#I have another one in the drafts which is closely linked and when I have inspo and time will be finished hopefully soon

[val-cansalute]

Can u do a drabble or hcs on cuddling Ellie?

Ur writing is so good I love everything U write :>

WREATHE

warnings: not much, mostly fluff, basically the rq, mdni with my account tho😏

a/n: IM SO SORRY THIS HAS BEEN IN MY INBOX FOR I KID YOU NOT LIKE HALF A YEAR IM GENUINELY SO SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME 😰 thank you so much for sending the rq even though i took the piss responding, also this is a drabble bc i don’t think i’d be good at doing hcs 😭 i have some shit coming up at uni so i prolly won’t put anything out for a while but i have an idea for a new fic in the drafts !!! very excited…

ramadan has started which means israel’s violence against the Palestinian people will worsen as it does every year, purely for the sake of inflicting even more psychological torture on them. please, now more than ever, pray for them if you’re religious, talk about palestine, boycott, protest, strike, donate if you can, contact the people in charge. don’t let people forget. here’s a link to some details on the situation. everybody stay safe 💗.

10:47 - you return from a strenuous day of patrol and odd jobs around Jackson. You’re slightly tipsy, a drink or two from the Tipsy Bison churning a pool of warmth within your stomach.

The place is stagnant when you push the door open, as if coming home to nobody.

Ellie must’ve gone to bed early today.

You drift to the bathroom despite the fact that the house feels apocalyptic, and sit in the gentle rush of water, scrubbing your skin weakly with aching arms.

When you enter your room, everything is still, except for the rhythmic rise and fall of Ellie’s figure beneath the covers on the bed backed against the wall.

You throw the dampened towel that is slung over your shoulder carelessly and walk over to the bed, gently settling beside her.

For a while, you feel content. Sleep is lulling you in, the room is shadowy, the bed is warm, and the sound of Ellie’s deep-sleep-breaths (totally not snores at all, she swears) are soft like TV static in the back of your mind.

Your eyes are on the verge of fluttering close for the last time tonight so you turn onto your side and nestle into the crook of your shoulder.

Then, there’s a harsh jolt and the bed shifts. You can feel Ellie’s puzzled gaze raking over you, the realisation that you’re home setting, and your lips twist into a smile subconsciously. The night rarely ends without the inebriating buzz of affection.

A quiet sigh escapes the enclosure of her blush-pink lips before she reclines into the pillows once more, eyes never leaving the still curvature of your figure. Not a moment passes and her arms encircle your waist, warmth embracing your torso and pressing against your hair like a wreathe of absolute comfort.

A barely audible mumble tickles the helix of your ear,

“Hey, babe,” accompanied by the phantom touch of her lips against your cheeks in her half-asleep state. You scrunch your nose before turning into the love she offers you.

“Hey, Els.”

You begin to mumble butterfly details about the happenings of the day as you feel the surface of her skin raise with goosebumps under the delicate tracing of your fingertips - down her bare thighs, along the round of her hip, along her stomach and under her boobs - easing airy chuckles out of her.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Hm? Nothin’…”

You can already picture the smirk on her dazed face,

“Ya sure there? You want somethin’, babe?”

A playful scoff and she’s looking at you with feigned shock against the weight of tired eyelids,

“Can’t I feel you? I just wanna be close to you,”

“I’d say we’re pretty close, ya know?”

“Never close enough,” you clarify and the rasp of her laugh fades into silence and she presses a kiss onto your head, and then another, straining her neck till she’s face to flushed and grinning face, stringing a blizzard of soft, dewy kisses across it.

“Alright, alright!”

“One more- mwah,” she smacks her lips against your scrunched up mouth aggressively, leaving a gross patch of saliva, and smiles dumbly to herself, tightening the hold of her arms around you to which you groan.

Tight against her gentle sway, she mutters a quiet confirmation,

“Never close enough,” and then runs the rough pads of her fingertips along the expanse of your skin, lingering a moment on your thighs.

It’s like the rustle of a spring breeze and it draws your eyes to a close.

As you drift further from the surface, you feel the soft tingle of Ellie’s foot nudging your ankle and the distant haze of her voice whispering,

“You sure you don’t want anything, baby?” and you’re asleep.

also, absolutely no one asked for this but here are some pictures of my fat ass cat (cutest patootie evah 😆😆):

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie fluff #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams tlou #fanfic #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader #ellie smut #ellie williams smut #tlou part 2 #the last of us #drabble #the last of us x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #cocteau twins #lesbian #gay #ellie williams headcanons

[thesakuragarnet]

Crimes Of Passion (Dabi X Fem! Reader)

Summary: It's been a decade since your best friend, Toya Todoroki, perished at the hands of his own Quirk. You always liked to think he was watching over you, looking over your shoulder, keeping you out of harm's way in a guardian angel sense. After all, you'd devoted your life to making equipment to ensure that never happened to anyone else. But lately, you've felt like you're ACTUALLY being watched.

[Part one of my Yandere Dabi X Support Course Graduate Fem!Reader mini series]

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! S3XUAL TAGS WILL BE HIDDEN BELOW THE KEEP READING BUTTON!

Non-Spicy Tags: canon-typical v!0lence, swearing, smut, Yandere-ish Dabi, childhood friends, innuendo, stalker/feral Dabi, Support Course Graduate Fem!Reader, Second Person POV

Word Count: 2,435 words

AO3 link

Spicy Tags: slight dubcon, sexy in theory problematic in practice, explicit s3xual content, vag!nal fingering, dirty talk, making out, dubcon kissing, alley s3x, quirk use during s3x, c0me eating, cr3ampie, cunn!lingus, vag!nal s3x, semi-public s3x

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

You were working late at the office again. You'd spent all night drafting plans for your latest creation; it was a special request from a client. This Support Item would help the user maintain their body temperature...something that you took close to heart. Your best friend could've used such a thing...maybe if he had, he'd still be alive. Everyone else had already left. It was too far to walk home. You'd have to take the night train. 

...

It's hard for you to not fall asleep as you lean your head up against the window, eyelids drooping as the train runs through the dark tunnels beneath the city. In fact, you barely noticed when the group of shady-looking men got in the same train car as you. A chill runs down your spine when you hear them whispering to one another, and, instantly, you're wide awake. You look outside, realizing your stop is next. Something is telling you to get off the train ASAP...to get away from these men. As soon as possible. The car screeches to a stop, and, without a second thought, you bolt off the train. You didn't live in the best part of town, and the street is dimly lit when you exit the subway. You steal a glance over your shoulder...and realize they're following you. 

'Fuck.' 

Your mind starts racing, trying to think of a way to lose them. They're getting closer...walking faster. Immediately, you dart into a side alleyway, hoping to lose them through the side streets...only for it to be a dead end. You turn around, and they're closing in...

THUD. 

Out of nowhere, a figure leaps down from the rooftops, landing unnaturally gracefully in front of you. The stranger is tall, dressed in all black, and, in the dim moonlight, you see his hands. Scars trace down his arms, stopping at his wrists, which are full of crude surgical staples. 

"I suggest you four go back the way you came," The figure orders. His voice is deep and raspy...kinda sexy. The thugs are unimpressed. 

"What the hell are you?"

"Your face makes me wanna puke!"

"Keep looking at me like that and I'll kill ya!"

They start jeering, continuing to move closer. The mysterious figure raises his arm, and, suddenly, a brilliant cerulean glow flickers off the alleyway walls. 

"You're not going to touch her," He orders coldly. The men laugh. 

"Oh, yeah? And who's gonna stop us?"

FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

You scream as the rush of heat and light surges through the alleyway; a frighteningly powerful blue blaze erupts from the man, engulfing the group immediately in flames. Their shrieks of pain are rather short, and the light dies down to flickers and embers within a few seconds. The smell of burned flesh fills the air, and smoke begins to rise. 

"That answer your question?" The man chuckles under his breath, putting his hand back down. He shakes his wrist, and you notice it's smoking. The man turns on his heel, and your eyes widen. His face looks like a mess of patchwork scars and staples, sweeping under his eyes, over his cheekbones, and around his neck. 

"Stay away from me!" You shout, reaching for the pepper spray in your purse as your bones shake. Terror fills your lungs along with the smoke and ashes. 

"What? No 'thank you'? I just saved your life," The figure pouts mockingly, staring into your soul. His eyes are as blue as the flames that shot out of his hand. 

Something about this man...is hauntingly familiar. The way he speaks to you seems unnaturally natural. It's not in the way a stranger would. 

"Who are you?" 

"You'd think you'd recognize your guardian angel when you see him in person. That's what you call me, right? At least when you talk to yourself, acting like I'm some imaginary friend sitting on a cloud over you. Well...," He smirks, taking a threatening step closer. You freeze. 

"Toya?"

"In the burned flesh," He grins sarcastically, gesturing to his scars. 

"That's impossible. My best friend is dead," You stammer, but the longer you look at him, the less you believe your own words. 

Those eyes. The mannerisms.

"Come on, princess."

You hate the way your body responds to that word. The way it shakes you to your core when it rolls off his tongue. 

"You know it's me," He sings, a cruel smirk on his face as he walks forward, forcing your back against the wall. You gulp, feeling your heart race faster and faster. His glowing cerulean eyes bore into you. 

"Am I making you uncomfortable," The villain sneers, looking down at you with a hungry gaze. Lust. Obsession. Greed. You wordlessly shake your head. This shouldn't turn you on. This should make you run away screaming, absolutely terrified. It partially did terrify you...but...in a sickly thrilling way. The overwhelming familiarity and tension...you're spellbound. 

"All you have to do," He murmurs, slowly leaning down, hands moving to splay out on each side of your head, "is tell me 'no'."

You close your eyes, and you feel his lips meet yours. The moment you give in, kissing him back, you feel his hands on your shoulders...squeezing them tightly over and over...as if he's trying to restrain himself from tearing you apart. You reach up, running your hands through his hair, and a chuckle rumbles in his throat as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him. His tongue flicks against your lip, and the moment you give even a hint of admittance, he practically sticks it down your throat. A strangled whimper muffles in your throat in surprise, and you melt into his arms, trying not to slide down the wall as you feel your legs turning to jelly. The feeling of his impossibly warm tongue tracing along your own makes your eyelids flutter, and when you two part, a strand of saliva connects your lips. He traces kisses down your jaw before roughly pushing your hair back and ever so softly sinking his teeth into your neck. You sigh, feeling his fingers wander down your body, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of you. Slowly, they dance further and further south...pausing just above the waistband of your panties. Gently, he slips his hand below them, and you gasp as his fingers trace your slit. 

"Fuck, you're wet, princess," He shudders, sucking on your neck harder, and his other hand presses into your back, grabbing a fistful of your clothing. 

"Toya," You moan softly, "We shouldn't be doing thi-"

"Shut up," He rasps harshly in your ear before effortlessly pressing a finger inside you, "If you don't like what I'm doing then tell me. I'll stop."

You take a deep breath, focusing on the feeling of his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit as he curls his fingers intentionally. Another moan crawls out of you before you can restrain yourself, and you give in to the temptation. Everything he's doing feels so good. No one's ever touched you this way before. No one's ever made your heart race quite like this. It's exhilarating. He plants more kisses on your neck, borderline groaning into each kiss, the subtle noises vibrating against your skin. 

"You taste so fucking good," He hums between sloppy kisses, tracing his tongue up the side of your neck as you feel warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach. "God, the things I wanna do to you."

It sounds like a threat, a promise, and a desperate plea all in one. It shouldn't, but it gives you butterflies. 

"Like what?" You sigh, hooking your fingers into his loose belt. He jerks ever so slightly, as if the touch caught him completely off guard. You pause, worrying you've overstepped a boundary, but he soon leans forward, as if begging you to continue. 

"Tell me what you wanna do, Toya," You murmur as you trace your fingers below, and you feel his arousal through his jeans. 

"I wanna drown you in pleasure until you can't stop begging me for more," He whispers in your ear, "I wanna make you come until you can't fucking think." 

Zzzzip. 

His breath hitches as you unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, pulling out his throbbing cock. Without a second thought, he pulls his fingers out of you and forces your pants down until they fall to your ankles. 

"I owe you, right?" You huff as he looks into your eyes, and he grins deviously. 

"I've wanted to fuck you so bad, princess," Toya rasps, his gravelly voice tingling your ears as his hot breath pants against your skin. You feel his hands reach underneath you, gripping the flesh on your ass as he picks you up, firmly pressing your back against the wall. You flinch when he presses the tip against your entrance. It's hot. Not too hot...but hot. 

"I'm gonna burn you from the inside out," He murmurs, his deep voice tilting on a villainous laugh. Your eyes widen, heart racing. When he notices, he clicks his tongue. 

"Just a figure of speech, princess. I'd never hurt you...not unless you wanted it," He snickers before slowly lowering you down onto his cock. You gasp as he slides in, eyes rolling back in your head. It's bigger than you expected. It feels like he's practically splitting you open, and the pain is daunting. Nonetheless, you can't help but crave more. You want him to break you. You want him to shove it as far as it'll go. You want him to rearrange your guts until your mind turns to mush. 

"Easy there, gorgeous," He purrs, gritting his teeth as he carefully forces himself all the way inside you. He shudders, and you manage to kick your pants all the way off before wrapping your legs around his waist, locking him inside. 

"Good girl," Toya groans, his lips curling into a predatory smirk as his eyes soften. He looks completely devoted. Consumed by twisted passion. His fingernails dig into your hips, threatening to break the skin. 

"My good girl," He adds before roughly planting his lips on yours. His tongue traces across the roof of your mouth, claiming every inch. Then, he starts thrusting up into you, and you practically see stars. The pain mixes with pleasure, shocks spreading from between your thighs as he fucks you, his breath panting in your ear as he presses himself against you. You can feel the heat coming off of his body. It's enough to make you feel like you're sweating. The sounds of his balls slapping against you with every deep, intense roll of his hips reaches your ears. If anyone else is out this late, all they have to do is turn the corner, and they'll see you getting railed by a murderer beside a sea of ashes. It's taboo. Everything about this screams wrong to you. This is Toya. Your best friend. Your dead best friend. Who seems to be psychotically obsessed with you in the most primal way. But...it all feels so right. You've never felt such gnawing pleasure in your entire life. It's coursing through your veins, boiling in your blood, beating in your heart and throbbing in your nethers. 

"Toya, don't stop," You plead pathetically, the raunchy moan seeming to drive him wild.

"Such a pretty little voice," He laughs darkly in your ear before deliberately picking up his rhythm, pounding into you. Your head spins, trying to decide whether or not the pain overshadows the pleasure. It feels like he's going to rip you apart from the bottom up. His thrusts become haphazard, and his voice becomes needy.

"Fuck," His voice breaks into a soft whine as you feel the warmth spreading inside you, filling you up. Breath hisses through your gritted teeth. You're so pent-up. You're far from your orgasm, despite how much you're enjoying this. Toya pulls back, his face inches away from yours, and he seems to notice your frustration. 

"No, no. We're not done. I'm not leaving until you've come for me," He sighs lustfully before adding, "Until I make you come for me."

You stare into those eyes again. Those burning beautiful blue eyes. 

"Besides," He pants as he slowly lifts you off of his cock, hands firmly gripping your ass, "We can't leave all that in there, now, can we?" 

Before you can register what's happening he lifts you up...and up...and up. He's surprisingly stronger than he looks...and he stops when your dripping slit is level with his face. You shake, partially terrified at how high you are off the ground, keeping your back pressed up against the wall. Your hands run through his hair, gripping to help ground you from the fear of falling. Toya looks up with an expression of pure worship, and you cry out as he dives between your legs, his warm tongue fully extended into you, working to lick you clean. The sounds are positively vile; the lewd slurping noises between your hips overpower all other sounds. You moan his name, your head leaning back against the wall as your eyelids flutter shut, focusing on the feeling of him devouring you. His tongue flexes, twisting in ways that seem improbable, leaving you whimpering for more. He laughs, his hot breath huffing against you as he presses his lips to your clit. You steal a glance to see his gaze fixated on you, staring into your fucking soul. His hands grip you rougher, making you wince as he suckles that sweet spot, tongue flicking against it in all the right ways. You feel yourself getting closer. His touch is so intoxicating. It's so otherworldly. It's so...good. You can't stop the sounds of pleasure coming out of your mouth, spilling from your lips like an ever-flowing waterfall. You feel the familiar clench in the pit of your stomach, and, suddenly, the climax hits you all at once. Your hands turn to fists in his hair, pulling him closer into you as you whimper and moan his name. Toya growls into your slit, the vibrations sending more sensations shooting through your body. Finally, you feel yourself coming down, and you release your grip on him. Toya leans back, looking up at you with dripping lips that he licks clean. He pants, as if out of breath, not breaking the haunting stare. 

"Do you want me to go back to watching in the shadows, princess, or can I get closer, now?"

#fanfic #my hero academia fanfiction #dabi #ao3 #ao3 writer #dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #dabi smut #touya x reader #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x you #bnha smut #my hero academia smut #mha smut #dabi my hero academia #smut #heavy smut #villain dabi

[scmoobly]

Wanna Be Yours | Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Even months after Bucky had rescued you from HYDRA, you still had a separation anxiety that made you paranoid when he wasn't around. And so did Bucky.

Content: [bucky being unable to stay away from you] [Comforting] [minor pining for each other] [alluding to s³x]

Warning: Mild mature themes

A/N: first buck fic😍✋️That I'm posting anyways. Not saying my draft isn't full of horndog shit BUT PLEASE PAY ATTENTION THIS PART IS IMPORTANT. Please watch this bucky edit before reading. It'll give you a visual of this fic. I'll leave the link in the comments as well so it's easier to copy. Okay, enjoy ♡ https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSNMdKCFQ/

Not proofread, Sorr :)

"Bucky."

"Hmm." A low grumble echoed from the other end of the call, the familiar rattle of his metal arm easing the anxiety in your chest.

"I miss you."

"I'm working." He responded with the same monotonous effect. He'd been dispatched on a mission nearby, along with Natasha Romanoff only about 20 minutes ago.

She was a glorified babysitter that Steve had assigned to accompany Bucky just in case he got himself in trouble.

As grateful as you were that they'd helped Bucky save you from HYDRA, you weren't that well acquainted with the avengers to know their relationship with each other so the fact that you were left at the tower alone while Bucky was out with someone else just didn't sit well in your stomach.

"I miss you." You repeated mechanically into the phone. It was a habit hard to kill even though it had been months since you'd been freed from the shackles Pierce constricted you in. You were no longer a soldier, but it wasn't like you could just turn off or forget years of torture.

When there was no response, you opted to repeat yourself another time before he interrupted you. "I miss y-" "I know."

You heard a soft sigh from the other line, a few minutes of silence passing before it disconnected with a distorted click.

•

10 minutes later

The door to Buckys bedroom swung open, revealing you sitting in front of it with your legs curled up to your chest, the same inexpressive look in your eyes as they looked up at him.

"How long have you been sitting here?" His brows knotted, and his forehead creased revealing a hint of worry. "Since you left." You answered to which he could only respond with a deep exhale.

Bucky walked closer to you, crouching down to your level before gently sliding a few strands of hair behind your ear, his thumb caressing the skin of your cheek with caution.

Leaning into his touch came much easier to you than most things. Having Bucky close was your only source of comfort after he'd rescued you. His presence grounded you in a whole new world that felt like it was caving in around you.

A world where no one knew who you were but him, and you depended on him to not forget yourself.

"Let's get you to bed." Before you could say anything, Bucky had already hooked his arms around your body, lifting you up with almost zero effort. Your own found their way around his shoulder, eyes glued to his stone cold expression as he moved you nimbly over to the bed and set you down.

"Are you hungry?" He questioned further while reaching for the covers to which you'd responded with a light shake of your head.

"Just missed you." A low hum erupted from the depth of his chest.

Pulling the covers over your legs Bucky sat himself down beside you on the edge of the bed, leaning his back against the headrest before stretching his hand out in your direction, lacing his fingers through your hair.

Forget the Avengers. Your own relationship with Bucky was a mystery, if not anything else. One thing was clear, though. You were definitely not friends. At least you didn't want to be.

The years you'd spent being tortured and trained at HYDRA's base was something only he had the capability to understand. Naturally, your heart ran to him to seek any kind of empathy or comfort, but you'd both been wrung so tight that any sense of emotional sensitivity had been drained from you almost completely.

It took him a long a while, but he'd warmed up to the Avengers, finding his old best friend in Steve, a good companion in Sam, and a supportive team in everyone else.

However, it wasn't so easy for you. Bucky was all you had, and you'd worried your dependence on him in trying to fit back into society would someday become too much of a burden. The vehemence of your affection for him seemed to be concealed by the expressionless look on your face and the thought that he would someday choose to want someone who showered him with love unlike you.

Little to your knowledge, Bucky had his own apprehensions when it came to you. He'd thought being around the Avengers who'd protect you at any cost would make you feel more comfortable and safe. That it would help you open up.

That was the reason he had insisted for you to stay at the tower after the rescue mission. Well. Half of it anyway.

He couldn't stand the thought of you being alone the way he was, holeing up within the dark confines of his room. As hypocritical as it was, he cared too much to see you turn into the version of himself that he'd barely managed to escape.

You deserve to feel the warm flutter of happiness in your body. You, more than him. More than anyone.

That's why he'd rushed back to the tower halfway through his mission after you'd called, leaving Natasha to deal with the aftermath.

He could almost still feel the wind on his face from how harshly he'd revved the engine of the Harley Davidson Street 750.

"Bucky?"

You whisper softly while looking up at him, your doe eyes making him take in a deep breath. "Y-yeah?" He didn't realise how long he'd been staring or how close you'd gotten, your breaths mingling with each other, caressing the others' skin and sending shivers up and down his spine.

Close. Too close.

Too close not to do anything about it.

His metal arm that had been stroking your hair slid down to hook around the back of your neck, the cold vibranium thumb tracing circles on your jaw, and you couldn't help leaning into the touch, sucking in a breath, you closed your eyes in contentment.

"Bucky.." You purred, your cheeks filled with unfamiliar heat. Blushing? Bucky was making you blush.

Meanwhile, Bucky seemed to be awestruck as he blinked in disbelief. "You.. smiled." It was brief, a very small one, but he definitely caught it, and suddenly he couldn't think of anything more beautiful than the sight of it.

He wondered what it would take to see your lips tug upwards just a little more. To hear you laugh if he was lucky enough.

Buckys mind was clouded. Filled with the image of heaven that you'd graced him with, and suddenly he was closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to your own.

"Smile for me, doll."

Your eyes widen when his lips finally pressed against yours, knocking the wind out of you. However, it only took a few seconds for you to melt into the sensation. You had been craving it after all.

Your body began to curl up in an effort to be as close to him as possible, fingers grazing the outline of his stubble. A muffled whine slipped from your lips, causing Bucky to chuckle into the kiss before parting only slightly, an adoring look in his eyes. One you couldn't fathom was meant for you.

"Somehow, that was even better." He cooed, sliding his hand down your arm, the side of your body before resting on your hips, giving it a little squeeze.

"Come here, babydoll." He murmured with a feverish look in his eyes, using both hands to hold onto your hips and move you to straddle his lap. The pet names only served to make your ears burn hotter.

As soon as he'd settled you on top of him, you could feel how tight his pants had grown around him. Your chest heaved up and down as the alien feeling of arousal bubbled in your stomach and in between your thighs, making you squirm and let out little mewls.

"Shh, shh.. calm down, sweets. I have you." It felt like his lips had been taped into a smile. He wanted to ingraine the faces you were making in the deepest part of his thoughts. "I'm right here." He continued, leaning close to leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck, pausing at your shoulder to breathe in your scent before continuing down your collarbone, your arm all the way down to the back of your hand.

"You smell intoxicating. And you taste even better." Your breathe hitches for the millionth time. There was nothing you could think to say in response to his sweet words. Your silence was fine with him, though, because you displayed your innermost feelings on your face, and it was all he needed.

With both hands, he pressed your hips down onto him, eliciting a gasp from you. "Mm. And those delicious sounds you make. You must be an angel given human form because you make me feel like I'm in seventh heaven-" Bucky huffed out the last bit, his own chest heaving in anticipation.

You'd already showed him more emotions in that very second than you had the last few months you'd spent with him, and he was more than eager to explore what more he could pull out of you..

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #james bucky barnes #james barnes #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fluff #bucky fic

[thefrogdalorian]

Hello and welcome to my contribution to Dincember!

Following NaNoWriMo (which I used to complete a draft of a modern AU!Din x reader fic that I aim to start posting in January) I wanted to attempt another writing project to maintain my sanity during this festive period! I'm aiming to complete all 25 days but life can sometimes be unpredictable, especially at this time of year.

I really hope you enjoy my interpretations of each prompt and best of luck if you're also participating, can't wait to see what everyone creates. Thanks @dindjarindiaries for putting these prompts together, celebrating all things Din is a wonderful way to close out the year!

All my fics are GN!reader and I don't include physical descriptions. Nothing more mature than a bit of smooching either :)

Happy Dincember, tumblr!

Link to read on AO3 | Link to read in Chronological Order

Day 1 - Snow: After a busy few months, Din surprises you and Grogu with a well-earned retreat to a snowy paradise in the run up to Life Day. Snow-filled chaotic fun ensues!

Day 2 - Fire: During a trip to a peaceful cabin with Din and Grogu, you awake one morning and discover that Grogu is poorly. You and Din are extremely worried but after a visit from a healer and the warmth of the fire you light, his condition soon improves.

Day 3 - Gloves: As you sit watching Grogu play by the fire while holding hands with Din, you reflect on how a simple part of his body says so much about the complex man that you are so privileged to love. A simple pleasure that you would have been denied, if he had never removed his gloves.

Day 4 - Lights: You introduce Din to a favourite Life Day tradition of yours: hanging up lights. It's a tradition that he finds slightly bemusing but after a slight hiccup which is soon resolved, thanks to the abilities possessed by Grogu, the two of you set about making a cheesy new Life Day tradition all of your own.

Day 5 - Cold: After your favourite Mandalorian's latest assignment with the New Republic means that his return to your cabin is delayed, you head to bed, thoroughly miserable. But when Din finally arrives home the reunion does not go entirely smoothly, as you find yourself needing to warm him up, with adorable consequences.

Day 6 - Gifts: It's Life Day and time for you and Din exchange gifts. You love sharing in the joy of seeing others surprised with your gifts, but nothing surprises you more than the incredibly thoughtful gift Din gives to you.

Day 7 - Star: As you lie on Din's strong chest, looking at the stars and reflecting how grateful you are that your paths crossed, you discover once again, that the man with the fearsome reputation is incredibly soft underneath his hard Beskar shell.

Day 8 - Flame: A fire pit outside your little cabin on Nevarro has always been a dream of yours. So, when Din finally agrees to build one, you are delighted, especially when he secures your favourite sweet treats too. But it's Din's first time roasting candy on a campfire and things don't exactly go to plan...

Day 9 - Boots: Raising a Force-sensitive child is not an easy task, especially one as mischievous as Grogu. When the little guy decides to play a game of hide and seek without telling you and Din first, you find him in a place that you would never have expected.

Day 10 - Sweater: After his latest job with the New Republic takes him away from your home, you find yourself missing Din terribly. But, despite how sappy and lame as you feel for doing so, you find wearing his sweater brings you a great deal of comfort when you need it most.

Day 11 - Icicle: An innocent icicle causes Din to reminisce on a moment he shared with Grogu on the Razor Crest shortly after rescuing The Child from the Imps on Nevarro.

Day 12 - Warmth: After you find yourself caught up in a rainstorm that drenches you to the bone on the forest planet you call home, an unexpectedly kind Mandalorian helps you to get warm again.

Day 13 - Family: Din Djarin is a complex man, with many walls you have not yet successfully broken down. You have been slowly building a life with the man who has a traumatic past he has alluded to, but never discussed in detail. One night, Din wakes up from a nightmare and finally lets you in. You comfort him, reminding him of your love for him and how much he deserves his unlikely family.

