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peggyao3 · 2 months ago

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Relic - Pt. 12 "Ouroboros"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧

A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: If Shai Hulud wants it, 18 is finally the final number of chapters for this fic 🥹

CW: Cannibalism, Implied Child Abuse, teenage Feyd's questionable sexual endeavors, mentions of self harm and suicidal thoughts

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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19 years ago

The large, cavernous walls of his uncle's office chamber tower over Feyd-Rautha who is barely six years old. A place for strategizing, for dining, for holding audiences, for killing those who prove to be incompetent and forfeit their lives. And currently— the place where the Baron lectures young Feyd-Rautha who possesses the sliest eyes that he has ever seen in the entire family line.

Vladimir Harkonnen has been droning about politics and spice trades for the past two hours and his darling nephew has surprised him with inquiries that are so very witty for a young boy.

A general knocks unannounced with what he deems important news, unknowing that the Baron is currently teaching his heir apparent. The man shivers from the boy's sharp, icy stare. He shivers from how small the orphan from Lankiveil looks next to the gluttonous Baron of House Harkonnen and he shivers knowing that all of the rumors are true.

Just when he involuntarily ponders on the physicality of it, a telling reflection in his gaze must have insulted the Baron. Vladimir's blade sinks into his belly through the gap between armor plates before he can even finish saluting.

Young Feyd-Rautha absorbs the manslaughter with nonchalance, neither smile nor frown tugging on his pouty lips. His mind is still moldable. He came here for knowledge and power, he came here, it was his choice, or that's what he has hammered into his brain with tiny fists. He killed his mother for it, to be strong like Glossu, to be smart like the imposing man who had introduced himself as his dear uncle.

Right now, Feyd is glad for the distraction. The fresh corpse means a fresh meal for everyone in the room and he had already understood his uncle's lesson an hour ago. Now he is bored to death. Two servants are called from the shadows to cut the body open, their skinny, naked frames only slightly obscured by milky plastic dresses. They extract the hot organs soaked in steaming, black blood. Feyd's stomach no longer revolts at the sight.

Impatiently, Vladimir grabs the organs out of the women's slender hands before they can prepare the meal on a platter. These slaves are new, pulled straight from the pits because the Baron knows his dear Feyd is so well entertained by their frightened stares and shaking shoulders. His nephew giggles, a bright, boyish sound and the Baron giggles too, fatty jowls wobbling.

"Have some of the liver, dear nephew. You did well today."

Hand-feet scuttle across the chamber floor, lured out of its basket by the irresistible scent of blood. It pitter-patters over to the open corpse, delicate black fingers curling around the open rib cage and— A massive boot stomps it in the belly. The Baron then was still able to walk, a colossus that could have trampled a young whale from Lankiveil.

"This is not for you!"

Squeaking and gurgling, the creature scrambles back with lurching gait and cowers in its basket, shaky knee-elbows drawn up against its hide. Feyd doesn't flinch when Glugo chirps in pain, but he does slip a piece of bloody liver into his little pocket before he begins to eat what his uncle offers him from the tip of his ichor-dripping blade.

Later that day, Piter de Vries arrives, also unannounced, but his skinny belly remains without a blade wedged in it. For a while, little Feyd is no longer the most important thing in the room (which annoys and relieves him), so he leaves the adult men to their conversation and trails to the back of the room where an austere basket with a thin, single blanket stands in the shadows. Feyd crouches down, his little suit stretching over knobbly knees.

Glug, glug, glug.

Nebulous eyes blink at him wide and the creature's nose-mouth quivers, scenting the liver on him. When he is sure neither of the men are watching, he reaches into his slippery pocket and offers the meat to the hungry creature. Impossibly gentle and uncomfortably human hand-feet curl around the warm liver.

Glug glug glug, as it pushes the meat into its mouth without chewing.

Feyd doesn't play with the creature. To play means to be weak and childish and if he got caught playing, he would be in serious trouble. Painful trouble. But he observes it often and shows no fear of its disfigured body. Torso and abdomen are two bulbous shapes out of which eight, slender arm-legs grow, lithe but frail looking. Its entire body is covered in black, glossy skin that feels almost like rubber to the touch.

Glug, glug, glug.

Feyd silently mimics the sound, puckering his lips. Glugo shuffles in its basket which is a little too small for the creature who can't fit all of its arm-legs comfortably inside. Perhaps the most curious part of it are the tiny arm-arms that grow on either side of its misshaped pug face. The tiny arms with tiny hands are not for walking, they're for grabbing and exploring. Glugo reaches its tiny arm-arms out for Feyd-Rautha.

The boy offers his index finger, small and white. Glugo's hand is about the same size as a child's. Its inky fingers delicately wrap around little Feyd's hand, turning it up and down, pulling the individual fingers apart.

"I don't have any more liver," Feyd whispers.

Suddenly, the Baron's voice drones. "Be a darling and summarize what we've just discussed, Feyd." Immediately, the boy stands like a whipcord, muscles tensed and hard as granite. He summarizes the conversation between his uncle and Piter to near perfection, which makes the mentat assassin smile a toothy rictus.

The Baron frowns. "I never dismissed you, yet you thought it appropriate to remove yourself."

"I heard everything, uncle! As I said, you had found a spy in the barracks who—"

"Piter, take him with you. Prove your creativity to me with the punishment."

"But I heard every word! Are you not impressed that I did while looking absent? Is that not a feat that will come in handy when I'm to attend banquets and gatherings?" Feyd's little hands are clenched into fists, clammy palms contained in a shell of rage.

"Always so eager for praise, aren't you, my dear nephew? I'll praise you more later. You'll be punished for feeding my pet, boy. Get out of my sight."

Hand-feet scuttle in a haste and the creature chortles and mewls in protest, one big foot-hand wrapping around Feyd's calf when he begins to move, then a second one clutches the back of his little suit jacket and a third one clamps over his shoulder. To the untrained eye, it might look as if it was trying to devour the young boy whose scent is laced with fury and fear.

Piter de Vries' blade slashes through Glugo's first hand-arm and the creature slumps to the ground with a hollow glug-glug-glug-glug! Its seven arm-legs and the stump writhe and curl into each other with pain.

"NO!" Feyd calls out, lunging at Piter who barely avoids the cunning dagger which has appeared in Feyd's hand.

The Baron laughs heartily, biting into a piece of haunch which has bloody grease rolling down his necks. "Punish him twice, my dear Piter, for not defending himself against my pet's attack. Meanwhile, I'll teach this abomination its place."

Feyd-Rautha's heart twists into despair and he rages against the mentat's spindly fingers that are screwed into his collar. He doesn't care for Piter's punishment, even though he loathes the man's guts. Little Feyd fears for Glugo and he would rather switch places with it and endure his uncle's rancor. It is so innocent, it only tried to help, to protect.

Tremor's shake the spider's aching limbs when it squirms in its basket, pearly eyes locked on Feyd-Rautha as the door rolls shut.

"Little half-blood demon," Piter cusses out the thrashing child whose blade fruitlessly cuts the air. It secretly hurts the mentat that he is not to punish the boy for trying to stab him. The Baron is ever so kind with his affection towards his shrewd advisor. "What shall I do with you now, hmm? I think I should scalp you, lest you grow any of these blonde, pretty curls back."

A few weeks later, Feyd-Rautha finds the disfigured Tleilaxu creature alone in the Baron's office. He was tasked to retrieve papers, but his plan is a different one. With quiet, childish resolve, he marches up to Glugo in its basket, milky eyes blinking open, its third eyelids following a little more slowly. The creature is shaking, weak. Its legs unfold with a crack of bones.

Glug glug glug?

"Ssshhh," Feyd appeases. "Do you know what this is, Glugo?" He asks, clutching his dagger in his little hand.

An affirmative glug, glug, glug.

"I brought you liver." Glugo seems excited when it awkwardly raises itself on the five arm-legs that are left and totters over to him, obviously in pain still, or in pain again. It can barely hold its own weight.

Feyd doesn't conceal his intentions, blade ready in his small hand while he offers the liver.

Instead of taking the treat, Glugo's tiny face-hands gingerly curl around Feyd's raised fingers and one foot-hand settles trustfully on the crouching boy's knee. Glug, glug, glug, it sings. Glassy, white eyes blink slowly and the creature gently slurps the piece of meat out of Feyd's palm.

As soon as it has swallowed, Feyd's blade cuts through Glugo's neck and the creature breaks down with a grateful sigh, the lifeless hand-foot sliding off little Feyd's knee.

Feyd-Rautha doesn't cry, but he holds these gentle hands until they grow cold and he stares at the far wall, black within black of the furniture blending together while the stone in his gut grows heavy and bitter.

Glugo is free now, but he is so entirely alone.

Not even a month later, something stirs in a whirl of brilliant green bubbles and the awakened consciousness fills out a misshapen body. It presses its eight limbs against the glass confinement and the tubes that are fed into its flesh.

At first, it floats in a gentle dream of billowing waves, weightless, pain free.

But when the incubator slides open with a squall of amniotic fluid and the newly birthed creature falls on its knees, the physicality of its bodies defies all instincts. Its knees bend like elbows, its hands are feet and its muscles contort themselves with an aching groan, refusing to let it stand on two legs.

Too many feet, too many nerves, too much phantom pain and it is so cold.

It doesn't even take a minute for the being to remember the little one's gentle hands and his kind blade and it weeps because it is alive and Feyd-Rautha isn't there.

The Tleilaxu know that a Ghola is capable of recovering the memories of its flesh. It is considered a science and an art form to find the matching triggers and play them just right, like God plucking the strings of an cellular instrument.

They don't know that the Baron's spider is their first creation to remember upon rebirth, traumatized to the core by being alive.

"I can help you," Feyd- Rautha sighs, his knees bent into a graceful crouch.

The little one has become taller, his voice raspy and uneven, but Glugo loves him no less.

Feyd brandishes his new blade of polished, white steel, offering it to the shivering heap of oily-black limbs in a blood-soaked basket.

If only someone did the same for him. He can throw himself against his swordmaster all he wants, or the guards, or the drugged slave warriors, but none of it is ever enough to deliver him from his pain.

Today, he had seen a glimpse of salvation for a while, when he snuck into the pleasure wing for the first time and picked out a female slave much older than himself. He had made her lie down on her front and then he had cut himself with his own birthday blade while fisting a hand around his cock.

The woman had yowled and whimpered when he sank into the soft kind of sheathe he actually desired for the first time and he had enjoyed it, loved the raw power over another human being, how he could tear all kinds of sounds from her and how his snapping, flexing muscles turned into weapons. He could enjoy this rather than just endure it.

