#I enjoy heartache

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Revive Your Piece of Mind

—

Time written-4:44 a.m

Jason Todd/fem!reader angst

—

The impact of both men tumbling onto hard, steel grates down below nearly caused the entire platform to tremble.

The rattle of his pistol landing beside him quickly found the palm of his outstretched hand before he stands abrupt, quickly standing over the masked bastard he’s fought the second he arrived.

“Jason!” You cry out for him the second he aims the gun down on Batman’s head, your bounds hands preventing you from reaching towards him and potentially disarming him. At least, that’s what Red Hood assumed you’d do.

“Stay out of this!” The masked criminal loudly demands, keeping his focus on the bat that laid below him, quickly registering what was doing on once he gained his bearings.

Bait.

The bastard used you as his pretty faced bait to lure him here. You; his girl, his sweetheart, the woman who took months of self defense and trained alongside the rest on occasion for amusement, but not him.

Not the Batman, never the Batman.

That was where Bruce took opportunity on your mistake.

What had he done to you, during the year he was dead? Did he brainwash you? Manipulate you? The textbook signs Jason pictured in his mind of what Bruce could’ve said and done to make you move on and forget him?

What did you think of him now? A much better version of the man he used to be, holding Batman at gunpoint?

"Do it, Jason." The words left your lips faster than you realized it.

It sounds so easy to scream out, as painful as it was. A wave of understanding shadowing over your mind. Bruce was the man who raised you both, and chuckled off to the side every chance he got from witnessing how close you and Jason became over the years.

The Red Hood was silent, eyes wide in surprise behind his mask, for all you knew. He believed you were another victim to Bruce’s manipulations, his mind games, his tricks.

"Do it, shoot him!" Came your eagerly desperate plea, as you were the one wanting to get away from the man who bound you here, keeping you restrained in the dark until both men came bursting through glass. Your eyesight limited via pale moonlight from the roof of this strange warehouse.

No. You thought Jason had changed, but it quickly showed that it was also the other way around.

You wanted him dead too.

This gravely surprised him. In a sick, twisted sense, he also found delight in the idea that Batman never got through to you.

He knew his girl was stronger than that. This so called master detective failed in that category too.

It made all of this so much easier.

…

Click.

…

Click. Click.

The lack of bullets resulted in an empty chamber. A horrific silence shortly following until a strange, deflated wheeze leaves the lungs of the darkly dressed victim at Red Hood’s feet.

A deep rumble of laughter erupted from Batman’s chest, a twisted smile growing on the man’s stoic face, sending you both deadly silent in a confused mix of horror and shock.

In seconds, Bruce swiped Jason off his feet, shoving his arm wielding gun off to the side. While Jason managed to clutch hold of the nearest railing to maintain his balance, he failed to block a harsh blow against his shielded temple, forcing his back further against the platform guards. The rusted iron bars gave way with a few creaks and loud clicks, sending a flailing armed vigilante down into the abyss down below, without a scream to his name other than yours.

Your irritated wrists now bled from your relentless tugs on your cuff restraints keeping you locked against the railings, cutting deeply into your skin the longer you struggled. Your lunged burned from your screaming, hoping you’d see a large grappling hook catch onto the grate platform under your knees.

You never did.

What was worse was the consistent cackling that nearly overshadowed your crying voice, not once taking a single breath of air since the second he started.

You couldn’t stop sobbing, quickly acknowledging the horrific realization that you had admitted you wanted Batman dead, in his very presence. Batman’s laughter never ceased, even when he turns his attention towards you, pitifully sobbing on the ground with no one to free you. No one to save you.

In a desperate attempt, you bash your shoulder against the railings keeping you stuck in place, hoping you’d get lucky to escape the storming footsteps of the cackling, false vigilante behind you.

You gasp awake shortly you feel a firm hand grasping hold on the back of your head, forcing your hands to rip from their tight grip on your blankets, violently swiping at the phantom of your dying nightmare.

The darkness was unfamiliar to you at first, but what brought forth a recognizing comfort was a faint smell of cologne on your sheets. Your bedsheets, on your own bed, in your own bedroom. In your own home.

As the darkness slowly grew accustomed to your teary vision, you could make out broad oval, leafy stalks of various potted plants, a small plethora of endless photos plastered along the walls with tacky tape, and your vanity with yesterday’s makeup palates sprawled across the surface.

Come to think of it, a strange heaviness lingered along your lap, contrasting the soft security of your blankets. Your hands met smooth, worn leather that once was draped over your very self when you slept. A quiet, gentle gesture he had always done when coming from patrols early.

What went from a slowly settling ease spiked up to a bright distress came from the absence of the warm body of your partner by your side.

Relax. Easy.

It’s what, the middle of the night?

Your hand searches through your blankets for your abandoned phone regardless.

A warm, amber glow caught the corner of your eye before your phone screen blurred your vision, forcing you to acknowledge this little light peeking from underneath your closed door.

Checking the time, you slip out of bed, spotting his boots parked by the bedroom door.

There he sat in the living room after a short tread down the hallway, a warm mug of tea perched on the coffee table beside his phone. His inky locks slightly framed his downturned face, peering at the words of a hardcover book in his lap.

While he could remain as quiet as possible due to years of stealth experience, the slightest suspicion of your presence in his nerves made his head turn. Teal eyes meet your gaze before your bare feet make the squeaky floorboards creak.

“Morning, mama,” Jason quietly greets while gifting you a short, simple smile. “Why’re you up? It’s early.”

A strange wave of relief douses your shoulders at the sight of him lounging in a weathered white shirt and gray sweats, hair tussled after hours of being flattened in a sweaty helmet.

This was his little routine when he came back from boring patrols early on calm, quiet days. Sometimes, sleep didn’t find him so easily as it should’ve, so he’d spend time catching up on his latest novel until his adrenaline died down.

Jason picked up on your hesitation to respond, your nervous tick consisting of rubbing along your forearm after you hug yourself. The exhaustion in your eyes, the hesitation to answer such a simple question.

