized Harrington. 

“The house makes a lot of sense now,” Nancy says, hiding her grin behind her red solo cup. “So is this the first of six nuggets?” Jonathan asks teasingly, and Steve rolls his eyes, looking down at you. “We’ve compromised for four.” 

“He has a job, my angel.” Steve wasn’t at work, and you knew that he was planning on spending the night at home. But you hoped he was sleeping or doing something he actually enjoyed. He’d been so busy with work and wrangling your adopted children lately, you didn’t want to disturb him. “And other friends.” 

“If you call him, he will come.” El says it so bluntly, it makes your heart stutter. She’s so sure of it.

“And it’s crazy you think he’d rather do anything else.” Max rolled her eyes. “He’s obsessed with you.” 

You could feel the heat rushing to your face. You grabbed the phone, pulling the cord tight over the back of the couch. “Wanna order pizza?” 

“They called you when they were supposed to be ordering the pizza, didn’t they?” 

“Yep,” Steve said, popping the ‘p’ and not even bothering to hide his grin. He slipped past you, pausing only to push a firm kiss to your cheek. 

“I told them to leave you alone!” your swirled around, eyebrows raised and hands firmly planted on your hips. El and Max at least had the decency to look somewhat chastised. “You’re supposed to be relaxing!” 

“Spending time with my girls is relaxing.” 

Okay, there was no way you could complain after that. El and Max scampered off the couch, following Steve into your kitchen where he had dumped the bags.

“Okay, strawberry for El,” he said, mostly to himself. “And vanilla for Max.” He pulled out one more pint, in your favorite flavor. 

You shouldn’t be surprised that he had gone overboard. Three pints of ice cream, and all the toppings that you could dream of were already littered across the counter. And there were several bags to go. 

“Stevie, this is too much.” You insisted, crossing your arms. God, was he pouting? 

“You never let me spoil you!” 

“The number one rule of having a boyfriend is that you have to let him spoil you.” Max said, the words muddled around the half bar of chocolate that she had managed in one bite. El nodded emphatically, rifling through one of the bags and pulling out a box of Eggos. 

Steve’s eyes were wide as he gestured in agreement. “See? They get it.” Steve rummaged through your drawers, finding an ice cream scoop easily, like he’d done it a million times. 

You reached for the cabinet with the bowls, but Steve’s hand snatched yours out of the air. “Baby, go sit down. We’ll make you a sundae, right girls?” Steve’s eyes were wide and pleading, and he knew he’d already won. 

You nodded, reveling in the kiss he placed on the back of your hand, squeezing a few times before letting it drop. You stumbled back into the living room, plopping on the couch and letting the sounds of Steve arguing good naturedly with the girls wash over you. 

A few hours later, and you’d all eaten through half of the ice cream, cried through the ending of E.T. and someone avoided getting reprimanded for the way that you and Steve were tangled on the couch together. He had one of your hands between both of his on his chest, gently playing with your hand and lightly kissing your fingerprints at irregular intervals. 

You hadn’t planned on the girls staying over, but they’d fallen asleep before the trailers had finished on the second VHS. You’d cleared it with Hop and Mrs. Mayfield before Steve had carefully carted them both into your parent’s guest room. 

The two of you were snuggled on the couch together, a movie playing softly in the background, though neither of you were paying it all that much attention. Steve was warm and the blanket he’d pulled off the back of the couch was soft against your skin. His chin was tucked on top of your head while he pulled you tight against his chest. 

“Think you could get used to this, honey?” 

“Used to what?” 

“All of it.” You caught his gaze wandering around the room, taking in the aftermath of a successful night with your girls. Used cotton rounds scattered across the coffee table, a half finished bowl of popcorn and seemingly every blanket in a five mile radius piled up on the rug. 

Your heart twisted, because you knew exactly what he meant. You reached for one of his hands, carefully testing to make sure the bright pink polish had dried before threading your fingers together. You weren’t surprised at how easily he’d gone along with their request to paint his nails, and you weren’t surprised at the butterflies it’d set off in your stomach. 

Steve didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “Wanna come home to this every day.” 

“Didn’t think you were in the market for more roommates.” you laughed, softly. 

Steve rolled his eyes, but the hearts in them were more obvious than ever. “Kind of rude to call our future kids roommates, if you ask me. I imagined them looking a lot more like you than those two do, anyways.” 

“Stevie,” you grumbled, hiding your face in his chest. You felt him smile against the top of your head. Flustering you was one of his favorite pastimes. 

“I’m serious, baby. Know you’d be the best mom,” he sighed, “Too sweet not to be.” 

You chanced a peek up at him, and the sight took your breath away. His eyes were shut, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips and a little blush dusting over his cheekbones, tinting his freckles pink. 

It wasn’t the first time the two of you had talked about this. It was always like this, hushed wishes and warm words. You’d get lost thinking about Steve cuddling a tiny baby, probably born with a full head of hair if his genes had anything to say about it. You couldn’t help but think he’d thrive as a dad. How easily he’d fall into the rhythm of school pick up and soccer practice. And you wanted him to have all of it. 

You sat up, forcing him to open his eyes at the loss of contact. He leaned forward, instinctively chasing you. “Are you sure it’s gotta be six, Stevie?” You asked meekly. 

“I’ll take as many as you want to give me, honey. One? twenty? Doesn’t matter. Whatever makes you happy.” His eyes went soft.

“Stevie, you give in too easily!” you laughed, swatting at his chest. He caught your hand, placing exaggerated kisses up the length of your arm. 

He’d reached your face, settling kisses easily across your cheeks and the tip of your nose. “Wrong.” he mumbled, too focused on his new mission. 

“Wrong?!” you hissed, careful not to yell and wake up the girls. 

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, the vibration tickling your neck. “It’s not giving in if I want my girl happy and healthy.” 

“Thought you wanted enough Harringtons to stock a basketball team?” 

“Priorities changed.” 

You grinned, leaning your forehead against his. “Don’t deserve you.” 

You felt Steve sigh, pulling you tight against him. “Good news. You don’t have to earn me.” You were sure he could feel your heart stutter through your pajama top. “Besides, you're dead wrong about that. I’m way out of my league, here angel.” You were readying your rebuff, when his thumb found your cheek. “Just let me have this one, baby. You’re out of nail polish remover and Robin isn’t gonna let me hear the end of it when I show up with my manicure tomorrow.”

“Fine, we’ll have however many hypothetical children I want.” 

“Perfect.” he whispered, in a tone that you know he meant more than just letting you win the argument. 

The car skids to a stop in front of the cabin, gravel kicking up beneath the tires. You barely remember the drive, just the chaos of it, Eric bleeding out in the backseat, Mark cursing, Lucas shouting directions. Your hands shake as you kill the engine. The silence that follows is suffocating.