It's a pity that his uncle had made him kill the slave when the news reached him. Feyd had barely just pulled out and stuffed his sullied cock back into his pants when the Baron's guards came and collected him and it was then that he remembered he was no grown man, only a meager thirteen.

The Baron had punished him to the point of apathy, muscles turned into vessels of pain, but nothing could ever quench the spark that had ignited his growing, aging body.

Glugo shouldn't have tried to help him. It never learns.

Glug glug glug.

"I will help you," Feyd repeats with quiet, bitter resolve and reaches out his unarmed hand. "Come here." Glugo takes it gently, its palm now much smaller against his, oily black against frosted white. "I'll make him pay for this one day," Feyd swears solemnly and tightens his grip a fraction around the creature's slender finger-toes.

Shame drips hotly into his guts because if he really wanted to help, he would burn Glugo's corpse to ashes so it can never be hauled back to the Bene Tleilax and reanimated, retraumatized. Feyd is so selfish for betraying those innocent eyes like that, the frail body grafted out of parts that incessantly tries to take every hit for him.

The young na-Baron squeezes Glugo's fragile hand tightly and when he brings his blade to its neck to rightfully relieve it from its unnatural burden, half of him already dreams of having it back. Someone who doesn't want the worst for him. Someone who doesn't twist his belly with nausea upon sight.

Friend.

The word that he feels and grieves when its thumb strokes him softly and black blood weeps down his palm like hot tears is friend.

If he can't even protect Glugo from his uncle, how will he ever be able to protect his woman?!

Is what Feyd-Rautha thinks when he delivers the mercy kill with a seasoned grip on the blade, cradling the graftling's slick, cold head against his belly. The small face-hands that had once been able to grasp little Feyd's entire hand can now encompass only one finger.

The peace he delivers is fiercer this time, his full lips screwed into a tight line and his hands white knuckled with angry resolve. He will tell his woman about this when he sees her among the stars tonight. He might not find the right words, but he will tell her how he saved his friend from pain today and she will know that he is a good human despite his uncle's best efforts.

That was the twenty-fifth Glugo.

The twenty-sixth had slept in her bed last night.

His naive nephew still believes he has the Tleilaxu grafling rebuilt and reborn because he, Vladimir Harkonnen, takes pleasure in kicking and maiming it. The boy is so dense when he is sentimental. His repressed affection for the obscene little experiment is hard to watch, but Vladimir endures it.

Death and rebirth are a necessary cycle to keep the mill running.

Death — Punishment. Rebirth — A begrudging concession because Vladimir cannot stand it when the boy looks and acts like a puppet with no fire behind his anger. Like every man, Feyd-Rautha needs something to fight for, so he shall have his Tleilaxu toy back after a while.

But as he grew broader and taller, his hands harder and his frame more wiry, the boy's needs grew hard and violent too and he became ever so difficult to please. He needed a different plaything than just a pathetic little friend.

So, the Baron had three beautifully obscene concubines designed and birthed for his nephew's desires. Sterile creatures who wouldn't complain if he maimed them, who would rake their talons through his ivory flesh to satiate his pathetic need for pain if he asked them.

But the boy grew older still and his desires matured, like someone or something had spun their starry web around him and spirited away the coats of armor he had mantled himself with.

And after that, no number of concubines could rouse him during those past two years.

The Baron has been missing the witty, little boy who had raged against the late Piter de Vries in his office chamber, who had snuck into the pleasure wing in an act of reckless adolescent rebellion.

So, what other choice did Vladimir have than to give his nephew the most dangerous gift yet? The "Relic", a Bene Gesserit witch now nests in his palace for his dear Feyd-Rautha's sake.

The mill must keep running. The Ouroboros must keep feeding its own tail into its maws.

Will she be another kind of Ouroboros, or the blade that cleaves the serpent in half?

Between the conception And the creation Between the emotion And the response Falls the Shadow Life is very long Between the desire And the spasm Between the potency And the existence Between the essence And the descent Falls the Shadow For Thine is the Kingdom For Thine is Life is For Thine is the This is the way the world ends

- The Hollow Men by T.S. Eliot

A/N: I literally cried while proofreading this chapter 😔 If anything happens to Glugo, I'll kms 26 times 😩

FEYD TAG LIST:

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted,@sunny747

@ughdontbeboring

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #dune part 2 #dune fanfiction #feyd #feyd rautha x reader #austin butler #feyd x oc #feyd rautha x oc #peggysuave fanfics #peggysuave;relic #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha fanfiction #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd imagine #feyd rautha imagine #dune part two

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katehuntington · 4 years ago

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Title: Ride With Me (part 24) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±9400 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part 24: John’s presence at the horse show flips Dean’s world upside down, sending him a tailspin that could have serious consequences. Will Y/N and his friends be able to get through to him? Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak, slowburn. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: How Do You Get ‘Em Back - David Ramirez. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @atc74, and @winchest09 for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand. Guys, this is going to be a heavy one. 9.3K of angst. If you are invested in this story, I suggest you’ll have the tissues ready before you start reading. Godspeed.

Ride With Me Masterlist

“Hello, son.”

Only two words, but it’s more than Dean has heard his father say in a long while. The simple greeting lingers between them, like smog polluting the air, stealing his breath. A force of habit the cowboy assumed was long forgotten has him square his shoulders. After all, if there’s anything John taught him it's that men can’t be weak.

What does he call him? Dad? Sir? The cowboy isn’t even sure and so he decides to keep his mouth closed. Instead, he measures the man before him. He is but a ghost of the parent Dean remembers - or at least idolized for so long. His boots are dusty and worn, the leather tearing at the creases. His clothes are dirty, stains on the white t-shirt he’s wearing under a camel jacket. He grew a beard, the tough hairs grey now. A black cowboy hat hides most of his slick hair, but they don’t conceal the dark circles under his father’s eyes, nor the tale of pain and sorrow that are still apparent. Nothing has changed, really. He just got older.

Dean can feel his knees weaken as his breaths come out shaky, but he is able to stand his ground. He sets his jaw, gritting away the frustration that continues to build, his fists clenched, nails digging into his palm. But it’s more than just aggravation that courses through him; it’s joined with an overwhelming sense of panic and fear. He wants to run, far away from confrontations and the dull blade that is tearing open old wounds. What he would give to go back in time, just an hour or so, to prevent this moment. What he would give to be able to live the life he naively pictured, with his family, with Y/N.

Meanwhile, John watches him, eyes glossed over and wearing a small smile. “It’s good to see you.” Still, Dean can’t speak. He just stares at his father. Even the gentle words falling from John’s chapped lips don’t lift the tension. Where Dean was thankful that the stables were empty just a few minutes ago, he now wishes it was swarming with people, because being cut out from the public eye is not a position the cowboy wants his girlfriend to be in. When John steps closer hesitatingly, Dean moves in front of her, one hand back to make sure she stays behind him. It’s instinct, a reaction that is fed by years of doing the same for Sammy. He did everything possible to protect his brother then, and now he has to do the same for her. Dean has to get her out of here. Now.

The cowboy turns his head slightly, addressing Y/N without letting his old man out of his sight. “You should get Joplin warmed up. I’ll be right there.” “Dean? Are you s--” “Go,” he insists, wincing at the strict tone of his own voice.

John has halted and watches the exchange, his gaze following the cowgirl who moves to the box on her right and takes off the halter of a black horse inside the stable. Without a word but with concern and confusion evident in her eyes - which flick to his before she averts them quickly - she takes the Quarter by the reins and guides the mare out of the stable. When she’s out of earshot, Dean’s father returns his focus to his son. “That your girlfriend?” he wonders. “No,” the wrangler claims, wanting to keep her out of this at all costs. John doesn’t have to know about his relationships with her or with his friends. It will make them vulnerable to his influence. “She’s just an intern,” he adds.

Believing the statement to be true, he dips his chin, nodding slightly, and Dean is able to exhale. At least he got Y/N out of harm’s way, now he just needs to somehow prepare himself to take the fire. It’s been a long time coming, but it’s time to face the faults of the past. He allowed the family to fall apart on that dreadful night when the bond between the Winchesters was shattered to pieces. Dean destroyed it all.

Carefully, his old man moves closer once more, and involuntarily the young cowboy steps back. He doesn’t want to. He intends to stand tall and hold position, but trepidation has him back up before he can stop himself. Apparently aware of the effect he has on Dean, John ceases his attempt to close the unbreachable gap between father and son.

Leaving a safe distance between them, he speaks again. “You’ve grown up to be quite the man, Dean. Your aunt and uncle must have taken good care of you.” More than you’ve ever done, Dean thinks to himself, but he doesn’t say it out loud, too apprehensive for the reaction it might trigger. “They have.” “Well, I’m glad,” John smiles at the ground. “I’m glad you landed on your feet. Do you know if Sammy did too?”

Dean’s eyes fill to the brim before he can blink. He doesn’t know. The big brother who was supposed to look out for him, who was supposed to give everything to provide his younger sibling the safety and care that he deserved, doesn’t know. The question is a punch in the gut, a verification of the fact that he has failed Sam like he has failed so many others. “I don’t,” he admits, doing everything in his power to keep his voice steady. “I haven’t seen him since.”

John sighs, sniffles slightly and glances up, as if he’s mad for a prayer that has been left unanswered. The news does a number on the old guy, and suddenly Dean feels sorry for the man standing before him. His father was already lost when their mother died, and it only got worse when Sam disappeared. The agony it triggered has never left him, just like it never left his son. That loss will always remain, a piece of their heart cut away violently, leaving a hole that bleeds to this day. They both had to settle for a life without Mary and the youngest Winchester in it. As much as Dean wants to hate his father, he simply can’t. He wouldn’t want to wish that kind of torture upon anyone, let alone his dad. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes he has made.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hoped that maybe…” John pauses, shaking his head slightly. “I hoped you boys at least found your way back to each other.”

Dean swallows with difficulty, his bottom lashes barely clinging to the tears that threaten to roll down his face, but he manages to keep it together. He wishes the same, because life without his sibling feels incomplete. God, he misses Sam. And all that guilt, the sorrow, and the uncertainty of his well-being come rushing back to him in a magnitude that he can’t cope with.

John watches his son again, a grown man now, yet still his boy. “I was wondering if maybe we could sit down someday. Have a drink or something, y’know? Try and put this all behind us?”

Astonished, Dean stares at him. A part of him wants to mend this broken relationship, but John must be aware that rekindling the father-son bond will never undo all the trauma their family endured. There’s no going back to how things were, there is no returning to the time the Winchesters were happy. Mom died, and her death set them on a course of total ruination. And yet, Dean can’t answer. He can’t tell his father ‘no’.

