Blood in the Breeze: Ch 16 (Into the Void)
Parts one and two of this series linked.
Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.
Summary: Fynta and Aric still have some things to work through. Verin offers some brotherly advice (and violence). And the council, once again, regrets every decision that led them to where they are.
Chapter Word Count: 3,402
Chapter Rating: T
Characters in Chapter: Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Theron Shan, Zolah Holran, Lana Beniko, Shillet Jorgan, Verin Ejnar-Wolfe
Author’s Note: Whole chapter under the cut. Better formatting on Ao3.
The Thunderclap
Leaving Nathema
Aric glared at the gleaming box on the edge of his desk. Strange that such a menacing device could look so innocuous when Aric picked it up. He didn’t know why he’d pilfered the holocron, or what he planned to do with it, only that it felt important. An idea niggled at the back of Aric’s mind, roosting there until it could reach maturity.
“Did you hear me?” Aric leaned back in a desk chair that might as well have a permanent impression of his ass. Shillet waited on the other side of his comm, black eyes glaring into the camera. He saw the accusation. Aric had interrupted whatever she’d been working on, but couldn’t be bothered to keep his attention on the conversation he’d started.
Scooping the datacron into a drawer, Aric gave his daughter an apologetic nod. “Sorry, kiddo, what was that?”
The teenager in question rolled her eyes, then went back to painting her toenails. Shillet had grown into a woman overnight, filling out in ways that made Aric uncomfortable with so many young men on the base. She’d also taken to wearing makeup and doing things like painting her nails. Not for the first time, Jorgan wondered if there was a boy involved, but he was too much of a coward to ask. Maybe he’d comm Elara to see if she knew anything.
“I said ‘how did it go?’” Shillet leaned forward to blow on the wet paint. “You weren’t out of contact as long as I expected.”
Was that disappointment that Aric heard in his daughter’s voice? “Missed the target,” his gaze slid towards the drawer, “made some interesting discoveries, though.”
“That’s good, then, right?” Shillet screwed the cap on and fanned one hand over her feet. “It’s better than nothing, at least.”
Aric started to answer that he didn’t know. That he might have found a weapon or a shield, but wasn’t sure which way to wield it or who to tell. Fynta had wanted to blow the thing up, so she probably wouldn’t approve of him removing it from the vault. All Aric knew was that it was important.
“And I’ve lost you again.” Shillet sighed.
“I’m still here,” Aric grumbled, then sat straight when the door to their room opened and Fynta swept in. “So is Fynta.”
The woman waved, then tapped the side of her head to let Aric know that she was on another call. She’d been in near continuous contact with Odessen discussing what had been discovered on Nathema. Everything from Vaylin’s tortured childhood and the strange absence of the Force, to the world shaking dread that came with realizing that Vaylin’s full potential had been unlocked.
“We need those numbers, Theron.” Fynta ended the call, then learned over with a grin. “You look nice. Any particular reason?”
Jorgan clenched his jaw to keep from growling and tried to be invisible for fear that Shillet wouldn’t answer if he drew attention to himself. Shillet flushed a deeper shade of green, and Jorgan saw red. He didn’t need this added stress on top of everything else and contemplated finding a reason to ground the girl until he got home. He’d definitely need to speak to Elara.
Fynta slid into Jorgan’s lap, looping one arm around his neck while he sorted through the boys Shillet’s age on base. “How was the movie?”
“It was fine, stupid actually.” Shillet crossed the room to put her supplies away, calling out to the comm she’d left behind. “I thought I might help unload the ships. A bunch of kids work there on the weekends for school passes.”
What’s his name, lingered at the back of Jorgan’s throat, but Fynta answered instead. “Take Tranx and Zula. Those two have been going stir crazy.” Fynta’s smirk turned devious. “I think Torian does some maintenance there too.”
“Torian,” Jorgan heard himself say before he could stop it. A sense of relief washed over him at the knowledge that Shillet’s crush was on a man who would never take advantage of her. Not to mention, the Mandalorian chief was head over heels for Fynta’s pet Jedi. Once more, Jorgan was struck by the startling realization that he trusted Mandalorians with his most precious people than anyone else.
