Omg I'm sooo happy that I found your account, I lllovelovelove your art and I COULD CRY I FOUND HADDOTIN ARTIST OMG. Nowadays is so hard to find people who draws haddotin omgggg! Do you draw nsfw? If not, just ordinary cute snuggle/kissing haddotin art would make me so happy<33
Ohh, thank you so much! 💛 And I’m always up for a bit of tintin fluff. Hope this tiny, incredibly vague comic suffices.
I need more batman media but I don't know what to watch or where to watch it and Netflix took off Young Justice and Justice League :(:( do you have any fic recs or fun facts
to follow if you haven’t already followed them, the first three write FREAKING
AMAZING fanfic and the fourth creates THE BEST fanart I have literally sat and scrolled through these blogs for hours
@camsthisky (good GOSH I love her she writes so much about Dick Grayson)
OH MY GOSH. I
love this story so freaking much. Ok,
imagine if Jason Todd, after coming back from the dead and going through all
that stuff with the Lazarus Pit and training, goes after Dick Grayson to get
his revenge on Bruce. Except when he
shows up at Dick’s apartment, ready to kill the Golden Son, he finds something
completely unexpected. Jason has a lot
of issues, Dick has a lot of issues (courtesy of the Blockbuster incident). I have read and reread this story countless
times, and I can never not cry because I love my broken sons so much. There is a lot of anger, some cursing, much
regret, and brothers being brothers. And Dick is the sweetest most protective [redacted because spoiler] and Jason has a mushy heart after all. It
can stand as complete but I think the author is writing more? Also, either before or after, or both, go to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqeNxdyp5CE
and listen to the song. It is my new
favorite song and CAN YOU IMAGINE DICK SINGING IT OH MY GOSH
3. the road
will only be wide (the rain will never stop falling)
This fic is a quiet moment of beauty and rest for Dick
and Damian. Damian draws, and Dick
watches his talented little bro. There
is sunlight. You skin will clear and
your crops will grow and any heartache you have ever had will be healed like
There is a problem in the Batcave, as in, younger
versions of the Batfam keep turning up.
It’s absolutely fantastic, and one of my favorite things is younger
Jason being SO done with his older self and calling him out on stuff and being all protective of his brothers. It gets better and better with every chapter.
this story is not finished yet and the author takes waaay long to post updates
on it but she has promised not to abandon it soo…It is Nightwing-centric, with
a whole mess of comic Teen Titans making appearances. The author has written a lot of stories about
a world where Dick became a Talon, and in this tale Talon-on-the-run winds up
on Earth-1 and Nightwing is trying to figure out who this apparent clone of his
is. Talon Dick has always intrigued me,
and it is interesting seeing him and Nightwing face off.
HOLY HECK this is one of my favorite Jason Todd fanfics EVER. I love the description by the author “The one
where Dick bleeds a lot and Jason argues with everybody.” Jason is in the wrong spot at the wrong time,
ie. He finds Dick bleeding to death and is forced to save him. Tim and Damian make appearances. Jason has anger issues. That doesn’t stop him from caring. Bruce and Jason hash things out in the most
beautiful (painful) way.
which Dick confronts Damian about his practice of taking weapons to school, and
also gets slightly distracted by the idea of living in a vardo. I love this story because it shows the best
way to parent Damian—not by telling him no “because I said so” but by
explaining and debating things like he is smart and capable.
This is THE BEST Nightwing fan film I have
ever seen. I love the Dick Grayson in it—he’s
got acrobatics, sounds like Jesse McCartney (Robin/Nightwing’s VA in YJ), and is quite handsome. He fights, gets the stuffing beat out of him
and keeps getting back up, has a bit of a temper, loves Barbara—perfection. Watch it, you won’t regret it. (Also Jason is there yay! I will take him in any capacity I can get. And I kinda really like the actor for Bruce?)
My favorite Jason Todd
fanfilm!!! Heavily featuring Tim
Drake! Look this adaption is fab, I love
the actors and the dialogue and the fight between Jason and Tim (spoiler?) As far as I know they are trying to put
together a second episode. Watch the
video where Jason Todd tries to get people to donate money for it, its
3. Batman The Animated Series is on Netflix till
September 1st. I’m in the
second season and love it a lot…Alfred is so freaking sassy!
