#not quite there yet but its heading that way

[iris-qt]

(𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚘) 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊

ᴘᴛ. ɪᴠ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ʜᴀʟʟ

❆ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍɪᴄ ʀɪᴠᴀʟꜱ | 4.2ᴋ

❆ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ᴍᴇᴅᴅʟᴇꜱ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʀɪɢꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʟʏᴛʜᴇʀɪɴ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ɢʀᴏᴜᴘ'ꜱ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ꜱᴀɴᴛᴀ ᴅʀᴀᴡ ʙʏ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇ-ᴜᴘ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ' ɢɪꜰᴛꜱ.

❆ ᴀ/ɴ: ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇɴᴅꜱ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʟʏᴛʜᴇʀɪɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʟʏᴛʜᴇʀɪɴ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴏɴ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴀ ꜱʟʏᴛʜᴇʀɪɴ…ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀɴɢ :)

You sat at the edge of the Slytherin common room sofa, clutching your tea like it was the only thing keeping you alive. It was the morning after the Yule ball after party. Across from you, Mattheo and Draco exchanged wicked grins, clearly enjoying your misery.

“So,” Mattheo started, leaning back with a dramatic sigh, “you and Nott put on quite the show last night.”

You groaned, already dreading the answer. “What kind of show?”

Draco smirked, arms crossed. “The kind where you stood on a table and declared yourself the better planner while Theo held your shoes like some besotted house-elf.”

“And,” Mattheo added, holding up a finger, “he called you a ‘menace to society’ before hugging you and insisting you were, and I quote, ‘his favorite menace.’”

You buried your face in your hands, muttering, “Please tell me that’s all.”

Mattheo’s grin widened. “Not even close. You two slow danced to Fein.”

Draco tilted his head thoughtfully. “It was...surprisingly elegant. For drunk people.”

You groaned louder, sinking deeper into the cushions. “I’m never drinking again.”

“Sure, sure,” Mattheo said with a wink. “But for what it’s worth, you two were kind of cute. In a trainwreck sort of way.”

…

The Slytherin common room glowed with the soft light of enchanted green candles, their flames flickering like fireflies. Subtle silver garlands draped the mantelpiece, and a small, elegant Christmas tree stood in the corner, its ornaments reflecting the ambient light.

Mattheo leaned over a table near the fireplace, shuffling scraps of parchment with exaggerated precision. Blaise lounged beside him, smirking knowingly, while Pansy twirled a quill between her fingers, her expression a mixture of skepticism and amusement.

“This is a terrible idea,” Pansy said, but she made no move to stop him.

“It’s genius,” Mattheo countered, lowering his voice dramatically. “Do you know how entertaining it’ll be to watch those two try to one-up each other? It’s a gift to us, really.”

Blaise chuckled, his eyes darting toward Theo, who was lounging in a nook by the window, a book open in his lap. “He’ll figure it out.”

“Please,” Mattheo scoffed, scribbling something on one of the parchments. “He’s oblivious. Besides, we’re doing this for their own good. They need a little...push.”

Pansy rolled her eyes but handed Mattheo the quill. “Fine. But if they find out, I’m blaming you.”

Moments later, the Secret Santa draw was underway. Mattheo went around holding out a hat with the scraps of parchment.

Theo unfolded his parchment, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he read your name. Y/N Y/L/N. A single brow arched, his mouth pressing into a line that teetered between annoyance and amusement.

“Of course,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers crumpling the parchment slightly before smoothing it out again. He glanced toward the center of the room, where you stood, laughing at something Pansy had said.

This is fine, he thought, leaning back in his chair with a casual air that betrayed nothing. It’s just Secret Santa. Nothing worth fussing over. And yet, he couldn’t stop the faintest smirk from tugging at the corner of his lips.

Across the room, you unfolded your parchment and let out a loud, exaggerated groan, not knowing Theodore was in an obscured nook by the window. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Mattheo’s head snapped up, his face a picture of mock innocence. “Problem?”

You glared at him suspiciously before holding up the slip of parchment. “Theodore Nott. Of course I get him. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Mattheo shrugged, biting back a grin. “Think of it as a challenge. You’re good at those, aren’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving the parchment into your pocket. “Great. I’ll just get him a rock with a bow on it. That should suit him.”

“Careful,” Pansy quipped from beside her. “He might actually like that.”

Theo, still seated in the window, closed his book and folded his arms, pretending not to overhear the exchange. A rock, was it? You really thought that little of him?

Fine, he decided. If she wants to play games, I’ll play them better. His mind began to race with ideas for the most ridiculous gift he could come up with. Something infuriatingly absurd, yet just clever enough to make you question everything.

Across the room, you were having similar thoughts, though yours leaned more toward humor than malice. He thinks he’s so composed, so untouchable. Let’s see how he handles this.

And so, as the rest of Slytherin celebrated the season, the rivalry continued, now disguised in tinsel and wrapping paper.

…

Theo’s Trip - Flourish and Blotts

Theo held up The Book of Forgotten Potion Ingredients like it was a priceless find. “This is perfect. She’s going to hate it.”

Mattheo peered over his shoulder, unimpressed. “Mate, she’s either going to think it’s an insult or start studying it just to spite you.”

“Exactly,” Theo said, smirking. “It’s a win-win.”

Mattheo leaned against a shelf, grinning. “Or you could buy her something that doesn’t scream, ‘I’m emotionally repressed and overcompensating.’”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Oh, and what do you suggest? A heartfelt sonnet?”

Mattheo smirked, crossing his arms. “Honestly? I think you’d pull it off. Something like, ‘Roses are red, potions are blue, I didn’t get you a real gift, but here’s some dusty old brew.’”

Theo groaned, shoving the book into his bag. “You’re ridiculous.”

Mattheo just grinned wider. “Hey, I’m just trying to help.”

Theo ignored him, but his eyes flickered toward the jewelry shop across the street. He thought about everything you two had gone through together this winter…

For a moment, he entertained the idea of buying you something meaningful. Something like a golden necklace with the snowflake charm he’d seen in a shop window earlier.

“No,” Theo muttered to himself, shutting the book with a snap. “Too soft.”

Mattheo snorted. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Let’s go.” Theo carried the potion book to the counter, his smirk firmly back in place, but the image of the snowflake necklace lingered in his mind.

Your Trip – Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions

You held up an ugly Christmas sweater, which was equal parts loud, ugly, and capable of blinding anyone who dared to look directly at it. “Perfect. He’ll hate it.”

Pansy tilted her head, her expression somewhere between horrified and entertained. “Are you sure this isn’t going to burn his retinas?”

“That’s the point,” you said, grinning.

Pansy raised an eyebrow. “You could just get him a nice tie or, I don’t know, something that won’t cause a medical emergency.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you shot back, tossing the sweater over your arm.

Still, as you and Pansy wandered toward the checkout, your eyes caught on a display of engraved quills. One in particular, a sleek emerald-green quill with silver accents and space for initials, stood out. You could already picture Theo’s smug expression when he opened it, pretending he didn’t love it.

“Don’t even think about it,” you muttered under your breath.

Pansy sidled up next to you. “What was that? Thinking about not being a menace for once?”

“Nope,” you said quickly, gripping the sweater tighter. “I’m doubling down.”

Pansy sighed dramatically. “Fine. But when he gives you a cauldron of frog guts in return, don’t come crying to me.”

Theo’s Trip – Flourish and Blotts

Mattheo trailed Theo like an annoying little brother, poking at books and loudly humming Christmas songs. “Still can’t believe you’re going with a book. Real groundbreaking, Nott.”

“It’s strategic,” Theo said, scanning the shelves. “It’ll throw her off her game.”

“Riiight,” Mattheo said, dragging the word out. “Nothing says ‘strategy’ like a dusty book. Oh wait…how about that necklace we saw earlier? You could blind her with sparkle and call it a ‘tactical advantage.’”

Theo didn’t bother responding, though his gaze flickered toward the window for a split second. The snowflake necklace gleamed in the afternoon light, and for a moment, he wondered if you’d like it.

“Focus,” he muttered, grabbing the potion book and heading to the counter.

Mattheo grinned. “You keep talking to yourself like that, and people are going to think you’ve finally lost it.”

Theo ignored him, but the necklace lingered in his thoughts longer than he’d like to admit.

Your Trip – Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop

Pansy tapped her black acrylics against the counter, watching as you hovered near the engraved quills. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“Nope,” you said, tone too quick and too defensive.

Pansy smirked. “Sure. Because that singing sweater you picked is so much better than a fancy quill he’d actually use.”

“That sweater is hilarious, and you know it,” you shot back, though your hand hesitated near the quill for a moment.

Pansy leaned in conspiratorially. “You like him, don’t you?”

You snorted, snatching up the sweater. “I like winning.”

Pansy sighed dramatically. “Fine, but don’t blame me when he sends a thank you card saying, ‘Thanks for the migraine.’”

You grinned, already imagining Theo’s reaction to the sweater. But as they left the shop, you couldn’t quite shake the thought of the quill and how much better it would’ve been.

…

The Slytherin common room hummed with warmth, both from the roaring fire and the laughter echoing through the space. The group was sprawled across the sleek black couches, surrounded by a chaotic assortment of wrapping paper and ribbons. Snow swirled lazily outside the enchanted windows, but the real storm was inside as Mattheo leaned over to inspect a particularly shiny gift bag.

“Alright, Blaise,” Mattheo said, smirking as he shook the small box in his hands. “You’ve been awfully smug. Let’s see what you’ve got for me.”

Blaise sat back, arms crossed, the very picture of calm arrogance. “Open it, Riddle. I’ll let the gift speak for itself.”

Mattheo ripped the paper off with exaggerated flair, revealing a sleek, leather-bound notebook with golden accents and his initials embossed on the cover. He flipped it open, and his smirk softened into something genuine as he noticed the enchanted pages glimmering faintly with protective charms.

“Well,” Mattheo said, feigning disbelief. “This is...almost thoughtful. Who are you and what have you done with Blaise?”

“Don’t get used to it,” Blaise deadpanned. “I just wanted you to stop scribbling on napkins like a heathen.”

The group erupted into laughter, and Pansy leaned forward, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Alright, my turn. Who’s got me?”

Mattheo handed over a perfectly wrapped box, the gold ribbon tied in an absurdly neat bow. “Me. And let me just say, Pans, it took everything in me not to prank you.”

Pansy tore into the package, gasping when she revealed an elegant jewelry box. Inside was a set of silver earrings shaped like miniature crescent moons, enchanted to shimmer under candlelight. She stared at them, momentarily speechless.

“Mattheo,” she said, uncharacteristically quiet. “These are...actually beautiful.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “What can I say? I’ve got layers.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “Fine. I guess I’ll keep you around for another year.”

Next up was Draco, who received a finely crafted dragonhide wallet from Pansy. It was simple, practical, and undeniably luxurious. 

Perfect for him.

“Well,” Draco said, inspecting the stitching. “This is...adequate.”

“Adequate?” Pansy echoed, throwing a pillow at him. “You’re welcome, Malfoy.”

When it was Blaise’s turn, Draco handed over a slim, velvet case. Blaise opened it to find a silver wand cover, its handle engraved with intricate serpent patterns.

“Figures you’d get me something this fancy,” Blaise muttered, but his faint smile gave him away. “Thanks, Malfoy.”

As the heartfelt gifts were exchanged, you and Theo exchanged quick, almost conspiratorial glances. Neither of you had spoken yet, but your smirks promised that whatever you two had planned for each other was about to be far less sentimental.

And far more chaotic.

…

The firelight flickered across the common room as the last of the "nice" gifts were unwrapped. Mattheo leaned back with a satisfied sigh, already flipping through his notebook. Pansy adjusted her new earrings in the reflection of a silver ornament hanging nearby.

“Well, well,” Blaise said, lounging on the couch. “That just leaves Y/N and Theo. The real show.”

“Wait, Theo has me?” you asked, brows shooting up in genuine surprise. You turned to Theo, whose smirk was annoyingly self-assured. “I should’ve known. Only you would be this quiet about it.”

“Quiet is my specialty,” Theo replied smoothly, handing her an ominously perfectly and pristinely wrapped package. “Merry Christmas.”

“Alright, Nott,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “What disaster am I about to unleash here?”

Theo leaned back lazily, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No disasters. Just a very practical gift. You’ll thank me later.”

You gave him a dubious look before tearing into the wrapping. Inside was a worn, ancient-looking book titled The Book of Forgotten Potion Ingredients. The pages looked like they might disintegrate if you so much as breathed on them.

“Wow,” you deadpanned, holding it up for everyone to see. “You really went above and beyond, Nott. How ever did you find something so...niche?”

Mattheo leaned over, pretending to inspect it. “Looks like he raided Snape’s trash pile.”

Theo’s smirk widened. “It’s a classic. Thought you could use it for some light reading, or maybe just to collect dust on your bookshelf.”

You flipped through the pages, expression morphing from amused to murderous. “You do realize this is all in Latin, right? You’re lucky I don’t chuck it at your head.”

“Go ahead,” Theo said, unbothered. “I’ll just dodge. Quick reflexes, remember?”

Across the room, Pansy nudged you with her foot. “Your turn to deliver, genius. Let’s see what you came up with for our resident gift expert.”

You handed Theo a brightly wrapped box, complete with a ridiculously oversized bow. “Merry Christmas, Nott. I hope you love it as much as I love my...Latin homework.”

Theo unwrapped it slowly, suspicion evident in his every movement. When he finally pulled the gift free, he froze.

It was a sweater. A bright, neon-green sweater with blinking red lights sewn into the fabric and “I <3 Xmas” embroidered across the front in glittering thread, distorted christmas music blaring.

The room exploded in laughter.

“Oh, this is perfect,” Mattheo howled, clutching his sides. “You have to wear it, Theo. You have to.”

Theo held it up like it might bite him. “You’ve officially outdone yourself, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, batting your eyelashes. “It’s all about the effort.”

���I’ll remember this,” he said, stuffing the sweater back into the box. “You’re lucky I have a sense of humor.”

“Sense of humor or not,” you said, smirking, “you’d better wear it at least once. It screams ‘Head Boy material.’”

As the laughter settled, Theo leaned forward, the sweater still dangling from his hand. His smirk softened, and his voice dropped just enough to catch you off guard.

“You know,” he said, holding her gaze, “as much as I hate this thing, I think it’s growing on me. Kind of like you.”

You blinked, caught between amusement and something else you couldn’t quite name. “Careful, Nott. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

Theo leaned back, the smirk returning in full force. “Don’t get used to it.”

You grin. “You say that all the time so maybe I should start getting used to it.”

The rest of your guys’ friends exchanged knowing glances, but neither you nor Theo noticed. The air between you two had shifted, just slightly, but enough to be undeniable.

“Alright,” Mattheo interrupted, breaking the tension with a wicked grin. “Next year, I’m rigging this again. You two are the gift that keeps on giving.”

You blanched, launching a pillow straight at Mattheo’s face. “You what? You rigged it?!”

Mattheo ducked, cackling like it was the greatest accomplishment of his life. “Of course, I did! Someone had to make this interesting.”

Theo’s jaw dropped as realization hit. “Wait…so all of this was your fault?!” He gestured dramatically at the sweater, the book, and then at you, who looked equally scandalized.

“Obviously.” Mattheo leaned back with a smug grin. “And you’re welcome.”

“You’re dead,” you snapped, diving for another pillow, which Pansy quickly swiped away to save her accomplice.

Theo stood, looking every bit like a man on a mission. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your last moments of peace, Riddle, because you’re going to need a Christmas miracle to get out of this one.”

Mattheo howled with laughter, darting behind Blaise, who casually sipped his drink. “You two needed this. You’re welcome for the character development!”

You and Theodore exchanged a furious look, then simultaneously lunged at Mattheo, who yelled, “I regret nothing!” as the chaos exploded around them.

The rest of the group watched the scene unfold, Pansy shaking her head. “Honestly, this is the best gift of the night.”

…

The Slytherin common room was quiet now, the faint glow of the fireplace casting warm shadows on the walls. Everyone else had retreated to their dorms, leaving you and Theo behind in an unexpected moment of solitude. Theo sat on the armrest of a sofa, fiddling with the cuff of his new sweater sleeve, while you perched cross-legged on the floor, fingers idly tracing patterns on the carpet.

“So,” you began, breaking the silence, “I might’ve gotten you something else. You know, since I didn’t want to be entirely insufferable.”

Theo’s gaze flicked to you, his brows lifting in surprise. “Something not made of obnoxious fabric?”

“Shocking, I know.” You smirked but reached for a small box you had tucked behind yourself earlier. “Here.”

Theo accepted the gift with careful fingers, his heartbeat inexplicably louder than usual. He unwrapped it slowly, feeling the weight of your eyes on him. When the paper fell away, he found himself holding an elegant black quill, its feather shining faintly in the firelight. His initials were engraved near the base in silver, subtle but striking.

For a moment, he was silent, running a thumb over the lettering. She noticed something as small as the way I write.

You watched him anxiously. “It’s…well, it’s practical. You’re always scribbling in those notebooks of yours, so I thought-”

“It’s perfect,” Theo interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. He met your eyes, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. “Thank you.”

You raised an eyebrow as Theo reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet pouch, holding it out to you. “If this is another prank, Nott, I swear-”

Theo smirked, his tone dry. “Relax. It’s not hexed. Just open it.”

You eyed him suspiciously, fingers brushing the soft pouch as you took it. “You better not be setting me up for something.”

“I guess you’ll have to trust me for once,” he said, his voice lighter than usual, though there was an edge of something in his expression you couldn’t quite place.

You snorted. “Trust you? After the Book of Forgotten Potion Ingredients stunt? Yeah, right.”

“Just open it,” he said, rolling his eyes but clearly suppressing a small, nervous fidget.

Curiosity finally won out, and you opened the pouch, breath catching when the delicate golden necklace with the snowflake charm slid into your hand. You stared at it for a moment, your words failing you. It looked expensive…solid gold and perfectly polished. Better yet, it was enchanted to change from gold to silver based on your outfit. 

Theo thought gold and silver both suited you perfectly, although gold reminded him of that spark. The fire in your eyes.

He shifted on his feet, trying to seem casual. “If you hate it, just say so. No need to make a scene.”

You looked up at him, completely thrown. “You…got me this?”

“Well, it’s not like I made it,” he said, avoiding your eyes. “But yeah. It’s yours.”

For once, you couldn’t come up with a snarky response. “It’s…actually really beautiful.”

Theo’s lips twitched, a flicker of relief crossing his face before he masked it with a smirk. “I’ll take that as a ‘thank you.’”

You narrowed your eyes, though the warmth in your gaze softened it. “I’m just surprised you have taste, that’s all.”

“Funny,” Theo shot back, his confidence creeping back. “But don’t get used to it.”

“Y’know, I’m starting to think that's your slogan now.”

Theo noticed you fumbling with the clasp and raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk softening into something closer to a smile. “Here,” he said, stepping closer. “Let me.”

You blinked up at him, caught off guard. “You?”

“Unless you plan to fidget with that thing all night,” he said lightly, his voice dropping as he reached for the necklace. “Turn around.”

For once, you didn’t argue, slowly turning your back to him. Your hair fell over your shoulders, and Theo hesitated for a moment before gently gathering it and brushing it aside. The warmth of his fingers lingered against your neck, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep your reaction in check.

He leaned down slightly, his breath warm near your ear as he focused on fastening the clasp. “You could say thank you, you know,” he teased softly.

“Don’t push your luck,” you murmured, but your voice had lost its usual bite.

“There,” Theo said, stepping back once the necklace was secure. The snowflake charm caught the light, resting perfectly against your collarbone. He cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze. “Looks…nice.” Perfect

You turned back to face him, one hand instinctively brushing the charm. “Thanks, Nott,” you said quietly, tone sincere enough to make his stomach do an unwelcome flip.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Seriously, don’t. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “I think it’s already too late for that.”

Theo shrugged, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “Yeah, well. You make tolerable look almost impressive.”

You raised an eyebrow, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “High praise coming from you, Nott.”

His gaze flickered to the necklace for a moment, then back to your eyes. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, his voice quieter now, the teasing edge softer.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the usual banter giving way to a silence that felt... different. Not uncomfortable, but charged with something neither of you were quite ready to name.

…

The Aftermath

The Hogwarts courtyard buzzed with its usual chaos, but Theo’s attention was elsewhere. You sat on a stone bench, casually flipping through your Charms textbook. The golden snowflake necklace glinted softly against your collarbone, catching the flicker of the sunlight. You weren’t even doing anything out of the ordinary, but Theo couldn’t stop the smug satisfaction curling in his chest.

She’s wearing it. She actually likes it.

He leaned back on his bench, feigning disinterest as he twirled his quill between his fingers. The initials T.N. engraved on the fancy quill gleamed, a quiet nod to the fact that you had been thoughtful enough to personalize it.

 He hated how much it made him feel things.

“Is that the quill I think it is?” Mattheo’s voice broke through his thoughts.

Theo didn’t look up, casually adjusting his grip on the quill. “It writes. What more could I want?”

Mattheo smirked, leaning over the back of the bench to get a closer look. “Oh, it writes? That’s all? No sentimental value? No swooning over the fact that Y/N engraved your initials? Nothing?”

Theo shot him a glare but didn’t bother with a response.

Meanwhile, Pansy had noticed your necklace and pounced. “Is that…wait a minute, is that what Theo got you?”

You glanced up, her fingers instinctively brushing the charm. “What about it?”

“Oh, nothing.” Pansy’s grin was wicked. “Just didn’t realize Theo had taste. Or feelings, for that matter.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “It’s just a necklace, Pansy.”

“Sure it is,” Pansy said, drawing out the words in a sing-song tone.

Across the courtyard, Theo was struggling to keep his expression neutral, but Mattheo wasn’t letting it go. “You’re dying to say something, aren’t you?” he snorted.

Theo finally relented, muttering under his breath, “It suits her.”

Mattheo blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. “You’re so gone for her, it’s embarrassing.”

Before Theo could respond, you stood up, casually walking over to him with your book still in one hand. You eyed the quill in his grasp, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “So, tell me, Nott. Are you going to write me a love letter with that, or is it just for all your other fan mail?”

Theo looked up at you, the necklace catching his eye again. The smirk tugged at his lips before he could stop it. “Says the girl accessorizing like she’s trying to impress someone.”

You arched an eyebrow, unbothered. “Maybe I am.”

Theo’s brain went blank, but he felt every nerve in his body spark to attention. You were kidding. Right?

But then you turned and walked away, leaving him staring after you, the smirk slipping from his face.

Mattheo clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re screwed, mate. Absolutely down bad, the both of you”

Theo twirled the quill again, trying to focus on anything else. Still, his eyes couldn’t help but drift back to you across the courtyard.

Yeah, maybe he was.

Taglist: @lazycrazyme, @lovrsm, @minhlajenni, @rafeluvrr, @mgchaser, @r6yven, @lazycrazyme, @ahead-fullofdreams, @alwayslatetothefandoms

Another big thank you to everyone who supports these fics... one more part left in the series!!

[strangely-written-desires]

CW: Non-Con, Aphrodisiac nectar/sap, Plant Monster

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI

You knew this was a mistake.

Hiking—venturing into unknown trails—was definitely not something you would consider, much less actually do. But your friends, however well-intentioned they were, insisted that you needed to go out and explore, venture outside of your comfort zone.

And so, in order to please them, you booked a guide (nothing drastic, really). It was apparently beginner-friendly, with beautiful scenery and ‘untold’ sights—a glorified leisurely stroll. It sounded perfect for you, a wonderful plan, so you went.

