#and the style in which i write for the characters is quite different

[ghost-bard]

HELLOOO

i bring a dao fic, featuring my two wardens, emile cousland and athima surana, in a double warden au :)

not an original idea, but its fun so ill write for it when i have ideas.

Recruitment goes through the Cousland origin, and is primarily from Emile's perspective as Athima has already been recruited at this point, and this is the last stop before heading to ostagar.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Greta & Valdin

contemporary fiction following two gay siblings who live together in central auckland

Greta, in her 20s, getting her masters and living on a shitty academic salary, getting over an unrequited crush, and exploring a new relationship

Valdin, in his 30s, who quit science for a tourism show, whose ex (he still isn’t over) is in his orbit again when work sends him to Argentina, and has to confront what he wants for his future

navigating adulthood, OCD, a messy eccentric Māori/Russian family

[britneyshakespeare]

i finished troilus and cressida today and no wonder they call it a problem play. honestly what was that

[mysticarcanum]

actually utopia losing that poll was good actually because it gave me an excuse to rewatch it and have a Category 10 Brain Event

[innerfare]

You See His Cabin For The First Time  

Summary: You see their cabin (or in Sabo's case, his bedroom at the RA base) for the first time.

Characters: Luffy, Usopp, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: He's literally so proud of just his hammock. Insists it can hold the both of you and could probably hold the entire crew if you tried, asks if you want to try, asks you if you’re sure when you say no. Definitely has a couple of dirty dishes that he’s forgotten about, as well as a few wrappers on the floor. Has some fishing poles, a net, quite a few different games, and a bookshelf that’s full of both comic books and snacks so that he doesn’t have to go all the way to the kitchen if he gets hungry in the middle of the night. 

Zoro: Your first thought is, why does it smell so freaking good in here? You expected dirty laundry strewn around and the stench of sweat and maybe a hint of metal from those blades he was always sharpening. And sure, there is a hint of metal in the air, probably more from the many weights against the wall than his swords, but it also smells fresh, like laundry detergent. He has his own wanted posters on his wall- not just the current one, but the old ones, too, all of them lined up in order so you can see his increasing bounty. He also has a collection of unique booze bottles from all over the world, his equivalent of keeping a map with pins in the locations he’s visited. Oh, and there’s an anatomy coloring book and some markers that belong to Chopper that Zoro keeps in his room because sometimes when Chopper is having a bad day, he wants to chill with his dad big bro. 

Sanji: Sparkling clean, and yet, he’ll apologize anyway because the pillows aren’t fluffy enough, the rug isn’t completely straight, etcetera. His closet is very well organized, all of his clothes ironed and properly taken care of (Sanji’s the rare type to actually read labels and do his laundry accordingly). His most prized possession is a book on the All Blue, which he’s poured over countless times, using color coded tabs to flag various pages and writing detailed notes in the margins. He also came across one of Zeff’s old wanted posters in Loguetown, and he keeps it framed next to his own, the closest thing he has to a family photo.

Usopp: You’re surprised to find he has quite a bit of clutter in his small space. He has a collection of different style slingshots and a surplus of supplies to fix them should they ever break, as well as literal boxes full of special stars and ammunition. He has an entire set up rigged on his desk to create more, and some plants in his windowsill to grow ingredients. In addition, his bookshelves are heavy with various collections of fables and tales; he’s working on his own and hopes to publish it one day, but he doesn’t talk about it because he’s worried nobody will take him seriously, and you only learn about it when you see the notebook he left on his bed. He also has a couple of fun hats, crazy sunglasses, and feather boas that he definitely pulls out when the Straw Hats get a little too drunk. Oh, and there’s a picture of his parents on his nightstand. 

Ace: His cabin is pretty sparse because he tends to travel light. He has a collection of animal teeth secured from a menagerie of wild beasts he’s taken down over the years, and he’s very proud of those teeth. He'll tell you about each one if you ask, is practically bursting at the seems with stories. He has way more animal teeth than he does clothing or books. Also has a pretty sick tiger pelt for a rug (he had intended it as a blanket, but he runs so hot he can’t actually sleep with it). He has Luffy’s wanted poster on his wall, and beside it, a note reminding himself to send money back to Dadan on the first of every month. Buried in the chest at the foot of his bed, he has the original ASL flag. 

Sabo: His bedroom at the Revolutionary Army’s base is a total bachelor pad, and when you see it for the first time, it wasn’t planned, so he’s a little embarrassed by the state of it. He has some dirty dishes he forgot about, some dirty laundry on the floor, and a pile of books on his bed. He spends virtually no time there and probably wouldn’t even have furniture beyond a mattress on the floor if it wasn’t provided by the Revolutionary Army as part of his living quarters. That being said, he did pin Luffy’s and Ace’s wanted posters to his wall, and he has a couple of different lotions and skincare products on his bathroom counter. 

Law: You don’t know what you were expecting- would it be sterile like an operating room? You’re surprised to see comic books and a few action figures. He has some records, too- a bit of rock, some low-key emo music- and to your complete and utter surprise, a candy wrapper on his nightstand. And then there’s the coin collection on his desk, tiny pieces of metal he picked up on his many travels. You’re careful not to have a big reaction to his personality showing through for once. 

“I like your action figures.” 

“They’re kind of childish, but-” 

You cut him off before he can dismiss his own interests as dumb. “No, they’re not. They’re cool.” 

Kid: It’s as messy and ostentatious as you’d expect, but he sheepishly tries to fold the leopard-print blanket crumpled on the bed and put some laundry in the hamper, though you quickly deduce he has no clue which clothes belong in the hamper and which go in his closet. It’s shocking to see him care what someone thinks. He has a pile of lipstick and nail polish on his desk and an impressive collection of weapons he’s stolen from various pirates; he could probably open a museum with all the weapons he has. Also has lots of tools he forgot were in there. TBH, he’s probably as shocked as you are by the state of his cabin because he spends most of his alone time in his workshop, anyway. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[thewatcher727]

Writing Tip - Portraying Characters Out Of Character

More writing tips

One of the most common criticisms in writing is when an established character is portrayed in a way that seems inconsistent with their usual traits or undergoes a sudden change in personality. The question is, is it wrong to want to write an established character in a different way?

My answer is that it’s fine if there is a plausible reason for it. For example, if John, who was previously a badass military guy, suddenly becomes a soft, joking character in a sequel, it’s going to make people wonder why his personality did a 180. The key to making a different portrayal plausible is through story and context. To explain this, I will use the video game Batman: Arkham Origins as an example.

We were first introduced to Arkham Batman in Batman: Arkham Asylum, which takes place during Bruce Wayne’s 11th year as Batman. In that game, Batman is portrayed as an experienced, highly skilled vigilante who is in complete control of his emotions. He never acts out when a situation goes wrong; instead, he calculates and plans his next move. Even though we see a few instances where he still carries the trauma of his childhood, his willpower is shown to be incredible. There are even rare moments when he makes jokes with Oracle. All in all, you get the sense this is a guy who knows what he’s doing.

Now let’s cut to Batman: Arkham Origins. This game is a prequel that takes place during Bruce’s second year as Batman. In this game, his personality is quite different, out of character so to speak. He is younger, angrier, and inexperienced. The game does an excellent job portraying how flawed Batman is through the small details. His fighting style is more raw and less polished compared to his later years. His suit looks bulkier and more thrown together rather than a single, cohesive design. We see him make mistakes when dealing with criminals. For example, in one cutscene, Batman is interrogating a guy named Loose Lips. As he holds Loose Lips up by the throat with one hand, he adjusts his footing and then chokes Loose Lips too hard, knocking him out. Batman acknowledges this by muttering, “Damn.” He is also very arrogant, underestimating the assassins that are out to get him and frequently telling Alfred he doesn’t need allies, determined to be a one-man army.

So, why do I consider this different portrayal good? The reason is that it fits the story they are trying to tell. Given the significant time gap between Origins and Asylum, it stands to reason that Batman would undergo some personality changes. The game provides an opportunity to show how Batman evolved from a young, reckless individual to the seasoned warrior we know later.

One of the best scenes is when, after nearly losing Alfred to Bane, Batman begins to doubt himself and considers giving up. Alfred, who finally understands why Bruce does what he does as Batman, encourages him to continue and let allies help him. Near the end, we see him working with James Gordon, hinting at how their relationship began to improve by the time of Asylum. We also see Batman working with Barbara to destroy Penguin’s weapons. This not only adds depth to Batman’s character, showing his capacity for growth and change, but it also sets up his future collaborations with characters like Oracle, Robin, and Nightwing. This development makes his later, more balanced and cooperative approach in Asylum and subsequent games feel earned and believable.

All in all, portraying a character out of character can be compelling if it aligns with the story and provides a logical progression. Batman’s arc in Arkham Origins shows he was flawed and needed to accept that he was not alone in his mission. Proper context and development are crucial in making these changes believable.

So, if you’re considering writing someone in a different way, keep this in mind and you’ll be good to go!

[threestarsinline]

Children's Books and Leather Jackets (Part I)

Jason Todd x reader one-shot

Summary: You couldn't love your job more. Or at least, that's what you thought, until Jason Todd started coming into the bookshop every week without fail, like clockwork. And then you form a connection that tilts your whole world on its axis.

Word Count: 13.6K (total of 29.2K)

Category: Lots and lots of fluff. Like, LOTS (plus some mutual pining, idiots in love, slow burn? and friends to lovers, and therefore, what all of that entails, mwah)

Warnings: Jason stealing your heart (and you stealing his)

Author’s note: Well, here's the proof that yes, I was writing hehehe. Anyway, enjoy this monster of a two-part fic, peace and love babes

>Part II

You loved your job. You really truly did. It might seem like a bold statement to make but when you spend your day to day in a quiet, lovely and vintage styled bookshop owned by the most wonderful couple of old people that you have ever met, who also treat you as their own granddaughter, you know that you could have it a lot worse in Gotham. You often forget that they are technically your bosses, or co-workers as they always corrected you when you referred to them as such.

Rose and Jimmy hired you a long time ago now, when they weren’t able to run the bookshop fulltime by themselves anymore due to the rise of popularity of the place (even though the customers were still just a close community of people from the neighborhood). And also because, after decades of running the bookshop, they wanted to finally kind of retire and do a few travels to places they wanted to see or visit their children scattered throughout the country.

So there you were, practically running all by yourself a small but successful business each week.

However, you weren’t bothered at all, it was perfect for you: working alone with no annoying co-workers or stressful deadlines, a flexible schedule since Rose and Jimmy would replace you here and there whenever you needed it and giving you free days out of the blue. 

It also didn’t hurt that the job allowed you to stay in touch with the thing that you loved the most: books. Pages, full of stories that could transport you anywhere, to any time. Words, creating characters that became your family and made you laugh while also breaking your heart with their tragedies. And the possibility of sharing all of this with the people who came into the bookshop from all kinds of different backgrounds made it all even better.

Let’s just say that you couldn’t believe your luck when you got this job. Your day to day consisted of, among other things, attending customers, organizing the bookshelves, doing inventory and most of all: reading. There were certain moments of the day in which the shop was quite uneventful so you would seize those moments by doing all the reading that you could.

You really thought that you couldn’t love your job more. But that was until a gorgeous and very mysterious young man with a white streak in his hair started coming every week into the shop and giving you a smile every time that he left. 

You got it bad.

And your crush on Jason Todd did nothing but increase. You were sure that that man was going to be the death of you.

The first time that Jason walked into the bookshop you were surprised to say the least. You had never seen him in the shop before yet he walked towards a section in the bookshelves of the back with firm and secure steps.

He came back to the register with three children’s books to check out. That surprised you even more. He certainly didn’t look like the type of person that you would expect to get children’s books. He had a rough appearance with his tall frame, dark hair and (fake) leather jacket.

But he was nothing but polite as he greeted you and handed you his bookshop card.

The shop also acted as a library with several books, Rose and Jimmy having implemented the idea after there was an attack at the public library that left the place in reforms for months.

It also allowed the people who couldn’t buy books that regularly to still be able to have new books since you only had to pay for the card when you first got it and pay the small fee for the membership every two months. Or every month if you wanted more perks like extended loans or not having a limit on the amount of books allowed to be checked out.

Most of that money was also directly donated to different causes in Gotham like orphanages and homeless shelters. The community loved Rose and Jimmy for all of that, it was like they were their guardian angels, some customers had told you that they were godsent. 

As you proceeded to scan the books that the mysterious young man had brought you, you realized that his card was fairly new and came to the conclusion that Rose must have given it to him the week before, when you had your free day. 

“Do you have The Rainbow Fish? I tried to look for it but I couldn’t find it.” He spoke up and you looked up at him, surprised once more, since most people either loved or hated that book.

“Uhm. If it’s not on the shelf, it must have been checked out. Let me see.” You looked it up on the computer. “Yeah, someone took it a few days ago. We should have it by next week, I can keep it in reserve for you if you’d like.” The information seemed to please him since his face lighted up and he let out a sigh of relief.

“That would be great, thank you.”

“No problem. Have a nice day.” You gave him back the books and his card and as you looked at him you realized that he had a very nice smile. You wondered if he would come back often to the bookshop. 

“You too.” He said as he opened the door.

And in fact, he did come back to the bookshop rather often, at least once a week and always looking for children’s books. You were very curious about it since it wasn’t very common to see a man like him taking so many children’s books with him.

You couldn’t help but speculate, maybe he was close with kids in his family or maybe he did some kind of volunteering. Either way, you weren’t going to ask, it was out of place and you didn’t know him. 

Then, he started checking out other books, this time fiction and most of all classic literature. He sometimes even bought the ones that really brought out his attention. He would always strike up friendly conversation with you as he came to the counter with new books to buy or check out, asking you about some book or asking you for recommendations.

On your most brave days, not really knowing what you were doing, you would even make a comment about the books that he was taking with him and he answered you with enthusiasm, commenting on them with you.

Soon, you were on a first name basis with him and something similar to a friendship blossomed between you two. You started giving snippets of each other's lives, you telling him about a show that you were watching that you really liked or him telling you about one of his siblings’s latest shenanigans.

Jason coming into the shop became something that you looked forward to and Rose and Jimmy, who some days spend the day in the shop helping you out, also saw how close you two were becoming.

Jason even befriended them too and the owners soon treated him like a grandson just like they had done with you so long ago. Jimmy sometimes shoved in his hand his famous homemade cookies and Rose tried to give him a discount for the books that he bought but Jason, like always, refused to accept it. 

“What? You’re supposed to leave them inside, it’s on the delivery contract.” You add frustrated.

“Whatever you say. Not my problem.” The new delivery man doesn’t even look at you as he recklessly puts the last of the boxes of new book orders on the sidewalk.

Looking at the now damaged box you grimace. You really hoped that the books inside were okay. They were like your babies.

The man takes his cigarette out of his mouth and puts it out on top of one of the boxes knowingly, looking you dead in the eyes as if challenging you to say something else.

You know that starting a confrontation would get you nowhere, it would be better to file a complaint later that you know would have consequences for him since the delivery service and the bookshop had always had a trusting relationship.

So, knowing to pick your battles, you put on a smile and thank him. The man seems surprised at that, surely used to having excuses to play the bully. He just huffs, gets on the truck and leaves. You nod to yourself proudly, you won. But your small, triumphant moment ends as soon as you see the large number of boxes that you now have to carry inside on your own. 

Oh, how you missed Charlie.

Charlie was the delivery man before he retired. It had been his job for more than fifty years and even now he was as strong as ever and he had always helped you with the boxes and made you laugh with his adventures from his younger years. 

You always gave him a cup of coffee from the machine in the small back room that worked as a break room as he tried to set you up with his grandchildren. Telling you how amazing they were and how one of them was about to become a doctor.

“I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m sure they’re great.” You would always tell him. Because they did sound nice but none of them lived in Gotham. Charlie then would fake a disappointed sigh but the crinkles of a smile around his eyes would always appear.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind, sweetie.” A pause. “Though you should forget about trying here, there isn’t anyone worthy in this godforsaken city.” He would joke.

“Except you, Charlie.” You’d say brightly while winking at him jokingly. And then he would laugh the way only one can when they are satisfied with their life and as happy as they can be, something very rare. 

“Don’t let Mary hear you, I know she doesn’t look like it but she can throw a punch.” His eyes would shine with love as he mentioned his wife.

“I don’t doubt it.” You’d answer.

You are brought out of your memories when a voice calls your name.

“Y/N, hi.” You turn to see Jason and you can't help the immediate smile that makes its way across your lips.

“Hi. How are you?”

“I’m good. I was just about to go in when I saw you out here. What’s all of this?” He looks around at all the boxes that the pedestrians were avoiding.

“Delivery day.” You say as you take one of the boxes in your arms. His eyes widen. With that funny expression on his face he looked cute, which made him even more handsome than usual. It wasn’t even fair.

Focus, Y/N.

“And you always do this alone?” 

“No, the new delivery guy is just an idiot. Charlie always helped me.”

“Charlie?” He raises an eyebrow as he too grabs a box from the floor.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“I’m helping you.” He replies without hesitation, you shake your head.

“I can’t let you do that, you’re a customer.”

“It’s no problem. Plus, this way you will finish this earlier and you can recommend me another book after the heartbreak that you gave me with the last one.”

“Sorry.” You say, trying to contain a giggle. He narrows his eyes at you.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” You confess, this time laughing freely.

You didn’t know it but Jason thought that you looked beautiful. Even more so than some days, if that was even possible, with the wind carrying your laugh to him and rustling your hair. God, he was in deep.

“So, are you going to let me help you or not?”

“Fine.” You finally comply.

And as you two enter the boxes he repeats his question from earlier. “Well, who’s Charlie?”

“Oh, just the best delivery old man you will ever meet.” You answer, your affection for the man clearly present in your voice.

“Do you collect them?”

“What?” You ask confused.

“Grandparents, old people. You have your own grandparents, Rose, Jimmy and now I learn about this Charlie. Do you collect them?” You smile at his comment. Truth was, he had a point.

“Well, I guess you could say that. In fact, now that I think about it, most of my friends are old people. I mean, it kind of makes sense, my perfect Friday night is staying at home reading with a hot chocolate.” For a moment silence settles between you and you worry that you might have overshared and that you were creeping him out. 

“You’re an old soul.” He finally says. And the way that he does so makes you stop, like he admires you for it, as if he likes the peace that comes with such a statement.

“Maybe.” You reply, resuming your step.

“I wish I could do that.” You arch an eyebrow. “Stay at home at night during the weekends and just relax.” He adds.

“Why’s that?”

“I work nights.” 

“Oh. It must be hard.”

“Yeah, sometimes it is.” After saying that his gaze gets lost, as if for a moment he wasn’t there with you anymore, but deep into his thoughts and memories.

“Do you have any? Grandparents, I mean.” You say to distract him and bring him back.

“Just one, Alfred. Although he is in more the middle of being a father and a grandfather. He raised me along with Bruce.” As soon as he says that, you know that he is just as surprised at himself as much as you are at the confession since it is by far the most personal thing that he had ever shared with you.

It is also clear that there was a lot of history behind that statement. It seems a serious matter and the other times that you two talked, he mostly kept it lighthearted with you.

The mysterious man that had first entered into the bookshop had let you see a crack in him. He trusts you. Or at least, he was beginning to do so in a more personal way. You only feel lucky that you are being able to get closer to him.

