LANDO NORRIS Is The Best Driver On The Grid, Or At Least You Think So. Which Is Why Watching The Press

LANDO NORRIS is the best driver on the grid, or at least you think so. which is why watching the press conference put a hole in your heart.

"um, i think we quite easily had the best car out there today, i just didn't do a good enought job off the line and then that one thing cost me everything" you watched as the interview continued. the british driver was clearly dissapointed with himself, falling just short of the coveted top step because of one decision. the thing making it sting the most, was that this was the second week in a row of the same occurance.

"uh, today we were the quickest, i had the best car out there, and, um, i didnt maxamize it. the start's down to me and doing what i get told and executing that. with a good start we easily would've won." normally you would head straight to the hotel with some other wags to get some drinks and wait for the boys to be done with media, but today you wanted to see lando before you left. as the press conference wrapped up, you waited for himin the hospitality area of mclaren.

the papya man sulked into hospitality, not bothering to lift his head and see you.

"lan!" you called gently. as green eyes met yours, the man's frame visibally relaxed. he opened his hand for you to take, bekoning you towards him. as he walked you towards his driver's room, you studied his features. his jaw tense and eyebrows were low, trying to hide saddened eyes.

it hurt you to see him like this. a month ago he'd be hanging onto you and asking which dress you were going to wear out to celebrate, but now p2 wasn't good enough. to some extent you were happy for him. the car was competitive now, but lando was starting to be so hard on himself if he wasn't perfect during a race.

lando pushed the door to his room open for you, leaving you to plop onto the small bed as he changed. before you could think of what to say to make your boyfriend feel better, he spoke,

"hey, its probably going to be a long one tonight," lando said, uncharistically down, "you can just take my car and i'll uber to the hotel after we're done."

"no i'll just wait for you to be done, it's okay i want to be here"

"baby can you please just take the car?" his eyes clamped shut and he ran a hand through his messy curls, "i really don't have the energy to turn this into a debate." his tone was stiff. it sent chills down your spine that you had never felt before.

"okay," and thats where the conversation ended. the room was silent until lando had to leave for the race debreif. he pecked you on the cheek, said a very quiet, "bye" and strode off. leaving you sat in the small room, wondering if you could say or do anything to make him feel better.

THE HOTEL was quiet without him. you thought about passing some time with the other wags by the bar, but didn't want to be the one to kill their vibe.

walking into the shared room, you beelined straight for the bedroom. stripping off your old outfit, opting into a hoodie and some sweats (courtesy of lando). as you laid in bed scrolling through your phone, your mind dwelled on lando. what could you do to help? make him dinner? have a chat? should you even say anything at all? you were exhausting yourself.

as your thoughts raced, you found it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. eventually succumbing to the desire for sleep, you drifted off.

a hand falling on your shoulder stirred you from your slumber. you opened your eyes to a wet headed lando norris looking down at you.

"hey darling, how was your night?" he sank into bed and you immediately fell into his chest.

"it was alright," you murmmered sleepily, "how was the meeting?"

"fine," he replied sternly. this wasn’t the first time a race had gone poorly for lando of course, however normally he was vocal with you about his feelings. venting about team strategy, his performance, other drivers, tire degradation, the list was endless; which made the silence all the more deafening.

“do you wanna talk about it at all?” he scoffed in return, an extremely unusual response from the brit. as the seconds dragged on, you became less and less sure that you were going to get a real answer, “i get that you’re upset, but-”

“oh you get it?” the driver spat, “you understand the feeling of coming second to max again simply because you are worse. no team strategy to blame or anyone in your way?” he looked at you with expectant eyes, “yeah, i didn’t think s-“

“lan stop,” you cut him off, “this isn’t fair. i was just giving you the opportunity to vent and now you’re talking like it’s my fault. i have no control over how your race goes,” you cupped his cheek, “yes, i love watching you succeed, but i’m not here for a top step, or a signing bonus. i’m here for the dnfs, and the horrible stratigies, and the blown starts,” lando grimaced at the last one, “i want to support you every second, of every hour. so stop barking at me like i’m zak brown and start speaking to me like i’m your girlfriend who just woke up to talk to you.” the driver grinned at your stupid comparison.

