#But... I want them to go on mysteries together...

[seventeendeer]

as a fat person who's always clamoring for more interesting fat characters in media, I honestly think one of my all-time favorite depictions of a fat character is Jumba from the original Lilo and Stitch - both visually and personality wise

from a design perspective, even though he's an alien, he has so many little anatomy quirks that make him a more believable fat character than many fat human designs in other media. I love the realistic sag and layering of the fat on his arms, the lack of neck definition, the rim of chub around his face and upper back, the way his back is rounded. his clothes pull taut and pinch in anatomically accurate places (e.g. shoulders are firmer = smoother outlines, the sides and back are squishier = bumpier outlines).

and he's stylized so well! all these great details boiled down to some simple shapes and pen strokes. IMO the Lilo and Stitch art style is extremely appealing - it's warm and clean and visually pleasing, but every character is super unique. Jumba isn't supposed to be pretty, but even though he's a very large, very fat, bald older guy who spends most of the movie in crop tops, the way he's stylized and staged makes it clear the audience is supposed to find him interesting to look at, and variably intimidating/cool/powerful/capable. he's often funny, but the physical aspect of his comedy is derived from being so hefty the other characters struggle to prevent him from barreling ahead and doing whatever he wants; being fat makes him come off more in control of the funny situations he gets into, not less. also, because the art style is what it is, a lot of his character acting also just makes him look kind of cute ... though that's universal across the cast

I also really like the fact that his size clearly gives him both realistic advantages and realistic disadvantages. along with having a stronger sense of agency in the comedic scenes, his size in combination with his impulsivity also makes him a more intimidating antagonist. you never know what he's going to do, and his size makes it difficult for other characters to stop him when he's made up his mind. at the same time, it seems to take him longer to catch his breath, he sometimes grunts when moving around a lot to imply it takes more effort, and he clearly struggled to find clothes that fit him when putting together his disguise. I think it's awesome that the character's size impacts how he interacts with the world so much, and again, in relatable ways

and personality wise, it is ALWAYS great to see fat characters portrayed as intelligent - not only is Jumba an accomplished scientist, he's also crafty and witty! a few quiet scenes imply a philosophical side, as he ponders on Stitch's existence and feelings as a living weapon. with Stitch explicitly being made in his own image to an extent, I'd argue there's even room to interpret some of the things he says about Stitch being hints to how he sees himself; we never learn much about Jumba's past, but it's clear he's a social misfit and strongly defiant. I don't think it's a stretch to assume some of what he said to Stitch about being a monster who can never belong anywhere was intended to read as projection (which makes it all the more heartwarming when both of them find a place to belong on Earth)

it's also a nice twist that toward the end, Jumba is the one who is unexpectedly compassionate toward Nani, while Pleakley tries to urge him to ignore her. again alluding to a level of emotional depth and intelligence that is often missing from even well-intentioned depictions of fat people. his character isn't even fully explored, and yet he's one of the most dynamic and interesting supporting characters in a movie full of fantastic characters. the audience is expected to find him fascinating and even sort of mysterious, and he is!

the sequels and spinoffs were more merchandise-driven franchise fluff for kids than the artsy direction of the original movie, but even so, I remember Jumba went on to become Lilo's lovable, amoral uncle figure, which I also thought was so fun as a kid. I love that they committed to the fact that he was more caring and compassionate than he seemed. not only was he a cool evil mad scientist character, but he was also eventually ... a friend ...

and he was even gay

[trh0d3s]

Manager in the making!

Part1! After the prologue 😈

Saja boys x human manager reader

The morning light floods the living room waking you up from a good ass dream you were having… it was definitely not world domination via conquering the agency and kicking bobmagatron 2000 the man child in the face! No…Definitely not...

The regrets of last night’s fridge raid hitting your stomach and your wallet.

You sit up on your couch kicking a half empty can of soda that was dangerously close to your foot onto the floor.…on your phone! “ah shit-“Cursing more awake than ever you throw your blanket on the wet spot trying dry up where it got on your phone. This happened once but with grape juice and you missed a call from an employer which ended up getting you fired and passing your opportunity to someone else. Picking up the precious object with your poor blanket checking over it before turning it on. A sigh of relief it still works! Ok, maybe it’s still broken cause that can’t be a reply to one of your ads…?

You walk to the kitchen in your one-bedroom apartment eyes glued to the screen in both shock and horror mindlessly bumping into the chairs and small dining table to make it to the coffee maker. It was from craigslist…the one you hesitating to put up, you heard the stories from there and REALY don’t want to manage some kink or underground drug ring...

It’s all you got right now so if it’s something weird just turn tail and run! Maybe report to the police too if it’s the drug ring route. You punch in the buttons for the coffee to start brewing not too keen on drinking 2-day old coffee you left on a hurry to a company meet and greet.

Fromk:Xx//Demonboy//xx@gmal.com

To:._____________@gmal.com

Subject: We need a manager

We have looked at your skills and are willing to pay a set price of your choosing for your skills to manage our start up boy band.

The mug misses your mouth reading through the email. Boy band? Was expecting something off from craigslist also what is up with that email? I know I was 13 once but as a professional email…?

This boy band consists of 5 members you won’t need to worry about money whatever you need or want will be given to you. If you agree meet us at this location/_________/ at 12pm.

Very vague and mysterious… that place is only a couple blocks down, a small square with various food stands around. Popular spot for weekends and popups. ”Weird…bit at least its public” You mumble mid sip at your coffee, looking at the time 11.:40…OK YOU WILL QUESTION THIS LATER. Dumping your drink in the sink you rush to your room to get dressed something professional casual for a good first impression. This might be potential kidnapping but if the off chance it isn’t you have to be ready to wow to dazzle and get that bank! Cleaning up your living room will be held off for later, you shove your feet into your shoes grabbing you keys and phone. This might be your chance! (What do you think of that L this is my perfect victory-! I mean who said that!?)

The walk to small square was short but loud everyone was buzzing about the new single that dropped last night. Thought the girls were supposed to go on break before the idol’s awards? Guess if you love your craft every break is too long.  Screens showing the countdown passed you, people huddling together on their phone staring at the screen with mumbles and squeals of excitement.  

Ok what would a group of boy band wannabes look like? Dressed to the nines or playing it lowkey? You pass a empty alley that branched off to only one shop the smell of earth and herbs making its way to where you were. Weird I don’t see a group of 5 waiting for me? Can’t expect them to hold a sign to pinpoint where they though...

“If this is a scam and someone is playing with me, I’m punching someone” Mumbled under your breath scanning the crowd, is it me or wasn’t there light behind me? I look off my phone in front of me what used to be the sun was blocked off by a wall...? “What the…he-Ack“ You were pulled into the same empty alley you passed with a yelp two hands tugging you in by the shoulders. A slender finger twirls you into a dip the two hands prior long gone you were going to fall but it was misdirected to…. this?!

You open your eyes to a jaw dropping sight a clear face looking down at you with no expression before pulling you back up your feet with a smirk. Like he was playing with you, amusement to your reactions shown on his face. Grabbing your bearings against the stone wall beside you the wall that was blocking the sun was actually....5 HOT MEN?!

Maybe you weren’t being lied to and craigslist decided to bless you with something not weird and dangerous! Your awestruck staring was cut off by what looked to be the leader stepping forward. “Your _____ right? Accepted my proposal as manager?” His voice was smooth and fluid like liquid like he was nudging you into the direction he wanted.

“Ah yes that’s me! Are you…” You look back to your phone to read out his email receipt. “xxDemon boy xx?...” Voice unsure to even be saying that aloud. He coughs into his fist slightly embarrassed as the rest of his group look at him in pure bewilderment or is it something else? The baby faced one of the group was just dead-on staring at him.

“yes… That’s me. But forget that my names Jinu” He cuts into the silence before addressing the boys behind him like they rehearsed this. “Abbey” At his name the man with short pink hair and very much not fitting shirt stepped forward striking a pose…How is he that big did he eat the other idols in training?  His shirt looked like it was about to break at the seams if he strikes another pose. Your eyes make their way down his form honing in on the 8 pack he’s showing off with zero shame.

Someone else stepped in front of him big heart shaped pink hair striking a pose before blowing a kiss in your direction. “Romance” Jinus voice behind you placing a hand on your shoulder momentarily distracting you as a blue hair enters your vision staring you down with a cool nonchalant look. “Baby” Ok little on the nose with these names…he just gives you a nod eyes set on a bored expression brushing his blue hair out of his eyes. “and that’s mystery” Jinu turns your attention to the last one in the group grey hair in his face covering his eyes but it felt like he was staring into your soul…

Was he growling or is that you thinking crazy with these majestic men around you? Jinu spins you around to face him as abbey holds mystery back from baring his teeth. “We are the Saja boys” This boy strikes his own pose before straightening up smoothing his shirt over. “And you will be our manager, yes?”

You can’t help but blink at them before going into professional mode, turning a complete 360, you can see the potential now. You are going to skyrocket these men!  “What type of boy band are you? What music are you aiming for? Synthpop, dance rock, artpunk? Y'all do seem the type for bubblegum pop.” You start shooting out different genres of music found in Kop in rapid fire. It surprises them how fast you can switch into the manager persona your destined to be. You start walking around the boys, analyzing them, stopping in front of mystery to stare at the mass of hair where his eyes are supposed to be, before moving on with a hum of approval.

Before Jinu can reply you raise a hand shutting him up already making the loop around the 5 freakishly tall and handsome men.  “I can work with this. Ok, I accept your offer I will be your manager” you say triumphally arms crossing over your chest with a proud grin on your face. This is your big break! Nothing will stop you from getting this boyband into top five! Bob won’t see what’s coming! Mischievous giggling erupts from you as you plot silently in your mind the proud grin turning smug.

“Really? You can’t take it back now you know” Jinu voices from beyond your plotting pulling up a paper from somewhere behind his back for you to sign you don’t think too much of it. Not batting an eye at the way it shimmered or seem to come from nowhere too lost in the fantasy of recognition from the agency that failed, you sign it on the dotted line.

“We want to debut tomorrow” Ok, that snaps you out of your daydreams the contract long gone.

“Tomorrow?!” You cough out face molding into to shock the boys could only smile at your thoughtlessness. You ran in headfirst at the first opportunity given to you common for humans, and they know that.

“Yea tomorrow or can our wonderful manager not do it?” Abby butts in, smugness lacing his words as he stepped forward pulling the arms crossed behind his head move. Was he trying to intimidate you with his muscles?

“Can’t be too hard for you right? Oh, amazing manager” This time it was baby that stole your attention eyes lidded with that same grin everyone was sporting, eyes no longer bored but focused directly on you. He leaned on mystery who continued to stare into your existence with a blank face that slowly turned into that same fucking smile!

You’re probably going to regret this in the long haul. Who fucking cares you’re going to live your dream! You’re going to make them the next face of Korea. No, the entire world!

You look at your phone to check the time before nodding and thinking, “I can work with 24 hours, give or take.” Yeah, nothing is going to stop this manager in the making!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Extra: :9

[galene-gothic]

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾’𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗            PAID SERVICES PATREON

SUMMER SALE ˖ TIP JAR

Note: In regard to their relationship with you.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

So, I wanted to see their pros and cons in relationship with you but I’m picking up on before the two of you get together here. I’ll just be pulling more cards to understand everything. Do you have a tendency towards possessiveness? Your future spouse is going to be highly capable of handling that. They’re going to be very communicative and quick to dissolve such issues by resolving them. You’ll receive quick communication from them often because they’ll know just how insecure you can get. They’re going to have a crush on you but will be quite shy when it comes to you. It’s like, they’ll be unable to process or express their feelings which is going to cause for the potential of the connection to not manifest initially but they’ll have a very innocent crush on you. They’re going to have similar childhood wounds to you or even if they’re not going to be similar, the triggers may be similar causing for a connection to come about naturally. Also, they’re going to be very good at manipulating you but not maliciously, it’s like, they’ll know the best way to get you triggered for you to activate and live out your potential, and you’re going to have a pretty good read on them so you’ll know what they’re trying to do but they’ll know how to make it come off unintentional and you’ll just let them get the benefit of the doubt xD. They’re going to be processing an ending at the time that you’ll meet them so they’re going to be scared of the unknown. I’m picking up on genuine wounds from them. You will enter their life in this time and they’re going to be a bit sensitive, and vulnerable at the time so it is going to be especially triggering for them to feel affection towards you because it will activate their childhood issues and more innocent, and delicate wounds making them even more sensitive and vulnerable.

So, they’re going to be scared of the unknown. They’ll be fearing the crossroads or struggling to make a decision due to the fear of pain as well because they’ll not yet have properly healed from past hurt as it is. They’re going to feel a strong tension with you and will have the ability to understand, and connect with you very soulfully. Like, you know those people who just get you on a psychic level? That’s how they’ll be with you but oddly enough, they’ll not be able to understand what exactly is coming through to them about you and you’ll remain a mystery to them. They’ll have their set of insecurities, worries and pain as we know by now but I’m picking up on the same energy from you too. For some of you, maybe they’ll not be the one who will have gone through everything mentioned above but you, but since I’m picking up on a shyness and fear of the unknown, and holding back from them. I believe that it will be mutual for many of you. You may be going through an ending or you may have not gotten over a past ending that caused you a lot of pain so you may be quite fearful of the future too and closed off to them due to your own wounds, and insecurities but it will be because of how vulnerable you’ll be feeling and how you’ll be worried about getting manipulated because you will be able to pick up on their manipulative tendencies, and how convincing they can be. Mostly, they’ll try out different techniques to help you so you’re going to give them the benefit of the doubt despite any resistance. When it comes to cons, you might remain friends for quite a while. Maybe because you’ll start off as acquaintances and friends, you’re both going to friend zone each other or they might friend zone you first, or you might feel as though they are doing so.

I find it so funny because ‘shy’ by Jai Waetford is the song that is coming through. They might not make much effort to spend time alone so despite the potential, you might feel like they’re a bit out of reach especially because they might come off very present. They’re going to seem present when they’ll be interacting with you but you’re going to feel like you’re getting mixed feelings from them. “Do they like me? Do they not like me?” Is the energy that I’m getting here. They might be a very busy person juggling a lot of responsibilities so you might not even bother them and for some of you, they’re going to have to make a choice because they might give too much priority to work and might not want a commitment yet or might not be ready for it or might literally have another love interest. You cannot stand feeling like an option so that is likely only going to slow down the process of things and make you more closed off to them but they’re going to feel really whole with you, as if they belong with you. If there is in fact, another person involved, I don’t think that their feelings for them would be even a quarter of the feelings that they’ll have for you but they’re going to have to awaken first, make a choice, judge things properly, choose to belong to you, choose to connect to you and that may take some time. You’re going to have the ability to have similar values but it’s like, you’ll also not. Due to timing, they’ll contradict and oppose your values, and you’ll not like that. You’re going to doubt your compatibility and values, and that will only make commitment harder. It’s like, despite the connection that you’ll share, you’ll rarely be on the same wavelength.

When you’ll want to talk to them, they might not want to do so, when they’ll want to talk to you, you may be in a bad mood, when you’ll want commitment because you’ll feel strongly towards them despite any fears, they might be unable to give you that and when they do want a commitment, and are choosing you wholeheartedly and are willing to take accountability, learn, and do better, you might be close to fully convinced that your values are too different and that you’re not compatible so you may not want commitment. I’ll start with their pros once you’re in a committed relationship with each other. They’re going to feel like they don’t belong anywhere. Like, even if they’re grateful to people for being there, they won’t feel that genuine, heartfelt, warm, familiar and family-like connection with them but they’ll do so with you so they’ll greatly value you. “My heart is not here without you (it’s no fun without you here), I can’t live without you.” They’re going to feel like home to you and they’ll feel at home with you. They’re going to need alone time but might overthink, create limiting beliefs, feel powerless and just overall struggle with negative thinking, and when they might take alone time, sometimes you might overthink but even when they’re alone or/and resting, they’re constantly going to be thinking about you. I’m getting that you’ll be the first person who they’ll think of when they wake up in the morning and the last person who they’ll think of before they go to sleep. They’re going to understand your sensitivity and will be extremely empathetic, and loving so they’ll create a very beautiful and loving relationship with you in which you’ll both feel really whole.

They’re going to feel strongly towards you and will support you heavily. They’re going to be contemplative and might spend alone time thinking about you so that they can do what’s best for you, and guide you. They’re also going to have many wonderful insights and thoughts. They’re going to create a very abundant relationship for you, one in which you can feel safe and happy, and free enough to share your fears, sensitivities and truly, and deeply love. When it comes to their cons, let’s just say that their charm won’t magically disappear so there will often be third party situations even though, they won’t be unfaithful. So, I’ve been getting this for a while now but they’re going to possess great communication skills and their vocabulary might be really good, and they’re going to be a real charmer. They’ll have incredible leadership abilities and that is going to cause others to feel a certain heat around them, it’s going to cause them to feel attracted to your spouse and that’s going to be a source of stress, and overthinking for you. They’re a very passionate person and with that comes impulsivity but they’re going to honour you as their divine counterpart so they’re not going to get engaged in or let any passion grow towards anyone else. They’re going to be very action oriented, a go getter and well admired so they’re going to receive tons of romantic attention but they’ll not feel passion towards anyone else, and they’ll have tons of integrity and will be too busy talk to anyone enough for things to grow as well.

They’re not going to change so they might give off the wrong impression by seeming open and curious to others. There’s a certain level of playfulness that I’m picking up on but it seems to be very innocent. They genuinely won’t be intending for things to be taken any other way. They’re going to seem very present to the people around them so others will develop feelings for them and might misunderstand things. It’s funny because most of them are going to be very ambitious so it may be difficult for them to give you time at times. They’ll have a lot of love for you but they’re going to be very busy as a person. Even so, some of them, they’ll tire themself out with work or still trying to manage and maintain the relationship properly so they’re going to contemplate things a lot, and might struggle with resting and might be forced into it. Another thing that I’m picking up on is that if it’s work that burns them out, they might feel really vulnerable, contemplative, overwhelmed yet apathetic about not being able to give you time. They’re also going to be very dominating, will crave truth and communication at all times, and will want to lead the relationship so that might lead to clashes but I still feel like they’ll do a really good job with it. Another thing is that they might demand clarification if you’re too busy or were too busy and you might not like it. I hope that you liked the reading. Thank you so much for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

So, I decided to pull ten cards each for the pros and cons in sets of five each, and guess what? For the pros, two of the same cards came out in the same position as they did previously i.e. the second and third card out of five cards. You might be the type to stress and get so paranoid that you genuinely start believing that your fears are true even if logically, you’re aware that they aren’t. One such fear and belief that you seem to possess is that your partner might not be over their past, might not have moved on from it. I’m not sure if you think this way already but you will in the future when you’re with your spouse and they’re going to alleviate your worries by reassuring you that that’s not true, and that they’re completely over their past. They’re not going to be blindly romantic. Some people are so in love with love that they become blind in it and do not really know how to love for real due to over romanticism but they’re going to be different. They’re going to believe in equal give and take in relationships, and will be incredibly service oriented. I’m getting that they’ll have been of service to people in the past and will have been on the giving end, receiving nothing at all so they will have developed deep trauma themself, they’ll have been paranoid too and might still be, and will just deal with fears, beliefs and thoughts that they’ll genuinely feel to be true but they’re going to want to heal this side of themself for you, and the betterment of your relationship.

They’re going to be seeking true peace by releasing negative thoughts, beliefs, feelings and habits. Due to how service oriented they’ll be, they’ll want to be with a giver who they can give to wholeheartedly with a feeling of safety. They’re going to not want to have to question the genuineness, feelings and love of the other person, and the connection that they share/shared with their significant other due to how they’re always giving, giving, giving without receiving anything for themself. It’s not even about receiving for them, it’s about the principle of it. Like, “this person is willing to and trying to do this for me, they might love me after all” and that causes them to feel safe enough to give as well, you know? Another thing is that because they don’t go around getting romantically involved with just anyone, they’re going to be incredibly obsessive when in love with you. Some people are charming and flirty, and know how to make their sweet and flirty words sound genuine but your future spouse is not going to be like that. Some of you might doubt the genuineness of their words but they’ll mean a lot of what they’ll say. Obviously, you’ll share sweet nothings where you might ask them something ridiculous like “would you still love me if I was a worm?” And they might say yes even though if you actually were a worm, they’d probably walk from on top of you, crushing you with the weight of their shoes with no awareness of it at all xD.

So, something like that, they’ll not mean but when they say something like “I’d die for you”, “I’d live for you”, “I’d kill for you” and “I’d do anything for you.” They will actually mean it. You’re going to pretty much consume them, they’re going to be addicted to you. I’m picking up on that Camila Cabello song ‘never be the same’. I’m especially picking up on the part that goes “just like nicotine, heroine, morphine. Suddenly, I’m a fein and you’re all I need, all I need. Yeah, you’re all I need. It’s you babe and I’m a sucker for the way that you move babe, and I could try to run but it would be useless. You’re to blame, just one hit of you. I knew I’ll never, ever, ever be the same.” Another part that I’m picking up on is “you’re in my blood, you’re in my veins, you’re in my head.” They’re going to be a passionate person and will feel passionately towards you. I’m getting that the both of you will maintain really good physical connections in which they’ll be really cooperative with you. They’re going to teach you things, in the bedroom and outside it, and are also going to learn from and about you so that they can experience your physical connection at the highest, and most passionate form possible. They do have a tendency towards moodiness though but I feel like you’d like it because it came out in the pros section. Maybe, they’ll be the sulky kind of moody or maybe you’ll also be moody.

They’ll be able to handle your moodiness due to their own tendency towards it. They’re going to be a fair and respectable person because they’ll be very respectful, and will treat people equally. I’m getting them being kind and of service in general, not just towards you, and that’s a pro because that means that it’s a character trait of theirs. Some of you sometimes think that you’re moody, intense, overthink and that you would overwhelm your romantic partner but you won’t have to worry about that with them because they’ll not just leave you. They’ll have a strong sense of direction for the relationship and will want to make it work as much as possible, and they’re going to be driven to put in the work. They’ll also be action oriented and a go getter in life itself, they’re going to have goals that they actively work on pursuing and their sense of direction, and drive is going to influence you to be the same way. They’ll teach you a lot but will also be willing and consciously look to learn from others, experiences, feelings, and situations. Their humility, drive, passion, attachment and love for you, willingness to do, willingness to learn, and ability to teach, all of it is going to be something that you greatly respect and admire them for. When it comes to cons, they’re going to really complex. They’re going to love you a lot and will be possessive of you. They’re going to be intensely in love with you and will be obsessed, attached, and addicted to you so they’ll want to be around all the time.

