#And they’re looking at her like ‘What do you expect from us?’

[fanboyoff1]

Landoscar- Losing your bags at the airport (1.7k words)

Hello all! This is based off that one tweet about Lando losing his bags at the airport and Oscar staying with him. Disclaimer- I know nothing about airports, all of this was google searched stuff, so go easy on me. (I made it an American airport because dealing with a language barrier was too complicated lol) It's mostly fluff, but I suppose a bit of angst?

Also, this is my first fic I'm posting online, so please be kind ❤️

Lando sighed loudly, blowing hair out of his face as he exhaled. He wasn’t the biggest fan of airports by principle. They’re boring, the lines are long, and the whole thing seems so much bigger than it needs to be. But it’s kind of a necessary part of his job, so he’d mostly gotten used to waiting for stupid amounts of time at airports.

But this is just kinda ridiculous. He and Oscar had been waiting for Lando’s suitcase to show up at baggage claim for… well he didn’t know how long it had been, but it was longer than he’d ever had to wait before. Even worse, Oscar’s bag had practically been the first to get dumped out onto the carousel, because of course it had. They were going to the hotel together, so Oscar was staying with him. The Aussie was on his phone, sitting on his suitcase and texting someone. Lando hated the silence, so he tore his eyes away from Oscar’s gorgeous side profile and yawned.

“This is taking foreverrr,” he said, stretching from his place crouched on the floor.

“It’s been ten minutes,” Oscar corrected, not once looking up from his phone.

“Screen-ager,” Lando decided to retaliate. Oscar looked up now, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment clear on his face. Lando looked back to the baggage carousel, satisfied by getting a reaction out of the younger man.

Oscar cleared his throat. “How about we just wait a few more minutes and then go to the baggage desk.”

“Huh?”

“The baggage desk. Where you go if you lose your luggage. It’s right there.” He pointed, and sure enough, back against the wall and a few carousels down was a little front desk-looking thing, with neon letters spelling out ‘Baggage Desk’ above it.

“Oh,” Lando mumbled, adjusting his hat. 

“I’ll just tell Zak we’ll be a bit later than expected,” Oscar said, giving Lando a blinding smile that made his stomach twist with that complicated more-than-just-a-crush feeling he preferred not to think about. He hummed in response, fiddling with his hoodie strings.

After a few more minutes, everyone that had been on their flight (aka about half the Mclaren crew, including Zak and Andrea who had ditched them first chance they got) had left, and Lando was getting more and more stressed out. He was biting his lip and running his hands through his hair repeatedly, imagining practically every worse-case scenario. What if his suitcase got on the wrong flight? What if there was something bad in there he didn’t realize and they wouldn’t let him get his stuff? What if some rando took his stuff?

He didn’t realize Oscar was talking to him until a hand waved in front of his face. He looked to his teammate who was already staring at him worriedly.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, resting his hand on Lando’s arm. Lando managed a small, likely unconvincing nod. 

Oscar let go of his upper arm with a gentle squeeze, and Lando might just melt away at the spot. “Well, I was asking you if you wanted to go to the baggage desk and ask about your suitcase?”

Lando nodded again and stood, walking away before even giving Oscar a chance to do so as well. He felt a bit bad as he heard Oscar scramble upright and start pulling his suitcase behind him, but it had been a long day and he really just needed to collapse into his hotel room now.

He reached the desk and made eye contact with a short woman, her long brown hair tied up in a low ponytail and wearing official looking clothes, who was standing near the back of the small room. She rushed forward and sat down in a swivel chair, pushing her glasses up.

“What’s your issue, dearie?” she said in a strong Southern accent, only slightly muffled by the thick glass separating them.

“Uh, can’t find my bag. Didn't show up,” he said with a guilty smile. He tried to turn on his charm as much as possible, his train of thought being, Maybe if I’m nice she’ll be nice back and then I can go to bed quicker. 

“Alright love. Name?”

“Lando Norris,” he said. Oscar had reached him by now, standing so close to his side that their shoulders were almost brushing against each other.

The lady did some typing on her computer, then let out a little tsk sound in the back of her throat. “I’m sorry, it seems like your luggage got sent to the wrong place. We’re trying to get it here as we speak.”

Lando shot a glance back to Oscar, who raised his eyebrows. “Do you know what happened?” he asked the lady. He looked at the pin on her shirt, which said her name was Charlotte. Huh, she didn’t look like a Charlotte.

Charlotte gave a shrug in response. “Could’ve been anything. My guess, there wasn’t enough space in the cargo hold on your plane. It got placed on the wrong extra-storage space, and got sent somewhere else. You’ll have to wait until it gets here. That might take a while.”

Lando worked hard to suppress a groan. “Okay. Thanks.” He tried for a smile that ended up more like a grimace.

“You two can sit in one of those chairs on the right while you wait,” Charlotte said with a sympathetic smile. Lando turned to his right and flopped into a chair. At least they were cushioned. 

This night was turning shitty fast. He just wanted to sleep, was that too much to ask? And what was even more awful about this was that Oscar had to stay with him.

“Sorry about this,” he told his friend, who looked at him confused.

“Why? It’s nothing you could control.”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just…” he trailed off, not sure how to explain that somehow he was blaming himself for this. No, he’d never tell Oscar that, he’d think he was weird. The edge of Lando’s eyes were starting to water with tears, and he wanted to scream. You’re such a baby. What’s your problem? Bury it, you can’t do this right now. Crybaby.

“Hey, Lando, it’s okay,” Oscar said, reaching out with one hand. He touched Lando’s shoulder tenderly. “I don’t mind.”

Lando hugged his legs to his chest and buried his head in his knees. “I’m just having a bad day,” he mumbled, and for a second he wasn’t sure if Oscar heard him.

“That’s alright,” Oscar said, and he let go of Lando’s arm. Lando didn’t even get a chance to mourn the loss of contact though, because then Oscar’s arm was wrapping around his shoulders and gently tugging him closer. Lando practically fell onto his chest, and could feel his cheeks reddening.

“This okay?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You can rest. You know, if you want. I know you’re tired.”

“Will you wake me up when my suitcase shows up?”

“Mm-hmm,” Oscar hummed, and Lando let himself sink into his embrace, their breaths and heartbeats syncing. Oscar was really cuddly, he thought as he drifted off.

# # #

“Hey, Lando, wake up.”

Osc, Lando thought and smiled. “Wake up, Lando.” Then someone was gently pushing his shoulder, and he blearily opened his eyes.

He took in his surroundings with a moment of slight confusion before remembering. The airport. His bags. Crying. Oscar.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” the man in question said, and Lando swore he felt his fingers brushing through his curls. “C’mon, your stuff got here.”

A part of Lando wanted to jump up and start doing a victory dance on the spot. The annoyance of getting up overruled it though. He was so comfy.

Wait, where exactly was he? He knew he was at the airport, but this was way too comfy for a chair. His eyes flickered around trying to figure it out, and oh God he was in Oscar’s lap. He quickly sat up, using his hands to push himself upright. However, he didn’t account for where he was putting his hands, and ended up putting half of his weight on Oscar’s thigh. Oscar let out a little grunt of pain, wincing.

“Oh shit, sorry sorry sorry,” Lando hurriedly apologized, backing up.

“No no, you’re fine,” Oscar reassured him, but his voice was strained. He looked at Lando with a smirk. “Are you trying to sabotage me, Lando Norris?”

“I’m sorry!”

Oscar just giggled and stood. He reached a hand out to Lando, who took it. He used his free hand to grab his suitcase and took off confidently to the left, not releasing his tight grasp on Lando’s hand.

“Uh, where are we going?” Lando asked, desperately trying to stop the stupid butterflies rising in his stomach. God he was so childish, they were literally just holding hands. But they were holding hands. 

“To get your bag. Obviously.”

With no further explanation, he proceeded to get dragged through what felt like half the airport. Not that he minded. Every once in a while Oscar would look back and give him a trademark Osc Smile that made his insides turn to mush, so that made up for the mystery part pretty well.

Finally they reached their destination, some obscure part of the airport. A few official people gave him his suitcase along with many apologies and a crap ton of airline points (not that those were especially helpful to him, Mclaren paid for most of his flights anyways. It was a nice gesture though.) He accepted the apologies quickly, not wanting to drag out this process any longer than necessary.

 Then they were in a taxi headed to their hotel, and the exhaustion was coming back ten-fold.

“Tired?” Oscar asked once Lando had yawned for the fifth time.

“Just a bit,” Lando quipped.

“Want to sleep again?”

“You’re fine with it?”

“Of course.”

Lando hesitantly let his head fall on Oscar’s shoulder. Oscar’s arm found its way around his shoulders again.

Just before Lando fell asleep again, he felt a feather-light kiss pressing against his head, and he scooted closer to Oscar with a sigh.

Here are some people who said they were interested: @slugesh, @peppysinc, @sunnykasarova, @alto-the-avocado, @lailau7904, @standgrand, @chamberkat

[paxtito]

sex, drugs, etc.

pairings: vada x reader (g!p)

word count: 4759

warnings: smut 18+, swearing, use of drugs, p in v, they’re high af

summary: you’re a bright student but your sensibleness crumbles when vada is around

a/n: nothing to do with the fic but how the fuck did that orange twat get in??? instead of getting the first woman president we got the first criminal president. i’m not even american but i’ve shed a few tears over that. my thoughts are with every american who isn’t a white straight cis man

The hazy glow of the fairy lights strung across your ceiling seems a little too bright, a little too soft, like you’re floating inside some kind of dreamy bubble. You’re lying back on your bed, giggling at absolutely nothing, while Vada’s sprawled out beside you, head tilted back as she lets out a satisfied sigh. There’s a faint smell of something smoky lingering in the air, and your head feels light, like you’ve somehow managed to let go of all the things that usually weigh you down.

Vada’s influence, no doubt.

You were a goodie two-shoes once—always playing by the rules, never straying too far outside the lines. But somehow, Vada makes it all seem… different. She’s got that spark, that wild, untamed energy that makes everything feel like an adventure. One look, one crooked smile, and you find yourself following her down paths you never thought you’d tread.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, grinning at you, her eyes a little glassy but filled with that mischievous glint that you’ve come to both fear and love.

You take a second to think, to try to wrap your head around the way your body feels. Every little sensation is sharper, more vivid—the cool sheets under you, the warmth of her arm brushing yours. It’s like your mind’s taking it all in for the first time.

“Floaty,” you say, and then break into a giggle that you can’t seem to stop. “And really, really good.”

Vada chuckles, and the sound is low and relaxed, like she’s sharing some secret with you. She reaches over, tugging a strand of your hair playfully. “See? Told you you’d like it. Gotta loosen up a little, take the world in from a different angle.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, well, you make it look way easier than it is.”

She shrugs, leaning back against your pillows, stretching out like she owns the place, which in some strange way, she kind of does. “It’s not about being easy; it’s about not caring so much.” She glances at you, her expression softening just a little. “You care about everything.”

You don’t know whether it’s the haze of the high or the warmth in her gaze, but something about her words hits you right in the chest. She’s right, of course. You care too much, about what people think, about doing the “right” thing, about all the expectations you’ve spent so long trying to live up to.

“You make it sound simple,” you murmur, half lost in your thoughts.

“That’s ‘cause it is.” Vada shifts closer, nudging you with her shoulder, a quiet reassurance in her touch. “You just need a little nudge.”

You turn to look at her, catching the way her eyes linger on yours, her smile soft but knowing, like she’s already seen all the things you’re too scared to let loose. For a second, the world feels like it’s made just of the two of you, drifting in your little haze, nothing else mattering.

“What?” you ask, your voice a little quieter than you meant.

She shrugs again, her eyes still on you. “Just thinking I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Happy. Unfiltered. You.” She grins, breaking the moment with that wild, charming smile that always gets you.

Vada's words linger in the air between you, sweet and intoxicating. You feel a flush creep up your neck, warmth spreading through your chest. Happy. Unfiltered. You. It's been so long since you've felt... well, anything other than the constant pressure to be perfect, to meet everyone's expectations. But here, now, floating in this strange, wonderful haze, it's like all those worries have melted away.

You turn onto your side, facing Vada fully. Her hair is splayed out across the pillow, eyes half-lidded and glinting with mischief in the soft light. She looks ethereal, almost glowing, like some kind of pixie from another world. Your fingers twitch with the urge to reach out, to touch, to see if she's real.

"Vada," you murmur, not even sure what you want to say, just wanting to give voice to the swirl of emotions rising up inside you.

She looks at you, head tilting slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah?"

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling shy, exposed in a way that has nothing to do with the clothes you're (mostly) still wearing. "Thank you."

Her eyebrows raise in surprise, but her smile widens, turning soft and fond. "For what?"

"For... this." You gesture vaguely between the two of you. "For making me feel... I don't know, alive again? Like there's more to life than just... existing."

Vada's expression gentles, her hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly over your skin. "You're welcome." She leans in closer, noses brushing, breath mingling. "You deserve to feel alive, you know. To actually live."

Your heart stutters in your chest, pulse thundering in your ears. She's so close, close enough to taste, to touch. Everywhere her skin meets yours feels electrified, buzzing with a strange, thrilling energy.

You jerk back, suddenly hyper-aware of how close Vada is, of the heat of her skin against yours, the softness of her breath on your face. Your heart's pounding, and it's not just from the lingering effects of the high. You press a hand to your chest, trying to steady yourself, to catch your breath.

"I, uh..." You swallow hard, brain scrambling to form coherent thoughts. "I think I need some water."

Vada blinks, looking almost startled by your sudden movement. She sits up slowly, running a hand through her hair, dislodging it from its messy bun. "Oh. Yeah, sure. I'll get you some."

She moves to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but you're already standing, stumbling slightly as you make your way towards the door. "No, it's okay. I'll get it. Just... just give me a minute."

You don't wait for her response, practically fleeing to the bathroom. Once inside, you lean against the closed door, breathing heavily. Your reflection in the mirror is a mess - flushed cheeks, wild eyes, hair sticking up in every direction. You look like you feel - utterly unmoored.

What is happening to you? These feelings, these urges... they're so new, so terrifying. You've never wanted anyone like this before, never felt this overwhelming need to touch, to taste, to...

You can't even finish the thought, because the very idea of acting on it sends a shiver down your spine, both thrilling and terrifying. You're not ready for this. You're not ready for her.

Are you?

You splash cold water on your face, trying to clear your head, to reassert control over your body and your thoughts. But even as you do, you can feel the pull of Vada in the other room, drawing you back like a magnet.

With a sigh, you straighten up, adjusting your clothes and running a hand through your hair in a vain attempt to tame it. You can't avoid this forever. Eventually, you'll have to face her, face these feelings. And maybe... maybe that's not such a bad thing.

You take a deep breath, trying to center yourself. The cold water has helped clear your head a bit, but your heart is still racing, your skin prickling with awareness. You can't avoid Vada forever - or these feelings. Whatever they are.

Squaring your shoulders, you exit the bathroom and head back to your room, steeling yourself for whatever comes next. Vada is still lounging on your bed where you left her, but she sits up when you enter, regarding you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"Hey," she says softly, patting the space beside her in invitation. "You okay?"

You hesitate, torn between the desire to flee and the need to confront this thing between you. But in the end, you find yourself drawn to her, like always. You cross the room and sink down onto the bed, careful to leave a bit of distance between you.

Vada watches you, head cocked, a small smile playing at her lips. "So. You wanna talk about it?"

Vada watches you carefully as you settle onto the bed beside her. Her eyes roam over your face, searching, trying to read your expression. You can feel the weight of her gaze, the intensity of her focus. It's both comforting and unnerving, knowing that she sees you so clearly, even the parts of yourself you try to hide.

"I'm fine," you say automatically, but the words ring hollow even to your own ears. Vada arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. She scoots a little closer, the warmth of her body seeping into your side. Her hand finds yours, fingers intertwining, grounding you.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" she says softly, her thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. "About anything. I'm here."

You swallow hard, throat suddenly tight with emotion. The sincerity in her voice, the earnest look in her eyes... it's almost too much. You've never had someone look at you like that before, like you're the only thing that matters in the world. It's thrilling and terrifying all at once.

"I know," you whisper, squeezing her hand. "I just... I don't really know what I'm feeling right now. Or what it means."

