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˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: You wake up next to a shirtless Ruggie and can't help yourself from touching his back.
♡︎THIS WAS INSPIRED BY AN ARTWORK OF RUGGIE SHIRTLESS!
♡︎Anyways, someone pls tell me who was the op that did that godly art!! pls lord my feed refreshed, and I can’t find it anymore!
♡︎ I FOUND IT!!! I love you, Ruggie, and I also love you @idiakisser for the amazing art
Last night had been pretty hot, and by now, since your relationship had gone way above just intimate moments, the two of you would pretty much just sleep in your underwear. It was just easier that way, especially with the summer air feeling so heavy.
The sun was just starting to peek through, making the room feel even stuffier than it did last night. You were honestly over the heat and just wanted to hop in the shower, but as you sat up to actually get moving, you got distracted.
Ruggie was shifted over on his side, his back turned to you. He wasn’t like super buff or anything, but his frame was sturdy in that lean way he always was. And then you saw it, the connection.
You’d seen his tail a million times, obviously, but you’d never really looked at how it joined his skin. Right there in the center, there were these tiny bits of fur trailing upward, and they looked so impossibly fluffy. Like, so soft you couldn't just sit there and ignore it.
You reached out, barely grazing the spot with your fingertip just to see if it felt the way it looked.
The second you touched him, his tail did this little twitch. Ruggie let out a tiny, muffled groan into the pillow, his ears pinning back for a second before they lazily flickered toward you.
You stayed frozen for a second, waiting to see if you had awakened him, but he just let out another exhale and settled back into the mattress.
Since he wasn't stopping you, you let your hand wander a bit more. Your palm flattened against the center of his back, feeling the warmth of his skin, which was radiating heat, but you didn't even care about the stuffy room anymore. You traced the line of his spine, moving slowly and feeling the sturdy way his frame was built.
You moved your hand back down to that patch of fur, this time using more than just a fingertip. You let your thumb brush through the fluff, marvelling at how it felt compared to the smooth skin of his back. It was so soft it was almost ridiculous.
Every time you moved your hand, his tail would do another one of those involuntary flicks, brushing against the back of your thighs.
Then, you felt him move. Not to get up, but to sink into the touch. Ruggie made this tiny, pathetic little sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between a hum and a purr, and his ears flattened completely against his head in pure bliss.
"’M gonna start charging you for this..." You heard him softly laugh, but he didn’t try to stop your wandering hands.
You let your fingers trace the dip of his waist one more time before your brain came up with a much better idea. Maybe it was the heat or just how cute he was being, but you leaned in.
Before he could even process that you’d stopped scratching him, you sank your teeth into the skin of his shoulder, not hard enough to actually hurt, but enough to leave a mark.
Ruggie’s entire body went rigid.
"AH-! What the-?!"
He practically jumped out of the bed. His tail was puffed out to twice its normal size, and his ears were standing straight up. He scrambled to the other side of the bed, clutching his shoulder and looking at you with wide eyes.
"I thought we were having a moment! I was literally purring! Who just bites someone like that?!"
You couldn't even help it, the look on his face was so priceless that you started laughing
"I can't help it!" you managed to wheeze, wiping a stray tear from your eye while he just stood there looking offended. "You can't just lie there like that! Honestly, your back is just delicious, Ruggie. I had to."
Ruggie stared at you for a dead silent three seconds, his brain clearly trying to process if that was a compliment.
"Delicious?" he repeated. A slow, mischievous smirk started to crawl across his face. "So I’m just a snack to you now? Is that it?"
You nodded, and to your surprise, he turned around, giving you a full view of his back. You gasped at the action as you heard him laugh at your reaction
"Since you’re so hungry, I guess I can give you a better look." he teased.
Ruggie took a deep breath and stretched his arms way over his head, interlocking his fingers and pushing upward. You just stared, totally mesmerised, as his shoulder blades shifted and the muscles across his back went all lean. For a guy who usually looks so scrappy, seeing him actually flex like that was a lot. The dip along his spine got even deeper, and even those little tufts of fur at the base of his tail seemed to stand out more.
He looked over his shoulder at you, catching your expression with a toothy grin.
"Since you're already obsessed." His tail gave a lazy sweep around. "Left side, just a bit higher than where you were poking. It's been itching all night."
summary: neteyam lets his little siblings have whatever they want, especially tuktirey. she’s just so cute! how could you say no to that face? usually he would h no problem letting her have what she want but when it came to you, he found himself not wanting to compromise.
tuk’s affection for you held that peculiar purity only children manage. there was an instinctive possessiveness, lacking any calculated thought, and an unrestrained loyalty that was evident in every shared touch. when those thin limbs curled around your waist or her tiny fingers traced a path through the ferns to a mossy nook she’d quietly claimed as yours both, neteyam never found reason to protest against it. she’d press her face into your ribs when you sat, call you her extra sister. she was so tiny, still missing a back molar, over-enunciating her r sounds, and everything in her life fit neatly into yes or no, want or don’t. she admired you with barely restrained conviction because you never told her no. your lap was warmer than her woven cot, and you told stories with your whole face and let her interrupt them. she always won when you played, and you never brought it up. for a long stretch, all of it was uncomplicated and entirely sweet.
fruit started flying past his ears whenever you climbed onto his ikran instead of walking back with tuk. she’d go quiet for a second, then launch a half-ripe piece of yovo in a movement that she thought was sneaky. he’d barely sit down beside you at mealtime before she’d twist in from your other side, make noise just to drown him out, latch onto whatever sentence he’d begun since she meant to finish it better. she’d stop playing altogether if you weren’t the one she got to chase. hunter-hunted became something she wouldn’t even consider unless you promised to run slow. one night after you left early, she burst into tears without warning. when their mother pressed, tuk slapped her arm across her eyes and said it wasn’t fair that neteyam had stolen you. whenever he came near, she’d press herself harder into your side. speak louder when he murmured something only for you. your name came out of her mouth first, louder than necessary.
you never scolded her, it was impossible to not find her actions endearing. then again, maybe that’s what made it worse.
neteyam had given up so many things, always with that too-old composure jake mistook for maturity, always paired together with that quiet bow of the head that made kiri roll her eyes and lo’ak feel weirdly guilty. when kiri wanted the biggest tswin feathers, he let her keep them, even if he’d found them first. he had let lo’ak win the race back from the eastern cliff more times than could be counted, even when his own stride outmatched his brother’s and his lungs ached to gloat. he never challenged them when they interrupted. he gave away his portions when tuk asked. he stayed behind when others got to fly out further. he let them talk over him, take over the better hunting posts, climb higher on the vines. when his parents were overwhelmed, he’d take on both patrol and babysitting duty, never once breathing resentment. he gave, and gave, and gave. what he wasn’t willing to give was you.
you weren’t even trying to make it worse, which made your unintentional negligence feel doubly cruel. you were kind to tuk, and it created this illusion for her that she had any claim over you at all. tuk didn’t understand the meaning of your gaze when neteyam caught it during late watches, nor did she notice the way your hands lingered too long when you helped him tie back his hair after long days of flight. neteyam noticed. tuk did not. or maybe she did, and it made her angry. maybe she did, and it made her bold.
“she’s my best friend,” tuk announced one evening, nose wrinkled, arms crossed, expression ripe with the kind of territorial conviction only a baby sister could manufacture.
neteyam turned away from the half-broken spear he’d been repairing. his brow arched, deliberate. “you don’t even know what that means.”
“do too,” she snapped. “means she belongs to me.”
you were sitting between them, quiet when you were entertained and nervous at once. your eyes had darted to neteyam’s face, then tuk’s, then back again. tuk pressed into your side harder, chest puffed out, small but loud. you tried to smile at her. she was just a girl, you reminded yourself. this was harmless.
neteyam disagreed. he leaned back on one arm, muscles stiffening under the stretch of his chest. he looked so smug, so settled. “doesn’t work that way, tuk-tuk.”
she squinted. “why not?”
