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starry-bi-sky · 9 months

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tick tock

Highkey dedicating this to @watercolour-carnations bc they sent me an ask about my 'danny is thomas wayne' au and singlehandedly revitalized my brainrot for it. Apparently the quickest way to a starry's heart is through their ask box

Now posted on ao3 under the name 'dniwer eht kcolc'!

In hindsight, hosting a science exhibit was probably not the best idea that Bruce has ever. This wasn't even one of Bruce's galas and, yet he was still attending because it gave him the opportunity to scope out any potential rogues (or henchmen).

Damian was by his side, and Tim was on the other side of the room, inspecting some of the other inventions under the prospect of gaining new hires for R&D at WE. Something that was not entirely false. Bruce could always use new, bright minds working to make Gotham a better place.

He was, particularly, eyeing up one moderately-sized invention that a woman with cutting blue eyes and stark white hair had covered with a white sheet. An interesting choice when everyone else had already revealed their own inventions. Drifting closer with Damian, he smiles charmingly at the scientist when they lock eyes.

"And what is this interesting contraption?" He asks, looking over the sheet as if it was the invention itself and not what was underneath.

The woman curled purple-painted fingers around the sheet, yanking it down to reveal a machine that looks like a mix of a jukebox and a grandfather clock. A long wire was attached to it, and a strange, blinking, circlet-like device connected on the other end.

Bruce's brows rose considerably, and he could sense Damian's eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"This is my Holographic Memory Machine -- the name is still a work in progress -- it's a memory machine meant to allow anyone to relive their memories right in front of them, even the ones they don't remember." The woman says with a smile, her name card reads 'Dr. Casey W. Kairos'. He's never heard of her before. An out-of-townie, perhaps?

"Interesting." Bruce's hands fold behind his back and he looks down at his disinterested son, and then back up to Dr. Kairos. It sounded harmless, but even a pencil could be harmless until enough force was put into it. "How does that work?"

Dr. Kairos walks over and holds up the strange circlet device, "The user wears this headband. It scans their brainwaves and then plays a memory of their choice right in front of them like a hologram, including any voices that came with it." She explains, showing it off to Bruce and Damian. "Would either of you like to try it? The HMM has been tested and it is completely safe."

Damian scoffs and turns to him, "This is a waste of time, father," He says, "let's move on."

"Oh, don't be like that, Dames." Bruce smiles genially, placing a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezing it. It reminds him of when his father used to do the exact same thing, and he turns to Dr. Kairos. "I can try it, Doctor."

Kairos smiles widely, looking incredibly pleased. "Come stand here then, Mr. Wayne. I can get the HMM up and working." She gestures to a spot on the floor within the circlet's range, and Bruce goes and does as told.

"Standing around and looking pretty is my specialty, Doctor Kairos." He jokes as she gets the device situated on his head. It sits on his forehead snugly, and tucks behind his ears. Kairos snorts and turns to get the machine activated.

"Father." Damian says, indignant and scowling. His arms crossed over his chest petulantly. Bruce chuckles at him.

"The Doctor said it was perfectly safe, Damian." He admonishes lightly, wagging a finger at him. "I trust the good lady to know what she's doing." Not really, but he'd rather test it out on himself if it was unsafe.

Thirty seconds passed with Dr. Kairos working on flicking on the HMM, and when it came alive it came with a low hum and a distinct, ticking like noise. "Ah, there we go." She hums, stepping away. "It's up and working, Mister Wayne. Just think of a memory and let the HMM do the rest."

"Thank you, Doctor." Bruce nods at her, and then tries to think of what to let the machine show. Nothing that would give away his identity as Batman, of course not. Nothing incriminating.

He looks to Damian, who still looked very unhappy with him. Perhaps a memory of one of his boys in the manor? Or a Brucie Wayne moment that everyone's seen. His brows furrow in thought. One of his speeches?

...No. No, he has an idea.

Immediately, the HMM begins to hum louder, the ticking drowned out by the sound of its fans kicking in. It starts drawing the attention of the other ongoers, and Damian steps to Bruce's side as a crowd begins to form.

"What is that thing?"

"What's it doing?"

"Is it safe?"

Hushed whispers scatter around them as more and more people abandon the other stalls in favor of seeing whatever spectacle was happening. Tim appears as well, pushing his way through the crowd and situating himself by Damian and Bruce.

"What's going on?" He whispers with a frown, looking between Bruce and Damian.

Damian hmphs, "Father is trying out this woman's 'Memory Machine'."

Just when Bruce is starting to think the machine doesn't work, he hears a sound that silences the spectators. A piano note. A singular note, followed by another, and another. Right before Bruce's eyes, the air shimmers, and a projection of his father sitting at the grand piano appears before him.

His breath hitches in his throat. He remembers this. He remembers this piece. It was father's favorite.

Damian and Tim are stiff at his side, and Bruce hears the crowd gasp.

There, sitting on the floor at the bench, is Bruce himself at six years old. He's resting his arms on it, and leaning his head on his arms with a look of pure adoration -- did he really look like that? -- aimed at his father.

There's no talking between them, a content silence as Thomas Wayne fills the air with his piano playing. That is-- until he stops midway through the piece, fingers stopping the keys with a abrupt jerk.

Thomas laughs, quiet and full of love, and little Bruce picks his head up with an affronted frown. "Why'd you stop? I like listening to you play."

"I know you do." Thomas says, his voice is as soothing as Bruce remembers it to be. The memory twists to look at little Bruce with a blinding smile, as if he was looking at his whole world. It's the first time in decades that Bruce has seen his father smiling like-- like that. His eyes involuntarily sting.

"But how can you hear so well when you're all the way down there?" Thomas shifts, and pats an open space on the bench. "Come sit up here, Boo. I can teach you to play."

(Thomas Wayne was always fond of pet names, he had plenty of them for Bruce, and he used them at every opportunity.)

Little Bruce perks up, "Really?" He grins, and then clambers into the bench. His father's arms wrap around him.

The voices fade as the memory slowly begins to collapse, and Bruce feels a spike of panic in his heart before the memory is replaced by another one.

He's younger, probably four years old, being sprayed down by a hose by his father. Little Bruce is squealing with laughter, trying to swat the water away like a fly, and his clothes are drenched.

Thomas is laughing as well, wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looks like he just came home from a business meeting. Bruce always thought he was old when he was little. But at four years old, Thomas Wayne is only a little over twenty. Barely an adult. He is twenty-four when he dies. He was so young.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Little Bruce squeals, trying to run out of the line of fire, but Thomas Wayne has a sharp eye, and the hose in his hands follow Bruce no matter where he goes.

Until finally Thomas drops the hose and runs towards Bruce, who is trying to recover from being sprayed down with ice cold water. Thomas reaches him before he has time to move, and scoops him up in his arms.

He is laughing loudly and boisterously, spinning them both around as Bruce clings to him for dear life, laughing with him. The memory fades away, and Bruce feels like there are hands around his throat trying to choke him.

A new one shows up, one he doesn't remember at all. His father is younger than before, a teenager, and he's holding a tiny bundle in his arms. He looks like he's on the verge of tears, hunched over it like a shield.

Someone, a girl with gothic attire, peers over his shoulder. "Gosh, Tom, a baby? That's a lot of responsibility." She says, dark-lipstick lips painted downwards in a frown. "And right after you've disowned your parents too?"

Another boy looks around Thomas with a similar frown and an uncertain look, "Yeah man, I'm with Sam on this one -- for once. You don't even have anywhere to live."

Thomas doesn't look like he's even paying attention, utterly smitten with the baby -- its himself, Bruce realizes -- he's cradling. "Look at him though, guys," he breathes, "he's so tiny. Have you seen his little watercolor eyes?"

(Watercolor eyes. Bruce had long since forgotten about that nickname his father gave him. hearing him say it is like a punch to his stomach.)

"You named him Bruce?"

Bruce huffs to himself, an involuntary smile twitching at his mouth as the memory dips again and cycles through another memory he recognizes.

