#had a blast writing this one

[vergeltvng]

Es gab da jemanden, einen regelrechten Ordnungsfanatiker, der es jedes Mal kaum erwarten konnte den Dreck seiner Kumpanen wegzuräumen, tagein, tagaus. Er mochte Aufräumen so unbeschreiblich gern, dass allmählich seine Zornesfalte sich nicht mehr restlos glättete sobald er versuchte ein halbwegs entspanntes Gesicht aufzusetzen. Schwieriges Unterfangen, denn er fühlte sich ohne Unterlass hauptverantwortlich für seine Leute. Und sein Fimmel für Ordnung war leider auch kein ausgefallenes Hobby oder Kink, sondern er tat es zwanghaft. Ohne ihn wäre bald alles zerstört oder würde lichterloh in Flammen stehen. Im wahrsten Sinne des Wortes sowie im übertragenden. "M.M." Die wandelnde Zornesfalte, seines Zeichens Marvin T. Milk, wandte den Kopf ein Stück in Richtung Beifahrersitz. Der Anblick des bärtigen Kläffers sorgte nicht unbedingt dafür, dass sich seine Gesichtszüge entspannen wollten. "Da vorne isses. Lass mich an der Ecke raus, ich schau mir den Laden alleine an. Du checkst mit Hughie im Hotel ein, und der Rest von euch weiß auch was er zu tun hat, aye?" Wenn Blicke töten könnten wäre er jetzt von der Rückbank aus zweifach erstochen worden. Die berüchtigten BOYS unternahmen also einen kleinen Betriebsausflug, inklusive Vollpension mit vorbildlichen Arbeitsbedingungen. Und das Betriebsklima erst! Sie befanden sich hier ja praktisch in der Wüste. "Ihr guckt alle drein wie drei Tage Regenwetter. Lächelt doch mal 'n bisschen, das wird die Party des Jahres. Viva Las Vegas, ihr Muschis." Der Riesenköter verabschiedete sich von seiner Truppe mit einem Grinsen, in das man reinschlagen wollte wenn man nur lange genug unter seiner tyrannischen Fuchtel stand. Nachdem er ausgestiegen war, rauschte der von ihnen gemietete, dunkle Van mit quietschenden Reifen davon und Butcher legte die letzten Meter zu diesem besagten Tattoo-Shop zu Fuß zurück. Er hatte sich für seinen ersten Vegas Besuch sogar ordentlich rausgeputzt, sein heutiges Hawaiihemd mutete extra Porno an: Saftig grüne Palmenblätter, hellblaue Wellenmuster, Kokosnüsse und leuchtend pinke Flamingos auf zeitlosem schwarz. Sein restlicher Aufzug war wie üblich, halbverschnürte Boots, enge Jeans, sein markanter Ledertrench. In der Manteltasche hatte er einen makellos gefälschten Ausweis der Feds bei sich, für den Fall, dass er ihn benötigte. Er würde hier gnadenlos dieselbe Nummer durchziehen wie damals mit Hughie wenns sein musste. Aus der Nähe drang Musik aus einem der Gebäude dumpf durch die Straßen. Klang nach Privatparty irgendwo. Nachdem er um eine Ecke bog machte er die Quelle der Lärmbelästigung ausfindig. Gleichzeitig der Ort wo er hinwollte, wenn er sich bei dem Logo über der Eingangstür nicht verguckt hatte. Im Laden herrsche regelrechte Festbeleuchtung, also machte er Anstalten wie ein zivilisierter Mensch den Shop zu betreten und lief mit Schmackes gegen die verschlossene Tür. "Oh, fuck me." Er drückte kräftig mit dem Unterarm dagegen aber es bewegte sich nichts. Hämmerte mit der Rückseite seiner Faust ein paar Mal gegen das dicke Glas aber die scheiß Musik war so laut. Dann bemerkte er einen Schatten aus Richtung des Hinterzimmers und beobachtete wohl oder übel das amüsante Treiben für eine Weile. Da tanzte sein Hawaiishirt quer durch den Kundenbereich, arschwackelnd und offenbar mächtig gut gelaunt. Da der Bursche bis morgen seine Anwesenheit nicht bemerken würde, brach er vollkommen schmerzbefreit das Schloss auf mithilfe eines schmalen Taschenmessers. Die Tür schwang auf, die kleine Glocke hatte keine Chance gegen das Dröhnen aus den Boxen. Zugegeben fand er die Musik gar nicht so kacke, macht 3 Sympathiepunkte für das kleine Feierschwein. "Oi! Netter Arsch." Das klappte normalerweise, denn was Leute nicht hören sollten, kriegten sie immer spitz. Keine Reaktion jedoch, noch immer schwang der junge Mann von ihm abgewandt das Tanzbein. 

Kurzerhand trat er etwas dichter an ihn heran, eigentlich wollte er ihm bloß auf die Schulter tippen als sich sein Gegenüber im falschen Moment schwungvoll zu ihm umdrehte, sie dabei zusammenprallten und das halbe Inventar und zahllose Zeichnungen durch den Laden flogen. Kollateralschaden konnte man das wohl nennen, nur war kein Supe involviert und beide lebten glücklicherweise noch. Nachdem der letzte Song sowie das Rascheln des Papiers verstummt waren, konnte man sich also endlich miteinander unterhalten, sehr schön. Butcher verzog keine Miene als er mit so einer üblichen 'Wir haben geschlossen'-Rede begrüßt wurde. Er besah den Kleineren lediglich von schräg oben und stellte bei der Gelegenheit fest, dass ihre Shirts tatsächlich identisch waren, bis auf dass seins geschätzt zwei Nummern größer daherkam. Macht 10 Sympathiepunkte für das kleine Feierschwein. Minus 6 für sein Gemotze im Anschluss, hatte er noch nie was von der Kunde ist König gehört? "Well.. lebe als gäbe es kein Morgen und tanze als würde dir niemand zuschauen." Was für denkwürdige allererste Worte, die er an ihn richtete. Vielleicht tat sich überraschend der Boden unter dem Burschen auf und verschluckte ihn sobald er begriff, dass er ganz schön lange unbemerkt beobachtet worden war? "Wie auch immer, ich bin nicht hier, um mich von deiner Heidi durchlöchern zu lassen." Das klang verdammt falsch ohne Kontext. "Wie ich reingekommen bin? Tür stand offen." Er konnte jemandem vollkommen überzeugend und eiskalt ins Gesicht lügen, ohne dass sein Puls auch nur um einen einzigen Schlag dabei anstieg. "Was heißt hier also geschlossen, hm? Du bekommst die einmalige Gelegenheit für mich ein paar Überstunden einzulegen. Ich hab die goldene Kundenkarte." Dabei hielt er ihm seinen FBI-Ausweis unter die Nase. "Name ist Butcher, Billy Butcher. Ich weiß, sag jetzt nichts, ich sehe nicht aus wie ein Fed, eher wie frisch aus ner Porno-Version der Matrix, hab ich alles schonmal gehört. Wir sollten uns miteinander unterhalten, Junge." Er steckte das Dokument wieder weg und griff nach einer Skizze, die zufällig in Reichweite auf dem Tresen neben ihm gelandet war. "Hübsche Arbeit, ganz im Ernst. Was ich im Sinn habe, ist allerdings um ein Vielfaches größer. Es würde Stunden, nein Wochen, und endlose Sitzungen in Anspruch nehmen." Wie beiläufig schweifte sein Blick zum TV, wo immer noch über diesen mysteriösen, maskierten Supe berichtet wurde, der in und im Umkreis von Vegas sein Unwesen trieb. "Nehmen wir mal an, ich würde mir den gesamten Rücken tätowieren lassen wollen, wie oft hätten wir schätzungsweise das Vergnügen miteinander?" In der Erwartung, dass sich die Aussage so ziemlich genau deckte mit der Anzahl an Sitzungen, die ein bestimmter Kunde in diesem Laden abgesessen hatte, wartete er geduldig darauf, was der junge Mann ihm antworten würde. Mit der Tür ins Haus fallen konnte er immer noch wenn sein Gesprächspartner sich als mürrisch und unkooperativ entpuppte aber womöglich kam er ganz sauber an seine Info heran, ohne im Verlauf des Abends noch gegen mindestens zehn weitere Gesetze verstoßen zu müssen.

@arasanwar

#trip to funkytown a.a. #had a blast writing this one #「𝟶𝟸」⸻ 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌. ⊣⊢

[thefrogdalorian]

Ner Aliit

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Travelling through the galaxy in the Razor Crest with a formidable Mandalorian is a harsh, unforgiving life. The feelings you have developed for him as you soar through the stars together have mitigated the unpleasant aspects. Still, you know it can't last. After all, you and Din are from different worlds. He follows a strict Creed and you know that you do not have what it takes to be Mandalorian.

Journeying with the best bounty hunter in the parsec has often brought you face to face with danger. It has never fazed you before. Until one day you come face to face with danger without Din's reassuring presence at your side, and everything changes.

Word Count: 5.4k ✯ Rating:  Teen ✯ Content Warnings: Canon typical violence, reader kills someone with a blaster in self defence (Nothing is described in graphic detail) and subsequently deals with anxiety/panic attacks.  ✯ Author's Note: Today is four years since I watched Mando for the first time so I wrote this to celebrate! Inspired by a little daydream I had while looking at my own Mythosaur necklace. It's an AU where Din never had Grogu but still had shiny beskar, allow it ahah. Really hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading! 🤍

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

You can already tell from how Din’s footsteps thud a little heavier than usual against the ramp that something has angered him during his latest hunt. Perhaps he will share what precisely has troubled him later when you hurtle through hyperspace towards Nevarro. For now, you head towards the door, ready to help Din haul his latest bounty into the antiquated ship you call home.

Except, the man who stands before you is not Din Djarin.

Instead of the gleaming beskar you had been expecting to greet you on the ramp, a gloomy silhouette moves into view. There is something far darker about your presence than the man you had expected to see. It is not just the grimy, worn clothes he wears that send a shiver down your spine. Nor the way his beady eyes bore into you. They are sunken in his wizened face with a look of pure malice which sickens you to the pit of your stomach.

You are initially so shocked by the fact that the man standing before you is not Din, your eyes frantically examining the features of this stranger, that you almost fail to notice the weapon aimed at you.

Your heart skips a beat when you notice that the man is holding a blaster up at you. He stands unmoving, with his long, grungy fingers curled around the dark handle. The gesture sends a shiver down your spine. However, there is something even more terrifying than the reality of having a blaster aimed squarely in your direction. 

It is the expression on his face.

His glare is unrelenting in his coldness as his finger hovers over the trigger. You do not doubt for one moment that he will pull it.

Throughout your life, you have been exposed to danger many times, even before you met Din. Such brushes with death only increased when you started travelling through the galaxy with a bounty hunter. It was to be expected, of course. You think of the numerous occasions when you witnessed Din becoming embroiled in terrible binds and scrapes while you sat back and watched the carnage unfold. At first, you had been terrified by such violence. Now, you have come to expect it.

Perhaps before you met Din and began travelling with him, someone holding a blaster at you and gazing at you with such viciousness as the man before you would have been utterly petrifying.

However, it seems that the best bounty hunter in the parsec has somewhat hardened you to the realities of the galaxy. 

After the initial shock, you feel yourself accepting your current predicament with remarkable quickness. You assess the man's vulnerabilities and weak points, as Din once trained you to do. You notice a slight quake in his hand, the greyness of his scraggly beard and unkempt, greasy hair. He is not invincible. Soon, the terror you initially felt is replaced with anger; a simmering feeling in your gut as you are incredulous at the audacity of this man to threaten your life in this manner. You are furious at his attempt to intrude into your and Din's safe refuge like this. You are disgusted by him.

You have encountered plenty of unsavoury characters throughout your travels across the galaxy with Din. This pathetic coward does not faze you.

"Where is he?" the man finally speaks. His voice is gruff, his tone sharper than you imagined. It matches his wizened, wrinkly face, seemingly hardened by the decades of experience he undoubtedly possesses.

“Who?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

You know that the man will not buy your plea of ignorance regarding The Mandalorian. Yet, your act will buy you a few precious seconds to execute your plan. Plus, the more you converse with the man, the higher the chance his nerve may waver and that his sympathy for you might increase as you humanise yourself. You hope that by talking to him, his determination to mow you down in cold blood may decrease.

“Don’t play with me and give me a story full of bantha crap,” the man snarls, jabbing the blaster towards you, "I know you know where he is."

“I’m sorry,” you respond apologetically.

You know you must diffuse the situation and undo the damage you have caused with your blatant lies. Without hesitation, you raise your hands in a submissive gesture. Then, when the man does not take issue with a simple movement, you begin backing away from him. Fortunately, he lets you go. You can barely contain your grin as you know what you have in store for him.

Unknowingly, this man is playing right into your hands. 

This old rogue may have thought he could get the upper hand on The Mandalorian by returning to his ship and threatening his travelling companion. Unfortunately, he has underestimated the advantage you gain from knowing the Razor Crest inside out, including all of this old ship's quirks.

When you are satisfied both by the distance you have placed between you and your assailant and your relative proximity to the control panel, which is the key to your plan's success, you fake a stumble backwards. Your hand collides with the button that, when depressed, rapidly releases a cloud of pressurised gas into the hull. The jets that shoot out of the walls soon fill the Razor Crest and form a temporary barrier between you and the man that obscures you from his view. The distraction gives you just enough time to grab a blaster from Din’s workbench and aim it towards your surprise visitor. 

Then, without really consciously thinking about the consequences, you squeeze the trigger.

The sickening thud of the man’s body hitting the floor is the last sound you hear before you retreat up the ladder to the cockpit and seal yourself inside behind the secure door. You are pretty sure he will no longer prove a threat to you, but you have no desire to stick around and find out for definite. The reinforced door will provide sufficient protection, hopefully long enough for Din to return. 

Given that someone managed to reach the Razor Crest and callously threaten your life, you cannot imagine that Din will be far away. If the man has accomplices, you do not doubt Din's capability to take them out before he returns to ensure your safety.

Yet, as the minutes pass by Din is nowhere to be seen.

You are unsure how long you sit on the hard floor with your back to the door, trembling as you sit there. At first, the tremors that have overtaken your body may well be thanks to the frigid metal. Its coolness certainly does not help. As the adrenaline wears off and the realisation of what has just transpired dawns on you, you rapidly become reduced to a jittery, trembling wreck. 

Your state of mind following the skirmish is made worse by the paranoia which overtakes you. 

Initially your primary concern is for your own safety. You brace yourself for the companions of the man whose body lies below you to barge in and finish the job their ringleader started. You wonder which weapons they may possess. 

Would you try to fight them off, or should you flee?

You wonder whether you could even begin the launch sequence of the Razor Crest and fly away in search of Din. He has attempted to teach you how to fly the ship for emergencies such as this, but to your presently terrified brain, the dashboard looks like a confusing conundrum of buttons.

At the first thought of him wandering through the forests which cover the planet’s surface, your overactive imagination now runs away with the worst scenarios of what could be happening right this instant, elsewhere on this planet. 

