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belovedguk · 15 days

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i’m drunk, i love you

↪˚ summary: with only a day before graduation, you make a promise that you will not only graduate from university, but also from your feelings for your best friend of seven years, jeon jungkook.

↪˚ pairing: film student!jungkook x med tech student!fem!oc (named sola)

↪˚ genres: heavy angst, unrequited love, jungkook as an isko agenda, set in the ph 🇵🇭

↪˚ warnings: this story is fiction. it does not represent the members of bangtan or any of the idols here in real life. all resemblance to real life characters, institutions, associations, places, events, among others are either purely coincidence or depicted in a fictitious manner only. there’s really no warnings for this story other than it’s a self-indulgent fic to get me back to writing. the smut isn’t that severe. just kissing, nipple sucking, and grinding. this is based on the film, i’m drunk i love you, which i highly recommend you watch. i didn’t alter much of the plot & scenes bc i think they’re already great as it is, but i did tweak a bit here and there. i hope you enjoy! let me know what you think by reblogging/commenting. ♡

↪˚ total word count: 5,784

You were never quite the believer in love at first sight, but what you felt that night was the closest thing to that feeling.

He was one of the freshmen performers during your orientation, singing Adam Levine’s Lost Stars. Like the entire audience, you were captivated by his heavenly vocals and charisma as he performed on stage with an acoustic guitar one of the seniors lent him. Not only that, Jeon Jungkook wasn’t bad looking either—quite the opposite, really.

However, after the orientation, you didn’t get to see much of the dark-haired handsome boy. You were studying at UP, the biggest state university in the country, and so your paths were bound not to cross. Until, your older cousin, who was a senior at that time, invited you to eat dinner with him and a couple of his buddies after seeing you strolling around campus alone. When you arrived at the eatery, you not only saw your cousin Yoongi’s friends—Yijeong and Woosung—you also spotted the boy who hadn’t left your mind since you saw him over four months ago at that time.

You sat across from him and you tried your best not to freak out as Yoongi introduced the both of you. Apparently, he had already known Jungkook because he was the younger stepbrother of his other friend, Namjoon. During the course of your dinner, you and Jungkook didn’t really talk much. But you would muster up the courage to ask him some basic questions such as his program, why he went to UP, if he joined any orgs yet, etcetera. Jungkook was polite enough to answer your inquiries.

He was a Film major. He went to UP because everyone in his family went to UP so it was the most obvious choice for him and he was a member of the Film society. In return, Jungkook asked the same set of questions. You were a pre-med student, Medical Technology, to be exact, and you went to UP because it was your dream school. You were also a member of the College of Arts and Sciences’ student council.

After your meal was finished, Yoongi entrusted your care to Jungkook as they were going to meet up with some of their friends and you were both living at campus dormitories anyway. So, you hopped into his old army green Toyota Rav4 and needless to say, the ride back to UP was awkward. So, to get rid of the awkward silence, you asked if you could play some music. He said sure and handed you the aux cord already connected to his stereo. Once you had the other end connected to your phone, you played one of your favorite songs—Waltz of Four Left Feet by Shirebound and Busking.

To your surprise, Jungkook also knew the song and just like that, the awkward silence was gone and you became inseparable ever since.

Music became the bridge that connected you and Jungkook. Whenever you would hangout, it was always your topic—your favorite artists, songs, original scores in films, best albums, underrated artists, overrated artists, the current state of music, everything. He also became your gig buddy—seeking out mainstream and indie artists you both liked and going to their live performances downtown bars, jam packed arenas and stadiums.

But your favorite would always be watching him perform. After his performance at the orientation, he naturally became one of the popular students at UP. He wasn’t popular like a celebrity or an influencer, but heads would turn whenever he walked around campus. Also, he still had the luxury of privacy on his side, but if you looked at the right places, you would find small accounts on social media dedicated to him. He didn’t care for the attention, though, and just went about his day as normally as possible.

His performance did land him some gigs here and there. You found it cute whenever he’d turn to you to ask if he should accept the invitation or not, and you would always tell him to do whatever he wanted. Most of the time, he accepted, especially if it was at Route 96, a historic venue for aspiring musicians.

It was here that he performed the first song he wrote by himself called Still With You. It was also during this performance that you began to see him in a different light—quite literally. He was performing with the bar lights off, only the lights on stage and the spotlight illuminated the entire establishment. When the spotlight on him turned purple, you felt a whole new admiration for your best friend. It wasn’t the “Oh god I’m so proud of my best friend” kind, rather it was the “Oh fuck I’m in love with my best friend” realization.

But like every other story where someone falls in love with their best friend, you kept your feelings hidden, hoping someday it would go away. However, you soon realized, once you fell in love with Jeon Jungkook, there was no going back. It was a rabbit hole.

The more you spent time with him, the more you fell in love with him and all of him—from the way he smiles to the sound of his laugh, how he would always annoy the shit out of you when you were supposed to be studying to how he would remember small things about you like your favorite snack at the vending machine, how you’d be the first to know his test results to how you’d be his first audience for the short film they needed to produce for that semester, how he would lend you his jacket when you ate bingsu because he knew you’d get cold easily to how he’d send you random memes he found funny out of the blue.

It was so easy to fall in love with Jeon Jungkook. Thus, everyone else did too. For seven years, you watched on the sidelines as he dated several girls and loved them how you wished he’d love you.

“In one day, you can finally lay your hands on Jungkook,” your best friend, Mingyu, teased as he took a sip from his beer.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, head resting on your palm, elbow propped on the wooden table in front of you, a bottle of beer in the other hand. You were bordering on getting tipsy now as you had been drinking since you arrived at La Union with Mingyu and Jungkook in the afternoon. You didn’t even know why you agreed to your best friend’s idea of going to the province for a music festival when you had your graduation—the very graduation that was seven years in the making—on Sunday.

“Fuck you, Kim Mingyu,” you told the honey-skinned man across from you with a chuckle.

“What? Let this be your final test before finally graduating. Are you ready?” a lopsided grin appeared on his handsome face.

Under the orange light, Kim Mingyu was easily one of the most handsome men you ever laid your eyes on. He was also tall, well-mannered, smart, capable, had a stable job while being a med student, and the textbook definition of a walking green flag. In another life, you could imagine yourself falling for him instead of Jungkook. But in the current universe you were in, he was one of your trusted friends who had known about your crush on Jungkook since first year.

The waiter arrived to bring you your order of another bucket of Red Horse beer. Mingyu took a bottle from the silver bucket and opened it. “Happy horse for the happy whore,” he told you as he handed you the fresh bottle of beer. You gave him a middle finger. He laughed. “What? Am I not right?”

“You’re the whore,” you replied. “I saw you with that cute chinito by the beach earlier. What happened to Mino?”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of his ex—or you believed was his ex. You never really know with Mingyu and relationships. He was the complete opposite of you. While you were a hopeless romantic at heart, he didn’t believe in love—or so he says.

“Seven years,” Mingyu mused, glancing towards the beach. “You didn’t stop falling in love with your best friend. Now, it looks like you don’t even plan to stop.”

You sucked your teeth, tracing the water around the bottle due to the ice with your fingers. “Do I just throw it away?” You weren’t sure if you were asking Mingyu or yourself. “We make a good pair.” You laughed to yourself.

“Except?” Mingyu pointed out the harsh reality.

“Except,” you took in a shaky breath. “He doesn’t love me back. Maybe.”

Mingyu sighed deeply, looking at his watch. “Time check: you still have your hopes up.”

“It’s still early,” you argued. “I still have two days. Just give me time.”

“Give me time?” Mingyu repeated, taking a sip from his beer. “What the fuck are you talking about, Sola? The universe has given you all the time. But you did nothing.”

You groaned, throwing your head back as a realization hit you. “Fuck, Gyu, I just—I just realized. Is it right that we’re here? Was it the right decision to come here? My mom’s gonna be so mad once she finds out I’m in La Union.”

“It’s all you. You’re a raging masochist,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Anyway. Let’s just play a game. Let’s enumerate all the things you did with Jungkook. Those are seven years worth of memories, Sola. Game?”

“Game.”

“What year did you first meet Jungkook?”

A smile immediately creeped up on your face. “2017.”

Mingyu waved his hand at you. “Wow! You can do math! But I just thought of something—instead of just general memories. Let’s make them specific. Let’s list down all the stupid things you did for Jungkook for seven years.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” you let out a scoff, drinking your beer.

“What? Now you can’t remember?” he challenged.

You clicked your tongue. “Fine, you stupid bitch. Ask away.”

Mingyu grinned. “2018.”

You hummed before saying, “Jungkook was heartbroken that year. I was back at home and he was at UP. But I rushed into the city to be there for him. I remember because I was supposed to attend this baptism with my parents but I snuck out and got an earful from my mother the next day. I was completely hungover too because Jungkook and I went bar hopping the entire night.”

“Jesus Christ, Sola.”

“Don’t judge me. It was my decision, okay?”

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Okay. 2019.”

You stared at Mingyu, laughing as you recalled the memory. “2019. Me and Jungkook walked from UP to Aurora Boulevard just to tell me how Song Areum became his girlfriend.”

He shook his head. “2020.”

“2020—he was sick. I had an exam that day, but I quickly answered it so I could buy him his favorite, Tapsilog from Tapsi ni Vivian, before it ran out ‘cos it runs out quickly, right?” Mingyu nodded. You licked your lower lip then let out a small laugh. “But when I got to his dorm room, his roommate already told me Areum brought him to the university hospital. And I failed my exam ‘cos I didn’t answer the back part.”

“2021, go!”

“I loved him for four years now and counting. Is that good enough?”

“Okay. I’ll accept it. 2022?”

“2022—I��ve been in love with him for five fucking years already, fucking shit!” you exclaimed, feeling the alcohol in you boosting your confidence.

“Okay. We’re in the last year, girl. What about in 2023? What was the stupid thing you did for Jungkook last year?”

You gulped. “I’m two years delayed.”

Mingyu exhaled deeply. A moment of silence settled between the two of you. Then, she asked, “Sola, it all boils down to this: when will you end this?”

You sat up straight, taking a deep breath. “You mean when will I stop with my foolishness?” Mingyu nodded. You purse your lips. “Maybe when I’m done with UP. When I’m done with UP, I’ll graduate from everything—including him. Especially him.”

When you got back to your shared room with Jungkook and Mingyu, you were already tipsy. You almost fell face flat on the floor when you opened the door, feeling lightheaded, but luckily, your best friend was there to catch you.

“You’re drunk, Sola,” Jungkook chuckled deeply. You could smell his expensive cologne—the one you bought for him for his birthday last year and it brought a huge grin on your face, knowing he wore it. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“I’m fine, Guk. I’m not that drunk. But I do need to sit down,” you said followed by a set of giggles as you let Jungkook walk you to the bed you shared with Mingyu, and then you threw yourself on it, back against the mattress, arms spread like an eagle.

Jungkook sat down beside you. “Are you still mad at me?”

The question seemed to sober you up instantly. The truth was—you could never stay mad at him. For anything. Sometimes, you’d think he could do the most painful and hurtful thing to you, deliberately, and you would still forgive him even if he wouldn’t apologize.

“I wasn’t mad. I was just… I just wished you would’ve told me the real reason why you wanted to come here,” you replied softly, biting your lower lip.

“Would you have come? If I told you I wanted to go here because my ex wanted to reconnect—would you have come?” Jungkook matched your tone, looking over his shoulder to look at you.

Instinctively, your eyes also darted towards his. The lights in the room were dim, only the lamp, the light coming beneath the bathroom door, and the moonlight outside illuminated the room. Jungkook looked especially beautiful in the dim light—long black wavy hair all messy from his habit of running his fingers through it, hooded eyes staring at you like he was memorizing every inch of you, the gentleness of his features made him look like an angel in this light.

