#flirtatious

Steve Harrington x shy!reader 3k words

warnings: fluff, flirting, being set up with each other, Nancy and reader are bsfs,

𝙖/𝙣: 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙄’𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣!!

Robin and Nancy work together to get you and Steve on a date, you find out that all you needed was a little push

Steve was going through a rough patch, after his glory ‘king Steve’ days, it seemed no girl cared about him anymore. His reputation was already ruined by being employed at the local family video, and on top of that, all the female customers just ignored him when they walked in.

Robin prided herself on her match-making skills, the problem was that Steve was going after the usual high school hook up type. He needed someone that was looking for the same thing as him — ready to accept the slightly worn out Steve, someone to actually settle down with long-term. And Nancy had you as a friend, you weren’t all that outgoing — preferring to stay in, curled up on the couch with a book in your hands during a Friday night. But according to Robin you were perfect, you would be able to slow Steve down a bit, and “make that dingus finally get a girl.”

• pairing: neteyam x reader

• warnings: kissing

• summary: Reader being one of Ronal’s daughters and Neteyam visiting the Metkayina village more often than necessary just to see her, even though Ao’nung catches on immediately and never lets him live it down.

“You are here again?” Aonung said, awfully amused. "This is the third time this week."

Neteyam adjusted the strap of his satchel, deliberately slow, before glancing over his shoulder. The early morning mist of the cove clung to his beads. “And if I am?”

Ao'nung leaned against a nearby post, arms crossed, his grin widening. "You tell me, forest boy. Unless you've suddenly developed a taste for our seaweed stew—which, by the way, you still grimace at every time my mother serves it."

From the woven walkway above, a soft familiar laugh drifted down. Neteyam didn't need to look up to know whose it was, but he did anyway. Ronal's youngest daughter balanced effortlessly on the narrow rail, her feet bare and her fingers curled loosely around a beribboned bundle of tide-pressed flowers. She tilted her head, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Ao'nung followed his gaze and groaned. "Oh Eywa, save me. You're predictable as the tide."

Neteyam ignored him, stepping closer to the walkway. "Those for the spring offering?" he asked, nodding at the flowers.

She shrugged, swinging her legs idly. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like how they look." Her gaze flicked to Ao'nung, then back to Neteyam, mischief flickering. "You should come see for yourself."

Without waiting for a reply, she slipped off the rail and disappeared into the canopy of woven fronds overhead, leaving Neteyam standing there like a fool and Ao'nung snickering behind him. "Go on," he taunted, shoving Neteyam lightly. "Before she changes her mind."

Neteyam shot him a glare but didn't argue. He'd learned by now that some battles weren't worth fighting, especially when the prize was already out of reach, flitting through the trees ahead of him.

Neteyam caught up to her where the walkway dipped low over a tidal pool, her silhouette framed by the dappled light filtering through the leaves. She was kneeling now, trailing her fingers in the water, the flower bundle abandoned beside her.

"You're slow," she said without looking up. "I expected you to be quicker."

"I was admiring the view," he shot back, walking to stand beside her.

Neteyam caught the droplets she flicked on his forearm, rubbing them between his fingers with exaggerated contemplation. "You know," he mused, "if you wanted me wet, you could've just asked."

She arched a brow, fingertips still skimming the water’s surface. "Oh? And you’d say yes?"

"To you?" He shrugged, fighting the grin tugging at his lips. "Probably."

The tidal pool between them shimmered with the reflection of her smirk. "Probably isn’t a yes."

She tilted her head, considering him with playful scrutiny. "Swim with me," she said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Right now."

He glanced at the water, then back at her. "And if I drown?"

"You won’t." She flicked another droplet at him, this time landing square on his collarbone. "You know how to swim. And in case something happens I’d save you."

Neteyam exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers drumming once against his leg. "You'd save me," he repeated, deadpan. "Like that time you 'saved' me from the shallow reef by pushing me in?"

