#He’s literally “how can I be different today?”

[mechaknight-98]

Kan’t relax (NSFW) FT Sakura Miyawaki

Author's note: I forgot how close I was to done with this fic…so here it is. Milf Mommy Sakura inbound You have been warned.

Heroes are captivating in fiction because they always arrive just in time and defeat the villain with unmatched skill and power. In reality, however, heroes are often ordinary people who rise to the occasion.

While out getting breakfast for Saki, Daigo was confronted by an old acquaintance named Reborn.

“I am so sorry, Daigo, but I need your help,” Reborn said. Before Daigo could respond, Reborn shot him in the face.

Ten years later, Daigo's eyes snapped open as the smoke dissipated around him. Reborn stood over him and reached out a hand to help him up.

“Where am I?” Daigo asked.

“The same cafe, just 10 years later.” Daigo’s heart sank.

“Where's Sakura?” he asked.

Reborn sighed. “She's leading the Miyawaki clan, but I don't think you're ready to see her.”

Daigo's reply was both defiant and despondent. “I don't care. That's my girl. Take me to her.”

Reborn sighed, knowing Daigo wouldn't relent. So they embarked on a journey to Japan, where Sakura was. They arrived at her "day job" as the head of an idol agency, where she and the girls were still making music and moving forward. As they entered the building, Sakura was headed out. She looked as radiant as ever, but a deep sadness and a dour expression were etched on her face.

“Kura, is that you?” Daigo said weakly. Sakura, having long abandoned that name, turned to Daigo, and their eyes met. A wordless exchange happened between them as they ran to each other. Daigo held her tight, and Sakura readily accepted his embrace.

“Please tell me this isn't a dream,” Sakura asked. Daigo shook his head. “No dream. I'm here for you,” he said. Sakura smiled, and the mask of Saki fell away.

“Why do you look so young though? You look like you're 26,” she asked, confused.

“Can we explain over tea?” Daigo asked. Sakura's eyes narrowed as she looked past Daigo and saw Reborn standing behind him. She flew into a rage.

“You!” Sakura growled at the hitman. “I should have known you had something to do with Daigo’s disappearance.” Her anger flared like a blaze, but Daigo, being the more level-headed, intervened.

“Wait, Kura. He brought me here,” he said. Despite the time and distance from Daigo, she still always deferred to him. She got serious.

“Okay, but when you're done with whatever you have to do today, come find me. I need my stud.”

“How would I find you? Everything is different now.”

“Daigo, you are the most resourceful person I know. You can do it. Otherwise, I'll find you and be forced to punish you,” Sakura said. Daigo wanted to submit to her then and there and let her run wild, but he had responsibilities.

“God, I love it when you punish me,” he said.

Sakura smiled. “I always knew you had a bit of a submissive streak. Don't worry, Mommy will take good care of you. All those competing thoughts, Mommy is going to erase them, so all you can think about is Mommy,” Sakura said. Daigo smiled at her before nodding and going to train with Reborn.

While training Daigo asks, “So who killed me in this timeline originally?”

“It was Tobirama Ozunu,” reborn says as he shows Daigo a picture he recognized as Tobi

“Of course,” Daigo replied to his trainer annoyed as he got back to work. The combat training continued til right before sunset. Daigo said goodbye to Reborn before setting out to find Kura. It took an hour but he made it to her penthouse right after sunset.

When he reached her door his cock was already unbearably hard, and several different emotions flowed through him. The weirdest one is this intense longing despite literally having just been in bed with her this morning. He opens the door to see Sakura very nude on her couch. She grins wolfishly at him and without command he strips for her. Her grin widens. Kura marvels at how hard his cock is for her despite her not touching it. She approaches Daigo and caresses his face. She smiles before saying,

“Do you want mommy to ruin you?” Daigo nods. Kura smiles. She starts by guiding him to the bedroom. Her arousal scent is already melting Daigo’s brain. Having aged like a fine wine in all facets Kura’s control over all facets of her body has been refined and nurtured. Her breasts are bigger her body is more plump, and her scent is now deadly.

Sakura pushes Daigo to the bed and she slowly approaches watching him wordlessly writhe and squirm for her. Sakura loved how needy Daigo was for her, but she needed him feral she needed him rough and raw. She inched to his face and kissed him instead of being fast and aggressive like how she would be when they were younger. Kira’s tongue was slow and deliberate. She knew her Stud’s body instinctively and knew how to send him over the edge. Her first trick was forcing him to swallow her saliva to the point he almost drowned in her kiss. When he came up for air she began to kiss around his body. Paying special attention to his ears, especially one of his known weaknesses. After she’s finished she notices a change in Daigo. His eyes have narrowed and her scent has done its job. Daigo gets up and grabs Kura who moans as he roughly throws her on the bed and without warning Daigo plugs her with his cock. Kura moans as she hasn’t been fucked in ten years.

“Ugh, I’ve needed this cock for ten years,” Sakura whined as a wave of familiar feelings overwhelmed her. Mainly her submission to her stud. It caused her to release more of her arousal and her pussy became a sodden mess as Daigo thrust in and out of her. Now no longer bound by her contracts or obligations since she owned all of Le Sserafim she could fully indulge in her needs.

“Fucking breed that milf pussy. I’ve waited so long,” Sakura said with an almost frightening level of conviction that sent Daigo over the edge and he bred her pussy. Sakura moaned as she reached her peak as well, but her mind broke and her body took control. Her instincts forced her to start fucking herself into Daigo’s cock so it couldn’t soften. Daigo’s mind was also broken as Kura’s fertile pussy invited him to fuck her again. He was overwhelmed by her scent and swept away by the need to breed his bitch. He grabbed Kura’s waist and slammed into her. Kura moaned loudly as Daigo began to thrust again. Animalistic groans came from them as their instincts overwhelmed their brains. Daigo never felt this way before but he needed Kura. He needed to have her more than he needed to breathe, and Sakura needed to be Daigo’s. So they gave in. Sakura’s pussy became little more than a sopping fleshlight for Daigo as his cock slipped into and out of her insatiable fuck hole. Sakura moaned like the bitch in heat she was. Their minds became fogged over by their thoughts that they couldn’t feel their orgasms coming and it hit them both like runaway trains. As Daigo filled Kura up again she leaned back into his body inviting her stud to claim her her again. Daigo grabbed her left tit and cupped her ass as he continued thrusting into her churning his cum inside her before biting her collarbone. Kura’s pussy clenched Daigo. Wordless encouragement to continue on.

“Fuck Mommy your pussy is so tight,” Daigo groaned as he continued thrusting into her Sakura moaned, and said

“Oh, I’m mommy? well then breed me and make me one.”

“Huh that breeding kink never went away did it?” Daigo inquired

“No, it didn’t now slap my ass say how good mommy’s pussy is, and creampie me.” She shot back. Daigo smiled at how much he loved this woman no matter what form she took or how old she was. He slapped her ass and marveled at how it rippled for him then grabbed both of her tits.

“Mommy’s pussy is so filthy. All mommy wants to do is be my breeding bitch doesn’t she. This is all mommy is good for huh? Dumping my children into her womb. Is that what mommy wants?” Daigo says and Sakura is overwhelmed by her lust cums again squirting all over Daigo’s cock, and trying to milk it. She succeeded and Daigo fills her again with cum, but their still horny for each other so they keep fucking until Sakura’s stomach growls.

Daigo laughs and looks at the clock. “Fuck it’s midnight already?” He says dazed by the fact they have been going at it for four hours.

Sakura smiles and says give me a minute let me order some food for us. While she’s on the call Daigo keeps fucking her. When she’s finished she glares at Daigo as he still thrust into her and then cums inside her. This causes the inner breeding cum slut that Sakura has been keeping at bay to fully cum out.

“Oh god yes. Fill me up again. I need your cum. Fuck keep me full.” Sakura said. Her words make Daigo even harder, 25 minutes later Sakura cums again, but before Daigo can reach his peak Sakura’s door rings and he has to pull out.

“I didn’t know you were holding out on me stud she said opening the door naked much to the surprise of the delivery woman who she winked at before going back to Daigo and starting their late-night meal. Daigo smiled and said

“Well it seems like you needed it, and I’d do anything for my breeding bitch.”

[theodorenmyth]

M! Reader who wears and needs glasses suddenly doesn’t have them on and Mattheo walks in shocked and hypnotized by his beauty because mattheo only seen them wear glasses and not take them off💕 like literally Mattheo just lays his head on reader’s lap and stares into their eyes enchanted by how they look without them. Or course he still loves reader with or without them but the way they look just makes him love them more.

-💕

Enchanted Vision

Pairings : Mattheo Riddle x M! Reader

Summary : Mattheo has always known you with your glasses on, a defining part of your appearance that he loves. However, one day, he walks in to find you without them and is captivated by your natural beauty in a way he never anticipated. This unexpected moment leads to a tender interaction, deepening his love for you even more.

A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

Warnings) : Nothing!

Word count : 1.1k+

In the quiet moments between classes, you find yourself without your glasses, a rare occurrence that leads to an unexpected reaction from Mattheo Riddle. He has always loved you, glasses and all, but seeing you without them for the first time leaves him utterly mesmerized. This new perspective of your beauty deepens his affection in ways neither of you expected.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You sat in the common room, feeling the familiar weight of your glasses missing from the bridge of your nose. It was a rare, vulnerable moment; you'd misplaced them somewhere in your dormitory, and now you squinted slightly at the book in your lap, trying to decipher the blurry text. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm, golden glow around the room, making everything seem a little dreamier.

"Hey, have you seen my—" Mattheo's voice cut through your thoughts as he entered the room, his eyes immediately finding yours. He froze mid-step, his usual composed demeanor slipping as his gaze fixed on your face, unencumbered by your glasses.

You looked up, surprised at his sudden silence. "What is it, Mattheo?"

He blinked, as if shaking himself from a trance. "You... you don't have your glasses on."

A faint smile tugged at your lips. "Yeah, I lost them somewhere. Why, do I look that strange without them?"

"Strange?" he repeated, almost incredulously. He took a few steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You look... different. Beautiful. Not that you weren't before," he added quickly, "but it's just... wow."

Heat crept up your cheeks at his earnest compliment. Mattheo was always straightforward, but this level of intensity in his gaze was new. He approached slowly, as if not to startle you, and then, without a word, he sat down beside you on the couch.

For a moment, he simply stared, his dark eyes tracing the contours of your face, taking in every detail. You felt a flutter of nerves under his scrutiny, but there was a softness in his expression that put you at ease. He reached out, gently cupping your cheek with his hand, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

"You have no idea how stunning you are, do you?" he murmured.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Mattheo, you're making me blush."

"Good," he said, a playful smile curling his lips. "I like seeing you blush." He shifted closer, his hand trailing down to rest on your neck. "Can I...?" He gestured towards your lap, his eyes questioning.

"Sure," you replied, curious as to what he had in mind.

With a contented sigh, Mattheo laid his head in your lap, looking up at you with a mixture of adoration and awe. You ran your fingers through his dark curls, feeling the tension in his body melt away at your touch. He looked utterly relaxed, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed up at you.

"I could stay like this forever," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere. "Just looking at you."

You chuckled, the sound light and musical in the quiet room. "You're being awfully poetic today."

"Can you blame me?" he replied, his tone teasing yet earnest. "You're a vision."

You continued to stroke his hair, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, intimate moment. It was rare to see Mattheo so unguarded, so openly vulnerable, and it made your heart swell with affection for him.

"How is it that we've been together all this time, and I've never seen you without your glasses?" he wondered aloud, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your knee.

"I guess I've always needed them," you said with a shrug. "I feel a bit lost without them, honestly."

"Well, I think you look incredible with or without them," he said, his eyes shining with sincerity. "But seeing you like this... it's like I'm seeing a new side of you. And I love it."

You smiled down at him, touched by his words. "I love you too, Mattheo. More than you know."

He reached up, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. "Stay with me like this for a while?"

"As long as you want," you promised.

Time seemed to stretch on as you sat there together, wrapped in each other's presence. Mattheo's breathing became slow and steady, his eyes closing as if he were drifting off to sleep. You felt a profound sense of peace wash over you, a feeling that everything was exactly as it should be.

Eventually, Mattheo opened his eyes again, a lazy smile on his lips. "You know, I think I'm going to have to misplace your glasses more often."

You laughed softly, the sound vibrating through him. "Is that so?"

"Absolutely," he said, his voice full of warmth and affection. "I like seeing you like this. It's... enchanting."

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Then maybe I will," you whispered against his skin.

Mattheo sighed contentedly, closing his eyes once more. "Good. Because I never want to stop looking at you."

And in that moment, with the fire crackling softly beside you and Mattheo's head resting in your lap, you felt an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. Glasses or no glasses, this was where you belonged—right here, with him.

Satisfied, he closed his eyes again, his head resting comfortably on your lap. You continued to stroke his hair, your fingers gentle and soothing. The room around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

Time passed slowly, each moment filled with a deep, comforting silence. You could feel the steady rise and fall of Mattheo's breath, his presence grounding you. He had always been a source of strength for you, and now, seeing how much he cherished even the smallest details about you, you felt that bond deepen.

Eventually, he stirred, his eyes opening to meet yours once more. "We should probably get some sleep," he said reluctantly.

"Yeah," you agreed, though you were reluctant to break the spell of the moment.

He stood up, helping you to your feet. His hand lingered in yours, a silent reassurance. As you made your way to your respective dormitories, you couldn't help but glance back at him, your heart full.

"Goodnight, Mattheo," you said softly.

"Goodnight, Y/N. Sweet dreams."

As you lay in bed that night, your glasses safely on your nightstand, you felt a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the cozy blankets. Mattheo loved you for who you were, with or without the frames that had been a part of you for so long. And that knowledge, that feeling of being truly seen, was the most enchanting thing of all

[dix0nspretty]

Knives, Bikes, and Stitches, Oh My!

Summary: Daryl is working on his motorcycle and you watch. Too bad you can't keep your focus.

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader, 1.3k words

Era: Prison (again) because he's just so yummy...

TW: Mention of blood and stitches. Maybe chronic horniness?

