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nahoney22 · 3 months

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In the Shadows*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Crosshair X AU Princess F!Reader

word count: 8.8k words

prompts:

• “When can I see you again?” / “Do you want to?”

• “I’ll be everything you ever wanted. I’ll do anything you’ve ever desired.”

Having Clone Force 99 protect you felt like an honour; falling for one of them was a curse.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, Smut, Royalty/Princess Trope, AU, First time, virgin reader, Flirty/Explicit Massages, Second Guessing, Cunnilingus, Blowjob, Soft and Rough Sex, P in V Sex, Doggy style, missionary, cowgirl positions Explicit Sexual Content & Language, aftercare, nipple play, Forbidden Love/Relationship, light angst.

Being royalty definitely had its perks. Yet, the things you most wanted in life were often just out of reach. Freedom was one of them. With guards always monitoring you, you were rarely alone. You were surprised that nobody was stationed in your bed chamber when you slept but you were grateful for the latter.

Oh, and there was also the constant threat to your life. A downside that came with the crown.

So that means that every week, your family contacted the Grand Army of the Republic to hire a battalion of soldiers to test their skills. A group would stay and, as you put it, ‘babysit’ you. This week was no different.

You sat outside in the expansive gardens, a sanctuary of serenity and the only time you felt a small sense of freedom. Vibrant flowers of every hue bloomed in meticulous arrangements by the hired garden hands. Tall hedges formed intricate mazes which had been around since you were young, and a grand fountain with crystal-clear water added a soothing soundtrack to the peace.

As you basked outside alone in your thoughts, you noticed four tall, armoured soldiers approaching. You squinted against the sun, using your hand to shield your eyes. “I thought they said they were clones…” you murmured to yourself.

And they were. Just different.

There was Hunter, the leader. He spoke directly but had a kindness in his eyes that set you at ease. Wrecker was tall and intimidating at first glance, but his loud voice was tempered by his kind heart and Tech intrigued you with his constant stream of information.

Then there was Crosshair.

He was different.

Every time you looked his way (to which you had even caught yourself watching and almost being enamoured by him on several occasions), you noticed several things. One of them being that he moved with a lethal grace. His eyes are always scanning, calculating; never certain what is on his mind. His presence was both unsettling and somehow captivating even if his company was less than comforting at times.

However every time Crosshair’s eyes had met yours for a brief moment, his gaze was intense. As if he could see through the layers of your royal facade. It was a look that made you feel exposed and protected all at once. A paradox you couldn’t quite understand. Did he know you were lonely? Was he lonely?

Throughout the week, each clone took a shift to watch over you. You were surprised to see that most of them enjoyed striking up conversations, which made the constant supervision more tolerable.

All except for Crosshair.

Despite his silence, Crosshair was the one you always looked forward to being alone with. His shift came in the evenings, just after Wrecker’s. Most evenings, you spent your time in the library, surrounded by towering bookshelves filled with ancient tomes about your family’s history. The room was a haven of knowledge, illuminated by the soft, golden glow of ornate lamps. The scent of old flimsi and polished wood filled the air, a comforting presence in your otherwise restrictive life. It was definitely your favourite room within your home.

As you sat on a deep emerald couch, nestled in the corner by the large window that overlooked the gardens, you often stole glances at Crosshair. He stood in the shadows, his posture rigid, eyes constantly scanning the room like a suited knight in armour. And each time you looked at him, his piercing gaze met yours, unwavering and intense as usual.

“You’re quiet today, Crosshair,” you said one evening, possibly the second night, setting down your book and reclining on the plush golden cushions.

He turned his head slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “I am always quiet.”

You rolled your eyes, noting that he hadn’t caught your sarcastic tone, but you smiled nonetheless. “Too quiet. Won’t you sit with me?”

He stiffened, a slight tension visible in his stance. “I am on duty.”

“It’s 2100 hours. I doubt anyone will interrupt us.” Your voice carried a hint of unintended flirtation, and you noticed his brow raise slightly, his fingers drumming along the stock of his rifle.

“I doubt it too, but regardless, I am on duty, Princess.”

The way he said ‘princess’ was different from anyone else. There was a playful edge to his tone that made your stomach flutter, and you felt a warm prickle spread across your skin.

You pursed your lips, pondering. “Why do you not talk as much as the others?”

He blinked, his expression remaining stoic, before shrugging slightly. “I usually don’t have much worthwhile to say.”

“No stories? No grand explanation on why you shouldn’t do x, y, and z with some shuttles compared to others?” you teased, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

He chuckled and for some reason you gathered that it was a rare sound. It sent a shiver down your spine and even made your cheeks warm. The sight of his smirk was also unexpectedly captivating. “You have been talking too much to Tech.”

“I think it’s Tech talking too much to me,” you replied with a grin.

Crosshair’s eyes softened slightly, and for a moment, the stoic mask he wore seemed to crack. Each night on duty, you seemed to chip away at that mask, revealing glimpses of the man beneath the soldier.

It was on the sixth evening that a significant shift occurred between you and Crosshair. As usual, you were in the library when he entered. Instead of positioning himself in his usual corner, you were present surprised as he stood closer, practically next to the couch you were cosied up on.

You smiled up at him. “Want to sit?” you asked, patting the spot beside you.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” he stated, though it didn’t sound like a flat refusal.

You licked your teeth thoughtfully, your eyes tracing his tall, lean form. Tilting your head to the side, you continued, “But you want to be near me.”

“I am always near you.”

“But tonight you’re closer than before,” you countered, noting the coy smile that played on his lips.

He shifted slightly. “I thought you’d appreciate talking to me as I stand next to you rather than across the room.”

You moved closer to the edge of the couch, turning your body towards him. Your dress rode up a little, exposing more of your leg, and you batted your eyelashes at him. “And now you are too tall and hurting my neck. Please?” you asked, patting the spot beside you once more.

You saw him close his eyes briefly, a soft sigh escaping his lips before he leaned his rifle against the wall and sat beside you. He leaned forward, hands clasped together, and for the first time, he appeared nervous.

“So, how was your day?” you asked cheerfully. Crosshair wanted to roll his eyes but held back, mindful of the respect due to your royal status.

To Crosshair, it felt strange—almost surreal—that someone of your stature would ask about his day. He had always been told that himself and his brothers, even the regs, were bred for war. Viewed nothing more expendable tools of the Republic. He had always been surrounded by Jedi, Generals and Commanders who saw him as just another operative, valued for his skills but not for his individuality. That’s it.

He glanced at you, your eager eyes waiting for his response. “Routine,” he said after a moment. “Same as usual. And yours?”

Your eyes sparkled with interest. “Busy, as always. Meetings, formal dinners, and endless discussions about diplomacy.” You paused, your eyes softening. “It’s refreshing to talk about something different for a change.”

Crosshair studied you, noting the way your shoulders relaxed and the genuine smile on your lips. He found himself rather intrigued by your openness. “I suppose our routines are different,” he grunts.

You nodded. “They are, but I imagine both come with their own set of challenges.”

He allowed himself a small smile. “You could say that.”

There was a comfortable silence as you both sat there, the warmth of the fire casting a gentle glow over the room. Crosshair found himself unexpectedly at ease.

“So,” you began, breaking the silence after a few minutes, “tell me something about yourself that I wouldn’t know.”

Crosshair raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “There isn’t much to tell. I’m a soldier. That’s all I’ve ever been.”

You leaned closer, your curiosity evident. “Surely there’s more to you than that. What about before the war? Any hobbies? Interests?”

He hesitated, then said, “I used to enjoy marksmanship drills. It was... calming. A way to focus.”

You smiled. “I can see that. It suits you.”

As the conversation continued, Crosshair began to open up more, the initial awkwardness fading. For the first time, he felt seen—not as a clone, but as an individual. It was only small but there was a significant shift.

Perhaps a deeper feeling was emerging after all these late night talks.

After a while, you shifted slightly, your dress slipping higher up your leg. You didn’t notice at first but when you turn to look back at Crosshair, his gaze was lingering there. You say nothing at first, feeling a heat grow in your stomach as you watch how his eyes darken - just for a moment - before he quickly looked away.

A playful idea crossed your mind, and you decided to test the waters.

“Crosshair,” you said softly, leaning in a little closer, “would you give me a massage? My legs are terribly sore from all the formal events.”

His eyes widened slightly, and you saw the conflict in his expression. He clearly wanted to, but his sense of duty held him back. “I... I can’t,” he said, his voice strained. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Please?” you asked once more, your voice a soft purr as you looked up at him through your lashes.

He swallowed hard, his resolve visibly weakening. “Princess, I am on duty,” he said, though his voice was huskier now, betraying his inner struggle. “And it would be dishonorable. I... I can’t.”

You pouted playfully, but inside, you admired his steadfastness, even if it meant denying something you both wanted. “Ever the soldier,” you murmured, leaning back and giving him a small, understanding smile.

Crosshair’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer, briefly scanning your plump and soft lips that he found himself foolishly wanting to kiss before he tore his gaze away, his hands clenched together as if to keep them from reaching out to you. The tension in the room was palpable, a mix of unspoken desire and restrained propriety. It was a delicate balance, one that both thrilled and really frustrated you.

You were awakening a side of him he kept buried, and in return, he was stirring emotions within you that you had long suppressed. After all, how often was it you were with another man who wasn’t a guard unchaperoned? You definitely never had feelings towards any of them but to you? He was beautiful. With Crosshair, you felt normal, something you had always yearned for in the rigid constraints of being royalty. But he ignited another, more primal desire within you—lust.

The way his eyes lingered on you, dark and intense that you found yourself burning up under his gaze. It was clear he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

Yet, the cruel reality was that tomorrow would be the last night. Would you ever even see him again?

It seemed as though he could read your mind. Clearing his throat, he turned his body towards you, the intensity of his eyes making your pulse quicken. “Do you still require a massage?” he asked, watching you closely. Your fingers had been absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair for the last few minutes, a normal habit that seemed to make his heart rate pound.

“Please don’t feel obliged to do that for me just because I asked,” you reassured him, your voice soft. “I only asked because...” you trailed off, your thoughts a chaotic mix of emotions you couldn’t entirely decipher.

“Because you like me,” he said boldly, a spark of confidence in his eyes. You watched in silent awe as he deftly pulled something from a pouch in his armor—a toothpick. He placed it between his lips with a casual and almsot suave ease.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. “I value you, yes,” you managed to say, your voice betraying your nerves. But then you met his gaze once more, and a surge of courage flared within you. “And I think you would like to give me a massage,” you continued, a smirk curling at the corners of your lips.

Crosshair’s eyes darkened, the toothpick shifting slightly as he bit down on it. “Is that so?” he murmured.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “I think you want to touch me.”

He inhaled sharply, the tension between you palpable. “You’re playing with fire, Princess,” he warned, but his words lacked conviction, his eyes betraying his desire.

“Maybe,” you teased, leaning closer, your leg now brushing against his. “But it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Are you?”

For a moment, he hesitated, the internal struggle evident in his eyes. Then, with a resigned sigh, he placed his hand gently on your calf, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. “I suppose one massage wouldn’t hurt,” he murmured, his voice husky.

You smiled, your pulse quickening as his fingers began to knead the tension from your muscles. “Good,” you whispered, your voice laced with anticipation as you leaned back, relaxing.

Crosshair’s eyes followed the path of his hands as they moved up your calf, his breath hitching as you let out a soft moan of pleasure. His fingers were firm and skillful, each touch sending ripples of sensation through your body. You didn't hold back, your moans growing louder, each one making his arousal more evident. His pants felt increasingly tight, the bulge in them unmistakable.

“You’re making it hard to concentrate, Princess,” he murmured, his voice strained with desire.

“I can only apologise,” you replied, your voice breathy as you reveled in the feel of his hands on you. “I’m just showing you what you do to me.”

His hands moved higher, massaging your knee before traveling up your thigh. Your dress rode up further, and he paused, his eyes locked on the exposed skin. He bit down on his toothpick, his restraint hanging by a thread.

You open your eyes only to find yourself biting your lip as you watch as he slips his hands free from his gloves, laying them over the arm of the couch before his fingers start to knead at your calf. His touch is firm yet careful, his fingers working the tension from your muscles with practiced ease. You let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the couch, your eyes fluttering closed.

“This is a dangerous game we’re playing, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “You know this is breaking every rule.”

“And yet here you are,” you reply, a playful lilt in your voice. “Breaking them with me.”

He smirks, his hands moving up to your knee, massaging in slow, deliberate circles. “It seems I can’t help myself,” he admits, his eyes blown. “You’re... quite persuasive.”

You arch an eyebrow, feeling a thrill of power at his words. “Am I now? I merely asked you the once” you tease, shifting slightly to allow his hands better access.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hands continue their upward journey, fingers brushing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You feel a rush of heat as he inches closer to the apex of your legs, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he whispers softly, his hands moving higher, and you hold your gasp as you realise how dangerously close he was to your… intimate area. Every nerve ending in your body is awakened by his touch.

"And you're enjoying it," you whisper back, your voice husky with need.

Stars, what kind of hold did he have on you? You were royalty, trained all your life to be reserved and appropriate, yet here you were, parting your legs to give him silent permission to continue. The boldness of your action sends a thrill through you, a heady mix of fear and excitement that makes your heart race.

His hands pause for a moment, his gaze flicking to meet yours. It is obvious you are exposed to him now as his eyes drop between your legs, his hand moving your dress just enough to touch. He lets out a soft moan, the sound making you inevitably clench. Your silk panties, enticing and damp with arousal, has him stopping in his tracks.

It's his turn to bite his lip, almost snapping the toothpick in his mouth as his fingers flex, eager to reach out and brush against you. The sight of his struggle, the raw want in his eyes, sends a fresh wave of heat through you. But then, he closes his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. "Tell me to stop."

His resolve is being rebuilt, a fortress against the growing storm of his desire. Despite the desperation coursing through your veins, you do as he pleads. "You can stop."

Despite your words, it takes him a moment or two to retract his hand, pulling your dress back down slowly to restore your dignity. "I'm sorry, Princess."

There's guilt on his face, and your heart sinks. You pull your legs back away from him and sit forward, gently taking his hand. "You have no reason to apologise. I... I should have realised this was foolish." You scold yourself, closing your eyes tightly. "I do not want to compromise your position."

"My position?" he snaps at you, causing you to flinch slightly. The regret in his gaze is immediate. "What about you? You're the Princess. If I got caught with you you'd be ruined." His tone softens as he continues, the anger melting into concern.

The air between you is thick with unspoken desires, the weight of what could have been pressing down on both of you. Crosshair's hand remains in yours, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he's holding on to the last shred of his self-control. His eyes, filled with a mix of longing and frustration, meet yours.

"Princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, "this is going to be forward but I've never wanted anything more in my life. But I can't... I can't risk you."

You nod, your throat tightening. "I understand. But just for tonight, can we forget who we are? Just be two people, enjoying each other's company?"

His eyes search yours, and after a moment, he nods slowly. "Just for tonight."

Saying goodbye to Crosshair was inevitable, but it was the last thing you wanted to do. You had already said your farewells to the others, and now it was just Crosshair’s turn.

The two of you didn’t speak of what had happened the night before, yet the tension between you lingered in the air, thick and palpable. As usual, after your time spent in the library, he escorted you back to your bedchambers. This time, though, the walk was slower, each step a heavy reminder of what was about to end.

Neither of you said anything as your door came into view. You stopped, and Crosshair halted just a few steps beside you, the silence stretching painfully.

“When can I see you again?” you whispered, not daring to look in his direction. You heard him take a small step closer, his gaze boring into the back of your head, his presence a comforting shadow.

“Do you want to?”

“Of course I do,” you said, exasperated, finally finding the strength to look at him. “I don’t even want to say goodbye.”

Crosshair bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing. “You will have a new set of clones sent next week… you may form a bond with one of them too.”

Ouch. “W-Why are you saying that?”

He sighed and took your arm gently, guiding you into a shadowed corner away from any prying eyes or ears. His touch was firm yet tender, sending shivers down your spine. “I think you’re lonely, Princess… and I was just a distraction.”

Your eyes welled up, tears threatening to spill. Crosshair had never hated a sight more. “No, Crosshair, you weren’t just a distraction for me. I…”

“What?” he probed swiftly, his body almost pressed against yours as your back met the wall, the heat radiating from him almost too much to bear.

You searched his eyes, your lips parting as you subtly inhaled his scent, memorizing his gaze, for possibly the last time. “I think you already know.”

Crosshair was silent, not a rarity, but you could see the emotions flashing across his face. He took your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips, his breath warm and tantalizing. “I know.”

The moment hung heavy between you, charged with unspoken words and suppressed desires. His lips lingered on your skin, the gentle pressure sending a thrill through you. Your heart pounded in your chest as his hand slid up your arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His other hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Crying over me, Princess?”

You leaned into his touch, a soft but sad smile granted at his words. “Just a little.”

Closing your eyes briefly, you savoured the feeling of his touch. When you opened them again, his face was inches from yours, his breath dancing with your own.

Your lips parted slightly, an invitation that he hesitated to accept. His eyes darted to your mouth, his resolve crumbling as he leaned in, the pull between you undeniable. Just as his lips were about to claim yours, you felt the weight of reality crashing down.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “This is too much.”

You pulled back, the pain of the separation cutting deep. Crosshair's hand dropped to his side, his expression a mix of longing and resignation.

“Goodbye, Crosshair,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, stepping back to give you space. “Goodbye, Princess.”

With a heavy heart, you turned and entered your bedchamber without another word. Honestly, you had never hated being a Princess more than ever before.

“Is there something wrong, my lady?”

You stood staring at yourself in the mirror for, well, you weren’t sure how long but it was long enough to raise concerns. Your handmaiden had just assisted you with getting dressed in your nightwear—a beautiful soft nightdress of the finest silk, the fabric a delicate shade of ivory. It flowed gracefully over your form, hugging your curves subtly, with intricate lace detailing along the neckline and hem and stopped just above your knees.

Your hands played with the fabric and you can’t help but wonder what it’d feel like to have his hands on you. It’d be inappropriate for anyone to see you in a state of undress but you got the warm feeling in your gut that he would undress you even further.

You sigh softly to yourself, Crosshair replaying in your mind on a constant loop. His touch from the massage, his words, the intensity of the almost-kiss—it all haunted you, refusing to let you rest. You barely noticed your handmaiden’s presence until she laid a gentle hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Would you like me to get someone for you?” she asked softly, her concern evident in her eyes.

You turned to her, the turmoil of your emotions barely concealed. “No, thank you. I’m just… distracted, I suppose.”

“Is there anything I can do to help, my lady?”

You remain tight lipped, glancing back at your reflection. The nightdress, so elegant and pure, seemed almost a mockery of the confusion and desire within you. “No, it’s something I need to work through on my own.”

She nodded, stepping back respectfully. “Of course, my lady. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you,” you said, offering her a small, grateful smile. “That will be all for tonight.”

With a curtsy, she left you alone in your chambers, the silence and stillness pressing in around you. You moved to your bed, the cool sheets an almost embarrassing contrast to the heat of your thoughts.

For an hour, you tossed and turned, staring at the canopy above your head. Frustration clawed at you, and at one point, you grabbed your pillow, pressing it over your face and screaming into it to release the pent-up emotions.

Just as exhaustion began to tug at you, a faint tap at the door leading to the balcony broke through the haze of near-sleep. You squinted into the darkness, unsure if you were hearing things, but the tap came again, as if a pebble was being thrown at it.

Instinctively, you would have called out for a guard, alerting them to a possible threat. But something in your gut told you not to. Trusting that intuition, you crawled out of bed, grabbing a gown and draping it over your nightdress.