Her grin widened, unrepentant. "You were being dramatic about stepping on sea urchins. I expedited the process."

"You expediated me into a clump of coral"

She flicked her fingers again, sending a shimmering arc of saltwater toward him. Neteyam caught her wrist before the droplets could land, his thumb pressing lightly against the delicate bones beneath her skin. Her tail lashing before she stilled, her amusement softening into something quieter. "Careful," she murmured. "People might think you actually are not coming here just for curiosity"

Neteyam didn’t release her wrist. Instead, he traced the path of a single droplet as it slid down her forearm, his touch featherlight. "Maybe the curiosity isn't really culture related," he said, voice low enough that the words barely carried over the lap of the tide. "Ever consider that?"

Her breath hitched before she recovered, tilting her chin up. "And if I did?" The challenge in her eyes was undercut by the way her fingers twitched against his palm, uncertain.

"Then I’d say you’re wasting time talking about it." His thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow, deliberate. "When you could be proving it."

She exhaled sharply, half-laugh, half-scoff, but didn’t pull away. "Proving what, exactly? That you’re terrible at staying dry when i'm around?"

Neteyam tightened his grip just enough to tug her forward, not enough to pull her off balance, but enough to make her lean in, close enough that the saltwater scent of her hair mixed with the warmth of her breath against his jaw. "Proving," he murmured, "that you're worse at resisting me than I am at staying dry."

She scoffed, but the sound lacked its usual bite, softened by the way her free hand found its way to his waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. "Resisting you?" Her thumb brushed against his hipbone, light as a ripple on the water's surface. "That implies I was trying."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Weren't you?"

She tilted her head, considering him with exaggerated gravity. "Hm. No." Her fingers trailed up his side, slow, teasing. "I think you'll find I've been exceptionally accommodating."

Neteyam’s breath hitched when her fingers skimmed the dip of his waist, her touch featherlight but deliberate. "Exceptionally accommodating," he echoed, voice rougher than he intended. "Is that what we’re calling it?"

She hummed, her thumb tracing the curve of his ribs through his tunic. "Mm. Do you have a better term?"

"Yeah." He caught her wandering hand, lacing their fingers together. "Distracting."

Her laughter was low, warm against his skin. "You’re the one who followed me."

Neteyam traced the edge of her thumb with his own, the motion slow, deliberate, like testing the pull of a tide. "Maybe I like being distracted," he murmured, watching the way her lashes dipped at the words, the way her breath caught just slightly before she smoothed it into something careless.

She tilted her head, the sunlight catching the curve of her cheekbone. "Maybe, but you're bad at admitting it." Her fingers tightened around his, just enough to press the pads of his fingertips into the salt-damp skin of her palm. "That you like being distracted by me."

Neteyam exhaled sharply, half-laugh, half-sigh, and closed the distance between them in one slow, deliberate step. The wooden walkway creaked softly under his weight, the sound lost beneath the rush of the tide below. "Yeah," he murmured, his free hand coming up to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering. "Maybe I am."

Her breath hitched again but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers curled tighter around his, anchoring him there. "Prove it," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant crash of waves.

He didn’t hesitate. Neteyam leaned in, his nose brushing hers, close enough to feel the warmth of her exhale against his lips. "Gladly," he murmured, and then he kissed her—soft at first, testing, like the first step into unfamiliar water. Her lips were warm, salt-kissed from the ocean spray, and when she made a small, startled sound against his mouth, he felt it vibrate through his chest like the hum of a bowstring.

She didn’t resist. Instead, her free hand slid up his chest, fingers tangling in his braids as she kissed him back, first slow, then surer and hungry, her teeth grazing his lower lip in a way that made his pulse skip. Neteyam tightened his grip on her wrist, his thumb pressing into the flutter of her pulse as his other hand traced the curve of her waist, tentative at first, then bolder, skating up the dip of her spine. Her skin was warm beneath his fingertips, salt-damp from the spray, and when his palm settled between her shoulder blades, she arched into the touch with a quiet, shuddering inhale.

