#(for the record I think him calling my car that BEFORE I came out/even realized I was gay myself is like. peak comedy right there.)

[badolmen]

And my mom wonders where my siblings and I get our obsessiveness from…

[pepperonidk]

the kids are alright || l.c

pairing: dad!lee chan x mom!reader warnings: reader goes by mom word count: 1362 summary: parenthood is chaotic, but things will come out alright in the end

a/n: i’ve been binge watching modern family and i felt bad for my latest jihoon angst so i thought i’d offer some tooth rotting fluff as an olive branch

main masterlist || taglist

“Okay,” you let out a sigh as you plopped down on the sofa beside your husband who was slipping his socks on. “That’s all three ready for school.” 

“Really?” Chan looked down at his watch with an impressed look. “With 6 whole minutes to spare. That’s gotta be a record.” You rolled your eyes playfully at him.

Before you could bask in the glory of mastering your kids’ morning routine however, a shrill voice called your name from upstairs. “Mom, I can’t find my biology project.”

Chan sucked in a breath and shook his head. “Spoke too soon,” he teased. You playfully shoved him as you stood from the couch and headed towards the kitchen. You and Chan had spent the better part of last night helping your daughter Jia with a diorama for her biology class (read: you and Chan did all the work). 

“It’s in the kitchen,” you called back as she came down the stairs. “Do you have everything else?” 

“Yeah,” she replied, grabbing the project off the counter and rushing behind you to the fridge to grab a water bottle. “Oh, one of the gremlins said they need cash for something at school today though.”

“Honey,” you chastised. “Don’t call your siblings that, it’s not nice.” By the end of your warning, she was already in the living room asking her father for a ride to the mall after school. 

“She called us what?” Minjun, one of the twins, asked as he entered the room with his jacket halfway on and his lunch box halfway unzipped. You rushed over to help him, letting out a sigh.

“Nothing,” you answered him before calling on your husband when you realized one of your kids had yet to make it downstairs. “Chan can you grab Minji? She’s still in her room.” 

Chan quickly replied a quick “Sure,” before running up the stairs to grab the other twin. It wasn’t until you heard Minji squeal as he literally grabbed her and picked her up that you turned your attention back to Minjun.

“Jia said you and Minji needed money today?” You questioned him as you inspected him to make sure he didn’t forget anything else. 

“Yeah,” he replied, ruffling his hair. “We have a class trip next week that we’re supposed to pay for.”

“A class trip?” you echoed back. “I didn’t know you had a class trip.”

Minjun shrugged his shoulders in response. “Minji and I told dad about it last week,” he explained.

You looked up at your husband coming down the stairs with your daughter riding on his shoulders. “Chan?” you questioned with your hands on your hips.

“Right,” he responded sheepishly. “I think I have the permission slips in my briefcase.” He set Minji down and quickly went to his study to find the slips. He returned and handed one piece of paper to each twin, only for Minji to groan.

“Ugh, dad,” she complained. “You gave me Minjun’s.” She and her brother swapped papers before stuffing them in their backpacks without a care and you cringed at the sight of their papers crumpling in the mess.

“Whoops,” Chan ran a hand through his hair. “Does everyone have everything?”

“Yes,” all three called in response.

“Alright, team,” he clapped and began with a cheery voice. “Happy Monday.”

It wasn’t until the kids were all dropped off that you and Chan were able to actually have a minute to yourselves. It was a rare day that you were both off from work and an even rarer day that the kids weren’t home. Although you very much loved your kids, it wasn’t hard to admit that it was nice to have a break from them every once in a while.

You and Chan had taken separate cars to drop the kids off so you could stop by the grocery store to pick up some things you were low on and by the time you finally made it back home, Chan was curled up on the couch watching a kids’ cartoon. You smiled at the sight of him clad in his old pajamas and with Minjun’s Spider-Man blanket only covering a small portion of his body.

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly before sitting up. Once he noticed the grocery bags in your hands, he stood up to grab them from you before heading into the kitchen to help you put the groceries away.

“How was drop-off?” he asked you as he put the produce in the fridge.

“It wasn’t too bad today,” you shrugged. “I got to the twins’ school before the typical traffic jam, so you know… a happy Monday indeed.” You smirked at Chan, feeling proud of your small win for the day. “What about you?”

Chan let out a sigh, now folding up the emptied grocery bag. “Jia made me drive at like half the speed limit,” he glared at you as you laughed at his misery. “She said that her diorama was precious cargo and then went on a tangent about how her whole future is on the line and blah, blah–”

You swatted him playfully. “Honey, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal for us as parents to blah blah our kids,” you joked.

Chan simply scoffed. “Show me where in the parent rulebook it says that,” he replied as you rolled your eyes. “I did what she asked, anyway. Took us almost 30 minutes to get to the drop-off area, but I did it, because I’m an amazing father.” He leaned back against the counter while you finished putting away the last box of cereal.

“You definitely are,” you agreed with just a hint of sarcasm in your voice as you walked back to the living room with your husband hot on your heels.

“Hey,” he stuttered, and without even turning to look at him, you knew his lips were pushed into a pout. “I am an amazing father.”

You laughed as you plopped down onto the sofa where he was earlier and took the small blanket for yourself. “I never said you weren’t,” you replied impishly. “But remember that time when you forgot Jia–”

Chan cut you off by sitting down next to you and poking your side, eliciting a squeal from you. “I didn’t forget her,” he corrected. “I was teaching her a lesson about being independent. I only made it to the parking lot before I remembered.” The last part came out mumbled and you let out a laugh. 

“Well what about the time Minjun asked for ketchup on his fries and you accidentally put sriracha sauce on it instead?” Chan retorted.

“Hey,” you chided, poking him back on the side. “I was also teaching him a lesson.”

“Yeah?” Chan teased, grabbing your hands to stop you from retaliating. “What lesson were you teaching him? That sriracha is scary?”

“No,” you retorted. “That uh… that sometimes moms make mistakes.” You pouted at the end of your sentence and Chan chuckled before pulling you onto his lap.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he cooed and you buried your face into his neck. “At least it was a funny mistake.” You poked him in the rib one last time as he let out a pained chuckle. He tightened his hold around you and the two of you stayed quiet for a beat with only the sound of the cartoon playing in the background.

“Chan,” you called his name softly. “Do you think the kids are gonna be alright?”

He hummed thoughtfully before replying. “Of course,” he replied softly and with seriousness. “We’re good parents.”

“Even though I fed my 3 year old son sriracha?” you asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “And even though I almost forgot a 7 year old at the store.”

You laughed against his chest. “How do you know that?”

“Because they have parents who love them and will love them no matter what,” he pulled away from you to look into your eyes. “And even if we make mistakes along the way, we don’t stop trying to do better, and neither will they.”

“The kids are lucky to have you,” you replied before leaning up to meet Chan in a soft kiss. “And so am I.”

taglist: @yksthings @iamxelia @coveyland @xuimhao @sana-is-ms-rmty @gummymintae

[marvelous-slut]

Call Back - Chibs Telford x Reader

YALL!! I can’t lie, I am a hoe for this troupe if you can’t tell from my other works. Like the close friends daughter? Idk it makes me feral. I swear to god I don’t have daddy issues, like I have the best dad ever so idk why I’m like this but here’s this work that has been stuck in my drafts for weeks.

MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY! Age gaps & smut.

You watched the club members make their way into the club house as you puffed on the joint that rested between your fingers. Chucky had kept you company while you waited for them to come back from a run. As much as you wanted to slap the shit out of Chibs when he come through the door, you held back. Knowing you couldn’t risk Clay finding out that one of his most trusted members had been with his daughter right under his nose. Even if through all the rage you felt right now toward him, you’d never want him to get hurt.

While the MC was on a run, you’d realized you’d forgot many of your things at Chibs house the night before they left. He told you were the extra key was through text for you to get them back, a part of you wished you’d never went in. You found your things and as you did, the phone rung. Before you shut the door to leave, you heard a voice mail being recorded and decided to stay and listen. Sure, maybe it was a little bit of an invasion of privacy but you wanted to know who else needed to talk to him besides the club and you.

“It’s Fi. Fillip, I want our family back. Jimmy is gone, hasn’t been here for months. Haven’t heard from him either. There’s no sense in us stayin’ apart now. Let me know when you get this, please.” Family? What family? The only family you’d known Chibs to have was the MC. You cursed yourself for not listening to Clay and Gemma more when they’d talk about the members and their lives. You’d think the feelings you’d had for Chibs through the years of being around the club would have made your ears perk up when they’d chat about him. Maybe it was a detail you’d heard and didn’t care about, as you’d never met or seen him with a woman, thinking it was an old fling. Chucky filled you in once you brought it up, telling you how Chibs had been married before with a daughter. He didn’t know much more besides that.

“You gotta go home, no need for you to be here.” Clay says, throwing his bag on the pool table. “And put that shit out, this place reeks of pot cause of you.” He walks past you, just like you were a stranger in the house. You didn’t know what happened on the run, but it had to be something tough. Clay typically treated you and Gemma both like dirt on his shoes when a run went bad or an issue come up with the club. It didn’t make the coldness he came off with sting any less. The hurt was plastered on your face, you put your joint out in the ash tray and ran out of the club house in tears. Pushing past Chibs as you did. Jax looks at him, confused as to what happened.

“Think it’s somethin’ with Clay. I’ll go make sure she’s okay.” He says, Jax nods his head and follows the rest into the house. Jax cared about you, sometimes both of you thought he cared more about you than Clay but right now he had to fill his role as VP.

“Love,” He begins to say. You turn around, laughing as you did. Between the new found information of him being married and your fathers cold demeanor toward you, something snapped inside of you.

“Shut up!” You yell at him, he’s confused and shocked as you’d never talked to anyone this way before in your whole life. Even if you had Gemma for a step mom you weren’t quick to yell out in anger or use your fists to resolve issues like her, even sometimes being like a dog that keeps getting beat down makes anyone eventually explode. “Don’t you have a fucking wife to get back to?” You ask, Chibs eyes widen. He’s speechless and you take the opportunity to get in your car and drive off from the club. Wanting to be anywhere but here.

_____

You laid on your bed looking up at the ceiling, unable to think of anything other than Chibs. Even your father snapping at you today didn’t hurt like this did. That you were used to, being lied to by someone you trusted deeply wasn’t. It was 12:42AM, not a word from Chibs or Clay. You were shocked that Gemma hadn’t been crawling up your ass to find out where you were. Typically you’d go over to visit before heading to your house but today you just wanted to be alone. Trying to sleep hadn’t worked out in your favor and you’re forced to lay in bed with only your many racing thoughts. Before anything else can cross your mind, you hear a knock at the door. You grab your pistol, not knowing who would be here at this time of night. When you look through the peep hole, you’re somewhat shocked at who you see.

“What do you want?” You ask, opening the door. A part of you was excited that he was here so the two of you could talk, but the anger in you didn’t want to see him at all.

“I want to talk.” He says, pushing past you into the house. You couldn’t lie, it was kind of hot that he asserted himself like this. It was always sexy when he did it, one of the many reasons you liked him. He sits down on the couch and you sit on the other end, looking at him. He was looking at you, almost like he was waiting on an explanation. You chuckled, slapping your hands on your thighs as you did.

“What?” You ask sharply, he leans back into the cushions, placing his hands on the top of his head.

“I listened to the voicemail that you heard, and deleted it as soon as it was done playin’. I married Fi when I was in Ireland and younger, a man named Jimmy O got me kicked out of the IRA and married Fi. Raised my daughter, Kerrianne.” This was a lot to process right now, your head still swimmy from the tears youd shed through the day. “Also, did this to ma face.” He says, pointing at the scars that ran over his cheeks. You sit, listening to everything he’s saying. It sounds like some kind of TV show, how the hell do you get kicked out of a country unless you’re a terrorist?

“Listen lass, I should have told you about Fi and my Kerrianne, but it just wasn’t something I thought about bringin’ up to ya. You make me forget all the bad shit in my life, when I’m with ya I don’t have to think about any of it.” He moves over to sit beside you, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “Fi hasn’t had a hold on me since the day you decided to spill ya drink on me.” You smiled at him and laughed. It was your first night back in Charming after moving away for college, Chibs only faintly remembered you when you were younger but you’d made an impression on him your first night back. Being drunk out of your mind, staggering everywhere and eventually bumping into him and your drink flying all over him. You sigh deeply, looking away from him as you attempt to hold anymore tears from coming out. He turns your head back to him, resting his forehead onto yours.

“I know it’s wrong and I know Clay would put a bullet in ma head if he knew about this, but I love you lass. I can’t help it.” He says, at this moment you don’t need to hear anything else he has to say. You lay your lips onto his and he returns the favor. You feel his rough and calloused hands run up your leg, shivering as the coldness from his rings hits your skin. You let out a soft whimper as you’d missed this familiar feeling of his hands on your body.

“How I’ve missed that noise.” He breathes out, breaking the kiss. You stand up, adjusting your clothes. You don’t know why you did, sooner rather than later they’d be scattered across the floor anyways. You reach a hand out and he accepts, following you to your bedroom. Once the two of you are in, he sheds his kutte and lays it on the desk that sits in your corner. The familiar scent of whiskey and cigarette smoke takes over your senses as he places his lips to your neck, kissing gently and carefully not to leave a mark on your precious skin. Before you knew it, your shorts and underwear were scattered on the ground along with his clothes. You lay down on the bed as he hovers over you, typically you got things rolling by landing on your knees for him but he felt like he needed to make this about you. The beads that hang from his neck are hanging in-front of your face, a sight you’ll never get tired of seeing. You feel his hand sliding to your dripping cunt, he slides in two fingers and you arch your back in pleasure. He would have started off with one, but he knew you’d immediately tell him to add another just like you always did.

“So beautiful.” He says as he’s kissing the inside of your thighs. “So wet.” The kisses, how his fingers curl inside of you, hitting your spot just right it was all enough to send your head spinning. His fingers are buried deep in you, but he’s moving them at such an agonizing pace. Knowing you were going insane and silently begging him to spend up his movements. He leans down to you, placing his lips onto yours. This time it’s messy, almost sloppy but you don’t mind.