It’s just five minutes
and doesn’t have any dialogue, and it doesn’t come close to deserving an Oscar, but dang it it’s hard to find Damian stuff…and also seeing a little
kid running around in the Robin costume made me realize that there is nothing I
want more than to see Damian Wayne on the big screen, being all angry assassin
kid, and Dick Grayson capturing him in a hug…
5. Gotham on Netflix
I am pretty sure you already watch this? But if not, DO! It is AMAZING. I love it so much, especially Bruce and Alfred and Selina Kyle
E. Some things from Batman: Dark Victory
Okay I know he is a talented young acrobat and all but how the FUDGE did Dick get up on that chandelier?! the kid can truly fly (yeah yeah, the stairs probably lead up to a hallway floor/balcony that Dick leapt off of but still) I wonder how many grey hairs the kid gave Alfred in those first weeks alone
On dark days I like to remember the time bby birb Dick Grayson caved in the Joker’s cheek with a well-placed kick. My nine or ten year old son then proceeded to smash in the Joker’s teeth with a stick a few minutes later and it was amazing
You think I lied?? Nah my son Dick Grayson was cracking teeth and bones and witty puns from Day 1. Go Robin!!!
Okay so just look at this picture. Bby Dick is SO FREAKING TINY!!! also very intense. OMG Batman’s fists are as big as his first son’s head! *cue a very many feels in my heart*
F. Random things I am including because I feel like it, and they all revolve around Dick Grayson mostly because he is my fave so…
1. Apparently some official websites say that Nightwing’s martial arts specialty is Aikido. I do not think that word means what they think it means
2. “I close my eyes now for a few moments and I can see my parents riding the air current with me. Forever young. Forever strong. Their faces wide with excitement, big smiles on their faces, enjoying the adrenaline surge even more than I do. And there is one thing I am sure of … my parents would be proud of my life.” (Nightwing, Nightwing #141, 2008)
[Talking about Blüdhaven] “It’s a hopeless case. A lost cause. A town so mired in corruption and sin that it’s drowning … When Batman sent me here, I thought I’d solve one case and book. But then I realized … if I could make a difference here – well, that’d be something. This filthy old town needs me…. Surrounded by a dozen of my worst enemies. No way out. Nowhere to hide. The little brat was right. I do love it. (Nightwing, Nightwing Secret Files #1, 1999)
4. There once was a dumb writer who thought killing Nightwing for real would be a good idea, and he tried writing toward that end, but everybody else was like hahahaha NO
5. I used to hate when fic writers would shorten Damian’s name to Dami (kind of like how I majorly dislike when people shorten Sirius Black’s name to Siri, he is not an iPhone gosh). But then I read a post on tumblr that said something about Dami actually meaning something in Arabic, something like blood or life-blood or heart blood…I can’t exactly remember what and maybe it isn’t even true but I choose to believe it is and that Dick knows exactly what it means and he calls Damian Dami as a way to show how special he is, how much Dick loves him. Because Damian is his little brother/son and means the absolute world to Dick. And Damian, though he pretends to despise all nicknames, absolutely LOVES that Dick calls him this
Summary: You cannot hear music until you listen to your soulmate sing. Until then, you’re stuck in a world without the joy and art of the harmonies and rhythms, and can only stare in jealousy at the other couples singing with each other. That is until the fateful day when you find your soulmate comes, only to lose him seconds later, sending you on a mini adventure to find him––with the help from his friends, of course.
( not my gif )
You frowned in jealousy at the group of friends across the street laughing and singing along to the music playing from the boombox hanging on one of their backs. Music you couldn’t hear.
Why couldn’t you hear it, you asked yourself. Why did you have to find your soulmate so much later than those across the street who didn’t look much older than sixteen?
Breaking the Code - Jughead Jones x Reader Imagine
Requested by anon: hi! i was hoping for a jughead request with an artist!reader who asks to illustrate jughead’s book with crime scenes and stuff, and when she shows jughead the finished drawings he finds one of them kissing? Thanks!
Description: The next day, you and Credence take a trip to Central Park and the day doesnt quite end up as you expected.
a/n: Here it is! This chapter ended up so much longer than I expected but once I got started I just couldn’t stop.