It was nice, manageable until you somehow—miraculously, stupidly—got lost, strayed from the group long enough that they left you in the dust. Finding them should’ve been easy; there were paved trails and distinct signs, yet you managed to get even more lost.

You didn’t know how long you’d been wandering, but you were hungry, thirsty, and tired; you just wanted to rest. How did your friends let you go to this with your incredibly poor sense of direction? How did you let yourself go?

You paused at the sound of rushing water, concluding it was a good idea to follow (you were dying for a sip of water.) It didn’t take long for you to find the source—the walk was not long at all, as if you were already heading in the right direction anyway as if something was already luring you there before the sound.

You stopped at a gate, seemingly golden and decorated with roses. It appears to be well-kept, no tarnish to be seen. Why exactly is there a random gate in the middle of nowhere?

With just the slightest touch, the gate creaked open (you could’ve hopped over easily if it didn’t), and you, with hesitance and confusion, entered. It was unlike anything you’ve ever seen before: a breathtaking garden full of flowers and trees filled with leaves and fruits. It was beautiful. The subtle scent of fruit and nectar only lured you closer.

The waterfall was the first thing you reached. You cupped your hands into a bowl to collect the water, drinking until you were no longer parched. Then you continued, admiring the colorful plants along the way.

You could feel your fatigue leaving you with each step, with each breath of air, yet the deeper you entered the oddly enchanting garden, the sweeter the air became—enticing. You didn’t hear the gate close behind you, too entranced by the view.

Your stomach grumbled, and all you could do was comply with your hunger, plucking a succulent fruit from one of the trees. The fruit was odd, unknown to you; it should’ve made you pause—sunk caution into your bones—but it didn’t. You were hungry before, but now, with fruit in hand, you were starving.

Your teeth pierced its flesh, its juices sliding down your throat as you devoured it. It was mouthwatering, a taste you had never known but now can never forget. You reached for another, and another, and another until you were full—stomach feeling as if it’s one fruit away from bursting. You took a seat, leaning against the trunk of the tree and resting.

You were worried about how you would get back, but you figured (in an attempt to stay positive) that they would eventually send out a search party and find you. After all, you found this place pretty easily, and you couldn't have strayed that far, right?

Your eyelids felt heavy; even with the sun still up, you felt exhaustion weighing on you. A small nap wouldn’t hurt.

You still felt so tired, not knowing you had already slept for jours. You felt warm, limbs heavy, and eyes feeling glued shut—wielded together with exhaustion and enervation. You didn’t move or shift; even if your mind was half awake, you couldn't.

That had a prickling thought of panic rising inside your brain, the rapid beating of your heart and the quickening of your breath being the only indication of your growing distress and anxiety. You couldn’t quite feel your surroundings, your sense of touch dulled, and the grass underneath you was not even a tickle.

A slight pressure met your lips, parting them delicately before slipping inside, stuffing your mouth full with its soft presence. A smooth substance glided down your throat; its taste was sweet and intoxicating. You gulped it down with no resistance, mind growing hazier with each drop.

The muscles in your limbs loosened, relaxing them, making you malleable and compliant. The heaviness faded into something else. You could feel yourself growing hot, arousal pooling in your underwear.

Something wrapped around your body, tugging at your clothes and removing them—taking your soaked panties and leaving you exposed. The thing inside your mouth slid out with a pop, retreating.

Then it—whatever ‘it’ is—raised you in the air, holding you by your legs, blood rushing to your head. You should’ve been alarmed, but with a brain full of cotton, all you could focus on was the throbbing of your cunt. You pried your eyes open, petals filling your vision. Vines enveloped you, blossoming flowers adorning it as it held you upside down, wrists tied together.

It spread your legs, one vine poking and prodding at your folds, soaking in your arousal. More vines slithered to your chest, fondling your breasts and curling around your nipples.

You squirmed, breathy moans leaving you. The vines continued, some slipping past your folds, one pressing against your clit while the other worked you open. You never felt anything like this before, moaning and whimpering for more.

It slipped out, having you clench around nothing with a whine. A large white bud blossomed in front of you, revealing (something you would’ve questioned more had the nectar not done its job) a flowery cock. It’s throbbing and warm as it enters your hole, fucking you with vigor and filling you with its sap, mouth falling open in a cry.

Another stuffs your mouth, and you greedily drink the liquid leaking from it, sucking and slurping with hot pleasure coursing your body. It pounds into you, its cocks hitting all the right spots as the vines fondle your breasts.

You scream when your climax hits you, the pleasure overwhelming as your body shakes and shudders, the flowery cocks following and spilling its seed inside you.

It seems the other plants in the garden grow curious, crowding you, feeling you all over, tasting your cum with its vines. They all take turns, another plant cock fucking you once the other ones are done cumming in you.

It repositions you, bending you over as some enter your ass, others shoving more vines down your throat. It’s all too much, making you cum too quickly from having the feeling of it in all your holes.

You have its sap leaking out of you, drooling around another cock as it takes you. It has you cuming over and over again, breeding you as your mind fizzles out from it, only caring about being fucked and filled.

This is all you are good for; this is where you belong, and it thinks so, too

[wandassweetheart]

WET WRATH!

pairing - bf!trevor x fem!reader

warning! - 18+ mdni, smut, shower sex, unprotected sex (avoid the dread, cover your head)

a/n - some fluff at the end where reader says “i love you” for the first time 🥹. also guys, this was my first time writing smut?! there’s defo more to come. anyways, enjoy!

“shit…” trevor drawls out as the water creates a wet, glistening look for your tits. his tits. he’d always prided himself when it came to your body, he worshipped it like it needed to be, because quite frankly in his eyes you were a goddess. and goddesses are worshipped aren’t they?

so now, as you both stood beneath the running shower head, his hands coursed around your waist and he coiled down so that his lips could reach the slip of your neck. his hard cock pushed against your back, the closer he pulled you towards him. steam clouded your vision as you rested your head back on trevor’s shoulder to give him more space to go further down your body. his one hand remained steady on your waist whilst the other snaked its way up to grope your tit as he still remained locked onto your neck. your hands find its way to his buzzed hair as you softly run them up and down, causing a groan from trevor.

the hand that was initially on your waist slowly slid its way down to your dripping, wet pussy. trevor lets out a low murmur, “see how much this body reacts to my fingers? haven’t even touched you with my cock yet, baby,” he mused. his fingers continued to slide down in between your folds, a quiet whimper escaped your parted lips, encouraging him to rub his fingers along your clit. his other hand progressively got rougher against your tits with every rub of your clit.

“inside, trevor… please?” you tried to form a coherent sentence, mind blank from the upcoming orgasm you were about to receive. “why don’t i give you my cock instead, baby? how’s that, huh? only for my girl ‘kay?” his fingers suddenly stop, making you whine from the sudden seclusion. instead, he picks you up and presses your back against the cold shower wall, you automatically wrap your legs around his lower abdomen and his hands reach your ass to steady the both of you. without another second wasted, he pushes his cock deep into you making you shriek with pleasure and him groan against your skin.

“your pretty pussy ‘s always so tight for me.” trevor lets out a shaky breath before thrusting his hips back and forth into you. “fuck, trevor!” you cry out and his thrust become more fast paced. both your breaths were hot and heavy disguised by the vapour the hot water let out. “y’like that, huh baby?” trevor let out in between deep kisses. “yes,” is all you could manage to whisper as your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the intense pleasure. trevor’s stamina wasn’t giving in but soon enough it was going to let out. his hands now started to knead your ass, you could feel the bruises starting to form but all you could think about was how good he was making you feel. you’d never had anyone like trevor.

“shit, trevor. i’m gonna cum…” you moan out, your head hits his shoulder as you prepare for the oncoming wave of pleasure. “me too baby, hold on f’ me, okay?” trevor quickens his pace even more which you didn’t even know was possible. “c’mon baby, y’ ready? cum for me.” trevor gives you his permission and with that your body spasms beneath his, your legs start shaking from the immense satisfaction. “shit, shit, shit!” trevor yells out. his thrusts become sloppy and slow as he gives one final push and you can feel the warm fluid heat up inside you.

trevor slowly sets you down, yet still holds onto your fragile, shaken body and lets out a soft chuckle after turning off the shower. “y’ okay, baby?” he asks, as you both step out and he wraps a fluffy towel around you. “i’m okay,” you reply with a tired mumble. he starts to dry you off carefully, setting you down on the counter. “love you, trevor.” you say quietly, not having really said those words to anyone. trevor is taken slightly aback but then smiles down at you.

“love you too, baby.”

[dark-and-kawaii]

Yuji stood just outside Nanami's and your home… his knuckles hovering over the wooden door, hesitant to knock. Each breath he took formed clouds of fog that hung in the air. He could feel it as he stood, felt the weight of his body and the chill that enveloped it. It felt heavy... Everything felt so impossibly heavy...

The silence that greeted his knock felt different, more final. Peeking through the window, he could see how still everything was, how quiet the house was for once, your usual playlist was absent, leaving an emptiness that seemed to echo… 

“Ohh~ Why hello there young man~!” 

A fragile voice had startled him from his thoughts. It was an elderly woman that emerged from behind the large rose bushes you and Nanami had planted together just last spring. She was small, barely reaching Yuji’s chest, her weathered hands trembling slightly on her cane as she shuffled closer. Her eyes held so much warmth- so much kindness and excitement that made Yuji’s chest tighten. 

“If you’re looking for Mrs. Nanami, she left in quite a hurry this morning~!” her voice quavered with joy, unaware of how each word drove daggers into Yuji’s grieving heart. “I’m not certain where Mr. Nanani is, but oh i do hope he made it in tim-”

“Please!” Yuji’s voice cracked, panic clawing its way up his throat, “Is she alright!?” His hands shook as images of curses and blood filled his mind of the worst possible outcome, “Where is she!?-” 

“Hush now, dear child,” The old woman's face softened into a gentle smile, “She’s at the hospital just down the way. The baby decided to come early!~” She clasped her hands together in delight, “I can hardly wait to see them come home- all three of them together! If it’s a boy, he’ll surely have his father’s handsome features!”

Yuji felt the world tilt beneath his feet. He bowed his head, shoulders hunched as if to shield his face from the truth he carried… Every word this woman spoke was another weight added to the crushing truth of what he knew- of what he had to tell you… His fingernails bit crescents into his palms, drawing blood he couldn’t feel though the numbness.

“Kento’s always been so quick to be by her side you know? it’s strange he wasn't there this morning, but ohhh~ I’m sure he was already at the hospital waiting for her~” The woman's voice continued, distant now, as if coming through water, “It must be nice having such a man like that, heavens sake, just last week when she was struggling with groceries he help-” 

Her voice faded into the background as memories flooded Yuji’s mind… How Nanami would adjust your scarf while the three of you were out on cold mornings, the way his usual stoic expression softened at the edges when glancing your way… The way his hand would absentmindedly touch your growing belly, as if to reassure himself you and his unborn child were still there… And now, because of one moment, one curse… he would never meet his child. Never know if they had his eyes, his smile, his quiet strength or your features and kind heart… 

At the hospital, through the crack in the door, Yuji saw how you were curled around your newborn daughter, your finger caught in her tiny grasp. The golden sunset painted you in a warm light, and despite your exhaustion, you were absolutely glowing…

“We did it, Kento,” your whisper carried through the door, “we have a beautiful baby girl.” Your smile, so pure and unaware, shattered what remained of his composure. “Hurry back from your mission so you can meet her… We’re waiting ♡.”

Outside your hospital room, Yuji stumbled back, tears burning trails down his cheeks as he bit his lip until it bled, trying to stifle the sobs threatening to break free. How could he tell you? How could he destroy this perfect moment with the truth that Nanami- your Kento, your daughter’s father- had been torn apart by a curse… How could he explain that your “waiting” would be eternal…?

He couldn’t. Not yet…

As he wandered the hospital halls, he noted all the beautiful details Nanami had ensured would surround you during this moment. The butterfly sanctuary, the library, the gardens. Even when it came to you birthing his child, Nanami had thought of everything- had wanted everything to be perfect for you.  

When Yuji finally entered your room, you were sleeping, your daughter nestled against your chest- a mother and child portrait of serenity. He noticed how your daughter’s wisps of hair caught the moonlight, the same shade as Nanami’s… The sight drove the air from his lungs. His body finally giving in and collapsing into the chair beside your bed, Nanami’s final moments- final words replaying in his mind… “You’ve got it from here, right? And please, watch over them.” followed by the visceral memory of blood spraying across the walls, of flesh tearing, of a good man’s last breath given to the thoughts of the family he’d never see again.

“Mmn’ Y-Yuji?” Your voice, still heavy with sleep, froze him in place, his heart stopping as your eyes fluttered open. “M’where’s Kento?” 

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by your daughter’s first cry- as if she somehow knew, somehow felt the weight of what was about to destroy her mother’s word forever… Yuji’s throat closed around the words he couldn’t say, tears spilling over as he faced the impossible task of telling you that Nanami Kento would never come home again… And then he saw it- watched how realization dawned in your eyes as the blood stained necklace with Nanami’s wedding band slipped from his pocket… 

[wheneclipsefalls]

Little Gift - Snap

Summary: Your temper may be your down fall.

Warnings: DUBCON / NONCON, MDNI, aged up characters, NSFW, explicit content, kidnapping, rough, humiliation, alien/human relationship, swearing, power imbalance, yandered qualities, posessive behavior, dom/sub dynamics, punishment, etc.

A/N: Happy New Years, my lovelies ;)

Adult Neteyam pic by Cinetrix

Little Gift Masterlist

For lack of a better, less vulgar term, pussy whipped is how you would describe Neteyam. From the first time he sheathed himself inside your tight warmth there has been seemingly nothing else on his mind but a repeat. And while your lips spew endless complaints and cursed remarks, the honey between your legs is all the encouragement he requires. 

It's frustrating. Draining. Yet an inconvenience that is hard to voice properly when your legs are trembling around his waist and synapsis going off like fireworks until the post orgasmic haze drowns you in its wake. There is nothing left but the caress of his skin. The hardness that fills you to the brim. Even the taste of his seed coated along your tongue and throat. 

He has become your inescapable vice

There are benefits, however. Because when you're lying there with nothing but static bliss lining your consciousness, Neteyam swarms in that bliss too. And it’s only taken two days to identify that as the opportune time to sway his decisions.

Neteyam will never let you go. That is a reality you have begrudgingly come to acknowledge. 

But there are ways to coerce him into giving you certain privileges. A few sweet words with his cock still sunk inside of your heat and you had secured a new, more modest, loincloth and more importantly, your precious music box. This new sway was slowly making your life in the Olo’eyktan’s grip more comfortable. Perhaps too comfortable. 

When eclipse’s glow glimmers through the marui walls and a warm large frame curls around your form as you sleepily watch the ballerina twirl, it's hard to keep that small smile from your lips. Difficult to yearn for the nights you spent alone in your twin sized bed with only the cold metal walls for company. And even when the Olo’eyktan’s deep voice rumbles that it’s time for sleep and a hand reaches over to shut the box, you can’t stop yourself from following his command as skilled fingers run through your hair. 

You’re losing the battle but that won’t keep you from fighting to win the war. 

Snuggling in Neteyam’s grip may have its perks but there are still constant annoyances that strengthen your disdain for this new life. The biggest of which being his younger brother. The same male that had not only watched you struggled upon the tarmac of Bridgehead but happily participated in your humiliation without a second thought. Perhaps your hatred would not run so deep if Lo’ak had at least shown an ounce of shame for his actions but his demeanor proves to be quite the contrary. 

You haven’t spoken to him since the RDA’s departure, nor do you want to, but Lo’ak is always there. In the midst of bustled village life his eyes pin on you. With Neteyam is dragging you along the forest floor with a firm grip on your wrist, Lo’ak’s lips curve into that same cocky smirk. 

Avoidance is the strategy you cling to so when Neteyam wakes to inform you of your babysitter for the day, panic springs forward quickly. To your dismay even the sweetest words and filthiest of touches does not sway Neteyam from his decision. Lo’ak has once again become your default supervisor after the stunt you had pulled with Spider. 

Pussy whipped he may be but even Neteyam reaches his limit after too much whining and begging. A firm promise of punishment if you continue is what it takes to finally stop your coercion. 

So here you sit. Defeated and silent in Lo’ak’s marui, counting down the hours until Neteyam returns. 

Lo’ak, who tends to a simple meal over the flames, periodically burns his attention into the back of your head. Fighting the urge to squirm under the awkward circumstances you opt to distract yourself by observing his humble abode. It’s different from Neteyam’s. Where the Olo’eyktan must have everything in its rightful place and organized at all times, Lo’ak is at ease with some clutter and a relaxed space instead. The only items that have a strict placement are the guns hung across his wall. No doubt high enough to be out of your reach. 

“Is this how it’s going to be?” 

You don’t respond, motionlessly faced away. 

“Silence forevermore to punish me for my actions?” Lo’ak lets out a mocking sigh of sadness. “However will I survive?” 

It takes effort to halt your teeth from grinding. Na’vi senses are much more responsive to sound than your own and you’ll be damned if Lo’ak gets even an inkling of how much he is bothering you. Like a statue, you remain still and silent. 

“Although I’m not sure how good of a consequence it is. It may be nice having some peace from your constant whining.” 

Despite your better judgment you sneak a glance at him from the corner of your eye. As expected, Lo’ak is on his haunches over the fire with an ease only he can muster under the tension in the room. His tail curls casually along the floor but his ears are perked, awaiting a response. 

This is only meant to get a rise out of you. It seems bugging you is one of his favorite past times so bugged you shall not be. 

“Or maybe this is my reward instead, for bringing you to such bliss.” He muses and heat rises like an inferno along your skin. The vein along your forehead becomes more pronounced. “What can I say? I believe in the importance of a woman’s pleasure.” 

Rage springs you to your feet in an instant, turning on your heel to glower at him. 

“I was in trouble and you took that remote and-”

“And helped you enjoy a moment that would have otherwise been depressing for you. Something I wouldn’t have to have done if you hadn’t decided to come watch the torment yourself.” He quips back, brows raised as he holds your stare. 

Small hands clenched into fists, you can’t stop your feet from stomping towards him. 

“You are an absolute idiot!” 

“Maybe so but even an idiot like me can see right through you.” 

“Is that so? And what wise insight does the mighty prince have on me?” You sneer, watching his tail perk up at the sound. 

“I saw the way you looked at me.” 

You can feel your expression falter as your mouth runs dry. 

“What?”

“I saw the way your eyes wandered and hungrily took in every inch of me. Even better, I could smell the shift in your scent, the stronger perfume it took on.” It’s his own eyes now that dilate and pin you into place. Much like his brother, Lo’ak has a knack for sending a devilish shiver just from the fixation of those golden orbs. 

“You’re crazy.” Swallowing the saliva pooling along your tongue, you take extra care to keep yourself from stuttering. Especially when Lo’ak slowly takes a crouched step forward. Stubbornness keeps your feet planted. 

“For a moment I thought the guards would be the only thing keeping you back from crawling to my feet.”

“Fucking delusional asshole you-”

“That’s not a criticism, tawtute.” Lo’ak’s holds his hands up in surrender. “Neither is it a complaint.” He shrugs, carefully bringing him one step closer. Suddenly you are regretting not fighting Neteyam on taking your breathing serum this morning because that glass mask would at least provide some illusion of protecting your personal space. “But it is hypocritical to chew me out for playing with that remote when you were drooling over me the entire time. Don’t you think?”

Perhaps being around the Na’vi has caused you to pick up more of their habits than you’ve realized because at those words you can feel your own lips curling back, ready to bare your blunt teeth in a vicious snarl. Keeping a cool composure is seeming less and less enticing with every word that comes out of Lo’ak’s twisted lips. 

“I think Neteyam will have quite a few things to say when I tell him his younger brother has been lurking too close for comfort.” You grit out between clenched teeth. Lo’ak doesn’t meet your anger with his own. In fact, it is the glimmer of mischief remaining in his features that has your rage reaching new levels. It’s difficult to control your temper when those pearly whites are flashing back at you with glee. 

“Well,” One last step and you can feel the brush of his breath. “Lucky for you when Neteyam is in a good mood he has been known to share.” 

It’s difficult to say which actions set you off. Perhaps it’s his insinuation or maybe the way Lo’ak’s eyes bare into you without a flicker of shame. But whatever it is, one thing is for certain, you wish for nothing more than to wipe that grin off of his face. To make him hurt.

Those wishes, however, are what has your body moving on instinct instead of reason. Because before you can blink your hands are wrapped around the one vulnerability Lo’ak has, the only way to make him hurt. His kuru. And the next, your teeth are viciously sinking into that thick braid. 

That grin is whipped away and with it comes a shout that echoes through the village. 

It’s too late to go back now. Once the adrenaline, anger, and temporary triumph at seeing Lo’ak crumple has dissipated you are left to stew in the reality of your situation. Neteyam is going to whip your ass. And with your hands tied to a stump outside of the healer’s tent while Lo’ak is treated there is very little you can do to stop that. 

More likely than not, Neteyam already knows what has occurred. A few Na’vi had flown off mere seconds after Lo’ak had entered the tent and you would bet your right hand they were looking to report to the Olo’eyktan. So he knows.

Just because he knows the story, however, does not mean there isn’t a chance to tell it from your perspective. Preferably before a certain Omatikaya prince spins it his way. So as your palms become sweaty and the minutes pass by, your eyes roam the forest like a guard dog on watch. They search for the very first glimpse you can catch of Neteyam, your first lines of defense locked and loaded. 

When Neteyam’s ikran lands you hastily sit up on your knees. He walks with a purpose, long legs carrying him towards the tent at a pace you would never be able to match even without being tied in place. 

“Neteyam!” You call for him, tugging at the bonds. Golden eyes flicker your way but his expression remains blank. “He was taunting me!” Perhaps not the best defense at a time like this but the lack of Neteyam’s attention has you blurting out the first thing to come to mind. “He was saying all of these awful-”

“Stay here, pet.” He says evenly as if you have any other choice with your wrists tightly binding you into place. And that’s all you receive before he is ducking into the tent. 

Time ticks by at a taunting pace. Every minute that those voices rumble from the tent in a foreign tongue is one minute more that you are left to hypothesize what punishment awaits you. You’ve acted out before, escape attempts, attitude, starving yourself, but nothing like this. Besides the consequences of tricking Spider you’ve never gone out of your way to hurt someone else. All of those past episodes have been solely focused on running away. 

Neteyam has been very clear on how he feels about such disobedience, but this infraction is new territory. Territory you should have never let yourself fall into when you’ve seen how creative Neteyam can be. Dread sinks low and deep as you sit there staring at the canopy above. 

There’s no guessing what tale Lo’ak is weaving inside of that tent but you can only imagine that the other Na’vi exiting to give them privacy is a bad sign. Their voices are kept low, not that it matters when they remain speaking in the Na’vi tongue. Every now and then you hear your name thrown into the mix. At some point it starts to feel intentional, yet another way to have your anxiety spiking.

You’re sorry.

You really are.

Sorry that your own temper has landed you into this mess and sorry that all the odds are now stacked against you. Is that not enough? You’ve been a dutiful ��pet’ for Neteyam these past few days, despite your own objections. You haven’t tried to run away in almost a week now and you’ve even taken a break from ripping apart the bow Neteyam ties around your neck. 

And perhaps, if Neteyam knew better than to leave you with his arrogant little brother there would be no injury in the first place. One Sully male is enough to deal with, but two is where you draw the line. Two sets of golden eyes that see right through you. Two nearly identical smirks that fall into place the second you are trapped into feeling your body’s natural needs. 