Day 14 - Home: During a moment cuddling with Din underneath the festive lights in your cabin, Din confides in you what home means to him.

Day 15 - Candle: Despite planning a special evening to mark your final night in the cabin that you, Din and Grogu have enjoyed a relaxing vacation in, your plans are soon thwarted by an unexpected power cut. However, the sudden loss of light ends up having very romantic consequences.

Day 16 - Sweet: After a tiring day of yard work, you decide to introduce Din and Grogu to one of your favourite festive drinks: hot chocolate. Although the sweetness proves a little too much for one of your Clan.

Day 17 - Joy: Despite you and Din having plans to go to a special festive market with Grogu, you wake up feeling awful, as though all festive cheer has been sucked out of you. Fortunately, you have a loving and caring Mandalorian who helps you regain your joy.

Day 18 - Snowflake: As Din stands by the window, watching the snow fall outside your cabin in the mountain paradise he brought you to for a vacation, he reveals a hilarious memory of his first encounter with snow to you. One that you are keen not to let him forget in a hurry.

Day 19 - Coat: You and Din arrive for a vacation in a picturesque snowy mountain town. There's just one problem: you brought the wrong coat. You head into town in search of the perfect coat but after a long day of fruitless searching, fortunately you have an incredibly patient and attentive Mandalorian to help you through the shopping stress.

Day 20 - Celebration: To show Din how much he means to you, you decide to make a special gesture in celebration of him by cooking him a traditional Mandalorian feast. Despite having your heart set on a perfect evening, a certain green child has other ideas...

Day 21 - Love: Despite how much time you have been spending with Din and getting to know him, you are still none the wiser as to whether your feelings for him are reciprocated. But an impromptu night of stargazing leads to a confession that may just change everything for the two of you...

Day 22 - Cozy: When Grogu wakes up upset in the middle of the night, both you and Din are concerned for him. But getting cozy and cuddling with his Clan soon brightens the little boy's mood.

Day 23 - Frost: You and Din wake up one morning to discover the volcanic planet you call home has been plunged into a deep frost. You are awestruck by the gleaming ground and the icy crystals that cling to every surface. You and Din decide to head out for a walk with Grogu, who is fascinated by the way his favourite pond has frozen over.

Day 24 - Ice: The unseasonably weather on Nevarro causes a pond to freeze and thanks to a stroke of good luck, a passing vendor is able to offer the opportunity to skate on it. You expect that Din will be a natural, but things do not go entirely to plan.

Day 25 - Holiday Waking up before Din on Life Day gives you the opportunity to admire all the little details and features of the man you love so much.

#do you like my moodboard i feel like i'm 12 again (in the best way) #life is full circle but you gotta get through The Horrors somehow #dincember #dincember 2023 #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #my fics #masterlist #pedro pascal characters

[callsign-bunnie]

Would you write Nikolai x Price?

Like something happens to Price and the 141 get to see Nik just go nuts to get him back? Laswel involvement ofc

If you want to

Another draft that I never posted

Also, I'm sorry it's not more involved, I'm not the best at writing long drawn out action scenes, try as I may, so I went with this, instead. I thought it'd be cute

--

36 hours. 

That’s how long it took Nikolai to find Price.

It had been almost exactly, just five minutes shy, of 36 hours from when it had been revealed that Price had even been taken. Gaz, Soap, and Ghost were still putting together clues to even find the fucking man, and Nikolai had brought him back without a damn scratch on him.

Of course, Nik was coated in blood. Laswell, herself, had a fair amount, but it didn’t compare to the sheer amount of blood that Nik had. 

All three had stood there, their mouths stupidly agape, as Nik and Laswell escorted Price back onto the base, Price grinning from ear to ear, and had watched the two bloody individuals drop into chairs, exhaustedly. “Will not make that mistake again.” Nik muttered, dropping a combat knife on the table.

Laswell? She just snorted as she dropped a handgun. Both were bloody. 

“I’m thinking a shower.” Price had chuckled, putting his hands on the back of Nik’s chair. Nik had just snorted. “Damn, guys, did you even look for me?” He’d joked to the three.

Even Ghost had looked… beyond shocked. But, eventually, he’d just crossed his arms, huffing. “We were starting the process. We didn’t even know where you were.”

“Only three people know where Price would be on a Sunday.” Nik muttered. “Me, Kate, and the bastard who grabbed him. It was… easy to find him. Child’s play.”

“Child’s play?!” Soap spluttered, shaking his head. “It was hardly a day and a half, Nik!”

“Would have been less.” Laswell commented, rubbing off what looked like dried blood on the back of her neck. “But the helicopter malfunctioned.”

Nik nodded, his expression solemn. “But we managed.”

Price beamed behind them, his expression full of pride and joy. “I’m a little disappointed you two rescued me so fast, I was almost to my good material. I’d only gotten past the ‘you won’t get away with this’ bit.”

Gaz shook his head. “Wait, wait. Nik how would you know where Price usually is on Sunday? Like you said, I don’t even know that.”

Nik blinked at him and then shrugged. “He gets tea and crumpets from the same little shop, and it’s always playing the last football game. He sets an alarm for 9 o’clock, hits the snooze button, and then sleeps in until 9:30, where he then finally gets up, takes a shower, and walks there. Of course, he almost always stops by this animal shelter to pet the dogs, which puts him at the cafe at 10:30.”

“God save us if you ever become an assassin.” Soap mutters, but Price’s grin only widened. “So… how did you find him?”

“Well, I knew who had to have taken him. An associate of Makarov, though I wouldn’t call him an ally.” Nik continued, accepting a towel from Laswell and wiping his face. “And I knew a chain of people to go through to get the location. Ultimately, it only took one chain link.”

“Either of you ever slowly dismember someone?” Laswell asked, leaning back in her seat. “It’s not for the weak of heart.”

“Or stomach.” Nik agreed. 

The lieutenant and two sergeants just stared, again. 

Price had finally sighed and leaned down to Nik. “My love, that shower?”

“I’m coming.” Nik nodded, standing, and both men exited.

Laswell had remained behind, chuckling at the three boys. “Close your mouths, boys. You too, Ghost, I can see the concave in your mask.” All three did as told, and she shook her head. “I knew as soon as Nik had been the one to find out that this would happen. Word of advice? Don’t fuck with someone who only has one thing to lose.” She had finally stood, neatly pushing in her chair, before bowing and leaving.All three had shared a look between them, silently agreeing to one thing. Price calling Nik my love had not been the strangest thing to happen in the last 36 hours.

--

I can't believe I don't have a Nikprice taglist. I mean, it makes sense, I never write them (I never get asks) but damn.

Do you want to be added to this taglist? Reply to this post that you wish to be added to the taglist and I will start to tag you in it every time I post it. You can also use this form!

#call of duty #nikprice #nikolai cod #john price #captain john price #john price cod #price cod #pricenik #Nikolai x John Price #John Price x Nikolai #oneshot #queue for dinner again honey?

[mybrainproblems]

hello, i'm finales georg...

i don't want to further clutter up the notes on this post while responding to the tags below but the persistence of the "finale is short/scenes are missing/extra ad break” conspiracies drives me absolutely bananas when i've watched the finale ten times and have posted about this A LOT trying to clear things up. (disclaimer that yes, i'm a goddamn destiel shipper but i care about Facts above all.)

ok but this is weird because i'd swear the episode was shorter (11 missing scenes!) but okay. maybe we all mandela effected ourselves into #beleving that. because it felt shorter. but i will die on the hill that it had another ad break. i understand this person has the thing #recorded with ads so i am thinking maybe different ad breaks in different idk time zones??? #because the finale did air an hour earlier in canada so maybe idk i am reaching here but maybe different states or whatever had different #ad breaks??? as for the last minute changes - wasn't the cover band asked for permission to use their version of carry on like a week before #the thing aired??? so even if the episode was 42 minutes and had no additional ad break - which i am side eying but lets say all was normal #i will always say they were changing thing until the absolute last minute (carry on my wayward son X 2 #the crew on the bridge which is not only giant 4th wall breaking but also wow they really got all those people in one place in times of #covid???) #anyway. tinfoil hat stays on sorry guys :/ (via @officialmisha)

short and snarky: there are plenty of real and sourced examples of network homophobia and scripted/directed destiel scenes being cut to point to. we don’t need to make this stuff up just bc the finale wasn’t what we wanted. so it’s not the mandela effect — it’s ppl repeating a conspiracy/rumor bc it supports their narrative and it’s easier and more fun to repeat something that supports a narrative they already believe (misha or something destiel was cut) vs the boring act of fact checking.

longer circumspect answer with links bc like many ppl i am in my debunking era and i rewatched "roblox_oof" last night.

like i said. i've watched the finale ten times. i’ve gone over the episode with a fine toothed comb and posted a detailed breakdown of timing marks on my blog. it’s actually extremely obvious where the ad breaks are once you know roughly where to look for them (they have a longer fade to black instead of a quick cut scene change). there’s no room for extra ad breaks and i think this conspiracy/rumor persists in part bc the episode feels so sparse in terms of cast and the fact that the episode’s momentum hits a barn post (and rebar) less than 20min into an hour-long programming block.

also i’m begging ppl to actually look at that timing mark post. it’s very straightforward and i spent a lot of time on it. i don’t care if ppl plagiarize it at this point if it means this conspiracy stops. i've got almost every second accounted for.

the "eleven missing scenes" that you're thinking of are probably from the finale script of questionable authenticity that @spnscripthunt acquired back in 2021 which can be found here. it's dated as the “final draft” from 11 sep 2020 and filming on 15x20 wrapped on 10 sep 2020. as noted at the bottom of this superwiki page "[the] script came from someone claiming to have been the person who did the closed captions for the show in Russia. There are some indications that it possibly may not be authentic, but this has not been confirmed."

if we go with the possibility that this was a transcript meant for subtitles, the "omitted" scenes were probably written but never filmed since it's the "final draft" and not a color revision (blue, green, yellow, etc). unfortunately, i’ve lost track of where i read it and a preliminary duckduckgo search isn’t bringing it up bc there's a program for script writing called final draft, but iirc the “final draft” version of a script is a transcript of what was filmed (e.g. there are parts of that 15x20 script that ended up being deleted scenes on the DVD). spnscripthunt also has an example of a confirmed final draft for 09x02 (funnily enough, also a dabb-penned ep). if anyone can confirm with a source that i have the purpose of the “final draft” version designation wrong, please let me know! i love being proven wrong with Facts.

i do want to acknowledge that the two “final drafts” do look different from each other and the 15x20 one doesn't look like a “real” final draft script since it lacks the revision/versioning dates that a script would normally have on the cover page. it could be that it was intended for subtitles; there's the chance it's been re-typed to anonymize it if there was anything indicating who the "owner" was, tho that seems a wee bit cloak and dagger to me. and again: it's considered of questionable authenticity. there are some things that don't quite line up but oh dear god i don't want to get even further out into the weeds than i already am.

i won't disagree that it's weird as hell that neoni only got asked about using their cover seven days prior to the episode airing (tiktok here). my personal theory is that they were hoping to get a more expensive song (maybe a zepp song, idk) and didn't manage to secure the rights in the end. again: this is pure conjecture on my part! but i could absolutely see someone working on the show hearing neoni’s cover and liking it and then maybe they were using it as a placeholder until it got down to the wire and they had to make a call/send the ep to networks. because yes, it is baffling they played a song and then a cover of it with only a 40 second break between. (i do actually really like the neoni cover! the placement is just weird and i think it could have worked if they had the kansas version at the beginning and closed with neoni's full cover.)

as to the 4th wall break COVID stuff: robert singer talked with variety magazine about filming the last two episodes and the logistics of filming during a pandemic. whether they should have been filming during a pandemic is a separate discussion but their use of office vs set pods, strict quarantining and daily testing meant that they had zero positive tests in the month they were filming (18 aug to 10 sep). so given all that, i personally don’t think it’s totally out of pocket to have everyone standing outdoors on a bridge for maybe an hour to get a drone shot of them together. (i won’t get into incubation periods and viral load, but if everyone tested negative that day and every day for a month prior, it was a fairly low risk scene to film outdoors and for all we know everyone was masked until the last possible second. there were plenty of outdoor masked protests in 2020 that weren't superspreader events.)

and before anyone brings up “but misha was in vancouver!” i know someone who looked into it and they said no dice, nothing matched up between the backgrounds in those pics and places in vancouver. his statements about “us” going back to set over the summer were pretty generic in hindsight and “we”/"us" could be him or the spn crew generally. unfortunately i’m not able to find those tweets but the use of “we” was likely so as not to give away he wouldn’t be returning to set. (bc we were absolutely casbaited!) and bc it comes up a lot: the "onion field pic" was from when they were filming 15x17 and was not taken while filming 15x19 and 15x20.

besides, it would be ridiculous to go through the financial and logistical headaches of bringing someone into the country to film during a pandemic, only to cut their scenes in the end! honestly, the script is pretty tight when the scenes are given so much breathing room! the only thing i could see being further cut down is The Monologue and even then, i don’t think there was any intent to cut it down given it was filmed in fairly long takes.

i’ve said it many times before, but i believe the finale was fucked long before they returned to set. walker got the green light in sep 2019 and it was being marketed heavily as a “follow on” show to spn given jared’s involvement. the demo they were courting for walker has little to no overlap with the demo for destiel fans — why would they want a finale that catered to a demo they weren't interested in courting? we just went through a historic double strike that exposed so much of the rot of business interests overriding creative vision. this isn't completely unfounded conjecture.

i will not apologize for the length of this bc i wanted to be thorough, but i do want to give context that i think the reason these conspiracies and rumors grind my gears so much is because anyone can fact check all of this. the truth is out there and absolutely none of it is that hard to find. the most time consuming/difficult part of this was finding someone who had a DVR’d copy of the finale from when it aired live and they actually found me themselves after i’d been low key asking around for a year!

and like. i get it. conspiracies are fun. but there are so many sourced instances of network homophobia and destiel being cut that it's like. why is this something folks are hanging onto? the cw is notorious for having upper level meddling with finales bc there's a follow-on show they want to shuffle fans along to and spn is no exception.

#this is my personal bugbear / debunking hill to die on #it's so easy to disprove and has been disproved for so long at this point and it just keeps. on. getting. repeated. #finales georg #destiel #spn #unfortch most destiel folks don't venture outside the ship harbor and this has been LONG debunked by w/incest blogs #as in like. days after the rumor first started circulating in nov/dec 2020. (and it takes next to nothing!) #i'm a more recent arrival to the fandom (feb 2021) which i think gives me a bit more distance being able to watch the finale 10 times lol #but like. it is RIGHT THERE. folks don't even have to watch the ep. just pull it up on netflix/DVD/whatever to see the runtime. #the 'new post' button is right there. screencap my post and dismiss the effort i've put in somewhere i don't have to see it. #fandom debunking #i heard tommy tallarico was the first american hired to work on supernatural (his mother is very proud)

[hangmanssunnies]

Sfumato

House We Share: Double Tap, Sfumato, Good Comes In 3

Summary: Loving Jake Seresin isn't difficult but accepting that he won't ever love you back is. So you have to decide if what Jake does give you is enough. Can you with it? Can you love him enough that it fills the gaps in between? After all, how much does a confession really matter? At this point, you're pretty sure it can't rival how it feels to help Jake paint coyotes flying planes.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem! Civilian! Reader, minor Javy "Coyote" Machado x OC

Word count: 23K

Playlist

AO3 LINK

Warnings: Abuse (Implied and mentioned), confrontation with the abuser (mentioned), Child abuse (mentioned), Slow burn, routines and compulsions, Jigsaw puzzles (mentioned), Rejection, Drinking, Lying, Arguments, Yearning, Deployment, communication, hyper-specific!Jake, Neurodivergent coded! Jake. Please let me know if I missed any for this part; I know it is a long one.

Authors Note: I am not sure what to say about this. I agonized over this for 8 drafts, and now I just I hope you enjoy at least some part. Thank you for your patience in waiting on this second part. Coyote and Hangman BFF supremacy.

Thank you so much if you take a chance to read this work. I hope you enjoy it. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

++++

It wasn’t that your attempts to convince Jake to be yours weren’t going well. It’s just that they didn’t seem to make any difference. You baked his favorite dessert which ended with the two of you dancing in the kitchen together to a slow song he had thrown on the record player. Just when Jake had been about to kiss you, his phone rang, and it was work so he had to take it. 

Another time you had been sitting with him in the garage, while he worked on your car. Jake had been wearing overalls, and you found it so hard to think that before you knew it you were pressed as close to him as his sharp elbow would let you, asking how you could help. If Jake hadn’t been covered in grease, and dirt you would have kissed him right there. Again, it just didn’t seem like the right time. These moments kept happening so frequently you had practically given up at this point. You decided that you two would happen eventually. You just had to keep doing the small stuff, so when the time came you would have plenty of supporting evidence for your case. Enough evidence that it would be impossible and illogical for Jake to not want you back. 

“Sugar, would you mind helping me out?” You hear Jake call out.

“What’s up?” You call back to him already standing from the couch and walking towards the laundry room. Jake smiles widely once he spots you near  the doorway. 

“Would you mind taking those upstairs?” He asks, nodding towards a pile of towels and sheets. 

“I absolutely cannot do that for you,” you tell him, sounding dead serious. However, you are already gathering the laundry up in your arms, earning a laugh from Jake. 

“Can you just put them by my sink? I would do it but,” he gestures to the heated-up iron he is holding. 

“No problem, Jake.” You tell him. You make your way upstairs with the laundry and into Jake’s room. It is as clean and tidy as it’s been all the other times you’ve seen it 

Although when you step into Jake’s bathroom you have the sudden realization you had never been in there before. It’s clean, of course, which is no surprise. You set the towels and sheets down on the counter. As you turn to leave, something catches your eye and makes you gasp: Jake has a bathtub. 

He doesn’t just have a normal bathtub, no, it’s a large luxurious looking porcelain claw foot bathtub. The walk-in shower and double sinks don’t even catch your interest after you’ve seen this. Almost immediately, you are flying out of Jake’s room and down the stairs, sliding to a stop by the laundry room’s doorway again. 

“You good?” Jake asks, confused by your sudden reappearance and slightly elevated breath. 

“Jake, you have a bathtub!” 

He nods his head and looks confused. “Yeah, and?” 

“Why did you keep it a secret from me?” 

“I thought you knew.” He responds with a small shrug. 

“I had no clue.”

“Honestly, I rarely ever use that thing, but I keep it clean. So, anytime you ever want to take a bath you're more than welcome to go right ahead.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah of course. I got Epson salt, some soap that’s supposed to make bubbles, and those bath bomb things in that chest next to it. Which, please use.”

You want to ask why Jake would have all those things if he isn’t a bath guy. The answer seems obvious to you though which doesn’t make it less of a stab to your heart. The only thing that’s better than a bath after all is a bath with someone else. 

“You wouldn’t mind?” you ask him, double checking. 

“No, Ma’am. You go right ahead.” 

“Thank you, Jake!” You exclaim walking to his side. You make sure you’re careful of the iron’s cord, so you don’t trip. Jake is leaning downwards waiting for his cheek kiss before you even reach his side. You place a quick soft kiss there. 

“Anytime. There’s also a speaker under the sink if you want music.” Then he starts ironing again, and you linger at his side longer than necessary enjoying his closeness. 

Just after you leave the laundry room and start down the hallway Jake calls after you. “Yell or text if you need anything.” 

Jake’s bathtub is just as nice and luxurious as you had anticipated it to be. His chest of bath items had a much wider selection than you were expecting. It was just like Jake to be over prepared with all the variation.  

You soak to your heart’s content, and you are fully relaxed before getting out of the tub. After that and your post bath needs you throw on some lounging clothes and head downstairs again. You feel warm and happy. You wonder if you’ll be able to coax Jake into cuddling with you on the couch. 

It normally doesn’t take much effort on your part. An offhand comment that you’re cold, or telling Jake he will really like the show you are watching with a pat on the seat next to you. Oftentimes it won’t take any effort at all, you simply just make yourself close and Jake would naturally gravitate to your side. 

When you get downstairs though you pause, hearing a dripping sound. Following the sound to the downstairs guest bathroom you gasp at what you find. There is a huge bubble in the ceiling with water dripping out. Luckily enough it’s mostly dripping into the shower. However, it looks like the rest of the trapped water could burst at any moment. 

You stare at the compromised ceiling as if keeping a watchful eye on it will prevent anything from happening. And you yell out “Jake!” 

You don’t hear anything, so you yell again a bit louder this time. “Jake, I need help!” 

 You hear a door slam just as Jake calls out for you. “Sugar?”

“In here,” you call back. 

“Are you okay?”  Hangman asks as he comes down the hallway. His eyes scanning your body closely looking for anything amiss. 

“I’m okay,” you reassure him. Then you point to the ceiling. “That, not so much.” 

Jake’s follows where you are pointing to the bubble and water in the ceiling. He lets out a low whistle, at the sight.  

“Well, this definitely isn’t great news,” Jake says. He sets his palm on your back to gently urge you to the side to enter the bathroom. His chest still brushes against your side as he passes. 

He starts to look more closely at water bubble. He pokes it experimentally and the whole things reacts by sloshing and shifting. 

Jake hums and steps back around you in the doorway. As he does it, he doesn’t even seem fully conscious of the choice to press a kiss to your brow while muttering a low thank you. You turn and follow his retreat with your eyes. When he comes back from the garage with various tools. Jake steps around you again but you don’t make any attempt to shift for him. He doesn’t seem to mind brushing so close though. 

“You might want to move, darlin.” Jake says to you this time. You have to make an effort not to pout when you aren’t gifted a kiss as he passes. 

“Why? What are you doing?” 

“I’m going to cut open the drywall, well wet wall now, and let the water out.” Jake chuckles at his own joke, clearly pleased with himself. “It’ll probably get messy.” 

You heed Jake’s advice and step backwards out of the doorway planting yourself in the hallway instead. You watch as Jake cuts a hole in the ceiling over the shower and the water releases in a rush. Once most of the water has drained, Jake investigates enough to determine that there isn’t an active leak occurring. Just as Jake predicted he is dirty now, soaked and covered in wet drywall. 

“Okay that’s fine for right now. Sweetheart, can you bring me a towel and a change of clothes? So, I don’t track so much of this gunk everywhere. 

“What do you think caused it?” You ask him while turning to the laundry room and grabbing his requested items. When you come back to the bathroom Jake has stripped down to just his boxers. 

You try not to let your eyes wander. You see Jake scantly clothed around the house less than you have fantasized when you first moved in. He is almost always fully dressed. Really the only times you saw him shirtless was days he went on extra-long runs in the mornings. He would come inside heated sweaty with his shirt draped around his neck. 

Those sightings were always so early in the mornings though. They were always tinted with glowing, sleepy haze, sometimes making a question if you were still asleep, and this was just another dream. 

Right now, there is nothing deniable about the way his body is on display, and by the time you force yourself to be respectful and focus on his face. Jake’s smug smirk tells you he has absolutely no shame or ounce of self-consciousness in him about this aspect of himself. The way you were staring doesn’t seem to have bothered him either. That bottom lip of his tucking in between his teeth, almost taunting you. 

You ignore the bloom of desire in you and hold out the towel first. Jake rinses his hands and forearms off in the sink before grabbing the towel.  The fact that it’s disrespectful only bothers you the tiniest bit while you watch him clean up. You don’t say anything the whole time or when you hand him the change of clothes, too worried it would break the spell. 

Jake catches your eye while he is dressing. The way he stares at you is so intense, it makes goose flesh prickle on your arms. You had always known how charged and heated taking clothes off was, but you had never imagined that putting them on could be just as much so. 

“You didn’t hear a thing I just said.” Jake says.

“Hmm?” You hum.

“You know why I call you Sugar?” Jake asks you breaking the silence while he takes the plain black t-shirt you are holding and pulling it over his head. 

“Because you can take the boy out of Texas but not Texas out of the boy.” 

“Hey, I ain’t no boy unless you’re putting cow in front of it,” Jake says, and it’s a tone that more than borders flirty. He has been doing that more lately, flirting with you outright. You are still stuck deciding between if he actually has become receptive to your efforts to impress and entice him, or if he has finally wholly become comfortable with you around so he isn’t so strict on his filter. 

“Oh of course Jakers. I’m sorry,” you say dramatically. 

“I can’t stay mad at you,” he says affectionately. His thumb grazing your chin tilting your face. “No, even though we both know I’m a Texian through and through. But the reason?  It’s because you are so sweet to me. Sweeter than sugar honestly.” 

Jake’s voice takes on an almost musing tone. His hand drifting and settles on the side of your neck. And you want to melt, his words repeat over and over in your brain melting any other thought. Your own hand reaches up and grips his wrist almost tightly. Mostly as a way to ground yourself because you feel like you might float away, and partly because you want to hold Jake in place scared that he will pull away. 

“Maybe I should be calling you honey instead. I might like that even better.” Jake continues. His thumb swipes across your pulse point and your breath hitches. 

“Which do you like better? Sugar, or Honey?” He asks you purposely and slowly drawling out each word. Part of you wants to back out of this interaction before it can tread into any more dangerous waters. However, this is just the kind of moment you wanted and were desperate for; times that gave you a glimpse Jake might have some sort of want and need for you. 

“I like both those just fine. However, there is a third option which I would like most.” You respond after thinking over the two pet names. 

“Cupcake?” Jake guesses. 

“Nope.” 

“Sunshine?” 

“What are these callsigns?” You ask him playfully. That earns you a small chuckle and Jake inches even closer to you. 

“Darling?” 

You hum in appreciation but shake your head. “I do love darling, but not what I’m thinking of.” 

“Fine, I give up. What is it?” Jake sighs admitting defeat. You have the word ‘yours’ ready to say it’s there on the tip of your tongue finally about to be out in the open. 

However, before you can there is a creaking ripping noise as a chunk of the wet drywall falls and slams hard and loud onto the floor below. Jake is turning to asess the situation while simultaneously gently urging you behind his frame in a quick reaction. It’s yet another moment that sucks all the tension out the air. The ones you and Jake can’t seem to avoid running into at inopportune times. 

“Jake, this isn’t something we can ignore. We should call the landlord to come out and fix it.” You say peering around his shoulder to look more closely at the mess that’s been made. 

“Oh, don’t worry too much, Darlin. I will take a look at it in the morning.” Jake says with a shrug putting his hands on his hips. “It needs to dry out anyways.” 

“I know that you are capable and can deal with it. But this isn’t something you should have to bother with.”  You explain to him. 

“Yes, it is. Who else is gonna do it? I ain’t paying someone to fix this when I know I can and have the time.” Jake says, shaking his head at you with a laugh. You stare at him a bit confused and then suddenly you feel a realization start to dawn on you. 

“Jake, I’ve got a question.”

“What’s up?”  Jake’s hands are on his hips, and he takes a few steps back into the bathroom towards the hole. 

“Who is our landlord?” You ask cautiously.  

“We don’t have one.”

“We don’t?”

“No, sugar.” Jake says, peering at the hole thoughtfully. 

“How is that possible?” You ask. 

“I own the house.” He says it in a duh voice, like this is something you should know. 

You snap your mouth shut, your teeth click together and stare at him.  It is your silence or the intensity of your almost glare that tips him off and Jake looks away from the damage in the ceiling to you. You meet his green sea glass eyes, and his eyebrows draw close together a frown pulling the edges of his lips down. You slowly shake your head and back away from Jake out of the bathroom. 

“Sugar,” he says soothingly. He takes a small step towards you, but you continue backing up quicker. Once you hit the hallway you spin on your heel ready to book it back to your room. Jake catches up to you on the top of the stairs clearly having taken them three at a time. 

“What’s wrong?” Jake calls after you. 

“You never needed a roommate. Did you Jake?” You ask him desperately hoping you’re wrong about the story you’re building in your head a mile a minute. 

Jake's eyebrows lift up his forehead but the way his eyes cast down to his toes and his tongue darts out to wet his lips you don’t even need to know his answer, it’s evident. 