Your mind was fuzzy as you began to wake up, the events of the day before trapped behind the sleepy haze. The first thing you realised was that you were sat up. Why would you sleep sat up? With your eyes still closed, you twisted your neck from side to side, trying to stretch out the ache that had formed thanks to your odd sleeping position, groaning ever so slightly.
The next thing your mind focused on was the weight in your lap. Opening your eyes and looking down, what had happened yesterday came flooding back to the front of your mind. Working for Ms Barebone. Losing your keys. The boy who needed help. You remembered pulling Credence down to lay on you so that you could comfort him, and realised you both must have fallen asleep.
Credence, who last night was facing away from you, was now lying with his face close to your stomach, his hand in front of his face. What shocked you was that your own hand was enclosed in his, the bandaged hands wrapping gently around it, holding you close. Your other hand was still burrowed in his hair, and you subconsciously began to stroke it again.
This was the first time you had seen Credence look peaceful. Not just relaxed, genuinely peaceful. When he was asleep, he didn’t have to deal with the cruel world he was living in. He didn’t have to think about his mother and constantly worry about the next time he’d be beaten, didn’t have to worry about making mistakes and didn’t have to think about all the times people who didn’t even know him had called him a freak. You were sure that if he opened his eyes right now, all the pain you usually saw in them would be nonexistent.
You noticed how his lips were parted ever so slightly, but before you had the chance to have any other thoughts, he took a sharp breath in, shifting in your lap a little. The feeling of you stroking his hair made him lean into you again, letting out a soft sigh of contentment. You watched as he drowsily opened his eyes, and could tell he was trying to figure out where he was. Looking to the hand in front of his face, closed around yours, he realised what he had done and suddenly sat up, a look of panic in his eyes.
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” he starred to stutter out a quiet and completely unnecessary apology. “Credence, it’s okay.” You placed a hand over his, giving him a small smile, and his breathing steadied. It saddened you that the years of abuse had led to him being so scared of every small thing he did without having full control. He saw every small action as a mistake that he would be punished for, and you desperately wanted to get him out of that mindset, even if it took a very long time. You needed to be positive, so you cast the negative thoughts to the back of your mind.
The image of Credence, sat there with a blanket around his waist, hair mussed up from sleeping on his side, made your heart warm and you couldn’t help but grin. His usually perfectly preened demeanour was replaced by a cute boy who had sleep in the corner of his eyes. You wanted to tell him how happy it made you to see him like this, but you couldn’t; he needed taking care of. For someone so unused to kind words and actions, the last thing you wanted to do was push it too far too soon.
“How about some breakfast?” You asked him, but he cast his eyes down immediately. “Um, are you sure?” He looked nervous and unsure of himself again. What you didn’t know was that he was often not allowed breakfast at home. If he had disappointed his mother or if she was just in a bad mood that day, he would have to wait until dinner time to eat what was left in the serving pot. This made any offers of food questionable, because he was always scared to get his hopes up in the fear he would only be disappointed.
“Of course I am. How about some toast?” You wanted him to have something nice to eat so badly. He was so thin. You could tell he didn’t usually eat properly but weren’t sure whether that was his choice or someone else’s. If you were made to choose, you would definitely be leaning towards it being Mary Lou’s decision.
He was silent for few seconds before speaking. “Okay.” You grinned at him again. “Great! Let’s get going then.” You got up, stretched your arms and rubbed the back of your neck, trying to ignore the ache but grimacing slightly anyway. Picking up the cups of now cold tea, you walked into your kitchen with Credence trailing behind you.
You reached for the bread, slotting two slices into the toaster and got the butter from the fridge. You set up the table for the both of you, ushering Credence to sit down which he did, but with hesitation. When the toast popped up, you put one on each plate. As you were about to butter them, you remembered the raspberry jam you’d bought a couple of days ago.
“Would you like some jam?” You asked Credence politely. Before you spoke to him, he was transfixed on tiny dents in your small wooden table, tracing his fingers over it lightly. Looking up, he nodded and muttered a “yes please”, so you turned back around and spread a generous layer of the jam over each slice of toast, humming slightly while you did so. You put the plates down on the table, one in front of each of you and sat down to eat. Credence just looked at his, so you gave him an encouraging nod to let him know it was okay.
You sat in comfortable silence for a while whilst you ate, until you noticed Credence tracing over the dents again. “Do you want to know how that happened?” The story was one that embarrassed you greatly, so you usually kept it to yourself, but you were willing to do anything to try and make this sad boy a little happier. When he nodded, eyes not leaving the small marks in the wood, you took a deep breath.
