₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧DoveDreams ♡₊˚ ・₊✧

22, she/her, 18+ blog, mdni

[doeyeddaydream]

Welcome ✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

What I write:

♡ The lost boys

♡ house of wax

Fluff/horror/smut/angst

I take suggestions and ideas, so feel free to pop something in my inbox! I'll try to get round to them, but if something in particular inspires me I'll be happy to write something! :3 <3

[i-heart-slashers]

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: dwayne x female reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Dwayne doesn't speak much but he's possessive, watchful, violently protective, and dangerously affectionate once he decides you're his — and unfortunately for you he's deicded you're his.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 800 words

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: stalking. being Watched. implied captivity. dark themes. dangerous attraction. yandere themes.

The boardwalk lights blurred into streaks of neon as you wandered through the evening crowd, the salt air thick with popcorn, ocean spray, and something sharper—danger. Santa Carla had that reputation, but you’d come anyway, drawn by the wild freedom of the place after a life that felt too small, too ordinary.

You didn’t notice him at first.

Dwayne stood like a shadow among the chaos, long dark hair framing a face carved from quiet menace. Tall, broad-shouldered, leather jacket hugging a body built for violence. His brothers laughed and snarled around him—David’s icy smirk, Paul’s wild energy, Marko’s feral grin—but Dwayne rarely spoke. He watched.

And that night, his eyes locked onto you.

You were laughing at something a guy in the video store had said, a harmless flirtation while you browsed tapes. Dwayne’s jaw tightened. The world narrowed to the way that stranger leaned too close, the way your smile lit up the night like it belonged to anyone but him.

He moved before he thought. Silent as death, he was suddenly there, one hand clamping down on the guy’s shoulder hard enough to make bone creak.

“Walk away,” Dwayne said, voice low and even. No shouting. No threatening. Just fact.

The guy paled and bolted. You blinked up at the stranger, heart stuttering at the intensity in those dark eyes. “Uh… thanks? I think?”

Dwayne didn’t smile; he just stared, drinking you in like a man dying of thirst who’d finally found water. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

His voice wrapped around you, deep and rough like distant thunder. Something in it made your skin prickle—not entirely with fear.

From that night on, he was always nearby.

You’d catch glimpses: a tall figure leaning against a lamppost when you left work at the comic shop. The rumble of a motorcycle trailing just far enough behind your bike rides along the beach. Once, when a group of surf nazis catcalled you near the bonfires, they disappeared by morning. Found later in pieces, the papers said. “Animal attack.” Dwayne never mentioned it.

He just appeared at your door the next evening with that same unreadable stare. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, stepping inside when unwittingly invited. His presence filled the small beach house you rented, all quiet power and leather and something metallic underneath... like blood.

You should have been terrified, but instead, a dark thrill curled in your stomach when he looked at you like that. Like you were the only real thing in his endless night.

One night, after too many close calls with his “brothers” watching you like fresh meat, you tried to pull away. You told him you needed space, that this—whatever this was—was moving too fast. That you didn’t even know him, not really.

Dwayne went still. The air grew heavy, thick with the weight of his silence.

He crossed the room in two strides, backing you against the wall. One hand braced beside your head, the other gently—too gently—cupping your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed your lower lip, possessive and tender all at once.

“You think you can leave?” he whispered. His voice stayed soft, but the edge beneath it was razor-sharp. “I’ve watched you every night. I know how you breathe when you’re scared. How your heart races when you feel me near. You’re mine, little one. I killed for you before I even tasted your name on my tongue.”

Your breath hitched. “Dwayne…”

He leaned in, forehead resting against yours, eyes half-lidded with something between worship and madness. “The others don’t touch what’s mine. That boy who smiled at you yesterday? He won’t smile again. Anyone who looks too long, talks too sweet—they disappear. Because you belong in the dark with me. Where no one else can have you.”

His lips ghosted over yours, not quite a kiss yet—a promise. “I’ll turn you when you’re ready. Make you eternal. Strong. Untouchable. But until then… you stay close. You let me keep you safe.”

He finally kissed you then—slow, deep, devouring. Like he was sealing a vow written in blood. When he pulled back, his eyes had that dangerous gleam, the one that said love and obsession were the same word to him.

“I’d burn this whole town to ash if it meant keeping you,” he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face with surprising gentleness. “And I’d enjoy every second of it. Because you’re the only light I’ve got left… and I won’t share.”