“i’m sorry, love,” your boyfriend replied softly, “can i try again?”

“of course lan,” a few beats passed “how was the meeting?”

“it was long and tiring, i think i’ve talked enough racing tonight to last me at least two weeks,” he paused and ran a hand over his face, “i really don’t think i can talk about it anymore though, im sorry darling.”

“don’t apologize, you have nothing to apologize for,” you said calmly, “we can just go to sleep, i’m tired of hearing about it as well”

the driver pulled you close to him and buried his head into your chest. you pulled him in tight, running a hand through his unruly curls and he hummed in response. this was what he needed. no words could calm the thoughts in his head, simply your presence was all he desired.

after a few moments passed, you carefully slid a hand over his face; raising those brown eyes to meet yours, “i’m proud of you lan, always” the boy kissed you sweetly, and with that the two of you finally slept.

A.N: IM SO SORRY!!! starting college has been hectic, but i am semi- settled in so im gonna try to post somewhat regularly. maybe like once a week? but this specific fic was supposed to be posted after the spanish gp i believe but anyways …. tada!!

batfam masterlist

🎀=smut ☁=fluff 🧸=angst

jason todd

jealous 🎀

dick greyson

none... yet

bruce wayne

none... yet

Okay like no matter the shoulda coulda I'm hyped about where the racing in F1 is going for the second half of the season

Everyone is much closer than they've been for a long time and if Ferrari can pick it up a little more too we'll legitimately have four teams all fighting for the win

drabbles. | fics.

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Honeydukes and Sweets

Summary: Competition is a double-edged sword — it can carry you to great heights, but also result in a fiery fall. Like the wings of Icarus, Draco Malfoy fell, but not in the way he expected. Words: 4.4k Pairing: Draco x Non-Slytherin!Reader A/N: this was meant to go on for much longer, but i might put my other ideas into a separate fic. will proofread tomorrow (maybe) thanks for reading!

The philosopher Aristotle wrote about the importance of art and beauty in human life. He said that beauty has the power to change human behaviour — that it isn’t just something to be admired, but by surrounding ourselves with beautiful things, we can become better people.

Draco Malfoy never thought much about beauty. It was not a concept that concerned him. He had his gold and jewels, the power and the prestige, and the attention and validation that came with them. Beauty in even the smallest things like the sun setting over the horizon never faltered his idea of it being nothing more than just a mirage.

It was merely a fleeting moment of pleasure that faded as quick as it came. He’d never been moved by beauty in the same way that others were. The things he had were valued above all else, and his desire to place value on the things he possessed overshadowed the importance of all things else.

His arrogance rose tension like thorns between the pair of you. You were merely a half-blood to him—a filthy one at that, and one with barely any wealth—and he convinced himself that his thoughts would never sway. Never mind the beauty you held that enthralled people to your feet, he would never bow even if you asked politely; you were beneath him.

"You're nothing special, really. In fact, I fail to see why anyone would give you a second thought." He told you.

You liked to think it was only a way to conceal his insecurities, so you never put too much thought into it. Draco was hardly special under the roof of the castle even with his status. He barely had anyone, but he never really valued the beauty in friendship regardless, and still, his lack of companionship only fuelled his frustration. How could a half-blood be more liked than him?

Then, he saw you had surpassed his grade in potions, and your battle of ego and wits grew into an academic rivalry. The two of you were like magnets pulled together by an invisible force, both drawn to the challenge of besting each other.

“An ‘E’?” Draco yelled, his voice a discordant tune. His fingers gripped tightly around his parchment paper, knuckles red with anger.

The paper within your grasp was as smooth as a silk chiton. The bold and elegant "O" adorned on its front, like a crown to your victory, brought a smirk to your lips. You had him beat and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Upset, Malfoy?” You disputed, a note in your voice like a lyre. Your smile remained soft and yet, he thought of cursing you with his bitter tongue.

“Upset?” His mouth formed a thin, cruel line. "Hardly." he scoffed. His tone dripped with derision. To be beaten by a witch, raised as a Muggle was unfathomable, and his ego was wounded by a cut that ran deeper than the River Styx.

