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teyamsatan · 10 months

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕍𝕀𝕀: 𝕄𝕒𝕪𝕓𝕖 𝕎𝕖'𝕧𝕖 ℍ𝕒𝕕 𝔼𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: You and Neteyam finally confront each other, after a seven year war that left you broken and bruised.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (mentions of violence, battle, blood, death, confrontation, admission of feelings), smut, strong language.

wc: 7k words

a/n: we're almost at the end, besties. i want to say a massive thank you for being patient with me, i have struggled with writer's block for a while now, and my life is incredibly hectic at the moment, but thank you for continuing to inspire me to write this story that has come to mean so much to me :(. i hope you enjoy this chapter, that i once again somehow feel weirdly insecure about hahaha, and i hope you'll find it was worth the wait. also this is only mildly proof read bc i am exhausted and i need to sleep ;((( i'll come back to it in the morning i promise x (also pls someone comment on the fact in the photo vi's looking up and he's looking down cause you know - rise and fall together and all)

pls don't forget to leave a comment or a reblog and tell me your thoughts, i loveee to hear from you so much!

na'vi compendium: txepvi - spark, oare - moon, nawm - great, syä - bitter, tanhì - bioluminescent freckle, tewng - loincloth, tsakarem - tsa'hik in training, yawne - beloved

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

I carved my name into your ribcage We talked of lands away from this cage

"Dad always talks about Earth as if it was a dying hole, but... I don't know."

Neteyam's head was positioned snugly in your lap as you both stared intently at the sky, trying to make sense of the shapes of clouds, and the way they passed you by like birds in the night sky, never to be seen again, just a memento of the present and how every moment was unique and precious, and needed to be cherished. You both loved doing that, in between practice sessions, or before, or after, a way to ground you and remind you there's still beauty in this world outside of what you were being taught, of how everything was in preparation for a grisly reality you both struggled to come to terms with.

"Yes?"

"The little videos we've seen, of the movies and shows Norm and Max and the other humans like to watch... and the books they make us read during English lessons and the music... it doesn't seem that bad, you know? It seems they were happy, and... good. It seemed they lived for more than just fighting and greed, more than this."

You thought about it for a while. He was right. Humans were... beautiful, in their own ways. They had love and heart and soul in a way you never thought possible - it seemed there was always beauty to be found even in the darkest of corners, even in the most unsightly of places, and that gave you hope.

"I want to be more than this, too."

Your eyes snapped from the sky to him, and his eyes met yours, boring into you with a vehemence that almost scared you. When he rose from his spot, he faced you, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath fanning over you, and your heart stumbled in your chest at the proximity and the way his smile always managed to take your breath away.

"I want to know more than this. I will learn, and I will work hard, and I will fight, but Vi, one day, you and me, we'll be free of this. Free to do whatever we want, free to spend our days like the humans in the movies, just happy and ourselves. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Yes. I'd like that."

You said, don't fret love, someday I'll be my own man, I'll be free Oh, but darling, did you mean Darling, did you mean free from me?

“O’i’en…” your voice was hoarse and barely there, a croaking whisper you hardly recognised as your own, but still there. You were still here, and at least for that, you were grateful. Because there was more to your life. So much more you wanted to do and see, so much you felt you were made for and deserved, so much you still have to repent and atone for. Your mind was scrambled with visions of your past, so many of them you’ve lost count, the continuous onslaught barely ceasing as you woke, and you still felt like in a liminal state of being, not quite dead, but not quite alive, either. In those dreams, images of your old Neteyam were intertwined with his face now, much colder, much wiser, somehow even more beautiful, and confessions of “I love you” mingled with hushed whispers of “why is she not awake yet?” and commotion beyond your understanding. You needed answers. The battle, that now felt like a lifetime away to you, also somehow felt like it had just finished, and you rose from your spot with only one thought in mind: Oare was hurt. She was shot, and you needed to find her.

You wondered if it was fate, or Eywa's doing, that O'i'en was the first person you ran into, even as you were trying to avoid any semblance of another soul, the guilt and sadness mingling in you with flashes of worst-case scenarios, ones in which your distracted mind led to deaths that you will forever carry on your shoulders, that you will forever blame yourself for, that you were sure other people would, too, ones which you were too scared to prove and too spent to disprove, so you settled for ignorance and denial, at least until you found your ikran.

"Oh, Eywa, you're alive!" you were taken aback by his surprise, and by his pure, unadulterated relief and happiness as his eyes found your form, limping and bruised, with bloodied and torn garments and yet still... alive. You didn’t think O’i’en would ever want to see you again, much less acknowledge you or talk to you, but here he was, running, as much as he could, the gash in his leg preventing him from any true momentum, but still, he ran to you and enveloped you in a big hug, that you couldn’t help but reciprocate, melting into his all-too-familiar touch that’s always felt comforting and safe, and never bruising or cold.

You sighed as your mind, much as it always did, brought to its forefront another face, another body, another man that never ceased to pull you out of the moment and into whatever fantasy your mind concocted to replace reality with. As you tightened your arms around him, your palms flat against his back, you noticed your fingers being coated in warm liquid, and the feel of it, as well as the smell of metal that hit you immediately after, made you gasp and break the embrace, using whatever force you had to turn him around and inspect the wound you knew had to be bad enough, if so much blood was pouring out of it, but still couldn’t help be shocked when you were proven right.

“Fuck, your back…”

“I know… I haven’t had the chance to go see the healers yet.”

“You haven’t ha- are you serious right now? Come, let’s go now.” You almost forgot about the your plan to avoid people, too concerned for the ugly looking gash pulsating blood that trickled down his toned back, until it soaked in his soiled tewng. He didn’t let you move him, instead taking your wrists in his hand and holding you still.

“You look like you’re about to collapse, how are you still so bossy? Besides… there’s people who need it more than me.” The purple twinge in his cheeks let you know this wasn’t quite the truth. Not the whole truth. O’i’en was the most selfless person you’ve ever met, and yet, this wasn’t the whole truth. You looked tired and broken, scared and forlorn, and yet, with all your might, you tried to contort your face into something you hoped resembled the way Jake would raise the hairs above his eyes in a clearly disapproving expression, and while you lacked the most important aspect of that whole stare, it clearly worked, because he winced and broke the look you shared, choosing a spot on the ground instead.

“After… everything, I just didn’t know if I could…or should… go get help from the Tsa’hik. It feels like everywhere I look, you follow. I knew you were hurt as well, and I didn’t know if I could handle seeing you like that, or seeing you at all. But now that you’re here, I realise… I’m just happy you’re alive.”

You smiled, a small feat that felt like the hardest task you’ve ever been assigned, but still, you were glad to know there was still something salvageable about your relationship with the man you once thought you’d spent the rest of your life with.

“Come, sit. I’ll clean the wound myself.”

“You shouldn’t-“ He stopped when he noticed your look. You were too tired to be trifled with, and he was smart enough to know that.

You promised home, the kind I'd never known But here we are, skin and flesh and beating hearts And I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing wrong

You worked in silence, as much as you could, the thoughts spiralling in your head, worse with each passing second, and although you didn’t want to ask, you knew you couldn’t avoid it any longer, not when he looked so sad and despondent, not when the gash in his back spoke to a battle fiercer than you wanted to picture, not when you couldn’t help wonder if it was all on you. With a sigh, you spoke, and watched as he went rigid with every word uttered.

“What happened, O’i’en?”

“What do you remember?”

“Nothing. I remember falling… i remember Oare getting shot.” You wince at the memory, at how it was your unsteady, tired, distracted mind that made her a vulnerable target.

“Nothing else.”

O'i'en's whole body stiffened, and your hand stilled midair, shivers pulsating in your body as dread enveloped it.

“What. Happened. O’i’en?”

"After you fell... the battle... took a turn for the worse. A lot of Na'vi died, a lot of our mounts died, too..."

"The Olo'eyktan and Tsakarem tried their best, we all did, but without you and Neteyam..."

The guilt that was big enough to almost crumble you into a mess of sobs and broken shards on the ground dulled just for a moment while his words rang in your ears, echoing until they clicked, until you made sense of their meaning.

"Neteyam...? Where was Neteyam, why wasn't he fighting?"

His body turns to face you again, his barely patched-up wound forgotten in the moment that felt ever-lasting, but not like how time stands still as you're enveloped in a kiss, but like a nightmare you can't escape from, where a moment lasts hours, where every scream is expelled in slow-motion and the monsters get closer and closer with each breath that gets lodged in your dry, hoarse throat.

"He tried to catch you, but couldn't. I think he took you back to the village. He didn't return after. They say..."

"They say he hasn't left your tent since. We've all been working, trying to get everyone back, ready for the funeral, but he... he never left the Tsa'hik's tent."

"You're wrong." What he was saying made no sense. Neteyam has done nothing but wish for your demise ever since you were both nothing more than mere children. His hatred never diminished through time, and neither did yours. You both despised each other more and more each day, with every year passed, with every instance in which neither of you relented or found it in you to be better and take the high road. This whole ordeal, this whole nightmare that only started when you woke up, it was his fault. The fact that so many people died, that you were in this state, that Oare.... fuck. Oare.

“Where are you going? You need to take it easy.”