When they will feel jealous and possessive, they’ll become moody and guarded or moody, and clingy and usually the former will lead to the latter. They’re also going to contemplate a bit and will feel really dissatisfied, questioning the relationship, and if the intensity, love and loyalty is just one sided. The possessiveness will be very intense from their side and possibly from both sides. They’re going to know that they can’t control you but they’ll want to keep you hidden away from the world so that no one can look at what’s theirs. Obviously they won’t do it (hopefully not) but the feeling of possessiveness is going to be THAT intense. They may feel insecure about the stability of the relationship and the family, love, and stability you share if you receive any external attention at all so that is going to be a point of tension but it’s just that they’re going to be very happy and satisfied with you, and will simply just want you to feel the same way about them and your relationship with them. They’re going to be yours, completely and so, they’ll fear that you might not be as committed and devoted to them on a very soulful, and deep level. It is not just “I’m committed to you so I’ll not do anything to sabotage it” kind of commitment that they’ll want from you but the kind in which you’re completely inaccessible to others. They won’t want you to isolate yourself but if you’re in a heterosexual relationship and they’re the man.

They’ll want you to be friends with just women and not even let other men breathe near you. It is not toxic though. Like, I’m not sure how to explain it but they need to be the one and only because they want to devote themself to their spouse the same way, making them the one and only. “Other women? Who are they? Why would I interact with them? I belong to only one woman in every way.” They will not want a simple committed relationship, they will want a deeply devotional one in which there is a very apparent distance between you and other men, and you do not intend to close that distance because you fully belong to them and do not wander at all or even feel the need to have guy friends. Many of them will not mind male acquaintances as long as nothing flirty happens but if something even casually flirty happens, it is going to wound them deeply. People might often misunderstand them due to how intense they are and how deeply they love. Possessiveness and jealousy are really pure emotions, they come from a very pure place but instead of trying to understand that they want to find the space to devote themself to one person and one person only, people might write them off as toxic and possessive because they want the same for themself so it is coming through as a con. I hope that you liked the reading. Thank you so much for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

Your future spouse is not going to be too stuck in a routine or will make it flexible for you. They’re doing to feel like they belong with you and you’re going to feel the same way. They’ll create a safe and happy environment for you in which you feel supported because they’ll care about you deeply. Your relationship is giving off the energy of a devoted knight and a queen. You’re going to be their dream come true and they’re going to be genuinely happy in your relationship. They will be accepting of your differences and will be keen on making it as beautiful as they can. They’re going to enjoy being around you so much that they may break their routine to come and see you or might come, and see you even if they’re tired from working. There’s a big emphasis on quality time here. You know, when a queen asks for a knight to show up, he will show up in her court so when you’ll ask for them to show up, they’ll do so too (if they can). Also, acts of service. They’re going to do things for you without any proper routine. They’ll just do it even if the timing is off. For example, if you are pregnant and ask for them to bring you something at midnight. If you’re able to wake them up, they’ll get up and get it for you even if all they want is to be able to fall in the soft, warm bed, and drift off to dreamland. Basically, they’ll be at your service at all times. They’re also going to be quite observant and curious as a person. They’ll ask questions or observe situations and people closely as they will be keen on learning, not just from you.

They’re going to be mentally stimulating and will have their talkative moments that will strengthen your bond through strengthening of the mental connection. They’re going to see you as a grounded and mature person who’s also friendly, generous, and has a big aura but they’ll see that you are sensitive and struggle emotionally at times so they’ll deal with your emotions in a compassionate manner. You’re going to be a very loving and empathetic person, and will be able to suppress your emotions really well a lot of the times but when it gets too much, your raw side is going to come out and they’re going to try to tame it with love, empathy, and compassion. They’re going to have a lot of hope for the connection but they’re going to be putting you on a pedestal. It keeps on coming through that you’ll be their dream girl/dream guy or whatever. They’re going to have a lot of appreciation for the sides of you that are visible after you’ve stripped off i.e. when you’re vulnerably yourself and literally naked. They’re going to love your body in all its glory with nothing on. They’ll make you feel like a dream because that’s what you’ll be to them - a muse. “Cards on the table, we’re both showing hearts. Risking it all though it’s hard.” ‘All of me’ by John Legend. Even if they don’t create anything, you’re still going to be their muse. They’re going to try not to be egoistic and will avoid conflicts, will be very forgiving, and will try to make amends with situations. They’ll also be remorseful if they act egoistic at any point.

They’re going to want to create a space for you in which you don’t have to change yourself i.e. a space in which you still thrive, a space in which you’re still grounded, generous and warm, and don’t have to dim your light. They’re not going to be a stranger to heartache and sorrow. They’ll genuinely be worried about losing you. In the past, they could have been negatively affected by someone else’s decisions so that is going to be something that will have left wounds. They’re also going to feel remorseful, guilty and sad if they make you feel sad :,). Another thing is that, they might look through your phone or overhear something about you and someone else at some point during your relationship or/and marriage, and that could make them question the solidness of the relationship, causing sorrow. There could be someone that seems to be attracted to you so they might be worried that you could be attracted to them too, that you could feel more happy with them, that they might bring out a more happy and vibrant side of you or that you might impulsively do something with them, or even if you don’t, you could be suppressing the desire to. So they’ll feel sad about that. Now, onto the cons, they’re going to be delusional. What seems to be happening here is that they’re going to become controlling when they’re confused and genuinely believe that someone wants you when this someone talks to you a certain way or texts you. They’re going to lose their mind and will become very ruthless when such things happen.

They see you as someone with a lot of potential, someone who’s at the top and someone who everyone wants so they’re genuinely going to believe everyone wants you so they’ll get defensive due to confusion or because they’ll believe that you might not choose them. Actually no, they will want to be the only one, they’ll be mad that you even have another option. Even they themself will have many options so even they’ll have to choose between the potential to feel like the only one and their loyalty to you. They’ll love you but they’re going to be non confrontational and may not communicate until they absolutely cannot handle it anymore, and communicate in an overwhelming and aggressive manner. They’re instead going to contemplate, get nostalgic about old days, feel dissatisfied, might get distant, will have a negative focus and will feel bored, and apathetic too. They’re going to be really worried about the breach of contract, breach of fairness and loyalty so they might end up acting out in unfair ways themself. This can be avoided if you do everything in order to reassure them. They are going to need to feel like the only one. A monogamous relationship with complete devotion is very important to them and they’re going to be able to maintain it but if they feel like the relationship is not living up to their dream and ideal of monogamy, love, and devotion, they will start questioning everything. They’re genuinely going to believe that everyone wants you so that’s going to be a point of tension too because they’ll get jealous. I hope that you liked the reading. Thank you so much for reading, much love and take care.

[miareen221b]

How are they in a relationship? headcanons!! x fem!reader

(Umemiya, Sou, Sakura, Nirei (because that boy is oppressed in the community I swear)

AN: would've liked to write more characters, but I haven't finished season 2 yet nor read the manga so I don't know much about them to write their headcanons yet, so maybe after I do there'll be a part 2?

Umemiya Hajime:

•a true golden retriever •you can't convince me otherwise •has a verity of love languages •physical and verbal affections are examples!! •he LOVES to shower you with kisses whenever he can •or to hug you from behind •he'd compliment you on your outfit whenever he thinks they're cute/very stylish (which is all the time!!) •and on your makeup (if you wear any) •showering you with gifts is also another example!! •he'd get you gifts on occasions or even just because he wants to!! •be sure that you're the first one to try his garden's fresh corps •whenever a new plant is growing well he'd show you right after he notices it!! •even if you're not around he'd take a picture and send it to you!! •you can NOT convince me that whenever you two aren't with eachother he wouldn't text you and send you pictures about everything he's doing and happening around •he'd NEVER expose to any shape or form of violence •a bunch of thugs annoying you (they obviously didn't see him with you) he would fight the urge to kill them for looking at you and send them a silent threat with his eyes to fuck off or else and they'd flee away!! •an unexpected fight? As much as he just wants to stay with you, he still has duties so he'd leave you somewhere safe and go •you wouldn't even see him covered in blood and scratches!! He makes sure he's all clean before meeting his cutie pie!! •LOVES to call you nicknames and pet names!! •N/n, cutie pie, sweetie pun, honey, sugar, love you name it!!

Suo Hayato:

•a true gentleman!! (Mostly.. don't let his facade deceive you!!) •he LOVES to tease you (he'd stop when you get really annoyed but otherwise..yk..) •loves to cook for you and make you tea •afternoon teatime is a must!! •takes good care of his lady!! •when you're really tired after a long day he'd massage you (perhaps with a tease with him "accidentally" touching you somewhere he shouldn't) •or when you're emotionally drained he'd let you rest your head on his lap and play with your hair until you're feeling better!! (This is so cute😭) •definitely buys you a matching earrings to his to show everyone that you're his you're together •if a bunch of thugs annoyed you he'd definitely do just like umemiya (but scarier they might piss themselves while they flee lol) •isn't much of an online chatter as he prefers to be with you physically •but still, if you weren't together he would chat online (nothing is better than talking to you after all!!) •if he had a fight to go to, he'd inform you where is it so you wouldn't accidentally get hurt •dirty jokes loves to joke with you!! •buys you matching clothes to his (again, to show others you're his) •morning/good night texts guaranteed •will use his mischievous tactics to now your preferences to anything so he can always be perfect for you!! •randomly pats you on the head (he just thought you're cute)

Haruka Sakura:

•tsundere vibes •he LOVES you, really, he just doesn't know how to express it •and it makes him unable to sleep at night (you once noticed the black circles under his eyes a few days after you started dating and asked about it, but he'd never admit it so it's still a mystery to you) •he literally had to ask everyone for advice to ask you out (and still does after dating you, and they don't mind, they know this is all new to him and they're there for him for guidance they think it's funny and cute) •tries his best for you (literally) •Tsubaki_chan recommended him reading shujo manga so he could get some ideas •of course he read them (another thing he wouldn't admit though) •the next day you found him at your door, holding a rose bouquet blushing like crazy looking away stuttering to call you honey!! •but it was a great resource for date ideas!! •Would never expose you to violence (unless necessary) •so when a bunch of (you know the rest already, no?) he does kick their ass (he considers that "necessary" of course!!) •when he has a fight (if he knows of it before it happens) he tells you where it is, not to get near it's place (if he doesn't) he makes sure you're somewhere (or with someone) safe •is new for everything, take it slow!! •so when he wants to buy you a gift he went again to tsubaki_chan for help (it's tsubaki_chan so yeah..it was a really good gift!!) •99% of the times, m'boy is blushing (we know you like it!!) •isn't much of a texter too •but still, when you want to chat he'd try his best (canonically a slow texter) •if you asked him for morning/good night texts he'd always do them (anything for his love!!) •if something interesting happens, and he wants to show/tell you on your shared chat, he'd take time to but he'll eventually do it!!( Please praise him) •even tho he looks like a human tomato whenever it happens, but he does LOVE your physical touch!!

Niere Akihiko :

•a true cutie pie!! (No room for discussion) •is also another blushing mess (he's just glad you're dating him) •100% boyfriend material!! •he now carries two notebooks with him wherever he is (one is the usual one, and one only for you) •has anything noted about you in it (what you love to eat/drink, where do you like to get it from, favourite colour/s, your sizes, accessories style, makeup brand (if you wear any) yk, literally everything about you he has noticed or you told him IS there) •he also writes down shops and places he thinks you'd like so you can go together there sometime!! •best dates planner (has everything planned, from start to end (literally) •although when something happens that wasn't planned he freaks out (please comfort him, he's too cute to get stressed) •whenever he gives you a gift, yk it's good!!(It's always something you really wanted/needed, m'boy is always on spot!!) •you can go to him if you needed help finding something (he always knows where) •shy shy shy SHY!! •don't tease him, he's not sakura, his heart might actually explode!! •LOVES when you praise him (please pat him on the head too) •if a bunch of thugs (yeah yeah, yk the rest) he'd stand Infront of you and protect you (he might get a beating, but m'boy always stands up again) •while you clean him up, please be careful, he's already feeling weak and pathetic for not being as strong as others and incapable of protecting you so he might cry •whenever that happens, please hug him tightly until he calms down, he really needs it •after a bit of Suo's training him, next time that happens, he'd get a couple of hits, but he'd successfully protect you!!(PRAISE HIM!!!) •always has another one for you •unexpected rain? He already has two umbrellas •need wipes/tissues? Has them •need painkillers? Has them •need pads/tampons? Don't ask him about it, but he does have them •does look at your photos before he sleeps (he's thanking God you chose him) •always makes sure you're happy, safe and comfortable (like, ALWAYS!!) •please praise him

Another AN: I actually spent a day writing only umemiya and Suo, Sakura and Nirei were written so easily which makes me reconsider that Suo is my favourite or not lol

I'm considering taking requests, so maybe I'll make a requests post soon, and please do tell me what you think about the hcs, I always wanna know your opinions

[straykidsnerd255]

yeasgesdgyy

I love you so much !!!!!♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡(⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

So...~ can you do a headcannon for saja boys ( like all of them ) x solo flirt idol s/o Who really likes pop mart ( separately ) ... please

Awwwww! You are so freakin sweet! I love you too!!<3 Thank you so much for requesting, and I hope you enjoy these head-cannons! I definitely didn’t have Your Idol on repeat blasting in my headphones while writing this<3

Jinu:

We know how dorky this man is, so when he first met Y/n during a concert of hers trying to secure the honmoon, he noticed the way her voice filled his mind, drowning out the voices he so desperately wanted to disappear. 

What he wasn’t expecting was to lock eyes with her. Watching her lips pull into a smile as she moved closer to him.

Or the way her hand seemed to reach out towards him, drawing him closer. The moment he touched her hand, her fingers moved up his arm and towards his chin.

She held his face in her palm as she sang, her eyes going from that cute doe look to the look of a siren. 

His face went bright red when she backed away and winked at him. He had to run away or he would have steam coming out of his ears from how much he was blushing. 

When Jinu saw her again, she was standing in front of a pop mart, dressed in black sweats, and a grey hoodie. 

Walking over to her, making sure he would combust from being hopelessly in love with her, he gently tapped her on the shoulder. 

“Want to go in with me?” He asked, staring into the store. 

“Are you sure you are ok being spotted in a store like this?” She asked. 

Jinu shrugged and finally looked at her. His eyes widened at how even without makeup and all the lights, she was still beautiful.

After the time spent in the pop mart, Jinu and Y/n spent the rest of the day together.

When the day ended and Jinu walked her home, she turned around and took his hands in hers, leaned forward, and pressed a simple kiss to his lips. His eyes widened before he leaned into the kiss, a smile on his face.

Jinu totally asked her out after the concert. He’s too cute.

Abby Saja:

Abs and you have been dating since the moment he and the others of Saja Boys became a group. 

Yes he knew you were a human but something about your ability to love him even as a demon made his “heart” swell. 

He ignored every order from that point on. His arms were always wrapped around your waist when you were visiting his group, showing you off at concerts and signings. 

What he didn’t expect was for you to be a solo idol. The first time he heard your voice signing, he was hypnotized. 

He went to a concert of yours, (forced the rest of Saja Boys to go along too) of course he was in his human form but when you knelt in front of him, your eyes hooding to give off a siren look, he knew he was done for. 

Your flirty smirk appeared on your lips as your fingers brushed under his chin (One of his favorite things you do) and his body felt light. 

You get extremely flirty when on stage he notes when you start dancing in a way that he has never seen you dance before. 

On a rather hot summer day, you were practically tugging his arm and begging him to go to a pop mart with you, for what reason, he didn’t know. 

When he gets to the mart after breaking his resolve (He can never say no to you) he is immediately blinking confused. 

“What is this place?” He would ask, turning to you for an explanation but you are already staring at a little doll with stars in your eyes and the brightest smile on your lips.

You and Abs left the mart with at least 5 bags each.

Mystery Saja:

You are the only person that is allowed to see his face with his hair up. That’s how special you are to this man. 

In return, you told him everything about yourself, your fears, insecurities, your pain. If he could, he would erase everything that hurt you. 

The day the rest of Saja Boys were out scouting the different groups to see how they could destroy them, Mystery felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach when he saw you on the stage.

No one else around you, but your eyes held the power of three people to complete the golden honmoon. You looked absolutely stunning in his eyes. 

The moment you began singing, everything around him vanished. The voices in his head, the chatter of fans, the rest of Saja Boys. It was just you and him. 

Your personality on stage was a 180 flip from what he gets in everyday life. Your flirty on stage, your doe eyes shifting to a hypnotizing siren as you sing with the power of gods. 

He slowly makes his way towards the stage, his body moving on its own. Jinu and the others watch with wide eyes as you dip your hand towards him, holding his face with such care.

Days after that concert, Mystery is watching your every move. Your morning routine, the way you talk around him and the rest of Saja Boys. He wants to see if that personality from your concert slips out but it never does. 

“Why can’t you act all flirty like you did at the concert?” he suddenly asked everyone in the room. 

You turned to him and your doe eyes morph to the siren he saw that night. He swallowed as you moved towards him. 

Standing in front of him, you cup his jaw, a smirk appears just as fast as it disappears and your doe eyes are back. 

He never asked for your flirty nature again, he almost passed out from how long he held his breath.

When you took him to a pop mart, he understood why you hid that flirty siren-like personality when off stage. 

You and Mystery spent the day in the mart for hours before Saja Boys had to come and drag the two of you out of the store.

Romance Saja:

Romance was always labeled the “PlayBoy” that he didn’t take love seriously. Granted, it would have been true considering that he was a demon but when he started dating you, everything changed. 

The voices that lined his head disappeared. He felt like his life was finally his thanks to you. 

Jinu had said that they were going to a concert in a few days for a soloist that just popped up after Huntr/x took a hiatus for a bit and wanted to check it out. 

Thinking nothing of it, Romance shot you a text saying he was going to a concert and that he would be back late. 

The day of the concert, Romance and the others got there extremely early so they could be in the front row to see who the singer was. 

Their jaws dropped to the floor when they saw you, your once soft doe-like eyes narrowed like a siren, your voice booming around them. 

You danced like you had been trained by a dance god. Romance could only stare at the way your hips swayed, the way your voice sounded so good in his ears as you sang. 

Your eyes drifted them, your eyes becoming more of a siren as you walked towards the edge of the stage, your hand dropping towards Romance, your finger mentioning for him to come close. 

He did, not sure what came over him. He felt your hand press against his chest, your fingers dance over his throat before you gently but firmly grabbed his face pulling him even closer. 

He was surprised he didn’t actually faint right then and there. In his mind, that was the hottest thing you could have done to him. 

When you and Romance were walking around town a few days after the concert, he took you to a pop mart and watched your face light up. He smiled softly and followed you around like a puppy and got you whatever you wanted, with the promise that you will do the same thing you did at the concert to him more.

You were a mess when he asked for you to do that again, but you did, randomly, when he least expected it and as a result, you had to call the rest of Saja Boys to your house to help you get your passed out boyfriend on his bed so he didn’t wake up in pain.

You vowed to never do that again when he least expects it.

Baby Saja:

He was the least likely to get in a relationship but when he pushes open the door to Saja Boy’s dorm and introduces you as his girlfriend, everything goes into chaos. 

Your favorite spot to lay your head is on his chest. Baby doesn’t mind it in the least, in fact, he will just place his hand on your head and pull you towards his chest when he wants to feel your weight on his chest. 

Sneaking into a concert wasn’t ideal for them but they needed to figure out who this new solo artist was and why she was so strong when it came to getting the honmoon up without two other people.

Baby’s jaw dropped when he saw you on that stage, your doe eyes he fell in love with, narrowed to that of a siren ready to steal a soul. He noticed the theme of your song happened to deal with larger canines and that made him smile. 

You smiled, showing off the custom-made fangs and his heart thudded against his ribcage. 

Noticing him in the crowd, you smiled dangerously and motioned for him and the rest of his group forward. 

She pointed to 5 empty seats and returned to her performance, the honmoon glowing the brightest gold they have ever seen. 

Baby was entranced. He watched as your body swayed and moved to the beat of the music. How you seemed to be in your element as you danced. Your eyes holding such a flirty but gorgeous look in them when you looked at him. 

The ended with everyone, including Saja Boys screaming your name, tears falling down baby’s face as he watched you blow him a kiss before disappearing off stage. 

A few days after that concert, Baby always begged to see your siren eyes. Saying that he loved everything about them because they were a part of you. 

You agreed as long as he went with you to a pop mart. You both got what you wanted. 

He took you to the pop mart and bought you whatever you wanted, whether it was big or something small. 

You showed off your siren eyes more and watched as Baby would go absolutely bright red if you directed those siren eyes towards him when angry with him.

You both would sit and listen to each other's songs, don’t even get me started. When his group is on hiatus for a bit, he has your songs blasting through his speakers in his room. 

He would sing along to them or start rapping the parts that you rap.

He loves that you rap, just like he does. 

You caught him one time dancing to a song that was tamer than the others and couldn’t help but take a picture of him. It's your lock and home screen now.

Baby has you smiling with a butterfly that landing on your nose while lying in the grass as his home screen and lock screen. He loves you so much it's not even funny.

[zyettemoon1800]

Mystery SFW

..............................................................................................................................

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A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He is affectionate as a cat

Some days he only wants light touches like a quick kiss on the cheek or hold your hand

and other day, he wants to hold you like he is going to lose you and smoother you with kisses

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The friendship would start from to bumping into each other and dropped all of your stuff. You both pick it up in a hurry not realizing that some of the stuff wasn't yours.

Being nosy, you look through the papers and see how talented he is a drawing. You later find him and tell him how cool his art is and you two kind of just hit it off.

As a best friend, he is the quiet introvert that will say some weird out of pocket things when it's just the two of you. He will teach you how to draw.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He can be a cuddle bug sometimes.

He likes cuddling you when you both are laying down. When his past memories start to haunt him, he likes to be the little spoon.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He does want to settle down with you one day.

He is not a good cook, but he does clean up after himself

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Depending on the reason, he might just walk up to you and tell it is over.

F = Fiance (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

You both are locked for life.

He wanted to marry you after the first week of dating you, but his group advised him not to.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He is very gentle and caring with you

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes hugging you very much

He might hug you 5 -10 types a day not including cuddles.

His hugs are kind of cold though he is very gentle with you

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He wanted to say it to you after a week; however, he is very shy and fumbles every time he tries to say it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He doesn't get jealous often because he knows that you are not going anywhere.

However, if someone is trying to hit on you, he will walk up to you, grab your hand, and lead you away.

He is not afraid to throw hands.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His lips are slightly cold, but it still feels good.

He likes to kiss you on your head or neck, and he likes to be kissed on his face

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Maybe one or two little ones, he doesn't care what gender

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He likes to sleep in and would hold you tightly until he is ready to get up

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He usually plays a game with you watching him until you fall asleep or you both are just having soft conversation together.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He will reveal things slowly to you.

It's not like he is telling you different things about him, but you could find something in his room, or he is doing or eating something different and you talk about it

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He doesn't get anger often, but when he is annoyed or wants space, he will disappear or turn into his demon form.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers EVERYTHING you like and dislike.

Before you can even say what, you want, he already has it.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first day that you guys went on, because you both were so nervous and clumsy trying to impress one another.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is very protective of you, but he is not overbearing.

He lets you have your space, but he has no problem pulling you away from something dangerous.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He doesn't go over the top, but he does put effort into anything that has to do with you

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He will growl and bark at people when they get to close to you for too long.

