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writing-mlm · 7 months ago

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Hiii, can we please have more college!damian x male reader? Like a scenario where damian loves to draw reader but reader doesn't know this? Maybe friends to lovers? Idk your pick. The artist and his muse type of thing. Also, i LIVE for soft damian on this blog ong.

Forever my Muse

Summary: Damian has his finals coming up and he wants you to join-- at least that's his excuse to get you into the art venue. An artist needs their muse and for some reason, most of Damian's drawings include you in, naturally, he could fill museums with drawings of you. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male reader WC: 5.8k

Dust-covered fingers were always something you had associated with Damian. Graphite, charcoal, pastels— anything he used to draw or even paint would inevitably stain his hands. It wasn’t intentional, and neither were the fingerprints he left on your stuff, or the paint you could never remove from your favorite sweater, but that didn’t stop him from apologizing. From buying you cleaning products and a new sweater; never mind it has never been worn in the year you’ve had it, Damian felt terribly sorry whenever he felt he’d stained something of yours.

But never sorry enough to show you his drawings.

You’d ask, you’d beg, but he would never give in. He’d show you when he was done, sure. You’d see the finished still-life drawings of whatever object had been in the line of sight, the paintings he’d done of his pets whenever he missed them, and the random sketches he did to loosen his wrist. But, damn, sometimes you wanted to see an unfinished drawing that wasn’t a warm-up.

Even now, as the two of you are on the campus bus heading towards the music hall, he’s drawing. Sitting across from you on the bus, Damian easily adjusts himself to the movements of the bus as it jerks to a stop. He’s nice like that, you’ve never caught him off guard, he’s never fallen or stumbled in the time you’ve known him.

Studying him, you wonder if he’s naturally so agile. You’ve seen him in your dorm's gym, during all-nighters you can sometimes see him running around campus, and once you had caught him doing one of those athletic challenges for some guy's video. He won. Of course.

The bus comes to a complete stop and you look away, double-checking that it wasn’t your stop. It wasn’t. You knew that. But still. The need to check was far too great and you slipped back into a conversation with Damian. Only this time, you’re looking down at your phone to double-check the event and his eyes switch from staring at his sketch to staring at you.

His eyes flicker between you and his drawing, erasing and adding lines where needed. He catches your eyes traveling up and he looks back down, working from memory as you start up a new conversation.

Eventually, the bus reaches your stop and he carefully closes his book; he always worries he’d smudge his art, while he follows you out of the bus.

It’s the end of the semester, ergo, it’s finals week. And for one of your music finals, everyone was to prepare a song and perform it. Truthfully, Damian doesn’t understand why you’d picked him to accompany you. He knows he’s not the best comfort, his demeanor often being the reason people don’t stick around too long.

But, you reassured him. Telling him that his presence was more than enough for you. Knowing that he was somewhere in the crowd calms you down more than you ever cared to admit.

The walk to the music hall isn’t short, but you can see the large building in the distance. The size is daunting on you as you see the crowd forming at the entrance. People aren’t allowed inside yet, but performers and their guests can head inside before anyone else.

“I’m nervous,” You admit, wiping your hands on your shirt. “What if I fail?” You mutter, your eyes desperately searching to find solace in his green eyes.

“You’ll do as you’ve always done,” He nods, looking ahead as you approach the building. “Exceptionally.” His sketchbook bumps against your folder of sheet music and you sigh through your nose, trying to calm down.

“I’m so gonna choke,” Seeing your reflection in the glass, you feel as if you’d forgotten everything you learned. Every lesson, every mistake you fixed and learned from, the late-night practice performances with your friends. The song you’d composed nearly slips from your mind as you see yourself, walking in that suit and tie you’d worn several years ago. All of it left your mind and you felt like a beginner again. What even was a solfège?

“I'm trained in CPR.” He opens the door for you and gently encourages you inside, his fingers grazing your back. “You weren’t nearly as nervous for your accounting finals.” He notes, falling back into step with you.

That’s another thing. Maybe that’s why you were so stressed. Double majoring was hellish. Twice the finals, quadruple the headaches.

“Those were tests,” You scowl, showing the security your campus ID. “I’m going to be performing a live concert in front of nearly a thousand people. I cannot fuck this up, Damian. This is going to be posted for everyone to watch, too,” You ramble on.

“Which you’ve done before, no?” He presses the elevator button and your heart hammers. You swear you’re going to pass out. He notices, of course, he does, and digs in his bag to find the fidget cube he keeps in there.

“I have— thank you,” Taking the cube, he nods. “It’s just… I don’t know. Tests suck.” Rolling your thumb along the metal ball on one side of the cube, you stare at the numbers as they slowly tick down to the first floor.

“That’s true,” He steps inside the elevator and you follow suit. “But you’ve made it thus far, you can go further.” He squeezes your shoulder as the doors close. There’s a silence in the elevator as it goes up to the second floor where you see your teacher waiting at the door to the waiting room, talking to a pair of students.

“I can,” You affirm, dipping your head down as you smile.

“You will.”

—

You’re fifth in line to perform, watching a singer, dancer, another other pianist, and an opera singer go on before you go on did absolutely jack shit to help you. As you’re announced, you step onto the stage and try your best not to accept that there were thousands of eyes on you. Instead, you smile and wave as you walk across that large stage. Desperately looking for Damian in the sea of people.

He’s in the front, right in front of where you could see when you glance up from the piano, you find out as you’re standing next to the piano seat.

Damian’s eyes don’t leave yours, making eye contact with you as you fiddle with the buttons of your coat. He motions for you to stop and then does a breathe in breathe out motion with the same hand. Nodding, you blink away from him and hold your hands behind your back. Focusing on your breathing, you listen to the teacher as you’re done being introduced.

The applause settles as you bow in, take a seat, and flip the page where your music sheet is. Slowly, you start. As a general music major, you weren’t restricted to just playing the piano. As emphasized by the microphone taped to your cheek.

You aren’t the strongest singer by any means, you’re good for singing in the shower or on drives but you doubt you’d actually make a career off of your voice. What you hope will carry you is the piano, as you press each key your eyes flicker to Damian. He’s attentive, a smile on his face as you perform.

Testing the waters, you glance at the people around him and they seem… pleased. Happy. Moved, even. You grin and return to staring at the sheet music. All of the notes flood back to you as you reach the last bit of the song, your eyes closing as your voice reaches a peak, holding a note. Then it’s just the piano, your voice echoing in everyone’s mind as the notes get slower and slower until you end it.

Applause fills the hall and you stand up, taking a bow. Standing there, even if only for a moment, you can’t imagine why you’d been so nervous.

Collecting your sheet music, you exit the stage and hand the mic to the stage tech before leaving.

When you’re nearing the exit, you spot Damian holding a bouquet of flowers.

“When did you have the time to get these?” You laugh as he hands them to you. His eyes merely twinkle, refusing to give up one of his many secrets. “Thank you, they’re dope.”

“You did it,” Damian reminds you as the two of you exit the building.

“I did! Ugh!” Grabbing his shoulder with your free hand, you give him a little shake. “Thank you so much, you’re honestly the best. Was it good?” Falling into step with him, Damian doesn’t bother to fix his shirt. It’s hardly even moved, but you know he was detail-oriented in stuff like that. Hell, he hates it when he messes with his clothes.

“It was mesmerizing.” He promises. “I do believe the woman behind me was crying.” Grinning, you stand at the bus stop, suddenly buzzing with excitement. Wanting to do it again, you start to imagine creating your own side business. Wedding musician, you can see it now.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” He avoids looking at you as he’s speaking. A rare occurrence on his part. But he does his best to look at you after building the courage. “I have an art showing next week. I understand the notice is short and you’re—“

“Send me the details.” You grin. His shoulders drop and he nods, clearly more relaxed. “I hope the attire is fancy. I got this fancy turtleneck I’ve been wanting to wear and slacks from my high school graduation just waiting to be worn!”

—

With all of your finals out of the way, you finally had time to start removing the items from your dorm. One by one you removed posters and trinkets scattered across your end of the room. Pack your clothes into boxes, and save for enough outfits to get you through your two weeks left on campus.

Damian was held up from finishing his art showing, unable to see you in person but he was more than happy with a Facetime call. With both your laptops placed in a space away from disturbing you, the two of you worked on your tasks.

“I do need to be at the showing two hours early,” He tells you as you’re dragging the anti-suicide chairs to the closet, trying to see the top shelf. “But I’ll have arrangements to bring you to the venue.”

“And my outfit is okay?” You ask, the chair wobbling as you stand on it. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. But hey, you’re not the one who installed a closet tall enough that only Shaq could see the top. “Because I can always swap out the turtle neck for a green button down— the silk one that Maddison made,” Always gave a fashion designer friend. She had used you as a model for of her projects a couple of months ago and with your measurements being unique to you, let you have it after she’d gotten her grade.

“The button-down would be better suited,” He nods, leaning close to his painting before adding a tiny stroke. “The turtleneck is a little… on the nose.” Leaning back, he checks his reference picture before frowning. It goes away quickly as he picks up a bit of white and dabs it onto a dry brush.

“I was afraid it was,” You laugh, grabbing a first aid kit from the shelf. Listening to him lightly brush the paint over the canvas, you toss the kit onto the bed and grab what little items are scattered up there. “Holy shit! Do you remember when that frat dude lost his frat ring?”

“Unfortunately,” Damian glances at his screen, watching as you haphazardly get down from the chair. Nearly tripping, he wonders how you've made it this far in life without breaking a bone.

“I think I did take it! Look!” Showing the screen, Damian looks almost impressed as you hold up a fraternity ring. It’s a shiny gold, likely fake but engraved with the initials of the Frat house. The two of you remember the guy had been going around to every single campus building with a missing ring poster.

“What a thief,” He chides, setting his brush down and taking a physical step back from the painting. Harsh glares scan over brush strokes, ripping apart his painting bit by bit before he nods to himself. His glare morphs into a soft sort of gaze and he signs the back of it.

“Is that your final painting for the semester?” You ask, the ring forgotten about as it’s tossed in a box of trinkets and you’ve moved on to ordering food. Probably Panda Express. Or maybe Chipotle…. really it’s whatever is closer and cheaper.

“Hopefully,” He sighs through his nose, his paint box clicking shut. “I’ve been drawing and painting these past couple of days. My canvases take up an entire section of the art studio. I’m sure my professor cannot wait for them to dry and get glossed. Which I should probably start doing.”

