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messenger-of-babel · 8 months ago

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Home is Where the Heart is

Summary: You could never tell what Jason was thinking, and this particular night he has a lot on his mind. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.0K

Notes: Mini vent- had a bad day and this week has been really tough so I’m changing up the layout of today as well so I could put out a fic that was a little easier on my mind (I always need to have more pep in my step when I write for my lanterns idk why haha. So sorry Kyle my baby I want to do you justice so you're on backburner). It was indeed written to Ed Sheeran on loop cause I needed to lock in fr. ❤️❤️

Enjoy Lovelies~! xx

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When Jason looked at you, you often wondered what he was thinking.

What was passing through his mind that made his irises gleam that brilliant shade of emerald or let the natural curve of his smile adored his face. However, every time that you asked he just blew his hair from his eyes gruffly, but let the smile stay. "That's a secret," he'd say before his hand would pull you to kiss side and he'd press a soft kiss on your forehead.

It was a little known fact that the Red Hood was in fact Jason Todd, but it was known to even less that Jason Todd was actually a romantic at heart. Sure, he had a mouth on him, and he was on the receiving end of your hand up the back of his head more often than he wasn't. But he was also the quiet kind of clingy, the kind that would never ask to hug you or initiate contact, but would stay up so he could have your back pressed against his chest the second you slipped into bed. He'd laugh when you brushed the hair out of his eyes, the scar on the corner of his mouth unable to stop his boyish grin. It was those moments in your kitchen that made you think that maybe, just maybe, your life was all normal.

You knew it wasn't.

When your fingers brush against his forehead you know that the white tuft in his hair was a painful reminder of his death, the scar on his lips you so lovingly kissed caused by the very man who had killed him. His hands were littered with small scars from blocking knives and protecting his head from glass instead of childhood memories of climbing trees. His back was a canvas of white slashes that intersected in a map-like pattern, a surface already so touched that the symmetrical red lines you left seemed less stunning in comparison. Legs sporting burn marks, bruises permanent along his ribs; that was the Jason that you knew. So even if some days you pretended that he was some ordinary civilian like yourself, you still loved Jason with all your heart.

On this particular night he had come home from patrol, sitting on the kitchen counter while you patched him up. You had been a pretty awful field doctor the first time you offered, but he braved through your prods and pokes with a wince. He didn't say anything about the way you wrapped the bandages too loosely or that you had forgotten some antiseptic and had given the wrong type of topical painkiller. Jason could see the worry on your face, so he leant forward and kissed your forehead tiredly, thanking you with a soft murmur.

You didn't need to know when he slunk off the bathroom to rewrap the bandages, or when he reapplied ointment in the right area. He picked glass out of his own skin when you missed some, letting the shards clatter down the sink. All that consumed him was the thought of how soft you were when you handled him, when you passed the bandage around his middle, or when you tried to clean the wound with as little antiseptic as possible to try and prevent the stinging. He normally hated having to doctor himself up, meaning that even the smallest of injuries tended to scar under his negligence. Yet with you he had been ashamed of the scars, hyper aware of how your eyes lingered on them. More so, how other people stared at them when you were out together. So, for months he spent nights in the bathroom redoing the handiwork you insisted so passionately on learning, just so that there wouldn't be a scar you could blame yourself for later.

You were absolutely perfect, so there was no reason that he couldn't be for you too.

You had become better though, and that was through the help of Alfred. Now you had patched him up efficiently and tightly, patting his hip affectionately when you pull the bandage tight. "Almost done," you smile up at him, fingers pulling the end of the bandage tight and reaching for a bandage clip. "Just got to secure it and you'll be good to go."

He smiles and drops a tired kiss to your skin as usual, pulling your fingers away when you’re done so he can raise them to his lips. "Thanks, darl." he grins, eyes tired but grin still lively as ever. He slides off the counter to wrap his hands around your waist, kissing your nose. You just huff and give him a side glance, arms circling his neck without hesitation.

"What's got you all worked up?" you ask with a light laugh when he’s overly affectionate with you, making Jason groan and drop his head into your hair.

"Just tired." he mumbles. "Bruce pissed me off again today, started lecturing me on the way home."

"Bruce pisses you off most days." you chide. "How did you ever escape the lecture?" you chuckle, moving with him as he begins to sway.

"I turned the commlink off and came up through Southside Gotham so he couldn't follow me." he grins.

There it was.

"There's always something with you, isn't there?" you shake your head, beginning to spin around with him softly in the candlelight. He laughs, and you imagine it’s the sound of a young boy finally getting to live life normally again.

"Always is, babe. you know me." he chuckles, and his eyes flutter over to the candles you have on the counter. It was always dark when he came home normally, and in his tired state he hadn't questioned it. After all, his family worked best in the dark.

"Power outage at the moment?" he asks.

"Power got cut off." you murmur back with a sigh. "We missed last payment. Only a few days, but you know how quick they jump on those these in Gotham. It's all paid up now, but it'll take a day or two to get back. Cold things from the freezer are in the washing machine with the ice blocks."

He hums, stroking a hand up and down your back. "You're well prepared. Sorry for making you deal with them, I'll handle it next time, I promise."

Jason hated using Bruce's money.

Not only was it something that sat bitter in his mouth ever since he had come back, but he didn’t need it. Dick had also rejected it and moved to Bludhaven, and even though he'd never admit it, Jason respected the way he managed to build a home for himself there. He wanted to do that too, and he could do it damn well by himself. He still took some money, but it was no more than a wage from Bruce. He considered protecting Gotham his job, and he wasn't stupid. He wasn’t going to let his pride get in the way of helping you both live. He hated to see you stress about finances, but you never asked him. You never asked him to reach out to Bruce for more or reach out to Bruce yourself.

The first time rent had gone up it had nearly priced the both of you out of the cozy apartment you lived in, and you had been in tears for days trying to find a second job to cover the expenses. Yet you didn’t come begging for Bruce's assistance, no. You looked at him with those teary eyes and asked him to help make a budget with you so you could figure a way out, and you did. You were the most resilient person he knew, the most resilient person he loved.

He held you closer as he spun you softly around the kitchen.

You were going to need to be resilient.

He inhaled the scent of your shampoo and let his arms bask in the warmth of you. Your skin against his made the thrumming in his side ease and the headache blistering behind his eyes subside. As you relaxed against him, his head raced of all the ways that he could tell you. Tell the most perfect being that had ever walked into your life that he was leaving, and not only that, he was going to have to break your heart on the way out.

He cursed Bruce. He cursed Bruce for making enemies that had cunning greater than his own, for dragging him into the mess he had created. He had yelled and spat and screamed at the older man until his voice resonated off the cave walls, storming from the cave after tonight's fight. Bruce had asked the impossible of him, after they both got their asses handed to them in a surprise attack. They had taunted Bruce, not the Batman, and had enough evidence to bring Bruce's world and carefully hidden persona crumbling down around him. It just so happened that they had enough to bring Jason's down as well.

They knew about you.

Pictures of you had fluttered down towards him, filling him with an indescribable sense of fear. As hard as they fought, they had let the new visitor of Gotham's nightlife slip through their fingers and Bruce had asked him to break up with you not a second later. There was no empathy, there was no kindness or waiting for it to sink in for him.

But there never was.

In that moment Bruce was Batman, but Red Hood had been the scared Jason Todd.

How did he tell you that he wanted to break up when that was the furthest thing from the truth? That he would walk through hell barefoot and dunk himself in the Lazarus pit again if that mean that you were still there to warm his bed at night? How could he tell you that he didn't love you when his heart ached to tell you it every time he got the courage? He could play the tears, play the part of a sad breakup. That part was easy, considering how this was shaping to be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. It was the rage that he couldn't muster, for once. Rage was something that he saved for the streets, a place already so crime ridden and scummy that his bitterness and anger were practically masked under the filth. It wasn't a place for your home, the little shelter the both of you had carved out of Gotham with your own two hands.

So, he spun you around the room, eyes watering with tears yet to shed as he thought about how to let you go. He knew you wanted to stay, and that made his heart ache in return. It was like losing a part of him that hadn't even been lost yet, a void already forming in his chest. He sniffled lightly and thankfully you didn’t hear or notice his arms squeezing tighter, as if to imprint the feeling of you against his body. He tried to tell himself it was only a temporary thing, that he could explain it all to you later when the threat was done. That thought often lost against the conjured image of your heartbroken eyes his mind created to torture him, and the persistent thought that you'd probably never want to see him again when he was about to break your heart so violently.

You don't notice something is wrong until the first tear hits your hair, silently giving way to more. You notice the slight shake in his arms and the tension still wound in his body. Normally the stiffness in his muscles flowed out of him like water when he stepped over the threshold of the house, but not tonight.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask softly, pressing into him to try and comfort him, your heart panging in confusion at his strange behaviour.

Jason would never tell you, but when he looked at you he wondered what the rest of your life together would look like, and if you'd ever considering changing your name to 'Todd'.

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vettelsvee · 5 months ago

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THE CALL OF LOVE | Sebastian Vettel

Primary School Teacher!Sebastian Vettel x Primary School Teacher!Reader ↳ Teacher AU ⋆ Part of CLASSROOM GOSSIPS

SUMMARY: Seb is the cool, annoying, extroverted teacher, while you are the shy, introverted and perfectionist one. Seb phones you all the time because he wants to get closer with you somehow but, also, he knows that you suffer from pretty bad anxiety and wants to respect your boundaries. However, when you have to go to Seb's class and ask him for help after your classroom becomes pure chaos, he finds the perfect opportunity to become closer with you... only to find out that, definitely, you want to get closer with him as well even your anxiety says otherwise ↳ BASED ON THIS POST I MADE TODAY!

WORD COUNT: 4798

WARNINGS: Mentions of anxiety, curse words. Lots of fluff (I loved this Seb btw).

TAGLIST: @koalapastries @blushmimi @herdetectivetheorist @awnmaneez

VEE'S NOTES: Third Teacher!Seb fic in a row since you asked! Hope you liked it as much as I loved writing it! Thank you for all the love you're giving to this, really, I'm so grateful <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

Although it wasn’t enough for many, you were more than happy being a teacher at one of the most well-known schools in Heppenheim, a small town in Germany.

Now that you had achieved your dream, all you wanted was things to flow perfectly. The main problem? Your anxiety and constant need for perfection, which were the most notable things about you. On top of that, there was the strict routine that was almost impossible to deviate from. However, the real problem lay in everything related to socializing... not with your students or their parents, but with the rest of the teachers.