But then you’d see his dozens of piercings in his ears, eyebrow, and lower lip; his tattooed arm and hand, and the way he looked sexy as hell with his thin white long sleeved, sleeves rolled up to his elbow, and his white beach shorts that hugged his strong muscular thighs, and you’d realize he was more of a Greek god than an angel.

“I’ll go wherever you go,” you told him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You know that.”

Jungkook lied down beside you and you felt your heartbeat racing. His tattooed arm was brushing against yours. His head was tilted, close to yours.

“Will you go with me to the moon?” he asked.

A small smile ghosted on your lips. “I will, Guk.”

“How about Saturn?”

“I’ll be with you there, too.”

“Law school?”

You turned your head to him. He was already looking at you. “Law school? Why?”

He brushed the hair on your face aside with his fingers, making you tense. But you kept your composure. “I passed UP LAE.”

“But,” you began. “What about film? I thought you didn’t wanna become a lawyer like your parents.”

Jungkook looked at the ceiling. “It’s not that bad. Being a lawyer. Besides, I like studying.”

“You’ve always wanted to become a director, though.”

“I’m not good enough for it,” Jungkook scoffed. “All my batchmates are already directing their films and showing them at festivals here and abroad—yet here I am. Still here.”

You turned on your side, propping your elbow to support your head as you looked at your best friend. It was rare for Jungkook to open up. Even to you. He was always someone who kept all his innermost thoughts and feelings to himself. In the seven years you’d known him, it still felt like there was a wall around him that you never managed to climb on or punch through. For seven years, it felt like you simultaneously knew everything and nothing about your best friend.

“It’s not the end of the road, Jungkook. So what if they’re showing their films at festivals? You can do it too. At your own pace, in your own time,” you said. You wanted to reach for his face, to make him look at you, but you were scared. “You’re a great filmmaker, Guk. The best direk ever.”

He looked at you once again. “You’re drunk, Yu Sola. Go to sleep.”

He sat up, carrying your legs over the bed. You let out a groan. “I’m not drunk, Jeon Jungkook. Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” he asked, chuckling.

“You always cut the conversation when you’re beginning to open up. You always clamp up, Guk. I wish you didn’t do that. I’m your—,” you bit the inside of your lower lip. What right did I have to demand him to open up to me? “I’m your best friend.”

“I don’t clamp up. I just have nothing else to say,” your best friend replied with a shrug, fixing his hair as he looked in the mirror across from your bed. “Go to sleep. You’ll get a massive headache tomorrow. I’m just going to meet with Areum and her friends.”

Then, you blurted it out. It just happened. You didn’t even know how. You always had this grand idea in your mind to do it after the graduation ceremony, that way, you could immediately leave. That way, you didn’t have to see him all the time. You would have enough time to move on and move forward in your life.

But nothing in life truly went according to plan.

“I love you, Jungkook,” you confessed. Your heart felt heavy and you sat up, head hanging low as you picked on your nails. Tears were beginning to form in your eyes. “I’ve loved you for seven years now.”

And you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. Then, moments later, you felt your hands being taken away from your face. You lifted your head and saw Jungkook kneeling in front of you, holding your hands. He let one go to wipe away the tears on your face, to tuck your hair behind your ear.

And then, ever so slowly, Jungkook leaned in and kissed you softly. A tear rolled down your cheek. His lips were soft while yours were chapped and wet from your tears, but he didn’t seem to mind. You were still in shock. This was not the response you expected. Not even in your wildest dreams but it was happening.

Jungkook held your face, tilting his head as he continued to kiss you more—only this time with more need and passion. Your body reacted. You began to reciprocate his kisses, hands wrapping around his wrists. He tasted of toothpaste and mouthwash.

He pushed you onto the bed, one hand remaining on your face while the other held your waist. Your fingers curled the ends of his hair. You could feel his growing member on your stomach and feeling it was enough to make your cunt wet. His lips then traveled on your jaw, down to your neck. You were breathing heavily as he nibbled on your sensitive skin, making a soft moan escape your lips.

His hand made its way under your shirt and your breath hitched, causing Jungkook to lift his head from your neck, and look you in the eyes.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he smiled, making your heart skip a beat. “Is it okay if I take this off now?”

“I—,” you were at a loss for words. Was this really happening? It seemed too good to be true. But it was happening and you wanted it more than anything else. “Okay. Yes, you can.”

Jungkook peeled your shirt off, exposing your naked chest. You didn’t wear bras; found it too much of a hassle and you always hated the feeling. Instead, you wore nipple tapes.

“What are these, Sola?” Jungkook asked with a chuckle, making your cheeks heat up.

“They’re nipple tapes, you dumb ass,” you replied, smacking his arm lightly.

“Okay. Do I just take them off, like, tape?”

He was adorably cute. “Yes, you just take them off like tape.”

And so he did just that. The coolness of the room and your arousal instantly perked your nipples. Jungkook took your breasts in his hands, massaging and squeezing them, making you arch your back ever so slightly. Then, he dipped his head, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth while remaining to massage the other.

The sensation was simply divine. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol in your system, your feelings for your best friend, or just Jungkook in general that made you feel so good at that moment. Your hands traced the outline of his toned biceps through his thin polo.

You were so wet and when Jungkook began to grind his hard cock against your clothed cunt, you felt another wave of wetness. You wanted him—all of him—and so you began to rock your hips against him, making him release a moan.

He lifted his head, staring at you with those doe eyes you have loved for seven years. “Are you sure?”

Those three words held so much. Once you crossed the line, there was no going back, and both of you knew that.

“I’m sure. I want this, Guk. I want you.”

That was all he needed to hear to make love to you the whole night. Once both of you came, Jungkook laid beside you, chest heaving. For a while, the both of you lay in silence.

“Will you be here in the morning?” you asked, turning your head on the pillow to face him.

He did the same. “I will,” he promised. “Go to sleep now, Sola.”

But he wasn’t.

When you woke up the next day, the other side of the bed was empty. You sat up, burying your face in your hands. What the hell have I done? What the hell have we done?

You left the bed, entering the bathroom, and proceeding to take a shower. In there, you cried, because nothing was going to be the same after last night. You couldn’t blame it all on Jungkook either. You also made it happen. You desperately wished it was just a dream—another wet dream you had of your best friend—but the traces of his cum were still on your inner thigh.

It happened. There was no going back. Everything was going to be different now and most of all, you didn’t know if you still had your best friend.

When you finished showering and getting dressed, you made your way down to the beach. You had texted Mingyu while getting dressed and he told you he was there with the chinito you saw him with, Wonwoo. Arriving at the beach, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket, about to text the honey-skinned med student when you saw Jungkook with Areum in the water, his strong arms that held you throughout the night, now wrapped around her waist. Fits of giggles escaped her lips as Jungkook wrestled with her in the water, a huge grin on his handsome face.

Your heart shattered.

You quickly looked away, a fresh set of tears forming in your eyes. As you were about to turn away, you heard Mingyu’s familiar voice which caused you to stop on your tracks.

“Sola, hey, there you—what’s wrong?” The concern in his voice was palpable. You felt his arm around your shoulder as he pulled you closer to him.

“I—I finally told him, Gyu,” you said, taking in a sharp shaky breath. “I finally told him.”

Mingyu didn’t ask for more details. He knew. He led you back to your room, promising Wonwoo to text him later. Once you were back, you just cried on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything and neither did you. He just let you be until the tears finally stopped.

“I’m sorry I pulled you away from Wonwoo. He seems like a nice guy,” you said after a while, voice raspy from all the crying.

“It’s fine. We’ll be seeing each other often anyway,” Mingyu shared.

You looked at him, surprised. “Really?”

Your friend nodded, laughing to himself. “You know, all those times I teased you about your being a hopeless romantic and believing in love—I think it’s backfiring on me now with Wonwoo.”

“You love him?” you asked.

“I don’t know, Sola. But I know what I feel for him is different,” he answered. “It’s terrifying. How quickly someone can change your perspective on something.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“What’s your plan now?” Mingyu asked.

You sighed deeply. “I think I’m going to head back. My graduation is tomorrow anyway. Do you mind booking the bus ride home?”

“I’m staying here, Sola. I—I want to be with Wonwoo more,” Mingyu confessed, smiling at you apologetically.

“Gyu…”

“Please be a friend to me now, Sola.”

You pressed your lips tightly. Then, you nodded. You wanted your friend to be happy.

“I’m gonna pack now,” you announced.

“Okay. Just text me if you need anything,” Mingyu gave you a hug and kiss on top of your head. “I want you to know I’m proud of you, Sola.”

Once Mingyu left, you began to pack. You didn’t bring a lot of clothes, but you were still biding your time. A part of you didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay here and never graduate. But that illusion was quickly broken when you saw your mom’s contact flashing on your phone screen.

You sucked your teeth before answering, “Hi mom.”

“Sola? Where the hell are you? Why haven’t you been answering my texts? Your graduation is tomorrow. Everyone is looking forward to it!” she exclaimed frantically.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m in La Union with Jungkook and—,”

“What the hell are you doing in La Union?! You better get back instantly, Sola. I’m not kidding. If you don’t graduate now, I really don’t know what I’m gonna do. It’s been seven years! Please let me graduate too.”

“I’m already packing and I’ll catch the bus home soon. I just—Mom, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it in time for the ceremony ‘cos—,”

Your phone was suddenly snatched from your grip. You looked up and saw Jungkook standing beside you.

“Hey tita, it’s Jungkook. Yes. Don’t worry. I’ll take her home. She’ll make it in time. Yes. We’ll be home before the ceremony, tita. Okay. Bye.”

He ended the call and sat down on the bed across from you, handing you your phone back. You grabbed it from him. “You don’t have to take me home.”

“I already promised tita I will,” he answered.

“You didn’t have to,” you muttered, folding your shirt.

Silence. Jungkook was just staring at you the entire time as you folded your clothes and packed them inside your bag. Then, he said those two words.

“I’m sorry.”

You bit the inside of your lower lip. What was he exactly for? For having sex with you? For spending the night with you? For not feeling the same way as you? All of the above?

As if reading your thoughts, he added, “For everything.”

You nodded. “You don’t have to apologize for anything,” you told him. “It’s not your fault you don’t love me the same way.” But why did you kiss me? Why did you make love to me?

Jungkook lowered his head. You zipped your bag. “Let’s go. I still have a graduation to chase.”

“What’s this?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed when you saw Areum standing beside Jungkook’s car with her luggage and bag.

“I’ll drop Areum on the way,” Jungkook announced, grabbing her luggage and putting it at the back of his car.

You pressed your lips in a line. “Fine.” You stepped into the back passenger seat, quickly grabbing your phone and earphones from your bag, and plugging it in.

Lowering yourself on the seat, you rested your head against the window as Areum stepped into the passenger seat while Jungkook sat on the driver’s seat. You caught him glancing at you from the corner of your eyes, but you didn’t look back. Instead, you turned the volume up. Moments later, he began to drive.

You decided to sleep the entire ride. However, when you woke up, you immediately realized Jungkook wasn’t driving in your hometown. “Where are we?” you asked, taking one of your earphones off.

“I’m dropping Areum first,” Jungkook replied.

You frowned. “I’m the one chasing a graduation, remember?”

“Shh, just go back to sleep. Here,” he threw something at you—your favorite candy, Butterball, landing on your lap.

You grabbed it, tempted to eat it, but you threw it back at him and went back to sleep. By the time you woke up again, you were at Areum’s house. She turned to look at you, smiling.

She was really beautiful and kind. You began to feel guilty for hating her so much the entire time. “Congrats on your graduation, Sola. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Thanks Areum.”