Visions of the Mandalorian you love, lying in a ditch somewhere on this forest-covered planet, injured and frightened after being ambushed by the same band of dastardly scoundrels overwhelm your senses.

The fear that Din will never return to you, that the depth of your feelings towards him will remain unsaid forever, shatters you. 

You are unsure how long you sit there. Each creak and noise of the ship, noises that you are usually so familiar with and accustomed to now work against you, startling you each time. It is a constant cycle of alarm as your breathing rate picks up and your pulse rate thunders in your ears each time there is a faint thud. You feel your resolve draining with each disturbance.

So when you hear the sound of the Razor Crest's ramp whirring as it lowers to the ground, you barely have the energy to react. Instead, you are relieved that you are now seconds away from meeting your ultimate fate. One way or another, you will finally be put out of your misery. Whoever enters the Razor Crest will not be met with much fight from you, whatever their intentions.

When you hear footsteps this time, you believe that the thuds are indeed the familiar rhythmic, certain sounds of your favourite bounty hunter. Until you lay eyes upon him, however, you will not allow yourself to believe that fact.

Fortunately for your anguished soul, you get confirmation of Din’s return before ever laying eyes upon him. 

“Cyare?” Din calls, his deep voice cuts through the ship up to the cockpit where you continue to cower in the cockpit, “Are you alright?”

You are so relieved to hear him that you could almost burst into tears. Before that happens, you must give him some acknowledgement that you were unharmed in the skirmish.

“I’m up here in the cockpit, Din,” you respond, alarmed at how your voice trembles as the adrenaline has worn off, “I’m alright.”

You push yourself up on shaky limbs to stand and prepare to reunite with the man you have grown so close to. You aren't entirely sure when it happened, falling in love with Din. You certainly never intended it, nor did you imagine that the aloof bounty hunter who was so stoic and barely spoke could reveal himself to have such a beautiful soul beneath his cold, metallic armour. Yet, somewhere along the way, as you hurtled through hyperspace together, you did fall in love with Din. 

It was not one moment but rather a collection of smaller fragments which, when pieced together, form the warmth that spreads in your chest each time you think of Din. It has been the late-night conversations sitting in the red leather chairs of the cockpit, reminiscing on your past lives. The ability that Din possesses in never failing to make you laugh. Even on days when you feel despondent. It is how considerate Din is of you; he never fails to check on your well-being and ascertain whether you can handle one more job or whether you should return to Nevarro for a few days of rest.

All of those moments and more contributed to your present feelings for Din.

You realised how deeply you cared for him when you first noticed your overwhelming desire to please him. The fact that, without even realising it, you had learnt how he liked his ration packs prepared even if you could never enjoy a meal together, given the helmet restriction. You realised that you had attentively watched how Din polished his weapons and studied how he stored them so that you could alleviate some stress when he returned from another hunt and needed to rest. You have noticed that, even though your lives are in many ways different, you both retain the same core values and principles. Honesty, integrity and loyalty are traits you both hold dear.

Only moments ago, it had crushed you to think you would never get to enjoy such moments with Din again.

Now, you stand here, practically bursting with joy as you realise you will soon be back with the man whose presence you yearn to always be in. You can hear his feet hitting the rungs of the ladder that leads up to the cockpit and take a deep breath to steady yourself, even though your entire body quivers with the last dregs of adrenaline and the anticipation of seeing Din again.

The door opens. The familiar glint of the Beskar you had been expecting to see earlier finally comes into view, soothing your nerves instantly. Din surges towards you. You barely have time to react before his arms are around you. He brings a gloved hand up to your chin, holding your face in one hand while he secures his other arm snugly around your waist. You are grateful that he is holding you so tightly. Without his strong arms, you are unconvinced whether you could remain vertical. 

“Oh, cyare," Din exhales, his voice trembling under the weight of his emotions. "I was so worried when I saw the body down there. What in Maker’s name happened here?” Din asks, deep voice full of concern.

“I heard footsteps that I assumed were yours, but when I got there, the door opened. You weren't there, Din. I was so scared," you confess, your voice trembling too.

"Dank farrik!" Din harshly exclaims. You startle in response, and he tightens his hold around you, bringing your chest flush to the cold metal of his armour, before apologetically adding, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay, Din," you whisper in reassurance.

"Forgive me for my outburst. I was just frustrated that I couldn't be there for you. The same group, I assume, ambushed me. It took me a while to fight them off. I should have been here," Din shakes his head, "Anyway, do you want to tell me about what happened?"

You nod, your bottom lip trembling. You take some breaths to steady your nerves as you try your best to ignore your reflection in Din's helmet. If you pause for too long and perceive how fragile and broken you appear, you know you will crumble entirely.

"Well, I stepped up to the top of the ramp expecting to see you. Instead, that man was standing there. He held a blaster up at me. I was so scared that he was going to shoot," you squeak, voice barely above a whisper now. Din moves his hands up and down your back in soothing motions, comforting you enough to continue: "I managed to distract him enough to retreat with my hands up. Then I pretended to stumble and push the button on the control panel, which discharged the pressurised gas. It gave me the cover to grab your blaster on the workbench. And then, well, you saw...” you squeak out as you feel hot tears trail down your cheeks.

You permit yourself to fall apart now, knowing that Din is here to pick your pieces up and place you back together. He brings a hand to your cheek, wiping your tears away with his gloved fingers. A smile ghosts across your lips at the sensation of the buttery texture against your skin.

“You did so well, cyare,” Din whispers. "I promise you, you're safe now. No one will hurt you," he adds soothingly.

Din brings your head into his cowl. He gathers you to him and protects you from the anguish. From this position, you can faintly feel the warmth which emanates from the man beneath the beskar through the coarse yet soft material. The dark brown material is a sharp contrast to the hard, coldness of his armour, a sliver of humanity amongst the many facets of the formidable Mandalorian warrior. You never feel safer or more protected than when Din takes you into his arms and holds you close. The relief is immediate, but it does not stop the emotional outburst. Tears continue to stream down your face.

“I was so scared Din,” you manage out between the sobs that have suddenly overwhelmed your fragile state of mind.

“I know, I know. But I’m so proud of you,” Din says.

His ordinarily steady voice trembles with emotion except when he emphasises how proud he is of you. To know that Din Djarin himself is proud of you makes your chest ache with joy. You have made this strong, stoic warrior proud. It makes your head swim with glee. Yet, it only adds to the myriad of emotions which overwhelm your trembling body.

Din holds you close, but you cannot stop crying. The embarrassment you feel at your outburst further contributes to your distress. The tears flow in earnest now, Din’s cowl surely becoming damp with the moisture that has escaped your swollen, irritated eyes.

“Shhhhh my love, ner kar'ta,” Din soothes as he rocks you, “You’re safe now. I've got you. You’re safe.” 

With his comforting words and the way Din holds you, your sniffles eventually subside. Still, Din holds you until you can barely stand anymore.

When you can stand no longer, when your body finally succumbs to the emotional toll of the day, Din is there to coax you into moving. Somehow, 

Din manages to skillfully manoeuvre you into descending the ladder. You are too tired to question quite how it happens. The next thing you know, you are tucked up in the bunk. There is barely enough room for Din, yet he manages to lie beside you, holding you until you drift off.

Finally, you allow yourself to fall into the warm embrace of sleep…

✯✯✯

You remain confined to your bunk for most of the return trip to Nevarro. The skirmish took its toll on you. In your lethargicness, you struggle to have the energy to do anything other than sleep. Din is patient and attentive with you, taking care of all the maintenance jobs and meal preparation that you usually assist with.

Yet, it is not just the stress of events and the inescapable fact that you have claimed your first life which weighs on your mind. It is trying to figure out what the future looks like for you and Din. 

You have never met anyone like him. He is intelligent, caring and skilled in anything he turns his hand to. He provides for you. Since you began travelling together, you have wanted for nothing physically or spiritually. Din is diligent and attentive, always on hand to pick you up if things prove too much. He makes you laugh like you never have with anyone else you have met. Until your ribs ache and your cheeks hurt from grinning. You think of the hours spent together sitting in the red chairs of the cockpit as the blues and silvers of hyperspace streak outside the windows, illuminating Din's armour in a way that leaves you mesmerised.

When you first started travelling with Din, you were sceptical that you would ever grow close to a man who kept so much of himself a mystery. His face was hidden behind a helmet and you knew him only as Mando. How could you ever form a bond with someone so elusive?

Now, you understand that you do not need to see a person's face to know them entirely. There is no doubt that you completely understand who the man underneath the beskar is. You trust Din Djarin with everything you have. 

Although it took him long enough to honour you with knowing that name, now you speak it often. While he vows that he will know yours eternally, for it is the Mandalorian way to say, “I love you.”

You cannot imagine your life without him. 

However, as much as you care for Din and are certain he cares for you in return, you know you will never have what it takes to become Mandalorian. It is why you have held back from your feelings, never permitting yourself to return the sweet words and affectionate nicknames. Your destinies lie in opposite directions. You will never be truly worthy of his love.

It is a thought that leaves you thoroughly despondent as you lie in the bunk. If you are this distressed after taking a life in self-defence, how would you ever be able to participate in his culture, his identity, which is so dear to him?

Without that fighting spirit within you, you are sure you would never be able to be Mandalorian. Without being Mandalorian, it will be impossible for Din to build a life with you.

Whatever relationship the two of you have is more than likely fleeting. You will part when it becomes apparent that you are too fundamentally different to prove a compatible pairing. You know that. 

Yet, it does not stop the melancholia that such a fact provokes in you.

You understand that one day, Din Djarin will leave your life.

Knowing that evidence of your fundamentally opposing ways of life will become evident once more shortly leaves you inconsolable. Once the Razor Crest lands in Nevarro so the bounties can be offloaded Din will leave you alone for an indeterminate amount of time to be with his covert. 

Since you are not Mandalorian, you are forbidden from joining him. 

The thought of not being with him devastates you. Yet, the prospect of being alone on a planet without Din downright terrifies you after your brush with death.

Although you are frightened, you are determined not to let him see your discomfort. 

After all, it would be unfair of you to hold Din back from spending time with his tribe.

You know you will never be able to join him, yet you still respect Din's creed. You admire his devotion to his Way. You do not judge him for it, even if you are baffled by some rules Din must adhere to.

Yet, there is another reason you keep your emotions to yourself. 

You do not want to worry Din any further.

Following your brush with death, Din has been fussing over you so much that you almost feel smothered. He is watching you intently to check that the fact you have taken another’s life does not leave a scar on you. He constantly reassures you that it was self-defence and that you did the right thing. When you wake up screaming after terrible visions haunt you, Din is there in an instant to soothe your anguished soul.

Even though you are grateful for how much he cares, you want to be left alone. You feel guilty, as though you are a burden to him. Here you are, taking up so much of his precious time and energy when you are not even a member of his tribe. 

So, when Din informs you he will depart the Razor Crest to join up with his covert after the old ship finally touches down on Nevarro, you are glad to see him go.

Even if being on such a skughole makes you unsettled. You wish that you had Din’s comforting presence around to soothe your soul. But non-Mandalorians are not permitted to enter the covert’s hideout, and you respect that rule. 

So, you are alone. 

You pass the time polishing and reordering Din's assortment of weapons so they are exactly how he likes him upon his return. It is penance for the tremendous amount of extra effort he exerted in taking care of you during your journey here.

After you finish cleaning Din's most prized possessions, you stand before the weapons locker, adjusting each blaster and rifle until they are arrow straight. Din is fastidious when it comes to organising his armoury. You want to please him.

It is a task that you are still engaged in when you hear the ramp whirring. The noise makes you panic initially. Until, for your benefit, Din calls your name to reassure you that it is him returning; no one is here to harm you.

Your initial anxiety is soothed instantly by the sound of his deep voice. The apprehension is replaced by a smile at the way the syllables of your name warble through his vocoder.

You hastily close the doors to the locker. You weren't quite finished with your task yet. You do not want Din to catch a glimpse before everything is perfect.

"You're back quicker than I expected," you observe, greeting him with a look of surprise across your features.

"There was only one matter I wished to settle," Din shrugs.

"Oh?" you raise your eyebrows, wondering if it is connected to the drawstring pouch made of dark material he carries in one hand.

"Concerning you," Din simply says.

You are rendered speechless. Your initial concern is that Din has confessed to travelling with a non-Mandalorian. Perhaps it is forbidden for his tribe to befriend outsiders. Your stomach drops as you panic that Din has been forced to leave his covert in disgrace.

What if, after the skirmish, Din decided to leave you behind here on Nevarro and simply needed to ask his tribe's leader for advice so his nerves did not waver?

Your frantic train of thought halts at the thuds of Din's footsteps approaching you. Mercifully, it seems you are about to discover the nature of their conversation.

"I have something for you," Din explains as he reaches into the drawstring pouch and produces a shiny object attached to a string.

You are curious about the mysterious relic before you. You do not hesitate to reach your hand out, your palm up, ready to accept it. It glints in mid-air before Din places it into your palm. 

The sensation of the cool metal of the mysterious object

proves to be an intriguing yet comforting presence in your hand. It soothes you instantly. It is a grounding sensation you badly need. Especially after the dark places your mind has wandered to. Terrible visions and eventualities your imagination has frequented a lot recently since your brush with death.

You realise now that it is in your hand that Din has brought you a necklace. Peculiar. You wonder what in the galaxy an item of jewellery could have to do with his covert.

The metallic pendant is a shape you do not recognise; there is a long, thin strand of dark brown leather attached to the charm.

“Do you know what this is?” Din finally asks after he has left you alone to survey your gift.

You shake your head, looking up at him questioningly.

“This is the Mythosaur, an ancient creature our ancestors once rode. It is a symbol that belongs to all Mandalorians,” Din explains, gesturing a gloved fingertip at the shiny object.

You see now that the metallic outline appears to be the skull of a creature you have never heard before. With its sunken black eye sockets and intimidating, sharp features; the Mythosaur is a little intimidating. Still, you are mesmerised by its pointy teeth and long tusks. It is quite unlike anything you have ever seen. You run your thumb over the ridges, enjoying the sensation of the metal in your hand.

"I had it forged by my tribe's Armorer from the excess beskar of my new armour," Din explains, "The chain is taken from a strip of my bandolier, too."

"The craftsmanship..." you whisper, awestruck, "It's beautiful."

Then, Din says something which catches you completely off-guard. 

“I want you to be part of my Clan, cyare,” Din announces.

Your mouth falls open. You look up at Din, stunned at his declaration. He does not want to leave you behind or cast you out. He wants you to be with him forever. You begin to feel the rumbling of tears somewhere deep inside your gut. You almost allow yourself to smile.

Almost.

Your moment of happiness shatters when you realise joining Din's Clan likely comes with an expectation to be Mandalorian. You hope the necklace does not come with the assumption of committing yourself to something you remain unsure that you want for yourself. 

Yet bringing that up to Din would surely disappoint him, a terrible prospect. His Way is of utmost importance to him.

“But, Din… I’m not Mandalorian,” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears as you remind him of your differences.

“It doesn’t matter,” Din shakes his head.

"Are you sure?" you breathe, stunned.

