#but y’all are doin’ such a good job with him that i can’t help but swoon a little

[missmaywemeetagain]

Can we talk about how we’ve been BLESSED this week by our fic writers?!? Like I know my dash has been slow in general but that’s probably because people have been writing and reading up a storm. But omg, like every day there’s a new, 15k+ absolute GEM of a fic I’m waiting for with bated breath. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to get anything done but thems the breaks, I guess. 😂

ICYMI, check out these authors and their fics cuz good lord.

@precious-little-scoundrel Sarge and Lil Mama’s Wedding Night

@elvisabutler Spark

@whositmcwhatsit An Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

@thatbanditqueen No One Walks Out on Big Daddy

@crash-and-cure Wait For Me

Honestly, there are probably more because there are so many talented writers in this fandom and I’m just trying to keep up y’all!

[moonlightspencie]

‘cause look at your face!

Request linked here!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader (implied bisexual rights)

Warnings: implied cheating, drinking, smoking, very minor sexy references

Word Count: 1.6k

There he was.

The famed Dean Winchester.

Well, fame by hunter standards, anyways. Regardless, the guy had saved the world multiple times, and happened to be even more beautiful that anyone could capture with words.

Unfortunately for me, I had to pull my gaze away when he caught me staring. Though not before he shot me a smirk at my being caught out.

I looked towards the bartender, asking for another fifth of whiskey in my glass. She obliged with a smile and a wink. At least I could still keep my cool with her, cause I certainly was loosing it after seeing him.

It worsened significantly when he sat in the seat next to me.

I panicked, the fact that he smelled good on top of being a smoke-show was too much to handle. I decided to strike up conversation with the bartender again.

“How’d you end up in a place like this?” I asked, raising a brow.

She leaned in. “I could ask you the same. You’re a little too pretty to put up with all the folks in here considering you’re not getting paid.”

I chuckled. “Good point. Maybe you could help me get a job. If I’m gonna be here as much as I am, I may as well get some cash for it.”

“I’ll help with whatever you want, sugar,” she said with a wink.

Dean cleared his throat, raising a hand. She looked at him expectantly.

“Could I just grab whatever beer you’d recommend?” he asked, trying a wink at her.

She nodded, giving him an unamused hum. He leaned in a little closer to me after that.

“You’re doin’ better than me,” he said with a small smile.

I nodded, then saw a familiar face behind him. I attempted to strike up conversation with practically every other person in the bar except for him. Really, he should’ve taken it as a compliment. If he wasn’t so unbelievably hot, it would’ve been much easier to talk to him.

After a while, he seemed to have lost interest in talking to me anyways. Especially when I spent half an hour straight chatting it up with some grumpy old hunter who really had an affinity for non-haunted vintage items, and really loved to talk about it.

The second that conversation was over, I decided on a new course of action. I needed to forget about a certain cheating boyfriend for the night anyways. A smoke outside felt like it’d do just the trick.

I leaned against the building in the cool night air, pulling out my pack of cigarettes and lighting one up. I was a few puffs in when the door opened a few feet over, footsteps getting nearer.

“You know, smoking’s bad for you,” I heard a rumbling voice next to me say.

I glanced up and over, a light smile on my face.

“So is drinking. Didn’t stop you, huh?”

He smirked, nodding lightly. I held up the pack, resigned to the fact that I could no longer escape this male-modeling son of a bitch and his perfect face.

“Want one?”

He sighed. “I almost never do, but since you offered…”

He took one out, popping it in his mouth. I flicked my lighter, holding it up to the end of the cigarette until he puffed out a little cloud of smoke. I watched him for a moment, enthralled with how someone could look so pretty smoking. He glanced back at me after a few seconds.

“What?” he asked, voice suddenly lighter.

I shrugged, looking away. “Guess I’m a little surprised to meet you. I’ve heard stories, but never expected to bump into you or your brother.”

He chuckled humorlessly.

“Stories?”

“Mhm,” I nodded. “You can’t be surprised. Words gotten around in a lot of hunting communities about all y’all have done.”

He sighed, staying quiet. I chanced a look at him again to see him staring off into the parking lot.

“Did I strike a nerve?” I asked.

He shook his head, looking back at me with a partial smile.

“No, don’t worry about it. Just— Guess I don’t think much of it all.”

“Much of what? Saving the world?”

He puffed on the cigarette again, merely smirking at me as I found myself watching his lips as he did so.

“Seems you’re thinking something,” he said.

I looked away suddenly, bringing my own cigarette back my lips. I took a moment to collect myself.

“Not a damn thing,” I said at last, turning towards him. “Why don’t you get out of here. I’m sure your girlfriend’s looking for you.”

“Don’t have one.”

“Ah,” I nodded.

I almost wished he did. Out-of-bounds would be much easier to deal with than temptingly-single. Especially when I still (technically) had someone.

“What about you? Any boyfriend that’d be mad I’m out here with you?”

I shrugged. “He went out to some club tonight to do… I don’t even know what. I don’t think I want to know.”

I laughed at myself, a little bitterly. He simply stared with his brow set.

“Excuse me?”

I cleared my throat, dropping the butt of the now-gone cig into the ashtray atop the garbage can.

“He goes out a lot. Doesn’t usually come home until the next morning,” I said, letting out a soft breath. “Or until a few days later.”

“Why do you put up with that?” he asked, voice sharper now.

I raised my brows, not expecting the reaction.

“I don’t know. Security, I guess. We’ve been together a few years now…”

“You deserve better,” he said, eyes terrible and beautiful and sincere.

I groaned. “You suck.”

He furrowed his brow, taken aback.

“What?”

I didn’t know what to say with him looking at me like that. His gaze was intent. It felt like he was looking right into my soul. Everything about him was horribly picturesque, especially in the neon lights from the sign above us.

I shook my head, “I should probably go.”

“Why?”

“Why?” I mimicked, a small smile on my face. “What’s up with the twenty questions, anyway?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Sounds like avoidance.”

“Again: you suck.”

He put out his cigarette on the ash tray, then turned back to me, hands on his hips.

“Alright, pretty girl, let’s get you back inside. It’s cold out here,” he said, looking towards the door.

I fought a smile from showing up, and fought butterflies even harder.

‘Pretty girl’. He’s one to talk about being pretty.

“What if my boyfriend shows back up?”

He raised a brow. “You’re gonna dump him anyways.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of the sentence.

“Cause,” he shrugged. “Would you let me go home with you otherwise?”

I froze, my eyes widening. “I’m going home to my cats, actually.”

“Ah, I see,” he nodded, a borderline-shy smile on his face. “You can really just say no, you know?”

I hummed, giving an unsure shrug.

“I don’t really want to say ‘no’, is the problem.”

His smile morphed into a smirk again, hand brushing against my lower back to lead me back into the bar.

Rather than going back to the bar, he led me to a table in the dark. I followed along, letting him guide me with his hand still on my back.

“What are you up to?” I asked at last when we sat down.

He sat on the same side of the booth as me, an arm slung over the back of the seat. He smelled even better now that he was closer than ever.

“I’m gonna convince you to break up with him,” he stated simply.

“Why’s that? Why not just take me home?”

“Not into cheating.”

“Huh,” I nodded. “Who would’ve guessed? Dean Winchester has rules about revenge when it comes to fidelity?”

He rolled his eyes, somehow still looking sexy doing it.

“So, you just want to use me to get back at your boyfriend?”

I paused. “Actually, I don’t. That would just be an added bonus since he’d totally be pissed I moved on with someone like you.”

“Someone like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He brushed his hand against my shoulder, leaning in a little closer. I realized there was no use in pretending I wasn’t giving into him now.

“Someone absolutely gorgeous.”

His smirk faded a little, eyes looking into mine more now.

“You’re really too sweet to let some crap-bag walk all over you, you know?”

I watched him a moment longer, then readjusted myself in the seat. I pulled out my phone, typing out a quick message.

- we’re done. you can get your crap out of my apartment later this week :)

I hit send.

“Here, look,” I said, handing him the phone.

He read the message, nodding lightly as he did. He then turned it off, set it on the table, and had his lips on mine so fast my head was practically spinning. Those lips were softer than they looked, and finally having his hands on me felt better than I thought it would.

He rested one palm on my thigh, letting the other stay around my shoulders. His tongue tasted like lime salt and smoke. I ran one of my hands up his arm, nibbling at his bottom lip as he started pulling away. The gravity of making out with him in a crowded bar probably would’ve embarrassed me if it weren’t for the fact that he leaned in closer to whisper to me:

“Think I can meet your cats when I’m out of your room tomorrow morning?”

I smiled. “Oh, they’ll love you.”

—————

dean winchester taglist:

@deanwithscissors @hyunjaebaby @simp4olderm3n @king-of-milf-lovers @allonsy-yesiwill @xoxovienna @grapejuicestand @lyarr24

[charleslee-valentine]

TCM Ship Week @maskemasker

Day six prompt: Argument

Ship: Franknub (Franklin Hardesty x Nubbins Sawyer)

Word count: ~2,700

Warnings: Graphic cannibalism, threats of violence and of abuse, implied murder, ableism by way of ignorance, brief suicidal ideation, canon bullying (Kirk’s ableist rant about Franklin), Drayton Sawyer being a dehumanizing asshole.

——————

Franklin looks down at the plate of meat in front of him, the slightly too red sauce all around it. Ain’t no way is any of that goin’ anywhere near his mouth. He saw them butcherin’ jobs the big one was doin’ out in the kitchen. Don’t know who exactly ended up on his plate, but it certainly ain’t some cow.

“I ain’t eatin’ that.”

Doesn’t figure he needs to say why. And he don’t. That’s not what his captor, the twitchy one in green, questions him ‘bout.

“Why you wanna die for?”

So they hold knives to him, chase people down and slay ‘em like they ain’t nothin’, but a hunger strike is confusing to him.

Franklin can’t help but scoff, “Gonna happen either way, right? You either gonna kill me, or I’m gonna starve. Might as well starve.”

That just seems to make him more confused.

His face gets all scrunched up, and he whips his head around, like he’s lookin’ for someone to tell him what to say. Franklin realizes that’s exactly what he’s doin’ when his distressed expression is noticed by his brother, the old man, who waves him away immediately,

“Your mess, boy. You fix it.”

And he’s left to it, just the two of them at that grand table now.

Nubbins is his name, or at least that’s what he got called by the older one earlier today. Well Nubbins sinks down in defeat, shoulders slouched so far forward they’re resting against his knees. His hands fly up to his face, chewing on the skin around his nails, nervous about gettin’ left to his own devices.

“I-I ain’t ‘llowed to- to leave the table ‘til you eat.”

Now, he don’t take pride in bein’ rude, but it prob’ly don’t count if it’s towards someone like this. Franklin huffs in irritation, “Oh great. I get to put up with you for longer.”

Neither of ‘em meets the other’s eyes. Maybe different reasons for it, but they ain’t jovial, no matter how badly Nubbins wants them to be, “I’d eat- eat your supper for ya, b-but big brother would know. He al-always knows everythin’.”

As if. Franklin figures that’s good old fashioned fear talkin’. “He’s just some old man. Ain’t gonna know.”

Nubbins considers it, seems to roll that around in his head like a little pinball, back and forth ‘til he settles on not choosing sides. Changes the subject to make it seem like he never cared at all,

“M-Maybe I don’t wants second supper!”

“Congratulations then.” He can’t help but be blunt with him, though Franklin feels a little pinch of sympathy when Nubbins doesn’t get his sarcasm.

His twinkly eyes narrow, “What for?”

“You really don’t get out much, do ya?”

“Says you! I get out p-p-plenty! Y-You don’t even got legs! You ain’t g-goin’ nowhere never!”

Now, Franklin’s heard a lot of awful things about hisself, ‘bout the way he moves and looks and all, but that’s a new one. He takes it in stride with a questioning look but sees it as his chance to suggest, “Could go more places if y’all’d give me my wheels back.”

Again, Nubbins hunches down like a cat. “Can’t.”

Shit, that can’t be good.

“Why? What the hell did y’all do with it?” Franklin catches himself breathin’ hard. More scared now that somethin’ happened to his wheelchair and he’ll have to live without it, than the chance they’ll just kill him off.

Nubbins watches a bead of blood he bit free from his own fingertip roll, focusing on that ‘stead of the question he’s s’posed to be answerin’. Like if he ignores Franklin hard enough, he won’t have to answer his question. But then it bubbles outta him all at once, “Uh. B-Bubba tried t-to fold it, a-an’ it busted.”

“Jesus, how busted.”

“For forever busted.”

So they do psychological torture here too. Franklin would laugh if he wasn’t sick to his stomach. Not sure if he should sob ‘til he gets sick all over the place or yell ‘til his mouth is too full of blood to, he raises his voice in exasperation, “Oh y’all really should just kill me now. Fuck’s sake, you’d think even a cannibal would have some god damned decency not to break a man’s wheelchair!”

“I-I didn’t!” Nubbins insists right away, sounding just as angry that Franklin would direct his emotions his way.

“Nobody woulda if y’all hadn’t taken it!” He can’t help but point it out. Even if he don’t like the unpleasantness. Maybe Nubbins’ll dislike it enough to kill him and this’ll be over.

No dice.

“Sh-Shut up!” Nubbins claps his hands over his ears and shakes his head wildly, “Y-You ain’t supposed to be mean to me. You my only friend!”

Well. Now he feels even *more* bad for him. Might be a better idea to get Nubbins on his good side instead. Though, he can’t help but point out, more baffled than venomous anymore, “Friends don’t feed their friends people meat!”

Nubbins’ eyes burn with satisfaction ‘cause now he’s got somethin’ over Franklin, “Wh-What does you know about it? Y-Your friends was mean ‘n didn’t even like you!! Friends d-don’t talk like them do neither!! -Put him outta our m-misery.-“

Sounds right. But Franklin don’t want it to be. “Who the hell said that?”

He sure hopes it wasn’t Sally.

But no, Nubbins informs him it was, “Supper boy.”

Ah. Franklin couldn’t confirm it before, but guess that does it; that slab of meat on his plate was once Kirk Waisanen. Can’t‘ve been Jerry, saw him get shoved in the ice box. Honestly, Kirk prob’ly woulda been his first guess anyhow. Never was real good at hidin’ the hate he held in his faux-suede heart.

Pink in the face, he gets defensive anyhow, “Well who says he was talkin’ ‘bout me?”

“Total zero in the world. Someone oughta shoot him. Put him outta our misery... Franklin never was little.” Nubbins parrots an imitation perfectly, even that stutter of his goin’ away for his stuck up yuppie impression. Shit.

Franklin don’t want to lower his guard that easy, but between Nubbins and the gelatinous piece of meat on the fine china, only one was honest with him. He pushes,

“What if’n I don’t believe you?”

“I heared it all in the b-b-backyard. ‘Fore they go’d in the house and B-Bubba knocked his stupid head in with- with his hammer.” Says it like he’s all proud of himself too, Nubbins does.

“So what, you think you’re better to me than that?” Franklin challenges. Kinda would be nice.

Maybe he’s sick already, to think attention from a killer is any good. Hard not to after how his past few days on that trip went, long before any dracula hitchhikers got involved. The thought crosses Franklin’s mind now, ‘bout how right he was when he said that ‘bout Nubbins. Just bein’ all mean and bitchy ‘cause everyone else was bein’ that way to him. But the Dracula thing was part true, ‘cause ain’t no way this slab of human steak is cooked all the way through.

Speaking of, Nubbins reminds him cautiously, like he’s afraid of remembering responsibility, “I’m t-tryin’ to feed you your supper.”

It’s ‘cause he don’t wanna get in trouble. Franklin knows that, he knows what the old man’ll do if he finds out Nubbins is failin’ at fixin’ this mess.

His heart drops when he’s got to admit it’s also because-

“Cause even the cannibal don’t want me dead as much as my own friends did... Goddamnit.”

And for the first time in Lord only knows how long he’s been here, at least two nights, Franklin breaks. The wall of emotion just hits him like a tanker truck right in the chest. Now, Franklin’s been criticized a long time for bein’ loud, bein’ a brat, whatever they called it when he tried to be listened to, but even that wasn’t outright cryin’.

Well he does now. Franklin leans as back in his chair as the top of his spine will let him, tears runnin’ backwards to pool in the corners of his eyes and run into his hair stead of bein’ so obvious. But Nubbins watches every last thing like an owl with them big eyes o’ his. He caught the shimmer of grief the second it flooded Franklin’s weary soul. l

Trying, in the way he knows how, to be gentl, Nubbins offers a compromise of comfort,

“Uh. Y-You should eat your supper, a-an’ then we can go.”

“Go where? Go rot in the basement with the others?” Franklin’s voice crackles and burns with emotion, and now he’s startin’ to realize how precious those tears were. Dehydratin’ himself ‘cause he can’t control his emotions, how wonderful.

Quickly Nubbins dismisses that idea outright, as if doin’ it physically by waving both of his bony hands about. “Nuh-uh. I-If you starved I’d keep you f-for my-my arts. I wouldn’t eat ya.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

Despite his dryness, Nubbins doesn’t understand Franklin was being cold again.

All he hears is a thanks for the advice, and oh how he beams. Bigger than he thinks he’s ever seen anybody smile, even the church belles posin’ for their pageant photos didn’t try to pull on artificial joy that hard. That smile of Nubbins’ is as all real, crooked and wobbly and marred by rot that it is.

Franklin can’t keep up the energy to be harsh. Hell, with a broken wheelchair, he’s got nothin’ to lose by just bein’ nice. Not like he can run off.

He looks Nubbins straight in the eye to catch his attention that this is serious business for him to lower his guard, “Alright. Alright. If I do this, you promise me somethin’?”

Nubbins insists. “I’m good at promises.”

Somehow Franklin doubts a tricky thing like him truly can even keep a promise, but maybe he’ll try to. Who the knows and who the hell cares. A friend might be enough for the level of worn out Franklin is feelin’ right now.

One final plea to save his life, well, and to make a friend out of a shit situation, Franklin can hear the adrenaline makin’ his heart rate go up, “You spare me tonight, you best do it for the rest of time, alright? We ain’t just friends no more, we’re the best friends in the whole world.”

Might’ve been too much at once, ‘cause now Nubbins narrows his eyes and observes, “I don’t like l-liars. I p-p-peel’t the last pig done told me a lie.”

“Friends don’t lie to friends either, do they?” Franklin raises his eyebrows when he says that they’re friends. Emphasizing to Nubbins he’s still got a little bit of power left, even if he’s nicer now.

This friendship ain’t a favor. It ain’t *just* a for-tonight thing. A deal is a deal and Franklin thinks he’ll be just fine if he keeps this up. Hopes he will, anyhow.

Makes Nubbins giddy enough anyhow. Stands up outta his seat, pacing the length of table and doing a little hop each time he turns around, waving his arms. All that excited energy, over bein’ called somebody’s friend, it’s gotta go somewhere. At least this way Franklin knows he wasn’t playin’ some kinda trick, wantin’ to be his friend and all.

It’s too bad reality is sittin’ fetid in front of him an’ distractin’ him from the joy.

Franklin looks away from Nubbins and down at his plate instead. His head is full of doubt, thinkin’ about what Nubbins says Kirk said, only he knows it’s true cause he can just hear it in Kirk's voice. Always under the surface if helpin’, as if two little strips of plywood couldn’t be placed by anybody else who hated him a little less. The guy is so damn mean. Or, he was. ‘Cause he’s dead now.

Serves him right.

Franklin bitterly imagines his teeth tearing into the Kirk roast on his supper plate, pleased to find he doesn’t immediately feel sick this time. Must be thinkin’ loud, maybe making frustrated noise of his own. He looks up from the piece of meat and realizes Nubbins is now the opposite of before, stopped and just watching. Perched on a chair like an owl.

Franklin, alight with anxiety, decides to just do it. He closes his eyes tightly, and he takes a bite of the meat. Surprisingly, his first instinct isn’t to gag, his body not rejecting the most immoral meal he’d ever did. Nubbins is leaned close to watch every movement, and the second the meat is off the silverware, he gets that big smile again. Not understanding social convention, he notices the sweat on Franklin’s cheek from all the nerves and pokes it, like he’s petting him to soothe.

There’s a whole plate now he’s gotta push through, but one bite is at least progress. Nubbins thinks so too, ‘cause after a moment to let it sink in, he immediately goes running to tell Drayton that Franklin is on his best behavior. I’m his absence, Franklin looks down at the plate, knowin’ he oughta finish before that real cynical one shows up. Closing his eyes tightly, he eats every last bite of the human meat serving.

“C-Cook, you gotta let him g-go now, he was r-real good- real good an’ eated all ‘a that guy we give him!! Look!” Nubbins excitedly announces, dragging his brother by the arm.

He’s rightfully skeptical of a newcomer changing so fast, though it’s evident Franklin ain’t entirely typical. “Didn’t dump it on the floor did, ya?”

“No sir.”

“Didn’t make Nubbins eat it?”

Interesting he mentions it when Nubbins was so scared of gettin’ in trouble for exactly that. Franklin’s tone is a little dry, a little irritated, but he answers him, “No sir. He wouldn’t‘ve even if I tried.”

“Better not.” The old man turns and ignores Franklin’s existence completely now, to explain to Nubbins, “Alright, boy. For catchin’ that girl yesterday, you can keep the cripple.”

Oh. That confirms that then. Sally didn’t get away on that last burst of energy. And here, Franklin just ate a people steak. Somehow he didn’t feel sick before, but now he does. Ashamed and guilty and pissed off at himself. Though it’s possible that’s a lie. Could be tryin’ to get in his head. Maybe someday he’ll know.

Ignoring Franklin’s mini-crisis, Drayton talks over his heightened breathing to tell Nubbins, “Bubba’ll carry your pet upstairs now, but boy you best stay here now, take care of this new- new development. ‘Cause if I hear wind you left home ‘gain ‘n made Bubba take care of this’n, I’ll personally see to it he’s bled dry ‘n left out for the vultures.”

Nubbins doesn’t like the sound of that and tries to argue, “B-But-“

No matter, his brother clenches his fist and screams over him anyhow, “You argue with me an’ I’ll kill the damn thing now!”

Franklin is pissed. Beyond pissed, over bein’ talked about that way. No fair that he got to digest the last asshole who said awful things about him, but can’t shut up that evil old man. At least he can tell Nubbins is upset too, means he ain’t alone in this mess now.

Out of his mind or maybe just broken down, Franklin decides to be nice to Nubbins then. If Sally really is dead, he’s got nobody else to connect with left in the worl. Plus, if he’s gonna die here one way or another, at least if he’s kind he’ll know Nubbins saw him as a friend rather than as some meat or a cow or a *thing*.

Franklin speaks up for Nubbins a little, but so they won’t get in trouble, he declaring polite compliance, “I’m finished my supper. Nubbins was very helpful to tell me all about how y’all killed and cooked up Kirk. I gotta say, he really deserved it. Didn’t taste as rotten as his soul was though. Matter of fact, y’all got any more of that meat?”

Never seen somebody look so proud as the bright and giddy look on Nubbins’ face. Franklin won’t mind bein’ his friend, he thinks, if he keeps showin’ off that smile. This time, Franklin smiles back.

[berrypass-de-murdler]

3 - 9 This Murder is Mine

Had a mild epiphany last night while watching the Golden Globes

I imagine the Murdle fandom mostly consists of people who enjoy books and live-action TV/movies

So of course they'd be put off by the cartoon. I made it for the animation fandom!

My passionate love for cartoons and the way they tell stories can technically go back to since I was born lol, and I use inspiration from many beloved media in both the designs and storytelling of the Murdle cartoon - maybe it's because I put in more effort into making it a good standalone show instead of just a murdle adaptation

It's sad that I'm the only one who will ever be able to see it to its entirety in my head, while I try to include as much detail as possible there's only so much that can be conveyed through writing, as the visual version in my head also contains their face expressions, body language, and voices which I think help convey emotion further

Anyway enough of that dumbass rambling

Look more drafts!

I don't... love them but uhhh they'll do for now

Yes Sepia is related to Cobalt, they are brothers

I want to draw Horsegico but I can't draw horses goddammit

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

Graphite is cautious as she heads closer to a big ol’ mine. She gets the feeling that someone is following her, and jerks around. Giant Logico has nowhere to hide! Maybe his new size isn’t such a good thing? She runs over to him.

GRAPHITE: What is your problem?! LOGICO: I need to figure out what you’re up to.  GRAPHITE: I’m not… up to anything, just get lost. Or there will be consequences.

Logico pretends to canter away. But he’s not off her tail yet. After hearing some crashing and screaming, he rushes into the mine as fast as possible. Graphite is gone, and a disembodied leg lies on the ground - a murder definitely occurred. Obviously. But was it one of the people here, or was it Graphite before she got away?

Sheriff Sandy is back from the dead, and a tall man and a short man are also present.

SHORT MAN: [grabs Logico’s face] GOLD! I’M CALLED GOLD IN THESE HILLS! LOGICO: [angry neigh] DON’T TOUCH ME! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! GOLD: G- G- GOLD!!!! I’M CALLED GOLD, RIGHT HERE IN THESE HILLS!! LOGICO: Okay. Doesn’t mean you have to scream and GRAB ME!

He turns to the tall man instead, expecting an introduction.

TALL MAN: Hey there big guy, with your one big blue eye.

Logico assumes the man is colorblind, but then realizes that he is in an entire different body at the moment.

LOGICO: What’s your name, though. TALL MAN: I’ll give you a hint. I’m Union Man Mint. I fought the boss, and the boss won. Now I’m out of a job, and on the run.

Logico could just kill somebody at this point. A suspect who RHYMES? 

LOGICO: Please end me. SANDY: Twilight, look out!

Gold runs around at inhuman speeds, carrying a giant book on his head.

GOLD: Y’ALL GOTTA READ THIS BOOK, Y’ALL GOTTA READ THIS BOOK GOOD! IT’S TALKIN’ ABOUT THE GOLD, GOLD IN THESE HILLS! 

Logico’s legs shake. The dream can’t go on for much longer. Can it?!

