#i just thought the colors looked great on him and i wanted his visor to be pink LMAO

[cuppajj]

got inspired to revisit my old concept of SG!Drillburst! rough backstory under cut

Shattered Glass Drillburst was a popular electro-funk artist by day and mercenary by night. While he was branded an Autobot and his music was admired by some of their most notorious, his sympathies lied with the Decepticons. He would eventually begin to make songs with secret messages within them for them to decode, full of Autobot secrets he learned in his mercenary business. Unfortunately, his cover would be blown when his incriminating messages were uncovered by the Autobot Blaster, and Drill was arrested and sent to Garrus 9 as a traitor. There he was subjected to brutal punishment by the sadistic warden, Fortress Maximus, who had been an avid fan of his music. Cruelly though, this admiration of Drillburst wouldn’t necessarily translate to leniency, but rather more attention on him. Drillburst would be freed when Garrus 9 was attacked in a liberation campaign by Skyquake, then Overlord in his place; and after months of brutal fighting that destroyed most of the prison, the massive Decepticon found him among the rubble and rescued him. Drillburst had been one of the only surviving prisoners in the attack.

Whatever Maximus put him through in Garrus 9 has deeply scarred Drillburst, but he's tried to move past it. While he continues to write and produce music, he has personally sold them himself as his record label had dropped him. He also keeps small for his own safety, in case the Autobots have put a bounty on his head. He lives aboard his own ship, traveling across Decepticon friendly zones on Cybertron and in the stars beyond, living a simple life in hopes that one day, his notoriety among the Autobots who once listened to his music will eventually be forgotten. He still continues his mercenary work on certain days, and performs for other Decepticons and neutrals during his travels. He hopes that someday he can return to the stardom he once had, beloved once again by both sides of the war--but how wishful are those thoughts?

[sixeyescurseuser]

part 2

“Satoru? What color are your eyes?” Geto asks one day, when they’re sprawled on the couch together. Gojo’s head is pillowed on Geto’s chest, where the snakes happily nestle in Gojo’s fluffy hair. 

“Hm, blue.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Geto is silent for a long moment. 

“I bet they’re magnificent,” Geto says, then startles when Gojo lifts up slightly, one hand tugging underneath the blindfold. “Satoru, whatever you’re planning to do, stop it.”

“Darling, I’ll keep my eyes closed, I promise,” Gojo solemnly swears. He waits until Geto gives his consent before lifting the blindfold off, diligently keeping his eyes glued shut.

Geto observes the shape of his lover’s closed lids, how his eyes contribute to his facial structure, and the white color of his lashes. 

“Pretty, right?”

Geto nods. “Hn.”

Geto still doesn’t trust himself without the trusty barrier of the blindfold.

Thus, he brings a hand up to cover Gojo’s closed eyes, and leans in for a kiss.

***

Gojo buys Geto a pair of his own special-grade glasses that block Geto’s entire field of vision, ensuring he can see perfectly fine while others will never make direct eye contact with him. 

It’s certainly an adjustment for Geto because the glasses, shaped like visors, feel very restricting. His snakes hiss at the glasses because they don’t don’t like not being able to see Geto’s eyes. 

But the glasses do give Geto more confidence in leaving the cottage to prevent him from freezing any innocent bypassers. 

***

Once, when Geto is out on his own, he spots a couple kids wearing the same style uniform as Gojo often does. Jujutsu Tech!

Geto decides to watch over them. 

Thank fucking god he did, because there’s no way in hell whoever the fuck is in charge just let these kids walk straight into a curse’s domain. 

Before Yuji switches with Sukuna, Geto intercepts and annihilates the other special grade, even without the powers of his eyes. Once the job is done, Yuji jogs up to his side.

Yuji: “Hey, thank you so much-GAH?“

At the speed of light, Geto pulls Yuji out of the crumbling domain and disappears.

The first years are completely bamboozled by what happened!

(Yuji: “Gojo-sensei, that special curse showed up again today! Well it didn’t need to help because Kugisaki and Fushiguro and I had everything handled, but I could feel it watching. Isn’t that weird?”

Gojo: “Huh, that is strange indeed.”)

Afterward, Geto presents Sukuna’s finger to Gojo. Gojo realizes Geto was looking after his students, and falls even deeper in love with him. 

***

Yuuta learned early on who Geto was because once Geto was watching over him but Rika was not having it! 😭

She was like “Who is this beetch?” and tries to off Geto, who flees and never looks back. 

The snakes want to pick a fight with Rika so badly, but Geto has to shush them because he’s not sure even HE could take on this kid’s curse. 

Also, Geto is technically supposed to be exorcized. That’s what Gojo told the higher-ups, that he had successfully defeated the infamous curse Geto Suguru. 

Gojo has to do damage control, of course. 

“You have Rika, and I have Suguru,” Gojo says with a shrug. “Simple as that.”

Beside him, Geto’s jaw drops open from the total lack of explanation by the fool that owns his heart. From behind his glasses, Geto pities the way the wheels furiously turn in Yuuta’s mind. 

Rika pops out jus to growl at Geto. 

Great. Good talk everyone. 

Yuuta: “You’re telling me you’re in love with THE special grade, Geto Suguru, who’s been alive for centuries and has been constantly compared to the king of curses, SUKUNA??”

Gojo gives him a thumbs up while Geto smiles with sharp teeth. 

***

Gojo Satoru is known as the strongest sorcerer alive, but that doesn’t stop Geto from being incredibly protective of him. While out on a date, Geto brings up the higher ups that clearly do not give a shit about overworking his beloved.

“Say the word and I’ll kill them.”

“I thought you didn't like killing?” Gojo asks with a cheeky smile. He takes a sip of his milkshake, then bumps his foot against Geto’s under the table. 

“Satoru, I’m a curse and they are assholes. It’s the natural order of things,” Geto sniffs. His snakes hiss in agreement, very excited at the prospect of killing for Gojo. 

Gojo extends his hand out, palm facing up. Geto slides his hand on top. Interlocking their fingers, Gojo conveys all the adoration he can through his uncovered eyes, hoping it penetrates through the special-grade glasses Geto wears.

“I love you too. My one and only.”

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

[keanuquotes]

The Enduring Appeal of Keanu Reeves He battles evildoers in 'John Wick 4,' manufactures two-wheel pieces of art, and is worshiped by the internet, but Keanu Reeves swears he's just a normal guy. And he’s got the scars to prove it. Ky HendersonMar 15, 2023 9:00 AM EDT It’s easy to look cool when you’re riding a motorcycle, but it’s hard to look cooler than Keanu Reeves on a brisk, sunny afternoon in Los Angeles. He rests his left hand on his thigh and steers with his right, which gooses the throttle as he weaves around slow drivers. He wears a form-fitting black canvas motorcycle jacket that accentuates how trim he is—even more fit than he appears on-screen—and a beat-up Shoei helmet. He leaves the visor up, choosing instead to shield his eyes with sunglasses the Terminator might wear to a Hamptons garden party. Reeves looks at home and at ease on a motorcycle. He looks cool.

At a gas station stop, he suggests switching bikes. We’re each riding cruisers made by Arch, the motorcycle company Reeves co-founded with designer Gard Hollinger in 2011. The company produces high-end, highly personalized production bikes; I’m on a 1s, the company’s new $100,000+ sport cruiser. Reeves is on an older model, KRGT-1, but it’s his personal Arch, a true one-of-a-kind. It's the only Arch ever painted YK Blue, a color Reeves and Hollinger commissioned based on the ultramarine pigment famously mixed by mid-century French artist Yves Klein. Reeves says all that’s left of the paint is in a tiny can stored somewhere at Arch in case the bike’s paint ever needs touch-ups.

Which it most certainly would if, let’s say, some idiot were to put the bike down in front of a horrified Reeves while riding down the Pacific Coast Highway. Thankfully, there’ll be no lowsides today. Although the bike is beefy, with a 2,032cc V-twin powerplant, it’s easy to maneuver and comfy as a BarcaLounger.

Keanu Reeves stands in motorcycle factory holding blue mug Brian Bowen Smith

Reeves eventually leads us back to Arch’s factory building, which is nondescript from the outside but artfully decorated inside using shipping containers to separate working areas. Metal fabrication is done behind one; customer bikes are lined up in another with technicians hard at work. After Reeves dips outside for a cigarette—the 58-year-old both looks like a much younger man and smokes with the frequent abandon of one—he leads us to a small conference room.

“I like meeting people, but I’m a little reserved,” he warns as he settles into an office chair, looking far less comfortable than he did on a motorcycle. “How much of my private life do I want to talk about? I don’t know. Otherwise, let’s hang out.”

When Reeves was growing up in the Yorkville neighborhood of Toronto, he was consumed with existential thoughts. He discussed death a lot more than the average 11-year-old, for instance—but not because he wanted to die. He just wanted answers to big questions. Perhaps not entirely unrelated to his interest in mortality, he was also obsessed with the biker gangs that periodically motored into the neighborhood. It wasn't pods of dentists letting loose on weekends. It was leathers, patches, menace—the whole deal. And Reeves loved it.

“They looked exotic,” Reeves says. "They looked to me like they were free. Plus the bikes were cool and sounded great.”

Despite his childhood fascination, Reeves was in his early 20s before he first rode a motorcycle. It happened at a movie studio in Berlin—where else?—when he saw a woman on an off-road enduro bike in a parking lot. He approached her and asked if she’d teach him to ride, which she agreed to on the spot. (If you’re wondering why a woman would do that for a total stranger, search “Keanu Reeves in the 80s” in Google Images.)

Not long after he got back to Los Angeles, he bought a 1973 Mk2a Norton Commando, having long admired the classic brand. That bike currently sits in the Arch shop, which is notable for two reasons: One, few longtime riders are lucky enough to be able to hold onto their first bike. Two, over the years Reeves has…suffered some mishaps.

“Yeah, I’ve fallen off a few times,” he admits of the accidents he’s had on a variety of bikes. He takes a swig of water, then corrects himself. “Not ‘fallen off.’ Crashed. I’ve got a couple of hit-by-cars. A couple of going-too-fast. I’ve laid a couple of bikes down but I was riding in the winter, so that’s not really ‘crashing.’ That’s about it. The usual stuff.”

He’s broken ribs, knocked out teeth, sliced his leg open so deep that bone was visible. His most spectacular accident occurred in 1988, only a couple years after that day in Berlin. Reeves was riding alone at night in Malibu’s Topanga Canyon when he took one of the twisties too fast. By the time he came to a stop, he was lying on the pavement wondering if he was about to die. As you know, he didn’t—but he did fuck himself up pretty bad.

“I ruptured my spleen,” he says matter-of-factly. The widely reported version of the story goes that he needed the organ removed, but Reeves says it’s still intact. “They sutured it up and put a Band-Aid on.” He has a gnarly scar running vertically from his sternum down to his belly button, but in the right light it just ends up accentuating his abs because, well, he’s Keanu.

Reeves first met Hollinger through a mutual acquaintance about two decades after that crash, when Reeves wanted a custom sissy bar—basically, a backrest for a passenger—added to his 2005 Harley Davidson Dyna. Hollinger, who at that point was a relatively well-known, well-respected customizer with his own small LA shop, wasn’t interested.

“I knew I could build him the world’s most expensive sissy bar,” Hollinger says, “but I also knew it wouldn’t be satisfying for either of us.”

Instead, Hollinger spent the next five years completely reimagining the bike. He’d work in spurts, changing or adding something, then handing the bike back over to Reeves for months. By the time the bike was finished, Hollinger says, about the only parts of the original Dyna still remaining were the engine and the serial number on the chassis. Today that bike—a chromed-out ride fit for Mad Max—is displayed in the shop, the inspiration for what eventually became Arch.

Keanu Reeves on motorcycle wearing black canvas jacket and sunglasses Brian Bowen Smith

Eventually being the key word. When, during the long process of modding the bike, Reeves first suggested to Hollinger that the two team up to start a motorcycle company, Hollinger didn’t have to think about his answer.

“I knew what a tough business it is, what a challenge it would be—and that it would not be a great investment,” Hollinger, now 63, says with a laugh. “It was a wonderful motorcycle I built and it was wonderful getting to know Keanu, but starting a motorcycle company sounded like a horrible idea.”

Reeves didn’t relent. As the pair became better friends—and as the motorcycle continued to take shape—they’d have long conversations about the realities of starting the company. Hollinger would show up to their discussions with pages of questions written on a legal pad, but what gradually eroded his hesitation was the thoughtfulness with which Reeves described the experience of riding a motorcycle.

Finally, nearly convinced, Hollinger asked Reeves to boil everything down to one reason why they should do something as seemingly crazy as starting a motorcycle company. The actor came up with it on the spot—a reason Hollinger immediately understood, which allowed him to envision the company and its worth as an opportunity to do something meaningful and long-lasting.

“Because,” Reeves told him, channeling the mortality-obsessed 11-year-old kid gawking at dudes on motorcycles, “we’re going to die.”

Related: 2023 Arch 1s Sport Cruiser Is the American (V-twin) Dream

There have been many jokes made over the years about Reeves being a dummy, but after spending about 8 seconds with the guy it’s obvious he’s keenly intelligent. I mention that I read lots of sci-fi and fantasy books as a kid, which prompts him to ask whether I have opinions on several titles, followed by recommendations to read several others.

Thing is, his idiosyncratic public persona—which is sort of like Ted (not Bill) if Ted were a little more shy and a much better dresser—isn’t an act. Reeves isn’t trying to fool his critics or fans. And he isn’t really putting on an act in an attempt to prevent people from knowing who he is. He’s just this very singular, introspective, likable person who happened to become a pop culture icon.

All of that said? He can be pretty goofy. His physical mannerisms are sometimes at odds with what he’s saying, like he’s being controlled by feuding puppeteers. He speaks haltingly, stopping and starting and stopping again, often all in the same sentence, as he considers what exactly he wants to say or, just as likely, what he doesn’t want to say. More than once over the course of an afternoon he giggles—yes, giggles—at something he says or thinks, placing his cupped hand over his mouth like a theatrical school child hiding laughter; the gesture is as strange as it is endearing. He's somehow both laconic and verbose, calm and keyed up.

Although Reeves has long been known as “The internet’s boyfriend,” he’s currently dating—sorry, internet—acclaimed visual artist Alexandra Grant. The pair first collaborated on the 2011 book Ode to Happiness after having known each other previously; in the following years they collaborated on other projects and co-founded the small book imprint X Artists’ Books. Their romantic relationship began about five years ago but only became public knowledge two years in, when they arrived at a red carpet event together.

When asked about Grant, Reeves leans back in his chair as though trying to put both metaphorical and literal distance between himself and the idea of discussing his personal life.

So, uh, maybe it’s best to make it about bikes: What’s Grant’s opinion of Reeves’ (occasionally injurious) motorcycle fixation?

“She used to have a motorcycle, so she’s fine with it,” Reeves says. Then he pauses, as he so often does, seemingly considering whether to say anything more. “She hasn’t ridden in a while.”

Despite his lifelong love of bikes, Reeves hasn’t ridden them much in his movies. There’s a brief scene in the landmark 1991 indie film My Own Private Idaho. There’s some riding in 1996’s Chain Reaction, including one scene in which he manages to outrun an exploding hydrogen reactor. He’s technically on a bike in John Wick 3 while battling bad guys, but that was all done while stationary in front of a green screen. He has no interest in shoehorning Arches into his movies, though a couple of Arches are featured in the futuristic 2020 video game Cyberpunk 2077, in which he also played a major role.

Reeves says there’s a brief motorcycle scene in the upcoming John Wick 4, a movie whose eventual existence might have been laughed at when the original film debuted. Despite the series’ current status as an unstoppable franchise juggernaut, it originally wasn’t even planned as a franchise—and it certainly didn’t appear destined to be one after John Wick received a somewhat tepid theatrical reception in 2014.

“It had some success in the theater, but it really became more popular in second viewings,” Reeves says. “So the studio asked if we wanted to do another one.”

Reeves does more than just kick unbelievable amounts of ass in the movies; he’s also had a hand in plotting out the sequels. The genesis of the third and fourth installments, he says, took place while he and director Chad Stahelski were on the road promoting the second and third movies, respectively.

“Generally, Chad and I cook ’em up while we’re doing press tours,” Reeves says. “We talk about what we’d do next if the current film does well. I’m like, ‘I want to ride a horse and do a horse chase!’ And Chad says, ‘Yeah, we can do it in Central Park!’”