He will also take long sniffs on you and he doesn't care who is around

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He doesn't really care. As long as you like him, he is okay.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, he hates it when you leave the house without him

So much so that when you come back from whenever you are, you see him curled up in his demon form groaning.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

A slight foot fetish

He is not nasty with it, but he does enjoy when you get your feet polish, and he does kiss them or rub them

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He is not a fan of loud noises or overly loud people.

He also doesn't like people who have a lot of drama and issues

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He is not a light sleeper, but he has a six sense when you try to leave the bed.

Anytime you move or try to leave the bed, he will wrap his arms around you and growl softly

[cheriecelestial]

Red Lights Pt.2

pairing *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ F1 driver!Jason Todd x fem!reader

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ angst. fluff. suggestive content. themes of mental health and depression. swearing. insecurities. non-canon complacent. jason is an idiot. not proofread.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ So here's part two. I didn't wanna split it but oh well. Requests are open so feel free to send them. Comment, Like and Reblog (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

comment to be added to taglist

Part 1

“Jason, I think you should see this.”

Jason’s brows drew together as Dick held up his tablet. On the screen was a Twitter post already gaining traction—photos of Jason in Venice. Not alone. Y/N was beside him in every frame, though mercifully, her face was either obscured or turned away. Only Jason’s features were clear, caught in candid moments of laughter or strolling beside her down cobblestone streets.

“It won’t be long before the tabloids catch wind of this,” Dick said quietly. “And once they do, you know how fast it spreads. So… is there anything we need to prepare for? A statement? Clarification?”

Jason stared at the images for a beat too long, his jaw tightening. “There’s nothing to announce,” he said, his voice low, laced with simmering anger.

This—this—was what he hated most about the life he’d inherited. The fame, the scrutiny, the constant invasion of privacy. People didn’t just watch; they obsessed, they speculated, they twisted everything into headlines and hashtags. And they never knew when to back off.

He pulled out his phone, opened the app, and found the same post. He scrolled through the comments. Some expressed harmless curiosity. Others congratulated him or gushed about how “cute” the mystery woman looked from behind. But the rest? Cruel. Jealous. Misogynistic. Disgusting.

He could already picture Y/N’s face if she saw them—how her smile would falter, how those bright eyes would dim. The internet could be vicious and if anyone recognized her, they’d tear into her without hesitation. She didn’t deserve that. Y/N was kind, full of joy, and effortlessly warm in a way that made the world feel easier to exist in when she was near. She wasn’t built for this toxic attention and she shouldn’t have to be.

Jason’s fists clenched at his sides.

They could say whatever they wanted about him. They always had. But Y/N? She was off-limits. Untouchable. And he would make damn sure it stayed that way.

Jason shoved his phone deep into his pocket, the screen still burning with the comments he'd been scrolling through—each one a fresh ember beneath his skin. The device felt heavier than it should have, weighted down by implications and what-ifs. Across the room, Dick's gaze lingered on him with that infuriating older brother intuition, the kind that could read silence like an open book. Jason hated it—being seen like that—but more than that, he hated feeling powerless.

“I’ll handle it,” Jason bit out, the words sharp enough to carve distance between them as he moved toward the door.

“Jason.”

Dick’s voice was softer than Jason deserved, laced with a caution that had been earned through years of watching headlines twist and private moments splatter across tabloids. The warning wasn’t judgment—it was experience.

“Just... be careful,” Dick said, the words measured. “You know how this stuff spirals. One photo turns into a headline, and the next thing you know, she’s being followed. Whoever she is.”

Jason froze mid-step, his spine locking. The unspoken implication hung between them: I see you. I see what this means. Dick didn’t press further. He didn’t need to.

“That’s exactly why I’m going to handle it,” Jason ground out, the promise rough in his throat.

A beat passed. Then another.

Finally, Dick gave a single nod—not approval, not surrender, just acknowledgment. Permission to go, if that’s what Jason needed.

And Jason did.

Because standing still meant thinking. And thinking meant admitting how much he couldn’t control—the press, the speculation, the way his pulse kicked at the thought of Y/N caught in the crossfire.

Jason’s thumb hovered over the contact for a long moment before pressing call. The phone rang twice before that familiar, graveled voice answered - the one that had talked him through contract negotiations and sponsorship deals since he was a teenager.

“Uncle Harvey. I need your help.”

The words tasted like ash in his mouth. Harvey Dent wasn’t who Jason wanted involved in this fragile, unnamed thing with Y/N. That honor should have gone to Alfred, with his quiet wisdom and endless patience. Or Cass, who understood the weight of public scrutiny better than most. But this wasn’t about introductions over tea—this was damage control. And when it came to protecting what mattered, Harvey was the most ruthless legal mind in Gotham.

On the other end of the line, Jason could hear the squeak of leather as Harvey leaned back in his office chair, the distant hum of Gotham traffic thirty floors below. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of decades navigating the Wayne family’s most sensitive affairs.

“Son, listen to me carefully.” A pause. The clink of ice in a glass. “You say you’re fond of this woman, but you don’t know how she feels about you. Or this situation. And with the championship rounds coming up?” A humorless chuckle. “It’s like pouring jet fuel on a bonfire.”

Jason’s grip tightened on the phone. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse office, Harvey watched a news helicopter circle the Gotham skyline - a reminder of how quickly private lives became public spectacle.

“Driver-presenter relationships aren’t unheard of, no. But let’s not pretend this industry has evolved since Clark Kent and Lois Lane.” A bitter edge crept into Jason's voice. “Unless your girl happens to be a Pulitzer-winning journalist with skin thicker than Lane’s and let’s be honest, you’re no ‘America’s Sweetheart’ like Clark was—she won’t survive unscathed.” The lawyer continued, his dual-toned voice measured.

Jason’s free hand clenched into a fist. He could already see the headlines: “Distraction in the Paddock?” “Is Wayne Racing’s Comeback Kid Losing Focus?” Worse, the vile comments that would inevitably target Y/N— questioning her professionalism, her motives, her very right to be in the paddock.

“So what’s the best course of action?” Jason ground out, hating the helplessness in his own voice.

Harvey sighed, the sound distorted by the scar tissue on the left side of his mouth. “You have three options, kid. One: you walk away now, before this gets complicated. Two: you go public on your terms, with every legal safeguard we can put in place. Or three...” A pause heavy with implication. “You keep this quiet until the season ends, and pray to God no paparazzi catches you two in a compromising position.”

Outside, the first drops of rain began to streak down Harvey’s windows, turning Gotham into a blur of neon and shadow. Just like the night half his face had been melted away by a rival’s acid attack. He knew better than most how quickly the world could turn on you.

“The clock’s ticking, Jason,” Harvey murmured. “But whatever you decide— we’ll handle it.”

We. The word should have been comforting. Instead, it settled like a lead weight in Jason’s stomach. While walking our of the garage, he caught his own reflection in the hallway mirror—jaw clenched, eyes dark with something too close to fear.

Y/N hummed softly to herself as she folded another sweater into her suitcase, the fabric still warm from the dryer. Outside her window, the afternoon sun cast golden streaks across her bedroom floor, illuminating the carefully curated pile of items she was bringing to Zandvoort—a notebook filled with sightseeing ideas, her favorite camera for capturing the Dutch coastline and her prettiest outfits, just in case Jason happened to glance her way during the broadcast.

Every moment with him played on a loop in her mind—his laughter during their disastrous pottery attempt, the way his eyes softened when he thought she wasn’t looking, the rare, unguarded smiles he reserved only for their quiet conversations. She had loved him for years, long before she ever stepped foot in a paddock, back when he was just a face on her bedroom posters and a name she whispered to the TV screen during races. But now? Now, she was falling all over again, deeper and harder than before and it terrified her.

Because how could she ever tell him?

The fear sat heavy in her chest, an anchor dragging her back to reality whenever her thoughts drifted too far into fantasy. Jason had once confessed, in an old interview she’d memorized, how much he despised obsessive fans—the kind who crossed boundaries, who saw him as an object rather than a person. And Y/N? She had been that girl once. She had run fan accounts, written embarrassingly earnest posts, even sketched him in the margins of her notebooks like some lovesick teenager. If he ever found out, would he look at her with disgust? Worse—would he see her as just another face in the crowd, another person who loved the idea of him more than the man himself?

The mere thought made her stomach drop.

Stephanie had rolled her eyes when Y/N voiced her fears. “You’re not some random fan anymore,” she’d argued. “You’re his friend. You know him. Tell him.”

But it wasn’t that simple.

Jason had dated models before—women with legs that went on for miles and faces that belonged on magazine covers. Y/N knew she didn’t compare. She wasn’t polished in that effortless way; sure she could be professional but that's that. She was all sharp edges and nervous energy, too loud when she was excited, too quiet when she was overthinking. And Jason? Jason was a legend. A champion. He deserved someone who matched his brilliance, someone the world would approve of—a supermodel, a pop star, anyone but a presenter whose biggest accomplishment was not tripping over her own words during live broadcasts.

And then there was her career.

Relationships between presenters and drivers were messy. The internet would dissect every glance, every interaction, until the narrative was no longer about her work but about who she was sleeping with. She had seen it happen to other women in the paddock—their credibility erased overnight, their achievements overshadowed by speculation and rumours.

But God, if Jason ever looked at her and asked, she would burn it all down in a heartbeat.

Her career. Her reputation. Every carefully constructed boundary she’d put in place to protect herself.

She’d do it without hesitation.

Because he was worth it.

Worth the risk. Worth the fall.

Even if he never felt the same.

Her eyes fell to the matching bracelets he had bought for them from a night market and a soft smile found its way to her lips. For now, this was enough.

It had to be. 

The buzz of her phone against the bedsheets startled her, pulling Y/N abruptly from her thoughts. She reached for it with slightly trembling fingers, her breath catching when she saw the name flashing across the screen— Jay💞.

The little heart emoji beside his name, something she’d added weeks ago in a moment of foolish hope, now felt like a cruel joke.

Jay💞: Can we talk?

Her stomach twisted. That wasn’t his usual style. No teasing remark, no dry observation about whatever hobby she’d been rambling about last. Just three simple words that carried an unsettling weight.

Y/N: Sure. Wassup?

Before she could even process sending the message, her screen lit up with an incoming call. Her pulse skyrocketed, fingers fumbling as she nearly dropped the phone in her haste to answer.

“Hi,” she breathed, forcing lightness into her voice even as her chest tightened with inexplicable dread.

“Hey.”

That single word confirmed it. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Jason’s voice was strained, the usual warmth replaced by something tense and unfamiliar.

“How are you doing?” he asked, the question stiff, like he was reading from a script.

Y/N’s fingers curled into the fabric of her sweater. “I’m good,” she replied, forcing a laugh. “Missing me already, are we Todd?”

It had only been six days since they’d last seen each other—six days since they’d wandered the streets of Monaco after dark, sharing a single gelato while arguing over which historical monument was the most overrated. He’d tugged her under an awning when the rain started, his arm brushing hers and for a fleeting moment, she’d let herself believe there was something more in the way he looked at her.

“Somethin’ like that,” Jason muttered, but there was no humor in it. No warmth. Just a hollow imitation of their usual banter. The dread in her stomach solidified into something heavier.

“And how—” she started, desperate to fill the silence, but Jason cut her off.

“We should stop this.”

The words hit like a ton of bricks, sharp and sudden, as if he’d ripped them out of himself before he could reconsider.

Y/N’s breath stuttered. The room tilted.

Stop what? she wanted to scream. Stop texting? Stop laughing together? Stop looking at me like I’m the only person in the room?

But all she managed was a choked, “Stop what?”

Please say I’m imagining this. Please say I’ve misunderstood.

“This. Us. The whole thing.” His voice was rough now, edged with frustration—a tone he’d never once used with her.

A voice in her head, cold and mocking, slithered through the haze of her shock.

What did you think would happen? That someone like him would ever want someone like you?

The tears came then, hot and unstoppable, but she clenched her jaw, refusing to let him hear them.

“I understand,” she whispered, the words barely audible past the lump in her throat.

It was a lie. She didn’t understand. Not when he’d looked at her like that in Monaco. Not when he’d kept every book she’d ever given him. Not when he’d promised to take her to see the tulips next spring.

But she wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t make this harder for him.

“It was fun while it lasted,” she forced out, her voice cracking. “I wish you all the best, Jason.”

She hung up before he could respond.

The phone slipped from her fingers, landing soundlessly on the bed. Around her, the room blurred—the half-packed suitcase for Zandvoort, the notebook filled with plans she’d never get to share, the dress she’d bought because it matched his eyes.

All of it, gone in an instant.

The phone slipped from Jason's fingers, clattering onto the marble countertop with a sound that echoed through the hollow silence of his penthouse. The screen had gone dark, just like the numbness spreading through his chest—but her voice still rang in his ears, sharp and clear despite the distance between them.

“I understand.”

The way her breath had hitched—just once, just barely—before she’d hung up. The way she’d tried so hard to sound composed, even as her voice cracked on those final words.

“I wish you all the best, Jason.”

As if he deserved her kindness. As if he hadn’t just taken something fragile and beautiful and shattered it with his own two hands.

A wave of self-loathing crashed over him, so visceral it knocked the breath out of him. He braced his hands against the counter, head bowed, shoulders trembling with the force of keeping himself upright.

You made her cry.

The realization was a knife to the ribs. Y/N, who laughed in the face of his sarcasm, who teased him mercilessly but never cruelly, who looked at the world with a wonder he’d forgotten existed—he’d hurt her.

Rage ignited in his veins, white-hot and directionless. At the paparazzi who’d snapped those invasive photos. At the team managers who’d warned him about “distractions.” At the entire goddamn world that had made this feel like the only choice.

But mostly—mostly—at himself.

The voices in his head, the ones he usually drowned out with engine roars and podium cheers, rose in a venomous chorus.

She would’ve left eventually. You’re not someone people stay for. You ruin everything you touch.

A sweeter, softer voice tried to interject—You were just trying to protect her—but the others drowned it out with mocking laughter.

Protect her? Or protecting yourself from the truth? That you’re terrified she never loved you at all?

“Shut up!” The words tore from his throat raw and ragged.

His vision blurred. His hands shook. The anger needed an outlet, needed to burn, and before he could think, he grabbed the nearest object—

The ceramic pot.

Their pot.

The one they’d painstakingly shaped at Nonna Gianna’s, their fingers brushing over wet clay. The one Y/N had painted with his racing number in that terrible, crooked script of hers, grinning as she declared, “Now everyone will know the great Jason Todd made this masterpiece.” The one he’d secretly kept on the shelf, where he could see it first thing every morning.

It shattered against the wall with a sound like a gunshot.

The moment it left his hand, he regretted it.

Jason was across the room before the last piece hit the ground, collapsing to his knees amidst the wreckage. His hands trembled as they gathered the broken fragments, as if he could somehow piece them back together.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, over and over, voice breaking.

To the pot. To the memories. To her.

The jagged edges bit into his palms, drawing blood, but he barely felt it. The physical pain was nothing compared to the agony of knowing—

He’d broken something far more precious than clay.

Y/N slid down the length of her bedroom wall, her legs giving out beneath her as she collapsed onto the hardwood floor. She pulled her knees to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them as if she could physically hold herself together. The tears came in relentless waves, hot and suffocating, each sob wracking her body with a violence that left her gasping for air.

She had known this would happen. Had braced for it from the moment she first realized her feelings for him had grown beyond professional admiration. So why did it feel like her chest had been cracked open? Why did it hurt to breathe, as if every inhale was lined with shards of glass?

Her phone buzzed incessantly on the carpet beside her, the screen lighting up again and again with notifications she couldn’t bring herself to check. Calls. Texts. Maybe even an explanation—though what could he possibly say that would undo the way his voice had sounded when he said those words?

We should stop this.

Had he found her old fan accounts? The embarrassing posts from her teenage years? Or worse—had he simply realized she wasn’t worth the trouble? That whatever this was between them had been a mistake?

The questions swarmed in her head like angry hornets, relentless and poisonous. She pressed her forehead against her knees, nails digging into her arms as if the physical pain could distract from the gaping hole in her chest.

Time lost meaning. The sunlight that had streamed through her windows when the call ended had long since faded, replaced by the dim glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains. Her tears had dried up, leaving her hollow and numb, her body too exhausted to produce any more.

She didn’t hear the frantic knocking at her front door. Didn’t register the sound of it swinging open, or the hurried footsteps that echoed through her apartment.

“Y/N? Y/N!”

Stephanie’s voice cut through the fog of her grief, sharp with panic.

Y/N barely lifted her head as her friend skidded into the bedroom, eyes wide with alarm. Behind her, Tim hovered in the doorway, his usual easygoing expression replaced with concern.

“Oh my god—” Stephanie dropped to her knees in front of her, hands hovering as if afraid to touch her. “Tim, go get water. Now.”

“Hey, Steph,” Y/N murmured, her voice raw and broken. She didn’t have the energy to force a smile, didn’t even try to wipe away the tear tracks staining her cheeks.

Tim returned moments later with a glass of water, which Y/N accepted numbly. The coldness of the glass against her palm was the first real sensation she’d felt in hours.

“You didn’t show up at the airport,” Stephanie said, her voice trembling. “You weren’t answering calls or texts. And then we saw the news report—”

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the glass. “News report?”

Stephanie blinked. “You... didn’t know?”

Tim wordlessly pulled out his phone, swiping through his feed before turning the screen toward her. Y/N set the glass down with a shaky exhale. “That explains a lot.”

Stephanie’s brow furrowed. “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

And so, in halting, broken sentences, Y/N told them. About the call. About the way Jason’s voice had sounded—like he was forcing the words out, like he hated every single one. About how she’d hung up before she could break completely.

By the time she finished, Stephanie’s face had darkened with a fury Y/N had never seen before.

“That motherfucker,” she hissed, pulling out her phone and her hands balling into fists. “I swear to God, I’m going to—”

“Steph,” Tim interjected gently, though his own jaw was clenched. “Let’s just... focus on Y/N right now, okay?”

Stephanie nodded slowly and put her phone down begrudged, “But mark my words, he’s not getting away with this. Not after everything. Not after you.”

Y/N didn’t have the strength to stop her. Didn’t have the strength to do anything but stare at the floor, the numbness settling deeper into her bones.

Zandvoort was everything Y/N had imagined it would be—the roaring crowd, the salty sea air mixing with the scent of rubber, the vibrant banners waving proudly in the stands. The Dutch Grand Prix had always been one of her favorites, and she had been looking forward to this weekend for months.

But now, standing in the middle of the bustling paddock, she felt strangely detached from it all.

The night before had helped, at least. Steph and Tim had refused to leave her alone, bundling her onto their private jet with a duffel bag full of all her comfort foods. They’d let her cry when she needed to, let her rant when she wanted to and then, when the worst of it had passed, they’d distracted her with terrible B-movies and enough popcorn to feed a small village. By morning, the raw edges of her heartache had dulled into something more manageable—something she could tuck away behind a practiced smile and a layer of expertly applied makeup.

She still wore the dress she’d bought for the weekend. A deep emerald green with accents of blue, the color of the ocean under storm clouds. She’d picked it weeks ago, imagining how the fabric would flutter in the coastal wind, wondering if Jason would notice. But of course, there was no use of thinking such thoughts now.

The race had been chaotic, the kind of edge-of-your-seat spectacle that normally would have had her buzzing with adrenaline. Jason had podiumed—P3, when he could have easily taken P1 if not for a series of uncharacteristic mistakes. The commentators speculated about pressure getting to him, but everyone in the paddock knew the real reason. The photos. The rumors. 

She had avoided him all weekend, sticking to the media zones where she knew he wouldn’t venture. But now, as the post-race interviews loomed, her luck had run out.

Cass was first—stoic as ever, gracious in victory, her answers concise and humble. Konner Kent followed, flashing that trademark Kent charm, all cocky grins and playful winks that had the crowd eating out of his palm.

And then, before she could brace herself, Jason was stepping into the interview pen.

“Hello, Jason.”

Her voice didn’t waver. She had spent years perfecting the art of professionalism, and it didn’t fail her now. The smile she gave him was polite, detached—the same one she’d give any driver.

“Mind walking us through your race?”

For a moment, he just stared at her.

The noise of the paddock faded into the distance. The cameras, the reporters, the fans—none of it mattered. His gaze searched hers, desperate, as if he could find some answer in the cool detachment of her expression.

Are you okay? his eyes seemed to ask. Did I ruin everything?

But she gave nothing away.

“Jason?”

Her voice was calm, measured, the perfect cadence of a professional doing her job. The microphone in her hand didn’t tremble. The smile on her lips didn’t waver. But her eyes—those dark, expressive eyes he’d spent months learning to read—were utterly unreadable.

He blinked, startled back to reality like a man waking from a dream. “Uh—yeah. Sorry.”

The apology tasted bitter on his tongue. Sorry for what? For zoning out during the interview? For breaking her heart over the phone like a coward? For the way his chest ached just standing this close to her, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume—something floral and soft that reminded him of the lazy afternoons in cafes of Milan?

He cleared his throat, dragging a hand through his sweat-damp hair as he launched into the mechanical race recap every driver had memorized by their rookie year. Tire degradation. Track conditions. The usual corporate-approved talking points.

But his gaze never left hers.

He watched for any crack in her armor—a flicker of hurt, a flash of anger, anything to prove she still felt something. But Y/N? She was impeccable. Nodding at all the right moments, smiling when the script demanded it, her posture relaxed as if this was just another interview with just another driver.

Not the man who’d danced in the rain with her in Austria. Not the man who had a polaroid of them on his nightstand. Not the man who was currently dying inside.

“So,” she continued smoothly, glancing down at the cue cards in her hand, “any plans after the race?”

The question was innocuous. Routine. He swallowed hard. “I did have plans for going to the beach, maybe the museums...” His voice trailed off, the ghost of a humorless laugh escaping him. Plans with you. “But those fell through.”

For the briefest second, something flickered in her expression. Then it was gone.

“Well,” she said, her tone light but her knuckles whitening around the microphone, “I think you should still try to go regardless.”

Their eyes locked. The paddock noise faded to static.

Even if we’re done, her words whispered between them, don’t stop living.

Jason’s throat tightened. He wanted to say so much more—to explain about the lawyers, the paparazzi, the team. To tell her that walking away was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

But the cameras were rolling. The world was watching.

So all he said was, “Yeah. Maybe I will.”

The days after the interview bled together in a monotonous cycle of exhaustion and emptiness. Jason fell back into his old ways—wake up, train, eat, sleep, repeat. The discipline that had once been second nature now felt like a prison sentence, each repetition chipping away at what little remained of his spirit.

He still raced. Still won, even. The muscle memory was too deeply ingrained for anything less. But the fire that had once driven him—the fierce, unrelenting need to prove himself—had been reduced to smoldering embers. Without her in the stands, without her texts dissecting his performance with that sharp insight and playful teasing, the victories felt hollow. The cheers of the crowd, once electric, now grated against his nerves like static, a shrill cacophony that only emphasized the silence where her voice should have been.

And yet, like clockwork, the messages still came.