"I'm positive, cyare. You can take this necklace to any Mandalorian and say my name. If you present this to a Mandalorian covert and tell them Din Djarin set you, they will ensure you are protected and safe for as long as you need. No matter where you are in the galaxy.”

“Even though I’m not Mandalorian?” you whisper, astonished. 

“Yes. One does not have to walk The Way in order to be protected by us," Din nods.

You are stunned. For so long, you had mistaken Mandalorian covertness for exclusion. You had believed they disliked and distrusted anyone who did not follow their way of life. Now you realise that you had entirely misconstrued their seclusion. Mandalorians, it transpires, are fiercely protective over anyone they care about, an honour not restricted to their own kind.

"After what happened, I want to feel reassured by knowing that you would have somewhere to turn to for refuge if something like that were ever to happen again. More than that, I want you…” Din sighs, steadying himself. “I want you to be part of my Clan,” he adds, his voice full of certainty.

“I couldn't possibly be worthy of such a thing,” you shake your head, unable to meet his gaze, "I shot one nerfherder in self-defence and look at the toll it took on me," you scoff, fiddling with the necklace and avoiding Din's gaze.

Din is unsatisfied with your words. He brings his hand to your chin and tilts it upwards until your eyes are level with the steely gaze of his dark T-visor.

“You are absolutely worthy,” Din adds with finality and certainty in his voice that causes your chest to constrict, “You have shown as much fight and resolve as any Mandalorian warrior would be proud of. You may not be Mandalorian, but you have our spirit. Our manda, our soul. You do not have to be Mandalorian to be loved by one. So, it would be the honour of my life if you would join my Clan, cyare,” Din adds solemnly.

He takes his hand from under your chin and balls it into a fist. Then he raises his clenched fist to his chestplate and holds it over his heart. He bows his head in your direction, wordlessly demonstrating his affection for you.

With his beautiful words and deferent actions, how could you refuse such an offer?

“Then, I will happily join your clan, Din Djarin,” you whisper.

You watch with curiosity as Din takes the necklace from your hand. Then, he softly places a gloved hand on your shoulder and gently turns you around. You realise what he is doing when the pendant slides down over your chest. You smile as you feel the cool metal make contact with your skin through the cloth of the simple clothes you wear. The thin leather is a comforting presence around your neck, especially when combined with the weight of the Mythosaur.

You turn around to face Din once again. You are unable to prevent the grin that spreads across your features. For the first time since that terrifying encounter with that ghastly man, you feel a true sense of tranquillity. You no longer find yourself plagued by fear for the future.

You realise that you should probably make some profound speech of gratitude. Instead, you sigh in contentment as you stand before Din. You are too happy to find words, perfectly content merely to stand before the man you adore. A man whom, thanks to the necklace you wear around your neck, you are now bound to. 

Din brings his hands to your sides, resting them against your body as his thumbs rub fond circles into your hips. There is no fear, no uncertainty anymore.

The future for you and Din is bright.

Din eventually sighs fondly, cupping your chin with his gloved hand.

“It suits you,” he nods in approval.

You smile at the gesture and turn your lips into his fingers, placing a kiss on the soft leather there. Then, Din brings your forehead to his helmet in a gesture he has assured you is akin to a kiss in his eyes. For now, at least, it is the only way he can kiss you.

You stay like that for a few moments. 

Eventually, Din's deep voice breaks the silence. 

“Ner aliit,” Din whispers. Then adds in basic, for the benefit of your ears:

“My family.”

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #pedro pascal characters #my fics #i had a blast writing this on the whole even if getting it juuuuust right did at times make me want to tear my arms off #and beat myself to death with them #but no like honestly writing is so fun!!!!!!!!! #anyway hope i succeeded and you enjoyed this one!!!!

[not-a-font]

Ace, the son of Roger, is brothers with Luffy, the son of Dragon? I can't believe that Dragon and Roger were lovers. What a twist

#not-a-post #one piece #monkey d. luffy #portgas d ace #monkey d dragon #gol d. roger #one piece meme #shitpost #Sabo's their half brother #Dragon found another lover while mourning Roger's death #big news morgan had a blast writing this story #also imagining crocomom seething in the background that roger's getting credit for making his progeny

[shady-tavern]

Perfect Nemesis Part Two

Part One Here.

***

You woke in the hero hospital, feeling like you had gotten run over. Aches and pains seemed to fill your entire body. You peeled your eyes open to see Peony across from you, asleep and bandaged, with some stitches along one temple. He wasn’t wearing his mask and you saw his face for the first time since you met him.

Your brows furrowed briefly as you groped for the button that called the nurse. Was it the first time you saw his face? Your head hurt and felt stuffed with cotton.

The nurse working for the Society appeared a second after you sloppily pressed the button, only for your eyes to fall closed halfway through her explanation of the severe overextension of your abilities and how that had translated to damage on your joints and tissue. How you would have killed yourself had you used more of your powers.

When you woke a second time you were just barely more coherent and it was the middle of the night. A dimmed light across from you let you see that Peony was awake, speaking softly with Endless, who sat in the open window, also without his mask.

They both paused and looked over when you made some kind of low sound. Your mouth felt dust dry and your limbs heavy. Everything hurt, but in a bone-deep bruised way and you instinctively knew right away you’d do some serious damage to yourself should you try to use your powers again anytime soon.

"How are you feeling?" Peony asked hesitantly and cautiously, voice quiet but clearly audible in the silent room. You blinked at him, weakly and sluggishly patting around to call the nurse again. You were barely capable of stringing a single thought together.

It was only when your hand bumped the button that you realized you weren’t wearing your ring. You weren’t wearing it and you felt…fine. You felt like you were whole and very much not cursed.

You blinked at them. "Huh," you croaked and passed out again just as they straightened, attention firmly fixed upon you.

When you woke a third time, your mind clear enough that you could actually cling to consciousness, it was to your mentor sitting in a chair beside you.

"Thank fuck," she said the moment you blinked your eyes open and focused on her. Her relief was strong in her voice and openly visible on her face. "You were out for nearly a week. What did you do, kid?"

"Not a kid," you mumbled, but that only made her smile a little. She’d never drop that stupid nickname. Instead of answering, you made yourself move your heavy arm until you could look down at your hand.

Your mentor sobered immediately and you let her take your hand, looking at the spot where a dinged up iron ring had sat for years. You hadn’t taken it off once, not for training, not for bathing and especially not for your last boyfriend who had hated the damn thing. Not that you had liked it, but you had needed it. It had been vital for so long.

"What happened?" your mentor asked quietly. "Did they manage to break the curse?" You shifted your head slightly to peer past her, only to see Peony’s bed empty. "Ah, your buddy is getting a check-up and then he’ll be released later today." 

Your mentor leaned forward a little, turning serious. With more emphasis she said, "Kid."

You had never once been able to hold back when she used that tone of voice. The story spilled forth just as every other story had back when you had been a sidekick and later a fledgling new hero. But you were safe, here and now. 

Your mentor was one of the safest people you knew, she’d go to bat for you at the drop of a hat. You had grown into the hero you were today under her protection and guidance after all.

She was silent for a long moment after you were done and you found it hard to keep your eyes open. 

"I’ll go talk with Peony," she said, giving your hand a parting pat. "Sleep, kid. You really fucked yourself up this time. It’s going to take a while for you to recover."

You mumbled something that was some kind of vague agreement, your eyes falling closed.

*.*.*

Peony was gone when you woke again and you continued to sleep more than you were awake. Sometimes you had visitors, sometimes not, sometimes you woke to people having left gifts at your bedside table.

The time you fell asleep to your superior berating you for destroying 'six and a half fucking buildings you goddamn unbelievable idiot' you were glad to get out of the harsh reprimand. You hadn’t cared about the damage when you had been without empathy, but that hardly mattered. Not when you had caused nearly five million in property damage.

You were very relieved that no one had died. That the people who had gotten caught in the crossfire had been rescued by Peony and, to everyone’s surprise, Endless.

You hadn’t seen your colleague or the villain who had been so eager to be your nemesis since that night in the hospital. You had no idea what to feel when it came to them, but every time you found yourself thinking about them, you touched the spot where the ring had been.

The curse was gone entirely.

The magical expert the Society sent to examine you confirmed that as well, clapping you on the shoulder and congratulating you on getting rid of that horrible thing. You got questioned extensively, but you found yourself skirting over details, citing that you didn’t remember much. 

Your mentor had spoken with Peony once and had said that he would explain himself when and if you were ready to see him again. She had given you a card with his private phone number on it.

"And that Endless fellow will be there too for the conversation, if you want him to be," she had added. Then she had paused, looking at you. "You made quite the impression on him. He had nothing but praise for you."

You had looked away, shrinking bit into yourself. You had too many questions to not want answers, even if everything was kind of a mess. You had no idea if you still wanted to be Peony’s friend or…whatever Endless and you had had previously. 

But they had gotten rid of your curse, even if things had become a bit ugly after they had taken off the ring. Still, that moment of intense betrayal kept hounding you, your ignored pleas, how you had been tied to the ground, utterly helpless.

You found yourself touching your hand over and over, startled alarm finding you for a split second when you didn’t feel the ring, before you remembered that it wasn’t necessary anymore. It was both the greatest relief of your life and something you still had to wrap your head around.

It took some time to adjust to living without a curse after so many years with one.

When you were released from the hero hospital at last with strict orders to take it easy for another month before you could be allowed back to active duty, you were glad to go back home.

You unpacked the bag your mentor had brought you for your stay in the hospital. She was puttered around your home, opening windows to let in fresh air. Your mentor at last opened your fridge and immediately closed it again.

"I’ll go shopping," she said and left briskly with a little wriggle of her fingers.

You tentatively opened your fridge, only to immediately close it again yourself. Well. Taking a deep breath, you rummaged around beneath your sink to get gloves and cleaning products and you got to work, removing food that had had plenty of time to go and rot and mold.

You were just finished with that very disgusting task when your mentor returned and she shooed you away, grumbling that you had to take it easy.

You did take it easy the rest of the day, barely getting up from the couch. Your mentor made sure you had food and left some meals you just had to heat up in your fridge.

"Call me if you need anything," she said after dinner. "I’ll stay in a nearby hotel for another night before returning to work."

Even then you knew she’d drop everything in a heartbeat if you said you needed her help. You resolved to find a good gift for her, to thank her for all her care and her sometimes no-nonsense encouragement during your recovery.

You hadn’t known that overextending your powers could result in a month of bedrest. Then again, apparently you had badly damaged your body in the process and there had been quite a bit that had needed healing.

Empathyless-you was an asshole in all regards.

As you sat alone on your couch you found yourself fiddling with the card Peony had given your mentor. You wanted answers, but you had no idea if you wanted to see him or Endless again.

Maybe a part of you was afraid of what those answers were. Of finding out that the friendship and flirting and banter and easy companionship had only existed so they could trick you.

But, in the end, you wanted to know why they had tricked you more than you were afraid. Why they hadn’t just told you about their plans to remove the curse. You would have let them. You had no idea how much you still trusted them now, if at all, but you had trusted them that much before they forcibly removed your ring.

You leaned back with a sigh and fiddled with the card a moment longer, before you drew up the sort of courage that let you step into costume on a bad day, that made you face villains that sometimes, secretly, frightened you.

The sort of courage that let you keep your head held high the two times you hadn’t been able to save civilians, carrying their limb bodies.

Peony picked up near immediately, his voice tentatively hopeful. "Imagination?"

"Yeah." You were glad that your voice sounded steady even if your heart was beating faster nervously. "You said you were willing to explain?"

"Over the phone or in person?" he asked, voice going a bit softer in a way that made your throat tighten a little. "Whatever you’re more comfortable with. I’ll make sure to get assigned to another city too if you want. I have the paperwork ready to be submitted."

You closed your eyes for a moment. That was all a bit much at once. "Just…why?" It came out more hurt than you had intended.

Peony was quiet for just a second. "I’ll answer, but it would be best if Endless were here," he suggested, voice going a bit tentative again.

"Aright. Sure. Call me back when he’s there." You ended the call before he could say anything else, rubbing a hand restlessly over your face. Your emotions were kind of messy, but at least you had those feelings. You were rid of your curse and that…that meant so fucking much.

It was in all honesty the only reason you were willing to hear them out.

Peony called back quicker than you had expected and from the slight change in audio quality you could tell that he had put you on speaker.

"Hello," Endless said, voice soft and hesitant in a way you had never heard or expected to hear from the confident villain. "I hope you’re doing well?"

"No smalltalk," you found yourself croaking out, your voice cracking a little despite your best efforts. You grimaced and took a breath before you continued. "Just tell me why."

"Why the deception and trickery and why we used your trust against you?" Endless asked and you swallowed past your dry mouth. "It was the only way to lift the curse."

Thankfully, he continued before you had to ask him to elaborate. "The villain who hurt you once met up with my old mentor, ranting and raving. I overheard a lot that day and in all fairness, I had mostly forgotten that day until I met you." His voice turned a little softer. "It took me a bit to remember that you were the hurt sidekick in that public trial."

"What do you know about the curse?" you found yourself asking, worrying the hem of your sleeve between the fingers of your free hand.

Endless made a low, dark noise. "It’s one of the vilest things I’ve ever encountered and that says a lot. The curse isn’t particularly complex, but it’s removal is. For one, it cannot be removed if you want it removed by the person in front of you. As long as you let someone try to take it away, it would not work."

Which was why none of the Society heroes or independent vigilante with magical abilities had been able to do anything.

"We could not tell you about what we had planned," Peony said quietly, regret thick in his voice. "I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you, but just one mention about it would have made you expect the removal sooner or later. We would have had to wait years to make you actively forget about it for it to work."

"I’m so very sorry as well," Endless said softly. "I wouldn’t have done anything if you hadn’t minded your curse, but it was clear you hated it for both of us. If you never want to see me again, you won’t."

You closed your eyes as the two men fell silent, giving you a moment to work through everything. You ended the call, rubbing your hands over your chin before pressing your face into your palms to just breathe.

Your emotions were all over the place and you had no idea what to think or feel for the longest moment. In the end you texted Peony 'give me some time' and shoved your phone under your couch cushions.

You did not sleep that night, staying awake until the first hint of dawn, staring out across a city you had been protecting for years with Peony at your side. Your friend, your companion, your partner.

And then Endless had shown up. The exciting villain who had shaken your world up in the best of ways for months. Who had made you stop worrying about that damn ring on your finger.

A ring that was no longer needed because of them. You had no idea where that ring was now, but you didn’t want it back either. You never wanted to see the damn thing ever again.

In the end you called your mentor and, as so many other times, laid your troubled heart at her feet.

"That’s a right mess, kid," she said with sympathy and you couldn’t help but snort before, at long last, you found yourself crying. Pent up stress and relief and confusion all poured out in a mess of tears. "There, there, let it all out." And quieter, so you barely heard her, "Maybe I should go rogue and kill that asshole in jail after all."

And then you were laugh-crying and when you calmed down again, you did feel better.

"I’d say let them grovel a while," your mentor said. "If you think you can ever trust them again."