Fynta carried on without acknowledging Jorgan, but Shillet dropped her head enough that a couple of tendrils fell across her face. “Listen, if it’s a boy’s attention you’re after, you’ve got to show them that you’re serious.” Fynta nudged Jorgan with a grin. “Blow something up.”
Jorgan stood, dropping Fynta onto the floor from her perch on his thighs. She laughed, and Shillet did her best to hide a smile. Jorgan ignored them both. “On that note, please don’t take dating advice from Fynta.” He avoided any mention of motherhood. Neither woman took the insinuation well, and he didn’t want to upset the comfortable rhythm that they’d found.
Fynta cupped her hands to her mouth, amplifying her voice while still sitting on the floor. “It worked on your father.”
“Okay.” Shillet dragged the word out and leaned forward. “I’m going to go eat dinner. See you when you get home.”
The call ended, and Fynta met Jorgan’s glare with a bright smile. “What? She knows that I was kidding.”
“Does she?” Jorgan held out one hand, pulling Fynta upright with a grunt. “What if she believed you?”
“It was a joke, Riduur.” Fynta patted Jorgan’s cheek and stepped away. “She’s practically an adult, and you and Elara raised her well. Give the girl some breathing room.”
Jorgan clenched his fists and followed, looming so that Fynta knew that he was serious. “She’s thirteen, that’s not an adult.”
“It is by my standards.” Fynta turned to open one of the drawers and began counting ammo magazines.
Jorgan hadn’t intended to lash out, but before he understood his own actions, his fingers were wrapped around Fynta’s bicep, and she stared wide-eyed into his face. “Shillet isn’t Mandalorian.”
Jorgan knew the growled words hurt. He wanted to regret them, but he couldn’t. Still, he should have chosen a better way to say them. “Fynta—”
“You’re right,” Fynta interrupted, placing her hand over his. Jorgan’s fingers loosened under the unspoken threat. He hadn’t gripped her hard, but Fynta wouldn’t tolerate being handled in such a manner, nor should she.
Lifting his hands, Jorgan let go of his wife and stepped away. “I’m sorry.”
“I will never push anything you are uncomfortable with.” Fynta touched Jorgan’s cheek again, but it was fleeting. “She’s your daughter.” And like that, the familial moment shattered.
Fynta put space between them, and Jorgan didn’t feel right about closing it yet. With a sigh, he plopped onto the bed and ran a hand over his head. “I don’t want to fuck this up anymore than I already have.” He chanced a glance at Fynta, waiting until she met his eyes. “Any of it.”
Fynta dropped the magazine she’d checked back into the box, then knelt in front of Jorgan. “You and I, we’re always good.” She pressed a quick kiss to Jorgan’s lips. “And, Shillet is a great kid.”
Again, Fynta pulled away before Jorgan could reply. Her nails scraped over his scalp as she headed for the door, towards her escape. “I’m going to check on Verin, he took a nasty knock to the head. See you in a bit.”
“I’ll be here,” Jorgan answered, but his wife was already gone. With a snarl, Jorgan flopped onto the bed and glared at the ceiling. With everything he cared for close by, why did Jorgan still feel like his world was falling apart?
The Thunderclap
En Route to Odessen
Conference Room
“How about a drink, Fyn’ika?” Verin pressed his palms into the table across from where Fynta stared through a holomap. She was parsecs away, lost in a way he’d seen before. She blinked, focusing on him through whatever thoughts occupied her attention. Verin flashed a crooked grin and lifted a couple of dark bottles. “Come on, vod’ika. I smuggled in some netra’gal.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that on the way to fighting the voidspawn?” Fynta leaned across the table to snatch one of the Mandalorian specialties and twisted the top off by brute force. “I could use a decent drink about now.”
Spinning around one of the deck mounted chairs, Verin straddled the seat and watched his sister. “So, are you going to tell me what’s really going on, or do I have to drag it out of Jorgan?”