Every new city, every race weekend, his phone would light up with clinical, meticulously researched recommendations—museum tickets booked under his name, reservation details for hidden-gem restaurants, phone numbers for local guides who could show him the sights. The messages were stripped bare of her personality—no ridiculous emojis, no witty remarks, no absurd cat memes that used to make him groan even as he saved them to his camera roll. Just facts. Just logistics. As if she couldn’t bear to cut him off completely but couldn’t bring herself to be anything more than professionally courteous.

See? She still cares about you, a voice in his head whispered, equal parts hopeful and cruel. Even after everything.

And what had he done in return?

The taunts came harder now, unrelenting and deserved. There was no defense, no justification. Not anymore. He had made his choice, and this was the consequence—a half-life, a world drained of color.

He tried, at first, to follow her suggestions. Walked through art galleries, stared at masterpieces he couldn’t appreciate. Sat through a lion dance show in Singapore, the dancers’ passion only underscoring his own numbness. Each attempt ended the same way—with him standing in the middle of some crowded plaza or quiet museum hall, struck by the unbearable weight of her absence.

What would she say right now?

The thought was involuntary, intrusive. He could almost hear her voice, the way she’d poke fun at the overly serious museum descriptions or make up ridiculous backstories for the portraits. The memory of her laughter, bright and unselfconscious, twisted like a knife.

Even reading, once his solace, offered no refuge. The books she’d given him sat untouched on his nightstand. When he did try, he’d find himself staring at the same paragraph, the words blurring into meaningless shapes. His mind, usually so sharp, so focused, was a fog of regret and what-ifs. Half an hour. That was all he could manage before the emptiness became too much. Before he had to leave, shoulders hunched against the weight of missing her.

And then, slowly, he began to notice her absence in the paddock, too. Fewer sightings in the media pen, fewer flashes of her familiar silhouette in the crowd. He didn’t know if it was intentional, if she was avoiding him as deliberately as he was avoiding her, or if the universe had simply decided to spare them both the agony of crossing paths.

A blessing, he told himself. A mercy.

But the truth was worse.

Because every time he turned a corner and didn’t see her, every time he scanned the pit lane and found it empty of her presence, the hole in his chest grew wider.

He missed her.

Not just the idea of her, not just the comfort she’d brought—but her. The way her nose scrunched when she laughed. The way she’d bite her lip when concentrating. The way she’d looked at him, really looked at him, as if she saw something worth saving beneath the wreckage.

And now, without her, he was adrift. A champion with no one left to race for. A man who’d pushed away the only person who ever made him feel alive.

The Mexican Grand Prix had been brutal—not because of the track or the competition, but because every turn, every straightaway, seemed to whisper memories he couldn’t escape. As Jason stood in the quiet of his driver’s room, the adrenaline of the race still thrumming under his skin, his mind drifted unbidden to a conversation from what felt like a lifetime ago.

“You have to try my friend’s abuelita’s quesadillas,” Y/N had told him, her eyes alight with excitement. “They’re legendary. I’ll take you there after the race this time.”

This time.

The words echoed hollowly in his chest. There would be no this time for them. No shared meals, no laughter over burnt tongues from too-hot cheese, no moments where the world faded away and it was just the two of them, tangled in the simple joy of being together.

He slumped onto the couch, scrolling mindlessly through his phone in a futile attempt to distract himself. Then, like a punch to the gut, Tim’s Instagram story appeared.

A photo.

Tim, grinning as always, arm slung around his girlfriend—the blonde stylist Jason vaguely remembered from a few events. And there, standing beside them, radiant in a golden dress that seemed to catch fire under the evening lights, was Y/N.

But it wasn’t just her presence that sent a sharp, jagged pain through his heart.

It was Danny.

Danny, with his easy smile and his arm draped casually around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her close. Danny, who had known her longer, who had history with her, who was now standing where Jason should have been.

Jason’s grip on his phone tightened until his knuckles turned white.

Anger surged through him, hot and irrational, a wildfire he couldn’t control. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was something deeper, something primal. The sight of her smiling, glowing, laughing with someone else, doing all the things they used to do—it carved something raw and feral out of him.

She wasn’t his.

She had never been his.

And yet, the possessive fury that coiled in his gut refused to loosen.

Why?

Why did the thought of her happiness without him feel like a betrayal? Why did the idea of her moving on, of her finding joy in someone else’s company, make him want to slam his fist through a wall?

It was selfish. Hypocritical, even. He was the one who had ended things. He was the one who had pushed her away. And yet, here he was, seething at the mere idea of her being someone else's.

Pathetic.

He tossed his phone onto the table, the screen still illuminated with that damn photo and dragged his hands over his face. The weight of his own contradictions pressed down on him—the guilt, the longing, the anger, all tangled into an unbearable knot. He had no right to feel this way. But that didn’t stop the ache.

And it didn’t stop him from wondering, with a bitterness that tasted like regret, if she had already forgotten him.

The quiet hum of the garage was interrupted by a hesitant knock, followed by the creak of the door swinging open. Jason looked up from where he sat, his phone still clenched in his hand, the screen now dark as he placed it face-down on the table. The familiar voice that followed sent a jolt through him—one he hadn’t realized he needed until now.

“Can I come in?”

Roy Harper stood in the doorway, his frame silhouetted against the harsh fluorescent lights of the paddock outside. Even after all this time, the sight of him brought a flood of memories—both painful and cherished. Roy had been more than just a friend; he’d been Jason’s fiercest rival, his most trusted confidante, the only person on the grid who ever truly understood the weight of what it meant to race at this level.

And then, in the blink of an eye, everything had shattered.

Jason swallowed hard, forcing himself to nod. “Roy?”

The name came out rougher than he intended, laced with surprise and something deeper—something like guilt.

After the crash, Roy had been consumed by it. The guilt, the self-blame, the crushing weight of believing he’d been the one to end Jason’s career or worse, his life. Jason had heard the stories in hushed tones from the team: Roy’s downward spiral, the overdose, the way he’d disappeared from the paddock entirely. And Jason? He’d stayed away, too, convinced that seeing him—seeing the scars, the aftermath would only drag Roy back into that darkness.

It was almost laughable, in the cruelest way. Roy blamed himself for the crash. Jason blamed himself for Roy’s suffering. And yet, neither of them had ever once blamed the other.

But time, therapy and an insistent, stubborn woman named Y/N had changed things.

Roy had been the first to seek help, pulling himself out of the abyss with a determination Jason had always admired. And Jason? Well, he’d had Y/N. She’d been the one to gently but firmly suggest he talk to someone, too. And when the time came, she’d been the one to nudge him toward reconciliation with Roy, insisting that they both needed it.

“You can’t keep carrying this guilt,” she’d told him, her voice soft but unyielding. “And neither can he.”

Another thing he owed her. Another thing he couldn’t repay.

“I didn’t know you came to see the race,” Jason said, forcing himself back to the present.

Roy stepped fully into the room, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. “Jade and I were in the country, so we thought we might as well.” He paused, then added with a grin, “Oh, and Lian came too. Had her wear a mini 02 jersey.”

He pulled out his phone, swiping to a photo of his infant daughter swaddled in a tiny onesie designed to mimic Jason’s livery. A laugh escaped him before he could stop it, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. “You’re turning her into a fan already?”

Roy’s grin widened. “Gotta teach 'em young, amiright? And don’t think I forgot—you still owe her a proper godfather gift. None of that ‘signed merch’ crap, either.”

Godfather. The word settled over Jason like a weight—a responsibility, a promise, a second chance he hadn’t realized he needed. Lian had been born not long after he and Roy had finally sat down and talked, after the apologies and the tears and the long-overdue acknowledgment that neither of them had been at fault. That day, Roy had clasped his shoulder and declared Jason the godfather without hesitation, as if it had always been inevitable.

Jason’s thumb hovered over the phone screen, tracing the curve of Lian’s round cheeks in the photo. The tiny onesie, a perfect miniature replica of his own racing colors, sent an unexpected warmth through his chest. For a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased, replaced by something softer, something like wonder.

“She’s perfect, Roy.”

The words came out quieter than he intended, almost reverent.

Roy’s expression shifted, the usual sharp edges of his smirk softening into something more tender. “Yeah,” he agreed, voice thick with a pride Jason had never heard from him before. “She is.”

The silence that followed wasn’t the heavy, suffocating kind they’d endured after the crash. This was different—comfortable in a way Jason hadn’t realized he missed. The kind of quiet that only existed between people who had seen each other at their worst and still chose to stand side by side.

It didn’t last.

Roy, ever incapable of leaving well enough alone, broke it with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball.

“So,” he drawled, leaning back against the equipment crate with practiced nonchalance, “you gonna tell me why you look like someone kicked your puppy or am I supposed to guess?”

Jason exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers raking through his sweat-damp hair. The motion did little to dispel the restless energy coiled beneath his skin. “It’s nothing.”

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

Roy didn’t even dignify it with a response. Just raised one eyebrow, the look on his face screaming bullshit louder than any words could.

Jason opened his mouth—to deflect, to argue, to say anything that would make Roy drop it—but the words died before they could form. What was there to say? That he’d been staring at a photo of Y/N like some lovesick teenager? That the sight of her smiling with someone else had carved a hole in his chest he couldn’t seem to fill?

Roy took one look at his face and groaned, dragging a hand down his own. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Jason scowled. “What?”

“You’re moping.”

“I’m not moping.”

The protest was automatic, but even Jason could hear how petulant it sounded.

Roy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You absolutely are. Look, if you’re this torn up about it, just talk to her.”

Jason’s jaw clenched, the muscles ticking under the strain. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why?” Roy challenged, leaning forward. “Because you’re scared?”

The question landed like a punch, sharp and unrelenting.

Jason didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Roy sighed, shaking his head with a mixture of exasperation and something dangerously close to pity. “Man, I never thought I’d see the day Jason Todd was too chickenshit to fight for something he wanted.”

The words stung, but not as much as the ones that followed.

“Look, Jay,” Roy continued, shifting forward, his tone losing its edge for something more earnest. “I talked to Y/N once. Really talked to her. And you know what she told me?” He paused, letting the weight of the moment settle. “This whole ‘hobby hunting’ thing you’ve been doing? It’s not about finding some obscure pastime to kill the hours. It’s about you. About you figuring out who the hell you are when you’re not behind a wheel.”

Jason’s throat tightened.

“She wanted you to realize that your worth—your whole damn existence—isn’t defined by what you do on track. That you’re more than just a driver. That you matter, with or without racing.” Roy’s gaze hardened. “And I’ll be real with you—Y/N? She was it for you. The best match you could’ve ever hoped for. Someone who actually saw you—all of you—and chose to stay. Because she knows you're worth it, whether you believe it or not.”

He leaned back then, arms crossing over his chest, his next words deliberate, final.

“So if you let her go? If you really let her walk away without a fight?” Roy leveled him with a look that stripped Jason bare of his defenses. “Then you’re not just scared, Jason. You’re a goddamn fool.”

Jason stayed silent. What could he say? That Roy was right? That he’d known from the moment Y/N walked into his life that she was different, that she saw him in a way no one else ever had? That the thought of losing her for good was enough to make his hands shake?

Roy wasn’t done. “Look at me and Jade,” he continued, voice dropping into something more serious. “Daughter of a rival team’s sponsor. People talked shit—still talk shit—but we made it work. You’re letting your self-hatred and anxiety ruin the one good thing you have.” He jabbed a finger at Jason’s chest. “Snap out of it.”

A beat. Then, with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes:

“Also make up with her, because you race like shit when you’re emo. Can’t have Lian watch her godfather embarrass himself like that, now can I?”

The attempt at humor fell flat, but the message was clear.

Jason had a choice to make. But the question was, could he?

Roy’s words lingered in Jason’s mind like an unshakable shadow, gnawing at him long after they had been spoken. He wanted Y/N—desperately, irrevocably but the weight of his own turmoil held him back. The desire to claim her as his own warred violently with the fear of dragging her into the chaos that followed him like a curse. He couldn’t bear the thought of the world’s cruelty—the relentless hate, the hollow pity, the performative sympathy—tainting her perception of him. What if she started seeing him through the same fractured lens he saw himself? The possibility was unbearable.

When one of his managers suggested yet another PR relationship—this time with a model, just to divert attention from that godforsaken Twitter post—Jason nearly recoiled in disgust. The idea of replacing Y/N, even superficially, made his skin crawl. There was no comparison. She wasn’t just another face in the crowd; she was the only one who had ever truly mattered.

Then came Las Vegas.

During free practice, Tim had been called in as a last-minute replacement after Cass sprained her wrist. Jason had expected the usual awkward tension between them—Tim’s hesitant politeness, his quiet deference despite Jason’s habitual coldness. But this time, something was different. Tim moved through the garage like a ghost, his gaze sliding right past Jason as if he were nothing more than empty air. The one time their eyes did meet, Tim’s expression twisted into something sharp and disdainful, a look so foreign that it sent a ripple of unease through Jason.

This wasn’t about racing.

Jason knew, with a sinking certainty, that this ran deeper than motorsports. Tim and his girlfriend were close to Y/N— always had been. If Tim despised him this openly, then Y/N’s feelings toward him now must be even worse. The thought was haunting.

Three times, Jason tried to bridge the gap, to force some kind of conversation. Three times, Tim shut him out with icy indifference. But Jason wasn’t about to back down. He needed answers. He needed to know—how much damage had been done, whether there was even a sliver of hope left. And if there was, he’d claw his way through hell itself to reach her.

By the time FP3 ended, Jason had resolved himself—he needed answers, and Tim was the only one who could give them to him. He waited, patience fraying, until the garage began to empty out, the mechanics packing up equipment and the hum of post-session debriefs fading into the background. Then, as Tim zipped up his bag, shoulders drooping with exhaustion, Jason moved.

He blocked the exit, not aggressively, but firmly enough that Tim couldn’t just slip past him. The younger driver let out a long, irritated sigh, finally lifting his gaze—not in acknowledgment, but in resignation. He knew this conversation was inevitable.

“What is it?” Tim muttered, voice flat, as if he were already bracing for an argument.

Jason swallowed hard. For a man who thrived on confrontation, he suddenly felt uncharacteristically unsure. But he had come this far, he couldn’t back down now.

“How is she?” The words came out rougher than he intended, laced with a desperation he hadn’t meant to reveal.

Tim’s expression darkened. “How is who?” he shot back, feigning ignorance with a deliberate eye roll, his tone dripping with sarcasm. The act was flimsy, almost insulting in its lack of effort.

Jason’s jaw tightened. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. Y/N.” His voice was low, urgent. “I haven’t seen her around the paddock lately.”

A bitter smirk twisted Tim’s lips. “Didn’t you hear?” he said, mockingly casual. “She asked her higher-ups to switch her from F1 to IndyCar for presenting.” A pause, then the unspoken words hung between them like a blade: Because of you.

Jason stiffened. “But F1 is the pinnacle of motorsports. Why would she just—throw away everything she’s worked for?” The idea was unthinkable. Y/N had clawed her way into the F1 world through sheer determination. She loved this sport. She wouldn’t just walk away.

Something in Tim’s demeanor snapped. His grip on his bag tightened, knuckles whitening, and when he spoke again, his voice was raw with fury.

“Why the fuck do you care?”

Jason opened his mouth, but Tim wasn’t finished.

“Oh, save it,” he spat, cutting him off before he could even form a reply. “Look, Todd—” The deliberate use of his last name was a slap in the face. “—I never had anything but respect for you as a racer. When I first came to the paddock, yeah, you were an asshole to me. And you know what? I got it. Your life sucked. Fine. But then you had to drag someone like Y/N into your bullshit. You used her and then you broke her.”

Tim’s voice cracked, his composure slipping for the first time. “And it wasn’t just her heart, you selfish bastard. You broke her spirit. She was light, and you stole it from her. So tell me—” He took a step forward, eyes blazing. “—was it fun? Stealing the light from behind her eyes?”

The words hit Jason like a physical blow. He had no defense, no retort. Because deep down, he already knew the answer.

And it destroyed him.

“Tim, please—just listen—” Jason’s voice was rough, pleading, but Tim wasn’t having it.

“No, I won’t listen to this shit!” Tim snapped, cutting him off with a sharp gesture. His usual calm demeanor had completely shattered, replaced by something jagged and furious. “She shouldn’t have to suffer just because you decided you were done with her. Like she was some fucking toy you got bored of. And you know what the worst part is?” His voice dropped, trembling with barely contained rage. “She still doesn’t blame you for it. Even now, after everything, she defends you even after how you played with her.”

That stung worse than any insult.

“I DIDN’T PLAY WITH HER!” Jason roared, surging forward before he could stop himself. His hands fisted in Tim’s collar, shoving him back against the garage wall. His entire body was coiled tight with fury—because as much as he understood the young driver's anger, as much as he deserved it, this accusation was too much. He loved Y/N. The idea that he had treated her like some fleeting amusement was revolting.

Tim didn’t even flinch.

“Then what, huh?” he shot back, voice icy despite the fire in his eyes. “What was that cowardly bullshit of telling her over the phone? If she meant so much to you, why couldn’t you even look her in the eye when you broke her heart?”

Jason’s grip faltered. The fight drained out of him as suddenly as it had surged, his hands dropping away from Tim’s collar like he’d been burned. He took a shaky step back, dragging his hands through his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as if he could physically pull the right words out of his own skull.

“I—I wasn’t playing with her,” he said, voice cracking. The admission came out raw, stripped bare. “I love her. I was just—”

His throat closed. The words wouldn’t come.

Hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision. He blinked hard, refusing to let them fall, but the weight of Tim’s glare—of Y/N’s absence—pressed down on him like a physical force.

Tim didn’t relent. “People who love people don’t ditch them over the phone like that,” he said, each word a precise, deliberate strike. “If you really loved her, you would fight for her. Not run.”

Jason exhaled sharply, like the words had knocked the air out of him. “I was scared, okay?” The confession tore out of him, ragged and desperate. “I was scared of how the media would react, the pressure it would put on her. I did it to protect her.”

Tim let out a mocking, incredulous laugh. “You don’t get to decide what she can and can’t handle,” he said, shaking his head. “So tell me—was it really to protect her? Or was it to protect yourself?”

Jason stood there, the weight of Tim’s words pressing down on him like a physical force. They were the same ones Roy said, the same ones the voice in his head asked. His chest ached with a pain he couldn’t articulate— part guilt, part longing, part sheer desperation. The garage around them felt suddenly suffocating, the distant sounds of mechanics working and engineers talking fading into a dull buzz in his ears.

“I thought...” Jason started, then swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I thought if I pushed her away first, it would hurt less when the world inevitably turned against us.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, the admission tasting like ash in his mouth. “But I was wrong. God, I was so fucking wrong.”

Tim crossed his arms, his expression unyielding. “You don’t get to make those choices for her. She’s stronger than you gave her credit for.”

A bitter laugh escaped Jason’s lips. “I know that now. Christ, do I ever know that.” He looked down at his hands— the hands that had held her, that had pushed her away. “She deserved better than a phone call. She deserved... she deserves everything.”

For the first time since their confrontation began, Tim’s stance softened slightly. “Yeah, she does.” He studied Jason’s face, seeing the genuine torment there. “But it’s too late for regrets now. She’s gone, Jason. She left F1 because being here hurt too much. Because everywhere she looked, she saw you.”

Jason’s head snapped up at that. “Where is she now?” There was a new urgency in his voice, a spark of something that hadn’t been there before. “Tim, please. If there’s even a chance—”

“A chance for what?” Tim interrupted. “For you to waltz back into her life and mess with her head all over again?”

“No.” Jason shook his head vehemently. “For me to apologize properly. To tell her... to tell her I was an idiot. That I love her. That if she’ll let me, I’ll spend every damn day proving I’m worthy of her.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and lingering anger. Finally, Tim sighed. “She’ll come to watch my race in Qatar, I’ll arrange for you to talk to her.” He fixed Jason with a hard look. “But if you hurt her again, I swear to God—”

“You won’t have to do anything,” Jason finished quietly. “Because I’ll never forgive myself if I do.” He took a deep breath, his mind already racing with plans. “Thank you, Tim.”

Tim just nodded tersely before turning to leave. As he walked away, he threw one last comment over his shoulder: “Don’t thank me yet. She might not even want to see you.”

Jason just nodded. “I know but i have to try.”

The Qatar Grand Prix arrived before Jason had time to process his swirling emotions. From the moment he stepped into the paddock, there was an electric energy coursing through him— a singular focus that hadn’t been there in months. Every turn of the wheel, every press of the accelerator brought him closer to his real finish line: her. Tim’s reluctant information about Y/N’s hotel and availability window after the race had become his holy grail, the coordinates that had rewired his entire nervous system to operate on one frequency— get to her.

As he strapped into the car, the usual pre-race adrenaline felt different. Sharper. More purposeful. The commentators noted how Jason Todd drove like a man possessed. Every overtake wasn’t just for position— it was another minute shaved off the countdown to seeing her. The chequered flag wasn’t just the end of the race— it was the starting pistol for the only competition that truly mattered now.

When P1 flashed on the boards, there was no surprise in his team’s eyes. They’d seen this laser focus before races before, but never with this... hunger. Jason barely registered the champagne spray, his eyes constantly flicking to his watch. The carbon-fiber face ticked away mercilessly, each passing second tightening the knot in his chest. He gave clipped answers in the post-race interviews, the smile not reaching his eyes— the world only saw the champion, not the man counting down until he could escape the spotlight.

The moment the live feed cut away, Jason was moving. Not the usual victorious stroll, but the determined stride of a man on a mission. He bypassed the debrief, the data review, everything, heading straight for where he’d parked his personal car earlier. Not just any vehicle, but the one that still carried fragments of her presence: the scarf she’d left during that rainy weekend in Monaco— he’d never returned it, both because the faint trace of her perfume lingered in the fibers and because she’d complained the fabric texture aggravated her sensory sensitivities, the forgotten fidget toy wedged in the dashboard cubby, even the passenger seat still adjusted to her preferred position. 

The drive to the hotel was a blur of speed and suppressed panic. Jason barely registered handing his keys to the wide-eyed valet, the young man’s mouth falling open as he recognized both the car and its still-suited driver. The lobby’s polished floors echoed with the sound of his racing boots as he approached the front desk, his breathing uneven from the sprint from the parking lot.

“Room 1608 - is the guest available?” The words came out rushed, tinged with a desperation that made the concierge blink. The poor man’s professional composure faltered as he took in the sight: Jason Todd, still in his fireproof race suit, smelling of champagne and gasoline, hair damp with sweat, eyes wild with something between hope and terror. The concierge’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, caught between protocol and the surreal reality of a Formula 1 legend panting before him.

“Y-yes, Mr. Todd. The guest just checked in about...” A glance at the computer screen. “...twenty minutes ago.” His eyes darted to the room key card dispenser, then back to Jason’s face, clearly wondering if he should ask for ID from someone whose face was currently on every sports channel worldwide.

Jason didn’t wait for formalities. A curt nod and he was moving again, weaving through the lobby with the same precision he’d shown on track earlier. The elevator ride to the 16th floor lasted both an eternity and no time at all, his reflection in the mirrored walls showing a man he barely recognized— someone capable of throwing away every carefully constructed defense for one chance, one conversation, one... her.

