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girlboybug · 1 year

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You Can Be the Boss

"he has a white corvette like i want it, a fire in his eyes no i saw it, he's bleeding from his brain and his wallet, he's sick and he's taken but honest."

or the one where you're javier's current favorite informant but steve doesn't quite trust you.

what’s playing 🎧 : you can be the boss by lana del rey

pairing : javier pena x reader x steve murphy

word count : 8k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, threesome, soft!dom javi, brat tamer! steve, rough sex, face fucking, blowjobs, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex, creampie, manhandling, good cop bad cop type beat, sir kink, dash of officer kink, use of cuffs, light slapping, degrading, denied orgasms, sprinkle of edging, unspecified age gap, references to anal but no actual anal, (sorry to my anal enjoyers), bisexual coded javi and steve ;3

a visual, for your viewing pleasure ;)

TRIGGER WARNINGS : dubcon (power imbalance), steve is a big ol meanie ;((, implied of infidelity, (?) if there's anything i missed pls lmk!!

a/n : once again need to state i am not caught up on narcos, my spanish is non-existent, timelines might b wonky, and idk if connie and steve get back together, but in this they're separated lolz, anyways pls enjoy!! <3

his hand feels warm when he rests it over your thigh, curling his fingers over your skin, rubbing his large palm back and forth. “can i get you something to drink?” he asks softly, keeping his words hushed and gentle.

you stare blankly ahead, nodding. he pats your thigh, rising from the couch before he disappears into his kitchen.

when he returns, he bends down in front of you, squatting just beneath your eye level, taking your hand in his. your eyes slowly drag down to him, watching as he molds your hand around the glass for you, running his fingers across your knuckles before his touch migrates to your chin, holding it with care.

“you’re okay.” he promises, and he looks like he means it, but you don’t believe it despite wishing with your entire being that his words were the truth. “javi, if they find out i’ve been telling you all this–” he unclenches your grip around the glass, setting it down on his coffee table and replacing it with his hand. his fingers lace with yours, allowing you to squeeze him instead.

“they’re not gonna find out. you’re staying with me for now, and i’ll work something out at the embassy, we’ll get you out of here, for good.” he murmurs, his words smooth and calm, caressing around the shell of your ears, trying his best to coax you out of the numb, scared state you’ve dwindled down into.

“what’s the use of leaving colombia if they’ll just find me in america?” your words tremble from your unsteady lips, and he sighs, leaning in to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

he kisses your forehead, trailing down to press his lips down the slope of your nose, stopping just before his lips meet your own. “they won’t find you, you have my word.” he forms his oath to you in a quiet breath, his words falling to your lips. you take them in, trying your best to let them resonate, in hopes that you’ll believe it.

you tilt your head upwards, just enough to reach the curve of his lips. you press them to yours, leaning in closer towards him, wishing you could just fall into him.

he’s quick to reciprocate, quick to catch you. he holds your cheeks in his hands, cradling you into him. your lips click and connect, the sound of your lips together, his warmth, the way he feels a part of you in this moment settles your swirling nerves back into a complacent, dormant state.

you hum a content sigh in his mouth, your shoulders dropping relaxedly when he kisses you deeply, letting you pour yourself into him. he’ll drink your worries, your fears, your anything into him, he’ll take it all from you if you allow him to.

if javi is anything, he’s consistent. consistent in always being the place you can go to forget about the whirlwind of shit you’re in. granted it’s temporary, but most good things tend to be.

the door pushes open and you gasp, jerking back from javier, instinctively moving behind him. he rushes to guard you, angling his body in front of yours. his shoulders droop with a sudden irritated deflation, huffing in annoyance while he watches his partner walk in, eyes following his casual movements as if he didn’t just give you an actual heart attack.

the tall blonde man drops his coat on the table, shutting the door with a push of his heel against the white wood.

he drags a tired hand down his cheek before he turns to eye you two suspiciously, well you suspiciously. “yeah sure why not,” javier shrugs, holding your knees towards him, keeping you still with his hand under your lap. “make yourself at home.” he mutters while steve paces over to your sitting figures.

you look up at him silently, his glare is fast to land on you. “oh yeah because i’m interrupting something super important here right?” he flicks a brow, scoffing when he loosens his tie.

“yeah actually,” javier nods, and steve rolls his eyes, his hands falling to his hips, looking down at you like an unbelieving teacher ready to scold his most troublesome students. “alright, what’s she doin’ here then, y’know, besides the shit you usually do with your ‘informants’?” you glare back at him, not understanding why he always seems to have a general distaste for your presence.

“she just gave me information we couldn’t beat out of someone,” and steve nods, his fingers rubbing at his stubble, tongue in his cheek, nodding with faux assurance. “uh huh. and what would that be?”

“she knows the route escobar’s gonna be using to his next hide out. she knows who’s accompanying him, she knows the times–steve,” his warmth leaves you when he stands to match his partner’s stature. “she’s got a shit ton of valuable info here, so why don’t you ease up on her?”

steve purses his lips, turning his gaze on you, and suddenly it feels like a spotlight is burning through your skin. “and how in the hell does pablo escobar’s maid know all this?”

“walls are thin. i hear them downstairs while i clean the upstairs, sound travels up the pipes in the bathrooms, it’s not impossible to listen in.” your explanations fall on uncaring ears, he’s already shaking his head.

“i don’t believe her. too convenient, and i doubt his men are that stupid to talk that loudly about their plans in front of the help,” he tilts his head at you, emphasizing when he says the help, and now it’s your turn to stand.

“fuck you,” you spit, surprising yourself when the words come out. javier moves in between you two when steve stalks towards you with a hard glare and a mouth fired and ready to remind you of your place.

“hey,” javier calls his attention back, steve’s eyes begrudgingly leaves your’s before he turns them back to his partner.

“if you trust me, you trust her.” he reminds and steve sighs longly, carding a hand through his hair. “also,” javier eyes over steve’s disheveled figure before looking back at him. “why’re you here?”

he drops down onto the chair beside the couch, legs spread, head rolled back against the cushion, his hand rubbing over his forehead. “connie. she wants an official separation.” your eyes widen in fake shock, shaking your head and looking away while he talks. “makes sense,” you mutter under your breath, somewhat satiating the hatefulness you want to spew at him.

“i’m sorry,” javier sighs, juxtaposing your unsympathetic reaction with a concerned one, coming over to press a hand to his shoulder. “we can talk about the routes tomorrow, we still have time. did you wanna…talk about it?” steve shakes his head, and you want to roll your eyes, praying javier sends him back home soon.

“no, it’s alright jav, just came by to see if you wanted to grab a drink but,” he’s looking at you again. “i see you’re busy.” javier smooths over his mustache, sighing quietly when he glances at you.

he wouldn’t mind going out with steve to some bar for a few hours, he can see the visible pain on his friend’s face, but your life is higher on his list of priorities, and he can’t get himself to leave you alone.

“i’m sorry murphy,” javier starts but steve shakes his head, holding a hand up to pause his apologies. “nah don’t be, i’ll get uh, outta your hair.” he gets up to leave and you feel like leaping into the air at your sweet success.

but javier cuts your joy short, immediately ejecting you from off of cloud nine when he stops steve from leaving.

he swipes the dust off his watch, checking the time before he looks over to steve. “look, it’s getting kinda late, why don’t you crash on my couch tonight? you can help yourself to the fridge, but i’m sure you’d raid it with or without my permission.” javi’s lip curls in tune with his joke and steve chuckles, easing away from his stress for the moment.

“yeah,” steve exhales, rubbing his knuckles under his eyebags. “alright,” he agrees.

javier nods, rustling steve’s shoulders with a grin. “i’ll grab you somethin’ you can sleep in, and y’know where the bathrooms at for when you wanna change.”

“thanks jav,” he calls out after him when he walks away, and you expel a breath of quiet annoyance, plopping down into the seat in front of steve.

he eyes you up and down, and you pull your legs together, resting your elbows on your knees, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs.

you hate him, you’ve never been more sure.

there’s multiple reasons why steve isn’t particularly fond of you. most reasons are arguably just his own projections. none of them are all that valid or have anything to do with the things you actually are responsible for.

for one, he doesn’t trust you. but someone else seems to. and to be fair, javi is a smart man who trusts those deserving of it, no disputing that.

however.

women are his weak spot, and if he were to get taken advantage of, it’d probably be by one. and he can’t shake the feeling that you’re doing just that.

maybe the information you give them is real, but then you could also be going off and warning escobar and his sicarios as soon as you get back to them, forever sending him and javier down an endless wild goose chase.

but then again, you do seem to be honest and genuine — at least your fear is when you stress how they cannot find out that you’re the rat amongst them.

that seems real.

and steve knows he shouldn't let that be why he treats you as rudely as he does. he additionally acknowledges the fact that you always smelling so annoyingly good that he can smell you before you even enter the room, is also not a valid reason to dislike you.

except, this?

this is a new, more realistic reason to not like you, he thinks.

you’re fucking loud.

he can hear your goddamn moaning through the thin wall separating javier’s bedroom and the couch he’s currently laying on. he’s starting to think there’s a chance you weren’t lying about hearing escobar’s plans through the walls while you cleaned.

he tosses and turns on the couch, trying to use the pillow javier gave him to muffle the sounds but god, it’s like you’re determined to make steve hear you.

all he can hear is your moans, your whiny mewls for javi, jaaavi, and he can hear his godforsaken partner, who he might request to be changed after this, groan your name, telling you how good you are, how perfect you are, calling you his hermosa — and it’s driving him crazy. in his descent into a sleepless delirium he begins to genuinely wish his hearing would go out, just for the night.

“what do you want?” javier breathed above you, your thighs on either side of his leg. his knee pushing right up against you there, teasing your clit.

you swallowed hard through heavy breaths, hands coming up to run down his jaw, your fingers brushing along his stubble. “i just wanna forget about what’s going on,” you responded, a sense of pleading under your breath while you spoke.

he kissed you, trickling his lips down your neck and chest. “puedo distraerte,” he murmured, his hands pulling your sweater over your tummy, replacing the wool with his lips.

his mouth was hot, and eager to latch over your clothed cunt, his tongue swirling around your clit, pulling a drawn out cry from amidst your bitten lips.

it’s been 30 minutes? an hour? an eternity? and you two are still at it from when that all started, and steve thinks he’ll die, in fact, he hopes he does. he’s lost connie, his kid, and now his sanity from hearing his partner fuck his 100th ‘informant’ just a wall away from him.

“oh my god!” you squeal, and nope, that’s it, he can’t do this.

he rips the blanket off his body, his sock covered feet landing on the carpet, carrying his haggard, exhausted, irritated, body to the bedroom.

he pushes open the door, cringing when you yell, avoiding looking at you while you grab the sheets to cover yourself. “steve what the fuck?” you shout, and javier huffs, lifting the sheets from off his head, moving away from the place between your thighs.

“do you fucking need something?” javier grits, and steve folds his arms over his chest, clenching his jaw when he sees your bodies shine with a sheen coat of sweat from the moonlight peeking in. he clears his throat, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with javier.

“i need you guys to shut the fuck up, that’s what i need. ‘been hearin’ you two all night, i can’t sleep.” he sneers, and javier scoffs, his eyes landing on the bulge steve is sporting behind the borrowed pair of sweats, feeling smug in place of embarrassment.

“yeah, i’m sure that’s why you can’t sleep.” he tilts his head downward toward his crotch, and steve grows hot, standing up straight when he grinds down on his bottom teeth.

javier sighs to himself, eyes glancing over steve, then panning to you beside him before he speaks again. “i don’t usually share but, i can make an exception tonight. only ‘cause you’ve got shit goin’ on.” javier shrugs, and both you and steve gape at him

“what?” you smack javier’s arm, feeling your face get hot at the mere idea of such a suggestion.

“stop playing around and just kick him out,” you whisper yell, but steve’s way ahead of you, already turning on his heel, wondering if he’ll be able to hail a cab this late at night.

“m’not kidding. steve, i’m serious,” he calls out, halting steve mid step. he turns back around slowly, facing you both now.

javier leans down, resting his chin on your neck, holding your arms in his hands. “steve’s handsome baby, don’t you think?” he whispers, his fingers trailing up and down your arms. your breath picks up when you really look over at steve.

he’s good looking, in fact, that was the first thought you had when you met him, but it all quickly went away when he began being rude to you.

and despite that, you find yourself giving in, nodding meekly. steve’s chest gets tight when you agree, his cock betraying him and twitching behind his shallow confinements. “steve, she’s pretty isn’t she?” he says temptingly, his voice a deep, rich siren song that pulls both you and steve right into his grasp.

steve’s jaw wants to lock on itself before he can say something he can’t take back, but it's too late, his logic and reason is slowly depleting from him just like the air in his lungs the more his eyes flicker between you and javier.

“yeah,” he croaks, and a ghost of a smile graces over your lips when he admits to your attractiveness. “you wanna show him how pretty you are quierda?” he whispers in your ear, and you nod a hypnotized yes, allowing him to hook his fingers under the sheets, slowly pulling it down to reveal your bare chest.

steve gets weak, his cock throbbing painfully in his boxers, he’s sure you can see it now, but he’d rather you feel it instead.

he wants to let his hand drift down to his cock, to ease the strain he feels but no, he won’t give in, he won’t seem weak, not in front of you, and definitely not in front of javier. he’d never hear the end of it.

he closes the door behind him and your heart picks up, clenching the bedspread beneath you when he starts to move in towards you both, eyes pointed at you like a hawk.

he forces your gaze on him, his finger under your chin, craning your neck upwards. his eyes bounce into yours and you feel small under his hold and stare, struggling to maintain the downward look he’s shooting your way. it lays over you heavily.

he pushes his thumb between your lips, watching you suck on it, teeth grazing the tip, a semblance of a smirk curling at the corners of your mouth when you stare back up at him.

steve already feels debilitated and he hasn’t even touched you yet. he doesn’t like that. he refuses to let you have this much control over him.

he’s going to make sure you stay in your place.

“alright.” he breathes out, pulling his thumb from you, turning to look at javier. “she listen well?” and you roll your eyes, scoffing quietly when you lean back into your preferred agent of the two.