You sense how his instinct to flight was about to strike, clearly not used to this kind of situation and being awkward about how to manage it. So, you decide to change the topic, in what you think is a smooth way, to relax the ambience and to selfishly see if you could keep him at your side just a little bit longer.

“Well, I can share Rose and Jimmy with you then. As long as you don’t steal my spot as their favorite bookshop grandkid.” Just as you finish talking you see him visibly relax, his tense shoulders acquiring a more loosen stance.

Then, almost unnoticeably, a small smile forms on his lips and another one makes its way to your own.

“Deal.” He ends up saying.

After you both bring in all the boxes, and you check them into the inventory, you open them to put the books in the correspondent shelves. You turn to thank Jason for the help but he's already passing you some of the books for you to place them.

“Thank you, but you don’t have to do this. You already did too much.”

“Nope. I’m not leaving.” He just hands you the books in his grasp and grabs some more. You stand there stunned. Where did this gorgeous kind man come from?

“Okay. At least let me give you a coffee.” You go to the break room and not even a moment later, after quickly asking him how he liked it, not even giving him the option to refuse it, you return with a cup in your hands. He whispers a thank you and when you hand it to him, his fingers so lightly graze yours, making your breath hitch in your throat. 

“You don’t want one?” He asks, seeing that you had only brought a single cup.

“Oh, I don’t like coffee much.” He nods and then you get to work, looking at the books, classifying them and ordering them.

Jason keeps passing them to you and sipping the coffee in the comfortable silence. He’s glad that you’re so concentrated because that way you won’t notice how entranced he is with you. He watches you and just by your movements he knows that you’re in your element. It was clear that you enjoyed what you did.

At some point, you start humming a repertoire of the songs from Beauty and the Beast, probably without realizing it. Jason doesn’t mention it, knowing that most likely you would become ashamed and stop.

So, Jason lets the moment pass by, your company and the peaceful atmosphere of the bookshop making a warm feeling wash over him. Making him feel safe and relaxed. Something that didn’t usually happen to him, but that being in the bookshop and in your presence, always made him feel that way.

When he eventually left, you didn’t even realize that he had done so without taking any book with him.

“Hey.”

The sudden voice makes you stumble on the ladder that you were on to return a book to its place in one of the top shelves. You know that there is nothing that you can do to prevent your fall but still in a hopeful attempt, you drop the book that was in your hand to the floor, and extend your arms to try and gain some balance. 

All of this happens in milliseconds and even then, you have time to exclaim “Jesus!” from the surprise, preparing yourself in any way you can for your imminent fate. 

However, just as fast as it all happened, a hand settles on your waist to stabilize you and another one grips the ladder to stop its wobbling. And just like that, you’re back on your feet again. You look down and there he is.

Your knight in shining leather jacket.

“Not exactly but close enough.” Jason can’t help replying to your previous exclamation. It had never crossed his mind before but now that he thinks about it, he realizes that he has something quite peculiar in common with the biblical figure. With all the ‘been dead done that’ stuff. The weird coincidence and his own comment making him chuckle to himself. 

You also huff out a small laugh, not at his comment, that you couldn't possibly fully understand, not yet, but at your own clumsiness. Laughing being almost always your immediate reaction whenever you fell or, like in this case, almost did. 

“Oh my god, thank you.” You say relieved with a thankful smile on your face.

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry actually, you almost died because of me.” 

“No, don’t worry, you just surprised me. Plus, me and high places have never been a great combination.” He chuckles at your comment and you smile in return.

Much to your disappointment, he lets go of your waist, but it doesn’t last long as he holds out his hand for you to help you come down from the ladder. You know that he’s just being polite and that you should finish what you were doing on the ladder but after the brief scare you’d like to put your feet on firm ground again for even just a small bit.

That, and the fact that you would take any chance that you could get to be close to Jason and hold his hand. Honestly, who wouldn’t?

So, you accept his hand and, just to be even more safe and avoid any possible risk of course, not for any other reason, you support yourself on his shoulder on the way down. He leads you to the ground with a small smile on his face and then sadly, lets go of your hand.

You miss the contact instantly.

“There we go.” He says, so low, that it’s almost like a whisper.

You take a moment to address him and look him over, the feel of his strong shoulder under your hand still tickling your fingers at your side. And for a split second, just a tiny little one, you wish that you had actually fallen from the ladder so that he could have caught you in his arms.

Damn it.

Now that the idea had occurred to you, you would think about it for days. 

Jason leans down to retrieve the book that you had dropped earlier and with an ease and balance that you could only dream of, he returns it to the open spot that you had been reaching for on the top shelf. It makes you both jealous and in awe of the way in which he can almost effortlessly do so. Even though even he had to step onto the first step of the ladder to reach it.

Stupid tall attractive people.

Jason enters the bookshop excited to see you. He hadn’t been able to come by for a few days and he did not like it one bit. Coming to see you were the best parts of his week, because if he was being honest, the books themselves had stopped being a motivator a long time ago.

Probably the second or third time that he had visited the bookshop.

He was just thankful that you didn’t seem to notice that you were the main reason that he came by. You would probably think that he was being creepy. However, much to his dismay, Rose and Jimmy were very much aware of how much he liked you.

They always had that knowing smile whenever they saw you two talking and they definitely knew about the insane amount of books that he checked out weekly as an excuse to see you. Books that were impossible for him to read from one visit to another in such a short amount of time and that just spent several days stacked in his house.

Thankfully, for the moment, they had never said something to you or directly commented it to him either, as they wisely knew that you two needed to take things at your own pace.

He closes the entrance door behind him and his brows furrow in confusion not seeing you behind the counter, where he would usually find you reading or taking care of a customer. Maybe you’re in the bathroom, doing something in the break room or organizing the shelves.

But then, Rose emerges from the break room behind the counter greeting him.

Oh.

A slight feeling of disappointment settles in him. It’s not that he didn't like Rose, he really enjoyed chatting with her, he just really wanted to see you. And if Rose was here maybe you weren’t working today. But it couldn’t be, you always worked Thursdays.

Not that he had paid any attention to your schedule or anything.

Then it suddenly occurs to him that maybe you have taken the day off. He’s as happy for you as much as he’s disappointed. Everyone knew that you worked too much for your own good.

Still, the selfish part of him wanted to spend just a tiny little bit of time with you.

“Good afternoon, Rose. How are you?” Jason finally greets back.

“I’m good, sweetie, just checking day. And you?”

“Glad to hear it. I’m fine too. Just came in looking for…” Damn it, he didn’t even prepare an excuse of a book. A few seconds trail on and Jason still doesn’t say anything.

“For a…” He had been caught like a deer in headlights. He avoids Rose’s intense gaze that was still set on him waiting for him to say something. This is so embarrassing. And he was supposed to be one of the daring vigilantes of Gotham?

Pathetic. That’s what he was.

He could face villains but he couldn’t come up for an excuse to see you. Jason clears his throat.

“For a…” Jason’s starting to worry that he has entered some sort of self loop and is about to facepalm himself for his own stupidity when Rose’s lips break into a wide grin and she chuckles. She was messing with him. Like always, she definitely knew what exactly he was in there for. Jason smiles and lets out a sigh of relief.

“She’s on her break.” Rose says, nodding his head in your direction, towards the shelves. 

“Thank you.” Jason turns to go find you when Rose speaks up once again.

“Oh and, by the way, since you’re on it, can you get her for me please? I want to tell her something and I’m about to meet Jimmy for lunch.”

“Of course.” He answers while Rose gives him a thankful smile.

Jason starts to pace through the bookshelves, looking for you, but you’re nowhere to be found.

Until he passes by between a couple of them and sees something on the floor. He takes a couple of steps back and there you are, sitting on the floor with books about to be shelved, he supposes, and a book in your own hands that must have had you so immersed and distracted that you hadn’t heard him come in, nor his conversation with Rose.

A fond smile makes an appearance on his lips. He loved seeing you like this, in the place that you loved most, doing what you loved most, lost in a book. He realizes that he would never get tired of that sight. Still, it’s an intimate and private moment for you and he doesn’t want to linger too much on it and intrude. Plus, Rose was looking for you.

“Hi.” He says softly as to not startle you, after the scare from the last time. Which by the way, had been replaying in his head over and over again, the electrifying feeling of your hand in his forever engraved in his mind.

“Y/N.” He tries.

Nothing. That book really had you in a trance. He huffs a small laugh and takes a couple of steps closer to you, hands in his pockets. 

“Earth to Y/N.” You let out a small hum to acknowledge him but your gaze is still fixed on the ink. He’s about to call you again when you finally get out of your trance and steal a quick look to see who had talked to you.

Your eyes widen like plates, probably realizing that you had spent too long reading on the floor. You quickly get up and Jason notices how even in your distressed state, you close the book with care and slightly organize the mess around you, your hands treating each book carefully.

He wonders if you would treat him with the same carefulness and affection. For a split second, he even wishes it was him that your hands were treating and not books. Jealousy over books. Huh, that was new.

He also couldn’t help but wonder if you were that way with everything. If even when you weren’t at your best, or going through something, treating things, people, the world around you with care and kindness came as second nature to you, sometimes without even realizing it. He had a feeling that the answer was yes.

And once again, he realizes how much the dark part of his life clashed so much with yours. But before he can get too much into his own head, once more, just like several times before, you bring him back. 

“Oh my god, Jason, I’m so sorry.” You start, taking the few steps that separated you from him. “I don’t know how it happened, I swear. God, were you waiting a lot?” He doesn’t like the worry settled on your features one bit, like always, making him feel uneasy. Like the other previous few times that he has seen you like this, he makes it his mission and his top priority to change it.

“No, not at all. Don’t worry.” You nod while your tense posture finally seems to relax a bit. “You okay?” He adds.

“Yeah, yeah. I just… Got a little bit distracted.” You say as you retrieve the books from the floor and your head motions towards them. Jason smiles at you, knowing the feeling of being so engrossed in a book that everything else faded away.

“Rose was looking for you by the way. She was about to head out to meet Jimmy.”

“Oh, right.”

When you both go back towards the counter and you take your usual spot behind it, Rose is already putting her coat on and about to leave.

“I’m so sorry Rose, I got myself carried away and…” You start but Rose stops you with a shake of her head.

“It’s okay, honey. Just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving now.” You let out a sigh of relief. You really have the best bosses in the world.

“Okay, have a nice lunch.”

“Thank you, darling. Goodbye kids.”

“Goodbye.” Both you and Jason say. And just before Rose closes the door behind her, she winks at you and you feel your cheeks warm at the unspoken insinuation. Enjoy your time alone. You steal a quick look at Jason, hoping that he hasn’t seen Rose’s wink and sigh in relief when you see that he’s already turned towards you, facing away from the door.

Though, now that you think about it, you could swear that it was Jimmy the one that was supposed to meet Rose at the bookshop today, not the other way around. That woman was too smart for her own good.

“Well, what can I do for you today?” You ask Jason once you turn towards him.

“I…” Quick, Jason, think. “Could you extend my loan for the book from last week?” Nice save.

“Sure.” As you click on the computer, Jason takes a look at the stack of books that you had brought back with you from the shelves and that you have left on the counter.

“What got you so entranced back there?”

“Oh.” You say and you turn to the stack of books. Your eyes shining with excitement now. “We just got these new Jane Austen hardcovers and they’re just so gorgeous, look.”

You take the one on top of the stack, the one that you had been reading, and hand it to him. Pride and Prejudice. He takes it from your hands, your fingertips slightly grazing one another’s. Jason looks at the cover that feels soft yet sturdy in his hands. It was simple with just the title of the book and Austen’s name but the intricate and beautiful designs that decorated it made it, as you had said, a gorgeous edition.

“Wow. These are great.” He says with childlike wonder lacing his tone. He opens the book and his eyes skim over the pages and passages that he has read so many times before.

“I know, right? I was just admiring them one last time before putting them on the shelves and I just opened one to read a couple of paragraphs but next thing I know, I was ten pages in. I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen.” You confess. Jason laughs softly.

“Don’t worry, that’s just the Jane Austen effect. I get it, it happens to me too.” You can’t help but stare at him for a few seconds, blinking slowly, processing the newfound information. Thankfully, he’s still engrossed in the book.

This man likes Jane Austen? Is he trying to kill you or something? As if you couldn’t like him even more.

“You like Austen?” You ask, still a bit in disbelief, though it doesn’t really surprise you, since from the very beginning you had noticed how he was a very cultured person and how he had a great taste in books.

How sexy is that? To you, very. Very sexy.

“I love her. Basic, I know, but this one’s my favorite.” He answers as he puts the book back on top of the stack. As if anything in him could be basic, as if you don’t find him to be one of the most fascinating persons that you have ever met in your entire life.

“It’s not basic, it’s great. I love it too but I think that I prefer Northanger Abbey.” You pause. “Or Persuasion.” You pause again. “Or Emma.” You pause to think once more and Jason looks at you amused, loving how passionate you are when talking about it. “Or… Okay well, I love all of them! I can’t choose just one.” Jason smirks.

“Perfectly valid and understandable answer.” He says. You both look at each other for a second too long and then his phone starts ringing, breaking the moment. You give a slight jump and busy yourself going back to finish renewing his loan on the computer.

But to your surprise, he just takes it out of his pocket, looks quickly at the screen and directly hangs up. You raise an eyebrow but continue with your task, a small smile making its way across your lips, flattered that he prefers to keep talking to you rather than picking up his phone.

“Well, done. You have another week to…” You’re interrupted when his phone rings again. Jason huffs annoyed and silences it again.

“Sorry.” He says. You shake your head.

“It’s okay.” The phone rings a third time. It must be really important. “Though I think you should take it.” Jason looks at his phone in his hands, then at you, back at his phone, and then at you again, still doubtful, but you nod encouragingly. He seems torn and undecided, but he finally nods to himself and gives you an apologetic look before answering.

“What?” He says annoyingly, taking a couple of steps away from the counter as you pretend to check things on the computer and try (and fail) not to eavesdrop.

He’s going to kill Steph. He really is. She never calls him and now there is something so important that she has to call him three times and interrupt his talk with you? It better be good. 

“Heyyy. Jaybiiird. My bestieeee, the best vigilante in Gotham that there is.” Jason can already start to feel a headache forming, he brings a palm to his face and then runs it through his hair. You watch the gesture with envy. How many times had you daydreamed about doing the very same gesture? Probably too many.

“I can’t talk right now.” He quickly glances at you, still at the computer. This is stupid.

“Pleaseeee, I need your help.” At her pleading tone Jason sighs tiredly and pinches his nose, even though he knows that he shouldn’t be listening. With the way that she’s talking it’s probably a stupid favor or something, he would much rather be talking with you.

“Steph, what do you want?”

Steph? At that your head perks up slightly. His girlfriend, maybe? Your shoulders deflate thinking of the possibility. He had never mentioned having one but you also had never asked. Why would you even ask? You’re just friends, or something like that, it would seem like it was coming out of nowhere. As your thoughts keep spiraling and you stare blankly at the screen in front of you, Jason carries on with his conversation.

“You’re going to laugh…” Steph starts.

Jason rolls his eyes, catches your eyes and mouths my sister. You just nod and your spiraling thoughts stop abruptly. Thank god. Although the possibility of him having a girlfriend is still there, now that you don’t have to face it directly, you decide not to linger too much on it. Keeping the thought away and trying to ignore it, just like you had been doing since you met him. That’s a future problem for future you.

Jason changes his phone from one ear to the other as he listens to Steph stumble through her words. If she’s going to keep beating around the bush, he might as well hang up.

“Okay, bye.” He’s about to end the call when Steph speaks up again.

“I lost Damian.” Jason’s eyes widen as he turns to his other side.

“You what?” He whisper-shouts into the phone. 

“Okay so, Damian is grounded, okay? Something about driving the batmobile without permission and then…”

“Steph.” Jason warns through gritted teeth, clearly meaning go to the point.

“Okay, okay! So, I’m on babysitting duty alright? And Damian had been talking non stop about this new limited art exposition in the museum that he wanted to go to and that it wasn’t fair that he was grounded and blah blah blah.”

“Okay, and?”

“And… Well, there was this new season of this show coming out today and I just got distracted for a bit and then he kinda… Disappeared?” God. Jason closes his eyes in frustration. His family really knew how to be the most infuriating at the worst of times. He stays silent for a moment mentally cursing them before opening his eyes again.

“Told you you were going to laugh…” Steph repeats at his silence and Jason sighs, making you giggle quietly at the sibling interaction. Jason smiles at the sound.

“So what? Just go to the museum after him.” He finally answers.

“That’s the thing, I am at the museum and I just can’t find him. Damn that kid and his ninja training.” Steph hisses through the line. “Can you come and help me find him please?” He could hear her pouting.

“Why me?”

“You’re the only one that picked up.” And now he was sure that she was smiling innocently but full of mischief. Jason huffs. As soon as he saw Steph’s name on his screen he knew that he shouldn’t have picked up.

“No.” He says.

“Come on, pleaseeee. I’ll owe you one. If I don’t find Damian I will be the one that’s grounded next.” Honestly, who had put her on babysitting duty? Who had even grounded Damian to begin with? It was impossible to try and control that kid.

Damn it, Bruce.

“Bruce can’t ground you.”

“Oh yes, he can. I’m sure he’ll find a way. He’ll make me go supervise Condiment King or something! Please, Jason, please." Jason sighs. “Please, please, please, please. I’ll do all the research that you need for a week!” Mmhm. That’s interesting. That would certainly leave him with more time to see you.

“A month.” He counteroffers and sees you smiling at his bickering, making his insides feel giddy. Steph groans.

“A month? You know that’s too much.”

“Do you want my help or not?” Silence.

“Arrrg, okay, okay! Well, we’ll talk about it, now, can you please come here?” 

“With pleasure.” He says amused. Even though his family can be infuriating at times, he had to admit that they had their good moments and he enjoyed annoying them just as much as they did him.

“You’re so arrogant, oh my god. I pity whoever decides to put up with you.” Steph says and Jason can’t help but steal a glance in your direction.

“Just remember that you owe me a big one.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just come here. I’ll wait for you at the entrance.”

“Okay.” Before he hangs up, he hears Steph speak up again.

“Hey Jaybird.” Jason hums. “Thanks.” He rolls his eyes playfully.

“Bye.”

“And say hi to Y/N for me-!” He hangs up before you can hear Steph’s loud teasing voice. He knew that talking about you in front of his family wasn’t the best of ideas but he just couldn’t help it. You occupied his thoughts a lot more than what he was willing to admit. 

“Sorry.” He says as he approaches the counter once again and puts his phone in his pocket.

“It’s okay. Sibling drama then?” You ask playfully as you raise an eyebrow.

“You have no idea. It was Steph, she used to date one of my brothers. Tim.” You look at him confused.

“I thought you said she was your sister?”

“Yeah, I mean- it’s… It’s complicated. That was how we met her but she’s like a sister to me now.”

“I see.”

“Sorry, we’re quite a mess.” He chuckles awkwardly, running his hand through his hair and the white streak once again. The movement, like always, has you hypnotized. It should be illegal. Jason thinks that he should just stop talking, now he has weirded you out with his stupid and crazy family.

“Aren’t we all?” You say softly as you tilt your head in the cutest of ways. Honestly, the more that he told you about his family, the more you realized how peculiar they were. But they seemed really close to each another, which was what really mattered.

“Yeah… I guess so.” He trails on as he gets lost in your eyes again. You nod and he shakes out of his daze. “Well, I should get going. Duty calls.” He adds as he nods towards the door and taps his fingers against his side of the counter nervously.