The ocean crashed against the cliffs, and somewhere in the distance, the rest of the pack howled with laughter. But in your little house, there was only Dwayne—silent, watchful, and utterly, dangerously yours.

He smiled then. Small. Rare. Terrifyingly sweet.

“Say you’re mine.”

And with no other choice… you did.

[doeyeddaydream]

Hiii! I’m not sure if ur still taking them, but would u do any requests for yandere tlb? Love ur writing btw! Take care ❤️

Hi anon! Apologies for answering super late, I've been very absent from writing as of late due to being very busy at Uni, but I DO have a yandere tlb WIP that I started ages ago that I really wanna get finished so I might get something out soon :)

[darkmaga-retard]

[querulousglare]

If only there were some sort of facility where teenagers could be taught new skills.

[grimthetransman]

Anyway, here's a helpful diagram. When I was hit on the temple this was one of the harder things I had to reteach myself. Don't be shamed into not asking questions, and it's alright if it takes you a while to figure it out. Don't let someone make you feel bad for learning new things, or relearning old ones.

Sometimes, unfortunately, you have to teach yourself. YouTube is a valid option.

[yeahokayillreblogthat]

yeah okay ill reblog that :]

[cricketcat9]

If you don't know...here it is.

[televisionenjoyer]

"girlmath" "girldinner" girl help overthrow the fascist regime NOW

[orpheusgirl]

in honor of black history month 2025, i’ve put together a list of books written by black sapphic authors for you to read in the month of february

non-fiction essays/memoirs:

all about love: new visions by bell hooks

black lesbian in white america by anita cornwell

sister outsider: essays and speeches by audre lorde

mouths of rain: an anthology of black lesbian thought by briona simone jones

blues legacies and black feminism by angela davis

does your mama know?: an anthology of black lesbian coming out stories by lisa c. moore

fiction:

the color purple by alice walker

loving her by ann allen shockley

the gilda stories by jewelle gomez

in another place, not here by dionne brand

pomegranate by helen elaine lee

the summer we got free by mia mckenzie

these letters end in tears by musih tedji xaviere

dead in long beach, california by venita blackburn

girl, woman, other by bernadine evaristo

young adult:

escaping mr. rochester by l.l. mckinney

this ravenous fate by hayley dennings

faebound by saraa el-arifa

so let them burn by kamilah cole

where sleeping girls lie by faridah àbíké-íyímídé

adult:

honey girl by morgan rogers

the deep by rivers solomon

sweet vengeance by viano oniomoh

come back (love concealed) by terri ronald

house of hunger by alexis henderson

short stories:

the secret lives of church ladies by deesha philyaw

additional info:

-> “why wasn’t this book listed?” probably because it wasn’t black sapphic-centric, the author isn’t a black sapphic themself, or i just simply haven’t heard of it! so feel free to add on if it meets those two criteria

many of these books require trigger warnings, especially some of the older ones that are more likely to feature racial struggles of the time. please do your due diligence and search for tws if you want to read them!

please feel free to add onto this list in the rbs or comments! happy black history month

[lovingrot]

viciously and fatally attacked by an unknown animal at Claire’s

[wherehipposdrome]

that was no animal, that was Claire herself

[regbian-moved-to-lezbianz]

the claire witch project

[candyredterezii]

[mens-rights-activia]

So I typed in ‘black history moth’ instead of ‘black history month’ and discovered this gem

Happy Black History Moth everybody

[whatisgoingonpaul]

I think marko just straight up has a ponytail in the whole time but he just has so much fucking hair it doesn’t look like it. Except for certain angles

[chimilkie]

no, totally, you can actually see the elastic/tie holding back the top half of the curls in some shots when he turns his head :)

[whatisgoingonpaul]

!!!! I also noticed in this one

MARKO IS WEARING A PONYTAIL 90% OF THE MOVIE PEOPLE WAKE UP

[markosmate]

KDBDKSN joining this thread real quick cause the best shot of it is in the video shop scene!!

[krunkidile]

found you a new hat.

[passumbapper]

[littleguysdaily]

[jitterfidget-deactivated2026071]

look at this tiny baby

i literally have like about 225 questions i have to answer by like tomorrow and also another assignment tomorrow and two due on friday

anyway i drew marko as this stewpid little meme

If anyone knows who originally made this silly meme picture please lmk so I can properly credit them!