When the doors slid open, Jason realized he hadn’t actually planned what to say. The hallway stretched before him, room numbers ticking up with each step: 1602... 1604... 1606...

And then there it was. 1608.

The moment of truth, marked by a simple brass number plate. Jason’s hand hovered near the doorbell, his breath coming too fast. This wasn’t a racetrack. There was no engineering solution here, no team radio to guide him. Just a door, a choice and whatever lay beyond it.

The chime of the doorbell echoed through the hallway, sharp and final—like a starting gun signaling no turning back. Jason’s pulse hammered in his throat, his body still thrumming with the residual adrenaline from the race. His fingers flexed at his sides, still gloved, still streaked with traces of rubber and sweat. He hadn’t even bothered to change. Every second had mattered. Every second still mattered.

Silence.

Then—movement. The faint shuffle of footsteps from inside the suite, the muted click of the lock disengaging. The door swung open, and there she was.

Y/N stood framed in the doorway and the sight of her hit Jason like a train. The subtle changes in her were devastating— the slight hollowing of her cheeks that spoke of missed meals, the way her shoulders carried a weight that hadn’t been there before. But it was her eyes that destroyed him most— those eyes he’d once seen spark with laughter now dulled, the vibrant light dimmed beneath a film of quiet melancholy. The ghost of a smile that flickered across her lips never reached them, dying before it could truly form.

Tim’s words roared back in Jason’s skull with brutal clarity: “You stole the light from behind her eyes.” His hands curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms. The urge to turn around and drive his fist through a wall warred with the need to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness. He remained frozen instead, caught in the devastating gravity of what he’d done.

The silence between them wasn’t just absence of sound— it was a living thing, thick with all the words they’d never said, all the moments they’d lost. Jason could hear his own pulse thundering in his ears, could see the subtle rise and fall of Y/N’s chest as she breathed. Waiting. Always waiting for him to catch up.

“I, uh—” His voice emerged rough, cracking like dry earth after a drought. He swallowed against the desert in his throat, tasting copper and regret. “I didn’t know if you’d answer.”

Her eyes flickered over him— his disheveled hair, the racing suit still molded to his body by sweat and effort, the faint tremor in his hands that had nothing to do with adrenaline crash. “You drove here straight from the podium,” she observed, not a question but a statement.

No greeting. No ‘hello Jason’. Just this— an acknowledgement of his reckless, desperate need to see her that he couldn’t disguise if he tried.

“Yeah.” The single syllable carried the weight of his truth. He’d abandoned post-race protocols, interviews, celebrations— all of it meaningless compared to this moment.

The quiet stretched between them, fragile as spun glass. Then, so soft he almost missed it: “You won.”

Jason didn’t hesitate. “I had a reason to.” The words dropped like stones into the space between them, ripples spreading through the charged air. He’d driven today not for glory or points, but for the chance to stand here now. Every overtake, every perfect apex had been measured in seconds ticking away to his arrival time.

Y/N’s lips parted slightly— a sign he knew so well, the prelude to words carefully considered. But whatever thought had formed died unspoken as she exhaled, a slow release of breath that seemed to deflate her slightly. She stepped back, holding the door wider in silent invitation. “You should come in,” she murmured, her voice carrying a weariness that aged her. “Before someone recognizes you in the hallway.”

Jason crossed the threshold in two strides, the familiar scent of her perfume wrapping around him like a ghost’s embrace— that light floral note with a hint of citrus underneath, so intimately known it made his chest ache. The door clicked shut behind him, the sound final as a judge’s gavel.

When Y/N turned to face him fully, the question came not with anger or accusation, but with a quiet resignation that cut deeper than any blade: “Why are you here, Jason?”

The detachment in her tone was worse than shouting. Worse than thrown objects or tears. This calm acceptance, this emotional distance— it meant she’d already begun the process of letting go. And that realization terrified him more than any outburst ever could. Because anger would mean she still cared. This? This sounded like goodbye.

Jason’s words tumbled out in a raw, unfiltered torrent—each syllable laced with months of pent-up regret and longing. His voice cracked under the weight of his confession, rough with emotion.

“Y/N—” His throat tightened, as if his own body was resisting the vulnerability he was forcing himself to show. But he pushed through, the words spilling out like a dam breaking. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I thought—” He dragged in a shaky breath, his hands flexing uselessly at his sides before clenching into fists. “I thought if I pushed you away first, I could shield you from the media circus, from the scrutiny, from all the bullshit that comes with being tied to me. But it was cowardly. It was selfish. And I—” His voice wavered, eyes burning with unshed tears. “You’re the only person who ever made me feel like I was more than just a driver. Like I was worth something beyond the track. And I get it if you can’t forgive me, but please—” His voice dropped to a whisper, ragged with desperation. “Please don’t let me lose you.”

Y/N stood frozen, her lips parted in stunned silence. Her eyes, those eyes he had memorized in every shade of emotion, widened in disbelief. All this time, she had believed his rejection was about her, about some perceived inadequacy on her part. That he had been ashamed of her. That she hadn’t been enough.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

The realization struck her like lightning, stealing her breath.

“Say something,” Jason pleaded, his voice rough. “Please.”

Y/N exhaled shakily, her own emotions threatening to spill over. “Jason, I—” She swallowed hard, her fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of her top. “I thought you did it because you didn’t want me ruining your image. That you were—” She cut herself off, unable to voice the insecurity that had festered in her chest for months.

Jason’s expression twisted in anguish. “I was what?” he demanded, stepping forward without thinking, his hands rising to cradle her face. The contact was instinctive, electric—his calloused thumbs brushing against her cheeks as if to wipe away every doubt she’d ever had. “Embarrassed of you?” His voice dropped, low and fierce. “Fucking hell, doll. You’re the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to me. Why the hell would I be embarrassed of you?”

The warmth of Jason’s hands against her skin sent a shockwave through Y/N’s system, awakening sensations she’d tried so hard to forget. His touch had always been her undoing— those strong, capable hands that could manhandle a race car at 200mph now cradling her face with heartbreaking tenderness. She could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, the way his breath hitched when their eyes locked.

“You really thought that?” Jason whispered, his voice breaking. “That I could ever be ashamed of you?” His thumbs traced the curve of her cheekbones, wiping away tears she hadn’t realized were falling. “Y/N... you’re everything. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last before I sleep. Even when I was being a stubborn bastard and pushing you away, you were all I could fucking think about.”

Y/N felt her pulse stutter at the intensity in his gaze— that particular shade of stormy blue green she’d always loved. Now those same eyes bored into hers with near-frantic sincerity, the kind that couldn’t be faked. The kind that left her foundation shaking.

When she finally spoke, her voice emerged softer than intended, frayed at the edges. “You let me believe...” A shaky inhale. “For months, Jason. You let me think I wasn’t enough.”

Jason’s entire body flinched, his hands sliding back to cradle her head as if offering protection from his own failures. “I know,” he choked out. “Christ, I know. And I’ll spend every fucking day making that up to you if you’ll let me.” His forehead dropped to rest against hers, their noses brushing. “Just tell me what you need. Scream at me. Throw something. Hell, slap me senseless— I probably deserve it.”

A watery laugh escaped her, the sound startling them both. It was so quintessentially Jason— this brash, all-or-nothing approach that had first drawn her in. The same intensity that made him a champion on the track, now turned entirely toward her.

Her hands, which had hung stiffly at her sides, finally lifted to grip his wrists. Not pushing away. Not pulling closer. Just... holding. Anchoring. “I need you to stop deciding what’s best for me,” she whispered. “I need you to trust me enough to choose for myself.”

“Done.” Simple. Absolute. The way he said everything when he meant it.

The words left Y/N’s lips before she could stop them—lighthearted, teasing, a fragile attempt to diffuse the tension still humming between them. “So... are we like friends again?”

Jason’s breath caught almost imperceptibly, his fingers stilling where they’d been tracing absent patterns along her arm. He would’ve been lying if he said the word didn’t prick at him, sharp as a needle to the chest. Friends. After everything—after the way his heart had just laid itself bare at her feet—that label felt painfully inadequate.

A forced chuckle escaped him, low and rough. “Darling,” he murmured, his thumb rising to brush deliberately across her bottom lip, “I don’t think what we have can be labeled as just friendship.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

The contact sent a jolt of electricity straight through her, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. Was this really happening? The moment she’d fantasized about since the first time she’d seen him—since that initial, earth-shattering realization that Jason Todd wasn’t just another arrogant driver but someone who could unravel her with a single glance—was it finally unfolding right in front of her?

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to cry.

She wanted to kiss him with every ounce of pent-up longing she’d been carrying for months.

But fate, ever the cruel puppeteer, had other plans.

The shrill ring of her phone shattered the moment like glass, making both of them jump apart. Y/N turned away with a frustrated exhale, her fingers closing around the offending device where it lay on the table. The caller ID glared up at her: Dan-Dan.

Goddammit, Danny.

She swiped to answer, pressing the phone to her ear just as Danny’s voice exploded through the line, frantic and tinny. “Y/N, I think I’ll be late. Jason just took off to god-knows-where after the race, and we can’t reach him. I swear, if he keeps pulling this disappearing act—” A heavy sigh. “—this is going to ruin our entire championship run.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked reflexively toward Jason, who was watching her with an unreadable expression. “Okay, Dan,” she muttered, her voice carefully neutral. “Take your time. There’s no hurry.”

She ended the call before Danny could respond, her pulse hammering in her throat. Before she could even turn around, she felt him— the heat of Jason’s body pressing against her back, the solid weight of his arm sliding possessively around her waist. His other hand came up, fingers brushing the hair away from the nape of her neck with deliberate, agonizing slowness.

Then his lips were at her ear, his breath warm against her skin as he murmured, “So. This Dan of yours... does he know about us?”

The question—low, teasing, laced with something darker beneath the surface—sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. She froze, her fingers tightening around her phone.

Wordlessly, she shook her head.

The world narrowed to the searing heat of Jason’s touch, his fingers leaving invisible brands through the thin fabric of her shirt. His voice curled around her like smoke— dark, intoxicating, impossible to escape. Every coherent thought evaporated from Y/N’s mind, leaving only the frantic hammering of her pulse and the dizzying awareness of how close he stood. She couldn’t have strung together a sentence if her life depended on it— not when his breath fanned on her skin, not when every nerve ending screamed for more of his touch.

Y/N gasped as electricity crackled down her spine, her fingers clutching the edge of the table for balance. Then realization struck like lightning— he thought... he actually thought...

“How can you be with another man,” Jason continued, his voice dropping to a growl that sent shivers through her, “while wearing my racing number at the back of your neck like you’re mine, hmm?” His teeth grazed the sensitive skin where her tattoo lay hidden beneath her hair, the digits inked there in his signature font.

The possessive anger simmering beneath his words finally jolted Y/N into action. She whirled around so fast she nearly lost her balance, her hands coming up to brace against his chest. “Jason,” she blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush, “Danny’s my brother.”

The moment their karts screeched to a halt in the pit lane, Jason ripped off his helmet with enough force to make the straps snap. His face was flushed with adrenaline and indignation, sweat-dampened hair sticking to his forehead as he stormed toward Danny.

“Hey, dude! You totally pushed me off on Turn 5!” Jason yelled, his voice carrying over the hum of engines and the chatter of nearby spectators. His hands gestured wildly, replaying the move in the air between them. “That wasn’t racing—that was attempted murder!”

Danny, already unbuckling his own helmet, shot him an unrepentant grin as he hopped out of his kart. “You gave me no choice!” he called over his shoulder, already striding toward the pits where his family waited. “You left the door wide open!”

Jason gaped after him. “That’s not—! Ugh!” He threw his hands up in frustration before stomping after Danny, muttering under his breath the entire way. “Wide open, my ass. I was taking the racing line. Since when is ‘door open’ an invitation for vehicular assault?”

When they reached the pits, Danny peeled off toward his team, leaving Jason to fume alone. But Jason had a plan. If Danny wanted to play dirty, then fine—Jason would escalate this properly. He beelined for his own pit area, where Alfred stood waiting with his usual unflappable calm, a neatly wrapped sandwich in hand.

“Now, now, Master Jason,” Alfred said, his voice the epitome of reason as he extended the food toward the seething teenager. “Might I suggest refueling before launching your campaign for justice?”

Jason snatched the packet, tearing into it with a vengeance. “Danny totally pushed me off,” he declared through a mouthful of bread and filling. “It was clear as day! It was unfair. And worst of all—” He swallowed hard, pointing an accusing finger in Danny’s general direction. “— I know he smiled while doing it!”

Alfred’s lips twitched, though his expression remained otherwise neutral. “A truly heinous crime,” he agreed solemnly. “What do you propose we do about it?”

Jason’s eyes lit up with the fire of a thousand war strategies. He swallowed the last of his sandwich in one heroic bite, then jumped to his feet. “We fight him. And his team.” He jabbed a finger toward the offending party. “Full-scale retaliation. No mercy.”

Alfred chuckled, unable to fully suppress his amusement any longer. “Shall we call Mr. Dent as well, in case we require legal support for this… operation?”

Jason paused, considering this with all the gravity of a general preparing for battle. Then he nodded sharply. “That would seem prudent.”

Jason strode toward Danny’s team garage with the exaggerated stance of a warrior preparing for battle—chin lifted, shoulders squared, chest puffed out with righteous indignation. Behind him, Alfred followed at a measured pace, the faintest hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth as he observed his young charge’s theatrics.

But the moment Jason crossed the threshold into the rival pit area, the wind was abruptly knocked from his sails.

What he had expected—stern mechanics, maybe a few glares from Danny’s teammates—was nowhere to be found. Instead, the garage had been transformed into something out of a child’s fantasy. Vibrant streamers crisscrossed the ceiling, balloons in every color bobbed along the floor, and a cacophony of laughter and chatter filled the air. It was chaos. It was celebration.

Before Jason could process the scene, Danny’s mother spotted him. Her face lit up with recognition, and before he could protest, she had him by the shoulders, steering him firmly toward the center of the festivities. “Jason! Perfect timing!” she exclaimed, as if his arrival had been eagerly anticipated rather than an intrusion.

And then he saw her.

Perched proudly beside a lavishly decorated table stood a little girl—Danny’s sister, he realized. She couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven, dressed in a frilly pink-and-purple dress that shimmered under the garage lights. A tiny plastic tiara sat slightly askew atop her head and in one hand, she clutched a glittering fairy wand. Before her, a similarly coloured cake proclaimed “Happy Birthday!” in looping, pastel letters.

Jason froze.

Danny had mentioned his sister in passing—usually with a mix of exasperation and affection—but Jason had never actually met her. Now, faced with this tiny, beaming human, all his earlier fury evaporated like morning dew.

The birthday song started up and Jason found himself clapping along awkwardly, suddenly hyperaware of his grease-streaked racing suit amidst the pastel decorations. Any thoughts of confrontation fled his mind entirely when a paper plate bearing an enormous slice of cake was thrust into his hands.

Soon, he was perched on a stack of tires, happily devouring his cake with the single-minded focus of a teenager who’d been deprived of sweets for too long. Bruce monitored his diet with the vigilance of a prison warden—every carb counted, every calorie tracked. This impromptu sugar rush felt both like rebellion and reward.

Jason was so engrossed in his illicit cake consumption that he didn’t notice the tiny figure approaching until a shadow fell across his plate.

The birthday girl stood before him, her frilly dress swaying as she rocked back and forth on her shiny Mary Janes. Up close, her tiara glittered even more and her smile was so bright it could’ve powered the entire racetrack.

“Hello,” she chirped, her voice dripping with the effortless confidence of someone who’d never known rejection.

Jason blinked, hastily swallowing his mouthful of cake. “Uh. Hey,” he managed, wiping frosting from his chin with the back of his hand. His usual bravado had abandoned him entirely—what did one even say to a tiny human in a princess costume?

Undeterred by his awkwardness, she clasped her hands together and leaned in conspiratorially. “So I made a birthday wish,” she announced, as if sharing state secrets. “Mama said I shouldn’t tell anyone my wish or it won’t come true... but it’s you, so it’s okay.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up. There was something deeply alarming about being entrusted with this information. “What did you wish for?” he asked, against his better judgment.

“You!” she declared, bouncing on her toes with enough force to make her hair bounce.

The piece of cake Jason had just shoveled into his mouth became a dire choking hazard. He coughed violently, pounding his chest as frosting threatened to exit through his nose. “W-what?” he wheezed, eyes watering.

She beamed, utterly oblivious to his near-death experience. “I wished to have you as my boyfriend,” she clarified, butchering the word with adorable finality. “Mama said birthday wishes always come true. So...” She clasped her hands behind her back and batted her eyelashes. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Jason’s brain short-circuited. His gaze darted around the garage in panic, searching for Alfred—surely the man wouldn’t abandon him to this nightmare—but he had vanished without a trace.

A cold sweat broke out along Jason’s forehead. This was a minefield. Say no and he risked reducing a birthday princess to tears—an unforgivable sin. Say yes, and he’d never hear the end of it from Danny. 

“I, uh...” Jason’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat, scrambling for a diplomatic out. “That’s... that’s really flattering, but—”

Her lower lip began to tremble.

Oh god.

Jason’s stomach plummeted. He was not equipped for this. Where was Alfred? Where was Danny? Where was a natural disaster when you needed one?

 He shifted uncomfortably on the stack of tires, suddenly finding the remnants of his cake far more interesting than the expectant gaze of the fairy princess looking girl before him. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he searched for an escape route that wouldn’t end in tears.

“Umm, I’m kinda... concentrating on karting right now,” he hedged, gesturing vaguely toward the track outside. The words came out stilted, his usual cockiness nowhere to be found. “So, you know... not now.” He punctuated this with an awkward shrug, hoping it would be enough.

The birthday girl’s face fell slightly, her fairy wand drooping in her grip. “Then when?” she pressed, her earlier enthusiasm dimming just enough to make Jason’s stomach twist with guilt. The tiara atop her head seemed to lose some of its sparkle under the fluorescent garage lights.

Jason’s mind raced. He needed an out - something that would satisfy her without making any actual commitments. “When I make it to F1, maybe?” he blurted, the words tumbling out before he could reconsider. That should buy him at least a decade or so, he reasoned. By then, she’d have forgotten all about this ridiculous conversation— probably forgotten him entirely.

But her reaction wasn’t what he expected. Her eyes lit up like fireworks, all traces of disappointment vanishing in an instant. “You promise?” she gasped, bouncing on her feet with renewed excitement. 

He hadn’t anticipated this turning into some sort of binding agreement. “Uh...” he stammered, his gaze darting around the garage for any possible escape. Alfred was still conspicuously absent and he could feel multiple sets of eyes on him now— Danny’s family watching with barely concealed amusement, mechanics pretending not to eavesdrop. 

Before he could formulate a proper response, she extended her small hand toward him, pinky finger raised with solemn determination. “Pinky promise?” she demanded, her voice taking on an unexpectedly serious tone for someone dressed head-to-toe in princess attire.

Jason stared at the tiny outstretched finger like it was a live grenade. With a resigned sigh that seemed too world-weary for a fourteen year old, he reluctantly hooked his own pinky around hers, the gesture feeling absurdly formal.

“Promise.” 

Jason’s laughter rang out, rich and unrestrained, as the pieces finally clicked into place. “You’re her? The fairy princess with the tiara and wand?” His eyes sparkled with delighted amusement, shaking his head in disbelief. “All this time I was ready to throw hands with Danny and he’s just your brother? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Y/N’s cheeks burned crimson as she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, unable to meet his gaze. “Because it was mortifying enough the first time!” she burst out, her voice climbing an octave. “I didn’t need my childhood... whatever that was... haunting me now that we’re adults.” The memory of her ten-year-old self boldly proposing to a flustered teenage Jason still made her want to crawl into a hole.

With a tenderness that contradicted his usual brash demeanor, Jason crooked a finger beneath her chin, gently tilting her face up until their eyes met. “Hey,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along her jawline, “you made me promise you something pretty important that day, remember, doll?” 

Y/N’s breath hitched. The warmth of his touch, the proximity of his body, the way his eyes darkened with unspoken meaning— it sent her higher brain functions into overdrive. Panic flared through her system and before she could stop herself, she planted both palms against his chest and pushed him back with surprising force. “We can’t do this now,” she blurted out, her voice unsteady.

Jason stumbled half a step, confusion and hurt flashing across his features. “Y/N—”

“You have a race in a that will decide the entire season! The driver’s championship, the constructor’s championship— Bruce is counting on you, the whole team is counting on you.” Her words tumbled out in a frantic rush. “You can’t afford distractions, especially not... not because of me.”

Jason opened his mouth to protest, but Y/N - suddenly unable to bear the intensity of the moment— pivoted with forced lightness. “Besides,” she said, adopting a teasing lilt she didn’t quite feel, “my standards for a boyfriend have gotten significantly higher since I was ten.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up, catching her shift in tone. Crossing his arms, he leaned back with exaggerated nonchalance. “Alright, princess, let’s hear these lofty standards then.”

“Okay,” Y/N began, tapping a finger against her lips in mock contemplation as she circled him. “First, he has to be kind. Like, genuinely kind, not just when people are watching.” She held up a second finger. “Sweet, but not cloying— there’s a difference.” A third finger joined the count. “About... yea high,” she stretched onto her toes, holding a hand level with Jason’s forehead.

Jason snorted. “Demanding.”

“Blue eyes,” she continued, ignoring his interruption as she stepped closer, “with just enough green in them to make you wonder what color they really are.” Her finger came up to trace the air near his face, not quite touching. “Devastatingly handsome, obviously.” She took a final step back, folding her arms with a challenging smirk. “And a four-time world champion. That last one’s non-negotiable.”

Jason pretended to consider this, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. So I’ve got the height, the eyes... the devastating handsomeness is subjective I suppose.” He shrugged. “That last one though... guess we’ll have to see about that.”

Y/N’s smirk softened into something more genuine as she reached up to adjust his racing suit collar. “Oh, that last one’s the most important part,” she murmured, her fingers lingering against the fabric near his pulse point. “But something tells me you’ll manage. We’ll finish this conversation then.”

Jason’s answering smile was slow and devastating—the kind that had melted hearts on magazine covers worldwide. But this? This was just for her. Without a word, he held out his hand, his pinky finger extended in silent question.

Promise?

Y/N’s breath caught. The gesture—so simple, so them—unraveled something deep in her chest. She nodded, her vision blurring with unexpected tears as she hooked her pinky with his, their hands slotting together like they were made to fit.

“Promise,” she breathed.

When they unlinked their fingers, Jason did something that stole the air from her lungs—he brought his thumb to his lips, pressing a kiss to it before gently transferring the touch to her mouth. The warmth of it lingered long after he pulled away, a silent vow sealed between them.

The scorching Abu Dhabi sun beat down mercilessly on the Yas Marina Circuit. Long shadows stretched across the pit lane like grasping fingers as mechanics made their final adjustments, the air thick with the smell of burning rubber and high-octane fuel. Jason Todd stood motionless at the edge of Wayne Racing’s garage, his custom-painted helmet tucked under one arm, its polished surface reflecting the frantic activity around him. His eyes tracked down the start-finish straight with laser focus, watching as the last of the support vehicles cleared the track.

