#aks angst
Text
saudade | lee know
pairing: lee know x gn! reader
genre: angst, fluff
au: exes to eventual lovers
wc: 22k+
warnings: language, anxiety, breakup, insecurities, miscommunication, slowburn, too much wallowing, just sad vibes and mc and minho longing for each other :’(
a/n: repost !
one.
The breakup was messy.
That was partially true, because you were the one who had mostly shed all the tears, but in actuality, the week long sobered up you had admitted to your delusional counterpart that this wasn’t to be a game of blame.
Minho had your best interests at heart, you heard him out and even sympathised with the logic, but at the end of the day your exposed vulnerability had set up its self defences in favour of the innate need to let your feelings to the forefront, because after all, you had worn your heart on your sleeve.
It was a mechanism that had built its wall with excruciating pain of lifting every block of brick the deeper you looked into what you had thought to be a relationship; the fonder your actions, the bigger the amount of effort you had to put into picking up that brick. Everything you had done or said ran through your muscles in painful pricks, a jab at every crevice of your being a reprimanding ramification.
You refused to talk to the man, ignoring his presence in a room and revelling in the forlorn glances thrown your way. You likened your pathetic state to his downturned mouth, intentionally swerving out of his way and going as far as to feign ignorance at the mention of his cats; you weren’t weak.
That was a sentiment you were entitled to convince yourself of, save for the conforms of your room where you could sulk and let the tendrils around your heart tighten in a chokehold.
However, there was a satisfaction of feigning your days into careless smiles and easing yourself into old routines, because it came with the bittersweet taste of regret oozing from the man causing you your miseries, coating him with the consequences of his undertakings. It lead you to believe that the pettiness on your part was only justified.
But slipping back to old habits was not easy. You still laid the table for two sometimes, still brought out two blankets for days you slept in front of the television and still stumbled upon cat toys laying around your house. It made you angry at the way Minho had seeped into your life and left parts of him still etched in your memory that prompted you to preserve those small nothings in every corner of your apartment. It was tiring having to recall small moments of genuine happiness, floundering about searching for it and holding on to it for a moment too long for you to self acclaim yourself as ‘moved on’ and ‘over it all’.
This wasn’t good. You were far too invested in this even now and had to let go of the past in whatever way possible.
So when you were looking for a job, you were desperate enough to grab one at a 24/7 convenience store, even though that meant you would probably end up with a graveyard shift on the weekends, which for you worked perfectly fine if it was to be accounted for distracting you from your thoughts.
Now, you were not so sure you had made the right decision.
It was one thing to work there on weekends for the extra pay, but it was another to drag your exhausted self there after a week of academic torture, only too aware of the pile of assignments waiting for you back home that you hadn't even spared a glance at in the entire week.
This was yet another life choice you were obligated to put in the bag labelled 'questionable and regretful' along with a million others, but you were adamant to admit it regardless of the concerned gazes of your friends; you smiled and waved it off saying you were doing quite alright.
Minho didn’t buy it.
Every single thing that had happened since the breakup had weighed him down like a soaking wet bag of cotton stuffed inside his clothes, and much to nobody’s surprise at all, he blamed himself for your haggard state.
That was saying a lot because he would show up to lectures in his sweatpants and a hoodie, not even bothering to sit upright and pay attention, choosing to bury his throbbing head in his arms for the entire lecture.
The aftermath of the situation was not something he had foreseen and just sometimes he regretted having to be honest all the time. He was torn between this urge to turn back time and never say a word about it and the desire to give in to the constant ache in his chest whenever he saw you, thought of you or dreamt of you.
Minho had never felt this way; never had this contradicting impulsion of either slinking into his seat till he melted into the plastic or the itching spring in his feet that wanted to run to you and beg you for another chance.
He did want another chance, but you had been so frustratingly clear in drawing the line, he had to hold himself back from reaching out to you. He took a step back when you were near but smiled at you though you took no notice of him; let you borrow the book he had been waiting to read for a week, even though he had carefully hidden it away from other eyes; made sure you were hydrating even though he had to put up with Jisung’s whining about how weird it was to go up to you and hand you a bottle of juice (he paid Jisung ten dollars just to shut him up).
He pretended not to be hurt when you left the book on the table without borrowing it, put up with the tight tug at his chest when you refused to accept the drink deeming the heaviness in his chest deserving.
Minho is content watching you smile from afar at someone else he doesn’t know, at something he can’t make out from the way your lips move. He closes his eyes and hopes to forget the image of you ingrained in his memory and the past that he had already ruined seeps it’s way through the cracks of your image like tendrils of a vine.
But Minho was keen and observant of people he cared about.
“Hey (y/n),”
Sighing deeply to yourself you put up a perfunctory smile.
“That’ll be 900 won.”
“How are you doing? Jisung said you left class early yesterday,” Minho says, genuinity weaving through his voice and face, innocent worried eyes peeking from under his bangs that lay across his eyes.
“Peachy keen, is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Are you sure? You look pale…”
“I’m fine, can you please pay now?”
“Have you eaten?”
“Will you pay already?”
Here’s the thing about pulling all nighters – it affects your ability to feign interest in conversations you would rather not be a part of and are especially thankful for customers on your shift who come in with clear intent of what they want and what they need, fortunately that only leaves you to deal with them quickly. So right now, you were on the edge of breaking and cracking your facade under the constant interrogation.
“I’m sorry, you just don’t look that well to me, and I’m worried about you.”
You are quick to resign yourself from feeling bad about Minho’s forlorn tone and large eyes that looked at you with sorrow; you felt like you had just told off a child for eating too many candies.
“Just…pay already,” you bite back the words waiting to tumble out of your lips any given second, then with a sigh add, “please.”
Minho fumbles around with his wallet, pulling out the bills and placing them on the counter, however, he doesn’t pick up the kimbap roll he had purchased.
“That’s for you,” he says, motioning towards the plastic covered roll with his chin as he tucked his wallet back into his pocket.
“What?”
“Don’t skip meals, it’s not healthy for you.”
You’ve obviously realised what was happening but before you could breathe out another word, you heard his hurried footsteps across the floor and the jingle of the bell above the door, leaving you leaning across the counter, your lips in the middle of protesting dismissal of his good will, but it’s already too late and you realise that with resentment as you watch the boy cross the street in a sprint and walk away, shoulders hunched and head bowed low.
Minho may be content with watching you from afar, but he can be just as adamant as you are, and one day he hopes to make it all up to you, but until then he struggles against your cracking image, fighting against the vines that shoot past, resolute on resisting the damage of his own actions.
two.
You studied the box you were holding, flipping it over a few times in your hands, hearing the distinct rattle of small, hard somethings inside. You thought you could smell sugar, too. The box looked and felt expensive – the texture of it, the delicate ribbon looped and tied round it, the exactness of its corners. You tried to think of where or whom it could have come from. After all, you weren’t expecting anything, let alone anything important or special.
But that was definitely your name scrawled across the top of the box in a surprisingly fancy script.
You don’t recognise the handwriting, the penmanship was too exquisite.
“Look at you, got yourself a little secret admirer huh?” Jisung’s taunt was loud enough to turn a few heads your way and you felt yourself growing uncomfortably hot at the snickers you received, quickly retracting the box inside your bag, stuffing it in unceremoniously.
Your eyes momentarily flickered to your left where you knew Minho was sitting a few seats away on the row above yours, but he was busy talking to the small group of people surrounding him. He either didn’t hear or if he did, he didn’t care enough. Or maybe he did care, but just ignored it.
Not that you cared whether he noticed or not.
Turning towards the over excited boy beside you, you let out a heavy sigh at the smug grin on his face.
“I saw that,” his saccharine smile makes you flinch inwardly, the way he rested his elbow on the desk making you want to knock it off with a flick of your hand.
“Saw what?” you busy yourself taking out your supplies for the class, hoping that you wouldn’t have to be interrogated about the box inside your bag.
As it turns out, Jisung was not interested about the pandora’s box, well, in a way he was, but right now he was more interested in what he had just seen and that’s saying a lot because Jisung, contrary to his ridiculously short attention span in class and his usual aloofness to a lot of things, was a very observant person.
“I saw you looking at him,” there is a tantalising lilt to his words, one that makes you hover your hands around in the air as if caught red handed doing something bad, but you shake that feeling off with a well fed lie you’ve accustomed yourself to.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
You only hear a hum of acknowledgement before being spared the further mortification of confrontation when the professor walks in. As the class settles down, mumbling a less than enthusiastic greeting at the professor, you slump over your desk, doing your best to have your face anywhere but in Jisung’s line of sight.
You don’t need to be in his peripheral vision, however, to lose your damn mind, because he happens to be very good at always having the last say of words.
“If it makes you feel better, he was looking at you too,” he whispers in your ear and though you don’t even dare acknowledge him, you can sense the smirk gracing his face, “perhaps loverboy there might have been a little jealous.”
You don’t say anything, but for the rest of your lecture you blatantly try to ignore the feeling of someone staring your back down.
Your innate ability to not even glance at Minho anymore was only at par with his ostentatious nonchalance at the same.
Before, you would always pass glances with him in classes, sticking your tongue out at him and then chortling silently when he just stared back at you with a deadbeat face, lips puckering out and the playful disdain in his head shake making you double over your desk, hiding away from your professor’s view.
Now your gaze remains stubborn on the presentation on the board, spinning your pen in one hand while resting your head on the palm of the other. He finds his eyes staring towards your bag, as if he could see the box you had stuffed inside if he stared hard enough, teeth biting onto his lips as he tapped his fingers on his desk nervously.
A nudge to his side jolts him from his state, narrowing his eyes at the culprit who was motioning in front with his head. If the implication was not enough, the telltale voice of the professor sounds out in good humour.
“Mr. Lee, if you would be so kind enough to pay your attention to my lecture rather than (y/n)’s back, I would appreciate it.”
A chorus of snickers and giggles breaks out, immediately shushed out by the professor who seemed to be enjoying the indulgence none the same.
You burned in your seat, sinking your head further down under the teasing eyes directed towards you, kicking Jisung under the table when he snickered loud enough to elicit a few more giggles and yet you never turned around to glare at the man causing you your miseries. God, only Minho would get caught in class for something like this!
Even if you did manage to cool down your face, tugging at the neck of your shirt and fanning yourself when the professor’s back was turned, your mind was churning with a trainwreck of thoughts, most of which was making you fumble around, unable to pay attention to anything except the loud buzzing in your ears. Consciously, you straighten your back and cross your legs under the table only to wiggle around in your seat when you realise there wasn’t enough leg space to do that. Your embarrassment increases tenfold.
Minho is not spared as the victim to his share of awkwardness as he all but clears his throat a little too loudly and every breath he takes sounds magnified now. It doesn't help that you stand out like a sore thumb in his eyes, fidgeting in your seat, obviously uncomfortable.
His chances of redemption were looking staggeringly low, any likelihood that you would not hate him more than you already did after he put you under public awkwardness was a shot in the dark.
When the class ended, you were the first one to dash out of the door, almost dropping the books you were trying to stuff inside your bag while sprinting across the floor. Safe to say, Minho didn’t chase you, saving his red faced apology for later.
three.
Minho was a good cook.
He knew exactly how much salt the marination required and the seasoned experience of how long he should let the broth simmer. What he didn’t know was how to bake, and he was in the very middle of doing exactly that; it would be safe to say that even though the general conundrums were proving to be back-breaking and the results were highly questionable, he hasn’t burnt anything down, yet.
An array of ingredients lie about, covering every inch of the workstation Felix had wiped clean only that morning, the powdered flour like snow on the slab and the salted chocolate mix sitting abandoned with an egg-covered whisk in it. Maybe Felix died a little inside but the state of his kitchen in shambles would have been slightly more concerning had it not been for the flour covered man sitting amidst the mess, eyes frantically skimming through a cookbook with splatters of batter speckled on it, hair sticking out like a madman caught in the middle of a very traumatic experience in a particularly intense episode of a Gordon Ramsey cook-off.
“Do I want to know?”
Felix started off timidly, torn between comforting his visibly distraught friend and suppressing an itching urge to reach out for the rag sitting so alluringly on his counter and wipe the whole thing down like it never happened in the first place.
Which were Minho’s sentiments exactly at this point, except he just wished he could start all over again.
He resigns with a sigh, slumping against the counter and abandoning his fifth batch of batter, the whisk clinking against the glass bowl, his heavy breath sifting the stray flour on the counter in the act.
“I used salt in the batter,” he says, hanging his head lower and lower as if it were a physical amalgamation of how he was losing one brain cell per second just standing there in the kitchen that smelt like chocolates and it was honestly making him sick.
“Fucking salt in place of sugar Lix, I don’t know what to do anymore…”
It only takes another heavy sigh on his end and his very much flour covered hands rubbing at his face for Felix to make his decision; Minho needed help, good lord he needed help.
“Hyung…” Felix was quick to move around the counter towards his elder, gently pulling him into a hug only to feel the telltale warmth of tears soaking through his shirt and grazing his shoulder. This was concerning.
“Hyung, talk to me, please.”
A part of Minho knows that this sudden exposure to an incorrigible vulnerability was scaring the younger boy, undoubtedly because he had never put his feelings on display like this, and that part was telling him to stop because if anything, he didn’t want to be an inconvenience, but this only made him sob harder.
Felix was inevitably taken aback at the sudden outburst, but he could not ignore the growing suspicion that this was more than frustration over failed baking endeavours. Minho did the best he could, but he would never break down completely over things he could not achieve, maybe pissed but never so despaired to shed tears over it.
“Why can’t I make some stupid fucking chocolates!” a sniffling intervention cut through, Minho’s sobs almost immediately ceasing as he rubbed at his eyes vigorously, a very alarmed Felix left to blink at the sudden change.
“Okay… a penny for your thoughts?”
Minho sniffs again, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve and carding a hand through his hair before explaining.
“I’ve been trying,” Minho shoves the recipe book in front of his roommate’s face, “to make this for two hours now, and I keep fucking up.”
Felix creases his brow at the said recipe for salted caramel chocolates, eyes flickering in confusion between the man waving it in front of him and the newly ignited frustration in his eyes before venturing hesitantly.
“Hyung, you don’t even like this…”
Whatever it was about those six words seemed to have drenched out the fury in Minho’s eyes, for he blinked rapidly as if flickering between the numerous emotions he was suddenly exposed to, only to look away abashedly.
“It’s not for me,” his words, though mumbled out softly, seemed to have stuck themselves down his throat, a visibly forced will to have them tumble through his mouth and even then they lingered in the heavy air.
A sudden realisation dawns on Felix, but before he can think anything of it, he’s blurting it out in a loud voice, surprising to even his own ears.
“What the fuck hyung, are you serious?!”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah, you’re digging your own grave is what you’re doing, glad we’re clear on that.”
Felix isn’t a particularly spiteful person, but his words come out implying such a sentiment against his better judgement. Nobody can blame him because he had a firsthand experience of the complete trainwreck that The Breakup was (it was mutually decided by your friend group to capitalise on the rather dreadful affair) to the point where he had felt like he had been at least one of the involved person on more than one occasion; he was clearly upset and trepid about Minho’s sudden endeavours.
“You’re making it sound so bad,” Minho could all but huff out, crossing his arms across his chest challengingly.
“What part of gifting your ex handmade chocolates on valentine’s day doesn’t sound like a bad idea?” Felix challenged slightly more intensely.
“I never said I was going to give it to (y/n)!”
“Oh yeah, so you’re telling me you haven’t been moping around for months around the house looking like a war widow mourning the death of your husband–”
“That’s an oddly descriptive–”
“– are you seriously telling me you’re not making (y/n)’s favorite chocolates right now?”
“Have I really been looking like a war widow?”
“Hyung!”
“Jesus Lix, I’m trying to make things right!”
“By giving your ex handmade chocolates?? On valentine’s day?!”
“What part of making things right did you not understand?”
“What part of the word ‘ex’ did you not understand?”
“Okay look,” Minho sighs, leaning back against the counter, “I know this is crazy but…I feel like – I feel so…I have to make things right.”
There was a finality to his words but held a lot more things unsaid in a way they couldn’t be put through mere syllables. Felix knew how hard Minho had taken it upon himself; you had almost entirely dissociated yourself for a week and when you were back, it had seemed like Minho was nothing but a figment of your imagination that had occurred and now you were up and awake from that fantasy as if reality itself had slapped you in the face, leaving behind a harsh mark imprinted on your cheek.
It was jarring, to say the least, and your mutual friend circle had been obligated to tiptoe around the two of you until you had entirely removed yourself to save them all the awkwardness. Though it was a relief to not have to hold his breath when he was stuck with you two in a room, he was not, and neither were any of your friends, happy about the way you were distancing yourself for their sake. He would be more than happy to have his friends back together, though exempting whatever sentiments you had towards Minho, but whatever this was, Felix had an inkling that it wasn’t Minho’s brightest ideas.
“You know why you guys broke up right?”
Felix’s baritone is like a huge boulder that resounds within Minho’s chest with a dull thud, weighing upon his conscience and his cautious tone tears it through moments later.
When Minho doesn’t answer, Felix ventures to say,
“Hyung, none of us were too happy when we found out, in fact Chan was mad at you and I’ve never seen him lose his cool like that. Are you positively sure that this is something you want to make amends for already?”
Some distant voice in Minho’s head was vigorously nodding along and cling on to every word Felix said; he would like to believe that it was because he was being logical, but in reality he was scared, and had it not been the strong scent of burnt chocolate he inhaled in the few seconds he let himself mull over his words, he probably would have seeked solace in the precautionary counsel and given up.
In hindsight, he would have grown to regret that decision as well had he actually gone through with it, but he realised that even if you ended up hating his guts and purposefully tried to mend a wound that he had no experience nor the know-how about, he would have deserved it all and so much more.
The familiar throbs of dull thuds start to creep up along his forehead, his eyes closing on their own accord as the numbness settles in. Minho was far away from his thoughts at such times, a momentary relief from all the churning and buzzing his mind was otherwise bare to, letting the pain slowly seep through his entire head till he was drowning in it.
“Will you help me?”
The request is barely mumbled, devoid of any intonation, but Felix knows that this was a call for help and there was no turning back for his roommate now.
“Fine,” he concedes, “but I don’t want my name being dragged into this, I’m only helping you because I don’t want you to wreck my kitchen.” This was Minho’s kitchen as much as it was his.
Minho only nods with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
four.
“Minho did what?!”
That’s it, Felix was signing up for new friends – preferably friends who did not potentially get him kicked out of the library for yelling.
He shushes Jisung with a violent wave of his hands, fingers pressing upon his lips as did so many other people sitting beside him, their glares of annoyance turned upon the duo who bowed in apology.
“That was Minho?” Jisung yells in a whisper, eyes wide open and books long abandoned in pursuit of what he had cited as “hot tea”. Felix wondered whether he had made a mistake after all, telling his friend about it.
“Yes, but you’re not supposed to tell anyone!”
“What? Why not?”
“Because ughh,” Felix stressed, lowering his tone and leaning across the table, “Minho doesn’t want (y/n) to know it’s him, that’s why the fancy printed note!”
As if the world had finally started making sense to him, Jisung’s mouth forms into an o, eyes widening further till his eyebrows disappear under his bangs.
“Hold on, I thought Minho wanted to apologise, then why would he be so secretive about this all?”
“That’s the thing, he says he’s sure (y/n) would shut him down if they knew it was him.”
“Wow, so what, he’s trying to make them fall for him again?”
Jisung chuckles at his own theory, the mere idea sounding ridiculous in his head but his smile fades slightly when Felix doesn’t answer.
“That’s the thing, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what he’s trying to do…”
Jisung can’t say anything, quite literally, he’s been rendered speechless by this bit of information. Although, the sappy part of him agrees that it was slightly romantic, sans the part where Felix was adamant on sticking to his ‘ex stalking their ex’ theory, but really, if you ignored all those pessimistic vibes, you would have yourself a sweet little reconciliation story.
“You know what,” he says after a while, his words slow and calculative “I don’t think (y/n) is completely over him either.”
Raising a brow in question, Felix urges him to go on.
“It’s just the way this entire thing played out, you know? I know for a fact that (y/n) believed him when he…uh…confessed, and I think they would have given him a chance. Minho hyung was so adamant too…”
The pair falls silent, staring vacantly at their books, both undoubtedly lost in a stream of their shared conscience that had been prodded when the subject in question had been brought up. Felix is the first to speak after having stared at the words on his page that blurred around the edges, seemingly floating on the white void.
“You think we should have stopped him?”
Jisung glances up briefly, their eyes meeting and a pang of regret hits him square in the chest.
“I think so. Do you think we should stop him now?”
Felix shakes his head in denial, “It’s already done and he’s too stubborn. I just hope none of them have to get hurt more than they already have.”
Jisung twiddles his thumb around his pen, tapping his foot under the table when he spots you making your way over, a bunch of books in your hands and the strap of your bag barely keeping up on your shoulder. You try to dump all your belongings as quietly as you can, but he can clearly hear your panting as if you had run all the way to the library.
“Hey guys, Hyunjin was trying to get me to volunteer for the Sweet Treats ughh, I don’t think I’ve ever run this fast in my life.”
You huff away a strand of loose hair that falls across your eye, slumping in your seat with a laborious breath and greet the two boys.
“Sweet Treats huh? Hwang is what, the running president for the third year in a row now?” Jisung scoffs, squeezing the nib of his pen absentmindedly on the table, leaving an ink stain in its wake.
You exchange a knowing glance with Felix; it was no secret that Jisung had harboured a major crush on Hyunjin since the first day they had met. There was nothing to hide about it, but Hyunjin himself was obliviously unaware of the blatant flirting and stuttering compliments. It was amusing to see Jisung lose his cool over his nonchalance, it was like watching someone be furious at someone because they were too cute – which was exactly what it was.
It was typical of Hyunjin to try and recruit volunteers for fests, especially during valentine’s week and being the president of the cultural club gave him the liberty of persuading students with free coffee and extra curricular credits, and he didn’t mind the flirting.
Jisung hated volunteering because he was always stuck with decorating the gym or carrying heavy boxes, but he could never say no to Hyunjin’s incessant whining and puppy eyes.
“How about you ask him out? Like you do when you like someone…like a normal person, rather than sulk over some guy’s pouty lips?” Felix sniggers, making you stifle a giggle.
“Oh shut up,” Jisung flushes, his ears turning redder by the second.