“No,” the word is finally uttered. You have to squeeze your hands tightly into fists to release some of the hurt at hearing it confirmed. It’s like everything around you is shifting but you are frozen in place helpless to watch it change. Your perception of who Jake is threatening to bend with it. 

“So, I was a pity project to you?”

“What? No. It was nothing like that!” Jake denies. 

“Javy told you about his wife’s poor sad friend who was down on her luck, and you couldn’t help but jump on the chance to play savior. Wanted to be a big macho hero. That’s what you live for isn’t it, Jake?”

He stops looking shocked, and you see anger at your words spark up in his eyes instead. You are glad; You want to make him as angry and hurt as you are feeling right now. 

“You would like that wouldn’t you?” Jake responds in almost a condescending tone. You are almost shocked he didn’t throw a nice bless your heart on top of it. 

“No, I wouldn’t actually!  I don’t want to be seen as some fucking damsel in distress. I didn’t need saving.”

“Yes, you did!” Jake cries back throwing his hands upward. The knot that forms in his jaw when he clenches it appears as he grinds his teeth in frustration. 

“Wow,” you laugh shaking your head. You turn to go to your room needing to get away from him. 

“Wait, listen. Please.” 

“I don’t want to listen to you right now, Hangman.” 

“That’s not very fair,” Jake huffs at your answer.  

“Is it an apology?” You ask, turning to face Jake once more while standing in the doorway to your room. 

“No. It’s not.” Jake responds. You can hear the annoyance in his voice which just makes you feel angrier. 

“No?”

“No,” Jake confirms. His fists are clenched so hard at his side that his knuckles are white. “I would never let anyone stay in the situation you were in. There isn’t anything wrong with getting help getting out.”

You stare at Jake wide eyed he had never been this direct with you before. He never brought up you past or why poked at why you moved in. Not even after your dad had shown at the house and he refused to reference any of it. So, it’s startling to have it open in front of you both. Jake not pretending that he didn’t know or wasn’t aware anymore. Jake pulls his hands through his hair making it stand up at awkward angles. 

“Listen you can be mad at me. That’s fine, but don’t be mad at Javy and Marlee. They only wanted you to be safe. We all just wanted you to be safe.”

“You didn’t even know me.”

“Why would that matter?” Jake asks coldly. Then after a few beats where you don’t say anything he continues. 

“I was never more thankful in my life than when I was able to move away from my father. How the hell could I have stood by and left you in that situation?” 

You start a little bit in surprise at his words. Only able to breath out a quiet, “Oh, Jake.” 

“I don’t care if you don’t like it. I don’t care if you feel like it was pity or a handout. I don’t care that you’re mad. I wouldn’t change it. It was the right thing to do,” Jake says steamrolling forward ignoring the hand you reach out towards him.  

“My feelings never mattered then?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying. I shouldn’t have to explain to you that the thing I care about, before anything else, is that you are safe. Once someone’s safe there is time and space to deal with everything else.” 

“How can I feel safe with someone who lied to me?” You ask him venomously. 

A soon as he fully processes your words Jake recoils in hurt. It’s what you wanted but you don’t feel any satisfaction from it. Jake looks disappointed as he shakes his head at you, which makes you feel even worse. Then with a sharp nod and grimace he tries to play off as a smile Jake spins on his heel and goes down the stairs. 

You go into your room shutting the door securely. Then you lay on your bed and try not to cry. Trying to think with any sort of a clear head proving impossible. You can’t stop wondering how you let such a nice night turn so sour. You are also plagued by thinking over every moment you have had with Jake looking to see if there was a layer of pity to him that you had just been oblivious to. 

The next morning you feel extremely nervous to venture out of your room. You had lived on egg shells before, and the feeling was sickening. The anxiety of the situation crawled up your throat strangling you a little bit. You and Jake have never had anything even close to resembling a fight, or whatever you wanted to call what had happened the night before. Despite the nausea gnawing at you, by mid-morning you finally work up the courage to venture down stairs. 

Cautiously you look around, but you don’t see Jake in the living room, dining room, or the kitchen. So, you tiptoe into the kitchen to look for food. Standing there you hear music coming from the garage. It takes you several more minutes to hype yourself up enough to peek into Jake’s workspace and confront him. 

As you open the door and step out the sound of rock music immediately envelopes you, your eyes scan the area until they land on Jake. He is measuring a sheet of drywall, making marks on it with a square pencil. 

If he noticed you enter the garage, he doesn’t indicate it in any way, continuing the task. You make you way over to one of the comfy Ergonomic Camping Chairs that Jake had set up in the shop. Sitting there waiting you are unable to take your eyes off Jake. The garage which was clean and orderly yesterday in now a whirlwind mess. Both your vehicles have been moved out presumably into the driveway, Materials for at least three different projects are strewn out. When Hangman finishes drawing the outline of where he is planning on cutting, he finally looks at you. 

Tucking the square pencil on his ear, Jake turns the volume of the speaker low. He doesn’t say anything, just leans back against the workbench and looks at you. While waiting his fiddles with the toothpick sticking out of his mouth. When Jake flips it before biting down again you decide you're going to have to say something first. 

“Good morning.” 

“Morning,” He responds tersely. 

You don’t know what to say, so silence descends again. Jake remains perfectly still waiting, the only movement is the occasional wiggle of his toothpick. You look at the wall behind him seeing it covered in new taped up project plans and half-finished sketches. 

“Can we talk about it?” You ask cutting through the silence again. 

Jake crosses his arms over this chest but nods his head in agreement. “Yeah, we should. If you feel up to it.” 

“So, you always knew why I needed to move?” 

“Yeah. Javy and Marls told me in not so many details. They knew I had a lot of extra space, and that I would never let anything happen.” 

“So, the three of you were conspiring behind my back.”

“Conspiring,” Jake scoffs in a sharp sarcastic tone. “We got you out of an abusive situation and home. We are such assholes.” 

“The point is you lied to me. You didn’t think I would want to know you owned the house?”

“You never asked,” Jake says, defending himself. 

“Typically, people like to know they are living with their landlord, Jake.” You snap back and rub your face tiredly. 

“It didn’t seem like it mattered. I’m not your landlord anyways. We are friends.”  

You consider his words and suck a breath in through your teeth. “Please tell me what I'm thinking is wrong.”

“What are you thinking?” Jake asks. 

“That you have been giving me an outrageous discount while living here. How when you told me to pay less in rent you were already subsidizing me living here.” 

Jake’s lips tighten and he holds his gaze past your shoulder. If you weren’t watching him intently you would have missed the small nod. 

“Are you at least using my rent to pay any of the mortgage?” Jake’s bottom lip tucks in-between his teeth for a moment and you know he is preparing to lie to you. Exasperated, you warn him, “Don’t lie to me.” 

“It’s been going into a high yield savings account I set up for you.” 

“Jake!” 

“What? I don’t need your money. Plus having a strong savings and an emergency fund is important.” 

You groan loudly and cover your face. It was ridiculous. It was honestly so hard to stay mad at him when he was like this. How he was caring and sweet but going about it in the wrong way. 

“I’m moving,” you say, throwing your hands upwards. 

“Why?” Jake asks, his eyes widening in alarm. “Because if it’s about the money that’s a stupid reason.”

“I’m not running away from anyone anymore, and while I appreciate your kindness, Jake, but it’s time for me to go.” 

“You won’t find somewhere cheaper.”

“Apparently not, when I haven’t been paying rent at all!” 

“Have I been a bad roommate?” Jake asks, he has that same look on his face as he does when he is trying to palace a particularly confusing puzzle piece. One he would often wear when he broke out the magnifying glass, he kept in his puzzle chest. 

“No, you’re a good roommate.” 

“What is it then?”

“Jake,” you sigh exasperatedly. 

“I need a reason besides money,” Jake requests. 

“It’s not just the money.” 

“Ah, Just. So, what else is it?”

It’s how you are embarrassed, it’s how you love him, ache for him. How Jake makes you happy to come home. “I still don’t understand what you are getting out of this. Isn’t your sense of honor bound duty fulfilled?” 

“Flew past honor and gentlemanly a long time ago, actually,” he replies slightly snarky. You roll your eyes at his answer. 

“Okay,” you say, drawing out the syllables. 

“Sugar, there is something you just don’t seem to understand. You make everything better,” Jake is plain in how he says this. The sunsets in the west, otters hold hands when they sleep, and Jake Seresin thinks you make everything better… It's that simple. 

You are stunned. You blink back at him owlishly trying to process his words. When you don’t respond Jake runs a hand through his hair pulling at it. 

“I did need a roommate,” he starts wanting to fill the silence.  “Having someone else here helps me. It gives me a reason to check the locks, use my shop, and talk to someone when I get home. I used to just sit here; you know. When I got back from the gym at night I would just sit alone, mostly in silence. Sometimes I would read, or do sudoku, other nights I would just stare at the wall waiting until it was finally a justifiable time to go to bed.”

That image is a punch in the gut. A quiet dark house, with a lonely quiet Hangman in it. You try to imagine what would happen when he enters a stress phase, but he is here alone, no one to reign him in, no one to tell Coyote that Jake needs help. Even if you’re hurt and mad, you love him. 

“Okay, Jake.”

“Okay, what?” He asks you. 

“I won't move, but you need to let me pay my share.” 

He grinds his teeth at your answer contemplating it. “Is that a deal breaker?” 

“Yes,” you tell him. 

“I’m sorry. It’s a no then.”

“No?” you gasp shocked. “You were just begging me to stay.”

“I will beg on my knees if you want. Money though? I’m sorry, Sugar. I won’t compromise on it.” 

“Why are you so difficult?” You ask. 

“Mama always said I was more stubborn than a mule. I can’t make my Mama a liar, sweetheart.” Jake says, he looks less sullen now that he seems to understand getting you to stay is possible. 