After Jungkook walked her to her door, he came back to the car. “What are you doing there? Come here,” he said, patting the passenger seat.

“I’m fine here,” you replied.

“Sola, come on. Please? I drive better with you beside me.”

For the rest of the ride to your home, you sat beside Jungkook. Unlike before, where your car rides were filled with music and random conversations, tonight it was silent. You didn’t plug your phone into his stereo and you kept your eyes closed the whole time, listening to your music. Once in a while, Jungkook would try to make small talk, but you would only give him short replies, then went back to sleeping.

When you arrived at your family house, you stayed with Jungkook outside for a bit, both leaning against his car.

“It’s your graduation in four hours.”

“Are you not going to come to yours?”

“I don’t see the point,” Jungkook replied.

You nodded and pushed yourself off his car. “I’ll head inside. Thanks for the ride, Jungkook.”

He grabbed your arm before you entered the gate. You stared into his eyes. You couldn’t quite place what held them right now. Maybe you never really knew Jeon Jungkook after all this time.

“I’m sorry, Sola.”

“Why do you keep saying sorry? I told you—it’s not your fault and I’m fine. I’m over it now. See you around, Jungkook.”

You head back inside. Graduation was in four hours.

You wore a traditional Filipiniana dress, a pair of white heels that were already scraping the skin at the back of your feet, your mother’s pearls, and your sablay when your name was called. You came up on the stage with your excited mother, shook hands with your Dean, and finally grabbed your diploma. You always imagined graduation to be something so spectacular, but the moment you received the piece of paper that confirmed you had, indeed, graduated—you just felt the same.

After the ceremony, you went back to your house where almost all your relatives from your mother’s side were waiting for you. A tarpaulin with your graduation picture and the words, “Congratulations Yu Sola!” printed on it and hung outside your gate. You greeted everyone on your way, telling them thanks, before retreating in your room to change out of your dress and into more comfortable clothes.

While you were slipping on your shirt, your phone buzzed on your nightstand. When you grabbed it, you saw Jungkook’s message on the lockscreen.

Let’s go, it said.

You knew it meant one thing: a beer and butterball at Route 96. There was still a part of you that wanted to go because you always went when you received a message like that from Jungkook. It was always a yes when it came to him. But now that you confessed, something shifted, whether he admitted to it himself or not.

So, you put your phone in your pocket, and went down. But as you do so, you felt your phone vibrate again. You pulled it out of your pocket and Jungkook texted you another message.

Please? One for the road. I’m outside.

You bit your lower lip. Then, you made your way out. There, you saw Jungkook wearing his barong and sablay, leaning against his car like hours ago. He smiled as soon as he saw you come out.

“You still have it,” he pointed to your shirt.

You looked down on it and realized you had picked his shirt of all things. It wasn’t anything special; just something he bought at a boutique. But it meant a lot to you because he gave it to you after you spilled beer on your shirt years ago.

“You attended your ceremony?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. He nodded. “I thought you didn’t see the point.”

“I changed my mind.”

You wished you were just as quick in having a change of heart.

“One for the road?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “One for the road.”

“Shit, I forgot it’s Sunday. It’s closed,” Jungkook sighed, seeing the steel gate at Route 96.

“It’s fine. Let’s just go,” you told him, grabbing the beer he bought beforehand and making your way up to the bar. Jungkook followed behind.

You both leaned in the railing before you, beer in hands. Another silence.

You couldn’t believe this was the culmination of the seven years you spent loving Jeon Jungkook. You thought, after confessing, you would never speak again. He’d distance himself from you but here you were—having a beer with him at your favorite place in the world. You wished you knew what was going on in his mind right now. You wished you could dissect his mind and learn every thought he had ever since you confessed.

Because you never really knew Jeon Jungkook. You were just so in love with him and idealized who he was over the last seven years. Suddenly, all the stupid memories you shared with Mingyu flashed in your mind and made you laugh.

“What’s funny?” Jungkook asked, chuckling.

You shook your head, drinking your beer. “Nothing.”

He nudged your side. “Come on, share it.”

You took a deep breath and for the first time, you looked at Jeon Jungkook and saw him for who he was; not the man you have loved for the past seven years.

“I graduated, finally.”

↪˚ author’s note: if you want to donate to me via kofi or gcash <33 i would appreciate it a lot. thank you & see you in more fics later on.

↪˚ permanent taglist: @whoa-jo @kookieandjoonberries

#jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fics #bts x reader #bts x oc #bts fanfic #bts fics #jungkook filo au #bts filo au #jungkook smut

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paulodebargelove · 2 years

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#Stand Up #When Love Calls #Send For Me #Secret Lovers #Always #Masterpiece #I Like Dreaming #Penny For Your Thoughts #I Remember You #My Best Friend #June 30 #1978 - Atlantic Starr releases his first album #It's been over four decades since they first hit the charts #and they've been doing their thing ever since. Although they never achieved supergroup status #Atlantic Starr was one of the most consistently successful - and underrated - soul bands of the '80s and early '90s #with a basket full of memorable songs that still sound great today. And the world was introduced to them on this day in 1978 when the band #Like many groups formed in the mid-1970s #Atlantic Starr was influenced by independent funk bands like Earth Wind & Fire and Kool & the Gang #and the massive initial lineup #consisting of vocalist Sharon Bryant and musicians Cliff Archer #Porter Carroll #Joseph Phillips #Damon Rentie #William Sudderth and brothers Wayne #David and Jonathan Lewis reflected the times.#The group #formerly called Newban #signed to A&M Records - on the condition that they change their name - and in 1978 released their debut under the name Atlantic Starr #working with famed Philly guitarist Bobbi Eli. They achieved an R&B hit with and had some success on the Pop and Soul album char

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sseastar · 2 months

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✶ meet me at the net ; riize.

info. riize ot7 + reader. fluff. platonic mostly but can be interpreted as more. description. riize as the volleyball team you’re the team manager for. word count. 2.7k warnings. volleyball-sustained bruises (sohee be careful pls). listen to. orange by spyair.

as always, please leave feedback and reblog with feedback and tags as it’s the most important thing when it comes to motivating writers on here! without feedback, i have less motivation to keep writing so pls pls pls do not just like and empty reblog! it gets very draining and unmotivating to see when that happens!

쇼타로 、OSAKI SHOTARO !

position: setter, team captain.

the surprisingly powerful setter that many people usually look over. because of his pure personality, not many fear shotaro, an insanely quick witted player who seems to know the opponent’s weakness even at the last second. hits when people expect him to set someone up, dinks when people expect him to spike, because of this is such a powerful asset to their team. always does the unexpected even when players are already aware of his playing style and yet always has something up his sleeve. his bubbly personality disappears as soon as he steps onto the court. but he doesn’t turn into a huge, tall, intimidating opponent. instead, he’s quiet and swift and quick and somehow that’s even more terrifying to play against. despite being calm and stable on the court, when he’s on the sidelines with the others, he’s hyping everyone up with loud cheers - that’s when his bright personality shows and the opposing team is always so confused - especially since they’ve only ever seen him in the zone.

shotaro dotes on his teammates, always making sure they’re eating enough between matches and drinking enough water. “no wonbin, you cannot survive off of gatorade chews the whole day.” dotes on you as well, making sure you have enough space to sit on the bench if he ever gets subbed out and pushes the ball cart so you don’t have to when you move courts for a new match. will always find you between matches to help set up everyone’s lunches and folding chairs and helps you calm down the others if they’re being too rowdy and chaotic and just overall tries to make your job as the team manager easier. loves to braid your hair to calm himself down between matches, and asks if you can hold the earrings he always forgets he can’t wear during games.

은석 、SONG EUNSEOK !

position: opposite hitter

the most underrated hitter on the team just because of his position. because many focus on outside hitters, his skills are sometimes overlooked. yet when eunseok gets the chance to showcase them, he leaves everyone absolutely speechless with how well he is able to execute the quick back-sets shotaro sends him. sometimes, people don’t understand where he came from, seemingly popping out of nowhere on the court. people are further shocked at how good he is at line shots and cross shots, underestimating his quick thinking, especially with his high vertical that allows him the easily see the open gaps in their opponents’ set up. eunseok is quick on his feet, and never hesitates to dive to save the ball that nears the floor. has no problem with jousting up at the net and is always amazing at getting the ball out of it. he’s known for his powerful topspin jump serve as well, one that he’s definitely received aces for. he’s a quiet player, often only shouting when needed and quietly celebrating in the center while his teammates are the ones shouting. is not easily affected by intimidating players on the other team.

eunseok takes care of the team quietly. you’ve noticed that he’s the one picking up items that the others might forget, or quietly placing water bottles he had refilled back near the bench. he drapes towels on the others’ necks without a word, and yet he masks his caring ways under his quick retorts and unbothered personality. not that anyone never noticed - you along with everyone on the team knows of his considerate, caring nature. sure, he loves to tease you between or even during matches as he sees how much more stressed you are than the actual players and their coach, but that doesn’t nullify all his small acts of service for everyone. eunseok is often found standing at your side between matches, usually because he finds your presence calming before a big game. sometimes, you wake up with his warm up jacket covering you on the drive to the tournament venue in the early morning. seemingly the one to always let you borrow something of his and will have a knowing smug look on his face when he overhears someone compliment you for it, only to say “yeah, i agree,” without disclosing the fact that it’s his.

성찬 、JUNG SUNGCHAN !

position: middle blocker

with his height, sungchan was easily positioned as the middle blocker that would switch out for sohee, their libero. however, it is not only his height that catches people’s attention, nor his extremely handsome face that has onlookers' heads turning. sungchan is smart, and can easily read the opposing team’s next moves. hits rarely get past him, and when they do, he makes sure that instead of allowing the ball to drop straight through his hands to the floor, he makes sure to angle himself in a position that gives the defensive specialists a perfect angle to bump the ball back up. he knows how to turn a hard hit into an opportunity for their team. sungchan is a wall when it comes to blocking, and his height only adds to his wit and thinking as he plays in the front row. not only is sungchan and extremely powerfully blocker, but his long history of playing with shotaro allows him to hit the most unstoppable spikes. no one ever seems to know what these two have planned up their sleeve, not even their own team. but it always works.

sungchan is a ball of energy. he reminds you of a big puppy with the way he’s always hyping the team up, making sure to reassure them when the team happens to be stuck in a rut. he’s probably one of the loudest on the court. he refuses to let the others think badly about their plays, shutting down any possible thoughts of blaming themselves for losing a set or game. his bright energy catches everyone’s attention, and many people seem to fall for him. but sungchan sticks to your side between matches, making sure you always have everything you need and are eating enough while you make sure the team eats enough because “you need to take care of yourself too.” he always tries to gives up his seat for others, especially you, but you insist that he has to rest for their next match. insists on helping you make sure the air pressure in each ball at practice is full just because he likes to spend time with you. before each hit during warm-ups at matches, he turns and points to you, only to laugh when you shake your head after he shouts, “this is for you!” then proceeds to completely miss the quick set shotaro had sent him.