LOGICO: I can’t do this… they’re too… horrible… SANDY: I’m sorry Twilight… I swear, you don’t gotta worry about Mint. He’s been my pal for as long as I can remember. MINT: I’m not here for gold - not today, at least. Just searching for mushrooms, to make up a feast.

The terrible rhymes swirl in Logico’s head, slowly drowned out by “GOLD IN THESE HILLS!!” He can barely keep himself together…

IRRATINO: Psst. LOGICO: Thank god you’re here… IRRATINO: You’re doin’ a good job, Logico. And I gotta feeling you’ll be outta here sooner than ya think. Just keep pushin’. LOGICO: If I do… will I wake up? And you’ll stop talking in that dumb voice…

Ghost Cowboy Irratino nods. It’s really weird for Logico to be able to look at him at eye level. But once again, he fades away.

Logico takes a deep breath, accidentally letting out a very equine snort. He knew there was something very wrong about that Mint fellow… and he’s entirely right!

MINT: I killed her, it’s true! But look at her form!

He leads Logico to the rest of the body - Graphite was the victim!

MINT: If you knew what I knew, she couldn’t stay warm. I did what you could never do - I took the criminal, and split her in two!

Logico is very disturbed, this is getting kind of hectic. At least none of it is real? Or was it? He has to go confront Ivory again, and runs to the courthouse. Little does he know that Mint is following behind!

The end!

Guess Graphite and Sky aren't getting together sob sob

Next up marker drawing of every book 2 character!

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

i have been Swamped with full-time freelance writing and a full-time job on top of it, and you guys have been so so so patient with me going months and months and months without updating anything, so i decided to give you little sneak-peeks at the next “diy steps to serenity” and “an unfinished memory” chapters to prove to you that i do actually have content, it’s just been sitting idle as i’ve been forced to write less-fun things for money :( 

i’m going to have a break in my work writing obligations here v v v soon, and updating these fics will be my vacation before the next obligations begin, and i am extremely hype 

snippets under the cut:

DIY Steps to Serenity Excerpt:

The next thing she registered were forms being thrust at her, demanding her signature, as if she had any capacity to read. She mumbled the answers to questions about her birthdate and address, and scribbled her name poorly where they told her to on a tablet. Then, all of a sudden, a nurse was wiping the crook of her elbow down with an alcohol swab, and she forced herself out of her fog of suffering.

"No no no, wait," she said, trying to angle away. 

"They gotta give you an IV to put you under for surgery, baby," Daryl said, his fingers brushing her hair back off her forehead. Carol shook her head vehemently.

"I can't," she insisted, eyes wide with fear. 

"I know but you don't got a choice, honey, it'll be okay. Everythin's okay." Evidently, he'd regained his mantra from somewhere, but Carol still wasn't convinced.

"Don't worry, you won't feel a thing. We're going to push some Dilaudid through to help control the pain while we wait to take you back for anesthesia," Leopard Print Scrubs said, thinking that Carol's fear was with the surgery, and not with the small syringe of clear liquid that she was preparing to push directly into her veins. She looked to Daryl helplessly, who simply shook his head.

"You got no choice," he repeated. Through the pain and fright and flood of confusion, Carol tried to think of an alternative. What did they used to do before pain medication? Maybe they could get her some whiskey and a big rock to bite down on. Not ideal, but she was so close to her twelve-month chip, which she didn't realize until that moment was something she actually gave a shit about.

"I'm just gonna flush your IV with some saline, and then we'll get that medicine in you and get you feeling better, you poor thing," Leopard Print Scrubs said. With her free hand, Carol reached for Daryl. He took it without hesitation.

"I won't be sober," she whispered to him through tears that she wasn't sure were new or had been falling since she'd arrived.

"But you'll be alive."

//

An Unfinished Memory Excerpt:

“Come now, don’t be like that,” Merle said. He came around and sat next to Daryl on the couch. He smelled like cigarettes and the cheap perfume of whichever girl he’d been cozying up with at the bar the night before. “If you need help lookin’ like a fine, upstandin’ citizen then I’ll do my damndest, but first you gotta be straight with me.”

“Straight with you about what?” Daryl didn’t look at his brother, opting instead to fiddle with his drawing, which was now just a crinkly ball in his hands. Pity, he thought, he’d liked that one well enough to have kept it, if Merle hadn’t ruined it. Whatever, he could always just draw it again.

“Carol. What’s goin’ on between the two of you? And don’t come at me with that ‘we’re just friends’ bullshit.”

“Well we are, so I dunno what the fuck else you want me to say.”

“The truth. You know everyone who goes through the Roadhouse all call her your girl, and she ain’t never denied it.”

“You know that was just so them guys would stop puttin’ moves on her when she was just doin’ her damn job.”

“Yeah, but that was months ago. You’d think by now the truth woulda come out, but if anythin’, with the way you two cozy up with each other when you’re together at the diner, y’all only reinforce it.”

“Good, then they’ll keep leavin’ her be.” Daryl pointedly did not address the “cozy up” comment.

“You know that ain’t my point.”

“Then what is it?” Daryl knew he was being purposefully obtuse, and he knew Merle knew it too, but he refused to give his brother the satisfaction of dignifying his taunts with a response.

But then Merle said, “She’d be good for you, you know? A girl like her. If you was with her I’d support it. Hell, I’d more than support it. I’d be over the damn moon.”

Daryl let his hands still, the staticky crumpling sound of the paper finally ceasing. He tossed the ball onto the table and leaned back on the uncomfortable couch, the structure of the thing hitting him at all kinds of unpleasant angles where the cushion was worn away. He stared headlong at the television in front of him. It wasn’t on, but the alternative was looking at his brother, and he didn’t think he could say what he was about to say and meet another person’s eye at the same time.

He said, so quietly he could hardly hear it himself, “Maybe I would be, too.”

[kindheart525]

Mountain Peak was the spitting image of generations of Apples before him as he lounged with his back against a tree, overlooking the fields of Sweet Apple Acres. He gripped a stalk of wheat pensively between his teeth, chewing on it just like he chewed on the many thoughts in his head right now.

He was just so confused. Grandpa was a good stallion; it wasn’t just him who thought so if his aunts’ stories were any indication. That doubt had been cleared up, but it was replaced with a new one: why didn’t his Mom seem to see that? Why had she been so harsh lately?

Whatever was going on in her mind was driving a rift between mother and son, and the colt felt helpless in doing anything about it. Everything he tried so far led back to square one.

“Mounty?”

A familiar southern twang called out to him, just in time for him to spot the unmistakable Stetson hat of his Ma.

“There you are! I’ve been lookin’ everywhere! Ya can’t just hop off like a wild jackrabbit without lettin’ anypony know.”

Applejack scolded him lightly, but it was clear that she was more concerned about him than anything. It was refreshing to not be reprimanded about how much work he was missing for once.

“I know, Ma. I’m just thinkin’.”

“Wilbur’s a good tree for doin’ that, though I got a soft spot for Harvey mahself. He’s older an’ more sturdy. But this young’un tree ain’t half bad, ya made a good pick.”

AJ chuckled to herself as she sat down next to him, attempting to lighten the mood with a compliment. But her son didn’t seem very receptive to it.

“You’ve been lookin’ gloomier than a worm without an apple these days. ‘Specially since you got yer cutie mark, and that sure ain’t s’posed ta be a sad time. Did somethin’ happen?”

Mounty really didn’t want to dig it up again and make himself feel worse, but he couldn’t resist when it came to his Ma. She could be stubborn as all heck too but she was more understanding most of the time. Plus, she loved both him and his mom very much, and didn’t really know his Grandpa that well, so maybe she could be a neutral party.

So he responded with a deep sigh.

“Well, you heard what I got mah cutie mark for. Buildin’ a fancy contraption fer the rock farm, I worked and worked fer days an’ everything. It was s’posed ta help, an’ make our work more efficient an’ such, but Ma seemed ta hate it.”

He frowned deeply.

“Said I was disrespectin’ Grandpa’s memory and the whole family before him. She took the whole darn thing apart an’ now I’m not allowed ta use any of the tools unless she’s watchin’.”

“Really now? She did all that?”

Applejack was genuinely surprised to hear this, as all she’d heard was some grumbling from her wife about how their son was messing with the power tools. Little other detail was given.

“Yes! Now I’m not even allowed ta do what I got mah cutie mark for!”

Mounty cried out.

“She’s makin’ us all do things the hard way, like technology is evil or somethin’, and sayin’ it’s what Grandpa would want. But mah aunties said he wouldn’ta minded, I just don’t know how ta make her see that!”

The colt was getting awfully worked up and AJ did her best to comfort him, rubbing his back and quietly hoping for Wilbur to give him clarity. But as his Ma, it was her job to do that herself.

So she pondered for a bit, plucking a straw from the ground for herself to chew on as she wracked her brain for anything that would help.

“Well, technology ain’t evil but it can do a lot of no-good hooey in the wrong hooves. Years back, before any of y’all came around, a couple of stallions came ta town with this fancy cider contraption that darn near drove us outta business. And their cider ain’t even good!”

She scrunched up her muzzle in disgust, before realizing how that anecdote might come off the wrong way. So she elaborated:

“I got every bit of faith that yer nothin’ like them Flim Flam brothers, I’ve seen how much ya love workin’ the fields in earnest. But yer Mom’s from a more old-fashioned upbringin’ so she might not understand that, she might think anything that’s different from what she knows is out ta destroy her way of livin’.”

“But it’s not! I’m not!”

Mounty protested.

“I don’t wanna change anythin’ our family does, I just wanna try doin’ it differently. Maybe it won’t even work all the time but Mom won’t even let me try!”

AJ could tell this wasn’t making him feel any better, and she didn’t want to go unintentionally making excuses for her wife if she really was up to no good. And of course Mounty was a true Apple, he wasn’t lying.

So she put down her hat between the two, deciding to be honest herself.

“I won’t lie, it ain’t easy breakin’ outta old habits. You shoulda seen how long it took me just ta do a few simple chores when I was ‘round Summer’s age. Darn near an hour just for one.”

“Really?”

Mounty was amazed to hear this from his own Ma.

“Ain’t so efficient, is it? That’s the word ya use?”

Both of them chuckled together.

“I don’t know why I bothered fer so long. It was the way mah family always did it but things were changin’, we didn’t need ta do all those extra steps anymore. Maybe I was tryin’ ta honor tradition, respect how mah own Mama and Papa did it.”

She picked up her hat and held it to her chest reflectively.

“I lost mah folks when I was just a young’un, it’s been so long even yer Auntie Apple Bloom don’t remember ‘em. Yer Mom just now lost one of hers, after a whole life havin’ him around. All this talk about his traditions has gotta be her way of workin’ through stuff.”

Then she put her hat back on with resolve.

“But if I could pull mah stubborn head out of the dirt an’ get with the times, so can she.”

A smile returned to Mounty’s face as he started to feel comforted by his Ma’s words. It was nice to see somepony else had been through the same things, held the same attitudes, and actually learned for the better. It gave him some hope, but he still needed answers.

“But what can I do ta convince her?”

“You don’t need ta do a single thing. I’ll talk ta her first thing, before she can run off an’ do more chores.”

They both got a giggle out of this.

“Mama’s got it taken care of. Fer now, why don’t ya get us a couple apples fer the walk?”

Before Mounty could respond, AJ hoisted him up on her back, prompting a fit of laughter from him.

“Ma! You don’t need ta lift me up!”

“What, ya think I can’t?”

AJ smirked playfully.

“I found Brackish out past curfew an’ carried him all the way home, clear across Ponyville.”

“Can’t say I’m too surprised. But ya know I can still fly!”

The colt pointed out, but it wasn’t much of a complaint at all judging by the huge grin on his face. He tossed a few apples down and let his Ma catch them in her hat.

“I know, but yer still mah baby whether ya like it or not!”

She let him off her back and ruffled his mane like he wasn’t getting closer to her height with every day.

“Maaa! Stop!”

He fake-protested.

“Maybe one of these days you’ll come up with some fancy machine that lets the rest of us pick apples without havin’ ta buck them.”

Applejack was encouraging his talent in all earnest, and he greatly appreciated hearing that coming from one of his parents. But he was feeling mischievous as he said with a cheeky smile,

“I sure will, I got this great idea. It’s called a ladder.”

“Consarnit, you know what I mean!”

His Ma nudged him playfully and he took off, flying ahead and teasing her as she ran after him. Both of them were having a wonderful time, bonding as a mother and son should. 

For a moment, Mounty could forget all about the struggles he had been dealing with, knowing somepony was on his side and sticking up for him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Previous: Party Ponies Next: Aluminum and Phosphorus

Applejack’s cutie mark by MLPCreativeLab

[knightskeeper]

Dreams of Freedom

Authors note: This is part of a backstory for a side character in the book I'm working on. This piece was inspired by "The Lost Dreamer" by Lizz Huerta. Enjoy!

The harmonic melody of the field hands singing their hearts out filled the area surrounding the fields. Their songs were abruptly cut short with the sudden ringing of the overseer’s bell, indicating the end of the day. Teak trudged through the muddy fields of the Rumpvine Plantation, even though he no longer had to actively work in the harvesting grounds. The job of sorting the grape vines and hauling the bins they were placed in came with its own challenges, Teaks’ worn paws sunk into the soft earth with each heavy step he took. Hanging his head, the weight of the day's labor pressed down on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the life he led as a half-blood in servitude. Around him, the other half-bloods moved with weary determination, their fur matted with sweat, water, grape juice and dirt under the setting scorching sun.

  “Long day of hurling them barrels has you dragging your feet?” A sudden voice spoke.

  Halting his walk back to his quarters, he looked up from the ground, ears perked. Teaks eyes fell upon his friend Jargen, a young dog like Half-Blood like himself; his fur looked scraggly and matted, with sweat and mud no doubt, and his ears. Although perked up, had a slight droop to them, Jargen looked tired and worn but that never stopped him when it came to checking up on him. Teak couldn’t help a slow tail wag.

  “Maybe if y’all weren’t so good at picking them grapes, there wouldn’t be so many barrels to haul.” Teak joked, a small smile cracking on his face.

  Jargen let out a chuckle, it was uplifting moments like these that got the two of them through the long days, sun scorching at their backs as the overseers or pattyrollers, as some of the other half-bloods called them, would watch them work the field and enforced the master’s law.

  “It’s not like I chose to be this good at pickin’ grapes” Jargen said, while rubbing the back of his scruff. “Say, would you mind if I joined you back to your place? I got somethin’ important to ask ya”

  “I don’t see why not, lets get movin’.”

  Walkin side by side the two made their way, leaving the fields behind them. The slave quarters, unlike the fields, were placed on the left front side of the plantation. Close enough for master Zether to keep an eye on them but hidden enough out of sight for his guests not to look at the ghastly things. It also gave the Half-bloods some privacy as well.

  Just about halfway through the grounds, Teak glanced towards the main plantation building, a grand white house with supporting pillars and deck all around that stood as a stark contrast to the run-down housing where he and his fellow half-bloods were relegated to live. The disparity between the opulence enjoyed by their master, Zether, and the squalor endured by the workers was a bitter pill to swallow. The sight made Teak feel an inner turmoil within himself stir, he only dreamt of being able to experience such things. Hearing a low growl, Teak turned to look at Jargen next to him, He too was looking at the Masters home. He had a face of irritation, eyes narrowed with his nose wrinkled slightly, as if he was about to bare his teeth. Teak put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “Hey friend, you doin’, ok?” He asked.  

  “Why can’t we have that, Teak?” Jargen questioned. Looking at his friend, “We work hard enough round here to deserve somethin’!” He barked, fidgeting with his hands.

  “Shhh!” Teak shushed, looking around him to make sure none of the overseers were around.

  “Don’t be speakin’ like that! What if one of the pattyrollers hears ya?”

  “So, what if they’s hear? I ain’t aimin’ to be nobody’s slave forever!” Jargen argued, balling his fists, and looking down at the patchy grass.

  Jargen made a point, Teak came from five generations of Half-bloods that were slaves here, when does the cycle end? His friends’ words made that turmoil stir up inside of him, he felt loyal, grateful even to Master Zether. The master gave him a less taxing job, better food, warmer blankets and much more, yet he too yearned for the luxuries the master had. Better yet, he yearned to live his life as he wanted to, not to be bound here forever, but that was a dream he pushed down long ago.

  “Listen, I know you got favor with the master—” Jargen stopped before grabbing teak and pulling him into some brush closer to the slaves’ quarters and out of sight from both the masters house, and any other nosey Half-bloods. “—I was thinkin’, what if we took a break for it? Get away from all this.” Jargen said, making an open palmed gesture to the plantation.

  Teak felt a lump in his throat, this was serious and just speaking of escape was worth a lashing. He could feel Jargen eyeing him, waiting for a response, but this is all he’s ever known. He’s only ever heard whispers from the masters’ guests about how the outside world was, and as grand as it sounded. There were parts of it that also made him grateful to be under the master’s protection. Teak was grateful that Jargen had even asked him, most other half-bloods would’ve just left without a word, and upon being caught, would’ve disappeared all the same.

  “J-Jargen, you’re my closest friend, but I must admit…“ Swallowing another lump, Teak knew this was going to break his friend’s heart. “T-This is just…too much to ask.”

  As if on cue, Jargen looked away from him, flattening his ears against his head and sucking his teeth while his tail stiffened.

  “Alright.” He scoffed “I get it, you like bein’ masters favorite.”

  “No that’s not what—”

“You don’t gotta explain yourself to me. I just figured you might wanna come along, bein’ my friend and all.”

  Jargen took a few steps back, putting space between himself and Teak before completely turning around to walk back to his own quarters. Teak felt a mix of sadness and guilt, he drooped his ears and hugged his legs with his tail. Am I doing the right thing? Should I stay, or should I join my friend? Teak couldn’t decide what he wanted, he felt he had an obligation to his master yet, another side of him screamed to join his friend, to be free.

  “ Jargen Wait!” He called out to his friend.

  It was the only thing he could think of doing, he didn’t want his only close friend to leave. Jargen only took a few steps, before stopping to look at Teak, drooped ears and hardened eyes met him, but Teak’s known him long enough to see through his façade. Both the hurt and disappointment were there, just hiding.

  “If you change your mind, come find me tomorrow in the fields, I’m set on leavin’, but I ain’t goin’ quietly.”

  With that final say Jargen turned his back to Teak, giving a backhanded wave before leaving his friend to walk back to his quarters himself. The sun was just about fully dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the barren landscape, Teak made his way back to the ramshackle housing he called home. The wooden walls groaned with the evening breeze, and the roofing let out low whistles from where the wind came in. It was a crude existence, one that offered little respite from the harsh realities of life on the plantation.

Teak collapsed onto his makeshift bed, his muscles throbbing with exhaustion. Despite the weariness that his tired body felt, he couldn’t get himself to sleep. His mind buzzed with thoughts of the world beyond the wooded fence that surrounded the plantation, Jargens' words also echoed tormentingly in his mind. He just reminded himself that such thoughts were dangerous, in this place thoughts like those were swiftly crushed beneath the iron fist of their master. Although he couldn’t help but return to his friends' very words, he was drawn to the ideal of being free, but at what cost would it come to him if they were caught? If Jargen was caught?

  Tomorrow, he’ll try to talk his friend out of it, whether it was his own fear of all the “what ifs” or what he knows to be true here on the plantation. He would be a terrible friend to just let Jargen get himself beaten or worse killed!

  Tomorrow is going to be one hell of a day.

[roetrolls]

Forked Tongue

The greenblood is lounging in his chair when you enter the interrogation room, evidently unfazed by his current predicament. As you set your papers down, he jolts as if to lunge, jerking at the chains that lock his wrists to the table.

You flinch despite yourself, earning a low, rattling laugh from the troll in front of you.

“Mr. Dipale.” You do your best to sound stern as you take your seat, smoothing your skirt as if to unruffle yourself. “You are here because you were caught committing a serious—“

“I ain’t doin’ this talk with a damn muzzle on.”

He grinds his jaw once, drawing your attention to the cage strapped against his face.

“I’m afraid I can’t help with that.“

“You got hands, don’tcha?” The man says slowly, annoyance more potent than the venom in his fangs. You shift under the scrutiny of his sharp yellow eye, fussing with your papers.

“Perhaps you should have thought twice before attempting to bite a fleet lieutenant,” you counter, hoping you sound more confident than you feel.

“Ugly ol’ bastard had it coming,” he spits. When you don’t respond, he sets his elbows on the table and leans forward, brandishing a bright, confident grin. “Pretty thing like you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.”

You clear your throat and drop your gaze, trying desperately to suppress the flush that creeps into your cheeks. His ensuing chuckles are accompanied by the faint clinking of metal as he attempts to lash his tail, which, like his hands, has been cuffed and chained in place.

“Mr. Dipale,” you try again, frustrated, “you were apprehended trying to hijack a fleet shipping vessel. It is in your best interest to take this interview seriously.”

“Oh, I am serious, madam, dead serious,” he drawls, the mocking tone of his voice suggesting anything but. “Ain’t never been more serious in my life.”

“The only reason you are still sitting in this room is because you claimed that—“

“You don’t gotta tell me what I said, sweetheart.”

“You claimed,” you repeat forcefully, “that you were willing to work for the Empire—“

“With the Empire.”

“—on the condition that your charges be dropped. I am here to perform a psychological evaluation that will determine if you are, in fact, willing and able to cooperate with us.” You are clearly growing flustered, and it is costing you any authority you might have had when you entered this room.

The man grunts, leaning back in his chair. He raises one leg to rest his foot on the seat, twisting his lips together to jostle the muzzle once more. “Still want this off.��

“I’m sure you do.”

“I ain’t gonna bitecha.”

“No, not with a muzzle on.”

He grumbles. “Least let my tail out? Ain’t no reason to lock that up ‘cept cruelty.” 

You shake your head. “We are all well aware of the kind of skills you possess, Mr. Dipale. For my own safety, I am considering your entire body a potential weapon.”

That seems to amuse him, another deep laugh radiating from his chest. “Well shoot, missy, ain’t you a flatterer?” He pulls against his bindings and surveys you carefully,  lips curled into a smug grin.

You take a deep inhale to steel yourself before trying once more to reign him in. “Your evaluation is off to a poor start, if you were wondering.”

“Sure’s shit is, sweetheart. You ain’t too good at this.” Once again, you feel your face become awash with color. He continues with a slight purr in his voice. “What was it you just said, that y’all know well and good what sorta skills I’ve got? Might as well’ve told me I got the job.”

“Your skills are meaningless if–”

“If’n you cain’t control me, ‘s that it?” He cocks his head at you. The chains clink behind him. “Listen, doll. You go runnin’ to your officers talkin’ bout I showed you what for, only thing they’re gonna hear is’at you cain’t do your damned job.”

The embarrassed flush accumulating in your cheeks is dealt with swiftly, as all at once your face drains of color.

“Now I think it’s in both our best interests if you run along n’ tell ‘em just what they wanna hear. Sweet thing like you ain’t got no reason to play by their rules. I can tell you ain’t been here long, sugar, so I’ll tell you now: Sweet’s the fastest way to get made bitter.”

You stare at him a moment, unsure how to respond.

“And would’ja lookit that?" He clicks his tongue against the side of his mouth and winks. "Now I’m cooperatin’.”

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

The Ultimate (Fake) Boyfriend.

Hey all!! So!! I don't know how many people read my last thingy for that top-five ask game, but either way, while answering one I was reminded of an old WIP I had started writing last August, but faced horribly writer's block for, and is now sadly stuck in WIP hell.

Well, I have 3 full chapters written, as well as most of the fourth chapter. And while I don't want to post it to AO3 when I don't know if I'll ever finish it, I realized that I COULD post it here! So, that's what I'm gonna do. I'm going to post the first chapter now, and I'll try to post the next chapter tomorrow, so on until the fourth, half finished chapter. I don't know if I'll be able to keep this schedule, considering I'm sick and will prolly be working tomorrow regardless (I want to, I enjoy my job and am feeling better), but I'll try.

Please let me know if you like this story! I cannot guarantee this will ever be finished, but if people do like this story, it might help inspire me to write more. Again, no promises, but... maybe? Who knows.

Anyway, here is a quickly written summary. It's a bit weak and I'd definitely need to refine it should I post this to AO3, but it should give a basic idea of this fic:

Taka tells his first ever lie to his family. Unbeknownst to him, this simple lie has large (to him) consequences, and in order to calm his kyoudai down, Mondo offers to help him out. Unfortunately, this leads to them spending a week together at Taka’s maternal family reunion. This wouldn’t be so bad, except there’s one catch: they have to pretend to be in a loving, committed relationship to prevent Taka’s meddling Great Aunt from setting Taka up with her neighbor’s son. Will their friendship survive a week of pretending to date? Or will everything fall apart? Mondo has no clue, but as long as he’s with Taka, he’s willing to face anything life sends his way.

If it’s not clear from that, this is a fake dating AU, ha. 

Warning: This whole thing is about 15k words long, though a lot of that is me giving you a run down of the OC’s I created to be Taka’s family. And believe me, there are a LOT. That was part of what caused me writer’s block; there were just too many characters to keep track of, but if I eliminated some of them, some crucial plot points later on wouldn’t work. So... yeah. Oof. 

I hope y’all enjoy! I’m exhausted right now, so I’m not gonna write much more here. Let me know if you’re confused by anything! I can either fix it or explain it if it’s not clear. ^-^

 1 The Ultimate (Fake) Boyfriend. 

 Mondo looks up in surprise when he hears the doorbell to his room begin to ring incessantly, a confused frown rising on his lips. The textbook he’d been trying (and /failing/) to read lies forgotten in his lap as he checks the time, wondering who the fuck wants his attention so bad at fucking /midnight/, for Christ’s sake. Maybe if he ignores it, it will go away…?

 When the ringing (predictably) doesn’t stop, Mondo sighs heavily and stands, annoyance filling him as he lumbers over to the door. It’s a good thing he’s always been a night owl and hadn’t even been attempting sleep, or else he’d be even more pissed. As it stands, he’s still kind of pissed at the incessant ringing. Seriously, who the fuck rings the doorbell that many fucking times?!

