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bettyfrommars · 3 months

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Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

Part 3: Crimson and Clover

Eddie x fem!Reader & Steve x older!OC

masterlist playlist

18+MDNI, not too many warnings for this part just mention of losing a parent, hint to an abusive relationship, alcohol consumption, tons of awkward flirting, eventual smut, but very much a slow burn. Steve is in his mid-late 20's, aunt Kim is mid 30's to early 40's, or whatever age you are, dear reader.

wc: 4.5k

Summary: Hello! We're getting to know a bit more about the character dynamics, listening to some of Eddie's thoughts, and catching a glimpse at a third possible romance on the horizon. Preparing us for the wild ride that starts in the next chapter.

Songs for this chapter: Under the Milky Way/The Church Edge of a Broken Heart/Vixen Seek and Destroy/Metallica

The shores of the resort were thick the next day with people who worshiped the sun, playfully kicking at the water in their bathing suits, stretched out in their lounge chairs, glistening in layers of Hawaiian Tropic tanning oil.

You, on the other hand, were still fully clothed, covered in SPF, under one of the big umbrella’s the resort offered with your headphones on to drown out the sound of the screaming children. Your dad was in the shade next to you, absorbed in a book, while aunt Kim caught some rays on her backside in a black one-piece that was high at the hip, flipping through an issue of People magazine. It was the Summer of Love issue celebrating the 1960’s with the Beatles on the front and the quote: “It’s 20 years later, do you know where your love beads are?”

“Don’t you want to get in the water, Bird?” Your aunt cooed politely, adjusting her big sunglasses on her face.

You shook your head, pulling your headphones down. “I think I’ve developed a phobia of public watering holes.”

“Suit yourself,” she sat up and brushed herself off. “I think I’ll take a quick dip.”

“Watch out for sharks,” you quipped, earning the weight of a magazine being thrown at your hip.

“This has been enough excitement for me,” your dad cleared his throat, placing a bookmark to save his spot, standing from his chair, knees popping. “I think I’ll head in, get some writing done before dinner.”

“Later dad,” you mumbled, wishing you had an excuse to hide in a room by yourself all day.

Once he was gone, Kim took a drink out of her water bottle and heaved a sigh. “I wish the two of you would give this place a chance. Look at that lake!” She stretched her arm out, pointing. “It’s breathtaking.”

You gazed out at the expanse of the cheery, vacation scene, bursting with melancholy. “Mom would’ve loved this place,” you choked on the last word, not sure where that fresh pang of emotion had come from.

Kim chewed the inside of her cheek, equally adrift in reverie, when a body stepped up to block the sun, putting her in its shadow. “I was hoping I’d run into you again.”

The body belonged to Steve, and he was shirtless, in a pair of navy-blue Staff swim trunks, short and slightly snug against his hairy thighs, and flip flops. His lips were glossy, and even though he wore sunglasses, he had to shield his face with his hand, squinting against the sun so hard that his top lip curled.

Kim tried to speak so fast she coughed, wondering if she looked too frumpy in the suit she had on. What was she thinking? He had to be a good 10 years younger than her, no way he was interested in—

“Kim, right?” He aimed a finger gun at her, but then he struggled a bit with your name, snapping his fingers to ignite recollection.

“And you’re Steve,” Kim's eyes couldn’t help but land on the silver chain nestled in his ample chest hair. “Did you, um, are you working on your tan?”

It took him a second to catch what she was referring to, and then he smirked, pulling a crumpled polo from his back pocket. “I jumped in to cover lifeguard duty for a buddy of mine,” and then he shifted his sunglasses to the top of his head and so did she. “If you ever need a swimming lesson, I’m your guy.”

“You’re a swim instructor too?” Kim asked, impressed. Steve put his hands on his hips, accentuating broad shoulder muscles.

“Nah,” he shrugged, tucking his chin. “But I’d do my best.”

You dropped your gaze to the sketchbook you’d been doodling in, trying to pretend like you weren’t listening. From the headphones around your neck, the song Under the Milky Way by The Church played and a handful of kids ran by you giggling, dusting sand onto your blanket.

Steve wished you a good afternoon just before he excused himself, seemingly headed back to the pool area. You thought he’d been on his way somewhere else, but you were mistaken.

“I think he likes you,” you swirled a few doodles, raising an eyebrow.

“Noooo,” Kim gave a long protest, adjusting the straps of her bathing suit. “He works here, it’s his job to be friendly.

“Yeah? Is it his job to keep checking over his shoulder at you as he walks away?”

Kim peeked just as the man in question tripped over his own feet. Regaining his balance, he waved and said, “I’m okay,” and then proceeded to put his shirt back on as he approached the lifeguard station.

It was your turn to stiffen and feel tingly all over when you spotted Eddie strolling down the sidewalk from the main house, wearing a tool belt loose at his hips to accompany his denim and staff shirt attire.

From the way he knocked that Lance guy out with one punch the other night, you wondered if his hand hurt. Adjusting yourself, you wet your lips, as if he’d spot you or something, which was impossible from that distance. He cut in front of the fenced pool area, heading for the outdoor bar that had a thatched roof like you’d see at a tropical beach. For the first time that day, you noticed that Chrissy was working the area, carting fancy drinks around to the guests at the pool. Her blonde ponytail bobbed as she turned from what she was doing to talk to him.

She dipped her chin a few times in answer to whatever questions he was asking, and then he squeezed her arm affectionately before taking off again.

“Do you want anything from the bar?” You got to your feet, dropping your Walkman to the towel.

Kim cocked her head, considering the question. “Is it too early for alcohol?”

Eddie was back on the path, his back to you as he got further away, but your attention was on Chrissy mixing cocktails in a metal shaker.

“I can see if they have mimosas?” You weren’t thirsty, really, but you were curious.

Kim decided on a bloody mary and asked you to put it on her tab, slipping you a few bucks for a tip.

The smile Chrissy gave you as you approached was polite, but it did not reach her eyes. “What can I get for ya?”

You told her, fumbling over your words a bit, and then waited on one of the five stools for her to make your drinks. She scooped ice into a Styrofoam cup and tossed in a jigger of alcohol. You noticed a gold, heart shaped locket around her neck with something engraved on the front.

“Is it true you used to play with Vixen?” You asked, in awe.

Chrissy’s face fell and she paused to stare at you. “Who told you that?”

“Oh, um, Joyce, she, well—sounded like she was proud of you.”

Chrissy went back to work. “That was a long time ago, back when life was good.”

“It’s not good now?” You were intruding, and you knew it, but still, you couldn’t help yourself.

Chrissy scoffed. “You could say that. Lemon in your tea?”

You nodded, wondering if there was anything you could say or do to cheer her up.

“How long have you and Eddie been together?”

She frowned down at what she was doing. “Eddie’s not my boyfriend,” she corrected. “He’s like a brother to me. Known him since I was a kid.”

“Oh I see,” you pressed your lips together, trying not to appear relieved at that news.

There was a lull of silence as she finished up and you felt compelled to fill it. “I saw you play with the house band last night. I think you’re really talented.”

You could hear the click of her molars gnashing together when she placed both drinks in front of you. “Playing lame cover songs for a no-name house band is the best I can do with my life right now. Music is the only thing I’ve ever cared about.”

You used some of your own cash to give her an even bigger tip and scooped up your drinks.

“Hey, wait,” Chrissy called after you. She rubbed her forehead and tried to smile. “Listen, I’m sorry that I’m, that I’m being such a bitch,” she shrugged. “It’s been a shit couple days.”

You shook your head, cold drinks sweating in your hands, about to tell her that you understood, but the two of you were interrupted.

“Bird, there you are,” you froze at the sound of Troy’s voice. “Glad to see you’re enjoying the amenities.”

Troy had a green and white tennis outfit on with a racket in his hand, and you caught the way Chrissy tensed and quickly turned away at his entrance. She folded the tip you’d left and put it in the front pocket of her apron. He came up close to you—too close, invading your bubble—and so you shuffled back, bumping into one of the stools.

“The staff is treating you well, I hope?” He leaned against the tiki bar, and it was not lost on you that Chrissy pretended to be so busy she didn’t notice him.

“Just about to bring this to my aunt,” you lifted the red drink with the celery stick sticking out of it. You glanced at Chrissy, but she went to the other side of the bar to help someone else. “The service here is impeccable,” you said, loud enough for her to hear.

You headed out and he kept up, sticking by your side. “I’ll walk with you,” he winked.

“Great,” your smile was a tight, thin line.

—-------

Eddie bent at the waist to sip from the stone drinking fountain near one of the utility sheds and splashed water on his face a few times, combing wet fingers through his hair so that his bangs were off his forehead. He worked the cool water around the back of his neck, wondering if he had a sunburn. He loved Indiana for the fall colors and the long winters, but the summer? The summer heat could go fuck itself.

Water was still dripping from his chin and nose when Steve walked up, sunlight through the leaves making patterns on his face.

“Did Robin mention we need to borrow your van tomorrow night?” Steve bent down to take a sip from the fountain after he asked it.

Eddie pulled the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his face, exposing his stomach and trail of hair from his belly button to his waistband. “As long as you don’t bring it back on empty. What’s wrong with your car?”

“We need to pick up a bunch of Robin’s stuff from her ex’s house,” Steve raised his brows high, locking them in place. “Girl is a bit of a psycho, I don’t want Robbie to go alone.

Over Steve’s shoulder, he caught sight of you making your way back to the umbrella with Troy by your side and he hoped that you were smart enough to know that guy was a piece of shit.

“I work late tomorrow, but I’ll help you unload when you get back,” the tip of Eddie’s tongue rested at the corner of his mouth, eyes darting to you again. You weren’t some goddess from the cover of a hotrod magazine, or one of the metal babes who always tried to go down on him when he used to play shows with his old band, but yet, without knowing anything about you, the sight of you made his heart jump into his throat.

“Nah, we got it,” Steve talked as the two started walking. “It’s just a mattress and a chair and some clothes I think. I told her just to let them go, but it's the principle I suppose.”

“I get it man, believe me,” Eddie once drove three states just to get a rare Scorpions concert tee back from an ex who stomped his heart.

“Hey,” Eddie caught Steve before he headed off in the other direction. “Jam at the Hideout tonight?”

They bumped fists. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

—-------

The movie Casablanca was the offering at the outdoor theater that night, and respective families cuddled on the lawn on their various blankets and camp chairs under cover of generous tree branches. Halfway through, you excused yourself from your aunt’s company to find the restroom, and that was when you spotted Chrissy and Troy having what appeared to be a heated conversion at the curve of the sidewalk near the rose garden. You ducked behind a tree just as Humphrey Bogart said one of his infamous lines on the screen.

Since everyone’s attention was occupied elsewhere, no one but you saw the way Chrissy pointed in Troy’s face, only for him to snatch her wrist in a way that made you gasp. She yanked her arm away and turned on her heel, but then he caught up and lunged in front of her. Whatever he said to her then calmed things down for a moment, she stopped trying to break free, and then he cupped her face as if he were about to kiss her, but she shoved away again. That time, he let her go. Hands balled into fists in his pockets, head down, he stormed off in the opposite direction, toward you.

You stood very still, hoping to be mistaken for the thick trunk of the tree, and thankfully, it worked. You came around to glare at his backside, but then trotted after Chrissy. She was long gone, walking as fast as her feet could carry her along the treeline, and you didn’t think she’d appreciate you screaming her name at the top of your lungs in front of the other guests.

It was pure luck that made you take notice of something shiny on the ground, a pile of glistening gold on the sidewalk.

It was a necklace, a heart locket to be exact, much like the one you’d noticed around Chrissy’s neck earlier that day. You ran your thumb over the engraving on the front and let the delicate chain drag along the back of your hand.

You were sure that it belonged to Chrissy, the clasp must’ve broken during the struggle with Troy. You had to get it back to her somehow.

—-------

“Where are you going?” Your dad asked as you sailed through the living room on your way to the door later that evening. He looked at his wristwatch. “It’s almost 11.”

You’d planned on him being in bed already. “I, well, I ahh—” you scrambled for an excuse, something that wasn’t “I’m going off the property to where people fight and get drunk and listen to metal”. You were 21 and technically, by the law of the land, could do anything you wanted, but anyone who has ever traveled with family is familiar with the tendency to be treated like a child infinitely. He loved you, he worried about you, and you didn’t want him to stay up all night pacing, so, you lied.

“There’s a meteor shower tonight, and a bunch of the guests are watching from the boat docks,” god, you hoped he wouldn’t fact check you on that.

He shuffled some saltines absently out of a tin. “You’re still coming on the boat with us tomorrow morning?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you beamed, clenching the front of your jean jacket closed to hide the revealing shirt you wore underneath.

You raced down the porch steps once you were able, dashing into the night with Chrissy’s necklace safe in your pocket.

—-----

A guy in a Black Sabbath shirt and a drastic mullet with hair down his shoulders moved out of the way for you as you crossed the bridge, and then you had to stand there and take a breath. Robin wasn’t with you and you hadn’t been invited to the Hideout this time, maybe they wouldn’t want you? Surely you could find Chrissy at work the next day and give her the necklace then? Fuck it, you were almost there.

You could hear the shrill feedback from a guitar and then someone speaking into a microphone. Was that Eddie’s voice? Your heart raced. People cheered at whatever was said, and then the drum beat kicked in a few times, followed by guitar riffs, and a woman’s voice singing the Vixen intro to Edge of a Broken Heart.

“I can't believe I could have been so blind

But love is strange

I thought about it for a long long time

But the truth remains”

You could feel the music in your chest. Was that Chrissy? Perhaps it was the “band practice” Robin told you about, but the music didn’t sound at all like what you’d expect to hear from the conservative house band. The sliding door was open once you were in view, with people mingling outside, and you dodged around them, sucking in a plume of secondhand smoke from a passerby.

Slithering through a few more bodies, you stepped right over the spot where Lance had gone down the night before, and then you had the perfect view of Chrissy exercising her impressive pipes on the microphone under a few ropes of tiny, pale string lights.

Steve was on bass, hair flopping in his face, his mouth holding an “O” shape as he played. He had on a thin white tee that was soaked through with sweat on the front atop belted blue jeans. Eddie arched back, exposing his throat, his fingers deftly working the strings on his smoke black Warlock guitar. He had a Bark at the Moon shirt on with wide, ripped out arm holes exposing the tattoo work on his ribs. His hair hung in his face when he bent over to play, a frown of concentration knitting his brows together.

Chrissy jabbed her fist in the air for the chorus and the crowd screamed it:

“I've been living on the edge of a broken heart

I don't wanna fall, I don't wanna crawl

I've been living on the edge of a broken heart

Don't you wonder why I gotta say goodbye”

She commanded the stage, playing guitar as she sang. You were too absorbed to realize that you had made your way forward and were right there front and center when Eddie glanced up.

He wasn’t expecting to see you, so he did a dramatic double take, nostrils flaring the moment your eyes connected. Why couldn’t you just stay away?

A smile teased at the corners of your mouth, but faded to an unsure lip bite when he averted his gaze, scowl deepening. He ignored you for the rest of the song.

When it was over, there were cheers and whistles all around. The drummer with the mop of tawny hair twirled one of their drumsticks in the air with a flourish and caught it, clapping the high hat. Voices murmured around you as people fell back into conversation while they had a break from the volume of the amps, and you shuffled to the side, following Chrissy as she took her guitar off and held it by the fretboard. She had on a cropped shirt with her shorts, golden hair loose and wild around her shoulders, her short fingernails painted black. There were a few old, wooden apple box crates stacked on top of each other to act as a makeshift table, and she grabbed the neck of the beer that was waiting there to take a sip.

Eddie continued to play, wailing on the guitar with precision, while Steve and the drummer followed his lead to the tune of Seek and Destroy by Metallica.