“John Winchester!” Hasty footsteps echo between the stable walls, and when the conflicted cowboy glances past his father, he notices Bobby, moving closer with determined strides. A shuddering sigh of relief escapes Dean, and he’s glad the man opposite of him turns around to face his former brother-in-law so that he doesn’t witness the sign of weakness. With his uncle here, he instantly feels safer, knowing that even if this conversation develops into an argument, he has back-up now.

The elder man holds a fury in his eyes that is visible even in the shadows of the worn ball cap he always wears. “You better walk away,” he warns. “We were just talkin’,” John assures, calmly. “I don’t care if you are holding a family reunion,” Bobby sneers. “If you don’t leave right now, I will get my gun and blast your sorry ass so full of buckshot that you will never sit in a saddle again without scratching the leather.”

Dean’s gaze bounces between his father and his uncle, weary of the clash that is about to kick off, as the two older men keep their eyes locked on each other, tension rising by the second. But then, against his expectations, John gives in to Bobby’s request and steps aside. He glances back at his son one last time, giving him a sad smile, before he breaks away and strolls off, shoulders slumped and defeat obvious.

Collecting himself by taking a breath and blowing it out as slowly as he can, the younger cowboy makes eye contact with his uncle, who approaches him until he’s in arm’s reach. He puts his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, gently encouraging the troubled young man to look at him, hoping the touch will ground his nephew. “You alright?” Bobby asks, the lines in his forehead deepening as he frowns. Dean swallows down the lump in his throat and nods, his lips pressed together in a firm line. He can’t speak and has to break away from his uncle’s observant gaze. Bobby’s grip loosens; he’s aware that Dean isn’t ready to expose his true feelings about this unfortunate run-in. “I’m gonna make sure he leaves the premises,” he assures. With those words, the man - who once again has provided him safety - turns away to follow John, committed to matching action with his words if the guy doesn’t take his threat seriously.

Finally alone, the unsettled cowboy tries to inhale again, but his diaphragm seems to have risen to chest height. He can feel anxiety like he has never experienced before in his adult life get a grip on him, and whatever he tries, he can’t stop it. Afraid that his legs might give way, he takes a step to the side and holds on to one of the stable bars, but he still can’t breathe. Unable to hold the frontline in the battle he’s fighting with the overwhelming sense of distress, the tears break through his defense, spilling down his cheeks. Suddenly, he feels sick. He needs to get out, he needs fresh air.

Feeling the bile creeping up from deep inside him as he stumbles outside, he quickly turns the corner behind the tent before he heaves this morning’s partly digested breakfast into the grass. He throws up everything he has been holding, hoping the anguish will leave his body as well, but it doesn’t. When his stomach is empty, he is still left with the same misery. “Fuck,” he chokes out, steadying himself against the steel corner pillar of the stable. He wipes at his runny nose and his tears, sniffling. Get a hold of yourself, Dean, he lectures, you need to keep it together now. He straightens his back, looking down at the mess he made, closing his eyes for a second as he pulls in a careful breath.

“Dean?” Recognizing his friend’s voice, the cowboy turns around. Benny stands behind him, worry in his clear blue eyes. Manning up and finding his footing again, Dean walks up to meet him. The Southerner hands him a bottle of water, and even though the receiver is thankful for having something to rinse his mouth with, he wishes it to be something a whole lot stronger.

Taking a swig, he lets it wash away the sour taste before he spits it onto the ground. After another attempt he realizes that it’s no use and takes a careful sip this time, swallowing it down to put out the fire inside his chest. He glances at Benny, giving him a nod. “I - I’m good,” he says, not just trying to convince his companion. “I’m good.”

Knowing him well, his best friend doesn’t contradict him, even though it’s clear as day the statement is far from the truth. Dean’s eyes are bloodshot, his hand trembling when he moves the bottle to his mouth. “You might wanna get to the warm-up,” Benny reminds him, handing him the headset. The wrangler grimaces. “Shit, yeah. What time is it?” “Two-thirty. Her starting time is in twenty-five minutes,” the Southerner says. “I gotta get goin’,” Dean realizes after cursing again, moving past him to make his way to the arena. He holds up the water bottle as he jogs away. “Thanks.”

Hoping his friend will understand that he’s thanking him for a lot more than just the drink, he hastens away. Right now, he has someone else who needs his support. Y/N has left the stables well over fifteen minutes ago, so he hopes she’s not nervous because of his late arrival. When he finally reaches the fence, he spots her amongst the other riders, warming up Joplin. He can tell she’s focused, or is she upset with him for not being on time? Finding it hard to read her from a distance, he sums it up to a mixture of both. Without disturbing the other competitors, he bends down to duck under the barrier, approaching her and her horse. But when she ignores him completely and continues to work the Quarter on a small circle, he hesitates.

“Y/N?” he calls out, not sure if she saw him from inside her bubble. “What?” she snaps. Taken aback by her reaction, he watches how she keeps circling, slowing down to a walk, but still not stopping to take the headset or even grant him a look. “C’mon, let me help you,” he ushers, holding up the device for her. But when she looks him in the eye, the coldness they behold frightens him. “Why do you even care?” she wonders. “I’m ‘just an intern’ anyway.”

Like she just slapped him across the face, Dean stares at the cowgirl, the daggers she’s shooting at him with her powerful gaze stabbing him right in the heart. No no no, he thinks to himself as he closes his eyes. She wasn’t supposed to hear him say that to his father. He labeled her as an intern only to make sure John wouldn’t be able to get to Dean through his girlfriend. Of course he didn’t mean a word of it! He has to make her understand. “Yankee, I’m sorry. I--” “Forget it, Dean. I can handle myself,” she snarls. “Leave me alone.”

With that, she moves away from her boyfriend, riding Joplin to the other side of the warm-up ring, as far from him as possible. Regretful, her trainer saunters back towards the fence, making his way out of the ring. When he straightens himself, he is met by Jo, who has her arms crossed in front of her chest as she narrows her eyes at her cousin. It’s clear as day that she’s about to rip him a new one as well. “What did you do?” she demands to know, sternly.

Dean looks at her, opening his mouth to answer, but unable to even utter a word. I fucked up, that’s what I did, he realizes. Like he has fucked up everything else that was ever good in his life. He doesn’t reply, though, and instead shakes his head, admitting his loss. “Here.” Dean hands her the small device with a microphone attached to it, his fingers still trembling. “Help her if she needs assistance, alright?” Perplexed, she watches him walk off. She at least expected a counter with a claim that he didn’t do anything wrong. “You’re not gonna even watch her ride?” she asks before he’s too far gone. “I’ll watch from the bleachers. I don’t wanna distract her,” he returns, sadly looking into her eyes before he carries on.

Observing her cousin, an uneasy feeling settles in her stomach. The guilt is oozing from him in great amounts as he disappears in the crowd, his head hanging, the usual upbeat attitude nowhere to be found. What has gotten into him? Something must have happened, something bad. She can’t recall the last time she has seen him this troubled, not since… Jo’s eyes grow a little larger, her brows that were knitted together a moment ago now rising. Suddenly it dawns on her; she hasn’t seen him so thrown into disarray since he arrived at the ranch at fourteen years of age. She might have been only eight at the time, but those memories lingered. The sight of a kid so scared, so depressed, and so broken left an impression. Even as a little girl she knew he had been through hell, and by the looks of her cousin now, it seems like those dark days are catching up with him.

Jo wants to go after the poor guy, but she knows she can’t abandon her best friend. When the steward calls out Y/N’s name, announcing she’s up next, she focuses on the rider again. Right now she is her main priority, because whatever happened between the intern and the wrangler, Jo knows she’s Dean’s priority too.

“Ready?” she checks while quickly drying Joplin with a towel before they head towards the gate. “Yeah, I am,” Y/N assures, pushing Dean from her thoughts. “Remember that it’s fine to pick your first cow from the side of the herd, okay? Don’t set the bar too high. It’s your first time,” the blonde cowgirl offers. “I know,” she assures, even though she’s not planning on playing it safe.

The frustration has morphed into determination, a strong will to prove that she can manage just fine and that Bobby has every reason to dote on her. She much rather feels aggravated than insecure, so she allows the anger to flood the worry, shutting out her usual insecurity. She’s not going to let anyone down, especially not herself.

Concentrated, she goes to the gate, eye for the prize. Joplin already has her ears perked towards the cattle, knowing it’s game time. The clock starts to tick, and with confidence, she guides Joplin through the group of heifers, picking one dead in the middle to single out.

She doesn’t know Dean is watching from the sidelines, and intense sadness filling his soul. She doesn’t know how proud he is when she makes two amazing cuts and she scores 73 points, outclassing him. She doesn’t know that he’s very much aware that his girl doesn’t need him anymore.

Swift strokes brush the dirt out of Joplin’s dark coat. Dust particles dance in the air, illuminated by the orange rays of the setting sun that fall through the window of the stable. The mare allows the pampering, on hindleg resting on its toe, her head hanging low. Big, brown eyes are half closed, falling shut every once in a while. Sleep almost taking the normally feisty horse, the grooming having a relaxing effect on her. It’s almost as if she realizes she’s about to go on a new adventure, and she’s taking this moment to recharge after her run.

Jody has matched Joplin with a great family. A sixteen-year-old girl will be riding her. The teenager and her parents came to meet her new horse right after the great performance, absolutely beaming, knowing this wonderful animal was now theirs. In about fifteen minutes, Joplin’s new owners will be here to take her to their farm in Alamo, New Mexico. The family promised to give the Quarter a forever home, and they showed Y/N pictures of the beautiful barn where the little dark horse is going to live. She’s going to a good place, but the farewell remains bittersweet.

Once the Joplin is thoroughly cleaned, her rider takes her by the halter, raking her fingers through her mane. Y/N has never been good at saying goodbye, but it’s time now. “Be good, okay?” she whispers, letting her hands gently run down the horse’s neck. “And don’t pin your ears back too much. People are gonna think you’re mean, but I know you’re a softy.”

Joplin breathes out a sigh through her nose as if answering the person who has been her companion for the past month. It’s peculiar how fast a bond between human and animal can form. There has been a connection between them since the first time Y/N saddled her up for a trail. The thought of buying the beautiful Quarter herself has crossed the cowgirl’s mind ever since she learned Bobby planned to sell her, but no matter how difficult, this is also an aspect of the business that she needs to get used to. When she will finally have her own stables in a year's time, horses will come and go. She can’t keep every one of them, and so she needs to set Joplin free.

