#i think that covers all of the important ones..

[i2sunric]

𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘 (p.sh)

PAIRING: hockeyplayer!sunghoon x classpresident!reader (f)

SUMMARY: after an argument caused by his overwhelming jealousy, you decide to find him in the hockey changing rooms to show him your loyalty, by getting down on your knees.

WARNINGS: jealousy (borderline toxic?) argument, fighting, sunghoon has a bad temperament, smut (blowjob, deepthroat), dirty talking, dom!hoon but reader knows her way with him, cum in mouth, cum eating, high school au (but they’re both 19), hoon is slightly toxic, pet names (slut, baby), messy blowjob, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD

PUBLISHED: 27th November 2024

WC: 2.1k

TAGLIST: permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @destinyhoon @jakeflvrz @emislove @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvr r @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @senascoooop @mitmit01 @cloud-lyy @won4me @slut4hee @leov3rse @aanniikkaa @lvnglysunoo @lovingvoidgoatee @talesofthegreatest @yeonjunswife05 @soobieboo @llearlert @j1sb4e @roslayy @yunhoswrldddd @eneiyri @jakeswifez @malak13567889 @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @hoonics BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED

a/n: peekaboo! guess who rose from not the dead but my drafts? yup, this fic i never actually had the inspiration to write. please REBLOG & COMMENT to share and lmk your thoughts.

The cold air from the rink clung to your skin as you stormed down the corridor, the sound of your heels clicking pounding in your ears.

Every word from the argument replayed in your mind, sharper each time, like tiny blades cutting into your chest. You’d always known about Sunghoon’s temper, how he buried that dangerous, jealous side of himself for you.

He was used to getting into fights and spending more time in detention than in class, but he had tried to change the exact moment you became his girlfriend.

He tried, but sometimes it slipped through the cracks. Sometimes it surged to the surface, fiery and unrelenting, like it had the day before.

For a moment, you just stood there, breathing hard. You thought you’d gotten used to it—the way his jealousy twisted into anger, the way he let it consume him.

It hadn’t, truthfully, but you were going to make everything right again, even if it meant swallowing your pride — and his dick — Because he was more important.

As soon as your council meeting ended, you decided to rush to the hockey changing room in order to get Sunghoon before morning classes.

You waited for everyone to exit, knowing that if your boyfriend was any the annoyed teenage kid he was, he’d take a long shower to calm his nerves.

You ignored all the wolf whistles and viscous smirk as you pushed the door of the male changing rooms open, after making sure everyone except Sunghoon was out.

And there you saw him, sculpted like a Greek god as his dignity was covered only with a towel while he dried his hair with another.

His eyes closed momentarily before quickly snapping back open as his head turned towards the door.

Sunghoon stepped forwards with the towel wrapped around his waist, water still dripping from his hair but his muscles were prominent as he stared down at you

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he spoke, tone harsh and annoyed as he stepped closer to you.

You already knew he was mad, so be it. You stood in front of him with your backpack in hand, your hair perfectly combed and uniform neat “We need to talk.”

Sunghoon's jaw tightened at your words, his eyes narrowing on you as he continued to walk towards you while looking down at you like you were some kind of prey. "Yeah? Well, if you couldn't tell, I’m kind of busy here,"

You sighed, placing your backpack on one of the benches, side stepping him “I can wait.”

"And you think you're allowed to just wait in here? You shouldn't be in here in the first place," He retorted impatiently as he also turned around, walking towards his own locker to grab some clean clothes.

“Then I’ll just have to break some rules.” You replied, letting him know you weren’t backing down. “Why are you mad at me?”

Sunghoon clenched his jaw as he grabbed his boxers, pulling them on under his towel and removing it around his waist before reaching for his school pants.

He didn't bother to turn around to look at you as he was getting dressed, but his attitude changed a bit at your question, scoffing in response. "You really wanna know why I'm mad?" he retorted as he grabbed a plain black t-shirt to go over his head.

You eyed him shamelessly as he got dressed. "That's what I just asked."

Sunghoon couldn't help but notice the way your eyes remained on him, watching as he pulled the t-shirt over his head, his muscles straining against the fabric as he finally looked back at you, eyes dark and expression cold. "It's because of that prick from the council you've been spending so much time with," He responded with venom in his tone as he spoke.

“What about him?” You already knew what was the rant about, you had already heard all of his jealous tantrum the day before.

Still, you needed him to talk to you.

He clearly was not happy about the fact that you were acting clueless. "Don't play stupid with me," he sneered, "You know exactly why I’m mad. You've been spending so much time with that bastard from the council, right under my nose."

You sighed, hands resting on your hip “Because he helps me with my election campaign,” you filled in “Nothing more, don’t act like I’m hooking up with someone.”

Sunghoon couldn't help but scoff again, clearly not believing you whatsoever. "You really expect me to believe that bullshit?" he retorted, his tone cold. "You're constantly with that prick every time I see you. How am I supposed to believe you haven't been doing anything behind my back?"

You raised a brow at him. Clearly, what he had said wasn’t of your liking, “Why do you doubt me?”

"Oh, don't give me that look," He shot back, his expression cold and indifferent as he stared down at you with narrowed eyes. "I have every reason to doubt you. Everytime I see the two of you, you're all chummy, standing way too close together."

You walked close to him, slowly, like a panther ready to attack; waiting for the right time.

“Choose your words carefully.” You said, lowly “Because you know well I would never cheat on you.”

His nostrils filled with the smell of your perfume that he always loved.

He was about to attack again but your words shut him up immediately, his eyes locking with yours as he was slightly intimidated.

However, he still tried to keep his cold, indifferent façade, scoffing again as he leaned against a locker. "I can say whatever the hell I want," he retorted stubbornly.

You looked up at him “What do you need?” you asked “Do you need me to prove myself to you?”

Sunghoon couldn't help but notice the way you stared up at him, and as much as he wanted to keep his cold facade and be stubborn, he was also slightly affected by the fact that you were making it so difficult for him to stay mad at you.

“What are you getting at?" he asked, his tone still harsh as he kept his eyes locked on yours, his arms folded as he leaned against the locker.

Your tone was low “You need my reassurance, Hoon?” his heart skipped a beat as you called him by his nickname, something you never did when you're upset.

"What kind of reassurance?" he questioned, “My loyalty.” you replied.

“And how do you plan on showing me?” your hand slowly travelled up his thigh to squeeze his groin.

Sunghoon reached out for you, his hands gripping onto your hips tightly as he pulled you closer so your body was now pressed against his. "Is this you being loyal?"

You smirked and squeezed him, nodding your head, making Sunghoon suppress a shiver. A mocking scoff left his lips “Yeah? You think that is enough?”

You rolled your eyes, “You think so lowly of me.” you slowly sank down to your knees.

Your long socks weren’t long enough to cover your knees and neither was your skirt, which meant you’d have some serious sore knees later. But it didn’t matter, not when you needed to redeem yourself to your boyfriend.

Sunghoon's eyes widened as you sank to your knees in front of him, now face to face with the prominent tent in his pants he had tried to hide from you moments ago.

“This isn't proving anything yet," he managed to spit out, his tone shakier than ever.

Instead of verbally replying, something you know would only lead to yet another fight, you decided to lower his pants.

Sunghoon wasn’t average, he was thick and long, something you had tried to cope with over the time you dated. Because it hurt, but it hurt so good.

As his boxers and pants fell down to his ankles, his cock sprung free, proud and red in front of you.

“Are you such a slut?” He asked, even if his hands gently gathered your hair so you wouldn’t dirty them “Going to your knees to resolve everything, uh?”

You rolled your eyes and began giving kitten kisses to his prominent bulge, making Sunghoon shiver.

Your hand wrapped around his cock, and you pumped him painfully slowly.

He let out a soft groan in response, especially when your finger brushed against a certain vein that had his hips buck.

Your lips enfolded his angry tip, tasting the salty precum “Fuck,” Sunghoon sighed.

Impatient, and still irritated by your argument, he gripped your hair and pushed his length deep inside your throat.

You gagged at the sudden action, trying to take deep breaths not to actually retch your breakfast.

You looked up at him with an annoyed gaze, making your boyfriend chuckle “Can’t take it?”

You hummed, sending vibrations through his whole body as you bobbed your head back and forth.

Sunghoon leaned his own against the locker, his other hand flexing as he got lost in the pleasure you were giving him.

You pulled away to gather your breath, saliva and spit coating your lips. It was such a hot sight for Sunghoon.

You cleaned your mouth and used your saliva to lubricate his shaft, pumping him and then taking him again.

You tried not to gag again around him, using one of your hands to help you where you couldn’t reach.

“Good girl.” Sunghoon murmured, slowly going back to his usual self.

You smirked around his cock and pushed your head deeper, feeling his thick tip hitting the back of your throat.

Sunghoon let out a low moan, “Fuck, just like that.” he breathed out, “Bet that guy would dream of having you like this, mh? Should I take a picture and send it to him?”

You shook your head, but at the idea of Sunghoon being so jealous he’d even snap a picture while you were sucking his dick aroused you. You squeezed your thighs together to soothe the aching feeling in your core.

“Keep going,” Sunghoon changed as he matched your pace with his own thrust, each one almost making you gag, “Your mouth was made to suck my dick.”

It was a challenge, but you’d endure it if it meant soothing the beast that lay under his skin. Your beast, your demon.

When you felt his legs tremble, you knew he was close, so you hollowed your cheeks and let him fuck into your mouth.

One of your hands dropped limp while you used the other to palm his balls, adding to the already overwhelming pleasure he was feeling.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.” He said, trying and failing to get you to move away.

You were all dolled up for school, and he had already messed up your hair, he didn’t want to stain your uniform with his cum, however erotic such an image was.

You let out a disapproving hum, which was enough to send him over the edge.

“Ah— Shit.” His cock twitched in your mouth as you wrapped your lips around his length and swallowed all off his seed, greedily taking every drop.

His hips bucked weakly a couple of times before you pulled away and licked your lips.

Standing up on wobbly legs, you took a tissue from the pocket of your skirt and cleaned your mouth, as well as some smudged make up.

“You didn’t have to swallow it.” Sunghoon said as he tucked his softened cock inside his pants, “I know how much you don’t enjoy it.”

It was true. You thought it was gross to swallow whenever you gave him head, but you also knew how much he loved it. He loved when you took his cum, when you gave him a reason to claim you.

“If I didn’t want to swallow, I wouldn’t have done it.” You replied, fixing your hair and taking your discarded backpack.

Just in time, the bell rang. Being the (hopefully) soon-to-be school president, you couldn’t manage to arrive late to class, so you tiptoed and pressed a quick peck on Sunghoon’s lips.

“I’ll see you after school, yeah?” You murmured, smirking when you noticed how flustered he was, “I’ll let you take me in whatever position you want.”

Sunghoon shook his head, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pressing a hot kiss to your mouth. Argument long forgotten, “Where did I find you?”

You wiggle your brows “In your wildest dreams.”

[jungwnies]

INVITING YOUR F1 BOYFRIEND TO YOUR FAMILY THANKSGIVING

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : genre : fluff ୨ৎ : tws : light kissing, nothing heavy ୨ৎ : word count : 1862

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this one is for all my US babies who are celebrating thanksgiving today!!

ʚ・max verstappen

it was a week before thanksgiving and you got in your bed to see an already tired max laying down, as you get underneath the covers you lay against him and look at him, "baby."

he gives you a hum and look sat you, "yes?"

"i know you guys don't celebrate this holiday, but i really want you to come to the family dinner on thanksgiving, and i know you have practice on the 29th, so i could ask them to move the dinner a little early so you can come." you tell him, softly.

"you know i've never celebrated thanksgiving before?" he laughs before turning a bit to see your face, "if it’s important to you, i’ll be there. just don’t let me mess up your traditions, okay."

you laugh, "all it consists of is a turkey and some yams, but i mainly want you to come because my family will be there, and you know how much they love you."

“so, is this where you make me eat turkey until i can’t move? or are we going to do one of those cheesy gratitude speeches?” max teases, putting a smile on your face.

you shake your head, laughing softly. "maybe a little of both. but mostly, i just want you there with me."

max's teasing grin softens, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. "then i’m there. but i’m warning you now, if your uncle challenges me to some weird american football game, i’m going all in."

"oh, he will," you reply with a smirk, snuggling closer to him. "but i think you’ll be just fine. my mom already says you’re part of the family."

he wraps his arm around you, pulling you even closer. "good. because i don’t plan on going anywhere."

with that, you drift off to sleep in his arms, excitement bubbling in your chest for the holiday—and for having max by your side.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you stand by the kitchen counter, watching lewis chop vegetables with surprising focus. “babe,” you say softly, leaning against the counter.

he glances up with a warm smile. “what’s up, love?”

you hesitate, toying with the edge of your sweater. “i was thinking... thanksgiving is next week, and it’s really important to me. i’d love for you to come to dinner with my family.”

he sets the knife down, giving you his full attention. “thanksgiving, huh? i’ve never done one of those before. what’s it like?”

“it’s mostly just food," you begin, thinking off all the components of a thanksgiving dinner, "turkey, stuffing, pie... oh, and my family asking you too many questions,” you laugh nervously. “but it’d mean a lot if you came. i know you’re busy, though, so no pressure.”

lewis steps closer, resting his hands lightly on your waist. “if it’s important to you, i’ll make time. i’d love to be with your family and see what this whole thanksgiving thing is about.”

you smile, relief washing over you. “really? even if it means answering endless questions about racing?”

he laughs, pulling you into a hug. “as long as they have some good food, i think i’ll survive.”

you snuggle into his chest, grinning. “trust me, my grandma’s sweet potato pie will make it worth it.”

he kisses the top of your head. “then i’m sold. just promise you’ll stick by me if someone starts grilling me about my cars.”

“deal, but i can't stop my dad from scolding you for speeding in your mercedes” you say, your heart full as you imagine lewis sitting at the dinner table, effortlessly charming your family.

ʚ・carlos sainz

you find carlos sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through his phone while lazily petting your dog, a sight that makes your heart squeeze. you sit down next to him, tucking your legs under you.

"carlos," you say softly, nudging him with your knee.

he looks up with a small smile, his brown eyes warm. "qué pasa, cariño?" (what’s up, love?)

"so... thanksgiving is next week," you start, playing with the hem of your sweatshirt. "and i was wondering if you’d come to dinner with my family."

he tilts his head, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s holding back a grin. "thanksgiving? the one with the turkey and... what do you call it? the cranberry... jelly?"

you laugh, shaking your head. "yeah, that one. but it’s not just about the food. it’s more like... being with family and saying what you’re thankful for. i know it’s not a spanish thing, but it’d mean a lot if you came."

he sets his phone down, fully turning to you. "sabes que soy terrible con estas cosas sentimentales, ¿verdad?" (you know i’m terrible at these sentimental things, right?) "i’ll probably say something dumb like ‘i’m thankful for ferrari.’"

"my dad would probably high-five you for that," you tease, leaning closer.

he chuckles, his hand sliding to your knee. "si tu padre está de acuerdo, ¿cómo puedo decir que no?" (if your dad’s on board, how can i say no?) "but only if you promise to save me from saying something embarrassing."

"deal," you say with a grin. "but you should know... my mom is going to love you. she’s been asking about you non-stop."

"ay dios," (oh god) he groans, leaning back dramatically. "what do i even say to impress an american family."

"just be yourself," you reply, resting your head on his shoulder. "trust me, you’ll charm her in five seconds flat."

he presses a kiss to the top of your head, a playful smile on his lips. "fine, but only if i bring some jamón ibérico, your family has to try real food."

you laugh, already picturing him at the table.

ʚ・charles leclerc

you find charles lounging on the couch, leo curled up at his feet. you sit beside him, nudging him gently.

"love," you say, a little shy.

he looks up with a smile. “quoi, mon amour?” (what, my love?)

you bite your lip, feeling nervous. "so... thanksgiving’s next week, and i know it’s not a thing in monaco, but i was wondering... would you come to dinner with my family? they’d really love to have you."

charles tilts his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “thanksgiving? with the turkey and... pumpkin pie?” he laughs softly, his accent making the words sound so sweet.

you nod. "yeah, that’s the one. it’s all about family, and it’d mean a lot to me if you came."

he sets his phone down, his smile softening. “mon amour, if it’s important to you, i’ll be there. i wouldn't miss it.” his voice is warm, sincere.

you grin, leaning in a little closer. "you sure you’re ready for my family’s chaos?"

he laughs, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “i think i can survive turkey... and maybe even your mom’s pumpkin pie." he pauses, his smile turning a bit mischievous. “but don’t be surprised if i say something cheesy in front of your family, like... ‘i’m thankful for the beautiful woman beside me.’”

your heart skips, and you chuckle. "oh, charles, you're going to melt my mom’s heart."

he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "as long as i don’t have to speak perfect english, i’m good," he teases, making your heart swell.

you smile up at him. “you’ll charm them with that accent, i’m sure.”