Fynta lowered her drink and rubbed her eyes. “The old bastard is talking again.” She tapped her temple. “He’s scared of Vaylin, and was not happy about our trip to Nathema. And, I’ve got this headache from hell thanks to all of the Force suppression stuff. I can only imagine how Lana feels.”
Verin propped his elbows on the chair back and settled in to let his sister talk herself in circles. Fynta didn’t disappoint. She spun her bottle in a lazy circle on the table. “I’d hoped that Arcann would join us, but he’s not confident in his ability to resist Nathema’s pull. Probably a good thing now that I’ve been there.” Without warning, Fynta thumped her head against the table. “And, Aric’s mad at me again.”
“Why now?” Verin asked, taking another sip. He let the sweet liquid warm him from the inside, steeling his nerves for the tough conversation to come.
“Mostly because I’m osik around kids.” Fynta gestured around the room without lifting her face from the table. Her words were muffled against the false wood polish. “It’s one of the rare moments when we can’t see eye to eye on anything.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask how that was going?” Verin expected some hiccups while Fynta tried to find her place in Shillet’s life, but the pushback from Aric surprised him. Verin supposed some things couldn’t span the gaps between their cultures. That had never been a problem for them because they hadn’t planned on having children. The galaxy had a way of turning people’s plans inside out. Verin knew that better than most.
When Fynta looked up, it was with a violent shake of her head. “No, we’re not doing that.” She chugged the netra’gal, then smacked her lips. “New topic.”
“Okay.” Verin took a drink, dragging the silence out to let the annoyance drain from Fynta before continuing. “What’s happened since Darvannis?” She’d had the coveted lust for life then. She fought and loved and laughed. Perhaps she still did, but it sounded hollow.
Fynta shrank into herself, knees curling against her chest and chin propped on them like when she was just a skinny kid. “You gave me Cinlat’s haalas gaid, armor that she lived and died in. Of everything learned from her time among Mandalorians, that was the only part that she truly loved.” Fynta offered a wry smile and tipped her head in Verin’s direction. “Apart from you.” The old sting of loss surfaced, but time had dulled the effect.
Verin didn’t interrupt. He could see that Fynta was building to her point, but had taken the long way around. Letting out a breath, Fynta plopped her chin back on her knees and hugged them closer. Once again the little girl from that night so long ago when it became just the two of them against the galaxy.
“I’m not Mando’ade anymore, Verin.” The words felt like a blow to his stomach. He wanted to argue or snort in disagreement, but made himself stay silent. If he spoke too soon, she’d shut down.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Fynta continued. “The Resol’nare is as close to a religion as we have. How many do I follow? Speaking the language, sure. Wearing the armor, I am now thanks to your gift. I’m bred to fight, but I won’t answer the call of the Mand’alor.” Fynta snorted. “Shab, she answers mine. And Shillet...I can’t force that decision on her. Not when her father is Cathar.”
Verin nodded. “Have you two discussed it? Shillet, I mean.”
Shaking her head, Fynta seemed to remember the beer in her hands and drained half the bottle in one pull. Sighing, she smacked her lips. “We’ve tiptoed around it, but Aric being her father doesn’t make me the girl’s mother. She’s got Elara for that. The woman raised that child. I’m...a friend. Shillet respects my authority and no longer believes that I’m a danger to Aric’s happiness, but it’s different.”
Fynta shrugged, then drained the rest of the bottle. “I’m not a Republic soldier, not a Mandalorian, not a mother. What am I?”
“You’ve forgotten the spirit of mandokarla. Life fluctuates, and we evolve. Are the ones who are forced into the ba'slan shev'la less Mando’ade than the ones who remain in society?”
“No, but—” Fynta’s eyes narrowed when Verin snapped his fingers.
Leaning back, Verin laced them behind his head and grinned. “You’re overthinking it. It’s not always all or nothing. We work with what we’re given.”
Fynta sighed. “Yeah.” Verin leaned forward and smacked her on the back of the head. She snarled a curse while rubbing it. “What the hell?”
“Enough pity. Time to get back into life, Fyn’ika.” Verin dodged her response with a laugh. “You’ve got a husband and a daughter. Whatever happens with them is up to you, but it won’t turn out well if you don’t get back into it.”
