#I WAS JOKING ABOUT HIS GRANDPARENTS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starry-bi-sky · 7 months ago

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nobody is safe hahaha! trust me if i had the spoons for it i'd be replying to everyone's tags, i am delighted to reply to them

#I really like your description of a Fully Ghost Danny#I think it fits him

character design is my favorite thing ever. the outfits themselves im not too good at sometimes, but the physical appearances are like. my favorite thing ever. Coming up with Fem Danyal's design was a treat. I put a claw at the end of her braid and turned her hair into a rope dart, it was fantastic.

Danny's ghost being permanently 14 is so tragic to me, but the ide of his ghost form fluctuating between ages only ust hit me as I was writing it and I thought it'd be neat as fuck ldshf. What age he appears at varies by a lot of different things including but not limited to his mood and attention.

#I also love the whole ‘making his first death more tragic by making him younger when it happened’ thing#it always makes reveals that much more tragic and I am HERE for it

FAIR. I'll be frank I did it here just so that I could have Danny meet Bruce when he was 14/13 and give them more family bonding time, but I fr wanna make more aus where his first death happens when he's a little younger. I forgot that it was just a thing I could just do if I wanted, and its reminded me my Mockingbird Au from when I was still active in Maribat.

And its so tragic! and uncomfortable for the people around Phantom! I'm just imagining little 11-12yr old phantom in a hazmat suit that's clearly meant for someone bigger than him, some of it slightly shrunk to fit better. Maybe there's some tragic reasoning behind it like the heat of the portal melted the suit a little bit so it fits danny a little better but is still visibly too big.

(Aw maybe when he's really upset his suit start to get all melty? I've thought a lot about the more horrific aspect of being basically cooked alive in between the doorway of two dimensions. I have this image of the arms become charred and skeletal like when he uses too much of his powers. The sleeves of his suit melting off and onto his skin in plastic chunks to reveal black-charred skeletal arms and hands underneath. I'll spare details on what I think his face looks like, except for the idea that he loses an eye and can roll the remaining one between sockets)

And he's got these long, slightly droopy elf ears that look slightly too big for him, highlighting just how young he is. They move too, pricking up when he hears something, pinning back when he feels a certain emotion. And of course the standard cosmetic changes like the glowing catlike green eyes and fluffy white hair that flicker and moves like an aurora borealis at the tips. And of course, the glowing star freckles.

Overall, him just blatantly looking like a child. It's a constant punch in the gut that this honest to god dead kid is the one protecting the city from harm.

#I also love that even though this is a ‘bad’ ending it still leaves us with a more bittersweet feeling than a depressing one

its about the clossuuurrreee.

#I wonder how the batfam would react to his age fluctuating tho#and how he was already halfway dead long before he fully died

confusion and heartbreak! someone would ask and danny gets all sheepish. he weighs his pros and cons and then reveals his Tragic Backstory™ and the Accident that turned him into a halfa. He explains he used to be a hero in his hometown, and that his godfather -- the one that poisoned him -- was his arch-nemesis.

Which, everyone just listens to with intent horror. It's like listening to a tragedy after its already long passed. A child hero -- first killed by his parents' irresponsibility -- murdered by his arch-nemesis, who happened to also be his godfather. He didn't have anyone to keep him safe; he was completely alone.

What's even worse is when Danny tells them that Vlad didn't even intend for Danny to die -- he poisoned him as a control tactic, but didn't think Danny would actually run away.

the guilt is thick in the air.

#I wonder if there would be a way for him to visit them/for them to visit him after the heroes get back to the living realm#like#maybe after the first incident some of the heroes get thrown back into the Infinite Realms#I’m not saying that it would be often#but it would definitely cause some angst and hijinks

i was thinking about this! I think it'd be kinda sweet. Danny doesn't stick around often, but Gotham has a few areas where the veil between the zone and the living world thins out. Once he learns where these shortcuts are, he occasionally pops by to say hi. Usually its only for a few minutes, and only if patrol is slow.

Occasionally he'll start showing up to specific world-ending threats, or if somehow a ghost slips through to the living realm he'll follow right after to curbstomp their ass back to it. Very specific mental image of this teeny 12 year old with stars in his hair cheerfully German Supplexing some Ares-wannabe ghost into the fucking pavement, before turning to the Justice League and saying "Hey guys! Don't worry, I've got this!"

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

#I am just realizing that if I let my imagination run wild I have an inability to leave something sad #<<<thats vaaalid.#danny doesnt show up often because he likes enjoying his afterlife but he does show up. he jokes that he's retired and the JL members see #no reason to argue or recruit him. the dead should rest in peace after all and the kid has done more than enough when he was alive and #holding down the fort while the rest of them were going thru their training arcs.#danny gets rather tactile after you become friends with him so its not too uncommon for him to wrap around your shoulders or hang off them.#he has a habit of resting his cheek on your shoulder and following you around. can and will fall asleep on you. and has done this to batman #specifically multiple times. can AND WILL talk your ears off about space and everything in between.#looking up this boy's trivia is a treat because he wRITES IN CURSIVE?? wanted to find more things for him to be interested in than space #and boom new hc: calligraphy. he's a calligraphy nerd. im deciding that now. im also making him a motorcycle guy too actually.#this boy was gonna have a MOTORCYCLE. i know i've seen it mentioned on tumblr but for some reason it didn't click until now #he was originally gonna be called Jackie after Jackie Chan? apparently?? he's got a junior astronaut certificate too.#my great grandparents loved motorcycles and traveled all around america with them when they were younger. were part of some arizona #motorcycle group too. so danny's getting a fascination with motorcycles. he had little figurines in his room on a shelf alongside his space #stuff. he knows a lot of motorcycle trivia. freaks the fuck out (affectionate) whenever someone shows him their bike. hes so endearing guys #he breaks everyone's heart. he's so earnest and kind and its so painful knowing he died so young and was still a hero. he's such a good kid #was thinking about the heroes or at least the batfam somehow seeing the night danny died the 2nd time but even that's a little too personal

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aletterinthenameofsanity · 10 months ago

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Y'know, there's this gripe I've had for years that really frustrates me, and it has to do with Love, Simon and people joking about it and calling it too-pg and designed-for-straight-people and all the like. (A similar thing has happened to Heartstopper, but that's another conversation.)