He didn’t like what he saw, closing his book on an unmarked page for a later time.

“C’mere.”

He beckons over your exhausted body with a simple wave of his hand, which you gladly do.

He settles you in his lap, letting you tuck your legs by your side as he snatches the cream colored comforter folded on the armrest, pulling it over your shoulders. His warm arms consumed your shielded body, clutching you like a little child with a stuffed animal.

“Come on, look at me,” he encourages you to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong, babygirl? What’s the matter?”

His abandoned book laid face down on its cover title, but you managed to catch the abbreviation of the author along the spine. F. Dostoevsky.

You took a good while to come up with an answer, acknowledging the warmth and stability of Jason’s voice soothing your ears, his body heat a result from his beating heart encapsulated inside his chest.

Those patient, gorgeous eyes used to glare a crude, untrustworthiness when he came back to life. Now, all they ever gave you was wholesome contentment, especially with your love remaining ever so genuine after all these years.

“Didn’t sleep good,” you whisper, your throat itching for moisture. He clicks his tongue while he rubs your back, temporarily removing his hand to offer you his lukewarm tea.

“Wanna talk about it, Princess?” He offers, your concerns being his alone to claim. “M’all ears.”

Was this another dream? Part of you didn’t expect this was real. You weren’t fully sure what to expect, but this… was going a little too perfectly.

What were you expecting? The lightbulb to explode? For Batman to peer out from an unsuspecting corner, or break through a window? For this tea to burn down your throat like acid?

But that didn’t happen. It was just simple, chamomile tea. With no sugar.

“This needs honey,” you say after two sips, making Jason scoff.

“Not this early.” He gently pokes your cheek, tilting his head with a handsome smirk. “What happened? You miss me in your dreams, mama?”

It brings a smile to your face and a pleasant warmth in your heart. The last thing you wanted was to bother him with such a disturbing dream, enjoying the comfort that radiated off him in such a cozy, early morning ambience.

He was here, free, safe. That was all you really needed.

“I prefer you right here much better.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Jason retorts, his thumbs drawing soothing circles along your outer thighs.

“You sure you’re okay, babygirl?” Jason gently pries, his forehead settling against your hairline, his softened eyes full of concern scanning along your face for the fiftieth time.

You reply with a subtle ‘mhm’, softly exhaling through your nose while you tug the comforter closer. “I’m okay.”

Jason, while he didn’t voice it, wasn’t satisfied with your response. But, he wouldn’t pry. Not now, at least.

“Well, listen,” He slowly prepares his next words, hoping to put a smile on your pretty face. “I’m thinking of taking tonight off.”

Your raised brows, accompanied by the glimmer of happiness in your eyes nearly gives his heart a few palpitations.

“Really?” You smile, clutching the mug closer to your chest, your rising hopes becoming a soothing balm to your anxious nerves.

“Uhuh,” he continues, his other hand never ceasing their mindless movements along your skin. “I’m thinkin’ we can get some dinner, maybe go out somewhere. Whatever you wanna do.”

“I’d like that,” you reply in seconds, making Jason smile as he adjusts a few strands of your hair.

“So, what hits your fancy? Batburger, or pizza, maybe Superbabes—“

“Oh my God, Jason—“

“Kidding, kidding!” He laughs, holding your hands before you could hit him again. “Relax. Dick says the wings there are shit, anyway.”

“How about Lorenzo’s?”

His brows slightly widened in surprise at the familiar name. Lorenzo’s? The little Italian restaurant on the other side of town?

“We haven’t been there since we were, like what, still in highschool?” He questions with furrowed brows at the memory of it. A cute little restaurant, with seventeen tables at most, four of them being outside. They sold fresh gelato on Wednesdays, and always sold their desserts at half price on closing hours at the end of each day.

You smile and nod. “I know. They’re still owned by Emilia and her husband. Saw her the other day at the store, she wants to see how grown you’ve gotten.”

Jason could only smirk and tilt his head back in amusement, pinching the bridge of his nose while chuckling under his breath.

He could recall it now, the painfully awkward moments where the sweet owner’s wife, a short woman with fading blonde hair, would pinch his cheek before chastising him to eat more every time he brought you there on dates.

Back when he was a bit less muscles, and more goody two shoes.

“Fine, we’ll go pay them a visit,” he agrees, thinking it would be nice to see the old couple again.

He could practically hear Emilia praising the heavens that he took her advice.

“You don’t wanna order in? We can just go say hi.” You suggest, getting a bit of a feeling Jason may have wanted to skip the attention and just eat in the comfort of your shared apartment.

“Nah, I don’t mind,” Jason replies, resting his head on his propped up hand along the armrest. “We’ll leave a little before five.“

“That’s a bit early for dinner.”

“Takes time to look this good after all, babygirl.” He gives a weak shrug, expertly hiding a smile. “Gotta admit, it gets exhausting, but I’ll do it for Emilia.”

He laughs again when you playfully smack his chest, catching your hand in his shortly after to plant some light kisses along each of your fingertips.

You close your eyes, giggling to yourself as you take in the faded cologne clinging onto his shirt, the fabric rustling along your cheek as Jason murmurs just how much he loves you against the top of your head.

You loved him so much more than you could’ve ever imagined, stronger than your fears of losing him, stronger than your conflicted indifference with Batman. He wouldn’t imagine the lengths you’d go to prove it, to fall down the dark cavern with him if you had the chance.

Anytime to embrace this feeling just a second longer, not wanting to lose this. All you wanted to look forward to now was your date tonight at an old establishment running since before either of you were born.

Lorenzo would cry out your names, expressing such excitement at your grown faces, whilst Emilia gave warm, motherly hugs, gifting you two of her famous pistachio cannolis to take home.

The heartwarming sentimentality was nearly enough to diminish the cryptic cackle of the dark knight’s laughter into a ghostly whisper in the back of your mind.

For now, sleep came much easier, the ease of your worried mind settled by the calming tempo of your beloved’s heartbeat.

[piquuroblox]

thinking abt the update Randomly happening and this guy becoming an obsession faster than light .