Lucas is out of the car first, throwing the passenger door open and grabbing Eric’s legs. Mark moves fast too, hauling Eric up with an arm around his back. His body is limp between them, his head rolling, blood soaking through his clothes.

“Get the door,” Mark barks at you.

Your legs barely hold you, but you force yourself out of the car and stagger up the steps. The cabin is dark and cold when you shove the door open. No time for lights, no time for anything. Mark and Lucas barrelling past you, carrying Eric inside.

The table in the middle of the room, sturdy, solid wood becomes an operating table. Eric’s body slams onto it, knocking over bottles and an ashtray, but no one cares. His head lolls to the side, eyes barely open.

“Fuck,” Mark grits out, pressing his fingers against Eric’s throat. He exhales. “He’s still got a pulse.”

Lucas is already moving, tearing open drawers, pulling out a med kit. It’s not their first time doing this, not even close. They don’t panic, don’t hesitate. They’ve stitched each other up more times than they can count, learned how to do this because they had to. Hospitals were never an option.

Mark grips Eric’s shirt and rips it open, exposing the wound. “Bullet’s still in there.” His jaw clenches. “We need to get it out.”

Eric groans, his body twitching in pain, but he’s too weak to fight. You take a step closer, but Mark shoots you a look. “Stay back. Let us handle this.”

Your stomach churns, but you nod, fingers curling into fists.

Lucas dumps supplies onto the table. Scissors, gauze, forceps, stitching thread. “We need to stop the bleeding first,” he mutters, already working. His hands move fast, steady, pressing gauze against the wound. Eric makes a broken sound in his throat, his body seizing up.

Mark leans over him, voice low. “Stay with us, man.”

Eric’s lips barely move, but there’s a ghost of that fucking smirk. “You’re… so dramatic…”

Mark exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Shut the fuck up.”

They work quickly, precision in every movement. The bullet has to come out first. Lucas digs in with the forceps, and Eric jerks violently, a strangled groan tearing from his throat. Mark holds him down, pressing hard against his shoulders.

Your nails bite into your palms. You can’t breathe. You can’t watch. But you can’t look away either.

Then—footsteps. Heavy. Fast.

The door bursts open, and four men stagger inside, breathing hard like they ran the whole way. Blood spatters their clothes. Their faces are grim.

Mark barely looks up. “What?”

One of them swallows hard. “They’re dead, all of our men, we are the only ones alive.” His voice is tight, raw. “Victor’s coming. He’s bringing his men.”

A silence heavier than anything settles over the room.

Lucas exhales, wiping blood from his hands. “How long?”

“Not long.”

Mark glances down at Eric. Still half-conscious, barely holding on. Then back at them. His expression hardens.

“Then we don’t have much time. Lucas, finish stitching him up. We don’t have time to be gentle.”

Lucas is already ahead of him, threading the needle with steady hands. The bleeding has slowed, but Eric is still losing too much. His body twitches under their grip, a broken groan slipping from his lips when the needle pierces his skin.

“Hold him down,” Lucas mutters.

“You still with us, man?” Mark says, not looking up.

Eric exhales a weak laugh, the sound rough. “Wouldn’t want… you crying over me.”

Mark grits his teeth, stopping himself for saying something.

Another  sharp groan rips through Eric’s throat, but this time, when his head rolls to the side, his gaze lands on you. His pupils are blown, his expression hazy from blood loss, but something dark flickers behind his eyes.

“You… look so fucking scared,” he murmurs, voice slurred. 

“You okay?” His voice is barely above a whisper, hoarse and uneven. “You’re… not hurt, right?”

You stare at him, stunned. Out of everything happening, out  of the blood staining his clothes, the bullets that nearly tore through him, the fact that he’s barely holding on. He’s orried about you?

“I—” Your throat is too tight to speak.

Eric exhales shakily, his eyes drifting shut for a moment before he forces them open again. “Did good… getting us out.” His gaze is still on you, though it’s unfocused, distant. “Fuck,” he mutters, blinking slowly. “Victor’s not done. He’ll keep coming.” His brows draw together in a sluggish frown, his fingers twitching like he’s trying to move but can’t. “You shouldn’t… be here.”

Something twists in your stomach. “And where exactly should I be, Eric?” you ask, voice quieter than you mean it to be.

His breath shudders. “Somewhere safe.”

His words shouldn’t affect you. Not now, not when there are more important things to worry about but they do. Because Eric is the last person who should be thinking about your safety. And yet, even in his half-conscious state, he is.

Lucas pulls the thread tight, sealing the wound, and Eric’s entire body tenses. His teeth clench, a strangled groan ripping from his throat before he slumps back against the table.

“That’s it,” Lucas mutters. “It’s done.”

After awhile the bleeding had finally stopped. The stitching was done. The room still smelled of blood and sweat, but at least Eric was breathing steady now. He sat on the edge of the table, shoulders slumped, a dark stain of dried blood covering most of his torso. His face was pale, exhausted, but his eyes were sharp again.

Mark handed him a bottle of whiskey. “Here. Take the edge off.”

Eric took it without a word, bringing it to his lips. The burn must’ve been brutal, but he didn’t flinch. His hands, still shaky, tightened around the glass. He let out a slow breath and then, like it was nothing, pushed himself up to stand.

You straightened immediately. “Eric—”

“I’m fine.” His voice was rough, but steady. His stance wasn’t perfect, he was still weak, his balance slightly off. But he was standing. He rolled his shoulders, testing his body like a predator assessing its own wounds. “We got time before they come.”

Mark watched him closely. “Not much.”

Silence settled over the room, thick and heavy. Everyone knew what was coming.

Lucas loaded a fresh magazine into his gun. “We need to set up.”

Eric nodded, already scanning the room like he was planning every move before it happened. The weakness in his body was clear, but something else burned in his expression now. Focus, calculation, something cold and unshakable. He reached for a gun, testing its weight in his palm.

Your stomach twisted. He shouldn’t be up. He shouldn’t be moving like this after what he just went through.

But Eric wasn’t normal. He never was.

The adrenaline was kicking in. And by the time Victor arrived, Eric would be ready.

The cabin turned into a battlefield before the fight had even begun.

Mark and Lucas secured the doors and windows, setting up barriers where they could. The men who had arrived earlier spread out, positioning themselves strategically. Guns were checked, loaded, and set within reach. The air was thick with tension, everyone moving with the quiet urgency of men who had done this before.

Eric sat on a wooden chair near the window, gun resting on his thigh, eyes locked on the dark woods outside. His shirt was still off, his bandaged wound stark against his skin, but he barely seemed to notice the pain anymore. The only sign of strain was the occasional clench of his jaw.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice. “Eric…”

His gaze flicked to you, just for a second. Then he exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. Without a word, he reached for you, his fingers curling around the back of your neck as he pulled you closer. His lips pressed against your forehead, brief, warm, and grounding.

“I know,” he muttered against your skin. “I know.”