The memories it shows are sporadic, with no chronological order to them other than each and every one is a happy one.

Bruce playing piano with his father.

Bruce stargazing with his father.

Bruce being carried on his father's shoulders.

Bruce getting ready for a gala with his father.

Bruce in the kitchen helping his dad make breakfast (there's pancake flour smeared on his cheek).

Bruce making a snowman with his father.

An apology between Bruce and his father in the form of a piano duet.

There are even a few memories he doesn't remember. Some of them are when he's old enough to, but many are when he's a baby. Some are before his father was adopted by the Waynes, when the only thing on their backs was a raggedy backpack and an oversized sweatshirt, and Bruce's baby blanket. And some are after, where he's sitting in an antique rocking chair bottle feeding Bruce with a look of sheer adoration on his face.

That look never seems to go away, ever, in any of the memories.

Finally, the HMM settles on a final memory, one that makes Bruce's blood run cold and snaps him out of his nostalgic revelry. His father is getting ready in his room, and Bruce comes barreling in with his own suit-and-tie.

"Dad! Dad! Dad!" He chants, running to Thomas, who whirls around and picks him up seamlessly. They spin twice before Thomas settles in front of the mirror, Bruce on his hip as he adjusts his tie with one hand.

"Yes, boo?" Thomas grins, wide-splitting with his shock-blue eyes looking at Bruce in the reflection. He and Bruce have the same eyes. It's shocking how much they look like each other, now that Bruce was older.

Little Bruce makes a dramatic face, a look that only lasts a few seconds before he remembers his excitement. He wiggles in Thomas' arms, "You gotta hurry up! Or we'll be late to the movie!"

Bruce's fingers dig into his palm, and he can vaguely feel his sons' looking at him. There's a feeling of impending doom square in the center of his lungs, and he forces himself to look on.

Thomas laughs, and nuzzles Bruce's cheek. "The movie isn't going anywhere, chum, I promise." He says, before setting him down. Little Bruce pouts, his lower lip sticking out. "I know how much you've been looking forward to this."

"Can you help me with my tie then?" Bruce asks, and looks at his own, sloppily done tie around his neck. "I can never get it right."

And, of course, Thomas Wayne kneels down to redo it. He always did everything Bruce asked or wanted. He measures it, loops it, and then knots the tie perfectly.

"There." He says, and smoothes out Bruce's little jacket, smiling in adoration. "Now go play, I'll call you when it's time to go."

And Bruce does just that, running out of the room with a yell of, "You better promise!"

"I promise!" Thomas yells back, laughing at his son as he turns back to the mirror.

The memory shimmers, and changes to as they're leaving. And then and there does Bruce call it quits. His eyes are glistening, his tears nearly blinding him with the swelling, overwhelming grief in his heart. He looks away, and tries to find Doctor Kairos.

(He doesn't see her switch something on the side of the machine. There is no noticeable difference in the machine, but on the inside a time rune starts to glow.)

"I think I'm done here, Doctor." He says once he can find his voice without it shaking. He can't hide the full crack and tremble laying beneath it, but at least he doesn't cry. He's almost forgotten that he had a silent audience.

Doctor Kairos nods and steps forward, reaching for the headband. "The memories should cut off once I take this off, Mister Wayne." She says, and fiddles with it for a moment. Behind her, the memory of himself and his father are walking outside. "I hope that wasn't too much for you?"

(The ticking of the machine grows louder, and the memory glitches.)

"No, no." Bruce assures with a smile that wasn't all Brucie Wayne yet. He looks down when he feels Damian's hand curl around his, and his son leans into his side. His smile softens, and he presses Damian closer. His other arm finds itself over Tim's shoulders as well, pressing him to his side.

"It was fine. Actually, it was an honor to be the first to try out your memory machine. I'm sure it will help many people." He tells her. She smiles slyly, and slides the headband off his head.

"That's what I'm hoping for, Mister Wayne." Doctor Kairos places the headband onto the table. The memory hasn't disappeared, Bruce notes with a furrow of his brows. And the audio has muffled slightly.

"I thought you said that the memory would cut off when the headband was off?" He asks. Kairos looks at him, and then behind her at the memory. She frowns.

"It should have--"

Little Bruce suddenly frowns, and looks away from Thomas. "Do you hear that?"

Bruce frowns. "I don't remember this." That wasn't in his memory. They just went straight to Monarch Theater without any issue.

Thomas looks down at his son, "What noise?" He asks, squeezing Bruce's hand. His head cranes, as if trying to hear whatever noise Bruce was hearing.

"That ticking sound." Bruce's frown deepens, "It sounds like your clock, dad."

Thomas' immediately frowns, looking so strikingly like Bruce that he marvels for a moment. He looks around as well. "...You're right. I hear it too." He steps a little closer to Bruce, his hand tightening around his.

A sense of unease fills Bruce's lungs. "What's going on?" He asks, taking a step away from the memory. This was different. This isn't his memory.

"I'm not sure." Doctor Kairos says, and her unsurety sounds so practiced and calm that Bruce's suspicion levels to her immediately. His boys look at her too with the same unease. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

She strides around the memory to the side of the machine just as a gold symbol appears on the ground. It looks like a giant roman clock, and a loud, clunky ticking fills the room.

The memories see it too, and Bruce's heart drops to his feet as he and the rest of the crowd back away from it. "Dad, what is that?!" Little Bruce exclaims, a look of fear morphing across his face as he suddenly clings to his dad's leg.

Thomas looks pale, looking at his feet and gripping little Bruce to him protectively. "I don't-- I don't know, Bruce."

(A memory that Bruce doesn’t have is his father arguing with a man named Clockwork. He does not see the man named Clockwork all but beg Thomas not to go out tonight.)

("Does something happen to Bruce?" His father asks the ghost.)

("No," the man says, "but--")

("But nothing, Clockwork." Thomas, once Danny, says firmly. "My son has been looking forward to this all week. I'm not going to crush his hopes by changing my mind last minute.")

("Thomas, please.")

("Look, if something happens tonight, I will handle it, okay?" Thomas assures him, a hand atop Clockwork's shoulder with a small smile. "I promise.")

(And then he leaves, Clockwork defeated in his wake.)

(Clockwork has seen this boy grow up from the shadows, and now he can do nothing to stop his fate like he once did before.)

The strange, clock-like circle, something intrinsically magic, begins to glow. The minute and hour hands tick faster and faster. Little Bruce holds onto his father like a lifeline, and Thomas Wayne crouches down to hold his son tighter, protectively.

Bruce Wayne turns away just as the light grows blinding, tucking Tim and Damian into his chest like a human shield. There is yelling and screams as the crowd tries to stampede away from it.

Bruce has no idea what this light will do, but he'd rather die than let his sons get hurt.

The light burns his eyelids even when he isn't facing it. And when it dies without even a burn across his back, Bruce slowly unfurls. His hands stay on his sons' shoulders, keeping them close to him, and he peers over his shoulder.

There on his knees, is Thomas Wayne, curled protectively around eight year old Bruce Wayne, much like Bruce had been. Bruce holds his breath, and his sons slowly unfurl themselves as well and peer around him.

Thomas Wayne is frozen in place for one second, two seconds, three. And then he begins to move. First, the tension drains out of his shoulders, and his head jerks, as if surprised that nothing has happened.

He looks up, his eyes open, and he and Bruce make eye contact. Bruce cannot breathe, and he cannot believe the sight before him. It's just the memory machine breaking. (Doctor C.W Kairos is nowhere to be found.)

And then recognition flickers in his father's face as his panting slows and quiets. His head tilts to the side like a fawn's, a familiar wrinkle appearing before his brows.

"Bruce?"