Neteyam grinned against her mouth, fingers curling into the loose fabric at her back, tugging her closer. "You were saying something about resisting me?" he murmured, his lips brushing hers with each word.

She nipped his lower lip in retaliation, her breath hitching when his hand slid down to cup the curve of her hip, his thumb tracing idle circles against the bare skin where her wrap had ridden up. "I was," she admitted, her voice breathless, "but then you got handsy."

"Me?" Neteyam feigned offense, his fingers skimming higher, teasing the edge of her ribcage. "You’re the one who—"

A loud, exaggerated cough shattered the moment like a stone tossed into still water.

Neteyam didn’t jerk away as he’d learned long ago that reacting only gave Ao’nung more ammunition, but his grip tightened reflexively around her waist. She, however, startled badly enough to nearly lose her balance, her fingers clutching at Neteyam’s shoulders as she whipped her head toward the interruption.

Ao’nung leaned against a nearby post, arms crossed, his smirk wide enough to rival the horizon. "Don’t stop on my account," he drawled, waving a lazy hand. "I’m just here to remind you two that my mother’s stew is getting cold. And by cold, I mean she’s already noticed Neteyam’s missing—again—and she’s not happy about it."

Neteyam exhaled sharply through his nose, reluctantly loosening his grip as she straightened, her cheeks darkening beneath her golden freckles. "We were—" she started, then faltered, scowling when Ao’nung’s grin widened.

"Oh, I know what you were doing," Ao’nung interrupted, pushing off the post with exaggerated casualness. "And so will half the village if you keep this up. Secondly," he added, tilting his head, "you want my mother to ask why her youngest daughter keeps vanishing with the forest boy every time he visits?"

Neteyam shot him a glare, but before he could retort, she flicked a handful of water directly into her brother’s face with startling precision. He spluttered, wiping his eyes with a muttered curse, and she smirked.

Ao’nung shook his head, droplets flying from his hair like startled fish leaping from the tide. "Real mature," he muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself.

Neteyam exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing as he watched her smirk soften into something more private just for him. The moment stretched, buoyed by the rhythmic lap of water against the walkway’s stilts, until Ao’nung cleared his throat again, pointedly. "Stew," he reminded them, dragging the word out like a reluctant parent herding unruly children. "Cold. Mother. You get the idea."

She sighed, rolling her shoulders back as if shaking off the last traces of the interrupted moment. "Fine," she conceded, bending to scoop up the forgotten bundle of flowers, their ribbons now damp and clinging. She tossed them at Ao’nung’s chest with deliberate nonchalance. "Put these in the offering box for me. And don’t—" she added sharply when he opened his mouth, "—say whatever you’re about to say."

Ao’nung caught the flowers with one hand, pressing the other to his heart in mock offense. "I was going to say," he lied, "that you two are disgustingly predictable." He flicked a stray petal from his shoulder and turned on his heel, tossing over his shoulder, "But by all means, take your time. I’ll just tell Mother you’re discussing tidal patterns."

Neteyam rubbed a hand over his face, the ghost of her touch still warm on his skin. "He’s insufferable," he muttered, watching Ao’nung’s retreating back.

She snorted, nudging his hip with her own. "And yet you keep coming back." Her fingers brushed his wrist before she stepped past him, her feet padding softly against the wooden planks.

He caught her hand before she could pull away entirely, his grip loose enough for her to slip free if she wanted to. She didn’t. Instead, her fingers curled around his, her thumb tracing the ridge of his knuckles with absentminded familiarity. Neteyam exhaled, the sound lost beneath the distant cry of seabirds. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice low. "I do. But not for him."