“A slip of paper does not define my intelligence, or my abilities as a wizard. I am above something as trivial as a ‘paper’.” His words sought to mask his envy, but his jealousy was palpable as it hung in the air like a noxious cloud.

“Sure, Malfoy.”

After that, Draco dreaded the moment you would mention this defeat again, but you never did—seeing him seethe in his seat was enough and that infuriated him. He had always been better than you academically, but this time he fell short, and he concluded your silence was to ridicule him.

He sought you out one day, finding you before you made a turn to the library. With his lips raised in their familiar scowl, he approached you with long strides. “Think you’re better than me, eh?” Draco tucked his hands into the pockets of his robe, his gaze grey and uninviting.

A look of confusion drew onto your face. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! You know what I’m talking about.” He huffed. He pulled his hands from his pockets. “You get an ‘outstanding’ and you don’t taunt me about it like I do you.”

Your brows weaved together like a basket of wool on a spindle. “I suppose you wouldn’t want me to...?” He took a second too long to reply. “Did you want me to?”

The question hung in the air like a golden apple poised to be picked and he turned to the wall beside you, as if he expected to find his answer there. “Of course not, that’s ridiculous.” He scoffed, his words sharp like the blades of a scythe.

“You think everything is ridiculous.” You retorted. “Besides, I don’t understand. You’re confronting me because I’m not mocking you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked away again, his mind knotty with labyrinthine thoughts. His mouth moved to speak but your words slipped before his could. “I have to get to the library.”

Behind him, more students began to file into the room, their steps light but hurried like the gentle whisper of the wind. You clasped your books tighter to your chest. “Would you like to join?”

He heard you shift your feet and thought you were reconsidering your question when he turned to you again. You still held that gentle glow in your eyes and he hated that he nearly lost himself in them—an absurd moment of weakness. You thought you saw a warmth in his own, like a hint of willingness, or maybe a spark of wonder, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“No.” He rounded you, his lips raised in disgust.

Studying with a half-blood would be a mind-numbing exercise, like another torturous case like the Cruciatus Curse. He hated that you had even considered it. He would never waste his time with someone below him, even the thought sparked an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. Your sick proposal jabbed into his brain whenever he saw you, and he thought that was bad enough, until you joined a Quidditch team.

There’s never been a more pathetic sight than when you walked on the field, your gaze to the cloudless sky. He wanted to laugh—you, playing Quidditch? You were clumsy enough on the ground.

He dropped his feet to the ground, his broom still between his legs. “Joining the team, eh?” His lips raised into his characteristic sneer. “I don’t see how you could possibly beat me.”

You turned your head with his words, your eyebrows raised in merriment. “I don’t need to beat you; this is just for fun.” You can’t recall a time when Draco didn’t want to challenge you.

His mouth curled into an entertained frown. “Is that a Nimbus 2000?” He gestured to the broomstick in your hand.

“It is.” You twirled it. “Pretty, isn’t it? I might consider painting it as well. Maybe a green?” You smiled with a joking sweetness. “For when Slytherin loses, don’t want to hurt their ego too much, do we?”

He was a little taken aback by your remark, but he couldn’t deny that he found your challenge humorous. “Slytherin, losing?” He laughed with a tilt of his head.

“How about a race then? You and I, for the Golden Snitch.” His grey eyes were firm, and his lips upturned into a daring smirk. “The one who catches it first wins. What do you say?”

“What’s in it for me?”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “We’ll see if you win.”

“And what about for you, what would you want?”

“For you to admit that I’m superior.”

Students gathered to the field, all adorn in their respective uniform and magical badges on their hearts. Draco’s name sparkled more often on their chests than yours, and he smirked with a haughty tilt of his chin. He was confident it would prick your nerves, so the Slytherin flew over, his hair flowing with the wind like the silver feathers of a Pegasus.

“See, I am superior to you.” He sniggered.

Your head shook. “I doubt it, they don’t know what I’m capable of just yet.” Your tone dripped sweetly with poison, like the honeyed words of the serpent Python. No one hated you; they were just a little less expectant of your skills in Quidditch, you were sure of it.