I saw Love, Simon in theaters when it came out my senior year in high school. I saw it three times, once with my friends/parents on opening night, once with my brother over spring break, and once with my grandparents.

On opening night, the air in the room was electric. It was palpable. Half the heads in there were dyed various colors. Queer kids were holding hands. We were all crying and laughing and cheering as a group. My friends grabbed my hands at the part where Simon was outed and didn't let go until his parents were saying that they accepted him. My friend came out to me as non-binary. Another person in our group admitted that she had feelings for girls. It was incredible. I left shaking. This was the first mainstream queer romance movie that had ever been produced by one of the main five studios, and I know that sounds like another "first queer character from Disney" bit but you have to understand that even in 2018 this was groundbreaking. Getting to have a sweet queer rom-com where the main character was told that he got "to breathe now" after coming out meant so much to me and my friends.

But also, from a designed-for-straight-people POV (which, to be frank, it was written by a bisexual author and directed by a gay man, this was not designed for straight audiences), why is it a bad thing that it appealed to the widest possible audience? That it could make my parents and grandparents see things in a new light? My stepdad wasn't at all interested in rom-coms but he saw it with me because it was something I cared about and he hugged me when we came out of the theater. My very Catholic grandparents watched it with me and though my grandpa said he still didn't quite understand the whole 'gay thing,' all he wanted was for me to be happy and to have a happy ending like Simon did. My Nana actually cried when Simon came out and squeeze my hand when his mother told him he could breathe.

And when Martin blackmailed Simon, my mom, badass ally that she is, literally hissed "Dropkick him. Dropkick him in the balls" leading to multiple queer kids in the audience to laugh or smile. Having my parents there- the only parents, by the way, out of my group of queer and questioning friends- made multiple people realize that supportive adults were out there. That parents like those in Love, Simon do exist in real life.

When people complain about Heartstopper not being realistic or Love, Simon being too cutesy, I remember seeing Love, Simon on opening night. I remember my friend coming out and my stepdad hugging me and my mom defending us through this character. I remember the cheers that went through the audience when Bram and Simon kissed and the chatter in the foyer after the movie was over and the way that this movie made me understand that happy endings do exist.

Queer kids need happy endings. Straight people need entry points to becoming allies. Both of these things can come together in beautiful ways. They can find out about more queer culture later, but for now, let them have this. Let them all have a glimpse at a better, happier world. Let them have queer joy.

#love simon #simon vs thsa #simon spier #spierfeld #bram greenfeld #my experiences #meta #the importance of queer joy #heartstopper #becky albertalli #my mom also watched rwrb with me last year when it premiered #and let me tell you that was interesting sitting in the room with her for an r-rated romance movie like that

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lizziesangel · 21 days ago

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RAFE CAMERON - the language of roses

x FEM!reader - MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: your entire life rafe had been giving you roses in different colours, but you never knew what he really wanted to say

WORD COUNT: 3956

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: english is NOT my first language, soft!rafe cameron, oblivious!reader

rafe cameron was the kind of kid who never sat still. always running, climbing, jumping off something too high just to prove he could. but there was one thing he always slowed down for: you.

you didn’t know why, back then. it wasn’t like you’d done anything special. you were just the girl who lived two houses down, the one who tagged along on all his adventures because you were good at keeping up. you’d follow him through the woods behind the cameron house, across the sandy dunes near the water, and even onto the roof of the clubhouse his dad had built in their backyard.

but every so often, he’d stop, like he’d remembered something important, and he’d disappear for a minute or two.

the first time it happened, you were seven. you’d been playing hide-and-seek in the cameron yard, and you’d been crouched behind the garden shed for what felt like forever, waiting for him to find you. when he finally did, he was grinning, his hair messy and sticking to his forehead. in his hand was a single yellow rose.

“what’s that for?” you’d asked, wrinkling your nose.

“it’s for you,” he said, holding it out like it was no big deal.

“why?”

he’d shrugged. “just ‘cause. you’re my best friend.”

that became his thing.

when you scraped your knee climbing a tree, rafe handed you a yellow rose from his mom’s garden and said, “it’ll make you feel better.”

when you had to spend a week at your grandparents’ house and came back sulking about missing the beach, there he was with another yellow rose.

“what does it mean?” you’d asked one day, sitting cross-legged on his bed as he sorted through his pokémon cards.

“what?” he asked, not looking up.

“the roses. why do you always give me yellow ones?”

he paused, his hands stilling. “it’s just… you know. the prettiest one i could find.”

“oh.”

he’d gone back to his cards, but you’d stared at the flower on the bedside table, something about it making your chest feel funny.

by the time you were ten, the roses felt like part of your routine. if you had a bad day at school, rafe would show up with one tucked behind his ear, waiting for you at your front door.

“here,” he’d say, handing it over with a grin. “it’s magic. makes everything better.”

“that’s not how magic works,” you’d reply, but you always accepted it anyway.

it wasn’t just the big moments, either. sometimes he gave you roses just because. like when you’d meet him at the playground on a sunny afternoon, or when he’d knock on your window late at night to tell you about a new fort he wanted to build in the woods.

“another one?” you’d tease, twirling the stem between your fingers.

“yep.”

“what’s it for this time?”

“i dunno. just wanted to give it to you.”

you never questioned it. rafe was rafe. the roses were just part of the deal.

but one day, when you were twelve, something changed.

he’d been quiet all afternoon, which wasn’t like him. usually, rafe was the loudest person in the room, always cracking jokes or talking a mile a minute. but that day, as you sat side by side on the dock near his house, he barely said a word.