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp crossover #danny fenton is thomas wayne au #dftw au #oh my gfod this is so long #watercolour-carnations how does it feel to have singlehandedly revitalized my brainrot over this au #the fastest way to starry's heart is through their askbox #anyways i was thinking about this the whole time #the memory with clockwork was SUPPOSED to be seen by bruce honestly!#but i couldnt write it in properly #imo at least #io had to check the wordcount on this and this is THREE THOUSAND WORDS #OOPS I ACCIDENTALLY WROTE A 3k WORD ONESHOT #YOU KNOW. AS YOU DO

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swiss-mrs · 3 months

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Theater Kid

Rating: PG-13, Pure Fluff, All Major Characters are 18+ (Seniors in HS)

Reader/OC Description: Reader is African American/Mixed. Reader’s Hair is Usually Braided. Body shape/type is not detailed.

Synopsis: Being known as part of the designated nerd squad didn't leave Dave in the best light at school, but some nerds are more acceptable than others, specifically pretty, talented ones.

Warnings(?): Minimal Adult Language, Not Much Kick-Ass, Just a Whole Lotta Awkward Teenage Dave, Reader’s Parents are described (Mom is Black, Dad is Ambiguous), but They Are Not Explicitly Labeled Biological. Reader’s Parents are Not Together, but They Have a Healthy-ish Parent-Daughter Relationship. Somewhat of a Lengthy Play/Musical Description.

This is written in second POV, but No Use of Y/N.

Musical Soundtrack

Dave stood in the hall, staring at a particular poster on the school's bulletin board. ‘Millard Fillmore High Presents The Hunchback of Notre Dame’. Just underneath the word ‘Staring’, he saw your name listed second. He vaguely remembers seeing the Disney cartoon as a kid and recalls Esmeralda as one of his sexual awakenings, but that was about it. Of course, that's who you were staring as.

Dave was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the jocks who he clearly caught the attention of. As they passed, one of them snuck up behind Dave and threw a basketball at the back of Dave’s head, knocking his glasses right off his face. A chorus of laughter could be heard behind him. Dave rubbed the back of his head, bending down to pick up his glasses. The laughter was cut short by the sound of a loud smack and a rogue basketball.

“Oh no! Are you okay?” A feminine voice rings through, grabbing the attention of everyone in the hall. “You're not hurt are you?” Dave's eyes adjust as he puts back on his glasses and looks over to the commotion, finding the guy who hit him on the floor with a bewildered look on his face. Above him stood you, clutching your textbooks to your chest.

“Uh, yeah, no. I'm cool. Just…tripped?” He replies, looking around as if he'll find the reason he's suddenly on the tile floor.

“Be more careful, stupid.” You say with an innocent pout before walking off, in the direction of Dave. The jock’s buddies and a couple other students laugh at him as he scrambles to his feet. They all continue down their path in your opposite direction. Dave thinks he's hallucinating for a second, but you seem to be waking straight for him. “Are you okay?” Your voice carries a tone different from the one it held earlier. It was softer, genuine. Dave stares at you wide eyed like you've just seen through his power of invisibility. The pause between you was long, long enough for your face to contort further with concern. “Hello?” You wave a hand in front of his face, the other hand still gripped tightly around your books. Dave blinks rapidly for a few seconds. “Wow, he hit you pretty hard.” you say sadly.

“You- You saw that?” He says starstruck. You scoff.

“Of course. Why do you think I tripped him?” You retort, putting your hand down, letting it fall at your side. Dave stared at you, gaping. There's no way. Not only are you acknowledging his existence, you're talking to him. Not only that, but you also stood up for him. What? “Jeez, I think he might’ve given you a concussion. Let's get you checked out.” You place a gentle hand on his shoulder, turning him slowly and leading him to the nurses office. The short walk there was spent in silence with Dave staring down at you, you occasionally looking up to him with concerned eyes. As soon as you both walk through the doorway of the office, your name rings out from the nurse herself. The graying brunette rounds the corner of her desk and greets you.

“How ya doin, superstar? You alright?” You let out a sigh of a laugh and return her soft smile.

“Hi, Nurse Patty. I'm perfectly fine.” You look up at Dave and pat his shoulder, his eyes still on you. “This guy on the other hand.” You look back to the nurse. “That jerk, Matthew, hit him pretty hard on the back of the head with a basketball. I'm just concerned. Do you mind checking him out real quick?” Nurse Patty glances up at the taller boy.

“Not a problem at all.” She replaces your hand with hers, “Right this way, kiddo.” She says guiding him to one of the private rooms. His eyes continue to follow you as he is led away. Patty notices and calls you over, keeping you from leaving. She sits him down on a bench and starts rummaging through her tool drawers.

“Yes, Ms. Patty?” You reply, coming to her call but staying in the doorway of the room.

“Would you mind staying here for a few while I do his check up?” You open your mouth to protest as the bell rings, announcing tardiness for the current class period. “I'll get you a slip.” She says before you could counter, giving you a knowing look. She holds a suspiciously smug expression on her face. You scrunch together your brows and squint your eyes at her. You don't know what she's up to, but you can't help but let a small smile creep onto your lips. Her aging features were just too cute to decline, her plump cheeks pushed up even further by her grin.

You shrug it off, breaking eye contact with her, and silently make your way over to the metal chair in the corner of the room. You place your backpack on the floor next to you and let your textbooks rest on your lap. You look up to catch Dave still staring at you, but this time his eyes quickly avert your gaze, a warm blush dancing across his face. Patty grabs his attention.

“Alright, hun. I'm gonna do a few tests, just follow as best you can.” She starts, beginning to run through the series of minimally invasive tests. It takes a few minutes, but each chance he got, he would sneak a glance at you. You were sat there, watching him. God, you were just so pretty. Your hair was braided away from your face, the loose braids in the back gathered into a messy bun, a few strands sticking out strategically. You had one braid framing the front of your face, of which Dave desperately wanted to move behind your ear as an excuse to touch your face. You wore black leggings that flared out at the bottom, falling over your dirty and well-loved black and white converse. You had a large black hoodie that was half zipped up in the front. He found it cute how the sleeves of your hoodie constantly fell passed your hands and the legs of you pants seemed just an inch too long, constantly getting caught under the back of you shoes. He mindlessly completed each task he was half paying attention to.

“Welp, seems like you're just fine, young man.” Patty interrupts his trance. “Maybe he's just lovestruck.” She chuckles. Both you and Dave look at her wide eyed, but she pretends not to notice and continues with her tasks. This time when your eyes meet, you both quickly look away with heated faces. She walks out of the room and to her desk. You quickly gather your things and follow suit. You and Dave nearly trap each other in the door frame, neither of you wanting to be left alone in the awkward silence. Dave takes a step back and silently motions for you to exit first, mumbling an apology.

“Alrighty, my dears.” Patty says, eyes still trained down as she scribbles on two pink slips. She looks up at you two, standing side by side on the other side of her desk. She hands one slip to you and one to Dave. “Here ya go!” She looks over at Dave, “If you notice any worsening symptoms, come back to see me.” She turns to you, “Thank you for bringing him in, sweetheart. It was a pleasure to see you as always.” She gives you a sweet smile and wiggles her brows. You squint at her. That was suspicious. Dave mutters a small thank you, and you give her a smile, still squinting at her. You exchange your goodbyes, and you and Dave file out of the office. You both start walking in the same direction to your next class. You look up at him as you walk, his eyes scanning over the pink slip.

“You sure you're alright?” You break the silence. Dave jumps as if he didn't realize you were still walking beside him. His eyes dart back and forth between you and every other thing in the empty corridors.

“Uh- Yeah, I'm ok. Thanks.” He says, subconsciously rubbing the back of his aching head. “It's just a bit tender, but I'll be fine.” He drops his hand back to his side, his hand grazing yours. He flinches away, apologizing. You let out a scoff of a laugh, giving him a curious look. He’s so odd. He continues to avoid your stare as you squint at the side of his head. “Why’d you help me?” The strange question breaks your stare, taking you off guard.

“Uh… well,” It was now your turn to struggle to find words. “That’s a weird question…” You turn your head, looking forward as you two slowly make your way down the empty hall. You shrug, “What was I supposed to do? Just let some jackass be a bully without consequence? Don’t think so.” You raise a brow and hold your head high. You notice out of the corner of your eye that it is now Dave’s turn to stare at your profile. “Why are you so surprised that someone stepped in?”