“Okay. Hope everything goes well with whatever it is.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you next time.” Something about the security of knowing that he will always come back, and that there will always be a next time with him, raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Yeah. Next time.” You both look at each other as he walks towards the door.

Something lingers in the air, as if both of you want to say something else but do not dare to do so. Do not dare to cross the invisible line in your strange friendship usually defined by the safety of the counter that almost always stayed between you two in your interactions.

Jason grabs the door handle and holds it open for a moment as you speak one last time.

“See you soon then?” It’s a stupid sentence, already remarking what you both have already said, but it’s as good of an excuse as any to make him stay just a few seconds longer.

“See you soon.” Jason nods smiling at you and then, the door closes behind him.

You’re reading at the counter when the bell on top of the door jingles. You look up, hoping to find green eyes but are met with a stressful boy looking around the shop. As if in his distressed state, he can’t find you behind the counter.

“Hi.” You say as you bookmark your page. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh. Hi. Yeah.” He says as he quickly approaches you. He shakes his head to move the hair out of his blue eyes and takes a piece of paper out of his pocket. His hunched posture and shaky mannerisms tells you that he hasn’t caught a break in a while. This poor boy needs a rest.

“I’ve been looking for this book everywhere and I can’t find it anywhere. It’s my boyfriend’s birthday tomorrow, he loves mysteries and conspiracies and I need to find it. My brother told me that this is the best bookshop in all of Gotham and that you can find anything here.” He rambles as he gives you the piece of paper. You take the paper and look at the boy as he slightly bounces on his feet looking around the shop.

You raise an eyebrow. A distracted boy that seems to always be running and a brother that recommends the bookshop? Sounds quite familiar.

“Tim?” You can’t help but guess, though you’re still a bit unsure. Jason had mentioned him a few times and how his younger brother always seemed to be doing a hundred things at once. At that his bouncing stops abruptly and finally looks at you for more than a few fleeting seconds, suspicious of how you know his name.

“Sorry, hi. I’m Y/N. Jason comes here often and has mentioned you a few times.” You say nervously. The information seems to take a little bit longer than usual to register due to his distressed state but then when he finally recognizes you, his alert posture relaxes.

“Oh, Y/N! Hi, yes. I’m Tim. Nice to meet you.” He says as he holds out his hand and you shake it. “Jason talks about you too.” He adds. You feel your cheeks go warm.

“Well, nice to meet you too. Are you okay? You seem a bit stressed.”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just that I’ve been putting together this party for my boyfriend and the gift is being so hard to find it’s giving me headaches. Please tell me that you can help me.” 

“Of course.” You say. “But first, take a deep breath.” He looks at you as if he doesn’t know what you mean. “You need to rest and relax a bit if you want to make it to your boyfriend’s birthday tomorrow without dropping from exhaustion.” You nod encouraging him and then take a deep breath yourself so that he can imitate you. Thankfully, he does so after shaking his shoulders to release tension and then stays with his eyes closed, taking a moment.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He answers, opening his eyes.

You nod. “No problem. Let’s find that book.” You look at the piece of paper and type in the title and author of the book on the system. It’s a limited edition of a book about the old history of Gotham and thankfully, you have one copy in the storage room. “Got it. I’ll be right back.” Tim sighs in relief as you leave the counter.

When you come back, you bring the book and a cup of coffee from the break room with you. 

“This is so that you can get home to rest until tomorrow without dying on the way.” You say as you slide the coffee towards him.

“Oh thanks, but it’s not necessary.” You stare at him, having clearly seen how the idea of coffee almost had him glowing.

“Okay, okay.” He chuckles as he goes to take the coffee but you keep the cup in place.

“Promise that when you get home, you will rest. Do not take anymore coffee so that you can keep organizing things.” Tim looks at you, your firm tone and kind intentions making him clearly see why Jason is so smitten with you. He can also easily see himself trusting you and becoming friends with you.

“Promise.” He says honestly. You nod, letting go of the cup. "If you want more milk or sugar-" You can't even finish the sentence as he shakes his head, having already taken the cup into his hands and taken a sip.

“Mm, not necessary. This is great. Thank you.”

You smile. “You’re welcome. Do you want to wrap the book?”

“Yes, please.” He says.

“The Rainbow Fish? Again?” You say chuckling as Jason puts it on the counter for what probably was the third or fourth time. You really were starting to run out of options wondering why he always checked out so many kids’ books. But it just felt very intrusive to ask, he never said anything more about it either, probably not wanting to talk about it much.

“Yeah.” He says as you scan the book and pass his card on the system. 

“I loved this book when I was little.” A nostalgic look on your eyes as you gaze at the cover of the book, remembering the silver scales of the arrogant fish that he had to give away in order to be accepted instead of just being a nicer fish.

The message of the book in the end was good: not think of yourself as superior to others. But there was something about having to give up something that you were proud of and that was special about you in order to be accepted that always felt a little off putting to you when you grew up, especially when being kind could have just resolved everything.

“Though it sure as hell began my people pleasing problems.” You add giggling a bit without thinking. But when what you have said registers, you freeze, hands on the book and blank stare on them, not daring to look up at Jason. 

Where the fuck did that come from? 

You shut your eyes, praying to whatever was out there to let you die of embarrassment. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You had definitely freaked him out. That’s it. He would walk out of the bookshop and never come back. Why would you even say that? You weren’t thinking, that’s it. It had just slipped. You had become so used to being able to be yourself and talk about everything with Jason that it just felt so easy and comfortable to say whatever was on your mind. 

Finally, you decide to sentence your fate and just end with this terribly awkward conversation as soon as possible.

“Sorry.” You say. “I honestly don’t know where that came from.” Jason just chuckles though not in a mocking manner, but in an understanding way.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” He assures you. You look back down, missing Jason’s look of appreciation, loving your honesty and how flustered you were. He found it endearing. “Well, thanks.” He says as he goes to take the book on the counter.

Your whole body then tenses in alarm when you see the state of his hands, which until now, had been hidden in his pockets. Without thinking, once again, (seriously, what was wrong with you today?), you take his hands to take a closer look at them.

Jason lets out a small gasp as you do so and mentally smacks himself for letting you see his wounded knuckles, now him being the one that wanted to die of embarrassment. It was only so much that the gloves of his Red Hood gear could do to protect them.

“What happened?” You whisper, worry etched onto every single one of your features. 

Fuck.

How had he been so careless? He should have bandaged them, hidden them better or put make up on them. He just wasn’t used to having someone worry about him and his wounds like you were right now. At his silence, you try again:

“Jason.” Now he was the one avoiding your gaze. But you persist, finally making eye contact with him. “What happened? Are you okay?” He wills himself to get out of his stupor and even though deep down he doesn’t want to, out of the soft touch of your hands too, bringing his own back to his sides.

“It’s nothing. It’s just… I do boxing.” He says as he shrugs his shoulders. “It happens.” You raise an eyebrow, suspicious. It feels like something doesn’t fully add up.

You know that there are things that Jason isn’t telling you. He has made some strange comments before but you always let it go. You know that eventually, if he wants to, when he’s ready, he will tell you. God knows that you have your own things too.

But if there is something that you have learned about your growing friendship with Jason is that you both like to take things at your own pace. Trusting and becoming close with each other slowly but steadily.

Letting time do its work. Not forcing the flow of things. And you like it that way. Life is always everchanging so to have something so solid and safe like what you have with him, you want to treasure it and nurture it. Although all of that of course, doesn’t stop you from worrying about him and wanting to take care of him.

So, you just nod, accepting his explanation, but not without having a little bit of fun.

“I thought that in boxing you were supposed to wear gloves to avoid that very kind of injuries.” You say with a playful smile.

Shit.

Jason wants to facepalm himself. He really seemed to just have one brain cell whenever he was around you. At his lack of response you shake your head.

“Come, let me patch that up at least.”

“Oh, no, no. It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Jason.” You throw him a glance.

“Y/N.” He maintains your stare. Finally, a small smile escapes your lips and you put an end to the staring contest, rounding the counter and taking his hands once again and guiding him to the break room. Allowing yourselves this moment since there aren't any other customers in the store right now. Jason lets you, knowing that in the end, he will never be able to deny you anything.

Once in the break room, you sit him down at a chair by a table and leave for a moment before you return with a first aid kid. You sit down in front of him and look at him softly.

“Can I?” You motion towards his hands. Jason swallows and only finds the courage to nod slowly.

The knuckles are far from being the worst that they have ever been and Jason always tries to take care of them but he had just arrived home from patrol the night before so exhausted that he had only managed to clean them before passing out on his bed. Right now, they’re mostly just reddened with a couple of points in which the skin is broken.

Jason then finds out that he was right. When you take his left hand and start treating the wound, cleaning it again and applying some antiseptic on it, he sees that you treat him with the same care and thoughtfulness that you did with those books all those weeks ago.

Almost as if he was something delicate, something precious. If not more.

The beat of his heart quickens and he wonders if in the silence of the room, you can hear it.

This is the very first time that Jason has been back here, the setting of your interactions always being the open part of the bookshop and this change of scenario makes it seem like something has shifted between you two. Like you weren’t just employee and customer with a friendly relationship anymore but like you have a real friendship and a deeper connection.

The whole time, as you treat his other hand too and then slowly bandage both of them, Jason looks at you. He’s glad that you’re only fixed on his hands because that way he can take all the time that he wants to admire you.

The concentrated look in your eyes, the way that your eyebrows furrow in concentration, how you put a strand of hair that has fallen out behind your ear, and the occasional and very tortuous moment in which you bite your lip in concentration, being extra careful in not hurting him.

And that's when the weight of how much he feels for you falls on him. He was already aware of it before but now is when he can really feel the weight of it all. How what he feels for you is not just an infatuation or a crush, but something deeper that runs beneath his skin, crawling into him, taking root. Settling and making a home there.

“Done.” You whisper. And as you retract your hands from his, Jason wishes that he never had to part from your touch.

You put all the things that you used back into the first aid kit and try not to think about the impulse that you had, but that you thankfully had managed to repress, of kissing his knuckles when you finished bandaging them.

“Be careful, okay?” You say. Jason nods, admiring your work but when you don’t take your eyes off of him he answers:

“Yeah. Promise.” You nod satisfied. Then Jason remembers another promise that he had made. “Tim wanted me to thank you by the way. Bernard loved the book.” He says.

“Oh, that’s right! It was no problem, it was really great to meet him. How was his boyfriend’s party? Bernard’s I guess?” You say excited.

“Tim said it went great. And that thanks to you he didn’t fall asleep during it and was actually able to enjoy it.” You giggle in response when suddenly, Jason’s phone beeps and he takes a quick look. Firefly alert downtown. He jumps out of his seat.

“Sorry, I have to go. Thank you, really.” And faster than a bullet, he’s gone.

You sigh, shaking yourself out from the intimate moment and when you return to the counter, you see that in his hurry, Jason forgot to take The Rainbow Fish with him. You take the book and put it under the counter, keeping it for him for next time.

You’re running some errands when you see two large men crowding a little girl. She can’t be older than six and she’s clutching onto a teddy bear for dear life. 

Anger and fear for the little girl rage inside you, it is broad daylight and there are quite a few people on the street, yet everyone seems to carry out their business ignoring the men trying to talk the girl into going with them. You knew how Gotham was but it seemed like the city always found a way to surprise you.

“Come on, your mommy told us to come get you.” You hear one of the men say to the girl as you quickly approach them.

“I don’t have a mom.” The girl manages to say, distrustful. And even though hearing that makes you sad, you admire the girl, you can tell that she’s smart.

“Can I help you?” You hiss as you put yourself between the two men and the girl, putting an arm out to keep her behind you. You see the two men exchange a look, clearly discussing if it is worth it to cause a scene in the middle of the street.

“No. We were just leaving.” One ends up saying, giving a clap to the back of the other, directing them away from you and the girl. As they turn to leave, they try to give one last look to the little girl but you move to block their line of sight.

When they turn the corner at the end of the street, you finally let out a sigh of relief, thankful that the confrontation didn’t escalate to anything more.

You knew you didn’t actually stand a great chance against them physically, and seeing how people were ignoring the situation before, you’re not sure that anyone would have helped you.

Adrenaline is still pumping through your veins as you turn and kneel on the floor to be eye level with the girl, who takes a step back in fear but you hold your hands up, trying to show her how you’re not a threat.

Now that you can see her clearly, you see how scared she really is. She is shaking slightly, still clutching her worn out teddy bear with tears in her eyes. Her clothes aren’t in the best state either and her shoes are two steps more from falling apart. Just by looking at her you can tell that she has to have spent nights on the street. 

Your heart breaks. It really was unfair how many unfortunate people and kids lived in such dire situations in Gotham. Of course you knew that there were people trying to change things and do better like the vigilantes or normal people like you, that even if it was in the smallest of ways, always tried to help somehow. You did so by either giving away the clothes that you didn’t use anymore or doing donations whenever you could. But sometimes it still seemed like the bad outweighed the good. 

“Hi, honey.” You say in a soft voice to try and calm the little girl. “I’m Y/N. What’s your name?”

She stops backing up against the wall of the building, sniffs and rubs her eyes, before looking at you, deciding whether or not to trust you.

“Lily.” You hear her squeak out. Her grip on the teddy bear relaxes and she starts playing with its ear, still not looking directly at you.

“Hi Lily, it’s very nice to meet you.” You say as you extend a hand to her, wanting to give her some sense of normalcy. She slowly takes it and you give her a soft shake. “You okay?” She nods. “You know Lily, you were very brave standing up to those men.”

“They were bad” She says. You nod. “Jay always says not to trust strangers and much less big scary men.”

“He’s very right. Is he your brother?” Maybe you can help her get back to her family. If you managed to do so, it would be much better than bringing her to the police and then, sadly, most likely than not, forgotten in the foster care system.

“No. A friend. A very good friend.”

“Okay, good. That’s very important.” You look around, trying to see if somebody is looking for her. “Do you live nearby?”

“I think so.” She says shyly, you give her an encouraging look to see if she can give you any more information. “I was chasing a cat but I think that I took a wrong turn.”

“Okay. How about I go with you and try to find your way back?” You say as you stand back up. You’re happy to see that Lily doesn’t look scared anymore. Instead, she looks almost… Excited?

“Yes, please! I don’t want to miss it!” She says as she grabs your hand and starts walking in the direction that you suppose she came.

“Miss what?” You ask, but she’s already telling you everything about her teddy bear, who seems to be Batbear at night, fighting crime and kicking butt like the heroes in Gotham.

Turns out that Lily’s home was thankfully a lot closer than what you had expected. After asking her if she remembered a couple of streets and stores, she was able to find the right way back.

You finally reach an open space between two buildings that seems to work as a playground, with a rusty basket to play basketball on one side and several boxes and crates littering the corners. Several kids run around playing and chasing each other, most of them in the same condition as Lily.

A group of them surround a bench and you hear him before you see him.

“What do you mean Lily’s not here? Where is she?” He’s running a hand stressfully through his hair, looking around worriedly.

“Jason?” You ask transfixed.

Jason locks eyes with you and freezes, just as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

“Y/N.” He says breathlessly.

“Jay!” Lily’s excited voice filters through the air. You feel her dropping your hand and Jason’s eyes turn to her, relief washing over them. As she runs towards Jason, she extends her arms and he scoops her up and settles her on his waist effortlessly, Lily hugging his neck.

“Lily! Oh my god, where were you? We were all so worried. You’re always here when I arrive.” He says to her.

“I know, I'm sorry! Some bad men tried to take me. But don’t worry, Y/N helped me! She’s a badass!” Jason’s eyes widen at the new information and you see something in them that you had never seen before, a kind of anger that promises danger.

But as soon as that look comes, it disappears, and it makes you wonder if it was ever really there in the first place. He then looks at you, thankful but with a small tint of worry. You just give him a reassuring nod, telling him that everything is okay.

“Why don’t you go with the rest for a bit? I’ll be right there.” He says as he turns to Lily once more.

“Okay!” He settles her back down and she runs off to the other kids.

Jason approaches you quickly in a few strides, it feels like he wants to touch you, take your hands to make sure that you’re okay but he stops himself.

“You okay? What happened?”

“Yeah. I’m okay, don’t worry.” You tell him what happened and you can see how the anger returns to him in the way that he clenches his fists. “But we’re fine and they left so that’s all that matters.” You conclude.

“Where was it?” He asks firmly. You tell him the street where it all happened and Jason seems deep in thought for a moment, like searching for something in his mind. When he finally finds it, he nods resolutely as if he just made a mental note to do something later.

The determination in his eyes sends a chill running down your spine.

“Thank you for helping her.” He says then. “But be careful please, I don’t want you to be in danger.” The very thought makes him shiver, he doesn’t even want to entertain the possibility.

“I know. I am. I just couldn’t stand by.” You respond and he nods, knowing that that was how you were, always looking out for others.

“Anyway, thanks again.” He adds and you nod before looking around you once more.

It then dawns on you that this is the very first time that you are seeing Jason outside of the bookshop and it just feels so strange. When he first entered the shop, it seemed like he stood out like a sore thumb, with his tall frame, rough appearance and black leather jacket against the cozy backdrop of the shop. But now, after so much time, you couldn’t imagine him anywhere else. Now it was like he didn’t fit into any other atmosphere other than at the bookshop.

“Well, and what are you doing here?” You ask curiously.

“Oh, I…”

“So you’re Y/N?” Interrupts a young teen with a knowing smile, followed by a group of other kids, including Lily, clearly having told them her latest adventure. You nod.

“Are you his girlfriend?” Asks another boy now, looking up at you. You let out a small laugh at the way Jason’s eyes widen almost comically at the kid’s boldness.

“No.” You respond, and for a second, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to answer otherwise.

“We’re friends.” Jason says.

“Very good friends.” You can’t help but add and when you steal a nervous glance at Jason, you find him nodding, agreeing with you. Because saying just ‘friends’ feels too simple to describe your relationship with Jason. And what you said still doesn't cover it.

“Really?” The teen boy from earlier asks again with a raised eyebrow. “Because he-” Jason grabs him and puts a hand over his mouth before he can keep talking, smiling innocently at you. You look at the chaotic situation amused.

“Are you staying for the reading?” Lily asks.

“The reading?” You ask confused.

“Yeah! Jason always reads to us and acts out the stories!” Another girl says. And then it clicks.

Jason buys and checks out so many children’s books for them. For these kids. Street kids. Like him. Not only that but he also reads the stories for them. Regularly. You feel like melting into a puddle.

You turn to Jason, an amazed look on your face. As if this man could be any more wonderful. He blushes and looks away in embarrassment. A small smile makes its way across your lips.

“Really? I didn’t know that.” You say, turning to the kids once more.

“Yeah! He’s great at it.” Chirps the same girl.

“Are you staying then?” Lily insists.

You immediately turn to Jason. You would love to but there is a reason for why Jason hasn’t told you about this. It feels like this is something very important to him and that he holds very dear so you don’t want to intrude on that. But Jason is already looking at you, scared yet hopeful, as if he does want you to stay but is afraid that you may want to leave now.

“Well, I would love to. If I’m not a burden of course.”

“Never.” Jason says without missing a beat.

You don’t think that you have ever smiled more brightly.

You end up having one of the best afternoons that you have ever had in a while. Rival only to the other ones in which Jason visits you in the bookstore. You stay and listen as Jason reads them the books that had been sitting on the bench and that you recognize from the bookstore out loud, using different voices, doing exaggerating gestures, and acting out scenes.