“what’s up with you?” you asked, nudging him with your elbow.

“nothing,” he muttered, staring at the water.

“you’re lying.”

he looked at you then, his blue eyes serious in a way that made your stomach flip. after a long moment, he reached into his bag and pulled out another yellow rose.

“here,” he said quietly.

you took it, studying his face. “rafe, what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” he said again, but this time, he gave you a small smile. “i just wanted you to have it. that’s all.”

you didn’t push him. instead, you leaned your head against his shoulder, the rose resting in your lap.

“thanks,” you whispered.

“anytime,” he replied.

by the time you were twelve, the yellow roses were a part of you. a part of him. they showed up in places they didn’t belong—pressed between notebook pages, tucked into old shoeboxes, even wilting in jars on your windowsill. you didn’t really know why you kept them, but you couldn’t throw them away. they were yours.

but then, something changed, again.

it happened on a random summer afternoon. the sun was blazing, and you were sprawled out in the cameron backyard, sipping lemonade while rafe fixed the broken tire swing.

“you’re gonna break your neck,” you called out, watching him balance precariously on the wooden frame.

he rolled his eyes but didn’t answer. rafe never did listen to you when it came to stuff like this.

when he finally hopped down, covered in dirt and grass, he didn’t head straight for the lemonade like you expected. instead, he disappeared into the house without a word.

“what are you doing?” you shouted after him, but he didn’t answer.

a few minutes later, he came back, holding something behind his back.

“close your eyes,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips.

“why?”

“just do it!”

you sighed but obeyed, covering your face with your hands. “this better not be another bug.”

“it’s not,” he promised, laughing. “okay, open.”

when you did, he was standing there with a single white rose.

“what’s this for?” you asked, staring at the delicate petals.

he shrugged, looking almost shy. “just thought you’d like it.”

“but… why white?”

“i dunno,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

you didn’t know what to say, so you just smiled and took it from him, your fingers brushing against his for half a second. you didn’t notice the way his cheeks turned pink, or the way he stared at you a little too long before turning back to the swing.

that was the first white rose.

after that, the yellow roses didn’t come often anymore. instead, you’d find white ones—on your doorstep, in your locker, or handed over with a casual, “here, this is for you.”

you never asked why.

by the time you were fourteen, white roses were the new normal. rafe had grown taller, his voice deeper, his confidence sharper. but when he gave you roses, he was still the same boy you’d known forever.

“for me?” you asked one day, twirling the stem of yet another white rose.

“who else?” he replied, grinning.

then came your sixteenth birthday. you didn’t expect anything big—just a day at the beach with rafe, like always. but when he showed up at your door, he wasn’t empty-handed.

“what’s this?” you asked, staring at the bouquet of pink roses in his hands.

he shrugged, but his usual confidence was missing. “birthday gift,” he said, thrusting them toward you.

you took them, your heart racing. “they’re… really pretty.”

“yeah, well. so are you.”

the words hung in the air, heavier than they should’ve been. you stared at him, your cheeks burning, and for the first time, you didn’t know what to say.

by the time you were seventeen, things had changed. it wasn’t just the way you and rafe had grown up—it was the way he’d changed.

you could see it the moment he introduced her—lily, the new girl with the perfect hair and the perfect laugh and the perfect smile. she was everything you weren’t, and you hated how easily rafe seemed to fall for her.

but that wasn’t the worst part.

the worst part was that the roses stopped.

it was a sudden thing. at first, there were other flowers—a bouquet of daisies here, a random tulip there—but never roses. not the yellow ones you’d grown used to, not the white ones or the pink ones that had become a quiet declaration between the two of you. just... no flowers.

at first, you told yourself it didn’t matter. it didn’t. rafe had a girlfriend now.

he didn’t owe you roses anymore.

but you missed them. you missed the thoughtfulness, the friendship, the feeling that, no matter what, you still had a place in his life.

and then the your biggest fear came true—he stopped being your friend altogether.

lily didn’t like how close you and rafe had been. she didn’t want him hanging out with his girl best friend anymore. so rafe, being rafe, did what he always did when he felt cornered: he let go.

you didn’t get it at first. he’d stopped answering your texts, stopped showing up at the usual spots. at school, he’d walk by you without even looking up. you’d sit at lunch, watching him and lily from the other side of the cafeteria, and it made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t explain.

there were no more texts to plan beach trips or late-night talks. no more spontaneous hangouts. nothing.

you tried reaching out once, twice, even three times, but it was always the same—short answers, distant replies, the kind that made it clear he didn’t want to try anymore.

it was too painful. so you stopped trying.

instead, you focused on other things—other people.

it wasn’t like you didn’t have friends, but the friends you had before had always been people who had fallen into your life by default. you had never needed to work for them. they were always there, easy to hold on to. but now, as you walked down the hallway of your high school with a new group of girls—girls who wanted to be your friends, who made an effort to include you, to laugh with you, to spend time with you—you realized something important.

you were learning to let go too.

the girls were different. they were fun and supportive in ways you hadn’t realized you were missing. no one ever told you to back off from their boyfriends. no one ever gave you that uncomfortable look when you were laughing too loudly with one of the guys in the group.

it was easier, in a way. no complications. no unspoken feelings. just fun, carefree friendships.

but you couldn’t help but feel that gnawing ache in your chest whenever you saw rafe and lily together. it was like a quiet reminder that everything between you and him was over.

and then, one day, you saw it.

lily posted a story on instagram—a picture of a vase of flowers. they were bright and pretty, but there was something painfully obvious about them. they weren’t roses.

never roses.

they were daisies. lilies. tulips.

anything but roses.

you looked over at your new group of friends—laughing at something ridiculous, pulling you into their conversation—and for the first time in a long while, you realized something important: you were okay.