Sebastian Vettel, the teacher of the other 2nd grade class, had also started working there that same year. Although you initially thought your relationship would be a calm one, the reality was far from that. Seb was the complete opposite of you: a walking chaos, with more than enough confidence and a charm that made him some kind of superhero to his students.

You tried your best to keep a professional relationship with him, but it was impossible. When you wanted to do a project on biodiversity with perfectly structured activities aligned with the curriculum, Seb preferred to take them outside to let them see it for themselves. If you thought it would be a great idea for them to write a small essay about Christmas, Seb preferred to show them a movie because, in his words, “they would have time to write when they’re older.”

And if that wasn’t enough, Sebastian had the annoying habit of calling your classroom phone several times a day with ridiculous questions:

“Miss Y/L/N speaking,” you answered as calmly as you could, while still supervising your students coloring.

“Y/N!” Sebastian shouted from the other end of the line. “Hey, quick question... Do our students need permission from their parents to go out?”

“To go out? Do you mean… recess?” you frowned.

“Of course!”

“No, Sebastian, the kids don’t need permission to go out during break. It's mandatory,” you added with a hint of sarcasm.

“Great, thanks! By the way, did you know the hold music is super cute? I thought you'd want to know since it's as cute as you and…”

You hung up before he could continue.

The next day, the same thing: Sebastian called just to ask whether necessary needed one "c" or two. The day after, it was to ask whether the coffee in the teacher's lounge was free.

It was never anything serious. There was never an emergency or anything like that. It was simply Sebastian Vettel asking you the most stupid things, things he already knew perfectly well. Despite that, you forced yourself to answer the phone, trying to calm your anxiety while giving him a quick, convincing response to get him off the line, before hanging up.

You knew you could ignore him, but deep down, this strange routine had become your favorite part of the day.

And, unbeknownst to you, for Sebastian, it had too.

Seb knew exactly how you felt about him; about any interaction with your colleagues, in fact. He was fully aware that you were a little scared of speaking in public. He could tell by moments like when you nervously played with a pink pen with butterflies every time you had to speak during staff meetings, or when during the Christmas play, just before going on stage with him and your students, you excused yourself by saying you were about to vomit... something that wasn’t entirely an excuse.

To him, you were the brightest person he had ever met. The way you taught, how you cared for your students, how he noticed you watching him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention... Seb knew that being this persistent could have the opposite effect on you, but as much as he wanted to take a step forward and maybe become a friend, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or pressure you into anything you didn’t want.

So, Sebastian decided to stop calling you.

You were puzzled when the phone didn’t ring. At first, you considered it a good thing, but as the hours went by, you realized something was missing.

The day felt endless, something that rarely happened to you. The same went for your mood, which had plummeted. And as if that weren’t enough, the art class turned into an absolute disaster, and you didn’t know how to manage it, no matter how hard you tried to calm your anxiety and think of alternatives to wrap it up as soon as possible.

Your students only needed a few minutes working on their own, making animals out of paper-mâché, while you corrected math tests, to turn the class into a total mess. There were strips of paper everywhere. The younger kids had glue all over their hands, leaving trails everywhere. One of the blue paint cans had even fallen to the floor, spreading quickly.

To make matters worse, when you tried calling Sebastian to see if he could bring you a mop, the phone decided to stop working.

You sighed and looked at the door separating your classroom from his, realizing that you had no choice but to admit to yourself that, as hard as it was to ask, you needed help.

Without saying anything to your students, you took a deep breath and shyly cracked open the door.

Sebastian was sitting at his desk, gesturing dramatically with his hands while his students stared at him as he seemed to be telling them a story.

"So, there I was, in front of a goat, after losing my parents. And do you know what happened next?" he said, walking dramatically and opening his eyes wide.

“What happened, Mr. Vettel?!” the kids shouted.

“The goat ate the sandwich my mom had made me for the trip.”

The class burst into laughter.

You couldn’t help it and laughed too, stopping when the embarrassment of having to interrupt the class just to ask for help washed over you once again. You couldn’t just walk in there like it was nothing, and—

“Oh my goodness! Look, kids, we have a surprise guest!”

You paled. The 30 second graders all turned towards you at once, their faces lighting up as if they’d seen an alien.

Then, they started chanting your name and running toward you to hug you, forcing you to step inside. Sebastian hopped down from his desk and approached you, arms crossed and wearing a smile that, if you were honest with yourself, you were dying to see.

“What do I owe the pleasure, Miss Y/L/N?”

You clenched your fists, knowing there was no way around it.

“Well… I need your help, Mr. Vettel,” you admitted in a low voice.

Sebastian blinked. Although it took him completely by surprise, he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he turned to his students.

“Alright, kiddos. I need you to be really good and stay quiet for a moment while I help our favorite teacher, okay? I’m right here, so if I hear any shouting, I’ll take away your snacks and Friday’s movie tradition.”

A collective gasp spread through the class, but Sebastian didn’t have to say anything else. Immediately, all the kids went back to their seats and pulled out books to read.

To your surprise, they didn’t make another sound.

“Come on, Miss Y/L/N, lead the way.”

You followed his lead, and then it was you who invited Seb to come in. Once he stepped inside, the German had no words. Instead, his eyes started to scan the room.

“Wow…”

“Yeah, I know…” you sighed.

Sebastian slowly turned to face you, trying not to laugh. Of all the chaos, what surprised him most was that one of the kids, named Martin, had his shirt stuck to the chair, covered in glue, and three desks were completely covered in the same blue paint that was on the floor. To top it off, the stain you had seen moments ago had spread not only on the floor but also on the clothes and faces of many of your students.

That’s when you realized the worst.

A group of girls was standing, whispering to each other, around the hamster cage in the class... which was empty.

“Y/N…” Seb lowered his voice. “Tell me the hamster’s in the cage, but I don’t see it…”

“It’s somewhere in the classroom. The problem is, I don’t know where, and there’s only half an hour left before the day ends…” You admitted, feeling quite embarrassed.

“Are you telling me there’s a dwarf hamster loose around here?”

“Are you going to help me or what?” you snapped, frustrated, glaring at him. “Look, Sebastian… We don’t have much time before we have to leave, and if I don’t get the kids out at the exact time, just like they were brought in, you know the parents are going to go crazy…”

“Relax, Y/N. I got it.”

You didn’t have much idea what could be going through Sebastian’s head, let alone how he’d manage to fix this, but you tried to relax and give him a chance for everything to return to normal little by little.

To your surprise, that’s exactly what happened.

Not only did he divide the children into small groups to do simple tasks, like going to the bathroom to clean up, looking for the class hamster (which they found almost immediately, curled up beside a cabinet), or collecting the materials they’d used and putting them away, but he also took both classes to the school exit so you wouldn’t have to face desperate parents asking why their kids looked like they’d just been on a jungle expedition.

The bell marking the end of school had rung half an hour ago, and you were fully aware that most teachers had probably packed up and gone home by now. Sebastian hadn’t even appeared to tell you that his students had returned safely to their parents, and, for a reason you knew all too well, that disappointed you.

You sighed, trying to let go of those thoughts and illusions that shouldn’t matter so much. Instead, you focused on the pile of papers on your desk, the art supplies that still hadn’t been put away, and the paint that, no matter how hard you tried to clean it off the floor, seemed impossible to remove. You decided to calm down and start with something simple, like putting away the materials and picking up tiny pieces of paper from the floor.

“Do you know school’s over for today, right?”

You turned to the door. Sebastian was leaning against it, arms crossed and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He threw his backpack on the floor and walked over to sit next to you, helping you pick up the papers without any explanation.

“No… I didn’t hear you come in…” you confessed in surprise. And I wasn’t expecting you, you thought.

“That’s because I’m as sneaky as a ninja. The kids tell me that all the time,” he smiled, glancing at you sideways.

Seb continued his task, silent, scanning the classroom. It was no longer the disaster it had been just an hour ago. Now, the desks were perfectly grouped in fives, the class materials seemed to finally be in place, and, to your surprise, the stains had disappeared from everywhere.

“Y/N, you should go home,” Sebastian told you, standing up and helping you to do the same.

“I just need to finish cleaning up a little more…”

“Or you could not do that,” he interrupted.

You let out a small laugh for the first time that day, carefree. You were nervous and exhausted, and Seb knew that perfectly well.

“I just want to make sure everything’s perfect for tomorrow,” you admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“We managed to not kill a hamster with twenty-something kids running around and stopped the paint from getting on the walls, and you’re telling me you want to make sure everything’s perfect for tomorrow?”

“Well… yes,” you answered, looking down and biting your lip.

“That’s pretty adorable, honestly,” Sebastian said. Realizing what he’d just said, and that it might make you uncomfortable, he corrected himself. “I mean, as in your passion for teaching and everything…”

Stop fooling yourself and be honest with her, Sebastian.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s that, but…” you tried to articulate, your cheeks completely red.

“Well, the thing is: what else can I help you with?” Sebastian asked, unable to stop smiling. The fact that you were embarrassed by something so simple seemed so cute to him that he couldn’t stop looking at you.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, what can I help you with, Y/N?” he repeated slowly.

“Well… the truth is, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” Sebastian interrupted. “But I want to help you.”

You stared at him, unable to respond. You were used to helping people, not being helped yourself, and that left you speechless.

“What’s left to do?” Vettel insisted with care, moving a little closer to you while still keeping his distance.

“If you want, you can put the exams on the desk into the folders beside them,” you finally said, giving up.

“On it, Miss Y/L/N.”

“But really, Sebastian, you don’t have to—”

“If you tell me again you don’t need help, I’ll have to punish you with no recess.”

You burst out laughing, and to Sebastian, it sounded like pure medicine. For the first time that day, you didn’t feel like a total failure.

You worked in complete silence, letting time pass as you finished organizing everything. When you were finally done, you slumped into the chair and started checking your emails, wondering if any parent had decided to make your day even worse by sending a complaint after the day you’d had. To your surprise, there was nothing. What did surprise you, though, was that Seb came in with two cups of hot chocolate and a bag of sweets that, even more surprisingly, were your favorites.

“Here you go,” he said, offering you one of the cups while placing the bag on the table. “You were so focused that I didn’t want to bother you by saying I was leaving. And, well… I also wanted to brighten your day a little.”