Could you? You wanted to, you realized as you ended the call and sat curled up on your couch, watching as the city came alive the more the sun rose. You wanted to trust them, because…because they made your life better, both of them. Meeting them had brought so much good into your life.

But you couldn’t forget the betrayal and being pinned to the floor. The panic as your ring got stripped away, your pleas ignored. 

You understood why they had done it, considering the nature of the curse. But the mind and the heart were two different beasts and you were in the very fortunate position that neither of them seemed to be able to come to a proper decision.

So you puttered around for a few days, mulling things over until you realized you were just turning in circles. So you called Peony again after staring at your dirty dishes for a long moment, mind far away. He picked up and from the voice in the background that immediately became easily audible when you were put on speaker, Endless was with him.

Despite all the things you wanted to ask and say, somehow the first thing out of your mouth was, "How do you two know each other?" 

Peony huffed softly, "We’re childhood friends, actually. I always knew he was Endless and he always knew I was Peony. I, uh, I was the reason he switched cities in the first place. I had some trouble that he helped me with. Civilian trouble," he added quickly and you felt an unexpected, fresh stab of hurt fade again.

It was Society policy to not share your private lives with each other when you hadn’t been told each others identities. You had always made sure to respect that, never prying and not commenting on slip-ups from Peony or yourself.

"After helping my friend out I didn’t want to go back to Imperia," Endless added. "It was easier to establish myself here than go through the hassle of clearing my old territory from the rabble. And, well, Imperia didn’t have you either."

You had no idea what to say, so you changed the subject. "Why were we in the same hospital room, Peony?"

"You don’t remember? My mask got eaten by the void," he said and it took you a moment to recall, that, oh, yeah, he was right. Your memory was a little blurry, especially with how fast it had all happened. "Along with half my outfit. Any longer in there and I probably would have lost some pieces of me too."

Endless was audibly grimacing when he added, "I tried to negate the damage as much as I could, but the void really, really doesn’t like anything that’s not me."

That didn’t surprise you. Every brush of the void during fights had told you as much, even though you had trusted that Endless wouldn’t use it against you.

"Was my mask still in place?" you asked, because the nurses would not have unmasked you without your permission, no matter if your partner had shown you his face or not. Both men made a low, unhappy sound.

"The glue we used apparently couldn’t withstand the amount of power you put out in order to make that dragon," Peony explained. You blinked in surprise, you hadn’t even noticed that. "Which, by the way, what the fuck? I didn’t know you could do that."

"Neither could I," you admitted after a moment. "Having no empathy meant I didn’t care about you or myself."

Peony’s mirth noticeably fell away. "I can’t tell you how sorry I am. About ambushing you and making you think we betrayed you. We tried to come up with so many different ways to get that ring without you catching on, but you always guarded it like your life depended on it. Which, knowing what we know now, it actually did."

His words gave you pause. "Wait, what?"

"Oh, you didn’t notice?" Peony sounded surprised. "My frie- I mean, I stole your gloves on multiple occasions, but you always had backups. I tried to 'stumble' into you a couple of times if they got damaged in fights too when Endless was nearby to try and yank the ring off. Endless tried to tug them off too."

"I also tried to remove them with my powers, but that was too finicky while we fought," Endless admitted. "I’m not really good at that delicate stuff when it comes to my powers. It takes so much concentration that I usually just get a headache."

You stared at the opposite wall and the framed artwork on the wall, baffled and unsure what to say. All this time you had thought that you had just forgotten your gloves, especially since they always turned back up. You had thought Peony had just been tired or injured whenever he had tripped and you had adjusted to catch him.

"I couldn’t invite you out to drinks either or I would have gotten you wasted enough to let me pull the ring off," Peony added after a moment. "Which would still have been a major asshole move, I know that, believe me. You were always very firm on not telling each other who we were, so that plan would have never worked."

"And I didn’t want to ask you out knowing I was going to do…that," Endless said, voice lowered and laced with a quiet sort of ache. "Doesn’t matter that I have no chances now, I never wanted to taint whatever we had that way."

You struggled with finding your voice for a couple of seconds, Peony and Endless waiting patiently for you to speak again.

"Why didn’t you trick me sooner?" you asked and they were silent for a long moment.

"I like you, you know," Peony said at last, his voice heavy. "As does Endless."

"More than that, really," Endless added so quietly you almost hadn’t heard him. You suspected he actually hadn’t meant to be heard by you at all.

Peony continued, "We care about you and the more we did, the more we hesitated. It became harder to go through with it the longer we waited."

You slumped back against your couch, feeling conflicted all over again. 

"I’m truly so very sorry," Endless said softly. "If you are willing to let me I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

"As will I," Peony said firmly. "But if you never want to see us again, one word is enough and we’ll vanish from your life."

"We’d still see each other during seminars and Society meetings," you found yourself pointing out and Peony hesitated in a way that made you frown and sit up. "What?"

"I would leave the Society," Peony said. "I’ve wanted to go independent for a while now, so I plan on going somewhere else to open my own office. Just, uh, just so you know, you’d be welcome as my partner. If you want."

Independent hero offices existed everywhere, they worked together with the Society and the government as well as companies. They could be quite successful if done well and you didn’t doubt that Peony was quite capable. He’d make it work.

Peony hesitantly added, "In all honesty, I think I’ll go independent regardless. I’ve been a bit unhappy with working for the Society for a while now."

The Society wasn’t perfect, that was true, and you could admit that the idea of being your own boss was an unexpectedly interesting and, well, rather tempting. You would have said yes, you realized, before this entire mess with the ring.

A part of you still wanted to say yes.

As you tipped your head back to stare up at the ceiling, you came to a decision. You had no idea if you would regret it, but it felt like you’d regret it more if you just…gave up. Ran away. You shifted your fingers to press your thumb of the same hand against the spot where the ring used to sit.

"No more secrets," you said at last. A high demand in your field of work. Secrecy was a big part of the business, both for villains and heroes.

"Anything you want to know, I’ll tell you," Endless said without an ounce of hesitation.

"Aren’t you scared I’m going to use that against you?" You couldn’t help but ask, pushing just a little, because if he told you everything you wanted to know you could easily sell him out to the Society.

"You are a truly good person," Endless answered, voice firm and once again without a hint of hesitation. "And should you decide to betray me in the end in answer for my transgressions, I will only bow my head and call it fair."

He sounded like he meant it. 

"Why don’t I start," Peony said and you heard the careful hope in his voice, could imagine the little smile that curled in the corner of his mouth. Like a small flower yearning to bloom. "Hello Imagination, you know me as Peony, but my real name is Florent Quill and I visit hospitals and nursery homes in my free time to leave bouquets for the people there."

That was so very Peony. Florent. You turned the name over in your mind and found it fitting.

"And my name is Ashton Bach," Endless answered, a smile audible in his voice. "At your service. I’m not nearly as nice as Flori, but I do enjoy making share holders and PR teams panic over stocks on the weekends. But I think you already knew that. Oh, I have a cat, Powder, she’s very sweet."

You found yourself smiling a little at his description and the way his voice grew fond and warm.

"Also, I’m deathly allergic to peanuts," Ashton added. "And I cry every single time I watch Pride and Prejudice."

"I can attest to that," Florent answered dryly and Ashton barked out a brief laugh, raspy and brightly amused.

You curled up against your couch, hiding a smile against your knees. You were still quite upset, deep down, but something about this conversation eased your heart a little. Took away some of the ache and that unsure uneasiness that you felt around them.

"Anything else you want to know?" Ashton asked.

"Not now," you said and hesitated. "But maybe we can talk again later?"

"Anytime you want," Florent promised. "We’ll be here."

You said your goodbyes and hung up and slumped sideways into the pillows. You felt better and even hesitantly hopeful. You fiddled with your phone and wondered if rebuilding trust was that easy. 

*.*.*

It was not that easy, not at all, but slowly, with every conversation you felt less hurt, less backstabbed, less unsure. You knew that they had only wanted to help, but sometimes you woke up from a nightmare where you got the ring ripped away, frantically searching for it. It always took you a moment to remember that you didn’t need it anymore.

Sometimes you dreamed of tearing them apart and it didn’t matter. Not even in the nightmares where you died too along with them. A lack of empathy meant a lack of…anything, really. Anything that mattered, that made you human and kind and stupid and passionate and lazy and all the things that made up this existence on earth.

You had hard conversations with them and it helped that they never shied away from you when you allowed some of the hurt to bubble to the surface. You still hadn’t seen either of them, but bit by bit you allowed your closed off heart to open up again.

And before you knew it, you were ready to return to active duty.

"Don’t worry, I’m taking time off," Florent had reassured you. "You won’t have to see me until you’re ready."

It felt weird to return to work alone and changed. To no longer need the intently protected gloves and to walk the streets with only some occasional fights against a handful villains who wanted to test their mettle against you.

You used your powers faster than before, imagination leaping to your fingertips, eager and hardier and bigger than before. You created things quicker than ever and every creature was just a tad more dangerous than before.

Florent and Ashton did stay away like they had promised. And as one week turned to two, then three, you noticed their absence more and more. The break room remained empty, no friend and colleague there to greet you with smiles and flowers. No powerful and genuinely fun to fight villain seeking you out and handing over the off-switch for the world for a little while at the same time.

No warm hugs and friendly nudges, no promisingly lowered voices and excited grins, no flower crowns on your head and no murmured words that were promise and flattery all at once. 

You ended up calling your therapist and you had a long, tough session. When you left, your eyes were swollen from crying, but you felt like you could breathe properly for the first time in far too long. Your mind and heart felt blown clear at long last and you knew what you wanted.

"Hey," you said when you called Florent, the call getting picked up nearly immediately. Ashton was present too today, he wasn’t always, but often enough that calling Florent first was just easier. "Let’s meet."

*.*.*

Seeing Florent and Ashton again, entirely out of costume, was a little strange, but you were glad to see their faces. They smiled at you and Ashton’s faintly glowing eyes were soft and hopeful, never once straying from you.

A small flower bouquet laid on the table of the café, all your favorites rolled up in pretty paper.

"Hey," Florent said, the faintest of nervous undertones to his voice. "It’s good to see you."

You sat down across from them and realized that seeing them out of costume helped. You were still rather more nervous than you had expected, but the hurt was only a quiet ache now, no longer the fresh, bleeding stab that it had been previously.

"I still want to say sorry again," Florent admitted with an apologetic smile. You had told him to stop apologizing after the sixth time and you pinned him with a look.

"I heard you," you said. "I just…needed some time."

"You are entitled to that and more," Ashton agreed easily and waved over a waitress. "Order whatever you like, it’s on me."

"On you or the businesses you like to rob?" you couldn’t help but ask and his grin got delighted, his eyes going a bit sharper, a bit more intense like they did when you fought.

For a brief moment you wondered what battling him felt like now with your powers having grown fiercer. You wondered how far you could push, how little you’d have to hold back with Ashton. If you’d have to worry about actually hurting him at all when you fought him or if he’d meet you every step of the way.

Florent just sighed in fond amusement. "Don’t get him started," he said in a conspiratorial tone, though he didn’t bother to lower his voice. "He is quite passionate about that topic."

"They are just so stupid," Ashton said as though he couldn’t help himself. "And quite awful, really. Besides, I don’t touch the businesses that are actually good to their employees, you know."

You did know. You knew more about both Ashton and Florent than ever before now. The waitress arrived and you ordered and she left with a smile and brisk steps.

There was a beat of silence, before Ashton leaned forward and asked, "Have you seen the newest announcement for Janet’s books?"

You couldn’t help but light up, as did Florent and before you knew it, you were deeply in a discussion about your favorite book series. A book series Ashton and Florent were big fans off as well. And now those books were supposed to become a TV show and it was rather exciting.

Your conversation moved naturally without much issue at all, rolling from topic to topic as you ate and drank. You laughed and smiled and before you knew it, Florent excused himself.

"I’ll be meeting up with my mum in ten minutes," he said regretfully. "I’ll see you soon?"

"Yeah." You found yourself smiling up at him, then hesitated and you bumped your shoe lightly against his. "Come back to work, alright?"

His face lit up, relief and something warm and bright making him look as happy as you had ever seen him. "I will. And just so you know, the offer of partnering up still stands if that’s something you can see yourself doing." He glanced at his phone when it pinged and winced. "Shit, she said she arrived early. Please excuse me."

He briefly touched Ashton’s shoulder as he got up, sent you another smile and hurried out of the café.

"Want to go for a walk?" Ashton offered, gesturing at the good, if a bit cold weather outside. "We could talk more privately if you want."

You considered the offer, then nodded. Ashton paid and left a generous tip, before you got up. You made sure to take the flowers along and you soon found yourself walking through the nearby park with your former nemesis. Or maybe still nemesis? You weren’t quite sure what the two of you were now.

"You know, I still want to apologize too," Ashton said, looking ahead, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. "I know it sounds like I’m feeling sorry for myself, but I just can’t forget the way you looked at me."

Your light mood turned serious and you looked ahead yourself, watching some teenagers jostle each other, laughing at whatever one was showing the other on her phone.

"I wish you would have done it sooner," you found yourself saying at last. "Before I got so attached. Maybe then it would have been easier."

He winced. "Yeah, you’re probably right. I just…" He hesitated, then sighed and his shoulders slumped a little. He smiled a little as though he couldn’t help himself and it was the softest smile you had ever seen. "I think you don’t know how amazing it is to fight you. How you light up when you get to cut loose a little or how little you are afraid of my powers. You never were. Most people run away the second they get close to the void."

He huffed a soft noise, amused and so warm it made the slight chill of the early autumn air disappear. "And then I got you to talk to me, to banter with me. You’re so quick on your feet and you are so damn funny." His small smile faded. "But you are right. In my desire to hold on to those moments for just a little bit longer I ended up hurting you worse."

He tipped his head to look at you, those faintly glowing eyes serious. "I’m usually a pretty selfish person and petty as fuck too, but I messed up here. I shouldn’t have let my feelings get in the way." 

He looked ahead, a wry twist to his mouth. "When I realized what you meant to me, I knew I’d never get to be close to you again if I went through with our plan. That I’d never get to talk with you like that again."

You fiddled with your phone in your pocket, shifting your other hand to once again press your thumb against the spot where the ring used to be.

"I don’t want you to stop," you found yourself saying quietly. Ashton beside you jolted, his surprised gaze meeting yours. Hope made his eyes a little brighter, even as he visibly tried to reign himself in.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly. "I will respect your choices, no matter what." His expression turned hard as he looked away, his shoulders tensing and hunching a little, making him appear smaller. "I will never again ignore what you say."

You looked ahead and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"If this is going to work, we’re going to couples therapy," you said and you heard the sharp breath he took. This time his hope was almost painful to look at.

"Of course," he said. "I’ve been seeing my therapist about this mess myself. Do you have a couple’s therapist in mind? Or should we go to one of ours?"

You mulled that over. "Let’s try ours first, if they agree," you said. "If that doesn’t work, we’ll look for someone specialized."

Ashton nodded with an open, still so very hopeful smile. You noticed the way he pulled his hand out of his pocket, as though he was about to reach out, when he immediately pulled back again. Without much thought, you offered your own hand, not looking at him.