“Well, one day I was just sitting in my living room reading when I thought ‘maybe I should listen to some music while I read’. So I put my favourite album on the record player, turned the volume up, and completely forgot about my book. I got so into it, I was dancing around the house. I would have been mortified if anyone had seen me but I was having so much fun. I danced into the kitchen, and that’s when I slipped on some water I’d spilt earlier in the day and landed teeth-first into the table.”
You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment, half laughing, half trying not to die of shame. When you took your hands away and looked at Credence, he was smiling. You had only seen him smile once, and it had been a ghost of a smile, it was there and it wasn’t at the same time. But this was a proper smile. An ear-to-ear smile, and it looked like he was even trying not to laugh. Telling him had been worth it.
“You can’t tell anyone, it’s so embarrassing.” He kept his eyes on the now obviously teeth-shaped dents, still smiling. “I won’t.” He then looked at you properly for the first time. “I promise.” You didn’t know if he’d make any other promises to you in the future, but that was the best one he could have possibly started with.
“I think I’m going to go for a shower, I won’t be long. Just make yourself at home, look around if you want to.” You’d realised you were still wearing the same clothes as you had the day before, so were feeling a bit disgusting. “Okay” was his short but sweet reply. You washed up the plates and went upstairs to your bathroom. Switching on the water, you started to think about everything that had happened. You were bewildered by how much your life had changed in such a short amount of time. You didn’t know how long Credence would stay, but you hoped it would at least be for a little longer so you could get to know him and help him overcome his fears.
No-one deserved to be treated the way Credence had been, it wasn’t fair. You wanted to find out so much more about his life and why it had ended up so cruel. He was the single most interesting and captivating person you had ever met, and you wished you’d had the chance to speak to him sooner, to help him sooner.
You let the water wash over you, the grime from the day before disappearing down the drain with it. After washing your hair and body, you turned off the shower and got dry, before heading into your room to put on fresh clothes. You had an en-suite bathroom, which made life much easier in the winter when the race from the bathroom to the bedroom would have been a freezing half-run through the cool hall, your body being bitten by the cold.
When you finally made your way back downstairs, you entered the living room to find Credence sat on the couch reading a book. He didn’t even seem to notice you come in, so when you sat down next to him he seemed startled, snapping the book shut and instantly apologising.
“I-I’m sorry, I was just looking, I can put it back.” His words came out like bullets, almost fast enough to make them trip over each other. As he was about to get up to put the book back, you stopped him. “Credence, I don’t mind. I said you could look around.” He relaxed a little, his muscled unclenching from beginning to stand up, and his fingers started to stroke the front of the book absently. “Which one is it?” Instead of telling you, he handed you the battered old book without looking up. You recognised it immediately.
You had found this book one day while you were searching through the biggest second-hand bookstore in New York. You’d travelled especially to get there, and you couldn’t wait to see what you could find. You spent at least three hours scouring the shelves trying to find something different to what you were used to. Eventually, when you reached the very depths of the store and were starting to give up hope, you found this tiny, beautiful book stuffed behind the ones lines up on the shelves.
When you took it home, you read the whole thing in one sitting. It was so different, so imaginative and so perfect. You had treasured it since. If someone had upset you, if you were ill, or just if you’d just had a bad day, you would always turn to ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’. You smiled fondly at the memories of those times.
“I love this book” you told him, and you really did. “Me too” was not a reply you were expecting. No one else you had ever met had heard of it before, let alone read it. “You’ve read it before?” You handed the book back to him, and he held it so carefully it was as if he thought it might turn to dust in his hands. “My mother, uh, my real mother - had a copy. She used to read it to me.” Your heart broke again. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the book once, and you could tell how much it must have meant to him. You had known that Mary Lou’s children were adopted, but you didn’t realise it had been when Credence had already grown up. “Well, she clearly had good taste.” A smile pulled lightly at the corners of his mouth. You wanted to keep the atmosphere lighthearted, and not let him fall into a chasm of sadness and forgotten memories that would only cause him more pain.