“How does that taste?” Setting your phone down, Damian’s face goes sour as he looks at you. “Personally, I think the gloss would taste tarty.” You add. “Or maybe like the frosting for Toaster Strudel.” Picking your phone back up, you continue your order.

“Neither is correct.” He blinks. “It’s a toxin and filled with chemicals, it most likely tastes as good as acetone does, Hab—“ He pauses, and you look at him wondering what the issue is. “Habits of tasting chemicals shouldn’t be one you pick up.” He finishes his sentence with a bit of force.

“I just love chemicals. Violin resin is my favorite.” Making a chomping noise Damian huffs. As you’re finishing up your order, you look at him. He’s halfway across campus and judging by the rack of canvases he wheeled over, he won’t be back until well into the night. Eh, it doesn’t hurt to ask. “I’m ordering some food, do you want something?”

“No, thank you, though.” He shakes his head. “I have food from the court in case I get hungry.” He quickly adds. Humming, you place the order and scan over your room. The only things that need to get packed are things you’re still using. Now it’s just a matter of organizing the boxes and bins so you can still move around your room.

“After the glossing, what’re you doing?”

“I have to write short summaries for each painting. No less than one hundred words,” He explains as he’s putting on a pair of latex gloves.

“So, a breeze?” He laughs and nods.

“I’m afraid I’ll go over the word limit,” He admits, sparing you a glance as you’re lugging a box to a corner of your room. “My paintings harbor a lot of my emotions and they’re far from short.”

“Real as fuck.”

—

On the day of his art exhibition, you spend extra time in the bathroom. Making sure your hair is neat, and presentable, fixing your outfit, making sure you don’t stink. Anything and everything you could check over, you did.

This nervous feeling was different from your pre-show nerves. Especially since you don’t even know why you’re nervous. Probably because you’d never actually gotten to see his paintings, at least the ones he was showing. He’d been ultra allusive about those, citing the exhibition would be the best place to view them. But even he was nervous and that’s a lot considering he’s Damian fucking Wayne.

He texted you two minutes ago saying that the car was going to arrive within the next ten minutes and you rushed out to the front of the dorms. No need to lock the door behind you, since your roommate was busy sleeping and would stay in there until you came back. Plucking at your shirt, you watch a sleek black car pull up in front of you, and Damian texts you that the car is there.

The ride is long, far too long for your liking anyway. But considering it’s in the middle of the city, it’s not unwarranted.

The art… museum? What should you call it? The space where the exhibition was being held was a well-known art gallery— that’s the word! The gallery was well respected, talked about within art circles, and incredibly high-brow. Thank fuck you didn’t go with that turtleneck.

There’s a woman in front of the gallery, greeting everyone who enters. She sees you and there’s a flash of recognition across her face.

“It’s great to finally meet Damian’s muse,” She smiles as she shakes your hand.

“His what?” You ask but Damian pulls you inside.

“How was the ride?” He asks, his eyes darting between his professor and you.

“Good but what did she mean?” You ask, looking around to see the other people around. Like your performance, it was open to the public and with Bruce Wayne’s son being in attendance, many people had showed up. Including his family. “Bruce Wayne is here?” Your head whips to Damian as you spot him in the crowd.

“He is my father…” He trails. “Would you like to meet him?”

“Fuck no!” You gasp. “The knowledge of his wealth is burying me as we speak— but this is about you,” Turning to him, you smile. “Where’s your paintings? Those don’t look like your style,” Eyes flicker across the paintings and you can’t see Damian’s strokes, his colors or his lighting in any of them. A sort of pride swells within him, knowing that you’ve looked— studied his art enough to know that the ones around you weren’t his.

“It has its own section,” He tells you, guiding you through groups of people and halls. “It’s going to be revealed in around half an hour. My professor insisted,” He stops at a section of the gallery covered by a curtain and two security guards. You never knew it was that serious, but damn.

“Mr Fancy. Why don’t you catch up with your family? I’ll look around?” In truth, you were going to the nearest bathroom and making sure you didn't look stupid.

“I’m more than certain they’d be more pleased if you accompanied me.” He shakes his head as you raise your eyebrows. “If that’s something you’d be comfortable with, of course.”

“Sure,” Once more, he guides you past people until he spots his father and brother talking in a corner.

“Father, Richard.” He calls as the two of you approach. “This is (Y/n).” Richard’s lips twitch as he fights back a smile, the smile only furthered curbed by his brother's glare.

“Hello,” Waving at the two men, they reach to shake your hand instead. Bruce has a firm grip, probably tighter than it really needed to be but Richard is more than welcoming. He’s more than excited to meet you, although you can’t imagine why.

“My other siblings are still in Gotham,” Damian explains, physically taking Dick’s hand from yours with a pointed look. “Although I’m surprised you didn’t bring Cassandra, father.”

“She’s here,” He shakes his head, glancing around for the mop of black hair. “In the bathroom, probably.”

“Is that her?” You ask, looking at the woman in the corner. She’s standing there, downing a glass of champagne before returning to a conversation with a man. She looks like how Damian had described her, although he downplayed how intimidating she seemed.

“Oh boy,” Dick huffs. “Let me go help her,” Excusing himself, you’re left with Damian and his father. The two of them talking with their eyes.

“So, Damian’s told me you’re a double major,” Bruce breaks the silence and their weird eye conversation. He talks about you? Glancing at Damian, he’s making a point to look anywhere but you. That’s sorta cute— totally not in a romantic way, totally.

“I am,” You nod, wishing a man with drinks would walk past you. “Accounting and a performing arts major.” He hums and there’s another beat of awkward silence.

“From what he tells me, you’re excelling at both. That’s incredibly hard. Do you have any job prospects lined up for when you graduate?” He asks and you shake your head.

“Not yet,” You admit, picking at your hands. “Since I'm not sure where I’d like to settle after I graduate it’s difficult finding places.” Bruce nods, quickly making sure Dick and Cassandra are okay.

“Well, if your grades continue to stay or improve, Wayne Enterprises is always looking for accountants, especially one so esteemed.” He smiles at you, that sort of small smile that makes you feel more relaxed in his presence. A fatherly smile.

“Yeah, praise from Damian is a lot.” Dick grins, leaning his weight on his younger brother. Cassandra agrees, leaning against the wall Bruce was standing in front of. “And he talks about you a ton!”

“That’s enough.” Damian huffs, pushing himself away from Dick who frowns. “Let’s look at some of the artwork,”

“You talk to your family about me?” You grin as he’s hauling you away from his family. He looks at you, clearly licking the inside of his mouth before he blinks and gives one strong nod.

“Of course I do, it would be a shame to hide someone so talented.” He explains and then looks forward, his eyes swimming across the faces around him. “I do believe in your talents and my father is someone who can help them flourish; it would seem awfully cruel if I didn’t at least try.” You go to speak; to thank him but his attention is pulled away by the director of the show.

“It’s time!” She gleams, ushering the two of you after her.

There are already people gathered in front of his top secret exhibit, cameras and people wearing PRESS lanyards like the front and sides. Much like a moth drawn to a flame, they find Damian walking and try to hound him, only to be stopped by his family. They’re far more intimidating now but Damian pulls your attention from them and towards him.

The two of you are in front of the whole crowd, the two guards holding one piece of the curtain and waiting for a cue to open them.

“We welcome everyone to Damian Wayne’s very first art show,” The director says, her hand ghosting over his shoulder. He takes that as a sign to step forward, barely leaving your side as he explains his art.

“Through My Eyes is a collection of various pieces I’ve created over the course of two years,” He explains. “The music that accompanies the art are pieces composed by my muse.” His eyes find yours as the curtains are pulled aside and for the first time, you notice the way he looks at you. The way his eyes never seem to want to leave yours, how he takes you in the same way he takes in the art around him.

Then you hear it. More specifically you hear yourself.

You hear the piece you’d played during your final, hearing your voice fill the spaces where people aren’t talking. Each key, and each note floods your ears as you turn to see his art.

It’s you.

All of it. Each painting, each frame has something of you in it.

“Holy shit.” You breathe, moving to the closest one. It’s a painting of you, wearing clothes you’d only seen in shows like Merlin, holding onto a statue of an angel. It’s almost impossible to not know where the inspiration had come from. After convincing Damian to go exploring with you and some friends, you’d come across a newly abandoned church with a large angel statue. On a dare, you pretended to dance with it.

Sure, you’d seen the picture before but it was nothing compared to the painting. It looked amazing, you had never looked better. Your features were captured in the best way possible, you’d been posed in a way that made it seem as if you were guiding the angel in a dance.

The description catches your eye next.

One Last Dance wasn’t the first drawing of Muse, but it was the first drawing of him that I truly loved. He’d resparked a passion for painting for me. The painting had been on my mind for two weeks before I finally started to work on it, having it become my only focus for the two days that I worked on it became the norm for the next two years of my life.

Muse doesn’t personally care for the Renaissance era, but it seemed fitting for such a painting. The feeling of dressing Muse in modern clothes didn’t ruin the drawing but it didn’t make sense, in my head their dance is accompanied by the sounds of the wings and their feet gliding across the floor. Just outside is probably a mob, unbelievable of a true angel. Muse would probably say that he was dancing to the sounds of Sleep Token and outside was a bunch of ‘angel fuckers’, but who knows.

D.W

The next painting was smaller than the first, but it’s a close-up of your face. Your eyes are wide and you’re desperately pulling at your eyelids as a light twinkles inside of it.

Blinding Gaze came about when Muse had gone to the eye doctor, fearing he was going blind. Turns out he was just extremely stressed to the point of temporary blindness. When we spoke about it, he joked that he was developing powers from that time he drank a sports drink mixed with a crushed-up Tylenol and he could shoot lasers from his eyes. While Blinding Gaze doesn’t follow his original plan of lasers, I imagine developing eye lights could be frightening.

Blinding Gaze isn’t body horror, although I had intended it to be but I couldn’t bring myself to put Muse into that position. Even if it was completely fake. I did eventually remake the painting how I truly envisioned it, but I still prefer my Muse to the remake.

Drifting to the next painting, you see yourself, dressed in your favorite smudged hoodie, dancing amongst the crowd. The people are drowned out in the colors of the background, nearly blending in meanwhile you’re ever so present. The light shone down on you in a way that made you seem like the main character in some movie, all eyes meant to be on you.