[lexumpysfunland]

can I hug Narrator, plsss):³❤❤❤❤???

He allowed it... But mostly because of Stanley insistence and adorable smile.... Walter can't say no to his smile~

[whatlovelybones-if]

I'm on my knees!! Thank u so much for letting me play as a murder-happy protagonist for once, I'm finally living my true crime dreams. One question, will there be any love triangle routes here? I can't help but think the drama will be extra scrumptious here

thank you, dear bonnie! i exist to present a door of escapism for all you dexter/hannibal/true crime fans out there 🫶🏻

to answer your question: yes, i do have a love triangle route plan and suffice to say that it’s gonna be juicy asf 🤭

at first, i planned to make it between J and sebas but upon reflection, i think sebas will have too little self-confidence to even try pursuing MC when he finds out his opponent is their borderline insane childhood best friend. the real deal will be J vs the detective because J isn’t about to lose to a two-penny hotshot detective and the detective will have too much fun rising to the challenge of making the MC choose them.

do i think it’s going to become an angsty little emotional shit show as everyone gets too involved and hearts break one by one? yes, but i will never turn down a challenge to make my characters suffer as much as possible 😈

[hellsite-hall-of-fame]

I finally decided to create a semi-decent tagging system- enjoy :)

#hellsite hall of fame - actual legendary posts that belong in my wonderfully cursed hall of fame museum

#hellsite hall of fame curator’s bullshit - asks and other posts that 100% belong here, but alas aren’t legendary posts

#the hellsite answers - any and all asks. some helpful, some just silly-goofy-fun, some extremely cursed bc ✨tumblr✨

#hellsite hunger games - @hellsite-hungergames blorbo poll competition that I somehow was lucky enough to enter, and was runner up in. also gives context to -

#enemies to lovers angst hurt no comfort 200k hellsite hall of fame × perry the platypus - a truly beautifully cursed fanfic being written by @instantpansies about how I lost the hellsite hunger games to perry the platypus bc, once again, ✨tumblr✨

#color of the sky - my beloved favorite post that i’ve based this blog’s entire personality on. the original post is somewhere in there... if you scroll far enough :)

#bee movie script - some of the best posts on this hellsite are under this tag. scroll through it all… if you dare

#long post - any and all long posts. some are legendary, some are just obnoxious…. but that’s why I love them <3

[ask-zerotrio]

Clavell and Sada when they were younger, aka Clive had to come from somewhere

Born from my stray thought about Sada going full punk/grunge since she already stood out amongst all the male researchers. Just imagine her being all "f*** you all I do what I want" with everyone. Enter: nerdy wallflower Clavell gelling up his hair and dessing up to keep her company/make her feel less standout/alone.

Or basically: But what if Sada and Clavell (and Turo) were besties. What if Clavell was the heart of their group. The one who focused on the present and they both let visions for the future and aspirations for the past tear them apart-

[painted-bees]

Ok 66 and 73 aren’t bad runs, a bit younger than some make it but not young by any means. Also dying in the same year when being in two separate age/health brackets like that is concerning but I’m sure it’s fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine

oh, that's the year death does them part, they don't go at the same time haha

[between-the-pages-ofa-book]

I would love to see the AU where Ward didn't betray the team, where everything before the betrayal remains the same and we naturally continue the story where Ward is still a member of the team.

[oseike]

I've been hurting myself with this thought that just won't leave me so I'm sharing it so others can suffer with me, hi

But

The one who suffered the most from the group regression was Yoo Joonghyuk.

Let's look at it this way: When 49!kdj collapses, the party ends up with the knowledge that someday, the Kim Dokja in front of them will just disappear. He won't wake up, and will remain as he is until that time. So, they band together under Yoo Joonghyuk, who has evolved his skill into allowing a group to regress, and they go back to save the rest of him. At this time, Yoo Joonghyuk regains his memories of his Turn Zero, and he realizes his sponsor - that silent force that has been watching him all 1864 rounds - was Kim Dokja all along, likely observing from that train.

Then they get there. They reach him, they dig him out of that subway car....and they have already failed. The end result is Kim Dokja in a coma, now looking younger as well.

To the rest of the party, it really is a zero sum, or maybe slightly better even. They started with a comatose, incomplete Kim Dokja who would never wake up and would someday disappear. They ended with potentially even less of Kim Dokja, still in a coma never to awaken, but without the surety that he would disappear. Essentially, nothing was gained, but also nothing really was lost.

Except for Yoo Joonghyuk.

To Yoo Joonghyuk, he intended to rescue Kim Dokja - to complete his own original desire to finally meet the person who led him through his first life, to face the one who has been watching him since then, and rescue his life and death companion.

But what he is left with is so much worse. Not only does he fail, but after they return, that sponsor, that gaze that had been watching him - a gaze he had come to hate but now no longer could - was also gone. He has to live with the knowledge that Kim Dokja had watched him sink into hatred for him, had sworn to kill him, and then in the moment when he had returned at last, intending to save him, he instead fulfilled the dark wish he had made for countless lives instead. There is a black stain on his sword he can't get rid of that is proof of that.

If he had not regressed, if he had not gone to save Kim Dokja, then Yoo Joonghyuk would not have been the one to strike down the last remnants of him. The gaze of that sponsor would have simply faded away with the system, and he wouldn't know what happened to Kim Dokja. He would probably believe he would just keep living to watch over the world lines forever.

Instead, he has to live with the knowledge that he rushed Kim Dokja to his death, and cut him down at the last. The comatose Kim Dokja he has now is a cold reminder of what he truly lost, and the sky that used to be alive with that silent gaze is now wholly empty. For the first time in 1865 rounds, he is alone, and that fact is not a celebration, but a dirge.