“I need to find her. I need to make sure she’s ok, she’s probably in pain and suffering and I should be the-“

You stop when you notice his grieving grimace, his eyes fixed on the ground, tears falling at his feet, that you followed from his eyes to their demise as they splattered on the ground, the droplets hitting your ankles in the process.

“No.”

Silence. Dead silence. Death silence. Silence that you couldn’t help fill with a crescendo of denial, louder and higher pitched with every new attempt.

“No, please. Tell me you’re wrong.”

“I saw her… in the lineup.”

“The lineup?”

“Of all the dead… dead animals and na’vi. So many of them, i lost count. She was there… I’m so sorry.”

Your tears mingled with his own as they collapsed on your feet and on the grass, and you forgot for a second of your rule - no crying in front of people. You forgot this as you forgot everything else, even your own name pushed from your memory as it was flooded instead with images of her, of your sister, that you loved so much, that you cherished deeply, that you thought you’d be able to for the rest of your life, that you were now told was gone, taken from you, in spite of you… because of you.

“No…Oare, no…”

“She’s with Eywa now… I’m so sorry.”

You said, "Let's make ourselves our very own brigade, this love our shield, our blade" Oh, but darling do you see the cuts from which I bleed? It's me you've slain

"Have you seen her? Have you seen syä?"

"What do you mean, Lo'ak?"

"She's gone, bro. She's not in grandmother's tent anymore."

Neteyam felt the blood drain from his face and settle at the soles of his feet, trickling through and into the ground, until he was so empty he felt faint, he felt like he would never be the same again. So many emotions tried him, from ecstatic relief that he couldn’t even explain to himself, at the fact that you were awake, and well enough to walk, to paralysing fear that overwhelmed him, at the fact you were out in your state, that you were gone Eywa knows where, at the fact he’s now going to have to face you and talk to you.

Too many things have changed in such a short amount of time, so many things he couldn’t make sense of or understand, too many revelations and the possibility of more, of the truth, that Neteyam dreaded. A lose-lose situation, his dad would call it - either he confronted you and you told him his father misunderstood, that it wasn’t true, that you too loved him the way he loved you, which meant the last seven years of both your lives, everything you have put each other through would have been for nothing, or his father was right, and having a confirmation of your lack of feelings, which is what he thought fuelled your actions all these years, which was a truth he avoided knowing for a fact for so long, and that might be too hard to bear after all.

“We have to find her, grandma said she shouldn’t be walking around.”

“I know where she is.”

He’s always known where you were when you wanted to be alone. He’s always known because it’s a place that used to be his, his secret spot, his uncharted paradise. A place that he showed to you when you were both children, and that became a safe heaven for the both of you in time, that you took from him after your unfortunate fallout. Just one more thing you ended up taking from him in time. He couldn’t have returned to this place anyway, not with all the memories of you that plagued it, that might as well have been enclosed in a room stuck in a past that he never wanted to revisit.

It took him no time at all to find you, his mind disassociating from the walk, until it was like he blinked and he was there, in the clearing that he dreaded coming to, where the last time he came, he took it too far, the memory of the words that you spat at each other, the way his anger physically manifested itself for the first time in his life, the way he lost control of his emotions and his temper, it was all so ugly and unsightly, it hurt him even thinking about it.

Your back was turned to him as you lay on the edge of the lake, one leg dangling mindlessly in the water, and Neteyam’s heart dropped to his stomach at the sight of you - your hunched shoulders, so far removed from the awe-inspiring, empowered stance you normally displayed to people. Your tail was thrashing furiously from side to side, ears pushed flat against your head that rested on your bent knee, braided hair tousled and unkept as it fell over your face, shielding you from view. Neteyam didn’t even know whether he should speak - if there was still a voice in his throat that could push sounds out, and as he tried, he heard nothing, the only sound in his ears one of muffled, panted breaths and thunderous, erratic heartbeats, that somehow drowned everything else out.

"Leave."

Neteyam ignored your words, all of his senses focused on your voice, on the sniffles that accompanied it, and what they represented. Neteyam has seen you cry only a couple times in all the time he's known you, and not once since your fallout. He was sure you would have rather swallowed a poisoned knife's blade than show weakness in front of him. He gulped audibly when he realised that if you did, that means you knew... if you did, there was no escaping the wrath that was currently embedded in your soul, that he wasn't sure would ever leave you again.

“Why are you here? You should be resting.”

He heard you scoff, bitterness laced through your voice that normally was sweet as a yovo fruit on a summer day, that now felt spoilt, like it had been left rotting on the ground, with no one the wiser.

“Since when do you care about my wellbeing, huh? Last thing I knew I could be dead in a ditch and you’d probably throw a party and dance over my grave. Leave me be, I don't want to deal with you right now.”

"Txepvi... Just co-"

"Don't you dare call me that. You have long forsaken the right to call me that. Just fucking leave, Neteyam."

He felt anger pricking at him like a dagger he was all too familiar with, that was dull and middling, but whose sting still hurt if pushed into his skin at the correct angle, in the right spot, where he was weak.

"I'm not leaving until you get back to the tent. Tsa'hik's orders." That was a lie, but one he felt at liberty to make, since it was quite certain his grandmother would want you back resting, and not galavanting in the woods, with a wound that almost killed you, that made you easy prey for the apex predators lurking in the thick foliage.

I didn't obliterate these walls for you to come and raid my home And here you are right next to me Ironically, I've never felt more alone

“Why did you stay with me?”

Whatever anger he had immediately dissipated like droplets water of a hot day, replaced by the same fear that was plaguing him early, that not even the adrenaline coursing through his veins could overpower. What was he supposed to say? It's not like he had an answer to give you - he couldn't even conceptualise it for himself, much less put it into words that would make sense, that would ever satisfy your morbid curiosity.

“Answer me, Neteyam.”

“I don’t know.”

You rose from your spot on the edge of the lake, and when you turned to face him and your eyes locked, his breath lodged in his throat. You looked anguished, sadder than he's ever seen you, puffy eyes so red, it scared him, cheeks purple and stained, and swollen, wet lips opened to accommodate the heaved breaths and quiet sobs that you tried your hardest to push down, so that he wouldn't see.

It was too late, now. He could see. He could see it all, and it scared him, what you were doing to him, these feelings that were rushing down with enough force to make him buckle under their weight, just like a waterfall that crashed into the river below, warping it with its power.

“No, we’re not doing this shit anymore. My ikran is dead. People are dead, Neteyam. All because of us, because this stupid war, that you caused. That you started. I’m done with the games, and the mystery, and your stupid mouth staying shut. You don’t know? Figure it out. Now.”

I fell for you faster than I fell apart And I guess I'm the one to blame for letting myself fall too hard

"I don't fucking know, OK? I just needed to - fuck. I needed to make sure you'll live."

"Why?! Why the fuck would you care if I live or die? Why? You haven't cared for more than half our lives, and now, when you would have been more useful on the battlefield, when you could have prevented this mess that you caused to begin with, now you want to play the fucking hero?"

“That I started? Are you hearing yourself right now? I wasn’t the one that pushed, and pushed, and pushed until whatever thread it was that still bound us together turned from wool to steel and snapped, yawne. You made it your life purpose to ruin mine, at every turn, in every way imaginable, for years. I did nothing to you, damn it. I just stopped talking to you. I didn’t hurt you, or purposefully tried to make you ache or suffer, I tried to keep my mouth shut and go about my life, without infringing on yours. I didn’t do anything to hurt you, for fuck’s sa-“

“You keeping your mouth shut and going about your life as if your life wasn’t impermeably connected to mine was what fucking hurt me, Neteyam! You saying nothing, doing nothing, acting like I didn’t exist, like I was just a toy you outgrew, that was worse than anything I could have ever fucking done to you, don’t you understand that? Do you understand that you abandoned me? Me, Neteyam, the person who was always there for you, the person who always had your back. Your best friend, your confidant, your training buddy, your sister. I was everything to you, and you just acted like that meant nothing at all."

"It meant everything! And my father fucking ruined it, and you ruined it. You ruined it, and I'll never, ever forgive you." the intensity behind his eyes, glistening with unshed tears that reflected the rays of the sun hitting his golden irises, the ones that put stars to shame and brought you to your knees, scared you. You came here to cry, and let it out. You came here to mourn. You didn't expect this. Didn't want this. But, for the first time in years, Neteyam was talking to you. Neteyam was telling you truths buried deep within his soul, deep behind walls you've tried to climb and pierce through longer than you wanted to admit to, and given the little crack of light you saw shine through, you knew you couldn't let this opportunity pass you by.

"What do you mean?"

He looked tired, you realised faintly. It was true... he did stay with you. His face was sunken and caved in, dark purple bags under his eyes, and you traced the tears that brightened his tanhì momentarily, as they caressed his skin, before falling down his neck.

"Tell me it's not true, what you said to him all those years ago. Tell me he didn't hear you right. That he misunderstood."

"Who?"

"My dad. I heard him... telling my grandmother that you'd never want to mate with me. Or be Tsa'hik. He said you said that. Tell me he was wrong. Tell me I was wrong for believing him. Tell me I was an idiot for not coming to you sooner, for shutting you out of my life. For letting this break me. Please."