“Are you gonna volunteer this year?” you ask Jisung who was still trying to stop fiddling about in his seat.
“You know he can’t say no to Hyunjin,” Felix supplies from beside you, squawking when he receives a pen straight to his head, immediately apologising for the disturbance. You hide your head in your hands, trembling with laughter, catching vague whisper yellings of ‘shut up!’ and ‘what the fuck?!’.
If you thought you had escaped the clutches of Hyunjin’s request, you were mistaken and you should have known better because there was no way he would give up that easily and that is how you find the seat in front of you suddenly occupied and a very flushed and surprised Jisung sitting beside the boy, tightlipped and glaring at Felix who now looked constipated.
“Hyunjin…” you groan, smiling at him painfully. He returns the gesture with a smile that looked too victorious considering he hadn’t even made the proposal yet.
“I’m gonna ignore the fact that you ran away when you saw me if you agree to volunteer for Sweet Treats,” he starts, brushing his long hair back with his fingers; you had a very accurate suspicion behind his intentions, but one look at his smug grin made you bite back your words. Instead, you shrug.
“I don’t care Hyunjin, but I don’t think I can spend weeks cutting out heart shaped streamers and filling heart shaped balloons with heart shaped confettis and leave heart shaped invitations all around the campus,” at this point you wanted to barf at the sheer amount of times you had said the words ‘heart’ aloud, cringing at the very thought of al those things you just stated.
“Come on (y/n),” Hyunjin whines like the child he is, leaning forward and holding your hand in a vice-like grip before shaking you back and forth, “It’s free coffee and credits, you love both of those!”
“I like both,” Jisung coughs in the back, momentarily catching Hyunjin’s attention who engages with the boy. You think you’re saved and are about to thank Jisung who was already agreeing to everything Hyunjin had to say, nodding along indulgently, but alas, you are fated to have a heart-y valentine’s week after all.
“So (y/n), how about we make a deal–”
“Hyunjin, no–”
“No heart filled work for you if you help with the new booth this year,” Hyunjin wiggles his eyebrows at you alluringly, tempting you to urge him but you don’t, so he continues after a dramatic pause of breath, “we’re going to do a radio show!”
“A radio show? How does that even work?” Felix leans forward earnestly, his attention finally piqued.
“We’re rolling out a portal where people can send in their confessions anonymously, or not, a week before the 14th and all you have to do is read them out through the day of the festival. It would be like little announcements, very romantic.”
“You want me to read out confessions?”
“Yes, Seungmin’s gonna be there too!”
“We never did this before, so why now?”
“Well, we’re trying out new stuff and a lot of people seemed to have something of this sort from last year’s suggestion feedback, so we decided why not.”
You considered his proposition, crossing your arms across his chest with your eyes narrowed at him, trying to decipher what the catch was.
“I won’t have to make heart shaped decorations then?”
“Nope,”
“And you won’t have me fill up balloons with a shit ton of pink and red confetti either?”
“I give you my word, I won’t.” Hyunjin solemnly puts a hand on his chest and shakes his head.
“All I have to do is read out confessions?”
Hyunjin hums in agreement, adding, “You can divide them with Seungmin if there’s too many or you can figure it out yourself. 3racha also agreed to have the PA systems working and DJ.”
“Hold on,” Jisung intervenes swiftly, “I’m a part of 3racha, why was I not aware of this?”
“Oh no, you sir,” Hyunjin ruffles his hair with a smile, “are helping me out in the photography booth.”
Jisung can only splutter, you’re not sure whether it was because Hyunjin had just ruffled his hair or basically claimed a stake on him, but you had a feeling it was both.
“What’s it going to be (y/n), are you in?”
Reading out confessions…how bad could that possibly be? At the most you were either going to coo at the adorable love letters or cringe till your fingers were physically unable to unclench from a fist. But you supposed it was better than having to be covered in glitter and glue and craft paper.
“Alright, but you better keep your word Hwang,” you concede with some hesitance, unsure of how exactly you were supposed to feel about this.
Hyunin smiles at you gratefully and before leaving ropes in a chortling Felix who was having fun at the expense of Jisung being a flustered mess, into helping at the baking booth.
You sigh in defeat; maybe it would be better to not have any expectations at all.
five.
There was still more than a week before the anonymous confession portal was going to be put out, and even though you tried not to let the visible ‘lovesickness’ in the air get to you, it was proving to be difficult when you were yourself a frequent receiver of chocolate boxes and flowers and even drinks and muffins that were already paid for!
It certainly wasn’t helping that the notes were always printed and there was quite literally no trace of the sender, and that was what had brought you here right now, in this predicament.
“Who do you think it could be?” you ask, peering at the floral patterns on the ivory coloured box that had chocolates inside, hoping that if you stared hard enough, it would reveal it’s deepest and darkest secrets.
Felix shrugs nonchalantly, typing away furiously on his phone, barely paying any attention to the object of your interest that was slowly starting to give you a headache. It was one thing to have a secret admirer, but it was another to receive gifts from them that were uncannily to your taste and liking.
The first time, you had let it slide as a coincidence on finding out the chocolates were salted caramel flavoured – your favourite, but the second and third time were hard to pass as believable.
Even today, you found yourself being handed a warm cup of vanilla latte, just the way you liked it, the barista informing you with a knowing smile that it had already been paid for. You flushed when she giggled and winked at you, leaving you to hastily make your way to where Felix was waving at you from, scooting as far away as you could till you were basically pressed up against the wall, your head in hands as you groaned in embarrassment. Felix was having the time of his life, clicking pictures of you and the warm cup of coffee and the box of chocolates you had tossed on the table with a grunt, undoubtedly saving them for blackmail later on.
Now as you regard the box of chocolates in front of you, you force your mind to come to a blank because the only person you can think of is Minho, and it was driving you crazy. All your stupid little braincells could do was chant in his name in tiny font, growing louder by the second, even though you wouldn’t associate him with something like this – giving presents for the entirety of valentine’s was just not his thing, he would rather you both skipped the crowded cafes with lovesick couples. This was so not him, and yet…yet! Your stupid little mind could do nothing but think of him!
“Maybe they’ll confess on valentine’s day?” Felix, finally putting his phone aside, supplies helpfully.
“I would rather they didn’t,” you scowl, nonetheless opening the box and eating one of the chocolates. They were good, damn it.
Cocking a brow at you in amusement, he reaches for one too, suppressing a moan at how good these were; damn, Minho was getting better at this.
“I just…I don’t think I want any part in any of this, especially now when…”
Felix doesn’t have to prod at you to know why you left your words hanging in the air, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly panicked at the prospect. If you were already showing resistance to the very notion of what could perhaps be a simple crush, how would you react if you found out it was Minho?
“Lix, they gave me blueberry muffins yesterday for breakfast, it’s as if they knew I didn’t have time for breakfast on Wednesdays and ordered me some! It’s honestly a bit creepy, how do they know so much about me or is this all a coincidence?”
Okay, maybe Minho was not the best at being subtle and he made a point to tell him that later.
“It’s a bit overwhelming, what if they think I’m leading them on? But the thing is, I don’t even know who it is, and for some reason I keep thinking that it’s Minho but–”
You stop in your words abruptly, turning your wide eyes towards Felix who had the small beginnings of a smug grin creeping up his lips.
“That’s not what I meant,” you hastily explain, scrambling up from your seat.
“I believe you,”
“Don’t sound so patronising!”
“What if it is Minho though?”
“It’s not him, I know him and he wouldn’t do something like this.”
You’re stubborn in your opinion, perhaps a bit more stronger off the front than you would be because of the previous slip up, but now that you say it out aloud, you realise how ridiculous it sounds for Minho to plant gifts in your locker and order you breakfast on Wednesdays. Or was it?
It was. It was, it was, it was!! Maybe if you said it enough times like a mantra, it would be true. Maybe it was true and you didn’t need to worry about it, but why would you worry all the same? You didn’t want it to be him; you wouldn’t be disappointed if it weren’t him.
The only adversity in this whole ordeal is that it’s got you thinking about him again.
Though you had managed to stay away from the endless possibilities of this mystery admirer, your mind kept drifting to one particular guy, his sharp nose and soft lips like a permanent engraving in your thoughts and the 15% special discount on products for valentine's week where you worked didn’t help console you.
Scanning an enormous box of pepero sticks, you force yourself to smile at the girl who had purchased it, still in high school with the slightest blush tinting her cheeks, no doubt thinking of the person she had bought it for.
“Would that be all?” you smile, handing her the packet.
She shakes her head, bowing thankfully before leaving the store.
It was getting late, your shift only an hour away from ending. The sky outside was softening it’s hue to a darker blue, the onset of spring preventing nightfall from setting in early. Glancing around the store, you figure you would restock the chocolates section, since it was running low after the immeasurable amount of purchases in the last hour itself.
Abandoning your post from the counter, you retrieve the stock in a basket from the pantry, moving along the aisles, careful not to knock down anything else. In the middle of reaching the last aisle where the shelf was, the front door opens, a fainter tinkling resounding to the back and you yell out a hasty “be right there!’ before dumping the box on the ground and heaving out a sigh of relief.
“Hi, sorry, how can I–”
Well wasn’t this a surprise.
“How can I help you?” there it was, the uncanny rigidity in your voice at the sight of Minho. Your eyes stray down, the white and black patterns on his pants painfully familiar, but it brings a smile to your lips.
As if aware of your observation, Minho shuffles timidly on his spot, internally banging his head on a wall in embarrassment. Why, of all days, did he have to saunter into the convenience store wearing the cat pyjamas you had gifted him on Christmas!
Moving on instinct, Minho joins you in the back of the store, rummaging around the instant ramen section and picking up a few bags of crisps while you restocked the chocolates, patiently waiting for you at the counter. You don’t make him wait too long, skipping across the basket and hurrying to check him out.
“Will that be all?” you ask, handing him his stuff and gulping when your fingers brush.
He nods before placing the roll of kimbap on the desk and sliding it across you. You sigh.
“Let me guess, this is for me?”
“Don’t skip–”
“–your meals, yes I know and I haven’t been skipping them; you don’t have to do this you know.”
Your words came out harsher than intended, although you had not been purposeful about it, but the brief flash of hurt in Minho’s eyes resounds through your chest with a loud gong, the bottomless pit in your stomach opening up and you feel yourself free falling in the darkness. When did you become this mean?
“Right, of course. I’m sorry if I came off too overburdening,” Minho starts in a soft voice, his eyes never leaving the spot on the counter, too vulnerable to meet yours as his fingers dig into the plastic in his hands, the crinkling sound of it barely of any comfort. You think you can hear yourself breaking his heart, and even though that was what you had intended since the beginning, seeing him hurt made you feel ashamed to have been the reason for it.
“That’s not what I meant…” it’s not even an apology, but it was a weak attempt at one.
Minho says nothing, smiling at you before turning away and leaving through the door.
The door shuts behind him, the bell tinkling briefly before the sound fades away and you’re left alone in the store with your thoughts, staring at the roll of kimbap and wondering whether this had been worth it.
six.
Minho finds himself bumping into you more often than not these days.
The added cheerfulness of the people around him buzzing about the valentine’s festivities, if he dared to call it that, rubbed him all the wrong ways as he felt his resolve grow smaller day by day when he saw you in the halls or the library or laughing along with someone.
Not much has changed; you still avoid him but you don't necessarily ignore his presence in a room. You falter in your steps, blinking away when you catch his eyes, but you don’t ignore his smile across the room, acknowledging it with an awkward nod of head. It’s weird, to have to tread cautiously, but it’s Minho – the extent of your apology would only go so far as long as you had one feet dipped in a civil apology that functioned as a way to carry the load of guilt and the other feet in the conscious reminder that this was Minho – your ex and someone you could not be comfortable around yet.
Minho didn’t try to offer you any more food on his occasional trips to the convenience store which seemed to have increased to one visit per day, but you didn’t chide him for leaving a bottle of flavoured milk or a chocolate bar behind.
You both were toeing around this invisible line that you convinced yourself to consider a huge barrier, which would have been easy to blur had it not been for the constant, painful reminders of all the couples around you walking hand in hand or kissing in the hallways. It’s like someone had suddenly injected a huge amount of pheromones in the air and everybody except you was drenched in it.
Moreover, you were additionally drenched in an immeasurable number of anonymous confessions, ranging from ridiculously cheesy pickup lines to a “my honeybun <3” and to much tsundere versions of a typical bad-boy vibe you couldn’t help but grimace at; at least they tried, so A for the efforts.
As the days passed by, you kept dreading having to read some of these aloud, unsure of whether you would be able to keep the grimace out of your voice and Seungmin seemed to share the sentiment. Although, a part of you did admit this to being romantic, you didn’t stop yourself from joining Seungmin when he threw dirty glances across the table at Hyunjin, who, the hopeless romantic that he was, seemed to be cooing at almost all the letters you had received.
“Stop giving me the stink eye, you’re just jealous you don’t have a date for valentine’s,” Hyunjin never held back on his smugness when teasing Seungmin, his urge fuelled by the disgust on the latter’s face.
“I don’t think I need any more of that in my life after going through this hell,” Seungmin points accusingly at his screen where he was scrolling through the inbox full of anonymous messages.
The three of you sat in the computer lab, going through all the mail you had received and checking to make sure they were all appropriate to be read out loud on the day of, a precaution Hyunjin had insisted upon and you had found common logic in, although nothing so far had been of that nature, except the over the top cheesiness that you had tortured yourself with through the two hours you had spent. At this point you would willingly bang your head on the wall in hopes of at least having a concussion and passing out.
You are given a respite from your miseries when the door to the room opens, Minho trailing in with his bag on his shoulder and looking straight in your direction. Some respite.
Hyunjin waves him over with a smile while you slump in your seat, listening in to their conversation but not taking part in it.
“Is that the anonymous mailbox?” Minho asks, suddenly leaning forward and peering at your screen. Startled by the sudden proximity, you wheel your chair away slightly, but his hand comes to rest at the back and now you’re trapped between his frame and the desk.
You steal a furtive glance at his face, the tip of his nose illuminated by the screen light and glowing, his eyes blinking slowly while Hyunjin rambles in the background. Averting your gaze, you find Seungmin already looking at you two, smugly leaning back in his chair and hiding a smile. You shoot him a glare.
Minho glances at you carefully, smiling at the way your eyes flicker between him and the computer before finally settling away from him. He doesn’t hear much of what Hyunjin says, painfully aware of the distance between you two and the invisible barrier you had put up that he had yet to cross over.
He was trying, really. He kept looking for a door he could knock at, a loose link or a crack in the bottom, but the more he searched the longer the wall extended, going on and on for as far as his eyes could make out. Minho was starting to convince himself that he had lost the chance he had once had, and that he would never find that door you had willingly left wide open for him.
The sudden realisation dampened his mood, the proximity getting harder to bear when he knew he could reach out and touch your face and tuck your hair and kiss you. How had he taken it all for granted back then? When he could have easily sneaked up behind you and hugged you tight, when he could have kissed you for days on end but he whined when you did, when he could have let himself be vulnerable to his feelings; time had run out for him, leaving him feeling empty and uncertain of what the future held and the moss and dirt covering the deep dark pit in his chest start to rumble and fall apart.
His bag weighs him down, the box of chocolates inside becoming heavier by the second and the churning pit in his stomach gurgling in anxiety and precariousness. He doesn’t hope to find a door now, but he does hope that the apology he leaves by the wall is gone the next time he comes. That you would consider, but he knows not to push his boundaries and he had anticipated as much that he would no longer have the free pass to a mistake he could kiss away or buy his way out with coffee.
And although it hurts, he does not regret the time he spends on it. It was always meant to be for you. He does not expect you to forgive him all at once. So he keeps looking. Until the choice is an actual decision to open the door or turn around and look for a path that will take him somewhere else.
In fact, making you chocolates and buying you breakfast did not guarantee that either, nor was he trying to weasel his way in that way, but it was a step he took because he was desperate to even prove to himself that he cared after all. Of course he cared, he can’t believe he thought otherwise.
Seemingly done examining whatever was on your screen, Minho retracts his face away but remains standing with his hand on your chair while conversing with Hyunjin. You catch the faint whiff of a sweet scent, a familiar trace of vanilla you vaguely remember having a faint recollection of, but you can’t quite place it in your memory.
Minho doesn’t stay long, only there in the first place to collect his printouts. His hand brushes against your hair gently when he leaves; you're still mulling over the sugary sweet scent, your fragmented mind unable to quite let go of it.
seven.
“Look, if you’re worried about Minho, he’s not going to be at home.” Felix assures you on the other end of the line.
“Doesn’t he only have afternoon classes today?” you counter.
The pause is enough to make your face flush, and you’re thankful the boy himself is not here to tease you about it.
“I’m going to pretend you don’t remember his schedule–”
“It was a habit, I don’t–”
“My point is, you won’t run into him so can you please, please, please do me this favour?”
You sigh and groan, slumping further down your bed if that were physically possible, your pyjama clad legs sprawled lazily across the mattress and your phone squished in between your cheek and the pillow. Felix was really making you get off your bed on your one day off of class just to run an errand that would ultimately have you go to campus. Damn him.
“It’s not him, I just don’t wanna get up,” you groaned, and it was true. You didn’t care if you bumped into Minho or not, you were far too relaxed in the comfort of your bed that even the thought of getting up exhausted you, “besides, ask Minho, he’s your roommate.”
“If only he picked up my calls! I bet you anything he’s fast asleep and can’t hear his phone ringing over his snores,”
“Minho snores?” you’re mildly curious at this new piece of information, but try not to show too much interest in it.
“Not the point ughh are you listening to me?! My prof’s gonna kill me if I don’t hand in my assignment today and it counts for twenty percent of my entire grades, I need your help!”
You were already out of bed the moment he had started his spiel once again, you knew he would just repeat what he had said all over so you put the phone on speaker and grumpily tugged on a pair of jeans, tossing the tom and jerry pyjamas with a hole in the bottom on your unmade bed and waddled to your sock drawer.
“–I promise I will buy you coffee the entire week, I swear I will but if I fail this assignment then I’m going to make sure it weighs on your conscience forever that you could have helped a friend in need but you didn’t and then he failed his class and had to repeat an entire year and probably went into depression because god forbid I was idiot signing up for advanced calculus and economics in the same semester but regardless, you failed me as a friend and–”
“Felix, if you don’t stop, I’m going to throw you down the stairs when I come over.”
“You’re coming over?!”
“Yes,” you sigh grumpily, out of your door by this time and hobbling on foot as you try to put your shoe on, balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder.
“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”
“Only when you need something from me,”
“Chivalry is not dead.”
“Shut up.”
Felix doesn’t live that far away from you. It’s a fifteen minute walk from your dorm to his, twenty five if you stop in the way to pet a cat or dog, and there’s always a cat or dog, which is a sort of harsh yet not quite, reminder of memories attached to the long walks made bearable with the presence of a certain someone, which is funny because you just realised that now all of that is put in a box labelled ‘memories’ and that is certainly weird given your unfamiliarity to the sentiment and any suspicions of the same back when they weren’t memories.
You resist the innumerable sighs just tingling at the back of your throat; it’s too early for this.
It’s only when you’ve entered Felix’s apartment with the spare key in the teapot plant that you realise what you’ve walked into – a kitchen that looks like it’s gone through the seven layers of hell with an array of baking equipment scattered all over the counter. The boy himself had an apron on with splatters of batter specking the fabric. He doesn’t notice you, and he's definitely not expecting you.
“Why did you call so many– (y/n)?!”
“Uhh…hi?”
You roam your eyes at his condition, taking in his bewildered face and failing to hide your own surprise at seeing him bake for the first time.
“Felix sent me to get his project…it’s in his room, so I’ll just…” with an awkward gait you try crossing the distance across the kitchen and Felix’s room, ignoring the way Minho was now cowering. You want to laugh because you’ve never caught him so off guard and this would be an otherwise hilarious situation had you not been shocked by the domesticity of seeing him with a whisk, the scent of chocolate wafting through the air like a warm hug.
The minute you’re out of sight, Minho scrambles to his room, digging around for a decent shirt to put on, grimacing and mentally slapping himself when he looks into the mirror and sights the batter stained clothes. Why were you always catching him in his worst state these days?!
The blue folder Felix had told you about was on his desk, laying amongst a pile of clutter that ranged from rolled up balls of napkins and coffee stained sheets of rough papers. Grimacing at the mess, you pull the file out from under the pile of trash but it manages to knock over the precariously balanced advanced calculus books on his desk which fall to the ground before you can manage to save them.
With a resigned sigh, you bend to pick them up, stacking them in a smaller stack this time when your phone lights up, the caller ID you had expected to pop up but nonetheless making you roll your eyes. You pick up reluctantly.
“Did you get it, are you there yet?” the panicked baritone from the other end is slightly drowned by the chattering in the background.
“I just got it, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” you reply, picking up the final book and making your way out of the room with brisk steps.
“Fifteen?!” Felix shrieks into your ear making you flinch, “my class starts in five minutes, you have to get there by then!”
“Just wait out in the hallway, surely your prof’s not gonna kill you for being ten minutes late.”
“No, probably not but I’ll have to do that walk of shame ten minutes into the class and sit in the front seat…can’t you just run?”
“Felix I’m not running,” you retort sternly.
“I can drive you,” the new voice makes you turn around, Minho standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, eyes expectantly boring into yours.
“Is that Minho hyung? Great, he can drive you, I’ll see you in five minutes!”
“No, Felix–”
The beeping sound indicates that he had already hung up and you are resigned to hesitantly lower your phone from your ear and regard Minho cautiously as if you were gauging his intentions.
“It won’t take long if I just drive and Felix will probably chew your head off if we keep him waiting for too long, so let’s go,” Minho is already running a hand through his hair which is still very dishevelled while snatching his car keys from.
Quite literally, you find yourself being ushered out and into his car that you had been so accustomed to a few months ago, seemingly having no say in the matter that had been decided upon by the two roommates. You’re still in denial of the whole nostalgic sentiments resurfacing when you’re so much so close to an old habit like now, finding yourself sitting in his car as he drives you to campus. It still smells like lemon fresheners and the seats are still covered in cat hair that sticks to your jeans. You can almost hear the reminiscents of the shared laughter and kisses that had accompanied the long night drives and the coffee stain on the back seat that had remained engraved on the fabric from nights ago.