“because,” he said, hand sliding behind your back under the pretense of stretching, “she picked me.”
you gasped so softly it was barely audible. tuk stared, neteyam smirked. you were sure he’d never looked more insufferable.
“no she didn’t!” tuk shrieked. “she plays with me every day! we pick berries together! we made bracelets! she taught me to ride! she sleeps in my tent when she visits!”
he nodded, nodding too patiently. “that’s true. she also kissed me behind the fire ring last moon. what did she do with you again?”
“neteyam!” you smacked his chest, scandalized. tuk was shrieking. neteyam grabbed your wrist mid-smack, fingers wrapping around your pulse. you couldn’t pull away, and not just because of his grip. his smile wasn’t sly anymore.
“you said you didn’t want a mate yet,” she accused, tiny arms crossed over her chest, mouth turned. “you said you don’t even like the boys in the village.”
your lips parted, “i said i didn’t like most of them.”
neteyam grinned against your shoulder and leaned forward, so your faces nearly touched. you laughed a little and elbowed him, but didn’t move away. you always let him stay close.
“i’m not a boy in the village,” he murmured, tongue clicking against the back of his teeth, “i’m your future mate.”
tuk made a disgusted sound. “no, i’m her mate!”
you looked between them. neteyam was still grinning, cheek resting against his fist, utterly unfazed. tuk was shaking with fury, fists balled, braids shaking. her cheeks were pink, teeth bared.
“you can’t even hunt yet,” he said, barely suppressing a laugh.
“i will!” tuk shouted. “and she loves me more!”
“does she?” neteyam tilted his head at you, “does she love you more than me?”
“you’re being mean,” tuk snapped. “you always give me what i want!”
he finally looked at her. “not this.” tuk’s lip wobbled.
you told tuk the next day that you’d always love her, but that neteyam was different. she didn’t understand, and maybe she never would. she pouted for three days. neteyam was smug the whole time. you ignored them both until you couldn’t anymore. when you kissed him in the mouth of the forest, behind a tree tuk couldn’t climb, neteyam kept laughing into your mouth. every time you tried to silence him, he just laughed harder. he was so happy. you hated it but you kissed him again.
not this time, he thought.
author’s note: this is a repost :3 PLEASEEEE send requests!!! i mean if you want. rise and shine avatar fandom it’s time to rise from the dead!
summary: fluffery! reader is openly paired with neteyam in the clan, but not yet mated. when a group of hunters begin mocking reader (and even flirting with her…), specifically about neteyam’s restraint to bond, he overhears and grows angry.
oooo yeah possessive neteyam… I like it. first try at an avatar fic lmk what we think.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
the bond between you and neteyam has never been questioned, evident in the way you are never seen apart. even when you are, it still thrives in the small things; glances across the woven huts, the permanent bracelets engraved with shared initials. everyone in the clan knows you are paired, most not minding the fact that the mating ceremony has not yet been enacted. there is no rush between you two on this journey, a journey guided by eywa’s steady breath.
so, when the training rotations shift for a week, it feels insignificant. hunters are reassigned, paths diverge for a few days, and you’re placed in one group whilst neteyam leads elsewhere. you kiss his cheek before parting when he hugs you tight, promising to meet later, neither of you thinking twice about the situation.
“see you soon, sevin.”
“soon, ma’sayrìp.”
your friends giggle around you, his own mirroring the actions.
you trust him completely, and he trusts you impossibly more. it’s only a temporary separation, nothing more than duty, but it’s the first time in a while that you’re not glued to his side. neither of you realize how much that small distance is about to matter.
-
your new group is made up of familiar faces, young hunters like you with reputations that shine brighter than their smiles. ra’vir grins too wide when you step closer to the senior hunter to hear the instructions. his friend tsìkal, equally as dickish, elbows him lightly as they share a whispered joke. they offer to show you the path, even though you already know it.
“easy work today, a lucky group we have.” ra’vir says casually. you laugh softly, assuming he’s referring to the training. it doesn’t take long for the tone to switch. whispers trail behind you when you walk ahead, low and mocking. you’ve always been aware of the curiosity around the ‘delayed’ bonding of you and neteyam, but in your opinion it couldn’t come close to being a problem. interrupting your thoughts, xeytu’s voice carries enough to be heard,
“she’s still waiting, huh?” followed by quiet laughter. tsìkal glances past you, towards neteyam’s group in the far distance who are starting their trek, smirking.
“strange.” he adds. you don’t understand their jokes and don’t want to provoke them either, so again you just smile, adjusting your gear, unaware of the glances exchanged behind your back.
the comments grow bolder as the hours pass, and at times physically bold. xetyu reaches out without asking, fingers tracing the curve of your bow as he inspects it.
“light,” he says, tugging it before you pull away from him. “delicate, like you. has he taught you to use it properly?”
you tighten your grip, calm on the surface even as you feel unease rise in your heart. tsìkal snorts.
you maintain composure.
“we have taught each other. it is not so difficult, or did you need help learning, xeytu?”
the others laugh at your remark, eyes lingering too long on you instead of the targets infront. you step away, straighten your shoulders and move with a quiet confidence. you’ve trained too long to be shaken by a few loud mouths, especially those that come from hunters much less competent than you are.
ra’vir steps into your space again, this time deliberately brushing your shoulder to test how much you’ll yield. tsìkal laughs under his breath and nudges you lightly with his elbow, enough to throw you off your balance. you scoff and take a large step forward again, muttering a quiet ‘please, stop.’
“you’re patient. more than most would be.” ra’vir teases. “you know, I’d never leave you waiting like he does.”
“I’m not waiting for anything, ra’vir. I trust in our path, to question it is to question eywa.”
your jaw tightens, and your knuckles turn pale with the force you use to hold your arrows. xeytu reaches for your wrist as if to calm you, fingers lingering far longer than necessary.
“easy, taronyutsyìp.” (little hunter) he murmurs. “he’s just saying what we’re all thinking.”
something angry flashes through you. in irritation, you twist in one smooth motion, freeing the threaded cap of your knife as you turn to a still. as ra’vir skips to follow you, his hand catches on the edge of the blade. there’s a sharp groan as he jerks back, his other hand lifting to assess the bleeding. you smirk and tuck your knife back in your side.
“what are you thinking now? skxwang.”
tsìkal, aggresive in nature, snaps.
“who the fuck do you think you are-“
sa’niri moves fast, stepping between you and them with a sharp hiss. she’s older, a senior hunter who they wouldn’t dare to cross.
“enough,” she shouts. “have you forgotten where you are?”
ra’vir’s head drops to the ground, already backing away.
“we- we were just talking.”
her eyes flick to the cut on his hand.
“you don’t touch what isn’t yours, child.” xeytu scoffs at this, mumbling something under his breath. sa’niri notices.
“say it louder. let everyone hear.” she says. xeytu looks up, ears dropping in shame as he finds the dissapointed eyes of the other hunters around, judging.
silence.
“go. you are dismissed from here.” she commands, and they do, retreating back into the woods where they can no longer be watched.
“are you alright, tsmuke?” (sister) her voice now soft.
“I’m okay. thank you, sa’niri.” you hug her briefly, before being pestered by hunting friends about what the hell had just happened.
-
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
-
a few skips away, neteyam’s rotation ends much earlier than expected, his group dismissed while the sun is still high. he walks back toward the eating fire with his other hunting friends, the conversation light until lo’ak approaches.
“hey,” he says. “I heard what happened, she okay?”
neteyam keeps walking but there’s a halt in his step.
“why wouldn’t she be?”
lo’ak exhales, knowing how this could potentially go wrong.