원빈 、PARK WONBIN !

position: defensive specialist, setter

he’s quiet. that’s for sure, though he always seems to get the job done and more. wonbin is a reliable silent threat, and not many people pay attention to him especially since he’s in the back row acting as one of the defensive specialists. he doesn’t mind that his role is underrated because it doesn’t matter to him. he knows how important his role is in the back row, backing up sohee (his fellow defensive player) to dig whatever spike comes at him. he’s especially good with overhead passes and can even act as a setter if shotaro happens to get the first touch. he may be silent, but when wonbin is playing, the ball never touches the ground. he’s quick on his feet and always seems to play scrappy - pulling out tricks that no one seems to even think about. he can hit back row spikes, for sure, but he prefers not to. one thing that makes people fear him are his floater serves. although his aren’t flashy jump serves, his floaters always seem to change direction in the most unrealistic way, swerving past the players on the other side of the net.

wonbin is very similar to haikyuu’s kenma, often not taking care of himself. he seems to take care of the team before himself, even if he’s about to collapse from exhaustion from back to back matches. that’s where you (and shotaro) come in, doting on him to make sure he eats. he’ll only refuse the first few times, so you shove a plate of food into his hands and sit down in front of him to make sure he eats. he’s shy as well, preferring to stick to you to hover his face over your shoulder as his teammates socialize with other teams. however wonbin has another side to him that only the team knows, one where he gets really crazy during practice and ends up busting out the most out of pocket sentences that have the whole team cracking up. it’s one of your favorite moments when wonbin seems to cut tension after losing a match, or mentioning something everyone noticed about something they saw during the day but never brought up because they were too embarrassed to. it has everyone laughing comfortably hysterically, because of course wonbin, the reserved one, is the one to bring it up unexpectedly.

승한 、HONG SEUNGHAN !

position: defensive specialist, opposite hitter, setter

the bright, positive player who seems to bring energy to a match on both sides of the court. he’s always talking despite his introverted personality, and he views it one of his strengths despite being an analytical defensive player on the court. he loves hitting back row, and kind of hates that he rarely gets to do it, but loves to fulfill any role that the team needs. seunghan has exceptional ball control, seemingly able to pass any serve that comes at him regardless of the skill level. he angles it so perfectly to shotaro, allowing the rest of the team to execute a perfectly-set up attack, and that alone has him satisfied. at first, he didn’t think he had an important role, but you had made him realize that defense is just as important if not more, than offense. seunghan can read dinks versus spikes very well, and his agility allows him to get to the ball quick, making him a valuable asset to the back row. seunghan also always encourages his teammates whether they earned a point or made a mistake, never allowing them to even think about blaming themselves.

the most excited, seunghan is the mood maker of the team. he’s the one to bring the most energy to matches, always extremely hyped up and bringing a portable speaker everywhere. seunghan loves to joke around and keeps up with a lot of the trends, being the one to convince you to create a team social media account. he practically runs it with the way he always seems to steal your phone to film the others and themselves between matches, goofing off and having fun. he’s the one to suggest filming one of those videos where the team crowds around the front camera from above, throwing balls, shoes, knee pads, whatever above their head and seeing who gets hit. he can get bummed out if he doesn’t do well, and at these times he finds you, clinging to you during lunch. you’ll be sitting on a bench with your plate out, and he’ll just be at your legs with his head in your lap or leaning against your knees. this is when his introverted personality shines through, and the team does everything to get their mood maker back to his best. after all, it’s what seunghan always does for them.

소희 、LEE SOHEE !

position: libero

even the slight angle of a setter’s wrist allows him to know who the setter is setting to, and sohee quickly adjusts himself to where that hitter had hit last. his brain is almost a computer with how much information he remembers: where the hitters tend to send their ball, how each player serves, which player on the other team seems to have a weakness they can use to their advantage. if sohee has a suggestion in a play, the others immediately follow because it always works. because of his cute aura and the reduced spotlight on back row players, no one expects him to be the mastermind behind the intense plays of the team. and that’s what makes it work. sohee is a secret weapon, because not only is he extremely meticulous, but he is not afraid to get on the floor to dig a hit. he refuses to let a ball drop without even trying for it, and if it does, punishes himself by diving post-play because he should’ve done it to get the ball in the first place. nevertheless, it’s rare for that to happen because sohee reads hitters and setters perfectly. sohee will not hesitate to run across the court to send the ball back over the net on the last touch if he needs to, and you can’t even count the amount of times you’d had to help him ice his shins after crashing into the bleachers to save a ball.

sohee is the team’s charger. everyone clings to him because just being around him is healing. and although he might not be used to the affection and all the skinship, he wills himself to get used to it because he knows how much it helps the team. he happily helps you with your managing duties, especially when you try to find recordings of the teams they’ll be playing against, helping you and their coach analyze it and relaying the information to shotaro. sometimes follows you like a duckling, both at tournaments or at practice, and is one to initiate dodgeball games with the volleyball at the end of practice, usually by throwing a ball in the air which “accidentally” hits anton while he sips on some water. always helps you set up the net for training too, making sure you don’t drop the heavy poles or fall from the post where the referees usually stand.

앤톤 、LEE CHANYOUNG !

position: outside hitter

if anything, he and sungchan are the most feared on the team, primarily due to their large stature. despite his soft spoken nature, anton is one of the physically strongest players on the team, having the hardest hits to pass. that makes him so qualified for being an outside hitter because his spikes often push past the blocks of the other team. he’s still a little new to jousting up at the top of the net, but sungchan’s been teaching him well - how to not feel bad for pushing against the opponents’ hands and how to make sure to be ready for the ball to drop back onto their side. anton was a newcomer to the team but advanced quickly, earning such an important offensive position early into his athletic career. he’s also a quiet player and had trouble calling for the ball at first, but as soon as he experienced the satisfaction of hitting such a perfectly executed spike that even sohee couldn’t pass during practice, he stopped hesitating to call shotaro to set him up. he’s still learning but he learns fast, much to the dismay of opposing teams, especially with his strong jump serve.

as the youngest, the team looks to dote on anton a lot. despite being used to being an older brother, he allows the team to cling to him as long as he can to you. he tries his best not to get in the way and just wants to make sure everything runs smoothly, refusing to let any disputes linger between the team by gently speaking up to try to clear the air. it’s rare that he has to do that, but the team usually calms down once they realize that anton’s the one who’s confronting the issue. anton is another to cling to you when socializing with other teams, though if he gets comfortable enough with the other players he’ll leave you with wonbin at your side. he also follows you around like a duckling, always asking if there’s anything he can do to help with your managing duties and always offering to help you set up for practice.

⌕. author’s note ; currently inspired by my long-lasting haikyuu hyperfixation and my disappointment when i found out they’re squeezing the rest of the manga into a movie instead of more seasons. this is coming from my experience playing volleyball for a good number of years (although keep in mind it’s been while!)

ꗃ. taglist ; @enhacolor @soobin-chois @koishua @chrysbibi

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whenyourbirdisbroken · 3 months

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🎵🎸🎹 music ask game 🎵🎸🎹

what is your favourite song of all time?

what is your go-to karaoke song?

if you were to get lyrics tattooed on you, which would they be? (or tell about what you already have!)

if you were to get a non-lyrics music tattoo, what would it be? (or tell about one you already have!)

is there a song that always makes you cry, no matter what? what is it?

is there/what is a song that you secretly love but you hate to admit it?

is there/what is a song that always makes you think of your parents?

what do you think is the best song to play during sexy times?

who are your top three all time favourite bands or artists?

what band were you obsessed with as a child? do you still like them?

what is the best live music show you've ever been to?

who is a band or artist that you've never seen that you're dying to see?

what's an album cover that you would frame and put up in your house?

do you have any music related home decorations?

what is a song you are obsessed with at the moment?

is there/what is a song that has been ruined for you by an ex or a former crush/situationship/relationship?

what song do you listen to if you need to pump yourself up to do something difficult?

what's a song that you absolutely cannot help dancing to?

what do you think is the greatest love song of all time?

do you have any band t-shirts or other clothing items and what are they??

what is the best album of all time?

what band do you think has the best or most interesting story? (toxic breakup, bandmates in love, etc)

Do you create your own playlists? If so, how many do you have?

How many hours a day would you say you spend listening to music?

Is there any activity (walking, housework, studying, etc) that you cannot do without music?

Is there/what is a song that you always associate with a movie or tv show?

which musical artist's wardrobe would you like to steal for your own?

Most underrated band or artist?

Most overrated band or artist?

Do you sing along to songs in the car? In the shower? other places?

#hello please play my music ask game #let's talk about music!#ask game #music ask game #🎵🎸🎹 🎵🎸🎹

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hotvintagepoll · 9 days

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Propaganda

Glynis Johns (Mary Poppins, The Court Jester)—LISTEN, I'd let that woman's voice with all its gravely hoarseness (positive) wash over me all goddamn day, but if that's not enough she managed to play the straight woman to Danny Kaye's jester, all with her cleavage so plunging it might as well have been catapulted into the ocean right after Basil Rathbone

Eartha Kitt (Anna Lucasta, St. Louis Blues)—My friend and I have a saying: NOBODY is Eartha Kitt. A thousand have tried, and they've all come up empty and will continue to do so. Everyone knows her for something: from "Santa Baby" to Yzma in Emperor's New Groove to Catwoman to making Lady Bird Johnson cry for the Vietnam War. She was a master of comedy and sex, an extremely vocal activist, and she aged like fine wine... I honestly don't know what I can say about her that hasn't already been said, so I'll stick to linking all my propaganda. Like what else do you want from me. She was iconic at everything she ever did. Literally name another. How can anyone even think of her and not want to absolutely drown?

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Glynis Johns:

She walks the line between sexy and cute. Her best role for me is in "The Court Jester as Maid Jean. She's fantastic as the soft but tough captain of the outlaw band and she looks stunning in every gown she wears throughout the film. And of course we can't forget her iconic turn as the suffragette mother, Mrs. Banks, in Mary Poppins! Also shoutout to her distinctive and beautiful voice, kind of smoky and husky. Extremely hot and set her apart from many of her peers."

"She was amazing in Mary Poppins (the Suffragette song is severely underrated) and apparently she was Welsh? National pride! And she advocated for arts funding in Wales, which is very cool. Also, she died recently (RIP) making her one of the last survivors of the Golden Age of Hollywood, according to Wikipedia. Also also, she just has a cheeky energy I like? And her eyes are beautiful!"

"She had this wonderful wit and charm to her no matter the role and the most distinctive, striking voice!"

"I mean, incredibly beautiful and talented, can do drama can do comedy. And she was a mermaid."

"Like Bette Davis she has eyes to die for. Unlike Bette Davis you felt comforted by them, even when she was batting her eyelashes at you. Would glady go to Downing Street with her and throw things at the Prime minister"

"Listen, listen. I was raised on Mary Poppins and "Votes for women! (step in time)" single-handedly taught me how to be a feminist. Also The Court Jester is one of my favourite movies of all time and she is UNBELIEVABLY gorgeous, charismatic, funny, and clever in it. She knocks several men out. Absolute icon."

"I love Glynis Johns. Most of the reason is The Court Jester where she's a sensible and capable foil to whatever what going on with Danny Kaye at the time. She was also the first star I based an OC on. An OC that I still have to this day! Anyway here have some YouTube links love u bye"

Mermaid clip:

Court Jester (sharing a bed trope):

youtube

Court Jester (seducing the king):

youtube

"VOTES FOR WOMEN! Well, votes for this woman. Please."

youtube

Eartha Kitt:

"A hot vintage woman who was not just known for her voice, beauty, poise, and presence, but also her unapologetic ways of speaking about how she was mistreated in the show business as a girl who grew up on cotton fields in South Carolina in the 1930s through the 1940s coming to Broadway first and then Hollywood."

"Have you watched her sing?? Have you seen her face?? Have you heard her talk?? How could you not fall instantly in love. She makes me incoherent with how hot she is."

"She can ACT she can SING she can speak FOUR LANGUAGES she is a GODDESS!!! Although she is (rightfully) remembered for her singing, TV appearances (Catwoman my beloved), and later film roles, her early appearances in film are no less impressive or noteworthy!! She’s an amazing actress with so much charisma in every role. She was also blacklisted from Hollywood for 10 years for criticizing the Johnson administration/Vietnam War, so. Iconic. Also Orson Welles apparently called her “the most exciting woman in the world.”