A Night To Remember was undoubtedly one of the best moments of college thus far. Muse had been invited to a friend's party and insisted I come instead of remaining in the art room, drowning myself in oils and pastels. Although I’ve put his words in a more friendly manner. I hadn’t wanted to go, the noises and being pressed against unfamiliar faces was hardly something I ever enjoyed. But for Muse, I’d do anything he’d asked of me.

Glued to him for the night, I found myself unreasonably drawn to him. I do not remember the song, in truth, I don’t remember much from that night aside from him. The way he danced, how he looked at me. How he looked in the room. I resented not bringing my sketchbook, but I would’ve been more out of place than I originally had been.

Smoothening your shirt, you take a nervous glance around you. You’re unsure about how you feel, it’s a lot. You’ve never truly thought about Damian in such a light before, at least not to your knowledge. Sure, you’ve written compositions about him and sure, if you read between the lines in some songs they’re definitely about him. You and Him.

Perhaps, without realizing it, you had made him your muse just as he had made you his.

“I want you to see this one,” Damian says as he walks up behind you, finally free of people asking him questions. The music loops as he does and you count that there’s five songs on the set playlist. Each and every song was one you had created. Your song from the previous week plays again as you stare at him, smiling.

“I’m your muse?” You softly ask, unable to remove yourself from the spot until you have gotten your words out. Damian dips his head down for a moment and wipes his nose. “You’re nervous,” The small tease makes his eyes roll and he clears his throat, the red settling from his tanned ears.

“I want you to see this one,” He repeats and grabs your hand, gently guiding you past the people surrounding the room. They look at the two of you, watching as you walk up to a large painting in the center of the room. Clearly a last-minute addition but it seemed to be the focus.

“Woah,” Is all you can say when you see the painting of you during your final. It’s painted in the same style as your favorite art era. The romantic era where colors were soft, even if they were dark. The painting itself had you in the center, a sea of people at the bottom and there are several ghostly figures of yourself, dancing across the stage leaving streaks of yourself at the top. The floor of the stage was covered in candles.

“How long did this take you?” You ask, eyes darting between details and finding new ones each time you look.

“Two days,” He shrugs. Slowly, you look at him and he looks back at you, confused. “I couldn’t sleep until I finished the painting. The way you looked during your final.” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “It’s truly beautiful— you’re truly beautiful,” He adds, looking at you.

“When you paint me like that I definitely am,” You laugh, looking back at the painting.

“I only painted you through my lens. Perhaps your eyes aren’t as good as you think they are because the paintings truly do not live up to their references. You’re captivating and the way you’ve consumed my thoughts is honestly intoxicating.” His eyes twinkle as you look at each other. You don’t know what to say, honestly. You can stroke your ego a little, you could crack a joke, or you could bear yourself completely to him. But definitely not in a room filled with people.

“Ah,” Dick breaks the silence. “You know he used to be a junior poet?” Grumbling, Damian looks over at Richard as he’s staring at the painting, sipping sparkling champagne from a flute glass while holding a cracker with cheese and jelly. Gross. Probably, you’ve never had it before.

“I do believe I asked for a moment alone,” Damian gives a half-snarky grin and Dick shrugs.

“A whole lotta people here, doubt you’d be alone.” With a sweeping motion, he gestures to the crowd around you. It’s not elbow-to-elbow crowded but you can hear at least seven conversations happening around you.

“I suppose you’re correct,” He nods, following his brother's line of thinking. “Fresh air?” He asks you and you nod.

There’s a park in front of the exhibit and it’s mostly empty, save for two kids and their parents but they’re clearly about to leave. Damian heads towards the benches but you pull him to the swings. There are three but one of them is tossed over the bar and you don’t feel like fixing it.

Sitting with your back to the exhibit, you look over the trees and the playground. The sandpit with someone’s lost doll sitting down, a bucket behind it.

“What did you think?” He spoke up after a minute had passed. The entire time he watched as you gently rocked back and forth on the swings, tempting yourself to actually swing.

“You’re amazingly talented,” You hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “Although, I already knew that. You’re like Michelangelo with everything you pick up.” Glancing at him, you smile when you see his hands. “You still haven’t cleaned the charcoal from your nails.”

“No,” He blinks, his eyes staying closed for a beat longer than a blink. “Not of my skill level, (Y/n). Of the drawings. That you’re Muse.” He looks down at his fingertips and starts to pick at the bits of charcoal. “That you’re my muse.”

Softly you sigh before looking back to the trees.

“What is there to think about? You’re my muse, I'm yours.”

“You’ve written songs about me?” He asks and you sheepishly nod, refusing to look at him. “Which? If you don’t mind me asking,”

“Birds of a feather, I wanna be yours, and Golden hour. There’s more but they’re too embarrassing to admit,” Hearing him take a deep breath, you pick at your fingernails and slowly stop swinging.

“What now?” You ask, finally looking at him. He shrugs and starts to slowly swing. He thinks for a moment before he checks his phone.

“When are you free? I can make reservations to—“

“Applebees or Red Lobster,” You cut him off and he looks at you, confused. “Applebees is once every so often, birthdays or celebrations. But Red Lobster? That’s graduation or date.”

“You could’ve gone for a five-star restaurant, you know that, right?” He laughs and you shrug.

“I heard they’re pretty shit. And I want to fuck up a seafood boil. Oh wait,” Blinking, you try to remember the Red Lobster menu. “Never mind, I don’t think they have vegetarian options. We could do Olive Garden or whatever vegetarian places you like. I’m not picky,”

“And I am?” He teases and you roll your eyes. “Friday, at five. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to Olive Garden. And then to the movies to watch that new horror movie you’ve been wanting to watch.”

“That sounds perfect,” You nod and nudge your swing into his.

“Can I admit something?” He slowly asks. “Forgive me if I’m being too forward but…” Watching as he licks his lip, you stop swinging. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You nod. Trying not to seem too eager, the both of you stand up and you watch as he raises his hands to cup your face. His fingers are warm, gliding across your skin as you hook one arm around his waist while the other holds his shoulder. “Do you want to lead?” You whisper as he looks at you, unmoving. His eyes dart down to your lips and he nods before closing the distance.

His hands drag a little down your face, his pinky curving under your jaw before moving up into your hair. Slowly the kiss breaks and he dips back down for one quick kiss.

“He’s been waiting months to do that,” Dick announces and Damian groans. You snicker and look behind Damian. Dick isn’t even looking, looking off into the distance before he’s sure that you’re done kissing before looking at the two of you.

“Must he ruin everything?” He whispers to you before facing his brother. “I understand you have no concept of privacy, but this warrants that.” Dick frowns at the rudeness before he shrugs and points his thumb towards the venue.

“They’re asking for you, thought I should come and get you before they spot you.” He explains through a sigh. “Would hate for our little demon’s kiss to end up on the front page. But, yeah,” He sighs and looks over at you. He stares at your face for a moment before he chuckles.

“Take him to the bathroom, you got dust on his face.”

“It’s charcoal.”

#x male reader #x reader #damian wayne x male reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #damian al ghul x male reader #damian al ghul x reader

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starry-bi-sky · 10 months ago

Note

Hello Starry! I just had a thought about your Danyal al Ghul AU, and didn't have anyone else to share it with, so here we go:

If in this universe Bruce is Jewish, and Danny knows this(probably from a google search), he may wear a Star of David necklace to have a piece of his father with him at all times, since he knows he will never get to meet him. Or maybe the necklace sits in a box under a floorboard, because he can't stand the constant reminder of the father he'll never get to have. Maybe he observes Sam and her family celebrate Jewish holidays, or he learns how to by himself, but uses the time to mourn, instead of celebrate.

Anyways, hope all is well, and thank you for sharing your writing!

AAHHHH??? YOUR BRAIN??? Thank you!! I love sharing my writing, it soothes my need for attention lol. lmao, even. (Also how did you know i was thinking of my danyal al ghul au today -- i have an unfinished draft that i was thinking of delving into after my work meeting) also aahh!!!!!!!! im so happy that you wanted to share your thoughts with me about it <333

But dude BOTH of these ideas are soo?? GOOD and ANGSTY. I love angsty. Danny would for sure know if Bruce was Jewish, lil guy did an obsessive amount of research on his dad the moment he got his hands on a computer and figured out how they worked. Danny has like, a three inch thick folder almost on his father alone. Anything he could get his hands on, he's got it. That thickness is almost exclusively from his first like, six months in Amity Park. He keeps it in a box in his closet, along with his growing-folder on Damian and his achievements as Damian Wayne. He pages through it when he's feeling like mourning.

First off: him wearing a Star of David necklace to feel connected to Bruce. That is SO sad and I love it so much. He bought it with an allowance he'd been given when he first started living with the Fentons, he keeps it tucked under his shirt so nobody even knows he has it. Sam and Tucker don't until it slips out while he's hanging out with them and when they ask him about it, Danny very reluctantly tells them that his father is Jewish. When he's distracted, nervous, or sad, he fidgets with it. How this looks is that he looks like he's kinda rubbing his chest, like ungrasping and grasping something.

Second Off: him keeping it in a box under the floorboards. That is also so, so good. He's got it in the box along with a few other things that remind him of his father and Damian and his mother. He takes it out when he's feeling particularly lonely and homesick, it's a feeling that never really goes away even after five years of living in Amity Park. It's like a longing for something you'll never see again, but isn't that just how grief works? i can just imagine him sitting against the bed, late at night and back from patrol. He's still in his ghost form, his katana laid on the ground next to him, and his almost bird-like cape pooling down beside him as he cups the necklace in his hand like he's cradling an egg. Maybe he's bleeding from somewhere, and he's telling the necklace about patrol, murmured soft in Arabic.

When he finds out Sam is Jewish he probably, after much consideration, asks if he can observe their holidays -- after all, researching Jewish holidays only does so much. Sam agrees when he explains why, much to her parents chagrin, and he sometimes tags along. But once he gets an understanding of how they go, he starts doing it on his own. Somewhat. He celebrates with Sam for most of it, and then has some time to himself where he celebrates it on his own. So it's a little bit of both.

^^^ which brings me to thinking about my danyal snippet here where Sam is at a Wayne gala and tears into her parents over Danny in front of Bruce. And it's making me think of, with this idea in mind, Sam in a moment of emotional impulsivity, saying "I know that he wears a Star of David because his father is Jewish and he wants to be closer to him, because he loves him so very fucking much." And while saying that, briefly makes direct eye contact with Bruce as a way to tell him "I know you're his fucking dad. Look at the son you have left behind."