And like so many other times, your hand itches to just reach out and smoothen his tousled hair and tuck the label of his shirt under the collar and pull him in for a chaste kiss. The scent of chocolate that lingers on his clothes is overpowering, the sweetness making your throat dry up and chest constrict.
It’s suffocating, to say the least, and while it certainly weighs your chest down and numbs your mind like it so often does when it comes to rifling through these shared memories of Minho, you’re vividly aware of the said man gripping his steering wheel a little too hard. Perhaps the opportunity of doing you a favour had clouded his judgement of exactly how nervous it made him to be around you too long.
The ride is uncharacteristically silent; you grip on to the folder now in your arms like a shield in front of your chest, there to protect you from whatever it was lurking in the silence to pounce at you at any given chance and Minho bit his lips till he could taste a faint metallic tang on his tongue, swallowing the saltiness of a confrontation he was always cautious of but never knew when to expect.
And if you spend the entire day surfing through the countless websites offering advice on how to be entirely over an ex, no one had to be any wiser of it.
eight.
It’s seven days to Valentine's day, which means seven days of absolute misery for Minho and when Minho is miserable, he coops himself up in the dance studio.
As the days go by, he’s feeling less and less convinced of himself, and he fears his resolve will ultimately be reduced to a wisp of smoke in thin air, dissolving into nothingness.
For starters, he’s finding it difficult to believe that of all the goddamned people on this planet, he’s waiting to confess to you on valentine’s day, a day he had always felt bitter about to some extent. But then he falls into this vicious cycle of losing his mind over the fact that he’s going to confess to you in the first place, eventually finding himself zoning out of his daily activities as he has another mental breakdown over how exactly he was supposed to do that. How does one confess after all?
He assumes it might have been easier had you both not have already broken up and you didn't hate him – here Felix strongly interjects, stating that you, in fact, didn’t hate him, but who was to know – and how silly this all was, but he loved you.
And as he slowly let this piece of information settle, it only stirred up a gust of agitated feelings like dust in a sunny patch. He noticed how his chest squeezed at your sight, like it was trying to force it all out of his ribs, how the slightest discrepancy between his fair judgement and his elevated heart rate were always inclining towards the latter.
There is not a single seed of doubt as to what he feels about you or for you, but somewhere sitting calmly in the pile of emotions he had collected over the months, was a misplaced sense of overwhelming agitation he couldn’t help but creep up like a parasite. Leaving you boxes of chocolates on your desk and ordering you coffee felt like an immature and childish redemptive gesture, which was only reduced to a cowering dog in front of a beast when that parasite wiggled around, reaching out with its arms to move and expand.
But he missed you and he kept telling himself that.
Neither of you had ever tread into that territory however, the one where words were exchanged with a meaningful implication, it was just there. A sense of belongingness and happiness when he was with you, but also the chain of guilt and confusion weighing him down till he could no longer take it and burst out.
The fight was huge, the confrontation had been a source of getting all the heaviness on his chest to slowly be lifted, till he realised that there are some things which are only clear when you say them out loud and even though sometimes they are better left unsaid, the hurting only lasts so long before relief settles in.
Minho thinks, had he not said anything back then, none of this would have been so messed up. If he had just kept quiet and slowly immersed himself in this new feeling, or better still talked it out without such blunt implications, time would have helped him; but then he would also have been partially lying to himself and to you.
There wasn’t another person, heck he didn’t even fall out of endearment, it just took him some time to come to the conclusion that his feelings had been there all along but when he opened his mouth, all he had implied was that he had not been in love with you, in fact, this might have all been a ruse in the first place – it was understandable that you believed he had no feelings for you in the first place.
A load of miscommunication and the insinuation of his words had hurt him, but probably not more than it affected you. You had put a whole year into this relationship, given it your all, liked him even before you started dating, all to be left high and dry with a ‘I need some time’. He sounded like an asshole even to himself.
He had put you on the front line of his own internal dilemma, used you as an excuse to come to terms with his feelings and taken you for granted. Put in a bit of fucking around and he would be no less than a fuckboy. In fact, he didn’t deem himself worthy of your attention nor respect anymore.
While his anxiety built up, it’s basis feeding off the numerous insecurities that drowned him in it’s waves, his detachment from you grew larger and larger like a seam slowly but surely tearing apart at the edges and when finally undone, the uncertainty of where you would be in the future, whether you would be together or not, whether what he was feeling and doing for you was enough or bordering on sufficient to keep this relationship afloat. The little seed of doubt and indecisiveness had already sprouted up and begun growing like a parasite and while he never entirely got rid of it, it was starting to stir again in the pits of his stomach now.
He was now set out to face the remains of his destruction, rebuilding what he had hammered down and wrecked.
“Hyung,” a voice calls out, making him look up from the ground where he sat panting after the exertion of his dancing and thoughts.
“What are you still doing here? We’ve got class in a few…” Felix makes his way over to the sweaty boy, handing him a towel from the bench and passing one of the plastic bottles always in stock for the students, uncapping the lid to ensure the elder drank it.
“Do you think I should stop?”
“Stop what?” The confusion in Felix’s voice was clear at the abruptness of the question.
A heavy sigh fell off Minho’s lips, eyes staring blankly ahead at the mirror where he gazed at himself tiredly.
“Trying to make things right, I mean. I feel like I keep messing up… I did last time, when I thought that I was doing the right thing but it ended up being, probably the worst decision I’ve made, and talking out didn’t help. I’m not sure it’ll help this time either.”
The defeated slump of Minho’s shoulders is accentuated by the light from the half open windows, the afternoon sunlight sliding down the curve of his back and falling in a pool around him like a beacon of light, jeering at his pathetic state. His miserable foreboding was not allowing him to break out of his little cocoon of insecurities and the ultimate fear of losing you and the universe seemed to be playing its part in dramatising it with its elements.
Minho is unsure of his own actions at this point, his intentions in a muled pool of whether he was trying to reduce his guilt and doing this for his own sake or whether he wanted this for more than selfish reasons.
“Do you love them hyung?”
The question is like a sharp arrow shooting past his face, the wind whittling and ruffling his hair like a shot of breath; it almost leaves Minho breathless but alleviated from the dull slump he was in.
Felix looked on expectantly, but Minho was at a loss for words, staring back back at him with eyes that seemed hopeful of an answer from the inquirer himself. It’s like waiting patiently for someone to answer their own question if you stay silent long enough, and Minho wouldn’t mind favouring an answer that was spoon fed to him in tiny little bite sized chunks, easy to digest but what was even more convenient was that he wouldn’t have to do anything himself except chew and swallow.
He only wished that it were that easy, except of course it wasn’t and no one could feed him an answer to that. He hated Felix, for asking him something so intimate and for the further turmoil it caused him but more so because he had asked him something that deep within he knew the answer to, but as it had been the root of all causes he had stirred up, he was afraid to voice out loud, and he knew that ultimately he would have to confront that thought.
“You know what I think hyung?” Felix maintains his level tone, choosing his words carefully but never pausing in his thoughts, quite obviously unsurprised at the lack of an answer, “I think you know what you are doing and what you should be doing and also the answer to my question. You’re just too afraid to face your feelings and you think letting the guilt eat you up would make (y/n) feel better; that it would make you feel better even if just marginally. What you don’t realise is how much this is hurting you both, to see each other moping around and so upset at the other’s state.”
Minho is surprised at the words coming out of the younger’s mouth, his unexpected third person perspective a source he had not expected he would have an insight to, but all the same finding it hard to believe that you would have any mutual feeling about the same.
“I think,” Felix pauses, regarding the ground and the patches of sunlight on it with great interest, “it's time you stopped hiding behind your excuses and talked to them.”
Felix leaves after his final words, oddly feeling like he had done something monumental, leaving a befuddled Minho sitting on the floor.
There was the subtle churning in his stomach again, like he had just been told to suck up his fear of heights and jump, except this time he was almost entirely certain he wouldn’t mind the drop.
nine.
Hyunjin and Jisung were being disgusting, but they looked cute all cuddled up on your couch with their eyes barely open, scrolling through the numerous confessions you had received in the span of three more days.
You hide a smile when Jisung nuzzles his head in Hyunjin’s chest, the latter whining at having to change his position, pulling the shorter boy closer so now they were practically lying on top of each other.
“This was a bad idea,” Hyunjin says, sighing as he carefully places the laptop on your coffee table, kicking his feet out and quite literally straddling Jisung in his arms. Jisung seemed to be too tired to protest or splutter nervously at the open show of affection, readily giving in to this soft moment, yet not meeting your eyes because he could feel your teasing smile all the way across the couch.
“I don’t know why we didn’t put a limit to this, it’s like all I’ve been doing is reading confessions and they all look the same! Why didn’t you stop me (y/n)?!”
“Hey, I thought this was your idea!” you retort, chucking a cushion at him that elicits a groan from the boy, “besides, you can’t deny people’s confessions, it’s not like they’re for you.”
Hyunjin looks up when you snicker at him, “Was that a challenge? You think I haven’t had people confess to me this year?”
“Have you?” Jisung’s attention is momentarily piqued; you manage to pass the chortle you couldn’t suppress as a cough.
Hyunjin manages to soothe the boy back on his chest, patting his hair and shushing him to rest his eyes after all the squinting at the bright screens. You could almost see the hearts oozing out of his eyes as he stared at the boy on his chest now softly snoring.
“You guys are gross by the way, all this pining is making my head hurt,” you state out, expecting Hyunjin to deny your accusation but it doesn’t come.
“I’m planning on confessing,” he simply says, his voice low and eyes droopy, fingers carding through Jisung’s hair who now looked like even a fire alarm couldn’t wake him up from his slumber.
Momentarily forgetting about your own statement, you sit up straight so suddenly, it almost makes you crick your neck, “Wait, what?”
How could Hyunjin be so calm about this all? No less, it looked like it wasn’t such a big deal to him, like he was simply validating what you said. It just felt like the most right thing to be done, as if all the clues and hints had been there all along.
“Don’t act so surprised, I’m not entirely oblivious you know? I’ve liked him for a while now, I thought you all knew?” He turns to you expectantly, but you can only gape at him in surprise.
“I mean, yeah but! What the actual fuck?!”
“Really impressed with your immaculate vocabulary, so precise, I love it~”
“Shut up, you know what I mean!”
“Actually I don’t, this was long due.”
“Wow,”
“Again with the impeccable stock of words~”
“Stop teasing me,” you whine, unable to contain the smile that was bursting out, genuinely happy for him. Your restrained squealing is what finally makes Hyunjin flush, hiding his face with one hand but his lips mirroring your smile.
“How do you plan on doing it? You’re gonna be pretty busy at the photography booth,” you questioned, abandoning your work and grabbing a cushion in your lap, leaning into conversation indulgently; you needed the break anyway.
Hyunjin doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze flickering between the laptop and the sleeping boy.
“No way…” the sudden implication of the entire thing hits you and you’re almost on the verge of yelling out loud, but stop yourself just in time, “did you do this entire confession thing so you could confess?!”
“No…”
“Bullshit, you sly bitch!”
“Hush, you’re gonna wake him up!”
“Aha, so you do admit it!”
“I said nothing,” Hyunjin is stubborn, but you can tell from the way his cheeks turn a dusty shade of pink and he squirms in his place, his resolve only barely being held by a thread had it not been for the Jisung who was still sound asleep, unaware of everything that was happening.
“That’s abusing your authority,” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest, but you were honestly dying to hold this as leverage over him.
“Is not! It was a legit suggestion and the planning committee all had a say in this matter!”
“Yeah, the planning committee that you head, therefore making you the final decision maker and of course you play it to your favour!”
Hyunjin groans, his will to fight you over this subdued when Jisung stirs in his sleep and he holds a breath in fear of having been heard but nope, the boy just mumbles something in his sleep and goes back to snoring.
“Hyunjin, you’re simping, stop looking at him with so much love,” you gag, your only aim in your life seemingly becoming an unstoppable drive to tease the living daylights out of your friend.
“What about you, I heard you’ve got yourself an admirer,” Hyunjin quickly defends his stance.
“Don’t change the subject, you can’t fight this.”
“What about Minho, does he know?”
Although Seungmin has been dubbed as the one who’s brutally confrontational. You think Hyunjin has an equal hold of that title in your group with his unwittingly innocent setups that make you fall in your own traps and the stupid victorious glint in his eyes after succeeding in doing so.
“Rude, you don’t have to rub my failed love life in my face, loverboy,” you pout, trying to hide the sudden pain that had spiked in your chest at the mention of the name that had recently been making turns in your head. The very image of the unexpected domesticity of Minho in the kitchen baking had strung your heart with a sharp twang of longingness.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Hyunjin sighs, repositioning himself on your couch as you’re the one left squirming in your seat now.
You know what Hyunjin means, but you would rather not talk about it. In fact, you definitely didn’t want to talk about anytime soon, when all you’ve been doing for the past few days is reading endless confessions and sappy love stories and imagining what it would have been like to be on the receiving end of one of these letters. You’ve tried, on many occasions, to discern the writing patterns and trying to figure out whether one of these could have been sent in by Minho, but of course that’s silly and he would never do something like that but you hope – you so desperately hope for something.
Hyunjin sees the look of turmoil plastered all over your face, your sad eyes and downturned lips.
“(y/n), can you say that you’re entirely over him?”
The words are quiet, but a dissonance in the near silence of the room that is broken by soft snores. You don’t trust yourself to look him in the eye and lie, because you find that you can’t tell him the truth either. The lie you’ve been feeding yourself for months now is like a fraying rope of twines coming undone the more you tug at it; Hyunjin had so easily managed to break your lie open with a few words, you wonder whether he was right after all; whether your heart had been into building this lie and keeping it intact after all.
Because it's hard to pretend not to notice Minho looking out for you and it’s much harder to ignore the burn in your chest when he smiles even though you’re mean to him. It’s kept you awake for nights, months after everything was over – months after you should have been over it all, to have forgotten and forgiven and moved on without ever looking back – but you always find yourself thinking about him; always looking back and finding his face in the crowd without searching for it, finding his little smile and tucking it carefully in a corner of your heart.
And when you’re alone, without his constant assuring presence, you lie to yourself and convince yourself that the stolen smile tickling that corner of your heart was never meant for you to keep in the first place. You lie a little more when you tell yourself that you don't care anymore.
Hyunjin is so skillfully there to bring your lies to the forefront just like how he was there to accompany you in your ice cream marathon, with a bag full of snacks and two whole boxes of tissue with a sufficient supply of some old and sappy rom-coms when you had first cried your heart out after the breakup. When you had bawled about not being good enough to be loved, but most utterly, entirely broken about it all being a lie.
So he knows what it is you’ve been feeling this entire time, maybe not calling you out on it, but definitely there to remind you that there were still so many chances of putting this right, because believe it or not, even your lies have been lying to you.
ten.
Three days to Valentine’s and you felt like the universe was playing it’s most cruel game with you, but it was also making sure that you were still in the game, no matter how weak willed or how close to the edge of giving up you were.
Keeping up with your part time job and the planning for the big valentine’s day celebration, which you had inevitably been more than engaged in given the need for extra hand, had you sitting beside Minho now, shoulders touching and peering at the poster design Hyunjin had changed his mind about in the last minute.
In fact, Hyunjin had changed his mind about a lot of things, which included making a new banner for the Sweet Treats and therefore having to come up with a new ensign for the posters, because he wanted it to complement each other. It was either you stuck having to cut out large hearts out of glittery foam for the new banner – which you had already been given word weeks ago you wouldn’t be required to, but when have men ever kept their word? – or it was brainstorming over the poster design.
And that’s how you found yourself sitting in the very corner of the computer lab, squeezed in between the wall and Minho, the only seat you had managed to grab because all the other computers were taken, working in a forced mental quietude with the rhythmic drone of the students in the background.
The obligatory drumming of your thoughts came as a result from half an hour ago, when Minho had been forced to scoot over to your side by a group of unruly seniors who were having a loud discussion about topics your brain could not comprehend. But that was okay, because it was nothing compared to the fact that Hyunjin had absolutely forgotten to mention the ‘someone’ who was going to help you out was Minho. But even that was fine, because quite frankly, your mind is too buzzed to process anything, let alone supply valuable help to the boy beside you, who was actually doing the work, while you sat there, hyperventilating about your shoulders touching.
You’ve not been in such close proximity with Minho in a while, and while it never made you nervous in a bad way when you were in a relationship, now it made your stomach flutter and take flight whenever he leaned in close to mutter something about the shade of burgundy and his breath fanned across your ear.
You feel a shiver run down your spine when he leaned forward again, this time squinting at the text before leaning back again with a frown on his face. You pressed your lips in a smile – typical Lee Minho at work; he would stare at the same thing for hours on end till he could figure out what made it look even marginally better than the original format. It was a small habit that had always been there that you hadn’t even noticed you had taken note of in the first place, only realising that it was one of the things you had always liked about him, without even realising it.
Minho had had this way of easing himself into your life, seeping his habits and lifestyle into yours so subtly and gradually, that you had never quite gotten over the shock of not waking up to it any longer. It was like a part of you had been wiped off entirely, a hand pulled out of a glove in the freezing cold. It never sat right with you and you never got used to it.
Minho steals a glance at you, finding you staring straight ahead with the look you had when you were lost in your thoughts. He’s unsure if it’s because you don’t find his incessant stubbornness to get the perfect shade of red correct or you just weren’t feeling well. Well, you did look tired, he knows you stayed up all night sorting out the anonymous confession box thing he had briefly heard about from Hyunjin, and he knew you had a shift later in the evening at the convenience store. Maybe he should just tell you to leave? But that would make it seem like he could do the entire work all by himself and didn’t value your opinions but that wasn’t the case; if anything he wanted to be able to ask you to rest your head on his shoulder and get some shut eye but! He couldn’t do that either! Curse his fate!
“Hey,” your voice breaks his agitation, “wanna go get some coffee?”
For a moment you think you’ve stunned Minho into temporary speech loss but then you replay the past five seconds in you remind and realise that you’ve just asked Minho for coffee, which you were starting to hope he would decline and you could just leave awkwardly after that–
“Sure, let’s go.”
Minho is past the stage of caring, all he knows is that you offered to get coffee with him first and he was in no position to turn you down.
Normally, a coffee run would excite you but today the five minute walk to the cafe you frequent is no less than a nervous stride of awkwardness. Your heels ache with all the pressure you put out in walking, you change the way you breath at least nine times, every time closer to a skittish cliff in the fear of being too loud. You’re really worried about breathing too loudly; now you’ve seen it all.
Minho is no better. His stupid hands keep bumping into yours and the occasional cyclist makes him scoot closer to you but he’s too timid to walk behind you or in front of you. God, what happened to when he could pull you along in a good humoured headlock and berate you for your fifth cup of the caffeinated drink in an hour; he knows it’s not your first cup of the day, he can smell it on you. And he hates it so much, the mere thought of feeling the taste on his lips when he would kiss you, now he’s really resorting to inhaling the coffee scent so familiar to you.
His hand itches to pull you back and away from this stupid walk and away from it all where you could both start over again, but he’s quick to extinguish that thought; overindulging in sweet fantasies only made him long for you more.
He lets out a breath of relief he hadn’t realised he was holding when the cafe comes into view and you both enter.
“Oh hi, it’s you. Do you want the blueberry muffins today–”
Minho’s frantic gesturing cuts the barista off, their eyes widening when they see you come up, apparently digging around your bag for your wallet and they shut up immediately. You don’t seem to have heard the near slip up though, too invested in shovelling through your bag.
Without thinking, Minho’s hand reaches up to yours, your head snapping up at him and the frown on your brows slipping away into a surprised look.
“Just order, I’ll pay.”
“You don’t have to, I just need to find my–”
“Please?” The gentle squeeze on your wrist and the soft eyes appealing to you makes it difficult to turn him down. You reluctantly agree, placing your orders and waiting to have them to go since neither of you wanted to spend too much time inside the cafe that was already adorned in red streamers, the yearly specials menu of drinks and pastries making you grimace at the chessiness with which the names had been chosen. Jesus, you’d be embarrassed to even read those out.
Minho doesn’t know how to start a conversation with you anymore, his fingers drumming nervously on the counter until your drinks are out and it was killing him to stand a few feet apart from you when all around he could see couples practically sitting on each other’s laps.
You’re both glad when you’re able to leave, Minho paying and turning a brilliant shade of red when the barista hands you a blueberry muffin wrapped in plastic with a bow on top of it, citing it to be ‘on the house’ and winking at you. He’s so busy pretending not to have anything to do with this little coincidence that he doesn’t notice you speaking. When your words register though, he wishes he hadn't heard you in the first place.
“So uhh,” you start off hesitantly, taking a small sip of your drink as Minho does the same, “I’ve got some of your stuff back in my apartment, you should come by and…take them back. Sometime, when you’re free…”
It physically pains you to speak those words out, your throat constricting and this time you make sure you’re not even trying to gauge Minho’s reaction. Had you actually looked his way, you would have noticed his clenched jaws and the flash of hurt in his eyes that he doesn’t try to mask.
“That’s what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“What?”
“The coffee, you just wanted to– you know what, never mind. I’ll drop by tomorrow to get my stuff.”
Though you had expected a reaction akin to this, the sudden coldness in his voice and his stony eyes made your heart drop. You felt guilty about bringing this up and maybe you could have tried a gentler approach, but all the same, you couldn’t put this off any longer either.
Without another word, Minho stalks off with the bitter taste of his drink infusing in his tongue like a harsh slap of reality, leaving you staring at his back forlornly as it grew smaller with every step he took.
eleven.
You opened the door in a loose sweater, the sleeves engulfing your hands in sweater paws and the resolve with which Minho had purposefully rang your doorbell with, was already starting to slip away.
Minho finds it near impossible to step inside your small apartment, knowing the walls around him would bring back too many memories he had tried hard to suppress all night the day before, screaming into his pillow in frustration when they had inadvertently bobbed back up like a cork in water, stubbornly reminding him of why he had to be here in the first place.
The first thing he notices on entering is the cardboard box on the coffee table; things only get harder from there.
He’s unsure of what to do with his hands, his head feels too big for his neck and he’s constantly tumbling down an endless spiral of emotions the longer he stares at the empty spaces in your house that once used to be filled up with his trinkets. The feeling refuses to subside when he rummages through the box, picking out articles that punch him square in the chest.
“I thought you liked this hoodie,” he picks up blue coloured fabric, careful not to crease the fold.