no, you weren’t fine. you missed rafe. you missed your best friend. but you weren’t going to stay in the past.

there was a part of you that hoped rafe would realize what he’d lost, that maybe, one day, he’d come back and apologize. but for now, you had other things to focus on.

and maybe that was enough for now.

but still, you didn’t expect to see rafe cameron waiting for you after school.

the day had been uneventful—just the usual classes, the usual laughs with your friends, the usual reminder in the back of your mind that rafe wasn’t part of your world anymore.

but there he was. leaning against the wall near the parking lot, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his hair a mess like he’d been running his fingers through it all day.

your first instinct was to ignore him. he hadn’t spoken to you in months. months. he’d chosen lily, chosen her rules, chosen to let go of everything you’d shared.

but something about the way he looked—lost, broken, sad—stopped you.

you stepped closer, hesitant. “rafe?”

his head snapped up, his blue eyes locking onto yours. for a second, he didn’t say anything, just stared at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“hey,” he said finally, his voice hoarse.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, your tone sharper than you meant it to be.

he flinched, but he didn’t back down. “i... i needed to see you.”

“why?”

“because—” he broke off, running a hand through his hair. “because i screwed up. and because i didn’t know where else to go.”

you crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened. “what about lily?”

he laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “she’s gone. we broke up.”

“oh.”

you didn’t know what else to say. part of you wanted to walk away, to tell him it wasn’t your problem anymore. but the other part—the bigger part, the one that still cared—couldn’t do it.

“come on,” you said, jerking your head toward your car.

he blinked, surprised. “really?”

“yeah,” you muttered. “let’s go.”

the drive back to your house was quiet, the air between you heavy with things unsaid. when you got home, you led him to your room, just like you always used to.

he sat on the edge of your bed, looking around like he couldn’t believe he was there again. “you changed it,” he said, his voice soft.

“yeah,” you replied, sitting cross-legged on the other side. “it’s been a while.”

he nodded, staring down at his hands. “i’m sorry.”

“for what?”

“for everything. for shutting you out. for choosing her. for being an idiot.”

you didn’t say anything, letting the silence stretch between you.

“i missed you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

you looked at him then, really looked at him, and you saw it—the boy you’d grown up with, the one who used to make you laugh until your stomach hurt, the one who always brought you roses.

“i missed you too,” you admitted.

his head snapped up, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you said, smiling faintly. “but you’re still an idiot.”

he laughed, and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed.

you talked for hours, just like you used to. about everything and nothing, about the way life had shifted and the things you’d both been through. it was easy, familiar, like slipping back into an old rhythm.

when he finally stood to leave, you followed him to the door, your heart heavier than you wanted to admit.

“thanks for... for letting me in,” he said, his hand lingering on the doorknob.

“you’re always welcome,” you said softly.

he nodded, gave you one last look, and then he was gone.

when you turned back toward your room, something caught your eye—a splash of color on your bed.

frowning, you walked closer, and your breath caught in your throat.

a single purple rose rested on your pillow.

you picked it up, your fingers trembling as you held it to your chest.

you sank onto the bed, staring at the flower, your mind spinning.

he hadn’t said it, but he didn’t need to. the rose said everything he couldn’t.

and for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you and rafe weren’t finished after all.

by the time you were eighteen, you and rafe had found your way back to each other.

it hadn’t been easy, not at first. there were awkward silences, half-finished sentences, and moments where you both stumbled over how to act around each other. but slowly, the cracks healed. the space between you shrank. and before you knew it, you were best friends again, just like you’d been before everything fell apart.

except now, things were different in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. it wasn't different as in your roses changed from yellow to white, it was just... different.

rafe spent more time with you and your friends than he did with his own. he’d show up at your place unannounced, invite himself to girls’ nights, and make himself at home in your little world. your friends loved him—who wouldn’t? he was funny, charming, and could win over just about anyone with a crooked smile and a well-timed joke.

and then there were the roses.

at first, it had felt like slipping back into an old routine. rafe had always given you flowers—yellow for friendship, white for something deeper, pink for gratitude and love. so when he started showing up with four roses every time he saw you, you didn’t think much of it.

a pink rose, soft and sweet. a white rose, pure and delicate. a yellow rose, bright and cheerful. and a dark pink rose, richer, deeper, full of meaning you didn’t quite understand.

“what’s this for?” you’d ask every time, your voice teasing.

“do i need a reason?” he’d reply, smirking as he handed them over.

you’d roll your eyes, tuck them into a vase, and move on.

it wasn’t until one friday night, when rafe wasn’t there, that your friends brought it up.

you were sprawled out on your living room floor with your two best friends, abby and jen, eating popcorn and flipping through magazines. the absence of rafe’s usual presence was noticeable, but you didn’t mention it.

“so,” abby said, sitting up and tossing a kernel into her mouth. “are you and rafe, like... a thing?”

you blinked, startled. “what?”

jen raised an eyebrow. “you and rafe. are you dating?”

you laughed, the sound a little too loud. “no. what? no way. we’re just friends.”

“just friends?” abby repeated, her tone skeptical.

“yes,” you said firmly. “we’ve been best friends since we were kids. that’s all it is.”

jen exchanged a look with abby, then turned back to you. “okay, but... the roses?”

“what about them?”

“he gives you flowers every time he sees you!” abby said, throwing her hands up.

“so? he’s always done that.”

“always?” jen asked, her eyes wide.

“yeah,” you said with a shrug. “since we were six.”

both girls gaped at you like you’d just confessed to a crime.

“you’re telling me,” abby said slowly, “that rafe cameron has been giving you flowers for twelve years, and you’ve never thought it was weird?”

“it’s not weird,” you said defensively. “it’s just... a thing we do. it doesn’t mean anything.”