As you opened the door to your balcony, you hesitated for a moment but you threw caution to the wind and wanted to see for yourself. You stepped out onto the balcony, the cool stone beneath your bare feet grounding you. At first you saw nothing but then, you spotted him.

Below, emerging from the shadows, stood Crosshair. “Crosshair? W-What’re you doing here?” you whisper-shouted down to him, checking the coast was clear.

“Honestly? I don’t know. Hunter is going to kill me and possibly your family, but I had to see you,” he replied, his eyes scanning the area too for any signs of danger.

Your heart swelled, and your eyes twinkled with raw emotion. “Am I really worth that risk?”

“For you?” He chuckled softly, his voice carrying a warmth that made your heart flutter. “Anything.”

Without another thought, you motioned for him to come up. Crosshair scaled the trellis with practiced ease, and within moments, he stood before you on the balcony, his tall form casting a shadow in the moonlight.

The tension from earlier, the unspoken words and desires, hung thick in the air. You stepped closer to him, your hand reaching out to touch his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “You came back.”

He nodded. You can tell he wasn’t used to showing such affection as his hand, shaking, lays over the top of yours that was against his chest, holding it closer to his heart. “I couldn’t stay away it seems.l

The intensity in his eyes made your knees weak. “What if we’re caught?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t care,” he said, his tone fierce yet tender. “I’d rather face the consequences than spend another night without you.”

Without saying another word, your lips met in a frenzy of raw passion and need.

He guided you back into the room, not once parting his lips from yours, and shut the door to the balcony behind him.

His hands took refuge on your hips, pulling you closer as he met your gaze briefly, as if to reassure himself that you were real, before he kissed you again with renewed hunger.

You groaned into his embrace, your body flush against his as the moonlight danced through the cracks in your curtains, casting a silvery glow over your entwined forms. With a soft sigh, you let your tongue run against his bottom lip, and his knees almost buckled at the sensation.

He allowed you access, and your tongues swirled and danced together. Your hands roamed up and down his body, only now realising he wore no armour, just his long black one-piece that most clones wore underneath. This allowed you to feel his slender, toned figure beneath your fingers, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric.

“Like what you feel?” he rasped against your mouth as you moaned at the mere touch of him.

“Very much so,” you smiled, both of you pulling away for a much-needed breath.

His eyes roamed your figure, a smirk on his lips and in his eyes. “It feels wrong of me to see you dressed this way,” he muttered, pinching the fabric of your nightdress between his fingers softly. “You look so innocent.”

“Are you saying I didn’t look that way before?” you hummed, a teasing lilt to your voice.

“I suppose you did,” he started before he leans in, his lips trailing down to your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake, “but your mind isn’t so pure.”

A shiver ran down your spine as his mouth worked its way along your neck, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses that sent jolts of pleasure coursing through you. He nipped at your skin, sucking and leaving marks that would remind you of this night. Then, his hand slipped under your nightdress, the cool touch of his fingers against your heated skin making you gasp.

“You like that?” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and gravelly. “You like feeling my hands on you, knowing you’re mine right now, Princess?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your hands gripping his shoulders as his fingers squeezed your arse, pulling you even closer. You could feel his erection straining against his pants, the hard length pressing into you.

You could feel yourself dampen, your pussy throbbing with a desperate need to be met. “Take me to my bed.”

“As you command.” He wasted no time in lifting you up, carrying you across the threshold before laying you down in the middle of the bed. He leaned over, grabbed a pillow to tuck under your head, then crawled over the top of you, claiming your lips once more.

You moaned his name into his mouth, your leg hooking around his waist and bringing him flush to you. You couldn’t help the way your hips ground against his thigh, the friction making you gasp against his lips. “Tell me what you want, beautiful.” He cupped your jaw, his tongue hot and trailing over your lips with teasing flicks. “I’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted. I’ll do anything you’ve ever desired.”

You closed your eyes and let out a breathless sigh. “Do what you wanted to do to me in the library.”

He pulled back, tilting his head down at you. “Tell me first, Princess,” his tone soft, “have you done this before?”

You swallowed and nervously shook your head. “No. But I want to.” You replied, reaching your hand up and touching his cheek, tracing your thumb across the bottom of his tattoo. “With you.”

A cocky and satisfied smile spread across his lips, his fingers slipping under the hem of your nightdress and moving up your thighs.

You trembled beneath his touch as he bunched the fabric around your hips, revealing your bare pussy to him. “Stars, you’re beautiful,” he groaned, his eyes darkening with lust as he spread your legs wider, settling himself between them. His mind flashed back to the moment in the library, when he saw your silk panties and how desperately he craved to taste you. And now, that time has finally come.

He pressed soft, teasing kisses along your inner thighs, making you squirm with anticipation. “Patience, Princess,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalising. “I want to savour this.”

You whimpered, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he finally reached your core, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation made you cry out, your back arching off the bed. “Crosshair,” you moaned, your voice desperate and needy.

His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he licked and sucked at your clit, intense and with precision. “You taste so sweet,” he mewls against you, the vibrations sending shivers through you. “I could stay here all night.”

You were lost in a haze of pleasure for an incredible few minutes, your body writhing beneath him as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. “Please,” you gasped, your hands clutching at his head. “I need more.”

He looked up at you through your legs, his eyes burning into you. “As you wish, beautiful.” He brought his hands up, tugging the top of your nightdress down to expose your breasts. You gasp at the sudden chill but then moan as his fingers begin to play with your nipples, rolling and pinching them as he continues to devour you.

You cried out at the dual sensations, your hips bucking against his mouth. “Oh, fuck,” you slipped, the curse word escaping before you could stop it.

Crosshair’s eyes flashed with something primal at your slip of the tongue, and he responded with a feral groan. “Such a dirty mouth for a Princess,” he taunted, his fingers slipping inside you, curling and thrusting in time with his tongue’s ministrations.

Your legs turned to jelly, your body trembling uncontrollably as he finger-fucked you with relentless rigour. “Crosshair!” you screamed, your voice hoarse with pleasure. “Oh, fuck, don’t stop!”

He didn’t, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to push you over the edge. Your climax hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body shaking with the force of it as you cried out his name again and again, thighs threatening to close between over his head as cum all over his mouth.

He held you through it, his movements slowing as you came down from your high, your body limp and sedated beneath him. He pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh before pulling back. “I could get used to hearing you scream my name,” he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly over your sensitive skin.

“Me too,” you gasped, sitting up on your elbows as he moved to lay beside you. “That was… I can't even explain.”

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked softly, laying his hand over the top of yours.

“Loved it.” You grinned, but there was something you now wanted to try. Your eyes drifted down to the obvious bulge in his blacks, your breath hitching with anticipation. You bit your lip, your fingers tracing the outline of his arousal through the fabric. “I think it’s time I return the favor.”

Crosshair's eyes haze over with lust as he watched you. “Princess, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you interrupted, your voice filled with a mix of determination and nervous excitement. You both sit up, Crosshair watching you in awe as you help him slip out of his glove, your fingers brushing against his skin as you expose his toned chest. Your hands moved lower, tugging down his lower half and freeing him from the confines. His erection sprang free, and you couldn’t help but marvel at his size and the throbbing need you saw in his eyes.

“You’re so hard,” you whispered, your voice laced with hunger. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

He groaned, his hands clenching the sheets as you wrapped your fingers around his length, giving him a tentative stroke. “Princess…”

You leaned in, your breath warm against his skin as you began to place soft kisses along his shaft. “Do you like this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he hissed, his hips bucking slightly as you took him into your mouth. He lays back down as you start slow, your tongue swirling around the tip, tasting his salty essence. You glanced up at him, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Encouraged, you took him deeper, your lips stretching around his girth. You hollowed your cheeks, creating a delicious suction that made him groan loudly. “Oh fuck,” he muttered, his hands tangling in your hair as he struggled to keep control.

You began to bob your head, your hand pumping the base of his cock in rhythm with your mouth. The sounds you made were wet and obscene, if someone were to press their ear against the door they’d definitely hear what was going on but it only spurred you on. You could feel his body tensing, his muscles straining as he fought to hold back.

Wanting to drive him wild, you let your other hand gently cup his balls, rolling them in your palm. You felt his entire body shudder, his grip on your hair tightening. “Oh baby, that feels good,” he groaned, his voice a deep rasp.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you pulled back slightly, letting your tongue trail down to his balls. You kissed and sucked on them, your hand still working his shaft. The combination of your antics had him thrashing, his moans growing louder and louder. Your lips, covered in spit, move back to his cock as you then take him deeper, your throat relaxing as you push yourself to take more of him. His cock hit the back of your throat, and you gagged slightly, but the sound only seemed to excite him more. “Princess, you’re g-going, shit, to make me cum,” he warned, his voice strained.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with determination. “That’s exactly what I want,” you whispered, before taking him back into your mouth with renewed vigour. You used your hand to stroke the length you couldn’t fit, your fingers squeezing and twisting in a way that made him gasp.

Then, in a moment of boldness, you shifted your attention lower, letting your tongue trail down to his balls once more. You took one into your mouth, sucking gently while your hand continued to pump his shaft. The sound that ripped from his throat was almost primal, his body trembling as his orgasm was closing in.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily as you lavished attention on his sensitive skin. “That feels so fucking good.”

You could feel his balls tightening in your hand, his entire body tensing as he reached his peak. With one final, desperate thrust, he came, spilling himself into your mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, the taste of him filling your senses.

When he finally stilled, you pulled back, licking your lips and meeting his gaze. His cocky demeanor was shattered, replaced by a look of bewilderment and satisfaction. “Baby,” he breathed, “You’re incredible.”

You smiled, crawling up to lay beside him, your head resting on his chest. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you whispered, feeling a sense of pride. Truthfully, you never thought you’d be able to do this. Especially having brought him so much pleasure.

“Do you want to take it a step further?” Crosshair asks, his eyes searching yours as you nestle into his chest, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Your heart races at his words, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding your senses. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice tight with anticipation.

He cups your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Are you sure my sweet? This is your first time.”

“I’m sure,” you reply, your voice growing more confident. “I want you, Crosshair.”

A smile spreads across his lips as he moves to hover above you. He kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hand slides down your body to your pussy once again. You part your legs, his fingers finding your wetness. “Mmm, you’re so ready for me,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low growl.

His fingers tease your slit, rubbing gently before slipping inside you to prepare you for his length. You gasp and grin at the sensation, your body tensing slightly. It felt amazing but perhaps your nerves were getting the better of you.

“Relax,” he whispers, his lips moving to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I trust you.”

He continues to caress you, his fingers working you open as his thumb circles your clit. The pleasure builds, making you moan softly. When he feels you’re ready, he positions himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock teasing your opening.

“This might hurt a little,” he warns, his eyes locking with yours. “But I promise it’ll feel good soon.”

You nod, bracing yourself. He pushes into you slowly, stretching you inch by inch. You whimper at the slight sting, your nails digging into his shoulders. He kisses you gently, murmuring soothing words against your lips. “You’re doing so well, Princess. Just breathe.”

As he pushes deeper, you feel an intense fullness, his cock stretching you in ways you’ve never felt before. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that leaves you breathless. “W-wow.” You look between both your bodies, watching his cock slowly disappear inside you.

The sight blew your mind. You knew this was breaking royal protocol and that if anyone found out, there would be dire consequences. But the thrill of the forbidden romance only spurs you on, making you crave him even more.

When he hits the wall inside you, his cock rests in the warmth of your cunt, letting you adjust to his size. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your body relaxing as the initial pain fades and as you lay your head back down to look up at him. “Please, continue.”

He begins to move, his strokes slow and deep, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. He watches your face, gauging your reactions, and when he sees you start to enjoy it, his pace quickens.

“Please, be more dominant with me,” you moan, your voice breathy with need. “I want you to take control.”

His eyes gleam with power at your words, a cocky smile spreading across his face. “Are you sure you want that?”

You bite your lip, “Are you questioning the Princess?” You counter with a flash of mischief. “Claim. Me.”

He groans at your words, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his thrusts becoming harder and more powerful as you demanded. The bed creaks under the force, your moans growing louder with each movement. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, his voice rough. “such a tight royal pussy.”

“More, Crosshair! I need your cock so much.” You cry, your body being pummelled into your mattress. You could feel the stretch of your pussy, his veiny length creating a beautiful friction inside you that had your toes curling.

His eyes burn with lust as he increases his pace, each thrust harder and faster. After a while, he shifts positions, flipping you onto your stomach. “Get on your knees,” he commands.

You obey, your body trembling with anticipation. He positions himself behind you, his hands gripping the roush of your nightdress as he drives into you from behind in a quick motion. You lay your face into the pillow, hips raised to allow him to go deeper, hitting spots inside you that make you cry out in pleasure. “F-F-Fuck.” You gasp, your hands tight in the sheets as he brings your body back and forth onto his dick.

Your moans are muffled by the pillow as he pounds into you, the bed continuing to creak rhythmically beneath you. You reach down, fondling your own breasts, pinching your nipples as waves of pleasure build. "D-Dont stop, you’re so good.”

The room fills with the sounds of your bodies moving together—his grunts and praises, your moans, the slap of skin against skin. His pace is relentless, each thrust more intense than the last. Your bodies glisten with sweat, droplets sliding down your back and mingling with his, the heat of your coupling intensifying.

You feel his hands tighten on your hips, guiding you into a perfect rhythm. Each movement sends jolts of ecstasy through you, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

You arch your back, pushing against him, matching his fervent thrusts. He grins cockily from behind you, reaching across and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

“Dirty little girl,” he groans, watching his cock slip in and out of you. The friction, the pressure, the overwhelming pleasure was making you see stars.

"Crosshair," you gasp again, your voice strained with impending climax. "I’m so close."

He pulls out suddenly making you whine as you miss the heat before he flips you onto your back again. “Not yet,” he growls, and you watch in wide-eyed awe as he moves to straddle your chest. “Suck me first.”

Without a question you take him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his cock as he thrusts shallowly. He watches you with a dazed, hungry expression, his hands guiding your movements as he locks his fingers round the back of your head, keeping your face in place as his cock slips all over your tongue and down your throat. “You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he murmurs, his voice rough as you slurp and gasp on his cock. “Such a filthy Princess.”

When he’s had his fill, he pulls out making you gasp for a breath as he begins positioning himself between your legs again. “Ready for more?”

“Yes,” you pant, your body aching for release.

He drives into you again, this time harder and faster. Your moans fill the room as he fucks you relentlessly, each thrust sending you closer to the edge. “Touch yourself,” he mutters, his voice rough. “I want to see you come.”

Your fingers instantly move between your legs, fingers thrashing over your clit as he ruts into you. The combination of his cock and your own touch pushes you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. “FUCK! C-Crosshair! I’m cumming.” Your body convulses, your screams of pleasure filling the room as you feel yourself release over his cock.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groans, pulling out at the last moment. He straddles you, stroking himself to completion. “Where do you want it?”

“On my breasts,” you gasp, arching your back to him.

He moans deeply, his release hitting your breasts and nightdress in hot, sticky spurts. He collapses beside you, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies slick with sweat.

But you aren’t done. If this was the last time you were to see him, you were going to make it last.

With a smirk, you push him onto his back, straddling him with this newfound confidence. “I think it’s my turn to return the favour again,” you murmur, guiding his hardening cock back inside you. You begin to ride him, your movements becoming more skilled and precise despite your inexperience.

Stars, what would anyone think of you now?

“That’s it… you’re beautiful,” he groans, his hands moving to your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples as you move, not caring if his hands get a little messy from his previous release. His mouth follows, sucking and kissing your tits, making you moan with every touch.

You grind against him, your hips rolling as you ride him faster. You start by gently rocking your hips, feeling him deep inside you. Gradually, you lift your body, almost letting him slip out before slamming back down, taking him fully each time.

Your rhythm is mesmerising, your back arching as you move, your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

His eyes are locked onto you, completely enamoured, unable to keep his hands off you. His fingers trace the curves of your body, his hands holding your hips, guiding your movements. “Fuck yes,” he groans, his eyes filled with desire. “Keep going.”

Your pace increases, each upward lift and downward slam more intense than the last. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, mingling with your increasingly loud moans. Your body trembles with the intensity of your second orgasm building inside you.

“Crosshair,” you cry, your voice thick with pleasure, “I’m going to come again.”

He looks up at you with adoration and hunger, his hands caressing your thighs and waist. “That’s it, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and encouraging. “Let go for me. You’re doing so well.”

You feel his fingers start to brush against your clit, adding to the overwhelming sensation. Your hips move frantically, chasing that peak of pleasure. He can’t stop praising you, his voice a constant murmur of soft words and pleads. “So beautiful,” he breathes, his eyes never leaving yours. “Keep going, just like that. Cum for me.”

Your body spas, your orgasm shooting through your body. Your cries of pleasure fill the room and he holds you through it, his hands and voice grounding you as you ride out the waves of your release,.

As you collapse onto his chest, both of you panting and spent, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “You were perfect,” he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely perfect.”

You definitely couldn’t go on after that, your legs like jelly as you flop onto your side next to him, the feeling of him exiting you lewd and sinful but you didn’t care.

The two of you lay in silence, nothing but heavy pants and the soft shines of moonlight seen and heard in the room. You’re suddenly drowsy but you knew you should get up and make yourself tidy. But Crosshair beat you to it.

“Stay here,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care of you.”

He slipped out of bed, his movements graceful and quiet as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom. You heard the sound of running water, the faint clink of glass bottles as he prepared a bath for you. A few moments later, he returned to your side, lifting you gently in his arms.

“Come on, Princess,” he whispered, carrying you to the bathroom. He set you down by the edge of the tub, the warm steam rising up to meet you. “Let me help you.”

He eased you into the bath, the hot water enveloping you like a comforting embrace. You sighed, sinking back against the tub as the tension melted from your muscles. Crosshair knelt beside you, his touch tender as he washed your back and hair. His fingers worked through your knots with care, his eyes focused and attentive.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your voice drowsy. “Thank you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he teased, making you playfully splash him with the bath water as his hand glides through your hair. “I’m only messing. You deserve to be pampered.”

After a while, he helped you out of the bath, wrapping you in a plush towel. He dried you off gently, his touch soothing and careful. When you were dry, he led you back to the bed, tucking you under the covers before slipping in beside you. You nestled against his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

“What happens next?” you asked quietly, your fingers tracing patterns on his skin.

Crosshair sighed, his hold on you tightening slightly. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I wish I did. Maybe my squad could be assigned to protect you, but it would complicate things. Our feelings… they aren’t supposed to happen.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. “I know. But I can’t help how I feel. Maybe one day, things will be different.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his voice soft. “One day.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “We could run away,” you joked lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips yet a part of you wanted it to not be a joke. At all. “I could live a life of adventure and freedom instead of staying in these walls.”

He chuckled, a sound that rumbled deep in his chest. “As tempting as that sounds, Princess, we both know it’s not possible. Your duty is here. And mine… well, mine is wherever the Republic needs me.”

A sad reality settled over you, the weight of your responsibilities pressing down. But with Crosshair holding you close, you allowed yourself to dream.

“We’ll figure it out,” you said softly, your voice filled with determination. “Somehow.”

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering. He doesn’t reply with his thoughts, not wanting to fill you with false promises. Apart from this real one: “Whatever happens, I will never forget you.”

And he said your name. Not your title. Your real name.

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace lull you into a peaceful sleep. You didn’t want to admit it, but you know that when you wake he will no longer be beside you.

The future was uncertain, but for now, you had this moment. And it was enough.

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hollyseb · 9 months

Text

BARTENDER (FINAL PART)

Warnings; violence, blood, smut. MINORS DNI. I am not responsible for your media consumption

No permission to copy my work.