Fynta snorted and muttered an insult under her breath, but her eyes weren’t dull anymore. She stood and checked her wrist chrono. “Shab, I’ve got another meeting. Thanks for the drink, ori’vod.” Verin nodded, lifting his bottle in salute while she headed towards the door. Fynta stopped, speaking without looking back. “Hang around for a bit, if you can.”
“I get to sleep through the night here,” Verin chuckled and made a show of settling into the cushions, legs kicked out and feet on the table. “I’m not giving that up without a fight.”
Odessen
War Room
Images of broken tanks and derelict walls floated in the center of the table. The conference room was full to bursting, with senior members in the chairs while those who came in later positioned themselves around the walls. Fynta stood towards the back, having seen Nathema in person. Murmurs drifted through the air, but she had heard it all before.
“The question now is what to do with this information.” Lana waved a hand, pausing the holo on the image of destruction left by Vaylin’s escape.
“Is it relevant?” Zolah asked. The woman had her menagerie of men surrounding her, each wearing a furrowed brow specific to them. When every eye turned on the Chiss spy, she gestured at the image. “Whatever power that place had over Vaylin is broken. Does this information serve as anything beyond telling us that she is not only psychotic, but no longer leashed?”
More murmurs. Fynta had theories, but she wasn’t ready to share them. Aric stood stiffly at her side, his fingers flexing around an invisible object. Fynta would need to look into whatever was troubling the Cathar later. For the moment, she counted down the time her presence was required before it would be rude to slip away.
“You’ve been ignoring me.” Valkorion stood at Fynta’s side, startling a curse from her. The old Sith smiled in his demure way and nodded at the image. “Did you learn anything of…value?”
For whatever reason, Valkorion had been unable to follow Fynta into the vault that protected her small party from Vaylin’s wrath. It had left her chilled, as if the ghost of Valkorion was a separate heat source instead of cold death. Fynta had learned plenty in those sprawling catacombs, and none of it surprised her.
“Only that you’re as bad of a father as you are a benevolent ruler.” Fynta folded her arms and refused to look at him.
Valkorion sighed while the meeting carried on around Fynta. She was surprised that the old bastard hadn’t stopped time again. “Vaylin needed to be controlled.”
“She was your kid,” Fynta snapped. “As far as childhoods go, that was one of the shittiest I’ve ever seen., and I’ve seen some bad ones”
“You aren’t considering a charity case, I hope.” It took Fynta a few seconds to realize that Lana’s barb was directed at her. When she glanced to her right, Valkorion was gone.
Instead of trying to explain that Fynta hadn’t been talking to the collected group, she rolled with it. “Of course not. Mad dogs need to be put down.” Lana gave a quick jerk of her head, but Fynta wasn’t done. “Let’s keep in mind that this is a child who never grew up. Valkorion kept her chained in agony for years. It’s no wonder she went insane. Whatever our course of action, let’s make it quick and as clean as possible.” With that, Fynta pushed away from the wall and walked out. She was done with meetings and talking circles around a problem that none of them knew how to deal with.
As expected, Aric fell into step at Fynta’s side. “You feeling sorry for her?”
Fynta lifted a shoulder. “There’s not a lot standing in between Vaylin and any one of us ending up just like her. A push in the right direction, and we all go feral.”
“Not everyone.” Aric bumped Fynta’s shoulder, and she forced a smile so that he’d know she appreciated his faith in her. Valkorion hummed in the recesses of Fynta’s mind. It felt like a fly buzzing around her head, the melody too quiet to pick out, but she knew it was there.
Shillet waited at the door when Fynta and Aric got home. The smell of food hit Fynta’s stomach like a punch, but it was Aric who voiced their mingled surprise. “What’s all this?”
“Dinner,” Shillet answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. Which, Fynta supposed it was. The Nautolan girl skipped to the table where an assortment of meats and vegetables that didn’t normally go together waited. She offered a wide, sharp grin. “These are the only things that I know how to make.”