You tapped Chrissy on the shoulder, and she jumped. “Oh shit, you scared me,” she said, spinning around. She checked around as if she were expecting to see someone else there. “Where’s Robin? Is she with you?”

“No, I, just a sec—” you dug around in the front pocket of your jacket, panicking for a moment that you forgot to bring the locket with you. “I found this on the sidewalk, and I thought maybe you dropped it?”

Chrissy gasped at the sight of it and her eyes began to water. “How did you–?” A sob caught in her throat, and she reached out to gently take it from you. She shook her head in disbelief. “I looked everywhere, I thought it was gone forever, I—”

“I thought that was you!” It was Robin, bobbing on the balls of her feet as she came up to nudge your shoulder. But then, her attention turned to Chrissy and her face tensed with concern. “What happened, why are you crying?”

“No, no,” Chrissy sniffed and opened her fist to show Robin the piece of jewelry. “It’s my grandmother’s locket I told you about. Bird found it.”

Robin bent to get a closer look and the two women knocked their heads together, sharing a laugh. “The clasp is broken though,” Chrissy mused. “It must’ve come off when—” she swallowed, deciding not to finish that sentence. “I’ll take it into town to get it fixed this weekend.”

“Give it here, I’ll fix it for you,” Robin volunteered. “Not only can I unclog a toilet, but I’m also pretty crafty.”

“Y-you’d do that for me?” She asked as she was passing it over.

“Of course,” Robin chuckled. “I’d do anything for y—I mean, what are friends for right?”

Chrissy turned her attention back to thank you properly when Steve pushed in between the other two girls and slung his arms around their shoulders. “What's going on?”

Robin cringed. “Gross, Dingus, you’re all sweaty,” to which he shook his head and droplets from his hair flew everywhere, making the girls scream and push him off.

The three of them got into conversation about something and you sank back against the corrugated metal wall to observe. You hadn’t noticed the music stopped but the drummer was in the crowd having a beer and just as you were on your toes trying to find Eddie, a warm body sank in next to you.

“Hey,” Eddie said.

You looked just in time to catch his gaze traveling down your body, but then he was quick to lift his beer to his mouth and pretended to be watching the crowd.

“Hey,” you returned, suddenly full sentences and conversation felt so foreign. You were acutely aware that there was plenty of space along the wall, but he was pressed close, bare arm touching yours.

“They let you stay out this late on a school night?” He grinned against the aluminum rim, amusing himself. He had a second beer in his other hand, and he passed it to you.

“Ha. Ha.”

He had one knee bent with his foot on the wall while the other leg stretched long to show the heavily scuffed toe of his black boot.

You shuddered despite the heat. “So, how long have you and Chrissy been playing music together?”

He hummed, shifting so that his bicep rubbed against you, squinting one eye shut in thought, tilting his head back. “Been something like a decade now, I think? Feels longer. Feels like I’m 60 years old some days.”

“How old are you though?” You swallowed so hard your throat clicked. “45? 50?”

He leaned into you, hard enough to push you over if your feet weren’t planted, his hair skimming your shoulder. “Close enough,” he paused to say something else, but then puffed out his cheeks and exhaled.

He wanted to ask how long you’d been playing the cello, but how would he even know you did without admitting he’d watched you that night from the street like a stalker? “Do you think you’re gonna stick around, watch us play some more?”

“I could,” you were about to add something super cheesy like, “if you want me to,” but opted for nonchalant. “I love watching Chrissy play.”

He nodded a few times, and pushed off the wall, handing you his beer. “Hold this for me?” His silky brown eyes locked onto yours, the tip of his tongue resting between parted lips. “Please?”

There you were, holding Eddie Munson’s beer. He got behind the mic and took his shirt all the way off to wipe his face with it before strapping his guitar on. The next song they did was an original, something that Eddie and Chrissy wrote, and Chrissy came in on backup vocals, while Eddie growled out the lyrics, banging his head every so often. He swiped his bangs from his forehead, wet with perspiration, and his fingers worked like magic along the strings. At one point, he and Chrissy shared the same mic, belting out the words.

He made eye contact with you three times, not that you were counting. Each time longer than the last. When it was over, he came out and took his beer from you, fingers touching as he did so.

“Eddie, I think I—” you were about to let him know you should probably get going, but he’d already turned, chugging the rest of the beer as he went, and then they were right into the next song.

Eddie wasn’t sure why you made him so curious, but the voices in his head were screaming at him to shake it off. Somehow, he’d gone four years without getting involved with a summer person, he’d never even been tempted really. Nothing good could come of it, especially since he’d probably end up being nothing but a vacation fuck for you to brag to your friends about.

He glanced around but couldn’t find you during the song. When he went to check for you at the wall, you were gone.

---

thank you again for the love on this and for reading!

---

taglist: @micheledawn1975@kurdtbean@katethetank@elvendria@spookysqaush86@somethingvicked@stylesxmunson@laurenlokirby@sapphire4082 @kellsck @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @justdamnpeachy @dashingdeb16 @corrodedcoffincumslut @bexreadstoomuch @ohmeg@marrowfrog00

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson series #Eddie Munson fic #Dirty Metal Summer #dms updates #Steve Harrington #Eddie munson x fem!reader #dirty dancing au

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tiredmamaissy · 1 year

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Is That So?

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Main Characters: Lo’ak Sully (19) x fem Metkayina Reader y/n (19)

Supporting Characters: Ao’nung (20)

Warnings: NSFW, smut, fluff, smean dom Lo’ak, brat/sub reader, profanity, jealous/territorial behaviour, knotting, marking, oral sex, rough/make up sex, mild angst, overstimulation, minor degradation, soft ending

Word Count: 5.5k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Hey anon! I hope this is okay. I kind of changed things up a bit because I did a similar piece but with Neteyam (Eyes For You). Enjoy <3

Synopsis: You and Lo’ak had a secret relationship. He ended things suddenly and painfully. You sought comfort with Ao’nung. Lo’ak witnesses this, intervenes and reclaims you as his.

Intro:

Lo’ak and his family sought uturu in your village a few months ago. Olo’eyktan, Tonowari, put the responsibility of teaching the sully family the ways of the Metkayina on you and his daughter, Tsireya and her brother, Ao’nung. Lo’ak proved to have a harder time adapting to the water than his siblings. As a result, you and him have spent a lot of time together, especially one on one breathing lessons. Ever since, you two have been sneaking around and spending ‘quality’ time together – keeping it a secret from everyone.

----

Lo’ak quickly repositions his loincloth and sheathes his hunting knife onto his hip. You watch him intently as you lean back onto the tree, trying to catch your breath. He’s always quick to leave after you and him finish the deed, grabbing his belongings and making an excuse before he goes. You knew it was coming soon.

“Uhm, y/n.” He looks down at your naked body. “I need to -”

“Go? Yeah. I know.” You say, turning your head away from him.

You can’t deny that it hurts you every time he does this.

“You didn’t even let me finish. My brother, he needs m-” he starts, only to be cut off by you again.

“He needs you to help him with something?” You look at up at him, raising your brows slightly. “Yeah. I know.” You repeat, feeling disappointed.

Lo’ak realizes that you’re upset – it was hard not to. He kneels, meeting you at your eye level.

“What is it? Are you upset with me?” he takes your hand in his.

Here we go again with the mixed signals. He says one thing and then does another. He says he can’t stay to cuddle but when you get upset about it he does this – grabbing your hands, acting like he cares about your happiness. You roll your eyes and shake your head, batting his hand off yours.

“Just, stop with the lies, Lo’ak. Just say that you want to leave... that you don’t want to stay, rather than you ‘can’t’.”

He looks at you dumbfounded, like you just told him you were with child.

“Yeah, and stop with the mixed signals, too. One minute you’re acting so loving and caring, and the next you act like you don’t want anything to do with me.” You spit, standing up to put on your loincloth.

“Y/n... I’m sorry. I - I should have been more honest with you. It’s – it’s not even what you think.” He drops his head, brushing his hands over his braids as he steps back. He looks back up at you, with big, glowing, golden saucers.

You look at him, searching his eyes for something – anything. To hear the words ‘its not what you think’ makes you feel that maybe – just maybe, there was a good reason behind all his actions. Something to pardon him of his assholish behavior. It brings hope to your heart, that maybe one day you can have what you want... him.

The truth is, he’s promised to another na’vi. No matter how badly he wants to be your mate – your one and only, he can’t. Not only would he be a huge disappointment to his father, but he would let down the Olo’eyktan, as he’s promised to his daughter – your best friend. Which is another reason why he never marked, knotted or made the bond with you.

Lo’ak found Tsireya beautiful – stunning, even. But her beauty compared no where near to yours. He wants nothing more than to stop sneaking around, to just be able to do something as simple as holding your hand around your friends. But the pressure from his father is immense, and the pressure from Tonowari is even worse.

He knew that inevitably this would have to come to an end. Neither of you or Tsireya know about the betrothment yet, seeing that Tonowari is waiting for him to become Metkayina first. Regardless, there were too many reasons why this wouldn’t work out.

Seeing the hope in your eyes, it dawns on him that the only way to do this would be the hard way – to hurt you. Hurt you to the point where you wouldn’t want to come back.

“I can’t be in anything serious with you.” he states. “I just don’t like you in that way.” He lies, gritting his teeth, not wanting to say the words.

He sees the hurt in your eyes, as they well with tears. He watches your brows pull closely together, and your bottom lip quiver. He hated seeing you upset – seeing you sad. It broke his heart, but it hurt even more knowing that he was the one making you feel this way.

He swiftly turns his head, focusing on the waterfall nearby, not being able to stand the sight of you hurting. He closes his eyes briefly, and exhales loudly through his nose. “You were a good fuck. But nothing more. We... we should see other na’vi.”

You’re speechless. Frozen in time. Trying your absolute hardest not to drop to your kneels and bawl your eyes out. All you can do is stare at the shell of a person who you thought you once knew – the person who took your virtue, as he walks away from you.

Lo’ak makes his way to his ikran, connecting his queue to it, before stopping in his tracks to look at his feet. “My heart has always been promised to Tsireya.” he mutters under his breath, mounting his banshee and flying away – not wanting to see the mess he left behind.

Now, that stung.

You were left behind in the jungle, alone with your thoughts. The words are like a blow to your back, strong enough to completely knock the wind out of you. You find yourself stumbling backwards, slumping against the tree before sliding down to your knees. Your heart hurt. It hurt so bad you could feel the pain in your chest. It burns, even. It’s as if he set fire to your heart and walked away to let you turn into ash. No number of tears that you shed could put it out.

You had to seek relief elsewhere – a distraction from the pain.

----

It’s been two weeks since Lo’ak left you in the jungle to sit in a puddle of your own tears. Since you've had to endure your heat in your marui pod alone, something he would usually help you with. You took that week off not only to endure it alone, but to give yourself some space away from Lo'ak and Tsireya.

Your feelings of despair have morphed into feelings of resentment. How could he do this to you? How could he just take what he wanted and leave you like that? Leave you alone in heat? It was unfair. You feel cheated. What hurt the most is that it’s your best friend of all people - driving a rift between the two of you.

It became awkward when the group finally came together, especially for hunting trips. Both you and Lo’ak pretended like nothing happened, because no one knew about your relationship to begin with. Tsireya didn’t quite understand why you were being so cold and distant, which pushed her even closer to Lo’ak.

Seeing their relationship strengthen over time drove you closer to Ao’nung. You knew he always had a thing for you from you were both kids. You also knew to never entertain it, the son of Olo’eyktan would never be allowed to mate with you. You were simply the daughter of a warrior and healer of the clan. But maybe, you could use him – just this once.

----

“Ao’nung!” you shout, trying to get his attention among the group.

He turns his head in your direction, seeing you signal him to come with your hand. He makes his way over to you on his ilu.

“Yes, sweets?” he smirks, having your ilus circle one another.

He’s always been flirty with you, calling you all sorts of nicknames – sweets, my lovely, cutie, pretty – the list is endless.

“Hi, you.” you mumble, not sure what to say.

“Need me for something?” he asks, peering at you through his brows.

You look behind him briefly, seeing that Lo’ak and your best friend are side by side, laughing with one another. It makes you... angry, more than sad. Sure, it still stings your heart, but as more time passes, vengeful feelings make their way to the forefront. You want to get back at him for doing this to you – for acting so normally.

“No. I – I mean yes.” You stutter, feeling nervous about what you’re about to do. “I... just wanted... to talk, I guess.” Your words are drawn out, lengthy and uncertain.

He gives you a puzzled look, not wanting to make any advances if you were unsure.

“Okay, my lovely. I’m here. What did you want to talk about?” he smiles, looking you up and down.

“Uhm...” you hum, looking around at the ocean, trying to find something else to focus on.

Your eyes pass by Lo’ak, who is now intently watching your interaction with Ao’nung with a straight face, patiently waiting for something to unfold. You decide to look back at Ao’nung, scanning his body up and down too. It’s undeniable – he’s handsome, well built, and muscular.

His ribs are wide, something that’s seen as desirable and admirable here. It means that he’s an experienced diver, able to hold his breath for long periods of time. Why would someone like Ao’nung, son of Olo’eyktan, like someone like you? Maybe you could let yourself dream a little; allow yourself to get lost in the man before you, even if it’s farfetched.

“Like what you see?” he asks jokingly, trying to hold back his smirk.

You drop your gaze and let loose a breathy chuckle, you didn’t realise that you were lingering.

“Actually...” you trace up his body with your eyes, meeting his gaze once more. “...I do.” You try to hide your smile as you feel your face heat up.

You watch him move even closer to you, with a huge grin on his face. He rests his hand on your thigh as his eyes search your body, stopping his gaze at your breasts.

“I like what I see, too.” he says huskily, shooting his gaze back up to yours.

His face becomes serious, as he moves his hand slowly up your thigh. Your heart starts thumping, hard. All from his simple touch.

Am I into this right now? you wonder, taking note of your racing heart.

The heat pooling in your chest confirms it for you, as it slowly makes it’s way down to your pelvis in waves. You glance down at his hand sliding up your thigh, gliding towards the flesh between your legs. Looking back up at him, you rest your hand over his, and guide it to your hip, hooking his fingers under your loincloth.

Yeah. I’m into this. You hype yourself up, trying to get rid of your anxiety.

The tension is off the charts. You can tell from the way he’s tugging at your loincloth that he would rip it off and take you right now, right here.

And you’d let him.

You slide your hand over his strake (fin like structure on the forearm), and squeeze his thick, veiny bicep. Unbeknownst to you, Lo’ak left Tsireya and Neteyam, and made his way over to you, breaking the tension with Ao’nung.

The sight makes him queasy, to see you touch another man in that way. Mostly, it infuriates him, making him see red. On top of his hot temperament, seeing this scene unfold in front of him sends him into a silent frenzy. Gritting his teeth, Lo’ak firmly grabs you by the arm.

“Y/n. A word.” He spits, pulling your hand off Ao’nung’s bicep as he rides away on his ilu.

You don’t follow him. Instead, you shoot him a puzzled look - confused as to why he’s even over here trying to talk to you.

Didn’t this man just tell me to see other na’vi?

Lo’ak looks back to see that you haven’t budged. “Y/n! Now.” He demands, shooting you that look.

You scoff loudly, shaking your head before apologizing to Ao’nung. You know what that look means, it means he’s not happy with you. It means, you’ve been a bad girl. It means…

You must be disciplined.

You begrudgingly pull away from Ao’nung’s sweet touch, becoming even angrier with Lo’ak for ruining this for you, too. You ride your ilu roughly, following him to what seems to be…

The cove of the ancestors?