You watch as the kids laugh and look at him mesmerized. If you had been able to look into a mirror, you would have found that you had the very same look of admiration as them, maybe even a tiny little bit lovestruck. You can tell that they love him, look up to him and consider him a role model. You can’t help but think that they made an excellent choice.

The crowd is mostly made of small kids, the older ones, in their teenage years, although a few of them listen, most make as if the activity doesn’t interest them, but you can see how they linger around the group while they play basketball or pass by. 

You see how what Jason is doing with these kids is a light for them. A moment of escapism, fun and happiness from their lives and problems in the worst neighborhoods of Gotham. Kids forced to grow up earlier to survive. Holding onto whatever source of innocence that they can.

Eventually, they all rope you into reading too and you end up sharing the spotlight with Jason. There are laughs, questions from the kids about yourself, funny comments and the snickering whispers from the older kids at the back about the two of you, having obviously heard about you before.

Jason prays that you can’t see them when they start teasing him and making kissy faces to which he just rolls his eyes. He also prays that you can’t see how he looks at you as you enjoy yourself and laugh at what the kids say. The utter adoration and longing that lay in his eyes.

It isn’t until almost a couple of hours later, when the sun has already disappeared beyond the horizon and the orange hue of the sky has turned purple, that the reading does come to an end.

The kids say their goodbyes, not before inviting you to reading time again and wondering when you will come back. A lot of them already give you a hug as they go, and you see them leave back towards their homes. Most of them go to the adjacent buildings but there are also a few, mostly the older kids, or at least accompanied by them, that go towards the street.

Lily thanks you for your help and even gives you a kiss on the cheek that makes you want to melt and give her a tight hug before she leaves towards the closest building, a girl a few years older than her guiding her by the hand.

And then, after all the chaos and laughs, with the night starting to settle in, it’s just you and Jason once again.

You sit back down on the bench next to him and you both stay there for a moment, enjoying the quiet and the silence of the chill Gotham air.

When you turn to Jason, his green gaze is already on you.

“Thank you for staying. The kids loved having you here.” He whispers as to not disturb the peace that has settled over you both. “I hope that it wasn’t too much.”

“What? No, it was lovely. Really, I had a great time. I’m sorry if I intruded.”

“No, not at all.”

“Now I know why you always check out so many kids’ books. Good to know that you’re not a psychopath with kids in cages or something.” You joke and Jason huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, maybe I should have explained that earlier. It would have been too strange to explain at the beginning but then we became friends and it dragged on and it felt too weird to explain now. I don’t know.” He just didn’t know what you would have thought of him.

“No, no.” You shake your head. “I didn’t mean it like that. This was clearly something very private to you. It’s perfectly understandable not wanting to share it with anybody.”

“You’re not anybody.”

You’re sure your heart stops beating for a moment.

The intensity of his gaze makes you look down at your hands. You can’t remember if anyone has ever looked at you like that.

It’s scary.

In a good way, but still very scary.

“Well, anyway, thank you for letting me be a part of it.” You end up saying and he nods.

Silence settles over you two once again. Neither of you wanting the day to end.

“You hungry? I know a great spot.” He speaks up.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

“I’m starving.”

You love the place as soon as you see it. It’s a small, yet very cozy and lovely diner. Through the outside windows you can see that the color pattern is mostly blue and white with bright pink neon letters announcing that it’s open.

Jason holds the door open for you and the warmness inside the place drastically contrasts with the cold from outside. The delightful smells from the kitchen make your stomach ache with hunger.

“Hi, sweetie! We’ll be right with you!” The old woman at the bar with a brightly tinted red streak in her hair says excitedly.

“Sit wherever you like!” A voice yells next from the kitchen. From the open window that looks into it from the dining area you can see another old woman with a bun.

“Thank you, ladies.” Jason greets.

Your mouth hangs open.

Jason leads you to a booth that stares out into the street. His usual spot, you suppose. As you sit in the comfortable booth and you two take off your coats, you close your mouth and look at Jason with a raised eyebrow. He looks back at you feigning innocence, though you know well that he knows why you’re so surprised.

“What?” He says with a teasing smirk that makes you want to kiss it away.

“You little liar.”

“Hey.” He responds amused. “What did I do now?”

“Looks like I’m not the only one with practically adoptive grandparents that just so happen to run a business.” You say with your arms crossed.

And when Jason laughs, you might as well be addicted to the sound with how much you love it everytime you hear it. 

“I knew you were going to say that.” He says and you scoff playfully. “In my defense, I will say that I wasn’t fully ‘officially’ adopted until after we had that conversation. I hadn’t come here enough times for that yet.”

“Mmhm, sure.” You say suspicious as you take the menu from the side of the table and take a quick look over it. “And you wanted to take Rose and Jimmy away from me.” You add, muttering under your breath.

“Excuse me?” Mock outrageousness in his tone.

“What you hear.” You’re trying too hard to hide your smile.

“You know that was never my intention.” He answers and you just hum, pretending to read the menu. “Okay, as an act of peace, you can have Millie and Ruby too.”

“Mhm.” You pretend to think it over.

“I’m sure they’ll love you in no time anyway.” The lightness with which he says that, as if anyone who met you couldn’t help but love you, makes you drop the menu onto the table and look back at him.

“Deal then.” You finally say and you both let out a small laugh.

After that, the woman with the red streak approaches your table and greets you both.

“Good evening kids, how are you today?”

“Good, Ruby, and you?” Jason answers.

“You know, same old, same old.” She says, waving her hand. Then she turns fully to you. “And who might this lovely lady be?” She asks with a knowing smile and an arched eyebrow, almost as if she already knows the answer and knows a secret that you’re not privy to.

“I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“The Y/N?” Ruby says while throwing Jason a look. He just looks away in embarrassment and the neon sign of the window really makes you wonder if the red tint on his cheeks are a reflection of it or not. “Oh, it’s so lovely to meet you dear! We've heard so much about you! We’ve been telling Jason to bring you non-stop. Oh gosh, I gotta tell Millie. Millie! Honey, come here!” She screams towards the kitchen.

Your lips curve into an amused smile, but you also feel heat rush to your face, not really knowing what to do with all the attention and the fact that Jason has been talking about you, what seems to be quite a lot, to other people. Not only his brother, but also the kids and these women.

Millie appears and when she learns who you are, she greets you just as enthusiastically as Ruby has.

“Let me tell you sweetheart, this boy here talks about you-” Millie starts but then she clears her throat as Jason throws her a warning glance. “I mean, about your bookshop all the time.”

“Well, you can drop by anytime.” You offer.

“We will.” Millie assures you. It seems as though both Millie and Ruby want to stay and ask you millions of questions but they see how Jason is begging them with his eyes to leave you two alone, and after taking your orders, they leave with a smile.

“They seem really great.” You say. Their loud nature sign of a joyous life. And even though they seem more energetic, vivacious and chaotic than the calm and quiet way in which Rose and Jimmy carry themselves, you know that they would get along very well. Especially with how all of them seemed to be thoroughly entertained by the interactions that you and Jason have.

“Yeah, they are.” Jason confirms. “But sorry about that, they can come off as a bit overwhelming sometimes.”

“It’s okay. It’s nice to be greeted so welcomely.”

As the night goes on, you find that it is just as easy to talk to Jason outside the bookshop as it is over the counter. It doesn’t surprise you but the underlying fear that your connection only works surrounded by bookshelves finally leaves you.

As you both eat the delicious food that Millie prepared, Jason tells you more about the kids per your request. How he tries to read to them at least once a week, how he brings them food whenever he can and how he has even taught a few of them to read. You also immediately offer up the bookstore to hold the readings but he shakes his head and smiles sadly.

“Thank you, really. That’s very kind of you. But it’s not very viable since the neighborhoods are not very close. Most of the kids have people relying on them and can only make it to the readings from time to time. The playground is also the more common ground, the older kids can’t go very far due to the responsibilities and it’s not safe for the smaller ones to go on their own.”

You nod, but your heart clenches at how these kids can’t enjoy a normal childhood.

“I understand.” You stop and think for a second if you should say what you want to say next, worried about overstepping. 

You decide to go for it anyway.

“I’d like to come back for the readings, if that’s okay?” Your voice comes out lower and more unsure than what you had first intended, your hands playing nervously on your lap.

Jason looks at you, as if he can hardly believe you’re real.

“Of course you can. I’m sure they’d love to have you back.” I’d love to have you back. But Jason doesn’t want to scare you or make the whole situation come off too strong. “But are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured, if their insistence-” 

“No, no! Really, I had a great time and I would love to be able to see the kids again. Help in any way I can.”

“Okay, then.” He says with a smile pulling at his lips.

The evening stretches on and you two stay at the dinner until closing time. There is a moment that will haunt you for days, as you told him a story, he leaned his arms on the table, giving you his undivided attention, and the way in which his bicep flexed under his sleeve… Nothing has ever been so distracting. Your eyes had been instantly drawn over to it. You really, really hoped that he didn’t notice. You would die of embarrassment otherwise.

You even finally, finally, give each others’ numbers to match schedules for the readings (and to just chat in general of course), since you won’t be able to make it to all of them due to the bookstore hours and so that Jason can let you know if he can’t attend one. You can’t believe you didn’t even have it before with how often you two already talked at the bookshop.

It feels like another shift in your relationship. A stepping stone.

Another brick on the long yet sturdy building road.

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

>Part II

[southern-fried-simpin]

We Belong Dead| Alastor x Dead Wife!Reader

A/n: Hey everyone I know it’s been a LONG time since I’ve written something and I’m sorry it’s not DC related but I finished Hazbin with my fiancée MONTHS AGO and I’ve been wanting to write Alastor soooo bad! With all of that being said, let it be known that I do NOT condone or agree with any of the questionable actions and opinions of Vivienne Medrano, but I DO enjoy this show and a lot of the characters.

Warning(s): Floofy but suggestive, Alastor “using” reader and reader just kind of going along with it, mentions of murder, sad at first, human Alastor and reader mentioned, temporary unrequited love, Demi romantic Alastor, Alastor because he’s…Alastor, mentions of marriage, canon divergence, suicide, death, loooooong introduction and plot h🫠

“Mama, we’re gonna get married!”

Alastor had decided that you were both ready for marriage in the middle of the school yard and decided to announce this as his mother came to pick him up.

His mother feigned shock as she started to playfully chide him.

“You can’t just marry some girl you met on the first day of school!”

Alastor kept his arms around you as you both giggled and showed his mother the ribbon he had tied around your finger.

“Oh my!” She exclaimed.

“Obviously you two are very serious about this! How about we have your fiancée over for dinner after school one day so I can get to know her better, hm?”

Despite Alastor never having that wedding ceremony with you on the playground, you both remained close all the way up until you graduated high school. After that, you went your separate ways.

Several years later, when Alastor bumped into you as you were leaving the corner store one day, you ended up talking to him for hours. After which, you had started getting together more often. Eating out, going to shows, drinking and having fun together.

Somewhere along the way, however, having fun together turned into going on dates together. Going on dates turned into staying up late talking for hours about anything and everything, and lovely gifts.

One such gift being your engagement ring.

Looking back on it now, you don’t know how or why you thought it was normal for a man to propose after 6 months.

On the outside, Alastor was the husband that every woman dreamed of. He helped you clean and cook, he never raised his voice, and he always bragged about you. On the inside however, something felt stiff. Tense. Off.

Alastor rarely ever initiated kisses, he barely touched you, and he disappeared in the middle of the night rather frequently.

After he was killed, it all made sense. You weren’t his wife so much as you were his alibi. Who would have thought the vicious killer that buried his victims on a hunting ground had a wife waiting at home? A wife who, despite what everyone believed, was oblivious to his crimes. It didn’t matter, though. In a matter of days, you lost your job, your friends, and your peace of mind. In the weeks that came to pass, you slowly lost your mind and your will to live as well.

You died in your sleep after taking a cocktail of pills with a glass of brandy. The police found you in bed wearing your most expensive nightgown, your hair neatly styled, and makeup done perfectly.

Just like before, time had gone on, and your time in hell had been quite interesting. Maybe even a bit enjoyable if you were being honest. The old saying rang true: Hell truly had no fury like a woman scorned. Your arrival in Hell was a testament to that.

Armed with your broken heart and raw, stinging rage, you made a home for yourself and began your own business. Anyone who got in your way was sliced open with the very weapons you sold. You were very aware of Alastor’s presence, but made no effort to contact him. He had no idea you were here, either.

That changed a few days ago.

Who should you see while on an outing in Cannibal Town but your darling husband. He looked different, but you recognized him almost immediately. He offered to walk with you and followed you even after you declined. Every day after that, he miraculously ran into you everywhere you went. He was relentless in trying to get your attention. He would try to talk to you and when you ignored him, he would carry on speaking like it was nothing. Today you finally cracked when he invited you to come to a hotel. The Hazbin Hotel, specifically.

“Why?”

“Well, I thought I might show you this little…business venture…I’ve been working on recently! After all, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen my lovely wi-“

“Don’t call me that.” You spat.

His smile never faltered, but his eyes held a look of momentary discomfort.

“Ah, and here we are!” Alastor pointed his staff towards the building in front of you. It looked like some place from when you were alive, except old and decrepit.

Ever the gentleman, Alastor held the door for you as you walked in before he followed suit. Not 5 minutes passed before a woman with long silver hair angrily stomped in your direction.

“Alastor! Where have y-,” she paused when she noticed you by his side, “who…who the fuck is this?” A blonde was following close behind her.

“I’m glad you asked!” Alastor’s smile broadened. He proceeded to introduce you as his beloved wife to everyone in the room, and then introduced them to you, completely ignoring the looks of shock and awe on their faces. Before anyone else in the room could speak, Alastor hastily took your hand.

“Now, if you excuse us, we have some things to discuss.” With that, you and Alastor promptly dissolved into a shadowy mist.

The lobby was silent then as everyone stared at where Alastor and you once stood.

“Ssso…that was weird for everyone elsse too…right?”

Meanwhile, upstairs, Alastor turned after carefully locking the door to his room.

“Now, I suppose I owe you an explana—“, he was cut off by a resounding smack when your hand connected with his cheek. Alastor’s head turned with a sharp snap. He stood completely still there for a moment, eyes wide and smile looking painfully forced. If it had been anyone else, they would’ve been dead by now, but you? Well…he always liked how feisty you were. Alastor cleared his throat before speaking again.

“Alright…”, he said while turning to face you. “I probably deserved that…”

“You deserve a lot worse than that actually, but go on.”

“I know, and I can’t…” Alastor suddenly felt unsure of what to say. Granted, The Radio Demon was not one for heartfelt apologies (or any apologies for that matter) but if anyone deserved one from him, it was you. Yet, there he stood: the feared Radio Demon, lost for words at your mere presence.

There was a long and uncomfortable silence.

“Do you have any idea what you did to me?” You finally said. “What I suffered because of you?!”

Alastor offered no response.

“What FUCKING-“ you paused as tears began to well in your eyes. Your face red and splotchy and your lips quivering as you started to sob.

“You lied to me-“

“I did.”

“You used me!”

“I did.”

“You told me you loved me!”

“I do.”

And that gave you pause. Had he loved you? Really loved you? No. It had to be a lie. He couldn’t possibly-

“I know I can’t make up for everything I did and everything that happened…” Alastor said while walking towards you. When he stopped, just a few inches from you, you had to look up at him. Alastor was taller than you in life, but now he towered over you. He gently took your hand in his. “But I’ll spend the rest of eternity trying…for you.”

You watched as he gently kissed your fingers. With tears in your eyes and an uneven breath, you laid your head on his chest.

You missed him. You tried not to miss him, but you did and there was no use in denying it anymore.

“One chance,” you finally said. “That’s all you get.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

You looked up at Alastor and locked eyes with him briefly. The feared Radio Demon wanted nothing more right now than a chance to have you back. His eyes flitted between your lips and your eyes before he dipped you low. To anyone else, it would be an over-the-top gesture, but to you? Oh, how his theatrics made you blush and swoon.

“So…what do you say, darling?” He leaned in closer, almost touching his forehead to yours.

“Do we have a deal?~”

You raised a brow at his words.

He chuckled then.

“Ah, I apologize for my poor choice of words. What I meant was: May I have the honor of courting you, my dear?”

Your eyes softened and you smiled up at him.

“Yes, darling.”

[felikatze]

THE ISLANDER EUPHRASIE THEORY: THE CRACK HEADCANON THAT RUINED ME FOREVER

HI. you might know me as the kingphie divorce guy. or as the guy who wrote the 6k ludonarrative essay. Today i am going to introduce to YOU @the-bitter-ocean's fantabulous ISLANDER EUPHRASIE THEORY!!!

DISCLAIMER

This post contains SPOILERS for ALL of In Stars and Time. INCLUDING THE ACT 6 SECRET!!

You have been warned.

ALSO!!!!

The original headcanon/theory is VERY MUCH Ocean's fantastic work! I am merely rehashing all the arguments for it that have been laid out across various chats into one cohesive thing people can look at. Also citations! Who doesn't love those.

WHAT IS IT?

Well, it's quite simple. It's the theory that Euphrasie, love of my life and Head Housemaiden of Dormont, is from the forgotten island, same as Siffrin and the King.

(Yes, this is why divorce AU exists.)

WHY DO YOU EVEN BELIEVE THIS?

Quite a lot of reasons, actually.

It's really funny

Let us begin with: the basics.

SUPERFLOUS AESTHETIC DETAIL

HAIR COLOR

This is Euphrasie. She's very pretty. I love her.

You might notice several things about her, like her fantabulous white hair.

Well. What other characters have white hair?

You have guessed correctly. The ONLY OTHER white haired characters with actual artwork are Siffrin and the King, both from The Island The World Forgot. Thus we can assume that it's a typical hair color for islanders. Makes it stand out very much that Euphie also has it.

(What about the beautiful one- sh sh sh he's blonde. He's blonde.) (Well, actually, considering that they are the only one who acknowledges that Vaugardians are also weird, what if he's from the island as well? Checkmate atheists.)

EYELASHES

(EDIT!!!!! FINALLY PUTTING THIS ON THE MAIN POST!!!

Turns out I was incorrect in this. Some characters (Mira, Isa) also have eyelashes on SOME portraits. The mentioned chars r still notable for Always Having Em, + the Loop lashes are like, literally intended as plot twist foreshadowing, but, hey.

That's what you get for writing essays at 1am.

IN RETURN!!! Someone pointed out to me [i forgot who sorry] that Euphrasie's capelet.... has stars on it!! It's speckled like the starry sky!! Now isn't that a neat coinkydink.)

(Original text left up because I respect my past self's artistic vision. And his lunacy.)

Correct. Eyelashes.

Going back to our portrait of Euphie, she is drawn with precisely three eyelashes. Why is this notable? Because Siffrin and Loop are.

So much so, that being drawn with three eyelashes, is specifically an element of foreshadowing to Loop's true identity.

(squints at character portraits) literally no characters besides Siffrin, Loop, and Euphrasie have eyelashes? Oh my god. What? Nobody has eyelashes? What the fuck? (okay, some moments later: Mirabelle has eyelashes in some battle artwork, but these three are the only ones specifically with eyelashes in dialogue portraits, which is still incredibly odd.)

SPEAKING HABITS

(EDIT!!! Another Point that is Kind Of Off, in that other characters [e.g. Odile] also do this occasionally. Again, keeping the text for my creative vision.