If only for the emotional gut punch that can leave Bruce with. 🥰

Thank you for the ask! I had a lot of fun responding to it, have a fantastic evening/day/night.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #danyal al ghul #danyal al ghul au #older brother danny #also courtesy of my good friend the-navistar-carol danyal is very 'paul revere' by noah kahan coded. you should def give it a listen if you #have the time. the lyrics go HARD look: 'but I'm in my car and I see the yard. the patch of grass where we buried the dog and the world-#makes sense behind a chainlink fence. if i could leave i would've already left.' AND 'and when they ask me who i am. i'll say i'm not from #around here.' like absolutely go take a listen if you have the time.#if anyone were to see him while he's talking to the necklace they might see him crying once or twice. but that's not possible.#al ghuls do not cry.

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taesanluv3r · 7 months ago

Text

lost in love songs.

han taesan x reader

a short, three part, friends to lovers story.

ੈ✩‧₊ hidden love unfolds when taesan's ipod nano accidentally ends up in the hands of his best-friend, yn. a certain playlist catches her eyes, revealing the true feelings kept within the depths of the boy's heart.

part three: can't help falling in love.

confessions, first kisses, so much cuteness my heart swells. lowercase intended, excuse any spelling mistakes / grammatical errors! enjoy <3

wc: 4,019

masterlist 𖦹 part one 𖦹 part two

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"i need to talk to you"

taesan couldn't sleep at all, her words just circling around and around in his head all night long. the five letter text message written in big bold letters playing in his mind every single time he so much as even tried to shut his eyes. he lies awake, sighing when his eight o' clock alarm rings through his ears. he was going to confess to her today. he had to. it was the only way he or his friend could get any sort of closure, whether he liked it or not. their meeting time was still in another two hours. the boy grabs his phone, instinctively going to check the messages, her messages.

last active 6.45am

seems she couldn't sleep either, though neither of the friends contacted each other while they were awake. no exchange of words, unlike the way they usually did. taesan's stomach hurts, he's restless and he just can't seem to lie still. he gets off of his bed, walking around his room once, then twice, and then a third time before resorting to sitting on the chair near his desk. with a light tap of his finger, the laptop in front of him turns on, a slight buzzing sound from the gears within the device that began to work. his reflection on the screen disappears when the tabs he had opened the night prior appeared before him. the boy's eyes glimmer slightly at the sight of his music folder, countless of demos and drafts scattered in a somewhat organized manner in the little blue folder. his finger slides against the silver track-pad, the air conditioning right by his desk making the surface cool to touch. taesan bites his lips as he clicks, a collection of his unfinished originals popping up above all the other opened tabs.

the boy sighs again, a hand roughly stroking through his bed-ridden hair as his eyes make contact with two songs in particular. those were the same songs he had downloaded onto his ipod the other day, the one that was now in the hands of his best-friend who he had in his mind throughout the whole writing process. taesan curses at himself, regretting ever even making such stupid songs. but it's all her fault, he thought, if she weren't so...her, maybe he wouldn't keep writing these love songs. he scrolls down in frustration, eyes following his cursor as they go through about a dozen more songs about her. a dozen more songs she didn't need to know about, the songs he once swore she'd never see.

the boy's finger moves up again, back to the very top two tracks in the folder. he let's out a deep breath before pressing down, allowing his own music to flow through the air. an unfinished song,

can't help falling in love.

taesan's eyes shut closed, his back leaning softly against his chair and he immerses himself in the tune. soft piano fills his ears, his eyebrows knitting together when he hears his own voice. just like the other song, this one shared that same honey-like feeling. it was very unlike the usually upbeat and, as his friend would call it, emo sound that he typically produced. for some reason though, it was somewhat more...authentic. like despite his edgy exterior the boy was just born to write these cheesy songs that he swore weren't 'his vibe'. he hums along quietly to the lyrics, not wanting to wake the rest of his family that were very much still asleep at such an hour like this on a saturday morning.

her eyes shine like diamonds, her lips stained pink like rose quartz. she speaks so loud with confidence, yeah i envy her voice like sweets of sorts. and i just can't shake this feeling, and i just don't know what's wrong. when she looks at me i'm melting, elvis was right cause i can't help falling in love.

the sound of the lyrics he wrote himself makes him sick for a second, his eyes opening and his body darting forward to hit pause. the tune abruptly stops, his heavy breathing all too loud when silence engulfs the atmosphere. taesan is tense, the sudden reality of the situation he was in had become too real, too much for his liking. the boy blinks in long intervals, his teeth clawing at his bottom lip and his hands that were pressed atop the table forming fists. the boy loses himself for a moment, his mind overflowing with every possible scenario, every kind of reaction this girl he had been so hung up on could've had to the feelings he poured out into his songs, this girl who was his only friend, this girl he might've of lost forever.

he stops himself from screaming at the top of his lungs, eyes glancing at the number on the top right corner of the screen. only one more hour to go. he decides its finally time to get ready. taesan takes a shower, washing his hair with the olive scented shampoo that his mom had bought for him on a sale the other day. he brushed his teeth, making eye contact with the mirror as he dried his hair. the boy spends the next thirty minutes trying on all of his clothes, almost throwing a tantrum and leaving the room in a mess when nothing seemed to feel right. by 9.35 he had decided on a black band tee, the faded smiley face logo of his favourite band contrasting perfectly with the dark wash of his denim jeans. he stares at himself in his floor-length mirror, his hands fidgeting in the air as he begins to rehearse every way the confession that awaits him with his best-friend could possibly go. the shy boy does this often, he finds it hard to speak with people and it makes him feel better to practice beforehand. however, he's never had to do this with her, she always made it easy for him to talk. so why now? why does he feel so nervous and...scared?

"and i just...i think you're cool and- no, i think you're pretty chill and- pretty chill? ugh! this is so stupid!" he groans, launching himself onto his bed and staring angrily at his ceiling. just then, the familiar notification sound of his phone grabs the boy's attention. taesan stretches an arm out towards it, his eyes lighting up and his body going back into sitting position as he reads the text from the girl who'd been running laps around his mind since last night.

yn meet you at the playground

the boy feels a cluster of butterflies in his lower abdomen, a small smile unconsciously making its way onto his lips at the mere thought of the pretty girl conversing with him.

i'll see you there

he shuts his phone off before she could respond, jumping off of the mattress and stumbling into his black leather shoes, all while simultaneously throwing on his coat and spritzing just enough of his signature perfume. he greets himself one last time in the mirror before he leaves, letting out a breath as he nodded to his reflection, so as to tell himself 'good luck'.

the boy was out the door now, not forgetting to bid his family goodbye leaving them to wonder what he was so jittery about. his feet trots over to the bus stop. the playground was closer to her place, almost an hour away from the boy if he were to get there on foot. his fingers tapped impatiently against the silver railing of the bench, no one else was there because no one else had plans so early on a weekend. five minutes go by and the blue vehicle finally comes to a stop in front of him, the automatic door sliding opened as he stepped into the bus. "where you off to this early on a saturday, kid?" asked the old man who had both hands on the steering wheel. "going to tell her the truth" the man chuckles at the boy's mysterious response, watching from the rear-view mirror as he slumped himself onto one of the seats. taesan watches as the trees go by, his eyes wandering over to the people on walks, the children on their tiny bikes, and the couples sharing a morning cup of coffee. the boy reaches into his pocket in search of his music player, lips pursing into a straight line when he remembers its whereabouts. he didn't even have his earphones with him, he couldn't listen to music on his phone even he wanted to! and no music meant no distractions, nothing to focus on apart from his own thoughts he began to get lost in once again.

at last, the bus arrives at his stop. taesan gets up from his seat, a hand gripping onto the yellow handle near the door as he begins to get off. "hey kid" the old man's voice stops him. "huh?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked up in curiosity. "good luck with that girl, rooting for you" the driver's encouraging words paired with a warm smile gave the otherwise nervous wreck of a boy somewhat of a confidence boost. he shoots the man a smile in return, thanking him before hopping out the door. a new sense of security as he strides towards the gated entrance of the park. he walks with his head down, eyes focusing on the way his thick shoes created indents against the grass. he only looks up when his feet reaches the familiar cobblestone that surrounded the playground.

he holds his breath for a moment and his heart rate went up by tenfold. there she was. in the rather empty area, the only other sound apart from the pumping in his chest was the breeze. a smooth blow of wind that cascaded through her hair, causing the swing in which she sat to sway slowly. his gaze lingered for a moment, staring longingly at his best-friend, myung yn. a harsh gush of wind swept the boy off of his feet, sending his body to move forward all of a sudden. the noise that escaped his mouth causing the girl on the swing to turn around and face him. the two stood like that for a while, not uttering a word and just staring at each other from a distance. yn was the first to look away, her head tilting towards the direction of the other swing beside hers, inviting the boy to come and take a seat. taesan takes painfully slow steps before finally making it to the empty swing, the old steel bar from which it hung on creaking a little at the pressure of his weight. still, neither of them spoke a word. her eyes fixed onto the two little birds a couple feet away from them, and his own ones focused right onto her.