“It looks good,” Aric laughed while ruffling the girl’s head tresses. Fynta made a mental note to teach her a few Mandalorian staples to sneak into her father’s meals.
The night carried on in companionable conversation. Fynta finally let herself relax long enough to invite Cormac, Tayl, and Elara over for a few drinks. The kids vanished into Shillet’s room, leaving the adults sitting around the table like old times. Fynta heaved a steadying breath and told herself that Vaylin could wait until tomorrow. Tonight was for family.
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hey what’s up what’s going on. sorry about this. so anyway big brother reo who wants to share you with his treasure and best friend nagi sooooo badly. you haven’t given into reo yet more than loaded glances you take when you think he isn’t watching you (he’s always watching you) and awkward moments when he’s practically cornering you; you’re too busy for that, clearly, always with some new boy that obviously isn’t good for you (no one will ever be good enough for you to reo). still, you get along with nagi really well, treat him sweet and dote on him and fall asleep on his shoulder on the occasion you both knock out on the couch. it’s cute! makes reo’s heart sing and dick twitch! he knows nagi would probably agree that they should share you but for all of two seconds he’s hesitant about it — what if nagi says no? or gets upset? or wants you all for himself instead? reo doesn't know what hed do. but something changes that — your new boyfriend, he fucking sucks. the worst one out of them all, not kind enough to you, not spoiling you in the way you deserve. it’s when you leave the house in the middle of a hangout with reo and nagi because of a fight with him that reo hears it — nagi, voice soft as ever, still focused on the game on his phone, “they could do better than that”, and it’s like reo’s entire world gets a little bit brighter. and when you come home, tears lining puffy eyes, they’re there to comfort you and show you just how much better you could be treated 💜 your boyfriend doesn’t have to know anyway.
Bambi……………. Putting this in my inbox is nothing but sick and twisted of you ..
Subject of my Adoration
Stepbro!Reo x gn!reader x Nagi
MINORS DNI
cw: incest, slight "somno" (reader thinks reo & nagi are sleeping, they are not), short pwp, reader has no pronouns/no body descriptions but has painted nails mentioned only once briefly, reo & nagi makeout, reader is a bit of a spoiled brat and a little annoying about it but it’s all Reo’s fault and he loves it, dark content - don’t read if you don’t like !
“He’s just so… so…” a sob gets caught in your throat as tears boil over and spill down your cheeks before you can finish your thought.
“I know angel, I know. It’s okay, we’re right here.” Reo coos softly onto the top of your head and leaves a kiss, Nagi humming in agreement against your back.
Your boyfriend sucks, same with all the other ones if you were to ask Reo, but this one really sucks you swear. Who texts their date at 2 in the afternoon, “be there at seven, wear something nice ❤️”, just to take them to the movies?
Losers, that’s who.
You wore your absolute best (you know you did because Reo told you all about how lovely you looked for your big night out up until the moment you left), had him rub the sweetest smelling body cream you owned onto your skin for what felt like hours just so you could smell your best through the entire night, and you even made Nagi help pick a new color for your nails (and help paint them too of course).
All for some cheesy action flick that was more blood, guts, and guns than dialogue. There was barely even any kissing.
What a loser. How dare he waste your time like that?
Naturally, it was all tears and whines the minute you walked through the door, Reo’s warm arms wrapping you into an embrace not seconds after.
Now you’re here, cuddled up nice and close between the pair on the couch, crying into Reo’s chest all about how stupid and awful and lame this guy is.
“Poor thing, huh Nagi?” His friend hums again, continuing to rub your sides softly and leave the occasional peck onto your clothed back.
You squeeze yourself closer into them and inhale deeply, letting their combined scent wash over you and comfort you the way they’d want it to, the way they hope it does.
Sleep begins to make your eyes struggle to stay open, and your body feels so warm and heavy, but Nagi’s continuously wandering hands and Reo’s random, soft kisses and gentle shushing is making your stomach stir. You move to adjust your position on the couch but find yourself stuck and unable to properly move between them. Not on your own at least.