You two had only ever gone there once - only because your spot in the jungle was taken by Neteyam and his mate. You chuckle at the memory. Both he and his mate were surprised to see you and Lo’ak walk towards them. You had to lie and tell them that you were teaching him a lesson in the lake nearby.

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the happy memories you and him once had. You will yourself to recall the horrible things he said to you two weeks ago. As you two approach the rocky coast of the cove of the ancestors, you dismount your ilus and stand face to face.

“What is it, Lo’ak?” You croak, already holding back your angry tears. “I thought you were done with me.”

“Why the fuck were Ao’nung’s fingers under your loincloth?” He shouts, turning his back on you.

“Really? This is what you brought me all the way out here for?” You hiss, turning around to mount your ilu.

You feel him grab your arm again, even rougher this time, and pull you into him. You see his face contorted with rage – his eyes green from envy. You’d never seen him this upset before, you could practically see his stream coming through his nostrils.

“I thought you told me to see other na’vi.” You mutter. “Go fuck Tsireya or something.” You shrug him off you, matching his rage.

“Fuck. Y/n.” He spits, clenching his jaw. “Agh. You - fuck. You really know how to piss me off.”

“Yeah? Likewise, asshole.” you mutter, rolling your eyes before turning away from him.

He pulls you back in, grabbing you by the jaw. “You’re mine.” He growls deeply, looking directly into your eyes. “Understood?”

“Is that so?” The words come out muffled as you try to rip away from the firm grip he has on your face.

“Let go, Lo’ak” you grimace, feeling his fingers dig into your skin.

Suddenly, his gaze softens, realizing that he’s hurting you. He lets go and takes a step back, dropping his head.

“I’m sorry” he mumbles, feeling terrible for handling you so roughly. “When I saw him touch you like that… when I saw you touch him like that…” he struggles to get his words out.

You can already feel yourself softening at his words. Your feelings for him were too strong to deny… to ignore. You stand there, in silence, allowing him the chance to speak – to redeem himself.

“I… I see you, y/n.” He says seriously, putting your hand against his chest.

Tears roll down your cheeks. Hearing him say these words brings too many emotions to you at once. You pull away, afraid of being hurt again. He grabs your hand, placing it back onto his chest, afraid that he’s really losing you.

“Please... just listen.” He pleads, furrowing his brows. “My father. Tonowari. They want me to be Tsireya's mate.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want this, I don’t want... her. But you know the pressure they put me under. I’m sorry I said those horrible things to you...” he drops his head again, allowing his tears to fall on the ground.

“I didn’t mean a single word.”

There you go, completely soft for the man that stands before you, all over again. Your feelings come crashing back into you like they never left. Because they didn’t. You can’t even figure out how you feel, as so many emotions and thoughts are coursing through you all at once.

“So, when I saw you and Ao’nung.” He mutters under his breath.

You witness a sudden change in his demeanour, as he embodies that of an akula. You watch as his amber eyes turn into a deep gold as they trace their way up your body, to look deeply into yours.

“… it makes me want to fuck the sense back into you” he growls.

A fire lights within your chest, just like the one he lit when he left you in the jungle alone. But this time, it burns brighter, bigger – hotter. You step towards him, maintaining eye contact. You come face to face with the akula and challenge him.

“So do it.” You taunt, brushing your chest against his. “Fuck me.” You whisper.

In an instant he has his hand wrapped tightly around your throat, backing you up against the rocky cove.

“Say that again, little one.” He snarls.

“I said. Fuck. Me.” You moan, staring up at him as you caress the arm that pins you against the cove.

He chuckles. “Let’s do it.” He drops his smile, turning you around and pushing you against the rough wall.

You let out breathy laugh, happy that you’re finally getting what you want. He holds your face firmly against the cove with one hand, and tugs your loincloth down your legs with the other.

“What? Don’t think I’ll make you mine? Hmm? Right here? Right now?” he pants into your ear as he kicks your legs apart.

His eager movements make the fire within your chest even hotter. “I don’t.” you tease.

“Watch me.” He growls, licking your ear, hurriedly untying his own loincloth.

He presses his thick cock against you whilst he kisses the nape of your neck. “We are in the most sacred place, are we not?” he mumbles into your neck, brushing his sharp fangs against your skin.

You can’t even form a coherent thought, you’re too overwhelmed by his insistent touches. All you can think about is how badly you want him to ram his cock inside of you, to fuck the sense back into you – to discipline you. The sensation of his teeth rubbing against you makes you pant, hard.

Without warning, he marks you. Sinking his teeth into your skin, sucking slightly as he draws blood. You whimper loudly, wriggling under his grasp, feeling the wetness between your thighs drip down your legs. He unlatches and licks the wound.

“Mine.” He whispers directly into your ear, pressing his bulge between your lips.

It makes your luminescence flicker, being tamed by his touch in this way. You’re panting heavily at this point, feeling your heart thump uncontrollably. If he didn’t fuck you soon, you’d lose it.

“Oh, please...” you breathe shakily, backing yourself up onto him. “...I’m still not yours.”

Teasing Lo’ak like this would only get you one thing – punished. You want the beast within him to come out and play, to obliterate you completely.

Just like that, the beast came out to play.

“Fuck, woman.” He presses your face even harder against the wall as he hurriedly rubs his cock against you cunt, coating it with your thick slick.

“Say that again.” He growls, lining up his tip with your aching hole.

He really growled this time, right into your ear. It frightens you, making you nervous to repeat yourself.

“I’m still... not you- Fuck!” you yelp, being cut off by him ramming his entire length into you in one, hard thrust.

“Not what?” he whispers breathily, pressing his cockhead firmly against your cervix.

“Ugh... f-fuck Lo’ak.” You moan loudly, melting into his rough touches.

He pulls his cock all the way out of you, leaving the tip in. “Not. What?” he repeats.

“No... please.” You beg him, feeling so empty.

“Say it, you little slut.” He growls, squeezing your hip with his free hand.

“Fuck. I’m yours. I’m yours!” you shout, trying to rock back into him.

“That’s right. You are mine.” He plants a sloppy kiss on your neck as he slams his entire length back into you.

You squeal loudly, trying to keep your noises to a minimum.

“No. Moan for me, so that boy toy of yours can hear you.” he slams his cock into you once more.

“Ughhh. Lo’ak!” you let loose a lengthy, high-pitched moan.

“Just like that” he smiles into your neck.

Lo’ak moves his hand from your hip to your cunt, using two fingers to rub circles onto your swollen clit. He’s pounding into you so roughly that your legs feel like they're about to give out. Swiftly moving his other hand from your head down to the thin cloth covering your breasts, he fiddles with it, untying the knot in a hurry. It falls off you, exposing your erect nipples.

“Every part of you. It’s all mine. All of it.” He grunts into your shoulder, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

You feel so dazed – so out of it. He’s giving you the pounding of your life, whilst massaging your clit and nipple at the same time. You couldn’t think straight, much less answer him. You close your eyes tightly, trying to focus on one sensation at a time, so not to cry from the extreme overstimulation. But it’s all too much.

“...mmn. Lo’ak... Please! It’s too fucking much! Stop!” You whine loudly, trying to pull his hand away from your clit.

“I tell you *slam* to go see *slam* other na’vi *slam* and you actually do it? You listen to me too well.” He pants, thrusting his hips even faster into you.

“Please! Lo’ak I can’t take anymore!” You cry out, moving your other hand behind you, pushing his pelvis away from you.

“Cum for me, then I’ll give you a break.” He breathes, pushing even harder against you.

Each thrust makes your lewd noises louder and louder. He sets a merciless rhythm, rutting his hips into you ruthlessly, insisting with his thrusts that you cum on his throbbing, veiny cock. He matches the speed of his fingers with his hips, fondling with your pearl even faster. You let loose little, whiney mewls as you can’t hold back anymore. Giving into the immense pleasure, you release your tensed muscles, allowing yourself to cum at last.

“Cumming! Cumming! Cumming!” you repeat loudly, hoping he’ll hear you and stop.

But he doesn’t.

Your legs are shaking uncontrollably, just like your pussy pulsing violently around his cock, releasing your essence all over it. He’s still pounding into you, feeling no pity for your trembling body.

“I came Lo’ak! Please!” you beg, clawing at Lo’ak’s arm.

“Shh, little one. It’s alright, you can take it.” He reassures you, planting hickeys along your shoulders, ramming his cock even deeper into you. “It’s what you deserve for being a little slut. For touching Ao’nung.” He growls, pressing even harder against your clit.

“No! No... please!” you cry out, begging him repeatedly for mercy.

Tears stream down your face as you sob from the overstimulation. It feels like your clit is on fire, like your bladder is going to burst – like you’re going to cum all over again.

“I feel you heating up again, my sweetheart. It’s okay, you can cum.” He groans in your ear.

You sob loudly, as your face reddens from the swelling of your sweet spot. He’s fucking right into it, trying to make you gush all over him again. You feel your body pushing him out of you, tensing up again as you reach your second climax.

“Here? Right?” he pants, bucking his hips even harder into your sweet spot.

“F-fuck! Yes! Yes! Yes!” You sob as your entire body convulses, pushing his cock out of you while you squirt your nectar all over your trembling legs.

He pulls his hands away from your sore nipple and clit, wrapping them tightly around your waist to keep your knees from buckling. You slump into him, breathing erratically as you come down from your high.

“Shh... Shh. You did well, baby.” He whispers, lowering you onto your knees. “Here is your little break...” he grabs a fist full of your hair, turning you around to face his huge cock. “...you earned it.”

He looks down at your watery, drunk eyes as he pushes his cock into your face. “Taste yourself.”

You take a deep breath, before taking his tip into your mouth. From all the sobbing and begging from earlier, you had enough spit for him to slide his entire length into your mouth easily. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag. His head dips back as he releases guttural groans into the air.

“Fuck.” he moans, pulling himself out of you. “Lie down and spread your legs for me.”

You know better by now not to disobey his orders. You were too fucked out to even talk back. You lay down on the mossy rock beneath you and open your weak legs. He sees your inebriated, weary eyes, and starts to pity you.

“Alright, my love. You’re okay.” He hums, gently wrapping your limp legs around his hips.

He crouches over you, looking deeply in your eyes, realizing how far he went. He wipes your tears away with the back of his hand and leans in to kiss you softly. He moves his wet kisses down to your shoulders, planting a kiss over every hickey he left behind.

“Do you want to stop?” he mumbles into your shoulder.

You look down to see his raging erection, jumping at the sight of your slit. “But you haven’t calmed down yet.” You mumble.

“So? It does not matter.” He mutters, unwrapping your legs from his hips.

“No, don’t.” you purr, tightening your legs around him, pulling him closer to you. “Keep going.”

He stops briefly, searching for your bluff in your eyes. You pull him his face closer to yours and kiss him feverishly. “I want you inside me, Lo’ak.”

You both watch as his cock disappears slowly into your body, inch by inch. Your gazes meet again now that you are forehead to forehead. He rocks into you languidly, as he caresses your thighs. Your breath hitches when his pelvis meets yours.

“You okay?” he asks, worried that you’re in pain.

“Mhm, feels good.” You breathe into his mouth.

“Y/n.” he states, thrusting lazily into you.

“Mmm?” you hum, closing your eyes to immerse yourself in pleasure.

“Will you be my mate?” he pants as his hips buck into you a little faster.

Your eyes fly open, surprised that he asked you that. He can see the shock in your face and kisses you gently.

“I mean it. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care what happens if I go against my father. Or Tonowari.” He pants between kisses. “I want you to be mine. For life.”

Here we go, crying again. The words touched your heart in a way you’ve always wanted his words to. He pulls away and hushes you, wiping away your tears once more.

“Don’t cry, my sweetheart.” He whispers, leaning back in to kiss you once more. “You mean more to me than anything else.”

You feel like you can’t get the words out – you’re so choked up. Instead, you just tug at his queue, bringing it over his shoulder.

“Say the words, my love. I don’t want to do this if you’re not sure.” He stops his movements, sitting up slightly.

You nod quickly, still tugging at his queue. “Yes, Lo’ak. Yes.”

His eyes lit up as the corner of his lips curved upwards. Lifting your head with one hand, he uses the other to stroke the length of your queue, bringing it over your shoulder. Taking his queue in your hand, you bring them together, watching them intertwine with one another. You both take a sharp breath when the bond is made, feeling each other’s breath, the thump of your hearts... the love you have for one another.

“I see you, my mate.” Lo’ak croaks, holding back his tears.

“I see you, ma Lo’ak.” You cry, kissing him passionately.

His hips rock into you once more, picking up speed quickly now that he can feel your arousal – your desire for him. He’s so deep inside of you it feels like he’s about to pierce through your cervix, right into your womb. He’s never gone this deep before. You struggle to catch your breath, as you look up into the sky to see the eclipse occurring.

How long have we been at this?

The fire in your chest is overflowing, trickling down your spine right into your womb. You feel sensations you’ve never felt before. You’re synced with him, feeling his climax quickly approaching. Not only that, but you can feel something else – something bigger asking for permission to come inside of you. Worried, you search your mates’ eyes for answers.

“Feel that?” he grunts, pushing his knot against your entrance. “’tis my knot. You think you can take it?” he asks breathlessly, through pursed lips and furrowed brows.

He’s never knotted you before. He always made up some excuse before, about why knotting is off the table. All you can muster up the energy to do is nod, as you open your legs even more to accommodate him.

“Wait. Did you get your heat?” he pants, trying to figure out the chances of getting you pregnant if he knots you right now.

“I – I got it... the week you left me. Mmn... The week that I took off - Ugh!” You whimper, feeling his knot trying to burrow its way inside of you.

“Fuck. Y/n. You should have told me.” He grunts, pushing his pelvis into you even more.

“I didn’t know! I thought... you told me... Oh – oh shit. Lo’ak that’s too big!” you blabber as your head feels cloudy. “I can’t –”

“Only I can calm your heat, y/n.” he grits his teeth, gripping your hips and pulling them closer to his.

Images of Ao’nung calming you during your heat unwillingly flashes through your mind. You can feel the jealously bubbling in Lo’ak’s chest - his territorial urges taking charge. He’s going to knot you, whether you like it or not. You hold on tightly to your mate, bracing yourself for Lo'ak to claim you as his.

You feel your pussy stretch to incomprehensible lengths as he shoves your hips down onto his thick, purple, veiny knot. Your moans start as low, lengthy mewls, eventually morphing into loud, strained grunts as it pops inside of you. You bury your face into his neck, breathing in his natural scent.

His cock throbs, spurting thick ropes of warm, sticky seed deep inside your womb. You hear his guttural groans and grunts right next to your ear, as he rocks into you every so often, ensuring to fill you to the brim.

“Mine.” He growls, slumping onto you.

“Lo’ak.” You croak, barely being able to breathe. “You’re squishing me.”

“Mmm.” He groans, rolling onto his back, bringing you with him.

You’re on top of him now, laying stomach to stomach, whilst your face is nestled into his chest. You take a few deep breaths, before closing your heavy-lidded eyes.

----

After caring for one another, you both make your way back to the village. Arriving at the shore, you dismount your ilus and walk hand in hand to the mangroves where you meet the displeased gaze of the Olo’eyktan and Jake. Behind them stood the rest of the sully family, and Tonowari’s family.

Everyone is trying to get a glance at the two of you through the two big-bodied men that stand before you. You both bow, sweeping your fingers from your forehead towards them, acknowledging their presence. They look at each of you, and then down to your intertwined fingers. Jake is visibly resisting the urge to skin his son in front of everyone, and Tonowari is giving you a very disappointed look. Ronal steps forward, looking the two of you up and down as she circles you both.

“Tonowari. What is this?” she yells, causing both your ears to lay flat.