Vada hums thoughtfully, her free hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Her fingers linger on your cheek, the touch feather-light but electric. "Maybe it doesn't have to mean anything," she murmurs. "Maybe we can just... feel it. Together."

Vada's hand cups your cheek, her touch gentle but firm, holding you in place. Her eyes search yours, dark and intense, filled with a hunger you've never seen before. "We don't have to label it," she breathes, her thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. "We don't have to plan for the future or worry about what comes next. We can just... be. Here. Now."

She leans in closer, her forehead resting against yours, breath mingling. Her free hand slides up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Can we do that?" she whispers, her voice low and rough with emotion. "Can we just... feel? Together?"

The world seems to narrow down to this moment, to the feel of her skin against yours, the weight of her gaze, the promise in her words. Everything else fades away - the past, the future, all the fears and doubts that usually plague you. In this instant, there's only Vada, only the ache building in your chest, the longing for something you've never dared to want before.

Your heart pounds in your ears, drowning out any rational thought. You know you should pull away, should put some distance between you and the temptation she represents. But you can't seem to move, can't seem to break the spell she's cast over you.

Instead, you find yourself leaning in, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Your eyes flutter closed, lips parting slightly in anticipation. You're trembling, but it's not from fear anymore. It's from the sheer, overwhelming desire to feel her, to lose yourself in her, consequences be damned.

"Yes," you breathe, the word barely audible even to your own ears. "Please."

Vada's breath hitches, and then she's closing the distance, her lips meeting yours in a searing kiss that sets your very soul alight. It's clumsy and desperate, fueled by weeks of pent-up longing and the lingering effects of the high. But it's also the most passionate, electrifying thing you've ever experienced.

Vada's lips are soft and demanding against yours, her tongue tracing the seam of your mouth, seeking entrance. You open for her willingly, a small moan escaping as she deepens the kiss, her hand sliding into your hair, gripping gently.

Your own hands roam over her back, mapping the dip of her spine, the curve of her shoulders. You've touched her before, but it's never felt like this - charged with electricity, heavy with intent. Every brush of skin against skin sends sparks racing through your veins, pooling hot and insistent in your core.

Vada breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at you, pupils blown wide with desire. "You're so beautiful," she murmurs, voice low and rough. "I want to touch you everywhere."

Her words send a shiver down your spine, arousal coiling tight in your belly. You nod, too breathless to speak, giving her silent permission. Vada's hands slide lower, slipping under the hem of your shirt, skimming over the soft skin of your stomach.

You gasp as her fingers brush the waistband of your pants, teasing, promising. Your hips twitch involuntarily, seeking more contact, more friction. Vada smirks, fingers dipping lower, cupping you through the fabric.

"Fuck," you whimper, head falling back as she starts to stroke you, slow and deliberate. It's almost too much, the pleasure bordering on pain. You've never been this turned on before, never wanted someone so badly it hurts.

Vada's touch is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. Her fingers dance over the sensitive skin of your stomach, tracing patterns that make you shiver and gasp. When she cups you through your pants, you can't hold back the whimper that escapes your lips.

But even as the pleasure builds, you feel a flicker of fear. What if you can't perform? What if you disappoint her? The thought is enough to make your heart race, anxiety mingling with arousal in a confusing cocktail of emotions.

Vada seems to sense your hesitation. She pulls back slightly, searching your face with concern. "Hey," she murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. "We don't have to rush. We can go slow, take our time."

You nod, trying to relax into her touch, to focus on the feel of her skin against yours rather than the nagging doubts in your mind. Vada's lips find your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your pulse point. It's distracting in the best possible way, chasing away the last of your anxiety.

She takes her time exploring your body, hands roaming, mapping every inch of you. Her touches are reverent, almost worshipful, like she's memorizing your shape, committing it to memory. It's overwhelming in the best possible way, making you feel cherished, desired.

When her hand slips into your pants, you're already half-hard, aching for more. Vada's touch is deft, confident, stroking you with just the right amount of pressure. You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans that want to spill out, desperate to maintain some semblance of control.

But it's a losing battle. With each stroke, each kiss, each whispered word of praise, you feel yourself unraveling, surrendering to the pleasure she's building within you. Your hips rock into her hand, seeking more, chasing the bliss that's just out of reach.

Vada smiles against your skin, speeding up her movements, her thumb circling the sensitive head of your cock. "That's it," she purrs.

Vada's fingers continue their sensual dance, stroking and teasing until you're a writhing, whimpering mess beneath her. The pleasure builds, cresting, threatening to consume you whole. But just as you're about to go over the edge, Vada pulls away, leaving you bereft and aching.

"Wait," she giggles, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I think we forgot something important."

You blink up at her, hazy with desire, struggling to follow her train of thought. "What?" you manage, voice strained.

Vada grins, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. "The lube, silly!"

It takes a moment for her words to penetrate the fog of lust clouding your mind. Then, abruptly, you remember - and you burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation hitting you full force.

"Shit!" you gasp, clutching your stomach as tears of mirth stream down your face. "Lube! Can't forget the lube!"

Vada joins in your laughter, collapsing beside you on the bed, both of you shaking with the force of it. It's a moment of pure, unadulterated hilarity amidst the passion, a reminder that even in the throes of desire, you can still find joy in the simple, silly things.

After a few moments, the laughter dies down, leaving you both breathless and grinning like fools. Vada props herself up on one elbow, looking down at you with a fond, amused expression. "Well," she says, still chuckling slightly, "I guess that's one way to take the edge off."

You snort, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes. "Definitely. Though I'm not sure my heart can handle any more excitement tonight."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Vada purrs, tracing a finger down your chest. "I'm not nearly done with you yet."

Despite yourself, you feel a fresh wave of arousal at her words, your body responding eagerly to her touch. "Is that so?" you tease, arching into her hand.

"Mm-hmm." Vada leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. When she pulls back, her eyes are dark with renewed desire. "Now, where was I? Oh yes, the lube."

She rolls off the bed with exaggerated slowness, her movements slightly uncoordinated in a way that's endearing rather than clumsy. You watch her rummage through your nightstand, biting your lip to stifle another bout of giggles.

Finally, Vada emerges triumphant, brandishing a bottle of lube like a trophy. "Ta-da!" she announces, striking a dramatic pose.

You can't help but laugh again, shaking your head in affectionate exasperation. "You're ridiculous," you tell her, even as your heart swells with fondness.

"And you love it," Vada retorts, crawling back onto the bed and straddling your hips. She leans down, her face inches from yours, eyes shining with mirth and desire. "Now, where were we?"

You smile up at her, reaching up to cup her face, thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "I believe I was about to make sweet, sloppy love to me."

Vada's grin widens, turning wicked. "Mm, I do love it when you talk dirty."

You shift positions, gently guiding Vada to lie back against the pillows. She goes willingly, a soft smile playing on her lips as she watches you through half-lidded eyes. You take a moment to appreciate the sight of her spread out before you, hair fanned across the pillow, skin flushed and glowing in the soft light.

Slowly, almost reverently, you lift the hem of your oversized shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it aside. Vada's gaze rakes over your body, appreciative and hungry. You feel a thrill run through you at the intensity of her stare, the raw desire in her eyes.

You shimmy out of your pants, kicking them off the bed, leaving you bare and exposed. Vada reaches for you, but you gently push her hands away, wanting to be the one to touch, to explore.

You reach for the lube, slicking your fingers, before trailing your hand up Vada's thigh, pushing her legs apart. She goes readily, opening herself to you completely.

You circle her entrance with a fingertip, teasing, before slowly pressing inside. Vada gasps, her back arching off the bed, a moan spilling from her lips. Her walls flutter around your finger, hot and tight, drawing you deeper.

You work a second finger in alongside the first, scissoring, stretching her. Vada rocks her hips, meeting your movements, urging you on. Her hands find your shoulders, nails digging in, anchoring herself to you.

"Please," she pants, voice high and needy. "I need you."

Vada's words send a bolt of pure need straight to your core. She's so honest, so open in her desire, and it only fuels your own. You can't wait another second to be inside her, to feel her wrapped around you, skin to skin.

You quickly slick your cock, positioning yourself at her entrance. Vada looks up at you, eyes dark with lust, trust, and something deeper, more profound. In this moment, she's giving herself to you completely, body and soul. It's both thrilling and humbling.

With a slow, steady pressure, you push forward, breaching her, feeling her tight heat envelop you inch by delicious inch. Vada's breath hitches, a sharp gasp escaping her lips at the initial stretch. Her hands grip your shoulders, blunt nails digging into your skin.

"Wait," she manages, voice tight with strain. "Go slow."

You pause, swallowing hard, fighting the urge to thrust deeper, harder. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus, to be gentle. Vada's comfort, her pleasure, is all that matters right now.

Vada's breath comes in short, sharp gasps as you push forward, her inner muscles fluttering around your length. It's a tight fit, almost uncomfortable, but the discomfort is quickly overwhelmed by the sheer, overwhelming pleasure of being inside her, skin to skin, heart to heart.

"Fuck," Vada whimpers, her hands scrabbling at your back, nails digging into your skin. "You feel so big."

The praise goes straight to your head, making you feel powerful, desirable, like the most attractive person in the world. You want to preen, to crow, to show off for her. But more than that, you want to make her feel good, to give her the same pleasure she's giving you.

So you start to move, slow and gentle, rocking into her with shallow thrusts. Vada moans beneath you, her legs wrapping around your waist, urging you deeper. You comply, increasing your pace, your depth, until you're buried to the hilt inside her.

The sensation is indescribable, like coming home, like finding a piece of yourself you never knew was missing. You feel complete, whole, like you were always meant to be here, now, with her.

Vada clings to you, her face buried in the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin. Her hips rise to meet yours, matching your rhythm, driving you both towards the edge. The wet sounds of your bodies moving together fill the room, obscene and erotic, spurring you on.

"Harder," Vada pants in your ear, her voice ragged with need. "Please, I need more."

You comply, picking up the pace, thrusting into her with deep, powerful strokes. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall, but you barely notice. All that exists is Vada, her body, her touch, her pleasure.

She cries out, nails raking down your back, leaving stinging trails in their wake. The pain only heightens your arousal, pushing you closer to the brink. Your balls tighten, your cock throbbing inside her, signaling your impending release.

Vada's walls flutter around you, signaling her own peak. "I'm close," she whimpers, her legs tightening around your waist. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

You can feel her body tensing, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. You reach between you, finding her clit, rubbing tight circles. Vada keens, her back arching off the bed, her inner muscles clamping down on your cock like a vice.

"Yes, fuck, just like that," she babbles, her words dissolving into incoherent moans. "Oh god, oh fuck, I'm gonna... I'm..."

Her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave, her body shaking, convulsing beneath you. The feel of her coming undone, the knowledge that you brought her to this peak of pleasure, is enough to push you over the edge.

With a guttural groan, you bury yourself deep inside her, your own release pulsing through you in hot, intense waves. You collapse on top of her, spent, boneless, your face buried in her neck.

For a long moment, you simply breathe, trying to come down from the high of your shared climax.

—

The classroom is abuzz with the usual chatter of students, the scratching of pencils on paper, the occasional cough or rustle of notebooks. You sit at your desk, focused on the lesson, trying to ignore the lingering ache in your muscles from your recent activities with Vada.

Suddenly, the door swings open, and Vada stumbles in, her hair disheveled, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She's wearing the same clothes from last night, rumpled and wrinkled, and you can smell the distinct aroma of weed wafting off her.

The teacher pauses mid-sentence, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Miss Cavell?" he questions, his tone a mix of confusion and mild reprimand.

Vada blinks, her head tilting as she tries to process the question. "Huh?" she mumbles, her words slurred.

A few of your classmates snicker, exchanging knowing looks. Whispers start to circulate, speculating about Vada's state and the reason for her disruption.

You feel your face heat, a mixture of embarrassment and fear. What if someone figures out what you and Vada have been up to? What if word gets out about your... activities?

The teacher clears his throat, his gaze flicking between Vada and the rest of the class. "Perhaps you'd like to share with us what's on your mind, Miss Cavell?"

Vada giggles, the sound high and slightly manic. She sways on her feet, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, stifling another burst of laughter.

The tension in the room is palpable, everyone waiting to see what she'll do next. You hold your breath, your heart pounding in your chest, praying silently that she'll keep quiet, that she won't say anything to expose your secret.

The teacher's eyes narrow, his patience wearing thin. He gestures to the door, his tone firm. "Miss Cavell, I think it's best if you leave and return when you're feeling better."

Vada's head snaps up, her eyes focusing on the teacher for the first time. She blinks, a slow, lazy smile spreading across her face. "But I just got here," she pouts, her words slightly slurred. "I don't wanna leave."

A few more snickers ripple through the classroom, the other students amused by Vada's antics. The teacher, however, is not impressed. He points to the door again, more insistently this time.

Vada sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She turns to leave, but not before her gaze lands on you. “Can I grab Y/N for a few seconds?”

The teacher hesitates, his brow furrowing as he considers Vada's request. The classroom falls silent, everyone holding their breath, waiting for his decision.

After a long moment, he sighs, his shoulders slumping in resignation. "Fine," he relents, his tone grudging. "But make it quick. We have a lot to cover today."

Vada grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She saunters over to your desk, her hips swaying, her steps slightly unsteady. She leans down, her face mere inches from yours, her breath hot against your skin.

"Hey there, gorgeous," she purrs, her voice low and seductive. "Wanna ditch this boring class and come have some fun with me?"

Your heart races, your palms sweating as you try to formulate a response. You glance around the room, seeing the curious and disapproving looks from your classmates, the stern disapproval on the teacher's face.

But despite the potential consequences, you can't help but be drawn in by Vada's magnetic presence, her infectious energy, her promise of adventure. You feel yourself nodding before you can even think better of it.

Vada's grin widens, her eyes lighting up with triumph. "Perfect," she whispers, her hand sliding down your arm, her fingers intertwining with yours. "Let's blow this joint."

Before you can change your mind, she's tugging you to your feet, leading you towards the door. You can feel the weight of your classmates' stares on your back, hear the murmurs and whispers following you as you leave.

But all of that fades away as soon as you step into the hallway, the door closing behind you with a resounding thud. Vada pulls you close, her arms wrapping around your waist, her face buried in your neck.

"That was so hot," she murmurs, her words muffled against your skin. "Watching you squirm, knowing what we did last night... Fuck, I'm getting turned on just thinking about it."

As Vada pulls you close, her body pressed against yours, you feel a flicker of excitement mixed with apprehension. The thrill of sneaking away, of doing something forbidden, sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins. But before you can fully give in to the moment, a sharp voice cuts through the air.

"What's going on here?"

You jump apart, your heart leaping into your throat as you turn to face the principal, her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed over her chest. Vada, on the other hand, seems completely unfazed, a lazy grin spreading across her face.

Fuck.

[razorblade180]

Inspiration

Ruby:Yo-yo?

Carmine:Hmm?

Ruby:Ren told me you paid a visit to him for some training. Said you did pretty good.

Carmine:Not really. Stances were okay but aura manipulation is weird. Probably won’t rely on it too much.

Ruby:Seems like you’re drawing inspiration from everyone you can. If that the case, I have something for you.

The reapers reveals a long weapon’s case. She puts in the ground in front of her daughter and taps it with her foot, causing it to open up. Two curved blades lay brightly inside. Their detail is so intricate in the engravings and design. It’s obvious they’re meant to combine. Carmine picks them up to find they have little heft to them but are drastically lighter than her own sword. She might as well be holding nothing.

Carmine:Wow, these are crazy looking. Not necessarily my style but I can see how they could be useful.

Ruby:They’re what Cinder uses.

Carmine:…….What? How did y-

Ruby:These are replicas I made and trust me when I say they’re identical. If you put them together then it can fire arrows.

Carmine:Why would you ever make these?

Ruby:Because, my little huntress, I can be as petty and spiteful as anyone else when pushed far enough. Use these on patrol and missions for the next month; study them well. Utility, movement, reach, all that you can.

Carmine:“Know thy enemy” right? I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting this from you considering our differing views on how to handle the situation.

Ruby:I made a vow to you the day you were born that I will be a mom before a huntress when it came to making sure my family was safe. I still plan on finding and taking out Cinder myself, but if for some reason you find her first or she finds you, then by all means, give her every layer of hell you can.