“maybe i’ll speak more french just to make it worse for you,” he laughs, his hand gently squeezing yours.

you lean against him, feeling warm and happy. “they’re going to love you, charles.”

“as long as i get to be with you, mon amour,” he whispers, pulling you close.

ʚ・lando norris

you catch up with lando in the paddock, after a long day of practice. the energy is buzzing around you, and you decide to ask him something you've been thinking about all day.

"hey, babe," you say, trying to sound casual.

he glances at you with a grin. “what’s up, love? you look like you’re about to ask me for a big favor.”

you take a breath, then ask, "so, thanksgiving’s next week, and i know it’s not really your thing... but would you maybe want to come to my family’s dinner? it’d mean a lot to me."

lando raises an eyebrow. “thanksgiving? where you eat a ton of food and pretend you’re thankful for it? sounds like a lot of work.” he laughs, teasing. “you sure you want me there?”

you laugh, shaking your head. “it’s more than just food. it’s about family. i’d really love for you to be there.”

he looks at you for a moment, then smirks. “well, as long as there’s no awkward speech about what i’m thankful for, i’m in.”

“no speeches, i promise," you say, nudging him. "just food and a bit of small talk, and family games"

"perfect," he says, grinning. “i’m really looking forward to explaining how fast i go, and how many awkward questions i’ll get.”

“they’ll love you,” you assure him.

“as long as i’m not talking about racing the whole time,” he says with a wink. “deal?”

you smile, relieved. “deal.”

"good," he replies. "just don’t expect me to wear anything fancy. i’m more of a jeans and hoodie kind of guy.”

"that's fine, i prefer seeing you in something casual anyways." you tell him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

ʚ・oscar piastri

you find oscar lounging on your couch, casually scrolling through his phone. you sit next to him, feeling a bit nervous but determined.

"hey, oscar," you say, breaking the silence.

he looks up with a grin. “what’s up, love? you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

you take a breath and ask, “so, thanksgiving’s coming up, and i know it’s not really your thing, but... would you want to come to my family’s dinner? it’d really mean a lot to me.”

oscar raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk spreading across his face. “thanksgiving? so i get to eat a ridiculous amount of food, pretend i’m thankful for it, and survive your family’s questions? sounds like a good time.”

you chuckle. “yeah, that’s about the gist of it. but honestly, i really want you there. my family’s gonna love you.”

he leans back, pretending to think for a second. “alright, alright, i’m in. but only because you’re asking so sweetly. just don’t expect me to behave too much. and, for the record, i’ll definitely be expecting enough food to make up for all the small talk.”

you laugh. “no complaints about the food, i promise. but if you start making jokes about the turkey, i’ll disown you.”

“mate, making jokes about turkey is basically my job,” he grins. “but alright, i’ll be good. as long as i don’t have to wear a suit or anything fancy.”

“you’re safe,” you reassure him. “just dress nice enough to not scare anyone off.”

he leans in closer with a wink. “deal. let’s see if i can survive a night of turkey and awkward family banter without causing too much chaos.” he smirks. “should be fun.”

you smile, feeling a wave of warmth. “i’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[keferon]

My hands are shaky and my head is refusing to work properly! But! I made it!

The Blurr chapter for Mecha au >:D

Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.

Blurr's job is to smile for the camera and take the applause of people who praise him for his bravery and sacrifice. Blurr's job is to sell his face, his voice and his skills to millions of viewers. He must impress investors, show off advanced technology and make a determined face saying that to save mankind he is ready for anything. And then get in a luxury car and drive off to some expensive place to burn a whole bunch of zeros out of his paycheck.

He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.

And people believe him.

And they love him.

Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.

Under the cut

————————————

Nobody likes Blurr.

Okay, if you think on a large scale, everyone loooves Blurr. His face is on every poster, his brand is in every possible store, his voice and is in every cool commercial. You literally can't exist without knowing who Blurr is, or at least seeing his face once. It's a “Luke I'm your father” level phenomenon. How massive a rock do you have to live under to miss something like that?

Everybody loves Blurr. You can go buy a t-shirt with his face on it. You can go listen to his interviews or purchase a tiny replica of his action figure. There are incredibly many ways a Blurr fan can blow a hole in their budget.

Swerve knows, because he's done it many times. And recently, it's stopped being something he's proud of. To be precise, it was exactly four days ago when Blurr first stepped into his office. Swerve had just finished his shift and was finishing his tea when his boss suddenly appeared in the doorway, with the best racer in the world right behind him.

The tea was instantly dropped, adrenaline was released, and the brain was turned off.

In that moment, Swerve thought that this is what it must look like. The moment when all your good karma comes together in one pile to reward you for all the times you dropped a sandwich butter side down or missed a deadline.

Both of which happened with annoying regularity. Swerve is unlucky. Sometimes things seem to fall through his hands.

It started out great.

Swindle, their boss, showed up in the office space one day looking simultaneously jubilant, nervous, and very inspired. Usually on such occasions, Swerve could almost see the dollar signs reflected in his boss's glasses.

“Attention everyone. We have an important guest arriving in an hour.”

Swindle expressively pushed his glasses down on his nose and looked around the room

“I promised him a tour and I expect you all to behave yourselves.”

He meticulously looks around the floor beneath his feet

“Send someone to clean up all the trash. This place is unbelievably filthy. The floors should be sparkling in twenty minutes! And, oh! Hey you, go buy some good drinks.”

Having finished inspecting the floor Swindle hurriedly runs off, probably to say the same thing to the neighboring department.

Swerve stretches his neck out curiously, listening in

“Is the president coming to see us?”

Walking by, Jazz shrugs

“When the president was coming Swindle said the floor was dirty and made him wear boot covers.”

It's not the president

Swindle gestures generously to the entire office at once and looks overall like a bird trying his best to primp up

“And here we have the engineering department offices. In the next building is the assembly plant, that's where the mechs are put on their feet so to speak. And this is where all the computing, design, and planning happens.”

Just over his shoulder stands and looks around at none other than

Oh, dear God.

Swerve's tea flies to the floor next to his thought processes.

He's seen Blurr countless times, but never in person. How can this guy look as good in person as he does in expensive retouched-until-squeaky-clean photos? Mystery.

Blurr's gaze slides lazily over the simple office setting and for those two seconds when it's directed at Swerve it feels like sheer madness. He tries to look normal. He's not sure he's succeeding, but he's making an effort.

Swindle waltzes through the office, heading for the next door

“Come on I'll show you the mech hangar.”

Blurr grins.

“A highlight of the show I suppose~”

His voice is like a needle bursting a ball of stunned silence. People begin to rise from their seats and scramble to say hello. Someone asks for an autograph, others ask for a bunch of selfies, a couple people in the corner hastily fix their hair, one of the employees just pulls out his phone and shamelessly starts filming.

Swindle looks at the this with an unchanging commercial smile, but his gaze promises all kinds of punishment.

Perhaps if it had been the president, the buffoonery would have been smaller.

______________

For the next few days, Blurr is the big news and the center of all discussion.

Officially? He's becoming one of the pilots in the Mecha program.

In fact? Swindle's greedy soul couldn't get enough of the idea that the Mech concept could be monetized.

The dust is blown off Blurr and his boots are licked. He doesn't go to general training, he doesn't participate in ordinary or overly dangerous missions. He's allowed everything and a little more. His job is to look pretty on camera, speak his lines, smile and wink. He's a walking advertisement and Swindle's incredibly powerful tool in negotiating with investors.

Swerve once saw him called to a negotiation in the middle of the night, and even sleep-deprived and exhausted after a full day of filming, Blurr had the strength to pull that charming expression on his face and flawlessly play along with Swindle wherever he needed to.

His mech was a work of art. And that's not even an exaggeration. Usually the main purpose of mechs is to be efficient and practical. Blurr's Mech was made separately and so many people worked on its design that it could have its own end credits. It's beautiful, sleek, shiny and show-offy. It's designed to be awe-inspiring, but not so decorated that it's ridiculous.

When Swerve looks at its specs, he almost feels sick. Maneuverability, mobility, everything is absolutely top-notch. But most importantly, speed.

The technology to accelerate Mechs to incredible speeds has been around for some time, but the average robot doesn't reach even half of the technically possible maximum. Because even the fastest machine can't outrun the human brain.

After a certain threshold, pilots are no longer capable of controlling their own Mech. Human reaction speed is simply not enough to maneuver without crashing into anything or losing their orientation in space. And. Well. Without losing consciousness.

This has led to Mech manufacturers sort of tacitly agreeing on a rough speed limit and tending to stick to it. Just to make the technology safer and more suitable for everyone.

Regardless. Everyone except Blurr apparently.

Because the numbers across from his Mech's speed specs are horrifying. Swerve looks at the blueprints and thinks it's either freaking awesome or absolute suicide. Maybe something in between. Can a human being have reflexes like that? What about this turning mechanism? The numbers tell him that these levels of g-force make a large percentage of pilots just pass out.

Is Blurr really going to pilot this death wagon??

To achieve that kind of speed and mobility, they'd have to cut off half the armor or make it very light. Which would almost be like inviting a dangerous injury.

But if the Mech is made primarily to flaunt rather than fight...well... it probably makes sense.

Swerve's inner fan is sliding down the wall.

Blurr is incredible. And what's even more incredible is that he's kind of sort of almost Swerve's coworker now.

It only takes him a couple days to realize.

Everyone loves Blurr.

But the one who loves Blurr the most is Blurr himself.

The rose-tinted glasses are breaking slowly but surely. On the first day, Sverve walks up on shaky legs to get introduced. He tells himself that this is definitely not an attempt to get an autograph. They're coworkers. He's just...uh...greeting a new employee.

Blurr looks slightly bored.

“You're from this department....uh.. What's its name, whatever.”

Swerve clutches his hands in front of him so he doesn't accidentally drop anything

“OH.Uh yeah. Swerve! Engineering Department. You were there on a tour the other day. I usually work in the assembly plant, making armor for Mechs, developing new alloys. But I design too! I, uh.

(Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. He'll think you're a crazy fan. Don't talk about Blurr.)

Blurr starts to get sidetracked by his phone.

Swerve swallows awkwardly.

“I'm uh. I'm a big fan of yours. Sir.”

(Good job...)

Blurr chuckles softly and offers out his hand

“Well, nice to meet you.”

Sverve's hand is shaking like crazy, he hopes he isn't squeezing too hard. Working in the assembly has made his hands rough. Blurr's narrow, soft palm is almost sinking in his grip.

“ 'Nice to meet you, yes. Nice to meet you sir! If you, ah, if you have any problems or questions or uh, well. You know, if you need help with your Mech or upgrades or or.”

Blurr chuckles.

“I'll be counting on you~”

Swerve feels like his soul is about to break away from his body.

The next, day when they cross paths in the hallway Blurr waves to him.

“Hey you. Whatever your name is. Can you tell me how to get to Block D?

Swerve stops awkwardly.

“Ah. Of course! I'm Swerve sir. Come, I'll show you.”

Blurr smiles a beautiful, ad-libbed smile and follows him in

“Thank you darling.”

From this point on, the entire program gradually learns a simple but unpleasant truth.

Blurr is an asshole.

And nobody likes him.

He always has everyone at his beck and call. You rarely get to see him on his own. There's always someone swirling around him with a guilty or annoyed face. A sort of serve-get-show-explain designated poor guy.

Swindle treats Blurr like a precious antique vase.

Blurr treats people like his servants.

The whole world is in love with the glittering cover, the image polished to a squeak. Until recently, Swerve was doing the same thing. Now it feels more like an embarrassing crush.

Blurr still doesn't remember his name. He actually remembers at most three to four people by name, and calls everyone else “hey you” or “ darling”. After Swerve reintroduced himself to him for the fourth time he just sort of...stopped trying.

On the field, Blurr is incredible. No one can deny that. The tremendous speed of his Mech leaves all the other pilots in the dust. Whoever said human reflexes weren't fast enough? HA. When Swerve sees his reports and results, he gets dizzy.

The combination of such incredible speeds and light armor means Blurr simply can't miss. If he hesitates, if he falters. If he gets confused. The whole metal thing will smash him to smithereens.

And yet Blurr comes back untouched time after time.

Swerve's no longer inclined to think it's just because of his mad skills. He knows that Swindle is paying Blurr a lot of money for his cooperation. No one would let Blurr fight on the front lines, no. It would be too dangerous. He has to do just enough so that Swindle can record a commercial and in it call Blurr a badass pilot without adding small print to that statement.

Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.

Blurr's job is to smile for the camera and take the applause of people who praise him for his bravery and sacrifice. Blurr's job is to sell his face, his voice and his skills to millions of viewers. He must impress investors, show off advanced technology and make a determined face saying that to save mankind he is ready for anything. And then get in a luxury car and drive off to some expensive place to burn a whole bunch of zeros out of his paycheck.

He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. But he is the first person every citizen would name if asked to say something about the Mech program. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.

And people believe him.

And they love him.

A month later, he still can't remember anyone's names and sometimes calls people by the colors of their clothes, laughing as if they should take it as a cute joke.

Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.

That's okay.

It's not like fanboying over Blurr is Swerve's only passion.

He gets upset.

Then he gets mad and rips down all the posters.

Then he has no time to be angry because Swindle wants to launch Mechs into outer space and damn it, Jazz flies off the planet and doesn't fucking come back. The engineering department stays up nights trying to figure out where he's gone, but they can't.

Unlike Blurr, everybody loved Jazz.

Unlike Blurr, Jazz deserved every ounce of that love.

The ground beneath his feet is starting to shake.

At first, all that happens is panic. Everyone starts making a confused noise, someone assumes an earthquake.

A voice on the speakers says that everyone needs to evacuate immediately, but no one hears it because huge mechanical tentacles start coming through the windows and the whole building starts shaking, creaking and crumbling.

Sverve has seen the monsters humanity has to fight many times. But never this close. And their size leaves him absolutely terrified. These things are huge, they take up all visible space. And what's most damning is that they can break down the walls around Swerve like a fucking cookie.

He's gonna die. Oh god he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die here under this stupid rubble or get eaten or turned into one of the ugly bloody stains on the wall. His heart is doing a million beats a minute and his eyes are starting to sting. He tries to get to the emergency exit, but the door is blocked by one of the huge toothy creatures that is actively trying to get in.

Next to him, Swindle is shouting to someone on his comm, trying to sound louder than the rumble of the collapsing building and the hungry aliens.

The floor tilts at a very disturbing angle and Swerve grabs one of the interior doorways to stay in place. A second later, he reaches out and pulls Swindle, who has already slowly begun to slip toward the monster's huge hungry maw, to the same doorway.

Swindle grabs onto the frame of the door and Swerve at the same time. His glasses are cracked and his usually neat expensive coat is all dust and debris.

“It was a trap.”

Swerve can't hear a word over the grinding of breaking structures.

“What?”

Swindle almost slips and falls, but Swerve grabs him by the scruff of his coat and puts him back on his feet. Working in an assembly shop gives a man strong arms and right now he's very grateful for it.

Swindle makes a second, louder attempt

“It was a trap!!! All available pilots are now on the other side of the country! I've called for backup, but who knows how fast they'll get here.”

A smooth, silky voice comes from a walkie-talkie strapped to his coat.

“Ouch Swindle. So little faith in my professional skills?”

Swindle rounds his eyes

“Blurr??! Where are you!”

Blurr's voice sounds...not quite as it usually does. It's missing the habitual lazy note. The one that makes him sound like the whole world owes him money.

“Give me another minute and the answer will be 'here'.”

The building shakes again. Swindle swears so eloquently that Swerve can't help but admire it.

Swerve can't stand Blurr's smug face, but when he spots the first glimpse of blue metal in the window, joy floods his brain.

He usually associates Blurr with dumb nicknames, dismissive treatment, and commercials.

Now he watches the sleek, fast Mech lunge fearlessly at the monsters surrounding the building and thinks that. Fuck this. He's an asshole, but if he buys Swerve enough time to evacuate, he'll bring him a thank you card or something later. Though it's unlikely Blurr will care about that of course.

Swindle continues to shout instructions over the walkie-talkie. Swerve basically drags him outside by. He jumps up probably a full meter when very near him one of the monsters falls to the ground.

Blurr's Mech stands proudly on top of the fresh corpse and looks...actually really bad. Swerve knows that this particular robot was not built for rough, open confrontation. Its armor is too thin. Designed for speed and agility, not strength. He assembled it himself, after all.

Many of the plates are crumpled. Some are torn off. His legs are intact, but one of the joints sparks funny.

Blurr quickly looks around and Swerve unwittingly follows his example. The whole place is on fire. Office buildings are in ruins and a huge column of black smoke rises above the assembly plant.

Blurr's Mech drops to the ground and gets down on one knee. The plates on its chest are pulled aside and Blurr sticks his head out of the cockpit while simultaneously opening the visor on his helmet.

“Everyone okay?”