Lo’ak lets go of your hand and steps in front of you.

“We are mated...” he mumbles, looking at his feet. “...for life.”

“That’s enough.” Jake interrupts, hissing under his teeth.

Lo’ak shakes his head, stepping back to hold your hand once more. “It is done. Before Eywa.” he looks up at his father, and Olo’eyktan.

Ao’nung makes his appearance, walking swiftly from behind his father, eyes locked tightly onto Lo’ak holding your hand. Lo’ak strides forward, almost lunging at Ao’nung. You pull him back to you, and tug on his arm.

“Don’t. Were already in a lot of shit, Lo'ak.” You whisper, squeezing his hand tightly.

“I don’t care. You are my mate, now.” he whispers loudly, hoping Ao’nung and the rest can hear him.

“Is that so?” you mutter under your breath, dropping your head to hide your grin.

Tags:@jakexneytiri @sweethoneycn @deadgirl02 @keijis-wifey @pandorxx @swiftielivvie @teyamfangirl @bl-lover-yaoi @sooebear @vanillawhale @bxnnywriting @athenachu @trashboat-the-raccoon @avaixe @itssiaaax @qweq-6802 @rodeosayu @girlpostingsposts @jakesullysbabygirl @rinloversworld @agelsully @zetey @boooogieman @jiafeimagic @eywascall @yawneneteyam @weirdomcu @pandxrastars @eichenhouseproperty @camgod78 @kibiscribbles @bedofpearls @kurtsworld096 @audrinawf @otukirey @deexdeez @c78r @bby-bo @neteyamsmate4life @wheniseeyouigogonutz @sullymenrhot @jakescumdump

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losrpen · 4 days

Text

MDNI 18+ (smut)

“dont go that route baby.”

(geto x afab! reader, HARD D0M GETO!! rough s3x, choking, daddy k!nk n sum other stuff? aftercare (idrk) … THIS IS DIRTYYYYYY!)

not proofread.

“geto! im gonna wear what i want!”

you told geto you were going to a halloween party, and you picked the sluttiest, nurse outfit you could find. preferably so he could get mad, you love his stern voice. something about it makes you feel warm inside.

“angel, when you bend over your whole ass is out, i don’t want anyone seeing that. couldn’t you put shorts underneath?”

he asked politely, he just wanted your ass to be covered, he was always protective like that.

“i dont want to!”

you pouted, in your slutty nurse outfit, white and red, beyond a mini skirt at this point. you were spraying your perfume, it was sweet and smelt like mangos and peaches.

“stop being a fucking brat! all i did was ask for you to put shorts underneath!”

he was getting mad, it was pretty obvious. you found it funny for some reason, you didn’t let it come out though.

“geto! im wearing this whether u like it or not! gosh just be understanding for once!”

that did it, he was completely pissed off. why could you just listen?

“princess. come here. now. on my lap, up.”

you slowly walk over, he gets up to grab u and he sits back down bringing you onto his lap.

“baby, im always understanding, i do whatever you ask me to do. i don’t argue cause i don’t think its worth it, i buy you whatever you want. anything, i give you everything, in exchange for one thing, you listen to what i ask you to do. and i barely ask you to do anything, isn’t that right angel?”

you feel cold shivers everywhere, god he was so hot… but you know your in trouble now.

“ye..yes… i guess…”

“so princess, if i ask you to do something small, like put shorts underneath your skirt. don’t you think you should do it? and im not asking because i cant fight, i can fight and i will fight anyone who dares to fucking touch you. its just, if you saw someone who was wearing a thong underneath that revealing little costume, and its cold out, and they had no covering. what would you think?”

you started to feel warm all over, the things this man did to you.

“that… that they were a hooker? maybe…”

“tsk…tsk…. wrong again princess, its that you would look available, since i havent put a ring on that pretty finger yet princess… and i wouldnt be there to show you off…. so angel, bend over my knee and ill give you your punishment.”

he removes his hands from your waist to allow you bend over his knee, this was going to hurt.

“20 spanks with my hand, 10 with my belt, and 10 with the paddle. okay princess? this is meant to give you a lesson, i will be mean. and rough. bad angels dont stay in there good spot forever, but they earn it back okay? if you need to stop you know the signal and the safe words.”

“daddy…. its (sniffle) going to hurt…”

you always cry your way out of things because geto always lets it go, he wont this time. you will be getting you punishment.

“no angel, no tears… youll get your punishment whether you like it or not. since you wanna be a crybaby, should i make it worse?”

he pouts, mocking you.

“daddy! stop teasing me and just punish me already! i have my party to go to! your so annoying!”

youre acting a brat again, you shouldve kept your mouth shut.

“no angel. no, shut your fucking mouth. okay? bad angels dont get treated like good ones.”

he pulls your hair back so your looking at him, he slaps you multiple times, back and forth till your mouth starts stinging really bad, and finally he back hands you, and your lip starts to bleed. he lets go of your hair, but makes sure to keep your head up, and he places a hand over your mouth.

“now angel, lets get started okay? aw… i forgot you couldnt talk! what about i just pull this slutty fucking skirt down…”

he accidentally rips it, so he just rips the thong too. leaving you bare and exposed to the cold air.

“oops! sorry angel… guess you cant go huh?”

he starts spanking you with his hand, each strike getting harder and harder, your ass becoming a bright red.

“mhm… good… good angel..”

he gets the paddle now, and starts to hit you repeatedly and you cry into the gag, screaming, and struggling against his lap.

next is the belt, its a metal belt with the spikes on it, he hits you once, harshly, the spikes digging into the bright red plump flesh of your ass. he continues to hit it with the belt until he reaches ten. he takes the gag out of your mouth.

“okay princess… shh… shhh…. come here come here… its okay…. its okay….”

he pulls you back into his lap, you facing his big manly chest, he lays back into the bed holding you close, his hand rubbing gently onto the welts and red flesh on your ass. your tears are muffled into his shirt as he continues caring for you.

“see? your a good angel now. good angel… shh, its gonna be okay…. you want an ice pack? (you shake your head no) okay… okay princess… i got you…”

#geto suguru #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #smut #rough kink #jjk #jujutsu geto

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slytherinshua · 10 months

Text

LOVE LESSONS

genre. fluff. mutual pining. whc1 w/o the angst au. warnings. they're both whipped. pairing. sieun x fem!reader. wc. 2.6k. (wish it was longer damn) request. no. a/n. happy birthday @yeonjuns-redhair i love you so so so so much you'd better enjoy it 🔪

Sieun hadn’t taken much interest in girls during his life. Other than the fleeting first crush he had when he was fourteen, girls had been the last thing on his mind as he focused all his energy into his grades. But there was just something about you that Sieun couldn’t ignore. Without realising it, he was falling head over heels in love with you and he didn’t even have the courage to speak a single word to you.

You sat a seat up from Sieun one row over, a spot which allowed him to admire you silently whenever he wanted (which was increasingly becoming the only thing he wanted to do). Whenever the window was open on a warmer day, the breeze would always reach your hair and blow in just the way to take Sieun’s breath away. He had become an expert at pretending to be absorbed in his notes like he always was, but his gaze always found its way to you eventually.

The first person to realise was Sooho.

“You like Y/n or something?” Sooho teased, dropping into the seat in front of Sieun, making him look up from his notes which hadn’t been added to in the past 20 minutes despite the pencil in his hand.

“Is it obvious?” Sieun said in a panicked voice, eyes glancing over the mostly empty room just to make sure no one was listening.

“Given that she has the power to take your attention away from your studies, I’d say so.” Sooho pointed out, grinning.

“What do I do?” Sieun sighed, dropping his pencil, dropping his head into his hands.

Sooho leaned back in his seat, pretending to think, “Ask her out, obviously.”

Sieun’s eyes widened, “What?”

“What?” Sooho echoed.

“I… I can’t ask her out.”

“Why not?”

Sieun flushed, “...She’s too good for me.” He mumbled.

Sooho raised his eyebrow at this, “Oh, you’re more whipped than I thought.” He gave Sieun a lopsided grin, finding the younger boy adorable. “Let me guess, you’ve never had a girlfriend before?” Sieun shook his head. “Don’t worry,” Sooho nodded as he spoke, “I can help you.”

“How?”

“Private lessons.” Sooho concluded, standing up and patting Sieun’s shoulder before walking out of the classroom. Sieun stared at him as he left, feeling the anxiety rising and he tried to gulp it back down.

Sieun’s first “private lesson” took place the next day. As he worked his part time job at the restaurant, Sooho gave all the advice he had to Sieun. Most of it went right over the smaller boy’s head, but he tried his best to at least write it all down on a notepad. He would need all the help he could get in order to even approach you, so he studied diligently.

“Figure out what she likes first. If she likes strawberry smoothies, buy her a strawberry smoothie. If she likes stuffed animals, buy her one. But be nonchalant about it, like you just happened to know that it was her favourite. Girls don’t like it when boys are obsessed with them.” Sooho explained as he sorted cans of soda.

“Am I too obsessed with her?” Sieun said suddenly, halting the movements of his pen.

“No, no, don’t worry about that. She’ll love you, you’re very lovable once you open up.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“And what if she does? Stop overthinking it and write down what I say, okay?”

Sieun left that first lesson overwhelmed. He had never thought so hard about how much eye contact to make or what pick-up lines to use. He was starting to feel like maybe he couldn’t do this. You were way out of his league and didn’t even know he existed. He was stupid to even try.

When he arrived at school in the morning, his head felt as cloudy as the sky outside. It was encroaching on a darkness but still clung to the cusp of a light grey. The clouds swirled around and hid the sun, a harsh breeze shifting the leaves on the trees.

Sieun opened his backpack to get out his notebook, but his attention was immediately drawn to a small bottle of mango juice. Sooho must have stuck it in. He grabbed it and found a sticky note with unmistakably Sooho’s handwriting scrawled on it.

I heard from her friend that this is her fav— remember what I told you ;)

Sieun sighed and peeled the sticky note off of the bottle, recalling all the steps Sooho had meticulously given him the previous day. Act cool, don’t try too hard, don’t act interested at first, etc.

Sieun busied himself with studying for the next hour, waiting for when you arrived to class so he could give you the juice. You walked in with a boy beside you and Sieun’s heart sunk. His eyes flickered between you and the boy who was clearly clinging to your side. Sieun thought that maybe you looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t know for sure. He just forced himself to look down at his paper, missing the way you instinctively looked at him, a mixture of disappointment in your face.

Sooho offered Sieun a ride home after school, eager to know if he had successfully made a move on you. “Did she like the juice?” Sooho asked brightly, passing Sieun the motorcycle helmet.

The other boy was silent as he put it on, still processing his disappointed emotions. Why did it make him feel like he was about to explode seeing someone else so close to you?

With the long pause, Sooho was quick to pick up on what had happened, “Don’t tell me you didn’t give it to her?” Sieun nodded quietly, affirming Sooho’s suspicions before sitting down on the motorcycle without another word. Sooho sighed and joined him, turning on the engine with a loud rev and entering the lane on the road.

You had known Sooho since your 5th birthday. He was that one kid who no one really knew why they were invited to the party, but ended up being the star anyway. He had caked you in the face on your 7th birthday as a prank, and now it was a tradition at every birthday.

No one was really aware of how close you two were, since you didn’t spend much time talking at school. Sooho was always sleeping and you were always spending way too much time being distracted by the most beautiful eyes- studying. You were studying.

It had been months of your studying being rudely distracted by this… certain someone, and your grades were realistically suffering because of it. You needed to do something about it, and luckily for you, Sooho was friends with this boy. It was like the stars had aligned.

“Sooho!” You sat down loudly at the desk in front of the sleeping boy, earning a tired groan as the boy attempted to wake up from his slumber.

“What?” He rubbed his eye lazily, waiting for you to bring up what was so important as to interrupt his precious sleep.

“I need to confess or else my grades will crash and burn.” You said dramatically, much to the confusion of the boy in front of you.

“Who are you confessing to?” He asked groggily but a bit more alert than before, thoughts of Sieun’s failed confession running through his brain immediately. What if you liked someone completely different? Should Sooho still encourage Sieun to confess to you?

“Sieun…” You muttered weakly.

“What?” Sooho’s eyes brightened when you repeated Sieun’s name in clarification. “I have a plan.”

Sooho’s plan was the most absurd thing you had ever heard. How the heck was randomly showing up to Sieun’s apartment going to achieve anything? What did he expect you two to do? Eat dinner?

Sooho had dropped you off 30 seconds ago and sped off on his motorcycle before you could figure out exactly where you were and bombard him with questions. He didn’t give you any instructions, any pointers. All he said was that Sieun had something to drink. You were confused and a little annoyed and scared. You would probably embarrass yourself in front of Sieun and then that would be the end of it. You wouldn’t have the courage to even look at the boy ever again.

You hesitantly knocked on the door since Sooho had threatened you in case you chose to run away instead of doing anything. As the door opened, you were faced with the pair of eyes that you expected. You watched as shock flickered over them.

You could practically melt right then and there just from looking at him. You had never actually seen him in clothes other than his school uniform, and while he looked good in it, he looked infinitely better in this; a soft crew neck and sweatpants. You could only imagine how comfortable it would be to hug him or even cuddle-

Your thoughts were shut down when Sieun spoke, a little timidly, “Do you want to come in?” His voice was soft like it always was. He never really talked much. Even when answering questions in class, he spoke in as few words as possible. You couldn’t lie, you found it endearing.

You nodded and walked through the door, finding the apartment unsurprisingly clean. You took off your shoes, staying in just your socks. Sieun tried to look for a spare pair of slippers to give you, but the only pair was his dad’s which were comically too big for you.

You gave up the search and walked to the couch to sit down. You could feel this warm feeling in the air, like some simmering tension. It wasn’t uncomfortable, in fact, it gave you the slight sensation of butterflies in your stomach.

Sieun sat next to you on the couch but not too close and you were both silent. You weren’t sure what to say or where to start. You had asked Sooho for help with confessing, but it would seem too abrupt to start with that. You wanted to warm up to Sieun first, though you weren’t sure how long you could wait before the words fell out of your mouth.

“Do you want a drink?” Sieun asked and you smiled. So Sooho wasn’t lying with that part.

“What are the options?”

“Uh…” He dropped his head, thinking for a second before running to the small fridge and pulling out a bottle of mango juice, “You like this… right?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I do.”

Sieun’s lips turned up into the cutest smile you had ever seen in your entire life. You felt like you were floating on clouds from the elated feeling. You made him smile.

Once you had received a glass of mango juice, the conversation started flowing a bit easier. You talked about school and hobbies and your favourite foods. Though Sieun didn’t say much, you could tell he was always listening to what you were saying. That was a bit unusual to you. You were always used to being ignored or thought of as obnoxious when you talked, so you rarely felt comfortable saying what you wanted to. With Sieun, however, you felt like you could say anything and he would listen.

It was late in the night and Sieun was preparing a small dinner for you both. He had been overwhelmingly kind and considerate that you felt your will to not confess being slowly withered away. You were about to crack, you could feel it. As soon as he did one more thing to make your heart flutter, you would have to spill it otherwise you were sure you would explode.

Your resolve was finally broken while you were eating. You were sitting across from Sieun on the floor, food spread out as best as Sieun could make it. You had a small bit of sauce on the corner of your lip, and before you could notice yourself, Sieun had leaned across the table and wiped it off gently with his thumb.

Your cheeks flushed pink at the touch. You were lucky you didn’t have any food in your mouth otherwise you would’ve probably choked. You were stunned, staring at the boy in front of you. And then he smiled as if he was shy but happy to help. You could see his ears had turned pink at the tips, and then finally your mouth was spitting out words before your brain could catch up.

“I like you, Sieun.”