“Something wrong, angel? Are you not comfortable?” Reo speaks softer to you like he’s making an effort to not wake Nagi, but you know he’s not sleeping with the way his grip gets slightly tighter on you.
You let your eyes wander across his face before you shake your head and bury yourself back into him, into them.
Why can’t your boyfriend be like him? Reo knows you so well; knows how you should be, rather how you need to be taken care of. He’s so tender and caring with you, taking the time to make sure you’re only feeling your best. And it’d help if they were as handsome as him, too.
The familiar twist in your stomach comes back, pulling and churning until you’re squirming in your spot again.
“C’mere.” Nagi sighs quietly, moving and readjusting with Reo’s assistance until his leg is slotted between yours and Nagi’s, arms wrapped around you both as Nagi engulfs you from behind. You’re sure Reo isn’t fully on the couch anymore, but before you can suggest moving to a more comfortable place to rest, you feel how warm and thick his thigh feels between yours. That in itself isn’t surprising, but the way you throb against him is.
You feel like you can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t think.
“Better?” Nagi’s breath on the back of your neck nearly makes you gasp, when did he move up so close?
He’s so warm.
You nod, unable to bring yourself to speak, and hope they’re feeling the same lull of sleep you were just a few minutes ago.
Moments pass and the quiet grows until you’re sure they’re resting, the steady rhythm of their deep sighs persuading your body to rest itself.
But the pulse between your legs and heat from Reo’s thigh won’t let you.
You bite down on your bottom lip hard as you try to find a less intrusive way to lay with them both, but it’s only making it worse. The friction and pressure pulls a sigh from your lips.
There’s no way you’ll be able to move without waking them up and asking them to, which isn’t an option. There was no decision or request you could make without getting an onslaught of questions from Reo. You don’t mind of course, you know he only wants to understand the things you need so he can be there for you without you needing to ask next time, but how would you be able to explain this?
You could never get away with lying to your big brother, he’d see right through you. And you don’t want to.
Thick yearning is growing heavy in your stomach.
Their breathing stays steady, and you’re a little shocked your wriggling hasn’t made either of them stir.
You feel sick as a thought passes your mind, but you swallow the thick nausea quickly creeping up your throat and remind yourself that Reo wouldn’t want you uncomfortable. He wouldn’t want you to be hurting like you are now. And Nagi wouldn’t either, Reo wouldn’t be best friends with someone who wouldn’t want the best for you.
Relief comes as you start to rock your hips gingerly, your body instantly hot from the embarrassment and pleasure.
Reo’s shirt bunches up in your fist. You’re gripping onto him harder than you probably should be, but you need him so bad. Need him to hold you and tell you how it’s all okay, how he’s here so there’s no need to fuss, you know your big brother will always be there to take care of you.
Your core starts to burn from the careful way you’ve been moving your hips, and you’re getting tired, but you’re not close enough yet. You need to finish but you’re struggling more than you’d like to get there.
Your level of frustration (sexually and just from the events of today) becomes more apparent as the familiar feeling of tears pricks at your lash line.
God, why did you have to be such a crybaby?
Reo's shirt feels soft against your cheek as you lean in and let your hips relax, abruptly deciding to give up on your earlier efforts. You press further into his chest attempting to soothe yourself (and wipe your face) with the soft and expensive fabric while you sniffle. He's warm. And he smells so good.
This isn't helping.
Before you can fully shut your eyes and get comfortable, gentle and familiar hands previously resting on your waist slide down to now sit on your hips.
"Angel,", Reo's soft voice hums against the top of your head, "is there something you need?"
You feel your heart race at the sound of his voice. When did he wake up? Did he ever fall asleep? Is Nagi still awake, too? What would you say to them, what could you say?
You crane your neck to look up at him with wet eyes, contemplating what to say. His eyes look heavy, but not tired, not exactly. Just... focused, you could guess.
Too many moments of silence pass as you try to think until a growing dread begins to bloom in your stomach.
You could never lie to your big brother. You couldn't even try.
You nod your head haltingly but turn your eyes down to stare at the wet patch from your tears on his shirt.
What else is there to say to him besides yes, you need him.