“Always takin’ my fingers so well, can you still take this cock just as good love?” It had been a few weeks since the two of you had sex due to him being on the run and you’d longed for this moment since the day he left with the MC for Tacoma. You nodded your head yes, knowing if you tried to speak you’d just embarrass yourself by stammering around. He slides himself into you, your hands tighten around his arms as you feel yourself stretch around him. Once he’s buried himself into you and sees the pleasure across your face, he starts to thrust into you slowly trying to set his pace.

“Fuck.” You manage to moan out, he moves the hair from your face so he can take in your beauty. To the both of you, the sex you had was like a drug. Once never being enough. The first time it happened, he insisted it would be the last as well. The minute he slid himself inside of you, seeing your face and feeling you clench around him he knew he’d made himself a liar. Every-time was sensual, even when it was a quick fuck it was always meaningful.

“You always take me so well, love. Almost like this pussy was made just for me.” He lets out as the grip on your hips tightens. You feel your stomach begin to tighten, your face burning and you know you’re there. He knows it too, pumping into you steadily but harsher. “Be a good girl and let go all over me aye?” The words sent you over the edge, bucking your hips against him to intensify the experience. It sends him over the edge, watching you like you can’t get enough of him and he releases into you. Not worrying wether there was a condom on or not. He pulls himself out, grabbing a towel to help you clean up and get himself situated. You wrap yourself up in a silk robe as you watch him dress, knowing the worst moment of him leaving was coming.

“You know you can stay right? Dad shouldn’t be down this way anytime soon.” You tried your best, hoping he’d give in. He sighs, tightening his belt. He walks over to you, kissing your forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow love. I have some things to take care of tonight.”

Chibs rides home, it’s almost 3AM and he’s feeling it as his eye lids become heavier and heavier. He silently thanks God when he makes it inside that he didn’t crash his bike into a semi on his way here from the fatigue. He sits on the couch, staring at the phone. He listens to the voicemail from Fiona once more, thinking of her and the life they had. How they had a shot of getting that back. His mind then went to you, he loved you and he couldn’t shake the feeling. He hated to lie to you, but at this moment he didn’t know which path to go down. Telling you the voicemail and feelings for his wife were gone was better than saying “I don’t really know what to do”. He couldn’t bare the thought of hurting you as he’d already seen how that went earlier in the day at the club house.

He didn’t fear anyone, but he knew it would be tricky with you due to Clay. He knew he’d never be able to boast or call you his old lady. Things would be a secret till the day Clay died, and Chibs didn’t like keeping those. He picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number, praying he’d get the mailbox before he had anymore time to think.

“Hey Fi. It’s Fillip. Just wanted to see if you still wanted to talk.”

[justangelheree]

escapism-matt sturniolo (18+)

masterlist

warnings: drinking, cursing, kissing, break up, partying, drugs, use of pet names, choking, creampie, unprotected sex (please wrap it before u tap it), oral(f receiving), confession?, little bit of soft dom matt not proofread like always🙉

summary: reader gets broken up with, after a little drinking she ends up at matt’s door. will he give in to her thoughts?

i wake up with tear stained cheeks and my hair all messed up. i get out of bed looking at myself in the mirror. god i look a mess over some guy. i sigh as i get up texting my friends we’re doing out tonight and they all agreed.

as i got into the shower i was just thinking was i upset that he broke up with me or that i wouldn’t have a boyfriend anymore? i laughed as i got out. i was still hurt but it is what it is. i needed to get forget about him and move on.

as i got ready i put on my favorite black dress that my ex would never let me wear. felt so good to do whatever i want and god did i look good. it was strapless so my boobs were pushed up and my figure looked amazing.

i sat down at my vanity putting on my makeup and doing my hair. i just have forgot how much of a bad bitch i was because damn i look good. i facetimed one of my best friend nala telling her i was ready to go and ill be on my way to her house.

as i hopped in my car connecting my phone to aux playing the hills by the weekend turning the radio up. i got to my friends house getting out the car an walking in i didn’t need to knock. she gave me a hug “girl im sorry his ass broke up with you he was an asshole anyway. moving on to bigger and better things” she spoke.

“and i hope bigger dicks too” i replied giggling. “you ready to go!” she said excitedly. i nodded as she ordered the uber. as the uber arrived she locked her door and we walked outside into the uber. “everyone should already be on there way” i said looking up from my phone. she nodding sliding some pill on her tongue i’ve never seen before. i shook my head smiling at her knowing she was in for a ride tonight.

about an hour later im a couple shots deep since my group of friends kept ordering them an who was i to say no. my body was now almost numb but in a good way, a freeing way.

on the dance floor me and nalas bodies pressed together as we danced to music in the background. nala grabbed my phone from my pocket going to snapchat and recording me bending down and twerking on her. she posted it to my story giggling giving me my phone back.

i giggle back singing along to whatever song was playing as i walked to the bar. i got another drink sitting on a stool scrolling through instagram when a certain someone’s post came up. matt sturniolo a guy i used to flirt and hook up with before i got a boyfriend and man did he look extra fucking fine.

all of a sudden i got hot and sweaty as a wet patch grew in between my thighs thinking about our past experiences. i started to get needy for something i didn’t even know. i needed to go see him. he wouldn’t even be shocked if i pulled up to his house because we used to always show up out of nowhere just to fuck. god was i really this drunk?

i called nala over to me and said i was gonna leave and she gave me a hug goodbye before sliding a bag of pills and a condom into my purse i laughed at her as she walked back to our friends.

matt.

matt

matt.

was all that rung through my head. i hoped into my uber debating it i should take the pills but then i realized girl wtf no. it was hard to not move around to create friction being drunk and horny.

the uber parked right outside his apartment i opened the door as i grabbed my bag and walked to the door. i knocked on the door hope his brothers weren’t home. the boy i’ve been needy for half the night answers the door.

“princess what are you doing here?” matt spoke rubbing his eyes. i could melt just from his words. “i just came from the club and i need you matty” i said quietly. he nodded as he moved out the doorway so i could walk in. he shut the door turning me around to face him.

“need me to help you baby” he softly said. i nodded my head as i whined. “come on mattys here to help” he whispered as he took me to his room. he shut the door behind him locking it.

as he stepped closer to me he wrapped he’s hand around my throat connecting our lips. i walked back letting myself fall onto his mattress not breaking the kiss. his arms were on the sides of me keeping himself up. his lips found my neck lightly sucking as i moan feeling super sensitive from the alcohol.

“gonna make you feel good” matt spoke as he reached his hands to the bottom of my dress lifting it over my head. he groaned as my body was on display infront of him realizing i only had underwear on.

his fingers touched my folds through my underwear “already wet baby, you been thinking about me doing this?” he questioned. “fuck.. yes matt been needing you to touch me all night” i answered.

he slide my panties down my leg as i lifted my hips up to help him. “been missing this pussy so bad. too bad your shitty boyfriend had to take it from me” he spoke rubbing my clit in circles i moaned out at his actions. “i’m not with him anymore matt.. he broke up with me” i struggled to get out.