AN: I hope you enjoy the finale :)

Meanwhile, Bucky made his way to Rumlow’s warehouse. Blood thumping in his ears as he hugged his gun closely to his body. He was going to kill Rumlow, rip his organs from his body. Make it slow and painful.

He organised Sam and Steve, directing them to take different entrances as he took the main one. He could barely see as it was thumping down with rain.

Bucky pushed the rusty door open, expecting to see Rumlow and his cronies in the middle of the room, only to see nobody there. Fuck. No, no, no. It was a trap. He saw Sam and Steve begin to step into the room, shock clear on both their faces too. This stupid mob was usually so predictable.

And now you were at home, nobody present, completely vulnerable. God, how could I be so fucking stupid? He thought. He wanted to rip his hair out.

“Buck, she’ll be fine at the house, really, just relax”, Steve said, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky’s shoulders were raising and falling drastrically. Fear was gripping his lungs. What if they had got you? God knows what they were doing. This was the first time in years he had let himself grow close to someone, develop feelings, and of course it was taken advantage of. It was arrogant really, to think that he could live any resemblance of a normal life.

The fear was replaced by anger. How dare they? He was shaking, clenching his fists and grinding his jaw. He ripped the car door open and slammed it shut after he got in. He started speeding back to his house, back to you. He didn’t care about anything as long as you were safe.

His car skidded into his driveway, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he saw a smashed window. Fuck. I’m going to skin him alive.

Bucky jumped out the SUV before it had even come to a stop, kicking his front door in. There were male footprints cased into the floor. They were here.

Steve and Sam followed suit, scoping out the foyer, pointing their guns into each corner.

Bucky felt the air get knocked from his lungs when he saw the trail of blood leading from the stairs to the dining room. Signalling to eachother, Bucky pushed the door open as Sam and Steve looked through their guns.

Stepping into the room, the trail of blood stopped. You were sat in the middle of the room. Ankles and wrists tied to one of the dining room chairs you were sitting in earlier. Your head lolling onto your chest.

Bucky could hardly breathe. Blood thumping in his ears. He gripped his gun closer, approaching you.

His hand reached out, forefinger and thumb reaching out to your chin, lifting your face up. You were out, cold. But… you weren’t hurt too badly. A split chin, and a bruise blossoming on your temple. He was finally able to release a sigh of relief.

A figure emerged from the dark corner of the room. Rumlow. Bucky immediately lifted his gun, Rumlow snorted.

“Such a sweet little thing, really”, motioning to you, “you know she was gasping your name while I suffocated her”

Holy fuck. Bucky could only see red. He wasn’t like this normally. He was calm, controlled, calculated. But with you, he had something to lose. He was irrational, angry and impulsive.

Rumlow continued his taunting, “she is… not what I expected from you, really. Is she a good fuck or something?”

“Shut the fuck up”, Bucky gritted, stalking closer to Rumlow. He was standing behind the chair you were sitting in, caressing your shoulders. It was sickening. He was practically using you as a human shield.

Rumlows hand carried on down your chest, landing on top of your breasts, “I mean, I could let you know if she is. Then you can go back to the whores you like so much, and I can have this sweet, innocent thing to myself”

He put his dirty lips against your neck, licking up from the base to your ear lobe. It was filthy. Bucky’s chest got tight at the sight, the violation and the way Rumlow acted as though you were his. He knew he was practically dead.

Bucky lunged at Rumlow, but within an instant he had pulled a pocket knife from his jacket. He had your hair fisted in his hand, and the knife in the other. Guiding it from your bruised temple, down vein running through the side of your throat.

Bucky stopped in his path.

“James…I will take everything you hold dear, until you are simply a shell of a man. I saw the way you looked at this bitch. I hadn’t seen that fire in your eyes for a long time”

It was all a show, to rile Bucky up. It worked. With a bang, Bucky threw his gun on the floor, the bullets clattering and rolling. He lunged for Rumlow and dragged him by his hair to the floor.

He landed punch, after punch, after punch. He didn’t stop when he heard Rumlows head crack against the tile. He didn’t stop when Rumlow passed out. He was ruthless, it was sickening. Steve had to drag Rumlow from Bucky's grip while Sam untied the restraints holding your limbs.

Bucky turned to face you, and caught your body as it began to slip down the chair from the lack of constraints. He was a state. Dark, hollowed eyes, bloodied fists. A sharp contrast to how he was acting with you. His hand gently rubbing your temple, hoping he could simply erase the bruising. His thumb caresses your split jaw, wiping away the wet blood.

He was murmuring your name beneath his breath, begging you to come back around.

Slowly but surely, your eyes opened, blurrily landing on the man holding you.

“B-Bucky?” Your voice was quiet, broken, and confused. The words barely scraping out your throat.

He pounced on you, one hand wrapping around the back of your head and the other gripping your waist. You stayed like that for a long time. Sitting across his lap in his bloodied kitchen.

You spoke into his chest, “that man… Bucky I was so scared”.

He picked you up in one swift motion, muttering “I know honey, you did so, so well. I’ve got you now though, and I won’t leave you again”. He was carrying you to his bedroom.

He instructed you to get changed, your clothes splattered in your own blood. He went to leave, as he did earlier,

“N-no. Stay”, your hands reaching out to his turned back. He simply sent you a curt nod, not sure how to feel. He went and sat on the bed, trying not to burn a hole through your bare back as you changed your sweater and reached for one of his shirts.

You joined him on the bed, suddenly aware of how intimate the scenario was. You were sitting almost on top of him, in his shirt, as he wiped the dried blood from your lip with damp gauze, and drew soft circles into your back to soothe you. You noticed the way he grimaced when his eyes drifted to your bruised temple. They’d never fucking touch you again.

He couldn’t help the emotions that drifted over him. Possession. It was sickening. Obsessive. His brain pushing images of how you would’ve been attacked. His stomach turning. He was trying to shove the thoughts away. The way he wanted to know where you were all the time, who you were with. This never would’ve happened if he protected you.

You couldn't help it. You leaned over and took his face in your hands, wanting to wipe away the concern and anger.

You turned your head and let your lips land on his. You could tell he was surprised at first, feeling a gasp across your lower lip, but he quickly eased into it. His hand falling to your lower back.

You were dominating at first, but not for long. Soon enough he had a hand on the back of your head, leaning you back to give himself more access for his tongue to dominate yours. You’d given his permission to act on his primal instincts. To mark you in the way that Rumlow had threatened to.

He leaned back, and pulled you onto his lap as he rested against the headboard. God, you could do this forever. The kiss went from gentle to rough, as his hand started pressing into your lower back, arching you down onto him.

You gasped into his mouth, he ate it up, biting down on your lower lip, avoiding the cut.

His hands travelled down to your ass, slowly groping, and gently running his hands over it. You exhaled gently into his mouth. You needed this. The catharsis. The sweet release.

You could feel his hardening cock below your core, his jaw clenched when you slowly, slowly allowed yourself to start moving along it. Your hips dancing back and forth.

Fuck. He felt like he was about to cum in his pants.

He’d fucked plenty of women before. But this… was different. He wanted to take his time with you, show you how much he cared, make you feel better than you ever have. He wanted to ruin all other men for you. Make you his, and only his.

“I can’t-”, Bucky pulled back from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours while using his big hands to still your hips, “I can’t control myself around you”. A warning.

You softly smiled against his lips, “shut up”, you teased. He grinned against you, guiding your hips over his cock again. You were truly something else, he thought, telling a mob boss to shut up. His cock got even harder.

His hands toyed with the hem of your shirt, asking for permission to rip it off. He peeled it over your head, his eyes raking over your bare body. Teeth digging into his lower lip when your hair landed softly upon your body.

Toned shoulders and molded collarbones. Leading to your round breasts and soft stomach. His hands cupped your tits, tweaking your nipples, you felt a shiver down your spine.

He disconnected from your lips to stare at your breasts, “best pair of tits I’ve ever fuckin’ seen”, he murmured to himself, taking a nipple into his mouth and gently sucking on it.

Your back arched into him, wanting to be ever closer. Gasping when he released it with a pop and blew cool air onto it, causing it to harden.

“F-fuck”, you moaned as he took the other one in his mouth, biting down ever so slightly. It was cruel, the way he was teasing you, had you tethering on the edge. One hand kneading your breast, and the other squeezing your ass.

You yelped when he bit down on your nipple and smacked your ass at the same time. You looked down, to see him grinning as he looked up at you. Devil, you thought.

Within an instant, he had you flipped over. One hand supporting his weight, and the other trailing down your body.

“You’re fucking perfect” Bucky whispered, as he pressed his lips to your neck. You were exactly how he envisioned. Perfect, angelic… and all his.

His lips travelled down your body, nipping and tucking. Landing on your collarbone and leaving a hefty hickey. He kissed down, down until he was kneeled between your legs.

He gently spread your legs, holding them open with a hand on your knees. He kissed down your thighs, sucking slightly, his other hand teasing you, so close but so far from where you needed him.

He looked up at you, stripping you of your shorts. He hooked his fingers around the waistline of your panties, tugging them down, his eyes remained on yours. Instinctively, you raised your hands to your face, suddenly feeling too bare.

“Ah-ah-ah”, the man between your legs tsked, grabbing your wrists. “You think you can hide from me, honey?”, a devilish grin appearing on his face, you had no clue how true those words rang.

He spread your legs once more, before eyeing your glistening cunt. Fuck, he thought. You were perfect.

His finger ran from the hole to your throbbing clit, spreading the wetness, before using his thumb and forefinger to spread your folds.

“I think you want this more than I do, honey”, Bucky sighed, his cock painfully hard, “you’re fucking dripping”.

You felt your face flush.

“Tell me…”, he slapped your thigh gently, demanding your eye contact, “tell me how badly you want me to eat this pussy out”

You blushed deeper, shocked at his brashness. He loved it. You were too good of a girl for this. He was corrupting you. He wanted to fuck the good girl right out of you. Make you just like him.

He smirked at your silence. Grinning at your sharp inhale when he got close to your clit, exhaling on it, and then pulling away. He was teasing you. Fuck. You writhed under him and he had barely touched you.

“P-please Bucky”, you begged.

His grip on your thigh got painful, “you know what I want to hear”, he smirked up at you, arrogantly.

Your fingers gripped the sheets, before whispering “I want you to eat this pussy so badly”. God, the power this man holds over you is insane. You felt naughty, like you'd said a swear word.

All thoughts flew out of your head when his tongue made contact with your cunt. Flatly licking from your hole to your clit. You were tensing around nothing. He was so gentle yet so hard, his fingers spreading your folds.

He was drunk on the way your head fell back onto the pillow, the pleasure consuming you. He held your legs down with his big forearms, pinning you to the bed. He was a man possessed, his only mission making you orgasm. Your hips were lifting from the bed.

“Stop fucking moving”, he murmured against you. The vibrations only spur you further.

His licks got faster, as did your moans. The coil in your stomach was tightening, your thighs gripping his head.

“G-gonna cum, Buck-” you stammered, as your legs locked around his head, your hips rising from the bed. You were practically riding his face, chasing your pleasure.

Bucky had to grind his cock against the mattress to feel some relief.

Bucky lifted his head, drinking in the way you were laying. Messy hair, puffy lips, your chest rising and falling steadily.

He climbed up your body, nudging your lips with his nose. Your lips met, you could taste yourself on him. It was filthy. So, so hot. His hands met your thighs again, fingers gently strumming your clit.

“B-Buck…too much”, your eyes rolling into your head.

“Shhh. I’m not done yet honey”, he whispered against your lips, ignoring your protests, rubbing tight circles onto your clit.

Your body tensed when his index finger teased your tight hole.

“Is this okay?” Bucky questioned when you inhaled sharply at his intrusion.

“Y-yeah. I just…”, you cringed when you looked at him.

“Has nobody ever done this before, baby?” He looked at you sympathetically, but his eyes screamed possession. He thought his cock might explode. Fuck.

Of course you’d had sex before, but nobody had really taken the time to melt you down, rip you apart.

He tutted condescendingly, “don’t worry honey, I’ll take care of you. I’ll make you feel so good”, he kissed you gently.

His finger gently pushing into you, the stretch was delicious. You gasped when you’d finally taken it all, and then when he started moving in and out slowly. You were so tight. He didn’t know whether to pull out, or to continue his intrusion. You were embarrassed by the squelching noises, your arousal painfully obvious.

“Take everything I fucking give you”, Bucky murmured to himself before his mouth latched onto your tit. He wanted to overwhelm you, to invade all your senses. He wanted you weak, docile.

He curled his fingers, hitting your g-spot. When his thumb gently pressed against your clit, you couldn't even tell Bucky you were going to cum, it just came over you. Your body tensing, your head lolling across your shoulders. Bucky couldn’t stop staring at you. Fuck.

Yeah, you had ruined all other women for him.

He gently kissed you through your orgasm. Tonguing away the tears that had seeped from your eyes.

You were overwhelmed, clutching Bucky’s arms, trying to ground yourself. Bucky pulled you on top of him, hands running up and down your bare spine. It was intimate. Matching your breathing to his, you were calmed.

You sat up, your hands pressing against his chest. He was surprised at that. He thought you would’ve been utterly fucked out. You sent him a dozy smile, as you pushed your weight down, applying pressure to his throbbing cock.

He exhaled at that, grateful for the relief, his hands fisting your hips. Before resuming his dominant demeanor, he sat up, gently tugging on the ends of your hair, forcing your head back.

“You want me to fuck you, huh?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow. His grip on your hair got tighter when you didn’t answer.

“I want you to fuck me so badly”, you whispered, echoing what he had taught you earlier. You just wanted to please him. He smirked at that, but you could tell he was surprised, his eyebrows lifting. You were his filthy girl.

He pulled away within an instant, tugging off his shirt and trousers. His body was insane. Broad shoulders, small waist, big arms. You watched, almost obsessively, when he removed his briefs. He was grinning at your reaction. His long cock slapping against his abs, the tip leaking.

Fuck, he is massive.

Your mouth fell open, you were practically drooling. He smirked, tweaking your nipple again. His thumb ran over his tip, collecting the precum, he raised his coated thumb to your lips, guiding it into your mouth. He tasted delicious. You wrapped your lips around him, and sucked his thumb gently. It was dirty.

His other hand pushed you down onto the bed. His cock in his hand, approaching you. You gasped when he ran his cock through them, tapping the tip against your clit.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you”, he whispered to himself, against your neck as he slowly pushed himself inside of you.

Your entire body tensed at first, but slowly relaxed as he ran a hand down your thigh, telling you to take deep breaths, and reminded you how good you were being.

You let your eyes fall shut when he eventually bottomed out, taking deep breaths to accommodate his huge size. He knew he was big, but after he was an inch inside of you, he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

He stilled, his finger gripping your jaw. “Open your fucking eyes”, sending you a sweet smile when you complied. God, he makes your head spin. How his words and actions conflict each other. “That’s a good girl.”

He began rocking into you, pulling his cock almost all the way out before sliding back in. He was obsessed with the way your eyes rolled back and your jaw fell slack when his cock touched that spongy spot.

His eyes flicking between your fucked-out face, your bouncing tits, and the slick coating his cock where you two met.

“I’m. Fucking. Obsessed. With. You”, his thrusts punctuating each word, “my good girl, all fucking mine”. He brushed the hair that was stuck to your forehead with sweat from your face.

You were making unintelligible sounds. He was everywhere. Licking up your throat, biting your lip, squeezing your tits. You were so tight, sucking him in. The headboard rhymically slamming against the wall.

You whined his name. He could feel you pulsating, gripping him like a vice. You were cumming again, your head clouding. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

He was drinking you in, staring at your creased face, mouth agape. You were beautiful. He loved you like this. After the fear of having lost you, he just wanted to know where you were all the time. You were safe if you were under him.

He wanted this to last forever, but he felt his orgasm rising. You watched him as he leaned back, his abs tensing. You clenched teasingly, watching him chase his finish.

He stared at you as you smirked at him. You had all the power now. His head fell back as his thrusts became sloppier. He was moaning your name repeatedly.

“Going to cum inside of you, honey. Make you all mine. All fucking mine”. It was carnal, his need to release his load inside of you.

Your eyes widened. You hadn’t seen him so possessive before. “Y-yes. Cum inside of me, p-please”, you muttered, fingernails raking down his abs.

You could feel his release soak your walls, slowly leaking out of you. His body collapsed onto yours, gripping your shoulders, taking shallow breaths.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him, pressing coy kisses to his face.

He rolled over and pulled you on top of him, still inside of you.

“You know, I’m never going to let you go now”, Bucky whispered in your ear, hands running down your back.

“You think I was going to let you?”

You said it teasingly, unaware of the deep rooted truth behind his statement. You were his. Obsessively, thoroughly, whole-heartedly. He would slaughter anyone who dared to cross his relationship with you.

His sweet, little bartender.

AN: thank you guys so much for all the love! My requests are open, so feel free to drop any ideas you have and I’ll do my best!

TAGLIST;

@melsunshine @scott-loki-barnes @differenttyphoonwerewolf @mrsevans90 @kandis-mom @blairbibi @pattiemac1 @urmom222 @km-ffluv @casa-boiardi @vicmc624 @stinkerbelle007 @londonalozzy @blackhawkfanatic @urfavnoirette

#mob bucky #mob bucky x reader #bucky x reader #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky au #bucky barnes x reader

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yanaleese · 7 months

Text

◈ Love Me, Kidnap Me, and Love Me More ◈

Yandere! OC Karma x Calculative! Gender Neutral! MC

VER EN ESPAÑOL. MUY PRONTO

Synopsis: You put blood, sweat, and tears into your work. Little did you know, your secret admirer, Marka does it too.

Content warning: Yandere and literally anything that goes with it, violence, hypnosis (not on reader), drugs (implication), and yes there will be a Part 2

PLEASE SUPPORT PALESTINE WITH MONEY, OR WITH A CLICK

Scores, talents, personas.

THESE are the factors that classify the education system. Although not immaculate, it serves its purpose - to send vulnerable people into the workforce, and devour them whole. Their livelihoods, their time, and the minuscule bits of energy left inside of them.

But there are some who are born with advantages, and some who have to work their ass off for it.

I, unfortunately, have the latter. Things don’t come easy, instant, or perfect. I am actually quite idle, I enjoy the freedom of gaining knowledge and insight. Uniquely, tried and tested knowledge that is critical for survival.

And that, is how I manage my late nights. By listening to “Advice to Survive” with its host, McGregory Callahan.

Back in the 60s, he was a CWO-4 Navy Seal officer, a rank given to an exclusive few. And now that he’s retired, he humbly shares his advice to the community, and showcases guests every now and then to keep the show alive. But majority prefers to listen to his voice, which I strongly agree with.

“And so, ladies and gents…” His voice was smooth and husky. “It’s time to sign off, folks. Stay safe, and always remember…” I chuckled, saying his closing lines with him.

“Live, not die, and try to survive. Thanks everyone.”

As the radio chipped off, the sun poured its rays into my window, as if the heat wasn’t enough. I groaned, my eyes leading me to my collection of “wake-up” capsules. Tempted, and deceived, I slithered my way over to it, dropping another 2 or 3 in my mouth.

I grumbled. Regret seeped into my veins, my body woozy and tense. Once again, I stayed up.

And of course, it happened to be a Monday morning; where I had a morning class. “Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw.” I began stuffing my bag with my utensils, paperwork, snacks. I could never get used to this shit. “I hope nobody pisses me off for the rest of the day.”

◈

“The bell. Ugh, the damn bell. Never have I wanted to smash that thing into pieces.” You could barely make out the crowd, more or less. Not even your best friend’s face.

“Wait. You had a rough night…again?” Heidi glared, her eyes were practically glowing with concern.

“Maaaaaaybe.” You slurred, taking baby steps to your seat. “Good thing my seat mate is a quiet kid.”