You couldn’t imagine how difficult it must have been for him to lose a mother and have her be replaced with a cruel, violent adoptive parent. Why would someone take a child in only to subject them to the life Credence had been through? Mary Lou, from what you had seen, treated Credence the worst of all. Something about him must have made Ms Barebone turn against him, or maybe she just didn’t like the person he was.
“Maybe we should go out today? We could just have a walk and see what we find?” You asked Credence. You didn’t want him to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, but you thought getting out of the house for a while would be a good idea. “Okay.” Knowing that was as close to 'yes’ as you were going to get, you smiled at him. “Great! Do you want to have a shower? Before you ask if I’m sure, I’m very sure, and then I can change your bandages too.” “Thank you” was his reply. He didn’t tell you, but he appreciated greatly the way you gave him the extra assurance he needed without him having to ask. It was as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders, and although he was still a little unsure and nervous, it made it a lot easier. You showed him to the bathroom, gave him a towel and a new toothbrush, and left him to it.
While you waited downstairs, you got out the medical kit and set it out on the kitchen table, quietly angry that it was even necessary. Realising Credence would need something to wear out in the cold again, you went up to your bedroom and pulled out an old, slightly worn-out coat that hadn’t been worn for quite some time. It shouldn’t fit him, but it would, his body malnourished and slightly emaciated. Leaving your room, you decided to sit at the table and wait for Credence, trying to ignore the dents.
Credence came back down about 20 minutes later. When he sat in the chair opposite you, you noticed that his hair was still damp, causing a few strands to stick to his forehead. His cheeks were pink because of the hot water, and he looked so much better. You didn’t want him to think you were staring, so you stopped looking and picked up the antiseptic liquid again. He put his now un-bandaged hands in front of you without you asking.
“I’m sorry if this hurts.” He didn’t reply, so you started tending to his wounds again. Compared to the day before, they had healed an incredible amount. You knew you could never get rid of the scars underneath the fresh injuries, but you could make the current ones disappear as if they never happened. Starting fresh. You ran the cloth over a particularly deep laceration, making Credence wince. You muttered an apology before finishing and bandaging his hands again gently.
“I found this coat for you. It’s my old one but it’s not girly and I think it’ll fit.” After you had put everything away, you handed him the coat. Like the last time you’d offered him your coat, it took three lots of reassuring him that it was okay before he finally put it on. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome” you told him, and he truly was. You wanted him to have anything he wanted or needed.
Once you’d left your house, you started walking with no real destination in mind. Christmas was coming up, it was only a couple of weeks away now and you’d already bought Christmas presents for your family. You always loved buying presents; getting a gift just right, and seeing the reaction of whoever you were giving it to was what Christmas was all about to you. Being close with your family, they were always there for you when you needed them and supported you no matter what. If you hadn’t known how lucky you were already, Credence’s experiences had amplified just how lucky you felt to have them.
“How about we go to Central Park?” You wondered whether Credence had ever been allowed to go before. It was one of your favourite places, somewhere you could escape from the claustrophobic environment of the city. His response was a nod, so you changed your trajectory.
In the run up to Christmas, it wasn’t unusual for there to be little stalls in Central Park, people selling all sorts of things like mulled wine and gifts. However, you spotted the one you were hoping for. Instead of asking Credence and going through the routine of having to convince him it was okay, you walked straight up to the tiny temporary hut and ordered two hot chocolates with whipped cream and marshmallows.
You carried them to a bench and sat down, Credence doing the same. When you handed him one of the cups, he thankfully took it without protest. “Thank you.” He spoke quietly as usual, still uncomfortable with making himself too noticeable as if he would be punished for it. He waited until you took a sip before he took one himself, a whipped cream moustache left behind on his face without him noticing. When you looked at him, you couldn’t help but let out a giggle, making Credence shoot you a very confused glance, knitting his eyebrows together.
“You’ve got a little something…” you gestured to your own top lip, and his hand shot to his new moustache, realising what had happened. You were still giggling, and his face had turned an adorable shade of pink while he scrubbed at his top lip with the back of his hand. Trying to ignore the fact you’d described him as adorable in your head, you turned your head forwards again and carried on drinking your hot chocolate.