“No one ever does.” He shrugs. The way that sentence rolls off so easily and nonchalantly pierces your heart, and you glance over to him before switching your gaze to the ground with a heavy feeling in your chest. Dave looks down shyly, running his fingers up and down his backpack straps nervously, “And, you know, you’re, well, you.” You are taken aback. You look up to him with furrowed brows, confused, wondering if you should be offended or not.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask. Dave stutters, trying to find the right words.

“Well… I mean... You know... You’re just so… Uh…” He huffs out an uncomfortable, humorless laugh, gripping to his backpack straps for dear life. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” He lets out a sigh, “You’re just, you know, really pretty, and, uh, kinda popular, and I, uh, I guess it’s just a bit of a shock that someone of your… status?... would give me the time of day, let alone stand up for me.” You tried not to focus on the fact that he just called you pretty. You look down at your feet.

“That’s sad…” You say just above a whisper. You look up at him. “I’m sorry I never stepped in sooner. I mean,” You look back ahead of you, “I’ve never been one to watch idly while douchebags try to run things, but I guess they’re just a little more well behaved when they realize they’re around me.” You shrug and look down, ashamed.

“No, no, no! Don’t blame yourself! I’m not blaming you. I just…” he lets out a heavy sigh, looking down, defeated. “I finally get a chance to talk to you, and I’m really screwing this up right now.” He says out loud, more to himself. He glances over to you, nearly tripping over his own feet when he sees the wide eyed, innocent, kicked puppy look on your face. He quickly steadies himself as you slow to a stop.

“Finally get to talk to me?” you look up at him confused. You turn to face him, he does the same. He curses under his breath.

“I need to learn how to keep my thoughts in my head.” He says nervously. “I just, uh… I’ve… admired you?... for, like, a while now.” You avoid eye contact, eyes darting wildly, “I mean, your performances are always so fantastic!” he backpedals, a bit louder than intended. You let out a soft sigh of laughter.

“Well, thank you. I’m actually headed to the theater right now.” You say and point to the door behind him.

“Oh!” He jumps out of the way. He glances through the small window and is met with the sight of some kids in mismatched capes ‘fighting’ with plastic swords. It genuinely looked like an easygoing, fun (and slightly nerdy) environment. Dave felt a small pang of longing in his chest, wishing he had a group to belong to like this.

“Will you come see the musical? It’s the largest production of the year, and we only get to do one of these every two years. It’ll be my best performance. I promise.” You grin up at him.

“Of course!” He says a bit too quickly. “I- I can’t wait.” He says, trying to redeem his everly excited exclamation from earlier.

“Good. I’m excited. Esmeralda is like my dream casting. I have to nail every show. Do her justice.” You look straight ahead with a happy yet determined expression. Dave finds your determination utterly adorable. He looks at you longingly.

“I can't wait.” He sighs out in an almost whisper. You switch your gaze to him and smile brightly.

“I’ll save you a ticket.” Daves brows shoot up. “See you around, Dave.” you say before opening up the door. The class erupts with a chorus of dramatic, accusing ‘ooo’s at your presence, mocking your tardiness. You hold up your pink slip with a smirk, getting a couple of playful scoffs and eyerolls, the class half upset they don’t get to see you get in trouble. Dave stands there even after the door shuts behind you, awestruck. You… You know his name? You know his name!

Dave breaks out of his trance by the sound of the final bell to dismiss class. None of the kids in the theater room actually leave as they all have a theater club immediately after school, but the rest of the classes are soon to empty, flooding the hallway. Dave looks around him, ignored by everyone passing by. His face lights up. He couldn’t think of a better way he could’ve spent his final period of the day than by getting to talk with you alone. He carries a happy grin on his face as he makes his way down the hall to meet up with Todd and Marty. You know his name.

》》》

Tonight is opening night. Tonight is opening night! Dave didn’t even bother leaving the school that day. He didn’t even care that he had 4 hours to kill afterwards. He wanted to be the first person in the theater to ensure he had the perfect seat. He even gave a half-assed excuse, so he can ditch Marty and Todd. They already made a comment, questioning him for wearing one of his ‘nice shirts’ to school today. Thankfully, they didn’t see the flowers he hid in his locker. He didn’t need them making fun of him ‘simping’ over the female lead of the school musical.

He spent hours in the school library, reading and rereading his favorite spiderman comic he kept on him. He finished all his homework and eventually moved from comics to doodling in his notebook. He started out by sketching himself in his ‘Kick-Ass’ costume, but his pencil soon switched over to doodling a girl with varying braided hairstyles, even sketching his cartoon version of you with ‘Kick-Ass’, drawing out his dreams of sweeping you off your feet like Peter did with MJ.

His eyes found the clock hanging on the library wall, and he decided it was time to pack up and head down to the school’s theater. Though it was 30 minutes prior to showtime, there were already people gathering by the theater entrance. Some were students, some seemed to be parents. Dave noticed a dark-skinned woman with long straight braids and a hot pink beret talking excitedly to a dark haired man. She was standing and talking with her hands while the man sat on a nearby bench, seemingly ignoring her and focusing on reading through the laminated playbill. “I can’t believe my baby gets to play her dream part in her senior year! My girl is so talented!” She squeals excitedly, causing the man to wince at her loudness. “Aren’t you just so proud of her?” She smacks the man’s plaid sleeve covered arm. He looks up at her annoyed.

“Of course, I’m proud of her. She’s a natural talent, and she’s flourishing. I’m just not as hyper as you.” He quips, almost offended by the question. The woman scoffs and rolls her eyes, killing her mood.

“Boy, whatever. Maybe you should try to be a little less depressed looking.”

“I’m here for my daughter. She knows good and well I am happy for her.” He retorts, going back to busing himself with the playbill.

These were your parents, Dave realizes. His heart pumps hard in his chest as he passes them. It’s not like he needs to go up and introduce himself. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend. Jesus, you couldn’t even be considered friends, barely acquaintances. His panicked thoughts are interrupted by the sliding of the box office shade opening, the student behind the glass announcing the booth’s opening.

A group of 5 students who were obviously together were first to line up and get tickets. Next was your parents. Behind them was a single, balding man with glasses holding a clipboard and tablet, probably someone’s dad? David guessed. Dave lined up just behind him. The line quickly moves up, and he finally gets to the glass. “Just one, please.” He says shyly.

“That’ll be $7, please. Name?”

“Dave? Dave Lizewski.” He says, more so coming out as a question. He reaches in to hand the brunette his cash.

“Oh! Nevermind!” The student says, looking up from her paper. “Here.” She takes a ticket and a playbill, handing it through the hole in the glass barrier. “You already have a ticket saved for you.” Dave’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, taking the ticket from her.

“Th-thanks.” He says shyly. She gives him a kind, customer service-y smile, and he walks off, heading into the theater.

The house lights were warm and dim, just bright enough to find a seat without tripping over anything. Dave noticed the group of friends that were first took up most of the front row, off to the left of the stage. Your parents were 3rd row back and centered. The man he saw earlier was seated at the end of the aisle, not far from the entrance, busying himself on his tablet. Dave decided to pick a happy medium, choosing a seat in the middle, two rows behind your parents. It gave him a perfect view. He was far enough to view the entire stage without straining his neck but not too far that he would have to strain his eyes to see. Perfect.

It didn’t take long for the theater to fill up. The seats right next to Dave remained empty, but besides that, the theater seemed nearly sold out. Dave felt a slight pang of pride. His girl who isn’t quite his girl brought this kind of crowd? Of course she did. She deserves it. The lights began to dim, and the theater began to silence. Slow claps and cheers started as the spotlight grew to show some of the choir students walking onto the stage. They were dressed in old looking robes. As they walked out, they began singing in Latin harmonies. Dave sat back in his chair ready to be fully immersed in the story. He recognized the two boys who came out next as one senior and one junior in the drama club. The spotlight brightened on another senior boy and then two girls, keeping this same pattern as each individual sung their lines.