Swindle clutches the walkie-talkie

“The office areas are empty, but there still could be people left on the lower floors of the assembly plant. But we have no access there!”

Blurr drums his fingers quickly on the metal plate

“Fire?”

Swindle shrugs his dusty shoulders

“Something exploded at the bottom of the building. It's a real smelter down there.

Even if we send a Mech, it won't last more than a minute before it overheats. Or make the building collapse.”

Blurr's gaze becomes focused. Sharp. Swerve has seen that look many times on tough front line fighters like Jazz. On Blurr, never.

“'That's enough time for me.”

Swindle waves his hands

“Are you crazy?”

Blurr slaps his palm against the armor of his Mech

“This baby is light. Lighter than anything you've got! If anyone can do it without dropping the building, it's me. They make Mechs in the assembly hall, it's got high ceilings right?”

Swerve wants to snap. He wants to throw his hands up angrily and yell something along the lines of “you were literally there!”

Who else is down there on those lower floors??? Tailgate? Maybe Wheeljack? If something exploded, Wheeljack was definitely there. And probably closest to the explosion.

Swindle curses furiously, but retreats and runs off to give orders to someone else.

“”Be a hero if you want, but I'm not going in there. For all I know there could be melting metal in there instead of a floor! It's just not reasonable.”

Swerve's brain stumbles over that statement. Why...Swindle is acting like he's being forced to climb into that building too...?

Blurr looks nervous.

“You know what. Fine. I got it. Hey, you--”

And there it is. The good old namelesness.

Blurr pays no attention to Swerve's frowning face, nor his hands shaking with fear

“ You're familiar with those buildings. You know who was there and where to find them right? I need you to walk me through.”

Swerve feels the urge to snap again and this time doesn't hold it back

“If you cared about something other than yourself, you'd know this damn building and the people who work in it too and !”

“I don't fucking remember!” Blurr interrupts him.

Swerve doesn't have time to put anything in after that. Though a sarcastic comment is begging to be made.

Blurr quickly takes off his helmet and wipes the sweat off his forehead.

“I don't remember okay! This isn't a fad or posing or whatever else you think of me. This is what an accident can do to you if you miss a turn! I can't remember shit, okay?! Do you need a medical report?!”

Swerve just...stands there with his mouth open and probably looks like an idiot.

Blurr nervously tucks back his disheveled hair. The longer he talks, the faster he does it.

“Now. I know you don't want to die in a pit of fire. But I need your help to save them. Don't do anything, just take the map. I promise I won't let you die.”

He sounds determined. And holds out his hand to Swerve, silently inviting him to climb up onto the Mech.

His face is stained in sticky dust, his hair is an absolute mess, and his narrow palm is covered in streaks of soot. It's as if he's been dragged face down a muddy road.

He's. Very Handsome, Swerve thinks.

He takes his hand.

Blurr helps him up, pushes him into the space next to the pilot's seat, and closes the cockpit.

“Been inside a working Mech ever?”

Swerve clenches his hands nervously on the back of the seat

“No.”

The lights of the consoles around him come to life as Blurr puts on his helmet. The space around him hums. It's a strange noise. At once unsettling and calm.

Mech feels alive, he thinks. Then corrects himself. Blurr is mind-linked to this Mech. This Mech can technically be considered alive in a sense.

Blurr moves one of the monitors toward him and opens the map.

“Just mark the path here. Don't touch anything else. And hold on tight. I won't be going too fast anyway, but it'll be shaky.”

Swerve swallows nervously.

“Understood.”

After that, everything turns into motion. Watching the Mech work while being inside is mesmerizing.

Blurr doesn't say much, concentrating on the controls. His hands aren't shaking anymore, Swerve notices. Not even a little.

He steers the machine forward confidently and smoothly, dodging falling debris and avoiding the biggest pockets of fire without panic or hesitation.

He's also strictly following the path Swerve is laying out for him.

The air filtration system is doing well so far. Swerve can feel the smell of burning and the heat slowly creeping up, but it's bearable for now. For now.

They find a man on the nearside of the emergency exit.

Two more people a floor below. A small group stuck in the elevator.

Wheeljack's on the doorstep of his lab.

Blurr pulls them all out. Picks up the first group of people and carries them outside, goes back into the fiery furnace, finds more survivors, pulls them out, goes back, searches, rescues, goes back, searches, rescues.

The heat is coming up. Swerve can feel it. The plates around him are getting hot. The air smells like burnt wires.

Blurr’s Mech wasn't designed for this kind of thing.

His Mech was made to flash for the camera and accelerate to impossible speeds. To deceive and confuse the enemy. Its armor is thin and cools easily in the air, which usually helps it avoid overheating.

This also means that this Mech heats up very quickly as well.

Now, with the air around him feeling like a red-hot frying pan, Swerve regrets not saying anything back then. He regrets that he didn't make any changes to the blueprint.

More and more warnings pop up on the screens. The map stopped working correctly some time ago and Swerve is forced to give directions verbally.

He nervously grips the back of the pilot seat with one hand and, without noticing, Blurr's shoulder with the other.

Blurr carries two more people outside and hands them to the rescuers. Then turns back to the building again and. OH FUCK. Right in front of him, a huge crack begins to creep along the structure. This thing is on the verge of collapse. The roof is already starting to fold down in a very bad way.

Swerve clenches his grip fearfully and hears Blurr hiss through his teeth.

Suddenly, the cockpit opens. The fresh air of the street feels like a cold sledgehammer blow after the heat and stuffiness of the lower levels.

Swerve is about to ask something, but doesn't have time because Blurr uses Mech's hand to gently but quickly pull him outside and set him on the ground.

“You were going to mark another spot.”

Swerve nods hurriedly.

“Tailgate is still there.”

Blurr wrinkles his face.

Swerve corrects himself and clarifies

“Bright blue uniform. Short. Considering all the places we've been, I think he's in the staff quarters. It's...”

He chews his fingers, trying to remember numbers and directions without a map

“...two floors down, left, another floor down and straight ahead.”

As he speaks Blurr bends over the side of the open cockpit and spits...blood on the ground. His nose is bleeding, Swerve realizes. That's not good. It's a clear sign of a malfunctioning neural connection. Or damage to his respiratory system? Possibly both.

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his worried look

“Two down, left down then. Shit. Wait. Two down, left then down, straight ahead yeah?”

Swerve nods.

Blurr keeps repeating these directions like a mantra. A very fast and creepy mantra.

His gaze roams strangely and his breaths sound hoarse. His teeth and chin are covered in blood and his face is streaked with soot.

Swerve understands. He's about to do another go.

Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight.

Alone. He's going, and he's going to fry himself alive in there for a stranger he doesn't even remember.

Swerve doesn't have time to say anything. What's he gonna say? Stop? But he wants to save Tailgate? Go on, I believe in you? But it's certain death.

Swerve rarely has nothing to say, but this time he can't find the right words.

Blurr wipes the blood with his sleeve, wrinkles his nose, and storms off, heading back into the flaming mess the plant has become.

Not twenty seconds later, the roof collapses, spewing a huge cloud of smoke, ash, and fire into the sky.

Swerve wrinkles his shirt nervously in his hands.

The walls are still in place, right? If the roof is gone but the walls are still standing it's... it's. It's.

Damn it. He's trying to remember the blueprints. It means the ejector will work. It means Blurr can still get out through the top. That--

Blurr's not getting out. As the small, bright blue escape pod appears above the falling walls of the building, Swerve feels his brain stop. Remember the blueprints, remember the damn blueprints. The Mech is light, the design is compact, the space in the pod is for only one person.

In the capsule lies an unconscious Tailgate.

Swindle grasps the radio

“Blurr? BLURR!”

Swerve looks at the smoke and ash and feels numb. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He has to know. He doesn't...

He feels weird. The same kind of weird as when objects fly seemingly through him. Everything just stops being real.

The thought comes out of nowhere. You don't have to obey the rules. You can see more. Just look.

He's not sure how or why he's doing it.

No one around him is paying much attention to him. Everyone's busy with survivors and damage assessment or just stunned by the chaos.

And him? He disappears.

And then he appears at the bottom. Under the rubble.

All around him is ugly, molten and red-hot chaos, but he doesn't care anymore. He feels like whatever is happening is about to end and he just has to be in time. Time for him to find out.

Blurr's Mech lies crushed by the fallen roof. Its cockpit is open. A gaping hole where his chest was, the place where the escape pod had undocked.

Wall debris has pinned him in a crooked, grotesque pose.

Blurr is here. His legs are wedged between crumpled metal plates inside the cockpit, leaving him hanging upside down. His suit is charred. Half of his face is destroyed. It looks like a horrible bloody and burned mess. It's ugly and gruesome.

Blurr opens his only working eye and gives Swerve a cloudy look.

“I must be seeing things...”

Swerve shrugs in daze. He knows he shouldn't be here.

Blurr spits up a mouthful of blood

“I'm sorry I hurt you uh...”

“Swerve.”

“Yes. Swerve. It's hard for me to remember things unless they're...akgh...hell... not in my face all the time.”

Swerve moves closer and frowns

“You know, that explains but doesn't excuse you.”

Blurr closes his eye and coughs. That sounds really bad.

“No...I guess not.”

He huffs off the blood again. The burned half of his face is oozing with it. The blood runs down his forehead, collecting in a small puddle on the floor.

“It was better than letting everyone know what's wrong with me. I can't even begin to think about the amount of messes I'd be dragged into.”

Swerve notes that the fire seems to be getting closer.

This whole bit of dialog is so unnatural. Who even talks about that kind of stuff before they die. On the other hand. Well. Character development?

“So you think it's better to have everyone assume you're a jerk than that you got your head screwed on?”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“ You're a very specific kind of ghost.”

Swerve shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away

“I needed to know. Before you die.”

“That's ...akghhh...ha....it's good to know. Can you tell me something Swerve? As..agh...

As a last wish?”

Swerve shrugs again. He stares at the dripping blood. At the ugly, bubbling burns. At the burst vessels in his eye and the paths of blood from his bleeding nose. He looks at the broken and scorched and dying bloody mess.

He looks at Blurr.

And he thinks, until today, he didn't really love Blurr. Not with the posters and figurines. Not with the disdain and dislike.

He loved an image. And hated an image.

He reaches out and tries to touch Blurr's hand, but goes through it.

“I'm sorry. But we're both not really here. And I have to go.”

He can feel the cold metal around him, which is strange because he's standing in the middle of smoking and burning ruins

“But if it makes you happy, I guess you're my favorite character after all.”

Blurr doesn't answer. Swerve isn't sure he even heard him.

The feeling of metal around him grows sharper.

Someone shines a flashlight in his face.

Swerve blinks stupidly and tries to move away.

The unknown Autobot medic standing over him smiles happily and puts the flashlight away

“Welcome back. You've been in a coma Primus knows how long.”

The other medic to the side frowns

“You have zero tact.”

Swerve blinks his optics puzzled, raises his servo and for a while just stares at it like some movie character. All around him is an Autobot medbay. Metal walls. Metal instruments. And him. Metal.

Yes. Seems so. That's the way he's always been. That's right.

“Doc, you won't believe what kind of weird dream I had.”

___________

Swerve feels like he's going crazy.

He's standing in the middle of a hallway on one of the Autobot ships, and he's staring. shamelessly.

There's Prowl standing at the end of the hallway. And on his shoulder is...

“ JAZZ????”

Both bot and human turn around abruptly at his scream. And both look equally puzzled.

Jazz waves his hand

“Do I know you?”

Swerve is definitely going crazy. It's Jazz. The same one. From his...dream??? But he's real and tangible??? Sitting on Prowl's shoulder, talking and breathing and being seen by everyone not only Swerve????

“You're...real...?”

Jazz raises his eyebrows

“I am. Yes. Really Mech, you sound very familiar.

But I can tell you for a fact that I have not been friends with any Cybertronians before...”

This can't be, this can't be, this isn't....

It was a dream. The spawn of his TV series-addled mind. A hallucination. It wasn't real. It wasn't, was it?

But Jazz is here. And he disappeared from Earth. And now he's here.

And.

What the..

Swerve blurts out something like “sorry-sorry-see-you-later-now-I've got to go” and runs off.

“HEY DOC????”

The autobot, already familiar to him, flinches

“Primus...Swerve? Is something wrong?”

Swerve realizes that everything is about to either make sense or lose it completely.

“Tell me...is it possible to project a holoform...like...very far away?”

The Doctor tilts his head.

“Depends on power consumption. If you channel all the energy available in a frame, you can go very far. But that would send you into a...coma...if you...tried...Swerve, is there anything you'd like to tell me?”

“Doc do you know where Earth is?”

“Wha...no?”

Swerve chuckles nervously and bites his knuckles.

“I don't either. But I think I've been there...”

[archangeldyke-all]

isha being non verbal it's so important to me because i also go non verbal sometimes and i can spent days like that so i got a request about it 🙂‍↕️

so, despite trying to learn sign language, i got some kind of made up sing language that i use to communicate with my sister and my parents, it's not the most pratical but they understand me so it's fine

i was thinking about reader that sometimes goes non verbal, an then her and isha made up a secret sing language that only them can understand and sometimes sevika it's being grumpy or jinx more annoying than usual and they use it to talk shit about them, at first sevika and jinx don't notice it but at some point they start to get at the fact they can't understand those sign and be like "hey whats happening here"

or maybe just something about sev and a non verbal reader, anything it's fine 🤗

this is just so sweet omg okay

men and minors dni

there are a lot of adjustments you have to make in your life when jinx and isha come tumbling into it.

for one thing, any semblance of privacy you and sevika once had is out the window. neither isha or jinx find the need to knock, no matter how much you beg them to.

never in your life did you think you'd be making a category in your monthly budget for toys-- but here you are.

adjusting to jinx's picky eating habits (mostly her refusal to eat anything that isn't spicy enough to kill an infant) has been a challenge, but over time you've managed to find several dishes that get her veggies in her.

but, luckily, you never had to adjust to isha's muteness.

you go mute sometimes. sevika's known this about you since you first started dating, and when she moved you into her home a few years down the road, she started taking sign language classes, just so she could communicate with you on your mute days.

it's the nicest, sweetest thing anyone's ever done for you. and now it's paying off doubly, because you and sevika get to teach your girls the language.

jinx, surprisingly, is the most excited about it. she's always asking you or sevika to teach her how to sign something, and for the longest time you just think it's another thing the girl's freakishly good at.

but then, one night, you walk by the girls' room and catch them whispering under jinx's covers, a flashlight illuminating their silhouettes as jinx gently walks isha through the new signs she learnt from sevika earlier in the evening.

at the time, isha had rolled her eyes and gotten frustrated, her little fingers not able to keep up with sevika's; and she ran away from the dinner table to color in the living room.

and now, here's jinx, taking the time to gently, slowly work her little sister through the motions, encouraging her with soft cheers and claps. isha lets out an excited little giggle, and you hear a loud, wet smooch ring out from under the covers. "you're doin' it kid!"

your heart clenches, and you sprint back to your bedroom to tell sevika about the adorable sight you'd just walked in on.

over time, with you and sevika's teachings and jinx's special encouragement, isha starts to sign more and more.

it's great. you get a better understanding of isha's personality now that she can communicate with you, and you're always shocked by the little girl's humor. she makes you laugh so much you've been going to bed with sore abs almost every day.

best of all though, are the days when both you and isha are mute and signing all day. it usually ends with the two of you coming up with some secret codes-- mostly born out of mistakes, some born out of jokes about your speaking family.

it leads to the two of you having your own little language.

when sevika's acting particularly grumpy, or hungry, or protective-- you or isha will catch each other's eyes and quickly sign a single word. 'bear'

when jinx is locked in on an invention even isha can't understand, answering isha's questions with single word sentences, scratching her head and humming to herself as she scribbles on her notebooks; isha will come find you and sadly sign 'jinx went monkey mode.' you'll just giggle and find something to do with the girl to keep her entertained as jinx works.

sometimes, isha will flash you a special waggle of her fingers-- something only the two of you know. it's her request for attention, a way for her to ask for a hug or some cuddles. it always makes something special burst inside you, and you're quick to wrap the girl up in your arms.

when isha gets tired of signing, her mind tired from communicating all day, you'll check in on her and she'll give you a gentle little flick of her hand-- her way of saying she's done talking for the day. you've started using the little sign on your own, when talking gets too overwhelming, you'll use it to tell your family that you want to sign.

so, some of you and isha's private language leaks out into your whole family's use. but, most of it stays special between the two of you.

...until you get caught.

sevika's practically hanging off of you as you make dinner, nuzzling against your throat and taking deep breaths of your scent; when isha comes running into the kitchen, singing for help to tie her apron.

you chuckle, pulling her up onto the counter in front of you and wrapping the ties of her apron around her waist, tying them into a little bow and giving her a kiss.

what's wrong with big mama? she asks, reaching out to tug a strand of sevika's hair. you chuckle, and sevika grunts, stirring on your shoulder.

bear. you sign back.

isha giggles and sevika grunts against you.