“‘course she does,” he says proudly, rubbing your arm affectionately, sending a fluttery feeling to your lower stomach at the praise.

“think you can listen to me?” he murmurs to you when he leans down to your level, knees dipping into the mattress. you test the waters, eyeing him while he inches in closer, slowly erasing the space between you two breath by breath.

“what if i don’t feel like it?” you ask, words quiet amidst the air betwixt both your parted mouths. he chuckles something dark under his breath, eyes flickering from your lips back to your eyes. “if you wanna cum tonight i think you’ll listen to me.”

your breathing pauses in your throat at his statement, and you have no witty response to shoot back. you’re quiet.

finally, steve thinks, lightly snickering when you respond with nothing.

javier shifts around, sitting upwards and leaning into steve’s ear. “she likes it when you touch her like this, f’you wanna give her a reason to listen, do this.” he whispers, before moving back down to where you rest in his bed.

steve watches as javier moves the sheets, exposing your bare lower half. steve exhales sharply when his eyes focus on you, scanning the sight laid out for him.

you feel shy, your body being feasted on hungrily by the wandering eyes of two men who want nothing more than to devour you.

javier’s hand makes its way to your thigh, running the palm up and down slowly. “part your legs for me, quierda,” he says softly, and you do as he says, spreading yourself for both of them to see.

his fingers trace over your clit, running circles over it, keeping the pressure tight, focused, right where you need it to be. your breath picks up, your hand tightens around his wrist, your eyes falling shut at his touch.

steve stares at the way javier unravels you, taking his time to make you feel good. he knows what he’s doing, and he’s impressed by what he sees.

he wonders if you’d react the same way if it were his fingers. he wants to find out.

steve gets closer, he brings his middle finger to your lips, and you take him in with no need for verbal instructions, your tongue swirling around the digit while you push your hips onto javier’s fingers.

he slips it from out your lips, bringing it down to your cunt.

he breaches your entrance, dipping into you, and you gasp, eyes opening wide when you feel his finger, long, and thick, traveling into you, joining javier in the ministrations on your cunt.

you feel spoiled, with javier kissing your neck, whispering about how wet you are, and steve, his face just a single pull of air away from your’s while he curls his finger right where you crave to be touched.

his lips just barely brush your skin, occasionally gracing over your parted mouth when your head turns side to side from the steadily increasing pleasure that burns your skin.

you feel too proud to ask for a kiss, instead you try leaning into him, but he moves back just a little when you do. if you want something, you ask for it.

“steve,” you whisper breathlessly, chest heaving, pebbled nipples poking him through his white t shirt. “what?” he asks, and javier peers over at you two, feeling his cock twitch when he glances down, sight joining the sound of your soaked cunt taking their fingers.

you swallow away your pride piece by piece, it’s a painful feat but the rising need inside you is starting to override it.

“kiss me? please?” you hushedly plead with him, praying he obliges. javier sponges kisses across your shoulder while steve eyes you for a moment, visually tracing the curve of your lips, feeling a pair of hands restrain him away from taking your lips into his own. he wants to, but fuck, connie.

“gonna keep her waiting?” rings through his ears from javier, and he breaks from his trance, realizing that he’s already in too deep, connie’s gone, and kissing you won’t change that.

he lurches forward, kissing you hard, almost angrily. you nearly topple backward, but javier’s right there, he’s got you.

you whimper into his mouth, struggling to keep up with the way he moves against you. your hand strokes the strong arm belonging to javier, the other coming up to cup steve’s jaw.

his hand, big and strong, comes to your throat, keeping you in your place when he kisses you.

his teeth ghosts a bite on your bottom lip, his tongue running across it to smooth the tinge of pain away before it travels into your mouth, tasting the hint of something sweet on your tongue.

he groans in your mouth, the sound pulling a shiver from the depths of your spine. “make him feel good, quierda,” javier whispers, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, his mustache tickling your sensitive skin.

you nod mindlessly, silencing the whine that begs to come out when they shift away from you, withdrawing their hands from between your thighs.

you lean forward towards steve, fingers hooking under his sweatpants nervously while javier moves behind you, his warm hands panning over the curve of your ass, one of his favorite sights.

steve stares you down while you tug down the sweats along with the plaid boxers that rest on his hips, his lips curling up at the way your mouth falls when his cock springs up, hard, his flushed pink tip glistening with precum.

he’s just slightly longer than javier, cock not having as much girth as him but in no way, shape, or form, are either men small.

this is going to be quite the exploit.

“gonna stare at it or are you gonna suck it?” he half scoffs, hand traveling behind your neck, and you glare up at him from under your eyelashes, lowering yourself down to him. “just remembered why i don’t like you,” you grumble, your complaining cut short when you feel javier’s tongue back on your clit.

you whine, pushing back on his face when you sink your mouth down onto steve’s cock.

he hisses upon immediate contact, your mouth is hot, wet, perfect.

your moans vibrate around his cock from the way javier’s tasting you, his fingers pushing deep into your fluttering hole. he palms himself, running his thumb over his leaking tip when he peers over and watches the way you take his partner’s dick into your mouth.

you bob your head, rising up only to sink downward, eyes squeezing shut, trying your best to take as much of him in your mouth as you can but his length is not making it easy on you.

your tongue runs along the base of him, coming around to swirl over his tip when your lips encase it. he groans, head falling forward, eyes lowering beneath the bush of his brows at you.

javier can’t take it anymore, your little whimpers eliciting from the flick of his tongue, the way your hole squeezes around nothing, just begging to be filled, and the slick sound coming from your mouth when you suck over steve’s tip is too much, he needs you.

he rests back on his knees, aligning himself with your entrance before he pushes in, feeling a heavy sense of pride settle into his chest when you let out a drawn out moan of his name.

you slide your lips off of steve’s cock, replacing it with your hand when you turn over your shoulder to watch him put it in. “javi,” you croon through a tearful moan, eyebrows strung in an earnest curl.

he runs his thumb across your bottom lip when he’s fully inside you, a look of adoration screwed with pleasure casting over his face.

but steve’s hand is guiding your attention back to him, javi has enough of it anyways, and he’s pulling your jaw back onto him.

it’s hard to focus on trying to keep your pace and rhythm on steve’s cock when javier’s fucking you with everything he’s got, his cock nudging deep inside you, filling you out so good it makes your eyes roll back.

steve almost feels a little jealous, feeling like he deserves the same amount of acknowledgement you give javier. he holds you by the back of your head, making you give him more attention.

you gag, sliding off his cock, resting on your palms, jerking forward into his hips from javier’s thrusts, struggling to catch your breath. “uh uh,” he shakes his head, pushing you back down. “not gonna let you stop ‘til you suck it right sweetheart,” he mutters, and your face gets hot, ashamed at how his orders make you clamp down around javier’s cock.

javier groans at the way you’re gripping him, and he leans forward, pushing in even deeper, feeling pride fill him once more when you whine around steve’s cock.

“don’t be too rough with her,” he grunts, semi opposing his own words, rolling his hips in unbearably deeper, abusing the sensitive spongy spot inside you with the fat head of his cock.

steve dryly laughs, tilting his head at his partner before glancing down at you working him down your throat, eager to please him, eager to finally earn some praise from him.

“looks like can handle it. in fact, i think she likes it,” steve proves his point, pushing his hips in deeper, and you gag, but you tighten around javier at the force of action and he exhales humorously, pursing his lips.

he bends down, kissing your shoulder blade. “quierda, quierda, taking us both so well,” his voice careens around you like the drag of his palm over your skin.

“s’right, take it,” steve murmurs, his hand just behind your jaw, thumb running across the tears that stream down your cheek.

your eyes shutter closed, body content with being filled front to back so wholly, the men who occupy you grunting with primal approval.

javier’s fingers inch over your clit, rubbing the little soaked button as a reward, and you cry around steve’s cock, hands gripping tighter onto the sheets at the stimulation. the way his cock prods into you, paired with the swirl of the pads of his fingers over your clit feels earth shattering.

steve’s eyes drift over to javier, his broad shoulders adorned in scratches from presumably you, the downward pull of your nails across his skin was probably created moments before he came into the bedroom. his cock twitches inside your mouth at the thought.

javier’s eyebrows are pulled together, eyes narrowed down at your body, hips pulling back only to ram back into you at full force with a certain precision that has you crying around steve’s cock.

he’s fucking you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do and steve can’t help but watch.

his thrusts pick up speed inside your mouth, the itch you’re satiating just grows and grows and he can’t stop chasing the relief you provide him.

javier’s gaze that follows the way you bounce from each thrust he pounds into you shifts into an upward stare back to steve’s intent eyes, and he exhales heavily, jaw clenching tightly.

the men watch each other, the sound of your moans and gagging mixed with their low and thick grunts and groans is something that will float back into your minds when you all separate, forever haunting you in the wake of silent moments.

steve finds his eyes landing over javier’s lips, watching the way his tongue darts out and drags across his bottom lip and he swallows back the thick groan that wants to leave.

he falls forward, his cock pushing in deeper between your lips, his head resting on javier’s shoulder while he grinds into your mouth.

he inches his hips back, keeping his cock down your throat but still allowing you some leeway to pull off for air while he finds refuge on the broad expanse of javier’s shoulder.

their shared groans of your name fall into each other’s mouths and you whimper, pushing your ass onto javier, mouth sucking around steve fervently, desperate to please both men.

steve’s mouth drops open when you suction your lips around the head of his cock, teasing him with the fat stripe of your tongue and he shivers, his teeth baring down against javier’s flesh.

he winces at the pain, but he likes it, he accepts it, welcomes it.

“she feel good?” steve drones in a low groan, and javier holds your hips, pulling you all the way down on his cock, making eye contact with steve when your sobs rack around his cock, watching the way his eyes screw shut. “feels amazing, squeezin’ me so good,” he grunts, his hand coming down to lay a hard smack over the fat of your ass.

you yelp at the rough affection, the little squeaking sound coming out muffled from the activity currently preoccupying your mouth, prompting a cocky breathless chuckle from steve when he leans back, eyes falling over your pretty face.

“if i knew she could put this mouth to use other than runnin’ it i would’ve had her on her knees sooner,” he relents airlessly, heavy pants leaving past his lips. javier laughs hazily, leaning in, his cock shoving itself deeper inside you while his hips mold over your’s like broken pieces reconnecting.

his hand wraps around your throat, lips sponged gently to your ear. “i think steve just paid you a compliment, hermosa,”

you look up at steve, doe eyed with long wet lashes, blinking appreciatively, feeling warm all over when he taps your cheek with his palm, not hard, but not gentle either. you take whatever you can from him.

steve rolls his head back up to javier, twirling his finger to the side, motioning for the pair to switch. he wants a turn inside you.

“why don’t you ask me nicely?” he says through a soft gruff breath, leaning in closer to his face, his hips clasping tightly over yours, his cock burying itself so far in your cunt it burrows in your tummy.

you whine around steve’s cock, his hand coming to the back of your head to pacify you while he scoffs at javier.

“‘scuse me?”

“i said, why don’t you ask me. nicely?” javier repeats, his head tilting to the side.

asshole.

steve’s jaw hinges forward with irritation, his eyes falling down to where your ass and javier’s hips meet, his chest settling into a deep pit of desire, slowly plucking away his inhibitions of trying to seem like he’s in control.

“please,” his voice shakes a little, the desperate plea beneath his hushed words.

javier’s brow flicks up, lips pursing with satisfaction and he pauses inside you, prompting your swollen lips to roll from off steve’s cock, turning into a disappointed pout when you look at him from behind your shoulder.

“what’s wrong?” you rasp, and steve takes in his bottom lip, his top lip perking in smugness at your voice.

“are you okay with us…switching?” javier asks, running his hand along your hip softly. the nerves in your tummy tighten like the strings on a corset, sucking you in and stealing your breath at the thought of him fucking you.

you turn back to look at steve, before you’re swallowing away your pride, nodding in agreement.

a grin spreads across his face, and he pats your cheek, whistling when he twists his finger in the air once more. “get over here an’ turn around for me,”

your eyes start to roll at his orders, the action cut short when the loss from javier makes you wince. “yessir officer sir,” you joke dryly through a breath, a part of you not wanting to let on how excited you really were for this.

steve’s cock twitches at your joking, unaware of how much he really liked that.

javier lays further into the bed, arm behind his head while he watches you crawl towards him. an excited glint shines for a passing second in his eyes when he watches the way steve stares down your every movement, eyes following each and every little sway your ass makes before him.

your hands rest on javier’s thighs before they’re slipping off him, panickedly grasping for the mattress when steve’s pushing you into the bed, shoving your face beside javier’s knee and hoisting your ass up for him.

he breathes out a heavy, content sigh when his palms encase your ass, your glistening cunt just weeping for him.

it’s steve’s turn to be greeted by your face craned behind your shoulder, cute little features contorted in a curious pleasure, eyebrows pulled together, bitten lips pouted while he cocks his head at you.

he grabs your wrists, letting your cheek shift and fall to javier’s thigh.

javier graces his hand behind your neck soothingly, silently making up for his partner’s rough actions.

steve’s cock grazes against your cunt and you shiver, feeling him press up onto you, his hips flush to your ass while he wrangles your wrists together. “hands behind your back, hermosa.” his mustache tickles at your ear, your lips trembling against the hot skin of javier’s thigh. he taunts you with the pet name, reminding you he’s heard your pathetic mewls and moans you so graciously gave to javi.

it was his turn to earn some of that graciousness.

“s’bout time you show me some goddamn respect,” he mutters in your ear, flicking his head up towards javier who’s watching intently, his cock aching at the sight.

“you got your cuffs?” he asks and your back stiffens.

uh oh.

javier’s lips curl evilly and he chuckles below a breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “yeah. need ‘em?” he responds knowingly and you crane your neck up at him, eyes peering at him pitifully.

javier purses his lips at you with faux sympathy, running his thumb across your lips before he’s looking back at steve for confirmation.

steve nods and javier doesn’t argue.

he opens the first drawer on the nightstand beside his bed, his hand returning with a pair of silver handcuffs.

he tosses them to steve and he catches it dutifully, unlatching them before he puts them around your wrists, seconds away from locking the cold metallic constraints tight and in place.

you’re turning back to look at steve, imploring with him desperately to not use the cuffs on you. “no no please, sir i don’t want the cuffs,” you whimper against the flesh of javier’s thigh, your sounds traveling straight to his cock.

steve didn’t even have to tell you to keep calling him sir, you barely even realize what you’re saying at this point, it all just feels like babble coming mindlessly from out your bitten lips.

steve’s throat gets tight at your pleas, the title of respect you’ve given him without even realizing what you’ve said makes his cock throb against your soaked cunt, itching to just push inside you.