His skin was warm and his palm and fingers calloused when he took your hand as though it was the most precious thing in the world. It made your chest both feel tight and too full.

"Can I still flirt?" he asked after a moment of silence and you found yourself laughing briefly, softly.

"Don’t you dare not to."

"Nicknames?" Ashton asked, that excited, wild-edged smile appearing on his face as he shuffled a step closer to you, still holding your hand so very gently.

"Let’s hear it," you said, unable to stop yourself from smiling back.

He lit up as though he had waited for this moment for ages. "Darling Treasure, brilliant Menace, amazing Foe, my lovely Nemesis -"

You couldn’t help but laugh and duck your head at the same time, flattered and flustered. "Those are just compliments."

He leaned forward a bit to meet your gaze, that wild smile looking downright, well, downright goddamn besotted. "Maybe," he said. "But they’re all true to me."

You had no idea what to say, but whatever expression was on your face, he seemed quite happy about it.

"So, darling Nemesis," he said, that wild-edged smile still on his face even as his voice turned soft and low, the way it used to during your most exciting fights when he’d murmur right by your ear. "Will you let me take you out to dinner?"

You looked up at him and your smile took on a teasing note. "Should I?"

His smile grew into a grin, eyes glowing just a little brighter. "I’d say so. I could take you somewhere cozy and private or fancy and expensive. I do have company money to spend." His grin got a little toothy at those words. "Or I can go and cook you something, set up my little backyard with fairy lights and flowers and in the end we’ll still eat on the couch because Powder will trap one of us the second we dare to sit down inside."

You felt yourself softening. "I haven’t had a good home cooked meal in forever," you said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. His hand shifted, his fingers interlacing with yours. 

For once you didn’t need a reminder that the ring was gone and no longer needed, not when his skin pressed warm against yours, his hold secure. There was no space for dinged, cold iron.

"Then I better do my best," he said softly. "Maybe I’ll even get you to fall in love with me one of these days."

You didn’t tell him that you were halfway in love with him already. That you had been for months and that, once you had worked through a large part of the emotions of the ring incident, those feelings had slowly, gently, bubbled to the surface again.

"Maybe it won’t take as much effort as you think to get there," you said and when you glanced at him, his expression was so open it almost hurt to look at.

"Darling Nemesis," he said, quiet and reverent and so very lovingly. "You are truly the brightest, most amazing person I ever met." He reached up with his free hand and you realized you had stopped walking. His fingertips brushed your cheek, leaving streaks of warmth behind.

"My perfect nemesis," he whispered. "If only you knew how brightly you shine in my eyes."

And when you tugged him a little closer, shifting up to meet him, he pressed a warm, smiling kiss against your cheek. Maybe not everything was perfect, you certainly had some shit to work through together, but you knew you could do it.

His hand was gentle, his touch loving, his fingers elegant and strong between yours and you smiled at the lack of rings you felt, the warmth that was there instead.

Yeah, things were going to be just fine.

*

Taglist:

@permanentlydepressedpigeon @thesaltofcarthage @those-damn-snippets

#my writing #short stories #short story #heroes and villains #hero x villain #this one became very soft #and very long #but what else is new #will I ever write things that aren't soft? #who knows #I certainly dont #I hope this was a fun read! #and that I didn't overlook too many spelling mistakes #i had a blast writing this

[mossy-paws]

Lightblox (PHIGHTING!)

“And I’m floating in a most peculiar way, And the stars look very different today.”

alt versions:

#Her…. #I whipped this bad boy up in probably around 2-3 hours #Funny story though #a good 40% of this was finished while watching mean girls the musical in theater LMAO #idk i just find that really ironic LOL #Anyways RAAAAH!! #honestly kind of like how this came out! #It was originally supposed to be a small animatic type thing with the song cats on mars but with lightblox #But I decided against it after I finished the sketch #Anyways I had a BLAST with filters on this one #Also thank you to the people who suggested that I give her a tail :3! #Alrighty now I’m gonna go work on some writing stuff and comms! #For once I’m actually not posting something at 3 in the morning #back into my little hole in the Everglades I go! #art #artists on tumblr #phighting! #phighting fanart #digital art #phighting #phighting roblox #roblox phighting #phighting art #david bowie #70s music #lightblox phighting #lightblox #Lightblox PHIGHTING! #phighting! art

[jimlingss]

two years!! :D it’s been two years since my final curtain call and seven years since Jimlingss began! Seven years!!! Now that’s a crazy yet meaningful number!

Hello to everyone reading this message :D hopefully you remember me (it’s ok if you don’t) and for those who care, hopefully this is a treat! just a quick update on my life — I successfully completed my first year of law school and what a whirlwind it’s been. 

I’ve had so many ups and downs in the past year and I honestly feel like I’ve changed a lot. like evolved from pichu to pikachu. It was my first time moving away from home, away from my parents, and making so many friends. it’s been 20% bitter and 80% sweet. overall, I feel like I’ve learnt so much about myself and became a lot more stable in who I am.

school is hard but completely manageable. luckily, I don’t think my choice was wrong. there are days I quite enjoy what I’m learning. I got 2 years left in the game. soon (hopefully) I’ll be making the big bucks $$$ and I’ll be able to fund my sugar baby dreams (except I’ll also be my own sugar mommy). Although my dating life is as stale as always with 0 movement, I’ve become close with a handful of folks that I hold dearly to my heart. guess I’m in my friendship arc hahahaha

funny enough, I actually came back to this blog out of my own volition 2 weeks ago and re-read some of my stories. I feel so nostalgic. some of my stories really slap ngl. anyway, I really miss creative writing so much. Fortunately, there’s a few extracurriculars at school that allow me to write creatively so it’s somewhat of an outlet for me. it’s not fully satisfying but it’s something!!

I regularly come back to tumblr to check messages and do plagiarism checks lol. Speaking of which, I’ll take this time to answer some messages in my inbox.

unfortunately, i don’t have any socials that anyone can follow me on. my socials are pretty private and only the people who i’m close to, I follow and vice versa. but no worries because I will always come back to this blog to do a yearly update so you’ll hear from me! I will satiate your curiosity if you’re every curious about what I’m up to!!

for anyone who ever messages me compliments to my stories and/or missing my presence, no worries, I read them all :) your messages and feedback is never lost! it’s very sweet and always warms my heart.

if you can’t reach my masterlist, it’s here lol

I’ve kind of fallen off my fic reading game so if you ask me if I know a specific fic, I won’t be much of help unfortunately ://

if my fics ever help you through hard times, then I’m super glad!!! life can undoubtably be downright terrible. life can really really suck (understatement). but I think it’s comforting to know that everyone at some point thinks the same. it’s a universal sentiment - and in that, you’re not alone.

anyway, that’s it for now! you’ll hear from me again!

I’ll be back! And I hope you will too! :>

#also more updates I guess - I did indeed travel to Japan this year! #it was a blast #in terms of the book writing process #my brain has not been operating in that way so I still am at a standstill #I actually had a dream recently that I couldn't even write a poem #hahaha my book writing dreams haven't died tho - I'LL DO IT ONE DAY #on another note - I haven't been keeping up with BTS that much #other than knowing that Jin and Hoseok have headed off to the army #which imo is a good thing cause that makes us one day closer to an ot7 album again #also Jimin's solo slaps #Like Crazy and Alone are on my playlist woooo #what bangers #I hope everyone has been doing well #I am manifesting success and money and love for everyone who reads this WOOOOOOOOOO #Jimlingss

[jazzfordshire]

you missed a spot over there (zine fic 2022)

Happy to share my final @supercorpzine fic, and what a long strange trip it's been amiright? Endlessly proud of all the work the mod team has put into these last few years, and thrilled to have been one small part of the whole process.

“I’m Kara. Lillian hired me? To clean the pool?” It all comes out like a question, and the girl raises a dark eyebrow. She looks about Kara’s age, and she’s so freaking beautiful that it makes Kara feel stupid.

“I suppose she was finished with the last one, then,” the girl mutters. She’s so pale that she almost glows even under the big pool umbrella she’s sitting under, and after a second of sizing Kara up she pulls her sunglasses back up and goes back to the large book in her lap. “It’s not worth the money, you know.”

“What?”

The girl turns a page calmly. “She’ll eat you alive.”

OR

When Kara is hired to clean the Luthor’s pool for the summer, what she wants more than anything (besides a good journalism internship) is to muster up the courage to ask Lena out. There’s only one thing in the way – Lena’s mother, and her wandering hands.

Read it here!!!

#supercorp zine #supercorp zine 2022 #i had a blast writing this one and i'm absolutely loving everyone else's contributions

[the-raging-tempest]

🌹 Love on the Bloodstone Rose - Ophenia Thwait 🌹

💕 Lariel and featuring @aelyosos’ lovely lad Ocean 💕

#my art #oc: lariel #friend oc: ocean #I’ve been in my pirate era and been writing a little pirate au for the twins #having a blast and obviously I thought of THEE pirate #Ocean is such a charming fellow and I’m so glad Sam humored me so!! #now I ship it though #Lariel would have the world biggest crush on him #she don’t know what’s coming LMAO #he’s too charming *faints* #this started from a more classic bodice ripper type pose #but that doesn’t suit Lariel so I went for more a #she slipped and he caught her and now 😳 💕😳 #truly i had so much fun with this thank you Sam 💕💕💕 #I redid Lariel’s face like one million times and FINALLY #im happy with it #pwotr pals #made a fake book title for our beloved author oc #pirate au

[gilears]

it's so hard to believe (but i'm trying to change)

1.4k, fig missing scene, canon-compliant

Fig follows Quincy home after warlock class for two reasons and two reasons only—the first reason is because he’s suspicious and may pose a security threat for (future) President Applebees. The second reason is because he’s a narc and a shitty bitch. (or: fig goes on a walk and thinks about gilear.) (read on ao3)

this week's follow up is about the fact that gilear still hasn't, like, even reached out to fig at all to let her know that hes gonna be gone for... a year? because what the fuck, man.

#fh #fhjy #fantasy high #fig faeth #storytime #sorry i just love hurting her #this ones shorter and a little loosey goosey-er #but i had fun! #been on a lizzy mcalpine lockdown this week i hope i did the vibes justice #shoutout to me for getting this done in the face of the Symptoms #it has been such a blast writing these each week btw #great exercise in not being so fucking precious about it all #and riding the wave of inspiration and just having fun with it! yay!

[deejadabbles]

@sinfulsalutations @dystopicjumpsuit Alright, you guys asked for it. @blueink-bluesoul you should be part of this party too

Thank @corrieguards and this post for starting all this

Warnings for: being complete filth, hair pulling, marking, praising, dirty talk, and Tup most definitely NOT being a shy virgin.

EDIT: I posted a full length version of this ficlet, so if you like this, check out the full fic <3

You were fairly certain the sheets were going to rip if you gripped them any tighter.

His lips, his teeth, his tongue, they were working in perfect harmony against your skin. A almost violent moan left your throat when he bit down yet again, another addition to the marks he left across your shoulder and neck, his marks.

"Love it when you moan like that, mesh'la," Tup whispered against the blooming blemish, hot breath fanning over it like a feather light touch. "Love it when I can mark-" he paused and raised his head a little, eyes on the fingers curled into the sheets.

A soft tut tut noise sounded from his tongue.

"Mesh'la," this time, it was almost a scolding, "you know that's not where your hands belong."

Your throat was so dry as you tried to swallow, his words making the ache between your legs pulse. Fingers slowly uncurled from the fabric and reached up to him. With loving care you traced his temple, and tucked some stray curls behind his ear.

Tup closed his eyes, humming at the contact with sensual delight.

Slowly, you started threading fingers through his wonderfully soft locks, letting your nails graze his scalp, and relishing the little moan he let out.

The moan turned to a delighted cry when you grabbed the hair and pulled.

"Yes!" Tup's voice almost cracked as his head snapped back, hips jutting forward as if on instinct, and you hated that your panties got in the way of his already hard cock. His grin was wide, wolfish, even, as he looked down at you through half lidded eyes. "That's my girl," he praised, "so good for me, giving me what I like."

That's when he started moving.

Careful to keep your hands in his hair, Tup started at a teasing pace, lips now trailing down your body. Grazing between the valley of your breasts, nipping over your stomach, and kissing across your hips.

A flash of white teeth met the waistband of your panties, pulled it back, and let it snap against your body with a small slap. Then, he was gazing up at you again, that familiar haze of need and adoration darkening his eyes.

"You gonna hold on tight while I enjoy you?" His tone was just as wicked as his eyes, "Gonna use my hair to take what you want from my mouth?"

"Yes! Maker, yes- Tup, please," you couldn't even care how needy you sounded, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was telling you to abuse his curls in the filthiest ways.

Tup's fingers hooked your panties and began dragging them down, down. "That's my good girl. Don't forget to use your nails too, love it when I can still feel them on my scalp the next day."

Then those lips and tongue and teeth were diving into your wet cunt. The fingers tangled in his hair did not disappoint him.

#I just poured all this out in one go so sorry if it's not up to my usual standards #I just had to get it out cos Tup NEEDS more smut #pull that man's hair plz #deeja writes #tup x reader #clone trooper tup x reader #Eat It by megan thee stallion blasting in the back ground

[giggly-toybox]

By the way thank you for taking my request can you please do a part 2 where ilumi's darling asks him if they can paint his nails

Illumi with an s/o who paints his nails

Alright last request before I go to bed :) but this one was really fun! I hope you like it :D

He didn’t understand why you wanted to

He didn’t see the point but eventually he allowed you to

I don’t think he really cares about doing things that are “feminine”

He’s disguised himself as a girl for missions plenty of times

Bro just kind of stares at you the entire time

It’s actually pretty pressuring because his gaze is so damn intense

He’d point out every little mistake you made

“You smudged it” or “You missed a spot”

He’s not trying to be rude he’s just trying to help you

After you finished he looks down and stares at them for a while

“They look nice”

Don’t let his lack of words get you down, he genuinely really liked them :)

#this one was really fun! I had a blast writing it :D #hxh #hunter x hunter #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #proshippers dni

[strawmyberry]

thank u for the kyle tickle hcs... him being the most ticklish out of the m4 AND being weakest to light tickling is SO IMPORTANT TO ME

you get me anon!!! lee kyle is so cute!! so cute in fact- i got a little surpriseeee! thank you all so much for all the kind words on my first fic!! im so glad you guys liked it 🥹 soooo…here’s another one!! i hope you guys like it!! thanks again!!

— ❤️🍓 strawberry 🍓❤️

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

B for Broflovski!

Lee Kyle / Ler Stan

Word Count: 4,229

With Kyle panicking over the “horrible” grade he got on his History test, Stan puts a little extra effort into convincing him that “B” doesn’t always have to stand for “Bad.” In fact, to him, it stands for something a thousand times better.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Stan knew Kyle was a perfectionist. Kyle knew Kyle was a perfectionist. The entire town of South Park knew Kyle was a perfectionist; yet, somehow, despite that, Stan was never really prepared for when Kyle would have one of those days.

“It’s bullshit, dude! I’m telling you; it’s fucking bullshit! Mr. Garrison has some kinda’ personal vendetta against me. I fucking hate him! ‘Fucking asshole, it’s ridiculous!”