Judging by the hollow sounds under the tent’s roof, the new owners are on their way. She can distinguish Jody’s voice, and Bobby’s too. A girl with long, brown hair and bright eyes peers over the stable door, already glancing at the beautiful horse lovingly. “I bought her new transport boots,” she announces enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t want her to get hurt on the trailer. I also got a rug for when it gets a little colder during the night. Do you think she will like that?” The teenager holds up a red, woolen rug, which matches the leg protection perfectly. Y/N chuckles at the sight. Joplin is going to get so spoiled. “Those look amazing.” She reaches for one of the boots. “Here, let me help.”

They strap on the protective wear together while Bobby, Jody, and the parents close the deal on the other side of the alleyway. After the money is counted, the ranch owner hands over the horse’s passport together with a certificate of ownership, shaking their hands once more. Y/N waits for her boss to look her way, wondering if he - as owner - should give Joplin away, but the old man gives her a friendly nod, telling her without words that she will have the honor.

“Well, I guess this is it,” she says, fumbling with the leadrope. “She’s yours now.” “Thank you,” the young cowgirl returns. “We will take good care of her. Promise.” Not trusting her voice, the Y/N smiles warmly, but there isn’t a doubt in her mind that the family will. She doesn’t want to get emotional, it wouldn’t be professional after all. And so she does her very best to blink the mist from her eyes when she offers the leadrope, handing over Joplin to her new owner.

The family who just gained an additional member exits the stables, heading to the trailers to start their journey home. The rider, the trader, and the rancher watch them leave, all with smiles on their faces. Everyone involved in this sale wins. Y/N can’t help it, though, and has to wipe a lonely tear from her cheek. Jody, who notices, wraps an arm around her shoulder, sheltering and comforting. “Sorry,” the cowgirl excuses, a little embarrassed. “Don’t be sorry, honey,” she dismisses sweetly. “Caring matters, especially when money comes into play. Someone who cares has far better judgment than someone who’s greedy. Remember that.” Y/N smiles at the wise words, storing that piece of advice with all the others she has picked up along the way.

“Pretty good ride,” Bobby compliments his intern, in his own way trying to cheer her up. “Especially at your first cutting class.” Jody glances aside at the ranch owner, not impressed with his choice of words, before pulling the cowgirl closer into a side hug. “Pretty good? Are you kidding me? You absolutely slayed it! If you’re not giving that girl a rider’s fee, I will.” “Oh, that’s really not necessary,” Y/N objects. “No, you deserve it,” he insists while leafing through the hundred dollar bills in a large envelope. “Bobby, it’s okay. I am already super grateful for everything I’m learning and the experiences that I’m gaining. You have already given me a room and a stable, not to mention Ellen’s cooking. You really don’t have to pay me.”

Y/N shortly places her hand on her boss’s to seize his actions, wanting him to stop counting. The Gold Canyon Ranch might have made good money over the past three days, yet that doesn’t mean a financial disaster is avoided. She doesn’t want a share. The old man holds her gaze and she can tell he’s wondering if either Dean or Jo have spilled a little too much information. Maybe it is because of that assumption that he settles and lets it go. “At least lemme buy you a drink, huh?” he offers before he turns to his business partner. “I just have to round a few things up with Jody here.” “Alright, see you in a bit,” Y/N returns.

As the two business partners walk off to look for a private place where Bobby can give the woman who has made the sale possible her commissioner’s fee, the cowgirl slips into the tack room. She decides to start packing, since the crew presumingly will leave in a couple of hours. She has to keep busy, but Dean breaks into thoughts straight away. Sighing deeply, the cowgirl tries to wrap her head around her boyfriend’s reasoning. His words, which had her freeze to the ground for a second as she left him with his father, still ring in her ears. She’s just an intern. Why would he say such a thing? Why hadn’t he expressed that she is his girlfriend? Why did he never mention his father to her? And if he isn’t even able to talk to her about his family, what else is he hiding?

Her train of thought is interrupted by Jo, who hastily rushes around the corner, her restless eyes searching the tack room before she checks the stables. “Have you seen Dean?” she asks, concerned. “No,” Y/N bitterly answers. “Okay, enough.” Jo places her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to one leg. “What the hell is going on with you two?” “You tell me,” her friend responds coldly. “I was under the impression we were doing just fine until Dean wasn’t even able to introduce me. Clearly, I value our relationship more than he does.”

“What are you talking about? He’s crazy about you,” the blonde cowgirl reminds her. “Is he?” Y/N spins on her heels, finally looking her in the eye. “Because for someone who claims to care about me, he sure keeps an awful lot of secrets.” Jo sighs. “Look, I know Dean isn’t the guy who’s very chatty about those kinds of things, but what makes you say that he doesn’t care?” “Because he couldn’t even tell his family - who he failed to tell me about, by the way - that I’m his girlfriend! He told his father that I am just an int--” “Whoa whoa, wait. His father?” Her best friend stares at her bug-eyed, needing a moment to process the information. “His father is here?!” “Yeah, he showed up in the stables earlier to visit him, before I got on Joplin,” she confirms, somewhat confused by her shocked expression. Jo steps towards the intern, grabbing both her shoulders and looking at her intensely. “Are you absolutely sure?” Y/N shrugs a little, not understanding the earnesty. “He looked a lot like Dean, and he called him his son, so I’m assuming.”

Her best friend just gapes at her, her cousin’s demeanor by the warm-up ring suddenly making much more sense. If he had an encounter with his father, his entire world just got turned upside down. Judging by how messed up he was when his only living parent left him to rot when he was still a child, she can only imagine what his return after all that time has set in motion.

“We need to find Dean, now,” she says, grabbing her friend by the wrist and pulling her out of the tack room. “I’ll explain along the way.” Unsettled, Y/N fastens her pace to jog next to the ranch owner’s daughter. “Jo, what’s going on?” “Dean didn’t lie to you when he said that he hadn’t seen his family in a while. In fact, the two haven’t been in contact for fifteen years,” she explains as they exit the stables.

Stunned by the revelation, the cowgirl next to her tries to make sense of it all. Fifteen years? Why would he have cut all ties with his dad for fifteen years? She can’t possibly imagine doing such a thing. Something horrible must have happened, something beyond comprehension. “That still doesn’t explain why he described me as anything else but his girlfriend,” Y/N brings up. “Listen, you don’t know John. He is a manipulative son of a bitch who has played dirty mind games before. If Dean let on that you were just someone working at the ranch, he was trying to protect you.” Y/N stops dead in her tracks, her hand which is still entwined with Jo’s causing her friend to spin around. “He w - what?”

“You need to talk to him,” her friend insists, dragging her into motion again. “My guess is that he found a place to be alone or he’s liquoring up. Either way, your man is spiraling out of control and he's gonna need his girl in order to get out of that vicious circle.” “He - he won’t talk to me,” she stammers. “Not after how I was with him before my run. God, I can’t believe I was so self-absorbed. I thought he didn’t want me there because he was embarrassed of me, and you’re telling me he was making sure I was safe?”

Jo wishes her companion wouldn’t put herself down like that, because the blonde cowgirl honestly gets why she reacted the way she did, being unaware of the family drama. She never thought the day would come, but here she is, defending her cousin’s honor.

“Like I said; he’s crazy about you, Sis. He has never been like this with somebody else, so if there’s anyone who can through to him it’s you. He might try to--” “- push me away, I know. That’s kind of his thing. I won’t let him,” Y/N promises. Jo nods at that, glad she was able to convince her. “Good, now we just have to find him.”

They arrive at the square where all the shops are situated, most of the stand holders packing their unsold products into cars and onto trailers. The sun has disappeared behind the horizon, the skies painted with red. There are a few people around, music coming from the tent further up where the after-party is in full swing. They meet Benny at the crossing, though, who is looking for his friend as well. “Have you seen him?” Y/N asks the farrier, who has the same worried frown on his face as the girls. “I tried the trailers, but no luck,” Benny says. “Stables?” But she shakes her head. “We were just there.”

The three glance aside when a group of young guys stumbles out of the tent, alternated colored beams in their wake, coming from the disco lights inside. The concern that has Jo’s intestines in knots worsens, because if Dean has hit the bar, reasoning with him is going to be problematic.

Y/N enters the tent, backed up by the other two members of the Gold Canyon Ranch. The band plays a happy, upbeat country song that contradicts the alarming anxiety and dread that is riding her nerves like a racetrack. Frantically, she looks around, trying to identify her boyfriend amongst the crowd. She doesn’t see him in the booths on her right, nor around the dancefloor which she and Dean owned two nights prior. Once she convinces him that she understands why he said those things and that he did nothing wrong, she can wrap her arms around him again, comfort him with a kiss and ask him for another dance. He can continue to be the wonderful, supportive boyfriend, making her laugh and making her smile, lifting her up and making her feel appreciated. They can go back to how things were.

Trying to convince herself that everything is going to be fine, she moves through the mass of people towards the beer taps, when she stops suddenly, the wind being knocked from her lungs by the sight in front of her. At the end of the bar, she finds Dean. Not nursing a beer, sad and alone like she expected to find him, but in company of the same girl who was all over him on Friday night as well; Jamie. The cowboy, already intoxicated, leaning into her when the blonde whispers something in his ear, touching his arm as she does. A blind man would be able to see the chemistry, their conversation easy and carefree. The beautiful girl seated on the stool next to her boyfriend doesn’t show a sign of insecurity, her cheerful and confident personality matching Dean’s perfectly. She is everything Y/N isn’t.

Unable to move, she watches the film play out before her, a story of fun and romance that will push her story with Dean to a tragic end. Tears begin to fill her eyes, her breath hitching in her throat. A part of her hopes that he will turn around and see the devastation that his actions are causing, but he doesn’t, occupied by the gorgeous old flame which seems to have ignited something new. He doesn’t even see me, she realizes. He doesn’t see her, because once again it has been made perfectly clear she’s not worth holding on to. That has always been the case whenever it came to love, hasn’t it? So why on earth did she think that with Dean it was going to be any different? And just like that, she’s back to being invisible again.

Abruptly, Y/N turns around, desperately needing to get out of the buzzing atmosphere, but she collides with Jo the second she does. “Woah! Where are you--” Jo steadies her friend when she almost falls over, holding her by her arms. Stunned, she stares into her eyes, noticing how they are glazed over with absolute heartbreak. “What’s going on?”

But Y/N just shakes her head, moving past her hastily; she can’t stay here a second longer. The upset girl struggles towards the exit and ignores Benny, who watches her departure, perplexed. When he straightens himself again, he glances at Jo, as much confusion on his features as on hers. But when his focus locks on his buddy at the bar, his face falls. “That son of a bitch,” he mutters, his remark triggering the blonde cowgirl before him to turn around as well.