In return I get to inform you that the King makes the "not so bright, Bright One" pun TWICE in different loops, thus implying the King likes puns. Take this as you will. That's been my psychic damage, buhbyeeee~)

Hey, so, you know when you talk to people in Dormont, a lot of the NPCS will have a nametag that just says "[something] One" right? Daydreaming One, Castle-Loving One, Beautiful One?

And I've seen people wonder, are these titles? Nicknames?

And I bring you this: Siffrin addresses these people with these epithets in his head, because they have no fucking clue what anyone's name is.

So Siffrin just naturally lapses into this style of nicknaming strangers.

Which two other people also do.

Bright one... ...... Do you remember? Traveling one! Are you done talking with your companions? Yes, wonderful, wonderful!

Funny little tidbit that these three characters all speak alike isn't it :)

Okay. With aesthetics out of the way, let's move onto the next tier of this iceberg:

THE MECHANICS OF FORGETTING AND BEING FORGOTTEN

I realize in the process of writing that we must outline the nature of the curse. What gets forgotten and what gets to stay?

The particularity that's important to us right now is: what people get forgotten?

All evidence points toward this: an entire person is only forgotten if they were physically present on the island when it vanished.

I'm pulling up two example cases to prove it: Siffrin and the Daydreaming One.

The thing with Siffrin is: we know he witnessed the exact moment the island vanished. And, very notably, Siffrin was in a boat.

You can get the dialogue that proves this only in ACT 2 in a secret room most people don't find on their first playthroughs, which is both very funny and very evil. Here's the dialogue.

Siffrin: "I ran away from home once!" [...] Siffrin: "And so I took our boat! Got to the beach, rowed away from the shore a bit. I was going to come back right away, I just wanted to scare my parents a bit!" [...]

Siffrin: "I started to row back towards the shore... And then, I... I... ..." Isabeau: ... Sif? Siffrin: (Woah! What?) "Um, yes?" Isabeau: Um... You were telling us how you ran away from home? Siffrin: "I... was?" Odile: You... Were. Bonnie: DID YOU FORGET WHAT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT WHILE TALKING ABOUT IT?!?

Siffrin is from the island, but was not physically present when it disappeared. This resulted in Siffrin forgetting their entire identity, including given name and spoken/written language.

Additionally, this is confirmed via Word of God to be the exact moment the island disappeared, so here's proof I'm not reading into it:

Shoutout to bibliomaniac's insane google spreadsheet for the easily searchable screenshot. god bless. Brinny, ily.

On the other hand, with the Daydreaming One, we have proof of a person who is not originally from the island, but was physically on it at the time of disappearance.

Siffrin: "Don't you have a sister?" Daydreaming One: I... I don't? I just said I'm an only child, silly!

(For her to forget someone like her sister, so easily... Her sister must've traveled to...)

Secondly, we know that remnants of the island were not completely forgotten immediately.

Memory faded gradually, starting with the ability to still speak and think about it with accompanying headaches, until it ramped up in intensity and everything is simply gone.

The Sparkling Diary in the library is more or less proof. Memory of the island was gone, but... people still remembered that they forgot something. People still knew what they were talking about, (an island north of Vaugarde), just without the specifics.

"Urgh. Also, Dad noticed no one can say the name of the island north of here anymore?" "I tried to say it yesterday and I got like the WEIRDEST headache for HOURS."

And Odile also remarks the following

Odile: We also know that people could remember that country clearly, before.

This will be relevant later. Moving on.

CONTRIVANCES

THE HOUSE'S OBSERVATORY

SO. The House of Change of Dormont has this funny little room on the third floor. It's an observatory. To look at stars with. When entering this room for the first time, Mirabelle says this:

Mirabelle: What...? Was there a room like this in the House? Y-yeah, I remember! Someone was working here... Studying... They looked like... ... Um... Sorry, I can't remember.

This reveals to us several things:

This room is innate to the House, and not brought here by the King's weird redecorating

Someone from the House was using it for study

All memory of who or what was studying and being studied was erased alongside the island's existence

Of course we can say, "yo, what if Euphrasie was using this room and just forgot?" but that is. a headcanon. I ADMIT! It is a stipulation

However, I find the general presence of the Island written all over the House incredibly interesting.

Inside the Observatory, there's a pile of papers with messy handwriting. You can't read these in until ACT 4. Even in ACT 4, you can't read them. But you do learn what's written on them.

(A pile of papers.) (It looks like someone was trying to write your country's name.)

Inside the observatory is also a globe. Upon repeated interaction in... act 4, i think, you get this:

(You see a spot on the globe where the paint has started wearing out, like someone kept dragging their finger on it.) (You drag your finger there too.) (Erased. You almost want to look for lightless paint.)

BOOKS

During the various quests to discover the truth of the loops, you run into a lot of books, written in the forgotten language. Now, Dormont is not close to the island. Dormont is not close to the coast.

Bambouche is. That's why Bonnie has heard about the island before and knows it was a big deal - they lived really close to it.

Bonnie (and then1): I think, I think my village was really close to it!!! My sister said it was all everyone could talk about for weeks!!! Mirabelle (anxious1): That's so frightening... I'm glad that whatever happened, she didn't get caught up in it!

As we can see in this map, Dormont is in the southern half of the country, and very centrally at that, meaning it has basically maximum distance from all waters and ports. So why does this landlocked small town have so many books in this language?

These aren't just dry books, either. In Dormont's library, there's actually a translated version of volume 2 of The Cursing of Chateau Castle.

(You take the book out again.) (You can read its title, now...) (Your heart is beating, badump, badump, badump.) (It's...) (... A translated copy of "The Cursing of Château Castle", issue #2.) (You start laughing.)

CONCLUSION OF THIS SECTION

Islanders lived in Dormont. Maybe even multiple! We've established that whoever is in Dormont when it vanished would not simply disapper, instead

they forgot where they're from.

One day, the islanders in Dormont could no longer remember being anywhere but Dormont. Being anything but Vaugardian. The observatory fell into disuse, as the person studying there gradually forgot what they used it for, even as they desparately tried to hold onto it, boring holes into the globe, and scribbling its name over and over until its unintelligible.

And, in all likelihood, eventually that knowledge was just gone forever. They simply became part of Dormont, none the wiser to their own history.

Books slipped into cracks. Rooms fell into disuse. Nobody remembered to clean out the remnants.

Now. The real cinch of this.

Why, in particular, do I think Euphrasie is one of them?

Answer me this, then.

How does Euphie know what Wish Craft is?

1. How could she read it?

Euphrasie knew specifically that Wish Craft exists, when all books on it are written in a language nobody can read.

The book in the storage room? The diary in the room behind the star door? The book in the secret library? None of them are legible.

There are no legible records of Wish Craft.

2. What about the Favor Tree?

Euphrasie knew specifically that Wish Craft is related to the Favor Tree. It's also a Vaugardian practice to make requests of the Favor Tree, but they're just that - requests. Nobody thinks they actually have power.

Only Euphrasie does. She thinks it's the key to defeating the King.

(This is... A list of people who wished to save Vaugarde!!!) (You look around her desk, trying to find out more.) (Why would she record the people who wished to save Vaugarde?) (... There!!!) (It's a little notebook, jammed between random boring paperwork...) (In it, the Head Housemaiden talks about Wish Craft... How in the days before the King attacked, she noticed everyone was wishing to the Favor Tree for the same thing:) (To save Vaugarde.) (And she started wondering if this wish could be the key to the King's defeat, somehow...) (So the Head Housemaiden knew about Wish Craft!!!)

Except, when Isabeau talks about it...

Isabeau: Well, it's just a random big tree. But when you're a believer of the House of Change, the biggest tree in a certain place is called a Favor Tree! It's like, it’s the tree with the most power, so you can ask it things? As a favor?

He struggles a little to explain it. Almost, as though the tradition came from some other culture, imported into Vaugarde, and no one can definetely remember where it came from.

To note, here, is that the Favor Tree is hugely associated with Loop, and wishes in general. Wishing on a Favor Tree is such a hugely powerful ritual when executed correctly, that it caused the entire timeloops.

And I'm not even gonna break out citations to prove that Wish Craft is associated with the island. Come on. You know that. You played the game. It's required to beat the game.

If you haven't beaten the game, what the fuck are you doing here. Go back and play it, baka.

3. Something's breaking, failing, rotting

At the end of ACT 4, when Siffrin confronts Euphrasie about her knowledge of Wish Craft, Euphrasie is distinctly aware of this: the people of Vaugarde are wishing wrong.

It's true. All of Vaugarde wished to the Favor Tree, wished for us to be saved. We wished for a savior. A way for us to win against the King. And Wish Craft gave us the means to do it, didn't it? Made sure it'd work? [...] But... But something went wrong, didn't it? Something goes wrong, every time!!! [...] The only answer I can find... Is it's because we did it wrong. I don't know what happened But we must've done it wrong!!! None of us in Vaugarde knew the exact ritual, but-- But we must have done it so wrong, it broke, and it doesn't answer to us at all anymore!!! [...] I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!!!

There's only one person who knew how to make a Wish correctly. And he made it by sheer instinct. Something they could not place even if they tried. Just... a forgotten ritual, dredged back up by muscle memory. Something he's probably been doing since he's a little kid, something that's so backed into their habits they use Wish Craft to carve figurines out of wood.

To end, I leave you with this. Dialogue you get when you try to talk to Euphrasie again, before you talked to everybody else.

If you talk to me... REALLY talk to me... It's all over. What "it" is, I have no idea... I know... I can feel that... I couldn't change whatever comes next, even if I wanted to. But I know it is the will of the Change God. Or, no, perhaps... The will of something even bigger... ... Something will end, once you talk to me.

There is a way for Euphrasie to know all of this. To know Wish Craft exists, to be aware she's doing it wrong, but not knowing, remembering quite enough to get it right.

If she knew it all beforehand already.

[meanbossart]

i just need to take a second to gush about how much i love durge drow and astarion, they feel so fleshed out and perfectly written together in their fucked up wretched ways. They really inspire me to write more for my own tavs, hopefully one day ill be able to say im as happy with my own work as i get when seeing yours. I have to ask though, do you have any tips on drawing head shapes and faces? or maybe about wrinkles? i find i really struggle with that stuff when drawing and i adore how expressive and grungey all your art looks!

First of all thank you so much, I love hearing what people think of the two of them together 😭

Honestly you've hit on something that's quite near and dear to my heart, I love developing and figuring how to draw and stylize different faces to get the most unique, interesting looking results - everything about the details is highly rewarding to me. What does x type of nose look like from this angle? In this style? How can this eyeshape best translate to my art? How different does a face look when its making this expression? What does that MOUTH DO? etc etc.

In fact you kind of inspired me to put a little tutorial/guide together the last hour lmao and what a blessing it is that the two current subjects of this blog serve as great models here, being that their faces are basically polar opposites!

When it comes to heads, you've probably heard it a dozen times before that you want to think of them in terms of geometry and facets; my process to drawing them is pretty conventional so I won't spend too much time on it, but it goes something like this:

Obviously I don't do every single one of these steps most of the time, which is just something that comes from practice/developing muscle memory, but it is helpful to start off this way for two main reasons:

By making these guide lines and splitting a head into pieces like this, you'll have an easier time seeing and understanding it as a multidimensional object, and in turn, facilitate It for you when you venture out into doing wacky angles and lighting.

Making different headshapes starts HERE. notice how Astarion's "face" slate is narrower and longer, how my durge's jaw pieces sit lower on the head, how all of the same pieces came together in the same way but we ended up with one real pointy elf and a real brick of a drow - making characters look different successfully begins very early in the sketching process.

The next thing you want to do branches out into every day life: start noticing yours and other people's facial features. How does an upturned nose look from a high angle? How does the size of someone's cheekbones affect what they look like when they smile? How about when the light hits them a certain way? Does someone's lip shape changes when they pout? When they laugh? How does a person's hairline change the shape of their face? You do NOT need to creepily sketch every stranger you see on the bus, but get into the habit of actually noticing what people look like when you talk to them - when you look at pictures, when you watch movies - make a mental list of interesting ways mouths, noses, and eyes can come together in a variety of different proportions to make completely distinct looking mugs, and how they change depending on how you are looking at them.

Light and shadow play a HUGE role in how faces look, too, basically as crucial as actual bone structure does. As you see up there I tried to rough out how natural, head on, and underhead light would look on these two very different looking guys, and while we can see definite patterns, there are small differences that come to be because of the sizes and shapes of their features.

Here is a very, very basic look at how some of these features come to look the way they do, how they interact with one another, and how they compare between a blocky, rather conventionally "masculine" head and one that's much softer and slimmer.

Note please that it is not one or two characteristics that give a chaarcter their "look"; you can reduce a face to eyes, mouth, and nose through stylization and still have them be recognizable, but if you want to do more than that, you have to consider the whole package! Chin, cheeks, brows, direction of the jaw, slope and size of the forehead, depth of eyes, ridge of the nose, etc - I know this is probably far more than you bargained for, but if you start making note of a FEW of these things now and slowly add on, this will eventually become second nature to you.

Similarly, understanding how these characteristics come together will help you with rendering light and shadow in a realistic way, and predicting what their facial expressions may look like - if no two people are alike, neither are their smiles. :)

Lastly, remember that I'm no expert - I have developed my own methods and semiotics and yours may look slightly (or vastly) different, and that's fine! I hope only that by sharing this it has given you a base to work off of.

Anyways, I HOPE this has been helpful and not just the unsolicited ramblings of a face pervert.

[daryldicksuckon69]

Unspoken Truths (16+)

Pair: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Alexandria Era (No particular season, Glenn, Abraham live and there's no Saviors)

Tags: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Teasing by the whole group

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: none

Summary: Daryl and Reader and reminded that they need to step into reality and admit the growing attraction between the two of them that literally everyone else sees except them.

@futuremilfemma hey :) i saw that your request were open and i had something in my mind 🤭 first of all i love your fics and your writing style especially in „ride his motorcycle“ when the character had this cute relationship with the women of the group and their little gossip sessions. sooo i was wondering if you could write something like this: the group finally settles down in alexandria (pre negan) the reader and daryl have known eachother since the quarry (they went hunting together. bonded over past trauma, etc.) and they have always hit it off and are now labeled as best friends but everyone around them can see that they feel more. like they try and convince them to confess and all but they just keep admiring eachother from afar especially daryl when he sees the reader getting ready for the party at deanna‘s? sorry if that‘s too much i would just love reading something like this

A/N: Thanks for the request emma, I hope this is what you were looking for. I was keke-ing while writing about the girls and guys teasing reader and daryl haha

The walls of Alexandria loomed in the distance, a symbol of safety and normalcy in a world where both had become distant memories. Daryl, perched against the frame of the front porch, watched the community come alive. People bustled about, preparing for a party Deanna was hosting that night—a strange but welcome change of pace from the endless survivalist days on the road.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about all this. The quiet, the calm—it unnerved him. It was a stark contrast to the constant danger they’d faced since the prison, the farm; since anything in his life, even before people lost their brains: Alexandria seemed almost too good to be true.

And then there was you.

You had been with him from the beginning, always by his side during hunts, sharing long silences and stories of past hurts, unspoken but understood. Over the years, you’d become his anchor, the one person he could trust completely. The one person he didn’t feel judged by, and the one who saw past his rough exterior. You got him in a way no one else did.

Which is why it was complicated now, more than ever.

His gaze flickered to the house where you were getting ready for the party. The curtains were drawn back, and he could see you through the open window. You’d always been beautiful to him, though he’d never said it aloud. That wasn’t his way, after all. But tonight, something was different. Maybe it was the fact that you had spent so long getting ready, or maybe it was the way the soft glow of the evening light bathed you in an ethereal warmth. Whatever it was, Daryl couldn’t look away.

You were standing in front of a mirror, adjusting the dress he’d recognised all too well. 

You and Daryl had gone on a supply run, just the two of you—like old times. Though Alexandria offered some respite from the chaos, there were still days when you both preferred the quiet of the woods, where the only sounds were your footsteps and the rustle of leaves.

It had been a rough few days, though. A week ago, Spencer, Mayor Deanna’s son, had rejected you. The memory of his dismissive words still stung—how he’d said you were “nice,” but he wasn’t looking for anything serious. It wasn’t just the rejection that hurt, but the way he’d made you feel small, like you were an afterthought.

Daryl hadn’t pried, but he knew something was off. He’d seen the sadness you tried to hide and how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes lately.

“Need somethin’?” Daryl asked as he pulled open the door to what used to be a boutique, stepping inside first to make sure it was clear.

“No, just looking,” you muttered, following him in. The boutique was a sad shell of its former self. Clothes lay scattered across the floor, mannequins toppled, and the scent of dust and decay filled the air.

You trailed behind him, not really interested in finding anything specific—just glad to be moving. Daryl moved with his usual quiet intensity, sifting through racks with a practised eye. He didn’t speak much, but his presence was a comfort. He’d always been that for you, even when words weren’t necessary.

As you wandered near the back of the store, your gaze fell on a shattered mirror. You stared at your reflection for a moment, feeling the weight of Spencer’s rejection creeping back in. The cracked glass seemed to echo how you felt inside—fractured, unimportant.

Suddenly, Daryl’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Hey.”

You turned, and your heart skipped at the sight of him holding up a dress—a simple, sleeveless one in a soft, faded green. He held it awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure how to handle it, but his expression was serious as ever. “Thought this might suit ya.”

For a moment, you were speechless. The idea of Daryl, tough and rugged, holding up a dress for you was almost surreal. But the sincerity in his eyes softened the moment.

“Me?” You arched a brow, stepping closer to inspect the dress. “You really think so?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “Kinda matches your eyes, I guess. I dunno.” He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable but pushing through. “Just… figured ya might like it. After… y’know.”

It took you a second to realise what he meant. After Spencer. It wasn’t just that Spencer had rejected you– it was the casual way he’d brushed you aside, as though your feelings were nothing more than an inconvenience. It has cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

The realisation made your chest tighten, but not with sadness this time—with something else. He wasn’t just showing you a dress. He was trying to make you feel better, in the way only Daryl could.

A soft smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Daryl. That’s… sweet.”

He grunted, clearly embarrassed, his gaze darting away. “Ain’t nothin’. Just a stupid dress.”

But you shook your head. “No, it’s not stupid. I like it.”

For the first time in days, you felt the shadow that had been hanging over you lift just a little. The dress was a gesture, small but significant. Daryl didn’t give compliments easily, and for him to go out of his way to do something like this—it meant more than you could put into words.

You took the dress from his hands, feeling the worn fabric between your fingers. “Maybe I’ll wear it to the next one of Deanna’s parties,” you joked lightly, trying to ease the tension.

Daryl’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a split second, something unreadable passed between you. “You should,” he muttered, his voice low but firm. “You’d look real good.”

You blinked, surprised by the weight behind his words. His gaze lingered on yours for a moment longer before he turned back to the rack of clothes, mumbling something under his breath. It wasn’t like Daryl to give compliments, much less ones that carried so much weight.

Your heart fluttered at the thought.

Tucking the dress under your arm, you smiled softly to yourself. Spencer’s rejection suddenly seemed like a distant memory. Maybe it didn’t matter what he thought. Maybe the only person whose opinion really mattered was standing right in front of you.

He saw the way you ran your hands over the fabric, smoothing it down before reaching up to touch your hair. It was rare to see you like this—clean, dressed up. It made his heart race in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He wasn’t even sure if you ever really noticed how hard he tried, in his own way, to make you feel like you mattered.