Speak of the devil, Marka entered the room, his footfalls silent as he strolled to your direction. His timing was impeccable.

“Good morning, Marka.” You mumbled, your eyes not meeting his. Besides, there were no eyes thanks to his bangs.

“Heh…” In response, Marka gave an exciting grin, happily waving a good morning back to you. How he could be energized on a Monday morning, was a complete mystery to you.

Actually, a lot of him is shrouded in mystery. Or rather, in suspicion.

Other than the weird name, Marka was supposedly from the countryside of Honduras, Tegucigalpa. His parents were also from Honduras, and he worked as a pizza delivery driver, and stayed at a friend’s apartment for shelter, with the purpose of redoing college thrice to get a degree. While some of this is true, some of it didn’t add up.

For example, his idioms. Sometimes he would say “Puchica” , “Chero”, “Chivo” - and when I looked them all up, the common denominator was El Salvador. He said his parents came from Honduras, so how can this be true?

“[Y/N].”

Then him, being the pizza delivery driver. You don’t often order pizza, but you’ve never thought that pizza could smell so shitty. You could remember him rushing to one of your afternoon classes, and instead of smelling like oil and grease, he smelt like weed. What the fuck???

“Hello? [Y/N]?”

Plus, the fact that he is redoing the course a third time. And yet, every single exam he is perfectly scoring an average mark. He also ends before everyone else, as if he has all the time in the world.

That’s not normal.

Though you’ve never confronted Marka about this, you preferred to remain silent. Times are harsh, and you weren’t willing to stretch out a hand when you could barely help yourself.

But there is NO way that you’re befriending someone as suspicious as him.

“[Y/N]!!!” Heidi whisper-shouted, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“[Y/N], please answer-“ Mr. Dimmy paused, clearing his throat. “Actually. On second thought, please see me after class. Thank you.”

You bit my lip, letting it bleed. Fuck. You spaced out again.

“Sir I-“

“No buts, no coconuts.”

While cursing yourself internally, you decided to take out your vent book out of your bag, only to be stopped by Mr. Dimmy once more.

“[Y/N]. Can you please answer the question on the board for me, please?”

Shit, you just opened your bag.

“Give me a moment-“

“[Y/N].”

Clenching your fists, you gave a plastic smile. It was understandable where he was coming from, since he didn’t want his star pupil to daydream for the second time.

“My bad, Sir. Hopefully I’ll get this right.”

As you were busy solving the equation, Marka decided to do you a favor and close up your bag. So by the time you came back, Marka grinned, hoping for a thanks to come out of it. But you decided to ignore the kind gesture, continuing to pay attention to the board. You had enough attention for one day.

◈

If there was one thing you loved, it was clocks. It was nice to know how the time passed, whether it was rapid or abnormally slow. And of course, it was slow.

“[Y/N], this has happened on multiple occasions.” Mr. Dimmy rubbed his temples, exhausted from having the same conversation with you. “We, as staff, made it clear that you can take days off.”

“I’m very sorry Sir, but I can’t do that-“

“[Y/N], enough with the excuses. You are not enough getting enough sleep, and it’s affecting your concentration.”

Scores, talents, personas: nothing on this conversation applied to that. Kindness was a pain in the ass.

“And so, I’m going to ask the dean to personally give you a suspension. A whole week suspension.”

You had to hold your tongue. Why do you have to do triple the work???

“Sir. I’m behind on what I need to cover. I’m begging you, please just let it slide.”

“But [Y/N], you are three weeks ahead. Taking a week off is enough right now. Trust me.”

You glanced at the clock. It was 9:47, the minute hand approximately reaching the next minute.

“If I see you Tuesday afternoon, I will personally escort you outside. That is all.”

Rubbing your eyes, you ran to the top of the stairs, before making yourself out. You couldn’t believe what just happened.

“[Y]-[Y/N]…” It was Heidi.

“Heidi. I’m done for the day, so I’m going home. Text me later if you’re curious.” Your demands were quick and stern.

Poor Heidi snuggled her books, her expression shaping into pity and guilt. If only you could just take a break.

◈

“Giggles, after giggles. These fucking cuches don’t know when to quit it, don’t they?”

“Markaaaa…” She snorted, sounding exactly just like he called her: a pig. “Teach me a little Spanish, no?~ ❤️”

Marka shook his head, his face clearly showing discomfort.

“Come on, we wanna hear it! Maybe we can fuck it up, you know?”

Damn that Rico bastard. He never knew how to read a room.

“I said no.” Marka ran his fingers through his bangs, revealing the swirling darkness within his eyes. “Now learn to be good little shits, I’m in a bad mood.”

Immediately, the entire group stood completely still. Before seconds later, horrifying shrieks escaped people’s lips. Some froze in horror, sweating profusely. Others just ran away from Marka, while some fought with him. Luckily, thanks to his physique he could handle his attackers pretty clearly.

“Ha…shame…” He continued to hit Rico with every punch, starting to see blood oozing out of him. Marka couldn’t help but grin in sadistic glee. “This hypnosis is always pure luck for me.”

Grabbing the leg of one of his classmates. Marka twisted, fractured, and even jumped on her leg, which was perfectly in sync with his words.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.” Marka cursed out loud, growling in frustration. Every time he thought about you, the feeling wouldn’t go away. “I just wanted to do a good deed. Why. Won’t. They. Love. Me.”

Hearing the classmate’s sharp cry, Marka kicked the person away from him, heading to your locker. It was encased in a shitload of locks, all of them personally made by yourself. You knew how to be efficient and useful.

Too bad Marka knew lockpicking a bit too well. “It’s been a while since my last rejection…so let’s see what’s here now-“

With a clink, he guided his fingers to first few letters he made….only to find them….

Crushed.

“….”

He should’ve been used to this by now. The dust, the grime, the dead spiders. After finally getting a fresh new locker, it was understandable that you cleaned up the space.

But you didn’t. You decided to make your old locker your new dumpster bag instead - including his love letters.'

His scarred thumb clutched the pink envelope, or the crushed up ball that it was. He could remember the time he had to go off on business, missing college for an entire week. He had to stay low due to a shot out, which resulted him gaining a major injury in the shoulder and his left hand. He didn’t mind the injuries due to past experiences, but he was…depressed. Marka couldn’t see anyone, neither be online lest he got found out. It was a decision that both he and José made for his safety.

And so, to satiate his loneliness, he wrote to you. Even though his left hand was twitching in pain, he wrote. Even though his brain was telling him to stop because of the pain; he wrote. He wrote because he knew that you gave him the happiness, the hope that he needed for this world. Yes, you were flawed…but with each other, the two of you could heal one another’s scars. Right?

“….Ha….”

His hands shook in silent rage as dark droplets dropped on to the paper. I’m sure you didn’t know any better, it was simply a misunderstanding. Yes, yes - it was miscommunication.

It was understandable, since he didn’t make it clear. He didn’t flirt with you since it wasn’t your thing. I guess the letters weren’t either.

Maybe he’d have to try something…a bit more drastic.

“I need to know…do they love me…? Do they not? Maybe….”

Clutching the paper in his chest, he started chuckling to himself. No, grinning madly as he stared at the locker in front of him, his face contorted into something twisted and grotesque.

“Maybe it’s time I should pay your house a visit, hmm? ❤️~.”

NOTES:

Cuche = Means pig in Salvadorian slang. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏ qᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴋᴀʀᴍᴀ, ᴊᴏsᴇ́ ᴏʀ ʜᴇɪᴅɪ ғᴇᴇʟ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴍʏ ɪɴʙᴏx.

#karma #karma imagines #qc #karma lore??? not rly #i mean....I wouldn't say karma lore. Maybe Karma imagine?#yeah cause this relies on probability...so.#male yandere #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere blog #yancore #yandere male #yande.re #yandere boy #yandere mafia #yandere x male darling #yandere x darling

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sturnzyolo · 3 months

Text

I love you, I'm sorry.

Matt Sturniolo x Fem reader

Summary: "Guys & Girls can never just be friends" I used to think that was a lie, until I met you.

WARNINGS: love confession, bestfriends, fluff, kissing, lying, crying?, etc.

Matt & I have been bestfriends since middle school. It all started when I asked to borrow a calculator. Once I handed it back, he asked for help on the work, & as I tutored Matt, we connected more & more. He turned into my closest friend, the one person I could tell everything to, the only person I wanted by my side throughout it all.

Everything was the same for years, every morning Matt would pick me up and take me to school with his brothers, everday he would walk me to each class, he would eat lunch with me, and he would drive me back to his house to hangout before walking me back home.

Everyday was the same yet so different. I was close with Matt's whole family, but nobody could beat my bond with Matt. He was all I needed in life.

I always assumed life would continue this way until we all inevitably had to split, but I didn't see that happening anytime soon. They were like my family. Most people would think a girl can't be friends with guys without there being some kind of feelings or connection between them. I always denied that, I never pictured Matt in that way. He was my bestfriend, nothing more.

January 8th, 2024

I've noticed Matt start to hangout with me less and less, I had assumed he was just busy, especially with how his new YouTube career has been starting for the triplets. I was proud that they were going after their dreams, but I was a bit sad that I saw him less than usual.

I thought about this as I was getting ready for school, I wondered if it could be more than him just being busy.

My clouded mind soon cleared at the sound of my phone's notification, I quickly put down my makeup brush and picked up my phone to read the message.

(yes I got a whole app to do fake messages AND WHAT ABT IT.)

I was in slight shock to read the message, Matt always took me to school no matter what. The only times he didn't was for therapy but he hasn't gone before school in awhile.

I tried to not show him how much I cared about the change he's been showing. He was never so distant from me. Did I do something wrong? Was something going on with him? I let my mind run on the possibilities for what I had done for him to be treating me so much differently from before.

I got to school by walking since I was still saving up for my own car. I waited for Matt at the front doors, since we always walked from class to class together. He never showed, he must've went in through the back or gotten here before me. I went to each class alone or with any of my girl friends, although Nick took me to Spanish class. I was too scared to ask him about his brother's new behavior.

January 26th, 2024

Matt's act kept up for more than 2 weeks, I saw him and spoke to him less and less everyday. I didn't want to lose him like this, I didn't want to have to forget about him in a way that felt like I was forced to. I was honestly fed up with it, so I decided that I needed to text him, right now.

(you barely even look in my direction*) sorry guys I didn't see the error before

I rolled my eyes and slammed my phone screen down with a frustrated huff. It felt pointless even attempting to have a real conversation with Matt, and it was exhausting.

I watched the pouring rain outside my window. My thoughts wandered for atleast a half hour about Matt, I couldn't understand what went wrong, and I wanted to know so badly. All I wanted was my bestfriend again and he couldn't even have one genuine conversation with me.

My conflictions were abruptly cut short when a loud knock on my door came, at first I didn't want to even get up. It was probably some stupid sales person. Another knock came, I flipped over and looked at my phone 12:47 am who the fuck would be at my door this late!?

my question was quickly answered with a yell after another knock "Y/n please open up, it's Matt, come on its pouring" his voice made me quickly get up in disbelief as I ran downstairs.

I unlocked and slowly opened the door to see Matt in a disheveled state, his eyes were a light pink while his eyebags were swollen, his nose was red, his hair was wet and his clothes were drenched.

"Hey, look can I just come in, please?" Matt asked softly with a slight break of his voice, circling around the reason he was here

"You were just being a complete asshole, no, why are you even here, go home" I was upset and clearly didn't want to talk to him at all but seeing him like this hurt.

"Please y/n/n, I walked all the way here just to talk to you, just let me in." He pleaded with a sniffle from his nose

"Oh, so I have to let you in, when you don't even let me? You've been acting like a completely new person, you shouldn't be here, I mean you did say your life is more than just me." I said in an argumentative tone as I held my ground with a cold gaze over to him

"No, no, please y/n I didn't mean that, you know I didn't. I know I've been an asshole but.. I can't keep lying to myself, and lying to you. I couldn't see you and talk to you because it was destroying me y/n/n." Matt muttered with stumbles over his words, he anxiously fiddled with his fingernails.

"Why, what did I do? What have you been lying about, because it's been killing me, you've been a dick to me and have been treating me like I'm nothing, so what the fuck did I do to deserve that!?" I said angrily with my tone growing louder

"Nothing! Nothing y/n, you're perfect to me. you make me utterly speechless sometimes but it kills me that I can't have you. I know you've never seen me as more as just your bestfriend, but I love you, y/n. I'm in love with you, I know it sounds fucking crazy, but I can't stop thinking about you, I was lying saying my life is more than just you, because you're all I need in my life other than my family, and I can't even breathe when I'm not around you, it feels like I'm fucking suffocating. You're my bestfriend, but I can't help to want more. I love you, I'm sorry if that's so wrong, but no matter what you say I will continue to love you, because there isn't a bone in my body that isn't dying for you to love me back." Matt spoke in one whole breath, almost yelling as he confessed. His chest rose and fell heavily waiting for my answer

MATT POV

I looked at y/n as my eyes filled with tears, her face was in disbelief as her eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted. 'God she's beautiful' I thought as my eyes traveled her face while I breathed heavily. I needed her to say something, anything. I felt like an idiot in this silence, I could ruin everything because of this, I had loved her since the first moment I laid eyes on her but I knew I could never have her in the way I wanted, so I settled for what I had. I just couldn't take lying to her anymore, so I pushed her away, but I needed to tell her, I needed to give her a real reason, even if it ended horribly.

Her lips clasped together again as she seemed to finally had formed a sentence for me, while she straightened her eyebrows slightly. Her soft gazed eyes looked into mine as my breath hitched quietly, then they went down to my lips, causing my face to falter even more.

Her actions were quick as she stepped out of her front door, joining me in the rain before wrapping her fingers into the back of my wet hair. She pulled my head down softly before she kissed me. Her lips were so soft and her touch could make me melt, I didn't even hesitate for a second to kiss her back. I wanted this moment to last forever, my hands gently snaked to hold either side of her waist.

I groaned as she slowly parted from the kiss

Y/N POV

I barely even processed his words as my body took control, I eventually found myself in a deep passionate kiss with my bestfriend. It felt amazing, his lips had a faint taste of pineapple, his lips and hair were both so soft. His hands around my waist felt so right. I parted from the kiss slowly before looking up into his eyes, his gaze still pleading with me for more even after his needy groan.

"Matt, I love you too. I always will, in whatever way you need it to be, I'm yours." I soundlessly admitted before his hand moved up to carefully grab my cheek as he pulled me in to kiss him again, the rain poured onto us as he swept me off my feet.

The kiss didn't break for even a split second as my legs wrapped around his waist tightly. He walked me into my house, neither of us cared about the puddling leading into my home as he closed the front door behind us. He carried me upstairs to my bedroom that we've been in together hundreds of times, yet this one was so much different. The kiss broke for a minute to catch our breath as he closed and locked my bedroom door, he sat back on my bed while I sat on his lap.

He moved a piece of my hair out of my face that had fallen due to the small impact from my bed. "Y/n I've wanted this for so long, and I promise I will do everything to never mess this up because all I want to do is to love and cherish you the way you deserve. Please y/n, can you please be my girlfriend" He practically begged me, even with his puppy eyes staring into mine

"I would love nothing more Matt, I'd be more than lucky just to be your girlfriend." I answered as I held his face in my palms delicately as if he were fragile. his smile grew before he licked his lips smoothly and kissed me once more.

I never knew I loved my bestfriend, not like this, but now the only thing I could feel, was my love for him, and I didn't want this feeling to end, not now, not ever. I was yours, Matthew Sturniolo, forever and always.

I wrote this in 1 day guys oml, anyways this will be similar to the future Chris childhood bestfriends to lovers but that one will have sm more detail and angst to it, I promise. I want to esp take my time with that one to make it more meaningful but I hope you guys enjoy this one. Part 3 of Shadows will be coming out sometime today aswell, I just need to finish it. Sorry the end to this was kinda corny but I'm trying to get better with my dialogue 😔

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libraryofgage · 8 months

Text

The Prince and the Metalhead

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse One (you're here!)

Despite the title, this series will focus a little more on Steve growing up in Genovia for the first few parts. That being said, there will be Steddie because this whole thing was inspired by my desire to write a modern royalty AU.

So, ya know, it's coming lol

For now, just enjoy Steve being raised by our favorite queen.

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

------

Clarisse stares at the two-story house from the driveway. It looks incredibly...American. It's American in a way that Amelia's home and city aren't. This house is the Ideal American Home, the kind people are told is the goal in life, the kind with no personality and no distinguishing features compared to other houses on its street. It's the kind of house she'd never see in Genovia, and she's glad for it.

"Your Majesty," Joe says, pulling her attention from the house to her driver. "If you are nervous, may I suggest returning another day?"

She knows exactly what he's doing. It still works. She still pulls herself together, rolls her shoulders back, and raises her chin. "A queen is never nervous. She is simply calculating her approach."

With that, she opens the door and gracefully (the kind of grace that comes with years of practice) steps out of the car. She smooths down her clothes, takes one more deep breath, and strides to the front door. Joe is just a step behind her, always a step behind her, as she rings the doorbell and waits.

A few moments pass, the blinds in the window next to the door shift, and then the door is pulled open. A young boy, certainly no more than ten, stands before her, looking nervously between Clarisse and Joe.

And could you blame Steve? The only visitors he gets when his parents are gone are secretaries that sweep into the home, make sure he's alive, and leave right after. Nobody rings the doorbell, nobody knocks, and nobody knows he's alone in the big house, just like his parents told him it should be.

"Hello," the lady says, her accent vaguely European and similar to his father's. "Are you Steve Harrington?"

If she knows his name, maybe she's been sent by his parents. She looks fancy enough, and the guy with her looks scary enough. Steve grips the door tighter and nods once. "Yes, ma'am," he says, his voice soft and barely a whisper so he doesn't upset her.

"Good. Is your father home?"

"No, ma'am."

That makes her pause, her lips tugging down in a frown, and Steve wonders if he's already failed whatever test this must be. His father will give them sometimes, in the rare moments he's home, and it's always to measure how polite Steve his, how proper, how cultured. This must be a new kind of test, a way for his father to further measure him. He gathers himself, takes a subtle breath, and asks, "Would you like to come in?"

"You don't know who we are," the man suddenly says. "Why are you inviting us in?"

Oh. He's failing this test already. Steve bites his lip, ducking his head. "It's polite to invite people in," he says. "But, um, could you tell me your names first?"

He glances up to see that frown on the lady's face deepen, and his stomach starts to churn. "Yes, of course," she says, clearing her throat before continuing, "I am Clarisse Renaldi, and this is Joe."

Steve looks between the two of them before slowly nodding. "Please, come in," he says, holding the door open. The two adults are hesitant but enter the home anyway, watching Steve as he shuts the door silently and locks it. "This way, please."

He leads them to the living room, looks at the books and papers spread on the coffee table, and blushes. "I'm sorry for the mess," he says, quickly sweeping everything off the coffee table and holding it close to his chest. "I was doing homework and didn't expect visitors. Please, sit. I'll get some tea."

With that, he turns on his heel and hurries out of the living room. He presses his back against the wall, eyes closed and heart racing as he listens to the man and woman talk. "He's very polite," the woman says, sounding pleased and surprised.

"Too polite," the man replies, "What ten year old says things like expecting visitors and offers to make tea?"

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat and hurries to the kitchen. He puts his papers and books on the small table there, climbs the stool in front of the sink to fill a kettle with water, and then climbs the stool in front of the stove to place it down. He turns on the burner, watching the flames jump before getting cups, a teapot, tea leaves, and a tray to place it all on.

In total, the process from heating the water to pouring it over the leaves in the pot and carrying that to the living room is no more than eight minutes. It still feels like an eternity, though, when Steve knows each second is a mark against him. "I'm sorry for making you wait," he says as he enters the living room, carefully placing the tray on the coffee table. He pours a cup for the woman first, then the man, and then himself, careful not to spill a drop.