Y'all loved my first story and I hope this one whets your appetites just as well! I have no idea how motorcycles or vehicles of literally any kind work, so please feel free to educate me in the comments.

You put the fear of God in Daryl every time he sees you with a knife.

It’s not that you can’t use one. On the contrary, you’re a force to be reckoned with when you’re fighting. Sometimes all that can be seen of you in a fight is the shine of blood-tinged metal as you slash and stab at whatever is attacking with your twin blades. No, your knives are comfortable and at home in your grip. Maybe too comfortable.

“How many times I got to tell ya to stop eatin’ off yer damn knife?” Daryl’s rough accent sounds out in the empty courtyard. His head is bowed low as he works on his bike, not looking up as he speaks.

I’m perched on the tabletop of one of the prison’s picnic tables eating a can of peaches. Daryl, for some reason unknown to me, had elected to start taking his bike apart and putting it back together and I followed along to watch the process. I don’t know shit about vehicles, much less motorcycles, but I like spending time with the grumpy man.

“It’s fine, I’m not gonna cut myself.” I tell him as I tilt my head down to drag a slice of peach off the blade. Daryl’s eyes don’t move from the work in front of him, but I can feel him watching me. I pull the chunk into my mouth and lick the blade clean of the sticky juice.

“Told ya to cut it out.” I’m eating the canned fruit haphazardly, not paying any attention to how close I am to the edge. Daryl shakes his head. He knows it’s a matter of time before I cut my lip or tongue.

At his repeated command, I roll my eyes but pull away from the edge of my knife. I set the can of peaches down and watch him. His brown hair is getting longer now and it’s sliding down into his eyes, shielding most of his face from my watchful gaze.

“What are you doing, anyways?” I ask. I scoot myself closer to the edge of the table and peer down over his shoulder. He has one of his tools in his hand and some pieces of metal I can’t identify. It is roughly the size of my fist and cylindrical. Whatever it is, it looks important.

Daryl glances over his shoulder, feeling my curious eyes looking down. He huffs and continues his task. “Workin’.”

“No shit. Working on what?” I’m playing with my knife in my fingers, absentmindedly twisting and flipping it. Daryl looks up at me through his hair, squinting one eye against the sunlight. My breath catches in my throat, and I try to play it cool.

“Do ya really want to know or are ya jus’ bored?” He asks in his gruff voice. I don’t answer for a second. He looks so pretty. Get a grip, Y/N, I think to myself.

“Really want to know. Come on, I don’t know anything about bikes. Teach me something.” Daryl squints at me for several seconds longer and I’m convinced he’s going to send me inside to bother someone else, but he slowly starts talking.

“’M cleanin’ the carburetor.” He tilts his hand up to show me the same piece I was looking at earlier. “It’s startin’ to get clogged.”

“Oooookay. What’s that do?”

“It keeps the engine runnin’ smooth, basically. Don’t keep it clear and that can fuck up the bike, make it stall or overheat. Gotta take it apart and clean it every few months.”

Daryl lets me watch over his shoulder as he points out different parts of the carburetor and how to clean them. After a few minutes, his gruff voice starts to fade out and my mind begins to wander.

He just looks so good. His hands are greasy and dirty from all of his work today and his biceps are sweaty from the Georgia heat. He’s wearing one of his simple black shirts that already fit him so well and the sweat is only making him look more delicious. I’m watching his hands work over the small brass jets when I feel burning heat in my palm and look down.

I’d been messing with my knife the entire time and cut myself. I instinctively let go of the blade and it hits the concrete with a harsh clang. Daryl’s head lifts at the noise and he spins around right as I rush to tuck both hands behind my back. I look like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar and I’m trying to hide the chocolatey evidence. Except this time, it’s blood.

Daryl’s eyes run over me for a second, then flick down to my knife as it sits on the dirty floor. He slowly bends down and picks it up. “Y/N.” He starts, a low warning in his tone.

“It’s fine! I’m fine, I just dropped it.” My voice rambles out. There’s a high, nervous note to it and I’m hoping to God he doesn’t notice.

He raises an eyebrow. “If yer fine, why’s the knife got fresh blood on it?” Fuck.

“Uhhhhh.” I look around the courtyard, trying to find an excuse. I, naturally, see nothing. “Magic?”

Daryl huffs and crosses his arms. “Let me see your hands.”

I wince. I don’t want to get in trouble, but I can feel the blood dripping off my hand, and it stings. The longer I hold off showing him the angrier he’ll get.

“Y/N. Hand, now.” Daryl’s voice leaves no room for arguments.

“Jus’, don’t be mad?” I ask. He says nothing and I sigh, then slowly move my hands back in front of me. The blood is quickly evident on my skin.

“God damn it, girl. Why can’t ya ever listen to me?” Despite his rough tone, his hands are gentle as he takes my wrist and tilts my hand, inspecting the damage. I risk a glance at my hand. There’s a slash across my entire palm and more blood than there should be. It’s going to need stitches.

“Ya need stitches.” Told you.

 Daryl looks up from my hand but doesn’t let go of my wrist. His eyes lock with mine and he gives me a warm look. There’s exasperation and concern and I don’t know what to do with it. He takes a surprisingly clean rag from his pocket and ties it around my bleeding palm, firmly but not enough to hurt.

I can’t help but be surprised by just how gentle he’s being with me. I was expecting a pop in the side of the head and a banishment to Hershel’s cell. I look up at him through my lashes, waiting for my verbal lashing. After almost a minute, I realize there is none.

“Does this mean I gotta go in now?” I try to keep the potential disappointment from my voice and don’t entirely succeed.

“Yeah, yer going to go get those stitches. Ya weren’t listenin’ anyways.” He grumbles at me. “The hell were you doin’?”

I look away from him. I do not want to explain that I was too busy being horny over him to notice that I gouged my palm open. I risk a glance at him and I’m caught by those ocean-blue eyes.

“I was watching your hands…”

Daryl pauses, then snorts. “Maybe instead of watchin’ my hands ya should’ve been watching yours. Go get your damn stitches and I’ll show ya somethin’ else.”

[wlwprker]

coffee + post it notes- s.r. x barista! reader

a/n: I am so bad with titles omg sorry! I literally had a dream about this so I'm turning it into a little blurb! I have never written for Spencer before so i hope this is okay haha :) this was longer than i expected omg lol

warnings: minimal proofreading, use of bold and italics, I apologize for grammar or spelling mistakes

wc: 1,126

Spencer was not having a great morning, he was not anticipating the rain to be as heavy as it was and just as luck would have it, his umbrella got stuck and was not helping to protect him from the downpour. Spencer sighed in annoyance as he bolted and nearly lost balance as he got on the train, the ride was not bad but there was one thing he needed more than anything:

coffee.

Spencer is not a coffee drinker at all, he drowns his coffee in lots of sugar that Derek teases him for which is ridiculous, he needs the sugar! He was early enough, he usually is one of the first people to enter the building, but he didn't want to wait for coffee, he needed the caffeine as soon as possible. Spencer stops in his tracks when he sees a quiet coffee shop that is very close to work, and he has no idea how he has never seen it before. Spencer pushes open the door to The Thinking Cup Cafe and the smell of coffee and pastries hits him all at once but there's a third smell that hits him that most people don't pick up on, but Spencer picks up on it immediately.

The smell of books.

Spencer sighed happily, his bad morning long forgotten as he took in the shelves of books that lined the walls and the quiet bustle of the morning rush of people getting their caffeine to start their day. Spencer walked up to the counter to place an order, but he almost tripped over himself when he made eye contact with you. You were really pretty, it made him extremely nervous.

"Hi! What can I get for you today?", you ask with a smile on your face and that smile warmed him instantly and he hasn't even had a sip of coffee yet.

"Oh- I'd just like a medium black coffee with lots of sugar, please", Spencer hated the way he nearly forgot how to speak because of you. You were just a barista at a coffee shop, and he could barely get a full sentence out without stuttering.

"What's your name?"

"Spencer"

You smiled softly as you made his order, and your friend eyed you curiously as she watched you write out a little note on a post it note and folded it and tucked it behind the order receipt that you attached to the cup. Spencer thanked you for the coffee and headed to the office, he sat down at his desk and took a sip of his drink, but he caught sight of the post it and his eyebrows furrowed as he took the note and opened it and read:

I hope you have a good day :)

Spencer smiled and folded the note and tucked it away from prying eyes, he wanted to keep this a secret even if it meant nothing.

You looked forward to seeing Spencer even if he never came regularly which made you develop a tiny crush on him, you missed him when he didn't come in, you swore to never get hung up on a guy like this, but he felt...different.

Two weeks went by, and he had finally returned to your coffee shop and your coworkers took note of how you visibly glowed and they thought it was hilarious.

"You are a lost cause", your friend had whispered to you between handling customers, and you ignored her. Spencer scanned the shelves of the books, picked up two books and walked to the counter.

"Hi! welcome back! What can I get for you?", you felt like a little girl with a crush, but you couldn't help yourself, he just radiated kindness and he piqued your interest probably because you barely knew anything about him.

"My usual, and these two books, please", Spencer said shyly, and you found him incredibly adorable. You got his coffee for him and wrote out another note and stuck it one of the books, you decided to make it your thing with Spencer even if it never went anywhere, you enjoyed your little fantasy.

Spencer got back to his desk and opened one of the books and saw another note which made him feel warm inside, he liked that it was your own way of communicating with him, he felt special.

You are starting to become one of my favorite customers but don't tell anyone!

The smile on Spencer's face was huge and being a profiler surrounded by profilers, they were curious. JJ was the first one to make the step to approach Spencer because he rarely smiles like...that. She was intrigued.

"What is making you smile so much?" JJ asked and Spencer frantically packed his things away and stuttered out an excuse that was not believable at all.

"I'm betting it's a girl" Derek said as he watched Spencer at his desk for the fourth week in a row smiling brightly with a faint blush painting his cheeks. Emily nodded in agreement as she pondered what to do next. Penelope left her office to see what the huddled group was discussing, and her face lit up at the mere thought that Spencer had found someone.

"When can we meet her?"

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair as he busied himself with paperwork, but he knew he couldn't not answer her because she is persistent especially when it comes to her friends love life.

"It's nothing like that, I don't even know her name! She's just nice and very pretty", Spencer mumbled as he avoided Penelope's eyes. Spencer adored Penelope so he couldn't not spill the details to her.

Despite his best efforts, he walked into the coffee shop with Penelope, Emily, JJ, and Derek. He found himself looking at you while you were talking to a coworker, he just wanted to know you more than just the barista who gave him his coffee and slipped in notes.

"Spencer, hi!", you said as you smiled at him, and Spencer waved back with a goofy smile on his face. Spencer felt his face heat up at all the words of his friends praising you, he wanted to hide.

Spencer left his friends and walked up to you and you both fell into easy conversation as if you were friends for years and soon enough you both had to go back to your jobs, but you didn't want this connection with Spencer you had to end.

As if he read your mind, he scratched the back of his neck before speaking. "I don't want this to be over"

"It doesn't have to be, do you want my number?"

Spencer was grinning ear to ear as he pondered what the future held for the two of you.

[jasntodds]

Penance [1]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 7,340

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, mentions of death, mentions of injuries, a little blood, a little bit of violence

Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: It's finally the last book!! I'm honestly so excited lol You don't have to read the previous books to read this one but if you want context, feel free to ask!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Everything is different. Somehow, everything has changed so much over the last month and a half everything that happened before almost feels like some sort of sick fever dream. It's all very real and all of it happened but everything is different today. At least, to Jason it feels different.

Gotham itself is pretty much the same. Bruce has been back and doing his whole Batman thing. The only difference is he doesn't have a Robin now but his methods remain the same, it's the same routine for him, same big bads. It's the same for him. The businesses that were boarded up during Crane's reign are up and running, everything looking to be the same just as it was before. The air around the city is still smoggy and the rain is still cold and wet. The streets sound the same just as they always did and the gargoyle keeps Jason company just as it did before. So much is the same but he feels like everything is different.

Instead of him and Bruce butting heads over him being Robin, they're butting heads over his methods. Bruce has no issue with Red Hood but he does have a problem with the killing part of it. And Jason won't budge. He swears he's not bitter about what happened but he is firm in his belief that change needs to happen. It stops with him and Bruce can either fight him or get on board. They are trying to come to some sort of agreement which is significantly better than how it would have went before. Bruce keeps the Robin suit in the case. He won't tell Jason why.

Their relationship is different now. Jason thinks it might be for the better.

He hopes it's for the better.

His living situation is different than it was before. He has his own place, the main safe house he used while Crane ran the city. It's not anything too special yet and Jason doesn't have too many things that are his but it's coming along. And that is his. It almost feels like it did when he was on the streets but this time, it is his choice. It is his choice to be alone here. And he owns it. No one can come and kick him out, no one can come and arrest him for trespassing and breaking and entering, it is his. It might feel lonely sometimes after living with Bruce and the Titans for so long but it is his and it brings him some sort of pride in a way.

He works with Barbara mostly now. Whenever something a bit more dicey pops up or Bruce is busy, she calls Jason. It's his literal job now and he would be lying if he said he didn't like it. Him and Babs get along better now. Actually, him and the Titans get along better now. There's still plenty of work to be done but his relationship with them has been on the mend, something he is eternally grateful for. He still owes them.

Then there's you.

Things are different with you.

"I will be back as soon as the threat is taken care of." Bruce states as he grabs a few things from the Batcave. "Are you sure you can handle this?" Bruce asks, not because of his lack of confidence in Jason's abilities but rather his general mental health.

"I got it, man." Jason brushes him off. "Nothing I haven't done before. You've gone with the Justice League plenty of times." Jason holds back his snippy attitude, trying his best to level with Bruce and not let his anger get the best of him.

"Before you were..." Bruce trails off in a way that makes Jason shift his weight off his bad leg. "Robin." He nods once, sternly and hard. "That was before."

"I'm fine." Jason nearly whines, desperate to not get into that. They don't talk about it. "I got it." He gestures his arms out casually.

"Okay." Bruce states with a sigh. "Do not blow anything or anyone up again." Bruce warns.

The touch of a smirk pulls at his lips. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

There may have been an explosion near Harbor last week with some gun runners inside. Jason may or may not have been in the area patrolling. And that group may or may not have been the group Jason had been tracking over the last few days. Jason does think the explosion really helped though. They got all the guns and all the people involved in one sweep. Seemed efficient.