“too bad. you can earn your way outta them.” he offers, running his hand across the curve of your ass before he speaks again.

“you’re gonna be fuckin’ good for me like you were for him, you hear me?” he orders, the air in his words thick with authority. you nod feebly and he smacks your ass, the sheer force from his hand pushing you further onto javier’s lap. you cry out, the pain vibrating through your flesh.

before you have time to speak or think or breathe, he shoves himself inside you, no resistance from your needy, drenched hole. he groans when he forces himself in all the way, your cries from his cock floats around in the thick air like music to his ears.

you lower your mouth down onto javier’s cock, trying to busy your mind away from the intense feeling of being rocked forward endlessly by the fluid motions of steve shoving his cock into you.

he’s fucking the length of his cock in your little hole, molding your cunt to the extent of it. his cockhead kisses your cervix with each rough thrust he impales you with.

javier’s head rolls back when your tongue curls around his shaft the way he likes, the tip of it running along a vein of his, his breathing starting to falter all over again.

it’s harder sucking javier like this, you can’t rely on your hands to please what you can’t reach, your drool dribbles down the base of his cock, the place where your hands would normally be, but javier doesn’t mind, he could almost kiss steve for giving him the gift of watching you struggle and gag around his cock like this, drooling like a fucked out slut.

steve’s lost in his own physical realm of pleasure where nothing exists except for his cock burrowed in the wet tunnel of your cunt, his cock head ramming into your sweet cervix uncaringly, cruelly.

he relishes with his head fallen forward at the way your sobs come out muffledly from the sound of his partner’s cock down your throat, because of him. it’s because of his cock you’re crying out like this.

his blonde hair falls limp with sweat in his eyes, but he doesn’t mind it, his lids fall heavy with blinding pleasure, his hand pressing you down by your lower back, forcing you to arch further on his cock.

the two men find endless pleasure with you, you’re the gift that keeps on giving, and they will happily keep on taking.

javier’s head rolls towards you, chin resting low while he stares down your bobbing head that struggles to fully lower down onto him.

but it’s just so cute the way you struggle, he loves watching you try to be so good for him and take him as far as you can into your mouth.

you’re definitely his sweetest informant to date.

“fuck,” he breathes out, the crown of his head falling back to his headboard, your suctioning lips sucking the head of his cock too well, that it makes him feel lightheaded.

his hands, on the edge of callousing, come over the curve of your ass, gripping the fat of it, pulling you apart to sneakily look at your little hole, feeling his cock throb inside you when he imagines the other things he’d like to do to you.

the things connie would never allow, which is okay, he respected that.

but you?

he’s sure you’d do just about anything he or javier asked of you. and he’s willing to bet with enough sweet words from javier and sternness from himself, they could get you right where he wanted you.

he tilts his head, rolling his hips into you deep and hard, enjoying every little jolt forward you make onto javier’s cock while he thumbs over your hole, wondering if maybe you’d let him have you that way next time.

fuck.

will there be a next time?

he really, really hopes so.

you shiver when you feel his thumb swipe over that part of yourself, mouth sliding off javier’s cock to catch your breath and shut your eyes at the feeling.

javier’s cupping your face, a sharp exhale from his nose replacing whatever jumble he was about to say when your tongue flicks over his tip, enveloping him down your throat once more.

steve’s leaning over your body, his cock traveling in too far inside you, naturally pulling a drawn out cry from around javier’s cock. javier pants, head falling back at the vibrations between his thighs.

“fuckin’ tight,” steve groans, his forehead resting on your shoulder, forcing himself to keep his eyes open to peer up at javier.

his brown hair has fallen damp just under his eyebrows, tickling his lashes, his mouth is drawn open, wispy murmurs of your name pouring out like a chant amidst a ritual, holy and sacred.

“for a whore,” steve adds, and javier chuckles through a breathy moan, the way you clamp down around his cock at his comments is not lost on him. his fingers find your clit, and you tense, your back immediately falling into a deeper arch, desperate to feel more of him.

you come up for air, needing a break from the soreness trickling along your jaw, your gaze now ascending towards javier, looking up at him with big watery eyes. you instinctively leaning into his warm palm that comes to cradle your face while your stare lingers over him.. “i’m so close,” you whimper and just like that, steve’s fingers withdraw from your clit and instead go back into digging into the plump flesh around your hips.

javier looks up at steve, joining you in your confused stare. “steve please,” you plead, struggling to look at him through the rough jolts from his hard thrusts. “c’mon,” javier’s honeyed tone calls his attention and steve looks over at him, tilting his head. “i don’t think she’s earned it,” he looks back down at you, brings his lips to your ear and grows smug when you cry out from the way his cock intrudes into you even deeper. “if you wanna cum you better work for it. girl.”

javier’s cock twitches in your grasp at the way steve talks to you, and you’re just about pulsing around him, eager to prove you deserve to cum, you’re hungry for it.

your mouth is back on javier, watching the way his eyes screw shut and his brows furrow once more when your tongue drags all around him, trying to also greedily take in as much of steve as you can, pushing onto him, wanting nothing more than to be fully enveloped by him.

his fingers tease your clit, gracing you with fleeting touches that make your skin prickle over into a fiery heat only for it to be immediately extinguished when he pulls them away. you’re trying your hardest to continue to make javier feel good, and your efforts are definitely not for nothing. his breathing grows more staggered, his thrusts into your mouth lose their pattern, he’s holding you by the back of your neck, forcing himself to lean forward and watch you take his cock down your throat.

“fuck, fuck, take it, take it yeah, shit,” he pants, fucking your jaw through his orgasm, his hips hitting your chin with every rough piston he makes. you’re squeezing your teary eyes shut, trying to take both him and steve abusing your holes the best way you can.

he slides his cock out from your lips, gently wiping away your sweaty forehead while you fight to catch your breath. each gasp of air is pulled away from you by the rough impaling by steve’s cock that hits you deep over and over.

“did so good for me querida,” he whispers to you softly, juxtaposing the way you’re getting fucked by his partner. you just whimper at his praises, wriggling your hands around in your cuffs. javier doesn’t ask steve before he acts, he just grabs the keys and unlocks you, feeling slight guilt when you wince and sigh in relief when you’re finally free from your constraints.

steve glares at javier and he ignores it, rubbing your wrists soothingly while steve slows his thrusts.

you almost panic, worried he won’t let you cum at all now, you bring wrists behind your back once more for him, and the purest and most intense form of pride blooms in the depths of his chest at your little actions. he grips your wrists together in one hand, making eye contact with javier while he speeds up his thrusts inside your soaked cunt.

javier’s spent cock throbs and he swallows hard, his chest rising and falling heavily. “sweet isn’t she?” javier utters, watching the way steve’s hips pull and push into your’s. with a side perk of his lips he shrugs, running his free hand over the curve of your ass. “yeah. when she feels like it.”

javier chuckles, bringing his fingers to your clit, keeping the pads of his digits still. you look at him, wordlessly pleading with him to override steve’s rules and let you cum. “you make him feel good quierda, an’ i’ll make sure you get what you want.” and with a kiss to your forehead, that’s all you’re left with.

he drinks in your moans, his lips falling to yours, keeping your face tucked into his palms while steve chases his orgasm inside you. he’s lost in you, you’re all encompassing, the way you’re gripping onto him, your cries for him getting drowned out in javier’s mouth – fuck, you’re too much.

you break apart from javier’s lips, unable to keep going like this without cumming. after all, you were never the patient type to begin with. “please steve, feel’s so good, i need to cum, please let me, promise m’gonna be so good,” you’re near tears, ready to beg and plead with steve for however long it takes. javier looks at him along with you, his cheek resting on your forehead. “let her,” javier orders instead of suggesting, and steve doesn’t have it in him to argue or deny you any longer.

his fingers inch over your clit, rubbing the sticky little button in the way you need, and you sob in relief, your cheek falling onto the mattress, letting your body be overtaken by the older man, your fingers intertwining with his while he pounds your orgasm into you. “thank you thank you thank you,” you cry through a series of shaky drawn out moans. you gush around him, panting loudly, losing all the air in the room while you cum. your body feels like it’s going to explode and honestly, it just might.

steve assaults every single sensitive spot inside your body, his fingers on your clit staying put, your legs in return turning into jello, trembling hard with erratic shakes.

“bet y’don’t think i’m that bad now huh?” he whispers in your ear, and you shake your head dumbly, resting your head on javier’s lap while steve continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

he’s getting sloppy, he’s close, he can feel it. “i wanna cum in you, jus’ like this, gonna let me? as a lil’ thanks baby?” he grunts and javier runs his finger across your cheek, lowering his voice towards you. “gonna let him querida?”

your words barely find you, all you can feel is steve’s cock buried deep in your tummy, words don’t even seem real in this moment. “cum in me,” you manage to murmur, your sore clit tingling at the thought of his cum pouring out of you.

steve didn’t need to hear anything else, your meek words of permission played on a loop inside his head while he holds on tighter onto your hips, pulling you down on his cock, his hot cum spurting deep inside you. he groans, his head falling back, mindless utterances of how good your fuckin’ pussy feels, dissipates into the thick air.

he pushes in a few more thrusts until his cock softens, and he tucks himself away into his boxers. he eyes your spent, sweat coated body before he lays down beside you. javier pulls the sheets over your bodies, letting you bury your face into his chest. steve gets stiff, is he overstaying his welcome?

you seem to read his mind, because you’re pulling his arm around your side, keeping him close to you. he smiles to himself, and clasps his front around your back, glancing up at a pleased looking javier.

javier winks at steve before his attention returns back to you. “you okay querida? feel alright?” he asks gently, and you nod sleepily in his arms, yawning tiredly. “mhm, just really sleepy,” you mumble, and javier shushes you, kissing your hairline. “s’okay, you can rest now.”

steve kisses your shoulder, surprising himself by the gentleness in his actions. he’s too tired to analyze anything right now, he just lets himself rest beside you. “night murphy.” javier hums and steve chuckles breathlessly. “yeah, night javi.”

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #steve murphy #boyd holbrook #pedro pascal #steve murphy x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #steve murphy x you #javier pena x reader x steve murphy #narcos netflix #narcos smut #narcos fanfiction

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thetriplets3 · 7 months

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❝𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮❞

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ⋆｡⋆

{𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫}

when chris cares about someone he will go to the end of the earth to make sure they’re okay. sure he can be goofy and childlike but he’s got a heart of gold, wanting to make sure everyone is taken care of before himself. that’s what i love about him, which is why he was the first one to notice i was sick.

the triplets and i had planned to go to the flea market in town at 2 but when chris hadn’t hear from me by 1:30 he called me to make sure i didn’t forget.

“hey are you ready yet? we’re leaving soon”

“hi uh no i woke up this morning feeling like i’ve been run over by multiple trains i feel like shit so not i can’t go” i croak.

“why didn’t you tell me earlier? i could have come by”

“i slept like crap because everything hurts to move and breathe so i stayed in bed hoping i’d fall asleep and that you guys would forget about the flea market because i felt bad for ruining the plans”

“forget the flea market it’s literally every week you don’t need to feel bad. you come first. i’m coming over and no i don’t care if i get sick i drink so many Pepsi’s a day if that hasn’t done anything to me getting a cold is nothing. i’m coming over whether you like it or not”

“fine. can you please tell matt and nick i’m sorry and that i’ll make it up to them. they are so excited for us to go”

“you don’t have to apologize i’ll tell them your sick, they’ll understand. they can still go if they want”

“if you say so. doors locked so use your key i’m gonna try to sleep” my voice trails off.

“i’ll see you soon i just gotta do a few things first, get some sleep”

chris pov:

2:23pm

walking upstairs i find matt on the sofa ready to leave.

“i just called y/n to see if she was ready but she got called into work someone didn’t show up for their shift. she said to tell you guys she’s sorry she didn’t tell us earlier her morning was hectic trying to leave last minute, she felt bad”

“that’s okay we can go next week. did you and nick wanna still go?”

“i’d rather wait til we all can go. if that’s cool?”

“of course, i’ll let nick know”

while matt heads upstairs to talk to nick i sit on the couch and think about what excuse i can make to get out of the house without them coming. sending a text in our groupchat i send an excuse.

i’m gonna go shoot some more photos for the new fresh love drop with brandon (aka gwhip333)

cool, you need a ride?

nah i’m good i can uber

when they model each others brand 😩

bro you’re weird

i’ll probably be back later tonight we’ll probably order food so don’t worry about me

we always worry about you, you’re a very concerning person

aw under that cold exterior you care about me, how sweet. i’m leaving

and with that i was on my way to her house without nick and matt knowing. i didn’t tell them because i know she hates being the center of attention and the last thing she wants is for 3 people to loom over her making sure she’s okay. so i’m going alone.

readers pov:

the rustling in the kitchen causes me to wake up for a second before realizing it’s probably chris, a burglar would make more of an attempt to be quiet. pulling my duvet up to my chin, i’m out like a light. i’m gently woken by chris. he knows better than anyone to wake me up gently and carefully.

he learned that the hard way.

he walked in my room one day, climbed in my bed, and made himself comfortable. being a fairly heavy sleeper, i didn’t hear or feel him come in. i rolled over in my sleep, i was met with a body. my natural instinct, in my half asleep state, was to smack and flail at whatever was in my reach. which happened to be chris’ face. hearing i’m yelp and call my name i woke up in seconds.

“what the fuck chris?! why would you sneak in here when i’m sleeping are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“i was gonna wake you up in few minutes, you just looked so peaceful i didn’t want to disturb you, i didn’t know trying to be nice was gonna get me bitch smacked” he grumbled.