 “Alright, alright, I’m fuckin’ comin’!” he growls as he approaches the door, loud enough to penetrate the thick wood. He sadly has only a second to appreciate the abrupt silence before he reaches the door, a scowl deep on his face as he opens it up angrily, glaring at whoever is on the other side. Who he can’t even see, given how fucking dark it is in the hallway, shit. “The fuck d’ya want, huh?!”

 Mondo doesn’t even have time for his eyes to adjust to the darkness outside his room when he is being shoved aside, the person outside his room suddenly /inside his room, what the fuck/-?!

 “Hey! What the goddamn fuck d’ya think yer doin’-?!” Mondo begins to exclaim, only to be abruptly stopped when the person turns to face him, hands imperiously planted on thin hips, a burning glare now harsh on his person. A burning glare he suddenly realizes he /recognizes/, shit. 

 “Language, kyoudai! We’ve talked about this!” his unexpected visitor exclaims loudly, looking very agitated. More agitated than usual, Mondo thinks privately, closing his door before they wake any of their classmates. While the dorms are thankfully soundproof, he knows for a fact that some of his dumbass classmates forget to fully close their doors at night. It’s a good thing they don’t have to worry about robbers or serial killers at Hope’s Peak, Jesus Christ…

 “Y’know,” Mondo begins, voice far calmer and less annoyed than it had been as his eyes take in the familiar form before him, “I don’t think that shit applies when someone barges inta yer room unannounced at fuckin’ midnight, kyoudai. Think I’m fuckin’ ‘entitled’ ta curse when that shit happens. The fuck ya even doin’ up this late, huh, Taka? Ain’t ya usu’ly asleep by now? ‘Cuz a’ yer schedule or somethin’?” 

 Mondo watches with critical eyes as Taka— his absolute best friend in this entire goddamn world, though they’re opposites in almost every regard— jolts in surprise, the imperious look on his face dropping off as shock replaces it. He frowns when Taka looks down at his watch, the teen’s eyes widening to the size of saucers as he notices the time. Ah… shit. Taka’s in one of /those/ kinda moods again. The kind where he doesn’t even notice the time, he’s so invested in whatever bullshit he’s working on. Great. Just fucking peachy. 

 With a sigh, Mondo heads over to his desk and grabs one of the energy drinks he left open earlier, knowing that he sure as hell ain’t getting any sleep now. Not when Taka’s like this. Like fuck would he leave his friend in such a state on his own, and it often takes hours to calm Taka down when he gets like this. Not that Mondo minds. He’s fairly certain he’d do absolutely anything for this fussy bastard…

 “Ah! Mondo, I am so sorry, I- I hadn’t noticed the time! I hope I didn’t wake you! I will let you get back to sleep and will come back at a more reasonable time of day, I assure you-“

 “Taka,” Mondo interrupts blandly, taking a sip of the vile liquid he regrettably has gotten used to over the years, “sit the fuck down an’ tell me what’s got ya in such a fuckin’ ‘tizzy’. Just don’t call me out on my goddamn /language/, shit. Too late ta bother with that shit.” 

 He can see Taka visibly hesitate at the order, his sense of propriety and responsibility warring with whatever caused him to get into this state in the first place. After a moment of debate, Taka hesitantly nods, striding to his bed and taking a stiff seat. Stifling a smile at the typical behavior, Mondo takes a much more leisurely and sprawling seat beside his friend, an eyebrow raised when Taka gives him a wide-eyed look. 

 “So? The fuck’s yer problem this time?” Mondo asks after a moment of silence passes, Taka staying uncharacteristically quiet. Usually when this sort of thing happens, the hall monitor is babbling away about whatever bullshit is bugging him that day, no filter at all, but today Taka is just staring at him, worrying his lip as he fucking /fidgets/. That, out of all of this, worries Mondo the most. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Taka /fidget/ before. The uptight hall monitor usually hates such ‘unscrupulous’ behavior, whatever that shit means. So, to see him doing it is very, very concerning. 

 “A-ah… p-perhaps I shouldn’t have bothered you about this after all, kyoudai… i-it truly isn’t anything important, it really can wait until morning! I- I should be going and allow you to sleep, it’s really nothing, I’m not even sure why I came over here, h-ha… d-do not worry about me, kyoudai, I’ll just be going and-“

 Mondo reaches out and grabs Taka wrist before the teen can fully stand, putting on his best ‘you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me’ face when he sees Taka look back down at him nervously. 

 “Taka. I’ve already drunk halfa’ this fuckin’ energy drink. Like hell am I gettin’ ta sleep now. So, sit yer pasty ass back down an’ tell me what the fuck is happenin’ ‘fore I fuckin’ punch ya, goddamn. Got it?” 

 Taka shuffles in place, his back bent awkwardly as he accommodates for Mondo’s firm grip on his wrist. His face is full of anxiety, which guts Mondo, though he tries to hide it. Christ, but he hates seeing his kyoudai like this… he’s tried his hardest this past year to get Taka to loosen up and stop being so obsessive about being perfect all the time, but even after all his effort, the hall monitor still suffers from such intense anxiety at times. Mondo hates it, but he has no idea how to get Taka to realize it’s okay to not try to be so perfect all the fucking time. That he’s allowed to fuck up and make mistakes. That no one expects him to be his absolute best all the time. That /Mondo/ doesn’t expect that. That Mondo doesn’t /want/ that. Not at all. 

 Before Mondo can say anything unbearably sappy and ruin his tough guy persona more than he already has, he hears Taka sigh, the teen sitting back down, though he has an intensely uncomfortable look on his face. Shit… the fuck is wrong with Taka to make him look so troubled…?

 “… you’d never hit me, kyoudai,” Taka mutters as he shifts on the bed, eyes staring absently at Mondo’s hand. Which— he realizes with a jolt— is still wrapped tightly around Taka’s wrist. Flushing, Mondo takes his hand back, raising it to rub his neck awkwardly like he always does when uncomfortable or uncertain about shit. 

 His eyes get pulled back to Taka when he hears the teen sigh, heart tugging at the intensely troubled look he finds on his kyoudai’s face. He’s seen plenty of troubled looks on Taka’s face over the past year, but this… this is among the worst he’s ever seen it. Taka looks five seconds away from bursting into tears— which honestly isn’t unusual with the hall monitor, as in tune as he is with his emotions, but… shit. Something about this time seems worse somehow. 

 It’s after another ten seconds have passed in uncomfortable silence— Mondo not sure what to say to make this shit better— that Taka finally begins to speak, looking up at him with tired eyes. 

 “I… I really don’t know where to even begin, kyoudai… I don’t even know why I came over. I had decided earlier today that I would handle this on my own, that I wouldn’t bother you with my stupidity. After all, this entire mess is my own fault and thus I should be the one to clean it up, not you! But… I- I do not know. I was just thinking about you and suddenly I found myself outside your door, not even realizing the time. You… you always know how to fix tricky situations, kyoudai… I envy that about you…” 

 Mondo decides then and there that he /despises/ the sad look Taka has on his face, suddenly determined to do whatever it takes to make it go away. Filled with this onslaught of determination, Mondo puts a steady hand on Taka’s shoulder, ignoring the startled jump the teen gives at the touch. 

 “Taka. I don’t care what the fuck it is ya did. Hell, ya coulda’ fuckin’ killed a dude fer all I care. I will always, fuckin’ /always/ be here ta help ya out. Now, where’s the goddamn body an’ where d’ya wanna hide it, huh?” 

 Like Mondo had expected, the sad looks get replaced by a stern one, the very familiar glare strangely comforting to see. As is the small smile that his best friend can’t fight, despite his clear best efforts to be serious. Ha. Take that, Taka’s anxiety. 

 “Mondo Owada, that is not funny! Abetting a murderer is a serious crime! Besides! If I were ever to do such a heinous act, for whatever inconceivable reason, I assure you that I would immediately turn myself over to the authorities without question! I would decidedly not attempt to hide it! Hiding such a criminal act is almost as bad as committing it, I assure you!” 

 Mondo can’t help it. He laughs loudly, grateful the rooms are soundproof so he won’t have to deal with a crabby Togami bitching at him in the morning. Seeing Taka’s lips twitch upward— though the hall monitor stubbornly tries to fight it— Mondo can’t help how he leans forward and pokes Taka’s cheek cheekily. Even the peeved scowl can’t stop the buoyancy filling his heart. Not when he can still see the smile trying to fight its way onto Taka’s lips. 

 “Oh yeah? If it ain’t funny, why the fuck ya smilin’?” Mondo taunts, snickering as Taka’s scowl intensifies. He doesn’t even fight it when Taka’s hand slaps his away in annoyance, too amused to mind the mild sting. ‘Sides. Ain’t like he’s not faced much worse. 

 “I-! That is entirely beside the point, Mondo! It’s still a crime!” Taka blusters, cheeks pink. But hey, at least that anxiety is no longer on his face. Thank /fuck/.

 Like the hall monitor heard his thoughts and is determined to prove him wrong, Mondo watches in dismay as the lightness that had momentarily entered his kyoudai’s expression fades, the anxiety returning with a vengeance. It hurts so fucking bad to see it and Mondo only just barely manages to suppress the desire to wrap his arms around Taka and take away each and every worry the teen has ever had. Barely. 

 Sighing unhappily, Taka looks away from Mondo, his hands fiddling with the uniform he’s still wearing. Even at fucking midnight. If Mondo didn’t know better, he’d think Taka even /sleeps/ in the goddamn thing. But no. Taka sleeps in the goddamn /nude/. A fact he definitely didn’t learn the hard way, thank you very much… 

 “Anyway. M-Mondo. You… er. You know that my mother’s side of the family is having a family gathering shortly after break begins, yes?” Taka states suddenly, pulling Mondo away from a /very/ inappropriate memory, shit. Blinking, Mondo tries to recall what the fuck Taka is talking about, only remembering as Taka gets an exasperated look on his face, his eyes lighting up as he remembers. 

 “Oh, yeah! That annual family reunion bullshit ya’ve been dreadin’ fer weeks, right?” Mondo questions, not thinking about his words. He winces at Taka’s unimpressed look, smiling sheepishly to show his apology at his thoughtless statement. Luckily, Taka decides not to lecture him (for once…) and just sighs, shaking his head in a way Mondo likes to think is fond. 

 “I’m not /dreading/ it, per se, just… well. There are some very… /interesting/ people on my mother’s side of the family and the gathering is often uncomfortable for me, that’s all,” Taka explains, before pausing again. With another sigh (at least the fifth or sixth he’s heard that night, which is honestly hella concerning considering how Taka rarely allows himself to show such ‘weakness,’ or whatever), Taka looks at the floor, hands wringing anxiously. “Well, anyway… y-you also know that I, um… that I /came out/ to my family earlier this year, yes?” 

 Mondo blinks at the question, feeling a simmering anger rise inside him. Not at Taka, fuck no! But just… at that entire fucking situation. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the pained and terrified look Taka got on his face after he’d told Mondo that he was gay a few days before winter break last year, tears streaming down his face as he insisted that he understood if Mondo hated and wanted to ‘punish’ him now. He’d held Taka the entire night, whispering softly that he’d never hate him, that he didn’t fucking care who the teen was and wasn’t attracted to, and that he would always, /always/ view Taka as his absolute best friend in this entire goddamn world, no matter what. He’d been massively embarrassed by it in the morning, remembering how soft and sappy he’d gotten, but he had never fully regretted it. Not with how light and happy Taka had looked for days after, like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. No… he definitely didn’t regret that at all. 

 Telling his family hadn’t gone quite as well, Taka had informed him softly when they arrived back at school in January, his da initially resistant to the idea. Thankfully, over time his da began to accept Taka fully, his ma wearing the man down. Taka had obviously forgiven the man immediately when he apologized, as much of a martyr as his kyoudai is. Mondo, on the other hand, doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive the man for making Taka think— for even one second— that there was something wrong with him for liking dudes over chicks. He never tells Taka that, though, as he knows it’s a sore subject with his kyoudai. 

 Still… if whatever’s got Taka in such a nervous state is related to him coming out… 

 “Shit. One a’ yer relatives ain’t makin’ a fuss over that shit, are they?! ‘Cuz if they are… shit! Tell me their names an’ addresses an’ I’ll make sure they don’t ever fuckin’ bother ya again, kyoudai! That’s a fuckin’ promise!” Mondo bursts out, his simmering anger flaring brightly inside of him at the thought of Taka getting harassed about his sexuality. He /hates/ shit like that, doubly so when it’s directed towards Taka. Mondo legit would have broken Togami’s nose for his derisive comment after Taka came out to the class a few weeks into the winter quarter, if Taka hadn’t regretfully stopped him before he could. He’d gotten an hour-long lecture about how violence solves nothing, and judging by the stern look that rises on Taka’s face, he has a feeling he’s about to have a similar lecture now… 

 “That is highly unnecessary, Mondo! As I’ve told you countless times, violence solves nothing! Besides, this is my family we are speaking of and I will not allow you to harm any of them!” Taka exclaims forcefully, his glare as intense as ever. Taka quickly calms himself— before Mondo can reply that he doesn’t fucking care if they’re family, not if they’re hurting his kyoudai— his shoulders loosening as he lets out a soft sigh. /Again/. “But no, Mondo. That… that’s not the problem. In fact, that’s kind of the /opposite/ of my problem!” 

 At Mondo’s baffled look, Taka sighs again (fuck, this must be so fucking bad… Mondo can feel his own anxiety spike at the thought), shaking his head ruefully. He even lets out a humorless chuckle, eyes holding a sort of wry humor inside them. 

 “Yes, I understand how baffling that sounds, but it’s true. I… have told you about my great aunt Hana, yes? How she and my mother are so close that she is pretty much an honorary grandmother to me?” Taka pauses, looking at him intently. At Mondo’s slow nod, Taka continues. “Well… out of my entire extended family, she is the one who accepted my orientation the most, according to mother. Apparently she has had dalliances with women in her past, though she eventually fell in love with my great uncle Akiro and settled down with him. She even identifies as bisexual now, after I helped teach her about the LGBTQIA+ community over the break!” 

 Mondo has to stifle his dopey grin at Taka’s prideful expression, the teen puffing his chest out with his pride. The look quickly fades back into anxiety, but Mondo still privately relishes having seen the look even for a second. 

 “Anyway… as you know, back before I came out, she was always very concerned about me, asking mother if I had found a girlfriend yet, if I’d begun thinking about dating and things like that. Many family members had, in fact, especially at our family gathering. When I came out, I had hoped that such a thing would stop and I wouldn’t have to deal with that again this year, naively thinking that now that they knew the truth, they’d stop bothering me over such nonsense. And yet…” 

 Taka trails off, biting his lip so harshly Mondo is afraid he’s going to split it. Not thinking, Mondo lifts his hand and gently pulls the abused flesh free, something he’s always done when Taka bites his lip too harshly. He doesn’t notice Taka’s flush, though, and just hums thoughtfully, nodding in sympathy. 

 “Ah, yer family’s still buggin’ ya over that shit then, huh? Shit, glad I don’t gotta worry ‘bout that kinda thing. Dai ain’t stupid enough ta ask ‘bout that shit, thank fuck, an’ he’s the only family I got. So, the problem is that yer afraid that they’re gonna harass ya over it, then? Fuck, man. Ya know my advice. A little punch ta the face clears that shit right up, promise ya that…”

 Mondo grins at the glare Taka gives him, not intimidated in the slightest. He doesn’t even flinch when Taka lightly slaps his chest, his grin growing wider at his kyoudai’s obvious annoyance. He knows it’s not real. Well… no, it is real, Taka’s so fucking emotive he could never fake anything, but he knows it’s not bad. 

 “Mondo! What did I just say about threatening violence to my family?!” Taka glares, forcing another loud bark of laughter from Mondo. Shaking his head— a small smile unsuccessfully masked on his face— Taka quickly continues. “/Anyway/. No, that’s not my problem. If it were, I wouldn’t be so worried! I’ve handled my family’s invasiveness before, after all, and I am positive I could handle it again, even if it makes me highly uncomfortable! So… /no/, that isn’t my problem.”

 Taka pauses again, his squirming getting worse by the second. It’s Mondo’s turn to let out a loud sigh as the silence mounts, gulping down the last of his energy drink and tossing the can to the side carelessly. Ignoring Taka’s indignant glare at the litter, Mondo rolls his eyes and leans back on his now free hands, eyebrow raised lazily as he gives his kyoudai a Look. He doesn’t notice how his thumb lightly brushes Taka’s hip, nor does he notice the bright flush rising on Taka’s face, not with how frustrated he is with Taka’s long winded storytelling. Fuck, he adores his kyoudai, he truly does, but the dude is absolutely shit at getting to the goddamn point sometimes…

 “Okay. Fine, got that. Not the fuckin’ ‘invasiveness.’ Then what the fuck /is/ yer problem, man? ‘Cuz I gotta say, much as I love talkin’ ta ya, it’s kinda late as shit, an’ I would like ta know what the problem is so we can fuckin’ /problem solve/, or whatever ya call it. Promise I won’t get mad at ya or anythin’, okay? Just… get ta the goddamn point…” 

 Taka’s glare intensifies, an indignant scoff escaping the usually poised hall monitor. Mondo forces down the rush of pleasure at the thought that he’s the only one to see Taka so laid back (which is barely laid back at all by any normal standards, but is entirely /indecent/ by Taka’s), instead focusing on listening as Taka starts talking again, his voice clipped and annoyed. Ha. Adorable. 

 “I was gettin’ there, kyoudai! You must learn to be patient!” Taka snaps, pout bright on his lips. Which is even more adorable, shit… “As I was saying! I… I… well. I don’t /like/ the invasive questions. I never have, and at first I thought it was because I am… y-you know… /gay/. And I just disliked that my family kept asking when I was going to get a /girl/friend. However…”

 Taka pauses again, but continues fast enough that Mondo doesn’t have to prompt him again. Thank fuck. 

 “However. Mother informed me yesterday that Great Aunt Hana had something she wished to speak with me about urgently and that I should call her as soon as I was able. Considering I had my final Public Morals Committee meeting of the quarter yesterday, not to mention that intensive study session with all of our classmates, I didn’t have time to call then. I vowed to call today, however, which I did as soon as I was able! Which was unfortunately just after dinner… aha.” 

 Mondo fights hard to not roll his eyes at Taka’s rambling, knowing that it’s just his kyoudai’s way of working through his nerves. Still… it can be annoying as fuck sometimes… he really fucking hopes Taka gets to the point soon. While he’s wide awake thanks to the energy drink, he has never been the kinda guy to just sit around and talk about shit. He’s more an action driven, hands on kinda guy, ya know? More punching, less talking. It’s a miracle he and Taka get along so well, honestly… he zones out a bit as Taka rambles about how sorry he’d been that he couldn’t call sooner, that he’d apologized ‘profusely’ when his aunt had answered the phone, how she’d forgiven him immediately, yadda yadda… he only tunes back into Taka’s rambling when it seems he’s finally getting to his goddamn point. 

 “-anyway, after a couple minutes of talking about school, she… well. She began talking to me about these neighbors of hers that recently moved in after the Mori family sold their rice fields last Autumn. At first, I didn’t see anything odd about the conversation, she’s always been the type to ramble about any random nonsense, not caring at all about how busy my schedule is. It’s why I rarely call her if I can help it, despite how rude it makes me,” Taka claims, hypocrite that he is. Ha. “But… after a few more minutes of this, she began to talk about the /son/ of her neighbors. Saying that he’s about my age, a year or so older and in his first year of university, and that he’s also going to be on break during that week. And then she… s-she mentioned that this /son/ happened to be, well… gay. And single.” 

 /That/ got Mondo’s attention. Sitting up straighter, Mondo looks intently at Taka, not caring that the scrutiny makes the hall monitor squirm. Just… just where the fuck is Taka going with this shit, that’s what he’d like to know… 

 “S-she then… well. She then began saying how much of a /catch/ he is, saying that he is very handsome and fit, and that he practices kendo routinely on his family’s side of the rice fields. Often shirtless. And since our family gathering always takes place at Great Aunt Hana’s farm, since she has the most space for all of us to stay, she… she said that she’s invited him and his family to join our family gathering! And that she wants to introduce us to see if we would ‘hit it off’ and possibly start dating!” 

 Taka yells the last part of his diatribe, his face red as a tomato and his eyes firmly planted on the ground. Mondo barely notices this, though, not with how tight his chest suddenly feels. Because… shit, Taka… Taka has a fucking date?! What the goddamn shit?! 

 “Wait, hold the fuck on! Ya got a fuckin’ /date/?! An’ ya didn’t fuckin’ /tell me/?! What the fuck, man?!” 

 Mondo can’t describe the feeling that bubbles through his body then, a tension overcoming him that he absolutely cannot decipher. Before he has any hope to try, Taka looks back up and glares bitterly at him, his teeth bared in his anger. 

 “No! I absolutely do /not/ have a date, no matter what my great aunt says! I did not agree to this meeting and I do not condone it in the slightest! You know that I am focusing on my studies at the moment, kyoudai, and that I do not have the time to deal with a /relationship/, let alone a long distance one! I may be gay, but that doesn’t mean I will jump at the chance to date just anyone! I thought you knew this, kyoudai, but I guess I was wrong!” 

 Mondo winces when he sees the hurt look on Taka’s face, frustrated tears rising in his scarlet eyes, making Mondo feel like shit. Ah, dammit… he hadn’t meant to hurt Taka… he’d just been so fucking shocked, honest. Not to mention… whatever that weird as fuck emotion that just flowed through him was… shit… 

 But he can’t have his kyoudai upset at him. He fucking /refuses/. Slowly, Mondo lifts his hands in surrender, a sheepish smile on his face. 

 “No, shit, I… I knew that, man. Just fuckin’ surprised me, s’all. But I get why yer so tense over this shit… damn, but that fuckin’ sucks. What did ya tell her, that ya weren’t gonna go through with it? Or did ya say nothin’ an’ decide ta power through it like the goddamn martyr ya are, despite how uncomfortable that shit makes ya? Shit… that’s it, ain’t it? Goddamnit, kyoudai…” 

 Taka’s glare is deeper now than before, the teen scoffing and crossing his arms angrily. Oops…

 “I will have you know that I did no such thing! I… I /did/ tell her that I was not interested, as politely as I could! I told her what I tell everyone; that I’m focused on school and that I don’t want to bother with dating someone, especially a stranger. But she… she wouldn’t let it go! She has always been a highly stubborn woman, something that clearly runs in our family, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer! But I… I didn’t want to do it, kyoudai! I’ve never been good at meeting new people, let alone potential /love interests/, and I’ve been so stressed over our final year at Hope’s Peak, and our upcoming midterm exams, and I just… I- I just… I didn’t want to have to deal with this! Not now, not when everything is so stressful! I- I just… I didn’t know what to do, kyoudai! I… I- I…”

 Mondo’s heart breaks when he sees the tears begin to stream down Taka’s face, the teen shaking with the intensity. The stifled sobs kill him more, and he doesn’t have to think before his arms are wrapping around his kyoudai, pulling him as close as humanly possible, his heart aching as Taka clings desperately to him. Goddamnit… he /hates/ seeing Taka like this… he’s always been an emotional person, crying over anything, good or bad. But even still, Mondo hates his tears… especially when they’re as forceful and painful as these… he’d do fucking anything to take his pain away… fucking anything…

 “Hey… hey, Kiyo, it’s okay,” Mondo mumbles softly, saying the name he reserves for the rare moments of softness between the two of them. It always makes Mondo uncomfortable to be so soft with anyone, even Taka, but like he said. He’d do anything to make him feel better… “It ain’t that bad, I promise! Yer amazin’ ta be around an’ any dude would be lucky ta have a catch like you. If this dude don’t immediately fall fer ya, then he’s a goddamn idiot who would never deserve someone as incredible as you. An’ anyway, just ‘cuz the two a’ ya meet don’t mean shit’s gotta happen. Ya can just say ya didn’t hit it off an’ be done with it. Okay, Kiyo? I promise, man. It’s gonna be okay. I /promise/.” 

 Taka sobs harder at his words, which distresses Mondo greatly. He stops talking then and focuses on soothing his emotional kyoudai, rocking him softly like Daiya used to do with him when he was little and needed to be calmed. He shushes Taka softly whenever his breath hitches, rubbing his back as soothingly as he can, his insides squirming at the weakness he’s showing, but he forces it down. It ain’t the fucking time to be worried about his goddamn /reputation/. Not when he’s got his precious as fuck kyoudai to soothe… 

 Finally, after a couple of minutes Taka begins to settle, his body mostly still against Mondo’s save for a couple of sniffles here and there. It makes Mondo’s insides settle to feel Taka relax like this, and while part of him hates himself for it, he can’t help how he kind of adores moments like these. The moments after Taka finishes crying and they’re just embracing each other tenderly like this. Yeah, they hug sometimes in other circumstances, but those are always quick, manly hugs. The kind that end with back slaps and wide grins. This… they don’t really do shit like this often. Holding one another, just listening to the other breathe. It’s… nice. So fucking nice. And he doesn’t even have to shove that thought away, not when he’s so busy ensuring that his kyoudai is okay…

 “Feelin’ better kyoudai?” he mutters after another minute, looking down at the form pressed tightly to his chest. His heart squeezes when he sees Taka look up at him, his red eyes so much more intense with how watery they are. Mondo’s breath stutters at the sight. Fuck… but damn if Taka isn’t beautiful like this… i-in a manly way, of course! Heh… 

 “I… somewhat, kyoudai… but I- I still haven’t said what my problem is…” Taka mumbles, sniffling once. Mondo just blinks at the response, shifting to hold Taka more comfortably against him. Shit… there’s more…? 