"I know it was you." Bruce states easily.

"Nope." Jason shakes his head but the grin is tugging at his lips, knowing damn well he's guilty.

Bruce lets out a sigh, not bothering to argue with him over it. "Just...keep it down, Jason." Bruce states and he's gone out of town a hundred times but something about this being the first time since Jason died and has been brought back almost makes him nervous.

Jason can handle himself. He's been doing it. This is only his second time in the Batcave over the last month and a half and only his third time back at the manor. He's doing well on his own, all things considered, but he is Bruce's son and Bruce does worry even if he doesn't show it.

"It'll be fine, just go. I got it all handled. Pick up your job you're working, almost got the one from Babs and..." Jason pauses feeling his mouth run dry. "Molly said y/n's got a few she's working."

Bruce eyes him, knowing very little but knowing enough about the situation between the two of you. "You should call her." Bruce tries to say it casually.

"No." Jason states simply. "And you're not allowed to give me advice here. The one that got away? Seriously, man?" Jason lets out a scoff.

Of all people, Jason does not want relationship advice from Bruce. Bruce had a solid chance with Selina and apparently, he's still hung up on her and is doing nothing about it. He could have had something great with Talia, too but that didn't end well. Jason is not looking to take advice from Bruce and he's thinking he shouldn't be taking much relationship advice from anyone he knows. No one seems to be getting that department together anytime soon. The way he sees it, this is fine.

It's fine.

"How did Tim know that?" Bruce questions Jason plainly.

"He stalks us." Jason nearly chortles.

"Well, that is all my advice. Call her, Jason." Bruce nods once at him.

"I'm good." Jason shakes his head. "Now go before Clark shows up and drags you back with him."

Bruce lets out a sigh, making his way through the living room. Bruce offered to let him stay at the manor which Jason declined. He's on his own. He can't come back here. If he's even being honest, he's only thinking Bruce called him to "look out over his jurisdictions" just to check up on him, make sure he feels useful as if Jason doesn't have his own work he's doing. Somewhere in his chest he wants to be mad and fight back over it, swear it's because Bruce doesn't think he can handle it so he's setting him up to prove a point to get him back. But Jason bites it all back, deciding to tell his mind to shut up for fucking once and let this just play out.

He sees Leslie once a week and that helps. He thinks he'll just tell her about it.

Jason finds himself back at the place he's calling home, enabling the alarms once he's safe inside. It's messy and somewhere in the back of his head, he can hear the echo of your voice telling him he should clean because he's not busy now. And he looks at the stuff on the floor, almost willing himself to listen, and then he heads upstairs anyway.

If Jason Todd is good at anything, it's being alone. He's been alone almost his whole life. Even when his dad was around, he was drunk or mean...so he was alone. Even when his mom was alive, she was usually high. She wasn't really with him very much. He adapted to what it's like to be alone. To fend for himself always and somewhere deep in his broken heart, he wishes it weren't this way but he's good at it. He has always pushed until he was alone. He is a natural disaster ripping through the hearts of people who love him so maybe being alone has always been better for him. At least the only thing left to destroy is himself.

Even if being lonely is some of the worst kind of hurt. But this is his penance.

One day, he swears, it won't be like this. That's the point of talking to Leslie and getting along with Bruce and being himself today. One day it won't be like this. A day will come when he won't have to punish himself for all the hurt he's caused. He won't have to punish himself for all the scars he bears at the hands of others and himself. One day he won't have to punish himself for the person he could have been. It just has to be like this today. So, Jason goes up to his room where he keeps his training equipment and monitors and he starts to work on the cipher until it's time for patrol.

The city is warm tonight. Cars are crowding the streets while people walk home from their Saturday night out and a smile pulls at your lips from under your mask as you watch the people below you. Patrol has just started and you're mostly waiting and listening, knowing something is going to happen because it always does on Saturday nights. But, you'd be lying if you said you don't like the view from where you are. Something about Gotham always being pretty at night.

The smog isn't visible, it doesn't look dreary as it usually does during the day. It's just street lights and busy people walking about. A part of you can't believe just a few months ago you were terrified of heights and now you actually enjoy the view.

Things have changed a lot since then.

You live with Molly now, probably how it always should have been. You share a small apartment, this one has better locks on the doors and windows. And every night you teach Molly some self-defense, just in case. If you've learned one thing, it's that you cannot save everyone but you can help them. At least if Molly is somewhat prepared, she has a chance though you could tell by how she moved and certain things she already knew that Jason had taught her a few things before San Francisco. Living with her is nice though. She understands you and there is no judgment. You aren't alone.

Gar and Tim talk to you every single day, updating you with whatever is going on. At first, it was fun stuff on the road trip like sightseeing and museums and bowling. Now, it's the hell Metropolis is currently under. You've never been so happy you stayed behind. You do not want to fight a demon. You'll never admit it, but you wouldn't stand a single chance against Rachel let alone Mother Mayhem and Brother Blood. Though, you are disappointed you missed the whole zombie situation. You're just glad the boys keep you up to date with everything and you talk to Dick and Kory all the time, too. That doesn't feel too different. It feels almost like it did when you first came back to Gotham and you like it this way.

And then there's Jason.

Things are different with Jason.

"Robbery in progress in the East End, convenience store." Molly says through the comms.

"Got it, send the address." You grin wildly behind your mask before you use your grappling hook to lower yourself down the backside of the building.

Molly helping out has been new. You aren't too happy about that part but...Molly was insistent and to tell her no would make you a hypocrite. Molly stays back and is youe eyes in the skies kind of deal which has been very helpful when it comes to patrol. At least that's nice.

You take the bike and head to the address Molly sent you. Patrolling is different now, too. You've always patrolled with Bruce or Jason or the Titans. Even when Jason died, you weren't patrolling. You had set targets and that's who you went out to grab. This is patrol. This is different. You're alone with Molly in your ear. You thought maybe you wouldn't like it, Iike maybe you'd actually be really bad at it being alone. But, if you were being honest, you're really enjoying it this way. You're good at it. And it's fun and you don't have to worry about anyone else. It's just you. Your life. That's it. And you like the thrill a little bit.

Jason shoves the last of four men to the ground, his hands zip-tied behind his back and the man lets out a groan. He glares up at Jason with blood streaming down his nose, his friends all a bit battered but have learned to keep quiet. This one is annoying.

"You broke my fucking nose!" He screams up at Jason.

Jason never quite understood why people committing crimes who get caught, like in this instance for example, are confused by their injuries. They showed up to rob a local small business and expected to get away with it. They're here to possibly ruin something that someone has earned and worked very hard for just because they can. A broken nose seems to be a pretty good deal.

He's not even a stranger to robbery but these guys walked in there armed and prepared to shoot anyone who wanted to get in the way. Jason was also a teenager and desperate. These four men don't seem to be in the same boat and the way Jason sees it, there was no reason to hold a gun to someone's face for a hundred dollars in a cash register. These are not master criminals.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood or your nose would be the last of your worries." Jason says casually through the modulator.

"Good mood?!" The man yells back as if he's the real victim in this situation.

"Yeah, good mood." Jason echoes back about to make another smart comment until he hears the sound of a motorcycle pulling up.

Jason turns around just in time to see it stop and he'd recognize the bike anywhere because it's the same one as his. He'd recognize the blue and black suit anywhere because it's yours.

You pop the helmet off and Jason swears his very heart just burst into flames into his chest and it might just burn through his ribcage. The corner of his lips starts to tug into a shielded smile at the sight of you and his only thought is that he misses you. He asks about you to your friends, not too often but...often enough for them to know. All of them say the same things, you're doing okay but they're worried. You're working with Barbara, too, running different jobs for the PD and you check in on Tim's parents every single day.

Molly always says the least about you.

Every single bone in his body feels hollowed seeing you. But when you lock eyes with him and you don't look happy, the guilt comes back baring its teeth and digging them right into his jugular.

It has been a month and a half and he is trying his best. It hasn't been easy and some days he doesn't try but generally, he's trying. It's hard whenever every breath he takes is haunted by the day he took his last. It's hard trying to figure out his footing. Jason Todd is Red Hood. He knows that. He is Red Hood. Red Hood protects innocent people and uses any means necessary to make sure they stay safe. But he is not a hero. He is doing what must be done and that is all. Jason Todd is Red Hood but outside of that, he doesn't know yet. Instead, he wraps himself in a straightjacket of guilt and remorse and agony and hopes that'll be enough to repay his debts to misery and happiness.

You eye him and it's like you're being exposed to the entire city in an instant. It's as if your suit and mask have been ripped from your body and every scar and insecurity and vulnerability is being displayed in some sort of sick museum as you see him. You have separate sections of the city. You, him, and Bruce. This is Bruce's section but he's out of town with the Justice League. It would have been Jason's to pick up but you didn't even question it when Molly mentioned it.

You wish you would have questioned it.

It is almost a relief he wears a full-face helmet because you aren't entirely sure what you would do if you saw his face, saw his expression. Would he be happy to see you? Disappointed? Mad? Would there be anything left at all or would he just look at you like he would any other vigilante showing up a little too late to help? You aren't sure which of those would be easier to swallow.

Something builds in the space between you, something hard and damaged, sucking the air out from between you. It snarls back at you both almost daring you to go ahead and try to move. Try to make the space less and see just how badly the teeth of grief will hurt this time. Go ahead and tempt death for old time's sake and guilt. Go ahead and try to mend this and pretend it's some sort of coincidence, as if fate has any hand in this. It bites and gnaws at you both as water brims in your eyes, every emotion bubbling over to the surface and grief screams out to you both.

Go ahead and try again, see just how badly this will all end again. It will only end in bloody hands and shredded agony. Guilt laughs in your faces, a devious crackle as if you are not worth the other. The both of you do not deserve forgiveness for the torture you've caused the other. Walk away. You both can hear it over and over again, guilt and grief and resentment and loneliness, walk away.

So, you do.

You pop the helmet back on your head just as Jason turns back to the robbers.

"Where are you going?" Molly asks through the comms as she watches the tracker on her screen start moving.

"You can see him here." You seethe. "I know you can see him, too."

Molly has all of your locations. She shares them with Bruce. It was part of an agreement with her doing this eyes in the skies thing and you being able to keep patrolling. It's how you all keep your sections of the city. Molly knows Jason is here.

"He wasn't when I sent you, I swear." Molly defends softly. It's not a lie, she just didn't mention when Jason happened to be moving towards the robbery. "He showed up but you were already on your way—"

"So you didn't tell me?!" You yell. "Seriously?"

Somewhere in the last month and a half, grief has metastasized into something resembling resentment. It's not him. You know that. But, seeing him just now brings back too many feelings you've yet to deal with properly, you're trying but you haven't gotten that far yet.

Grief bubbles back and transforms into something like resentment because you should be together. You should fucking happy and you aren't. You are, generally, but there is this void echoing in your chest. A burning pain right on your heart where his name was stitched. It sucks to be blind-sided into seeing him even if the resentment is towards yourself. You just would have liked some fucking warning about it.

You need to be prepared if you're going to see him and you aren't entirely sure you're ready. There's still a lot of shame even if missing him makes you feel like Atlas. Half the damn time it takes everything in you not to call him. Something will happen and he is still the first person you want to tell. But, you're not talking. Instead, you get updates about him through Molly and Gar and Tim. All of them have said he seems okay while sounding worried about him. It's hard not to worry about him. He's Jason. You think that's your only relief, knowing he's at least doing okay.

You just wish you had it in yourself to check in but he said space and you said space. You agreed and guilt and shame suck the very air out of your lungs to the point where you think this is your way of punishing yourself for everything you've done to him. Forcing yourself to not contact him first and check-in. You're punishing yourself but keeping to what you know and staying away from him. Maybe it was him who was always better off.

Molly sighs. "You have to talk to him eventually." Molly rolls her eyes on the other end and decides to drop it. She can hear the engine of the bike roaring louder than usual. This conversation is not one to have at the moment. "Mugging two blocks from you, take a right."

She is thankful the two of you have not put her in the middle. The most that happens is you both asking about each other. Other than that, you don't ask. You don't mention each other. It's as if you only know of each other through your mutual friends. Molly thinks that might actually be worse sometimes.

Jason gets back to his safe house and strips from the Red Hood gear. He heads right for the shower. Seeing you tonight, it feels like a lot. He never tried to kill you but somehow, you're the person he betrayed the most and dealing with that has been a lot harder than most of the rest of it. Your dedication and loyalty to him he thinks has made it so hard. To have someone so loyal and love him the way you did, sends his head fuzzy with regret knowing the pain he caused you.

At first, Jason thought it'd be a week or two. You'd both cave and talk again and then one thing would lead to another. Maybe it wouldn't be the healthiest way to deal with your shit, but you'd be together and you'd figure it out. But then a week or two turned into three and then four and then six. The more time that passes, the harder it gets to pick up the phone. Maybe that's why he asks Gar and Tim and Molly about you. They all say you're good but they're worried about you. They're always worried about you. But at least you've been good and Jason is grateful for that. He just wishes he had it in himself to suck it up and just call you. But, he doesn't so he showers away the thoughts of you and drowns himself in his guilt and regret.

By the time he's out of the shower, his phone is ringing and he's drying his hair with a towel, the white streak staring back at him in the mirror and he's still mad Dick didn't get the same thing he did.

"Yeah?" Jason answers the phone.

"I need your help." Dick states on the other end.

Jason pulls the phone from his head, looking at the caller ID before he puts the phone back to his ear. "With?"

"Training Tim." Dick states.

Jason almost laughs at the very statement. It's not that Dick is asking for help in the training department, he has before. That's fine. It's that Tim is supposed to be Robin out there and Jason knows they are actively fighting demons and zombies. Tim should absolutely be getting trained in between all of that.

"You haven't trained him yet?" Jason scoffs in surprise before he walks out of the en suite and into his bedroom.

"We've been busy." Dick scoffs back knowing damn well Jason knows what's been happening. Dick has mentioned it and Gar gives Dick updates about Jason meaning Gar talks to him plenty. "Between everything that's been going on since we got to Metropolis, we haven't had time."