“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to hit you i was scared” my voice small, yet filled with guilt and concern. “you can’t sneak up on me like that”

“i should have expected that to happen” he laughed.

sitting up, i grab ahold of his chin gently turning it to the side i smacked.

a sad sigh escapes my lips “i left a mark” i frown.

“don’t worry about it it doesn’t hurt, i kinda deserved it” he reassures me.

“you kinda did” i laughed.

so now chris knows to not be so silent when waking me up. he sits beside me on my bed and starts quietly talking to me, slowly getting a little louder when he sees me stir. like a feather, his fingers delicately graze my cheeks, making their way to my knotted hair, tucking the stray, sweat soaked pieces out of my face.

my eyes flutter open, promptly squeezing shut as the brightness hits my eyes. groaning, for multiple reasons; being woken up, the brightness, and suddenly feeling all the aches and pains. i nudge my head towards chris’ hand on my cheek, enjoying his warmth and touch.

“well hello you ball of germs” he lovingly joked.

all i can do is glare at him however pain and misery are evident in my appearance. my forehead creased from the crushing pressure in my head, my limbs tight and scrunched from the aches and pains shooting through my body, and a frown replacing my usual smile.

“i’m not gonna bother asking how you feel because i already know the answer so i’ll skip to is there anything i can do for you?”

“i don’t know. uh maybe the heat pack? everything hurts so much” i tear up.

with a swipe of my stray tears and a quick "I'll be right back" he's off scouring my apartment. within minutes he’s back, plugging in the heat pack before getting in bed and leaning against the headboard. not only did he come back with the heat pack, he also came bearing a CVS bag.

“okay i’ve got cold meds, cough lozenges, fuzzy socks because i know you love them, your favorite soup, voltaren to put on where your achey, fruit snacks to munch on, tissues obviously, and this little penguin stuffy i couldn’t leave with out it” he explains in a hushed tone.

“thank you chris, you didn’t have to”

“i know but i wanted to, i wanna take care of you. you’re always there for me so whatever you need i’m here. now come cuddle you need sleep”

snuggling up to chris with my head on his chest and my arm draped across his body clutching his shirt. he wraps his arms securely around me. one hand holding the heat pack against my back and the other massaging my scalp, both helping my headache and making me sleepy.

i wake up confused when chris isn’t beside me but the rattling and banging in the kitchen answered any questions i had. slowly but surely i make my way to the bathroom. as i’m leaving i hear my phone ding. a text from matt reads,

hey kid how’s it going? i know you were looking forward to the flea market we’ll all go next week

i’m slowly rotting away in bed i feel like i’ve been run over been a bus. you guys could have gone without me but thank you for waiting to go with me

3rd person pov:

it’s then that matt realizes he’s been told 2 different stories. chris said y/n couldn’t go because she got called into work and y/n just told him she’s sick. immediately he knows who’s telling the truth because y/n wouldn’t lie, she’s too honest for her own good. not mentioning this mix up to y/n he tells her he hopes she feels better and to call him if she needs anything.

matt can’t help but smirk. he caught his younger brother in a lie that showed him everything he needed to know to confirm his suspicions. matt knew from the start that something was off with chris’ story because brandon was in NY for the week. both matt and nick knew something weird was going on but they needed chris to get himself caught in a lie to know if they were right.

chris’ pov:

i stood over the counter carefully watching the soup cook not wanting to burn it. just as i turn the heat down, my phone buzzes in my pocket. it’s a text from nick,

how’s shooting going? matt and i miss brandon tell him we need to hang out together soon

my breath hitches, i need to keep my lie going.

good these are turning out dope i can’t wait to see the final version. he was just saying that earlier we’ll plan something

your pov:

i muster up the energy to take a shower and wash my hair just not to the extent to normal would. over the sound of the cascading water i think i heard a knock but it’s heard to tell. it could be chris destroying my kitchen.

i get changed into one of chris’ hoodies i borrowed a while ago and never gave back and a pair of sweats. towel drying my hair i try to soak up as much water as i can, hating hating the feeling of wet hair. feeling my stomach grumble i follow the smell of soup to the kitchen only to be met with nick and matt sitting across from chris having some silent triplet conversation.

“hi what’s going on?” my voice hoarse.

chris’ pov:

sitting atop the counter beside the stove so i can keep an eye on the soup, i play games on my phone waiting for y/n to finish in the shower. a soft knock on the front door catches my attention. opening the front door, assuming it was a delivery driver dropping off a package, i’m surprised to see matt and nick. i probably look just as confused as they do. they make their way in and we settle on the couch, i feel like a kid about to get in trouble.

“dude why’d you make up a lie you could have told us you were coming to take care of her which might i add is a very boyfriend thing to do”

“i just- i wanted to come and take care of her, that’s not a boyfriend thing it’s called i care about her, i want to make sure she’s okay and that i can help her out if she needs it”

“yeah sure whatever but alone? that’s the weird part. why can’t you just admit you like her?”

“okay fine i do! i wanted to hang out with her without you buffoons there. i want to take care of her, make sure she’s okay. i love seeing this soft, gentle, affectionate side of her. i love being the first person she calls when she wants help or is having a bad day and just wants my company.i love being with her and these moments don’t happen when you bozos interfere”

“we already knew your undying love for her. the way you drop everything when it comes to her. your heart eyes are so obvious. how affectionate, gentle, and calm you are with her. you know when we’re out in a group or crowd i always catch you searching for her, smiling when you spot her, knowing she’s safe. when she’s around, she’s the only person in the room to you”

a little stunned that he knew all that but i kinda expected that from him. i have nothing to say so i just nod, agreeing with him.

the creaking floor board directs my attention to the stairs, y/n’s come up for lunch. matt, nick, and i look back and forth between each other. i know they’re wanting me to say something to her about how i feel but now isn’t the time.

“hi what’s going on?” her voice is scratchy.

nick and matt say their hellos as i get up leaving to talk to each other while i go meet y/n in the kitchen.

“how ya feeling? did the shower help?”

“a little, i’m still achey and in pain, my head hurts, and i’m tired. can you come cuddle?”

her beautiful blue eyes looking up at me, silently pleading, i can’t say no to that. “here, go have some soup in bed and i’ll be there in a second okay?”

your pov:

i carefully take the warm bowl of soup downstairs to my bed, eating it while i wait for chris. 5 minutes later, my door slowly cracks open to reveal chris with a soft smile adorning his face.

“i’m all yours now. let’s cuddle but first let me put the voltaren on that’ll help your aches. where’s it hurt?”

“um uh my-my back and neck mainly” i stumble over my words knowing you’ll be putting it on my back. very intimate action.

laying on my stomach without my head to the side, duvet cover pulled back, chris sits beside me pulling my oversized shirt up so he can access my back and starts putting the lotion on. once he’s done he makes his way under the covers letting me rest my head on his chest. his cologne brings me comfort just like the feeling of my hand gently massaging my back as he holds me.

“thank you for taking care of me. you’re so good to me.” no one has ever cared for me the way chris does. he’s shown me what it’s like to be loved.

“i’d do anything for you, you know that. i love taking care of you, moments like this are my favorite. now get some sleep i’m not going anywhere.

“i love you”

“i love you sweet girl”

little did they both know, they actually meant it.

thank you @abbie13sworld for giving me this request

taglist: @antisocialties @iluvmatt @dwntwn-strnlo @fake-coolbeans @opheliaofficial07 @angelcake-222 @oneirophobic @strniolo @lollibumblebee @ssturniolo @20nugs @abbie13sworld

#sturniolo triplets #she/her reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader

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sky-casino · 1 year

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dabi x reader: she was sunshine, he was midnight rain

pairing: dabi x fem!reader (within canon)

genre: angst, some fluff

word count: 2,300+

synopsis: you're a doctor in kyudai garaki's hospital and he chooses you for a special and highly confidential task: be the sole person to take care of the villain dabi and his burn scars.

a/n: this man got me in a chokehold istg 💀😭 dabi (and the todoroki family) got me into MHA last december. and so this is my first MHA fic. hope you enjoy~

when doctor garaki and AFO finally accepted LOV after shigaraki tamed gigantomachia, he intended to start taking care of dabi's scars. garaki and AFO wanted to make sure that everyone is in top shape, especially dabi since he's the only one in LOV who has a quirk that can be used for long-range combat.

so garaki hired you—a doctor who works for him at the jaku general hospital specializing in treating burns—to take care of dabi's scars and overall health. his offer entails you to leave your current position in the hospital to solely work for him and dabi. and of course, a pay that's much higher than your current one.

you're quirkless and a good person who have always wanted to help others, which is why you became a doctor. so you were terrified to know that your former boss is a villain and that you are now in charge of taking care of one. if you refuse, of course they'll have to kill you so you wouldn't tell anyone about what they just told you.

hence, your weekly session with dabi starts. garaki wanted you to facilitate the sessions in your own apartment so it'll be safe for both you and dabi, instead of the two of you having to go somewhere else which increases the risk of heroes and police finding the two of you, especially dabi who's a wanted criminal.

treating dabi's scars requires dabi taking his clothes off, except for his underwear because according to him, he doesn't have burns there. you agree without any further questions. it also requires you gently cleaning and exfoliating the scars to remove any dirt or dead skin. after cleaning, you instruct him to submerge himself in your bath tub where the water has some medication mixed in it to soothe the scars. after he dries himself, that's where you carefully wipe his scars with more medication using cotton balls and the like. overall, it's an intimate activity, which you are used to because you’re a doctor. but dabi seems a bit stiff and awkward sometimes, which he successfully masks under his perpetual smirks.

your first few sessions are mostly quiet and awkward. but as time goes by, dabi has started to become more talkative. he always asks you questions about yourself, telling you that he of course wants to know more about his own personal doctor. he asks simple questions like what's your favorite food, favorite color, hobbies. scared of angering him, you respond to his inquiries. eventually, you start to ask him about himself too but not forgetting the disclaimer that he doesn't have to answer them if he doesn't want to. you're afraid that he might think you're nosy. to your surprise, he smiles genuinely when he replies.

one day, you start finding takeout food on your dining table with a note from dabi on days where you two have no scheduled sessions. and eventually, he starts bringing food that you can enjoy together before and after your 4-6 hours sessions.

you begin to spend more time together but in an unplanned manner. he would suddenly knock on your door or even sneak through your window at night covered in dirt and fresh scars, which he gets from altercations against both heroes and petty villains. or from drunk fights at the bar. he'd ask if he can take a shower and if you could attend to the wounds, to which you oblige. sometimes, when it's too late into the night and he's too exhausted to go back to the league's hideout, you just let him stay.

in the morning, there are times where you'd find him cooking simple breakfast for the two of you as thanks for letting him stay. or sometimes he'd just leave food for you and be gone before you wake up. this amuses you, thinking that what he'd do in the morning depends on his mood.

unlike before wherein he leaves as soon as the session ends, now the two of you watch movies together while eating dinner. one time, you fell asleep before the movie ended and he carried you to your bed.

you're surprised to find that the villain has a warm and friendly side to him, which you didn't expect at all. you're the same age and you enjoy getting along with him.

and to be honest, there are times when you feel like he's flirting with you. but you dismiss the idea right away, thinking that it's impossible. knowing what you know about dabi, strength is important to him, so why would he be interested in a weak and quirkless girl like you?

but surprising you with food regularly and the vague words of flirtation would all be set aside when he begins making physical moves on you.

staring at your face and your lips as you meticulously replace his surgical staples and wipe his scars with medication.

closing the distance between the two of you as often as he can, like when you eat, watch movies, and wash the dishes together.

slithering his index finger into your medical glove and onto your palm as he stands closely behind you where you can feel his breath behind your head. your heart is racing as you feel and watch his slithering finger. after some seconds, you pulled away your right hand and walked away from him without saying anything, focusing on doing some work instead.

there's a short silence before dabi leaves and says, "bye, see you next week" normally, as if that whole intimate thing didn't just happen.

your next session is quieter than usual, which feels just like the first time. but now there's an unspeakable tension brewing in the air. it feels heavy. it's already evening when the session ends. your back towards dabi as you clean up. dabi is putting on his coat as he watches you, until he decides to finally break the hours-long silence.

"can i kiss you?"

"what do you want, dabi?"

"i just said it. a kiss-"

"why do you want to kiss me?" you finally face him.

"you know the answer to that, doll." he smirks.

"no. no, i don't, dabi." you're surprised to feel tears prickling your eyes as you walk towards him. "i'm not gonna kiss you just because you tell me to. i'm not here to play your games."

"it's not a game." his tone suddenly stern and serious, smirk disappearing.

"yeah? answer my question, then."

dabi takes a slow and deep sigh before he answers, his eyes not leaving yours.

"i want to kiss you because i want you. i have all these feelings inside me that i'm experiencing for the first time. even when i busy myself with missions, even when i'm not here with you and i'm somewhere else, you're all i can think of. i want to see you all the time, hear your voice all the time, feel your touch all the time... even though it's just to treat my scars because that's what you're paid to do." he says with a painful smile. "i don't know know what to do with these feelings. i really don't, y/n. so... i'm sorry if i made you think that i'm just playing."

you're too stunned to speak or move after hearing him ramble on about his feelings. it's hard to believe, but the villain right in front of you just confessed to you.

you don't even realize that the tears have fallen until dabi wipes them away. you see his worried face as he blames himself.

"kiss me... before i change my mind." you whisper to him as you close your eyes.

you two make it official and dabi begins spending more days and nights in your place. you're practically living together, except for when he has to go for missions and meetings with the paranormal liberation front. for some time, he considers bringing you to the mountain villa so you'll be closer to him, but his overprotective self doesn’t push through with it as he doesn’t want other villains around you. he’s also worried that you might be caught in the crossfire if ever the heroes find their hideout and ambush them.

for dabi, it's the first time something besides getting revenge has got him excited. it's the first time he has something to look forward to every day, and all of it feels surreal and foreign. it's the first time he feels love again.

when dabi is 100% sure that he can trust you, he divulges his identity and goals to you and only you, not even his comrades know about this information.

he tells you of his life as touya and how dabi was born. you cry as you listen to him and by the end of his story, you're a sobbing mess.

"why are you crying?" he laughs as he cuddles you.