Reeves says he doesn’t know what comes next for him, but John Wick 5 will almost certainly be an option—if he wants to do it. He’s currently developing a TV series, and maybe he’ll make the motorcycle road movie he’s long thought about making. He’ll also no doubt continue riding bikes and growing Arch because he loves doing both.

He says he may continue BRZRKR, the comic series he co-writes. He won’t stop helping others via his philanthropy (he declines to discuss other than to say it’s “in health and the arts”). And he’ll burnish his already-glowing reputation as, in his words, “a pretty respectful and considerate person,” because that’s how he likes to treat people.

“I’m just,” Reeves says as his mouth curls into a smirk and his arms shoot out in front of him as though he’s pleading to be believed, “a normal guy.”

via keanuworld

[cyberdragoninfinity]

have been putting together Iliaster Pokemon Teams off and on fooooor the last couple months or so... I always like to put way too much thought into teams so under the cut I have all my reasonings for these choices. I like Pokemon and I like these characters a Perfectly Normal Amount <3

BRUNO/ANTINOMY:

Lucario: feels just very much like a good partner Pokemon for him...same shade of blue, very noble and loyal, EXTREME SPEED!! something something Lucario's innate aura reading and ability to sense emotions and thoughts vs. Bruno's complicated quest to figure out who he is. I think they would be friends!!! It gets amnesia too in whatever funny Pokemon AU Bruno's situation happens in

Skitty: obligatory Bruno kitty cat pokemon <3

Armarouge: T.G. Halberd Cannon/Blade Blaster type vibes, its pauldrons literally turn into a cannon, fire type echoing the sun in the Antinomy/Yusei duel, also a very loyal Pokemon. Plus bonus counterpart to Primo's Ceruledge >:3c

Rotom: silly little guy who likes motors and electronics and machinery!! Also Bruno having a ghost type and being. yknow. a robotic copy of a dead man. I think it suits him.

Yanmega: T.G. Recipro Dragonfly, it literally has eyes covered with a red visor, it's super fast and its design echoes a vehicle (aircraft rather than motorcycle, but still.)

Registeel/Regieleki: in Tag Force 6 Bruno uses and seems to really like Machina Fortress, so I wanted to give him a big 'ol bulky Steel Type. Antinomy gets Regieleki as a counterpart because it's literally The Fastest Pokemon, probably great for Delta Accel Synchro <3 Also Modern Age/electricity/android type invocations...

Porygon/Porygon2: Bruno needs a boxy little computer friend!! Antinomy gettin the evolved form since a big part of Porygon2's lore is that it was made for space travel...thinkin bout that duel again. The Porygon line, Porygon2 especially, also has a really similar color palette to Bruno's various forms!

Miraidon: ok ive seen people give Jack Miraidon and i get it, it's his color palette, BUT LIKE. THIS IS ONE OF THE MOST BRUNO POKEMON EVER. literal robot motorcycle from the future who washes up on the beach with limited memories!!! it has a silly goofy friendly form and a badass powered up fighter form!!! it can be the perfect counterpart to Yusei having a Koraidon!!! LISTEN.

LESTER:

Skarmory: Meklord Emperor Skiel of course!!! Violent metal bird moment!!

Wingull: in the Tag Force games Lester really likes the Stuffed Seagull Plush item and I think that's just so cute

Zorua: Little red-haired mischief-maker that can create illusions and false appearances?? IT'S PERFECT FOR HIM.

Klang: From the episode when he infiltrated the twins' school, he used Gear Golem the Moving Fortress....gotta give him some gears.

Durant: Skiel Guard! Little weird metal bugaboo :]

Iron Bundle: challenging myself to give all the Iliaster members (aside from Z-one) Future Paradox Pokemon...Lester of course gets the Bird one. It even shoots a laser like Skiel does!!

PRIMO:

Bisharp: god his whole team is just Mean Blade Guys but like. Look at Him. That's Primo. the way Bisharp commands an army of Pawniard the way Primo commands the Diablo also relevant.

Ceruledge: This is kind of the Primo Pokemon of All Time For Me--haunted grudge-powered knight that "cuts its enemies to pieces without mercy" with sword arms infused with "the lingering resentment of a sword wielder who fell before accomplishing their goal"--like... COME ON. DUDE.

Mega Beedrill: gotta shout out the iconic bee commentary of course, and also it's Another Violent Pokemon With Sharp Dangerous Blade-like Arms.

Melmetal: MEKLORD EMPEROR WISEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Scizor: Metal-clad evolution of a blade-armed beast, also violent and merciless. And it does the thing where it uses its pincers to look like it has three heads--funny for one of Aporia's components~

Iron Valiant: ANOTHER PRIMO POKEMON OF ALL TIME FROM GEN 9. LIKE!!! White robot with a big dangerous sword, created by a mad science supposedly, "said to be cruel enough to take its brilliantly shining blade and cut down anyone confronting it without hesitation"... THEY CANT KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH IT

JAKOB:

Mega Aggron: Granel <3 Big fuckoff metal monster. I also thought it would be fun to try and give the Three Nobles each a pure Steel type Pokemon for the Robot Funsies.

Barraskewda: For Granel's bizarrely fish-like canons and components--Barraskewda also being based on a projectile weapon a bonus, too.

Skeledirge: GOTTA give one of the Nobles something that ties into their sub opera singer namesakes, plus Skeledirge's Spanish influence is perfect for Jakob/Jose. And its an aquatic-based animal like all of Granel's components, too :^)

Alolan Golem: For Jakob's big old beard and eyebrow, PLUS it's a grumpy stubborn beast that launches electric rock blasts. Just suits him imo.

Ursaring: gave myself the added challenge of giving The Three Nobles each an unevolved Pokemon that Aporia has the fully evolved form of.... Jakob gets Ursaring for their matching surly expression and eye(s) plus the Guts ability boosting Attack when inflicted with a status effect is perfect for the Gaining Power Through Suffering motif of these guys <3

Iron Hands: Freakishly powerful big bulky electric robot monster!!! Yellow color motif like Granel!!! probably one of the most Meklord-y Paradox Pokemon, to me.

PARADOX sidenote it's so fucked up he just doesnt have a tag force sprite. sad!

Origin Dialga: Since his whole deal in BBT is having a deck of stolen Legendary Iconic Dragon Cards, i GOTTA indulge and give Paradox a bunch of Legendary Dragon Pokemon!!! Origin Dialga is for the time travel and also it's just a bizarre creature that feels on par with Malefic Paradox and Truth Dragon tbh. Plus it was created by Arceus, and Pdox was created by Z-one <3

Zekrom: GEE PARADOX WHY DOES YOUR MOM LET YOU HAVE TWO UNOVA DRAGONS... he's got that whole black and white color motif with his mask/the Malefic dragon armor. And Zekrom's got an engine...like a motorcycle...

Reshiram: Beautiful long haired bishie of a dragon plus the aforementioned black and white motifs. Also the concept of wanting to make a true AND ideal new future is really fun and kind of Very at play with Paradox~

Espathra: A.) im a Psychic Duelist Paradox truther, I rly wanted to give him a Psychic type, B.) Espathra is a violent weirdo that literally has his hair color palette/style. In my mind's eye this was his partner Pokemon originally ....Paradox with a Flittle is so funny to me.

Roaring Moon: if anyone deserves an Ancient AND Future Paradox Pokemon it's... WELL. THIS GUY. Malefics are almost all Dark Dragons so give him the freakish vicious Dragon/Dark that's like a twisted version of an existing monster (much like how Malefics are twisted versions of existing cards ;])

Iron Treads: Successfully continuing to give all the Iliaster guys Future pdox 'mons...Iron Treads is a big robot tire effectively which works great for a guy who motorcycles through time!!!

SHERRY:

Lunala: For that freaky Soul Binding Gate skeleton door, also a Pokemon that is brought under Necrozma's (Z-one's) power. Sherry having Lunala and Aporia having Solgaleo also just makes me a little insane.

Florges: FRENCH. FLOWER LADY. EASY PICK.

Rapidash: For Horse of the Floral Knights/Sherry's horse shaped duel runner...i love that she's a horse girl 🥴

Teddiursa: For that TEDDY BEAR!!! And also, again, her having a Pokemon from the same line as Pokemon Aporia has is just a fun detail for me.

Tsareena: 100% female. Floral Knights/Chevalier le Fleur. Kicks and fights triumphantly.

Iron Leaves: in general Virizion is already a perfect Sherry 'mon (grass horse, based on French literature, etc.) and I imagine she originally had one before it somehow Became an Iron Leaves when she joined Iliaster :^)

APORIA:

Solgaleo: i mean. He Just Looks Exactly Like One!!!! Also Steel/Psychic is a really good type for this big miserable monster lion angel robot. Plus it can be controlled by Necrozma.

Kingambit: Evolved form of Primo's Bisharp, a powerful and intense leader that fights primarily with brute strength. It's also got an ability that boosts its power the more of its allies fall (die <3) Power through suffering!!!

Silvally: Synthetic chimera of mishmashed fused parts created in a lab :) Can only evolve and reach its true potential through friendship :))) also giving him Silvally and Z-one Arceus just to make myself a little sick in the head.

Klingklang: Evolved form of Lester's Klang, mechanical 'mon that echoes the Ark Cradle's Sun Gear(s) that Aporia protects

Ursaluna: Evolve form of Jakob's Ursaring, hulking powerful bear with big claws and a back sail that looks exactly like Aporia's big metal halo.

Iron Jugulis: MEKLORD ASTRO DRAGON TRISKELION!!!! also a hydra like Aporia's duel runner >:D

Z-ONE:

Necrozma: first of all it kind of looks like Z-one's freaky life support+huge claws contraption second of all something something Infinite Light vs. Necrozma being a light consuming monster third of all the way it can dominate and lord over Solgaleo and Lunala. pounds my fists on the pavement.

Celebi: HE'S THE BIG BAD HE GETS AS MANY LEGENDARIES AS HE WANTS and he needs Celebi of course. Time Angel :)

Omastar: Freaky ancient Pokemon that resembles the nautilus shape of Z-one's contraption...also there's something about fossils being kept alive in there somewhere I'm sure.

Mimikyu: this is like. perfect for him tbh HDHGSDFG Wears the guise of another Pokemon and pretends to be it (and I would definitely give Yusei a Pikachu,) reacts with violence and panic when pushed into a corner, Fairy type (like all the Timelords are), competitively can fill the niche of being Difficult and full of underhanded status effects and tactics and I think that's just lovely for Z-one <3 In my mind's eye I like to think this was his partner Pokemon from even before The Yusei Factkinning Event.

Bloodmoon Ursaluna: Well it's literally got the odd 'device' clamped over one of its (weird glowing) eyes and also. For Aporia <3 That's Aporia <33 Z-one's giant time-displaced apex predator with a big weird circle on its forehead <3333

Arceus: THAT'S GOD BABEYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[dualglitch]

in your personal tastes from everything we have so far. also my own design notes/tierlist below the cut. pls add your thoughts

2nd/personal fave it's a close tie between nibbly and tinky for me but ill go nibbly. i really like tinkys true form/doll design but i wish the npmd costume incorporated more of that tealy blue contrasting eye/tongue color, it works so well. that wouldn't have translated super well on stage I guess? dunno slap some blue horns on him. or hey he already has goggles but theyre red?? make that shit blue.

first: wiggly. i like that wiggly is the eldest/leader and also has a design that most closely represents the 'classic' eldrich horror cthulu look! i think his design is just the most solid, there's really nothing id add or subtract from him. his palette of soft and dark greens look great and the yellow/red eyes are the perfect extra pop of color. not my personal fave but once again I think his design is objectively the most solid

nibblys doll design is eh but the stage version is just PERFECT truly could not envision him better. nibblys just a mouth so they were forced to get creative and god damn did it pay off. the visor and bangs drawing attention to the teeth is MWAH. also Kim was just the perfect person to cast for this.

pokey is also great. major props for how creepy he is, and the otho puppet in yellow jackets is just fucking ASTOUNDING. one of the reasons i view yellow jacket at the best nightmare time story ever. prob would win if it wasn't for just personal tastes here. stage design is pretty good too I just think those fur ruffs are kinda ugly. theyve all got a little fur on em somewhere and i think pokeys is the least well utilized idk

blinky is eh. I like the color palette and doll. I think blinky is even harder to conceptualize than nibbly but I feel like they could have done a reverse thing with blinky in some kind of mask that covers the mouth? Lauren slayed but the designs still the weakest

i guess it checks out that webby is the most normal since she likes humans/ she wants to look human for Hannah/lex, but eh I'm tired of the The Girl One Is Pretty trope, she deserves to be as eldritch and monstrous as the rest of them. i wish she was more spidery. maybe theyll drop a true form reveal at some point? i wish she had a doll. all in all she's just A Person. id like them to do a jane doe and give her some blackout lenses or somethin

ranking: wiggly nibbly tinky pokey webby blinky

[ally-writes-many-things]

Unexpected (E. Buckley)

Summary: You and Evan were best friends in high school but you two lost contact as he traveled the world but unexpectedly you saw him again.

Words: 1.9K

Prompts:

Requested: Yes A VERY long time ago

Warnings or A/N:

Buck gazed ahead, lost in his thoughts. You remained silent, knowing that eventually he would share them with you. After seven years of friendship, you both understood each other's unspoken cues. Meeting on the first day of freshman year, you had become inseparable. Buck was struggling with his future, feeling like an outcast in his own family, a feeling you could relate to.

Despite having a crush on him, you never confessed your feelings, content with having him as a close friend. "I just don't know, (Name). I want to explore the world, discover my potential, but I don't know," He finally confided.

As you turned to meet his gaze, your finger gently touched his temple. "Listen to your instincts, if they're urging you to explore, go for it. I'll be heartbroken without you, but your happiness comes first,".

–

"Shit!" You muttered, eyeing the clock with dismay.

You were late for your first day at the new job in L.A. "Great way to start off," You grumbled as you hurriedly threw on your clothes, skipping breakfast altogether.

Jumping into your car, you navigated the unfamiliar roads, feeling the pressure of not knowing the way to your workplace. You scolded yourself internally for not making sure the alarm would go off. "Turn right, now!”

As you waited for the green light at the intersection, you attempted to make the turn. Suddenly, another car collided with yours, causing you to lose control and crash into a tree, hitting your head in the process. Dazed, you glanced up to see a chain reaction of collisions caused by the initial impact.

Realizing your legs were trapped beneath the dashboard, you spotted your phone on the passenger seat. Straining to reach it, you managed to grab hold and dialed 9-1-1. "9-1-1, what's your emergency?”

"Yeah, I was just in a car accident and I can't move my legs, they are pinned," you explained to the 9-1-1 operator.

"Do you know your location?" the operator inquired.

Glancing over at the stoplight, you read the street sign. "Marks and Olive. There's a few other cars that were involved," you replied.

"Do you know what happened?" the operator asked.

"Some asshole ran a stop light," you grumbled.

"Besides your legs being pinned, are there any other visible injuries? What car are you in?”

You lowered the sun visor and noticed a gash on your forehead and the skin around your eye starting to bruise. "My head hit the steering wheel, I have a gash and I'll probably end up with a black eye, but that's all I can see. My car is a white Honda Fit," you informed the 9-1-1 operator.

"Alright, the paramedics are on their way. Please stay on the line until they arrive," the operator instructed.

After a few minutes, the sound of sirens from fire trucks and ambulances reached your ears. "I can hear them," you reported.

"Okay, you can hang up the phone now," the operator said.

"Thank you for staying on the line with me," you expressed your gratitude.

"You're welcome," the operator replied.

As you ended the call, you noticed a firefighter approaching, who looked oddly familiar, accompanied by another firefighter. "We're going to get you out of there as quickly as possible, ma'am," the firefighter with darker brown hair assured you.

The firefighter with darker brown hair knelt down beside you and assessed the situation. "The dashboard is pinning her legs," he reported.

His colleague with lighter colored hair chimed in, "What do you think we should do? Cut the door to the backseat and then cut the seat out."

"I was thinking the same. Go get the saw, Buck," the darker-haired firefighter instructed.

As the firefighter named Buck walked away, your heart skipped a beat. Could it really be Evan, your Buck? You watched him leave, but his jacket only read "Buck." Turning to the other firefighter still beside you, you asked, "Buck?"

"Yeah, I know it's a strange nickname, but it plays off his last name," the firefighter explained.

Your heart raced with anticipation. "Buckley? Evan Buckley?"

The firefighter with darker hair nodded. "Yeah. How did you know?"

