#I don’t get how people don’t care about their animals more than that

[writerfae]

Here’s a proof that I am capable of writing Aiden interact with people that are NOT his brother or Talon xD Feat Maya cause she deserves more content (plus a little lore drop)

“So, why are your freckles white?” Aiden blushed slightly. “Excuse me if this is rude to ask,” he added, scratching the back of his neck.

Maya laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you why. You know, I’m not a typical fae. I wasn’t born normally like Talon or Halea. I am what people call a wishling…”

Aiden raised a brow. “A wishling?” He never heard about that before.

Maya nodded. “A fae born from a wish. It’s made possible by an ancient ritual. For generations, those who could not have children on their own used it to get a baby. Childless couples or people that didn’t have a partner but still want a child. Just like my mom.” Her voice softened at the mention of her mother. Aiden understood all too well.

“As you know,” Maya continued, sweeping a stray lock of hair behind her ear gently.

“She was human, but back in the old days even humans made use of this kind of magic. And since my mother was a follower of the old ways - something the people you and I grew up with would call a witch -“

She chuckled. “She knew about that ritual. She didn’t feel the need for a partner, but she wanted a daughter more than anything. Someone she could raise and teach her all she knew, like it was tradition in her family, daughter passing on knowledge to daughter. Someone she wouldn’t be so alone with.”

Aiden nodded. He could understand that. Who didn’t want to drown out loneliness with love, no matter what kind of love?

“And how did she do it?” he asked quietly.

“How exactly this ritual works I don’t know. Just that it requires your blood and… an already existing form of life, like a young animal or a plant, that the life of the child you want can sprout from.”

Aiden’s eyes widened. That sounded kinda ominous. But also really intriguing. So he remained quiet, letting Maya continue.

“In my case it was a fawn that was under my mother’s care. Mother performed the ritual and the next morning, instead of the fawn it was me lying in the hay, a baby that had her mother’s hair and her grandmother’s eyes.”

She smiled fondly at the last sentence.

“So…” Aiden wasnt quite sure if he understood this right. “You were once a deer?”

Maya laughed. “Yes and no. My life had its source in that of a deer, but it wasn’t a life I lived. It is… like a previous life. A rebirth, if you will.” That made sense. Kind of. Aiden couldn’t deny that he was curious.

“And do you remember it? Your previous life?”

“No. Most people don’t remember their previous life. Or do you remember yours?”

That question took Aiden aback. He had never thought about this before, hadn’t really considered that he had lived a life before this one. “No, I don’t…”

Maya smiled. “That’s what I thought. I don’t have memories of what was before. But, and this leads us to your question, a small part, a mark of the life a Wishling was born from remains visible, a reminder of the sacrifice. In my case, it’s the white freckles.”

“Like the white spots on the body of a fawn.”

She smiled. “Like the white spots on the body of a fawn, yes.”

“That’s pretty cool,” he said. “It looks nice on you.”

Maya’s cheeks colored a little at that. “Thanks, Aiden.”

Aiden returned her smile. “Thank you for telling me. And not being offended.”

That made Maya laugh. “No problem.”

*

tag list: @andifthestarsweretodie @bloodlessheirbyjacques @bluehourskyeli @deadlycupid @dustylovelyrun @justafrogandherumbrella @ladywithalamp @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @my-cursed-prince @phantasticdomains @rhikasa @sleepy-night-child @soupopoireau @theguywithnonickname @vampywriter @vsnotresponding @writing-is-a-martial-art (if you want to be added or removed from the tag list let me know!)

[tomorrowxtogether]

SOOBIN: “I thought I should just try to shine as I am.”

TOMORROW X TOGETHER The Star Chapter: SANCTUARY comeback interview

2024.11.11

He once strived to become a lush, towering forest. But he realized that people will love him for exactly what he is—a deep, rolling ocean. And so, he decided to remain as whom he always has been: an ocean named SOOBIN.

You took a trip to Vietnam earlier this year with BEOMGYU. I heard you planned the whole thing. SOOBIN: I’m usually the kind of person who just goes around without a real plan, but since we don’t get much vacation time, I figured we’d better go all out and do everything we could in one go, so I tried planning it all out. (laughs) BEOMGYU just wanted to go with the flow, but there was a ton of stuff I wanted to do.

I’m sure it’s not easy taking a trip or spending your off time with the same people you spend all your time with. SOOBIN: I hang out a lot with the rest of the group on my own time too, though. Three of us were all hanging out together just yesterday. To be perfectly honest, it doesn’t feel like anything special since we’re always together 365 days a year, but I’m also most comfortable around them for the same reason.

Sometimes people start bickering with each other when they get too comfortable with one another, but you’re always so kind—like how you gifted BEOMGYU with a nap in that “The Perfect Way to Rest” video when you remembered he was feeling tired. SOOBIN: I think I’m good at picking up on things. I don’t know if I can do it with everyone, but at least with the other members of the group, I’m pretty good at telling how they’re feeling or if they’re not feeling well. As soon as I see one of them, I can tell, Oh, he looks a little rough today, or, He’s sure in a good mood today. (laughs) If they seem down, I go over to them to find out what’s wrong and talk it over.

Your kindness also comes across when you’re with animals, like in the “OUR TOMORROW” video, where you took care of one dog who was so nervous that it didn’t get a chance to eat any treats. Have you always been drawn to people and creatures that are small and left out? SOOBIN: So, so much. In fact, I was really shy and struggled to fit in when I was a trainee. I was really lonely at first. So when time passed and I finally got accustomed to things, if I saw another trainee who was shy and couldn’t adjust, I felt like looking out for them. Kai was among them. (laughs) That’s how I ended up becoming really close with him.

You talked about the cat your sister adopted recently, explaining how it used to be shy because it had a hard life in the past but that it finally opened up this year. SOOBIN: I went to see the cat when my sister first got it, but I couldn’t even see it that first time—it just hid under the couch. It was so shy that I thought I’d never get to pet it, but the last time I saw it, it came right up to me and started purring, wanting to be petted. It was able to overcome its painful past and open up to my family thanks to all the love they show looking after it. Love really does have the power to change anything. (laughs)

You also said on weverse LIVE recently that you made a new friend who you can talk about dramas, movies, and books with. SOOBIN: For me, dramas and movies don’t end with watching them—after you’re done watching, that’s when things are just getting started. I always look up reviews and analyses online. People can watch the same thing and they’ll all have their own thoughts on it, so I’m curious about all those different views, and now I have someone to talk about that with. They know a lot more about books and movies than I do, so I end up learning a lot when we’re sharing our thoughts together. Just having a friend to share my interests with is really fun.

You mentioned talking about Inside Out 2, and you looked at how it features a place to store things you’ve heard that you want to keep for a long time, which got you thinking about what sort of things you would want to hold onto. SOOBIN: I kept recalling things my friends say after we hang out—things like, “SOOBIN, I’m so happy we’re friends,” and, “I feel great whenever I’m with you.” Hearing things like that really touches my heart. Seriously, how often do you get to hear things like that in life? I used to find expressing things like that awkward and weird, but thanks to my friends, I’m getting used to saying I love and appreciate people. You empathized with how Anxiety works harder and feels more anxious than others because they want to be good at things. Are there things you feel you should work harder at than other people? SOOBIN: I’m actually slower at learning choreography compared to the other members. I assumed I’d get a lot better after debuting and regularly performing onstage, but progress was slower than I expected. I didn’t say anything about this before, and I even kept it a secret from the other members, but I actually got separate choreo lessons on the side when we were doing “Chasing That Feeling” and “Deja Vu.” We’d take lessons as a group, and then once I was alone I’d always spend about an hour dancing and working on the little details. I tried so hard with those two most recent songs that I even practiced on my own like that. Seeing as I’m slow, I have to work harder to keep up with the other members. If I have more time, I want to practice more for this comeback, too.

With all the touring you’ve done and the encore performances you have coming up, it must’ve been really hectic getting ready for your Star Chapter: SANCTUARY comeback. SOOBIN: The schedule was really tight this time around—we even had to record vocals in Japan in the middle of the tour since we were in and out of the country—but now that we’re in our sixth year, the five of us were all really fast about things. I could sense that we had grown compared to before since we were faster at recording than we could’ve expected to be in the past and it took us less time to work out the details of the choreography.

The album’s subtitle, SANCTUARY, is a word that’s appeared in TOMORROW X TOGETHER albums before. What’s been your sanctuary these days? SOOBIN: I never used to have a sanctuary, which made getting through tough times hard, but I do now: simple things like working out or reading. It feels like the things that break me away from overthinking and let me immerse myself in something else are my sanctuary.

You were complimented on your previous promotions for your improved vocals and high notes. What about on this album? SOOBIN: Actually, every other album we’ve done had a song in a genre I wasn’t confident in, but not this time. The single “Over The Moon” is really laid-back, and I felt like it was perfect timing for us to try out a song like that. What’s unfortunate is that I caught this horrendous cold during recording. We started practicing for live performances recently, and the director said, “SOOBIN’s singing better than he did when recording. He makes it sound effortless.” So I couldn’t help but think about how much better I could’ve done if only my throat had been in better shape.

You always focus a lot on lyrics. Were there any on this album that have stuck with you in particular? SOOBIN: This album isn’t so much about telling some big, sweeping story as it is about everything we’ve been through together. Now that we’ve been through all that chaos, it’s about the universal emotion of love, which everyone can relate to, and I liked that about it. There’s a line in ��Higher Than Heaven” that sticks with me that goes, “I think I kinda get what forever means now.” I even once said, “I never used to believe in the word ‘forever,’ but I think I can now, thanks to our fans.” I didn’t write that part, but it’s like it was written to perfectly capture my feelings.

The other members have probably had an impact on your belief in the word “forever,” too. SOOBIN: I’m pretty sure we’re going to grow old together and that we’ll be together till the day I die. We do the same thing and basically live the same life day in and day out, so we know what makes each other cry the most during concerts, too. Whether it’s my tears of happiness or BEOMGYU’s tears of disappointment from a leg injury, having friends to understand and share those feelings with is nice. They’re all just really kind people—calm and clear, like a stream. None of us is domineering or splashing around, disturbing the peace, and nobody’s dirtying the water, so I think we’ll be able to stick together for a long, long time.

You said before that you had found being onstage tough while touring. Now that you’ve already wrapped up your third world tour, do you still find that to be the case? SOOBIN: I think I’m getting better over time. I still can’t say that I completely enjoy myself, but the worries I used to have before going onstage have gone away entirely. There used to be times where I found it hard to watch myself onstage because I didn’t like how I looked, but now I see myself up there and I think I look cool. (laughs)

The way you have a different outfit on for every sound check when you’re on tour is definitely cool. SOOBIN: For fans who come even though they’re busy, showing up hours before the concert just to wait, doing it purely out of love, I wanted to be more stylish, so I bought a lot of clothes just for sound checks. The glasses-plus-cardigan combo was something I bought in advance for summer, and the reaction from the audience was amazing! They showed me on the big screen and MOA was screaming their lungs out—like, not the usual “wow,” but, “aah!” Like shock and awe. (laughs) I was worried I went overboard with the look, but they showed they liked it, so I was happy.

There’s no way not to bring up your cover of the Choi Yu Ree song “Forest” when talking about you. You said that the people around you are like tall trees in a forest and that you thought you’re one of them, but that you figured out you’re actually more like the ocean. SOOBIN: It’s easy to find people around me who are better looking and sing and dance better than I do. I actually started thinking about that at Lollapalooza. The other members looked so happy and like they were having so much fun onstage, but I couldn’t. I felt eaten up inside seeing myself not being able to fully enjoy it because of all the pressure. Then I heard Choi Yu Ree explaining that “Forest” is about feeling like you’re not good enough and I thought, “Ah, so that’s what I’ve been going through.” I started to understand my emotions a little bit better. Everyone ends up comparing themselves to others at some point in their lives—it’s unavoidable. And they have times where all they can see are the things they hate about themselves, but it’s ridiculous. I was overflowing with negative feelings when I was working on my “Forest” cover, and I wanted to sort of deal with those feelings and express them.

The music video echoes your thoughts that someday you’ll come to shore and become one with the forest. What does the forest mean to you? SOOBIN: Just being a singer who’s good at singing and dancing, interacting with my fans, enjoying performing, and being able to do it all with complete sincerity. I think I was showing how the forest to me means being happy with the other members when they’re happy. Nothing big—just simple things I’m not always that good at.

Do you feel more like a forest now that some time has gone by? SOOBIN: Umm … I saw a ton of comments from fans after I covered “Forest.” My mindset when I was doing it was, Right now I’m like the ocean, but I’ll become a part of the forest just like you guys—so wait for me until then. But once I saw what fans were writing, I changed my mind and thought, Do I really need to become a part of the forest? I could be similar to the forest, but I don’t have to change myself to be one. My fans kept saying, “The whole reason we liked you in the first place is because you’re like the ocean, not because we hoped you’d become like a forest. If that were the case, we’d like somebody else. Why do you think it was you?” The ocean comes with its own perks, you know. You need to have some ocean near a forest to add to the scenery and have more things to do. Now I think maybe I tried too hard to fit in by trying to be like the forest. Now I feel like I can shine bright just by being myself.

That lines up with what you recently said in an interview you did in Japan when you said that your 20s, the best and most energetic time of life, are dazzling and fun thanks to knowing MOA. What do you think you’ll see when you look back on this youthful period of your 20s? SOOBIN: Joy. Every moment of our lives is packed with good times and bad times, joy and sorrow, but in the end, I think, I’m on a path towards joy. Even things that are so agonizing that you want to die—so bad you feel like the whole world is against you, and so bad you’re certain they’re weighing on you forever, eventually pass.

Doesn’t it almost feel funny sometimes, looking back after all that? (laughs) SOOBIN: Yes. It ends up feeling so trivial somehow. Things that felt massive at the time are like a speck in the distance once you get even a little space between them and yourself. Even after all the hardship I went through being a trainee, I can look back now and see there were a lot of good times. Maybe we tend to romanticize the past a bit? (laughs) Even some of the stuff I’m going through now can be tough, to be honest, but I’m never going to give up. There’s still so much I want to give. The amount of joy I derive from doing this is way higher than the amount of difficulty. I think my life’s amazing, even right now.

So amazing. (laughs) SOOBIN: I think so too! (laughs) As time goes on and I get older, when I look back on my youth, my time with TOMORROW X TOGETHER, I wonder if it’ll look that much more shiny and amazing. Maybe I’ll feel I was even cooler at this time than I feel I am now.

[knottedhearts]

Argument: M.S

Summary: You and Matt are arguing because he's being awfully loud, and you're on your period.

The evening had started off fine. You’d both been sitting in the living room, enjoying a quiet night in. But that peace quickly shattered as Matt’s loud voice carried through the room like a sledgehammer. He’d been talking non-stop about some random topic, laughing at his own jokes and rambling without noticing how overwhelming it was. You were curled up on the couch, trying to get comfortable despite the aching cramps that came with your period. You wanted nothing more than to curl up and zone out to a movie or even just close your eyes for a few minutes of silence.

But Matt’s energy was impossible to ignore. His laughter echoed off the walls, and his voice cut through the air with each sentence. It didn’t matter how much you tried to focus on the TV screen or ignore the noise—it felt like his presence was all-consuming, drowning you in sound.

You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, your lower back aching, your abdomen throbbing. Every movement made the cramps feel worse, and the constant noise made it harder to focus on anything but the pain.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You turned to him, your voice tight with frustration. "Matt, can you keep it down?"

Matt didn’t seem to hear you at first, his energy undeterred by your quiet request. He was too caught up in his own story, too wrapped up in whatever had him so animated. "No, seriously, man, I’m telling you," he laughed loudly, his voice rising as he explained some ridiculous anecdote.

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your cool. "Matt," you said again, this time louder, but with an edge to it. "I’m not feeling good. I’m on my period, and I have cramps. Can you just… lower your voice a little?"

Matt paused mid-sentence, finally catching your tone, but he didn’t seem to understand the seriousness of it. He shrugged, not noticing how you were holding your stomach, trying to soothe the pain. "What’s the big deal? I’m just talking."

You stared at him, the irritation bubbling up like a volcano. "The big deal, Matt, is that I’m literally cramping in pain, and you’re yelling like you’re hosting a damn podcast! Can you show a little consideration?"

He frowned, clearly taken aback. "It’s not like I’m yelling at you. I’m just talking loud because that’s how I talk, alright? You’re the one overreacting."

You could feel the frustration rising, the way the tension in your body was making everything worse. It was hard enough dealing with your physical pain, but now Matt was being dismissive of your need for quiet.

"Overreacting?" you scoffed, shaking your head. "Matt, I’m literally sitting here in pain, trying to get through this, and all you can do is talk at full volume like it’s a damn comedy show. It’s not about how you talk—it's about you being completely unaware of how you're affecting everyone else in the room!"

Matt’s expression turned defensive, his eyes narrowing. "You seriously want me to apologize for how I talk?" His tone was rising now, getting sharp. "I’m not gonna start whispering just because you’re uncomfortable. That’s not my fault."

You felt your jaw tighten, your hands balling into fists. "It’s not about whispering, Matt! It’s about being mindful of the people around you! You never think about how your loud, obnoxious voice affects others. It’s like you don’t even care!"

Matt didn’t back down. "I care! I’m not trying to piss you off. I’m just being me, alright?"

"Being you?" You could feel your patience snapping, the frustration boiling over. "Being you isn’t the problem, Matt. The problem is that you can’t be bothered to understand that people need quiet sometimes, and right now, I need some damn quiet!"

The words hit him harder than you expected. He took a step back, his eyes flashing with irritation. "You think I don’t understand? You think I don’t know you’re having a rough time? But that doesn’t mean I have to change everything about me just to suit you!"

You stood up then, pacing for a moment, the cramps flaring up as you moved, but the anger took over. "I’m not asking you to change yourself, Matt, I’m asking you to be aware of other people’s needs for once. Is that too much to ask?"

"Yeah, it’s too much!" Matt shot back, his voice louder than ever. "I’m not gonna sit here and apologize for talking! Just because you’re dealing with something doesn’t mean I have to tiptoe around you like you’re fragile!"