 Sighing softly yet again, Taka fucking /snuggles/ into his chest, humming as he draws random shapes on Mondo’s pecs, something he often does in times like these. It had been awkward the first time he’d done it, Taka embarrassed and stammering apologies, explaining he’d not meant to do that, and Mondo flushing bright red at the automatic reaction his body had to the stimuli. But after several minutes of awkward spluttering, Mondo had managed to convince Taka he hadn’t minded, not at all, which Taka took as fucking permission to do it /every goddamn time/ now. Which Mondo doesn’t mind, honest! It just… it sure makes his insides squirm when the teen does it… 

 “I really did not want to have to have that meeting, kyoudai. I do not even really know why I felt so adverse to the offer, but I… I /couldn’t/ do it. I just… couldn’t. A-and you… y-you’ve been teaching me to stand up for myself when I truly don’t want to go through with something, and I guess your training has made a bigger impact in me than I realized. Because… b-because, once I realized that my great aunt wasn’t going to leave me alone about this, I… I decided to /lie/,” Taka confesses, sniffing miserably and burying his face back in Mondo’s chest. Mondo barely notices it, not with how shocked he feels. Taka… Taka fucking /lied/…??? Holy /shit/! Taka /never/ does that shit! As much as the uncharacteristic action concerns him, he also feels a rush of /pride/ flood through him. After all, he’s been trying to get Taka to loosen up on his morals just a little for months now. Lying to his family… now /that’s/ fucking progress!

 Obviously Taka doesn’t feel that way, and Mondo makes sure to listen intently when the teen finally extracts his face from his chest and continues, misery billowing out of him in waves. Fuck… but man, does Mondo hate seeing Taka like this… 

 “I- I don’t even know why I did it, kyoudai. I /hate/ lying, it always makes me feel horrible and it just makes things worse every time. And this time was definitely no exception, but I… I- I do not know. I couldn’t help it. I /really/ didn’t want to meet this man, Mondo. I- I don’t even know why I felt this so vehemently. But I… I did. I didn’t want to meet him, so I lied to my family about it. I… I feel so ashamed! Someone should hit me, I’m so awful!” 

 Mondo’s heart clenches again at the sadly common response from his kyoudai, Taka crying again as he buries his face back into his chest. He always says shit like that when he’s truly distressed about something ‘awful’ he did, like dropping his textbooks on the ground, or making a slightly insensitive comment. Mondo hates it, more so after he learned that Taka does it since his old classmates and teachers used to ‘punish’ him every time he messed up in school, but he knows commenting on it would only distress Taka more. Instead, he just shushes the teen again, fucking /crooning/ down at him like a fucking chick. But whatever. If it helps Taka…

 “Hey, man, it’s okay. It’s okay. Y’ain’t gotta beat yerself up over this. Lyin’ ain’t always a bad thing, don’t worry ‘bout it. Sounds ta me like ya didn’t really have a choice, yer aunt not leavin’ ya alone. Y’ain’t a bad person fer lyin’, kyoudai. Y’ain’t a bad person at all.” 

 Mondo listens as Taka sniffles again, the teen’s eyes peeking up at him from his position on his chest. And the look he gives breaks Mondo’s heart as much as it enlivens him. Fuck… but Taka really is so goddamn pretty… again, in a manly way! Duh!! 

 “I… I do not believe that, kyoudai, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Taka mumbles softly, trying for a small smile. It breaks after a second, but Mondo is so happy to see it at all that he can’t help how he beams at the teen in his arms. Taka takes a deep breath, then, and continues once more. “Okay… I… I should probably tell you what lie I told, as that is the crux of my problems, I know… but I… p-please don’t judge me too harshly, kyoudai… I couldn’t bear it if you hated me for this…” 

 Mondo can’t help the noise of distress he lets out, his arms tightening instinctively around Taka. Because… /fuck/! As if he could ever, /ever/ hate Taka… he tells the teen as much, fervent and forceful, his heart clenching at Taka’s sad smile. 

 “I… thank you, kyoudai. You truly are too kind to me,” Taka sniffles, pulling back enough to look Mondo in the eyes as he tells whatever fucking lie he is so concerned about. It makes Mondo a little regretful to no longer be holding Taka so close, though his hands are still grasping his sides loosely. He quickly forces that thought away. Not the fucking time… “I… w-well, you see. After we argued about this for a little bit, she… she asked me if I had a real reason to not want to meet this man and become acquainted to him. She apparently had already spoken to him about this idea of hers, even showing him my picture, and claimed that he was very interested to get to know me, and that I should at least give him the benefit of the doubt. But I didn’t want to, I really didn’t, so I… when she asked me if I had a real reason to not want to meet with him, I told her that I… that I… I…”

 Taka pauses again, biting his lip harshly again, and Mondo is five seconds away from shaking Taka to force him to spit it out, so fucking curious about what lie Taka told that’s so fucking bad. Knowing Taka it’s prolly something super fucking simple, like just not liking dudes who have names with an odd number of syllables in it, but it’s killing him not to know! In fact, he’s so focused on how much he wants to know this stupid fucking lie, that he almost misses it when Taka finally utters it, his eyes blinking at what he just heard. Because… no. No, Taka /didn’t/ just fucking say that shit, he… he couldn’t have said that he… he…

 “I- I told her that I already have a boyfriend. And that we have been dating for months now.” 

 ~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~ 

 The room is silent for a split second as Mondo contemplates what Taka had just said, the words echoing in his mind over and over, all rational thought fleeing as the words assault him. /I already have a boyfriend. Have a boyfriend. Boyfriend… boyfriend…/ 

 Taka… Taka fucking…

 Taka has a fucking /boyfriend/…?! What the goddamn fuck?!

 “Y-you what?!” Mondo screeches, his voice higher pitched than he’s ever heard it go before, but he doesn’t fucking care. He watches through wide eyes as Taka flinches back from him, the hall monitor looking /freaked the fuck out/, but Mondo doesn’t focus on that, because… because… “You have a goddamn boyfriend?! What the fuck, why didn’t I know about this shit?! Who is it, do I fucking know him?! Fuck, I’m gonna beat the shit outta him, he ain’t fucking good enough fer you, I don’t care who the fuck he is, I-!” 

 “Mondo! What on /earth/ has gotten into you?!” Taka exclaims loudly, cutting off Mondo’s diatribe. Mondo blinks down at his kyoudai, taking in the absolute /anger/ he sees there, Taka glaring like he was born to do it. It’s not an uncommon sight, Taka is almost as explosive as he is when it comes to his emotions, but it still makes Mondo gulp uneasily. Shit… but that look doesn’t bode well for him… “I literally just told you that I /lied/ about it! You know full well I don’t have a boyfriend! I’ve never even kissed anyone, let alone gone on a date! I just… I didn’t want to meet with this stranger! And when my great aunt asked me why I couldn’t, it was the first thing I thought of! Y-you know that you’re the first person I’d tell if I ever managed to achieve a date, let alone if I started going out with anyone! I- I can’t believe that you would ever even /think/ that I’d not tell you something as important as that! You’re my kyoudai! My best friend! Of /course/ I’d tell you!” 

 Mondo feels his heart lurch in his chest at the fervent cry, Taka pouting harshly as he glares at him. He… shit, yeah, Taka did tell him he lied, didn’t he…? They literally just had a whole ass goddamn conversation about that, /shit/. He… he doesn’t know why he forgot about that, but… but something about hearing Taka say /‘I have a boyfriend/‘ just… he doesn’t know. Shorted his brain the fuck out. And he… he doesn’t even know why. 

 It’s not like he never thought about the possibility, right? When they first became friends, Mondo immediately knew how amazing a catch his kyoudai was, and he’d made sure to tell him all the time that he’d get a girlfriend soon, no problem, wanting Taka to see how amazing he truly was. He’d stopped doing that only when Taka had glared at him and said that he wasn’t interested in dating and that he’d appreciate Mondo not bothering him about it, which he’d immediately respected. He’d never stopped thinking it, though, especially not whenever Taka did something adorable. Which would happen every single goddamn day. 

 And that’s not changed at all over the past year, right? The only difference now is that Mondo thinks that— if he desired it— Taka will find himself a /boyfriend/ easily, not a girlfriend. So, he… he knows that the option is there. He’s always known that quite intimately. He’s even privately thought how he’d be so fucking happy for his kyoudai when he finally finds someone who loves him more than anything, like Taka deserves. Fuck, he’s even fucking planned his goddamn /best man/ speech on multiple occasions, even though he knows that shit wouldn’t happen for goddamn /years/, especially since that shit is stupidly not legal in Japan. Yet. 

 So, he… shit. He doesn’t get what his fucking problem was at hearing the words, but something about them had just… felt /wrong/. Taka saying he has a boyfriend. That they’ve been dating for /months/. The thought that Taka could have someone so important, so monumental to him… someone /other than Mondo/ that Taka relies on, confides in, spends time alone with… and for Mondo to /not even know/, it… it hurt, he guesses. So fucking bad. And that hurt had shorted out his brain, causing him to be a fucking dumbass like he always is. 

 But now, because of his stupidity, /Taka/ is hurt, thinking that Mondo would doubt their closeness, their friendship-! Shit, he’s gotta fucking fix this, fast! 

 “Shit, no, Taka, that ain’t fuckin’ it!” Mondo blurts loudly, cheeks flushing as Taka reels back in surprise. Lowering his voice consciously, he sheepishly rubs his neck, shrugging sharply. “Shit. I mean… I didn’t think ya’d keep somethin’ like that from me, man. I know ya wouldn’t. I just… I dunno. Ya know I ain’t ever been the smartest dude. Punch first, ask questions later, that sorta shit. When I heard ya say ya had a boyfriend, I just… fuckin’ spaced. But I know ya’d tell me that shit, kyoudai. I know ya would. I would never fuckin’ doubt ya, Kiyo. Not in a million goddamn years.” 

 He stares deeply into Taka’s eyes as he says this, ignoring the discomfort at the intimacy as he tries to get Taka to see his sincerity. After a moment of this, he watches as Taka looks away with a bright flush on his cheeks, a somewhat dazed look rising on his face. It… shit, it looks so fucking nice… Taka always looks so fucking nice… in a manly way. Always in a manly way… 

 “I… y-yes, kyoudai, I do know this… I am sorry for doubting you! I suppose it truly is late… and I am very distressed by all of this… believe it or not, there’s actually /more/… I’m sure you can see why this all is bothering me so much, though I am still sorry for bothering you with my nonsense again…” 

 Mondo shakes his head sharply, reaching out and grabbing one of Taka’s hands, holding it tightly as he gives the hall monitor a small but very sincere smile. 

 “Hey, none a’ that shit, okay? Ya know I don’t fuckin’ mind doin’ this shit, kyoudai. I’m always here when ya need me, day or night. S’long as it makes ya feel even slightly better, I don’t mind a goddamn bit. Now, what’s the rest a’ this bullshit, huh? Let’s fuckin’ hear it, man. Then we can work t’wards fixin’ this shit.” 

 The small, shaky smile Taka gets on his lips causes Mondo’s heart to stop beating for a second, his breath hitching at the goddamn /beauty/ of it. He quickly shoves that feeling aside as Taka nods slowly, the smile fading as the sad, nervous look returns. Fuck, he hates that look…

 “Yes… yes, you are right. Thank you, kyoudai. Anyway… after I told my great aunt the lie, she… she grew very, er… /excited/. It would take me too long to repeat all she said, but the gist of it is that she was very, very happy to hear that. And then… /then/ the cause of my problem became evident. Because… ah, kyoudai! She- she told me, in no uncertain terms, that I /must/ bring my boyfriend with me to meet the family! And she refused to accept my claim that my ‘boyfriend’ was busy that week and couldn’t make it! She just said that if he truly loved me, then he’d make the time to come visit my family, even if only for a day, though she made it clear she expects him to come for the whole week! And she said that if he doesn’t come, then he’s not worth my time and that I should meet with her neighbor’s son anyway to be with a nice, respectable boy! 

 “So, surely you- you understand my dilemma here! I lied about having a boyfriend, but now I’m excepted to suddenly have a boyfriend to bring home for the break! And if I don’t, my great aunt will think that this ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t actually love me and isn’t good enough for me, thus making me meet with this stranger anyway, making this entire lie pointless! I… I don’t know what to do, kyoudai! Do I… do I confess the lie?! Do I keep pretending and just let my great aunt think I’m dating a degenerate who doesn’t care about me at all?! Do I forgo all my morals completely and fake illness to miss the gathering and not have to deal with this situation entirely?! I don’t know, kyoudai! I have no idea! I… I…” 

 Taka starts sobbing again, then, flinging himself back into Mondo’s arms unceremoniously. Mondo can’t help the small grunt he gives at the impact, but his arms are wrapped tight around his kyoudai before he can even fully register the feel of the body pressing tight to his. His mind is absolutely not there, though, as it’s too busy trying to figure this shit out. Mondo may be a fucking dumbass, but over the years of leading his gang, he likes to think he’s gotten good at problem solving. Even if most of his solutions are ‘punch the problem until it goes away,’ he’s gotta admit that it’s usually fucking effective. 

 Not that that shit’ll help this time, of course. Sure, maybe punching Taka’s great aunt would make her see that Taka doesn’t wanna meet with this fucking douchebag neighbor of hers, but that solution opens a whole host of other problems. Not to mention the fact that she’s not even a chick; she’s a goddamn /lady/. And punching a lady is the worst crime a dude can commit. So… punching is outta the question. Regrettably. 

 But… shit. What else can they do? Clearly, they either gotta convince Taka’s aunt that he’s in a loving relationship without the dude showing up to the family reunion bullshit, or else they gotta find a way to convince her that Taka just isn’t interested in dating at the moment so she won’t make him meet the stranger. Considering how Taka mentioned she is being unreasonably stubborn about this, he highly doubts that they’ll be able to do the latter, and the former will require a lot of time and planning to pull off. Time that they don’t have, since Taka is set to leave for home as soon as exams end on Friday, which is only a little over five days away. And given how frantic Taka always has been over exams, he doubts his kyoudai will allow them any free time to actually plan shit. Hm…

 It’s as he’s rubbing Taka’s back— absently saying soothing words that he doesn’t register at all— that the thought enters his head. And it’s a stupid ass thought, right? Mondo gets those all the time, he’s so fucking stupid it’s not funny. Yeah, Taka is always telling him that he’s not as big of a dumbass as he thinks and that he’s actually really fucking smart, but he knows his kyoudai is just trying to be kind. Because judging by the absolute brainlessness of this thought, it’s clear that Mondo is just a dumbass through and through, destined to be a dumbass until the day he inevitably dies. As such, he immediately pushes the thought away and goes back to thinking about actually /good/ solutions, not fucking stupid as shit ones. 

 And yet… as the minutes stretch on and Taka just sniffles pathetically against his chest, Mondo can’t help but keep on cycling back to the idea. And it’s so stupid. Right? Absolutely brainless and moronic and impossible, there’s no way in a million years it would work! And yet… the more he thinks about it, the more /sense/ it makes. Because… shit. It would solve all of Taka’s problems nicely, wouldn’t it…? Taka wouldn’t have to worry about his great aunt discovering his lie, thus allowing Taka to not have to meet with this fucking stranger, both things that Taka wants more than anything right now. And… and Mondo /has/ always said that he’d do /anything/ for his kyoudai… absolutely… anything…

 It’s about five minutes later that Taka finally pulls back from his chest, rubbing his eyes (__adorably__), looking at him with a wide, watery stare. It breaks Mondo’s heart to see it, and for some reason it strengthens the stupid ass thought by a tenfold. And it’s stupid, so /fucking/ stupid, but when he sees Taka open his mouth, a pained grimace on his lips, he…

 He can’t quite help himself…

 “S-so… there, kyoudai. That’s my problem. I told you that it was stupid, and that I should be able to handle it on my own! It’s entirely my fault, after all! If I just hadn’t lied, none of this would be happening! Yes, I’d still have to meet with that darned stranger, but maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad! Like you said, just because we meet doesn’t mean anything has to happen! But no. No, I decided to /lie/, and now I’m paying the price! I… I’ll just have to tell Great Aunt Hana the truth and face the consequences of my actions… oh, mother and father will be so ashamed of me! What kind of moral compass /lies/ like that?! I- I’m so sorry for bothering you with my nonsense, kyoudai, you don’t deserve to deal with this, you’re always so kind to me, I don’t deserve your kindness, I truly don’t-“ 

 “Hey,” Mondo growls lightly, giving Taka a stern glare, “shut the fuck up a second, okay? Shit, an’ stop with that goddamn bullshit already. Ya know I don’t mind doin’ this shit with ya, no matter what time a’ the day, or how fuckin’ stupid it is. Yer my bro, an’ there ain’t shit that I wouldn’t do fer ya, got it? Don’t care if it’s stupid as shit, I’ll always have yer back, just like I know ya’ll always have mine. We’re fuckin’ tight as shit, bro! Ain’t nothin’ gonna break our fuckin’ bond!” 

 Mondo’s heart soars when he sees the tiny smile light up Taka’s face, his kyoudai looking so fucking /relieved/ at his words. Shit. Like he’d ever feel anything different. Mondo plows on when he sees Taka open his mouth, though, not wanting to hear his gratitude, not when he knows it’s time to get this stupid ass idea of his out there. A bubble of nerves enters his chest then, which is honestly the worst thing that could happen… he’s always been so fucking bad when it comes to handling his nerves…

 “Anyway!” Mondo shouts, the nerves making his voice far louder than he intends. Taka flinches slightly, which makes the nerves worse, which just… is really fucking unfortunate, shit… “I had an idea ‘bout how ta fix yer problems, kyoudai! It’s fuckin’ stupid as shit, I’m a complete an’ total dunbass, but the more I think ‘bout it, the more I think it may work! I understand if ya say no, though, so don’t worry kyoudai, it’s fine, I don’t mind, IT’S COMPLETELY COOL IF YA HATE IT AN’ DON’T WANNA DO IT, NO PROBLEM MAN, UH-“ 

 Mondo’s explosion of noise is stopped abruptly when he feels a warm hand grasp his cheek firmly, his breath expelled out of him entirely when he sees Taka look at him with wide eyes, concern deep within them. Shit… s-shit…

 “Kyoudai! Calm yourself, it’s alright! I’m sure that whatever idea you had is a good one! They usually are! Well… as long as it doesn’t involve violence, that is! And! You are not a… a /dumb butt/, you are very smart! Now… please tell me your idea! I am desperate for any help I can get, if you are willing to offer it!” 

 Mondo momentarily gets lost in the intensity of his kyoudai’s eyes, his heart pounding strangely in his chest. Taka doesn’t seem to notice and just stares steadily back, face full of a silent confidence that Mondo could only wish he had. Taka… Taka has always thought the best of him… after they became kyoudai, at least. He’s the only person who believes in him so completely and utterly… even Daiya’s faith wavers sometimes. Taka’s though… it never does, not even for a second… fuck, Mondo is so lucky to have someone as incredible at him… so ungodly lucky… 

 It’s this thought, more than anything, that calms him down enough to keep going, though his heart is still racing horribly in his chest. Taka’s hand has yet to leave his cheek, and his body feels so flushed at the contact, but it’s not bad. Not bad at all…

 “O-okay. Well… from what ya said, it sounds like ya just need ta find a dude ta bring home with ya, yeah? Someone who ya can call yer boyfriend, who knows ya well, who can make yer family think yer happy an’ in love, right? So- so that they’ll stop tryin’ ta hook ya up with any available body? Yeah?” 

 Mondo pauses for a second, eyeing Taka critically, his throat suddenly going thick for reasons he doesn’t understand. Shit… yeah, he knows this idea of his is stupid as shit, but it’s not like Taka will fucking /make fun of him/ for it… Taka is so fucking kind, even if he can be clueless at times, and he’d fucking never make fun of anyone. Not on purpose. 

 Unfortunately, it seems that Taka takes his silence as an invitation for comment, the hall monitor nodding slowly, biting his lip nervously. 

 “Er… well, yes, I suppose so, kyoudai! I suppose having a man come home with me /would/ solve my problems nicely! But… that’s exactly the problem, kyoudai! I don’t actually have a boyfriend, and where on earth will I be able to find one on such short notice?! Besides! I told my great aunt that we’d been dating for months, not just less than a week! Surely she’d be suspicious when she asks him questions and he reveals we only met less than a week prior?! And! My whole problem is that I /don’t/ want a boyfriend, kyoudai, so- so I don’t think that would work, I’m sorry! I mean, I suppose we could try it, but-!”

 “Goddamnit, Taka, I’m not talkin’ ‘bout findin’ ya a goddamn boyfriend! I ain’t that dumb, shit!” Mondo exclaims, rolling his eyes in exasperation. He can see Taka’s pout of confusion, his hand finally leaving his cheek slowly. Mondo has a second to regret the loss, but he doesn’t dwell on it long. After all, it’s time to reveal this fucking bullshit… “Anyway, like I was sayin’, ya… shit. Ya need someone who knows ya, so that the two a’ ya can /pretend/ ta be boyfriends. Ya get me?” 

 Mondo watches as Taka’s eyes go wide, his lips popping open in a silent ‘oh’ of understanding. It makes him smile, his chest fluttering at the sight, but he again pushes passed it, his nerves mounting again. Shit, why is this bullshit so fucking hard… ugh. He /hates/ emotions, he truly does…

 “So! All we gotta do is find someone ya get along well with, who yer super fuckin’ close ta, who knows ya better than ya fuckin’ know yerself! That way, the two a’ ya can trick yer family inta thinkin’ ya’ve been datin’ fer months an’ that yer super fuckin’ happy together! An’ I, uh… I- I think I know exactly who ta get! An’ it’s uh… uh…… s-shit…”

 Mondo’s face is uncomfortably flushed as he gets to this last part of his stupid ass plan, his hands fidgeting horribly. He’d be afraid Taka would chastise him for it, if Taka hadn’t been fidgeting this entire goddamn time. 

 Unfortunately, Taka has about as much patience as he does (re. none), and before Mondo can psych himself up for blurting out the person he thought would perfectly fit this stupid ass plan, Taka is talking, eyes wide with emotion. 

 “Really?! You have?! Who, kyoudai?! I must admit, I cannot think of anyone who would fit that description! I don’t exactly have many close friends, you know, and who exactly would be willing to pretend to be my boyfriend, spending a week with my family, which I know is a challenge on a normal day? Not to mention how taxing it would be to pretend to be in love with me, given how much of a hassle I am, and-“ 

 “Me, ya dumbass! I was fuckin’ talkin’ about me! My fuckin’ plan was that I’d go with ya ta yer family reunion bullshit an’ we’d pretend that we’re fuckin’ datin’! Shit!” 

 The silence that surrounds them following Mondo’s outburst is oppressive, the room thick and stifling with it. Mondo is positive that his face has never felt hotter, his stomach in fucking knots as Taka stares at him in fucking /horror/, his eyes wide and full of a kind of fear he never wants to see on his kyoudai’s face ever, ever again. Shit, he doesn’t want to see it now, especially considering it’s /his fucking fault/ that look is there, and oh, god, he just fucked this entire shit up, didn’t he, oh goddamnit, Taka fucking /hates/ him now, doesn’t he, is disgusted at the very thought of dating Mondo, fake or not, and how fucking dare Mondo /ever/ even /think/ he’d be good enough to be in even a fake relationship with Taka, Taka is so far out of his league it ain’t fucking funny, and-

 As the thoughts roil through Mondo’s head ceaselessly, like tiny daggers attacking every insecurity he’s ever fucking had, Taka’s face crumbles further, his distress palpable, and Mondo /knows/ he has to fix this, quick, because like hell is he gonna let their friendship die over something so /goddamn stupid, Jesus Christ he’s a fucking dumbass/-

 “Or not, shit! Hahahaha, /fuck/, kyoudai, fuckin’ ignore me, Christ! Told ya it was stupid as shit, I’m a goddamn dumbass who never has good ideas an’ ya shouldn’t listen ta a fuckin’ word I say! Like hell would ya ever date a piece a shit like me, ya deserve so much better, yer family would never believe ya’d love a dumpster fire like me, this was a stupid as shit idea, I’m so fuckin’ sorry, please don’t fuckin’ cry, I hate seein’ ya cry, shit-!” 

 “You… y-you’d really do that for me?” Taka asks softly, cutting Mondo’s panicked rambling off so abruptly it makes Mondo’s head spin. He’s so panicked inside that he doesn’t actually comprehend Taka’s softly spoken words for a full ten seconds, honestly. Instead he just stares at Taka, eyes wide, taking in the vulnerability he sees inside painfully familiar wide eyes. When the words finally penetrate the thick fog that has descended around his head, Mondo has to swallow thickly to push down the lump that formed in his throat, nodding solemnly. 

 “Ya kiddin’ me, Taka? Shit. Ya know I’d do fuckin’ anythin’ fer ya, man. You… yer my goddamn best friend, my kyoudai… the only person ta never fuckin’ doubt me fer a second… if I can help ya in any fuckin’ way, ya know I’d do it in a heartbeat. Ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do fer ya.” 

 Before Mondo can even blink he finds himself with an armful of a crying Taka again, his heart aching so acutely at being the cause of his fucking tears. Fuck… he really is a piece of shit, ain’t he… no wonder he’d never deserve someone as incredible as Taka… he doesn’t even deserve to be his friend, as fucking fucked up as he is, Christ…

 “Y-you truly are amazing, k-kyoudai! Your idea it- it would work perfectly! There is no one I value more than you, my friend, and while I know you do not view me that way, I think it would be simple to pretend for my family’s sake, given how close we already are! And while I dislike the idea of lying to my family, it would ensure they don’t bother me about dating for this gathering, at least! And it solves the problem of the lie I already told!” he hears Taka exclaim after a minute, the hall monitor pulling back from Mondo’s embrace enough to look him in the eyes, the brightness Mondo finds there nearly overwhelming. It strikes Mondo dumb, the ache inside him growing with every passing second. It gets hella worse when Taka’s face falls again, his lip wobbling as he goes to bite it anxiously. Jesus Christ…

 “But… but are you certain, Mondo? Y-you know what my family is like… you’ve met my parents a handful of times, and I’ve told you many stories about my grandmother, aunts, uncles, and many cousins… t-they can be a bit, er… /much/! I understand if you decide you don’t want to do this, especially since it would take a week off your break, and I know how excited you were to see your gang! Not to mention your brother! I… I’d hate to prevent you from seeing them, my friend! S-so, you don’t… you don’t have to help me, Mondo… I made this mess and I can fix it myself, I would never ask this of you, you know I wouldn’t-“

 “Then don’t ask,” Mondo interjects, automatically reaching out a hand to grab Taka’s again, squeezing gently. “I’m fuckin’ offerin’. Shit, bro. Just told ya I’d do fuckin’ anythin’ fer ya. Even slog through a fuckin’ week long family reunion full a’ energetic go getters who are all stubborn as fuckin’ oxes. The gang can fuckin’ wait. Yer more important than those jackasses. An’ Dai knows what ya mean ta me, he won’t mind me spendin’ a week with ya an’ yer family, not if it helps ya outta a bind. I see him all the fuckin’ time anyway, fuckin’ sick a’ that jackass. But, just… I mean it, Taka. I don’t mind helpin’ ya out. I’ll never mind that. ‘Sides… I think I’d honestly /kill/ ta see ya lyin’ ta yer whole ass family fer a week, man. Shit’s gonna be the fuckin’ /best/, heh!” 