“ra’vir, tsìkal, xeytu…? got sent back. sa’niri schooled them. they were messing with her… talking about you.”
now he stops. the muscles in neteyam’s jaw flex hard. his hand grips on lo’aks shoulder.
“is she hurt? where is she now?”
“she’s still training, bro. she’s fine.” he added quickly. “she handled it, ‘heard ra’vir caught a nice scar.”
neteyam turns without another word, furious knowing that you had to use your blade to defend yourself against these fucking pricks. lo’ak catches his arm.
“neteyam, they’re gone I said. she’s safe now.”
he snatches his arm back, eyes dark.
“that does not mean it is finished.”
he finds them near the edge of the swing tree, already miles ahead of lo’ak. the moment they see him, colour drains from their faces, tails wrapping around their own legs in fear of what’s to come.
neteyam is older, larger, marked with responsibility that they have not encountered yet. when he pushes ra’vir lightly with his finger, his back hits the tree. no one speaks.
“what did you think you were doing, exactly?”
ra’vir swallows. tsìkal shifts his weight between legs, xeytu hiding behind with eyes fixed on his feet.
neteyam steps closer.
“you touched her?” he’s controlled, even calm when he speaks, which somehow makes it worse.
“we didn’t mean-“ tsìkal starts.
“no.” neteyam shoves him without warning, hard enough that he slams int xeytu. the sound echoes and none of them dare to move.
“you do not mean anything with her,” he spits. “you do not look at her. you do not speak her name.”
xeytu’s voice breaks when he speaks.
“neteyam, we were joking. we are sorry.” neteyam drives his fist into the tree beside his head, splintering wood.
“you joked about what is mine. my mate.”
lo’ak has caught up now, pulling neteyam back.
“bro! stop this. now.”
neteyam is about to speak again when he feels jake’s presence. he steps in close, hand firm on neteyam’s shoulder.
“what is it, boy? you wanna tell me what the hell happened?”
neteyam looks up at him, his chest rising and falling with a harsh pace. he starts to ramble, “they put their dirty hands on her. she had to draw her blade. I couldn’t be there- training-“
“I got it.” jake’s eyes harden as he looks at the boys up and down, taking in their fear, their shame. he pulls neteyam back by the arm, firm but understanding while they walk off.
the hunters are left standing there, shaken, humiliated, fully aware that everyone will know why they were dismissed, and which family they wrongfully crossed.
“you did the right thing, son. but you lead, starting now. we handle this different, the right way.”
neteyam nods once, the anger settling but not fading entirely.
-
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
-
dark blue has crept over the sky of pandora once your training is complete. you rush to hometree to find neteyam, but he isn’t there, and he isn’t at his family hammock either. so, you find him where you expect to next, far enough from kelutral that the sounds of the clan fade into leaves and glowing biodiversity. he’s sitting with his back against a slanted rock, its coarse surface blanketed with sparkling moss. his eyes are closed, and with your feather-light walk he does not sense your approach.
“hey,” you say softly.
he looks up immediately, relief flashing across his face. his shoulders drop instantly and he feels his anger drain into something lighter.
“hey, ma’tsawke. come here.”
you barely had time to kneel before his hands were on you, his thumbs brushing your arms, shoulders, checking for anything out of place. he kissed your head and pulled you close to him.
“ngatxoa,” (im sorry) he hums.
“I hate that I wasn’t there, baby.” he speaks quietly, but the guilt is loud. the sound of his voice, coated with the velvet of his na’vi accent, resembles a purring when he talks to you… baby… the english term that he used frequently, caused a purple flush to appear on the tips of your ears and nose.
“I’m okay,” you say softly, letting him check all of your skin. “I promise.”
“I know,” he says, quick. “I know you can handle yourself.” his hand slides to your waist, effortlessly pulling you into his lap. “that doesn’t stop this from eating at me.”
he leans his forehead into yours, breathing you in.
“seeing you right now… I just don’t want to let go.” his voice drops.
you smile faintly. “nete’, you’re squeezing me really hard.”
“yes,” he admits. “I need to.” his fingers trail up your back, drawing patterns into your soft skin. “I missed you today. too much.”
you tuck closer into his chest. “I missed you too.”
he presses a kiss into your hair, then your head, then your nose. then, he lets his forehead rest on yours.
“they didn’t hurt you, sevin?”
you try to shake your head. “no. just made me uncomfortable.” his grip on you becomes the slightest bit tighter.
“what did they say to you?” he asks. you sigh in response.
“please, baby.” he says gently. “I want to know.”
you smile, nails tracing the curves in the braids that fell in-front of his face.
“they called me taronyutsyìp,” you huff softly. “as if I didn’t earn my place there.”
he doesn’t interrupt.
“and they kept touching my things,” you continue. “my bow. my hand.” you glance up at him. “I didn’t like it.”
silence settles between you, tense but controlled. his hands curl slowly, then relax again, like he’s forcing himself to stay calm.
your hands rest on his shoulders.
“ma’teyam,” you say quietly. “tell me what you’re really thinking.”
he exhales through his nose.
“I’m angry,” he starts. “not at you. never.”
“I hate that they spoke to you like that.” a pause.
“and I hate that they touched you at all.”
you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, then another at the corner of his mouth.
“I see you, neteyam.”
“I see you, yawne.”
you kiss him properly this time, feeling the tension escape him with your touch. his hands leave your back to hold your face, pulling you deeper into his lips with the most gentle force.
“you’re the only one that matters to me.” you murmur against him. you feel the corners of his mouth curl into a smile, and you pull away to admire the sight.
“there’s my pretty boy.” you coo, pointer finger stroking along the edge of his jaw.
his breath shudders out, tension finally easing as he pulls you closer, forehead resting against yours again.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
notes: silly and overtly fluffy. flustered neteyam. reupload.
"there you are."
"here i am," you mirror back instantly, hardly sparing a glance up at the far too familiar voice as your fingers continue to work at chopping up some vegetables. it's a busy day—a momentous day. there is no time to waste.
"let me help," neteyam offers, already making moves to steal your knife from you as he steps to your side.
but you weave it away from his grasp, nudge him back with your shoulder and point the knife at him as you address him. "aht, don't think so," you differ, then continue your slicing. "besides, don't you have your own tasks to get to, mr. mighty warrior?"
days like this require a lot of preparation; everyone chipping in and doing their part so that it all gets done and runs smoothly. if even one person slacks off, it could cause a rift in sanctified plans. and that simply wouldn’t do. no, it would not.
"i have completed all of them, actually," he retorts, but he shrivels when you narrow your eyes up at him. "okay, almost all of them."
you scoff, let your pupils meet your sockets with a roll as you pry the truth out of him. of course, one of the most important days of the year and it is now that neteyam chooses to have an irresponsible whim. you aren’t sure what you’re gonna do with him.
"your mother will have your tail if she finds one thing out of place for tonight, you know this." it isn't necessarily a warning, but there is some tip-off in your tone. "you must get everything done."
neteyam hums, leans his hip against the raised wood that you are using as a makeshift counter. he says nothing, simply watches you. takes into account how you dice up the vegetables in front of you diligently before sliding them to the side with your knife and moving onto the next ones. his stare is driving you crazy—no one works well under pressure, after all.
it causes you to have a slight blunder; a misstep. you cut a pattern a tad too fast and send a slice of root tumbling towards the ground. neteyam's instincts are superb, quick, and he catches it before it hits the dirt. mumbling a thank you under your breath as he places it back on the tray, you find the heir before you still not making a move to speak.
you aren't sure why it unnerves you so.