"who wouldn't after hearing all that?"

you accept him for who and what he is, yes. but without being too pushy, you persuade him to just run away from everything. run away together to a more peaceful place where no one knows the two of you. start a new life together. he said that would be lovely, but as much as he wants to, he can't. he's gone too far now just to turn back and leave.

you let go of the run-away suggestion and move to plan b. the next time he stays in your place, you convince him that releasing the video publicly is enough to exact revenge on his father. he can let the angry mob do their thing and he doesn't have to stain his hands with the blood of his father and brother. to no avail yet again.

although the two of you are happy together, dabi can't help but feel guilty and inadequate. because of his identity as a villain and a wanted criminal, you can't go on normal dates like eating at restaurants and watching movies in the cinemas. you can't even go to the nearby grocery together.

he also feels terrible for making you worry every time he comes home with fresh burns and wounds.

one night, he watches you sleep and caresses your face. that's when he decides to write a letter for you.

it's the same letter that he mentions during his phone call with you as the heroes suddenly invade them in the mountain villa and in garaki's hospital. he quickly updates you with what's happening and also mentions that he has an important letter for you that you can find in the clothes drawer that you designated for him in your place.

after the call, you hurriedly looked for the letter which you find underneath all the clothes you bought for dabi before.

hi baby,

you're probably surprised to learn that i'm the love-letter kind of guy. me either. but i have no choice but to write this letter because i'm too much of a coward to say these things to you personally.

i love you. you know that. do not ever doubt that.

even for just a short time, i felt genuine happiness because of you. you're the only sunshine in my life's years-long darkness. but beneath our happy times, there was always this dread lingering in the back of my mind because i knew that ultimately, we wouldn't have a happy ending.

you deserve someone better. you deserve a good man who can give you the life you want, who can make you happy and take care of you, who won't make you worry all the time, a man who is not a villain.

this pains me immensely, and you may even get mad at me for this, but i need you to please forget me and move on. this is the best thing to do as we both know that you're not safe with me. the fact that you're reading this now means that we've reached the point where it's inevitable to part ways.

this is just wishful thinking and you would probably find it ridiculous, but perhaps there is another life out there in the universe—a life where i'm not a villain—where there's no dabi, only touya. and in that life, i will find you and i will love you again, so we can finally get that happy ending. i promise.

thank you very much, y/n, for accepting me, for taking care of me tirelessly, and for doing beyond what you were originally tasked to do. i love you.

P.S. honestly, i never thought i could ever love someone until i met you. and i still can't believe that i am loved by someone as great as you.

you're devastated as you cry for a long time, clutching the letter into your chest. then, the video he recorded suddenly interrupts the television broadcast. you already know everything he's going to say, but you still watch attentively.

later on, the heroes in charge of evacuating the civilians finally reach your street as you hear them from a distance.

you keep thinking about the last part of dabi's letter. you ask yourself why the two of you need another life to have a happy ending, when you can just try in this lifetime. you're not ready to give up on what you and dabi have.

you don't know what will happen now that chaos is ensuing, but you decide to go with the heroes because you still want to see and talk to dabi. you want to respond to his letter by talking to him face-to-face. and for that to happen, you still need to live.

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amirumono · 1 year

Text

Waiting for you to come back 🍒⏰

Genshin men x reader (fluff): Characters included // Kazuha, Heizou, Scaramouche, Xiao, Tighnari // Separated Summary: You’re off on a long commission, you’ll only be gone for about the whole 1/2 months per. Though it saddens them you can’t take them alongside (for questionable reasons) they’ll agree to keep both of your shared humble abode clean, tidy, and safe while waiting for your return to their lonely-empty open arms.

What they miss when your both together:

Kazuha —

As calm and accepted with this, he prays to the archons to stay safe on your journey hoping you’re not in any bad situations or get any injuries onwards.

He misses when he could come home, go to both of your shared bedroom and see you and your droopy state welcoming him back home than having to cuddle eachother to sleep on the nights.

Though it’s fine for a long distance relationship when you and him could send cute-mushy love letters back and fourth or seeing how the other is doing, just as long as he knows that your still alive and safe ♡.

He just longs for the months to be over so you can finally come back and wishes he could hold your hand in his taking a stroll in the areas you love to admire with him as he makes up new love poems only just for you.

\ \ \

Heizou —

He’ll just hop back to his normal routine just like when he didn’t had a partner, that’ll be fine right??

Making a dirty joke he was ready for someone to hit him in a shoulder playfully, though realizing after you weren’t here. He would cough it off and move on with his duties alone.

He misses when he had someone to ‘romantically’ tease with or give surprising hugs and kisses to.

All he can think of when dozing off is your giddy giggles he loves to hear, it was like a nice tune for him to just sleep off immediately till you yourself come back so he could hear more and lovingly hear it all day.

\ \ \

Scaramouche —

He’s used to people coming and going, though this was different practically because you were his lover giving him so much affection that he couldn’t handle being a flustered mess.

Now that your gone for a bit his surroundings became way to quiet that’s what he would prefer atleast, but now it irritates him without you twittering in his ears pestering him.

He liked the silence, but missed you dearly. He wished you were here blabbering your mouth so he could shut you up with his own lips engulfing himself in the moment.

Than leaving you stun forgetting what you were talking about.

\ \ \

Xiao —

He wonders if your looking up at the night sky too, it’s where the two of would just end the day always stargazing together and talking away with your feelings and he listens.

He wishes he could hear your sweet voice again and lay on your soft lap soothing him as your fingers comb his hair then kissing the purple gem on his forehead, praising him for all his achievements today.

Hoping he comes back and sees you making his favorite meal when the month is passed and your back with your pretty caring self that he adores.

/ / /

Tighnari —

Occupies himself with work, usually someone was there to stop him from overworking for a break every once in awhile with cups of teas than having silly gossips together.

Though he was infatuated with work he wishes you were here littering his neck with kisses distracting him and annoying him for attention.

He loved taking care of you or when there’s something you need help with but mostly scolding you for something foolish you’ve done which was 90% of the time.

Sometimes you were a hassle but sometimes you weren’t he loved you either way. There was less trouble making but he missed your crazy antics to handle it gave some ‘spice’ to his life.

#genshinimpact x reader #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #heizou x reader #heizou shikanoin x reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader #tighnari x reader

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bastigod · 10 months

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sunaosa // royalty au // 1k

Ever since Atsumu was officially declared crown prince of Inarizaki, Prince Osamu had enjoyed his quiet freedom at the royal family’s winter home in the countryside. There were no monarch parents, no stuffy politicians, no strict governesses bothering him, just him, his cat, and the house staff.

When he first moved to the winter home, the staff had expected him to be just as uptight as the rest of the royal family but they swiftly learned he couldn’t be fucking bothered with the formalities. They welcomed him as a friend and companion, relieved that he wasn’t another overly dependent bratty noble. It was common to find the prince plucking vegetables from the house gardens, riding bicycles with the young stablehands, and joining the kitchen staff around dinner time.

However, his peace was disturbed by the arrival of foreign dignitaries from a kingdom to the east. The queen was hosting a grand ball at the end of the month in the capital and had offered Miya Hall and its empty rooms as the perfect place for King Rinsuke, his two grandchildren, and their small army of relatives, ambassadors, and nobles to stay until then.

If Osamu had to say ‘It’s lovely to meet ya, enjoy yer stay at Miya Hall’ to one more visiting dignitary he was going to explode.

He finally managed to dodge a long drawn out story from the Baron of Blahblahblah by feigning a sudden illness and escaped up the staircase. While his staff knew he hated all this foolishness, even they couldn’t protect him from this. He needed to hide somewhere no one would think to look.

Osamu exhaled a soft sigh as he closed the library door behind him. This was more of his mother’s domain when she visited, with himself only flipping through the cooking books and not much more. He was about to let his shoulders relax when he heard a small yawn.

Who in the world would be in here while there were festivities below?

He grabbed the heaviest-looking book from a nearby shelf before creeping towards the sound. When Osamu rounded the corner, he discovered a young man sitting on the hardwood floor — his long legs awkwardly scrunched between the wall and a bookcase. He had a novel propped up against a knee and held a porcelain plate of pilfered pumpkin bread slices. Beside him was a small pack filled with more books and a pair of kicked off shiny leather loafers.

A random young man squeezed into Osamu’s library was an extremely uncommon occurrence, to say the least. However, what was the truly rare, incredible, and mind-blowing part of the entire thing was the fact that Crouton, the most ornery tabby in the entire kingdom, was curled up in the man’s lap and softly purring.

When Osamu set his heavy book down on a table, the young man looked up at him with an expectant expression — waiting for something, anything to come out of Osamu’s mouth. But he was speechless. Crouton hated everyone except Osamu and half the staff had the scars to prove it.

“What?” The young man grinned up at him, green eyes crinkling with mirth. “No ‘Guards! Guards! There’s a devilishly handsome biblioklept in my library!’? I’m terribly disappointed.”

“What… what the hell is a biblioklept?”

The young man turned a page in his book before responding, “Don’t spend much time in here, do you, Prince Osamu?”

“Asshole,” Osamu murmured under his breath. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are ya here?”

“I always have some half-hearted hope that if all the nobles downstairs don’t see me, they’ll forget I exist. Like collective short-term amnesia.” He exhaled a wistful sigh. “What a lovely fantasy that would be. No one to introduce me incorrectly.”

Something inside Osamu willed him to join the young man on the floor. Crouton’s ears flicked when she saw her favorite human, offering a tiny meow before closing her eyes again. He fiddled with his jacket before speaking, “I’m a bit tired of havin’ people introduce themselves to me — hence why I am also hidin’ in the library — but I s’pose I can make one more exception.”

A grin and an outstretched hand. “Prince Rintarou. First in line for the throne, noted societal degenerate.” Osamu shook his hand, though it seemed odd. He was always told that King Rinsuke had two granddaughters, but maybe he’d heard wrong. “And, erm, cat magnet?”

“Ya should consider yerself blessed by the cat gods,” Osamu said, a smile crossing his lips as he watched Rintarou pet between her ears. “She hates everyone.”

“Sweet little ratcatcher,” Rintarou murmured as she purred. “We’re like three peas in a pod, aren’t we? Just want to be left alone.”

He was right. A pair of princes who wanted nothing more than to escape the confines of their station. He was annoyed when he learned he’d have to play host to all of these foreign dignitaries, but maybe the silver lining was he’d have someone to commiserate with.

“Yer highness? Are ya in here?” Osamu’s eyes went wide as footsteps echoed through the hall outside the library door and the knob rattled. Osamu found himself grabbed by the embroidered collar of his jacket and yanked behind the cover of the bookcase by Rintarou. Crouton yowled and dashed away. “Oh, it was just that blasted cat.”

When the door closed once more, Osamu exhaled a relieved sigh and faced Rintarou. “That was close.”

“Yeah,” Rintarou mumbled, green eyes wide. A faint pink blush had bloomed on his cheeks. “So, erm, Prince Osamu.”

“Yes?” Osamu flicked a bit of cat hair off his jacket.

“You planning on getting off me, or am I gonna have to pet between your ears, too?” Rintarou gestured at their position, himself still folded up like a human pretzel with Osamu sitting atop his lap. Osamu froze — utterly mortified — before Rintarou started laughing. Bold, bright, and contagious.

Osamu couldn’t help but look forward to the trouble he and Rintarou would get into while the prince stayed with him.

This would be fun.

Little writing challenge from twitter. My task was to write a ficlet with the words crouton, biblioklept, pumpkin, amnesia, dependent, and bikes in it. (I cheated and used bicycles instead. Shh.)

#haikyuu #sunaosa #osasuna #hq #miya osamu #suna rintarou #fic #basti fic

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awlimagines · 21 days

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The bachelors finding out you're pregnant.

CODY/GORDY

You’re worried he’s unhappy when he takes some time to process your announcement silently. You find out how excited he is when Gordy approaches you less than an hour later with complete plans for a new extension to the house and plans for decorating a nursery. He wants your input and ideas to ensure your family's new addition has the absolute best. Gordy backs off some when you insist on the baby being in the same room, at least while they’re small. He has trouble not sharing the news with his mom, who excitedly spreads it amongst their family before you can say anything. Gordy is content to wait on your hand and foot the entire pregnancy. You and Takakura get used to him trailing after you around the farm quickly. Gordy relaxes some only after Dr. Hardy’s assurance and confirmation of safe activities.

DARYL

Daryl shocks you when he is immediately over the moon and excited. He settles down temporarily when you insist on a second test, worried about accuracy. Once confirmed, Daryl is at your side with a plethora of information he has researched. In his excitement, Daryl has overlooked the validity of some information, leaving you with a mix of accurate information and wives' tales. He already has an estimated due date that is accurate to Dr. Hardy’s by the time of your first appointment. Daryl shares his excitement by detailing the weekly changes in your body and your developing child. He has the list of safe medications committed to memory almost instantly and is always on hand with anything you need to make you more comfortable.

GUSTAFA

To say Gustafa was over the moon would be an understatement. He can stay quiet as long as you ask him to about the pregnancy, but you can see the struggle. The poor man is just beyond excited to be a father. He frustrates you when he laughs at your mood swings. Gustafa thinks they’re cute and enjoys seeing this new side of you. He never takes anything you say while hangry or sick to heart and provides nothing but reassurance when you worry. Gustafa begins speaking to the baby in your womb long before they could even be aware of it. He shares stories of what he hopes to do together and how much he loves you. Later in the pregnancy, Gustafa plays music often for you and the developing child. He hopes they’ll enjoy music but is thrilled about expanding your family and already unconditionally loving your child.

MARLIN/MATTHEW

Like Daryl, Marlin has researched everything he could about what to avoid during your pregnancy. However, unlike the scientist, he remains calm enough to filter through the wives' tales and superstitions. Marlin’s worry comes across as frustration if you refuse a meal due to the smells. The man is excellent at keeping track of your cravings and aversions. He also becomes increasingly focused on ensuring you only have the highest quality of food during your pregnancy. Marlin hovers and gets underfoot, trying to do more of your work on the farm during the pregnancy. You won’t tell him, but the smile he had when he first saw imaging of your child is something you’ll never forget. The giant grin was bigger than your wedding day, and you can't even be upset about it.