"Got it!"

"Buck, she knows you," the other firefighter called out.

Buck walked over to you, and you could tell he didn't recognize you. "Y/n Y/I/n," you introduced yourself.

Buck's eyes widened in recognition. "(Nickname)?”

You gave a small nod in response.

"I'll cover you with this blanket, y/n, while we wait for the door to be fixed," Buck said as he approached you at the end of the ambulance.

Thankfully, aside from a gash that didn't require stitches and a black eye, you didn't have any other serious injuries. The impact had pinned you against the dashboard, but luckily it hadn't caused any broken bones.

"Miss Y/n Y/I/n," Buck greeted you.

"Mr. Evan Buckley," you replied.

You hopped off the back of the ambulance and embraced him, feeling his arms wrap around you as he lifted you slightly before setting you back down. His warmth was comforting, and you couldn't help but admit, "I missed you," with your face buried in his neck.

You could sense him chuckling as he replied, "I missed you too. How long have you been here?”

You stepped back and met his gaze. "Three days," you informed him.

"And you managed to get into an accident already? Same ol’ (Nickname)," Buck teased.

"No, it's always been you who's accident-prone," you retorted.

"True," he admitted with a grin.

"What brings you here? Last I heard, you were in Hawaii?" you inquired.

"Yeah, I moved out here about a year ago-" Buck began before being interrupted by his captain calling him over.

"Buck!" the captain called. "It's time to go."

Buck nodded and turned back to you. "Station 118. Come visit me," he said before heading off, leaving you standing there with a mix of emotions swirling inside you.

—-

The past two days have been a whirlwind for you, dealing with the aftermath of the wreck. From sorting out insurance matters to arranging a car rental and proving the accident to your job, which had granted you a week off to recover, you had been kept busy. Finally, today, you found the time to go see Buck.

Parking your car on the side of the road in case the fire trucks were called out, you took a deep breath and stepped out. Spotting the dark-haired man from the accident standing in the middle of the apparatus floor, you greeted him. "Hey."

He turned around and smiled. "Y/n, right?"

"Right," you confirmed.

"I'll go get Buck," he offered.

"Thank you," you replied gratefully.

Before long, you heard footsteps approaching. Turning around, you were met with Buck's embrace. "There you are."

"Yeah, sorry, I had to take care of some things," you explained.

"That's okay. How are you feeling?" Buck inquired.

"Sore, but grateful to not be seriously injured," you admitted.

"Hey, my shift is actually over in like ten minutes, so we can talk then," Buck suggested, offering you a chance to catch up.

After nodding in agreement, you returned to your car and settled in to wait. As you scrolled through your phone, you were startled by the sound of your car door opening. Looking up, you saw Buck sliding into the passenger seat.

"Hey," you greeted him.

"Hi. Start driving, and I'll tell you the directions," Buck instructed, prompting you to start the car and follow his lead.

–

"No! That was all your doing," you laughed, teasing Buck.

"How was it my fault?" he protested.

"Really? You spilled it on me!" you rolled your eyes, reminiscing about a high school party your parents had no clue about. Buck had accidentally spilled beer all over you, and even after showering and changing, the smell lingered.

As you continued talking for hours at his favorite restaurant, you realized how much you missed your best friend. Buck shared with you that after Hawaii, he became a firefighter, and he felt like it was what he was meant to do for the rest of his life. He also opened up about his ex-girlfriend who had cheated on him and constantly tried to make him jealous.

"So, what about you?" Buck asked, prompting you to throw a paper straw wrapper at him playfully. "What about me?"

"How's your love life going?" he inquired.

"Non-existent, and it has been for over a year now," you admitted.

"Sorry to hear that," Buck responded sympathetically.

You shook your head. "Nah, it's all good," you reassured him, though deep down, you knew the real reason behind your lack of interest in dating. You were still secretly in love with Buck, and no one else seemed to measure up. Besides, your demanding job kept you occupied.

"Wanna get out of here?" you suggested.

"Yeah, sure. I just gotta go to the restroom first," You replied.

"I'll meet you outside," Buck said, already looking forward to spending more time with your best friend.

After finishing in the restroom, you emerged to find Buck engaged in conversation with a girl who turned out to be his ex, as you recognized her from the pictures he had shown you. You discreetly listened in on their conversation, feeling a surge of anger as she bragged about her new boyfriend's treatment and wealth, clearly trying to provoke Buck and make him uncomfortable.

Unable to stand by, you walked over and casually wrapped your arm around his, looking up at him. "Ready to go, babe?"

Buck glanced down at your arm around his and smiled. "If you are, love."

"I am," you affirmed, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the nickname.

As you began to walk away, the girl stopped you. "You can't be his girlfriend?" she questioned, clearly taken aback by your presence.

Without even glancing back at her, you halted in your tracks and reached out for his shirt. Grasping Buck's shirt firmly, you tugged him down towards you and planted a deep kiss on his lips. It was everything you had ever dreamed of, the kiss you had longed for over the years. It ignited every fiber of your being, overwhelming your senses completely. As the initial shock wore off, Buck gently placed his hand on your face. The two of you continued to kiss for a few more blissful seconds before reluctantly pulling away. When you finally turned to look at his ex, you could see the unmistakable expression of jealousy written all over her face. With a sly smile, you challenged her, "Care to rethink that?”

She huffed and stormed off, leaving you with a satisfied smirk on your face. Turning back to Buck, you were met with another kiss, this time more intense as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. You reciprocated by wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, lost in the moment. When he finally pulled away, he apologized, confessing that he had been dreaming of that moment since freshman year.

"I have too," you admitted, meeting his gaze.

"Really?" Buck's eyes widened in surprise.

"Come on, Buck, it was pretty obvious I had a crush on you," you teased.

"In that case, would you like to go on a date with me?" he asked, a hopeful smile playing on his lips.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

It's Not Mine (Adrian Chase Drabble)

Fandom: DC, Peacemaker, Vigilante, Adrian Chase

Word Count: 702

TW: Bullet Wound, Passing Out, Blood

This latest battle had been more brutal than any of you had expected but at least now it was over. Your eyes scanned the field, pausing on each of the bodies scattered on the ground around you, relieved to not see any familiar faces. But as you expand your search, you couldn’t spot the black-and-blue suit you were looking for anywhere. Vigilante had been by your side for most of the fighting, so the fact you couldn’t find him now scared you. Your boyfriend had a tendency of getting a little over-zealous during fights like this, and the last time you had seen him, he was just pulling out his sword.

Stumbling slightly, you head back towards the road that headed back into town. And that’s when you finally spotted him across the field from you, sword still in his hand and dripping with blood.

“Vig!” You screamed as you took off running.

When his visor finally landed on you, he dropped his sword and hurried in your direction. Meeting about halfway, you threw yourself into his arms, overwhelmed with relief that he was okay. He grabbed your hips and drew you closer into him. You both just stood there for a moment, lost in each other’s embrace, relieved to be alive and well.

But when Adrian reached up to cup your face, you saw thick, dark blood dripping from his glove. You gasped as you grabbed his hand, your face awash with fear and concern.

“Adrian! Oh my god! Baby, where are you hurt?” Your hands began roaming his suit, desperately trying to find where he was bleeding from.

But he just shook his head in confusion. “Don’t look at me. It’s not mine.”

Together, you slowly lowered your gazes until they settled on your side, just above your hip. There, almost hidden by the dark colors of your suit, was a bullet hole gushing blood. You look back up at Adrian’s visor. “Oh…”

It was as if seeing it suddenly made it real, and you collapsed.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. You were supposed to be fine. And yet, the minute you both saw the bullet hole in your side, you collapsed. Adrian managed to catch you inches before you hit the ground, but you were out cold.

He brushed the hair off your face as he willed you awake, but of course, that didn’t work. Adrian knew he healed differently than other people and he often forgot how little damage they could actually sustain before being serious. And this was no exception. A single bullet wound to his side would barely slow him down, but with you….

Blood was still gushing from the wound as Adrian’s hand hovered over it. He wasn’t sure what to do, how to help. Help. That’s what you needed. More than he could give. So, he carefully gathered you up into his arms and started carrying you back to the rendezvous spot, hoping someone would be there to meet him.

As he walked, the only thing breaking up the silence was your ragged breathing. Adrian had always hated silence. So, even though he knew you couldn’t hear him, he began to talk to you. “Hey, babe. It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. I mean, not like today but soon. ‘Cause I’m going to get you help. Then we can go back out there and take down some more bad guys. Or girls, because I don’t discriminate. But, uh, I don’t want to do that by myself. I like having you by my side, so you need to get better. It used to just be me and Chris out here and I thought it was perfect. Then once you showed up…. I mean, Chris is great and my best friend but he’s kind of a jerk. But you, you’re different. I feel like you get me in ways no one else does. So, I need you to be alright. Okay?”

But you of course did not respond. Your side was still bleeding heavily, and your breathing was growing ever slower. As Adrian picked up his pace, he feared the even worse, more final silence that might shatter his world at any moment.

[drcalmreid]

the dugout - s.r.

pairing: spencer reid x female reader

summary: smut - post-baseball practice spencer fulfills a fantasy of y/n’s

content warning: NSFW 18+!! pure smut lol

word count: 3.2k

authors notes: so mmmm….chile anyway enjoy ;)

gif credit: @thegifs-queen​

YOUR POV

“Alright kid, you gotta get out of your head,” Morgan says, wiping a hand on the back of his sweatpants. He squats down in front of the pitcher’s mound and grabs the baseball Spencer just tossed back to him,

“Just swing hard and follow through. There’s no mathematical equations, just swing.”

“Okay fine,” Spencer huffs looking down at his converse. “But according to recent studies, most major league teams employ mathematicians in order to pinpoint crucial angles, velocities, distances, and overall mathematical equations that are needed to create the ideal outcome of a baseball game,” Spencer says squinting at Morgan even though his hat shields his eyes from the sun. He stands at home plate with the wooden bat between his legs and his hands resting on the barrel. Derek rolls his eyes at Spencer and gives him an of-course-you-know-that head shake and walks back to the top of the pitcher’s mound. He tosses the ball into the pitching machine and Spencer swings and misses, again.

“We really have to watch this?” Emily leans over to whisper in my ear, “It’s just too painful to watch.”

“I know,” I shrug, pursing my lips together before giving her an empathetic smile. “If you don’t want to stay you don’t have to, I’m sure they’ll be done soon...I can meet you at Garcia’s.”

“Really?” She says in the most excited tone she has had the entire time we’ve been here. “Thank you,” she sighs and reaches for her coat on the bleachers before climbing down them. “You look great out there boys, but Garcia is hounding me to help her set-up! I’ll meet you over there!” Emily smiles one last time and waves to Morgan and Reid before practically running to her car before any of us can stop her.

“See,” Spencer says, taking off his baseball cap and running his hand through his hair. “We’re losing our audience. That’s how bad I am.”

“You need some motivation, Kid.” Morgan says pounding the baseball into his mitt, “It could be those mathematical baseball facts you know, the idea of beating the local PD in this game...” his eyes shift to me in the stands and I perk my head up, “or (y/n)...whatever it is, use it.” His phone rings from his pocket and he reaches inside before picking up, “What’s up, baby girl? We’re almost done here, then--woah woah, slow down. I’ll be right there.”

Morgan hangs up his cell phone and shrugs at Spencer, “it’s your lucky day. Garcia is requesting I come help set up the party tonight for Hotch...which I thought Prentiss was supposed to be doing,” he turns to glare at me.

“I know nothing!” I yell from the stands. I rise from the bleachers and walk closer to the fence.

“Either way, I’m needed ‘urgently, like now’ by Garcia,” Morgan chuckles using air quotes around what I can assume is a panicked Garcia needing her Chocolate Thunder. “So, we can pick this up tomorrow?” Reid presses his lips together in a tight lipped, straight smile before nodding. Just like that, Morgan grabs his bats and glove and disappears into the parking lot, “I’ll see you two over there!”

I climb down from the stands and walk closer towards the dugout. Spencer grabs the spare bat Morgan gave him off the ground and uses it to tap the sand off of his converse. Just as I reach the doorway of the dugout, Spencer enters the other side near the field.

“Hey,” I grin at Spencer as I lean against the cool cement walls.

“Hi,” he smiles back and his eyes quite practically light up when he sees me. To be honest, I’m not sure if he’s more excited to see me or to just be done with Morgan’s baseball practice.

The clay colored dirt collects on the dugout floor, dust raising from it as Spencer steps forward. He sits on the metallic bench against the wall, the bench stretches the length of the dugout and reflects the sunlight from the setting sun. Something about the way Spencer looks sitting down in the dugout, with his hair pushed back in his cap, white button-up loosened around his collar since his tie has been tossed aside since the beginning of practice. His biceps flex slightly as he reaches for his briefcase next to him on the bench (grabbing the hand sanitizer inside the case that he insisted on bringing), his collared shirt rolled up to his elbows exposing his tanned skin....He looks so fucking good.      

“So, on a scale of 1-to-listening to me explaining the newest metabolic engineering studies, how bored were you watching me practice today?” Spencer jokes, leaning forward to brush the dirt off his pants.

“Mmm, I would have to say,” I humm and step forward away from the entrance, sitting down on the bench directly next to Spencer. “Waiting for you to come out of the coffee shop, but I forgot my book at home.”

“That bad, huh?” He laughs and I lean down pressing my head to his shoulder. I shake my head and place a kiss on the top of his shoulder. “Not that bad, anything with you is never bad,” I smile, looking up at him. Spencer turns to look at me, tilting his head to the side to make sure his visor is out of the way. He leans down to kiss me and I sit back, raising a hand to stop him.

“Oh (y/n), I’m sorry,” Spencer mumbles. He shifts uncomfortably on the bench, “I thought-”

“Spence,” I reach forward and flip his hat around, resting the visor on the back of his head. I keep my hands at the back of his head, fingers running through his loose, slightly sweaty curls. “Didn’t want you to knock me in the head with that...plus, I like seeing your pretty eyes.”

“Oh,” Spencer sighs softly and a blush creeps onto his cheeks. His eyes turned away from mine, and I know he’s consciously trying to reduce his red cheeks. No matter how long we’ve been together, Spencer still finds moments to be completely embarrassed or shy around me. He leans down, turning his head back to mine and capturing my lips with his. My hands still rest in his hair and I comb my fingers up through his curls gently. Spencer moans slightly and I lift my leg to straddle the backless-bench without his lips leaving mine.

“Spencer,” I smile while breaking the kiss for a moment, but Spencer moves his lips to my jawline. “Did I ever tell you about my one, umm,” I stumble over my words, now I’m the one who’s nervous… “fantasy?”

“Fantasy?” Spencer grins against my skin and I turn my face away, but he raises a finger pulling my face back to his, “tell me.”

“So, I’ve always had this fantasy of, um, y’know…” I raise my eyebrows, eyes glancing around the dimly lit room. “In a dugout…” My cheeks burn with an even more intense blush than before.

“You want to have sex... in a dugout?” Spencer asks, his fingers still rest on my jaw, his eyes staring into mine intently.

“It’s stupid, never mind.” I say, completely embarrassed and attempt to stand from the bench. Spencer’s strong hand grips my waist and pulls me back down towards him, “Spence, really it’s fine, I- lets just go, we have to get to Garcia-”

His lips crash into mine and I know my resistance is useless.

“Spencer, seriously,” I say completely breathless. His lips work down my jawline as I giggle, “it was a stupid fantasy. Plus it’s dirty in here and I’m—you don’t want to—”

“Shh,” Spencer coos, pulling his face away from my neck. “I’m ready to fulfill your fantasy, as long as you want me to.” He looks up at me, his eyes scan over my face to make sure I’m still comfortable. I practically become putty in his hands. He brushes my fallen hair out of my face and over my shoulder. His smooth fingertips running up and down my arms.

“Fuck,” I mumble, “yeah, I really want you to.”

“Thank God, because…” Spencer trails off and looks down between us. His dress pants have become tight at his waist as he squirms under the tension.

“Oh my sweet boy,” I whisper and kiss his jawline. “Is that from me?” I ask while hovering my lips over his skin and he nods slowly while swallowing hard. Carefully I slide forward onto Spencer’s lap, earning a moan from him in a process, “fuck”. My hands trail up his torso to meet the back of his neck, pulling gently at his curls as my lips continue to leave sloppy kisses on his neck and jaw.