“My mother taught me to ride a bike here. It took so many tries but, eventually, I did it.” You smiled to yourself at the memory; it really had taken a long time, but she had never given up on you. “I’ve never learned”, Credence replied, and you weren’t surprised. “Well maybe I can teach you one day.” You imagined him wobbling along on a bike with you holding on to make sure he didn’t topple over. “I’d like that.” The whisper of a smile crossed his lips again as he took another sip, and that word crossed your mind again, but this time with others. You shook it off.
You both finished your drinks and started to walk back towards your house. It was too cold to stay out for too long and you didn’t want either of you catching a cold. You were so lost in your thoughts, the grip on your wrist came to you as a surprise and you nearly turned around and punched the person you thought was attacking you. But it was too gentle to be an attacker, and you remembered who had been walking at your side.
“Credence?” His face had turned pale and the fear had returned to his eyes. It was as if he was cemented to the spot, his eyes glued to somewhere in the distance. You turned around and followed his gaze. Mary Lou Barebone was walking in the opposite direction on the other side of the street. But she hadn’t noticed the two of you yet. You should have been more careful, you mentally scolded yourself for not thinking about which way you were walking. Quickly and without hesitation, you pulled Credence into the closest alleyway where you couldn’t be seen, making sure Ms Barebone had passed.
“It’s okay, we’re safe” you told him, but the shock of seeing her had taken over his mind, making him unable to process what you were saying. You approached him slowly, standing in front of him as he cast his eyes to the ground. “Credence.” You took his face gently in your hands like you’d done the night before, making him look up at you. “We’re safe.”
You stroked his cheeks with your thumbs comfortingly when you noticed his eyes welling up with tears, and pulled him into a hug. One of your hands was wrapped around the back of his head, gently stroking his hair, while the other was around his shoulders. He cried softly into the crook of your neck, with you whispering comforting words to him to try and calm him down.
At first, Credence kept his hands at his sides, but after about 30 seconds, when the crying became more harsh and he became more desperate for comfort, he cautiously brought one arm up around your waist and gripped your coat tightly in his fist. When you didn’t push him away and only offered him more calming words, he had the courage to wrap his other arm around you, again balling your coat into his fists as he shook quietly, tears seeping through closed eyelids wet on your neck.
You held him for as long as he needed, until the short sharp breaths against your neck turned long and deep, and he was able to whisper a “I’m sorry” with his head still buried. He was ashamed of being so scared all the time, ashamed that the smallest incident reduced him to a shaking, sobbing mess. But, despite it all, you made him feel like it was okay. You made him feel like he didn’t need to be ashamed and scared of letting his emotions be seen. When he was with Mary Lou, there was no comfort, no warmth. Until now, he’d never truly felt cared for by anyone other than someone who was already long gone.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Shall we go home?” You felt him nod and the reluctance to let go was obvious from both of you. You squeezed him tighter for a moment before unravelling yourself, keeping one hand on his face to wipe away the tears that were left there. You walked with him to the entrance of the alley and made sure it was safe. When you looked at Credence, you could tell he was still a little worried. Wordlessly, you took his hand in yours. He looked a little surprised, but he held your hand tightly, neither of you letting go until you were at your front door.
Time had flown by without you noticing, and by the time you got back, day was already starting to turn into early evening. Once you were in the warm, you both took off your coats and hung them up on your coat hooks. You told Credence that the one next to yours could be exclusively his, and this small gesture meant more to him than you could possibly know.
“What do you want to do now?” You asked Credence, already knowing what his answer would be. “I don’t mind”, was his expected reply. “How about I teach you some card games?” He seemed to perk up slightly at the idea. You loved playing cards; it was a family tradition to play together at Christmas and you were taught so many games from a young age. “I won’t be any good.” “Well I’m a great teacher”, you smiled at him and walked to the living room, grabbing a pack of cards from a drawer. You sat on the floor on one side of the coffee table, and Credence sat opposite you. Taking the cards from the pack, you shuffled them and started dealing for Whist.
Over the course of the evening, you managed to teach Credence three different games. To start with, he lost a few times and you could tell it was getting to him, but after a while it was as if he didn’t even have to try. The glint in his eye and the smile on his lips when he had the winning hand made your heart swell, and he would always look to you for approval to make sure he was doing the right things.
You played for hours, and you had never seen Credence so happy. He barely stopped smiling. After you taught him how to shuffle the deck, you got up to grab some food for the both of you. When you reached the doorway of the living room, plates of sandwiches in hand, you stopped. Credence was trying to build a house with the cards. The look of concentration on his face was, again, adorable. You gave in to the word this time. It was incredible to see him thinking of nothing other than the exact right way to balance a card, his eyebrows knitted in concentration.