You thanked him with a smile and didn’t hesitate to try the chocolate, which tasted like a real victory after such a bittersweet day.

Then, you closed your computer, put it in your bag, and, to your surprise and his, turned your chair to face him.

“What’s going on?” you said, noticing that Seb was looking at you… strangely.

“Nothing. It’s just… you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, not knowing what else to say. Instead, he shook his head and set his mind on doing what he had promised himself when he started working there: to try to become friends with you.

“Tell me about Miss Y/L/N’s teaching philosophy,” he finally said.

“Excuse me?” you hesitated.

“Come on, let’s go. I know you have one. You take this job too seriously not to have some kind of ritual or something to make everything go perfectly…”

“Except for today,” you replied.

Seb didn’t say anything because he knew how much you’d keep beating yourself up. Instead, he took a chocolate from the bag he had brought, unwrapped it, and placed it beside you. You finally accepted it without complaint, but with a smile in return.

“Well… I guess I want them to feel safe,” you started to say. “I want them to know that no matter what happens, it’s okay to make mistakes or not be perfect sometimes… I want them to know that I’m here for whatever they need, and that they can be great people in the future.”

“That’s amazing, Y/N,” Seb nodded slowly, unable to take his eyes off you.

“It’s not a big deal…”

“Of course it is,” he replied. “You care a lot, don’t you?”

“More than you can imagine…” you swallowed, feeling a little vulnerable.

“I can see that perfectly, yes.”

“Really?”

“Seb nodded, playing with his mug.”

“You’re always the first one to arrive, and I’d swear the last one to leave. You do the most original activities and, at the same time, try not to die in the process, even though today was the exact opposite,” you both laughed. “You want to be perfect for them and try to give your best.”

“Is that bad?” you asked cautiously, tensing up a little.

“Not at all,” Seb answered immediately. “But sometimes I think you should stop being so hard on yourself and just go with the flow. You know... let things just happen by themselves.”

You were about to answer, but he continued:

“You’re a great teacher, Y/N. You don’t need to prove it to anyone but yourself, okay?”

Something in your chest tightened. You weren’t used to hearing things like that, especially not from your colleagues.

Or maybe you never gave yourself the chance for someone to recognize your well-done work, thinking it had never been, and would never be, enough.

You kept talking to Sebastian about a bit of everything, feeling right at home. The hours passed, and between questions about how you both ended up being teachers, what motivated you to dedicate your life to it, and how you both ended up in Heppenheim, it was already 7 PM.

You glanced at the clock and immediately stood up, quickly starting to gather your things, which made Seb alarmed.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, worried.

“I should go…” you said, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. “I need to catch the bus before it gets too late. It’s the last one of the day and…”

“Wait,” he interrupted you. “You take the bus home?”

“Uh... yeah?”

“This late?”

“I’ve been doing it since I moved here, so it’s nothing new.”

“And no one’s offered to take you home? Not even to share fuel expenses and stuff?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course it is,” he replied. “From now on, I’ll take you home.”

Your eyes widened, surprised.

“Sebastian, you really don’t have to…”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” he cut you off, taking your backpack, offering his hand, and leading you out of the classroom, making sure to turn off the lights before you left.

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

“Do you think you’re a bother just because I want to take you home and make sure you arrive safe?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway and still looking at you. “I’d be a terrible friend if I let you go alone on the bus, especially this late with all the drunk creeps around.”

You froze. Friend.

“Come on, let’s go,” Seb spoke again. This time, noticing you were shivering, he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from your nervousness, so he decided to put his jacket over your shoulders. “The day you let me help you a little more, we’ll be the best team the world’s ever seen.”

You didn’t say anything else until you reached Sebastian's car. Not even when you sat inside after Seb opened the door for you and turned the heat on full blast.

“Well…” Seb broke the silence as he placed his hands on the steering wheel. “Where to, Y/L/N?”

“You want me to guide you all the way?”

“Do you expect me to guess the way?” Vettel joked. “Y/N, I’ve got balls, but none of them are crystal, so…”

Embarrassed, and especially starting to overthink whether Seb would start judging you not only for your answer but for the entire day you spent together, you simply gave him the directions.

Seb, knowing you might be feeling down and, unlike the whole afternoon when you talked about everything, seeing you retreat into yourself again, started asking you a bit of everything. Why did you decide to move to Heppenheim, such a small town? What was your favorite place? Did you like your neighborhood?

You weren’t used to that flood of questions, and especially not to people showing interest in you. Since you were very young, you always felt left out, like you didn’t belong to any group...

But with Seb, it was different. It was like he actually cared about you, and you couldn’t help but feel incredibly good about it.

“I like the new neighborhood. Quite cozy and nice...”

Seb parked the car in a small free spot in front of the apartment block where you lived. Then, he turned toward you with a smile, placing his arm behind your seat.

“It’s very quiet, which is great when I need to grade or when I just want to read and relax.”

“Oh, are you one of those?” Seb teased.

“One of what?”

“One of those teachers who reads all the time.”

“Seb, we’re teachers,” you were surprised to call him by his nickname so naturally, but you didn’t regret it. “Of course, I read all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but what I mean is, do you read for fun?” he corrected himself. “Do you read those dirty books or the inspirational ones that tell you how to be the perfect teacher?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you hit him on the arm.

“I read for fun.”

“That confirms it, you do read those dirty books where they’re constantly... you know… having sex in the dirtiest ways…”

“They’re called romance novels, Seb,” you corrected him, ignoring his comment. “The last thing I read was a romantic novel, okay? With no sex in it, by the way.”

“I knew you were a hopeless romantic…”

“I don’t know why I even told you anything…” you whispered, hiding your face in your hands.

Seb wanted to reply with something more, to joke around with you, but he knew that for today, it had been enough. What mattered was that you had felt comfortable and, most of all, opened up a little more with him that day.

Silence fell between you both again, but neither of you dared to say anything else. Not even you, who had yawned a couple of times and were dying to get home and get into bed without even having dinner, made the effort to get out of the car.

You didn’t know why you were so hesitant to leave. It was easy: thank Seb, say goodnight, get out of the car, and walk into the building without waiting to see if he drove off. Instead, you decided to stay there, by his side, your hands resting on your legs, feeling safer and, above all, happier than you had in a long time.

Seb didn’t say anything either. Instead, he focused on the streetlights, growing brighter with each passing moment, while his fingers drummed on the leather steering wheel.

Finally, you were the one who decided to take the step, to both your surprise:

“Well... I felt really comfortable today,” you admitted, with a calm voice.

Seb turned toward you suddenly, surprised.

You swallowed nervously, trying not to let the anxiety consume you and, above all, trying to stop the embarrassment from taking over.

"Well, I was thinking that... we could do this once in a while..."

Sebastian's lips curled into a smirk.

"What, reorganize a class and try not to die in the process? And not killing a hamster?"

"No, I meant...," you hesitated, then looked at him shyly. "I meant… spending time together. Outside of school."

That caught Sebastian off guard, but he couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face. He hadn’t expected you to say that, especially not after the chaotic day you'd both had.

"Wait..." he murmured, searching for the right words. "Are you telling me that... you want to spend time together, and not during class hours?"

You felt like you were going to die from embarrassment. Nervous and a little regretful, you weren’t going to back down though. You held your backpack tight, like some kind of protection, while fidgeting nervously in your seat.

"Well... I felt really comfortable today with you, and I thought maybe we could do it again. You know… grab a coffee, go for a walk..."

Sebastian didn't say anything. He just stared at you, unable to recognize the person in front of him, yet delighted that maybe, with a little bit of help from him, you had stepped out of your comfort zone, even if you didn’t seem entirely comfortable.

"Forget what I just said..." you mumbled.

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze, unable to look at him in the face. Sebastian, however, couldn’t have been happier in that moment.

"Not a chance. I like your idea. Actually, I’m more than happy with it."

His voice was calmer now, which gave you the courage to look at him. His blue eyes, which normally made you nervous and stole your words, now made you feel the same, but for an entirely different reason. You felt pressure in your chest, but this time it was nothing like the anxiety or fear of being judged and rejected.

"Hey," Sebastian spoke again, gently taking your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. "Since, from what I’ve just heard, you don't mind spending time with me..."

"Seb, please, don’t ruin this moment..."

You narrowed your eyes, instinctively leaning toward his lips, and Sebastian didn’t hesitate to close the distance, pressing his lips to yours. At first, it was soft, like you both were making sure that was really happening not just in your minds. When Sebastian felt you sigh against his lips, something in him clicked. His hand, still resting on your chin, slid to your cheek, caressing it tenderly, while his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

You let yourself go, feeling butterflies in your stomach for the first time in a long time, not because you wanted to disappear, but because you felt more alive than ever.

When you finally pulled apart, Sebastian rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

"Tell me this isn’t a mistake, Seb..." you whispered, still confused about what just happened.

"If it is, I hope you, Miss Perfection, don’t mind."

You laughed nervously, filled with emotions and confusion, but mostly happiness.

"So... what now?" you asked, breathless.

"I love the idea of kissing you in my car like a couple of teenagers, but I think it’s getting too late and we have to get up early tomorrow. So, I have an idea."

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop smiling.

"I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. How does that sound?"

"What?"

"Tomorrow's Thursday, Y/N. We have to go to class," Sebastian explained, as if you didn’t already know what he meant. "If I pick you up, you won’t have to wake up extra early to catch the bus."

Your heart skipped a beat. Yes, it was a simple offer, nothing extraordinary, but to you, it felt like more... like Sebastian wanted something more with you.

Like you mattered to Sebastian Vettel.

Seb saw the hesitation, the doubt in your eyes. He leaned in gently, and after placing a short but tender kiss on your lips, he spoke again.

"I know I don’t have to do this, but I want to," he assured you.

You swallowed hard.

Sebastian was serious. It wasn’t some bad joke like many other guys had made in the past. He really meant it.

"Okay," was all you could say.

Sebastian’s smile lit up his face.

"Great, princess. I’ll see you at seven-thirty here tomorrow. And I know it’s not necessary, but I have to remind you: please, don’t you dare being late."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you opened the car door and stepped out, a smile forming on your lips like never before.

Then, you hesitated at the door, but you were ready to, for once in your life, stop trying to be so perfect.

"Goodnight, Seb," you said softly. "And... Thank you. For everything."

"Sleep well, best teacher in the whole world."

You walked toward your building, and when you were inside, you turned around to see if Sebastian had left. To your surprise, he was still there, making sure you had entered safely.