“Baby,” Spencer moans. “C’mere.” His hands wrap around my hips, grinding them down against his own as Spencer groans at the sensation. I move my face away from him to look directly in his eyes. Spencer's head rests against the wall of the dugout, his eyes hooded, but lustful. I bring my lips back down to his neck, hips gently moving against his. My thighs rest on both sides of his, my skirt riding up against my skin. His hands trail up the edge of my skirt, grabbing my thighs gently.

“(y/n)? Wait,” Spencer says breathless.

“Yes, Spence?” I ask, pulling away from him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. I look at him and blink slowly, “you okay? We don’t have to-”

“No, no,” Spencer rushes out. “I just wanted to look at you.”

My heart flutters immediately as I smile at him. I bring my hands up from his chest, tangling them in his hair at the bottom of his baseball cap.  

—

SPENCERS POV

(Y/n)’s eyes stare into mine as we sit tangled on the cool metal bench. Her knees are bent at my sides, our thighs rubbing together every time either one of us moves. I trail my hands up from her skirt and run them through the ends of her hair, slowly making my way up to her scalp. She leans into my touch almost instinctively as her eyes slowly close. I bring her even closer to me to catch her lips with mine.

“Spencer,” she moans against my mouth, her hips rocking back and forth. Fuck. If I could listen to her moan my name all day I would. “I need you.” She pants.

“Where do you need me?” I ask, pulling away with a grin.

“C’mon,” she giggles. “You’re the one with three PhDs...you should know.”

“It’s not that kind of—” before I even get the words out her lips crash into mine. Lustful and hungry for more. My back stretches against the walls still, (y/n) grinding down against our colliding bodies on the bench. My hands move down from her hair, tugging slightly before I completely let go. I trace her sides with my fingers before slipping under her skirt. My thumb presses between her thighs, running along the thin fabric of her underwear. She moans against my mouth, pulling away and throwing her head back, “Spencer, I need you.”

“So impatient today,” I say, raising my eyebrows at her. She rolls her eyes in response, but I hook my fingers underneath her thong and move my fingers along her exposed skin. “What do you need me to do, baby?”

“Spencer,” she moans. “You already know-”

I shake my head at her, moving my hands back from her core, “not the answer I’m looking for.”

“Spence,” she whimpers, looking up at me with the most needy eyes possible. I move my hands onto the sides of the bench, too stubborn to give into her...even though I want to so badly. I tilt my head to the side, waiting on her every word—more specifically waiting for the words…

She brings her lips down to my ear, “I need you to fuck me, Dr. Reid.”

“Your wish is my command.” I smile at her and immediately run my hands back under her skirt. She shifts gently, her hands coming down to my belt. We both fiddle with each other’s bottoms for a moment, lips connected, moving together. (Y/n) unbuckles my belt while I simultaneously loop my fingers under her panties pulling them down her thighs. I swiftly move my hands from between her thighs to under them lifting her up off my lap and onto the bench. She whines sadly as our kiss breaks apart, “hold on, baby.” I tell her while pushing a stray hair away from her cheeks. She puffs her lip out but stays put, I quickly pull my pants down to gather around my ankles, I reach for my boxer waistband but she stops me. Her eyes scan over me before she stands from the bench, thong falling slowly down her legs to her feet. She steps out of it and I catch the underwear before it even reaches the ground.

“Saving those for later?” She asks, cocking her head to the side. I nod eagerly before she straddles my bare legs. Her cool fingertips run along my waist band before pulling them down slowly. I buck my hips up just enough for her to move them down even further. Her hands wrap around my cock slowly, pumping it a few times as I close my eyes mumbling her name over and over. She rises on her knees as she lines herself up with me, both of us hungry for the other. Slowly, (y/n) lowers herself down onto my cock, both of us moaning at the connection. She throws her head back in pleasure and I reach up, hands wrapping around her back pulling her closer to me. I push my lips to hers as she begins to grind herself down into me.

“Fuck-”, I mumble against her mouth. “You’re so tight, baby.”

“You feel so good Spence,” she responds as she moves her mouth down to my neck. I rest my head against the cool wall as she continues to ride me effortlessly. She gains her rhythm quickly, both of us chasing our highs.

“(Y/n),” I say moving my hands up to her face. “Wait.”

“You okay?” She asks, her hips stopping immediately.

“What else was in your fantasy? What else do you want me to do?” I ask, the words fumbling out of my mouth, in between gasps.

“Spencer,” she almost laughs. “This is more than enough. Stop using your big brain,” she leans forward and presses a gentle, sweet kiss to my lips. I rest my hands on her back, lowering them under her legs, lifting her up off of me. She raises her eyebrows at me confused, “I’m not coordinated enough to lift us both.” I respond and (y/n) audibly laughs. I stand from the bench and pull her closer to me. She stands on her toes to reach my mouth and once she does I scoop my arms under her thighs as she jumps into my arms. The kiss gets heated again as I spin us around quickly, but carefully (so I don’t trip over myself and my pants around my ankles) and rest her back against the cool cement walls. The cold bricks chill her instantly as I feel goosebumps rise on her skin. I lower her down onto my cock again and (y/n) gasps at the re-entry. Her legs wrap around my back pulling me closer and balancing herself around my waist. She pulls away from our kiss and looks directly at me, “you can move i'm okay.” I nod quickly and pulse my hips up into her quickly, repeating the action over and over until a rhythm sets in for both of us. (Y/n)’s hands push off my baseball cap, letting the hat hit the floor, as she tangles her finger in my loose curls. I move my mouth from hers and trail down the side of her neck, sucking gently at the connection between her jaw and neck. My hips continue to move in and out of her at a steady pace, our moans echoing throughout the empty dugout. Together, we reach our highs…(y/n) repeating my name over and over, as I say hers back. “I’m close, Spence-” she moans into my ear and I feel her tighten around me. I kiss her hard, pulling her bottom lip between my teeth gently.

“Come on, baby,” I say against her lips. “Let go.”

“Oh fuck, Spencer—fuck, fuck,” she mutters against my neck as she climaxes. Her thighs clench around my waist, her hands clawing down my back over my shirt. “Spencer, you’re so good to me. Cum for me, Dr. Reid.”

Her words bounce off the cement walls and hit me like a ton of bricks. With one more thrust, I release into her my legs trembling. (Y/n) slowly moves her legs down from my waist, as I lower her to the ground. My arms still linger around her back, as I pull out one final time. She stands on her unstable legs, leaning against the wall of the dugout, my hands resting on the wall aside her face. My head hangs in her face, curls falling down in front of my eyes as I try to steady my breathing.

“I’m impressed,” (y/n) comments, pushing my head up to meet her eyeline. “You didn’t trip over yourself and you held me up? The entire time?” She chuckles and a smile pulls at my lips. “My boyfriend is so strong and,”  she reaches down to the floor picking up my baseball cap, placing it on my head, flicking the visor. “Athletic.”

“I’m coordinated when I need to be, especially for you,” I smile at her. “But athletic, not so much.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” she says, squatting down pulling up my boxers and pants. My hands still rest on the wall, head bowed, breath hitching as she works to redress me. She latches the belt around my waist and peers up at me, “I can confidently say, fantasy fulfilled.”

“Yeah?” I ask as she pulls my hands down from the wall, placing them on her hips.

“Yes, Spencer,” she stands on her toes and kisses my forehead. “Thank you.”

—

I raise my hand to Garcia’s front door, knocking twice before the door swings open.

“Spencer! (Y/n)!” Emily smiles and pulls us into a group hug. “Drinks are over there, still waiting on Hotch and JJ!”

“Practice went well?” Garcia asks while grabbing a chip from the bowl.

“Yeah, Spence is definitely improving.” (Y/n) smiles, leaning in against my arm.

“Come,” Emily reaches for (y/n)’s hands. “Let me make you a drink!” (Y/n) laughs and follows Prentiss across the room into the kitchen. Her, Emily, and Penelope laugh while mixing a drink by the counter. I look on from the other side of the room and run my hands through my hair, trying my best to fix it.

“So,” Morgan clasps a hand on my shoulder. “You found your motivation, huh, Kid?”

“Yeah, guess you could say that,” I say, giving him a coy smile.  

— 

so, the weather??? HAHA anyways friends I hope you enjoyed my first Spencer NSFW/18+ writing....had to get it out of my system ;) 

leave requests here! // masterlist

stay safe and wear a mask! -m

[yostresswritinggirl]

Valentine's Collab - Day Six!

"Don't be stubborn! Try it!"

Early Valentine's gift as part of this great collaboration event together with seven other lovely authors, for Feb 13! Masterlist here, read them all, they're greaaaat~

Here's more sauce for motorcycle and tattoo artist Xiao brrttt, header by @Cut3knife on twitter.

Customers are always right! A simple and straightforward philosophy in the world of commerce exercised and spoken like a mantra for many years.

Xiao takes this to heart in his business. He had never refused a customer on their choices when it comes to the design they pick. Even if it's a bad tattoo, even if they were high,

even if they were drunk off their assess, too.

He was silent and obedient if he was silently judging the customer, hardcore, in his head.

So, what is it about now that made him hesitate.

"Don't be stubborn! Try it!"

Your flushed face from one too many drinks swayed side to side as you giggled, his head lifting from the image to stare- squint at your intoxicated state.

Xiao is known as an Ink Master for his mad talent in generating designs AND copying requests to the dot. You are one of his frequent and loyal customer, maybe the most loyal one of all, who always asks for the most aesthetically pleasing designs you customize or combine from different designs into a bigger masterpiece.

That's the main reason he's very hesitant on your request, the thought making him look at the digital design displayed on your phone and cringe again at the image.

This is a dare, this is definitely a horrible drunk dare.

"You know this is going to be permanent, you can never erase this from your skin, (Y/N)." His repeated argument was made in a vain attempt as he watched you climb in his workbench, the artist's head snapping to the side when you suddenly started undressing your top without provocation.

"Come on, come on, it would be good! I trust you!" Your drunken stupor mumbles nonchalantly as you ever so slowly pass out from your hangover.

Well now he really can't do anything about it. Xiao sighs as he snaps on his surgical gloves, bashfully running his hand over your entire back in pure adoration before settling on your lower back, where he starts sketching the ordered design— with a few changes here and there as he knows you've always liked about his service.

When he thought he was finished, his hand moves again to redo a finer detail, scratching off the center portion into a totally different design. This would be— his boldest move yet, but it's going to be something you'd (hopefully) not berate him about. And all things were done.

As the tool starts in his hand, he realized that this body part brings immense pain you never had before in your trips. "Sorry," he mumbles as the needle punches at your skin.

You woke up with a scream.

"Remember you can remove the gauze after five hours, nothing more, nothing less. Be very careful on irritations, especially since it's on your back," the ever so vigilant inker expertly recites the precautions without missing a beat as he locks the shop for the night. You were his last appointment for the day and the design finished just in time for closing.

You nod behind with a whine and groan as you fought the urge to scratch at the pain, the numbness lessening the full agony by half at this point.

You're most likely sober now, with light headedness here and there, with the urge to chug a whole liter of water as well as puke your guts out into the nearest bush.

Drunk you must be so proud of themselves.

"Sorry for whatever trouble I might have caused."

"I'm saying sorry in advance for whatever comes out on your back in a month or two."

You grumbled in response at his quip. The angle already makes it hard to make out for your vision, and the scabbing as well as peeling would also obscure the end result of whatever abomination you and him done to yourself. And judging by Xiao's interactions, it's not looking pretty good on your end.

Him revving up his motorcycle snaps you out of your self-deprication and you realized just how late it already was. You never reached after hours in this shop, "Thanks again, Xiao, I'm sure you did your best to make damage control for whatever horror I asked-"

"Are you gonna make me wait more or will you finally get on?"

With a gasp, your head turns to the sigh of the motorcyclist holding out a black helmet with neon accents tailored to your favorite colors. Whatever thoughts you had were erased as you rushed over to his side, bouncing on your tiptoes as you held out your hand for your designated helmet he keeps around whenever you needed a lift.

Xiao flips down his tinted visor to hide the unstoppable smile that creeped up to his lips at the sight of the adorable you. And to indulge, he took the long road.

It wasn't until 90 days later when you barged into his shop while Xiao was in the middle of inking someone, screaming incoherently with a flushed red face, with your hands lifting up to show the tattoo on your back to him.

It still had a few skin waiting to peel off naturally but the vibrant color of his work had started manifesting, the design in entirety easily recognizable in its condition:

A crying pepehands emoji tattoo with his words Xiao written in striking cursive in neon teal and black.

If you wanted him to ink over the pepehands for a more pleasing design, he'd be glad to do so for free.

But the mark of his name stays there. Permanently.

Eheh, early Valentine's gift, dears. I switched. between three damn prompts before finally settling on this.

Special mentions:

@yellowflowre @kookieyachi @anormalguyreader @dandelion-dreams @lehra @starlynxx @reicandies @heiayen @xiaophilia @hanniejji

[forever-rogue]

Crimelord Boba Fett proposing to female reader and promises to protect her with his life. :)

Did someone say King of the Underworld Boba Fett? Don’t mind if we do. Goodbye Bib Fortuna, long live the King.

Boba Fett x Fem!Reader; warnings: egregious use of little one

Part 2

Star Wars Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

The air is acrid and thick, feeling like it was suffocating you rather than helping to you live. Raising a hand to your face, you looked around the desolate Dune Sea, wondering why on earth you were being summoned to Maker forsaken Tatooine. And who the kriff was summoning you?

All you knew was that you had been summoned from your home on Corsucant - rather forcefully, and dragged back to this hell hole. Under any other circumstances you would have fought back or questioned what was actually going on, but something about the small but imposing woman that dragged you with her caused you to keep your mouth shut. She hadn’t given you so much as a name - hers or your mysterious summoner, and you hadn’t asked.

She’d watched you closely on the hours long ride to Tatooine, seeming to study and observe you with curiosity. At one point you had wanted to snap back at her but the weapons holstered to her side and stowed around the ship made you bite your tongue and bide your time. The woman didn’t say a single word; neither did you.

If you were being taken to your death, then that was that. You’d made that much up in your mind as soon as you’d stepped foot onto the ship. Harsh and cruel as it was too say, there wasn’t much you would be losing, nor would many people miss you. It was a quiet life you led these days, keeping to yourself and your humble abode in a small, but safe corner of Coruscant.

You’d been there, waiting, hoping, wishing ever since - no.

No, no, no. You weren’t going to let your mind back to that dark, haunted place. It was something that still managed to seep into the front of your mind, no matter how many years you tried to suppress them. It was when a man with dark hair would come into your little shop and you’d only catch a glimpse. When you heard deep, rough laughter that was all consuming. When you’d see a hint of green armor. When you’d hear a voice even remotely similar to his...

Boba Fett might have died many years ago, but he had never left your heart. He was still in everything you did, so many little things reminding you of what was and what could have been.

You hadn’t been back to this living hell since the day he’d died, lost to the sarlacc and left only to become memories that would fade away over generations. You’d wanted to stay there, to wait and see if somehow he would come back to you, but you couldn’t.

You’d left the next day and never looked back. You hated yourself for it, but you also...your heart had been broken into hundreds of millions of tiny shards of transparisteel. Ever since, you’d hoped that maybe one you’d come across your lover.

But the day never came. And while you went along with life, you still held onto the slight hope that maybe one day...maybe, maybe, maybe.

A soft sigh escaped your parched lips as you felt immediately all consumed by the sand, like it was becoming a part of you or you were destined to become a part of it. Either way, it was enough to frustrate you as you shielded your eyes from the harsh heat and blazing light of the twin suns.

“Keep up,” it was the first time she had spoken to you since she’d first called your name and instructed you to come with her. She was commanding for a figure so slight, but you had a feeling she was much deadlier than she looked - and she was already a sight. Biting back a groan you picked up the pace and trailed after her, confusion clouding your features as you began to realize where you were headed.

This was Jabba’s Palace...well no - Bib Fortuna’s. Just like Boba, Jabba, the disgusting, foul, loathsome leader of the galaxy’s biggest syndicate had been dead for some time.

What the kriff would Bib Fortuna want with you?

You’d cut off any ties you’d had with any of them long ago, before Boba was even dead. There was no way you could ever provide anything useful to him...

Autopilot had completely taken over and you were barely aware of the fact that you’d reached the palace and were headed towards its inner sanctum. Your stomach lurched as you walked through the walls you hoped would forever be a memory as you realized just how clearly you remember it all. Sure, the place had seen better days, wearing down from the harsh sandy winds and the hands of time, but it was ever the same.