“We can’t have that can we?” You finally respond, deciding to give in. Jake whoops, and later once he wakes up from the nap you forced him to take, he doesn’t stop checking on you like he expects you to disappear. 

~~~~~~~

A few weeks later things seem to be back on track and normal between you and Jake. There was a full week where Jake seemed to be watching you nonstop, hypervigilant to everything about you. He has eased up though, and you were glad to have him at ease again.  

Jake had just finished his post morning run shower and come downstairs munching on a snack in the kitchen. You are on the couch and beckon for Jake to join you. Wordlessly, he bee lines to you only stopping momentarily to grab a blanket out of the blanket basket. Jakes sits next to you. He spreads the blanket over you first and then goes to tuck it over himself as well. 

However as soon as Jake does, he shoots up out of place, shoving the blanket off him. He flips it over and examines the underside. He frowns heavily at the white lining that doesn’t match the dark blue hyper soft outside. 

“What is this?” Jake asks you. 

“It’s sherpa?” you say looking at the blankets lining too. 

He reaches out to touch it again and it makes his nose wrinkle with a stern frown. Then Jake looks like he is at war. He eyes flick from your side to the blanket again. 

“What wrong?” you ask reaching out a hand for him and making a grabby hand. 

“I don’t like that,” he says waving to the fabric. 

You laugh at Jake, but it is born of pure affection. You refold the blanket quickly, and a bit sloppily and hand it back to him. “Then go get a different blanket.”

“We don’t have to.” He says. Jake is looking at the blanket as if he is mentally preparing himself to deal with the discomfort. 

“We have lots of other blankets, Jakers. I don’t care which one we use,” You wave back towards the basket. 

“No, no. It’s fine,” Jake insists. He starts to unfold and tuck the blanket around you again, not leaving any for himself. You frown at this choice, since it means no cuddles. 

“Jakobi Seresin, go get another blanket.” You order, push the blanket off of you as Jake is simultaneously pushing it off. 

“It’s fine. Just a blanket, I’ll get over it. ” Jake tells you sharply. You don’t think his frustration is directed towards you. You take a deep breath resisting the urge to flinch. 

“You don’t have to live in discomfort to prove a point,” you argue evenly. Jake sighs, your name exasperated. It’s such a rare treat for him not to fall into a pet name. It tells you that you need to press the point. 

“We should feel safe in our home. You’re always telling me that right?”

“Yes,” Jake confirms.

"Well, that includes being comfortable. So, you should be comfortable here.” 

“I’m not uncomfortable in our home,” Jake protests.

“I have a question for you.”

“Well then I imagine I have an answer,” Jake responds sarcastically, it was a known fact he hated when people asked if they could ask a question because that in itself was a question. 

“If I didn’t like this blanket, would you switch it?”

“Yes, of course,” Jake responds immediately. 

“Thank goodness,” you sigh, “Because I hate this blanky so much.”

He stares at you frozen. You wait patiently this time for him to react. Finally, after he has thoroughly examined every inch of you Jake’s frown melts away. Wordlessly, he trades the blanket out for a grey one in the basket. You watch him flip a corner to check the inside and make sure this one doesn’t have a lining. After confirming that he hold it up for you, clearly seeking your approval. You nod three times, and even give him a thumbs up. 

“I didn’t like how that stuck to my skin. It felt like it was a million tiny hands pulling at it.” Jake explains not embarrassed, because he rarely is, but something that shares a border with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know we felt that way about it.”

“I don’t think I did either,” Jake says unfolding the newly chosen blanket. 

"We," you correct him. 

"We think this one is softer anyways," he supplies. 

"Yes, we do," you agree. 

He is once again tucking the blanket, fluffing it around you comfortably before claiming his own half. Jake sits there a moment and then readjusts the blanket again evening out the sides a bit. He starts to readjust again, stopping halfway through, he harshly pulls the blanket balling it up tightly. Jake huffs frustratedly as he starts again. 

You patiently wait unbothered and unhurried. Simply content while he gets comfortable. Only humming sweetly each time he tucks your side of the blanket in. Once he determines it is even Jake sighs clearly pleased with the soft texture of this blanket. Jake sinks back, relaxing into the couch, and you notice the distinctive space he places between you. 

Since the two of you had passed into the realm of touch being an easy given between you, Jake hardly ever didn’t take the chance to lean into it. You watch him pick up his Sudoku book, open it up to a page stare at it for approximately 30 seconds before he closes the book and trades it out of the sketch pad he has on the table. Even as he opens his and starts working, he doesn’t lean closer. 

You tentatively reach over and rub his shoulder. “You good, Jakers?” 

“Yes Ma’am.” He responds, as his pencil scribbles along the notepad. 

His response feels short enough that you pull your hand away from him, even going as far as to scooch a little further away on the couch. You wonder why he even joined you on the couch, while you resist the urge to pout. After turning your show back on, you try to ignore the distance between you and Jake but it bothers you nonetheless. 

“What are you sketching?” You decide to ask him a little while later.

“You,” Jake responds without missing a beat. 

“Me?” You ask shocked. Leaning over, you see sure enough, Jake has sketched you. It is a flattering but accurate rendition, that is surprisingly realistic. 

“Oh wow,” you breathe. Jake hums in agreement moving his hand out of the way so you can get a better look. 

“Thank you, Jake. You created a very nice portrayal.”

“Art’s easy when your subject is so beautiful.” 

 You fight against the warmth that blossoms in you at his compliment. “Aren’t you a sweet talker.”

“It’s true!” Jake says. 

“If you say so,” you tell him. 

“God, I need to take you to a museum. I can’t believe you don’t believe me. You are prettier than any of those artist muses.”

“Is that what I am then? Your muse?” You ask him playfully. 

“You are absolutely my muse. Nothing inspires me like you do, sweetheart.” 

God, you could faint at Jake’s words or kiss him. You don’t do either though, instead you just lean into his space until he naturally throws an arm around you, letting you settle close to his chest. He glances down at where you have cuddled against him. 

“Is this okay?” he asks gently. At first you aren’t sure what he is talking about. However, when you feel his arm start to shift from where it’s wrapped around you catch his wrist holding him in place. 

“Yes, always okay.” You tell him. Jake does still move his arm out of your grasp though. You feel confused, trying to consider if you have crossed any of his boundaries. Physical touch and affection was so natural and commonplace between you two that you didn’t even really give it a second thought anymore. 

“Is it okay with you?”  You ask checking in. 

“It is, but only if you are okay with it.”  

“Not really how that works,” you tell him.

“That’s always how it works between us,” Jake says. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Jake.” 

“I won’t,” he tells you with conviction. 

“Do you promise?” 

“I promise,” Jake says, kissing your forehead. You can’t stop yourself from pressing a small kiss to his clothed chest. You try to disguise it by leaving your face there, breathing in Jake’s scent. 

He doesn’t comment on it. Jake just readjusts the blanket around you again, tucking it in around you until he is content. His arm wraps around you again pulling you even closer to his chest. With a little more shifting he is situated and goes back to drawing. 

It’s one of those nights that leaves you with the feeling there is nothing in the world you really have to worry about, not when Jake is at your side. 

— — — — 

"Do I look okay? I can't decide if this is too dressy," Jake asks you as he walks into the living room. Once he is standing fully in front of you, he adds, almost sheepishly. "It's for a date." 

Your eyes snap to Jake, and you inhale sharply, caught off guard by his words. You try to play it off, scanning him from head to toe. He is wearing a patterned button-down with the sleeves neatly folded to his elbows, and the top two buttons are undone. You could see the peak of his dog tags underneath. Jake has paired the shirt with some dark-wash jeans. He, of course, looks undeniably good. It doesn't help how your stomach is stuck on one of those whirly fair rides. You gulp down your bubbling emotions, trying to keep level and at bay. 

"You look great. What are you doing?" You ask casually. 

"We are going to some coffee shop," Jake tells you with a shrug. 

"Oh wow, that should be fun. "

"It'll be something," while he sounds confident, Jake doesn't really sound excited. 

"Normally, you are supposed to be excited about a date, you know."

"Yes, Sugar. I am aware of that." He says, rolling his eyes. 

With how hard you had been trying, you think that Jake would have acted on any secret or partial feelings he had for you. This felt like the final nail in the coffin. He wasn't going to love you back; he wasn't going to pick up any of your hints. All signs pointed to that he would never feel that way towards you. It seemed all other excuses now evaporated. It wasn't that he wasn't dating right now. It wasn't that he was too busy or wasn't looking for anyone. It was simply because it wasn't you, and it never would be you. 

God, he was so handsome; even in the trenches of your hurt, you can't help but think so. "It's your hair."

"What?"

"Come here," you tell him, motioning for him to come closer to your side. "It's your hair that is making you feel that way." 

Jake comes to your side and crouches down. You reach up and touch the gelled-back strands. Ignoring the product's texture, you run your fingers through it so that it falls much more loose and free.  

"You aren't going to work; you don't need your hair slicked back like this." You explain to him kindly. You fiddle with one of the strands absently, trying to decide how you want to place it. Jake's eyes flutter shut while you play with the strands. 

"Thank you," Jake says softly, his hand settling on your waist, holding you steady while you fix his hair. You ignore how big and warm his hand feels. It's like his touch burns you with how much it makes you want to cry. You pull away and lean back, making his hand fall back to his side. 

"Anytime, Hangman," you whisper. He pulls back from you and sits in his comfy chair. 

"So, tell me about it," you say after a minute of staring at him. 

"Well, she asked me out the other night at the bar."

The last time Jake went to the bar was on Thursday. That was four days ago, and he hadn't said anything. You feel the knife in your gut twist even deeper. 

"Well, how did it happen?" You don't know why you are doing this to yourself. You know that if you don't ask him any more questions, Jake will sit quietly and content in his chair on his phone until he has to leave. 

"Ah, she complimented my shirt. She is from Texas too."

"She just complimented your shirt, and now you are going on a date?"

"Yeah, I mean, she asked, and I didn't have an excuse to say no," Jake explains to you. It's true he didn't have an excuse; after all, the two of you were just roommates and friends.

"Oh, well, that's nice. She sounds bold," You respond.

"Bold's definitely one way to put it."

"What do you mean?" You are confused by his tone.

"Well, to put it plainly, Sugar. I think that she really only wants one thing from me." Jake gestures down the length of his body before pulling his toothpick case out of his pocket and popping one out to use.

“Gottcha,” you answer. 

Jake sits there with you for another ten minutes, bouncing his leg the entire time before he tells you he has to go. You manage to force out a polite goodbye telling him to have fun. You are anxious for Jake to get back. You try to distract yourself, but nothing seems to work. Finally, a few hours later, you decide it would probably be best for you to try and get out for a while. However, when you get to the garage, Jake is there. 

You are startled and set a hand on your chest, trying to calm your breathing back down. He is wearing a pair of earmuffs and hasn't seen you yet. You notice that he has changed clothes since you last saw him. Now he is in one of his ratty garage shirts and jeans. 

Walking across the garage, you call to him loudly, "Jake!" 

He catches your movement out of the corner of his eye. He raises his hand in greeting and pushes off the earmuffs, then takes out the headphones he had on underneath. 

"Hi, Sugar," Jake says. 

"Jakers! I didn't know you were home. How did it go?" You ask. Despite having prepared yourself to be happy for him, your tone doesn't quite hit as easygoing as you hoped.  

"Yeah, I got home a while ago. It wasn't the best date I've ever been on," Jake says, throwing the cloth he has in his hands over his shoulder. 

"No?" You question trying to fish for details. 

"No," he sighs and rubs his face. His hair, you playfully mused earlier, is now almost messy, telling you he had been messing with it. 

"I'm sorry," you apologize. 

"No need to be. I only went to be polite anyway." Jake says, giving you a smile. His answer raises your heart from where it had been residing on the floor. You drift over to the bench to see what he is working on and gasp. 

"Oh my god, Jake, is this it?"

"Yes, Ma'am. One puzzle table, almost done." 

You appreciate the stained juniper and the design that Jake made for the table. It folds open, and the top is removable as well if you want it completely out of the way, not just folded. It has a soft white felt fabric on the inside. On the sides, there are a few hidden drawers to store pieces. You can tell it's impeccably made. The table looks almost exactly like the final sketch he had shown you for your approval and feedback before buying the materials. 

"It's amazing, just like your design," You sigh, going to run your hand over the smooth-looking wood. Jake stops you, his hand catching your wrist in a gentle grip.  

"The stain is still drying," He warns you before letting go of your hand. 

"How did you get so good at all this?" You decide to ask him, turning your admiration of the table back to him. 

"Miss Celeste."

"No way," you say, shaking your head at him in disbelief.

"No, it's true!"

"Why exactly did Mrs. Celeste know about all this?" You ask, waving towards the table and bench. 

Jake chuckles as he twirls a square pencil in his fingers. "She is a very talented woman. But the reason she learned about woodworking was because she fell in love."

"Don't leave it there, Jake." 

"Well, one day Miss Celeste drove into town to go to the store. And while she was in the tool store, she had gotten all turned around. That's where she met my Pop, Mr. Russell, he was also there and asked if she was lost. Now, Miss Celeste would rather die than admit she was in the wrong, or ignorant. So she told him she was exactly where she needed to be. So he asked her, what she needed the wood for, and what was she going to do with it? Then she looked him dead in the eyes saying she was building a new bed frame. And poor Mr. Russ had been so shocked that he laughed."

"He laughed?" you ask. 

 Jake grins widely towards you at the memory of the story. As he chuckles at his grandmother and shakes his head. "Miss Celeste was so mad that she decided she had to do it. She made him carry all the wood she picked out and to the register and then also to her truck. Pops didn't complain once about this small polish woman meeting him and immediately bossing him around either. After all the wood was all loaded up, he wished her good luck."

"Miss Celeste doesn't believe in luck." You say, thinking of some of the other stories Jake had told you. 

"No, Ma'am, and neither do I." 

"She told him that, didn't she?"

"Of course, and she said she didn't need luck, because she had skill and work ethic," Jake's voice dipped into an extra twist of accent that somewhat replicated his grandmother's unique polish southern twang you would hear on the other side of Jake's phone sometimes.    

"Mr. Russ just shrugged, helped her in her truck, and told her that he would believe it when he saw it. And it drove her a little crazy. She became obsessed with figuring out how to build a bed frame. Not just anyone but a good one. She went to the library, checked out a bunch of books, and even took some classes. When Miss Celeste finished it, she had no idea what to do. All she knew about him was he had been in a tool store, and his name was Russell.  

"Miss Celeste went back to the store and tried asking around after Russell, but no one knew anything."

"What happened?" you ask him. 

Jake's eyes absolutely twinkle, and sometimes when he talks about the things he loves, he nearly glows. He turns towards his bench and grabs a trunk off the top shelf. 

You lean close to his side as he opens it. The chest has a few different photo albums and other keepsakes. You spot a watch, a compass, some pins, and some patches. Tucked in the corner, you see a cello bridge you desperately want to ask Jake about.

However, before you can jump topics, Jake traces over the photo album's spines until he grabs one with a dark leather binding. Flipping open the scrapbook, Jake starts turning pages before he stops on one and shows the page to you. You follow where he is pointing. Saved in the scrapbook is an aged newspaper clipping. It's an advertisement for two handmade bedside tables; payment only accepted in one matching bed frame.

"He put an Ad in the paper?" 

"Every single Sunday after he met her, for months." Jake sighs and runs his fingers across the paper. 

"So, Miss Celeste finally saw it?" 

"Yeah, she contacted him and invited him over. Pops pulled up to her house with two bedside tables that matched the bed frame. Miss Celeste demanded that he put the bedside tables in her room to go with the frame. He asked her if they could go on a drive and dinner after. She said absolutely not. They had to test out how sturdy she made the frame. Pops was a smart man who said yes, ma'am, and followed orders. They have spent every day since then madly in love." 

"Wow, that's such a beautiful love story they had."

"Yeah, it was something."

"So, you are close with Russ too?" you ask. 

"I am, even if he ain't my grandpa," Jake says.

"What? He's not your Grandpa?" You ask surprised. 

"My actual blood grandpa, the one I'm named after, died young. Mr. Russ and Miss Celeste fell in love later. He always bothered my Da', but Russ is a good man."

"And good to you?" 

"Yeah, and good to me too." 

Jake turns the page, and you see the couple. They are sitting in two rocking chairs side by side, holding hands. Celeste has a neutral, if almost stern, look on her face, but Russell is grinning wide, his face happy and bright. The only thing that gives Celeste's true feelings away is that she is leaning towards him. It reminds you vaguely of how the sunflower can't help but turn in the direction of the sun. 

"He's the reason I applied to the naval academy. Helped me get my congressional nominations and write my application. My namesake was in the army, but Russ is a navy man, just like me." Jake turns the page again. 

The next picture is a huge barn with Celeste and Russell standing proudly in front of it. Russ has an arm thrown around Celeste's shoulder. She has a hand on her hip, and a hammer in the other. Celeste has a pleased look but not an actual full smile, while Russell is once again grinning. You reach out slowly without thinking and touch the picture. While Russell doesn't look like Jake, there is something you can see in the picture that is reminiscent of him. They have the same sort of aura around them.

"He is your grandpa, then."

"Yeah, he's my Pops." Jake says, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. 

"They built a barn?" 

"Yes, Ma'am, and it's still standing today," Jake answers proudly. Then he closes the scrapbook and puts it back in the trunk. Before you can jump on the opportunity to ask about anything else in the trunk, Jake snaps it closed and puts it away. 

"Thank you for sharing with me, Jake." You tell him. 

"Thank you for listening."

"One of my favorite things," you answer almost cheekily. You glance over to Jake and find him already staring at you. 

"I can't imagine and don't understand people who settle for anything less than what my grandparents have," Jake says seriously to you.

"Is that why it didn't work out tonight with your date?"

Jake is quiet for a minute, like he is contemplating your question. "I guess you could say it's something like that."

"Wow. You really don't want to tell me about your date." You laugh. 

"You don't tell me about your dates," Jake says, a bit annoyed.

"Maybe that's because I haven't been going on any," you defend yourself. 

"You haven't?" He asks.

"No." 

"Oh," he responds. Then his eyes drop down to the puzzle table. He twists the top of the stain off and dips a rag into it. Your nose wrinkles a little bit at the smell, but you stay close next to Jake's side. 

"I would tell you about them," you finally say. 

"You would?"

"Of course, I would. I always want to tell you everything, all the time." You admit this like it's a secret. 

Jake sniffs before he bumps his elbow playfully into your side. "That's one of my favorite things, Sugar. Now, so this whole day isn't wasted, will you throw on some tunes and hang out while I finish this?"

Your mouth feels a bit dry at his words but you quickly reorient yourself. "Do you need help?"

"No, just company. Plus, now that the table is done, you have a job to do."

"What job do I have to do?" You ask, turning on the speaker in the garage and connecting your phone. 

"Honey, it's your turn to pick us out a new puzzle," Jake says. 

"Are you seriously going to let me?"

"Of course, I'll grab my puzzle chest for you to look through in a minute."

"What if I don't like any of those options?"

"Then we'll order one you do like," Jake shrugs. 

"What if you don't like the one I pick?"

"I'll like it," Jake says reassuringly. 

"Yeah, but what if you don't?" You ask again. 

"If you pick it out, I will like it, sugar," Jake tells you more firmly this time, leaving no room for questions or argument. It's reassuring and a warm sentiment, and it makes it difficult for you to stop grinning when you start digging through the handmade chest and examining the different puzzles in his collection. 

^^^^^^

It's a scene you wouldn't normally involve yourself with. However, it is Javy's birthday, so exceptions do have to be made for the holiday. You had never known how seamlessly Jake and Marlee could work together until watching them pull off this surprise party. 

 Jake had stayed up until two am the previous night finishing the banner. It said, "Happy birthday Javy!" with several planes on it, all being flown by very realistic depictions of Coyotes, the animal that is. You had been enlisted in helping put everything together, which you didn't mind, but Marlee and Jake had really taken the brunt of the work. 

Now, here you are in the bowling alley Jake had rented out, which is now filled to the brim with people enjoying the night. You knew Javy was funny, sociable, and well-liked, but this was genuinely so many people you were shocked. More than any of the bonfires or other parties the Machados threw. 

You were even actually having a lot of fun at first. You enjoyed talking and laughing with your mutual friends who had come to celebrate. You were still grinning from the feeling that had swept over you, watching how widely Javy smiled when Marlee walked him in, and everyone shouted surprise. After Javy kissed his wife silly and started to greet people, the high-five Jake and Marlee shared was so loud your own hand hurt watching it happen. It didn't make the scene any less heartwarming. Nothing quite paralleled the feeling of seeing the people who mattered most in your life together and having fun. All your enjoyment came to a screeching halt when you heard a conversation that definitely wasn't meant for your ears. 

"Showboating at someone else's birthday is a bit much, don't you think?" you hear coming from the conversation a few men were having near you. Curious, you followed where their gazes were turned. They were looking over at Javy, Marlee, Tazina, their little sister, and Jake. The four of them were playing doubles pool, and Jake was laughing at something someone had said while knocking balls into pockets effortlessly. 

"Showboats at work, during class, and PT, showboats at the bar. That's Hangman for you. I don't know why you are surprised. I don't think he can help himself, honestly," one of the men responds. 

"I don't know if his being dick helps anything or anyone." 

"Naw, man, you are just mad he nailed that maneuver before you last week."

"No," the first guy defends himself. "It's not that, dude. Plus you know I was flying earlier in the morning, and the weather was shifting."

"Oh yeah, Amber, you told us all about it." The third guy says, sounding exasperated like he had heard the excuse a million times.

"I don't know. Haven't you noticed something off about the guy?" Amber continues on, turning to more fully face his friends and you inch closer to hear better. 

"What do you mean?"

"The guy is an asshole. He's always making fun of everyone and then showing them up. The other day he had the audacity to tell me he already had the new manual memorized. We haven't had those longer than a week."

"Just ignore him, Amber." 

"Hard to ignore him when he is so loud and never shuts up." 

Jake did draw the eye and attention, oftentimes to an edge you knew he didn't even notice. Jake was high-fiving Tazina, after which he he picked her up and spun her around the table, gloating about their win loudly. It looked like a genuine celebration, though, not designed to specifically rub in anyone's face. And even though it was Javy's birthday, with his arm wrapped around Marlee and sipping a drink, he didn't look anything other than happy. You didn't like people talking about Jake; it made your skin crawl. They were the ones who could take a moment to celebrate whose birthday it actually was.

"Yeah, I don't know why Yote is always keeping Hangman around." One said. The comment shoots anger through you and short-circuits your brain a little bit. That was just one step too far over the line on these guys' part. 

You knew exactly why Javy kept Jake around. You knew just how close Hangman and Coyote were. You knew about the unbreakable bond they had foraged, brothers in every way that mattered to each other, wingmen, and best friends for life and death. Jake often joked that he and Javy would be bunked up together in hell just like they had been back in college. 

You knew about the time they went hiking, and a freak blizzard had trapped them together for two whole days. You knew the calls and hours they would spend together. You knew how Javy would pull Jake back from the edge, and Jake would do the same for Javy. The hours they would spend reading over a manual long after it was memorized, trying to find any hidden details together and discussing technicalities. You had been there before when Marlee called Jake, begging him to bring Javy home. Jake had gone to the gym to collect the aviator, who had been on the treadmill for hours. Times they were both struggling, Hangman would take Coyote to a wing restaurant there they would eat and have a beer before returning Javy home to his wife. 

The implication that their friendship was anything less than the bond of brotherhood, that Hangman somehow didn't give as much as he got from Coyote, was enough to boil your blood. The anger builds more and more, so much so, you decide that you have heard enough of the slander. Walking confidently over, you stop at the little partial circle they are standing in. 

"You guys are wrong," you tell them with a frown, capturing their attention.

"What's that, sweet thing?" One asks you, clearly confused. 

"Hangman is the one who put this together for him and flew their little sister out." 

"Okay, and?" Another one of the guys asks. 

"I heard what you were saying, and you are wrong. Hangman is the least selfish person I have ever met. If you can't keep up with him in the sky, that is a different issue. Maybe you shouldn't be paying so much attention to other pilots, and you might fly better. I understand not having a photographic memory must be hard for you, but I promise there are worse real handicaps people have to get over every single day." 

All three men's mouths fall open shocked at your words. One of them opens his mouth as if he is going to try and tell you off, but you don't give him a chance barrelling on.  

" And it's a real low blow for you to bring his brother into it like that on the man's birthday, too. You can talk shit about Hangman, and he will laugh it off any day. Say something about Yote; that's a different story. So, maybe y'all are the ones who should focus on the birthday boy while drinking the liquor Hangman paid for." You add sharply, nodding to the drinks in their hands from the open bar. All three men stare at you for a long moment, and you are surprised none of them has jumped into being an asshole to your face. You are a bit pleased when they all avert their gazes and look at least a little 

"Sorry, ma'am," the one in the middle utters, lowering his head. 

"I'm not the one you should apologize to." You say with a point towards the pool tables. The group nods and then scurries away and over to Javy, greeting him quickly and striking up a conversation. 

"You didn't have to do that," you hear a  familiar voice say. You turn around, shocked to see Jake lingering close. 

"What's that?" you ask, pretending to be confused, smiling at him. You aren't sure how much he heard or how long he had been there. 

"I don't care what those guys think, and Javy knows I care about him."

"I know," you say, and it's true. You know Jake cares very little about the opinion of people he doesn't deem impressive in their own right or part of his inner circle.

"I don't like hearing them say things that aren't true, though."  

"Unfortunately, whatever they were saying before was probably more on the side of truth than you want to believe," Jake says. 

"Hmm, maybe not about Hangman. They are wrong when it comes to Jake, though. And regardless, even Hangman cares about Coyote." 

Jake gives a full belly laugh at that statement, "Yes, that's true, Jake or Hangman, Coyote or Javy. We go together."

"Machado and Seresin, two peas in a pod."

"Wingmen for life," Jake confirms. 

"Best buds. In fact, y'all are so close I think that you are the only person that Marlee would get jealous over."

Jake only laughs more, but he doesn't disagree. "You didn't have to defend me. I've heard worse, and I'm sure they have said worse." 

"Of course, I will defend you, Jake. You would defend me," you say with a shrug. As far as you are concerned, it is easy math. 

"I wouldn't put up with you being lied about. If someone was saying something about you, I would do more than just defend you, sugar."

"I know you would," you say, taking a step closer to Jake. Jake welcomes your closeness and leans toward you as well.  

"I'm worried you don't know that I'm a bad guy." Jake suddenly says. He takes a pull of his drink and finishes it in one smooth motion. Setting his empty glass on a nearby surface, Jake steps even closer to you. The two of you are almost chest to chest now, only a few short inches between you. 

"You aren't a bad guy." You say, shaking your head at his words. 

"God damn it," Jake groans and rolls his eyes. He turns away from you and to the open bar full of alcohol behind you. He grabs a glass and starts to pour himself a shot. Jake throws the tequila back without flinching and licks his lips slating those intense eyes back on you. 

"I am, actually. You don't got to—" Jake says, but you cut him off. You don't want to hear anything less than nice and praiseworthy about Jake for the rest of the night, least of all, from him. It makes you too upset.

"You are good." You say insistently, needing him to understand. Jake just starts to pour another shot, his jaw clenching at your words. However, when he doesn't protest, you continue on, "I don't know who convinced you otherwise, but I am going to have a talk with them. 

"I would never let that happen," Jake says in a surprisingly forceful tone. 

"No?"

"Nope," he pops the p sound. "I would never have let him within a hundred feet of you, sugar. Let alone close enough to have a conversation." 

"Oh, Jake. Who?" you ask, trying to press him for details on the subject that has come up glancingly several times now. 

"Naw, I don't want to actually talk about it. I just wanted to set the record straight."

"You could talk to me, though." You set your hand on his arm, stopping him from hastily throwing back his next shot. 

"It's nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart," Jake grits out. 

"I'm sorry," you start feeling a little bad. "I won't push you anymore on it, but you can always talk to me." 

He does take the shot he poured, but it's much more deliberate and controlled than the first. When he sets the glass back down, he reaches for a lime slice and bites into it. After which, he finally utters a quiet "Thank you." 

Jake doesn't stay down for long. As often happens in social situations he blossoms, earning easy and casual attention by simply being himself, a feedback loop that puffs him up more, making his natural draw that much stronger. 

As the evening continues, everyone is pulled together to sing Javy happy birthday while he blows out candles on the massive cake Marlee had ordered. Once the cake is cut, everyone starts drinking more than any other activity, but the whole atmosphere is happy and warm. As the party starts to wind down and people leave. You observe and enjoy the atmosphere when an arm is wrapped around your shoulder. 

"Thank you," Javy says as his arm curls pulling you into one of his famous bear hugs. You squirm a little bit, trying to find breathing room, and laugh at him.

"Your callsign should have been Bear because of your hugs."

Javy finds this suggestion hilarious, and you attributed that more to him being drunk and less to do with your joke. As his chuckles start to enter the giggle category, you join in with him. 

"What are you thanking me for, birthday boy?" Once you two manage to stop laughing.

"Thank you for being so good to Marlee and Jake. I love them both so much. It's nice to have someone I know cares about them as much as I do." Javy says sincerely. 

"Well, they sure make it easy," you said with a shrug. Both you and Javy turn to look for the pair. Most people have left now, leaving only a handful of Javy's friends left as well as Marlee and Jake. Neither of you are surprised to see them sneaking over to the bar and picking out shot glasses together. 

"When are you going to give Marlee what she wants?" You ask Javy conversationally, settling an arm around his waist but pinching his side affectionately. 

"When are you going to give Jake what he wants?" Javy throws back just as casually. 

"Jake doesn't want anything from me," you say, deflecting that comment away. Javy just laughs and rolls his eyes. His laugh dies down, and he starts fiddling with his wedding ring. 

"I've been trying to give her what she wants. Well, I should actually say we have been trying for what we want, just no luck yet." Javy says it lightly, but you know your friend well enough to tell this is something that's weighing heavily on him. 

"Oh. I'm so sorry, Javy. Marlee didn't tell me." You rush out, feeling bad for bringing up the topic. 

"No apologies allowed. We have been keeping it on the down low. Just until there is something to tell, you know. If there is ever something to tell. It's been hard on us, though. Marlee feels like there's something wrong with her."

"That's not how it works," you say as concern fills you for your friend.  

"I know. We know. But I'll say this, you and Jake will probably be some of the first people we will tell.' 

"Oh, Javy, we'll be so excited for you. I'm here, you know. If y'all ever need anything. If she ever needs anything."

"Yeah, we know," Javy says and kisses your forehead. "Thank you for helping them put together this party. I know you helped more than you will admit."

"Anything for you, Coyote. You've had fun?"

"Yes, I have had so much fun. But I think that it is time for me to get the missus home." 

"Not before you have another shot. It's your birthday!"

"That's true," Javy says with a wide grin. "But only if you take one with me." You agree, as that had been your intention from the start. You tug a bit on his hip to get momentum going as you let go and move away from Javy. 

"Come on, before we miss another round," You say, starting to walk towards where Marlee was deliberating between different liquor bottles. Javy falls in step with you no hesitation. 

"It'll only happen when you say you are ready, you know." Javy throws your way. 

"What will? Shots?" you ask him, confused.

"No, what I'm saying is there is no rush with you and Jake. He is going to keep waiting. At this point, I'm pretty sure he will wait forever, as long as you need." 

"Coyote," you sigh. "He doesn't feel that way for me." Javy doesn't acknowledge what you said with anything more than a frown that quickly melts away. A few feet later, he throws his head back and howls at the ceiling tiles. 

The sound makes Jake's head snapped up and towards you two. With a wide grin, Jake throws his head back as well and howls in response. Jake is at your favorite stage of drunk, where he is giggly and overly affectionate. His eyes light up, seeing Javy. 

"Coyote," Jake says gleefully, borderline yelling. 

"Hangman," Javy replies, grinning back. 