Jason chuckles softly on the other end. "Yeah, uh, Gar was telling about me about the zombie shit. Fucking Deathstroke? Glad I wasn't there." Jason laughs softly and he can't see it but there might even be a faint smile on Dick's lips. He sounds good.

"Yeah," Dick huffs, running a hand through his hair. "You gonna be able to help?" Dick asks.

"Yeah, I owe you anyway." Jason agrees. "Not gonna go easy on him though. I'm gonna make sure he's ready when he comes back."

It doesn't take Jason long to have his decision. There's something...weird with someone replacing him in a way, as Robin. But, if someone is going to be Robin, they have to be prepared, more prepared than he was. Jason doesn't want someone else to end up like him and he knows Tim, kind of. He owes Dick for everything Jason has put him through and Jason did always like helping with the training. It's not a difficult decision.

"Good, that's what I expect." Dick nearly chuckles. "If he's going to be Robin, he needs a good teacher."

"Wouldn't go that far, man." Jason shakes his head, still getting used to Dick being nice.

"You trained y/n and look at what she can do. That is mostly on you. Do the same for Tim. I'll have him in Gotham tomorrow."

"You just gonna send him to me?" Jason's brows pull together as he puts a hand on his hip.

"No, I'm going to send him on a mission that is all just a ruse to get him there. You'll find him and go from there. Don't tell him." Dick explains simply as if Jason should have known Dick would have a...ruse?

"So, you're gonna send him here on a fake mission with no training as Robin?" Jason lets out a laugh. That's ridiculous and somehow Jason finds himself not entirely surprised. "Why not just fucking tell him, man?"

"I want to instill confidence in him." Dick states, almost defensively. He's trying his best and he also knows that Tim is very confident and maybe he needs to see he needs the help. "Should have done it with you guys. Not making the mistake again."

Jason clears his through. "Yeah, okay, deserved that." Jason shakes his head. "Alright, just let me know when he's on his way and where I need to be. I'll get him ready to actually be Robin."

"Thanks, Jason." Dick's voice is sincere.

"Yeah, don't mention it." Jason lets out a sigh before he hangs up.

He plops onto his bed, his eyes falling onto the helmet resting on the dresser on the opposite side of the room. Right after leaving the manor from talking to Bruce, this is not where he saw Red Hood being. Being a vigilante is now something Jason feels like he has to do, he likes it but he is trained to do it. He's trained to help people and if no one else is going to help them, Jason might as well. It's taken a little getting used to, rebranding Red Hood in a way. Red Hood is not a murderer. He kills really horrible people for the greater good. He targets people like Black Mask and Penguin by working his own circle to steal their business. He sabotages their work and steals their shipments. That part is always a bit fun. Red Hood patrols Crime Alley. He helps them. He is not a murderer.

He's still getting used to it but it's better than it was. Even if the blood on his hands burns from time to time.

This is kind of nice though, the ability to train Tim. He does miss that part a bit, training with someone. Training alone only does so much sometimes. Jason liked helping train the other younger Titans. It made him feel important and now he gets to train Tim. He'll never tell Dick, but it means a lot for him to ask for help here even if it's just because the Titans have been busy.

This is the last one for the night. You've been tracking this group of people who work for a pretty bad pimp in the city. You've gotten a couple of the women to turn and Barbara has put them into protective custody, immunity from any and all charges. It's not them they want anyway. It's the pimp and his right hand but when women stopped showing up, he got wind and went into hiding. So, did most of his men and women. Until tonight when Molly grabbed one of them on a camera in Gotham Heights. You wasted no time in trailing him.

The second this guy sees you, he takes off like a bat out of hell and the only thing you can do is roll your eyes and go after him. They always run. It's like they really think running is going to work for them. Between the cardio and the grappling hook and the bike, why do they think they'll actually get away? They always run.

The guy thinks he's smarter and quicker. Well, maybe he's quicker but he is not smarter. Molly is tracking him through every traffic camera he hits while you stay a good distance behind him until the opportunity comes for you to get onto a rooftop and continue the chase that way. He's heading somwhere, it won't be toward his boss. There's no way he's that stupid but he is heading into the perfect spot for you to grab him.

You turn off and then jump a few more buildings before ducking down into an alley. You walk to the very end and then wait a few seconds for the running footsteps to come closer. You grab a knife from your belt and then just as he goes to run past, you grab him, spinning him and pinning him against the alley wall.

You hold the knife to his neck and press it into his skin, not enough to cause serious damage, just enough to let him bleed. Blood gets people talking quicker and you're tired and hungry.

"Where is he?" You demand.

The man gulps and the blade presses into his neck further, his breathing heavy and shallow. "I don't know who you're—"

"Your boss. Yes, you do. You're all in hiding but you came out and for what? Where he is?" You question again, not in the mood to even let him think for a second he's smarter than you.

He looks at you with terror. Somehow, he wishes it were The Bat that grabbed him and yet he finds himself thankful it's not The Red Hood. The Bat won't kill him but Red Hood would make sure his death was painful if he really wanted to. You're not one to be messed with either. But his boss? That's just signing his death certificate.

You pull the knife away, kneeing him in the stomach before you land a punch to his face. You don't want to kill him. You read his record. Wrong crowd at sixteen. He was probably manipulated into this, too. He's a victim, too. But, he needs to give up his boss.

The man groans, sliding down the wall as he holds his jaw. "Fuck!"

"Tell me." You grit your teeth.

"He'll fucking kill me! I'd rather you just send me to Arkham or Blackgate! I'm not a fuckin' rat." The guy seethes but there's a quiver in his voice.

You roll your eyes. "Yes, I'm aware he'll kill you."

"What the fu—"

"So tell me and give me a reason to make sure he doesn't." You offer. "You think I'm here to kill you? If I wanted you dead, I'd kill you myself. Tell me and we'll protect you." The offer is genuine even if it comes out snippy.

"I don't believe a damn thing you say." The man gives you a weak scoff and diverts his eyes to the street.

"That's a you problem then. I'm trying to help you while you help me." You offer. "It's a real offer."

"Immunity then." The man fires back without even thinking.

You scoff. Does he not realize that the whole vigilante thing is still a crime? You can't promise that. "No. And I don't have the ability to promise that anyway. Work out with the DA. I can get you into protective custody though if you give him up."

Barbara has you working this case involving some sort of ring with sex workers. It's definitely more than just some guy calling the shots and dividing up money. Missing women, bodies turning up, drugs, it all seems to lead back to him. Your argument was that half the people working under this guy are victims, too. Some of those people are given the opportunity to flip and if they do, they're given protection. Barbara said the DA isn't too happy about it and some of the civilians will probably be pissed but you don't care. Not all of them have to go down with the ship.

"Look, he's going to find out you were with me and he's going to think you flipped or you're thinking about it. You're a dead man the second you walk out of this alley if you don't help me and we both know it."

The man lets out a sigh. "Crime Alley." He finally caves. "I don't know exactly where. I heard there are only a few women who know and then his right hand, that's it."

You nod accepting the response. It's way better than nothing. "Thank you."

"You're really gonna help?"

"Yeah, of course." You get to your feet.

"Why?"

You shrug. "You're not the big problem here." You answer casually. "My advice though, take whatever punishment is dealt to you and serve it and then get out. There's a program. The commissioner will give you information about it if they decide to try you."

"Thank you." The guy nods.

"Mhm." You hum, pulling out your own zip ties before you zip tie his hands together but before you get Molly to call Barbara, Molly comes in through the comms.

"Hey, I've got Dick on the other line, you wanna take it?" Molly asks.

"Yeah, actually, I'm done here. Let the commissioner know he flipped and I got info on him so he's good." You answer.

"Got it." Molly answers before she patches Dick in.

"I need your help with something." Dick starts without wasting a single second.

Your brows pull together. "Uh, hello to you, too?" You question as you get back to your feet. "The fuck do you need my help with? I do not want to go to Metropolis." You let out a chuckle before you look out onto the street and then back back into the alley.

"Superman?!" The guy on the ground yells.

"No, Nightwing." You scoff. "Shut up. You're done talking."

"Are you on a job right now?" Dick almost yells and at this point, he expects nothing less.

"Oh, yeah, just wrapping up." Your voice is almost cheery on the other end.

"Okay..." Dick holds the bridge of his nose, not even wanting to unpack that. "I need you to help train Tim."

You cackle on the other end. "Okay, hold on, let me wrap this up. This shit needs my attention." You laugh looking back to the guy. "Alright they'll be here in a few to arrest you but I gotta head out so...sorry about this." You pull your fist back, punching the guy and knocking him unconscious. "Anyway," You start before you shoot your grappling hook at the roof and start your jumping and walking to your bike. "You need me to do what now?"

"I need you to help train Tim to be Robin." Dick repeats.

"Is that not your job?" You quip back with a laugh.

Dick sighs, seeing as he is clearly going to have the same conversation twice. "We've been busy."

"Yeah, Gar and Tim said something about Zombie Deathstroke. Sounds fucking insane. Glad I'm not there." You laugh before jumping onto a neighboring rooftop. "Wait, okay hold on." You shake your head. "You're gonna send Tim here?"

"Yes. On a fake mission to build confidence." Since he's already had this conversation, Dick knows exactly what to cut out and include in his response to get this conversation over quickly.

"Uh-huh." You nod, getting the feeling there's a bit more to this than Dick is leading on. "Right, yeah, got it. Fair enough, I guess. And why are you asking me?" You ask knowing Jason is right there in Gotham City as well.

"You're good at this, you're the newest member besides Conner but well..."

"Superboy." You finish. "Unfair fight."

"Exactly. You also have your combat clairvoyance. Jason always said you were a good sparring partner because you fit." Dick's voice is casual and simple, you know there's something he is not telling you. He's nicer than he was before. The stick is no longer up his ass, but he's being too nice.

"Yeah, he did." You roll your shoulders before jumping to the next rooftop. "And uh, why are you not asking Jason?" You ask before it goes completely silent. And you know immediately. "Oh, you did." You state.

"I did." Dick answers simply.

Of course, Dick asked Jason first. You aren't offended or hurt by it. Asking Jason to train Tim is smart. But, not immediately telling you means one of two things. Either Jason said yes and Dick is setting you both up which makes you want to jump off this rooftop or Jason said no and Dick just wasn't going to tell you. Unfortunately, you're betting on the first option just because you know Jason wouldn't send Tim to the wolves.

"And he said yes, didn't he?" Your voice is a little snippy this time.

"He did." Dick keeps his voice level, unsure if you're going to start yelling or not.

"Okay so you're asking me to help Jason train Tim but Jason doesn't know you're asking me and you weren't going to tell me but because I asked you were obligated not to lie to me in fear I'd be pissed off enough to walk out and so would Jason?"

"When you put it that way." Dick states. "Look, I know it's complicated right now." Dick tries to reason with you.

"We're not fucking talking, Dick like..." You let out a breath. "He probably doesn't want to see me, ya know?" You nearly whine at the thought because you really believe it.

You hurt him.

"I know but this is for Tim." Dick urges.

You might be giving Dick a hard time but you both know you'll agree. Not only is Dick asking for a favor but it's also Tim. You would never not help Tim especially with everything that's happened. You owe Dick and Tim for everything. But, that doesn't make the situation any easier for you.

"Jason is gonna be pissed if he finds out, ya know?" You ask.

"Yeah." Dick answers. "Tim will get the best training from the both of you though."

"Yeah." You roll your eyes. "Fine. Yeah, I'll help and I won't tell Jason. Just when and where?"

"Tomorrow, I'll text you the rest." Dick answers. "Thank you."

"Mhm." You hum.

Dick feels bad for you and Jason. You've both been through a lot individually and together. It's two of the things that brought you together in the first place. You two always seemed to make each other happy and you actually seemed really good for each other. Dick knows first hand it's not easy and it is always complicated. It's always going to be painful trying to work out the romance department while being a vigilante. It's why it didn't work with him and Barbara. It's why it didn't work with him and Dawn. It's not easy. But, he feels bad for you both. It feels like you weren't given a chance.

"Talk to him." Dick states carefully.

You groan as you look to the sky. "You're not giving me a fucking choice are you, Dickolas?"

"You know what I mean." Dick says right back.

While you appreciate the sentiment, you are not taking dating advice from Dick Grayson. As far as you know, Dick's been in love with Kory for almost a year, at least and he has not said a single word to her about it. At least you told Jason. The way you see it, Dick should be taking dating advice from you.

"You tell Kory how you feel about her and I'll have a conversation with Jason." You offer in a higher-pitched voice, offering a bit of bite in your words.

"Okay no—"

"Yes." You quip back. "Don't give me advice if you're not going to take the same advice." You jump to the last rooftop. "She feels the same way anyway." You mutter softly.

"Alright, thank you." Dick cuts you off. "Talk to him. Tim won't know you're helping him."

"Gathered. Just let me know. I know to keep my mouth shut. I got it." You assure him.

"Thank you."

"You owe me." You laugh softly on the other end before ending the call.

After the run-in earlier tonight, you weren't sure when you'd want to see Jason again. At first, you thought about it all the time. Maybe you'd run into each other just as you did earlier and he'd make some quip about you being in his territory and you'd make fun of him for needing your help. Something would click and you'd be back to normal and it would feel good. The void in your chest will fill again and it would be normal. But that's not what happened because more time passed and you think about how maybe he's mad at you. He should be mad at you still. The more time that passed, the more you convinced yourself it was what you deserved. So, you keep your distance on purpose from him. Maybe that's your penance.

But now, you have to face him.

So, you head back to the apartment to mentally prepare. Jason Todd is still the Jason you always loved and you have to act like you're fine. You have to act like it is not eating you away inside to think about him. Everything has been going okay and you're finding yourself in this city. You think your feet are starting to land on solid ground for once. But, the thought of seeing Jason makes you feel like the earth is being pulled from under your feet. It's the one thing you have deliberately not dealt with. So, you know you have to act like it's all normal. If you're going to be able to do this with him, it has to feel normal. You have to feel normal otherwise it'll be sad and awkward and painful. Maybe he won't want your help anyway.