Carmine:I don’t suppose you’ve made me a parasol blade too?

Ruby:If only that’s all it took to learn Neo’s moves. I mean this, just avoid her. She’s at least a three person job and two of them need to hate her.

Carmine:Heh, okay then. Mind if we go a few rounds then?

Ruby:…It’s better if you ask Ren?

Carmine:C’mon. I know you don’t like training me but-

Ruby:No, it not that. I just…I might go too hard if you’re using those.

Carmine:So? Honestly you’d be doing me a favor. Everyone always talks about how intense you can get, all the stories of your passion and hardcore moments. I don’t get to see that. I actually feel weird for never seeing you angry. I get angry all the time!

Ruby:Sweetie, what kind of a parent would I be if I took out repressed rage on my child in a sparring match?

Carmine:…Better than Raven. Better than your mom too.

Ruby:!? Wha-

Carmine:I think you’re pretty cool, despite everything that’s happened. We always try to our feelings out but honestly it never really works well. I get you’re trying to be an example, but it’s okay if normal being a mom doesn’t come as naturally as a huntress. Mix both. I don’t care. I kinda need both. I mean if I can survive you then Cinder would be easier by comparison. Plus…it’s not like I could stop myself from swinging at you seriously either.

Ruby:Did you..are you saying I piss you off?

Carmine:You’re my mom. Every daughter gets pissed at their mom.

Ruby:That’s not…inaccurate. Sigh Are we really doing this?

Carmine:Are my eyes silver? *points blade out* Well, Mrs. Hero? Show me why Cinder is too chicken face you head on!

Ruby:Fine, but name a restaurant first. You may think I prefer being huntsman 24/7 but I’d like to have some regular quality time with my daughter after this.

Carmine:Hmmm, how about your home cooking?

Ruby:…*smiles* Deal.

[unhingedangstaddict]

It seems a lot of people are looking for a distraction right now so here's me trying to do my part. I don't have a name for this WIP yet but I have posted a few other scenes from this WIP already (this post and this post ).

Buck packed their bags while Tommy called the San Francisco Police Department's number on the business card that had been left. He learned that his sister, Cassandra and brother-in-law, Marcus were hit by a drunk driver who’d run a red light at a high speed. San Francisco PD explained they hadn’t been able to locate Avery (Tommy's niece) but that they’d sent officers to notify Dylan (Tommy's nephew), and Marcus’ best friend and secondary emergency contact after Cassandra.

Tommy and Buck took Tommy’s truck, yet Buck was driving. Tommy wasn’t in the right headspace for it and had calls to make anyway. He started with Dylan.

“Uncle Tommy,” Dylan sounded relieved as he answered the phone. “Did you hear-”

“Yeah, D, I- I heard.” Tommy confirmed.

“I haven’t been able to get a hold of Avery,” Dylan started.

“I did, sort of. She’s sleeping hard at a friend’s after a softball game. I spoke with the friend’s mom, they’ll keep her there until I can get to San Fran.” Tommy explained. “She doesn’t know yet, I figure it’ll be better coming from one of us.”

“I’m trying to find a flight but they’re freaking expensive, why are all these damn flights so freaking expensive?” Dylan huffed, he sounded like he was spiraling and on the verge of tears.

“Hey, hey- just take a breath.” Tommy instructed. Dylan had a lot to worry about right now, but not having money for a flight was not one of them. Tommy hadn't expected Dylan to have that kind of cash just laying around being a university student. “I’ll send you some money, just get the first flight you can, okay?”

“Okay.” Dylan let out a shaky breath. “You on your way to San Fran now?”

Tommy put the phone on speaker so he could send Dylan the money. “Yeah, yeah I am. I’m sending the money now. Send me your flight details as soon as you have them, okay?”

“Yeah, I will.”

Tommy didn’t talk with Dylan much longer, as Dylan needed to pack a bag and get to the airport.

“He’s probably so scared.” Buck frowned. He knew this was hard on Tommy but he had to imagine it was much, much harder for Dylan.

“No doubt.” Tommy agreed.

“Should- do you think someone’s contacted your father?” Buck asked as carefully as he could. He knew Thomas Kinard Sr was not a great father or grandfather to say the least, but he still should be made aware of what was happening.

“I’ll call him later. Him knowing now or later won't make any difference and he’s probably asleep right now and if someone wakes him up he’ll still be drunk and he’ll be pissed. Noon will probably be the best time to call, he’ll be awake and he’ll have a drink or two in him, but he won’t be shitfaced yet.”

Buck just nodded in understanding, and kept his focus on driving.

The timing worked out that it made the most sense to pick up Dylan from the airport before going to collect Avery. Buck and Tommy waited for him at his arrival gate, and soon he approached them. Dylan was about lanky, about 5’10, with short curly reddish brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles. He looked exhausted and lost as he silently approached his uncle and hugged him tightly.

“I got you.” Tommy told Dylan as he wrapped his arms around his nephew and held him close.

Eventually Dylan pulled away. “Hi Buck.” he said politely, then looked at Tommy. “Still gotta get Avery, right?” He guessed.

“Yeah.” Tommy confirmed. “We should get going.”

Tommy drove them from the airport to Avery’s friend’s house and soon they were parked in front of the house.

“She’s gonna know something is wrong the moment she sees either one of us.” Dylan pointed out. “I should be in Intro to Algorithms right now and you should be, doing whatever you’d be going at eleven in the morning on a Tuesday.”

“I know.” Tommy sighed. “I’m gonna go up to the door and get her, then once she’s in the truck we- we’ll break the news.” He told Dylan, then got out and went up to the house. He rang the bell and patiently waited.

Soon the door was answered by a middle aged woman who must’ve been Madison’s mom. “You must be Avery’s uncle.”

“Yes.” Tommy nodded.

The woman nodded. “I’ll grab her, she’s ready to go.” She promised and disappeared further into the house.

After a moment Avery came into view. Avery was 5’6 with an athletic build, and the same reddish brown colored hair as her brother, though her hair didn’t have the same curl her brother’s did. She had the same blue eyes as him though, and more freckles than Dylan. “Uncle Tommy?” She frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ll explain in a moment. We should get going, there’s some people waiting in the car.”

“Okay.” Avery said slowly. She turned to her friend and said goodbye, grabbed her bag, and followed Tommy out to his truck. She opened the back passenger side door and saw her brother. “Dylan?”

“Hey Aves.” Dylan tried to sound upbeat but didn’t quite hit the mark.

“You look like shit.” Avery told her brother as she handed him her bag and climbed into the truck.

“Thanks.” Dylan said sarcastically as he shoved her bag on the floor between their feet.

“Okay, now will someone tell me what is going on? Where’s mum and dad?”

“Avery, they um,” Dylan started, but was having a hard time continuing.

“There was an accident last night. They were hit by a drunk driver.” Tommy continued.

“No. No you’re lying.” Avery shook her head.

“They’re gone, Avery. They didn’t make it.” Dylan explained.

“And you guys kept it from me?” Avery seemed upset by this.

“Was I supposed to send a text, hey Aves we’re orphans now?” Dylan asked incredulously.

“You should’ve told me! You kept it from me for- well long enough for the two of you to get here.” Avery argued.

“We wanted to be with you, when you found out.” Tommy explained calmly.

“This isn’t happening.” Avery muttered and put her head in her hands.

Tommy looked helplessly at Dylan, then at Evan.

All Buck could do was take Tommy’s hand and try to offer some silent comfort. He had a feeling he’d be doing that a lot the next little while.

If anyone wants to read more lmk I've got a bunch of this story written and I'm happy to share if someone needs something to take their mind off other things for a little bit

[erasinglines]

even when things were different between them, when things weren’t laced with uncertainty and misunderstanding, miller was never quite able to grasp the inexplainable connection they shared, the power she had over him. and if he couldn’t explain it then, he definitely can’t now, as he finds himself wrapped up in her, kissing her in the familiar way that he does, the outside world fading to a quiet blur, when they’re in each other’s embraces. despite its openness, the display of love itself, it’s an intimate act between them, as if they’re the only two in existence, right now. he doesn’t shy away from it, from her, like he has done with someone else; uncaring as to who witnesses such a grand public display of affection. the world moving around them slowly comes back, as they part, lips buzzing, heart racing, hands shaking. he tucks them away, as he follows her to the front door, as if he could quell that need, desire. not for anything further, but just to… do that again, and again. until they’ve both run out of air and they’re turning blue in the face. god, how has he ever gone so long without something like that? because it’s love, he understands now, that still circulates between them, bringing them together again and again— how could he be so stupid, to try and convince himself that he could survive without it? heart beats a steady pattern in his chest, echoing in the cage of his ribs, as she unlocks the door, taken back in time to when this was their normal routine. when he would stand behind her, distracting as always, lips pressed to her neck or shoulders, his laughter against her skin, fingers against her waist, her hip. despite how much he may want to do that, now, he forces himself to hold back, as if to not overstep, to maintain some resemblance of a boundary, after what they’d just shared outside. that all goes out the window once they’re past the threshold of the door, his arms wrapping around her waist once she’s back against him. “ missed you, ” he echos back. “ so fucking much. ” and it’s one of his most vulnerable confessions of all, thinking back to those nights he’s spent alone, thoughts drifting to her, to wishing that she could be here with him. he transmits that into the kiss they share, here, in the apartment they used to share— the walls whispering memories of laughter, of tears, of late night conversations, early morning goodbyes before they went about their day. it’s dirty coffee mugs in the sink, and books against the wall, paint splattered on the floorboards. it’s the two of them sharing a breath, a life, a home. and it’s still present, in the kiss they share, in the smile chiseled into his features as they part for air, a quiet chuckle departing his lips. “ no, well… i also wanted to see what you’ve done with the place, ” he teases, gaze of endearment, as he looks down at her, lips tingling for more. “ i hope this is real, though. that it isn’t a dream— it feels real to me, ” but then again, she always has. and he can’t accept the alternative; that he was halfway across the country, merely thinking of her, dreaming of her, of this, of the love that still clearly flowed between them, held them together. “ but, i… i don’t have any expectations, coming up here, you know? ” he wants to clarify. “ i mean, we can just talk, if you want, ” somehow, that feels like it exposes a lot, how it’s an absent piece of the puzzle in his life. disguising it with a soft chuckle, he allows his hand to find her own, intertwining their fingers. “ i’ve really missed talking to you. ”

everything else ceases to exist the moment his lips meet hers; all that previous aching and longing and pining comes rushing from her system, replaced with something sweeter, something warm, that fills all that hollow space inside her. it’s been so long since they shared anything like this, since they allowed themselves to forget the boundaries that confined them. yet with how he’s kissing her, it feels like the very first time all over again, or at least different, somehow, like it wasn’t just a kiss out of need, but to transmit something more, something that felt a lot like love. regardless, she’s returning it full force, her lips gliding against his effortlessly, as if they were made for one another, to fit together so perfectly, even after all the time and distance that separated them, before this moment. she pours every ounce of herself into it, fingers curling against his jaw, trying to tamper her own desperation, forcing herself to slow down, to take all of it in, instead of allowing her impatience, her need for him, to take over. it’s difficult, though, with how long this desire has compounded in her system, and not even just from tonight, but over all the years since they last found themselves in this position. it really never went away, did it ? she can feel it, in the sparks that fly, that catch on her skin, leaving her buzzing and breathless by the time he pulls away, the taste of him still ever-present on her tongue. god, she’s not even sure she could form a sentence right now after a kiss like that, let alone make it to the door of her apartment, but she finds herself chuckling along with him, forehead pressed against his. “ fuck, you’re so good at that, ” she breathes, smiling against him. “ maybe we can just count that one as practice, though, ” because she didn’t want it to be the last time, no, she wanted it to happen again, and again, until her lungs stop working, until they’re both too exhausted to keep going. “ think you’ve earned the right to come inside after that, yeah, ” she teases, remaining close as she leads him up to what was once their door, shaky fingers unlocking it with haste, suddenly overwhelmed by how familiar this was, struck with a sense of deja vu, like they traveled back in time, to when this was a normal, every day occurrence. once they’re tucked safely inside the sanctity of her apartment, she turns back to him, wasting no time in pressing herself against his frame once more. “ i’ve missed you so much, ” she breathes, eyes scanning his features carefully, gaze filled with nothing but endearment, with love. “ one more, ” she whispers, leaning in to kiss him again, knowing they’re well past their limit, but losing herself within the kiss, anyway. “ you didn’t ask to come inside just to kiss me, did you ? ” she teases, yet she pauses, still, to reassess, to make sure he did want this, that she was reading it correctly. “ we definitely can, though, if that is what you want. i’m just… i don’t know, i feel like i’m in a dream. i’m not, right ? this is real ? ”

[murmaiderii]

A BETTER WORLD CHAPTER 2: MABEL'S NONDENOMINATIONAL HOLIDAY BASH

NSFW, MDNI, also available on ao3

Dipper and Mabel's parents' names courtesy of @lomy-bloom

Ford packs the last of his shirts for his trip away. He was only planning on taking two outfits, one to sleep in and one to wear through the day. Odyssey, his girlfriend of just under a year, refused to let him wear the same unwashed outfit three days in a row. He insisted it was a more efficient use of space. She insisted that that was ridiculous. He looks at his girlfriend’s much larger suitcase on the bed and wonders how she can go through so many clothes in such a short trip.

“Honey, are you done packing?” Ford yells.

“One more thing!” She rushes into their shared bedroom and stuffs a toiletry bag in a suitcase pocket.

“I’ll pack up the car. Can you grab some snacks for us?”

“Gotcha.” Odyssey darts to the kitchen. Ford goes outside and drops their suitcases in the trunk. He waits for her in the driver’s seat. After a longer wait than he was expecting, she stumbles into the passenger seat and lets out a shuddering breath.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Ford takes her hand and rubs it with his thumb.

“Just… Jesus, I just know your family is gonna hate me,” she sighs. 

“That’s not true. Mabel and Dipper already like you,” he reassures her.

“Yeah, but they’re kids. It’s the adults I’m worried about. Everyone’s gonna accuse me of being a gold digger.”

“Let them think what they want. All that matters is what we think of each other.”

“They’re gonna call you a dirty old man, you know. People get super judgemental about age gaps.” Ford sighs.

“I admit, that has been on my mind. But we can’t hide from my family forever. Mabel would never forgive me if I missed one of her nondenominational holiday bashes.” Odyssey giggles at the name of the party. That niece of his sure has a flair for the dramatic. 

“Do we really have to stay at the house with everyone?”

“Mabel insists.”

“We won’t have any privacy. I dunno how I’m supposed to keep my hands off of you for three days,” she complains.

“We’ll just have to sneak out when we can,” Ford says with a blush.

“That’s kinda hot, actually. It’s like forbidden romance. Wanna get some practice fucking in the car before we go?” Ford chuckles.

“Odyssey, we’re already running late,” he reminds her.

“Fine, we’ll sneak out in the middle of the night. I guess let’s get this over with.” Ford gives her a kiss on the knuckles and starts the car for the seven hour drive.

“God, my ass is sore,” Odyssey complains. Ford parks on the crowded street outside of his nephew’s house. They get out of the car and unload their luggage. Despite her full bladder, Odyssey hesitates to go into the lively home. Ford puts a hand on the small of her back.

“Come on, honey. Stalling won’t make this any easier.” She groans and drops her head.

“Right, let’s rip the bandaid.” Ford slips his hand from her back to hold Odyssey’s. They approach the door. Ford squeezes Odyssey’s hand and knocks on the door. Ford and Odyssey are both relieved to be greeted by Mabel.

“Great uncle Ford!” She launches herself into Ford’s arms. He fondly laughs. “It’s been too long!”

“Good to see you again, Mabel. Now, I know you’ve been eager to meet Odyssey.” Mabel lets go of her uncle to give Odyssey a big hug.

“Heya, Mabel. Thanks for inviting me to your party,” Odyssey says. 

“Pfft, don’t mention it. I’ve been waiting my whole life to be able to invite one of Fordsy’s girlfriends.” Mabel leans into Odyssey’s ear to whisper. “There haven’t been any until now.”

“Mabel!” Ford whines.

“It’s okay, babe. She’s not telling me anything I didn’t know.”

“Wow, ‘babe.’ You guys are the cutest.” Mabel flicks her wrist and guides the couple inside. All sorts of family members whose identities Odyssey doesn’t know mingle through the house. 