You shrugged in response, you only liked it because it smelt like his scent.
As he keeps going through everything inside the box, he’s visibly upset at how you haven’t spared even the smallest of things; his half empty bottle of citrus bodywash, an empty diary from last year he had bought for himself out of impulse, his favourite fountain pen that had rolled under the drawer and he had never bothered to retrieve, until he stumbles upon the small velvet box he couldn’t forget even if he wanted to.
“I got this for your birthday,” his voice rose unexpectedly on opening it and finding the silver chain intactly placed inside, obviously trying hard not to lose his mind and snap at you for the wrong reasons, but how could you return this?
“Yeah well, you also told me that you loved me right after, so it kind of lost all its meaning.” the defensive tone was not intentional, but it was exactly what it was supposed to be – a front up against Minho’s own offence.
“What must I do to make you believe that it was real?”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” you were ready to walk away the moment he brought up the topic, leaving him to sort things out but a tug on your wrist, harsher than intended, makes you stop in your tracks.
“I want to talk about this,” Minho is comparatively calmer now, but his eyes are livid and not at you but himself. Yet, a part of him, though wary of the sense of deja vu he was having standing here in a similar predicament as when you had broken up, can’t seem to understand you at all. He acknowledges your anger and resentment, doesn’t try to question the way you avoid him at all costs but for the life of him, absolutely can’t understand why you wouldn’t talk.
“You never gave me a chance to explain anything (y/n), you just assumed the worst and refused to believe me even after I tried so hard to explain – to show you that I love you, yet it’s like you’ve built up this huge wall that you refuse to let down and for what? What are you so afraid of, is it confrontation? What is it? Tell me, because I sure as hell don’t understand why we can’t just talk about this?!”
“Oh so it’s my fault now?! This is how you truly feel, don’t you? All those stupid boxes of chocolates and paying for my coffee and those stupid fucking blueberry muffins – I don’t even like blueberry muffins, I only ate them because you liked them! – all that was just so you could feel better about yourself, wasn’t it? And now I’ve hurt your ego by returning what’s yours, so it’s my fault!”
Your voices were slowly rising with every syllable, the anger in your eyes directed at each other in furious glares and the confrontation that never truly happened finally tumbling out in more hurtful words.
“You knew about that?” Minho breathes out shortly, the grip of his fingers around your wrist loosening when your eyes tear up.
“Not until yesterday I didn’t, but you had your fun right? Bet you enjoyed every second of it,” you hate yourself for tearing up so easily, for letting his words affect you so much that it made you shrivel up and cower in fear of more. There was something about his anger that hurt you even more than before.
The venom in your voice was amiss, the way it tumbled out wrapped in hurt and vulnerability and yet again, Minho is reminded of exactly how much he had messed up, all over again.
“I didn’t do it so I could gloat at you or have fun,” he breathes out, rubbing his face tiredly, “I’m so sick of not being able to talk to you or hold you or even–”
His words are cut short, trapped at the back of his throat and he swallows them down forcefully, heaving his chest in exertion and blinking his eyes rapidly.
“I love you, I really do (y/n), believe me please.”
What are you even supposed to say? The same man had told you, six months into your relationship, that he had in fact not been sure of his feelings for you, immediately nullifying any meaning behind the three syllables he had so often muttered in your ears or against your lips, and now here he was saying the same thing. How were you expected to not not let this affect you?
“Stop it, I don’t believe you anymore.”
“Give me a chance,” the sniffle breaks you, ripping your insides and swallowing you in a pit of your own pity. You won’t look at him, you won’t listen to him.
Lee Minho does not love you. He will never love, and you must convince yourself of that, no matter how much your heart faltered at the decision.
“No.”
Minho nods his head at the floor, slowly putting everything inside the box again and when the final article is put away, he stands up awkwardly with it in his hands, desperately trying to search for a single ounce of hesitance in your eyes, but you refuse to look up.
“Are you sure about this?”
No, you’re not sure what you’re sure of anymore. But this feels wrong; so, so wrong and yet this guarantees you a safeguard to your feelings, a way to ensure that you don't wear your heart on your sleeve.
“Yes.”
“Okay…okay.”
The door closes behind Minho, the silence in your house echoing against the walls and you’re left standing alone again. Outside your door, Minho stands motionless, slowly letting the parasite squirming in his stomach to reach out for his heart and squeeze it till he could no longer breathe.
twelve.
If love was in the air was a literal concept, this would be it.
The halls were bursting with over buzzed students trying out the various booths that had been put up. It had taken your and Jisung’s combined efforts and reassurances to convince Hyunjin to get a breather and man his own photography booth that he had abandoned in a panicked frenzy of ensuring all the others were running smoothly, leaving poor Jisung to fend off by himself.
The halls were entirely decked with pink and red streamers with posters pointing towards various booths put up along with balloons. The quadrant was set up with kiosks and food stalls, lovely flower arrangements lining up the perimeter, and glitter! There was so much glitter everywhere, most of the planning committee that had been directly involved in dealing with it still had specks of it in their hair, and though they gave Hyunjin the stank eye once in a while, anybody could tell they were proud of their hard work and happy about it too. Hyunjin had really gone all out, you doubted he had spared a single penny of their budget from going into this.
As for you, you were mostly in the announcement room helping with the setup and ensuring all the PA systems were connected to the hallways and running. It temporarily helped in taking your mind off things because boy was your mind buzzing with countless thoughts.
It had been only two days – two days since you turned down Minho, two days since you stopped receiving handmade chocolates and pre-ordered coffee, two days of classes without Minho, two days of nervously holding your breath in every class you shared with him for him to turn up, only to find out that the boy had seemingly disappeared the face of the earth.
Two days of Minho not being anywhere near you and you felt like you had committed the greatest crime in the universe.
Trying to talk to Felix had been futile; he had been in and out of classes in a fretful scurry, mumbling about the humongous amount of baking that had to be done for the D-day and all he could supply you with was a non-committal excuse about being busy.
In short, you hadn’t seen nor heard nor heard of Minho in the past forty eight hours, and now you were worried. Funny how the tables had turned, but oh well, irony doesn’t leave anyone unattended.
So far you had managed to pass off the gurgling pit of of anxiety reflected on your face as nerves about talking into the PA; Hyunjin had been to caught up in his worries and accepted the explanation, but it was a hard pass against Felix who you were currently standing across the booth from, trying to divert his attention with compliments about his cookies.
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he deadpans, your eyes blinking at him innocently as you chew on the delicacy. You had about half an hour to report to the broadcasting room, so you were whiling away your time trying to pry whatever information you could about Minho from his roommate, stealthily disguising it under a veil of compliments. It wasn’t working.
“I know something happened between you, you don’t have to pretend (y/n),” he rolls his eyes before turning to a customer with a smile and attending to them. The duality, you do not deserve such slander. But you do decide to drop with the pretence.
“I just want to know if he’s fine, okay? I think I…I was too harsh.”
This was true, but also very embarrassing to admit. It was like one of those moments in life where you say or do something and the immediate train of regret hits you with full force, derailing you from your own resolution and dumping your limp body in a sea of embarrassment and strong desire to turn back time.
Having second thoughts was sadly a part of this whole ordeal, the deal sealed off with a nice pinch of passionate frustration and a confused temperament. Yet, you do not find yourself willing to stand up to the challenge of facing and amending the distress you were left reeling with.
There was a lot you had to admit, the heaviness of your pent up feelings weighing you down but you didn’t know how to say it out loud.
“Listen,” Felix’s attention is on you again, but not for long as more people approach him, “I don’t know what’s going on between you guys, but even a five year old can tell that there’s definitely something between you guys. Now I know I’ve never been in a relationship and definitely have no concept of timely damage control, but if you want to make things right, do it now. I don’t want to graduate from this hellhole watching two of my friends become strangers. It doesn’t matter if you don’t get back together, but you can’t let yourselves be ripped apart like this, okay?”
“I know you both love each other,” his words spread like a warm fire through you, “but you’re both idiots who won’t admit it.” Wrong, Minho did admit it, you were just too scared to let him have a part of your heart again after the first time. This was on you, and it was starting to feel scary to bear such a burden.
“And if you tell me that a month from now, you can walk past each other in the hall as if nothing had happened like there was no history between you two, I might believe you. But if you tell me that you didn’t regret doing this in the future, I will laugh in your face, because damn you would have to be convincing to lie like that.”
Stunned, you can only nod at him meekly, gulping down the bitter taste at the back of your throat at the mention of becoming estranged with someone you loved so dearly.
“Don’t do this…this wallowing in self pity and pretending to be okay when you both know it’s far from that, just go talk to each other.”
Felix finishes with a pat on your shoulder and a gentle squeeze before leaving you to walk away with heavy steps and a strong desire to dash to the nearest washroom to force those tears back.
You realise that the first step had been to confess the very fact – Minho was someone you loved. The thought of graduating and leaving this place without him by your side was daunting. He had been half of the reasons this place had been bearable. Beyond the four walls with a projector overhead, and a professor droning about something you were too distracted to register, he had always been there to pass notes to you with silly doodles or sent you cat memes to while the time or scratched out wobbly stars in the corner of your notebooks. The little things that you had stored as memories were resurfacing and the heavy realisation of your endearing affection for them was settling in.
Everything suddenly felt overwhelming; your thoughts were tangled in a numb mess making your head throb with a dull thud. The beautiful decorations around you were a blur of red, the loud buzzing of excited people, a drone in your ears.
Love was in the air, but you were out of breath, suffocating as the voices inside your head drowned you out from the world.
thirteen.
You and Seungmin had done about a fifty confessions in three hours, all with a periodic music break where Changbin and Chan would take over, belting out beats and occasionally promoting their band. You were sure Hyunjin wouldn't mind, especially not when it was 3racha in question; the entire campus was in love with the trio.
Hyunjin had burst into the room during one such song break, cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling – literally twinkling in happiness – and spluttered out in an excited mess about how he had seen at least a dozen people ask each other out after the confessions were read out.
“Only a dozen? We’ve read about fifty of these…” Seungmin said monotonously, but Hyunjin was seemingly unfettered with the less than enthusiastic reaction.
“I’ve seen a dozen, but who knows how many more are out there? Cheer up Seungmin, I’ll get you a coffee – in fact, I’ll get you all a snack, my treat for working so hard!”
Well, someone was definitely in a good mood, and neither of you were going to turn down the offer of free food and drinks. Besides, you did kind of deserve it after all.
Aside from one bathroom break, you had stayed inside the broadcasting room for most part of the day, volunteering to stay back when the crew wanted to go out and enjoy for a while. Oh and, you had also messaged Felix every half an hour, inquiring whether Minho had come to the fest and every time he had responded with a variation of ‘not yet’ and ‘I haven’t seen him yet’. There might have been a reason you were trying not to leave this room yet.
The rational part of you agreed that calling the man in question would yield better results, but the emotional part of you decided against it if you didn’t want to freeze up at the sound of his voice and burst into tears in the middle of a sappy confession.
Speaking of confessions, it was your turn for another one and it seemed awfully familiar the moment you read out the name. Seungmin gestures at you just as Chan drowns out the last notes of the current song playing and signals for you to start.
“That was ‘On Track’, produced by none other than our favourite trio, 3racha! And now it’s time for another lovely confession! This one’s from loverboy20,” you smile, knowing only too well who this was, slightly excited at how this was going to turn out since you don’t remember reading this before, “to the guy who’s been on his mind since freshman year.”
“Hi, it’s loverboy20 here and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do this but heck, if I don’t do this now, I’ll never get down to it and then I’m going to regret my entire life about not asking out the cute guy I’ve had a crush on for ages and…I’m rambling now.
I would go back and type this out all over again, but you need to know exactly how hard this is for me and I’ve already been staring at my screen for an hour, unsure of what to type because I have no idea what to say or how to go about this but forgive me, I hope you won’t hate me entirely once this is over.
I saw you first in the freshman orientation and thought you were kinda cute with your flannel shirt and beanie. You looked like the cool kid with your guitar, sitting in the row in front of me and putting in your headphones. I don’t think anyone noticed but me – they weren’t even connected to your phone. It was cute, you were I mean…you still are.
And then I met you in the talent show where we got paired up for the impromptu segment and we had this huge fight about rapping better and dancing better and…long story short, the crush I had on you was slowly starting to feel questionable. But! But then just as I was starting to get over it, you go ahead and do something stupidly cute like paying for my americano because I didn’t have money on me and saving me from embarrassing myself. I think we started hitting it off from there and then…well, it just happened. Like…I started falling for you more and then one day it was like getting hit by a train full of those feelings. I mean, you were right there in front of me in your flannel shirt again and I just suddenly felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me.
This is…oh my god, this is so embarrassing, I’m basically rambling about how you made me fall for you oh my god…anyway…it just felt right.
Being with you, spending even the passing moments between hectic classes just getting coffee or sailing up late to talk to you while you worked; it made me happy and I want to keep doing it. I like you, a lot. You make me so happy and I have to physically stop my heart from leaping out when you’re around and can you please not hold my hands without a warning, it makes me nervous…no actually, you can hold my hand if you want to. If you want to, if you don’t hate me already. I’m just shooting my shot, you probably don’t like me and I might never be able to face you again after this, but yeah…okay.
If you don’t already know, this is for you, Han Jisung. My confession probably sucked, I can’t write beautiful words like you do or belt out a song like you but I really, really like you. That’s that then. This is loverboy20, and if you plan on getting back to me, I’ll be working with you in the photography booth.”
Jesus fucking Christ, Hyunjin had really done it. Changbin had positively squealed after the confession, hitting Chan in the chest and pretending to cry; you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had actually cried. Seungmin had also been smiling, unable to stop the surprised chuckle when he heard Jisung’s name. Chan just looked like a proud dad sending his kids off to school for the first time.
Something about this spiel had broken you though.
It felt right…
That’s what Hyunjin said. It felt right when he was with Jisung and it made him happy. And knowing Jiusng’s side of the story, his mutual feelings for him which no doubt would be finally conveyed now, they had both ultimately worked it out through their differences and fallen for each other right?
The phrase bugged you. It stuck to you like leech, sucking on your mind incessantly until you realised what it was. But of course, that’s exactly how you always felt with Minho. It had felt so right, just like the night Hyunjin had first told you, like this was meant to be and the feeling is so oddly familiar, it drowns you in it’s simplicity like a warm hug comforting you after a gruesome fight of heart over mind and you realise that wearing your heart on your sleeves was worth it if it was Minho.
It was Minho all along; you would always go back to him because you know – and the enormity of the realisation settles in with a relief – that he’s loved you since the beginning. He had taken time getting there, maybe he had never realised or indeed never had feelings for you romantically, but he had been there as your friend always. He was there with warm soup when you were sick, with his childish berating when you pulled one too many all-nighters, there with an umbrella when you were stuck without one on campus, there to kiss you goodnight after every date.
Minho waited till he was entirely sure of his feelings for you, because in the end he was afraid of hurting you. And even then he only spoke the truth; all he wanted was your trust and time. You trust his feelings, he’s never meant to harm you before nor now. You just forgot to trust the process and the time it took for him to get there and it ashames you now.
You didn’t cry all those weeks after the breakup because you had found it hard to accept that he hadn’t loved you just as much as you did. You had cried because you knew he did, for he had trusted you enough to tell you that, but he hadn’t found it in himself to let you down in fear of losing you. And wasn’t that what both of you had been afraid of? Treading around each other like you were walking on a floor made of glass, the inevitable fear of stepping too hard and losing each other in the midst of the million shards you would tumble down with.
There was a way – a final chance – to put this right.
What you were about to do would probably haunt you for life if it all went wrong but you loved him. You love him. You know this. And that’s where you’ll start – by accepting it.
fourteen.
Minho can’t fathom why he’s here. He should be anywhere but here, feeling swaddled by all the couples and the cute couple games and the over-the-top decorations.
He hates it all and he hates your voice over the speaker right now, reading out Hyunjin’s confession. He was there in person to witness Hyunjin growing redder by the second and Jisung’s brain trying to process everything. Cute, disgustingly cute. That could have been you and him.
He spots Felix’s booth in the midst of all the chaos, the boy himself looking flushed as he was constantly on the run. Word had spread about his bake sale, and people had started flocking to his booth, leaving him hassled as he was a one man army. He didn’t notice Minho till he walked right up to the front and slipped inside his stall.
“Hyung, I’m so glad you’re here!”
“Hey Lix, you look busy,” Minho states, observing from behind as he collects cash and gives out wrapped cookies and brownies, thanking every customer with a bright smile. A few students may have simpered over his boyish charms, but Felix was too busy to notice, failing to notice their obvious flirting. Minho has to hide a laugh as they walk away disappointed with cookies in their hands.
When the crowd dwindles a little, Minho could make out Seungmin’s voice on the speakers now, no doubt swapping with you after five consecutive readings. He finally gets a chance to strike up a conversation with his roommate.
“Business looks prosperous,”
Felix smirks back at him, pocketing the cash he had received before saying, “Yeah, the crowd's pretty good. Some people even came back for seconds, they love this stuff!”
“Of course they do, you’re good at it,” Minho shrugs off-handedly, but Felix could sense the genuine praise underneath.
“Hey hyung, can you do me a favour? I’ve got two cartons of this stuff in my car in the parking lot, can you bring me one? Can’t really leave the booth empty.”
Minho didn’t mind helping out, he anyway didn’t have much to do around here and he had only come because Felix had pestered him to get out of the house and stop sulking all weekend. Granted, the first thing he had heard was your voice reading out a confession like it was your own, he hadn't turned around and sprinted right away like he had thought he would have.
Felix hands him his car keys and off he goes to the parking lot, where there’s a relatively smaller number of people. It takes him a while to search for the car, all the while walking further away from the building, seungmin’s voice a faint noise in the back, and finally finds the familiar blue one parked right in the back.
Carefully taking out one of the boxes, he marvels at its weight and can only assume it’s loaded to the brim. If any of this manages to get saved, Minho has a feeling he knows what the 3 AM snack for the entire next month is going to be. Sometimes, he marvels at the younger boy and the amount of baking he can get done in a matter of a few hours.
As he’s walking back, he registers your voice which was on again on the speakers, growing louder the minute he got closer to the building. He tries his best to ignore the knot in his stomach but stops when he hears your next words.
“The next confession is to an ex, from… anonymous.”
There’s a pause on your end, but Minho is starting to anticipate this one. The word ex resounds loudly inside his head, his chest constricting when he hears the way you say it. It was as if you were taking this to heart when it wasn’t even your confession.
“Hi…I hope you’ve been doing well, I kind of miss you…maybe more than just “kind of”...
I honestly can’t believe I’m doing this right now, it seems crazy; I feel crazy doing this, but honestly? Screw it, I don’t think I can lie to myself anymore. I know I was trying to save face and keep my distance but a part of me was desperately trying to protect my feelings and yours.
I don’t think you’re here right now, I hope you’re not. Or maybe you are, in which case, good. But not really. This is hard…I don’t have this written out and I can’t do this extempore, but you’re not here, so it’s okay. Are you here though? It doesn’t matter…”
Minho is completely frozen to his spot. He was hoping for too much, but even with your face hidden, he could hear the panic in your voice. Why were you panicked?
“I know I acted like an ass, I know I messed up too but I realised that I couldn’t force you to feel the same way as I did. Maybe you needed more time, and perhaps I should have been willing to give you more of that.
I know we made mistakes – both of us – and I’m scared that this might be the end of everything, but I thought about it for so long and I want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being able to give you more time when you needed it, I should’ve never expected you to fall in love with me all at once; I forgot we all have different paces and different ways of loving.
You said you didn’t love me; maybe I’m being delusional and hopeful when I say this, but I think you did…love me. Maybe not all at once, but it was there – you were there – in bits and pieces; in the way you picked up blueberry muffins on Wednesdays because you knew I didn’t have time for breakfast, in the way you got annoyed at having to pick up coffee for me but you did it anyway, in the way you sat all night looking up my favourite shows so we could enjoy it together, in the way you added peas to my scrambled eggs because I liked it that way.
I noticed it all, but somehow I…I overlooked it. I took it for granted, getting mad at you because you didn’t or couldn’t say those three words back at me because all I wanted was for you to love me as much as I loved you…as much as I still love you. But you did,and you cared so much for me, and I failed to see it. And that makes me feel shitty, but I deserve it.
I want you to know that I still love you, I do. So stop giving me boxes of my favourite chocolates and paying for my coffee and let’s talk this out. I promise, I’ll listen better this time, and I’ll wait for as long as it takes for you to reach out. I promise I won’t rush you, and if you still never feel the same as I do, I promise I’ll not hold you accountable for it.
So Lee Minho, if you’re out there and listening to this…I miss you, so much. And I love you, and won’t ever stop loving you. But let’s talk this out, as adults, and whatever happens, I’ll accept it with grace. I owe you that, so, yeah…”
There’s a pause not many notice due to the chaos, but for those who were listening, they pick up on the abrupt music that starts playing. Minho is one of them, but he doesn’t register the slip up because he can’t, in all honesty, think of anything right now.
He was left reeling in his spot, unable to move his feet from where they were planted on the ground. Lee Minho, that was his name – you said his name. This was your confession. Fuck.
It was hard to ignore the stare at your back and the bated breath with which everybody had been listening to your ramble, but it’s even harder to ignore the rapid beating of your chest, the only sound now drumming in your ears obnoxiously.
Before you know it, your feet are moving of their own accord. You’re pushing yourself up from the chair, ignoring the cramp that had settled after sitting for more than an hour in the same place and in a split second you’re out the door and running nowhere in particular. Nobody stops you, and even if they tried, they doubted they would be able to.
It almost looked like Felix had been expecting you. He definitely looked surprised when you panted to a stop in front of him, ignoring the weird stares you received, only two syllables coming out of your mouth, “Where’s Minho?”
“He’s in the parking lot.”
That’s it. That’s all you need before you’re running again, slithering through the crowd and wheezing when you finally reach the parking lot. He was here. Minho was here, in the parking lot, on campus and he probably heard your confession. He hates you now, he definitely hates you and the sudden realisation that he heard your confession almost makes you want to tear the world apart in embarrassment. But you couldn’t turn back now.
You were too far down this hole to climb back up any time soon and you were going to see the end of it.
fifteen.
When you had imagined this happening, you had been less daunted by the prospect. Additionally, you also had the safety of these thoughts being in your head and never in real life.
In short, you felt like shitting your pants.