“I’m nervous I’ll do it wrong.” Sieun whispered, head dropped to look at the floor. You could see his cheeks a bright red and you were sure that your boyfriend was the cutest thing this world had ever created.

“You won’t be able to mess up cuddling, I promise.” You reassured him.

“But I’ve never done it before… What if-”

“You’ve hugged me before.” You cut him off. He nodded. He had hugged you, many many times. He wanted to hug you right now. “It’ll just be like a prolonged hug… except more relaxed.” You understood how the thought of cuddling could feel daunting for him. He had been touch-starved his entire life. “I’ll show you how it works, but… you need to come here first.” You giggled and patted the spot next to you on the bed.

Sieun’s face flushed more and he joined you carefully, scooting next to you. You grabbed his wrist and tugged him even closer to you, “It’s hard to cuddle when there's a gap between us.” You explained with a smile.

You decided it would be best to make the first move, so you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your cheek on his chest. He was even more comfortable than you could’ve imagined, and you wondered why you hadn’t done this before. He smelled clean and calming, your nerves instantly becoming soothed by being so close to him.

He had tensed up at first, not sure how to respond and hyper aware of how fast his heart was beating. You were so pretty and the fact that you were hugging him so closely? Sieun would probably never recover. He figured that wrapping his arm around your shoulder would be natural, and he soon discovered that the position was 10 times more comfortable that way as you snuggled even closer to him.

“Your heart is beating so fast… Nervous?” You mumbled, peering up at him with a small teasing smile.

“Yeah…”

“Me too.” You whispered, a smile growing as you could feel both your hearts beating at the same fast rate.

Sieun was an excellent cuddler, he just didn’t realise it. He naturally started rubbing your arm in a soothing way until his hand travelled up to your hair and started playing with it. You were sure you would become addicted to cuddling him after this. Maybe you would ask him to cuddle with you everyday…

“Can I kiss you?” You asked suddenly. Sieun’s hand stopped playing with your hair.

“I… I’ve never-”

“I know. Me neither.” You said shyly, “It just… seemed like the right moment, but if you don’t-”

“I do. I really really do.” He said firmly and smiled a little. Your heart was already melted from the cuddles, but it was as good as evaporated at the sight of his smile.

“Okay.” You cupped his cheek cautiously before leaning in, not quite touching his lips, waiting for him to lean in as well. He pressed his lips to yours softly, timidly moving them in case you were uncomfortable or he was doing it wrong.

Sieun was an excellent kisser as well.

↳ k-drama taglist: @yeonjuns-redhair

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beesmygod · 2 months

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What are some of your favorite pieces of art/ art that has made you think a lot?

this is such a cheesy cop-out answer, but there's a lot of things that im going to struggle remembering because of 1. how situational the experience was (as in, the context in which i experienced the piece) 2. how wide the word "art piece" is. 3. the great fortune to have been born to parents with strong artistic sensibilities and a love of travel/education. so these are like. really weird and specific but maybe thats the way it should be:

let's start with the most overly dramatic: st. paul's cathedral in london has guided tours where they take you into rooms and let you mill around before moving to the next one. my family took a trip overseas as a really, really big special vacation to celebrate my sister and i graduating from high school (we're not twins, we just combo'd it after she graduated) that i was too brain-broken and teenage to fully appreciate. its a beautiful cathedral but i was in my edgy internet atheist stage and refused to be impressed by it until i stood over a grate in the floor. through the grates you can see the crypt that you visit next. but standing over the grate, someone below started to sing something hymnal and very catholic. and i realized i was the only one who could hear it because of the crowd chatter. and it made me feel, in the moment, so special and so lonely in a way that i still think about, a lot. it was for me only. divine providence.

a date with adam to a place i had no idea existed but he had been to before: the bad art museum, which is split over like 3 different buildings in a bizarre way. we only went to the one where you have to buy a ticket to a movie as entry and it was some truly lovely bad art and made me sad how inaccessible it was but resolute about my love of the nuances of uncelebrated anti-art masterpieces. then we watched "assassination nation" and it was fucking terrible. great date.

reading the theory regarding the "venus of willendorf" being a self portrait as a 20-something year old and running into the bathroom to take my clothes off and look down at myself and having my mind blown. not just by how much i instantly understood it, but because of the tugging feeling on my heart when i feel that strand of history connecting women artists driven by that unknown compulsion to create for creations sake!

similarly, seeing artemisia gentileschi's work next to her fathers and realizing how much she outclassed him in every single way and feeling the tugging feeling again, but this time with a dark woe of realization of how history minimizes achievement and talent when it eases a narrative

reading jane erye's descriptions of herself and her approaches to her plights and for the first time feeling like someone had walked a path that i currently found myself lost on.

reading 1984 as a middle schooler and becoming so angry at the ending i threw the book across the room (something i had never done before and never did again in my life) and stormed out of my room to complain to my mom lol. IT REALLY UPSET ME!!!

reading les miserables for the first time and weeping piteously for days after the ending and having it impact my brain so hard it re-wired how i think about the concept of "legacy" and what it means to matter in the world and how love is nothing without the courage to stand up for it. and that mercy should, and will, always supersede unwavering justice (hard lesson to remember, maybe im due for a re-read)

sneaking into my parents room to read the books i wasnt supposed to yet as a really little kid lol. my mom used to get "dykes to watch out for" in a newsletter she was subscribed to! but i didnt read those bc they were dumb relationship comics for grown-ups. i wanted to read about opus the penguin and lee iacocca, as if i knew who that was. my mother's comic collection was the single most influential constant in my life. knowing that i was exposed to bill watterson's commentary about his own work via the big collections my mom owned probably explains a lot about what's wrong with me. but she also had a lot of berke breathed before he fully wussed out

the general experience of playing a video game that you arent supposed to/when you arent supposed to is probably one of the most freeing means of meaningless rebellion as a kid that everyone should experience. i used to be up playing pokemon past my bedtime under my covers with a huge heavy rubber flashlight i stole from the kitchen and had to replace every morning without getting caught once i was done with it. god, the days before backlit screens we had to get really fucking wild with it. in high school i would wake up at 5:00am, sneak into the computer room where the ps2 was and play an hour of FFX bc its the longest fucking non-persona game in the world, stop playing before my mom woke up at 6:00am and sneak back into bed. if i hit a part where i couldnt save i would just turn the screen off and come back to it tomorrow lol. secrets......

reading the "pictures for sad children" arc about paul, who is a ghost, finally losing it and going on a rant about how it has never mattered how thin a computer screen is. they were right and reading it helped me articulate and understand a growing feeling of restless frustration at the world around me that i felt singular and alone in. im glad that last i heard that artist is doing ok. i hope they recognize the incredible value in their work as imperfect as they perceived it to be. i do not think they would be happy to know that their old work was impactful, but i hope they realize that what people are able to tease out of their work is meaningful, at least to me it is. ill transcribe the comic rather than repost it i think: paul [while smashing electronics]: "have i told you about [bam] how nerds destroy the world take conspicuous consumption as a lifestyle choice and combine it with early hardware adoption and you have great swaths of gadgetry out of stock because they're incrementally better than the last model and there are landfills full of functioning electronics wasted time, resources, money, etc. the best part is that these things were never necessary it has never mattered how thing a computer is." [smash]

this is too long. i like art.

#art #long post

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hockeyandhrsepwr · 9 months

Text

Life Lessons: The Intro

Fresh of a world tour, y/n l/n announces her next album.....

Life Lessons Masterlist

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liked by fan28, user0929 and others

yourusername Life Lessons. Coming soon.

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fan1 askkskakskwek

fan39 new music?! ahhhhh

fan37 babe the cover pic?! who hurt you

usert882 When??

yourusername soon:)

Notes

Notes pop star y/n l/n announces new album: Life Lessons. To learn more about the album, check out our conversation with the young talent at this link

What’s next for y/n?

By Michelle F.

July 20, 2023

On the eve of y/n l/ns final date for her sold out world tour, I receive a phone call. It’s an invitation to the show in Paris La Defense Arena, and the opportunity to speak to y/n about what’s coming next for the pop sensation. A no brainer really. I’ve been following y/ns journey pretty much since she came onto the scene and to hear that she personally requested me to speak to? That was a shock but an absolute honour. So I hop on the Eurostar and make my way to the City of Love, Lights and Dreams.

A mere three hours later I’m waiting in the wings as Y/n takes the stage to a deafening crowd. The Monaco native cracks a joke in french, later translated as a slight dig at the French but all in good fun. The performance is electric as y/n performs tracks from her first three albums, all of which took the world by storm and dominated charts. One of my favourite shows that I’ve been to in a while. Keep reading to hear more about our conversation after the show.

Michelle: Hi y/n! That was an incredible show!

Y/n: Oh thank you Michelle, youre too kind.

M: How does it feel, being onstage and performing for that large of a crowd? Tonight’s was pretty big but not the largest of your tour, correct?

Y: I think we had a few bigger, but it’s hard to explain. This is something I’ve dreamed of for my entire life so even though its nerve wracking, I know that I’m where I want to be. This tour has been pretty eye opening! Tonight was special though! I’ve been to many a concert in those stadium with my friends, since it was the closest major arena to Monaco so we could just hop on a train and see our favourite artists and make a girl trip out of it.

M: That sounds so fun! This was your first tour headlining, what did you find was the biggest difference between that and opening? You opened for Ed Sheeran on his tour after the release of your second album and now for your third youre headlining.

Y: besides people being here mostly to see me, not someone else, longer sets is the biggest difference. But i’m working with lots of the same crew that worked on the tour with Ed so it’s been pretty epic!

M: So the big question, what’s next?

Y: well….I might have something coming soon.

M: oh, do tell! A new album?

Y: I guess I can tell you :) My next album, Life Lessons, will be releasing pretty soon.

M: tell me everything? When are we looking at release? What’s it all about? Track names?

Y: haha, no definite date yet, but it will be soon (she winks). As for what it’s about, life. It’s been about three years in the making, so the lessons that I’ve learned over the past three years. Track names you’ll find out along with everyone else haha

M: I guess I can accept that. Three years? How so?

Y: well, its a series of songs that I’ve written over the past 3 years at varying points and finally decided, you know what, lets release them and see what people think.

M: will it be similar to your previous albums, stylistically, or will we see something more than the indie pop sound we’ve come to know from you?

Y: Everything really. my usual (she air quotes) sound, but some songs with slightly different vibes. There may even be a few country inspired.

M: Country’s a new genre for you. Are you a big fan normally?

Y: oh absolutely. Its nowhere near as popular here in Europe, but my granddad is from Georgia so I grew up with it in the house. When I was putting all the lyrics to music, a few of them I wanted to have a country feel, so I reached out to few friends and got opinions and everyone loved it. I decided that I dont mind if my fans dont love those songs, this album is for me. I hope they do, of course, but it is a different genre than my normal so I’d understand if they dont vibe with them as much as my other songs.

M: Speaking of friends, any co-writers or collaborators on this album? You recently had a track with your ex boyfriend Noah Kahan on his album. Is he returning the favour?

Y: ha, nope. This one is all me. My producer and best friend, Bella, and my tour band helped with laying down the tracks, but lyrics are all me.

M: well I’m excited. And sorry to bring it up, but your realtionship with Noah, did that provide any inspiration for the album?

Y: yes, but probably not in the way people will be expecting. Noahs great though. We were great friends before our fling started and we’ve stayed good friends after. We all have those moments right, where we think that trying to be more is a good idea. He’s an incredible guy though.

M: So does the album follow any kind of order?

Y: Somewhat chronological over the period but nothing concrete.

M: well y/n I hope our readers feel the same but I can’t wait!! I’ll be impatiently waiting for the release. Thank you again for taking to time to talk to me today. Enjoy the little break you’ll have!!

Y: thanks Michelle, I’m sure well talk soon!

Get excited readers, this album is going to be special.

#charles leclerc x reader #forumla 1 #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #f1 instagram au #jj writes shit #life lessons:the album #ferrari #formula 1 imagine #instagram au #charles leclerc fic #f1 blurb #f1 series #Charles Leclerc x famous reader #exes to lovers #maybe;)

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kendrene · 1 year

Note

Hi Dren!! I hope you're doing well :)

For the prompt ask, 20. “It’s late, you should get some sleep.”

When Beatrice wakes up, the battered digital alarm clock Ava bought them second-hand reports it’s 3am. The nest of blankets next to her is warm, but empty.

Her most recent dream has left a bad taste in her mouth. Her heart in the back of her throat. Adriel swooping in to take Ava away. Beatrice finding her, too late. The Halo — gone. And Ava — dead.

That’s what has her reaching for the knife she keeps sheatherd under her pillow. What causes her to slide from underneath the covers without making a sound. If Beatrice was being logical about it, she’d admit to being overly cautious. After all, Ava may have gotten up to use the bathroom. But there’s no logic to the fear raking cold claws down her spine, and the dream — the plausibility of it — is still too vivid in her mind.

She can’t discount it.

So, she stalks through the small apartment, takes advantage of all shadows. Shannon taught her how, during her first weeks at Cat’s Cradle. One of the basic lessons, delivered in the dead of night to a class of sleepy girls ripped out of their beds. Beatrice could never forget it. Stood to attention in the moonlit nave of the cathedral, toes curled inward, the soles of her bare feet numbed by the coldness of the marble as Shannon’s voice, a gentle whisper, floated to them from the dark.

She’d explained how to walk in complete silence, talked about the soft trigonometry of shadows. Said that every surface — no matter rain, or shine or starlight — reflects a measurable quantity of light. What materials are used to bend and to absorb it, which pattern and style of clothing is best suited to a mission after dusk.

The theory of it hadn’t seemed hard. The practice — to cross the whole length of the cathedral undetected while senior sisters watched her from above like hawks — was nowhere close to easy.

At the kitchen’s threshold, finally, a sound.

Beatrice folds her body low, crouches in the rectangle of night projected by the dresser. Extends her hand past its wooden corner, blade tilted just so. Mirrored on the edge of sharp damascus steel, the kitchen looks far away and kind of distorted, but the image is clear enough. The window has been thrown wide open to let sweet summer in, and Ava occupies a chair in front of it, her back to the door.

“Ava, what are you doing? It’s late.” Setting the knife on top of the dresser, Beatrice stands. She deliberately steps on the one floorboard that creaks, hoping Ava won’t startle. “You should get some sleep.”

°I tried.” Ava doesn’t turn. “Couldn’t fall asleep and I didn’t want to bother you. Guess I failed, uh?”

“You didn’t. I just woke up and I—” I thought I lost you. I thought he’d found us. I was afraid you were gone. Beatrice breathes in. Pushes the words down. “I needed the toilet.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you, uh, are you coming back to bed?”

A breeze works its way into the kitchen, scattering the maps of the area Beatrice had been studying before sleep. While not exactly cold, the wind carries a hint of a bite on its back. It makes her shiver.

“Not yet.” Ava nods to the square of night framed by the window. “I’ve never seen a sky like this, you know? Had no idea there were so many stars.”

The note of wonder in her voice draws Beatrice closer. She thinks, for no more than a moment, to the bed, now surely chillier than she’d left it. She could go back to it, she’s tired enough to and morning isn’t far, but the truth is she’s too used to Ava’s body next to hers, to the even breathing in her ear to fall asleep alone. Too fond of Ava’s arms, and the way they sometimes tighten around Bea’s waist in her sleep, like Ava, too, might be afraid of losing her.

Dragging an empty chair next to Ava’s, she sits down, not quite in Ava’s space, their shoulders almost touching.

Outside the moon is low, so close to the shadowy outlines of the surrounding rooftops Beatrice swears she could simply reach up and touch it. At the end of its waning phase, it is barely a silver thread stitched into the velvet of the night, and the stars shine brighter from its absence.