“im sorry princess i don’t know why he would ever part from this pussy” he said dipping his head down connecting his month to my pussy. i slide my hand to his head lightly gripping his hair. he moans against me send vibrations threw me.

i rock my hips against his face as a euphoric feeling rising in my stomach. he pushes my torso down so i’m stuck in place as he just devours me. “fuck.. matt keep going” i moan out back arching against the bed.

his hand reached reached up to grab my boobs kneading them. the overstimulation of my body sent the pit of my stomach out on to his tongue. he pulled away licking his lips. “best pussy i’ve ever tasted” i smiled as i pulled him back up kissing his now swollen lips.

i reached my hands underneath his shirt pulling it above his head taking him in. “god am i drunk or did you get finer?” i question giggling. he laughed shaking his head reaching down to take his pants off.

it felt like he was taking ages to get undressed so u spoke up. “matt please..” he aligned himself infront of me. “please what princess?” he gently spoke. “i don’t want to feel how i did last night so matt just take this pain away!” i raised my voice slighty at him.

“ill give you what you want but dont raise your voice at me. every. again.” he stated wrapping his hand around my throat before pushing himself into me. only response i had was a pornagrapic moan coming out my mouth.

“such a good fucking girl” he said as i clenched around him. my hands find his neck bringing him close to my face sharing breaths. his thumb slid onto my bottom lip as i open my mouth and let his finger slip into my lips on my light sucking his finger and swirling my tongue around it.

he groaned as he kept his finger into my mouth holding my jaw bucking his hips deeper into me. my moan vibrating his thumb that rested on my tongue. his mouth taking the place where his thumb once was. “fuck matt give me it all.. please” i said digging my nails into his skin.

he obeys putting all of his dick in me i whine out from his actions. “you got it. take it like a good girl.” he spoke throwing his head back. “fuck.. fuck.. matt!” before i could say anything pleasure rushed over me as i dragged my nails down matt’s back.

he moaned against my neck thrusting into me gripping my hips. “i’m almost there baby doing so well for me.” he whispered as i whined from being overstimulated. a few more thrust and a warm liquid was now filling me up. his moans were being covered by my neck, i reached up to rub his face as he came down from his high.

“can we just stay like this for now?” i spoke softly. “anything you want baby” he whispered back. “one thing i will let you know is that im never letting you or this pussy go ever.” he said wrapping my legs around him as he reposition us. i smiled as i cuddle into him getting sleepy.

if you want to be tagged lmk!

tags: @lustfulslxt @oversturn @ilovemattsturn @oliviasturniolo21 @wh0szjoanna @flowerxbunnie

a/n: so sorry if i forgot to tag people some of my posts i can’t see comments but i hoped you enjoyed! also sorry it took me forever i am school and im still in the process of unpacking but two new smuts will be out soon. as always i🤍u

[whowantslovergirl]

Can’t get enough

Rachel Green x reader (reader is male with he/him pronouns)

warnings: reader is male bc i genuinely can’t see her with a girl, if you don’t like that don’t read 🤷‍♀️, allusions to smut, talks about sex, suggestive but cute, reader is called hot multiple times and hope you enjoy my lovers 🤍

friends masterlist

Summary: The one where Rachel cant get enough of her new lover

posted: March 29, 2024

Rachel tried to sneak in again. She thought Monica was asleep but…..

“Wow! It’s five in the morning! New record Rach! I’m proud of you!!” Monica said with a very sarcastic tone. “Alright the tone is not necessary Monica.”

“This the fifth time you come home looking like you have a hanger in your mouth and the same clothes.” Before Rachel tried to defend herself.

“Who’s the guy?”

Rachel started laughing nervously. “What?! What guy? There is no guy.” As if the universe had it out for her you walked in with her sweater she left in your car. “Hey doll you left this…” Then you realized that you guys weren’t alone. “Hi.” You said while waving awkwardly. Monica was just jaw dropped. The hottest guy she had ever seen walked in through her door and is now in her apartment.

“Well Ima go bye Rach.” You gave her a kiss and rushed out the door.

“No guy?!”

“Who was that Rachel?”

“Just this guy I’ve been seeing for like a week.” Monica gave her a look. “Fine like a few months.”

“What!”

______

“So they know huh?” You guys were in your apartment just laying down and watching tv. “Yea Monica told all of them but don’t worry they don’t know what you look like. Oh! And she thinks you’re hot.” That made your confidence go very high. “Not surprised.” You shrugged with a smirk. “Oh shut up.” She leaned for a kiss and you got to work.

Leaving her very satisfied.

______

Phoebe comes rushing in Monica’s apartment completely out of breath.

“I just seen the hottest guy on the way here! When I tell you it should be illegal to look that good.” She said smirking to herself. Then by coincidence you came walking in the apartment. Everyone looked at you with love eyes even the guys.

“Now that is one attractive man.” Ross whispered and the other guys agreed.

“Um hi I’m here for Rachel.”

“Oh lucky bastard!” You heard the blonde lady under her breath. You looked at her with confusion and she blushed like crazy. Rachel came rushing out of her room. “Hii.”

“Hey doll looking beautiful as always.” She giggled. You kissed her and got her jacket and helped her to the door. When you guys walked out everyone was quiet.

“Who the hell was that guy?!” Joey exclaimed.

______

Rachel was sat down at the table with Monica and Phoebe. They were interrogating her about you.

“Alright Green you’re going to tell else everything you know!” Phoebe yelled making Rachel flinch. “Is this really necessary?” Rachel said while rolling her eyes. They both nodded and got to the questioning.

“Is he our age?”

“Yes.”

“Is he a model?”

“No but I keep telling him he should-.”

“We’re asking the questions Rachel!” Monica said.

“What car does he drive?”

“A chevy.” She smiled.

“Did you guys say I love you yet?”

“No! Oh my god no! This is just a casual thing.”

They just left her alone but they asked if you can come over and you did.

______

“What’s your occupation?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“Successful?”

“I mean I would say so?” You shrugged.

“You have a brother?”

“Or father?” Phoebe added.

“Yes I have a dad and no I don’t have a brother.”

“These are nothing like my questions!” Rachel said.

They all just looked at her. “Yea I’ll just shut up.”

______

You guys were all in the coffee shop. You and Rachel were cuddled up on the chair. She was just sitting on your lap and you had your arms around her waist. She was playing with your hair. You turn to look at the group and you see Joey? staring at you.

“Can I help you?”

“How much did all that cost?” He said really staring at you.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean you got work done right?”

“Joey!” They all exclaimed.

“What?! There is no way that is natural.”

“Well it is?” Then he came up to you feeling up your face. “Joey! Stop!” Rachel said while smacking his hands.

“Wow it is natural!”

______

“Monica I don’t know okay?! I have to meet Y/n in like fifteen minutes.”

“Just a pick a dress Rachel!”

Monica was going on a date tonight and she didn’t know what dress to wear. The red one or the black one.

“Well the red dress brings out your eyes.”

“But the black dress is sexier.” Monica said. “Then wear the black dress!”

“But the red dress Rachel!”

“Ugh!” She rolled her eyes and threw her head back to the couch. The phone started ringing. Rachel picked it up and it was you.

“Hey doll.”

“Hi Y/n.” She said in a dreamy voice.

“Where are you? It’s been like fifteen minutes.”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I’ll be there in ten okay?”

“Yeah okay and it’s alright. You can make it up to me later.” It’s like she can hear the smirk.

“Oh that I will.”

“Bye doll.”

‘I have the hottest boyfriend’ She thought as she got ready.

______

After your date and the best sex you ever had you guys went back to Monica’s apartment to drop Rachel off.

“Alright want me to walk you in?” She nodded and unlocked the door and all the friends were there. “Hey Y/n!” They all said when they saw you.