“it definitely means something,” jen said, crossing her arms. “guys don’t give roses to their best friends for over a decade unless they’re in love with them.”

“he’s not in love with me,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“babe,” abby said, leaning forward. “dark pink roses? those mean, like, admiration and gratitude, but also... y’know. romance.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but the words stuck in your throat.

“and white roses? purity. pink? love. yellow? friendship. he’s literally giving you every part of him in flower form,” jen added.

you stared at them, your mind racing.

“he’s... he’s just being rafe,” you said weakly.

“exactly,” abby said. “and rafe is in love with you.”

their words echoed in your head long after the conversation ended, and when you went to bed that night, your eyes drifted to the vase on your desk.

four roses. pink, white, yellow, dark pink.

you’d never questioned them before. but now, for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was more to them than you’d ever let yourself believe.

your nineteenth birthday was minutes away, and you were already in bed.

well, technically you were sitting on your bed, legs crossed, scrolling through your phone while waiting for the clock to hit midnight. your hair was twisted into perfect curls, your nose strip was firmly in place, and your face was freshly moisturized—your skincare routine impeccable as always.

you weren’t expecting anything. your friends had already promised to make a big deal out of it tomorrow, and you figured the actual moment of your birthday would pass quietly, just you and your phone and a sleepy smile.

but then you heard the faint scrape of your window.

at first, you froze. was someone trying to break in?

“relax,” came a familiar voice, low and teasing. “it’s just me.”

“rafe?”

you slid off your bed, rushing to the window to find him perched on the ledge, one hand gripping the frame, the other holding something behind his back.

“what are you doing?” you hissed, trying to keep your voice down. “it’s midnight!”

“exactly,” he said, flashing that boyish grin that always got him out of trouble. “happy birthday.”

you blinked, completely thrown off. “you climbed up here for that?”

he shrugged, effortlessly pulling himself through the window and into your room. “you’re worth it.”

“you’re insane.”

“and you’ve got... something on your nose,” he said, his gaze locking onto the strip.

your cheeks flushed. you’d completely forgotten about your skincare situation.

“oh my god, i look ridiculous,” you muttered, turning away from him.

“no, you look... like you,” he said, his voice softer now.

you glanced back at him, narrowing your eyes. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means i like you better like this,” he said simply. “no makeup, no filters, just... you.”

before you could respond, he brought his hand forward, revealing the bouquet he’d been holding.

“here,” he said, holding it out to you.

you stared at it, your heart doing a strange little flip. the roses were beautiful—soft pastel purple, deep dark purple, a single vivid red, and of course, the familiar yellow.

“rafe,” you whispered, taking them from him. “you didn’t have to—”

“yeah, i did,” he cut you off. “you deserve them.”

“rafe...” you started, but the words wouldn’t come.

he shrugged like it was no big deal, but the way he looked at you told you otherwise. “happy birthday,” he said again, his voice soft, his eyes searching yours.

you stared at him, your heart thudding in your chest. the weight of the flowers in your hands, the warmth in his gaze, the fact that he’d climbed through your window just to be the first to see you on your birthday—it was all too much and somehow just enough.

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice unsteady.

he stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours as you clutched the bouquet.

“you’re everything to me, you know that?” he said, the words tumbling out like he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

your heart stopped for a moment, then started again, faster, louder.

“rafe...”

he shook his head, his hands moving to gently frame your face. “you don’t have to say anything. just... can I—?”

he didn’t finish the sentence, but you understood.

“yes,” you breathed, barely able to get the word out.

he leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, but you didn’t. when his lips brushed yours, it was soft at first, tentative, like he was afraid you’d disappear.

but then you kissed him back, and something inside both of you broke free.

the roses slipped from your hands onto the bed, forgotten as you melted into him, your arms winding around his neck, his fingers tangling gently in your curls.

when you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathing heavily, the world outside your room completely forgotten.

“happy birthday,” he whispered again, his smile so full of affection it made your chest ache.

“best one yet,” you replied, your own smile matching his.

and as he stayed by your side, your head resting on his shoulder, the roses scattered around you, you couldn’t imagine a better way to start a new year of your life.

and for years, you kept them all—pressed between the pages of your favorite books, tucked into jars on your windowsill, little pieces of rafe that made you feel like the most important person in the world.

because to him, you were.

#lizzieswrites𝜗𝜚 #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron imagine #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x you #drew starkey #outer banks x reader

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stars-in-a-jam-jar · 8 months ago

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I don't think Buddy asks Helio any questions.

Kristen asked 'Why do bad things happen to good people?' because she believed in all the good things she was taught, but noticed the strange disconnect between the world as it was and the world as it was taught to her. So she thought, surely, if I can't come up with the answer, Helio will have it. And she hates him for dodging her question.

Buddy is far more deluded than Kristen ever was. And he is far, far angrier inside as a result, even if he deliberately conceals this fact from himself to protect himself from the inevitable mental breakdown this would cause. Buddy is not as altruistic and giving and caring as Kristen is. He wouldn't question why he was betrayed or dig into a question like 'Why do bad things happen to good people?' Those aren't the answers he needs, because of course he'd be betrayed by someone outside the church, that makes perfect sense. Of course bad things happen to good people, we simply live in a fallen world.

Or, well. He used to live in a fallen world. Now he's dead here. In Helio's divine domain.

I think Buddy, as he wanders through fields of corn to the big farmhouse where Helio is chilling out, privately thinks about the fact that Kristen Applebees' horrified expression was the last thing he ever saw before a sharp pain in his throat. I think Buddy assumes Helio knows he's thinking this and apologizes for bringing thoughts like that into paradise. I think he thanks Helio for recognizing his devotion and bringing him here once he died and dutifully deceives himself about his own rising emotions at contending with the fact that he's dead now.

After all, he was raised to die. He was raised to want to die.