Then he pulled away, his touch lingering for just a second longer before his attention snapped back to the dark woods outside.

You didn’t say anything else. What was there to say? You couldn’t stop what was coming.

Outside, the wind howled through the trees.

Then, in the distance, headlights.

“Shit,” Lucas hissed.

Eric straightened, fingers tightening around his gun. “They’re here.”

The sound of tires crunching against gravel grew louder. Shadows moved between the trees. The cabin, dark and hidden, felt like a powder keg seconds from igniting.

Eric rolled his shoulders, then turned to you. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something raw. “Stay close.”

Then, before you could respond, the first gunshot rang out.

Gunfire ripped through the air, echoing inside the cabin like rolling thunder. The scent of blood, sweat, and gunpowder thickened the air once again, turning it into something suffocating. Shadows moved in flashes. Men ducking for cover, glass shattering, bullets punching through wood and furniture.

Eric barely felt the pain anymore. Adrenaline burned through him like gasoline-fed fire, keeping him sharp, fast. He took cover behind the overturned table, reloading his gun with a swift, practiced motion. Across the room, Mark and Lucas were holding their ground, firing back at Victor’s men, but they were outnumbered.

A sudden movement caught Eric’s eye. Victor, slipping through the chaos, heading upstairs.

Eric’s voice was a command, low and insistent. “Go. Hide.”

There was no hesitation in his words. No time for fear. You barely had a moment to nod before Eric shoved you toward the bathroom, his hand firm on your back. You ran, feeling the weight of the situation in every heartbeat. The door slammed shut behind you, your breath coming in frantic gasps as you pressed your back against the cold tiles.

Behind you, the footsteps were loud, unmistakable.

Victor.

He knew.

You heard him before you saw him. Victor’s mocking voice cutting through the silence. “Well, well, well. Didn’t expect the pretty girl to make it this far.”

The door flew open with a violent crash.

Eric didn’t think. He moved.

Pushing himself up, he cut through the firefight, dodging bullets with near-inhuman instinct. He burst through the narrow hallway, following Victor into the bathroom.

He charged in, fury burning in his eyes, but Victor was ready. A clash of bodies, the sounds of fists pounding against flesh, grunts of pain and effort, and the sickening crack of bone. They were like two animals in a cage, brutal, savage, nothing held back.

Eric slammed Victor against the sink, the mirror shattering into pieces. But Victor wasn’t done. He drove a knee into Eric’s stomach, and Eric grunted, stumbling back. They grappled, their bodies twisting, a tangle of rage and desperation.

“Fucking die already,” Victor spat, but Eric fought back, shaking off the daze. Blood dripped from his face, but his eyes burned with fury.

“Fucker,” Eric spat

And before Victor could get a shot off, Eric was on him again, slamming his knee into Victor’s stomach. The force knocked the wind out of him, and the gun went flying.

In the chaos, both men struggled to their feet, blood spilling onto the floor.

Then, Victor managed to get a hand on his weapon, his finger tightening around the trigger—

But Eric was faster.

With a guttural roar, Eric shoved the knife that he found on the counter deeper into Victor’s neck. Victor’s eyes locked onto his, but there was nothing left in them, just pure hate.

In that final moment, Victor pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, and Eric’s body jerked violently.

The bullet tore through his chest, the same place where he had been shot before, and he collapsed backward, his body crashing to the ground like a ragdoll.

Victor didn’t move. His body slumped into the bathtub, lifeless.

Eric stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping from his fingers and from his bandage. His grip on the knife loosened. His body swayed.

And then—

He dropped.

Your body moved before you could even think.

You rushed to Eric, cradling his head in your lap. His blood was warm, sticky on your hands, but you didn’t care. You needed him. He was still breathing. Barely.

“Eric,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

You choked back a sob, your hands shaking as you tried to stop the bleeding.

“No, no, no,” you whispered over and over. “You’re not dying. You can’t. I won’t let you.”

Eric’s hand reached up, weak but steadying. His fingers grazed your cheek, wiping away a tear that fell without your permission. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice thick. “Didn’t mean for you to get caught up in this. But damn… I never thought you’d care for a guy like me.”

“You’re everything to me,” you said, your voice breaking. “Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me.”

“Eric—” Your hands pressed against his wound, trying to stop the bleeding. His blood was warm, soaking through your fingers, spreading across your skin. “Stay with me.”

His breath stuttered. His grip tightened for a second, then went slack.

Panic gripped your chest. “No. No, stay awake.” Your hands cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. “Please. I—I love you.”

His eyes flickered, his gaze locking onto yours.

Something shifted in them. Something soft.

Eric’s lips parted, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, wanting to say something.

And then his hand went limp.

The life drained from his eyes, his chest stuttering before it stilled.

You screamed, the world around you falling into an abyss of darkness and blood.

You’re trembling, your body shaking uncontrollably, and your eyes refuse to focus on anything but Eric, lying there, still, broken, in your arms.

Then, the door slams open.

Mark stands there, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene. The look on his face mirrors what you already know: the horror, the disbelief, the overwhelming weight of the situation. His gaze flicks from you to Eric, and his face contorts in shock. He takes a step forward, his voice shaky but determined.

“We need to get him to a hospital. Now,” he says, though the urgency in his voice doesn’t match the frozen look on his face.

You can’t answer him. You can’t even bring yourself to speak. It feels like the world is ending, like everything is slipping away, and you’re helpless to stop it.

Mark doesn’t wait for you to respond. He moves quickly, his voice a bit more authoritative now. “I’ll get Lucas. We need to act fast. Stay with him, stay calm.” He turns and rushes out of the bathroom.

Your hands are shaking, and you don’t know what to do. It’s as if you’ve forgotten everything. What were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to help him?

A few minutes later, Mark returns with Lucas, both of them looking just as frantic as you feel. Another man follows them, his face grim and set, eyes scanning the room with the same urgency. Lucas kneels beside you, his hands shaking slightly as he places a hand on Eric’s chest, feeling for a heartbeat. There’s a pause, and then he exhales, as if he’s been holding his breath. “He’s still alive. Barely. We need to move him, now.”

Mark nods, quickly crouching down and helping Lucas carefully lift Eric’s body. The other man, without a word, grabs a blanket, throwing it over Eric’s body, hiding the blood, hiding the truth, at least for a moment. They’re preparing him for transport, and you can barely hold it together, your breath coming in short bursts as you try to comprehend what’s happening.

Mark turns to you, his expression softening just for a moment, but the urgency doesn’t allow for it to last. “We’ll take him out the back. No time for anything else. It’s our only chance.”

You nod numbly, unable to speak, too consumed by the gravity of the moment. You watch, helpless, as the men lift Eric’s limp body, moving with a practiced urgency. You’re still frozen, but you know you have to follow. You have no choice but to follow them.