“What’re you starin’ at, Dixon?”

Daryl stiffened at the voice behind him. Rick. Of course.

“Nothin’,” he muttered, turning away from the window as if caught doing something wrong. But Rick wasn’t buying it, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth told Daryl that much.

“Yeah, sure. Nothin’.” Rick chuckled softly, clapping a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “Everyone sees it, you know.”

Daryl frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Sees what?”

Rick raised an eyebrow. “You and her. You think nobody’s noticed the way you two are? C’mon, Daryl. It’s obvious.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, his boots scraping against the porch floor. He wanted to scoff, shrug it off like Rick was wrong, but the truth stuck in his throat like splinters. It wasn't just how you made him feel—he was terrified of what would happen if you knew.

“Ain’t like that.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Rick’s tone was teasing but gentle, like he knew exactly what Daryl was feeling. “You ever think about just… telling her?”

Daryl’s throat tightened at the thought. Confess? To you? The idea seemed ridiculous. You were his best friend—why would you want anything more from a guy like him? You deserved better. Someone who could give you more than just broken words and awkward silences.

“Nah,” he finally muttered. “Ain’t my place.”

Rick sighed, giving him a sympathetic look. “You’re not fooling anyone. Just think about it.”

With that, Rick walked away, leaving Daryl alone with his thoughts. He huffed in frustration, casting another glance toward your window. You were moving now, stepping back from the mirror to admire your reflection. A soft smile touched your lips, and something inside Daryl clenched.

He didn’t deserve to feel this way, did he? Not about you.

But he couldn’t help it.

The small house in Alexandria buzzed with excitement as you stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the green dress Daryl had found for you on that run weeks ago. You weren’t exactly used to getting dressed up, and the idea of attending Deanna’s party made you feel awkward, even if the people around you seemed eager for a night of normalcy.

Behind you, Rosita lounged on the bed with her legs crossed, twirling a strand of her hair, while Carol and Maggie were sorting through a small pile of accessories on the table. Michonne leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, a knowing smirk already playing at her lips.

“You know,” Rosita said, eyeing you with a sly grin, “if you’re getting all dolled up like that, maybe it’s not just for the party.”

You blinked at her through the mirror. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Carol chimed in, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “You’ve been wearing that same look all afternoon. Like you’re not sure if you’re nervous about the party or something else… or someone else.”

Your cheeks burned instantly, and you turned to look at her. “Carol, don’t start—”

“Daryl,” Maggie finished for her, waggling her eyebrows playfully. “We’re talking about Daryl.”

You groaned, shaking your head, but the teasing only intensified. Michonne smirked, uncrossing her arms and stepping closer. “Oh yeah. It’s obvious,” she added. “The way he looks at you… like he’s ready to rip apart anyone who so much as breathes in your direction.”

“Pfft,” Rosita snickered, shifting on the bed. “That man’s got it bad for you. I mean, you’ve been glued to his side since day one. You’re practically the Bonnie to his Clyde. Except way less murder-y… sometimes.”

You laughed despite yourself. “We’re just friends.”

Maggie let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “If you two are ‘just friends,’ then Rick and Michonne are still ‘just patrolling together,’” she teased, throwing a playful glance at Michonne, who raised a brow in mock offense.

“Hey, at least Rick and I own it now,” Michonne quipped, smirking. “You two? You’ve been dancing around each other forever.”

“Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment,” Carol said thoughtfully, her smile turning softer. “Daryl’s like that. He’s patient, but… when he cares about someone, he doesn’t let go.”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up at her words. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before—about Daryl, about what he meant to you. But you’d always pushed those thoughts aside. Why ruin a good thing?

Rosita, though, wasn’t about to let you off the hook. She stood up and walked over, grinning as she picked up a necklace from the table and held it up to your neck. “Come on, admit it. You’ve noticed the way he looks at you, haven’t you? He watches you like you’re the last good thing in this world.”

You swallowed hard, your mind drifting back to the way Daryl had looked at you earlier today when you caught him staring before the party. The way his eyes softened just slightly, the way he averted his gaze as if he was afraid of being caught.

Maggie smirked, stepping closer and nudging your arm. “Face it, girl. Y’all are the definition of ‘cute couple that won’t admit it.’”

“I—” you started, but Michonne cut you off, crossing her arms again with a teasing grin.

“Daryl may be rough around the edges, but let me tell you, when it comes to you…” She paused for dramatic effect, raising a brow. “He’d take real good care of you.”

Your face went hot. “Michonne!”

“What?” Rosita laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulder as she wiggled her brows. “You know it’s true. He’s got that whole protective thing going on, like he’s just waiting to step in and—”

“Rosita, stop,” you groaned, covering your face in embarrassment.

But the room erupted into laughter, and even you couldn’t help but smile behind your hands. The teasing was relentless, but you knew it came from a place of love. They saw something in the way Daryl and you interacted—something you had been too scared to fully acknowledge yourself.

As the laughter died down, Carol stepped forward, her expression soft and kind. “We’re only teasing because we care about you. And him. He might not be good with words, but Daryl… he shows how he feels in other ways.”

Maggie nodded, her voice gentle. “Like finding that dress for you. You know he didn’t just stumble on it by accident, right? He wanted you to have something nice. For yourself.”

“I can think of something else he wants her to have all to herself,” Rosita quips, turning the room into a bottle of laughter once again. 

You looked down at the green fabric, brushing your fingers over it. Daryl had given it to you during one of your lowest moments, and you hadn’t realised until now how much it truly meant. It wasn’t just a dress. It was his way of saying he saw you, that you mattered to him.

Rosita gave you a playful nudge. “He may not say it out loud, but actions speak louder than words, right?”

You met her eyes through the mirror, and for a moment, everything felt so clear. The tension between you and Daryl had been building for so long, and maybe—just maybe—it was time to stop pretending it didn’t exist.

“Whatever happens tonight,” Maggie said, adjusting a bracelet on your wrist, “just remember—we all think you two would be great together.”

“Yeah,” Rosita added with a wink, “and don’t be surprised if Daryl tries to ‘take real good care of you’ later.”

You groaned again, laughing despite yourself. “You guys are terrible.”

Michonne grinned, her voice low and teasing. “Terrible? Maybe. But we’re right.”

And deep down, you really wanted them to be right.

The sun had begun to set by the time the party was in full swing. The house was filled with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses as the residents of Alexandria tried to pretend, just for a moment, that the world outside wasn’t in ruins. Daryl stood in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest, scanning the room with the practised eye of someone who never quite let his guard down.

And then you walked in.

He hadn’t seen you since earlier when you were getting ready, and now that you were here, it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. The dress you wore was simple, but it hugged your frame in a way that made Daryl’s heart stutter. Your hair was loose, framing your face, and your eyes… your eyes were searching the room until they found him.

When you smiled, his throat went dry.

Daryl quickly looked away, feeling like an idiot. He was supposed to be a damn hunter, a man of few words, not some lovesick fool gawking at his best friend from across the room.

“Wow,” came a voice at his side. Daryl looked over to see Carol, who had caught his reaction and was now giving him a knowing grin. “You really should tell her, you know.”

“Not you too,” Daryl grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Carol chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m just saying, Daryl. It’s been obvious for a long time. She feels the same way—you can see it in the way she looks at you.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know how to respond to that. Feel the same way? No. That couldn’t be possible. Could it?

“Why don’t you go talk to her?” Carol nudged him gently. “It’s a party, after all.”

Daryl hesitated. He wasn’t good with this kind of stuff—feelings, emotions, talking. But as he glanced back at you, standing there, laughing with Maggie and Glenn, he realised that maybe Rick and Carol were right.

You spotted him as he was walking out into the yard, your eyes lighting up as you excused yourself from the conversation and made your way over to him just outside the house.

He could spend the rest of his life admiring you from afar, or he could take a risk.

"I'm goin' out for a smoke," Daryl nods, as he leaves through the back door.

The dim street light reflected the sheen of sweat on his toned bicep, Daryl’s eye locked on you as you made your way over to him. It was hard to see his expression as the setting of the sun glared in your eyes.

His heart pounded in his chest as you approached, every step making him more nervous than he’d ever been facing walkers.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, stopping just in front of him. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Daryl mumbled, avoiding your gaze for a moment before finally looking at you. “You, uh… you look nice.”

You smiled, a hint of surprise flickering in your eyes. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He snorted at that, shaking his head. “Ain’t nothin’ fancy ‘bout me.”

“I like you just the way you are,” you said, your voice soft but sincere.

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat. There it was again—that feeling. The one he’d been trying to ignore for so long. The one that made his heart race whenever you were near. He swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.

Before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out.

“You ever think about… us?”

Your brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Us,” he repeated, his voice rougher than he intended. “I mean… hell, I dunno. Everyone keeps sayin’… like maybe there’s more. Between us.”

You blinked, processing his words, and for a moment Daryl feared he’d made a huge mistake. But then your expression softened, and you took a small step closer.

“Yeah,” you admitted quietly. “I’ve thought about it. A lot.”

Daryl’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Yeah?”

You nodded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “I thought you’d never say anything.”

“I didn’t think I deserved to,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled at that, and the warmth in your eyes nearly undid him. “You’ve always deserved it, Daryl.”

And with that, the unspoken truth between you finally became clear. You had always been more than just best friends. You had always been each other’s home, in this world of chaos and ruin.

Maybe it was time you both admitted it.

The moment hung between you and Daryl like a fragile thread, one pull away from unraveling everything. His admission still echoed in your ears, making your heart race. You stood in front of him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, your pulse quickening with each second that passed. You could feel the tension—thick, electric—stretching between you, both of you aware that this was a moment you couldn’t come back from.

You swallowed, your throat tight. “Daryl…”

He was still avoiding your gaze, the vulnerability in his expression so foreign it almost took your breath away. Daryl Dixon, the man who had survived everything, was scared—of you, of what this meant. You could see it in the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides, the way his jaw tightened as if he was bracing himself for something he couldn’t control.

But there was something else in his eyes too. Something raw and hungry, something that made your skin tingle.

“Daryl,” you whispered again, softer this time, stepping closer. He didn’t back away. Instead, his blue eyes flickered up to meet yours, and the intensity there sent a shiver down your spine.

Before either of you could think twice, before you could second-guess or push it away, your hands found his jacket, gripping the worn leather like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality. His breath hitched as you closed the distance between you, and in the next heartbeat, your lips were on his.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative—like you were testing the waters, unsure of how far you could go. But the moment his lips moved against yours, the hesitation melted away. Daryl’s hands came up to your waist, pulling you closer as if he’d been holding himself back for too long. The gentle touch of his calloused fingers sent sparks through your skin, making you gasp against his mouth.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

The kiss deepened, his grip tightening around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. The world outside—the party, the people, the chaos—faded into the background until it was just you and Daryl. You could taste the intensity of his need, the years of unspoken words between you bleeding into every brush of your lips. He kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered, like he’d been starving for this—starving for you.

Your heart pounded as you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low, guttural sound from the back of his throat. The noise sent a wave of heat rushing through your body, and suddenly, you wanted more. Needed more.

Daryl seemed to feel the same. His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing the fabric of your dress in a way that made you shiver. He broke the kiss just long enough to look at you, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with want.

“You sure ‘bout this?” he rasped, his voice rough with restraint. His thumb traced slow circles on your hip, as though he was fighting against the very desire that had his body trembling with tension.

In response, you tugged him down again, crashing your lips against his. It wasn’t soft this time. It was all heat and desperation, like you couldn’t get enough of him, like you were trying to make up for all the time you’d spent denying this.

He groaned against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as his hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you closer. You could feel his body against yours, all hard muscle and heat, and it made your knees weak. Without breaking the kiss, Daryl backed you against the nearest wall, your back pressing against the cool surface as his mouth trailed down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck.

“God, Daryl,” you breathed, your fingers clutching his shoulders as he kissed his way down your throat, the rough scrape of his stubble igniting a fire beneath your skin.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips swollen from the kiss, his breathing heavy. “I ain’t… I ain’t good at this,” he muttered, his voice low, filled with doubt. But there was a vulnerability there too, a softness that made your heart ache.

You cupped his face in your hands, brushing your thumb along his jawline. “You’re better than you think,” you whispered, leaning in to press another soft kiss to his lips.

The reassurance seemed to break whatever was left of his hesitation. His hands were back on you, running down your sides, his fingers skimming over your dress before gripping your thighs and lifting you up effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you could feel every inch of him pressed against you.

Daryl kissed you again, rougher this time, his hands sliding under your dress, fingertips brushing against bare skin. His touch was searing, leaving trails of fire in its wake, and the need pooling in your core only intensified. His body pressed against yours, pinning you against the wall, and you could feel the hard planes of his chest, the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Daryl…” you whispered, your breath hitching as his hands roamed higher, slipping beneath your dress. Every touch sent a shiver of pleasure through you, and you arched against him, craving more of his heat, more of him.

His lips were back on yours, his kiss desperate and demanding. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he held himself back, like he was afraid of losing control. But that was exactly what you wanted—you wanted him to lose control, to let go of all the tension he’d been holding for so long. His hands were gripping your waist, pulling you closer, and the heat between you was undeniable. His breath was heavy against your neck, lips grazing your skin, when—

“Daryl? You out here?” Rick’s voice cut through the air like a bucket of cold water.

Both of you froze, bodies tense and pressed together against the wall. You heard the sound of boots approaching, and panic shot through you. Daryl stepped back quickly, dropping his hands from your waist, but not before Rick rounded the corner, his brows shooting up in surprise.

“Oh, uh—sorry,” Rick said, holding up his hands in a mock surrender, though there was a smirk creeping onto his face. “Didn’t mean to… interrupt.”

Your face flushed red as you adjusted your dress, smoothing it down, while Daryl scrubbed a hand over his face, clearly flustered. His shoulders were still tense, and he shot Rick a look that could’ve melted steel.

Rick, ever the leader, just shrugged. “Deanna’s lookin’ for you two. Figured I’d check out back. Didn’t expect to find… this.”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but words failed you. The heat of the moment had been so intense, so all-consuming, that being yanked back to reality felt almost disorienting. Daryl, on the other hand, let out a low grunt, clearly still agitated by the sudden intrusion.

Rick, picking up on the tension, tried to backtrack. “Look, I’ll tell her I couldn’t find you. Give you some more time.”

“No,” you blurted, straightening your back and forcing a shaky laugh. “No, it’s fine. We’ll… we’ll be there in a minute.”

Rick nodded, the smirk still lingering on his lips as he backed away, throwing one last glance at Daryl. “Y’all take your time.”

As soon as he was gone, you and Daryl were left in awkward silence. You dared a glance at him, his eyes still burning with something you couldn’t quite place—frustration, embarrassment, maybe both. He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head slightly.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rougher than usual. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

You swallowed hard, the moment that had felt so heated now replaced with a strange tension. But you managed a small smile, stepping closer and brushing your fingers lightly against his hand. “It’s not your fault.”

His gaze flickered to you, softer now, but still conflicted. He hesitated, like he wasn’t sure what to say next, but before he could speak, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Come on,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “Let’s get back inside.”

As you walked back inside, Daryl’s hand brushing yours was a silent promise. The air between you was charged with what had just happened, but there was a new understanding. “We’ll talk later,” you said quietly, and he nodded, a small smile breaking through his earlier tension.

The house was bustling when you walked back in, laughter and music filling the air, the warmth of the party wrapping around you like a blanket. You felt a bit dishevelled, your mind still lingering on what had almost happened out there.

As you stepped inside, you were greeted with knowing looks from your friends. Maggie’s eyes landed on you first, and she exchanged a smirk with Rosita, who was sitting on the couch. Carol and Michonne were nearby, their gazes flicking between you and Daryl, who had taken up his usual stance near the door, trying to stay invisible.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Rosita teased, raising an eyebrow at you. Her eyes darted from you to Daryl, a grin spreading across her face. “You two were gone for a while. Everything okay?”

Your face flushed again, and you glanced at Daryl, who was doing his best to avoid everyone’s eyes. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, shuffling his feet, and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously.

“Yeah,” you managed, trying to sound casual. “We just… needed some air.”

“Uh-huh,” Maggie drawled, her tone dripping with amusement. “Is that what they call it these days?”

Carol, who had been watching quietly from the side, stepped forward with a soft smile. “Glad you two finally got some air. It’s about time.”

You blinked, unsure of how to respond, but before you could, Michonne chimed in, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. “You two need a map, or did you manage to find your way back okay?”

“Michonne!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands as everyone around you erupted into laughter. Even Rick, who had rejoined the group, couldn’t suppress his grin.

Daryl, still standing off to the side, cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention. But there was a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You alright, Daryl?” Rick asked, his voice teasing but with genuine care beneath it.

Daryl grunted in response, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ain’t nothin’,” he muttered, but his eyes briefly flicked to you, and the tension between you was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

Rosita, never one to miss a beat, leaned back on the couch and sighed dramatically. “Well, if that’s what fresh air does, maybe we should all get some.”

Laughter rippled through the group again, and this time, you couldn’t help but laugh with them. The teasing, though relentless, was filled with warmth, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you. They weren’t judging you—they were happy. Happy that, after everything, you and Daryl had finally taken a step toward something more.

Carol caught your eye, her smile gentle as ever. “Don’t let us embarrass you too much. We’re just glad you both finally stopped dancing around it.”

As the laughter subsided, you and Daryl exchanged a look that spoke volumes. It wasn’t the end of the conversation, but it was a start. You reached out, gently touching his arm, and he responded with a nod. In the midst of the party’s warmth, there was a new, tentative promise between you—an acknowledgment of all the unspoken truths that had simmered between you for so long.

There was a new, tentative promise between you—a promise to face the unspoken truths head-on. It was a promise of more conversations, more moments, and perhaps, the start of a deeper connection where everything that had remained unsaid would finally have a place.

[islayhawkin]

Savior

Jack dawkins x f!reader

Summery: you get hurt and jack does everything in his power to save you

Request: i loooooove your writing and i was wondering if you could do a htc with jack dawkins, maybe reader gets hurt and he had to operate & just them after xxx

A/N: ahh thank you so much! I'd never miss a chance to write angst and hurt/comfort 😌 Jack is one of the most unfamiliar characters for me right now so I‘m still trying to figure him out but I‘m happy that you guys seem to like it

Warnings!: blood, wounds, surgeries (basically everything that happens in the show too)

Angst, hurt/comfort

It had been a usual work day at the hospital for jack. Almost boringly so. Nothing really seemed to happen. No surgeries were planned. Only patients with some problem or another. That was until you came falling into his arms in the evening. Literally.

You stumbled into the hospital door with a hand on your bleeding abdomen. Your breath was heavy and you tried to blink the nauseous feeling away but had to hold yourself up against the wall. It left a bloody print on it but you didn‘t notice as you staggered over to Jacks room.

It wasn’t really logical to aim for Jacks room since he probably was still at work in the hospital but it was the first place you could think of. Lucky for you, Jack turned the corner into the hall and discovered you slumping against the wall.

His heart almost came to a stop at the sight before starting to bound out of control again. He ran over to your side with long strides and quickly wrapped his arm around your waist to holy you upright. His hands were shaking.

"What happened?" His accent was thicker than usual, panicked.

"Stabbed." You breathed out, barely getting the word out.