"what do you have left to complete?" it's not the question you want to ask, but 'what the hell do you keep staring at?' doesn't sound quite as nice. so you settle on it.
you take a pause, a breath, to turn to him. throughout the years you have seen the eldest sully child wear many expressions. ones tainted by smiles, irritation, pride, devotion—but this one has you tipping your head in the most peculiar way.
because timidness is not something you think you've ever seen don the strong features of neteyam sully.
he carries himself with such an air of confidence; shoulders pressed back and chin held high—not arrogant, but undaunted. he does not shift gaze unless he is avoiding scoldings and he does not suck in his cheek unless he is fighting frustration. so, you wonder, what could possibly have his face contorted in such a reticent manner. if you did not know any better, you’d almost call his demeanor a rendition of shy. but that seems rather uncharacteristic of him, doesn’t it?
"ah—are you sure you don't need help with that?" he's deflecting, brushing off your inquiry like he hasn't heard it. and you can't decide whether you find that amusing or concerning.
he's making way for your knife again and you twist your arm to hold it out of his reach behind you. you eye him carefully, flit your gaze all around him to pick up on anything that you can that would explain his behavior.
"tell me." it's not an order, you aren't demanding, but neteyam nods his head like he's respondent of such.
"my father told me i needed a, uhm," he stutters, licks his lips, like he's tripping over his own tongue. and it's undeniable the way you see his ears twitch. "for the celebration tonight. i need a.."
"a what, neteyam?" you press, cock your brow up at him. you don't think you've ever seen him like this. never witnessed him so.. "you need a what?"
"a.. date."
so fidgety.
"a date?" you repeat with widening eyes.
"no, no not a—not a date really but i need someone for the—“
"the staining ceremony.” you finish for him, continue his sentence because with all his blubbering you aren’t sure he’ll ever spit it out.
he nods curtly.
the celebration tonight is for all the young warriors who have proved themselves throughout the calendar year as being strong willed and great protectors of the clan. neteyam, of course, is one of them. has been since he earned the right to be titled as such. so perhaps it should have clicked in your head that he’d be searching for a partner for the staining ceremony portion of the night.
but a part of you—if you’re being completely honest with yourself—just figured he had one already. events like this take weeks of planning; most warriors find their artisan a fortnight in advance. because it cannot just be anyone.
the partner one chooses for the staining ceremony must be someone with whom they feel a connection. some of the older warriors choose their mates. some of the youngest choose their mother or father. some settle for siblings. others, in brazen acts of outstretched hands, choose a mate unbonded; one who they harbor feelings for but have yet to seal such in the eyes of Eywa.
you cannot lie and say you had not pondered over who neteyam’s choice would be. a part of you thought he would pick kiri—they have always been so close and she has been his partner for such ceremony before. but, you are not deaf to the murmurs of your village, you are not ignorant of what has been passed from mouth to ear of all that will listen. there have been other… prospects who have been suggested to neteyam for this special commemoration.
your name has not been among them.
“well,” you continue, tear your eyes away from him and get back to the task at hand. there is no need to dwell on such things and fall behind. you have just one more batch of greens after this to prepare then you will be done and can walk away from all this. “if you’re here to ask my opinion on who your choice should be, i’m not sure i will prove to be much help.”
a shut down; a cut off. you’d like this conversation to be over as soon as possible because it’s making your fingers itch. you’re offering him a gateway to close the topic off.
but he doesn’t seem to get the memo.
“no,” he chuckles, now, and you can tell he’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. it’s breathy; like he’s punched it out of his chest and finally broken past the barrier of whatever flusteredness had him trapped before. “that’s not why i came to find you.”
“if it’s to convince kiri to sacrifice herself to do it for you again this year, i’m not game for that either.” you don’t understand why his laughter leaves you agitated, why this whole situation has caused an odd twisting in your gut.
“that won’t be necessary,” he disputes, “i do not need kiri to be my partner this year.”
your fingers fumble, your slicing stutters. “oh?” and you want to kick yourself for how your voice hitches. you clear your throat, bite the corner of your lip that neteyam can’t see. “convince some other poor soul to do it for you? is it zuy’nik? i know she presented you a kill from her hunt recently.”
neteyam hums. “no. i have not chosen zuy’nik.”
you grip your knife harder, focus carefully on the blade as you chop down on a bundle of leaves. your throat is dry, your heart is thundering. you feel silly.
“sënuul, then?” you question, do your best to sound as disinterested as possible even though your chest is burning to know who could be lucky enough to have been picked by the heir himself. “i hear many young warriors wish for her. they say she has delicate hands.”
your hands—in contrast—have grown tense; your chops near erratic. being this worked up over a man who is not your mate seems so futile, so nonsensical. if your mother were here to see you now she’d call you childish.
but is it so childish to want things your heart yearns for?
“while that may be true,” neteyam agrees with the sentiment, and that makes your stomach lurch, “it is not sënuul either.”
“then who is it? who could you possibly—“
a hand covering yours has you cutting yourself off. neteyam’s palm melds over your knuckles; stops your unsafe cutting and stills your wrist’s movements. before you can even bring yourself to look at him, calloused fingers are hooking around your chin. swiveling your head around, you have no choice but to meet his gaze. and it is not averting, not twinkling with tepidness like it was before. you think, for a moment, that’s because he’s passed the feeling onto you.
“i do not wish for any other partner in this clan.” and his voice does not waver, does not stumble, now. you swallow as you listen. “i came here to ask if you would do me the honors, for tonight.”
your tongue feels like cotton; the fuzz of it floating to your brain to make everything go static. this is.. not what you had expected.
you had expected to follow neytiri’s orders for preparing the food for the meals that would be shared. you had expected to dress yourself in the ceremonial clothing and jewelry you keep for these special occasions. you had expected to stand around the edges of the circle during the opening dance, serve food to the elders, and sit with a content tight smile as you watched kiri declare neteyam’s war paint for the third year in a row before the true celebration began.
you had not expected yourself to be standing face to face with neteyam, ears twitching embarrassingly sporadic, as he asks you to join him in one of the most intimate and important events of a warrior’s life.
and you suppose you can use that element of surprise as the reason why you find yourself a tad bit speechless while you nod dumbly. a wide grin cracks across his face, curves up his cheeks as he lets out another breathy laugh.
“thank you,” he murmurs, and he still hasn’t let go of your chin. “i was worried i would not get the chance to ask you in time. i was pushing it, but i tried to get all my other duties done as fast as i could.”
now that, the mention of time, finally knocks you out of your little lovesick trance.
“hey, wait,” you huff, shove at his chest lightly with your free hand. “you should have asked me sooner! i should have already had your stain pattern planned out, and—and now i have to go get all of your paints and i didn’t factor in the time for that. you’re terrible!”
“ah, i’m not terrible. i am sure you can just wing it,” he waves off, simpers like this is funny.
“wing it?” you gape at him. because he genuinely cannot be serious. “this will be your war paint pattern for the rest of the year. if it’s bad then you will be stuck with it. you want me just to wing that?!”
“why not? i have faith in you, i’ve put myself into your hands.” and it’s meant to playful, you know this, but the way he’s looking at you proves his words hold their full weight regardless. “don’t be mad at me.”
“oh, i’m mad,” you retort, brush him away as you get back to slicing because now you really do not have the time for distractions. “i cannot believe you have waited until last minute.”
“would you like me to ask someone else?” he queries, and you whip your head over to level him with a glare. “i mean, i am sure sënuul would be honored to be the partner of the future olo’eyktan.”
“you know, i liked you better when you were sputtering and nervous,” you spit back, retract your attention once again. “terrible. truly terrible.”
“ah, do not be mad at me,” he levels again, “what can i do to have you forgive me?”
“nothing. you will never be forgiven.” with no hesitation, but also no malice. your bite holds no venom, and your cheeks are still warm. such hypocrisy you spew.