 Mondo doesn’t let Taka’s glare stop the cheeky grin he has on his face, not when he can see the tension visibly flow off of Taka’s face, relief taking its place. That’s what he wanted and he’s so fucking relieved it worked. He hates seeing Taka so tense and unhappy. Taka deserves all the happiness in the world, he truly does…

 “That isn’t funny, kyoudai! Lying to my family is not a laughing matter! But I… I appreciate your kindness greatly, my friend… I honestly don’t know what I would do without you. I truly don’t,” Taka says softly, red eyes full of a tenderness that makes Mondo’s stomach twist. “But… there is one thing you said that I staunchly disagree with. You aren’t a ‘dumpster fire,’ nor are you a ‘piece of… /feces/!’ You are a wonderful, kind, and very caring person, whom I am honored to know and be close to! Any woman— or man!— would be lucky to have you! I…. I know I would be. So… please do not put yourself down, my dearest friend! You are far more than you think yourself to be!” 

 Taka’s kind and painfully honest words are too much for Mondo to handle, his heart doing gymnastics inside his chest. In an effort to dispel the soft and sappy emotions rising inside him, Mondo lets go of Taka’s hand (embarrassed to realize he was still holding it unknowingly) and deliberately pushes the hall monitor over. He grins brightly at Taka’s indignant spluttering as he falls off the bed and lands in a sprawl on the ground, his red eyes glaring up as his full lips pout. Fucking adorable as shit, goddamn…

 “Mondo! That was highly uncalled for!” 

 Mondo snickers as he carefully climbs off the bed, holding a hand out to Taka to help him up. Which Taka accepts with another pout, though Mondo thinks he can see fondness in those scarlet eyes. Heh.

 “Yeah? Well, that’ll teach ya ta not say such sappy shit ta me. What are we, preteen chicks?! Shit, man. Now, I dunno know ‘bout you, but I’ve had enough emotional bull crap fer one day. It’s so fuckin’ late, goddamn. We can work out all the details a’ this shit plan in the mornin’, ‘kay? We got a bit a’ time ‘fore this shit show starts, goddamn,” Mondo claims, stretching his arms over his head leisurely. Once he’s done stretching, he continues. 

 “So, d’ya wanna stay over an’ get some studyin’ in? Was tryin’ ta read our goddamn history textbook ‘fore ya started goin’ hog on my bell, though that shit is so fuckin��� confusin’. Or ya can just sleep if ya want. I’ll prolly be up fer a while, since I drank a fuck ton a’ monster, but I can be quiet if ya wanna sleep.”

 Taka blinks at the change in conversation, but he quickly recovers, by now used to Mondo’s abrupt conversation changes once things start drifting too far into emotional territory. The hall monitor then gets a contemplative look on his face, humming softly as he thinks about Mondo’s request. After a moment of this, Taka looks up and smiles brightly at him, nodding firmly. Mondo ignores the gymnasts that are going wild in his heart again. It ain’t important.

 “I think you are right that we should handle the rest of this come morning, kyoudai! It’s much too late to handle such unpleasant business now! And… if you do not mind, kyoudai, I think it would be best for me to stay over tonight! After all, it is very late and if I left now I would be breaking curfew for a second time! Knowingly this time! Which I definitely do not want! And I… I wouldn’t mind staying up for a little bit longer with you! I know that sleep is important to a healthy person, but I must admit that I am a bit too… wired to sleep at the moment. But… w-well. Perhaps we could watch another episode of that show you enjoy instead? While I greatly support your desire to study, I know that you are just trying to appease me, and I do not want that, kyoudai! After all you have done for me today, and all you have offered for the future… well! It’s the absolute least I could do! I-if you would like, of course!” 

 Mondo grins widely at his kyoudai’s offer, reaching forward to affectionately ruffle the teen’s hair. He ignores Taka’s indignant squawking and wraps his arm firmly around the hall monitor’s surprisingly broad and muscular shoulders, steering him gently over to the TV and couch he has in the corner of the room. He definitely ain’t gonna argue when /Taka/ finally asks to watch TV over studying for the first time in his entire goddamn life! It seems that miracles do happen! 

 “Hell yeah, man! Now yer speakin’ my language! Sit yer pasty ass down an’ get ready fer the absolute best goddamn time a’ yer fuckin’ life,” Mondo grins, laughing at Taka’s over exaggerated eye roll. He remembers a time Taka refused to do such a thing, calling it ‘juvenile’ and ‘grotesquely disrespectful,’ heh. How far his little kyoudai has come… he’s so fucking proud. 

 After that, he and Taka sprawl down on the couch, Mondo putting on another episode of the best fucking anime the world has ever seen as he and Taka get busy getting comfy. He knows that Taka isn’t very invested in the story, but the hall monitor is kind enough to watch the series with him on occasion anyway, usually as a treat for finishing all of his work on time. It feels a little weird to be watching a show with Taka at one in the fucking morning, but there’s something strangely thrilling about it too. Like they’re breaking a rule together, even though there technically aren’t any rules prohibiting shit like this. It’s prolly just because normally, Taka wouldn’t be caught dead watching a TV show in general, let alone watching one past curfew, heh. His kyoudai sure is structured, following the most rigid fucking schedule Mondo has ever seen every goddamn day of his goddamn life… it’s honestly kinda endearing, heh. 

 As the screen turns on and Mondo navigates to his favorite fucking show, he has to forcibly push away the fucking anxiety that keeps trying to crop up inside of him over the thought of what he agreed to do with Taka over the break, telling himself that he’ll handle it later. And why the fuck should it even matter, huh? Shit, it’s just pretending to be his best friend’s fucking /boyfriend/ in front of all of his fucking family for an entire goddamn week, tricking them into thinking the two of them are madly in love and happy together so they’ll stop harassing Taka about getting a boyfriend. All while being the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader, AKA a no good, rotten, criminal delinquent who in no way, shape, or form will ever be close to being good enough for someone as fucking /perfect/ as Taka. The fuck does he have to be nervous about, huh?! Shit will be fine. Fucking /fine/. 

 It’s about halfway through the episode, Mondo barely noticing what’s going on (definitely /not/ because he’s internally freaking the fuck out over the thought of the con job he and Taka are gonna attempt to pull off, fuck you very much), that he feels a weight fall against his shoulder. 

 Jolting slightly in surprise, Mondo looks to his left and feels his heart clench when he sees Taka leaning against him with his eyes closed, his mouth partially open, and his breathing deep and even. While it’s not even close to the first time he’s seen Taka while he’s sleeping— since they’ve had so many sleepovers by this point that it’s not funny— it still always manages to take him by surprise just how peaceful the teen looks when he’s asleep. His intense eyebrows aren’t furrowed into tight little knots, and his lips aren’t pulled down into that angry little scowl. He looks almost like a regular teen like this, like he hasn’t put the weight of the world forcibly onto his own shoulders. It’s… honestly super fucking alluring… not that he views Taka like that! Heh! 

 Anyway… Mondo focuses back on the TV as the final act of the show plays out, Mondo following along easily since he’s seen this episode a hundred goddamn times. He tries not to notice Taka’s steady weight against his shoulder, but it’s so fucking hard not to. After a minute, he gives into temptation and wraps his arm around Taka’s shoulder, allowing the teen to rest more comfortably against his side. He yet again ignores the clenching his heart gives when he feels Taka happily snuggle closer, lips releasing a happy little hum as he gets comfy. Ain’t a fucking problem. Not like this is the first time this shit has happened. No big deal. 

 When the episode finally ends, Mondo starts another one, not wanting to let go of Taka just then. It’s just nice, okay? Holding the teen. Feeling his warmth against him. Mondo’s always been a very tactile person and being close to Taka like this is just… nice. So fucking nice. It ain’t fucking weird, okay?! Shit…

 By the time that episode ends Mondo can feel the energy drink wear off, his body crashing from the caffeine high. Blinking back his exhaustion, he turns off the TV and turns to face his kyoudai, smiling at the peaceful expression. He truly regrets reaching out and shaking Taka gently to wake him, but he knows that he’s gotta. While he could carry the hall monitor to his bed no problem, he knows he can’t let Taka sleep in his uniform all night. And like hell is he gonna undress the teen without his knowledge. Shit’s creepy as fuck. 

 “Hey, kyoudai. Ya gotta wake up, man. It’s so fuckin’ late an’ we gotta get ta bed. Ya hear me?” Mondo mutters as he tries to rouse his sleeping friend. Given that Taka’s always been a bit of a heavy sleeper, it takes him a few moments of this before the teen blinks awake, his red eyes bleary with exhaustion. 

 “K-kyoudai? What are you doing here?” Taka mumbles sleepily, his eyes blinking heavily as he looks around the room absently. It makes Mondo smile, finding Taka unreasonably cute. He just can’t help it. Dude’s fucking adorable, ask anyone. 

 “Yer in my room, man. ‘Member? Ya had that problem with yer family an’ then I asked if ya wanted ta study? An’ ya said no, ya wanted ta watch a show instead? Only ta fall asleep halfway through the first episode, like the old man ya are? Ringin’ any bells?” Mondo rumbles, a smirk replacing the smile as he teases his friend. He watches as Taka continues to blink, comprehension filling his face slowly. A flush rises on Taka’s cheeks for reasons Mondo doesn’t know, the teen averting his eyes hastily. 

 “A-ah, yes, I… I’m sorry, kyoudai… I didn’t mean to fall asleep… d-did you still want to watch some of the show now? I do not mind!” Taka claims, though his voice is thick with sleep. Smiling softly, Mondo shakes his head. Then, unable to help himself, he reaches out and brushes back some of Taka’s hair, privately relishing in the coarseness of the strands. He can tell Taka didn’t take a shower like he usually does at night, leaving his hair all crunchy from his gel, the strands sticking out in all directions. It makes Taka look disheveled in a way Mondo doesn’t think anyone else has ever seen, save maybe his parents. The thought brings a rush of pure pleasure to flow through him. 

 “Nah, man. It’s cool. ‘Sides, I’m fuckin’ crashin’ hard. Just wanted ta wake ya so ya could change outta yer ridiculous uniform. Can’t sleep in that shit. Want, uh… w-want some help?” 

 Taka blinks blearily at him, his soft flush darkening. To Mondo’s intense shock, the teen nods slowly, red eyes sinking to the ground. Oh… shit. He hadn’t expected Taka to agree… not that he minds, of course, this ain’t the first time he’s helped his kyoudai undress (in a strictly platonic way, Jesus fucking Christ) but… h-heh. Shit. 

 “I-if you do not mind, my dearest kyoudai,” Taka mumbles, stabbing Mondo through the heart. Clearing his throat to try and dislodge the ball of emotion that has risen there, Mondo nods mutely and reaches forward to grab the ridiculous medals and pins and place them down on the table nearby. Taka helps with this, but his fingers are clumsy, his eyes drooping heavily with every second that passes. It’s so fucking adorable, but Mondo presses on and begins unbuttoning the ridiculously complex white jacket. Once that’s off, Mondo folds it the way Taka has taught him, though far more clumsily and awkwardly. It’s worth it to see the sleepy smile his kyoudai shoots him, though. 

 Soon enough Taka is down to his underwear, Mondo doing his best to not internally combust. But why the fuck should it matter if Taka’s in his underwear, huh?! He’s seen the dude naked a ton of times, since they routinely take a morning bath in the bathhouse together. Nakedness has never, not once, bothered Mondo, so he firmly ignores the heat in his gut as he reaches forward to lift up his kyoudai. It’s so expected by this point that Taka doesn’t even let out a token protest at the action, instead just wrapping his arms around Mondo’s neck with a happy hum.  

 The feel of sleep warm, bare skin against his body is stupidly distracting, so Mondo quickly heads for his bed and gently places Taka down atop it. Mondo gives himself one second to admire the image of a half naked, sleepy Taka cuddling down into his bed, before he begins discarding his pants and getting into the bed beside his kyoudai. He keeps his tank on, though. Just… for no reason, really. 

 As soon as his head hits the pillow, Mondo feels his eyes close heavily, his exhaustion catching up to him. It’s about half past two and even he’s tired as shit. Luckily it’s Saturday (Sunday now, technically), giving him all of tomorrow (today, shit, whatever) to lounge in bed and relax. He carefully doesn’t think about how Taka sure as shit ain’t gonna allow him to do that, as anal as the teen is about studying for the exams, and lets his delusion of a lazy day soothe him into the bliss of sleep. 

 Before he can fully drift off, though, he feels a cautious hand brush the back of his own, causing his eyes to flutter open and his head to loll to the side, eyeing his friend. Taka is curled into a ball on his side, like he usually sleeps, but even through the dark Mondo can see that his bright red eyes are open, even if they droop with sleep. 

 “Mondo? Are you awake?” Taka asks quietly, his voice softer than Mondo’s ever heard it. Concerned, Mondo moves his hand to grab his friend’s, squeezing the appendage tightly. 

 “Yeah. Y’okay, kyoudai? Need anythin’?” 

 Mondo watches as Taka shakes his head slowly, the hall monitor subtly shifting so that he’s closer to Mondo. Usually when they share a bed they’re able to stay on their respective sides, but it’s not uncommon for them to migrate to the middle, either in sleep or deliberately like this. He tells himself that firmly when he feels his heart jump at the feel of Taka’s head landing on his chest, Mondo’s arms automatically wrapping around an overwhelmingly warm chest. 

 “I just… wanted to thank you, my friend. For all your help today, and how kind you’ve always been to me. I will never understand why you- you care about me, but I… I cannot be more grateful. I… you truly are outstanding, Mondo. Truly.” 

 The whispered words break Mondo’s heart, and before he knows it he is tightening his grip to try and release some of the emotion that is building up inside him. Logically, he knows that he was Taka’s first friend and that a lot of the teen’s gratitude towards him is in regards to that, but… but sometimes, when Taka says shit like that, that’s he’s outstanding and kind and- and shit like that, he…

 He can almost find it in him to believe it…

 The emotion still far too overwhelming, Mondo finds himself leaning down and pressing a featherlight, gentle kiss to his kyoudai’s crown, an action he knows he will fervently deny to his dying day. Right now, though… he’s too tired to care. 

 “Shit… thanks, bro. Now, ‘nough chick shit. Get some sleep, man. Know yer gonna wanna be up stupidly early ta go over yer self-made study guide an’ I fuckin’ /know/ yer gonna force me ta do that shit too. So… get some sleep, Kiyo. Rest a’ this shit can wait ‘til mornin’, ‘kay?” 

 Taka nods sleepily against his chest, letting out one last happy sigh before he immediately falls into a deep sleep, his breathing deep and even. Mondo honestly envies how quick the teen can fall asleep, since even when he’s dead tired it takes Mondo a while to drift off. But that’s okay. He doesn’t mind. He’s glad Taka can find sleep that easy. He deserves it. 

 He uses his time to watch his kyoudai as he sleeps, sleepy eyes tracing over painfully familiar features, over and over again. If he were in his right mind he’d force himself to stop, thinking how fucking creepy it is to watch a person sleep, but he uses his exhaustion as an excuse and keeps going. Eventually his eyes get too heavy and he has to close them, sleep finding him soon after, but he’s not too disappointed. 

 It ain’t like this is the last time they’ll ever do this shit. 

 The thought is comforting. 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(While they don’t show up for a few more chapters, here is a cheat sheet of Taka’s family on his mother’s side. Spoiler: there are a lot and they have similar names. No, this was not at all confusing for me while writing this story. No, I’m TOTALLY not lying right now. :-) )

Taka’s family (this part is a basic run down of Taka’s family on his mother’s side. This is what I used to come up with the OC’s I was going to need. Not all of these characters will be at the reunion, but most will. I have a more in depth run down with names and ages right after this):

Him

His mom and dad.

His mom’s older sister and younger brother. The sister is married and has three children, ages 14, 10, and 6. Taka gets along with the children reasonably well, but his aunt doesn’t approve of his sexuality. The brother is divorced and has two children, ages 8 and 3, but they’re not coming to the reunion.

His grandma who is a widow. His great aunt Hana and great uncle Akiro. They have two children, both of whom are coming. One of the children is unmarried while the other is and has three children, two twins about Taka’s age and a 13 year old. Taka doesn’t get along with the twins at all and only somewhat tolerates the 13 year old. The entire family is vaguely unpleasant and stuck up.

There is another cousin who is the child of another great uncle who passed, his grandmother’s older brother. This cousin has two children, one who is twenty five and has two children, ages three and five months, while the other is twenty and single. Taka gets along with them reasonably well.

Note: Pretty much all of these names were picked at random from a list of Japanese baby names. Very little thought was put into them, other than the name I gave Taka’s mother. But I already named her in my other fic The Problem With Perfection, ha.

~XOX~

List of people at the family reunion:

Takaaki: Taka’s dad. Like in canon, he’s a cop and is very tired all the time with the debt he has to pay back. He loves Taka dearly and would do anything for him. Age: Mid to late thirties

Kiyoshi: the name I gave Taka’s mom. Since, ya know… it’s not fair if he only gets named after his dad, ha. She is very kind and loving to Taka, and Taka is extremely close to her. Age: mid to late thirties.

Granny Kichi: Taka’s grandma, Kiyoshi’s mom. She’s very shrewd and opinionated, and she doesn’t like being in the wrong. She is not a fan of Mondo at all. Age: late sixties, early seventies.

Great Aunt Hana: Taka’s aunt, older sister of his grandma. She lived with Kiyoshi and Kichi when Kiyoshi was little, so she’s like a second mother to her. She’s even more stubborn and opinionated than Kichi, which is saying a lot, though she tends to be more fair in her judgement and is cautiously approving of Mondo. Age: early to mid seventies.

Great Uncle Akiro: Hana’s husband. While he also lived with Kiyoshi and Kichi, Kiyoshi isn’t as close to him, as he’s very reserved. She loves him dearly though. Age: late seventies.

Kumi: Taka’s first cousin once removed, though he calls her ‘aunt.’ She’s the daughter of Akiro and Hana. Very unpleasant and elitist and doesn’t get along well with Kiyoshi, despite being raised together, making them almost siblings. Mildly homophobic. Age: mid to late forties.

Daichi: Kumi’s husband, who Taka calls ‘uncle’. He’s a successful business man and is very rigid and cold. Like Byakuya but a bit less pretentious and more cruel. Is very disparaging to Takaaki and Kiyoshi because of the Ishimaru scandal. Homophobic. Age: late forties.

Akihiko: Taka’s other first cousin once removed, though he calls him ‘uncle.’ The son of Akiro and Hana. He never married and is a happy bachelor. He and Taka get along well, though Akihiko is much more laid back than any of the others in the family. He’s close to Kiyoshi and they get along very well. Age: late forties.

Eiko: Taka’s second cousin. She is the twin sister to Eichi and is the first daughter of Kumi and Daichi. She is a very unpleasant, nasty girl who thinks herself better than others because her father is rich. Taka dislikes her greatly, though he does his best to be polite to her. She has no real opinion on homosexuality, but she has no problem using it against Taka. Age: sixteen, almost seventeen. About a year younger than Taka at the time of this fic.

Eichi: Taka’s other second cousin. He is the twin brother to Eiko and only son of Kumi and Daichi. He is also very unpleasant, always bullying Taka because of what happened to Taka’s paternal grandfather. Taka would never admit it, but he hates Eichi and equates him with the worst of his bullies in grade school. He also has no real strong opinions about homosexuality, but definitely doesn’t mind using it against Taka. Age: sixteen, almost seventeen.

Haruki: Taka’s other second cousin. Younger sister of Eichi and Eiko and youngest daughter of Kumi and Daichi. Of her branch of the family, she is the nicest, but that’s not saying much as she is still very stuck up and snobbish. She looks down upon Taka for the scandal, but she doesn’t hate him and doesn’t tend to bully him. She is actually supportive of gay rights, though she does not publicly admit this for fear of being alienated by her family. Age: thirteen.

Jin: daughter of an unnamed great uncle, who was the eldest brother of Kichi and Hana. She is married to Taishiro. They are not attending the reunion so they don’t really matter, ha. Age: mid fifties.

Yoshi: Taka’s second cousin. Eldest daughter of Jin and Taishiro. She is kind of like a big sister to Taka and they get along well. She is mellower than Taka, though she also has a strict sense of right and wrong, and has a bubbly personality. Age: twenty-five.

Alex: Married to Yoshi. He is an American immigrant who lives in Japan. He is nice enough, though very bland and his Japanese is so-so. Age: mid to late twenties.

Samantha: Taka’s second cousin once removed, daughter of Yoshi and Alex. She is three and is very rambunctious and spirited. Talks A LOT. Taka adores her and she adores Mondo, to Mondo’s confusion, disgruntlement, and private delight. Age: three.

Benny: Taka’s other second cousin once removed, son of Yoshi and Alex. He is an infant and is very, very cute. Taka adores him dearly. Yes, he is just an excuse to have Taka and Mondo hold and take care of a baby and I won’t apologize for it. Age: five months.

Miki: Taka’s other second cousin. Youngest daughter of Jin and Taishiro. She is currently in university as a fashion design major and wants to become a famous fashion designer. Bugs Taka all the time about Junko (who, BTW, isn’t evil in the AU, but is definitely not nice). Taka doesn’t get along with her as well as he gets along with Yoshi, but he likes her well enough. She has trouble finding a date (mostly due to her overbearing nature) and is bitter about it, but is super supportive of Taka and Mondo’s “relationship.” Age: 20

Ryoko: Taka’s actual aunt. Older sister of Kiyoshi. Homophobic and very vocal about her disdain for Taka and Mondo’s relationship. Before he came out, Taka had liked his aunt very much, and is very hurt by her disdain and disgust for him now. She does not get along well with her younger sister at all because of her comments towards Taka. Before that, they were fairly close as well.  Age: early forties.

Yuudai: Ryoko’s husband. A very meek and quiet man who gets overshadowed by his wife. Taka feels a bit sorry for him, but never says that. He is not homophobic but he doesn’t speak out against his wife. Age: early forties.

Ronin: Taka’s first cousin, son of Ryoko and Yuudai. A spirited boy who takes a shining to Mondo, much to Mondo’s discomfort. Unlike his mother, he has no problem with people who are gay. Age: fourteen.

Raidon: Taka’s first cousin, son of Ryoko and Yuudai. Quieter than his older brother, Raidon likes to look and listen, not speaking much. He also likes Mondo and has no problem with people who are gay. Age: ten.

Rini: Taka’s first cousin, daughter of Ryoko and Yuudai. Very loud and energetic, she adores Taka and is borderline obsessed with Mondo, to Mondo’s supposed horror. Taka finds it adorable. Does not understand why her mother does not like Mondo or his relationship to Taka. Age: six.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And that’s the first chapter! I honestly really like this chapter and it’s prolly the main reason I keep thinking about this story so much. I really wanted to share this chapter specifically, so I’m glad I’m finally sharing it here on Tumblr. I’ve been meaning to for AGES, but kept putting it off. But there’s no time like the present. ^-^ Hopefully I’ll post the second chapter tomorrow, prolly in a different post to not make this one insanely long. I’ll prolly not add the italics to that chapter and just have the little slants to indicate italics, since it took me a while to do that today. I’ve not put this fic on my computer since it’s unfinished, so I just have my little indicators I use on my phone at the moment. Sorry if that bothers anyone. 

[sparkles-and-trash]

The Gaang are Roommates AU ~

note: this is a rewrite and repost of my old roommates au, there was some stuff I wanted to change, and I wanted to make the parts a little longer, so yeah, ta-dah! 

- think modern setting in the canon universe, bending is still a thing 

- the Gaang are all in going to Ba Sing Se University 

- I’m gonna change the ages a bit to make it easier for myself, sorry 

- Zuko, Sokka, Suki and Mai are 20, Katara, Ty Lee and Azula are 19, Aang, Toph and Yue are 18

- so, Zuko, Sokka, Katara, Aang and Toph end up living together in a big loft type apartment 

- Sokka and Aang are old best friends, they met Toph in Middle School, and Katara is a natural part of the group 

- until now Sokka and Katara have both been living in the dorms, and they both hate it intensely 

- but now that Aang and Toph are also in uni, they all decide to move in together!

- …but the only problem is that the only place they find that they like is just out of their price rage (Toph’s parents aren’t supportive of her major so they’re not helping out much)

- enter: ~ Zuko ~

- so, Zuko has been living with his uncle Iroh since his Father, who’s a high up in some big and important company the Fire Nation, disowned him for speaking up against the company’s shifty treatment of workers and ruining a lot of sacred land etc 

- they’re still firebenders and the scar still happened, not in an Agni Kai, but it happened 

- but after Zuko started uni, Iroh really tried to push him to meet some people his own age and make some friends

- the only people Zuko talks to on the regular besides Iroh is Azula, Ty Lee and Mai, and Mai is the only one who is like, his friend yanno?

- the last year the deal was that if Zuko didn’t branch out, Iroh would have him live one year with other students

- it’s his idea of tough love 

- Zuko tried to do some random kid’s homework to have them pretend to be his new friend in front of Iroh so he wouldn’t have to, but Iroh can tell he’s lying so easily 

- so, Zuko ends up hearing about the Gaang through Mai, who heard from Ty Lee, who plays field hockey, Suki, who’s best friends with Sokka

- so, he goes to meet them, and it’s so awkward mY GOD

- Katara is a B I G environmental activist and HATES Ozai and his company, with good reason

- she eases up a tad when Zuko admits to being turned away from as a teen, but she is still suspicious

- Aang loves him right away, ofc, and that makes Katara even more suspicious because she’s pretty protective of Aang

- she claims it’s because he’s so kind and believes everyone but she totally liikeees hiiiim

- Toph is just like, sure, as long as he pays his rent idgaf

- Sokka is weirdly quiet, because he’s had a huge crush on Zuko forever, and the only one who knows is Aang (and Toph but she ain’t no snitch)

- so, ya boy makes the cut, and before they know it, it’s move-in day!