You felt the tension in the room growing thicker, your chest tightening with frustration. "I’m not fragile, Matt," you said, your voice wavering with a mix of anger and exhaustion. "I just need some goddamn peace. Can you give me that?"

But Matt wasn’t backing down. His voice was cold now, defensive, as though he couldn’t understand why this was such a big deal. "You think I’m just gonna stop being myself because you’re having a bad day? That’s not how it works."

The words felt like a slap, and you finally snapped. "You know what, Matt? Maybe you should just leave me the hell alone!" You threw your hands up in frustration, the weight of the argument crashing down on you.

Matt’s face reddened with anger, his hands clenched into fists. "Fine! You want me to leave you alone? Maybe you should just deal with it yourself, then!"

His words stung, and before you could even react, you spun on your heel and started walking away. "Where are you going?" Matt called after you, but you didn’t stop, walking straight toward the door.

You grabbed your jacket, throwing it on as you walked out of the room, trying to push away the wave of frustration that threatened to overwhelm you. "I need space," you muttered under your breath. You didn’t even know where you were going at first, just wanting to escape, to get away from the noise and the tension.

"Wait," Matt said, his voice softer now, but you didn’t turn around. "I didn’t mean it like that," he called after you, but you kept walking, your heart pounding in your chest.

You didn’t want to hear apologies right then, not after everything that had been said. You just needed a moment alone, away from the noise, away from the confrontation. You didn’t know when or how the two of you would work through this, but right now, all you could focus on was finding some peace.

You didn't know how long you'd need, but you were sure of one thing—until Matt could truly understand the importance of being considerate, the fighting, the noise, and the misunderstandings weren’t going to stop.

[messrmoony71]

Romantic Moonlily - as requested by @sorcave - 1615 words

Sorry, I got a bit carried away and we ended up with wolfstar as well bc I am a weak person. enjoy <3 (or don't, I can't tell you what to do :)

“Hey, lilyflower,” Remus grinned, dropping onto the window seat beside Lily. She immediately leaned towards him, her head resting on his shoulder, her weight against his side. “Tough Monday?”

“I hate Slughorn,” she muttered, legs kicking in the air outside the open window. “He’s creepy and annoying! He constantly checks on my potion and acts surprised when I’m better than most of the class.”

“All,” Remus corrects, taking her hands in his. “Slughorn’s an incapable professor anyway, he doesn’t give us any instructions besides: ‘Lupin stop stirring before your potion explodes!’.”

Lily snorted at his shoddy impersonation of Slughorn’s booming voice and squeezed Remus’ hands. Her eyes drifted to the Quidditch pitch where two figures were weaving through the stands. “Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” She asked quietly.

“James?” Remus frowned. He knew James had a crush on Lily, but he hadn’t been anything but supportive since they got together.

“No, Sirius.”

“Why do you need to be forgiven by Sirius?” His stomach swirled with unease. Lily and Sirius were his two most favourite people and he’d hate to be caught in the middle of a  row, he wouldn’t be able to choose a side.

Lily shrugged, pulling her knees up to her chest and leaning slightly away from Remus. He let him arm drop from where it had come up around her waist and waited for her to speak. “He’s just mad at me. Ever since we started dating. I don’t know why, it’s not like I’ve done anything against him and you spend the same amount of time with each other as you did before.” She let out a long breath. “I don’t know, it just bugs me.”

“I can talk to him if you want.”

“I don’t want to get in more trouble with him.”

Remus frowned and brought his arm up around her shoulders and she fell into his side once more. “Lily, you’re my girlfriend, he’s my best friend. You’re both important to me and I want you to get along. I’ll sort this out, promise.”

*

Remus did not, in fact, sort it out. 

On Tuesday, Lily and Remus were studying together in the Library, silently pouring over History of Magic notes and textbooks, when James and Sirius had come clattering into the Library and thrown themselves in the bench beside Lily and Remus. James leant into Remus side, reading unnecessarily over his shoulder. 

“Ooh, Vampish Rebellions through history, how intriguing.”

“It’s not,” remus sighed. “What do you two want?”

“We need a prank,” Sirius announced, throwing his arms up, knocking an ink pot over that spilt onto Lily’s carefully laid out notes. Sirius didn’t seem to notice, instead launching into an animated rant about Filch and pink dye.

“Sirius, apologise to Lily,” Remus cut in, watching as Lily carefully salvaged as many of her notes as she could. Unfortunately the ink had gotten anywhere. Sirius didn’t seen to hear him and kept planning the prank, now involving Mrs Norris as well. “Sirius,” Remus snapped, and Sirius stopped talking immediately. He glanced down at Lily’s notes.

“Spill you ink, flower? Gonna have to be more careful than that,” Sirius smirked, turning to James to continue his prank planning, since Remus clearly wasn’t interested.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” Remus snapped when Lily abruptly stood up and left the library, her ruined notes still scattered across the table.

Sirius frowned. “What?”

“I cannot believe you!” Remus snarled, gathering his and Lily’s things and hurrying after her.

*

By Wednesday, Sirius had managed to avoid all mention of Lily, even when she was standing next to Remus. It was like she didn’t exist to him and it was really starting to get on Remus' nerves. It clearly got to Lily more than she let on, he’d noticed her nails had been bitten and dried blood often lined the edges.

He decided he needed to properly try.

So by Thursday night, when Sirius still had ignored Lily during a group hangout in the common room, he’d followed the other boy to their dorm. Remus waited by the door, blocking Sirius’ only exit and when Sirius emerged from the bathroom, he jumped, startled that Remus had followed him up.

“Merlin, Moony, you scared me.”

“We need to talk,” Remus said, crossing his arms in a way that he hoped looked serious. 

Sirius tried to act calm, but Remus noticed his face pale slightly. “We’re talking now, aren’t we?”

“Why do you keep ignoring Lily?” Remus asked before Sirius could steer the conversation away. “Frankly, it’s quite rude and it’s getting on everyone’s nerves.”

“I’m not ignoring her,” Sirius huffed, collapsing onto his bed. Remus stalked over so he was standing over Sirius. He was getting mad now. Sirius was acting like a child. 

“Are you determined to make her upset? Angry? Do you want her to break up with me because my best friend can’t keep his shit together?”

“No-“

“Then what is your problem?” Remus shouted, fed up. He hated yelling at Sirius, it caused the other boy to jump every time, but he couldn’t not. Sirius was being a right prick and Remus needed answers.

Sirius didn’t answer right away, only turned his head away from Remus, sitting up with a slight groan. “My problem is you, Remus,” Sirius said, quiet enough that Remus almost missed it.

“Me? Why me?”

Sirius turned to look at Remus again, only this time his eyes were clouded and distant. Remus didn’t like it. He wished the shine in Sirius’ eyes would come back, he hated seeing him sad.

“You always do that,” Sirius muttered. “Act surprised when people notice you.”

“You’re not noticing me, you’re blaming me for something I haven’t done!” Sirius didn’t look at him when he stood up and crossed to the window, his arms folded over his chest, hugging his middle. “Sirius…” Remus sighed and followed his friend, leaning against the wall and studying his profile. “What’s going on?” He asked, gently. He realised now he probably shouldn’t have shouted. It was wrong, but he was desperately trying to fix something before it broke.

Sirius exhaled a long breath, eyes fixed firmly on the mountains past the Quidditch pitch. “You. You’re happening.”

Even more confusing, come on Pads. “Care to elaborate?”

“You.” Sirius turned to him and gestured to Remus’ whole body. “You and your sweaters and cardigans and books and chocolate and honey coloured eyes-“ Sirius cut himself off by pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. When he blinked them open again, Remus guessed he was seeing stars. “You and your kindness,” Sirius continued quietly, staring hard at his feet.

“Sirius…do you…” Remus bit his lip, slowly understanding. 

Sirius hadn’t been mad at Lily, he was jealous of her. Sure, ignoring her wasn’t the kindest thing to do, but it was so undoubtably Sirius of him. Sirius Black had a crush on Remus Lupin. Him. Swotty, uncoordinated Remus who he’d know for almost five years. Remus felt a pang of guilt for not noticing sooner. He could’ve been more sensitive. Since James was obviously smitten with Lily, he felt bad telling him about all the kind things she did, so he’d gone to Sirius instead. He should have kept it to himself. Or gone to Pete. Peter was so in love with his Hufflepuff girlfriend, Eleanor, there was no chance of him being jealous of either of them.

“I like you, Remus,” Sirius said quietly, a tear catching in his lashes. “And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I’m sorry for telling you all about Lily, I should have been more considerate.”

“S’not your fault,” Sirius mumbled, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling, trying not to let any more tears escape. “Should’ve gotten over it.”

“We can keep doing this, blaming ourselves, or, we can talk about what it means,” Remus said gently when he guessed the conversation was about to run in circles.

“What’s there to talk about? You’re dating Lily, you’re going to fall in love-“

“Sirius, stop being destructive. I like Lily, yes, maybe I love her, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be any less of a friend to me. You’re still my best friend and I’m still going to do all the things I did before. I don’t care how smitten you are, I’m still crawling into your bed after a nightmare.”

Sirius’ cheeks bloomed red slightly, but he nodded, letting his eyes fall from the ceiling and settle on Remus’. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I think I might just stay up here for a bit.”

Remus nodded. “Alright. Just holler if you need anything, alright?”

Remus quietly closed the door and tried not to fall down their dizzyingly tight spiral stairs to the common room. Lily looked up when he walked back in, her eyes wide in question. Remus shook his head, talk later, he mouthed, crossing the room to her side. James and Peter had passed out on each other, both snoring softly. Marlene and Dorcas-who had yet to return to her common room-were curled together on the couch, having a whispered conversation involving lots of giggling. Remus resumed the game of chess with Lily, but eventually felt himself slipping into a sleepy daze. Lily notice and pulled him into her lap, her soft hands brushing through his hair. Remus let out a deep exhale and shuffled until he was comfortable on the fluffy rug.

Love you, Lilyflower, his sleepy brain mumbled, unknowing he’d said the words aloud. 

Lily’s hand paused in his hair for the briefest second before she bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. “Love you too, Moons.”

[steddie-island]

Anyway if you have a cat that you just let outside and 🤷🏼‍♀️ when you don’t see it for a few days because “it always comes back” I genuinely hope it claws the shit out of you and that someone then comes up and kicks you in your fucking shins.

[samuraisharkie]

that virtualtoybox person literally told me they aren’t reading what I said and then tried to talk to me w about as much in their tags lol. i never understand people that go ‘I’m not reading all of that but you should read what I have to say” bc like. imagine how infuriated ur gonna get when that response is leveled right back at you? and judging by their tags they didn’t read past my very first line. bc they started comparing animals and animal rights to eugenics which is EXACTLY what I was saying is extremely dangerous to do. That’s exactly how people start calling things that happen to animals a ‘Holocaust’ and I’m positive such a statement is made in that book they told me to read. I’m disabled too. I know what I’m talking fucking about too. In the animal section, I for SURE know more than you do! Because if you knew and truly cared about animals and their welfare, you wouldn’t be talking like PETA. Here’s a trick to other disability activists: learn about animal welfare by volunteering on farms and educating yourself on breeders and the industry rather than getting involved in PETA! And another critical trick: NEVER compare animals to people! That’s exactly what the freaks that think any living thing with a deformity that should die are doing. These people would clutch their pearls the moment they hear farms cull undesirable animals bc they can’t afford to keep every single one and have to streamline their breeding and raising to what will help keep the farm running. That doesn’t mean these farmers want to do the same to people, because the animal is NOT a person and doesn’t live like one. Our lives are not even remotely comparable! People like OP are the people that keep a wild bird with an amputated wing alive bc in their mind it would be insinuating all amputees should die if the bird is put down, and next thing the bird is on the Dodo as inspiration porn. Duex Face is an exception to two headed animals, not the rule. Don’t tell me to do my research when you’re spouting talking points from people that have caused more problems for animals as a whole second only to the commercialization of animal industry. Maybe you need some research (field research) instead! They’re going to block me and I’m assuming that’s why I can’t rb the post anymore even if I wanted to (like I said I didn’t want to start a fight so like. I’m not going to be yelling and acting like an asshole. I swore a bit in the tags initially bc I feel very strongly about how animal rights activists have fucked up disability activism by acting like there’s equivalency in our existences, but that’s not targeted. Most was going to respond telling them that if they feel this strongly they need to be reading more about the animal industry rather than relying on people that are in no way experts on animals talking as an authority on them, and using that to tie with their human rights activism as if animals rights and humans rights are even remotely the same in any way. Whatever though at least the tags are there if anyone who cares enough actually reads them and thinks about them. Will most likely just attract militant vegans and ARAs like the op but whatever)

[largemandrill]

Laios x Marcille is so weirdly popular and also displays how the fandom outside of tumblr has negative media literacy.

[peapod20001]

I like to think that if my tumblr pals came to my house, they’d have a good time

[soarrenbluejay]

Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;

Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.

Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.

So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)

He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.

See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.

And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.

He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.

And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?

But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.

Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.

Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.

Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ messy on a haystack

❥ dbf!logan x fem!reader

having a crush on an older man, your dad’s best friend , was something you never expected.

❥ tags: age gap (but it makes sense), based off of origins wolverine, reader is thick asf (country booty duhh), explicit language, creaming, squirting, breeding kink, pussy drunk logan, mutant awakening, semi-plot—needed him to fuck us asap, logan is a little pervy…

note: up next, fantasize. wc: 2.8k

your dad left the farm’s care in your hands this week, while he took a trip back to his hometown to check on his parents—your grandparents. which means that you were in charge of everything. from the animals, to the wood the men chopped, to the pay and the workers; you were in charge of it all. including him.

logan had known your father for a while, meeting him a few months after you left for college and that was practically six years ago. during that time, logan practically ran the farm with your father—he was his right hand man. everything was running smoothly, the farm had been booming for years. and then your father got sick, changing everything.

people found out about your father’s sickness and tried to get him sell. logan would scare them away most of the time, telling them to fuck off, but then the stress of running the farm started to jeopardize his health even more. so, logan found your number stashed in your father’s office—your dad’s too stubborn and old school to get a cellphone—and gave you a call. you caught the next flight out.

the moment you stepped on the dirt paved roads, everything seemed to perk back up. especially your old man. but, when logan laid eyes on you, he was finally able to see what you really looked like, (your dad kept old photos of you in his office) and he was amazed. you were gorgeous, prettiest lil thing he’d ever seen.

those deep blue flare jeans you wore, hugged you tighter than a grandma during holidays. and he never thought he was an ass man till he seen yours and how it sat in your jeans. and don’t get him started on how you filled out your the cropped white beater—fuck he sounded like a perv. but, it’s been a long time since he thought about a woman like that; and you were everything and then some.

after greeting your dad and explaining to him why you were here, you finally met the mysterious man who called you—and let’s just say he caught your eyes too. he was handsome, the rugged look he adorned was incredibly sexy and the way he would look at you; had your panties wet every night. if someone would hear your thoughts right now, they’d call you weird and tell you that he was old enough to be your father—but thank goodness he was not.

—

“time for lunch boys!” you yelled out to the men hard at work, watching them throw down their things and separate—happy to finally stop working and chow down. you watched as logan sauntered over towards you, standing on the porch; waiting for him to join you for lunch. “hi logan.”

“hey princess, what’s for lunch?” you blushed at the nickname and walked with him to the kitchen, where you had practically went all out. you made a big ole southern meal. you loved cooking, it was your love language. and he loved the meals you’d make.

the two of you sat down and began passing around the various dishes of food you had made, before he sparked up a conversation. “your dad left today, right? what day did he say he’ll be back?” his eyes locked onto yours as he picked the chicken you made, munching on it while he spoke.

“yeah and he won’t be back until…next monday.” he nodded and smirked, tossing back some more of the home cooked food you made. “so then i got you all to myself then?” you nearly choked on your mashed potatoes, eyes wide when you saw him smirking. there was no denying that you heard him, loud and clear.

just as you were about to respond, the kitchen timer went off—signaling that it was time to go back to work. you pouted and he hurried up to scarf down the glass of water beside his food before getting up and leaning over to kiss your forehead, “later princess. I’ll be back tonight.” you watched him leave, heart heavy with love and your mind going crazy with what happened at the table.

you spent the next few hours at the front office, crunching numbers and overseeing where the next shipment of wood was going. the sun going down and slipping past the horizon, made the workers excited as they all wrapped up their work and lined up to clock out. you watched from the porch, as they scanned their manilla colored time cards in front of the clock and headed home.

logan was the last one and when he clocked out, he made his way over towards you. his flannel was torn to shreds and his beater that made his toned torso stick out, was covered in dirt; showing how hard his day went. but all in all, he was still sexy, even when covered in dirt.

“logan~” your voice mimicked a siren, trying to seduce a sailor in by the sexy tone of their voice, while your eyes were low and lidded. he could feel himself grown in his pants from the sound of your voice, his desire for you growing by the second.

“need sumn’, princess?” his voice made you melt and you pressed your thighs together. “shower’s free and i made your bed. ooh, there’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re still hungry!” you smiled at him, trying to suppress a moan when his natural scent hit your nostrils. the smell of woods, hours old cologne and hard work, had your panties wet.

he nodded his head, licking his lips as his eyes traveled down to your thick thighs that were no longer being hidden by denim—before fixtating them back onto your own. “might have to marry ya’ one day.” he commented, planting a kiss on your forehead, before stepping into the house.

letting out a moan, you bit your lip and accepted the tingling sensation that throbbed down below. oh you needed him bad.

logan enjoyed the shower’s hot steaming waters, easing the tension in his muscles and helping him clear his brain. well at least he tried to, his head was clouded with thoughts of you. his best friend’s daughter.

once he stepped out of the shower and put on something comfy, he went down to the kitchen hoping to find you there, however much to his dismay you weren’t. he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. just as he was about to put it his lips, he heard you let out a distressed scream and he took off running.

he could see you in front of the barn doors being harassed by the men that came a month ago, whom tried to get your dad to sell his land. one had a grip on your hair while the other stood in front, taunting you. logan practically pounced on them and his claws unsheathed, slicing them men up.

you back away and watched as they fought, blood splattering everywhere—but that’s not what worried you. what made you worry was when both of the men began to overpower logan—you had to help him. you realized there were some tools in the barn and as you moved to get, you appeared inside in the blink of an eye; grabbing a shovel before appearing right behind the fighting men again.

your mind was pushing out a million thoughts about what just happened, but you didn’t have time to focus on them right now; you had to save him. you swung with all of your might, knocking the men across the field and off of logan. their bodies crashed into other, giving logan ample enough time to pounce on them and fuck them up.