[uriwoos2]

thinking so sooo many boyfie junmin thoughts today.... my dearest baby.. ♡♡

he's so so lovely just,,, I can't get over the thought of shy jumie. like I just know he gets so especially shy in front of his partner, a blushing adorable mess ₍ᐢ •̥ ̫ •̥ ᐢ₎ <3

I can see him getting cuteness aggression over you, trying to sate it by giving u a shy little peck on your cheek, but getting so so shy... leaning his head on ur shoulder, and then just fully turning away cuz he can't take it!! 😔😔 what if I just melt rn..

and you'd just grab and gently turn him around, only to see his cheeks all pink, and eyes darting sheepishly,, what a darling sight.. your boyfriend is so so cute </3 so you'll just give him a kiss right back, cuz he deserves it :( on that cute beauty mark on the tip of his pretty nose <3 the only thought in ur mind being that your baby's just so perfect and so so adorable :(

he'd let out a cute little shriek and then just engulf you in the warmest, most comfy hug of ur life that you'd absolutely melt into.. (๑•́ ᎔ ก̀๑)ֶָ he'd do it in an effort to hide his shyness from u, but also out of the sheer need to somehow express his immense adoration for u, the urge to be close so so strong..

I need to go take a walk... and cry. <(＿　＿)> 💔 I love my boyfriend <3

[missmaywemeetagain]

A Million Little Heartaches: Pandora's Box 💔💫❤️‍🔥

A/N: Hi, my darlin's! I was feeling a little hesitant about posting my first non-EP fic, but I got over myself lol. This one is a bit of an experiment as it's not told in chronological order, and we'll see if I continue it based on inspiration and interest. Please let me know your thoughts! As always, they are so appreciated and what helps keep me motivated a lot of the time, especially as I'm trying new things. I really hope you enjoy it and can't wait to hear what you think. 💗

ALSO, I'm not sure if tumblr has changed its algorithm or what, but I know I'm not seeing people's posts in my feed like I used to. Turn on notifications for me to not miss anything and if you like this, it would be super helpful if you reblog this post! Thank you babies! 💗

Key Tropes: Angst, right person(s)-wrong time, star-crossed lovers, slow burn kinda? friends to enemies to friends to lovers?(LOL), forbidden love, second chance love

💥 Head's up! My first Scarf Universe exclusive (Red Scarf) is set to come out THIS WEEK for my Patreons! It's utterly filthy and indulgent, so if you are interested, you can join my Patreon community HERE to get access! 💥

A Million Little Heartaches

Part 1: Pandora’s Box

March 2026

I’ve curled my legs up under me in an oversized armchair, staring aimlessly at the fire. My empty wine glass is precariously balanced in my hand as I am hypnotized by the flames. Liam’s angry outburst shocked everyone, and his words still ring like poison in my ears:

You abandoned me.

I run through all the things I could’ve said in response instead of just standing there speechless as he ripped me into pieces in front of everybody.

Namely, you made your choice, Liam. And it wasn’t me.

It was never me.

Good ole Lily, forever the consolation prize, I muse, shaking my head.

There’s a hollow feeling in my heart that hasn’t been there for a long, long time.

“Mind if I join you?” Jake’s rumbling voice startles me out of my staring contest with the fire.

Oh god, now? Seriously? is what I’m thinking, but I manage a cordial nod instead, setting my empty glass on the side table next to me.

He sits in the chair facing mine. A glance over reminds me he’s a man now, not a boy, the firelight hitting the weathered but not unattractive lines on what used to be a baby face. The peach fuzz which had tickled my cheek so long ago is now a short, dark beard on a sharper, less rounded jaw. His once sandy hair has darkened some and is peppered with grey. He has aged well.

I can’t imagine how he must be looking at me after all these years, at the changes he must see. I know I’m not the girl I was. I look back at the fire.

“Are you okay?” he asks after a moment of silence.

I roll my eyes over to him and huff a bitter laugh. “Does it matter?”

I shouldn’t have said it like that—Liam’s freak out wasn’t Jake’s fault—but everything feels so fucking raw that I don’t have the wherewithal for a filter.

“It always has,” he says quietly.

The words hang there between us, heavy. There’s a poignancy and deeper meaning to them that slaps me out of my pity party.

“Excuse me?” I breathe out, blinking. My heart starts racing, like a hummingbird trapped in my ribcage.

He doesn’t get to say my feelings have always mattered. Not him. Not the guy who dragged me to hell and back because he was too much of a coward to let me down easy. Not the one who I spent nearly six years trying desperately to know and wishing for him to know me, too. Who I tried, only somewhat successfully, to forge a friendship with after it seemed all between us was well and truly done.

Jake shifts uncomfortably in his seat, looking at the fire before he finds what he needs there to bring himself to look back at me.

He only knows a fraction of what he put me through, or at least I think he does. He was ever the master at shutting me out, so it’s always been hard to know what he’s thinking or feeling without having to pry it out of him with a crowbar.

His voice echoes in my head, a long-forgotten memory: I guess I’m just the kind of person who hides my feelings.

An understatement.

This makes it a surprise when he looks straight at me with those warm brown eyes that used to melt me into the floor and says, “Your feelings have always mattered.”

Maybe it’s the wine, or the blowup with Liam, but my filter disappears completely. There’s a latent, hot anger that boils to the surface.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You, of all people, think my feelings have always mattered?” I throw back at him, scoffing.

He looks as though I’ve slapped him, and if I wasn’t so upset, I might try to backtrack. But I spent six years of my adolescence trying to shield him from my feelings, and as an adult, I don’t have time for that shit anymore.

“I suppose I deserve that,” he recovers, looking back at the fire.

I’m surprised, to say the least. It’s not as though we hadn’t talked about it back in the day, at least somewhat, but I never let him know just how deeply he hurt me. I never told him about the panic attacks, the intense depressions, or the manic feelings I’d get from just a morsel of attention from him. No, I’d buried all that for the sake of our “friendship” or whatever it was.

Part of me knows it’s stupid to try and rehash things that we put to rest so long ago. I shouldn’t hold it against him—we were just teenagers—but it wasn’t until my twenties that I finally grasped just how much Jake fucked me up. He made me think that if you love someone enough, they can treat you however they want and it doesn’t matter, and if it’s “meant to be” then someone can string you along indefinitely without consequence. I’d been so convinced we were these star-crossed lovers that had such a deep thread of connection that we’d someday figure it out. But someday never came.