"Did you make this yourself?" the woman asks, picking up her teacup and taking a polite sip.

When Steve nods, he gets a tiny smile in return. And then the man says, "Aren't you a little young to do these things?"

Steve has been taught how to answer questions like this, ones that imply his parents aren’t doing enough to raise him. He picks up his teacup, holding it in his hands and letting the warmth transfer to his palms. “I like making tea,” he says, keeping his voice steady, “so Mother taught me how to use the stove safely.”

Joe looks ready to say more, but Clarisse clears her throat. He shuts his mouth, picking up his own cup just to do something. “When should we expect your father, Steve?” Clarisse asks, placing her teacup back on its plate. She’s seated on the edge of the couch, her ankles tucked together so her legs are at a slant and her back perfectly straight.

He can’t lie. If they stay, they’ll know he’s lying when his father doesn’t return. Maybe they just want to see his father, and Steve can let them think his mother will be home soon and convince them to leave before she is. He decides this is a good plan and says the extremely familiar words, “He’s away on a business trip.”

That earns him a frown, but before he can try to fix his mistake, Clarisse nods once and asks, “What about your mother, then?”

Steve tenses, dropping his gaze to his teacup and scrambling to find an answer. He swallows around the nervous lump in his throat, takes a sip of his tea, and feels his stomach twist when he still doesn’t have anything to say in response.

“How long have your parents been gone?” Joe asks.

The question pierces through him so harshly that Steve’s hands twitch, tea splashing over the edges of the cup and onto his fingers. He hisses at the temperature, quickly setting the cup down and getting a tissue to wipe the tea away.

“What do you mean gone?” Clarisse asks.

“There are no cars in the driveway and no adult shoes by the door. We passed the kitchen on the way here, and only one set of dishes is in the drying rack. Stools have been placed wherever a child might need to reach something too high for them otherwise. Dust is on the shelf with adult books, but the smaller shelf with movies appropriate for children is clean, implying regular use. Finally, my men have informed me that Mr. and Mrs. Harrington boarded a plane headed for Hong Kong from London.”

Steve’s eyes widen as Joe speaks, his stomach twisting ever tighter with each word. When Clarisse looks back at him, his eyes begin to sting and he looks down at his lap. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice quiet as he clenches the hem of his shirt.

“What on Earth are you apologizing for?” Clarisse asks, sounding so insulted that Steve shrinks in on himself. “You are not to blame for your parents’ incompetence and negligence. Of all the things your father has done, abandoning you to fend for yourself is unforgivable.”

Oh. She’s…angry for him? Steve looks up, meeting Clarisse’s eyes and wondering why she cares. And then, because he thinks she can’t possibly be any angrier, he takes a risk by asking, “Why are you here?”

Clarisse pauses, blinks twice, and then gathers herself. Her shoulders relax some, but her back remains straight. “I am Clarisse Renaldi, Queen of Genovia, and your grandmother.”

Steve stares at her, glances at Joe to see if this is some kind of joke, and then looks back when all he gets in return is a blank stare. “My…grandmother?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“Yes. Your father, Richard Harrington, is my son. He was…well, he involved himself in troublesome schemes and had to leave Genovia and the line of succession. We keep tabs on him, of course, but all contact is otherwise restricted.”

None of that surprises Steve. He’s heard his father complaining when he has a bit too much whiskey, muttering under his breath about betrayal and being forced from his home and that it was only a few million he took.

“I…still don’t know why you’re here.”

“Yes, well, the Crown Prince of Genovia has recently passed, and you are next in the line of succession. So, I traveled here to meet you and bring you back to Genovia for a proper education befitting a Crown Prince.”

Steve is staring at his lap again, his mind turning. So much information has been given to him, and he can only focus on the part that makes his heart speed up with hesitant hope. “Would…would my parents go with us?” he asks.

“Your father is still barred from Genovia. Your mother is welcome, though.”

“Does she have to go with us?”

He looks up in time to see Clarisse pause, tilting her head as she considers him for a moment. “No, Steve, neither of your parents must accompany us,” she says.

“Will I ever be alone?”

“The royal family employs upwards of 300 staff to keep the palace running smoothly,” Joe says, nodding once to confirm that number when Steve gives him an incredulous look.

“Members of staff will be assigned to you as well,” Clarisse adds, smiling softly when Steve returns his attention to her. “At least three maids, several private tutors, at least one playmate for social development, and a personal team of security to keep you safe.”

Something lifts from Steve’s shoulders then. He’s not stupid. He knows his parents aren’t good. He learned that last year when he realized that other kids’ parents picked them up from school and gave them hugs and surprised them with pizza nights and just smiled at them. Steve looked at those parents, thought of his own, and quietly accepted that they either sucked or he just hasn’t figured out what will make them love him yet.

A tiny part of him knows that nothing will.

“Will you be my new mother, then?” Steve asks.

He watches Clarisse’s surprised expression morph into something unsure. “I will certainly be taking on a parental role,” she says, the words slow.

Steve looks down again, trying to ignore the disappointment that stirs in him when he realizes she’s just trying to spare his feelings. She won’t be a mother; she’ll be like his teacher. She’ll be someone who makes sure he learns what he should, eats when he should, and passes him along to the appropriate person when there’s a problem.

Still, she’s nicer than his own parents, and Steve won’t be alone if he goes to Genovia. If nothing else, it will be better than this empty house and his absent parents. “If I packed right now, can we leave?” he asks.

When Clarisse agrees, Steve excuses himself and goes to his room.

Once he’s out of sight, Clarisse looks at Joe and says, “He’s a very mature child.”

“He shouldn’t be.”

Clarisse nods once in agreement, looking down at the teapot in front of them and wondering if Steve has ever burned himself on it. “I believe he’ll take to being royalty well,” she says.

When she looks up, Joe is frowning. “If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?” he asks. When Clarisse nods, he clears his throat. “Before he can be royalty, he needs to be a child. For his own good, he needs a parent, not someone taking on a parental role. You may not be his mother, Your Majesty, but you are his grandmother. You have the ability to give him the unconditional care and love he’s been deprived of so far.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Clarisse admits, frowning slightly in thought. “I just…”

“You are worried he will be like his father.”

“Yes.”

“He is not his father. You cannot project the wrongdoings of Richard onto Steve. It is unfair to him and you. He deserves a fresh start, one that is not burdened by his father.”

“I will think on it,” Clarisse says, already knowing she’s going to do as Joe has suggested. “In the meantime, look into parenting books. If nothing else, Steve’s maids and tutors can review their contents as he grows.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

--------------

Genovia is small, but the palace is huge. It towers over Steve like something out of a Disney movie, and he almost falls behind during the brief tour through its halls. He manages to catch up, though, meeting Clarisse’s stride just in time for her to gesture at a set of double-doors and say, “Beyond these will be your rooms.”

“Rooms?”

“Yes, more than one,” Clarisse says, smiling down at Steve as she leads him past the doors and into a sitting room. A group of people are already gathered there. Most of them are adults, but a few younger children are playing with a Lego set in the corner and a girl and boy his age are standing with the adults. “These are your personal staff members.”

Before Steve can say anything, one of the women steps forward, her smile warm and her face framed by her brown hair. “It’s nice to meet you, Your Highness. My name is Joyce. I’ll coordinate your schedule and make sure your rooms are taken care of. My husband, Jim, will be the head of your security team, and my eldest son, Jonathan, will be one of your playmates,” she says, pointing to her husband and then the boy his age.

“Feel free to call me Hopper, Your Highness,” her husband says.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jonathan adds, smiling politely in a way that Steve painfully understands as fake and forced.

Joyce steps back, and a black woman steps forward. “My name is Sue. I’ll be in charge of your education. That means I’ll be arranging your tutors, making sure your lessons match what a child your age should be learning, and overseeing your Royal Education with Her Majesty. My husband, Charles, will be your science tutor.”

Steve glances at Charles when he waves and nods in greeting. His smile, at least, seems more genuine than Jonathan’s was, and Sue is so straightforward that Steve finds it refreshing.

The last woman steps forward. She’s a little heavier than the other two, and she’s wearing an apron that has stains smeared across it. “Wonderful to meet you, Your Highness. I’m Claudia. I’ll be in charge of your diet and medical needs. If you’re allergic to anything or just plain hate certain foods, let me know.”

She steps back, leaving only the young girl. With a grin, she moves to stand in front of Steve and holds her hand out. “Name’s Robin,” she says, “I’m supposed to be your friend, but Her Majesty and I’ve got an agreement that I can ditch you if you suck. If I stick around, I’ll be trained by Hopper to be your personal guard.”

It’s so sudden and blunt that Steve can’t stop his grin as he takes Robin’s hand and shakes once. “To make things fair,” he says, “I should get to ditch you, too.”

Her eyes light up, and Steve thinks he’s done something right, which is an odd but welcome feeling. She lets go of his hand but stays by his side, standing close enough that their shoulders brush as Clarisse gestures for Joyce to take over the tour. He’s introduced to the children playing with Legos first, bombarded with their names (Dustin, Will, El, Lucas, and Erica) and which parents they belong to, before moving on to the rooms.

In total, he has five: the sitting room, a classroom, a small library, an empty room that he can do whatever he’d like with, and his bedroom. The bedroom has its own bathroom with a shower attached, but there are extra bathrooms in the other rooms, too. He’d count his closet as another room entirely, but he’s not ready to admit he really has six rooms.

He’s still too overwhelmed by the giant bed and the rooms that all belong to him and this group of people that will always be around him. He turns to Clarisse, ready to thank her, when she smiles at him and says, “There is one more thing.”

Something else? There’s more? What more could there possibly be? What else could he be given? Steve watches as she walks to the door that leads into the bathroom, steps inside, and comes back out holding something that squirms slightly in her arms.

She quickly deposits the thing in Steve’s arms, and he stares wide-eyed at the Rottweiler puppy that starts sniffing at his hands and neck. “What?” he asks.

“She’s yours, Steve. Rottweilers are very loyal dogs, so she’ll stay by your side. They’re also loyal and protective. Once she’s grown, she’ll keep you safe, too.”

“What am I then, chopped liver?” Robin asks, pouting slightly as she looks at the dog. She leans closer to it and yelps when she gets licked.

Steve can’t help laughing, holding the dog closer to his chest. “Does she have a name?” he asks.

“Yeah! It’s Dart!”

Steve looks over his shoulder at Dustin, meeting his curly hair and slightly gummy smile. Next to him, Claudia flushes slightly and hurriedly says, “You don’t need to listen to him, Your Highness. You can name her whatever you’d like.”

“No, I think Dart is good,” Steve replies, looking down at the dog and gently scratching behind her ears. She perks up, her entire body wiggling with excitement, and Steve feels something hopeful and optimistic settle in his chest.

--------

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added to future parts!)

@y4r3luv

#congrats #stranger things fic #princess diaries crossover #steve harrington #queen clarisse renaldi #future steddie #modern royalty au #robin buckley #the party stranger things #the party's parents too #my writing #Clarisse gives Steve a dog specifically so he'll never be alone btw cuz she doesn't want him to feel alone again #also please imagine dick harrington just getting home to one of Joe's security team being like also you're still banned

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firefly--bright · 8 months

Text

strangers.

✩‧₊˚☾

masquerade chapter one.

jean kirstein x fem!reader, regency a.u.

chapter summary ; how it all began.

chapter warning ; familial issues/abandonment, running away.

a/n ; im trying out a different writing style to match the theme of this au!! :') I don't think it's going that well, so constructive criticisms are always welcome. also lmk if I should continue in this style or just go back to my normal one!! :)

taglist ; @mrsnobodynobody @jeanscremebrulee @holding-infinity-and-a-book @happxme

☾ series masterlist ☾ main masterlist ☾ enter my taglist ☾

✩‧₊˚☾

the ackermans, despite their precedence, were kind to you. as much as they could find it in themselves to be.

their name was attached to authority and harshness; something you hadn't been a stranger to since birth, despite not being one of them yourself - a reality nobody let you forget. but then again, you wouldn't want to forget.

the late january nights were cooling on your cheeks, even as you were stationary, sat on a bench that was illuminated solely by one lantern. it would've been dangerous if you weren't cloaked, hiding your figure from the eyes of the rare strangers that crossed your view from time to time, no doubt for a smoke break, trying to escape their realities.

you didn't blame them. you were doing the same thing as well, sketching out the picture in front of you - a sleeping ginger cat. peacefully, it's belly heaved upwards, then down as it dreamt. your pencil glided across the page, trying to capture its fur. you were, by no means, exceptional. not as great as the artists you would see when you'd sneak out to go to galleries with artists that were recognized, unlike your own pieces. marked off as "anonyomous", without a home but with a creator that painted like it did have one. a home, a place to go back to.

you rub the eraser dust away with your fingers, sinking into your seat, looking back up at your subject who was peacefully unaware of your observation.

"you're here again." a voice remarks.

you know this voice. you look to your right, where it's coming from. his own figure was hiding with a thick long coat, buttoned up till the top. a brown hat covered the top of his head, furling up and away from his forehead. the apples of his cheeks were tinted pink with the cold and his ash-brown hair peeked out from under his hat. his eyes were a halo of gold with the light of the lamp above you. you smile up at him.

"interesting subject tonight." you say, looking back at the cat. he turns to look at it too, humming. he takes a seat right beside you, keeping his own sketchbook in his lap, methodically, neatly. he looks into your sketchbook.

"you've made progress without me," he says. complains, really. it's endearing and you find yourself smiling.

"it's just practice, don't worry."

he scoffs. "I'm not worried." he says, lying straight through his teeth, flipping his sketchbook open to an untouched page.

his first mark is just like him - precise and calculated. you've noticed it, through the weeks you've known him, that his first line always remains. he may go back and erase other strokes, adjust some others, but the first one remained the same, unchanging. he hesitates before drawing it, however, twisting his pencil between the fingers of his left hand before his decision, like he's marking off a territory.

it's routine. you pretend to be asleep in clothes that you're still not quite used to, watch as Mikasa lights a candle, helping Eren up from her balcony windows, making sure that she is distracted with whispered, secret conversations with the man before sneaking out, heading to have your own whispered and secret life at night. most nights it's this - meeting this stranger with honeyed eyes and cleched jaw. he spoke only when prompted to, but it was worthwhile. if you were brave enough, you'd ask for his name. but you werent, and it seemed neither was he. he must be too recognizable in this place, too hard to ignore.

he's too hard to ignore right now as well, when you sit in silence and the only sounds you hear are the gentle scrapings of hard and soft led - the stranger liked more feathery charcoal - against rough parchment paper. your shoulders keep brushing with every stroke, as they did every time. it sends warmth through your body against the cold night, but you don't mention it in words. you're not sure you can, even if you were allowed to, you couldn't dare put it into words and let it be known and tangible.

the stranger sighs. "how did you do it?" he asks. his voice fogs up the air around his mouth.

you look at him. maybe the mystery around his being is why you feel the way you do around him. maybe if you know him, you'd feel less. but how much power can a name even posses? you know everything he'd allow you to, and for now it was enough. you knew that his favourite scent was that of the lavender oil that he'd dot on his collarbone on special occasions only because his best friend had told him to. you know that he did not care much for sweets, except those that his mother rarely made for him and his company, you knew that he had a scar on his ankle after having it be broken running away from a horse as a child, too scared to brave the act of riding one. everything he'd tell you, you'd hang on to like it was your purpose.

he's your friend. the first one you had made that you did not owe anything to.

"do what?" you ask him, tilting your head to one side. his eyes trail down to your unfinished sketch.

"make it feel alive." he asks, again, as his left hand sets his lead down on his lap in favour of feeling your page. you hum in thought as he touches your drawing's fur.

"do not think over it too much. layer, keep adding until it feels right." you say. you don't have much advice to give after doing art for so long. it feels like a muscle memory and not like the power that people would try to convince you it is. it doesn't feel like something you wield to create but something that you had known since you were born.

maybe you were born with it.

he shifts in his seat and his left hand rests on the back of the bench, behind your arms. not touching you, but enough for you to know that he is persistently there, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at his obvious attempt at being a flirt - another thing you had noticed. "it never works the way you make it work."

"blind flattery will not get you far," you tell him, looking at him in his eyes, and he stares back, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"i do not need to go far."

"clearly," you mutter.

he scoffs, falsely offended.

the night continues and so does the light banter and shared smiles.

he feels light. despite your surroundings being dark and clouded, despite there being several thousand things you should have been worrying about, he makes you feel like you are floating in the gently blowing wind.

you were a thing meant to be kept this gently. you were satisfied, greatly so, to be in his presence while doing the one thing you had truly enjoyed. a space that could not be destroyed, understanding without any transaction being made.

if only you could spend more time with him, like this, without his name, without your name, only the small differences that set you aside from everyone else. the two of you existed as mere symbols of each other, mere faces that knew and saw each other despite your last names, the people you were supposed to stand for.

you might've regretted spending all these late nights with the nameless stranger, considering the ungodly hour at which you had to wake up. just before the sun rises, you were required to do the same tasks that concerned your scarce colleagues. helping dry the clothes, helping make sure that everything was set for when Mikasa would eventually wake up to her own morning regrets, setting the soaps for her bath and ironing her dresses, laying out the jewellery she was to wear.

it suited her. you smoothed over her deep wine coloured dress, ridding it of any of its wrinkles, admiring how the colour would bring out her eyes that looked at you kindly under the guise of being indifferent. you'd been glad the day she found you - you were a teen, looking desperately for somewhere to belong to and you found her. crashed into her, really, because she was running away too. you still hadn't asked her what she'd been running away from, but one thing was for certain - taking a single look at her that day told you everything you needed to know - she was just like you. in the sense that she had the same, undeterred resolve of removing herself, finding escape in whatever obscurity she could find it in.

you had crashed into her, dropping the measly amount of bread in your hands on the ground on impact. it became dirtied with the heavy raindrops and mud almost immediately, and you would've berated her. you would've yelled and let out all your pent-up anger if it wasn't for the clothes she was wearing. they were wet but you could tell they were made from heavy material - a material that you had seen only important people wear. even if she tried covering the bottom half of her face with a washed-out red scarf, she looked like how she was supposed to look; the look you had decided to grow out of after running away. like a child.

scared and shivering, you led her to your meagre shelter with an arm around her shoulder, lighting up a small fire to keep her warm for the time being. you spent three days with her there. she left on the fourth day, and even though she hadn't told you about her decision to leave, you knew it would be inevitable.

what you didn't know was that she'd lead her cousin there, too. in your shelter - into the basement of an abandoned shop - the floors of which were scattered with paintbrushes and charcoals and empty tubes of paint. her family took you in and provided you of a newer, better shelter.

but you could not call it a home. it was not home. you never had one, you were sure of it.

the only drawback of this temporary... settlement, you should call it, was that you'd have to work for them. yes, the Ackermans weren't as harsh and cold as their reputation claimed, but that did not mean they were the kindest. surely a stranger could not be of the same rank as their own daughter, a fact you very well understood.

and Mikasa's spirit was as you had expected them to be after you had found her that day. she was stubborn over her softness, and made it abundantly clear that she did not wish for anyone else but you to be her handmaiden.

she is your best friend. but she is also your employer, a line you have to remember to tread lightly and carefully every day.

her drowsy voice calls you into her room from the bathing chambers.

wiping your hands on the skirt of your dress, you make your familiar way to her large room. you greet her squinting eyes with a smile, opening up the curtains to let the morning light in. the sun had made its way up into the sky as you finished your chores with its rays boring into the morning as it did every winter day. Mikasa didn't seem to appreciate it as much as you did, however, her hair unruly and unkept after tossing and turning all night.