"what'd you just call me?" she asks. you freeze, and isha bursts into nervous laughter.

"nothin'." you say. sevika nips your throat and you squeak. "ah! nothing!" you squeal.

"you called me a bear?" she asks.

isha bursts into breathy giggles, her feet kicking with excitement as sevika slowly pulls away to glare at you.

"no?" you squeak.

sevika grunts, and then she flings you in the air.

isha bursts into squeals and you curse, scrambling to hold onto sevika as she tosses you around.

"i'll show you a bear!" she growls, grinning at the sound of isha's laughs. you can't stop screaming and laughing, and when sevika finally sets you down, she turns to isha with a glower. "you think im a bear?"

isha's cackling and shaking her head no, squirming as sevika reaches forward to start tossing her around.

you watch with glee as you wife throws you screaming, squealing kid in the air, both of them laughing between sevika's attempts at bear noises.

jinx stumbles in with a confused look, until she sees the way isha's laughing. she ducks under your arm, leaning against you.

"what happened here?" she asks. you snort.

"sevika figured out some of our secret language."

jinx chuckles. "how you guys call her a bear?"

"you knew!?"

"you aren't subtle." she says with a giggle as isha starts to karate chop sevika's back and shoulders. "i know about you two callin' me a monkey too." she huffs.

you cackle and kiss her forehead. "that was isha's nickname."

"figures. little shit." jinx says fondly.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed

[xx-reverie-xx]

Hihi!! I just read your Sevika HCs and I absolutely love them!! I wanted to know if you could (please) write HCs for Sevika and Vi after an argument with their partner? :) Whether it’s an argument the reader started or they started can be completely up to you! Or you could even do both scenarios if you prefer! 💕

Thank you and I hope you have a nice day/evening 💖

🖤Sevika and Vi after an Argument🖤

men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni

🤎Sevika🤎

I don’t think arguments would be common in a relationship with Sevika.

When she locks into a serious relationship, she means serious. She covers all the important bases for a healthy relationship; communication, loyalty, respect, trust, and so much more.

Covering these bases, especially communication, helps to avoid frequent arguments.

It won’t completely cut out the occasional argument though.

When you two do argue, it’s almost always about bigger things. For example, her working so much and not taking much time for herself, or maybe her drinking and smoking.

Post-argument time usually has as “how can we avoid this in the future” moment where you guys have a heart to heart about whatever started the argument.

If you start an argument:

Be prepared to apologize first. And only apologize if you’re really sorry.

You should always finish what you start, after all.

Your apology may be met with an affectionate an eye roll and a huff.

She never stays mad at you for long.

Once you apologize she usually makes space for you wherever she’s sitting and wraps her arm around just to let you know it’s really okay.

If you’re just apologizing because you feel like you need to, don’t. She can see right through you if you’re bullshitting her.

If you’re stubborn like her, sometimes apologizing can genuinely be difficult. She gets that. Which is why her patience with you is a blessing.

Again, when you’re ready to apologize , she’s affectionate and accepts it.

If she starts an argument:

This woman is stubborn. For her to apologize, it just doesn’t feel right.

She’s only ever been truly sorry a few times in her life. In the Undercity, living a life like hers, she never had time to be sorry.

Being sorry gets you hurt. It gets you killed.

But…

It’s obviously different when it’s you. You aren’t a big bad wolf waiting around the corner. You’re her partner, her ride-or-die.

In the heat of the moment, what she said felt right. It felt like something you needed to hear.

The thought of you feeling hurt by something she said just eats her alive.

She comes to you first.

It isn’t anything crazy, usually just a simple, gruff “I’m sorry.”

She’s awkward and stiff about it, but completely genuine.

Asks what she can do to make it up to you, if anything.

❤️Vi❤️

Violet runs hot. She isn’t a loose cannon but someday’s it can be hard trying to keep all of her emotions under wraps.

This has definitely lead to arguments over petty things like dishes in the sink or eating the last of her favorite snack.

It’s also lead to arguments about very serious things. Her pit fighting, drinking, and her occasional impulsivity.

Arguments always hit her hard, even the petty ones. No matter how old she gets, arguments always make her feel like a little kid, just waiting for the ball to drop. The ball being losing you.

That feeling of dread, like this argument could be the last, if that makes sense.

Physical touch is usually present in the make up process after an argument. It helps ground her.

The good news is, the two of you always make up very quickly.

If you start an argument:

If the argument is a petty spat about dishes or snacks, she still apologizes first, albeit rather begrudgingly.

This links back to her feeling like this argument could be the last. What if she never hears “You promised you’d take out the trash this week” ever again?

You, however, shut that down. “It’s my fault, I should be the one apologizing.” You tell her.

These arguments are extremely easy to come back from because you two are always on the same level. Two halves to make a whole, equals

There isn’t a point in staying hung up on petty nonsense for long.

If you start a big argument, you apologize first.

She distances herself and you have to go to her.

You’ll usually find her someplace where she shouldn’t be, like a bar. Or, you might find her someplace safe, like with Loris or another friend she feels comfortable around.

Not only should you apologize, but it would also be a good chance to thoroughly explain why you’re upset or might think something is a bad idea.

Once you do that, she’ll open her arms up to you and usually things can be resolved somewhat easily after that.

If she starts an argument:

Again, she apologizes first.

If she starts an argument, big or small, the dread of possibly losing you over this hits her like bricks.

For smaller arguments, she approaches you casually. If you let her, she’ll wrap her arms around you. An apology hug, if you will.

Says, “I’m sorry, baby,” in the softest voice she can muster.

These smaller arguments are always easier to come back from just because she’s so sweet. How can you ever stay upset when she’s such a sweetie?

Big arguments are something else though.

After she’s said whatever it is that she’s said, the weight of it all is suffocating.

If she said something really stupid and hurtful in the heat of the moment, she might need some space for a bit. Things like that take her back to that day.

But she’ll come to you when she’s ready.

May or may not have a little gift for you for extra measure. Usually it’s something simple like your favorite candy bar.

She tells you she’s sorry and explains why she got so worked up. Usually this leads to a steady and warm embrace and you let her know it’s okay.

hello!!! thank you for the request ♥️ please let me know if you enjoyed it or not. i had so much fun writing these. i kind of got carried away with vi’s headcanons 🙈. . i was purposefully vague about what started the argument so you can sort of imagine your own scenario for why the argument started!🎠

ask box is open for multiple fandoms and nearly every arcane character! check my pinned for rules, fandoms, and characters. i write headcanons, reactions, drabbles, and more!

[rue-isabelle]

Aphrodite of Formula 1, Part 3

The paddock was no longer just a workplace—it was a battlefield of emotions. Yn’s calm demeanor and kindhearted nature had captured the hearts of every man on the grid, single or taken. She had no idea about the storm of feelings she left in her wake, but the tension between the drivers was palpable.

And with the bombshell news that Lewis would be leaving Mercedes for Ferrari, the frenzy only escalated.

Lewis

Lewis waited for Yn outside the hospitality area, leaning casually against the wall. When she appeared, juggling her tablet and several papers, he stepped forward, his warm smile catching her attention.

“Yn,” he said smoothly, “do you have a minute?”

“For you? Always,” she replied with a smile.

He guided her to a quieter corner, his hand resting gently on the small of her back. “Listen, I’ve got something important to talk about. You’ve heard the news, right?”

She nodded. “You’re going to Ferrari. Congratulations, Lewis. They’re lucky to have you.”

“They’d be even luckier if you came with me,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

Yn blinked, stunned. “Me? At Ferrari?”

He smiled, placing both hands gently on her waist, his thumbs brushing lightly against her sides. “You’re the best at what you do. And I’d feel a whole lot better knowing I had you on my team.”

“Lewis, I—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Think about it.” His hands squeezed her waist tighter before letting go.

Before she could reply, he stepped back, his gaze intense. “No pressure,” he added, though his expression suggested otherwise.

Yn’s heart raced as she watched him walk away, his confidence leaving her breathless.

Lando

Lando couldn’t get through a single day without seeing Yn. Her presence had become a necessity, a fix he craved. But as her job kept her moving constantly, he needed to ensure they “coincidentally” crossed paths.

That’s where the AirTags came in.

Yn had no idea that nearly every item she owned—a handbag, a water bottle, even her laptop case—had a discreet tracker hidden inside, courtesy of Lando.

“Yn!” Lando exclaimed, rounding a corner with perfect timing as she exited a meeting. “I didn’t expect to see you here!”

She laughed. “Hi, Lando. What a surprise.”

“It’s fate,” he said, grinning.

He casually walked with her, keeping the conversation light, but his heart raced as he basked in her attention.

At night, Lando’s obsession took on a different form. In his bedroom, one wall was entirely dedicated to her. Photos of Yn smiling, laughing, working—captured both candidly and from afar—covered every inch.

One evening, his trainer stopped by unexpectedly.

“Lando,” he began, trailing off when he noticed the wall. “Mate, what the hell is this?”

Lando turned, unfazed. “Art,” he replied simply, his eyes fixed on one particular photo of Yn.

Franco

Franco had a different tactic: he showered Yn with affection and introduced her to the richness of his culture. He found her during lunch and waved her over to his table, where he’d set up a spread of traditional Argentine dishes.

“What’s all this?” Yn asked, her eyes lighting up.

“This,” Franco said with a charming smile, “is a little piece of Argentina. Sit, sit.”

She sat, and Franco immediately began serving her, explaining each dish with pride. “This is empanada criolla, and this—ah, careful, it’s spicy—is chimichurri. You have to try it with this.”

He picked up a small piece of empanada and held it to her lips. “Here, taste.”

Yn hesitated but opened her mouth, allowing him to feed her.

“How is it?” he asked, his eyes locked on hers.

“Delicious,” she admitted, smiling.

Franco leaned closer, his lips kissing the corner of her lips. “You had some sauce here,” he murmured before kissing her again on the cheek, lingering there for a moment.

Yn’s cheeks turned pink. “Franco…”

“I’ll make you fall in love with Argentina,” he promised, his voice low. “And maybe… me too.”

Fernando

Fernando prided himself on being Yn’s rock. While the other drivers acted like lovesick teenagers, he was her guiding figure, the one she turned to for advice.

One evening, Yn found him in his motorhome, reviewing strategy notes.

“Fernando, do you have a minute?” she asked, poking her head in.

“For you? Always,” he replied, motioning for her to sit.

She explained her dilemma about a work decision, her voice tinged with uncertainty. Fernando listened intently, his hand resting on her knee to ground her.

“Yn,” he said softly, “you’re overthinking. Trust your instincts. They’ve never failed you.”

She nodded, her tension easing under his steady gaze.

As she stood to leave, Fernando reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re too good for this chaos,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Those boys don’t deserve you.”

Yn laughed lightly. “You’re too protective.”

“Someone has to be,” he replied, his hand lingering on her shoulder as he guided her out.

---

The paddock had become a minefield of stolen glances, jealous stares, and escalating tensions. Each driver had his own way of vying for Yn’s attention, but none could truly claim her heart—not yet, anyway.

Yn, blissfully unaware of the storm she had created, continued her work with a smile, unknowingly leaving a trail of broken hearts and unspoken confessions in her wake.

The question wasn’t if she’d notice—it was when. And when she did, the paddock would never be the same.

Part 1. Part 2

[dreamsteddie]

Companion piece to my Stobin childhood friends au post because try as I might to resist it, the Steddie brain rot will take over.

Robin and Steve are thick as thieves from that first day of preschool. Their matching friendship bracelets don't fit anymore and have found homes in their "secret friendship treasure chest" which is a shoe box covered in construction paper decorations that lives under Robin's bed so Steve's parents don't throw away any of his "trash" again. They've started a tradition of making a new one for each other at the start of every year so everyone remembers they're best friends, though.

Halfway through first grade (Robin got to start school a year early like the Buckleys hoped) things are going great for Robin. She gets to bring books home from the library and their teacher complimented her drawing of a robin and she helped Steve pass his spelling test last week, so as far as she's concerned this is the best year ever.

Right up until Eddie Munson transfers to their school.

At first, Robin doesn't know that Eddie will be her arch-nemesis. When he's introduced to the class, all she really thinks about him is that he looks a little funny but seems nice. He's got really big eyes and he's taller than most of the other kids with long, gangly limbs. His hair is shaved down to his head, but there are other boys in class who are the same. He gets placed at the table group to the left of them in the chair closest to Steve's.

She very quickly forgets about him as the day continues as normal. Robin thinks math block is boring, she'd much rather read her books or play with Steve at recess but her parents said knowing your shapes is important, so she pays extra special attention. That's why she doesn't catch the little wave Steve, ever the social butterfly, gives to the boy across the way or the way Eddie's eyes go even bigger and a soft blush steals across his cheeks.

What she does notice is when Eddie comes up to them in the last few precious minutes of recess slightly sweaty and out of breath holding a little white daisy.

"Hi! I'm Eddie, I'm new!" he says, shouting really, looking directly at Steve.

"Oh, hi Eddie! I'm Steve, this is my bestest friend, Robin." Steve replies.

"Like the bird?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah! They're orange."

"And I hate orange!" Robin buts in, not willing to be left out of the conversation

"Yeah, it's really sad. They should be blue, that's Robin's favorite color." Steve says, real disappointment creeping into his voice. "Who's that for?" he asks, pointing to the forgotten daisy.

"Oh! It's for you! I was out all recess looking for the best one in the field. They kind of match your shirt!' Eddie says proudly, referencing Steve's polo with the yellow body and white sleeves. It's one of his favorites.

"Really? That's so nice, thank you!" Steve exclaims as he takes the little flower into his hands.

Robin's mom says that sometimes when you want to be someone's friend, it's good to start by giving them something nice. Robin's mom says that she should try and make more friends, maybe some girls instead of just Steve, but when Robin tries to talk to the other girls in class, she gets nervous and clams up. She thinks she might be allergic to them. Plus, why would she need more friends when she has Steve, who is worth at least three normal friends.

Steve gets along with everyone, he lends people erasers and pencils and shares his blocks with the other kids when he's allowed to bring them out of his cubby, but no one is his best friend like Robin is.

No one has ever given Steve flowers before, though. That feels like an extra special kind of gift that someone would give if they wanted to be really good friends, and Robin doesn't want that. Steve is her best friend, he doesn't need another one.

"Steve, we gotta go get in line before all the other kids! We don't want to be last!" she blurts out, grabbing Steve by the hand and dragging him across the asphalt to where the teachers are getting ready to call everyone to get in line before Eddie can catch up.

Once they've got their places, she looks back at Steve behind her to see he's turned around. She peaks her head around him and sees him smiling wide at an equally smiley Eddie who's about 5 kids behind them, each of them waving happily at each other.

Oh yeah, Robin is going to have to keep an eye on him.

[irana5711]

would u write anything for homicipher’s mc (Adami) x gn reader…IM STARVING!!! I leave it up to ur imagination

HELL YEAHHHHHHHHH would you believe me if I said I did it already :3 a bit slow burn-ish, I cannot write without a fuck ton of context but enjoy mc saving u from Mr. Stitch bwhwwhhewhheqhhehwehwhehwheb I love her sm

You didn't know how you ended up there or when it happened. It just did. It took you a while to comprehend where exactly you had been transported. Hoping to meet someone else in this worn down place, you aimlessly wandered through the empty rooms and hallways. Coincidentally, you saw another man - tall, with a red jacket and furry hood. He rounded a corner and out of your sight, which prompted you to run after him without thinking of the consequences. As he passed by a door, it slammed open, and a pale hand dragged him in, the blood of the innocent man instantly splattering all over the floor and the surrounding surfaces. You cover your mouth and let out a small squeak before seeking shelter.

Thankfully, you found a pair of scissors lying around. That should come in handy! Shivering, cold, and distraught, you went slower this time, looking for human activity and someone worthy of your trust. A loud rumble echoed throughout the entire place, making tears well up in your eyes from the powerful scare. Was this your end? The hallway you were exploring split into two, and you ran back into an adjacent room. It seemed cleaner than the others, the wallpaper still mostly intact, a bed and a dusty table. On the bed sat a girl with short, white hair and blood stains in her raincoat. Oh, God. This is it. You're gonna die just like that man. You could just hope it was painless.

The figure croaked out something that you couldn't understand. It seemed to try two languages before finally deciding on just one. It pointed at you, repeating a word multiple times before the message was received by your disheveled mind: "You." She was saying "You." Then, she pointed to herself. "Me." Back then, you didn't know that "You" and "Me" would become so important later on.

You sat down on the floor, in front of her, looking up at the stained raincoat and the dirty crowbar that lay on the bed next to her hip.

"Me? You?" you said, moving your hands to check if you understood well. Her nod confirms your suspicions. Then, she points to different objects in the room and demonstrates how the language works. It felt like a breath of fresh air, having someone talk to you like an equal, in a place where you had been so violently proven that your life meant nothing. The bond had already started forming.