This was it.

The culmination of an entire season’s worth of blood, sweat and tears distilled into a single race. Twenty-two punishing turns of the most technically demanding circuit on the calendar. Fifty-eight laps that would determine whether all his sacrifices had been worth it. 

The championship standings couldn’t have been tighter— Jason and his arch-rival Kyle Rayner sat deadlocked on points coming into this final race. Winner takes all. No second chances. And if he somehow pulled this off, it wouldn’t just be his own driver’s championship on the line— Wayne Racing stood to claim their constructor’s title, continuing their stranglehold on the sport. 

Logically, he knew Y/N would stand by him regardless of today’s outcome. She’d proven that much already, weathering his storms with a patience he didn’t deserve. But that knowledge chafed against the raw, hungry part of him that needed to prove—to her, to himself, to the damn world that he was worthy. That Jason Todd could deliver on his word when it mattered most.

A familiar weight settled on his shoulder as Bruce stepped beside him, his grip firm and grounding. “No heroics out there,” the team principal and father murmured, his voice barely audible over the garage’s controlled chaos. His steely gaze held Jason’s. “We don’t need spectacular—we need smart. Bring it home clean.”

Jason gave a terse nod, his racing instincts already kicking in, but his attention was inexplicably drawn past Bruce to the timing screens. There, amidst the sea of engineers and data analysts, stood Y/N. Her arms were crossed in that deceptively casual way she had when trying to appear professional, but Jason had spent enough time studying her to recognize the subtle tells— the tension in her shoulders, the rhythmic tapping of her fingers against her elbow, the way she kept biting the inside of her cheek when she thought no one was looking. 

Their eyes met across the bustling garage. Without breaking contact, Jason’s lips quirked into a half-smile and he winked at her subtly.

The effect was instantaneous. Y/N’s professional mask shattered as a furious blush crept up her neck, staining her cheeks crimson. She immediately looked away, pretending sudden intense interest in a clipboard one of the engineers was holding, but not before Jason caught the way her breath hitched.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Alfred reminded him he probably shouldn’t be distracting himself right before the most important race of his career. But seeing her flustered reaction sparked something warm in his chest, cutting through the pre-race tension like sunlight through storm clouds.

The FIA official began waving drivers to their cars. As Jason turned to leave, he caught Y/N’s gaze one last time. No words were needed— the determination in her eyes mirrored his own as she gave him a slight nod. Whatever happened today, they were in this together.

Now all he had to do was win that world championship.

The moment the lights went out, the world erupted in a deafening rumble of raw power and desperation. Twenty Formula 1 cars exploded forward like bullets from a barrel, their engines screaming in unison, tires screeching as they fought for every inch of tarmac into the treacherous Turn 1. Jason Todd, locked in his #02 Wayne Racing machine, clenched his jaw and held his line with the precision of a predator—elbows out, refusing to yield an inch.

Kyle Rayner, in his blinding #10 neon green LC25, lurked in his mirrors like a specter, his front wing nearly touching Jason’s rear diffuser as he tried to force him toward the wall. The move was aggressive, borderline reckless, but Jason had expected nothing less.

“He’s playing dirty already,” Jason growled into the radio, his fingers tightening around the wheel.

“Ignore him,” Dick’s voice came through, steady as a metronome despite the chaos unfolding on track. “Stick to the plan. Tire management first. The race comes to us.”

For the first half of the Grand Prix, Jason did exactly that—measuring his pace meticulously, nursing his tires, preserving his fuel, all while keeping Rayner at bay. The laps ticked by in a blur of adrenaline and concentration, the desert heat baking through his visor, sweat trickling down his temples beneath his helmet. The championship hung by a thread—every overtake, every defensive move, every millisecond counted.

Then—disaster struck.

A backmarker, caught in the turbulence of the leaders, lost control in the final sector, spinning violently and slamming into the barriers. The safety car was deployed instantly, the field bunching up like a coiled spring, erasing Jason’s hard-earned three-second lead in the blink of an eye.

“This is it,” Dick’s voice crackled over the radio, the usual calm replaced by quiet intensity. “Final stint. No more calculations. No more waiting. It’s all on you now.”

Jason exhaled sharply, his grip on the wheel turning his knuckles white.

Just a little more.

A little more speed.

A little more courage.

A little more of himself poured into these last, fateful laps.

The moment the safety car lights went out, the pack surged forward like wild horses unleashed. Jason’s foot slammed the throttle just as the green flag waved, his car leaping forward with a vicious snarl. The final ten laps stretched before him. If he could just hold on, if he could just win, then he wouldn’t have to choose. Not between his love and his legacy. Not between Y/N and the championship. 

He could have it all.

The high-speed Turns 5-7 complex stretched before Jason like a ribbon of liquid asphalt, its sweeping curves demanding absolute precision. His Wayne Racing machine danced along the knife’s edge of adhesion, the Pirelli tires screeching in protest as he carried impossible speed through the esses. The g-forces pressed him deep into his seat, his neck muscles straining against the lateral load as the car flirted with the track limits.

In his mirrors, the neon green livery of Rayner’s Lantern Corps F1 car filled his vision, its menacing glow reflecting off his rear wing. The rival machine clung to his gearbox like a vengeful specter, never more than half a second behind, waiting for the slightest mistake.

“He’s saving battery,” Dick’s voice crackled through the radio, tense but controlled. “Expect an attack on the back straight.”

Jason’s eyes flicked downward for a millisecond, just long enough to register his energy display. One last push remaining—a precious 4 seconds of overtake boost. He’d have to time it perfectly, deploy it at the exact moment when—

The track opened up onto the massive 1.2 kilometer back straight and suddenly the battle erupted in earnest. Rayner’s car darted left, then snapped right, his movements unpredictable as he searched for any sliver of clean air to mount an attack. Jason countered each feint, weaving defensively while trying to maintain his racing line.

At 310 km/h, the concrete walls transformed into a dizzying blur, the sheer velocity making the world narrow to a tunnel of light and noise. Jason’s heart hammered against his ribs, each beat counting down the meters to the critical Turn 8 braking zone.

Then Rayner made his move— a desperate lunge down the inside. His front wheels locked momentarily, sending up puffs of smoke as he outbraked himself. For one terrifying second, Jason saw the neon green nosecone edging perilously close to his sidepod before Rayner somehow regained control, the cars avoiding contact by centimeters.

But the mistake cost Rayner dearly—his abrupt correction sent him wide, losing crucial momentum.

“These tires have no grip!” Jason snarled into the radio, his voice raw with adrenaline coursing through his veins. The once-reliable rubber now felt like blocks of ice beneath him, the degradation robbing him of the precise control he needed.

Through his visor, he could see the championship—his promise to Y/N—slipping away with every degrading lap. The desert air burned in his lungs, his fingers aching from their death grip on the wheel. Somewhere beyond the roar of the engine, beyond the screaming tires and the deafening rush of wind, he could almost hear the clock ticking down—

The final battle was coming. And neither man would yield.

“Push, Jason. Push.”

Dick’s voice cut through the radio, deceptively calm, but Jason could hear the razor-sharp intensity beneath the words. This was it—the moment that would define his legacy. Jason’s fingers locked around the wheel, his breath hitching as the walls of Turn 12 blurred past—too fast, too close. For a heartbeat, the track vanished.

Bahrain. The screech of tearing metal. The smell of burning rubber. The world flipping, crashing, darkness—

He blinked hard, forcing himself back into the present. The car shuddered beneath him, alive and responsive. Not then. Not now.

His eyes locked onto Rayner’s car ahead, studying every subtle movement. Then he saw it—the twitch in the high-speed corners, the slight hesitation as Rayner’s car fought for grip. His tires were fading. Fast. The rational part of Jason’s brain recognized the opportunity—the rubber was going, the gap was there but his pulse roared in his ears, a drumbeat of panic.

Breathe. Just breathe.

He could hear Y/N’s voice calling to him. She had held his hand and helped him out of a panic attack in his Monaco apartment. Soft, gentle, serene.

Jason held back, resisting the urge to pounce too soon. He conserved his battery, managed his energy, biding his time for one perfectly calculated strike.

The final lap began.

Through the sweeping Turns 11 to 14, Jason carved into Rayner’s lead, the gap shrinking to a razor-thin 0.3 seconds. The grandstands erupted as the two titans of the track roared past, engines howling, the air between them charged with rivalry. The crowd was on their feet, the roar of their voices lost beneath the scream of horsepower.

Then—Turn 19.

Jason played his hand. He feinted left, jinking toward the inside line, forcing Rayner to defend. This was chess at 200 miles per hour—every feint, every adjustment of throttle and steering wheel a calculated gambit. For a split second, Rayner’s focus flickered, his car drifting just a hair too wide on the exit. It was all Jason needed. And in that instant, Jason’s vision fractured.

The scent of scorched carbon fiber flooded his senses. The stomach-lurching sensation of his car crashing in Bahrain—the impact, the deafening silence afterward. His foot hovered over the throttle, muscles locking in phantom pain.

No.

He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. This isn’t Bahrain. This is now. And I’m not breaking.

Instinct took over.

Jason wrenched the wheel right, his car slingshotting to the outside with a violence that made his tires scream. The gap was barely wider than his car itself, but he hurled himself into it anyway, metal flashing past metal so close he could see the heat waves rippling off Rayner’s exhaust.

The world dissolved into sensation—the guttural roar of engines, the acrid taste of burning fuel, the vibration of the chassis trembling beneath him like a living thing. Rayner held firm, his car crowding Jason’s line, neither yielding an inch. For a heartbeat suspended in time, they were equals, locked in a duel where the smallest twitch meant triumph or disaster.

Then Jason’s mind cleared.

You don’t get to take this from me. 

His car inched forward. Millimeter by millimeter, he clawed ahead, his tires biting into the track with vicious determination. The nose of his Wayne Racing machine broke free first, then the hood, then the cockpit—until suddenly, irrevocably, he was leading.

The checkered flag unfurled in his periphery.

1. TOD 2. RAY +0.2

The radio erupted in a deafening crescendo of pure, unfiltered joy—a chaotic symphony of screaming engineers, clattering headsets, and the thunderous roar of the Wayne Racing pit crew losing all semblance of professionalism. Dick’s voice, usually so measured and calm, shattered into raw, unbridled emotion as he shouted himself hoarse, the words barely coherent through the static. Somewhere in the cacophony, Jason heard his own name chanted like a war cry, over and over, as if the team couldn’t believe what they’d just witnessed.

But to Jason, it all sounded distant, muffled, as if he were hearing it through several feet of water. His hands, usually so steady and sure on the wheel, now trembled with the aftershocks of the race. As his car coasted down the main straight, the world seemed to move in slow motion around him. His chest rose and fell in ragged, uneven gulps, each breath burning through lungs that had been holding tension for fifty-eight grueling laps.

The adrenaline was still there—a live current under his skin, making his fingertips tingle and his pulse roar in his ears. But beneath it, something deeper pulsed. Something quiet. Something heavy. It settled into his bones, into the marrow of him, a weight that had nothing to do with exhaustion.

Four-time world champion.

The words flashed across the timing screens in bold, triumphant letters. The commentators bellowed it into their microphones, their voices cracking with excitement. The crowd chanted it back like a mantra and fireworks coloured the skies. But the number meant nothing compared to the truth behind it. They didn’t account for the brutal crashes that had left him bruised and broken, the surgeries that had stolen months of his career, the endless rehabilitation sessions where he’d fought just to move without pain. They didn’t reflect those endless nights in anonymous hotel rooms, staring at water-stained ceilings while his mind replayed every mistake, every near-miss, every whisper of doubt that maybe— just maybe— Bahrain had broken something in him that couldn’t be fixed.

The doubt had been his constant shadow, a ghost that haunted every practice session, every qualifying lap, every overtaking attempt. It whispered in his ear when he pushed the car to its limits, reminding him of what happened last time he danced this close to the edge.

But today... today he’d grabbed that doubt by the throat and roared right back in its face. Every perfect apex, every daring overtake, every calculated risk had been a middle finger to his fears. That final, breathtaking pass hadn’t just been about beating Rayner. It had been about proving something to himself, to the world, to every person who’d ever wondered if he was done—that he wasn’t just back.

He was better.

“THE CHECKERED FLAG WAVES! JASON TODD, YOU ARE A FOUR-TIME WORLD CHAMPION! THE WORLD CHAMPION! The Wayne Racing garage has LOST THEIR MINDS— Dick Grayson is vaulting over the pit wall like a man possessed, the mechanics are screaming themselves raw—and look at Todd in that car, absolutely spent, but MY GOD, WHAT A DRIVE!”

This wasn’t just another championship added to his record. This was redemption made tangible, a phoenix moment forged from fire and steel and sheer, stubborn will. History books would record it as another victory, but Jason would always know the truth.

He hadn’t just made history today. He’d seized it back with both hands.

The moment Jason Todd climbed out of his car, the world seemed to hold its breath.

He stood atop the scorching-hot chassis, his racing suit streaked with sweat and the ghosts of past battles. The grandstands, a sea of color and noise just seconds before, fell into an eerie silence—thousands of eyes locked onto him, waiting. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Jason clenched his fist and thrust it skyward.

The crowd exploded.

The roar that followed was deafening—a tidal wave of sound that shook the very foundations of the circuit. Cheers, screams, the thunder of stamping feet—it all blended into one overwhelming symphony of triumph. Jason let it wash over him, his chest heaving, his body still vibrating with the remnants of adrenaline. For a moment, he simply existed in the pure, unfiltered joy of it.

Then exhaustion hit him like a freight train.

He stumbled slightly as he stepped down from the car, his legs unsteady after two hours of punishing focus. But he still managed to wave at the crowd again, a tired but genuine grin tugging at his lips as he turned toward the pits.

His team descended upon him like a hurricane—hands clapping his shoulders, voices shouting in his ear, bodies pressing in from all sides as they celebrated their hard-earned victory. Every thump on his back, every shouted was a testament to the battle they’d all fought together.

But Jason only had one thought in his mind.

Y/N.

And then—there she was.

A glimpse of her through the chaos, standing in the Wayne Racing garage, her face alight with pride. She was wearing the team’s hastily printed “FOUR-TIME WORLD CHAMPION” shirt, just like everyone else, but on her, it looked different. On her, it felt like his.

Their eyes met.

For half a second, hesitation flickered across her expression—her gaze darting to the cameras trained on them, the ever-present vultures waiting to dissect their every move. But then something shifted. A quiet defiance. A silent “Screw it.”

And she ran.

Jason barely had time to react before she was crashing into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, her body pressing flush against his sweat-soaked suit. He could feel the dampness of her tears against his cheek, the way her fingers trembled where they tangled in his hair. Without thinking, he hooked his hands around her waist and lifted, spinning her in a tight circle as she let out a breathless laugh.

His helmet hit the ground with a clatter, forgotten.

Forehead pressed to hers, breathing her in, Jason felt something settle inside him—something warm and sure and right.

“So,” he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion and emotion, “that’s another one off the list.”

A shaky exhale against his lips. “Yeah,” she whispered back. “Yeah, it is.”

He swallowed hard, his grip tightening around her. “I know there’s still a lot of work left. A lot of races. A lot of battles.” A pause. A heartbeat. “But Y/N... will you be mine? Really mine?”

She let out a choked laugh, her eyes shining. “Jason Peter Todd Wayne,” she breathed,“ I’ve been yours for a very long time.”

As Jason set Y/N back down on her feet, the team descended upon them in a wave of unrestrained joy.

Dick was the first to reach them, throwing an arm around Jason’s shoulders with enough force to nearly knock him off-balance. “You absolute madman!” he crowed, shaking him slightly, his grin wide enough to split his face. “That last overtake—I almost had a heart attack!”

Danny slapped Jason’s back hard enough to make him cough. “We were screaming so loud in the garage, the FIA probably thinks we’ve lost our minds!”

“Too late for that,” another engineer chimed in, shoving a hastily opened bottle of champagne into Jason’s hands. “We lost those years ago working with you lot!”

Jason laughed, twisting the cap off and taking a long swig before passing it to Y/N, who wrinkled her nose but took a sip anyway. The second the liquid touched her tongue, she made a face, and Jason barked out another laugh, pulling her closer.

“Oh, come on, don’t be a lightweight now,” he teased, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I’m not!” she protested, shoving at his chest half-heartedly. “That’s just objectively terrible!”

“It’s tradition!” Dick argued, snatching the bottle back and taking a dramatic swig before shaking it vigorously, sending foam spraying across the nearest group of mechanics. A chorus of shouts and laughter erupted as they retaliated, grabbing whatever bottles were within reach and shaking them like they were in a goddamn riot.

Bruce appeared at the edge of the chaos, looking as composed as ever—though the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes betrayed his amusement. “Try not to drown the entire team in alcohol before the podium ceremony,” he said dryly.

“No promises dad,” Jason shot back, grinning.

Someone—probably Tim, because he was a little shit like that—sneakily dumped an entire bottle of cold sparkling water down Jason’s back. Jason yelped, twisting around to glare at the culprit, but Tim was already ducking behind a grinning mechanic, hands raised in mock surrender.

“You’re dead, Drake!” Jason threatened, lunging for him.

Tim bolted, cackling and Jason gave chase—only to be intercepted by Alfred, who appeared with a towel in hand. “Master Jason,” he said, voice dripping with disapproval, though his eyes were warm. “You’re tracking champagne and sweat all over the garage.”

Jason grinned, unrepentant, but took the towel anyway, ruffling his hair with it before slinging it over his shoulder. “Sorry, Alfred. Got carried away.”

“Indeed,” Alfred sighed, long-suffering. “However, it is well-deserved”

Y/N appeared at Jason’s side again, her fingers tangling with his. “You’re a mess,” she informed him, though she was smiling.

Jason tugged her closer, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Your mess.”

She rolled her eyes, but the way her fingers tightened around his told him everything he needed to know.

The team’s celebrations continued around them—champagne spraying, voices raised in laughter, the occasional curse as someone slipped on spilled alcohol. The cameras still hovered at the edges, capturing every moment, but for once, Jason didn’t care.

Let them see.

Let them see the team, the family, the love.

Let them see what it meant to fight—and to win.

The celebration swirled around them—champagne foam catching in the golden afternoon light, laughter ringing like church bells, the scent of tires and triumph still clinging to the air. But for Jason, the world had narrowed to this: Y/N’s hand in his, her fingers laced through his own like they had always belonged there.

The team moved around them in a blur of joy—Dick draping an arm over Tim’s shoulders as they both laughed. Bruce stood slightly apart, his usual stoicism softened at the edges, pride glowing quiet but undeniable in his eyes with Alfred quietly wiping the stray tear at the corner of his eye. And Cass stood off to the side, that rare, soft smile playing at her lips as she watched her family. The garage was alive, electric, every heartbeat in sync with the pulse of victory.

Jason turned to Y/N, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. The noise faded into something distant, something unimportant.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

“Yeah,” he admitted, unrepentant. His voice was rough, scraped raw from shouting, from the sheer weight of everything he couldn’t put into words. “Just memorizing this.”

Her expression softened, something unbearably tender flickering in her eyes. “You don’t have to,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And that—

That was the real victory.

Not the gleaming trophy waiting on the podium. Not the headlines that would scream his name across the world tomorrow. Not even the deafening roar of the crowd still vibrating in his chest, echoing like thunder long after the storm had passed.

It was this.

Her.

The way her eyes held his like he was something worth keeping. The way she had stood by him through every crash, every setback, every moment he had doubted himself. The way she was here now, her palm pressed against his racing heart, as if she could feel the truth of it beating beneath her fingertips.

Jason leaned in, forehead resting against hers. Around them, the world kept moving—champagne bottles popping, cameras flashing, the announcer calling his name. But here, in this breath between seconds, it was just them.

“I love you,” he said, simple and sure.

Y/N’s smile was brighter than any checkered flag, any winner’s trophy, any sun-drenched finish line. “I know,” she whispered back, her voice thick with everything she didn’t need to say.

And when he kissed her—there, in the middle of the chaos, with the taste of victory and something infinitely sweeter on his lips—Jason knew, with absolute certainty, that this was the moment he would carry with him forever.

Not as the end of a race.

But as the first, glorious note of everything that came after.

╰┈➤ Masterlist

╰┈➤ Event masterlist

Tags: @joekitsu @sophiethewitch1 @hana-no-seiiki @thisisafish123 @ceramic-raven @millyhelp @blamedbisexual @trunkswithlonghair-blog @jasontoddthings @deans-spinster-witch @12134z03 @johnnysilverhandeeznuts @yasmin-oviedo @rosecentury @pierayanna @jinviktor @crybaby-21 @solarrexplosion @sahana28banana @ari-sama21 @princessbl0ss0m @fictionalwhor3 @leeleecats @lalalozer @shkosm @swamiiyasssss @lilyalone @cxcilla @one-pea-in-a-pod-blog @cooki3dough @misaki-kira8 @br0ke-b1tch @cherriespopsicle @lilithskywalker @multifandom-simp @hayleym1234 @sukaretto-n @idontwantthis22 @sarveshishwarishsuta @eclipse-msoul @aaaashiiii @wandabillywrites @star-born-mars @sinnamon-bunn @theendofthematerialgworl @mercuryathens @sugarwhiterose @lar3ine @raven-with-adhd @pezzeronii @federalprison78-4 @panacademics @itzmeme @pb-n-aj @4rachn3

A/n: I just winged the technical part of the race so please excuse that if there are any inaccuracies. There was so much more that I wanted to include, so i'll probably make another post with snippets of moments during, before and after the story. Feel free to request if you want to read anything in particular :)) Also do y'all want a smut fic of the championship celebration night with Jason? Lmk in the comments!!

© cheriecelestial - arabelle | 2025

[hedwig221b]

hi!! 🤗 do u have any fics with stiles and derek getting back together? like they broke up because of something and then the pack or whatever brings them back together

Hi, I don't read break-up fics, so I only know a few

waiting for you to say it first by��paradis

Four months. Four months they’ve managed to avoid one another. Stiles quit going to pack meetings. He quit doing research unless Scott really, really begged him to. He avoided driving the road that led out to the turnoff to the Hale house, he avoided going to all the spots where Derek might possibly be. Four months, and now, here they are, standing in the Minit Mart, Stiles thinks, staring down at the grimy tiles. He can hear the catch of Derek’s breath, and he closes his eyes and breathes deep.

The Unquiet Grave by Dexterous_Sinistrous

“Don’t cry,” the figure’s voice stated in what was meant to be a gentle tone as he calmly wiped Stiles’ tears away. “We’ll be together again soon, Marcello.” ~*~ After returning home to Beacon Hills, Stiles finds himself being stalked by a vampire who has mistaken him for its dearly departed lover of yore. Terrified out of his mind, Stiles turns to the pack for help—even if it does feel awkward asking for help from his Alpha slash ex.