Stan had gotten used to walking quickly besides Kyle since Kyle had the tendency to walk and talk, especially when he was in a bad mood. Luckily for Stan, he was pretty good at keeping up.

“And Cartman? Oooh, ‘fucking Cartman? I’m going to kick his ass- I deal with a lot of shit from him. I take it! I suck it up and I take it! But this? I’m done. I’m going to shove my foot so far up his ass- I swear to god-“

Stan had tried a million strategies when it came to this issue, and he had found that the best thing to do was to let Kyle get all of it out of his system. Let him ramble, eventually he’d get tired of it. After that is when he’d be able to talk logically with his, figure out what to do next.

“The only reason he got an A was because he cheated off of Tolkien. But, of course, Garrison doesn’t see it! As if it’s not the most obvious thing in the world! It’s so fucking dumb dude, I seriously can’t- Ma, I’m home! Stan’s here too, we’re gonna go upstairs, okay?”

Okay, Stan had to admit, it was a little funny how Kyle’s rage was like an on and off switch when it came to his mom. He’d be cursing up a storm one second and the next he’d go all Positive Paul on him. He’d shout a quick hello to Kyle’s mom too, because…manners, before following Kyle up the stairs and into his room.

“It just- It pisses me off so much! It’s not fair- I studied so hard for that stupid test!”

Stan would place his backpack next to Kyle’s dresser. He’d proceeded to chase the redhead around his room a little bit, stopping his endless pacing for a second so he could take the backpack off his friend’s back. He’d plop it next to his own before throwing himself onto Kyle’s bed, already getting himself comfortable. Knowing Kyle, this could go on for…god know how long.

“I fucking hate South Park…”

Kyle loved to rant and rave, yeah. It always made him feel a lot better- since he was able to get all his anger out without punching a hole in his wall. But…he could only talk for so long without breathing. So, he’d take a small break, just so he could regain his breath. Kyle would turn back to Stan- only to see the position he was in.

Stan was laying in his bed. Yes- yes that’s what beds are for- but Stan was laying in his bed. Like, laying in his bed. Head amidst a sea of pillows, body sinking slightly into the soft mattress, limbs languidly sprawled across the bed; the whole works. “Oh- sorry, ‘you done?” He’d ask, his words muffled by all of the pillows around his head.

“Uh…no. Not yet. Sorry- I can stop if you’d like-“

“No! No, keep going. I’m all ears.”

“Ooookay…?” Kyle would nod, confused as hell. How long had he been like that? How didn’t he notice before? Why was he messing up his pillows? Well- now he couldn’t remember where he had left off. He’d stare at the bed post as his mind wandered, trying to retrace his steps. Oh! Yeah! Hating South Park!

“…I think today was stupid.” Kyle would start, starting the tirade off slowly. “Everything about it, yeah, but the changing seats thing was really stupid.” He’d continue, the momentum slowly picking up as he spoke. He was getting the hang of it again!

“I mean, I get the changing seats thing. But I told him! I said, “Mr. Garrison, please keep me next to Stan. He keeps me focused.” Which is true because you’re one of the only ones in class who isn’t a total moron. And even when you are- you don’t do it to annoy me- you just-“

“Wait. Uh-go back? …Why am I being called a moron? What did I do?” Sitting up from his extremely habitable position, Stan would raise his left eyebrow; his face laced with confusion. Stan would usually listen to everything Kyle had to say before talking, but that little comment about him just threw him for a loop.

“Huh? I’m not calling you a moron, dude.”

“Uh…you just did though?”

“Did I? Really?” A flicker of his own confusion would cross his face, accompanied by a subtle furrowing of his brow as he stood there for his moment. He’d tap his foot, humming a bit as he thought before it clicked. Kyle’s face would turn white. “Oh shit.” His eyes would widen, quickly holding his hands up in defense. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that…I don’t think you’re a moron…sorry..”

“No, I know. It’s okay, man, really!” Stan would give a reassuring smile, letting the comment just slide off his shoulders. “You’re upset, dude, it’s all good.” Stan had gotten used to that too. Kyle was a very…passionate person- he’d go really big when it came to his rants. Stan knew better than to actually take offense to anything Kyle said when he was in one of those moods.

“Yeah…It’s just- maybe I get Garrison not putting us together because we’re Super Best Friends. I mean- I don’t really get it- but I could see the logic behind it. But, at the very least, he could’ve sat me next to someone who wasn’t a total asshole! Sit me next to Craig! He’s quiet! Or Tolkien! Tweek! Jimmy! Butters! I would’ve been fine with anyone! Anyone! Except, Cartman! And guess what happens! Guess who I get sat next to! Guess!”

Stan would nod along as he listened, staying sat up this time instead of going to lay back down again. He wouldn’t really notice he was supposed to answer the question at first. He thought it was rhetorical! After all, he was literally there. He saw all of this happen already. But…okay? He’d play along? “Uh…Cart..man?”

“Fucking Cartman! I’m pissed, but I’m like: “OK, whatever, I can deal with this, no big deal.” But then, I’m in the middle of the test- the test. ‘You know? The thing where you’re supposed to do your own work and shut the fuck up while you do it? And for some goddamn reason-he just won’t shut the fuck up! And I’m thinking: “Is it really that hard to just shut your fucking mouth for five seconds?” But, whatever, I studied for this test so I’m gonna get a good grade on it! Right? No! Fucking no! ‘Cause it’s let’s all dog on Kyle day! And I think his voice was just so fucking grating- I just forgot half of the shit that I studied! He fucked me! He literally fucked me!”

Man. Who needed TV? Who needed Assassins Creed, Indiana Jones, and Lego Batman when you had Kyle Broflovski as your super angry, Super Best Friend? He was basically free entertainment at this point! Stan’s eyes would follow Kyle around the room, and Kyle was moving so much it looked like Stan was watching a tennis match.

“-And you know what really upsets me? ‘You know what just irks me like just a little bit? The fact that I know I’m gonna have to walk in the school tomorrow, and Wendy is gonna come up to me-and she’s gonna be like, “Oh, Kyle! How did you do on the history test? I’m really happy with my grade!” And I’m gonna have to be like, “Oh yeah, Wendy! I’m sure you are!” And then she’s gonna rub it in my face like she always does-“

“What? Wendy doesn’t rub her grades in your face…” Stan would, admittedly, get a little defensive at that statement. This was his girlfriend they were talking about! And…well- she wasn’t here to defend her own honor like he knew she would’ve liked to- so he was gonna do it for her! “Wendy wouldn’t try to make you feel bad about yourself, Kyle-“ Stan would start to say, cutting himself off when Kyle randomly pointed his index finger at him.

“You know what’s funny? I knew you were going to say that!” Kyle would argue, his eyes lit with a combo of satisfaction and frustration. “I knew you were going to defend Wendy! You’re biased, Stan!”He’d accuse. “She rubs her grades in my face all the time! You just turn a blind eye to it because you’re biased!”

“What are you talking about? Dude, if anything, I’d be biased towards you. I’ve known you longer.” Stan would jump to defend himself, rolling her eyes as he did. “I’m sorry if she’s hurt your feelings, Kyle, but I’m sure there’s no bad blood there.” That was a bit of a half-assed apology. Again, Kyle was ranting- so Stan had no idea if he actually meant half of the shit he was saying. He just wanted to resolve the situation.

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure it’s not a big deal to you! You’re not the one who’s gonna be ridiculed for getting a B on the test!” Kyle would retort, crossing his arms as he huffed.

“I’m sorry…what?” Stan looked stunned. Staring at Kyle as if he had three heads, Stan would open his mouth to speak- just to cut himself off before he managed to say anything. He was trying to think of a nice way to put this. Really really hard. “…Run that by me again?”

“Don’t be an asshole! I got a B, okay?! It’s embarrassing- I know!”

“…Dude.” Stan would pinch the arch of his nose, letting out a long, irritated sigh. “That’s what this is about? Seriously?” He’d clarify. “…This whole time, I thought you had gotten an F- or, at the very best, a D. You got a B?” Stan wasn’t even mad, honestly. Actually, he was a little bit impressed. “Kyle…” At this point, Stan couldn’t help but laugh. There was no way this was actually happening. “A B is a good grade, dude. You have nothing to worry about.”

Now, Stan knew he was one to say stupid things sometimes- but this time, he could’ve sworn that what he said was actually a little bit smart. But the look Kyle was giving him? It almost made him doubt himself. Kyle was looking at him as if he had just said he puts milk in the bowl before the cereal. His jaw would drop, holding his hand out in front of him in shocked horror. “…You did not just say that to me.”

“Kyle, seriously, you’re wigging out over nothing!” Stan would try to explain, getting up from the bed. “You don’t need to beat yourself up over this. It’s just a B! A B is, what? …80%? That’s good! That’s really good!”

“I can’t believe you’re actually telling me this right now! You have to be shitting me! Do you even know what the B stands for, Stan?” Kyle would ask, the look on his face saying that he already knew the answer. “Do you? Do you, Mr. Isaac Newton? Care to enlighten me?”

“Jesus Christ…” Stan would grumble, rolling his eyes yet again. He’d stand there for a second, shrugging the question off. “…I dunno, brilliant?”

“Brilliant?” Kyle would repeat. “Brilliant?!” Kyle’s eye would twitch, as if Stan had just said the most absurd thing he had ever said. “No! It stands for BAD. Bad, Stan! B. A. D. Bad!”

“B doesn’t stand for Bad…” Stan would state. “F stands for bad.”

“Bad doesn’t start with a F, Stan!” Kyle would scream, frustrated. “B stands for Bad, Bummer, Buffoon- think of a word that starts with a B- nine times out of ten it’s a negative connotation! It’s the most obvious thing in the world!”

“I know that YOU’D be happy to get a B- but I’m perfectly valid in being upset about it! God!”

Ouch.

The air in the room was tense; and the silence that came after Kyle’s groan didn’t really help that. They’d stare at each other for a solid minute, waiting for the other one to say something. In that moment of stillness, Kyle had to opportunity to realize how mean what he said just sounded. In that moment, Kyle would brace for impact. He expected Stan to scream at him- or storm out the door and never come back. But…Stan didn’t do any of that.

Stan would take a deep breath. A long one. “…Okay.” He’d say, breaking the silence. “You need to chill out.” Kyle would open his mouth to apologize or, at the very least, give Stan a verbal agreement- but Stan would quickly cut him off.

“You broke Baseball Rules.”

Kyle’s eyes would widen. Shit. No. No- he didn’t. Did he? Oh god. No- he definitely did. Fuck! “…Y-You didn’t tell me we were playing Baseball Rules.” Kyle would hold his hands up in defense, backing up slightly.

“I don’t have to tell you when we’re playing Baseball Rules. That’s the whole point- we don’t have to repeat the rules, they’re just in place.” Stan would remind, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face. “You said three really fucked up things about me. Three strikes. You’re out. You broke Baseball Rules.”

Baseball Rules was a game created by Stan, a game that Kyle reluctantly participated in. The rules were simple, whenever the two were in an a little tiff, if either of them slung three insults in a row, they’d strike out.

Stan made the game in order to prevent the two from blowing up at each other, and it worked pretty well! But, admittedly, Baseball Rules wouldn’t be half as effective if it weren’t for what came after you struck out. That worked like a charm every single time.

“Stan, wait…” Kyle would try to reason, glancing behind him quickly to try to get an idea of how far he was from the door. Maybe he could run if he tried hard enough? “I’m sorry, dude…I don’t think you’re stupid, really-“

“I know you don’t!” Stan would cut Kyle’s apologizes short, stepping forward with the attempt of cornering him. “I’m not mad at you! But…rules are rules! If I let you get away with it this time- where do I draw the line, ya’ know? I’m sure you understand.”

Kyle would yelp at Stan stepping forward, quickly turning himself around to dash around him. “Just this once! I’m really sorry- I won’t do it again! I’m not upset anymore-“

“That’s great!” Stan would exclaim. “I’m glad you’re not upset anymore! But it’s the principle of Baseball Rules. I really wish I didn’t have to! I wanna let you off easy, really!” He didn’t. He knew he didn’t, Kyle knew that too. Just like how Stan knew Kyle well enough to know that he’d try to run around him; that’s why he’d turn as well, cornering Kyle officially.

“Stahahan!” Kyle would stumble backwards, his legs hitting his bed. He’d sink to the floor, already beginning to kick his legs. “It’s just a made up gahahame! Plehehease!”

“I’m not even touching you yet!” Stan would tease, wiggling his fingers right above Kyle’s hips. “I’ll go easy, okay?” He’d sink down right after him, sitting down in front of him.

“Noho! Nohot okahay! DohohOHOHON’T-“

“Don’t tickle your ears or your neck. I know, I know!” Stan would cut Kyle’s desperate pleas short, abruptly beginning to drill his fingers into his hips. “You’d think I’d know how to tickle my Super Best Friend. I can’t believe you’d think I wouldn’t! You cut me deep, Kyle.”

“That’s nohot-!” Kyle would shake his head, cutting himself off as he started to impulsively swing his arms in defense. Kyle was way too ticklish as it was, but Stan’s constant teasing was making it a thousand times worse.

“I knowww, that’s not what you were going to say. You were going to ask me not to tickle you, and…” Stan couldn’t keep the shit eating grin off of his face. “…you know I’m not gonna do that.” He’d laugh, fighting back the urge to make fun of how red Kyle’s face was.

“Stohohop ihihit! Plehehease, I’m sohohorry!” Kyle wouldn’t even last ten seconds before pleading for mercy. That was one of Stan’s favorite things about playing Baseball Rules, besides being able to hear Kyle’s laugh. That was always first on the list.

“I know you’re sorry! I forgive you!” He’d reassure, managing to dodge every punch Kyle threw at him. “Let’s do this, okay? You let me get a few words out, and then I’ll let you go, okay? I’ll stop tickling you once I’m done.”

Kyle wasn’t 100% sure how legit that offer was. Normally, Stan would stop when he wanted to- so it really depended on how merciful he was feeling on that day. For all Kyle knew, Stan could just say sike and keep going. But…at the same time, maybe he wouldn’t. If anything, he might as well take the bait.

“Okahahay okahahay!”

“Okay? Great!” Stan would smile, moving his hands from his hips to his sides, squeezing them as he began speaking. “I get that you like getting A’s. That makes sense- everyone likes getting them. But it’s okay to not get them sometimes. You shouldn’t be stressing yourself out about your grades, you’re doing an awesome job with them.”

“Buhut-“ Kyle would start, just to be cut off by Stan suddenly skittering his fingers against his ribs. “SHIHihihit!! Ohoh my goHOHOhod! Dohohon’t doHOHO thahahat!!” Kyle would squeal loudly, his eyes flying open as his kicking and punching intensified.

“I’m not done yet!” Stan would sing-song, poking in between each rib for each syllable. The shit-eating grin on his face would only grow as he continued. “As I was saying; you’re doing awesome, dude! I’m not saying you shouldn’t focus on your grades- i’m saying you shouldn’t stress yourself out about them.” Stan would clarify.