You both waved to each other, and as you climbed the stairs to the fifth floor, you realized that, for the first time, the anxiety about tomorrow wasn’t paralyzing you.

Instead, it was tomorrow, alongside Sebastian Vettel, what were making you feel alive.

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finalfrontierpublishing · 29 days ago

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parallelogram. / 1861 c.100 s.60 double feature

by deniiqig / qigiined (@deniigi)

Huzzah!!! i am freshly back from the Renegade Retreat and boy am i hyped after a relatively long hiatus from binding. it was amazing to be able to meet internet friends in person, as well as be able to engage with people i've never really talked to but known of from the server. it was a great experience and i was so nervous going in because social anxiety can really do a number on me but it was really hella fun, 10/10, no notes, would 100% recommend to everyone.

i've been so busy since my trip to Japan in may, so i haven't had time to update, but this would be one of the books i made for @celestial-sphere-press.

THIS BIND HAS A STORY because Des has been pspspspsing me into things. we have a book exchange and i have owed her a book for a while. she had said she'd like anything obi-wan focused by deniigiq, BUT. BUT. what she really wanted was the mpreg fic. guys, i usually avoid pregnancy like the plague. it just squicks me out. but Des sold it as the tapeworm pregnancy fic so i said FINE I'LL READ IT.

this is the exact same "But hey, Nic, it's written so well, and this is the context that's very different from the traditional interpretation" that got me into reading ABO, y'all.

Guys, it did not disappoint. I had so much fun that I decided that hey, it's mpreg SO LETS COMMIT TO THE BIT.

Some stats as usual:

55023 words // 228 pages

Body text: EB Garamond

Accents: Voga, Gill Sans MT

I had to remake the textblock once cause i forgot the powder step in painting the edges the first time and the pages stuck together and tore. i guess it ain't too bad cause i decided to do suminagashi edges for the second try. Though there were minor fuck ups, probably because i didn't clamp it enough or i dipped it in for too long- the pages warped but by then i was like jkl;sdkl;sdfkl;'dfskl;sdf ugh it will become a book i don't care. the edges thankfully did turn out very nice with the orange and black.

For the cover, I've been in my cut-out phase for a while and ok i really wanted a fucking foetus on the cover, i just had to. the fic deserved it.

i got some helpful advice from @pleasantboatpress who suggested i layer more boards because i was initially worried about the boards being too thin as the top layer provided barely any support and these 1mm boards tended to warp a lot from the strength of the cloth when glued to it. See the pen marks on the curve above the belly? i read through the fic at least 10 times when i realized it never mentions breastfeeding or tits in it. the boobs on the cutout had to go.

i'd say the biggest pain was covering the baby and the parallelogram in cloth. i think the baby alone took me 5 hours to cover and by the end of it i was like UGH I WILL PROBABLY NEVER MAKE THIS DESIGN AGAIN.

i had initially wanted to do a hinge design on the parallelogram because i had pasted some momi paper underneath it but i found that red cloth covered parallelogram also looked pretty outstanding on its own and since i didn't have any hinges and was on A Deadline, the hinge idea had to go.

endbands were done with japanese 9 silk, my beloved. i don't quite know where my endpapers are from, i found them in my stash and went huh, that'd work. same for the black bookcloth.

all in all, i think it's got a pretty cohesive look and it turned out great! i also had a great time giving it to Des at like a queue in Star Wars Celebrations while some chatty dude behind us was like, "is that a foetus?"

Why yes, yes it is.

Many thanks to @deniigi for writing such a great fic!

#bookbinding #fanbinding #renegade bindery #my books #fic binding #renegade bookbinding guild #star wars #codywan #obi-wan kenobi #commander cody #TCW #clone wars

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carmensbrain · 9 months ago

Note

Hi, how are you? I hope you are well :)

Can you write some headcannons About Simon Henrikson(cry of fear) being your boyfriend, how you met, what he thought of you before and these things

Thank you in advance :D

(sorry if it was bad, English is not my first language)

Hiya! I’m doing well thx for asking!!

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)🎀

(I have dyslexia and no proofreader so apologies for spelling errors!!)

Contains- a bit more angst than intended oops..

Rating- E for most brains

Warnings- none

Authors note- sorry if this is buns or I didn’t read your request right!

Fic starts below cut!

How would you meet?

♡ You first saw Simon at the freedom festival, he was sporting one of those black hoodies with text that was more than likely something so pessimistic it looked ironic, fitting for a metal music festival.

♡on the way back you walked alone, being the only one in your group who didn’t live in the area.

♡the train station was cold, dim, and strangely damp. It was far too late for anyone to be catching trains to school or work so the terminal was empty, a total ghost town, other than that boy again.

♡ a chilled breeze rushed through the tunnel as rain began to pour above ground, sending a shiver down your spine as you sat on one of the benches in the middle of the tunnel. The surface was colder than the air surrounding you, making you regret choosing to wear a tshirt for the festival.

♡ while you were wallowing in your unfortunate outfit you hadn’t noticed that the boy had moved to sit on the other end of the bench holding a grey hoodie out to you.

♡ “uhm… are you sure?” You ask, tilting head to look at the boy, something about his hair messily strewn about his forehead and tired eyes made you feel grateful you hadn’t gone with a jacket today.

How would a relationship go?

♡ at first it would be difficult to get him to open up or reciprocate any physical contact but he made it known that he cared for you by taking you out around the town, usually ending in you two sitting on the roof of your apartment building talking about your week.

♡ when he would initiate physical contact it was in small doses. He enjoyed holding your hand in his while walking at night, his cold skin being warmed by yours. Brief hugs would show him that you truly did care, slowly warming him up to letting himself smile.

♡ he was overwhelmed at first, feeling undeserving of the love and care you gave him. He was terrified that you wouldn’t really love him if you knew about his problems so he kept quiet for the first few months.

♡ he did eventually confess what he was going through to you, hands shaking as he struggled to get the words out. To his surprise you didn’t leave, didn’t chastise him for his weakness, didn’t even make a face, you simply pulled him into a tight hug while telling him that it will be okay and that you’re happy he told you. He stayed like that for the rest of the night, falling asleep against you on your couch, his mind finally letting him enjoy the moment.

#Carmen’s brain🎀#simon henriksson x reader #writers on tumblr #writeblr #fanfic requests #fanfic #simon henriksson #cry of fear

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cheriewoo · 9 months ago

Text

Sweet Like A Cherry| Kim Hongjoong ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

☆☆ NOTE : I want to take a moment to apologize for any confusion caused by the overlapping scenes in my fic with @ja3hwa's dilf series. It was never my intention to cause any misunderstandings or plagerise her beautiful works. She has been a huge inspiration to me, and having read her fics in the past, I realize that some ideas may have stuck in my mind while writing this one.

I've worked hard to change those scenes completely and take the story in a more mysterious and mafia direction, which I had initially planned.

Also, a big thank you to @whatudowhennooneseesyou for helping me recognize the similarities and pointing me in the right direction. I truly appreciate it.

I hope you can overlook this minor mistake and continue to support me as I move forward. Your love for my work means the world to me!

Thank you and sorry again @ja3hwa

☆ Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 11 : Age Gap, Dilf

↬ [ Synopsis ] : A birthday fling with Hongjoong takes a shocking turn when you realize he's your dad's best friend and he's hiding some dangerous secrets. Now, trapped on a family yacht, your growing desire for him becomes impossible to resist, unaware that someone has been watching both of you closely.

☆ Word Count : 2.4k ☆ Genre : Smut. Some Plot. ☆ Pairing : Dilf!Hongjoong x F.Reader [ Park Y/N, Seonghwa’s daughter ]

☆ ☆ ☆ WARNINGS : Dad’s best freind Joong. Joong is on the run from someone. Stalker-ish, someone is watching you both closely. Mutual Masturbation, but reader is unaware of him watching her. Cum play.Mentions of alcohol.Nipple play.Dirty thoughts and fantasies. Pet names (honey, baby). Sir kink. Hongjoong is in his late 30s and he is nasty while reader is only 23 (Oopsie, but enjoy). Mildly Noncon (no permissions were asked).

Tag list OPEN! - let me know if you want to be tagged for this Kinktober list

“Cheers to 23!!!” all your friends screamed as tequila shot glasses clunked together, celebrating you. You had just turned 23, and what better way to celebrate than throwing a huge party at Havana, the finest club with the best cocktails and liquor in town?

Your dad, Seonghwa, had suggested a birthday yatch trip, butyatches you can do anytime, your dad owning a big private one. You can’t celebrate your 23rd with all your friends in town just whenever, so you politely declined, asking to postpone it for another day. But there was one more reason as well.

Your friend group has a tradition, kinda stupid, but spicy. The birthday girl has three tasks for the evening:

First, drink the Havana exclusive, El Fuego del Caribe, a signature cocktail known for its fiery blend of rum, chili-infused tequila, and a splash of tropical juices.

Second, engage a stranger in conversation and buy them a drink.

Third, get a picture clicked while having some kind of fun together, the kind of fun you can decide.

Being the least experienced with relationships in the friend group, this turned out to be a daunting task for you, especially the third one.

Anyhow, this birthday girl pulled them all off.

The intense yet exciting task list started with you approaching the bartender, plopping yourself at the bar, and winking at him. That’s how you ask for Havana’s exclusive, and when he winks back, consider your order taken. That was easy, first task, done!.You downed the drink at once, your friends watching from their table. The alcohol burned your throat as it went down, sweet and spicy with a sour aftertaste.

Now, time to catch a stranger for a fun night. As your eyes wandered around the club, checking out some sexy guys, you spotted this man eyeing you from the other end of the bar. You threw him an alluring smile as you studied him. He looked to be in his late 30s, well-built, with a left brow slit, tattooed arms, and to seal the deal, a very inviting devilish smirk. An overall yummy demeanor.

Let’s go with him.

He came and sat down next to you, and a very engaging, flirty conversation swooned you both into a small bubble of your own. You learned his name was Hongjoong, and that he had just come back into town after almost a decade in the States.

Hongjoong was captivated by you the moment he took a sip of the drink you bought him. Your charm, the way you carried the conversation, and just how beautiful you were, it all aligned perfectly with what he desired in a woman.

After hours of talking and throwing back shot after shot, things were a bit hazy for him, but one thing was crystal clear: he was hooked. He flirted shamelessly, and you only encouraged it, turning playful teasing into something more when you grabbed his arm and led him to the private room, ready to check off the last item on your list.