Lashing out at Lo’ak may put you in deep water with Neteyam, but maybe if you’re lucky it may also keep his brother off your back for a while. Give you a moment to breathe away from that penetrating gaze. 

Neteyam’s footsteps interrupt your train of thought. Scrambling to sit up again you rush to get a few words out, but he is faster. The Olo’eyktan unsheathes his knife, cuts your bonds and calmly takes a hold of your arm.

“Teyam,”

“Time for dinner, pet.” Pulling you gently onto your feet your neck cranes to get a better look at his expression. Nothing but a cool exterior to observe and while the absence of red hot anger should be relieving it has a countering chilling effect instead. 

That aloof composure remains throughout dinner even as your explanation spews out messily. Neteyam doesn’t respond, doesn’t react. He simply eats.

And that detached presence sends goosebumps along your arms. 

You never thought you would come to this point, but you start to wish instead for him to lash out. Perhaps sink you under his larger frame and give you that scolding look that still holds a shadow of amusement. You would brace yourself for a night of pleasure and pain mixed into one and then it would be over by morning. But this…

The way he’s casually sipping at his cup of pxir feels so jarring you can barely cope. Anything is better than trying to navigate the unknown. You start to wonder if he has even heard a word you’ve said. 

“You need to eat.” That deep voice has you perking up immediately. 

“I’m not very hungry.” Not with your stomach doing somersaults in anticipation. However, Neteyam’s mask splits for a moment to give a knowing look that reminds you exactly what happened the last time you tried to starve yourself. Taking the hint and not wanting to dig your hole even deeper you quickly reach for a piece of fruit and plop it into your mouth.

Apparently it is not enough since the male reaches over with one arm and swiftly lifts you up onto his lap. 

“I can-” Another look. “Fine.” You relent, letting the Olo’eyktan feed you piece after piece by hand. 

Feeling his warmth pressed against your back is strangely comforting. You blame it on forced acclimation. Regardless, the silence is torture and your mind has already done enough of that on it’s own, thinking up every possible outcome that awaits you. 

“Are you even mad at me?” You blurt out. Neteyam’s hand pauses from reaching up to your lips with another piece of fruit. “I mean, am I in trouble?” 

“You are.” When that piece of fruit fits past your lips the tips of his fingers linger on your tongue a tad too long. Neteyam’s braids brush over your shoulder, colorful beads clanking together. 

“Okay so then, can we talk about the consequences?” The last thing in the world you wish to discuss but perhaps it’s too late to negotiate getting off scot free. You may as well strive to lessen the repercussions. “Because I am sorry, Teyam. Truly-”

“I’ve already decided on your punishment.” Not a sliver of cold malice or dark intent in his nonchalant tone. 

“Alright,” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Can you perhaps enlighten me on what that will be?” It’s a struggle to keep your voice even and calm. Is he drawing this out on purpose? What is the point? Push you into a panic attack?

“After dinner you are going to apologize.” 

“But Neteyam I am so-”

“To Lo’ak.” 

You spot said person across the fire. He chats warmly with friends and family nearby but there is a bandage woven into his braid just barely noticeable. You have blunt human teeth. He is sure to heal within a day or two with little discomfort. 

“Is there any alternative?” Neteyam's face swings down into view and your script changes immediately. “Yes, apologizing...yeah that,”You clear your throat. “That sounds very reasonable.” 

 The rest of dinner is spent trying to conceal your sour disposition as Neteyam traces teasing circles along your legs and inner thighs. It’s a confusing set of sensations and emotions that ultimately have your heart rate racketing higher steadily. There are times where you wish dinner to never end and others where you are chomping at the bit to get things over with. 

The most disturbing, however, is that voice in that back of your head saying this has all been too simple. Apologizing to Lo’ak will be by far one of the most humiliating things Neteyam has ever made you do but surely he has more in store for you after that. The eldest Sully son is too elaborate and thorough to let you off the hook so easily. 

Whatever Neteyam has brewing for you after this apology is sure to be something that will allow very little sleep tonight. 

Neteyam waits until the last embers of the fire have burned out. He warmly bids several Na’vi goodnight and well wishes and even volunteers to help clear away the dinner supplies. Lo’ak is nowhere in sight, although you can’t remember at what point he had left the scene. Still kept under the Olo’eyktan’s watchful eye from a distance you endure yet another round of drawn out waiting. 

For a moment you are tempted to hope that Neteyam has forgotten all about the apology. Or perhaps Lo’ak has somehow become preoccupied and his absence will be your saving grace. 

That hope is foolish and fleeting. You know better than to assume short memories when it comes to the Sully men. So when Neteyam reaches his hand down and you sheepishly take it, you prepare yourself for the long road ahead. 

Village life is dying from a simmer into a low hum as families tuck away into their marui. Only a few stragglers are dotted along the forest that Neteyam leads you through. The path is not one that you recognize, however it slowly becomes clear that the two of you are heading away from the village. It leaves an eerie feeling in your bones. 

Neteyam has promised to never allow harm to come your way but…you bit his brother today. Would that be a sufficient reason for him to lose patience with you all together? And if so, what would disposing of you entail? Facing the tip of a Na’vi knife or being set free into that dangerous den that is Pandora? 

Subconsciously, you tuck against his side for comfort. 

This is paranoia speaking. The predictable culmination of your worries and anxious thoughts to form a spiral you can tumble down. Recognizing this does not slow down the beat of your heart but it does help your mind grab on to the tangible facts. 

Just one simple apology then you can take on the rest afterwards. 

Away from the bustle of the village and deep settling fires, you can only depend on eclipse’s glow for visual. Which is why you hear Lo’ak before you spot him. He sets rippling waves along the river to your right, his silhouette just barely visible in the dim glow as he emerges calmly. Squinting your eyes, you can see him lazily running a hand through his braids, pushing them away from his face. 

“You actually showed up.” He calls, although you can’t quite tell if he is talking to you or Neteyam. Long, leisurely strides take him back onto shore. Proximity allows your eyes to become snagged on the trails that drops of water create along his sculpted torso all the way down to his thighs. 

“Don’t patronize. Oeyӓ tiyawn [my love] is nervous.” Neteyam replies and immediately you look up at him in silent betrayal. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t bother to veer his gaze away from his brother, instead just absentmindedly running a hand through your hair in comfort. No, to stroke you like a true pet. 

Perhaps the nature of this punishment is more psychological than physical after all. Humiliation is sure to be a dutiful reminder to behave. 

It sure feels that way when Neteyam settles a hand on your upper back to gently push you forward with an encouraging, “Go on, pet.” 

Lo’ak, still squeezing the water from his braids, takes a seat on a nearby stump. Legs spread and brows raised, he waits expectantly. The idea of clawing his eyes out looks all the more appealing with every passing second. At least then you would find a reprieve from that sparkling look of sinister mischief. The way the corner of his lips twitch as if fighting back a smirk makes you feel that much more on display, and that much more ready to resort to violence. 

“Little gift.” Neteyam calls in reminder, a steel edge starting to lace his patient tone. 

Gritting your teeth, you avert your gaze away from the male in front of you in hopes of finally forcing the words out. 

“I’m sorry.” Spoken between your teeth, it’s barely comprehensible. You don’t need to look at Lo’ak to feel the amusement rippling from him. No doubt the bastard is happily enjoying your struggle. 

“Speak up, tiyawn.” Neteyam coaxes, although both of you know there is no need. Na’vi hearing is easily sharp enough to pick up on what you’ve said. 

“I am sorry.” You breathe out on an exhale. “I shouldn’t have bit you.” 

Squeezing your eyes shut your brace for the imminent teasing. He is bound to make some snarky comment or quipping tease but that doesn’t mean you have to look at him while he does so. 

“Hm, that’s alright, tawtute [human]. We all get a little wound up at times.” Although upon peeking one eye open that lazy grin is in place, there is no other retort tacked at the end. And for a moment it seems that Lo’ak is not even bothered by what has happened. That only makes you more uneasy. 

“That’s my good girl.” The sensual praise brushes your shoulders, quickly making you realize how close Neteyam now kneels behind you. “Now give him a kiss.” 

You screech out of Neteyam’s embrace, flipping around to face him at breakneck speed. “What? No!”

That patient mask is still in place, although Neteyam lets out a small sigh. Surely this is a joke, a mean one that you wouldn’t put above either of them playing. You wait for Lo’ak’s laugh. Wait for Neteyam’s possessive reassurance that your lips only touch his. 

Neither come. 

“Don’t be difficult.” 

Lo’ak’s earlier claim echoes in your head. The same one that had tipped you right over the edge into biting him. 

“Neteyam’s been known to share.”

“No! No way. Forget it! Spank me, fuck me do whatever you want but I am not kissing him.” Face now inflamed into a bright red, you point an accusing finger back at the younger brother. Lo’ak bites back a smile, leaning back against the tree. 

When you attempt to stomp off in a dramatic exit, Neteyam easily scoops you back into place with one arm. A firm grip on your hips keeps you facing him. 

“You have options, pet, but not many.” That velvety voice lowers into a rough timber you’ve grown accustomed to. Always the first sign that you are stepping into dangerous territory. “You can apologize properly or we can look into taking away some special privileges you’ve seemed to have taken for granted.” 

One hairless brow raises and suddenly you know exactly what privilege he speaks of. 

You inhale sharply. Your music box. That damn music box that you’ve become so attached to that even the thought of him putting it back at Bridgehead makes you hold back a whimper. You never should have let him to know how deeply you care for the thing. Better yet, you never should have allowed yourself to become so dependent on a single object. 

However, there is no changing that now. Caught between a rock and a hard place your features soften into a pout. 

“Teyam pl-”

“I’m not interested in negotiations. Take your pick.” Although stern, his composure doesn’t hold the same dark glint it does when you’ve truly pushed him too far. Neteyam kneels there firm, but patient. Even his tail curls and swings leisurely along your thigh. 

He knows how this is going to play out. He knows the leverage he holds so there is no point in wrestling you into submission. You’re going to do it on your own, pout and all. More than anything you want to prove him wrong. Lift your chin, tell him to do his worst and stomp home without another glance at Lo’ak. 

But you don’t.

Instead you shuffle to turn back around at the speed of a sulking child. Arms crossed and glare blazing, you finally face the other brother reluctantly. That large hand spans across your upper back to give you a small push forward. Not willing to go down without a fight, you keep that screwed expression in place even as Lo’ak’s attention burns through you. 

Even when he leans forward from his sprawled position to rest those alien hands across his upper thighs and close some of the distance between you. Even when his tail suddenly tickles at your upper thigh with a softness that almost has you stumbling backwards in surprise. 

You can feel it falter, however. That burning anger struggles to overpower your ever raising nerves. So when you are finally standing between Lo’ak’s spread legs you rush to get the deed done before those nerves get the best of you, showing your cards for both males to see. 

Lifting onto your toes, you leave a peck on his cheek so fast that neither of you can comprehend it before you are turning back towards Neteyam. Lo’ak’s barely stifled laughter is met by a dark chuckle of the Olo’eyktan’s own. Although, the elder Sully tries to keep his amusement to a minimum as he spins you to face back around again. 

“A real kiss, tiyawn.” 

“I did what you asked and-” a fierce grip catches your chin, before you are met with the Olo’eyktan’s stern expression invading your space. With lips just mere inches away from your own, Neteyam’s clutch may as well be a chokehold with the way it dissipates the air from your lungs. 

It is times like these that you remember who exactly is your captor. He infuses your time together with occasional softness but there is no forgetting the true predator that lies beneath. He is not just any warrior. Neteyam is Toruk Makto’s firstborn, Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. The same clan that had run off everyone you knew from this planet. When glimpses of that man come forward, your tough facade cripples beneath him. 

“Now now, let’s not scare her too much. You said she’s nervous after all.” Lo’ak breaks the tense moment with a casual drawl. For once, you're grateful for his teasing. Less grateful however at the feel of his four fingered hands coming to rest on your hips to turn you around, the softness of his touch creating an inferno of sensation rippling through your body. “Unlike you, I promise not to bite.” 

His lips curl into a crooked smirk as his tail playfully swishes behind him. The bastard is enjoying this far too much, but you’re not sure which brother is worse to face at this moment. Lo’ak’s cocky dose of humiliation or Neteyam’s dangerous threats of retribution. It feels as if neither will leave you the same you were before tonight. 

A third hand clamps around the back of your neck, veerring you forward. And this time, you don’t wait to be told twice. 

Your lips softly brush against Lo’ak’s own. A part of you wonders if your trembling has reverberated even to your lips where he can feel. Lo’ak, however, is surprisingly gentle and slow as he follows your tentative kiss. It’s not the usual possessive claiming that leaves your head spinning and thighs clamping together. Nor are your soft lips put under torment of nipping teeth that love to tease. 

No, it’s gentle. Almost intimate. 

Utterly terrifying. 

A rough push at his shoulders releases you from that kiss. Your chest siezes in efforts to slow your breathing down and not let either see your body’s betrayal at that tantalizing kiss. Regardless, you know it won’t matter. If your scent isn’t already ripe with your arousal, surely your rapid heartbeat is enough to give you away. 

Neteyam’s chest rumbles against your back in a deep chuckle, Lo’ak’s own eyes lit with mischief connecting with his brother’s over your head. 

“See? Nothing to be afraid of.” Lo’ak coos, but there is a huskiness to his voice that raises the hair at the back of your neck. And then the soft brush of his fingers on your hips becomes claws that dig into the plush flesh and drag you forward. 

A squeak can barely rip from your throat before your lips are back on his again. This time, all semblance of innocent affection is lost. Lo’ak’s lips enrapture your own into a kiss that can only be described as filthy when his quick tongue swipes past your bottom lip and devours you whole. 

If you were to be told earlier that your day with Lo’ak would end with his tongue in your mouth not only would you have not believed them but the idea of it would have been disgusting. Surely you would have imagined a scene that would liken him more to the sleazy drunk men that had made moves on you during late nights at Bridgehead. Just another horny male to try sticking his dick where it isn’t wanted. 

And God, do you wish that were reality.

Because a horny douchebag is so much easier to handle than the incarnation of sinful temptation that ropes around you now. So much easier than trying not to preen against the ministrations of a skilled mouth and plump lips. So much easier than resisting the urge to run the tip of your own tongue along those pointed canines. 

Lo’ak may have a big mouth, but it seems that all of his talk of pleasuring women comes from actual experience. He knows which button to press, knows the perfect combination of soft and rough touches to make a female drown in his embrace. 

And drown you do as another talented mouth trails along your spine, teasing you with the soft brush of his lips until your body is practically begging for the next laid kiss against your skin. It’s an attack from both sides. Trapped between two ravenous Sully men until you are unable to peek out from their shadows. 

Neteyam’s large hands skate over every inch of your exposed, trembling, body while Lo’ak remains dedicated in his task of stealing the very air from your lungs. It comes on all too fast. While Neteyam is the master of taking your heated emotions and slowly making them blossom into unriddled desire, it seems that both of them together have that shift acting at the speed of an exploding bomb rather than a nurtured flower. So alarming that it has your mind reeling in its pathetic attempts to keep up. 

There is no mercy to be found from these towering aliens.

Even at the few points where Lo’ak lets you gasp for air, the hand that had become tangled in your hair finally letting off on the pressure, it’s only in favor of lapping his tongue over your constricting throat. 

“No marks.” Neteyam’s growled reminder barely processes through your already hazy brain. Even less so Lo’ak’s perturbed hiss before your lips are captured once more.

Scrabbling for what’s left of reason is a practice you are accustomed to when beneath the Olo’eyktan, pussy split on his cock, but never from something as simple as a heated make out session. But simple it is not, when two predators nip kiss and suck at your body as if savoring their well hunted meal. 

A breeze brushes past your entrance. Lo’ak chuckles when you break the kiss to look down and find that his brother has already discarded your loincloth. Your ankles cross on instinct, a mistake when the younger Sully tugs you forward and that position only makes you fall against his chest. 

“Mawey [be calm], pet.” Neteyam soothes, running a hand over your head. 

“But-”

Your protest is cut off when the Olo’eyktan suddenly replaces Lo’ak’s hands at your hips and lifts you up until you are settled onto the other male’s lap. They work together to wrestle your legs over each side of Lo’ak’s thighs. Thighs that then part to keep you spread and bared for them. 

“That’s a good girl.” You can’t even muster the strength it takes to act offended at Lo’ak’s condescending praise. There is barely enough time to grip his shoulders for stability before he is devouring you again. 

This has been well planned, that you are for certain of because as Lo’ak consumes you in a feral kiss meant to leave your lips ruby red and attention completely taken, Neteyam makes quick work of unthreading your complicated top. They work together like a well oiled machine. 

The Olo’eyktan lets out an appreciative groan, ears perking atop his head. He gives no warning before he is twisting around you to reach your right breast with his teeth. It digs into the plump flesh just beneath your pointed nipple, leaving behind an indent that is sure to be unmistakable. Lo’ak laughs against your lips when you accidentally chomp down on his bottom lip.

This bite is far more welcomed. 

Your treacherous pussy is wet enough to leave sticky arousal marking your inner thighs. There is nothing but the night’s breeze to caress your erect clit and entrance that is already clenching around nothing. So when the familiar brush of rough fingerprints with scars made from a bow’s strings circles around your dripping petals, you give a knee jerk reaction. 

Lo’ak swallows your moan only to react with his own when you claw into his hair for stability. Unfortunately the first piece you find just happens to be that thick braid. And while you were mere seconds away from finally having your begging clit played with, it’s the bite of a sharp sting that your sensitive sex is met with instead. Neteyam sends three spanks straight to your raised clit until your thighs are flexing in an attempt to snap close, a task impossible with Lo’ak’s own legs keeping you spread. 

Neck complaining with the strain, your head is yanked back and fingers disconnect when you are met with hard golden eyes. Lo’ak is either unbothered or knows better than to disturb his brother when in this state because his busies himself teasing and plucking at your nipples. 

“Did I say you could do that?”

“N-no.”

One of Neteyam’s hairless brows curves upwards expectantly. 

“No, Olo’eyktan. I’m sorry.” You quickly correct, voice catching when Lo’ak takes your left nipple between his teeth. 

Unshed tears gather in your eyes and you’re sure that the display of both submission and wrecked expression is enough to show that you meant Lo’ak no harm. Or at the very least you were in no state to do any damage, despite your desire otherwise. 

However, that is not enough. Apparently nowhere near what Neteyam needs from you, evident in the way he yanks you back and crashes your lips together. The tuff of his tail tickles your inner thigh as it wraps around your leg. There is no hope of keeping up with the fervency of Neteyam’s lips, teeth and tongue as he infuses every animalistic instinct into that kiss. It’s as if something has possessed him. 

You’ve seen Neteyam loosen the reins of his control. You’ve seen desire come to shine forth in the lustful actions he has succumbed to before, but he has always been in control. Calm, even as he has split you open on his cock time and time again. 

But this. 

You’ve never seen him like this, an utter slave to his instincts. 

“Get her ready.” The sharp demand Neteyam bites is not slow enough to allow you a single breath before he is diving back in. Your neck aches and thighs tremble at the awkward angle, but suddenly that angle is changing. 

Lo’ak easily throws a leg over each shoulder, lifting your lower body to his face while Neteyam keeps your upper body supported with a hand to your spine. The coordination leaves you spit roasted between the two of them, body dangling over the ground like a ragdoll. 

Neteyam is deaf to your silent pleas of being let down even as your clawing nails reach back to bite into his shoulders. What little threat they are when your weak nails won’t even be able to break skin. Just as weak as your dull teeth to Lo’ak’s queue. Painful perhaps, but nothing close to permanent damage. 

And it dawns upon you then, the same moment that Lo’ak’s tongue swipes playfully at your clit until you spasm. This isn’t about Lo’ak being hurt. Perhaps it never has been. Neteyam knows just as well as you that there is no real damage you could impose upon him.

No, this is about what you touched. What your teeth had sunk into when meanwhile your fingers have hardly ever ventured to explore his own. 

Another male’s queue. 

The neural chord associated with sacred mating among the Na’vi and not only had you been caught touching another’s, but your teeth had sunk into it. 

Finally released from his lips to let out a screeching moan, you crane to get another look at Neteyam’s handsome features. Reading him tonight is easier than it ever has been. The sharp lines created from a clenching jaw and eyes made of golden steel confirm your theory without doubt. Tonight isn’t about your pleasure, even as Lo’ak’s tongue licks a broad stripe from your entrance to clit. It isn’t even about an apology. 

Tonight is about proving a point. 

You wish to get ahead of what is to come, plead your case now that you understand the core issue better, but when your lips part all that comes out is a wrecked whine. Lo’ak pushes that first digit past your weeping entrance until it hits the first knuckle, and then the second. It’s nothing compared to that stretch that you have now become accustomed to performing but that never seems to stop you from feeling that exquisite burn every time. A true shock to the system.

With features set into stone, Neteyam slowly lowers you down so that your upper back rests upon his propped knee. This puts your lower body up higher than your upper as Lo’ak slurps at prods at the sensitive flesh between your thighs. A provocative display that Neteyam takes in calmly. He doesn’t look down as you squirm and whine atop his knee, just places one firm hand down over your bare chest to pin you into place. His thumb, however, does find its usual place swiping over the soft ribbon tied into a bow around your throat. 

“Fuck, she’s so tight.” Lo’ak exhales, your juices shining over his lips like a pretty sparkle of lip gloss. You try not to let that image stick in your head. No male has the right to look that beautiful after such depraved actions, especially someone as annoying as Lo’ak. “This little pussy can barely take a second finger.”

It does, however. A mortifying squelch sound created from your dripping core as you suck the second digit in. 

“My little pet knows how to stretch.” Neteyam purrs, eyes still watching between your legs as his knuckles pet over your flushed cheek. 

You gasp when Lo’ak curls his fingers and instantly finds that special spongy spot inside. Wrenching up from where you lay across the Olo’eyktan’s knee, you fight to get air back into your lungs properly. 

“Stop squirming.” Neteyam’s demand is accented with a sharp slap to your inner thigh, a sensation that only has you writhing more. 

“Is this a little too much for you, tawtute?” Lo’ak coos in a fake pout. “A few Na’vi fingers in this tiny cunt and you can’t even hold still like a good girl.” Those plump lips spread with your arousal pout as he tutts in mocking disapproval at you. 

If there was any hope of Neteyam protecting you from his brother’s teasing it is cut short the second his own dark laughter joins the mix. A blush spreads down from your cheeks to the very swell of your breasts. That heat only intensifies when the Olo’eyktan’s fingers brush over the area in awe, reminding you of how exposed you truly are between them. Every little reaction is a display for their amusement. 

“Come now, pet. Show Lo’ak how well your little demon pussy can take it.” 

“Tey..I-I…Teyam!” Whatever plea you had hoped to construct morphs into a drawn out moan of his name once Lo’ak wedges a third finger into your tight entrance. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t hide his pleasure at hearing you moan his name. Meanwhile you happen to catch the hint of annoyance Lo’ak shows at his older brother’s name raining from your lips when it is his fingers bringing you such pleasure. 

“Having fun, tiyawn?” Neteyam’s lips spread into a sinful display, sharp white teeth shining under the moonlight. The pads of Lo’ak’s fingers sensually rub at your inner walls, sending a tremor up your legs. “Of course you are. This is the attention you were begging for after all, isn’t it?”

You shake your head with a whine. That, however, only earns a sharp flick to your right nipple. 

This had never been your intention. Piss off Lo’ak, finally give him a peace of your mind? Absolutely. But being strung between these two Omatikaya warriors to be used as their amusing little slut had not been your vision. 

And yet….there is nothing else that can fill your mind, your body lighting up at every humiliating comment and sensual show of power exerted towards you. 