“Uncle Ford, you’re finally here!” Mabel’s father, Ford’s nephew, walks through the foyer and gives his uncle a quick hug. “I see you brought your… friend.” Odyssey smiles awkwardly at her boyfriend’s nephew, who is more than a decade older than her.

“Nice to meet you…” She extends a hand for him. He curtly shakes it and proceeds to act like she isn’t there. Mabel kicks her dad in the shin.

“Dad, be nice,” she says through gritted teeth.

“I am being nice. Why don’t you take your great uncle’s friend to their room while I catch up with him.” Mabel rolls her eyes.

“His girlfriend , dad. She’s his girlfriend .” Mabel grabs Ford’s suitcase from him. “Follow me, Odyssey.” Mabel brings Odyssey to an upstairs bedroom. There are two blow up mattresses on the floor, along with an actual bed. “It’s a good thing you’re with Ford. It means you get an actual bed.”

“My boy is that much of a VIP, huh?”

“No, it’s because he’s old. All the older guests get actual beds,” she explains.

“Hah! Don’t tell him you said that. He’s already a little embarrassed to be dating someone so much younger.” Odyssey lines the suitcases up to the side of the bed. Sharing the room with several strangers is one of the top things she was dreading about this trip, but she’ll suck it up for Ford. She’s taking the side of the bed against the wall, though. “Now, onto the most pressing issue; where is the bathroom?”

“Down the hall and to the left,” Mabel instructs. “Hey, if anyone says anything all dumb and judgemental to you and my great uncle, just find me. I’ll give them a piece of my mind.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks, Mabel. You’re a real one.” Odyssey and Mabel fistbump.

“You know it, dawg.” Mabel goes back downstairs to socialize while Odyssey uses the bathroom. The relief she feels in there is intense, not just because she’s needed to pee for an hour, but because this is the only room where she’s alone. She’s only met Mabel and Ford’s nephew so far, and she’s already worn out. If Mabel’s dad is a sign of things to come, she’s in for a very long vacation. At least with this many people around, no one will notice if she sneaks out to the car with her laptop a few times a day. She can lounge in the backseat and write up a short horror story about a family gathering when she needs a moment away.

When exiting the bathroom, her head kept down, she collides with another woman. “Crap! Sorry!” She apologizes. She looks up at the woman, who shares some features with Mabel, but not with Ford. “You, uh, must be Dipper and Mabel’s mom.”

“And you must be uncle Ford’s… friend…” She says with a sneer.

“His girlfriend, yeah,” she corrects. “I’m Odyssey.” She extends a hand. Mabel's mother shakes it in the same manner as her husband did. She knew the adults wouldn’t like her.

“Right, nice to meet you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Mabel’s mother goes into the bathroom, freeing Odyssey. Now she needs to find Ford and not leave his side all night. People might at least pretend to not be disgusted by her if he’s around. 

Downstairs, she finds her boyfriend talking with his nephew and great-nephew, who is the only person she’s excited to see other than Mabel. Dipper looks at his great uncle with an adorable adoration in his eyes. From what she’s heard, Dipper has always idolized Ford. Ford has confided in her that he feels guilty for not being able to see Dipper more, having rejected several invitations to family functions, as well as limiting visitation from Dipper and Mabel. He’s a busy man, sometimes not even having time for his own girlfriend, so it’s to be expected. That doesn’t mean he can’t feel bad about it.

“Odyssey! Hey!” Dipper walks up to Odyssey and gives her the first proper handshake she’s gotten tonight.

“‘Sup, Dipper!” She gives him a friendly smack on the arm. 

“Honey, Dipper was just asking me about my recent research on banshees. Odyssey is the one that edited the article you read.” She walks over to her boyfriend and wraps an arm around his waist.

“Reading that thing nigh on gave me a heart attack. Do you know what your crazy uncle had to do to get those banshee tonsils?” Odyssey asks Dipper. Dipper grins widely.

“What did he do? Tell me!” Dipper’s father clears his throat.

“I hope this story is appropriate for kids, Uncle Ford.” Dipper frowns at his dad’s killjoy attitude.

“Come on, dad, I know that his work is a little dangerous. Let me at least hear the story since he won’t let me go on expeditions with him anyway,” Dipper rants.

“It’s for your own good, my boy. I won’t even bring Odyssey out on most research trips, and she’s a grown woman,” Ford tells Dipper. Dipper’s father scoffs.

“Is she, though?” He says under his breath.

“Dad!” Dipper chastises his father for being rude.

“You know what, babe, why don’t we go get some food?” Odyssey drags Ford to the kitchen, gripping his side. She pours glasses of wine for her and her boyfriend and guzzles it down. Ford rubs her shoulder. “Jesus fucking Christ…”

“I’m sorry, dear. I wasn’t expecting him to be that bad.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” She rubs her temples. “I just needed to get out of there before I started getting mean in front of his kid.” Ford plants a kiss on her jaw. A few other people in the kitchen gawk at them. She takes another glass of wine and pops a piece of cheese in her mouth.

“You have exceptional judgment, my dear. You would have absolutely humiliated him if you ‘got mean’ with him.” Ford chuckles in her ear.

“It would’ve been a bloodbath. Why don’t I just… stay in our room before I do something rash? I’m sure your nephew won’t be the only one who has something to say to me.”

“I don’t want to be away from you. Let’s just grab a plate of brownies and sneak off somewhere until someone notices,” He suggests. She shakes her head.

“You should be spending time with your family. Mabel wouldn’t be happy if you hid away all night.”

“She wouldn’t want you hiding away, either.”

“She’d prefer it to me giving someone a verbal beatdown in the middle of her party. Go, socialize for a change. I’ll abscond with this bottle of wine and calm myself down enough that I might be able to play it nice tomorrow.” She gives him a quick peck on the lips and makes her way through the crowd. Ford sighs as he watches his girlfriend leave him to fend for himself tonight. Now it’s his sole responsibility to defend his relationship. Odyssey is certainly right that she can’t be unleashed when she’s mad. He’s still traumatized from the time he watched her dismantle the matriarch of the Northwest family for implying Ford was a cradle robber.

No one notices Odyssey’s absence, other than Ford and Dipper. Dipper is pretty understanding of Odyssey’s need for isolation. He would much rather be playing video games in his room than be passed around from distant family member to distant family member. He wanders into her room a couple of times with some snacks and some questions about the previously discussed banshee research.

“He should’ve been bed bound for a week after that, but the maniac refused to stay put for more than three days. He would’ve been back at work the day after if I hadn’t forced him back into bed.”

“I wish he’d let me come to help. I could’ve distracted the banshee before it hit him.” Dipper puffs out his chest. 

“I’m sure you would,” Odyssey giggles. “Don’t tell your parents I told you this, alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry they’re being such dicks to you. Don’t tell them I said dicks.”

“Our little secret,” she promises.

“Dipper! Come help me with the music!” Mabel shouts from the bottom of the stairs.

“Ugh, I gotta go before I blow both of our covers.” Dipper runs off, waving to Odyssey. At least she has a couple allies here. She sits back and relaxes until people start turning in.

“Baby, remind me I hid the empty wine bottle under the bed,” Odyssey whispers to Ford as he gets into bed. “I don’t need them thinking I have a drinking problem on top of everything else.

“Of course, dear.” Ford wraps his arm around Odyssey from behind and nuzzles his head into her back. They lie awake in bed, occasionally sneaking quick kisses, both stressing about the coming days. She could get away with hiding for one night, but she’s going to be expected to participate in the daytime events. One of the men staying in the same room starts snoring violently.

“Oh my god, that’s so bad,” Odyssey quietly cringes.

“It puts mine to shame.”

“Your snoring is cute. His is ear shattering. What the hell? How do you not wake yourself up with that?”

“Do you want to… sneak out to the car for a little while?” Ford asks, tracing circles in Odyssey’s skin.

“God, yes.” They get out from under the blanket and creep through the room, down the stairs, and out the door. No one seems to wake up. Ford unlocks the car as silently as possible, and they both slip into the backseat. Odyssey rubs her man’s upper thigh. “I’ve been wanting to touch you all night.” Ford pulls Odyssey into his lap. They share passionate kisses. Odyssey grinds into Ford’s lap.

“Ohh, my love. I missed you tonight,” Ford moans into her mouth. “All I could think about was joining you in bed.” Odyssey reaches down and tugs the waistband of Ford’s pants down enough for his dick to spring out. She contorts to pull her shorts and panties off. “My Odyssey…” He rubs circles into her clit.

“Yeah, Ford… god, you’re so good, baby.” She lifts herself up to sit on his dick, bringing erotic groans out of both of them. He grips her hips roughly. “Wanna savor the moment, but… not very comfortable in here. Gotta make this quick.” She rocks on his lap. He gives her those sad little whimpers of his that she loves so much.

“Won’t be a problem,” he pants. He erratically massages her clit as she bounces on him. He buries his face in her clothed breasts. “Yes… Odyssey… my—” He lets out a loud groan. “My beautiful Odyssey.” His fingers work faster, bringing her over the edge. She buries her face in his shoulder to muffle her screams as she comes.

“Ford!” She shouts into the fabric of his shirt. The force of her walls clenching around him brings him to his own orgasm. With a heavy grunt, he finishes inside her. They relax all of their muscles and sit in each other’s arms while they come down from their highs. “Tissue, tissue…” She feels around on the ground for the packet of tissues she always leaves there specifically for moments like this. She awkwardly maneuvers off of his dick and cleans up his semen.

“God, I really needed that.” She slips her panties and shorts back on. Ford lies down, resting his head in her lap. She snakes her fingers through his hair.

“So did I. Seeing my family… it’s always stressful.” He sighs heavily into her stomach. “You’re really getting along with Dipper, aren’t you.”

“He’s a great kid. They’re both great.”

“Yeah, they are,” he says quietly. Being around them must remind him of his own twin brother. Ford never spoke much of him. All that Odyssey knows is that he exists and they’re estranged. She never pushed him to reveal more. God knows she doesn’t want to talk about her family either. 

“The rest of your family I could do without. No offense,” she says in an attempt to lighten the mood. His chuckles vibrate through her stomach.

“I mostly stay in contact with them for the kids. I don’t think I saw any of them for years before the twins were born. I’m sure you’ve noticed why.”

“Yeah, I was ready to fight within minutes of meeting them. Still better than my family, though.” They bask in the comfort of each other for a few minutes, Odyssey gently stroking his gray hair and scratching his scalp. “I guess we should go back to bed.” Ford sits up and pulls Odyssey in for a romantic kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers into her mouth.

“I love you, too.” They stumble out of the car on numb legs and try to go back through the front door without alerting anyone.

“Is everything alright?” A female voice startles them both. It’s Dipper and Mabel’s mom, dressed in a pink robe, staring the two of them down. Luckily, Odyssey can lie on her feet.

“One of our roommates was snoring like a jackhammer. We needed to get away from the noise.” It’s a half truth.

“And what were you doing out there?” She scrutinizes Odyssey and Ford with her eyes.

“We just went for a little walk, Betty. I don’t know how we’re expected to sleep in the same room as whoever that is,” Ford says.

“That’s my cousin. I’ll see about changing the sleeping arrangements for tomorrow night.” They can tell she doesn’t believe them. “Do you need anything, or will you be going back to bed?”

“Back to bed. I think I’m tired enough now to sleep through the sound. Goodnight, um, Betty.” She takes Ford’s hand and drags him back to the room. The room hasn’t quieted down at all. “Aaand he’s still going,” she sighs. They crawl back into bed for a night of awful sleep.

[cupoteahatter]

Biblically Accurate Weyler/Wyler is them putting each other in a Saw traps whenever they have a serious argument, Tyler with the full context of what he’s building for her and because he enjoys watching her work out the puzzles and Wednesday with like a dim awareness of what they’re referencing but is 100% doing it because it’s fun watching Tyler start swearing when he has to unlock another lock on the door of HIS room by picking it and she’s filled that sucker with chainsaws and 1500 dudlocks, he still hasn’t found the real one yet. It’s been three hours, he might actually die, he’s looking at her through the one way glass with big sad eyes but not begging…. Yet.

[cuteniaarts]

Small drawing collection of my latest creation Emran as a teenager/freshly minted Air Acolyte, for my dear partner in unhinged OC shenanigans @katkastrofa, as promised <3

[violetsandshrikes]

I met a girl when I was fresh out of high school in undergrad who frankly, annoyed me quite a bit, but I also had an inkling to continue to be compassionate to her given a few things about her life/background/family

I ran into her two years ago. Last week, her daughter turned 1. This girl, let’s called her “P”, is a really good example of why I never feel comfortable mocking trad wives

Her perfect trad husband, who was a shining young figure in the local religious community, volunteered in all sorts of groups, well loved in his workplace and everything else, beat her up at 1 month post-partum. I reached out to her after seeing her desperately asking for a stroller on a page, confused and slightly concerned knowing both of them came from wealthy backgrounds.

The reality for lots of tradwives living “perfect lives” is this: P was immediately ostracised. All the wealth of her husband and her family meant absolutely nothing if she wasn’t in favour and doing what she was told. Her child and her well-being didn’t matter. P, at 25 years old, was basically deemed an oopsie, and left on her own to figure out how to pay for herself, a baby, find housing, and every other task you can think of.

Having known many of these women (and supported many of these women), another factor most people don’t consider is this: they are intentionally raised to be helpless. When I immediately offered my support to P, she really needed it. This young woman needed to be guided through how to apply for government assistance, how to weigh up rentals and apply for them, how to apply for jobs, how to sign up for childcare. How to sign up for your own power and internet, and how to connect them.

It wasn’t that she was “stupid”, or incapable, or spoiled. While it looks like they’re being sheltered, in reality, these women are practically being held hostage. Sure, they might be allowed to learn things that are expected of them (see: basic cooking, baking, cleaning, child rearing, women’s bible studies, hosting, and so forth) but they are heavily controlled from family life into marriage life, and they are never given the opportunity or the reality of what many of us would consider basic adult tasks.

She’s doing okay now. Her daughter turned 1, is happy and healthy. They live frugally, but they have a roof over their heads and the essentials. I often babysit for her so she can attend counselling, or go to a woman’s support group. She is painfully aware that she has so much to learn about how to live as an adult.

I don’t envy tradwives, but I don’t find any joy in mocking them either. Even when they live the most picturesque lives, they’re also practically living a real life Jenga game. If (and often, when) it comes tumbling down, they’re screwed too, and they often have 0 skills to help themselves or find community (that again, isn’t carefully curated).

[starlooove]

The reason y’all are so confused and baffled by fannita is that you still refuse to acknowledge how bad fatphobia is

[physalian]

How to make your writing sound less stiff

Just a few suggestions. You shouldn’t have to compromise your writing style and voice with any of these, and some situations and scenes might demand some stiff or jerky writing to better convey emotion and immersion. I am not the first to come up with these, just circulating them again.

1. Vary sentence structure.

This is an example paragraph. You might see this generated from AI. I can’t help but read this in a robotic voice. It’s very flat and undynamic. No matter what the words are, it will be boring. It’s boring because you don’t think in stiff sentences. Comedians don’t tell jokes in stiff sentences. We don’t tell campfire stories in stiff sentences. These often lack flow between points, too.

So funnily enough, I had to sit through 87k words of a “romance” written just like this. It was stiff, janky, and very unpoetic. Which is fine, the author didn’t tell me it was erotica. It just felt like an old lady narrator, like Old Rose from Titanic telling the audience decades after the fact instead of living it right in the moment. It was in first person pov, too, which just made it worse. To be able to write something so explicit and yet so un-titillating was a talent. Like, beginner fanfic smut writers at least do it with enthusiasm.

2. Vary dialogue tag placement

You got three options, pre-, mid-, and post-tags.

Leader said, “this is a pre-dialogue tag.”

“This,” Lancer said, “is a mid-dialogue tag.”

“This is a post-dialogue tag,” Heart said.

Pre and Post have about the same effect but mid-tags do a lot of heavy lifting.

They help break up long paragraphs of dialogue that are jank to look at

They give you pauses for ~dramatic effect~

They prompt you to provide some other action, introspection, or scene descriptor with the tag. *don't forget that if you're continuing the sentence as if the tag wasn't there, not to capitalize the first word after the tag. Capitalize if the tag breaks up two complete sentences, not if it interrupts a single sentence.