Ahhh… the fun you both had.

—

Waking up with a throbbing headache, you vaguely remembered being dropped off at home by your friends, Hongjoong’s face flashing across your mind as a smile crept up.

He was perfect. But there was a teeny tiny problem, you couldn’t remember what exactly you both did, or if you actually took the picture.

Feeling a little sad that you might not see him again, you walked into the living room where breakfast was being served, only to see a familiar face. Hongjoong, sitting right there with your dad in the living room, deeply engrossed in conversation.

Why is he here? Did I drag him back home? Why are he and Dad talking like they're best friends?

As you nervously approached them, their eyes landed on you. Hongjoong’s face paled, the blood rushing from his face as his eyes widened, mirroring your nervous expression. He recovered himself quickly.

“Ahh, Y/n! You’re up. Hongjoong, meet my daughter. Y/N, this is my best friend Hongjoong, he's finally back from the States after almost a decade,” Seonghwa introduced, oblivious to the fact that you two had already met.

“Hello, Y/n.” Hongjoong said, his voice firm, almost neutral, but with a tiny smirk on his lips as he extended his hand for you to shake.

“Hi, nice to meet you...umm...” you took his hand, unsure of what to call him.

“You can call me Hongjoong.” he assured you, his grip firm, sending jolts of electricity through your body. Pulling your hand back slightly, you went to sit at the breakfast table, sneaking glances at Hongjoong from time to time, his gaze reciprocating with equal... intensity?

Wow... I slept with Dad's best friend? Why the hell can’t I remember what we did last night?

“Y/n, about the yatch trip. Why not turn it into a little get-together?” Seonghwa asked, to which you slightly nodded. “Hongjoong, you should join us too. My princess is 23 now, and you're back after so long. We should catch up with all the boys, and you need to meet their kids as well.” he announced excitedly.

Damn. This is going to be the end of me. The thought crossed both your and Hongjoong’s minds.

—

The yacht was big enough to fit everyone who showed up, which was a relief. There were plenty of activities and services, so the trip seemed like it would be fun. Luckily, even with the crowd, you managed to get a room for yourself. After the chaos of your birthday night, some alone time was exactly what you needed. Now, settled in one of the small but cozy rooms at the back of the yacht, you finally had the privacy you wanted.

The only problem? It was right next to Hongjoong’s.

Night fell, and everyone retired to their rooms. Hongjoong stood on the deck, the memories of that night still fresh in his mind as he glanced at the photo you had taken on his phone during the heat of the moment. When he met Seonghwa the next day, he had no clue you were his daughter, he didn’t even know Seonghwa had a daughter, let alone a beautiful twenty-three-year-old one.

But what will they do about this? Will they try to harm you for being associated with him? Are they here, watching him and you?

~ your birthday night ~

The music was in sync with your heartbeat as your eyes locked with Hongjoong, his devilish smirk igniting desire and not helping with the wetness building down south. Leaning in close, your breath hot against his ear, you whispered, "Let's go somewhere private."

Making your way through the sweaty mush of drunk people on the dance floor, you led him to a secluded room. The door clicked shut as you turned to him, slowly unbuttoning your top, letting the fabric fall from your shoulders. This was your kind of fun.

Hongjoong’s gaze darkened as you grabbed his drink, took a sip, and spilled it down your chest. The liquid covered your skin, trailing down your boobs, giving them a glistening look that made Hongjoong’s mouth water.

"Clean me up, sir." you teased, watching his eyes burn with desire. That “sir” in your angelic sweet voice had him down bad for you.

Without hesitation, he pulled you by the waist, your body crashing into his, sending sparks through you. He lowered his head, his tongue flicking over the trail of alcohol on your skin, his large hands busy squeezing your ass. You gasped softly, your hands tangling in his hair as he licked and sucked your nipples, and Hongjoong sucked hard, releasing the nipple with a pop sound.

"Tastes so sweet, like a cherry, baby." he said, continuing his licks.

The sensation, his words sent sparks through your body, as he was busy cleaning the remnants of liquor off. His mouth was hot, his tongue teasing, tasting you in a way that left you craving more, needing more. You gasped, tugging at his hair, the heat between you rising.

Adding to the moment, you reached for your phone, accidentally grabbing his and snapping a picture, interrupting the moment. "Oops, wrong phone," you smiled at him innocently. "Will you keep it for me, sir?" Your innocent request earned an amused smirk from him.

"Only if you promise to see me again." Hongjoong teased, smirking, the tension between you far from over and only left you both craving for more.

Was he regretting that night? No.

He definitely felt a connection, an intense one, the first time he laid eyes on you in Havana. Your playful, banter-ish conversation was a gentle push toward those unannounced feelings his heart was welcoming, and the night in that private room definitely sealed the deal.

He was more curious about what was going on in your mind.

But knowing your feelings might open a can of worms that he wasn’t ready for.

And if they found out about your associations with him... What would they do to you?

As he walked back to his tiny room, almost as if his prayers were answered, soft moans caught his ears, halting him in his tracks.

"Joong... aa... I need you," you moaned, your fingers rubbing against your dripping cunt, trying to relieve some of the ache, your back to the door. The whole evening had been tense with Hongjoong in your vicinity, and it took everything in you not to jump his bones. But...

Why has he been distant? Is he avoiding me? Does he not want this? What’s his deal?

Pushing those questions aside, you focused on the pleasure, recalling the night of your birthday. The way his tongue moved on your chest, the way he sucked your tits—it all felt so vivid. Suddenly, everything felt hotter, thick drops of sweat coating your forehead despite the air conditioning set to its coldest.

Hongjoong, watching you pleasuring yourself through the glass door of the cabin, curtains slightly pushed aside, was torn with dilemma, as he’d definitely felt someone watching him the whole evening.

Should I go in? She definitely wants this... She does feel something, right? But what if they find out?

What if they come to this town looking for me? Will Y/N’s life be in danger? Will they come after her too?

"Joong, please... touch me, sir..." you whimpered, your fingers rubbing harder against your cunt, waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your left hand squeezed your tits, the same ones Hongjoong had once covered with sweet kisses, unaware that you were being watched.

Hongjoong’s dick hardened at the mouthwatering sight, forming a tent in his pants. Shit, he needed release, and he needed it now. His hands automatically went to his clothed member, touching and rubbing, trying to soothe himself.

Checking to see if the hallway was clear, he pulled his throbbing cock out, hoping to relieve that ache, even just a tiny bit, as your moans provided music to his ears. His mind took him down the rabbit hole where his dirty fantasies lived, away from the world. Your taste still fresh in his mind, his pace quickened. The idea of bending you over and fucking deep inside, with his girthy dick exploring your insides, was something he desperately needed to happen.

He covered his mouth as dangerous groans threatened to escape his lips while his hand worked on his throbbing cock, rubbing ferociously. His eyes flicked to you—the sight of your lips between your teeth, eyes tightly shut, sweat dripping off your face—pushed him closer to the edge.

Your fingers quickened against your cunt as you rubbed harder and faster, breathless moans leaving your lips, traveling to Hongjoong outside the door, pushing him over the edge as he came hard in his hand, slick dripping down his legs. Your fast movements also pushed you off the edge as you came undone on the fluffy sheets.

Hongjoong and you both breathed deeply, trying to recover from the intense high, and just when the timing couldn’t have been worse, he heard footsteps approaching, heading toward your rooms at the back of the ship.

To save both you and himself from getting caught, he entered your room, causing you to freeze at his sudden entrance, all your actions coming to a painful stop. Your face turned cherry red. Embarrassed.

Was he watching me this whole time? Fuck! Fuck! I even called his name out loud. He definitely heard that... Fuck my life! Your mind was a mess, embarrassment taking the best of you as the older male stood in front of you, wet stains in his pants showing that he had cum.

"Y/N, stop... someone’s coming," Hongjoong said, warning you about someone approaching the back of the ship. "Pretend you’re sleeping," he added as he gently laid you on the bed, tucking you under the covers. He quickly hid behind the door, the room dark enough that no one outside would see him there.

The footsteps came to a halt in front of your door, lingered for a few moments, then walked away.

Who could be up at this time of night? Hongjoong thought to himself. Ah, probably one of the kids. He decided to check to make sure the path was clear, and to his surprise, no one was there. Hmm... was my mind playing games with me?

“All clear,” he announced as he turned towards you, hand still holding the door knob, ready to leave. He took one final glance at your sleeping figure, about to step out.

“Are you gonna leave me already, sir?” your voice dripped with innocence as you sat up on the bed, propped on your knees, looking almost like an angel fallen from heaven. A request Hongjoong so desperately wanted to fulfill but couldn’t, as his eyes flicked to the window behind you, a red cross plastered on it.

Shit! Are they here already? Is this them telling me they’re watching me?

I need to get out of here, and fast. And I need to make sure they don’t harm her, he thought to himself.

“Sorry, angel,” he said, gripping your cheeks and pecking your lips. “I can’t put your life in danger.” He lingered there for a second before backing off and leaving the room, disappearing into the darkness.

What did he mean by he can’t put my life in danger? Is someone after him? Why the fuck did he have to kiss me... if he has no intention of being with me?

What is going on, Joong? What are you hiding?

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

DISCLAIMER: This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #]hongjoong fluff #hongjoong fic #atz #atz smut #kinktober 2024 #shixcherie

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it-happened-one-fic · 11 months ago

Text

Come My Way - Silver

Author Notes: So, this was certainly a thing. I started writing this after the Diasomnia chapter while listening to AmaLee's cover of "Come this Way" from the Inuyasha anime and it kind of spiraled from there. I decided I'd play with the entire red string of fate thing despite it being rather heavy-handed in terms of romance since Prefect and Silver have some interesting ties within the storyline which I have considered writing an analysis of for my analysis blog. (plus I do find the red string of fate to be quite romantic at times and it was a nice tie in for all the other Inuyasha stuff) I came back and edited this fic to the original version of the song "Come" that is seventh ending theme of Inuyasha. All in all, the fic ended up long, but I still found it intriguing enough to post since I didn't have a fic in particular planned for this week. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender neutral reader /sfw /fluff /some drama /romance /spoilers for Diasomnia chapter

Word count: 2584

Fated love was something that seemed to only occur in fairytales. An amusing thought for someone from the country of the fae to have. But to Silver, the idea of meeting someone he was fated to be with despite the many obstacles life could hold was beautiful, but also rather improbable.