Jack cursed under his breath and quickly took action. He pulled his neckerchief from his neck and pressed it against the wound earning ragged breaths from you.

"Apologies. Press it." He ordered firmly. You had never seen him quite so stern with you. But Jack had no time for gentle words, he had to act quickly.

He swiftly picked you up bridal style with his hand in the crook of your knee and carried you over to the operation table. Meanwhile he screamed for Hetty or any nurse or help nearby for that matter.

You hang limply in his arms. Though you tried to follow his order to press the cloth against your abdomen, it was difficult to mentain the strength in your arm.

The feeling of your limp body against him didn't help Jacks panic. It wasn't as if the wound seemed so gruesome. He had seen and operated a lot more but this was different. It was you.

Usually he went into surgeries with ease. He put on a show for the audience, operate with steady hands and show off a bit. Now he wasn't even sure if he could do it.

It was his heart that looked at you not his brain. But he needed to push through and shut his heart off for a moment.

Jack pushed some things roughly from the operation table, which made a clattering sound as the stuff hit the floor.

At last Hetty rushed into the room too and her eyes widened at the sight before her. She knew what you meant to him.

Jack looked up briefly as she entered. "We need to check for any interanal demage immediately, then sew it close."

With quick fingers Jack pucked up his gear and sat it on the side table.

"Are you sure you are in a position to perform this surgery dr dawkins?" Hetty asked hesitantely.

"I have to." Jack snapped at her.

"Jack..." you whispered trying to catch his attention.

His eyes flew to yours and what he saw in them broke him. You were afraid. Terrified. He felt as if you were afraid of him. He was gonna cut you open, he was going to hurt you. But he needed to.

He swallowed. "It'll be okay love. I promise. I'm going to have to operate on you now but you will not feel anything." He tried to reassure you. Desperate to get that terrified look off of your face.

You searched him with your hand and gripped onto his pants. You needed some kind of closure to him. He understood and took your hand in his. Giving it a reassuring squeeze. There was blood smeared everywhere on your hands but that didn't matter.

He held a mask over your mouth with his other hand. "Just breathe. You'll feel nothing." He whispered.

That's the last thing you remembered before you slipped into a sweet sleep.

The moment you were out jack immediately went into action and took the scalpel from hettys hand. His hand trembled slightly and he pinched his fingers together in a attempt to get it under control.

It felt so wrong to hurt you. Of course he knew that he was just saving you. He did that on a daily basis. But your delicate form usually snuggled up against him, the one he was made to protect, to cut with a knife made him almost feel it on his own skin.

Hetty gave him a concerned look but didn't say anything else. He tried to focus on the task at hand and definately not look at your face. He had to take short breaks where he leaned on the desk and breathed deeply in and out but in the end the procedure went well.

After he had closed you up and checked for the 10th time if you still had pulse and were breathing, he picked you up in his arms gently and carried you to a free bed in a seperate room with ease. He'd get you positioned in his room later anyways.

It was dark already so he lit a candle on your bedside table.

He took a deep breath and gave himself permission to relax for the first time since you came stumbleing in. He got a blanket and gently draped it over you. He checked your pulse again and sat down on a chair next to your bed.

Jack slumped down and put his head in his hands. It had been terrible to witness, to do himself and it didn't leave him unscathered. The dried blood was still on his hands as he went through his hair.

He was distressed to say the least by this whole situation, not only felt he responsible for what happened to you, as if he should have protected you better, shouldn't have to cut you open, but also was this feeling terrifieingly new to him.

Jack was a street kid. He had grown up seeing gore and death. And he was a surgeon. He was living with death constantly. He had a living human under his hands daily. But with you it made him feel terrified.

He also wasn't very often terrified. His eyes moisted up. And he blinked hastily to get it away again.

So he engulfed your smaller hand in his big, calloused one. He had always loved the feeling of your hand in his. It made him feel like he was protecting you even though he failed so miserably in real.

You started to gain consciousness again as you blinked your eyes open slowly. The first thing you noticed was that everything hurt. The second was your hand resting in another and your gaze fluttered to jack on your side. He honestly looked a mess. Not that he looked less good because of it.

"You look like a mess." You muttered your thought out loud.

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice. "You're awake." He checked you over even though he knew excactly what state you were in.

Your hand softly squeezed his.

"How are you feeling? Are you feeling sick or dizzy?" He started to pepper you with questions.

"Feels horrible. Like I was hit by a horse." you croaked out.

Jack grimaced. "Yeah that's normal." He opened his mouth to start a sentence but clamped it shut again. Swallowing.

"I was really afraid." He whispered. His big brown eyes looking at yours sincerly.

You smiled weakly. "I was too. I'm glad you were there. Thank you."

He shook his head. "No that's not- I should've been there for you. I'll never forget that frightened look on your face...what happened excactly?"

You sighed and closed your eyes. "I was assaulted. Honestly I'm not sure what they wanted. Probably harass and rob me or something. Well I fought against them and it seemed they didn't like that very much. Stabbed me in the gut and left me on the street."

Jack ran a hand over his face. "I am so sorry. Still I'm glad that you at least weren't sexually assaulted... I shouldn't have let you gone outside alone. I told you it was too dangerous!" Jacks eyes started to wet again at the mental image.

"No. There is always a risk I know that. But i don't want you to- and I can't ask you to escort me everywhere I go. Just...thank you for saving me jack."

"Of course. I was bloody shaking doing that you know?" He gave you a small smile.

"You are the most chill person in a surgery." You stated confused.

"Well not when it's you under my scalpel."

He took the side of your face in his hands. Your skin was still pale. His eyes were switching between yours. "I don't want anything to happen to you ever again. I don't think I could bare it." He whispered. His face incredibly close to yours.

You layed your hand on to of his. "You're always there to save me if it should hapoen again doctor dawkins."

"I cannot fathom a life without you in it Y/N." He whispered.

You smiled lovingly up at him. "Will you join me in bed?"

He grinned widely. "Gladly darlin'. We have to be careful of your wounds though so no thigh cuddleing."

"Probably for the best." You groaned slightly as your attention turned back to the pain.

He got into bed next to you. It was a thigh fit but neither of you minded it at all. His movements were very careful and tender as he wrapped his arm around you.

You relaxed against him as he soothed the pain a bit away.

"I'll never let that happen again." He whispered rather to himself before a sweet slumber overcame you both.

[come-see-our-show]

I saw an early screening of the Mean Girls movie last night, so here is a summary of my thoughts, comparing the movie musical to the Broadway musical, which I was lucky enough to see live in 2018!

Changed that I liked:

The usage of social media in the Broadway show made it very clear that it was written by adults who didn’t know much about Gen-Z. It was probably one of the worst parts of the show in my opinion. But Tina Fey must have done her research since 2018, because the way the movie uses TikTok, memes, vlogging, and FaceTime to push the story forward worked VERY well. I think there were some influencer cameos, but it didn’t feel they were included to show how “young and hip” they were, It actually added authenticity.

The diversity within the cast and changing last names to reflect the characters’ backgrounds (Karen Smith ➡️ Karen Shetty, Janis Sarkisian ➡️ Janis 'Imi'ike)

Cutting down “Meet the Plastics.” It’s a very exposition-heavy song and doesn’t need to be super long, even though the full version is quite catchy and fun.

All of the new jokes landed so well, probably because Tina Fey’s writing style is better suited for the screen as opposed to the stage.

This is more of a comparison of the musical vs. the original film, but a big change was The Plastics’ weaponized wokeness (which I talk about here).

The production design for most of the songs was very different. The stage musical has a lot of rock songs, which were changed to a pop sound for the movie. I personally prefer rock musicals, but it was a good way to give the movie a separate identity from its predecessor so it doesn’t risk becoming a carbon copy. It worked on some songs (“Someone Gets Hurt” and “World Burn”) but not on others (“A Cautionary Tale” and “Revenge Party”).

Cutting the joke about Regina’s ass being big. It was a very low-brow joke, which I’m not a fan of, and was just really immature. Thank God that was changed to her falling, which still shows her being embarrassed without her body being the joke.

Explicitly making Janis a lesbian! (It’s only implied in the stage show with “It’s not even true… I only have one butt”) And she goes to prom with a girl while Damien dances with a boy! ALSO THERE’S REJANIS LORE AND IT’S SO HEARTBREAKING I LOVE IT

megan thee stallion just… being there

Miss Norbury and Principal Duvall being a couple and owning a dog together!!!

As a low mezzo, I appreciated whoever decided to lower the key for “I’d Rather Be Me.” I felt very represented 🩷

Having Cady be raised in a single-parent household so it focuses in more on her relationship with her mom. Jenna Fischer was so motherly and sincere and brought a warmth to the movie. Their scene together near the end made me emotional (you’re never too old to ask your parent to stay with you until you fall asleep) (also this is my request to make jenna fischer my mom)

Changes that I didn’t like:

Cutting BOTH of Damian’s solos??? (SHE’S LEAVING!!!!!!!! JUST LIKE MY DAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Cutting “More Is Better.” It wasn’t necessarily a memorable song, but it did give both Cady and Aaron more depth, both as separate characters and within their relationship.

While cutting some of the songs helped with pacing, cutting HALF of the score made me forget that it was a musical sometimes, which sucks because I really like musicals!!!

Other stuff:

The movie was marketed horribly. One of my friends didn’t even know it was gonna be a musical because there were no songs in the trailers 💀 (Also, this isn’t just a Mean Girls problem. The Color Purple also didn’t have any songs in the trailer. I didn’t even know Wonka was a musical until I saw it in theaters, so that was a bit of a shock.) If you’re producing a musical movie, maybe your focus groups should be musical fans, because that’s still a HUGE market.

Auliʻi Cravalho’s voice is STUNNING! She and Jaquel Spivey had great chemistry and their friendship felt so genuine!

The opening and ending transitions from the garage were everything to me

The EDITING

Angourie Rice is a great actor and fit Cady perfectly… except for her singing. Out of the entire cast she was easily the weakest in terms of vocals and it was pretty disappointing since she’s the LEAD. I could barely hear her in the new song “What Ifs” because of how quiet and breathy she was. I think it’s a better written song compared to “Roar” though.

Jon Hamm cameo!

Ashley Park cameo!

I cannot stress enough how funny this movie was. I was probably laughing louder than everyone else in the theatre.

I lost my shit during “Meet the Plastics” when Regina unzipped her jacket and Cady was staring at her boobs. She’s just like me fr 🏳️‍🌈

I know that Regina is a horrible person but I couldn’t find it in me to dislike her in the slightest. She just served too much cunt 😩

Christopher Briney is a good actor, but I don't think he was the right choice for Aaron Samuels. I would hate to ridicule anyone for their looks, but it still plays an important part in casting. Aaron is supposed to be a somewhat naive, wholesome, hot jock (and Regina has high standards, so he better be a fucking model). Briney is definitely a cutie, but gives off “smoldering badboy with a secret sensitive side” energy, which isn’t what Aaron should be.

The fantasy sequences (Stupid With Love, Revenge Party, October 3rd). I LOVE when movie musicals USE the medium to tell stories in a way that they can’t on a stage!!!

THE CHOREO!!! Everyone freezing then shaking in “Someone Get Hurt” AHHHH that entire number was HYPNOTIZING!!!!!!!!!!! My friend told me the choreographer’s name is Kyle Hanagami, so shout out to him. (also reneé rapp was so fucking hot while singing that oh my lord)

I will be calling my pimples “face breasts” from now on (avantika ilysm)

DAMIAN’S FRENCH COVER OF THE ICARLY THEME SONG 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

why was there a 0.5 camera shot of cady during revenge party 💀

“I’d Rather Be Me” was so much fun and I felt so fucking empowered. And the transition from the song to the bus was just *chef’s kiss*

“donut worry i am still your freend” 🥺

Lindsay Lohan cameo!!!!!!!!!

NOT ENOUGH RENEÉ RAPP 😭😭

Overall, the movie was not perfect, but the Broadway show already had plenty of flaws, so it’s understandably how that would affect the adaptation. I still a LOT of fun and would definitely see it again. Go stream Snow Angel by Reneé Rapp. i love women 🥰🥰🥰

[itsss4t4n]

How long is Forever? - Harry Hook x daughter of alice in wonderland

Headcanons but the longer version of this post:

a/n: this is based more on tim burtons aiw adaptation as it is the only one that i know, and i might have misremembered some of the story/ characters so i apologize if its inaccurate to wonderland or its characters in any way. I got way to invested in creating the character and story and almost forgot that that wasnt the point. At some point i think the character just completely changes and i low key hate it. Im really bad at writing headcannons instead of full fledged fics.

Trigger warnings: fighting, she /her pronouns used, slight angst toward the end but happy ending, not proofread

-being alices daughter you are considered kind of weird by the aks, (think luna lovegood), you are kind of dreamy and constantly in your own thoughts but you still have a very strong own opinion on everything. You say what you think even if others might not like that. 

-You also have a very different sense of style than most girls in auradon. You played alot with different colours and textures always looking slightly crazy (you took inspiration from your godfather, the mad hatter). Your blonde hair was cut to a short messy bob with short bangs, and always changing coloured streaks throughout.

-you dont have the same view of good and bad as most others , and you dont think the vks should be judged by what their parents did and immediately try to befriend them and continuesly defend them

-when mal runs away to the isle you insist on joining the other vks and ben, as you do well in new and different invironments and later because you are an incredible sword fighter, your mother having thought you all she knows, just in case you ever needed to fight a jabberwookie type beast yourself.

-Due to your personal style not being very auradon, you didnt really have to disguise as much as ben when going to the isle. 

-On the isle you felt surprisingly comfortable, as you liked the weird and almost liminal athmosphere that it had 

-the first time you met harry was right after bens kidnapping, when harry came to tell you all about it.

-Harry has this theatrical almost a little eccentric way of talking and moving, which intruiged you pretty quickly. Of course , You didnt like or trust him, he did just kidnap one of your best friends, but you were intruiged non the less.

"And who is this little lassy?"

You told him your name with a glint of interest and mischif in your eyes. "Daughter of Alice in Wonderland."

"How interesting."

"I was just thinking the same thing. Whats your Name?"

"Harry Hook." He introduced himself with adramatic bow, before making fun of jay and barking at carlos.

- The other three had watched the interaction in confusion and wonder. They knew you were a little odd but seeming this confortable with harry after knowing what he did to ben?

"What was that?!" 

"What?" 

"Dont be nice to hook! He just kidnapped your best friend!"

"yea.. But he is quite interesting." And as an afterthougt: "and kind of pretty dont you think?"

"NO! Concentrate please. He is the enemie alright?!"

"Yea whatever, lets go tell mal about this shit."

-You go with Mal and evie to see dizzy, and instantly get along.

-Later while Mal and Uma are talking (singing), you cant help your eyes from glancing over at harry every few seconds. He did look good, with his red coat, the old silver jook on his left hand, and the messy black eyeshadow around his striking blue eyes.

"He is really beutiful dont you think?" That question was mostly directed towards evie who just shot you a dissapproving look. "I'm just saying. purely aesthetically."

-You simply shrugged and watched the situation continue to unfold, swordhand on the hilt of your sword at your side. When the fight breaks out you stand against harry. For better of for forse.

"Hello Pretty boy." You raise you swordand get into a defensive position.

"Wonderland girl."

-You kept making little comments about his looks and his sword fighting which he of course returned in his own flirty way. You quite enjoyed going back and forth like that. Witty comments, smirks and flirty smiles, and fighting more for show at this point instead of actually trying to beat each other. Trying to make this surprisingly pleasant moment last as long as possible.

-until you heard an urgend shout of your name from Mal.

"Sorry in advance." In a quick movement you snatched harrys hook and threw it down into the water. Before a shoked Harry can jump after it you catch his arm and talk to him in a slightly hushed voice.

"I really hope this wasnt our last meeting pretty boy." Before running off with the others.

-You dont see each other again until Audrey turns evil, but you do still think about harry. Is it stupid considering you met like twice and he was you enemy? Yea. Did you care? not really. He was georgeous, funny, good with a sword. Your dream guy. Except for the fact that he was supposedly your enemy. but then again when had you ever cared about that kinda stuff.

-His black lined blue piercing eyes were burned into your brain.

-In the six months until you saw him again you had become mal and bens unofficial bodyguard, spening most of your time with them or with evie, your sword has taken permanent residence at your side, only taking it of to sleep or shower and even then it was always in grabbing distance. Mals paranoia about uma had actually started to get to you.

-You are at evies house when audrey shows up and spells mal. You join them in going back to the isle to retrieve hades ember.

-When your bikes get stolen you cant help but smile at the sight. Yea its shitty but he is still beautiful.

"Pretty boy!"

He drawls you name in his scottish accent and you mentally swoon.

"Thats my bike!"

"Oh yea? Come and get it back then." Before driving of.

-You run after them (except mal and celia ofc),and at one point you split upbecause the boys on the bikes did so. You follow harry and when the others are out of sight he slows to a stop. You catch up to him with a grin.

"Nice to see you again Hook. I was hoping we would meet again."

"I was too Lassie."

-The next 10-ish minutes are filled with flirty banter and tales of what happened in the last six months. It felt like you've known each other for years (as clichee as that sounds). 

-You almost forgot why you were there until you heard jay shouting your name.

"Where are you, Mal got the thing come on."

You quickly turn to Harry again.

"Go! Before they see you and make it a whole thing."

"What bout your bike?"

"Keep it pretty boy, i doubt the others got theirs back so it would be weird if i did."

With a last sly grin harry leans towards you "I will see you again very soon." 

Before you could question what 'very soon' meant, he had already driven of. 

Just in time because Jay and the others turned the corner behind you.

"There you are! What are you doing? come on!"

"Sorry. Was chasing after the bike." You Give them a small smile before walking past them. "You coming?"

-To say you were surprised when harry and gil jumped through the barries after them would be an understatement.

"Pretty boy?!"

"'ello Darling. we're just coming for a wee visit" 

-You tried , just like evie, to get the two groups to work together. Harry mostly walked next to you or Uma. At some point you hung back so he culd walk in between you and doesnt have to kep switching. He caught up with uma but still kept the constant flirts towards you up.

-Everyone was really confused on why you two seemed so good and almost comfortable around each other, not to mention the flirting. Evie was the only one who knew of your little crush so she send you a few knowing smirks.

-During the knight fight you and harry fought as a team. Incedibly well might i say. 

-You were somewhat enthusiastic about evies icebreaker idea, enjoying the idea that the two groups could finally work together.

"Harry great accent."

"Shes right. It is a good accent."

-The flirting just wouldnt stop, comments thrown at each other, bumping shoulders while walking, even brushing your hands against each others on occasion. You had joined the boys in looking for ben.

"To make sure jay and harry dont kill each other."

-Gil doing the icebreaker and bonding with jay. 

meanwhile you and harry in the background:

"We should do that icebreaker pretty boy."

"oh yea?"

"Yea. You've got really pretty eyes."

"And you are really good with a sword lass." His hook just slightly gracing your cheek before something in gil and jays conversation sparks his interest.

-When finding ben you had immediately pushed harry behind you and unsheathed your sword out of instinct. Jay has to pull both of you out of bens way because both of you got distrcated by how close you were standing to each other. After making sure ben was alright you made sure harry was too.

(instead of flirting with jane he flirts with you)

"Well well well, thank you for trying to protect me there darling." The hook was under you chin this time.

"No problem pretty boy." You smirk back.

Ben had his little freak out. Jay and carlos had one too for slightly different reasons.