[random-jot]

[geosie]

[samshepard]

shoutout to everyone dealing with. thhe fucking difficulty

[rosemochi]

the fact that all of my mutuals immediately reblogged this from me really says something about all of us, doesn't it

[yourhostfortheevening]

I LOVE YOUR ART! PLEASE ANYTHING WITH DWAYNE DOING SOMETHING LOUD WILD AND STUPID LIKE THE OTHERS WOULD. PLEASE! 😩 Yes he seemed quieter but I refuse to believe that makes him the smart, sensible one. I know in my bones he was just as dumb as the others.

I uh dunno if this is what you meant

[zigzagziggyyy]

𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆

═════════ ∘◦ ✞ ◦∘ ═════════

𝐴𝑟𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠, 𝑜𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑖𝑟, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘, 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠. 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑠, 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘-ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛’𝑡 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐻𝑒’𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.

═════════ ∘◦ ✞ ◦∘ ═════════

𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦.

✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞

𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞, 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞.

Word count - 1,300

✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞✞

“𝐒𝐞𝐞? 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮,” Mark said, his voice a little too loud over the clamor. He gestured grandly at the plush toy in your hand. “𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡, 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫.” He’d said it with such earnest conviction that you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from a place of genuine amusement.

You felt a little silly, clutching a lopsided, neon-teal plush dolphin, a trophy from a rigged claw machine that defied logic. But Mark, your date from your new job, was a walking, talking cliché of endearing awkwardness, and this date was his attempt at a lighthearted escape from the drudgery of spreadsheets and office small talk. He’d insisted on proving his “skill” at the arcade games, and while he’d failed spectacularly at air hockey, you’d inexplicably pulled off a miraculous victory with the claw machine on your first try.

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬,” you retorted with a smile, turning the dolphin over in your hand. “𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥.” You nudged his arm playfully. “𝐒𝐨, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞?”

“𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞,” he said, grinning.

“𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐫,” you corrected with mock seriousness, adjusting the toy’s floppy fins. “𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞.”

“𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡. 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬,” he conceded, holding his hands up in surrender. “𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧’𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭.” He ran a hand through his slightly-too-long hair. “𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐮𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭?”

You shook your head. “𝐍𝐚𝐡, 𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐢𝐫. 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰.”

Mark nodded, already turning to navigate the maze of blinking lights and chiming machines. “𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚, 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞!” he called over his shoulder, a final, cheesy joke before he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to your own devices.

Left alone, clutching your unlikely prize, you wandered towards the wooden railing that separated the boardwalk from the expansive, inky canvas of the Pacific. The ocean, restless and murmuring, stretched out beneath a bruised twilight sky. The last vestiges of the sunset bled into shades of bruised purple and deep orange on the horizon, painting the waves with a fleeting, ethereal glow. It was beautiful, a calming counterpoint to the raucous energy behind you.

You breathed deeply, letting the cool, damp air fill your lungs, feeling the subtle vibration of the boardwalk beneath your worn sneakers. The dolphin, a garish shade of teal, dangled from your hand, its button eyes seeming to stare blankly at the darkening sea.

As your gaze drifted along the shoreline, past the twinkling lights of the amusement park rides, something caught your eye. On the far end of the boardwalk, near where the asphalt gave way to the beach, a small cluster of figures loitered by a row of motorcycles. Even from this distance, their presence felt like a disruption, a discordant note in the otherwise cheerful evening. There were four of them, clad in long coats, ripped denim, and layered shirts, their bikes gleaming with a dangerous allure.

You’d only been in Santa Carla a few weeks, enough time to learn the best coffee shop and the quickest route to the grocery store, but not enough to pick up on the local legends or the whispered warnings. So, when you saw them, you had no context, no stories of missing tourists or strange occurrences to draw upon. Yet, an instinctive prickle crawled up your spine. It wasn’t just their leather jackets or the casual way they leaned against their powerful machines; it was something in their collective posture, a predatory stillness that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it.

Trouble. The word surfaced unbidden in your mind, sharp and insistent. You couldn’t explain it, but you knew it. They radiated it - an aura of danger that clung to them like smoke.

You lingered at the edge of the boardwalk, eyes drawn to the group before you. They didn’t move like everyone else around here. There was a reckless ease about them, as though the night belonged to them and they had no need to rush. One of them, a lean blonde, threw his head back with a grin that caught the light, his laughter carrying faintly across the din of the crowd. Another, with a shock of spiky hair, shifted restlessly, his boots scuffing against the wood as if patience was a foreign concept.

You should have looked away. Any sane person would’ve. But something about them - about the way they owned the shadows , held you fast.

And then your gaze found him.