Draco pulled his lips together in an amused frown. “Right, let’s see what you’ve got.”

The Snitch was raised by Marcus Flint, the golden sphere in his fingers like a prize for superiority. The wings unravelled from their place to flail in the air, and it shone intimidatingly between yourself and your rival.

Marcus, on the edge of his broom, flashed his vile teeth. “Close your eyes,” he commanded. The both of you did, letting the Golden Snitch tour its way around the huge field. “Now, open! Start!” He flew away from the scene just as you and Draco opened your eyes.

Your heads twisted and turned in search for the golden bug, eyes narrowed between the crowd, below your feet, and above your heads. Until there it was, flying freely near the Gryffindors. You sped first, your head tilted to fight the air resistance. Draco was on your tail a second after, his hands tight around his broom as he fought to speed passed you.

“Don’t think you have the upper hand.” He laughed, his voice loud against the strong wind. He flew by quickly, his platinum hair flowing freely behind him.

The two of you raced, neck and neck, towards the Snitch. Draco kept his lips between his teeth as he glided, his broom making sharp turns and sudden spirals towards the bug, as it flew erratically like a crazed Phoenix.

The competition was intense, the rush from the chase filling your lungs with an excitement that gave a natural high. The crowd cheered as you dashed through the air, surprised at your pace against an experienced seeker. They jumped and joyously screamed as the two of you flew to the golden ball.

The Snitch seemed to flicker in the sun, tempting you and Draco to close the gap and claim the win. The platinum blond was focused, his gaze narrowed like lasers and movements precise as he grew closer.

You neared each other, arms out and the tension high. The crowd held their collective breath, waiting to catch the win. With every turn and twist of your broom, Draco matched your speed. Despite his closing pale body, your determined eyes remained on the ball.

With a burst of speed, you brushed against him and shoved his body aside. You soared through the air, fingers out to the ball. Only a little closer…

Your fingers barely grazed it, until finally, you clenched it in your grasp. You held the Snitch and its golden glow shimmered in the sun. The entire crowd erupted in a chorus of cheers as they threw their Draco badges to the floor. You had won.

A sigh of disbelief left your throat as you turned to your opponent. Draco had no words to express his lost, nor could he find his speech when you playful winked at him. His cheeks flushed with a faint pink.

He felt silly blushing at something he’d already seen. You’d winked at him before, but this time, it made him feel vulnerable. And as you turned to the crowd, your eyes gentle and smile wide, the feeling began to consume him. It was almost compelling, the sight of you proud without any irritation on your features. He wanted to hate it— ‘that’s a bloody half-blood you’re looking at’ he wanted to say.

But the wind ruffled your hair, the warm sun kissed against your skin, and you had won. He was meant scoff and roll his eyes, but instead, he felt a strange sort of admiration.

And now, as he watched the light dance in your eyes, he felt a stirring in his chest that he couldn’t explain. He wanted to look away—to find a reason to, but he couldn’t. There was something addictive with the way your hair billowed in the wind, and he was sure that even if he was to swim in the banks of the river Lethe, your smile wouldn’t erase from his memory.

Then, following that—and he wished he never would have to admit—he began to notice things that he hadn’t before. He memorised the way your lips would part, and you would facepalm whenever you’d say the wrong answer in class. He noticed how you would fiddle with your fingers—though he wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or just a bored habit.

He admired your different hairstyles from a distance. You’d change it every day, but he found it the prettiest whenever you would braid it. He loved the way the strands would interweave like wool on a spindle, and the way it would reflect the light whenever the sun grazed you.

His words began to trip at the sight of you. So even when you had surpassed his grade in Charms, he kept his lips sealed. It was embarrassing enough to admit to himself that he found you somewhat pretty and it would be even more so if he was to stutter in your face. So slowly, his banter towards you died.

“Malfoy?”

You approached him one day, on a weekend when everyone would be heading off to Hogsmeade. He was sitting on a bench by the fountain outside, his legs relaxed and eyes focused on nothing in particular.

“You coming to Hogsmeade as well?” Your voice was gentle as ever, although it was never really harsh even when you threw playful insults at him.