“get in the barn!” he yelled out, slicing them to bits and pieces—and just like before, you appeared in the barn.

–—

you were in there for quite a while, pacing back and forth; wondering what the hell was going on out there. the sounds of his grunting and the slicing of their skin could no longer be heard. you didn’t care what happened to them, they deserved hell or worse, all you cared about was logan.

the doors to the barn creaked open and you eyed it, but you relaxed when you saw him stomping in. your eyes watered at his bloody torso and you sprinted over to him, engulfing him in a hug. “baby, i was so worried about you!”

that nickname rolled off your tongue and he caught it, pulling you back to look at your face. he held you by your chin, puffing up your cheeks, before kissing your soft plump lips—while you gladly accepted his. the kiss was hot and a little sloppy. and when he pulled away from you, a trail spit following.

“been wanting to do that for awhile now. go ahead and take those off, you won’t be needing them,” he tugged on the hem of your shorts and you obliged. you quickly stripped them off along with your sunset colored thong, a web of your essence following. you were beyond soaked and he knew the moment he appeared in the barn, he could smell it.

you sat on a nearby haystack, spreading your legs and your slick coated lips, rubbing your sensitive little love bud. “please logan, wan’ you so bad.”

the lust that had built up over time, had overflowed and erupted; causing a change within you. and he loved it.

he watched with a lust filled glint in his eyes, his cock growing in his sweatpants as he watched you play with your pretty pussy—his desire and longing for you growing by the second. “think you can handle it, princess?” he asked and you nodded, slipping a finger in your aching hole; a sweet mewl leaving your lips.

he then replaced his finger with his fat leaky tip, pressing it right at your entrance; causing you to clamp down on nothing. he grunted and pushed through, stretching you open bit by bit; making you gasp and tear prick at the corner of your eyes.

“ ‘s too big—fuck!” that was an understatement. logan was huge, thick even. he was painfully big, but that’s exactly what you wanted. to be fucked dumb by his big fat painful cock.

“i know baby, but you can take it. yeah? —atta girl” he coached, splitting your cunt open as he pushed through, his tips inches away from kissing your cervix. logan leaned down and kissed away your tears, his cock pressing deep inside of you. he wiggled his hips around, helping you get used to his size and pressing his thumb to your clit; causing you to shudder.

the more he rubbed and he moved, the less pain you felt—and soon you were taking him so well. his cock was coated in your slick, a ring of white started form around his base as he plunged in and out of your wetness. logan watched your tits bounce out of your top with lidded eyes and the animal in him couldn’t help it anymore. his claws unsheathed and wrapped your top open—shredding it completely and freeing your jiggly mounds.

“so fucking—pretty. fuck, my pretty girl taking me so well!” his praises had you gushing all over him, clamping down on him as you started to see specks of white. you had never had an orgasm like this nor have you ever came so quickly before. none of the boys in college made you cum like this. but, that was the difference between logan and them. they were boys and he was a man.

“please don’t stop. please~” you begged, pulling him close while your orgasm flowed out of you. he grunted in your ear and your cunt weeped at the noise, his hips never faltering. “wasn’t planning on it sweetheart.” he moved his head down and took one of your hard nipples into his mouth, sucking on it like he was trying to pull milk from it.

you whined and bucked your hips up to match his thrusts, your clit pressing into him—adding more pleasure to your fucked out body.

you clung to him with each powerful thrust, his hips spanking your ass making a clapping sound erupt through the barn; accompanying your series of moans. your next orgasm approached by the minute, but this one felt different and you lowered your hips trying to back away.

“wait—wait, feels like m’gonna pee—“ but he didn’t budge, he stayed inside of your pussy—still drilling your cunt stilly—and let your nipple go with a pop; a web of saliva followed after him.

“just let go, trust me baby.” he smirked and gripped your hips, hazel eyes dancing over yours. you watched the dog tags around his neck jump with each pump, sending you straight to nirvana. your body shook as you let go, this orgasm different from your last; it was way more intense and you loved the feeling.

a clear stream of liquid splash out of you and onto his low stomach, pushing him out of you—drenching the hay bale beneath you. he slapped his cock onto your sensitive clit, coating himself in your essence.

when you finally calmed down, he leaned down and kissed your lips—hunger laced in it—his hips grinding against yours. and that’s when you realized something. he was still hard. you pulled away and looked at his swollen cock, shiny with your love. “baby, you didn’t get to cum?”

he pecked your lips some more, his tip now laying onto your belly, “just wanted to get you off first. see how pretty you looked when you came on my dick.”

you practically drooled at his words, eyes glued onto his girth that laid on your tummy—small hand fisting it, causing him to growl. “come sit your pretty ass down on my dick and ride me~”.

and that’s what you did for the next couple of minutes, riding him on the hay bale where he just made you squirt for the first time. webs of your messy fluids sticking to his thighs while you bounced and grinded on him—your boobs jiggling all in his face.

logan was losing himself under you, his cock twitching with each movement. he couldn’t wait anymore. he so desperately wanted to let go inside you. wanted to see your belly swollen in a few months with his kid and fuck another one right into you.

he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes and ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed.

you rolled your hips, teasing him while leaning down to kiss him—tongues melting on one another. you pulled away and bit your lip, eyeing him with desire. the way he made you feel had you wanting more and he felt the same way. “take me inside.”

—

the two of you laid on his navy blue sheets, in each other’s arms, after a few more rounds of lovemaking. you toyed with his dog tags while he stared at your pretty face, loving how you looked with the moon glowing on you.

“your dad would kill me if he came back and saw us like this.” he spoke and you looked at him and smiled—getting on top of him and laying down on his muscled body.

“nah, i don’t think so. he’ll know i'm in good hands. ill be with the guy he’s going to sell the farm to, after all.” one of his beautiful thick eyebrows raised in response and you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“read the official letter in his office, he wants to sell the farm to you. im all for it. keep you close so we can have a litter of mutant babies together—now that i am one~”.

now it was his turn to smile and kiss on you. he rubbed circles on your back and pecked more kisses to your plump lips, “you’d look so pretty having my kids, with a ring on your finger and my last name attached to yours. i could see us turning that barn into our house, waking up next to you every day…”

“you can see all of that? you sure the wolverine isn’t a clairvoyant?” you joked and he roared with laughter. you smiled at him, so happy and content with every. so happy that you had to tell him, “i love you.”

his hazel eyes with hints of green widened and his smile became wider, “i love you more, doll.”

[clockwayswrites]

Die Screaming, Live Laughing

Danny/Tim, Cyan, Wind through tree branches/Windchimes @wisteriavines @darkstarsapocalypse (I saw you before you changed that! Twins!)

cw:bar parent fentons, more temporary character death, bones

The faint, mechanical whir under his fingertips as he spins the camera lens comforts Tim. The fiddling is familiar from the years of following Bats and crime across the city. The rooftops of Gotham are an environment that he’s far more familiar with than here. Here is nothing but endless trees and leaves.

Well, somewhere here is also the campgrounds and Bernard, Ives, Steph, and Cass; but that’s far out of sight and almost out of mind. It’s easy, as he listens to the wind rustle through the trees, to feel like nothing exists but the trees and Tim and his camera.

He spins the lens again.

Ostensibly, the four of them are in these woods to find Mothman. Which would be cool! But even Tim, who proposed this whole thing, knows that it’s just an excuse for the four of them to do something away from Gotham. To do something to make actual use of their summer between high school and college.

If Tim went to college, that is.

He’d been accepted, sure, but he… he just didn’t know if he wanted to. It felt like there were more important things to be doing than college. College was sitting in a classroom and listening to someone drone on about a subject that Tim could crash course himself on with the right library access in a month. It also meant new people and new noises and maybe even a new home. None of that sounds great, really. Moving in with Bruce to Wayne Manor had been enough change, thank you very much.

Tim’s foot catches on something and he does a half step to keep his balance. He expects to see a tree root when he glances down. It’s bone instead. That’s not… unexpected. They had already seen deer in the woods, the creatures got stupidly close to the campsite. It would make sense that with the big rains the few weeks before, there could have been old remains uncovered. But there’s something…

The dirt brushes away easily from the surface of the bone and, with a little digging, Tim is able to pull it free of the earth.

This isn’t a deer bone.

Tim knows this shape.

This is human. A femur.

“You have to be careful where you’re walking out here.”

Tim stands and spins, the femur held like his staff would be.

The speaker is leaning against a tree several feet away. The golden, setting sun backlights them, making them look almost angelic with how they’re wreathed in light. They’re hard to look at.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Tim says, plastering on a nervous smile that was only half for show. How did they sneak up on him? That should have been impossible with the leaves and branches scattered across the forest floor. “Do you run into animal skeletons a lot out here?”

“Not really,” they say with a shrug before they start forward towards Tim. Their steps are silent. “I don’t really get around. And also, that’s not an animal skeleton.”

“No?” Tim’s grip on the femur tightens. “How do you know that?”

“How? Well, that’s because it’s mine!”

Tim swings.

The femur goes right through the stranger.

“Sorry! Little intense, I get it!” They back up a step and raise their arms. The dappled sunlight shines right through their hand. Shines right through them like the stranger is just made out of gossamer. “I get it, but be careful with that, please? It’s my arm! Or leg? No, leg.”

“Leg, it’s a femur,” Tim says, his mouth running without him as his brain works.

“Leg. Ancients, I miss having legs. And arms… and, well, anything solid really,” the stranger sighs. “I am sorry for scaring you. Just… it’s hard not to get a little intense when someone is holding one of my bones, you know?”

“Oh shit! That’s right, sorry,” Tim stammers as he hurries to put the femur back down on the disturbed earth. “Do you— I mean, should I rebury it? Did the rains washing away the earth, um, wake you up?”

“Kinda?” They tilt their head as they crouch down next to Tim.

It’s clear now, as they move a bit out of the light, how transparent they are. It’s like in the shadow they lose tangency. Their hair is still just as blinding, being bright white in a way that’s really beautiful. They reach out to touch the femur but stop short.

“I’m tied to my bones. It’s why they dumped them all the way out here. After they killed me, I mean, all the way killed me, I haunted the fuck out of them. And yeah, sure, they could hurt this form of me too, but I always found a way out and then it all started again. Burying my bones was the only way to get rid of me, and those fuckers didn’t even scratch me a headstone in the tree or anything. Some parents, huh?”

“Holy— yeah,” Tim says. Looking back down at the other partially exposed bones he has to swallow back a wave of sadness. “Is that a yes to covering them up?”

“Actually… I’d like you to dig them up. I’m not stupid enough to think I’ll get justice or whatever, but I’d… I’d like to be somewhere proper and under my name.”

“What is it? Your name?”

“Danny.”

“Okay, Danny,” Tim gives a little nod and starts digging. “My friends and I will get you somewhere you feel safe. I’m Tim, by the way.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

Danny doesn’t help dig. He can’t, he explains as Tim and him talk. While his bones are buried, he’s not able to interact with them or else he would have gotten them out of there a long time ago. They learn together that as soon as the bones are free and set gently aside that Danny can touch them.

Tim never thought he’d see someone so emotional over a tibia, but Tim can’t blame the guy. Tim figures he’d be emotional over his own bones too.

The big bones are the easiest. The ribs Tim is extra careful with. The fingers are weirdly like peanut shells in his hand. (He’s not going to eat pb&j for weeks now.) Danny chats the whole time, asking Tim about the world. Tim feels wholly inadequate to catch someone up like that, but when conversation turns to technology Tim settles into a rhythm.

It also lets them figure out that while Danny died just shy of nineteen, he’s apparently spent almost two decades in the ground. He still looks just shy of nineteen. He looks like he should be in the forest for the same reason that Tim is, celebrating the end of one era and the start of the next. Danny should be looking to the future, not mourning it.

It makes Tim pause when he finally unearths Danny’s skull. What would it have been like to see Danny smile? To hear him laugh without that faint echoing quality that he has as a ghost? To touch him?

“I’m sorry,” Tim says and holds out the skull. Danny’s skull.

“Thank you,” Danny whispers. His hands tremble as he reaches out towards the skull. He crumples forward before he can touch it, a sob tearing through him.

“I’ll make sure you’re somewhere nice.

“Thank you.” Danny lets out a breath he doesn’t have and sags forward the last inch. His forehead bumps against the skull.

Then he keeps going forward.

The world explodes into light.

-

“Tim?!”

“Are you sure he’s still alive?”

“You can see him breathing, Bernard.”

“Pulse.”

“Tim!”

Tim gasps awake and blinks rapidly to clear his vision. His friends and sister stand clustered above him. It has gotten dark and their flashlights are blinding.

“You okay?” Cass asks.

“Ow.”

“Yeah, he’s okay,” Steph sighs. “Hey Tim, who the fuck is that?”

“Wha—” Fuck his head hurts. Who the fuck is who?

Oh, the person laying in his arms. The person who’s solid and warm and alive.

Tim starts laughing.

“Okay, maybe a little not okay,” Steph amends.

“Is he ever?” Tim hears Ives mutter.

“Guys,” Tim interrupts them discussing his status once he can breathe again. “This? This is Danny.”

“Being alive again hurts,” Danny mumbles against Tim’s neck and Tim can’t help it, he just starts laughing again.

Being alive does hurt, but fuck if that isn’t wonderful sometimes.

---

AN: So this one got away from me a little but, uh... tada? I was planing to have it all explained more, but once Danny didn't purposefully do it, that didn't fit. Basically all if his frankly absurd powers and as a ghost got jump started by his skull and Tim's lifeforce and tada? 100% pulled some from Tim's Gotham Knights character where he's an awkward little bean who is so not neurotpyical. Him and Bernard taking a vacation to hunt Mothman is from that too.

Anyways, stay delightful, darlings!

[crescenthistory]

hi! i have this really cute idea for regulus x fem! reader. so reader is a animagus and it’s winter time so sometimes she’ll shift into a their animal form, preferably a cat, and goes seek out warmth. but reader is also besties with remus and knows he’s a werewolf, his body temperature runs a lot warmer then anyone else so she goes to room to cuddle. when that happens, regulus immediately knows they reader is with remus and, begrudgingly, goes to gryffindor to steal reader back.

when he gets there, sirius is pouring and complains to reggie that “your girlfriend is stealing my boyfriend” and regulus snaps back by saying “well your boyfriend is stealing my girlfriend” and reader and remus are amused but their bickering but don’t care.

anon. anon. i am giving you the BIGGEST kiss, you don't even know. this is perhaps the best idea i've seen in a while and so i love you. i will be thinking about this throughout all of winter, thank you.

Words: 3k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, references to previous black brothers angst, disgusting amounts of fluff, best friends can cuddle platonically regardless of gender i will fight you on this, background rosekiller and wolfstar, childhood best friend!remus, implied gryffindor!reader, sirius pretends to be jealous but is not

Note: read more about cat!animagus!reader's shenanigans with regulus, wolfstar and james in Sweet Like Honey; Karma is a Cat & Padfoot vs. Whiskers

When Regulus accepted Sirius’ attempt to mend their relationship, he had expected to get his big brother back in full and no more. The person who understands him best, the boy he needed to lean on – it was all he wanted to get out of it. Perhaps he expected to have to grown tolerant of his brother’s friends, but that was something he dreaded, if he at all thought of.

What Regulus had not expected was to be introduced to and fall head over heels in love with you.

Remus’ childhood best friend, the more reserved one of the bunch that he had always seen floating around with them, but whose voice he had never had to roll his eyes at, thus never interacted with. It bewildered him now how he once upon a time barely thought of you, regarded you.

Now he knew you were delightful, and Regulus was positively smitten.

It had been exactly what Regulus had never thought he would get – an easy love. Like your friends, you were open and honest and loyal to the bone, and it spilled over like honey into your relationships with those around you. Once you caught a glance of his clearly lovestruck eyes, you melted, and the puddle was caught delicately in his hands.

Since then, that is where he has held you. In the palms of his hands, close to his heart. He learned more than he perhaps wanted to know about himself during the process of opening up to you, and you showed him a patience he still is not entirely certain he deserves. But you gave him your time, your moments, your touches and your lips, and he received and received without complaint.

When the two most important people in Regulus’ life – one a fervent, natural devotion, another a sassy, passionate rivalry – were in the same hazardous circle of loud-mouthed Gryffindor friends, he eventually had to capitulate that he could no longer just tolerate them. They were family.

God, what love has cost him.

Regulus walked into his dorm room where you have spent more days than not for the past few months, and sighed defeatedly when all he finds there is Barty laying on top of Evan in some odd position that cannot possibly be comfortable.

“Hello to you too, Black. Thrilling to see you.” Barty’s voice was laced with sarcasm, but there was no menace there as of yet.

“Yeah, yeah,” Regulus grumbled as he threw his bookbag onto his bed and sat down. “You seen Y/N lately?”

“You mean since you were all snuggled up this morning? Nah.”

Regulus rolled his eyes painfully hard at his oldest friend, murmuring a soft sod off before tossing whatever was closest – his pyjama t-shirt – in Barty’s general direction, missing by a good metre. He is a seeker and not a chaser for a reason.

“What of it, Reg?” Evan mumbled, but it was distorted by Barty’s elbow being more or less shoved into his mouth. He could never sit still.

“Just figured she’d be here, ‘s all. She finished class before me.” Regulus falls down onto his bed, curls spilling onto the emerald sheets as he stares at the ceiling, picturing you there and then immediately kicking himself for being that down bad. Then reminding himself with the therapy-speech Sirius has been teaching him, love is a strength not a weakness, it’s good to feel your feelings. Yada yada. "It's been a long day."

“Maybe she got tired of your sorry ass.” Barty laughed at his own joke only to be smacked by Evan’s finally-freed hand.

“Or yours, you sod.”

“Nah, Treasure absolutely adores me.” Barty propped himself up to flash you both a grin. “See, unlike you, I’m fun.”