He stood slightly apart, leaning against a motorcycle with an indolent kind of grace. Dark hair spilled around his shoulders, catching none of the light, as if it swallowed the glow instead. He wasn’t part of their banter, wasn’t feeding off their energy. He was still. Watchful.

At first you thought you were simply observing him, cataloguing another detail to your silent impression of the group. But a strange shiver slid down your spine, prickling the back of your neck. You became aware -too aware -of the air between you. Slowly, your eyes adjusted to the dimming light, tracing the line of his face.

That was when you realized.

He was already staring at you.

Not just looking in your direction, but fixed - sharp and unflinching - as if he’d been waiting for you to finally notice. The moment your eyes met his, the rest of the boardwalk seemed to blur and fall away. His gaze locked with yours, and it wasn’t chance. It was deliberate.

He was already watching.

The world seemed to narrow to a single thread - his gaze and yours, pulled taut across the crowded boardwalk. For a long, breathless moment, neither of you moved. You weren’t sure if you couldn’t look away, or if you simply didn’t want to.

Then, so subtly it was almost imagined, the corner of his mouth curved. A faint, knowing smirk, there and gone, like a secret meant only for you. It sent a jolt through your chest, the kind that left you uncertain whether it was thrill or warning.

Your lips parted, though no words came. It felt dangerous to break the silence, as if sound itself might shatter the strange pull holding you in place.

“𝐁𝐨𝐨.”

You nearly leapt out of your skin. A hand clapped lightly against your arm, dragging you back to reality. You turned sharply, heart hammering, to find your date grinning at you, clearly pleased with himself for making you jump.

“𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱,” he laughed, slipping casually to your side as though he hadn’t just startled the life out of you. “𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞?”

You forced a breath, trying to steady yourself, but the air still felt charged. Your eyes flicked instinctively back across the boardwalk, back to the shadows, back to him.

But when your gaze returned, it wasn’t only him.

The one with the short spiky hair stood there now too, his long black coat shifting in the evening breeze, a cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers. He was staring straight at you, lips curved into a sharp smirk that mirrored the one you’d just seen.

Both of them were staring at you. Watching

The dark-haired one , the one who had been staring all along , was no longer smirking. His gaze had shifted, colder now, sharper. He looked between you and Mark with an intensity that rooted you to the spot, as though measuring the space between you, weighing something unspoken.

Mark followed the direction of your stare. The teasing light in his eyes was gone, replaced with recognition and something darker -frustration. His jaw clenched, and he let out a low curse under his breath.

“𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬… 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧,” he muttered, the words rough with a bitterness you hadn’t heard from him before. His shoulders squared, a flicker of history written in the tension of his body. He knew them. Not just in passing - he knew them enough to hate them. Enough to fear what they meant.

The air between the two groups thickened, charged with an energy that made your pulse quicken. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Just the quiet drag of a cigarette, the faint curl of smoke, and those stares - one mocking, one unreadable, both impossible to escape.

Then a sharp bark of laughter split the moment, coming from somewhere deeper in their cluster. Engines roared to life in unison, loud enough to shake the boards beneath your feet.

The spiky-haired one flicked his cigarette aside, sparks scattering, while his smirk lingered, daring you to look away. The dark-haired one didn’t join him at first. He lingered, his gaze still on you, the weight of it pressing down until your chest ached.

Finally, with one last deliberate look - direct, unflinching , he swung a leg over his bike. The machine snarled beneath him, headlights glaring like predatory eyes. Together, they tore away into the night, engines howling as the boardwalk swallowed their shadows.

But the impression of them -the smirk, the smoke, and most of all that stare, clung to you, etched into your mind with a permanence that left your skin prickling long after they’d gone.

♱━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♱ ♱━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♱

[the-ghost-of-tobi]

Hiii your art is so cute I love it, have you drawn star before? I like in the novelisation her and paul are pretty friendly, so seeing something with the both of them would be cool! :3

i have not actually! which sucks because she's actually really fun to draw c,: guess i just never got around to doing it...

i just have doodles from my sketchbook since i'm still trying to figure out how to draw her (so please, ignore how inconsistent these all are)

anyway i feel like paul and star would bond over dancing (and a shared love of bracelets lol)

more doodles under the cut i'm less happy with but decided to share anyway since they're star

(ft. the aforementioned bracelets)

[your-unfriendlyghost]

every year, around September, I seem to suddenly remember that graphite exists and can look very cool

coloring is both my favorite and least favorite part of drawing lol so it’s nice to not have to think about it at all and just focus on simple values, yk?