"Where did you go? Jake asks, a pouty frown replacing his smile. He looks so upset you have to resist the urge to pull him into a hug and pet his hair. 

"I made sure Tazina got in her taxi safely, but then I was just over there, bud." Javy gestures generally in the direction that you two had been before. 

"Do you want to do a shot?" Jake asks, already pouring the drinks.

"Yes, we do." Javy agrees, gesturing towards you. He pats Jake's shoulder, giving him a little turn to face you better. Jake shifts his eyes off Javy to consider you for a moment, and his grin reappears. Once Jake moves, Coyote slips over to wrap his arms around Marlee, kissing her soundly on the lips. 

"Missed you," Marlee says, pulling Javy closer into a kiss that quickly starts to become less than PG-friendly. You snap your eyes back to Jake and away from your friends. Jake is completely oblivious to them, or more likely, it is that he is better used to their PDA. 

"Sugar!!" He says enthusiastically. "Thank god you're here. I have a huge problem."

"Oh yeah, what's that?" You ask Jake with a laugh. Marlee pulls her lips off of Javy's and turns to Jake wide-eyed. 

"Oh my god, Jakers! You are brilliant." Marlee gasps. You feel a tiny twinge of jealousy in you at someone else, even Marlee, using your nickname for Jake. 

"Marlene, of course, I'm brilliant. Has it taken you this long to realize that?" Jake says back to her sassily. 

"Hey, you don't be mean to my wife!" Coyote says, glaring at Jake. Javy untangles himself from Marlee, and then a few moments later, the two men are playfully roughhousing. Marlee drifts to your side, and you wrap an arm around her waist in a half hug. She immediately follows in kind, wrapping you in hers. 

"Love you," you tell her quietly. Marlee grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and squeezes you a little tighter. 

"I love you too, bestie." 

You both watch  Jake and Javy playfully shove each other a few more times. When Jake goes to put Javy in a headlock, you decide to intervene. 

"Hangman," you say. His attention is pulled off Coyote and to you instantly, his eyebrows drawn close together. 

"Yes, ma'am?" 

"What's this problem you were having?" You ask, directing the question half toward Jake and half toward Marlee. 

"Well, you see, Marlee and I have been trying to finish this alcohol, and we just desperately need help."

"That is something I think we can help with," you say, and Javy nods enthusiastically, which makes Marlee and Jake cheer loudly. 

The four of you all take some final shots. Then you ordered Javy and Marlee a ride home. Javy and Jake hug for almost five straight minutes while waiting outside for the taxi. You make sure to take several pictures, sending them in your group chat with the guys and Marlee. You are already looking forward to hearing them try to explain their behavior in the morning. You imagine that Jake will give a long-winded explanation about how it was Javy's birthday and there is nothing wrong with hugging his bestie on his birthday. 

Once your friends are headed home safely, you and Jake, who is still shockingly coordinated, clean up the remaining decorations, drink water, and settle up everything with the venue. Then you call a taxi for yourself. Now you two are waiting outside for your taxi. 

"We should repaint," Jake decrees. 

"Repaint?" You clarify. 

"Yeah," Jake says, and he hugs you from behind. His arms wrap around you snuggly, pulling you close. 

"What are we going to repaint?" 

"The kitchen, your room, the whole house. Everything, anything." Then he hums in your ear. Dragging his nose up your neck, giving you a small nuzzle. "Whatever color you want."

You take a moment, then think of Javy's words from earlier in the night. How Jake is just waiting. You wonder for a moment if that's true and what he could possibly be waiting for. What more did you need to show him for him to be convinced that you love him and it might be worth his time to love you back? You had been putting in the work and done everything you could think of. Not that the things you did for Jake were only to win him over, you did them because you loved him, of course. It just all seemed so obvious. 

"I don't get you, Jake," you whisper to him.

"Well, that's just not true. Honestly, I think you understand me more than anyone else," Jake says, squeezing his arms around you a minuscule bit tighter. 

"No. I don't think so. You build me tables, you cook, you make me laugh, and you cuddle with me. Now you want to let me choose the paint for your house. Why?"

"Why?" Jake echoes, sounding just as confused as you felt. 

"Yes. Why?" He spins you around, his hands find purchase on your hips holding you steady. 

"How could you not know why?" Jake looks visibly distressed, and his hands squeeze your hips almost tight. He is searching your eyes and face frantically, trying to understand. Then closes his eyes like he is trying to do some really hard mental math.

"I need to detail your car." He says a minute later with a solid nod. Then he turns you around and hugs you close again.

"No, Jake. I don't need you to do that," you squawk, having no clue where that idea even popped into his head from. 

He just hums against the crook of your neck where he settles his head. His breath is warm against your neck, making shivers run up and down you. 

"Seriously, don't," you reiterate. 

He nods his head against you, "It's happening, Sugar."

You are at war with yourself. You want to be upset at him; you want to love him. You want to shake him hard and make him see, really see you. 

"Jake, how drunk are you?" you ask.

"Hmmm, why?" He wonders. Jake doesn't get actually drunk very often. Normally he drinks in measured, careful amounts. Rarely brushing completely out of his limits of control. 

 "Because I'm wondering." 

"I'm not very drunk. I've been layering  in water all night." He tells you, and it's a relief to hear. Because maybe Jake not completely in control, is what you needed. There was a difference though, between letting loose and being entirely inebriated.

"I have a question for you."

"I have an answer," Jake replies easily. You are still deciding if you are going to take the jump when your taxi pulls up. You start to wiggle out of Jake's arms to greet the driver, but he holds you still.

 "What's your question, sugar?"

"I'll ask you when we get home," you say gently. 

Jake accepts that and unwraps himself from you. Once you two are settled in the back seat together, it is like a switch flips in Jake. He is alert, and if you hadn't been watching him do shots and drink all night, you would believe he was sober. He confidently gives the driver your address and makes an easy casual conversation. 

You can't take your eyes off of him, admiring what you can see in the dark. Your eyes flick down, and you watch as his hand slides across the seat, it is a confident movement. Jake's palm flips over, where he leaves it there open and waiting. 

You hesitantly brush your fingers against his but don't settle them. Jake's whole hand flexes, clenching, going to hold you but coming up empty. Then he relaxes again, letting his fingers spread a little wider. You look up and meet his gaze, which is now pouring into yours. He is still making casual conversation, but you know he is lasered in on you. 

So in the dark, in the back seat of the cab, you settle your hand into Jake's. As soon as you do, Jake curls his hand into yours, slotting your fingers. It's not the first time you have held hands, but it feels so charged and intimate that your breath hitches just slightly. 

Jake's thumb draws against the back of your hand the whole rest of the drive. It's a slow, steady repetitive movement. You try to figure out the pattern, and when you two are nearly home, it hits you that he is drawing a question mark, tracing it into your skin. 

You are home. Jake had let go of you only once, and it was to jog and open your car door for you. Your hand was placed back in his as he helped you out of the car. He hasn't let go of it again since then. 

Neither of you says anything as you make your way into your home. Jake stares at you expectantly, and you are considering chickening out of your earlier plan. Even more so when the time has stretched awkwardly that you've stood in the entry, and Jake pulls his hands out of yours.

However, before the panic can settle at the loss of his skin,  Jake is bending down on his knees, helping you out of your shoes. He massages each foot and then your ankles. You can't help the sigh of satisfaction that falls out of your lips. After which, he places your shoes on your shoe rack. He is much more methodical and quick about shucking his own shoes. Placing them in their spot, Jake stands and pulls off his jacket, still not saying anything.

Part of you wishes that he wasn't letting you out of it so easily, but the part of you that is scared, and a bit of a coward, is thankful, glad even. You expressed gratitude too soon. 

"Sugar," he says, following you as you start to make your way to the stairs. You turn to face him, swallowing down the nerves you feel. However, you don't say anything yet. 

"I have an answer," Jake reminds you steadily. His eyes are burning bright despite the dim hallway; only one of the nearby living room lamps you had left on provides light. 

"But you don't know the question." You tell him. Jake's eyebrows crease, and his lips purse. 

"I think I do." He says carefully. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth for a moment, and you watch intently as he bites it a few times before letting go. "Why don't you ask it anyways." 

"What's the answer?" You ask him. 

"What's the question?" He repeats. 

You clench your fists tight and drop your eyes to the ground, trying to steady yourself. He has never been explicit with you about any feelings and what you want to ask is a big jump. You try to think of how you can ease him into it, how you can entice him, let him know what you want, and spur him into action. You stare into his green eyes, looking for answers, and he gives you a tiny encouraging nod. 

"Do you care about me?" You finally ask. 

"Yes," Jake says almost before you finish the question. When he processes it fully, he nods his head again as if deciding that was actually true. His answer helps ease some of the tension you feel, and you feel slightly more confident. 

"I have another question." 

"I have an answer," he replies playfully. You step so you are close to Jake and rest your hand his chest. He dips his head down a little bit to get a better look at you. He adopts a soft sweet smile while putting his own hand over yours. You can feel the steady pace of his heart pumping. 

"Jake?"

"Yes, that's me, Honey."

"Do you want me?"

"Yes," he responds steadily, and the balloon of hope in you raises so high you think you might float. 

"Would you like to fuck me?" You finally manage to ask. The soft smile on Jake's face melts, and he physically takes a step back from you. Your hand falls limply to your side. Jake shuts his eyes tight and scrubs over his face a few times. Then he pulls at his hair before looking at you again.

"No," he responds quietly. 

"Oh," you whisper. 

"No," he repeats more firmly and adds, "I don't want just to fuck you." 

You try to think of something to say, but there is nothing. All you can do is force the closest thing to a smile you can muster on, and you nod your head shakily at him. You watch Jake's eyes widen as his eyebrows draw together. He starts to lean towards you, but you can't bare it. To feel his warmth close to you at this moment is the worst thing you can imagine. It feels as if you have hyperthermia; all the heat has been sucked out of your body. Jake's gentle touch would be like throwing you in the bath, the only thing you want and the thing that would only kill you faster. 

You hurt. You ache. You want to cry and scream and maybe some other dramatic reaction. You want to do anything that would help you get some of this hurt out. You know you can't finish this conversation. You stumble back a little bit. You briefly and wryly think it would have hurt less if he had physically hit you. Bruises fade from view; you just got to give it a few weeks. You don't think that your heart will recover this time.

As you back up, your heel hits the first step of the stairs. You quickly turn, grab the railing, and start to step up the stairs. Right now, all you can think to hold yourself together is that you need to get away and be alone. 

"Wait," Jake rasps and steps quickly after you. His hand catches your elbow, pulling you back a little bit, but you refuse to turn to look at him. He presses his face into your arm. All you can do to hold your sobs in is take short, gasping breaths. You couldn't fathom how he could touch you so tenderly after having just rejected you. 

"Stop it, Jake!" You beg him tugging on your arm. Jake lets it fall from his grasp. It's a slow movement, halting and trailing. You turn to see his eyes there, waiting to capture yours. His eyes burn looking into yours, the edges rimmed in red.  

"Just, stop." You sigh, again barely holding the lump at the back of your throat down. 

"I don't understand," Jake whispers to you. His hands reach towards you but drop back to his side quickly. Where he clenches them open and closed repeatedly. Jake's hands then fist into his hair and he rips at it as his leg bounces restlessly. You can't stop yourself from caring about him. You can't stop yourself from reacting. No matter if he just shattered your heart, you won't let him hurt himself. 

"What don't you understand?" You ask as you pull the hair elastic off your wrists and hand it to him. Jake takes it from you, and his fingers start working and fiddling with it. 

"I don't understand your reaction. Why are you mad at me?" 

"I'm not mad at you, Jake." You take a deep breath and release it slowly, "I'm mad at myself." 

"Were you wanting me to say yes?" 

You just shrug and step back up another step of the stairs putting more space between you. Jake follows, not allowing more than two stairs to separate you. 

"It's a yes or no question. I need you to be direct with me. Did you want me to say yes?"

"The question wasn't about what I wanted, Jake. It was about what you did." 

"Can I change my answer?" He asks you almost timidly. 

"No," you whisper. You are unable to stop the few tears that slip down your cheek. Your eyes are burning from trying to keep the rest of them at bay. 

"But it didn't come out the way I meant," Jake tries to explain.

"It was a yes or no question, Jake. It's okay that you said no," you rationalize, trying to use that as a balm to your own hurt. 

"But, if you let me explain," Jake says as he pulls the hair band so hard it snaps.

"I don't need an explanation. I just needed the answer, and you gave that to me." Then after a small pause, you add, "Thank you, Jake." 

"Please," Jake says in that same small voice. He has his lips pressed tightly together, and you see that this conversation has also upset him. 

"You are hurting my feelings," you whisper to him. Jake staggers three steps backwards down the stairs as soon as he processes the words. You take another step up the stairs, and he doesn't pursue after you this time. 

"Are we going to be okay?" He asks solemnly. You think about his words and what had happened. Sure he rejected you, but it was probably one of the kindest and easiest ways it could have happened. Plus, now you had your answer. You didn't have to wonder anymore. Now you and Jake could just be best friends and roommates. You would never stop carrying a torch for him, you knew you would always love him, and you would get to keep Jake in your life at least, which isn't such a bad thing. 

"We'll be fine in the morning," you tell Jake pushing away a few more tears. He nods but otherwise doesn't say anything. You nod back and go finally are able to finish your escape into your room. 

What you said is true too. In the morning, you and Jake are fine. Neither of you mentions what happened the night before, except for Jake complaining about the picture you took. You tease him back about if he really didn't like them, why did he save them to his phone's camera roll. Jake still details your car and provides swatches of different colors for your approval. It feels like you are both grateful that you can move past what happened. And beyond that gratitude is a lot of heartache. 

======= 

You had seen all the signs again for a few weeks now. It was yet another one of those times that you could tell something was stressing Jake out, but you didn't know what. It wasn't hard for you to assume it had to do with his work, either. Surprisingly, usually, if Jake could talk about something that was stressing him out, like his sports teams, family, friends, or the store running out of the specific brand of yogurt he liked, he would tell you about it. Now that you knew what the signs were, it was easier for you to try to intervene and suggest Jake use one of his outlets. He was always grateful when you did, one time having explained to you that he really didn't notice sometimes until he was in the depths. 

You could tell this one was gearing up to be bad. Jake had cleaned the house from ceiling to floor, literally. He had washed the walls and scrubbed baseboards. Then he power-washed the driveway. The cleaning wasn't enough. You could see it in how he circled around the house like a shark as if ceasing to move would cause him to suffocate and die. He was staying up and working on projects in the garage until midnight. He went through every single box and chest in the attic. He also forced you to climb up the ladder so you would see the entire section he cleared out and left for you.  

What finally set you into action about intervening though was when you came home and Jake had baked 300 Pierniki mini cakes for the Big Brother Big Sister program he was involved with. When you asked if there was an event, he told you his little brother, Ryland, had a bake sale. Checking the flier that Jake had put up on the fridge, you saw the sale wasn't happening for a month and a half. You had sat with Jake in the kitchen as he baked, cooled, and packaged the Pierniki so they could go into the freezer while he cleaned. All the while found and ordered a gift you thought Jake might really enjoy as an outlet. 

When the package arrived, you spent more time wrapping it than you had any other gift in your life. You made sure that every one of the corners was folded and taped perfectly straight, as well as the bow. You were so excited you couldn't wait to tell him like you originally planned after dinner. 

"I got you something," you tell him, trying hard to hold back the excited grin that was threatening to give away your feelings. You wave Jake over, asking him to join you in the living room. 

Jake, who is fresh from a shower, has wet floppy hair and then his eyes take in the wrapped box on the table, and he almost looks alarmed. He approaches the box cautiously and guarded. 

"What is it?" He asks. 

"It's a surprise!" His expression doesn't change hearing that, so you add on, "If you really want to know, I can tell you what it is before you open it. Or unwrap it for you."

"Is it a good surprise?"

"I think so."

"Did you spend a lot of money on it?"

"I will not be disclosing that information," You answer in an overly sweet voice. It makes the expression on Jake's face crack, his lips quirking in a half-amused smile. 

He is reverent about unwrapping the gift. You can see the hesitant excitement on his face as he methodically unties the ribbon and finds each seam to pull. However, once Jake gets a peek at the box underneath, the wrapping is tearing before he has a second thought. He spares the paper a mournful glance. You just nudge the large box towards him, silently telling him it wasn't anything to overthink. 

"An aircraft carrier?" Jake's eyes drop to the model ship box as he takes in the details, analyzing the picture on the front. 

"I know that it isn't the same as yours, but —" 

"Sugar," Jake says, cutting you off. However, you barrel onwards anyways. 

"Listen, I can tell things have been hard for you lately. I don't know what's wrong, and I know if I ask, you can't tell me what it is. But," you sigh, frustrated, trying to remember the planned speech you had been practicing for when he opened this. 

"I don't want it to get so bad I come home and find out you jumped the gun on starting our next puzzle," You say. Jake laughs wryly and grimaces at that reminder.

"Not that would be bad if you wanted to, I wouldn't stay mad about it, I promise. But I thought this could be something different for you to work on with the stress. I think models like this could be right up your alley." you finish with a forced smile.

A minute of silence grows from one to two then three. Jake hasn't looked away from the box once, gripping the cardboard so hard there are indents now.

"Jake?" you ask cautiously, confused by his reaction. He ignores you and stays frozen there.

"Jake?" You ask again, a little louder. 

"Hangman," You finally try. 

Hangman's eyes snap up from the box and meet yours. "I'm shipping out, and I haven't figured out how to tell you." 

"Oh." you are so shocked you have no idea what to say. The box falls from your hands, and despite Jake's death grip, it slips out of his, too banging against the table. Neither of you pays it any mind. 

"When?" 

"Got about two weeks left, now."

Now. Jake said, now. It clicks for you, and can pinpoint it. You know the exact day that he must have gotten the news, about three weeks ago. He had come home after being at the gym for an extra hour and made one of your favorite meals. Jake hadn't said much and had scrubbed the kitchen after until it sparkled clean. 

"Oh, that isn't enough time for us to do this or a puzzle," is what you finally say, gesturing to the model box. Because what else can you say? You can't be mad that he hadn't told you, not really. 

"I was going to tell you, I promise. I've just been finalizing a lot of stuff and getting all the ducks in line."

"What kind of stuff?"

"I," he goes quiet and then clears his throat. "I updated my will, and I've been setting all my bills on auto-pay, making sure most of the maintenance around here is taken care of for a while. You know, all the checklist stuff."

"How long are you going to be gone?" You wonder out loud. 

"I don't know, six, maybe nine months," Jake responds clinically. Your heart clenches. Six months without Jake. Six months alone in this house.

"I'm going to miss you." You eventually manage to whisper out. Jake inhales sharply, hearing it. 

"I'm mad about it," he responds in a similarly delayed manner. 

“No, need to be mad Hangman. You know better than me how the Navy is. You would be just as well off being mad at God." Your joke is rewarded with one small chuckle, but Jake's serious face returns just as fast. 

"I've got so much stuff I've been working real hard on," Jake admits. 

"And you will be able to keep at it when you get back."

"There is no guarantee of coming back with the Navy either, Sugar."

"You'll come home, Jake."

"You think so?" Jake asks you. You are slightly comforted by the playful tone he adopts. 

"Yes, or else I'll reorganize all your books," You say. 

"Hmm, I don't think I would care if you do. Put them any way you like, sweetheart."

"I'll use your tools in the garage then."

"You are more than welcome to the shop anytime. Don't forget the color coding system." You both chuckle and take the moment to draw a steadying breath in. 

"I won't ever change the batteries for the fire alarms ever again." That one does provoke a reaction from him. His eyes dart to his watch. Jake stares at it hard. 

"Good reminder. Thank you, I'll text Yote the battery schedule. He will take care of it." Jake then loosened his watch's dark leather band by one notch; he shook his wrist out after, and the watch twisted out of place 180 degrees being so loose. 

"I'll do the new puzzle with someone else," you say, deciding you have to break out the big guns. 

"You wouldn't dare." Jake snaps. His attention was drawn entirely back to you. He plays up the part of mock outrage with impressive theatrics. 

"I certainly would." You wouldn't, actually.  

"Well, that's it then. I have to come home to you." 

"You never have to do something you don't want. There is no 'have to.'" You remind him, throwing air quotes in around the words. 

"Yes, there is," Jake tells you plainly and honestly. 

"What can I do to help you get ready to leave?" You ask to steer the conversation back on track. 

"Nothing and I don't want you acting differently on me out of nowhere, please. I understand if you need space because I kept it from you. But leaving is just part of my life; it doesn't need to be the end of our universe." 

"I'll try not to be weird, and I'll have months of space later," you console Jake. 

He looks at you, hopefully. Clearly, Jake had been expecting you to have a more adverse reaction. When you don't, and you open your arms to hug him, Jake melts into you. As you pet Jake's hair, you use it as a distraction to not think about the fact that he didn't say he would miss you back. It was probably just another one of those things that he didn't want from you. 

"You got us a new puzzle?" He asks you quietly after a while. 

"Yeah, it was also going to be a surprise. I originally got it as a birthday present for you. But I also thought it would be a good backup in case you didn't like the model." 

Jake shifts on the couch so he is lying down and buries his face into your tummy. His body starts to shake, and alarm shoots through you. You don't know what to do except continue playing with Jake's hair and occasionally running your hand down his neck and back in what you can only hope is a soothing motion. 

"What kind of puzzle?" He asks when his shudders die down. His head is still pressed into you, the words muffled. 

"I had it custom-made."

Jake pulls his face away and looks up at you, his eyes slightly puffy and rimmed red. "A custom puzzle?"

"I found this company that makes high-quality jigsaw puzzles out of real wood and then does a replica painting on it." You explain to him. Jake makes a sound closely resembling a whine and buries his face into your tummy again. 

"What painting? Can I see it?" is the next thing he asks. 

"Do you really want to know what it is?" 

"Maybe not." he finally says after long quiet contemplation. "Then I probably wouldn't stop thinking about it." 

"Don't worry, I won't touch it while you are gone. It'll be here waiting for you." I'll be here waiting for you, went unsaid, but you were sure he must feel it; he must know. 

 Jake sits up then, and he is so close to you, only inches away. He is staring at you intently, his breath mingling with yours. You smell the lingering mint that his toothpicks always leave. It takes all of your willpower to resist leaning forward those last few inches to finally find out how much the taste lingers as well. 

Jake's green eyes examine your eyes keenly. Then he is leaning forward, and everything else freezes. Your breath hitches in anticipation, and your heart beats so loudly it drowns out all other sounds. You part your lips the smallest bit in anticipation. At the last moment, Jake turns millimeters to the left, and his lips catch your cheek and just the smallest corner of your mouth. Jake's nose drags up your cheek slightly, almost a nuzzle, as he shifts to press a kiss to your forehead as well. 

"Thank you for the model. It's a thoughtful gift. I'll find somewhere we can store it." Jake whispers into your skin. 

Jake's warm body pressed against yours saps the strength, and you lean heavily into him. It seems to be what Jake had been waiting for when he pulls you down on his chest and pulls the back of the couch blanket over your form, tucking in the edges. 

"Why did you pick this specific aircraft carrier?" He eventually asks, his hand smoothing down your back. You press your face into the crook of his neck and shoulder, sighing and relaxing even more.  

"It's the same one Mr. Russ was on. I saw it in one of your pictures." You explain slowly to him, hoping he won't be upset you did a little snooping for your gift. He isn't. Jake makes a hum of acknowledgment but otherwise doesn't comment. 

"What do you need? What can I do for my favorite girl before I go?" Jake's asks, also sounding tired. His Texan twang deepens to a level you have only heard when he is half asleep. You would bet if you were to remove yourself from this embrace, you would find Jake's eyes had already drifted closed. 

"I don't want you worrying over me when you have 100 other things to think about." 

"So stubborn," Jake sighs. It's quiet then, and you relax more into Jake, starting to walk the line between napping and still awake. 

It was one of those naps you never wanted to wake up from. If the universe was kind, it would have let you stay there forever, or at least until you had your fill of Jake. But that request would be a bit longer than forever.  

Two weeks is a much shorter amount of time than you had previously thought. You could only hope the time would keep flying by when Jake was gone. There was packing, doctor's appointments, meetings, and so many goodbyes. Every day there seem to be more goodbyes happening than there were before. 

You had asked him one day as Jake was throwing together some lunch how he stood it. Jake shrugged at first, saying that he got used to it, and now it was just part of the process. Then he had opened up to you and admitted that goodbye sometimes could still exhaust him, and it felt like he was handing out more farewell memories than he had left in him. Jake tried to explain to you that he knew most of the goodbye weren't about him but rather the people he was leaving, so he made time for it. 

"I'm sure your barber would understand if you canceled the dinner with him after your next appointment," You suggest to Jake, trying to see where more time could be made for whatever his secret project out in the shop he had been staying up way too late working on. 

"Honey, I don't think you understand how important a man's barber is." 

"Okay, okay." You say placatingly. Better to leave Jake alone concerning the 2 and ½ hour appointment he scheduled for that. 

"Okay, well, I only see two other times you can cut into," You tell Jake, scrolling through the schedule he had made for his remaining time. 

"Yeah?" He asks from where he is standing by the stove. 

"Tomorrow, when Javy and Marlee come over, or you have this blocked-off time on your last night. The whole evening is blocked off. It doesn't say with who, though." You tell Jake while locking his phone and setting it lightly back on the countertop. 

"Those are the two worst things to shorten," he mutters. Jake blows out a long-frustrated breath. 

"Sorry, Jakers." 

"I'm glad you looked because I was setting that time aside for me. For us to say goodbye to each other."

"Just us?" You ask. 

"If you're free, yeah." You hadn't thought about confronting your own goodbye with Jake. Well, you had, but anytime you did, the emotions you were trying hard to bottle up would threaten to explode, rattling violently behind your ribs.

"That works out perfectly, then. We will push back hanging out by a few hours, giving you plenty of time to finish your project." You grin at him, pleased you were able to figure it out together. 

Jake picks up his phone, frowning. "Yeah, absolutely not. I would beg to monopolize you for the whole day if I knew you didn't have an appointment."

"Jake, what are you talking about? I cleared out that whole day." You check your own calendar to confirm this and run through your mental one as well. 

"I know you did. That's why I'm treating you and Marlene to relax and get your nails at the spa." 

You blink at him, not sure that you heard that correctly. He is typing on his phone, but you see the cheeky look he has every time he looks up. Jake is very pleased with his surprise for you.

"I think I would rather spend that time with you," you tell Jake honestly. He softens hearing that from you. His dimples make a full appearance, and Jake seems less exhausted and more alert. 

"I appreciate that, but I think it will be good to relax for a bit. I've been worried that you've been more worried and stressed than I am. It's important to think of your own needs." Jake reminds you gently. 

"Wow, thank you."

Jake's large hand is warm when it covers your and gives you a quick squeeze. "I'll be an hour or so late with the Machados, but they will understand."

"It'll all work out, Jake," you tell him confidently. 

"Yes, Ma'am. I think it will." Jake responds, but he breaks eye contact before saying it, making unease creep its way under your skin. 

Now, it was his last day. By this time, the next day, Jake would be gone. You had a lot of fun at the spa. It was mostly relaxing. Marlee knew the best ways to keep your spirits high and your mind from wandering too far. Jake had asked that you texted him when you were on your way home. You had but never heard anything back. Even once you got back to the house, you didn't hear anything. You got dressed in something cute but comfy, which Jake had told you was the dress code. After waiting a bit longer, you finally decided to seek him out. 

Downstairs, You hear some banging in the garage, which leads you there. You half push open the door but not so wide you risk ruining whatever surprise could be there, waiting a moment before calling his name. 

"Yes, Ma'am?" Jake says after a decent pause. Then you hear the slamming of three different heavy lids, probably one of his trunks, you assume. 

"Is everything going okay? Is there any way I can help?" You ask while opening the door wider. Before you commit to stepping out into the garage, though, a hand stops the door's movement. Jake standing right in the doorway with you now. 

"Just some last-minute list things," he says almost too cheerily. 

"I thought we checked everything off the list?" Just the day before, you and Jake had crossed off the last items on his pre-deployment checklist. Both of you had been glad to have things done a day early. After a high five, he had picked you up and spun you around the room twice before letting your feet touch the ground again.

"We did," Jake responds, reassuring you. "This is just something that popped up in my head. Not a big deal or anything you need to worry about. Plus, some of the last-minute stuff for tonight."

"Jake, I thought we were just being comfy, hanging out, and saying goodbye?"

"We are," Jake confirms. 

"You aren't going to elaborate, are you?" You ask. 

"I don't want to. But if you really can't take it being a surprise, I'll tell you." Jake admits. You think about it before shrugging and stepping back into the house. Jake follows you in and shuts the garage door firmly behind him. 

"I can wait," you sigh with a pout. Your answer makes Jake smile, though, so you can't really be upset. 

"I am going to change. Will you be ready in fifteen?" 

"Sounds good," you confirm. Jake gives you a thumbs up and starts to jog up the stairs, but halfway up, he comes back down three at a time. 

"I'm sorry. I forgot to ask about your nails." Jake exclaims, shifting his gaze expectantly. You show the design you choose to Jake. He compliments them several times, pleased you had a fun time before he ran up the stairs again. 

"I have a question that's going to shape our whole night. Do you want to go on a drive?" Is what Jake asks you when he returns in a different set of clothes. 

"Sure. Let's go for a drive." You agree. You know Jake has the whole night planned, a fact that makes you a little giddy. It also makes the idea that he built choices for you into the plan even sweeter. He guides you out the front door to where his truck is waiting before helping you inside. Then you two are on the road driving, and an almost painful tense silence descends. 

"This is nice," you finally say, fiddling with your seatbelt. 

Jake shoots a small smile at you like it is a hard thing to do. A harrowing sight on the face of a man born to grin. Jake's mouth never knew when to quit; whether a sarcastic remark quip or an easy smirk, it was up to something. 

"You can't relax, can you?" You ask when he still doesn't say anything. Jake's shoulders slump at your question. 

"No, I can't. My mind is flying faster than my jet."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, thank you." 

You hadn't expected him to take you up on the offer, but you had hoped he would.

"Let me help you," you beg softly. Jake's hands tighten around the steering wheel, and his knuckles whiten. 

"Six months is a long time. Nine, even more. I could come home in nine months, and you could have a baby." 

"A baby?" you splutter. Jake nods back solemnly. 

"A baby, a husband, new friends, a different car. You could have a whole new life." Jake says these like each one is not only in the realm of possibility but also that he expects them all to happen simultaneously. 

"Well, I'm not planning for any of those things to happen. And I can tell you, with certainty, there won't be a baby or husband."

"Never say never."

You did want to say never, though. You wanted to hammer that point home to him. The idea of having either of those things without Jake intrinsically involved isn't even fathomable to you anymore. You can't say that out loud. You can't open that conversation because, in a matter of hours, he will be gone. It was beside the point to tell Jake that you already had a whole new life, one with him. 

"Okay, Justin Bieber. Never say never." You tell him by throwing air quotes around the phrase with an eye roll. 

Jake cracks a weak chuckle at your joke and settles back in his seat, fighting the urge to fidget. Then he summarizes, "It's a long time."

"It's not so very long. Less time than I've lived here." You mention. Jake nods along with your words, but they don't seem to help him feel any better. 

"Come, Jake, what's really bothering you?" You pry again. 

"I'll tell you, just give me some breathing room, Sugar. Please." Jake requests. 

You apologize for being pushy, which Jake instantly forgives, and silence descends. Jake drives until he finds somewhere to park the truck for y'all to look at the stars. He had carefully led you across the uneven ground to the back of the truck. You gasp when you see the setup. 