- but, the idiots didn’t think through the facts that it’s only three bedrooms oops

- and Toph is NOT afraid to pull the “I’m blind and I need my space” card

- and nobody’s up to fight her on it, so 

- let’s just say there is A LOT of back and forth, but with Katara refusing to room with her brother again, and Zuko being rightfully scared of Katara, it ends up with Zuko and Sokka sharing a bedroom, and Katara and Aang

- they have separate beds ofc

- but still, tension, man, so much tension

- it takes a while, but the dynamics starts working out really well

- Zuko is good at grocery shopping and likes to clean, and Aang is always happy to help him out

- Sokka loves cooking, so he does that a lot

- Katara is always on top of the others with schoolwork and making sure everyone is okay, and she usually does it in genius, sneaky ways so people doesn’t even notice that she does it

- Toph is clearing the air off bullshit

- like, she will call a bitch out

- but because she cares about said bitch

- so, Aang knows that Sokka has a crush on Zuko because Sokka told him in a weak moment, and Toph knows because she just knows

- Aang is a good friend tho, and he tries to like, ease them together

- but he is so awkward about it, the poor thing, and Zuko doesn’t understand AT ALL

- Toph is just sitting back and sighing a lot

- Katara doesn’t understand either but she just stays out of it (smart girl)

- but okay, we know how oblivious Zuko can be right?

- Sokka can give him googly eyes and blush and stutter around him so much and he still has no clue at all

- Zuko starts thinking Sokka just doesn’t like him at all

- but then one night Zuko has this really intense nightmare

- okay and quick addition, his scar is… handshaped? Like, you can clearly tell what happened to him

- but nobody talks about it, yet

- but then he’s having a terrible nightmare and is talking and begging and pleading in his sleep

- so much that Sokka wakes up

- and he catches on pretty fast, but had no idea what to do

- so he just shuffles over to Zuko’s side of the room and starts tapping his shoulder rapidly

- but nothing happens

- so he just… gently and awkwardly pats his head until Zuko wakes up

- and Zuko is like… wat u doin there bro

- and Sokka is like… just patting ur head to wake you from a nightmare bro

- and they awkwardly just mumble and go back to their beds

- but Zuko is smiling a lot because someone who’s not his family or a family friend really cares about him

- after that, Zuko slowly starts opening up to all of them, but Sokka especially 

- he never really tells them about being cast out and burned tho

- until one day he kinda casually slings it into a convo all fast and awkwardly

- it’s just Toph, Aang and Sokka there

- Toph yells so WHAATTT so loudly and just metalbends the whole fridge into a clump in rage

- Aang cries lmao but he tries to hide to and be supportive and not awkward

- Sokka is kinda quiet, but he carefully asks about it that night when they’re in their beds, and they talk a little about it

- Aang tells Katara (with permission) and she awkwardly, but wholeheartedly tells him that he can always talk to her

- they do that «awkward sibling hug» from Gravity Falls after

- *hugs stiffly* «pat, pat»

- but okay, Toph and metalbending when angry, it happens quite a lot 

- this was the first time it was the fridge, but the toaster, the microwave, and several other appliances have met the same fate

- everyone is kinda used to it now, and she always replaces it

- except Zuko, who’s still kinda new to them all

- but what are you supposed to say when your new friends is so outraged by the abuse you went through that they crush a whole ass fridge?

- it actually reminds him that he’s cared for here, by these people who owe him nothing, and is not related to him, and it makes him a little dizzy to have people care this way

- he casually mentions it to his Uncle Iroh the time he’s in at work, that his new friend is a metalbender and squashed their whole fridge when she was pissed on his behalf

- Iroh is thrilled

- to the point of offering Toph a job lmao

- Toph, desperate to cut of as much ties with her family and be as self-sufficient as possible, agrees

- and now Iroh have two formerly rich kids with no clue about any sort of customer service and basic stuff like that working for him

- Toph is a hard worker tho, and she and Zuko work surprisingly well together

- Katara is a little relived, because the more those two work, the less are the chances of either of them trying to cook or do too many chores around their apartment

- they mean well, or, Zuko does, but he does so much dumb shit when trying to help lmao

- Sokka starts spending a lot of time over at The Jasmine Drago too

- Aang is still trying to keep the fact that Sokka likes Zuko a secret, but he is having trouble

- Katara is his biggest weakness, and now they’re suddenly alone with her a lot

- someone else who could always read Sokka really well is Suki

. whom he used date in high school, but they parted as friends and everything s cool

- but Sokka is a little taken aback when she comes into The Jasmine Dragon one day, hand in hand with Sokka’s childhood crush obsession, Yue

- for the first time in man’s memory, Sokka is a little speechless

- and Suki’s like “lmao dude I haven’t seen you like this since the first time you saw Zu-”

- cue Zuko popping out behind them like “WELCOME TO THE JASMINE DRAGON FRIENDS OF SOKKA :D”

- Sokka is so fucking red, poor boy is just about having an aneurism at this point

- but luckily something happens and Zuko gets distracted

- Suki is having the time of her life tho, Sokka always used to tease her for her crushes before and after they dated, and suddenly, here they are

- at the apartment, Aang decides they need some apartment traditions

- they’ve been living there for almost three months, after all

- so he decides that weekly movie nights are mandatory

- so are pillowforts

- Katara is actually really excited for it, she loves all things cozy and fall-like

- also… she is weak for Aang, y’all, and she loves seeing him all excited

- Zuko barely knows what a pillowfort is, he didn’t think real people actually made it

- but imagine these dorks in a pillowfort with hot chocolate and lot’s of pillows

- Toph claims that she thinks it’s soo dumb, but she will always make sit in the middle of the group all wrapped in her blanket and laughing when the others jump and get spooked from the horror movies Sokka always wants to watch

- and she will make sure the fort is right and perfect lmao

- Zuko is a little awkward about it at first, but he likes it too

- Sokka always manages to plop in next to Zuko lmao

- they haven’t talked about the head patting incident yet, but Zuko is def starting to feel the butterflies

- one time after a movie night Sokka falls asleep on Zuko’s shoulder, after the others have left for the night

- Zuko can’t resist waking him up with awkward head pats similar to the one Sokka used on him

- Sokka thinks he died and went to heaven lmao

- but then he fully wakes and sees Zuko’s shit eating grin and can’t help but laugh at the whole thing

- and Zuko has his “oh no he’s hot beautiful and I really adore him” moment

[jangofctts]

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit 

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end    

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met. 

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things. 

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income. 

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing. 

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster. 

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.  

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles. 

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship. 

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.  

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back. 

Whatever.

 Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off. 

Maybe. 

                                                       -=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you. 

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.” 

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?” 

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think. 

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.” 

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”  

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots. 

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.” 

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.     

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.” 

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…” 

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.       

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own). 

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.  

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.       

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that. 

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

                                                 -=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show. 

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will. 

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.  

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…          

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.  

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans. 

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.    

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal. 

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.     

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…        

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.   

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.  

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter. 

Eh.    

Could be worse. 

At least you aren’t dead. 

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun. 

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.        

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.      

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light. 

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.  

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room. 

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”      

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.” 

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.” 

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.   

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.  

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.” 

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”  

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt. 

Damn it.  

                                                     -=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this. 

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn. 

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red. 

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.” 

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”      

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it. 

“Leave.” 

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.” 

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved. 

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”  

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side. 

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.” 

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”  

You wince. 

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”  

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.” 

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.    

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet. 

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch. 

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage. 

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?” 

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.” 

You frown. “Poor guy…” 

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.  

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp. 

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?” 

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder. 

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.” 

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.” 

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.” 

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them. 

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right. 

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath. 

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.   

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning. 

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet. 

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man. 

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell— 

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling. 

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?” 

“She isn’t made of glass.” 

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.  

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.” 

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance. 

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.” 

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.” 

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.   

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.” 

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin. 

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.        

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again. 

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole. 

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.” 

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.  

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope. 

Here you are—asphyxiating.   

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it. 

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?   

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off. 

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.  

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.  

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”           

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on. 

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.” 

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“ 

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah. 

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?” 

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.   

“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.” 

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree. 

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk? 

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”    

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.      

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.” 

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.” 

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.” 

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din." 

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb. 

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”  

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing. 

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees. 

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch. 

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.   

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.    

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds. 

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm. 

“Paz—“ 

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”  

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.      

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.     

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh. 

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”  

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—  

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”  

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough. 

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.” 

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.” 

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.” 

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you. 

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.  

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals. 

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?” 

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered. 

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation. 

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.” 

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration. 

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—   

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip. 

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind. 

Din’s kiss is devouring—  

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—  

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning. 

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.   

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.” 

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on. 

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside. 

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth. 

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.  

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now— 

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit. 

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away. 

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.   

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.           

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.” 

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.” 

“Neither will your arrogance.” 

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out. 

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.” 

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.” 

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic. 

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”  

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further. 

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—         

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words. 

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips. 

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?” 

Din. 

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.    

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position. 

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath. 

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.” 

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.       

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him. 

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.          

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete. 

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.    

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.” 

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need. 

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much. 

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours. 

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.      

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.  

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”     

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.            

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear. 

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder. 

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?” 

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.  

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.” 

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts. 

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.     

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—     

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.     

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?  

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.   

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.  

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.” 

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems. 

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air. 

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.      

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.” 

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.     

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future. 

You shrug it off.    

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear. 

“You love her, don't you?” 

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak 

or’dinni--dumbass idiot 

vod--brother/comrade 

tag list: 

@bobafctts​ @djxrxn​ @teaofpeach​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @nelba​ @datmando​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @dreams-like-clockwork​ @aerynwrites​ @auty-ren​ @huliabitch​ @anxiety-riddled-mando​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @trippedmetaldetector​ 

[amor-immortalem]

I Could Care Less (About You)

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

A/N: I wanted to write something around the time when Arella first got to the devildom. We all know Mammon didn't like the MC very much. It's my own thoughts that he was especially mean in those first few weeks up until they made the pact and I kind of wanted to explore that in terms of his and Arella's relationship.

It all started with small acts of kindness. Taking the fall for him when items would go missing so he wouldn’t get strung up from the ceiling, saving a plate for him when he was late for dinner, letting him copy her homework when he didn’t finish his in time. Mammon can’t understand it. He and this human hardly know anything about each other but here she is, doing little things that would make his life just a little bit easier. Hell, he’d even stolen multiple objects of value from Arella and yet she never ratted him out to his brother despite knowing damn well who did it. She just let it slide.

If he’s being honest, it scares him. Did she like him that much or could she possibly want from something from him? Mammon was sure she was gearing up to ask for a favor from him. He decided whatever it was he wouldn’t do it. He may have had the task of looking after this human forced upon him by Lucifer but he wasn’t about to sit back and comply with it.

The demon made sure to let the human know what an inconvenience she was to him almost every day- most typically whenever he had to cancel his own plans to escort her around town. She took it like a champ though, never seeming to let it bother her. She was so kind it was almost annoying. Maybe it really didn’t bother her. That must be the only reason she’s pestering him now. He did have to give her credit for her persistence though.

“Come on, Mammon! Lucifer left me in charge of the grocery shopping and I can’t go out alone or I’ll get eaten.” Arella said as she trailed after the Avatar of Greed. Having only been here in the Devildom for only a handful of weeks, she was still actually afraid that a lower demon might make a snack out of her.

“Ask one of my brothers ta take ya. I got plans and you’re not ruinin’ ‘em this time.”

Had any of the other brothers been home, Arella gladly would have asked one of them, but they weren’t- not even Mr. Shut-In himself! It was just her and her insensitive guardian demon.

“They’re not home, you know that.”

“I don’t give a shit, human! You got a phone. Just text ‘em. Now scram! I got a poker game ta get to and you’re holdin’ me up.”

“B-but-”

“Diavolo almighty,” Mammon groans as he turns to her, “I guess ya didn’t hear me clear enough the first time so I’ll say it again nice’ an’ slow for ya so try to keep up, ‘kay? I do not care about you. I hate the fact that I have to babysit ya. You could get eaten and I couldn’t care less. Infact, my life would be considerably easier if ya weren’t around. Got it?”

“O-Okay,” Arella squeaked under the intensity of the white-haired demon’s gaze. “Understandable, have a good night then.... hope you win a lot.”

“Whatever,” Mammon huffs with a roll of the eyes. “I don’t need your well wishes.” With that, Mammon turns and heads out the door.

As she watched him go, Arella bit her lip to hold back the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Once she was sure the demon was gone, the human sank down to floor, quiet sobs shaking her small frame. All she wanted was just an hour or two out of his time and he wouldn’t even give her that. She had never felt so resented before in all her 21 years of life- not even when her mother was alive had it ever been this bad. Now, as she wiped at her eyes, it really set in that she was left with no other option but to do this alone- gods forbid she ask one of the others for help and then it somehow get back to Lucifer that Mammon wasn’t doing his job. She would never hear the end of it from the greedy demon.

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

The trip to and from the store had gone smooth enough. No demons had really bothered to pay her any mind, not even when she slipped off one of the higher shelves and smacked her head on the shopping cart resulting in the ugly bruise that had formed on the outer edge of her right eye. Bruises were something Arella was used to covering up, so it would be a simple enough task. She only had a little way left to go before she made it back to the House of Lamentation, but nothing can ever be easy for Arella.

Standing at the gates, blocking her path, was a small pack of demons. She had seen them eyeing her up in the halls at RAD during the passing periods. As they turned to her, Arella panicked- her heart rate skyrocketing as her body screamed at her to run. She wanted to but her feet wouldn’t move. It wasn’t until her brain processed that they were moving did her body actually turn to run. By then it was too late, they were upon her in seconds, knocking her to the ground with a tackle as she struggled and let out a scream.”

“Lookit you,” the one she presumed to be the leader smiled as he brushed some of the hair away from her face. “You sure do look tasty. I wonder where we should start first with you... dark or light meat?” He took a hold of her wrist, pulling it toward his mouth. He was about to bite down when...

“Hey! The fuck do the five of ya think you’re doing?!” The Avatar of Greed snarls as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. He had been in a good night after having won nearly all the games he’d played tonight before decided to call it quits- now it was soured. “Ya know what? I’m feelin’ generous tonight, so I’ll give y’all five seconds to get off that stupid human before I gut ya and string ya up by your entrails.”

He only needed until the count of one and a change into his demon form before the pack of demons made the right choice and booked it. The Avatar of Greed let out an irritated sigh as he walked over to Arella and hoisted her up by the arm.

“You’re fucking lucky, ya know that, girly? If I didn’t come home when I did, you’d be dead right now. How are you that damn stupid, huh?”

“’m sorry, I-,” Her voice was small and a little bit slurred as she tried to get her footing.

“I don’t wanna hear any excuses, right now. Just get inside the house go lay down or somethin’- whatever it is that you humans do ta calm down.” He gave her a bit of a rough shove and she scrambled for the doors while he gathered up the bags she had dropped and brought them inside the house.

Arella made a beeline for her room and curled up under the covers. Her headache from the fall earlier was even worse and now her arm was hurting from the strength of Mammon’s grip when he pulled her up from the ground.

“I want to go home....” she sniffled quietly into her pillow. “I should have never done this.”

The human thought she’d find a place for herself on this exchange programme but now she thinks this was all a big mistake. She had no idea what exactly she was signing up for only that something in the back of her mind yelling at her to do so. These last few weeks had done nothing but to serve her late mother’s words as true: that she was trash and so deserved to be treated as such.

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

Out in the kitchen, Mammon is unloading and putting away the groceries that weren’t crushed or broken after the incident outside when he came across a bag filled exclusively with cup noodles. There had to have been at least twenty of them that she had managed to cram into the bag- all in his favorite flavor no less. A look of surprise crossed his face. He had only mentioned this in passing to her once before and he wondered how she managed to get her hands on them as this specific flavor was kept on the top shelf of that section. Not something that would be a problem for someone as tall as himself but for her? She was 4’11”! She would have had to scale the shelfs just to have even the smallest chance of reaching them.

Setting the package of cup noodles he was holding down, Mammon looked to Arella’s door before looking back to the noodles. Again, those questions rang in his head. Just what was her deal? He thinks, she’s always doin’ all these favors for me and never asks for anything in return from me. Well, no I can’t say that... She did ask one thing of me and that was ta go grocery shoppin’ with her because she was afraid ta go alone- for me ta do the one job Lucifer assigned me and I essentially told her ta fuck off. The demon thinks back to their earlier exchange- how he could see the fear in her eyes and the tears that were starting to form right before he left. Great.... Now I feel guilty... I should probably go apologize and see if I can get her to stay quiet ‘bout this whole thing...

Knocking on the door- something the demon hardly ever did- Mammon waited for a response. When he didn’t get one, he just let himself in. “Arella I-!” He stopped as there was there was a noticeable flinch from under the covers.

“I’m sorry!” She squeaked out, “Don’t hurt me.”

He raised an eyebrow at her response. Did she really think he was going to hurt her somehow? Well, all things considered, the demon can’t say he’s really all that surprised. He grabs the ends of the duvet and yanks it off of her, watching as Arella curls up and raises her arms to shield her head as if readying herself for blows that would never come.

Mammon knows that response all too intimately from the times where Lucifer would beat the ever-loving fuck out of him for indulging in his sin.

“Hey, calm down, okay. I ain’t gonna lay a hand on ya like that. Not only would Lucifer have my head, but I ain’t about beatin’ up on girls anyway.” He kneels down at the side of her bed and is horrified to see an ugly bruise marring the skin beside her eye. She does eventually calm down and pulls her arms away from her head after a few minutes of nothing happening. “Atta girl, now look at me,”

When Arella does open her pupils are dilated and now the demon is a little concerned. Humans’ pupils aren’t supposed to be that dilated, are they? That would mean... Mammon fishes his D.D.D. out of his pocket and shines the flashlight right in her eyes.

“What the fuck, Mammon!” Arella recoils as she hides her face once more and Mammon turns the flashlight off. “You’re such an ass!”

“I knew it.” He tsks, “When did you hit your head? Was it when those idiots tackled you to the ground or did you fall off one of the selves at the store?”

“I didn’t hit my head!” The human retorts, “I’m fine, my head just hurts.”

“Ya got a concussion, ya dumb human! Now out with it. Ya very obviously fell and I wanna know when it happened and how high you fell from!” For someone who couldn’t care less about her, he’s surprisingly concerned right now. If she slipped off one of the shelves at the store, he would be in hot water with Lucifer.

“I said I’m fine!” Arella abruptly stood up, swaying as she did, glaring daggers at the white-haired demon who looked up at her with a look of shock. Where did his docile little human go? “And what do you care anyway!? You said it yourself: You hate me and I’m just an inconvenience to you!”

“Now hold on a tick, I never said that exactly. You’re puttin’ words in my mouth. And you’re gonna fall standin’ on the bed like that. You’re already wobblin’.” he may not have said the part about hating her outright but at the very least he heavily implied it.

“Just get out of my ro-” She let out a yelp as she went toppling forward and the demon rushed to catch her. She landed slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“See I told ya you were gonna fall.” He huffed as he readjusted her while she pounded her fists against his back, struggling against his hold on her as he headed back out to the kitchen.

“Mammon, you put me down this instant! I’m not a sack of flour!”

“Stop being a brat and let me help ya!” The Avatar of Greed says as he places her on the island counter top. “Now stay there while I get you some ice for that bruise and some medicine for that headache of yours.”

Arella just sits there in shock of what he said. He wanted to... help her? That was new. She’s drawn out of her thoughts a few minutes later when she feels of bag of ice being pressed against the bruise. She let out a hiss as she tries to move away from it but it’s then that she notices his hand holding the other side of her face so she can’t move all that much.

“Quit squirming, will ya. It’s just a bag of ice.” He looks into her eyes before shifting the bag of ice over and running his thumb over the outside of her eye socket. “Doesn’t feel like anything’s busted in there. Ya got off lucky, kid... here take these.” he has a pill in his hand

“I’m not a kid,” Arella puffs her cheeks out in a pout. “Why’re you doing this when you said earlier that you didn’t care about me...?” she takes the medicine with a swig of water.

“Don’t get it twisted. I’m only doing this because if Lucifer finds out that you went to the store without me, I’ll be hanging from my toes for the next of the week. I’d rather not have a concussion of my own from getting dropped on my head when he decides I learned my lesson.”

“I won’t tell him if you don’t...” she says softly, “You don’t have to be nice to me. I know I don’t deserve it...”

“Huh?”

“N-nothing.”

“Now hold on there,” The demon says as he moves the bag back to where it was before, “You’re not gonna speed past that and act like ya didn’t just say what ya just said.”

“It’s nothing really,” Arella eyes dart around looking everywhere but Mammon’s. “Let’s just change the subject.”

“Alright, you can answer my earlier question then. How did you fall?”

“I slipped while climbing down from one of the shelving units at the store.... and smacked my head on the shopping cart.”

“No offense, but you’re kinda dumb. You were tryin’ ta get those noodles down, weren’t ya? You could have just grabbed whatever was at eye level or in your reach. You would have been an easy meal for a demon if you had passed out.”

“I know,” She sighed. “But that flavor is your favorite and I got everybody else’s favorites. It wouldn’t have been fair to not get yours.”

“It ain’t worth a concussion, short stack.” Once he’s sure she won’t move away, he lowers his hand from the side that isn’t icing the bruise and places it over hers. “Thanks though. And... I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t think you’d actually go out and try to get yourself eaten because I said I wouldn’t care.”

“I mean, that wasn’t my goal,” She sighed. “But I guess that’s the mess I got myself into huh?”

“Ya wouldn’t have if I would have done my job and gone with ya...” He scoots her over and then hops up on the island counter next to her. “I don’t get you, ya know...”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re too nice to me. I’ve been a jackass ta ya but you never seem to let it bother ya. You’re always coverin’ for me when I steal things from the house ta sell and you never said anything after I stole that necklace and other things from you. You save my plate at dinner when I don’t make it right away and you’ve lied right ta Lucifer’s face on multiple accounts for me... why? Why do you do these things?”

“I just wanted you to be nice to me. I know I just kind of got forced on you...  I thought maybe if I extended the olive branch first, we could be at least somewhat civil with each other... but no matter what I did, it didn’t change the way you treated me so I just kept pushing harder and harder to see if maybe...”

“I get what you’re sayin’...” he hummed. “Let’s start over then... I’ll look out for ya for the rest of the year if you’ll forgive me... It would be ta both of our benefit.”

She nodded as he hopped down from the counter. “Alright, let’s go then.”

“Go? Go where?”

“Back ta the store, some of the stuff ya bought got damaged when those demons attacked ya.”

“Oh... Alright... This isn’t some kind of trick, is it? You’re not going to ditch me, are you?”

“Nah, I won’t. And if anybody wants to eat ya, they’ll have to go through me, first. Got it?” he says as holds his hand out to her. She hesitantly took it and he tugged her along after him as they headed out. She hopes that maybe they could even become friends at some point. That maybe- just maybe- this is a turning point for them.

Find more writings on my masterlist

[obxfics]

puppybowl sunday

summary: you spend the day cuddled up watching the puppy bowl

pairing: john b x reader x jj

word count: 1654

a/n: i got inspiration watching the puppy bowl so... here we are lol also when tf is season 2 coming i want more motivation to write and shit please anyways enjoy (also this could technically belong to the “you against the world” universe but also... idk where it would fit lmao so if you want to imagine it like that have at it)

Masterlist

john b groaned as something woke him up. he had been deep in sleep, something he appreciated considering how many late night grocery or food runs he had to do for the residents of figure eight, when he felt someone shift as they laughed. he blearily opened his eyes to see you, sitting up with your back against his headboard and one of his arms flung across your waist, frozen with your hand clapped over your mouth. obviously you hadn't been meaning to laugh that hard.

"what are you doin' up so early?" he rasped, his voice kinda scratchy from sleep.

you smiled down at him and ran a hand through his thick hair, giggling when your fingers got all tangled up in it. "hon, it's two in the afternoon."

he lifted his head real quick and pouted when he saw that jj wasn't included in the cuddle pile. "shit, did i miss jj going off to work?"

"mhm. don't worry, though, i got some food into him and made sure he was wearing his mask. also put the fear of god into him if he didn't wash his hands throughout the day."

john b breathed out a laugh as he imagined you yelling at jj to stay safe at work. almost a year into the pandemic, and jj and john b had spent the whole time quaranting in the chateau to the best of their ability. it had been months since they had seen kie or pope in person for longer than a few minutes, and usually that was only when john b pulled up to the wreck to pick up delivery orders or when jj and john b helped pope's dad with grocery deliveries. at the beginning of everything, you had been spending quarantine with your boys since school was all online and your parents' restaurant was closed. a month or so in, however, regulations had been lifted and the people of figure eight all but demanded for them to reopen, and so you went back home to help your parents with the restaurant and to keep jj and john b safe from anything you could have possibly brought back to them.

you had practically locked them in the chateau, leaving them threatening voicemails if they even thought about going out, but as two months turned into three turned into four turned into five, you realized that the boys needed their jobs as there seemed no end in sight to the pandemic. so jj returned to his job at the country club, and john b got a job busing tables at your family's restaurant. you moved back in to quarantine with them as school started, and you spent practically your whole savings on getting a backup generator and high speed wifi for the chateau so if anything happened, you all would be good. and, despite living through a worldwide panda express, you were quite happy.

beside you, john b shifted his head to rest on your lap so he could see what you were watching on your laptop that had you laughing so hard. a smile grew on his face when he saw the puppies running around on the "football field" and jumping all over the "ref." he looked up at you and felt his chest blossom with warmth at the way you smiled at the puppies and giggled when they flopped over.

"did you really wake me up watching the puppy bowl?"