"when did this happen? you and hook?"

You just shrugged and started walking off.

The boys just looked at eachother thouroghly confused.

-After everyone reuniting and you secretely updating evie on the harry situation you all made your way to fairy cottage. When you found chad you had to half hide in harrys shoulder to hide your laughter because god was it good to see chad taken down a few pecks like that.

-Then Mal dropped the bomb. Closing the barrier forever. You couldnt believe it. You were always a firm believer in the vk programm. And you had honestly hoped that even if harry etc were send back, they would get out someday, or you might go visit them. You considered them freinds at that point. But now that wasnt possible.  You tried to comfort harry and uma in some way but it was to no avail.

"Im so sorry you guys... I didnt know." You had tears in your eyes yourself.

"Dont worry about it Darling. Its nae your fault." Placing his hand, his actual hand, on your cheek for a second, to wipe away the tear that had fallen. Before he walked of with uma.

"Harry....."

Mal was shocked to see your tears at the fact that harry was leaving. she had absolutely no idea this was a thing. It wasnt really. you didnt have enough time for it to actually become a thing. You watched harry and uma leave before evie walked up to you to hug you. 

She talked to mal but you didnt want to listen.

suddenly there was a bright light before it went dark for a bit. When you came to again, Mal was gone. It didnt take you guys long to piece together what must have happened. so you went to find mal.

-You and harry were both incredibly relieved to see that the other was okay. *cue big hug and an almost kiss that turned into a kind of awkward cheek kiss before another hug * 

-Harry announcing that he is actually going back to the isle felt like another punch in the gut. Again that sounds dumb considereing how little you actually knew each other but you didnt care. 

-Harry and you talked before he left. He gave you one of his rings "so you wont forget me darling". So you give him one of yours "then dont you forget me either". *cue more crying and hugs, between all of you *

-Mal announcing that the barrier will be taken down during the engagement party was the best thing that couldve happened to you at that point.

"Looks like you get a chance with your pretty boy after all." Evie.

Uma to harry on the isle: "Now you can get your pretty girl, pretty boy." While bumbing his shoulder.

As soon as you could spot eachother on the bridge you ran into each others arms.

-Kith

-like a lot of em

-Your friends from both sides were incredibly happy for both of you.

[tinydefector]

I was just interested if you were a suckered for the clothing and fabric and perfume trope as I am. In the sense where fabrics and a abundance of organic flora was considered more common for higher class cybertronains but that even then it was pretty scarce. Imagine a bot or con after getting over their fears or mild disgust of the squishness of humans so to speak the next few things they notice is how many types of hair there are. How many styles and how many different ways to dye said hair. It drives them nuts the feel such softer fibers all together to make a more denser form. Curled,staight,wavy it all catches their optics. Painted nails almost similar to paint for their frames. Tattoos so intriguing. A human willingly damaging their surface that is more fragile than their metallic frames. It's a living scar. And they can't help but slowly come to love it to when they see how much their human complain does. But fabric? God they almost get drunk off of it. When they get a hug they shiver at the smooth article that brushes on their frame. The variety. So many styles and colors. So many meaning behind patterns and techniques. They can't help but almost grow jealous hearing how far back a simple stich can come from in human history. Humanity dressing itself in plush silks and flimsy polyester but it's all gold compared to what the cybertronains have come to crave. Imagine them having made themselves smaller so they could be inside your living space and they can't help but notice all the fabrics. All the plush surfaces. Their in heaven fully convinced they're going to meet the great primes. And if you had a scented burning candle? Sweet or citrus they can't help but want to inhale deeply to capture the scent. Perfumes? God their drunk whenever a human walks into a enclosed space because all mechs and femmes are fighting themselves to not snatch you up and keep you. If you use scented body wash or scented lotion then can practically taste it on your skin if you are near or hug them. They crave it when it's late at night and they've got you sobbing and thighs shaking as they kiss and lap at your scented thighs. And if theirs multiple humans in a space? That almost has a bot slurring their words as iff they just had the best energon. Just some thoughts haha I'm very sorry it's so long. I'm just a suckered for all these headcanons and just how while they may be disgusted and have hatred for humanity some fo them can't help but swoon for so many qualitys of their human companions that are nothing like their skin. So soft and complaint and so very warm at heart.

So I do have some fics on this stuff one is

Ratchet x reader. Involving perfumes effecting cybertronians like a sex potion or sex pollen.

Then I have

Starscream x reader. Involving the infamous dress and him testing out different outfits on his partner.

This small collection of bots reacting to nipple piercings (was like my first fic I ever wrote here)

_________________

I am quite a sucker for the clothing and fabric and perfume trope. I really enjoy writing cybertronians who adore seeing their partner drapped in shimmering fabrics. Becuase to the human its could just be a satin sheet, but to the cybertronian it is luxury, it showcases so much about you and every chance they get they love getting to just feel or touch the fabrics.

Imagine: your cybertronian is sat on theirs berth which is a mix of almost foam matting(yoga mat/ expanding foam) They don't lay on just metal but it's not particularly comfortable for their human. So one day, they introduced them to memory foam, and its like the bots world has opened up. It becomes a soft, comfortable recharge. But as you start bringing sheets, blankets, and your pillows, it makes the bots feel as if they are falling in love. They love it when you drape the soft fabric over them and make yourself almost a next on their chassis with the soft bedding. To they it feels like a luxury that you are pampering them even if it's just to make yourself more comfortable. It's the fact you leave them in their suite on their berth take makes their spark clench in delight knowing you'll be coming back.

I also tend to write cybertronains have alot more nasal sensors and detectors to the point they can break down the partials to annalise them. The smell of fresh lining is something that effects them almost like catnip with a cat. They will roll around in the fabric optics wide. Engines roaring in delight. As their joints squeak and clank against the walls.

I also love writing that Fabric was something that only the Highest of society had on cybertron, but mainly due to have small the fibers are it is extremely hard for cybertronains to replicate the material, so it fetched for high prices when Imported from organic planets. If you were of the lower classes, you would be lucky if you had a tarp or some sort of soft plastic as it was also still very sort after. So you can imagine how the cybertronains reacted once on earth, even while undercover. Fabric is such a huge part of human culture that cybertronians, when they find even just a pretty scrap of Fabric, keep it as a token. As if to say "frag you" to the universe.

But I can also see a human finding the stash of Fabric cut off's and offering to sew them all together in an almost patchwork like blanket for their bot and you can bet your ass you will have that cybertronian on thier knees worshipping you for it.

______

"Hey, we have hail forecasted," their voice calls out to the vehicle parked in the driveway. The cybertronian is rather quiet as they register what was said to them. "It isn't acid rain, so it won't be anything too bad." they try to argue only to have a large old blanket thrown over them. "Hey, what are you doing?" It sends shock throught their system having something so soft drapped over their frame.

"I'm covering you up so you don't get hail damage, I sadly can't get you into the garage at the moment so the next best thing I can do is cover you up with some blankets and a tarp so you don't get damaged by ice falling out of the sky" they explain as they throw another over the vehicle. Making sure to fully cover the bot before throwing a waterproof tarp over them, too. "Sorry, I don't have anything better than this, but it will keep you dry and our of harm's way." Those words hit their spark in a way they never would have thought it would. They are left almost speechless, cosy, and somewhat warm as the hailstorm rolls in.

________________

When it comes to hair colour, skin colour, and tattoos. It fascinates them so much to see such diversity and colour on a species they originally believed to be quite dull. It gets to the point when making their holoform avatars they love exploring and expressing themselves as if making a sims character. Even going as far as some get custom paint jobs of the tattoos, they get on their avatars because, for them, it's the closest thing they can have to tattoos. But think about you getting a tattoo in a shop right across from where your cybertronian partner is getting their paint job because it was a cute couples day out.

And don't get me started on how much cybertronians love human's hair. The fibers are so different to them and they love the feeling of it, they just have to be very careful when running a digit theought thier lovers hair as to not get it jammed in the joints causing you pain.

Another thing that cybertronians are fascinated by is humans' willingness to injure themselves in the name of beauty. From tattoos, piercings, injections, and surgery. In honesty, it's not that different from frame ulteration, but they don't know how a human can do it. The bots can turn their pain sensors off while humans are just soldier on through it.

I love the idea that the bots also horde car freshners that their humans get them. It becomes a full-on pokemon card situation of them trading double ups, begging their partner to get them others so they can rub it in their friends' faces. But air freshners weren't a thing until Earth, and the bots love how it makes their frame smell different from the oil, grease, and car smell.

But perfumes gods I love the idea that perfumes have a certain chemical reaction to Cybertronian systems to the point to turns them into a raging horny bot who can't get enough of how your skin taste and how desperately they try to literally lick the perfume off your skin as if it were the riches and most expensive high grade energex on the market. It also leads to a lot of personal working with the bots not being allowed to wear perfume/cologne. Deodorants don't affect them the same way, but they also enjoy how they smell quite a bit.

But yes I love the idea of perfumes pretty much working like a pheromone spray and don't get me started on actual pheromones spray, your not leaving that bots berth for atleast 3 days, they will bring you food, water and anything you want but it literally overrides their system protocol and makes them desperate to breed you.

In conclusion, DO NOT wear perfume or Pheromone spray near the bots unless you don't intend to be leaving the berth for at least 3 days if not more becyase they can and will keep you their.

________________

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[astermath]

“So? Whatever.”

pairing: dave lizewski x popular!fem!reader 

summary: The preppy girl that just about everyone admires has more in common with Dave than he expects. He doesn’t quite know how to handle this information, but it excites him nonetheless.

word count: 2K

♡ LANDING PAGE♡

notes: I haven’t written something like this in a good while, so please bear with me if I’m rusty or there are some mistakes here and there. Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, I tried to be as non descriptive as possible about her appearance. I do love writing a bit of a mean reader like this, but don’t worry, she’ll warm up to him. This fic takes place in senior year for age purposes, I’m pretty much fully ignoring the timeline of the film. Comments and/or requests are super welcome btw!! Hope you enjoy!! <3

(ps this will get a part two don’t worry xx)

To Dave, girls like you were unreachable. You could hear about them, you could listen to them talk in the hallways, sneak a glance their way… But talk to them? Any single one of their group would consider that social suicide. The only reason any of them even looked in his direction was to ask him to do their homework. So why in god’s name were you at his locker? Why were you acknowledging his existence at all?

“What’s that?” You leaned against the locker next to his, pointing at the piece of a comic book panel he’d taped to the door. It pictured Spider-man putting on his mask for the first time, something Dave looked to when he needed some motivation for the day. 

He struggled to get basically any words out, still not fully registering that you’re within such close range. He could smell you… God that was really weird to think about, he felt like a creep already, but you just… Smelled really nice. Like vanilla, mixed with something sweet. He realized he hadn’t answered your question yet and was just staring in front of him like a weirdo. “O-Oh, yeah, that’s uh… That’s Spider-man. It’s this… This superhero I like.” He adjusted the strap of his backpack to keep his hands busy.

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Duh, I know who Spider-man is, please.” You couldn’t help but think he was doing anything to avoid looking into your eyes, as if you’d turn him to stone if he dared to do so. Which, yes, was exactly how he felt.

“I wanted to know which comic that was from. The art style looks a lot different than the ones I’ve seen.” Now this part was pretty much making his teenage brain short circuit. He probably didn’t hear that right, there’s no way a popular girl like you read comics, right? This had to be some kind of elaborate joke, like you were trying to pull a prank on him by making him ramble about his favorite superheroes. However, he wasn’t close minded. Even if this was a prank, at least you were talking to him, right?

“Yeah, sorry, I uh… Forget he’s a pretty popular character sometimes. This one’s from a collector’s edition. One of the pages was kinda falling apart so I just… Taped my favorite panel to my locker.” Again, he tried to look anywhere else, but it felt rude not to be making eye contact with the person who’s trying to give you a chance at a conversation. His eyes met yours and he realised he hadn’t ever actually seen you up close like this. You were really pretty, he knew that, but he never noticed these particular things about you before. The way your hair framed your features so nicely, the little beauty mark that seemed to be somehow perfectly placed, or the way a dimple appeared on your right cheek when you smiled.

“Hopefully you didn’t pay too much for it, those things cost like, a fortune.” You followed, snapping him out of his haze as you twirled a piece of hair between your index and middle finger. Dave was much taller than you, so you had to look up to match his gaze, which was already hard since he kept avoiding your eyes. You never realized how much he’d matured since freshman year. He looked pretty cute… Really cute, actually. 

“S-So, uhm, I really don‘t wanna be rude, but…” He closed his locker before looking at you with a rather awkward expression. “Why are you here? Why are you… talking to me?” Honestly, not an unjustified question. Dave was often the subject of bullying, and the popular girls clique made no exception to that rule. He doesn’t remember you specifically doing anything, although... He has a vague memory of you being in the car with those jocks when they threw spoiled milk at him.

“What? A girl can’t talk to her fellow classmate? This is a free country, you know.” You pretended to be a little hurt by his assumption that you were probably just here to make fun of him. In all honesty he was still a little dumbfounded by this whole ordeal, and the fact that half the people that passed you were giving you two weird looks really wasn’t helping. “You know I sit behind you in English, right?” He responds by nodding. He is painfully aware of this fact, as your friends had expressed their empathy for you when your seat was assigned behind him, though you honestly didn’t mind. And also the fact that he got a fair share of gossip from you and your best friend always whispering to each other. “Well,” you flipped a bit of hair over your shoulder. “I saw you had a copy of Birth of Venom in your backpack, and I... Wanted to ask if I could borrow it...” You looked to the side, muttering the last part. As much as you tried not to care what people thought, you did have a bit of a reputation that you were stuck to. Liking comics wasn’t for you, you were a cheerleader, you went to parties, you liked shopping. Okay, you secretly liked comics.

Dave looked at you with a puzzled expression. “I-I’m sorry, can you repeat tha--”

“Can I borrow your stupid comic or what?” You interrupted him, clearly looking a bit embarrassed. 

“Oh!” His face was getting hot, this conversation was lasting way longer than he imagined it would. Usually he’d have his face shoved into his locker by now. “U-Uhm, sure! It’s a bit expensive, but... Well, just don’t damage it, please.” He took his backpack off his shoulder and was about to pull it out before you grabbed his arm. 

“Not here you dumbass! Just, like... Ugh, meet me at my car after school’s over, you can hand it to me then.” You were acting like this was some kind of illegal drug deal, but this truly was something important to you. Your dad had already made it very clear that he didn’t want his little girl becoming some kind of tomboy and have her mind run rampant with superhero stories. Especially with this Kickass guy running around...

The bell rang and you silently thanked it for doing so. “Look, I gotta go. White Corvette, by the vending machines.” You walked past him, and a waft of that lovely vanilla scent hit his nose. He damn near melted into the floor when your arm brushed against his. “Later, Lizewksi.”

You leaned against the hood of your car, scrolling on your phone as you waited for the brunette to show up. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that you were just meeting him in secret like this. It’s not like you were embarrassed to be seen with him, or that you didn’t like him, it’s just that liking comics and superheroes was just about the dorkiest thing anyone could be into. Especially with Kickass running around, and, well, kicking ass, people would probably be thinking you’d be into this whole vigilante business yourself. Sure, you thought it was cool that people were doing something about all the crime, but you’d rather die than mess up your hair beating some thug’s ass. 

You noticed someone approaching and noticed that Dave wasn’t alone. With a bit of a disgusted expression, you gestured to his two sidekicks. “I don’t remember inviting the entire geek entourage to come see me. This isn’t some kinda meet and greet, you know.” Todd and Marty seemed, just like Dave before, a little shocked that you were talking to them. 

“S-Sorry, they just uh...” Dave began.

“We didn’t believe him.” Todd followed.

“...believe what?” You questioned, crossing your arms.

“That a chick like you was into comics.” Marty said, before Todd smacked him on the back of the head. “Dude! Don’t say it like that!”

You got a bit flustered, and looked at Dave. “You told them!? What the fuck, Lizewski?”

“I-I’m sorry!” He held up his hands. “They were asking me what we were talking about, and... I panicked.” They were more so insinuating that he was flirting with her, and he didn’t want that rumor going around, in case your jock brother caught wind of that and beat his ass for flirting with his sister.

You sighed, looking down and pinching the bridge of your nose before waving your hand out in a dismissive manner. “It’s... whatever, just leave. Before I change my mind and throw a bitch fit.” His two friends gave him a suggestive look before heading out. “Those two better not snitch or I’ll cut off their shrimps.” He nodded, just a little intimidated by the threat.

He got out his backpack and handed you the comic. “I’m still surprised I uh... I never knew you were into this stuff.” His breath hitched in his throat when your finger brushed over his as you took it from him. You flipped through it, keeping your eyes on the pages.

“Yeah, well... There’s a lot you don’t know about me, as much as I’m sure you guys love to assume.” You realized you hadn’t even told him your name, so you looked up at him and held out your hand, introducing yourself. You know, out of courtesy. 

“I-I know your name, but uhm... I’m Dave.” Your hand felt so soft, your beautifully manicured fingers being a real juxtaposition to his. His hand was much bigger and rougher than yours. You wondered why his hand was so calloused anyways... He didn’t look like he did many sports.

“Wait... Your name isn’t Lizewski?” You chuckled. “Christ, my bad... I always thought that was just your first name.” Your feeling of guilt for the boy before you flared up a bit again. He was being really nice to you, offering you something personal of his that he probably spent a pretty penny on. And you didn’t even know his actual name before. No wonder some people thought you were a bit of a bitch, you thought to yourself. 

“Hey, uhm... I know you got a bunch of these, and my dad would kill me if he knew I was reading them. He hates vigilantes, and he thinks reading comics will get me into the whole thing. Stupid, I know, but... He takes it surprisingly seriously.” You put the comic away carefully. “So I have a proposition for you.”

His eyebrows rose a little. A proposition, alright. No big deal. Could be literally anything though. 

“Come to my house this Saturday, bring a bunch of these, and I’ll tell my dad you’re coming to tutor me for physics or something.” You tilted your head a little, your locks falling gently over your shoulders. “I’ll pay you. Money’s not a problem. It’ll be like I’m renting them from you.”

He thought for a second, but in all honesty... How was this not a total win/win situation? He got to be in a pretty girl’s room, read comics with her, talk about them and make money. What kind of idiot would say no to that? “Yeah! Sounds good to me, uh... What do you want me to...” His words trailed off as you pulled out a pen and reached for his hand, writing a string of numbers on the back of it. 

“I’ll text you the address, and which series I like. I’ll let you do the picking. Oh, and Dave?”

“Y-Yeah?” He felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. This is the closest you’ve ever stood to him. 

Your grip on his hand tightens, and you look up at him with a death stare. “Not a word to anyone about this.” You followed with a cutesy smile. “Alrighty?” You let go of his hand and put your stuff away before pulling out your car keys. 

Dave stands frozen in place, a faint blush already spread across his cheeks. He swore you were going to be the death of him. He looked down for a second and realized that what you wrote down wasn’t just some random numbers. It was your phone number. It all just suddenly felt very real to him, he’d never gotten a girl’s number before. And you were just about the last person he’d expect it from too.

You got in your car and turned on your engine. “See ya on Saturday, Lizewski! Don’t be late or I’ll kill you!” You smile, before driving off at a totally normal and acceptable speed. 

He gave a nervous wave before he looked back down at his hand. There was a little heart scribbled behind the phone number. It probably meant nothing.

But boy did it make his heart flutter.