Especially when he considered his narcolepsy.

It was almost like a fond dream, perfect and wonderful, until he awoke and the dream was shattered.

And yet, when he first saw you, Silver felt a glimmer of something akin to recognition.

But he knew, for a fact, that he had never met you. There was no way he could have since you were from an entirely other world that was supposedly devoid of magic.

So Silver had initially shrugged that strange sensation of familiarity off. Deciding that you probably just had one of those faces that looked incredibly similar to someone else’s.

But he’d still wanted to get to know you. Out of curiosity, if nothing else.

The mere idea of even meeting you soon seemed to be perfectly impossible, though. Because it was like the world itself was endeavoring to keep the two of you apart.

And maybe it was. You weren’t from this world, and, if Silver thought logically about it, perhaps it was best if he didn’t talk to you.

Maybe he didn’t need to let whatever this pull was that seemed to draw him inevitably towards you have its way. After all, if he were already so intrigued by you without talking to you, then he didn’t see how it could get any better once he did get to know you.

And then, if you did as you no doubt wished and went home, he would be left alone.

Alone and empty, he feared, if the sensation that he was close to meeting someone beyond important to him that swelled within him every time he saw you was anything to go by.

Initially, he’d kept his thoughts to himself. Better that way, since he didn’t want to bother anyone else with the strange, foreign feelings. But when he started seeing you in his dreams, always distant but ever present and seemingly unreachable. That was when it had gone on long enough.

Lilia had smiled at him amusedly when he’d explained the strange sensation that he knew you despite having never met you and the urges he felt to speak to you. To get to know you.

It was as if the ancient fae had already known, and he even nodded like he was completely unsurprised as he’d spoken. His tone oddly pleased, “I had wondered if this would happen. They do remind me of you, after all.”

Silver had felt his eyes widen at his father’s words before he shook his head in confusion, “How are they like me?”

Lilia had laughed aloud at his son’s words, rubbing Silver’s head like he was still a small child as his eyes gleamed with amused fondness, “Why, you’re both diligent, reserved, good children. Humans who don’t judge others by their race and who are capable of forgiving even the greatest of evils. You both serve as a sort of light within the darkness to the hearts of those you touch.”

Silver had felt himself smile, shaking his head at his father’s words but knowing better than to deny what he’d said. Lilia had always doted on his son, and even if Silver didn’t agree with the image he painted, Lilia wouldn’t accept his refusal.

Lilia had sat down next to Silver on the bed, his eyes narrowing with amusement, “Let me tell you a story from another land far, far away.”

Silver had focused on his father’s words, frowning slightly in determination to remain focused without falling asleep.

“In the same land that holds the great Loong dragons, there is a story of a red string.” Lilia had spoken in a soft voice, the one that always lulled Silver to sleep but also held the greatest of secrets.

“No one knows what spinning wheel weaves this string; perhaps it is the wheel of life itself. But legend has it that this thin strand of red ties you to your fated one.”

Silver had nodded, not surprised by the contents of the legend. It was much like other stories that revolved around fate, but he tilted his head nonetheless, “A single string seems an odd choice for a tie that binds.”

Lilia had nodded, giggling slightly before he continued, “It is, isn’t it? But that fragility hides incredible strength. Just like how love can seem fragile, but can weather even the greatest of storms, this single thread of red string is strong. No matter the distance, time, or circumstance, it will remain strong.”

He’d blinked, his pink eyes gleaming in the darkness like some sort of omen. A subtle reminder that there was more to Silver’s father than met the eye as he finished, his voice dropping and having caused Silver to still ever-so-slightly, “Perhaps it could even stretch across worlds, should fate will it.”

With only those words, it became beyond clear what Lilia had met when he’d started his tale and how it connected to Silver’s trouble with you. Silver had shook his head slightly, smiling softly, as he’d realized what Lilia was doing. It hadn’t the first time his father had teased him about romance.

“Father, I don’t think a thread of legend is what is causing me to be fascinated by Y/n,” At Silver’s words, Lilia had nodded. Smiling to himself, like he knew a secret that no one else knew anything about.

Lilia’s hands had found Silver’s, and the ancient fae had looked down at his son’s hands, calloused from the use of the sword, as his own rough thumb had slipped over his son’s pinkie finger, the smile on his face spreading, “Perhaps not… Perhaps not.”

The days wore on, and Silver had thought very little of the discussion he’d had with his father, even as you remained an ever-present thought in his mind.

And then he’d finally interacted with you.

It had seemed more like an accident than anything. A small blip in the plans of the world as time itself had seemed to slow around the two of you, and you blinked at him in quiet surprise before you smiled.

It had been a very brief interaction, with you almost bumping into him in a doorway as he’d started to enter a classroom. You’d backtracked quickly, laughing slightly as you apologized and moved out of his way even as he’d assured that there was no problem and that he should have been paying better attention to where he was going.

And after that, Silver had found himself bumping into you more and more. Spending time with you between classes. Waking up to find you sitting next to him, like you were protecting him. Before long, he was even walking you back to your dorm.

“Silver, it seems you’ve befriended the Child of Man. You’ve been spending quite a bit of time with them,” Malleus’s smile had been beyond smug as he greeted Silver one day when Silver had only just gotten back from walking you to Ramshackle dorm.

Silver had blinked at the prince’s words, half-startled, before he nodded, “Yes, Y/n and I have been helping each other with classes.”

It was strange, in many ways, to use an evasive remark when Silver had known he hadn’t been doing anything wrong, but something about the way Lilia had smiled at him from around Malleus. His large eyes, narrowing with amusement as he looked at his son, that had Silver faltering.

“They are quite charming, aren’t they? It seems they have won over most of the school by now,” Malleus’s fingers had brushed across his lips as if he were trying to hide the amused grin that stretched across his face.

But his words were true. Silver seemed to have been the last one to reach where you were, and now that he’d been standing next to you, he’d noticed something.

You worried about and for those around you. A little bit too much, in fact.

Silver suspected that was why you’d wound up in so many situations, to the point where you were something of a celebrity within the school. One that was either hated or loved depending on who you spoke to.

But you went out of your way to help those around you and did your best to keep up with your peers, even though there was no way you could truly succeed in the magic-related classes.

It was like you were running from something and using everything to distract yourself from whatever that thing was.

And perhaps that was why Silver hadn’t been surprised when he’d found you asleep on your couch, where you’d passed out before he’d shown up to study with you.

The fact you had been asleep wasn’t odd; you’d been falling asleep during the day more and had mentioned not sleeping well at night before. What had been concerning, though, were the marks of dried tears on your face that had caused Silver to frown as he’d knelt down beside you.

Because that was what he had been worried about even then. That you weren’t letting yourself rely on others and were instead pushing yourself to support everyone else and avoiding your own problems.

For someone who’d been magically transported to a world that wasn’t your own, you seldom mentioned your home and took a surprising amount in stride.

He’d remembered how you’d looked when Leona had overblotted. Grimly determined and afraid. But Silver had suspected that fear had been less in regard to your own potential injury and more for Leona himself.

He hadn’t said anything, though. Silver knew when someone didn’t want to talk about something. But he also knew that if you ever needed him, he would be here. Right by your side and waiting.

You hadn’t come to him with your troubles, though. Instead, you’d bore them in silence all the way up until shortly before Silver’s entire world changed.

That day, you’d been different.

“Y/n, what is it?” You jolted from your fidgeting motions, as if Silver’s soft voice had startled you, and you’d looked at him with wide, almost fearful eyes that had caused him to frown.

You’d relaxed, though, something that he’d wondered about even then. Was it a natural reaction or forced?

“I… I just feel like something’s going to happen,” Silver had tilted his head at your words, so unlike how usually laid-back you were.

“How so?” You’d met his gaze as he spoke and kept his voice soft and carefully controlled as he’d leaned forward and towards you.

“Do you believe that dreams can sometimes predict things?” Silver had felt his eyebrows raise at your words, and at first he’d honestly thought you were teasing him. But a single glance at your expression, worry-filled as it was, had told him everything.

“Fa- Lilia has spoken of prophetic dreams and people who can see things before; why?” You’d nodded at his words, looking away as if you were deep in thought.

And after a brief moment, you’d looked back toward him. A forced smile sweeping across your face that was nowhere near as natural as the one you usually wore.

Your hand had found his, surprising him slightly as a tingle had seemed to shoot through him at your mere touch as you’d spoken, your smile softening as you’d seemed to reassure yourself, “I just hope everything stays like this.”

Your words had lingered in his mind, playing on repeat like an omen, until the day had come when Lilia told him he was leaving.

That was when everything had shattered, and suddenly, somewhere in the back of his mind, Silver had wondered: Was this what you’d been worried about?

He hadn’t gotten a chance to ask or even see you until after everything had happened.

Lilia’s farewell party had come; Silver had confessed everything about his feelings and frustrations to Malleus, and then Malleus had overblotted.

Silver knew he was lucky, though. Lucky that, in some small way, you’d warned him. And lucky that the very moment he’d fallen asleep, he’d known something was amiss.

It had been subtle, but in the midst of the slightly off, too-perfect world that was his dream, he’d felt it. A gentle tugging at his pinkie finger, like a thread was wrapped around it, was being pulled.

The sensation sent a jolt through him, and Silver turned, his eyes widening as he caught sight of a bird trailing a strange rainbow light. And then he knew what was wrong with everything that surrounded him.

Where were you?

If this were a perfect world, you’d be here. And the fact you were missing was why he’d felt so empty. Because you were nowhere to be seen. Almost like you’d never existed.

Light seemed to flash around him, like stars guiding him forth as he ran forward, chasing that rainbow bird and following that invisible thread that seemed to pull him onwards.

It was a sensation he recognized and was familiar with. He knew who lay at the end of this path, even if he didn’t fully understand what was going on.

Somehow, someway. You were calling him, even if you didn’t know it.

Silver had vowed very few things in his life. To defend Malleus, to care for his father, and to protect those dear to him. And finally there was the silent, unspoken oath that now pushed him forward from behind, as the promise of your presence pulled him onwards. The oath he’d made with himself to stay by your side.

It was a selfish oath that he’d made without entirely realizing it until now.

Instinctively, he closed his eyes as he burst forth through the edges of his dream and into the corridor of dreams that would lead him to you. And he saw something he’d never seen before.