You Remember It All; When I Loved You So by crossroadswrite

Derek takes a step forward and then stops. Stiles can see the way his muscles tense and tremble like he’s holding himself back by a hair. “What-“ his voice breaks, he gets a little choked off and has to drop his eyes. It’s been one year. He doesn’t think he can look at him after one year. “What are you doing here?” he mumbles into the floor, knows that Derek will hear him. “I-“

All Derek Ever Wanted by Dexterous_Sinistrous

Stiles knew Derek always wanted a big family. And, for the longest time, he thought he'd be the one to give it to him. Life, devastatingly, has other plans. Prompt: "I've been thinking about omega stiles n alpha derek. They're trying to hav a baby. But one day stiles go to the doc, n he imply that stiles can't get pregnant. Stiles keep it secret and try to make derek divorce him."

I Shouldn't Love you Anymore by wulfarchival (wyrmwolf)

After Stiles divorces Derek under mysterious reasons, Derek moves out into the middle of nowhere loosing himself to the wolf after the ache in his chest becomes too much. But after weeks of being lost to an animal someone he thought he'd never see again returns in his life. This time ti stay forever.

[masterlist link]

[unvrsoflyly]

Simple.

— content: 1.4k, fluf, gn reader, pre established relationship (can be seen as platonic ngl), modern!au, horribly bad at design choices phainon mentioned, HAPPY PHAINON BC HE DESERVES IT☹️☹️, miiight be ooc bc it was written on a whim and i really focused more on his silly little happy guy persona more for this one, eng is not my first language + NOT PROOF READ so be ready for errors😔

note: hi hiii!! omg posted two ff in a year, shockers! hope you like this one, i wish there was more phainon content with how brainrotted i am so i made smth, might not be super super good bc erm i always write when im tired, anyways hope you enjoy this little thing one week before his banner! (him and his lightcone WILL come home.)

! art creds to hoyoverse (honkai: star rail)

Moving in with Phainon felt oddly simple. So eager to share his space with someone he loves and excited to see parts of his partner’s mundane life under the same roof as his. It was only going to be three days since they moved in. There’s boxes half empty still scattered around the apartment. The furniture is all in its place, but it looks so stiff and out of place in the new environment.

Phainon makes the new domestic feelings of living with a significant other so easy. Waking up to a simple good morning in person, not by a simple string of words on a screen. Watching each other’s routine before heading out for their respective responsibility. Laughing because of how horrible the new recipe cooked together looks. Lazing around the house in a comfortable silence with no pressure to express unnecessary thoughts. They know they could get through the eventual challenges that will come their way together, no matter the difficulty.

So, it’s not a surprise to wake up to a happy boyfriend almost every morning, but today he seemed more enthusiastic (if it’s even possible…) “We’ve been working all these days to make it our home, but it’s missing one thing” is what he said before falling asleep, promising to organize an activity. A surprise. He won’t even slip one word. Is he planning to show his newly bought decorations? As much as Phainon is a sweetheart, his choices in aesthetics are really peculiar. It was endearing, yes, but who would want eventual visitors to be met with a blasting mess of colours.

Either way, today’s the day to find out his scheming. Nothing was out of the ordinary. He usually woke up first because he liked to do a little run around the block. He’s mostly doing this these past few days to look around the place. He seems to know a bunch of things now: restaurants, cafés, small shops, parks and even some people living close by. The sound of a door opening made you head to the entryway. Tuff of slightly damp hair from the exercise is the first thing you can see while he removes his shoes. There’s a small package beside him.

“And me who hoped you’ll finally join me on a small run today” he sighs. He won’t push more, he’s more on the active side but would never force it on anyone, though sometimes he wished you would move a bit more to keep a healthy body. “Keep dreaming, it might end up happening” you laughed, eyeing the package. “Did you eat something before leaving? I cut some fruits if you want” he looked at the plate in your hand, filled with the fruits he remembers picking for you, thinking it would be refreshing for the start of the summer season. He thanks you while taking a piece of apple and heads to the living room with his mysterious new purchase.

His voice gets you out of your questioning daze. “Yesterday, I ran into a small shop selling some arts and craft supplies. I thought it would be fun to create our own matching mugs!” You remember mentioning to him how silly it would be to do them once you move in together. He got a bit flustered knowing he would get teased over his design choices though his eyes showed how excited he was to the idea. He was always willing to do silly couple things if it meant passing more time together.

You head closer to where he was putting down the blank mugs and the variety of paints. You decide to go take a cup of water for the little paint brushes still in his hands and some worn out towels to clean them in between colours. He installed some of the decorative couch pillows on the floor to sit down on. You looked at the big amount of supplies for two people spread on an old towel with familiar cartoonish faces of an old childhood show (he insisted on keeping it.) Not like you were completely broke, but you were still figuring out the whole ‘depending on our own source of income for survival’ thing, so you wondered if he took it from his personal savings just to be safe.

You sat down and put the plate of fruits aside, waiting for some sort of instructions. All he did was let a little laugh escape while putting the mug in your hands, giving you the green light to let your creativity free. Only one rule: paint the mug he will be using.

You started painting simple forms with pastel colours, easier to make them fit with each other. While he was painting, he shared bits and pieces of what he encountered this morning. A young boy heading to school who looked at him the wrong way (maybe because he purposefully chose those horrendous flashy socks that he swears are practical and fashionable), an elderly woman who’s been praising him ever since he helped her with her groceries or the dog he saw at the park on his way back.

You wondered what he could be painting with such a focused expression on his face, his brow’s knitting lightly and you could swear he was close to sticking his tongue out. You knew arts wasn’t one of his strengths, but he was willing to try and learn. If it’s from his heart, it will hold more value then any piece you can buy. Over time, stains of multiple shades are all over the towel accompanied with the mess spread on the skin of your hands.

After a while, the sun was fully up in the sky and by that time the masterpieces were dried enough to do a reveal. Phainon insisted on seeing yours first. He sneaked a look every now and then, he couldn’t wait to see how it turned out!

You held his mug out. It was a simple field painted like a talented young child would do. There were flowers and trees covering the ground decorated with a beautiful sunny sky with bits of clouds. At the front, there was a dog with white fur and blue highlights leaning its head on a greyish cat sitting beside it. Your friends often compared him to a very loyal dog. In that case, you would be the cat. Calmer, more reserved, but still very affectionate to the people you cared for. You wanted to make a scenery reminiscent of his rural hometown. He told you many times how he cherishes this place and growing up there made him who he is today. It’s not much, but you hoped you gave him a bit of his home from the glimpse you saw the first time you visited.

The shine in his eyes tells you enough: he loves it. He hugs you exclaiming how cute this is! And how adorable the both of you would be as cats and dogs! He pulls away and puts his hand over your eyes. “It’s not as pretty as yours, but I hope you like it still.” He finally hands you his masterpiece and removes his hand obstructing your vision.

You are met with a wonky ‘I ♡ my bf’ with an equally awkward self portrait of himself as a stick figure inside the heart. He always teased that he would buy a set of personalized shirts like those, whether it’s going to be stay at home clothes is up to you, but you know he would wear that proudly. You were drawn right beside it, with some sort of pointy arrow to signify you are the one saying this loud and clear. You stifle a sweet laugh before looking up to meet clear blue eyes already fixated on you, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Soooooo.. do you like it?” You nodded before leaning in for a hug.

He did make the big step of living with a significant other for the first time easy, or at least he tries to. He’s always so eager to spice up the day and make it special, even if it’s one of those mundane repetitive days. He doesn’t expect you to necessarily do things the exact same way, but you are sure you’ll try to show your care in your own ways, in ways he will understand like you understand his.

Yeah, moving in with Phainon is simple.

thank u for reading! - all rights reserved, ask before reposting somewhere or doing a traduction

[little-vulpecula]

Adding my own ideas

Kayo going on an undercover mission at a gala or something (bonus points if Lady P and Parker are there too)

Kayo having a sort of mystery/detective themed episode

Give the characters more than just one regular outfit

A couple of cameos or more mentions of Kyrano (bonus points if he calls Kayo Tin-Tin as a nickname)

Reunion of Jeff and Captain Lee Taylor (they are best friends after all)

A hurricane episode (just like a normal hurricane, i.e. not induced by The Hood or anyone else) which takes a long time to complete rescue work due to the scale and severity. I want to see what it's like when they are stuck dealing with one really tough rescuee for hours on end

Brains going undercover, like I'm pretty sure he does in TOS

More Brains backstory

A rescue where they are unable to save everyone (and the ramifications of that)

and to reiterate what @thebirdfantasy has said, more development for PenInk. I like them together but I always wished that we could've seen more. For example, maybe a B plot of an episode could've been Lady P visiting Tracy Island and spending the day with Gordon, who is trying to impress her and ignore the taunting of his brothers

Do u wanna play a game?

We can totally get to 100 fun things we wish we’d got to see in Thunderbirds Are Go (fun things, not ur shitlist) Reblog til we get to 100 😄😄😄

1. Virgil exercising in the gym in the roundhouse. In the name of science and stuff, and for the good of all mankind, we deserved to see that boy’s exercise routine at least once. Preferably shirtless. For science.

2. Thunderbird One carrying Thunderbird Four like a lil baby duck

3. Virgil piloting Thunderbird One whilst Scott pilots Thunderbird Two. They’d hate it 😆

4. TRACY INDUSTRIES - like how did Papa Jeff get all that $$$$$$$ for IR?

5. Papa Jeff’s infamous flamingo shirt

6. Those cute lil beach huts below the villa on Tracy Island

7. That mysterious tunnel above TB4’s lil fishie tank. Where does it goooo?

8. Exactly how TB4 gets from her fish tank and into her module ready for launch

9. A bottle episode where such a bad storm hits the island, they’re all grounded idek. Give me Scott trapped with his lil brothers and give me those lil brothers with no escape from their big bro God help them

10. Scott’s walk in wardrobe. Give me beautifully tailored suits and shiny shoes or give me death

🙌 🙌 🙌  your turn 🙌 🙌 🙌  hit me 🙌 🙌 🙌

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Don’t it seem like a good time for swimming

(Sam Winchester x female reader)

Summary Sam at the beach is a sight to behold. It just seems like a good time for swimming (and other things). CWs Indulgent descriptions of Sam's body. Some slightly naughty water fun. Some more naughty hotel room fun (nothing crazy explicit). 18+. 1k words AN This is my (first of many) entry to the gorgeous, wonderful and brilliant @ambiguous-avery's Summer Snapshot Challenge! I wrote this while at the beach, although without any moose action. Hope you enjoy! And thank you, Avery, for starting this beautiful challenge!❤️ Fic title is from Adrianne Lenker's "Donut Seam".

Sam Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

Your bottom lip is about to have two tooth-sized holes if you keep going like this. But you're pretty sure if you stop biting it, you're gonna hump the deck chair under you.

Sam is leaned forward on his own just ahead and to your right. A leg on each side, muscular calves leading to sexy feet - since when are feet sexy? You don't know, but Sam seems to have the answer - buried in the sand. Up over thighs you want, need, to explore the inside of. Dark green swimming trunks pulled tight over his ass from how he's sitting. Then his lower back, soft-skinned and curved, broadening towards his shoulders. Dark hair tickling the back of his neck. Gorgeous face in deep concentration as the back of his index finger runs over his bottom lip, the other one holding down the flapping pages of his book.

It's simply too much.

You more or less jump off your chair, snatch the orange tube of sunscreen. You half hop the few feet over to him, the sand burning your toes. Sam barely has time to perk up his head before you're straddling the chair behind him, pressed in close.

“Enough with the nose in the books number,” you say, bringing your mouth as close to his ear as you can from this position, already shaking the tube, the thick liquid sloshing around in it. “It's very mysterious and sexy, but it's time to have some water-based fun.” 

Sam huffs, turns his head to put his bookmark between the pages, then drops the book and leans back. His warm skin meets your front and you snuggle against him.

“You're right,” he says. He raises his hands like he's showing you he's unarmed. “Sorry.”

You shake the tube one more time, then open it, squeeze a generous helping into your hands. Close it, drop it, mush your hands together and then put them over Sam's shoulder blades.

Run them down. Streaks of white on tan skin. You know how bitter it tastes from the bit you got on your lips when covering your face, but it looks like some kind of melting treat. Two long stripes, becoming more faint, down to where skin meets trunks. Sam lets out a slow breath.

“You're forgiven,” you say, letting your voice dip low. “So long as you go in the ocean with me.”

You do the appropriate amount of squealing when the waves travel over your ankles, then again when they hit your stomach. Hands waving, hopping. Sam grins at the display, the water not as high on him due to his stature, but he leans down, collects some with his hands, rubbing it over himself to get his body used to the temperature. Real adult shit.

Still, when he's up to his hips, you cling on to him. Your skin is slick against each other from the sunscreen and sweat, and Sam's all warm and delicious-smelling. He pulls you close and, feeling the effects of the sun and freedom fill up your soul, you do a little jump, wrap your legs around him, the light weight the water is giving you making you look mostly elegant.

Sam turns with you in his arms and you laugh, drop your head back before leaning forward, clinging on to him for dear life. You think he's gonna threaten to throw you, but he doesn't. One of his hands is gripping your thigh, one your ass. You kiss the side of his face, and he turns his head, looks at you before kissing you properly.

It turns, the way those things just sometimes do. You grind yourself against him, feel his response against the inside of your thigh. Nip at his earlobe when you hug him again, cause that's the kind of little shit you are.

Sam's expression has changed the next time you see his face. Lids lower, something almost fox-like around his eyes. One quick look at your lips, one squeeze of his hand. Something unmistakable between you.

Your back hits the hotel bed mattress and you giggle as Sam crawls over you, but he quickly shuts you up with his mouth. Getting your wet bikini and his trunks off is a lot of work, but it's well worth it.

You told everyone you'd forgotten your sunglasses in the room. Didn't explain why both of you are needed to retrieve them. The look Dean and Jody threw each other let you know they weren't buying it.

But you couldn't care less. As you wrap your arms around Sam's shoulders, press your mouth against his neck, whimper at his movements, your head is blissfully emptied. The sunscreen is still bitter where it left a sheen, but there's also saltiness and sweetness. A whole buffet of perfect tastes. 

The door to the balcony is open, and over both of your panting and gasping and sweet whispers of love and lust, you can still hear the ocean. Its slow waves, so similar to the way Sam moves within you. Assured, strong and yet endlessly gentle. A soft breeze comes in, tickling all the parts of you not covered by Sam.

You turn your head, catch his lips again. Sam slows, too absorbed with kissing you and only when you tightening your legs around him, the same way you did in the waves, it reminds him of what's happening. Before he starts moving again, he pulls his head back, looks into your eyes. Watches you, like he can never get enough. Like you're some kind of magical creature having appeared before him.

When he rolls off you, chest heaving and you sling your arm over him, he kisses your forehead. You press your cheek against his warm chest.

“Told you a vacation was a good idea,” you say between deep breaths. Sam chuckles, runs his palm over your forehead to smooth back your hair.

“Alright, you win,” he says and you can only close your eyes and smile broadly.

[beastyeastfreak]

PLEASE SILENT SALT HEADCANONS AND MY LIFE IS YOURS, LITERALLY ANYTHING SMUT YANDERE FLUFF IDC..

YEAAAAAAH

im doing something short because im busy with my j*b and lowkey demotivated #savemefromhell

The first half will be regular headcanons and the second will be nsfw

Cw and tags: Romantic, silent salt has a cool horse, theyre kinda a typical knight, nsfw, souljam play, clothed sex, GN! Reader, both reader and ssc have ambiguous genitalia

Written before the silent salt update, purely speculative, watch all of this become inaccurate once theyre out

Normal headcanons

🗡️ - Silent salt is a being of solitude, after whatever occured which caused them to become a beast they became the furthest from the group. They inwardly dislike their fellow beasts, the second they see fit to not be around them, they will take the first chance to leave. Their land is as quiet as they are, it echoes with focus and loneliness. Whenever you arrive, witnessing a land dark and barren, you are loud. It doesn’t matter if you are quiet as a mouse, you are loud.

🗡️ - However you manage to even get Silent Salt to willingly stay in your presence is a mystery. Though trying to get them to save you in order to get closer is fruitless, one a light of Solidarity they now would rather be a bystander or the cause of the issue. So what would attract silent salt? A common goal, a similar attitude, or battle prowess that can withstand their own. Despite now disliking the thought of standing as one unit, if you can prove them wrong and stand with them or help them in some way, they may just try to find out more about you.

🗡️ - Their other interests may include, strangely enough, music. Just because it’s a land of silence doesn’t mean you cant listen to a good playlist sometimes. If you want to do be around them, go on a patrol with them. They wont talk but they love to hear you speak while you both ride on their horse together. It gives them the opportunity to be close with you without seeming like theyre returning to their ways.

🗡️ - I think theres no cookie beneath that armor in the sense they lost their ability to connect with others. Whether that represents physically and there is no true cookie body beneath the metal and just a living suit of armor or there is one, they dont want to be seen. Being seen allows another to see themselves in them, to connect, to feel for them. They want to be seen as a machine, unfeeling and cold. But when they hold you and place their helm against you, you feel the warmth, you know a soul remains just deep within.

🗡️ - They definitely try to kiss you, emphasizing try. They either forget they have a helmet on and get caught up in the moment or simply cannot remove the helmet/their head is the helmet and you have to kiss that. Either way, kissing them earns their heart quickly because it shows you don’t mind it and still see them for them. They make up for not being able to do things like that with gifts. Anything from roses from the garden of delights to foods from the farthest kingdom, they will get for you.

Nsfw headcanons below

🗡️ - BOTTOM next question. After years of isolation they would prefer you take the lead, also i doubt they got around much even before they turned. That being said they are very pent up but are always quietly handling it, so when you come around its a huge change to them. They don’t say anything, but you know when they’re ready, they make it pretty clear through body language. This isn’t to say they wont take control, they’re strong and they’d want to use that strength in bed at least once.

🗡️ - Whatever genitalia they have, i dont think matters. If you believe in the ‘just a living suit of armor’ theory like me your next bet is the souljam. They’ll invite you onto their lap after a drawn out fight, slumped slightly. Under the guise of taking care of them, you run your hands over them while whispering lovely little words against their helmet. They flinch as you run over their souljam located around their mid chest with plates of armor molded around it. What sounds like a night breeze wafting through a creaky metal roof is the only way to describe the noise made, their back arching towards you.

🗡️ - While you caress and press along the crystal in repeating motions their souljam, their hands will explore along you, maybe accidentally ripping your clothes a bit but eventually reaching into groping. They’ll enjoy it if you talk them through it, but if they’re in control they’ll try to keep you quiet. Fingers grabbing against your sex while they stand from behind, edging when they feel like it. Their other hand, still armored, rests on your mouth to keep you shut up. Especially funner if you’re in a place with thin walls or where someone could hear.

[1-800-local-slut]

Stiles and His Horny Girl

I want this white man in my guts, but I can't have that so instead we get this. Enjoy :)

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

You two are horny, almost all the time. Stiles, who played with himself twice a day before you got together and who damn near couldn't keep his hand out of his pants at any given moment

I feel like being in the pack with Stiles would be so stressful but make the sex so worth it

Like, it would be really, really frustrating to have no one listens to him. And when Stiles get stressed, he tends to lash out physically. Even if it's just about something like where they should all get lunch that evening.

So, you always benefit

Like when no one wanted to listen to Stiles about something being wrong with Lydia's front tire, and then the car broke down on the highway, then he had to change the tire with Scott in 97 degrees under the California sun

That night, he came home and had one of your legs over his shoulder while he whispered degrading words in your ear that had to shaking responding to ever nasty thing he said with an affirmative

Noah always knew Stiles was a bit more...excited than some teenagers. The last time he borrowed Stile's laptop, he almost had to bleach his eyes. He just didn't need to know about his son's preferences and now he just knows way too much. And since then, he hasn't been able to look at Stiles the same.

He always hoped that Stiles's delusions about sex wouldn't hinder him in a real relationship, but the noise canceling headphones he had to buy said otherwise.

You just looked so nice! When you came in for the first time, charming and sweet, he was sure that Stiles would have to try being normal for a bit. Then he came home one night and heard a moan that had him scared he'd be a grandfather soon.

No one expects you two to be the way you are. Except for Scott, he's been subjected to hearing Stiles's insane thoughts about you for the past two years since you transferred in the school. Like that time, they ran into you at the mall when you had on biker shorts and the minute you turned to walk off Stiles went from sweet, cute Stiles, to scaring the crap out of Scott with how badly he was describing his need for you.

And you were no better. Your friends were damn near victims. Hearing about how hard you fucked yourself while thinking about Stiles, seeing you turn into an entirely different person whenever he was close by. Why you wanted this guy to throw you around like a rag doll was a mystery to your friends. I mean, sure they knew he was handsome. You just had thoughts about Stiles that would kill a nun.

Honest to God, I don't know which one of you is worse. It's probably Stiles to be honest, you do egg him on though.

You don't care where you are, you want him real bad sometimes. Even if that's in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night (y'all are dying first in a slasher movie for sure) and you two are supposed to be investigating something. You'll push him against a tree, before you're making out and unbuckling his belt. He can't exactly argue when the feeling of you giving him a handjob through his boxers is making his head spin and his tip leak. Somehow you try end up dry humping (BRING BACK DRY HUMPING) before your entire body is shuddering, and Stiles is gripping your hips with his eyes shut while he stains a pair of his boxers.

Your werewolf friends have had the misfortune of hearing you two. No one, and I mean not one of them, needed to know that you like being choked. Or that Stiles liked being bitten. You two don't do stuff in front of people, because that just gives creep so that's not the move but it's not your fault half of the town has supernatural hearing. Honestly at a certain point they should just stop coming over at night.

There are times when you two are apart and can't go at it for a while. Stiles will beat his dick raw; the man is addicted to you. He's obsessed. He's pathetically rewatching videos of you two. You deepthroating him until your eyes are red and teary. You bouncing on his cock while scratching down his abs. Him eating you out while you urge him on with moans of his name. Oh, and the videos of him hitting it from the back with a hand tangled in your braids while you squeal moans of approval. It doesn't help that you both have a really high sex drive so he's basically getting laid every day then has to go to getting absolutely nothing for probably months. It's also worse because he's madly in love with you and sex helps him feel so close to you.

If you're smart forget about it. Stiles is smart but he can't focus at all. You help him by studying with him, and Stiles could listen to you talk literally all day. Then about three hours in he's focusing on your lips and the way they pucker just a bit when you bite the inside of your cheeks to focus. Somehow, he ends up slowly kissing you until you're laying down. Then oops! He's eating you out while you expertly deep throat him with your hips wiggling from the stimulation.

To cut a long ass story short, y'all are freaked the fuck out, that's it. And neither of you want it any other way.

[yandere-sins]

Your drugged reader gave me so many ideas. What if the yandere decides to add something into the drug that is supposed to be good for the reader, but actually gets them sick or causes them pain?

Also, I personally take medication for anxiety and ADHD. Would they remove me from my medication, or would they mix them together? Mixing the medication would be very bad, I’m pretty sure mixing stuff isn’t good, but I don’t think going cold turkey would be very appealing.

I’m just really interested in the possibilities now

It really depends on the situation, I think!

Suppose the yandere has been interested in you for a very long time. In that case, they'll probably be aware of your medication and how to obtain it. They may have even researched potential cross-reactions to it. That's especially true for a yandere who takes pleasure from making you miserable. Wouldn't want you to bleed out just because they didn't check for blood thinner, eh?