To want to be here with his god whenever it was he called Buddy to him. So he doesn't feel upset, no, of course not. He's just a little surprised at how sudden it was. (How completely random. How unceremonious and unfair.) He's a little bit worried how his grandparents would react to the news is all. (He cracks a joke that maybe he'll see them here shortly after they do get the news. He doesn't laugh at it.) He had his own plans for how he'd spread the good word in life, but of course, Helio had other plans. (Nothing Buddy ever wanted really mattered. He knew that, he knew the will of Helio was the real thing that mattered, and everything else was just a small list of preapproved extracurriculars in the syllabus of his life.)

He can't be upset about this.

He shouldn't be upset about this.

This is his reward.

This place and these people and this god are his reward for a life of service and devotion and walking in the light.

It's not his place to be upset about his own reward. Kristen got upset when she went to heaven, when she met Helio, and look where that got her.

Look... look where that got her.

He thinks he hates her. For looking at him like that. All the ways she looked at him. Like he was something pitiful and contemptible. Someone she needed to threaten away from her little brother. Someone she has to double and triple check if he's going to revive her when he's under magical oath to do just that or lose his connection to a divinity she threw away after being chosen.

And then. In that last moment, she looked at him and he saw grief and horror and caring. Like his death was awful and unfair and tragic.

And he thinks maybe he hates her for that. For challenging him every conversation they had and looking at him like she knew something he didn't. Like she was above him. Like killing your own god twice in life is a preferable fate to living for the promise of eternal sunlight and cornbread in death. A promise which was kept to him.

Kristen was promised to Helio, too.

And he can't unsee her face. He can't move along and focus on what truly matters (Helio, the church, spreading the word, doling out divine punishment when needed) because he's reached the end. There is nothing left. Only this bright sunny cornfield and a god who... is nice. And who cares about him, personally. He got Buddy's name wrong the first and only time they held audience.

He thinks he hates Kristen, and he hates that that hatred isn't immediately squashed out of his soul just by being here. In paradise. Where he belongs. Where every follower of Helio belongs. Where he never has to have anyone look at him the way Kristen did ever again.

I don't think Buddy Dawn asks Helio any questions. Because how do you ask the god you devoted every waking minute of your life to, 'Why do I hate it here? Why does this feel like hell?'

(There's a part 2 now that the next ep is out >:3)

#fantasy high junior year spoilers #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #d20 fhjy #dimension 20 #buddy dawn #kristen applebees #kristin applebees #cw death #religious trauma #wow I really said 'he was raised to want to die' without even flinching didn't I?

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clovermoters · 2 days ago

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santa, doesn’t know you like i do

ln4 x reader

summary: lando is meeting your extended relatives for the first time, when a harsh comment brings him to a panic attack, your quick to help him.

warnings: panic attack, kisses, hardly proofread or edited and probably some grammar errors

a/n: here’s my day late christmas fic that i wrote half asleep, enjoy beautifuls 💗

you stood in the mudroom of your london apartment carefully applying your new lip product lando had bought you as one of your many christmas gifts.

Lando appears behind you, looking sickeningly handsome in a dress shirt and pants. his hands find your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder, his signature smile on his face as he watches you work your magic.

“you ready?” you ask the boy. he dips his head to place feather light kisses on your neck before snuggling deeper into the nape of your neck. he replies a muffled “not really” before he moves to shove his feet into his air forces.

he holds your coat out to assist you, placing a light peck on your lips once you’re ready to brave the snowy outdoors.

Lando drove you two to your family home, his nerves practically radiating off of him. He had met your parents multiple times before but today he’d get to meet your grandparents and extended relatives.

“Lando, everything’s going to be fine, they’ll love you.” you take his hand in yours. He sighs as he slightly plays with your fingers on your lap while focusing on the road ahead.

“What if they don’t though?” he argued. shooting a worried look at you. you give him an ‘are you kidding me’ look.

“I don't think they can physically hate you, just be yourself and they will adore you, just like I do!” you stretch across the centre console to place a kiss on his cheek.

you pull into the driveway of your childhood home, the christmas lights your dad had hung since you were small still decorating the roof nicely. lando kills the ignition, taking a moment to breathe.

he is so fucking nervous.

you had briefed him slightly this morning, warning him of your relatives being slightly traditional, worried that they wouldn’t understand what lando does and how he’s perfectly capable of providing for the two of you.

and treating you like a princess.

“Alright, let’s go make our entrance” you chime, walking towards the door holding your family favourite casserole and Lando juggles 5 gifts in his hands.

you ring the doorbell, shooting lando a soft smile while he gives you his excitement-nervous smile before the door opens revealing your mother.

“oh don’t you two look adorable!” your mother said smiling wide and rushing to bring you two into a hug. your father close behind her prompting to free up your hands and take your coats.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆

while you exchange your hellos around the house, lando shadows you. his hand interlocked with yours refusing to part even when you hug your relatives. you and lando make your way around the house, introducing lando as you go.

Your aunts and uncles adore him, your cousins fanboy over him and don’t let you walk away until each and every one of them gets a picture with lando. the more people lando met the more outgoing he became. The boy was showing the playful, silly side you saw daily.

“socializing is going smoothly!” Lando jokes. you chuckle while leading him over to your grandfather.

“Grandpa, this is my boyfriend Lando,” Lando offers his hand to shake with him “pleasure to meet you, sir” he added.

your grandfather eyes him while they shake hands. you can tell the man is thinking, and you begin to worry about what he will say next. knowing the man, it won’t be something nice.

“So Lando, what do you do for a living?” the older man asks. jumping straight into the hard questions. Lando stands up a little straighter before replying.

“uh- i drive in formula 1, sir. for mclaren.” you softly squeeze his arm linked with yours, reassuring him of your presence.