“Your grades don’t determine how smart you are. And, either way, you have some kick ass grades, dude! You are the smartest person I know, Kyle-“

“Thahahat’s nohohot trUHUHUE- OHOH MY GOHOHOD- FUHUHUCK OHohohoff!!”

Stan would jokingly roll his eyes at Kyle’s cackling, shaking his head softly. “I’m barely even touching you!” That was true, all he was doing was fluttering his fingers over his stomach. Of course, he knew how effective that was- he just chose to play dumb. ‘Made things more fun!

“It is so true.” Stan would insist, his tone genuine and honest. “…And if you even try to tell me I know Wendy, I’m gonna roll up your jacket. Don’t fuck with me.” He’d playfully threaten. “Wendy doesn’t count. Wendy- Wendy is different. That’s the thing- you guys are both smart. And we’re allowed to have two smart people in South Park. With the amount of morons we have- god knows we could use ‘em.”

“Kyle, I wouldn’t be calling you smart if you weren’t. You are so smart, dude! You know fucking Pig Latin! Do you know anyone else who knows Pig Latin?”

“YOHOHOU!” Kyle would retort, doubling over with laughter. “YOHohohou knohohow pihig lahatin tohohohoo!” He’d would swing at Stan’s face yet again, not expecting it to horrible backfire like it did. Stan would take the swing as an opportunity to snake his hands under his arms, quickly skittering his nails all over his armpits.

“Because you taught me it, Kyle!” Stan would exclaim, having to hold back his own laughter as Kyle shrieked. “You ran right into my point! You make me smarter! I would be a total moron if it weren’t for you! Do you know the amount of times I’m stuck on something and I think to myself, “What would Kyle do?” You’re a genius, dude!”

Maybe it was the fact that he was laughing so hard, or maybe it was the surplus of compliments Stan was dumping onto him. But, either way, Kyle was bright red; practically screaming with laughter as he tried to sink himself into the floor. An effort that was obviously in vain. His arms were slammed tightly down against Stan’s fingers in an effort to protect himself; of course, not even realizing until after the fact that it was having to opposite effect.

“S-STAHAHAHAHAN!”

“Okay, okay I’m almost done!” Stan would quickly say, yanking his hands out from under Kyle’s arms; moving them back to his stomach, lightly skittering his fingers again. “All of this is to say- you’re being too hard on yourself! You are more than a grade you get on a test- putting aside the fact that a B is already a good grade!

“And- you know what? B doesn’t stand for Bad!”

And with that, Stan would still his fingers. The two of them would sit there, Kyle immediately noticing how Stan didn’t seem to be making any attempt of getting up. He’d still be giggling from the aftermath, eyeing Stan up and down expectingly.

“…One more thing.”

Of fucking course!

“…What does B stand for, Kyle?”

Oh shit. Shit. He was fucked. The truth of the matter was Kyle had no clue. It obviously wasn’t Bad. But…he didn’t really know what answer Stan wanted from him. From the expectant look on Stan’s face, he obviously already had an answer in mind. Kyle would think long and hard, searching every crevice of his brain in the hopes that somehow, someway, the answer would magically come to him.

“…Beheheautiful?”

“Ohhh…that’s a good one..” Stan would say in mock amazement, beginning to turn; as if he was about to get up. Kyle would let out a sigh of relief, thanking the universe for sparing him this time. The funny thing about that, though? He wasn’t. Stan would swiftly turn back around, making a buzzer noise to signify that Kyle had gotten the wrong answer before blowing a quick raspberry on his neck.

It all happened so fast, Kyle didn’t even have time to say anything- the only thing that left his mouth was a screech; jolting so hard that he yanked himself away from Stan, falling onto his side. He’d quickly scrunch his neck, along with covering it with his hands.

Kyle was too busy giggling on the floor to realize that Stan had gotten up, walked back over to Kyle’s backpack, and came back with his water bottle. He’d sit next to him, offering his hand to help him up. Kyle would hesitantly take it, a relieved sigh escaping him as Stan pulled him up- no strings attached.

“Broflovski.”

“Whahahat?”

Kyle would raise his eyebrow with giggly confusion. Stan had never referred to him by his last name. They were strictly on a first name basis! Stan would return the confused look with his own confused look. After a few seconds, his eyes would widen as he realized why Kyle looked so confused. He’d shake his head, beginning to chuckle softly.

“Noho! Broflovski! B is for Broflovski!”

It would take a second for Kyle to understand what Stan was saying. Once it clicked, Kyle would turn to Stan, a fed-up smile on his face. God, he was cheesy. He’d hold out his hand as Stan gave him his water bottle, glancing at him again before rolling his eyes and taking a sip.

“What? You don’t like it?” Stan would tease, elbowing him as soon as he closed the cap to his water bottle. “It makes sense! I thought it was funny! Broflovski! It starts with a B- and it’s your last name! Get it?” Stan would repeat, his eyes bright with excitement.

“The more you repeat it the less funny it gets.” Kyle would jokingly groan in annoyance, even scooting a little further away from him! For bit purposes! Stan would scoot right after him, the giddy smile still on his face.

“…Can I tell you something?”

“If it’s B for Broflovski again, I’m gonna hit you.” “It’s not! It’s not.” Stan would say, the smile on his face never wavering. Kyle couldn’t help but smile with him, ushering him to continue with what he was going to say.

“I’d take a Broflovski for life over an A on a test any day.”

Maybe it was stupid for Kyle to be as grateful as he was for Stan. He knew he had a bit of a temper when it came to things like this- and he knew he could be a huge handful at times. But, for reason, Stan stuck by him. Maybe he was bored? Maybe he had nothing better to do, no one better to be with?

But when Kyle looked at the pure happiness on Stan’s face, he couldn’t help but feel like that wasn’t the case. It made him happy, knowing that Stan enjoyed his company just as much as he enjoyed his- even when he was being dramatic. They were Super Best Friends through thick or thin, no matter the circumstance. That felt…nice.

“Thanks, Stan…that means a lot.”

#MY SILLIES 🥹 #im so normal about their friendship you guys #THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE ON MY LAST FIC🥹 #I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS ONE TOO #(also wendy and kyle are academic rivals i don’t make the rules) #aaa! this was so much fun to write i had a blast #lee!kyle #ler!stan #south park tickles #strawberry writes

[honeylikewords]

together. (jack russell)

jack and his wife celebrate the gathering of friends and family. (pregnancy arc!)

(warnings: food, mentions of meat, mentions of the very real likelihood of pregnancy :>, jack being surprisingly flirty and physically affectionate at a family gathering. just a really short fluff piece! word count: 2.2k)

(for context, the idea for this fic is that Jack owns a cabin in the woods and has invited his monster friends and family out for a feast!)

Jack prods a large rack of ribs with a thermometer, expertly needling the meat between the bones and checking the temperature in one swift motion. Noting the number flashing on the small screen, he turns a knob down on the grill and shuts the lid over the meat, trapping the heat and smoke within. As he turns around, he beams at his wife, hands in the front pockets of his bright green apron emblazoned with the words “SMOKIN’ HOT GRILLMASTER” in flaming font.

“Should be ready in, eh, twenty minutes?”

“Oh, good, then we’re on schedule.”

His wife reaches past his hands into one of the pockets and pulls out a printed sheet that had been folded into a tiny square so many times that the paper had gone soft, then flicks it open. Scanning down the list of main courses, she eyes the side dishes, baked goods and desserts, each listed with an appropriate prep time and step taken. Scheduling had been a pain, but it was a necessary task; trying to coordinate feeding this many people in a timely manner was no small feat.

Inside the cabin, a timer goes off, and Jack perks his ears, head tilting slightly in the direction the sound came from. His nose lifts and he inhales, a smile spreading across his face, and he puts his hands on his wife’s hips, swaying her playfully.

“I cannot believe how good that stuffing smells, cielito,” he grins, squeezing her hips for emphasis. “You’re such a good cook. The best, probably, in the entire world.”

“Hope it tastes half as good as it smells,” she shrugs, trying to humble herself in the face of Jack’s effusive glee, but he merely giggles and presses his nose to hers, shaking his head.

“It’s going to be perfect; it already is! I can smell it!”

He’s been bright-eyed and bushy-tailed all day, for some reason, all-too-happy to fetch things for her and run kitchen errands and clean up the myriad dishes left in the wake of their work. He’s been hovering as well, even as the guests began trickling through the trees and bushes; Jack would sense them coming, whether by smell, sight, or sound and watch excitedly for their arrival, then tug her away from whatever she was doing to greet them, insisting on both of them being side by side.

The number of hands, paws, tentacles and claws she’d shaken today as Jack animatedly introduced her to his friends, new, old, and in-between, was a blur, and as the cabin’s grounds began to fill with familiar and unfamiliar faces, Jack’s elation only grew. Now, with his hand pulling softly at the small of her back and the guests milling freely across the land the cabin sits on, he guides her, beaming, back into the kitchen to pull out the three trays of stuffing from the oven.

They sit, cooling, on the counter as Jack opens the lid on a massive pot of mashed potatoes and gives it an experimental swirl with a spoon, lifting some out and blowing on it before offering it to his wife; he holds the spoon gingerly to her lips and smiles that crooked, nose-wrinkling smile when she goes in for the bite.

“That was cute,” he remarks.

“What was?,” she mumbles around a mouthful of potatoes; she’s a little unhappy with the flavor and going to melt in another knob of butter and snip in a few more chives. 

As she goes to grab the chives and kitchen scissors, Jack leans back against the counter and plucks a nugget of stuffing from the tray, still steaming, and pops it in his mouth, cleaning his fingers with his tongue. She should scold him for eating too-hot food, or eating with his fingers, or something else, but she gets distracted by the sight (his tongue’s dexterity is quite noticeable and he’s smiling a bit too wryly for it to have been an accident), and has to blink away the fog left by it.

“Your face,” Jack clarifies, still chewing. “You made this little “ah” face. ‘S very cute.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re just very, very cute,” he continues. 

He pushes off the counter and comes to close the gap between them, pressing his chest to her back as she cuts the chives over the pot with the scissors and tosses in a stray lump of butter left behind by some other recipe. His hands gravitate low, to the softest part of her tummy, and he rubs a slow circle there, fingers knitting into the strings of her apron.

“You’re in such a mood today,” she teases, stirring the potatoes. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” he says as he pushes his nose into the shell of her ear, kissing the lobe and squeezing her in his arms. His hands stay on her belly, and she reaches down to pat him, then pinches the back of his wrist playfully. 

“Well, as much as I love it, Puppy, you’re about to get burned on the stove--”

Instead of pulling off, Jack tugs her back from the cooktop and into his arms, burrowing his face into her shoulder and holding her still, fingers splayed over her tummy. She lets her arms rest atop his and leans back, sighing; it does, admittedly, feel very nice for the two of them to take a break from the hubbub and just enjoy each other, even if they haven’t been apart for more than a few minutes at a time.

“I’m just happy,” he mumbles. His lips brush against her neck and his words tickle her skin, making her shiver and squirm happily in his arms, which only pushes him to double down on the tightness of his embrace.

“I’m glad,” she responds, but he shakes his head, nestling deeper still.

“You don’t understand,” he continues. “You’re… we’re… I’m just so, I mean-- es eufórico, es maravilloso! Es… I just…”

His voice fades and he holds her flush against himself; outside, she can hear a game of touch football between the other monsters resolving into a dogpile, but the sound is a diminished half-note compared to the present, forward reality of Jack’s breathing against her skin, his hair brushing against hers, his arms corded around her waist. 

He draws in a breath and continues.

“I get to have a whole family. You, and me, and…”

Jack’s wide, fever-warm hand is splayed against her belly, and she looks down at it as he traces one finger over the bump of the knot in her apron ties, which rests above her navel. He presses in softly; not enough to feel pushed on, but a light, tender application of pressure that reassures her of his intent, and of his warmth. 

She turns in his hold, placing her fingertips on his slightly stubbled chin, and the touch guides his head up to meet her gaze. His eyes glow half-hazel in the golden light of the kitchen, and they flicker over her face searchingly, hoping for something from her. She grants him a smile, one that crinkles her eyes and makes him instinctively smile back as his hand twitches; when she kisses him, his hand strokes against her like a kiss to her tummy, too.

They can let some of this food sit a few minutes longer.

Jack stands on one of the picnic tables in the clearing, puts his middle finger and thumb to his lips, and lets out an almighty wolf whistle that rips through the trees. Dozens of heads snap to attention and Jack waves his arms over his head, summoning the clutter of monsters towards the tables laden with food (and some laden with things a human might not consider edible, but that many of the guests were sure to appreciate). 

As they begin to trickle in-- away from activities like rag-tag sports, card games, and gaggling near screens playing the national parades-- Jack remains on the table, bending down briefly to lift a full champagne flute up and tap its lip with a fork. The tinkling chime rings over the crowd and, once again, his friends focus their attention on him, now encircling the table he is atop.

“Thank you all so much for coming,” he begins, smiling in that broad, effervescent way he does when addressing a group. 

She watches him from the other end of the table, seated at the head with an empty chair beside her reserved for him. In the setting light of the sun, the greys in Jack’s hair shine gold and what remains of the brown comes to life with fiery red hues, the beams tracing against his cheekbones and jaw and drawing soft shadows. His slightly more full upper lip curls over his crooked tooth as he casts her a quick glance and widens his smile, somehow, further still. 

He’s shed his apron and put back on his fineries for the night: a dark green pair of trousers and his second-favorite black button-up, the sleeves rolled into place and the collar opened. His leather shoes reflect sparks of the sunset back across the table as he shifts his posture, weight coming to rest on his back foot. He knows how to captivate attention, somehow: it comes naturally to him, a sort of inherent magnetism that is uniquely Jack’s. 

When he addresses them, he fixes his eyes on various members of the crowd, shifting attention to organically and individually speak to an entire group; she wonders how he ever manages to become shy when he’s this beguiling. 

“I am overjoyed to be here, today, with all of you,” Jack continues, his glass held delicately as he turns to look at the breadth of his party. “Not only with those of you who are like me, but especially those of you who are different,  each and all of us siblings to one another in this world.”

The crowd rumbles in agreement-- somewhere, she can hear Ted’s instantly recognizable grunting-- and Jack nods, extending his glass out to gesture at the people before him. 

In the mass she can see others she knows to be wolves, a pair of minotaurs, ghouls and a few members of the undead; pointed ears give away some of the docile vampires, whereas other loved ones defy singular description as any one creature, more aptly seen as amalgams or chimeras. She sees the bright eyes of night-stalkers and the sloped shoulders of mountain-apes, and each face, though distinct, seems lit with a unifying ardor: they are home, among one another.

“On days like these, it is good to remember that none of us, no matter how unusual our circumstances, are alone: that through our trials, we find one another, and that we are here to love each other, even when the world seeks to convince us that we are unwanted. But, together, we are wanted,” Jack states.

“Together, we are loved.” 

He raises his glass high and grins. When he moves his hand, his wedding band burns bright in the last rays of the day.

“Together, we become family! Salud!”