"you'll feel less tired once you warm up a bit. i've already ran a bath for you," you tell her, and like clockwork, she lets her feet down on the ground from the bed, rubbing her wrist against her eye. she nods while doing it, letting you know that you are heard.

you strike a smile at her tired state, one that you relate to a little too well. you make your way towards her.

"here," you say, plucking up the hot cup of tea into your hands from her bedside. "this'll help you wake up. it's something new. Sir Arlert brought it for you. something about Doctor Yeager's remedy?" you say, knowing exactly what words to speak to bring her out of her dreamy state.

"Yeager?" she asks, her voice raspy. she takes the cup from your hand.

you know too well about her relations with the two boys. even if his post dubbed him to be "Sir", Armin Arlert was a man who could convince even the stoniest Ackerman to let Mikasa talk to him. even after the Yeager family was left desolate, the two boys never lost their nature, especially with Mikasa herself.

you hum at her question. "i think he called it...coffee? something along those lines. if it's bitter, I'll bring the sugar."

she takes a tentative sip and nods. "it's alright." she says. "thank you." there's a slight grimace on her face and you know what it says even if she doesn't say it; it's bitter, but it's tolerable.

Levi Ackerman wasn't as prude as people made him out to be. yes, he did have the look of a scoundrel who might've had daggers strapped into the inside of his coat, but you had wormed your way into his heart. you knew that for a fact because you had spilled milk on his cotton shirt and had, somehow, gotten away with it. all he did was mumble something under his breath, shaking his head before dabbing it away with a rag.

if it were anyone else, he would've led them to unemployment, but he didn't do so with you. he could have, it was within his right, but he didn't.

of course, you did make up for it. you went out into the darker parts of the town and purchased a small pouch of tea that helped with sleeplessness to help him ease his dark circles out. you knew of his issues with sleep, how he stayed awake into the wee hours of the night, roaming around like a ghost in his robes, reading a book that no-one knew the name of. you didn't know about what nightmares plagued him, but the tea you gave him seemed to help with that. instead of hearing his footsteps creaking on the wooden floors, you heard his sound snoring when you passed his room in the morning.

maybe it was because it was him that found you in that dingy basement along with Mikasa, helped coax you out of there, crouched infront of you and told you that you'd have a house to live in and a bed to sleep on if you follow him and Mikasa. maybe it was because he saw you grow up just like he saw his cousin grow up, from where you came to where you've reached. from wearing clothes that barely fit you, paint marks all over your face from pigment that wasn't safe for skin as sensitive as yours, to here. to clothes that you kept clean and ironed, pigments that you didnt let come near your face to prevent the rashes that you'd eventually get due to them.

you prepared his morning tea just the way he liked it, which was to say, only a dash of milk and no sugar. he wanted to taste as much tea as he could without diluting it, placing the cup on the tray along with all the other assortments.

you snuck a taste of the batter that the cook - Mr Berner - had prepared in advance as he frets over the cook of the eggs. Lord Ackerman, mikasa's stern father, deeply disliked uncooked yolks whereas Lady Ackerman disliked yolks that were solid throughout. thankfully, Kenny Ackerman bad gone hunting, and with any luck, would not be back until later in the evening. his hunting expeditions always extended to something else entirely, sometimes he'd return a little intoxicated. again, thankfully, he somehow managed not to raise any suspicions from anyone else.

"can you help with the juice if you can spare some time? Mrs Ackerman seems to be preferring it now-a-days." Mr Berner asks, turning his head to glance at you. you hum in agreement, helping the poor man by getting started on the orange juice. he has too much to do every day, with the kitchen being short staffed and new hires being dismissed due to silly mistakes that anyone in their shoes would make in their first week. Lord Ackerman had to be the cause of the hushed rumors that surrounded his family because of his last minute decisions made due to mild rage. if it weren't for his only child being on your side, you also would have met the same fate as the maid that left after not being able to remove the clothes from the rack fast enough before a thunderstorm.

in some ways, he reminded you of your own grandfather.

you finished up squeezing the juice our of the fruit as fast as you could before hurrying over to mikasa's bath, getting ready for her to get out.

luckily, she seemed more awake now as she accepted the towel being wrapped around her figure, heading to the closet.

"is there any more of that coffee?" she asks as you brush her hair.

"yes. it's kept aside just for you. was your talk with Mr. Yeager to your satisfaction last night?" you ask her, smiling at her through the mirror as she evades your eyes.

"it was. er- Mister Yeager is... nice." she says, small smile gracing her face that anyone else would've missed but you latch on to quickly.

"you might want to sleep earlier for a little while. so as to avoid suspicion," you say as she hums, playing with a string of her silky black hair. "i just miss him sometimes. after living next door to him for so long...." she reminisces.

"you got used to him?" you ask. in truth, you did not know much about the Yeager boy. all you knew was creditted to what you had gathered from over-hearing. something about his father running away, something about the legitimacy of his birth or lack thereof, something else about his brother forcing him and his mother to move to a more rural part of Paradis. what ever it may be, his life and his secrets and his stories, you hope he could find it in himself to be content. even if everything you heard was false, you knew all too well how a teen felt after being removed from their home with or against their will.

all you knew was that he made Mikasa happy. it didn't matter much to you about where he came from or how much wealth he possessed, all that mattered was that after the day was done, Mikasa could sleep with a smile on her face because of him.

Mikasa nods as an answer.

"his mother was kind to us. she'd make our favourite meals when we were tired after playing." she says, her smile more visible now. you smile back as you apply pigment to her cheeks, blending it out to be more natural, holding her cheeks in your hands after you were done. "beautiful."

she smiles and averts her eyes. "all thanks to you," she says, whispering.

you shake your head. "Lord Ackerman wants to see you." you tell her, remembering what he had asked. "seemed to be important." you say.

she sighs, getting up from her seat at the vanity. "sometimes I wish we could...live in a cottage." she says, smoothing out her dress with her hands, dusting off any stray hair or pigment. Lord Ackerman much preferred it when his family was well presented, even in the confines of their own home.

you smiled wider, indulging in her thoughts. this wasn't something new.

when you were only just getting accomadated to your living situation as a mere fifeteen year old, she'd find you, restless and preparing hot milk to rest better, trying to do the same for herself. you'd look at her with understanding, carrying two cups of milk and some cut up fruit up to her room, hiding under her covers, talking about an ideal life and why you'd like to lead it.

"I could steal some books for you from Smith's library," you tell her, and she breathes out a laugh. "and I'd steal you some good paints from Armin's parents." she says. a compelling case.

"and we'd have a cat. with a ginger coat."

"you know we can't possibly handle it,"

"two cats."

she laughs, a proper giggle this time, her hand coming up to cover her mouth with a fist. "alright. two cats."

"we'd grow catnip in our backyard."

"...I do not think that would work. as long as I get to read, I'll be alright."

Mikasa asked you to stay near the doorway of her father's study. you obliged, knowing that these 'talks' Lord Ackerman requested were more of a lecturing than anything. he prides himself in not being aggressive, but the passiveness of his voice and the looks he shoots his family over dinner for stepping out of an invisible, imaginary line prove otherwise. regardless, he doesn't raise his voice in spite of his anger or lack of it, and his presence in the house made you stand with your back pin-straight and chin bowed down. not because of the respect he so clearly demanded, but because of fear.

even now, standing right outside of his dark wooden door, his voice was nothing but a low hum, interrupted by mikasa's higher pitched voice. you could not eavesdrop even if you wanted to with the thick doors and his voice barely penetrating through them. sometimes you think that this house was built keeping in mind of this fact only - that the Ackerman family needed to keep any and all of their secrets locked up behind doors.

you played with the hem of the waistband on your skirt, digging it under your thumbnail and removing it before doing it again - a trait you had habituated since childhood. you used to do it with a silver necklace chained across the base of your neck, but now that necklace sat in a closed closet along with your other, more valuable belongings.

Mikasa steps out, opening the doors with ease, sighing after they're finally closed. you don't crowd her immediately; you know better than that. you know she needs space, so you keep your distance at a safe arm's length. but today was not like the other days this occured. no, because today, you felt it. the tension in the air, more so than usual, the back of your neck covered in light swear not due to working in the kitchen but due to being here, in this wide, cold corridor that held no windows, the air stiff.

and because, instead of asking for space, Mikasa opens her mouth to speak, as if it's a death sentence. you're sure it is.

"he has decided to marry me off."

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein x reader #aot #jean kirstein x you #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #jean kirschtein #mikasa ackerman #eren yeager #armin arlert #levi ackerman

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jpitha · 1 year

Text

The First Few Rows Will Get Wet

Just for a moment, it looked like everything was going to work out.

The Starjumper Remaining Grace was taken by surprise while headed to the research station Rear Window. Pirates had been spotted operating in the general area, but they were known to leave the research stations alone.

Three pirate ships - calling them ships was generous, they were hulks destined for the scrapyard mostly - descended upon Remaining Grace as they made preparations to link away. Most of the time, piracy is pointless between the stars. Any ship out there can just link to a new location and with no way to track a link, there's no point in attempting to pursue. Pirates tend to be a local problem, centering on centers of populace. Rear Window, Vertigo, and North By Northwest are all long distance observation stations a short link from the Starbase Rakish Swagger. Everyone - including the local authorities - assumed the Pirates were based out of Swagger, but nobody could prove it.

Grace was full of supplies and scientific equipment and so a target that the pirates could not pass up. As they attacked from above, Grace defended themselves.

"Two are coming in from 11 o'clock high, one is trying to sneak around to the rear!" Penny LaGrange calls out from the radar station. Grace runs a small crew, so everyone helps out with the roles. She isn't the radar operator, but she was closest to the station when the attack started.

Captain Kennison grips the arms of his chair tighter. "Grace, did you WEP the reactors? We need all three batteries going while being able to finish computing the link home." He doesn't bother with the whole lines about giving permission and telling Grace the order with which to make decisions, Remaining Grace is five times older than the whole crew put together, he assumes they know what they're doing."

"Aye Captain, we're at War Power and climbing. Primary, Secondary and Tertiary batteries are free and firing. Henry, where are we with those link coordinates?"

"Sorry Grace, working on it. The computer crashed, I had to restart it. We're calculating from zero again." Henry Smithfield is sitting at the other station, willing the computer to calculate faster.

It's just the three of them and Grace themselves. Small crews are pretty normal these days. An AI can honestly run an entire ship themselves and they often do. Having more hands helps though, especially when things get busy. Henry's station pings and he looks up, relieved. "We have coordinates! We can link away anyti-"

A ripple of heavy thumps interrupts his announcement. From the Command deck, an alarm can be heard quietly warning the crew that isn't in engineering.

"Lucky hit! Reactor 4 is venting and entering overspeed!"

Sweat beads on Captain Kennison's forehead. "Grace, can you dump it and we link away before it blows?"

"We're going to try. Henry, enter the coordinates and link away on my command!"

"You got it Grace, coordinates entered and ready."

"Aaaaaaand-" There was a loud booming clang as a door was flung open -"now-"

****

Captain Kennison came to consciousness slowly, painfully. What was going on? Why was he on the floor? "Huh, this carpet is nice" he thought, as his consciousness rose to prominence and he heard the muffled shouts of Remaining Grace "Captain Kennison! Captain Kennison!"

He sat up. "What is it Grace, did we link away? That was quite a hit."

"Yes Captain, it looks like we had a missile strike as soon as we opened the wormhole, it detonated as we linked away. I took a very hard hit. We have other problems right now though."

It was then that Peter Kennison heard a noise that he had never heard aboard a Starjumper.

He heard the roar of atmosphere.

"We're falling!"

"Yes Captain, there was a link error, we've entered an atmosphere."

"What about juke charges? I remember reading that was used during a mis-link to reorient the ship"

"I'm too large Captain. I think I know the event you're talking about, it was a Frigate early in the K'laxi/Xenni war. We're going to have to land."

"Land?" Captain Kennison sounded incredulous. "Can a Starjumper land? I didn't think the could."

Remaining Grace sounded testy. "No, they normally can't. I don't know about you, but I don't particularly want to slam into a planet, do you?" Grace threw an image up on the screen as Henry and Penny regained consciousness. "It appears that this world is mostly water, so we're going to try to ditch in the ocean. I need you three to rig for ditching while I try and orient us Stardrive down and use that to slow our decent."

"Rig for ditching?" Penny shakes her head and wipes some blood from her forehead.

"Water landing. Now please help, I need to concentrate."

As the three of them got out of their seats, they felt and heard the Stardrive fire erratically. Grace was trying to use bursts of thrust to steer them and that combined with the gyros was setting them engine first towards the planet.

When people see a Starjumper in space, they think it's long. It's a reasonable assumption. Most Starjumpers are between 3 and 5 kilometers long with smooth sweeping lines.

They're incorrect though. A Starjumper isn't long.

It's tall.

All of the decks of a Starjumper are oriented like floors on a skyscraper. If you think about it, that makes sense. Starjumpers existed before wormhole technology, before artificial gravity even. They would thrust at 1 gee for weeks, and then coast between stars, before flipping over and thrusting again at 1 gee to slow down. With the engines at the "back" thrusting at 1 gee made that the "floor." Orient the ship like a building and now everyone is comfortable while they thrust.

Falling through the atmosphere, Remaining Grace looked like a skyscraper falling on a pillar of intermittent fire. While Grace worked hard to keep from slamming into the ocean, Penny and Henry ran around the bridge, flipping ancient mechanical levers and switches that were hidden behind long disused panels, while James shouted commands reading from a very old doc on his pad. Some paranoid engineer a thousand years ago worried that a Starjumper might have to make a water landing, so a process was developed and tested.

Finally, Grace was able to get themselves mostly oriented correctly, and fired their Stardrive. In the atmosphere, the roar of the drive was intense. The whole ship vibrated and roared as they rode the pillar of fire. "We're still going too fast!" Grace sounded like they were speaking through gritted teeth, this must be taking nearly all their effort. "You need to buckle up, I'm boosting to three gee."

Everyone quickly scrambled to their seats and strapped themselves in as Grace ramped up the thrust. As they sat in their seats, pressed by the hidden hand of thrust, they could feel the thrust swing around as Grace worked to keep themselves pointed straight up and down.

After what felt like an eternity, the Stardrive cut, everyone felt a sickening drop as they fell the last few feet, and then there was a gentle rocking as the ship bobbed like a buoy in the ocean. "Everyone, I can say for sure that I am as surprised as you all are, but we're down and safe." Grace sounded... amazed that it worked?

"Thanks Remaining Grace, that was masterfully done." Penny and Henry gave their assent. "But... now what? How do we get home?"

"That... is a little harder. We're going to have to repair or replace the wormhole generator and link back... somewhere. Probably Rakish Swagger or Rear Window themselves. It's not like they don't need the supplies anymore."

"But Grace, can we link from the surface of a planet? Do we have to boost to orbit first?" Penny was scanning the area, trying to figure out where they were."

"Honestly, Penny, I don't know."

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans and ai #humans are space capybaras #scifi writing #humans are space australians #sci fi writing #writing

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nainawithspecs · 5 months

Text

A little Rohini piece because I think she is extremely cool and also extremely underrated!

Rohini is not a woman of a lot of words.

And this is not particularly a secret to anyone in Vrindavan. She partakes occasionally in the discussions of milk and grains, lends a hand to Nanda in politics and calculations, sneaks in a suggestion to Krishna for clevering his antics here and there, but, ultimately, finds peace in curling up by the window, the afternoon sunlight falling languidly on the book in her hand.

She is unsure, then, of how exactly it is that she gets roped into being the head of entertainment for the little girls of the village, that too for a full evening.

The adults are off to a wedding in the neighboring village, the boys are out frolicking in the fields, and the girls, not allowed out in the dark alone, are staring up at her with expectant eyes from where they sit cross legged on the ground.

“What,” she begins, and hopes her tone does not betray the confusion she feels. “Would you all like to do?”

“Can we play battle like the one they show in the nataks?” one from the fifteen responds, her red bindi rising with her eyebrows in eagerness.

“I do not think that would be very wise,” Rohini states, and the abundance of knives as well as children in the house, alongwith the lack of battleground proportions of space makes her believe she is right to do so. She would like to return the girls to their parents with all their organs intact.

“We could weave a garland then?”

This time it comes from the front, from the girl in braids and a blue choli. Radha.

The unofficial leader of the gopis and the partner in crime in most of her nephew’s mischiefs, smiles excitedly at Rohini, and animatedly adds, “I saw Yashoda Kaki bring in a basket full of flowers today. We could all sit around and weave it together.”

Most of the girls nod in agreement.

It is not a bad idea at all, but, “She had to use all of them for the puja this morning, I am afraid.”

Radha’s moon-like face falls, and Rohini feels a slight pang of regret.

The kid just beside Radha immediately declares. “Take us to the wedding. I heard the food there is delicious.”

“It will be over by now, Lali,” Radha pouts, looking into the distance.

“And we can not go to a wedding empty handed,” a girl from the middle row pipes up, seemingly scandalized. “Right, Kaki?”

Rohini hides an amused smile at the exchange. “Quite right. And besides,” she looks over at the bright young faces. “I must confess, I happen to be completely in the dark in regard to whose nuptials are even taking place.”

The girls exchange glances among themselves. There seems to be a silent mutual understanding when Radha leans ahead to whisper conspiratorially, “Us too, Kaki.” A pause. “I think that is why we were not invited.”

Rohini leans ahead too, and drops her voice to her level. “I think that is why I was not invited either.”

The young ladies break out in giggles and Rohini, surprisingly, finds herself joining them.

“Weddings should be about food, not the names.” Lali huffs. “Nobody cares about them.”

“True. The fight over food makes better stories than most of the bride and grooms,” another girl, adorned with green bangles and a leaf crown, asserts.

Radha suddenly gasps, deep brown eyes lighting up. “Kaki! Why don’t you tell us a story? I have seen you reading everyday. You must know so many.”

There is murmur of agreement in the gathering and Rohini is surprised that why had she not thought of it.

“Yes,” Rohini breathes out, “I do know quite a few.” She may perhaps not be a words person, but stories to her had always been more about art rather than language. More a painting rather than ink. “And to suit the occasion, some of them happen to involve weddings too.”

There is a cheer from the gathering as Rohini beacons them closer. This time, the expectant eyes and eager expression are more than welcome as she begins, “There was once a king who wanted to marry a princess from a different culture. She agreed but first placed two demands about her god and freedom…”

When the boys come back, they are shocked to see the gopis chatting away with Rohini late into the night, hanging on each and every word of hers like a sacred thread.

When the grown ups come back, at the crack of dawn, they are left confused at the sight of kids asleep around Rohini in Yashoda’s aangan, as the crisp, almost orange light falls on the royal princess reading between the dozing forms, lightly stroking Radha’s hair who’s asleep on her lap.

(Years later, when Krishna kills Kansa and becomes the Lord of Mathura, when Subhadra comes into their world and when all Vrindavan is allowed to be is a distant unimportant village, Rohini weaves a tale to her daughter to lull her into a slumber and dares not dwell on why her heart recalls a hazy laughter filled evening and hurts itself so.)

#rohini #desiblr #hindu mythology women #hindu mythology #desi mythology #desi #hindu mythology moodboard #indian mythology #mythology #desi aesthetic #desi academia #mine #spot the jodhaa akbar refrence #indian moodboard #mahabharata #mahabharat aesthetic #krishna #radha

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goodnitedrdead · 2 years

Text

miscalculated steps

Colonel Carrillo x Reader

Summary: Horacio was a man of deliberate decisions. It’s one of the characteristics that got him to the position he held. When you came into his life, he threw all sense of premeditation out the window and knew he would follow you till the end of the world at a moment’s notice. The risk he took was calculated, but man, was he bad at math.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Shootings, bullet wounds, death. Not towards any main characters though. fluff <3. silly things here and there.