Something he now suspected his father had seen a long time ago, all those days ago when he’d first told him about that legend about fate and threads.

It was a thin red strand, so fragile-looking, but pulled taut as it connected him to something further down the invisible path before him. And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, where that thread would lead him.

So he ran. Shouting your name even as he burst forth into a new dream. One filled with inky shadows as it crumbled to pieces around you.

“Y/N!!” At his shout, you looked up. Your eyes wide from where you stood in the center of the collapsing dream, clutching Grim to you.

“S-Silver!” You faltered, having to stop yourself from stepping towards him as you slowly ran out of space to stand in as Grim yowled something that came out garbled in his distress as Silver reached out to you.

“Hold on to me! Both of you,” There was no hesitation in your motions as you grabbed onto his hand, and he wrapped an arm around you as he pulled both you and Grim up against him.

The words of his spell held new meaning as he spoke them with you at his side, “To the person I met someday, to the person I will meet one day….” He glanced down at you, now knowing that you were that fated person.

“Meet in a dream.”

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ivysangel · 1 year ago

Text

I am dead serious when I say that you guys need to start giving writers feedback more often. I have a fic here that has a total of 4015 notes and only 218 aren't likes. So, let me break this down for you a bit.

Of 4015 notes, 186 are reblogs and 32 are comments. Two reblogs, as well as comments, are mine so I'll subtract them from the equation making the total number of notes 4011 (184 rbs, 30 comments, 3,797 likes).

Of the 184 reblogs, 16 are private, meaning they're absolutely useless in spreading and sharing the piece. The remaining 168 consists of 136 reblogs falling under "other reblogs" while only 32 fall under "comments and tags." And of the 32 under "comments and tags," only 9 have something besides a copy of the tags that I included in my initial post.

The 184 reblogs make up 4.6% of the total notes, the reblogs under "comments and tags" make up 0.8% of the total notes, and the reblogs under "comments and tags" with anything besides tags copied from the initial post make up 0.2% of the total notes.

At one point, I reblogged the post, asking if anyone wanted a part two. That's when I got my first comments. The first 6 comments were in response to that, and of the 30 total comments (excluding my own), only two were unrelated to a part two. Which means I can guarantee that I wouldn't have had that many comments had I not posed the question of a sequel fic.

And if I add those 2 comments to the 9 reblogs, I get 0.3% of the total notes on my post that make up the portion of notes that aren't likes, empty reblogs, or comments about a part two. And that's me being generous because two of the reblogs actually do mention a part two.

I also posted a poll asking what people wanted in part two, and that poll got 238 votes. That is 54 people more who voted for what they wanted in a part two that didn't reblog or help push part one.

Don't get me wrong, I love seeing people in my notifs liking my posts, but sometimes it's just not enough. It is utterly exhausting waking up to multiple hundreds of notifications and not seeing a single person compliment your work. You guys will like stuff, follow, and then head straight to the inbox asking for more. I know it's been said a hundred times before, but we are not machines; we do this for free in our spare time.

The post in question was written when I was tired out of my mind, and I ended up not liking it, so I let it sit in my drafts. I briefly mentioned it on my blog and was met with one of my followers showing interest in the idea, which prompted me to revise, edit, and post it. It was a gift, as are all fics and pieces of art by writers and artists on this site, and yet it was treated like a commodity.

When people say it's unmotivating they're not kidding. When I had 100+ asks in my inbox, all of them being requests, I felt like I had the worst case of writers block known to man. I would open my inbox and immediately close it because the idea of posting anything knowing the only response would be more requests, was awful.

When people leave little messages in the tags, full-blown commentary, or kind messages in my inbox referencing posts, I feel more motivated than ever. Those responses are what drives me to write more. But when I, and other writers, are being treated like we're here to cook up whatever fantasisies you have in mind, I can't help but side-eye a little.

We wouldn't write if we didn't enjoy it, but the moment it feels like a job, it becomes that much less enjoyable, and then everybody loses. Just send a kind message to your favorite writers every once in a while. I promise it'll make their day.

I would also like to say that as I've written this, I've seen more people like that post. So, there's that.

#i hope this makes sense #it's 5 am and i haven't slept yet #★ just yappin ★

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b4tasquad · 2 years ago

Note

omg you should do a niko fic where they meet during a video and he couldn’t stop flirting , which confused everyone since he doesn’t do it much in videos

Authors note: a small one til I finally find the time to write something between spending time with my family on vacay🤷‍♀️😪

Warnings: cussing ig

…

“Ladies first.” Once again the guys are left shocked as Niko continued to treat you like you were a saint, unfairly put in a room with immature adults. Chunkz and Aj looked baffled at each other as the taller boy puts his hand around the back of your seat, and leans closer to whisper something in your ear. In their many years of knowing and working with Niko, they had never witnessed him be so… flirty.

When you had initially been invited to a beta squad video, you were thrilled. Not only did you love their group dynamic, but you were also a really big fan of their content. You weren’t unknown, if your millions of followers had a say in it, but being recognized and asked to collab by some of the biggest people on the internet was humbling.

While you were often calm, collected and could socialize very easily, today was a little different. In a room of all very famous men, there was no such thing as arriving relaxed. You were terrified, akin a little girl starting a new school. Upon meeting them though, your worry was quickly washed away. They were incredibly nice while introducing themselves and had a comforting thing about them that instantly made you feel better.

The video you were filming was for one of their most known series and today it was ‘Guess the Influencer’ seeing as you were an influencer, guessing who had the same lifestyle as you wouldn’t be too hard. Or you had thought.

Niko watched with a teasing smile as you wondered who to vote out. To begin with, Aj who was sitting on the other side of the table was supposed to vote someone out, but as he got ready, Niko interrupted him.

“Y/n should go first.” When Aj threw him a look of both disbelief and spite, Niko continued, and you guessed it was to redeem himself. “Since she’s a guest and all.”

Aj hadn’t looked too thrilled, but just shrugged, ultimately not putting up a fight like he usually would. But now, as everyone awaited an answer, you wished he’d gone before you.

“Fuck I don’t know who to pick.” At your words, all of them let out a laugh, Kenny’s obviously being the loudest. “Shit.”

Like little school boys, the guys continue to giggle over your choice of words. Hearing you cuss shouldn’t have had them this appalled, it had become kind of like your trademark in the industry after all, but seeing it live made it all the more funnier. Niko who still chose to stay close to you, leaned even closer to you.

You kinda figured that he was flirting with you along the way. If his gaze and words didn’t make it clear, his urge to stay close to you did. First, you had tried to be professional, but as his efforts became more frequent you couldn’t help but submerge yourself in the feeling of being wanted. You weren’t dumb enough to pass up an opportunity to flirt with Niko Omilana of all people.

“I’m voting contestant 2” If the guys heard him, Niko knew they’d never let him live it down. One thing was flirting with someone, but being so blinded by desire to cheat was something he’d never hear the end of. So with that knowledge, the Omilana made sure they couldn’t hear.

To them, it just looked like he was saying more flirty things. “Niko stop distracting, Y/n.”

Chunkz took a hold of Niko’s neck, pulling him back to sit straight. With a grin, he let himself be pulled, hands raising in surrender as a little chuckle escaped his mouth. “My bad.” He didn’t hold any remorse at all.

His stare was hot on you as they all waited for an answer. From the contestants to the beta squad, everyone was eager to get to the voting part, and were waiting for you to start.

What had possessed you to say it, you didn’t know. But as you looked at Niko after your words left your lips, his smirk and cocky expression showed everything his mouth didn’t tell.

“I vote contestant 2.”

#niko omilana #beta squad #✭b4tasquad speaks #aj shabeel #chunkz #sharky #king kenny #fiction #youtube

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pixies-and-poets · 2 years ago

Text

Smithy Gang Headcanons

Hi, friends! I'm extremely grateful for the positive feedback on The Forging, and definitely want to write more SMRPG stuff; I've just been working on other priorities lately. However, my brain has been busy churning stuff over, even if I haven't had the time to sit down and write a story yet.

So I wanted to jot down some of my headcanons for the Smithy gang, specifically the forging order of the main members. I thought of a sequence where Smithy created each as a response to shortcomings he saw in their predecessors. This timeline will serve as a framework from which I can write future stories.

I don't think there's anything here that goes directly against canon, but I'm not as much of an SMRPG expert as I am with some other games lol, so feel free to tell me if there's some kind of Japanese-only line that contradicts me. Also let me know your own ideas if you want!! I am new to being a proper fan in this fandom :P

First, some general notes: I don't really have a good definition for who Smithy himself is, where he came from, or what his world is like, and I don't know if I ever will, since I find some degree of ominous mystery to be more interesting. Also - while I've seen the Gang described as "robots", while that may be true in a sense, I think of them more as "constructs" - I don't think they're powered by wires or circuitry or anything like that, but rather arcane magic. They are not powered by AI, even in the sense that a more nuanced and self-aware robo-sentience might be (see examples in the Marioverse: TEC, Beep-0, JEANIE), but a more traditional type of consciousness/soul that Smithy has learned to work with, as if it were yet another material. (This isn't abnormal for the Mario world, where we already have living bullets and bombs and the like- and in an ironic twist, also makes them somewhat similar to Geno, who is a consciousness inhabiting a form that would not produce sentience or mobility on its own.)

This isn't really a fic, although it's long enough to be one, lol. I hope you enjoy!

First there was Exor; but Smithy did not create him. In fact, Exor was Smithy's beloved blade, the reason for his obsession with living weapons in the first place. But Exor is a being even more ancient than Smithy, who just happened to bond with him in his lifetime. The sword can grow to a massive size, and is never truly destroyed, but will reappear and reforge itself throughout history. The otherworldly creature that attached itself to Exor and brought it to life has been known to some as the Neosquid.

Now Smithy, in a sense, was his own first experiment - gradually replacing his organic parts with malleable metal, not only to extend his own life, but to make himself more suited for a variety of purposes. This was a process that never really had an end, as he was always experimenting, creating new heads for himself. But when he was satisfied enough with his initial efforts, Smithy sought to create life in his own image, and in the image of his beloved Exor. Among other adventures, he spent time in Subcon, the Land of Dreams, studying the enigmatic nature of consciousness - at least enough so that he could harness some of its unfathomable magic for his own ends.