“Interesting word to substitute insufferable with.” Evan said, leaning his face up from underneath Barty, as if to intimidate him.

“You love me,” Barty drawled before kissing the blond soundly.

“Would you guys please stop flirting?” Regulus’ voice was closer to a groan than anything else. He pressed the backs of his hands to his eyes, seeing stars and thinking of you. Stupid poetic feelings.

“Just because you can’t keep track of your girl doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves.” Barty pointed an accusatory finger at Regulus. “I would classify that demand as rude.”

“Bite me.”

“Only if your girlfriend says yes.” This time it was Evan’s turn of tuning into Regulus’ torture.

“And she would.” Barty winks at him.

This time it’s a pillow Regulus throws at them, and it lands perfectly, smack in the middle of Barty’s face.

“Oi!” He calls as he throws it back. “Either you quit it, or you throw me your jumper, it’s freezing in here.”

“You’re literally in bed, Barty.” Regulus looks at him, unamused. “Just–”

He trails off, gaze falling from Barty to the wall behind him as he pieces the puzzle together and realisation dawns on his face. The other boys seem to have caught on as they both cock their heads curiously at him. 

“Of course,” Regulus whispers, first in marvel and then it morphs into something between exasperation and disgust. “Of course.” At last, he gets a determined look on his face, slapping his palms on his knees as he sits up from bed and grabs his jumper to go.

“Excuse you, what just happened?” Barty says, increasingly louder throughout his sentence as he realises Regulus is headed for the door, thick wool jumper tucked under his arm. “Hey!”

Regulus throws the boys a look over his shoulder, smirking at them and shaking his head before shutting the door and walking off. He barely catches Evan’s “shush, you baby, I’ll warm ya” before he is out of earshot.

A man with a purpose and half a plan stalks off, beginning the treacherous journey from the Slytherin dungeons to the Gryffindor dormitories.

What is the single thing Regulus knows can keep you from him when you’re otherwise attached at the hip? The cold.

What is the one person you go to for anything and everything, especially dealing with the cold? A certain ragged boy with a wolfish smile that he knows is to be found only behind the portrait of an increasingly annoying woman.

“Password?” The Fat Lady asked, quirking a brow ridiculously high as she regards Regulus with a mutual disgust.

“Catulus leonis.” Regulus does not bother holding back the eyeroll at the ridiculous passphrase.

She looks at him a moment or five longer than she needs, almost as if considering not letting him in despite his answer being perfectly correct, before she finally swings open the door wordlessly.

Regulus mutters a harsh thank you, Pureblood upbringing having knocked some politeness into him he is just not able to forego, no matter how severe his beef – as Sirius says – with the woman is.

When he finally approaches the offending dorm, the door opens fast enough to knock some wind across his face, and he is met with a set of black curls and a superfluous frown that both match his own.

“Regulus. Thank Merlin.”

“Good to see you too, Siri. How'd you know it was me?”

"Recognised your footsteps. Now, c'mon."

Regulus pushes in past his brother and his eyes immediately find Remus Lupin’s bed. To the unaware, it would just look like the scrawny boy was innocently laying on his bed, head propped against a mountain of pillows and reading another one of his paperbacks.

However, Regulus knew better and could see the perfect girlfriend-shaped lump underneath Remus’ jumper, shielded by his arms as he held his book over his stomach.

Or, at least shaped like this rather specific form of his girlfriend.

“Hello, amour, I’ve been looking for you.” Regulus’ voice is addressed to the bump on Remus’ chest, but he looks up at him with a quirked brow and a smug smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Didn’t know we were on a pet name-basis, Reg. Good to know.” 

“Absolutely not.” Sirius and Regulus chorus at the exact same time, and Regulus fights back the wince at how painfully similar they are in this moment.

“Reggie,” Sirius finally whines. “Your girlfriend’s been stealing my boyfriend for the past two hours. Do something!”

Despite having a very similar sentiment settled in his own chest, Regulus gives his brother a pull yourself together look as he comes up to stand beside him, near the occupied bed. “I’m fairly certain your boyfriend has stolen my girlfriend equally as much,” he tuts.

“Whatever, just do something.” Sirius waves his hand towards Remus’ still very relaxed state with something a bit too close to a pout forming on his face.

“There’s no need to be jealous, Pads, the poor girl’s just cold,” Remus chides, with a teasing glint in his eye that clearly shows he knows his boyfriend is being dramatic for the bit and not actually upset. "Gotta help 'er out."

“‘M not jealous. I’m needy.” Sirius’ deadpan stare is not affected by Remus’ laughter nor Regulus’ barely-contained snort.

“Glad you admit it,” Regulus says slyly, patting Sirius on his shoulder twice, who immediately shrugs his hand off with a scowl.

“Like you’re any better, you slithered all the way up from the snake pit to fetch her. At least I’m open about it.”

Before Regulus has the chance to retort, Remus puts his book down in his lap and reaches out a hand for Sirius, which he immediately takes. “I told you you could come lay in the bed with us, love,” Remus murmurs and swipes his thumb over the back of Sirius’ hand.

If he did not feel the same way, Regulus would have given Sirius hell for how he seemed to absolutely soften in the sunlight of his boy. “Yeah, I know, Moons, I’m just being theatrical.”

Remus laughs once more, and this time his chest rumbling results in a distinct prrrt! coming from the inside of his jumper. Up through the collar, cheek smashed against Remus’, comes the tentative head of beautiful grey-and-white fur and slow-blinking yellow eyes, still riddled with sleep. 

“Good morning, amour,” Regulus coos, ignoring Sirius’ snort as he drops down to squat beside Remus’ bed so his face is lined up with yours.

You pur, stretching beneath the fabric, a single paw escaping beside your head through the collar as you roll over onto your back. Your eyes remained trained on Regulus, and though he knows cats can’t actually smile, he swears you were smiling at him.

“Sorry to wake you, princess,” Sirius drawls as he looks down at you from where he is leaning on the bedpost beside Remus. “But have you seeped up enough warmth for me to get my boyfriend back yet?”

You make a faux hissing sound before ducking your head down, so it’s just barely hidden by the collar.

Remus laughs heartily, setting his book completely away this time so his hand can come up to rest on your cat-form, petting you through his jumper. “It’s alright kitten, take your time.”

The exposed paw lightly hits Remus’ cheek in retaliation, and this time it is Sirius and Regulus’ turn to laugh at his expense. “Ow! I share my warmth with you and this is what I get in return?”

From the movement beneath the fabric, Regulus assumes you’re nuzzling your head against his chest in apology.

“Amour, I brought your favourite jumper of mine and promise to make you so much hot cocoa if I can steal you back. We can be in your dorm room instead of mine, it’s warmer in there, right?” A smile remains consistent on Regulus’ face as he talks to you.

Sirius pats him on the back, murmuring something about you’re so whipped that he doesn’t bother to pay attention to. 

More movement beneath the fabric, and then suddenly your ears are poking out of the neckline again – because why would you make it easy for yourself and use the big exit, when you can squeeze your way through a tight opening? You’re a cat after all.

Remus seems to be thinking the same as he laughs while you attempt to climb out beside his head, soft fur brushing against his skin and making up for the occasional claw you use for traction. 

Regulus attempts to bite back the coos as he sees more and more of you, recognising your movements as sluggish with sleep, no doubt coaxed into it by finally being comfortable.

“Thanks for today, see you again tomorrow, same time?” Remus teases, head turned towards you as you headbutt him lovingly, finally fully escaped from his jumper and standing on his shoulder. He nuzzles you back and scratches your head in goodbye.

Another prrrt! escapes you in greeting as you saunter your way across Remus and plop onto the small strip of mattress on his side where Regulus’ hands are open and ready to receive you. 

“Hi, sweetie,” he whispers as you allow him to scoop you up into his arms while he’s still squatting beside the bed. He holds you like an infant, tight to his body and securely supported. You immediately begin to purr loudly, nuzzling your head even further into his neck and shoulder.

Regulus does not bother to hold back the slight giggle as your caresses tickle him. 

“Good gods, are you two sappy,” Sirius groans, but when Regulus looks up, there is a wide grin on his face. A slightly teasing one admittedly, but a grin nonetheless.

Then, Regulus recognises where Sirius is grinning at him from – properly cuddled up besides Remus on the opposite side of the bed, arms beneath his jumper, soaking up the leftover warmth from you.

“Wait– how did you get there so fast?” Regulus’ voice is almost incredulous, stopping his greeting of you – earning him a harrumphing meow – to narrow his eyes at his brother. “I didn’t even notice you move from beside me.”

“What can I say; I am a dedicated man.” Sirius nuzzles into Remus’ cheek, not much unlike how you were mere seconds ago, albeit his involved a tad many more kisses.

“You’re weird, that’s what you are,” Regulus laughs as he stands up with you in his arms.

You turn around to look up at him with those big, slitted eyes of yours. When you extend your neck further towards his face, Regulus lifts you higher so you can give him the cat-kisses you so evidently wanted, his lips curling at your touch.

Sirius lifts a brow at the two of you. “Yeah. I’m the weird one.” 

Regulus scoffs at him, but when you continue to caress your furry cheeks against his lips and chin, it is difficult for any menace to remain serious.

“Thank you for your deviant supernatural warmth keeping my girlfriend alive, Lupin, but I’d like to steal her away from you now.” 

“By all means, Black, you’ve already stolen her from me once,” Remus harrumphs, pretending to be some scorned faux older brother but his eyes betray his facade; he is happy for you.

Regulus chooses to ignore it nonetheless.

“Brother.” He nods at Sirius. “Soon to be brother-in-law.” He nods at Remus. “We bid you goodnight.”

“Try not to undo all of Moony’s hard work by freezing her right back up with your freakishly cold feet!” Sirius calls after him as he heads towards the door. He then promptly gives out a soft yelp that indicates Remus corrected him in some physical way.

“Goodnight love, goodnight Reg,” Remus calls instead.

“Yeah, bye, doll!” Sirius adds, whispering more to himself, “he’s mine again now.”

You give out a tired meow that is so cute it makes Regulus’ heart clench with endearment. You cuddle properly up into the crook of his neck as he carries you out, softly closing the door behind him with a smile.

He shifts you in his grip so he can look down at you more carefully. “You are so unbelievably predictable. And even cuter than that again, which is saying something,” he murmurs to you and you respond with quiet meows.

He looks at you curiously. “Are you going to remain in cat form the whole night?”

Your tail twitches teasingly, your only other response is a quiet prrt as you close your eyes into the warmth of his neck again. He laughs, covering your feline body with his hands as he carries you, to keep the warmth in.

He sneaks into your dorm – thankfully often unoccupied as Marlene is with Dorcas and Mary is with Pandora – and settles you down onto your plush mattress and pillows. He undresses and gets ready for bed, while you’re resting your head on the pillow, observing him, but just before getting under the covers, he slips on his jumper.

“It’s so soft I could cry, Reggie,” you had whispered to him when you cuddled up to him when he wore it around you for the first time. “I fear I can never let you go now.”

Regulus slides under the blankets with a knowing smile, opening the hem, allowing you to creep under, chest against chest with your head poking out of the collar to rest at the bottom of his neck. 

“I'm no werewolf, but I’ll keep you warm with my love, amour,” he whispered to you in the dark, one hand combing through your fur protectively underneath his own jumper.

He swears, he could hear the little cat snort against his skin.

Regulus fell desperately deeper in love.

[hxney-lemcn]

When You Nerd Out (Biology Edition) — Overblots x gn! reader

summery: the overblots find out you're more of a nerd than they realized...

tw: mentions of bugs (not really but I digress), mentions of arachnids (literally just the name of one lol), mentions of reptiles (idk maybe people are scared of them), mentions of snakes.

a/n: a reptile show is happening soon and I've been looking into so many reptiles/invertebrates/amphibians I had to get this out of my system somehow. What better way then to ramble to fictional characters? (Help me)

wc: 1.2k (~180 per character)

Master List

❥ Riddle Roseheart

When Riddle first met you, you were downtrodden, having just been thrown into a new world filled with magic and flair that yours didn’t. Your grades weren’t the best (but far from the worst), and you always seemed tired no matter what. So when your eyes lit up when he showed you the flamingo and hedgehog cages/pens he was surprised at the amount of facts that spilled from your lips. From how flamingos get their color to how hedgehogs are carnivores. Or how you could even ramble on about flowers and plants, like how tea garden roses are the most short lived species. From then on, Riddle would come to you for even the smallest of things. Did you want to feed the animals with him? This rose bush is wilting, are there any tips to bring it back? Do you know the meaning behind the colors of roses? No particular reason for that last question…just don’t question the bouquet of white and red roses mixed with baby’s breath that show up on your doorstep the next day.

❥ Leona Kingscholar

It was hard not to notice when you seemed to be on the brink of exploding. How you’d stare at awe in Leona’s presence, as you should. But your eyes would always wander to his ears, teeth, tail, nails. It got to a point that he felt like you were mentally dissecting him. It was his downfall to growl out a short “what”, as you started to pile on questions to the beastman prince. “Are your nails sharper than a humans?”, “How much better can you hear?”, “Does your tail help you balance?” All Leona could do was stare at you with boredom. Who knew his herbivore was a nerd? He supposes he could humor you for a little bit. Press his sharp nails lightly into your skin, a teasing smile as he asks if you’d like a test. Perhaps a nibble to show you how well his canines work? It all goes awry when you start taking interest in other beastmen, who cares about the cheetah or leopard bestmen when you have a lion prince right here?

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

Azul never thought twice about where he’s come from. He’s seen many kinds of merpeople, many kinds of fish or crustaceans or sharks. But he knew land dwellers didn’t have that, which is why he has the giant aquarium in his lounge. He got used to the awed expressions as well, more focused on swindling the poor souls. So when your jaw dropped and how you clearly restrained yourself from running up to the giant aquarium, Azul felt giddy. He could offer you something most couldn’t. He’d watch as you’d point out a fish or ray that you saw and explain how much you loved the color or how magnificent it looked. When you brought up how smart you thought octopi are, it was over. His heart couldn’t take it. You know he was an octopus merperson right? You were basically complimenting him without realizing it. He couldn’t get over how you stared in wonder at the blue ringed octopus that was waving back at you. And oh sevens you were giggling at it? He wasn’t getting jealous over another octopus, no way…

❥ Jamil Viper

Jamil noticed the excited look in your eyes when you learned his last name was Viper, but nothing had happened at the time. It wasn’t until Kalim had you rambling about animals did Jamil realize just how much you seemed to love snakes. How you named your favorite in a heartbeat to how you scrutinized the ones you looked into as pets. It wasn’t until Kalim started to offer to buy you all those snakes and more did he have to step in. Yet Jamil felt flustered when your gaze landed on him, your eyes that had been filled with fondness while rambling about snakes had only seemed to get brighter when looking at him. Reluctantly, Jamil let you drag him to a reptile show, something Kalim had pushed him to do. For his own sanity, Jamil ignored the giant pouch of money Kalim tried to stealthily hand you, instead, focusing on your awed expression at the variety of animals. He couldn’t help but watch the snakes in awe with you, and when you asked him if he wanted to help you set up an enclosure for one…who was he to say no?

❥ Vil Schoenheit

Vil is a busy man. With photo and movie shoots to interviews to taking care of himself, there isn’t much time to stop and smell the roses. But with you, he tries to make time, and it's like a breath of fresh air every time. It was nice to sit outside and bask in the sun (with sunscreen of course) and talk with you. Something had clearly caught your eye when you dropped from the bench to scoop something off the ground. Vil thought he knew you well enough…apparently not. He hadn’t expected to see you shove a rolly polly, pill bug, potato bug, whatever you want to call them into his face…okay maybe he’s exaggerating. You held the little thing far enough away that it wasn’t all too startling. He swore he never saw you so excited about something, or how you rambled that they weren’t bugs, but crustaceans that live on land. The way you gently held the critter to how fondly you looked at the curled up thing made Vil’s heart flutter. You always seemed to find beauty in things most would shudder at. How odd.

❥ Idia Shroud

Idia had no idea how you managed, but you had convinced him to get a plant. You had called it a zz plant, and thought it would be perfect to liven his room up as it didn’t need direct sunlight. He watched the plant as it sat next to a grow light, it needed something since he didn’t have any windows. The dark purple leaves were pretty, you were right. As much as he tried to keep up with watering, he would forget, but Ortho seemed to have it covered. When little leaves started sprouting, Idia felt proud, a weird feeling he wasn’t used to. When you came over and saw how well it was doing you beamed. That stupid fluttery feeling filled him as you praised him, not to mention it mixing with feeling proud. Not a good combo, as now he was thinking of asking you if there’s any other plant you may recommend, just to get you rambling once more about different plants that could thrive in his little cave of a room.

❥ Malleus Draconia

Although Malleus loves to hear your voice, you always seem content to hear him ramble. The way your eyes watched intently, trying to find what he was pointing out on a gargoyle, or how you’d ask questions about the differences of a gargoyle and grotesque. At first, he was concerned when you gasped, had you gotten hurt somehow? Yet he found you excitedly pointing out a house gecko that stood near the gargoyle he was talking about. He watched you in awe as your eyes glittered, and how you were basically jumping up and down. Then you started going on about geckos, reptiles, and all sorts of odd things people keep as pets. The way you basically swooned at the thought of owning a crested gecko or a crocodile skink, Malleus was ready to hand you all the money you needed. He is the best and worst, as he’ll never tell you no and fund your hobby till your heart’s content. Just make sure to pay attention to him too, yeah? Unlike skinks or tarantula’s, he likes your affection. Plus, he’s the best reptile of them all, no? He’d gladly show you his dragon form.

[creatingblackcharacters]

“The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth” - Violence, Violent Imagery & Black Horror

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of death, violence, blood, hate crimes, antiblackness, police violence, rape

Note! I am going to be speaking from a Black American point of view, as my identity informs my experience. That said, antiblackness itself is international. The idea of my Blackness as a threat, as a source of fear and violence to repress and to destroy, is something every Black person in the world that has ever dealt with white supremacy has experienced.

There are two things, I think, that are important to note as we start this conversation.

One: there is a long history of violence towards Black bodies that is due to our dehumanization. People do not care for the killing of a mouse in the way they care about a human. But if you think the people you are dealing with are not people, but animals- more particularly, pests, something distasteful- then you will be able to rationalize treating them as such.