"hush up," you laughed, "it's a tradition, and you know it. 'sides, you can't tell me you aren't enjoying this as much as i am. i've seen how you and jj get with dogs. y'all may love them more than you love me."

"aw, honey, that's not true," john b cooed. "you know how much we love you. obviously i love you more since i didn't go to work during the puppy bowl, but you know, that's to be expected."

you shook your head and lightly swatted at his stomach. you knew he wasn't being serious. john b loved jj just as much as he loved you, and the feeling was mutual from jj. the three of you had a good thing going, a relationship full of understanding and compassion, and it had taken y'all a long time to get there. you all had things to work through, like jj's daddy issues, john b's abandonment issues, and your trauma from your previous relationship with rafe cameron, but you had gotten through it together, and this quarantine had actually brought y’all closer together which had surprised everyone.

“jj’s gonna be sad that he missed it,” you sighed.

“we’ll just rewatch it with him,” john b assured you. “and we can watch the old ones too.”

there was shuffling as the both of you wriggled around to get into a more comfortable position. at one point the two of you had to lunge to catch the laptop from falling to the floor, but eventually you settled in with john b curled around you and the blankets and pillows providing a sort of nest and elevated stand for the laptop. the room was filled with the soft sounds of puppy barks and whines, and your giggles when one of the dogs did something particularly cute, and john b let out a quiet sigh as he allowed himself to relax against you.

“i think we should get a dog,” you mumbled sleepily as john b clicked on last year’s broadcast. “we can add another cutie to our cuddle pile.”

there was some incoherent whining on your part before you dozed off in his arms. he did his best to focus on the puppies on the screen, but soon he too fell asleep with his face buried in the crook of your neck. that was how jj found you two when he stumbled into the room later that night as he yanked his tie from his neck. he stilled in the doorway, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he saw the two people he loved most in the world all snuggled up together. and then he saw what was pulled up on the laptop.

“oh you assholes!”

the both of you jolted awake, your hand smacking john b in the face as you moved to make sure the laptop wouldn’t fall off the bed. john b rubbed at his eyes and turned to blink up at jj.

“hey, how was work, babe?”

jj shook his head as you rolled over and made grabby hands, obviously asking for cuddles. he put his hands on his hips and frowned down at the pair of you.

“i cannot believe y’all are watching the puppy bowl without me.”

“um... in my defense,” john b started, “they were already watching when i woke up.”

“dude!” you turned your head to scowl at your boyfriend. “jj, baby, come cuddle with us, and we can turn it back on.”

as he kicked his shoes off and rifled around the dresser for comfy clothes, jj shook his head. john b let out a laugh when he realized what he was getting at.

“no can do, babe,” jj told you, smirking at john b as he let his work shirt slide off his shoulders. “the superbowl starts soon, and we’re watching it.”

you fell back on the bed and let out a loud groan. you had been hoping the boys would be too tired to watch the football game. you lifted yourself up on your elbows and glared at the two of them.

“i am legitimately only watching your stupid sportsball for the weeknd. after that i will be passing the fuck out.”

jj laughed and wrapped his arms around you as he flopped down between you and john b. you couldn’t keep your glare on your face when you felt your cheek hit his bare chest. you had missed him all day. there were a few laughs and giggled--and a couples groans of pain--as the three of you got all comfortable on the queen sized bed. finally you and john b sandwiched jj, john b spooning the blonde boy as you nestled in within the warmth of jj’s arms.

“don’t he kiss his kid on the mouth?” you mumbled as one of the players ran out on the field.

a wheeze left jj’s chest as john b shouted his laugh out, causing you to smirk. you had absolutely no clue as to what was happening in the game, or even had any idea as to who the teams were, because like you told the boys, you were only watching for the weeknd concert, and you were getting more and more anxious waiting for it.

“wait, i thought both teams were supposed to be good. why does one team already have like three touchdowns and the other doesn’t have any?”

“honey,” john b said, attempting to hold in his laugh, “just watch and enjoy the game.”

you rolled your eyes, making jj smile fondly. “hon, how am i supposed to enjoy a game i don’t even understand?”

“do you want us to explain?” jj offered sweetly.

“absolutely not. i appreciate it, baby, but i’m too pretty for that.”

jj snickered and pressed a kiss into your hair. “of course you are, babe.”

you nuzzled your nose against his collarbone and tugged your hand from between the boys to gently scratch at john b’s scalp. a hum rumbled deep within the brunette’s chest at the action.

“i love y’all,” you whispered into jj’s skin. “even if y’all make me watch football.”

“well we love you too,” jj returned with a kiss to your cheek and john b’s arm.

“even if you make us watch the weeknd,” john b teased.

“hey! you better appreciate abel or i swear i’m moving out!”

taglist (ahaha heyyy it’s been a while so tell me if y’all want to be removed): @damndunner​ @scandalousfemale @shawnssongs​ @kikifromtheblock​ @write-from-the-heart​ @kurtsconner​ @thatjohnd​ @abbiesthings​ @heavenlymama​ @strangerthanfiction713 @alexis-marrt022 @brithedemonspawn​ @obxsummer​

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Band of Brothers Greetings, Part 2

Cute/charming things thay say when they walk into a room and see you/you walk into a room and they see you

Speirs:

Ok, first off- the moment he walks into a room, any room, he scans to see if you’re there, and if you are what you’re doing. 

He’s always done it, but since things between the two of you have gotten a bit steamy you find yourself catching him doing it ALL. THE. DAMN. TIME.

Like Ronald, you’re vv handsome and smoldery but YOU AREN’T SUBTLE IN THE SLIGHTEST.

Boi’s head is literally on a swivel until he finds you, straight up ignoring the person trying to talk to him until he sees that you’re there before impatiently returning his attention to whatever NIxon is saying (you know, BC OH YEAH not only are we at work but our work is war whoopsies could you repeat that, Nix i was lost in my handsome deathwish prince’s eyes?)

He’s always careful to read your body language to see how you're feeling, and based on that and the context of where y’all are he decides how (and if) to approach you.

His own feelings overwhelm him so it’s easier for him to focus on how you’re feeling

(Weirdly enough, you can read his feelings better than he can read his feelings sometimes.)

You weirdos end up staring at each other for way too long, entire conversations flowing between you two with little more than a lift of an eyebrow and a tilt of the head.

Bill and Babe had a game where they would see who between them could hold their breath through more of yours and Speirs’s weird hive mind-meld, the loser getting two freebies from the other’s rations.

Soon, more people joined in, and one day Speirs walked in while Peacock and LIpton were discussing the formation they wanted the camp set up in and half of the guys simultaneously took a deep breath through their noses to get a lungful of air 

When Lipton looked back out to the group of listening soldiers, he was disturbed to see several of his friends red or blue faced and looking between you and Speirs and each other like a tennis match

One look from Speirs put a stop to that game for a good month.

It only started up again because they saw Ron storm into the med bay and kiss you full on the mouth when you were alone after a soldier had punched you in that nose during Market Garden and left you horrifically blood-soaked and he’d thought you’d been shot.

Then the game turned into who could catch Ron showing human emotions towards you, with more points being given to the more softboy the action.

In an effort to keep THE BOYS™ focused during meetings, you and Ron eventually decided it’d be best to just stand by each other whenever you were in a room together, bc while you both are soft for each other you still get that you can’t be too distracted.

Well, you decided that.

If anything, Ron now has a new favorite game- seeing how long you could stay focused with his fingers running up and down your thigh while sitting together.

He may have slipped his hand beneath your waistband a few times and gotten you off during one of Nix’s intelligence briefings, whispering that you were being so good for him the entire time

and you may have retaliated once by getting him so worked up that he almost came in his pants like a teenager while surrounded by his sleeping men before giving him an overly sweet look before slipping away.

He makes you pay for it later, don’t worry :)

Martin:

MY ANGER BB

SO GLARE-Y, SO FROWN

That is...until he sees you

Then the furrow in his brow softens, and a knowing smile breaks across his face and he either comes to be by you or (a la Bull Randleman) he will raise him arm to show you that there is a you-sized space that needs filling (hurry plz it makes him feel better to touch you.)

He’s not going to show PDA when y’all’re busy- bc he’s good and what he does and you’re good at what you do but that doesn’t mean you can just not pay attention if important info is benign shared. 

If he thinks you aren’t paying enough attention he’ll let you know right away.

Or just glare at the thing distracting you until it eventually relents or someone hits his arm and tells him to stop glaring at the pretty flowers y’n’s looking at they’ll burst into flame and then she’ll be sad

BUt homeboy is not afraid to have you lean against him, or sit in his lap as you both get ready to do whatever it is you have to do.

If the lot of you are just hanging out- he’s much more relaxed, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek or temple before returning his attention to whatever he had been doing- arms wrapping around you as he catches you up on whatever you’d missed

BC HE WOULD WANT YOU TO BE INCLUDED IN EVERYTHING HE DOES (as long as it’s not too dangerous, obvi)

“But John, you’re going on the patrol—!” “Yeah, cause if you’re not going SOMEONE has to make sure these boys don’t get themselves killed. Think it’d be rude to leave them to fend for themselves...”

“But i could go-” “NO you can’t, shut up. Now listen to my plan and tell me what you think…”

He knows how good you are at your job, and it makes him want to be better at his job so he can make sure to be there for you.

I also feel like THE BOYS™ would sometimes be surprised to see Johnny “It may be a bitchface but I’m not resting” Martin being a lil soft with you, and would sometimes stare in shock at the sight of the two of you looking at each other with such open adoration and softness that they’d get a lil mesmerized.

Until either you or Johnny noticed

Then, get ready for the SNARKIEST “Can I FUCKING help you?” glare combo to ever exist ever.

This made me smile, idk

Luz:

GEOOOOOOOOOORGE Luz

My guy (much like Babe) is SO INTO YOU it can sometimes get the both of you in trouble (How either of you managed to keep from getting kicked out is a miracle). 

Luz is also a dramatic little goober, so you know he’ll do something over the top to try and make you laugh (bc, unlike him, you can actually keep it together for more than five seconds whenever you see him)

I’m talking shooting to his feet and standing on his chair and pointing in your direction the moment he sees you (especially if it’s for the first time that day/in a while), putting on a deep voice and an overly serious expression.

“Good God boys, I think we’re in the presence of a GOD. DAMN. KNOCKOUT.”

“WOOH, look at that! Somebody get Roe, cause I’m pretty sure my is about to JUMP outta my CHEST!”

(“You sure you ain’t just hopped up on caffeine and no sleep—?” “Shut UP Perconte, can’t you see I’m trying to flirt with your mother?”)

When you smile sleepily and tell him he can’t talk to your son that way he’ll perk up like a goddamn puppy dog, hop down from his chair and grab the mug of burnt coffee he’d poured for you when he’d heard you greeting Nixon that morning.

He presses the cup into your hand and his smile would soften into the one he saved for you (the one he’d given you after the two of you had snuck out past curfew at Toccoa to put a can of peaches by the door of Sobel’s bunkhouse and nearly gotten caught because you couldn’t stop giggling)

Luz is so obviously a goof but he also would be so endearingly obvious in his adoration of you.

No one would dare tease him about it. George brought so much light and (much needed) distraction from the darkness around them that THE BOYS™ would literally go to the ends of the earth to ensure that the two of you had time together. 

Don’t think about how, after being assigned a (gasp) room with a queen bed and a door(!) he would give you that smile again BUT this time there’d be a lil hint of Trouble in those bright eyes. Don’t think about him swallowing your sighs as the two of you keep each other warm between the sheets. 

But if you do think about it, know that he’s going to whisper the sweetest, kindest things to you the whole time, and yall are gonna fall asleep like teens in a CW show (~in each others armzZz~)

Guarnere:

KING of the dirty wink

Oh my god.

Put that thing away before you get silly and hurt someone

You’ve heard of undressing someone with your eyes (see Liebgott and Nixon (and Ron if he’s feeling naughty shhh)), and you’ve heard of talking someone right out of their pants.

You had never known it was possible to WINK someone into a PUDDLE of feels.

Bill had a whole language of winks and head tilts, but you could be DAMN sure that he knows EXACTLY what he can do to you.

(Because you’re in a position where you’re under a bit more scrutiny than the other men, he also knows that you can’t necessarily reciprocate your feelings as openly as he can.)

DOn’t worry, he’s more than happy to flirt publicly for the both of you

“There she is, fuckin goddess of war herself. Come to see how the toughest, most handsome sonofabitch in the 506 is doin’ this morning?”

“Yeah, Bill. Something like that.”

It’s really cute. 

When you guys are alone, you try to make up for the fact that you can’t openly admire him the same way that he admires you. But Bill won’t hear it- tells you that he’d still think the world of you, even if you called him “the most unhelpful, condescending little shit” you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting

(which you did, after two weeks of constantly being paired up for training in Georgia)

(He’d asked you to marry him the next day, and you’d laughed so loudly and unexpectedly that it startled the both of you. The only thing to shut you up was a bark from Lipton to focus on the combat training, and even then you hadn’t been able to stop your shoulders from shaking)

For all his insistence that you didn’t have to worry about him thinking you don’t share his feelings, he isn’t opposed whenever the mood to show him how much you care for him strikes you.

Take a lil initiative when the two of you are alone and he’s putty in your hands.

BC while he finds your restraint admirable, he’d be a fucking liar to say you dropping the stoicism to get a lil dirty makes him weak.

Everyone else is used to Bill being an open flirt, and they are pretty sure if you had a problem with it you’d make him stop, but that doesn’t stop them from being surprised when Bill had dipped you into an over-the-top romantic kiss when it was announced the war was over (BC LET’S PRETEND HE WAS ALL GOOD AND HEALED UP AND WAS WITH BUCK AT THE BASEBALL GAME OKAY?!).

Speirs had simply held his hand out, palm up while all the guys who’d bet against him paid up

He’d shipped it from day one, but you’ll never be able to prove it!

(YIKES A DOODLE HERE’S PART TWO! Thank you to everyone who responded and liked the first half (major shout out to @mrsalwayswrite for writing my new favorite Liebgott story!) Again, love yall, and may your personal letters never be considered contraband)

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part twenty) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±7600 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 twenty: It’s auction time! Two horses of the Gold Canyon Ranch are up for sale. Will they get the price they are hoping for? Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. 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:  Sold - John Michael Montgomery (Auction scene), Save A Horse - Big & Rich (Jo & Y/N dancing scene), Good Time - Alan Jackson (Dean & Y/N dancing scene), In Case You Didn’t Know - Brett Young (Final scene). Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Prepare for cuteness and a bit of angst! Thank you @kittenofdoomage​, @manawhaat​ and @winchest09​ for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999​, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “Sold! For 3750 dollars to number 48!”

     The auctioneer slams the gavel down on the block, sealing the deal. A sigh of relief falls from Dean and Jo’s lips, who are leaning over the high fence at the auction pen. Almost four grand for an unbroken two year old Mustang is more than a fair price these days. The average numbers have been decent so far, especially considering the current economic depression that is weighing down on the country.  

     Benny leads the young horse out of the arena, him and Dean exchanging a nod, accompanied with a smile. The Gold Canyon Ranch crew is playing it cool, but all are well aware how desperately the cash is needed. It’s not something the whole circuit needs to know, however. Much like any business where money is involved, there are always those who are eager for an opportunity to profit off the loss of others. There are plenty of vultures circling the skies above their potential prey, waiting to take advantage. Dean will not let that happen.

     A new horse is brought in and the auctioneer starts rambling again, announcing prices while assistants scan the crowd for bidders. It’s a vibrant ambience, most people here to make deals, others to have fun. Upbeat country music rallies on the buyers who watch one animal after another come into the pen, judging their conformation, gait and looks before they raise their sign into the air to announce their bid. The small indoor arena is more crowded than one would expect after the market collapsed earlier this year. He notices that Y/N is experiencing some difficulty getting through the mass of people, trying to push past people while transporting three huge burgers.

     “Sorry, got held up, there was a line,” she excuses, handing the fast food to the wranglers.      “You didn’t have to do that, Yank,” Dean returns, taking the large burger in his hand nonetheless.      “Yes, I did. You haven’t eaten, yet. Dig in,” she returns.      Grinning, he moves the welcoming food to his mouth to take a bite. Once again she surprises him with her care and observations. Nothing goes past her, especially when it comes to his well-being.

     Y/N glances at the large display on the back wall where the sold horses are listed. She thought the biddings stalled just under 4000 dollars and the numbers on the screen confirm it. “The price for the Mustang wasn’t bad, was it?”      “Not at all. Dad still has to pay ten percent commission, but he’s gonna be satisfied with almost three and a half grand,” Jo agrees. “If that Pinto sells for good money, you might wanna break it to him that you two are the new Sonny & Cher, before he catches you two lovebirds red-handed.”      With his mouth full, Dean chuckles at the blonde Cowgirl’s remark, which she paired with a perked eyebrow. He lets his free hand slip around his girlfriend’s waist, gently pulling her closer.      “I’ll tell him when we get back on Monday, promise,” he announces, more to Y/N than to Jo. “He’s too busy doin’ business now anyways.”

     Y/N smiles at the assurance, leaning into him. She’s glad Dean is so comfortable with her by his side in the presence of others, but just as important, she’s glad Jo has realized Dean isn’t just fooling around. Her friend has always supported her, but it took her a second to believe her cousin’s intentions are, in fact, good. Her skepticism wasn’t random; she has seen plenty of tears fall for the ladykiller. But those days are in the past now.      “What time is the second horse going up for auction?” Y/N wonders.      Dean checks his watch and glances at the horse currently in the pen, who is carrying a tag with ‘204’ on it. “He’s number 211, so he should be up in twenty minutes or so.”      “Think Benny will manage?” Jo checks.      “Yeah, he has plenty of time to switch them. Let him make himself useful, he’s not riding any horses this weekend anyway,” the head wrangler grins.

     The crew members finish their quick meal, the three of them now leaning over the fence while watching the exciting auction. The burgers are delicious, fresh off the grill from one of the many food stands, topped with cheddar and crispy bacon. Quality greasy event garbage, but Y/N wouldn’t want it any other way. Usually she tries to eat healthy, keep her body nourished for  the hard physical labor she puts into her work. During shows, however, she always lets go. She knows that she can’t swallow a bite before her runs, not with the nerves always closing off her throat and having her stomach in knots. But staring down at the big, juicy burger in her hands, she just dives in; figures it’s better to stash up on carbs before her big day than to fall short.

     Twenty minutes later, Benny leads the Pinto into the auction pen. The horse looks magnificent, his white patches washed clean and the fur that’s black shining under the limelight. His mane, detangled and brushed, cascades down his well formed neck, reaching his shoulders. The stallion is stunning, getting a reaction from the audience.

     “Alright, y’all, this is quite the looker we got here. We present this two year old Pinto stallion, owned by the Gold Canyon Ranch. A tall fella which stands at sixteen hands, strong enough to carry a big Cowboy around the competition arena. Sired by Cash Button, well-known APHA champion producer. As you can see he’s haltered, but unbroken, so if you’re lookin’ for a fine show horse to start fresh with, this is the one for you.”

     Dean is glad to hear that the auctioneer does a good job promoting their horses. The speaker can make or break an auction, so he’s thankful the organization hired a skilled one.

     Somewhat nervous, Dean sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble as he takes in the traders on the bleachers. Jody managed to buy Sundance, despite the huge interest in the mare. She paid a whopping fifteen grand for the talented barrel racer, who stayed at the top of the rank and scored Jo the first win of the competition. Now that the Mustang switched owners for a reasonable price as well, a big stack of cash for the Pinto would really bring the ranch back in the clear… for now. Dean is aware that it will take more than one good day to nurse the company back to financial health again, but it would be a good start.

     “Opening bid is 2500 dollars, so let’s get this bid started, people. 2500, 2500 for the gentleman on the front row. Can I get a 3000?”

     The auctioneer begins his bid calling, the rhythmic repetition of numbers and words adding to the tensed atmosphere. It’s a fast chant that engages the crowd and brings a sense of urgency on the possible buyers. But no matter how hard the speaker tries, the biddings slow once they near three grand, nowhere near the number they hoped the stallion would sell for.

     “Last chance to become the new owner of this stunning future prospect, folks. 3500 dollars now, will you give me 3750? Going once…”

     “C’mon, c’mon,” Dean mutters, drumming his thumb on the wooden fence.      Y/N watches the mass of people, but she can’t see any new signs popping up. It couldn’t possibly be that the Pinto will go for less than the Mustang, even though he’s worth more?      “Did Bobby arrange a reserve?” she checks with Jo.      Her friend shakes her head, glancing at her with worried eyes.      Y/N now shifts her attention to her other side, taking in the head wrangler, noticing the frown edged on his forehead under the brim of his hat. He’s radiating tension, much like Jo, all three keeping their eyes on the $ 3500,- on the screen. It’s not enough, but it might be the amount they will have to settle for.

     “Going twice…”

     “Four thousand!”      All three perk up, trying to make out where the bid originated from. The distinctive voice is easily recognizable though, the woman’s strong accent hard to miss; it’s Donna.      “Four grand, ladies and gents! Do we have another bidder? 4250 dollars, 4250 anyone?”

     Out of nowhere, another number is raised into the air, one of the assistants pointing at the bidder and shouting back a ‘yup!’ at the auctioneer.

     “We’ve got 4250 dollars now, 4250. Can I get a 4500?”      “Five!” Donna calls out.      “Five grand! Do we have 5500?”

     And there you have it, a bidding war. Dean exchanges a look with Jo, who smiles as the bids keep going back and forth like a tennis match, the stakes taken higher every time the ball is bounced back. Y/N watches in anticipation, getting more excited every time the amount that is about to be paid for the Pinto grows larger.

     “Seven and a half grand. 7500,- dollars. Is bidder number 24 gonna raise? You tell me, young lady. For 7750 dollars this gorgeous stallion can be yours. What do you say? 7500 dollars, going once...”

     The rancher with Minnesota roots seems to hesitate, discussing her next move with Jody, who’s seated next to her on the bleachers. After a few nerve-wrecking seconds, Donna keeps her sign down; they can’t go higher, but she took it high enough to make this a successful auction for Bobby Singer.

     “Going twice… Sold! To lucky number 7 for 7500 dollars!”

     The audience applauds the entertaining battle, Benny making a little fist, modestly celebrating the good sale as he walks the horse out of the pen. All the members of the Gold Canyon Ranch family know it; this is a much needed win.

     Unable to contain her elation, Y/N reaches for Dean’s hand, entwining her fingers with his. It draws his attention and he glances aside at her, his green irises full of delight. The worry has dissolved from his eyes, the weariness gone for a moment. Today is a good day; they can let their guard down for a little while.

     “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but with three horses sold and Jo winning the barrel race, I believe we have reason to celebrate!” Y/N says cheerily, looking between Dean and her best friend.      “Hell to the yeah! I think I deserve a drink,” Jo agrees victoriously.      “Come on then.” Y/N grips Dean’s hand tighter, nudging him to follow. “Let’s hit the bar.”

     “Does everyone have a drink?” Y/N checks, looking around to make sure everyone has either a glass or a beer bottle in hand.

     The Gold Canyon Ranch crew is standing around a barrel that serves as a high table, accompanied by Donna and Jody. A live band, consisting of a drummer, a banjo player and a singer who also plays an acoustic guitar, treats the attending guests to a great show. Strings of lightbulbs are connecting the steel frame that keeps the high tent up, its canvas lit with alternating colored spots. The bartenders have to kick it up a gear to keep up with the demand, people waiting to place their order on all sides of the horseshoe-shaped counter. Riders, trainers, horse owners and spectators are laughing, dancing and having a good old time. Nothing today would suspect that business isn’t as usual.

     Dean enjoys the carefree feeling and raises his bottle, joined by his workers and his boss. Even the grumpy old man lifts his IPA into the air, a sparkle back in his uncle’s eyes that he hasn’t seen in a while.      “Alright, y’all. Let’s congratulate Jody Mills here with the purchase of a future champion. Glad to do business with you as always,” he starts, giving the short haired ranch owner a nod, “and of course we raise our drinks to my Joanna for the win.” He throws his daughter a subtle but proud smile, before he turns to the rest of the crew. “Thank y’all for pitchin’ in and for all the hard work.”      “To the Gold Canyon Ranch,” Benny adds, clinking his glass against those of his colleagues and friends, who repeat his words with a cheer.

     Being on the opposite side of the table, Dean takes the opportunity to move his hand to the small of his girlfriend’s back, letting it rest on her hip, knowing Bobby won’t be able to spot it. He presses his fingertips into the denim, meeting her gaze as he takes a good swig of his drink.

     It doesn’t take long before his uncle is dragged away from the fun by a horse trader, without a doubt stealing his time to negotiate about other horses Bobby plans to sell. As Dean predicted, he will be too busy mingling and so Y/N is delighted when her boyfriend leaves an affectionate kiss on her temple. She closes her eyes and smiles at the sweet gesture, counting her blessings. With every touch, every look, the nervousness dissolves a little further.

     When she entered the tent earlier, she felt her heartbeat quicken and her mouth running dry. She’s well aware Dean is easy on the eyes, because she has caught herself getting lost in the image of him more times than she can count, but now it wasn’t just her who noticed his looks. The handsome cowboy made plenty of heads turn, a few women greeting him with a flirtatious ‘Hey, Dean’ as the group passed through the crowd to find a spot. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, her boyfriend’s reply to them stinging sharply in the pit of her stomach, even though he was only trying to be polite. It’s not just jealousy that has her lose grip. It’s worry, because she feels intimidated by all the girls that seem to throw themselves at the wrangler. They are all beautiful, stunning looking women, vibrant and confident. More beautiful than me, the insecure voice in the back of her mind once again reminds her.

     He noticed the uneasiness, able to read her body language better each day, and he tried to reassure her the best he could with Bobby still being in their presence. Now that the owner of the Gold Canyon Ranch has moved away to do business, she’s glad Dean instantly rose to the occasion to pull her closer and let her know who he belongs to.