“nothing?” he questions, and you don’t even have to see his face to know he is smiling. there he is again; the neteyam who holds his chin up high and taunts his brother into mindless games to prove his worth. you admire this neteyam; love this neteyam.
this neteyam grabs your face and tugs you forward before you can think of another mindless rebuttal to spout.
the kiss is light but fervent, and if you were a poetic person you might just say that his lips taste like future promises you already intend to keep. the fight drains from your body and you find no urge to bring it back. this neteyam seems to know how to quell you, how to dispel your frustration and wipe away your grievances like fogged up glass. so easy, so effortlessly.
he pulls away languidly, breath puffing against your lips. "forgive me?" he asks again, and you find yourself nodding before he even finishes the question.
he turns your head to peck your cheek then drops his hands to finally successfully steal the knife still held in yours. you tip your head, blinking through the daze to inquire what he's doing.
"i can finish that, you know."
"i know," he answers, then flashes you a crooked grin that has your stomach twisting in a way far different than before. "but don't you think you should start planning how you want to trail your hands over me?"
and, oh. part of you wants to hit him for that. but part of you wants to tug him in by the neckpiece he dons and get him to shut up by an alternative method.
as you reach forward to run your hand ever so heedlessly up his chest, a faux illusion of planning your mapping, you think you might just settle on the latter.
cw. hiori yo x (fem) online friend reader. sfw + a little suggestive towards the end. hiori is a lil deranged in the head. short + fluff!
hiori yo was never the type to switch up his routine.
even when it came to the things he enjoyed most, like video games, he just sticks to the same four friends he's always played with whenever he goes on cooperative games.
except for the one night where he met you. some girl from the other end of the globe whose face he doesn't even know, but he knows your voice like the back of his hand. after all, one single match together lead up to countless nights of voice-chat until the sun raised for him and went down for you, and now the timbre of your voice and the soft tone in your words whenever he gets you flustered are ingrained in his head.
he isn't even really sure of how it all started. one day he got home especially late from training, and all he wanted to do as soon as he was back in the comfort of his bedroom was to sit on his desk and play all his exhaustion away, yet when he tried calling up his friends to join in, they were all already asleep. so for the first time, he found himself with no other choice; he queued up for a random squad.
and he almost regretted it as soon as the game started. truly, he got matched up with the worst possible teammates, they played like nine year olds who had just gotten their first console ever as a christmas gift from their parents. on the other hand, one of the members of the squad wasn't all that bad, and when the entire team (except for the two of you) died ten minutes into the match, he found himself relying on you to clutch the win.
alas, you didn't really win in the end, didn't even make it to the last five players standing. and when his screen loaded back to the lobby and he slowly saw the rest of the squad disappearing one after the other, he was ready to just throw off his headset and go to bed early; but a voice stopped him in his tracks.
he glanced back at the screen, noticing how the one player that hadn't performed all that bad stayed, the sign of your mic being suddenly turned on displayed atop of your skin;
"hey. wanna go for duos instead?"
hiori's hands were clammy inside the pockets of his winter jacket, and his foot had been clattering against the cold floor of the train station for the past thirty minutes. really, he wasn't the type to get nervous, but you had been in his every thought ever since he first heard your voice.
it had been six months since the two of you met, six months since waking up and falling asleep to your voice had become routine for him, and hiori trusted you so much more than he wanted to admit; you had become the one person he always ran to whenever there was anything he wanted to talk about, the 'mystery girl' his teammates always teased him about whenever he was glued to his phone during training, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he stared at the screen before focusing back on whatever warm-up everyone else was doing.
so last week, when he was laying on his bed, telling you about his day over voice-chat like he usually does and you just hum and reply with, "do you want me to visit you, yo-yo?" he couldn't stop himself from nodding frantically, until he realized you couldn't really see him nod through voice call, so he gulped, a sound he was sure you had caught as he heard your stifled giggle on the other side of the line, and muttered a soft "yeah, that'd be cool." that came out just a bit louder than he had intended.
and now he was here, his right hand almost numb as the cold winter air seeped into his very bones while he held his phone, staring holes at your chat where the last message had been from you saying your train was five minutes away from the station. and he was so engrossed on the screen of his phone that he seemed to miss the soft sound of boots against concrete as someone approached him.
you really wanted to take the opportunity of his distraction to walk around him, maybe try to be cute by placing your hands against his eyes and going "guess who it is!" but your legs were unable to move. your feet were glued to the spot where you stood mere centimeters away from him, your mouth falling slightly ajar and your eyes widening just enough to display the thin ring of color from your iris around your blown-wide pupils as you took him in. the soft, mesmerizing blue hue of his hair and eyes drowning your vision.
you already liked hiori before, he had been so amazing that for the first time, you didn't even really care about what he may look like physically, (even though you definitely had wondered, especially late at night when his drowsy voice echoed across your room and you found yourself scouting closer to the speakers of your phone.) yet as you finally put a face to him, you felt your heartbeat thrumming in your fingertips, blood pulsing dangerously fast against your every vein as you stared at the boy you had come to love in person for the first time.
hiori sighed, resigning to locking his phone and safely placing it back into the pocket of his sweatpants as he tried to stop his nerves from creeping in. he knew he was being uncharacteristically anxious—
just as he raised his head, his eyes met yours and his breath caught in his throat. partly because of the scare of suddenly seeing an unknown figure he hadn't yet noticed standing right in front of him, but mostly, it was because he knew it was you.
hiori had never seen you before, but you were the girl who plagued his mind every passing second, and when he noticed the way a few strands of your hair grazed your skin due to the soft breeze in the station, the way your lashes fluttered against shiny eyes as you looked up at him like he was the only one worthy of your grace, or the way your beautiful lips fell slightly open as you studied his face all made him sure that this was, without a doubt, the girl he'd dedicated so many thoughts to.
and truth is, sometimes hiori yo couldn't really control his thoughts about you. they went from sweet to darker places in the span of a second. and there were moments as he replayed your voicemails over and over late at night, where all he could think about was the aching need to consume your very being until there was nothing left of you for anyone else to see.
but for now, all he did was gently open his arms and watch as you fly into them after minutes of wordlessly staring at each other, nuzzling your face against his warm chest and tightly wrapping your arms against his neck before muttering a content "nice to meet you, yo."
you can't help but giggle as his hands find your waist, rubbing soft circles across the tender skin before he spoke; the strong, thick accent you had come to crave hearing every day finally entering your ears straight from the man himself instead of a device,
"nice to meet ya too, sweetheart."
and he internally curses his mind for already thinking about all the positions and expressions he wants to see you in, the image of your eyes glazed over with pretty tears of pain and a mix of something else easily slipping into his mind as he holds you close, feeling your smile against his chest.
damn it, hiori. at least carry her bags and get her to your place first.
a/n: yeah having to rewrite this whole thing after my draft got deleted was DEFINITELY not fun💔 i fear the first one was much better as well🥹 but well well i felt obligated to post this since apparently i have the entire hiori nation in my inbox❤️🩹
cw: f!reader, crack, so ooc i want to choke myself out, profanity
a/n: im very bored snd i love hiori . i dont play evade btw dont lump me in with them
IGNORE THE TIMESTAMPS ON THE THIRD SCENARIO PRETEND THEY'RE LIKE 5 MINUTES APART OKAY
main m.list // bllk m.list // obligatory @maiyz tag *rolls eyes*
Summary: Percy thinks he's the all-knowing of sea life, but it seems like you are just as deep into the waters of it.
word count: 1.4k ﹙request﹚ ˚₊‧ ଳ
Percy Jackson had always assumed—quite reasonably—that he was the most ocean-connected person anyone could ever meet. Being the son of Poseidon came with certain expectations: saltwater in the veins, waves recognizing his footsteps, currents that shifted when he breathed wrong.
But that assumption shattered the day he met you.
Because you didn’t just like the ocean. You lived in orbit around it.
You were the first girl he had ever seen brighten like a lighthouse at the mention of plankton blooms. You hadn't been godly claimed by his dad nor Athena for your love to read all the sea information you had; yet you were connected to the sea in a way Percy had never seen from any other demigod. Your fascination wasn’t a birthright; it was chosen, cultivated and devoured with enthusiasm so earnest it looped back around to becoming awe-inspiring.