“Hey guys”

“Um what about me?!” Rachel said.

They all looked at Rachel. “Hi Rachel!”

She turned to you. “I swear they like you more than me.”

“No they don’t.” You said rolling your eyes.

“Yes we do!” Joey said.

Even though they like you more than Rachel.

She can’t get enough.

An: can’t end fics for SHITTTT but hope you enjoyed lovers 🤍

[just-a-sleepy-idiot]

Roommate! Herbert West Imagine: Reader having that time of the month

Content/Warnings: Gender neutral Reader!, ties in with my previous fic of him, mild Swearing, Sexism from Dr. Hill

It‘s the 80‘s and even medicine is behind on actually understanding the reproductive health and needs of anyone they don’t consider the standard human being which directly translates into ‚white male‘. There is shame and secrecy on the topic, so you had every reason to believe that it would become immensely uncomfortable as soon as your new roommate saw you in that state. Thankfully, he was so preoccupied with his experiments at all times that you doubted he would notice if you came home one day wearing a Mohawk.

It wasn’t that you ever really saw Herbert outside of his selfmade lab in your basement. Besides his products in the bathroom, his neatly arranged self and the fact that he hasn’t starved yet you had no evidence of him ever actually using any other rooms in your shared flat. Sometimes you imagined him doing mundane tasks to fill in the blanks of never actually seeing him do any. Like ironing his many dress shirts and ties, cleaning his glasses, putting on socks. Now that you were thinking about it it may be more weird of you to be imagining that than the topic itself.

You usually hid your period products out of sight in the bath, hoping he wouldn’t find it so no awkwardness would ensue. It was simply how you were brought up, and having to pretend that this literal bodily function didn’t happen was unnerving. Especially since you realized that you had just gotten your period- and that you had no more products in the house. Fuck fuck fuck-

you just stuffed your underwear with some tissues for now, hoping to swipe some pads in the Hospital without anyone noticing. Surely you would make it till work.

Herbert already called out for you from outside, reminding you that you needed to go now if you wanted to be punctual. Before he didn’t bother waiting for you even though you were going the same way, outside of your Home one wouldn’t have assumed that you were roommates by the way he just minded his business. Lately however he started going to work with you, which rendered your watch practically unnecessary because he was always very much on time.

You came out of the bathroom and grabbed your bag, ready to go. You were very speedy today because you were trying to distract yourself from the cramps you were getting, you might need to get more than just pads from the Hospital once you were there.

What you didn’t expect was that once you arrived, your colleagues were all over you and you were thrown in to handle a full on emergency before you could even think of aiding yourself. You hurriedly waved to Herbert before you were involved in tending to multiple serious wounds of a car crash victim.

You initially planned to go around with him and look into the listing of freshly deceased patients together, as you were looking for a suitable person to test the Reagent on. And shortly after you were finally released from the patient your Roommate picked you up right after, urging you to go after your plan now so it was hard to call for a bathroom break, or rather a ‚I need to find a storage room with nobody in it and stuff my pockets with tampons‘ break. You were starting to get a headache.

Both of you were now hurriedly flipping through files, you had to be quick before someone got suspicious. Herbert had made himself known quickly with his sunshine attitude, especially since he was so keen to piss off your resident Narcissist Top Surgeon Dr Hill. It wouldn’t go unnoticed if anyone saw you two looking through confidential records.

You were surprised when Herbert stopped you by putting his hand on your arm, prompting you to pause and look up. „What?“ This was his idea in the first place, why was he stopping you now? „Y/n“ you tried to flip over to the next page, catching his eyes with slight irritation. „What, we‘re almost..“ „Y/n you’re bleeding.“ Oh.

You threw your head around to see the blood stain that formed on the back of your pants, and it was hard to tell for you if that made you go even paler than you already were today or blush with the vast embarrassment that this caused you.

This was even more embarrassing than if he had found a Tampon or something. Should you move? Quit your job? You seriously considered it while your eyes searched for a bathroom in sight, you needed to get away as quickly as possible before even more people saw it- „Um, I‘ll be back!“ you dropped the files on the counter and swiftly went for the bathroom before Herbert could say anything else.

You found the bathroom empty, thankfully, and hid in a stall to dispose of the tissues you bled through. Even if you had the time and secrecy to just go scrub the stain in the bathroom sink and wait for it to dry, blood was way harder to get off than the coffee you had repeatedly spilled over your shirt until you had approximately more of it soaking through your clothes than was left in the cup when you arrived at Dr. Hill‘s office. Which certainly is not based in a real example. At all.

You considered your options. Should you just go home and call in sick from there? No, it would be weird to not tell anyone in person that you were going home, people already saw you..

Someone cleared their throat and you froze- did someone see you come in??

„If you are.. composed right now you should open the door for a moment.“

Herbert?!? Why the heck did he follow you in? Gods if he wanted to discuss this right now- he was oblivious to personal details sometimes but he wasn’t stupid. And also a med student.

„Um, I think I need to go home early today. We can continue with the files tomorrow.“ You said, hoping he took it as a sign to not talk about the river styx situation in your pants right now.

„That’s not it, open the door and I‘ll go.“

You complied, slowly opening the stall. Herbert looked back to see if anybody was coming before handing you.. a bunch of stuff. „That should suffice, just put your pants in the plastic bag after.“ And with that he really did just.. leave, without further explanation. You looked after him and retreated back into the stall to find.. a blue pair of scrub pants and both pads and tampons stuffed into a plastic bag. He didn’t know what you preferred so he just got both.

He.. your tense expression softened, a surprised smile setting on your face. Of all people you didn’t expect Herbert to be doing this for you, and he didn’t even seem awkward or disturbed by it. Stern as always.

You changed into the new pants, took care of the rest and put the plastic bag with your stained pants in your locker to pick up after work.

Herbert had a way of flickering his gaze around in a sharp, acute way as he was always somewhat alert. Yet when you came back out and found him leaning against a wall with his arms crossed he looked at you, and softly lowered his gaze before looking back up to meet your eyes. Maybe you imagined it to look assuring, but it surely felt that way to you. „Thank you.“ He simply nodded, and you went back to look at files without him even mentioning it again.

Dr Hill likely assumed you two to be a couple and that brought you both peace and stress in a way, because now he wasn’t relentlessly flirting with you anymore and actually let you do your job. But if anything about how you did your job stood out to him he would find a reason to scold you about it. If he couldn’t have you he likely just put you and Herbert on the same list with people to put in this creepy cell with one way see through glass that he had bordering on his office if he gets the chance.

Now he was onto you as well when you returned to work, taking just a second too long to act the way you should when he came up to you in long, malignant slides promising trouble. He consciously ignored Herbert.

„Do you need someone to instruct you on your own job now? You are wasting the budget of this hospital by slacking off like that.“ He huffed, making you freeze by the sudden accusations he threw your way for the simple act of pausing for a moment. „And now you can’t even respond? Are you always this incompetent or just on your period?“ Some by standing staff quietly looked on as Dr Hill didn’t even bother lowering his voice, in fact he seemed to be pleased with this act of public humiliation. Your face turned red, what the hell was wrong with him?!?

„What an excellent example of the alarming parallels between toddlers and people of old age, Dr Hill. You really do act just like a squeamish kid rather than someone who should know better about Medicine by now.“ Herbert chimed in, approaching you two to stand beside you with his hands buried in the pockets of his coat.