It also looks better along the lefthand margin when you don’t start every paragraph with either the same character name, the same pronouns, or the same “ as it reads more natural and organic.

3. When the scene demands, get dynamic

General rule of thumb is that action scenes demand quick exchanges, short paragraphs, and very lean descriptors. Action scenes are where you put your juicy verbs to use and cut as many adverbs as you can. But regardless of if you’re in first person, second person, or third person limited, you can let the mood of the narrator bleed out into their narration.

Like, in horror, you can use a lot of onomatopoeia.

Drip Drip Drip

Or let the narration become jerky and unfocused and less strict in punctuation and maybe even a couple run-on sentences as your character struggles to think or catch their breath and is getting very overwhelmed.

You can toss out some grammar rules, too and get more poetic.

Warm breath tickles the back of her neck. It rattles, a quiet, soggy, rasp. She shivers. If she doesn’t look, it’s not there. If she doesn’t look, it’s not there. Sweat beads at her temple. Her heart thunders in her chest. Ba-bump-ba-bump-ba-bump-ba- It moves on, leaving a void of cold behind. She uncurls her fists, fingers achy and palms stinging from her nails. It’s gone.

4. Remember to balance dialogue, monologue, introspection, action, and descriptors.

The amount of times I have been faced with giant blocks of dialogue with zero tags, zero emotions, just speech on a page like they’re notecards to be read on a stage is higher than I expected. Don’t forget that though you may know exactly how your dialogue sounds in your head, your readers don’t. They need dialogue tags to pick up on things like tone, specifically for sarcasm and sincerity, whether a character is joking or hurt or happy.

If you’ve written a block of text (usually exposition or backstory stuff) that’s longer than 50 words, figure out a way to trim it. No matter what, break it up into multiple sections and fill in those breaks with important narrative that reflects the narrator’s feelings on what they’re saying and whoever they’re speaking to’s reaction to the words being said. Otherwise it’s meaningless.

—

Hope this helps anyone struggling! Now get writing.

[fictionstudent]

How to pull off descriptions

New authors always describe the scene and place every object on the stage before they press the play button of their novels. And I feel that it happens because we live in a world filled with visual media like comics and films, which heavily influence our prose.

In visual media, it’s really easy to set the scene—you just show where every object is, doesn’t matter if they’re a part of the action about to come or not. But prose is quite different from comics and films. You can’t just set the scene and expect the reader to wait for you to start action of the novel. You just begin the scene with action, making sure your reader is glued to the page.

And now that begs the question—if not at the beginning, where do you describe the scene? Am I saying you should not use descriptions and details at all? Hell naw! I’m just saying the way you’re doing it is wrong—there’s a smarter way to pull off descriptions. And I’m here to teach that to you.

***

#01 - What are descriptions?

Let’s start with the basics—what are descriptions? How do you define descriptions? Or details, for that matter? And what do the words include?

Descriptions refer to… descriptions. It’s that part of your prose where you’re not describing something—the appearance of an object, perhaps. Mostly, we mean scene-descriptions when we use the term, but descriptions are more than just scene-descriptions.

Descriptions include appearances of characters too. Let’s call that character-descriptions.

Both scene-descriptions and character-descriptions are forms of descriptions that we regularly use in our prose. We mostly use them at the beginning of the scene—just out of habit.

Authors, especially the newer ones, feel that they need to describe each and every nook and cranny of the place or character so they can be visualized clearly by their readers, right as the authors themselves visualized them. And they do that at the start of the scene because how can you visualize a scene when you don’t know how the scene looks first.

And that’s why your prose is filled with how the clouds look or what lights are on the room before you even start with the dialogues and action. But the first paragraph doesn’t need to be a simple scene-description—it makes your prose formulaic and predictable. And boring. Let me help you with this.

***

#02 - Get in your narrator’s head

The prose may have many MCs, but a piece of prose only has a single narrator. And these days, that’s mostly one of the characters of your story. Who uses third-person omniscient narrator these days anyway? If that’s you, change your habits.

Anyway, know your narrator. Flesh out their character. And then internalize them—their speech and stuff like that. Internalize your narrator to such an extent that you can write prose from their point-of-view.

Now, I don’t mean to say that only your narrator should be at the center of the scene—far from it. What I mean is you should get into your narrator’s head.

You do not describe a scene from the eyes of the author—you—but from the eyes of the narrator. You see from their eyes, and understand what they’re noticing. And then you write that.

Start your scene with what the narrator is looking at.

For example,

The dark clouds had covered the sky that day. The whole classroom was in shades of gray—quite unusual for someone like Sara who was used to the sun. She felt the gloom the day had brought with it—the gloom that no one else in her class knew of.

She never had happy times under the clouds like that. Rain made her sad. Rain made her yearn for something she couldn’t put into words. What was it that she was living for? Money? Happiness?

As she stared at the sky through the window, she was lost in her own quiet little corner. Both money and happiness—and even everything else—were temporary. All of it would leave her one day, then come back, then leave, then come back, like the waves of an ocean far away from any human civilization in sight.

All of it would come and go—like rain, it’d fall on her, like rain, it’d evaporate without proof.

And suddenly, drops of water began hitting the window.

You know it was a cloudy day, where it could rain anytime soon. You know that for other students, it didn’t really matter, but Sara felt really depressed because of the weather that day. You know Sara was at the corner, dealing with her emotions alone.

It’s far better than this,

The dark clouds covered the sky that day. It could rain anytime soon.

From her seat at the corner of the room, Sara stared at the sky that made everything gray that day. She…

The main reason it doesn’t work is that you describe the scene in the first paragraph, but it’s devoid of any emotions. Of any flavor. It’s like a factual weather report of the day. That’s what you don’t want to do—write descriptions in a factual tone.

If you want to pull off the prior one, get to your narrator’s head. See from their eyes, think from their brain. Understand what they’re experiencing, and then write that experience from their POV.

Sara didn’t care what everyone was wearing—they were all probably in their school uniforms, obviously, so I didn’t describe that. Sara didn’t focus on how big the classroom was, or how filled, or what everybody was doing. Sara was just looking at the clouds and the clouds alone, hearing everybody just living their normal days, so I mentioned just those things.

As the author, you need to understand that only you, the author are the know-it-all about the scene, not your narrator. And that you’re different from your narrator.

Write as a narrator, not as an author.

***

#03 - Filler Words

This brings me to filler words. Now, hearing my advice, you might start writing something like this,

Sarah noticed the dark clouds through the window. She saw that they’d saturated the place gray.

Fillers words like “see”, “notice”, “stare”, “hear” should be ignored. But many authors who begin writing from the POV of the characters start using these verbs to describe what the character is experiencing.

But remember, the character is not cognizant of the fact that they’re seeing a dark cloud, just that it’s a dark cloud. You don’t need these filler words—straight up describe what the character is seeing, instead of describing that the character is seeing.

Just write,

There were dark clouds on the other end of the window, which saturated the place gray.

Sarah is still seeing the clouds, yeah. But we’re looking from her eyes, and her eyes ain’t noticing that she’s noticing the clouds.

It’s kinda confusing, but it’s an important mistake to avoid. Filler words can really make your writing sound more amateurish than before and take away the experience of the reader, because the reader wants to see through the narrator’s eyes, not that the narrator is seeing.

***

#04 - Characters

Character-descriptions are a lot harder to pull off than scene-descriptions. Because it’s really confusing to know when to describe them, their clothing, their appearances, and what to tell and what not to.

For characters, you can give a full description of their looks. Keep it concise and clear, so that your readers can get a pretty good idea of the character with so few words that they don’t notice you’ve stopped action for a while.

Or can show your narrator scanning the character, and what they noticed about them.

Both these two tricks only work when a character is shown first time to the readers. After that, you don’t really talk about their clothing or face anymore.

Until there’s something out of the ordinary about your character.

What do I mean by that? See, you’ve described the face and clothes of the character, and the next time they appear, the reader is gonna imagine the character in a similar set of clothes, with the same face and appearance that they had the first time. Therefore, any time other than the first, you don’t go into detail about the character again. But, if something about your character is out of ordinary—there are bruises on their face, scars, or a change in the way they dress—describe it to the reader. That’s because your narrator may notice these little changes.

***

#05 - Clothing

Clothing is a special case. Some new authors describe the clothes of the characters when they’re describing the character every time the reader sees them. So, I wanna help you with this.

Clothing can be a way to show something about your character—a character with a well-ironed business suit is gonna be different from a character with tight jeans and baggy t-shirt. Therefore, only use clothing to tell something unique about the character.

Refrain from describing the clothing of characters that dress like most others. Like, in a school, it’s obvious that all characters are wearing school uniforms. Also, a normal teenage boy may wear t-shirts and denim jeans. If your character is this, no need to describe their clothing—anything the reader would be imagining is fine.

Refrain from describing the clothing of one-dimensional side-characters—there’s a high chance you’ve not really created them well enough that they have clothing that differs from the expectations of the readers. We all know what waiters wear, or what a college guy who was just passing by in the scene would be wearing.

You may describe the clothing of the important character in the story, but only in the first appearance. After that, describe their clothes only if the clothes seem really, really different from the first time. And stop describing their clothes if you’ve set your character well enough in the story that your readers know what to expect from them in normal circumstances—then, describe clothes only when they’re really, really different from their usual forms of clothing.

***

#06 - Conclusion

I think there was so much I had to say in this article, but I didn’t do a good job. However, I said all that I wanted to say. I hope you guys liked the article and it helps you in one way or the other.

And please subscribe if you want more articles like this straight in your inbox!

[mywritersmind]

HIDE YOUR NAME NOT YOUR TEAM - LN4

summary : In which a pretty red head catches Lando’s eye one night in mexico, a rude remark and laughable flirting stays on both of their minds. The last thing Lando expects is to see her again in the paddock, while he’s determined to figure her out, she’s determined to hide her name and why she constantly is spotted in orange.

listen up : panic attack, sexual comments, comedy!! lando norris x bosses!daughter.

word count : 5404

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I don’t usually go to these things. But Alexandra convinced me when she said I could borrow her dyson.

“I take it back.” I say as I get my drink, we’re sat at the bar, Charles already gone to find some drivers, “Let’s go back to the hotel! Girls night!” I beg her but she just shakes her head.

“You look too hot for that.” I sigh, I do look hot tonight. I’m in a black mini dress, sheer tights, and knee high boots that are the same shade of burgundy red as my hair.

Just as she says that, Rebecca, Carlos’ girlfriend, comes up to us, “Y/n! You never come out with us!” She hugs me and I smile. I never do but I do like hanging with my girls.

“I had to drag her here!” Alex sips her drink as Rebecca laughs. We’re in Mexico for the grand prix, something I also rarely find myself at.

“Don’t make that face! You deserve a day off.” I sigh, knowing they’re right.

“Alright.” I down the rest of my drink, coughing and turning to the bartender, “Three shots please! Surprise us!”

The girls squeal and as soon as I sit back down, I know it’s gonna be a good night.

I’m multiple drinks in, dancing with my friends, when Carlos and Charles sweep my friends away like it’s nothing.

I scoff, going to walk off the dance floor before a man stops me, “Wanna dance?” I almost laugh when I see who it is. I can tell he sees me thinking about it, “I promise I don’t bite.”

⋆༺

LANDO NORRIS

I noticed her when she was dancing with some guy who was out of his mind wasted. I saw her hair first, a dark cherry red with messy waves.

I don’t know if she’s here with friends but I do know that I want to know more.

She’s staring at me like i’ve just asked her to do a backflip, “Uh… no.” She shakes her head and walks straight past me.

What the fuck?

I haven’t had a girl reject me in a long time, but it’s not unheard of. Still, something about her is telling me to not give up.

“Wait! I’ll buy you a drink!” I hurry after her, she’s flipping her hair over her shoulder and eyeing me, “Please?”

“Please?” She laughs, “You can’t find any other girl besides me?” She hops up onto a bar stool and I lean against the counter, staying close.

“Maybe I don’t want to.” She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m Lando.”

“Yeah, I know.” This surprises me.

“Oh! Well then you know I'm not a creep, so you’ll let me buy you a drink?” She crosses her arms, she seems to be assessing me.

“Fine.” I get her a dirty martini and water for myself. “Thank you.”

“I’ll always be down to buy a pretty girl a drink.” I smile as she sips her drink, “I never caught your name-”

“Mhm…” She looks around the club, obviously not interested in what I have to say.

“Okay, Red.” She doesn’t even flinch at the nickname, “Why are you in Mexico?”

She hums, “Family.” she lets out a long breath.

I frown at her lack of interest, “That’s fun. I’m racing here this weekend.” She doesn’t respond, “Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I promise I'm not like whatever shit magazine you read.”

She looks at me after that and I immediately know I fucked up. Except instead of throwing her drink on me, she just laughs, “God, you’re an asshole.” And with that, she walks away.

⋆༺

YOU

Lando Norris hitting on me was not something I expected from that night.

But it immediately became worse once I remembered why I was in Mexico.

“Sweetheart!” My dad hugs me tight. Zak Brown is a lot of things but a shit dad isn’t one of them. He’s in all orange, contrasting my white dress. I smile as he pulls back, “I’m so happy you’re here!”

I have gone to four grand prix’s in my life. It seems a bit odd for someone who’s father is there almost every weekend, but we had a deal. I was a sort of trouble child, more in my teens when I wanted more freedom. I took some years off of school but I realized what I was wasting and got right back into college.

My dad said I couldn’t come to a grand prix until I finished school. I was annoyed at first, who wouldn’t want to spend their weekends partying with rich people and flying on private jets? But I sort of fell in love with my studies in fashion and had no time anyway.

But I recently graduated and am back in my papaya fathers reach.

“How are you doing? Excited to be back?” I nod as I walk up the paddock with him.

“Very! I’ve missed everything, especially my friends.” He smiles and I’m happy I can make him do that in public.

“I’m so proud. Oh!” I see my nightmare in neon and freeze, “Come meet one of our drivers, he’s a bit like you, I think.” My dad looks back at my frozen position and frowns.

“I forgot I have to grab food with Lily! New friend duties, right! Remember how happy you are that i’m making friends!? Bye!” I turn around and run.

I end up meeting up with Lily because as soon as I heard myself say it, I suddenly really wanted to see her. Lily isn’t new to the paddock, but I’ve only met her a couple times. We follow each other on instagram and have DM’d multiple times.

After our taco and gossip session, practice started and I know I should be watching, but I want to explore more. So instead, I walk around the Paddock alone.

I seriously missed this environment. One of my favorite memories from when I was a kid was my dad walking me around the paddock. I love the hustle and bustle of the paparazzi, fans, and drivers.

I also love the quiet in the paddock while the cars are on track. I make it back inside, finally finding a bathroom and after fixing my hair and makeup, I wander more halls.

I don’t want to admit I'm lost, but I definitely am. I’m about to call Lily and Rebecca but realize I am a strong independent woman! That and I'm a tad embarrassed.

I turn yet another corner and see the worst person for this situation. I realize he hasn’t seen me yet but when I go to turn he eyes me, “Red?” He looks genuinely shocked and I'm even more shocked that he remembers me!

I laugh awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He’s in his race suit, sweaty, and way too good looking with it unzipped. He runs his hand through his curls, has he always been this attractive?

Sorry! Dickhead. I don’t like this man. He’s an asshole.

“What the fuck?” Is all he can say.

“Hey!” I smile, “Thanks for buying me that drink the other night…” When I left him at the bar, I did not think about the whole MY FATHER IS HIS BOSS thing.

“What are you doing here?” I hide my paddock pass behind my back, “Seriously. You’re not some stalker are you?”

I roll my eyes, “No but I am lost.” I can’t ask him to point me to the Mclaren garage because then he’ll ask why so I go for the next best thing, “I’m looking for the ferrari garage!” I need to text Alex right now.

“I’m still confused- you said you were in town for family.” Fuck my life.

“Yeah! Well… Alex is like family to me! And she invited me. Alex as in-“

“Charles’ girlfriend. Yeah I know.” He moves his water bottle from one hand to the other, stepping closer. “But, why would I help you if you think I'm an asshole?”

Okay. Good point.

“Because you think I'm pretty?” I smile and I can tell he’s biting back a laugh. “And because you were being pretty cocky!”