Shock stilled you in your spot, replacing blood with current that electrified every ounce of your being. What? After all this time, so much time that kids were born and grew up, time in which you watched Tuk go from barely a babe to a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, beautiful girl, time in which you gained and lost your ikran, in which you gained a family and lost the future you thought you were always made for, next to the person you thought you'd always have your back... so much time has passed, and to hear it, the reason, was so unbelievable it didn't feel like it was real. You thought about the conversation that he was referring to, that you had with Jake in what feels like a completely life to the one you were currently living. He did ask you, and you did say...

"He wasn't wrong."

I ripped my heart out and put it in your hands in hopes that we'd put up a fight How paradoxical, since now all I can think about is when will we stop trying

You watched as the intensity on his face was decimated in an instant, his eyes blank and distant as all life seemed to drain from them as you spoke words that you spat without truly even thinking about it. Oare's death, still so fresh in your mind, hurt so much, made every fibre of your being scream in agony, and this new revelation, of the reason of her death being attributed to something you said as a little kid in passing, that he overheard and never bothered to fact-check, made what little sanity you had left to evaporate and what remained was a bitter precipitate of fury and pain, that you wanted him to feel, that you needed to inflict.

"This is why Oare's dead? This is why so many people are dead, because of one comment I made to your father seven years ago in passing? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Your teeth were bared as you spoke, and the emptiness behind his eyes was replaced with furious anger as he listened, as he realised you had no intention of putting his mind or heart at ease, as you realised he didn't deserve it. Not after everything that's happened, not after the way your soul crashed and imploded inside your body at the guilt that ate you alive, that churned and ground your bones into fine dust, guilt that will never, ever leave you.

“I was just a fucking child, don’t you understand that? Do you understand how insane it is to punish me for something that happened when I was just twelve years old?!"

“Well, you know what? I was also just twelve years old! And I loved you, Vi.” The break in his voice hurt you, like a shard of glass plunged in the soft of your skin, and you looked down to try to see if blood was coming out of the wound that wasn't there. There was nothing. Just emptiness, like the vast chasm that separated you, that always will, no matter the fact he was so close to you, you could feel his breath over your face, your scent in your nostrils, his glistening eyes big as planets, eyes you could get lost in easily, you could fall into as easily as falling asleep.

Seeing the unshed tears once more made tears gather in your own. The nickname, that you haven’t heard in all these years, that felt like a relic from a life long forgotten, long forsaken, knocked the air out of you, just as much as his vulnerability, that you weren’t used to seeing anymore did.

“I fucking loved you. You were everything to me. And you broke me.”

“I had to watch you prove me right every day of my life. Watched as you fought every day to push me away from my own family, and my own dad, who obviously always found you better than me. Watched as you moved on, with no issue, and dated Na’vi after Na’vi, letting them touch you and kiss you, knowing I could see it, in practice, where I always was, I- “

“You fucking did the same thing! You pushed me away, you never talked to me. You abandoned me, without as much as a goodbye. Without any explanation. You fucked girls anywhere I could see, behind my tent, so I could hear you. You chose them all so they bore no resemblance to me, so I could know how much you hated me, every time I saw their faces. You ruined my relationship with the one person who loved me, who was good for me. You fu-"

All you do is blindside me, it's hard to be brave But when the night cuts into the day, it's your love I crave I must've thanked my lucky stars too much They left me sitting in too much dust

Your sentence was cut short by a pair of lips crashing into yours, soft and desperate, clinging on to you like his fingers were wrapped tightly around your throat, like if letting go was unimaginable, like it was too painful to envision. In your dreams, Neteyam's lips were bruising and calloused and cold, and no matter how fiercely you wanted to protest, no matter how much you hated yourself for it, they were the only lips you ever dreamt about. And yet right now, they were nothing like you imagined, nothing like you feared, and despite the hurt, and the pain and the anguish and the anger, despite it all, you couldn't help reciprocating, couldn't help the moan the left you as his other hand found your hips, holding you impossibly closer, while your own hands found the back of his neck and his hair, that you tugged on until he growled. When he broke the kiss and looked at you, hunger and ache clear in his bright eyes, that looked more black than yellow as his hand found your jaw, that he lifted to tilt your head back, pushing his thumb past your lips so you'd keep quiet, you let out a small whimper, and watched as his pupils dilated even more, almost overtaking his beautiful, molten irises.

"Just...Stop talking."

His lips found the place on your jaw where his fingers just were, and the feeling of him on you burned like molten lava, and you push your head back, giving him access to all of you. Your mind felt numb - a battle within itself as it was trying to come to terms with all the crushing emotions that were fighting for dominion over your thoughts and your soul, each one more devastating than the last - from the guilt that you knew would plague you for the rest of your life, that you didn’t think you’d ever be able to overcome, to the grief of losing your spirit sister, to confusion over what you were doing, over wondering if this was a mistake, to the sadness at Neteyam’s confession and the knowledge he loved you, and you pushed him away without meaning to, to earth-shattering anger at the realisation that this whole ordeal started over nothing and could have been solved if he only ever talked to you and finally, to the hatred that still blossomed, even after all this time, and finally, the desire, pure, unadulterated desire to have him, to be owned, to know what it feels like to be wholly his. You didn’t know which one would win, but you could only hope there’ll still be something left of you when the battle found its victor in the midst of all the chaos.

He was rough as he pushed you until you tipped backwards, but his caress was gentle as he caught you and made sure you weren't hurt as your body hit the damp, soft grass. When he spread your legs and kneeled in between them, you knew you whatever ounce of self-restraint you had was swiftly thrown out the window, and you knew the relief you'd get to feel once he was done with you would be worth the regret in the morning - at least, it felt so right now. His fingers dug into your thighs as they massaged upwards, from your shins to your hips, and when both his thumbs caressed the sensitive spot at the edge of your loincloth, your breath hitched in your throat, silently begging him for more, hoping he wouldn't make you say words out loud you could never take back.

As if he could hear your thoughts, he spoke, his hands stilling on the knot of your tewng.

"Tell me you want this. I need to know you want this, or I stop."

You hissed at him, conflicted beyond words and reason, because no, of course you didn't. But yes, you did. Of course you did.

"I hate you. I fucking hate you, Neteyam."

At your words, his hands dropped from your hips and in an instant, he was on top of you, his gaze stopping the breath in your lungs as he looked at you, his hand gripping your throat once more, the aggressive gesture at odds with the softness in his eyes and the way he was caressing your jaw in barely-there touches with his thumb.

"I hate you more. So much more. I still need an answer, yawne."

You stared daggers at him, and refused to talk, but as you wrapped your fingers around his cummerbund and pulled him in, until his lips met yours in a messy kiss of teeth and tongues, throbbing deep in you at the way he moaned in your mouth, you knew words were meaningless, and words couldn't convey the feelings that tormented you, anyway. You reached for his tewng and masterfully unwrapped it, feeling his cock spring free and slap against your abdomen, and the weight of it made you gasp, a smirk erupting from his face in response.

You needed him. You needed him to numb the pain the he created, that you created, you needed the emptiness that came from being filled to the brim, the fleeting peace that would come with the high that you knew he could provide, because it hurt. It all hurt, and you couldn't stand it. You reached your hand and wrapped your fingers around his length, your slick leaving a wet patch in the fabric, that was increasing in size by the second, just at the thought of how he'd feel stretching you out. He let out a small groan at the way you were caressing him, running your thumb over the slit, smearing the precum that was leaking, that you felt a sudden urge to taste.

"F-fuck!"

"Take off my tewng, Neteyam."

"For once in your life, you will not get to dictate how this goes."

Despite his words, he listened, and you winced at the weight of his body being lifted off you, instantly missing the contact and comfort it provided. But he wasn't gone long, as he removed your clothes, and you tried not too think of how good his gaze felt on you, how empowering the desire in his eyes as he took you in, how he had to lick his lips and swallow audibly, as if he was a starved man in a desert, and you were his fata morgana.

He took no time in attaching himself to you again, the thick head of his cock prodding at your entrance, and the velvety feel of him against your folds involuntarily makes you shut your eyes closed and your head push back, need heightening at the way he starts licking and sucking at your breast, leaving purple marks in the wake of his lips and tongue, that you want on every inch of you, that you wanted to cum on as he made your knees buckle and your vision spot.

His face finds a home in the crook of your neck as he slides inside you, taking his time to feel you, every inch of your walls, as they stretched to accommodate for his size, and it feels so good, too good, his cock in you, his tail around your thigh, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin, or gripping at your waist, his breath on your neck, his teeth sinking in you so he could stop himself from telling you all the confessions bubbling in his chest, all the ways it's all making sense to him now, that he's never hated you, he's just hated not having you, not being able to call you his. Still, as he bottoms out in you, he can't help some of them from spilling out, the dam of his heart slowly coming apart at the seams.

"It had to be someone who had no resemblance to you. It had to, Vi. Don't you understand? Because any time I looked at anyone, I saw you in them. Their eyes, or lips, their tanhì or stripes, even the smallest similarity killed me, reminded me how much I hate you, how much I want to, how much I don't. I've wanted to hate you so much, I tried so hard, but you were in every dream, in every fantasy, you haunted me my whole life."

You did understand. You understood too well. That's why you chose O'i'en. Because he was nothing like the Neteyam you came to know in the years you became an adult. Because his touch was warm and made you feel nothing. Because his eyes bore no resemblance to his, the glimmer of amber nothing like the green flickers that felt like were Eywa's inspiration for the forest that surrounded you; O'i'en's tanhì were scattered like light through the leaves and branches of the trees, unlike Neteyam's, which were like the star dust that created all life in the Universe, that shone brighter than any light post, that shone so brightly, they led you home every night when you were young.