„So brain death isn’t the only topic you are lacking in I see. Now, what body function can we attribute your incompetence to then if this is the logic we go by now?“ He took a step closer to him, and he really did not care for the height difference because if Dr Hill were to even lay a finger on him he would prove his intellectual inferiority in front of everyone looking. He was just staring him down as the older man was practically fuming.

„It will be a pleasure to fail you, both of you!!“ He yelled, throwing you a furious glance before turning around, „Stop wasting my time, I‘m having dinner with the Dean and I‘m sure we‘ll have lots to discuss.“ With that he left with this vague threat hanging in the air, leaving you two and the other staff who each now stopped staring after a few moments and returning to work.

You were quiet for a moment, both you and Herbert. Did he.. did he defend you there? Or was it just him trying to one up the man he so very openly despised? You looked at him now, trying to read in the ever lasting frown on his features why he did it. Why this was the second time he had came in to help you out of a highly uncomfortable situation.

He didn’t let anything on. Only later when you were both home you couldn’t bear to leave it unsaid anymore, despite the embarrassment that came from bringing up the topic. „So today um.. you really helped me. Twice.“ He shot you a glance from the kitchen, it was the first time you ever saw him use it. „Yes.“ He answered factually, somehow that made you smile a bit. You stared at the back of his head for a moment. „Thank you.“ He nodded without really turning around and let out a hum. „Why did you do it?“

That made him pause in his movements for a moment, he then turned down the stove. You saw his shoulder blades moving through the fabric of his dress shirt. He moved around some more before returning to the living room with two plates with some simple pasta.

He took a seat and handed you one of the plates, impaling some noodles with his fork.

„First, we are Reanimating the dead in your basement Y/n, I have seen worse than a little blood. Bodies are complex organic mechanisms, everything makes sense and comes together in perfect order. The only thing I defy about it is Death.“ He looked at you intensely, it seemed as if he were hesitating to say what he intended to next. Herbert scratched his neck and looked away for a moment.

„You did not leave when I was in withdrawal. This state isn’t any more pleasing to witness than it is to go through it. Well,“ he pressed his lips together. He was well versed to argue from a logical standpoint, but this now wasn’t a position he really found himself in often nor voluntarily. You understood it, though, and he found you smiling at him. „I see.. Thank you, again.“ He reciprocated your look and then turned his attention towards his food again.

He was glad that you knew what he meant. You often seemed to do so, even when he was rambling or pacing like a madman, and you understood him now too. It was.. nice.

[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. 

[jungle-angel]

Menaces to Society (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You thought your boys were feral as children......wait until they turn twenty one

Warnings: Perry slander, Tillerson slander, taking a leak on somebody’s truck for revenge, drunken shenanigans etc. 

Tagging: @sebsxphia @lewmagoo @bradleybeachbabe @nobody7102 @creativitybeware​ @rhettabbotts​

The group of boys had all gathered at the Handsome Gambler, crowding around the bar as their favorite music blasted from the jukebox in the corner. After weeks spent on midterms and constant studying, the boys of the Delta Tau Epsilon Fraternity were more than happy to be blowing of steam, among them, Tatum and Tanner Abbott and Colt Tillerson. 

“CHUG IT!!!! CHUG IT!!!! CHUG IT!!!” the boys chanted as they lifted Tanner up by his legs for the kegstand challenge.

Tanner took in as much as he could, the bar owner timing him as his frat brothers cheered him on. Finally, he swallowed the last little bit before Jimmy Peterson, the bar owner, clocked him in and put his time record up on the chalkboard. 

“You my man,” Tate Dutton said, clapping a hand on Tanner’s shoulder. “Are the fucking kegstand CHAMP!” 

Tanner and the other frat brothers cheered loudly as Bo Andreola, one of the football players, lifted him up onto his broad, husky shoulders. Around 1:30, Jimmy announced it was closing time, only to be cued by the playing of Luke Bryan’s “Time To Take My Drunk Ass Home”, the boys and all the bar patrons singing along like a bunch of screeching seagulls. 

Out of the bar they stumbled, Tatum, Tanner, Colt, Tate and Jake Dutton, Joey Wheeler and a few others heading to the parking lot. “Alright fuckers,” Tatum slurred. “Let’s get us home, I’m drivin.” 

“Uh the fuck you are!” Danny Gonzales told him. “You’re drunker’n I am. I’ll call my brother.” 

Danny luckily had his brother, Antonio, on speed dial. Antonio never really drank and thus had become the designated driver along with three others. Unfortunately for them, Antonio was across town and wouldn’t be able to pick them up for at least a half hour. 

They wandered up and down the streets, looking for a place to wait it out, when they spied two familiar vehicles parked on the curb. “Oh shit,” Tatum muttered after letting out a rather rude burp. 

“Wassup?” Joey asked him. 

“You know who’s trucks those are, right?” 

“Aw shit,” Joey answered when he came to the realization. “That’s Trevor and Perry’s trucks.” 

“What are those fuckin assholes doin in our neck of the woods?” Jake questioned. 

“Probably doin each other in an alley somewhere,” Tate chuckled. 

Tatum and Tanner gave each other a look as soon as an evil little germ of a thought began to bloom in the back of their heads. Even Colt could tell what they were thinking without even saying a word. “You know what we gotta do right?” Tatum said. 

“Better do it now while we’re loaded,” Tanner told him. 

Tatum readily instructed for him, Tanner and Colt to take Trevor’s truck while the others could have at Perry’s. “Alright boys,” Tatum announced. “This one’s for Dad.” 

All at once the boys unzipped their flies and relieved themselves right there on the horrible men’s dirt spattered trucks, laughing the whole entire time. Too bad Jaime’s car hadn’t been nearby. Tate, Jake and Joey would have absolutely loved the thought of taking that one on as well. Bo and Danny held up their phones, taking a video of the drunken frat boys for later. It wasn’t long either before they were taking photos of their little graffitied creation, the words “Fuck you Perry” and “Fuck you Trevor” having been inscribed in the dirt with their own streams while the boys pointed at it and made stupid faces or stupid poses with it. 

The sudden blurt of police sirens and the flash of lights made them all straighten right up. Sheriff Joy hopped out onto the curb and shut the doors to the cruiser, sighing and laughing all at once when she saw the culprits. 

“Oh God, not you idiots again,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“HEY AUNT JOY!!!!!!” Tatum and Tanner greeted loudly and happily. 

**************

“Rhett can you get the door?!” you called from upstairs. 

Rhett groaned and rose from the couch, straightening his reader glasses on his nose before making his way to the door. When he opened it, he was a little less than pleased to find Joy on the porch.

“Hey Rhett,” she greeted. “I just picked up your little miscreants outside the bar and came to drop them off.” 

“Oh God, what’d they do now?” Rhett groaned. 

“Check their phones, I guarantee you there’s photos,” Joy laughed before heading back to the cruiser. 

“Oh damnit,” Rhett muttered. “Darlin, ya’ll better come down here, it happened again!” 

***************

The boys were absolutely silent as Rhett scrolled through Tatum’s phone and his camera roll, his face contorting into confused and wide-eyed expressions every so often. 