Two: even though we live in a time period where that overt belief of Blackness as inhuman is less likely, we must recognize that there are centuries of belief behind this concept; centuries of arguments and actions that cement in our minds that a certain amount of violence towards Blackness is normal. That subconscious belief you may hold is steeped in centuries of effort to convince you of it without even questioning it. And because of this very real re-enforcement of desensitization, naturally another place this will manifest itself is in how we tell and comprehend stories.

There are also three points I'm about to make first- not the only three that can ever be made, but the ones that stand out the most to me when we talk about violence with Black characters:

One: Your Black readers may experience that scene you wrote differently than you meant anyone to, just because our history may change our perspective on what’s happening.

Two: The idea that Black characters and people deserve the pain they are experiencing.

Three: The disbelief or dismissal of the pain of Black characters and people.

You Better Start Believing In Ghost Stories- You’re In One

I don’t need to tell Black viewers scary fairytales of sadists, body snatchers and noncoincidental disappearances, cannibals, monsters appearing in the night, and dystopian, unjust systems that bury people alive- real life suffices! We recognize the symbolism because we’ve seen real demons.

Some real examples of familiar, terrifying stories that feel like drama, but are real experiences:

12 Years a Slave: “This is no fiction, no exaggeration. If I have failed in anything, it has been in presenting to the reader too prominently the bright side of the picture. I doubt not hundreds have been as unfortunate as myself; that hundreds of free citizens have been kidnapped and sold into slavery, and are at this moment wearing out their lives on plantations in Texas and Louisiana.” – Solomon Northup

When They See Us: I can’t get myself to watch When They See Us, because I learned about the actual trial of the Central Park Five- now the Exonerated Five- in my undergrad program. Five teen Black and brown boys, subjected to racist and cruel policing and vilification in the media- from Donald Trump calling for their deaths in the newspaper, to being imprisoned under what the Clintons deemed a generation of “superpredators” during a “tough on crime” administration. And as audacious as it is to say, as Solomon Northup explained, they were fortunate. The average Black person funneled into the prison system doesn’t get the opportunity to make it back out redeemed or exonerated, because the system is designed to capture and keep them there regardless of their innocence or guilt. Their lives are irreparably changed; they are forever trapped.

Jasper, Texas: Learning about the vicious, gruesome murder of James Byrd Jr, was horrific- and that was just the movie. No matter how “community comes together” everyone tells that story, the reality is that there are people who will beat you, drag you chained down a gravel road for three miles as your body shreds away until you are decapitated, and leave your mangled body in front of a Black church to send a message… Because you’re Black and they hate you. To date I am scared when I’m walking and I see trucks passing me, and don’t let them have the American or the Confederate flag on them. Even Ahmaud Arbery, all he was doing was jogging in his hometown, and white men from out of town decided he should be murdered for that.

Do you want to know what all of these men and boys, from 1841 to 2020, had in common? What they did to warrant what happened to them? Being outside while Black. Some might call it “wrong place wrong time”, but the reality is that there is no “right place”. Sonya Massey, Breonna Taylor- murdered inside their home. Where else can you be, if the danger has every right to barge inside? There is no “safe”.

It is already Frightening to live while Black- not because being Black is inherently frightening, but because our society has made it horrific to do so. But that leads into my next point:

“They Shouldn’t Have Resisted”

Think of all the videos of assaulted and murdered Black people from police violence. If you can stomach going into the comments- which I don’t, anymore- you’ll see this classic comment of hate in the thousands, twisting your stomach into knots:

“if they obeyed the officer, if they didn’t resist, this wouldn’t have happened”

Another way our punitive society normalizes itself is via the idea of respectability politics; the idea that “if you are Good, if you do what you are Supposed to do, you will not be hurt- I will not have to hurt you”. Therefore, if my people are always suffering violence, it must be because we are Bad. And in a society that is already less gracious to Black people, that is more likely to think we are less human, that we are innately bad and must earn the right to be exceptional… the use of excessive violence towards me must be the natural outcome. “If your people weren’t more likely to be criminals, there wouldn’t be the need to be suspicious of you”- that is the way our society has taught us to frame these interactions, placing the blame for our own victimization on us.

Sidebar: I would highly suggest reading The New Jim Crow, written in 2010 by Michelle Alexander, to see how this mentality helps tie into large scale criminalization and mass incarceration, and how the cycle is purposely perpetuated.

You have to constantly be aware of how you look, walk and talk- and even then, that won’t be enough to save you if the time comes. The turning point for me, personally, was the murder of Sandra Bland. If she could be educated, beautiful, a beacon of her community, be everything a “Good” Black person is supposed to be… and still be murdered via police violence, they can kill any of us. And that’s a very terrifying thought- that anything at any point can be the reason for your death, and it will be validated because someone thinks you shouldn’t have “been that way”. And that way has far less to do with what you did, than it does who you are. Being “that way” is Black.

My point is, if this belief is so normalized in real life about violence on Black bodies- that somehow, we must have done something to deserve this- what makes you think that this belief does not affect how you comprehend Black people suffering in stories?

Hippocratic Oath

Human experimentation? Vivisection? Organ stealing? Begging for medicine? Dramatically bleeding out? Not trusting just anyone to see that you are hurt, because they might take advantage? All very real fears. The idea that pain is normal for Black people is especially rampant in the healthcare field, where ideas like our melanin making our skin thick enough to feel less pain (no), an overblown fear of ‘drug misuse’, and believing we are overexaggerating our pain makes many Black people being unwilling to trust the healthcare system. And it comes down to this thought:

If you think that I feel less pain, you will allow me to suffer long before you believe that I am in pain.

I was psychologically spiraling I was in so much pain after my wisdom teeth removal, and my surgeon was more concerned about “addiction to the medication”. Only because Hot Chocolate’s mom is a nurse, did I get an effective medicine schedule. My mother ended up with jaw rot because her surgeon outright claimed that she didn’t believe that she was in more than the ‘healing’ pain after her wisdom teeth were removed. She also has a gigantic, macabre (and awesome fr) scar on her stomach from a c-section she received after four days of labor attempting to have me… all because she was too poor and too Black to afford better doctors who wouldn’t have dismissed her struggles to push.

As a major example of dismissed Black pain: let’s discuss the mortality rate of Black women during childbirth, as well as the likelihood of our children to die. When we say “they will let you bleed to death”, we mean it.

“Black women have the highest maternal mortality rate in the United States — 69.9 per 100,000 live births for 2021, almost three times the rate for white women, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Black babies are more likely to die, and also far more likely to be born prematurely, setting the stage for health issues that could follow them through their lives.”

Even gynecology roots in dismissal (and taking brutal advantage of) Black women's pain:

“The history of this particular medical branch … it begins on a slave farm in Alabama,” Owens said. “The advancement of obstetrics and gynecology had such an intimate relationship with slavery, and was literally built on the wounds of Black women.” Reproductive surgeries that were experimental at the time, like cesarean sections, were commonly performed on enslaved Black women. Physicians like the once-heralded J. Marion Sims, an Alabama doctor many call the “father of gynecology,” performed torturous surgical experiments on enslaved Black women in the 1840s without anesthesia. And well after the abolition of slavery, hospitals performed unnecessary hysterectomies on Black women, and eugenics programs sterilized them.”

If you think Black characters are not in pain, or that they’re overexaggerating, you’re more likely to be okay with them suffering more in comparison to those whose pain you take more seriously- to those you believe.

What’s My Point?

My point is that whatever terrifying scene you think you’re writing, whatever violent whump scenario you think you’re about to put your Black characters through, there’s a chance it has probably happened and was treated as nonimportant (damn shame, right?) And when those terrifying scenes are both written and read, the way their suffering will be felt depends on how much you as a reader care, how much you believe they are suffering.

There’s a joke amongst readers of color that many dystopian tales are tales of “what happened if white people experienced things that the rest of us have already been put through?” Think concepts like alien invasion and mass eradication of the existing population- you may think of that as an action flick, meanwhile peoples globally have suffered colonization for centuries. The Handmaid’s Tale- forced birthing and raising of “someone else’s” children, always subject to sexual harassment by the Master while subject to hate from the Mistress- that’s just being a Mammy.

There’s nothing wrong with having Black characters be violent or deal with violence, especially in a story where every character is going through shit. That is not the problem! What I am trying to tell you, though, is to be aware that certain violent imagery is going to evoke familiarity in Black viewers. And if I as a Black viewer see my very real traumas treated as entertainment fodder- or worse, dismissed- by the narrative and other viewers, I will probably not want to consume that piece of media anymore. I will also question the intentions and the beliefs of the people who treat said traumas so callously. Now, if that’s not something you care about, that’s on you! But for people who do care, it is something we need to make sure we are catching before we do it.

“So I just can’t write anything?!”

Stop that. There are plenty of examples of stories containing horror and violence with Black characters. There’s an entire genre of us telling our own stories, using the same violence as symbolism. I’m not telling you “no” (least not always). I’m telling you to take some consideration when you write the things that you do. There’s nothing wrong about writing your Black characters being violent or experiencing violence. But there is a difference between making it narratively relevant, and thoughtlessly using them as a “spook”, a stereotypical scary Black person, or a punching bag, especially in a way that may invoke certain trauma.

The Black Guy Dies First

The joke is that we never survive these horror movies because we either wouldn’t be there to begin with, or because we would make better decisions and the narrative can’t have that. But the reality is just that a lot of writers find Black characters- Black people- expendable in comparison to their white counterparts, and it shows. More of a “here, damn” sort of character, not worth investment and easy to shrug off. The book itself I haven’t read, just because it’s pretty new, but I’m looking forward to doing so. But from the summaries, it goes into horror media history and how Black characters have fared in these stories, as well as how that connects to the society those characters were written in. I.e., a thorough version of this lesson.

Instead, I wrote an entire list of questions you could possibly ask yourself involving violence or villainy involving a Black character. Feel free to print it and put it on your wall where you write if you have to! I cannot stress enough that asking yourself questions like these are good both for your creation and just… being less antiblack in general when you consume media.

Black Horror/Black Thriller

We, too, have turned our violent experiences into stories. I continue to highly suggest watching our films and reading our stories to see how we convey our fear, our terror, our violence and our pain. There are plenty of stories that work- Get Out, The Angry Black Girl and her Monster, Candyman, Lovecraft Country (the show) and Nanny are some examples. There’s even a blog by the co-writer of The Black Guy Dies First who runs BlackHorrorMovies where he reviews horror movies from throughout the decades.

Desiree Evans has a great essay, We Need Black Horror More Than Ever, that gets into why this genre is so creative and effective, that I think says what I have to say better than I could.

“Even before Peele, Black horror had a rich literary lineage going back to the folklore of Africa and its Diaspora. Stories of haints, witches, curses, and magic of all kinds can be found in the folktales collected by author and anthropologist Zora Neale Hurston and in the folktales retold by acclaimed children’s book author Virginia Hamilton. One of my earliest childhood literary memories is being entranced by Hamilton’s The House of Dies Drear and Patricia McKissack’s children’s book classic The Dark-Thirty: Southern Tales of the Supernatural, both examples of the ways Black authors have tapped into Black history along with our rich ghostlore.” “Black horror can be clever and subversive, allowing Black writers to move against racist tropes, to reconfigure who stands at the center of a story, and to shift the focus from the dominant narrative to that which is hidden, submerged. To ask: what happens when the group that was Othered, gets to tell their side of the story?”

For on the nose simplicity, I’m going to use hood classic Tales From The Hood (1994) as an example of how violence can be integrated into Black horror tales. Tales From The Hood is like… The Twilight Zone by Black people. Messages discussing issues in our community, done through a mystical twist. Free on Tubi! If you want to stop here before some spoilers, it’s an hour and a half. A great time!

In the first story, a Black political activist is murdered by the cops. The scene is reflective of the real-world efforts to discredit and even murder activists speaking out against police violence, as well as the types of things done to criminalize Black citizens for capture. The song Strange Fruit plays in the background, to drive the point home that this is a lynching.

The second story deals with a Black little boy experiencing abuse in the home, drawing a green monster to show his teacher why he’s covered in wounds and is lashing out at school.

The fourth story is about a gangbanger who undergoes “behavioral modification” to be released from prison early. Think of the classic scene from A Clockwork Orange. He must watch as imagery of the Klan and of happy whites lynching Black bodies (real-life pictures and video, mind you!) play into his mind alongside gang violence.

Isn’t Violence Stereotypical or antiblack?

That last story from Tales From The Hood leads into a good point. It can be! But it does not have to be! Violence is a human experience. By suggesting we don’t experience it or commit it, you would be denying everything I’ve just spoken about. We don’t have to be racist to write our Black characters in violent situations. We also don’t have to comprehend those situations through a racist lens.

Even experiences that seem “stereotypical” do not have to be comprehended that way. I get a LOT of questions about if something is stereotypical, and my response is always that it depends on the writing!!! You could give me a harmless prompt and it becomes the most racist story ever once you leave my inbox. But you could give me a “stereotypical” prompt and it be genuine writing.

Let’s take the movie Juice for example. Juice in my honest to God opinion becomes a thriller about halfway in. On its surface, Juice looks like bad Black boys shooting and cursing and doing things they aren’t supposed to be doing! Incredibly stereotypical- violent young thugs. You might think, “you shouldn’t write something like this- you’re telling everyone this is what your community is like”. First- there’s that respectability politics again! Just because something is not a “respectable” story does not mean it doesn’t need to be told!

But if we’re actually paying attention, what we’re looking at is four young boys dealing with their environment in different ways. All four of them originally stick together to feel power amongst their brotherhood as they all act tough and discover their own identities. They are not perfect, but they are still kids. In this environment, to be tough, to be strong, you do the things that they are doing. You run from cops, you steal from stores, you mess with all the girls and talk shit and wave weapons. That’s what makes you “big”. That’s what gives you the “juice”- and the “juice” can make you untouchable.

I want to focus particularly on Bishop, yes, played by Tupac. Bishop, the antagonist of Juice, is particularly powerless, angry, and scared of the world around him. He puts on a big front of bravado, yelling, cursing, and talking big because he’s tired of being afraid, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it otherwise. So when he gets access to a gun- to power- he quickly spirals out of control. His response to his fear is to wave around a tool that makes him feel stronger, that stops the things that scare him from scaring him.

Now, that is not a unique tale! That is a tale that any race could write about, particularly young white men with gun violence! If you ever cared for Fairuza Balk’s character in The Craft, it is a similar fall from grace. But because it is on a young, Black man in the hood, audiences are less likely to empathize with Bishop. And granted, Bishop is unhinged! But many a white character has been, and is not shoved into a stereotype that white people cannot escape from!

Now would I be comfortable if a nonblack person attempted to write a narrative like Juice? Yes, because I’d worry about the tendency to lose the messaging and just fall into stereotype outright. But it can be done! The story can be told!

“But if Black violence bad, why rap?”

The short answer:

“In order for me to write poetry that isn’t political, I must listen to the birds, and in order to hear the birds, the warplanes must be silent.”

Marwhan Makhoul, Palestinian Poet

First, rap is not “only violence and misogyny”. Step your understanding of the genre up; there are plenty of options outside of the mainstream that don’t discuss those things. Second, every genre of music has mainstream popular songs about vice and sin. The idea that Black rappers have to be held to a higher standard is yet another example of how we are seen as inherently bad and must prove ourselves good. We could speak about nothing but drugs and alcohol and 1) there would still be white artists who do the very same and 2) we would still deserve to be treated like humans.

That said, many- not all- rappers rap about violence for the same reason Billy Joel wrote We Didn’t Start the Fire, the same reason Homer first spoke The Iliad- because they have something to say about it! They stand in a long tradition of people using poetry and rhythm to tell stories. Rap is an art of storytelling!

Rap is often used as an expression of frustration and righteous anger against a system built to keep us trapped within it. I’m not allowed to be angry? Why wouldn’t I be angry? Anger is a protective emotion, often when one feels helpless. Young Black people also began to reclaim and glorify the violence they lived in within their music, to take pride in their survival and in their success in a world that otherwise wanted them to fail. If I think the world fights against me no matter what I do, I’d rather live in pride than in shame with a bent head. Is it right? Maybe, maybe not. But if you don’t want them to rap about violence, why not alleviate the things leading to the violence in their environment?

Whether you choose to listen to their words, because the delivery scares you- and trust, angry Black men scared the music industry and society- doesn’t make the story any less valid!

Conclusion

I am going to drop a classic by Slick Rick called Children’s Story. I think listening to it- and I mean genuinely listening- summarizes what I’ve said here about how Black creators can tell stories, even violent ones, and how even the delivery through Blackness can change how you perceive them. Please take the time to listen before continuing.

I’ve been alive for 28 years and have known this song my whole life, and it just hit me tonight: not once is the kid in this story identified as Black! My perception of this story was completely altered by my own experiences, who told the story, and how it was told.

That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You can tell stories of violence that involve Black characters. I love and adore a good hurt/comfort myself! But you need to be cognizant of your audience and how they’ll perceive the story you’re telling, and that includes the types of imagery you include. It’s not effective catharsis via hurt/comfort for the audience if your Black readers are being completely left out of the comfort. “I wrote this for myself” that’s cool, but… if you wrote racism for yourself, and you’re willing to admit that to yourself, that’s on you. I’d like to think that’s not your intention! You can write these stories of woe and pain without mistreating your Black characters- but that requires knowing and acknowledging when and how you’re doing that!

@afropiscesism makes a solid point in this post: our horror stories are not just fairytales full of amorphous boogiemen meant to teach lessons. Racial violence is very real, very alive, and we cannot act like the things we write can be dismissed outright as “oh well it’s not real”. Sure, those characters aren’t real. But the way you feel about Black bodies and violence is, and often it can slip into your writing as a pattern without you even realizing it. Be willing to get uncomfortable and check yourself on this as you write, as well as noticing it in other works!