Jo’s jaw falls slack, observing as the two order another round of shots. She can’t believe what she’s seeing. She can’t believe she’s witnessing the man who she thought had made a change for the better, now making a turn for the worse. Frustration boils inside of the petite yet feisty woman, who is biting down hard on her bottom lip when she faces Benny again. “You talk some sense into him before he really crosses the line,” she directs. “I’m gonna go after Y/N and see if I can repair the damage.”

The broad-shouldered wrangler nods and watches Jo take off before he goes in the other direction. He pushes through the mass of people who are enjoying the last party of the event, all oblivious to the dramatic scene they are all a part of. He senses that the drama might become a whole lot worse if he doesn’t manage to pull Dean’s head off his ass.

“What do you think you’re doin’, brother?” Benny claps his hand on his friend’s shoulder, interrupting him before he downs the shot waiting for him on the bar. He scoffs. “What does it look like?” “Seems to me you’re about to get a lil’ too friendly with a gal that ain’t yours,” the farrier says with a lowered voice, hoping it will enlighten him. “We’re just having a drink,” Dean counters, annoyed, reaching for the glass in front of him, but Benny pushes it out of reach. “Do you think that’s what Y/N saw too when she was here just now?” Now he does get the cowboy’s attention, common sense finally pushing to the forefront. “She was here?” he questions, dumbfounded. “Yep, and you’ve got somethin’ to fix. Let’s go,” Benny suggests, his large hand flat on his companion’s back calmly pushing him off the chair and onto his feet, both men giving Jamie a short nod before they leave the party.

The fresh air slaps Dean in the face when he exits the tent, sobering him up enough to realize how bad he screwed up. He knew it was a horrible idea to do the one thing his dad always did when the pain got too much to bear; hit the alcohol and drown his sorrow. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? No matter how hard he fights, no matter how different he aspires to be, he will always be just like his father. The same ego-centric, selfish and spineless dick that breaks everything he touches.

When the two men stop in the middle of the square, Benny looks around, trying to find the girls. He doesn’t spot them sitting at any of the outside tables, nor by the restrooms. “It don’t matter, I already fucked it up anyway,” Dean mutters when his friend glances between the market shops. The farrier pauses his search and gazes at him superciliously through half-lidded eyes. “No disrespect, Chief, but what the hell is wrong with you?” “You really want me to get started on that list? Because if so, we’re gonna be here for a while,” the wrangler returns snarky, avoiding his friend’s blue eyes, taking a few steps away with his hands on his hips. “John showing up here is not y—” “Don’t!” Dean interrupts with venom in his voice, spinning around and pointing a firm finger at Benny. “Don’t you dare bring up my father.”

He’s trembling, the anger that ran in John’s blood for years now raging through his veins. Fire sets alight his insides, flames dancing in his pupils that glare at his comrade warningly. The Southerner takes a tentative step towards him, realizing he needs to get through to Dean, but has to handle the subject as carefully as possible. “You are not him. I know this,” he speaks slow. “I know you love Y/N, too.”

But Dean scoffs and shakes his head, not just denying that he does, but refusing to allow himself that kind of fulfillment. He was stupid to even think that he ever had a chance with her. It was just a matter of time before it all would come crashing down on him, ruining everything that he never deserved in the first place. He can’t love her, because if he does, she will fall victim to him, just like he did to his dad.

“Listen, brother. You’re not seein’ straight right now, but you can still make this right,” Benny continues. “You care too much about her to just throw in the towel. Remember when she first came to the ranch? You were smitten the second she walked through those doors. You called dibs on her for a reason.”

The cowboy’s shoulders rise as he inhales deeply and fall again when he blows out a breath. Of course he remembers. He remembers the first time he laid eyes on her over his poker cards, how she responded to him from across the saloon. He remembers how she gave him a run for his money when he came on too strong. He remembers how he panicked when she didn’t seem interested and the idea of her being with someone else had him strike an agreement with his best mate. He remembers the rides, their first kiss, the moment i-- “You called dibs on me?”

Stunned by the unexpected voice, both men turn to where it came from. Benny gulps thickly when he notices Y/N stepping from under the awning of one of the food trucks, Jo in her shadow. Even in the dim glow from the overhanging strings of lightbulbs, he can see her eyes shimmer with despair. “Y/N, it ain’t as bad as it s--” But the cowgirl cuts him off immediately, shooting Benny a glare. “You can stop with the Southern smooth talk. I need to talk to Dean alone.”

After exchanging looks over the course of several uncomfortable seconds, both Benny and Jo step aside, sauntering away from the couple. Once their friends have disappeared behind one of the trailers, Y/N returns her focus to her boyfriend again, her judgemental stare boring into his soul. “I asked you a question,” she repeats, managing to prevent her voice from trembling. “Did you make some kind of pact with your buddies?”

Dean doesn’t answer, but he sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble. He lifts his eyes from the ground for a moment, glancing over before he averts them again. The woman standing a few feet away from him chuckles cynically; she knows enough.

“So what, women are like cattle to you? This is a funny bet?” The cowboy frustratingly shakes his head once. “You know it’s not.” “Do I?!” Y/N returns, her tone sharper and higher than anticipated. “Because if this isn’t just a game, then why did you shove me aside for some blonde broad--” “For fuck’s sake, we were just having a drink! We had this argument already!” Dean snaps, throwing his arms to the side.

Taken aback by the hostility, Y/N stares at him. She has seen this anger before, but just a glimpse of it. It was when Ash lost his job and blamed them, in particular Dean, who took the acquisitions hard. That evening it was mostly guilt that triggered the cowboy to lash out to her and the second he realized he had upset her, he apologized. But now an apology doesn’t even seem to cross his mind that is clouded by darkness far greater. At this point, she’s not sure if she would be able to accept it anyway.

“Well, it didn’t make much of a difference, now did it?” she returns after using the dreadful silence to recover. “Apparently not,” Dean scoffs, shifting his unfocused gaze aside. Mulling over the chain of events that have led to this moment, he swallows with difficulty, indignation taking off the heat for a bit, stopping it from boiling over. The calm gives Y/N enough courage to step closer. “Dean, I know today was a whirlwind. I know - I’m aware that what happened in the stables earlier has sent you into a tailspin,” she sympathizes, careful not to mention his father after witnessing his outburst with Benny when he did, “but this isn’t you.”

The disheartened guy before her huffs again, sardonic and hopeless. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Because it’s exactly who he is. This is who he was always destined to be. It’s how he was raised, it’s in his DNA. For two months he allowed himself to hope that maybe he could change, that maybe he could be better than the poor excuse of a man his father was. Y/N gave him that pipe dream, and even though it’s unreasonable to be upset with her for seeing the good in him, it’s amongst one of the many frustrations he’s experiencing.

“It is. This -” Dean points at himself, his upper lip twitching with disgust. “- this is who I am.” She shakes her head, not ready to give up. “It’s not. You are kind, loving, your heart is--” “You don’t know me!” He exclaims, running a hand through his hair and trapping the light-brown locks between his fingers before he gestures wildly. “You think you do, but you don’t have a fucking clue! I haven’t told you anything about my life--” “Then talk to me!” Y/N yells back as he turns away from her. “I CAN’T!!”

Dean is facing her again, vexation flaring in his emerald green eyes. His heart beats so vigorously that it has his entire body pulsating. He takes her in, the beautiful young woman who he fell for, and he can see that her hope is fading. It pains him to hurt her, but he’s left with no choice. Being angry with him will make things easier, though. It will help her move on. If she is going to feel sorry for him, the pity would only prompt the caring girl to hold on and try to piece the shattered shards back together, and he can’t let that happen, simply because it’s useless. He refuses to take her down with him, to burden her with the same demons that he has to live with. He can’t do that to her, not to the one he loves. She’s way too good for him, so pure, so selfless and gentle. She’s everything he shouldn’t have, everything he isn’t worthy of. It’s better this way, it’s better to end it now.

“I can’t. Who you think I am, it’s not me. I’ve been lying to you, pretending. I can’t be the person you need me to be,” he claims, calmer now that he knows what he has to do.

Y/N’s breathing picks up slightly, the air leaving her with a shudder each time. His words seem so definite already, but he can’t possibly believe that they are not right for each other, can he? All those moments they shared, all the affection he offered; that was real. That was him. Why can’t he see he’s exactly the man she needs? “And what person is that?” she questions, hoping that whatever argument he fires back, she can turn around.

Dean is quiet for a few seconds, thinking about a fitting answer. The profound fondness he feels for her begins to resurface and it’s tearing him apart. She needs to understand that the fairytale they have been living is a facade he can’t continue to maintain. Dreams never last forever, this is where they wake up. “You need a guy who is honest, who you can trust. Look at us; I can’t even bring myself to tell you about my family, my past, or anything for that matter,” he reminds her. “I knew what I was in for, Dean. I don’t expect you to spill every dark secret you think you have. You don’t have to spell out everything to be with me. We can work it out!” she argues desperately. But the cowboy shakes his head, feeling the sorrow brim in his eyes. He wants her to be right so bad, but he knows he can’t live a lie. “You don’t get it, okay? I’m a fucking mess. I did things that are unforgivable. I don’t have my shit together, but you do,” he says, a sad smile barely pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You know exactly where you wanna go in life, what you want to achieve.” She steps closer, praying that if he lets her, she can eventually bridge the space between them. “We can do that together,” she pleads with all the hope she has left. “We can’t,” he returns, having gathered every bit of strength to look at her before he pronounces the words who he knows are the truth. “This isn’t gonna work.”

The tears that have gathered become too much even for a dam to withhold roll down her cheeks now. An already unbearable ache gets worse, her heart physically hurting and taking up so much space that Y/N feels like she can’t breathe. He can’t be doing this. He can’t pull the plug, not after all the epic moments they shared. Every warm look, every gentle touch, every loving kiss; every blissful memory. How can he possibly let go of that? Refusal has her reach out to him, one last attempt to repair what is already broken. “Dean, stop… Why are you hurting me like this?” she cries.

The cowboy drops his gaze while fighting the tears and the grief for what he’s losing. He wants to reach out too, take her hand in his, but he can��t cave now, he can’t be selfish. He has to do this for her. “Because if I don’t, if I allow this to go any further, it’s gonna hurt a lot more.” Dean fixates on anything but Y/N, no longer able to endure the sight of her falling apart in front of him. It’s dreadfully quiet as if the world stopped turning, and in a way, for the two individuals in the middle of the square, it just did. “So - so what? This is it?” she stammers, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re breaking up with me?” Biting his lip now, he focuses on what this decision will offer the woman at arm’s reach. An uncomplicated life in which she can pursue her dreams without having to worry about someone dragging her down. She can be free to do whatever she wishes and that’s all he can ask for. But in order to provide her with that opportunity, he has to let her go. “Yeah. We’re over.”