He raised his gaze. There was something unfamiliar with the way he looked at you now, but you supposed it was the way the sun hit his grey irises.

“Yes.” It’s all he says, like the time you had asked if he wanted to join you in the library.

“I heard Blaise is there already, why aren’t you with him now?”

He blinked. He wanted to hate the way your voice played gracefully like a lyre. “He’s with a girl.”

His responses were short—something you wished you could understand. Nothing was the same after the race, and you weren’t sure it was because you had won.

“Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?”

There it was again, that gentleness in your voice that would make him weak in the knees these days. He was grateful he was sitting then because otherwise his legs would buckle beneath him.

“No.”

You looked aside briefly, trying to find the words that might comfort him. There were butterflies where you gazed, and they fluttered their wings around gracefully like a dance against the wind. You remembered when Professor Lupin had said they were a symbol of new beginnings, and that memory brought an idea to your mind.

“I’m asking you to join me to Hogsmeade.” You told him. “Please come with me.” You wanted it to sound like a kind command, to which he had no choice but to accept.

He raised a brow at your proposal, hesitant. “Draco?”

You’d never said his name so gently before. It was always filled with a hint of tease, or a slight annoyance, but as you stood in front of him in the daring sun, your voice played like a plead.

He considered it. The two of you had never exchanged a proper conversation before; maybe you would embarrass yourself and his weird feelings would wash away. You were pretty, that’s all, and maybe after this, he would think otherwise. His dumb feelings would disappear and everything would be back to normal.

The corners of his mouth raised slightly. “Okay.”

The two of you walked together, soundlessly awkward smiles on your lips and minds whirled with sweet joy. You both tried to hide your enjoyments, looking away from each other as you made your way into The Three Broomsticks.

“Is it good?” You sat across from him, at a wooden booth inside of the store.

His forehead creased with slight disappointment as he licked foam from his lips. “I should’ve asked for less cider.” He tightened his fingers around his Butterbeer.

“Try mine, I asked for less sugar.” You pushed your drink forwards, offering a gentle smile.

He had never shared a food or drink with anyone—it wasn’t something he was accustomed to. His mother had always told him the proper etiquette to decline, but as you offered him your drink, he couldn’t deny.

He brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip. It was better than his, less sweet like he prefers most things. He gave a nod.

“This one’s better. Mine tastes like Honeydukes melted as one and put into a cup.” He pulled his lips up into his familiar scowl, but there was a playful charm in it now.

You grabbed his cup and pushed yours closer to him. “Take mine, I’ll drink yours.” He didn’t reply to your offering before you pulled his cup to your lips.

He chuckled lightly when you pulled it away and a white foam formed around your mouth like a moustache. “You remind me of that Muggle.” He said, his teeth peering from behind his lips.

 Your eyebrows knitted together. “What?”

“That Muggle. The one with the white moustache and beard?”

“There are a lot of those — are you referring to Santa Claus?” There’s a chuckle of disbelief that followed your words. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know his name?”

He parted his lips about to defend himself, when a figure crossed behind you, and a scowl fell onto Draco’s features. His grey eyes rose and fell with disdain.

“Potter.” He spat with a roll of his eyes. “Let’s get out of here.” He stood from the wooden seat, his eyes still following Harry behind you with irritation.

You wiped your lips with the back of your sleeve. “But we haven’t finished our Butterbeer.”

Draco gripped your arm as he slipped by you, pulling you with him as he exited the bar. You followed him with hurried steps as you tried to match his longer strides.

“You know, it’s not every day that I can have a butterbeer, Malfoy. I had to save those galleons to earn such a prize.” You spoke.

He continued to walk until he could barely see The Three Broomsticks behind him. “I’ll buy you a Butterbeer next time. I’ll even buy you two if it means I never have to see Potter again.” He released his grip from your arm.

“What do hate about him so much?”

“He’s irritating.”

You decided not to argue with him. “Fair.”

Not long after, the pair of you set foot into Honeydukes, the coolness of the air brushing against your cheeks as you entered. It smelt of vanilla and chocolate with a hint of baking pastries.