"She had such a stunning, remarkable appearance, like she could tear you to shreds with just a glance- but the most undeniable part of her hotness was her voice, and it makes sense that it's what most people nowadays know her for. Nothing encapsulates the sheer magnetism of her singing better than this clip of her and Nat King Cole in St. Louis Blues, she pops in at 2:49. Also I know it's post-1970 but her song that was cut from Emperor's New Groove is likely to make you feel Feelings."

Even with as racist as Hollywood was in the 1950s and 60s, Eartha Kitt STILL managed to have a thriving career. She also once had a threesome with Paul Newman and James Dean, and called out LBJ over the Vietnam War so hard that it made First Lady Johnson cry. Eartha Kitt was talented, sexy, and a total badass activist.

#eartha kitt #glynis johns #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 4

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prettyyyathieee · 9 months

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✧˖°.Michael Kaiser is your second love.✧˖°.

A/n : you know what? I think second loves are so underrated. I like second loves more than first loves. What they learned during the first will reflect on the next.

Warnings ⚠️: Curse words and uhhh...let's call it a detailed "hug" ...yea.

Just like most boys were, he wasn’t quite like the first one.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Unlike your first love, he didn’t have to hide anything.

There were no secret places nor subtle smiles directed at each other. He was loud in proclaiming his love for you, both in real life and online. He was gentle, gentle in the way he held you in his arms in front of his and your friends. Gentle in the way he holds your hand, swaying it back and forth, in public with no consequences.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Unlike your first love, He didn’t write you poems or sang songs about how passionately in love he was with you.

He was athletically-inclined. You had a special place in your closet for the jerseys he gave you. Every soccer game he had, he dedicated each point he scored to you. He was no lyricist but you swore, the way his eyes focused on you after every score, the way his lips turned into a cocky grin, the way his body automatically walks to you after the game, it was all the poetry you needed.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Unlike your first love, he was careful.

From the first bouquet of flowers to every bottle of wine he gave to your parents after a visit, he made sure to make time for you and give you reassurance whenever he came a little aggravated from soccer practice. He was careful with his words, careful with his gestures. He didn’t let you overthink about the girl in his dm’s nor did he let you worry about any other person who wanted his heart. He made sure to set a boundary that only you could ever cross.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Unlike your first love, he had much more to offer.

You didn’t have to share popsicles or just look around every store. You had to physically stop him from getting every piece of jewelry your eyes caught, being a rising student–athlete had its perks. He took you to gallant dates, spontaneous trips and brought you a little something new from his away games. He bought you “just because” flowers, “I thought it would look pretty on you” dresses and “you always told me you wanted something like this” knick-knacks. You let him comfort you after a bad grade, you let him convince you to stay the night during a pouring rain and make you meet his parents.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Unlike your first love, he knew what to do.

He didn’t leave you alone whenever you two had a heated argument. Didn’t let you walk out the door whenever he snapped because of his stress. His friends knew you as if they’ve known you forever after hearing Kaiser talk about you at every given opportunity.

Moreover, he knew to love you. How to give you kisses that leave you begging for more with a smile on your face. How to tease your tomato-flushed face after the teasing his or your friends gave. How to touch you like it was the last thing he’d do on earth. He knew how to appreciate every single detail about you, even the flaws.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Unlike your first love, you were no longer as innocent.

The touch– his touch that you were able to feel sent you zaps of electricity that sometimes hurt. The ghost of his hand on your hips, waist, shoulder– every body part he usually placed his hands on. You were greedy for his kisses, wanting to feel his warm lips on yours, wanting to swallow every single breath he puffed. There was nothing quite like roaming your hands over his upper body, watching him squirm and gulp looking a bit troubled, like a caged tiger trying to hold himself from pouncing. You loved that he felt the same as you or at least almost. You love watching his fangirls that were hiding in the bushes or in the stairwells clench their teeth in jealousy. You love how only you could make him feel this way.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Unlike your first love, you were more guarded.

You didn’t believe in his “Didn’t even hurt”, “It’s no big deal” or even “I just need to get used to it.” Whenever you both had a problem you would lock yourselves in a room, forcing each other to talk it out. When you see his lips wobble, that was your cue to hide him in your chest or neck. Acting like you can’t see or hear him let a few tears out. You knew when to talk to him or just let him bring all his emotions out. Whenever he acted too much of a jerk you knew how to make him listen or see reason. Being a fairly difficult person, you made sure to keep misunderstandings at a low. You took extra steps to make him know he was the only one for you.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Unlike your first love, you were more willing to try.

Foregoing your studies to hangout with him. Sneaking out of your bedroom window watching him catch you with ease. Staying in his room after sunsets and waiting for him at his practices. Ditching everything you were doing because he sent an “I miss you” text, after he did the same when you did. Sharing everything together. While he wasn’t your first love, he was surely a lot of your firsts.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Unlike your first love, you knew where you stood and when to do something.

You knew he had a life to get back to when he was with you. You knew as much as he did when he said “I want to stay like this forever” he meant it. And the feeling was mutual. Being late to things was always something he did on purpose, but now it was just because of unawareness.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Unlike your first love, you were deeply in love.

It wasn’t for the thrill or even the bragging rights. You fell in love with his flaws. How every single flaw of him makes him– well him. No matter how awful they were to experience or how much he hid them, you appreciated the way he rants about what angered him throughout the day. How he snubs every person that gets on his short and little nerves. How he didn’t have the patience for anything. You fell in love with the way he wasn’t afraid to show his bad side to anyone and did the same to you. It felt genuine, human even.

His flaws made you accept yours. His flaws allowed you to love him in every way. You didn’t fall for his heartwarming smiles, his random gentlemen acts or simply, his good looks. You fell in love with Michael Kaiser as a whole…

“Over there! It’s Michael Kaiser!” A crowd of younger students formed at the entrance of your cafeteria.

You looked on, curious but not wanting to join the stampede. Thanks to his height however, you managed to see him. His blonde hair dyed with streaks of blue, his eyes matching the color of his color and his ever-smooth smile. That was your first encounter with him.

It would have been the last as well, if only he didn’t catch your mesmerized stare. His face showed no reaction. But you’ve already been in love once to recognize that kind of stare. And you would be an idiot to pass it up.

You stood, bawling your clammy hands, walking towards the commotion. His gaze was locked on yours before moving to gently push the female students in his way until they cleared the path.

Towards you.

Finally, only space was in between both of you.

A hand was confidently reached out to you as a velvety voice interrupted the silence you were suddenly made aware of.

“...Hi. I’m Michael. Michael Kaiser…”

A smile crept before it turned to tip further on one side.

“Michael Kaiser…would you like a picture with me?” You asked, watching as his smile turned further and further up as if he was flirting.

“How about your number instead?”

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x y/n #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x female reader #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x y/n #athyathye♡

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sundrop-writes · 4 months

Text

Your First Kiss With Jason Todd

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary:

Jason always thought he hated you. He did hate you.

Until he didn't.

Until his love for you ruined him in ways he couldn't even imagine.

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader. Frenemies to Lovers. Pure Angst (Hurt, No Comfort). Set during Season 3.

Word Count: 8,200

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This fic is almost entirely angst - hurt, no comfort. This fic does not have a happy ending!!! So be warned of that before you enter here. Jason and the reader are described as ‘hating’ each other, but they are more like frenemies/annoyances - they have a playful banter (at the time, even they don’t know that they like arguing because it’s sexual tension and passion for each other); the reader is completely gender neutral - the only pronouns used for the reader are you/yours; this is mostly written from Jason’s POV (which is where most of the angst comes from); Jason describes himself as a ‘zombie’ or ‘half-alive’ - but he is fully alive and has all of his mental faculties, he is just freaked out about the fact that he was resurrected; the reader does not have any meta powers, but is described as being very good at combat (this does not denote the reader’s body type); mentions of sex and some sexual themes - but there is no outright smut and no detailed descriptions of sex; mentions of negative stereotypes surrounding frat boys/frat houses - including STDs and group sex (mentioned in a negative light); mentions of Jason masturbating (and thinking about the reader while doing it); mentions of Jason’s canon trauma (being kidnapped and tortured by Deathstroke, dropped off the building); mentions of Jason being killed by the Joker (and being ressurected by Crane); mentions of the reader mourning Jason’s death; mentions of drugs and drug addiction (based around the canon storyline of the anti-fear gas); mentions of Jason’s trauma surround his mother’s drug addiction; mentions of Jason killing Hank (as in the canon); the reader is kidnapped (by Crane or someone who works for Crane) and held hostage, and later rescued by Jason; somewhat graphic descriptions of violence (Jason beating up Crane, other background instances), gory descriptions of a death toward the end (mentions of acid burns and choking on non-breathable air); major character death - the reader character does die. Like I said - no happy ending. Sorry not sorry.

A/N: This is set during Season 3 - and this does feature spoilers for Season 3 if you haven't seen Titans before. So if you wanna watch the show spoiler free, definitely avoid this fic. I was imagining this to be set around episode 6 or episode 7, before Crane's plan to use the ice cream factory is taken down by the Titans, but obviously Jason breaking away from Crane's control so early goes against the canon - so there's that. Also, if you wanna pair some music with this for something truly heartbreaking, I would highly recommend the classic Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush, or the highly underrated Colorado Sunrise by 3OH!3 (the lyrics are way more depressing than people realize, and I love it as a whump song. oomf). I also feel like the song Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny would go so well with this fic, but in like - the most devastating way. I haven't written something this cruel since I wrote Ghosting and I had so much fun doing it. You can't leave me alone with whump for too long, I turn into a monster. I need to go back to smut again quickly lmao.

...

Jason Todd was in love with you.

It was something that he hated himself for. Actually, it was one of the most infuriating, devastating facts in the world. But it was true. You were someone who was so entirely amazing. You were beautiful - literally the hottest person Jason had ever met who wasn’t photoshopped or catered to be some unrealistic daydream. You were clever and smart and strong. You could kick anybody’s ass on any day of the week and still have enough energy left to tell them how much of an idiot they were and list all of the reasons why.

And you would definitely never love Jason back. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he could ever have someone like you.

So he kept all of that stupid, idiotic love to himself. It was a secret that he had sworn to die with - and technically, he already had.

Jason tried not to linger on the very fucked up, seemingly impossible fact that he had come back from the dead. And now he was existing as some weird, fucked up zombie thing - resurrected from having his skull caved in by the Joker to do Jonathan Crane’s bidding. This definitely wasn’t what Jason would have wanted out of a renewed life - but hey: when an Arkham prisoner gives you rotten lemons.

When Jason wasn’t beating down drug dealers, stealing money, or strapping bombs to people - when he was trying his hardest not to focus on the fact that he had died and he was now living some strange half-life, reliant on Crane’s drugs, he was thinking about you. He thought about you a lot.

He hadn’t come into contact with you since his strange foray back into the land of the living. That was probably for the best. He knew that you had freshly come back to Gotham, upon Dick’s request. Nightwing had called for backup from all the ex-Titans to help end Red Hood’s reign of terror. Jason wanted to stay as far away from you as possible.

Genuinely, he didn’t want you getting caught in the crossfire of whatever Crane was planning. He wished you had stayed out of Gotham, but he knew that you were too loyal, too good not to come to the aid of the Titans when they needed you. He couldn’t reveal himself to you just for a taste of nostalgia - one last argument before you sold him down the river for good. But fuck - he thought about you a lot.

When the two of you had first met, you were the last person he ever thought that he would surrender that stupid, soft label of love to. Even months into first knowing you - he would have said that he hated you. He would have told anybody that he found you to be the most annoying person on earth.

Your relationship used to be the worst kind of dance.