As the prologue comes to completion, the introduction to an adult hunchback begins. The lyrics strike a chord with Dave. He feels sorry for the character. He’s already fully immersed in the play before you even appear on stage, growing a jealous dislike for the Captain.

The guy who played him was a senior, Andrew Samonsky. A tall and handsome dirty blonde with hazel eyes. He recalls overhearing some of his female classmates gushing over him. He fit this Captain character well, overconfident and a little douchey.

Not long after the Captain’s introduction, you finally appear, popping out of the crowd of actors on stage. You start dancing with your tambourine. Dave’s heart dropped to his stomach. Your usual braided style was replaced by long black and brown waves that fell just passed your waist. He noticed the chunky waves were mixed with braids, giving you what Dave associated with a bohemian goddess look. He sat up in his chair as soon as he saw you, entranced by your dance moves and angelic voice. Your teasing and playful act made his heart flutter.

Soon your first proper solo came, ‘God Help The Outcasts’ you’d sing. The message of the song, your voice, and your emotion nearly brought tears to Dave’s eyes. He was thanking the powers that be in the back of his mind that Marty and Todd didn’t tag along with him. He would never live this down. His heart only wrenched further when your duet with Quasimodo came. Not once in his life had he regretted his decision to quit choir back in middle school, but right now? He never regretted anything more. Dave desperately wished he could be up there with you, sharing these moments, up close and personal.

The entire play was spent with his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. He was focused hard on the story and on your performance, especially at the turn of the story. His chest burned and his brows grew closer together when he realized you, well Esmeralda, were being hunted down for being such an angel, all because some religious, rapey dickhead couldn’t keep it to himself.

When your song with the Captain came, he felt another pang of jealousy, not liking that your story was being driven into a love triangle. He wanted you to end up with Quasimodo. Give him a chance. He needed you to end up with Quasimodo.

Dave was genuinely taken aback when you were caught. Things were no longer looking up, and he didn’t like it. He was frustrated. There’s no way you don’t get a happy ending.

Your next big song came, ‘Someday’. You sang with such sadness. There was this dark and contradicting mixture of hope and hopelessness. Man, Dave was really grateful for his lone attendance. He was really tearing up now. Even though he wasn’t a fan of that Andrew guy getting to hold you, your heartfelt performance was too emotional for him to get taken out of the moment. Even from where he sat, he could see tears welling up in your own eyes. As the song came to a close, Dave took a deep breath, blinking his tears away. He looked around him, preemptively embarrassed for crying in public, but the embarrassment quickly dissipated when he realized he wasn’t the only one affected. Several faces in the crowd were damp with tears of others who let them fall freely. Dave sat back, sighing as he gathered himself. He focuses his eyes back on the stage, allowing himself to get drawn back in by the hunchback’s defeated solo.

Dave resonated with the scared, misunderstood character, but god, he wanted to smack the shit out of him and yell at him to go save you. He watched as you held a brave face, tied to a stake, ready to burn. His body flourished with violent fire. He wanted to kill that creepy ass priest, his leg shaking anxiously as he watched the finale. Finally. He mentally thanked the hunchback for ridding the fictional world of that asshole. His leg ceased its movements and sat idly as the story closed. You were badly hurt, weakened from the flames. You were dying. Dave frowned, quickly losing all anger. All of it was quickly replaced by a wave of sadness as he watches your limp body get lifted up by the hunchback and carried to the back, disappearing off stage. You died.

Dave listened solemnly as the story came to an end. Slowly, the actors on stage filed off the stage in lines as they sang their final melodies. The crowd erupted in loud claps and cheers, giving a standing ovation.

The choir of townspeople and background characters reappeared back on stage first, then the gargoyles, then the gypsies, then the lead fool/gypsy guy, Clopin. After him was the senior who played Frollo, still dressed in his old man get up, then Andrew aka Captain Pheobus. For him, lots of high pitched cheers could be heard, Andrew’s little fanclub. Then, finally, it was your turn.

You came out, walking side by side, down the middle of the stage, with the senior who played Quasimodo. The crowd gave you both a long, loud cheer. He could hear your mother’s, “That’s my baby!” above the rest. It brought a small smile to his face. He joined in, letting out a loud ‘woo!’. Dave never raised his voice, so the sensation was a bit unfamiliar, but he had no regrets and didn’t hold back. He had an overwhelming feeling of pride supporting you. He watched you and the shorter, brown haired boy next to you bow with big smiles on your faces. You took the hands of your neighboring actors and lifted your arms, the entire cast bowing in unison.

The cheers went on as the cast exited the stage and the house lights came back on. As Dave was dead center, he didn’t have anyone waiting on him. He sat back down and waited for his row to empty. He was one of the last people out, your parents not far behind him. He smiled, laughing under his breath, hearing your mother gush over your performance. Even though he couldn’t see him, he could tell your dad was probably trying his best to ignore the woman.

As soon as he makes it outside the theater and back into the halls. He debates on whether or not he should just leave or if he should wait around and see if he can find you. Some of the audience has mostly dispersed, but a few parents and students hang around, waiting for the cast to empty into the halls. Dave comes up with a quick plan. He’ll wait.

He sits on a bench, close enough to spot you when you come out from backstage, but far enough that he can make a quick exit if things start to look like he won’t be welcome. A few feet away, he notices your dad finds a seat on the bench next to the theater, the same one he sat at earlier.

Daves looks down at his backpack and opens it up, pulling out the assortment of flowers he brought you. Thankfully, they weren’t too squished. He sat, bouncing his leg as he waits. About 15 minutes go by, and most of the people in the hall have left by now, their friends and family members already appeared from backstage. The crowd had dwindled down to about 8 people, Dave, your parents, a redheaded girl with an older couple, and two other girls. Dave didn’t realize, but your mom had passed by him a minute ago to use the bathrooms that were just on the other side of him. “Look at all that beautiful hair!” Dave looks up to find your mom walking toward him with a big smile, exiting from the ladies restroom. His brows raise, and he points a finger at himself. “Yes, you. Oh my goodness. I love your curls. You are so handsome, and those eyes!” She holds out a hand towards him but restrains herself from the urge to reach out and touch his hair. She purses her smiling lips, squinting at him. “You don’t have a girlfriend do you?” She asks, pointing at the flowers in his hands. He smiles shyly, her squinting eyes reminding him of you. You definitely must get that habit from your mother. He chuckles awkwardly and shakes his head.

“No, ma’am.”

“And a gentleman, too? Good! My daughter is single, you should meet her. You definitely seem like her type.” She exposes, laughing a little. “She’s a sucker for nerdy boys with curly hair and glasses.” She continues. Dave’s heart flutters, and his shocked expression causes your dad to pipe up. Dave looks over at the older man.

“Leave the kid alone. I’m sure our daughter won’t want you playing matchmaker.” He spares an awkward glance over in Dave’s direction. Dave felt a small wave a calm wash over him. Apparently, your dad also shared a little awkwardness, and it strangely brought Dave a sense of comfort. Your dad wasn’t a stereotype hard-ass that would rather die than let Dave near his daughter. Good to know.

Your mom rolls her eyes at your dad’s comment and continues on with the conversation. “Did you enjoy the show?” She asks.

“Y-Yes, ma’am. It was amazing.” That answer seemed to please her.

“Right! It was fantastic! My daughter is the lead. I’m so proud of her. Everyone did so well. She has dreamed of playing this role since forever, and she completely nailed it.” Your mom has a proud smile, and Dave breaths out a laugh, nodding in agreement.

“100%. She did wonderful. Definitely deserves to be on Broadway or something.” He says with a smile.