“oh, you’re the guy who choked the championship aren’t you?” your grandfather said attempting to innocently tease lando. The man laughs and while Lando joins in the laughter, you can feel him tense up.

you swiftly move on to the rest of your extended relatives, lando slowly began to fall behind you again, regressing back to the shell of shyness from earlier in the evening.

you could sense something was wrong when you noticed how quickly he was zoning out.

He was fidgeting with your fingers while you held a conversation with your aunts who were keen to learn everything about your time spent in monaco. You tried your best to include Lando in the conversation but the boy was too focused on the floor to properly listen to what your aunt had to say.

You excused yourself and Lando, dragging him upstairs into the bathroom to give the two of you some privacy.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly. Lando sits on the edge of the bathtub putting his head in his hands.

He doesn't answer you right away, you stand in front of him, giving him a moment to collect his thoughts.

You silently watch him as his breathing picks up, he lifts his head and the moment his eyes connect with yours, you swear you can hear your heart shatter. His eyes are filled with tears that are threatening to spill onto his face.

You're on his level in a split second, taking his face in your hands. “baby, hey what's wrong?” you push, his breathing is rapid and uneven as he attempts to get the words out.

You wrap your arms around him “shh, it's okay, im here.” you rub circles into his back letting him take a moment.

After a few minutes, Lando's breathing slowed, he wiped his tears with his shirt while you handed him a glass of water.

You were no stranger to Lando having panic attacks, the recent season resulted in Lando suffering from multiple.

You knew what he needed and right now he just needed you to sit with him until he managed to calm himself down enough to communicate to you what he's feeling.

He looks up at you with tearful eyes “your grandfather's words really hit me, and it was just over from there.” he explains. If your heart already wasn't shattered, someone just stomped on it.

“Oh baby” you sigh, gently rubbing his tear stained cheeks. Lando leans into the touch, letting it ground him.

“Don't listen to him, he’s an ass who doesn't understand how your world works. He would just turn the tv on during Sundays and not actually take in anything he is watching” lando chuckles at that, you smile, thankful he's able to laugh.

“You are amazing, and you achieved so much this year. It is the world's fault that they aren't able to see all you accomplished this year and look to the future and see that you are going to kill it next year-”

he cuts you off by pulling you into a kiss, his lips moving in sync with yours as he gently cups your face. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, asking for access which you happily grant. Your tongues battle each other as the kiss becomes more heated. Lando softly groans into your mouth as you softly bite his lip.

Before the two of you could go past messily making out in your parents bathroom, the sound of your mother announcing dinner is served forces you to pull apart. Lando has a goofy smile on his face while he fixes your hair.

“Thank you, i love you” he whispers before cheekliy placing one last kiss to your lips. “I love you too” you repeat before turning to head down to dinner.

Before you can open the door Lando softly grabs your waist and spins you to face him again. His eyes fall to your lips immediately and just when you think he's about to lean in, his thumb reaches up and softly swipes across your chin.

“You’ve got some lipstick smudged, love.” he teases before waltzing past you as you whip around towards the mirror, quickly fixing your lipstick while he watches you from the door.

Once your makeup looks perfect again, the two of you make your way back to the function, falling into simple conversations over christmas dinner. You watched lando come back to life, simply adoring the way he interacted with your family members.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆

you silently watched from the side as he was in-depth explaining to your aunt how the steering wheel of a car worked, when your small cousin ran up behind him and tapped him on the back.

the boy whips around with a smile plastered on his face “hey lily!” lando crouched down to the girl who was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“hi lando! i just wanted to say i really liked your race in singapore” she said, lando couldn’t help but smile. he was slightly shocked your cousin had even watched his races.

“oh thank you!” Lando leans in slightly, “Tell you what, maybe I can sneak some passes for you and your family at silverstone?” Lando whispers in a mock secrecy, the younger girl gasps.

“So we'd get to see you race?” she asked excitedly. Lando smiled wider, “would you like that?” the girl nodded profusely before speaking

“yes please! your racing is so cool and you are so cool i want to try karting but my dad said i can't until i turn seven.” she pouts slightly and Lando chuckles.

“I just wanna be like you” she adds with a frown and Lando feels his heart swell in his chest. you had told him that your little cousins looked up to him, but hearing it come from one of their tiny mouths, landos worries from before fade into memories.

you were helping your mother finish the dishes while the house slowly emptied out. lando wraps his arms around your waist while he watches you clean the silverware from over your shoulder.

“your cousins love me.” he says smugly. you giggle softly at him before turning in his arms, “they do love you, i’ve had many phone calls asking if they could talk to you. you’ve replaced me as the role model.”

your hands find comfort in his curls, smiling up at him before he places a quick peck to your cheek.

“c’mon, let’s go home” he takes your hands and you both make your way to the car. As you drove home, Lando replayed the events of tonight in his head, he looked over at you sleeping silently against the cool car window.

realizing he can’t please everybody, he needs to focus on loving the people who do support him and look up to him. he smiled at the thought, turning back to the road as the light turned green.

maybe christmas at your parents wasn’t so bad after all.

tbh this is so bad but whateves MERRY CHRISTMASSSSS and happy holidays to all who celebrates 🤍

#formula 1 #lando norris fanfic #ln4 #lando x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando fluff #lando norris #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x you

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moonlightwritingf1 · 14 days ago

Text

Snowed-In Together | LN4

❄️ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N and Lando’s road trip to a cabin turns into a bickering match, but after a heartfelt moment, they share a kiss. By the end of the storm, their rivalry has transformed into something more.

❄️ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❄️ word count ━━━━━━━ 1.3k

The drive up to the cabin was supposed to be relaxing. Christmas lights twinkled along the roadside, and the snow had been falling softly—at least until the storm rolled in. Y/N and Lando, stuck in the same car thanks to their mutual friends’ poor planning, were now bickering endlessly.

“This is your fault,” Y/N said, shooting him a glare as the wipers struggled against the heavy snow.