Every single time that Jason opened his mouth, you said something to contradict him. To a point, he believed that you didn’t even fully stand behind the things you said - you just enjoyed arguing against him. That you did it for sport. You used every single last bit of your time and energy to get under his skin. From mocking him to calling him a fuckboy to prodding at his grammar, poking holes in his points by smugly correcting him. He always found you to be the most infuriating person in any room. But it seemed that the more frustrated he got with you, the more cool headed you remained.

He tried to mock you back, and you shrugged it off. Every time he became visibly annoyed in your presence - you giggled. He wanted to strangle you.

And it was one fated day that he realized the line between heat fueled by frustration and heat fueled by lust truly weren’t that different.

…

“Jason! I thought I smelled you coming down the hall!”

Jason groaned when he heard you make this comment.

He thought that for once, he could have some peace to train alone - but it appeared that he would have no such luck. You were already in the training room, holding a long bo-staff as you ran some drills. Apparently, you were eager to exercise your mouth too - already whipping off clever insults the minute that Jason entered the room.

When all he could muster was a glare in your direction, you let out a giggle. His blood boiled.

“Between that god awful Axe body wash and that alcohol based aftershave that you like to drown yourself in, you smell like a walking frat house.” You continued, blabbering on even though Jason had made no efforts to engage you. At least not yet. “Just throw in some Busch Light and weed, and I might be able to catch gonorrhea just from the stench.”

That was the nerve that hooked Jason into the conversation. First of all - he smelled fucking delightful. He always made hygiene one of his personal priorities. He was absolutely not one of those guys with crusty, sweaty balls. And second of all - he was not one of those STD spreading manwhores. He was clean in all senses. He always used a condom.

“Sounds like you’ve got experience with that.” Jason quipped back.

He looked to you for some kind of reaction, some inkling that he had gotten under your skin even a fraction of the way that you did his. His movements were rough with annoyance as he began wrapping his knuckles with tape so he could have a few rounds with the heavy bag - mostly out of a need to pound out his frustration on something. He was getting too angered with your presence in the room and not wanting to snap and take it out on you. (He already had enough on his record with Bruce, and despite popular opinion - he was trying to improve.)

When you weren’t quick to respond, Jason continued.

“You used to letting frat boys all over you? You seem like the type of person who would enjoy a good, sloppy frat house train. Twenty guys, one after the other, none of them knowing your name, just because you’re so needy for a good fuck.”

Jason grinned, feeling like he had won this conversation with the essence of shock alone.

But no. As always, you remained cool. You grinned right back at him, stepping toward him, crowding into his personal space as you said your next words in a low, smooth voice.

“Sounds like you spend an awful lot of time picturing me running a train.” You smirked. “Is that why you’re always so late getting up in the morning? You wake up and the first thing you do is get a hand on your dick, imagining me getting fucked by a lineup of guys? Probably just wishing that one of them was you.”

Jason’s face fell flat.

You were so strikingly confident in your words that it made his stomach twist. Facing him down, speaking such filthy words without flinching - embarrassment and heat collided inside of him. Even more so with what you did next.

You put a hand out in front of your crotch, mimicking the motions of jacking off while you mocked him in a broken voice.

“Oh, oh fuck Y/N! Come on! Take my sloppy, frat house cock!”

You then mocked a whiny series of moans that must have been Jason’s fake orgasm - and while Jason’s insides bubbled with a confusing heat, you quickly dissolved off into laughter.

“Shut up.” Jason snapped, forcing his eyes down to focus on the process of taping himself up - praying that you wouldn’t see the heat that had spread across his cheeks. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“Only when I’m with you.” You replied, blowing him a kiss - to which he stuck his middle finger up at you.

He was eternally thankful when you went back to your own training in silence, only taking occasional glances up in his direction.

…

After that point, Jason had to admit to himself that he was attracted to you, at the very least. He could no longer deny that you were insanely attractive; you were a very, very hot person. And somehow, even past your annoying habits, he was being drawn into the orbit of your gorgeous looks and your wonderfully cocky, filthy mouth.

But he still hated you. He definitely still hated you.

He hated it even more when you became right - and you did become the object of some of his more heated fantasies. He became downright annoyed at the times he had his hand around his cock and imagined himself hate fucking you - imagined forcing every cocky retort out of your mouth, imagining you breathless and needy beneath him, begging for more with every hard push of his hips.

He hated how everything changed after Doctor Light.

Jason wasn’t thinking about your stupid beautiful cocky mouth after that. His mind was full of glass and he was being shredded from the inside out. He came home broken. After everything that happened with Deathstroke and Doctor Light - he was some fragile bird; some chewed up, used, pitiful thing. He didn’t have the energy to fight you anymore, not even for sport.

So after he was rescued, still floating in numbness, he didn’t know what to do when you burst into his room unannounced. You practically shoved the door off its hinges, and stormed across the room toward him - tears hot in your eyes. You pounded curled fists against his chest, screaming at the top of your lungs. Half of your words were static in his ears, but the tone of your voice pierced through his heart like an arrow. You called him stupid, asking where in his empty head he had gotten the idea to go off by himself.

Jason didn’t have it in him to fight you. So he broke down.

He felt like the world’s biggest idiot for crying in front of you. But his throat was tight and he choked on the tears - he was too tired. He just couldn’t hold them back. He screamed back, and asked you to lay off. To get off his fucking back.

You looked shocked. Like you had swallowed a piece of glass.

You surprised him when you uncurled your fists and wrapped the most tender, gentle hands around his back, and for the first time since he had known you - you embraced him in a hug. He was weak and he needed it more than he was willing to admit, so he let you. He sobbed against your neck, his own cries too loud that he missed the timid sound of your apology.

That wasn’t the only time you surprised him that week.

He knew it was because he was some broken little bird, but you started taking care of him. You brought him plates of food without being asked, and when he attempted to shove them away - you refused. You told him to eat before you had to ‘shove it down his fucking throat’.

You didn’t mock him. You didn’t correct him. And you surprised him even more when you turned the sharpness of your tongue on the others when they tried attacking Jason. They accused him of planting booze in Hank’s room or drawing crosses on Rachel’s mirror to fuck with her, among other things. And you popped veins in your neck going on a winding rant about how stupid and baseless their accusations were.

Jason wasn’t sure if you knew it, but you jumping to his defense wrapped him in a blanket of protection that he had never before felt. It was so entirely strange, but welcomed coming from you. Especially because he knew that it was genuine. He knew that you didn’t have any ulterior motives for doing this - for some reason, you just wanted to help him.

When you extended an invitation toward him to come with you as the group dispersed, torn apart by Dick’s nasty, festering secret - Jason felt welcomed by you. He knew that the dynamic between the two of you was changing at a breakneck speed, and he had to embrace it. He found himself eager to follow the weird, newly developing kinship that he had with you rather than wanting to stay in the empty coldness of the Tower with a brooding Dick.

From there, it was really difficult for Jason to pin down the exact moment that his feelings transitioned toward you from casual lust to something more. He couldn’t tell exactly when it turned into that panic-inducing, ‘oh my god, I’m fucked’ feeling of being in love. After leaving San Francisco, during the entirety of the time that the two of you were in Gotham together, your relationship remained completely platonic.

It was a few short weeks spent kicking ass as the best vigilante duo the city had ever seen, but there wasn’t a single moment Jason could point to where the two of you lit up with that romantic spark. It wasn’t some romcom bullshit come to life. It was just the two of you being friendly for once. The two of you helping each other survive.

Back then - Jason wanted you, badly. Even if he didn’t know just how badly, he wasn’t going to fuck up the whole dynamic just to get laid. He felt safe with you. He kicked ass with you. He was good with you. And during that short time - he was happy. So he wasn’t going to do anything to risk that happiness. Happiness was too rare for him. So why the hell would he try putting the moves on you, scare you away, and fuck it all up?

…

A little slice of that happiness came in the form of Hal’s Diner. It was a place in downtown Gotham, open twenty four hours, and you and Jason had gotten into the habit of stopping there after your patrols.

The two of you would kick some ass - break the legs of some drug dealers, make sure that women got home safe if they were walking late at night, keep the streets a little safer. And then you would change out of your patrol outfits and head to the diner, just as the sun was rising over the scummy streets of Gotham. You would get breakfast and Jason would get dinner. He would steal one of your eggs and you would take half his burger, and you would always comment about him putting way too much ketchup on his plate.

It was harmony.

“You know, every time I see you make a grown man cry, it brings me such intense joy.” Jason grinned as he said this, reminiscing about a beautiful moment from earlier in the night.

He spoke about it in the same manner that someone might reminisce about seeing a relative or a cute puppy. But this was natural for the two of you - since you had taken up vigilantism as a duo, violence was a sweet art for the two of you.

“Well, if he would have left that girl alone the first time I asked, I wouldn’t have broken his arm.” You shrugged, speaking very casually about it yourself.

You then picked a piece of bacon up off your plate and took a bite, grinning at Jason fondly. You did appreciate it when he complimented your skills.

Jason chuckled.

“You know, it is nice to see you using your powers for good instead of evil.” He commented.

“My powers?” You parroted back, your mouth half busy with chewing, your words slightly muffled.

You didn’t have any metahuman powers, so this comment did leave you slightly confused.

“Yeah.” He nodded, entirely confident in the statement he had to follow. “Your endless amount of energy to harass people and be endlessly annoying. The powers you used to spend all your time using on me.”

“You used to deserve it.” You were quick with your tongue as usual, not missing a beat with this statement.

Jason’s only rebuttal was to pick up a french fry - one not doused in ketchup - and throw it at your head. You flinched slightly when it bounced off your forehead - but when it landed in your lap, you easily picked it up and put it in your mouth, not thinking twice about doing so as you tossed Jason a wicked grin.

That. That must have been the moment.

That was the moment he realized that he was truly in love with you. You grinning at him from across the table, your smile lighting up your whole face, playing around with him like he actually made you happy. Like he could spend the rest of his life making you happy.

That’s why it hurt so much more when your phone buzzed on the table a few minutes later. When you told him that it was the Titans - Gar in trouble. That’s why it hurt so fucking much when you left.

Jason knew, in hindsight, that he should have gone with you. But he flailed like a rabbit caught in a snare, and rather than just agreeing with you, he felt the trap tightening around him, and he opted to chew off his own foot rather than simply letting you help him free.

He stupidly argued that it was some test from Dick. That the Titans could deal with their own problems. Jason knew that deep down, he was still tender from everything that had happened - Dick dropping him, even by accident. The accusations, the secrets. The rejection. He felt like he was laying down a line - he was letting you make a choice.

Him or the Titans.

But it shouldn’t have been a choice. It was Gar. Jason should have stood by his friend. He should have gone with you.

Deep down, Jason feared that if he did go with you - the Titans wouldn’t want him back. He feared another cutting rejection. They would simply bench him again, they wouldn’t even need him to help save Gar. They wouldn’t want him to help. He was useless, after all. He was careless and stupid. That was why he needed you to choose him. To stay.

That was what his mind was screaming out as you looked at him, disappointment flooding your eyes as you questioned him about Gar, about going back to the Titans.

Stay. He silently begged. Pick me.

And watching you snatch up your jacket in a huff and get up from the table, your food barely touched - his eyes boring into your back as you retreated - it was like having his heart carved out of his chest. And because he was so fucked up, he just sat there. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He didn’t chase you.

He let you go.

Having you suddenly disappear from his life was like missing a limb. Jason was constantly aching around your non-presence, constantly missing you. He felt torn up from the inside out, wondering if his frayed nerve endings would ever heal themselves. When he went to Donna’s funeral, he stared at you from across the tarmac - telling himself that if you even so much as glanced in his direction, he would cross that sickly one hundred foot black sea and talk to you. He would make the leap and apologize.

But you were fettered and stubborn and you kept your head straight. You knew it was the ultimate punishment not to acknowledge him. So the moment that the plane took off, Jason shoved on his helmet and sped off on his bike.