Lo’ak wiggles his fingers into a steady scissor motion. That burn has a whimper choking in your throat but it’s Neteyam that has your attention. That handsome face floats above you, the moonlight creating a false hallo atop his neat braids. Wriggling beneath such an exquisite creature has never felt so intoxicating. 

“Open.” As if spoken like a magic spell, your mouth hangs slack immediately. It’s worth the look of approval that carves into those magnetic features before he is slipping a thumb across your tongue. He taps your cheek in warning when you try to close your lips once more. 

A bead of saliva coats his thumb as he presses down on that wet muscle. Then, performing once more in their perfectly coordinated dance, Lo’ak’s presses his own thumb against your pulsing clit. 

The sound that rips from your throat is debauched, utterly inhuman. With Neteyam pressing down on your tongue there is no way to stifle it, so your whine rings true and free through the air. 

“Fuck, so pretty.” Lo’ak groans and you can’t be sure if he refers to your spew of moans or rather the sight of your drenched pussy clamping around his digits. Drool now travels past the corner of your lips. Just barely on the cusp of an orgasm. One more little push needed that you have no way of asking for. 

Neteyam chuckles when your eyes shoot open suddenly. There is a fourth intrusion, a fourth finger you are not accustomed to receiving. Confusion ripples through your features followed by another wave of bliss as Lo’ak sinks in the last finger. 

Sky Demon blood. 

Not the surprise you had accounted for. 

There is just enough common sense left to remember you need to ask for permission to come. Neteyam shows no mercy, keeping his thumb pressing your mouth open as you try to form pleas for release. 

“Have you earned it?” Neteyam asks.

A trick question. The correct answer may very well be the one that denies you an orgasm but answering otherwise could bring consequences that are already stacking at an alarming rate. 

Tears welling in your eyes, you manage to shake your head softly. 

“Of course not.” Neteyam sighs. His tail tickles at the sensitive flesh of your right side. “You haven’t been a good pet for me today, have you?”

The question is not rhetorical; you are silently informed when his thumb gives a few taps against your tongue. Sheepishly you nod and give out a gurgled apology. 

“She seems sorry.” Lo’ak pipes up. “Aren’t you, little demon?” Your back arches when he curls all four fingers against your inner walls and pressing down on your clit with his thumb. It urges the appropriate response, however, apologies flowing freely. 

“I think she wants to be a good girl now.” He adds and Neteyam studies your features to see if his brother’s assessment is correct.

“Then a good girl she will be.” 

That appears to be the cue Lo’ak had been waiting for. Those long blue fingers curl and rut up into your poor cunt vigorously all while drawing fast circles on your little pearl. The orgasm that rips through your body is explosive. Your legs strain and shake. Your mouth parts on its own into a cry even once Neteyam has removed his thumb. 

That pace continues until you are begging to have your overstimulated pussy left alone. Your head is stuffed full of cotton. Body buzzing so intensely in that afterglow you don’t register when Lo’ak finally draws his fingers out or how you become manhandled into a new position. The first sensation to make sense is a sudden kiss Lo’ak places on your lips before pulling away. 

You think that perhaps your punishment is over, but the younger Sully is setting himself back on that stump, eyes trained upon you intently. 

Neteyam has you sat on his lap, legs spread to bracket his muscular thighs and back pressed against his chest. Thick gollops of your pleasure run down your inner thighs to fall atop what you now realize is the Olo’eyktan’s uncovered cock. That bulbous tip now sprouting a bead of precum just barely jerks to tap your clit. 

Lo’ak is now back a few feet from where you and Neteyam are intertwined but he may as well be pressing a magnifying glass against your skin with the way his attention zeroes in on you. His own loincloth remains on but his right hand palms at the obvious bulge there. 

“What’s wrong, pet? Feeling too shy for an audience?” 

“Y-yes.” You mumble, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“Hm, that’s too bad because I’m especially inclined to show you off tonight.” 

It is only the arm cinched around your waist that keeps you from being impaled on his impressive length. Your nails create half moons in Neteyam’s forearm where you grip. 

“Now,” His voice darkens. “I am going to breed this slutty hole.” He gives your dripping pussy one gentle pat with his fingertips. “Going to fill it with my seed until it is properly wrecked. Lo’ak is going to watch. And you, what are you going to do?”

“Be g-good.”

“Close, little gift.” The head of his cock presses firmly against your pulsing entrance until it slips past. “You are going to give him a good show. Let him see exactly whose cum your tawtute cunt yearns for.”

Something close to awe ripples in Lo’ak’s expression as you are lowered down on the Olo’eyktan’s massive length, inch by inch. You try not to picture the crude presentation you must exhibit for his eyes as your stretch to accommodate Neteyam’s familiar shape. 

“Y-yes Olo’eyktan.” The wet gushing sounds that your cum and arousal make once you are finally lowered to the base has your eyes cinching shut. You hate how addicting this sensation is. Hate even more how eager you are to reach another climax, even eager to feel the warmth of the male’s seed blossom within you. 

“And why is that?”

The question doesn’t quite make sense. Whatever string of thoughts you had started knitting together fall to shambles when he begins lifting and lowering you up and down is cock in a steady pattern. 

Thank God, Neteyam decides to not make you answer, because your attention is already caught by Lo’ak sliding a hand beneath his loincloth. 

“Because I’m in charge, little gift. You are mine to use. Mine to love. Mine to share.”

You can feel every ridge and curve of him carve along your gummy walls. Etching a reminder of who owns you so thoroughly with every stroke. 

Lo’ak’s member curves along his stomach. Bioluminescent stars freckle over the sensitive skin. They disappear and reappear periodically from beneath his fist that grips and slides around his cock. 

“I decide who touches you. I decide who watches you.” Neteyam’s hips roll up just as you are dropped down to the base again. “And that means I also decide who you touch.”

Lo’ak’s teeth flash in a grin when he notices your intense gaze on him. It wipes away quickly when he interrupts himself with a rough groan and throws his head back in ecstasy. 

“Do you understand, pet?”

You’re not sure where your burst of confidence comes from. Perhaps it stems from Lo’ak whose hips buck up into his hands as spurt after spurt of his orgasm spray. Maybe it’s the deep roll of Neteyam’s hips that becomes frantic the more you squeeze around him. The idea that both brothers are about to find their peaks at the mere sight and feel of you is exhilarating. 

So instead of answering his question verbally, you instead shakily reach back to grab the Olo’eyktan’s kuru. Neteyam’s back goes ramrod straight, his thrusts becoming shallow. Then before you can change your mind, you swing the braid over your shoulder and push back the hair to properly examine those dancing tendrils. 

Neteyam’s head falls against your hair, voice dropping into the most sexy husk of breathing you have ever heard. And that’s all the encouragement you need before lowering the tendrils to wrap around your right pointed nipple. 

Pointed electricity spikes through every sensation. A zap of such pure bliss that it almost hurts. Neteyam counteracts this overstimulation with a deep moan and warm seed that bursts into your core just as you're spiraling over your own cliff. 

You don’t realize you’ve blacked out until voices slowly wobble into your consciousness. 

“Tie it back.” Neteyam instructs. It’s followed by a tickling sensation at your throat as the ribbon shifts. There is no energy left to spare on opening your eyes but you can feel cradling hands and hot water swimming around you. A hot springs then. 

“Perfect little thing,” comes Lo’ak’s voice next. 

And that is all you can decipher before blissful sleep enraptures you once more. 

Hope you enjoyed! Interaction means the world to me so please comment, reblog, or send me an ask with your thoughts<3

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[leona-hawthorne]

FICMAS #11— IS IT NEW YEARS YET? / theodore nott

december 31st

theodore nott x reader

summary: after the shittiest year of his life, theodore turns to you to make his new years one of a kind... based on the song 'is it new years yet?' by sabrina carpenter!

warnings: fluff, drinking, kissing, swearing

words: 4k

a/n: last fic of the year!!! so insane, i love you all sm 🥹🤍

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Theodore had always been good at pretending. For years, he’d kept himself locked behind a cool, unshakable exterior—the kind of calm that made people either envy him or wonder if he cared about anything at all. But tonight, even that mask felt brittle, cracked at the edges, much like the rest of him.

“Remind me again why we’re here?” you asked, leaning against the frosted window of the Astronomy Tower. The glow of enchanted lanterns cast a soft light over the room, catching in your eyes, and for a moment, Theo thought it might be enough to distract him from the ache in his chest. Almost.

“Because you insisted,” he replied, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. 

You arched a brow, your breath fogging the glass as you tilted your head to glance at him. “I insisted you spend New Year’s Eve somewhere other than brooding in your dormitory. I didn’t insist you drag me up here to freeze.”

His lips tugged into a faint smirk, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thought you liked the view.”

“I’d like it better if my fingers weren’t turning blue,” you retorted, pulling your coat tighter around you.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Theo like this—quiet, withdrawn, carrying a heaviness that made it hard to meet his gaze for too long. The past year had gutted him in ways he wouldn’t talk about, and you’d learned not to push. Still, it hurt to watch him disappear into himself, piece by piece, especially when you knew he wouldn’t let anyone else pull him back.

Theo leaned against the opposite wall, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, his posture casual, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. His gaze flicked briefly to the courtyard below, where the rest of the school gathered for the New Year’s celebration. The laughter and cheers floated up, muffled by the tower’s height, and Theo’s scowl deepened.

“I just didn’t want to be down there,” he muttered finally.

You didn’t press for more. You didn’t need to. The holidays had a way of making the lonely feel lonelier, and while Theo would never admit it aloud, you could see he was tired of pretending he wasn’t one of them.

“It’s a stupid holiday,” he added, his voice low and rough from too many sleepless nights. “All this talk about new beginnings, fresh starts... it’s bullshit.”

You exhaled sharply, half amused, half exasperated. “You’re starting to sound like an old man.”

“Maybe I feel like one.” His smirk this time was wry, almost self-deprecating. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those ‘new year, new me’ people.”

You shrugged, leaning back against the window and fiddling with a loose thread on your sleeve. “Not exactly. But I think people need something to hold on to, even if it’s just an excuse to drink champagne and pretend next year won’t be just as bad.”

He let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Optimistic as ever, I see.”

You smiled faintly, the corners of your lips quirking up in a way that softened the air between you. “Well, someone has to balance you out.”

That earned a genuine smile, fleeting but real, and for a moment, the heaviness in the room seemed to lift. It was like this with Theo—comfortable in a way you couldn’t quite explain. He’d been in your life long enough to know when to push and when to let you sit in silence, and you’d learned to do the same for him.

But tonight, there was something restless about him, something in the way his fingers tapped against the railing or how he kept glancing at the watch on his wrist. Midnight was creeping closer, and with it, the end of the year he clearly wanted to forget.

His gaze lingered on you for a beat too long, and though the heaviness in his expression didn’t vanish, something in it shifted—faint, fleeting, but enough to make your chest ache. 

“What would you do,” he said suddenly, leaning his forearms on the railing, “if you could start over? Like, really start over. No past, no expectations—just… blank.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “You mean, if I could erase everything?”

“Not erase,” he corrected, his gaze fixed on the shimmering stars above. “Just… leave it behind.”

You hesitated, your stomach twisting at the thought. “I don’t know if I could. Even the bad stuff… it’s still part of me, you know?”

Theo’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he nodded slowly, as if he’d expected that answer but didn’t know what to do with it.

“You’re overthinking again,” you said softly, looking down at the wooden floor. “It’s New Year’s, Theo. You don’t have to have it all figured out tonight.”

“I don’t have anything figured out,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve got me. That’s something.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fall away, a heavy silence settling over the two of you.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked, breaking the silence. “Brood until midnight and call it a success?”

“Sounds efficient.” He lifted a bottle to his lips, taking a slow sip before adding dryly, “What were you expecting? Streamers? Confetti?”

“Maybe a little less gloom.” You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “It’s New Year’s, Theo. You’re supposed to be… I don’t know, hopeful or something.”

“Hopeful,” he repeated, like it was a word in a foreign language. “Yeah, maybe next year.”

You rolled your eyes, but the frustration in your voice was half-hearted at best. Theo had been like this for weeks—withdrawn, sharp around the edges, like he was daring someone to try and cut through. And if anyone was stubborn enough to try, it was you.

Pushing away from the window, you stepped closer until you were standing in front of him. “You know, if you wanted to wallow in misery, you could’ve done that without dragging me into it.”

Theo tilted his head, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “And miss the opportunity to ruin your night? Never.”

You scoffed, though your lips twitched upward despite yourself. “So, again I ask, what’s the plan? Sit here, sulk, and drink yourself into oblivion?”

“Pretty much,” he said with a shrug, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

You crossed your arms, meeting his eyes evenly. “I do, actually. But it involves you putting on something other than that sorry excuse for a jumper.”

He glanced down at himself—oversized knit, fraying at the cuffs, like he’d fished it out of a charity bin. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Everything,” you said flatly. “Get up. We’re going out.”

Theo groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’re relentless.”

“And you’re boring.” You shot him a pointed look. “Come on, Theo. Don’t make me start this year regretting that I wasted my night on you.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his dark eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. “Fine,” he said with mock exasperation. “But if I hate every second of it, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal.” You grinned, and this time, it reached your eyes, warm and teasing in a way you knew would get under his skin. “Now hurry up. Midnight’s not going to wait for you.”

Theo groaned for the fifth time in as many minutes, his breath fogging up in the freezing night air. "Tell me again why we couldn’t just stay in the tower?"

You shot him a glare, tightening your scarf around your neck. "Because, Nott, there’s only so much of your self-pity I can take before I start considering throwing myself off the Astronomy Tower."

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Theo’s smirk was sharp, but there was no real malice behind it. It was the kind of banter that had always come easy between the two of you—even if, lately, it felt like you were the only one trying to keep it alive.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart,” you shot back, falling into step beside him as the two of you trudged down the snowy path toward Hogsmeade. 

Most of the village was still alive with revelers spilling out of The Three Broomsticks or clustered around the twinkling fairy lights strung up in the square. You glanced over at Theo, who was walking beside you with his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. His expression was unreadable, his jaw tight, but at least he’d come without too much of a fight.

“Seriously, though,” you said after a moment, nudging his arm with your elbow. “Why do you hate New Year’s so much? It’s not like anyone’s expecting you to make a big speech or kiss anyone at midnight.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he deadpanned, shoving his hands deeper into his coat pockets. “And for the record, it’s not just New Year’s. I hate most holidays. They’re all the same—just another excuse for people to pretend their lives aren’t completely miserable.”

You rolled your eyes, though there was a part of you that couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. Theo had always had a way of looking at the world like it was already halfway broken, and this year, with everything he’d been through—especially being home with just his sorry excuse for a father—it was hard to blame him.

“Not everyone’s as cynical as you, you know,” you said, your tone softer this time. “Some of us actually enjoy the whole ‘fresh start’ thing.”

“Yeah?” He glanced over at you, one eyebrow raised. “And what’s your big resolution for the year, then? Start reading your Potions textbook before the night before exams?”

You snorted. “Not quite. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Theo didn’t reply, but there was a flicker of amusement in his expression that made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you were starting to chip away at that armor he’d wrapped himself in.

“This feels like a mistake,” he muttered as the two of you stopped in front of a pub that was noticeably rowdier than the others.

“That’s because you think everything fun is a mistake,” you shot back, grinning as you pulled the door open. The warmth hit you immediately, along with the unmistakable scent of spiced cider and butterbeer. Laughter and music spilled out into the street, and you gave Theo a look. “Come on, live a little.”

“Live a little,” he echoed dryly, but he followed you inside anyway. The pub was cramped and noisy, filled with students and villagers alike, their laughter and chatter blending together in a kind of chaotic harmony. Someone in the corner was strumming a guitar, and a group near the bar was singing along with a warbling charm. Theo scanned the room, his expression bordering on skeptical. “This is your grand idea?”

You rolled your eyes, dragging him toward the bar. “Yes, and you’re welcome.”

It took some effort, but you managed to snag two seats at the end of the counter. The bartender—a cheerful woman with rosy cheeks and an apron dusted with flour—came over almost immediately. “What’ll it be, lovebirds?”

Theo’s brow arched slightly, and he opened his mouth to protest, but you beat him to it. “Two Firewhiskeys, and keep them coming.”

He gave you a sideways look as the bartender bustled off. “Bold choice. Didn’t know you could handle your liquor.”

“I can’t,” you admitted with a shrug, the corner of your lips twitching upward. “But if I’m spending New Year’s with you, I might as well make it interesting.”

That earned a quiet laugh, soft and unexpected, and for a moment, Theo almost looked like himself again. But then the drinks arrived, and the reality of the night crept back in.

The first round went down easy. The second was harder. By the third, Theo had stopped pretending he wasn’t enjoying himself, though he still had that guarded look in his eyes, like he was bracing for something to go wrong.

“Okay, your turn,” you said, pointing at him with your mug. “If you had to make a resolution—”

“Which I don’t,” he interrupted.

“—but if you did,” you continued, ignoring him, “what would it be?”

“Not to make resolutions,” he replied without missing a beat.

“Cop-out,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “Come on, there’s got to be something.”

He hesitated, the edge of his glass resting against his lips. For a moment, you thought he might brush it off entirely, but then he set the drink down and exhaled slowly. “I guess… I’d like to stop feeling like this.”

“Like what?” you asked gently.

Theo’s gaze dropped to the counter, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “Like I’m carrying around a graveyard.”

The weight of his words settled between you, heavy and unspoken. You wanted to say something—anything—but nothing felt right, so instead, you reached out and placed your hand over his. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to make him look up.

He sighed, running his other hand through his hair. “And maybe… Maybe try not to fuck up as much this year.”

The words were casual, but there was something raw in the way he said them. “Theo…”

“Don’t,” he said quickly, holding up a hand. “It’s fine. Just drink your butterbeer before it gets cold.”

You frowned but didn’t push, instead lifting your mug and taking a long sip. If Theo wasn’t ready to talk, you weren’t going to force him. But that didn’t mean you were going to let him wallow in silence, either.

“You’re not alone, Theo,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the noise of the pub. “I know it feels like it sometimes, but you’re not.”

His lips parted, but whatever he was about to say was lost in the din of laughter and clinking glasses around you. He stared at you for a long moment, his blue eyes searching yours, and you could see the crack in his armor, the rawness he tried so hard to hide.

Before he could respond, the bartender came back with another round, breaking the moment. Theo pulled his hand away, and you let him, though you couldn’t help but notice the faint pink that had crept into his cheeks—not from the alcohol, but from something deeper, something unspoken.

As the minutes ticked closer to midnight, the pub’s energy seemed to swell. The noise was deafening—laughter and shouting from every direction, the clinking of glass, the music blasting from somewhere, and the din of excited chatter about the year ahead. You felt like you were drowning in it, and, for a brief moment, you regretted pulling Theo into this madness. He was still fidgeting, his eyes darting around the room like he was searching for an escape. 

“So,” you began, nudging him again, this time a little harder than before, “you ready for this?”

Theo shot you a sideways glance, his lip curling slightly in amusement. “For what, exactly?”

“Midnight,” you said, as though it should be obvious. “You know, the whole New Year’s thing?”

“Right,” he muttered, not looking at you, instead staring down at his drink. “Still not feeling it.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, leaning in, voice dropping into something softer, “you’re not getting away that easily. You promised me fun tonight, remember?”

Theo’s eyes flickered up to yours, and for a split second, you thought you saw a hint of hesitation in them before it was quickly replaced by something more guarded.

“Come on,” you said, nudging his shoulder. “We’re leaving.”

Theo didn’t even look at you, just let out a half-exasperated, half-amused scoff. “Leaving? What are we—”

Before he could finish, you grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the door. “Come on. I know you’re not having fun in here.”

He barely put up a fight. You both stepped outside, the cold air biting your skin immediately. You ignored the shiver down your spine as you led him toward the back of the pub. There was a small alleyway that led to a ladder up to the roof—a place you had discovered on a whim during a previous trip to Hogsmeade. 

He froze at the sight. “What the hell are we doing?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “I want to see the fireworks. Alone. On the roof.”

Theo looked at you for a moment, tilting his head as if he couldn’t believe you were real. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Dead serious,” you said, reaching up to grab the ladder and stepping on. “Come on!”

“I’m going to regret this,” Theo muttered as you started up the ladder, his voice a little strained as he climbed after you.

“No, you’re not,” you replied, trying to sound more convincing than you felt. “It’s just us, no crowds, no noise. I need a break from all of this... chaos.” You glanced over your shoulder, catching his eyes briefly. “I know you do too.”

There was a long pause before he muttered a soft, “Fair enough.”

The climb wasn’t long, but by the time you reached the rooftop, the chilly wind was already biting, and you couldn’t help but huddle in your coat as you looked out at the glittering view of the village below. The cold didn’t bother you so much now, though. The sound of the laughter and chatter from the pub faded into the distance, and for a moment, there was just the two of you, standing under the vast, starlit sky. 

Theo joined you on the rooftop with a sigh, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He didn’t speak at first, just stood beside you, looking out at the distant lights of the village. You let the silence stretch between you, the air sharp with unspoken thoughts. 

“How’s this?” you said, attempting to break the tension. “Better?”

“Much,” Theo said with a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Still don’t know why you were so keen on climbing a roof, though.”

“I like the view,” you said, scanning the horizon. “And the fireworks are supposed to start soon. Thought it might be nice to see them from up here.”

Theo didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stood next to you, his body tense as he stared at the lights of the distant village, his face softening in the cool wind.

“You ready?” you asked, turning to look at him.

He snorted quietly. “Ready for what? My so-called ‘fresh start’? Sure.”

You chuckled. “Whatever. So what’s it going to be? Resolution time?”

“I already told you,” he muttered, his voice low. “Not a fan of resolutions.”

“Right, right,” you teased, nudging him again. “Sticking with the ones from before?”

“I don’t know,” Theo said, turning slightly to face you. “I guess, it’d be to stop wasting my time on things that don’t matter.”

Your heart skipped a beat, though you couldn’t quite tell if it was the alcohol or the weight of his words that made the air feel so heavy. He was looking at you now, his gaze intense, but you didn’t look away.

“Wasting time, huh?” You smiled softly, the words feeling like they were meant for more than just a joke. “Guess that means you think I’m a waste of time, then.”

His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes flickered to the dark sky, the distant rumble of the fireworks growing louder. 

“No, I just…” he said quietly, almost as if he wasn’t really talking to you. “Maybe that’s what I’ve been doing, though. Wasting time... pretending I don’t care about things that I do.”

You swallowed hard. “Theo…”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, the words seeming to get tangled up in his throat. “I don’t know, okay? It’s just... this year was shit. I’m not even sure how to look at next year, let alone what I’m supposed to care about.”

You took a step closer to him, feeling the distance between you shrink just a little. “Well, you care about me, don’t you?”

Theo looked at you sharply, his gaze unreadable for a second. But then, his lips curled into that familiar, crooked smirk—the one you couldn’t decide if you loved or hated.

“I care about a lot of things,” he said, voice teasing now, though there was a rawness to it that hadn’t been there before. 

“And what about me?” you asked, your voice quieter, almost challenging. 

He was still smirking, but there was something softer in the way he looked at you, the vulnerability he usually kept hidden just barely breaking through. 

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll figure it out next year,” Theo said with a shrug, but his eyes were on you in a way that made your breath catch in your throat. 

You glanced at him, your voice quieter now. “So, what’s your plan for when the countdown hits?”

His lips twisted in a half-smile, though it seemed more wistful than anything else. “I don’t know. Same as always. Just another minute, another year gone by.”

You studied his face, wondering if there was more to that statement than he was letting on. “You don’t have to keep pretending everything’s fine, you know.”