In no way did you expect your first time speaking to Jason again would be because Dick asked for help. But, it looks like that's exactly what's going to happen. And maybe your bones are starting to vibrate with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. You might feel guilty and you might be worried but you miss seeing him. You miss the way his voice sounds. You miss him more than words could ever describe.

Maybe you hope he misses you, too even if you don't deserve it.

Maybe as the night goes on and you get ready for bed and tell Molly about it, maybe you can't wait to see him.

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Tag List: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss  // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmesss // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @stainedstardom // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash  // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover //  @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @ginger24880 // @urmomsgayforme5 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz // @lovefks // @laurelthesimp // @strawberryforks // @mxtokko // @kolpvii

[theferrarieffect]

snickerdoodles, chapter 3: drifting apart, keeping in touch, a bar near-miss and a senior year surprise (4.9k words)

previous chapter here!

warnings: a bit more angst followed by fluff, the slowest burn (sorry)

chapter 3: let them eat macarons (or cake)

The cookies sit heavy in your bag, straps digging into your shoulder, while the foam of the orange headphones that have been on your head for more than an hour now squeeze your temples uncomfortably. But you don’t notice either of those things, because your eyes are glued to the monitors showing everyone’s track position, and your heart hammers in your chest not unlike the way it does when the anesthetist announces there’s five minutes to go before rewarming.

Oscar tries to negotiate Lewis in Turn 15, but even you can see that Hamilton pulls a dirty defensive move, squeezing Oscar dangerously close to the wall. The radio beeps.

“Man, Hamilton is trying to kill someone today.”

A chill runs down your spine. When you streamed the races from the comfort of your own couch, you hadn’t realized, really, exactly how fast these drivers go. But watching and hearing them take sharp corners at the speeds you take your car on the motorway when you’re hurrying to the hospital…Oscar’s right. He could kill someone. Literally.

There’s no way you could work for motorsport, at least not in a capacity where you have to come to all the races. But then, you feel a crazy compulsion to come, as if you need to be there, need to make sure nothing bad happens to him.

Lewis attempts to chase Lando down, but Lando, daring and hot-headed, doesn’t budge, and you cheer internally for the papaya team. Look at yourself. Already biased, already fangirling.

“Okay, Oscar,” Tom says into the radio. “You are within DRS, you can push, last lap.”

Your nails dig crescents into your palms.

Oscar edges the car near Lewis, tries to take the inside line…

…and Lewis swings wide, retaining his lead. Oscar crosses the line not half a second behind, P4.

You sigh with relief as he slows on his way into the pit lane.

“Okay, good job Oscar, P4, P4,” Tom tells him.

“Fuck,” Oscar’s voice crackles through the radio. “I’m sorry guys. Fuck.” True to Oscar form, even in rage, he sounds downright placid.

“No worries, Oscar, it was a tight race. Good drive. Lando P2.”

A heavy sigh. “Well, congrats to Lando at least. Good for the team.”

When Oscar extricates himself from the car and walks over into the paddock, you’re waiting for him. He pulls off his helmet, then the balaclava underneath. His brown waves point in every direction, matted with sweat, but his frown melts as soon as he sees you.

“I’m gross—” he warns, but you’ve already pulled him into a tight hug.

“Congrats,” you whisper into the rough fabric of his suit.

“This wasn’t the race I wanted you to see,” Oscar says, dully.

You pull away, but move your hands from his back, holding him by his biceps. “It was the one I got to see. You’re incredible. It’s like you become a different person out there, you know that? You’re just so…in your element.”

Oscar chuckles. “Too bad the second the suit comes off, I’m the dorky bloke who likes cookies way too much.”

“Funny you should mention,” you say, reaching into your bag, producing the snickerdoodles you’d gotten up to bake at the crack of dawn with a flourish.

You swear Oscar’s eyes just light up, and he pulls you close to him again.

The paddock is much more relaxed after the race, more disorganized. Papaya mixes with navy which mixes with scarlet, green, pink; you shake many hands attached to many people you’ll never remember, all the while searching for Oscar, even though you know he’s probably tied up with press. Luckily, Logan makes a beeline for you and herds you around, introducing you to more of the guys on the grid.

“Oscar’s being held hostage by Sky Sports,” he says with a grimace.

You grin. “I figured.”

Charles, equally as beautiful as his teammate—does Ferrari hire drivers or models?—presents you with a tiny, squirming golden puppy. “His name is Leo,” he beams, waving a diminutive paw. “Say hi, Leo.”

You nearly melt, stroking Leo’s head gently with two fingers, which is about the most you’re willing to do with a creature that miniscule.

“Ay, cabrón,” Carlos practically shoves Charles out of the way. “That dog is just his excuse to flirt.”

Logan rolls his eyes, stunningly reminiscent of Oscar.

Fortunately, only the Ferrari boys seem hungry for your attention. Pierre actually apologizes for Charles’ antics—”he ees so desperate”—oblivious to Yuki yanking one of his shoelaces and bounding away. Fernando fulfills your plea to witness one of his famous celebratory dances as Checo and Max roar with laughter. And you’re pleased to be able to tesitfy that Danny Ric’s smile is as blinding as they say it is.

“How’s trauma service treating you?” Logan asks conversationally as you walk back towards the McLaren motorhome.

You shrug. “It’s alright—” Huh. “Wait, how do you know I’m in surgery?”

Logan reddens, as if he’s accidentally revealed classified information. “Ah—well, I mean, Oscar talks about you a lot.”

Talks about you so much that Logan knows what department you’re currently rotating through?

As if he read your mind, Logan straightens up, clears his throat. “Suppose you weren’t aware.”

“Aware of what?”

“Of how…invested Oscar is. In your life. In you.”

Your heart begins to pound. “I mean, we’re good friends.”

Logan raises his eyebrows. “Nothing more?”

You shake your head, lips pursed.

He looks thoughtful. “What?” you demand.

“Well…nothing.” He notices your suspicious frown. “Okay, well, the way he talks about you, you’d think the guy’s a little nuts about you. Like, he’s not exactly the most chatty dude on the grid, but I swear if someone mentions a TV show, it’s suddenly your favorite show. And we’ve all learned not to ever bring up anything medical, or else we’re about to hear a whole ass lecture on how cool you are, how you’re a real doctor. And don’t even get me started on cookies, or cakes, or come to think of it, baking in general…”

You don’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or crawl into a cave and never come out. But now it’s Logan’s turn to appraise you shrewdly. “So…are you interested in him?”

Well, the cave option sounds pretty good now.

“No! I mean—I don’t—we’re just not like that,” you stumble clumsily. Is Logan Sargeant really interrogating you about your love life right now? “We’re friends. We’ve known each other for ages—”

Before you can continue to dig yourself an even deeper grave, Oscar mercifully emerges from the motorhome’s front doors. “Hey.” He nods at Logan. “Thanks for babysitting her.”

“Hey, I didn’t need babysitting—” you say, and then see the faintest whisper of a smirk on his face. You give him a playful jab in the side with your elbow.

“I don’t know,” Logan says innocently, “by the way you were wandering around, looking like a lost sheep…”

Oscar laughs, really laughs, and then you know Logan’s actually his friend, even off the track. That laugh is sunshine. That laugh is the crest of a wave on the Australian beach.

“Let me guess,” Logan says. “Lando’s already drunk.”

“He’s halfway to the bars in London,” Oscar chuckles.

“When are you heading to?”

Oscar glances at you, then back at Logan. “Actually, I was thinking of sitting this one out?”

“What?” you say. “Why? You should go celebrate. It’s an off week next week too.”

“You on nights this week?” Oscar turns to face you.

“Yeah, although I don’t see how that’s relevant,” you retort.

Oscar hums. “Welllllll…hypothetically, it’d be good for you to be staying up late, right? To prepare.”

You have to laugh at that. “Are you saying you want me to go to your team’s afterparty?”

Logan says nothing, eyes flickering back and forth between the two of you, an infuriatingly knowing smile plastered on his face.

You imagine taking a few tequila shots—something you haven’t done since uni, really—and jumping up and down on the dance floor with a bunch of strangers. Logan’s eyes search your face imploringly.

“I guess I could go,” you say hesitantly. Oscar brightens. “But I’m not staying late, or going crazy. That’s all on you.”

“Deal,” Oscar says.

“Deal,” Logan smirks.

You’re not sure what you’ve just signed up for.

~

“Sweetie,” your mom says one day, “the almond flour’s about to go bad. Weren’t you going to make macarons?”

Yeah, with him, you think bitterly. “I guess so. Haven’t been baking much recently.”

“Not as fun without Oscar, huh?” your mom’s voice softens. You try hard to fight back tears, even though it’s been nearly a year since he packed his bags and left for London. You shake your head.

“Well…Nicole was asking about you. I think she misses seeing you too, honestly.”

Nicole? Oh. Mrs. Piastri—Oscar’s mom. You sigh, remembering all the times you’d walked over to his house together, balancing plates wrapped loosely in clingfilm, Tupperwares full of baked goods. Oscar’s little sisters crowding around you while you watched TV on the couch, begging you to let them braid your long, thick hair, which had reached nearly to your waist. You tug on the newly short, barely-skimming-the-collarbone ends now—another thing, you think, Oscar wouldn’t recognize.

“S’pose I could bring her some macarons,” you mumble, and your mom smiles.

It’s not as fun without Oscar, of course, but you get the job done, and forego the drive in favor of a walk. A perfect March day in Melbourne—crisp, cool, and dripping in autumn foliage. London must be cold and rainy. It certainly is today; you check the weather there before here every morning without fail.

Oscar’s mom answers the door almost right away—your mom must have given her a heads-up about your impending arrival—and immediately scoops you up into a hug. “You’re all grown up!” she cries, and you feel a wave of guilt, remembering your mom telling you that she’d noticed your relative disappearance. But Mrs. Piastri waves you through the door as if no time has passed at all. A picture of Oscar, no more than ten or eleven, beaming in a tiny racing suit and perched on top of a kart, stands on the mantle. It’s been there forever. You realize why you’ve been avoiding baking, avoiding going to see Oscar’s family—because they’re just more reminders of the fact that Oscar himself isn’t here.

Mrs. Piastri gushes over the macarons, calls Oscar’s sisters down to enjoy the bounty, and your chest aches a bit at how much you’d missed this.

“What happened to your hair?” the youngest one whines. You smile apologetically, tell her you’d chopped it off for track.

Then Oscar’s mom asks about your senior year, college applications, and you swallow. Actually, you’d applied in Year 11, having frontloaded an obscene number of classes, done pretty much nothing but study and build up your résumé and get applications together. Honestly, it’d been a pretty good distraction from…well, other things.

You remember how, right at the beginning of term this year, you’d squeezed your eyes shut as you clicked the button to open your decision, read “Congratulations! University of Oxford is offering you a place for Medicine in the 2017 term”, heard your parents shout jubilantly, felt your mom’s tears on your neck as she whispered how proud she was of you.

“Actually,” you say, “I’m graduating a bit early, and writing medicine at Oxford in the fall.”

Mrs. Piastri’s mouth forms a tiny O, which quickly morphs into a beaming smile. “Oh honey, congratulations!”

“If anyone could do it, it’s you,” she continues, and you blush at the compliment. “Oscar always said you were going to be a doctor, no, the best doctor—”

You freeze at his name, and she’s definitely noticed, because then she asks if he knows. You remember how you’d immediately reached for your phone, realized the only person who you wanted to tell was currently halfway across the globe, no doubt too busy with karting and his new school and his new friends for you to be so much as a blip on his radar. You’d called a few times, texted back and forth when he’d first moved, but they’d gotten sparser and sparser, until by the end of Year 11, there were hardly any messages at all.

You shake your head apologetically. “We’ve been pretty bad at keeping in touch.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it—he hardly even calls me,” she laughs. “He misses you, though, he always makes it a point to ask about you when he does call.”

Mrs. Piastri’s probably being diplomatic, so you just nod. But when you finally stand up from the dining table to leave, she tells you in earnest, “Give him a call, will you? I think it would really, really make his day.”

At home that night, you stare at his contact photo. In it, Oscar’s wearing one of your mom’s aprons, brandishing a piping bag like it’s medieval weaponry, looking goofy as hell. Maybe he’ll think you’re weird for calling. Maybe he won’t pick up.

Here goes nothing, you think, and click on the Facetime button.

One ring, two rings, and Oscar’s face suddenly fills your laptop screen. Your hands immediately starts to tremble.

“Whoa,” he breathes.

His voice is almost unrecognizable, no longer the reedy drone of a teenager’s, and his hair, no longer so cropped, dips in a smooth wave over his forehead. You had no idea his hair was wavy.

“Hi.” Your voice cracks; you clear your throat. “Been a while.”

“You cut your hair,” Oscar observes, his eyes darting around the screen, taking you in as you did him.

“Yeah. It was getting too hot for track.”

Oscar’s eyebrows fly up. “Since when do you run track?”

You shrug. “Since Year 11, I guess.”

“You hate running,” he says softly, and you feel a pang at the fact he remembered, and another at the realization that you’d joined the team because you needed something to take up your time on your newly vacant evenings. Then, louder, “I like it. You look…older.”

“Thanks. And I don’t hate running anym—well, I’m trying to like it,” you correct yourself, and both of you chuckle awkwardly.

“So,” Oscar says abruptly, all business. You feel a little prickle snake up your arms as he crosses his. “I heard something from a little birdie.”

“Whaddya hear?”

“I just—is it true you got into Oxford? For medicine?” His voice rises about two octaves on the last word.

“I—ah, yeah,” you stammer. Clearly, Mrs. Piastri had wasted no time in exposing you.

“Oh my god,” Oscar all but shrieks. You’ve never heard him this worked up before. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” you say, feeling suddenly shy.

“You’re excited, right? Why don’t you sound more excited?” he demands.

You swallow. “I am. Excited.”

“And why didn’t you tell me about it? I can’t believe I had to hear it from Mum.”

“I wasn’t sure if,” you take a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure if you’d care,” you finish, lamely.

Shit, you think, as the smile fades from Oscar’s face.

“Oscar—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say you don’t care, or that you’re a bad friend—”

Oscar looks down. You see him chewing on his lower lip, and for a second you think he’s going to yell, or cry, or cuss you out.