He nods, “Fair enough. Come with me.” I didn’t expect him to give in so easily.

“Hey, why were you in here anyways?” He shrugs and keeps walking for a bit before answering.

“Needed a breather.”

I nod, walking with him in silence, he opens the door for me and the sun hits up straight on. “So… how's the whole driving thing going?”

He glances at me, “It's alright. Quali tomorrow.”

“Good luck. Although I kinda hope you don’t get first.” He raises a brow. “I’m a big Piastri fan.”

He looks genuinely hurt, “I didn’t even think you watched.”

I frown, “Why wouldn’t I? I mean, I'm here.”

“Yeah but you… nevermind.”

I stop, turning to him, “You have to tell me now!”

He grins, looking away and continuing to walk, “You just didn’t have a reaction when I hit on you.” I scoff, “I know, I know! Dickish.”

I can’t help but laugh, “Honestly… fair enough. If I looked like you with the whole famous rich thing. I’d be pulling left and right.”

He eyes me, “So you think i’m attractive.” My face drops and I look ahead, “Hey it’s okay we already know I think you’re hot!” God if my dad ever heard this…

“Just shut up.” He does.

Until he doesn’t, “You really a big Oscar fan?”

I’m happy that I got under his skin with that one, “What if I said I liked Verstappen more?”

“I’d leave your lost ass right here.” Lando says it so serious that all I can do is laugh. He looks proud after I look at him again. “Seriously though.”

“Ferrari girl through and through.” He rolls those gorgeous green eyes of his, “McLaren might be second best though. Plus that Colapinto kid…”

He rolls his eyes, “You can’t like Franco more than me.”

“What, you jealous?” He points to turn and when we do, I see the garages in view.

“Gonna give me your name yet? Or am I sticking to Red?”

I pull his same move and avoid the question, “Thanks for showing me back.”

“Is it bad I like it when you’re mean to me?” I groan and walk away, “Bye, Red!”

“Later, Norris.”

⋆༺

“He doesn’t know who you are!?” Lily and Alexandra scream at the same time, we’re sitting in my hotel room when I called an emergency girls meeting. Except Rebecca is with Carlos to celebrate a little after his pole.

I cover my face with my hands, “But why does it matter!?”

“He’s obviously is hot for you.” Alex shrugs as Lily laughs, rolling onto her back.

“Babe, No wonder he’s so interested in you! I mean- besides the fact that you’re hilarious and drop dead gorgeous- he definitely is intrigued.”

I shake my head, “More like plotting to get me back for calling him an asshole.”

“Wait! You called him an asshole!?” Lily laughs even harder, “I love you!”

“Genuine question though… why don’t you go for it?” I stare at Alex as if she has two heads.

“Go for it!? Lando Norris?” She nods, “No way! Besides the fact that my dad is his boss, he’s way too cocky, and he doesn’t even know my name, I still wouldn’t go for him.”

“That’s kinda part of the appeal.” Alex shrugs, “What!? He knows nothing about you but thinks your hot! Seems like enough to me.”

We end up crying laughing, the conversation straying from Lando and to all the on track drama.

⋆༺

I’ve been avoiding the McLaren garage like the plague. I was there this morning but stayed on Oscar’s side. After meeting him, falling in love with him (platonically of course), and seeing that Lando was completely locked into Qualifying, I took my first breath of calmness.

The boys went out and I popped over to talk to Pato. Quali was over way quicker than I expected, After Oscar’s P17 a weird energy was in the garage and as soon as I saw Lando’s car, I was out of there.

What game am I even playing? Maybe it’s a little hot that he doesn’t know who I am… I don’t know why. Plenty of people have bugged me because of who my dad is, but Lando doesn’t need extra grand prix tickets or me to spot him money.

I find myself in a large room, it’s filled with chairs and a couch facing them. I grin immediately, how the hell is this just open?

I obviously am going to take my chance and pretend to be a talented man! The couch is not as comfortable as I expected and I almost fucking jump off of it when someone walks in.

He's breathing heavily and I recognize something’s wrong immediately. He’s pulling off the velcro of his race suit, unzipping it and pacing. “Lando.”

His head shoots up immediately, just staring at me, “Fuck Red, why are you everywhere?” His breath is labored and shaky.

I stand slowly as he slides down the wall, pulling his knees to his chest and leaning his head back. I’m confused because he seemed fine twenty minutes ago. P3 was not bad especially for where they are right now.

I start to say something but he just shakes his head, “I can’t.” He points to his throat and I realize he can’t breathe.

“I like your hair.” I say quickly, he looks so shocked when he looks up at me, “You look really good with it.” He keeps breathing heavily.

“Huh?”

“Although, you should ditch that fuck ass hat.” He tries to laugh but he’s still struggling. I slowly sit in front of him, “Seriously, who told you to wear that?”

“I- I have to.”

I roll my eyes but my hands are shaking. I’m not a stranger to a panic attack and seeing it happen to someone in front of me is a little scary, “Free will? I mean we all know you have it with the amount of times you whip out your middle finger.”

He laughs again, breathy, but his breathing seems to be getting slower.

“You definitely have free will.” he chokes out, “Saw you- today. Flirting with Lewis.” He got me there.

“Okay! Have you seen him? Who wouldn’t!?”

He shakes his head, “He’s way older.”

“Some people might find that hot.” He side eyes me, “Don’t worry I'm still into guys my own age.”

He’s smiling, nodding. We stay silent for a moment, his head resting against his knees as he catches his breath. He finally slides his legs out in front of him and I scoot next to him.

I tap my neck to ask for permission and he understands immediately, nodding. My hand slips to his neck, feeling his pulse.

“I used to have panic attacks a lot last year.” I explain as I feel his heart underneath my touch. He doesn’t say anything, just looking into my eyes. I swallow, “Your heart is going crazy.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, “Yeah I don’t think that’s because of the panic attack.”

I give him a look, “Seriously? Even in distress you’re a flirt.”

He licks his lips, “You’re good at calming people.”

“All I did was talk, not that hard.” My hand is still on his neck. “Are you okay?”

He swallows, looking away just as I drop my hand back to my side, “Mhm. Thank you.” His hand goes to mine as if it’s nothing. I’m shaking. He rests his head against the wall, closing his eyes, and squeezing my hand. “I think I owe you another drink, Red.”

⋆༺

It’s not until after more press and the conference is over, when Lando finds me again.

“Let me buy you dinner.” I raise a brow, “Come on, as a thank you.”

“You already said thank you.” I sip my water as he frowns. He’s out of his race suit and into jeans and a McLaren shirt.

“Just let me take you out.”

“Are you feeling okay?” I reach up and press the back of my hand to his forehead, “Oh no! Seems like you have a case of aiming high.” He mocks me as I cross my arms.

“Red, If you’re that high, I'll take my McLaren rocket ship and meet you.” I laugh at his words.

“A bit late on the whole rocket ship thing.” He sighs.

“We’ll have fun. Please. Why not?” He goes through five emotions in two seconds.

“You’re sinister, evil, and orange.” My eyes stray who who’s also orange and walking quickly up to us, “Shit.” I don’t mean to say it out loud.

Lando turns around quickly, then back to me, “Don’t tell me you’re scared of Zak. I’ll introduce you-”

“No! I’m not! I gotta go!”

“Wha- Red!” I walk away so fast that I don’t see the man rounding the corner.

“Y/n?” Oscar looks at me confused, “Alright?”

“Hi!” I quickly move past him but he follows.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lando is trying to introduce me to Zak Brown.” I say simply as we turn another corner and Oscar frowns.

“Zak Brown as in your dad Zak Brown?” I look at him, nodding. Then he laughs, “He doesn’t know who you are?”

“Nope. Sort of a long story but I'm in too deep now.” I cross my arms and he starts laughing harder.

“I’m completely here for this- Just one question though… how the fuck does he not know who you are? You’ve been in the garage.”

“He’s blind and I'm a mastermind?” I shrug and of course, Lando finds us.

“Red! No!” He groans when he sees Oscar, “Osc, Don’t convert her into a you fan i’m trying so hard to get her to like me!” Oscar laughs harder, covering his mouth and looking at me.

“I don’t need to be converted! I’m already an Oscar fan!” Lando frowns as I shake my head.

“Don’t worry mate, everyone’s an Oscar fan.” He pats Lando on the shoulder before leaving. “See ya…” I can tell he’s about to say my name but he stops himself.

Lando narrows his eyes at me, “He knows your name?” I bite my lip and walk away. “Hey wait! Any thoughts about tonight?”

I glance back at him, “Don’t you have a race to be preparing for?”

He smirks, catching up to me, “Wanna know my pre race ritual?” I push him away from me, “I’ll give you a hint.” He winks and my stomach does a weird flip.

“You’re never gonna stop, are you?” I place my hands on my hips, looking up at the man.

“Tell me to, and I will.” I stay quiet, his eyes meeting mine and the corner of his lip quirking up. Someone calls his name but his eyes stay on me, smiling. He leans down and taps his knuckles against his hand, “Bye, Red.”

⋆༺

Although Lando has been running around my head, I still have other duties besides being flirted with. I’m at dinner with my dad, it’s been a while since it’s been just the two of us. And I will say, I missed it.

He’s busy and obviously distracted but i’m grateful for any time I get with him. We’re in the Paddock but everybody is gone except for a few engineers and workers.

“Tell me about your weekend! I haven’t seen you much in the garage.” He takes a bite out of his salad, looking down at his texts.

“I’ve been around.” I shrug, drinking my lemonade, “It’s good to be back. But I have been sneaking off with my friends a bit…”

He smiles, “I’m glad. Even if you aren’t cheering us on.” I laugh, “You will be watching from the garage tomorrow, though.”

I nod, “Yes yes, I know.”

We get into a conversation about the issues with my apartment and how he thinks I should move back home. I get the feeling that he’s worried about tomorrow and suddenly wonder if he’s like this every weekend.

My dad gets a call which ends our dinner early, “I gotta grab my bag then I'll head to the hotel.” I kiss him on the cheek and make my way to the garage.

There’s a few people hanging back, some looking at screens and someone laying on the floor, looking at Lando’s back wing.

I grab my purse, rummaging around in it to make sure my phone is there. “You sure you’re not stalking me, Red?” That damn voice makes me jump.

He's sitting on the floor next to his own car, his arms and black shirt dirty. Was he… fixing his car?

I raise a brow, “What are you doing?” He takes the rag next to him and wipes off his hands, standing up.

“What are you doing?”

I cross my arms, “Stealing information for ferrari.” He smirks, shaking his head and walking past me to grab his water.

“Instead of having dinner with me? You need to sort your priorities out.”

I flip my hair over my shoulder, “Do you work on your own car often?”

“I can’t do much but I do like to see how it looks.” He shrugs, leaning against the wall and glancing at the people working, “You seriously not gonna tell me who you know at McLaren? You obviously have an in.”

He waves to the people who are packing up and walking out. We are now alone.

I hum, knowing there’s no chance I'm about to tell him who my ‘in’ is. He laughs a bit, “Alright, stay mysterious. Wanna sit in it?” I almost think I didn’t hear him correctly.

“What?” He nods, standing and walking over to his car, “Come on, don’t tell me you’ve already driven one or something.”

I smile, shaking my head and walking towards him, “No. I used to kart but I’m actually shit at it.” He laughs, beckoning me closer. “Won’t you get in trouble for this?”

He brings his finger to his lips, shushing me as I stand in front of him, “Okay put your foot here,” he points, “And hold onto this.” He points again and I do as I'm told.

I hate to admit it, but I am quite clumsy. When I slip a bit, his hands go to catch me instantly. Thank you driver reaction practice.

He lifts me down into the seat, his hands regretfully leaving me. I look up at him, “For once, you look tall.” His smile drops, leaning over me.

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffs and starts pointing at things. I try to listen but his hand is right in front of my face and I’m genuinely surprised how much I don’t know.

“You’re so far down.” I hum, holding my hands out as if I'm driving, “My back already hurts.” He smiles and kneels next to me.

“You look good in here. Seems like a complete hazard though, even if the car isn’t on.” I tilt my head up to look at him. A curl is falling perfectly in his face. “I didn’t wear the hat as much today, what’d you think?”

I smile at the fact that he listened to my bullshit, “How are you, by the way?”

He nods, avoiding my eyes and messing around with something on the car, “Fine.”

“So the whole panic attack thing was just for fun?” He eyes me, biting his lip.

“Thank you again, It was kinda embarrassing but you made me feel better.” I chew the inside of my cheek, smiling softly at his expression. He looks tired, but a big step up from earlier.

I’ve seen Lando a million times. He’s on posters, all over my feed, in my dads photo dumps, billboards, ads… But none of that can compare to the real thing.

He shoots up so fast that I’m about to laugh and ask what he’s doing, but he starts talking to someone. “Lando!” It’s my dad. Alarm bells ring in my ears as my hand goes over my mouth. Okay. He can’t see me, I know that at least. “I thought you’d already left!”

Lando laughs awkwardly, I think he’s standing in front of the car now. “Uh! Wanted to make sure everything’s good with the car. Guess I lost track of time.”

I hear my dad laugh, rummaging around, “Get some sleep, kid.” I think we’re in the clear until I hear sneakers squeaking, “You haven’t seen a girl come in here, have you?”

My heart rate skyrockets as Lando clears his throat, “Nope. But I've been pretty distracted with the car.”

“Alright well… I have someone to introduce you to tomorrow! Get some rest and drink water!” The door shuts and I hear Lando sigh heavily.

I stand up and messily get out of the car, “I thought for sure I was dead!” Lando says, running a hand through his hair and shivering, “Sorry about that.”

“No worries! I don’t want to get you in trouble though so I should go…” He nods, looking a bit disappointed.

“Want me to walk you out?” I can’t help but smile softly at the soft way he says it.

“I know my way, Thanks though.” I grab my bag, thanking god my dad didn’t see it before, “Rest up.” I mock my dad as Lando chuckles.

“With you on my mind, that’ll be difficult.” I pretend like my cheeks aren’t on fire and open the door.

“Dream about me, then.”

⋆༺

The party environment of the Mexican Grand Prix is all I needed today. I’m in a white dress with marigolds embroidered at the bottom, a flower in my hand from one of the people who are painted.

I laugh with Rebecca and Alex as we walk through the paddock, their boyfriends already getting ready for the drivers parade.

I haven’t told them about last night. I mean, what is there to tell? I swipe my lipgloss on, checking my makeup in the reflection of Rebecca’s glasses.

“Is Carlos nervous for today?” I ask her as she smiles at his name.

“I think so, but I’m really hopeful for a good result.” we continue walking, “Hopefully I don’t jinx it.”

“Hey, Y/n.” Alex nudges me, “Someone just arrived.” She winks as we all turn to look at the Paddock entrance behind us.

Lando Norris.

He’s wearing a Quadrant crewneck and a big smile. He signs something for a tiny fan and hurry’s past the photographers.

He almost walks past us, but he does a double take. He looks happy, I’m glad. “Rebecca, Alex.” He doesn’t stop walking as he politely greets them. His eyes meet mine and his expression changes, “Hey, Red.”

I smile softly before he turns and practically runs away, “Yup! He’s in love.”

I swat Rebecca’s arm as she laughs, “Goodbye!”

“No!” Alex laughs, “Come get coffee!”

I shake my head, “I told Pato I would grab breakfast with him, I’ll see you later!”

I smile at the two of them as they wave and we split up, me going to McLaren and them to Ferrari.

⋆༺

Breakfast is good, we watch the drivers go around and laugh at George who is shivering like a leaf. I say goodbye to him as soon as the drivers parade ends.

I need to see my dad before the craziness begins. “Dad!” I smile as he sits on the pit wall.

“Sweetie!” He smiles and waves me over, letting me sit with him.

“Ready for today?” I ask as he looks over data.

He nods, “Definitely!” He crosses his fingers and I smile, looking over the data with him. He knows I have no clue what we’re looking at so he explains it to me.

I lean in to look at the tiny words when my dad gets distracted, “Oh!” I hear him say but i’m trying to decipher this code still, “I have someone for you to meet!” I’ve met a million different people this week so I smile and stick out my hand like usual, “Lando! This is my daughter Y/n.”

I stare at him. His smile drops for a second, then a look of panic washes over him before he takes a breath and shakes my hand.