ROCK

Rock is so excited that the entire town knows before you can speak with Dr. Hardy. He nicknames the developing child Burt, short for Eggburt, and uses it consistently in every conversation. He’s grossed out if you suffer morning sickness and is a sympathetic vomiter. You quickly assure Rock it’s fine if he keeps away during morning sickness. He does his best to cook meals for you (he supervises Ruby’s cooking and tells you what’s great about it for your developing child). Rock has never been fond of hard labor, and while he doesn’t take on the more difficult tasks (leaving them to Takakura instead), he does help more around the farm while you’re pregnant.

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birrdies · 1 year

Text

deadweight

⚠️ limited life session 2 spoilers

It used to be easy— letting time slip by with a pickaxe in hand, hidden in the cave’s lowlight until his redstone-stained fingers ached and his thoughts weren’t so loud. Mind-numbing simplicity: hoist, dig, repeat. Such peace is hard to come by in these sorts of games; Etho’s been in plenty of them to know that fact well enough. But the caves are always a good place to breathe, to let the torchlight wash his thoughts away and keep his idle hands occupied.

That is, until this game. The ruthless kind. A clock ticks away on Etho’s wrist, wrapped around the skin like a shackle far heavier than his soulbond had been. This is a death sentence, a promise of what waits for him at the end of the line. No matter what he does. Every second counts.

There’s no space left for mindless hours wasting away in caves, hoarding supplies he might not survive long enough to even need. There’s no room for excess, for just-in-case. Instead, there’s the frantic scraping together of whatever he needs that minute, that day. Because nothing else is promised.

Seconds might not matter much now. But when his timer inevitably fades to red— when he watches the final minutes slip away from him like sand in the choke of an hourglass— they’ll matter then, won't they? When it comes to a choice: kill or die (both equally promised, only leaving him to wonder when). Etho knows the choice he will make.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s killed to stay alive.

So Etho saves seconds where he can. When he mines, he works efficiently. Systematically. He can nearly forget the seconds ticking away on his wrist when he counts the pieces of coal, measures the raw iron in his hands, and retraces cobble paths. The shortest routes for the most precious resources. Low risk, high reward. He knows the game; he can play it well.

By the time his bags are full and his pickaxe is nearly worn through, he hears it. A voice beneath his feet, buried deep in the stone. Quiet enough that Etho thinks he might have imagined it. He knows he should turn away from it. Gathering whatever else he can and returning to the surface to work on his farms takes priority— he’s got a team counting on him, after all— but he can’t. Not just yet. Not when he recognizes the voice. Etho glances at the skin of his inner wrist. The green numbers glare back at him. A silent taunt.

20:44:05

It seems like a long time, doesn’t it? But long enough to indulge himself? Etho’s never been particularly skilled in the way of discipline. He rolls his sleeve down to cover the timer. As if he can ignore the ticking.

The stone gives away under his pickaxe. He digs straight down (a risky choice but the fastest one), and finds himself within closer earshot. The mutterings continue, frantic and familiar in a way that infects Etho’s heart like homesickness. It smells of campfire and tastes like melted snow on his tongue. It feels like the end of the world, a valley cutting him in two like a false promise. Worn pickaxe clutched between weary hands, Etho digs further down.

“Talking to yourself, Bdubs?” he teases, hoping his voice carries through the several feet of stone.

A few more blocks down. “Wha— Hello?!”

Etho chuckles, despite himself. He forgets how easy, despite everything, small joys like this are to find in these games. All he needed was to know where to look for them. It shouldn’t have surprised him that he could find them hidden in Bdubs’ chaos.

His descent feels more desperate now. Almost like it’s been four years instead of four hours. Like Etho’s a wilted flower crookedly twisting its stem and leaves to find the barest glimpse of sunlight. He needs to close the gap, to hear Bdubs clearly without any obstructions.

“Are you having a chill moment just now? All alone?” Etho taunts. It’s a practiced dance, one it seems neither of them has forgotten the steps to. An old game. I’m not the boogeyman, I’m just convincing people I am. Etho tugs suspicion right, Bdubs feigns and attacks left.

Time hasn’t dulled the fun of this. Not nearly.

Only a single layer of stone separates them now. A playful spark lights Etho’s fingertips as he breaks through the final sheet of stone. He long thought it dead and buried, lost somewhere in the ashes of their snow castle. But Bdubs has a knack for not staying dead and an even larger penchant for resurrecting ghosts of pasts that Etho’d rather forget.

“Yes, yes I am,” Bdubs calls back. Etho doesn’t have to see him to know he’s smiling. Etho can hear it clear as day; maybe he’s just as glad to hear Etho’s voice.

A mess of pebbles and dust trickles from the ceiling as Etho breaks through the last of the stone. This vantage provides a fantastic view of the top of Bdubs’ head as he whips it back and forth, searching for the source of Etho’s voice in the small hole he somehow dug himself into. Etho grins behind the mask and leans into the gap.

“I need an easy boogeyman kill,” Etho says, hooking the edge of his pickaxe over the lip of the stone. “Come up here real quick!”

Bdubs flinches as the dust rains over his head, across his shoulders. He cranes his neck back, and for a fantastic second their eyes meet. A wicked grin spreads across Bdubs’ face, his perpetually bruised eye squinting. “You need an easy boogey kill?” He parrots back at him.

“It doesn’t get any easier than you,” Etho says. They both know it’s a lie. After all, Etho hadn’t been able to do it once. Every man Etho had killed under the guiding hand of the curse had been for Bdubs. Bartering for another life, another chance. More time.

A reluctant sentinel, Etho’s not sure if he could hurt Bdubs even if he wanted to. The clock ticks away around his wrist.

“Oh really?” Bdubs swipes his hair back, shaking out the rubble and dust. From a sheath at his hip, he pulls free a weapon of his own, a freshly-crafted diamond sword. And Bdubs, its wielder, eager to break it in. “And now I’ve armed myself!”

Another step of their dance. Etho pushes, Bdubs pushes back harder. Promises of exile only to draw a line down the middle. Weapons drawn with crossed fingers hidden behind unyielding backs. It’s easy— too easy— to step back into the beat of it. Like they never even stopped.

“You find anything yet?”

“Oh yes. Diamonds!” Bdubs brandishes his blade in an arc of pride. The torchlight shimmers in the fresh glint of the blade, the sharp edge impossibly bright.

“Y’know, I cleared out this whole ravine by myself,” Etho says. “I’m a hero.”

It’s a test. Another harsh push waiting for the equal and opposite pull on the other end of a soulmate link with no connection. He waits for Bdubs to gloat, to one-up him, to erupt in an outburst that would waste away the seconds. Because if he has to lose time, he thinks he’d like to lose it like this: at Bdubs’ mercy. It’s something familiar. Like coming home to a place they thought they said goodbye to permanently.

But Bdubs doesn’t give it to him. Part of Etho expected this too; maybe he didn’t deserve it. Instead, Bdubs offers only a tense silence as he replaces his sword with a pickaxe and starts digging himself free. He carves out a staircase; Etho steps back and lets him.

A step below, Bdubs pauses. His pickaxe hangs lazily at his side, but his grip is anything but casual, his knuckles white around the worn wood. Etho stands over him, waiting and measuring his disappointment and trying to divide it into parts that are easier to swallow.

Etho knows he’s made a mistake when Bdubs’ silence stretches far too long, when his face turns up and anger bleeds into his eyes, and the beating of the seconds slipping past returns, worse than the hammering of Etho’s heart.

It’s impossible to ignore everything. A new game doesn’t heal old wounds. It only scars them over. And neither of them is strong enough to admit they’re still aching.

“I heard what you guys said about me,” Bdubs finally says, and the admission is quiet. Too quiet, for a man like Bdubs. Even in the short space between them, Etho looking down on him from the top of a narrow cobblestone staircase, Bdubs sounds miles away.

It’s like standing on either side of that valley: Etho on top of the hill, Bdubs with his ankles in the water. Too much to say and too little time to say it.

“Oh, no.” His heart sinks. “... Did you?” Bdubs nods once. “I heard.”

“I… I feel bad,” Etho admits, fingers tapping an uncertain beat on his pickaxe. These are precious seconds and Etho’s wasting them this way: grasping at straws, so desperately afraid to say goodbye to something he already lost. There’s no sand left to slip through his fingers. Yet here he is, grappling.

Bdubs scoffs, using his pickaxe as leverage to climb the stairs. “Everybody— Everybody on the server is talking about it. Bdubs is the dead weight.”

He closes the gap one step at a time, slow but uncalculated. As if he’s staggering forward with no real place to go, only to seek out the first available target.

Etho turns away, digging the tip of his pick into a vein of coal to his left. Anything to turn his gaze from Bdubs, to numb the guilt starting to burn in his belly. Collect resources, divert attention. Bury it. It can’t hurt him that way. “Maybe so—” “Wow! Wow! I see how it is!” Bdubs exclaims, hurt dripping from his voice. It’s funny how Etho much prefers the venom that used to soak his words. Even when it was directed at him. Anything is better than this.

He steps away, abandoning the coal in a heap. His back strikes the stone wall behind him. There are far more dangerous things behind him than Bdubs. Creepers, skeletons, anything ready to sink its teeth into Etho’s unsuspecting back and cut his time even shorter. Bdubs can’t hurt him— he won’t. Not when their timers are green.

Etho tries not to think that’s the only reason keeping Bdubs’ sword from finding a home in his chest.

But that’s how they’ve always been, isn’t it? Push and pull. Just as Bdubs’ played his role, baring his teeth and ready to snap, so had Etho. Measuring his seconds as if they were precious currency. Measuring Bdubs’ worth in how much time he occupies, what he can provide, and his level of risk. Every move and every relationship a calculated move. Not just in this game either.

He wouldn’t give Bdubs a life— couldn’t. Not without stipulations. Kill another red name, he asked of him. Too large a price, one they both had paid for, and one Etho still hasn’t quite managed to pay off in full. He wants it to be about Bdubs. About this dance they’ve crafted, the distance they keep putting between themselves only for their own incapability of staying away to bring them back at each other’s feet again. Like sinners rushing to confessional booths.

He wishes it could be different. He wishes they could be different people, in a different place— that this is just a cave and two people occupying it without the ghosts of what-ifs clinging to their backs.

But they aren’t.

Even with Etho’s back to the empty cave behind them, Bdubs’ anger draining and his usual bravado filling him up in its place, Etho knows the outcome will be the same in the end. Because it isn’t about Bdubs. It’s about survival. Etho’s not so deluded to think he’ll have a change of heart in this game. Not when their time is so sparse. Precious.

And at the end of the day, Etho will always choose survival.

Bdubs is the first to leave the ravine. Etho, cloaked in its silent darkness, pulls up his sleeve again and glimpses at the time he has left.

20:40:32

Was Bdubs worth four minutes?

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ricky-tiki-tah · 3 months

Text

Glamrock Freddy Through The Ball Pit Part 3

Evan pushed a hand to his mouth in hopes of stifling his sobs when he heard his doorknob jiggle. The other hand held his flashlight, the flickering beam pointed at the the door the noise had come from. If he was lucky, and very, very quiet, maybe the nightmarish animatronic would go away.

He barely managed to stifle another sob and turn off his light in hopes of staying hidden, when the door creaked open. This was it, he was going to die. Evan hugged Fredbear to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see himself eaten.

“Ev?”

That was definitely not an animatronic. Evan’s eyes shot open and he was already pulling Michael towards his bed before his brain had the time to process that his brother was there.

“Hey, hey Evan, w-w-what’s wrong?” Mike asked, bumping onto the bed with the speed the younger boy pulled him over to it before he sat at the foot of the bed.

“Be quiet!” Evan’s voice was barely audible, but definitely terrified. “They’ll hear you!”

Mike blinked in confusion, getting nothing but question marks from Freddy. “Who’ll hear m-me?”

“Bonnie, and Chica!” Evan was sobbing almost silently now. He jumped up, flashed the light in the closet before closing the doors a moment, flashed the light again, then returned to the floor at the foot of the bed. “And Foxy.”

Mike was confused. Chica and Foxy were still only drawings, Father and Uncle Henry had only just gotten started on the blueprints a couple weeks before. “How?

Evan shrugged. “I dunno. But they’re even worse that your drawings. Like… like metal monsters!”

Seeing how terrified Evan was, Mike decided to investigate. Evan may be a scaredy cat, but if there’s one thing Mike knew, it was that Evan was not a liar. He stood up, against Freddy’s advice, and stepped over to the closed door.

“I do not think potentially fighting off a nightmarish animatronic is a very good idea.” Freddy said, his wary tone blaring through Mike’s head.

“Don’t worry, we’ll b-be fine. He’s just dreaming.” Mike mumbled back as quietly as possible. He opened the door a bit only to recoil in shock when the distinct sound of breathing echoed near his ear. He slammed the door shut in shock, his eyes going wide. “W-w-what was that-t?!”

“I told you! It’s the animatronics!” Evan was wiping his eyes, joining them at the door. He put his ear up against it before opening it and shining his light out a moment. “You can’t keep the door closed, they’ll come in if you close it for no reason.”

Now that sounded terrifying. Mike wondered how he made it to Evan’s bedroom at the rate he was watching the newly seven year old run around his room, shining his light and closing his door.

“I am not sensing any animatronics on the premises.” Freddy noted after a few minutes of silence.

“Wait, w-what?” Mike asked, frowning in confusion and completely forgetting to whisper.

Evan glanced back at him, holding the closet door closed. “What’s ‘what’ Mikey?” He hissed.

“No I-I wasn’t— Freddy what are y-you talking about?” Mike ignored the horrified squeak from Evan in favor of trying to figure out what Freddy meant.

“I am still able to… sense other animatronics.” Freddy explained. “And I am not sensing any in this house.”

“Then what a-a-are those things?!”

“I do not know…”

Now Evan was looking at them in confusion. “Mikey, who are you talking to?”

“Uh…”

“He is t-talking to me.” Freddy pushed forward, waving to Evan who only looked confused and slightly scared.

“Yourself?” He asked, shining the light at the bed to scare of the small animatronics there. “And why are you talking funny?”