They move through the back door of the cabin, trying to make as little noise as possible. Mark holds Eric’s body against his chest, Lucas watching from the side, ensuring they’re not spotted. They move quickly through the shadows, towards the car parked in the alleyway. The air outside is cold, the night alive with tension, but you can barely feel anything but the heaviness in your chest.

You barely make it to the car, your heart racing as you climb in beside Lucas. He’s already in the driver’s seat, his hands tight on the wheel, his jaw clenched in a mixture of fear and determination. Mark is in the back with Eric, holding his body against him, whispering something you can’t hear.

The car jolts as the engine starts, and Lucas doesn’t waste a second. He slams his foot on the gas pedal, driving like a maniac, swerving through the dark roads, barely slowing down as they approach the highway. The speedometer climbs higher and higher, the tires screeching as the car pushes forward, desperation and fear driving them all.

You can’t even form words, the silence in the car thick and heavy with your grief. You feel like you’re suffocating, the pressure in your chest too much to bear, the loss already beginning to swallow you whole. The thought of losing Eric… it feels like too much.

The car screeches to a halt in front of the hospital, the tires burning as Lucas slams on the brakes, bringing them to an abrupt stop. The headlights cut through the night like a beacon of desperation. The cold air hits you like a shockwave as you spill out of the car, your body shaking from the effort of trying to stay calm. You can barely focus, too consumed with the terrifying thought that Eric might slip away before anyone can save him.

The hospital staff is already rushing out before you even make it to the sidewalk. A nurse, seeing the state of Eric, immediately signals for help. “Get the stretcher!” she shouts. Within seconds, a team of medics swarms around him, pushing a gurney towards the car. Mark helps lift Eric’s still form, holding him carefully as they lay him on the stretcher. You can barely breathe, your heart hammering against your ribs as you follow them, barely able to keep up with the frantic pace.

The doors of the hospital slide open, and the noise of the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway hits you like a cold wave. People bustle around, moving quickly, their faces tense with concentration as they prepare to deal with the emergency. A nurse takes one look at you, and without a word, she directs you to a waiting room, her voice soft but firm, “Stay here.”

“I’m going with him,” you snap, your voice shaking, but your resolve is unbreakable.

The desperation in your eyes must say enough because no one stops you after that. They let you in.

You follow, breathless, as they rush him down the hallway, your heart hammering against your ribs as the doors to the ER burst open. Everything is chaos—

Too bright. Too white. The fluorescent lights buzz above you, a low, relentless hum that scrapes against your skull. The world feels distant, like it’s slipping through your fingers, but you don’t try to hold onto it. You just stand there, staring through the glass.

Inside, they’re working on him.

Doctors move frantically around the gurney, their voices sharp, cutting through the heavy silence that presses down on your ears.

Someone shouts something short, urgent, but the words slip past you like water. Machines beep, alarms wail, gloves snap.

A nurse moves aside, and for a second, you see him. His body still, chest bare, skin too pale under the harsh lights and the only colour coming from his tattoos.

Eric.

Blood is everywhere.

On the sheets, on the doctors’ gloves, smeared across his chest. His body jerks violently as they press paddles to him, a raw, mechanical voice calling out—Clear!—before another brutal shock rips through him. His back arches, then slams back onto the table.

No reaction.

Eric isn’t moving.

A thick, plastic tube is shoved down his throat, his lips parted around it, blood crusting at the corner of his mouth. His eyes are closed. He isn’t breathing.

He looks—

No.

You won’t think that word.

Another shock.

The force lifts him, his muscles seizing, ribs straining under the voltage. The monitor wails, a long, unbroken scream of flatlining sound. Someone shouts something. A doctor throws something aside, snapping orders. Gloves streaked in red press down on Eric’s chest, pumping, pushing, forcing his body to keep fighting.

You can’t move. You can’t breathe.

Eric is dying.

A reflection flickers in the glass. You barely register it, but somewhere in the back of your mind, it scratches. A shape, unmoving.

A girl.

Small, standing down the hallway, her arms wrapped around herself. Long blonde hair spills over her shoulders, pale against the hospital’s fluorescent lights. Her eyes—deep green, too deep—lock onto yours, wide and unblinking. There’s something in her face, something hollow, something afraid.

Why?

Your gaze drops to your hands, your arms, your clothes.

Blood.

Seeping into the fabric, dark and dried in some places, wet and sticky in others.

Your fingers twitch.

Slowly, almost mechanically, you reach for your jacket and pull it closed over your chest, hiding the red.

A voice calls out. A name, maybe yours, maybe his. But you don’t turn. You just watch through the glass as they press the paddles to Eric’s chest one more time.

His body jolts.

And then—

A sound.

Faint, barely there. A blip of resistance against the silence.

Beep.

Your breath hitches.

Then another.

Beep. Beep.

The long, merciless flatline cuts off, replaced by an erratic, stuttering rhythm. Weak. Fragile. But there.

The doctors move in a blur, stabilizing, adjusting tubes, calling out numbers you don’t understand. Someone barks an order, and they push a cart forward, wheeling Eric toward another room. His face remains slack, unmoving, but the screen beside him flickers with life.

Your body sags against the glass, fingers slipping down the cold surface. A sob crawls up your throat, but it sticks there, refusing to come out.

“Holy shit,” Mark mutters beside you, but his voice sounds far away. Distant, like it’s coming through a thick layer of fog.

A hand lands on your shoulder. Warm, grounding but you don’t react. Your eyes stay fixed on Eric, on the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath the tangle of tubes and wires.

Not dead.

Not gone.

But not safe, either.

A nurse steps into the hall, pulling down her mask. She looks at you first, at the blood smeared across your clothes, at the way your hands are clenched so tightly your knuckles have gone white. Her expression softens.

“He’s alive,” she says, and for a split second, the world stops spinning.

But then she adds, “Your husband is alive. But he’s critical. We’re taking him to surgery now.”

Her words barely register. The room tilts slightly, the overhead lights swimming in your vision.

Then the words hit like a bullet to the ribs.

Your breath stutters, your body locking up. The nurse doesn’t wait for a correction just gives you a reassuring nod before turning away, disappearing down the corridor.

That word echoes in your skull, clanging against the chaos inside you. You don’t correct it. You don’t say anything at all. He’s alive. That all it matters.

“Hey,” Mark’s voice sharpens. “Breathe.”

You inhale, shaky and uneven.

The next minutes blur. Eric disappears behind double doors, swallowed by sterile corridors and too-bright lights. Mark and Lucas guide you to a set of chairs against the wall, but sitting doesn’t help. Nothing helps.

Your clothes are stiff with dried blood. Your hands won’t stop shaking.

You sink into the chair, legs too weak to hold you. The world feels unsteady, shifting beneath you like you’re standing on the edge of something you can’t quite name.

You sit there, motionless, staring at the space where Eric had been just moments ago. The nurse’s words still echo in your head, looping over and over again.