Liam had. Liam pulled me from the ashes of my heartbreak and showed me real love. Or so I’d hoped. I’d hoped so much that I’d ignored and excused all the similarities between the way he and Jake treated me. But he had loved me and risked it all for me at one time. I mattered to him, to a fault.

But with Jake, I’m never sure I mattered. I always felt on thin ice, or at least that’s how I remember it. But memory warps over time. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’ve been wrong about all of it.

God, he still has me running circles around myself.

“Yeah, you do deserve it, a little,” is what I finally settle on, but it comes out gentler than I want it to.

He gives me a familiar sardonic half-smile.

Ah, there he is, the little shit. It was a look that twenty years ago would set my heart a-flutter on a good day and made me want to throttle him on a bad one. Some things never change.

Another thing that hasn’t changed is my need to shove him past his comfort zone with all my thoughts and feelings.

“Sometimes, I’m still not sure I mattered to you at all.” The words catch in my throat, giving away more than I want to.

His eyes snap back to mine. “How can you say that?” he asks with a surprising level of hurt in his voice.

I’m taken aback. “Jake, I don’t think you entirely understand the way you…” I stop myself and shake my head.

“The way I what? Say it,” he challenges, uncharacteristically.

I take a deep breath. “The way you broke my heart completely. How I spent months—no, years—trying to figure out what I had done that was so bad that you didn’t have or couldn’t really admit you had feelings for me, or why I was so repulsive you couldn’t bear to be with me. You had me so tied in knots I could hardly breathe.”

“Lily, you were never—” he starts, shaking his head, but I don’t listen, plowing right through whatever he thinks he needs to say.

“And then Liam came into the picture and helped me heal, and still I was so desperate for your approval, for us to be friends. But you always, always kept me at arm’s length. I could never figure any of it out. I still wonder if it was all one-sided and I was just a crazy little girl who manufactured this epic love story in her head,” I ramble out, shaking my head.

I’m saying too much, I know I am, but what the fuck does it matter now, after all this time? I have no need to impress him anymore.

   He shutters down, and it’s so entirely familiar that I have to laugh. “That. Right there,” I point, “is the same thing you did to me 27 years ago. You could never let me in, could you? As much as I hoped you would, as close as I swear I got sometimes, this brick wall is what made me question everything about us. It always has.”

His eyes widen as he’s called out so viciously, his hands tensing then releasing the arms on the chair. I let him sit in it for a moment before I drop the last bombshell, the one I’m sure will ruin the precarious balance between us:

“You were my first love, Jake, and I was so in love with you it hurt. God, I was so convinced we were connected in some timeless, deep, soulmates kind of way. And sometimes you did things that seemed to confirm that, but then you’d turn around and…well, I tried so hard to understand why you didn’t feel it, too. But I was young and stupid and obsessed, I guess,” I laugh, looking into the fire. “I finally just had to accept I was never gonna figure you out or understand why you didn’t love me back.”

He’s quiet for a long moment and I’m almost afraid he’s going to get up and walk away.

“Sorry, I guess old habits die hard. Here I am, still blasting you with all my feelings, 25-plus-years later,” I chuckle. “No wonder you never wanted to be with m—”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he interrupts.

My head snaps back to him. “What?”

“I never meant to hurt you like that. I never meant to drive you to…Liam,” he says, with a frustrated bitterness in his tone that surprises me.

“Okay…?” I’m not sure where this is going, but my heart kicks up again.

“I told you back then I liked you,” he says blatantly, as if it were ever that simple between us.

I can’t help but laugh. “Did you, really? You told me in different ways how you were ‘gonna ask me out, but…’. And there was always a ‘but.’ And it was never in the present tense. I heard from other people that you liked me, sure, but you never really told me. Not in a way that felt like I wasn’t forcing something out of you that you were ashamed of or just telling me to save face. And it was always me who came to you. Always. You had a thousand chances and never followed through. We never even kissed, Jake! You kissed everyone but me. What was I supposed to think?”

“I-I-I…damn it, Lily,” he growls. “I couldn’t.”

 “Excuse me? You very much ‘could,’ you just didn’t want to. And that’s fine, you never owed it to me to reciprocate my feelings. Just don’t pretend—”

“Of course, I had feelings for you!” he yells.

I’m stunned into silence.

“I had feelings for you since we were 12! You were the first girl I ever really thought of in that way and I had no idea how to deal with it. And the moment you showed any interest in me I panicked and pushed you away. And I regretted it after and thought I’d ruined everything, but you came back, and I-I-I did it again. And again. Because my feelings for you scared the shit out of me.”

My heart is jackhammering now. I can barely breathe. “Why?”

“You were special. I couldn’t—I couldn’t ruin that…or you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense! You didn’t want to ‘ruin me’ so you broke my heart, over and over?”

“I didn’t deserve you. You were way too good for me and way out of my league.”

Flabbergasted, I blink at him. The pure insanity of this conversation has me whirling.

“But you kept flirting with me anyway, leading me on? You’d hug me, hold my hand…Lord, you even snuggled me and popped a fucking boner against me at that party freshman year…” I babble.

A blush floods his cheeks. “I was only 15, I-I-I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You knew enough to fuck Talia.”

He looks like I’ve struck him again, but I can see in his eyes he knows I’m right. Talia would forever be a sore spot between us.

“I was young. And dumb.”

“No shit. And it doesn’t track. You did the same with Tina, Heather, and pretty much any other girl who showed the slightest bit of interest in you. Everyone except me.”

“I know. I was wrong. I was in a…bad place.”

“I practically handed myself to you on a platter and you humiliated me. How do you think it felt that I was the only one you never…you just kept me dangling on a string,” I say, shaking with anger.

“I know,” he whispers, “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t…”

“Sure,” I shake my head and look away. I don’t know why I care so much. I shouldn’t. This is all ancient history, and maybe it is Liam’s doing for sucking me back into the past tonight, but for some reason it all feels like it happened yesterday.