In the truck back, you find a blown-up air mattress filling the space, along with ample blankets and pillows. There is also a cooler and picnic basket in the back corner. Jake helps you get in the back before anything else. As you get comfy, he rolls the canvas top of his soft-shell camper back, revealing the quickly approaching night sky. It's a beautiful setup, and your compliments over it are waved off by Jake nonchalantly. However, he can't completely hide the pink that dusts his cheeks either. 

Once on the bed, Jake settles infuriatingly far away from you, leaving a large gap. No part of you is even close to touching. He stares up at the stars, looking troubled. You have already tried to push him to talk to you tonight, though, so you won't again. Instead, you simply enjoy the moment and look up at the stars.  

"Thank you," Jake says a while later. You don't ask what for. It doesn't feel necessary. You also worry about how long he might drag out a list. 

Jake slides his hand across the space between you. You are alerted to it when you feel the light brush of his pinky along yours. You turn your hand and let it catch his. As always, Jake wastes no time taking what he is given. He threads his fingers with yours, and his thumb starts up tracing along the back of your hand and wrist. 

"Is this where you draw all the constellations out for me and wow me with your impressive knowledge of astronomy?" 

Jake huffs a small laugh, "Not this time, sugar."

"Have I finally found something you don't know about, Jake?" You playfully gasp. 

"Oh, please, honey. You know me better than that." Jake chastises, turning his head away from the sky to give you an unimpressed look. 

"Yeah, I do. You are probably about to tell me how you did an internship at NASA." Jake opens his mouth with a tiny smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. Your eyes widen, and you speak before he can say anything. "I swear you better not be about to tell me you did have a NASA internship. I will lose my mind." 

Jake snaps his mouth shut, but the small smug smirk doesn't fade from view. You move, so you are more propped up to see more of his face. You try to analyze any hidden information on his features there. 

"Goodness. Jake, no way. Did you actually?" You ask. The longer Jake leaves you hanging, the more unsure you are. 

"Do you know what my dream is?" He asks you, ignoring your question and changing the topic. You huff in annoyance. It's not annoying; you can't feel that when trying to be some porous surface attempting to absorb as much as possible. The fact that he will be gone haunts your every movement and word in hours.  

"What's your dream, Jake?" You respond good-naturedly. 

"To go on Jeopardy," he answers automatically. It's a quick, instant response. You laugh at him, and his chuckles join in moments later.  

"We could probably make that happen." You say when you can breathe properly again. You picture getting Jake on the show, where he would insist on wearing his whites. 

"It's not my only dream, though," Jake says warmly. 

"Is it not?" you say lightly. 

"No," Jake responds in a much more serious tone. You abandoned the pretense of looking at the stars. Turning on your side, you stare at Jake instead of trying to memorize him. The slope of his nose and of the line of his neck. 

"Has it always been your dream? When you were a little kid, did you want to grow up and be on Jeopardy?"

"It was one of them," Jake reveals. 

"What were some of the others?" Jake's hand goes loose in yours, and you think that he might pull away. That you had overstepped. 

"Common Jakers, you can tell me. It's okay if you want to be something weird." 

"They aren't worth mentioning, and I don't want to trigger you with anything, sugar."

"Why would I be triggered?" You ask him, giving his hand a small squeeze. 

"Not everyone would call my childhood warm, but it could have been worse. I know that isn't the best topic."

"I want you to tell me, Jake. I'll stop you if it's too much, okay?" You say after thinking of your boundaries and the likelihood something would trigger you. 

"You promise?" He asks. Jake turns his head again to meet your eyes deadly seriously.

"Yes, I promise. Now, what was little Jake's dream job?"

"It was to be a pilot."

"You're living the dream job, then?"

"Yeah, I sure am. However, back then, I wanted to be a pilot, so I could fly far away." The weight of his words isn't lost on you. 

"Jake, what happened? You can tell me if you want." He heaves a heavy hard sigh at your kind words. He is clearly preparing himself to speak about something difficult. 

"My dad wasn't a good man, and my mama let him break her. He broke me too. To the outside world, he seemed like the perfect loving husband and father. At home, it was a different story. My dream was to be free, be a bird finally let out of my cage. 

"The older I got, the better I was at taking the beatings. There was this one time I was 13 years old and chopping some wood for Miss Celeste. I was doing it wrong, I guess, so he threw a log at my head. It hit me so hard that I saw stars, and my ears rang for two days after. Tali had to superglue my head closed enough that I would be able to walk over to see Miss Celeste and get it properly stitched up." Jake reaches up his hand, and it ghosts along the back of his head, remembering the age-old hurt. His eyes briefly press tightly closed, shutting out the memory.

"After that, I figured I could take any beating, any lecture, any mean word. I could take it all. So, I did take it all. I wasn't going to let him hit my ma or my sister. I learned how it wasn't hard to capture his attention. Especially if he was already worked up." 

You want to cry for him. You can't get the picture of Jake as a young, bruised, beaten, and bloody child out of your head. That boy walking the five miles to his grandmother's house, half stumbling, half running. Jake having poked at his dad before a hand came down on his mom or sister. How it was probably a common occurrence. 

"Jake, I am so sorry." You squeeze his hand sympathetically, feeling your heartache painfully for him. 

"When I finished my first year at USNA, I decided enough. After plebe summer, I was probably the most fit I have ever been in my whole life. It's funny how he raised me to go to a military academy, and that was the same place that would be the end for him. I went home for winter break, and everything had changed. I was bigger than him, stronger, quicker. I knew I was better in every way than him. I hadn't just done well at USNA. I had excelled, thrived even. There was absolutely no reason to cower and take it anymore. So, the next time he tried to hit me over winter break, I took it, but I warned him. I said I'm a grown man. You hit me again; I'll hit you back."

"And?" You gasp. 

"I stayed true to my word like any half-decent man would. The next time he hit me I hit him back." Responds Jake not able to completely keep the hint of satisfaction out of his voice. Your fingers flex in his, and Jake takes a long-measured breath. He shrugs nonchalantly but you can see the tension he is holding. 

"I would always goad his anger onto me. If I found him already mad at Ma or Talia, I would find some way to make sure his attention came back to me. I could take a punch in the face, a slap, or some other punishment. It was easier to explain that Jakobi is scrappy and gets into fights with the ladies and church than for my mom to try and claim she fell again or some other half-ass excuse." 

"Everyone just pretends like nothing is happening," you say quietly. 

"Yup. They don't want to address it, but how could they not know?" 

"Exactly," you confirm, thinking of similar situations you went through growing up. 

"It was my first-time home since Winter, and Miss Celeste and Mr. Russ were even coming over for dinner. Dad didn't like how Ma set the table, it wasn't hard for me to step in. Then the next thing I know, he is in my face screaming everything under the sun. Mind you, not any of it was good, and then he tried to punch me. 

"I hit him back, and I didn't fucking stop. Not until there was blood, and then I kept going for a bit more. After taking it over and over for my whole life, I snapped. Don't know what would have happened if Miss Celeste and Mr. Russ hadn't shown up." 

Jake is squeezing your hand hard. Even though the air is cool and fresh in the back of the pickup, it feels tainted, full of long-past memories and hate. Jake takes a moment, clearly needing a breather, regulating the old emotions bubbling in him. 

"It was stupid and risky. If he hadn't been so ashamed, if he wasn't so full of pride, my Da' could have ruined everything for me. Wouldn't have been hard to get my ass thrown in jail and kicked out of the naval academy. 18 years of work and my future and life could have been down the drain in one fell swoop. I am lucky. He knew how that would look reflected back on him. Beat within an inch of his life by his own son, and then that same son was dishonorably discharged. It is probably the only reason I got away with it."

Jake shakes his head wryly; you watch as he uses his free hand to pull his toothpick case out of his pocket. He secures one tightly in his teeth, the minty smell drifting towards you as he snaps the case shut. 

"He deserved it. He deserved every blow, and a million more still wouldn't have been penance for what he did. I think he learned his lesson, in the end. He didn't try to fight me unless he was very drunk after that. Was better to Tali and Ma too."

"And now?"

"Now, he is dead," Jake says plainly, not betraying any grief or sadness over that fact to you. 

"Oh," you say. You think maybe you should say you're sorry, but that wouldn't be the truth. Instead, you are glad that this man who committed such evil and was so terrible to Jake is no longer around. 

"He died four months before I got my wings." 

"Oh, Jake. That is so much. I'm sorry you had to deal with all of that." You whisper. Pulling your hand, he still has clenched in his grasp up to his lips. Jake presses a lingering kiss to your pulse point. 

"No need to be sorry. It's in the past. I wish I could have stopped it sooner. Protected Tali and my Ma better. They never deserved to go through that." 

"You didn't deserve to go through that either," You add to Jake's statement. 

"I don't know. It was my responsibility to take care of them. I never should have let that all happen in the first place. I could have stood up to him much sooner. I will say, at least it gave me a leg up in basic." You try to contain your cringe hearing that mentality from Jake. 

"No, Jake, stop. You don't understand. You didn't deserve to go through that. You still would have made it through Plebe year just fine. And you're wrong. It was never your responsibility." You try to impress upon him. 

"Of course, it was my responsibility," Jake protests. 

You sit up, no longer able to handle the nonchalance of lying down for this conversation. He keeps your hand in his, not letting you pull away from him. Jake needs to know this, though. You need him to understand. Cupping his cheek with your free hand, you make sure his eyes aren't anywhere but on yours. 

 "You were a child, Jakers. A kid. I don't care if you're a boy or the oldest. You were a child. You had adults around you. It was their responsibility to protect you. It was your Ma's and Miss Celeste and Mr. Russ. They should have been the ones helping you. It was their job to do that, not the other way around." 

Jake's mouth drops in as he processes your words. Then he whispers. "I guess I was just a kid." 

"You wouldn't expect Franny to do what you did. Would you?" You ask him gently. At the mention of his niece, Jake's teeth clench together. You can practically see the anger bubbling in him at anyone even saying something unkind to his niece, let alone what he went through. 

"No, I wouldn't," he grits out. 

"No, you wouldn't," you agree with Jake's answer. 

His stubble prickles at your hand, but you ignore the feeling and continue watching him. His green eyes meet yours steadily as Jake tilts his face to kiss your palm. After which, he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath like he is preparing himself for something. 

"I have to tell you something. I can't leave before apologizing or having this conversation. You deserve me to be fair to you, and you deserve to be treated right. So, I need to put something out there in the open, just in case you haven't figured it out or it hasn't been made clear yet."

"You can tell me anything, Jake." You tell him steadily despite that extremely ominous intro. You hope it will help him feel at ease, but if anything, he tenses up more. Moving so that he is sitting up, Jake's face is pulled from your hand. He retracts his hand from yours as well. Your palm feels cold without his and a little sweaty, which only adds to the overall chilling effect. 

"I am broken, Sugar. I think I know what you want from me, but I am too messed up. I can't give that feeling back to you like you deserve. I want it to be clear it's not you. I don't think I can truly ever feel that way. I don't know if I'm capable."

You briefly consider what you are hearing; Jake knows you love him and has probably known for a while. It doesn't hurt as much as you thought it would. What hurts more is that he feels this way about himself. You do your best to swallow down your own feelings and put them in the corner to unpack and deal with some other time when you are alone. 

"Oh. I see." You finally manage to stutter out. Jake does look genuinely apologetic and upset as well, which is some small consolation. 

"I just. I can't. I'm not built for it. Whatever that part is in people that lets them feel and talk that way, I'm missing that piece. I don't think it's even missing. I never had one to start with. I wish I could. I wish for you, but I am broken, Sugar. I am so sorry." 

You want to protest. You want to shake Jake and tell him he isn't broken. He can love, he should love, and he does love all the time. You see that aspect of him constantly. You see it when he calls his niece every week. His phone calls with his Ma and Mrs. Celeste. The way he worries over his junior officers. You see it when he spends time with Javy and Marlee. More often than not, Jake is almost bursting at the seams with love. 

You suck in a deep breath as you consider how Jake can express love. You can't help but consider how he is with you. Jake has been showing he cares about you. You have never once questioned if he had any affection or positive feelings for you, only if any romantic ones were mixed in. That all the actions you thought were hints, a slight implication he might feel the same way, were actually declarations. 

And now here Jake is saying that is all he can give you. How Jake has loved you all along. He is trying to tell you, 'Here it is. Here is my affection. This is the best I can do. You won't ever get more than what you have right now. 

You think about that for a minute. You would never get more from Jake. He will never say the words he loves you, and he will never romantically love you. There won't ever be rings, or a honeymoon, no anniversaries. There won't be a cute baby with a mix of your and Jake's features. 

So, you have to decide if what he does give you is enough. Was doing puzzles with him enough? Was talking for hours on end? Was cuddling? Maybe not, you briefly think. However, when you think of the feeling of safety, he provides that you had never experienced anywhere else. You think of that, and you have your answer. 

You accept it. You can live with it; you can love him enough that it fills in the gaps. Knowing he loves you at all, even a little bit, even if he cannot say it. It's enough. It's enough to get to keep him. It's enough because even if Jake believes he isn't capable of love, that's part of him, and if it's part of Jake... well, water is wet, isn't it? 

"You aren't broken, Jake," you finally say after long and quiet deliberation. 

"I am," he disagrees. "I'm twisted and broken. I can't be good for you." 

"God, Jake. You already are. Sweet man." You firmly reach out to hold his cheeks in both hands, staring hard into his eyes. Your grip is firm. "Handsome, you already are a good man to me."

Jake shakes his head against your hold and slams his eyes closed. You soothe your thumb across the stubble on his cheeks, tracing extra softly under his eyes. However, he refuses to open them for you again. 

"Listen to me, Jake." He screws his eyes even tighter at the request. It reminds of a little bit of a petulant child, and despite your own heartbreak, you just want to smooth the lines of his face out and make sure this isn't hanging over him before he goes. 

"Jakobi," you beg in the softest, sweetest tone possible. You wait for him to open back up before going on. You hate trying to gauge his emotions when you can't see his face. He does eventually open them, with his gaze trained on you. In the dark, you can't wholly make out the green of his eyes, but that's okay. 

"You are good, and you are a gift, an absolute marvel. You are not broken. You don't have to feel any which way for me. You do not have to be anything more than you are right now. You could never change or completely change, but I will still love you the same."

"Thank you," he says. 

"No need to be thankful for the truth," you tell him kindly. 

He shocks both of you by crying. You are so surprised by it that your hands fall from his face. A tear falls down Jake's face, and he pushes it away, looking at his wet fingers in surprise. His eyebrows quirk, drawing together in the middle. Then more tears fall as he blinks in distress. The more he cries, the more upset he seems to be about the fact that he is crying. 

"Jake, can I hold you?" you ask him hurriedly but not wanting to trigger him further with any unwanted touch. Jake nods, and he turns towards you falling into your embrace. You wrap your arms around him and pull him into your chest. Jake's arms snake around your hips, pulling you flush to him.

The two of you just hold each other for a long while, breathing each other in. When Jake pulls out of the embrace, he doesn't go far. He only pulls away to fully look at your face. 

"You know, I can't leave without hearing your laugh. I think that's one of the last things on the to-do list."

"I didn't read that on the to-do list, and I checked it twice this morning." You say, pretending to be confused. Jake's fingers flex, gripping you tighter for a moment before relaxing again. 

"It's just my notes app one," Jake mutters, taking you seriously, his eyebrows creasing. 

"That makes two things that on this secret to-do list you are keeping from me. Is there something I don't know?" You try to urge him into the joke with you again. Jake just looks more and more removed from you, though. You are desperate to fight against that, wanting to keep him as close as possible for every second you have left. You nudge his leg with your foot playfully and let go of some of your inhibitions. If Jake will never admit to loving you, you might as well throw caution to the wind.

"I can't believe you have been keeping a second to-do list on the side and not including me," you tell Jake in a more obviously teasing way. You pull lightly at the short hair at the base of his skull. It makes him sigh in a way that leaves you feeling like you need to chase that high.  

"It isn't like that, darling. I promise," Jake says, catching up to the joke now. A playful smile smooths out his face, and his eyes aren't so distant now. 

"Oh, I've heard that excuse a million times."

"A million? That's a pretty big number."

“Well I grant you this, it’s not always to-do lists, sometimes it's calendars, calculators, personal planners, whiteboards, notepads. Somethings always being hidden from me. You hid a whole bathtub.”

“I did not hide the bathtub from you!” Jake protests light heartedly. 

“Sure you didn’t, Seresin. But I have to ask, are you hiding anything else from me?”

“Nothing! I promise.”

“You know you can be honest with me, Jake.” You remind him playfully pinching his cheek.

“I am!” Jake whines while pouting. 

“Okay. Well then I am sure you won’t mind telling me about what I found in your truck glove box…” You trail off trying hard to keep it in.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Jake shrugs in denial. 

“Is that so?” You question him giving him one last opportunity to think. 

“Yes,” Jake whines dragging out the s for an unnecessarily long time. 

“Okay,” you sigh heavily. By his neck you pull him back a bit and try to maintain the straightest most serious face possible. He is nodding along already. “Then how exactly do you explain the 300 hot sauce packets in there?”

Jake gasps and pulls further away from the close embrace you two had adapted. 

“How did you find those?” He gasps. 

“You didn’t even hide them! They were literally under your gas, mileage, and maintenance tracking book.” 

“Sugar, I don't know what to say.”

“Did you not only four days ago tell me we were out of hot sauce?”

“That definitely might have occurred. But,” 

“You’ve been caught red handed, Seresin.” You sigh, shaking your head as if you are extremely disappointed in him. 

“Woah, hold your horses, now.” Jake request clearly ready to launch into an explanation.

“Sir, this is a sting. Please save your excuses for the MP. They are on their way to this location as we speak.”

Jake’s eyes widen and he looks around the empty and very far removed area he had driven the truck. Clearly pretending to be panicked, he turns up his drama meter to the max setting crying out pleadingly, “It’s a misunderstanding. There’s been a  framing, trickery, bamboozlement even!”

“Oh really?” 

“Yeah, by me. ” Jake says intensely THen he shifts his whole demeanor pulling on a serious confidence, and utters “Ma’am I work for the FBI we have been instigating you this entire time.”

“On what grounds?” You gasp in fake outrage. 

“There have been multiple reports that link you to the scene of several art thefts. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“What can I say? I see something precious, and I just decide it has to be mine”  You say with a shrug.  “We live in a free country, that should be one of my god given protected rights.” 

“To steal? We should review the commandments, honey.”

“No, to have precious things.” You correct him before continuing, “Isn’t that your whole military shtick? Protecting freedoms and all that?”

It takes two beats before Jake can’t take it anymore and starts roaring with laughter. That’s all it takes for you to crack up as well. Was there anything better than Jake’s smile and laugh? You thought the answer was probably no. Nothing compares.

You and Jake laugh together and don’t stop. It keeps dragging on, cycling through all of Jake's laughs including a snort or two. It's that type of laughing that makes your diaphragm ache. The longer it's drawn out, the more deranged the sounds you two make become. Finally, it decrescendos, trailing off to You and Jake are wrapped around each other, and his forehead presses against yours. 

Your breath mingles together. You appreciate the warmth, the relief, and underneath it all, as is often found in Jake's eyes, the deep-seated sadness there. It almost feels easier for you now. Easier with the guesswork and hope gone, easier to focus on what it should have been about all along, you and Jake. You don't have to think about hidden meanings, secrets, or signs. 

It lets you be wholly consumed by the details of Jake instead. How he radiates heat and almost always manages to smell good. The sturdiness of his hands with their well-manicured blunt nails. The fine lines he had around his eyes. You try to memorize exactly what color green his eyes are in the dark like this. Each detail you notice is more catching and striking than the last.  

You categorize each part of him he is willing to share. Finally, with your chest still hurting, from laughing, from tonight, or from the lingering knowledge of a goodbye, it doesn’t really matter. Jake is here now though still with you.  So you offer him a soft smile and let more of your skull's weight press into his. 

"Ah, there she is," Jake breathes to himself. Then his hand is on the side of your neck, tilting you to meet his eyes a little more directly. He wears one of your favorite smiles, where the edges twitch upwards, and his eyes are tender.  

"I got a question for you," he mutters. 

"I got an answer," you tell him just as softly. 

"Are you sure?"

"Ask me your question," is all you give him for a response. 

Jake leans in closer to you, and his lips brush past your cheek dragging along the skin to whisper his question in your ear. You only take a moment to think of your answer. It doesn't take more than meeting the honest vulnerability in his eyes. The answer falls from you easily. After all, it was the question you were expecting.

It’s the last question Jake asks you for 6 ½ months, his entire deployment, with not one single word, complete radio silence. 

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #long fic #Double tap part 2 #house we share #sfumato #jake seresin x you

[neonscandal]

What are your bakudeku fav moments? And what are your fav personal headcanons about them?

Okie, so I may have done a few head canons like this (and forgot to link the last five in the SatoSugu ask just like this... also the alternating colors was admittedly gratuitous but I'm not changing it now. Just know that I have regrets.). Maybe even drafted some moments like this but let's light this BBQ anyway. 💥

Horikoshi truly doesn't get enough credit for how perfect this panel and subsequent animation was. It's actually hysterical? Earnest Deku and Little Shit Kacchan. It's so them, I can't even.

HEAD CANONS

The Bakugo's are the Have's and the Midoriya's are the Have Not's but Mitsuki and Inko are so close that the boys never really knew the difference. Mitsuki helps Inko out where she can which is why Deku is a staple in their house growing up (free childcare for Inko and necessary socialization for her brat, Katsuki). You should see their childhood photo albums, they are both equally as embedded in one anothers' family histories.

When the boys first came to understand their economic differences, it was because of the disparity between their All Might merch collections and Bakugo realized it long before Midoriya. Subsequently, he staved off this epiphany by making it a point to always ask for "one for Izuku" until they fell out which Mitsuki obliged generously and proudly, knowing their relationship was precious but also a good influence on her gremlin.

I say they fell out but.. they didn't. Not in the ways that mattered. Bakugo is as big a nerd as Midoriya, he just has the sense to be more lowkey about it. Even when Bakugo was being a bully, he'd begrudgingly ask Midoriya (if Midoriya didn't ask first) to any midnight releases of All Might/hero movies and merch drops. They absolutely are the kind of dorks to camp out for limited release stuff. It's a lifelong tradition. Even if things went back to normal at school the next day, they still had that in common and both knew not to bring it up otherwise to maintain the balance of their twisted relationship otherwise. It's why, even after all this time, they're still so in sync. Also, by that point, the "one for Izuku" custom is so deeply ingrained that Mitsuki does it anyway. The turnover between Bakugo to Midoriya is so begrudging and awkward. All unspoken but a deeply rooted fact of their relationship.

Bakugo absolutely got them lost in the forest once. I think he took that fear and pivoted it into a refusal to ever be scared in nature again which is why he persistently enjoys the outdoors so much. It feels like revenge every time he comes back from a hike.

They made a blood oath to never tell anyone about how Mitsuki used them as drop in models for the Bakugo child clothing line because there was at least one season where they both modeled girls' clothes (Midoriya doesn't really care but Bakugo does). It's not that Bakugo cares or takes issue with a persons' gender, orientation or expression. He knows clothes don't define a person, he's confident and masculine either way and he knows he'd be the best looking person in a dress. He does, however, take issue with the fact that the hag likes to coo and lord the pictures over him because he was incredibly and disarmingly cute (which he acknowledges as "damn right" but despises the principle of the matter wherein his mom has anything over him).

Class 1A all notice the weird tension between the fire kid and the brittle boned dude who looks like he's never slept but just... awkwardly avoid it because they're just as emotionally underdeveloped as these two idiots. I also kinda think the confrontation between the two isn't always as bad as Midoriya's narration suggests because, I would hope in a class of hero students, someone would have intervened? But everyone picked up, day one, that they're just little weirdos and let them do their own thing.

In fact, no one finds Bakugo as intimidating as Midoriya does. Literally, no one. He's loud but compliant with a self-imposed bed time. His words are violent but his hands are skilled and intentional, never reflecting the carnage he threatens. Plus, he's a big ole dork! They know he's all bark and that's why people don't react to his rampaging (based in canon if you look at the provisional license exam, culture festival, Christmas, and Deku's secret training with Tsu, Ochaco and Sero). He used to be really bothered by Class 1A's lack of reaction to his yelling. They just kinda manhandle him to put him in his place and keep it pushing (again, see also Christmas episode and culture festival arcs). But now he accepts it as they accept him and he doesn't feel the need to be so abrasive and put up as many walls.

Midoriya, of course, notices this transition. Hyper fixated on it in fact. While he's super happy that Kacchan is settling in and finding his peace, he resents (but only a teeeeny tiny little bit) Kirishima in particular thinking this change is because of their friendship which he covets. He doesn't comprehend his own impact on or inspiration for this change, however. He never gives himself enough credit.

When Midoriya went all Dark Deku, Bakugo spent exactly one day a la Bella in Twilight sitting forlorn and waiting in the dark for the idiot to return. After the first 24, he pulled his Hermione pants on and got to work on the plan of recapturing the nerd by any means necessary.

Without spoilers, Bakugo's prized possession is the All Might card they both have because AM remains to be the pinnacle for everything Bakugo hopes to accomplish. But Midoriya's prized possession and the thing he hid before everyone did room tours at Heights Alliance is a picture of him and Bakugo. No fanfare, no merch, just a picture of the two of them with a smile that goes cheek to cheek. It's what gives him strength and resolve to keep moving forward. Aoyama's totally seen it.

Midoriya knows why Bakugo goes to bed at 8:30PM. Yes, he's a sleepy little guy. But also yes, this is his private time to read his shojo romance mangas in peace. ✨ Midoriya stays abreast of his favorite stories waiting for an inevitable "!!!" text when something big happens because Bakugo can't download his... excitement? confusion? joy? with anyone else. (Technically, Kirishima is also aware of this habit, quite by accident, but Bakugo would never tell Midoriya that).

Doesn't seem like it but Bakugo totally spoils Midoriya. It's masked in the harsh way he tends to package everything but he makes it a point to always cook for him, he's really weirdly thoughtful about gifts (no special occasion required but he'll shove it in the nerd's chest), he nags to make sure Midoriya is taking care of himself, etc. When Midoriya falls asleep in random places, Bakugo is the one who covers him with a blanket, quiets the surrounding extras down and leaves him with an excruciatingly gentle thumb across his freckles.

Bakugo pays rapt attention to Midoriya's muttering. Generally, he's interested in the subject matter because he's also an overly analytical fanboy. But also, his attention will sometimes drift from appreciating Midoriya's face and fall to his lips. This is when he gets flustered and "loses his temper". Really, he's worried he got caught lacking and is pissed at himself. It'll happen again and again.

MOMENTS

Much longer series thats focused basically on their relationship so these aren't really moment moments but rather... pieces of the story.

Better in the manga, but Midoriya running into the slime villain fray was just... so momentous. Even before knowing it's impact, it was it was just so chest fluttering. Through and through, that kid has always been a hero. Quirk or not.

In retrospect, everything about the sports festival makes me want to swallow a throw pillow. From Bakugo starting to warm up to people, Bakugo being an eavesdropping little shit, Midoriya (and Aizawa) explaining Kacchan to onlookers, Bakugo unwilling to accept victory. So much of their individual personalities are laid bare but still, that unavoidable link to one another.

I hated the exam against All Might, too much tension/confrontation. But I loved when Bakugo took a hit meant for Midoriya and Midoriya subsequently powered up to sideline All Might AND recapture Bakugo's unconscious body. So on brand for them.

Midoriya still having a psychic connection with Bakugo's enigmatic ass in Kamino by sending Kirishima in for the rescue. I know that burned him up but he's so used to sacrifice.

Generally, every time Kacchan inspired the unlock of another OFA quirk because let's be so for real. Midoriya is Captain Save a Hoe when it comes to Bakugo and even simply Bakugo's honor. Like Bakugo can't defend himself.

Super Secret All Might Meeting in the gif above. It's just so comical, how different they are, but deep down they're so similar.

Dinner at the Todoroki's because that, too, was just so comical. You mean to tell me Bakugo can be considerate? He has manners? He's not always feral!?

First Shiggy Showdown, Bakugo's hero origin story revolving around his body moving to defend Midoriya just like Midoriya's revolved around him.

Bakugo risking further injury and limb to see Midoriya because that's the first thing on his mind as soon as he opened his eyes.

Super Secret All Might Training (with Tsu, Ochaco and Sero). The fact that Bakugo comes to terms with how shitty he's been but also that he cares so much about Midoriya that he can come to terms with the fact that his idol may be withholding stuff that could negatively impact his childhood friend. That reckoning when Midoriya still struggles to not put All Might on a pedestal is peak overprotective Bakugo.

Bakugo putting on his tie properly to appeal to Nezu and Endeavor about bringing Deku back in and how, just as Midoriya can speak to Bakugo's inner workings, Bakugo can speak to Midoriya's. Which is hilarious considering how they're both still pretty dense.

THE APOLOGY. No notes. Just kidding, one amendment. The apology followed by the forced bath of city rat smelling Deku, group project edition.

⚠️ Spoiler Warning through MHA Chapter 411.

The moment Bakugo takes the field against Shigaraki. He tells Best Jeanist to watch over everyone, as he knows he'll be abdicating that role, and he thinks about Midoriya. Which we now know he's been doing this whole time!?

Volume 29 manga cover.

Just as Midoriya has been a driving force for Bakugo, we see once again that Bakugo was a driving force for Midoriya with the way he absolutely loses his shit when he sees Bakugo's discarded body.

Volume 37 manga cover!

THE TELEPATHIC WAY THEY LAUNCHED BAKUGO TO ALL MIGHT'S AID. Featuring heavily: Bakugo and his Midoriya pickled mind. That success was so cathartic. But also Bakugo verbalizing what he felt he's always been hell bent on doing, looking out for Midoriya. Which again, kinda twisted but I'm interested to see how their story ends because I think we'll get some exposure to more of their background lore.

#neon asks #anon asks #deku and kacchan #bakudeku #bkdk #dekubaku #dkbk #katsudeku #ktdk #anime #manga #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #deku #kacchan #dynamight #bkdk brainrot #bkdk headcanons #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #head canon

[iced-blood]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Ice.

I’ve been quiet this year.

This isn’t to say I haven’t been doing anything, as folks may have noticed. I’ve put up a whole mess of links to the work I’ve been doing in 2023—a grand total of 105 chapters—and that’s what I want to touch base on, at this tail-end of the year.

I found out early on in January that a dear friend of mine, my creative partner and the reason for my Paved with Good Intentions series, passed away in 2021. I’m not sure what it was, but that news hit me in a particular way. I realized that two of the projects in that aforementioned series, Blue Eyes, Violet Eyes and Lightbringer, were unfinished.

That didn’t sit right with me.

I set out to fix that.

There are many projects I’ve started that I never finished, and have been left languishing for . . . ten years? Yeah. Ten years.

That’s just ridiculous.

I decided that 2023 was going to cooperate with me whether it wanted to or not.

So, I bought a day-planner and set to work. Let’s go over the list, shall we?

Coronam Crepusculum

This was first on my list because it was a work that I owed a good friend of mine, who is no longer a regular user of Tumblr. It’s a take on the Soulsborne universe, built around a series of personal interviews with relevant characters conducted by an OC I created specifically for this purpose, Wandulfin of Vinheim.

(the latin title translates, hopefully, to “crown of twilight”)

                                51,377 words.

Paved with Good Intentions: Blue Eyes, Violet Eyes

The first of the two stories I knew I needed to finish in memory of my departed friend, I resolved to write the 19 chapters required to reach a clean finish line for this one-shot collection of 100 installments. It felt like the right way to go about things, and I think I worked out a lot of important elements of the Kaiba brothers through those 19 chapters.