"yn..." he begins, though his voice is a lot deeper than usual. taesan wants to tell her everything, just the way he had planned, he had so much to say and yet for some reason all of those things just wouldn't- no, they just couldn't come out. "here" his eyes widen when she speaks, the boy's gaze falling onto her hand that appeared in front of him. his ipod nano in it, and his worn-out earphones de-tangled and wrapped neatly around the device. "oh" is all he managed to muster out, his own hand reaching over to retrieve it. taesan's touch lingers against her skin, sending a wave of goosebumps to decorate her body. it's silent all over again. minus the chirping of song birds and the rustling of dying leaves as they shed onto the green grass. the boy zones out, trying to find the right sentences to say. he's distracted by the thoughts running through his brain, perplexed when they all began to fade away at the sound of soft humming coming from the girl to his left.

the tune is familiar, though he can't seem to pinpoint where he's heard it before. "that song has been stuck in my head all night, i couldn't sleep" yn began, her voice still raspy from the lack of rest. she still doesn't make eye contact though, continuing to hum as she rocked slightly on the swing. "you write so well"

that's when it all clicked in his head. the song she had been humming, the same song he had made himself. the one about a girl, the one about her. yn's compliment registers in his brain, his head falling down to hide the way a pink shade appeared onto his pale cheeks, silently praying she couldn't hear the way his heart thumped beneath his shirt. "if only i could speak as well as i write" taesan finally talks, his voice making her turn to fully face him now. her eyes are big and a small smile pulled against the corners of her lips. "well, why don't you try? try to tell me about this girl" the way she asked him, like she hadn't a clue about the meaning of his songs, it comforted him a little. how could she be so...normal at a time like this?

he stutters, looking away from her as he opens his mouth to speak again. "well...she's the complete opposite of me and she makes me feel all weird and fuzzy inside and" - "you're always weird, but go on" yn chuckles, interrupting him jokingly. the sound of her laugh making him smile too. "and well, she's my best-friend- my only friend, but sometimes...i guess i just kind of wish we were more than that...i just don't want to ruin our friendship..." he trails off, his eyes getting watery all of a sudden; if you asked him why, he'd blame it on the breeze, but he knows that the real reason was the same one for his smile, the same on for his laugh, and the very same reason for his stupid little love songs.

taesan's body tenses up when he feels a cool touch of a hand tapped against his chin, his head being forced to lift up and to face her. to face yn who seemed to have also begun tearing up. "taesan..." she says, but her voice comes out hushed. her vision begins to blur and the boy panics, unsure of what to do. "yn..." now it was his turn to press his fingers against her jaw, bringing her glossy eyes up to look into his.

"i think i might like you more than a friend"

a gasp escapes her lips. she recognizes the line from his song, she knew since last night how he felt, but for some reason she's still in shock. it was as though the night before had just been some sort of wild dream and it was now coming to life. taesan stares deeply into her eyes, analyzing the way her breathing slowed down and her eyebrows relaxed. "i..." she begins, her warm breath that smelled of coffee blowing against his nose. the boy waits patiently in anticipation, a look of hope and worry washing over his complexion.

"i think i like you too"

a single tear falls out of his eye, a sight she had never seen before. for the boy she had known all of these years never cried. yn blinks, tears of her own threatening to follow suit. his hand moves to caress her cheek, wiping away the wetness that stained it. she giggles softly, finding his touch ticklish. he copies her, breaking into a smile as he sniffles lightly, wiping away his own tear-stained face.

the confession was a lot quicker and a lot more anticlimactic than they had thought or anticipated. the pair simmering down into another moment of silence as they swung softly with the air, the cool breeze blowing against the tiny hairs on their bodies. "so...you listened to the songs, then? i mean...obviously you did" the boy breaks away from the peace, his gaze moving towards the ipod on his lap. she nods, blushing at the memory of his love song. "only the first one" yn says, her voice fading out softly. "good" now she turned to face him, head tilted to the side as she did so. "the other one isn't done yet...and it's way more embarrassing than the first one" his voice is back to normal now, the jittery-ness in his previous tone long gone. "will you show me when it's done then?" she asked, watching as he raided his brain in search for an answer. "or maybe..."

yn gets off of her swing, turning around on her heels to stand right across the boy who remained seated. taesan looks up at her confused, not a clue as to what she was going to tell him next. "maybe you could write me a new one!" she speaks brightly, "one about how the girl of your dreams, me, became the girl of your reality" she's prideful, her head facing the blue sky as she spoke. "how 'bout that?" now she looked right at him, a hopeful look in her eyes contradicting the playful smirk on her lips. the boy can only stare blankly at her, eyebrows furrowing like she was speaking a language he didn't understand. yn rolls her eyes, waving a hand in circles over his face. "hello? earth to taesan?" he shakes out of his short trance, "huh?" the exchange of words gives the pair a feeling of deja vu. she smiles softly, "i just asked you to be my boyfriend and you totally zoned out...loser" taesan tilts his head to the side.

"you...me...boyfriend..huh?!"

she laughs out loud, grabbing onto his hands and lifting him off of the creaky swing. "you, han taesan. me, myung yn. boyfriend and girlfriend" she repeats for the third time, in simpler words for his brain to digest. this time, instead of just staring at her like a confused cat, the boy grins. "wait, wait so we can be like...together now?" she groans at his question, "taesan, if you make me repeat myself again i'll toss that stupid ipod into the fish pond!" he laughs when she compains, his eyes scanning every inch of her features. the way her eyebrows twitched when she spoke, the way her eyelashes fluttered with the wind, the way her nose scrunched up and the way her pretty pink lips sat in a pout towards the bottom of her face. he must've been staring at them for a while, the girl's pout flipping into a little smirk. "what's up?" she asks, his attention returning to her eyes. "nothing...can...can i..." he never finishes the sentence, but the way his lips were parted and the way his breathing got heavier, she knew exactly what was going through his mind.

yn takes a step forward, diminishing any amount of space they had between them before. the familiar feeling of her cold fingers sent a shiver down his spine as both her hands moved up to cup his face. taesan is frozen still, letting the girl make all of the moves for him. she inhales softly before pulling him down towards her, finally coming in contact with one another. the atmosphere is stiff, the strawberry scent of her chapstick melting into his rather dry lips. the kiss lasts no longer than a second, the girl pulling away to stare in his loving eyes. regaining the consciousness that seemed to have left his body a minute ago, the boy's arms moved to wrap around her waist, pulling her into his grasp and their lips caught against each other's once more. this time, the kiss was natural and passionate. yn's arms sat around his neck, her fingers twirling against the ends of his freshly washed hair. their heads tilted in opposite directions, noses bumping as they got lost in each other's faces. slowly becoming messier and desperate as time went by. feeling a little lightheaded, the pair separate, gasping for air. his hands still placed on her hips, hers are now on his shoulders and they stopped to sink into the moment.

the air around them was warm, differing from the cool breeze that had surrounded them earlier. before long, yn's cheeks began to redden, the same shade becoming apparent on the tips of the boy's ears. avoiding eye contact, they looked away in unison, flustered giggles escaping their mouths the same way little children did when they were happy. taesan smiles brightly at her, and the girl reciprocates, the corners of her mouth dipping into little dimples against her skin.

"walk me home?" she asks suddenly, starting up conversation again. he nods, extending a hand out for her to grab before they began walking through the grass and out of the gated park. their walk was unusually quiet, but there was some sort of a comforting feeling that floated over them, hands remained intertwined the whole time, constantly stealing glances and blushing away awkwardly whenever their eyes met.

soon, they arrived at the entrance of her complex. taesan looks down at her for a moment, a hand scratching against the back of his neck that began to feel itchy. yn lets out a sigh, a frown appearing against her face. he looks at her with worried eyes, "what...what's wrong?" he stutters, though she only lets out another breath. "nothing. it's just that if i go home now, jaehyun is gonna bully me relentless about this whole thing!" the boy closes his eyes in relief, "oh, i thought something was seriously wrong-ow!" he exclaims, rubbing his forearm she just hit. "it is something seriously wrong! as my boyfriend you should be just as upset as me!!" taesan freezes at the term, a sense of shyness wrapping around his body the same way his weighted blanket did at night. yn is just as flustered, not expecting herself to say that, her attention moving to stare intently at the asphalt on the ground.

"well, as your boyfriend, what should i do then?"

his hands find home beneath her chin, lifting her pretty face up to look at him again. he looked handsome. i mean, she knew he was good looking this whole time but she swears he had never looked this...lovely before. his soft hair lazily falling against his shining eyes, his tall nose harmoniously balanced with his lips that wore a pretty smirk. "you know if you just keep staring and not giving me an answer i won't know what to do, yn" he rolls his eyes playfully, failing to hold back his laugh as he watched the ever so confident myung yn struggle with her words for what feels like the very first time ever. "i...i mean you...you should- um..." han taesan bends down slightly, pressing a spontaneous kiss against her cheek, their faces far too close and their noses almost touching.

"why don't you come over to mine? i'll show you all the other songs i wrote for you" her eyes widen at his words, "other songs? you mean you wrote MORE songs about me?!" taesan nods, his teeth showing when he smiles this time and the dimples below his eyes forming whisker-like shapes against his cheeks. "who knew emo loser taesan was such a love-sick derp" her sudden insult catches him off guard, a scoff escaping his mouth as he wraps an arm around his girlfriend, pulling her close as they cross the street.

"and who's fault is that?" he asks, the right side of his face pressed against her hair. "whats that supposed to mean? it's not my fault you fell in love with someone as great and amazing as me!" she rolls her eyes, leaning onto the side of his chest as they walked in the opposite direction of her neighbourhood and towards the bus stop. taesan laughs, "well that's just it! when you're so great and amazing like that, i guess i just..." yn looks up at him, interested in what her boyfriend was going to say next.

"i just...can't help falling in love"

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

i want an emo love-sick derpy taesan ☹️ this is the end of my short series <3 i hope u guys liked it!!! and liked the lyrics i wrote for this and the last part too hehehehe 🙂‍↕️ reblogs n feedbacks are always appreciated!!!! tysm for reading, lmk what u thought 🧸 love, kona :3

#kona's work ♡#boynextdoor #boynextdoor drabbles #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor x reader #taesan #taesan x reader #boynextdoor taesan #bnd taesan #han dongmin #han taesan #bnd x reader

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sleepy-grav3 · 21 days ago

Text

Coping Mechanisms

A/n: This was sitting in my oneshots folder for a while, unfinished. I finally finished it so uh, here you go. Enjoy.

Backstory: After taken by the GIW, Danny's core was shattered. The bats found him and took him in. However, he's severely mentally damaged and is starting to stall his healing process.

TW: Mentions of vivisection, mention of organs in jars, mention of Jason's death, flashbacks, hallucinations, mention of injuries

Danny's obsession is Space and Protection; Danny is the Ghost King; Never mentioned what happened to the rest of the Fentons, that's up to speculations; Assumed that the Drs. Fenton had been experimenting on Danny long-term before fully locking him up in the basement; Bruce/Lady Gotham; Alfred is dead or dead-adjacent, making him immortal; child/baby ghosts are referred to as wisps

This is for sign language because there isn't a way to underline the words, which is my preferred style

He didn’t know how long he spent there. All he knew was that the damage done had left scars, something he wasn’t able to gain ever since the accident. He remembered words, cut off sentences from people, that told him why that wasn’t possible.