It only took a few hours for you to learn that primitive way of communication, and you started teaching her bits and pieces of your human language while she did the same for you. Using this, she introduced herself: Adami. Such a beautiful name... It had an exquisite ring, compared to the rough sounds of the ghostly people.

Soon, it became all about "You" and "Me." At first, you'd brush against her for comfort when a new entity approached. Then, slowly, she'd be the one to hold your hands when you were scared or when Mr. Gap appeared out of nowhere. "You, me, go together," "you, me, stay together" or "you, me, rest together."" It was sweet, having someone protect you in such a world. You didn't have the guts to question your relationship. Perhaps you were her comfort, maybe she saw in you what she once was. You were her anchor when she lost her temper, and she was your shield when a threat was nearby.

Nothing was clear to you. Friends did all of this, too, right? You were walking hand in hand, giggling at a joke Adami made when Mr. Stitch blocked your path.

"Me bored. Want fun?"

"No." she cuts him off furiously, shoving past him.

"Want fun! Want fun together them!"

The deranged ghost grips your arm, pulling you towards him as Adami holds onto your fingers.

"Them will not! You should leave!"

However silly this game of tug-o-war looked to an outsider, you were beyond frightened. Mr. Stitch was obviously not into the fun a normal person would resort to on a bad day. He was into the kind of fun that serial killers sought when sending body parts to the police. It was clear Adami couldn't help you - she'd hurt you in the process. Mr. Stitch ripped you from her arms, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of meat and ran off to God knows where. He hid you in the Cloth Monster's room, wrapping you in the long curtains that decorated it. Giggling, he gripped your throat and slithered the soft material around it, torturing you as he loosened and tightened it. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you gasped for air when the door slammed open.

Coughing when your lungs could finally expand again, your vision was still blurred when Mr. Stitch transformed into a jumbled up mass of meat right before you. A trembling hand ripped off the fabric and you felt the familiar presence of Adami engulfing you in a hug.

"Me scared..."

Your heart throbbed wildly as you returned the tender embrace, removing her hood to get a closer look at her features. No matter how much she transformed, her eyes were always full of warmth when she gazed at you.

"Love... You and me together... Me love you..." she whispers, her free hand tilting your face up. Adami gets closer, giving you the choice to accept or reject her. You instantly press your lips together, your bodies melting into each other as you let your feelings overflow, your only regret being that you hadn't seen it sooner.

It didn't take long for the other residents to pick up on what was going on between the two of you. Moreover, Adami didn't even look at the cold, metallic doors of the elevator with the same curiosity as she did when she first descended into the other world. To her, it now meant separation, as you two would return to your respective places on Earth. What good was the freedom of humanity, when there was nothing left of her without you? At first, you thought she might want to go back to her old life, yet she always held your hand tighter. "You, me... together here."

[bg3daydream]

Breakfast (Lucanis x Rook fanfiction)

Lucanis x Female Rook one-shot.

Summary: Lucanis makes breakfast for Rook after they spend the nigth together once she's back from the Fade-prison, relieved to have her back but still worried about her. Short (2285 words) and sweet.

Lucanis woke up feeling rested for the first time in…he didn’t even know how long. That he'd been sleeping in Rook’s arms sure was the reason for it.

They were scrunched together on the couch in Rook’s room, with barely room to move, but for Lucanis it was perfect, with his head pillowed on Rook’s chest and her arms around him. Even Spite seemed to have calmed down, he hadn’t annoyed him once. His only regret was not having slept like that before that night, the distance he’d made himself keep for reasons that seemed important once but not anymore.

He was all too aware of how close he’d been to losing Rook. Since she’d been trapped in the Fade, Lucanis had been consumed not only by fear but also by guilt and regret. He’d let it happen, he hadn’t been quick enough, smart enough, and Rook had been taken from him. She had needed him and he had failed again.

He’d been searching non-stop for a way to get her back, even Spite had been agitated, driving him crazy, and he knew he had to be grateful for the team that they’d found a way to get Rook back.

After that, he’d known there was no way he’d let his fears and insecurities keep him from being truly Rook’s any longer. He’d kill the gods, the blight itself, anything that threatened Rook’s again, no matter what, he wouldn't fail her again, and he wouldn’t deny himself the comfort of her arms any longer.

Mindful not to wake her, Lucanis pulled back from Rook’s chest. She was still fast asleep, and Lucanis wondered if she’d slept at all those weeks she’d been trapped in the Fade, if she’d even needed it. 

She didn’t seem more tired than usual, neither did she seem hurt, but Rook hadn’t really elaborated on what had happened to her, and Lucanis hadn’t pushed her to tell him. She seemed more worried about what’d been happening while she was gone and how to fix it, and Lucanis knew it was important, but he wished Rook looked out for herself more. If she didn’t, then he’d be the one to watch over her and care for her.

Lucanis brushed his knuckles ever so softly over Rook’s cheek. He didn’t feel there was much he could offer her, besides his knives and his skills as an assassin, in which he felt he’d been failing abysmally.

It seemed Rook was going to sleep longer, and so, Lucanis decided to get up and get her breakfast. Feeding her was, at least, one thing he could do for Rook without failing her.

He carefully covered Rook with a blanket, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and got dressed quickly.

Walking out of the room and down the stairs, Lucanis found Emmrich already awake, sitting down on the armchair next to the coffee table, doing research, with a cup of steaming tea in front of him, while Manfred hovered near. Emmrich looked up from his papers to give Lucanis a tired smile.

“Good morning. How is she?” He asked as he glanced upstairs.

Lucanis sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. Not bad I think, but she hasn’t told me much of what happened to her. She wants to focus on what we have to do now.”

“Understandable so,” Emmrich conceded. “I know everything we lost, everyone…and everything we have to fight now. But we got Rook back, enjoy that.”

“I plan to. Thank you, Emmrich.” Lucanis was aware of how, without the Fade expertise of Emmrich, he probably couldn’t have gotten Rock back to him.

Emmrich nodded graciously and went back to his papers.

“Manfred,” Lucanis addressed the skeleton, who hissed a yes. “If you see Rook getting up, you come running to find me before she can”

“Yes!”

Once in the kitchen, Lucanis tried to decide on what to do for breakfast. He didn’t want it to be something overly complicated or that would take too long, afraid that Rook might wake up before he was finished and find herself alone.

Finally, he settled for orlesian pancakes. 

The kitchen felt cold and abandoned. Lucanis had been in no mood for cooking during the last couple of weeks, his mind was desperately looking for ways to bring Rook back, when he was not mourning their potential loss and blaming himself, and having to deal with Spite’s own commentary and franticness.

Trying to ignore the nagging thoughts of their missing friends, everything that had gone wrong and could get worse soon, and the still lingering fear of losing Rook, Lucanis focused on making breakfast and on the thought of a sleeping Rook, back to him.

He cooked swiftly, and once everything was ready, he placed several servings on a trail and walked out of the kitchen and back to the main building.

Emmrich was still in the armchair, studying the papers, while Manfred stood as a lookout on the staircase, watching the door of Rook’s room. When he saw Lucanis, he hissed and did a thumb-up, and Lucanis couldn’t help his smile.

“Thank you, Manfred,” Lucanis said while placing a cup of coffee and a plate of pancakes on the table in front of Emmrich.

“Oh, thank you Lucanis,” Emmrich smiled at him over his papers. “This was most kind.”

Lucanis shrugged and made his way back to Rook’s room. She was still asleep. Lucanis placed the tray with the pancakes and coffee on the table and  knelt down next to the couch, looking at Rook. He reached to trail his fingers down her cheek, ever so softly.

“Doesn’t. Wake,” Spite said, unhelpful.

“She needs rest,” Lucanis muttered, trying not to let Spite’s agitation get to him.

“She. Is not. Waking up,” Spite insisted.

Lucanis never thought the demon could care for anyone, but there they were. Still, he didn’t need Spite putting more fears inside his mind and going frantic again, it wouldn’t help anyone.

“Rook’s tired, she’ll wake up when she’s rested enough,” he tried again, although Lucanis wasn’t very sure if he was convincing himself or the demon. “Go play with Manfred.”

“Pff.” Spite brisked. “He. Thinks. He Is. A mage. Now,” the demon pretty much ranted. “He. Thinks. He. Is. Better.”

“I doubt it,” Lucanis answered, but truly, what did he know…he just hoped Manfred didn’t decide to try and teach Spite magic now. “Go with Manfred or shut it and let Rook sleep.”

Spite didn’t say anything else, but Lucanis could feel his unhappiness.

He watched Rook’s face, caressing her cheek ever so gently again, trying not to entertain Spite’s thoughts of her not waking. There was no reason for that, she was just tired, even if she was in the Fade in her sleep, she was not trapped there any longer, it was just normal dreaming…right?

Lucanis’ heart had begun beating faster, Spite’s unease was growing too, and so he tried to stop that train of thought. Rook was back, she was alright, she was just resting…but if she didn’t wake up by herself soon, he’d wake her. 

Moving even closer, Lucanis leaned over Rook, still kneeling on the floor, until he could rest his head over her chest. He closed his eyes, listening to her heartbeat, feeling her chest rising and falling as she breathed, and he tried not to let worry and overthinking take hold of his mind.

Eventually, Lucanis felt the change in her breathing as she began to wake up, and relief washed over him. He pushed back to look at her as Rook’s eyes opened, and she gave him a drowsy smile that made something in his stomach flutter and twirl. She was there, she was awake, she was fine…and she was smiling at him, her sleep-lidded eyes looking at him so lovingly that it was hard to believe she was looking at him.

“Hey….” Rook reached to cup his face and Lucanis leaned into her touch. Her smile turned into a frown when she noticed he was on the floor. “Did I kick you off the couch? Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No, you didn’t,” Lucanis rushed to explain. “I was up already. I made you breakfast.”

There it was again, that soft smile and that love in her eyes, making Lucanis’ heart skip a beat. “Of course you did.” 

Rook’s voice was quiet, content, while her hand cupping his face caressed his cheek, and Lucanis turned his head to kiss her palm. Rook’s smile grew wider at that and she leaned to press a soft kiss to his lips. It was gentle, chaste, yet it made Lucanis feel like he might melt. 

Rook pulled back, reaching to take her shirt that somehow had ended up hanging from the back of the couch, and she put it on. Then, she reached as if to take her cup of coffee, but Lucanis was already handing it to her.

“Thanks,” she smiled again and reached to take his hand. “Come here.”

Lookanis got up from the floor and sat down on the couch next to Rook. Ignoring his own cup of coffee, he looked at her as she contently sipped hers while she looked at the fishes swimming in that odd aquarium. Lucanis had felt uneasy about that part of Rook’s room before, it reminded him of the Ossuary, but it didn’t anymore, not with Rook there next to him.

Rook caught him staring at her and gave him a small smile, leaning to kiss the side of his head. “I’m fine,” she reassured him. 

Lucanis wasn’t sure if it was true, but he didn’t want to push her. She’d be fine, though, he’d make sure of it.

Rook leaned to place the cup back on the tray and cut a piece of the pancakes, bringing it to her mouth. She closed her eyes with a delighted hum and Lucanis felt something in his belly stir at it.

“This is so good,” she said as she took another bite.

“I’m glad.” Lucanis was pretty confident in his cooking skills, more than in his assassin skills right now, but it was nice to have confirmation that Rook was enjoying her breakfast.

Rook looked at him over her shoulder. “Did you have something besides coffee?” she didn’t let him answer. “Of course you didn’t.”

She cut the rest of the pancakes in small, bite-size pieces, and leaned back on the sofa again, taking plate and fork with her. “Here.” She reached the fork with one of the pancake pieces towards Lucanis.

“It’s your breakfast.”

“It’s enough for us both and more…come on,” Rook insisted and Lucanis gave in, taking the bite that she was offering.

Lucanis wondered if it should have felt ridiculous, letting someone feed him pancakes, but it didn’t, he just felt content, loved even. He wondered when was the last time he’d felt like that, or if he’d even felt like that at all before.

He let Rook feed him another couple of bites before nudging her and reminding her to eat herself, and so she dug into the pancakes with appetite. “Seriously, Lucanis, these are so good,” she said between bites and he couldn’t stop how pleased it made him feel.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been hungry, maybe even starving. How hadn’t he thought of feeding her sooner, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep last night without making sure she was fed, no matter how warm and comfortable her arms had felt.

“Did you eat anything while you were…away?” Lucanis found himself asking.

He wasn’t sure how the Fade worked, how she could have survived those weeks without eating anything, if maybe she didn’t need it while in the Fade…

Rook shook her head and leaned over to place the plate of pancakes, with barely anything left, on the table, taking the cup of coffee instead and leaning back on the couch again with a sigh.

“I know it was weeks for you here but…for me…I don’t know,” she trailed off. “I don’t know how it works, but it felt…I don’t even know…eternal but static at the same time…” Rook shuddered and Lucanis leaned to place an arm around her, regretting to have asked. “I don’t want to think about it now.”

“Of course,” he whispered, pulling her close.

His wings popped out without him meaning to, wrapping around them. Lucanis’d be embarrassed about his lack of control of the wings sometimes, if it weren’t because Rook seemed to like them. He had to wonder if Taash was right when they told him he should get out the wings when he was with Rook, that she’d like it.

“Good morning, Spite,” Rook said, smiling.

“Rook,” the demon greeted, but Lucanis was thankful he didn’t try to control him, seeming content just being acknowledged.

Rook took another sip of the coffee and then offered the cup to Lucanis. He was about to refuse, that was her coffee, he had a cup for himself, but she was looking at him with that soft smile, those caring, loving eyes, in a way that made him feel as if his heart was growing in size, and he couldn’t refuse her, taking a sip of the coffee before giving her the cup back.

Rook leaned against him with a content sigh and Lucanis kissed the side of her head. 

There were gods to kill, people to help, a world to save, friends to avenge, they had to get at it soon but perhaps, perhaps it all could wait just a bit longer.

Perhaps they could stay like that, Lucanis’ arm and wings enveloping Rook, basking in each other, for a little bit, if only until they finished their coffee.

*

NA:

Both me and my Rook have fallen in love with this gentle, caring assassin and we want to hold him and protect him, but sometimes Rook needs to be taken care of too.

I think I want to write more for them.

If you liked the fic, please let me know in a comment, and as always, reblogs are more than welcome.

Excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

[st4rpiece]

NSFW

pairings: office worker! nanami x hyper-femme coworker! reader summary: nanami doesn't like sharing your attention warnings: no use of y/n, office/public sex, fingering, oral (f! receiving), jealous & possessive nanami, airhead reader, (not proofread)

nanami kento was the epitome of discipline and order. his life was a meticulously crafted routine, each minute accounted for, and each task executed precisely. from the moment he woke up at 5:30 am sharp to the time he retired to bed at 10:00 pm, every aspect of his day was planned to perfection. he thrived on structure and predictability, finding solace in the monotony of his well-organized life.

that was until you entered the picture.

you were a whirlwind of pastel colors (mainly shades of pink) and rhinestones, a hyper-feminine force that indirectly disrupted the rigid order of his world. your desk was a chaotic explosion of cute stationery, scented candles, and an impressive collection of lip glosses. you were always seen humming some catchy pop tune under your breath or mindlessly shopping during work hours.

as the days went by, you began directly disrupting his carefully maintained routine. you’d stop by his desk to chat about the latest episode of your favorite reality show or to show off your new nail art. at first, nanami found it incredibly annoying. he had work to do and deadlines to meet, and your constant interruptions were a distraction he didn’t need. but there was something about your infectious energy that he couldn’t help but be drawn to.

one particularly hectic afternoon, you appeared at his desk with a perplexed expression. “ken, can you help me with this spreadsheet? i think i messed it up,” you said, holding up your laptop. he sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, but he couldn’t deny the small thrill he felt at the prospect of spending time with you.

as he walked you through the steps to fix the spreadsheet, he began to notice little things. like how good your vanilla & coconut perfume smelt or how kissable your glossy lips looked as you pouted in concentration.

when you finally got the hang of it, you beamed up at him, your eyes sparkling with gratitude. “thank you, ken! you’re honestly the best!” you exclaimed, leaving him with an unfamiliar warmth in his chest.

from that day on, you made it a point to seek nanami out whenever you needed help. whether it was a technical issue or just someone to listen to your latest shopping haul, nanami became your go-to person. he tried to maintain his stern, no-nonsense demeanor, but he couldn’t deny the way his heart raced whenever you were near.

he was printing out a report when you breezed into the office, a vision in pink. you wore a white dress shirt, buttoned halfway up, offering a peek at the baby pink lace bra underneath. it was tucked into your mini tweed skirt that barely covered your ass. the look was completed with white thigh-high socks that clung onto you like a second skin and a pair of shiny white heels.

your outfit effortlessly drawing attention. though it was more suited for a garden party than a corporate environment. like usual, you greeted everyone with a cheerful “good morning!” that was met with a chorus of subdued replies.

nanami barely looked up from his copies as you always greeted him separately no matter where he was. always with a random treat that he just “had to try.” so, like usual, he waited for you to make your way to him, but you never came. instead, he found you by your desk chatting animatedly with another male coworker.

a pang of jealousy surged through him, twisting his usually composed demeanor. he knew he had no right to be jealous, but the sight of you talking to another man had stirred a primal instinct within him.