Minho was not saying anything. In fact, after pulling you into one of the lecture halls inside the building the best he could with a heavy box of cookies he was least worried about for now, he hadn’t done much except quietly lean back on the desk, waiting for you to speak while you sat in front of him on one of the benches. This was nerve wracking, the unpredictability of the situation and the long foreboding silence that you had both been sitting in. you had both been riveted by a small patch of dust, swirling around in a small typhoon in a sunny corner of the room, watching the silent chaos quietly.
The room feels too big without the presence of students filling it, you’ve never noticed it before, with its large windows and the sun streaming in like golden ribbons, exactly how much silence it can hold within its four walls.
You’re the first to break the silence.
“About earlier, I don’t know why I did that. I thought you weren’t going to be there, I mean not that it’s bad you heard but–”
“Did you mean it?” Minho cuts you off, but he sounds wary, cautious of where he treads because the trepidation that comes along with a feeling of things coming to an end blankets the two of you heavily.
“Which part?” your voice is reduced to a whisper, your thoughts too loud and overpowering.
“All of it…do you love me?”
This was easier done on the speaker and spoken into a mic. Now you’re too aware of Minho’s gaze staring you down and the sound of his shifting feet on the ground; your head is held low where your own eyes fixate on the ground till you see the tip of his shoes come into view and the telltale presence of a person close to you.
“My inadequacy to love you was never your fault (y/n), I swear I have loved you for ages but I didn’t want to lose you with my incapability of being sufficient.” Minho had to bare his all for this, in a mutual attempt to right the wrong and speak the unspoken, even if it made him want to dig a hole and bury himself under for eternity.
“I know Minho, I know. I’m sorry for not being able to recognise that sooner.”
“But I want to be with you, and for that I was most certain I didn’t want to lie about anything.”
“So you said you never loved me?”
“I never meant that. You know I’m an idiot, you know I suck with words and I would rather you hated me for it than have to speak out my feelings. All of those cruel things I said, all that shouting, every waking moment I wish I could take it all back. But I’m such a fool for you (y/n), I hate what you do to me.”
“You were never insufficient, and you certainly weren’t in the wrong to tell me the truth. I was just too hurt and blinded by the people around me bent on making me believe that you didn’t love me enough…when you said it out loud, I lost it.”
“I should have never made you feel like you were any less loved than others.”
“It was never your fault, it was simply a question of time.”
“I’m such an idiot…”
It came without a preamble and so suddenly, it made you want to joke about it. Minho was anything but an idiot, only too aware of his feelings and deeply connected to them that he had felt guilty for lying about it to you.
“I know you’re an idiot Minho,” a light laughter leaves your lips, your chest gradually starting to feel lighter the more Minho talked, ignoring the fluttering in your heart.
“Is my misery funny to you?”
“No, but your blabbering is,”
“Don’t laugh, please. I feel like a fool and you’re the one who just poured their heart out in front of hundreds of people.”
“Yes, I suppose idiocy seeps into you when one’s around you for too long.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
“So, is this it?”
“It is if you want it to be.”
“I just thought this would be a lot more serious. And you might cry, not that I want you to cry but I thought I would make you cry again…not that I wanted to.”
“We’ve both bared too much already Min,” Minho feels like the sun itself had bloomed inside him, the warmth of his name tumbling through your lips like sweetened honey spread through him like wildfire, “I wouldn’t have wanted this to go any other way.”
And it’s true. When you walked into this classroom, you were ready to accept whatever it was that was to befall without any complaints. Regrets, perhaps, but if your heart was to be broken when you left this room, you were prepared for it. It made this talk so much easier when it didn’t end up with a promise of tears.
You came here with an intent and it was to do your best so you didn’t lose someone you loved dearly, no matter the price.
A long silence ensues. You can hear the tunes of a soft song floating through the speakers outside, almost as if Chan had planned it for the right moment.
Minho leans down and holds your face in his hands, closing the gap between you gently before kissing you. God, you had missed this. You had forgotten how gentle Minho could be when it came to you, how he kissed you softly but firmly, slowly prying your lips open till you were completely drowning in him.
Bringing your hands up, you gently pry yourself apart from him, feeling yourself melt when you notice the panic in his eyes. The parasite inside him starts wiggling again, had you not wanted this?
“It’s okay, I just want you to know that you don’t have to rush this. I’ll be here for you always, I promise.”
Minho feels the parasite inside him slowly withering with every word you speak and every soft stroke of your thumb across his cheek.
“I already know I love you.”
“So you won’t run away?”
“I promise I won’t. And I’ll make it up to you for eternity.”
“That’s cheesy,” your heart does miss a beat.
“I know. I’m going to regret this later.”
“Must be all the love in the air.”
“Must be…”
A cheesy verse about a boy serenading the love of his life breaks out in a tender melody, but you’re both kissing again, never rushing into the feeling of it, just quietly drowning in each other.
“You know, an eternity is a long time,” you say, breaking apart for air again and pressing one long kiss on his lips, “are you sure you’re up for it?”
“I don’t think it would be that bad.”
For the first time in months, Minho finally feels himself liberated from that tight knot in his chest and the parasite that once resided there, nowhere in sight. His insides glow warm under your touch and his overwired mind is finally calm and bereft of muddled thoughts.
The shadows shift and the dust in the corner of the room finally dies down, settling on the ground gently.
The immense longing of your hearts finally reach out for each other, intertwining each other in a warm hug that comforts the turbulent melancholy within and the loneliness starts to fade away.
An eternity wouldn’t be that bad after all.
#stray kids imagines#lee know imagines#stray kids minho imagines#stray kids lee know imagines#lee minho imagines#stray kids angst#aks angst#stray kids x you#skz x you#lee know x you
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I love the idea of jason being like super weird when he gets into a relationship with y/n
Cuz bro was on the streets then with bruce (aka loner dad) and then the main teen years where we learn about relationships and stuff he was being tortured abd trained to be an assassin.
So when he gets into a relationship, he tries to do something or act a certain boyfriend-y way for you. And he has only 4 options -
1. Batman and catwoman the super loner who doesn't say anything and the girl just keeps making sexual innuendos and steals stuff...which obviously doesn't work out cuz u(prolly) don't steal and he likes to talk to you
2. Bruce wayne the playboy- now imagine jasom trying to be smooth at making sexual innuendos ..he can't. At least not in the start and he lacks the subtlety and honestly he is too infatuated he fucks it up real often. " want some of my ice cream" " well sweetheart , I know some ice you can cream" in a weird rich voice and you're just standing there like wtf . Don't get me wrong he can be super vulgar and upfront but he gets all in his head and bruce wayne slips out.
3. NIGHTWING- man that's like the only person around him who has relationships. But noghtwing is like sunshine and jason really is not. So while nightwing aka Mr pitch perfect serenading his girl works and Mr acrobat from circus pulling his girl into a full on waltz works...it rlly doesn't for jason.
4. Books - bro reads Jane austen, bro likes the classics and therefore he will use those books to find gestures for you. Now once he got u a horse cause you were bored. And while that worked for the fictional Victorian housewife...not so much for a busy person in Gotham.
And he gets so confused with such normal things. "Could you Get me some milk" suddenly your entire kitchen is filled with all the different brands and types of milk a person can buy- 2 of each so u don't run out of it cuz Mr lover had no idea what "some" means.
This is just when he overthinks or gets jealous or insecure . Otherwise he is collected and his own unique way of showing love. But he just messes up sometimes and it's the cutest thing everrr.
#batboys#batboys fluff#batboys x reader#batfam x reader#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#jason todd drabble#jason todd angst#jason todd x y/n#jason todd romance#jason tddd#jason todd fic#jason todd#red hood#red hood x you#red hood x y/n#ak!jason x reader#ak!jason x y/n#ak!jason todd#jason todd fluff
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pygmalion and galatea ༊*·˚
༘♡ do you have sinful thoughts sometimes?
in which regulus is a painter and you are his muse
*18+, minors DNI, sexual themes & references, romantic dynamic, first time, consent
Your eyes were fixed on him and couldn't look away.
Regulus had the face of Apollo. Sharp yet smooth features with soft curves, plump reddish lips, and a slim straight nose with a little bump on it. His seemingly tired eyes were like the sky on a winter's day, rounder on the outside, corners pointing downwards.
Everything on him was so balanced and symmetric, even the curls that were spread messily around him. Watching the hair fall on top of his forehead, covering his eyes, made you want to just extend your hand to brush it off, and lovingly pull it behind his ear.
He glanced up at you for a few moments at the feeling of your persistent stare, causing your eyes to move to the window behind him immediately. You gulped embarrassed that for only a second or two, he caught you darting him. You heard a smile forming on his face as he turned back to his canvas.
You had been working with Regulus for quite a while. He was laconic, only saying what was necessary to be said, nothing more, nothing less. However, your curiosity had forced you to spend hours and hours just examining him. You had learned every move of his by heart.
When he didn't like something he curled up his nose in discomfort. When he didn't like your pose or wanted you to fix your posture, he was biting his lips while quickly exchanging glances between you and the canvas. When he was running his hands through his hair, you knew you were done for the day. He didn't need to say a word and you understood immediately what he meant.
His gaze moved back to you and his eyes stayed there for longer than you expected. Without knowing he was still looking at you, you dared to glance at him. He smiled watching you hold your breath and lightly shook his head at the irony of your timidness.
The dark candlelit room was exhaling an erotic air. The trembling orange glow was softly hugging the curves of your body, as you were laid naked on a couch only a few meters away from him; your head balanced on your left hand that was on top of your right one, both placed on the arm of the couch, as your body was spread sideways; your right thigh on top of your left that was lightly extended to the front, creating shadows that were hiding your secret spots.
You had posed for many artists in the past but Regulus was the only one able to bring you self-consciousness. He made you feel vulnerable in front of him and incredibly nervous. Little did you know to Regulus you were the most beautiful muse that existed. He was in love with you just like Pygmalion was in love with Galatea.
Because of you, he was living in a constant contradiction. He wanted to look at you all day every day, but at the same time, he couldn't wait for you to leave so he could relax himself at the thought of your free body laying on his couch.
The secret to not revealing his feelings for you was to not speak and not look at you. But that day maybe it was the lust in the atmosphere, maybe it was your pose, maybe it was your siren stare, but he felt extremely bold and decided to play along.
You watched his Adam's apple rising and falling as he maneuvered his hips to the seat. You gulped and your lips separated at the view of his pants getting tighter. Regulus' grip on his pencil got harder, so tight almost able to break it in half. His eyes were sealed shut. Looking at him like that you couldn't help but press your legs together. You needed him right at that moment.
As if Regulus heard your prayers, he looked at you, eyes dark by shadows, and let the pencil fall to the ground. You repositioned yourself, as you turned your head to the large windows on the side. He was the one with the huge bulge between his legs but somehow you ended up feeling completely ashamed because you just happened to look at him.
You heard the sound of the chair against the wooden floor and then slow steps towards you. You gulped, as you turned around only to see Regulus standing right in front of you, crouched to meet your height.
Your lips separated releasing hot breaths. Heartbeat became unsteady when his dirty palm touched your cheek, leaving red stains of paint behind it. He held you, his thumb trailing all the way up until it reached your ear, as his other fingers hugged the side of your neck.
His head leaned close and eyes moved from your sparkling stare to your soft lips. With forehead almost touching forehead and tasting the other's breath, you tented your neck closing the gap between you. Your hand moved to his wrist, fingers wrapped kindly around his pulse.
Regulus tied both hands on the back of your neck lightly standing up and sitting on the couch beside you, then leaning his body against yours.
His lips were silky and felt like you were touching clouds. You let his hand free run down the line between your chest and find his way to the curve of your waist, coloring you as he swam down your body.
You gasped hard at his arm that traveled back on your breast, your nipple captive of his pale fingers. Regulus' breath was coming out in flustered pants. His lips moved to your jaw, kissing tenderly your neck and then down your collarbones, ending on your chest. You could feel his sweaty hair caressing your skin. You moaned pulling his curls behind, holding them out of his face, while he was licking, lightly sucking your nipples.
He smiled as he kissed your belly and you breathed out shakily watching the way his grey eyes were fixed on you. He moved lower and lower until he ran his tongue on your pubic hair, his hands rubbing both sides of your outer thighs and then your buttocks.
You chuckled at him, your little laugh breaking the deadly silence that dominated the room. He couldn't help but smile again, his eyes meeting yours, as his fingers moved into your inside thighs and then slowly on your knees.
He moved one of your legs and without much thinking, he dived in between them. He looked up at you as he sucked your folds and buried his tongue inside. Your hands pulled his hair and pressed him down on you, not being able to keep up with his teasing.
You were already so wet, Regulus must have realized himself, that's why he was looking at you. Your head fell back on the arm of the couch as you moaned. Every time he got deeper and deeper, faster and faster, sucking your folds hard as if trying to drain them. He made you completely soaked and you were ready to release with trembling legs that he held both sides steady while his head was deep finding its way inside you.
Feeling that you were ready to cum, Regulus pulled back and sucked your folds. His head came out of your thighs to take a breath and a cry escaped your lips, holding tightly his wrist to the couch. You gave in to your orgasm.
He leaned down and with a mischievous smile, his tongue lashed at everything it could get while sucking on you at the same time. He had you in his mouth, dripping from his lips.
Regulus stood up and pecked your lips once. Your eyes followed him, your whole body panting, looking at him carelessly unbuttoning his white shirt and tossing it to the floor next to you. You leaned down on the couch to both your elbows gazing at him grinning and taking down his black pants, followed by his stained trunks.
Your head slightly tilted to the side, in your face marked a dreamy look. His body was lean with taut muscles and an erection that made you wonder how could he fit inside you without tearing you apart.
He carefully fell on top of you, on that old worn-out couch. His chest was pressed on top of yours and you could feel his bulge between your legs. He groaned, locking you between his arms, his cock trying to find its way inside you. Your hands took his wet length squeezing it gently before placing it on your opening.
Only the tip of his cock made your whole body shake. You let your head fall back as Regulus pressed down on you, his lips releasing hot breaths on your ear. He kissed you sweetly.
Regulus hovered over you again your faces only centimeters apart, lips almost touching. Both of your hands cupped his face for just a few seconds so you could see him clearly. He was like a wild animal. That blissed-out expression, that tilt of the head, the movement of the Adam's apple struggling to swallow.
Your skins brushed savagely, yet with a strange tenderness against each other. Every move was so barbaric but kind at the same time. You could breathe the other in, stained moans eliciting from both of you.
The couch rattled beneath you as Regulus' pelvis smushed inside you, animalistic screams of delight leaving both your mouths.
« Oh, fuck! », Regulus gasped. « I feel like fucking Pygmalion. » His words made you smile.
« Does that make me Galatea? », you asked cheekily. Regulus grinned while his whole body was panting.
Shadows casted by the flinching light of the candles towered over you at the walls making you look five times bigger than you actually were, imitating your every move like mirrors.
« Regulus! », you breathed out as he jerked against you again causing both of you to release at the same time. Regulus tiredly fell on top of you, hugging you tight. His eyes moved up to you and smiled watching your beautiful almost painful grimace.
Hands cupped your flushed panting face, holding it tightly with his shaky grip, and his thumbs wiped away your tears. He pressed his forehead against yours, your sweat mixing up, as he looked into your eyes and then smashed a kiss on your lips.
The summer breeze flew inside dragging the curtains with it and burning off the candles. You looked at him laying on top of you, the moonglow caressing his pale skin, and you thought feeling his heart pounding against your belly, that this was your person and you wanted to stay there, glued to him forever.
#hamlets-ak#regulus black#r.a.b#regulus arcturus black#marauders era#regulus x y/n#regulus black fanfiction#regulus black imagine#regulus x reader#regulus fanfiction#regulus angst#regulus smut#regulus black smut#timothée chalamet#timothee chalamet#timothee chalamet fanfiction#timothée chalamet imagine#timothee x reader#timothée chalamet x reader#timothee fanfic#timothée chalamet smut#smut
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Okay, so angsty AK! Jason X reader idea…
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Jason is waiting in his cell, all beaten up, bloody and in agony…
Suddenly, Joker bursts in and tosses a girl to the ground near his feet…
Not just any girl… but Jason’s crush from school… Y/N L/N…
Joker then goes into detail, saying after he disappeared from classes, she organized a search party for him with many fellow students. But she got too close to the truth…
Thus, Joker brought her there…
Cue Jason becoming protective of her and Joker figuring how to take advantage of this new ‘soft spot’…
Cut to moments later, when Joker finishes his daily session, Jason and Y/N are just talking… wondering in fear, what is gonna happen to them next…
(Maybe, a little ending with Arkham Knight! Jason and Y/N being married and have a kid on the way, just to add a crumb of fluff to the angst)
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Edit:
Here are some tags: @fcthots @igotanidea @thesandsofelsweyr @littlebatsimagines @slut4thebroken @jsontoddluvr
#jason todd#jason peter todd#arkham knight#arkhamverse#red hood#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#arkham knight x reader#red hood x reader#dc comics#batman#dc universe#angst#jason todd deserves better#ak jason#ak jason deserves better#arkham knight jason todd#Robin!jason being protective of crush/significant other#screw you joker#f you joker#y/n organized a school search party for jason#ended up kidnapped instead
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So long, Marianne I
Summary: Reader is a spy working undercover in Gotham when she meets Jason Todd, who despite her better judgement she forms a very close friendship with. This story follows their escape from Arkham asylum, their fall out and the times they run into each other as they get older.
Relationship: AK!Jason x Meta!Fem!Reader
Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence (I'm serious, tho- in canon it's also pretty violent), angst, hurt/no comfort (for now), this series is just my excuse to write angst lol.
A/N: *CIPA means Congenital insensitivity to pain and anhydrosis aka people who are unable to feel pain. see the end for more notes :)
Word Count: 4,2K
Read on AO3
Part 2- Masterlist
He repeats his question one more time before kicking your stomach again, "Who are you?". He's been asking the same thing for the past... month? Time gets blurry when you're kidnapped. Fuck, undercover work sucked no matter who you did it for. Whether it was your actual boss or the big bad bat himself, they should all make it up for making you endure this--make it up by dying, you thought. God, whose stupid idea was it again? Letting yourself be kidnapped by the Joker so they could track his lair and see if he had any connections to your current case, ah yes... your boss. Not even Batman would ask you to do that, at least the man had some moral code he hung onto, maybe a little too tight. You've earned an early retirement after this assignment, almost two years living in Gotham, out of everywhere. But what neither you or your boss expected was that he'd know your "secret identity" was fake, that he would torture and kill the agents who worked with you and pretended to be your family--or that they'd sell you out. You whisper, they were not even words just an unintelligible sound. He lowers down, putting his ear close to your mouth to be able to listen better and asks you to repeat yourself. You bite him, as hard as you can and draw blood, lots of it which you spit out with a smirk.
"Fuck you" You taunt and he just laughs, holding his wounded ear. The laughing is excessive, it reverberates around the entire room and you brace for the next impact. But it never comes.
"I think it's time you met a friend we have in common" His smile makes dread set in on you, who? By his standards it could be anyone, from someone you actually knew to someone you've never met but was there to pick up on his dirty work as he went to do other things. He pushes you with his feet until you lay on your stomach and begins to cover your hands, you count the layers. First some kind of cloth, then plastic wrap, then aluminum foil, then a bag to hold it all together. Right, you let everyone believe your healing abilities could only work with your hands.
He drags you up, grabbing one of your arms as he walked you to a different room. The side of his head still bled, and you watched the blood fall down and how it got no reaction from him. He must be used to pain or there must be something wrong with his pain nerves. Maybe not enough to be CIPA* because you have seen him wince and experience pain before. Your feet fail you, you can barely take steps due to how weak you are. Every bite of food you've been forced to take ended up being spat or thrown up moments later. You can feel how chapped your lips are, how tangled your hair is, how deep the bags under your eyes must be, the way your arms hurt from being tied behind your back for too long, how much you must look like shit. He opens a door to a mostly dark room, you can only make out a figure sitting on a chair under the singular light in the entire room. He--yeah, it's a guy definitely, you think--he's got his head low, his posture isn't close to being okay and upon further inspection you realize he's tied to the chair. He's pushing to walk in his direction, and you recognize that hair, even though less dirty, and that side profile way less hurt. You knew that person, you knew him maybe a little too much for your mission.
Jason Todd was once your friend, possibly the only friend your age you've ever had. You met him when he was Robin, being instructed that working with Batman may end up being beneficial at the end of the line you were told not to antagonize him. Even helped him every once in a while to get at least his respect. The first time you ever talked to Jason-- or rather Robin at the time, was when he sprained an ankle one night. You were there, trying to gain info on an illegal arms shipment that was arriving that night "We just have to know who bought it" they told you. You weren't there to stop them, you barely were allowed to actually stop bad things from happening and sometimes you envied that in them. They were their own person, they could have lives, make their own decisions, have agency of their own. Instead you, poor you, you had nothing but your work, no family you knew of, no goals of your own, nowhere to go if you wanted to quit. You healed him, at least that you could do. Maybe word would get out of a new vigilante with "unspecified healing abilities", they didn't have to know you actually manipulated time and just turned time back to a moment they weren't hurt. And from that moment on, unknown to you, he had a crush on you.
He started following you around. It's not stalking he'd justify it, he was just investigating. Making sure whose side you were on because after all you were on the harbor the day he stopped some local gangs from getting their hands on bigger guns. But he found no more than your cover story, neither he or Batman could leave a secret identity be secret. He believed your cover story, no one had any reason to question it. You were just Marianne, a simple girl. A simple girl with superpowers who healed his ankle. Later, when you became closer, sitting next to each other on the rooftop of a building looking down on the city lights, and the traffic that still moved late at night, you explained to him that your powers came from a freak accident in a lab when you were a kid. That much was true, most of the things you told him were true. At the time you felt he was someone who understood you, and he felt the same. And that's how the both of you started developing feelings for each other. It was more than just a crush and the need to have the other closer kept getting stronger. You kept reminding yourself that you couldn't, that you were being so unfair to him, keeping him in the dark about who you really were, if he knew the truth he would never have trusted you. So when you were told he died, how Batman was so sure of it, you regretted everything. You were so decided on telling him the night he disappeared, why didn't you do it before? You've been living with that ever since, the regret, the guilt. And it only got worse when you found out he was dead, knowing he died not knowing your real name, he died believing your lies.