The tears gathered in your eyes as he started a steady pace of his hips, conflicting feelings tugging at the string of your already broken and torn apart heart, whose heart beats felt dragging and echoing, different to the two sounds you were used to, instead pulsating three syllables throughout your whole body, enveloping you and taking over your mind, forcing you to come to terms with issues you thought you buried so deeply, you'd never have to see again.

I hate you. I love you. I hate you. I love you. I hate you, I hate you....

I love you.

"Neteyam..."

"I know. You're doing so well for me. So well. Fuck, you feel so, so good."

You moan at his words, the desire bubbling inside of you quickly reaching heights you wouldn't mind falling from, being pushed from, so you could feel the euphoria that came along with falling, without having to worry about the inevitable crash that would follow, at least not right now.

"I can feel you squeezing me. Come for me, yawne. I need to feel you come all over my cock."

For the first time since he's called you that, the term of endearment didn't feel ironic or facetious, and for once in your life, you had no problem obeying his orders - when you came, you came violently, legs shaking and back arched, whimpers and moans pushing past your lips unrestrained, and the sounds made his cock twitch inside of you, his own orgasm so close he could taste it. He lets you ride your high fully before pulling out of you, thick ropes of iridescent cum painting your abdomen and chest, that, in your fucked out mind, you almost wish painted your still-throbbing walls instead.

You know all my dreams, you were one, so it seemed And I love you but with you, it's heartache I breathe You gave it your all, just with everything you took from me

It was almost... domestic, the way he was asleep peacefully next to you, his breath so steady and deep, and so relaxed, it almost sounded like purring, his strong, muscular arms holding you close as you lay on your back, looking at the stars, bright, blurry orbs through the distorted lens of your tears, that couldn't stop falling, no matter how much you willed them away. The crash did come eventually, in the few hours since, and it felt like it broke all your bones in the process.

"You and me, we're meant to rise and fall together."

Those words, that became the overarching theme of your relationship, words that you never realised when you spoke them as a child that you would both take so literally, rang in your ears like a broken record your mind could no longer turn off. You were right, all those years ago. Even back then, you knew. You and Neteyam did rise together. From children to adults, from pupils to teachers, from toy soldiers to hardened warriors, rose you did, until you were so high up, the air was thin and suffocating. But nothing compared to your penchant for falling. You fell hard, from grace, from cloud nine, for the other's other schemes and plots, for your own compulsions, obsessions and greedy desires, and mostly, for each other. Your relationship was fire and ice, it was everything and nothing all at once, a war you fought and a war you lost, a war in which innocents had to die and lives were lost, a war you were finally tired of.

You and Neteyam rose and fell together, over and over again, your whole lives. A twisted carousel that wouldn't stop until one of you jumped off it, and with Oare's death, and the shame that followed it, you finally realised it had to be you.

In the early hours of the morning, after a quick wash in the cold lake, you found your way back to the village and straight to the Tsa'hik's tent. You were happy to see her, and nervous to talk, but you knew the quicker you got it out, the quicker it would be over. So with a deep breath, you spoke your piece, and hoped she'd listen.

“Ma Tsa’hik. I’m here to ask you to let me out of this arrangement. Please. I can’t do this, not with Neteyam. I’m done.”

Oh, my love Is this the end for us? Maybe we've had enough

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia @afro-hispwriter @soleilmoon @crazy4books1 @bakugouswaif@randxmthxughts @xreadersstuff @sirezaya @kimberlyshailany-blog @gyuventure @jujudsmyst @kikookii @nxptury @nonniesworld @koing-slvt @bakugouswaif @isnt-itstrange @tpwkforevermore @alahamums @tallulah477 @gknj9495@aquamarine001 @itssomeonereading @yumimak@sweetbread-m@eqgroil @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @juneonhoth @yagirlheree @jackiehollanderr @legendarynoodlebowl @iameatingmyhair @justasimps-blog@hannabanana-09 @xylianasblog @misscaller06 @yeosxxx @myh3artttt @teyamsbitch@musicownsme @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @zoetrope1997 @itsmy-alteregohere @ntymavtr @curlszx88 @maki-z @riatesullironalite @baahsaama @luna-salem @teyamtesuli @koing-slvt @call-me-doll-face @puresirius-things @saturniac @call-me-doll-face @dreaming-of-the-reality @whorefortim

(sorry if i missed anyone this list is getting so longgg)

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racinggirl · 1 year

Text

no more secrets || max verstappen 1

words: 0.9k (finally a drabble under 1k words lol) I just want to thank you all once again for the requests! It means a lot to me! I hope you all like this cute drabble for Max. I know it took quite a while, but lately hasn't been the best time for me mentally. Also, I'm thinking of starting an actual series, like a bigger story with multiple episodes. Let me know what you think of the idea, I already have a small plot in my head :)

My 700 drabbles requests are closed, however, you can still send in regular requests through my askbox

The man that has secured his second world championship. The man that won 15 races this season. The man that will get another trophy at this year’s FIA gala. And the man that stole your heart from day one.

You and Max had been together for almost a year now, you started dating right at the beginning of 2021, after being friends with his sister for 3 years. You were always supportive of him, cheering him on, basically being one of his friends as well. However, you did not expect it to become more than just friends, because neither of you ever showered interest in each other.

Abu Dhabi, 2021. It was one of the most intense races you or anyone in the Red Bull garage had ever seen. You were invited by Victoria, Max’ sister, because the two of you always got along great. You were holding each other’s hands as you watched the safety car enter the pitlane. Your heartbeat was going through the roof the moment Lewis sped up, Max going behind him like a lion going after his prey.

‘’He won! He, fucking, won!’’ You had your arms wrapped around Victoria’s neck, hugging her tightly as she jumped up and down, making you join her jumping. He won, and you couldn’t be prouder.

During the party you and Victoria were talking, and drinking, the latter being the reason for your actions later that evening as the two of you made the perfect plan to scare Max, in his hotel room. However, Victoria bailed on you as she went to her own hotel room instead, leaving you alone in Max’ room.

That evening resulted in you and Max making out, the both of you being absolutely wasted, and the next morning you discussed the things that happened, for as far as you could remember. The two sides of the stories of the things that you did know from last night creating the entire, completed story. You complemented each other.

Aside from your families and friends, nobody knew about your relationship, and that was something you’d like to keep that way. Not because Max wasn’t proud of you being on his side, no, the secret part of your relationship actually came from your side, since you weren’t ready to be in the public eye, yet. And Max respected that more than anything.

Whenever you went out, you remained his ‘friend’. But whenever you were out of the public eye, you were the cheesiest couple one could ever see. Holding hands, heated make out sessions or cuddles whenever you were with your friends or family were just a few of the many things you did.

You made up for the moments you weren’t affectionate in public was Max’ excuse whenever your friends told you to get a room. And you couldn’t agree with him more. The moments you were together with your friends or family were rare, especially with him being in the public eye almost 24/7. So, the moments you were able to hold hands, kiss, or be close to each other, you took. It made your relationship even more precious, because you always kind of stayed in that ‘first phase’ moment.

Now, weeks later, you were watching him get ready for his FIA gala. You had joined him, because what better city to be in with your loved one than Paris. You were walking towards your suitcase, the beautiful black sparkly dress with the open back appearing out of it.

Max looked at you through the mirror, a frown on his face as he tried to fix his bow. ‘’That’s a beautiful dress, lieverd.’’ He spoke. ‘’But why did you pack it?’’ darling

You simply smiled at your boyfriend before making your way over to him. He turned around, looking down at you as you fixed his bow for him. Your silence spoke louder than words, as it made him think twice.

‘’Are you joining me?’’ He asked with the widest smile the man could possibly give. You giggled, looking up into his eyes as you bit your lip slightly. As you nodded, Max laughed from happiness, picking you up which made you laugh as well.

‘’Max! put me down silly.’’ You giggled. ‘’I need to get dressed.’’

And that’s how your secret relationship turned out to be not so secret anymore. The two of you were the hot topic the moment the two of you walked on the red carpet, photographers taking millions of pictures of the ‘new’ couple.

Max also thanked you in his speech, a speech he had prepared and only hoped to bring out to the world rather sooner than later. And he got to do it, the smile on his face whenever he spoke about you could be seen from miles away.

The cherry on the pie came when, after his speech, he joined you back in the audience. As all eyes were on you, he simply did the one thing that confirmed it all. His lips pressed on yours for a single second, the both of you smiling as a bunch of lovesick teens.

‘’I love you, so much, and I can’t wait to show the world how lucky I am to have you on my side.’’

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copias-girl · 1 year

Text

To Catch a Cardinal: Chapter I

A/N: Cardi is 100% a virgin in this 😌🖤 Get ready for some slow burn and merciless teasing 😈

Song recommendation for this series!

Chapter II

•♥︎𖤐♥︎•

“He looks just like a rat!” Sister Mable snickered, causing the other sisters of sin to burst out laughing.

“And he scurries around like one too!” Sister Ava added.

“You know, I heard he keeps rats. As, like, pets.” Sister Lilith whispered with a shudder, nearly horrified by the mere thought.

“Ugh. He’s such a weirdo, I can already tell. I hope he doesn’t try to strike up a conversation with me.” Sister Emily scoffed.