Without hesitation, the same familiar pair of hands grip your hips tighter, beginning to wiggle you back and forth on the soft meat of his upper thigh.
Reo always knew what you needed without having to ask.
The pit of dread blossoms into a thick yearning, and you let the small smile of relief that comes stay on your face, Reo would want to know you're feeling good. You can never hide that from him, that's your one rule.
Always be honest about your happiness with me, because how else will I learn to take care of you?
"You still awake, Nagi?"
A hum between your shoulder blades and a gentle pinch to your sides serves as his response, effectively pulling you out of the foggy haze overcoming you, and instinctively making you jump.
Taking that as the okay, Nagi's own large hands rest over Reo's, letting him see how you like it best. You look down to watch the way they're both gripping you, how good Reo is at teaching Nagi the right pace, all while Reo was learning himself, too. Nagi's hand caresses his friend's, his fingers rubbing along the tops of Reo's absentmindedly.
"Reo, do they like to be kissed?" Your face gets hot at the implication and the way Nagi speaks about you like you aren't in the room, all while still staring right at you.
Without saying a word, one of Reo's hands slides away from your body to tug his friend by the chin towards himself gently, regaining Nagi's attention quickly before slotting his lips between his. You can tell they've done this before from the seamless way Nagi exhales and slides his tongue into Reo's mouth, like he's been waiting for the same relief you have.
"Mhm,", Reo hums as the pair pull apart just far enough where their lips still brush as he speaks, "they do, just like that."
You say nothing as Nagi's big eyes stare into yours, letting him adjust and get closer until you're engulfed by him.
His tall, wide frame encompassing yours as he kisses you slowly. He's more gentle than you were expecting, more careful, taking his time to taste you without making you feel so intruded upon.
You feel like you're on fire. Everything is hot and stuffy, Nagi's spit mixing with yours as two pairs of hands roam freely across your body, no longer caring where they travel to.
As wrong as the voice in the back of your mind kept telling you this was, nothing was louder than the growing ache between your legs. The one you knew Reo could quiet. At least temporarily.
All you need to do is ask.
"Reo."
His eyes roam across your figure.
"Shh, I know."
Warm fingers sneak between yours and Nagi's bodies, intertwined, to rub you where you need him most. You breathe a soft moan into Nagi's mouth.
"There you go, Reo. Looks like they like that." Despite his choice of words, he almost sounds like cocky. Like he knows Reo knows you're feeling good, he just likes saying it.
He continues to kiss you, moving until Reo can reach you more comfortably, kissing down your neck until your thighs start to shake and attempt to clamp shut. You didn't realize how pent up and close you already were.
Your lips feel cold as Nagi pulls away, the whine close to spilling from your lips swallowed by Reo as he leans down to take his spot, groaning lewdly at the feeling of what it's like to finally kiss you.
Nagi watches you come undone. He twitches at the way you sigh and tug at Reo, rolling your hips into his palm and mindlessly repeating thank you as you catch your breath.
"It's my turn now, right?"
——————
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mp100 is a very very kind show, i love how compassionate it is and how forgiving it is, but i also love how hard it hammers in that there’s no such thing as a perfect person with endless bounds of patience and forgiveness, and that living your life only to please others isn’t living much at all.
the confession arc is very special to me for this reason, and below the cut is some analysis as to why! obviously, this contains spoilers for all three seasons of mp100.
the confession arc takes mob, this very kind loving sweet person who’s compassionate and has been able to see good in and treat with kindness people like mogami, touchirou, etc, and tells you... hey! this kid actually has (reasonable) building resentment and unresolved issues from being constantly people-pleasing and forgiving and not really acknowledging peoples’ flaws!
and no, it’s not a case of mob having this evil dark side who hates everyone, it’s just a case of mob... being human! expecting him to brush off the way reigen treats him and the way he and teru met and the danger to his life shou and touchirou were, as compassionate and mature as he is about them, isn’t realistic! because no human person is just a walking well of love and forgiveness, and for as mature as mob is, he’s still only a kid!