“I am Freddy, n-not your brother Michael. I am not t-talking funny, this is my voice.” Freddy explain, and Mike facepalmed from the passenger seat.

“What?” Evan’s eyes widened in fear now. “What do you mean you’re Freddy?!”

“I am Freddy F-F-Fazbear, however, I am n-not the one you are thinking of. I am a-a different version.”

“And you’re in Mike’s head?! Where’s Mikey??”

“W-we are sharing it. He is still here and c-can hear everything.”

“Don’t worry E-Ev, I’m f-f-fine.” Mike pushed forward to reassure him.

Evan narrowed his eyes. “Your eyes changed.”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes, they were—“ he paused, flashing the light down one hall and closing the door before continuing. “They kinda glowed a little. Or… Freddy’s eyes glowed? And they were bluer than they usually are.”

Mike blinked in surprise. “Huh, cool.” They didn’t exactly have the time to get into that new detail now, footsteps were coming down both hallways.

“Close your door!” Evan ordered, closing the one he was closest to.

Mike did so, holding onto the handle for dear life, probably literally.

“They’re not going away!” Evan sobbed quietly, not able to wipe his tears away as he held onto both the door and his flashlight.

“We cannot stay in here, it is not safe.” Freddy pointed out. “There is something… strange in this room. I do not know what it could be, but we should not stay here.”

“Evan, listen.” Mike spoke up, leaning back against the door to keep it closed. “We c-c-can’t stay in here, you’ve g-got too many doors. W-We gotta hole up somewhere else. Maybe my room, it’s only got one d-d-door, and mine’s got a lock.” He was very much disliking the stutter he seemed to have developed overnight.

“But how will we get there? Bonnie’s that way!” Evan asked, flashing his light towards the closet in hopes of keeping Foxy at bay.

“We’ll w-wait until he leaves, then you g-grab your pillow and we m-m-make a break for it.” Mike laid out his plan.

Evan looked hesitant, but nodded after thinking it over. He stepped flashed his light down the hall, Chica was gone.

Quickly, Evan grabbed his pillow and his Fredbear plush before he joined Mike at the door.

Mike threw the door open once Bonnie’s breathing disappeared. He grabbed Evan’s arm and they ran for it, barely remembering not to slam his door when he closed and locked it so he didn’t wake his father or Lizzie. How they had slept through the sounds of Chica in the kitchen, he doesn’t know.

They stood in apprehensive silence, waiting for the sound of mechanical breathing, but it didn’t come.

Five minutes passed before Mike crossed to his closet, pulling down another blanket for Evan to use. “Here.”

Evan took it, finally smiling a little bit. “Thanks Mikey.”

Mike shrugged, climbing under his covers. “Yeah, whatever. J-just get in bed.”

Evan smiled brightly now, climbing under the covers and curling to the older. “Night Mikey. …Night Freddy.”

“Night.” Mike muttered.

“Goodnight, Superstar!” Freddy added.

The brothers were asleep within the minute.

#gfttbp au fic #fnaf #glammike au #glammike #glamrock freddy #michael afton #evan afton #fnaf 4

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heliads · 11 months

Note

Okay, this particular request has been on my mind for a hot minute and I feel like I have to send it to you before I forget again, SO:

May I please request Han Solo with a gender-neutral Reader?? Reader travels with him and Chewie on the Falcon as a smuggler and is really good at what they do, but is also pretty quiet and doesn’t really talk much, which Han’s kind of always playfully teasing them about. One night the three of them are at a bar on a small planet when they get in trouble and for some reason Reader… has to sing for the entire bar to get them out of it?? (I don’t know, maybe someone at the bar suggests getting one of them to put on a show so they can humiliate them or something.) But it turns out that the Reader, who’s always so quiet, actually has the voice of an angel, and the entire time they’re singing Han is looking at them with a mixture of shock and heart eyes. And then when they’re done and come back to Han and Chewie Han asks what the hell that was and the Reader just shrugs and is like, “You never asked if I could sing.” And Han Solo, Big Bad Outlaw, knows right then and there that he is totally screwed and in love.

I am so sorry if this request is stupid or if it makes no sense, I promise you don’t have to write it (😅). But if you do decide to, thank you so much, and I hope you’re doing well, gorgeous!! 💛💛💛

raven i LOVE YOUR REQUESTS SO MUCH

masterlist

Space is cold. Dark. When you’re stuck in a smuggler’s usual shuffle from planet to planet, offworld to onworld to the nothingness of space again, it’s easy to think that you’re the only one out there. You see a thousand stars, and they’re different each time you blink. You’ll never find your way back, if there was a place to return to. You find people you can tolerate and cling to them, hope they’ll stop the restless churning of your heart to start running and never slow down.

Space is lonely. That’s why you stopped doing the solo smuggling act and joined up with two other outlaws in the hopes that it would make you relax enough to sleep at night. It’s worked well for the most part, and then some twilights are like this one, when you’re perched up on the roof of your ship, staring at the sky above and wondering if anyone, anyone, is looking back at you.

Your shipmates can’t blame you for sneaking out. They’re messing around in the nearby township right now, probably landing themselves in debt or coming up with a brilliant plan to get themselves out of it. That sort of stuff isn’t really your scene; gambling must be taken in small doses, by your preference, so you elected to stay behind and watch the ship.

That wasn’t a problem in the beginning, but recently, one of your business partners has been starting to smart at the fact that you don’t want to go wreck some credits with him. Han Solo has been a lot of things at a lot of times, but you never took him for sentimental.

In all honesty, you’re not quite sure how to describe him, nor this recent change in his opinion. When you first met Han, he was sort of reluctant to take you on. It had been him and Chewbacca for the longest time, and although Han makes his bank by being versatile, change like that is hard to accept. You’re damn good at what you do, though, and soon enough he had to admit that having someone else watch his back couldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

It was easier after that, once the contracts were signed and you swore with all a smuggler’s honor that you would never steal his goods and money and leave him high and dry on some world neither of you recognized. Honor among thieves is a treacherous sword with which to guard your hopes, but you and Han operated around the same sort of moral codes, so you figured you could trust him pretty well.

You were friends after that. Sort of. Han’s Han, of course, he’d charm anyone out of anything. By contrast, you were perfectly content to hang back in the shadows, or hide up on the roof of the Millennium Falcon to watch the stars burst in the sky instead of heading to another gambling den.

That didn’t bother Han in the start. Half the time, he’d win a little too quickly and the rest of his card players would chase after him, guns blazing, so having someone available to fire up the ship and get him out of there was a nice ace in the hole.

Lately, though, he’s started wheedling you a little more to come with him. Says he gets lonely when he can only count on one other life form present in a room to not want him dead. You’re a quiet person, always have been, but that doesn’t stop Han from trying to convince you to come with him anyway. Doesn’t matter, though. He’ll tease you half to death but still give up eventually when he knows there’s no changing your mind.

He’s started coming back earlier and earlier, though. Sometimes he’ll stagger into the Falcon past dawn, eyes still bright with happily won credits, but you don’t think you’ve seen him out there later than midnight in quite some time.

Take right now, actually. He’s only been gone for a standard hour or two when you catch sight of him traipsing back to the ship. Chewie barks out a greeting up to you when he gets close enough, and Han raises a hand, cheeky like always.

To your surprise, though, Han climbs out of the top access port to join you within a few moments. He takes a seat on the roof of the ship next to you, hands propped up behind him so he can stare at the sky.

“Nice night,” he remarks casually.

You arch a brow. “I never took you for a stargazer. Are you going to write a poem or something pleasant about it, too?”

Han chuckles. “I’ll leave the romantics to you, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ve got a rhyme or two stuck in that introverted head of yours.”

“Mmm,” you pretend to agree, “they’re all about the nice, kind boys I’ve met on other planets. Totally unlike the card shark I’m stuck with right now.”

“Hey,” Han protests, “I’m more than a card shark.”

“Yeah, you’re a flyboy too. Head stuck in the clouds even more than me.” You reply.

A beat after you say them, you wonder if the words are a little too mean, crossing the line from banter to plain insults. When Han starts to laugh, though, you get this odd feeling that if it were anyone other than you saying them, he would be mad. Instead, he grins, does the thing where he closes his eyes and shakes his head derisively as if he couldn’t possibly believe that you were saying such a thing to him, nor that he would be so proud that you did.

“I always love your fire,” he grins, “Remind me why it’s always directed at me, though?”

“You’re the closest,” you tell him.

“I am,” he says affectionately.

You’re looking at the stars. He’s looking at you. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see him opening and closing his mouth in an attempt to rally his spirits to say something. It’s important, whatever this is, but instead–

“D’you want to go drinking with us tomorrow night? We found a good place. Great place. We probably won’t even get shot upon arrival.” Han sort of winces as he says it. This might not have been what he truly wanted to say, but he’s said it anyway.

“Sure.” The word is out before you can stop yourself. It’s not usually your scene, but you get the feeling that there’s more riding on this than just a round or two of watered down drinks.

“Really?” Han asks, surprised.

You swat him on the shoulder. “No need to seem so stunned. I do go out on occasion.”

“Oh, I know,” he says, “Just glad it’ll be now.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

A growl sounds from the inside of the ship; Chewie saying that he needs your help fixing up a part of the Falcon that’s been shoddy and sparking for some time now. You take it as a sign of both their trust that they’ll let you poke around on their beloved starship, even if you wish you hadn’t been wanted inside right now. Judging by the look on Han’s face, he’s thinking along the same lines.

“Well, I’d better go,” you say. It’s somewhat unnecessary to tell him this, given the fact that Han heard Chewie just as well as you did, but it fills the empty silence for at least a few more seconds.

Han nods, looks away, and you slip back inside the ship. You wait for the sound of his footsteps on the metal surface, but he stays out there a while longer, quiet. Unlike himself. You try to distract yourself with spark plugs and egregious amounts of rust in control panels, but the thoughts return soon enough, chasing themselves over and over in your head with thoughts of what could have and should have been if you had not left at that very moment.

You do your best to push the whole affair out of your head soon enough. Han’s your friend, sort of; your business partner, definitely. He makes his money off of convincing people of things and feelings that don’t exist. You can’t trust a single flirt or joke until he says something for sure.

Still, you know things. You know how he looks at you when he thinks you can’t see. You know that Han hasn’t stayed the night with a single girl in a long time. Stars, he doesn’t even dance with them unless he has to, and when someone buys him a drink, half the time he’ll just give it to you.

This is all just improper speculation, though, and it would do you good to ignore it all until something real happens. Until then, you keep up with your business contacts, you focus on what you’re supposed to be doing, and when Han reminds you that you agreed to go drinking with that night, you try not to feel like the whole world is falling to pieces.

It would be fun to get out of the ship, though, to have some fun in between risking your neck on endless jobs. You put on flashy clothes you haven’t worn in a while, you clean the engine grease out from under your fingernails, and when it takes Han several moments to pick up his jaw from the floor when he sees you before you leave, you count every one of the heartbeats that passes before he stammers out that you should get going soon.

He hasn’t been to this bar in a while, Han admits. He heard good things about it, but who really knows around these parts? You remind him that his criteria for ‘good things’ only include cold drinks and not getting killed on sight. He tells you that anything more than that is picky, and you laugh. It’s easy. It’s not something that you have to worry about, and you don’t have to double-check your every word to make sure you’re not embarrassing yourself. You’ve never had to think like that before, and it’s strange to do it now.

Han points out the club, reaches it first, holds the door open for you, which is strange. Everything feels new. You feel like a teenager who’s overgrown their welcome at home just enough to set off for brighter, more distant worlds, someone without the slightest clue how to operate on a planet that isn’t theirs. There should be a travel guide in your back pocket, a map in your hand, and memorized helpful phrases on your tongue, but instead all you have is the presence of mind to walk through the door and pretend that nothing is wrong.

You order a drink, which is something you can do without needing to watch Han out of the corner of your eye. You do it anyway. He is too present in this transformed world of yours. You are conscious of every word you say, how you thank the bartender for your drink, all the muscles necessary to down a swallow or two.

Han gets a drink too. The light is dim here; it makes it easier for patrons to lose track of time, their peace of mind, how many credits they’ve spent already. It makes it easier to forget just why you don’t come with Han every time. His knuckles are white around his drink like it’s a stuck knob on his bank of controls. He can straighten out, straighten up, if he just tightens his grip enough.

Before either of you can figure out where you’re going from here, the restless chatter of the bar turns to sharp, hard-edged syllables. There’s a man in front of the two of you, he’s come out of the back room to yell at the two of you. He’s the owner of this place, or so he claims, and he’s just about had it with smugglers coming in his town and drinking his product and wasting his money.

Turns out Han swindled him a few days ago, and now the owner wants payback. Han stands up slowly, raising his hands in mock surrender as if that gesture does anything but get his hands closer to his blasters, but the owner isn’t having any of it.

The bar owner scoffs, spits on the ground. “None of your tricks, Solo. You’ve given me too much trouble already. Years of it.”

Han frowns exaggeratedly. “Years of it? You’re crazy. This was just one bad time, that’s all.”

The owner shakes his head. “Wrong. You were here just last year, broke five of my glasses and convinced my best singer to resign.”

You glance over at Han with a surprised laugh you’re only barely able to hold back, and mouth five? at him. He purses his lips and whispers back that he’ll explain later. You can’t wait to hear that story.

It might have to come later, though, because the owner of this place is getting more annoyed by the minute. “Do you know how hard it was to replace her? Sales have been down ever since, and it’s all because of you. Empty stage tonight since she went and told everyone lies about my business practices.”

“I don’t think they were lies–” Han begins, but you cut him off before he can land you in even more hot water.

“You said you needed a singer?” You ask as innocently as you can, “I can sing tonight if we can go home without trouble afterwards.”

The owner and Han both turn to you with identical expressions of confusion.

“You will?” The bar owner asks.

“Sure,” you tell him, “but I want your word that we’ll leave without a single injury and no more credits paid than for our drinks tonight. Two songs and I’m done.”

“Three,” the guy argues.

“Three it is,” you say, and thankfully the owner backs off.

The second the tension ceases, Han turns to you with a bewildered expression on his face. “What is this about? Why are you telling him you’ll sing?”