He tips back the shimmering drink and others in the throng follow suit, cheering and drawing in sips of their beverages in celebration. Now finished with his address, Jack finally descends from the table and makes his way through the crowd, tossing his arm around friends’ shoulders or patting their faces, waving and laughing at his beloved family.

She loves to see him like this-- surrounded by those he loves, Jack becomes even more himself, fit to burst with all the joy he seeks to share-- and as he approaches, he turns his gaze to her, again, and her love multiplies.

He looks at her like she, herself, hangs the stars and the moon in the sky each night, like she’s every present that has ever been under the tree, as if she’s come home from a thousand years apart. Jack’s illuminating, radiant happiness is utterly compelling, and impossible to resist in its infectiousness; she finds herself beaming back in equal measure as he finally is able to pass through the crowd to near her.

Jack comes to sit by her side and places excited kiss after kiss against the side of her face, peppering them along her cheekbones and the tip of her nose as she shrinks into his shoulder. He tuts something about not being shy and tries to coax her out, but she obstinately hides herself in the warm haven of his neck and shoulder, both abashed at the idea of being so amorous in front of his family and divinely desirous of the closeness and comfort she has achieved in his hold. There’s a faint chill in the air as the night descends, and he’s blissfully warm; why would she ever leave?

“Alright then,” he teases, pinching her side and tugging her chair as close as possible to his own to throw his arm around her shoulder, “We’ll eat like this. I’ll get the fork and put it into that little cavern for you. Hm?”

“Works for me, Puppy,” she replies. 

“But, amorcita, please,” he implores, “If you don’t come out, who is Alan going to tell that awful story about the time he got trapped in a castle well for a week?”

Someone halfway down the table yells at Jack that it’s “hardly an awful story” and that it was “only a few days”, but the feeling of Jack’s shoulders bouncing with his laughter and the sound of it rippling through her ears is enough to make her want to pull free and see his elated face herself. 

Today was about their family, after all, she reminded herself, and she’d like to look at the father of her child.

links to previous fics in this series:

cubs.

familia.

penumbra.

bedrest.

thank you for reading! this was a short one but i wanted to get it out in time for the Dread Holiday; it was all written in ~3 hours, in one night, so if you see any errors... well, that’s why!

anyway, comments and replies are always appreciated, and give me immense motivation to continue these stories! feel free to let me know what you thought and what you’d like to see next!

#werewolf by night #wwbn #wbn #marvel #jack russell #jack russell x reader #not adding the misspelled tags this time Just To See #anyway i hope you guys like it!! this one is Very short compared to my usual standards but i had to write it in one sitting because #ive been siiiiiick and i wanted to get it out before the BLASTED DAY so. here it is!!! #yes im posting this at 3 am yes ill reblog multiple times tomorrow it is what it is!!!!

[good-beanswrites]

I skewed too far from the original request, (so you'll be getting another one with Es and this prompt soon) but for now have this 😂 It's based on that one sprinkler minigram, and uses @iris-drawing-stuff 's raincoat ideas for the other prisoners :3

When Es was told their duties would include watching over ten prisoners, they had expected escape attempts, lies and trickery, fights, or breakdowns. The reality was much worse. They had to keep ten morons out of mundane trouble. And the job was nonstop.

Today’s problem was a bit more intense than the usual stubbed toes and squabbles. Es had been surprised by the culprit behind the day’s stupidity -- after all, Shidou was usually the one stopping the others from causing mischief.

Though he would never admit to anything, Es was able to put the pieces together themself: Amane makes an offhand comment about missing the seasons. Someone with good handwriting anonymously requests a child’s raincoat and galoshes. (Unrelated, there was an issue with the request, and a dozen animal-themed raincoats had been delivered to the prison.) Then, burn marks appear around the sprinklers in Shidou’s cell, just the size of his little lighter. It wasn’t hard to see that he was the one that set off the major malfunction which was currently soaking every inch of the prison in sheets of freezing water.

At least they had extra raincoats. 

Es made their way to the panopticon, toolkit in hand. They had swapped their cape out for one of the raincoats. They’d turned it inside out in an attempt to hide the animal features. It made them feel more mature, which was necessary seeing as they had no experience with fixing sprinklers. As it turned out, neither did the prisoners. 

Two chairs had been precariously stacked within Shidou’s cell. Kotoko, wrapped in a wolf raincoat, stood on her toes at the top. She twisted the valve this way and that. Standing directly underneath, she avoided the brunt of the downpour. Kazui and Shidou stood at the base, one squeezed into a fox coat, the other, a shark. They both crossed their arms, offering Kotoko all of their observations and tips and suggestions. She ignored everything. It didn’t deter them from ‘helping.’

“Comin’ in hot!”

A black cat-clad Yuno hurried around the corner with a shout. Es stepped out of her way. She carried an armful of towels to stop up some of the deepening puddles. Mikoto flew by in the opposite direction to do the same. His dog ears flopped as he ran. Amane stood near the guard’s tower, entirely enveloped in her frog raincoat. She stood in perfect, calm silence, as if she were above all this nonsense. Es couldn’t agree more. Next to her, Muu openly sobbed within her calico cat coat.

No one seemed to notice as Es cleared their throat. “That’s enough,” they tried, “I can handle it from here.”

Kotoko didn’t even glance their way. “Let me just try one more thing. I’ve almost got it.”

“I’m telling you, it just needs a little twist,” Kazui urged her.

Es was bumped aside as Fuuta dragged another set of chairs into the cell. His raised voice was undermined by the mouse raincoat pulled over his head. “I told you, you’re doing it all wrong! Lemme at it.”

“I’m serious. As warden, I --”

Their protests were drowned out by Mahiru’s voice from behind. They turned to find two bunny raincoats bouncing along. 

“This way, Haruka ~!” With much enthusiasm and grand hand gestures, Mahiru directed him to set down some industrial sized buckets at regular intervals. “Perfect…” They quickly began to fill.

Shidou pointed. “Right there, can you move that piece?”

“I already told you,” Kotoko grit her teeth. “I don’t need to touch that.” She wobbled atop the chair.

Fuuta had climbed onto his own stack. “You guys aren’t fucking listening.” He reached out, but Kotoko swatted his hands away. “Hey!” It was his turn to teeter.

“Yuno, I need more towels, stat!” At Mikoto’s urgent call, Yuno came sprinting past. 

Es opened their mouth to stop her, but it was too late. Her foot slid through a puddle. With a cry, she was thrown flat on her face. 

Mahiru gasped. Trying to run to her aid, one of her uniform straps hooked on a bucket near Muu and Amane’s feet. She yanked it forward.

The splash rose up and soaked their uncovered legs. Muu sobbed harder. 

Haruka, of course, wanted to help. He immediately ran into another bucket, sending him stumbling and splashing to the ground.

“Oi, Yuno! I said I needed another towel!”

Kazui made another comment on the sprinkler. Fuuta leaned in real close to get a better look. With a huff, Kotoko tugged on the valve. It jammed around so that the wide spray converged into a single, high-pressure stream. 

The jet aimed directly at Fuuta’s face. 

His sputtering cursing followed him the long way to the ground. Shidou and Kazui leapt to catch him as he fell. Both miraculously forgot that their shoes rested in several inches of water, because their arms flailed wildly for each other and the fallen chairs as they slipped.

Es’ frown twitched.

“Idiots. They’re all idiots.”

#milgram #es #and everyone else but i wont tag them all #(i hope you dont mind the tag - i just love those raincoats ;-;) #normally id say 'eh close enough' but i reeeally want to stick to the original request which involves them all genuinely having fun #its what they deserve :') #no matter how much fun *I* had writing this theyre not quite having a good time here asdfsdf #(honestly tho - this just popped out and i had such a blast with it that i didnt stop haha!) #you know that one pose dads do when theyre 'supervising' you fixing something #hmm i do wonder what animal es' coat was originally -- i couldnt decide on anything i liked #i wouldve done a rabbit (for jackalope) but two others had that already #just try to ignore the horrible implications with amanes experience with water/rain 💀💀💀 shes okay here i promise !!!! #no fuutas were harmed in the making of this drabble #whats that one tweet - 'he died but hes okay' #drabbles

[chibishortdeath]

Ok stupid rant, but I’m sick of looking up a game and only being able to find guides and wikis made by people who obviously hate the game they’re writing information about.

I was looking for guides for the hedge maze portion of Castlevania 64 because I was stuck in it and couldn’t visualize what the layout of maze looks like (turns out, it’s not technically a traditional maze, aka one route to the exit, which helps a lot) and the only guide I can find is one on gamefaqs or something where the person cannot contain themselves from constantly interjecting to say how much they don’t like Malus cause “ugh overdramatic cutscene, his parents are dead who cares, he looks like a girl” or how they hate the game cause it’s too hard and annoying and “oh boy as if this game couldn’t get worse”.

And like dude! Sincerely! Shut up! I don’t care! I just want to know what I’m supposed to do! You are allowed to dislike the game and express your opinions, just please keep those to a little ending opinion section or a review!!! Stop breaking up actual instructions I can’t keep track of what you’re telling me to do!!!!!!!!!!!

And I saw something similar happen on a different smaller wiki-ish sort of website (it might have been the Castlevania Dungeon, I’m not sure. Definitely not Fandom tho.) on the Castlevania: The Adventure page when I was looking for some facts. Again, the person writing was constantly being all “not that this game is important anyway” and like! I literally don’t care if you don’t like the game that’s not what I’m here for!!! Heck the website even had some misinformation on the page too saying that Christopher was Simon’s grandson in that “or whatever, it doesn’t matter” kind of tone! Like!!!!! Shut up!!!!!!!!!!!! I am here for factual information! Not a review!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s just absolutely annoying and now I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do in CV64 cause I can barely process what this guy is saying ugh.

#castlevania #castlevania games #akumajou dracula #text post #incoherent rambling #Castlevania 64 #castlevania the adventure #other Castlevania games get this treatment too sometimes these are just very recent examples I’ve run into #if I find the pages for both of them I’ll reblog this and link them idk #I don’t really wanna put anyone on blast or anything #anyway AUGH #Like literally don’t write an informational article if you can’t keep it informational #making a couple jokes or something is fine just please do not break up the instructions for it #the one Adventure page also said some stuff about promotional material saying Chris was Simon’s grandson and nuh uh man #I’m not taking that as fact until you put some scans or some sources #I would understand if they had any mention of the development stages where Chris and Trevor were almost the same character #that was a weird developmental period where they then figured Trevor is 200 years before Simon and Chris is 100 years #but they didn’t even mention that??????? #nor did they mention any of the advertising with Simon instead of Christopher?????????????? #idk man I’ve seen a lot of advertising and media for the older classicvanias and never have I seen ‘Chris is Simon’s grandson’ #idk it’s weird if anyone can confirm or deny that claim I’d love to see it!!!! :3 #editing to add this here but like man we need a new wiki so bad

[japhan2024]

What about Anthony being very jealous when he finds out that Amanda had kissed Ian in her audition when they were improvising together?? Ian and Anthony don't have to be together in this already just Anthony being jealous! Or they could be together and be jealous of Amanda doing that before Ian and Anthony got together??

Falling

Ian and Anthony were smoking expensive cigars and drinking hard liquor as they celebrated their acquisition of Smosh. They sat on Ians balcony and were howling with laughter. Both from their jokes and from general happiness to be together and vibe so well, after all these years.

"So, I watched your funeral roast video," Anthony said, one eyebrow raised.

"That was pretty epic," Ian giggled.

"I couldn't help but notice something!"

"What?"

"You were very quick to judge SMASH on Amanda. There seems to be some sexual tension between you guys," Anthony had a laughing fit after saying that, so badly that Ian had to laugh too.

"Nah you idiot, she's married!"

"So what?"

"Wow, that's cold."

"Even so, I see what I see! There's something going on there!"

The truth was, Anthony had certainly seen it and played the moment on loop for a whole afternoon, overthinking and overanalyzing. Amanda had been dressed up as Ian's mom, which was weird (and hot). "You scare me so much. SMASH." Did he like scary women? Why?

"Well, if you MUST know… we kissed."

Anthony resumed his fit of giggles and almost choked on his cigar smoke. He got up from his lounge chair and leaned heavily on the banister. His head was spinning. They KISSED...

"Hey bud, I think you should go a bit easy on the substances now," Ian laughed but his brows were somewhat raised.

"So, give me the TLDR of what happened bro." Anthony wanted to know everything. Every minute detail, how her lips had felt... how his lips.. had felt... did he look at her like he looked at Anthony when he seemingly casually but actually fully intently changed shirts in front of him? Did he... did he touch her hair, her face... her body...

"Alright," Ian said as he shook his head ever so slightly. "So, she auditions, right. And she's hilarious. We were doing a scene. And we just kept messing with her but she wouldn't budge, absolute professional. But I think she read the room in how far she could go and she just went for it!"

"Whaaaa! How did it go down?"

"Well, she stood where you're standing right?" Ian said, as he stood up as well.

"And I stood like here." Ian took a few steps towards Anthony.

"And she said in this horrible Australian accent: "Are you from Australia? Because I see that you have some great koala-fications." You know how I can't resist Australian jokes. And then she just grabs me…"

Ian grabbed Anthony by the waist.

"And kissed me like that! Only she was leaning down as she is so much taller than me, which is very hot, I'll admit."

Anthony half laughed, half whimpered. Having Ian this close while this intoxicated was a dangerous combination. And Ian was drunk too. He always did crazy shit when he was drunk. Would he go for it and kiss Anthony? Why did Anthony want to be kissed? His mind was racing, his cheeks burned, and his heart behaved like a Brazilian drum band. He took a step back and tripped over his own feet, falling backward, over the banister.

"Anthony!" Ian was laughing as he held on for the dear life of his best friend, who dangled upside-down from his balconee.

"What the fuck, Anthony!"

"Get me up!"

"So, do you agree to a 20-80 ownership of smosh, me getting the 80 of course?" Ian joked.

"Fuck you!"

"Hey, my head is against your dick, I'm sacrificing a lot saving you!"

"Just pull me up!"

Ian got Anthony on the balconee again. They sat there, panting for a while. Then they resumed their laugher.

"Oh my god, did that just happen?"

"That was kind of insane. But also kind of hot."

"Yeah, you like that, huh, I bet you wanted me to kiss you!"

"Maybe."

"Idiot."

"I love you, bro. I just got you back. Now, don't die on me, okay?"

"I'll try my best not to."

"Alright! Better..."

Anthony felt moved by Ian's words, the adrenaline still rushing through his body. He grabbed him around the waist and hoisted him onto his lap, while still sat on the ground.

"What did you do that for?"

"I want to prove something to you."

Anthony was determined. He just almost died. He couldn't waste any more time. Ian felt very warm on his lap.

"However hot that kiss was, this one's going to be hotter."

Anthony cupped Ian's startled face in his own tattooed hands, blinked slowly, and gave him the best smolder he could muster at the moment. He leaned in, slower and slower, he heard Ian's gasping breath against his face.

"I love you too, Ian," he crooned. "And it's about time I show you what I truly mean by that."

#Anthony Day #Anthony's Day #ianthony #this is the last one!! i had a blast writing these #thank you everyone for sending prompts :3