Boomer was the first of Smithy's prized creations (yes, because I like the idea of the one called "Boomer" being the oldest). Originally created to provide a sort of companionship to Smithy in the form of strategic advisory and being a bodyguard- and also to provide friendship, although Smithy would never admit it. Over time, Smithy became distracted with his newer and flashier works, and grew tired of Boomer's overly serious and staid nature. Though their relationship has grown distant, Boomer's fondness, gratitude and loyalty for his creator has never faltered, and he will defend Smithy to the very last of his existence. In turn, Smithy has never put forth plans for machine-made Boomers- the younger creations speculate it's because he's too outdated a model for this to be worth it, but perhaps it's because even now, Smithy considers him irreplaceable.

Bowyer was the next-forged. Smithy sought to make a commander who represented a long-range weapon, to contrast with Boomer's katana; and also a more creative and inventive personality to offset Boomer's traditionalist and unadventurous nature. When Bowyer was born, Smithy found that he had accidentally gone way too far (in his opinion) in this new direction, leading to a creation that was so erratic he refused to even speak like those around him. Smithy found Bowyer a hard-to-control troublemaker who would rarely listen to him (or Boomer) and seemed unhappy most of the time, not fitting in with the world he had been forged into. Bowyer would also leave arrows all over the place, sticking out of random things in the weapon world - this is when Smithy had the bright idea to create arrows with consciousness, so they could return to their leader on their own. To Smithy and Boomer's surprise, Bowyer became a lot more joyful and content when he met his little Aeros, and they all became an inseparable entourage.

Smithy became creatively blocked while trying to think of his next big project, largely due to the stress of Bowyer's early behavior. Instead, he came up with a number of smaller-time minions, some of which were the Shymores, based on the Shy Guys he had observed during the time he had spent in Subcon. The Shymores were a playfully destructive group, and after seeing Bowyer's happiness with the Aeros, Smithy decided to forge a creation who was destined to be a leader from the outset; and also one with a mischievous streak, yet toned down from Bowyer. And so he made Claymorton, who later called himself Mack. He was a beloved leader to his rowdy group, but perhaps too social- he ended up neglecting his own training, preferring to play and mess around with his friends, and thus never became very strong on his own.

By now, Smithy was growing frustrated by the failures and flaws that he saw in the personalities of his creations. He decided to think extra hard about the character of his next project: this would be someone who could work completely independently - brilliant, shrewd, capable of powerful magic spells and illusions. Yet Smithy made sure to write in an unflinching loyalty to himself into the new creation's code, so to speak. And lo: at first Speardovich seemed everything Smithy could have ever wanted. Proud, powerful, but knowing his place. He needed no minions, and thus was never distracted, as he could split his own form and consciousness so that one being could do the work of many. He might appear to be older than Bowyer and Claymorton, but in fact he is technically not; he was just created from the outset to be more mature, with the moustache to prove it. And yet, over time, the cracks in this personality began to show. Speary was pompous and did not get along with the other creations when necessity called them to work together. And his respect for Smithy manifested as simpering; a begging for praise and attention which the smith found increasingly unbearable. He was always coming up with unasked-for ideas and input, such as: perhaps all the machine-made units could take the name of a spear in a different language, and "speardovich" could be their overall model name, and that he quite liked Yaridovich for himself personally, and perhaps it would be alright if- but no, Smithy would have none of it. While at first he had beamed with joy at this newest creation, he soon enough kept him at arm's length (or spear's length?) as well.

Finally, Smithy hit upon a brilliant idea - his next creation would be a group of (mostly) equals who could depend on each other without a major power imbalance, keep each other entertained, and stay out of his hair. The Axem Rangers were born, all bearing an energetic and youthful personality which they are still yet to grow out of. They were given control of the Blade, and sent to scout various worlds. They often picked up slang and brought home entertainment from the places they visited, and developed a countless number of inside jokes. The other commanders, and especially Smithy himself and Boomer, found it hard to keep up with them. However, Smithy considered their existence a big success, and remained very proud of them- although this might be due to the fact that he ended up not having to interact with them that much.

...So, that's what I have for now! I'm not sure where all of the Factory enemies fit into this; based on their descriptions, I think Clerk/Manager/Director aren't creations of Smithy, but are the same species as him and recruited from his homeworld. Same with the Chief, aside from possibly not being the same species. Smaller minions like jabits and the hammers would be produced at various points that aren't super relevant to this larger narrative. Count Down was probably made as a fun side-project when Smithy wanted to take a break from weapons per se, and see what he could do with an object like a clock. Gunyolk was confirmed to be created by the Chief. And Cloaker and Domino are weird outliers; I want to say they would be among some of the first things Smithy made, or the latest, in some kind of more abstract and experimental period.

Again - let me know your thoughts and ideas!

#super mario rpg #smrpg #fan analysis #fan theory #smithy gang

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shellkissed · 5 months ago

Note

could you maybe write a brody or jason fic where they either get matching tattoos or one of them surprises the other with a tattoo for them or either initials or something please? and/or maybe the other cast reacting when they see lol

Authors Note: yes ofc! this is superrr cute!!

Matching Tattoos

Jason Schmidt x fem!reader

The night after the show had ended, the cast gathered at their usual hangout spot—a cozy bar not far from the theater. Laughter filled the room as everyone unwound from the energy of another performance. You sat at a corner booth with Jason, nursing a drink, as the two of you chatted about the day’s rehearsal.

Jason was unusually quiet tonight. He kept glancing at you, then looking away, his hand running through his hair.

“You okay, Jase?” you asked, tilting your head. You’d known him long enough to sense when something was off. “You’ve been kinda… off tonight.”

He shifted in his seat, still avoiding your gaze. “Actually… I’ve been thinking about something. Something kinda stupid, actually.”

“Nothing’s stupid if it’s on your mind,” you said with a soft smile, leaning in. “What’s up?”

Jason hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “You’ve always had my back. Like, always. Through the show, through the stuff with the cast… You’ve been there for me, and honestly, I think I owe you something.” His voice trailed off, but you caught the sincerity in his tone.

“What do you mean? You’ve done plenty for me.” You reached out, putting a hand on his.

Jason met your gaze, his eyes serious now. “No, I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo for a while—something to remind me of what really matters. And… I want to do it with you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, like—what do you mean, ‘with me’? Like, you want me to get a tattoo with you?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah. Matching tattoos. I mean, it’s not exactly the most original idea, but… I dunno. Feels like it’d mean something, y'know? Something that shows we’ve got each other’s backs—always.”

You blinked, not expecting this at all. “You want matching tattoos? Seriously?”

Jason’s face flushed a little. “Yeah, I know it sounds cheesy. But we’ve been through a lot together, and I figured, why not? We’re family, right?”

Your heart warmed at the sentiment. Jason wasn’t one for overly sentimental gestures, so this hit harder than you’d expect. “Okay. I’m in. Let’s do it.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few hours later, you and Jason found yourselves sitting side by side in a small tattoo parlor. The needle buzzed in the background, the air thick with anticipation.

Jason turned to you, a nervous but excited grin on his face. “This is really happening, huh?”

You laughed softly, adjusting in your chair. “Yeah, it’s happening. You sure you’re ready for this? I’m not exactly known for making good decisions.”

Jason chuckled, brushing his hand against yours. “Same here, but I think this one’s gonna be worth it.”

The tattoo artist got to work, and soon enough, both of you had matching tattoos on the inside of your wrists—a small, minimalist anchor with intertwined initials: “J.Y” and “Y.J.”

It was simple, clean, but it held meaning. An anchor, symbolizing stability in the chaos, with both of your initials marking the bond between you.

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The next day at fight and lift call, you and Jason walked in, arms slightly sore but proudly showing off your new tattoos. You tried to keep it under wraps, but of course, the cast was quick to notice.

Emma was the first to speak up, spotting Jason’s wrist and raising an eyebrow. “Hold up,” she said, stepping closer. “Is that… is that a tattoo? And, wait… is that an anchor?”

You and Jason exchanged a glance, and Jason grinned. “Yep. Matching tattoos. Thought it was time.”

“Matching?” Barton chimed in, looking at both of you now. He tilted his head. “Wait, wait, wait. You two got tattoos together? Like, together together?”

You nodded, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah. You got a problem with that?”

“Definitely not,” Kevin added, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, I never expected you two to get all… sentimental on us.”

“Hey, it’s not sentimental,” Jason shot back, a little defensive. “It’s just, you know, us. We’ve been through a lot. I wanted to do something to show that. Simple as that.”

“Simple, huh?” Tilly snorted, crossing her arms. “That’s definitely not what I was expecting out of you two. I thought maybe you’d show up with matching leather jackets or something.”

“I’m not that dramatic,” you joked, rubbing your wrist. “But honestly, it’s not a big deal. Just a reminder that we’ve got each other’s backs, right, Jase?”

Jason smiled, his usual cocky demeanor softening. “Exactly.”

“But—” Renni piped up, his eyes wide with mock excitement, “Does this mean we’re all going to start getting matching tattoos now?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll leave that to you guys. Jason’s the only one I’m willing to do this with.”

“That’s right,” Jason said, grinning. “She’s stuck with me.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you two are like the definition of ‘ride or die.’ It’s cute. Kinda scary, but cute.”

“Oh, please,” Melody teased. “At least we know you’re not gonna be fighting over who gets the last donut anymore.”

Jason chuckled, his hand bumping against yours as the teasing continued. “We’ve been through worse. This? This is nothing.”

The group erupted into laughter, and the lighthearted teasing didn’t stop. But you didn’t mind. You were used to it by now. What mattered was that this moment was shared—between you and Jason, and with everyone who had become family over the past few months.

“Alright, alright,” Brent said, still grinning, “but I think we need to make a rule. If you two are starting a tattoo trend, the rest of us better get first dibs on who gets to do the matching with you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s just us for now, Daryl.”

“Yeah, but I’m putting in my claim,” Evan said with a laugh. “I’m ready to get something cool.”

Milena rolled her eyes. “Let’s just get through today’s stuff before we start discussing who gets what ink.”

As the group continued to banter, you and Jason shared a quiet moment, both of you looking at the tattoos on your wrists.

“Good call,” you murmured, touching your tattoo softly.

“Yeah,” Jason said, his smile growing. “Best decision I’ve made in a while.”

And in that moment, with the familiar warmth of the cast surrounding you, you knew—no matter what happened, you’d always have each other’s backs. Inked, or not.

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Authors Note: bello😋

#the outsiders musical #x reader #jason schmidt #sodapop curtis #jason schmidt x reader

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