Draco followed closely behind as you ventured the store, his eyes scanning the shelves along with you. He didn’t enjoy sweets as much, but he couldn’t deny that he found your company nice. So, he only watched as you admired the colours and wacky flavours displayed.

He picked up a string of liquorice. “You enjoy this stuff?” He asked with a slight distaste in his tone.  “This is all just sugar.”

He dropped the lolly as you shrugged. “I haven’t tried any of these. Well, besides that disgusting liquorice that Blaise offered me.” Your fingers curled around the pentagonal box of a Chocolate Frog packet.

“Blaise talks to you?”

You turned your head slightly with a furrow of your eyebrows. “Of course Blaise talks to me. Why shouldn’t he?”

His grey eyes sank into yours. “It’s not like we’re rivals.” You continued, dropping the packet back onto the shelf as you turned your body towards him.

“I’m not implying that you and I are,” you added for clarification. “I’m just asking, is it that difficult to understand that I can be friends with your friends as well?”

Draco’s lips raised with a slight amusement. “Your choice of words insinuates that we’re rivals.” He plays with the end of his sleeve. “Besides, Blaise never talked about you, so I assumed you two never got along. Don’t get offended when I barely offered a reply.”

Your mouth dropped a little with embarrassment. “I’m not offended.” Your toned raised. “I’m just clarifying, that’s all.”

“Then don’t.”

You pursed your lips. “Okay then.”

He looked down at you with a glint in his eyes, a dumbfounded expression plastered on his face. Your hair fell against your cheeks when you lowered your gaze, and his lips curled upwards slightly. For a moment, you wondered if he was going to speak, but he only looked away with a faint blush.

You turned away as well, finding your focus on the colours of the sweets again. He watched from a distance, trying to keep his gaze calculated so he didn’t look at you for too long. But whenever you lingered over a treat for a beat too long, he found it impossible not to catch a glimpse of you. His lips would always tug into a small smile, almost as if you were a secret between the two of you.

His grey eyes caught you again when you spoke. “They have lollipops?” You scooped into the colourful mix of lollies. “I haven’t had a lollipop in years!”

Draco considered a thought. “Do you want one?” He moved closer and grazed his fingers against the glass bowl of sweets.

“Yes I’d love one, but maybe next time.” You smiled at him, your eyes shining delicately below the lanterns of the store. “I spent too much already on that Butterbeer—that I didn’t get to finish by the way.” Your smile widened with your words, a joking tone playing on your tongue.

Draco bit his lip to stop a grin, but there was an obvious rise in his cheeks. He doesn't understand how he brought himself to be so rude to you, you were so endearing. You moved around him to reach a case of chocolates, when he picked the glass bowl of lollipops from its stand.

“Draco, what are you doing?” He ignored you as he pulled the crystal casing closer to his chest, a sense of determination on his face.

He dropped the bowl onto the front counter. “These.” The cashier looked at him with a face of distress before she began to count the lollipops.

“You’re going to eat all of that?” You asked once you stood beside him. You were in disbelief as he continued to snatch chocolates and other sweets from below the counter and the shelves behind him.

“No, you will.” He said nonchalantly. He picked a chocolate from another shelf. “Did you want these as well?” He barely let you reply before he stacked the packets and dropped it onto the counter.

Your mouth parted. “You’re absurd, put it back. I can’t eat all of that.” You reached over, in an attempt to move the lollies away, when he stopped you.

His fingers wrapped around your forearm. “You can. It’s my treat for the butterbeer you didn’t finish.”

“This is worth way more than just a Butterbeer, Draco.”

A smile slipped onto his cheeks when you said his name. “It’s my treat then.” He pulled his hand away. “For being such an ass to you.”

You dragged your lip beneath your teeth to contain a grin as Draco scanned the woman behind the counter. “My father will pay for this, I’m sure you know who that is.” She nodded in return, pushing the lollies into a bag before handing it to him.

Draco grabbed the plastic and turned to the door with a smirk. He looked at you from his side. “Let’s try the lollipops you wanted so bad.” He took a few steps in front as you stalled.

“I didn’t want them ‘so bad’!”

“Yeah, whatever.” You laughed as you ran towards him, mouth wide with joy, and eyes shaped like crescent moons.