                                165,386 words.

Paved with Good Intentions: Lightbringer

The second of the two stories written in my friend’s memory, this is still being published every Saturday. I wrote what amounted to the second half of this story, 55 chapters to be exact, for a grand total of 110 (of which 98 are published as of this post). I think it’s some of my best work to date, and I can only hope my partner would have appreciated what became of it. Have you ever wondered how Seto and Mokuba would react to meeting their parents again? If so, this is the story for you.

                                Published + Rough Draft: 159,930 words.

The City That Wouldn’t Die

The first full storyline of my personal take on World of Warcraft and my main character’s place in it, this story has undergone a lot of changes since I last touched it. This year, I resolved to end it at a part that made at least some amount of sense, but I won’t pretend that it’s entirely satisfactory. All I can say at this point is that I do intend to come back to Azeroth eventually. And this time, I hope to give my characters the story they deserve.

                                41,890 words.

Cult of the Dragon King

I’m pretty sure this is the one that’s been left alone the longest; if it isn’t, it’s close. The basic thrust of this story is that Atem failed in his quest to gather the Millennium Items and put them to rest properly, and so it falls to Seto Kaiba to try this time. I could go into detail why I picked Seto to be Atem’s successor, but I think y’all know what to expect here. I picked Seto because he’s my favorite. Anyway, this one isn’t ready to resume publishing, but it has been drafted. Anyone who’s been waiting for this one to continue will want to pay attention to this blog in 2024.

                                Published + Rough Draft: 175,246 words.

The Lost Dragon's Lullaby

Another AU centered around the Kaiba family (what can I say? I'm a creature of habit), this story wonders what it would have been like if Noa had lived. What if Seto and Mokuba had another brother when they were adopted? What if they had a mother? What would the Kaiba family look like if it were whole?

Approx. 62,609 words.

Watching the Lights Go Down

One of two stories I revived this year, and will resume publication in the new year. Do you Blueship? Do you wonder how Seto and Kisara might interact in the modern world, regardless of romantic intentions? This is the story for you. I took a set of 100 words to use as prompts to build this story, and through these 100 snapshots I think you’ll get a pretty clear picture of how I imagine Seto’s relationship with his favorite dragon would unfold if said dragon was a woman. And his bodyguard.

                                Approx. 52,789 words.

Letting the Cables Sleep

This is a sister story to the one I just outlined. Taking place concurrently with Lights, this story explores the relationship between Noa Kaiba and Ryo Bakura. Why these two? Why not? I don’t really have an answer, except to say that I found their dynamic interesting. Unlike its other half, Cables is explicitly romantic. So if you’re interested in Domino City’s resident white-haired cryptid hooking up with an android, well, here’s where you wanna go. I used the same list of 100 words, but in reverse order, to build this story.

                                Approx. 52,708 words.

Butterflies and Hurricanes

The other contender for “story Ice left to languish for the longest time,” I’m not sure I have to explain to anyone reading this why I might have stopped working on a Harry Potter story. Put basically, this story is an exploration into what would happen if a fae prince took an interest in taking down Lord Voldemort, and then settled on Sirius Black as his instrument. It’s a time travel story at its core, with all the nonsense you might expect from such a thing.

Regardless of anything this series’ author might have to say on the matter, my writing this story does not in any way endorse or condone transphobia or any of her other myriad bigotries. I have not given this woman money in 20 years. I do not support her in any way, shape, or form. This story’s completion is for my own satisfaction, and for the interest of anyone who might want to read it. That is all.

                Published + Rough Draft: 80,506 words.

The Whitest Lace of Light

A continuation of my pet take on the Bleach setting, focused again on Toshiro Hitsugaya and Rangiku Matsumoto and their Tenth Division. Throughout the 50 chapters of this story, they face off with a new threat to Soul Society as they try their hardest to rebuild after the Thousand-Year Blood War. Throughout this . . . suspense? Thriller? Thing. They come across new faces and old, and might just learn some things along the way. Or something. Look, I just wanted to write one of my favorite ships again.

                                Rough Draft: 30,033 words.

At Sixes and Sevens: A Prince for His Kingdom

The shortest work I completed this year, but certainly not the least important. This is a continuation of my pet take on the “Kaiba Bros Age Swap AU” as first shown to me by my dear friend @kintatsujo. How might Seto have handled an invitation to Duelist Kingdom if he’d been 9 years old when it took place? What about Mokuba, if he was 15? Shenanigans abound. I hope you like where I took this one, Kinta.

                                5,000 words.

Last but not least, I resolved to break my record for my longest NaNoWriMo project this year, because I’m ridiculous and don’t know when to quit.

Much like I approached World of Warcraft,I take every MMORPG I play as an excuse to build a story. Nowhere is this more obvious than Final Fantasy XIV. My take on Eorzea and its various magical idiosyncrasies—which I call The Song That God Forgot—set me on a road to 125,000 words this past November.

These projects, alongside various redrafts of my older stories in preparation for what I hope to be 2024’s migration from Fanfiction.Net to AO3, netted me a grand total of 902,580 words written in 2023.

I don’t say this to brag or to pat myself on the back (okay, maybe a bit), but to say . . . just hold on. Keep going. You’ll hit your stride eventually, even if it doesn’t seem like it. I’ve struggled to write regularly and with consistency for a decade now, and here I’ve got nearly a million words in a single year.

I believed in me this year, and I believe in you too.

Keep on truckin’. You’ll get there.

Happy New Year, y’all. I love you.

#yugioh! #duel monsters #season zero #blueshipping #slumbershipping #harry potter #bleach #hitsumatsu #world of warcraft #final fantasy xiv #nanowrimo #au fanfiction #seto kaiba #mokuba kaiba #noa kaiba #sirius black #toshiro hitsugaya #rangiku matsumoto #death cw #2023 in summary #ryo bakura

[sam-glade]

Reducing verbosity, improving clarity

Part 3/3 of my editing process. Part 1 link. Part 2 link.

This is what I do to a novel or a novella before showing it to anyone (including beta readers). I’m posting it in hopes that it will help someone, and I’m not expecting it to work for everyone. Take any parts that help you!

The goal of this step is to make the style more crisp and direct. If you're going for a slow or very poetic style, this may not be as applicable.

Two things up front:

‘Imperfect’ doesn’t mean ‘bad’. Good writing can have imperfections.

The goal is to get the manuscript to a stage where the imperfections won’t be distracting to beta readers.

The idea is to convey the maximum amount of meaning in the minimum number of words. Be as specific as you can.

Large paragraphs

I go over the manuscript and compare the size of paragraphs. If they look close to square on a laptop screen, I’ll see what I can do about them. I personally don’t mind a paragraph of description or exposition, but the one rule I adhere to is that it must be immediately connected to what the character is thinking, feeling, or talking about. 

E.g. I need to give a description of the uniform most of my characters wear.

‘So he sat there in the ashen coatee with white facings, unbuttoned to reveal a white waistcoat, both creased after a long day. Little swords on his shoulder straps signified his division, and three stripes on the buttons of his jacket marked him as a sergeant. His long slim Sword was at his side — not as slim as a rapier, and with only a simple cross-guard over the grip. And yes, it looked more silvery than cold iron should, and it glowed faintly in the dark, but when it was sheathed, it looked very ordinary. I’m just a simple Sword, Ianim’s appearance said. Move along; there’s nothing interesting about me.’ → I deliberately highlight the details about the weapon that are out of ordinary, AND explain how Ianim feels about the outfit.

If it doesn’t do that at the end, and is still long, it needs to be shortened or tied into the current situation.

Laundry list of actions

Here, I’m looking for paragraphs that list a handful of actions, without any introspection or description. It usually means I’m spelling out every little action, when the reader will fill in the blanks easily if I remove a good portion of them. It’s things like ‘looked around and located X’ or ‘walked across the room’.

E.g. ‘He rolled his eyes around, trying to locate whoever was speaking. He felt a faint touch on his left shoulder and twitched, promptly hissing in pain. The hand was withdrawn. He gathered his strength and turned his head in that direction.’ → I don’t lose anything by cutting the first sentence. In fact, it works better without a convoluted description of looking around.

Too many clauses

Another kind of sentence that I come across in my drafts is of the form ‘Something was X and Y happened to it’, which can be rephrased as a single clause.

E.g. ‘The roof had collapsed in one corner, and water dripped through it.’ → ‘Water dripped through a hole in the corner of the roof.’

E.g. ‘Once Master Varré had returned and deposited the supplies in the kitchen, the four of them sat down to a simple meal.’ → ‘Once Master Varré had deposited the supplies in the kitchen…’

Reiterating spoken words with actions

I want my dialogue and action tags to add something new to what’s said, not reiterate it. I look for actions like ‘sighed’, ‘frowned’, ‘nodded’, ‘shook their head’. I’m NOT advocating for removing all of them by any means. They’re sometimes needed to induce a pause in dialogue, and are slightly better than saying ‘he paused’. Quite often, an ellipsis will work just as well.

Examples of reiterating dialogue:

“It’s taught in the second year of the cadet course, but…” He frowned. “I don’t see why not? → remove ‘He frowned’

Gullin nodded sharply. “Yes, ma’am.” → the line of dialogue can be cut.

“I can’t deny it. It is regrettable, but I don’t think I can deny it.” He sighed. “I wish it wasn’t the case though.” → remove the dialogue tag. Yes, when I read this sentence, I instinctively hear a sigh there, but nothing hinges on it being there, and removing it doesn’t mess up the rhythm.

“Do you not want to take it outside, sir?” Gullin checked. Master Varré thought about it, but shook their head. “Not necessary. We are not going to release our Swords.” → remove ‘not necessary’

Dialogue thing that I do

On a similar dialogue-related note: as I write I ‘hear’ the words spoken in the character’s voice in my head. As a result, I VERY often end up with dialogue, where the action in the tag is performed by a character other than the one who’s speaking – usually to indicate a pause or a non-verbal reaction.

E.g. 

Master Varré sprang out of their chair and started pacing around the hall. Lissan watched them warily.

“We need evidence, solid evidence before we can mention this to anyone. No offence, kid, but your word won’t cut it.” Lissan nodded seriously; he’d expected nothing less. “I’m going to Redguard to check [their] records.”

→ This is spoken by Varré, not Lissan, though the action tag indicates something to the contrary. I need to add something like ‘they said’ to clarify it. 

Another dialogue thing that I do

A couple of my characters deliberately hide their emotions, and their reactions are measured. I tend to indicate it with phrases like ‘he allowed himself a sigh of relief’ or ‘he permitted himself a small smile’. Now, I want to bring it to the reader’s attention, when the character’s control is important in the scene – e.g. they’re keeping their cool during an argument, and allowing themselves a small smug smile when they come out on top. However, it’s not adding anything when their self-control doesn’t contribute to the conversation – which is most of the time. Even then, not every controlled reaction has to be preceded by a phrase like this; a few mentions are enough to establish the background tension, but soon it gets repetitive.

Hence, I’ll remove it:

Every time – in conversations where the characters can relax, e.g. when talking to their buddies at a pub.

Most of the time when the character’s self-control is important. I’d leave it in no more than half of the gestures (smiling, sighing, rolling shoulders, rubbing their eyes, etc.).

Thesaurusising/rephrasing

Especially in narration and in longer paragraphs, I find sentences of the form ‘they tended/liked/had a talent for doing X and Y’, where X and Y are close in meaning. I can remove one of them or replace them with a more generic word that covers both.

‘She had an incredible talent for reading hints between the lines and figuring out what was not said’ → Yes, that’s exactly what reading between the lines means. I’m removing the second clause.

Sometimes, especially in dialogue, I leave the rephrasing for dramatic effect, but only when I’m confident that it adds something.

E.g. “Because ever since I’ve met him, he wanted to be seen not as the Prince Successor, not as a grandson of the White Dragon, but a normal guy.” → this stays as is.

Describing the obvious

There’s usually no reason to describe something that the reader can reasonably assume to be the case. E.g. if you say it’s raining, you don’t need to follow it up by saying the clouds covered the sky.

UNLESS

The few exceptions I can think of:

One of my characters focuses on their surroundings to avoid doing something. E.g. they aren’t in a mood to talk and they let a conversation happen around them without listening, they focus on the chips in the walls or the grain of wood on the table.

When a character is bored or waiting for something, they might look around their surroundings. Adding descriptions to pass the time is often a good alternative to saying ‘they waited’.

When the ‘homely’ is surprising. E.g. the character has been on a run for a while, squatting in abandoned buildings or sleeping outdoors. When they finally get home, I’d elaborate on the comfort of it, to pull the reader out of the default atmosphere of the last few chapters.

I still consider these tricks to be exceptions to the rules – best used sparingly.

#editing #writing #writing tips #writing advice #novel writing #creative writing #writeblr #writeblr community #writers of tumblr #writing resources

[gunkbaby]

Do you have any tips for writing Shuu?

This is the best ask I’ve ever had thank you anon!!! I am honoured to have been asked this, sorry it took me so long to answer, I was getting my thoughts in order! I have a few general tips!! Idk how useful they’ll be tho! :P (this is very long but i have tried to make myself as concise as possible…sorry anon…bear in mind this is all my opinion!)

Shuu, is dreadfully mischaracterised. So it’s tricky, especially because it depends on what exactly ur writing. If ur using headcanons that drastically change him anyway, then the rules are looser ofc, but if as close to canon is the aim, then I would take all fanon Shuu with a grain of salt. Not a slight to anyone at all, but I find different people interpret the character really differently, and I don’t agree with most of it (especially anything pre-2018), so I don’t interact with fanon, especially when writing. Idk what’s currently fanon tho, maybe it’s real af!

A very general tip but it cannot be understated with Shuu - always refer to canon. I have a notebook where I make notes of things I have noticed in his canon appearances, notes from the wiki, the light novels, films, everything. I always cross-reference when planning, and adjust my plot accordingly, during the writing stage, so I can alter my writing process, and upon editing/re-drafts, which I find is where Shuu really becomes himself. I would say write him as best as you can in a first draft, and allow yourself time to redraft and fine tune him afterwards. :)

Another tip for general character writing is to write diary entries from that character’s POV - regardless of whether that is the ultimate protagonist or not - this helps get inside their head. Shuu’s blog entries are helpful starting points.

So, some things to avoid (note: i haven’t read fic in years, so this isn’t in reference to any writer/fic in particular, just things I did notice/have noticed that i dislike when I see him characterised.)

I used to see a lot of flanderisation with Shuu. People really overestimate the amount of French he uses, so I guess a tip there is to limit that - or half the amount you think is enough. You can always add it in later if it is too little. He obviously does use it, but it’s not to the point I’ve seen. Also remember that Shuu doesn’t just speak French - he speaks Italian and English too! (Ik he speaks German, but this only comes up once. Unless ur writing a fic with Kanae I would say it’s less important). A good starting point for adding French/Italian/English to his dialogue/inner monologue would be to look at a list of common francophones, Latin phrases, or older English turn of phrase (not modern Bri’ish, shuu is not a roadman). If I find a list I will add some links 4 u. :)

With regard to general speech/train of thought, try use a wide vocabulary of colourful adjectives - words that are maybe rare or perhaps too fancy for normal conversation. I read a lot, so if I find a new fancy word I write it down. Normally this ends up going to Shuu’s passages in my work :) (I think a great example of this was when I read A Certain Hunger - the protagonist was a food critic, so she was very helpful with colourful language in relation to food!) I also think imagining his anime VAs saying any dialogue really helps me check dialogue too! Food is worth mentioning too, obviously, I think a Shuu-specific tip is to use terms that could be food-related in otherwise unrelated actions - one can devour a book, salivate in anticipation, or go out for a delicious walk! That kind of thing. Don’t be afraid to make it a little silly. Shuu is very fun to write, so have fun! The key is just to toe the line between silly and fun, to caricature. I think if you intend to write him properly, then you inherently sort of avoid that tho.

A thing that seems random but that I used to see constantly in fanon Shuu was him swearing a lot. Off the top of my head, Shuu properly swears once in Tokyo Ghoul - depends on the translation. He also says damn/damned a few times. That’s about as much as I ever write him saying. Again, I would use more colourful language to express his anger or strong emotions. Thinking to him slagging off Rize - that sort of posh-boy anger. You could probably use swearing very sparingly to pack a comedic punch. He doesn’t swear flippantly, that’s very important imo.

Shuu’s motivations are really important. I’ve seen him written as this sort of caricature so many times. People often refer to Shuu as this sort of narcissistic creep - but I think that’s a mischaracterisation. I think he’s vain, but I think that his vanity and pride is covering up some repressed guilt about what he has to eat - his earliest documented interaction with food is that of guilt. Shuu sees himself not as some kind of monster - but as very strong predator. I think he’s more matter-of-fact than people initially realise. He views the world as dog-eat-dog. He’s hunting Kaneki because he is predator - not in the sense of a creep, but as a lion. His justification for his existence is merciless in that fact - man is not typically sympathetic to the hens in batteries, served pre-plucked en mass in a Tescos, but Shuu, who hunts his prey properly, as a true animal should, is supposed to believe he is lesser than them. I think that makes him much more understanding. I think that’s why other ghouls also fail to understand him, because though he pretends to be better, more civilised, he has a very savage mindset. (Sorry. Long Character analysis there, remember what I said about taking fanon with salt earlier?). :p)

TLDR: I think people think Shuu leans far more into a ‘villain’ role than he actually does. An animal is an animal. I wrote a whole load of paragraphs about his character on Instagram a while ago. I will try and rewrite them and post them here if they would be helpful. (Again, all just my opinion)

In regards to Shuu’s obsession with Kaneki - if this is what you’re writing - this isn’t something I’ve ever written (sorry!) but I have written a similar relationship with him and an oc, and I also have BPD (shocking!), so I can relate to this kind of thing…Kind of. I’ve never wanted to eat anyone! I find expressing this kind of obsession very difficult to verbalise - it’s like, full of over-idealisation. You get so swept up in the idea of someone, you forget they’re a flawed human being who you actually might not know as much as you’d like. And when that idealisation inevitably implodes, it’s very devastating. Shuu’s depression and anorexia after ‘losing’ Kaneki, is something I heavily relate to. It might be worth examining what other people with similar conditions have said about this kind of obsession in particular (in bpd we refer to it as having ‘favourite people’) - im not saying Shuu has BPD, I’m simply saying that looking into real life examples for similar kinds of things, in ways that are expressed by people much wiser than me. :) I think it’s important to have empathy for people like this when writing them, because we do exist out here! Having empathy for Shuu when writing is very important, imo.

I think with his relationships, it’s key to remember that Shuu does not understand what he is feeling. He does not understand that he actually genuinely likes Kaneki and enjoys his company, or Hinami’s company, or Hori. This is despite him going out of his way to comfort them, lend them books, buy them gifts, and (importantly) flowers - which Shuu says he links directly with feelings of happiness. People have said this is creepy, but I think this is wrong. Shuu does not understand how relationships work, but he understands that material objects can make people happy. I think people viewing Shuu’s exchange of gifts as something impure are kind of missing the point - understandable if you’ve only read TG and not :re, tbf.

This is just my opinion, so listen liberally, but considering Shuu refers to his actual friends as pets - I think it’s a somewhat reasonable assumption to make that Shuu’s only relationships outside of his home have been with animals or plants. I write Shuu’s relationships as if he were interacting with animals. With :re based stories this is a little different, but you can generally use the same rule. Referring to my earlier point about Shuu viewing himself as an animal - he probably doesn’t think this perspective is as offensive as it might be.

****

I think this is everything off the top of my head. In general, it all comes back to referring to canon, that’s your main thing. Thinking about, and analysing the character in your own way, and coming to your own conclusions. You can utilise other people’s ideas- as long as it’s not offensive, I don’t think it’s so bad, but I try not to. Also, having empathy for the character and taking the time to get to know him. Sometimes I just listen to what Shuu is telling me - if a story arc is too difficult to write, maybe it just isn’t his! Sorry for rambling so much - was this even helpful at all? I feel like I have simply waffled!

Just a few notes: I have written/am writing Shuu at stages Tokyo Ghoul does not document (when he is19/20, and after the end of :Re at age 30+). So most of my work is my estimation of where he might be.

Bear in mind I also haven’t posted anything in a loooong time so none of this has been subject to any criticism aside from my own! I can post some extracts of my current work if it would be helpful. I can also post some pages from my Shuu notebook if you need inspiration, or my instagram analyses, or whatever might help! Feel free to send more asks if needed too! As you can see I like to talk!!!

i hope this was semi-helpful!!!! thank you anon!!! This was such a lovely ask, thank you, merci beaucoup!!! Bisous!!! <3

#Tysm for this wonderful ask anon! #I have spent so long thinking about it! #I hope this is at least…coherent? Helpful? #Sorry. #but thank youuuu! #Feel free to add onto this if anyone has useful tips in the reblogs!!! #I feel like i am so useless for someone who calls themselves a shuu fic writer :p #Bisous! #Asks #shuucore #shuu tsukiyama #gunk #tg gunk #tokyo ghoul

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

Red Snow (KakuIza oneshot)

Wow, I can't believe I finally finished this!

This was actually sitting on my drafts for half a year. The idea came at me when I started wondering what if some characters start to slowly remember other timelines? And bam, KakuIza appeared to me. Tragic as always, but asking with puppy eyes if I could give them happiness (or show it, since technically the canon already did this). I had it all wrote except the last scene because apparently the angst comes easily at me (no surprises here, oops)

But Tenjiku being animated and knowing what we'll see in a few week... Yeah, I needed to end this and fix that mess.

(link to ao3 in case some one preferes to read it there)

Summary: Maybe the snow was the last tribute from heaven to this king who died too young trying to protect his servant. After that day, every time it snows, Kakucho couldn't do anything but look at the snow, the bloody red snow that seemed to be everywhere. Now, the red is gone. Izana is there. The snow makes Kakucho happy again.

Warnings: Manga Spoilers. Angst with happy ending (with a lot of angst before the happiness) and depressed Kakucho (who could blame him?)

Notes: This is canon compilant, from Kakucho's POV (so keep in mind that any opinion on another character is Kakucho's, not mine, I love them all). The italic parts are Kakucho's memories, I hope it makes sense how I organized, since it's not chronologically, it only makes sense emotionally. If saying this makes sense at all.

English is not my first language, so be nice please! :)

Kakucho has been wanting to see that smile for so long that he can't even remember when he started to miss it. Or maybe it's the excruciating pain in his shoulder, which doesn't allow him to remember properly. All that he knows is that suddenly it's here, a real smile on Izana's face, lighting everything up. He can't stop looking, even if some part of his brain detects all the chaos and screams around them, Kakucho only has eyes for him, for his king and this smile that it's making the world shine again for a few seconds.

He thinks his yelling, but he's unable to focus in anything other than Izana bleeding next to him, correcting his servant once more “Our era”. The king keeps talking to Mikey, but Kakucho doesn't know what he's saying anymore, the last words still hitting his brain, his ears, his whole body. “I'm sorry Kakucho, but you're all that I have”.

As Izana's hand begins to get colder his servant is still caught up in those words “All that I have”. So Kakucho close his eyes, more than willing to follow his king one last time. He's not going to left him alone, not now, not ever. The last coherent thoughts that cross his mind is that this is his fault, for wishing too much, wanting too much. He never would have wished to see Izana's real smile again if he had known the price.

He's still able to see the snow before everything goes dark (or feel, he's not sure of his own senses any more). It's ironic,they used to love the snow, now it seems like the universe is mocking on them. Or maybe it's not, maybe the snow is the last tribute from heaven to this king who died too young trying to protect his servant.

---------------------------------------

Kakucho wakes up in the hospital. The doctors say that he's going to recover, like that's good news. They are not, not for him. He survived, again. Nothing makes sense, he doesn't feel alive, so... How is it possible? He wants to die, he doesn't understand, his live is meaningless, just a servant. Kakucho hates himself for surviving, he should have died protecting his king, not the other way around.

None of this matters, his feelings are not important, he can't go back to being selfish, getting caught up in his own desires. He knows that he has to keep living, Izana died for him to live. 'Why? Why Izana? Why you never show how important I was to you when we still had time? Why did you leave me? Why am I the only one stuck with our regrets? Why?'

He needs to stop thinking, there is no point in doing so. Izana exchanged his own life for Kakucho's, so he knows he has to keep living. Even tough he is already dead.

---------------------------------------

Every time it snows, is the same. It doesn't matter if Izana is already in middle school, as soon as he sees the first flakes he starts running looking for Kakucho, ready to drag him under the snow again. It's a miracle how he's able to contain all this excitement until he finds his friend (his servant) when he's actually jumping trough the corridors.

Of course, Kakucho follows him, pretending to complain about the cold. He doesn't pretend too hard, it's not like he's even trying to hide his smile. Or like the cold matters, when Izana is still taking his hand while they keep running until being outside.

Kakucho didn't care about the snow before, now he loves it. Or maybe he loves how the older boy's face seems to glow when he smiles at it. He knows that Izana isn't exactly the happiest kid around, so he treasures every second when he can have his friend acting like this, without masks or titles between them. Just two friends playing in the snow.

They always play outside for hours, never bothered by the rest of the kids, probably too busy hiding inside the building from the cold. Kakucho thinks they are idiots, they don't know anything. For him, the snow is a reminder of that warm feeling inside him, that thing he felt the first time they played like this. It was almost freezing inside their igloo, but all the ice went away when Izana said those words “Our kingdom”. The younger kid doesn't understand why, he only knows that for a second he felt like the most important person on the entire planet ( besides Izana, of course ), the previous cold forgotten and replaced by warmth within his chest.

Suddenly, a snowball kicks him and he realizes that Izana has already started the fight. He was lost in his own thoughts, so obviously Izana is cheating. Again. He sighs and starts making his own ammunition. 'Some things never change, right?'

---------------------------------------

The world lost his color that day. Now everything looks gray, like if someone repainted it with a monochrome palette during the time that Kakucho was in the hospital. The apartment is worse, because he can still see where the colors are supposed to be, like a shadow from the past. He can still see the guitar by the window, where Izana used to play it. The tropical fish, now his only roommate.

It's a really small apartment, the only one that Izana could afford at that time, when he came back to the orphanage just for rescue him ( actually it was more an scape than a rescue, but they didn't care about that ). When his king went to juvie he promised that he wouldn't forget about Kakucho. And he didn't, because Izana never lied to him. 'He just kept too many things inside, but he never lied, how ironic is that?'

He didn't have time to miss the colors, because one day starts snowing. Kakucho was walking towards the convenience store when the first flakes began to fall. Suddenly he can't breathe, he can't move, he can't think. He can't do anything but look at the snow, the bloody red snow that's everywhere. 'Red. That's not supposed to be red. Why is the snow red? Where does all this blood come from? Fuck, fuck, fuck!'

Kakucho doesn't know how he manage to run until he's safely back home, safe from the memories that come true with every flake of snow. From that day on, he avoids going outside in the snow. So he stays in this apartment full of ghosts, the ghosts of colors, forever gone from his world. The ghost of Izana filling every corner, reminding him that he must keep living.

---------------------------------------

Apparently Izana made new friends in juvie. He doesn't know how he feels about it, but it's weird trying to imagine Izana making friends. Until his king explains how he made them. 'Oh, that checks.'

“Why are you doing this face? Are you jealous or what?”

Izana says that with a smirk in his face, his obviously teasing him but for some reason the younger boy still feel that something is off.

“Come on servant, don't be such a pain in the ass, I beat them for you, the least you can do is be grateful, don't you think?”

“For me?”

Kakucho doesn't understand what that is supposed to mean.

“Yeah, you're going to lead our army, remember? I wasn't going to let you lead an army of weaklings.”

And with that, he puts a hand on Kakucho's head, ruffling his hair on the process. An obvious sign that the conversation is over and, once again, his servant will follow him with a smile.

When Kakucho finally meets this new friends, he can only think that they're all idiots. Well, except for Mutto, he likes Mutto because he's calm and quiet, he always knows his place or when it's better to shut up. Shion is the complete opposite, he never knows when to shut up or stop moving. To be honest, Kakucho thinks that Shion probably can't do any of that. Mochi is just another idiot, with less energy than Shion, but the same amount of brains. The Haitani brothers are their own category. 'This two aren't just idiots. They are idiots and weirdos.'

Time passed and Kakucho still thinks the Haitanis are weirdos, but he actually likes having them around. They always show up with some expensive and extravagant gift, as if money is nothing to the rulers of Roppongi. Today they bring some delicious cakes, as always they remembered to buy a portion of Kakucho's favorite. He knows Ran is the one who paid attention to these tinny details, he can't help but act like a big brother.

But the cake is not the reason why Kakucho likes them. It's not the only reason, at least. No, Izana is the real reason. Every time the Haitani brothers are there the white haired boy looks happy. Of course, he doesn't show it, so sometimes he seems amused, entertained or even pissed off as if he's about to lose his already little patience. But Kakucho knows him better, he knows that Izana is happier when the weirdos are here. So before he realizes, the four of them are friends. Well, maybe one king and three friends.

---------------------------------------

It's being a few months since the Kanto Incident. He doesn't know how many, because time stopped making any kind of sense for Kakucho since his reason to live disappeared. He didn't realize how much time had past until one day when he hears an annoying knock at his door. A really annoying knock that doesn't go away forcing him to open the damn door.

Of course, when he opens the door, the Haitani brothers are there. He should had know, but he really wasn't aware that they were already out.

“Kakuchooooo, I know you missed me, so stop making that grumpy face and be a good host!”

Ran looks exactly the same, still talks like he's teasing at you with every word. After all that time, he still brings cake, Kakucho's favorite.

“Come one, let us in already, I was about to pick the lock.”

Yeah, that's Rindou's way of showing that he was worried. Still the same weirdos. So obviously, he lets them in.

Before he understands what's going on, he's sitting at the table with one brother at each side of him, eating cake and talking nonsense. And he's smiling, even laughing at times with their most absurd anecdotes. The scene is so familiar, so comfortable, it's almost like nothing has changed. 'Almost.'

Kakucho doesn't know what happened, but suddenly finds himself unable to breath. He tries, he really tries, because he doesn't want to break in front of anyone. But they aren't just anyone, they have cake and comfort words “Breathe, it's ok Kakucho, we know” and “We're here now, you are not alone anymore”.

So he breaks, he let himself cry in front of these weirdos that share his pain, his lost. In front of what's left of his family, what's left of all that happiness that he doesn't even remember how it felt. He doesn't realize that all this time he has been gripping his necklace, the one with a hanafuda image that they know all too well. The one that used to be one of Izana's earrings.

---------------------------------------

Kakucho would never know how they knew it. The Haitanis always seem to have a sixth sense or something, because they show up unannounced like they always did. The strange thing is that they seem to know that this time Izana is going to welcome them, without beatings or cruel words. They seem to sense that their king is starting to get better and he can't be more thankful, hoping that maybe this is what Izana needs.

He's not wrong, but he's also not right. Izana isn't quiet there most of the time, but at least he eats, talks and even has a smile sometimes. It's not he's real smile, his eyes don't show any emotions, it still looks unhinged. But even if it's a weird smile, he does it more when the brothers are there, so Kakucho thinks that's good. 'He just needs more time, that's all, this has to be a good sign, right? Yep, one day he will really smile again, I'm sure.'