“morning," he said, his voice steady but firm as he walked over, placing himself in between you and the guy. "hope i’m not interrupting anything important."

“not at all,” you replied, flashing him a bright smile, unaware of the subtle change in the atmosphere.

“great, could i see you in my office?"

he didn’t bother waiting for a reply, confident that you would follow, and the distinct click of your heels echoing behind proved him right.

nanami's body was a mere few inches away as you closed the door behind you. his warmth radiating toward you, made you all too aware of the lack of physical space between you. his eyes, usually so calm and composed, now danced with a dominant look that was both thrilling and slightly intimidating.

“morning ken" you greeted like usual, trying to keep your voice even as your heart pounded. his proximity was intoxicating.

“morning sweetheart”

"you look lovely," his voice uncharacteristically playful as his fingers rubbed against the hem of your skirt, a gesture that was both comforting and possessive.

“but it seems i wasn't the first to tell you that this morning."

your cheeks flushed, warmth spreading through your body as you looked away, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"only matters when you say it," you said sweetly, still avoiding eye contact, focusing on the way his fingers brushed your leg.

“is that so?”

his voice was low and gruff, hinting at the emotions he was trying to keep in check. his fingers still lingering on the fabric of your skirt as the scent of his cologne filled the space, a tantalizing mix of musk and something faintly sweet.

you nodded, feeling his hand move from the hem of your skirt to your chin, gently turning your face back to meet his gaze. the room felt smaller, the air thick with unspoken tension as your eyes locked onto his. you could see the hunger in his gaze, a mirror of your own.

"may i?" he asks, his voice gruff with need. his hand remained on your chin, his thumb tracing the outline of your bottom lip. his touch was featherlight, but the intention was clear.

you nod, unable to form words as your heart races. feeling a spark of desire ignite within you as you leaned into his touch.

“i need words, sweetheart,” he said, flexing his thigh. adding to the pressure against your cunt.

“what is it that you want?"

you gulped, eyes wide. the proximity was overwhelming, the warmth of his body pressing against you, his breath hot on your face. "i...i need you," you murmured, the words barely escaping your lips. "please."

with a groan, he claimed your mouth in a kiss that was as fierce as it was tender. his hand moving from your face to the small of your back, pulling you in tighter before lifting you off the floor. your hands gripping onto his shoulders, as he made his way to his desk.

the kiss was a declaration of need, of desperation, of a hunger that had been building for months. his tongue slid against yours, tasting and exploring as if he could never get enough. your body responding instinctively to the demand. the world outside his office door was forgotten as you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

he places you down on the desk, your legs draping over the edge. the wood was cold against your skin, a stark contrast to the fire that had been ignited within you. his eyes raked over your body; the sight of you, flushed and eager, only fueled his hunger.

“ken,” you whined at the sudden absence of his warmth. your lips swollen from the kiss, eyes hazed with desire as you watched him drop to his knees. his hands slid up the inside of your thighs, pushing your skirt higher as he pulled your legs further apart. the scent of his cologne filled the room, mixing with the faint scent of your arousal.

he kissed the soft skin of your inner thigh, his eyes locked on yours, watching your every reaction. his mouth moved closer to your panties, his breath ghosting over the damp fabric, making you shiver. with a gentle tug, he pulled the lacy barrier aside, revealing your glistening pussy. his eyes darkened, pupils dilated, as he took in the sight of you, wet and ready for him.

"so fucking wet for me," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal before leaning in to taste you. his tongue slid along your folds, teasing and exploring, as he held your gaze.

you gripped the edge of the desk, biting your lip to keep from crying out. the sensation was exquisite, a sweet agony that made your toes curl. his hands held you open, thumbs rubbing lazy circles around your clit, as he devoured you with a hunger that was both thrilling and terrifying.

"a-ah yes," you breathed, unable to form coherent sentences as his tongue delved deeper, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll back in your head.

"please, m-more," you begged, your hips bucking against his mouth. he chuckled against your skin, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through you, before obliging, his tongue curling and flicking, driving you closer to the edge.

“patience, baby,” he murmured against your sensitive flesh, the vibration sending another shockwave of pleasure through your body.

he knew exactly how to tease and taunt you, pushing you to the brink of insanity before giving you what you craved.

without warning, he slid a finger inside you, the sudden intrusion making you gasp. the digit was warm and thick, filling you in a way that made your legs shake. he stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the new sensation before adding a second finger.

curling them slightly as he moved in slow, deliberate strokes, mimicking the rhythm of his tongue. the combination of his tongue on your clit and his fingers inside you was almost too much, but he wasn't about to let you cum just yet.

instead, he added a third finger, stretching you even further. the sight of his digits disappearing into your slick warmth was almost too much for him to handle, his own cock straining against the fabric of his pants. he could feel the pressure building, the tension coiling in his stomach, but he remained focused on your pleasure.

he continued his relentless assault, loving the way your muscles tightened around him. watching the way your body reacted to his touch, memorizing every twitch and whimper. with the sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you filling the room. mixing with your muffled gasps and the wet smack of his lips against your skin.

"k-kenny," you panted, your voice shaking with need. you were so close, so incredibly close.

he noticed the desperation in your voice and felt a surge of satisfaction. he knew he had you right where he wanted you—on the precipice, begging for release. he picked up the pace, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers curling in a steady rhythm that had you gripping the desk tightly.

with one final, firm suck on your clit, he felt your body tense and then release in a cascade of pleasure. you came hard, your back arching off the desk, your legs wrapping around his neck. He held on tightly, lapping at your juices as your pussy contracted around his fingers. the sound of your cries filled the room, echoing off the walls in a symphony of ecstasy that only served to inflame his desire even further.

his fingers slow their rhythm, gently stroking your sensitive flesh as you ride out the aftershocks. your breath comes in ragged pants, and your eyes are glazed over with pleasure.

"ken," you whimper, your voice hoarse and needy. "more."

idk nanami is just the type of man you can be an airhead around cause you know he got it.

I didn’t know how much of an airhead i wanted the reader to be, but i ultimately settled on this one, so i hope you guys enjoyed it!

updates have been slow cause of school, so i’m just trying to get my drafts out of the way for now 😭.

[also, dodger blue by kendrick is so good!!!]

[riririnnnn]

I have this foreboding feeling that while we are prepared for Sae's and Shidou's backstory, Nagi's backstory is going to sneak from behind and punch us in the gut.

No, I don't think it's going to be straight up depression like Kaiser's, but I do think that it'll hit close to home.

You see, Nagi got Laissez-faire parents which means they never really interfered with his life. Like, these type of parents—as I have read on some websites—will basically set their child free and let them do whatever they want with no or very few rules/restrictions. They will not tell you, "Oh! You should do this!" or "Oh! You shouldn't do this!" They will simply let you figure out your life all by yourself.

I'm not an expert on this and I'm not calling this type of parenting bad in any way. Every child is different with different needs, and I'm sure there are many who grew up in this kinda family and liked this parenting method. However, I do think that Nagi didn't like it that much, and I got two reasons to think this way:

1. "That's nice."

When Reo said that his family constantly meddles in his life, Nagi's immediate reaction was, "That's nice" instead of being surprised or disgruntled. If Nagi really liked his parents NOT meddling in his life, then he should've said something like, "Really!? Sucks to be you, Reo. I can't imagine living a life like that!"

You getting me?

Also, we all know how Nagi is—he definitely feels that telling someone to do or not to do something is a hassle, so he, probably, feels that if someone is doing all this for you, then you are important for them.

And before any one says, no, I don't think Nagi was tying up his tongue thinking, "They are his parents. They wouldn't want anything bad for their own child, right? I shouldn't say anything against them and should say good things about them just to be safe." I don't think he has this kind of filter in him.

2. "Don't die ."

So, why would you not want someone to die? Of course, because you care for them and want them to be with you.

"Want"

That's really what I'm tryna highlight.

It's a pretty common knowledge that some children are just naturally more independent while others are a bit more dependent and seek guidance from the elders. Considering Nagi's first reaction to knowing about Reo's parents' meddling, I think that Kiddo!Nagi falls into the latter category—someone who likes to be guided and helped by the adults. Now, place Kiddo!Nagi with his Laissez-faire parents... You are getting where I'm going with this one?

That's why I think that Kiddo!Nagi, probably, thought that his parents didn't love him/care for him. And what happens if someone doesn't love you or care for you? Yeah, they don't care if you die which, somewhat, explains why Older!Nagi was happy to hear, "Don't die [before us (probably)]" from his parents.

I have already talked about his potential backstory before too, so it was actually when I heard he had longer bangs as a child that made my head turn to him again—something felt odd.

I understand that having long bangs is not a big deal—Niko's bangs literally cover his eyes, but having it as a kid is way different, y'know. Once you are like 12-13, you somewhat become capable of doing your own hair and clothes by yourself, so you can manage whatever aesthetics you prefer. However, for a kid younger than that, it's the parents' responsibility to look after his/her hair and clothes, and we all know that long bangs are quite bothersome—blocks our vision, sometimes stabs the eyes, and even irritatingly itches the nose.

All in all, till his backstory drops, I'd firmly believe that he was, though unintentionally, a neglected kid—at least, emotionally.

Now I can't get this image out of my head where Kiddo!Nagi is longingly staring at other kids in a park where everyone is learning things like riding a bicycle or maybe playing baseball and stuff with their parents while he is just.. there, probably, all alone.

[adashulaz]

One thing I've noticed about Piltover, not only do they not take disabled people into consideration(i.e. Salo and Viktor), they don't even think about their non-human residents. Steb being the number person to use as my evidence.

Stebs uniform when we first meet him is the typical enforcer uniform. The only difference is you can clearly see that Steb wasn't given a uniform that took his biology into consideration. The collar of the uniform goes up to the fin that's on the back of head/neck, and for fishes fins can be used to feel around them so I doubt having something rubbing up against the end of it all day is comfortable. Not only that but we know that his ears can move and are seen facing more outwards and away from his head, his hat wouldn't allow that and would make it very uncomfortable. The straps of his hat also cover the gils on his jaw and that as well would be uncomfortable, they're silts in his skin that would most likely allow him to breathe underwater so having fabric rub against it would be uncomfortable.

In conclusion, his uniform wasn't made with him in mind. His uniform would be fine for the typical human, the collar might be annoying but not uncomfortable for some. The hat wouldn't cause discomfort as well, it would be like wearing a typical hat or even just like a helmet. But that's for a human, Steb clearly isn't human. He's more fish-esque than human, his biology is different meaning his needs are different. His uniform doesn't fit those needs.

His uniform for Caitlyns striketeam is better suited for his needs(at least some of them). The collar goes out more, it's not rubbing up against his fin. His hat is much different, it's no longer covering his ears and it doesn't have straps that covers his gils.

Obviously Caitlyn had a say on the uniforms because they're part of her striketeam but she also took in Stebs needs and how his old uniform wasn't made with him in mind. So she made the suitable changes, even if they don't seem important, for Steb it most likely made his uniform more comfortable.

His uniform in act3, while it seems different than the others around him based on the fact that it doesn't have a belt and his arm things are black with minimal gold outlines, it still seems like the typical enforcer uniform based on the color scheme. Not only that but it looks similar to his uniform when he was on Caitlyns striketeam.

His collar still pokes out and away from his fin. His hat doesn't cover his ears and it doesn't have a strap that covers his gils.

This uniform takes in his biology, probably more than the two previous ones he wore based on the fact that it looks much more different. Graysons uniform and Marcus' uniform never looked like the one Steb wears in act3 and both of them were of a higher rank than Steb. So it's safe to assume that this new uniform that Steb wears is better sited for his needs.

Basically before all of this, Piltover never took in their non-human residents into consideration when doing things despite having Heimerdinger(a non-human) as a councilor and founder. Steb is a prime example of that, he shows this fact with the different uniforms he wears when on screen.

[midnighthazee]

I was tagged in this so let's go!

1: What’s your current bias line?

Can't I just say all?? I love them all too much. Hyunjin is my bias though but I'm very OT8. (Currently struggling with Felix... but they all take turns)

2: Who’s the one that made you Stan?

Hyunjin and Felix

3: What song was your first?

God's Menu (of course)

4: What’s your current favorite song?

Lose My Breath (SKZ Version of obvi) or Falling Up

5: What members personally resembles yours the most?

Hmm...idk...Hyunjin maybe...I can also be quite pabo

6: If you had to pick a specific racha which would you choose?

Danceracha

7: What’s one attribute of the members do you like the most? (Example: Chans dimples)

Chan: Fatherly vibe. the way he cares so much, takes care of them, and just stands off to the side to admire sometimes.

Minho: He has a soft side only for his important people. Also, something about his lips and nose get me

Changbin: No toxic masculinity here! love how soft and babygirl he can be even though he's a beefcake

Hyunjin: his smile, his laugh, he's too adorable to pick just one or a few okay. he's my bias...

Han: his laugh

Felix: HIS FRECKLES!!! I WILL NEVER STOP TALKING ABOUT IT!

Seungmin: his menace side

Innie: his dimples

8: What’s your favorite album?

5 Star

9: Do you have any albums?

Yes. ALOT! All versions of 5Star, Ate, and Rockstar. Plus Oddinary and 2 Maxident

10: Have you been to a concert?

Yes! AND I CAN'T WAIT TO GO TO dominATE!!!!

11: Who’s your favorite duo?

Hyunlix and Minsung

12: Favorite cover/solo songs:

All the solos on SKZ Replay

13: Favorite SKZOO?

Jiniret or Bbokari

14: If you had a day with one member what would you wanna do with them?

SIGH...ummm. Hyunjin and just sit and watch him paint. Lol

15: Who’s your favorite singing voice?

This feels rude...you expect me to pick just one??? Ugh..I'll say Yongbok (caz it's Felix when he uses his deep voice lol)

16: Who’s your favorite to watch dance?

Hyunjin... (I'm biased okay???)

17: Do you have a favorite SKZ Code?

Ep. 8 & 9. The Haunted school one. It had me CRYING with laughter.

or the Suspicious Lab (47 & 48)

18: Favorite MV?

Cheese, Easy, or Megaverse

19: Who do you think you’d be best friends with?

Changbin, Han, and Felix

20: Let’s feed those delusions, Who are you picking for a date and what are you doing?

Wow so many options. Ummm.....

Hyunjin. We will start off with a painting and wine class, followed by dinner at a yummy restaurant (we know my boy loves to eat). Then spend the rest of the evening inside...you know watching tv and maybe other things.... :) yes

.·:*¨ 𝑮𝒆𝒕 𝑻𝒐 𝑲𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒚 ¨*:·.

20 Questions for my fellow Stays!

Making a little tag game because I love them and I’m nosy tbh. I also just love interacting with yall!

1: What’s your current bias line?

2: Who’s the one that made you Stan?

3: What song was your first?

4: What’s your current favorite song?

5: What members personally resembles yours the most?

6: If you had to pick a specific racha which would you choose?

7: What’s one attribute of the members do you like the most? (Example: Chans dimples)

8: What’s your favorite album?

9: Do you have any albums?

10: Have you been to a concert?

11: Who’s your favorite duo?

12: Favorite cover/solo songs:

13: Favorite SKZOO?

14: If you had a day with one member what would you wanna do with them?

15: Who’s your favorite singing voice?

16: Who’s your favorite to watch dance?

17: Do you have a favorite SKZ Code?

18: Favorite MV?

19: Who do you think you’d be best friends with?

20: Let’s feed those delusions, Who are you picking for a date and what are you doing?

[arpicityandneed]

Hell Hath No Fury

(sequel to this ask.)

18+ f!reader. on the run Winter Soldier!Bucky. Dark Bucky. Angst. Violence. Hydra. Kidnapping. Threats of sexual violence. (No actual noncon) Rumlow (he's his own warning.) happy ending.

3.9k

~

The Asset was going to be punished. Maybe not right away, and never in a way he could anticipate, but he would be punished. The truth of it rattled in his bones.

He'd had pleasure, warmth, connection. All things that were forbidden to him.

So he'd ran.

But no matter how well he hid himself, the memory of you haunted him. Your conversations, the way your pussy felt on his cock when he split you open, the way you'd bitten his neck like he was yours.

He'd spent months simply observing you before you'd started teasing him. You were quick witted, a bit of a brat, more than a bit spoiled, but never cruel. You touched him without fear and only looked at his arm with curiosity.