“You still owe me something for winning the race, though. This doesn’t count!”

“Yeah, alright.” He turned to you with a soft gaze, his face adorned by a delicate smile. You couldn’t recall a time when he'd smiled so gently.

“Want to race to the castle?” You asked, pulling your lip beneath your teeth. The sight made his heart stutter, and the playful tone of your voice made him weaker still. He nodded, and without warning, you took off—your hair flowing freely behind you.

He followed right after, the bag still in his hands as he approached from behind. The sun cast a soft, golden glow around you like an eclipse, highlighting your form in a warm, comforting light. The sun setting over the horizon was breathtaking, but your silhouette in front of it made it all the more captivating, and Draco knew then that beauty was much more than just his jewels.

He had always thought of beauty in abstract terms. It was something for the muggles to fawn over, not something that a pure-blood like him needed to concern himself with. He was accustomed to things being a certain way, and he knew it was foolish, to suddenly find the appeal in something so absurd; to fall for someone who was deemed lower than him. But he couldn’t help it, he was drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

"Beauty is symmetry," Aristotle had said.  But for Draco, beauty was more. It was a feeling, a sensation that he couldn't quite explain. It was the way the sun caught your hair at just the right angle, the way you laughed.

Suddenly, beauty was the sound of parchment, the smell of butterbeer and Honeydukes, and the scene of the sun setting over the horizon. You were like a breath of fresh air, like the sunlight after a storm. Suddenly, he understood why everyone fell to your feet.

For the first time in his life, Draco realised that beauty wasn't only a fleeting moment of time, nor was it something that could be defined, it was something that existed beyond words. It was a feeling, a sensation, that he couldn't really understand. But he knew it when he saw it, when he felt it.

And he knew that he was falling in love with you.

𓍼 batboys x hugging

Dick

big time hugger

and extremely shameless about it

randomly goes up to ppl and hugs them

usually does it from behind while resting his head on their shoulder

once you got together though he stopped hugging random batfam members since now he can annoy you with it and just hug you whenever he wants

always has his hands on you somehwere

mostly wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head in the crook of your neck

loves being the big spoon and just holding you

gets whiny when he doesn’t get to engulf you in a hug

Jason

he would never admit it or say it out loud but he loves hugs

it’s an unspoken thing- you never talk about it or bring it up, but you both know that each of you needs it and you just do it silently and softly

he could never get enough of touching you or you touching him and your arms wrapped around each other

he’ll just randomly come up behind you and wrap his arms around your shoulders and under your chin and rest his head on top of yours since he’s so tall

loves it when he’s laying on his back and you’re on top of him with your head in the crook of his neck

he has mommy and daddy issues so he likes getting babied but also babying you

totally the little spoon. but he loves holding onto you as well bc it eases his nerves knowing you’re safe in his arms

Tim

he’s tired pretty much 24/7 so he likes sloppy hugs

when he’s working at a desk and you walk by, he’ll stop you by your wrist and nuzzle his head into your stomach and put your arms around his neck kinda hiding his face with your arms

same thing when he’s sitting down on the couch or his bed and you just wanna walk by, he’ll pull you towards him and press his head into the side of your stomach and take your arm and put it around his head

sometimes he’ll just completely plop himself on top of you when you’re laying down somewhere and nuzzle his head in the crook of your neck

he also likes it when you do it to him bc he likes feeling a heavy body on top of him, it calms him

he loves laying on his stomach in between your legs and having his head on your lower stomach listening to the weird sounds it makes

Damian

would rather die than let anyone know he likes hugs

black cat energy

he’s super whiny when he finally does let you hug him

but not because he doesn’t like it (or pretends he doesn’t) it’s because he doesn’t wanna let go. like ever.

in private he’ll let you hug him whenever you want

in fact, whenever it’s just the two of you, he practically attacks you bc he’s so touch starved

he’ll hug you really suddenly really fast and really hard, and stay like that for a few seconds before he loosens his grip on you a little and lazily keeps holding onto you

after a while he’ll just start not to care and hug you whenever he wants even if ppl are around. if one of his brothers makes a stupid comment though trust they will be dealt with

…