Theo was silent for a moment, his gaze still fixed on the lights below. But when he spoke, his voice was lower, less guarded than usual. “I don’t know how to not pretend anymore. It’s easier that way.”

Before you could respond, the countdown began to echo from the village below, the cheers growing louder with each passing second. You reached out, tugging gently at the sleeve of his coat, a playful grin pulling at your lips.

“Ten seconds,” you said. “You’re not really going to start the year off alone, are you?”

Theo gave you a look, but there was something softer in his eyes now. “Not many options around us.”

You stepped closer, your heart thudding in your chest as you locked eyes with him. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to settle for me then, won’t you?”

There was a brief pause, a beat of hesitation, before Theo’s lips twitched upwards into something a little less bitter, a little more real.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Guess I will.”

The countdown rang out through the night air, and for a moment, everything seemed to stop. You hardly noticed anything else, your focus locked entirely on Theo as you took a step closer, the space between you shrinking until you were almost nose-to-nose.

And then—right at the stroke of midnight, just as the world below erupted in cheers and the sound of fireworks filled the air—you didn’t think. You just acted. 

You grabbed the front of his jacket, pulling him towards you, the moment electric between you both as you tilted your head up to meet his lips. 

He responded immediately, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you in, while the other held your lower back, his touch burning through the thickness of your coat. It was slow at first, almost tentative, like he wasn’t entirely sure this was real, but as the kiss deepened, it became undeniable—the tension, the unspoken emotions finally spilling over, the relief of everything that had been building between you.

The fireworks exploded above, but you didn’t see them. All that mattered was the way Theo’s lips felt against yours, the warmth of his body pressing into yours as the sounds of celebration and life faded away. It was just you and him now, the rest of the world vanishing in the noise of your first kiss. 

The only thing you could hear was the beat of your own heart, the sound of his breath mingling with yours as he pulled away just enough to look at you. 

“Happy New Year,” he said, breathless.

You smiled, a quiet laugh escaping you. “Happy New Year, Theo.”

For once, you didn’t feel the need to say anything else. You just stood there, in the silence that followed, watching the fireworks light up the sky—together. 

And maybe, just maybe, this year would be different after all.

​​ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @iamaconfusedpan

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Hello Could I request a one-shot of yandere Shadow (Sonic boom) x Fem introvert reader

A/n: i honestly havent watched sonic boom yet, ive only warched a few episodes, haventvgitten ti shadow yet so these are probably not too accurate! (◞ ‸ ◟ㆀ)

Yandere!(boom)Shadow x shy reader

Life in Village is quiet, which suits you just fine. Usually its loud with everyone sticking their noses in everyone elses business.

You’ve always been more comfortable on your own time. It was just very tiring interacting with people. So you preffered times at night when everyine was asleep and you could wnjoy the peace. But lately, something feels… off.

At first, it was subtle. A shadow passing by your window at odd hours, the sensation of being watched when you were about to go to bed. You chalked it up to paranoia. After all nothing ever happened.

One evening, as you settled in on your phone, the hairs on the back of your neck prickled. You looked up, your eyes darting around the room. Nothing. Yet the feeling persisted. You tried to shake it off, maybe you were being paranoid? Yeah, that was it. Right?

Definitely...

...

It started innocently enough. Shadow appeared one day at the market, standing off to the side, arms crossed as he surveyed the area. He didn’t approach you, didn’t say a word, just stared. You couldn’t help stealing glances at him, wondering why someone like him was here.

The next time you saw him was at the edge of the forest near your home. He didn’t hide, didn’t make excuses for being there. He simply stared, his eyes locking onto yours.

Silence.

You stood looking back in stunned silence

He stepped closer, hyo movements deliberate. "You..." he began, his voice low as he trudged over.

As he stepped forwars you took steps back instinctively.

Shadow tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. "You don’t waste time on meaningless chatter. You don’t seek the approval of others. You’re quiet... I respect that."

You blinked, taken aback. "Okay. Good to know?"

He smirked faintly before vanishing into the woods, leaving you with more questions than answers.

From that point on, Shadow made his presence known in subtle but unmistakable ways. A flicker at the corner of your vision. Footsteps trailing behind you, only to stop when you turned around. You had fewer and fewer times you truely felt alone.

It was unsettling, and frankly terrifying, but what were you going to do about it?

One evening, as you returned home, you found your front door unlocked. Panic surged through you as you cautiously stepped inside. Everything looked normal, at first. But then you noticed the changes. Your bookshelf, usually a mess, had been meticulously organized. The blanket on your couch was folded neatly. And on your kitchen table sat a steaming cup of tea.

"Who’s here?" you demanded, your voice wavering.

Shadow emerged from behind you, his expression unreadable. "Relax. You’re safe."

"What are you doing in my house?"

"Dont worry about it," he said simply, as if breaking into your home was the most natural thing in the world. "You should feel honored i wentbthrough the trouble of cleaning up your mess"

You stared at him, your mind racing. "You can’t just-."

"Shut up. I didn't do all of this for you to be complaining."

"But I didn’t ask for this!"

His gaze softened, but there was a dangerous edge to it. "You don’t have to ask. I know what’s best for you."

From then on, Shadow started inserting himself in everything you did. Every aspect of "your life" was slowly but surely going under his control. He'd give you small gifts, things he thought you would like. He'd insist on taking you from place to place. He even scared off a group of villagers who had tried to strike up a conversation with you, his glare alone enough to send them running.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked one night, exhausted and defeated.

He looked at you like the answer was obvious. "Because you’re mine. You’ll see," he said quietly, his tone passive aggressive. "One day, you’ll understand. No one can protect you like I can. No one can love you like I do."

A/n: hopefully these werent too out of character as ive only seen one clip of him in sonic boom

[aninipanin1]

Miss Manager's Miscellaneous Shenanigans

Being the manager of Blue Lock had its pros and cons, but one thing's for sure: doing your chores is easier when you have the whole facility simping at your feet.

Notes: Manager Reader is female, but I rarely use pronouns, so any gender may work for this. Manager Reader IS age 16-17, so her love interests would only be those near her age. Anyone else who is older than 20 will be platonic.

ISAGI YOICHI

It was yet another day in the Blue Lock Facility. But, compared to other days before, the air was a little hotter than usual. Even if the facility was rather closed off and most of the inside was air-conditioned, the vents still bring in the air from the outside. Unfortunately for most of you, the temperature outside was hot, and everyone who entered the training fields could immediately feel the sweat start to form even if they have not played yet.

As the manager, you immediately responded to this. Cleaning off the tumblers and filling each of them up while also preparing fresh and clean towels to bring to the many training fields scattered around the facility.

"30 down, another 30 to go."

You could not help but sigh, feeling your arms go numb as you held up another empty tumbler on the water fountain provided in one of the kitchen areas. You found yourself looking at anything around the area to distract yourself, but it's like there was anything interesting about kitchen tools, drawers, or table islands.

"Y/n-chan, do you need any help?"

You hear a familiar voice as you turn around to find Isagi, who offers a polite smile, with his Blue Lock bodysuit on, probably just finishing his training.

"Oh no, no, it's fine. I don't wanna intrude. You should probably just get some rest before taking a shower."

You reciprocated his smile, putting the dozens of towels and tumblers on a pushcart for easy travels. But the boy insisted, grabbing a few bottles and towels himself and putting it on another cart.

"It's fine, Y/n-chan! I can use the small workout pushing these things. And besides, how are you gonna push more than 3 carts by yourself?"

You stopped at that, looking at the 5 carts you prepared, one for each stratum as you mentally sighed.

"I was planning to do many back and forth travels, but you know what? One travel with a little help would be much more better, wouldn't it?"

Isagi laughed at that and agreed, carrying more tumblers to another cart. You just smiled at that, a little happy for the help.

Meanwhile, all that Isagi can think about is the fact that he had another advantage to win you. After all, who would not love a gentleman? Besides, seeing the happy smile on your face was enough to make his day a little brighter.

Today was really not Isagi's day. His pinky toe was hurting when he woke up for some reason, which lessened his performance that day, adding to that was the hot day as well. But hey, at least he got to help you and see you smile.

BACHIRA MEGURU

"What's wrong, Y/n-chan?"

You turned your head to Bachira, who was pouting, his golden eyes wide and curious with a hint of worry.

"Nothing's wrong, Bachira-kun."

"Don't lie..! Your is turned upside down! My monster told me that you're probably sad."

You blinked at that. You thought you hid the fact that you were a little down that day. You just received a text message from your mother that, unfortunately, your cat (C/n) just passed away due to food poisoning, and you were heartbroken.

But, of course, your job must go on, and you wanted to remain professional. Well, until Bachira seemed to take notice of the fact that you have been preventing yourself from looking sad.

"Don't worry, Y/n-chan! You can talk to me, remember? I don't like it when you're sad."

"Thanks, Bachira. It's just that my mom texted me yesterday, and um, well, she said my cat died. And, I just didn't want my feelings to get in the way of work, so I tried to keep it."

"Oh, I'm sorry-"

"No, no its fine. In fact, I'm quite happy that you were willing to listen."

You gave a small yet much more genuine smile, noticing that he looked quite guilty that when he found out the real reason behind your sadness.

He let out a grin before opening his arms and wrapping it around you. You tend to always forget he was quite the muscular guy, probably from all the practice. His childish and bright personality always made you feel comforted, yes, but you also underestimated him. But nonetheless, his hug was warm. Soothingly so, and it made you tear up.

Until you were now full-on sobbing on his shoulder. Perhaps it was because of the loss, but maybe the homesickness and pressure of everything weighed down on you at the same time along with the grief. You did not know.

But what you did know was that Bachira comforted your weary and grieving soul.

He swayed his upper body along with yours, hoping the movement may help calm you a bit. And it did as you slowly picked yourself up, sniffing and wiping your tears away.

"T-thank you, Bachira-kun. I really needed that."

He grinned again before patting your hair.

"No problemo! My mom always said hugs can always heal any sadness away!"

You smiled at that.

"Your mom is correct. It really did."

His smile widened at the now lighter smile on your face, his pointer fingers now pulling the sides of your mouth higher as he cheered.

"Now you're happy for realsies!! You're prettier like this, Y/n-chan, especially when your eyes are also smiling."

CHIGIRI HYOMA

"Are these all the laundries?"

You turned to the occupants of the room, Reo was currently out of the room, probably training, leaving only Nagi who was laying on his bed, sleeping away and Chigiri, who was drying his hair from a shower.

The redhead smiled and nodded his head before turning his head at Nagi, who was passed out. And around his messy bed were his dirty socks, sweaters, and other dirty laundry. The lazy genius did not find the energy to put all of it in one basket, causing it all to be scattered in his side of the room.

"Oi, Nagi! Pick up your damn clothes and put them in one basket. Be thankful Y/n-chan is already doing your laundry for you!"

"Don't want to. 'Ts a hassle."

And he fell asleep again, making a vein pop in Chigiri's forehead. Meanwhile, you just laughed and shook it off.

"It's fine, Chigiri-kun. I'll just pick it up."

Chigiri rolled his eyes at this, not agreeing with how forgiving and patient you were to the white-haired striker. He put the blowdryer down before heading over to your figure that was already picking up the dirty laundry of Nagi's.

"I'll help you. I feel kind of bad."

You blinked before giving a smile that made him smile as well. He felt quite bashful while also impressed. How can someone be so calm and understanding towards everyone? He would never understand that. Maybe it was because he was quite intense, and at times, demanding?

But, he was quite happy and satisfied that someone like you was the manager of this whole Blue Lock thing. You were so approachable and easy to the heart and even eyes that even he, someone quite guarded, found it easy to rely and talk to you.

"Thanks, Chigiri-kun!"

As you two picked it up, you could not help hut laugh whenever Chigiri would flick a sweater in Nagi's face or "accidentally" dropping a dirty sock on the genius' nose, out of spite.

Nagi just shrugged this off, thinking that caring is also a hassle.

"Thanks for picking it up for me, Chigiri."

Nagi muttered in his sleep which just pissed the redhead off.

"I did it for Y/n-chan, not for you, you idiot!"

MIKAGE REO

"I have to what?!"

"I'm so sorry, Y/n-chan, I know you're already so busy but, the JFA insisted for this to be submitted tomorrow."

You blinked at the pile of papers you needed to read and edit and somehow submit to the JFA Union tomorrow, and it was already noon, too. How will you even finish this?

Nevertheless, work is work, so you accepted, asking Anri to put the papers in your desk. For the rest of the day, you just focused on the paperwork, zoning out of reality and time to just hopefully meet the harsh deadline that loomed upon you.

"Y/n-chan! Have you seen - oh, sorry, did I interrupt you on something?"

Looking up from your desk, you found Reo peeking his head from your office door. You gave him a polite smile, tilting your head.

"No, its fine, Mikage-kun. How may I help you?"

"Eh, I already told you, Y/n-chan. You can just call me Reo. Oh, and I just wanted to ask if you know where Chris Prince is? I have a few questions for the training regime we have."

"Oh, right, sorry. And, I heard he and the rest of the masters have a meeting with Anri-san and Ego-san. They would probably be over in a bit."

He nodded at that before he looked at your face that screamed, stressed. Your hair was in a messy hairstyle, with your baby hairs and other strands falling on your face. Your eyes looked weary, with bags under them.

"What are you doing? You don't look too good."

"Ahh, these? These are reports made by Anri-san and Ego-san. I'm the one who's gonna edit all of these for the JFA. It was supposed to be passed next month, so we weren't in a rush, but then they moved it to tomorrow, so here I am."

Reo winced at the thick pile of paperwork. He just stood there for a bit until a smile broke out of his face. He did not need to contemplate. After all, he was always willing to help you.

"Come on, I'll help you with that, Y/n-chan."

"Eh? But, I don't want to intrude-"

"You aren't! I don't like how you're stressing over this. Besides, I do have experience with professional reports because of my father's company, I'll be fine!"

You were ready to say 'no' again, but he was ahead of you, picking up half of the papers and finding a chair to sit on beside you.

"Reo-kun-"

Then you felt a pinch on your cheeks as Reo pinched both of your cheeks lightly, chuckling at the cute expression on your face.

"Shhh, I already told you, it's fine. Just focus on your work, okay?"

"Ehkway.."

You bashfully said as he continued pinching your cheeks. Reo could not help himself. You were too adorable when you acted all mature and responsible.

NAGI SEISHIRO

"Finally. This week was so busy."

You found yourself walking like a zombie towards your room. As you passed by the dining halls, your ears picked up the sounds of hushed gunshots and shouts like someone was playing. Peeking your head at the door, you found a familiar mop of white hair sitting on one of the chairs, head and arms on the table, said arms stretched out and tapping on his phone.

"Nagi-kun? Why are you still here? Lights off is in an hour."

The boy perked up, as he lifted his head when he heard your voice.

"Y/n-chan...It's just a hassle to stand up and walk to bed."

He pouted at the notion of even standing up from his position. You sighed at this, knowing the tendencies of Nagi. He was not called "Lazy Genius" for nothing, after all. Sitting down beside him, you were prepared to pull whatever words you can from your brain to hopefully convince him to head to the rooms or else, Ego would probably scold him.

But, you couldn't help but watch how effortlessly aim and shoot in the games he played. For someone who found moving or even thinking of the notion of moving was a hassle, he moved his fingers across his phone screen quite flawlessly. He was skilled and agile on his hands and you cannot help but be impressed.

"You're really good at this, Nagi-kun."

"Meh, I missed a guy earlier."

You chuckled at that and patted his hair, which made him scratch his head against your hands, resembling a cat. That only urged you to pat his head more. His hair was quite soft even with all the tangles, seeing as he was probably too lazy to brush his hair.

"Your hands are warm and soft. Y/n-chan. I like them."

"Eh, um thank you..?"

You did not know if you were supposed to take that as a compliment, but you just did. Then he turned his head to you, offering his phone.

"D'you wanna play?"

"Huh? Oh no, I'm not really good on games like that."

He tilted his head at that.

"It's fine. You said you like rhythm games, right? You have the instincts and skills to move your fingers accurately already, so you'll learn fast on this. I'll help you."

"Oh, okay, if its okay with you."

You accepted his phone, albeit unsurely. He moved his head to rest on your shoulder to watch and spectate on your gameplay, teaching you what to use and what not to use. Even giving tips on how to better your aim or how to find opponents fast.

It was a calming experience. Nagi was a really good teacher when it came to games, very straight to the point and simple with his words. His voice was quite calming, too, not low but definitely a bit on the huskier and whispery side, as his voice and hums vibrated on your shoulder.

Like with you, Nagi found himself enjoying the moment. No noise except the sounds of the game along with your and his voice adding small quips. Your shoulder was also quite comfortable, your body warm, contrasting the cold air the air conditioning in the dining area provided.

He liked your presence, so serene and gentle, yet sharp enough to excite him. That's was his first impression of you, rather. And that has yet to change.

He was too immersed and comfortable beside you that you two did not notice the time passing. It took Ego coming inside the dining area to scold you and Nagi for both you to notice the time and head to your respective rooms.

But, deep down, Nagi did have to admit, he felt quite annoyed and disappointed that you two had to part so early.

I got too carried away with Nagi's meanwhile Chigiri's felt too short oop- anyways I hope you all loved this one. I might make many parts for this one. I really wanna make Miss Manager a series but idrk...

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[tiyawnyana]

Heyy! I'd like to request Viktor x f!reader, an academic rivals sort of thing. Lots of bickering, teasing and all that. I really love the concept, and I've read every fic I found like this, but I'd love to see it in your style!

So the reader is really frustrated, and they are arguing, lots of tension yk, then she accidentally confesses to liking him/finding him really attractive, so she turns all flustered and tries to deny it, aaand I'll leave the rest to you, maybe it could be smut? With a bit of dom Viktor, hehee

Thank you so much<33

Thank you for your request and patience!!! Loved envisioning Viktor in this 🥴

A/N: i had the woooorst hangover new years day oh my goodness

Characters: Viktor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: rivals to 'lovers', tension, dom!Viktor, teasing, praise (use of good girl), fingering, slight oral (f receiving), maybe a little ooc but I picture Viktor as a teaser

MINORS DNI

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

In Piltover's esteemed engineering college, there were always self-proclaimed rivals in academics.

You stand in the entry hall, glaring up at the scoreboard for the most recent exams.

Your name was placed second.

Second to Viktor. An honorary student from the lower streets of Zaun. To be fair- he had clawed his way to where he was now. That much you could respect.

But come on. Really?

You were practically born reading, studying, bleeding engineering. This was your calling.

How was he able to score better than you? There's no way.

The sound of a metallic cane hitting the ground echoes in the hallway before stopping beside you.

You sigh, gritting your teeth.

A low chuckle can be heard,”Nice score,” the voice speaks smoothly, rolling the ‘r’ and looking your way.

You exhale angrily through your nose,”Oh, shut up.”

A mock look of surrender crosses his face as he raises his hands, cane hooked on his forearm as you cast a scathing look his way.

“Hostile, hm?” He smirks at you and you shove down the fester of butterflies swarming your belly.

With a scowl and a scoff, you turn and stalk off.

His pleased snicker can be heard, sending a jolt of anger up your spine.

The annual engineering designs contest was creeping up.

You were practically vibrating from excitement, having finally finished your own project weeks in advance.

In between that time there were seemingly countless exams that you had to cram study sessions in for.

As usual, it was a back and forth with a certain Zaunite for who claimed first place.

Frustration brewed in your belly, festering over time into something more aggressive.

The day of the Engineering contest was a huge success.

You had cleared your mind of all unease and submitted your invention, pleased with the professor's reactions along with your peers.

“Quite impressive, I will admit,” that accented voice sends a chill up your spine, and you turn to see Victor smirking at you and your invention.

”Sarcasm, how delightful,” you scoff.

“Not sarcasm,” he clicks his tongue, moving past you to peer down at your entry,”Interesting design- can’t help but notice its similarities to the early engineering of Piltover creations.”

You tense slightly, surprised,”What of it?”

He shrugs, a playful smirk on his lips,”Have you seen my invention yet?”

You narrow your gaze,”No, I have not-“

He keeps his smirk on his lips as he tilts his head towards where his invention is being admired. By many, you should add.

Even the Dean.

Hot, boiling jealousy brews in your gut.

You ended up storming out of the halls, needing to calm down.

You find solace in one of your favorite classes, Professor Daughtry’s room. Pacing back and forth, you attempt to calm down; looking at chemical compounds written on the chalkboard to formula’s on posters to distract yourself.

You’d worked so hard, going over seemingly countless versions of your invention in hopes to get the Dean’s approval and favor. With your parents breathing down your neck and now this overwhelming pressure to be the best- you couldn’t seem to calm down.

You hear someone approaching the room, door ajar.

“Sorry, can I please be left alone?” You mutter the most respectful way you can.

“This is a common area,” of course, it’s him and his stupid accent.

The hairs on your arm bristle up as you turn to glare at him.

He mockingly raises his hands in surrender, a small smirk on his lips. He walks in, allowing the door to slide closed behind him.

“Viktor- the door!” You yell but it’s too late. The automatic lock can be heard.

Professor Daughtry had it installed when one too many students snuck into his class to fool around.

“You- you imbecile!” You groan, crossing the room to try to pry the door open.

“Wiggling the doorknob isn’t going to unlock it,” he teases.

You whip around to glare, finding him already lounging against one of the tables by the front of the classroom.

“Oh- will you just- just shut up!” You scowl, glaring at him.

“Feisty,” he smirks, raising his hands again in mock surrender,”What did I do to get on your bad side, hm?”

You roll your eyes, huffing in annoyance. Your forehead comes to rest on the door, willing it to unlock.

Of course Professor Daughtry has an automatic lock, you think silently with an eye roll.

“Well?” Viktor hums, sitting against one of the desks.

You scoff,”What haven't you done?”

“Oh? There's more than one?” He smirks and you find annoyance in the butterflies that swarm everywhere inside you.

You narrow your gaze as you look at him fully, taking in his relaxed state.

Curse him to look so good in the Zaun colors. Curse him to have such a gorgeous set of golden brown eyes.

Curse him to be blessed with such a face.

Curse him, Curse him, Curse him.

“I was born to be a top engineer,” you scowl,”And you just come waltzing in being a know it all-”

“Sorry that I too, was born to be an engineer-” he looks bewildered, rolling his eyes.

“Shut up! This is my entire life-”

“It's my entire life, too! What are you going to do- sell off new inventions to the highest bidder?”

You glare at him,”What of it? Profit gets more creations made, all in the name of progress for-”

“For Piltover, right?” He huffs out a sarcastic laugh,”None of it for Zaun?”

You look at him in surprise, eyebrows shot up.

He smirks at you, but it's not the one you've found yourself liking,”Of course not. I am here in the name of Zaun, princess. Everything I do and create is in hopes that Topside will see that Zaun is capable of great things.”

“I never said-”

“You didn't have to, it's written on your face!” He shouts, pointing his cane towards you,”I see the way you glare, your judgement is based solely on the fact that I am from Zaun.”

“I'm not- glaring because of that!” You huff angrily, taking one step closer.

“Then why, huh? I’m scum to you? Filth from the undercity?” He steps closer too, cane hitting the marble flooring with a clack.

“You’re hot- you stupid-“ You cover your mouth instantly, face warming in embarrassment.

He stands still, eyes wide as he looks down at you in surprise before his mouth lifts in a smirk, an exhaled laugh leaving his now parted lips.

“That’s not- I-“ You stammer, backing up to the door and turning to tug on the knob while simultaneously hoping the floor beneath you would swallow you whole, saving you from this mess.

You rest your forehead against the door again, the cool varnish on the wood a contrast against the warmth in your face.