“Injuries to your emotional state are dangerous”

“You can heal physical wounds, but not those from the heart”

“You can regenerate limbs”

“Your human form is weaker”

“You’re stronger than most ghosts”

“Halfas have extra healing abilities”

“Your core can regenerate as long as your heart keeps beating”

“The subject’s heart is slowing down”

“The subject can live without a heartbeat”

“The Subject can regenerate vital organs”

“Like a human, the spine controls it’s movements, and shuts down the subject similarly to when its brain is removed”

Danny gasped, trembling as he pulled at his hair. No tears came, not even fake green ones to make up for it. His body was still trying to heal the damage done to it, working against his broken core for his sake.

His chest hurt differently. Each time he moved or felt something, his core would cry out in pain. He thought he’d let out a pseudo-wail if it wasn’t broken. If he weren’t broken.

Danny remembered all the jars around him, choking out another gasp as he dragged his hands down his face. He could feel stings from his temples down to his chin before he felt the bandages around his neck.

He couldn’t understand where the stinging came from, only seeing an empty lab with him sitting on a metal table, chains on his wrists and ankles. He blinked a couple times before he saw images of the dark room he was in, but the lab wouldn’t go away.

He stood up, ignoring his body that screamed in protest, and ran out of the room into fake white hallways.

The bats were at the table, only Jason, Duke, Damian, and Danny being missing.

Jason was taking advantage of the fact that he had a flexible schedule to work day and night.

Duke was out on patrol, now having an extra job of helping the dead that resided in the city (only recently he became able to see them, though with some practice).

Damian, however, had only left recently, rushing to get to Danny who was having another episode.

They had saved him a month ago, but it took about 3 weeks for him to wake up. Ever since he woke up, he’s been having episodes. The only way to snap him out of it was to have certain family members shake him out of it, the rest being attacked or avoided outright.

Jason and Alfred were the exception, as Danny would try to save them. They avoided having them get Danny to snap out of it as much as possible, as it would lengthen the time it takes to calm him down.

It hurt them each time an episode came around. It hurt to see Danny’s bandaged and practically mummified figure each time he left his room during an episode or to get some fresh air. And even when the latter happened, he would dissociate or end up breaking down with no tears.

It was only a little over a week into the start of the episodes and they were seeing signs of new injuries. They had to do something, but what could they do? They've filed down his nails, removed sharp objects from his vicinity and locked up the ones that belongs to others, they've safety proofed sharp corners of furniture!

But it wasn't enough.

They had to resort to putting visible cameras in his room. It at least made him hesitate or stop when he was fully there.

Ding-Dong

Alfred shivered. Of course their only proper visitor was a ghost. They never can have a normal one, can they?

Alfred walked over to the front door, opening it without hesitation. There, he was met with a gray skinned woman with a long black dress with a slit by her left thigh and a V neck. She also wore gold hoop earrings, a black sun hat, held a black and gold smoke pipe, and had black sunglasses to cover her near-black purple eyes.

“Lady Gotham, I was not expecting you. Come in.”

Alfred stepped aside, allowing her into his haunt. She smiled at him, waltzing into the manor as she had long bypassed the gates. Alfred led her to one of the living rooms. The one they’d use for interviews. Alfred started to prepare some tea as she took a seat at the edge of a sofa, taking a breath from her smoke pipe and letting out a purple haze.

Alfred didn’t mind it, as what she was smoking wasn’t harmful. It was for the sake of refueling at least part of her strength. Her eyes glowed a lighter purple, black nail becoming a little lighter. It was hard to see her so corrupted by the curses that resided in her haunt.

“Phantom is beginning to stall his healing process.”

Alfred froze for a moment before picking up the tea pot and pouring the tea.

“It’s already difficult to calm him down when he’s in his episodes. He’s barely able to hold down anything he eats and can’t sleep well. We’ve given him multiple shots and used healing magic from the local witch shop. We don’t know what else to do.”

He served the drinks and sat down. Lady gotham picked up her cup and plate, taking a sip from it. She let out a sigh of satisfaction, remaining silent for a while so the 2 could at least finish their drinks before acting on plans.

“I was thinking about having another rogue run about.”

“Isn’t it difficult enough with the ones we have? And how would another help Master Danny?”

Lady Gotham smiled, looking at the tea left in her cup.

“Obsessions have a tight hold on those like us. Perhaps, if Phantom gives in a little to them, he’d stop trying to punish himself.”

“His obsession is protection. How would he even be a rogue?”

Lady Gotham’s smile widened, showing her sharp teeth behind gold-dusted, violet lips. Alfred hasn’t seen that smile since she elected to make Bruce her official knight through a spirit contract.

“Don’t you know? He absolutely adores space. Wouldn’t it be quite the process to rid this city of its polluted and cursed smog to view it?”

“His core is cracked and small pieces are missing. Not to mention his severe injuries. How would he be able to work? Ancients- how would he be able to avoid fighting your knights?”

“Mm, I’m sure he’d figure something out. Being powerless never stopped any of our other rogues. He might even get inspired by that politician. Lewis, was it?”

“Lex Luthor. At least you got the L right this time.”

“Ah, no matter. He’s not relevant.”

“You brought him up.”

“Oh shush. We have work to do. Finish your tea, let us speak with the wisp of a king.”

Alfred drank the last of his tea and stood up, leading Lady Gotham to Danny’s room. Once there, he found Danny completing a space puzzle on the desk of his room. From the new bandages on his face and hands, Alfred could tell the episode from that morning had resulted in further injury.

“King Phantom,” That title made Danny perk up, turning to them with brighter blue eyes. “Lady Gotham and I wish to speak with you.”

Danny adjusted his chair and body to face them without trouble. Alfred summoned a small table and 2 chairs, allowing the spirits to sit down.

“Phantom, I’ve noticed that you are stalling your healing process.” Danny flinched at Lady Gotham’s words. “My little wisp… you must know that this dimension and those that branch with it will cease to exist if your End comes to be.”

Danny’s eyes widened. Panic seeped into him as he tried to push his healing to go faster, ignoring the strain of his core. Alfred cleared his throat, making Danny jump and stop forcing the healing out of surprise.

“Master Danny, straining your core isn’t necessary. In fact, it may make things worse. Might we suggest another method.”

Danny hesitantly nodded.

“Lady Gotham offered that you indulge in your obsession. And yes, the sky is covered in smog. That’s where our suggestion comes into play.” Alfred smiled at him. “Why not become a rogue?”

Danny’s eyes widened once more as he quickly shook his head. Lady Gotham gave him the stare, making him freeze up.

“Now, now. A wisp like you should be allowed to indulge in their obsessions in peace. Really, it wouldn’t be a problem with how you’ll work. Attack those causing the air pollution, get rid of some curses, free the sky. Maybe steal some space themed objects here and there. I’m not quite sure how you’d move about or what your alias will be, but it’s perfectly fine. You don’t need to hurt people to be a criminal. And fulfilling your obsession will recharge your power.”

Danny was slow to process. And soon, the way he thought through it transitioned to plans. He pursed his lips as he thought of it all, but eventually shook his head.

“Bats”

“We could speak with them.” Alfred insisted. “Go over plans and ideas. Your health is still a concern, but I highly insist that you go through with this. We are all worried for you, Master Danny. It hurts to see you suffer. Please think more about it.”

Danny remained silent. Lady Gotham stood up and the 3 pieces of furniture disappeared, Alfred starting to clean. She went up to Danny and held out her hand. Danny looked at it before reaching out his own and placing it on hers.

“You’re safe here, my wisp. Trust in my knights. You needn’t fight any longer. Only exist. Do not End yourself. You’re worth more than you believe.”

Bruce and Damian perked up when they came back to the cave to see Danny sitting by the computer. He was watching clips of Martian Manhunter and Miss Martian fighting. It was a nice change of pace compared to other times they interacted. It was peaceful.

“Daniel, I did not think you were interested in the cave.” Damian hummed as he walked over, taking off his mask.

Danny turned his chair and looked over at them.

“My healing is being stalled.”

They froze. Damian’s breathing had stopped before the boy convinced himself to do the breathing practices taught to him. Bruce, on the other hand, felt his heart drop. His hands trembled. The sight of Jason’s dead body flashing through his mind.

Bruce almost asked for a ‘report’. That tended to be something that calmed him and his children down enough for them to talk. But that wouldn’t work for Danny. That shouldn’t work. He hoped Danny was willing to talk more. He hoped that there was something to fix this.

“Is there anything we could do?” Bruce asked.

Danny pursed his lips, averting his eyes. Damian narrowed his eyes.

“Daniel. If there is something we could do, speak. It is troublesome as long as it is related to you.”

“Damian is right, Danny. Please. Tell us what to do.”

They got closer, practically at arms length. Damian didn’t have his domino mask on, but Bruce kept his cowl. He needed Batman. He wouldn’t be able to stay together as Bruce right now.

Danny looked up at Bruce and over at Damian before sighing.

“Lady Gotham said that I need to indulge in my obsession more. But when ghosts don’t pull back… it gets extreme. It appears unhealthy. I would…” Danny hesitated once more. “Lady Gotham and Alfred thought becoming a rogue would be the best way.”

The vigilante stood silent for a moment, Bruce processing what was told while Damian thought it through.

“Would going to the Watchtower not be enough?” Batman asked.

“He’d only crave more from there.” Damian mentioned. “What he needs is something long-term. We cannot safely allow him to go to other planets as he is now. However, if he steals and tries enough to get rid of the smog, the amount of time should be sufficient, assuming that’s how obsessions could work.”

Danny’s shoulders let go of some tension.

“The harder it is, the more it satisfies the ghost. I was thinking of targeting companies that cause air pollution. But there’s also curses, so I’ll need to work through them with magic practice.”

Bruce and Damian grimaced at the mention of magic.

“You should talk with Tim about this. He’d be able to plan out how you’d go about. Just don’t overdo it. We don’t want you to get hurt. But know that we will try to stop you.” Bruce said, taking off his cowl, smiling at his new son. “Go and design your suit. I’ll have it made. But make sure your identity is hidden, alright?”

Danny nodded and got up, leaving the 2 to clean themselves up before heading off to bed.

————————————————

Everyone in the batfam got into the vigilante business. It was just a thing. Danny broke that trend, but not the way any of them expected him to.

One day, Danny will retire. No capes, no masks. Just a civilian.

But that day will only come when his healing is finished. With how difficult it was to mend a broken core, not to mention the organs his body had put off regenerating, it would be a long time until then. Years, decades maybe.

The backstory was simple.