The walkway ahead sloped upward, winding through the village canopy, the afternoon light filtering through the fronds in dappled patches. She tugged him forward, her grip firm but unhurried, their steps falling into sync as naturally as the tide rolling in. "You know," she mused, her tone casual, "if you keep showing up unannounced, people might start asking questions."

Neteyam ducked beneath a low-hanging vine, his free hand brushing the small of her back to guide her around a knotted root. "Let them. I'm not hiding my admiration for you anymore."

She glanced over her shoulder, the sunlight catching the gold flecks in her eyes. "Good. You don't have to pretend from now on." Her grin softened at the edges, her fingers squeezing his once before releasing him to climb the ladder ahead, her movements effortless.

Neteyam watched her ascend, the muscles in her back shifting beneath her wrap, the salt-kissed strands of her hair catching the breeze. He followed, his own climb slower, more deliberate, because he wanted to savor the way she paused at the top, her hand outstretched to help him up even though they both knew he didn’t need it.

He took it anyway.

The path widened here, opening into a secluded platform overlooking the lagoon, the water below shimmering with the last of the afternoon light. She settled at the edge, her legs dangling over the side, her toes skimming the surface of the water. Neteyam lowered himself beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed with each breath.

The silence between them stretched, comfortable as the tide’s ebb and flow, until she kicked her heels lightly against the platform’s edge, sending ripples skittering across the lagoon’s surface.

She leaned into him then, her temple pressing against his shoulder, the warmth of her skin seeping through his tunic. The breeze carried the scent of salt and damp fronds, mingling with the faint smell of flowers she held before.

"Was it worth it?" she murmured, her voice barely louder than the lap of waves against the platform’s stilts below.

Neteyam tilted his head, his cheek brushing the crown of her hair. "Was what worth it?"

"The traveling. All those extra trips between the forest and here." She lifted a hand, tracing an idle pattern in the air as if mapping his route. "Just to see me."

He caught her wandering fingers, lacing them with his own. "You tell me." Turning her hand palm-up, he pressed a kiss to the salt-damp skin of her wrist, slow and deliberate. Her pulse jumped beneath his lips.

She exhaled sharply through her nose and twisted to face him properly, her knees bumping against his thigh. "That's not an answer."

"It's not?" Neteyam feigned innocence, his thumb brushing the hollow of her palm. "Seemed clear to me."

Her eyes narrowed, but the effect was ruined by the way her toes curled against his calf beneath the water's surface. "You're impossible."

"And yet," he murmured, leaning in until their foreheads touched, "here you are."

Her breath hitched, her fingers tightening around his. "Here I am," she echoed, softer now, the challenge in her voice giving way to something warmer, more vulnerable.

The moment stretched, suspended between them like the last ray of sunlight clinging to the horizon. Neteyam could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest against his, the faint tremor in her fingers where they tangled with his own. He wanted to memorize this—the way her lashes fluttered when she blinked, the salt-kissed curve of her lower lip, the way her pulse thrummed beneath his thumb where it traced idle circles against her wrist.

The tide had crept in unnoticed, the lagoon’s surface swallowing the last of the sun’s reflection as the sky deepened to indigo. She’d drifted off against his shoulder somewhere between the third retelling of his little brother’s latest mischief and his impression of Ao’nung’s face when he’d accidentally sat on a jellyfish. Neteyam hadn’t moved, not when her breathing evened out, not when her grip on his fingers loosened, not even when her head slid from his shoulder to the crook of his arm, her cheek pressed warm against his chest.

Her hair smelled of salt and something faintly sweet. Neteyam breathed it in, his thumb still tracing absent circles against her wrist. The village below had quieted, the distant hum of conversation replaced by the occasional splash of fish breaking the surface.

*Was it worth it?*

The question lingered, unanswered. He tilted his head just enough to press his lips to her forehead, featherlight. "Yeah," he murmured, the word barely more than an exhale. "Every time."

boyfriend!dick grayson x reader

silly texts with Dick! Hope you'll like it.