If you’re constantly thinking “I would never do this”, you’ll never stop yourself when you inevitably do! If you know what violent imagery can be evoked, you can utilize it or avoid it altogether- but only if you’re willing to get honest about it. You might not intend to do any of this, but it doesn’t matter if you don’t change the pattern, because as always, it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[ruleofheart]

growing pains — ellie williams

ellie williams x f reader

7k

fluff, angst, smut >O<

ellie if nothing bad happened to her ever, childhood friends to acquaintances(?) to lovers, longing, joel is involved, ellie is a DWEEB! but so are you, car sex, classic misunderstandings

to the lovely folks that asked to be tagged, i hope this meets your expectations… i am terrified of failing you: @macaroni676 @d3sperationn @g3latin

beta read by @heartofrhea my best friend my apologies for being cringelord

The universe can be so cruel. 

You sit at the edge of the curb, curling your legs to yourself to feel less vulnerable. Your phone rolls in your hand, tears of frustration prickling at your eyes. You probably should’ve known better. Well— you do know better. That sinking, intuitive feeling had been swirling in the center of your stomach all night, but you had let your desperation and loneliness take ahold of you. 

You had agreed to go out with some friends and some friends of friends; people you didn’t know jackshit about, but hung out with anyway. You had hoped you didn’t reek of seclusion too bad, feeling like a wounded animal in a crowd of predators. 

But your friends and their friends didn’t really care. They had pulled away from you in the club, losing you to flashing lights and crowded bodies. You searched up and down, called their names in the dingy bathrooms, and even asked the bartender. No dice; you were here to party alone. Now what was the point of even coming along?

Silly.

You initially opted to order an Uber to just get the fuck off the street already, but hey— it’s a Friday night and finals are over. The prices listed cost more than six different coffee runs, and there’s no way you’d be giving those up. 

It’s how you end up sitting on the curb and fervently wiping your tears away, cringing when you remember your hands had been touching all the club door handles and god knows what else. You feel dirty, forgotten. 

You unlock your phone and dim the brightness— the stupid thing almost all out of battery— and turn to what seems to be a last resort, an option that you’ve buried away at the back of your mind for years now.

Pressing your phone to your ear, you can’t help but sigh as the line rings repeatedly, almost positive that you’re completely out of luck. 

It falls silent for a second before there’s faint rustling on the other side, and a voice so familiar, so painful to hear, questions you softly. 

“Ellie,” you say breathlessly; from fatigue or relief, you’re not sure anymore. “Can you come get me?” 

Becoming friends with Ellie Williams was almost too easy. 

That’s just how she is as a person. So easy to be around; her voice and twinkling laugh showing no threat. 

It began with Mrs. Sullivan’s freshman class seating chart; a table of four with you, Ellie, and two other boys who were too preoccupied with copying off each other’s notes half the time for you to even remember their names. You mostly kept to yourself as a weird adolescent, the onslaught of teenage hormones and emotions forcing you into your own little world. 

Ellie, on the other hand, was different. She had noticed the front page cover of Savage Starlight slipped into the front sleeve of your binder, the edges frayed and jagged as if you had actually ripped it off. She was almost offended at the sight of such a careless pull, but found the emotion wavering once she realized you read the comics just like her. 

“Hey! No way!” she had exclaimed with a growing smile, her eyes lit up. She had half a mind to just reach over and take your binder, fingers skimming over the glossy cover. She stopped herself mid-way, mind racing before she asked with just as much glee, “Can I see? I don’t think I’ve been able to get ahold of that edition yet.” 

Your short-lived conversations about Savage Starlight began to transform into lunchroom giggle sessions and bike rides on the way home. She was so easy to fall into; it was almost like she had a part of herself that was reserved just for you, eager for your arrival.

The thing about your dynamic was that it was so intricately woven over time, each thread of yourself intertwining with her own as you came to know each other better. Unabashed adoration and excitement with every laugh, with every moment of eye contact across the classroom and dinner table at home: a twinkle of unwavering youth and closeness.

And the thing was, when it came to you, Ellie was not prideful at all. She would openly admit any given moment that there had to be a hole in her heart that was in the shape of you. The two of you fit so nicely in each other’s lives, slipping into a familiar rhythm that almost seemed karmic, even at such a young age. While you were surrounded by other girls your age navigating their own pent up emotions and typical coming-of-age realizations, turning against each other and whispering dirty secrets, Ellie only seemed to cling onto you— hanging onto your every word with sincerity and trust.

It didn’t take long before Ellie began to invite you over to sleepovers, which was new territory for both her and Joel. He was already a little awkward as-is, navigating life with a teenage girl who had the same foul mouth and temperament as he.

So when you came around, greeting him with little smiles and kind language, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sway in relief, happy that Ellie has someone like you in her life. 

You’d tumble off your bikes, leaving them strewn across the front yard, crushing the grass he labored so hard over. But he didn’t mind, relieved to see the two of you arrive in one piece, losing yourself in video game releases and comic book pages as you both sat in her bedroom. 

Joel became a sort of fly on the wall for you two, ever-present as you were fairly comfortable in their home. Tuning the both of you in and out, listening closely for anything that may alarm him (which, never happened). Sitting across the both of you at the dinner table, serving up a quick and easy bowl of Hamburger Helper to you two. He’d glance at the two of you from under his eyelashes, watching how either you or Ellie would lean into each other as you splayed out homework sheets on the table, muttering to each other in curiosity. The two of you may have been better off sharing a single chair, he’d think to himself in amusement. 

Again, your presence in Ellie’s life and in his home never worried him. It became routine for him as well, watching the two of you bike up the block together almost every day after school. 

One hot summer afternoon, he stood on the porch, prying off the entrance screen door in an attempt to replace it, the critters from the greenbelt nearby winning at their efforts to nibble away at the material. 

From afar, he could hear the growing sound of your chattering, your bike chains clicking repeatedly as you breezed down the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as you two fought amicably, reaching out to each other in a playful attempt to push the other off their bike. He chuckled to himself and turned his gaze back to the screen door, fingers prying at the edges. 

Behind him, Ellie reached a little too far to the side, fingers brushing against your arm before she toppled over sideways off her bike. She collapsed with a laugh-yelp, swearing at you in a way that made you burst out laughing, your shoes dragging across the concrete to stop your bike. 

You hopped off your seat, carelessly letting it fall to the side as you approached Ellie, laughing at her as she pushed herself off the ground. 

“You idiot,” you breathed out in between laughs, nearly folding in on yourself as the incident repeated in your mind. 

“Dude!” she scolded lightheartedly, trying to feign annoyance, and of course failing. She stuck out her arm to show you a deep scrape right above her elbow. “This shit burns.” 

You caught your breath and stepped closer, eyeing the scrape. It was rather gnarly, and you inwardly winced at yourself knowing it was probably going to scab horribly.

“Damn,” you muttered to yourself, holding her arm and twisting it to get a better look. Joel eyed the way you two interacted, pulling away from his task as he glimpsed the bloody splotch on Ellie’s elbow. 

From where he was, he couldn’t exactly make out the words that you two exchanged, your voices lowered significantly. From the look of it, you were offering an apology. He didn’t catch the way you smiled up at her apologetically, but he was positive that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him when you leaned in and placed a harmless, healing kiss onto her arm, right above the scrape.

It was, in reality, lighthearted and childish. A testament to your playfulness, your eagerness to please Ellie’s heart. 

And although Ellie didn’t realize it, there was a flicker of emotion that crossed her face. A change in her eyes; in the way that she looked at you. It flew over your head, too; busy smiling up at her, pulling her closer with the strength of the sun’s gravity. 

But Joel noticed. He caught this sudden change, this glimmer on Ellie’s face. He felt the complexities of youth and new emotion washing over him again, a short chuckle leaving his lips as he turned away, focusing back on fixing the screen door. 

Later that night, he pulled Ellie aside. 

“Hey, kid. I’m gonna need you to keep the door open when she’s around, alright?”

“What?” Ellie asked, utterly oblivious. A look of distaste flittered across her features. 

He was trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, knowing all too well that if he pushed too hard or looked too stern, Ellie would just defy him out of her own stubborn nature. He folded some blankets over the couch, eyes avoiding hers. “Just keep it open, Ellie.” 

She groaned in annoyance and threw her head back, hands falling to her sides. She looked truly exasperated, confused with this sudden change in house rules. 

That night, as the door remained cracked open, Joel walked by Ellie’s bedroom to sort some towels in the hallway closet. His ears picked up her frustrated tone; “…wants me to leave the door open now. Never heard of a rule as stupid as that, but whatever.” 

You giggled calmly, then fell silent for a second. “It’s okay. My mom has that rule too, for my brother and his girlfriend.” 

And he could almost hear the way Ellie’s face scrunched up, a confused groan escaping her again. She failed to reply, and the topic at hand was dropped as soon as you leaned over to her and showed her a page from a new comic, rambling on about how the plot hole in this series was diabolical. 

He silently walked away, mind wandering as he tried to think about how to approach this blooming situation, a flicker of both hope and protection illuminating in his chest. 

It was junior year of high school when the foundation of your friendship began to split, allowing something else to slip into it. Something sneaky, deceitful, something that constantly rendered you speechless and warm. 

You no longer rode your bikes or shared comic books; you were much too old for that now! Ellie had just gotten her license, a little too eager to drive Joel’s old beat up truck around with you in the passenger seat. And, of course, the both of you felt like true teenagers when you finally got phones.

You sat on Ellie’s bed, your knees pulled to your chest as you scrolled through your timeline. You giggled at random collages of pictures and videos, occasionally showing your screen to Ellie in hopes that she would laugh with you. 

She sat on the other end of the bed, a rolled joint held delicately in her fingers. Joel wasn’t home, and her bedroom door was closed. The walls of her bedroom trapped the both of you with the smell of it, but you were slowly learning to not mind it as much. 

When you first received a phone, you found yourself diving into social media, trying to keep up with this sudden boom of a new language, new jokes, new form of communication. Ellie, on the other hand, never touched her phone. If she was using it, it was probably because she was texting you. She refused to engage with any social media at all, meaning you had to sit and explain new jokes and trends to her. Sometimes, she’d try her hand at new lingo or an ongoing joke, but failed so miserably each time that you’d roll over her bedsheets in laughter. 

She pressed the joint to her lips, eyes lazy as she looked at you with longing. The brightness from your screen illuminated your face, emphasizing every beauty mark and freckle. 

“Hey,” she started, voice low. “C’mere.” 

You looked up at her in curiosity, putting your phone down. Your eyes stayed trained on her as you scooted closer, the sides of your legs pressing against hers. 

She wasn’t sure if it was the smoke or the way that you peered up at her that made the center of her body feel warm. She tilted her head away from you as she exhaled, the smoke clouding the space between you two; your heart thundered in your chest. 

“Almost done,” she promised, voice only a little raspy. “Missed you; that thing is hoarding all your attention.” The corners of her mouth twitched. 

“Is not!��� you defended, shoving her shoulder with your own. “I’m right here.” 

“Yeah,” she began, her hand coming up to tap at your head playfully. “But you’re not here. Let’s do something; been wanting to play a few rounds of that old zombie game.”

It was how you end up pressed into each other’s sides, hollering and giggling at the tiny TV screen on her bedroom dresser. You played erratically, your fingers relying on nonsensical button smashing to survive. Ellie had to constantly revive you every five minutes, but never mentioned it. 

She missed the way you squealed in anticipation with every new round that started, your eyes wide as you spoke with a constant smile. And, maybe it was from her high, but she was a little too intent in the way that she watched you, her mind feeling far away as she memorized every crevice of your face from the side. 

“Ellie!” you scolded, bringing her out of her daze. “No way you already died, the round just started!” 

She turned her attention back to the screen, scoffing as her player screen was black and white, her character eye-level with the ground. 

“Damn,” she muttered, surprised that she let herself slack off for so long. Too lost in your side profile, the dip of your lips, the way your lashes fluttered in surprise when a zombie attacked you in-game. 

Your character raced towards her, shooting around sloppily before you pressed the buttons to revive her. Her hand found itself on the top of your thigh, right above your knee. Perhaps it was the fogginess of her mind, or a newfound boldness that spurts through her; but she squeezed at your leg, her eyes stuck on the screen. “Thanks,” she says a little too nonchalantly, like that was completely normal. 

You swallowed thickly, your own movements faltering. There was a red ring forming around your player screen, indicating that you were being ruthlessly attacked. 

She snickered, her voice playful. “Focus.” 

The two of you kept on, your mind instead slipping up and focusing a little too hard on the way she touched you. 

It was senior year when that particular, sneaky something begins to widen the cracks in your relationship. A feeling that blurred your vision, blurred your mind. A feeling that made it impossible to correctly decipher whatever it was that Ellie was going through, and the two of you began to fall apart. 

It mostly started when Ellie got a job at a skate shop. For the most part, it was relaxed, her days consisting of seeing the same people come and go for wheels and decks. But it meant that she had less time to spend with you. 

Initially, she would use every single day off to see you. To invite you over or to laze around on your fluffy duvet, listening to you ramble about your nervousness as graduation was approaching. She would take you out, spoil you rotten with the excitement of her new paychecks, saying fuck all to saving any money. 

And in reality, you didn’t care about the way she spoiled you; granted, it was nice and certainly made your heart beat a certain way, but you mostly valued that she made the effort to see you still. Exchanging silent words and looks across the classroom was no longer sufficing your yearning heart. 

Months passed and Ellie started to become a little bit more focused on balancing school and work; she was set on saving as college approaches, and you figured that the prospect of growing up had changed her. She was set on a college, set on astrophysics, set on buying Joel some land and maybe, hopefully, spoiling you some more in a few years down the line…

But she was maybe a little too caught up in it. She saw you less and less, accidentally channeling her friendly energy to her coworkers. And while you knew there was nothing wrong with that, you couldn’t help the bitter taste that rested on your tongue when she constantly brought up the names of others that you’d heard of countless times. A part of you wanted to turn to her, ask her so pathetically, why can’t you do the same with me?

You started to really feel like you were losing her when you finally got the chance to sit in her room again, the both of you babbling about what you think college will look like. At first, the comfort of her poster-covered walls and space trinkets settled your restless heart, and you had felt at home with her again. 

It wasn’t until she slipped away to use the restroom, leaving her phone on her bed. The screen illuminated as it buzzed once, twice— three times. You should’ve left it alone, thinking maybe it was Joel warning her he’d be late from work. But you leaned over anyway, reading over the text on the screen.

For one, it was a coworker. You recognized the name on the notification; and for some reason, when you realized it was from the only other girl at her workplace, a horrible feeling nestled into your stomach. 

And then you couldn’t help the minor feeling of betrayal as you realized they had been messaging each other on a social media platform; one of the many things Ellie swore up and down that she’d stay away from. 

You didn’t even follow her on there. She never told you. 

It’s silly, you thought. Ellie can do whatever she pleased. But this new turn of events, this tiny thing that was still so out of character; the foundation between you two felt almost completely severed. 

Weeks passed from that day and you them found yourself pulling away. The both of you were accepted into the same college, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to feel excited. Ellie begged you to fill out your housing papers on time so that the two of you could be roommates, but you purposefully procrastinated. You weren’t sure you could handle such close proximity with her anymore. 

It was with this that the gap between the both of you widened. She didn’t drive you home anymore; it was time to put your own license to use. You two no longer exchanged knowing looks across the room, and you sure as hell didn’t share dinner with Joel anymore, either. You started to forget the exact layout of her bedroom. 

Graduation came and went; you spent it in solitude, not really counting the presence of your family members. Ellie did race up to you and gave you a bone crushing hug, nose burying into your hair, but you were so caught up in it all that you didn’t reciprocate it. 

It was another one of those minor things that widened the gap, made her step away from you both physically and emotionally. 

Even when Joel offhandedly mentioned that he’d be okay with helping you move into your dorm, Ellie made up some excuse on the fly; saying your brother had it covered. She hadn’t even asked you.

So, just like that, summer passed in a blink. You spent your days curled up in your bed, wallowing. Ellie spent it trying to distract herself, losing herself in the presence of coworkers-turned-close-friends. You shamefully stalked her social media, tears pricking at your eyes as she posted places and things that seem so fun, so far away. Places and things that you would’ve liked. 

What hurt more was the constant questioning from your family. Where’s Ellie? What’s she up to?

Hell if you knew. You’d been relying on her story highlights for snippets of her life, and even then they were still so vague. Scenery, music, her guitar. Someone else’s hands holding a deck of cards, videos with incessant giggling in the background. God, you were almost sickly with both wanting and loneliness. 

And, just like that, it was freshman year again. This time, there was no seating chart. No binder for you to slip comic book covers into. No comfort of hopping on your bike and riding home with the only person that matters at your side. 

You were in some sort of emotional purgatory. Your mind blank as you walked around campus, as you stared at your laptop screen in the dead of night, body aching as you slumped over and completed your coursework. The excitement and late nights that you and Ellie had planned were nowhere to be found. 

On the other hand, Ellie busied herself so much, she found that she almost forgot you. Almost. 

Burying herself into her homework, mind trying its hardest to wrap around these new concepts. Partying, though she wasn’t not really there. Smoking some, drinking some. It all still felt lonely. 

She was enjoying this new group of friends, but they didn’t amount to the certain someone that still had their shape, their initials carved into the center of her heart. It was almost unbearable to exist without you; the two of you blending into each other so well, she still found herself saying things the way you did— the intonation, the little lingo, the mannerisms. Your existence was embedded into her own, folding over into her psyche so compact-tight, she knew she could never escape you. 

Ellie assumed that now, at this point, it was about carrying you in her soul even though you were no longer around. The beauty of this life; she’d lost you, but not entirely. Your personality reflecting in her own no matter what, no matter how hard she tried. Her existence was a testament to your own— someone’s been here. Someone’s loved me. 

Weeks passed. Months passed. The both of you constantly shuffling across the same campus, yet never running into each other. Your text messages now buried underneath more recent threads, your shared playlist long forgotten and neglected. 

Winter break hit and the loneliness bit just as much as the cold. When Ellie returned home, she noticed her old bike in the garage, propped up against storage bins, the tires flat. When you returned home, you came back to photos of the both of you, pinned to your wall. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you took them down, throwing them into a box in your closet. 

At the same time, yet separately, the both of you traversed new grounds, and odd fucked up forms of grief. Being in your own space yet running into things that reminded you of someone that you wanted the most. And it wasn’t not like they were gone; yet the both of you let go, deciding that somehow, it was for the better. 