“I agree! She said there was going to be a scout here, scouting for future talents to qualify for a college scholarship. She wouldn’t stop worrying about tonight. To think she was so nervous and she completely nailed it!” Daves brows shoot up, again. That must’ve been who the guy in front of him in line was. A few squeals interrupt them. The two girls Dave noticed earlier jumped up out of their seats and ran up to you as you round the corner. Those must’ve been friends of yours. Dave allows himself to stare now that all eyes are off him. You were makeup free, fresh faced, and your hair was still wavy and long. You had on a pullover hoodie and leggings similar to the ones you wore the other day. They talked loudly of how great you were, causing you to smile wide and laugh. You turn to your dad, and he gives you a big hug. Dave stands as your mom starts walking over to you.

“Good job, munchkin.” He says calmly. Even Dave could feel the warm sincerity in his voice.

“There’s my superstar!” Your mom shouts, next to give you a big hug, rocking you back and forth. “I knew that wet and wavy crochet look would be perfect!” She adds, touching your hair, causing you to roll your eyes with a small smile.

“Mo-om!” you say in a playfully whiny tone. Dave couldn’t help but smile watching your biggest supporters praise you. He stood back as they all talked about the play and how proud and blown away they were at your performance. You seemed busy, and Dave felt as though he might be intruding, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Instead, he chose to stay back and wait for his turn patiently.

After a couple minutes, your two friends gave you a quick hug, saying something about catching up with you later before leaving. Your parents, your mom more so, continue to talk about how great you were, your dad checking up on you, knowing how nervous you were prior to the performance. You say some reassuring words to him to let him know you’re okay. Just then, you finally look in Dave’s direction. When you catch his gaze, a bright smile breaks out on your face, nearly melting Dave where he stood. Your dad follows your gaze, noticing you tune out your mother’s words, distracted. He notices Dave, the flowers in his hands, and the shy look on his face. Your dad places a hand on your mothers shoulder, effectively shutting her up as this was out of the norm for him.

“We’ll be waiting for you up front, munchkin.” He says, gently ushering your mom away. She was confused and a bit offended at first, that was until she followed your dad’s gaze, quickly getting the message. She bites back a knowing smile and reiterates your dad’s words.

“Good job, sweetie.” She gives you a kiss on the cheek before they both walk away. As they walked away, another squeal broke out. The redheaded girl from earlier runs up to Captain Andrew himself, jumping into his arms and giving him a kiss, what Dave presumes are his parents walking up to the guy shortly after. Dave refocuses his attention to you as you close the distance between you two.

“Hi.” You say shyly, biting your smile. Dave studders.

“H-Hi.” You two stare at each other for a few seconds before he breaks the trance, looking down at the flowers in his hands. He shoves them abruptly into your arms, the sudden movement taking you aback. You allow your smile to grow as your eyes dart back and forth from the flowers to an awkward Dave.

“Thanks, Dave.” You laugh out in a sigh, biting your bottom lip as you smile down at the flowers.

“Your problem!” He says a little too loud. Your smile falters slightly, and your jaw drops a little.

“What?” You laugh out, confused.

He stammers “Uh, no, uh- shit.” he curses under his breath before letting out an awkward laugh. “I- I, uh, I couldn’t decide between saying ‘You’re welcome’ and ‘no problem’, and it came out as ‘Your problem’. I’m so sorry.” He rambles on nervously, a horrified look on his face. You giggle and shake your head.

“Do you have this hard of a time talking to all girls or just me?” You look up at him with an amused look on your face, trying to contain your smile. He smiles shyly, looking down.

“Technically, all girls, but you’re special.” he sways awkwardly, shifting his weight from side to side, glancing over his glasses at you. You lose control of your smile and allow it to grow so wide it scrunches your nose and narrows your eyes, lighting up his world.

“You know, if you keep making comments like that, I think you’ll break some hearts.” You say, leaning in to nudge his arm with your shoulder. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to break hearts. There’s only one I’m after.” Your brows shoot up, a shocked and impressed expression on your face.

“Wow, you’re a quick learner.” You laugh out. “That’s a good one.” You and Dave share a short laugh.

“Thanks.” He looks back down, all boldness leaving his body. A male voice interrupts your moment, Felipe the Janitor. He’s always been nice to Dave.

“Alright, we gotta start locking up.” The short, chubby man motions for all of you to start heading to the front doors. Dave quickly picks his backpack up from the floor and slides it on, the other four people walking to the front a few feet ahead, you and Dave following not far behind.

“So…” You start, Dave’s eyes finding you, “you got any plans after this?” You ask, looking down shyly at your flowers. Dave shakes his head, shoving his hand in his pockets.

“No, not really. Probably, just gonna go straight home.” he admits, opening the door for you as you two make it out of the front doors and into the crisp night air.

“You gonna catch a ride with your boy, babe?!” Your mom yells over to you from her car, halfway out the driver’s seat. Your eyes widen in embarrassment.

“MOM!” She raises her hands in surrender and sinks back into the car. Your dad could be seen shaking his head in his car, parked right next to hers. You wince and look over to Dave.

“Sorry about that.” You let out a big sigh.

“It’s okay. Your mom is actually really nice.” He says. Your face drops.

“My mom talked to you?” You ask, horrified. He chuckled.

“Yeah, just for a little bit after the show while we were waiting for you.” He held a small smirk, deciding not to bring up the little secret she shared with him about your ‘type’. You close your eyes and shrink a bit, wincing.

“Oh no.” You strain out, with a frown. He lets out another chuckle.

“Nothing bad. I promise.” He looks over at your parents as they wait. “I don’t want to keep them waiting for you. I don’t actually have a car.” He admits. You lose all embarrassment and look at him with furrowed brows.

“You’re walking? This late?” You ask in disbelief. He shrugs.

“Yeah, it’s how I get around.” You scoff and shake your head.

“Yeah, no. You’re riding with me.” You say firmly. “I’m not just gonna let you walk.” Before he can protest, you’re grabbing his arm and dragging him behind you towards your mom’s car. You let go of his arm as soon as you guys are across the lot and in front of your parents’ cars. You walk around to your dad’s driver’s side. He gave you another ‘good job’ and a ‘smell you later, munchkin’. You gave him a quick ‘thank you for coming’ and ‘goodnight’ before walking over to your mom’s car. “Hey, mom? Can we give Dave a ride? He’s on foot.” You tell her, and she is quick to gasp.

“Of course!” She looks at him through the windshield, “Get in, babe!” You look back at Dave as you round the car and wave him over. You get into the passenger’s side, and he sides into the backseat.

“Thank you, ma’am.” She waves a dismissive hand.

“Don’t mention it. What do I look like letting a little boy walk home alone at this time of night. It’s cold out!” She replies. Your dad pulls out of the lot first, your mom following behind him. Your mom turns on the radio, playing one of her favorite CDs, Mariah Carrey’s ‘The Emancipation of Mimi’ album. “Sing it, baby!” She says to you. Dave chuckles from the backseat and looks over at your shrinking form in the passenger seat.

“Mom, please.”

“She used to sing to this album as a little girl right in that seat. Every morning to school. No wonder she’s got such a beautiful voice. She was born singing along to Mariah.” Dave can barely see you anymore. You’re shrunken down so much. Dave can’t help but smile at your embarrassment. You were just too cute. “Are you going to the after show party too or am I taking you home, young man?” Dave looks over the passenger seat to get a better look at you. You look over your shoulder at him.

“After every opening show of our performances, we usually gather at Brandy’s house and throw a bonfire. I was going to ask if you wanted to join earlier…” You trailed off, giving him a look, silently asking if he wanted to go.

“I-I wouldn’t want to intrude.” He says. You sit up properly and turn to face him a bit more.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re welcome to join if you want to. ” You look down shyly, “But, I understand if you’d rather go home. It has been a long day after all.”

“I’ll go.” Dave rushes out. Your mom looks at him through the rearview mirror with a knowing look. You look back up to him with a hopeful smile.

“Yeah?” He nods. “Great!” You turn back around in your seat. “To Brandy’s, mom!”

“You got it.”