Stars. Hundreds, thousands of them. Beatrice hasn’t seen this many in years. Despite Cat’s Cradle vantage point on the hills of Antequera, light pollution from the city muddles the sky a hazy orange, making it much too bright. Only on particularly clear nights does the full spread of the stars appear, and it’s never quite like this. Not this vibrant, or this endless, the void between each pinprick of pulsing light so dark, dark, dark.

“Do you think that’s where we go when we die?” Ava asks, hushed, causing Beatrice’s shoulders to jump. “I saw it on TV somewhere that the light of the stars is millions of years old by the time it reaches us. Some of the stars we are seeing tonight don’t actually exist anymore. But… what if it were souls, instead? Wouldn’t that be better? Maybe my mom —” Ava’s voice breaks over the word, and Beatrice dares not make a sound. Ava rarely talks about her mother. “I mean, maybe it’s people watching over us, and if souls eventually die, too, then it doesn’t matter, does it? Because they leave their light behind for us.”

Ava’s words, the idea of her dying start an ache somewhere deep in Beatrice’s chest. A pain that grows and grows, until her heart feels too heavy to keep beating against the weight of the sorrow that’s threatening to crush it, until all Beatrice can do is to hold back tears.

Her mind lingers on the brevity of life, on how that life may look sans Ava. An empty house, an emptier bed, nothingness for sky no matter the number of stars dotting it each night.

“Ava…” Ava’s gaze is still upturned, enraptured by the spectacle outside. Beatrice is glad for the respite. At least, the tears tracking down her cheeks will have a chance to dry.

“I know,” Ava rocks the chair back with a laugh that sounds a little wet. “Pretty heretical, right? I’m sure that’s what Mother Superion would say, anyway.”

“I think it’s beautiful, what you said, actually.”

“You do?” Ava half-turns, and in the uncertain glow of starlight she is beautiful, too.

“Yeah. Um.” Beatrice clears her throat; the lump constricting it gradually softens. “People have imbued the stars with meaning since, well, since the beginning of mankind, I guess. It’s a comfort.”

“It would comfort me to leave a light on for you, after I’m gone.” The chair falls back in place with a thump. Ava pitches sideways, not shoulder to shoulder with Beatrice anymore, but nearly spilling in her lap. Beatrice’s arms automatically tighten around her.

“You shouldn’t talk like that. You’re not going to die, Ava.”

“Don’t make promises you know you can’t keep, Sister.” Ava pokes at her arm lightly, as if she knows Beatrice had been about to promise that, exactly. “You’re a nun. Nuns shouldn’t lie.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Beatrice admits aloud for the first time. It shocks her how easy the words come out, but perhaps it’s the fault of the dark and the quiet and an infinite sky full of stars. Nighttime makes everything more intimate, more sacred; this is the hour in which secrets that wouldn’t survive the harsh scrutiny of day can be set loose.

Beatrice almost slips Almost gives tangible form to the three words that have been brewing under her tongue. Seriously considers what might happen if she did. Would it be so bad for Ava to go into this war, knowing that she’s loved? Would it make things better? Worse?

She bites the inside of her cheek and tastes blood.

“I don’t want you to die, Ava.” She says instead. A wish, a hope, a plea to any god that might be listening and not only to her own. “And that’s the truth. Nun’s honor.”

“Good.” Ava snuggles in, face slanting into the crook of Beatrice’s neck. Her nose is icy cold. “Because as much as I don’t mind shining down to you from the sky one day, I like it better here.”

Beatrice rests her chin on the crown of Ava’s head, buries her nose in her hair. She can smell a faint trace of the cheap shampoo they share, and summer, the heat. The stars above them pale, then wink out one by one. Beatrice is glad to see the last one gone.

She likes Ava on this Earth, sleeping soundly in her arms better, too.

#warrior nun #avatrice #dren writes #here you go maddie

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sculptorofcrimson · 9 days

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Snowfields

Synopsis: A cold walk atop the mountain with Valdor.

Relations: Valdor x female Emperor shard

Warnings: Suicide attempt

This is relatively tame for what I write, and I wrote it in one sitting when I had roughly 20 minutes to spare. Ty for your time!

“Do you remember Ararat, my liege?”

No. No, she didn’t remember Ararat. She has never heard the name before. But she will. By the gods, she will.

The air was cold. It rattled through her lungs when she tried to breathe. The white seemed to stretch forever, like malignant bones, the wind laid bare and rattling its screams. It would rise like a frosty howl around the two of them, wailing like a soldier who had lost a limb, weeping its cries for eternity. The cold bit at her, tore at her, the snow would have frozen mortal blood solid in mortal veins. Thunder grumbles in the distance. A crack of lightning splits the sky in half, purplish white against the ghoulish grey.

His cloak was warm when he wrapped it around her. But his touch, without doubt, without even question, was unfathomably cold. Without even thinking of it, she had shrunk away.

Valdor’s grip had only tightened then. He fastened the clasp of the too-large cloak, the stench of incense and parchment wafting from the silk. A small smile, the emotionless movement perfected by a mind that could not actually smile, flashed briefly across his visage as he took her wrist, trapped it so effortlessly between his fingers and kissed the soft skin there.

“There was a Primarch once. A magnificent man. One that even I respected, in some regards.” Valdor led her, slowly and patiently, holding her up when she stumbled through the knee-high snow. The mountaintop seemed to rage against her. Well, too damn bad. She hated mountains, and she hated snow, and she was about to teach him a lesson out of spite. It was pure pettiness, but it was hers, it was one last plan she held to herself, one last wish she was certain was hers and not his, and if she was going to die, drowned limb by limb into the unseeing gold, she wished to at least pain him with it.

How had it gone so wrong? How had angels of such glorious aurite turned into nightmares wrapped in gold and crimson?

She yanked her arm away. Valdor let her go without struggle, simply rising back with a singular, elegant motion, as if he were a dancer performing a long-awaited waltz. When she stumbles over another snow-covered rock mere moments later, he was there, as if he had never left, one arm gently wrapped around her waist as he hauls her upright. This time, when she tries to pull away, his grip only tightens, as if he was defying the very storm itself.

“The snow reminds me of him. The Cataegis Primarch of the IVth legion. You watched us duel atop a mountain not so unlike this one, my liege, when the storm ended. It felt like the top of the world. We were in a deadlock when you appeared, your attention straying just for a moment to our fight. I snapped his wrist with a twisting motion, and slammed him into the ground hard enough to snap part of his spine. Your attention had departed by then, but it was enough. You still remember the frost, do you not?”

No. No. She didn’t. She couldn’t. Valdor’s hand, so gentle, so damnably gentle, placed itself under her chin. It stroked her hair, his gauntlets’ touch heavy yet tender, the jewels flashing dully through strands of hair that were quickly becoming darker, swallowed first by brown and then by black. He had not forbidden her to cut it. Out of spite, she had ordered him to cut it for her.

It didn’t matter.

The strands had grown back, with an unrelenting zeal, glossy and luxurious and flowing like ink over water. She was innocent once, she was mortal, she lived among men and walked amongst mortals, and she will never be again. She will never live again, and that truth was simply so jagged, so broken, so horrifyingly caught between her chest and her throat that it was as if something broke a little further every time she took a breath. Valdor had only quietly polished, brushed and glossed over her hair, his movements methodical and calculated, even when silent tears rolled their way down her cheeks, her vision blurred by the salt and the water but just visible enough to see the flakes of gold swirling in her pupils. Still clear enough to see herself die.

She had felt Valdor’s fingers through her hair then, braiding it carefully in an intricate style she had never seen before, but one that tugged at familiar roots she had never felt before.

Her hair. Some mewling, broken part of her(was it her dream or His? Was there a difference anymore?) instinctively felt like it should be darker. Longer. Wreathed with gold, and weighed down by a crown. But it was her hair. It was her hair, once upon a time, and she had lost it strand by strand, inch by inch, as the gold swam up through her vision and blocked out her eyes.

A rock clattered over the side of the mountain, followed by dull, distant thunder. It jolted her back to her mind, to her body, to the world that she did not rule over and should have never ruled.

Numbly, she felt herself shake her head. Valdor only raised an eyebrow, and adjusted the clasp.

“I remember the rock, my master.” Valdor was saying. His voice rose and fell like a litany, carefully retracing steps the Emperor had once guided him through, when He was a king and gods walked the earth. She felt so small against him, so tired, so far from the invincible god-warrior he had once served, but that was alright, He had returned to him, and he would shepherd Him, guide Him, protect Him, through this life and through this death till the last. “Even the rocks felt cold. It was black, and it glistened like oil whenever the sun shone. There were storms every day of that campaign, as if the heavens themselves were against us, as if the gods had conspired to strike you down, but yet you gave us the order to march. And the wind. You told me that you heard it screaming. Malcador jokingly asked that if you should live again, you would choose to enact Ararat during the summer instead, if only out of sheer annoyance from the wind.” Valdor’s smile was nothing more than a reflex. There was no humor in it, nor human emotion. “Do you remember it then, my master?”

The wind. Had it screamed then, as it screams now? Had it screamed, beneath the weight of the betrayal, wailing with the sheer horror of what it had taken? Did it scream, singing a threnody with the thunder, as the skies growl and hail shudders from overcast clouds ahead? She shivers underneath her layers. The finest climate suits had been prepared, coupled with the Custodian cloak over her shoulders, but she felt cold, so unspeakably cold that it was nearly painful.

Oh Throne. She was cold, so cold.

“Constantin?” she rasps. Her voice was not her own. It was rusty from disuse, and cracked, and weak, but yet some part of it resonated, it echoed like the tongue of a god, speaking through the plaintive shell of a mortal, just enough to hiss like a shadowy undertone. It should have been more sonorous, it should have been softer, it should have been the voice of a conqueror, it should have been the voice of a girl snatched away from her home by an angel and transformed into a god. It should have been hers, but it was His instead. She licks her lips and tries again. “Constantin.”

“Yes, my lord?” he was at her side(was he always so close?), the memory jarringly left unfinished. The hand once gently guiding her and became more insistent as he knelt down until they were eye to eye.

“I don’t remember the mountain.” she replied flatly. Her voice was weaker than a whisper. She didn’t care. She knew he’d hear it anyway. And if he didn’t, she no longer cared enough to ensure he did. She no longer believed she had the strength to stomach that voice any longer.

The cliff looked dizzyingly as she peered over the edge. She wondered if even a Custodian could survive a fall at such a height.

“I don’t remember the snow, Constantin.”

“That is alright, my liege.” He was so sweet, so sickeningly sweet, so unerringly gentle. It made her want to claw at him, to crack him, to see what could finally burrow under that invincible flesh and make him howl. It made her wonder how the Emperor broke him to make him the man he had become, how deeply He must have laid His tongs in the forge of flesh and fire.

She wondered what his screams would sound like, if he could scream at all.

“Do not trouble yourself, my liege. Your form is still young.” Of course, he could afford to wait. He had waited for ten thousand years, and he would gladly wait for ten thousand more. In that broken, delusional mind of his, it was only just, after all. He’d speak litanies of loyalty, roaring them over the screams of her brethren, he’d speak praises so numerous that they’d drown out the sobs of her family. “Your memories will return, when given due time. I can tell you about them. The preliminaries, the campaigns, the plans you undertook.”

Of course. They’d have to return. They must return. They will return, and He will live again, born out of this mortal shell under Valdor’s guidance. Valdor simply could not be, must not be, could not accept, could not live in a world where his liege has fallen forever.

The snow was no longer biting her. It seemed to have been cowed, laid low beneath the vengeful eye of its rightful master. Even the storm seems to have settled, briefly, at least for now. For the eye of the King, the Emperor, the god-sorceror.

It was so cruel, the revelation, the realization that welled up in her when she gazed dully back at him with listless eyes. The revelation that came for her, and not for him, for he would be nothing if not for his delusion. How quickly she understood the truth beneath why she had called him here, why she had suddenly finally accepted his offer to visit the mountain, when she had been delaying it, dreading it, putting it off for weeks upon months.

The edge.

The end. (And not the death).

She wondered if even a Custodes could survive a fall from this height. She wondered if it mattered anymore.

The plan had been formulating itself for weeks now, brewing like boiled flesh in a cyst, nursing itself, grieving its wounds, growing stronger, gaining weight. First she had refused to eat, then to bathe, then to move at all, all the dreary, listless days crushed into the same monotony as brass as she had sat still upon a throne she did not want and stared off into oblivion, as he occasionally knelt by her and asked for her commands while she numbly stared off in the distance, her eyes a thousand yards away. Her gaze had been lost in a time beyond time, beyond memory itself, and not even dreams could steal her away.

First it had only been how she stopped even trying to hide from him. She simply let him follow her, on her aimless, little walks aboard the massive ship that had become her only location. Then it had been how her tongue had stalled and she no longer even greeted the serfs that occasionally came by to deliver her food she did not eat, water she did not want, utensils she did not use, how she simply stared ahead, as reactive as a corpse, about as conscious to the world as the dead. Valdor had cared after her then, when even her memory had failed her, when she lay still and sullen like ash, the weight of the world upon broken shoulders, silent, painful tears trickling a cheerless trail from her eyes to her duvet. How he had lifted her up and cradled her to him, asking which stories she wished to hear, which glories she wished him to recount. Which memories that were not hers but soon will be, tales he regaled her of His conquests, of His victories and His lessons, His mantras drilled into her bones as they have been drilled into his.

She had left the world, bit by bit, husk by husk, until she felt as if she weighed no more than one of His eagles’ feathers did, frailly clinging onto the world with a whisper and a dream. It was as if she was sinking into some calm, clear, colorless water and feeling the waves close in above her, but there was no sensation of drowning, no voiceless cry in the deep. Simply the noiseless struggle in her own dreams, as she prepared herself for the final breath before oblivion.

(Did she have the strength? Did it matter any longer, when he could overpower her no matter the answer?)

It was so beautiful, up here, at the edge of the sky. She could hear the storm breathing in the clouds. It was close enough that she could close her eyes, and dream of Ararat, listening to Valdor’s words. An end. An end, just like the Thunder Warriors He(and she?) slaughtered so long ago. The final unraveling. She didn’t want to die, but was she truly living? An immortality without life, without passion, without even joy itself, was that truly living when she was little more than a corpse, kept alive through obsession?

If the Emperor had loved them, He would have never created them at all. What merciful god would create such grotesque angels?

If the Four were merciful, they would have sought Valdor, as they sought the Primarchs. They would have whisked him away, upon winds of change, tainted him with their mark, made sure He would never accept him as a servant again. They would have saved him, corrupted him, broken him, taught him what it felt like to dream, before the golden light shone again, and His dream took over his.

But he was a servant, not a master. He was not a leader. He knelt, instead of ruling, and the Emperor had sunk in His claws so deep even the Four could not pry it out. And so he was His, forevermore.

He died ten thousand years ago. And somewhere, inside that twisted, broken Palace that was a mind, His dog was still waiting loyally at the door, waiting for Him to return.

He was kneeling beside her now. She had never even heard him move. With infinite reverence, he cups her features, admiring the black strands falling over his gauntlets, the golden eyes - so broken, so gorgeous, so His - staring back at him.

“It was the end of the Unification Wars, my liege. And the start of your rule. The Imperium was born that day, your coronation happened atop that bloodstained snowfield, when Malcador held up that laurel, and crowned you King. How could you forget how I, the first of your Custodes, knelt first and rose last, when the ceremony ended?”

So careful. So gentle as not to hurt her.