“Nice to meet you.” I almost whisper it. He’s looking at me and I feel like I'm about to get swallowed whole.

His face contorts again, he looks like he’s finally cracked me, “Pleasure” My dad looks away and Lando takes that second to narrow his eyes, a smirk still on his face.

I drop his hand as my dad looks at us again, “I think Y/n has been avoiding the garage! I would have introduced you days ago!”

Lando’s jaw ticks, “Not a McLaren girl?”

I can’t help but smile, “Ferrari through and through.”

My dad shakes his head, “Don’t mind her odd preferences…” he’s about to say something else but gets pulled away by someone in orange.

Lando just looks at me, my cheeks hot as he examines me. I expect him to be mad, but he just smiles, “Y/n, huh?” I nod shyly, “It’s pretty. It fits you.”

“Okay! Lan you gotta go!” My dad claps a hand on his shoulder, dragging him away.

“Good luck!” I say quickly as he shoots me a devious look. I take a breath I didn’t know I was holding in, and watch him leave.

⋆༺

The race has me on the edge of my seat for all 71 laps. I accidentally gasp way too loud at Lando being pushed off track and maybe start clapping when it’s announced that Max got two penalties.

The whole time I have a feeling that Lando will be on that podium, but definitely not in third.

My manifestation comes true when Charles goes off track and Lando zooms by.

Ten laps to go and I don’t think I've taken a deep breath in twenty. But the moment Lando passes the finish line, the garage claps and I sigh in relief.

I hug my dad but I watch the podium ceremony from the side, smiling as the boys get sprayed with champagne while laughing.

I see Rebecca with tears in her eyes and when I look back to the podium, I see Lando looking at me. He's grinning, holding his bottle of champagne and pouring it into his mouth before winking at me.

If he’s still acting like this after he found out my dad is his boss, then I am unexplainably screwed. And I couldn’t be happier about it.

After the podium, I walk back to the garage, but Lando catches me first, pulling me into a hidden area. He’s soaked in champagne and grinning like an idiot, “Have fun out there?” I ask, crossing my arms.

He nods, “Think i’m cool yet?”

“A bit… maybe when I watch you win.” His smile grows, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Go out with me.” I laugh at his words, “For real this time! Y/n.” He says my name like a prayer and I never want it to stop.

“I guess I sort of owe you.”

He nods enthusiastically, “Y/n Brown. What a name… I knew you had an in!”

I shake my head, “I’m sorry. But it was fun messing with you.”

He sighs in defeat, “I feel much better that I know who you are. Although I almost passed out when the words ‘daughter’ left Zak’s mouth!” I laugh with him, champagne dripping down his curls still.

“You did really well today.”

He bites his lip, “Think of how much better I'll do knowing you’re screaming my name in the garage.” I swat his arm but he swerves and plants a kiss on my cheek.

My jaw drops as he pulls back, “I’ll pick you up tonight!” he starts walking away, backwards, “I’ll text you!”

“You don’t even have my number!” I yell after him but he just winks and blows me a kiss. Just as I turn back around and roll my eyes, I see my dad in front of me, arms crossed as my eyes go wide.

He sighs, looking like he already has a headache, “What the hell did I miss?”

[baeshijima]

— within uncertainty

sunday reflects on his limited time thus far on the express, only to find himself distracted by a face he has unknowingly become fond of.

CONTAINS : 1.2k wc, gn!reader, astral express member!sunday, fluff

A/N : chat have we seen the lc and gameplay leaks…? throwing up.

When Sunday first arrived on the Astral Express, a miniature gold and crimson ticket attached to his apparel, he wasn’t sure what to expect.

A new start; that much he was sure of. But with these people who instilled a newfound hope and courage to face the future, there was no shadow of a doubt within his heart and soul that he would encounter the unexpected more times than he can keep track of.

Sure enough, the unexpected came in many ways.

For one, March 7th’s uncanny ability to look at the bright side of things appeared so natural to her, so easy and simple. In recent times, he has found himself thinking about situations in a more positive light, no doubt a side effect of having spent time with her bubbly self.

He discovered Dan Heng’s aloof demeanour barely concealed his great care and affection for the crew— the Astral Express family. Even with what seems to be passive quips and dead-eyed stares, Sunday has begun to note the differentiations in his tone and body language, and all the subtleties he only shows with them.

He discovered the Trailblazer was every bit of a jokester as they are courageous, often finding himself staring blankly at some of their… seamlessly timed quips, to put it lightly. Even so, he’s oftentimes caught himself mid-admiration when they take charge in what they believe is right, wondering if he, too, could be like them in that aspect.

He found that Welt, while still retaining the righteous and strong spirit he displayed while in penacony, had a rather unprecedented charm. Sitting down for hours on end listening to the elder ramble passionately about animating, the arts, and endless theories about this universe wasn’t something he had ever planned for, but his heart warmed all the same at the burst of energy.

He came to realise the Express’ Navigator, Himeko, was certainly a… character. Brave, wise and humble were what he would use to describe her, even more so after her warmly welcoming him into the family. However, Sunday realised he could do without that… concoction she dubs a coffee.

He also never realised such a creature existed until he met Pom-Pom, much less one being a sentient conductor. Their nags are backed with overflowing affection for the members of the Express, often displayed through the meticulous care taken in the tailored meals and rooms and experience. There is so much love of the Astral Express, and Sunday wouldn’t be surprised if he were told most of it came from the Conductor.

(Though he does recall being warned by Dan Heng in particular to not anger the Conductor, an experience he is both curious about but also content in not knowing what exactly would transpire.)

And then there is you.

Sunday only caught a glimpse of you during the final moments of the conflict, much like with Himeko, so he didn’t have too much to go off of other than the fact you, just as it seemed to come with being a part of the Astral Express, were brave and fought for what you believed in.

(With you in particular, he found himself unable to forget your gaze — how it held a sparkling resolution and commanded his full attention, completely and utterly drawn in.)

Of course, that’s not to say you don’t embody those aspects now that he’s gotten to know you. Rather, you are so much more than what he could have ever imagined.

“Wow… they’re way softer than they look!”

…In more ways than one.

Sunday doesn’t really know how this situation came to be. He was merely idling around the Express in search of something to pass the time until you took note of his predicament, swooping in like the graceful saviour you are (self-proclaimed by you).

Somehow, in some way, that brought you both to his room.

It’s times like these where Sunday wholeheartedly believes the most forward member of the Astral Express isn’t that racoon-like Trailblazer, but rather you instead.

Seriously. How are you not embarrassed by this… this compromising position you’re both in?! He can practically feel the radius in which the heat from his face permeates!

“Do you, like, have a care routine for them or something?” you ask while gently thumbing individual feathers, because obviously this is only affecting him and him alone. “I refuse to believe your wings are like this naturally.”

He knows he gave you permission to touch them, but it doesn’t change the fact his wings are still sensitive. Aeon knows what you would do with that information; well, assuming you haven’t already picked up on his reactions towards your… ministrations.

“I do have a routine. I go to great lengths pruning and trimming my feathers. More than that…” he trails off, opting to ignore your mumbled comment of “Wow… you’re just like a bird then…”. He coughs, averting his eyes from your intensely gentle gaze, raising a fist to cover his lips. “Are you this forward with everyone?”

You blink. Once, twice, thrice. Somehow, the action makes Sunday fluster even further.

A hum leaves you as your lips purse and your head tilts in thought. “Well, I wouldn’t say everyone, exactly. Just those I consider to be very close to me. Oh,” you begin, as though realising something, “does it bother you? I’m so sorry!”

No— wait— why are you apologising?

“I didn’t realise I was making you uncomfortable! Oh gosh, I did it again…!”

You make a move to scramble away from him. Is it your frantic and unfocused eyes, or perhaps this uncharacteristic side of your usual confident and unabashed self which makes his heart lurch?

“I’m so, so sorry! I’ll keep my distance from now on and—!”

He acts before he can think.

“No!”

There’s a surge of panic which shoots into him. It makes itself known in the raw strain of his voice, in the shaky wide-eyed stare at the thought of you leaving, in the trembling grip he has your arm in.

Really, Sunday doesn’t know what he’s panicking about. He just knows a part of himself would never forgive him for unintentionally pushing you away like this.

A gasp escapes him after a few tense seconds which felt much more like an eternity. With haste, Sunday tears his hand away from your arm. Despite that, he remains in close proximity to you, mustering the courage to look at you once more.

“I… I mean, no, you’re not making me uncomfortable.” Sunday prays you didn’t hear the stammer in his words. And, if you did, then he hopes you don’t bring it up. “If I were feeling as such, I would have told you outright.”

The silence is absolutely suffocating. Even so, Sunday doesn’t dare look away from your stunned expression, not even when he’s almost positive his face is about to melt off from the sheer heat radiating from him.

“Oh.” You blink, expression falling into that of neutrality. A nod of understanding is your next action; understanding of what? Sunday has no clue — he’s not sure he even wants to know. “So you’re that type, huh. I see now.”

Nevermind. Maybe he does.

“…What does that mean? Wait— [Name], come back here! Explain what ‘that type’ means! Are you listening?!”

Suffice to say, Sunday never received a verbal response from you. Only your cheeky grin before you left and a plethora of butterflies fluttering amok within his stomach are all that remains.

Yeah. Sunday didn’t know what to expect when joining the Astral Express; in fact, he still doesn’t know what to expect. Despite being thrown into the unknown, he finds himself thinking this situation to not be so bad after all.

if you enjoyed this, reblogs and/or comments are greatly appreciated <33

[readwritealldayallnight]

Love is a Verb

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 3k words

warnings/tags: fluff, allusions to smut, Simon gets in his feelings™️

It was the first time that you dropped a plate stacked high with heart-shaped pancakes in front of him, that you realized just how much Simon had been starved for love in his life.

“What’s this?” He asks, eyebrows scrunching in confusion, staring down at his plate as though it were a bomb in need of defusing.

“Breakfast? You’d mentioned pancakes the other day and I’ve been craving ‘em since.” You shrug, walking back towards the stovetop where the next batch are waiting to be flipped over.

“They’re- you’ve never-” You glance back over your shoulder at him, watching as he appears to struggle to find the words for what he means to say. He looks almost out of place, his large, hulking frame sitting at a breakfast table with flowers adorning it (he’s the one that brought you that bouquet, of course), his bed head on full display. “You’ve never made ‘em like this before.”

“What, like hearts?” You giggle, scooping up the last of the breakfast onto a plate, making your way back to the table, seeing Simon give you a nod in confirmation. “I just wanted spread some love to my love. Is that alright?”

Setting your plate down next to his, you go to take a seat before you feel two muscular arms wrapping around your middle, pulling you backwards and seating you onto his strong lap.

“‘Course s’alright.” He mumbles into your hair, pressing a kiss wherever his lips may land on you. From those two words alone, you can tell his throat is getting scratchy, and you almost think you hear the slightest sniffle coming from him. You can’t help the surprised blush that creeps through you. You weren’t expecting him to react this way. You’re willing to bet he also wasn’t expecting to react this way.

Knowing that communicating, as well as understanding, his feelings isn’t something that always comes with ease for Simon, you decide to give him a moment, not wanting to put him on the spot. You spread some maple syrup across your stack, tilting it in the direction of his plate and receiving a grunt of confirmation before you drizzle some onto his as well. Taking your cutlery in hand, enjoy your breakfast in quiet bliss, taking turns feeding bites to yourself and your shadow behind you, always receiving a loving squeeze to your thigh after each piece you slip between his lips.

“Mum never made anythin’ like this.” His revelation arrives just as your chewing on your last bite, stomachs content, hearts even more full. You can count on one hand the amount of times Simon has brought up his family to you. You’re aware of the circumstances, and while you don’t know every detail (nor do you need to), he has over time opened up to you about what happened. “Not ‘cause she didn’t love us. I think she would’ve if she-” he clears his throat, and you readjust yourself in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your head against his shoulders, rubbing reassuring circles into the muscles your hands come across.

You don’t want to overwhelm him by looking at him as he opens himself up to you, but you want to reassure him that you’re listening, you’re here with him. He can tell you as much or as little as he wants to, and you’ll listen.

“Beth did though. Once or twice.” He adds, resting his chin atop your head, running a hand through your hair. “I mean, I’m sure she did it more than that but, I saw her do it, once or twice. For Joseph.” Your grip around him tightens ever so gently at the mention of his late sister-in-law and nephew. You’ve never seen a picture of the boy, but you can just picture him, a small little blond head of hair, maybe with eyes like his, running around, keeping his young parents busy. Knowing the fate his family endured, a shiver runs through you, but you don’t let it overcloud the moment that Simon is sharing with you. Certainly not when it appears he’s thinking of them fondly right now, reflecting on his past with a happy lens.

“I’m sure he must’ve loved it.” You whisper into the skin of his neck, sending goose bumps sprawling across the flesh.

“He did. Tommy too.” At that he gives a slight chuckle, shaking the two of you. “Even when we were younger, he could always eat us out of house and home. Was like you couldn’t get anything to stick to his bones, either, that kid. More than half the time I wound up shop liftin’ it was to feed his skinny arse.” You sit there together for a moment, holding one another, basking in the newest glimpse of his past that Simon has just offered you.

“They would’ve loved you.” He mumbles into your hair, emotion evident in his voice, his grip on you tightening desperately, as though you two might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold you close enough. “Think you would’a liked em as well.” At that you pull away from his shoulder, slipping your hands to cradle each side of his face, bringing his forehead to meet yours.

“They loved you, Si. Of course I would love them too.” You whisper against his lips, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to each corner of his mouth, the top of his nose, each closed eyelid, before returning to his mouth.

It’s the next week when you decide to finally tackle the last of the moving boxes. You and Simon finally moved in together a few months ago now, and Simon seems to have placed more priority on ‘christening every room’ (also known as fucking you senseless over each and every available surface in the place) over unpacking.

The handful of boxes that are left are more of the miscellaneous, don’t really have anywhere to put them, sort of items that you can’t exactly part with but don’t have any real use for. Most of it being your stuff. His time in the military has left him without a need for many material items, and so you’re surprised to find a smaller box shoved to the back of the pile labeled as ‘Simon’.

Upon opening it, you find it contains a variety of what appears to be memorabilia he’s collected throughout his time in the military, small souvenirs from his travels, old folded up uniforms, and what not. But slipped between two folded shirts, you can feel something more sturdy. Carefully slipping it out of the box, you discover a frame containing a multitude of medals.

In spite of being in love with a Lieutenant, your knowledge of the military is still slim. You don’t recognize any of the medals shining up at you, but they are numerous, and you can tell they must be incredibly important, something he’s worked so hard to earn. Why is he keeping this tucked away?

“Hey Si!” You shout in hopes that he’s near enough to hear you.

“What are you up to now, mischief?” He asks, his tone playful as you hear his footsteps approaching. “Christ, we’ve still boxes left?”

“Acting as if you don’t purposefully walk around them every day.” You tease back, rolling your eyes at him. You stand up, turning to face him with the frame clutched to your chest. He takes you in and raises a brow in question as to your discovery. “What are these?”

He steps closer to glance at what you’re holding, shoulders tensing for a moment before releasing, letting out a deep sigh.

“Ah. S’nothin’.” He tries to reach to take it out of your grip, but you swing your arms behind your back, hiding it from his grasp.

“What do you mean nothing? Doesn’t look like nothing to me, mister award winner.”

“They’re not- I don’t-” he seems to struggle with his words, and it’s only then that you realize perhaps he doesn’t view these medals in the same way you do.

“Do you not like ‘em?” You ask, bringing the frame back around to your front, glancing down at them with a more quizzical eye this time.

“I just- I’m not always proud of how I earned em, love.” He attempts to explain, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Some I reckon’ I don’t mind but- all just seems unnecessary to me. I did my job, all there is to it.”

“Are these like, the kind they have big ceremonies for and then someone pins them on you in front of everyone?”

“Somethin’ like that.” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his large chest.

“And let me guess, you never attended any of them?”

“Don’t need all the fanfare, lovie.” He says, stepping forward and slowly slipping the frame from your grasp, tossing it back into the box you’d found it in. “All I need’s right here.”