Author's Note: sometimes I get possessed by the gremlin spirit of creativity so I just type words and hope they make sense when it's finished. feedback is greatly appreciated and will earn you a kiss from me <3

It amused you every time to have any sort of interaction with him and pretend you did not know the type of person he was behind closed doors. In fact, you both quite enjoyed the game you had to play outside of your own little shared universe.

It’s not like you didn’t want to share it with anyone else, the fact that you two were together, but you didn’t want any infiltrations to knock down the foundations you two had built.

For Horacio, it was the excitement and pure love he never really knew he wanted. Most of the time, he felt like a love-sick puppy. He was quite surprised nobody else had brought it up to his attention. He could already hear Javier snickering at him for the lingering and glazy looks he’d give you whenever you were in his presence.

Truth be told, he tried his hardest to treat you like the rest of his team. He tried so hard to talk to you in the same stern voice he’d use with everyone else. He tried so hard to make sure you were always aware of your surroundings. He tried so damn hard to make sure you didn’t get any sort of special treatment from him. He tried and tried and tried so hard but the best he could do was soften his tone whenever he’d address you. The best he could do was make sure you were always in his line of sight and within reach in case he had to cover you. The very best he could do was to make sure you were his number one priority in that team.

It wasn’t always like that. He remembers when you were first assigned to Search Bloc. He didn’t think much of you. For him, it was another person to deal with which meant more weight on his shoulders that would slow him down. That all changed when you knocked him off his feet…. quite literally.

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It had been during a stakeout gone wrong. Carrillo and Peña were informed about an exchange that was taking place in an abandoned farm-house outside of Medellín. As the two of them were heading towards their shared vehicle, you were leaning on yours having a cigarette. Javier called you out, and you looked up to see him waving at you. You quickly put your cigarette out and jogged towards them. Carrillo would eventually have to thank Javier for this, as he was the one who invited you to join them. You agreed, and got in the backseat of the car.

As the three of you drove with minimal conversation, you kept shifting in your seat. Carrillo noticed after a while, the way you couldn’t seem to sit still, the way you kept readjusting the seat belt strap that went across your torso.

“Everything alright, agent?” he asked, starting to get bothered by your actions. Looking at you through the rearview mirror.

You gave him a quick smile before you replied, “yeah.. All good.”

He raised an eyebrow at you and kept driving, falling into conversation with Javier.

Carrillo noticed the change in demeanor when you reached your destination. You weren’t fidgeting anymore. Instead, he found you to be overly-observant. As he placed the car in park, he saw the way you looked out the window, one hand on your gun and the other on the handle of the door. Alert.

As the three of you exited the vehicle, he was about to make a comment on your behavior, but it all changed when the bullets started to rain on the three of you.

His eyes immediately searched for Peña as he was quick to find cover from the gunfire. The shooting was coming from above. The street was clear of civilians, except for the three of you and the shooters. It was four men, positioned on different balconies from the houses on the street. He could only see two in front of him, and he quickly took one down with his pistol. The man fell from the balcony, colliding with the hard concrete beneath him.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins. His breath was coming in a quick and shallow rhythm. Carrillo took cover behind a car, ducking from the bullets that were dancing around him. He paid close attention to the sound of the gunfire, trying his best to count how many rounds were left in the other man’s weapon. It wasn’t long before he heard the shooting from that direction stop, the man more than likely meeting the same fate as his partner. The smell of gunpowder clung to the air, silence was quick to take over the atmosphere.

He scouted the area around him, slowly rising to his feet with his gun drawn and ready. At the lack of sight of you and Peña, Carrillo started to panic. He was quick to inspect his surroundings, looking for either of you. He had counted four men before, and two of them got taken down. Sure he could take on the other two by himself, but the problem was that he didn’t know where they had gone. They could ambush him at any minute.

As he came close to an old house down the street, he was about to call out for Peña when he felt an overpowering force plow against him. He was knocked out of his breath, his back making contact with the uneven pavement below him. He felt a few rocks dig into his back, his head grazing the ground. It all happened so quickly he didn’t have time to register the weight on top of him, shielding him from the bullets.

Just as he was about to strike his attacker, he was stopped at the sight of you. Definitely not the person he expected.

You were out of breath, panting above him. Your hair untamed, framing your face in a way that made you look much younger. Carrillo never took the time to really look at you until now. You were beautiful. A part of him that he didn’t even know was there started to awaken. Was it the rush of adrenaline? Was the loneliness catching up to him? Was it the way you saved his life? Whatever it was, those thoughts vanished as he saw you jump back to your feet, running to the sound of gunfire. He didn’t even know you had pushed him into an alleyway, hiding him away from the danger.

As he got out of the trance he was in, he got back up and followed you. Only to find out you and Peña had taken care of the other men that were still on the loose.

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It still amused him, knowing that in an instant moment his whole world changed because of you. Never in a million years did he think he’d end up sharing a home with you. Where you two would create your own sanctuary and your own world together, a world so perfect that he’d feel giddy to get out of work and home to you. He couldn’t need anything else as long as he was in your shared space.

The excitement to come back to you at the end of the day was always there. But sometimes he’d get so wrapped up in his own mind. The exhaustion of work following him and finding a home in his bones, aching and wearing him down as the minutes ticked by. And there was no one to blame for such a feeling. It came with the profession. The formidable belief that you were changing the world, even if it cost giving up your own sanity.

He was so thankful you understood. And you were thankful he did as well. The mutual understanding was something neither of you had in previous relationships, at least not to this level. Sure, previous partners of yours knew of your profession and what you did, but they never really knew the extent of it until they had witnessed it first-hand. And it wasn’t a problem until you’d withdraw from your own existence. You would lose interest in the smallest of things, sometimes to the point where food wasn’t even an option for you. Finding solace in the cigarettes and cheap coffee you’d consume on your way to the office or with your own colleagues. You pitted the opposing party in these situations. Your self-awareness sometimes failing you to see that you would neglect your partners from being so involved with your job. Only realizing once they’ve been long gone, leaving you confused and a tad disappointed with your behavior.

Making you wonder if you were even meant to be loved.

But that was until you met Horacio.

With him, things were unlike any other. He understood. He got it. He knew the game plan and he knew how to play it. Both of you wouldn’t even have to speak a word to understand it had been one of those days. You learned how to read each other based on the most simple microexpressions. Sometimes it was the way he’d breathe. He would hold his breath at times, almost as if he were restraining himself from unleashing the anger he suppressed. Anger at the world, anger at the people who would do their part to make the world a shitty place. Anger at Pablo Escobar.

Horacio couldn’t even begin to understand a man like Escobar. Why build your empire above the souls of Colombia? Why paint the walls with the blood of those whose lives you felt entitled to take? Who was he to choose who got to live and who got to die?

The thoughts faded as he walked inside the only place that managed to bring him tranquility. With a deep breath, he allowed himself to engulf the feeling of calmness. The warmth of your shared home embraced his very soul, settling in his bones and scaring away the ache and weariness that usually resided there. He couldn’t hold back the smile that formed on his face as he walked deeper inside, looking for you.

He heard you before he could see you. A string of quiet curses that left your mouth, along with things hitting the floor. The faint melody that flowed from the radio got louder as he approached the bathroom. Finding you haunched over the edge of the bathtub, you're back facing the door. As much as he wanted to surprise you by wrapping his arms around your waist, he couldn’t bring himself to scare you like that. Fear was an ever present feeling in your field of work and he was not about to let it follow you home. Instead he just learned against the frame of the door, delightfully observing you.

You were setting candles around the edge of the tub, trying to somehow make it look… romantic. Inviting? Relaxing? You weren’t even sure what you were going for. All you wanted was to do something nice for Horacio, you knew how hard of a time he was having lately. He wasn’t the only one, sure, but as the Colonel and head of Search Bloc, he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. You wanted to relieve some of that pressure he carried, at least for this moment.

You checked your watch, lifting a fist in a celebratory manner as you managed to finish before Horacio arrived home. Or so you thought. You had completely forgotten to retrieve the matchsticks to light the candles. Challenging yourself to go downstairs and get the matchstick box in under ten seconds, you turned and tried to make a run for it when you collided with a goddamn human brick wall. Oof.

You instantly felt arms wrap around you, trapping you in place. A smile immediately appeared on your face as you looked at the man who embraced you. Horacio planted kisses all over your face, making the most exaggerated kissing sounds as he did so. You giggled before you gently shoved him away, suddenly realizing he was home and your surprise was ruined.

“Why are you here? You weren’t supposed to be home for another twenty minutes!” you couldn’t help but whine, you really wanted to surprise him with this.

Horacio smirked, walking towards you with his hands on his hips, “I can always go back to the office and crash there. Would you prefer that, mi amor?”

You walked backwards, rolling your eyes before they settled on his gaze. The back of your knees softly touching the side of the tub, coming to a stop. You mimicked his posture, hands on your hips and a playful look in your eyes. “You’re more than welcome to do so. You probably wouldn’t even last five minutes before complaining about–”

He caged you in between his body and the tub, towering over you and wrapping his arms around you once again. His fingers making contact with the parts of your body that were the most ticklish. Wanting to make you regret your words.

You laughed as he tickled you, trying to squirm and get out of his grasp before it could continue. You jerked back to try to avoid his hands from touching you, but he had grabbed you by the waist and you forgot where you were and you lost your balance and the next thing you knew, you were falling backwards into the full tub and on your attempt to grab onto something, you ended up grasping his biceps and pulling him down with you.

Horacio was a man of deliberate decisions. It’s one of the characteristics that got him to the position he held. When you came into his life, he threw all sense of premeditation out the window and knew he would follow you till the end of the world at a moment’s notice. The risk he took was calculated, but man, was he bad at math.

He tried to act quick and move so he wouldn’t fall completely on top of you and crush you, but that didn’t work out. You started laughing once again as his weight held you down, the look of oh shit we fucked up evident on his face and you couldn’t even look at him because you weren’t sure what was funnier, that look or the fact that both of you had fallen into the tub, his drenched military uniform clinging onto every part of his body. The usually military green turned even darker as the water made contact with it.

He stopped caring about what happened when he heard your laugh, and he couldn’t help himself from joining you. The both of you now looking at each other and finding humor in the fact that both of you were completely wet. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him in even further, not caring about the situation anymore.

He looked down at you and let his laughter subside, the feeling of adoration taking over. He was completely enamored with you and couldn’t even tell you because he was sure there was not a word on the planet that could convey the feelings he had for you. Horacio placed a hand on your cheek, leaning in slowly and taking in all of your features.

You pulled away just barely enough to miss his lips, a smirk settling on your face as you told him, “you’re definitely sleeping at the office from now on.”

Whatever quick comeback he tried to come up with disappeared when he felt your lips press against his.

#colonel carrillo x reader #colonel carrillo x you #colonel carrillo imagine #colonel carrillo fic #colonel carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo x you #horacio carrillo imagine #horacio carrillo fic #horacio carrillo #narcos fic #maurice compte #goodnitedrdead writes

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i-did-not-mean-to · 5 months

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MAY-U - Russingon

This one has been written for @urwendii! It was such fun to write a Modern!AU Russingon, which is, as everybody knows, one of my all-time favourite things to do!

Characters: Maedhros x Fingon

Prompts: University - Elevator Engineer - I can think of worse company

Words: 2 200

Warnings: Stuck elevator, daring rescue mission, some body contact :D (they're still half-cousins in canon!)

“Oh shit!”

Fingon stared at the screen of his tablet in dismay—how could he have missed so flagrant an error?

Beneath him, there was a faint screeching, scraping sound, but he was too engrossed in his calculations to pay it any heed until it suddenly stopped.

Another wave of blind panic and self-recrimination washed over him, but he tried to counteract that utterly useless instinctive reaction by reminding himself that nobody even used this particular elevator. Everything was fine!

Sweat beaded along his spine—the presentation of his thesis was only weeks away, and the current setback did not exactly inspire much confidence in his eventual success.

He’d wanted to revolutionise the field of elevator engineering; a humble and rather dull aspiration one might well think, but Fingon had devoted himself to this task with as much boundless enthusiasm as he put in any of his numerous other projects and dreams.

Brow creased and lips pinched, he thus gave his meticulous computations another hard stare. Ah! Yes, if he just…

His stroke of genius that would save his academic career and the rotten, old elevator was rudely interrupted by a muted banging, followed by a voice calling out in so polite a tone and wording that Fingon was quite taken aback.

He’d not believed ghosts to be so extraordinarily courteous!

“Hello? Is someone there? The intercom seems to be out of order! Hello? The button is not working!”

Intercom? Button?

Oh Eru! Setting his tablet aside, Fingon groaned. This was just his luck! On the one instance all his efforts failed, there had to be a witness, enmeshed against their will in his entirely avoidable defeat.

Moreover, he couldn’t remember ever having heard a voice half as rich and enchanting as the one rising like a swirl of enticing mist at dawn from the dark abyss of mechanical malfunction.

“There’s a little problem with the elevator,” he called back, half-holding on to the ludicrous idea of merely being haunted by the phantom of inadequacy. “Hang on! Are you injured?”

“I thought as much,” came the deadpan reply from below. “Do you think it could be solved within…let’s say thirty minutes? I’ve got a lecture to attend, but I’m otherwise unharmed.”

“Students are not allowed in this part of the building,” Fingon said smugly, biting his lip when he realised that he, at least on the face of it, was a mere student too.

“I’m aware,” the other answered levelly. “I’m the lecturer, not an attendee. It’s my first one, though, and I’d hate to be a no-show. So, I repeat my question, can this hiccup be ironed out within the next half hour?”

His mind racing through a quick tabulation of what had to be done for the elevator to resume function at all, Fingon came to the inevitable conclusion that he’d have to disappoint the poor wretch.

He was about to say so when he saw movement in the elevator shaft. A moment later, the top hatch flew open and a silken mass of reddish hair, gleaming like burnished copper, appeared.

“Erm,” Fingon mumbled hesitantly, perched precariously on the edge of the control room entrance as he stared, mesmerised, at the stuck cabin just a few meters away. He remembered vaguely that he’d been about to say something, but the exact words had momentarily fled his mind.

The impressive mane shifted, and a pale, shapely face became visible, gleaming like marble in the unprepossessing brushed metal window.

“Ah! You’re still there,” the beauteous man with the magnetic voice smiled. And what a smile it was—Fingon relied on his excellent reflexes to avoid toppling to his death in his eagerness to lean towards that discreet siren call. “I take your silence as a negative, am I right? Maybe…I could climb out and try to pry open the elevator doors?”

Blinking, Fingon struggled to make sense of the sentence he’d just heard; his whole mind and soul were too thoroughly consumed by the near-transcendental charm of the mysterious apparition to focus on anything other than the way those pale lips twitched, and these light grey eyes twinkled with determination.

“Won’t work,” Fingon then croaked miserably. “The many outdated and outright perilous features of the elevator are exactly what I’m trying to amend and improve.”

“Do you have to use the elevator to get down from there?”

A long, slender arm—clad in perfectly ironed grey linen—was swung over the lip of the hatch, slamming a heavy leather bag against the roof of the cabin.

“I’m Maedhros, by the way,” the stranger, now halfway out of his metal cage, wheezed.

“Fingon. Yes. No,” Fingon took a shivering breath; he couldn’t fully grasp how so deplorably static a situation could be “too fast-paced” for his befuddled brain to follow. “I would have taken the elevator,” he tried anew, “but there’s an old door leading outside. I don’t think it has been used in years, and I’d have to walk all the way around and through the building to get back to my office, but theoretically, it could be done!”

“Nice to meet you, Fingon,” Maedhros said, his inflexion just ambiguous enough to make Fingon’s eyebrow quirk in suspicion. “If that is so, I shall come up and use that door if it’s all the same to you.”

His mouth opening to let out an incredulous guffaw, Fingon felt his breath hitch in his throat instead as the other lifted himself completely out of the blasted elevator.

He was huge—Fingon gasped like a schoolgirl, and then, he realised that he’d heard other faculty members discuss the very man, shading his eyes to look up at him hopefully.

The gossip and envious praise surrounding the new lecturer, pretty as a summer day and cold as a winter’s night, had hitherto been buried under far more pressing considerations, and Fingon had simply failed to connect the dots until now.

“Antique languages and societies, right?” he muttered distractedly.

At once, Maedhros’s face lit up. “That’s me—I see I’ve made quite an impression. I hope in a good way.”

A muscle twitched in his left cheek, and Fingon realised with a jolt of incredulity that this man—so self-possessed in the face of adversity and gorgeous enough to be eaten raw—was insecure about how people might perceive him.

“Whatever I’ve heard, it does not do you justice,” Fingon replied before getting a grip on his thoughts. “And words like ‘angelic’ and ‘mouth-watering’ have been used liberally.”

“Ah, sometimes I wish I was interested in women,” Maedhros replied sheepishly, tucking his narrow chin against his chest as if embarrassed. “They’re always so kind and generous to me.”

“I’ve never said a word about the fairer sex,” Fingon commented slyly.

That off-hand remark managed what a defective lift and a very athletic escape hadn’t achieved—Maedhros was positively speechless.

This, Fingon decided, was the worst possible moment to suggest physical contact, but if that masterpiece of human anatomy wanted to make it to his lecture in time, he would have to go along with Fingon’s half-baked plan.

“I can come down and push you up,” he said carefully. “There is a desk, nailed to the floor, in the corner, and you might just be tall enough to wedge in your feet to keep you steady. Or…you can just leave me here—I deserve that.”

“Nonsense!” Maedhros laughed, extending his arms and broadening his stance. “Come down, I’ll catch you.”

Feeling like the maiden heroine in an old-timey novel, Fingon twisted and turned until he could let his feet dangle into the void while holding on for dear life to the sharp-edged rim of the square door in the floor of the control room.

Strong arms were slung around his thighs.

“Let yourself slide down slowly—I’ve got you,” Maedhros promised.

“Take care, I’ve been told repeatedly that my ass is a danger to society!” Fingon warned, mortified at the thought that his new, exciting acquaintance would find himself smothered in the bulging flesh of his rotund behind.

“Consider me duly warned,” the victim-turned-saviour chuckled. “Now let go!”

Sending an arrow prayer to whatever Vala was available, Fingon slowly unclasped his aching fingers.

For a heartbeat, he was floating on a wave of fragrant warmth before the tight rope of living flesh slid up along his body, leaving a lingering sensation of flames licking at his sensitive skin that drove him half-insane with entirely improper want.

“Good day to you, Fingon. I’m sorry to admit that, according to my various brothers’ assessments, my behind is disgustingly bony. You might have been wise to bring gloves if you plan on pushing me up!” Maedhros chirped when Fingon turned around, at once lost in the wavering grey sea of the other’s luminous eyes.

“I thought I’d simply give you a boost,” the prospected engineer mumbled.

“I might need more than that,” Maedhros said with a wink.

Fingon remembered only too well how that man had hoisted himself out of the elevator cabin without any assistance, but he was smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself.

“I wouldn’t dream of wearing gloves then,” he said with a crooked grin accentuating his dimples in a way his mother qualified as “unfairly adorable”.

Without further ado, he gave Maedhros a leg up.

Twisting his head to flash a mischievous grin at his flushed helper, the tall redhead purred, “Push, my man, push!”

As his blood seemingly couldn’t decide what vital organ to provision, Fingon felt light-headed and deliciously dizzy, craning his neck to observe Maedhros’s less-than-graceful ascent which soon came to a suspicious halt, leaving the long, svelte legs swinging like the pendulum of an enchanted clock.

A man of action to his core, Fingon brazenly cupped the perky ass dangling before him and heaved.