“Have you even seen how painfully shy he is? I don’t think he would even know how!” Sister Lilith retorted, causing the group to burst out laughing.

You heard their conversation as you came strolling by, carrying some Latin translations that Secondo had requested. You also had a pack of little Mix Max cakes that you were going to bring to Primo, Secondo, and Terzo. And maybe even one for Nihil too, as you knew how much he liked sweets.

The truth was, you were everyone’s darling. The Papas absolutely loved you. Primo allowed you the privilege of helping him tend to his precious garden, Secondo’s hard scowl softened considerably when he looked at you, and Terzo just couldn’t stop himself from constantly flirting with you, much to the annoyance of many of the other sisters of sin. Even the ghouls loved you; Terzo often having to shout at them to prevent you from getting dogpiled. It was no secret that everyone regarded you as the prettiest and most lovely sister in the whole ministry.

“Who are you talking about?” You enquired curiously, slowing your pace.

“Oh, hi Sister!” Sister Ava greeted you.

“We were just talking about that new Cardinal. He’s so strange! Have you seen him?” Sister Mable chuckled, clearly wanting you to engage in their judgemental banter.

“No, not yet, didn’t he just arrive yesterday? I’ve been busy running errands for the Papas.” You replied, gesturing to the things in your arms.

“Are those cakes part of your errands?” Sister Lilith asked with a playful little smirk.

You smiled, shaking your head. “No, just a little something for our dear Papas. They always seem to enjoy it when I bring them treats.” You responded cheerfully.

“I think what they enjoy is you always visiting them in their offices.” Sister Ava chuckled, and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a grin.

“Well,” You started to leave, “I better get these Latin translations to Secondo, you know how he doesn’t like to wait a long ti-”

And that’s when you saw him. Him.

He was an odd man, currently stuttering out a heavy-accented apology for bumping into someone, the stack of papers he was carrying now scattered onto the floor, some sheets of paper still in midair as they floated down.

“Ah, shit..” He mumbled to himself with that cute little accent, kneeling down and scrambling to gather his things. The guy he had bumped into ditched, quickly turning a corner and walking out of sight, leaving the Cardinal to pick up the mess by himself.

The group of sisters erupted into laughter, not even caring that the Cardinal could hear.

“Couldn’t they have gotten anyone better? Seems like they’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel with this choice.” Sister Emily snorted a little too loud, right within earshot of the Cardinal.

Casting an annoyed glance at Emily, you made your way over to the man, much to the surprise of the group of sisters.

You knelt down beside him, beginning to gather some papers together, but the poor Cardinal didn’t even notice you. He looked utterly humiliated, brows furrowed and biting his lip as he inwardly scolded himself for being so clumsy and making a bad first impression.

That’s when you both reached for the same piece of paper, his gloved hand meeting yours. Immediately, his head shot up, eyes widening when he saw you. Oh, Satanas, you. You were a vision, a dream- no, better than a dream. His stupid mind couldn’t dream up something as beautiful as you if he tried his hardest.

With lips parted and cheeks flushed red, the Cardinal stammered out a quiet, “H-hello… Eh.. How do you do?”

You couldn’t help but smile. He was so pitiful and oddly cute, you felt like giving him a hug. Maybe you should? Maybe you would, you know, as a gesture to welcome him to the ministry.

“I’m doing quite good, thank you, Cardinal…?” You trailed off. You had heard his name in anticipation of his arrival, but it was escaping you at the moment.

“Eh? Oh! Copia. I am Cardinal Copia.” He replied, straightening his biretta. “And.. and you are?”

You gave him your name, still with that sweet smile on your face as you studied him. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Il piacere è mio.” Copia murmured.

You decided against the hug. You wouldn’t want to give the poor man a heart attack, now would you? Instead, you opted to place your other hand on top of his, which was still frozen in place touching yours as you had both reached for the same paper. You noticed how he flinched at that, his blush deepening as his wide mismatched eyes gazed into yours.

“Welcome to the abbey, Cardinal Copia.” You said softly. Your voice was like music to his ears.

“Grazie, you too- Ehh, well, I mean-” Copia stammered nervously. Fuck, he could kick himself; he was really blowing this. You must have thought he was a complete idiot, how embarrassing…

“I know what you mean, don’t worry.” You giggled, slightly putting the poor Cardinal’s nerves at ease. “Here, let me help you pick all this up.” You said, beginning to gather the scattered pages once more.

Copia nodded, doing the same, but it didn’t escape you how he stole little glances at you from time to time. He couldn’t help it, you were just so captivating. He’d never seen someone like you before. You simply glowed, you were captivating with your sweet voice, that gorgeous smile, those glimmering eyes, the front locks of your lush hair sticking out of your habit. You were so glamorous, and everything about you was just perfect.

And you couldn’t help but steal your own glances at Copia, catching him fixating his gaze on your glossy lips. A small smirk found its way onto your face, wondering if he was imagining kissing you, or if he was too shy for even thinking about that.

Finally standing up and securing everything in his arms, you opened the pack of cakes and placed one on top of his stack of papers.

“Eh? What’s that for?” The Cardinal asked.

“Just a little treat for you!” You shrugged with a smile.

“Grazie, I.. I love Mix Max..” He let out a sheepish chuckle, and you made a mental note of that so you would remember to stop by his office all the time and bring him some.

“You know, if you ever need any help in your office, or if you need anything brought to you, I’d be more than happy to.” You offered, mindlessly toying with the hem of your dress.

“Si… Perhaps I will take you up on that, Sorella.” Copia nodded. “Grazie così tanto per questo.” He pointed with his nose to the stack of papers in his arms.

“Di niente, Cardinale.” You smiled, holding in a giggle as you watched him awkwardly nod and scurry away, his black cassock swaying with every step.

The group of sisters were absolutely astonished, all staring with wide eyes and jaws dropped. They didn’t exactly know what had just transpired, all looking amongst themselves once you sauntered down the hall and out of sight.

“Did you see the way he was looking at her?!” Mable scoffed, breaking the silence.

“Well can you blame him? She’s so gorgeous.” Ava pointed out, to which Emily rolled her eyes. Emily was always was jealous of you.

“And she’s so kind too! Just watch that weirdo take it the wrong way, though. He’ll probably think she likes him!” Lilith chimed in, earning sounds of agreement and outrage from the other girls.

•𖤐•

The corners of your lips were quirked upwards into a little smirk, eyes shining and hips swaying as you made your way towards Secondo’s office, a little pep in your step. This new Cardinal seemed… fun. And you decided, then, that you wanted him. You really wanted him, with his cute little moustache and his pointy nose and his slightly greying hair. But you also decided that you’d be taking the scenic route; the long way around to get to your final destination which was his bedroom. Poor thing, he didn’t even know what he was in for.

And as you strolled down the halls of the ministry, deep in thought, you supposed that the sisters were right; Copia did kind of look like a rat.

But what a coincidence. You loved rats.

𖤐to be continued𖤐

Taglist: @sucharide @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @rightintheghoulies @copiaswifey @youhaveahomeinmyheart @mister-girl @faeeeeh @rubyserpentine

#my writing #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x reader smut #cardinal copia #copia #copia x reader smut #copia x reader #papa iv x reader #papa iv x reader smut #the band ghost fic #ghost band x reader #ghost band fic #the band ghost #papa emeritus iv x reader smut #papa emeritus iv#ghost bc fic #ghost bc #ghost band

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pdione11 · 1 year

Text

Jenna Ortega Dating Hcs

Jenna Ortega x GN!Reader

She will likely take you with her to the set every time

To the point where you've befriended everyone in the cast, including the director

If you are a fan of horror movies, you'll probably watch something like The Conjuring, Annabelle, and Slender Man on one of your movie nights

If not then, you just spend most of your time hiding your face in the crook of her neck if she chose a horror movie

If you are taller than her, she'll probably take advantage of it, asking you to hand something to her on a higher shelf she can't reach.

Omg, the height difference is so cute

If you are shorter than her, let's say between 4'8 and 4'11. Prepare yourself 'cause she'll tease you to no end, even making you her very own armrest.

But she will fight anyone who ridicules you for your height (no one can mess with your height but her)

She'll miss you every time your not with her, especially when they're filming in another country.

She will text you every time she's free, sending you pictures and texts of what she's doing, what's she's eating etc.

Will get jealous if someone's flirting with you

She knows you're not flirting back because you barely even know that they're flirting with you. (you're that oblivious)

She will come up to you, hugging your arm, calling you by one of her pet names like baby, babe, darling, or Y/n/n. (The person quickly realizes and leaves without a word.)

If the two of you ever fought, someone will (mainly you, even if you're not the one at fault) apologize the day after. Jenna will feel guilty, (cause you always looked like a kicked puppy when you apologize) especially when she knows she's the one at fault, and yet you're here saying sorry anyway.

She'll pepper your face with kisses, saying sorries and I love you's.

Will constantly reassure you that they wouldn't leave you for anyone else, that your not annoying or a burden cause she knows how insecure you can be

She will cling to you like a koala sometimes, only letting you go if you had to go to the bathroom.

She hates to see you cry :(

She will absolutely do anything to make you stop crying. Like rubbing your back, peppering your face with kisses, wiping your tears, hugging you till you calm down, making you something to eat, or ordering your favorite food. Anything to make you stop crying cause it breaks her heart so much.