“I knew it was wrong, that I was treating you badly, a-a-and that’s why I found God. I wanted to be better…for you.”

Something cracks inside of me at the gesture. It doesn’t make any sense—why would he do that for me? My breath starts to falter a bit.

I remember he had changed dramatically mid-sophomore year, turning into a nicer, happier, and kinder version of himself. He’d stopped going after every girl in sight and wasn’t blatantly ignoring me anymore. We’d become friends again. I’d thought he was swept up in wanting to hang with the cooler, older Christian kids in the group, bowing to a weird form of peer pressure, just as I had done.

Of course, my “conversion” had not stuck after everything that happened later, but that’s beside the point.

Slowly, pieces start falling into place. Things I’d never considered.  

“You didn’t. You did it for…me?” I say breathlessly. “That’s a pretty drastic thing for a 16-year-old to do…”

He nods.

A shiver runs down my spine.

“Why…why would you do something like that for me?” I hold my breath and quell the trembling of my hands by clasping them together.

In the heavy pause, it feels like all the air gets sucked out of the room, and everything else around us warps and stops.

“Because I was completely in love with you.”

My heart stops. “What?” I whisper.

This can’t be real.

But his eyes are as open and pleading as I’ve ever seen them, begging me to finally understand what he couldn’t impart all those years ago.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” I manage to choke out.

A pained look crosses his face. “I was too late.”

It’s like I’m 16 again, the way my heart is ready to explode while simultaneously being yanked from my chest. The air whooshes out of my lungs and I can’t bring myself to speak. All I can do is look over at him with questioning eyes.

“Me being such an asshole pushed you straight into his arms and by the time I came to my senses, it was too late. You’d fallen for him, even though he was with someone else,” he says bitterly.

He is not wrong. The whole reason Liam and I became friends in the first place was he listened to my heartbreak over Jake.

“So, I tried to be your friend instead. That was what you wanted, right? I thought maybe I could get closer to you and change your mind, talk some sense into you.”

I find my voice. “What are you even talking about? Liam and I were very much not together that spring and summer because of Melissa. You had the perfect chance, but you started dating Tiffany right when school got out.”

His jaw sets, clenches. “Oh, come on. It was beyond obvious you weren’t over him. So, yeah, when Tiffany showed interest, I gave it a chance. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You probably don’t remember how I messaged you all the time. How our conversations got longer a-a-and deeper. How I begged you to call me.”

Vague memories flash back to me. “I did call you. And I definitely would’ve remembered you telling me this!” I shake my head.

He has no idea how this revelation would have changed everything. God, I can’t breathe.

            “I tried to feel you out that fall, but you were pretty focused on Liam.”

            Mind racing, I try to remember how it all went down. My attraction to Liam had been all-consuming, made worse by the way we desperately tried to keep our hands off each other when Melissa left for college. We weren’t officially together, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that we were mad about each other. Between that, the play, and keeping my grades up, things were intense that fall, to say the least. But there had been some weird moments with Jake that I’d tried to brush off as friendly at the time, but maybe they weren’t.

            “Friendsgiving.” It pops into my head suddenly, and I look at him with wide eyes. “I couldn’t figure it out—you went out of your way to take me home that night, then you were so teasing and flirty. We sat in my driveway for like half an hour. You couldn’t keep your hands off me—tickling me and putting your arm around me. I thought it was strange…but you were with Tiffany. I convinced myself I was imagining it.”

            It starts to dawn on me that perhaps my instincts had been right this whole damn time.

            I ramble as I recall more, “You were so obsessed about Mick having to kiss me for the play. We talked about how weird it would be if you had to understudy and it was us who had to kiss instead.”

            Jake looks at me sheepishly. “I wanted to kiss you so badly.”

            “God, why didn’t you?!”

            “You were in love with Liam!”

            “You are still such an idiot. Did you not hear anything I’ve said to you? If you’d kissed me, it wouldn’t have mattered. You were always there in the back of my mind. It was always you.” My hands are trembling at the admission, at how easily I would’ve folded if he had come for me.

            His eyes narrow, almost incredulously, as if he can’t believe it.

            “That’s all I ever wanted, Jake—for you to care enough to show me, or tell me, or anything at all! To fight for me…for us. But you never had the balls to do it, and that’s why we never happened. Not because of Liam. Not because I didn’t feel the same way. Because of you,” I say, voice shaking as hard as my hands.

            I’m coming apart at the seams, unravelling for the second time tonight because of men who never truly understood me or put me first. Refusing to cry in front of Jake and let him know just how much he’d changed with his inaction, I stand too quickly, wobbling on my feet.

            Jake jumps up to steady me, one hand at my forearm and the other at my waist, touching me for the first time in over 20 years. My stupid body responds with a jolt of electricity now just as it did then, like a phantom limb come to life. Logic tells me to pull away.

I don’t.

            He steps closer. “I’m sorry,” he whispers into my hair, “I feel like all I’ve ever done is hurt you, and I hate myself for it.”

            Oh, god. His proximity is dizzying, a reminder of moments long gone. A whiff of cologne. The way his thumb gently rubs the dip of my waist through my dress. The not-so-subtle way he lures me in closer.

            I don’t understand. How is it after the decades of life that have occurred, after having my heart swell and break and swell again with different types of love, that this man still can send me reeling?

            And he’s right—all he’s ever done is hurt me and tie me in knots. Being near him is like being edged in the most painful of ways because there is never any payoff. He had seen to that.

            There is something inherently cruel in the fate of it all. How the moment I had moved on all those years ago, the moment I released my hope of being with him and found another, that was when he figured his shit out. The worst part used to be feeling like he’d never felt the same about me, but knowing now that he loved me somehow makes everything ache even worse than it did before.

            Tears sting the corners of my eyes, even though I promised myself long ago I’d never shed another tear over Jake. I hate he will forever be the one that got away. The one who I’d never felt closure with, like a scab that crusts over but won’t heal underneath. As stupid as it sounds, there has been a part of me since the moment he so sweetly helped me solve a math problem in the 7th grade that has unwillingly left a piece of my heart in his hands ever since, no matter how many others there have been to take his place in between.