But he just hangs his head. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“Why are you apologizing?” you demand, horrified.

“Because…it’s true. I’ve been a shitty friend.”

“No you haven’t,” you plead. “I could’ve—should’ve—told you myself. I just assumed you were busy, and that you had better things going on—”

“Exactly.”

“What do you mean, exactly?”

“If you assumed I was busy…” Oscar says slowly, “I was the one who should’ve reached out.”

You shake your head.

“I thought you were too busy,” he blurts out suddenly. “All I do is race. But you…you have so much. Top of the class, every club under the sun…you don’t have time to sleep. How could you have time for me?”

And even though Oscar’s face is marred by the pixelation of the screen, the red that rims his eyes isn’t lost on you. Too quickly, the screen isn’t the only thing blurring your view.

“But I—” Your voice cracks; you swallow, resolute. “Oscar. I’ll always have time for you.”

You think that in another universe, one where Oscar stands a few meters and not oceans away, you’d show him how much you mean it. Pull him close and breathe him in and hang on for dear life.

Maybe Oscar hears you anyway.

He drags his forearm across his nose, tries to disguise his sniffle in a laugh. “Do you still bake?”

“Not without you…but hey, I did today,” you quickly amend, as he quirks an eyebrow.

“You should start again,” Oscar says. “I’m gonna call you next week and you can tell me what you’ve baked.”

You open your mouth to protest, then realize what he’s said, how there’s going to be a call next week, and think it’ll be the longest week of your life. Might as well bake something to pass the time.

~

Oscar’s drunk. You’ve had a beer together, maybe a glass of wine with a cheese board, but you’ve never seen this Oscar, his hair sweaty and matted against his forehead, cheeks flushed from dancing and yelling over the thumping bass, his eyes a little glassy. You’ve been nursing a cocktail he’d bought you for the last hour, pleasantly tipsy, taking it all in.

Logan bounds over and plants himself on the stool next to you. “Why aren’t you dancing?” he gestures exaggeratedly to the mass of bodies undulating to the music.

“I’m old,” you grin, knowing full well Logan has you beat by a few months. His eye roll tells you he’s all too aware. “And I have a real job, remember?”

“But Oscarrrrr,” Logan drawls.

Your heart does a little lurch.

“What about Oscar?” you ask carefully.

“He wants you to daaaance,” he singsongs.

No way. Boy’s making stuff up. “I was gonna leave soon, anyway.”

As if summoned, Oscar shoves his way past a small throng gathered near the bar, stumbles up to you and Logan. You stick out an arm to steady him.

“Whoa there, cowboy,” you tease. “I’ve never seen you so gone before.”

Oscar grimaces. “Not that gone.”

“Good thing you showed up, though. I was just telling Logan I’m about to head out.”

He blinks slowly, as if you’d just woken him from a nap. “You’re…leaving?”

“I’m working tomorrow,” you remind him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan wink, slide out of his chair, then slink away to the mosh pit.

Oscar shakes his head, pushes his damp hair up his forehead. One strand remains stubbornly stuck above his right eyebrow. You resist the urge to brush it out of the way. “I’ll go too.”

“What?” you say, alarmed. “No. This is your party. Come on, Osc.”

“Then I’ll walk you out,” he says, and something in his voice tells you he won’t take no for an answer.

So you let him lead you out of the bar—although maybe you’re the one doing most of the leading, Oscar leaning on you, an arm wrapped around your waist. You try not to pay too much attention to the way his hand feels, gripping your side firmly.

The night air is cool, and you feel little bumps prick on your arms. You shiver involuntarily.

“Cold?” Oscar asks. Before you can respond, the arm around your waist moves up, wrapping itself around your shoulder. Another arm joins it around the other shoulder, two hands clasping together around your chest. Oscar rests his chin on your head, and you feel the heat radiating from his chest onto your back.

You giggle, a little giddy, maybe from the drink, maybe from him. “You make a great jacket. But I need my arms to call a cab, ya know.”

Oscar’s grip slackens, and you think he’s freeing you, but then he spins you around and suddenly, your face is buried in his chest. He smells like his cologne, intensified by the dampness of his shirt. “Thanks for coming.”

Your chest feels tight. “Of course,” you manage.

His eyes roam over yours, your cheeks, finally settling on your lips, and your heart hammers a painful staccato against your ribs. He slowly brings up a hand to your face, thumb lightly brushing the corner of your lips, index tilting your chin up. Your faces are mere centimeters apart.

He’s going to do it, you think.

But his shoulders sag, and his hand drops. You search his face desperately, wondering what he’s thinking, try to hide your disappointment.

“I’m drunk,” he says quietly. “And stupid. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. Not ten seconds ago, you’d felt like you were suspended in the air, before everything came crashing back down. Now you just want to…run. “You’re not. Stupid, I mean.”

Stupid. Kissing you would be stupid of him. He is drunk; anyone could be standing in front of him right now. Maybe he wishes someone else was.

Oscar’s lips disappear in a thin line. A shiny black cab rolls up to the curb.

The last thing you see before you turn the corner is Oscar’s stricken face. You bury your face in your palms, still slick with his sweat.

~

“A cake?”

“It was Nate’s birthday,” you retort.

“Oh yeah, and I bet Nate was so much happier to get your girly-ass flower cake over peanut butter cookies. I know they’re his favorite.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the pride in his voice at knowing your brother’s favorite cookie. “I’ll have you know he ate three slices at dinner last night.”

Oscar’s face softens. “In all seriousness, that cake looked pretty fire.”

“Thanks,” you say, blushing a little at the validation. You had to admit you were pretty proud of the orchids you’d painstakingly piped over the bottom of the cake—no cheating with fondant in your kitchen.

“How’s formal stuff? I saw some schools already had theirs. You’re going, right?”

“Nah,” you say, “it just wouldn’t be the same without—” You catch yourself just in time.

“Sorry, I think you cut out,” Oscar says. “It wouldn’t be the same what?”

“Nothing,” you reply hastily. “I just don’t really feel like going.” You picture him frowning on the other end of the line. “Do you have a formal at your school?” you attempt to change the subject.

He’s quiet for a second. “Yeah,” he says. “Same weekend as yours.”

Somehow, an image of him dancing with a pretty British girl materializes in your mind, and it prickles at your chest. Oscar would have no trouble getting a date to his formal—you remember the picture he sent you of him on holiday, tall, tanned, broad-shouldered, with the same grin that had so endeared you years ago.

Rustling on the other end. “Hey. Still there?”

You force yourself to snap out of it. “Yeah, sorry, got distracted.” Then, in as casual of a voice as you can muster, “Are you taking a date?”

“I dunno,” Oscar replies, his tone blasé. “Some of my mates are. I haven’t really thought about it.”

There it is again, Oscar asking the imaginary girl to be his date, her blushing and nodding yes.

“You should,” you say despite yourself. “Anyone would say yes to you.”

Your mom’s voice faintly echoes up the stairs, calling you down for dinner.

“Gotta go, Osc.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

You tap the button to end the call, feeling a little like you’d just made a terrible mistake.

You tie the satin laces of your dress together behind your back in what you hope is a proper bow, fasten the straps of your heels around your ankles, and slick on a layer of lip gloss before inspecting yourself in the mirror. Not too shabby for someone who would rather be doing pretty much anything else than going to Year 12 formal with some strange boy and friends who are a lot more excited about it than you.

In the end, it was Jessica who had relentlessly begged and wheedled you to come, and you’d acquiesced, mostly to stop her from yapping your ear off.

But two days before formal, she told you at lunch that she’d found you a date.

“What?” you’d snapped. “Jess, I don’t want a date.”

“Please?” Jess widened her eyes. “I just think it’d be so much better for pictures, you know, if we all had a partner.”

You shook your head in exasperation. It wasn’t like you could do anything to change her mind. “Well?” you said, irritated. “Who is it, then?”

Jess smiled, a tad apologetically, mostly not. “I can’t tell you.”

“Jess! I swear to God—”

“Sorry, sorry,” she waved your words away. “I promise he’s not ugly and I promise you won’t hate him...you’ll just have to wait and see.”

You aim your phone at your mirror, and snap a selfie for Oscar, just like he’d asked. He was probably just waking up now...if he was actually awake. It was a Saturday, after all. And Oscar Piastri was not one to ever wake up earlier than 10am by his own will.

But this time, your phone pings right away.

Oscar  You look great!! :)

And that’s all you need to feel a little better about this entire formal situation.

You descend the stairs cautiously. You can already hear your friends chattering downstairs with each other, interspersed with a few unfamiliar voices you assume are some of their dates and all of your parents. One of them sounds vaguely like Oscar, and you wrench your thoughts away from him. Nope. Not tonight. You know you’re just going to be miserable if you keep thinking about him like that.

Jess notices you first, and squeals. “You look so good!”

The other girls crowd around you, complimenting your hair, your makeup, your dress. You think to yourself that it’s fun to dress up every once in a while. Be something other than your everyday self, forget about physics finals and the looming threat of college and boys who are going to other formals a thousand kilometers away.

“Jess is right,” a voice says behind you.

You whirl around.

Oscar is standing there, dressed in a black suit, the blush pink of his tie matching your dress, grinning from ear to ear. He’s holding a little box with a corsage inside of it.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

So you just launch yourself at him instead.

Oscar drops the box, picks you up by the waist as easily as if he was picking up his backpack, and spins around once, twice. Some of the guys whoop, and you can’t help but giggle, even though you feel tears on your face.

“What can I say?” he says, gently putting you back down. “Someone told me I should go...and that anyone would say yes to me.”

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, knowing your mascara is probably ruined for good.

“So,” Oscar continues softly. He bends down, picks up the corsage. “Does that apply to you too?”

Your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “Yes, Oscar,” you laugh, “yes it does.”

Oscar beams, takes your hand, sliding a little bouquet of creamy orchids up your wrist. Jess takes picture after picture of the two of you.

The smile doesn’t leave his face for the rest of the night, not as you cram into the backseat of one of your friends’ minivans, not as you jump up and down to the music at formal, not even as he passes out from the travel-induced exhaustion on the ride back.

You’re pretty sure it doesn’t leave yours, either.

--

taglist: @sideboobrry11 @helloooobroo @fangirl125reader

[thevirtualvalentine]

Content warnings: implied sex, making out, dry humping, gn!reader

Thinking about Sabo finding out just how kinky you are…

To say Sabo is into some freak shit is an understatement, he is the king of the experimentalist kink. If you can imagine it, he’s probably wanted to fuck you while trying it at least once. We been knew that though.

You on the other hand, are a recent Revolutionary Army recruit who has just so happened to have caught his eye. The pair of you have been spotted about the camps talking, walking, training, and various other things… but you haven’t taken it to that last step yet considering your budding relationship.

But today, he has you pinned between him and a hard wall (literally) as he dominates your mouth with wet kisses. His groin trying to find relief by grinding you into the hardened dry wall methodically slow.

Your own sexual desires sometimes make you feel embarrassed to ever bring up, and the hunger to quell them is never met. Since you’ve met him though, Sabo was different from other partners you’ve had. Being with him makes you feel drunk with lust and lit on fire by desire. You want him to devour you whole just like he’s doing right now, but harder. Much harder.

He parts from you with heavy breaths to squish your cute face in his big hand, admiring your features and swollen bottom lip as you pout. “Sabo…” you beg through puckered lips, you didn’t even know what you were asking from him. It’s simply an unfathomable need for him to please you in whatever way he wants.

“What is it dear,” he says while clasping one of your hands before bringing it to his face, softly kissing it ushering for you to speak your mind. But you just can’t tell him, you don’t want him to know all the sick and depraved things you’d let him do to you. Maybe it would scare him off? So you shy away, just avoiding his intuitive eyes.

“No no no, now you have to tell me. What has you quiet all of a sudden?” Shit. He does have a fair point. Usually the banter between you two is incessant, you’d never shy away from him; meeting his every challenge with one of your own.

In hindsight, neither one of you is aware of just how nasty you could be together, your lips just barely a centimeters apart. “I just want you.. and need you.. so bad. I want you to almost hurt me from how bad you need me Sabo.”

Holy. Shit. All the green flags are going off in his brain that he’s almost not present in the moment with you, somewhere far off in dreamland. Obviously the two of you will need to sit down and have a genuine conversation about this before engaging in something like that, but the carnal urge to split you open and stuff you full gnaws at him. “Whatever you want love, it’s yours.”

Somehow he makes you feel even smaller trapped between him now, his cock now seemingly harder than before. He smothers you in his unyielding adoration, his hands in your hair, your face, all down your body. He’s completely smothering you, insatiable. The two of you swapping spit as his tongue slides around yours, that similar state of drunkness finding you once more.

You two now have the freakiest (and safest) relationship within the ranks. Whatta man.

[danieyells]

hi! any chance you'd be able to post some of kaito's voicelines? I would love to see them <33

Our wanna-be knight and pathetic little best friend! He's just such a good boy lol. . .once again, another one who just wants to go back to a normal life, poor thing. Kaito's very much your vanilla, sweet boyfriend character with no frills attached, aside from his cowardice and his gambling habit of course. And his terrible aim. . . .

Copying all of them over isn't hard now that I've done it twice. Let's do it again for Kaito!

Default:

"{PC}! Over here! Hiya!"

"God, please don't make me go on any more missions... It's not like me being there is any help to anyone anyway..."

"Oh yeah, have you been on WickHive yet? Someone leaked next month's cafeteria menu! Oh wait... I-I already told you that, didn't I?!"

"Damn it... I could've taken {PC} to lunch with that money! God, why am I such a moron?!"

"Ask me anything you want to know! I'm pretty savvy when it comes to Darkwick!"

honestly the fact that he's a second year who doesn't wanna be here and doesn't wanna be doing all of this but he still knows like everything about the school is also kinda sus to me. . .surely he'd divest himself from as much of darkwick as possible if he didn't care

"Urgh... Limited time only, you are not my friend... Huh? Oh, I'm on TikTok. I really want this, but I'm pretty broke this month..."

You've got mail:

"Hey, new message. Better check it out, yeah? Or are you the type who's got like a ton of of unread inbox messages?"