"No," you try to stop, not to get closer to his corpse. "what kind of trick is this?"
"Ah, come on- he's still your friend, isn't he?" You struggle, not letting him move you and putting your entire body weight into it, every strain of energy you had in trying to stop it. How sick is he? He kept his body all this time. Tears fell on your face just thinking about it. How much he suffered, how violent his last moments were, how he didn't get justice or a proper burial.
"You can't even respect the dead," You cry "I'm gonna rip your heart out of your chest with my bare hands, do you hear me? I'll make your death so violent even Batman will feel sick"
Your threats started falling out of your mouth faster than the logic in your brain could work, you shouldn't be saying those things. You couldn't be making empty promises like that, you knew you couldn't kill him. You would never be allowed to do it. He laughed, and laughed and pushed you to fall on your back right at the feet of your dead friend. You looked up, just a peak to see his face one last time but he didn't look decomposed, in fact he even had fresh blood on his face. You also saw his chest moving up and down very slowly, was he sleeping?
"Ah, how sweet of you" The man awes, pretending to be flustered by her death threats "but I didn't kill him"
He steps closer and slaps Jason's face, yelling "Wakey, wakey! You have a visit!"
You watch in shock at how he his eyes open so fast, how his head shoot up and the fear in his expression starts to settle in. He wore an orange jumpsuit, as if he was just an inmate more, his cheeks were stained with tears, there was dry blood on one of his nostrils and his lower lip had a cut. Not to mention the "J" scar on his face too.
"What did you do to him?" You ask, sitting up from where you were.
"We were just having fun together, right Jason?" He grabs his head from behind him to make him shake it, saying yes. "and you and I can have just as much fun, soon as you start telling the truth"
"Ma-Marianne?" His voice is rough and low, it was the first time you heard him scared.
"Yes," You crawl closer to him, and look up at him before resting your forehead in one of his legs to hide your face as you started to weep inconsolably "I'm so sorry, they said you were dead, that-"
There is a deadly silence filling the room , where you can only hear your ugly sobs. Jason doesn't respond and you didn't expect him to, but at least they let you cry in peace. Taking in the fact that he'd been alive all this time, thinking about what he's been put through as you mourned like an idiot when you should've kept looking for him. How you abandoned him, how everyone abandoned him. And that made you feel even worse than your initial thought of Joker not letting him rest after he died, because in that case there was nothing you could've done but now... You felt his leg move lightly and you looked up, maybe you were making him uncomfortable and this was his way of saying it. He mouthed a little "I love you" when he knew your captor wouldn't see it. Just then as you gave him a small nod and mouthed "I love you too" you saw he was crying too. Soon his tears fell on you, and he moved his shoulder and turned his head to wipe them off as he sniffed.
"Aww, isn't it romantic, Mr J?" Harley's voice sounds from behind you but you couldn't bring yourself to look away from him. You were getting out there tonight, fuck your cover, fuck your job, he was the only thing that mattered right now.
"Young love," He sighs, dreamy, as if he knew what he was talking about. Like he knew what love felt like at all in any way, shape or form. "We'll have a little menage a trois, It'll be fun dont cha' think?"
And soon enough you felt Harley's arms holding you down as he put a rag over your face and proceeded to throw water. Jason screamed, asking them to stop, that you had nothing to do with them. You coughed when they stopped, at least maybe your face was clean and free of the blood you bit from him earlier. You could handle getting waterboarded, you've been trained to endure all sorts of torture methods. What you couldn't handle was hearing and seeing him like that.
"Now, your little girlfriend hasn't been entirely honest with you"
"I don't know what you're talking about, I've already told you who I am" You insist, this time actually desperate.
"Ah- and who are these two then? Liars?" He shows him, not you, a picture of your fake parents dead. Then he shows it to you, of course Jason thought they were your parents, you gave him no reason to believe otherwise. "Cause you see, I thought you were just another annoying kid, getting in the way of my game with the bat- but you're much more than, you're too good"
Silence, you were trained better than this. They put the cloth on your face again, trying once more to get the truth out of you.
"Hey, maybe he knows" He switches up quickly, and takes a piece of broken wood to hold it over Jason "Come on tell me, who's her? And why is your old man protecting her?"
"Her name's Marianne, and he's protecting her because she's my friend"
"Ah-" He imitates a buzzer noise, like he was in some game show "Wrong answer" He hit him.
"Stop it!" You yell, as he repeatedly hit him. You struggle trying to break free from the woman holding you. Until you managed to hit her with my head somehow. You feel the pain in your scalp from her teeth hitting you too.
"This is useless mista' J," Harley spoke, doubt filled her voice. Maybe you were telling the truth, maybe you were just who you said you were and he was too lost to see it. "the girl's been saying the same for months, and her parents weren't even that convincing when they said they weren't her folks"
You watch them leave, him being visibly angry at her for questioning him. Only for him to come back moments later, almost bolting to Jason saying "I have a show to run outside, could you two behave and wait for me here?" Like you had much of a choice, then he said "And hold this for me, boy" before stabbing him. Of course he couldn't stop by without leaving him with an open wound of any sort. You rushed to him before the door was even closed, you removed the knife from the wound with your mouth, your hands still tied behind your back and wrapped up in multiple different layers in a failed attempt to stop you from using your power. Your eyes lit up as you healed him, his pained grunts eventually coming to a stop.
"I bet I look like shit right now" You joke, resting your cheek on his thigh once more. T rying to hide the fact that, despite the situation you were in, you were still a bit embarrassed that he saw you like that.
"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my life" He confesses, not a single strain of joke or sarcasm in his statement and it makes you blush before you move to the back of his chair to untie him.
"You only say that because you want me to free you" You say before grabbing the rope with your teeth, taking longer to undo the knots than it would with your hands on your back and not being able to see what you were doing. If only they didn't think your powers worked from your hands.
"His ear, you did it?" He asked, getting a muffled sound of confirmation from you. "That's my girl"
The scoff in which he said it made you blush again, your cheeks were heating up tonight. He knew if anyone was ever getting him out it would be you, not Batman. His mentor probably started to look for a replacement as soon as he went off the grid. He knew you would never betray him, that's the only thing the Joker couldn't torture or manipulate out of him, the one thing he could hold on to. His kidnapper was wrong, he was never Batman's or his. He's always been yours, probably since you healed his ankle. The ropes around his arms loosen until he's free again, his muscles were sore but soon the adrenaline would kick in and rid him from all pain. He frees his legs in a hurry as you stand up in front of him, he stands up too again. The stretch felt good, moving on his own felt good, and seeing you again felt even better. You turned around, it was his turn to get rid of the ropes now. He grabbed the knife that you couldn't use and cut through your bindings. Still he couldn't help but think about the worried look on your face, what are you thinking about? How to get out? Him? Whatever it was, he took a moment and the second you turned to face him again he wrapped you in a hug. Feeling your warm body against him for the time in so long, you return the affection hugging him just as tightly. He feels relieved, finally a gentle hand lays on him, a hand that he knew could never hurt him.
"Jay, I-" You hesitate, hiding your face in his chest while trying to hide and get the courage to tell him at the same time "I have to tell you something"
"Can it wait until we get out?" You shake your head no, he had to know so you could break out from there. I mean, it was kinda hard to break out of Arkham without help.
"No, uhm, we need to call for help" You start "There's a chip on me, I need you to cut me and take it out"
"What? Help from who?"
"My agency" You admit in a whisper, and just as fast as you got him back you feel how you're loosing him a second time. He lets go of you, and you can feel the distance he's putting between you two more than any torture Joker put you through.
"Where is it?" He asks, his tone cold and detached. You try to hide how hurt you were, you should've expected it he had every reason to be mad.
"Here" You lift your shirt up and point to the place where the tracker was, on your lower stomach right above your hips, on your left side.
He nods, and you lay down on the floor so he can get to work. He touches you, only to get a feel of where it was and you try not to think that this will probably be the last time you feel him so close as you put your arm over your mouth to stop any noise that may come out of you. He cuts your skin, and you bite your arm and hope it's quick. With the end of the knife he swiftly pulls it out in between all the blood coming out of you. You tell him to step on it so it gets destroyed and sends the message, as you heal yourself. He wasn't even watching you, his eyes were fixed on the door processing yet another betrayal.
"Jay, I wanted to tell you-" You try to explain but he cut you off shooting a serious glare at you.
"I don't care," He was cold, his voice severe and it even scared you "get me the fuck out of here and we'll talk"
You nodded on the verge of tears, then deciding that holding on to the hope than when you two were somewhere safer he'd be open to have a conversation was your safer bet to maintain some sanity. Maybe then he'd listen to your apologies. At this point you weren't hoping for absolution but a truce would suffice. Why did you have to go and fuck it up? Why did you have to go and fall for him? You knew who you were, a spy trained for most of the life you remembered who worked undercover in Gotham, you knew you were not supposed to have any ties or emotional connections. You cursed at whoever gave you feelings and made you human, instead of whoever turned you into a machine.
"We should get moving, get to the extraction point"
He just nodded, it was short and formal, so unlike what you were used from him. He followed behind you as you carefully opened the door. There were no guards outside, so you moved. Soon an alarm started to blare through the rotten and worn down asylum wing, that's why the hallway was so empty. Two inmates run past both of you, pushing you to a wall in the process. You reach to grab Jason's wrist to make sure he's behind you but stop halfway through. Probably being touched by you was the last thing he wanted. So you just walk, decidedly pushing through this situation you were in. Armed with nothing but your fists you take out a man twice your size, you easily dodge his punches and swiftly move around him to hit him in key points that he leaves open. Jason watches, and realizes as you jump to the man's shoulders and snap his neck that you had been holding back all this time. He understands you have been capable of using lethal force but chose not to, though he doesn't know the reason for that. Was it because of Batman? Was it because you were ordered not to? He pushes down the thought, as he should be more focused on the guy he was fighting instead of you. You keep moving, going up to were a helicopter would be waiting for you. What you didn't expect was the Joker's backup plan, Death-stroke, pointing a gun right at your head. Shit, you didn't even tell him about your powers yet, he was going to be even more pissed if you didn't find another way out of this soon.
"Out of my way kid" He tells you "I'm only getting paid for not letting him leave alive, but I don't mind wasting a bullet"
"Oh, fuck off" you sigh tired, you just wanted to get out of there. You were exhausted, you wanted a shower and to sleep on a real bed and if it wasn't too much to ask maybe see the light of the sun. So you froze him, time stopped for the man in front of you. "move, it won't last long"
Jason wants to ask, he's itching to know. How did you do it? How did healing people translate into what you just did? He had so many questions for you, about you. Every time a new question came into his head he felt even more offended, he thought he knew you so well and turns out you'd made him out to be an idiot. He feels like an idiot and for that he's even angrier at you for lying, for keeping things from him when he had been so vulnerable to you. That you knew everything about him yet he knew barely anything about you and even what he knew he doubted it was even real at all. But out sheer stubbornness he wasn't going to ask, he'd rather take the curiosity to his grave.
The loud noise of a helicopter becomes more clear as you head up, and then you recognize the all black uniform and standard weapon of your agency. Confusion painted your face, why would they send backup instead of it just being an extraction team. Usually they didn't have a care in the word if you got out in time or not, even going as far as leaving you behind once. They weren't usually this helpful, or willing to use resources on a simple rescue mission. The help didn't last long since you heard the gun shot coming from where you came from. Shit, it wore off you better leave quickly. You tell him to run, to keep up the pace and he does, promising himself this was the last time he would trust you. It was all fine and well, you could see the escape route clearly you almost made it when you heard it. Jason held the bleeding wound from the bullet, stumbling until you helped him. You stole a gun from a passing agent, they wouldn't notice since it was just their back-up, and shot at the mercenary. Your aim was just a little off, since you were also holding a person with your other arm but you managed to hit his arm. The bullet just grazed him, your friend didn't have the same luck. You shot again, just to create some cover so you could move. It worked, you made it to the helicopter before he passed out from the blood loss. Sadly you couldn't heal him since the bullet was still there, so in tears as you took off you managed to stop his bleeding until you got help.
Of course your supervisor wasn't happy about you escaping earlier than expected or that you bought him along. But after some promises and insisting, they agreed not to let him die and took him to the closest headquarters. You knew the conditions they put on you were harsh but you thought nothing was worth more than his life, so you agreed. Even if it mean never seeing him again, why did it matter anyways? It's not like he wanted much to do with you after today.
A/N: Like I said on the notes on ao3, I'm sensitive and this is my first time posting what I write in a LONG time so have patience with me lol.
#bro I need to work on a better summary#w: jason#Ak!jason todd x reader#Jason todd x reader#reader insert#Ak!Jason todd x reader angst#jason todd angst#I'll add more tags later
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AK Jay lying prone on the bloodstained floor of his makeshift cell beneath Arkham, his abused shoulders screaming with pain, unable to move his arms after they were forced out of their sockets from dangling by his weak wrists for hours. He can barely move his legs, but chooses not to since even the smallest of movements sends agony flooding through his battered body from his broken right ankle and dislocated left kneecap. All he can do is weep into the floorboards while he prays (futilely) that he’ll pass out sometime soon.
Out of the corner of his blackened eye he catches the hint of movement. His weeping dissolves into sniffles as a tiny mouse creeps up to him. He has seen this mouse before, but it had always skittered away from him, even when he had offered it a few crumbs of moldy bread that he had hidden for it beneath one of the photos of Batman and Robin that littered the floor.
His entire being is still overwhelmed with immense pain, but he takes a tiny bit of comfort in the appearance of his now emboldened friend.
Days turn to weeks turn to months of nonstop suffering, but his only friend in the world continues to visit him. It's the only thing he has to look forward to in this hell.
#ramsay bolton voice:#“if you think this has a happy ending you haven’t been paying attention” 😈#there's a reason why jay smashes the rat with his boot in ak genesis 5#but i'll save that for another post 😎#sands writes#my headcanons#my arkhamverse#jason todd#robin#arkham knight#arkham asylum#arkhamverse#angst#jason todd angst#whump#jason todd whump#dcu
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chapter 1 of my fic;
I’m sorry I’m the one you love
i went w this title cus it fits how i perceive AK jason feels towards being loved (he feels unworthy of it ur honor)
keep in mind this fic is.. gonna be both fluff filled AND angst filled (did you think i’d ever let you and jason always be happy? lmao no. ur getting the same treatment my ocs do)
In the eyes of the world, you didn’t matter. You were nothing more than a pest, a filthy rat scurrying around Gotham City. Even if you haven’t lived here your whole life, you still became a part of it’s problem. Not like you had any choice, considering you were but a child. Long since abandoned by your parents in a city you’ve since skipped and left, you find surviving in Gotham just as hard. But it’s tolerable. You know how to defend yourself, with bruises and healing knuckles to match. Gotham wasn’t an easy place to survive, much less for someone who barely knew how the city worked. All you knew is that danger was constantly lurking, in every corner and every street. You had no wariness of who the streets belonged to, of the rules etched into its architecture. All you knew of was survival.
Scavenging whenever you could, stashing the little food you could. Of course, because of you being essentially new to Gotham you weren’t aware of the rules. Or the territories and who owned what. All you knew was to run and fight to survive. Perhaps thats why he took a pittance to you. Seeing you do your hardest to survive, like him. He’s a scrawny kid, like you are. You’re both doing what you need to, in order to survive. The first time he’d seen you scrambling to steal food in the section of Crime Alley that he’d gotten in exchange for selling out his parents, Jason felt like you and him would get along. Defending this strip of land was lonely, granted him few allies considering no one wanted to even attempt to challenge him.
The first time you two talk, you worry he’ll attempt to take your hard-earned spoils like anyone else had. You’d clutched them closer to yourself, almost glaring and poised to strike like a snarling dog. The only difference being the lack of bared teeth. At the time, you were more like a wounded, cornered animal. You’d been injured because of a previous fight, pain flaring in what felt like all over whenever you attempted to move. So moving around was futile, the headache that accompanied it being the source of most of your discomfort.
It was cold, as cold as the alley you called home was dirty. It smelled and was located right outside some bar that smelled absolutely horrid. A putrid stench that lingered and seeped into the clothes of whoever hung around it. The stench clung to both you and him, mixing with the smell of car exhaust, trash, gasoline, and the other smells that clung to Gotham about as well as it’s crime rate.
But that’s fine. Jason’s been sitting still, inching closer to you every few hours. You’ve been defensive, and Jason doesn’t quite get why he is bothering at all to get you to trust him.
The first week he meets you it’s all he seems to do. When he’s finding himself food he can’t help but let his thoughts drift back to you, the only other scrappy kid that has bothered to stay around in what is essentially his turf for longer than usual. Jason’s come to learn most of what makes you tick, for the most part. Like how you refuse to move when he’s present or even looking at you, how you refuse to eat when he’s present. Jason doesn’t even get why he still bothers with you.
And you?
You don’t get it either. You don’t get why this kid just keeps coming back. You don’t bother talking back to him, just sitting there and nursing what hurts. The alley smells enough to make your head pound and hiding behind the dumpster when more rowdy drunken folk stumble outside for a variety of things. But you make it work, you suppose. And you don’t mind how the free food that comes with his company. You don’t get him sometimes, though. Don’t get his tenacity. Why he still bothers.
But maybe it’s because you also don’t understand looking forward to his short, fleeting visits. But perhaps it’s the idea that the moment your stupidly painful bruises and whatever else is wrong are healed and you can move, that he’d up and disappear. The silence between you both is as equally unsettling as it is comforting. The faint chatter of drunken patrons from the bar you rest near is just loud enough to have the same faint buzz of insects. And the air is warm and putrid, filled with the hideously disgusting odors that every city such as Gotham brings. Just any other sensible Gotham kid would give you a wide berth, but yet here he is.
Here this random scrawny street kid is, insistent on getting you to trust him. He used to talk to you, or try to. His words were always met with silence on your end. But perhaps he only continues to try after the first time he heard what sounded like a faint breathy laugh underneath that sigh you’d made to cover it up. You can’t even remember what he’d said that had been funny, but he does. It was a stupid joke, something about how this disgusting alley was at least a little warmer and better than the colder, draftier parts of the city and that the warmth was the only thing that made it worth staying in. Truth be told you’d rather be anywhere but here, even back with your parents even if they just might barely give a damn. But it was warm and never smelled. Maybe that’s why you laughed, because there was places better than this shit-hole of a city you now called home.
Yeah, maybe that was it. Maybe that’s why he sticks around, you think. Jason thinks that’s why, too.
#dc universe#jason todd#may be non canon compliant#ak!jason todd x reader#ak!jason x reader#ak jason#arkham knight jason#arkhamverse#dc fanfic#arkhamverse fanfic#this is gonna be slowburn#prepare for shenanigans bc these guys r gonna ve#SO OBLIVIOUS#like so oblivious you and alfred will be standing there#going oh my god PLEASE#JUST CONFESS ALREADY#and its gonna be glorious#with angst!#intrique's dc things
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ahhh I love your work!
I do love Tank x Price….but ugh the angst of her and Ghost!
Been listening to your playlist an definitely some Ghost songs on there so would love to suggest one…
I love you - Fontaines DC
it’s so them! “You only open the window never opened up the door and I love you I love you told you I do”
if this isn’t them I don’t know what is ❤️
keep up the amazing work 🌸
Oh wow…thank you so much!
This just makes me think of him watching her from a distance, he’s told her he loves her a million times in his head but never uttered the words out loud 🖤
Instantly added to the playlist ✨
#price x tank#call of duty#cod ghost#cod mw#ghost cod#ghost modern warfare#ghost call of duty#ghost playlist#cod oc playlist#cod oc tank#cod playlist#call of duty modern warfare#cod mw2#cod angst#anon aks#cod original character#cod oc#tank x ghost#simon ghost riley#ghost mw3
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kinktober?? srry i only know angstober ‼️🔥
#broken
#seaadc#☆ sea talks!#requests open#genshin impact angst#angst#genshin angst#jjk angst#hsr angst#ANGST TOP TIER🤘🏻🤘🏻#tatlong bilyon ikaw ang aking gusto💥#im sad so y’all deserve to be sad 2
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Ok…. What if when Sirius got to James and Lily’s home on Halloween James wasn’t actually dead yet… instead dying.
Sirius begging James to hold on as he chokes on blood, practically completely unaware of Sirius’ presence in the room due to be too far gone from blood loss.
Don’t imagine James dying in Sirius’ lap as Sirius screams. Don’t imagine Sirius watching the light leaving James’ eyes, or him feeling James’ last ragged breath, or realising the blood flow has stopped.
Don’t.
#marauders are all about angst…. right?#this would genuinely make it so much worse#but it would be plain cruel of voldermort/Peter to not ak him before they left#to let him lay there and bleed out#ouch….#james potter#regulus black#jegulus#starchaser#sunseeker#sirius black#maurder era#jsp headcannon#jsp- marauder era#platonic prongsfoot#jsp- platonic prongsfoot#marauders fandom#marauders era#sirius black angst#james potter angst#jsp fic ideas#halloween 1981#jsp- halloween 1981
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I have a request🙈 I’m feelings angsty today so im thinking about something like Loki forgetting an important date night and went out with the avengers after a mission completely forgetting about their plans. meanwhile steve has had an eye on y/n the entire time she was in a relationship with Loki so when heatbroken y/n eventually breaks up with Loki after being neglected and forgotten for a while and Steve gets closer to her and takes her out on a date, Loki does everything to get her back!! ❤️
OK, angst train pulling into the station........🥺🥺
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Come Back
Pairing: Loki x f! Reader
Warnings: mild swearing, yelling, angst, hurt, slight mention of alcohol, neglected feelings, angst with happy ending
Summary: you and Loki had been dating for awhile, and when things were good they were great. But lately, loki seems distracted and you've had all you can take.
You finished setting the table, making sure everything was perfect for your date with Loki. You had spent most of the day in the kitchen, slaving over the stove to make sure everything was just right. Things had been a bit rocky between you two lately, between missions, and paperwork you hadn't been spending much time together, and when you did he seemed distant. After the last stark party you both attended ended in a yelling match about him ignoring you the whole time to mingle, you both decided one night a week would be date night. Just the two of you without any distractions, to reconnect.
You finished setting the food out, looking up seeing it was six o'clock, you hurried and got ready, knowing Loki would be by your room at seven. You slipped on your new emerald green lingerie set you bought just for him, slipping on your most revealing dress that would make Nat proud, you fluffed your hair and touched up your make up before making your way back to living room, anxiously awaiting the arrival of your mischievous God.