“Your husband is alive.”

She had said it so naturally, so easily, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if there had never been any doubt. As if it made sense.

Your husband.

The thought lingers, curling around your mind like smoke. You’d barely processed it then, too desperate to see him, but now it twists in your chest, stirring something deep, something raw.

You press your elbows against your knees, burying your face in your hands. Blood stains your fingers, dried and cracked at the edges, a stark reminder that this is real. That Eric almost died. That maybe he still will.

You exhale, shaky and uneven, and lift your head.

And then you see her again.

The little girl.

She’s still down the hall, but now she’s with her mom, or you think that the woman is her mom. She’s standing near the corner, peeking out cautiously. Her arms are wrapped around herself, her small fingers clutching the fabric of her dress. She isn’t afraid of you. She’s just watching, those big green eyes unblinking.

And then—those green eyes.

She couldn’t have been more than six or seven, her long blonde hair falling in waves over her small shoulders. But it was her eyes that caught you, a vivid, piercing green. The same impossible shade that burned through you every time Eric looked your way.

She was just a child, just a stranger in the hospital. But for a brief, irrational moment, you saw something else.A future, a daughter with his eyes. A family.

Something shifts in your stomach, deep and unsettling.

It’s ridiculous. It’s nothing. It means nothing.

But the thought lodges itself in your brain, and it won’t let go.

Maybe a little girl with green eyes and blonde hair would have been running toward him, calling him Dad.

You swallow hard, pressing your back into the chair.

It’s stupid. It’s nothing.

But still, your heart aches.

You don’t know how much time has passed. It doesn’t feel real.

Then, a voice pulls you back.

“You need to eat.”

You blink, sluggish, disoriented, and look up. Lucas is standing in front of you, holding out a bottle of water and a sandwich in plastic wrapping. His face is drawn, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion.

You shake your head. “I’m not hungry.”

He glances toward the hallway clock and scoffs softly. “It’s afternoon.”

Your stomach turns. Afternoon.

It doesn’t make sense. How could time have slipped away so fast? The last thing you remember, it was dark, sirens wailing in the night. Now, the hospital hums with life, daylight streaming through the windows. You’ve been sitting here for hours.

Before you can say anything, a nurse appears. You snap upright, pulse spiking, searching her face for answers before she even speaks.

“He’s stable.”

The words hit you like a crash, knocking the breath from your lungs.

Stable.

Lucas exhales sharply beside you, but you barely register it.

“His vitals have improved,” the nurse continues. “The surgery went well. He lost a lot of blood, but we were able to control it. He’s going to need time, but…” she offers a small, cautious smile, “he’s better.”

Your chest tightens, your fingers digging into the bottle. “Can I see him?”

The nurse hesitates. You can see the conflict in her face, the rules she’s supposed to follow battling against the raw desperation in your voice.

Then, finally, she exhales.

“Alright. Just for a moment.”

The room is dimly lit, the sterile glow of machines casting faint shadows against the walls. It smells of antiseptic, too clean, too sharp. The steady beep of a monitor fills the silence, rhythmic and unyielding, each pulse a reminder that he’s still here.

Eric lies motionless in the hospital bed.

Wires snake across his bare chest, disappearing beneath the blankets. His skin is pale, the bruises and stitched wounds stark against it. A thick bandage wraps around his shoulder and another one to his chest, where the fresh gunshots wound still lingers, another scars among so many.

Your fingers tremble as you reach for him. Slowly, carefully, you take his hand in yours. It’s warm, solid, alive. A choked breath leaves you, and your knees nearly give out.

He’s alive.

The relief is suffocating. It presses into your ribs, tight and painful, forcing the tears from your eyes before you can stop them.

You squeeze Eric’s hand a little tighter. “You scared me,” you murmur, voice unsteady. “I thought—” You stop yourself, shaking your head. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move. But the machine beeps steadily beside him, a promise that he’s still here, that he’s still fighting.

You lean your forehead against his hand, eyes squeezing shut as a silent tear slips down your cheek.

And you stay like that. Holding on.

At some point, the door creaks open. The sound barely registers until a voice follows it, soft but firm.

“You should rest.”

The voice is soft but firm, pulling you out of your trance. You blink, barely registering the nurse standing beside you. She gives you a small, understanding smile before her eyes drop to your clothes.

“And you should change,” she adds gently.

You follow her gaze.

Blood.

It’s his blood.

You swallow hard, your fingers twitching against Eric’s hand, gripping him tighter.

“I don’t want to leave him,” you say, barely above a whisper.

The nurse crouches slightly to meet your gaze. “He’s stable now. He made it through the worst of it.” She pauses; voice softer. “You won’t do him any good like this.”

The blood on you is dried, but it still feels wet, like it’s seeping into your skin, into your soul, staining something deeper than fabric.

The nurse touches your arm lightly. “Go home. Shower. Change. Come back. He’ll still be here.”

You force yourself to nod.

Slowly, painfully, you unwind your fingers from Eric’s. It feels like ripping yourself open, like leaving a piece of yourself behind as you step away.

When you step into the hallway, Mark and Lucas are there.

Lucas looks up first, eyes scanning you. He opens his mouth, probably to ask if something happened, but you beat him to it.

“The nurse told me to go home and change,” you say. Your voice doesn’t even sound like your own. “She said he’s stable.”

Mark nods. “That’s good.”

Lucas studies you for a second before nodding, too. “We’ll stay here.”

You exhale, gripping your jacket tighter around you, and without another word, you turn and leave.

The apartment feels different.

The moment you step inside, silence swallows you whole. The lights are off. Everything is exactly how you left it, but it feels wrong, like you don’t belong here anymore. Like you stepped into a place frozen in time, but you are no longer the same.

You move on autopilot, stripping out of your clothes the second you step into the bathroom. The fabric clings to you, and you hate it. You want it off, want it gone, want to erase every trace of tonight from your body.

You step into the shower and turn the water as hot as it will go.

It scalds your skin, but you don’t move.

You close your eyes, pressing your forehead against the cool tiles as the water pounds against your back.

You suck in a breath, but it’s shaky, like your lungs forgot how to work properly.

For a moment, he was gone.

And for a moment, you thought—

No.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. No. He’s alive. He made it. You keep telling yourself that, but the fear lingers, wrapping itself around your ribs, squeezing tight.

You don’t know how long you stay there. Long enough for the water to start running cold. Long enough for your skin to feel raw from the heat.

Eventually, you force yourself to move.

You dry off, dress quickly in something clean. You sit down on the couch for a moment. Your knees pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped around them, staring at nothing. The apartment still feels wrong, like a place that belonged to someone else, to a different version of you who had no idea what the night would bring.

You should leave. You should go back to the hospital. But just for a second, you sit down, just to catch your breath, just to clear your mind for a moment before you go back to him.

Your head rests against the cushion. You blink slowly.