. . .shut up /absolutely that type (and a sincere apology to literally everyone i know for that my adhd doesn't let me read and respond to their messages--)

Affinity 1:

"Ahem... Testing, testing... Morning! Heh, nailed it... Ack! How long've you been there, {PC}?!"

Affinity 2:

"Phew, should be safe here... EEEEEEEEEEK! Oh thank god, it's just a cat... I thought he found me..."

romeo oh romeo didn't you get into enough shit for this romeo? just make sure it's not Romeo cat. Because I'm sure it'll tell him somehow--

Affinity 3:

"Shit, it's Luca... Judging by the outfit he must be going to train. I better bail before he tries to rope me in too..."

Affinity 4:

"Eeeek?! Oh, it's just you... Geez, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

i know romeo is constantly on his ass, and I relate to the feeling of being scared the people you owe money will appear out of nowhere and get you, but. . .he's so jumpy lol

Affinity 5:

"Ugh, Romeo's texting me... Not gonna open that..."

Affinity 6:

"So your father runs a company, huh? Who the hell leads with that?! This is why I hate talking to Frostheimers..."

so the wording here is wonky because he's quoting a Frostheimer, but there's no visual indication that he's quoting them. But lore drop! Kaito's father runs a company! But I thought he wasn't well off. . .? Maybe his parents are separated or his father doesn't spend any of their money on him. . .or the company isn't doing well. . . .

Affinity 7:

"Argh, I want junk food! And I want to try all the new snack flavors!!"

my boy is so relateable--

Affinity 8:

"All right, time to man up and bite the bullet... Nope, absolutely not, can't do it!"

Affinity 9:

"How is Jin's skin so perfect? Fucking rich kids and their stupidly expensive fancy-ass toner!!!"

kaito really looking at jin like OH NO HE'S HOT

Affinity 10:

"(yawn) Guess I'll go brush my teeth..."

Affinity 11:

"Hey {PC}, you seem different somehow today. Did you change something? Or am I just imagining things?!"

Affinity 12:

"Noooo why does Tohma want to see me...? No way it's about something good! Could you come with me, {PC}?!"

Affinity 13:

"Crap, I fell asleep in class so I don't know what our homework is... Help me, {PC}!"

Affinity 14:

"(yawn) Man, my bed's like a freaking marshmallow. I can never get any good sleep on that thing..."

lol the Frostheim beds are too comfortable lolol I NEED A FIRMER BED TOO KAITO I GET IT.

Affinity 15:

"Huh? Oh, my pendant! You're always wearing it? Does that mean you've actually been paying attention to me?!"

once again the wording here is wonk because it makes it sound like the pc is always wearing Kaito's pendant. I'm pretty sure he's quoting the pc, who's commented that "you're always wearing it". It would read better as smething like "You noticed I'm always wearing it?"

Affinity 16:

"Hey {PC}, how 'bout we grab a bite?! I've got tons to splurge in winn... er, earnings, so it's all on me! Get whatever you want!"

your gambling addiction is really and truly going to get you in trouble. disregard that i play a gacha game.

Affinity 17:

"...Huh?! Man, nearly fell sleep without putting my phone on the charger... 5%, that would've sucked tomorrow..."

Affinity 18:

"Ha ha ha! Have you seen this yet?! It's all over TikTok. Ah man, it's killing me..."

Affinity 19:

"Whoa, when did it get so late?! Sorry {PC}, I didn't mean to keep you up... What? You're still good?"

Affinity 20:

"Morning! Hey, guess what? Luca's busy after class, so how about we hit up the diner? It's been ages!"

do you. . .do you really wanna go there. . .i mean the drinks seem to be fine but according to sho they can't make good food at all. . . .

Affinity 21:

"Sorry, I gotta stay after class today... (sniffle) This sucks, I really wanted to walk home with you..."

aw buddy. . .they could wait for you or come pick you up after your remedial lesson. . .!

Affinity 22:

"Hey I'm really sorry but do you mind if we stop by the campus store after class? I'm almost out of granulated sugar."

Affinity 23:

"Hey, do you like stars? Oh, um, I was just wondering 'cause there's this place where you can see them really well, so I thought maybe you'd want to go some time..."

he's overcoming his fears and being honest with himself and how he speaks and just. . .asking honestly, no bravado, no act. do it scared, kaito. do it scared, do it awkward, do it sure you're going to fail. as long as you do it. proud of you!

Affinity 24:

"Sure is dark. Reminds me of the closet where we first met. Remember?"

Affinity 25(max):

"I know I'm weak, and a coward. But I really do want to become your knight in shining armor, {PC}."

I love how comfortable and honest he starts to get as his affinity goes up. Still shy here and there, still scared, but he's not as jumpy and he starts treating you like a real friend. laughs with you about stuff, talks a little about hobbies and struggles. doesn't try and look cool for you. and then the honesty--i'm a weak coward, but i wanna be better for you. i wanna spend time with you. just!!! he grows!!! he realizes you like him for who he is and how he is, even if that's a weak coward--and that that's exactly what he wants! and it's okay for him to be that way because you won't be put off by it, even if it's something he'd like to grow from so he can be better for you--but he wants to be better for you as himself and--idk. i have feelings about characterization lol.

Spring:

"(yawn) Man, I wanna sleep, but I can't fail, so I gotta show up for class... Oh! I have Professor Nicolas next! Naptime."

does that mean you're good in anomalous medicine class or. . . .

"Grr! All those girls in the hall were looking at Luca! I'm so pissed off now I'm not even sleepy anymore!"

"It's finally warm out again, so I really want to go do something fun... Wish I could get an R&R permit..."

well maybe if you stopped sleeping in class and did good in class or went on a mission or something. . . . . .

"Mheheh... {PC}... You've got a petal in your hair... Zzz..."

Summer:

"Ugh, it's too hot to go outside... But I can sense a coming-of-age event on the horizon... All right, here I come!"

obligatory beach event? 👀

"Can't believe Professor Hyde still wears that blindfold in summer. Pfft, I bet it's really sweaty under— Eeeek! S-Sir?!"

"Hey {PC}, are you free after this? I was thinking of inviting Luca to let off some fireworks! I want to show him how we do summer here in Japan."

"I can't believe I get to spend the whole summer hanging out with you {PC}... (sniffle) Homework? Uh y-yeah, I finished it already..."

Autumn:

"Is it just me, or is it really cold today?! Guess I better get my coat out soon..."

"Have you had the chestnut rice from the cafeteria yet? They made it way too fancy. It's supposed to be comfort food..."

"Tohma's always reading something. Maybe I should too... All right, let's go with this! 10 Ways To Become Popular Overnight!"

well. . .it's something to read. . .never a bad idea to read.

"Apparently the moon is the most beautiful in fall since the air gets clearer. Want to go take a look?"

Winter:

"It's freezing out there! It's freezing in here! Frostheim sucks!!"

this makes me wonder what the warmest dorm is on average. . .probably jabberwock as long as towa's in a good mood? (or maybe warm jabberwock winters mean towa's in a bad mood. . .?)

"The cold can go to hell, but I guess there's outfits you can only wear this time of year..."

"I really want to go to Starbucks for the new winter drink! But I really really don't want to go on any missions!! Guess I'll never get to try it."

"Gram... No... No more mandarins... ...Huh?! Oh, it was just a dream... I haven't had a mandarin for ages..."

'gram' in this case is 'grandma' in case you couldn't figure it out haha and the mandarin(mikan)'s used to represent health and longevity and a long prosperous bloodline or something like that for new years. So i assume his grandmother would feed him a lot of mandarins every winter lolol

His birthday:

"Why did Jin, Tohma, and Luca give me all this high-end stuff?! It's freaking me out!! Thank you!?!?"

EVEN JIN AND TOHMA GAVE HIM GIFTS. . .FROSTHEIM FAM IS REAL. . . .

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday, {PC}! We'll make this the best one— Hey, give those back! Those are the cue cards I made yesterday!!"

ksjfkhesbfjh he made himself cue cards to give you a birthday speech with as little stuttering as possible. . . .

New Years:

"Happy New Year! Let's make it a good one! S-So hey, if, er, if you'd like, c-could we, um... could we make our first shrine visit together?"

Valentine's Day:

"C'mon Kaito, deep breaths. Girls aren't into guys with no chill. So stay cool... Stay— Are those chocolates for me?! I'll take them to my grave!"

everyone loves an enthusiastic boy lol

White Day:

"Do you like the cookies I made? Come on, no way they're that good, heh heh... Heh heh heh... Here, take them all!!"

god i bet he makes really good sweets too. like i bet he puts so much love and good spirit into them lolol

April Fool's Day:

"I'd never lie to a girl. Ah! That's not a lie, I swear! {PC}? Are you listening?!"

BAD THING TO SAY ON APRIL FOOL'S ABORT MISSION

Halloween:

"Trick or treat! See those carved pumpkins? I was actually the one who made them. What do you think?"

given his DIY skills i bet he's actually really good at carving too. i bet they look really good!

Christmas:

"Hey, uh, {PC}, do you, uh... Do you have any plans for Christmas? I'm actually totally free!"

Idle:

"Huh? {PC}? Am I being annoying?! I'm sorry! You're probably busy, right?!"

"{PC} seems kind of busy... I know! I'll find a video that'll help take her mind off things!"

the secondary idle audios replace the first ones after you hit a certain affinity, so it's cute to see that he eventually decides 'i'm not being annoying, they're just busy. i wanna help them' after they get closer o you. . . .

Absent:

"Ah...! Oh my god, you're back!! I'm so happy to see you!!!!  (sob) Please don't leave me again..."

he's so clingy. . .poor guy really missed you, considering you're one of the kindest and most normal people in Darkwick that he associates with. . . . also man 'please don't leave me again' with the whole loop theory stuff. . . .

I THINK I'VE SAID MOST OF MY THOUGHTS THROUGHOUT THIS BUT. He really is a sweetie. He really could have ended up a very plain and 'safe' character, but he's managed to be very charming and entertaining with his struggles and exaggerated behavior, while still being a simple and safe type. Really looking forward to seeing how he plays into the rest of the story, since it seems like his pendant may be kind of important. . . .

[twinsarekeepers]

do you genuinely think people who draw/write book annabeth are racist?

This could be a disingenuous ask but okay, I’ll bite and answer honestly.

First of all, “book” Annabeth can be black. That is how I see her and have seen her even before the show casting was announced. A lot of people reading the books now see Annabeth as Leah. Everyone has a different interpretation of Annabeth’s physical characteristics in the books and to try and say “book” Annabeth is synonymous with “white” Annabeth is wrong.

(And no you cannot use the book description or official art as an excuse. Rick is awful with consistent physical descriptions. Multiple characters have changed hair color and eye color throughout the series. The official art has literally been changed twice. The recent book had no physical descriptions of the characters and was literally dedicated to Walker, Leah, and Aryan. Rick has also said that when writing the characters now, he sees those three kids as them. This is not me defending Rick, because he’s still a coward that plays both sides of this, but if you want to say the book character is white then that is simply wrong now. She, at the very least, is ambiguous enough for everyone to choose what she looks like. There is no definitive “book” Annabeth now.)

“Book” Annabeth and “TV” Annabeth are the same character. There are no significant personality or backstory changes between the book and the show character that can justify separating the two of them like that. The only reason people are separating them is because they want to hold onto to the white version of the character. (I know there’s going to be stupid people with no media literacy who don’t know how adaptations work in my mentions “explaining” the differences, but no. The show has done a very good job at taking the character on the page and finding ways that are suitable for the screen to depict the same characteristics).

Before y’all say that people do this with TV Percy and book Percy too: it did not start that way. “Book” and “TV” Annabeth began when the show was in production, before anyone could even see how the show would handle Annabeth’s character. When some of us pointed that out, people started trying to separate “book” Percy and “TV” Percy. It was literally a tactic to hide their racist intentions. (And again, there are not enough differences between the book and tv show character to justify this separation, especially when this started happening BEFORE the show even released to the public).

So that’s a little context to how this separation even started. I know what y’all are going to say. “But just because it started as racist, doesn’t mean it’s racist now!” And to that I say, sure, but that’s not the case here.

White Annabeth fanart has been consistently used to hate on Leah, a real girl. We all know how much Leah has been getting harassed and bullied for her role as Annabeth and when her casting was announced, people used fanart to discredit her. Artists who continued to draw white Annabeth refused to monitor their comments and they were filled with people hating on Leah’s casting. Not only that, but artists who started drawing Annabeth as black would get hateful messages and comments as well. Accounts were going as far to take fanart of Leah’s Annabeth and whitewashing it (and then putting it in the leahisourannabeth tag). This is still happening today. You can find comments under fanart of Walker and Leah’s percabeth saying “I prefer the originals” or “the originals are better”. That’s very obviously racism.

For this reason, we started saying to stop drawing and writing white Annabeth. It’s being used in a direct and tangible way to harass a real young girl. If enough people in the fandom refuse to engage with white Annabeth then the hate will significantly decrease. There are the obvious excuses to this: “people will be racist no matter what so what’s the point of even trying?” That’s not true. Racists are cowards, especially people who harass children. They are emboldened only by others. If they see people continuing to support the separation between the book and show characters, and drawing white Annabeth fanart, they’re going to DO racist things like get Leah’s account banned on tiktok.

And this is where the active racism occurs. People know that this harassment is happening and that the fanart that they produce is going to be used to harass Leah. Instead of deciding that they’ll do their part to lessen that harassment, no matter how small that is, they decide that engaging with white Annabeth fanart is more important. They can say that they condemn what’s happening to Leah and that it’s not their responsibility what people do with their fanart, but that still makes the action racist.

Y’all say that you condemn what’s happening to Leah, but then when given the tools to help lessen it, you refuse to do it. All because you want to hold on to a white version of a character. You spend more time defending that choice than going into your own mentions and deleting any and every comment that may become hostile to the kids, especially Leah. That is racism.