It started on a Tuesday morning in the dining pavilion, when you sat across from him with a plate of pancakes and an expression of intense concentration.
Percy had barely taken a bite from one of the blue cookies when you said, rather calmly:
“Did you know octopuses have blue blood? It’s copper-based instead of iron-based, which helps them survive in low-oxygen environments. Also, they’re the closest thing to aliens we have on Earth.” You stabbed your pancake for emphasis.
“…Good morning to you too?”
Annabeth snorted beside him. “Get used to it. She’s like this all the time.”
“I am not ‘like this all the time,’” you insisted, affronted. “Only when something reminds me—oh! Did you know dolphins sleep with one half of their brain at a time? That’s how they—”
“That’s how they stay alert,” Percy finished for you, smiling despite himself. You lit up like a bioluminescent bloom.
“Exactly!”
Annabeth elbowed Percy as she stood to leave. “She’s your problem now.”
But Percy didn't really care, actually it was lots of fun.
Always carrying marine facts in your pockets like seashells; You visited aquariums the way monks visited temples ! You loved sea creatures with such wholehearted devotion that Percy sometimes wondered whether the ocean itself had whispered secrets to you before he’d ever entered your life.
And Gods help him, he fell so fast.
Percy was almost insultingly confident walking into your first real date. The aquarium was his turf. His birthplace. His personal cathedral. He had fully planned to be charming, knowledgeable, and slightly impressive.
Instead, thirty minutes later, he was following you around like a puppy.
You stopped in front of the giant kelp forest exhibit and your entire face lit up.
“Percy, did you know giant kelp can grow two feet per day?” you asked, palms pressed against the glass. “It’s one of the fastest-growing organisms on Earth.”
Percy stared at the undulating amber fronds, then at you, then back again. His mind wasn't really in the place it should be, he was in a state of mind he didn't even notice that screamed:
‘Marry her. Marry her right here in front of the seaweeds.’
“Two feet?” he managed. “That’s—that’s insane.”
“It’s incredible. It creates entire ecosystems. Sea otters literally wrap themselves in it to sleep.” You turned your head to smile at him, eyes bright.
Percy’s heart performed a somersault so intense he was almost certain he’d accidentally water-bended his own ribcage.
You drifted on to the moon jelly tank, and Percy followed, dazed. The room glowed blue. Jellies drifted like suspended lanterns, their bells pulsing in an otherworldly rhythm. You stood nose-to-glass, enchanted.
“They have a single multifunctional opening,” you said softly. “For eating, expelling waste, everything. They’re beautifully efficient. Perfectly evolved.”
Percy blinked at the jellies.
He had somehow found the one human being alive who could talk about jellyfish butt-mouths with reverence !
And he was smitten because you looked so ethereal in the glow, hair shimmering in reflected waves of bioluminescence. Percy’s throat tightened.
‘Is this real? Did I die on the way here?’
You moved to the octopus exhibit and that was the moment Percy fully tipped over the edge.
“She’s changing colors,” you whispered, pointing. “Not for camouflage. That’s communication.” The giant Pacific octopus stretched a single tentacle toward you, suckers blooming like pale constellations.
“She likes you,” Percy said.
You scoffed. “She doesn’t know me.”
“Trust me,” he muttered, watching the octopus shift from ochre to soft lavender, “she likes you a lot.”
Then you launched into a passionate explanation of cephalopod intelligence— neurons in their arms, problem-solving capacity, mimicry, camouflage controlled by pigment sacs called chromatophores.
Percy understood half of it.
Percy loved all of it.
You finished, breathless and glowing. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”
“Please don’t stop,” he said instantly. Your cheeks flushed, and Percy felt the ocean pipes behind the walls hum in approval.
‘This is the best date of my life. She's so pretty.’
You tugged him toward the next exhibit: the deep-sea gallery. Percy tripped over his own feet following you.
If monsters ever wanted to kill him quietly, now was the time, he wouldn’t even notice. He barely noticed the enormous model of an anglerfish hanging above the walkway, its glowing lure eerily pulsing. You stopped beneath it, delighted.
“Did you know female anglerfish are like supermodels of the deep sea? And the males are these tiny little guys who literally bite onto them and fuse.”
Percy choked on air. “They WHAT?”
“Fuse! Like biological USB sticks. It's for reproduction.”
Percy stared at the ugly fish, then at you, then back at the fish.
‘Marry her. I'm not joking. I will propose in front of this hideous deep-sea abomination.’
“That's horrifying,” he said.
“It’s romantic!” you protested. “In a uh… parasitic sort of way.” He had to laugh— one of those uncontrolled, real laughs that made strangers turn their heads.
Gods, he was gone.
Some days later the rain drummed lightly against the Big House roof as you tugged Percy toward the lake, practically vibrating.
“You’re gonna to love this,” you insisted, nearly tripping in your haste. “I’ve been working on it all week.”
Percy, in typical fashion, had exactly no idea what “it” was but he followed anyway because it was you.
When you reached the dock, you set down a large waterproof sketchbook, flipping it open to reveal meticulously drawn diagrams— ecosystems, deep-sea fish, coral structures, annotated in tiny, neat handwriting.
“This,” you announced, “is my dream project. Well—one of them. A field guide to the monsters that might live in the deep. Like a marine-biology-meets-demigod-science thing.”
Percy stared, awestruck. “You made all of this?”
“Uh—yeah,” you said, fidgeting. “But it’s not finished. I still don’t know how to classify the trench-dwelling species. I found these weird barnacle things on the hippocampi, and I think they’re a symbiotic variant but—”
“Hey.”
You looked up.
“This is incredible.”
You flushed, visibly startled. “You really think so?”
“Yeah. I mean it.” Percy brushed a thumb over the work you had done, gentle as if the page might bruise. “You’re, literally brilliant.”
The rain softened into mist, threading silver through your hair. The lake seemed to ripple warmly in response to Percy’s heartbeat.
You swallowed, eyes softening. “Thank you.”
Percy wasn’t sure if you knew how much that moment meant to him ! The idea that you had chosen to share a part of your ocean with him, the part made from pure love.
That very same afternoon you were lying with your head in his lap, reading aloud from a book on cephalopods because you claimed Percy liked the way you explained things.
He wasn’t sure that was true; he liked the way you are.
You looked up suddenly.
“Oh! Did you know that manta rays have the largest brains of any fish? Relative to their size, I mean. They’re super social, too. Some researchers think they might recognize themselves in mirrors—wait, Percy, you’re not even listening—”
Percy bent down and kissed you. Just a soft, quick press of lips ! One that caught you mid-sentence, stealing your breath and your words at once. When he pulled back, he grinned.
“I’m listening,” he said. “I really like the way you talk about the ocean.”
You stared at him, blinking with wide, stunned eyes.
Then you whispered, “Tell me that again.”
And Percy did say it again, shyly, with his hand brushing your cheek like a wave smoothing sand.
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YOU WRITE NAGI SO FRICKING CUTE I CAN’T😭 can we just have more bf texts with nagi in general!? like clingy ones preferably🙏🙏 IM SO GLAD I FOUND YOU SO EARLY YOURE LIKE MY LITTLE DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH💓💓
texts w/ streamer!nagi ᨦ ♡ ᨩ
streamer!nagi seishiro x reader / warnings : none?
synopsis : random texts from streamer nagi as ur bf !!
a/n : THANK YOU SO MUCHHH!!! i hope ur fine with streamer nagi since i wanted it to be more interesting :3
synopsis: in which itoshi rin becomes an english teacher for blue lock and immediately regrets every life decision that led him to this exact moment.
starring: itoshi rin, bachira meguru, isagi yoichi, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishiro, barou shoei, gagamaru gin
a/n: this was supposed to be a simple english lesson. good luck. bring snacks. and maybe a fire extinguisher ^^
LESSON 0: INTRODUCTIONS
“alright,” rin muttered, arms crossed, already ten seconds away from quitting.
then, in careful, crisp english, he asked: “let’s start simple. what english words do you already know?”
he should’ve known better. immediately, bachira threw his hand into the air like he was summoning lightning.