“My fault?” Lando retorted, his voice rising in indignation. “You’re the one who insisted on stopping for coffee. I said we should keep going before the weather got worse!”

“Right, because skipping caffeine is the key to safe driving,” she snapped.

Every shared moment seemed to turn into a battle of wills—one neither could ever admit enjoying, even though their friends joked about their "chemistry."

It wasn’t chemistry, Y/N thought as they pulled into the snowy driveway. It was just him being insufferable.

They’d barely made it to the cabin before the storm hit full force. Inside, their friends were already settled, fires lit, drinks poured, and the best rooms claimed. Y/N and Lando, arriving last, were left with the drafty, freezing room at the far end of the cabin.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Y/N muttered, eyeing the twin beds.

Lando, standing behind her with his bag slung over his shoulder, let out a sharp laugh. “This is going to be fun.”

“Define fun,” she shot back, dropping her bag onto one of the beds.

_________________________________________________

The storm was relentless, the wind howling against the windows as the snow piled higher outside. The cabin, warm and cozy in the main living area, felt like a refuge—unless you were Lando or Y/N.

They’d spent the evening snapping at each other over every little thing.

“Who chooses Die Hard over Love Actually during Christmas?” Y/N demanded, clutching the remote.

“People with taste,” Lando retorted, lounging on the couch like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Their friends exchanged knowing glances, clearly amused by the bickering.

“You two should probably just kiss and get it over with,” one of them teased.

Y/N spluttered, her cheeks flushing. “Excuse me? As if that would ever happen.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his smirk infuriating. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

The next day, the storm had worsened, leaving them completely snowed in. The cabin was cut off from the outside world, and the power flickered ominously throughout the morning.

Wrapped in a blanket, Y/N sat by the window, sipping tea and trying to ignore Lando’s presence as he sprawled on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“You’re surprisingly quiet,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Maybe because I’ve run out of ways to insult you,” she shot back, though there was no real bite in her tone.

He smirked, setting his phone down. “Impressive. I didn’t think that was possible.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile.

Later that afternoon, Y/N busied herself with unpacking some Christmas decorations their friends had brought. Lando, clearly bored, wandered over and started rummaging through the box.

“What are you doing?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Decorating,” she said shortly, not looking at him.

He wandered over, picking up a small, hand-painted ornament. “What’s this?”

“Don’t touch that!” she said, snatching it from his hands.

He blinked, surprised by her tone. “Relax, I wasn’t going to break it.”

“It’s fragile,” she said softly, her fingers brushing over the chipped paint.

“It’s just an ornament,” he teased, but his voice had lost some of its edge.

“It’s not just an ornament,” she replied, her tone sharp. “It’s... it belonged to my grandparents.”

Lando’s teasing smirk faded, replaced by something softer. “Oh.”

“They gave it to me when I was little,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “It’s the only thing I have left of them.”

The room fell quiet, and for a moment, Lando seemed at a loss for words. Then, in a voice softer than she’d ever heard from him, he said, “I didn’t mean to joke about it. I get it... holding on to things like that.”

Y/N looked up, startled by his sincerity. “You do?”

He nodded, his gaze distant. “Yeah. It’s not the same, but... Christmas isn’t really the same for me anymore. With racing, I’m always away from my family. It’s like I’ve lost that connection to it, you know?”

Her heart softened, the walls she’d built around him crumbling just a little. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

He shrugged, a small, self-deprecating smile on his lips. “You never asked.”

Something shifted between them in that moment, the usual sharpness of their banter replaced by an unfamiliar warmth.

That night, the power went out completely, plunging the cabin into darkness. The fireplace provided some warmth, but the room they shared was freezing. Y/N huddled under her blankets, shivering, until Lando spoke up.

“You’re going to freeze over there,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence.

“I’m fine,” she replied through chattering teeth.

“Stop being stubborn,” he said, his voice laced with irritation and concern. She heard him get up, and before she could protest, he was climbing into her bed, pulling his blanket over hers. “There. Better?”

She glared at him, though the warmth was undeniably welcome. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Yeah, well, you never do,” he said, his voice soft but laced with amusement and settling beside her. “Doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”

The bed was small, and the proximity was unnerving. She could feel the heat of his body, his scent—woodsy and faintly sweet—lingering in the air.

“You’re annoying,” she muttered, trying to ignore the way her heart was racing.

“And you’re stubborn,” he countered, his lips curving into a small smile.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the flickering firelight casting shadows across his face. Something in his expression softened, and Y/N felt her heart skip a beat.

“Why do we do this?” she asked quietly.

“Do what?”

“Argue. Fight. Act like we hate each other.”

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her. His gaze was intense, but not in the mocking way she was used to. “Maybe because it’s easier than admitting the truth.”

Her breath hitched. “What truth?”

“That you drive me absolutely mad,” he said, as he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his voice low and unsteady. “And I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding. “Lando...”

Her lips parted in surprise, but before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured.

She didn’t.

When his lips met hers, it was soft at first, almost hesitant. But as the kiss deepened, months of tension and unspoken feelings spilled out between them. Her hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer, and he responded with a quiet, desperate intensity that made her head spin.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together.

“Well,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his, “that escalated quickly.”

He chuckled, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Guess we were overdue.”

_________________________________________________

By the time the snowstorm passed, everything between them had changed. The biting remarks and sharp retorts were gone, replaced by teasing smiles and stolen touches. Their friends noticed, of course, but no one said anything—at least, not yet.

As they packed up to leave, Lando lingered by her car, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“So,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, “what happens now?”

She tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “What do you want to happen?”

His smile was slow, warm, and a little unsure. “I want... whatever this is. You and me.”

Her heart fluttered, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “Good. Because I want that too.”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss her again, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.

As she drove away, her cheeks flushed and her lips tingling, she couldn’t help but smile. The storm had left them with something unexpected, something real—and she couldn’t wait to see where it led.

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