“Tell me about them.” a small, cruel smile had found its way onto her face. She was no longer looking at him, instead smiling serenely, blankly staring out upon the sky. The mountain truly was beautiful. It was such a shame this was where she would die. She should have felt something then. A sense of guilt, perhaps. A moment of horror for what she had become, for taking advantage of something so deeply broken into him that it was written into his very bones. Obedience was carved into his blood, seared into his marrow. He would know no other way but to obey.

“The Unification Wars?” Valdor asks, the question poised so effortlessly, head tilted like a loyal dog, perfectly prepared to obey his master’s every word.

It would be almost easier, she thought, if he had been a crueller man. Easier to break him, easier to hate him, easier to gaze upon that perfect, immaculate features and wonder what if he had lost those duels. If he had been taught to be mortal, what his screams would’ve sounded like, what sounds of pain he might wheeze out when his perfect, immaculate dancer’s grace falters and he learns, he learns the price for immortality.

He was never meant to love.

Not for the first time, she wonders if he can feel pain. If she’ll even care, if it’ll even matter. For a creature who loved no one but his master, would it even be a sin?A sin, to teach him what it meant to fear? To taste the copper tang of terror, to twist the knife in him as he had twisted the knife in her. And to die, exalted, knowing she would have hurt him, knowing she brought down a demigod.

You can’t reason with a mad dog. You can’t plead with someone who knows they’re right. You can’t gaze into the eyes of Constantin Valdor and expect to see reason back, when his master was right in front of him and alive, so sickeningly alive he would rather kill than forget Him again.

Would he even mourn this time? Did he even know what mourning felt like? She had an inkling that he did, however twisted it may be. Because, for him, the tale isn't over yet, the tale must not be over. His Emperor is not dead, it cannot be, he cannot be, in a world without the Emperor, it simply is not possible. Without Valdor, the Emperor could not lead His Custodes, but without Him, the Custodes could not live.

“No.” she replies. “The mountain. Tell me of them.” The smile that stretched across her face felt nothing like her. It did not belong to this life. It was too old, too heavy, too sad and too cruel for a face that was once joyous and wide with mischief. She had an inkling of the words Valdor was about to say, the bitter, treacherous words she would weep to hear, and regret ever having forced him to speak.

“The Thunder Warriors.” she murmured. She had closed her eyes again by then. The plan was formulating, inking itself together with the same mindlessness of crawling, squirming things beneath the earth. And she didn’t want to see what the ground would look like when she fell. She didn’t want to see what it felt like to die a second time. This was only a distraction, a charade, a pitiful illusion built by a mind almost broken. There was no one here but a madman, a broken girl, and the ghosts of the storm calling out its mournful rage overhead.

“Tell me what became of them. Of that Primarch you spoke so highly of. And no lies.” she sighs, and the voice that whistles out of her is too old, too broken. She brushes his hand away. This time, he doesn’t even insist on remaining. “Tell me what happened on Ararat. I want to hear the truth from your lips.”

If there had been anything left of her heart, she might have mourned for him. For what he had become, living not for himself but for another. Living His life for Him. And when He died, what could become of him? What could become of him except to endure? When he had slaughtered brothers, lovers, children upon the snowfields, betrayed loyalists and watched life fade from their eyes, all in the name of Him, what could be left of him if not to serve?

He served, and loyalty was its own reward. Loyalty, unyielding, unbreaking, even in death his duty would not end.

Valdor tilts his head like a confused dog. “What good will it do now?”

She utters a dry, raspy laugh. It had no inflection within it, no actual human emotion.

“I command you, Valdor.” she spoke. There was nothing behind it, nothing even when the command hurt him. It stirred nothing but a deep, dull ache and the brief knife of guilt, which was quickly surpassed by the lasting numbness that did not seem to leave her bones. “I command you to speak of them. On Ararat. What happened on Ararat?”

She turns from him, walking slowly, and without care. She needed to be on a ledge. Distantly, thunder shrieks, and the storm crashes down. Lightning briefly illuminates her features, skin half-tanned, black hair flowing and golden eyes peering through the brume, and in that radiant flare of lightning she looked positively divine, a half-god caught on earth, if not for the weary, haunted gaze of a hunted animal. Her shoulders were hunched, her movements withered, as if her bones could no longer support her weight. She walked without a singular care in the world, and Valdor trailed immediately afterwards. She knew to jump was no longer an option. Even the stormclouds seemed to mock her. It was foolish, so foolish, she knew. He could not let her die. He would move faster than she could even think, he could catch her, snatch her around her waist and carry her to a safe distance before she could even advance an inch towards the edge.

She could not die here. He would not allow her to die.

And they both knew that.

Voicelessly, soundlessly, she gazes up upon the stormladen sky. Its grey dances across her golden irises, the stormwind playing with her hair. Thunder crashes, and she feels herself scream back, wordlessly, soundlessly, without even conscious thought. Dully, she knew she was raging, screaming, that her mind was seizing at the clouds and tearing at them, begging them to save her, but physically she made not even a single move. Her body was frozen, the snow pelting her shoulders, Valdor’s cloak swirling from the wind. She felt frozen, too. Her mind was no longer wreathed with such self-pity it once had, it was churning, clawing, raging like a caught rabbit in a trap, desperately wishing the ground would open up and swallow it whole, not as a kind of freedom, but as a final form of spite to the hunter.

Thunder crashes around the two of them. Neither of them move. The edge was close, so dizzyingly close that she could feel the wind gusting around her. Valdor was watching her closely, the same way a starved wolf may watch a weakened deer.

When Valdor finally speaks, unable to resist the bluntness of her command, his eyes were still distantly focused on the memories of Ararat. And his voice was passionlessly dull, carefully kept neutral and utterly without pity.

“I slit his throat.” he confesses dully, flatly, without even a hint of inflection. “The Primarch. I slit his throat on Ararat, from ear to ear, then from ear to clavicle. I only stopped when I felt bone scraping against the edge of my knife.”

Surprisingly she laughed, and the sound was garbled, as grim and as dry as bones. “I suppose you killed him then?” she asked. One more step. One more step and she would be at the edge. He would not let her. He would move faster than the earth could drag her down anyways. But it did not matter. Slowly, incredulously, she could feel herself smiling. It was going to be alright. She could feel it in her bones, the static, the storm. Even the snow seemed to be on her side. For a moment, she felt like a god, standing at the top of the world, the conquered earth groveling beneath Him, knowing that even the elements would fall beneath His gaze.

She could taste the ichor then, sweet and lifeless and pouring from the sky along with the snow, the charge in the sky and the thunder. The vengeance it held. The sheer rage, an echo of her own. She would rule them. She did not want to rule. She would rule, for one singular moment in her wretched life, she would rule, and she would hurt him, as he had hurt her. For the serfs he terrorized, for the Sisters he slaughtered, for the martyrs he first betrayed and then hung out to die. All in her name. All for her wishes. She no longer wished to wish. She no longer wished to reign.

Let her abdicate the throne of skulls. Just once. Just once, she prayed.

“No.” Valdor shook his head. He was already moving, one hand reaching out to grasp her arm and drag her back before she could approach the edge. “It would have been a kinder fate if he had died then. It would have been a kinder fate if-”

“-if you had granted him an honorable death.” she finished for him. She spoke softly, plaintively, as if this was a comfort. She had turned her face a little, just enough to see him, just enough to see his elegant features illuminated by the storm. To gaze upon him, one last time. The way he held himself, like a dancer, his lean features accentuated by the lightning as the thunderbolt carved the sky open and struck the ledge beside her. The way his auramite had shuddered from the lightning as he had, for the first time in her memory, stumbled, his gait not utterly perfect before the divine rage. The first word she had heard him say that was not perfectly calculated.

The lightning snaps the ledge like bone.

The surprised intake of breath she had uttered, a squeal that was nearly a gasp as the rock beneath her feet had caved in, and then crumbled as she had desperately hoped, the weathered stone no longer capable of supporting its own weight bending and breaking and shattering as the lightning arced through it, the smite separating the ledge like the same way Valdor had carved through that serf. That poor, poor serf who had slipped her a kiss upon her request. It was little more than a peck, that poor thing. And he hadn’t even been able to scream when Valdor separated his bones like paper.

In a silent vow to him, in a wordless vow to them all, the corpses he laid so she could climb atop her throne, she promised she wouldn’t scream as she fell.

Grimly, lips drawn in a tight line, she only felt the distant thunder as she descended like a one-winged eagle, her face utterly expressionless, lightning briefly dancing sparks against her hair as if in reverence.

Valdor’s cloak, still wrapped around her, its silk as crimson as spilled blood, unfurled around her as she fell.