Except this time - few people were milling about, no workers to be seen and it felt surprisingly...tame. Not something you thought would ever be possible for his place. Something had to have happened... something was off-

“Down,” the woman pointed at the stone staircase, her hand on the small of your back as she gently nudged you towards the top step. You were half surprised that she didn’t just completely shove you down to the bottom, but the energy you were getting from her wasn’t mean or negative...just curious.

“W-what?” you managed to stammer, your throat dry and scratchy the heat and lack of water. She quirked a dark brow and pointed at the stairs again.

“Down,” she repeated, “it’s best not to keep him waiting.”

Kriff. You were going to die at the hands of Fortuna. He was a weak man, bolstered by those he keep around him, ego inflated beyond measure. On his own he was a pathetic little thing, but when surrounded by his goons, he was cruel and merciless at worst.

Accepting your fate, you started your slow descend down the stairs, your heartbeat screaming in your ears with each foot fall. Your chest was thumping so wildly you were sure that it would burst through your chest at any point.

But nothing met your ears, there were no sounds, no talking, no music, nothing. It was almost deafeningly silent.

When your feet hit the soft sand floor, you did a quick survey of the almost empty room. A few torches lined the wall, but that was about all. The throne was in the center of the room as it always was and -

Maker. The Throne.

As you looked at it, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked upon the singular figure in the room besides yourself.

The man was in armor from head to toe. Green armor. With red accents. You knew those colors, those colors you once considered your own, those were his colors.

But no - it couldn’t have been. No, no, no, this was an impostor, this was -

“Hello little one,” that voice. You knew it more intimately than anything else, you know that voice inside and out. That voice that had laughed at you a million times, that voice that been in your ear during the heat of passion, the one that teased you, the one that scolded you when you did something dangerous. That voice.

It was his. Boba’s.

“No,” you shook your head as you refused to move closer to the man that was surely a pretender - a great one, but still not your Boba, “y-y-you aren’t...no.”

He remained silent for a long moment, the dark T of his visor trained on your as he refused to look away. You stared right back, as if you were seeing a ghost - in some ways you were.

Slowly, he rose to his full height, stepping down from his throne, imposing as ever as he slowly walked over to you. You stilled in your actions, wondering if you should run away or fight or something. Instead you watched as he came closer and closer and closer - right until he stopped dead in front of you.

“You’re just as pretty as then,” his voice was soft as he reached a gloved hand up touch your cheek. He hesitated before making contact with your skin, stripping the worn leather gloves off and tossing them mindlessly onto the sandy floor. He watched you closely before finally touching your cheek to his see if you would stop him or flinch out of his touch.

But you didn’t; despite believing he was gone all of these years, a small bit of you still had hope.

“Boba?” it was a weak, pathetic little whimper as you keened into his touch. He stalled for just a moment, his heart almost stopping at the sound of his name from your lips. It was even sweeter than he remembered, “is it really you?”

“I told you I’d never leave you, little one,” he rasped as you worked to blink back tears that had started to well up in your eyes. You looked at him with wide doe eyes as he made a small sound in the back of his throat. As a single tear pearled up and ran down your cheek, he tenderly wiped it away, “it just took me a little longer than planned to get back to you.”

And then you laughed; despite the situation and the overwhelming onslaught of emotions, you just laughed. Before you knew it, he was laughing as well, a warm, rich sound that you remembered like it had been yesterday.

“Boba,” you couldn’t believe it. This whole time, all these years, your hope wasn’t wasted after all, “you’re alive. You’re here - I’m here. I-I...I dreamed of this day so many times.”

“As have I,” he promised, “I’m just...I’m afraid that I might be a little different than you last remembered - the sarlacc was not a kind friend to me.”

“I don’t care,” you promised him, “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. You’re alive and that’s all...I...please, let me look at your face. I need to see you, Boba.”

He gave a curt nod before dropping his hand from your cheek and exhaling deeply. Slowly, he put his hands on either of the helmet - newly painted, you noted - and tugged it up and off. You swallowed nervously, anxious to see the eyes of your lover once again.

Boba let the helmet fall to the ground, the thud dulled by the pillowy sand, nervous for you to say something, anything. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, but this? This was nothing; scarred and more weathered than when he had been a younger man, he was still the same as always. Boba - your Boba.

“At least one of us is - “

Before he could say anything in the negative, your put your hands on either side of his face before crashing your lips onto his. He was taken aback for a moment at your sudden action, but it didn’t take more than a beat for him to wrap his arms around you and hold you tightly against his chest. It was like no time had passed at all, and you still knew each other just as you always had.

Only when you needed a breath of air did you pull apart, staring back into his soft brown eyes.

“Boba,” it was soft - reverent - and worked to thaw the icy harshness that had settled over his heart, “I love you. I’ve always loved you so much. I never stopped. I always hoped that somehow you would make your way back to me.”

“Always, my little one,” he promised with a gentle kiss to your forehead, “I will always protect you. No harm shall ever come to you so long as I live and breathe.”

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” you wrapped your arms his neck and held him, just held him, as the two of your synced your breathing and become reacquainted with each other’s bodies.

“Will you stay?” he asked quietly as you pulled back and nodded. For Boba, you would have done anything and gone anywhere in the galaxy, “w-with me?”

“Yes,” you promised him softly as you traced over his features delicately with the tip of your finger, “always. There’s nothing that would make me happier.”

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered as you nodded, “I promise we’ll never be apart again.”

“I’ll hold you to that Boba Fett,” you sighed contentedly, “I love you, Boba.”

“I love you too, little one,” he kissed the top of your head, “come on, we have much to talk about.”

“And now have all the time in the galaxy.”

[auty-ren]

The Offer: Chapter 8

Distractions

Pairings: The Mandalorian x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader, ClanLeader!Din x Reader.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Smut (oral (m), exhibitionism, rough sex, penetrative sex, public (outdoor) sex, doggy style, breeding kink, dirty talk). Descriptions of canonical violence. Implied injury. Talk of children/pregnancy. Fluff. Talk of death/’meaning of life.’ Honeymoon shenanigans. Two big idiots being in love. A little surprise for all the Mira stans out there.

A/n: I hope y’all are ready for some more world-building! We get to see a bit into Din’s past in this chapter, and shed some light on some possible ulterior motives. Second a/n at the bottom! Hope y’all enjoy💗.

Summary: Din and you finally didn't the time to slow down for a bit and you find out quickly that you weren't the only ones who had something planned.

The Offer Masterlist | My Masterlist

The stone beneath your fingertips was rough, pewter-colored grains gathering at the edge of the brick you sat on until you flicked them off with your finger. You squinted and watched the few larger pieces you could see as they fell to the ground, collecting just a few inches from your feet. A chunkier, darker colored boot came into your line of sight and you followed the path up his legs until you were met with the matte blue of Paz’s visor. You squinted through a smile as he tilted his head, blocking the sun from your face and gesturing to your boot.

“Do you like them?”

The leather squeaked as you flexed your toes in your boot, your foot turning to the side as you lift your leg a little to show it off. You nodded, a sheepish grin plastering across your face knocked your heels together.

Paz didn't have to ask where you had gotten them; they were brand new, a practically perfect fit, and made specifically for you.

“....at your husband's request.”

You shouldn't have expected less from Din, especially from the way he had reacted when the sole of your original shoe finally gave out. He had made such a big deal out of it; even after you told him it was fine, tossing them to the side and continuing with a simple pair of slip-ons you had. Din wasn't so quick to dismiss it, he picked up the boot in question and watched as the split in the arch grew wider and puckered when he squeezed it in his hand.

It was a surprise to find the new pair sitting on the table this morning, along with a note handwritten by Din. 

“These have been made for you at your husband's request. Please, take very good care of them. -Din.”

You could practically hear the playful attitude in his voice and picture the laugh he probably had as he wrote out the words. 

The written ink was smeared, the corners of the spare paper fraying, and some of the letters were hard to make out; but you loved all of it, every flaw and every second of care that Din had poured into such a simple thing. You had smoothed out any creases that had been left in the paper, being careful to not spread any of the ink further, and placed the note inside one of the books in the chest that sat at the end of your shared bed, another one of Din's gifts. It felt silly sometimes to hold on to such trivial things; but when you read the note again, one last time before putting it in the chest for safe-keeping, it didn't feel silly at all. It felt warm and airy and it tickled your cheeks with a feeling you had only ever had around Din.

“You don’t have to wait with me you know?” you peered up at Paz and tilted your head to mirror his. “I’m perfectly capable of finding him without you.”

“I know that Vod’ika,” Paz crossed his arms and leaned against the same wall you sat on. “I figured you would like the company.”

“Always,” you bumped your shoulder against his playfully, looking to the entry of the great hall just a few feet from where you sat.

It was quiet around the great hall, most people being respectful of the council and leaving an empty and silent place for them to work in. You stood from your seat, walking just a few steps in front of you until you were met with the adjacent wall, leaning forward and craning your neck to look at the sky.

“Did he say why he sent for me?” you questioned, though it wasn't bothersome on your end, it did make you wonder what was so important for Din to send someone for you instead of just looking for you himself.

“He only asked me to bring you to him, once the council had finished,” Paz gestured to the door. “They should be done at any moment.”

It wasn't a few minutes later that you found yourself walking the halls just a few steps behind Paz, Mandalorians passed the two of you; your path seemingly going in the wrong direction from the way they flowed down the hall. You nodded to the people who noticed you, most of them giving a simple acknowledgment of your presence; the few without helmets offering a smile.

Some stray voices carried through the halls, echoing off the stone and mostly indistinguishable by the time they found you. You followed Paz turning a corner where the voices grew louder as you stepped through the threshold of a doorway.

There was a long table that stretched across nearly every inch of the room, a few groups of people still lingering as they slowly filed out of the room. Din stood at the head of the table, speaking to an older Mandalorian who carried his helmet under his arm, his hair was greyed and worry-lines set deep into his features. Their conversation hushed as you and Paz neared, Din's helmet turning to follow the direction his counterpart had looked. He said your name softly, turning to face you better.

“As requested,” Paz joked as he stepped towards the other two men. “Took me far too long to find her, you should keep a better track of her, Djarin.”

You rolled your eyes at the laugh they shared, grinning as you watched the two of them shake hands and joke with one another.

“Cyar'ika,” Din turned to you and held his hand out to you. You took it and went to stand at his side, leaning towards him as your fingers intertwined. He gestured to the unnamed Mandalorian, repeating your name to him and introducing the two of you.

“This is Medrit, a member of our council and my mentor from when I was a youngling.”

You had seen Medrit around in the village before, mostly when you had sat at dinner with Mira; but you had yet to speak with him. His demeanor told that he was someone of importance, and the decorations that sat on his chest were a testament to that as well.

You smiled at him, nodding as he repeated your name and offered you his hand to shake.

“Din Djarin has told me much about you,” Medirt spoke, smiling fondly as he patted Din on the shoulder. “I'm sorry I missed your presentation and have failed to meet you before this.”

“Medrit and I have been busy.” Din sounded almost shy, something that sounded so foreign to you. Medrit seemed to agree, exchanging a look with Din that did not go unnoticed.

“But I hope to know you better, very soon.” 

He reminded you so much of Din, in the way he spoke and carried himself. You wondered if we're seeing a glimpse of Din's future, the thought of his hair greying at his temples bringing a smile to your face.

“I would like that very much.” 

-

Medrit and Paz said their goodbyes not too long after, following the last few people who remained out of the room. Din and you were left alone, save for the guards who were paired at the doors. Before you could think of asking, Din dismissed them; the two of them shuffling out of the room at his command and pulling the heavy wooden doors closed with a thud.

“You never told me you had a throne.” You teased him, pointing to the chair that was behind him. It was noticeably larger than the others at the table; made of the same wood, deep, rich in color with designs and phrases etched into the arch that served as the backrest. The chair wasn't much different than the rest, but you noticed it nonetheless, grinning at him as he shook his head.

 “It's not a throne, Cyar'ika.” You could hear the grin on his voice, his helmet pressing gently against your forehead as he squeezed your hand.

“You look beautiful.”

The leather of his gloves was warm against your face, following along your jaw until he pushed them into your hair.

“Your hair?” He questioned, his fingers pulling away once he noticed resistance.

“The children,” You smiled at the memories, shrugging a little when Din chuckled. “They wanted to practice.”

Some days it felt like there wasn't much you could do to contribute to the Clan. As much as you hated following Mira around as if you were lost, especially since you were married to their Alor; she never minded the company or the help for that matter.

You sat with her for lunch just outside the gated areas that served as the gardens, sitting on empty crates and sharing some of the food you had spent the morning picking. It’s where you met Korri, a sweet girl about your age with kind eyes and a quick tongue that kept even Mira’s smart mouth at bay. You noticed how Mira’s eyes focused on her when she spoke and the way their hands brushed against each other anytime they stood near each other. You didn’t mean to tease Mira badly but, you couldn’t resist seeing the meek expression that crossed her face when you questioned her about it. The two of you were alone and gossiping like schoolgirls over bushels of food; sorting the good from the bad once most of it had been harvested. Korri had joined you, fitting right into your conversation once the awkward tension had dissipated.

As you ate together, you watched as children ran around, playing games of their imagination, their laughter carrying through the gardens. You had learned a few of their names, becoming familiar with them as the times you helped Mira grew in number. Sometimes during your breaks they would come and sit with you, asking questions with an innocence that only seemed understandable because of their age. Most of them understand what your marriage to Din meant, and a few of the older ones had even made a habit of calling you their Alor; a title you knew they used with no real bearing but was a little joke between you and them.

And of course, when one of them came up to you and begged you to let them practice on your hair, you had no resolve to tell them no.

They were careful, as careful as someone so young could be; twisting sections of your hair into different patterns until they found one they liked. Eventually pulling most of it back from your face and securing it with a tie. They insisted on picking some of the small clusters of wildflowers that grew along the fences of the garden and putting them in the ties of your hair. You sat and let them work for as long as they liked, thanking them and making over their handy work as they giggled at your praise.

The children were all very sweet, and some days you looked forward to them following you while you worked, enjoying their company no matter how tedious it could be.

“You look beautiful.” He repeated the sentiment from earlier, his voice just barely above a whisper.

You pressed yourself up against him, your hands resting on his chest while his arms fell to hold onto your hips. You tilted your head, batting your eyes as you looked up at him with a pout.

“Kiss me.”

He groaned a little, squeezing his arms tighter around you.

“Not in here, Cyar'ika.” he sighed, his breath hitching a little when you leaned to press a kiss on the spot where his chest and neck met. “I can't.”

You nuzzled your nose in his skin, dragging your lips up and down and leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. His fingers dug into your flesh, his hands flexing sharply as your nails running gently down his chest, stopping at the signet that cast his belt.

“Sit down, then.”

You pushed his shoulders, watching as he followed your direction and sat in his seat; his thighs spreading naturally as you kneeled in-between them.

When you finally put your mouth on him, he had nearly shot straight out of his chair from how hard his hips bucked. He was wound tight, his cock hard and throbbing under your touch from you teasing him; running your nails over his skin, and mouthing kisses onto his tummy, just barely ghosting over his groin.

He moaned your name, the sound practically melodic even through the metallic filter of his helmet, as you locked eyes with him. You guessed about where they'd be under there, imagining the vivid, dark color of his irises as you had seen them just this morning.

“You look so beautiful, Cyar'ika.” He groaned when he hit the back of your throat, choking out a curse as you slowly pull your mouth back up the length of his cock. “Taking my cock like this.”

You pulled off him with a wet pop, giving a few sweet kisses to the tip before wrapping your lips around him again.

“I don't deserve you, sweet girl.”

-

“We'll make it on foot, but it'll take a little while to get there.”

“You still haven't told me where we are going.” You released the strap of your bag to grab Din's hand your finger intertwining and your paces synchronizing as if from memory.

You had been walking on this trail for a while, it was one you had never been on before, but Din seemed to know where he was going. So you followed him, watching over your shoulder as the village slowly disappeared into the treeline behind you.

“That is the point of a surprise, Cyar'ika.”

A surprise.

Although it had been almost three months since you had married him, Din still surprised you. Sometimes in the form of his words, his actions, and sometimes with gifts; all things you told him weren’t necessary but he insisted on giving to you, his way of making sure you were taken care of. Of all the things Din could be, he was protective and caring in ways you had never realized could be so intimate with another person.

You knew he would kill for you, and you were sure he had threatened that before.