            And I hate him for that. I hate him even more now that I know I was always right about us from the start, about the thread of connection that bound us to each other almost 30 years ago.

“Does it even bother you? The ‘what could have been?’ Did it cross your mind that maybe everything would be different if you’d just said something? Or did you just forget about me, about all of it?” I whisper angrily.

God knows, I haven’t.

Furious and frazzled, I press my hands into his chest to push away. It’s a terrible move because his large hand covers mine, pinning it to him. He’s warm through his dress shirt and his heart beats wildly under my palm. My eyes fly up to meet his.

“I think about it all the time. More than I should. But God works in mysterious ways,” he says, as if that explains it all.

I roll my eyes. Another wonderful excuse. “I guess he does,” I add sarcastically.  Extricating myself from him, I immediately feel clearer, but part of me wants nothing more to feel his touch on me again. I shake the feeling off.

I had abandoned religion and the guilt and bigotry that came along with it the moment I got to college, when I realized just how much it had fucked my young brain up. Not shockingly, the religious friends who’d taken such offense when I’d gotten together with Liam were the same ones who quickly fell out of my life once they realized I wasn’t going to tow the line. Jake had only dug his heels in deeper into his religion after that, with Tiffany and his cookie-cutter perfect family and church going ways, and now it crosses my mind that it’s all because of me.

Don’t be stupid.

He’s waiting on me to say something. It takes me a moment to absorb the fact that he admitted thinking about me more than he should. This good and pious Christian man was thinking about me when he should have been thinking about his wife.

But I am in no place to judge. Not about this.

I want to know what salacious thoughts have run through his mind about me, but I can’t bring myself to ask. Part of me wants to utterly ruin him in all the ways I couldn’t when we were teenagers. A heat gathers low in my belly at the thought, at his nearness.

Romantic and physical chemistry is no joke, I realize. It’s like my pheromones were preprogrammed by the universe to be attracted to his, and by the cautiously heated look he’s giving me now, I’m wondering if it’s always been the same for him.

One of my biggest regrets about us, since the beginning, was the question that if we had even just kissed once and got it over with, would it have broken the tension between us like a summer rainstorm breaks the heat? Would we have gotten it out of our system and figured out if whatever chemistry we had was real or just something we’d worked up in our imaginations?

But it’s too late for that. The past can’t be changed. Now the ‘what if’s’ that plagued me for all these years hurt worse than before, knowing that with one stupid admission or one kiss all those years ago, we could have had it all. Maybe we would have been the high school sweethearts who got married and annoy our 2.5 kids with stories about what an idiot their dad was until he’d finally told me how he felt.

There would’ve been no me-and-Liam, or him leaving me because the world had gone to shit. I wouldn’t have met my husband. All of it, an entire life I’ll never know, flashes before my eyes and nearly brings me to my knees.

And while I don’t subscribe to his God, I do think the universe puts things in our path. But what was the point of all this, then—of us never being the “us” we both know we wanted it to be? I just don’t see why this thing can’t seem to die and fade into the ether. He’s like a bad penny I can’t shake.

At least with Liam, there was closure. We had loved and dated and all of the milestones that go with that. Knowing Jake loved me doesn’t make me truly feel any better, other than the fact I know I wasn’t a delusional, lovesick teenager.

But he loved a version of me that’s grown up into someone different, just as I begrudgingly loved a version of him that I’d made up in my head to be better than he was.

I’ve been quiet too long. “Why?” It pops out of my mouth unwillingly. “Why do you still think of me?”

“Do you still think of me?” I expect him to shirk away from the question, but he flips it on me so fast I have whiplash.

I close my mouth, my eyes darting away, answering his question.

He nods. “Then you know.”

Does that mean he replays fuzzy memories of interlocking his fingers with mine or pulling me too close in a dance? He sees the stolen, meaningful glances in his mind’s eye? He thinks about the multitude of chances he had to press his lips to mine but didn’t and what may have happened if it had gone farther than that? He thinks of how if he and I became a “we” it would’ve completely altered the course of our lives?

I have trouble thinking he ponders any of that.

But if he loved me like he says he did…

The hollow ache in my heart is back with a vengeance, erasing all hope I had at getting out of here relatively unscathed.

“Maybe we were just destined to hurt each other. Maybe we’ve always been bad for each other,” I say indignantly instead of voicing all the other thoughts buzzing in my head. But it feels true, nonetheless.

I watch him shake his head rather vehemently. He opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to the punch.

“But too bad we never had the chance to find out for sure,” I add with venom. After this, I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling like he stole that chance from me.

We were babies. Give the guy a break, a tiny voice in the back of my head chimes in.

            Unfortunately, I’m a little too emotionally wrecked to let a silly thing like logic get me back on track and remind me I’m a goddamned adult.

            Star-crossed lovers aren’t real. “Meant to be” isn’t real. Threads of fate tying us together in inexplicable ways aren’t real. What’s real is hormones and youth and cowardice and terrible timing. What’s real are jobs and spouses and children.

            Then why can’t I shake the feeling that this isn’t even close to being the end for us? It makes no sense.

            It never has.

            I grab my purse. Furious and regretful, I can’t be around him anymore, which is made evident by the fact that I want to stay so badly, even if it means my heart is bleeding out in front of him. But I have more self-respect now than I had when I was 16, and I certainly am not going to cry in front of him.

            “Goodbye Jake. I hope your life is everything you want it to be. Give Tiffany my best.” It’s a dig, to be sure. We both know Tiffany wants nothing to do with me, and now I finally know why. I turn and walk away, quickly, escaping my past down the darkened hallway towards the bathrooms.

            “Lily, wait,” he commands from behind me, catching up and grabbing my hand. Shocked at his tone of voice and forwardness, I have no choice to spin back to him. His eyes are blazing.

            “What? What is there left to say?” I say, my voice cracking with emotion. “That one of my biggest regrets is that we never made this work, this—this silly pseudo-romance from our teens? That I hate how much this matters to me, even now, even though I haven’t seen you in years?”