You'd started confessing things to him when you realized he really wouldn't speak unless he had orders to. You told him you missed your mother who'd died as a child in an 'accident' you were sure was actually an assassination to get to your father. You told him you wanted a regular life with kids and maybe a cat. You even told him you hated being your father's daughter, the weight of expectation to be perfect and a pawn for him to marry off to whoever would get him the most power.

All the while the Asset had listened, tucking away the information deep into his heart because for some reason he knew it was important. He carried you home after parties left your feet too tired to walk another step in your heels and felt his heart flip in his chest when you nuzzled into him.

Then you'd started testing his patience, showing off your curves without remorse or shame. Tempting him with the softness of your breasts, the chub of your stomach and thighs, the wet heat between your legs.

When he'd finally snapped you'd taken him balls deep without hesitation. And it made him so angry (you'd let that pathetic dildo inside you? maybe you'd fucked other men before he'd been assigned to you. he hated the thought of anyone or anything but him fucking you) he'd used you like a whore, fucking you hard and deep without much thought of your pleasure. But to his surprise the harder he'd taken you the more you responded, clinging to him and begging for more.

Your pussy was sucking him in, milking his cock for his cum while you moaned and drove him crazy with your whines. "Do it, cum in me, get me pregnant I don't care--"

He'd had to cover your mouth, your words worming their way into his brain until all he could think about was seeing you grow round with his child.

The Asset knew he didn't deserve this pleasure but your pussy wouldn't stop fluttering around him, and the second he played with your clit you started fucking squirting on his cock.

How was he not supposed to cream you after that?

Maybe leaving the pillow under your hips was over kill, but some primal part of his brain wanted his seed to take. So he stuffed his fingers into your pussy to push his cum back inside you when it leaked out. You moaned in your sleep but didn't stir.

He licked his fingers before sneaking out the window- but not before he planted his own bugs in the room.

~

"Where did he go?" Listening to your father rage at you was killing him. Bucky- his name, lost for so long but knocked loose by the shock of being with you- knew you had every reason to turn him in. But for some reason, you weren't saying anything.

"I don't know dad. I had a one night stand and he was gone when I woke up." You muttered quietly, and Bucky wished he'd had camera's installed. He needed to see you. Make sure you were alright.

"You're lying to me! These people, darling, they don't like losing an Asset like that. If you don't tell me where he went we'll all have to face the consequences." Your father's voice was tight, anger and fear wrapped together in his tone.

"I already told you I don't know!" You yelled, and Bucky felt a fierce pride in his heart. The longer he was on his own, the more emotions he was able to feel. It had been months since his last wipe and his serum enhanced body seemed to be healing at an astonishing rate. So he was able to admit, he was proud of the woman his whole being had decided was his.

"Then we'll just have to hope they show us mercy."

~

Bucky now knew what his punishment was. You.

When he'd heard the chatter on HYDRA wavelengths discussing a possible reproduction of the serum, his heart was instantly in a vice grip. Of course they'd find out, and any child of his might be enhanced. How stupid could he have been?

By the time he made it to the hotel you were gone, your father dead from a bullet between his eyebrows. HYDRA worked quickly and quietly and Bucky was forced to reckon with his choice to leave you behind.

He had to do something, and fast. The thought of you in the clutches of HYDRA did something horrible to his breathing.

So for the first time since he remembered his name, he went to the only person he could for help.

~

Stevie was still an idiot. And though Stark's son was smart, HYDRA had been stealing his tech for years and Bucky was familiar with them.

He slipped into Steve's apartment without a sound and found the captain sleeping soundly. When Bucky allowed his presence to be felt Steve was up and searching for his shield in an instant. I still got it punk.

"I need your help." Bucky spoke before Steve could panic and call his teammates.

Steve paused, blinking and fully waking up as he took the assassin that was once his best friend.

"B-Buck?"

"We don't have time for this, Captain. I need your help." Bucky hissed, his own panic making itself known. That finally got Steve's attention and he nodded, his face growing serious.

"What can I do? Anything Buck." And Bucky could tell the man meant it. He still didn't trust the memories that had started to resurface, but he did trust the man in front of him for some reason.

"There's a woman. Might be carrying an enhanced child. HYDRA has her and we have to get her out." Bucky was tired, this was the most he'd spoken in years. But Steve was smart, listened to everything Bucky didn't say. She's mine. Can't let them have her.

"I'll tell the team-"

"NO!" Bucky's voice rattled the windows as he felt ice grow in his veins. If HYDRA saw the entire Avengers coming to their base? You'd be killed in an instant. "J-just, just us. Or else they'll terminate."

"Okay Buck, okay." Steve held up his hands gently in surrender, and took a deep breath before squaring his shoulders. "Then lets get to work."

~

It had been a month since the Asset disappeared when it happened. You woke up in a sterile white room with a throbbing headache and in a paper hospital gown. Your skin crawled at the thought of someone touching your naked body when you were unconcious.

"Hello? What kind of B list movie bullshit is this?" You called, trying to cover the fear that was taking over your body with bravado.

"I can see why he likes you." Came the reply when a man opened the door, his scarred face and leering eyes making you push back into the wall to try to get farther away from him. "But too bad. He's no where to be found. Ghost man you know?"

The man seemed to be enjoying himself until a second man popped his head in, an equally ugly look in his eyes as he looked over you. "Says there's still been no alarms tripped, Rumlow. He hasn't made a move."

"Thanks Walker, good job." When it was just the two of you again, Rumlow came over to crouch in front of you. He took a lock of your hair and rubbed it between your fingers. You wanted to throw up.

"You're pretty enough I guess. But honestly I'd just fuck you to make your precious little soldier boy pissed. He's the one who did this to my beautiful mug." He grinned as you cringed away, seeming to enjoy your revulsion.

"Don't worry, as soon as you pop out his brat I'll put another one in you." The threat made your stomach twist, but thankfully that was all he seemed to want to say. He stood and turned to leave, only pausing to smile at you once more- as if he knew that's what made you the most uncomfortable, seeing his scars pulled tight over his teeth.

When he left you curled around yourself, and the life inside you that you hadn't even known about until now.

We're gonna be okay. Your daddy is gonna come get us. I know it.

~

In the end it took four weeks. Four weeks to find information on where you were being held, plan out points of entry and exit, as well as transportation.

Bucky thought he knew pain, thought he knew everything there was to know about ways to torture a human being. But hearing chatter from some asshole about how he couldn't wait to force himself on you as soon as the baby was born was a new form of hell. That asshole, Rumlow Bucky found out, seemed to be the only real leak about you.

Everyone else barely mentioned you, trying to keep their new treasure to themselves. But Rumlow couldn't help himself. His putrid personality on full display as he talked about 'some girl' that Bucky knew in his bones was you.

It was the only connection Bucky had to you, listening to Rumlow go on about how fiesty you were and how he wanted to break you. It made Bucky decide Rumlow would be the last one to die. So Bucky could let you watch if you wanted.

By the time Bucky and Steve were heading out, Bucky couldn't even sit still. He paced the outdated quinjet Steve had stolen like a feral animal on a dangerously thin leash.

"We'll get her back Buck. We would've heard if something had happened." Steve had been a good partner in this, Bucky knew. He had done his best to reassure Bucky everytime he felt like tearing his hair out. (Could only admit to himself that Steve matched up with his memories almost eerily well, kind funny and protective of those he cared about.)

"Rumlow's been quiet. What if-" Bucky couldn't finish the thought. You were his. If Rumlow had touched you in any way, Bucky would have to start by breaking his fingers one at a time.

"He would've been bragging by now." Steve muttered as he flew the quinjet to the HYDRA base, one of their smaller facilities to distract anyone searching for you.

"Fly faster."

~

Something was different today. Instead of Rumlow coming in to taunt you, you'd been left alone. Every time your door opened for them to bring you a meal you heard lots of footsteps rushing around.

"What's going on?" You asked the tech assigned to feed you, not surprised when all you got was a look.

"Just tell me some gossip dude, I've been stuck in here for weeks." You tried to hide your desperation behind a charming smile, and it almost might have worked if Rumlow hadn't chosen that moment to stroll in.

"Get away from the subject." He growled and the tech snapped their mouth shut before scurrying out.

"Looks like its your lucky day princess. You're gonna get to see your boy toy get killed." You didn't rise to the bait even as your heart leapt in your chest, narrowing your eyes at the waste of space as he started pacing. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

You noticed three things right away. One was the massive gun strapped to him, one that looked more like alien tech than anything else. Second was the fact that he was blocking the door. Third, was that the son of bitch looked a little nervous, his mouth pressed into a flat line instead of his usual sneer.

"This? Oh I'm glad you asked," Rumlow held up the gun and pressed a button. The machine hummed to life and started glowing an odd shade of blue. "This is the newest HYDRA enhanced SHIELD knock off. Should even be able to destroy vibranium. Can't wait to test it out."

You heard a blaring alarm through the door, and for the first time in weeks it was your turn to smile.

"That gun you got?" You stood up, hand instinctively going to your belly as you taunted the man. "Isn't gonna be good enough. Cause he's coming for both of us and nothing will stop him. That's why you're afraid."

The slap surprised you, in your entire stay in this hell hole he’d never hit you. You cradled your cheek and glared at him with all the hate you had in your heart. You knew it would bruise, knew the throbbing pain wouldn’t go away for hours.

“Shut up! Just shut up! I’ll kill him, then I’ll kill you. But not before I get what I want.” He took another step towards you and you scrambled away, something clicking in your brain. You would have to survive—even if he touched you. For your baby if nothing else.

“I’m not going to die here.” You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince more, but the door opened again and Walker barked at Rumlow,

“He’s here. We need all hands.”

“In a minute!” Rumlow growled, but Walker shook his head.

“Directors orders.” Walker spoke firmly, and Rumlow cursed as he looked at you with something unhinged in his eyes, his grip on the gun tightening like he wanted to use it on you.

“We’ll continue this later, princess.”

You waited till he’d left before allowing yourself to sink to the floor, gasping for air as the reality of what was going on hit you. If your Soldat didn’t come for you, if he died (and fuck you didn’t even know the name of your child’s father) you’d be at the mercy of Rumlow and Walker with no way out.

You wouldn’t let that happen.

~

Bucky didn’t hesitate to slit the throat of any HYDRA agent coming his way, while Steve merely incapacitated them.

“Really Bucky?” Steve groaned as the pile of bodies grew. He had some misunderstanding that the lower ranked agents were somehow less guilty. But no, Bucky knew better. Ever single one of them would sell innocent lives for a chance for more power.

Bucky didn’t bother to respond.

12.

He moved with deadly grace, his knives slicing through the air before landing in the bodies of his enemies with frightening accuracy. He’d been armed to the teeth and hadn’t even touched a gun yet. That would’ve been too merciful.

15.

He kept a running tally of his kills as he was taught, his entire body searching for signs of you and Rumlow. Somehow he knew you wouldn’t be far apart. So as he worked his way deeper into the base and found two men, one with a scarred face that was vaguely familiar and a blonde who looked like a cheap knock off of Steve in front of a door with a heavy lock, he knew he’d found you.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Bucky would know that voice anywhere, and he merely stared at Rumlow. He knew his icy flat stare was unsettling and used it to his advantage. But despite the fear Bucky could smell off of Rumlow as Steve finally made it to Bucky’s side, he continued to talk shit.

“Too bad you’re too late. Your girl’s cunt is good stuff. I see why you’d kill for—” The knife lodged itself in Rumlows shoulder with a sickening thud and the man cried out in pain. And then Walker tried to back away, looking for ways to escape.

“Son, just don’t.” Steve warned before the coward ran, making Steve curse before going after him.

“Open the door.” Bucky’s voice was monotone, another knife appearing in his hand before it was thrown into Rumlows thigh.

“Over my dead body.” Rumlow tried to aim his gun at Bucky, but it was quick work to break his hand and toss the gun away. Bucky grabbed Rumlow by the throat in his metal hand and began to squeeze.

“Open. The. Door.” Bucky murmured lowly, watching with satisfaction as Rumlow slowly turned purple from the lack of oxygen. Just before he would’ve snapped Rumlows throat the man gasped out,

“Open, code R-two-D-seven-alpha-eight-six.” His voice was barely audible but the technology beeped anyway, the lock turning green. Bucky loosened his grip on Rumlow but didn’t release him.

Dragged him behind as he walked to the door, hesitating for the first time since this all started. Would you even want to see him?

When he stepped inside he was ready to grovel, apologize in every language he knew.

What he wasn’t prepared for was you launching yourself at him blindly, kicking and biting and screaming,

“You’re not gonna fucking touch me!” Rumlow got dropped like a sack of bricks, gasping for air and choking on it as Bucky grabbed your hands gently, speaking as softly (he didn’t even know he could do that.)

“Это я. Я не позволю им прикоснуться к тебе.” It’s me. I won’t let them touch you. Bucky watched as you slowly stopped trying to attack him, looking at him for the first time.

“Y-you’re really here?” You couldn’t stop the way your voice trembled, your eyes darting over him as if you couldn’t really believe it.

“Da.” He nodded before looking over his shoulder at Rumlow on the ground, trying to force his body to move despite his injuries.

“You want me to kill this guy for you?” Bucky asked in English this time, making you blink in surprise.

“You can speak English? You can speak?” You blurted out in your typical sassy way, making Bucky smile for the first time in months.

“Focus, do you want me to kill him? Because I will.” He was completely serious and he watched you truly consider it for a while, before shaking your head.

“You can put a knife in his dick though.” You were completely serious and Rumlow tried to crawl away, but Bucky moved faster easily.

“Тебе не следовало брать ее.” You shouldn’t have taken her. You watched with bitter satisfaction as Bucky kicked Rumlow onto his back and threw his final knife into the bastards crotch. Watching him howl in pain made you smile, and you went to your Soldat’s side grabbing onto his metal arm.

You looked down at Rumlow and grinned. “Told you, asshole.”

Then some other guy, Captain fucking America you realized with a start poked his head in the door and glared at your Soldat.

“Bucky we need to go. Reunion can happen later. They’re going to destroy the base.” The blond spoke swiftly and your Soldat, Bucky?, nodded.

“Let’s go.”

“You’re name is Bucky—?” You tried to ask before you were swept into Bucky’s arms, his grip on you secure as he started running behind Steve.

“My name is James, but apparently my friends called me Bucky.” He explained quietly, not even the slightest bit out of breath as they ran until they found a car. Bucky set you inside like you were made of glass before coming to sit beside you and slamming the door shut. Steve took to the drivers seat with a roll of his eyes. Tires screeched as you all drove away, and for the first time since you’d been taken your body allowed itself to break down.

You breathing started to grow fast, too fast, as you hyperventilated and started to shake. Tears fell down your cheeks as you hugged yourself. Bucky reached for you and you flinched without thinking.

“It’s over. I swear I will never leave your side again. You… or the baby.” He spoke with such conviction, fierce protectiveness in his gaze when you finally did look at him.

“You knew about..?” You asked as you tried to keep your sobs in, feeling like you were going crazy with the different emotions raging through you. Fear, relief, hope, it was too much to process at once.

“I’ve been trying to get you back since the day they took you.” He admitted quietly, holding his hand out slower this time, palm up in supplication. “I’m so, so sorry I left you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“They hurt you too. That’s why you worked for them.” It wasn’t a question, you’d seen the way his ‘handlers’ had treated him when you first met him. They spoke to him like a dog.

“I didn’t have a choice. You were what loosened their grip on me.” You took his hand, even though your fingers were trembling, and he brought your knuckles to his lips. “You saved me.”

“Then I guess we’re even.” You smiled a bit sadly, knowing it would be a long road to deal with everything that happened. But you were safe. And so was your baby. Even Bucky was back with you.

“10 minutes out to the quinjet.” Steve spoke quietly, and you startled. You honestly forgot he was there.

“Thanks Stevie.” (You noticed the way Steve’s eyes went wide, grew misty as he drove, and you wondered why that was.) Bucky carefully pulled you closer so he could wrap his arms around you, so his bones could know that you were safe.

“Where are we going?” You asked, looking up at him worriedly. “What about the baby? They wanted the baby, won’t they come for me again?”

“Let them fucking try.” Bucky growled, his arms tightening around you. “I’ll figure something out. But for now, just rest. I’ll keep watch.”

Now that he mentioned it, you were exhausted. And you trusted him. He’d come for you, just like you knew he would. And no matter what happened in the future, you knew he’d always come for you.

So you nodded, cuddled closer into his chest and promptly fell asleep.

~

Bucky carried your sleeping form into the plane, and Steve was amazed by how gentle his friend was with you. Bucky wouldn’t let you out of his arms let alone his sight.

Steve still couldn’t believe it. Bucky, who he’d thought was dead, was alive and somehow freed from HYDRA’s control. Bucky, who he’d thought was so broken by HYDRA that he barely remembered Steve, had called him Stevie like they were kids again.

And Steve knew it was because of you.

He was glad he’d put some other plans into motion while they’d been preparing to come get you. Plans that included Pepper creating a legal case in Bucky’s defense and sending Natasha to uncover HYDRA’s secrets to expose them.