It was publicly known that he was a lab rat. Though they thought it was his parents had begun it from young like they had with Jazz (which was the reason why she was smart enough to skip a few classes in college, an excuse really). He’ll play into that. I want to see the sky. And he’ll be a crazy brat about it.

Commissioner Gordon had already shared with him that he had legal immunity until the acts and the GIW were fully taken down. Otherwise, he’d have to be executed under the law. In other words, any and all crimes he committed until then was permitted. He was going to use that to his advantage.

The suit was hard to come up with. He had to make it look shaggy and like normal clothing. He needed an easy to follow theme. He visited Selina and Nygma for it all. Jason came around and gave him some pointers. Tim had made him swear that he had to be on his game to not be caught early or at all. He couldn’t ask any of the bats to help, not unless his life was in danger.

Red Hood could help him.

Signal could hang out with him.

Red Robin could banter on a personal level with him.

It was difficult to get there, but the process helped feed his obsession. He was ready. He wanted to get better. He had to. He had people who care about him. He couldn’t hurt them by allowing himself to waste away, no matter how draining and painful it was to continue to heal.

He was going to get better. For them.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #batfam #ghost king danny #giw #rogue! danny #I see him more are an anti-hero tho #like red hood #but he's going to be like Poison Ivy so... rogue #I can see Poison Ivy and him teaming up #Maybe Riddler spread the word and Ivy offered to be his partner in crime once in a while?#she's being good now but she reverts here and there #What plant names relates to ghosts?#Would danny pick a ghost related alias?#he's not going to be using ghost powers for a while #poor danny

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sleepyparalysisdmon · 1 month ago

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SVT with an ADHD partner

Requested? Yes!

Genre: comfort

Seungcheol

Whether you’re a student, taking on new responsibilities at work, or picking up a big project at home, Cheol always encourages it, especially if it’s something that you really want to do or are passionate about. But he’s concerned when you’re carrying a lot of stress related to these things. Over dinner, you lament that you’re having trouble prioritizing everything you need to do because everything feels both important and urgent. He asks you to make him a list and your eyes glaze over a little because you definitely don’t have one, but he’s insistent. So you jot down what you can remember and the meal is long forgotten as he helps you work through the order things need to be done in by due date or how long it will take, and how important things really are (is this for an elective class or a major class? Is this for your boss or for someone else? Is this part of the project a hazard to leave unfinished in the house for long or will it just be a little bit messy if it sits for a bit?). He does it in such a delicate yet detailed way that the next day you don’t feel so overwhelmed by the long list because you actually have a game plan.

Jeonghan

You two regularly play a little game called ‘Hannie, can you help me find something’. You never know where you last had it or saw it, but he always asks just in case. He helps you look, tearing apart the house if he has to, especially if it’s an important thing. When this lost item is found (and it almost always is), he’ll hand it back to you and teasingly say something like, ‘what would you do without me?’. But if you ever seem upset by this comment or having lost the thing in the first place, he’ll be quick to reassure you that he’ll always play this game with you. Still, he buys little things to give you visible ‘homes’ for things - like a hook on the back of the door so your favorite sweaters and jackets don’t get wrinkled in the floor, or a decorative bowl to drop your favorite jewelry into so you don’t lose your favorite ring, or getting clear containers for things and labeling them so you know where to look for something. These little things make your life easier, so he’ll keep doing them.

Joshua

You often lament about how cluttered your space is. You say it’s an organized mess and it wouldn’t normally bother you because you feel that you can function in it just fine, but you’ve been shamed about it a few times, whether it be the wrinkled, free-floating papers in your backpack, or the haphazard stacks of random things on your desk at work, or a total inability to keep your closet organized and not all over your floor. Where as Hannie is worried about your object permanence and losing things, Joshua is worried about adding some structure to these things to take stress off of you and reduce the shame you might feel about it. He buys you folders for each of your classes in colors you like, or a few cute labeled baskets for your desk to sort things by status, or installing a new closet organizer that might be more user friendly. He also absolutely doesn’t mind to come behind you and pick up and straighten a few things here and there if it prevents you from stressing about it when you see it later.

Jun

When you ask him how to make that one recipe that you both really like, Jun mindlessly rambles off the instructions. You don’t answer and he notices that your eyes glaze over. You ask him to repeat it again, but your glazed look doesn’t change when he does. He asks if you’re okay, and you admit that it’s a lot of steps and you’re afraid you’re going to mess it up. You’re not a bad cook, not by a long shot, but he sees that you need to take one thing at a time. So he goes to the kitchen and cooks with you, guiding you through the recipe. The following week, you find a neat little binder with handwritten recipes and detailed step by step instructions. There’s even a long strip of tape on the margin of each page, allowing you to mark off what you’ve done and not done with a dry erase marker. (I’m low key emotional thinking about this level of thoughtfulness.)

Hoshi

No matter what he’s had to do that day or how tired he is, he is never too tired to match your energy. If you’re restless and need to get up and do something, he’s going with you. No request is too wild. A walk around the block? Sure. A sprint around the block? He’ll laugh but say ‘why not’ and start a game of tag. Need to blast music? He’ll hand you his phone to pick what you want to play on speaker. Need something visually stimulating? He’s putting on some bright, flashy game for the two of you to play. Genuinely, his creativity knows no bounds.

Wonwoo

Everybody has bad days and you’re included in that. Wonwoo might have a little bit of a temper, but does everything he can to squash it with you, even when you are particularly quick to anger. It doesn’t prevent every single fight, but most often, he’ll tug you over to sit with him and ask what made you so angry and what he can do to help. Sometimes it’s something he can help and sometimes it’s not, but he does his absolute best to meet you with understanding when your temper flares, knowing that it could be a thousand (sometimes seemingly unrelated) things that made it bubble up in the first place. When the fights are unavoidable, he’s so apologetic afterwards because he absolutely hates fighting with you.

Woozi

He absolutely understands that sometimes some things just can’t be finished in a timely manner or at all, but he gets a lot of satisfaction out of finishing things when he can. One day, you’re watching him put away things you’ve left out or closing things you opened but forgot to close. He does this wordlessly without an ounce of bitterness, but still, you lament because you can’t seem to be able to close a damn cabinet, much less finish a big project. Will not let you linger on that because he genuinely doesn’t mind doing these little things, but he’ll always offer to help you make progress on those big projects. Literally does not matter what it is, he’ll take an active role by working on it with you, or take a more inactive role by just accompanying you as you work on it. You’ll never turn it down because you enjoy his company.

Now I promise I’m not recycling ideas here, but the concept mentioned in my bipolar reaction for Seokmin applies here too. You like to talk and he likes to talk so really, you guys are the perfect match. He gets you, but sometimes others don’t. If anyone ever makes a comment that you’re talking too much, he will go out of his way to be even worse just to prove a point, because no one makes his baby feel bad!! He will not let you feel upset by this for long because he loves that he can talk to you about literally anything. He’d skip almost anything if he could just to keep the conversation going sometimes. Will forever be both the #1 fan and #1 defender of your yapping.

Mingyu

Now he’s protective naturally and you fire up a lot of those instincts. At first, he thought it was just because of how much he cares, but then he realizes it’s your bravery (or rather your impulsivity) that makes him that way. Because you will walk home alone at night, or go out and overdo it on the drinks, or go toe-to-toe with someone twice your size just because you’re pissed off, or speed when you drive. He loves your bravery, admires it even, but dreads the thought of you getting hurt when you sometimes lack this sense of danger for certain situations. So he walks with you or drives you everywhere, and accompanies you to the club every single time he can, and deescalates a tense situation or pulls you away all together. It really is just another reason for him to never leave your side, like he needed another one.

Minghao

He knows stress is unavoidable to some extent, but he’s sometimes very worried about how it weighs you down more than most people. While Cheol might help you manage the source of the stress, Mingaho will be more worried about reducing the stress itself because it’s a good tool to have when you can’t avoid stressful situations or prioritize your way through it. Again, I promise I’m not recycling ideas here, but I genuinely think he’d be all over making sure you eat and sleep and find ways to relax. Even if you aren’t into meditation, he’ll have you try things like deep breathing, painting, and tai chi. Will not let you feel bad for a second about how other people seem to be able to handle this sort of stress. It doesn’t matter if other people can because it’s you he’s worried about.

Seungkwan

While you’re a big picture person, he’s a small details person. It’s never bothered him, he actually enjoys that you think differently than him and open his eyes to things. But the cool thing is that he can do the same for you. You’re overwhelmed by or totally miss details sometimes, but he’ll do little things to show you that it’s not so scary. Like if you’re watching a movie together, he’ll pick out a little detail and say, “Oh my god, did you notice that?” He’ll roll the movie back and let you focus on it. Or he’ll encourage you to slow down for a second and reread the email you’re about to send. Or he’ll assure you that it’s okay if you made a mistake and that you can fix it. He will never, ever let you feel stupid for needing the little reminders to take a moment and pay attention to the details.

Vernon

Now, here’s the thing. He’s forgetful and yet not. Let me explain. He knows you forget to pack your lunch, so he does. He knows you forget your laptop charger when you put away your laptop, so when he sees the lone charger, he’ll put it with your laptop. He knows you sometimes forget to put the cap back on the toothpaste and puts it back on wordlessly. But you help him too. You remember names when he doesn’t. You don’t complain when he forgets to put the toilet seat down. You sometimes remember his schedule better than he does. I’m actually really soft thinking about the way you guys might help each other out with your own versions of forgetfulness.

Chan

In the beginning of your relationship, he thought your impatience was kind of cute. Don’t get me wrong, he still does, but he has come to realize just how frustrated you are sometimes because of it. Sometimes it’s little things like something taking too long to bake in the oven. Sometimes it’s that it takes too much time to actually fold your laundry. Sometimes it’s that slow driver in front of you on your way home. Sometimes it’s that you have an appointment in a couple hours and you can’t fathom squeezing anything else in before that. He helps by trying to counter this impatience in ways, sometimes subtle, sometimes not. He distracts you while something bakes, or he offers to fold your laundry, or he drives you wherever you need to go, handing you the aux cord. And on those appointment days, he wakes up early with you to help fill the time in a way that doesn’t feel constricting, assuring you that you won’t be late because he won’t let you be.

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kaymarie-bell · 1 year ago

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TWST - Diasomnia Book, Part 5 spoilers

Silver's Adoption

Multiple pages, please scroll down. Do not repost!