Dates every weekend, man. It's traditional by now.

She had to buy a new phone cause her old one is now full of storage. It has thousands of pictures of you and the two of you together btw.

The two of you had a shared playlist on Spotify for different occasions.

You'll sometimes go with her to another country if their filming is there, trying new foods with her.

She'll buy you everything you want. Oh, you want a new iPhone 14 Pro Max? Consider it done baby. You want that watch? She's already at the counter, buying them for you.

You're her precious and sweet darling, how could she not spoil you?

Sometimes, you'll tilt your head to the side resembling a puppy, and she can't help but hug you.

She doesn't care if the two of you are seen in public cause she wants the world to know she's dating the most amazing person in the world.

She thinks of marrying you one day and maybe starting a family of your own

Bonus:

If you search for any photo of the couple on social media, you will find them looking into each other's eyes lovingly.

I'm a huge simp when it comes to Jenna Ortega and this is my first time writing something like this...

I hope you enjoy this hcs tho

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #headcanons #fanfic #don't copy #pdione11

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sengardet · 2 months

Text

Assassin's Encounter (Part 2)

Continued from:

Sophie's eyes fluttered open slowly, squinting against the harsh fluorescent lights shining down on her from the sterile white ceiling. As her vision came into focus, her heart started racing with panic, the frantic beeping of the ECG monitor filling the small windowless room. She tried to sit up but found her wrists and ankles bound tightly to the cold metal exam table.

The door clicked open, and Terra walked in, her slender dark fingers trailing along Sophie's pale thigh.

"Hello, my darling, welcome to the basement. like it?" Terra said softly, her full lips curling into a seductive smile.

Sophie swallowed hard. "What...what are you going to do to me?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"Shhh, don't be frightened," Terra said, circling a finger around Sophie's chest. "You see, I'm doing some… let’s say, flash course… medical training and I need a subject for practice. those stupid plastic torsos won’t do." Her hand slid higher, fingers curling around Sophie's delicate throat. "And you, my cute little assassin, are the perfect specimen for me to work on."

Sophie's pulse raced under Terra's grip, delighting the madwoman.

Terra pulled the crash cart closer, its wheels rattling on the tile floor. She reluctantly released the woman's neck to flip the defibrillator on with the beep and hum of charging capacitors. Sophie squirmed against her restraints, blonde hair splayed across the table, her lithe anatomy naked and exposed in a pathetic display.

"How long do you plan on keeping me like this!?" Sophie panted; blue eyes wide and terrified.

Terra ignored the question, focused on her task. She unscrewed the cap on a bottle of conductive gel with a soft pop. Tilting the container, she squeezed a generous dollop of translucent blue goo onto the pale curves of Sophie's heaving chest.

The assassin's breath caught at the cold sensation. Goosebumps rippled across her skin. Terra pressed the paddles to the top right and left side of Sophie's chest, framing her heart, massaging the slick gel over Sophie in firm circular motions.

"I've got you now," she murmured, speaking to the quivering cornered organ pounding between the flat metal pads.

A jolt of electricity surged through Sophie's pale body, causing it to stiffen and arch off the table. Heaving gasps filled her buzzing chest as her heart raced erratically. Terra's dark fingers adjusted the defibrillator, readying another shock.

“Wait! Wait!” Sophie screamed, back bowing as the current seared through her. The frenzied beeping of the heart monitor filled the room as a dull ache and unsteady throbbing replaced the feeling of her pulse.

Terra watched the erratic peaks on the EKG, biting her lip in anticipation. Almost there. Sophie could only take so much, and the precious thing was putting up a fight. More. She needed more. She pushed the machine to the max.

Another shock. Sophie convulsed, jaw clenching, tendons straining in her elegant neck. The erratic beeping grew more frantic, fighting against the inevitable. Sophie’s labored breaths the only steady thing going on in her body. Her pitiful eyes searching for an end.

Then finally one more shock and… success. The rapid beeps merged into one continuous tone as Sophie's tortured heart seized and fell still. Her body went limp as her consciousness slowly faded without a heartbeat. Terra grinned in triumph - she'd pushed Sophie right to the very edge. Now to train on the best canvas money can’t buy, a still heart in need.

Setting aside the defibrillator paddles by the syringes of adrenaline and atropine, Terra began chest compressions, ready to restart Sophie's helpless little heart.

The game was only just beginning. Its ending dictated by Terra’s cruelty or compassion, but one thing was for certain…

Regardless of what won out, Terra’s twisted adoration, her possessiveness over the hapless delicate little creature beneath her would ensure neither outcome lead to freedom or finality any time soon.

#dark cardiophilia #defib #defib on beating heart #resus toy #f/f

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laura1633 · 2 months

Note

Hello darling, first I want to say your writing is amazing and I enjoy immensely your brilliant works 🥰

If you accept prompts and this one sparks your interest I was thinking sub!Max having had previous abusive dom/doms and Charles showing our baby what it means to be treated properly

Thank you so much 🥰 I love this idea!

Sorry this took a while but this is going to be at least a two parter. I wrote the first chapter and have been staring at it I think for a couple weeks trying to decide whether I should post it or delete it and re-write it completely 😂 but I am going to roll with it as I think it can work!

Here is chapter one - Precious things are breakable in the wrong hands.

Please read the tags and warnings on this one before reading everyone xx

#anon asks #Lestappen fanfiction #Lestappen

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baddiewiththebook · 2 years

Text

‘Little’ Hopper - Part 2

-> You meet Eddie at the police station your father works at. His reputation makes you worry. Soon, however, you find yourself in an entangled web of love and lust. Now, all you have to do is convince your father that Eddie isn't a bad guy.

-> Eddie Munson x Hopper!Reader (she/her)

-> secret romance, slow burn, smut [+18]

-> warnings: explicit content (no minors)

< next part >

-> <-

Nerves shock your body like the speed bumps in the road. Gripping your steering wheel tight, you’re ready as the smoothly paved road turns to dust and gravel. Rocks slap against the tires and the metal of your car. Hopefully there isn’t enough dust that you’ll have to scrub your car clean, before you go home. Rule one: never leave evidence behind.

There should be a step before rule one. You ponder the thought inching closer to the last trailer in the park. Like, rule zero could be don’t commit a crime. Your chest tightens. But, you’re not committing any crime. Not really. You’re going to help a friend pass a class. Not really that either. Okay, so you’re breaking rule negative one which would be sneaking off while your dad’s at work to meet up with the guy one of his officers arrested yesterday. Wow. That could really use an acronym. You love acronyms.

Talking to yourself kept you from meeting the eyes following you, as you drive less than ten miles per hour in the trailer park. You’re still crippled with guilt. Breaking your dad’s rules isn’t like you. Maybe it was. Oh, you only take a beer from the fridge every once in a while.

An older woman in a yellow sun hat has her eyes on you. She stares at the fresh paint on the wagon you’re towing, and the wheels with caps that she can see your reflection in.

As you draw near, you can pick out lights shining from Max Mayfield’s trailer. She and her mother share the barely livable, after a nasty divorce left her mother broke. You know all of this because she’s close with your sister El. Adopted and about as strange as an alien, El is still overall your adorable little sister with big dreams.

There it is.

A big old sofa sits on a porch decorated in cigarette buds. An ashtray is thrown from its home atop the arm rest to the dirty ground beneath. Burn marks in the cushions. Weather taking hold of the fabric. Was this couch ever inside?

Eddie’s dingy old van is locked out front. Parked sideways to warn off loiterers. You’re parking next to his van anyway, while leaving plenty of room in case he has something smart to spit at you about his precious van. You hear the stories in the halls about how Eddie doesn’t love anyone or anything except his van, and his guitar.

But, you don’t let the rumors deter you. Why? Above all else, his home is just that. A home.

Your feet crunch under the fall leaves. Shutting your car door, you check the lock twice to make sure that it is in fact locked.

A brown sedan zips through the park. Your heart skips. Hot steam billows from the back as the driver slams the breaks. A horn blasts through the neighborhood that deafens anyone near by. You tug at your ear. One more blow to the horn, and Eddie's trailer door slam open with a bang.

Wrinkles in time. An old man grumbles under a thick mustache about timeliness. He checks the watch he’s got strapped to his wrist. A dingy lunch pale swings left and right in his fist. In a split second, food goes flying onto the porch!

“Damn!” He grouches. “Already late! I’m too old for this shit!”

Letting out a groan as he bends at the waist, you rush up the stairs to help him. The metal tin unhooked itself, and has sent his lunch skittering across the front porch. Your hands dart around for each piece of the puzzle as quick as you can.

“Let me,” you restrain judgement. There's a thick sludge he packs in a sandwich sack rather than a thermos. It’s coffee. Bitter beans soak the bag through with their smell.

"Thank you, darling," he's got a sweet, almost southern, charm about him.

Giving the man your name, you tell him then that you're not a stranger. You're here to see Eddie, and you hope you have the right address.

“Oh!” He chuckles. “Eddie didn’t tell me he had a girl tutor.”

Both of you are aware of the implication, so they don't have to be spoken out loud. Still, the redness across your face is caught by the older man and he snorts,

“I’m Wayne,” he outstretches hand. “Eddie’s uncle.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Another honk from the driver of the sedan, and the front passanger side door squeaks while it rolls down. Someone a few years younger than Wayne sits in the drivers seat. One of his hands is on the wheel, and the other is blocking the sun from his eyes. He squints at you and at Wayne.