     “Want another drink?” Dean asks, not just his girlfriend, but the other people in his company as well while he takes the ranch’s credit card from his wallet.      Y/N notices the slight hint of hesitation in Jo’s expression before she answers, and she reckons it has something to do with the ridiculous prices on the venue, a beer being seven dollars. Four bucks might not sound like much, but when you start buying rounds, the money to be paid at the bar adds up. That card already got declined once today, and both she and Jo  don’t want Dean to deal with the same embarrassment the youngest Singer had to go through at the show office earlier.      “This round’s on me,” Y/N decides, digging up her own card from her back pocket.      “You don’t have to do that,” he objects under his breath, trying not to let his pride slip through.      “I’ll be glad to,” she counters quickly, not taking no for an answer, turning to the others. “Another beer? Jody? Donna? Glass of wine?”      Eagerly, Jo and Benny look up, completely in sync with the two women who they share the table with, all nodding at the offer, all nodding at the offer.

     “At least let me pick up the drinks then?” Dean offers before she gets up from her seat, not too keen of his girlfriend paying for him, but knowing that determined look in her eyes well enough to not go against her.      She agrees on the compromise with a sigh and gives him her card. “Three beers, two white wines and a coke for me.”      “No margarita?” he checks.      “No, sticking to the one. I have a ride to win tomorrow,” she explains, adding a smug smile.      Dean chuckles at that before he turns around, heading for the bar.

     Y/N takes a second to watch him walk away, wondering if she did the right thing. She doesn’t want him or the ranch to pay now that she knows they are low on money while she has plenty, but Dean seemed bothered. She gets it, the man is supposed to pay for the drinks, but this is the twenty-first century; she is just as entitled to pick up the bill as he is.

     “Y’know, you don’t have to keep savin’ us,” Jo comments, making sure that Donna and Jody, who are having a laugh with Benny, can’t pick up on the conversation.      “It’s okay, Jo,” Y/N assures. “It’s the least I can do. I don’t mind at all.”      “I know you don’t, but he might.” She nods at her cousin. “It’s a guy thing. My Dad’s the same way, you should have heard him when he found out you paid the fees because his card didn’t work. Old fashioned country boys seem to think the weight of the world is theirs to carry.”      The intern sniggers, hiding her concern. “Well, those country boys need to learn that us girls can take on that weight just fine.”

     She glances to the bar again, expecting her boyfriend to return with a tray of drinks, but when people move away and no longer obstruct her view, her breathing hitches. Y/N spots Dean casually leaning on the counter with his elbow, talking to a girl. The young woman is all smiles, raking her fingers through her wavy, blonde locks, the light above the bar shining down and highlighting the chemistry. She looks stunning; slim figure, long legs wrapped in torn jeans, exposing skin of her knees and thighs. When she leans forward while laughing at something he said, her cleavage is on display.

     As  the color drains from Y/N’s cheeks, Jo follows her friend’s fixated stare, her face falling when she notices the two by the bar. Dean doesn’t cross a line by any means, but it’s clear that the woman who took an interest in the head wrangler has every intention to persuade him.      “Who is she? You know her?” Y/N asks, the questions rapid and laced with worry.      “Yeah, that’s Jamie Sward,” Jo states.      “Please tell me it’s not one of his exes?” She rips her eyes away from the painful sight, shielding her face in embarrassment.      “‘Ex’ wouldn’t be the right word, but yeah, they did have an on and off thing in the past,” Jo admits carefully, not wanting to lie to her. “Sis, it’s fine. He’s an idiot, but he’s not that much of an idiot. They are  probably just talking.”      “Her breasts are hanging out of her shirt!” Y/N hisses frustrated, blood rushing to her face now, a contrast to her pale skin tone mere seconds ago.

     “So…” Jamie says, taking a sip from her drink while looking over her glass at the handsome wrangler. “What are you up to these days? Still working at Gold Canyon?”      “Yeah, kinda became furniture of the place. Don’t think I’ll ever leave to be honest,” he chuckles, watching the bartender preparing the drinks he ordered. “What about you?”      “Oh y’know, worked a few bars in Phoenix to pay for college, sulked over the fact that you stopped calling me,” the beautiful blonde returns, the smirk that accompanies her perked eyebrow telling him that she’s not too broken up about it.

     “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” he rubs the back of his neck, well aware that he ignored her messages the past month and a half.      “Don’t sweat it. We weren’t dating. Just having fun, right?” Jamie shrugs casually, setting down her drink again. “Talking about fun, I have a room at Days Inn if you’re interested.”

     The offer hangs in the air and it’s only now that Dean realizes he’s on thin ice here. When the blonde cowgirl approached him, somehow it didn’t dawn on him where the conversation was heading towards, simply because he’s not interested in her in the slightest. Ever since he met Y/N, he can’t bring himself to give a damn about any other woman, and Jamie is no exception.

     “I’m uh - I’m gonna have to say ‘no’,” he says, almost apologetic, not wanting to hurt her feelings, because she is a sweet girl. “Doesn’t have anything to do with you. I met someone and things have been really great--”      “Wait. Are you taken?” she interrupts, astonished. “Are you serious? You’re in a relationship?”      He nods, unable to stop a beaming smirk from showing. “Yeah. She’s awesome. I don’t get why everyone acts so surprised, though.”      “C’mon, Dean Winchester. With your reputation?” Jamie snorts. “But hey, no hard feelings. I’m happy for you.”

     She means it, he can tell. He gives her an appreciative nod as the bartender sets the last two beers on the carton tray, which Dean picks up from the bar.      “Right, I’m gonna get back to my girl. Good to see ya again, James,” he says before he leaves.      “You too, Dean. Good luck tomorrow!” she says cheerily, giving him a little wave before she heads off herself.

     With a content smile on his face, the head wrangler returns to the table. It’s only after he has given everyone else their drinks and sets down the Coca-Cola bottle in front of his girlfriend that he locks eyes with her and notices the stale, yet anxious look on her face.      “What is it?” he wonders.      “Jamie seemed awfully friendly,” she comments, fidgeting with the straw of her drink to have something to focus on.

     Dean lifts his head slightly as his jaw lowers. He tries not to roll his eyes and pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Right, that conversation might have looked a little different from a distance than how it actually went. The penny drops and he turns to face Jo and shoots her a glare. The fact that Y/N has learned the name of the woman he’s been talking to gives away that his cousin apparently revealed more than he would have wanted.      “Okay!” Jo takes her cue and clears her throat, deciding that this would be a good time to exit the conversation. “I’m gonna request some songs to dodge the awkwardness. Have fun, you two.”      The ranch owner’s daughter quickly sneaks past Dean towards the dancefloor, heading to the stage. Before Dean speaks, he glances aside to make sure the others won’t pick up on their conversation. Deciding that he wants some more privacy, he takes Y/N’s hand and beckons her to come with him to an empty booth on the side.

     “Y/N, listen. I don’t know what Jo said--” he starts, before she cuts him off.      “- Jo has nothing to do with this. She was actually defending you. Don’t tell her I told you that.” Y/N sits down on the bench next to him, knowing that her best friend wouldn’t be happy with Dean knowing that she actually did something nice for him. God knows he will hold it against her.      “Jamie and I were just talking. Yeah, we hung out a couple of times, but I don’t feel anything for her. Hey…” He takes her hand, squeezing it softly. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m serious about us before you start believing me, huh?”

     He watches her take a breath, contemplating on what to say and on what to feel. Sure, a part of him gets it that she’s not a fan of the women who throw themselves at him. He didn’t like it one bit when Benny took an interest in her either, shutting that down immediately. Still, it hurts, because deep down he knows she assumes he will fall out of line.      “I believe you, it’s just that…” She exhales, shaking her head while she doubts herself more by the second. “I don’t believe the girls who have their eye on you have only good intentions.”      “You don’t have to worry about Jamie. She’s cool. And considering other flings and what not; it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what they want from me, because I know what I want for myself, and she’s sittin’ right beside me,” he tries to assure her, slipping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer. “You’re the only one I have eyes for, Yankee.”

     She looks up from under her lashes, his soft voice slowly beginning to ease her anxious mind. Dean casting those negative thoughts away only does one thing, though; it makes room for a different kind of self loathing.      “God, I’m such a bitch…” she says softly, rubbing her face with her free hand.      “No, you’re not. Don’t say that,” he dismisses, not wanting her to be so hard on herself. “But I need you to trust me.”

     Y/N eyes dart up to his, stunned, realizing that her behavior might have hurt him more than he’s letting on. He avoids her eyes, trying to mask the harm her actions did, but even in the dim light she can detect the damage. Of course she trusts him. She trusts him and Jo more than anyone on the ranch, yet it came across like she didn’t. Damn it, she could kick herself in the head right now. Jealousy isn’t a good look on her, neither is self-consciousness, but sometimes she can’t help but to feel intimidated and overwhelmed. He needs to know that it’s not his fault, though.      “Dean, I do trust you,” she promises, lacing her fingers with his, hoping to sooth him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t.”      He turns to look at her, allowing his thumb to rub over the smooth skin on the back of her hand. Despite her efforts, he can’t quite shake the feeling, but she doesn’t have to know that this bothers him more than it should. And so the corner of his mouth pulls up in a small smile as he looks deep into her eyes, and kisses her softly.

     The intimate connection brings more peace than they both expect. They have that effect on each other, that instant calm washing over with a small touch or a sweet kiss. It’s during moments like these that the insecurities lose their proof, the sources that are the patronizing and condescending voices in their heads suddenly unreliable.

     After a few peaceful seconds which silence his troubled mind, Dean moves his lips from hers, glad to see that the kiss worked the same wonders for Y/N. Her warm eyes look up at him when she leans into his chest.      “So we’re okay?” she checks, needing that confirmation.      “We’re okay,” he promises, leaving a kiss on her hair.

     The music changes, the lead singer persuading the attending guests to move to the dancefloor. As people leave their seats and gather, Jo emerges again and grabs her beer from the barrel table, carefully testing the water before she approaches the couple.      “Is the coast clear? I come in peace.” She holds up her hand innocently.      “Everything’s good,” Dean states, not just aiming at the bond between him and his cousin.      “In that case, can I steal your girlfriend?” Jo asks. “This is such a good song and I for one wanna dance!”

     Y/N’s face lights up, fueled by the blonde cowgirl’s contagious smirk. Before she slides out of the booth, though, she shares a look with Dean.      “Go, seriously. Have some fun,” he encourages.      “You’re not coming?” she wonders.      Dean scoffs. “Hell no!”      “Oh, come on!” Y/N tries again.      “It’s no use, Sis. Dean doesn’t dance. Not good for his John Wayne reputation,” Jo nags, taking her best friend’s hand to pull her to her feet.      “Wranglers don’t dance. They ride,” Dean defends, aggrieved.      “Alright, tough guy. You go stir in your own juices while you miss out on all the fun.” His cousin twirls around, dragging Y/N with her before she can change her mind.

     The most horrible and yet catchy country song ever made sounds from the amplifiers, ‘Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy’ covered by the band that is rocking it out on stage. A fiddler clad in a charming saloon dress like the women used to wear in the old West has joined them, adding spice with the crisp sound of her instrument.      Trying to get her best friend out of her funk, Jo pulls Y/N in the lines that have formed, without missing a beat getting into the choreographed series of steps that every cowgirl knows by heart. Laughing, Y/N joins her, getting the hang of the dance quickly.

     Dean has stood up and joined Jody, Donna and Benny at the barrel table, nursing his drink as he watches his Yankee dance it out. He lets the tension flow out of his chest with a deep breath, the ache melting away with the sight of her. The colored lights flick over her features in the same rhythm of the music, her hat hanging between her shoulder blades by the stampede string. Forgetting the troubles for a moment, she copies Jo’s motion, who pretends to rope a lasso above her head as she makes a circle, while shouting out the words back to the lead singer when he points his microphone to the dancing crowd. It makes Dean chuckle.

     “Well, that seems too jolly to miss out on,” Benny decides, holding out his elbow for Jody to hook her arm through. “Can I have this dance, darlin’?”      “Benny Lafitte, always the charmer,” the woman with pixie hair comments, but takes his offer, leaving just Donna and Dean.      They watch their friends, both with a pleased smile on their lips. It’s quiet for a while between old companions as they take in the carefree portrayal.      It’s the head wrangler of the Gold Canyon Ranch who eventually breaks the silence. “Thanks for the save.”      “What save?” Donna returns, pretending to be oblivious.

     He can see by her mischievous smirk that she’s well aware what he’s talking about; her bid on the Pinto at the auction. Donna never intended to buy the two year old stallion. She and Jody spent fifteen grand only an hour prior to the sale, and especially during current times, Dean can’t picture the girls spending another 7500 dollars on a second horse. He knew the moment Donna raised that sign; she was doing them a favor and drove up the price.      Dean throws her a knowing look, his eyebrow perked, triggering Donna to drop the act.      “That Pinto is a hell of a good horse. Would’ve been a good buy,” she grins. “If only I had done the final bid.”      Grinning, he takes a swig of his beer. He appreciates the help, knowing that the two female ranch owners will not spill the financial secret to anyone else in their circle. It’s safe with them, and he considers himself lucky to have friends like that. Everyone needs a hand sometimes, and he’s more than glad that Donna and Jody offered theirs in time of need.

     “Anyhoo, I’m gonna join the girls for a dance off. You should join us for a change. I’ll bet your belle would love it,” the broad-smiling woman suggests.      “She’s having plenty of fun without me,” he sniggers, watching her belt out the lyrics to the song with Jo.      “Okeydokes. But you’re missin’ out, handsome.” Donna winks at him, heading to the dancefloor with a spring in her step.

     Dean watches the cheery woman from Minnesota go, but his focus soon darts past her, immediately captured by the sight of Y/N. Damn, they could shut off the power and she would still light up the room. He can’t keep his eyes off her, the familiar swell of his heart once again taking up so much space that it’s hard to breathe. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, not anymore. It used to terrify him, feeling something so strong for a woman he’s known for such a short amount of time. But now when he feels it, it just strengthens his fondness and devotion for the girl who he wishes he had met years ago. Maybe he could have saved her the heartache that has her self-conscious about her place with Dean. Maybe his track record wouldn’t be so long that she would question him. He’s willing to do anything to make up for that time, though.

     As Jo and Y/N dance in circles around each other, clapping their hands and laughing, her gaze meets Dean’s. She’s caught off guard by the adoration in his eyes, his smile so warm and affectionate, that she slows her step. The good-looking cowboy she gets to call hers just stands there by himself, adding action to his words. He’s watching her as if she’s the only girl at the party, like she’s the only girl in the world.

     Y/N breaks away from her friends and steps towards him, swaying her hips a little more than she usually does. She shook the concern that weighed heavy on her earlier and got her footing back. A cheeky smile plays on her lips and her eyes sparkle, telling Dean instantly she’s up to no good.      When she reaches her boyfriend, she takes his forearm between both hands and pulls at it. “Come dance.”      “I don’t dance, Yankee,” he refuses, not budging.      The music changes to a new song, triggering cheers to rise from the small crowd. The new rhythm has her eyes go wide, then pleading.      “Oh, come on. This is a good song to move to!” Y/N begs, using all her strength to shift his tall form.

     He stands his ground, surprised at her physical strength, but the stand off is as much for his own sake as for hers. If he lets her go, she’s gonna land flat on her ass, but Dean spares her the embarrassment. The cowboy sighs, not that fond of being at the center of attention anyway, not to mention on the dance floor in this big tent. But how the hell is he going to say ‘no’ to her?      “One song,” he complies, strict on the conditions.      She jumps into the air excitedly and the delight in her eyes is already worth it. He adjusts his grip and laces his finger through hers, walking towards the dancing group of people, their friends amongst him.      Jo’s jaw drops to the floor when she notices Dean on her tail. “How the hell did you manage to drag his sorry ass over here?”      She wiggles her eyebrows. “I can be quite persuasive.”

     Her cowboy catches her by surprise when he tightens his hold on her hand, raising it and spinning her. When she comes full circle he pulls her in again, slipping his arm under hers and smoothly transitions into a two step. Completely flabbergasted, she grabs his shoulder and stares up at him with big eyes. Whoa, where the heck did that come from?      “I thought you couldn’t dance!” she giggles, while he leads her across the dancefloor, not missing a step.      “Never said that,” he smirks. “I just said I don’t dance.”      “Well, you’re dancing now,” Y/N returns, delighted.      He chuckles at that, looking deep into her eyes. “Only because the most beautiful girl at the party asked me.”

     They nail the routine, even though they’ve never teamed up on the dancefloor before. It’s not a complicated choreography, a simple one-two mixed with some country swing, but apparently it looks impressive enough to earn a ‘yee-haw!’ from Benny.      Y/N glances aside when the others rally them on, clapping in the rhythm of the song from the sideline, making room for the couple. Jo gives her two thumbs up, clearly entertained by the unexpected turn of events. She can’t stop her smile reaching from ear to ear when Dean twirls again, not missing the same expression on his face.

     The fiddle and guitar work together in harmony, throwing in a variation during the bridge of the song. Having her a little closer than at arms length, his right hand on her higher back, his left hand holding hers out to the side, they continue to move from one end of the open space to the other swiftly. The cowboy is enjoying himself, even though he was being a grump about dancing earlier. How can he not, now that he’s a witness of the pure joy his girl is radiating?

     The drummer finishes the song with a ruffle and the music dies down, the band receiving applause from the attending party-goers. Beaming, Y/N looks into Dean’s emerald green eyes, which sparkle every time the spotlight hits them. Dean was right; she’s having a blast, just like he predicted.

     Not ready to admit that he doesn’t really want to stop dancing with Y/N, he glances at the musicians, waiting for the next song. He narrows his eyes confused when he spots Donna, who got the attention of the lead singer. The young man has crouched down at the edge of the stage, Donna whispering something in his ear. Dean can see him nod in agreement before he rights himself and grabs the mic stand.      “Alright, y’all. I got a special request for a ballad just now. We’re gonna perform an original, so take your lady to the floor. Time to take things a lil’ slower.”

     He puts away his electric guitar and picks up the acoustic one, plugging it in. A romantic tune coming from the speakers when he strums the strings. Questioning, Y/N glances up at her boyfriend, almost sheepishly. Dean agreed to one song, which had a totally different vibe to the music that was sounding right now. The wrangler has been nothing but wonderful and sweet with her, but she doesn’t expect him to openly show how much he cares about her, especially with Bobby still present in the tent.

     But against the odds, Dean moves his extended hand that was still holding hers closer to his chest, letting it rest there. Gentle fingertips press into her skin as they sink to the small of her back, encouraging her to come close. He looks at her, the playfulness dying down and replaced with something deeper, something even more profound.

     I can’t count the times I almost said what’s on my mind, but I didn’t.      Just the other day, I wrote down all the things I’d say, but I couldn’t.      Baby, I know that you’ve been wondering.      So here goes nothing.

     Comfortable in his arms, Y/N lays her head against his chest, the soft thump of his heart beat and the slow swaying motion calming every nerve that was ever there. She couldn’t feel safer, more sheltered than in this very moment. Right now, she’s the only girl in the world. She couldn’t care less that she’s in the limelight, that everyone is a witness of the bond between them that’s strengthening each day. In fact, she feels proud. Dean stepped on the dance floor, just for her. He is showing a side of him not many are familiar with, just for her. If this doesn’t prove that he’s her man, and no one else's, nothing will.

     In case you didn’t know, baby, I’m crazy ‘bout you.      And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you.      Even though I don’t tell you all the time,      you had my heart a long, long time ago.      In case you didn’t know.

     Careful not to stand on her feet and ruin the moment, Dean continues to slowly sway her from side to side. Softly pressing his cheek against her hair, he shuts his eyes for a second, storing the memory amongst the other precious recollections. God, this feels beyond amazing.

     When he opens his eyes again, his gaze travels over the faces watching the pairs in front of the stage. Tensing slightly, he notices Bobby, who watches the two slow-dancing. His uncle shoots back a judgemental glare, seemingly not too pleased with the fact that there’s more going on between the supervisor and the intern than he originally thought. The head wrangler looks back guilty, grimacing awkwardly.

     “What is it?” Y/N wonders, apparently feeling him stiffening.      “I think we’ve been made,” Dean whispers in her ear, dipping down his head slightly.      “Bobby?” she assumes, concerned. “What should we… Should we stop?”      But Dean shakes his head, not caring about the ranch owner at this point. He’ll get over it, and if there was ever a right time to tell the old man, today, after the wins they so desperately needed, would be the day.      “Keep dancing,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss against her hair.        Y/N eases, leaning into him again, the space between the two decreased to the minimum. A breath slips from her lips, the air warm against his chest, even through his shirt. He can smell her shampoo lingering in her locks, mixed with her scent that’s so unmistakably hers. Slowly but surely, everything about her is becoming familiar, yet there’s not a single aspect of the woman before him that he takes for granted.

     The way you look tonight, that second glass of wine. That did it.      There was somethin ‘bout that kiss. Girl you did me in.      Got me thinking. I’m thinking.      One of the things that I’ve been feeling, it’s time you hear ‘em.

     Listening to the words, feeling the music reach his soul, he can’t help but to evaluate the thoughts that cross his mind and the emotions that leave him vulnerable. He knows he’s beyond falling in love at this point, but even if he could, he would never want to go back. Y/N is what he never knew he needed, yet it stuns him when that three word sentence settles on the tip of his tongue. He can’t tell her, though. Not yet. The way he’s holding her right now, how he softly leans into her, is the closest he can get to actually saying it out loud. God, he hopes she knows. Dean silently promises that one day he will tell her. One day.

     In case you didn’t know, baby, I’m crazy ‘bout you.      And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you.      Even though I don’t tell you all the time,      you had my heart a long, long time ago.      In case you didn’t know.

     The cowboy pulls back slightly, dipping his chin to establish eye contact again. The kindest smile awaits him, her beautiful orbs glazed over with emotion. She’s not sad, though, quite the opposite. She’s moved. No one has ever made her feel this whole. This is the true definition of happiness, being in his arms, him looking at her like he’s doing so now. Their noses brush when Dean leans in, then he moves his mouth to hers and captures her lips with his. The kiss is soft and slow, just like the music, just like the dance. But of all the intimate moments they shared so far, this has to be the greatest one yet. The thought swirled through her head before, but in this very moment, she is sure: she loves Dean. More than she ever thought she was capable of.

     You’ve got all of me.      I belong to you.      Yeah, you’re my everything.

     In case you didn’t know, baby, I’m crazy ‘bout you.      And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you.      Even though I don’t tell you all the time,      you had my heart a long, long time ago.      In case you didn’t know.

     From a distance, the company of four watches the couple. The dim light coming from the strings of lightbulbs above the dancefloor falls over them like a soft blanket, the spots by the stage illuminating their silhouettes. The vision before them is the definition of romance, one that silences the normally so chatty personalities on the sideline.

     Jody and Donna sigh collectively, swooning at the sight.      “I can’t...” The blonde ranch owner swoons. “I can’t with these two.”      “They are so good together,” Jody agrees, endeared.      Jo nods, proud of her friend, and secretly also of her cousin. “Gotta say, never thought I’d see it happen. If he can settle down, there’s still hope for all of us.”      “You guys can thank me with a beer,” Benny sniggers, his eyes not leaving the pair either.

     His comment earns a look from the three women in his presence. The farrier is about to move a beer bottle to his mouth, but pauses the action when he feels their eyes burning in the side of his head, demanding an explanation.      “Who do you think talked sense into the bastard and told him to get his act together, huh?” he brags, taking a sip of his drink.      “Who do you think told him to never let go of that girl and that he better put a ring on her finger?” Jody says, earning impressed nods.      “Who do you think requested this song?” Donna bounces back victoriously.      “Well then,” Jo holds out her bottle, waiting for the others to join her in a toast. “To the matchmakers!”

     Jody is the last one to raise her wine, her eyes not leaving the sight before them. “To love,” she adds.      The four agree to that, clinking their glasses together. After all, it’s what life is all about. Friends, family and that one person you’re going to share the rest of your life with.      They repeat her wise words with abandon. “To love!”

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-one here

[zpwrs]

     [looking at the person that was currently finishing up before him, ZIP kept going over his major points to hit on before hearing his name being announced. clearing his throat in an effort to fight off the usual nerves that stemmed with public speaking, he approached the podium that he was to stand behind. adjusting the mic up for his height, he offered a slight grin, waving at the crowd.] wassup, south central? i’m uh, ZIP POWERS. and i run VIP down in long beach. and i’m here to talk to y’all ‘bout what it means to be a business owner out here.

what tips do you have for beginning business managers?

do what you want. you have a vision and there’s a reason you started your business. for me, it fell in my hands. i’d been down there my whole life, seeing what my granddad was doin’. how he was a positive influence in the community, and got to establish himself doing what he loved. and when i stepped up to the plate, i kept going off of that. i wanted to keep what he established, but then advance! so it ain’t really one-dimensional, i feel. having a vision. you gotta know your brand, but you also gotta be ready to advance, you know? gotta be ready for the future is how i see it.

what are some ways that you can reinvent your business or add on to it?

well for me, it was a matter of bringing VIP to the 21st century. and i mean, in certain aspects. we been known for having quality merch and a good experience when you come down. but for the studio, it wasn’t gettin’ as much traction as i wanted it to. so, i updated the equipment, and made sure to promote that. instead of waiting for folks to come to you, go to them, you feel me? like, you gotta let it be known, aye, we here. lemme know what i can do for you.

do you believe that its the CEO’s job to keep the business afloat or is it the work of everyone?

damn, this actually a loaded question. i mean, at the end of the day, it’s everyone’s job. but if the business goes down, you gotta look at the captain, you know? ion believe in that hierarchy shit in terms of day to day operations, personally. and i understand every business can’t run like that. but i try to be there when my staff needs me, and we got a lil’ family down there. we help each other when it’s needed.

what are the keys of becoming a successful business mogul in SC?

be involved. never stop promoting your business, i feel. it’s a special place out here. so much history and a lot to look forward to, so i say help yourself and be on that wave. and you also gotta be willing to invest in the community you in, whether it be through giving back or spending yo’ money in other local businesses. that builds up your network and shit. and you ain’t got shit if you ain’t got no network. and i guess the corny thing to say, even though it’s true; believe in yourself. if you don’t stand behind your brand, your idea, why would anyone else? you gotta be confident out here, man. ‘cause the community will ride behind you, but if you don’t show them you worth it, they not gonna front.