And then—

Darkness.

A sharp jolt rips you out of sleep.

You sit up too fast, the world spinning, panic hitting you like a fist to the chest.

Daylight spills through the windows. The soft, grey kind of morning light that settles over the city, stretching long shadows across the floor.

Morning.

Morning.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

“Fuck—” The word rips out of you, raw and sharp as you shove the blanket off of you. When did you even pull a blanket over yourself? It doesn’t matter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

You shoot off the couch, grabbing your jacket, shoving your shoes on, moving too fast, your body still heavy with exhaustion but your mind racing. How could you fall asleep? How could you be so fucking stupid?

The hospital.

You need to get to the hospital.

You rush through the halls, your breath still uneven, your pulse loud in your ears.

When you spot Mark, you go straight to him. Lucas is beside him, both of them looking up as you stumble toward them, your words already spilling out—

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how it happened, I just— I sat down for a second, and then I— I should’ve been here, I didn’t mean to leave for so long, I swear, I—”

Mark shakes his head, raising a hand. “Relax.”

“No, but I—”

Lucas sighs, stepping closer, and before you can start talking again, he cuts you off—

“He’s awake.”

The world tilts.

Your breath catches.

“What?”

Lucas smirks, just a little. “Eric’s awake.” His eyes flick toward the door. “And he wants to see you.”

The air leaves your lungs all at once.

Then, without another word, you turn and walk straight toward his room.

The quiet beeping of the machines fills the room, the sterile smell of the hospital air mixing with the faint scent of Eric’s skin. He’s awake now, his eyes flicking to you with that same intensity, though there’s something softer beneath the surface. Something… real.

His voice breaks the silence, rough and a little unsteady. “You look like shit.” The words come out with that familiar smirk of his, but there’s no malice in them. Just that sharp edge of his humour.

You chuckle softly, a little breathless. “Yeah, well, you look like you’ve been through hell.”

He chuckles too, but it’s more of a rasp, like he’s testing the limits of his own body, still fragile from the ordeal. He watches you, a glint in his eyes, as if trying to read every emotion flickering across your face.

You glance away, feeling the weight of everything that’s happened pressing down on you.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you say, your voice quieter than you mean for it to be, but it’s the truth. The fear that had gripped you earlier when you didn’t know if he was going to pull through starts to bubble up again.

He leans forward, just a little, the shift in his posture pulling you in without him even trying. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away that easy, did you?” His tone is teasing, but there’s something more there. Something deeper.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, his gaze softening just a little. The teasing edge is still there, but there’s something else now. Something genuine, like he’s trying to reassure you.

He reaches out slowly, almost as if testing the waters, and you can feel your pulse quicken. His fingers graze your cheek lightly, then trail down to your jaw, sending a shiver through you. His touch is steady, grounding, but it’s his gaze—deep and searching—that pulls you in completely.

Without thinking, you close the small distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that’s unexpected but everything you’ve been wanting. His lips are warm, just the right amount of pressure, and when he deepens it, you’re lost. Every worry, every ounce of fear you’ve felt over the past hours melts away, replaced by the rush of heat and the sweet taste of his mouth.

When he finally pulls back, just slightly, you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. He looks at you, his eyes a mixture of affection and something darker, something that makes your chest tighten.

But then, without warning, he shifts in the bed, his body slowly pulling away from you. You watch, wide-eyed, as Eric starts to swing his legs off the side, his movements shaky, unstable.

You grab his arm instinctively, panic surging through you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is sharp, laced with concern. His body is weak, and you can see the strain on his face as he tries to stand, his legs wobbling beneath him.

He looks at you, a faint smirk on his lips, though it’s clear he’s pushing himself harder than he should. “I’m getting out of here.”

Your brow furrows, even more confused and alarmed now. “You’re not going anywhere. You can barely stand.”

He lets out a low chuckle, though it’s more out of frustration than humour. “I can’t stay here.” His voice is strained, but firm. “The cops are on their way. They’ll want to question me. That’s how it works with hospitals, sweetheart. They’ve already notified them.”

You freeze, his words sinking in. The police? Here? In this moment, it feels like the last thing you want to deal with, but his expression is all seriousness. He’s not kidding.

The door open slowly as Mark and Lucas come inside.

“You good?” Lucas says while gives Eric a bag with clothes.

We’re good,” you answered in Eric’s place, he being too busy to dress himself.

Lucas gives a nod, glancing at Mark. The two of them share a silent look before Mark steps forward, his expression serious.

“We’ve got the diversion set up,” he says in a low voice. “But it’s not going to last forever. We need to move fast.”

Mark gestures toward the emergency exit, and the four of you move quickly. The hospital is full of sound. Footsteps, voices, the incessant hum of machines but it’s easy to slip by unnoticed, the shadows seeming to swallow you whole.

You make your way to a back stairwell, and that’s when Lucas quickly pulls out his phone. His fingers fly across the screen, and you see him text something, maybe to one of their guys.

“The distractions in place,” he mutters. “They’ll cause a scene on the front entrance. Enough to pull security and anyone else away from the back.”

The diversion kicks in a few seconds later. A loud crash echoes through the hallway, followed by shouts and panicked voices. You don’t turn around, but you can feel the shift in the atmosphere. The tension in the air breaks for a moment as everyone’s attention is pulled toward the front of the building.

That’s their cue.

Mark leads the way down another set of stairs, his steps quick and deliberate. You follow, your heart pounding, Eric’s breath shallow beside you.

You reach a small back exit, the cool night air greeting you as Mark pulls the door open, looking around quickly to make sure the coast is clear. You all slip out into the alley behind the hospital.

You barely have time to process anything as Lucas pulls out a car key and unlocks a nearby black SUV. The engine rumbles to life as you all pile in, with Eric collapsing into the seat next to you, still pale but determined.

We made it,” Mark says, exhaling sharply. “That should give us enough time to get out of the area before anyone figures out what happened.”

Mark laughs from the front seat. It’s infectious, and before long, Lucas is chuckling too, and even Eric’s deep laugh fills the space between you, like a weightlifting off his shoulders.

Eric pulls you closer, his arm reaching across the back seat to bring you against him. His lips are on your neck before you can fully comprehend what’s happening. You shiver, the warmth of his body against yours sending a rush of heat through your veins.

“We fucking did it,” Eric mutters, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill down your spine. He grins like a man who’s just conquered the world, but his eyes tell a different story. They’re dark, almost wild with a mix of adrenaline and something else, something you can’t quite place but know is dangerous.

You glance at Mark and Lucas up front. They’re busy, pretending not to notice, like it’s nothing, like they don’t care that Eric has his hand in your hair, pulling you even closer. It’s like a switch has flipped, and everything feels like it used to. Reckless, unrestrained, the rush of living in the moment.