You sat on the couch, playing with the hem of your dress, dinner long forgotten as you awaited Loki's return. You looked up seeing it was past two in the morning and you sighed "He forgot." You said to yourself, feeling a tear roll down your cheek. You felt your face heat up as you heard the door open into the dark living room, you knew who it was, as he stumbled inside, toeing his shoes off, flipping on the light. "Darling, why are you sitting in the dark?" He asked walking in further. "Did you forget something Loki?" You asked not looking at him. He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly confused. "Where were you?" You asked finally looking at him. "After the mission, Thor took us all out to celebrate." He smiled as he came closer, leaning down you could smell the alcohol on him.
You got up, making your way to the table, the food still spread out. "It's good to know where I stand with you." You said as you cleared the table. "What do you mean?" He asked following you "what is today? What is it we agreed to last week hmm?" You asked crossing your arms. You saw realization hit him as he saw how you were dressed, the food laid out, candles burnt down to the holders "No, I totally forgot." He said looking at you "yeah, I'm pretty easy to forget apparently." You said throwing a plate of food in the sink. "I'm so sorry love, it won't happen again." He said stepping closer to you. "That's what you said the last eight times Loki! You always forget our dates! You always forget....me." you said feeling the tears welling in your eyes.
"Darling I'm very busy, you have to understand.." he started "Oh I understand loki! Drinking with your friends is more important then coming home to your girlfriend." You said pushing past him. "Darling.." he started "Don't! Just don't. I can't do this anymore Loki. Six months is long enough." You said sighing. "What are you saying love?" He said stepping closer "I'm saying I'm done Loki. I could accept being second, hell maybe even third priority, but your last, I won't do it." You sighed shaking your head. "I need you to leave." You said going to the door. "But y/n.." he started "I said leave! I can't be with you anymore, I'm clearly not enough for you." You said looking down. He slowly walked over, grabbing his shoes and jacket, stopping through the door "im truly sorry y/n." He said but you didn't respond as you closed the door.
A few weeks had gone by, you spent most of your nights crying yourself to sleep. Your days mainly spent on autopilot, barely functioning. You had barely seen Loki since that night, occasionally running onto him in the halls, or the common room, you actively tried to avoid him."Hey y/n. How are you?" You heard Steve as he came in the main kitchen "fine, you?" You asked sipping your coffee "Oh pretty good. Hey, I was wondering if I could ask you a question." He said smiling "sure." You turned looking at him "i was wondering if I could take you to dinner tonight?" He asked watching your reaction. "Umm, sure, why not." You said smiling. "Great, I'll pick you up at eight." He said "ok sounds good." You said heading back to your room.
"Y/n, did I hear that correctly?" You heard behind you, turning to see Loki standing behind you. "Depends on what you heard." You shrugged feigning indifference. "You are going on a date with that, that boy scout?" He asked stepping closer. "Why do you care Loki?" You asked crossing your arms "You didn't care what I was doing before. Why now?" You stood waiting. "I have always cared y/n." He said. "Oh, is that why you ignored me, went out without me, talked to other women in front of me, because you cared?" You asked "y/n, I know I have failed you, but I want to make it up to you. I want to fix this, I want you to come back." He sighed coming closer. You shook your head "it's too late Loki, I love you and I always will. But I can't be last in your life, I'm sorry." You said, going into your room before your resolve broke and you lunged at him, sliding to the floor, you pulled your knees up to your chest and sobbed.
You got back from your date with Steve, he was nice, and clearly good looking, but it didn't feel right. You smiled as he walked you through the common room towards your room "I had a nice time y/n, I've wanted to ask you out for awhile, but you were spoken for." He smiled looking down. "I had a nice time too Steve, thank you." You smiled as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You felt his arm slide around your back, pulling you towards him as he deepened the kiss, pressing you to the door of your room.
You broke the kiss, looking down as he held you to him. "I'm really tired, I should get to sleep." You said as he let go backing up "of course, I'll see you tomorrow y/n." He smiled "Goodnight Steve." You smiled back at him "Goodnight y/n." You heard as you went inside closing the door, leaning on it. You liked Steve, but he wasn't Loki, he couldn't make you feel the way Loki did, you doubted anyone ever could. You sighed kicking your shoes off and heading to your room. You changed into your pajamas getting ready for bed when you heard a knock on your door.
You opened it seeing Loki standing there, eyes swollen and red, his hair a disheveled mess, wearing a shirt and sweatpants as he looked up at you "y/n, please, im so sorry!" He said falling to his knees, grabbing you by your waist as he sobbed "I am so lost without you. You are everything to me." He said holding you tighter as your hand rested on his head "I will never forgive myself for my stupidity. I never should have treated you as I did. Please, let me make it up to you, come back to me." He said "Loki, you promised so many times, why should I believe this is any different?" You asked looking down as his eyes met yours "because I will prove it to you. Let me show you how much you mean to me, please. And if I fail I will never bother you again." He said watching you. "Loki, I can't let you hurt me again." You sighed closing your eyes. "I won't love, never again. Please, I can't lose you." He sobbed gripping your middle.
"You have alot to prove, are you sure I'm worth it?" You asked looking at him. "I would die a thousand deaths for you y/n. Let me prove myself worthy of you my queen." He said looking up at you. "This is your last chance Loki. I can't do this again." You said "you will not regret it love." He said, pulling you down with him, engulfing you in a hug. "I will show you my love, I swear it." He whispered in your ear. "I hope so Loki." You sighed as he rocked you back and forth.
💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚
@vbecker10 @lulubelle814 @lokiprompts
#loki#anon aks#anon request#loki request#loki angst#loki odinson angst#loki laufeyson angst#loki fanfiction#loki fanfic#loki imagine#loki oneshot#loki odinson fanfiction#loki odinson imagine#loki laufeyson fanfic#loki laufeyson imagine#loki x you#loki x y/n#loki x female reader#loki x reader#loki odinson x reader#loki odinson x you#loki odinson x y/n#loki odinson#loki laufeyson x y/n#loki laufeyson x reader#loki laufeyson#loki laufeyson x female reader#loki laufeyson x you#loki mcu#mcu loki
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I'm so weak to angsty yuri, you show me 2 gals with a sad story and I'll be screaming crying throwing up over them in no time
#I like like 90% of the ak ships i like for this reason#when the angst hits it Hits#gibe me sadgirls being sad togwether. dedicatibg themselves to each other.#what if there was a woman dedicating herself to a sickly woman. Hwat if they.. kissed about it
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I just love thinking about jason x reader
Big bulky jason who has so much trauma and issues and needs and why would you even dedicate your entire life being patient and kind with him
But that same jason refuses to let u out the bed. The jason that will press Your feet after HE is the one who just went crime fighting
Jason who Hates being separated on his days off and will sit beneath the table between your legs hugging your waist with his on your thighs if you're doing work or meeting or studying
Jason who literally Hates work, vengeance, revenge, mafia stuff , crime fighting , saving the world ..basically anything that makes him spend time away from you.
Jason who prolly just leaves all this behind and genuinely works at processing his trauam . Becomes a literature teacher in a nice university. Settles down with you and have a normal life...give you the life you deserve
Not before saving up enough from mafia/batpay to give you the best luxury
Jason who just wants to stare at you , Hold you, get kisses from you forever
#jason todd reader insert#jason todd fluff#jason todd x reader#jason tddd#jason todd drabble#jason todd fic#jason todd#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#red hood x reader#ak!jason todd#ak!jason x reader#Jason Todd x Reader#Jason Todd x You#Jason Todd x Y/N#Jason Todd Fluff#Jason Todd Angst#Jason Todd Comfort#Jason Todd Headcanons#Jason Todd Imagines#Red Hood x Reader#Red Hood x You#Red Hood x Y/N#Red Hood Fluff#Red Hood Comfort#Batfamily#Batfamily x Reader#Batfamily Fluff#Batfamily x You#Batfamily x Y/N
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loving someone doesn’t save them ༊*·˚
༘♡ no person will ever be willing to forget their love
in which harry appears on your doorstep & asks questions about R.A.B.
It was a tragedy for everyone else, for everyone who only knew him by his last name; but for you, it was like ripping out a part of your heart and then leaving back shattered pieces collided with the weakest glue. No one prepared you for this - he didn’t prepare you. Even the night you last saw him; he gave you a kiss on the lips, a smile, and said: « Goodnight. »
If that sick feeling was a bottle you would've broken it, if it was a wall you would've torn it down, if it was a piece of paper you would've cast it into the fire. But no, your heart was sobbing for days, months, years, and you were doomed to spend the rest of your life with a hole inside your chest that couldn't be filled.
You hated him, mostly because he said he loved you and because you had plans and he gave you his ring as a promise with a kiss and a "don't worry everything's going to be fine." How could you love someone that didn’t prepare you for this? That didn’t tell you to hug him tighter that night or to say that you loved him one last time before he left once and for all. Maybe you didn't know him as much as you thought and for the rest of your life, you would always have an unanswered question; why didn't he give you a sign.
After eighteen years you were able to forgive him. But you never forgot about him.
You started a family away from London in the countryside, away from everything and everyone. Your husband - a muggle - didn't know about your past and you had never opened the door of that haunted house filled with screaming voices of friends and family. Your kids were your priority, two happy little girls that wanted to play in the garden all day under the sun.
However, the sun had abandoned you the last few months and the sky was always veiled, misty with storms and rains. No matter the attempts of the Daily Prophet to reassure you and quieten your concerns, you knew something terrible was about to happen. You had seen it happening before, spreading and destroying everything in its passage. Everyone you loved was dead because of this.
And all of your suspicions came true when on a rainy afternoon thunderous poundings were heard on your door.
Your husband was in town and you were working in your office as your girls were playing in front of the fireplace. It was only natural for you to feel a knot in your stomach and your body instantly freezing.
« Mom, someone’s on the door! »
You left your typewriter aside and got out of your office. The shape of a person was printed on the glass, a man. You weren't expecting any guests and your husband had car and keys with him.
« Girls, why don’t you go upstairs? », you smiled at them. They both looked at you unsurely with that childish expression of concern and the need to protect their mother.
« Is something wrong, mommy? »
« No, no, love, » your voice came out gently as you held their soft cheeks. « Just go upstairs. » They obeyed your words hesitantly, giving you second glances over the pile of toys gathered on their hugs, and turned to the upper floor.
Once they were out of sight, you ran to your office to get your wand and then back to the entrance. With a quick move, you raised your wand and the door opened wide, letting you point to the person that was standing there.
« Hi, » he said not really paying attention to your wand. It was a young man, a boy not even eighteen years old. « I’m looking for Y/N L/N. » For a moment you stayed there, your blood running cold in your veins, frozen, with your heart skipping beats. It couldn't be, it was some kind of sick joke.
Your lips separated studying each and every one of his features. Rain was pressing down short black curls, droplets dripping down his half-closed eyes, and trailing lines across his dark skin. He had glasses on, foggy and stained; the same kind of glasses your best friend wore years before he was lost - murdered. But it couldn’t be him. He took them off and wiped the water with his fingers before your gaze met a deep brown, honey set of eyes - Lily Evans’ eyes.
« Harry? », you let your wand drop. He stared at you.
« You know me? »
« Don’t just sit there, come in, » you opened the door wider for him to pass inside, letting the sound of it echo behind you. Your eyes examined him. You hadn't seen him since he was only a baby.
His stare roomed the house as he gave you his jacket, seeing pictures of your children, you, your husband.
« I’m Harry, Harry Potter, » he turned back tenting his arm forward.
« I know, » you smiled at him and shook his hand. You kissed both of his cheeks and gestured to the living room. « I’m Y/N. » Your eyes kept staring at him until you caught the uneasiness in the air, so you took a seat on the armchair. « Can I bring you anything, Harry? »
« No, no, thank you, » he shook his arms sitting on the couch across from you.
« I suppose everyone tells you, you are just like your dad. Except for the eyes, of course. Those are Lily’s. »
« You knew my parents? » You smiled.
« Oh, I didn’t just know them, we were friends - best friends. I have so many stories to tell you. »
« I’d love to hear them all, » Harry said.
« And I also have a photo album. » You haven’t seen that grin and that spark in a pair of eyes for years, and the truth was, you had missed them more than words could possibly describe. « But first, you have to tell me the reason of your visit, Harry Potter. »
His cheerful expression slowly faded, clouds passing by his features. Fingers fumbled in the pocket of his jeans and without losing any time he brought out a necklace, a locket - the locket.
Your eyes exchanged a look between the locket and Harry, fear marked on your face as he offered it to you and you just shook your head pulling back.
« Where did you get this? », you asked not being able to change your gaze away from that devilry.
« Do you recognize this? », Harry questioned. You raised your eyes slowly shaking your head.
« Harry, I don’t know where you found this or what you intend to do, but please stay away from it. »
« What do you mean? »
« Where did you even find it? Did you go to the cave? » Harry furrowed his brows. You realized at that moment, he probably didn’t expect you to know and maybe it was for the best to stop yourself. But you had questions and you were sure the same applied to him. « Is this the one? »
« No, this is the fake one, » Harry said opening it and bringing forward a small piece of parchment. He offered it to you which you took hesitantly. You read it. A slight smile twitched on your lips. The handwriting, the damn handwriting, and that R.A.B. that had always been his way of signing notes or letters. « R.A.B. », Harry spoke. « Regulus Ar- »
« Arcturus Black, » you interrupted him. His eyes looked up at yours that rested on that old parchment. Your fingers traced the surface of the last words he left in this world. You rubbed your sight, a hot sense lurking behind, ready to blur your vision, and pressed your lips together tightly. « Regulus Arcturus Black. » It had been years since the last time you spoke his name out loud. You had forgotten the sound of it. It was nothing more than words in your head, but when said those three words, magically, it took life again.
« The locket belonged to Sirius’ brother, » Harry spoke as you gave him back the note. A mischievous smile slowly appeared on your face that made the boy feel uncomfortable facing someone who knew the person he was trying for months to do an introspection to.
« Is that the reason of your visit? » Harry looked at you with the fullest and deepest stare. He spoke quietly but steadily sure of what he was saying.
« You knew Regulus Black. You knew what he was trying to do. You knew everything. »
« I didn’t know anything, » you replied.
« I don’t believe you, » Harry said. You furrowed your brows and allowed your looks to meet. It was interesting talking to him. He had Lily’s straightforwardness and sharpness, and James’ expressions.
« Why are you here? How did you find me? »
« I found letters of yours in R.A.B.’s room. » With these words the muscle of your jaw clenched. You never imagined that your personal writings would be read by someone other than him. The feeling of anger was boiling under your skin. The only thing that held you back, that didn’t erupt the volcano inside you, was that he was a kid. « Hard to find. They were very well-hidden. »
« And how did you find out my name? », you asked. You always signed with a pseudonym that only a few selected people knew about.
« Professor Lupin helped me with that. » That's when you let a small smile appear on your face again and sat better back on the armchair.
« Professor Lupin? », you chuckled. « The old bastard... »
« I need to know, » Harry said seriously which brought you back to the conversation. « You knew Regulus Black. You knew everything. »
« I’m afraid you are losing your time here. I knew Regulus, » you told him. « I didn't know everything. He didn’t let me know everything. »
« Why? »
« Because he loved me. » Harry didn't speak just watched your expression change. He watched the way your jaw muscle broke, that bitter smile on your mouth and your head lightly shaking. You bit your lower lip and shrugged. « Because he knew exactly what he was doing. And because he knew exactly how it was going to end. » None of you spoke after that. « I don't know anything else, Harry, truly. He never prepared me or anyone else for this. »
« I don’t understand why he did that, » his voice cut those few seconds of silence. He shook his head, eyes fixed to the ground, giving to your piercing stare glances every now and then. « I don’t understand him. »
« You know, » you breathed out. « At first I was mad at him - maybe I still am a little - but through the years, I realized that, that was his way. Regulus just followed his heart without giving any explanation to anyone. He acted with his senses and his emotions and did the things he considered right. Regulus didn’t care about the price. He could even pay with his life. »
« Sirius told me he was a stupid idiot whose only ambition was to join the Death Eaters. »
« Sirius loved him, Harry. But he didn’t know him at all. Nobody knew him really, I'm afraid. »
« What about you? »
« Barely, » you shrugged sadly. « He didn’t let me know him, he just let me love him. But does it matter now? Loving someone doesn’t save them. »
#hamlets-ak#harry potter#regulus black#r.a.b#regulus arcturus black#to the dark lord#regulus last letter#marauders era#black family#sirius black#regulus x y/n#regulus black fanfic#regulus black fanfiction#regulus black imagine#regulus x reader#regulus fanfiction#regulus angst
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I loved the little bits we got of the triad in this new episode, like all of them hanging out together in different scenes, also looking all cool together, the boys walking behind audrey? loved that! my fave scene tho was that when they're leaving after audrey confronts her dad where Aki is like we should go and he literally pulls audrey and max away from that asshole and he looks back to Audrey's dad all protective of them??? 😭 can I have a thousand more scenes like that one please?
#makidrey#max x audrey x aki#gossip girl#ggrb#the triad#tbh i saw sooooo much potential for angst in this episode but that's just me wanting my blorbos to suffer and then heal together#and the show is still pushing one pairing over the other in the triad tho in this episode was a little more balanced#but tbh im so obsessed with the three of them together that I'll take almost anything they give me#ill probably post my angsty ideas later... just to get them off my mind lol#ALSOOOOOOOO THE AK-EYE BIT!!! LMAO i loved that#ok ill stop now
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So long, Marianne III
Summary: Reader is a spy working undercover in Gotham when she meets Jason Todd, who despite her better judgement she forms a very close friendship with. This story follows their escape from Arkham asylum, their fall out and the times they run into each other as they get older.
Relationship: AK!Jason x Meta!Fem!Reader
Warnings: Mentions of reader being at the beach and wearing unspecified swimwear, mentions of Jason being taller than reader, the shittiest vaguest smut you'll ever read (it's separated with ** in case anyone wants to skip it), mentions of past SA, and graphic descriptions of depression (like straight out of my psychopathology textbook). So minors DNI!!!!
Word Count: 6,5K
Read on ao3
Masterlist - Mobile masterlist
Years passed and you got better, better at handling your feelings, at smothering them down so you wouldn't make the same mistake again. Countless identities after and you haven't even been close to getting involved with someone the same way you did with Jason. Now you lived and moved under the name "Penny Lewis", a fake identity as a journalist that would allow you to move around countries to wherever they sent you. You wouldn't lie to yourself, it was lonely and on some nights you wished you would've said yes to him. But you wouldn't have forgiven yourself if you let your life be defined by him. You knew the consequences of deserting and any happiness a life with him could've bought you would have been overshadowed by guilt. You heard of Joker's death from some people you walked past last time you were in the States, realizing he finally died of whatever disease he was making you slow down on the very same night you escaped. You also found out Batman was still alive and kicking, after that you wondered were Jason was, wasn't he hellbent on killing him?
Now you were stationed in Venezuela, the closest headquarters of your agency were in an entire different country so you were all on your own. Your only company being the agent who you got partnered with, a serious guy, with not much muscles but was a tech expert. The cover was that you were a regular couple on a holiday, but what you were really doing was investigating, someone was training people and forming an army there. You had to find out who and why. You've felt bad about certain missions before, especially when after getting the information you needed your bosses decided not to do anything about it because they deemed the situation was "not important enough", when you were there available and ready to stop a tragedy. What would be the reason for someone to form a secret army in a country under a dictatorship? Maybe they were just trying to get their rights back, free their country. But you sighed and pushed it all down, at least you get to enjoy the sea for a moment.
Unbeknownst to you, you were being observed from a distance . He was doing a routine perimeter check by himself, using it as an excuse to take a walk and be on his own, when he looked around and thought he saw you in the distance from the cliff he was on. He thought it'd be impossible but still presses on the side of his helmet to zoom in, so it was you. You had a different haircut, and hair color but he'd recognize you anywhere. He takes in the sight of you, now older and no longer the teenager he remembered. You were talking to someone, the other person stands up when you turn around to take off your dress and leave it on an arm-chair. He doesn't mean to but his breath hitches when he sees you in your swimwear, guess he didn't get over his crush like he thought. His expression under the mask changes when he sees who you were talking to, a guy, a very friendly guy who puts a hand on your hip and you kiss his cheek. What the fuck? Is the only thing he could think about. Until he feels a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Are we losing time spying on girls on the beach now?" The scoff he lets out in response is almost inaudible under the electronic voice the helmet gave him.
"Fuck off, Wilson" He brushes off the hand on his shoulders and moves along, clearly you were not who he remembered. You moved on when he couldn't, he was holding onto a memory and a moment of his life he knew would never come back. He had to force himself to see what you really were right now, a threat to his plan not an old friend.
Knowing of your presence and your line of work, he instructed his men to run more frequent perimeter checks and be more wary of any breaches or intrusions. So, a few nights after he first saw you, you find yourself sneaking into his base. You were good, stealthy and well-trained, light on your feet and fast- with the addition of being able to stop time. You avoid all eyes, and hide in the dark using the lack of lights to your advantage. Of course the secret military base would have the least amount of lights outside of it to avoid attracting any attention. It was close enough to the city in case anything was needed but also far away enough to go unnoticed. Whoever was running this operation knew what they were doing. You climbed to the roof of the main building, where you thought was most likely to have an office, which would have papers or a computer that you could use to find out who they were. Quick fingers work on picking the lock of a door on the back of it but as soon as you open it you are stopped.
A gun is pressed to your temple and you thought "fuck", you almost made it in.
"Don't move an inch, sweetheart" The man next to you speaks, and then moves your hair with the muzzle "I remember you, no powers, make a move and I'll shoot you"
You weakly nod in response, how did you even get caught? You've been studying their shifts, their patterns, everything. He was not supposed to be here. You raise your hands, signaling defeat, a bullet to your head was one of the things you couldn't heal. He opens the door and pushes you in, it leads to a dark storage unit. With the gun still fixed on your head he walks behind you, telling you were to go. Until you made it to the main room, a few gasps and whispers from the men there are heard, shocked to see someone made it past through all the security measures. You could feel the uncountable amount of eyes on you, the attention making you uneasy- not that your life being threatened didn't make you feel uneasy enough. But if he had orders to kill on sight, you would've been dead by now so you may still have a chance of escaping.