He easily became numb after that.

He went back to Bruce - to lay low and lick his wounds, or because it was the only place he knew, he wasn’t sure. He tried to be a Robin that wasn’t with you. It didn’t work. He felt more broken than ever. It was cheesy, pathetic bullshit - but he talked about you in therapy. Leslie encouraged him to reach out to you, but every time Jason’s fingers hovered over your contact in his phone, his hands shook, and all he remembered was the look of pure scorn you had given him before you snatched up your things and left the diner that day.

He thought of you as he suited up to go after the Joker. He considered how easy it would be for the two of you to take down the stupid clown together - how flawlessly the two of you worked as a team.

Jason thought of you as he drew his last breath, soaked in blood and struggling past the world-ending pain. He wondered, in a haze, if you were warm in your bed in The Tower while he was pressed into the cold ground, taunted by the laughter that rung in his ears.

…

Jason didn’t know how hard you cried for him when you heard the news of his death.

You wouldn’t have dared to say that the hole in the middle of your chest was caused by love - caused by the heartbreak of a lover being stolen. But you certainly felt robbed when you heard that the Joker had killed him. You seethed and you heavily considered marching toward Gotham to seek revenge.

You knew that Dick was angry with Bruce for finally giving in to what the Joker wanted and killing him. For finally ending their sick, twisted game. But when you found out - you were glad that the clown was dead. You wrapped one of Jason’s stolen shirts around your pillow, and you slept a bit easier at night.

…

Jason knew that he should have left town.

Crane claimed that Red Hood was going to be the next Batman - that he was going to be something the Bat never could. That he was going to actually keep the streets safe. But so far, all Jason had done was steal, kill, terrorize, torture. Crane spoke of omelets and breaking eggs - pigs and bacon, and ‘marketing’ himself to the public. But truly, it never made any real sense to Jason.

Jason knew that now, he was the type of man lurking in the night whose arm you would have broken if he was lingering too closely to the vulnerable. And you would have been right for doing so.

Jason was tired. He felt lost - directionless. He was getting tired of Crane’s bullshit. He missed you. But he knew that he couldn’t just go running back to you. You likely wouldn’t have accepted him back into your life if he did.

When Crane called him in that night, wanting to discuss ‘the game plan’ - Jason was worn. His patience for all of it was already wearing thin, and what happened next - it truly caused him to snap.

Jason showed up in full gear, wearing the costume of an alias he no longer believed in; foolishly dressed up as someone he had truly begun to resent. He was holding his helmet in hand, his heavy boots clunking on the floor as he dodged around Crane’s egghead lackeys - a random group of people who were working to convert the anti-fear gas into a larger batch. He knew that they were aiming to get more and more people in the city hooked; if Jason hadn’t abandoned his morals in this new life, he might have cared more about the consequences.

Instead, he made a B-line for Crane, who was typing away at something on the computer.

“Jason, my boy!” Crane grinned at him, giving a false, performative grin over his shoulder. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“What do you want?” Jason asked, his tone flat.

He was far too tired of Crane to engage in more word play or stupid riddles.

“Never one for pleasantries, are you?” Crane chuckled.

Jason didn’t offer him a reply - seemingly confirming his theory with this simple act.

Truthfully, he wasn’t. He wasn’t feeling very pleasant today. He hadn’t felt very pleasant any day since he had been so rudely pulled from the morgue and zombified to do someone else’s bidding against his will. Being an undead puppet didn’t really make a person all that pleasant.

Crane reached into the pocket of his oddly quaint grandpa sweater and pulled something out - a small glass vial, containing some clear liquid. It looked harmless - like water. But Jason knew Crane, and he knew that whatever it was must have been entirely dangerous if Crane was carrying around such a small dose of it.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, giving the vial a small shake, jostling the liquid inside to emphasize his point.

Jason hesitated before he shook his head in the negative. He hated to appear clueless and stupid around such an intelligent man, but he didn’t want to guess and be wrong. He knew that being misinformed around Crane was dangerous. But being cocky and pretending to know more than Crane was even more dangerous.

“This is a very highly concentrated form of liquid Methadone.” Crane explained. “It’s a highly addictive substance. And I think it’s going to give the mass market version of your formula that little extra kick that it needs, ya know? Keep the people coming back for more!”

He let out a bright chuckle, as though he was talking about a cleaning product that was marketed on an infomercial or some kind of great recipe for soup. That was one of the things that scared Jason the most about Crane - his ability to talk about life changing, deadly things with such jarring enthusiasm. He truly thought of bringing people their worst nightmares and their most painful deaths as ‘beautiful work’.

“What about it?” Jason prodded quietly.

He knew that Crane hadn’t called him here just to brag about a new idea to add something to the formula. He needed Jason for something.

Jason just hoped that he wasn’t looking to use him as a guinea pig again. He would likely rather die again than go down the path of heavy drugs. One thing he had vowed - he wouldn’t end up like his mother.

“Well, you see, my boy, that’s where you come in.” Crane grinned at him. “Due to its highly addictive qualities, Methadone is also a highly regulated substance. But because I am the wonderfully well-connected man that I am, I happen to know that there is a very large stash of it just sitting there, ripe for the taking, in this quaint little building uptown.”

Jason’s gut stirred with suspicion.

“Where uptown?” He asked.

“Well, it’s just-” Crane stuttered, and then sighed, deciding to get it out and over with. “The Wayne Memorial Cancer Research Facility.”

Jason glared at him.

“But see, it’s fine! Because I happen to know someone who knows their way around the Wayne Tech security systems very well. So Red Hood breaks in there, gets me my-”

“No.” Jason said flatly, before he turned and started to walk away. “Find somebody else. We’re done.”

Crane had threatened to replace him before. Crane had no-so-subtly threatened to kill him alongside being replaced. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Jason would be better off dead. Maybe Crane would find out that Jason was irreplaceable after all. Maybe Jason was a dirty, seedy criminal shaped by life for only one thing: ruining the lives of others. If Jason couldn’t do that, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

But he wasn’t going to fucking do this.

Killing was one thing. Stealing from drug dealers and mobsters was another. What he had done to Hank had crossed too many lines - but it didn’t even begin to approach the lines that this crossed.

Stealing from a facility that Thomas and Martha had set up when Bruce was just a child, shitting all over their legacy, using skills that Bruce had taught him in order to do it? That was too far. Jason couldn’t say that he had morals anymore, but he still had that voice of common decency in the back of his head yelling at him to stop it. Maybe it was your voice, correcting him at every turn the way you used to.

He should listen to that voice.

He should leave town.

“Hold on, hold on there, Jaybird!” Crane called after him.

The pure annoyance that the nickname caused was the only thing that stopped Jason. He considered turning around and shooting Crane just to shut him up.

“See, I think you forget how this works.” The man went off again - talking in that humming tone he always used that made Jason’s ears numb, made his brain switch off. “Every loyal dog gets a treat. A little motivation to get that Pavlovian mind barking in the right direction.”

Jason turned back around then.

“Nothing you say ever makes any fucking sense.” He barked out, ready to leave Crane with these as his last remarks before he left Gotham forever.

But then Crane tapped at a few things on his keyboard and pulled something up on the monitor - a dark, grainy video feed that had Jason squinting his eyes and walking closer to get a better look.

When Jason was able to truly take in the scene - his stomach dropped.

It was you.

You were sitting alone in some anonymous, concrete warehouse - probably in the industrial district of Gotham, if Jason had to guess. Crane didn’t like to keep his insurance policies too far away, he liked to play it close to the vest. You were tied to a chair, duct tape tight over your mouth, very much there against your will. You were looking straight ahead, with the camera angled down from the top corner of the room. Even through the grainy, black and white footage, Jason could see the wetness of tears streaking down your face.

You were terrified.

Jason’s helmet clattered to the floor, slipping from his grip as the shock overtook his system.

For the first time in weeks, fighting through the numbness of the drugs and the hazy shock of his new half-life - he was terrified too. Then he was angry. Rage bubbled up inside of him like a sharp, acidic bile.

“What the fuck have you done?” Jason growled out, the anger setting his jaw so tight that the words could barely escape between his teeth.

“I told you - every loyal dog gets a treat.” Crane said, a barely contained glee filtering through his voice as he peered over Jason’s shoulder at your weeping face on the screen.

He clapped a large hand on Jason’s shoulder, and Jason felt himself nearly choke on his own tongue - so swollen with anger that it barely fit in his mouth.

“So, go fetch, doggie.” Crane continued. “Go get me what I need. Otherwise, that sweet little treat of yours is gonna play dead.”

Crane leaned over and whispered those last words into Jason’s ear - and that was what truly caused him to snap.

In a flash, Jason grabbed the hand that was on his shoulder, whipped Crane around - there was a loud crack as Jason broke Crane’s arm. The egghead types who were working on the formula all paused; some of them gasped or hid behind things, but none of them were brave enough to intervene. Jason shoved Crane’s face into the monitor, cracking it out like a spider’s web but never fully obscuring the image of that dark, cold warehouse - the place where you were alone and terrified.

He twisted Crane’s broken arm, making a sound like glass grinding in on itself, and the man let out a howl.

“I think you forget how this works.” Jason barked at him, his voice so dark with rage that it almost sounded like he was wearing Red Hood’s voice modulator even though his helmet was on the floor at Crane’s feet. “When dogs get pissed off - they bite.”

He twisted the injury again, and Crane let out another bitter howl.

Jason demanded to know where you were, and Crane squeaked out an address. It was in the industrial district, so it checked out in Jason’s mind. It didn’t seem like a trap or a false answer to waste his time.

Jason shoved the pathetic, useless man to the ground, kicked him in the gut for good measure, and then leaned down to grab his helmet before shoving it on. He would need it in case Crane had anybody stationed there, guarding you.

Crane shouted something at him as he walked away, but Jason was barely paying attention - now very singular minded on his mission toward you.

“You have to learn to play by the rules, Red!” Crane choked out. “You won’t like how this ends! I made you! I fucking made you!”

…

Jason was surprised to find the building empty. No guards, seemingly no bombs, no gas canisters. At first, he thought it really was a trick, a misdirect to waste his time. But when he had just about given up hope of finding you, searching one of the back most rooms that used to serve as overflow storage for Ace Chemicals - he found you. Concrete and anonymous, some of the beams having eroded away in places from improper chemical storage.

When you saw him stalking toward you - his gun drawn, heavy boots thudding against the floor, modulator puffing out heavy, mechanical breaths - you let out a terrified whimper past the duct tape and more tears flowed freely down your face.

Jason felt a twinge of guilt. Of course. You had no clue it was him.

Perhaps he could get away with the mercy of never revealing himself to you. He could keep his mask on, release you, drop you back off with the Titans and then leave town. But eventually, Dick would tell you who he was.

At the very least, he could give you the comfort of seeing a familiar face after the hell you had been through. You were wearing a sweatshirt and simple cotton pants, and running shoes - it looked like you had been plucked off the street during a jogging session. He could only imagine how much Crane’s lackeys had scared you.

Once he was confident that the area was secure, he holstered his gun and then reached up, removing the face mask from his helmet and tossing it aside.

“Hey, hey, it’s me.” He told you - attempting to be gentle and soothing in his voice.

He approached you slowly, not wanting you to be scared as he reached to his belt for a knife - only with the intention to cut the ropes around your torso, wrists, and ankles.

He watched your expression as you flashed through a range of emotions - deep confusion, a bit of relief, sadness, and then strangely - burning anger. You glared at him with the most intense rage he had ever seen from you - more intense even than the day you had stormed into his room and called him stupid and suicidal for going after Doctor Light without backup.

Jason was slightly afraid of the lecture that would come next, but nonetheless, he knelt beside you and began cutting you free.