Like a bullet fired from a gun, the defining words rip through her chest and pierce her heart. The silence after the shot is deafening, canceling out the sounds of their surroundings. The streaming pathways of desolation gather at the end of her chin and drip down on the dry soil, enough to darken the dust. Her eyes are glued on him, though, but he doesn’t return her gaze. The conclusion of their relationship sinks in with every passing second, leaving her soul in ruins. It’s over. They are over. And there is nothing she can do to change the course of history.

Unable to be in his presence, she forces her feet to move, turning away from the man she is no longer with. Dean can’t watch her leave, fixed on the dark earth where her tears fell just moments ago. From his peripheral vision, he notices Jo rushing by to go after her friend. Good, he thinks to himself, she’ll have someone to lean on.

After standing there for what feels like an hour, he takes a few hesitant steps towards one of the trailers, placing both hands flat on the metal, searching for something to ground him while he closes his eyes and lets his head hang. He can’t find it, though, not in the cold steel, not in his reasoning behind this brutal decision. The resentment builds again, and Dean pulls his right hand back, balls his fist, and almost puts a dent into the barrier before him. The action only confirms what he deep down knew to be true all along. All that rage, the self-hatred; he can’t bottle it up forever, so it’s for the best that Y/N will no longer be there to witness it.

Dean bends his elbows, his forearms now pressed against the iron and his forehead resting between his clenching fists, as he struggles to pull in a shaky breath. He feels like he’s imploding, the outer frame of his structure caving in on itself. His mouth falls open, his bottom lip trembling, then he allows the tears to cascade down his face.

He can sense Benny by his side, but Dean is too wrapped up in his own destruction to really acknowledge him. The comforting hand on his shoulder is a touch he barely registers, his body is already rebuilding its emotional walls, caging away his ability to feel and casting it in a permanent shadow. That’s where it will remain, encapsulated in darkness, cut out from the light that his girl had to give. Benny stays by his side, though, letting him know that he is there for his friend, as much as Jo is there for hers.

“Sis, wait,” the ranch owner’s daughter tries desperately, following the woman who just had her heart broken into the stables. Her request remains unanswered, Y/N only stopping when she has reached Meadow’s box, her hands shaking while she tries to unlock the door. When she’s unable to, Jo quickly steps in and opens the gate, holding it for her companion. The bay horse has lifted her head, alerted by the commotion in the alley, but clearly recognizes the person stepping inside. She seems confused by her owner’s frail state of mind, though, pricked ears and concerned eyes taking in the situation.

The cowgirl folds an arm around Meadow’s neck while she buries her face in the Quarter’s brown coat, then she breaks. She breaks into a million segments, lost in the mixture of wood shavings and straw underneath their feet. The air is too thin to breathe and sobs wreck her entire form.

Never in her life has she felt so unwanted, purposeless, and vulnerable as she’s feeling now. Dean let her in and she trusted him to handle her with grace, yet the second she was comfortable with this new way of being, he pushed her out. She thought she knew the man she felt such a strong connection with. Yes, she realized very early on that it was going to be difficult to get through to him. The soldier with thick armor had stacked the barricades high, but that never intimidated her. After all, she had climbed mountains before.

She gave Dean her all, but in the end, it turns out it was useless. Y/N isn’t even sure what’s real and what’s not, if the cowboy has been wearing a mask all along, or just now turned into someone that he isn’t. It doesn’t matter, though. He has made himself perfectly clear; she is not the girl he wants to be with.

The only one stopping her from collapsing is Meadow, who holds still like a statue, aware that if she moves, her owner will fall to the ground and might never be able to get up again. The horse senses exactly how to handle Y/N, the usually so spirited mare now timid and calm, picking up on the despairing energy.

Jo, who had silently slipped into the tack box to get a bottle of water and some tissues, comes back into the stable, tearing up at the sight of the two who have such a strong bond. The thousand-pound animal has curved her neck around her human, resting her large head on the cowgirl’s shoulder. As if trying to comfort her, Meadow twitches her lips, gently rubbing them against her owner’s back, her way of showing affection. People can be cruel sometimes, to others, to horses. Jo has witnessed it, and she knows Dean has too, which has ultimately led to his dreadful decision to cut Y/N loose, and by doing so he has hurt her in terrible ways himself. But at least the girl has her horse.

Meadow, who is oblivious to the reason behind her owner’s sorrow, offers solace nonetheless. Quietly, she waits until the cries die down and the tears begin to dry, and even then she stays close to her person, having a better sense of direction than most humans do. Y/N’s four-legged friend is honest, treats her with kindness, and loves her unconditionally. It’s a special connection no man can ever steal away, yet many can learn from. This incredible being is her soul horse, a term Dean has taught her, the one who she thought was going to be her partner in life until he decided otherwise. He is right, though; it is over between them. She has lost Dean’s heart, but at the end of the day, no matter what happens, she will always have Meadow.

That’s that then. They are over...

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-five here

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faulty-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Dirty Date Night Intentions.

Warning: 18+ Has sex. You get the drill. (I am bad at writing smut RIP. You have been warned.)

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: MiriTama (Mirio Togata and Tamaki Amajiki)

“I got popcorn!” Mirio’s cheery voice sounded from the kitchen, making Tamaki jump in surprise from the couch. “Shh!” He scolded the energic blond even though he was used to the man’s behavior by now. They were still in the dorms and all their classmates were probably asleep or at least should be. Which left the two of them to take freedom of the common area, Mirio insisted it would be a fun date night but so far it wasn’t proving to be true.

“Oh, oops sorry!” Mirio said with that same big goofy smile on his face, the one he always wore. Sometimes Tamaki got tired of it but damned if he didn’t love it at the same time. Mirio was his best friend after all and as of a few months ago, they became boyfriends. It was strange, Tamaki wasn’t expecting Mirio to confess such feelings for him but one way or another it happened and right after, Mirio insisted they go on a date. Just to see how they’d work out.

It was hard at first, especially with how others reacted. Tamaki hated when all eyes were on them when Mirio insisted they hold hands in public or even dare press a loving kiss to his cheek which only made Tamaki flush furiously. It was worse inside the halls of U.A. High especially because of all the gossip that started. Talk of the two heroes dating one another and it didn’t exactly help that they were both males too. Thankfully U.A. had a Policy that protected their students from getting harrassed over such matters. So that was one less thing to worry about.

Still, Tamaki remembers how confidently Mirio would strut down the school hallways, dragging Tamaki along by the hand. He always escorted Tamaki wherever he needed to go, which was nice. But it was still a little embarrassing how the blond would kiss him before entering their homeroom. Now that a couple months had passed and everyone got used to their relationship, it was old news. Nejire had been supportive of the two boys as well and often went on about how happy she was for them.

Least someone was on their side, not that it mattered much on days like this. When it was just the two of them, the world absent from their minds. “Ah!” Mirio exclaimed as he plopped down recklessly next to Tamaki, leaving a few stray pieces of popcorn on the floor from the sudden movement. “Mirio!” Tamaki hissed as he scooted away. “Hey! Where are you going? Come here, it’s cuddle time sunshine!” Mirio insisted as he reached over and wrapped his strong arm around Tamaki.

When it came to a contest of strength, Tamaki knew Mirio would always win and that’s why he cried out when he was pulled back into the other's chest. “You need to be careful! You ...you spilled the popcorn ...” Tamaki pointed out, his finger directed towards the floor where sure enough the pieces of popcorn still remained. Mirio seemed clueless as he tilted his head, those baby blues looking at the mess he involuntarily created. “Is that what you’re worried about baby? I’ll clean it up later, come on. Let’s focus on cuddling, it is date night right?” He said as he turned to Tamaki with his beautiful smile.

“Mm ...” Damn that smile, it was too good! Tamaki sighed in defeat and did as Mirio wished. Leaning against the bigger male, he nuzzled into him and tried to find a comfortable position. Bringing his legs up, he laid his head against Mirio’s shoulder and reached out to take a handful of popcorn. Happily chewing it while Mirio reached over to ruffle his boyfriend’s dark messy hair. “You look so cute when you’re leaning against me, Tamaki.” He took great pride in knowing how badly he could make Tamaki flush, it was like he had some kind of mysterious power over him. But he tried not to abuse it.

In actuality, he just knew how to rile Tamaki up. Knew how to make him melt and submit. Which was useful at times, especially when Tamaki was being stubborn. “How about we put on that movie I promised huh?” He grinned and winked at Tamaki before grabbing the nearby remote. He was thankful that at least one of their classmates had gotten a streaming service that could be easily accessed through an app on the television and even more grateful when they agreed to share it with the rest of the third years.

The blond hummed softly as he navigated through the movie selection, in all truth he already knew what he was looking for. Let’s just say he had a small chat with Mineta, the topics of which revolved around sex scenes in certain movies and the first year didn’t disappoint when he confidently gave Mirio a whole list. But he did mention one particular movie that had the most graphic sex scenes in it and that’s, unfortunately, the one Mirio was going for.

Now he wasn’t a pervert or at least he tried not to be, but they had only had sex a few times since they started dating and it was always so hard to get Tamaki in the mood. Mirio didn’t blame him of course, seeing as he knew Tamaki’s shy demeanor. But maybe a little push wouldn’t hurt, of course, he’d never do anything his boyfriend didn’t want. But damned if he couldn’t try to persuade him into it.

“Hey sunshine, let’s watch this one.” Mirio insisted, turning to look at Tamaki who only looked confused at the choice of movie. “Uh ...are you sure you want to ...watch that one?” Tamaki questioned, it seemed a little odd. Usually, Mirio picked pleasant and well family-friendly movies. The rating in the top corner didn’t go unnoticed, that much was for sure. It actually made him worry a bit, was something wrong with his boyfriend?

Mirio frowned at Tamaki’s question. “What’s the matter? I just thought it’d be nice to watch something a little different. No harm done, right!?” He said before leaning close to press a loving kiss to Tamaki’s forehead. “Let’s just try watching it, we can always change it if you don’t like it! Promise!” He watched Tamaki’s lips form a frown before he finally indulged Mirio’s request. “If you say so ...” That big smile came back to the blond’s face, this was going to be good.