It wouldn’t be easy, and there would always be people looking to get their hands on your possibly enhanced baby. But with the way Bucky was curled around you like a dragon with his treasure—Steve wasn’t worried. Anyone who tried to come for you again would have to deal with a wrath the likes of which no one had ever lived to tell.

Hell hath no fury like Bucky when it came to you.

[jokeroutsubs]

[📝ENG Translation]: Souvenir Pop Through the Eyes of Joker Out Members

Original article written by Boštjan Tušek, published 27.11.2024 on 24ur. Photos by Miro Majcen. English translation by @kurooscoffee, review by drumbeat, proofread IG GBoleyn123.

Full translation under the cut 👇

We visited Joker Out in their rehearsal space, where the band members shared their thoughts on their new album and explained all the songs from their third full-length album, Souvenir Pop, in their own words. The album has already been released on digital platforms and CDs, and they are promising a vinyl edition as well.

About the Title SOUVENIR POP:

Bojan: We were sitting here in the rehearsal space, struggling to find a short, universally understandable way to summarise everything that happened to us during this time. After some serious thought, we realised that the music is essentially a collection of memories—“souvenirs”—that we’ve gathered. For the first time in our lives, we traveled so much and spent so much time away from home. Everything was very “pop,” and we lived out all the pop star dreams we used to admire. We shortened this journey into “pop,” making it a souvenir pop journey.

Photo: Joker Out recently unveiled their third album, Souvenir Pop. Together with Bojan, Kris, Jan, Nace, and Jure, we analysed all the songs on the album. PHOTO: Miro Majcen.

On the Cover Photo Taken in Bed:

Jure: The cover photo was born long before the album got its title. It was captured on the morning of the semifinals last May in Liverpool. We kept it under wraps for almost a year and a half. We liked it already back then and immediately thought it could one day work as an album cover. When we started looking for a cover, it still best reflected our feelings.

Bojan: It was taken on an iPhone during the filming of a promotional video, so basically a completely randomly captured moment.

On the “Circus” Surrounding Them Because of the New Album:

Kris: What's particularly noticeable is the mental and emotional fragmentation. The songs are quite diverse and colourful, and at first glance, they didn’t seem to belong on the same album. But as Bojan said, they remind us of fridge magnets, which perhaps reflects that we were “all over the place,” and that we were exploring ourselves on a broader musical, lyrical, and instrumental level than usual.

Nace: You can tell the songs are “hyped up” because we were in that mindset. Different things influence you, and it would have been quite different if we had stayed home for a month before that instead of being on tour.

PHOTO: Miro Majcen.

On Lack of Time:

Kris: We had to intentionally carve out time to write and record songs. We spent two months in London, a month in Hamburg, and last year we took a week in Kočevje to work on 'Everybody’s Waiting'. Carpe Diem took 14 days. We were maybe even under a bit of pressure, knowing we had to produce something.

On Three Languages on the Album:

Bojan: We spent a lot of time with all three languages; speaking, listening, and thinking in them. The stories naturally emerged in all three languages, and we didn’t resist that because it would have been truly foolish.

I see language as just another tool for conveying information, like how a specific guitar effect suits one song but not another.

PHOTO: Miro Majcen.

On Egos:

Bojan: Egos have to clash because they’re an important part of our drive. I wouldn’t say our egos fight; they occasionally disagree, but everything generally moves in the same direction—to create something the five of us like. We have a healthy dose of competitiveness, and we’ve never truly had a fight. We separate the person from the musician, which I think is important.

Kris: There was never much ego, but for this album, we threw out what little was left. On this record especially, we faced moments where someone else did something on your instrument that you should have done. But that opened new possibilities and ideas—a fresh perspective. This happened to all of us except Bojan with vocals.

Kris: Today, a friend sent me a message from Venice; they were playing 'Carpe Diem'. Last year, we made it onto the top 40 charts of a Lithuanian radio station. PHOTO: Miro Majcen.

Comments on the songs from the album SOUVENIR POP:

1. MUZIKA ZA DECU (Serbo-Croatian):

Bojan: When the idea came to me, I was thinking about how much I liked what was coming out of the speakers; quite grown up. Then I had a flash of cynicism and sarcasm: it’s all just for girls, for kids. Hence, “muzika za decu” (music for children). Initially, it was called Zlatna kosica (Golden hair), haha. I wrote the intro, then improvised the rest of the lyrics in Hamburg while we were playing it.

Nace: You might have changed two words.

Kris: The intro I play on guitar was originally done by Bojan on the piano. While recording, I was strumming along, imagining a piano intro. But when we listened to it later, everything felt so wrong that we started liking it. That’s how it stayed. We recorded it all together in one room, in one go.

Bojan: Žare was thrilled that he had to “clean up” the vocals (laughs), which we recorded in the kitchen.

Jure: This is one of the songs which features guest performers; a children’s choir at the end.

Nace: The kids from our crew and their relatives sang. The first group sang too in tune, so we recorded another group that was a bit less perfect. In the end, we combined the two recordings, and it turned out just right. There were about 15 to 20 kids altogether.

Jan: The guitar sound came from my Whammy pedal, which the producer Žare Pak didn’t always like, haha.

Nace: We have to commend Žare for producing in such a way that everything unnecessary is stripped away. He never hides anything like some other producers might.

PHOTO: Miro Majcen.

2. ŠTA BIH JA (Serbo-Croatian):

Kris: This was the first song we created in London. Within a week, we already had the structure, though it initially resembled Bijelo Dugme. Some elements were later removed.

Nace: Yeah, Žare came in and said, “Guys, this is unnecessary” (laughs).

Kris: His reaction was hilarious. When he heard it, he said, “Did I send you to the UK to make yugo music?!” (laughs). It was our first Balkan reaction to being foreigners in a foreign country, and it just poured out of us. Bojan already had the lyrics “šta bih ja u ovoj crnoj noći bez tebe radio” (what would I do in this dark night without you), and we recorded it.

Bojan: I actually prefer hearing my voice in Serbo-Croatian over Slovenian, the position of the voice seems more natural.

Jure: It's interesting how the colour of Bojan's voice changes with different languages, which is actually quite normal.

Kris: Yeah, Bojan, in a 'Balkan language,' your rocker alter ego comes out even more, I think.

PHOTO: Miro Majcen.

3. CARPE DIEM (Slovenian):

Bojan: This is the original souvenir. And pop. It’s hard to believe how one song can change everything for you like that. It’s literally just one of our songs; not necessarily better than the others, maybe not even one of my favourites. But as our Eurovision entry, it perfectly conveyed our message. The whole story and image of the band are captured in those three minutes. It’s an excellent channel for our energy, which got people to believe in us and become interested.

Kris: Today, a friend sent me a message from Venice; they played 'Carpe Diem' there. Last year, we were on the Lithuanian radio top 40 charts.

Bojan: The most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen in my life was when an older Mongolian singer and his band played and sang Carpe Diem live at a reception for our president, Nataša Pirc Musar, in Ulaanbaatar. We also received a recording from Zanzibar, where someone played it on a hotel terrace.

Bojan: I wouldn’t say our egos fight; they occasionally disagree, but everything generally moves in the same direction—to create something we all like. PHOTO: Miro Majcen.

4. STEPHANIE (English):

Bojan: Of course, Stephanie isn’t really Stephanie, but these are real people who exist.

Jure: I didn’t have any part in this one since there are no drums; everything is programmed (laughs).

Nace: Yeah, everything was done by Casio, haha.

Kris: For many songs, we had a sample beat to practice with, and in some cases, it stayed in the final version. 'Stephanie' is one of those songs as well.

5. AKO TOGA VIŠE NEČE BITI (Serbo-Croatian):

Bojan: You believe in Santa Claus until you realise he doesn’t exist. It’s the same with love; until something destroys everything so thoroughly that you simply stop believing in it. This is a song about very raw disappointment with love.

Nace: I’m in a long-term relationship, and when you leave home, it’s a sacrifice both partners make. In the spirit of it being good for both of you and your partner supports it, everything is okay.

Kris: Full respect to your partner for enduring how you went from ‘zero to a hundred’ in six months.

Nace: We have to commend Žare for producing in such a way that everything unnecessary is stripped away. PHOTO: Miro Majcen

6. BLUZA (Serbo-Croatian):

Bojan: I wrote 'Bluza' a long time ago, up to the chorus, about three years ago. For a long time, nothing happened with it until I presented it to the guys on an acoustic guitar. From there, it developed quickly, in a day or two. We even played it on tour before its release. Initially, it was more guitar-driven than it is now. The title, 'Bluza', literally just comes from the lyric “u ritmu tvoga bluza” (in the rhythm of your blues), but I quite like it.

Jan: A lot of our songs are titled after a phrase from the first verse that has no connection to the chorus.

Bojan: Similarly, back in university, my friends kept nagging me about 'Gola' (Naked), why we gave it that title, but nobody thought of the phrase “za naju” (for us), haha.

Kris: It’s probably because, during the creative process, we repeat the first part a lot, and that phrase naturally becomes the title.

Bojan: The story of a song always takes shape in the first verse.

PHOTO: Miro Majcen

7. LIPS (English):

Bojan: We heard there’s a lot of money in music for films, so the song sounds like an apocalyptic ballad (laughs). Initially, it was quite Franz Ferdinand-esque. We even considered a duet with a French singer but didn’t have a clear vision, so we dropped the idea. Later, Žare and I restructured it, and then Nace tied everything together into a cohesive piece.

Jure: The song went through quite a few iterations.

Nace: Originally, it was a completely different song called 'Je t'aime'.

PHOTO: Miro Majcen

8. MESTO DUHOV (Slovenian):

Bojan: Trumpeter Luka Ipavec collaborated on this track, adding trumpet parts to the choruses. We created it in England and named it after the street we were living on; it had quite a dark vibe. Initially, the song was about a girl who cheated on me, leading to my suicide. Then we introduced the “papapapa” part, creating an atmosphere of a funeral, a procession. When we decided the song should be in Slovenian, we tied it to how the current social climate feels incredibly negative overall. People are always ready to quickly react to something negative. It’s no longer pleasant to go outside; everything reflects the weight of what’s happening around us. There’s unfortunately an air of superficiality around us.

Jan: The solo came to life in Hamburg. Later, when we were finishing the songs, I had the idea to rhythmically slice the solo so that it spells out “baby boo” in Morse code.

Jan: A lot of our songs are titled after a phrase from the first verse that has no connection to the chorus. PHOTO: Miro Majcen

9. SONCE (Slovenian):

Jan: I play the keyboards on this one. Bojan had already outlined the song on guitar with chords. The idea was to create something orchestral, like in 'Novi val'. I, however, approached it differently and arranged the piano part. I showed Bojan a melody that, in my view, reflects the essence of the song.

Bojan: This song is a direct reaction to events in Palestine. It’s the story of a deceased son speaking to his mother. It’s undoubtedly the most emotionally heavy song on the album. The structure is also unconventional; no part repeats, and the chorus appears only once. Jan captured perfectly what the vocals are saying with his piano part. It’s like a haiku, a single thought; not a classic pop song. Jan nailed the final take on his first try.

Kris: We could quickly get stuck creatively if everyone only insisted on their own instruments. Many songs only broke through when someone pressed something different. There were many moments where we needed that kind of freshness.

PHOTO: Miro Majcen

10. EVERYBODY’S WAITING (English):

Kris: This was a song we didn’t know what to do with until Žare offered the most basic beat, and Jan started working with the Rhodes electric piano, which set the direction for the album.

Bojan: Jan picked up the Rhodes out of nowhere and according to Žare, he plays better than 90 percent of Slovenian keyboardists (laughs).

Kris: Žare’s modus operandi is to break your conventional thinking and enhance your intuition. He believes intuition is superior to thinking.

PHOTOS: Miro Majcen

[witchtwig]

Costuming, Connections, and Constructing Meaning Agatha All Along Thoughts

This isn’t an essay. This is just rambling and plucking at the threads of thoughts I’ve had since the end of Agatha. Also apologies for the fact this is all over the place. I just really wanted to start sorting out some of the visual signifiers I was fixated on when looking at the Agatha All Along designs.

The costuming design, art, and choices made on Agatha All Along are phenomenal. And it is clear from just reading through Daniel Selon’s instagram how much thought and effort went into the work of making those looks stand out as strong as they did. In particular, I have been fascinated by two looks of Agatha’s—her witch’s look (first introduced in Wandavision) and her spirit’s look. In particular, I want to consider them through the lens of what they say about Agatha and potentially where she is going, but also, hypothetically, her relationship to the original Green Witch, Death, Rio Vidal. 

Agatha Harkness, Wandavision

As noted above, Agatha’s witch look was first seen in Wandavision. This is important in the context of Rio, because as a character she had not been introduced or even conceptualized yet. Despite that, I do think there are some interesting design choices on the costume that with the introduction of Rio, can be reanalyzed through that relationship (and to Nicholas, Agatha’s (and likely Rio’s) son). Specifically if we look at the neckline/chest design of the piece—there is a fascinating embroidery work. Tendrils of vines or roots mask off her chest, reminiscent of a scar. This is where her locket with Nicholas’s hair centrally sits (which, in episode 8, has fallen off and not worn during her battle with Rio). 

During episode 9, we see Agatha create a cairn over the burial of her son Nicholas. In this moment, she sings through tears that she “buried my own heart here with you, my child.” A central point of Agatha Harkness’ character throughout her journey in Agatha All Along, is that she is closed off to the point of using deceit to manipulate and obscure attempts to know or truly see her. And to turn back to the costume—this design work indicates the hidden nature of her heart. 

We can look too, beyond her witch’s costume, to her costuming within the fourth episode during the fire trial. Agatha’s heart is momentarily exposed, but she closes it off and hides it, specifically when her ex-lover, Rio, attempts to create a floor with her. It is interesting then to note that Rio has her heart on full display that entire conversation. 

Rio Vidal and Agatha Harkness, Agatha All Along episode 4

And to go further, we can also note that Rio’s costuming as Death in episode 8, quite literally exposes her obsidian heart. Where Agatha’s heart is hidden (scarred over, perhaps), Rio’s heart is on full display. Looking back at Rio’s episode 1 appearance near the end, she declares that her heart is black and beats for (you) Agatha.

Rio Vidal as Death, Agatha All Along episode 8

This is the fundamental crux of the struggle between these two characters in full display in the design choices of their costuming. Agatha’s heart is no longer on display or truly reachable (it has been buried, by Nicholas’ death, by Rio’s existence as death), versus Rio’s heart on constant display (open and yearning). To me, this is what makes the costuming and design choices of Agatha’s outfit as a spirit in episode 9 very interesting, because it suggests a shift, an evolution of her character (that may not have come into view fully yet, but can be explored moving forward).

Agatha Harkness, ghost costume behind the scenes

Agatha’s costume as a spirit has shifted from the closed, vine-covered design, to a more open space. Through death, through Death, accepting her lover, Agatha has found herself at a new point within her existence. One that allows light in, one where her closed off heart is no longer hidden under the weight, vines, and scarring of the loss of her son (and I would argue the trauma of her struggle to accept and feel comfortable in her love of Rio). 

The costuming change between her witch’s outfit and her ghost outfit also has a shift in the overall patterning of the upper portion of the design. As a spirit, the bodice now has an intricate line pattern, which could be argued to be reminiscent of Rio’s branching patterns.

Agatha and Rio's looks side by side

Daniel Selon noted on his Instagram the ghost design for Agatha that the costume’s letting in of light was her letting go of the weight of those she had taken the lives of over the years, I think too it more importantly could indicate the potential for her to begin to actually emotionally connect again with her heart no longer hidden. And if we look to the fact she both pointed out that she did not kiss Rio for Billy’s sake (further pushed by Jac Schaffer in an interview), and the fact she noted it was not Billy who released her from the hex (he merely loosened the lid), on top of her understanding that “sometimes… boys die”—this all could allow for her and Rio to reunite in the future on better footing. 

This of course hinges on the fact Agatha does begin to do some of the emotional work on herself that she has been avoiding, by helping Billy and giving herself the thing she felt she lost when she lost Nicholas. But the possibility for her to do that work is now there. She took a step in no longer denying her own emotions through her kiss with Rio, and has the possibility to work through her grief more fully through Billy. 

It should also be noted again that by and large, Agatha is not a very communicative person when it comes to her emotions. This is even more so true when acknowledging her feelings around Nicholas and Rio. She only calls Rio by her name once throughout the show, and not even to her face. She never divulges the truth of what happened to Nicholas to Billy, despite the youth seeking that knowledge. So, it is important then for her to wear visual markers of both on her, even where she will not voice their story—she is wrapped up in them all the same, still. 

It will be interesting to see where these characters go from here, because it is doubtful this is the last of any of them. And either way, symbolically, I think there is a lot of positive potential, tucked away into the costuming and design choices. Thanks for reading my weird little ramble!