The minute that one of your hands was free, you reached up and ripped the duct tape off your mouth. You took only a fraction of a second to wince in pain from the tender skin of your lips being disturbed before you began verbally tearing into him.

“Jason Todd!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, so loudly that Jason was sure some of the edges of the corroded concrete pebbled off and fell down just from this. “Jason fucking Todd! I should have known you had something to do with this!”

“Wh-?”

Before Jason could question your odd choice of words or even recognize it as an accusation, you raised your other freshly free hand and slapped him squarely across the cheek - it was a hard, skull-shaking clatter. It had Jason dizzy, falling back onto his ass and dropping the knife before he could finish cutting the ropes around your legs.

“Fucking ow!” Jason griped, reaching up to grab his now very red cheek.

“You are such an asshole! Of all the completely idiotic, stupid things you have ever done-”

“I didn’t fucking kidnap you! Okay? I didn’t do shit!” Jason quickly argued back, finally now realizing that you thought he had put you here in the first place. “I’m here to rescue you!” He said each of these words slowly, looking you in the eyes, hoping that his point would get across more firmly this way.

There was a tense moment as you stared back at him with your jaw locked. It was likely that if your feet hadn’t still been tied, you would have run away - or kicked him. Jason was thankful that you couldn’t do either at the moment.

“Why?” You asked, finally breaking the tension.

“What?” Jason gaped.

This was the last thing he had been expecting.

He was saving you - why were you questioning him?

“Why are you ‘rescuing’ me?” You asked, taunting his phrasing of it with a mocking tone and large air quotes. He now regretted freeing your hands. “So you can bargain me off to Dick for ransom money? So you can put a bomb in my chest?”

You said the last part with intense disdain, tears dancing in your eyes.

So you did know what a monster he was.

He was surprised that you hadn’t hit him harder.

Jason heaved a sigh. He reached over and picked up the knife, very slowly, very tentatively resuming cutting the ropes on your legs to free you.

“I’m just freeing you so that you can be free. That’s it.” He said quietly, defeat lacing through every inch of his voice. “You don’t deserve this.”

He cut the last rope and folded the knife, sticking it back in his belt. He stood up then and caught a glimpse of your face - you were wearing the most complex expression he had ever seen. Perhaps confusion, perhaps anger. Maybe somewhere deep in your eyes - hurt.

He turned and moved to leave, hoping you would simply follow him out of the confusing maze of the building and he wouldn’t have to drag you out kicking and screaming.

“That’s not an answer.” You told him, your tone sharp and certain - the same tone you always used to correct him.

Jason whipped back around then, heaving a sigh as he looked at you - standing in the middle of the room now, arms folded over your chest, glaring at him on the spot. Cocky and so sure about yourself. Too damn certain and immobile in your points. Infuriating.

“Why the fuck do you have to make everything so damn complicated?” Jason shot back, annoyance and dread tight in every inch of him. “Why do you have to interrogate me about every damn thing that I do?”

“Because you make stupid ass decisions when I don’t.” You easily fired back. “Now tell me: why are you doing this?”

“Because I wanted to.” Jason huffed.

“Why?” You prodded again.

He let out another hot huff, and you didn’t let it go.

“Come on Jason!” You shouted, increasing in volume as you became more frustrated with his lack of an answer. “You didn’t just develop a conscience all of a sudden! Why did you feel the need to suddenly drop everything and come to my rescue? What makes me different than Hank? What makes me different than-?”

It was the annoyance grinding on him. It was a combination of your nagging voice, the lack of drugs in his system for the first time in weeks. The rawness of the world ragging on his last good nerve. The sound of your voice putting him in line - exactly where he was supposed to be. The way you reminded him of the truth now more than ever.

“Because I’m in love with you!” Jason shouted.

It was almost… angry. It was a declaration that hit you like a whip - more like an insult than something warm and kind. It wasn’t made of sweetness, like some moment from a film with a gentle piano riff wrapped around it. It was real - made of the haunting kind of passion that kept Jason awake at night.

Your eyes widened. Jason’s breathing stilled as he waited for you to react - to say something.

“Oh.” Your voice cracked around this syllable, and your eyes danced with more tears.

Jason felt his own heart crack apart inside of his chest, more terror flooding him.

He had died with the secret because he had never wanted to live up to the embarrassing vulnerability of confessing it. In the deepest part of his mind, he had lived this horror a thousand times. Him finally creeping out onto the edge of oblivion - speaking those words. Confessing. And then you stabbing him in the heart, rejecting him.

The reality of it ripped through him so much harder than it ever had in his nightmares.

Any last tiny piece of his soul that had survived being murdered by the Joker had just been shattered by you.

“Yeah. Fucking oh.” Jason echoed back, his own tears clutching at his throat.

Seeing him with that naked vulnerability dancing behind his eyes - it reminded you of the same person who came back from being kidnapped by Doctor Light. It reminded you of the real Jason you had gotten to know.

In that moment, it all came crashing toward you. You gasped harshly as you could barely breathe around it.

That hole in your chest had been shaped like a lover - it had been shaped like him. Filled with the pain of letting him get hurt, leaving him alone in Gotham to be murdered by the Joker. Filled with the doubt and confusion of never knowing what could have been between the two of you if you had chased those flirtations a little bit farther.

And now, he was standing right here in front of you, somehow perfectly alive and well - and there was only one possible thing you could do.

“Jason.” You gasped out his name, unable to fathom more words.

Before he could move, you reached out and grabbed both sides of his face, one of them still singed with a burning ache where you had slapped him so hard - and you pulled him into a kiss, hard.

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t dainty or smooth like some Hollywood love confession - it was hungry. Bordering on feral as you both fought to consume more of the other person, bleeding out little moans and fighting for breath past each other’s lips. Jason’s hands rushed to embrace you, wrapping around your back and grabbing a needy, possessive handful of your ass while you kept your grip tight on his face, keeping his face forcefully close to your own as you devoured his mouth.

You felt some of his tears escape - such a rush of emotions making him raw and unable to hold them back, and you moaned pitifully into his mouth as he wetness slipped underneath your palms. Whatever it was - his pain, his pleasure; you would take it. He was all yours now.

…

Far off, on the other side of Gotham, Crane chuckled quietly to himself as he watched the scene unfold. He had pulled up the camera feed on a separate tablet, seeing as Jason had used his head to crack the monitor. With his broken arm bound in a temporary sling, he used his one good hand to pull something out of a drawer - a remote with a single button.

“For these violent delights have violent ends,” He recited to himself, still grinning widely as he looked at the two lovers in the grainy, black and white footage. “And in their triumph, die like fire and powder. Which as they kiss, consume. Even the sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness, if the taste confounds the appetite.” Crane poised his finger on the button. “Therefore, love moderately.”

He pressed down, and dissolved into more epic laughter as he watched what came next.

…

You were only human, and you could only kiss Jason for a few minutes before your brain demanded oxygen. As much as you hated to pull away from the sweet, bruising sting of his lips, you forced yourself back and immediately took in a sharp breath that turned into a rolling pant - Jason let out a needy whine in protest.

With his arms holding you so securely and the dizzying heat now flowing through you - you almost didn’t catch it. But it was there, in the background, something steadily present that wasn’t there before.

Beeping. A small, electronic beeping.

“Do you hear that?” You asked Jason, squinting your eyes with confusion and looking around, trying to find the source of the noise.

He did hear it.

“Fuck.” Jason mumbled.

Panic flooded him. The whole thing had been a trap.

He pulled away from you hesitantly and grabbed his mask up off the ground, snapping it back on.

“We have to go. Now.” He told you, his voice now sharp and robotic through the voice filter as he grabbed your wrist and began dragging you away - you became limp to his direction for once and simply followed, fear tight in your gut once again.

Jason didn’t want to consider the possibilities, but he knew it could be anything from a large bomb, meant to tear you to shreds, to a large dose of fear gas waiting to be deployed. And he didn’t have an antidote at the moment. He needed to get you out of the building and transport you to safety.

When the two of you came to a door - one of the many that Jason had passed through on his way in - it snapped shut in Jason’s face. It was on some kind of mechanical locking system, that much was apparent. Jason rushed forward, trying to pry it open - but it was welded steel, and it wouldn’t budge.

Jason heard more slamming - more metal forcing itself shut on the same locking system.

“Jason?” You croaked, that unsure terror back in your voice again. Something so rare for you. You were looking to him for answers. You were looking to him to rescue you.

Overhead, the last bits of light were shut out - glimpses of the street lights outside - as thick metal shudders collapsed down over the windows. The room was sealing itself shut, becoming air tight.

“Stand back.” Jason told you, not waiting to see if you followed the instruction before he pulled out one of his guns and began shooting at the door’s heavy metal hinges. He knew it was futile and he feared that one of the bullets might ricochet off and hit you, but he didn’t have many options left.

Then he heard it. The gentle hissing of gas being released into the air.

Jason was naive to have hoped that it was Crane’s classic Fear Gas - that would have been a merciful walk in the park compared to what he had planned for you. Betraying Jonathan Crane meant that Jason had to be truly punished.

Jason turned to you, wrapping his arms around you, as if trying to shield you from the air itself - but it was too late. You began coughing and struggling to breathe, and Jason looked on with confusion as his chest twisted with guilt.

With his helmet on, he felt nothing. For the first few moments, he didn’t even understand what was going on as you gasped for air, struggling to form a word as you choked on each breath. Jason had no clue what the substance was or how he could fix it, looking on in horror as thick fog clouded around your ankles - your eyes bulging out of your head as you struggled for oxygen.

“Y/N?” Jason gasped, holding you by both shoulders as you became weaker and leaned on him. “Y/N?”

You couldn’t answer him.

You continued to wheeze, your breath hitching against your throat harshly. As the fog reached up to touch your face, it left angry, blistering marks in your skin. Unlike Jason, you had no armor to protect yourself - and somehow, Crane had turned the air itself acidic. Your eyes became wrecked with bloody red streaks and your face swelled as you continued to choke.

Jason’s insides screamed, but he felt too still.

As more of the fog touched you, some of the marks on your neck and your cheek blistered more and opened up, bleeding out pinkish bubbling puss as Jason continued to hold you - he didn’t know what else to do.

All he could do was hold you.

A harsh foam seeped out of your mouth as you choked on your last half-breath, and Jason felt a stinging pain consuming him - he wasn’t sure if it was the acidic fog finally breaching through his clothing, or the biting pain of having you limp in his arms - dead, as he huddled there on the floor.

“Come on.” Jason wept, steaming up the inside of his helmet as he recycled back his own breath now. He reached up to your cheek, accidentally skimming off a layer of your marred skin with his gloved thumb as he tried to wipe away some of the teary blood that had leaked from your eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Wake up.”

Jason simply wept. And he held you.

As he looked at the camera feed, Crane smiled.

“This is what happens when you don’t play by the rules, Red.”

...

A/N: SOOOO obviously this ending leaves us with a lot of questions - did Jason survive? I think this can be interpreted one of two ways: one, Jason did live. He managed to escape somehow, and he had scars all over his body from the acidic fog, and he enacted a very vicious, bloody, torturous revenge on Crane before going into hiding forever (or before using Red Hood to give actual justice to innocent people who needed it, his scars always a reminder of who he lost). Or - he sat there in shock and eventually choked to death as well. Or he pulled the whole 'my life is not worth living anymore' thing and just took off his helmet on purpose. So you can imagine that either of those things happened next.

Also, if you didn't catch it (or, if you're not a Saw person) - this situation was heavily inspired by the final plot twist trap in Saw X. I love the acidic fog, and I feel like Crane could be a trap guy. The Titans version of Crane could be good friends with John, imo.

Also, if you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

#sundrop writes #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x gn!reader #titans fanfiction #dc titans #titans x reader #dc titans fanfiction

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