You put a hand on his arm. “Relax, Han. I’m handling the situation, which you weren’t, by the way. Just roll with it and don’t start any more fights.”

“I don’t start fights,” Han retorts indignantly, “that guy totally came up to us first.”

You roll your eyes. “Same difference. This’ll be over in a heartbeat, don’t sweat it.”

Han looks like he wants to contest that, but you’re being directed up to the stage and then you’re up there with everyone looking at you and maybe, just maybe, Han was right about this being a mistake. You know one thing that Han doesn’t, though, and that’s that you’ve been singing for a while. It was a hobby of yours before smuggling became your main career, but you’ve been keeping up with your voice for a long time.

It’s just enough for you to get through the agreed upon three songs without much difficulty. They’re easy, especially since you convince the guy to get you some backing tracks so it’s not just your voice alone in all that stillness. By the end of your little show, you’re honestly enjoying yourself. It’s fun, and the dizzying round of applause that greets you when you’re finally done is certainly something to behold.

The bar owner sticks to his word, letting you and Han go without a fight. He even encourages you to come back any time you want, provided you repeat this sort of performance, that is. You just laugh and tell him that you’ll have to see about that.

You’re distracted, honestly. You’re not thinking about the bar or the show or anything, actually. All you can see is the expression on Han’s face, the way his eyes widened when you first started singing, how he had this awestruck look that stayed up throughout your whole performance and is still there now, even after you finished.

It’s like he’s never seen you before. Yes, that’s right. Like he thought he knew everything about you just to be totally blown out of the water. Even as the two of you walk back to the ship, Han keeps tripping over smooth ground because he can’t stop looking at you. Like he never wants to stop.

“What is it?” You ask at last, once the adrenaline rush of the show wears off and you start to question everything; if it had been good or not, if this is something that will change how the two of you speak forever.

“Nothing,” Han says quickly, “nothing. I just didn’t know you could sing. You never told me.”

You shrug as casually as you can. “You never asked.”

Han doesn’t seem to think this is an acceptable explanation. “Well, how much else is there about you that I don’t know just because I never asked?”

You smile. “A lot, actually.”

A pause. He looks back at you again, and then you see something click in his eyes, a realization of what you have not said and what he has not asked.

“Damn it,” he says all of a sudden.

You stare at him. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Han mutters through a flurry of avoided glances and dismissive gestures, “Nothing at all. Just. Get back to the ship, will you? We’ve got places to be. You’ll be there, right?”

“Sure I will,” you tell him, “Aren’t I always?”

“You are,” Han says, and then his face loses that wide-eyed, frenzied stare it had wielded only seconds before. He’s calm again, sure of himself, but not as arrogant as usual. Just– happy, almost. Content in a knowledge that had not been his to cherish before. “I know you are.”

requested by @starlit-epiphany, i hope you enjoy!

star wars tag list: @rogueanschel, @callsign-scully

#han solo #han solo imagines #han solo x reader #han solo oneshot #star wars #star wars imagines #star wars x reader #star wars oneshot #star wars han #star wars han imagines #star wars han x reader #star wars han oneshot

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vidalinav · 2 years

Text

This isn’t finished yet, I’ll probably add parts to it like I used to do when I couldn’t finish things. But basically I wrote a scene that is canon based but canon *IF* Cassian had never left after they basically and unknowingly solidified the mate bond and also if I didn’t hate every other character in this book series. So it’s the morning after solstice.

Nesta always dreads the morning afters and perhaps that's why she never invites Cassian to stay. There's no drunken allure, no fascination, no great lust that overrides her senses enough to forget that she is with another person... lying in her bed, less than perfect... something stale and sweaty, while she tries to forget the night.

But Nesta finds she doesn't particularly want to forget this night. She doesn't want to get out of bed either.

Cassian’s arms are wrapped around her and his wings are lazily lounging across her way, blocking out the sun and instead of clambering out of sheets, Nesta wishes to trace the fabric of his wings and see what he might do. Would he get mad? Would he settle in sweet sighs? Would he let her touch him, over and over again, just as he had last night?

Last night... Last night feels like a dream where they are surrounded by stars. Light winds around their hearts, knotting and twisting into something permanent and precious. Nesta has an inkling of what it is, but she won't say it out loud. Let him admit it first. If he dares, let him speak his mind and she'll tell him that she'd always hoped it was him. That it was always meant to be him, even when she contested so greatly to herself that he wasn’t meant to be hers.

They fit somehow. Her head rests in the crevice of his neck and she's tucked so neatly next to him. Their limbs are twisted together and surely they've become so entwined that no two people exist. Only one soul. One body. One star shooting across the night.

But now it's morning and just like the sun, Cassian blinks awake.

He smiles as he sees her and Nesta can't help the soft grin. It arises from her face without any great fanfare and it settles just like the warmth on her skin.

“Thank the Mother,” he says, his voice rough with sleep. "I thought you were a dream.”

"I didn't want to wake you," Nesta says lightly, as she trails a finger across the fine tendons still wading across her body. Cassian shivers and takes her hand quickly, placing a kiss to her knuckles.

He's quiet as his lips travel up her arm, only to stop just above her own. "They'll be searching for us soon," he confesses, a little smirk playing with his features. Nesta wrinkles her nose at that, and Cassian kisses there, his hands weaving through braid-less brown. "I doubt they'll let us miss breakfast."

"Bunch of busybodies who should stay out of our business," she starts.

But before Nesta can rant her lungs clear, Cassian pulls her closer. An impossible feat, she thinks, because there’s no way that they could be any more entwined. Not unless they burrowed their way to the center, where that splitting star sits.

“Is it so wrong that they know?”

“Know what?” Nesta breathes.

To be continued...

@arinbelle

#nessian #cassian #nesta archeron

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rainhaunted · 2 years

Text

The desert is cold at night.

Goosebumps prick Grian’s arms as he sits on the balcony railing, watching over the gently rolling dunes below. Haphazardly scattered torches light up the desert around him. The forest at their border stands quiet and dark.

He wishes the torches didn’t ruin his night vision so badly. The fortress on top of their sandstone mountain affords him an excellent view, but his eyes still can’t pierce the black maw of the forest beyond the sand.

Anyone could be waiting out there, plotting an ambush, and he wouldn’t be able to see them. At least there aren’t too many places to hide in the desert. The mountain, though, has rocks and crevices for cover, and tunnels could easily be dug underneath. A well-aimed TNT cannon would eliminate the need to traverse the distance – even now, someone could be out there, lining up the shot, waiting for the right moment to strike…

Grian inhales deeply, his wings tightening around him. Got to quit imagining things, he thinks irritably. He can’t waste energy on that, not when there are so many real issues to deal with.

Their defenses aren’t exactly sound. It’s too easy to get through the border (unless you’re trying to transport an uncooperative llama across, in which case it’s unfairly difficult), and the openness of the land surrounding them would make laying siege to their fortress rather simple. Grian has set up some protective measures – lots of arrow slits in the fortress walls, traps in a few strategic places on the mountain and in the desert below, and of course the cacti and lava surrounding their perimeter. The army of Dogwarts, though, would probably have the resources necessary to overcome those obstacles. Grian just hopes he’ll have enough time to get Scar to safety if it comes to that.

His lack of confidence in their security is why he’s out on the top balcony in the dead of night. If someone wanted to try a stealth attack, having the cover of darkness would be ideal. Grian’s not sure how likely it is that someone would actually attempt such an assault – logically it would be better to attack when Grian and Scar were separated, or at least outside of their own lands – but there’s always a chance. Someone could think they’re being clever. One kill would be worth a daring infiltration. Grian wouldn’t put it past anyone on the server.

So he’s determined to stay awake, keeping watch until the dawn breaks. He can’t afford to let Scar go unprotected during the darkest hours of the night. Too many people are out for Scar’s blood, and Grian…well, Grian simply refuses to let them have their prize.

A breeze gently rustles Grian’s feathers, and he shivers. The flames of the torches flicker as the wind brushes them. Overhead, the stars shimmer. It might be peaceful, he thinks. Calm. If only he could forget about the danger lurking around every corner, the looming dread of the days ahead, the fatigue weighing his body down.

Grian grits his teeth. He’s gone longer without sleep before. He can deal with whatever tomorrow brings. It’s worth it – for Scar, it’s worth it.

He tries not to think too hard about his feelings towards Scar. It was easier when he saw their partnership as just an alliance born out of debt, destined to break apart. Now, though, he can’t imagine a future without Scar by his side. It’s troubling, the fact that his mind won’t let that go. Staying together is impossible; it’s a death game, last man standing wins. They’ll end up separated in the end, no matter what. And yet, his every waking moment is consumed by Scar – scheming with him, laughing with him, trying to keep him alive. Without Scar, Grian will have nothing. How can he possibly prepare for that?

In the distance, a mob shrieks, startling Grian out of his reverie. So much for not thinking about Scar. He makes an annoyed sound, checking the daggers in his belt and making sure his bow and arrows are readily available. Satisfied, he sets his eyes on the forest, determined not to get distracted again.

The wind pulls more insistently at his wings, sending chills down his arms. The thin poncho he wears isn’t nearly enough protection against the cool air, but he doesn’t have anything warmer. Grian didn’t realize the desert of all places would be this bloody cold.

For a while, all is quiet; nothing moving besides far-off mobs and the wind.

Then suddenly, there’s a crash behind Grian, and he whirls around, jumping from his place on the railing and unsheathing the daggers strapped to his side in one fluid movement. He’s in a fighting stance instantly, ready to confront the bastard who thought it would be a good idea to try and break in – and is instead greeted with the sight of Scar, who’s currently tripping through the balcony door.

“What – “Grian rushes to catch him, dropping his daggers and grabbing Scar under his arms. “Scar, be careful!”

“Oh, gosh! Thanks, Grian – geez, your hands are so cold – “

“What on earth are you doing?” Grian says, helping steady Scar on his feet. “You gave me a heart attack!”

“Looking for you, obviously. You’ve been gone for ages.”

“I meant – what was all that racket? Why were you falling?”

“Well, I didn’t realize how dark it is in the house at night,” Scar replies matter-of-factly. “Oh, quick question for you: why do we leave so much stuff on the floor?”

Grian raises an eyebrow. “Because we’re both as unorganized as it’s possible to be. And you could light a torch, you know. There are plenty on the walls.”

“Oh, right, I forgot we put those there…”

Grian can’t hold back a bemused laugh. “You are a disaster,” he declares.

“Disastrously charming, maybe,” Scar responds, waggling his eyebrows. “No?”

“You do tend to cause disasters when you speak, so I guess that counts,” Grian deadpans.

Scar clutches his chest dramatically. “Grian, you wound me. I’ve been wounded.”

Grian scoffs, bending down to pick up his fallen daggers. He notices Scar’s eyes follow them back into their sheaths. “So, what are you doing out here, anyway?” Scar asks, his tone sounding deliberately casual. “I’ve been wondering where you went. I mean, when you didn’t go to bed, I thought you’d be doing something

smart, you know, maybe working on one of your big-brain plans, not attempting to become a human popsicle.”

Grian rolls his eyes. “I’m keeping watch, Scar. It’s dangerous out here.”

“Watch?” Scar responds, looking slightly perplexed. “It’s the middle of the night, G, and it’s freezing out. I don’t think anyone’s going to try to take us down right now.”

“You never know,” Grian says defensively. “Martyn’s crazy, dude, he’d try anything.”

Scar chuckles. “You know, Martyn’s probably doing the exact same thing you are right now. Sitting up at the top of their stupid Dogwarts walls, convinced we’re about to come out of nowhere, ready to murder his precious Red King.”

Grian considers this for a moment. “You’re…probably right about that.”

“I am right. Which means you should come inside to bed. Nothing out here to worry about.”

Grimacing, Grian shakes his head. “There are others out there besides Ren and Martyn, Scar,” he points out. “We’re not exactly popular around town.”

“Oh, come on, I’ve been giving out friendship passes like they’re candy!” Scar says, waving his hand dismissively. “Nobody would break those sacred bonds.” Grian gives him an unimpressed look, and Scar hastily adds, “Alright, maybe they would, but I can’t imagine they’d go all ninja on us and try to assassinate us in the dead of night.”

“The dead of night would be the perfect time for assassinations, though,” Grian responds. “Look, Scar, we just can’t be too careful. You’re on red. Anything goes wrong, and you’re gone for good.”

“I know that,” Scar replies, his voice going quiet. “I just don’t want you running yourself into the ground for me, any more than you already do.”

Grian looks away. “I’m fine, Scar. I can sleep later.”

“Will you, though?” Scar asks.

Grian opens his mouth to say yes, of course I will, but the words won’t come out. He can’t meet Scar’s eyes.

Scar sighs. “Just…come inside, okay? You don’t even have to sleep. We can make hot chocolate or something, turn on the jukebox. At least don’t stay out here in the cold.”

Grian bites his cheek, staring out over the railing. He is freezing. And hanging out with Scar is a much more tempting prospect than sitting on a hard railing all night with nothing but the wind for company. But he has a responsibility to protect Scar, and if he fails, he’ll never forgive himself.

“Grian,” Scar says softly.

His hand settles on Grian’s shoulder, a steady, familiar warmth. Grian reluctantly looks back up at him.

“We’re okay,” Scar says, in that same soft voice. “We’re safe. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”

Grian wants to laugh. You don’t know that, he wants to say. But Scar’s eyes are serious, and Grian thinks maybe…maybe this is Scar’s way of taking care of him.

He exhales, long and slow. Scar trusts him to keep them both safe. The least he can do is return the favor.

“Alright,” he says finally, and it’s worth it to see Scar smile.

Later, in their tiny living room, a lilting melody plays from the jukebox’s crackling speakers, and empty mugs lay abandoned on the floor. Grian sits tucked into Scar’s side, warm under a pile of blankets, breathing gone steady with sleep.

Scar smiles, resting his head atop Grian’s. “Mission accomplished,” he murmurs.

#third life smp #3rd life smp #trafficblr #desert duo #grian #goodtimeswithscar #can be interpreted as platonic or romantic :]#idk if i'm doing this right but i had to get this out of my brain #long post #teya's writing

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