You had never brought it up, but you knew Din had threatened Kron the night of your presentation. You could count on one hand the number of times you had seen him since, a stark contrast to how he seemed to loom over you in the months prior. While you knew Kron deserved every word that Din had spoken to him, part of you couldn’t help but wonder about it. You were happy to put the experience behind you but part of you worried that it was about something that laid below the surface. You had never even known why Kron had even shown interest in speaking with you in the first place.

“That man, Kron,” you spoke before you had even decided if it was best to bring this up. “Why do you think he hates me?”

He didn’t say anything at first, taking a moment as if he needed to collect his thoughts, the gears turning under the shin of his helmet as he figured out what to say.

“I don't think he hates you, Cyar'ika.”

You scoffed, earning your hand a squeeze as he turned his head to look at you.

“Well, I would've believed otherwise.”

He stopped fully, your hands still connecting the two of you when you stopped just a second after he did, turning to face him. He sighed, breath coming from deep within his chest and causing his shoulders to raise with the force of it.

“He's angry with me,” he paused, still gathering his thoughts as if he needed to decipher what exactly to tell you. “and he never should have taken that out on you.”

“Why would he be angry with you?”

Maybe it was better to drop the subject, but you couldn’t help the curiosity you felt; an itching feeling that got worse with every word Din said.

“Because I beat him.”

The Mandalorians had a particular way of running things, traditions, and governments that sometimes dated back farther than anyone could remember. It didn’t surprise you that it wasn't a matter of electing someone to become their leader, they had to prove themselves just like they did as a child.

“Our leader before me was a wise man named Goran.” Din paused for a moment, leaning his head back until his visor pointed to the sky and then dipped to look at you. “When the time came, he had no children, successors to carry on his line.”

Shortly after the Verd’goten, The elders had announced that the future chief would be chosen from younglings hand-picked by the council. There were days, weeks dedicated to the trials that had been prepared for them; tests of their skill as a leader, a warrior, a Mandalorian. Something like that didn’t happen every day, and nearly all of the village watched as each of the candidates were tested; it became a game of sorts.

Both Din and Kron had been chosen by the members of the council, both of them had succeeded at nearly every challenge and in the final weeks, they were the only two competitors left.

“He was a few years older than me,” He started walking again, pulling you along with him as you listened to him retell it. “Much bigger and more experienced than I was. I think everyone thought he would be chosen.”

The story Mira told you when you first asked about Din was true. As a final test of their strength, both were sent on a hunt; they needed to kill the Mudhorn that had been terrorizing part of the village. Taking down such a creature would be the ultimate approval of a warrior’s capability and skill, and their willingness to protect those who are innocent. 

Din had won.

The night he had made his way back to the village, carrying the horn of the beast over his back as evidence of his victory, he was welcomed with open arms. The celebration has lasted for a week and at the end of it, he was crowned the new chief.

“You are the only living thing that has seen my face, since.”

The tenants of his creed had been solidified then, with status came the change and responsibility greater than most had.

“How old were you?”

He hesitated, almost as if he was ashamed to admit it.

“Fifteen.”

“You were just a child.”

“Maybe, so.” He looked at you, his free hand coming up to squeeze the fingers still tightly wrapped around his bicep.

“It must have been hard on you, having enormous responsibility so young.”

You could never imagine the burden Din had to carry and to have it from such a young age; sometimes you had no idea how Din had survived for so long on his own.

“This is the way.”

You placed a kiss on the pauldron of his shoulder, right over the Mudhorn signet that had been molded into the beskar, laying your head against the cold metal as you walked in silence again.

There may never come a time when you fully understand Din's creed, and even if you sometimes thought his life would be easier without it, you never wanted to disrespect his beliefs. You would be there for him, even when you disagreed with his reasoning. Making sure he didn't carry such a weight single-handedly anymore was the only thing you concerned yourself with; Din knowing he didn't have to do this alone anymore was all that mattered.

“One day my time will end, and there will be someone to take the helm just as I did from him.”

You had talked about things like this with Din before, most of the conversation happening in the late hours of the night as you tried to find sleep; you talked about a future, the life you wanted to lead with him, and what would become of that. And want the end would look like.

“I don't want to think about that.” You dismissed him, looping your arm around his tighter and pushing any sort of similar thought from your mind.

“All things must come to pass, Cyar'ika.” His tone was gentle, the words almost lost from how quietly he spoke them. “One of our children will be the next to lead us, and I will die at peace knowing they are prepared to take my place.”

“Our children will be lucky to have a father like you to teach them,” you smiled, shaking your head as you looked at him. “I don't think there's much I could do.”

Din slowed his steps, pulling his arm from your grip and he stood in front of you again. Something in him changed, his demeanor much sharper, determined than what it had been before.

“You have overcome so much in your life, Cyar'ika.” He was quiet again, his words carrying an emotion you could feel as he stepped closer to you, the space separating the two of you falling away to practically nothing.

“Just because you have never wielded a weapon in battle does not make your life less honorable.”

He guided your gaze back on him when it fell, his knuckles gently running along your jaw and tapping against your chin as a request for you to look at him.

“Never degrade yourself from anything less than deserving.”

Din had a way of saying just the right thing, it was as if he had time to carefully plan every single word before it fell from his lips. You smiled up at him as he held your face in his hands, the leather of his gloves contrasting the warmth that you felt in your cheeks.

“If our children are half as kind as you are, Cyar'ika….then I know we will have done something right for them.”

-

“Don't look.”

“I'm not.”

You couldn't help but giggle at how silly this felt; the kind of feeling that was light, and innocent and left butterflies that swirled inside your stomach when Din laughed at you. 

“See,” you squeezed your hands dramatically over your face, trying to prove you had no intention of breaking your promise. “I can't see a thing.”

Even with a half-hearted attempt at reassurance, Din wasn't convinced you'd keep true to your word.

“Yeah?”

You felt the soft fabric of a blindfold cover your face, you slipped your hands out from under it as Din tied it in a knot at the back of your head.

“I think I know you better than that, Cyar'ika.”

His arms wrapped around your waist and hauled you off the rock you had taken a break on.

“A girl can try can't she?” He spun you around until you faced in the other direction, setting you down as you gripped his biceps to keep your balance.

“Maybe,” he turned around, and you heard the sound of him moving around a little bit, then his unfiltered voice hit your ear. “But then you'll ruin the surprise.”

He took the bag from your shoulders and you reached out for him blindly, your belongings hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. He held on to your wrists and gave you a quick kiss on the lips before he lifted you into his arms. One of his hands settled underneath your knees, while the other wrapped around your waist.

You couldn't tell why Din had brought you out here, you couldn't see much as the path disappeared under your feet, the worn cut that had been made on the forest floor blending back into its surroundings. Din had insisted you close your eyes as soon as you reached the end, and he guided you to sit and wait until he was ready. The trail had led to the start of a hill from what you could tell, the sun shining brightly on the other side and casting both of you in a shadow as you stood at its base. Din grunted as he started up the hill, and you dug your fingers tighter into his furs as you shifted in his arms.

He carried you to the top; even with you commenting on how capable you were at walking he just ignored you.

“This is about you, Cyar'ika.”

“About me?” You could feel the sunlight pass over your features from behind your blindfold, warm and kissing your skin as you grinned up at him.

He sat you down once he passed the top, helping you balance yourself against him with his hands still roaming your sides. He turned you around with a kiss to your lips, your back pressing against his chest.

“Are you ready?”

He pressed his lips into your shoulder, trailing sweet kisses up your neck until he reached your ear; his voice rumbling deep in his chest as he whispered the words into your skin.

“I hope.” 

There was a nervousness that settled in your stomach, an excitement that flooded your veins but left you woozy as you leaned against him. You felt his hands reach for the blindfold, loosening the knot and letting the soft material fall away from your eyes.

It took a moment for you to adjust to the light, the sun was bright and hovering over the horizon, bathing everything in a beautiful golden glow and you shuddered out a breath when everything came into view.

It went on forever, large stretches of meadow littered with pinks and reds that swirled in gentle patterns; flowers of every kind dancing around your feet and tickling the skirt of your dress. You could see the colors vividly under the brightness of the setting sun; blooms that were full and in every shape imaginable stood at your fingertips.

“Do you like it?”

You felt him smiling against your skin, peppering small kisses along your jaw and cheek.

“It's wonderful.”

You turned in his arms, your faces just a hairbreadth away from one another as a question burned on the tip of your tongue.

“Din, how did you-”

“It's yours.” Din cut you off, his hand cupping your jaw while his thumb gently ran across the apple of your cheek.

“Mine?”

He held onto you tighter, and you felt like you were gonna burst; your chest swelling with the immeasurable feeling you got every time he looked at you.

“I’m giving it to you.”

You could see the warmth hidden behind a heavy-set brow, his irises a deep, rich color that sparkled with golden flecks of sun and left you breathless. His kiss was soft and left your mouth burning in the wake of his touch, your hands threading through his hair and pulling him deeper as your lips slotted together.

“Every year, that is the trail we use when we go on our hunts,” Din explained pulling away just enough for the words to slip past his lip, his palms still caressing the side of your face.

“And every year we pass by this meadow without so much as a second glance.”

Your hands wandered to hold Din’s arms, your fingers trailing along the length of his forearm until they came to rest at his wrists. He smiled as you squeezed them in your palms, your forefinger tracing tiny patterns on the underside of his arm.

“But this time, Cyar'ika, all I could think about was you.”

You felt tears brimming at his words, and when they finally rolled down your cheeks he brushed them away; catching them with his thumb as they fell from your eyes.

“So I'm giving it to you.”

He kissed you again, his mouth heavy against yours and his touch like molten that left a gentle burn underneath your skin. His taste was practically burned on your tongue by the time you pulled away from him, your threaded fingers the only thing that stayed connected as you led him deeper into the meadow. He was impatient, stopping you much sooner than you had planned, your chest colliding as he pulled you back to his arms. Warm, wet kisses trailed over your neck, his teeth sinking into the sensitive spot on your shoulder, making you groan in his ear. You gasped as your hands ran over his back, your nails scratching lightly and traveling to pull the curls at the base of his neck.

You don't remember how you got to the ground, it doesn't even register that you're moving until you feel the solid earth beneath you, pinned by Din's weight. His hands felt like they were everywhere at once, warm, and calloused against your skin once he removed his gloves. They pulled at pieces of your clothes, your own hands going to pull the latches that held Din's cape.

“You want to give me warriors, Cyar'ika?” He growled into your ears, your bodies rutting against each other as you desperately tried to strip yourself of enough layers to have each other. “Be my sweet Riddur and bare my children?”

Din chuckled at the completely sinful sound that left your lips, half-concocted strings of pleas spewing from your mouth; begging for him to touch you, to kiss you, to fill you to the brim with everything that was him.

“Let me breed you, sweet girl, as a proper husband should.”

He wasn't gentle when his hips finally rocked into yours, but it felt so blissful; like your body was tingling with excitement and about to burst with each cant of his hips. 

Your knees dug into the dirt beneath you, the material of Din's cape doing nothing to cushion you from the weight of his thrusts; the sound of your love-making the only thing that could be heard over the moans you shared.

He clung to you as if his life depended on it, kissing every inch of you he could reach and gripping you hard enough to leave imprints of his hands on your skin.

He swallowed the screams that laid on the edge of your tongue in a kiss, his fingers circling your clit as you ride your high over and over again. You were so sensitive when he had finally finished, your nerves heightened and your cunt glistening with the mixture of your releases.

You shared ‘I love you’s between slow kisses, your lips swollen and sensitive as he nipped them between his teeth. You held him close, burying your nose in his hair as you lay beneath a painted sky, every color imaginable dancing above you as the world continued slowly from day into night.

-

There was hardly a shred of sunlight left in the sky as you made your way back to the village. Din all but led you, the darkness making the forest a little more difficult to move through; your fingers gripped any piece of his clothing you could reach, clinging to his side as if you were afraid he'd leave you behind.

He chuckled a little bit as one of your hands gripped his cape, the other landing on his bicep and walking directly behind him, your head resting on his shoulder blade. You let go of him as he tapped your hand, stopping in his tracks to brace himself and telling you to climb into his back. You hesitated for a moment, you have no idea how much longer it would be to get home; there was no way Din could be comfortable carrying you for that long.

“Come on, Cyar'ika.” He turned his helmet to look at you, what little moon that was out tonight glinting off the visor. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, jumping when he told you to and moving with him as his arms helped you settle on his back. He walked a little slower but he still seemed to navigate the trail better than you. You could feel the breaths he took from under his helmet, his chin peeking out from under his helmet from your angle. You laid your head against his shoulder and hummed as you squeezed his neck tighter, your finger sticking out to tickle him along his jawline. He flinched slightly, huffing out a laugh as he groaned out a meaningless warning. You settled your cheek against his pauldron, looking out as slopes of land started to form under the faint shine of the moon. The night was still around you, the only noise that registered being the thump of Din's boots on the ground and the faint sound of a broken breeze that wafted through the woods. You could see lights from the villager's home through the thinning treeline, the mountains that served as the backdrop of your home glowing with blue hue under the moonlight.

“We're almost there.” You commented, pointing a finger in the direction of the village.

Din slowed for a second and lifted his head to follow your hand, commenting on your ‘good eye.’ You huffed and held on tighter to his neck, trying to hold some of your body weight up to make it easier for him.

It didn't take much longer to reach the edge of the forest, the homes of the village much closer and more lively than they had looked from a distance.

There was something uneasy that washed over as you slipped from Din's grip, your feet landing flat on the ground that felt alive underneath you. The earth was rumbling, hardly noticeable but it tickled you through the soles of your boots as you stood still. You look over to find Din looking towards the village, his hand reaching out for you and pulling you to stand behind him. He held onto your hand with a bruising grip as if he were afraid you would slip through his fingertips.

It hit before you could ask him what was wrong, a blinding light that knocked you to your feet and left you scrambling against the dirt beneath you. There was a pounding inside of your head, a deafening sound that was shrill and left ringing in your ears. Your head was spinning as you tried to sit up, fighting against a heavy weight that kept you pinned to the ground. There were sounds of voices, muffled yelling that barely registered as you blinked up at the sky. 

The canopy of the trees was glowing in shades of violent reds that swirled around bellows of smoke. Your body felt heavy, every breath that passed through your lungs burned as you pushed against the pressure that held you down. You tried to move again, your arms limp and scratching against the dirt as shadows passed over your face. Some limbs seemed to move with yours slowly, with heavy hands bumping yours in their search for purchase. And then the weight was lifted, your vision blurring at the sight of Din's silver helmet. His hands held your face, words falling from his lips that were suffocated by the chaos that roared around you. Your eyes felt heavy, every time you blinked it was like heaven to have them close for just a second longer.

You looked at him, watching the colors dance across the profile of his helmet with words stuck on your tongue; sentences lost in the confusion that had settled over your mind. He was still talking to you, his arms sliding under your body to haul you off the ground; the remnants of a promise hitting your ear as your eyes finally closed.

“.... you're gonna be okay.”

Translations:

Vod’ika- Little sister

Alor- Leader, chief

Verd’goten- Mandalorian rite of passage

Riddur- Spouse, Husband/Wife

A/N (pt2): Y’all remember when the reader talked about how much she liked flowers because its something she remembers from her childhood??? Well Din did.

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[they-need-therapy]

Ninjago Fanfic: Where Have You Gone?

So, I wrote a thing... after Season 9 Zane finds... something

TW: Robotic body horror, decapitation, grief

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36908530/chapters/92081686

Zane strode the top of Borg tower in relief. They were back in Ninjago again, Garmadon had been defeated, and all the SOG had been imprisoned. Actually, he did not know that for sure. There was one gang member in particular he hadn’t seen since he and his brothers had left Ninjago. Zane had asked the police if they had found him yet, they told him they didn’t think so, but they had made so many arrests, it was hard to know. They promised they'd be in touch with official records soon. Meanwhile, Zane decided to assist the cleanup effort. Not many people were up on the roof of Borg tower at the moment, only a few volunteers on the opposite side, rounding up trash. Most of the mess the SOG had created while using this place as their throne room had been removed, but it was far from perfect.

Zane set to work,  grabbing a sheet of metal off the ground and sending it into the nearly empty green bin with a resounding clank. He grabbed another one and smiled. Repetitive tasks like these always calmed him. He nearly grabbed a shank of dark metal that looked like a hand until he jerked back in horror. It was a hand. And an arm. An entire, life-size, black, robotic arm. Zane glanced around and wondered, half-jokingly, if there were any other robot arms laying around.