            He advances, his eyes never leaving mine, and a small huff escapes my lips as my back hits the wall. It’s hard not to notice he’s broader and taller than he used to be as his body comes so close to pressing against mine. Every one of my nerves sparks to attention at his sudden proximity, a buzzing static electricity.

His hand clasps my neck, the rough pad of his thumb trailing along my jaw. I have no choice but to keep looking up at him, into those darkened brown eyes.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

Shock precedes a pool of fire low in my belly when he boldly brings his thumb to the center of my lips and slowly drags it down. My lips part and a small moan escapes them. I’m vaguely aware of my purse hitting the floor with a thunk.

“What I should’ve done a long time ago,” he says definitively. His warm breath tickles my cheek where his mouth hovers too close to mine.

As my body fully kicks into overdrive, I’m reminded of what I’ve always known: I’m incapable of resisting Jake Lawson. One last rational thought pushes through the fire that is rapidly consuming me.

“This is a bad idea,” I pant, my eyes scanning his face.

“A terrible one,” he agrees, and when he nods, his nose brushes against mine.

I expect a crash of lips and teeth, but instead his soft lips brush mine tantalizingly, dragging in a way that sends an explosion of heat through my chest. The warmth of our breath mingles, and I can’t stop the way my hands instinctively reach for the lapels of his jacket. His hand on my neck pulls me closer and when our lips finally press together in earnest, oh, god, it’s everything I’d ever hoped it would be.

Instead of breaking away, we are pulled into each other by some unknown force that makes my entire body tingle from head to toe. Jake deepens the kiss, and I turn as pliable as putty in his arms, wondering how it is possible that we went this damn long without doing this. His fingers tighten in my hair, eliciting a groan as his mouth opens and his tongue persuasively brushes against my lips. Granting permission, I open to him further and our tongues roll gingerly against each other.

Something ignites in me that hasn’t in a long, long time. It’s a blast of desire and truth so strong it threatens to undo me. It’s different than pure passion—there’s a yearning, a need, a rightness lacing every touch between us. And based on the way he clings to me now, I have no doubt he feels it, too, this sense of fate that we were always destined to end up here.

Every instinct I have wants to feed the fire that is swirling in my belly, but the last thread of rationality left in me reminds me that I shouldn’t let this go too far. It has gone too far already. I force myself to pull away, which is like prying two strong magnets off each other. I can’t move more than an inch, just enough to separate our lips. I’m too dizzy with the smell of him and what must be a lack of oxygen. Or maybe it’s because my entire world feels upended.

His forehead rests on mine, his thumb caressing the hollow of my throat. “Shit,” he sighs out with a shudder, his breath tickling my face as he struggles to control himself.

For once in my life, I have no doubt of what he’s feeling. The way he says that one word tells me he is every bit as blindsided, connected, and aroused as I am. But it’s more than just that. A tether of knowing has tightened between us. It’s so overwhelming I feel like I might cry.

As we stand pressed close together in this dark hallway, I don’t think either of us truly expected it to feel like this. Like everything that’s been wrong between us was because we resisted this bond, a power that feels beyond anything I could have imagined. In mere moments, we’ve confirmed what both of us have inherently known but tried to ignore for almost three decades.

That’s when I realize we’ve opened Pandora’s box. We can never go back.

“Jake…” I choke, trying to get the words out, but they won’t come.

“I know,” he responds solemnly, and I have no doubt he has come to the same conclusion as I have:

We are in deep trouble.

*

taglist

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[synthshenanigans]

Been attempting to remake Voice for a bit and while they still have no set outfit (or story/idea) i still miss him

[userttpd]

Coming off anon to thank you for your recs! I randomly started your list with Service the girl and it was honestly a spiritual experience: the spot on characterisation?? Buffy's desperate attempts at numbing her feelings?? The way they try to hide the many layers of their relationship behind the kinkiness?? And it's honestly so rare for this raging lesbian to like smutty straight scenes, but they were so well written. You have impeccable taste. I'll be back for more unrequested reviews xx

omg hi! thank you for the review, I'm glad you started reading the list!

i actually re-read that one recently to make the list and you're spot on. there's something about s6 dynamic that's so rich to read, especially since sex is basically how spuffy can be honest with each other. as a lesbian myself, I don't think anything can explain why I'm so obsessed with this straight couple but I might just die for them

[qqpoetry]

he goes to his father candles

his hands near the flame.

closer. closer.

but it is not enough.

it never is.

the day arrives.

icarus lays on the table

this may burn, daedalus says.

icarus does not feel it.

nor does he hear his father's other warning.

or he does. regardless,

Today he will meet her.

He is soaring.

He can feel the warmth of her,

Her light on his cheeks.

Icarus climbs higher.

Daedalus speaks

The heat of her makes candles cold and lifeless,

Her radiance dims the world to gray.

Higher.

My son i cannot lose you, too

Wax streaks along his back like fire,

Like being alive for the first time.

DAEDALUS BELLOWS

Like love.

he is falling now

of course

still he turns

ever towards her

no thoughts spared

for earth below

'til fear takes him for the first time:

when he hits the ground

he has to close his eyes.

[dolores-hazy]

A blank check of sorts for your “Song Writing” ask:

https://youtu.be/2bLDIfh22uM

Let me start by apologizing

For all the things I almost said

Choked down and drowned

In tears--so much you might have known

But I found not worth the words

The heart is an untamed beast after all

Craving careless of convention or convenience

I could've spilled my guts and for what?

You never needed my heartsick serenade

Piled on your already packed plate

Calendar crammed, other dates to keep

Hands full and never meant to be

Filled with (feeling around for) me

I got lost in feelings futile

Full of longing most fruitless

I failed myself

Now I flail miserably

For the beast awakened

Sleeps not easily nor tight

Sedation sounding

Most seductive

One last kiss

Goodnight

[lemonysnicket]

actually i had a nice day :) just a solid good day. that hasn’t happened in a while. i love this gay earth <3