☆彡 𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗼𝗹𝗳
❛ can you just admit that i saved your life already? superman is here. i'm right in front of you! ❜
lois was sure that she would love
a human boy. not a werewolf. but
isaac lahey put a dent in th...
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ .*・。. AN ODE TO CLARK KENT .*・。. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
050. BE WITH US. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
——
Lois Lane was little, again.
Well, the version of Lois in the front of the car was little. As for the current version Lois in the back seat, she was still sixteen. But she wasn't actually there, so she supposed she was little again. Very little. Around the age she recalled her father started calling her by the nickname Little Lo.
Her eyes glanced around the old car, hanging onto each feature that she remembered from her childhood. They were vague with passed time but she noticed a few things.
Like the dice on the mirror, and the smell of clean linen from a air freshener that her dad hated the smell of but was out ruled by the majority vote that it was nice. And she felt the same lumpiness of the middle seat beneath her bottom, and the headrest she had broken so it would only go up so far, as well as the scratches on the left door from when she and Stiles had accidentally caught it with his father's keys when they were playing driver. Her finger brushed over the small marks before travelling to the pocket on the back of the passenger seat, where several pieces of scrappaper were tucked into the net, all with bright colours of crayons and felt tip pens. Mostly drawings of her and Stiles, and Peter, but a couple had her family on, alongside a singular one of a large tree. A really large tree.
"Yellow car! Yellow car!"
She flinched.
Lois' head shot up, forgetting the tree drawing, and she let the scene in the front seats steal her attention away from it.