You hear his cane clacking against the floor as he steps closer before you feel him lightly hit the back of your ankle.

“Stop it-“

He huffs out a laugh that sends a shiver down your spine. You lift your head from the door, side eyeing him and that stupid smirk.

“So.. if I heard this correctly-“

”Ugh.. shut up,” you groan, clenching your eyes shut in pure mortified fashion.

He hits the back of your ankle again, taking delight in your embarrassment.

”You’ve been glaring and being a sour princess because you..” He takes a step closer,”Find me attractive?”

His cane is used to box you in against the door and you warily turn around to face him and the stupidity of your unfiltered mouth.

“No- that’s not-“ You try to deny but you’re shut up when he just smirks down at you, stepping closer.

“Oh? Well.. if that’s not the case, that’s too bad, then..” his voice is now bordering a sultry, seductive tone.

Your eyebrows scrunch, your confusion obvious on your face,”How- how so?”

He quirks a brow at your curiosity, a grin overtaking the smirk. He takes a moment, seemingly deciding if he wants to keep teasing you or just be out with it.

He deliberately lets his gaze trail down your front, tracing every detail, taking in every ripple of the university's uniform. He brings his gaze back up to your face, lingering over your lips.

He quirks up an eyebrow, waiting.

You inhale sharply, cheeks warming even more so, coming to the blatantly obvious realization that he was openly checking you out.

There’s a long pause, followed by him taking a few steps back to lean against the teachers desk. He rests his cane against the side, looking back at you before beckoning you with a quirk of his fingers.

It’s like a command you’d been praying for- you step forward so quick, hands coming up to cup his gorgeously sculpted face before you’re tugging him down to meet your kiss, clumsy at first but desperation obvious.

He’s just as desperate, hands pawing down the back of your vest, cupping around your waist firmly.

You release a shaky moan against his lips, leaning into him as he takes charge of the kiss, licking at the seam of your lips and invading your mouth. One of his hands come back up to cup the side of your jaw, tilting your head back.

You brace yourself, palms pressing down on either side of him on the desk, only to jump and pull back at the loud clang of his cane hitting the floor.

He huffs out a soft laugh, cupping your cheek again and tugging you back in, tongue pressing into your mouth.

“Mmph-“ You moan against him, pawing down his front before carefully unbuttoning the top buttons of his vest.

“Eager, are we?” He says once he pulls back from the kiss, lips now slightly red.

“Shut up-“ You huff in annoyance, but you’re stopped when he grabs your wrists.

“That’s not very nice.. is it?” He hums, eyes darkened with lust as he gazes down at you.

Your cheeks flush, swallowing thickly before rasping a soft,”Sorry-“

”Sorry for what?”

You’re surprised even more so, mouth agape in confusion.

“You must be so used to always getting what you wanted, hm?” He gently but firmly cups your chin, tugging you closer, teasingly brushing his lips against yours,”What are you sorry for, Princess?”

You chase, but he holds you firmly, ensuring you’re not able to get what you want. You whine softly, pleadingly looking up at him but he remains stoic, now, a disappointed look in his eyes.

You swallow thickly,”I’m- uh.. I’m sorry for telling you to shut up-“

”Very good,” He praises, and your thighs clench beneath the long skirt of your uniform.

He grabs your chin, tugging you back in for another heated kiss before pulling back to unbutton your vest. You get the message, unbuttoning his as well and helping him out of it before shrugging yours off.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs in praise as he helps unbutton your shirt, sliding it down your shoulders, his hands gently tracing down your arms, goosebumps following soon after.

You shake it off, cheeks flushed as you undo his tie and unbutton the first few buttons of his dress shirt, but leaving it on to admire his disheveled look.

“Enjoying the view?” He teases, beckoning you back in.

You roll your eyes but follow his call, sighing with bliss when he cups the side of your neck, fingers lacing into your hair to tilt your head to press kisses down your throat.

His touch sends heat through your body, your thighs tense beneath your skirt. You inhale sharply as his fingers unhook the back of your bra, carefully slipping the straps down your shoulders- your nipples harden in the cool air and it's almost like you can see his gaze darken.

His touch is careful, moving his hand from your hip up, up over your ribs to cup the underside of your breast and thumb over your hardened nipple.

He huffs softly,”To think- all this strife and annoyance could've been avoided..” He smirks and pinches your nipple, reveling in your soft yelp,”If we would’ve talked sooner..”

“Please,” you rasp softly, hands fumbling as you grip over his ribs, pawing at lean muscle and soft skin.

“Oh? Begging sounds so nice coming from your lips,” he praises softly.

You huff, leaning in to chase his mouth but he just chuckles at your eagerness, burrowing his fingers into your hair and tugging just right, a whimper escaping your throat.

“Please, what, princess?” He coos, tilting his head and giving you a lust filled look in his honey brown eyes.

You struggle to form words, licking your lips before finally managing to beg,”Touch me-“

“You’ve got to be specific, gorgeous, how am I supposed to know where?” He firmly cups your tit, nipple hard in his palm,”Here? Or..”

His knee suddenly presses between your legs, grinding into your clothed cunt.

“Mmmph- Oh, ahh-“ you whine, eyes fluttering.

“I’m almost tempted to make you get off like this, Princess,” He smirks, kissing your temple almost fondly, feeling immensely intimate,”But.. I’m not cruel.”

He disconnects from you, sliding over to the teachers chair as he uses the desk for stability, before beckoning you over and again, under his spell, you follow without hesitation.

He grips your hips, pushing you back against the desk and guiding one leg up onto the arm of the chair he sits in. He kisses the inside of your knee and you inhale shakily, stabilizing yourself against the desk with a white knuckled grip over the edge. His hands bring your skirt up, bunching up around your waist as he ushers you to lay against the desk.

He whistles teasingly, eyes lighting up as he sees the mess of wetness between your legs,”I haven’t even started, princess..”

“Don’t- don’t tease me,” you murmur in embarrassment, averting your gaze as warmth covers your cheeks.

“But you’re so fun to tease,” he coos, bringing the chair closer to kiss your inner thigh,”Take them off for me?”

You narrow your gaze, only to stop when he raises his eyebrow. Despite the embarrassment, it seems your need for him outweighs it, so you carefully shimmy your underwear off, not missing that he grabs them and stuffs them into his pocket- when you also spot his tented trousers.

“Spread them,” he taps your thighs.

You listen. Of course you do, almost like you were hypnotized by his voice and he can’t help the smirk almost permanently etched into his lips.

“Good girl,” he praises, petting your outer thighs and pressing a soft kiss to the soft skin inside, lingering as he groans from your scent.

He trails his hand up your other thigh, spreading you further before his thumb brushes over your swollen clit.

You squeak, releasing a shaky moan when he grins and rubs his thumb over it softly, not enough to get you off but enough to have you needy and whimpering for more.

“So greedy,” he murmurs against the skin of your inner thigh.

“Viktor- please,” you beg, gripping the edge of the desk with a pleading look in your eyes.

He chuckles, but decides to not tease, instead choosing to spread your folds with a pleased groan at the slick glistening on your cunt. He prods, allowing your slick to wet his fingers before looking up at you.

“Tell me to stop whenever, ok, Princess?”

You nod shakily, warmth gathering in your chest.

“Use your words, now..”

”Yes- I will, Viktor,” you stammer softly, chest heaving at his command.

He nods his approval, carefully pressing his pointer finger into your heat, groaning at the vice-like grip he’s greeted with. You open up so beautifully for him, gummy walls welcoming him almost greedily.

You huff, whining softly before slumping against the desk with a squirm of your hips, almost trying to pull him in more.

He pulls his finger back, then presses back in more, up to his knuckle, getting you used to the stretch. He listens to your soft, airy moans with a satisfied grin.

He presses another finger in, curling both upwards and gently pulling back just to press in harder, other hand holding you down flat against your stomach, thumb rubbing over your clit with precision.

Of course he’s a natural, you think to yourself with a huff before a moan is almost punched out of you as the pads of his fingers press something inside of you. You lift your head, dazed, as you peer at him only to groan at the self satisfied smirk on his mouth.

He sucks a mark into your thigh, speeding up his fingers and thumb, listening to you moan louder and longer, babbling nonsense and repeated pleads.

“Please- oh, don’t stop-“ You beg, head shaking back and forth against the desk.

“You sound so good, all desperate,” he coos, thrusting his fingers into you faster gradually,”Makes me wonder how you’ll feel riding me.”

You moan out loud at the imagery, your walls tighten up around his fingers and he groans, nipping into your thigh.

He keeps at it, grinding his fingers into you faster and harder as you gasp, whine and squirm against the desk. You babble, tears of pleasure pricking your eyes as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to that crest.

“Please- please, oh-“ you moan, back arching into his hands.

“You’ve been so good for me,” he praises,”I think you deserve a treat.”

He removes his thumb from your clit and you almost groan angrily only to yelp in pleasure as his mouth seals over the sensitive bud. He flicks his tongue over it, circling and sucking until you shriek out a moan, sure to have echoed around the empty class as you find your release.

After the mind numbing orgasm, followed by him licking your slick from your folds and his fingers, he pats the outside of your thigh to get your attention.

“C’mon, princess,” he coos.

You tiredly sit up from the desk, peering down at him as he sits back with a cocky smirk.

He points to a button on the inside of the desk,”Did you know that I was the one that installed the new locks to Professor Daughtry’s class? He requested that a secret button be placed on his desk that only he should know about- to unlock it, of course,” He tilts his head,”Sure, there’s a key that he carries, but there are perks to being one of the students he likes.."

He lifts a lone key after grabbing it from his pocket.

You raise your brow in confusion.

“We won’t be bothered at all,” he smirks, a lustful glint in his gaze as he scoots that chair back with his good leg before unbuckling his belt. He taps the floor with his foot,”Show me what else your mouth is good for.”

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

A/N: got some more im working on!!

[darknights-beloved]

in love with him

to hold, for warmth, for you . . .

wc ⸺ 950+

cw; diluc cuddling his pillow imagining its you, lots of pining, blood mentioned, he gets injured, all the fluffy yearning, insecurity synopsis; how can a man yearn for something he doesnt deserve? how can a man long to touch a white rose with bloodied hands? diluc wants you, once. and he'll let himself dream, just once to content himself

It’s not okay. This was not proper. How could this ever be okay?

The day Diluc Ragnvindr was graced with your presence in life, his heart had never felt more alive. A breath of fresh air, truly, in the midst of all the darkness and smoky toxicity that plagued his life. It was the way your eyes gazed at him, the way you smiled at him. His breath was taken away every time without fail. How could it not? You felt like the only real thing in his life, even sharing a kindred spirit with him…only gentler. And Diluc craved that gentleness. Oh so much.

 He tried. He really tried lying to himself, even justifying the friendship you two shared. Alas, it was a futile endeavor. It was as though his eyes belonged to you and his gaze would rather not look at anything else.

He was a man simply longing to cherish you as a lover.

Is it really ok? Just this once, for a man like him to love you?

He could never indulge in such a dream. A dream so far out of his reach or perhaps that was the way he saw it, no matter how much reassurance and gentle chiding he got on your end. He could almost huff a humorless chuckle at the thought.

His feelings were all too well tangled in his heart and only you could undo the knots. Can he plead for gentleness, for relief? His head hurt, warring with his heart. A battle neither losing nor winning.

Is all of this okay if being the most precious thing in his life also meant putting you in danger? That simply went against his code. A code bound to him the day he lost his father, the night of grief and gloom.

He groaned quietly in frustration, the sound cutting through the deep silence in the room.

His body was sore everywhere. But the ache mainly persisted in his heart, an obnoxious reminder of the emotions that swirled through him like a sea storm.

Midnight. The night sky was a deep, void-like black, swallowing up the faraway scenery in its voidness. The only light that lit in the room, glowing in orange, yellowy hues against the walls was from the candelabra. Tonight, Diluc was disappointed in himself.

Threatening the quiet peace of the city was an average group of Hilichurls, merely a couple measly small-timers. He should’ve been able to eradicate them, his usual strength easily overpowering what little power the monsters had. Nothing he shouldn’t have been able to handle. And he did, he did handle it quite well, ensuring the safety of the city without fail.

And yet, he was lost, how did he manage to injure himself so gravely? His cloak stained with horrid red putridness which he then subjected to the floor the moment he entered his chambers with an afterthought. Seeping through the bandages tightly wrapped around his stomach, where the gash had been dire. He lost his composure for a split second and in a flash, he was wounded. Despite his victory in defeating those mobs, he felt defeated. He was tired and breathless.

Was that what it was?

The sheer exhaustion? The sleep deprivation? Every bone in his flesh felt heavy, every thought in his mind weighing him. There was nothing more he wanted to do that run to you and plead for your solace. What a selfish thought, Diluc. Purge it. Immediately.

He tightened the bandages around his torso once more. The cut was deep but in the very least, he didn’t get injured anyway else. It was hard to…walk is all. And sit. And bend. And move, or even…breathe. He shook his head.

His shirt was long discarded to the floor, along with the cloak. He’ll just wash it himself tomorrow. He didn’t want to hear another one of Adelinde’s lectures, or worse, make her worry for his careless mistake.

His thumb and index pinched the end of the wick where the fame flickered and dance, the other little flames dying out in synchronization and exhausting into a thin trail of smoke. The soft glow of the moon seeping through the curtains is a little more apparent now.

Maybe it was okay, for a man to dream. A man like him. To forget about the never-ending stack of paperwork that sits on his desk or work on the finances of the Winery. To close the curtains of his window, shut everything out so maybe, this once, he’ll seize his chance in his hands and dream about you – tonight.

Diluc reached for the largest pillow in his room, fluffing it up enough until it was pliant. The size was just about a third of his own frame but it would suffice. He pressed his palm onto the plump surface of the pillow, using the jeweled pyro orb that rested against the cool surface of the wooden night stand to emanate its elemental heat into the fabric, the warmth seeping through the white cover, absorbing. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he propped himself on one elbow, bringing the pillow closer to him, letting that heat soothe the wound on his stomach. He squirmed a little, adjusting himself until the pillow molded perfectly against his body.

It was nothing compared to your body heat, to the feel of your soft skin. However, it would to do for the time being. His head hurt less.

Then he laid down against his bed. It didn’t feel too cold as normal.

He held the pillow, resting his weary eyes for once.

Tonight, he’ll dream of you. Tomorrow, he’ll pursue you in hopes you’ll let him hold you just as you hold his heart in your beloved hands – more gently, more sweetly.

a/n : gen hope this brought you whatever comfort you needed / was satisfactory . . . 🥹♥️ i feel like writing block is destroying me from the inside out

[archiewantsheetmetal]

hey guys.

here is my collection of layton being lukes dad that nobody asked for since i feel like you guys should see it too. + extra screencaps from the games when i played them. and also a little commentary

SLIGHT SPOILER WARNING!!

these are screenshots from all of the mainline games + a few from plvpw, but for that one they dont really spoil anything. its mostly just layton being mildly affectionate towards luke because i lose my mind whenever he is. this will be multiple parts because i have quite a few

here we go!!

Hershel Protecting Luke or Being his Second Dad in General (Part 1)

Starting with plvspw.

The way Luke is looking up at Hershel makes me claw the ground. He looks up to him so much. He is in awe with him and what he's saying. He is INTERESTED in what hes saying.

Hershel placing a hand on his shoulder to reassure him is so sweet. Hershel is letting him know that he's there.

He notices Luke's troubled expression and demeanor in that cutscene. He's looking up at the sky and is deep in thought after what Hershel said about witches. (Plus the thunder that's scaring him a little.)

And he's quick to reassure him. He knows Luke is scared of the supernatural (Understandably so because of his Experience) and Hershel is quick to let him know that witches can't hurt him. They aren't real, and they never were.

I just thought these were sweet. I like the idea of Hershel answering Luke's questions while he stays at his flat/office. I feel like rainy days for them would be very calm and sweet. Just tea and a book to read. Stories to tell and questions to ask.

As for the second photo, I just find Hershel's concern for Luke to be very sweet. All Luke did was pratfall. He didn't break any bones or get any bad bruises but Hershel rushed to his side to make sure he was alright.

Luke's first instinct when he's scared is always, ALWAYS, to hide behind the professor.

VERY SLIGHT SPOILER FOR LAST SPECTER BELOW! Skip to the next set of images if you want to avoid it.

It's not as noticeable here, but Luke meets Loosha for the first time and immediately backs up behind Hershel for safety.

So much in this game shows that he starts to feel safe around the professor (which I think could be a reason he is so eager to go with Hershel on dangerous trips. Hershel has made sure he was safe each time)

Hershel's first instinct when he feels there's danger is always to shield Luke first. Especially his head.

The grab and tuck thing he does makes me so ill. He's protecting his boy with his whole body and it doesnt matter what part of himself gets hurt as long as Luke is safe.

On the third photo they are falling QUITE A DISTANCE! Yet Hershel's first thought is to grab Luke and put himself between Luke and the ground. Luke is to be safe at all times no matter what.

Putting this here because it was funny. not to the pilot!!!!

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

I CAN FIX HIM- P.B PARKER

Pairing- Jock! Peter x Nerd! Reader (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: You and Peter become closer after your successful final project is finished, and you realize perhaps Peter isn't as bad as you've made him out to be. A night out at the bar with him leads to... a date in the near future?

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension, alcohol and drug use

come close, i'll show you heaven/ if you'll be an angel all night / trust me, i can handle me a dangerous man / no really i can …

- i can fix him (no really i can), taylor swift

part one... part two

You could barely see him from the haze that seemed to linger over the crowd of people in the bar, its presence almost suffocating.

But you could hear him.

Even over the steady thud of music and peoples bustling conversations, his laugh rang loud and true in your ears, as if he had been talking about you behind your back.

Your ears seemed to ring as you let your head loll against the cool brick wall, gripping your glass of wine to try and stay cool.

It was stuffy and hot in this cheaply lit, dimmed rundown college bar, and yet it was completely packed- nonetheless.

And yes, you ordered wine at a college bar. You would be damned if you’d be influenced to try some foamy, warm beer- or a gross shot of liquor that would burn the back of your throat like wildfire.

No, you were quite content with your lukewarm glass of red, the same deep red as the lipstick you had boldly applied tonight.

You hoped it functioned as a fluorescent traffic cone in the sea of white shirts and blue jeans- an eyesore to anyone who bothered to glance your way. Your scowl steered everyone in the other direction anyways.

This was not your scene, and you had no plans of blending into it.

A bead of sweat trickled between your breasts, skin seeming dewy and sticky to the touch.

You had to get out here. You were drunk, and hot, and needy.

The longer you stuck by yourself, the more you got in your head about things. Peter had invited you out with some friends to celebrate the praise you received on your presentation, and the good grade that came with it.

Not that you were surprised by any means, you had worked your ass off- and you had worked it off whilst being partners with the most insufferable man alive.

Or so you thought.

Your once conflicting feelings about the man had turned for the worst- and you actually… liked him. Like really, really liked him. And it wasn't just the sex that had sold it.

He was a genuinely funny, charming and smart man. Behind all the jokes and the sass, he had real intelligent ideas.

You hated the fact you liked him.

It was a classic trope, the whole enemies to lovers, the one night stand and then acting like nothing had happened, that no feelings were shared, or had even been felt in the first place.

It was pathetic actually, the way you had let yourself go.

He was the reason you were on the opposite side of the bar. You were afraid if you were near him for too long, you wouldn't be able to stop talking to him- and that wasn't good. Because then he would entrance you, with his charming- boyish grin, and you'd melt into his arms like cotton candy.

Trying to pretend you still hated Parker was impossible though, to anyone who had eyes. You had given up on that act after the presentation- the raised eyebrows and smirks from Peter's friends telling you everything you needed to know.

They knew your little facade of hate was over. The mask had slipped clean off and shattered on the ground, your heart on your sleeve like a lovesick puppy.

You wanted to stay home with your roommates- as none of them would come to this, much preferring a movie night instead. You didn't blame them. You’d be snuggled right alongside them if it wasn't for your little crush, that didn't seem so little anymore.

So here you were, longing for a man you wanted to loathe, on the opposite side of the bar- despite him inviting you. Your head was thudding so loud it felt like a snare drum was directly inside your skull, the endless buzz of people making you woozy.

You gripped your wine glass, shoving past people as polite as you possibly could, making a beeline for the smokers pit. You couldn't take it any longer. It was too much.

The end was in sight, the door just in front of you, so close you could practically feel your fingers brush the crinkled old posters taped all over it.

“Excuse me ma’am- you can’t take that outside.” a man, presumably a worker called to you, and you slipped from his grip, swinging the door open.

“I’m just taking a smoke.” you called, doubting he could hear you over the loud music. The cool night breeze washed over you like a salty ocean wave, and you let out a sigh of relief.

The bouncer eyed you suspiciously as you clenched the wine glass tighter, slipping over to the side of the building, where there was a group of guys huddled, puff like train smoke, a cloud in their wake.

It was too dimly lit to tell who was who. You sighed, pulling a joint and lighter from your purse. You leaned against the brick, perching the joint between your lips, groaning in frustration as you flicked your lighter- nothing but a small spark emerging from it.

“Hey lady, I told you you can’t bring that out here.” that same man yelled, and you just about drunkenly lost your shit.

“Listen man, I’m not gonna steal your four dollar wine glass okay?! I’m just trying to have a joint and a girl cant even get a light!” you stretched, loud enough to alert the group next to you, feeling five sets of eyes on your frame, some shaking with laughter.

The man's face flushed as red as your wine, and you knew you wouldn't be allowed back here again. You couldn't give less of a shit.

“You need help with that?” a familiar voice sounded beside you, making you jump. Peter leaned against the wall next to you, holding a lit lighter to your face, motioning towards your joint.

“Thanks.” you nodded, leaning in and covering it from the wind. You let out a sigh of relief as you inhaled the smoke, the burn in your lungs leaving you fuzzy as you coughed.

“I’ll take care of her man, don’t worry.” he called to the owner, waving him away. His gaze turned back to you, full of charm and sass.

“Well I’ll be damned. Y/L/N smoking a joint? Who would've thought?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I’m drunk and stressed. Big whoop.” you rolled your eyes, taking another inhale.

“I can see that, from the sass you gave the owner. Or maybe thats just normal, I’m not too sure since thats how you always talk to me.” he shrugged.

“Its called flirting, asshole. I was securing a second date at the establishment.”

“Flirting by taking his glasses? I’m not sure I’ve heard of that one before.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I’m in need of souvenirs of this place. Its so beautiful, I just had to take something back with me so I wouldnt forget it.”

He laughed, the sound echoing through the air, interminling with the smoke from your half smoked joint.

“You’re lucky I know him sweetheart. Or you’d never be allowed back tothis beautiful bar.”

You rolled your eyes again, fighting the urge not to let your cheeks heat up. Before you could make a snarky comeback- a voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Hey Y/L/N. Funny seeing you here, without your little school girl getup.” Bucky smirked, peering alongside Peter, patting his shoulder.

“Harty har. Its vintage Chanel, I’ll have you know.”

“You look good.” he commented, both him and Peter checking you out, and you couldnt help but scoff.

“You should see whats under the dress.”

Bucky laughed and Peters eyes widened, stuck like a deer in headlights between you and Bucky. “Shes feisty when shes drunk, eh Parker? I like her. Good choice.”

He saluted you, him and the rest of Peters group heading back inside the bar, probably off to get more shitty tasting beers. You glared at him as he walked off before sharply turning your gaze to Peters, eyes narrowed like a hawks.

You were bold when you drank. Too bold.

“If you’re gonna look at me like that, ask me on a date at least.” you said, tossing the butt to the side and taking a sip of wine.