"Someone call the Knight!" He shouts, getting somebody to bind your hands behind your back with a zip tie "this gun leaves her head and we're all fucked"
He was right, you'd go for him first. Maybe only for him and then flee, they wouldn't make a fuss over one casualty. You could still complete your mission. Then you see him walking towards you, a tall man, wearing a helmet- was it electronic? huh? You assume only the helmet is robotic because he moved like a real person, it wouldn't be the weirdest thing you've come across. A robot leading a secret militia, that's a funny story to tell. Everything from his posture to the way he walked and held himself made you think he looked like the boss of this place. His gloved hand holds your jaw and leans down, like he's getting a good look at you under the blue screen of his helmet. You debate for a second if it'd be a good idea to spit on it, you were already fucked there's no other way than down now.
"To think such a pretty face could take us all out before we noticed" You barely hear the whisper of the modulated voice. And you don't know why it angers you to the point all logic is thrown out the window and you decide to take it out on the --much taller than you-- guy in front of you. He acknowledged your strength, what you were capable of doing and called you pretty while he was at it too.
You headbutt him below his chin, figuring that might be a weak point in the helmet. Had he not worn that you would've gone straight for his forehead, it was his fault for putting himself so close to you. He stumbles a few steps back from you, and you could hear the "ohh"s and gasps from the men there. It feels good for about 5 seconds, then you start wondering why you haven't been shot yet. Wasn't the man who found you supposed to be a hit man or something like that? And you were also severely outnumbered, this could have been over a while ago. You hear a robotic chuckle, it probably didn't even hurt him, and then hes grabbing your arm tightly, pushing a gun to your side.
"Adorable" He mocks
"Fuck you" You whisper under your breath, still not ready to go without a fight.
"Party's over, go the fuck home" He screams , squeezing your arm so hard you'll think it will leave a bruise "I'll handle her myself"
He starts guiding you away and for a second you have trouble keeping up with his much longer steps. You huff in annoyance, sure that if you were to stop walking he could hold you up and drag you with how strong his grip was on you. You move quite a lot, you didn't expect the place to be so big, you even go up a set of stairs until he finally opens the door to what looks like an office-kind of. It doesn't look like the place gets much use, and the sole desk only has a few things scattered over it, you doubt any of them had any importance if he took you there. There wasn't even a computer on it and you noted the chair on the other side even had dust on it. What you didn't hear on your way out was the words exchanged between the men, which would definitely have let you guess who hid under the robot mask.
"They know each other?" One of the Knight's most trusted lieutenants asked.
"She's an old ex-girlfriend of his," He clarifies, remembering how you got away. "used to be a real pain in my ass once"
"He knew she was coming?"
Slade just shrugged and walked away, avoiding anymore questions. Of course the kid knew, that's why he had doubled the perimeters check, he wasn't stupid. But it wasn't until now that he put two and two together and realized you were who he was staring at the beach the other day.
He turns you to face the desk with your back to him and it makes you nervous. What was he going to do? You'll freeze him and escape if he tries anything weird, screw a cover. They already knew too much about you so it's not like your cover mattered much anyways. He takes out a knife, God knows from where, and to your surprise uses to cut off the zip tie around your wrists.
"Why are you freeing me?"
"Because I know you wont try anything funny" You recognize the now non-modulated voice, of course it's him. Who else would be running a militia like this? It almost makes you want to laugh, sure this is how you find each other after 5 years. You see the helmet dropped at the desk but you don't dare to turn and face him just yet. You had 5 years to think about everything, to make peace with every choice you took but you were still a little afraid to face him.
"This usual for you?" He asks when you keep quiet, you don't even look at him. He wants to say he's disappointed but he can't. He knows someone like you, pretty and perfect, won't dwell in the past like he does. "Getting caught?"
"No," you reply in a weak whisper "this is my first time actually"
"What about the time-"
"It was on purpose, I was ordered to let myself get captured" You cut him off, crossing your arms in front of yourself, as if trying to shield your body from something you were not quite sure what it was. This was one of the things that would be easier to tell him without looking at his face, not like you are not dying to stare at him and see if he's changed with the years.
"Of course," He scoffs, a gloved hand resting on your shoulder "you just happened to run into your kidnapped boyfriend, lucky me"
You blush despite the situation you were in, you never thought you'd live to see the day you heard Jason calling himself your boyfriend-even if he was using that tone. Even if he had an attitude like that, was he still pissed? even after all this time?
"Jason" You sigh, what now? You tell him about how you were ordered not to look for him any further? How you disobeyed and got yourself punished from insubordination? Though that is probably how you ended up with that suicide --let yourself be captured-- mission that led you to find him.
"What? Can't even look me in the eye?" He sighs too, ending the sentence by whispering your name. "You hate me now?"
"Don't ever say that" You quickly turn around to face him. Was he always this tall? And this huge? He's obviously gained a lot of muscle since the last time you saw him, and probably grew a few inches taller too. Do boys keep growing after they turn 18? Or did he always tower over you this much? You made yourself a mental note to look it up when it was safe. Yeah, you saw him moments ago, but he had the helmet on, you didn't know you were looking at Jason it was different.
He, obviously, still has the J scar on his face, and he looks even more rough than what you remembered. You still think he's handsome, though. And his eyes are just as pretty as you remembered. It feels like the world stopped on its axis when you look at him, your memory pales in comparison to the real thing. Even if his presence has changed, and he feels much more dangerous now, you still see the same boy who would sneak to your room to get his broken ribs fixed and cuddle you. You wanted to believe he was still in there, that all the trouble you went through to help him wasn't for nothing. He's staring at you too, he has been since you entered his view, but now he is not wearing the mask so you can see his eyes trained on you.
"I could never hate you" You wanted to reach for him, touch him, just to make sure it was real but you refrained from doing it. You didn't know if he'd be okay with it, you had to bring yourself back to earth and think about how much he could've changed in the past few years.
"There you are, looking prettier than the day I left you" He apparently has no problem grabbing your face and squeezing your cheeks.
"Oh so your memory is intact" you push his hand away, his words reminding you that you were supposed to be mad at him.
"Come on, baby" He's trying to butter you up with the pet name, and you're ashamed to say it's working "You promised me some answers"
"Then ask" You tease, leaning backwards to the desk and resting your palms on it to support yourself.
"Why Marianne? Why Penny?" He asks, your legs were caged in between his not allowing you to leave as he towered over you. Hot, you thought against all logic and reason. You are not surprised to hear him say your new alias either, he must've done his research too.
"They're songs from the sixties" Your head tilted to the side with your gaze still fixed on him. You were just trying to update your memory of him, for future reference.
"The Beatles?"
"And Leonard Cohen, you should look him up." You suggest.
"Who's the guy with you?" You chuckle at the petty question.
"Jealous much? Don't worry about him, it's all make pretend"
"What about your family?" Jason questions, not letting you linger on the fact that he was in fact very jealous of the guy he thought to be your boyfriend.
"My parents died in the accident that gave me my powers... or at least that's what they told me." You sigh, ouch sensitive topic, but you had promised yourself to tell him everything he wanted to know because of the guilt that ate you up when you thought he was dead. You never saw their bodies or any confirmation that this was true. All you had to go from was their word, and they could've killed your parents to secure you as an asset for all you know. "It also gave me amnesia, so I don't remember much of that"
"And you don't have a missing sister?" He follows up, remembering what you told him all those years ago. That you were not interested in fighting crime like he was, you were sneaking out at night to try to find your missing sister. Something you wouldn't tell him much about, and he didn't pressure you into giving out more information because he thought it was a sensitive subject.
"I have a sister," you look down and to the side, as if hiding your face from him "she isn't missing. She's got a normal life and it'll stay like that"
"Is she why you didn't leave with me?" His hand gently guides your chin so you look up at him again, this time you grab his wrist to stop him. Yes , you wanted to say.
"Lose the gloves," You try to change the subject, now holding the most intense eye contact of your life "touch me seriously"
He's taken aback by your request. You wanted what? Him touching you? He's not sure if he should do it, ever since his time in Arkham he's been keeping to himself. Jason's pretty sure the last time he felt skin to skin contact was the last time he saw you, when he grazed your skin pulling your hair back.
"How do your powers work?" He asks, changing the subject too. You were just two people trying so hard to avoid the other to step on their emotional landmines. If one of you got too close the other would be quick to push them away, not allowing yourselves to fully open up despite promising to be honest. It almost makes you want to sigh in defeat, you were still holding his wrist so you put his hand on the desk behind you as close to your body as possible.
"I control time to a certain degree, so when I heal you I just turn your body back to before it was injured," You explain "it wouldn't work on any disease your body was going to develop anyways, I can slow it down but your body will always progress to it"
"Like Alzheimer?" You nod "So when you stopped Deathstroke you...froze him in time?"
"Pretty much, yes"
"What about bullet wounds?"
"Can't do much if the bullet's still inside, I can only stop the bleeding so much"
"And what abou-"
"Jay" You cut him off with a plea.
And with the look you give him he decides to give it a shot, just for you. He roughly presses his lips to yours, to test if he'd be able to take it. It almost knocked the air out of your lungs, first he refused to take off his gloves to touch you and now he's kissing you like this.
"I want to..." He whispers, his hands holding your face to make sure you won't go anywhere. "I want to try"
"We can take it slow" You offer and he nods along, letting go of you to finally take off his gloves.
First he touches your face, taking in your soft skin and you let him. You've wanted to feel his hands on you for too long, he can touch you anywhere he wants for all you care. Then he moves them down to your waist, and pulls up your black shirt until it's not tucked in your pants and he can sneak under the clothing, your breath hitches but you allow it. The second he's kissing you again he's completely disregarding what you told him about going slow. If it wasn't for him holding you, your arms on which you were resting your weight would've given out.
"Can I?" You barely manage to get away from him to ask, and he nods quickly before kissing you again.
Your arms go around his neck, just enough to push him closer to you but at the same time trying not to overwhelm him. What did slow mean again? He realizes how touch starved he is, that it's not that he didn't want to be touched at all, he wanted to be touched by someone he knew would never hurt him. He needed to know that said touch wasn't meant to harm him or didn't have any second intentions to do so. Jason understands, right in that moment, that he wanted you back as much as wanted revenge on Batman. He's lifting you up so you sit on the desk, a hand leaving your waist just to guide your legs to wrap around him. He starts to lift your shirt up, but you stop him. You couldn't bear the feeling of someone else's hands taking off your clothes, not again. It almost felt like you could hear her voice again, telling you all about how you were such a cute thing and you were lucky her and her homicidal maniac of a partner were looking out for you from other immates-- and staff members. Worst part was you knew deep down she wasn't lying about that. You desperately don't want to go back there, not now.
"I'm sorry-"you whisper, and he recognizes that tone and that look in your face. It's the same as his own "let me..."
He only hums in agreement and gives you some space so you can take your black shirt off. Your fingers curl trying to get a hold of the chest-plate of his armor when you drag him back to kiss you. You feel his warm hands on your waist again, lowering down and keeping you in place. There was no running away now, not that you wanted to. Jason was not letting go of you tonight, his hold staying the same as his kisses go from your lips to your neck, right over your pulse point. He guides your hand to where you could take the suit off, and you learn fast working on undoing buckles and belts to rid him of the unnecessary layer of metal right now.
"I missed you" he whispers against your neck, you were blushing now.
"I missed you too" You sigh, the chest armor dropping to the floor with a loud noise that almost makes both of you flinch.
You had your eyes closed up until that moment where he stopped. You caught him staring at the tattoo on your hip. They were numbers small enough not to draw attention to them, written in a way you could've passed it off as a date in case anyone asked but its real purpose was to serve to recognize you in case you died. That was if the tracker under your skin was taken out or your face was unrecognizable. It made you feel like branded livestock, as if you were just an object. You always avoid looking at it and he should do the same. Now it was your turn to grab his chin and lead his face to look at you. Jason wasn't the only one troubled in this relationship, you had your own issues too.
"Don't" you scold, setting a clear boundary. Which he respects, he won't ask about it and if you don't want him to stare he won't.
He evens you out by taking the black long-sleeved t-shirt he wore under the suit and you don't want to stare but good God... Your eyes rush from his abs back to his eyes and you catch him smirking, you let out a giggle at the thought of him teasing you for it. He was about to do the same to you, make you look up so you wouldn't pay attention to his scars but when he noticed they were your eyes looked he knew that's not what distracted you. It felt almost normal, like you were a normal girl and a normal guy about to hook up. Of course in the back of your head you knew it wasn't the case but you allowed yourself to cling into that sense of normalcy. He's grateful that you ignore his more visible scars, that you still see him as the guy you met in Gotham so long ago. He wants to think that in your eyes at least he wasn't a failure.
"I'm sorry," He whispers, both hands cupping your face tenderly as if he wasn't holding your entire skull in them "I get it now... why you couldn't tell me, and that I treated you like shit"
"Yeah, you were a bit of an asshole" You tease with a chuckle.
He presses a soft kiss to your lips and you almost paw at his wrists when you feel like he's pulling away from you. "Will you forgive me?"
"Jay-" You murmur, seeing the tears forming in his eyes, it's the softest voice he's ever heard "I already have"
*.*
His mouth only meets yours again for a few seconds before he pushes everything off the desk, dusty papers falling everywhere and all over the floor. He's pressed up against your core when he lays you down on your back. This is were he belongs, your legs wrapped around him as he plasters kisses all over your jaw, your neck and collarbone, just anywhere he could reach. How soft lips welcome him again and again, it's like a dream come true, and your warm skin against him which he can't get enough of. His hands are steady at your waist, making sure to keep you in place, yours busy themselves tugging at the short hair on the back of his neck.
"Jay" you moan, closing your eyes. Fuck, if he wanted to have you like this he could.
"My-my ro-room's over the-" He stutters, you've barely even touched the guy and he already felt like he was melting at your touch-you were making him soft and hard all at the right places. "over there"
"You wanna take me there?" You flirt with a pout and he nods with a weak uh-huh.
Soon he's dragging you up to pick you up, a giggle escapes your lips feeling his hands on your ass. You push away the thought of how much it was turning you on to be manhandled like this.Your hands slide down to his shoulders to steady yourself as he takes you to the well hidden room connected to this office. You don't get much time to appreciate the room decor--there isn't any-- before you are laying flat on your back again, this time against a mattress. He unties your boots so you can kick them off, then your pants come off with only a bit of help from him with dropping them to the floor and he takes a step back, getting a good look at you.
"I don't have any..." he hesitates, " 'm not really sleeping around here"
"You're not?" You tease, a feet reaching for him playfully and he catches your ankle to stop you rolling his eyes in the process, his gorgeous blue eyes. "I won't catch anything from you?"
"Fuck, no" Jason scoffs, as if he didn't test himself for every disease know to man when he got out of Arkham. Besides, like he said he wasn't sleeping around, he wasn't sleeping at all--in every sense of the word.
"It's okay"
"I won't catch anything from you?" He repeats the question, and you shake your head no with a smirk "not even a kid?"
"Don't worry about that," you blush, looking away "it won't happen"
He hums in acknowledgment as his hand slides down from your ankle to your knee, parting your legs so he can settle between them again. Your heart was racing at the feeling of his hand trailing higher up your thigh, until he pushed your underwear to the side. His eyes were fixed on you, watching every reaction you had to know what you liked. What made you feel better.
"Jay-" you moaned.
"Hm?" It was almost mocking how he hid his face on your neck plating wet kisses on your skin.
"Want you"
"Want me what?" He teases, and you can't take it anymore. You grab his face with both your hands to make him look at you again before kissing him.
"Want you to fuck me" The determination in your voice had him nodding and sliding off your underwear and his own remaining clothes.
He bites back whatever sound wanted to leave his lips when he slides inside you, he's too busy watching your mouth part in a gasp and your eyes shut. He takes it slow, letting you adjust-- and getting used to the overwhelming feeling of being so close to you. He's over you, he's surrounding you like he's the only thing that exists in this world. His heartbeat slows down, looking down at the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. Jason thinks that just like this he may as well eat you alive, at least that way there will be no more lies . That if he somehow managed to swallow you whole then he could know everything about you, the way you do about him. He's only pulled back to reality when he feels your hands at his shoulders, moving faster than what he could think he grabs your wrists to pin your hands over your head. His breath hitches and his heart skips a beat when your eyes meet again, only then he starts to move.
"I love you" he lets out after a few moments, letting go of your hands, his voice is low too low.
"I love you too" You nod, noticing the tears rolling down his cheeks and softly wiping them away with your thumbs.
He brushes it off, he's not ready for this-all of this intimacy. He doesn't stop though, he just moves away to stand upright, throwing your legs over his shoulders. You moan when you feel how much deeper he could go like this. He can't help himself around you, every wall he put up to distance himself from others disappear whenever you were around. It wouldn't matter how much you lied to him, or how much you hurt him, you took his heart and it would stay with you no refunds. I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm all yours, he wants to say but wouldn't bear the thought of you not saying the same so he'd keep it to himself.
"What-what's wrong?" You ask in a whisper when his movement falters, your cheeks flushed. You are so close.
"Nothing, just keep taking me like that pretty girl" The nickname makes you go crazy, now? He used to call you that only because he knew how much it embarrassed you. Unlucky for you, he liked seeing you flustered.
" 'M close, Jay" you whine, and he lowers a hand right where you needed it, the added pressure throwing you over the edge.
The way you feel around him is enough to push him over the edge mere seconds later, coming undone with a string of whispers of your name, again and again like a prayer. His head falls on your chest as you both try to catch your breath. Him wrapping his arms around your waist, holding himself closer to you if that was even possible as you pressed kisses to the top of his head.
*.*
"Hey, Jay" You call out to him in a hoarse whisper "are you awake?"
You get no answer from his sleeping form next to you, at some point you decide to trace his figure with your fingers, as if it'd help you remember him when you leave. You start with his jaw, then to his neck and his shoulders, feeling the rough skin under your fingertips. He really ought to buy some moisturizer, you scoff to yourself. You press a kiss between his shoulder blades before working your way down his arm. Your eyes got a bit teary looking at his scars, the carved out H+J in heart, the long slashes, the burn scar over his right shoulder. He had been through so much and he was still alive and kicking, sleeping next to you. You wish you could've come for him sooner, you didn't blame him for hating Batman. Hell you even had a few run-ins of your own with him because of it. Batman's own grief be damned he was supposed to be the world's greatest detective looking for his partner , the teenager he got to join him and the kid he was meant to take care of . He wasn't supposed to replace him that easily, it made you feel like you were the only one who cared about Jason. All this suffering he went through... it could've been helped, he didn't have to endure that. Your mind wanders to what that psycho did to him, if it was even worse than what you were put through, if he begged him to finish the job, the sight of him covered in blood- his own blood, beaten and branded, his empty eyes when you first saw him and then the flash of hope when he saw you which quickly washed away when he realized that you were there too.
You have to push back the images of what was done to you too, before you feel like you're outside of your body again or that you lose your grip on reality, again. You would never admit it to him but after he left the safe house you were brought back to the headquarters and couldn't get out of bed for almost six months, nothing felt real, your own thoughts felt too slow, your body too heavy too move. A major depressive episode, that's what your superiors classified it as. You knew it wasn't losing him that triggered it, it was the added of weight you'd been caring on your shoulders for too long and the fact that now you had nothing in your life that you even liked. Normaly they would've force-fed antidepressants to whatever agent that went through what you did but you wouldn't let anyone get closer than 2 meters, freezing more than one poor medic or nurse that was sent to see you. Or when they got to you and you reversed the effects of it, just out of spite. Eventually they gave up and waited as not even threats to your sister phased you. "Kill her and see how it goes for you," you said on a rare day where you found yourself able to speak "you'll have nothing to keep me here"
"What are you doing?" You don't even register him asking. He turns to face you and he notices you crying, only then do you realize he's awake so you wipe your tears as fast as you can. It is good for nothing, he already knows you're crying.
"I'm sorry, 's not the best thing to wake up to, huh?" You chuckle trying to pass off your own wave of sadness that just hit you.
"What's wrong?" He insists, was it him that made you so upset?
"Nothing's wrong, Jason" You lie, and he can see right through it.
"No, come on... keep going" He's using that tone again, the one that has you weakening every resolve and your knees giving out just to give him whatever he asked for, that whiny and needy voice that was reserved just for you. He also takes your hand and pushes it to his chest, wanting you to take off from where you left. Instead you move your hand underneath his to hold it, fingers interlocked as you leave a soft kiss to his knuckles. The feel of your lips on his skin, his harsh and calloused skin that has only known violence, has him blushing.
"I have to leave," you state, finally breaking the bubble you two were in since he took you to his office "I'd empty this place asap if I were you"
He steals a look at the watch behind him, the hours he spent with you are still on a single digit, that's all he gets with you. You get up, looking for your clothes that had been discarded all over the room mere hours ago.
"Fine" he scoffs, sitting on the bed and crossing his arms over his chest. Acting all tough and annoyed as the wound of you leaving reopens. He knows you'll never change your ways, he should've known you were heartache from the moment he met you. Jason knew nothing had changed, he doesn't know why he was even sad about you not choosing to stay with him. "Will I ever see you again?"
There's a beat of silence, you have your back turned to him so he can't see what kind of face you're making but he can see how you're pulling your pants up your ass. "I hope so, that was..." you puff and fan yourself with a hand.
He grabs your wrist when you get closer to the bed looking for your shoes, a sigh of your name has your gaze softening as you look back at him. Your lips pull up in a smile, caressing his face and sitting on his lap over the sheets."Bludhaven, find me there when you're done with whatever this is"
He nods, a hand of his going to your nape. He's trying to make you stay a little longer, even if it's just for a few moments and you know it so you give his scared cheek a sweet kiss. Find me when you're done with whatever this is, he can do that. He can wait a few more weeks for you.
"Where-" he starts, but you're no longer there. He felt your weight on him just a moment ago and now you were gone, he didn't even see your eyes light up before you made your way out of the place. You were probably on your way back, lying through your teeth about what you've been up to. And to that he sighs, getting up to get dressed and thinks "I've got to get my shit together, haven't worked this much for nothing"
A/N: not to copy paste all of my author's notes but I referenced like 3 songs so if you notice lmk :D
#w: jason#i mean this is part of a series but you could read it on its own i think#w: slm#jason todd x reader#ak!jason todd x reader#jason todd x reader angst#jason todd x reader smut#(kinda ig???)#jason todd x you
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