Eric’s lips find yours in a sudden, urgent kiss, deep and demanding. He tastes like the wild rush of the escape, like everything that’s been building between you two. The kiss is filled with everything you’ve both been holding back, a mix of relief, hunger, and an undeniable connection.

He groans softly against your lips, his hand drifting down to your thigh, his fingers pressing slow into the soft fabric of your jeans, between your legs. His voice drops, thick and dark, as he whispers into your ear.

“I’ve missed this… missed you…” His breath against your skin sends a shiver down your spine. “So fucking much. Don’t think for a second that I’m letting you go.”

You barely have time to respond before his lips are on you again, more frantic now, more desperate. His hand keeps moving on your core. You can feel his heart thumping in time with yours.

In the front, Mark and Lucas keep their eyes on the road, not acknowledging what’s happening in the back seat.

The car eventually pulls into the familiar street, and the noise of the city fades as Mark parks outside Eric’s building. The engine hums to a stop, but the moment feels like it could last forever.

Eric’s breathing is heavy, his lips still lingering on yours, as if he can’t quite let you go, but he pulls away just enough to give you a smirk.

“You good?” he asks, voice rough but full of satisfaction.

You nod, still lost in the heat of his kiss, of his touch, your pulse racing. “I’m good,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mark’s voice breaks through, sounding almost playful. “We’re here. You two better save the rest for later.”

Eric straightens himself up, adjusting his shirt as if nothing happened, though the look in his eyes says everything. He’s back. The old Eric, the one who was unstoppable, who lived for the thrill of the chase. The one you had to be careful of. But right now, he’s just yours.

The four of you head up to Eric’s place.

“You need something, you call” Mark says while Lucas gives Eric a bag full of painkillers.

They hang out for a few minutes, talking quietly, and then leave you two alone.

As the door closes behind them, the silence settles in, the city outside fading into the background.

As you walk toward the bedroom, you glance over your shoulder, making sure Eric is following

“Come on,” you murmur, guiding him gently toward the bed. “You need to lie down.”

“You’re bossy,” Eric chuckles, raising an eyebrow, but he obliges, slowly easing down onto the bed with a sigh. His movements are slow, deliberate, and you can see the pain etched across his face, how bad everything hurt, every move he makes he’s hissing in pain.

“ I like it.” He says reaching over to the bedside table and grabs the bottle of painkillers, swallowing a couple with a grimace before settling back against the pillow. His gaze meets yours, warm and appreciative.

You smile, settling down beside him. “Well, someone has to keep you in line.”

“Let’s watch something” you say  ce Reaching for the remote, you scroll through the options, trying to pick something lighthearted. Something that can take his mind off of everything. Finally, you settle on a romantic movie, one that feels fitting for the soft, golden light streaming through the window. The sun is setting, casting a warm, amber glow across the room, and the curtains flutter ever so slightly, the air carrying the soft scent of the outside world.

You lean back, careful not to jostle him too much, your shoulder gently brushing his as you settle in. He turns his head slightly, his hand finding yours almost instinctively. His fingers lightly trace over yours, the touch soft but somehow weighty, like it holds more meaning than either of you are willing to admit just yet.

Eric’s thumb gently moves along the back of your hand, his touch light but constant. He doesn’t speak for a moment, just enjoying the stillness of it all. Then his hand gently slipping around your waist, pulling you even closer. The touch is tender, almost reverential.

“Do you really like this movie?” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there, gentle and sweet, and you find yourself melting into him even more, every little touch making you feel like you’re exactly where you need to be.

You look up at him, catching the glint of affection in his eyes. 

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours, soft and lingering. The kiss is sweet, the kind that says more than words ever could. But soon, it deepens, the sweetness turning into something much hotter. His hand moves from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his mouth presses more insistently against yours.

You kiss him back just as fiercely, your fingers sliding into his hair, tugging him closer. The room seems to disappear around you as the kiss deepens, the heat between you two intensifying, raw and needy. The movie, the sunset, everything else fades into the background. There’s only the two of you lost in the sensation of each other, in the fire that has reignited between you.

As you straddle him, your legs sliding over his, the intensity between you two heightens. Your breath hitches in your throat, heart pounding in anticipation, the space between you shrinking until there’s nothing left but the press of your bodies, the heat radiating between you both. Your legs rest on either side of his, your knees gently framing his waist, feeling the weight of him beneath you.

The touch of his hands on your back is electric, sending a current through you, every inch of skin that connects to his is a spark, and the closeness feels suffocating yet exhilarating, a dizzying mixture of love, lust, and the raw desire that’s been building for what feels like forever. 

Your hands move instinctively, pulling at the fabric of his shirt, fingers trembling as you strip it off. Your eyes trail over his chest, your eyes are drawn down to his torso, to the bandages wrapped around him. The sight of it, raw, exposed, and real stirs something deep inside you, a surge of protectiveness and tenderness. The clean white bandage stands out stark against his skin, marking the injury, the thing that could’ve taken him from you, but also a reassure that he’s here, with you, alive.

Eric leans in, kissing you deeply, the heat of his body matching the fire in his kiss. It’s intense, raw, but beneath it all is tenderness. Something unspoken, a deeper connection that goes beyond the physical.

Between kisses, his hands move to your waist, lifting gently your top, removing it from your body. You both continue till you’re both completely naked.

As you pull away for just a moment to catch your breath, your eyes meet his. His gaze is intense, dark with desire, but there’s still something vulnerable in it, something soft that calls to you. You move your eyes from hisnto his hard cock. His chest rises and falls rapidly as if he’s fighting the urge to take you.

Slowly you wrap your hand around his cock, moving your hand up and down from the base to the tip.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse while his watching your moves.

You don’t stop, you keep moving your hand faster this time. A soft low moan escaped Eric lips. Small drops of precum start to form at his tip.

Suddenly he removes your hand pulling you closer, moving you on top of him, your body presses against his.

“Sorry baby, no time for this, I need to be inside you now. I need to feel you.” He says wrapping his hand around his cock, moving slowly to your entrance.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice low and guttural, when you let yourself down on his cock. You begin to move, slowly at first, teasing him. His head falls back against the pillow, eyes half-lidded, watching you with a hunger that makes your stomach flutter and your pulse race.

 His hands find your hips, guiding you, controlling your rhythm, but you take control again, moving in slow, deliberate rolls of your hips, feeling the weight of him inside you, filling you in ways that make your whole body ache for more. You feel the heat of him beneath you, the way his chest rises and falls with each strained breath.

His lips crash against yours, deep, urgent, and almost too hungry. His hands move between you, fingers sliding down your skin, tracing the curve of your body before pulling you in closer, making you grind harder against him, the friction of your bodies raw and electric.

His hands slide down your body, gripping your thighs as he pulls you even closer, thrusting harder into you. The raw sound of skin meeting skin fills the air, and you can’t help but moan louder, your body rocking against his in perfect rhythm, desperate, needy, unrelenting.