You felt buzzed. You felt as free as a bird. Anything could happen. You could say anything, and forget it ever happened in the morning.

So why not play him up a little?

“Would you like me to ask you on a date? Cause I will.” he stated.

“No.”

“So no, don’t ask you on a date?”

“No.” you replied again, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’m gonna ask you on a date now.”

You raised your eyebrow, pursing your lips. “And what if I say no?”

“Well I hope you don't since I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now, but if you did we’d just pretend it never happened.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. He had wanted to ask you out?

“And what, just do this? Have sex once and then act like we aren't interested when we are?”

“Whose we? You are interested then?”

You silently stared at him, glint in your eye as you took another long, drawn out sip. It was nice to have the upper hand and annoy him for once. Suddenly, this whole dynamic wasn't so bad afterall.

“Not sure yet. I’d have to go on a date to find out.”

“Then go out with me, next Saturday. Please.” His voice turned to begging, eyes pleading at you- as if he wasnt the one who played you like a fucking fiddle, teasing you and getting you so riled up youd have to take breaks just from talking to him so you wouldn't lose your mind and kiss him.

He was staring at you, as if you were worth begging over. Like you were above him.

“Please?”

“Please.”

You smiled, hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind his ear, watching as it just fell forward again. Maybe that was too intimate. But he didn't seem to mind.

Encouraged it- actually.

You noticed every little move he made, inching closer and closer towards you- as if your red lips were a magnet.

“Fine. But don't make me wait. Pick me up at 6 o'clock sharp. And I don't like rocks being tossed at my window. A handkerchief wave will do just fine.”

“Just a wave?”

“Just a wave."

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: december 2024

it's here, baby! the final reading roundup of 2024, and the last nine books I read!

what I read:

The Daughters of Izdihar (Hadeer Elsbai, 2023) - I really want to get back into my big chunky fantasy novel kick, and this was a fun one! I will fully admit I almost got turned off by the first chapter or two when the worldbuilding exposition and the fantasy feminism didn't quite sell me right away, but I stuck around and ultimately had a really good time. Daughters of Izdihar follows two young women from very different social classes, Nehal and Giorgina, who are navigating their lives amidst a burgeoning suffrage moment in an Egypt-inspired country. on top of the class and gender of it all, we have the extra element of "weaving," with weavers having the ability to exert influence over different classical elements - think bending, but legally distinct. Elsbai's weavers are a nice change of pace re: fantasy discrimination, being neither universally adored nor reviled but rather occupying a unique, often precarious niche in society that is most fraught for poor women like Giorgina. I found myself increasingly pulled in to the story and delighted to have found such a fun standalone, only to reach the wiiiiild cliffhanger ending and realize it was the first book of a duology this whole time. and apparently the sequel has been out since March of 2024? cool cool cool cool cool cool cool. add another one to the TBR!

Rejection (Tony Tulathimutte, 2024) - I read Tulathimutte's short story "The Feminist" YEARS AGO and have been a little haunted by it ever since, so I was stoked to hear that it had been incorporated into this collection of loosely interconnected short stories. "The Feminist" was striking in its ability to so viscerally capture the inner workings of a deeply unpleasant person whose brain has been absolutely scorched by the nastiest workings of the internet, but I hadn't seen ANYTHING yet. I posted about "Ahegao" here and still can't rave about it enough; it's a slow burn into utter absurdity that ends with a swift kick to the head. to say nothing of Tulathimutte weaving himself into the narrative of the book and, ultimately, rejecting himself, including as the final piece of the book a fictional rejection letter offering scathing criticism of the previous works. reading it made me feel lightheaded; this book is so nastily brilliant.

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 13-14 (Ryoko Kui 2023-2024, trans. Taylor Engel) - god, what a great story. Kui builds such a rich and (god, pardon the pun) flavorful world, with so much nuance and texture given to every layer. you won't find any unquestioned reliance on old high fantasy tropes here; it feels as if Kui has truly turned over every stone in the genre to poke at and play with what lays underneath to make something original. the exploration of desire and hunger and the ways in which food itself fundamentally inextricable from life got me so so good, and I'm going to be so emo about Laois and Marcille's freak asses forever.

Allow Me to Introduce Myself (Onyi Nwabineli, 2024) - one of the only strikeouts of December, to me. the premise is compelling, following a British Nigerian woman in her 20s who is struggling to crawl out from beneath the shadow of being raised in the public eye by a white stepmother who turned her interracial family into fodder for a highly successful mommy blog, but ultimately it falls flat for me. the book feels unfocused and unsure, meandering around until it comes to an ending that is, frankly, far too tidy.

Funny Story (Emily Henry, 2024) - this romance novel has been topping a LOT of lists of 2024's best romances and even making appearances on lists of 2024's best books overall, so needless to say I was afraid of the hype. to my absolute shock and delight, Funny Story actually managed to live up to the praise and then some, turning the seemingly outlandish premise (a man and a woman become roommates after they're each unceremoniously dumped so their exes can elope, lie about dating each other, romance ensues) and make it sincerely charming. our protagonists, Daphne and Miles, are shockingly grounded for the leads of such an unlikely story, and navigate their grief and subsequent half-assed fake relationship in ways that feel winningly believable. Daphne shines as she learns to stand on her own outside of the certainty her former fiancee provided, and Miles would be the singular most fuckable man in any romance novel I've ever read if not for his unfortunate dedication to wearing crocs all the time.

The Uclaimed: Abandonment and Hope in the City of Angels (Pamela Prickett and Stefan Timmermans, 2024) - a surprisingly tender work of narrative nonfiction that explores the lives and deaths of four individuals whose bodies weren't claimed by any next of kin, and what ultimately became of them after. Prickett and Timmermans treat their subjects with incredible care, going to great pains to speak with those who cared for their subjects and depict them as full people with worthwhile lives, examining the families they lost and the systems that failed them as they found themselves alone at the ends of their lives. a great read if you want to get really emo OR really mad about how the United States' exceedingly narrow legal definition of family leaves so many people unprotected in times of need!

Him (Geoff Ryman, 2023) - yeah this is the trans!Jesus book I read on Christmas that isn't even really about Jesus being trans but is about Jesus being sort of a softcore eldritch nightmare man living the most confusing and inscrutable life that anyone had ever lived. I don't know if this book is particularly accurate to either the Bible or the Torah and I truly don't think it matters; Ryman is doing his own thing and I love his little freak Jesus. genuinely I'm obsessed with that guy, nothing has ever made me like Jesus as much as watching him have the most terrible time.

Someone You Can Build a Nest In (John Wiswell, 2024) - god this book is so charming and so fun and it's a romp in so many places. I do really truly adore our protagonist, Shesheshen, who's an curmudgeonly shapeshifting goo monster with a penchant for building herself new body parts out of the spare bits of people that she's killed and eaten. she is, against all logic, crushing hard on a kind woman who recently saved her life while believing Shesheshen to be a human, and that woman has naturally turned out to be a monster hunter (evidently, perhaps, not the most astute one). there's so much gory whimsy here, and so much to like. and yet. and YET. it goes just a little too long for me (the novel is a strong candidate for a work that would have fared better as a pared down novella) and it is, in times, gratingly on the nose with spelling out "x behavior is abuse and abuse is Bad." still very fun though, solid B from me.

that's it!!! that's a wrap for 2024, I'll see you again at the end of January to check in and see how those book bingo sheets are coming along!

[obito-in-disguise]

| Sleepovers with Choso |

Your boyfriend Choso was a sweetheart. Sure, it had only been a few months since you started dating, but you were already completely enamored with him, he was just too cute.

One of your favorite activities to do together was sleepovers. Granted, you had to explain the concept to him for nearly two hours, as he kept asking why he had to hit you with pillows during the barbaric act of the so-called "pillow fight." He just didn’t want to hurt you in any shape or form. :(

Nevertheless, Choso still looked forward to sleepovers. After all, they meant he could spend the whole night cuddling you!

He still didn’t quite grasp that he could just ask for cuddles whenever he wanted and that they weren’t limited to nighttime or sleepovers. So, he obsessively checked his watch all day, counting down the hours to the sleepover.

Most of the sleepover was a blur for Choso, his mind too preoccupied with cuddles. He listened patiently while you went on about the latest gossip while putting a face mask on him. He sat composed throughout the movie you picked out (but ended up watching your reactions in fascination instead). He begrudgingly tapped you with his pillow during the pillow fight and simply chuckled when you told him your grandma hit harder than him.

So, he could barely hold in his excitement when it was finally time for bed. Imagine his surprise—and disdain, when you told him you weren’t quite tired yet and suggested another movie: Human Earthworm 3.

He had heard all about the god-awful movie from his younger brother Yuji, who was obsessed with the franchise. Yuji often rewatched it instead of spending time with his older brother like he should.

If anything, it was salt in the wound. Not only were you postponing cuddle time, but you were now trying to substitute it with that abomination of a movie.

He decided he would bait you into coming to bed and cuddling with him by insisting he was tired and going ahead to bed. He hoped you would feel bad and immediately join him, but he obviously severely overestimated your ability to empathize, when an hour and a half later, he was still lying in bed, alone.

Every now and then, he heard your giggles or the occasional sound of a particularly loud scene. It only served to sour his mood more. Finally, he decided enough was enough and headed to the living room to get you himself.

On the TV, the movie played out its absurdly grotesque scene. The hapless protagonist, now half-worm, crawled pathetically through a darkened corridor. The low hum of ominous music set a tense atmosphere as the camera shifted to a shadowy figure trailing silently behind them. The creature's breath was shallow and raspy, its disjointed movements almost too quiet for the victim to notice.

You leaned forward slightly, eyes glued to the screen.

“No way they don’t feel that,” you muttered. The protagonist, oblivious to their stalker, stumbled forward, only for the camera to pan back, revealing the figure now inches from their back.

A shiver ran down your spine. You chuckled nervously, brushing off the tension. “Yeah, no one’s that clueless…”

The scene shifted to the protagonist finally turning around in slow motion, their horrified scream drowned out by the sound of dramatic violins. You laughed at the over-the-top reaction but paused when an eerie sensation crept over you.

You started to register the sound of soft breaths and a certain heaviness in the air behind you. Someone was standing behind you.

You flexed your fingers around the remote in your hand, ready to use it as a weapon if necessary. No one's that clueless huh?

You knew Choso had a tendency to be odd, but surely even he couldn’t be the one doing this, right? Right??

What if someone broke in? No, if that were the case, Choso would’ve heard them. He was a light sleeper, if he even slept at all. He just laid there and stared creepily at the ceiling when it was time to sleep. You were lucky if he closed his eyes. He always said he didn’t need sleep, whatever that meant.

Now that you thought about it, this was definitely right up Choso’s alley. You sighed and turned around, scowling when, true to your premonitions, there was Choso, standing behind you completely motionless, with that same creepy look on his face.

“What the hell, Cho? What are you doing?”

“I’ve been waiting for you…”

Jeez, way to make this less scary. It was like he didn’t even register that he had scared the pants off you. You sighed, patting the spot next to you on the couch for him.

“Come on, the movie’s almost over…”

He stared down at you before closing his eyes in exasperation. He’d had enough of Human Earthworm 3 stealing his loved ones’ attention away from him and decided he shan’t take it anymore.

He bent over, scooping you off the couch and into his arms. You giggled in protest, not even having a chance to turn the movie off.

“I’ve been waiting to hold you all night…” He mummurs.

The slight pout on his lips was a stark contrast to his deep voice. Sometimes it almost startled you how his gentle, almost innocent face didn’t match his voice at all.

You patted his chest in agreement, letting him carry you off to the bedroom. It’s safe to say Choso got all the cuddles he had been looking forward to that night.

Check out more of my other jjk fics and other stories!

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Winter special!

Sorry this took so long, my phone decided typing wasn’t a thing it could do anymore and my brother is too nosy for me to write on my laptop.

As always: GN!Reader, Pre-established relationships, Tooth rotting fluff

Characters: Wars + Wind, Legend, Four & Time

Part one Next part (to be continued)

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Wars + Wind

Winter traditions weren’t the same on Outset. It didn’t snow on the island, just as it hadn’t for the many years that came before. Warm waves frothed as they lapped against golden sands. The only cool thing was a slight breeze, which combed through the palm trees.

Wind knew it wouldn’t snow. But still, he found himself longing for the cozy days inside by the fire and the occasionally reckless days spent in the flurries of snow.

Even as you investigated his pouty lip and unusual quietness, he couldn’t bring himself to feel better. He couldn’t quite understand it. Logically, he knew it wouldn’t snow. Still, he found himself disappointed with the outcome.

“I just-“ He sighed, shrugging noncommittally, “It doesn’t feel like winter… It’s the same as it’s always been, but I-“ He shakes his head and turns away from the window.

“Don’t worry, i’ll shove you in a pile of snow when we get back to my Hyrule” The captain smirked, leaning against the door. You managed to throw him a soft glare over your shoulder as Wind grumbled (read: shouted) something threatening in return.

Oh how you yearned to see the two pelt each other with snowballs. Truly, it’d be amusing. Shame sand can’t hold its shape that well being thrown.

The two pause their exchange of school ground taunts at the sight of your pure and utter delight.

“I think we broke them” The sailor side eyes his brother, concerned. Wars inspects you from his side of the room before walking over. He grabs each side of your face to examine you further. His hands are warm. Comforting. Secure.

“If you kiss them i’m going to throw up” Wind’s face is contorted into something of a judgemental scowl, comical on his face. You both scatter off each other, garnering a fitting amount of cackles from the youngest hero. You grab him while he’s distracted, managing to tug both him and warriors outside in a fit of confusion and voice cracking shrieks. In fact, you drag them the entire way through outset and to the beach.

“Alright, C’mon you both. We’re making snowmen” Your victory is short lived.

“Really, hun? And how’d you suppose we do that” sassed by your own boyfriend… wow.

“Sandmen. You get my point” You roll your eyes and start gathering damp sand into a mound like shape. It

“Don’t just sit there, you were the one down in the dumps” You lovingly jab at Wind, who cracks a grin and gets to work adding sand to the lumpy collection of the body.

Between the three of you it was easy enough work, save for trying to stay out of the tide and avoid stepping on any sharp rocks.

In just over an hour, a sandman had formed. Adorned with little shell eyes and mouth, draped with seaweed and driftwood for arms, your sandman stood proud against the sea. The three of you sprawled out on the sand, basking in the waning warmth of the sun as it set. The sky was full of vibrant oranges and yellows, the sea waved the same colors back. Your stomach hurt from laughing, your arms were sore from wrestling the stiff sand. Your fingers interlaced with War’s, Wind half laid over you. The whole scene was magical.

Quietly, Wind was thankful. Not many people on his small island quite understood him. Not even himself. The weather was great, and yet he still felt sad. But with his two parents, he felt understood. Cared for. Loved. And that’s what winter was about, he supposed.

Legend

It was, however, really goddamn cold in Legend’s Hyrule. Snow, crystalline and white was packed thickly up to your knees, making any movement a challenge. The wind blew through you and scattered loose bits of snow on top. The rows and rows of apple trees are barren, and looked to have been for quite some time.

When you both finally managed to make it home, you practically fell into the doorway. But alas, it was cold inside too.

The cluttered home certainly did well to lift your spirits, but did little in preventing the onset of hypothermia.

“Hey” Leg’s voice pulled you from shivering. He sounded soft, warm in his regard despite the many times you heard him curse out the weather.

“I’ll see if I have anything here to help keep us warm, it’s usually not this bad” He smiles, wincing slightly as he flexes his hands. You knew even if he did manage to find some cloak or enchanted jewellery stashed away in the depth of his house, it would do little to soothe his aching joints. However, you knew no matter what you said, no one could get the vet to sit still for ten minutes while you tried to light a fire. Hylia herself could order him to sit down and wait, but you knew he’d never listen. It just wasn’t the person he was.

“Just- be careful, ok? Don’t overdo it. I’ll try to start a fire in the meantime” He nods, redirecting his familiar determination mixed with spite towards finding something to warm you both up.

You yourself began gathering wood from various places around the house to light a fire. Apparently, you’d forgotten that the wood you intended to burn should go next to the place you burn it. You were ever so in love with your past self, at the moment

Trips to the kitchen, paddock and small forger rewarded you with just enough wood to start a hearty fire going. It cast patterns on the wall, meeting and reflecting on the many weapons, souvenirs, paintings, photos and other such trinkets which lie mounted on the walls or placed onto shelves. It was comforting. Calm. A serene feeling of warmth, both literal and metaphorical washed over you.

Swift steps echoed through the house as your beloved pink-haired hero returned, blankets and cloaks gathered in a massive mound in his arms. They hit the ground with a soft whoosh, Legend grinning, proud he’d completed his task. He sits down, bracing himself on the fireplace and the floor, a pained look passing his face. Brows furrowed, teeth bared as his mouth pulled into a wince, it wasn’t what you wanted for him. The cold months made everything with his joints hurt worse. Even if he wore all his braces, used all his salves, worked an adequate time, the cold pierced through him.

“C’mere” You pat the floor in front of you and assist him as he shuffles over. Your hands cup each cold, pink cheek, thumbs brushing over their blushed surface. He melts into you, his eyes closing in comfort and contentment for one of the first times in his life. Your hands slide back to weave through his hair, delicately setting his hat off to the side. Wordlessly, you press him forward to lean against your chest, scratching his scalp and whispering soft assurances. His ears flush and wiggle, his head is tucked away in the crook of your neck.

Finally, you lean back, laying down on the floor. You drape the heavy collection of blankets, cloaks and quilts over you and he resigns to his fate. He’s a little achy, but finally he can settle.

“There we go, you can rest” Your voice regards him softer than anyone else has before. It cradles even the most pained parts of himself. From the scared child he started his journies as, to the paranoid hero who was constantly hunted, to the jaded man he grew to be, you placated him. He was never built to be so soft. He smiles, grateful you can’t see his giddy lovestruck face and tease him over it— let alone make it worse. It was dangerous to be this soft. And yet he’s never felt so safe. For the first time in a long time he feels like he can relax. There’s nothing else to do than lay here with you.

Four

But the harsh winter chill didn’t invade the fire-warmed forge. Hot fire burned in the furnace, settling a cozy orange haze across the metal surfaces of anvils, swords and well-used work tables. The light scattered, making abstract patterns on the walls and catching on fine strands of gold as a ringed hand tucks the hair behind his pointed ear.

Four was well accustomed to making things — whether it be for commissions or as gifts.

Yet, he never had so much trouble as he did this time. Something about the self-imposed stress of perfection or the fact that it was for you, someone he treasured so deeply, made the task of making your gift so difficult. It seemed no matter what he drew up, no matter at what angle he approached, no matter what style he emulated, nothing felt quite right.

“Too little” A brash voice would complain, “Something so simple- it’s as if we don’t even love them.”

And so he’d tear the page and start again.

“Too much” A colder voice critiqued, “It’s hardly practical for them”

And so he’d pick up his pencils and start another sketch.

“It’s just-“ A softer voice tried several times to rephrase before landing on his words, “Not them. It’s not a bad gift, not at all. Just not one right for them.”

And after a moment of hesitation, he nods and begins once more.

“It’s not your fault” The surest voice of the four finally speaks up in the middle of his newest sketch. Four sighs and allows himself to separate himself from his work for a moment. Papers are strewn about, odd markings in coloured pencil are scribbled across each design. The distinct handwritings overlap and splay out from one another where each and every one of his opinions dieviated.

Anger doesn’t find him, too burnt out for the fire to find its fuel.

His hand knots itself in his hair, tiredness gripping him finally. He’s about to shake it off and return to his work, to draw until his hand is cramped and his mind exhausted, but he’s stopped by a shuffling just outside the door.

“Link?” Your familiar voice calls quietly, not wishing to intrude on whatever breakdown you intruded on.

Almost shamefully he turns to face you, hunched over and afraid of what you’ll say.

“Why are you still up? Why are you still working- it’s been the whole day!” Your tone holds no real bite, though he can sense disappointment.

“I was just finishing up orders for-“ Your voice cuts him off before he can finish the lie.

“Oh shush. The only thing you’ll be doing is getting into bed and not waking up till noon” It’d be so easy to release himself from your soft grip on his upper arm.

Mentally, it feels impossible.

There’s quiet insistence— hope, even, that he’ll follow along. And he lets himself be dragged out.

“Besides,” The calm voice of his inner self rings out, “You’ll find good inspiration eventually” He smiled, suppressing a laugh. Lest you turn around and ask him what’s so funny. It’s nothing, truly —he’d say— just that he figured out his newest project. A ring.

Time

The coziness of winter didn’t seem to trickle through the whole chain, though. For, the Hero of Time himself was far too busy fulfilling the role of being elderly. Time travel paradoxes aside, Time had spent the first two weeks of the early winter season in bed.

His own stubborn ethic would normally call him to work until he dropped dead, so long as the jobs were done by the end of the day. But between his heavy limbs, dizzy mind and weak muscles, it seemed as if he had no choice. He huffed after finally sitting up, legs swung over the side of the bed.

The room felt excruciatingly cold, every uncovered piece of skin attacked by the frosty hands of winter herself. As he finally managed to stand, fatigue settled over him in a heavy blanket.

It was odd, he thought. Several times he’s lost so much blood he could’ve sworn he died. He was so familiar with the feeling. With pushing past it. But now? Now he couldn’t move? He’d laugh if his lungs could spare the air.

He was forced to lean on anything nearby in order to keep himself shuffling forward. Dressers, doors, tables, chairs… It didn’t matter so long as they helped him reach his goal. Admittedly, though, he did linger by the fire, given it was the only moment he didn’t feel like the chill of the dead season had settled in his bones.

After what felt like ages of fridged shuffles, he made it to the other side of his small cottage. The island provided him a place to sit, and the kitchen provided warmth as stew bubbles away on the stove.

“Link! What are you-“ You move quickly to scold him for leaving bed, a crime he committed quite frequently, but paused upon seeing him squint

“Sorry” Your sweet apology is better than any medicine to him. He can already feel the warmth returning to his chest.

…Maybe that isn’t a good thing considering his fever.

“Go lie down,” He opens his mouth to argue with your concerns “I know you’re hungry and your fever is coming back up,” Oh, is that why your hands were on his cheeks? “But you’ll get more medicine after you eat, ok? I’ll be done soon” He feels himself deflate and lean forward into you, resting his heavy head into the crook of your neck. It feels perfectly carved to his face.

“Miss you” He rasps, his own voice unfamiliar. It’s gravelly and almost hard to make out with how slow and slurred he seems to talk

“I know, I know” You sigh, finally resting back into him, leaning him upright. Your hand massages his back, where his tunic is just slightly stuck to his skin.

He takes a deep breath. It feels like his lungs don’t absorb any of it.

You lean back on your heels to tend to the stew and he feels your hands tugging him with you. As eagerly as he can, he stands, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin atop your head.

“No- C’mon, back to bed” You huff in amusement at his loopy affection, to which he takes great offense

“But I don’t want to” He sighs heavily in response, leaving himself to be dead weight if you don’t start agreeing soon.

“I want to stay out here, with you” He offers finally, after a stretch of silence. His torso rises and falls with the deep breath you take.

“Fine. But you’ll lay down and take a nap when you’re done eating.” He grins, tightening his grip ever so slightly.

Sure, some part of him would always nag to be productive, even at his own detriment. But having you to care for him after so long of being neglected by the world was too much a luxury for him to pass up. He could suffer another nap or two.

[acupofinkedblood]

One-sided Coil x trainee reader [Why Not Me?]

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“…As expected, and the champion of tournament is no one other than the infamous Hellhound!”