Kakucho definitely likes having the Haitani brothers around. They are more than friends, they are family.

---------------------------------------

Kakucho didn't want to follow South, he only have one king and he will never betray him. He ends up in Rokuhara after that monster beats the shit out of him, but that doesn't mean his loyal to that gang. He put his life ( and his heart ) in the hands of another man a long time ago.

It's actually much easier than he expected, being back in this live, the fights, the adrenaline. Maybe that is all he knows how to do or maybe he doesn't even care anymore, but this makes him feel a little bit more alive than spending day after day hiding in his apartment with only ghosts and a fish for company.

It's different with Mikey and so familiar at the same time that he feels on edge. Every time that he's in a Kanto Manji meeting he has to control himself or he would freak out ( unconsciously grasping his necklace trying to calm down ).

Looking at Mikey gets him deja-vu. Really bad deja-vu, if he has to be honest.

The invincible is falling, Kakucho can see him fall into the darkness, exactly as he saw before. That's what scares him most, that he already learned how this ends. But he can't run away ( even if sometimes that's all that he wants ). Kakucho can't run away because he knows, he doesn't know how he knows, but he knows Izana wouldn't want him to leave Mikey. Or maybe he's just projecting, trying to fix the past by fixing the present.

“You can't save him.”

Of course he has been noticing the look in the older Haitani's face, he's obviously worried, but he didn't expect that. He wasn't prepared for that.

“What?”

“You can't save Mikey, not from himself. Stop it, you need to start thinking about what do you want for a while.”

There is more, things that Ran never says, but Kakucho listens anyway. The unspoken words keep floating around them 'You can't save him, the same way that you couldn't save Izana.'

---------------------------------------

At the beginning, Kakucho was happy of seeing Izana taking care of himself again. Starting to be open to people, to life, once more.

Now, he's just worried. Really worried. He realized that Izana's only motor is revenge, that he's getting really obsessed with Mikey. Izana is falling into darkness, a little bit more every day. His smiles are not real, his beautiful purple eyes never catch up with them. He looks deranged, completely unhinged every time that he starts talking about his revenge plans.

Kakucho knows that, but he'll follow him anyway. He'll follow Izana because he just wants to see him happy again and if this revenge is what it takes, he'll follow his king. Izana isn't drinking and sleeping all day anymore, so he hopes that maybe, he just needs time for smiling again. A real smile, like before. If Kakucho have to follow him to hell for being able to see this smile once more, he'll do it happily.

---------------------------------------

It's even worst the day that Rindou finally snaps, just before the battle with Toman 2nd Generation. They're alone, just trying to keep themselves entertained with some video game, trying very hard ( and failing ) not to think about tomorrow.

“Who do you think will die?”

It's just a whisper, so he wants to ignore it, pretending that he didn't hear it until he turns around and sees Rindou's face.

“No one, this time no one is going to die.”

He doesn't believe it, of course, not after watching how Mikey almost killed Takemichi of all people. But he's trying to comfort the other, and probably himself.

“You don't believe that, don't fuck with me!”

Then he realizes. Rindou fucking Haitani is panicking right now, he's having a panic attack and Kakucho doesn't know what to do. So he just keeps listening, hoping that helps. He's definitely not prepared for the next words.

“I... I've been having nightmares since that day, you know? What if... What if Ran tries to protect me like Izana did with you? What if... This time Ran... Shit, I can't even say it out loud, I'm fucking pathetic! But how am I supposed to keep living if that happen? How you keep living with that?”

Kakucho really, really doesn't want to answer that, but he's never seen the younger Haitani like this before, he knows he deserves an answer. He also knows that the only one he can give is not going to help.

“You don't.”

---------------------------------------

Kakucho is dying. He knows he is dying, he knows that Sanzu's katana cut is too deep, that there is no way that he could survive this time. He's okay with the idea of his own death, he always thought that the last two years were a cruel and extra time.

But he can't, he can't die yet. Kakucho needs to stop this damn train, he needs to do it or a lot more people is going to die. Not just people, his friends. Shion, Mochi, Takemichi. Not just people, his family. Ran. Rindou. The last survivors of the broken family they had once. The last two people in this whole planet that still remember Izana with affection. Kakucho can't let this happen, he can't let them die without trying until his last breath.

That's when he sees him. Izana.

Izana is here, Kakucho can feel him, he can feel his warm presence by his side once again. He doesn't even have time to think what's happening, when he listens Izana's voice.

“You're still as reckless as ever. Well, that's what makes you, you.”

Izana smiles and puts his hand in top of Kakucho's own hand. He can feel Izana's strength going through his body.

“I'll help you out, Kakucho.”

Just like that, they are able to stop the train. Together, like they always should be. They did it, they saved their family. And now, Kakucho is finally letting go, allowing himself to die. He's not afraid anymore, he's just happy that he could see Izana one last time. He's dying, but he's dying with a warm smile. Kakucho is finally reunited with the love of his live.

---------------------------------------

Kakucho never knew when he started to feel that for Izana. Maybe it was always there, maybe his feelings just changed and grew into something different at the same time that he was growing. But he could pinpoint without any doubt the exact moment when he realized that he was in love with his king.

The day that he saw him “better” again after Shinichiro's death. Izana just cut his hair and wanted to do a big entrance with his new Tenjiku's uniform. He was showing it to Kakucho, his arms opened and allowing him to see the whole view. His earrings dancing with him again every time he moved.

Kakucho knew it. Like and instant revelation, he felt that he just found the missing piece of a puzzle that he didn't even realized he was doing. Kakucho was doomed.

He wanted too much, he couldn't ask that from the older boy, but he still couldn't avoid it. He wouldn't ask, he'll keep following him until the end, just like always. He was sure that be by Izana's side will be enough. At that time, he thought this was the best decision, he still didn't knew that never confessing his feelings to Izana will be his last regret.

---------------------------------------

Kakucho opens his eyes, looking around and feeling completely disoriented. He's laying on a king size bed, the other side showing signs that some one was sleeping here too. He touches his chest, not understanding why there isn't a wound there. A scar, at least. But nothing.

Suddenly, he realizes that his necklace is not there. He's about to panic, thinking that he lost Izana's earring forever. Until he hears it, a soft voice calling his name. The sound of footsteps entering the room.

The scarred boy wants to punch himself, because this can't be. But he recognizes this voice, he would recognizes this particular footsteps anywhere.

“Kakucho? Are you awake or are you going to start acting like Ran and sleep forever?”

Izana enters the room, looking even more ethereal than ever. A smug face and playful tone. But he looks... Older. It's subtle, little details than some one who didn't know him as his servant does, wouldn't notice. But Kakucho does it. His king looks exactly like he kept growing up during the last two years.

“I-Izana? Are you real?”

Is just a whisper, he's too afraid that if he talks, he would break this illusion, this dream. But it's more than enough for Izana's face changes into one of worry, quickly sitting on the bed by Kakucho's side, a gentle hand on his forehead.

“Are you okay? You look sick... I can call Manjiro and tell him we can't go to the lunch this week.”

Izana's voice is so soft, his tone of concern so genuine, his warm hand on Kakucho's face so comforting... That he breaks. He starts crying like a little kid, hugging him, clinging onto him like his life depended on it (it does).

“Kakucho? Kakucho, look at me.”

A gentle touch on his chin forces him to look directly into Izana's eyes. An intense gaze staring directly at him, trying to analyze what the hell is happening. The hand moving softly to wipe his tears. But there's something in those violet eyes, something different. Like they had less walls, as if the usual storm that Kakucho always saw on them was calmer.

So, without even thinking about it, Kakucho just says the words. No more regrets.

"I love you, Izana.”

He whispers, before talking again, this time more firmly.

“I love you. So you can't die, because I love you. You have to promise to me that you'll not die."

Izana stares at him, a puzzled look on his face. 'Well, that's not the worst reaction ever, right?'

"I know that, idiot. We've been dating for almost a year now, you don't need to act so fucking intense about it. What the hell is wrong with you today?”

The words sound blunt, but there's so much affection behind them, that Kakucho just melts with it. Specially, when Izana ruffles his hair. A small gesture that says a lot more.

And that's when he finally gets it. This gesture, all the gentle touches, all the non-verbal things that his king is saying... They aren't new. It was always there. This was always Izana's love language. It was always there. But Kakucho never understood until now, because he never thought he deserved this love.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong, Izana.”

He answers, a bright smile on his face. Feeling lighter than ever. Of course, the older boy is not buying it, an interrogation look on his eyes. Kakucho just laughs at this, throwing his head like a little kid, unable to content so much happiness. So much life.

Until he looks through the windows and he sees it. It's starting to snow outside.

“It's snowing.”

Izana's whole expression changes with this words. His face lighting up with excitement. A genuine smile on it.

A real smile. One that makes Kakucho notices that this time, he can actually see the snow. The red is gone. Izana is there, holding his hand and smiling at him. Looking ethereal but at the same time, so real. So tangible. So alive.

The red is gone.

Izana is there.

The snow makes Kakucho happy again.

#me writing🌻 #tokyo revengers #izana kurokawa #kakucho #kakuiza #s62 being a found family because i say so #haitani brothers #s62 generation #tokyo revengers fic #oneshot #tokyo revengers spoilers #in my tenjiku depression era #i blame tenjiku for the angst #i made myself cry #i broke my own heart #final timeline #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #canon compatible

[laeteria]

It seems I never posted this here, so…

You may, or may have not, stumbled across this video, but yeah… My Tumblr is kinda dead, so I thought it isn't that bad of an idea to drop this one here as well.

There are some notes in the description, so before you go attack me because I haven't added XX role to YY seiyuu, please read the description 👊😔

Some Tumblr exclusive notes under the cut ✨

Why Paradox Live?

Yeah, I know I said I was not posting about Paradox Live anymore and considering the fact that the video was posted in October 2023, it seems pretty recent. However, I have been working on this video for AGES. I think that I will end up in somewhere in 2022(?) starting this video. I was still into Paradox Live and I had dreams to introduce people to it. Too bad that I'm a procrastinator… I mean, I could have chosen IDOLiSH7 as starting point as well, but Paradox Live had a bigger cast :)

My motivation to work on it

Guys, I'm not even kidding. I was planning to use Paradox Live to (hopefully) get some people into Argopro. The project had some difficulties and I wanted to pull people into it, so I did it in a very roundabout way. After all, not a lot of Paradox Live seiyuus are in Argopro like bro what am I even doing!? When starting with the roles of Kajiwara Gakuto (Allen's VA), there were barely any solos for Haruka (his role in Argopro). I remember downloading/ripping the audio of Orthros, because that song was barely introduced. Good old times.

What did I want to achieve with this video?

Guys, I'm just a girl who really likes sharing her interests and I'm a big fan of listening to music of several music projects because I think they are nice and they are different from other music if that makes any sense + you can listen to your favourite seiyuus!!! This was a video for my close friends because I always try to get them to listen to songs or to check out projects. This was merely a tool I used, I guess. My friends love me and I love them. In the end, it wasn't even needed because I post plenty enough on my insta story.

How I made the video

Bros, let me tell you. This was one hell of a dumpster fire of making this video. I'm not kidding. If you think you you can do it, go for it. I will never do it again.

I made the video on my phone. My phone has seen better days, y'all. I first made the template in Ibispaintx and after that I went into YouCut to put the audio over it. I absolutely hated it because you couldn't delete the files if you had the videos in draft (otherwise it will get corrupted which makes sense), but it took a lot of storage. I ended up saving them seperately per character, but the pain I had to go through everytime I made a mistake was painful.

This video is like 22 minutes long, but it took me nearly 2 years to finish it ( •̥ࡇ•̥ )

A little extra for you all <3

I still have the very first version of this video, so I thought, I might as well upload it for others to check out how ewww it kinda is, lmao. It was such a rough draft, but you can't have it all, right? Here is the link (the video is still unlisted, so you won't find it online if you don't have the link).

Another extra, which are the Paradox Live edits (this is a link to my Amino post, so yeah, it's a hell hole ngl) I did 4 years ago. I wanted to use one of them as my thumbnail actually, but I decided not too because people may not be used to that and thus may consider it over the top…

#am i maybe dumb…!? #idolish7 #paradox live #argonavis #from argonavis #a3! #actors #clock over orquesta #bang dream #d4dj #Dig rock #Dragon's bite #Enlightribe #Ensemble stars #Fabulous Night #Gamdol #Given #hanadoll #Heavenlyhelly #helios rising heroes #HoneyWorks #Kare wa Vocalist #Lemon Squash Score #live us #Perfection Noise #Milgram #station idol latch #Technoroid #Tokyo Revengers #Tsukipro

[homebrewbydek]

Alright, well, I put it out to vote and the hexblade redux won!

Narrower than I thought it would be, tbh. I assumed hexblade would win but I was surprised how many votes I got for the war domain -- maybe I'll share that, too.

Anyway!

I hate the hexblade. Maybe that's a bit unfair, and extreme, but I feel like WotC really dropped the ball with it. It's potential was great, but it was just... a really missed opportunity. What the hell is that Spectre? Other than the first level, the subclass feels dreadfully uninspired, and honestly, I feel like they could have gotten a lot more done if they detached the word 'blade' from it.

Thus, I present the Arcane Vestige Otherworldly Patron.

In my reimagining, you form a pact with a magical artefact of some kind. It's not necessarily going to be a weapon, or have any kind of blade. I've renamed heblade's curse but left it the same because it was the only part of the class that didn't feel out of place. If it was going to be a blade-only thing, I might have changed it up -- perhaps instead of casting it on an enemy, you cast it on your sword, and regain hit points equal to your Charisma modifier when you kill an enemy? Alas, that's for another day.

I also binned the Charisma-for-attack-and-damage-rolls thing. Oh noes!! Why would I do such a thing! Because everyone takes unnecessary dips into a whole new subclass to get it and that bugs me. It's just an invocation now. You either have to commit to warlock to get it, or just take the Eldritch Adept feat, instead of wasting everybody's time. Anyway, cheer up, you get another attunement slot.

I threw out the Spectre. It makes no sense whatsoever. It's one of my huge gripes, actually. Instead, you can invoke your pact boon, creating one of four Pact Simulacrum, with the stat block being at the bottom of the subclass. This was based on the Summon spells from Tasha's, which I really liked, and off of an early spell draft I had for my hexblade warlock when I was trying to make it interesting. The spell was okay, but this is better.

At 10th level I beefed up the simulacrum a bit - overall this ability still feels a little underwhelming, but I'm struggling to think what to give it that doesn't push it over the edge into OP territory. Maybe something like what find steed gets, where if you cast a spell that effects you - cure wounds, blur, invisibility - it also effects your Simulacrum?

14th ability is just to make you more durable and useful on the battlefield - you can summon your simulacrum twice, and being close to it gives you resistance to the most common 'fighter' damage types.

I also reworked Hex Warrior into an invocation, added an unarmed strike option for those that want to be a bit feral with their pact boon, and updated Thirsting Blade to work with both.

Maybe people will hate this. I'm not sure. It's fine if you do, not everyone will ahve the same opinions and that's okay! But if hexblade let you down by being devoid of flavour and direction let me know if this does anything for you!

and here is a link back to my pinned for my other subclasses and lineages. ALT text is applied, I hope that it's useful for those that need it.

Stay fresh, cheesebags!

#homebrew #dungeons and dragons #5e #d&d #d&d 5e #dnd #d&d homebrew #fifth edition #5e homebrew #dnd 5e #hexblade #hexblade warlock #warlock #dmc v #grimoire weiss #neir

[logo-comics]

Katarina Termina

As promised, the AU that was inspired by THIS thread, but I'm going more in-depth on this here.

This AU is going with the idea of the Monkey Girl being reincarnated into someone who isn't integral to the plot of Fortune Lover. As I said in the linked thread, the name Katarina Termina came from my fanonical name for a rough draft of Katarina Claes being Tatiana Terni, a romanceable character borrowing the surname from @azure-wolf-227's name for the Queen's family.

Since I like that concept, I decided to not attach Katarina to that name, in order to give the harem an officially fair chance, even though my endgame is always the same ship when given the option.

The Termina Family:

Duke Odin Termina of Termina:

Portrait of a northern barbarian with fire magic. Despite Sorcier having a rather nice climate in general, his island some how manages to be permanently covered in snow, which necessitated the development of greenhouses and a massive keep that the people of his Duchy occupy. Looks much, much older than he is, and comes off as only slightly less intimidating that Luigi. Adores his family and has a love of the macabre that comes off as threatening to some. He and Luigi Claes have shared maybe ten words in court and tend to sit in the same general vicinity. He would call the man his close friend, if asked. He's also related to Miridiana through their great grandparents and knows Viscount Coleman by reputation, so he quickly figured out the Keith situation, but has never actually seen the family together, so he doesn't know about the family issues.

Duchess Tatiana Termina nee Smith:

There was quite a stir at court when Odin married his personal blacksmith, an orphan apprenticed to the blacksmith of the previous Duchess Termina, Odin's mother Belladonna (from whom he inherited his title), but they'd grown up together and fallen in love, and the northerners don't rightly care who marries whom unless agreements are being abruptly broken. Tatiana is a cheerful woman who will happily go on about how which weapons she designed are capable of doing what amount of damage to people. She also has a fondness for creating new weapons and has been working on what Bakarina would recognize as a flamethrower for years. There's a rumor in court that she's the result of one of the previous King's affairs due to her having golden hair and bright blue eyes behind her goggles, but there's no proof of that one way or another.

Katarina Termina:

Prior to Catarina Claes's accident and the subsequent scar on her forehead, Katarina Termina was one of the frontrunners for Prince Geordo's fiancee. She actually didn't have an opinion about that one way or another, being more interested in improving the greenhouses and her weapons training, as well as her interest in her mother's designs. She does have quite a fondness for sweets born from sweets being uncommon in Termina, and she doesn't have the most courtly of manners, but she was actually considered rather refined in the mead hall in Termina's Keep. She also later manages to "invent" the ice cream maker after regaining her past life memories. By sheer coincidence, she and Catarina Claes were born on the same day and look similar, save for Katarina having slightly darker hair and lighter eyes, as well as darker clothes in general and a sword that's always present on her hip. She has fairly weak fire magic, and unknowingly has moderately strong Dark Magic.

Anne Shelley:

She was sent to Termina, instead of the Claes land because Baron Shelley thought it would be best to send her somewhere that most people didn't know and also because, from an in-universe meta perspective, Katarina Termina is the cut content for Katarina Claes, so she gets the positive relationship with Anne that I give FL Katarina. Her relationship with Katarina was a slightly more professional version of her relationship with Bakarina, up until the training accident, when Katarina becomes notably more friendly and Anne winds up adapting. Her time in Termina actually let her become more of a free thinker, and Baron Shelley didn't even make it to the door of the keep before he was chased off. Despite not being related by blood, they treat her like part of the family, and, though she doesn't know it, Odin, Tatiana, and Katarina agreed that, if Katarina winds up engaged to someone who has to maintain their family title, Anne will be made the heiress to the ducal title.

The Training Accident:

During Katarina's first year at the Academy, she was in a friendly duel with a wooden sword with her sparring partner and best friend, Lady Penelope Blancarosa, whose family is allied to her own, with Sienna Nelson and Astrid Grimnir as their witnesses, only for a momentary distraction to cause her to drop her guard at exactly the wrong time, getting a blow to the head that woke up her Monkey Girl memories.

The Harem:

Geordo:

I feel like Katarina was someone he found interesting early on, which was why she was one of, if not the frontrunner prior to Catarina's injury. Since she lives on an island in the north, she only really visits during social functions, so he didn't notice all of the changes, since she was basically just a slightly more disciplined version of herself as Bakarina. He's still trying to figure out how to broach the subject of potentially leaving his fiancee to be with her specifically due to the fact that, as a northerner, she might take offense to him trying to break his engagement like that.

Keith:

Keith wound up developing into something just shy of being an actual playboy, but it's very close. While his relationship with the Claes is... strained, to say the least, he actually managed to meet and befriend Katarina Termina during a ball, causing him to be infatuated because of how kind she was to him. Alas, she has noted on occasion that's she's somewhat disappointed in him for all his flirting with pretty much every girl he meets, which hits hard enough that he never goes further than flirting and the occasional cafe date with his target du jour.

Mary:

As something of a horticultural hobbyist, Katarina, upon a social visit to the Hunt manor, finds herself musing upon how the person who tended to the field has a green thumb, not knowing Mary was in earshot. By sheer chance, she and Mary don't get to properly meet until another social event, when Alan directly tells Mary that she has a wonderful green thumb. Cue Mary having a Crisis when she properly meets the mysterious garden lover at that same event. Now she's trying to figure out a good way to get both of them, by whatever means she can scheme up.

Nicol:

Nothing much changes, to be honest.

Sophia:

No one is quite sure how she keeps managing to get to Termina, given that it's on an island, but she inevitably appears there to hang out with the girl who saved her from those bullies when she was little, who she feels oddly comfortable with in a familiar sort of way.

Alan:

Not much actually changes. Timeline shifts a bit and, due to Mary not messing with him to try to neutralize him as a rival, he has a surprisingly healthy understanding of his feelings for everyone around him. Geordo breaking decorum by showing his interest in Katarina despite his engagement to Catarina also helped him see Geordo as fallible and human, helping him feel more comfortable with his brother.

Raphael:

Due to Marchioness Dieke not letting Sirius go many places and Raphael having no real basis for comparison, he spent an unfortunate amount of time thinking that Katarina Termina and Catarina Claes were the same person. He's actually a bit embarrassed about it when the trial starts and he sees the two of them in the same place.

Maria:

Since the Training Accident happens prior to the Academy days, then Maria's life actually isn't all that different from canon. The only real change for Maria is that her beloved Lady Katarina has an evil doppelganger named Catarina Claes, who Maria has seen her chase off.

Other Noble Ladies:

Sienna Nelson:

As with Anne, this relationship is being transferred from Catarina to Katarina because Katarina is all of the positive traits that the developers cut from Catarina Claes. Her family is subordinate to the Termina family, so she grew up in Termina's Keep with Katarina, giving her more confidence.

Penelope Blancarosa:

Her family's lands are the closest mainland territories to Termina, so she and Katarina are very close friends, and a fellow lover of the art of swordsmanship. Katarina has seen her with Astrid Grimnir enough times to know they have feelings for each other, but Katarina wonders how any girl can be as oblivious as Penelope when it comes to realizing one's friend is in love with them.

Astrid Grimnir:

Daughter of the Baron Grimnir of Seithr, the self-proclaimed Young Wolf is an avid hunter, like her father, and loves seeing innovations in any technology. She's also completely in love with Penelope and quickly befriended Katarina after having met her while she was tweaking the systems of one of the greenhouses.

Marsha Catley:

Funnily enough, she gets along rather well with Katarina, though she does assume that Katarina was devastated by the fact that she wasn't chosen to be Geordo's fiancee.

Noelia Flores:

She and Katarina hate one another. No one is entirely sure why, and most are too afraid to ask.

Catarina Claes:

Katarina and Catarina are natural enemies as a result of their opposing views on various topics. The only thing they can agree on is their disdain for Noelia's purposeless, boring malice. Like I said in the original thread, paraphrasing Terry Pratchett is the best way to describe how they feel about one another: Catarina and Katarina shared a look. It said: While I loathe you and every aspect of your personal philosophy to a depth unplumbable by any line, I’ll credit you at least with not being Noelia Flores.” Despite this, Katarina is still trying to figure out a way to stop Catarina from ruining her own life and that of those around her out of pity for what her foreknowledge showed her of her possible fates. This, funnily enough, got Catarina to stop bothering Maria after the first week because she was getting concerned by Katarina looking disappointedly at her with her hand on her sword.

*Edited because I forgot to include Penelope and Astrid.

#hamefura #bakarina #my next life as a villainess #fortune lover meta post

[it-happened-one-fic]

Because I'd Loved Him All Along - Ace

Author's Notes: Happy Valentines Day! I intended to post something more Valentines themed but I found this in my drafts and, well, it's sort of a long story. Just know that you have no idea how close this (and it's partner fic) came to never being posted. I really don't know why I decided to write a fic from Reader's point of view and then a partner one from Ace's point of view. But here we are. Anyway, This was written while I listened to "Far Away" by Nickelback. It's angst with comfort and Reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Here's the link to the partner fic: Because He'd Loved You All Along (Ace's POV)

Type: Fluff/Angst with Comfort/Romantic/Probably not canon compliant/gender-neutral reader

Word Count: 1549

“Y/N!!!!” I flinched at the sound of my name being shouted from behind me by that familiar voice. Evidently enough, Grim had told him, and no doubt Deuce, what Crowley had just informed me of mere moments ago already.

I turned, expecting to see a bright grin and mischievously sparkling red eyes that would be so at odds with the muddled feelings in my heart. I was instead greeted by a deep frown and red eyes that were filled with ire. 

I all but stumbled backwards in surprise at the uncharacteristic expression on his face, “Ace?”

My voice was so tiny when it came out, but it did nothing to stop his speedy approach.

 A speedy approach that gradually slowed to a purposeful march as he stormed my direction. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” I offered a meek grin, unsure of why I echoed his question back at him. I knew exactly what he was talking about. What I didn’t know was why he was so upset about it. I’d honestly expected congratulations…..

“You know exactly what I’m talking about and don’t pretend you don’t. Are you leaving tomorrow?” My eyes managed to widen a bit further at his increasingly irritated tone. 

To be honest, I was thrown for a loop. 

Why was he mad? Why was I unsure about what I wanted to do? Was it true? I truly didn’t know the answer to any of these questions and Ace and his questions were only serving to confuse me more. Especially when his was the face that kept coming to mind when I even considered leaving Twisted Wonderland and returning home.

“I…I don’t understand, Why are you so mad?” I shook my head, confusion overwhelming me as I tried to find the answer to both his questions and mine. 

My question was met with an eye twitch and him crossing his arms, staunchly refusing to answer my question while also pressuring me to answer his without saying a single word. 

At this point I knew Ace well enough to realize he wasn’t budging till I’d puzzled out my answer. The very same answer I’d just been looking for before he’d come running up.

Go home tomorrow and probably never see any of the people I'd come to care for, or stay here and possibly miss out on my one chance to return to the life I knew and see my family and friends from before I came here? 

 It was a difficult conundrum that didn’t seem to have a right answer.

Which one would I regret more?  Impossible to say since I’d have regrets either way.

 I glanced up at Ace to find him still frowning at me, but his stance was a little different. Almost like he was softening in the face of my obvious confusion.

“I… I don’t know Ace,” His eyebrows lifted at my honest answer. It was perfectly obvious that it wasn’t the answer he wanted but… It was the only answer I had right now. So I continued, defending myself and my answer.

“It is true that I can go home tomorrow. Crowley just told me this morning. It’s also true that if I don’t take this chance I might never get another one…. He was very clear about that.” I stopped, remembering the Headmaster’s dooming words.

“This is a very rare opportunity! Most people are never even alive to see the proper alignment of the hundreds of factors that allow traversing between worlds… Much less twice! You’re incredibly lucky Y/n!” His beaming face had been the complete opposite of the intense sinking feeling I’d had when he’d told me.

I shook my head, dragging myself back to the present so that I could continue to explain. Half of me was surprised Ace hadn’t interrupted my thoughts yet, “So… I don’t know if I’m leaving. Leaving probably means I’d never see you or anyone else here again. But staying….”

I hesitated as my mind swirled with mounting horror as the gravity of the situation slowly began to crush me more and more and my voice began to crack, “Heavens…Can I even stay?”

I swallowed the pressure building in my throat. 

And here I thought I could handle anything after dealing with the overblots. Now I couldn’t even bring myself to look Ace in the eye as I wallowed in feelings of regret for things that hadn’t even happened yet.

Even I could tell I was spiraling as my previously coherent words slowly began to deteriorate along with my thoughts and feelings.

“I don’t even have a birth certificate and I don’t belong in this world…. What do my parents think has happened to me? Do they think I’m dead?” I at last met Ace’s gaze, fighting to hold back the tears that now began to sting my eyes.

His red eyes, usually so bright and cheerful, were now wide and unsure. He didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t blame.

 I’d always been the strong one that didn’t panic even in the worst situation. And yet here I was breaking down in front of him. I was ashamed.

This shouldn’t be difficult for him. It wasn’t even his problem. It certainly shouldn’t be difficult for me. The answer should be easy. I should go home and return to how things were.

 I should forget the mischievous boy who’d been by my side since the very start of things and had supported me through some of my most dangerous experiences. Simply put, I should move one.

Yet here I stood, tears welling up in my eyes even as I fought them, staring at the boy that held my heart in his hands and silently begging him for an answer. I didn’t know what to do this time and I couldn’t be the strong one this time.

This time I was going to shatter into a million pieces before blowing away on the winds of regret and sorrow. Because I knew exactly what I would do.

I was a coward who couldn’t face uncertainty without support. And if I didn’t receive that support I would disappear from this world altogether and fade into a vague memory.

I inhaled, a long trembling breath, “What should I do Ace? I don’t know anymore… What should I do?” My voice came out small and broken. I wanted to curl up and hide where no one would see my pitiful state. My head lowered as I looked downwards, refusing to let tears come out where anyone could see.

And then I felt it. One hand grabbing my arm and tugging me forwards while his other arm wrapped around my waist in a tight hug. 

I was frozen, waiting and expecting his typical scoff that would be followed by a sassy comment meant to make me laugh, but it never came. Instead, I felt myself relax and melt into his embrace just in time to hear him start talking in an impossibly soft voice.

“I don’t know Y/n… But I do know you should do whatever will make you happy.” He leaned back, pressing his forehead to mine and giving me a pointed stare, “The rest of it doesn’t matter. Do what you want to do.”

“But what if-”

“No what if’s. You don’t have magic and you can’t see the future. You have to make a choice and it doesn’t matter if it's wrong or right. You just have to make a choice.” His voice held a firmness that it only ever carried when he was scolding someone, but it really didn’t feel like I was being scolded.

He maintained his stern expression, demanding an answer just like before. But this time it was different. It didn’t feel like he was angry. It felt like he was trying to help me in his own strange way.

“If I stay…” Something flickered deep within his eyes that made me pause, hesitation flooding in before I could myself continue. 

But then my fingers curled tighter into his jacket as I forced myself to continue even as iI relied on him for support,“If I stay here, will you stay with me?”

I suppose that was the heart of the matter. I was afraid that even if I did stay, I might not be able to remain with him or anyone I was close to. They might move one, find new friends and forget me even if I chose to abandon my home and stay with them.

I watched him nervously, fearful of his answer and wary of his teasing. A slow smile appeared on his face and the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly, “Haven’t I stayed with you this whole time? If I leave you’ll get yourself into trouble.”

The tears that pricked at my eyes, but they were different now. Instead of tears of distress and heartbreak these were tears of relieved joy that only seemed to amuse him further. 

“I’ll stay with you because….” He trailed off, an uncharacteristically gentle smile on his face as he closed his eyes, keeping his forehead pressed to mine.

But he didn’t have to finish. Because even if I didn’t know how he would have finished his statement I knew how I would.

Because I’d loved him all along.

#Twisted Wonderland x reader #Ace x reader #Ace Trappola #Happy Valentines Day! #gender-neutral reader #fluff #romantic #angst with comfort #Ace x you #Ace x y/n #Twisted wonderland x you #Twisted Wonderland x y/n #Twst #Twst x reader #Twst x you #Twst x y/n #Far Away Nickelback #POV fic #mywritings #fanfiction #Disney TW #Disney fanfiction #I think this is my first Ace fic #What fun #Heartslabyul