"You coming old timer?!" His snaggle tooth catches the sun.

"You'll be my age soon!"

The man in the car howls with laughter. You can only assume this isn't the first time they've had this conversation. No doubt the man driving is Wayne's coworker.

"I should go," Wayne directs to you. "They don't pay me to stand around."

Wayne mutters something about not being paid enough to work either. But, he tries not to let you hear that because that’s not really your problem.

“Eddie’s inside,” he tells you. “I’ll be seeing you around. I hope.”

‘I hope’ floats in the air. What a nice old man. You want to ask Eddie why he hasn’t told his uncle that you’ll be coming to the trailer. But, that’s not really what Wayne had in mind. You’re a girl.

Puttering on the steps by yourself, you're left to your own thoughts. Worried or not, you're here. Should you knock before entering? Wayne's left the door ajar. By accident?

You knock thrice gently, before letting yourself into the trailer. Step by step, you’re now surrounded by him. Everywhere you look, the apartment is a shrine to Eddie Munson.

You don’t mean to be nosey, but there was so much stuff stacked on top of coffee tables and side stables. It’s a display. Naturally, your eyes follow a pattern across surface after surface. An ashtray that matches the one outside has the last smoked cigarette still simmering down sat on top of a side table with the leg taped back on. There’s a tv showing nothing, but static. Pictures on the walls cover Eddie’s life story. As a baby, Eddie had the fattest cheeks. A wide grin fills his face with joyous hopeful eyes. His uncle with a wide and a proud grin on his face, held the baby close to him while the baby yanked on his hair.

Some of Eddie’s old accomplishments litter the wall. There was an ‘Independent Reader’ award from elementary school, followed by ‘Most Improved’ in a subject that was smudged off because someone spilt coffee across the page. They must have framed it after that.

“Hey.”

All the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Goosebumps trail your skin. You spin around.

Eddie looms in the shadows like a statue out of place in his own hall of fame. But, stripped of his leather and jeans, so does his confidence fall to the ground. He's a bit silly in plaid pajama bottoms. There shouldn't be a hole in the knee of the fabric, but there is. You wonder if the scar just under his knee cap has anything to do with the hole, but you swallow your question to spin with the dancing in your chest.

The sharp and edgy man that carries himself with an untouchable attitude through the halls of Hawkins High School is nothing more than an average man. Not that Eddie is average. You've never seen an average man with the head of hair he's got clinging to his bare shoulders.

Eddie twists the tank top away from his chest. A blazing heat bubbles inside of him aching to escape. Normally, something as materialistic and simplistic as clothes go unnoticed by him. But, the way your skin peaks from the blouse you're wearing has Eddie challenged in a new way.

Eddie's not good with women. Especially, really pretty women. Acting suave is in his nature because there's usually an audience to go with it. He's only bouncing off of what everyone else has to say.

But, you're giving him the same bewildered look he's probably got slapped on his face.

“Hi,” your voice hits his ear like a soft melody. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to spy on anything.”

Eddie didn't know you would come today. After all the cheerleaders that have blown him off for a drug deal, he can't imagine a woman would come to his trailer. The trailer should have scared you off. Why hadn't it?

“See anything good?” Eddie takes a step closer to see what you've left off with. He hums, and points to the dark stain splattered onto his award. "That's chocolate milk. I thought the award would better serve as a napkin. Wayne nearly had my head."

The heat from his body radiates onto you even through the jacket you've worn. You’ve nearly forgotten what you came here for.

“What was it for?”

Eddie touches his chin with his pointer finger. A click comes from between his lips. Staring closely at the ruined parchment that his uncle insists on keeping, he can make out an ugly little inky stamp.

“That’s Mrs. Johnson’s four leaf clover,” he recalls out loud to you. “She always gave us little stamps to tell us we’re doing a great job. So, I’d say it’s the Advanced Reader award. But, that’s not super impressive. I was eight.”

“That’s awesome, Eddie,” you chime. “You read a lot?”

Stumbling across the words that twist his tongue into an unforgiving knot, you’re already halfway down the hall before Eddie can catch up to you. You’re frozen by another portrait of Eddie and his uncle Wayne. When they say kids age you, Wayne is a prime example. But, beyond the grays sticking from the top of his head and down to the bottom of his chin, every photograph Wayne is chipper than before. Eddie’s his boy.

There are no images of Eddie with his parents, so you’re better off not asking. Still, did he have siblings? Did he get his hair from his mother? Or, is his uncle the only one with the same nose as Eddie?

“Yes,” Eddie says louder than he means too, “I still read.”

“What do you read?” You’re playing with the charm on your necklace. El has the same one.

“Erm,” he slides past you with his back against the wall. “I’ll show you.”

Letting the door swing open at the end of the hall, you’re met with the dreaded boy bedroom. Stacks of junk pile across the four drawer dresser that has a long sleeve shirt dangling by the arm. An attempt to clean by him is kicking and shoving stuff he could have put away months ago.

Eddie’s made sure to put away any nude magazines. He’ll swear up and down that he’s not a perverted sex addict. In fact, he can count the number of times he’s had sex on one hand.

“It’s around here somewhere,” he curses to himself about the mess. “Maid’s out for the week.”

“It’s lived in,” you might as well have called him messy.

“Here,” Eddie’s got a few chapter books in hand. “They’re nothing special.”

Nothing special. One of the smaller texts has to have been read a million times over and over. Every page is yellowing. Wrinkling over time. Those are your favorite books.

“Can I borrow one of them?” You’ve asked. “I’ve never read this one before.”

“It’s kind of nerdy,” he warns.

“I like nerdy,” your stare ignites his flame.

Eddie snorts. “Yeah- yeah, alright.”

“I should have it back to you in a week,” you flip the book open to count pages. “Maybe less.”

“You’re a fast reader!”

“I love books,” you beam. “You’re free to come up with your own characters, and your own settings in your mind. You’re in your own little world.”

“Unlike television.”

“Exactly.”

There’s a pregnant pause between he and you where you’ve both stopped to stare achingly between each other. Keeping a polite smile toying on your plush lips, Eddie holds himself away from bridging the gap and touching yours to his to see if they’re as sweet as he’s imagining. Cherry gloss coats your lips. Or, maybe that would be the perfume you soaked in.

“Erm-,”

Your que to break away from the twang of urges below your belt, before anything sinister happens.

You propose. “What are you planning on writing about for your paper?”

“Huh?” Eddie’s forgotten all about why you’re really here, and that you’re not going to fulfill his imagination. “Oh, right. I’m just going to rewrite the one she gave me from when I was freshman- a real freshman.”

It’s no secret that Eddie’s had to repeat his senior year enough times. He’s tired of the cliques, the fads and the teachers that have given up on him years ago. But, what sprung on him is an opportunity. You’re soaring above the rest of the people in that dammed school. Hell, he caught a glimpse of your valedictorian announcement to your friends at school.

When he landed in cuffs yesterday, and may he just say he was innocent the whole time, the opportunity presented itself to him. There’s no way he’ll pass up being taught by the smartest chick Hawkins has ever seen. Besides that snooty Nancy Wheeler, of course.

The plan was to learn from you, and if you smoke he’ll offer you a bit of overpriced weed for a sweet discount. He didn’t account for your existence to strike him so poetically.

“Is it alright if I sit?”

“Oh, uh - yeah,” Eddie tries not to think about the stains hidden beneath his tawny comforter, or that he could have at least bothered to wash his sheets.

Instead, Eddie sits with you. There’s enough space not to let the electricity shock either of you. But, as you’re taking the paper he’s pulled from the depths of his backpack, you draw near.

You begin by asking, “What did you want to be?”

Eddie's heart thunders. Taking a beat, he bounds to the corner of his room where a massive guitar sits in display. Prick points at four corners. Splashes of red. Was it custom? This thing must have cost a fortune!

Being the one part of his bedroom without mess, you're in awe that an instrument can carry so much value to a person.

Eddie springs about, "The greatest guitar player this planet has ever seen!”

A select few people knew about Corroded Coffin. It just so happened that you passed by one of the band members talking about a gig that was happening for the band last Friday. As much as you were curious, you knew that you could never slide past your dad that late in the evening. He hardly lets you out to go to sleepovers at your friend's house anyway.

"Corroded Coffin, right?" You awe.

Eddie melts. "You've heard of us?"

"I overheard one of your friend's talking about the band," you explain to him. "I wanted to come to your concert last Friday, but my dad's a little strict."

"You've got an interest in the dark side?" Eddie flicks the string of his guitar.

The truth is that his band plays for a crowd of drunks that demand to hear Iron Maiden one too many times. They're going to make a name for themselves, and one day they'll get out of this town. Eddie's already got a folder for his original songs, but he hasn't been bold enough to play any of them at their gigs. Right now they dedicate their time to practice covers of some of their favorite songs. The songs aren't as popular around Hawkins. 'Suppose that's why everyone thinks he's some sort of freak.

It takes everything in Eddie not to crawl on his hands and knees to you. You're nose is touching your brows, while reading the paper he wrote years ago. Eyes darting line from line. Your lashes fan like a butterfly.