mob, as ???%, is very violent towards teru and reigen, and i choose to interpret this as how intensely he’s repressed his unresolved resentment for them that he swallowed down in favor of forgiveness and being the bigger person - the wider theme of mp100. we never really see mob express any discomfort around teru for nearly killing him, or around reigen for lying to him and generally treating him like trash sometimes, or around shou for burning his house down... and while i can’t express enough how important the messages of compassion and forgiveness are in this story, i think it’s also equally important to see, in ???%’s rampage, it’s not some evil side of mob or some shadowy separate personality in his body who’s deciding to hurt teru and reigen, it’s mob himself, because he never unpacked his conflicting emotions towards them, and now, when he can’t control himself, they’re running wild.
and this isn’t me saying teru and reigen are horrible people who never earned mob’s forgiveness. of course not! they’re very important people to him, he cares for them a great deal, they help to bring mob down from his violent episode... but as we hear in the mogami arc...
mob, kind as he is, isn’t some all-forgiving, forever-loving kid, and the same goes for his relationships with others. he cares about teru as a friend, he has resentment towards him for what he did that he never unpacked until now - these things coexist!
and there’s the ultimate catharsis when reigen tells the truth about himself, revealing to mob that he’s a complete liar who’s been using and exploiting him from the beginning. he lied to him from the day they met, and those lies ultimately led to the disaster in seasoning city that we’re seeing now. it was mob’s honest belief that reigen was a strong, powerful adult who had everything figured out -
- that led to him being unable to accept the contradictions within himself, and so reigen laying those bare, the fact that he’s a liar and an exploiter, that he too, this person mob has admired and learned from for the whole series, has a part of himself he hates for how it thinks of other people, is what’s able to let mob finally accept himself.
reigen being a liar doesn’t make him an evil monster who deserves nothing but mob’s resentment - and in turn, mob destroying the city and trying to kill his friends doesn’t make him a violent, hateful murderer. it makes him and mob flawed humans, whose relationship couldn’t ever have healthily continued if those things weren’t unpacked - if reigen never honestly confessed about who he was, if mob kept forgiving reigen without looking inward to ask how he felt. at best, it would have been shallow and dishonest for them both until the end, and at worst... well, mob wouldn’t have been able to repress his emotions, dangerous as they are the more he hides them, forever...
this is why the scene of mob breaking down and crying is so important to me. finally, he feels safe expressing ugly, crude, selfish emotions. until now, when we see mob cry, it’s either tasteful tears running down his face, not changing much of his actual expression, or the complete opposite direction in exploding and bawling his eyes out with 100% sadness and 100% rejection - either mob’s emotions are pretty and subdued, or soul-crushing explosions he has no control over.
(sidenote: 100% rejection is one of the coolest explosions in the series to me and i wish it was talked about more!)
now, though, with the reassurance that he can cry, full-on cry, and it won’t hurt anyone, that he isn’t some selfish evil for being a middle school boy devastated he got rejected by his crush, that he’s allowed to feel broken up and miserable and have it not be an explosion that destroys the city... he cries! he feels all those negative emotions he’d held back, and because he feels safe expressing them, they’re not dangerous at all, they’re just... again, a middle school boy crying because he got rejected by his crush.
mob’s emotions, on their own, aren’t dangerous. it’s his refusal to express them, and the violent outbursts that leads to, that is.
something i love so much about mob psycho 100′s ending is that it’s not an ending at all. it’s just the beginning - finally, after three seasons, mob can actually feel and safely express his emotions. he can be on even footing with teru, reigen, all of them. he can start balanced, open, communicative relationships with those around him, showing that the compassion mp100 preaches goes far deeper than simply forgiving those who hurt you, or giving people chances.
mob’s kindness is so, so, so important to me, and where season 2 was about extending kindness to others, culminating in mob sitting down with touchirou after deciding that letting him die alone would only have been needlessly cruel and reinforcing the man’s worldview that he needed nobody, and that extending kindness towards him was what he needed to properly change - season 3, culminating in mob confronting the parts of himself that may have wanted to leave touchirou behind, is about extending kindness to yourself.
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