“boobies!”
rin didn’t blink. “sit down.”
barou grunted next. “dominate.”
“…of course you do.”
chigiri leaned back, twirling his hair. “slay.”
rin blinked. “that’s slang, not vocabulary. sit down, tiktok.”
from somewhere under a hoodie, nagi mumbled, “nap.”
“that’s not english. that’s your entire personality.”
isagi sat up straighter, eyes gleaming with misguided pride. “i know ‘devour.’”
rin turned to him slowly. “why.”
“i say it every morning in the mirror.”
“…right. so none of you know normal words. like hello. or apple.”
barou scoffed. “why would i say apple when i can say obliterate?”
“because apple won’t get you arrested.”
he dragged a hand down his face. “alright. gagamaru?”
gagamaru blinked and sat up like a soldier reporting for duty. everyone turned. for a brief, foolish moment, rin believed.
then gagamaru spoke. “alright. let’s start simple. what english words do you already know?”
rin turned to stare at the corner of the room like he was considering walking into it and never turning around.
LESSON 1: VERBS
rin picked up the marker with a scowl and one visible vein pulsing in his forehead, he scrawled across the board in massive, angry letters:
verb = action word.
“a verb is something you do. like… ‘run.’ or ‘eat.’ got it?”
“for example,” rin gritted out. “i kick the ball. that’s a verb. kick. easy.”
he pointed the marker at them like a threat. “you. give me a verb.”
bachira flung his hand into the air. “i bounce!”
rin blinked. “…that’s… actually correct.”
“i bounce toward danger!”
“there it is.”
barou crossed his arms. “i dominate.”
rin sighed. “you’ve said that in response to literally everything.”
“because it’s always true.”
chigiri leaned back. “zoom.”
“that’s not a verb.”
“i zoom all the time.”
“you’re not a racecar!”
isagi raised a finger. “i overthink.”
rin groaned. “congratulations. that’s finally a real verb. and also a cry for help.”
“i overthought whether to say that, actually.”
nagi mumbled into his sleeve, “i run.”
rin perked up slightly. “hey. finally. a normal verb.”
nagi didn’t look up. “yeah. i wanna run.”
rin nodded. “good. that’s the spirit.”
then nagi added, deadpan, “run away from this boring-ass class and never come back.”
the room went completely silent.
bachira leaned forward. “wait. that actually sounds amazing.”
chigiri nodded. “if we sprint now, he can’t catch all of us.”
isagi whispered, “there’s an emergency exit behind the gym.”
barou cracked his knuckles. “i’ll punch the fire alarm.”
then gagamaru, “i’ll eat the evidence.”
rin snapped the whiteboard marker in half like it was a glowstick of rage.
“SIT. DOWN. ALL OF YOU.”
they froze. chigiri muttered, “damn, okay, drill sergeant…”
rin turned slowly to gagamaru. “please. don’t repeat what i said again.”
gagamaru sat up like he was about to be deployed. “i won’t.”
rin narrowed his eyes. “then what’s a verb?”
gagamaru paused. the entire class could see the loading wheel spinning in his head.
then, with full, unshakable confidence, he said: “fork.”
rin blinked. “…fork?”
gagamaru nodded solemnly. “i fork.”
“you—what does that even mean?”
“like, when i use a fork. i fork.”
rin just stared. “that’s not—no. that’s not how that works.”
“but it’s an action. i’m forking.”
“please stop saying forking.”
“i fork all the time.”
“stop.”
gagamaru leaned back, completely unbothered. “you asked for an action. i provided.”
“that’s not a verb, that’s a cry for educational reform.”
“fork,” gagamaru whispered again, like it meant something.
rin dropped the second marker.
“okay. moving on before i lose consciousness.”
LESSON 2: PAST TENSE
rin wrote “i run → i ran” on the board, underlining it hard enough to almost snap the marker in half.
“see?” he said, already exhausted. “easy. present becomes past. you take the verb and adjust it.”
he turned to face the class. “now you try. give me a verb in past tense.”
isagi raised his hand, cautiously hopeful. “i score…d?”
rin nodded. “okay. acceptable.”
isagi puffed up like a proud golden retriever. “i scored goals yesterday.”
“let’s not stretch the truth,” rin deadpanned.
from across the room, bachira waved his arm like he was flagging down a plane. “ooh! i... explodated!”
rin turned so slowly it looked like a horror movie shot. “that’s not a word. do you mean exploded?”
bachira grinned. “yeah, but mine sounds cooler.”
“it sounds illegal.”
chigiri crossed his arms and flipped his hair. “i sprinted.”
rin nodded. “okay. that works.”
“i sprinted so hard,” chigiri said, “my responsibilities are still trying to catch up.”
rin muttered, “wish i could outrun this class.”
barou answered next without being asked. “i dominated.”
“god not again—”
“yesterday. today. tomorrow. i will always dominate.”
rin looked like he aged three years in five seconds. from the back row, nagi, eyes still closed, muttered, “i napped.”
rin sighed. “good. accurate.”
“i also gave up,” nagi added. “past, present, and future.”
rin just groaned. “gagamaru. you?”
gagamaru sat up like a toaster had popped inside his brain. eyes wide. posture weirdly perfect. confidence through the roof.
“i chewed.”
“…okay. acceptable. chewed what?”
gagamaru paused.
then, softly, he said, “not important.”
rin squinted. “is it something a human being shouldn’t chew?”
gagamaru didn’t answer.
bachira leaned in. “was it metal?”
gagamaru shrugged. “depends on your definition of metal.”
rin dropped the marker again.
LESSON 3: FUTURE TENSE
“final exercise,” rin said, barely hanging on to the last thread of his sanity. “use ‘will’ in a sentence. future tense. one sentence. that’s it.”
he should’ve known better. bachira raised his hand first, grinning like a little gremlin.
“i will dance on barou’s grave.”
barou didn’t even blink. “i will drag you to hell with me.”
“see you there,” bachira beamed.
rin massaged his temples. from the corner, nagi mumbled, “i will nap.”
“shocking,” rin muttered. “truly groundbreaking grammar.”
“i’m consistent,” nagi yawned.
somewhere in the back, chigiri was typing something aggressively into his phone.
“i will file a complaint with the ministry of education.”
“i’ll help you draft it,” rin said, already done with life.
then isagi, too serious for someone barely passing: “i will combust.”
rin took a deep breath. “correct. anyway, i will walk into the ocean and let the tide claim me.”
rin suddenly looked around the room.
“…where’s gagamaru?”
everyone paused.
then—BOOM.
a deep, echoing bang rattled the windows. rin flinched so hard he dropped his marker.
“…what,” he asked flatly, “was that.”
the door creaked open. gagamaru walked in, completely covered in soot and mysterious flecks of tinfoil. his eyebrows were slightly singed. he looked proud.
“sorry, sensei,” he said. “i misread the english label.”
rin squinted. “what did it say?”
“‘do not microwave metal.’”
rin closed his eyes. “AND?”
“i thought it said, ‘go microwave metal.’ so i did.”
there was a beat of pure silence.
“YOU MICROWAVED A SPOON?” rin asked, praying that was the worst of it.
“and a fork,” gagamaru added cheerfully.
rin stared at him, hands slowly rising to his face. then he let out the deepest, most guttural scream a man has ever produced into his palms.