There were. He saw it suddenly. A second hand, barely attached to its arm, was laying not 10 feet from it’s twin. The more he looked, the more everything looked more like robotic parts. Gears, wires, fans, shoulder plates, most of the same black color, but all, unmistakably, nindroid. Zane looked frantically now, flipping over metal scraps to find more parts, not daring to touch them. Feet, ball and socket joints, switches, circutboards, legs, torn jacket bits, a torso; Zane knew who it was. He flipped the last metal scrap. A black biker's helmet and a cracked red visor.

Mr. E.

Zane stared at his former nemesis in horror. His fans kicked into high gear, making him feel dizzy. The helmet was like it always had been, but no more did red eyes gleam inside. His head had been carelessly ripped off his neck and wires protruded from every conceivable exit. Zane thought he might be sick. He dropped to his knees, lightheaded and breathing fast. He sat with his eyes closed for several minutes; he strangely felt like he was the one who’d been  dismantled. When did this happen? Who had been powerful enough to fight him and win? Lloyd? No… his power hadn’t returned until recently; Zane knew no one on his side had done this. He was simply fooling himself. He wanted to believe that it had been an accident, that Mr. E had just fallen apart after a great fall, but he had seen the wires spilling out of his arms, torso and neck. They had burst apart completely. Someone had deliberately torn Mr. E apart. Zane wondered why he felt so crushed. This was the ruthless gang member who had beat and battered him, furious but silently, till the point of system failure. Maybe it was that Zane felt a strange connection to him: he too was a single nindroid in a group of humans. He kept his eyes closed, thinking about all the ways Mr. E was so similar to himself, but his eyes snapped open at the thought of a single question: Is his CPU intact?

Zane looked at the helmet, cracked and dented. He had obviously fallen from a height, but, what if the helmet had been enough to protect it? He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to feel the shock and depressive weight again when he found the CPU damaged. But the hope wriggling inside him would not diminish.

Zane bent forward, and gingerly touched the helmet. Moving his hands to the base, he tenderly inched the helmet off. After little encouragement, it promptly slid off, revealing the boyish face and dead eyes of Mr. E. Zane stifled a gasp, he was looking at his face for the first time, and without permission, too. He quickly and carefully turned his head over, searching the back for an access panel. He found it and gently pushed in. After a moment, out popped the CPU. Zane quickly scanned it. Undamaged. Zane sighed in relief and delight, quickly removing it. He held it gently in his hands, then held it close to his chest. He vowed to then and there to take what he could back home, and to repair his broken enemy.

[beskarhearts]

Hey! Maybe a request where the reader is jealous? Because Din is getting very close with another person? I’ll leave the rest to you :)

You’re literally the best writer out there, have a lovly day<3

Jealousy (Din Djarin x reader)

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

Word Count: 1828

Warnings: cursing, I think that is it

Notes: Ahh, thank you!! That is so kind of you and I hope you have a wonderful day! This is set during Chapter Four, when Din is on Sorgon. I hope you like this! I had a fun time writing this out and being able to have some fun with it. 

If you want to sent in a request, go ahead and do so right here!

______________________

You liked Omera.

It seemed impossible to not like her.  She was kind and extraordinarily patient, not only with the children and the people in the village but with you, Din, and the child as well. She also seemed to be a natural leader among the farm in Sorgan. And she was surprisingly handy with a blaster, which you and Din were very appreciative of considering the rest of the of the people in the village were less qualified for the tasks to come. Not to mention that on top of all of that, she was beautiful with pretty hair and nice eyes. The kind you imagine would be easy for a man to fall for.

Even a man like Din Djarin. 

And there was where your only problem with Omera lied. It was petty and ridiculous and childish, but you couldn’t help but want to scowl whenever you saw the two of them together. You couldn’t even see Din’s face but you could sense the heart eyes he gave her whenever they were with each other. And was it really necessary he stand that close to her when he was working with her on firing a blaster? Not to mention the way they both seemed to just naturally gravitate towards each other, even though they had only met just a mere handful of days ago. It took you what felt like ages to get through Din’s stoic exterior but Omera seemed to be doing that job with ease.

It was silly. You knew that. You had known Din for long enough to consider him your friend, a thought which Din reciprocated. You had somehow been dragged along with him once he rescued the Child, traveling through the galaxy with the two. You guess at this point you were also work partners of sorts. You both took care of the kid and protected him, you knew your way around the ship, and he tried his best to provide safety for the two of you. You both had a rhythm and it worked incredibly well. It was the kind of dynamic you didn’t want to mess up, especially with stupid things like ‘oh, hey Din. Did I mention I am practically head over heels for you?’

So, instead of confessing any deep harbored secrets that you buried within yourself, you just bit your tongue and narrowed your eyes as you continued to watch Din and Omera. Right now, you instead tried to not watch Din and Omera show everybody how to use a blaster, working together like some power couple. Instead you sat with Cara and took a break, both of you sipping away at spotchkas as you avoided the sight of the two training people. And you were content with doing that. You liked Cara and had gotten pretty close with her having spent lots of time with her recently (mostly to avoid Din at all costs but also because she seemed to be a well-adjusted, strong individual.)

“You know, jealously isn’t a good color on you.” Cara teased, breaking you from your train of thought.

You hadn’t even realized you had been staring until she had broken the silence and you whipped your head away from the pair, giving Dune a big scowl which only caused her to chuckle. “I am not jealous.”

“Oh, so you are just giving that nice, lil’ widow that look for fun?” Cara retorted, raising an eyebrow at you knowingly. You had only known this woman for a few days, but she was good at reading people. Too good.

“I like Omera.” you retorted, hoping your voice didn’t sound as strained and foreign to her eyes as they did to yours.

“I believe that. But I don’t think you like that that Mandalorian over there also seems fond of the single hot mom of the farm.” 

“Gee, sounds like you are interested.” You were hoping the joke would turn the conversation to her but she just shrugged. 

“Not my type.” She paused and gave you a small grin before continuing, “What’s your type?”

“Stop.” You warned, giving her what you hoped to be an intimidating look but you knew she saw your flushed cheeks by the way her grin continued to grow.

“Let me guess. Lot’s of metal, no sense of humor, flair for dramatics, handy with a blaster-”

“Alright, alright. Shut up!” You interrupted and she just let out a bout of laughter. You took a big gulp of spotchka, wanting to bury yourself in a whole. You were so consumed by embarrassment that you hadn’t even noticed Din walking up to you. You didn’t look up until his large frame stood in front of the chair you were sat in.

“What is going on over here?” Din asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

“Oh, just boy talk.” Cara gave you a teasing look as her eyes landed on yours. You squinted at her, hoping you were able to properly convey how frustrated you were with her in the moment.

“Boy talk?” Din asked incredulously. He knew you well enough to know you didn’t want to spend your time on conversations like ‘boy talk’.

“Well, I’m not quite so fond of boys. But your girl here is.” Cara gave a quirked smile as she rose from her seat. “Speaking of, I’m going to go say hello to this nice lady over here.” She gestured her head to a woman who was kneeled in the middle of the crop and had continually been giving Cara small smiles throughout the day.  The woman walked away, but not before giving you one last smile and a nod of the head.

Din took her spot on the seat, sitting down and looking over at you. You desperately tried to avoid his gaze, looking out into the farm only for your line of sight to land on Omera. Maker, you are pathetic. 

“You are avoiding me.”

You couldn’t help the way you froze a little, your hand that held the bottle clutching onto it tighter. You had been avoiding him. But you couldn’t admit that because then he would want to know why and you were pretty sure you had endured enough humiliation from Cara alone. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Din let out a sigh. He wasn’t dumb. He could tell how you were purposely not looking in his direction. How every time he tried to make his way to talk to you, you would suddenly disappear or be very preoccupied. How whenever he made his way into the hut you both shared, you would somehow always be asleep when he was present. “So you just haven’t been speaking to me because you don’t want to?”

You felt your heart drop at the tone of Din’s voice. He was a strong, tough man who didn’t often show his emotions. But you could sense a bit of hurt in his voice and felt awful. He was one of your only friends and you might of been his oldest friend, and you had been ignoring him because of your stubbornness and selfishness. But even upon this realization, you still had the pit in your stomach that had been persistent for days now and you couldn’t help the next thing that came out of your mouth. “Maybe you’ve just been too busy with Omera.”

You clamped your eyes shut once you realized you had said what you were thinking out loud. You almost hid your face in your hands but you fought back the urge and instead looked at him squarely, trying to show that you weren’t bothered. Din looked back, his visor peering at you with such intense focus that it made you uneasy. “Omera?” 

You let out a small grunt. “Yes, Omera. The woman who has practically been stuck on your hip.”

Din’s helmet just tilted slighted. “She has been helpful.”

“Helpful is what we’re calling this?” Din didn’t responded, only tilting his helmet even more to express his confusion. You let out a sigh and rolled your eyes. “C’mon, Mando. She is a pretty, single woman who is strong and competent and keeps giving your damn googly eyes.”

“What are you talking about?” Din asked.

You couldn’t tell if he was acting stupid or if he was just trying to drive you nuts, but he seemed to be doing both with success. “You like her! She likes you. It is so obvious.” 

Din started to shake his head and you felt yourself taken aback when a chuckle began to pass his lips. He calmly leaned back into his chair, his relaxed form contrasting greatly with your pinched up body. “Omera is a nice woman. A friend.”

“A friend?” You lamely asked, looking at him with a skeptical expression.

Din looked back at you and leaned forward. “I don’t like Omera.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” You muttered.

“Why are you bothered by it?” Din asked and you leaned back, narrowing your eyes.

“Bothered by what?”

“By the thought that I could be attracted to Omera.” Din calmly said.

Oh yes, you definitely wanted to disappear now. You fumbled with your words, feeling your face warm up. “I-I don’t care.”

“Really?”

“Really. Omera seems great.” You didn’t even sound convincing to yourself and Din knew you well enough to know when you were lying. 

“Cyar’ika.” Din called your nickname like he had so many times before. It was Mando’a but he never told you what it meant, which drove you crazy when he first started. But now he used it often enough that you liked it, made your heart warm up in your chest. You didn’t respond but he rose from his seat, looking down at you. “I don’t like Omera.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay. Not that I would care if you did or anything...”

“You wouldn’t?”

He knew you were lying and now he was teasing you. You were sure of it. You just glared at him and rolled your eyes once again. “Shut up, you stupid tin can.”

Din let out another chuckle. “I like seeing you jealous.”

You didn’t have the chance to say anything before he gave you a small nod and walked off, towards the hut you two shared. You sat frozen in your spot and your brain felt like it had turned off. It took you a moment to readjust before you rose from your seat, walking after him. “I’m not jealous!” you called out.

Din froze where he stood and turned to look at you. You finally stopped in front of him, arms crossed in front of your chest and looking up at him defiantly. “I was hoping you were.”

You stood there stunned, looking up at him dumbly. “What does that mean?”

“You know what that means.” Din said before walking away once again.

Instead of rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face. 

[arbitrarycategories]

how would you rate 1-A’s costumes

alt, if you want something faster, who has the best and who has the worst

okay this was GOING to be a long post with images, but I was harshly reminded of tumblr's image limit so now it will be long post without images!

link to reference picture used

TOP COSTUME

Ingenium II - This costume has everything! It serves as a recognizable hero brand costume, it protects the wearer (from toes to head!), and it looks good! Ingenium II definitely asked for advice from Ingenium I, or else I suspect this costume would have only served the second point.

Froppy - Her costume has everything but a helmet! It definitely makes me think of both superheroes and deep sea divers, which I think is a neat effect! This is a hero you can trust, with a costume that serves it's purpose well!

Cellophane - This costume is super cool! It is very evocative of what his quirk is, which is great for a limelight hero! Also, it has a helmet! He doesn't have any gloves or arm protection, and his costume seems to be made of fabric (is there kevlar built in? is the boy protected?), but overall this costume rocks!

Red Riot - This man is ALL BRANDING, all the time! Lucky Mister Hardening Quirk doesn't have to worry about any safety concerns, so all his costume has to do is be stylish and show that he's a hero! The big R on the belt buckle announces who he is, and the shaggy chic Manly look is VERY cool! I don't know what the face harness is for except looking neat, but mission accomplished! This costume is great!

I Can't Stop Twinkling - A literal knight in shining armor! The only protection he's missing is a helmet, and he's definitely a hero! When this guy comes onto the scene, I feel safe! Also, his suit has internal mechanics that let him shoot his laser from places other than his navel, which is neat! However, his glasses are dumb.

Dynamight - Though he has no helmet, and his shoulders are exposed, this costume covers the rest of his skin, so it's fairly safe! The place it really earns points is in BRANDING. Also in relation to his quirk! This suit definitely lets you know that this hero EXPLODES! It has clever, built in features too, like the funnel system for his grenade gauntlets, which allow for bigger explosions! Also, a neck brace, likely to bolster his shoulders and prevent whiplash! Definitely a super cool, well-thought-out costume!

Uravity - Super cute! Has a facial visor and covers all skin except the head, so gets a good grade in Safety! However, it falls a little flat on the branding side, except for being cute. If I was told this is a space-themed costume, I'd be like! Yeah, that's a space-themed costume! If I was not told however, I would have no idea.

Deku - He has a full-body jumpsuit with extra reinforcement around his legs and arms! Also, a mouth guard! When this guy busts onto the scene, you know he's definitely a hero! ... you don't know his name or quirk, though, because this costume severely lacks BRANDING. It isn't even in fun colors. Muted green is fine, but like. buddy. Make it POP.

Tentacole - Costume covers from neck to toes! Nice color scheme, nice utility! No neat features, support items, or particularly well-done branding. Overall a good hero costume!

Sugarman - Covers from head to toe! Uses a cowl instead of a helmet, though. While a yellow bodysuit isn't the worst choice, it is kind of... boring. Villains with a vendetta are gonna tell this guy that he looks like a Wrestlemania wannabe rip-off.

Anima - Has a neat teeth/mouth shape on the chest of his costume, which alludes to his quirk! Overall, this is a very well-done, simple hero costume! I simply cannot get past the fact that he paired long sleeves with shorts.

Tailman - This is a karate uniform with a neat belt! It looks like it has circuits on it, but we haven't seen those used, or been told what they are, so it might just be a neat pattern. Definitely a solid "average" hero costume.

Pinky - Her costume isn't pink, but she is! This costume is just weird enough that I'm like, yeah, that's a hero outfit! However, it could ALSO just be a fashionista. Plus points because I'm pretty sure her boots have been modified to let her release acid from her feet and skate on it.

Tsukuyomi - This is a CLOAK. It is all quirk-function based! Edna Mode would hate it but it is near and dear to my heart. It's a lil self-based tent for Dark Shadow to hide in and recharge, and I adore it. However if I was a civilian I would think this guy is a villain. Maybe he wants to be an underground hero?

Creati - She LOOKS like a superhero! This is a girl I trust! However, the book shelf has to go. Please go digital yaomomo I am begging. Also this suit is anti-safety gear! But, again, she LOOKS like a superhero, so plus points!

Chargebolt - This is a kid out for a jog with a big bluetooth headset on. There's a granny calling the police to report an incident of public quirk usage right now. She doesn't care who Chargebolt is, stop telling her about Chargebolt, she wants this KID off of her STREET. Plus points for electric motif on the jacket.

Earphone Jack - This kid got lost on her way to a rock concert! This costume's only saving grace are the SPEAKER BOOTS, which fucking rock.

Shouto - This is a JUMPSUIT with a temperature regulating backpack. SIR. At least Jirou put some thought into hers! Shouto your only distinguishable feature is your HAIR and you didn't even try. Blue? You went with blue? It's not even the same blue as your SINGLE BLUE EYE. Awful costume I hate it. PLEASE design something cool enough to match your quirk and personality I am. I am BEGGING Shouto.

Grape Juice - Head to toe skin coverage! Support items that work with his quirk! This is a great costume except that it looks like he is wearing a diaper, so he gets minus a million points. Also if he is going for a grape theme, his secondary color should be green or wine red instead of yellow. This costume looks BAD.

Invisible Girl - Whatever safety is about runs screaming in the opposite direction. Whatever style is about went with it. Sweetheart I am asking you to grow a sense of modesty and speak to the company that made Lemillion's costume.