Glory to the Hellhound, victory in his grasp like always

Looking down at his current opponent who has been knocked out cold on the ground, Coil smirks before raising his fist up to the air, in which the spectators immediately roar in chaos. In the midst of it there might be some complaints or just some annoying pests like usual, yet the acclamation that brings them to their feet soon overwhelming those insignificant numbers instead

For someone who relies heavily on muscle to declare his dominance in the situation, it isn’t surprising to claim that Coil knows his game as a self-proclaimed professional. Left and right, people shower him with praises and shouts in which he doesn’t even bother to listen closely — all he knows is that he is the center of attention, the reason why people are so worked up at the first place — because he knows damn well he deserves all of it. Every opponent he knocks down, either demons or Biograft’s variants, Coil has his way to win fair and square in glory. His skills have spoken up for his name, the Hellhound of the underground isn’t someone to be taken as a joke. If anything, Coil dare say that he is technically invincible at this point, whether it is his cockiness speaking or not. As if someone can chase up to his level now

If Coil has to list all of the things that he is proud of thanks to his strength, he can go on all days and nights unless someone has to shut him up because oh boy does this man know how to keep his cockiness in the bag when he has the chance to show off to the fullest. But he is certain that there is one thing that will appear on the list no matter what: To have your attention

Perhaps it’s just his little crush blabbering nonsense, but Coil finds himself keeps looking at your direction like an instinct whenever you are around. He definitely does that also whenever you are there to see his match. You technically just fuel the fire that craves to win inside him even more. Maybe protect you while he is at it as well. Though he isn’t someone with a too stuck-up sense of justice, Coil is still aware of his need to keep you safe if you are around him. Not to mention that you technically know nothing about the tough battle to keep your head attached to your neck, so that leaves you quite vulnerable. But not on his watch. Coil can guarantee you that nothing will ever come to your harm, not when he is around. Although you don’t ask for it, he still defends his behavior as ‘looking out for a pipsqueak like you’ - a good intention, if you excuse his attitude

You aren’t the best for the fighter, everyone has to admit that. Your timid attitude makes it look like you can be blown away with a single wind passing by, that alone has screamed aloud on how defenseless you are in certain circumstances. If you have to stay at Playground for a long period without putting on your best flight card, you might as well start to write down all your wills before bid a farewell to everyone because you will be the prime target of the violence. Like a doe loses its way into the pack of hungry hyenas, you won’t stand a chance with them. But even that, you still have someone that will have your back no matter what. Hell, you have the privilege of troubling the one and only Hellhound, the seemingly king of the underground. Coil knows how much of a wimp you are, though sometimes he will tease the heck out of you for that, he means it when he claims that he will protect you no matter what

Coil and his insistence on keeping you safe, be bothered as much as you want, though you can’t deny just how much he has been there to fish you out from the hand of death. How many times have he saved you in the nick of time in the toughest moments you find yourself stuck in? How many times has he risked his neck to defend you like his life depends on it? Sure, it is worrying when you think he is too reckless for his own good. Yet Coil only acts like he is the best because he knows he is capable of doing it. He barks and he bites, that’s not something most people can do. Sometimes things do get too out of hand, for the worse or the better. Thankfully, the two of you are still alive and well. You have gotten used to having him as your scary privilege hound at some point, and the same principle can be applied to Coil. He doesn’t mind it really, if anything, it’s quite the opposite

“Do you feel annoyed when I keep coming back to you like this?”

Sometimes you ask him something similar to that question. To trouble him with such trivial matters revolving around you, it feels like such a hassle. It feels like you have been nothing but a weight pulling him back. Even when you keep telling yourself that it will probably be not that big of a deal, the guilt is still there, hiding in the pit of your heart

“No,” is always the answer he throws at you, “Not at all”

That has always been his answer: ‘Not at all’

‘Not at all’, because he understands the lack of strength in you. Enough to the point that he will be even more worried if you don’t find him soon when you are in trouble

‘Not at all’, because you have never been a bother when seeking him out. If anything, he feels proud that he is who you trust enough to even find him at the first place

‘Not at all’, because he has soon consider the task of protecting your well-being as one of his main responsibilities no matter what

It has always been this man’s instinct to find an excuse to give in to your aid. Besides, he is pretty satisfied with current situation. Bothering him as much as you like, then he will have more chance to stay near you. It gives him the perfect opportunity to stick around you more often after all. It’s not like you will suddenly rush away from his protection anytime soon, he thinks he knows you well enough to assume such things. You are still the little pipsqueak that he adores

“Teach me how to fight”

So just imagine his pure surprise when you suddenly come up to him and ask him to tutor you. Out of anyone he can think of that will need his aid in training — And for your information, not only does he not give a flying damn about those who are unfortunate enough to ask him that, but most of the time, he even tells them to screw off — he doesn’t expect it to be you. You, the chick that he used to take under his wings, the demon that he knows is pretty much has the shittiest fight or flight instinct he has ever known?

Coil almost drops the water bottle you just kindly offer while his eyes glued onto you out of curiosity. Maybe a hint of dumbfounded confusion as well. His face is just ridiculous at the very moment when you are in front of him. The reaction he has on his face now is as if as he is looking at an alien who just declares to invade Inpherno in the middle of nowhere: Absurd beyond the limitations in his mind

“Wait, where does this come from? Did you sign your ass up into Banland or what?”

“Be serious!”

“Well I’m being deadass serious here,” he barks out a mock laughter, “But you and fight? Those two don’t usually go together. Spit it out, what’s wrong?”

Seeing that reluctance visibly on your face, Coil raises an eyebrow curiously as he watches every single movement of your body language in attempt of figuring out where does the sudden request come from. And don’t get him wrong, since it is you, he is more than willing to spend a good amount of his precious time on training you. After all, it’s about time for you to stand up for yourself independently. Coil just doesn’t expect that to happen in the near future. At least not at the moment. Yet when he thinks about it, he can see the potential motivation behind your decision: You must have grown tired of dragging him into your mess too much. Maybe that’s why you want to learn how to stand up for yourself? To prove that you’re not a coward trembling behind his back? Not that he will ever scoff in disagreement if you ever decide to just stay behind him forever though. But at least give him a good reason for it. The last thing Coil needs to know is you sticking your nose into some serious bullshit that he can’t save you from

As for you, you know better than to keep him in the dark, don’t you? Coil is smarter than most people give him credit for, thanks to his loudmouth that makes people assume he is just showing off when in the reality he only acts cocky because he knows he has the situation under control. That is to say that Coil definitely has a good logical mindset running through his head behind all of that muscle. You know it yourself too. Otherwise how the hell will he be able to get you out of the hook without drawing too much attention to the both of you? Knowing Coil, he will definitely pester you nonstop until you give him a good reason to become your tutor. Huffing out a defeat, you click your tongue begrudgingly

“Can’t I just want to because I can? Besides, it’s for a good cause,” you still try to beat around the bush, “It’s not like I can just leech around you all the times”

“You know you gotta try better than that, right?”

“I feel like kicking your face immediately”

“You and I both know that you will end up kicking your own grave before you can even land a finger on me”

Your weak threat never fails to amuse Coil. You always have been quiet the troublemaker, bite more than you can chew, but then you always ended up dragging your sorry ass back to him for a favor. Countless favors, if he dares to add for better demonstrations. Keep begging him all you want, Coil is the master of playing dumb anyway. The more you insist on hiding your actual reason, the more he will just ‘La la la’ his way out of the situation like a smooth operator. Honestly speaking though, most of it is just him getting under your skin for fun. However, can you imagine someone like him as a teacher? Coil doubts that he has enough patience to handle the obvious rookie’s mistakes with proper instruction instead of shoving it into one’s face. He is more of a learner, not a teacher. There is a huge possibility that he might hang you by your feet upside down on a tree if he has enough of your beginner’s skill issues, and he can guarantee you that it’s not an exaggeration at all. Unless he feels like it, he doesn’t care about becoming a mentor like all those cliché dynamic that has been going around for SFOTH knows how long. This guy physically cringes at the idea of it, can you even blame him? Although yeah, he does take it easier on you, but you gotta convince him enough for it

If getting on all of your trillion nerves is a sport, you know for sure that Coil will gladly have a spot on the top three winners at least. Damnit, he will get a medal for that if the thought alone is possible in the first place. How does this bastard manage to spin you like a wheel based on how is the weather like in his mind: Sometimes he can be quite the nice guy to be at company, other time he will just go on straight asshole mood. What a guy. Just about your very own patience is starting to wear thinner every second passing by, you grunt out an ‘Ugh’ before raising both of your arms up in surrender. You can’t keep up with Coil in this, not if you want him to abide by your request. Maybe a bit of the truth won’t give it away too much. Just a bit will do

“What if I say that I want to impress someone I like?”

Now that definitely gets Coil’s upmost attention. You should have said that from the start, giving how quickly he turns his head over to look at you with his eyes opened widely. How many surprises are you planning on giving him? Hopefully a heart attack isn’t included in what you are going for because Coil definitely feels his heartbeat quickens more than it normally does

“Oh?” Coil mused half-heartedly, “Damn, whatcha got your eyes at there? That’s definitely something”

“Not gonna say. You in or nah?”

“What if I want to know who is this you are referring at? Huh? What are you going to do, bite my ankle?”

A part inside Coil’s stomach is doing the lambada out of anxiety. He hates to think that you have your eyes on someone else, he will probably bite the dust if that ever going to happen. But when he returns his gaze back at your face, he notices that unusual bashful expression that is definitely one of a kind for someone to have the chance to witness it. Maybe he just likes everything about you, both new and old facts. A small voice in the back of his mind has spoken a theory that he has never been so excited to hear before: What if it’s him? What if the person you want to impress is him? Sure, when he thinks of that himself, it does sound like he is being delusional. Yet despite that, Coil allows himself to believe in that fairytale he has weaved up within seconds. Maybe he does have a chance to be with you after all

He wants to believe, wants to hold onto that slight thread that you might actually feel the same way. Let him stay in that dream a little longer. No one is hurt in the process after all. He already considered teaching you once you state your intention clear. Coil’d love to see you try in the process after all. It will be endearing. Maybe it’ll be fun to push you a bit more—

“Teach me or else I’ll go to uh…Steampunk! Yeah, you better take the chance on tutoring me before I go to Steampunk for help instead”

—Oh hell to the fucking no

“Fine, don’t start bitching when you can’t keep up for long-term though”

Safe to say that you have never seen Coil and you reached for an agreement that fast before. Using Steampunk as your ultimate card is such a dirty move, but that’s the only way you can get Coil to stop the tease and to do business with you. It works like a miracle anyway. Poor Steampunk will probably sneeze somewhere else after being used as a shield unknowingly in questions. But hey, you still have what you want in the end!

Now you have officially signed yourself up to one hell of a training routine that Coil follows devotedly in his own way. And by that he means he will do things completely random based on what he feels like practicing. Did you expect a strict schedule of workout with certain times set up or what? If that was what you originally had in mind, then buckle up buttercup, you’re about to go on quite a wild adventure with how Coil trains himself to fight as a Hellhound. To say it’s hellish is a bit too much, but put of pocket? Yeah that’s definitely a good way to describe your training plan with Coil

Everything starts at baby steps, and same goes with fighting. Coil makes sure that you will get a hang of all the basics before showing you how things work. Time really flies when you pay attention to what you wish to accomplish, because it’s just the matter of time before you show Coil just how much potential you have. Left and right, you learn just from the best. Of course, he does mention building muscles by diet like how he used to do. You can skip that part somewhat, but don’t start passing out when you trying to lift the weights up. Coil lost counts how many times he has to take you out to eat properly before going back to training again. Is that a date? He’d like to think it is. This guy does give you quite the hard times without actually noticing before though, that explains some of your questionable situations that you drag both sides into. Still, Coil will be a terrible liar if he claims that it isn’t fun when hanging out with you in his expertise like this

And like the cherry on top, Coil is more than surprised to see how far have you gone this whole time. You pick up his words quickly, heck, you even make some of his skills yours to some extent so it will do you more of a favor in practice. He doesn’t expect you to actually perform so well, then going so far to give him a hard time while sparing with you a few occasions. Coil is satisfied with the outcome, and see your giddy smile makes everything even better. The motivations for the two of you to keep up are different, yet at some point, it’s all so you can make someone proud of the result: Coil takes his joy in seeing you shine, you enjoy the thrill in charging forward for someone you admire

Eventually, the day that you have finally made up your mind has come to a new dawn. Coil doesn’t know what else to teach you more at this point. Of course, he isn’t stupid enough to teach you all of his secretive movements, but just the general alone already makes a huge difference to you. Just look at you, can anyone see that this is the same wimp months ago that can’t even withstand a single flick on the forehead? Coil is pretty much positive that you can crush someone’s neck now. He did teach you the same ruthlessness that he relies on to survive the days after all. Nonetheless, you are pretty contented with the outcome yourself too. The last sparring session of the training routine in this week ends, and although it’s you who is on the ground, at least you still able to hold your stand long enough against the renowned Hellhound himself. Heck, at least you aren’t knocked out cold. Meeting Coil’s eyes again with a smirk, you wipe a sweat away from your face before he helps you getting up on your feet

“Having fun?”

He asks playfully before throwing a towel into your hands. Of course, judging by that wide toothy grin on your face, he already knows the answer. The thought of him being your motivation makes the whole thing even better. It fuels his ego, if he hasn’t made himself clear just yet. Even when you haven’t confirmed his theory, Coil still thinks that he understands enough to have some confidence in himself. If it isn’t him, then who else? Right?

“Hell yeah! I know damn well they will acknowledge my efforts”

“Yeah yeah, of course I—”

“Now I can finally confess to Steampunk!”

Wait, what?

If there is a hole, Coil will definitely jump into it and bury the light out of himself without a second thought. For a moment, it feels like he just got dunked by a bucket of cold water before being thrown out to the road like a pest while the circus theme is playing in the background. Coil freezes on sight if not immediately, the cockiness in his eyes slowly fades into shock with a hint of dread that is obvious to tell. All the neurons in his brain drop dead for a good few seconds before being revived in panic as they all try to process your words desperately like it’s the end of the world. Maybe it is the end for Coil’s words. He looks like he just go through the whole five stages of grief, though keeps walking back and forth between denial and bargaining. There is just no way— His ear is playing with him, that must have been the case. Yet he can’t help that terror swells within the pit of his stomach as he stares back at you. His voice is similar to the whisper to the wind, a contrast of his usual loud vocal

“What?”

“Yeah, thanks for everything Coil,” And here you are, blissfully unaware of the scenario that you just force the both of you into without a warning, “Now I can impress them with these sick moves!”

“No no, that’s not what I meant. The fuck do you mean she’s your crush?”

First of all, it’s already embarrassing enough for Coil to have the assumption that he is the one you referred to when you mentioned this person you held dear to your heart and wanted to impress them, only to be greeted with the harsh truth that it isn’t him at all. To say it’s humiliating it’s not too wrong, his ego is definitely bruised the moment he finished digesting the information you toss in his face. And second, Steampunk out of all people? Seriously!? You have a thing for one of his opponents that he stole the spotlight from in the previous tournament when he returned to the underground club? Coil almost forgets that Steampunk exists in same the picture at the first place. Looking back, he does recall you mentioning her a few times, though he didn’t give it too much attention. Oh how ironic this has turned out, from the ringleader back to the fool

“Coil, what do you mean? I mean, yeah?”

“All these time,” his hands curl up into fists, the strength he forces onto them is more than enough to draw blood through the messed up bandages he has on, “So all those time, I’m just a stepping stone for you to get to her?”

Those times when he save you from any potential threats, those times when he stays with you in your lowest depth of your life, those times when he looks at you in admiration — all of the sudden, it crumbles into nothing but vain attempt of an idiot. He has been running on a fool’s errand since the start. What does Steampunk have and he doesn’t anyway? Is it strength? No, that’s unlikely, he is pretty positive that he can overpower them easily without a broken bone. Is it look? No, maybe that isn’t the case. Coil keeps questioning himself with the compression between him and Steampunk: What do you see in them, and not in him? What do they have that he doesn’t? After everything he has done, why it isn’t enough?

On the other hand, you are still there and trying to turn the gears inside your brain to make out why your friend is so worked up all of the sudden. You can’t be that oblivious, can you? Yet it takes you quite the suffocating silence before you realize what in the hell of a mess is this is all about—

Oh

Oh.

—So that is what this all about. You can’t help bit look back at Coil to confirm the thought inside your head, and to your horrors, his hurt expression is clearer than any words you need to hear

Coil likes you. This entire time, he has been pining over you. That has explained everything he has risked for you. The realization sinks deep into your soul with pure disorientation as you have no idea on what to say or how to act in this particular situation

Noticing the acknowledgment on your face, somehow it makes him feel even worse than before. Coil fails to keep his temper in check as he chokes aloud bitterly like a wounded animal in distress

“What did she have that I don’t—?”

An awkward pause starts to fall onto the both of you like an invisible veil. Not enough to kill you too immediately, yet the suffocating atmosphere is eating Coil’s inside slowly. He can’t even bring himself to keep up eye contact with you like usual anymore. It makes him uneasy. Jealousy is such an ugly emotion. Even when he is jealous of Steampunk, he feels like taking it out on you instead since she isn’t here. If only he keeps it in the dark, then the truth won’t punch him directly right in the face in embarrassment at the time being. Despite his fight or flight instinct has always been titled to fight all of the time, this time, Coil just can’t. He turns away before rushing out of the scene without looking back. Everything just happened too fast, you don’t even have a chance to catch your breath when you realize Coil has ran away like that

What the hell has you gotten yourself into?

Coil doesn’t know what time is this anymore. Not like he ever cares, but the sunset indicates that it’s probably not the earliest yet the latest he can possibly be for the time being. He should have brought something else with him to kill the time while he is in this abandoned spot that no one even bothered to look at due to how ran down it has became. If his memory still serves him right, this place used to be a gym before it was wrecked by the typical Playground’s ways: Gangsters beating up each other ‘til death there and also ruining all the equipment at the same time. No one has been around here for a long while, aside from when those addicts want a quiet place to chill at night. Other than that and minus the broken pieces of glasses on the ground, Coil still thinks this is a good spot to have some peace of mind. He might or might not contribute to the messed up state of the place out of aggression earlier though. But can anyone really blame him? That’s all he can do to take the hurtful irritation out from his chest. Yet it doesn’t seem to help him blow of that much steam as he wished for. Slumping back on the ground with his back against the wall, Coil just buries his face into his hands, ignoring the stained blood of his own through the ragged bandages due to his outburst earlier

You probably are with Steampunk at the moment. Coil can’t help but grits his teeth in defeat at the mental image that keeps appearing in his mind. Again, why her and not him? Surely he can’t be worse than her. As much as Coil usually messes around with you in an unserious manner, he does love you genuinely. Can’t you see it? Or is his actions speak weaker than her words? Is that how it is? Coil feels pathetic when he keeps drowning in those words. He was really down bad for you, and he still is now, even knowing that you don’t feel the same

Small noise of footsteps pulls him away from that pitiful personal moment to keep his defense up. Who is the bastard that just chose this ungodly time to walk in on him? Technically Coil doesn’t mind spitting bars uncensored to chase unwanted visitors away, and he definitely isn’t opposing the idea of using violence in additional as well. But then his shoulders just drop like the marionette’s strings of his body have been cut off in that specific spot when he sees you

“Hey”

It takes Coil some time to think of an answer. But at this point, he doesn’t have enough enthusiasm to bark back a sarcastic remark out of confrontation anymore, so as he stands up, he keeps his voice down dully when he glances away from you subtly

“Hey,” Coil mumbles, “What do you want?”

“Check up on you. Is it a crime to do so?”

Coil is rather tempted to say that he agrees that it’s technically a crime to show up after the whole thing, but then again, he is a criminal. This guy knows better than to be a hypocrite. Plus, he doesn’t even bother enough to banter with you anymore. As he shakes his head uninterestedly, you can’t hep but feel like you should do something to him. The current state of his is just…messed up, both metaphorically and literally. And seems like Coil can read your intention at this point. He raises a hand slightly to signal you to not act rashly as he puts his effort in controlling his composure in front of you

“Don’t bother. I just- I need a distraction. Anything, give me a moment. This is just…Bullshit”

Coil sighs deeply as he wipes his face with his eyes closed. He has expected you to just stay there until he finishes collecting his thoughts properly, yet he seems to forget just how much of a deal can you be whenever that lightbulb on your head just lights up in the most unexpected time ever. When he looks back up, never in his dream did he ever think that he will be greeted by a front punch that actually feels more like a slap for some reason. That just makes things even more questionable in confusion when he realizes you were the one that just give him a free ticket to fix his jawline even when he doesn’t ask for it

“Ayo what the fuck!?”

“You say you want a distraction!”

“Yeah- but that’s not what I—!”

Before he can even make out a protest against your actions, he immediately has to pay attention to when blocking an uppercut coming from you. Despite just being over his previous adrenaline rush — and sulking like a kicked pup for an aftermath — his inclination still does him a favor when selecting fight back before you tackle him down to bite the dust. A fight breaks out between you and Coil, though he mostly just figures his way through your attack to neutralize you without hurting you too much. But that plan quickly backfires when he knows damn well you aren’t going to hold back. Fuck it, he will just apologize later, because it sure as hell looks like you are trying to kill him as your way of ‘distracting’ him. It looks like a messy cat fight: He has a swollen jaw, you spit out a tooth; he has a bloody nose, while you get yourself a new bruise on the face. If anyone unlucky enough to walk into the scene, they will be more than certain that you and him are paying back a blood debt at each other’s throats. The fight goes on for who knows how long before Coil has to headlock you to fall back with him on the floor to put this into an end

You and Coil just staying on the ground beside each other to catch a break after an attempt of stomping each other into the curb. Though you have good intentions, and he will admit that it does work to keep his mind off the pool of doubt, but goddamn give him a warning before you slam the hell out of him like that. After you nudge, or more like pinch, his arm, Coil removes his arm from you yet still let you rest on it. You two look like shit. But at least it somehow makes things less tense than before

While lying there, you both have different things that are begging to be spoken, to clear up the knots between you and him. Yet none decided to speak up first because of personal reasons, mostly fear, at least that’s what you feel like you both are going through now. After somewhat like half an hour, you groan a bit before break the ice first out of nowhere. There is one thing you want to confirm with Coil, even after what has happened

“Is the door locked now because of me?”

You ask out of guilt, patiently waiting for his answer. Coil seems to be surprised as he doesn’t expect this, though after giving it some thought, he brings his other hand to ruffle your hair in a lighthearted way. His answer is as simple as always, since you know he isn’t one for riddle or anything despite his love for the thrill in the games

“No, not at all”

‘But the door is always open for you’ — those words stuck in his throat uncomfortably without the courage to let it be heard, not by you. If he has to force it back into his mouth then die to take it down with him, oh he will

If there is a next time, Coil wishes he will make it in time to be with you instead. Yet no one can make a guess about the future, and your heart already has someone else in it. He has missed out, that is a fact that no one can change. ‘Next time’ sounds like a luxury that he can’t afford. Coil knows better than to get his hope up. The least he can do is to wish you well, even when it is killing him inside

But little do you know, he will still be there, keeping his part of the mindless promise of waiting for you. The door is still open if you ever want a change of mind. Until Coil comes back to his senses to move on, he will still stay as the hound dutifully guarding the door for you. At least that’s what he finds peace in doing for the current moment

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Note: I was rushing this one slightly, so please forgive me for any inconsistent emotional damage 囧 Coil Anon will be responsible for it!

Note 2: Butch Steampunk she/they butch Steampunk she/they because I have free wills la la la~