“I AM DONE. I’M DONE TEACHING. I’M DONE SPEAKING. I’M DONE EXISTING IN THE SAME ZIP CODE AS THIS CLASSROOM.”
he turned back to the board and screamed:
“I’LL SPOKE YOU ALL INTO HELL—PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE—”
class: advanced english (barely)
teacher: itoshi “why am i here” rin
form: anonymous (but obviously not)
BACHIRA MEGURU
q: what did you enjoy about this class?
“watching rin glitch in real time whenever i said ‘explodated.’ beautiful.”
q: any feedback for your teacher?
“he should try giggling once. just once. for his soul.”
ISAGI YOICHI
q: what did you learn in this class?
“apparently ‘overthinked’ isn’t a word. but now i overthink saying ‘overthought’ instead.”
q: suggestions for improvement?
“give us a grammar therapy dog. rin can share it.”
CHIGIRI HYOMA
q: describe your teacher in one word.
“constipated.”
q: favorite part of class?
“when rin sighed so hard the lights flickered. i felt that.”
BAROU SHOEI
q: any thoughts on mr. rin’s teaching style?
“GARBAGE. ABSOLUTE GARBAGE. HE TEACHES LIKE HE’S BEING HELD HOSTAGE. ZERO PASSION. NO POWER. WHEN I WALK INTO CLASS, I EXPECT TO BE DOMINATED BY KNOWLEDGE. INSTEAD I’M DOMINATED BY SILENCE, DISAPPOINTMENT, AND HIS WEAK-ASS POSTURE.”
q: anything the teacher could do better?
“YEAH. FOR STARTERS, SPEAK LIKE YOU HAVE A LUNGS. STOP GRADING MY PAPERS LIKE THEY PERSONALLY OFFENDED YOU. THEY DIDN’T. PROBABLY. WRITE BIGGER, I’M NOT DECODING YOUR TINY CURSIVE LIKE IT’S A SECRET MESSAGE FROM HELL. AND FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING, TELL GAGAMARU TO STOP EATING SCHOOL SUPPLIES. HE BIT MY PEN. WHILE I WAS USING IT. WHO DOES THAT. PUT HIM IN A CAGE OR ANOTHER CLASS. I’M NOT TAKING ENGLISH NEXT TO A MAN WHO CHEWS ON STAPLERS.”
NAGI SEISHIRO
q: how would you rate this class?
“would’ve been better unconscious.”
q: did the teacher support your learning?
“yeah. he left me alone. 10/10.”
GAGAMARU GIN
q: what’s one thing you took away from this class?
“you can’t put a spoon in the microwave.”
q: final thoughts?
“i blinked once and he caught me eating tape. i think he's part owl.”
I never thought I'd actually finish this project anytime soon, so I kept it mostly under wraps for a long, long time.
And I cannot believe I'm finally able to say this but!!
My very own interactive fanfic!!
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You get to choose if you want a romantic or platonic end!
5+ scenes for each character with some having hidden triggers to get to them!
Each route is about 12k-17k words. (A total of 144,155 words!!)
The endings depend on the choices you make!
A very few of my mutuals and friends knew what I was upto, and I'm extremely thankful for their presence!!!
Especially @charredcipher who helped me test everything thoroughly. I genuinely owe them my life, and he's the reason I was able to fix and polish this so quickly!!
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tags primary teacher! sae x fem! reader, unnecessarily detailed imagery of sae jumpstarting a car because that’s a very beautiful man I do not apologise
author’s note you thought I was never gonna go back to teacher sae again huh?? I know I said I was going to focus on the long fic but I’m unpredictable like that yeah!
The engine gives one last cough before giving up entirely.
“Shit,” you mutter under your breath.
It’s been a long day— the kind that stretches you thin in ways only a classroom full of five-year-olds can. You love them, of course you do, but Leah had knocked over one of the potted plants during morning circle, and you’d spent your entire break sprinting to the nearest grocery in hopes of finding a halfway decent replacement.
Then Tommy cried for a solid twenty minutes because Jerry (the class mascot, a laminated cartoon mouse with googly eyes) had gone missing. You’d promised he’d be back by one, and had in consequence spent most of lunch break crawling on the floor, only to discover Jerry had slipped behind the blackboard, wedged in a place your arm physically cannot reach. Tommy had been inconsolable when you told him.
And now, after knowing you still have a stack of marking waiting for you on the kitchen table, you hear the engine turn over, and it’s just one thing too many.
You’ll figure it out, you tell yourself. Or at least, you’ll pretend to. All it takes is a little poking around under the hood until someone who actually knows what they’re doing shows up, if the universe ever feels like throwing you a bone.
“Car troubles?”
You turn your head, slower than you mean to, but he’s already walking over: Sae Itoshi. Again. The newest addition to the history department, too pretty for someone who talks so little. He waves at a kid being picked up at the curb who was calling out one last ‘have a nice week-end!’, and then crouches beside your car like this is routine.
“Car troubles?” he says again, quieter this time. maybe he thinks you didn’t hear him the first time.
You blink at him. Your brain works overtime to find a response that doesn’t sound utterly foolish. Gosh, this is not the bone you were talking about.
“Yeah,” you say, brushing your hair back from your face. “It’s, um… not starting. But it’s fine. I know a guy around here, so—”
You smile too quickly. You don’t know a guy around here. In fact, you don’t know a single mechanic in the entire city. But you’re not about to let him be the one to open the hood and fix it, because, ultimately, you’re not sure what’s worse— the car dying, or the thought of Sae Itoshi seeing you like this.
“I can take a look. Mechanics don’t come cheap these days anyway,” he says, almost offhandedly. “Save you the money.”
You want to say no. You should. You want to tell him that it’s fine, really, that you’ve got it under control. But the truth is— you don’t. Not really. And living on a primary teacher’s wage doesn’t exactly leave room for breakdowns, let alone the cost of calling someone out to fix them.
“Errr,” you start, hesitating, “alright then. At your heart’s content.”
You say it with a smile, trying to diffuse the tension, but then again, maybe it’s just you masking up your own discomfort. Your fingers tighten around the edges of your car as he turns to look at you and gives you a small smile in return. The kind that makes your chest twist a little too tightly.
He pops the hood like it’s second nature, leans forward, and peers inside. There’s a quiet sort of concentration on his face, and the contracting muscles under his shirt make it impossibly hard to look away.
And then, something shifts, and his brows pull just slightly together.
“When’s the last time you had your car looked at?”
You blink, unsure how to answer. “I don’t… remember? It’s been a while.”
Sae glances at you over his shoulder, eyebrows raising just slightly. “You know you’re supposed to get it checked every year, right? For MOT?”
Right. The MOT. The mandatory inspection you’ve conveniently pushed to the very back of your mind, somewhere between laundry day and booking a dentist appointment.
“Technically, yes,” you mumble. “Practically, I might’ve forgotten.”
He huffs a soft breath, something between amusement and disbelief, and turns back to the engine. You sink further into your seat, heart still tapping nervously against your ribs.
You’re standing off to the side now, arms crossed loosely over your chest. It’s cooler out than it was earlier, but the sun is still bright and gleams down at your car.
Sae doesn’t say much while he works— not that you expect him to, anyway— and stands with his weight leaned into the open hood, one hand braced against the frame, the other reaching down to fiddle with something you don’t recognize. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, forearms flexing every time he moves.
You try not to stare. You do. But it’s hard not to notice the way his jaw tenses when he leans forward, or the way his shirt lifts slightly when he shifts to one side. He’s always been a little unreadable, but right now, he feels almost close. Like someone you could touch if you weren’t so afraid of what that might do to you.
Eventually, he steps back, letting the hood fall shut with a soft clunk. He turns to you, brushing his hands on his jeans.
“Should be alright for now,” he says, tone as neutral as ever. “But don’t forget to check it out.”
You blink. “Huh?”
“The car,” he repeats. A beat passes, and then, slightly softer, “Don’t forget to have it checked out.”
Oh. Right.
The car.
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