Eddie didn't know how lovely you could be. The narc of Hawkins - some called you. You're not as prissy as some people claimed. But, as much as he wants to pull a joint from his stash, he doesn't need you to run to daddy and tell on him. Eddie's not so sure you would now.

"You've got a great idea," you break through the silence. Thumbing across a line in one of the earlier paragraphs, "Erm- this isn't a word. But, I'm sure we could find a synonym."

"Synonym?" Eddie's plopping down next to you.

You define for him. "A word that has the same meaning as this one."

"Oh," he still looks puzzled.

"Come crawling faster, obey your master," you quote the famous Metallica line in their song Master of Puppets. "It's catchy, right? Imagine if the band chose the word quickly. Come crawling quickly, obey your master. That doesn't sound right. Right? By finding a synonym to the word, the lyrics now rhyme. And, the song sounds-"

You've lost your train of thought. Eddie's got an incredulous stare boring into your soul. Have you completely lost him?

Without warning, Eddie's lips attack your own. Rough. Wet. Hot. Blazing fire reaches to the depths of your soul. Yet, your frozen. Unsure if you want to push him away, Eddie's hand reaches around to hold you in place by your head. Then, you melt. Your desire for his heat burns like a match has been lit across your skin. But, God, you never want this to end.

The paper slips away from your grasp. Letting it float to the ground, you fist his t-shirt. Lifting the fabric up over his head, you part for a split moment.

"You know Metallica?" Eddie questions.

You point out the Metallica poster on the wall, "I just thought-"

There's no time to fumble up an answer about how you listen to a lot of different music because Eddie's mouth is once again on yours. Testing the waters his lips leave yours to press heavy set kisses along the side of your neck. Breathing to the heavens, you strain your neck to see the ceiling covered in posters. Peaking out behind the Playmate of the Month is a moldy soaked patch of the wall. Your eyes flutter shut when Eddie's breath hits your collar bone.

"Is this okay?" His hands rest under your breast.

Your fingers find his hair pulling him to attention. Leaning forward to him, you press a kiss to his lips. Softer. Slower. Catching a moan between kisses, Eddie's hands slide up the thick fabric of your shirt. You're sure he can feel your heart pound the way it drums against your ears.

"Eddie," you whisper against his earlobe. "I need you to touch me."

Laying on your back across his bed, Eddie crawls down your body to where your belly peaks out from underneath your shirt. He kisses you there. Your skin is soft like satin.

Undoing the button to your jeans, Eddie can't wait to taste what's hidden beneath the wrapper. Your cotton panties with a little white bow wrapped up like a present just for him. He's got you melting into his sheets, and he hasn't even touched you yet.

Goosebumps trickle against your skin. His hands snake their way around the exposed flesh of your thighs, as your jeans have been thrown and forgotten. The fat of your thighs makes his cock harden in his jeans. He bites at your skin sending shock through your veins. Arching your back, Eddie finds this to be the perfect time to rip you free from your shirt. Taking hold of the snaps in the back of your bra, he's freeing your chest.

You gasp. "Please."

Eddie draws lines around your breast with his tongue with his gaze never leaving yours. Hot fire boils you. You crave him. Desperate for him, you beg once again and now Eddie's laughing. He's got you under him. His lips wrap around your nipple licking the hardened nub. Not forgetting about the other, he travels to the other to make the sensation even.

"You're perfect," he tells you with confidence. "Who's got you all sensitive, hm?"

Blissfully, your eyes roll back as he continues putting pressure along the nerves of your body. Your chin quivers.

"Eddie," you mutter.

"Hm?"

A sudden burst of confidence, and you sit up like a rocket. Clawing at the hem of his shirt, Eddie takes his shirt clean off. While he's occupied, you've made his knees buckle. Your hands reach out for his growing erection outside of the pajama pants. The thin material leaves little too hide. Your mouth waters.

Pulling his pants and his underwear to his thighs, you're fluttering at the thought of him being inside you soon.

"Princess," he nicknames.

You copy just as he does. Eyes on him. Your tongue darts out to touch the tip of his cock. Groaning, Eddie finds himself at your mercy. You've taken hold of the reins. Dragging your wet tongue along the aching shaft, you taste the salt from his slit.

Eddie must have died and gone to heaven. There's no way this perfect little princess is sucking him off in his bed. You're singing to him with the noises dripping from your mouth. Soft melodies hit his eardrum.

To be clear, the plan was not to sleep with you. Using your brain for homework help, yes. But, this? Eddie couldn't bring himself to imagine how sexy you are going down on him.

Sucking him down your throat, tears crowd the corners of your eye. Eddie wipes them with his thumb. His other hand fists your hair tangling it into a thousand knots. You're slobbering, and Eddie shakes.

"Lay back, baby," he doesn't want to finish with you yet.

While you adjust, Eddie's already made purchase with your hot heat in his face. He hasn't yet gotten to taste the sweet juices you've got hidden behind those cotton panties. When he does take them off, he nearly faints at the sight. Your pink pussy is slick and wet for him.

"I need you," you say breathlessly.

Eddie's mouth breathes wordlessly against your clit. You cry. Those noises you're making are so very sweet. Taking a finger, he wets against his tongue, before he dares touch that bundle of nerves awaiting for him.

You jump back, and he chuckles.

"You're so sensitive."

Words fail you, as soon as Eddie's tongue slides across your clit. Desire screams at every nerve ending. You're a puddle underneath him. Thoughts faint from your memory. Pleasure consumes you.

Eddie swallows your clit. Moaning at the glory between your legs. He's got to be inside of you. Taking his time, he slides one finger inside of you. Pumping the digit back and forth, you beg for more. And so, one becomes two.

"Don't stop," your words roll out of your mouth barely audible. "Eddie!"

Your pussy tightens against his fingers. Fighting you from clamping your legs shut, his other hand grasps your fleshy thigh. His fingertips whiten, and he pumps his other hand faster. Your back arches back as you bridge the peak of pleasure.

Slobbering on your cunt, Eddie doesn't let go until your shaking beneath him.

"You good?" He's sitting up with his erection in his hand.

Nodding your head, you have no words anymore.

"Reach over there," he points to the nightstand.

Your trembling hand has Eddie smirking proudly. Putty in his hands. Pulling the condom out from his nightstand, you're sure he's got something in there he shouldn't, but you can't be bothered.

Eddie tears the packet open, and rolls the condom over his pulsing cock. He's got to be inside you. Now.

"Eddie!"

Stretching you open wide for him, he's got you by the thighs again. You've caught his wrists with your hands. Scrunching and hissing at the burn, he's pushing his cock deep within you.

Gummy walls surround his cock. It's a miracle he hasn't shot his load yet.

"You're tight, baby," he coos. "Don't worry, I'll stretch you out."

"Shit," you curse, as he rolls his hips into you.

"God, I love the sounds you make," he's begging now. "Squeeze your legs around me. Good girl."

Your sent over the edge once more. The way he coaxes you to get there, you're in disbelief you've never done this with him before. He already knows the ins and the outs of your pleasure. The way your hips tilt, he's got a grip on them now.

Pumping his cock faster inside of you, he's groaning sinfully - deliciously.

"Cum for me, big boy," you dare.

Eddie's neck snaps up awakening the beast deep in his gut. He pistons his cock deep inside of your belly. You're feeling the ache build inside. Yelling loud enough the neighbors might call the cops, you're begging for more. There's not enough. There's never enough. You're greedy for him.

"Eddie!"

Name slipping from your lips, Eddie's trembling now. Grunting like a wild animal, his hot spirts of cum drench the inside of the condom.

"Holy, shit," he breathes. "You okay?"

You nod weakly. "Mhm."

Taking his softening cock out of you, he smirks at you laying limp in his bed.

"Should we do that paper now?"

You weakly swing your arm his way.

Eddie snickers, "I'm kidding."

-> <-

In another hour, you're waking up because the heat coming from Eddie's arm draped across from you is ruining your nap time. Hot air blows onto your neck while he snores into your ear.

"Eddie," you whisper.

Eddie grunts in his sleep, so you press your finger into his sweaty arm pit and wiggle your finger around a bit. This gets Eddie's eyes to pop open like saucers and he squirms away from you.

"I should get going," you tell him.

Eddie rubs his eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's like seven thirty," you read from his alarm clock. "It's already dark, and my dad will be home in a few hours."

"We have a few hours," he tries to get comfortable again.

You push him. "No, Eddie. I need to go. El can't keep a secret from dad, and my curfew is at eight on school nights."

Eddie lays on top of your chest, "but, we didn't even start on the paper."

"Okay," you run your finger across his curls. "Now, you sound desperate."

"Don't go," he hums into your chest.

There wasn't really a discussion before you fell asleep about what this was. Was there another chance on the horizon? Certainly, by the way he's slowly turning into the little spoon, you think maybe there's something there.

But, this is bad. This will end terribly knowing who your father is.

Still, as you lay with him, the gentler Eddie that you're growing quite fond of is someone you could introduce to your dad. Right?

"Tonight has been really fun, Eddie," you tell him.

"Don't start," he doesn't like the prospects of what she's about to say.

"Eddie," you tap his nose.

At attention now, he rests his chin on your belly stuck between your legs. You're beginning to not want to leave, now.

"I'll call you?" You suggest.

Before pressing his head back into your belly, he agrees with the nod of his head.

"One more round before you go?" He's half joking.

"Eddie!"

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