Reblogs and Likes appreciated ❤️

I started this comic right after the update dropped back in September, but I had to take a flight the very next morning so it's been sitting in my folder unfinished. I cleaned up my initial draft a bit and this is the end result. I wanted to draw all the way to the "Blessings of the night" scene but this wouldn't have seen the light of day if I did *cries*

Anyways, the Vanrouge family has been living rent free in my head ever since the update. Can't wait for next part 🫡🌻

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst jp #diasomnia chapter #diasomnia spoilers #diasomnia chapter spoilers #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #silver vanrouge #twst fan art #kay draws #I had to cut this into 6 pages or else tunglr would make it all blurry rip #might be a bit wonky because it's my first time making a webtoon

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kyuhu · 1 year ago

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had this sitting in my wip folder unfinished for WEEKS and finally got to color it. uncolored version under the cut because I think I like it better :'D

#hws poland #hws lithuania #lietpol #aph lithuania #aph poland #can you spot the dishsoap?#feliks didn't use it of course but it's there #smoking tw #ahhh everytime I go ok different color palette this time #and then it ends up yellow/greenish but also kinda grey? I wanted this to be a lot more vibrant #I think it's so much harder to color the inside of a room instead of like landscapes/trees etc #scars tw #almost forgot

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spoilmesweetieforficssake · 1 year ago

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This Is Kinda Nice Too (4)

So it's been a while since I posted for this prompt, but I was looking through some unfinished fics and stumbled across this. Hoping to now move this fic into my 'finished' folder, so here we are. Previous parts are linked below for context but can be read as a stand alone.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~*~

“I gotta ask a favour,” says Melissa as she sits in her usual seat at she and Barb’s table. “Dessert. I’m just not gonna have time.”

Barb’s eyebrows raise as the red head starts to reel off all of the prep she needs to do for your dinner date. “Girl, you have got to calm down. The girl isn’t expecting a five star banquet. She’s going to be giddy over the fact she’s spending time with you, not nitpicking at your food.”

Melissa rolls her eyes. “That was all fun in the forest but this is real. I just wanna do this right.”

“You’re not going to be able to relax and enjoy yourself if all you’re worrying about is the food,” points out the kindergarten teacher.

“I’m not worrying about the food!” exclaims the red head. “Just the lack of time to make the food…and the dessert.”

With a sigh, Barb finally concedes. “Fine, I’ll make dessert, but you owe me!”

Friday after school finds Melissa in the doorway to your classroom. “Hey. Just wanted to check you’re still good for tomorrow?”

“Seven o’clock sharp,” you grin. “I can’t wait. Is there anything I can bring?”

You watch as she pushes off the doorframe, sauntering up to you and effectively stealing your breath in the process.

“How about you and that cute smile?” she smirks, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, and acting far braver than she feels.

“I can do that,” you say quietly, your grin only widening.

Standing outside Melissa’s door, you take a deep breath, loosening your death grip on the flowers you brought. You know she had said you didn’t need to bring anything, but you couldn’t just turn up empty handed. And if you’d also picked up a little box of the chocolates you knew Melissa liked, well, you were only being polite.

Knocking on the now familiar door, you feel your heart rate increase at the sound of approaching footsteps from within. As the door is opened to reveal the red head, you can’t help but let your eyes wander over her curves. “You look amazing,” you tell her as she steps back to allow you in. “Even more than usual.”

Her cheeks pink in a blush as you hold out the flowers to her, smiling as she shyly takes them.

“I told you you didn’t have to bring anything.”

“I was hardly going to turn up empty handed to our first date,” you smile.

She ducks her head. “I’m gonna go fix these, you know where the coats go.” Leaving you to hang up your bag and coat, she retreats to the kitchen, trying to calm her nerves as she opens up the flowers and sets them in a vase. She looks up as you enter the kitchen. “You scrub up pretty well yourself.”

“Had a good reason to put in some effort,” you reply, putting the chocolates you had brought down by the vase of flowers.

She frowns.

“Just in case my sweet smile wasn’t quite cutting it,” you shrug.

“These are my favourites,” she says quietly as she looks more closely at the box. Not some dollar store number or some last-minute purchase from the corner store.

“Well I wasn’t going to bring you ones you don’t like.”

She closes the space between you, her fingers skimming down your arms before pulling you into a hug. “Thank you.” She pulls back, blinking to try and hide the tears that have gathered in your eyes at how thoughtful you’ve been. “Now, you go sit and I will get things plated up.”

Dinner is better than you could have hoped. The table is set with candles, casting the room in a romantic light and making Melissa’s hair glow. It reminds you of that first night by the fire, when things started to shift between the two of you. The conversation and laughter flows between you, and you realise although you’ve had a crush on her forever, you couldn’t have done this all those months ago. The friendship that’s grown between the two of you has allowed you to be you with her.

Her eyes tear up as you tell her as much. “It’s been a two way street, kid. You’ve never made me feel like I had to be anyone else with you, like who I was wasn’t enough,” she admits feeling brave in the face of your admission. “There are…things I usually hide when I meet people. Things you learned and you didn’t pity me, think less of me.”

“Why would I think any less of you for anything I’ve learned about you?” you frown. “You’re amazing. And I mean that. You are…so strong and capable and just…amazing,” you finish. “And I should say beautiful too.”

Cheeks once again flushed from more than just the heat, she stands from the table, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as she passes your chair. “Got room for dessert?”

You close your eyes at the brief contact, a smile on your lips. You don’t make to follow her, giving her a few moments to herself. “Always,” you tell her. “You know I have a sweet tooth.”

When she returns, she places a plate down in front of you. You frown, looking down at the plate. You know Melissa. You know her cooking, and this, this doesn’t look like it. “This doesn’t feel like a Schemmenti recipe.” That wasn’t to say, however, it didn’t taste good.

“That’s because it’s a Barbara Howard special,” answers the red head. “Honestly, that woman is a whizz at baking.”

“You told Barb about this?” you ask, this somehow catching you by surprise.

“Sweetie, Barb has had to put up with me having a breakdown over the menu, my timings, my prep, the whole nine yards the whole week,” laughs Melissa.

“I didn’t realise,” you breathe, feeling guilty at the fact you’d somehow missed her semi-permanent state of panic. “Sorry! I wanted this to be fun for you too.”

She smiles sweetly at you. “It has been. I just…wanted to make it special.”

You put your spoon down. “Melissa, I meant it when I said this could be pizza and beers and it would be special to me, because it’s you. This has been great, and I feel like I’ve been treated like a queen, but you know I don’t need all this, right? I was happy sitting in the middle of the woods holding your hand.”

For what feels like the hundredth time that night, Melissa finds herself blushing. She had been happy sitting in the middle of the woods holding your hand too. “If you wanna date me, you gotta live with me being a little extra sometimes.”

You grin back at her across the table. “Oh, I’m good with that. And yes, just to be clear, I do wanna date you. Properly.”

Helping clear the plates after dessert you both move to the sofa to finish your wine. The wine glasses are quickly forgotten on the table, however, as her lips find yours. As her hands clutch you to her, you’re in heaven. Her lips find your neck and you realise you’re done for.

She pulls back as a whimper leaves your throat, her pupils blown as she takes you in. You’re flushed and panting. “I barely touched you,” she breathes in awe.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” you reply.

She smirks. “Know what I’d like to do to you.”

This has you both blushing. She takes your hands, linking your fingers together. “I want this. You. All of it, but I don’t want to rush things.”

“Baby steps?”

“Maybe not quite that slow and innocent,” she smirks, leaning in to kiss you once more. “Stay?” she asks, the word whispered against your lips as she rests her forehead against your own. “I want to share an actual bed with you.”

Upstairs, you take turns in the bathroom. You find yourself smiling at your reflection in the mirror as you brush your teeth. The borrowed oversized sleep shirt you wear is soft and worn. You’ve stayed over at Melissa’s house before, but in the guest room in your own nightwear. This is a whole new level of intimacy.

Turning the light off as you leave the bathroom, you find the red head already in bed. Slipping beneath the covers, there’s a polite distance between the two of you as you regard each other in the dim streetlight filtering through the gap in the curtains. Finally, Melissa breaks the silence with a sigh and a rolling of her eyes. She shuffles across the mattress until she can curl into your side, much as she did that night in the woods.

“Tell anyone I’m a koala and I’ll have to kill you,” she mumbles against your chest.

You can’t help but laugh at the half-hearted threat. “Worth it.”

She leans up and glares at you in the dim light.

In return, you push yourself up to press a kiss to her lips. “Fine, my lips are sealed so long as you promise to keep putting yours on them.”

“Deal,” she smiles, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before settling back against your chest.

The next morning you’re woken by Melissa’s message tone. She grumbles incoherently as she blindly reaches for the device on her bedside table. Locating the offending item, she brings it close to her face where she can see it. “Barb,” she informs you, turning the phone so you can read the screen.

Still sleepy and warm, even this small action makes you smile. That she’s comfortable enough to let you read the message from her friend. Barb is asking how the night went. “I’d say it went pretty well.” So you got to wake up with Melissa at an actual bed, but it appeared Barb was still to be your alarm.

Melissa’s lips curl up in a smile. “Yeah, it did.” She taps the screen of her phone, holding it above the two of you and taking a picture. Bringing her phone back down, you both look at the screen, at how happy you both look, curled up together. “You okay if I send this?”

“Long as you are,” you reply, pressing a kiss to the top of her head where she rests against your shoulder. Everything is covered and you’re both in PJ’s. It’s almost tasteful.

The reply that comes back is quick. Melissa laughs at the almost expected prudish reply. She types out a reply, telling Barb to look at the picture again and take her mind out of the gutter. A few moments later, her phone chimes again.

This time, she smirks, turning the phone to allow you to see it more easily. You read the typed words, saying you both look very happy and she hopes you enjoy dessert. You frown at the tense. Barb is usually very particular in what she says. “Is she?”

“Implying what you think she is?” laughs the red head. “I think she might be.” She tosses her phone back on the bedside table, shifting until she can look up at you, her chin resting on your shoulder. “Morning.”

“Morning,” you smile.

“You know,” she drawls. “This. Waking up with you in an actual bed. This is kinda nice too.”

“Careful,” you warn, taking in her face in the early morning light, her curls spilling messily over her shoulders. “A girl could get used to it.”

A soft smile tugs at her lips. “Maybe she should?”

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