“So let me get this straight,” Rhett said, breaking the long, pregnant pause that had come over the kitchen. “You idiots were loaded beyond all human reasoning, were waiting for a ride home and decided to take a leak on a vehicle?” 

Tatum burped again. “Yep.” 

Rhett bit his lip, trying hard not to laugh, looking at you as if you’d break first. “Alright, you jackasses go upstairs and make yourselves cozy, I’ll discuss this with your mother.” 

The boys all stumbled up the stairs, trying their best not to wake Amy and Jeff’s baby who had just fallen asleep in yours and Rhett’s room. “Are they in trouble?” you asked him. 

“I’ll be nice and let’em off the hook this time,” Rhett chuckled. “Tomorrow when they’re all hungover is a completely different story.” 

[batmanlovesnirvana]

— FROM “Before the Batman: an Original Movie Novel (The Batman 2022)”.

written by David Lewman’s

AN : ‼️‼️ THIS IS NOT MY WORK. It’s a prequel original movie novel written by David Lewsman’s and it is canon to the film. It also includes an exciting original story of Bruce Wayne's early adventures on his way to becoming The Batman.

All rights go the creators and Warners Bros !

00 — Prologue.

Bruce felt strange being back in the old house.

He and his parents had lived in the mansion, Wayne Manor, until he was six years old. Then they’d donated their sprawling home to Gotham City to serve as an orphanage and moved into their current residence, Wayne Tower.

Now he was ten years old, and his father, Thomas Wayne, was running for mayor. His dad had decided to announce his candidacy at the orphanage. So Bruce and his parents had returned to their former home for a visit.

As they climbed the grand staircase to the second floor, Bruce remembered playing on the stairs. He saw the door to a closet and recalled crouching behind the hanging coats for a game of hide-and-seek, waiting for his mother to find him, laughing. It was a big house, full of great places to hide. Even though he liked their new home in Wayne Tower, Bruce realized he missed the old house. He’d been happy there. Seeing it again, he felt a kind of ache.

Upstairs, in what had once been a ballroom, the orphanage’s choir stood on risers, singing a medley of patriotic songs. The Waynes had called the long hall “the party room,” only using it when they entertained large numbers of guests. But when it was empty, Bruce had played in the big room, rolling toy race cars across the gleaming wooden floor all by himself. The floor didn’t seem as shiny now as it had then, when it reflected the light from the sparkling chandeliers hanging overhead. Bruce glanced up. The chandeliers had been replaced with sturdier, more practical light fixtures. They were a little dusty.

TV cameras were set up to capture his father’s announcement for the evening news. Reporters from newspapers and magazines waited with recorders and notepads. Photographers snapped pictures. Thomas Wayne’s campaign manager handed out copies of his remarks. Orphanage staff members looked around nervously, hoping everything would go smoothly. The residents had been warned repeatedly to be on their very best behavior.

The medley came to an end. The woman conducting the choir turned toward the cameras and smiled. There was scattered applause from the small group gathered for the candidate’s announcement. The reporters weren’t sure how to react to the music. They’d come for a news event, not a concert.

Now that the orphans had stopped watching their conductor, Bruce felt as though they were all staring at him. There’s the rich kid who used to live here, they were probably all thinking. The billionaire’s son. Bruce wanted to look away, stare at the floor. But he knew his parents were counting on him to make a good impression, so he looked back at the kids in the choir. They’re weren’t all looking at him, too excited by the TV cameras and photographers to care that much about a ten-year-old kid in an expensive suit.

Except for one boy.

He was scrawny, with aviator-style wire-rimmed glasses. His clothes seemed a little too big. They were hand-me-downs he hadn’t grown into yet. And he was looking straight at Bruce. Why is he staring at me? Bruce thought. Do I look weird or something? He wished the kid would look away. But then he felt sorry for the guy, living in an orphanage without any parents. Even though he didn’t really feel like smiling, Bruce forced himself to give the kid a friendly smile.

The kid continued to stare. He didn’t smile back. 

Should I post other parts ? Lmtk.

[gumballavocadoharry]

Estrangement (Future follow up) {Conclusion}:

My legs pressed together, fiddling with the little tract in my hands while engaging on every word of the eulogy being delivered by Kristopher. His words: fabricated with mawkishness to fit the public persona of who Dad portrayed himself to be. Maybe it was the element of melancholy that hastened through the room, that had stricken a slash of grief to trickle down my face.

Sandwiched between Angus and Matthew- who looked up at me to explain why so many people were crying. Victoria and Joshua also wondered the same thing: who was this man? And why was he so important? I pinched a small smile together through my little tears. I looked to Angus who held this straight controlled face. A reef which circled my father's face in the middle. Kristopher stepped down leading to a barrage of claps. Mom and Kimberly sat next to each other, holding hands with one of Kim's hands while the other stayed laced with her husband's Pete's. Piper looked around the room, making eye contact with my children several times. Mom's glances were steady between my family and the platform of the small stage. 

Kylie would sometimes give reassuring shoulder squeezes from behind me and Kira and Kameron partnered together in their seats only a few spaces from ours. Around us was the bog of professor friends and colleagues from the schools Dad taught at. Then the other half were the upscale friends of Mom and Dad: The Wint's, The Collymore's, The Verlice's and The Huxley's. All splattered together into this clique of families who wanted nothing but the best. I faintly remembered the Verlice's- they would come to the local country club and have friendly competitions with Mom and Dad. Mr. Verlice and Dad were fanatics with betting which one of their children would make the mark at the most prestigious universities they could think of. Mr. Verlice's son, Dalton had one over Kimberly when it came to his football against Kimberly's tennis records.

I remember Dalton's particular liking towards Kimberly; his blonde bangs swaying neatly over his eyes and the clean-cut presentation of himself made Dad and Mr. Verlice believe they could be another version of Mom and Dad. But Kim wasn't as interested in Dalton as she appeared.... I guess I wouldn't either if I found out his attraction was of someone of... his body type. Rumors spread all over once Dalton made his way around the college. Names of different guys popped all over, making Mr. Verlice into this hermit. He couldn't muster himself to call Dad or anyone else. He faded away, almost completely out of the earth until now, here at Dad's funereal. I made eye contact with him twice only to be rebuffed silently and glanced over with no expression- no smile... nothing.

After the funereal, we were all to attend the burial of Dad before the wake. The pallbearers held the long timber casket above them, marching to silent rhythm. The casket finally being set down onto the platform that would officially bury him underneath. The pastor preached occasionally glancing up from his bible to the ones who could stare at him while looking back to the casket. My bottom lip stayed bitten the whole time; untucking it only once I realized that there was a pinching pressure that was beginning. It seemed like all eyes were on my children- Mom not able to take her gaze off of the three even for a second. Three grandchildren she knew nothing about and who nothing about her either. Victoria, holding my hand closely, must've reminded mom of myself at that age. Quiet, curious, unsure of what to happen next. The casket was pulled into the ground; swallowed up by the core of the earth it seemed, leaving only this nadir shell of existence from Dad. 