He thought that his mind was deserting him for good—Maedhros, instead of using the momentum, seemed to grow heavier. Even though he’d managed to get a handhold on the doorframe above him, he throned on Fingon’s trembling hands like a king of yore.

“Ticktock!” Fingon reminded him half-heartedly.

“Shame, really,” Maedhros sighed and pulled himself through the hole in one powerful, fluid motion.

“If you could throw down my tablet…I shall spend the rest of the day trying to fix this mess,” Fingon called dejectedly. He was profoundly disgusted with how his first meeting with the most talked-about man on campus had gone down, and—despite his cheery, optimistic soul—he knew that he’d gnaw on this humiliating day for a long while.

“I think you’d be more comfortable here,” Maedhros objected. “Throw up my bag, and then I’ll pull you up, Mister Engineer. Trust your plan—it will work out!”

There was the clanging noise of furniture being shuffled around and the old desk creaking in protest, and then those long arms dropped back into Fingon’s field of vision, bracketing a beautifully flushed face.

“Come on!” Maedhros grinned in a heartening tone.

With a soft sigh, Fingon extended his own arms. Maedhros had rolled up his sleeves, and Fingon’s clasped his fingers around lean, freckled forearms firmly at the same time as he felt long, cool digits close against his own skin.

Again, he couldn’t deny how embarrassingly marvellous and precious it made him feel to be lifted as if he was but a dainty, little thing rather than a bulky young man.

Pushing himself off with as much vigour as he could muster to contribute as much as he could lest Maedhros throw out his back in this ludicrous sequence of daring rescues, he shot through the hole and landed flat on a surprisingly broad, well-muscled chest.

Much of an engineer he was, he thought hazily before the slowly blossoming smile of the much put-upon victim of his idiocy rendered the very act of forming coherent concepts patently impossible.

“You owe me a dinner,” Maedhros smirked. “At the very least.”

“Anything for a new colleague,” Fingon squeaked, afraid that if he thought too long on how his breath intermingled with Maedhros’s, he’d be tempted to kiss that rosy mouth until both their careers were irremediably damaged by their failure to show up where they were needed.

A moue of disappointment distorted Maedhros’s hitherto perfectly amiable visage.

“Ah! Maybe you could score one of those ladies that speak of me so nicely,” he said cautiously without making any attempt to shift Fingon’s crushing weight off his pinned body.

“May I remind you, I’ve still not brought up a single ‘lady’. Either way, you better run to your lecture. If, once the rush of adventure has worn off, you still want to spend time with the unluckiest bugger in a ten-mile-radius, you know where you’ll find me.”

Ostensibly pacified, Maedhros hummed in agreement. “When I return,” he chuckled, “I’ll have all the time in the world. I won’t even object to being trapped in the same elevator again. I can think of worse company!”

Even though he mumbled some expected polite verbiage, Fingon was deeply flattered and felt his motivation to solve the technical conundrum reawaken in his inexplicably tight, palpitating heart.

“Until later, brave saviour,” Maedhros grinned. “Don’t fall in…before I’m back.”

↬ Masterlist

Thank you so much for joining me on this new adventure.

@fellowshipofthefics here's the next one for May!

Lots of love from me!

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realsafari · 3 months

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i went on a college tour the other day :D Any tips for college?

ou good question!!

let me introduce u to….

*radio announcer voice*

SAFARI’S OFFICIAL TIPS ON SURVIVING YOUR (FIRST YEAR OF?) COLLEGE

This is really long so here’s a line break for your benefit:

RESIDENCY

WHAT TO CONSIDER:

Do you know where you’re staying? Most colleges have dorms built into the student life plan for freshman, but it’s always good to check. You can usually find this on their website, but you can also call to ask. I promise they will not laugh at you.

If your residence is further away from your campus, how are you going to get there? Is it reliable? What are the chances of a problem happening with it?

MY SPECIFIC TIPS:

- If you have a dorm, remember that while you are going to be living in it, it’s not your permanent home. Don’t buy decorations for it that you wont be able to pack and take back to where you’re staying over the summer.

- Buy a toiletry caddy. I got mine at Target. Chances are you will have to share a bathroom with your hall or wing, and you do NOT want to worry about losing your things or mixing them up with others. This also makes carrying everything a whole lot easier.

- Connected to the previous, buy shower shoes. I literally just got flip-flops from dollar general (I think, I’ve had them since before I went to college)

- ALWAYS make a copy of your house/dorm key and keep it somewhere you physically can’t lose. Don’t use this key unless you genuinely misplaced your first. I had mine inside a small zipped pocket in my backpack.

- If you’re paying rent or bills, calculate the exact (or as close as possible) to how much this will cost per payment window. Bills are finicky, so try to keep your water/electricity usage the same every month. After a bit of this, you can calculate the average price. Set this money aside in a separate account for billing.

- Get to know your (possible) roommate(s). They don’t have to be your best friend. You don’t have to even hang out often. But PLEASE, at least learn each other’s names, primary study departments, and contact information.

CLASSES AND SCHEDULING

- For the love of god, you do not have to know what you’re majoring in the moment you arrive. Try out anything in any field of interest. Narrow it down later.

- Yes, you have required classes, but try to fit in classes that you’ll enjoy in between them. Breaking up my standard segments was super refreshing for me.

- PLEASE do not schedule classes for first thing in the morning or late at night. You’re going to want all the sleep and study time you can get.

- Schedule all your day classes to be relatively consecutive. If you go back to your residence in the middle of the day for a bit, you’re not going to want to leave.

- I did my best to have three classes per day on weekdays, none on saturday, and one on sunday. my basic schedule went:

CLASS 1 - 9:00

BREAK

CLASS 2 - 12:00

LUNCH

GO HOME, USUALLY STUDY OR WORK

DINNER

CLASS 3 - 18:00

Sunday are mostly free, but I like to have one class starting somewhere between 17:00 and 18:30, never later than 19:00.

- Before your first day of classes, make sure you know where every room is, which wing it’s in, entry codes, etc.

- INTRODUCE YOURSELF TO YOUR TEACHERS. IF YOU CAN’T DO THIS IN PERSON FOR ANY REASON, WRITE THEM AN EMAIL, OR BETTER YET, A PHYSICAL LETTER IN THEIR STAFF MAILBOX. ASK THEM TO GO OUT FOR COFFEE WITH YOU. I PROMISE THEY ARE NICE PEOPLE AND ARE VERY HAPPY TO BUILD A RELATIONSHIP WITH YOU.

STUDYING AND WORK

- Do not stay up past 1:00 if you can help it. I get that all nighters are necessary at one point, but you WILL regret it in the morning.

- Waking up early is not a requirement. While I recommend not waking up after 8:00, you don’t need to be up at 6 or earlier. Pretty much nobody expects you to.

- I swear to god, I know how hard it is to stay organized. I used digital notes for everything, and I had at least a folder for each subject. Every subject had a different color, and most of them were thin enough that I could keep them all in a bag at once.

- Again with organization, spend time at the beginning of every quarter deleting unnecessary files, putting everything in correct folders, and labeling documents properly. Your brain is not going to understand “AS4.2/LO-DAY 5 NOTES.html” for longer than 5 minutes.

- I know we all hate Google deep down, but I have to admit I use Drive to organize my notes. I have a folder for every class, where there is a subfolder for every quarter. within these, I have a folder for each unit, or other important category. This is super helpful when studying for finals.

- Do not drink coffee or any other caffeine to stay up later. “Chugging an espresso” is not going to help you study at 24:00. Have a cup in the mornings, but never have caffeine at least 2 hours before sleeping. Power through the pain, it gets easier to stay awake as you keep going.

- DO NOT WORK IN BED. DO NOT STUDY IN BED. DO NOT WORK OR STUDY WHILE IN A PLACE YOUR BRAIN ASSOCIATES WITH SLEEP. TRUST ME ON THIS YOU WILL NOT GET ANYTHING DONE.

- Outlines are your best friend for writing essays. Literally search up “essay outline template” and go wild filling that shit in.

- While you SHOULD read the book, I don’t expect you to read everything. Spend some time summarizing what you DO know on paper, then do some research to fill in the gaps.

- Body doubling works wonders. If you can have a study buddy (bonus if they live with you) that you can check in on to keep them on track while they do the same for you, do it ASAP.

- Yeah I don’t expect you to be fully prepared for your first year in terms of study prep. Don’t worry, neither do your professors.

- Speaking of professors, please please PLEASE email them (or ask them in person!!) if you have questions or need help with their class. It’s so much better to admit you need help than to lie and postpone the inevitable.

- Charge. Your. Goddamn. Devices. You. Will. Be. Fucked. If. You. Don’t.

STUDENT LIFE

I KNOW IM AN ANTISOCIAL FUCK BUT TRUST ME ON THIS OK. I MAY NOT GO TO EVENTS OFTEN BUT I HAVE GENERAL TIPS.

- Don’t drink until you’re of legal age. Don’t do drugs ever. It doesn’t end up well, it doesn’t make you cool. Yes, THC is a drug. Yes, adults can tell if you aren’t sober. Ideally don’t drink at all unless it’s a special occasion.

- Always have the contact information of someone who isn’t at the hangout or party you’re at. Ok admittedly I didn’t go to parties but like do this anyways.

- Yeah most people don’t care if we can hear your music through your headphones unless It’s like the library or something. Or silent working time.

- Yes. You. Can. Make. Friends. With. Seniors. AND. Juniors. AGES DON’T MATTER MUCH IN COLLEGE FRIENDSHIPS.

- You literally do not have to go to any events that you don’t want to. I don’t care if people judge (they probably won’t). Just tell someone who is going where you’re going to be (even if you’re staying home!)

- Skipping class to mess around with friends once in a while is okay. I mean like once every few months. Don’t do it regularly, and make sure you get notes from anything you miss.

- You also don’t need to have friends! While it’s nice, as long as you are able to contact at least a few people for safety reasons, be as solo as you want.

- Clean up after yourself- I SWEAR IF YOU MAKE CLEANING STAFFS’ JOB MORE DIFFICULT I WILL FIND YOU.

I’m genuinely sorry that was so long, but I hope that helps in some way. I’m not used to displaying responsibility online lmao.

For added context: Im actually still in Uni. I have been since I was 19, and I plan on staying for 3 more years before doing life shit. All of these tips, even in past tense, are things I do currently/have done.

#safari is the best browser #safari answers #safari helps for some reason #using proper spelling n grammar actually killed me wtf #im literally dyinf #pls god almighty shine down upon me n give me places where i dont hv to spell #anyways i think this will b helpful #i hope #:3

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saucy-mesothelioma · 4 days

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Just a list of some of my favorite quotes. I tried to sort them at least a bit but eh.

Funny Quotes:

• "If there's anything more important than my ego around, I want it caught and shot now." - Zaphod Beeblebrox, The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy

• "The way it [Pizza Hut pizza slice] dances is insulting." -Charles White

• "You know what they say, when fate closes a door, luck opens a window. And karma deactivates the alarm system." -Sam, Poker Night 2

• "We're only at the top of the food chain because sharks don't have good guns yet. They're workin' on 'em tho." -Sorrow TV

• "Behind every great man, there's a woman with a vibrator." -Hawkeye Pierce, M*A*S*H

• "I'm not suicidal, I just wish I was never born." -Adrian Monk, Monk

• "We just cut up our girlfriend with a chainsaw...Does that sound fine?" -Ash Williams, Evil Dead 2

• "Hi Kevin can you maybe consider finding a hobby or possibly even a friend" -Poptarts

• "I live in a flat for divorcees where they make you pay six months up front in cause you hang yourself." -Gregory, The Outlaws

• "Mousetrap. I wanted to play Mousetrap. You roll your dice, you move your mice. Nobody gets hurt." -Bob the Tomato, VeggieTales

• "Yeah, it's a death trap. But it's a really powerful death trap. What, you suddenly care about safety now?" -Slate, Outer Wilds

• "How insecure do you think I am? Seriously, how insecure do you think I am. I need you to tell me. Will you please tell me?" -Shawn Spencer, Psych

"Oh, get over it. I shot ONE baby. And, in fairness, it was being a dick." -Handsome Jack, Borderlands 2

"We protest you calling us 'little kids'. We prefer to be called 'vertically-impaired pre-adults'." -Yakko Warner, Animainiacs

"If you want to do something evil, put it inside something boring. Apple could put the entire text of 'Mein Kampf' inside the iTunes user agreement, and you’d just go agree, agree, agree – what? – agree, agree." -John Oliver

• "Always get a contract when working with a dark, omnipotent power." -Joel Robinson, Mystery Science Theater 3000

• "Why does he have to kill them to prove his point? Can't he just show them a pie chart or something?" -Tom Servo, Mystery Science Theater 3000

• "No, no they're not eating people anymore, because we made it illegal." -Wendigoon

• "I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by." -Douglas Adams

• "Girls were falling all over me in school, and not just because I would extend my leg when they walked by." -Count Olaf, A Series of Unfortunate Events

• "If God were edible, not that I'm Catholic, but if it was cool to eat God, he'd be a chicken finger." -Troy Barnes, Community

• "I'm like the fun dad that comes and brings you a bike but doesn't pay child support" -Chris Tergliafera

• "The story so far: In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move." -Douglas Adams, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe

• "You can run, but death runs slightly faster." -Flamingo

• "Studies show keeping a ladder in the house is more dangerous than a loaded gun. That's why I have ten guns for if some maniac tries to sneak a ladder in here." -Grunkle Stan, Gravity Falls

•"Well believe me, Mike, I calculated the odds of this succeeding versus the odds I was doing something incredibly stupid... and I went ahead anyway." -Crow, Mystery Science Theater 3000

Quotes on Life:

• "If we don't go crazy once in a while, we'll all go crazy." -Hawkeye Pierce, M*A*S*H

• "Remember what the good book says: Love thy neighbor, or I'll punch your lights out!" -Father John Mulcahy, M*A*S*H

• "It is difficult, when faced with a situation you cannot control, to admit you can do nothing." -Lemony Snicket

•"All my life, I have been happiest when the folks watching me said to each other, 'Look at the poor dope, will ya?'." -Buster Keaton

• "At times the world may seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe that there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough. and what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may in fact be the first steps of a journey." -Lemony Snicket

• "Honest to god-or whoever's in charge-you are not alone." -Harlan Ellison

• "You are not entitled to your opinion, you are entitled to your informed opinion. If you are not informed on the subject, then your opinion counts for nothing." -Harlan Ellison

• "If one has no sense of humor, one is in trouble." -Betty White

• "As a child, I considered such unknowns sinister. Now, though, I understand they bear no ill will. The universe is, and we are." -Solanum, Outer Wilds

• "While skepticism is healthy, cynicism, real cynicism, is toxic." -John Oliver

•"You can wish your life away. But if you're going to dream, you're going to have to get out and, like I always say, you have to put some wings on them dreams, and some feet and fingers and some hands. They gotta get into some stuff. You can't just sit around and think of all the things you want to do. You've got to think of what you want to do, and then you've got to get out and make that happen." -Dolly Parton

• "Be yourself. No one can say you're doing it wrong." -Charles Schulz

• "It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things." -Lemony Snicket

•"If you know someone whos depressed, please resolve never to ask them why. Depression isn't a straightforward response to a bad situation; depression just is, like the weather." -Stephen Fry

• "When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them." -Lemony Snicket

• "Don’t get so busy making a living that you forget to make a life." -Dolly Parton

• "Strange as it may seem, I still hope for the best, even though the best, like an interesting piece of mail, so rarely arrives, and even when it does it can be lost so easily." -Lemony Snicket

• "Don’t try to be young. Just open your mind. Stay interested in stuff. There are so many things I won’t live long enough to find out about, but I’m still curious about them." -Betty White

• "I know that pain is the most important thing in the universes. Greater than survival, greater than love, greater even than the beauty it brings about. For without pain, there can be no pleasure. Without sadness, there can be no happiness. Without misery there can be no beauty. And without these, life is endless, hopeless, doomed and damned. Adult. You have become adult." -Harlan Ellison

• "I used to think the worst thing in life is to end up all alone. It's not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel all alone." -Robin Williams

•"Find out who you are. And do it on purpose." -Dolly Parton

• "Like a wind crying endlessly through the universe, time carries away the names and the deeds of conquerors and commoners alike. And all that we were, all that remains, is in the memories of those who cared we came this way for a brief moment." -Harlan Ellison

• "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us." -Gandalf, The Fellowship of the Ring

• "Not all those who wander are lost." -Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

• "Please, don't worry so much. Because in the end, none of us have very long on this Earth. Life is fleeting. And if you're ever distressed, cast your eyes to the summer sky when the stars are strung across the velvety night. And when a shooting star streaks through the blackness, turning night into day... make a wish and think of me. Make your life spectacular." -Robin Williams

• "I think I've discovered the secret of life -- you just hang around until you get used to it." -Sally Brown, Peanuts

• "It’s [old age] not a surprise, we knew it was coming – make the most of it. So you may not be as fast on your feet, and the image in your mirror may be a little disappointing, but if you are still functioning and not in pain, gratitude should be the name of the game." -Betty White

• "Don't be scared of dying, be more frightened that you haven't finished living." -Dick Van Dyke

• "In lieu of even as you’re waiting for a major change that you think might not come, incremental change is possible and valuable." -John Oliver

• "You can lie to anyone in the world and even get away with it, perhaps, but when you are alone and look into your own eyes in the mirror, you can’t sidestep the truth. Always be sure you can meet those eyes directly." -Betty White

Quotes that go Hard:

• "In death, there are no accidents, no coincidences, no mishaps, and no escapes." -Bludworth, Final Destination

• "War isn't hell. War is war and hell is hell, and of the two war is worse!" - Hawkeye Pierce, M*A*S*H

• "I'm sorry, if you were right, l'd agree with you." -Robin Williams

• “To linger on an ending is to rob it of its life.” -The Shifting Mound, Slay the Princess

• "There is only me. There is only my way. There is only the forest. And there is only surrender." -The Beast, Over the Garden Wall

• "Life is cruel. Why should the afterlife be any different?" -Davy Jones, Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest

• "When belief in a god dies, the god dies." -Harlan Ellison

• "There are few things more terrifying than one's own heart, and there is almost nothing more terrifying than sharing it with another. But most terrifying of all is leaving one's heart unshared." -The Moment of Clarity, Slay the Princess

• "I don't mind you thinking I'm stupid, but don't talk to me like I'm stupid." -Harlan Ellison

• "In all of mankind's history, there has never been more damage done than by people who thought they were doing the right thing." -Lucy van Pelt, Peanuts

• "I bet we were fun." -Gamora, Guardians of the Galaxy 3

• "A thousand staring morsels stood, and not one of them believed themselves sane to look upon it. And in the centre, the door that would open to all the places that were never there, was me." -Michael, The Magnus Archives

"Ain't that just the way." -Greg, Over the Garden Wall

• "The pain of your absence is sharp and haunting, and I would give anything not to know it; anything but never knowing you at all (which would be worse)." -Plume, Outer Wilds

"Only things that one could imagine happening to real people, I guess, remain in a person's memory." -Buster Keaton

• "Look, I've got a gun out there in my purse. And up to now, I've been forgiving and forgetting because of the way I was brought up. But I'll tell you one thing: If you ever say another word about me or make another indecent proposal, I'm gonna get that gun of mine... And I'm gonna change you from a rooster to a hen with one shot!" -Doralee Rhodes, 9 to 5

• "You're only given a spark of madness. You musn't lose it." -Robin Williams

• "All his life he tried to be a good person. Many times, however, he failed. For after all, he was only human. He wasn't a dog." -Charles Schulz

•"...How beautiful. It’s different than I’d envisioned. Whatever happens next, I do not think it is to be feared." -The Prisoner, Outer Wilds: Echoes of the Eye

#idk I just wanted to share these #meso's musings

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