The cycle repeated as the seasons changed. Instead of actually moving on, the both of you just somehow got better at repressing your emotions and acting like nothing happened. Occasionally reflecting on your friendship in a daydream, and then reminding yourself that somehow, it just wasn’t meant to be. It was time to move on— she was never yours. 

It’s summer now, the end of junior year. Ellie’s at her friend’s place, sipping on a poorly made drink as they play card games and tune into a new season of a trending series. She’s cross-legged on the floor, smiling to herself as her friends talk over each other, slamming the cards down on the coffee table and trying to warp the rules in their own favor. It’s fun, and it’s easy to sit back and watch everything unfold. 

She feels her phone in her back pocket vibrating; assuming it’s Joel just checking up on her, she gets up and excuses herself, slipping out the back porch door. 

When she reaches for her phone, her heart nearly stops beating altogether. In fact, she’s sure it does, as her stomach suddenly twists in confusion and pain, a small cough leaving her lips as she tries to collect herself. Your name shines on her screen as you call, and she’s so sure she’s hallucinating (the hell was in that drink?) until she swallows her surprise and answers. 

And there you are. Breathless, exhausted. Immediately, she knows. Despite it being so long, despite the fact that she’s not entirely sure she knows you anymore, she still recognizes the tone in your voice, recognizes that you needed her. 

“Where are you?” she blurts before you can finish your sentence, her body automatically pacing around. “Send me the address.” 

You’re apologetic, sounding defeated on the other side. You tell her over and over again, I’m sorry.

There’s weight behind the way you say it, like you’re apologizing for something more. Like you’re counting all those times you shut her out, the times you let her slip through your fingers. It’s weak and shaky, but Ellie doesn’t bring it up. She’s too busy slipping on her shoes, keys dangling from her fingers as she mouths to her friends that she’ll see them later. 

She stays with you on the phone the entire time she drives over to get you. She asks, over and over again, if you’re okay and in a safe area, and your heart twists with guilt and shame. You stay planted on the edge of the curb, looking like a wilted flower.

Ellie feels her heart drop to her stomach as she approaches the street that you sit on, her headlights illuminating your pathetic figure. She rolls down the window and pulls over, calling out to you. 

Your eyes are low, the shame blatantly evident on your face. Ellie’s not sure how this will unfold; this isn’t exactly the way she dreamed the two of you would reunite. But that look on your face— Ellie knows it well enough. You’re both 15 again, and you’re trying to hide within your own body somehow. She sees the embarrassment, the bitter feeling that sits at the center of your chest. 

You approach her car and observe at her through the window, eyes avoiding her own. You study her form, how much she’s grown. She’s got a new haircut; it’s shorter— gayer. You can almost imagine yourself laughing at her, can almost imagine twirling the short pieces between your fingers. A patch of black ink catches your eye just then, your gaze landing on her forearm. Since when did she get a tattoo? 

She unlocks the door, silently beckoning you in. You slump into the passenger seat, completely defeated, and she reads your body language well enough to know not to pry at the situation. 

She shifts the car into drive but realizes that she doesn’t even know where you live anymore. The car sits there, idle as she tries to figure out what to ask you and how, then you mutter the directions to your apartment, reading her confusion just as well. 

The sound of Ellie’s music is quiet, practically just a gentle hum as the two of you sit, rigid as you keep your gazes locked on the road ahead. You don’t intend to explain yourself or have some sort of emotional come-to-jesus moment with Ellie, figuring that this situation alone is already stressful enough. 

But, she clears her throat and opens her mouth to speak, eyes still locked on the street signs. “You see the trailer for the new Savage Starlight adaptation?” 

You give her an awkward chuckle. “Yeah,” you say, nearly whispering. “Looked like trash, honestly.”

Ellie laughs at that. Laughs. And god, it’s not the kind of laugh that kills her, but it’s a solid one; an honest one. It sounds so good as it erupts from her chest, the sound of it pouring into your ears and over your heart. Christ. 

Your eyebrow twitches and you have to turn your head to look out the window— you can’t let her see the look on your face. You’re sure your eyes are wide and pooling with some sort of desperation. 

And, of course, Ellie catches it. But she just cares too much about you, so she lets all these little thing slip by to keep you comfortable, to keep you with her for even just a second longer. 

The conversation stays trained on little comments, acknowledging new video game releases and comic book trailers as if the both of you are in high school again, caught up in your nerdy obsessions. The air is thick and steady; the both of you dancing around this thinly-veiled attempt to be normal. The smallest things, such as the sound of her clearing her throat, or her hand coming up to scratch at her cheek, make your skin crawl with anticipation. 

You brace yourself for the ball to drop, holding it so tight to your chest, you’re almost suffocating. 

And while there’s no way you’ll drop this act, desperately clutching onto this feeling of faux normalcy, you know Ellie will. She’s much too blunt and forward focused to let you both sit in this awkward, paper-doll like scenario; steadily crafting your sentences, training your eyes to avoid her. 

And, god— it’s almost too easy to let your body relax, to slip back into your old comfortable patterns with Ellie right next to you. Because she’s never been prideful, and never will be, with the way she smiles to herself and breathes: “I missed you. It’s been… really long,” she says the last part with a bittersweet chuckle. “Too long.” 

Your chest caves. Stupidly, eagerly, almost like it wanted to, this whole time. Your body feels prickly and warm, but you school your face to remain somewhat neutral. 

“Yeah,” you offer dryly. “I’m kind of surprised, actually.” 

At that, Ellie tilts her head, fingers fluttering around the steering wheel. “How come?” 

“That, like, you even showed up. And you’re actually being nice and taking me home. I figured you kinda hated my guts towards the end.”

Ellie’s body has a physical reaction to that, and she taps on the brakes by accident. Not hard enough to send the both of you flying forward, but just enough of a push. You whip your head towards her, watching the way she furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head. 

“Sorry. Not trying to be defensive, but why…” She swallows thickly. “Why would you think that? And of me, of all people?”

She’s so, so gentle with the way she says it. Her voice quiet and low, not wanting to scare you away with this sudden confrontation. She reeks of true curiosity and something else that seems like hurt. 

“I just,” you start, trying to gather your words, then pause, not really recognizing where Ellie is driving. “Hold on. Where are you—?”

She pulls into an empty parking lot, stopping the car at an awkward angle, careless about her parking etiquette. 

“I’m sorry. I really just wanna clarify things,” she breathes out, her tone hurried as if you’ll slip and fade away if she doesn’t explain herself fast enough. “But, if you want me to completely fuck off, I’ll take you home. Just tell me.” 

You remain quiet, looking at her with a face that reads half anxious, half eager. A mix of the two, both emotions so similar in nature that maybe it kind of looks like… excitement. 

Ellie turns her body in her seat so that she can face you directly. “I was never tired of you, ever.” She takes in a slow, deep breath, trying to pace herself and keep her voice steady. With you, she can become passionate very quickly, so she needs to remain cool. “If anything, I thought that you felt that way about me. You stopped comin’ around, didn’t even try to room with me, and completely bailed on my attempts to see you. Did I do something?” 

She’s completely disarmed. Her words woven with nothing but good intentions, the look on her face desperate for some sort of reconciliation. She eyes you carefully, and if you looked hard enough, you may have been able to catch the glimmer of want in her eyes. 

Overcome with emotion, you fumble. Too busy with wanting to just defend yourself, swinging around your sword with your eyes shut in the hopes that you won’t get hurt, you don’t even try to match her energy. 

“Well, yeah,” you bite back, not nearly as careful as she was. “You changed. Everything changed. You made other friends, new friends, and just left me behind,” you accuse sharply, not thinking straight. “You… went behind my back.”

Despite the way that you speak to her, Ellie’s face softens. She knows what this is about. She’s too understanding, too willing to do anything to get you back in her life. As the realization slowly dawns on her, her heart flutters both with yearning and a deeper need. 

It’s how you end up pressed against the backseat of her car, her mouth on yours as her hands roam freely around your body. You shut up rather quickly, mind blurring over with the oncoming release of years of pent-up wanting. You tried to keep arguing back at her, and she did nothing but talk to you in that sweet tone, with eyes that scream I love you.

It isn’t that she’s trying to coax you, or anything. It just happened as you begin to increasingly realize that she is not going to fight you; she just wants you. She needs you to know that, she has to make herself clear. 

Fog creeps up the car windows as she presses her knee in between your legs, rocking against you slowly. 

Ellie’s pacing herself; she’s thought about this a few times, guiltily. But in her mind, it’s always been in her bed, her mind crafting the scene of your body, your little sounds. It was like she had to slap her own hand away from herself sometimes. 

So while this isn’t exactly what she had daydreamed it would be, she still wouldn’t complain. Regardless of the situation, you were pressed into her, panting and sighing in ways that made her mind turn to soppy mush, overrun with desire and emotion. 

And, while she’s set on taking care of you and showing you just how much you meant and still mean to her, she can’t help but want to make you admit it too. 

She pulls back from kissing you, her eyes glazed over as she looks at your face. Holy shit.

Skin so warm, and you already look spent. She swallows, suddenly doubting how long she’ll be able to hold off. 

She bites back a satisfied smile before she dips down again, her face hidden in the crevice between your neck and shoulder, kissing all the way down. 

“Take this off,” she murmurs, fingers pulling at the waistband of your skirt. You do your best to follow her orders, cramped up in the seat, pulling your knees towards yourself in an attempt to shimmy out of the fabric. It catches on your ankle, hanging, and you giggle at the state of the situation. Ellie’s heart melts over itself, beating erratically; she’s going fucking crazy. 

You’ve done nothing but moan, twitch, laugh, and flutter your lashes. She hasn’t even felt you yet, hasn’t even seen your body in its entirety. And she’s gone. 

She almost raises an eyebrow at the sight of your skimpy little underwear, but her question catches in her throat. You were at the club, after all. Something sinks in her stomach at the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, observing the way the fabric clings onto you. 

Her fingers massage at your inner thighs, her knee firm in place as she keeps them set apart. Her digits dance right against your core, pressing against the fabric. You twitch, rolling your hips into her, fingers catching on the seatbelt behind you, gripping on for life. She laughs, but not necessarily at you. 

It feels like it takes her years (well, technically) to push your panties to the side, eyes falling hazy as she stares right into you. You’re so vulnerable, you try shutting your thighs close, but she pushes them apart again. 

“I know,” she hushes you, dipping lower to nip at your lips. “I know.” 

Her fingers trace over your folds, and you think you’re about to explode. You hadn’t expected Ellie to be the type to make this agonizing and painful, but you know you probably deserve it after your showcase of attitude. 

She draws her hand back and brings her fingers up to her mouth, sucking on them nonchalantly. A satisfied sigh escapes her as she finally, finally gets to taste you on her tongue. She lets her hand travel back down, and you turn your head to the side, shutting your eyes in anticipation. 

“Look at me,” she commands softly, stopping her fingers right where you want her. 

You nod, giving her the false promise that you will. Ellie sees right through it, and with her free hand she gently grips onto your face, turning you to make eye contact with her. 

She needed to see your face as she fucked you, she needed to know, after so long of wondering, how you looked when facing pure pleasure. 

Your lashes flutter, eyebrows screwing together as she slips her fingers inside your warmth, pressing the heel of her palm against your clit. She’s gentle in the way she stretches you out, working you through it with such care and patience. 

Ellie revels in the way your chest heaves already, pupils blown out with bliss. She moves her knee and lets you shut your thighs together, trapping her hand in place. 

“This is all you needed, huh?” she teases, her voice only a little prickly, but her smile says otherwise. “For me to touch you like this.” 

You nod silently, too busy biting on your bottom lip and rocking your body onto her fingers to reply. 

“Answer me,” she demands with the same softness, setting the tone. Her gaze is locked onto your face, memorizing every twitch of your brow, every whine that leaves your lips. 

It’s almost ridiculous how brainless you are already, melting beneath her entirely. 

“Needed you,” you manage to breathe out, nodding your head again. “So bad.”

Ellie hisses a swear, and she can’t help the way she leans into you, pressing her body against yours. She curls her fingers inside of you, the palm of her hand nudging at your eager bud. She groans to herself as she feels your walls twitch around her digits, her head dropping low as if she has to stop herself from spiraling. She’s hanging on by a thread; a hair, wanting nothing more than to fuck you senseless. But it’s been too long, and she’s got something to prove to you. 

Her eyes shine as she feels your body grow tense, your wriggling becoming more constant. She slows down her pace, watching closely as your mouth drops, a pout playing at your lips. 

“Please,” you begin, and she smiles. 

“Please what?” 

“Please, fucking just,” you try grinding on her fingers, lashes fluttering. “Oh my god,” you sigh, that little attitude trickling in your tone. 

She scoffs, almost meanly. She stops her movements entirely, fingers falling slack in your pussy. “Yeah? Do it yourself, then.” 

And to her surprise, you do. That attitude is wiped clean from your voice as you whimper pathetically, body rolling, walls fluttering as you try to fuck yourself with her fingers. She stares at you in awe, throat running dry. 

It takes her a second, but she blinks and she’s falling back into you. Watching as you desperately chase your release, bumping your clit onto her hand, and you absentmindedly grab onto her arm, trying to anchor yourself. 

She sucks her teeth and sighs to herself. She had intended to drag this out, to make you beg, to make you say that you were hers all along. But with the way you hold onto her, shamelessly rutting your hips, her name falling off your lips like a prayer— she already knows it’s all true. 

She’s kind enough to start thrusting her fingers again, moaning at the way your slick bundles at your entrance, coating her fingers and slipping down her hand. It’s obscene, but she doesn’t care. In fact, it gives her more of a reason to clean you up afterward. 

“Ellie,” you breathe suddenly, your little prayers becoming less coherent as a certain feeling creeps around, engulfing your body and mind. “I’m gonna cum,” you whine shamelessly, the heat in your stomach spreading lower and lower, your body tingling. 

She leans over you again, watching over your face as your eyes slip shut. 

“Go ahead, baby. Let me hear you.” 

It’s a demand but she still says it so softly, a certain tenderness behind her words. You choke on your own moan, body practically seizing as your thighs tighten, fingers digging into her arm. You chant a repeated I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, and Ellie smiles as you do anyway, your cunt swallowing her fingers with your release. 

Her hand relentlessly slaps against your core, even though you begin to tear up and beg for her to stop. She smiles to herself before she slowly drags her fingers out of you, bringing them back up into her mouth. 

It’s not nearly enough. While you slump back into the seat, panting, body still shaky from such strong sensations, she’s busy maneuvering her body to sit on the floor of the car and propping your legs onto her shoulders. 

You blink as you slowly come back to reality, your mind hazy. 

“Ellie,” you start softly, reaching out your hand. 

She reaches up and intertwines your fingers, eyes locked on your dripping cunt as her voice carries over to your ears. “I’m right here. Can’t let it go to waste.” 

Your eyes roll back, another string of moans escaping you as Ellie shuts her eyes and latches onto your clit, moaning into your pussy. 

The hours of the night escape both of you, becoming lost in each other in the back of her car, cementing your fate. 

Ellie laughs at your blank expression, her hand rubbing down her face in disbelief. 

“That was so… garbage. Beyond garbage. Landfill levels of trash,” you say weakly, the soft lights of the movie theater reflecting off your face. 

She continues giggling at your side, hand over her mouth in an attempt to be quiet despite the fact that the movie is already over. 

You playfully swat at her arm, turning to her, face ridden with shock. “There’s no way you’re not disappointed! This shit was such a waste of money. We were better off pirating it.” 

She shakes her head and smiles to herself, hand wrapping around your own as she pulls you to stand up with her. “I think it was well worth it; it was, like, funny bad.” 

You stand, wrapping your arm around her own as you two trail down the steps of the theater. You continue picking the movie apart, disdain in your voice. You have a reason to be passionate; this lazy attempt at turning Savage Starlight into a box office success had taken a terrible turn, the movie filled with stupid one-liners and god awful acting. 

You should’ve known; it’s been a month since the trailer dropped— or, since you and Ellie came back together. A month of everything falling into place, the pieces of your individual lives slipping back into the way they used to be. A month of constant, whispered confessions, making up for lost time; lovelorn kisses, touches fueled by years of yearning. Pursuing your lives together again, and of course, falling back into your geeky little habits— the one thing that brought you together in the first place, anyway.

You shouldn’t have walked in with such high expectations after the both of you predicted how awful it was gonna be once you both sat down to rewatch the trailers together. 

As the two of you make it outside of the building, Ellie bites her cheek at the way you continue to ramble, the passion in your voice making her heart swell. There is just too much to adore about you. 

“Hey,” she starts, voice low. 

You raise your eyebrows. “What?”

Ellie nods her chin in the direction of her car, mischief written all over her face. “I know a way to give you a happy ending.”

You groan in annoyance, pushing her away. Your voice rings out and into her ears, settling her restless heart as you scold her, a smile showing through.

“Ellie!”

[iimplicitt]

OFF TO THE RACES | LN4

parings: lando x cowgirl unnamed fem! character (faceclaim bella hadid)

summary: the mclaren team gets taken to a rodeo ahead of the austin grand prix. lando takes the saying; “save a horse, ride a cowboy” a little too literally. let’s take Jesus off the dashboard, he’s got enough on his mind.

warnings: 18+ smut!!, car sex (it’s crime don’t do it), unprotected p in v (also don’t do this), one night stand, lando in a cowboy hat, hickeys, spitting, praise, size kink? kind of, lando has a thing for making her cry (in a good way), social media posts towards the end

wc: 3.8k

a/n: i’m a born and raised texan so don’t come for me with the stereotypes in this LET ME DREAM

Sweat coated his skin as they walked, the road cracked and uneven as they made their way up to the exposition center turned rodeo. It was Zak’s idea, a bonding experience he said for Lando and Oscar even though that was completely unnecessary. They probably spent too much time together as is.

Their boss smiled at them, already sun burnt a bit as they got closer and closer to the blaring country music. “You can’t get a more American experience than this!”

Lando and Oscar looked at each other for a moment before shaking their heads, smiling despite how ridiculous this all seemed. Lando had no interest in watching animals run around in dirt while shitty music blared through speakers all the while someone’s beer might be spilling on him. Then again, maybe he was being cynical and the South was about to be full of surprises.