Pushing the play button, Mirio tossed the remote onto the arm of the couch and pulled Tamaki closer, the dark-haired man gave a squeak but made no attempt to push Mirio away which he took as a sign that Tamaki was comfortable. He hummed as he watched the opening credits while stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth, licking his lips of the remaining buttery residue.

The bowl of popcorn was half gone by the time Mirio was growing bored of the movie, he did pick the right movie didn’t he? It had been a good 30 minutes in, so where were the sex scenes? He almost wanted to call it quits and bring Tamaki to his room. Maybe he could rile him up another way. He turned his glance at Tamaki who was still comfortably nestled against his shoulder, eyes glued to the television and the faintest smile on his face. Why didn’t he just watch Tamaki? He had to admit, his boyfriend was beautiful. Fair skin, dark messy hair and those adorable pointy ears.

It almost made him want to lean in and nibble on them, Tamaki had sensitive ears after all and it made it all the more fun to hear him moan out when Mirio’s mouth got to work on them. Yes, his mouth was good for something other than talking. He barely noticed the smile on his face as he stared at his boyfriend, that was until Tamaki felt that burning gaze begin to make a hole through him. He wanted to turn and tell Mirio to stop staring at him, though he knew that wouldn’t do anything because than Mirio would just shower him down with compliments revolving around the fact that Tamaki was simply too beautiful not to watch.

There was that fact and the contributing contender was that soft feminine moan coming from the television. “Hm!?” Tamaki turned his attention back to the movie and felt his jaw drop when he saw the two characters begin to strip off their clothes, the male protagonist sinking his teeth into the female’s neck as he guided her towards the bed. Tamaki's face went red and he held his hands up as if shielding himself from the sex happening on screen. “M-Mirio! Why’d you pick this!?” He exclaimed before giving a soft hiss, he needed to be quiet before he woke everyone up.

“Huh?” Mirio looked lost a moment before turning his head towards the television. Sure enough, on-screen was a sex scene. One of many Mirio hoped, he took a minute to appreciate it. Watching as the male grasped those breasts and gave them a squeeze. “Mm, that looks like fun doesn’t it Tamaki?” Mirio’s tone was nothing less than happy as he reached over to grab Tamaki’s arm which struggled to stay up. “N-No!” The raven-haired man cried out which only made Mirio laugh.

“Aw come on sunshine, it’s okay.” He tried to insist, though part of him was truly amused by how his timid boyfriend reacted to a simple sex scene. It was adorable, especially those flushed cheeks. Mirio could feel himself twitch in his pants, damn sometimes Tamaki didn’t even have to do much to get Mirio going. Of course, it was safe to say the blond was more open and willing to jump into things while Tamaki ...not so much. Not that that was a problem, as his best friend and boyfriend. Mirio would always be there to give him the support he needed.

But not right now, right now he only had one thing on his mind. Tamaki continued to cry out in protest as Mirio began pulling him, situating the raven-haired boy onto his lap. Tamaki could feel his boyfriend’s strong chest against his back and the fact that he was practically forced to watch what was playing across the television screen didn’t help the situation. Tamaki wasn’t having a good time and even brought his legs up to kick them in protest. But Mirio kept a stronghold on his hips, which prevented the shy boy from actually getting up. “M-Mirio what are you doing!?” He hissed once more, wanting an explanation already. It’s not that he didn’t welcome this, being seated in his boyfriend’s lap. Hell, it was probably something most people dreamed of, being so close to a Pro Hero especially one like Lemillion.

But they didn’t know his dark side. “Ah!” Tamaki felt himself tremble when those strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him back again. Mirio could only smile as he finally restricted his boyfriend’s movements and pressed his lips against Tamaki’s exposed neck which caused resulted in the raven gasping “M-Mirio?” The innocent way Tamaki said his name, God he loved it. Mirio’s fingers slipped up his boyfriend’s shirt, brushing the sensitive skin of his stomach area. The commotion from the television continued to sound, bed squeaking and cries of pleasure.

He kissed up Tamaki’s ear, swiping along the edge of it before whispering “Wouldn’t it be fun to do it while watching this Tamaki?” He could feel his boyfriend tremble in his arms and once more begin to kick his legs as a method of escape which made Mirio frown. Sometimes, just sometimes he wished Tamaki was easier to relax. “N-No way! We’re in the living room Mirio! I can’t ....I can’t ...” He tried pleading with the blond as he struggled against his hold. “Well wait a minute, sunshine, I-” His words were cut off by the sound of Tamaki somehow freeing himself and turning to look at Mirio with an expression that was settled somewhere between angry and embarrassed.

“You always do things ...l-like this!” Tamaki said, standing there with his shoulders trembling. “I’m going back to bed ...” Ducking his head, he turned away from the other. Mirio panicked and sprang up from the couch, grabbing Tamaki’s arm in an attempt to yank him back. “I’m sorry Tamaki!” He tried pleading, maybe he could convince his boyfriend to at least get back to the couch. Strong arms once more found their way to Tamaki’s waist and he pulled the smaller male to him. Nuzzling his face into the raven’s shoulder and inhaled his aroma. Tamaki always smelled so good for some reason.

“Please don’t leave! Come on, I’ll make it worth your while!” He insisted as he leaned up to kiss Tamaki on the cheek and heard that ever so familiar sigh come. In other words, it was safe to assume he had won this little confrontation. Tamaki turned to look at Mirio, even now he had trouble looking at his boyfriend. He was tall, handsome, had beautiful hair and eyes. What wasn’t there to love about Mirio? Apart from how he did things like this, he was pretty sure Mirio had a strange kink of some kind but he didn’t want to look too much into it.

“Is ...that a promise?” He questioned with narrowed eyes, but Mirio only smiled at him. “Of course sunshine! I wouldn’t lie to you, ever!” Tamaki glanced down a moment before taking a deep breath. “Alright.” He tilted his head back up, giving Mirio a smile in return before he reached up to wrap his arms around that strong neck. Pressing a kiss to those lips that never seemed to stop moving. “I’ll sit ...on the couch,” Tamaki said, despite the fact he immediately had second thoughts.

“Right this way my love!” Mirio cheerfully spoke as he escorted Tamaki like always. “Get comfortable.” He insisted as he watched the other hesitantly take their seat. Tamaki was so cute, like a frightened kitten. But Mirio knew how to make him purr. “Now, I promise I won’t restrain you. Instead ...” The blond slowly got onto his knees, positioned in front of Tamaki who looked at him with a scared expression, almost like he wasn’t prepared for what Mirio would do.

“I’ll do this ...” That grin alone made Tamaki shiver as he watched his boyfriend lean forward and with that long thick tongue, swipe along his zipper. “Ah ...” Tamaki hissed softly at the feeling, which left the fabric moist. His tongue continued to brush against the zipper before he wrapped his lips around the outline of Tamaki’s hardening cock. Mirio couldn’t help but smile as he felt his boyfriend grow harder and harder due to his advances. He pulled away and wiped his mouth, smiling at Tamaki who was currently covering his face. More than likely embarrassed by the lewd noises he had been making, but there was no shame in it. When you felt so good, you just had to let it out, right?

“Come on sunshine, spread your legs a little. It’s okay.” Mirio insisted and his request was only greeted with a groan of protest. He pouted and reached up to part Tamaki’s thighs apart himself. “There you go! Relax Tamaki, I’ll make sure to be gentle ...” He promised though Mirio was always gentle with his anxiety-ridden boy. Unless Tamaki clearly said he wanted it rough, but most of the time Mirio just made sweet love as opposed to fucking Tamaki’s brains out. Truth be told, Mirio was more about making love than anything. Being able to share something so intimate and be so close to another like that, it always felt amazing.

He watched Tamaki lower his hands, looking down as Mirio once more got to work. Tongue tracing the bulge that now strained against his boyfriend's pants, Tamaki almost hated how responsive he was to Mirio. “Ah! Mirio ...d-don’t do that!” He pleaded, but he only got a chuckle from Mirio. “Don’t do what sunshine, this?” He questioned before opening his mouth and gently sinking his teeth into the bulge, nibbling on it for a moment as Tamaki continued with those cries of protest. But Mirio knew he was enjoying it, especially since those nasty little hips were moving.

“I think it’s finally time I give you some relief, would you like that?” Mirio asked, reaching up to rub Tamaki through his pants. “Ah ...M-Mirio!” The raven cried out, wiggling madly on the couch. Hips thrusting into Mirio’s hand as he only continued to please. It was madness. “Mm ...please Mirio!” He finally gave in and reached over to thread his hand through Mirio’s hair, gripping it tightly. His face twisted, cheeks already flushed and a moan escaped him as he watched Mirio grasp his zipper between his teeth and pull it down.

A soft hiss escaped Tamaki’s mouth as Mirio pulled his throbbing cock out, damn his boyfriend’s fingers felt cool against his hot flesh and he shivered when Mirio traced over the large vein. “Mm ...” Biting his lip, Tamaki curiously looked down the hallway that led to the bedrooms. He really hoped no one would come out and see this. Mirio on his knees before the fellow third-year student, stroking him and causing those delightful noises to escape.

“You like this sunshine? Does it feel good?” Mirio’s voice came in a soft purr as he continued to stroke Tamaki, watching as that small dribble of precum came from the tip. Mirio grinned and leaned forward, kitten licking the small mess clean. Tamaki’s taste made him moan in delight. He could feel that hand tighten in his hair which made him lookup. “You taste so good, Tamaki.” Mirio said as he licked his lips, “ I think I want more.” With that, he leaned forward and circled his tongue around the sensitive tip, collecting any remaining precum.

Of course, it was hard not to chuckle when he heard those soft whimpers coming from Tamaki, which only grew louder as Mirio parted his lips and slowly took that hot flesh in his mouth. Tamaki always tasted like salt and it was something that Mirio was growing to love, well that and the feeling of that cock against his tongue. Giving a soft moan, he began to work his lips up and down Tamaki’s shaft. Working his tongue in circular motions, he could hear those muffled cries coming from his boyfriend who currently had his hand clasped over his mouth.

Normally Mirio could insist that Tamaki could be as loud as he wanted but given the current circumstance. He couldn’t really blame his boyfriend for wanting to stay as quiet as possible. Despite Mirio’s mouth feeling so hot and moist against Tamaki’s cock which made the raven wiggle like mad. His body jerked involuntarily and though he still had one hand threaded in Mirio’s hair. It seems the blonde had no trouble keeping up with the sudden jerks and wiggles.