WORST COSTUME

[beyondspaceandstars]

Knitted

Relationship: Din Djarin x Reader Warnings: N/A Summary: Din notices you've begun keeping something from him, constantly hiding away at night. Finally deciding to confront you, you give him the most adorable surprise. A/N: this isn’t exactly a Valentine’s Day but I thought it was just the right amount of soft and fluffy to post on the day of love :) MASTERLIST

Din realized something was odd the day you came back from the market lugging along two overflowing, large bags. You weren’t exactly one to just splurge for any reason having known way too well the importance of budgeting so to see you arriving back to the ship under the weight of items was confusing.

He tried peaking into the bag but was only able to make out a mirage of colors before you quickly closed it and starting shooing him away. Din tried asking what all that stuff was but you ignored it, attention now set on finding a place for your newly purchased items.

Stuff started to get even weirder with you when you began hiding away in the evening. If in motion, he’d find you in random areas of the ship, your back always to him as your hands worked away at something. When he’d call your name, you’d clean up your supplies and spend the rest of the night with him, very good at pretending nothing was going on.

While situated on some planet or another, you’d take your project outside, furiously working in whatever field you found yourselves in. You’d still make sure your back was to the ship, covering whatever you were doing.

Din would watch you sometimes, greatly confused but hesitant to ask. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel he was overbearing. He knew you could handle your own and hoped you’d come to him in time with… whatever was going on.

But things were even more peculiar when you began allowing Grogu to join you in your work, still denying Din even a hint. He was stunned when he realized this while looking for the child one night. Giggling coos came from outside, driving his interest, and sure enough, there was the little guy sitting across from you, absolutely captivated.

Suddenly, both of you appeared to be keeping something from him. While he didn’t exactly feel anger or worry (What could you possibly conspire with a child?) he certainly felt a tinge of jealousy. Din didn’t want to admit it at first but, yes, he was jealous of the green creature.

Still, though, he tried not to pry. He’d pretend to be just as busy or involved with one thing or another on the ship. You really didn’t seem to notice him faking tasks.

But he had to admit, the loss of your attention from time to time was driving him kind of insane. Sure, you’d accompany him throughout the day and sit with him chatting away in the mornings but the second the opportunity arose, you were off.

Finally, one day, Din decided he was going to at least ask what was up with you. He wasn’t going to be all demanding or intimidating he was just going to ask a simple question with hopes of you letting him in.

It was like any other night as you were seated outside the ship with your back to the ramp, per usual. The child was with you, seemingly very comfortable sitting on your lap. His big ears were peaking out, giving his position away.

Din could faintly hear you going on about something as he was making his way to you, but before he could get very close, you picked up on his presence and collected your items. Moving the child off your lap, you stood up, hands behind your back. You and Grogu stood watching Din as he approached.

"Hi, honey," you smiled innocently at the Mandalorian stomping his way towards you, clearly with a distinct purpose.

"Is everything alright?" He asked, watching your suspicious stance.

"Of course," you nodded. "Why? What’s wrong?"

"I- What’s wrong?" He scoffed but instantly regretted it, realizing his plans of asking a "simple" question were going off the rails very quickly. "I should be asking you that."

"Well, nothing’s wrong here," you said and looked down towards the child. He was glancing between you two. "We’re okay, right?" Grogu cooed in response.

Din just sighed. "What’s with all the disappearing and secrecy? I don’t mean to be nosy, cyar’ika, but it’s getting concerning-,"

"Give me an hour," you blurted out.

"Huh?" Din asked, suddenly dumbfounded by your response. He had just gotten back on his original goal ready with his speech and yet you were already stopping him.

"Give me an hour," you repeated. "I’ll show you what I’ve been working on."

He nodded, "Okay. One hour."

You smiled, nodding back all seriously as he had. "One hour."

***

Exactly one hour later, Din came marching back out only to find in standing in a different spot. The child was nowhere to be seen but from the way you were standing eagerly in front of what looked like some wood debris, something in him told him where he’d find the little guy. This did nothing but add another layer of complete bewilderment.

"So, you really want to know what I’ve been up to?" You teased, rocking back and forth on your feet.

Din sighed, "Cyar’ika…,"

"Okay, okay," you said and stepped to the side, arms outstretched in presentation fashion. "Ta-da!"

What you had to show was far from anything Din could’ve ever expected. There, standing on the debris, was Grogu draped in a long knitted sweater complemented by a tiny matching hat. He waved his little arms in equal excitement as you both looked to Din for a reaction.

"What…?" He was suddenly at a loss for words. Had you done this? Had you been putting together clothes for the child this entire time? A million things ran through his mind as his heart was melting from watching the pride in your eyes.

Kneeling in front of the child, he touched the sweater, almost in disbelief that it was real, and then turned to look back at you. You took a seat next to him, smile as wide and excited as ever.

"I made him some outfits," you said, reaching into your jacket pocket to pull out some more articles of knitted clothing. You handed some to Din for which he stared at, still speechless. "I thought the sweater and hat were the best to show you first but I also have some gloves, socks, even more sweaters-,"

"You made all these? That’s what you’ve been doing?" He finally asked, accidentally cutting off your rambling.

You nodded, "Yeah."

Din got quiet again as he looked over everything, gently inspecting the items. Suddenly feeling embarrassed by his lack of substantial words, you turned your attention to Grogu. You watched as he had begun picking up the tiny gloves to put on. You chuckled at his fascination for the pieces, grateful someone seemed to like them.

"Cyar’ika, I can’t believe it," Din mumbled, placing the garment he was holding back with the others.

"Is- Is it okay?" You nervously asked, still looking towards the child who had just figured out how to put on gloves. He let out little coos at his accomplishment.

"It’s incredible," Din finally answered, now joining you in watching Grogu enjoy the new outfit choices. Your heart nearly burst at his words. A rush of relief came over you as the fear of accidentally overstepping had been creeping in your mind. "You seriously did all this for him?"

You couldn’t help the smile starting to break out on your face again.

"Yeah, I did," you nodded. "I thought he deserved some kind of wardrobe and I got a good deal on the yarn at the market so, I went for it."

Din took one last glance at the clothes before fully turning to you. You just shyly met his dark visor’s gaze.

"Why did you keep it from me?" He asked, softly.

You chuckled, "Why would I tell you when we could give you a little fashion show instead?"

Din couldn’t help but give a small laugh at your explanation. Warmth filled you as you took in his reaction to your project.

"You’re so great," Din whispered as he brought his hand to face, caressing your cheek softly. The warmth was traveling to your face now causing you to unsuccessfully suppress yourself from blushing at his touch.

"Din…" you sighed, practically melting into his hand.

"I mean it," he mumbled, his thumb brushing over your lips. "I know I don’t say it enough but you’re the best partner I could’ve asked for."

You swore your heart skipped a full beat at his words. You pulled his hand from your face and intertwined your fingers. Leaning closer, you gave a sweet kiss to his helmet. Din let out a content sigh at the action.

"You don’t need to say it," you whispered. "You show it every day."

Din had half the nerve to rip off his helmet right then and there and finally soak in your glorious kisses when he heard those words fall off your lips. You must’ve known what he was thinking as you gripped his hand tighter and went in to give another kiss to his helmet — but, of course, someone had to pipe up beside you. Incoherent babbling put a halt to your actions.

You turned to find Grogu standing in front of you two, watching with those curious eyes. He was holding up another long sweater you had made, motioning it up towards you.

Din looked at him, trying to make out whatever he was trying to communicate. "What?"

"Someone is demanding a wardrobe change," you chuckled. "Models are such divas."

Din laughed along as he started helping you get the little guy into a new outfit. When he was content, the child did little spins showing off his little outfit, making yours and Din’s heart absolutely melt.

An arm was slung over your shoulder suddenly as Din pulled you into him. You happily accepted, wrapping your arms around him, nestling your head into his armor-covered chest. You two sat in some silence for a moment or so watching Grogu admire the pieces and work out different accessories.

"I love you, you know," Din mumbled. "A lot."

You giggled, I love you more."

He scoffed, "Impossible, cyar’ika."

[hotdogct]

blooms in adversity ||| n.jm

pairing: na jaemin x reader genre: angst-ish, fluff. words: 1.8k a/n: you ever get rejected from a job and have a complete meltdown over your future hahahahahhaaa just asking for a friend :) title is an obvious nod to ‘mulan’, i listened to way too much hippo campus while writing this. enjoy!!!

network tags: @czennienet​

At this time we have decided to move forward with other candidates in the hiring process. Thank you for your interest and we wish you the best of luck in the future.

The rejection email might’ve landed in your inbox late in the afternoon, but you had been anticipating its arrival all day long - the thought of it lingering, stagnant, weighing heavily on your brain like a storm cloud that refused to pass. 

Jaemin knew this, anticipated it. It’s why the two of you were outside, taking full advantage of the warmth the sun was providing this late spring day. After noticing the neglected planter on your balcony in the early days of your relationship, Jaemin wouldn’t stop nagging you about his ‘legendary’ green thumb. As soon as winter began to fade to spring he began to wax poetic,  explaining the overwhelming benefits plant ownership has on a person and pretty please can-he-take-you-to-the-nursery and-

It’s not that you didn’t appreciate flowers. Some of your fondest memories of the early stages of your relationship were the bouquets Jaemin would spoil you with at each date - how you used to keep them on display prominently in the kitchen, a silent reminder of his newly blooming affection towards you. Even after they wilted, lost their petals, there was seldom time to mourn. A new bouquet would always take its place, and the absentminded cycle could continue.

Absentminded. That was your whole problem, the reason for the sad remains of dead flowers residing in the neglected planter. You had started off with the brightest of intentions when moving into your first apartment - wanting to establish routine and create the perfect place to unwind at the end of the day.

Nervously you had browsed the outdoor section of the nearest hardware store, shaky hands brushing over begonias and marigolds, before settling on a flat of dusty pink petunias to take home. None of these names meant anything to you, no terms familiar. Equipped with extra gardening tools courtesy of your mother, you spent that afternoon carefully digging into the soil. Gently sitting each starter petunia into place and covering their roots as if tucking in a child for the night. For the next few days, you’d make sure to have your daily nightcap of wine out on the balcony, watch the sunset and water the planter. 

But one day you forgot. The next you were tired. Then you went out of town for the weekend. And at that point, shame left you frozen. Rather than attempting to salvage your petunias, you passively let the entire idea and label of “plant mom” slip from your brain.  A pattern that followed you your entire life - never quite being able to follow through, see something to completion. Sometimes you almost feel as wilted as the abandoned petunias themselves.

This was why Jaemin, with his prince-like features, his romantic gestures and bouquets, swept you off your feet almost instantly. Rather than nagging you about a drawer being left open in the kitchen, a light left on in the living room, the messy dining room table after a night of arts and crafts, he would simply take care of whatever chaos you had left in your wake. You might’ve been a storm, tremendous and unpredictable. Yet Jaemin thought there was nothing more beautiful, and decided he was up for the thrill of the chase. 

So it was only fair to humor him, to try again at the “plant mom” thing. After his consistent nagging reached a crescendo that rivaled only the oncoming cicada brood in terms of volume, you found yourselves strolling through the nearby nursery bright and early on a weekend morning. 

“You’ve put this off all Spring long,” Jaemin lamented, gesturing wildly with his hand at the expanse of greenhouses before the two of you. “And look! Now there’s nothing pretty left!”

“What are you talking about, Na?” You could easily spot at least three to four different flats of colorful starters that had already caught your eye, and started to walk tentatively over in their direction. Before you could get too far, Jaemin’s firm grasp on your wrist prevented you from moving much further, a pout apparent upon his features. Instead he pivoted you both in the opposite direction, towards the more complex greenery and shrubs. You shot Jaemin a confused glance, which only led to a small laugh escaping his lips, followed by words that left your cheeks as crimson as the nearby roses:

“Those flowers weren’t nearly pretty enough for the balcony, let alone pretty enough for you.” 

It had been Jaemin who had pushed you to apply for this job. You were blinded by the familiarity of the stressful retail gig you held long before the two of you even met. The ever changing schedule, along with the grueling work and constant understaffing was your unshifting reality. But you had health benefits and a small, but earnest 401K started - what could you really complain about?

Turns out, quite a bit. It wasn’t until one late night in bed, where Jaemin was massaging your back and shoulders wordlessly after a brutal shift - doing his best to water and tend to you, his most beautiful flower. Silently pressing his hands firmly on, around, all over your shoulder blades in a busy pattern, he tried his best to keep his anger contained to the intensity of his movements. How could they neglect you so? A flower of your caliber needed full sun - and Jaemin didn’t need to feel the tight knots your muscles had twisted themselves into to know that you were wilted. While he was especially gifted at keeping his mouth shut, a brief look at your pained, exhausted expression was all it took for him to slip, speak up.

“You deserve better than this.”

Immediately wide eyed despite how tired you were seconds before, Jaemin realized the vagueness of the previous thought, and clarified, pulling away from your body so that you could roll over, sit up. “N-not like that. This job is going to kill you.” 

Your face softened. While stubborn to a fault, even you could admit Jaemin’s argument was sound. When was enough enough?

And then, doubt. Before you could even begin to imagine the possibilities, the blue sky ideas that could await you. Instead, you immediately hone in on the skills you don’t possess, requirements you don’t meet. The idea of not running on automatic, the thought of having to try, of doing something new. The overwhelming fear of rejection. Pulse racing now, each shallow breath in only made the thorns that had grown around your ego constrict themselves further, pressing in uncomfortably.

Jaemin’s arms find their way around your trembling body seconds later, his added weight bringing you back down to earth. You periodically feel his lips leaving gentle kisses, pressed with the utmost care along the back of your neck, the curve of your shoulder. In between, ghost whispers of comfort land reassuringly in your ear.

“You have so much to offer the world.” 

“You deserve to be somewhere where you can shine.”

“Let's get you blooming again, yeah?”

The smile that graced Jaemin’s face when you told him you had a second interview scheduled was so bright it could probably be seen from outer space. True to his word, over the last month he helped revise your resume, hunt for job listings, prepare for interviews late into the night. There was gradually less and less tension in your muscles when Jaemin would massage almost nightly. Buds slowly began to appear on your stems, where rot had once been. 

The second interview went great - or so you had thought. Then the hours after turned into a day, then two, then the week passed without hearing back. Your expectations had plummeted like a sagging helium balloon, days past its prime. The subject went unmentioned by both you and Jaemin, the silence instead speaking volumes.

The two of you were out on the balcony, music blaring. You’re sitting on an uncomfortable stool watching Jaemin below you, donned in a gardening visor and bright pink gloves. He was planting the flowers you were absolutely frightened to take care of, when the rejection email arrived, unceremoniously. 

You blink once, twice, comprehending the words on your phone screen individually. Move forward - are you now set back? Other candidates - no, that’s you, you feel like the “other”, luck - you’ll need it, alright-

Deep breath. 

You look over and down. Jaemin is so heavily invested in covering a starter daisy just right with soil that he missed your initial reaction, your brief show of raw emotion.  Sensing your eyes on him, he looks up at you, squinting into the sun, smiles bright. If autopilot didn’t fail you now, the small smile on your face would convince him you’re fine, everything was fine. 

But Jaemin was intuitive, he was smart, and he knew better. The speaker was playing some cheerful pop song, the weather was cooperating and tolerable. His nail beds were caked with dirt and soil, a favorite feeling of his from childhood that comes with the satisfaction of gardening. His wide eyes were still studying you. There you were, his radiant flower, sitting in the fullest and brightest of sun, and he had nurtured you back to growth.

So why weren’t you blooming?

“Are you okay?”

A small chuckle leaves your lips, knowing the truth and the inevitability of it all. This time when you blink once, twice, in an attempt to avoid Jaemin’s overwhelming gaze, you can feel hot liquid streaming down your cheeks, taste the saltiness of the tears once they hit your lips. You can hear the clatter of gardening tools being abandoned, plastic flats of flowers being shoved aside, and you can feel Jaemin’s broad frame envelop you seconds later, almost knocking both of you off the stool. 

You lose track of the time, sobbing into Jaemin’s chest. An exaltation of the saddest manner, but necessary when coming from someone as normally stoic as you. His tight grip around you never wavered, the softest of rocking motions to settle you down, his familiar hands massaging at your weary frame. Loving words on loop from his lips.

“This is just a minor setback...it’s alright...”

“They don’t know what they’re missing.”

“We’ll get you back out there tomorrow.”

Eventually your brain stops screaming, though a headache remains. Your breath steadies into a slow rhythm. As quickly as it had arrived, the overwhelming anxiety courtesy of the rejection email disappeared.  The once raging storm had subsided.

And still, Jaemin thought, there was nothing more beautiful.