The whole venue was crowded, making it seem even hotter despite the setting Texas sun. There was a carnival going on as well, a good chunk of people still running around playing games or going on rides. The other half were pouring through the large open doors, the Mclaren Formula One team being a part of it.

It was loud, the metal ceiling and walls echoing the sound of music and people talking and shouting. It was lively, he could admit that. Maybe it would even be fun drunk, but that was a big no go in regard to the rule book of a race weekend.

Someone met them near the entrance, a man who clearly worked with the venue based on the obvious cowboy get up he had on. Boots, hat, the whole thing. Zak did most of the talking while Lando and Oscar looked around curiously, watching as people bustled about and waving at those who recognized them.

Eventually they were led to a section close to the floor, front row seats to all the action. Neither driver really knew what to expect, but the very last thing Lando was anticipating was seeing the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on riding out on horseback.

He was awestruck immediately, his eyes not leaving her as she made her way around the perimeter, smiling and waving as she went. Fuck, she was stunning. Her skin was tan and glowing, her grin bright and brown hair tucked loosely under a cowboy hat. He felt his heart skip a beat as she got closer and closer to where he was sitting, and Lando became acutely aware of himself as he leaned his elbows against the railing. Hoping he didn’t look like a dumbass and for once hoping he didn’t look too British.

Would she even be interested in an Englishman? The thoughts running through his head were ridiculous but everything seemed to go mute as she passed right by him. Tipping her hat down and sending him a wink before the horse continued on its path.

“Careful mate, I think you’re drooling.” Oscar laughed from next to him, nudging him knowingly.

“Shut up, Osc.” Lando barely spared his teammate a glance before he tracked his gaze back to her. Watching in awe as she did whatever the hell she was doing, maneuvering the horse expertly around obstacles, dirt kicking up around her but her face didn’t give anything away but pure determination and focus. He’d never seen anything so graceful.

The rest of the night he kept an eye on her whenever he was able to, his gaze flicking up to the big screen to catch her name anytime she was shown on camera. When she laughed at something her friend said, her head thrown back and eyes crinkling, he thought the earth was opening up underneath him with the desperation to hear the sound of it.

When the rodeo was over, Oscar just about had to drag him away from the railing to get him to leave. “I’m sure this is how your fans feel,” the Australian joked, not at all bothered by the glare Lando was throwing his way.

“I’m not her fan. Merely an admirer.”

“And I'm sure that’s the mindset all your fans have. Besides,” he gestured to where a decently large group of men were waiting near the exit at the back of the expo center shouting her name. “Seems she already has groupies.”

Lando ticked his jaw, not seeing how waiting around would help them at all. He didn’t want to pull the I’m an F1 driver card because then he’d come off like a complete arse. So, cutting his losses he followed everyone else and headed into downtown Austin to find a bar to attend.

Not that he saw the point given; no drinking.

The music was even louder in the bar that was also combined with that he knew very little about like line dancing. Mulling over his water as he scrolled through his phone, he hesitated for a moment before typing her name into instagram.

“Christ,” he muttered. Every time he saw her she seemed to get prettier.

He debated on following her but he knew someone somewhere would take notice and spin it into something it’s not. Even if he wished there was something to blow out of proportion.

Someone bumped his arm and his thumb hit the follow button.

Lando blinked at his phone for a moment, watching her follow count tick up by one and he squeezed his eyes shut. Letting out a sigh he shoved his phone back in his pocket, no point in undoing that hiccup given she’d see the notification. Some small part of himself, or maybe a larger portion, wanted her to take notice. Take an interest, and maybe follow him back. Hell, he’d beg the universe for a DM if he had to.

Oscar appeared and gestured with a hand, smiling as if he knew something. “Look who it is.”

Following his friend’s gaze, Lando looked around before his eyes fell on what Oscar was looking so fucking smug about.

There she was, barely twenty feet away and leaning against the bar. Her smile was contagious as she talked with her friends animatedly with her hands.

“Go and talk to her.”

Lando spun around, looking at Oscar as if he just suggested he commit suicide. “What?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Since when are you nervous when it comes to girls? Just go and say hi.”

“I’ll look like a stalker who followed her here from the rodeo.”

“Right, like she even remembers seeing you.”

Lando's hands went to cover his heart, his features warped into offense. “Ouch, Osc. Low blow.”

The Aussie was hearing none of it as he lightly took hold of Lando’s hoodie and shoved him in her direction. “Thank me later.”

His annoyance wasn’t all that genuine, in fact he was thankful for the shove of encouragement as he made his way over to her. Fuck, was his hair alright? Did he smell bad? He’d been sweating all day. He hadn’t even talked to her yet and she had his mind reverting back into his insecure teenage self.

She caught his eye before he was too close, recognition flashing briefly across her face as her friends continued to talk. Her smile slipped into something more sultry- more knowing. Like she knew exactly why he was here. He wouldn’t be surprised if she got approached a lot, she was stunning.

He came to a stop, her friends' voices slowly fading into silence as they all looked at him. The air tense and a bit awkward but he forced a casual laugh. “Hi.”

Was that really all he had?

She bit her bottom lip, clearly amused by him before he was finally graced by the sound of her voice. “Howdy.”

Even that was heavenly.

“Do people here really say that?” Stupid non flirtatious things were pouring out of his mouth.

Her and her friends laughed, looking at him as if he was a court jester and he wanted to punch Oscar next time he saw him.

“Do you really say cheerio?”

This time he laughed, feeling more relaxed and he shook his head. “No, I don’t at least.”

Her pale green eyes slated to her friends for a moment, something silent passing between them and before he knew it they were alone. She gestured her head for him to come and stand beside her and Lando obliged like a lovesick puppy.

She leaned in close, the smell of her perfume mixed with polished leather was addictive and he wanted to bottle up the scent and keep it forever. “For the record,” she began, her accent light but noticeable. “I do say howdy as a greeting.”

He grinned at her, leaning down to match the level of her gaze and her slight whisper. “It’s cute.”

Her eyes flicked over his face, taking in his features and for the briefest moment her gaze danced over his lips. Making him feel dizzy and he wondered what the woman was doing to him.

She leaned back slightly and took a sip of her drink. “I saw you at the rodeo earlier.”

“I’m glad I’m memorable.”

“You’re hard to miss. You don’t exactly scream you’re from the south. Especially wearing this when it’s almost a hundred out.” She tugged lightly at the string of his hoodie, her lips pulled back in a playful smile and he wished he could just grab her and kiss her. The thought was overwhelming but he had to remind himself not to be an absolute creep.

“Well, it seems the stars are aligning then. I was hoping I’d get to run into you at some point.”

“You sure you didn’t stalk me Mr. Norris?”

He blinked at her. “You know who I am?”

Her cheeks were dusted a rosy pink as she waved her phone at him, his instagram page glowing at him and he shut his eyes. “That was an accident and a coincidence that you happened to be here.”

“Aw, and here I was being flattered.” She scrolled through his page, a giggle leaving her as she came across a picture of him in the ocean with mud all over his face and wearing a pair of sunglasses.

“No, don’t look-“ he tried to cover her screen with his hand but she took hold of his wrist and playfully shoved him away.

“This is golden.” She laughed. “This is what millionaires get up to?”

“You’re looking at all the wrong pictures.” He tried to reason, surely blushing as he made to cover her phone again and she pushed him away, this time with her hip and he felt his mind slip into a numbness that craved her touch again. She was pressed against him now, laughing for another moment before she eventually followed him back.

Her back pressed against his chest, turning to look at him over her shoulder and flashing the screen at him. “There.”

He looked down at her and completely ignored the phone, one hand falling to her waist absentmindedly as his other arm kept him upright against the counter of the bar. Her face was so close and he took in every minute detail. The way her skin glowed, dusted with a faint blush. Her nose was adorable and long lashes fanned out over her glowing eyes.

She was breathtaking.

The feeling of pure want coursed through every nerve in his body, acutely aware of the pressure of her against him. Her jeans tight around her hips and thighs before beginning to flare out and her top was snug fitting and complimented her wonderfully.

His grip on her waist tightened and he heard her breath hitch as she blinked up at him, her pupils blown wide and the smile that stretched his lips was anything but innocent.

Lando had her.

They barely made it into the back seat of her truck before his mouth was colliding with hers in a way that was almost violent as they fell back onto the seats. Lando settled himself between her legs, grinding against her in a way that was shattering his sanity second by second.

Her nails raked up from his neck and into his hair, a groan escaping him and being swallowed up by her mouth. She tasted sweet and had the faint taste of whiskey on her tongue, utterly maddening and he would never get enough of it.

“Take this damn thing off,” she managed to say between bites and kisses, tugging impatiently at his hoodie.

He smiled into the kiss, his hands blindly taking hold of the hem of the fabric before breaking away for a moment to rip it over his head. The truck was a bit cramped but he’d make it work, his mind was consumed by her at the moment and he wanted this to last for an eternity.

Her nails dragged down his body, letting out a content sigh as she took in the sight of his tanned skin and muscle, her fingers hooking into the belt loops of his trousers and the way she looked up at him would’ve been enough to send him over the edge. The sight was heavenly and the innocent look to her in that moment as her brown hair fanned out around her like a nimbus was devastating.

Lando reached forward and took hold of her cowboy hat that had gotten knocked off and placed it on his head, sending her a wink.

When a mewling sound left the back of her throat he raised a brow at her and he felt his cock get impossibly harder. Lando smiled down at her knowingly as he began to undo his belt. “Is this really doing it for you, darling?”

Her eyes nearly looked black with desire as her gaze trailed up from what his hands were doing to his face. “You have no fucking idea.”

He tugged his belt off and tossed it to the side, but before he worked on undressing himself further his fingers danced out and began undoing each button of her too tight shirt. Her breasts had already been tugging at the seams so when he popped one open they practically spilled out for him. No bra and on display and the sound that left him felt primal.

Lando needed her. All of her. Everywhere and every second of the day. If he could have her the way he wanted as he pleased he even considered fucking her in the middle of the paddock if she let him.

His fingers trailed down further and made easy work of her belt and zipper before he leaned back and took hold of each of her legs to rest them on his shoulders. “Lift up for me, baby.”

She didn’t hesitate as she lifted her hips for him and the immediate submissiveness made his mind melt into a puddle of pure desire. He tugged her boots off and then her jeans, and when the sight of her lacy white underwear graced his vision he suddenly wished they would’ve had the patience to get to the hotel.

“Fuck, I bet you taste incredible.”

But there was simply no room. He half debated on saying fuck it and bring her to the bed of the truck so he could ruin her in every way he was dreaming about, but that would probably lead to an arrest and a very unhappy meeting with the team and stewards.

“Please.” Her tone was needy, desperate even as she lifted her hips to him in an attempt to get her closer. There was already a damp spot appearing and Lando wanted to take her away and keep her to himself for the rest of his life.

“Where have you been all my life?” He sighed, his fingers dancing down her thighs and delighting in the way she trembled against his touch. “Tell me what you need.”

She bit her lip so hard he thought it might bleed and his hands dug into the soft flesh of her thighs, earning himself a moan from the back of her throat. “Use your words, baby. I need to hear you.”

“Fuck me, please.” She yanked his hips flush against hers by his belt loops. “And please lord, keep that hat on.”

His grin was wicked as he leaned down to capture her lips again, open mouthed and sloppy. His tongue dancing against hers and exploring, teeth clinking together as he pulled himself out from his trousers and used his other hand to tug her underwear to the side.

Lando never skipped foreplay but he was desperate and so was she. Not to mention she was practically dripping already and when the tip of his cock rubbed against her entrance and clit he shuddered as she let out a gasp, her nails digging into his back.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, darling.”

“Please,” she choked out, pulling him even closer by the back of his neck and kissing him.

When Lando sank into her till his hips were flush against hers he knew he finally found salvation. Purpose is what it felt like. The missing part of his life that he hadn’t even been aware of but now made him whole. He groaned into her mouth, matching her moan.

She was so warm and tight, the muscles of her cunt clenching around him. “You take me so well,” he ground out as he pulled his hips back and watched as he sunk back into her pussy slowly. The sight was other worldly. He wanted to film it but he was now determined that this would not be the last time he had his way with her.

She grinded her hips against him, matching his agonizingly slow rhythm and trying to get more. More satisfaction and he laughed at her desperation before burying his face in her neck, sucking and biting as he continued the slow pace.

“Lando, harder.” She gasped out, clutching at his shoulder with one hand while her other twined in the curly hair at the nape of his neck that was peaking out from under the cowboy hat.

He pulled back, teeth tugging at her skin before he released it with a pop. He got a little carried away, a hickey on her neck already forming but he couldn’t find himself to care as he got lost in the sensation of her cunt around his cock. She was perfectly made for him.

His hands pressed into the seat on either side of her head. “Open.” His tone was sharp and her lips parted immediately at the command. He smiled as he let saliva drip from his tongue and into her mouth, not giving her a moment to get a grip on reality before he then spit on her at the exact same time he pulled his hips back and snapped them hardly forward, burying his cock even deeper inside her.

She let out a cry, pleasure mixing with pain as he brushed against her cervix before pulling back and dragging against her g-spot, only to repeat the process over and over again. Bending her knees up so he could get a better angle, his thrusts brutal and being driven mad by the sound of his name being cried from her lips.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he said through heavy pants, watching her unravel beneath him and when his eyes caught sight on her naval the sound that left him didn’t even sound like himself.

Lando could see the outline of his cock as he fucked her, her smaller and skinnier size making it easier. “Oh fuck, you’re gonna kill me, baby. Look at you.” He pressed a hand gently to her stomach, feeling himself thrust in and out.

She bucked against him at the added sensation, tears streaming from her eyes and leaving pretty trails of mascara down her cheeks.

“Lando, oh my god—“ a scream left her as his other hand began rubbing tight circles into her clit. “I’m gonna—“

“Do you want to come on my cock, darling?”

She nodded, words lost on her and Lando knew he was on the verge of crashing as well. Feeling each of his nerves winding tightly. “Why don’t we come together, can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Please.”

“Such a good girl,” he praised, his tone soft. A complete antithesis to the almost violent pace of his cock slamming into her.

He switched the direction of his fingers on her clit. “Now, darling.”

Not a moment later she was convulsing against him, her cunt clamping down in his cock and Lando groaned out her name as he threw his head back, his cum filling her up nicely as the muscles in his stomach clenched. Sweat was coating both their bodies, all the windows completely fogged up and he felt delirious as he collapsed on top of her, settling comfortably between her hips and still buried inside of her.

He could both feel and hear her rapid heart beat, her warm breath coating the side of his neck as she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder.

“God, I love the English,” she muttered breathlessly against him and he laughed, loving the way she fit so snugly against him.

“And I’m in love with this form of southern hospitality.”

She snorted, the sound heartbreakingly adorable and he never wanted to let go of her. “All I said to you was howdy.”

He turned his face to hers, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “Say y’all.”

She raised a brow at him but complied. “Y’all?”

He groaned and kissed her through her laughter. “I’m done for.”

Eventually, and not with any thrill, he had to pull out of her and she shivered as he did so. Picking up his discarded hoodie from the floor, he gestured for her to sit up. “Lift your arms,” his voice was soft and his heart clenched as she smiled at him, doing as told.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him but he felt like he was struck by cupid’s arrow or something. Lando didn’t want this night to end and he wanted to see her tomorrow. And the next day, and the next. He wanted her by his side till he was rotting away in the earth.

He needed to thank Oscar next time he saw him.

Slipping the hoodie on her, he brushed the hair out of her eyes and dusted his thumbs over her cheekbones as he cradled her face. The air was quiet but not tense, a comfortable silence and he sighed slightly through his nose.

“What?” She asked, her brows furrowed and her smile timid. A bit shy despite the events that just unfolded.

“Would it be mental to ask you to come to the race this weekend?”

His eyes caught her tongue as it darted out to wet her lips, which were slowly forming into a grin. “I would love to, but I don’t know anything about it.”

He shrugged, pulling her in gently by hooking a finger into the collar of his hoodie she was wearing. “Just cheer for car number four and I’ll be on top of the world.”

She bit her lip, eyes searching his before she nodded. “Okay, but I want to do something for you.”

“You don’t need to—“

“It’ll be fun.” She reached her hands up and straightened the cowboy hat on his head. “Besides I haven’t seen enough of you dressed like this yet.”

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, youruser, oscarpiastri and 307,284 others

landonorris am i doing this right?

photo creds and tour of austin courtesy of youruser

*tap to load more comments*

userone: THIS IS EVERYTHING

youruser: you are definitely doing this right

landonorris: taught by the best

oscarpiastri: i’m still waiting on a thank you

landonorris: shut up

usertwo: i need to know the tea

userthree: AND WHOS THE GIRL???

f1wags

liked by 56,029 others

f1wags oh? who’s this? potentially a new wag spotted in the paddock this weekend at the usgp and rooting for lando norris!! some sources say they were seen together afterward, but nothing is set in stone yet! pictured is; youruser

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userone: OH MY GOD THEY WOULD LOOK SO GOOD TOGETHER

usertwo: right?? i hope it’s true

userthree: lando dating a cowgirl is not something i knew i needed

userfour: ew? really? not an american LMAO

userfive: she’s literally stunning what do you mean

usersix: the way she was screaming and cheering for him has me SOBBING she already seems so supportive

userseven: everyone needs to chill we don’t even know if they’re together, just because they follow one another doesn’t mean anything

usereight: you must be fun at parties

youruser

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, lilyzneimer, iamrebeccad and 67, 892 others

youruser south side of heaven

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userone: PLS TELL ME THATS LANDO

usertwo: oh my god?? all the wags liking it???

userthree: CHAT PLS I NEED HER AND LANDO TO BE REAL

userfour: he’s been seen in texas NUMEROUS times over the break istg i think they are dating

landonorris and youruser

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 702,299 others

landonorris happy birthday pretty girl

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userone: oh. my. GOD

usertwo: I KNEW IT

carlossainz55: the black and white made me think she had passed

youruser: i thought i missed my own funeral

landonorris: i hate you both

userthree: IM LOSING MY MIND WKSKSJW

userfour: he looks so happy IM SOBBING

taglist: @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @ashbone @c8lap1nto @taasgirl @stopeatread @dying-inside-but-its-classy