Distantly, from somewhere beyond the mountaintop, thunder roared.

~~~~

It was warm, when she finally awoke. She muttered something, tried to turn, and decided to burrow deeper against the warmth instead. There was a rumble, a purr-like sound, and the slow, drifting scent of incense as one titanic hand came up to rest against her hair.

With careful reverence, it adjusted the master’s laurel.

“Welcome back, by lord.” the voice purred. “You expressed quite the interest in the Cataegis Primarch.”

She groaned. Golden irises flickered back and forth, as if in distress, beneath her lids. Valdor’s other hand reached up to stroke through her hair, careful not to upset the laurel.

“I had thought you would have recognized him, my lord. It was, after all, his grave that I showed you that night upon the mountain.”

He makes a long, slow chuckle, almost like amusement, if he had been capable of it. “I had expected you’ve greeted him already, my master. You were standing atop his bones.”

Somewhere, distantly, thunder growled. And without even being conscious of it, she shivered, and tried to burrow closer to his warmth.

Pinglist(checks notes, holy fuck!): @nonus-secundus @badbobdooley @bleedingichorhearts @starfrost740 @katie-faye1 @sigtamds @troylovesdoomguy @the-pure-angel @metronix36-blog @krynnmeridia @distantmoonbeam @futuristicchaospoetry @liar-anubiass-blog @subtle-like-a-brick-to-the-face @squishyowl @slaanesh @absent-still @sharenadraculea @idonotknowhowtochoosenames

#Yandere Constantin Valdor #constantin valdor #warhammer 40k #wh40k #warhammer #adeptus custodes #yandere custodes #constantin valdor x reader #unhealthy relationships #ushotan #he gets mentioned but it doesn’t matter #thunder warriors #emperor of mankind #valdor x emperor #or at least in valdor’s delusional mind #male yandere #sculptor of crimson #warhammer writing prompts

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armory-rasa · 3 months

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Bazubands part 1: A LESSON IN HUMILITY 🤣

So one of my projects for the winter break was to make a set of bazubands made for myself -- a middle eastern armor piece that provides all-in-one wrist/forearm/elbow protection, and the easiest way to get the coverage required for SCA fighting. (My garb is viking, but such are the exigencies of modern safety standards, that fighters usually wind up with a mix of armor types.)

Anyway, I packed up the necessary tools and materials and took them with me when I went to visit my parents, which is why the backdrop for these pictures isn't my usual workshop.

Found a pattern on google, cut it out of 10-12 oz veg tan, traced/carved/tooled it:

(You can see why this is the easiest way to get elbow protection, it's WAY less fiddly than trying to do articulated plates around the joint.)

Soaked the elbow cop again (because it was starting to dry out by the time I was done tooling), rounded it out and stitched it up:

Dyed it black, in my parents' backyard:

(And if you use Angelus dyes, that's how you keep from spilling it -- the box has little perforations so that it can hold the bottle safely upright.)

WAX THAT MOTHERFUCKER:

It doesn't show in that picture, but I have a metal bowl of wax (jeweler's casting wax) melting on the stovetop. I alternate between brushing it onto the leather, which looks like the picture above, and then putting the leather in the oven at ~200F, at 10-20 minute intervals, until the wax soaks in. Repeat until the leather is fully saturated and does not absorb more wax. (This often takes hours, so find something else to multitask with.)

But when you're done -- ta da!

Your project will be thoroughly waterproof, very strong and hard, with a low lustre. It's functionally ABS plastic at this point.

The next step was padding, so I got some sheepskin and and fitted it to the inside:

(idk why it's so fucking orange, but the alternative was kind of a mint-mucus green. I think the orange is growing on me though.)

Time to pattern the other, simpler piece of the bazuband, because they're hinged to enclose your full arm:

(I couldn't do this earlier, and therefore do both pieces concurrently, because I had no idea how much bulk the padding was going to add to my arm. I suppose you could wrap your arm in padding when you're measuring at the start.)

Slapped a quick design on it:

(And carved & tooled it too, though I neglected to get pictures of that.)

And then--

DISASTER, MY FRIENDS.

I put it in the oven, and it lost its gd mind.

WHAT.

Seriously, just -- words do not do this abomination justice. o_O

LOOK AT IT.

Coming so close on the heels of the Khorasan pouch, which had turned out absolutely perfect and has been more widely shared and lauded than anything else I've posted, this was a humbling experience. 🤣 Like, yes you're good, Gabriel, but you're not immune to fucking up.

So what happened here? Why did the same leather as the bazubands, undergoing the exact same steps and processes, turn out like THIS?

I'd have to repeat the experiment to 100% confirm my theory, but I'm pretty sure the critical difference is that I was speed-running this one, and I didn't wait for the dye to fully dry before I started waxing it. It wound up with, essentially, wet leather hermetically encased in wax, and since the water didn't have anywhere to go, it did weird things to the structure of the leather fibers when it started heating up. And because I don't often work with wax, I had somehow never run into this situation before, and thus already learned that lesson.

Ah well.

It wasn't a huge amount of leather, and it was only like two hours of work, so I'm not that fussed about it. (More embarrassed than anything else, at what feels like a very rookie mistake -- and conscious that it could have been SO MUCH WORSE if that had happened to the larger bazuband pieces, which had a lot more time and materials sunk into them.)

Anyway, I'm going to tweak the pattern a bit, make it narrower at the wrist and a bit longer, and change the design to something that matches the dragon better -- and let it fully dry this time. 😂

#leatherworking #wip pics #bazubands #liveblogging projects #cautionary tale

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bypandoramaxum · 1 year

Text

journey through the reefs [an atwow series] chp. 3

summary: it didn’t take you too long to figure out that no one on this ship would be showing you any type of mercy, let alone your Na’vi cell neighbour. after witnessing the crew giving him a hard time, you made the decision to befriend the giant creature.

[prev] [next]

pairings: ao’nung [25] x fem!human!reader [20]

word count: 3.8k

warnings: depictions of violence, torture, bodily restraints, weapons, blood, animal cruelty, abduction, human savagery, recoms being recoms, Quaritch (he’s a whole ass warning atp).

taglist: @jakesully-sbabygirl @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @eywas-heir @sweetirilly @myh3artttt

a/n: after a busy week of work, I’ve managed to finish chapter 3. so sorry this took so long, but I hope you still enjoy it nonetheless!~

»»————-　.　————-««

The fresh shower you had prior did nothing to soothe the uneasiness that plagued your dark and running thoughts. Your heartbeat hastened with every pace you made in your cell, your front teeth nibbling on your thumb as you tried your hardest to stay as calm as possible, trying to convince yourself that the Na’vi was alright, that nothing too atrocious had been inflicted on him, that he would be back in his cell in no time.

“Agh! What the hell am I thinking?” you exclaimed, to no one in particular.

Of course, he wasn’t alright. There was no way he was coming out of whatever shithole these savages put him through unscathed. Just what kind of sick, twisted games were they playing with him? Were there special torture devices designed to be used on the Na’vi species? Perhaps they were trying to brainwash him extensively to the point where he loses himself in the process? Just thinking about all the possible violations he could have endured never failed to churn your stomach, as if your heart had found its way to it. Just the idea of him coming back a bloodier mess than before…

…or perhaps…

…dead.

You shook your head to rid yourself of those dreadful thoughts. Now was not the time to be fretting about an uncertain outcome. You had decided that your current goal was to get him out safely and if possible, back to his home, allowing him to return to the comfort of his family. If he had any, that was.

Your pacing was brought to an abrupt halt as you heard pounding on the door of your cell. Turning your gaze to it, Colonel Quaritch entered the room with three other recom avatars following right behind him, holding large guns in their arms.

“Well, runt, hope you had slept well last night, ‘cause you’re going to be needing that energy for what’s coming for you.” the colonel informed.

“What am I going to do?” you replied with a hint of anxiety.

“It’s simple, really. All you have to do is just observe the big guy, see what he does, maybe talk to him a bit. But our ultimate goal here is to gain his trust. You any good in Na’vi?”

“Know enough to probably scheme behind your back.”

The colonel eyes widened slightly at your retort, before chuckling lowly to himself. You glared back at him, while you never showed it, you felt a sense of pride and cockiness bloom within you, relishing in the fact that you probably hit a nerve.

However, before you could voice out another come back, the colonel charged forward and grappled you by the neck, lifting you up while applying pressure to it. It wasn’t enough to kill you, but sufficient in scaring the living crap out of you.

“Seems like this runt has gotten a little too smart with running her mouth, huh?” Quaritch commented, menace and rage lacing the tone of his voice. “Perhaps we should teach her a little lesson, let her know what happens when people back-talk. What do you think, Lyle?”

“We could start off by slicing that tongue off, that’ll get her to behave.” the recom named Lyle suggested.

“Her hair’s pretty long, perhaps we could shave her head clean” the woman from earlier chimed in.

“She’s got some pretty fingers. Hope she doesn’t mind losing a few.” another recom added.

Hearing every suggestion of torture these goons brought up filled you with a sense of apprehension and horror, making you flail in the tight grasp of the colonel. He retained his venomous glare on you as you struggled in your panicked state. You weren’t exactly regretting for saying that to him, but you did feel extremely stupid for putting yourself in dangerous situations like this one because of your bad habit of saying things before thinking them through. In that moment, the only thing that came into your mind was your father lecturing you about the importance of not being too straightforward and hasty with your words, as they could land you in scenarios that would be tricky to get out of. Oh, how you wished you had listened to him back then instead of dismissing it like it was just another one of those annoying parental naggings.

Your pride and stubbornness were going to be the death of you, so thinking to yourself that it would be wise to just drop the tough guy demeanour and start begging for forgiveness and mercy in order for your life to be spared.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry, sir! I p-promise I’ll never d-d-do it again!” you managed to cry out, while pathetically grasping at the colonel’s grip on your thin neck.

“Or we could do it the easy way, just another squeeze of my fingers and her fragile neck will snap like a twig.” Quaritch muttered sinisterly while his comrades snickered at his words.

“Please d-don’t! P-Please just let me go! I’ll do a-a-anything you s-say, sir! Anything you want, j-just please! Have mercy!”

The colonel glared at you once more before releasing his harsh grip from your neck, causing you to topple onto the ground. You ended up on all fours, gasping for air and coughing violently from the assault, bringing a hand up to your neck to soothe the throbbing ache. It was definitely going to bruise for sure if you didn’t get it treated soon.

Before you could fully compose yourself, you were forcibly pulled to stand on your weak two feet by the female recom. She laid a firm hold on your shoulders while the other recom cuffed your hands behind your back. Next thing you knew you were being rushed out of the cell with the recom’s grip still on your hands and Quaritch walking in front of you leading the way.

There was difficulty in paying attention to your steps as you stumbled a few times, but at that point, you could care less about watching where you were going. All you have in mind was what you were going to be faced with, and you were sure as hell that you weren’t going to like what you saw.

»»————-　.　————-««

After what seemed like an eternity later, you were brought in front of what looked like an interrogation room, although it had a much larger interior and it lacked any tables or chairs. Looking in, you saw a group of scientists, all masked up, circling something at the far back of the room. You couldn’t quite make out what it was from where you were standing, but it didn’t seem necessary as you heard wails and cries of pain coming from inside. Your ears perked up at the noises, indicating to you that it was most likely your Na’vi cell neighbour.

The scientists soon dispersed from each other and exited the room, giving you a full view of the abuse that they inflicted on the already beaten up Na’vi. The number of bruises on his body seemed to multiply since last night. He had his hands cuffed behind him like you were, and was still being held by that spiked collar and chain, but around the lower half of his face, he adorned a titanium muzzle, possibly to keep him from biting people. Wow, they were really treating him like some rabid canine.

“Alright, let’s not waste any more time. Uncuff her and toss her inside.” Colonel Quaritch ordered, his comrades nodding at his words before doing as told.

His words barely registered in your mind before you felt yourself being hurled into the room, causing you to fall flat on the floor. You groaned in pain as you got up to your knees before turning your gaze to everyone outside the room.

“Don’t worry your little head in, squirt! He’s too fucked up to even do anything to you anyway.” said the female recom, who you came to know as Z-Dog.

“Even if he does, there’s nothing our guns can’t do.” Lyle added.

You averted your eyes from the group, resisting the urge to roll your eyes before turning to the blue man before you.

Well, it seemed the gut feeling you had earlier in the cell was unfortunately right. He was in a bloodier mess than before, and cursed yourself internally, almost blaming yourself for maybe foreseeing this horrible outcome. Perhaps if you never thought about it in the first place, you wouldn’t have had to see the sight before you.

As you scooted on your knees, you worked your way closer to him, feeling a little more confident than before although a part of you still felt nervous from being in such a close proximity to him. You reached your hand out, attempting to make contact with him, before he jolted in fright, backing away from you hastily, his back touching the cold wall. Though cowering, he still maintained his eye contact, making sure you weren’t trying anything again.

You nearly facepalmed at what you just did. Of course, he was going to be afraid of you after what the humans did with him before your arrival.

This was definitely going to be a long day for the both of you.

“S-Sorry. No harm. I’m here to help.” you spoke to him in simple Na’vi, hoping to ease him even slightly. “We have to get your hands free. Will you let me?”

The Na’vi just glared at you suspiciously, not wanting to trust you just because he understood you.

“If you stay like this forever, your hands will hurt. A lot.” you said again while gesturing to your own wrists that were slightly bruised from the stress of the cuffs.

He still chose to stay silent, backing away even more from you and turning around to face the wall behind him.

You let out a sigh in defeat. Well, there was no going anywhere from here, at least not in the current state he was in. It was apparent that he wasn’t going to be giving you his trust anytime soon. Hence, you mirrored his movements, backing away from him as well to allow him the space to collect his thoughts.

Walking up to the front of the window, you requested for the key to the handcuffs so you could unbind his wrists. The scientists were hesitant at first, but after reassuring them that you knew what you were doing, they placed the key into a small drawer that connected the outside to the room. You picked it up, went over to him but still keeping a good distance and showed him the key.

“This tool can unbind your hands.” you said as you mimicked the gesture of unlocking the cuffs. “Once you’re ready, just let me know.”

The Na’vi still refused to look at you, still facing the wall, but you took notice of his ears perking upwards, indicating that he heard you loud and clear. That action made your lips curl into a small smile as you found it quite endearing. These creatures were so easy to read.

Moving back to your spot away from him, you sat down on the floor with your legs crossed and hands on each knee. You figured it would be best to get to know him a little better since you guys were going to be stuck together for a little while.

“My name is [Y/N]. Just call for me if you wish to free your hands.” you spoke again, hoping that by giving him a name to work with, he would be more inclined to accepting your help.

“Alright, looks like you’re a natural at this, guinea pig. Why don’t we just leave you here for a bit while you continue to get friendly with ol’ Frankenstein’s monster here?” Quaritch suggested, a hint of sarcasm lacing his tone.

“That would be a good idea, sir. He would probably feel less threatened without so many eyes watching his every move. I’ll probably get him to let his guard down soon that way.” you replied.

“Well, I don’t care how you do it. Listen, once he’s on our side, get him to spill where the other tulkuns usually hang out. The demand is getting pretty high, and we’re going to need a lot more to meet our quotas.”

“…Yes, sir.” You muttered hesitantly.

“Just pressed the red alert button near the door if you need anything.” The colonel said before gathering his squad and most of the scientists to leave, leaving two of them to monitor you. One of them being Thomas.

Once they were gone, you let your head fall in shame. Why did you have to be reminded that your sole purpose of being near him was to gain intel? It became clear to you that you weren’t just a guinea pig for them to test run, you had also essentially become an undercover spy for the humankind. In the case that you did gain his trust, were you going to have to make the arduous decision to betray him at the end? To throw it back in his face like it meant nothing to you at all?

Sigh.

Why did every decision you make in your life had to be so stressful?

Why couldn’t things be a lot simpler?

Why did humans have to come here and ruin peace?

Why were you even here?

Why?

Before you knew it, the endless ‘whys’ had you dozing off into a quiet snooze, with the slight noise of snoring being emitted. You managed to curl yourself up in your spot, attempting to gain some warmth despite the cold atmosphere you were surrounded by. Not another thought came to mind as you allowed yourself to bask in some comfort.

What you didn’t realise due to your slumber, was that the Na’vi had turned around to look at your sleeping figure. While he was still terrified, he couldn’t help but be intrigued by you, especially your character. You approached him with some form of caution, almost in a non-threatening manner. You spoke to him in a gentle and soothing tone, which he found somewhat reassuring and helpful to some degree. His heart fluttered in a way it never did before when you still offered to help him, even going as far as to obtain the tool that will free him from his shackles, though he had rejected your advances in that aspect. While he felt a little overwhelmed by your zealousness, you never forced contact with him in any way. You respected his space and boundaries, never overstepping them, heck, just being within his vicinity made you feel guilty.

You were one peculiar human, that was for sure. Everyone else he encountered were vial, wicked, and downright evil. Everything that went down happened so quickly, too.

»»————-　.　————-««

He and his friends were out hunting for the day, prepared to bring a large feast back to the clan. They ventured out a little farther than they had before, a few miles out from Three Brothers Rock. This part of the sea was not the most welcoming. The tides were a lot harsher, the winds blew stronger, and the creatures lurking were unforgiving. But on the upside, the catch here was incredibly valuable. The variety of seafood that thrived here were rare to find and were considered the best kinds within the clan. In an attempt to prove himself to be worthy as the future Olo’eyktan, he decided that he was going to bring back the best of the best, showing that he could be a great provider to his clan.

So then off he went with his friends in search of the good catch. The hunt didn’t come without come challenges, such as fighting and chasing away some other fishes trying to steal their catch, as well as hiding away from dangerous predators that they stood no chance against. But after a couple hours, they managed to catch enough to feed the entire village for a good few days.

The men were just about to head back home when all of a sudden, an unfamiliar noise was emitted from a distance. Turning themselves towards the sound, they saw a large boat speeding towards them. Aboard were a few sky demons and fake Na’vis, and they looked like they were out for blood.

It didn’t take long for the Na’vi men to realise that they were in grave danger, and had to get out of there as soon as possible. Gripping firmly onto their skimwings, they swam as quickly as they possibly could to escape.

Unfortunately for them, it seemed that the demon boat was a lot faster than they had anticipated as it caught up to them in a blink of an eye. He noticed one of the demons aimed its gun at him, and before he could register a full dodge, the bullet was shot and it hit his skimwing, killing it instantly and causing him to fall into the ocean. He wasn’t exactly safe from the bullet either as it grazed his right arm slightly.

As he swam back up to the surface, he tried calling out to his friends, hoping they were coming back to get him out of there, but as he looked around, they were nowhere to be seen. No, he couldn’t believe it. He could feel his heart shatter at the realisation that they weren’t coming back for him. How could they? He had known them since childhood, they shared every moment together, he took the blame for every time they got into trouble with his father, and this was how it ended? To think they left him to take the fall to save their own asses. Some friends they are.

Before he could fully comprehend the betrayal that he felt, a giant net was thrown onto him before it automatically engulfed him. In his frantic state, he unsheathed his hunting knife and tried to cut his way out of the entrapment. However, his attempts were proven to be futile as he was then lifted by a crane and dropped abruptly onto the boat. Several of the fake Na’vis jumped into action and restrained him, preventing him from thrashing about. The next thing he knew was a sharp pain that went through his arm and his eyelids grew heavy due to a drowsy sensation drifting him off to sleep.

The worst part about this whole ordeal was the physically and mentally brutal torture sessions that he had to endure within the ship. He had been punched, kicked, shocked, strangled, whipped, he experienced almost every act of violence under the sun. During his torment, all he could think about was his family. Would he make it out alive to see them again? What if these sky demons returned him home dead? How would his parents feel of having to bury their first-born child? What would happen with his baby sister? Who would be there to wipe her tears away due to his absence?

Would he…

…would he be able to have the chance to say goodbye?

»»————-　.　————-««

His eyes snapped open as he jolted awake from his unexpected slumber. He quickly sat up straight and looked around him, only to be disappointed at the fact that he was still in the room, with his wrist bound and muzzle still attached to his face. He looked towards where you laid, and there you were, still sound asleep. It was around this time where he truly felt the discomfort that the restrictions on him brought, and he wanted nothing more than to be free from them. He almost felt bad for doing this, as he emitted some grunting noises in an attempt to get your attention. His actions alerted the two scientists monitoring the room, as they both looked up to check out what was going on.

After a few moments, you slowly but surely stirred awake from your snooze fest and was about to chew out whoever woke you up until your eyes fall on the Na’vi in front of you who was now a lot closer to you than before, his chain keeping him at least a metre away from you.

You stared at him in bewilderment and excitement, though you tried not to be too expressive about it. Had he finally let his guard down and decided to trust you? Was he finally going to accept your offer in helping him?

Okay, calm down, it was best to not get too ahead of yourself. You didn’t want to risk scaring him off again.

Before things got tense, you decided to break the awkward silence that hung in the air.

“H-Hi! It seems you’re still awake. What do you need?” you asked cheerfully.

The Na’vi didn’t respond, but gestured to his bound wrist, asking for your assistance in freeing him.

“Oh, of course! I’ll get to that in a bit. Just let me take that thing off your face first.” you got up to your knees to be eye level with him as you reached forward to grab hold the straps of the muzzle. “No biting.”

He nodded obediently at your warning as he watched you loosen the straps of the muzzle before removing it from his face and chucking it aside. Wow, he really felt he could breathe again. Next, you moved behind him and reached into your pocket for the key to his handcuffs, unlocking it and letting it drop to the floor. Once his hands were free, he brought them forward and massaged them a little to soothe the ache on them, with dark purple bruises becoming visible.

As you moved to sit yourself in front of him, your eyes drifted to his features once more now that they were closer in view. They seemed sharper than the ones of forest Na’vi’s, and every time he blinked, you noticed a secondary eyelid that would unfold after the primary one did, which reminded you of reptiles on Earth that had a similar trait. His eyes were a beautiful azure, you swore you could stare at them the whole day, but you forced yourself to snap out of it before you started creeping him out. You couldn’t help but find this man, despite being of a different species, attractive.

Wait, what?

Didn’t you hear yourself?

He was a different species.

Better to not embarrass yourself any longer.

But that wasn’t the only thing that caught you off guard. You could hardly believe your ears when you heard it escape his lips.

“[Y/N].” he said timidly, almost in a whisper-like voice.

“Yes. Yes! That’s me! [Y/N]! My name!” you responded enthusiastically, with your eyes shining brightly. Gosh, you sounded like a mother excited at her child’s first words. “What about you? Do you have one?”

The Na’vi pondered for a moment, his hands massaging each other in self-comfort, before he looked up at you and uttered,

“Ao’nung.”

»»————-　.　————-««

a/n: so that’s chapter 3 for you! hope you liked it, and please let me know what you think about it (but be nice please~). now excuse me, I’ll have to go write up chapter 4.

like and reblog if you enjoyed!~

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