The rest of the drive was spent with your mom belting out Mariah as best as she could, you humming some of the songs to yourself as you looked out the window. Dave watched you the whole 15-minute ride there. The only time Dave takes his eyes off you is when you pull up to Brandy’s house. It was a stand alone, two story house, easily a multimillion dollar property. He shouldn’t be surprised, Brandy Radke was a well-known, wealthy kid. “Here we are.” Your mom announces, pulling up right along the curb to let you and Dave out. “I know you will probably catch a ride with your friends after, but let me know when and if I need to pick you up, and don’t get into any trouble.” Your mom calls after you through the rolled down window as you and Dave exit the car.

“Thanks, mom!” You shout back before grabbing Dave’s hand and leading him up Brandy’s front porch. You knock on the door, and an older lady opens the door, yelling your name and bringing you into a tight hug.

“Glad you could make it, leading lady!” The woman releases you and looks over to Dave with a smile, “And who is this?”

“This is Dave. He came to support me tonight, and I thought I’d bring him as my plus one. Hope that’s okay.” You reply. Dave looks down at your interlocked hands.

“Of course! You know we always have extra food!” She moves out of the door frame gesturing for you both to enter. “Everyone is already in the backyard.” You thank her as you pass, leading Dave through the house. Dave looks around as he’s being pulled, enamored by the nice interior. This was moons away from his place. As soon as you two reach the screen door leading into the backyard, loads of cheers could be heard, the group of teenagers chanting your name.

“There’s our Esmeralda!” A strawberry blonde girl with wavy locks down her back stands up and starts walking over.

“Hey Brandy!” You go in to hug each other. Dave misses the touch of your hand as soon as it leaves.

“Who’d you bring with you?” She turns to face Dave with a curious look on her face.

“This is Dave. Dave, meet Brandy.” The green eyed girl greets him. Dave was already well aware of who Brandy Radke is, but, of course, she had no idea who he was, even though they had two classes together.

“Hi.” He returns.

“Well, make yourself at home, girly!” She gestures, heading back over to her spot around the fire. You start walking over to an empty spot, grabbing one fold out chair and placing it next to another, Dave following like a lost puppy. You take a seat and look up at him with a smile, patting the empty chair beside you. He does as you command and sits down. As soon as he’s sat, Mrs. Radke appears seemingly out of nowhere, startling Dave. She hands a plate of grilled food and a canned drink to each of you before disappearing back into the house to chat it up over a beer with the small group of adults inside.

“Oh, hell yeah.” You say over your food before placing the can in the cup holder of your chair. Dave looks over at you, watching you take a bite. You hum. “I am starving. This really hits the spot.” You giggle shyly when you notice his stare. He smiles, mimicking your actions. He hums as he tastes his first bite, nodding.

“Oh, yeah.” He chuckles. “This is amazing.” You both share a laugh with stuffed cheeks.

An hour passes quickly with Dave watching you interact with your fellow castmates, friends, and friends of friends. Suddenly, someone calls out to him. “So,” He looks over to find none other than Andrew Samonsky looking at him, his arm draped over the shoulders of the redhead from earlier. “Since when was Dave Lizewski into musical theater? I thought you were just a comic and science nerd.” He teases.

“Oh come on. We’re theater kids. We’re all nerds.” You but in, glaring at Andrew with a raised brow. The corners of Andrew’s lips tilt down and he raises his hands in surrender.

“No harm, no foul. I’m just askin’.” You squint at him, daring Andrew to try something. Dave speaks up.

“Well,” He looks over to you, “I was invited to the show,” He pauses before looking back over to Andrew, “and, you know, it would be rude of me not to show.” He concluded.

“Yeah, she saved her one family-friend ticket for him.” A girl adds, he notices her as the one who was running the ticket booth. You were met with a chorus of ‘ooo’s and kissing noises. You shake your head.

“Oh my god, you guys. Shut up.” You roll your eyes and turn your head, looking out to the trees lining the backyard.

“Didn’t your little boyfriend show up, too?” Another kid asked one of the other girls, one Dave recognized as one of the gargoyles. Another round of ‘ooo’s sounded off as everyone got back to talking. You sigh, thankful that the attention was taken off of you two. A sudden wave of confidence hits Dave.

“So,” he says quietly, just enough for you and only you to hear. You turn to look at him. You cock your head to the side, urging him to continue. “Your mom said you like nerdy boys with curly hair and glasses.” He smirks innocently. Your face drops, and you bring your hands up to cover your face.

“Lord have mercy.” You whisper, the words muffled by your hands. Dave chuckles. “I’m so sorry about her.” you drop your hands to your lap. He looks down at your fidgeting hands and fights the urge to grab your hand in his.

“No need…” He pauses, contemplating his next words, “Was- Was she right?” He asks softly, still looking down at our lap. You turn back to the trees, trying to hide your face from him. You were utterly embarrassed.

“What would you do if I said yes?” Dave stills, his long pause feels like a rejection. Your nose started burning. You felt like crying.

“I-” He starts slowly. “I don’t know…” Jesus, he was shit with words. He wanted to punch himself in the face for how bad he was fumbling this.

Your wandering glance at the trees turned into the thousand yard stare, trying to fight your tears off. Dave watched as your hands stilled before gripping tightly to one another. He couldn’t stop himself. Dave reached out and forced his hand in between yours, prying them apart and taking your right hand in his left. He wrapped his fingers around your palm and gave your hand a light squeeze. Your head turned slightly to look at your connected hands. Dave’s heart tightened seeing the nervous and sad look on your face. He sighs. “Look, remember what we established earlier? I’m terrible at talking to girls, and you aren’t just any girl to me.” He ducks down to try and make eye contact with you. “You’re you. You’re the star of Millard Fillmore. You’re going to be a superstar after graduation. You’re- You’re going places, and I’m just… me. Just Dave.” He shrugs. “You deserve the world, so much more than I can give you.” He leans back, still holding your hand. He reaches his other hand up to mindlessly scratch the back of his head. “You don’t know it, but,” He lets out a huff, an awkward laugh. “You’re everything to me, and I- I’m nothing to you. I- I’d just bring you down.” his hand drops to his lap. “You- You don’t want that.” It’s your turn to squeeze his hand.

“Don’t tell me what I want.” You say, determined. You sigh and turn in your seat, facing him as best as you can in your flimsy camping chair. Your eyes dart across his face. “If- If I’m as great as you say, we should try this. Whatever, this,” You gesture between you two, “is.” You pause, sighing. Your eyes flutter in soft, rapid blinks. “I like you Dave. I really do. You’re sweet and cute, and ever since I first saw you walk into our home ec class in sophomore year, I knew, if I had the chance, I’d put on my big girl panties and ask you out.” Dave looked up at you with wide eyes. He could've sworn he was dreaming right now.

The soft glow of the flickering fire danced across your skin, bringing out the richness of your eyes. You looked ethereal. “So,” you started again as you stared into each other’s eyes, “bullshit high school popularity status aside, all fallacies about you aside,” You raise a brow, squinting slightly and giving him a barely there, reassuring smile. “What would you say if I asked you to give me a chance and go out on a date with me?” You searched his eyes. He stared back, surprised at your boldness.

“Yes!” He blurts out, a little louder than expected. Thankfully, the loud conversation and laughter of those around you provided cover, so he didn’t bring much attention to you two. “y-yeah, yeah, yes.” he sighs, trying to calm himself. Your smile grows, bringing light to his world once again. It’s contiguous. He smiles in return, albeit a bit more restrained and shy than yours. You bite your lip, and in the blink of an eye, you lean forward and plant a quick kiss on his cheek. It happened so quickly that Dave thought he hallucinated the interaction. He blinks a few times, eyes following as you lean back in your seat, avoiding his eyes and blushing. Dave’s face breaks out on a huge, dorky grin. He leans down and plants a quick kiss on your cheek as well in a wave of confidence and excitement. Your eyes widen, and you bite back your smile. Dave mimics your posture, slowly leaning back into his chair, but he leans back a little too hard, causing the front legs of the flimsy thing to lift off the ground. A split second heart attack occurs, but thanks to his quick reflexes, he leans back forward and catches himself. You can’t help but lose it, breaking out in a hearty laugh. Once Dave regains his composure, he joins in.