This kind of yandere might even punish you by going cold turkey. By letting you suffer through your predicaments and waiting for you to beg and plead with them to get your meds. They'll keep asking you if you'll behave and be a good darling. All you need to do is assure them over and over before they make you eat your pill out of their mouth with enough saliva instead of water to swallow it.

With a medical background, they could also possibly use the reactions of certain drugs and medications to mold you into their own fantasies of you. Whether it is you being unconscious or vulnerable or helpless, so they have to take care of you. Or, of course, needy, horny, desperate. A psychosis could also lead to you clinging to them, so it might actually be what they want to see from you.

A yandere with a medical background will also have less trouble if they fall in love with you spontaneously and you have a reaction to the drugs they use to take you out or the withdrawal symptoms you are showing. They get to "play god" and decide what to do with you, indebting you to them in a way, and feeling really good about helping you if they manage to solve the mystery of what you need to survive now.

An unprepared yandere who you have to tell first what you need and how you feel after they administered their drug will probably panic first until they get the situation under control. They'll go steal some meds for you first, making sure you take them before figuring out how to procure them long-term so they can keep you with them. As for accidentally fucking up on the drugs, they'll think twice about what kind of drug and/or dose they give you next time. If it's just a punishment thing or if they can benefit from adjusting the medications so you are more open to their advances in any way possible.

I think it really depends on the situation in which you are kidnapped and also the personality of the yandere (whether they use their knowledge to keep you alive or to hold something over you), so reactions can be very different. I suggest talking to them about it anyway since I don't think any yandere would be okay with letting you die, lol!

[mjldx7]

okay so, this is an AU where Shen Yuan first transmigrated as Shen Jiu as a child. Even with his adult knowledge though the system made him go through all of the originals backstory stuff. Living on the streets, the Qiu Manor, Demonic Cultivation, everything. He follows in the original goods footsteps to say the least, but, during that qi deviation where svsss starts. Shen Yuan ends up losing all those memories of his time as Shen Jiu, only remembering his first life as Shen Yuan. So, svsss plot happens, all the way up to the sower incident in jinlang city. Which is where our story starts. (Trigger warnings, some unpleasant topics relating to Shen Jiu's past in the Qiu Manor are brought up, don't read if you feel like it might make you uncomfortable)

...

'-shit! Why of all times did Without-a-Cure have to act up! Could it not have waited until I wasn't getting chased by Luo fucking Binghe!?! Who, mind you shouldn’t even be out of the abyss for another two years!'

[HOST IS ALWAYS WELCOME TO ENACT A SCENARIO PUSHER ☆\(•v<)/☆]

'Oh fuck you system! Yes, do the damn scenario pusher! Why couldn't you offer that sooner!?!'

"Shizun"

Shen Yuan was not expecting that the scenario pusher would cause him to fall through the roof of an apothecary shop. Nor did he expect to crash into a box of bright pink powder and make it explode all over him. System why!?

Shen Yuan could see Luo Binghe jumping down from the rooftops he was just chasing him on and approaching the shop, but Shen Yuan's head was spinning. His body didn't seem to want to listen to him.

All he could see before he blacked out was the figure of a man in front of him, not one that was his white lotus, no, one man that felt so disgustingly familiar. And Shen Yuan Jiu felt terrified of what he saw.

...

"qi-ge, why?? Why wouldn't you come back for me!?-"

"Well of course a brat like you would take well to demonic cultivation, after all-"

"A-Luo! A-Lou! No, No! A-Jiu why-"

"You'll come back for me?"

"I promise."

All Shen Yuan Jiu could hear where screams. His head felt as if it was splitting open. All around him he could see scenes that felt too familiar. He could feel everyhing in each memory he saw. The whips, the stray dogs, the qi deviations, that man touching him... He was in agony, he couldn't tell what was real or fake. He felt angry but at the same time he couldn't feel at all, why-

[CONGRATULATIONS! CONGRATULATIONS! CONGRATULATIONS! IMPORTANT THINGS MUST BE SAID THREE TIMES!]

System! Why-

[HOST HAS UNLOCKED PAST MEMORIES, +500 B POINTS HAVE BEEN ADDED TO HOST'S ACCOUNT! A NEW MISSION HAS BEEN UNLOCKED ,/(>v<)/*]

But these aren't my memories! They can't be, they're the original's-

[THESE ARE VERY MUCH HOST'S OWN MEMORIES, HOST ONLY JUST GOT THEM BACK AND HE IS SO UNGRATEFUL. THIS SYSTEM THOUGHT HOST SEEMED SO HAPPY HAVING THEM GONE. (^-^?)]

But-

[EITHER WAY! THIS SYSTEM THOUGHT HOST SEEMED TOO HAPPY HAVING HIS MEMORIES GONE. AFTER ALL, THE ☆PLOT☆ MUST CONTINUE WITH A GOOD STORY! AND WHAT MAKES A BETTER STORY THEN HOST'S NEW MISSION?]

["YOUR HEARTS BEEN BROKEN, SO LET ME HELP YOU PIECE IT BACK TOGETHER." COMPLETION OF THIS MISSION WILL RESULT IN ??? ADDITIONAL B-POINTS AND A MYSTERY ITEM! FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION. DOES HOST ACCECPT?]

[YES/NO]

...

(THIS WILL BE CONTINUED, I SWEAR, I HAVE IDEAS I JUST NEED TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO WORD THEM, PLEASE THIS WILL NOT BE ANOTHER INCOMPLETE IDEA)

[platypus-brained]

Is Linda a bad Mom?

Is this a “yes” or “no” question? Is it more complicated? Ultimately, that’s up to you!

Is she the best cartoon Mom? No, she has obvious flaws but in my opinion she’s not all bad! Especially compared to Doofenshmirtz’s Mom!!!

But I understand why some people don’t like her and viewer perspective plays a key role. A younger audience is more likely to see Linda as a bad Mom, while an older audience is more likely to see the bigger picture (and it can depend on the amount of times you’ve watched the show)

Angry that Linda doesn’t see what the boys do? Yes, it can be very annoying but it’s not really her fault because the show intentionally keeps Linda unaware if we apply real world logic, so the real blame is the “mysterious force” and the script

Also Linda’s in her 40s to 50s so it makes sense she’s struggling to believe or keep up with her hyper 15 year old daughter (16 in the revival) but she still continuously answers her phone to come home and lets Candace drag her to the backyard

Think that Linda calls Candace “crazy” or is a “dismissive” or “neglectful” Mom? Yes, there are instances that support this but think about real world logic again because we the viewers see everything but Linda doesn’t. Also think how when Candace screams at Linda that the boys have build some crazy thing EVERY single day and Linda repeatedly doesn’t see anything then those words lose all meaning

How you’d feel if you had someone who kept interrupting you every time you were shopping, cooking, watching a movie, hanging with friends, at the dentist, sleeping, etc to try to show you something you never actually see? Linda has dealt with that for months if not YEARS

You can roll your eyes at me, but admit there’s truth in the points I’ve made! If you can’t see it then you’re in denial just like how Linda’s in denial that her kids have more than “overactive imaginations”

Anyway, I’m going to go over some episodes in non-chronological order that indicate Linda is a good parent (not perfect but not bad)

Don’t like long posts? Then this isn’t for you😅

(By the way, I’m not counting what Linda does in “Phineas and Ferb get Busted” because that was a dream within a dream within a dream)

• In the episode “Mom’s Birthday” Linda is shown to love and appreciate everything that her kids do for her! And even though she's unaware that Candace’s efforts were unintentionally overshadowed by what Phineas and Ferb did, Linda does mention more than once that she doesn’t want the boys to overdo it:

“Oh, wow. You boys really outdid yourselves.”

“Oh, those boys are too much!”

“Oh, I hope the boys don’t go overboard with my present.”

And she asks where Candace is because she wants to spend time with her too: “Candace? Candace? Where’d she go?” Then later she asks Candace to sit next to her: “Candace, honey, come join us. The boys have put together a little video.”

Then Phineas and Ferb’s video reveals the song Candace wrote:

Phineas: “But a true testament to what a great Mom you are, is that your daughter would take the time to write this song.”

*The video reveals Candace practicing her “I Love You Mom” song in the music room*

Linda shreds a tear and goes over to hug Candace then says, “What a beautiful song, honey!”

And tells Lawrence on a video call: “The boys threw me the greatest party. And Candace wrote me this really amazing song.” Which brings a smile to Candace’s face!

(-> Here’s Candace’s full song on YouTube <-)

• Speaking of birthdays, in “Candace Loses Her Head” Linda makes Candace a birthday breakfast: “Happy birthday, Candace! I made you a special breakfast!” *holds a plate with a stack of pancakes with whipped cream, syrup, and a birthday candle on top*

Then the boys make them go to Mt. Rushmore and Linda offers to buy Candace anything she wants in the gift shop (at least she’s trying)

Linda: “Okay, Candace. It’s your birthday, you can pick out anything you want. Ooh, what about the Mt. Rushmore bobble head?”

Candace: “Mom, that's lame.”

But during the end credits Jeremy gifts Candace the same Mt. Rushmore bobble heads because he saw her looking at them and she immediately loves it and calls today the best birthday ever

Also before Linda can see the statue of Candace’s face it explodes with lava but Linda mistakenly believes Candace was talking about the president monument and says: “You're right! It's beautiful! *hugs her* Happy birthday, honey. *kisses Candace on the cheek* Now let's go find your father.”

• Another birthday episode is “Phineas’ Birthday Clip-O-Rama!” where Linda is shown frosting the cake for her son’s birthday party: “Where are you, Candace? You promised you’d help frost the cake after you got Phineas’s present.” And later serving it to the party guests: “All right, everybody. *standing next to a cake with a Phineas ornament on top* Who wants cake?”

• In “Out of Toon” Candace tries to call Linda and her voicemail says: “Hi, this is Mom. Leave your psychotic rant about the boys when you hear the beep.”

And before you go Ah ha! Proof Linda’s a bad Mom! listen to the voicemail Candace leaves: “Uhh! Mom, come home quick! There’s a giant mob, I’m a super fiend, I’m roasting them with laser vision! Hey, what do you mean, psychotic rant?”

Candace is talking about how Phineas and Ferb made her the super villain in their cartoon show (ironic) but her wording definitely doesn’t help her case of it not being a “psychotic rant” and at the end of the episode this exchange happens:

Linda: “Well, I’m here. Now, where’s this giant animation studio?”

Candace: “It got up and it danced away.”

Linda: “It what?”

Candace: “It got up and it danced away.”

Linda: “It got up and danced away…?”

Candace: “See? It even sounds crazy when you say it. I'll be in my room.”

• Another time Candace says something unbelievable to her Mom (that I want to bring up because it’s funny) is in “Split Personality” when Candace tells her the boys “made” her:

Busting Candace: “Mom, Phineas and Ferb made me!”

Linda: “Um, I’ve got some stretch marks that would say otherwise.”

Busting Candace: “No, I mean, they split me in half! Well, not like I’m cut in half, but they’ve made another me.”

• In “Tour de Ferb” Linda just got out of the shower and Candace picks up her up against her will and puts her Mom in her bicycle basket while Linda’s only wearing towels and a robe but instead of getting super mad about this (wouldn’t you?) Linda is glad that she picked that day to wear her bike helmet into the shower

Candace: *picks Linda up* “I know where the last obstacle is. Hee-hee-hee-hee.”

Linda: “Whoa! Whoa! *gets placed in the bicycle basket* Candace, I'm not even dressed!

Candace: “Sorry Mom, it’s an emergency!”

Linda: “Luckily, I picked today to wear my bike helmet into the shower.”

• In “Lawn Gnome Beach Party of Terror” Linda gets worried when Candace hasn’t called her like usual and leaves the spa to go see what’s wrong: “Something is very wrong. Not a single call from Candace. *checks her phone* Not even a text message. Oga hose me down. I'm going home.”

Then she calls Candace while driving home:

Linda: “Uh, Candace? Is everything okay?”

Candace: “Ohh, everything is just wonderful...”

Linda: “And...Phineas and Ferb? What are they doing?”

Candace: “Ohh, such wonderful things...”

Linda: “Candace, honey, I’m coming home.”

Candace: *breaks out of trance* “Wait, WHAT?”

Linda: “I’m right around the corner; I’ll be there in two minutes.”

Candace: “Wait! No Mom, you can’t!”

This is the first time we see Candace have fun with her brothers instead of trying to bust them, but her unusual behavior worries Linda enough that she leaves in the middle of her spa day to go home to see what’s going on to cause this change in routine. Sure, she “ruins” Candace’s time with Jeremy but it's mostly out of concern

• Something similar happens in “Tree to get ready” where Phineas and Ferb and Candace and Stacy are having a treehouse robot fight but Linda wonders why Candace hasn’t called:

Linda: “Hmm. That’s funny. I haven’t gotten the usual call from Candace.*gets phone out and calls her* Candace, honey, I’m at the car-wash, and I’m be heading home very soon. Bye bye.”

Candace: “Oh, no!”

Again Linda unintentionally “ruins” the fun but it works out in this episode since they all race back home and the treehouse robots break into normal treehouses before Linda gets there:

Linda: “Looks like you’re having fun.”

Phineas: “Well, Mom, you know what they say-” *Candace and Stacy throw a water balloon at him*

Ferb: “Fun never falls too far from the tree house.” *Also gets hit by a water balloon*

• In “It’s a Mud, Mud, Mud, Mud World” Linda goes to her cooking class and her cooking instructor breaks her phone after Lawrence called her about the boys having a monster truck in the backyard:

Chef Guilbaud: “Ahem. Madam Flynn, I have told you a hundred times, *uses meat tenderizer to break phone* No phone calls in class!”

Funny enough, his phone rings but it’s actually Candace asking to speak with Linda, implying this happened often enough that she has her Mom’s cooking instructor's contact information but Linda still picks up the phone despite being glared at and threatened

Candace: “Mom, I think the boys are building a monster truck.”

Linda: “Um, honey, I gotta go. No- B-Big chef. Big meat tenderizer in front of Mommy! Bye bye.”

• In “Ask a Foolish Question” she makes Phineas and Ferb homemade granola bars:

Linda: “Hey boys, want some fat-free whole-grain granola bars? They're still warm from the oven.”

Phineas: “Whole-grain and fat-free? *They each take a granola bar* You know us so well.”

Linda: “Yes, yes I do.”

Then the boys end up building a super computer just to ask it what’s the nicest thing they can do for Mom that day:

Phineas: “You know, Mom's always doing nice things for us. I think it's time that we did something nice for Mom!”

Then Linda goes out to use a coupon for a free hair styling from a new salon but she comes home with bags under her eyes and ugly yellow hair 

Candace: “Mom! Mom! Mom! Mo…*Stops when she sees Linda’s hair* Uhhhh....”

Linda: “I’m having a bad day.”

Candace: “Uh, never mind. Come on, come on, come on! *Pushes Linda into the backyard with eyes closed* It’s over here! It’s over here! See?”

And when Linda doesn’t see the giant super computer she complains that it’s too much that day: “You know, Candace, most days, this is just a little disturbing. But today, with the free coupon and this whole awful thing with my hair…”

But if you remember Phineas and Ferb had followed the super computer’s instructions and unknowingly fixed her hair:

Phineas: “We did something nice for Mom! We fixed her bad hairdo. Apparently.”

• In “Journey to the Center of Candace” (and in most other episodes) Linda takes an interest in what her kids plan to do that day

Linda: “What a beautiful summer day. Do you boys have anything exciting planned?”

Phineas: “We’re either gonna make this nuclear-powered submarine or this incredible shrinking ray. But for some reason, Ferb and I can't seem to make up our minds.”

Linda: “Well, I’ve made up my mind. *hugs Phineas and then hugs Ferb* You two have the most wonderful imaginations.”

But she’s in denial that her sons aren’t playing pretend so there’s a clear disconnect (too bad she’s unaware she’s a cartoon character)

Candace: “It’s real, you know.”

Linda: “What’s real, dear?”

Candace: “The submarine? The shrinking ray? They’re really gonna build that stuff.”

Phineas: “Well, actually we haven’t decided yet- *Candace uses her spoon to push Phineas away by his nose*

Candace: “Anyway, when I try to bust them, everything will just magically disappear. Always happens. you’ll see. Well, you won’t see. I'll see, trust me.”

Linda: “As usual, the imagination in this room is astounding!”

Hey, at least we know where Phineas gets his “oblivious genes” from

Also it’s hinted that her kids enjoy Linda’s cooking:

Phineas: “Ah tacos. You know who makes the best tacos? Mom!”

• In “Bee Day” Linda mentions how she and Candace played in an inflatable wading pool when she was little after seeing one: “Oh, look at that, an inflatable wading pool. Oh, it’s just like the one I used to play in with Candace when she was little. Remember, hon?”

This gives Phineas and Ferb the idea for what they’ll do that day. Then when Candace takes a teen identity magazine test and it tells her that she’s emo Linda is supportive: 

Linda: “Hi, honey. Love the new look.”

Candace: “You obviously don’t know me. Nobody does. And if somebody did, I’d just deny it.”

Linda: “Sweetie, I went through a similar phase when I was your age. Try writing some poems.”

Candace: “Whatever. I don’t care, No one gets me... Except my hair.”

Linda: “That's my girl.”

Candace is later seen writing poems under the tree, which means she followed Linda's suggestion. Bees deflate the giant inflatable wading pool before Linda comes outside to offer everyone iced tea, but she joins some kids in Candace’s old Ducky Momo one:

Linda: “Hey, kids! *Comes out with a tray with a pitcher and glasses of iced tea* Anyone up for some iced tea?”

Phineas: “Sure! Thanks, Mom!”

Linda: “Oh, look! You kids found Candace’s old wading pool! How sweet!”

Phineas: “We’re gonna have a pool party! Go ahead, wade away!”

Linda: *Dipping feet into the pool with Isabella, Holly, and Gretchen* “Aw, it’s just like old times.”

• In “Rollercoaster: The Musical!” Linda does call her “crazy” but Candace is getting in the way of her going grocery shopping for the who knows what time and she does suggest that Candace yell at the cheese in the grocery store until she feels better (which is funny since Candace is allergic to dairy and shows that Linda does care)

Candace: *Pulls Linda to where the poster used to be* “Here, look, look, look, look, look, see? I told you I'm not crazy! I told you!”

Linda: “And you’re not crazy because...?”

*Candace screams when she opens her eyes to see the poster’s gone*

Linda: “I see your point, Candace. No crazy person would scream at a post like that. I’ll be in the dairy section if you want to come yell at some cheese. *goes off-screen then comes back* Would you like that, honey? Would you like to yell at some cheese?”

Candace: “A little.” *takes Linda’s offered hand*

Linda: “Well, c’mon, then.”

• In “What A Croc!” Linda is shown trusting Candace to be in charge while she’s not home more than she trusts her husband after seeing him watching “Horse in a Bookcase” with the boys

Linda: “Alright, Candace, I’m headed out to the zoo to do my volunteer work.”

Candace: “Which means I’m in charge.”

Linda: “Well, not really, ‘cause Dad’s here. Right, honey?”

*Cuts to Lawrence, Phineas, and Ferb in the living room watching Horse in a Bookcase*

Lawrence: “That’s right, dear.”

Linda: *Looks at Candace* “You’re in charge.”

Candace: *Smiles and opens the door for Linda* “Bye, Mom! Have fun at the zoo!”

• In “Backyard Aquarium” it’s shown that Linda’s favorite author wrote the book series “You & Your High-Strung Teen” which implies that Linda reads a lot of books to try to understand her daughter (with varying degrees of success)

Linda: “I’ve gotta tell you, I read your first book and I love it.”

Bridgette Oshinomi: “Do you have a high-strung teen at home?”

Linda: “Uh, you could say that. *her phone beeps* Oh, this must be her.”

Bridgette Oshinomi: “She sent you a picture? Lemme see.”

Linda: “Well...okay.”

Bridgette Oshinomi: “How bad can it be? After all, I've been through with my own- *sees picture of Candace’s up close face while screaming* Oh. I think that maybe you need the rest of the set. *gives her two books* Uh, and why don't you take a whack at that first book again?”

Funny enough, this Bridgette Oshinomi character is also a news reporter who reported about Phineas and Ferb’s Perry the Inaction Figure in “Toy to the World”

• In “Phineas and Ferb Interrupted” Linda wants to spend the whole day with Candace:

Linda: “Hey hon, I was just reading this article about mothers and daughters, and really listening to your teen. And I realized I’ve hardly seen you all summer, so for the whole day today, it’s you and me. Whatever you want to do, I’m all yours. Anything at all.”

Although they end up sitting there watching the boys do nothing exciting after they got hit by Doof’s Dull-and-Boring Inator:

Candace: “Phineas, come on! What is wrong with you guys?”

Linda: “Candace?”

Candace: “Mom...”

Linda: “How about if I go get some lunch and bring it back for us?”

Candace: “No, no, no, stay, stay! I'm really enjoying this quality time with you.” *kisses her on the cheek*

Linda: “Me too, sweetie!”

• In “Hip Hip Parade” Linda and Candace have a girl’s day out but Linda understandably wants Candace not to try to bust or obsess over her brothers:

Linda: “Candace, you have to promise me that you won’t obsess about Phineas and Ferb.”

Candace: “Yeah, sure Mom, I promise.”

Linda: “Don’t just promise this time. Raise your right hand. Do you, Candace Gertrude Flynn, solemnly swear not to obsess about your brothers, or you’ll suffer the Pharaoh’s Curse?”

Candace: “The Pharaoh’s Curse?”

Linda: “Yes or no?”

Candace: “Okay, yes.”

Linda: “Okay, now we can have fun.”

And Linda says how she enjoys spending time with Candace!

Linda: “See Candace? Isn’t this nice to just get away and enjoy a day together?”

Candace: “You’re right Mom, this is the best. I’m not even going to think about– Mm, you know. I’m not even going to say their names.”

Linda: “That’s the spirit.”

But Candace is Candace and she can’t resist her busting instincts:

Linda: “Candace, I’m having a great time with you today. See how relaxing it is when you’re not obsessing about your brothers?”

Candace: “I can’t take it anymore! Mom, I really tried my best to give you a day, but it’s… the boys. The boys! They’re in the parade! With giant floats! So come on, you gotta bust them.”

• The whole “Ladies and Gentlemen, Meet Max Modem!” episode where Candace learns her Mom was Lindana:

Candace: “Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom! You never told me you were a pop star!”

Linda: “Oh yeah! Well, that was long before you were born. It was fun, but I was happy to give it up to raise a family.”

Then Candace comes with Linda to a revival concert (-> Here’s a video of that on YouTube <-) and she wants her daughter to sing with her onstage:

Linda: “I wouldn’t be here without you, honey. You backed me up all the way. So it’s only right that you should back me up onstage.”

Candace: “Me? Sing?”

Linda: “Just relax. You'll do fine.” *Candace grins and gives her a thumbs up*

Candace then had the time of her life! She and Linda even dance together during “Alien Heart”

(There are more but I’ll end this post here)