Regardless, Tamaki loved the sight of his boyfriend sucking him off. Those lips stretched perfectly over his cock, the noises that came and sent vibrations through him and the way Mirio’s strong hand wrapped around him. Pumping him in time with his mouth, it was almost too much. “M-Mirio ...I ...can’t ...” Tamaki got a little impatient sometimes, but Mirio didn’t mind. In fact, it made him smile to know he was doing such a good job. He pushed Tamaki out of his mouth and tilted his head up.

“Can’t what sunshine?” He teased as he reached up to wipe his mouth of any saliva and gave a smile when he felt those fingers tighten in his hair. He knew what Tamaki wanted, he just enjoyed hearing those precious words. “Please ...Mirio.” Those words were soft and pitiful and they only made Mirio chuckle. “Please what? Please make you cum, hm?” He chuckled as Tamaki shyly nodded, he was so cute sometimes. How could Mirio deny that face?

“Well alright! But you asked for it.” He warned as he reached up to push two fingers past Tamaki’s lips. “Suck them sunshine, I need them nice and wet if they’re going to be inside you.” It was unbelievable how such dirty things could come from a man with a smile so sweet. He could feel Tamaki hesitate a moment before wrapping those lips around his fingers. Bobbing his head slowly and using his tongue to give soft kitten licks.

Mirio couldn’t help but chuckle, “That’s it, you’re doing such a good job. Use your tongue more.” He instructed, despite wanting to do such filthy things, Mirio always made sure to properly prepare his boyfriend. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt the person he loved. Tamaki’s expression was nothing short of adorable as he continued to suck his boyfriend’s fingers, cheeks flushed and soft beads of sweat dripped down his face.

“Hm, hmm.” Mirio hummed softly and wiggled his fingers around Tamaki’s talented little tongue before pulling them out. In the dim lighting of the room, he could his fingers glistening. Oddly enough it made him smile, in a way he found it kind of sexy to be using Tamaki's own spit to stretch his hole. “Uh, Mirio ...how are you going to ...” The shy man’s voice came to a halt and Mirio could guess what he was trying to say.

“Stand up and pull those sweatpants off baby,” Mirio instructed, even though there was a chance at any moment one of their classmates could wake up. He was willing to take that chance, it was actually kind of exciting. Though Tamaki didn’t seem to be on the same level of thinking as he groaned and covered his face again. “I c-can’t! That's too embarrassing and w-what if someone comes and-” Mirio quickly silenced those lips by leaning over and capturing them with his own.

Pulling away with a soft pop, Mirio smiled at his boyfriend. “Don’t worry about that, just live a little.” He insisted, sometimes Tamaki just needed a little push, a little encouragement. His hands then reached for the waistband of those sweatpants. “Lift your hips up.” The blond instructed, even though Tamaki just gave another groan. “Come on ...” Mirio pushed further as he began to pull down the waistband himself. “Mm! Okay, okay ...” Tamaki finally seemed to give in and aided Mirio by lifting his hips up so the sweatpants easily slid down his legs.

Mirio couldn’t help but grin and tossed the clothing piece aside without a care. “There, that wasn’t so hard right? I love you sunshine!” Once more, he lowered himself to the floor. Reaching out to grab Tamaki’s hips so he could pull him forward. “Ah! Mirio ...don’t! I’m gonna f-fall ...” He could only shake his head at his boyfriend’s continued concerns. “I would never let you fall, Tamaki, just trust me. Lift your ass more, show me how beautiful you are.” He insisted, buttering Tamaki up with compliments always seemed to work.

Despite the fact that Tamaki had dug his nails into the couch and felt frozen with nerves. He tried to do as Mirio instructed, scooting his bottom half down just a touch more. But he felt flush when Mirio’s hands grasped onto his cheeks and spread them, exposing his clenching hole. The cold air didn’t seem to help with that, but chances are Mirio was going to warm him up. “Ah!” Tamaki cried out when he felt those fingers brush against his entrance, causing it to twitch in response.

Mirio’s fingers felt warm and wet and more than likely all too eager to please. “Take a deep breath okay?” Mirio instructed as he applied pressure to that all too eager looking hole. “M-Mirio ...ah ...” The raven moaned as he felt one finger probe his entrance, pushing past his tight ring of muscle. Mirio had such thick fingers. “That’s it, you’re such a good boy for me, baby.” He grinned as he wrapped his free hand around his boyfriend’s neglected cock, still moist from his little blow job.

Another moan of pleasure came from Tamaki as he felt that finger wiggle inside him. Mirio knew all the little secrets about his boyfriend’s body, including which way to twist his finger inside to get that golden reaction. “I love the noises you make sunshine, they make me pretty excited!” He could feel his own cock twitching in his pants, growing harder at the erotic sounds coming from his boyfriend. But it wouldn’t be very nice if he pleased himself, of course not! He was going to please Tamaki, make sure he feels a Lemillon times satisfied.

His hand worked gently, stroking Tamaki as he got used to his finger. “You like this baby? I think I can fit another finger inside you, I love fucking you like this.” Mirio’s voice practically purred as he paused and slowly pushed another finger in. Tamaki’s tight hole seemed to resist a moment, which made it a little hard. But with a little more pressure, Mirio moaned as he watched that eager hole wrap around his digits “Feels good huh?” He questioned as he looked up at Tamaki who looked pretty satisfied.

“Y-Yes! Mirio, i-it feels good.” He couldn’t help but smile, he loved the way Tamaki responded. His breathless, desperate voice. The way he wiggled his body in response to Mirio’s touch, it was beautiful. But at the same time, it made Mirio want to pull out his own monster and make Tamaki scream his name. But that would be a reward best saved for later, particularly in the dorm room where Tamaki could scream into a pillow. “Hm?” Mirio snapped out of his thoughts when he felt his boyfriend’s delicate fingers brush the messy tips of his hair.

“Oh sorry! Did you want something sunshine?” He questioned, resuming the movement of his fingers. Spreading them in an attempt to loosen Tamaki.”Ah y-yes! Please ...I ...I want more!” Mirio would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little surprised by his boyfriend’s request. Usually, Tamaki was shy when it came to requests, but Mirio wouldn’t be so cruel as to deny him. Oh no. A wicked smile came to his face and he leaned closer to that beautiful stiff cock. His hot breath tickling it as he said, “More? Heh okay, you asked for it! I’m going to make you quiver.” That was a promise and Mirio hadn’t broken one yet.

His lips parted once more and slowly, he took Tamaki into his mouth. His lips sealed tight around the sensitive tip, using his tongue to swirl around the flesh as a means to tease his boyfriend. “Mm ...ah, your t-tongue. It’s so h-hot and wet around me! Uh, it feels amazing!” Tamaki’s praises started coming as Mirio worked his mouth harder. From top to bottom, Mirio eagerly moaned around Tamaki. The vibrations of which caused his boyfriend to squirm as he laid there on the couch, legs spread and moaning desperately for Mirio.

His hole was practically dripping as those fingers continued to plunge deep inside him, brushing against his most sensitive spot. His teeth sank into his bottom lip to prevent too much noise, despite the fact that at this point he could care less if someone walked out in saw them. Between Mirio’s mouth and those fingers, he was losing his mind. His nails were dug into the soft surface of the couch cushion and he wiggled violently, an action that caused him to clench down on Mirio’s fingers.

The blond seemed to notice this and pulled up, separating his mouth from Tamaki’s cock with another pop. “Are you getting close sunshine? You’re so tight around my fingers. You're going to cum, aren’t you?” Mirio chuckled and swallowed his boyfriend once more, “Damn!” Tamaki cried out and bucked his hips. Mirio gagged softly as the tip hit the back of his throat, he swallowed around the hot flesh in an attempt to calm his gag reflex. It was kind of funny, how Tamaki could get sometimes. To the point of begging and even at rare times take control. Much like he was trying to do now.

“Mm ...” He reached out, placing his hand on Tamaki’s stomach in an effort to stop his squirming. Applying just enough pressure to get his message through, but it didn’t seem like Tamaki was reacting well to it. His hips still tried to move which didn’t make Mirio’s job any easier. The blond groaned and rotated his fingers, pulling them back and violently shoving them back inside. The soft plush sound of his knuckles hitting Tamaki’s skin echoed softly between their own noises of pleasure.

He could tell Tamaki was close, so why not step up his game? He continued to bob his head, tongue swirling around that shaft and an impressive amount of spit was dripping down, making its way towards Tamaki’s plush balls. “Ah! Mirio! Yes, I’m c-close, don’t ...stop, please! It feels so good, y-your mouth.” He couldn’t believe such words were coming from his lips but even so it seemed like Mirio was more than happy to oblige and continued his assault, fingers curling inside Tamaki’s tight hole.

“Ah!” Tamaki clenched his jaw and leaned his head back. Stuttered breathes sounded as he curled his fingers tighter in those blond locks. Hips desperately thrusting as he felt his stomach tighten. “I-It’s coming! M-Mirio! I f-feel it!” He warned before a whine escaped as Mirio pulled his mouth away from Tamaki’s ready to blow member. “It’s alright, baby go ahead. You can cum in my mouth, better not to leave any evidence right?” He chuckled before engulfing Tamaki once more, an action that made the raven shiver.

Getting back to work, Mirio could feel how Tamaki’s member twitched against his tongue. His fingers came to a slow stop as he felt the first few drops of semen against his tongue. “Mirio!” Tamaki hissed before clasping his hand over his mouth, his hips hovering just above the cushion of the couch as he felt his release. Filling Mirio’s mouth, almost a little too eagerly. But he knew his boyfriend loved a challenge.”Uh ...ah ...” Tamaki trembled in after pleasure and whimpered softly as he felt those fingers being pulled from his needy hole.

“Mm ...” Mirio smiled as he wiped the excess drippings from his lips and swallowed his boyfriend’s seed. Tamaki always tasted good. “Well, I think I can say that was a successful date night.” He spoke with a smile before turning to look over his shoulder. The movie credits were now displayed, rolling up the screen without care. He chuckled and turned back to Tamaki, hovering over the man that now covered his face in shame as he slowly came off from his high. “Tamaki?” Reaching over, he gently pulled those hands away and was greeted with a shy but satisfied face.

“D-Did we really just ...” Tamaki began but Mirio only nodded in response. “We sure did! And you were so good Tamaki!” Mirio offered a kind smile and leaned forward to capture his boyfriend’s lips. “I love you sunshine! You’re the best ...but maybe we should take this to our dorm room now.” Tamaki frowned and reached for the nearest pillow. “You say that now!?” He cried as he hit Mirio with the soft object. Some date night indeed.

#miritama #mirio x tamaki #bnha fanfiction #bnha miritama #mirio togata #Tamaki Amajiki #[This is a smut fanfiction. You have been warned.]

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