[minnaci]

sorry i know i am not a hellaverse blog but i just watched full moon and i felt so strongly about it that i got out of bed, opened my laptop, and logged into the tumblr website for the first time in months because i knew i would want a full keyboard for this.

disclaimers: i enjoy the show and especially this episode! i like all of the characters, including stolas. what i say is colored by my own experiences and perspectives (ie, i am biased and this is my opinion)

tldr; i find it hard to like stolas in full moon. i also find it hard to empathize with stolas, if i'm being honest, and especially when it comes to his relationship with blitz. warning for full moon spoilers and discussions of racism-adjacent classism.

within the hellaverse exists clear social and economic stratification between "royalty" and "imps", with stolas being the former and blitz being the latter. much like in real life, these social identities inform everything about these characters and the way they interact with the world and each other.

stolas, to put it bluntly, is rich, and blitz is not. stolas lives in a lavish palace with imps as servants. he is not shown to interact with other imps outside of this master-servant relationship. hell, even when they were children, blitz was quite literally purchased for stolas. blitz's first impression of stolas was being sold to him, while stolas was none the wiser.

this is not necessarily stolas's fault. he was sheltered as a child, and even as he grew into an adult, he remained sheltered, seemingly ignorant to the very real class divide between him and his newest paramour. from the very beginning of their reunion, blitz uses his body to provide a service to stolas in exchange for his livelihood, and stolas accepts it because that's the way stolas is used to interacting with imps. stolas continues to "hire" blitz, both as a bodyguard and as a sex worker, and while he understands that this relationship is transactional, he doesn't really see anything wrong with it until the shitshow at ozzie's.

there is no awareness of how uncomfortable this might be for blitz. there is no empathy for how blitz might react. stolas treats blitz as an object, a plaything, a living, breathing sex toy (at one point, stolas calls blitz his "impish plaything". can it get any more clear?). as long as stolas owns the grimoire, and blitz needs the grimoire to survive, stolas can leverage that for whatever he wants from blitz. it's coerced consent. it's been coerced consent from the beginning. there is no acknowledgement that stolas holds the only key to blitz's livelihood. not until ozzie's.

only after blitz says, to stolas's face, that their relationship is completely transactional, does stolas finally begin to scratch the surface of how large their difference in perspective is. where stolas has been playing at a fantasy of being in love, blitzo has been doing what he needs to do to survive. to keep his family afloat.

and full moon. god, full moon. one commenter on youtube described it as an "ambush", and i am inclined to agree.

blitz was prepared to do what he's had to do. sex for survival. he bought out nearly the entire lust district for it, because even then he could sense that something had changed, and that he'd need to really impress stolas for things to continue as they were-- for blitz to be abel to continue to make ends meet. what blitz had no way of knowing, though, was that stolas was re-writing the rules of the metaphorical game they were playing. sure, stolas gives blitz the asmodean crystal, thereby "freeing" blitz from stolas's service, but in the same breath, stolas lays down a new set of expectations. stolas is no longer willing to accept sex as a service. stolas now wants love.

it would be a lot for anyone to take in. imagine you enter your boss's office for your performance review. you think this boss is hot. you maybe have a big crush on this boss. but they tell you that you're being fired, effective today. but they're giving you a foot in the door at a different company because they care about you. also by the way they fell in love with you, which is why they fired you. honestly? i'd probably react pretty poorly to that.

and for blitz, who has gone his whole life being told, implicitly and explicitly, that he is unworthy of love and care, both as a product of his personal experiences and as a product of his socioeconomic class, that's a whole fuckton of shit to take in. it feels almost logical for blitz to treat it like a joke or some sort of performance, because what other explanation is there? stolas is royalty. and blitz... blitz is just blitz. blitz, whose parents cared more about fizzarolli than him. blitz, whose father sold him to some rich asshole. blitz, who, in his perspective, knows better than anyone else that his greatest assets are what he can provide for other people: sex, assassinations, and more sex. blitz, who, in his mind, has ruined every relationship he's ever touched, from his parents, to his friendship with fizzarolli, to his fathering of loona, to his disastrous fling with verosika.

blitz, who was given all of thirty seconds to process that stolas really does "care for him deeply" before stolas dismissed him and shoved blitz out of his life for good because blitz didn't respond (read: perform) to his satisfaction.

i am not saying that blitz is perfect or blameless, because hell knows he's not. he took advantage of stolas's naivete in a plethora of ways. he's a literal murderer. he does treat the people around him poorly. he has hurt stolas, and fizzarolli, and moxxie and millie and even loona. blitz is brash, rude, and emotionally stunted. but much of this can be at least in part attributed to his childhood and the scarcity mindset with which he was raised. when every interaction you have is transactional, even the ones you have with your parents, it takes a lot longer than the 30 seconds that stolas allowed blitz to process that someone genuinely cares about you in a way that is not contingent on you doing things for them or otherwise being useful to them.

all that to say, i feel for stolas, but feel for blitz more. i think this episode did a really great job of like... really digging into the crux of the problem in the stolitz relationship, which is their fundamentally different perspectives and life experiences, even if the finer points about class and socioeconomic status weren't explicitly discussed.

[tizniz]

Here, have some dad Buddie vibes because I had a conversation with Hippo and she can say literally nothing and somehow force me into writing little moments:

Eddie, Buck and their little girl are out for lunch:

They get the bill. She tugs on Eddie’s sleeve until he leans down, “Yes, princesa?” “Can I have your wallet please, Papa?” Eddie looks across the table at his husband, amused as Buck glances up from the bill. Buck shrugs and Eddie looks back at their daughter, eyes the same blue as Buck’s. “Why do you need my wallet, baby?” But he’s already reaching for it for her. Their daughter pulls out some bills and hands it across the table to Buck, “Here, Daddy. I’m buying you lunch today!” Buck nearly starts sobbing right then and there.

Buck's birthday is approaching:

She saves up birthday money and then asks to go shopping with her big brother one day when he’s visiting from uni. Buck and Eddie definitely aren’t tearing up while Chris rolls his eyes but takes Lizzy shopping because he dotes on her too. And so they go to the mall and Lizzy is on a mission. And finally she finds something (it’s stupid and quirky and screams Buck), but Chris is like “uh, how are you buying it?” And she promptly pulls out her Disney princess wallet (Eddie bought it for her) from her purse (a present from Auntie Maddie) and explains. Chris is like “oh fuck this is precious and dads are gonna lose their shit” but also she doesn’t have enough. So naturally he pays the difference without Lizzy knowing. And then it’s Buck’s birthday and he opens it and is emotional. Then Lizzy proudly explains she bought it with her own money, to which Chris confirms with a nod.

[irlvelvette]

At this point I literally stalk your tumblr page 🤫

Idk if there are parks in hell 🤷‍♀️ but maybe if Val or Vel took bunny to the park for the day and they take their eyes off of her and she climbs a REALLY tall tree 🐰 then Vox has to put up with that fact that they let her fall and get hurt 😧

-My third time requesting and I literally love how you respond EVERY TIME 🤍🤍🤍

when i tell you i LOVE this idea !!!

also bunny reader imo is a little along with being as sensitive as she is normally and that’s why she’s so babied with everyone, that’s how i interpret her but if you guys wanna interpret her in a different way you definitely can !!!

warnings: none!!!

Don’t Hurt The Bunny

“valentino. let the girl off the fucking leash.” vox told velvette & valentino to be watchful over you when he let them watch you and they decided to take you to the park. valentino took that a bit too serious after he decided to make you put on a backpack leash, velvette was not a fan.

“wan’ go!” you complained as you tried running but the couldn’t due to the backpack leash. “vox is gonna kill us if she gets hurt vel!” she just rolled her eyes before taking the backpack off of you causing you to run over to the park.

“she’s not gonna get hurt piss baby! just let her fucking play!” she smiles as she sees you running back over to them knowing you get upset over fighting. “hi babes.” all you did was give her grabby hands.

“babes, i need you to tell me what you need.” you just sighed and leaned your head against her. valentino, who knew well enough that you didn’t like to voice your wants and that when you start acting like that it means you’re five seconds away from a meltdown, which letting you have a meltdown then vox finding out was something neither of the two needed to be yelled at for.

he immediately grabbed the bag that velvette brought of your things then kneeled down so he was closer to your height. “bun, look at me.” you kept your head against velvette but turned your head so you were facing him.

he pulled out your water bottle and you shook your head, he then pulled out one of the snack bags they brought for you “no!!!” you whined causing valentino to start to panic a bit.

“bun. look inside the bag yourself.” and you did, grabbing your stuffed animal bunny before running back over to the park.

“she’s going to be a handful today.” valentino sighed, he sometimes missed when the two of you didn’t get along. it only happened because valentino cannot deal with you throwing a tantrum. all over the fact you accidentally left your bunny stuffed animal in the limo and he had ran to get it for you.

“hey! piss baby! where’s the bunny?” velvette asked as you had ran out of their line of sight. “oh fuck! we got to find her before voxxy finds out.”

technically you weren’t out of their line of sight. they told you that you couldn’t pass the tree, so when you were pushing your stuffed animal on the swing and it went flying up the tree, you knew you had to climb to go get it.

they ran over and looked for you until valentino got hit in the head with your bunny stuffed animal. “stuffy!” they both looked up to see you at the top of a tree that was taller than velvette & valentino if they were standing on top of each other.

“i told you we needed to keep her on the backpack leash!” valentino sighed as his panic started to set in as he wasn’t planning on getting killed by vox today. “babes! do not move we will figure out how to get you down.”

they were trying to think of a rational plan but you refused to be away from your stuffed animal for any longer. which is why you started to climb down the tree, which was working fine. until it wasn’t.

about halfway down, you had gone to put your foot on a branch that wasn’t actually there and ended up falling, causing you to immediately start crying and velvette and valentino to run over to you.

“hey bun it’s okay it’s okay.” valentino said as he picked you up and put your head into his shoulder to try and keep your crying down. “vox is gonna kill us.” velvette muttered as she picked your stuffed animal up.

“wan’ bubs!” valentino sighed starting to bounce you on his hip to try and get you to calm down. “i know you want voxxy bun but we can’t bring you to him like this.” that just made your crying to get louder.

“idiot! we need to bring her to him now. she could be seriously hurt and you know that she’s not gonna calm down until vox is with her.” velvette shook her head at the moth.

when they got back to the vee tower you were still sobbing, they got you to calm down in the limo on the drive back but it started up again after valentino had tried to move you and had hit one of the cuts you got from falling.

vox had heard your crying from his office and immediately came and ran over to you. “what the fuck did you guys do!” he said to valentino and velvette before taking you out of valentino’s arms.

velvette and valentino remained silent. “princess, talk to me, what’s wrong?” vox said to you but, all you did was put your head against his chest still crying.

vox wasn’t mad at you. if you were ever crying he always took your side knowing you rarely ever cried unless something happened to you. he was more pissed that the two people that were supposed to be watching you weren’t telling him what happened.

he sighed before setting you down, hoping you’d at least point out to him who did it that made you upset but that’s when he noticed all the cuts on your legs.

“let us take her out to the park vox. she’ll love to have fun at the park vox. we will make sure she’s safe vox. and you let her get fucking hurt?!” the rooms lights started to flicker as he started seething.

the lights only went back to normal as he heard you start crying louder due to fear. “i’m sorry princess, can you please tell me what happened?” he picked you up, but didn’t let you rest your head on his chest.

“bun bun wen’ in tree so i go get and then fell.” vox nodded, glaring at his business partners. “where’s her stuffy?” valentino held it up and vox nodded. “good you two follow me, i’m gonna get this one off to sleep and then we need to talk.”

he went to his office and sat down in his chair with you on his lap. “let me see the stuffed animal.” you shook your head at him causing him to let out a chuckle. “i’m sorry princess.�� he said softly before turning back to valentino “val. give me the stuffy.” he said sternly still pissed off at him.

vox got the stuffed animal from valentino then handed it to you which you immediately cuddled resting your head on his chest, starting to fall asleep as you usually did after crying.

“you two. what the fuck were you thinking?” he said quiet enough so that it wouldn’t wake you up. “i wanted to put her on a leash but-“

vox sighed at valentino’s excuse. “you two are going to do whatever she wants until every cut and scrape are healed. okay?” the two just nodded, knowing it’s the best punishment they could get after letting you get hurt.

[angelsdean]

oh it's an insufferable day to be on tumblr as someone who knows dean hates human sacrifice and hates sacrificing others to save people and would rather sacrifice himself than let innocent people die for him / sam / cas / anyone. there are so many examples of this, but today i happen to be thinking abt 1x12 and the guilt dean feels getting "saved", despite not knowing at the time he was healed that someone would die for him, and how he literally stops running from the reaper to let it kill him so layla can live, because he wants to "right" things since he should be dead, and he thinks she deserves to live more than him. anyways, he'll sacrifice himself to save people (s2 demon deal, again, he thinks he should be dead already, this time feeling guilty over john's deal) and he'll sacrifice himself to save the world (s11 soul bomb) and he understands (but may not always like it) when others choose self-sacrifice too (cas willing to sacrifice himself to save dean. jack willing to turn himself into a bomb to defeat chuck and save the world). but dean is not one to say "yes" to sacrificing innocent people. he'll find another way.

dean is self-sacrifice boy! sam is "fine with human sacrifice in extreme circumstances" boy! they have different opinions about this! shocking they don't both think the same!

[josephine-futturwoman]

mmmike :) he’s fun to draw

[aroanthy]

i love how fraught and complicated discourse around various utena characters ‘dying’ is when anthy is literally stabbed to death eternally by a million swords imbued with human hatred. and then utena gets stabbed to death by them also. like. ‘death’ is incredibly interesting in rgu because most of the time it’s this ambiguous figurative thing that has interesting implications re: ohtori as a closed-off world one can escape. we are all trapped in our coffins. mamiya is the only named character with a grave. nemuro memorial hall functions as one all the same. ruka is implied to have died in the hospital— was he dead all along? who was the boy we saw for these two episodes? is this dead boy the same boy, or is this just another coincidence from the shadow girls, cutting like a knife? it’s heavily implied that akio and anthy murder kanae by poisoning her, adding to the previous implication that they were poisoning mr ohtori too, but there are no perceptible consequences of this. kanae’s absence is not felt. she’s fed an apple slice. what happens to the bodies? we know what happened to the 100 boys, but what about everyone else? and so on and so forth. ‘death’ is a tricky thing in utena, i think it’s constantly functioning on figurative and literal levels in very different ways for very different purposes. dios died. dios was dying. dios didn’t die. he grew up. etc etc

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

home from work