“I just wish you’d let yourself be celebrated sometimes too, Si…”

“Well if it’s celebratin’ my birdie is wantin’, how’s bout we go celebrate with you on top of the washing machine eh? Don’t think I’ve made you cum up there yet.” You roll your eyes at his changing of the subjects, but can’t contain the giggle that erupts out of you when he swings you over his shoulder, apparently having decided the laundry room is exactly where you two are going now. “Just put a load in the machine, only right I put a load in here too.” He adds with a smack to your ass.

You’re worried you’re about to make an absolute fool out of yourself. No, you’re sure you’re about to look like an idiot. You know how much that man loves you, but even this might be exaggerating. Glancing at the clock above the stove however, you know it’s now or never. The candles around the room have been lit, the lights are dimmed, his favourite meal is cooking in the oven, soft music is playing from the record player, you’re wearing Simon’s favourite dress on you, and you even went as far as to spruce up your hair and makeup for this. In theory, everything is perfectly set up and in its place.

So why then, do you feel so mortified as you hear the sound of keys jingling the lock at the front door? Oh right, because it’s him you’ve set this all up for.

“Hi sweetheart,” he shouts to you as he walks in, too preoccupied with removing his boots and gear to look up yet. “Smells really good, what’s-” He cuts himself off upon walking into the kitchen, eyes landing on the unusual scene before him. You watch as his irises glance around the room, taking it all in, before landing on you. He’s still stood a few feet away from you, but you swear you can see his pupils dilate as his eyes roam up and down your figure.

“Hi.” You whisper meekly to him, wringing your hands nervously behind your back.

“Hi.” He answers back, taking an apprehensive step towards you. “What’s all this then?”

“First you have to go get dressed.” You inform him, jutting your chin in the direction of your shared bedroom. The small smile working its way onto his face helps boost your confidence, nerves slowly dissipating.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm. Even laid out your clothes for you, so you don’t have to think about it.”

“We goin’ somewhere?” He asks, beginning to undo his belt already. The movement catches your attention, likely his intention, and his smirk widens upon seeing you blush.

“Nope. We’re just celebrating at home.”

At this, he freezes his movements, belt halfway slipped out of his belt loops. His gaze scans your face, looking for anything he might have missed.

“Shit. Did I- did I forget something, baby? I did-”

“No, no no no!” You cut him off with a slight giggle, coming up to him now to lay your palms across his chest. “No, you’re okay Si. You didn’t forget anything, I’m just surprising you.” You reassure him, knowing that he only calls you baby when he’s worried he’s in trouble (or when he’s already in trouble, crouched between your thighs attempting to earn his way out of the dog house).

“You didn’t have to do any of this love.” He says, hands pulling the rest of his belt out, before he loops it around you, using it to pull you even closer to him.

“You don’t even know what I’ve done yet, mister. We’ll see if you still like me in a bit.” You stand up on your tippy toes, planting a kiss to his Adam’s apple, fingers reaching up to slowly lift the skull printed balaclava off his face. Your lips follow each inch of skin revealed as you finally slip the fabric off his visage, exposing the face of the man you love. “Now go get dressed before I change my mind.”

With a kiss to the forehead and a squeeze to the bum, your man releases you from his grasp to obediently follow your command, making his way towards the bedroom. Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you turn towards the cabinets, pulling out the secret you’d been hiding, the reason you’re doing any of this.

Minutes later, Simon is walking back into the room, dressed in form fitting black dress pants, and his large hands are finishing up the last few buttons of his white button-up shirt, the buttons appearing minuscule in his grasp. Your eyes land on his figure, and suddenly the smell of the food in the oven isn’t why your mouth is salivating so much. He glances up at you, eyes meeting and each of you fights off a small blush and a shy smile, as though you’re seeing your dates for the prom for the first time.

“You’re so handsome, Si.” You tell him, stepping closer to him.

“Think you’re just desensitized to me at this point, love.” He attempts to deflect, but you see the blush deepening across his pale cheeks. “Besides, I oughta be kissing the ground you walk on birdie, just look at ya…” He reaches a hand out towards yours, spinning you around gracefully, taking the time to admire you entirely.

The look in his eyes is glazing over, as he licks his lips, eyes unable to tear away from each inch of skin you have exposed. You’re equally become as hot and bothered, but you’ve got a goal tonight, and you want to see it through, for his sake.

“Before dinner, I uh- I wanted to do something for you.” You say, stepping back enough that your backside meets the edge of the counter top. Your hands feel behind you for what you’re looking for, hoping he can’t see what you’re attempting to conceal for just a little longer. “I don’t need to explain to you how hard you work, everywhere you go, you’re always taking care of others, Si. And you don’t get even nearly as much thanks as you should, and-”

“Love,” he tries to cut you off, stepping closer to you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Hold on, I really want to say this. To do this.” He nods at your interjection, accepting to hear you through. “Ever since I met you, you’ve changed my life Simon Riley, and I know I’m not the only person in the world who can say that. You are a good man, a hero to many, a leader to others. You’re just- you are good, Si. I promise you are.”

You can’t help the emotion beginning to seep into your voice now, but it’s important to you that he hears every word you have to tell him, and that he knows you mean them.

“I don’t know everything you’ve done, and I don’t want to. Your job terrifies me, and every time you walk out the door I’m scared you’re going to get hurt but- you’re so good at what you do, Simon. They couldn’t do it without you. You’re important, you’re needed.” At this, you slip the frame of medals out from behind your back, bringing them in front of you for Simon to see. “That’s what these are, at least in my eyes. They’re reminders that you’re meant to be doing what you’re doing, but most importantly, they also mean you made it back. You made it back to me.”

His warm hand reaches out to brush away a stray tear that’s spilled over your lashes, his palm staying to cup your cheek affectionately.

“You’re right, we don’t need all the fanfare, all we need is right here. But some occasions call for a celebration. That’s why I’m hoping you’ll let me put these on you? Just once, just this one time, I just- I need you to know how important you and your accomplishments are to me.”

Wordlessly, he nods to you, his own eyes appearing to be brimming with emotion. Sniffling, you turn the frame over, opening up the back before carefully slipping it off. Your fingers gingerly pick up the first medal they find, bringing it up to his firm chest. You look into his eyes once more, ensuring that this is okay with him. All you see in his gaze is pure, undeniable love. One hand reaches between the fabric of his shirt and the warm, scarred skin across his pec, as the other brings the medal to the front of the button-up. With all the devotion and tenderness in the world, you secure the medal to his front, slowly slinking your hands away to see if it’ll stay in its place.

When the medal does not budge, you repeat the process over with the remaining medals, until one side of his shirt is significantly weighed down compared to the other side, and both your hearts are bursting with affection for the human being stood before you. Sliding your now empty hands up his shoulders, his calloused palms resting on either side of your waist, his eyes communicate to you everything that his lips will never need to tell you. You know him. And you know what you mean to him. That’s why as he shuts his eyes and presses a kiss to your forehead, you find yourself whispering the sentence you hope to tell him every day of your life:

“I love you too.”

[solelifauna]

Yandere Batfam & Neglected Reader Prt. 4

Unemployment was not on your bucket list.

The rest of your shift dragged on, each minute weighed down by the persistent presence of Dick, Cass, and Damian. They loitered, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. It was unnerving, knowing they were there—observing, calculating. You tried your best to ignore them, focusing on the customers and getting through the shift, but their eyes on you were impossible to shake.

Eventually, you glance at the clock. Your shift is finally coming to an end. A wave of relief washes over you. Soon, you’ll be out of here. You’ve been expecting a call from Alfred any minute now, either letting you know he’s “on the way” or already outside waiting for you. You clutch onto that thought, hoping for a quick getaway.

But that’s when you feel it, a firm hand on your shoulder. You flinch, startled, and whirl around to find Cassandra standing right behind you, her eyes sharp and her smile almost unsettling in its warmth.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her tone gentle but somehow–wrong.

“Can I–um–help you?” you ask, your voice betraying your unease. Cass is just as overtly intimidating as the others, if not more so. You know who trained her, you know what she's done, what she's capable of.

“We’ll take you home,” she says simply, the statement hanging in the air like an unbreakable decree.

You blink, not sure if you’ve heard her right. “What? I—Alfred’s picking me up,” you stammer, trying to figure out why the hell they’d want to take you home instead.

Cass’s smile doesn’t falter. “Change of plans.”

You glance past her toward the table where Dick and Damian are waiting. They’re already standing, Dick’s usual smirk plastered on his face, while Damian looks like he’s already irritated by the mere suggestion of you being in the same car as him.

“Uh..” You contemplate walking home, imagining the quiet and cool Gotham air being far more appealing than sharing a car with these three. Maybe it’s not that far to walk? Maybe you’ll survive the trip on foot? But you know better than to argue with them—not when Dick is involved.

With a resigned sigh, you nod. “Okay,  I guess. I still need to get my bike though.”

Cassandra hums in approval.

The walk to the car was stifling. Dick led the way, his usual playful grin in place, but there was an intensity behind it that made your skin crawl. Damian followed closely, his silence more oppressive than any words he could’ve said. When you reached the sleek black car, one of Bruce’s more extravagant vehicles, your hesitation grew, but there was no turning back now.

As you slip into the backseat, you find yourself next to Damian, who's already glaring out the window like you’re the most offensive thing in the car, and the leather seat that smells faintly of expensive cologne. Cass takes the passenger seat, her calm demeanor oddly comforting despite the situation, while Dick slides into the driver’s seat.

The car hums to life, and soon enough, you’re speeding through the streets of Gotham. The tension inside the vehicle is thick, almost unbearable. You stare out your window, watching the city blur by, trying your best to disappear into the seat.

“Y/N,” Dick’s voice broke the silence, far too casual for the tension in the car. “You didn’t tell us you were working at that cafe.”

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to say much. “Didn't think I needed to? Why does it matter?”

Dick’s eyes flicked to you in the mirror, a glint of something dark behind his seemingly easy going demeanor. “It seems as though there's a lot of things you haven't told us (Y/n), hmm?”

He just completely ignored your question, and like an idiot, you dignify his question with your own response.

“I don't know why you in particular care, considering you haven't bothered to in the past four years.” You remark, crossing your arms. 

Dicks smile only widened as he cooed at your response. “Oh I don't care (Y/n), but you can't just do whatever you want, right? Your last name’s still Wayne last time I checked, do you know what that means?”

His eyes flicker to you, staring at you through the rear view mirror. You just shrug nervously, you had no idea where he was going with this.

“It means you’re not allowed to just fuck off and do whatever you want. What happens when you’re working and a rouge or random criminal recognizes you? It’ll be our job to drag you back.” He says smiling all the while. Dick doesn't really curse, not like this anyways, and it's starting to scare you. 

There was something sinister beneath his seemingly friendly demeanor. The way he was talking about you, it made you feel more like a possession than a person. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, eyes flicking to Damian and Cassandra. None of them seemed to be fazed by Dick's words. It was like they all understood something you didn't.

"Look," you muttered, "I just needed the job, okay? I didn’t think it was a big deal."

He just nods, “Which is why you'll be putting in your two week’s notice.”

Hold the phone.

“I'm sorry what?”

“I'm sure I spoke clearly, didn't i?”

“I'm–I'm not quitting my job.”

“Yes you are. In fact, you're going to call your boss and let them know right now.”

“You’re fucking crazy if you thin–”

“I'm not asking (Y/n).” He says, a certain edge to his voice. “Call your boss.”

You’re scared. You don't know why he’s doing this. Shaking, you pull out your phone, staring at the screen as if it could somehow save you from this situation. You know they won’t let you get out of this. Not with the way Dick’s smile is hovering on the edge of something dangerous, not with Damian’s silent approval and Cassandra’s eerie calm. The power dynamic is suffocating—this isn’t a request; it’s an order.

“Call,” Dick says again, his voice now a warning.

You swallow hard, your fingers trembling as you scroll to your boss’s number. You want to refuse, you want to stand your ground, but the fear of what would happen if you did keeps your rebellion at bay. You press the call button, and the phone rings in your ear.

“Hello?” your boss answers, their voice friendly and unsuspecting.

“Hey Daniel, it’s Y/N,” you say, your voice shaking. “I—I’m sorry, but I have to put in my two weeks’ notice. I—uh, I can’t work here anymore.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “What? Y/N, is everything okay?”

No. “Yeah, it’s fine,” you lie. “I just… something came up, and I can’t keep the job.”

Your boss hesitates, clearly concerned. “Are you sure? If this is about needing time off, we can work something out—”

“No, I’m sure,” you cut them off, glancing at the rearview mirror, where Dick’s eyes are still watching you with that unsettling intensity. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

You hang up before they can ask more questions. There’s a sick feeling in your stomach, like you’ve just lost something.

Dick hums in approval. “Good. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You don’t respond. You’re too numb, too angry to even find the words to fight back. The rest of the car ride is silent. When you finally arrive back at the manor, you slip out of the car without a word, making a beeline for your room. You can hear them behind you, talking quietly amongst themselves, but you don’t care. You just need to be alone.

The worst part was, you didn't even get to go back for your bike. Gotham wasn't exactly known for its secure parking spaces, especially for a bike left unattended for hours. By now, it was probably stolen or stripped for parts. Another loss to add to the growing list.

You collapsed onto your bed after a long, hot shower, letting the steam wash away the dried coffee and lingering bitterness of the day. The frustration and humiliation clung to you, but you tried to push it all aside as you buried yourself in mundane distractions. Homework? Done, though half-heartedly. Your phone? A welcome relief, a way to escape the reality of what your life had become.

The phone call with your friends was a lifeline. You started by relaying the bizarre events of your day—Dick showing up at your workplace, forcing you to quit, the awful encounter with the Karen who’d thrown coffee in your face. Arya and Ethan were outraged on your behalf, their voices rising with indignation as they expressed disbelief at how ridiculous your life had become.

“What is wrong with him?” Arya had exclaimed after you explained how Dick had basically forced you to quit. “It’s like he gets off on controlling you.”

Ethan chimed in, his voice laced with sarcasm. “It’s the Wayne family, what do you expect? They think the world revolves around them.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics eventually, giving you a break from the heavy reality of your situation. Arya’s excitement over the girl she liked responding to her Instagram story was a welcome distraction. She went on a rant about how this girl was clearly the one, and you and Ethan couldn’t help but exchange amused glances over the phone. Arya’s giddiness was infectious, and soon the three of you were laughing—deep, real laughter that made you momentarily forget about everything.

But, as with all good things, the fun came to an end with a knock at your door. You sighed heavily, already knowing what was coming.

"Master (Y/n), it’s time for dinner."

The familiar voice of Alfred carried through the door, his polite yet firm tone unmistakable. You groaned, dragging yourself off the bed with all the enthusiasm of someone heading toward their own execution. Dinner meant facing Dick, and after the day you'd had, that was the last thing you wanted to deal with.

You swung open the door, forcing a smile for Alfred, though you knew he could see right through it. "Hey Alfie, how was today?"

Alfred smiled, ever the picture of calm. "All good in a day's work, Master (Y/n). Might I inquire how work today was?"

You couldn’t help but grimace at the mention of work. "It... it was alright," you said, though the weight of your words made it clear that was a lie. Alfred’s raised brow told you he wasn’t fooled.

"Well," you sighed, the reality sinking in further as you spoke, "it doesn’t matter anymore anyways. I quit today."

Alfred’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "But my dear, I thought you adored working there? Whatever did happen?"

You couldn’t hold back the bitterness in your voice as you answered, "Dick."

Alfred’s eyes softened with understanding, and the sympathy in his gaze was almost too much to bear. "Ah, I see. I’m sorry you’ve had to do so," he said, and you could tell he genuinely meant it.

"It’s not your fault, Alfie," you replied, feeling a pang of guilt for dragging him into your mess. "Which is why I wanted to ask if I could have dinner in my room today? I don’t think I’ll be able to stay civil with Dick sitting there."

Alfred gave you a sad smile, one that only deepened the dread in your chest. "Usually, it would be more than allowed," he began, his voice gentle, "however, today your father has requested that you attend dinner no matter what."

Your heart sank. "What?"

"Yes," Alfred said with a hint of regret in his voice. "Unfortunately, you don’t have much of a choice today, my dear."

You stared at Alfred, dumbstruck. Since when did Bruce care whether or not you were at dinner? He barely acknowledged your presence most of the time, and now suddenly it was a demand?

Alfred gave you one last apologetic look before he turned to leave, his footsteps fading down the hall. You stood frozen in place, disbelief washing over you.

What the actual fuck is happening?

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