You gasp out his name, and he laughs softly, darkly, the sound laced with something primal that sends a shiver down your spine. “Every time I more, it hurts like a bitch,” he says, a smirk pulling at his lips despite the pain. 

You hesitate for a split second, worried that he’s pushing himself too far, but before you can pull away, he grabs your wrist, his grip tight, not letting you move. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he growls, his eyes locking with yours.

His words hit you like a wave, and you fall into him again, your movements becoming more frantic, more desperate as the pace quickens, every motion causing his body to jerk beneath you.

“Ride me, baby,” he commands in a rough whisper, his voice thick with lust. “Ride me until this pain wears off. Until the only feeling is your pussy wrapped tightly around my cock.”

The raw intensity of his words sends a shiver through you, and with a deep breath, you push yourself up, bracing your hands on his chest for support. Your body moves, a slow grind at first, feeling every inch of him deep inside you, but then you begin to move faster, harder. You feel the way he starts to tremble beneath you, how his fingers dig into your skin, pulling you closer, urging you on. Each time you rock against his cock, the sensation sends waves of heat through you.

As the pace between you both builds, the tension in the room becomes almost unbearable. The heat between your bodies intensifies, and with each movement, you feel yourself getting closer. His hands grip you tighter, guiding you on his cock.

Eric’s eyes are locked on yours, his lips parted, and you can see the strain in his face. They way his jaw clenches as he tries to hold on, torn between the pleasure of the moment and the pain that’s still lingering in his body. His hands tighten on your hips, moving you faster, harder. “God… you feel so fucking good…”  His groans breathes, his voice thick with lust, the intensity of the moment breaking through everything else.

You can feel it too. The slow burn inside you, the heat growing stronger with every thrust, every roll of your hips. Your body starts to tense, that sweet, familiar pressure building, the edge so close you can almost taste it. The air between you is thick, your breaths shallow and erratic, and all you can focus on is him. His touch, his moans, how his cock feels inside you, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

His eyes are half-lidded, watching you as you move against him, and suddenly, his voice comes out hoarse, almost desperate. “Say it again.”

For a moment, you don’t understand what he’s asking. You don’t stop, though. Your body continues. You lean in to kiss him, a mix of passion and sweetness, but his hand grips your chin firmly, pulling you back to look at him.

“Say it,” he repeats, voice strained. “Say that you love me again, like you did in that fucking bathroom. Say it, baby… ’Cause I fucking love you.”

The words hit you hard, a rush of emotions flooding your chest. The depth of his voice, the raw need laced in his tone, makes your heart skip a beat. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you even closer. You don’t even hesitate. You breathe it out, raw and truthful, your voice shaking as the words spill from your lips.

“I love you, Eric.”

The moment those words leave your mouth, everything intensifies. You move against him again, your body rising and falling in a rhythm that mirrors the emotions pouring out of you both. The tension, the rawness, the intimacy, the pressure building. And then, it hits you, the build, the rush. It’s as if the world fades away completely, leaving nothing but the overwhelming intensity of your connection, you left out a soft moan while the orgasm it hits you, you feeling iy through your whole body, making you to clench your pussy around his cock.

His body tenses beneath you, and you feel it, every single inch of him tightening in pleasure and pain, a mix of both. His breath catches in his throat, his hand gripping your body harder, pulling you closer, as his hot seed spills inside you. Eric’s moans become louder, his groans deeper. “Fuck,” he growls under his breath.

Both of you fall, crashing into that blissful moment of release, your bodies trembling together, a deep, guttural moan escaping Eric’s lips as he loses himself in the sensation. It’s as if time stops, and all that exists is this one shared moment of pleasure, of love, of everything you’ve been through together.

The aftermath is quiet, serene, the weight of it all settling in between you. His hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek as you both try to catch your breath, hearts still pounding.

“I don’t want to let you go, never.” he whispers, voice thick with emotion.

You smile softly, leaning into his touch, your heart full. “You won’t have to, I’ll always be here. Always.”

Eric chuckles softly, his lips brushing against your forehead as he kisses you gently. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with gratitude, but also a little disbelief. “Thank you for choosing to love me. Thank you for accepting me… the way I am. For seeing me, not the mistakes I’ve made. Not all the shit I’ve put myself through.”

You look up at him, your hands cupping his face as you gaze into his eyes. Those green eyes that have seen so much darkness, yet now hold something softer, something more real. You can’t help but smile, your lips curling with affection. “I will always do that,” you say quietly. “I’ll always choose you. I love you, just the way you are. Everything you’ve been through, all of it, it’s part of you. And I’m with you for all of it. I’m here, Eric. I always will be.”

He closes his eyes for a second, taking in your words as if they’re exactly what he needed to hear. His voice is thick with emotion when he speaks again. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he says, his fingers gently tracing the lines of your face. “But I swear to god, I’ll never let you go. You’re my home. You’re my fucking everything.”

“I love you, Eric,” you whisper again, just because you need him to know. Again and again.

“And I love you,” he replies, his voice firm, certain.

You both fall into a peaceful silence, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you, more powerful than any action or kiss could express.

The room is bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, the warm breeze shifting the curtains. The TV hums in the background, playing a movie neither of you have followed.

Eric is beside you, warm, solid, alive. His fingers trace lazy patterns against your skin, his arm holding you close. Your head rests on his shoulder, his scent still clinging to you.

For the first time in forever, there’s no threat, no fear. Victor is gone. Eric is here. You are here. And the weight in your chest has finally lifted.

Your mind drifts back to the little girl in the hospital, the green eyes, the stupid thought you pushed away.

But now, with him safe, his lips pressing softly into your hair, his touch easy.

Maybe, just maybe it’s not so stupid after all.

“Hmm?” Eric hums, his voice low, lazy. “Did you say something?”

You smile against his skin. “Nothing.”

He just pulls you closer, kissing your forehead grip tightening around you like he knows what you’re thinking.

And with that, you both lay together, knowing that whatever comes next. Whaterver life throws at you, it doesn’t matter. You have each other. And that’s all that matters.

Forever.

_____________

@paraficwriter @clairesblouse

A/N: Before anything else, I want to take a moment to express my gratitude. To each of you who liked, commented, or shared—no matter how you showed your support. It has meant the world to me. What began as a simple anonymous message quickly evolved into an idea I couldn’t ignore. Initially, I envisioned a single one-shot, but the story kept unfolding, demanding more. I told myself it would be two parts, then three… and yet, here we are, at part six. In truth, if we count the length of the final sections, it could have easily been nine or ten. None of this would have been possible without you. Your encouragement kept me going, and for that, I am endlessly grateful. Also, I want to say that this is my first fic. I’ve only written one-shots before. So this journey has been incredibly meaningful to me. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being a part of it. I hope the story lived up to your expectations, I can’t wait to hear your final thoughts on this story! ❤️