You two laugh like maniacs, stuck in your own little, happy world. You get a couple weird looks from the others, but you two ignore them, painfully happy tears brimming your eyes. Your laughter becomes contagious to the strawberry blonde seated a couple feet in front of you. Brandy shakes her head and turns back to face the fire. “You guys are such weirdos.”

This seems very self insert 😅 but idc. let me be. Hope you enjoyed!

As usual, proper moodboard under the fic tag.

P.S. reader's Esmeralda look is giving Doja/Tinashe 2021 MTV VMAs Red Carpet

#dave lizewski swiss fics #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski fanfic #dave lizewski #kickass #dave lizewxki x black reader #kickass x reader #aaron taylor johnson #theater kid swiss fic

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bg-brainrot · 4 months

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Day 8 of the BG3 Holiday Challenge with some found family <3

Prompt: Chosen Family

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Premise: You don’t have any family left in Baldur’s Gate, so when it comes time to celebrate Midwinter, you invite the family you do have: all of your old companions that can make it. Shadowheart, Gale, Halsin, and a few others join you for a meal and gift exchange.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Holidays, post-canon, chosen family, extended family of ragtag adventurers, even volo is included

Word count: ~1.4k

“My dear, I’m afraid that staring at the clock won’t make our guests arrive any faster.” You turn to see Astarion standing at the doorway to your drawing room, holding a stack of letters. He’s dressed impeccably in his holiday best, even sporting a small red poinsettia in his lapel. Initially, he’d resisted the festive addition, but you reminded him that, while mild, a poinsettia is poisonous. Not a moment later the flower had found its way into his outfit.

You’re also adorned festively, a bright branch of holly weaved into your belt. Dressed to impress and ready to party for the Midwinter celebration, all that’s left are your guests– which aren’t due for another ten minutes. You sigh at Astarion’s words, knowing that he’s right. “How else am I supposed to spend the time?”

Astarion walks over to your seat on the coach and hands you half of the stack of letters. “Well, I figured this might be a fantastic opportunity to make sure we had an accurate headcount. In case we need to ask Gale to conjure any chairs.”

You take the letters gratefully and pat the seat next to you. He sits and you begin to sort through the papers. “Good idea, let’s see…” The first letter is from Alfira. It’s a lovely little letter, thanking you for the invitation, detailing her Midwinter plans with Lakrissa, and ending with a short little poem for the holiday. “Alfira already had plans.”

“Oh good,” Astarion says with a small clap. “I don’t think my poor ears could take yet another rendition of the Twelve Days of Midwinter.” He waves the letter in his hand as he follows up with, “Rolan also already had plans, something about Cal and Lia wanting to travel for the holiday.”

“Maybe we should have done that,” you say to Astarion, filled with more dread at hosting a party for your closest friends than you’ve had fighting any monster.

He knows you don’t really mean it, but agrees anyway. “We still have time to escape! I hear the feywild has some lovely weather.”

“How would we get to the feywild?” you ask, taking a look at the next letter in your stack.

“I don’t know, we’d figure it out,” he responds, before rolling his eyes at the letter he’s holding. “Why did you even invite Volo?”

You shrug, honestly unsure what compelled you. “He seems lonely, I guess?”

“Well, he’s still a yes,” Astarion says, grimacing.

“Good, I suppose.” You wave the letter in your hand at him, before adding, “Dame Aylin and Isobel can’t make it. Something about seeing Midwinter's arrival in each others’ arms.”

“But of course. We could have done the same, you know.”

Your love gives you a suggestive look, which you smack with your next letter. “Stop tempting me! I know we can do this, and apparently the guests we do have are looking forward to it. Remember, Gale’s immediate yes? He’s even bringing Tara.”

“Do you suppose she requires her own chair?” Astarion asks, tapping his chin with what could only be Shadowheart’s letter, its writing neat and flowing.

“I think I already took her into account for chairs.” You’re positive you had, lest you offend the great Tara. “Is that Shadowheart’s response? Did she send an update?”

Astarion looks down at the letter, as if he'd forgotten that he was holding it. “Let's see. It says, ‘Don't worry, I'm still able to make it. Is it alright if I bring the owlbear? I wasn't able to find someone to watch him.'"

You stare at Astarion who only stares back. You break the silence to ask the question on both of your minds, "Where will we put him?"

"Perhaps Gale can shrink him for the night?"

"Good idea," you say with a nod and move on to the next letter in your stack. It's a short missive from Dammon. An appreciative message, though he already has Midwinter plans as well. “Dammon was a no.”

Your love smirks, giving you a knowing look. “Likely because Karlach couldn’t make it. Still can’t make it I take it?”

“Karlach and Wyll gratefully declined,” you say, holding up their letter. It’s been written quickly, has some scorched edges, and smells deeply of sulfur– truly no mystery as to why they couldn’t make it. “But Halsin said he would be here.”

"Someone, who I think is Withers, just sent back 'no'. Hmm." Astarion looks at the small piece of parchment containing the singular word and holds it up to you. “Why did you invite Withers? Scratch that, how did you invite Withers?”

You simply raise a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug and say, “It felt rude not to invite him.”

He looks at you for a second, as if pondering whether or not it’s worth digging into the ‘how’ when a knock sounds at the door. “Oh, I suppose our first guest has arrived. Would you like to wager on who it might be?”

“Why bother,” you say with a snort, setting aside the rest of the stack and heading to the door. “We both know it’s Gale.”

Astarion laughs at your confident proclamation, and laughs even harder when you open the door to a smiling wizard, dressed in what can only be considered a holiday robe, lit up with faerie lights. Tara stands next to him, proudly wearing a red ribbon.

“Welcome! Come in, come in,” you say, waving him into your house. Once they’ve entered, you give Gale a hearty hug and Tara a small bow, which she seems to appreciate. After you take his coat and they settle in, Astarion serves them both a drink, a wine for Gale, a bowl of broth for Tara.

You spend some time talking and catching up until your next guests arrive with a soft knock.

At the door is Shadowheart, wearing a markedly less ostentatious holiday outfit, a simple green sweater with silver pants, followed closely by a large owlbear. After a quick bit of magic from Gale, they both make their way inside to warm hugs and their own drinks.

They’re just about sitting down when another knock comes.

The night continues in much the same fashion as Halsin arrives, then Volo, then Jaheira with several of her children in tow. Then, just when you think no one else will arrive, Minsc shows up with Boo wearing a single jolly bell.

The entire group settles in for drinks, food, and merriment, discussing all that they’ve been up to since you’ve last gotten together. The company is lively, the atmosphere warm, and you’re immensely satisfied with the outcome of your efforts as you finally take a seat next to Astarion. You begin to wonder why you were worried about hosting this at all.

Ahead of the party, you hadn’t received a response from Lae’zel. She was likely too busy in the Astral Plane to respond, so you tried not to think too much of it. However, partway through the night you receive a message from her through a Sending spell: “This is Lae’zel. Apologies, I’m indisposed. I’ve been informed Midwinter is a celebration, so consider this my celebratory message.”

You laugh and send your own message back, “Thank you, Lae’zel. Hope to see you for the next one!”

Astarion smiles at you once you relay the message to the group, squeezing your hand in his. He knew you’d been worried about her despite it all, and knowing that she, too, was alive and safe would finally set your mind at ease. And it did– like something that was missing finally clicked into place and you could just breathe.

You knew that not everyone would be able to make it, and you’re still not confident in your hosting abilities, but somehow, you’re still so very content. Something about sitting in a room with your love, your closest friends, and even Volo, fills you with so much hope for the upcoming spring.

When the group lifts their glasses to cheer for all that you’ve accomplished this year, the trials and tribulations you’ve overcome together, you can’t help but add, “And to the family we’ve made along the way. May we always find our way back to one another!”

The night passes in a haze of joy and love– somehow, by the end of it, you've agreed to host again next year. You can feel Astarion's amusement as he chuckles and holds you close.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #rogue + rogue #astarion x reader #bg3holidayfluffle23

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