You took the time to properly look at him. His sharp jawline and perfect porcelain skin, framed so beautifully by his dark hair. His hands were also a marvel, it was as though they had been sculpted, and you watched the way they closed around each card so delicately.
Lost in your thoughts, you forgot that you were staring, only to be reminded when Credence’s hands suddenly shot away from the table. You looked at his face and were shocked to see it had turned pink. When you realised what you’d done, yours joined him in utter embarrassment. “Oh, um, I-I’m sorry, I was just watching-” you trailed off and desperately wished you could cover your face in shame. Walking over to the coffee table, you put the plates down and and apologised again, feeling utterly stupid for not being able to stop yourself.
He did something you would never have expected. Carefully, he placed his hand on top of yours, which made you turn even redder. “It’s okay, (y/n).” His eyes flicked to yours as he said your name before returning to the coffee table. A gesture like that from Credence was a monumental step for him, and you knew it. He had never initiated contact like that before, so you were aware of the courage it must have taken.
When he didn’t move his hand, you turned yours over, entwining your fingers with his once again and looked at him. He was so different and so unique in the best ways; you just wished he could see it. In this moment, Credence felt so lucky to have met you. To meet someone who, finally, accepted him for the person he was and didn’t constantly push him to change. Someone who seemed to genuinely want to help him.
Before it got awkward, you motioned to the food on the plates and mentioned that you didn’t want him to go hungry, almost painfully taking your hand away from his but not knowing what else to say. Once you’d both finished, you took the plates into the kitchen but left the cards where they were; you couldn’t bring yourself to tear down the half-built, fairly unstable house of cards.
“We should get some sleep. I’ve made up the spare room for you.” After seeing him yawn, you decided sleep might be the best idea. Once you reached the door to the guest room, you turned to Credence. “I’ve had a really nice day with you, Credence” you told him, almost shyly. Did he always stand that close? You said goodnight and moved to go to your own room, but you were stopped once more by a grip on your wrist. Turning to Credence, you waited for what he wanted to say. He looked nervous again, still not able to look you in the eye. “Um, thank you. For everything.”
You smiled softly at him, and instead of giving him a reply wth words, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He responded much quicker this time, wrapping his I arms around your waist and burying his head in your neck again. You don’t know how long you stood that way; it could have been seconds, it could have been minutes. But you were both so contented and happy that it didn’t matter.
You pulled away slowly, your cheek brushing his as you did so, foreheads touching. You were still so close to him, your faces only an inch away from each other. As you moved your hand to rest on his jaw, thumb lightly stroking his face, Credence shifted one hand to your side. He gripped your clothes tightly and closed his eyes as if in desperation.
After plucking up the courage, you carefully brought your lips to his. It was chaste and soft and warm, just a peck but it contained more emotion and longing than any kiss you had ever experienced before. You pulled away and whispered “is this okay?” against his lips. Instead of replying, he kissed you. You were almost too shocked to respond, but pressed your lips back against his, eyes fluttering shut. After a few more pecks, you opened your mouth slightly to properly capture his lips with your own. Credence copied you, and you moved together smoothly even though you could tell he was nervous and new to this.
Before it got too much, you pulled away from the bliss again and opened your eyes. You kissed the corner of his mouth gently and ran your thumb across his bottom lip as he opened his eyes and looked at you, a pink tinge to his cheeks. “That was-” He didn’t finish his sentence. “I know.” Neither of you had let go of each other yet, the proximity was too intoxicating.
You pressed one last kiss to his cheek and unravelled yourself, Credence releasing your jumper from his tight grip and both took a step back.
“Um, I guess I’ll see you in the morning then” you told him. He started to smile, and nodded. “Goodnight, Credence.” “Goodnight, (y/n).”
You fell asleep that night with a warmth in your chest you’d never felt before. A kiss had never affected you so much, and you already couldn’t wait to see Credence the next day.
While he lay in a bed a thousand times comfier than the one he was used to, Credence’s mind was overcome with joy. Someone had kissed him. But not just anyone - you. He had always wondered what falling in love might feel like, and he couldn’t imagine it possibly feeling any better than this.