Everyone faded slowly from their spots in front of the grave, disappearing into their cars. A westside community center that was specially reserved for Dad's wake was full of parked spaces. Angus circled around until we found this nicely hidden spot by a flurry tree that liked to sway its branches into the tips of the afternoon air. "Stay by Mommy and Daddy." I had bent down, gathering my children around me and instructing them. I ushered the children to a table where Angus volunteered to watch it, while the children and I gathered our plates at the buffet that was sprawled across the vary of tables. In the corner of my eye- Kimberly and Pete were chatting with Mom and Kristopher. Piper and Joshua locked eyes, exchanging smiles before she came over to us after unraveling her grip from Kimberly's hand. "What's your name?" 

"Joshua, but you can call me Josh- everyone else does.." "I'm Piper," the sweet girl stuck her hand out; Joshua shaking it while gathering a few more wings onto his plate. "Piper!" Kimberly's yell made me glance over in their direction. I gave a quick smile before gathering my children back to their father. Even Mom couldn't shake my hawk like protective watch from my kids. "It was nice to meet you, Piper. I'm Katlin, by the way." The little girl smiled, showcasing her piercing dimples just like her mother's. Piper was asked to come back to her mother- running off back to Kimberly who gave me a content look of thankfulness. Mom's eyes glanced between Kim and me- eyeing me, then my children, then Angus who was hugged at the table guarding it like a third world country would swoop by and snag him with it. I guided our way back to the table, where Angus was able to grab his food the counter.

Silence. Nothing but utter silence sat with us at the table while we ate our lunch. It felt like all eyes were on me even when my own bored into the empty plate in front of me. Scratching it with the nip of my fork which miffed Angus. "Kids, why don't you go and play with the other children?" His smile- fatherly and meek. Matthew guided his younger siblings with him out to the yard where Kim's daughter among the other little cousins and grandchildren of whomever were. Kylie seized the opportunity- taking a seat with us at the table. My eyes scanned her blueish aqua ones, wanting to know what was up her sleeve and what she possibly might've witnessed. After biting my lips; licking them thinly, I needed to say something- ask something, a question- anything that seemed to be gnawing at the panel of my brain. "How's mom?" I raised my eyebrow, shooting my glance down at the paper like table cloth. 

"Grieving..... Nana Anne and Grandpa Des are talking to her right now...." I looked over to see mom huddled in a corner, family rushing in and out consoling her. Flattening my lips, I turned back to Kylie, "I know- it all happened so fast..... how is she adjusting to everything else?...." I glanced towards outside where the kids where running around after a soccer ball- Kam's idea.

"Well..... it hit her all at once and.... she's.... really..." Kylie shot a quick glance towards Mom, "frozen." I bit my lip. I knew Kylie meant "offended" rather than a simple little nick of a description that couldn't even comprehend the concussion of turmoil that shattered her that night at the hospital once she realized four perfect secrets that were so neatly hidden from her and dad. Stalking heel clicks chirped loudly until I felt a heated shadowy mien around me. "Hey girls," Mom's voice, peddled through our table. Taking a seat in between me and Kylie, scanning us for what we were so tightly keeping between our glances. She cleared her throat before looking towards the outside where the flock of children played. She turned her look back to me and tattered on a smile, "How are the children holding up?" I stiffened up straighter and taller in my chair, "Well. They're doing well..." Mom shifted her lips towards one corner of her mouth. "So, Mom, how are doing?" 

"Oh, I'm steady right now.... I guess it just took everyone by surprise," Kira came over and took the last remaining chair at our table. "Hey sweetie," Kira smiled tacitly. "Tomorrow- I have to clean out the house of your father's things.... if you all want to come to see if there's anything that you may want for yourselves... I wouldn't mind." Silence slithered through the table once again. Mom's eyes seemed to stare through everyone- through the glass of their eyes and somehow into their thoughts that fumbled like bricks in their brain. Her eyes then shifted to me, attempting to bore into me like she would do when I was a child, except with this angry repelling stare. A look that now etched across her face in my mind- tempting to continue the stare showdown while also trying to mentally pull and shield myself from. I quickly jerked my expression to become stoic and stone like; her face flailing and shedding her desperate stares in between my sisters and me.  "Do Kam, Kris and Kim know?" Mom nodded, keeping her stare on me. "I'll come," Kira piped. I gave her a smile. Kylie gave a quiet smile and nod and soon all eyes turned to me again.

Mom's fingers etched towards my the fist of my right hand that were firmly on my lap. Yanking it to my face, clearing my throat and turning to mom; brashly with underlined emotion. "I'll see if I can stop by..."

"Will-" I raised an eyebrow. Mom gathered herself into my eyeline, "Will you bring the children?" I raised my eyebrows swiftly before glancing to Kira, then Kylie, then Angus, who I exchanged looks with longer. "Well.... Matthew and Joshua have school and Victoria has preschool." Mom's eyes became glossy- shifting around to stunt the peering tears. I gave her a small hand to shoulder touch. "I'll be there." I promised. I didn't know if it was the right thing for me... but I intended to keep that promise anyway. 

Leaving the wake was symbolic for me in some pondering way. The thick cool breeze of later afternoon swept the bold strands of my hair as I trudged myself closer and closer to my car; arms wrapped around me like the hug that I didn't believe I needed, especially from myself. Angus came shadowing next to me holding Tori in one arm and holding Josh's hand in the other. Matt scooted next to me latching his hand into mine while swinging and kicking. "Bye Matthew and Josh!" I turned around to see Piper, waving her hand while Kim was holding onto the other. "Bye Tori!" The children waved bye to each other before shuttling into the backseat of the mini van. I could feel eyes boring into me; latched into this grasp that picked through my spine. Turning and seeing Mom's piercing pained look coil around the view of our car. My kids and Kim's daughter were getting along just fine like they had always been together. Like they knew each other forever- since their birth. But they were still strangers. Just friendly strangers to this quicksand of chaos that their little minds couldn't yet entice.

Bitting the corner of my lip before plopping into the passenger's side and pulling out of the parking lot and then peeling onto the corner. The ride home was less dreary than the wake, but still somber. I guess you can expect that after a funeral but with everything that went on outside of Dad's death, there was nothing but mere dysfunction. My mind quivered over the promise of what was expected of me tomorrow. Cleaning out the childhood home of nightmares where emptiness was a cool hug compared to the rigid cold atmosphere that lurked even in the darkest of corners. The walls liked to suffocate me in them- thickening the air pent up in my lungs of wanting to scream or holler anything for help. But nothing. Only dew drop rays of light pecked in with Kira sitting on my bed listening to my feverish poems that even at her age, were too mature for her to realize, or Kylie teaching me to sketch my first simple stick figure. Kristopher with his soccer and Kameron with his basketball- both teaching me the art of sports and sportsmen ship.

Kimberly and I could only be so close. In her innocent good girl eyes, they longed for more; nights where she spilled the latest gossip about her crushes and her friends and times where manicures were some of the funniest moments I've ever had. But she was the pedestal. The pedestal of golden that Mom and Dad needed for everyone else. The parting line was tradition. 

"You alright?" Angus turned to me after turning the key once we pulled into our driveway. I nodded, "Can we-" I glanced through the overhead mirror before back to Angus, "Can we... talk inside?" I loudly whispered. Once the kids were in the house and downstairs enjoying their snack, me and Angus trailed upstairs into our bedroom. I took a deep breath and looked into his mellow washed blue eyes. Shaking my head, finally opening my mouth to speak. "Mom... wanted so badly to see the kids.... was I too harsh on her?" Angus was undoing his tie in the mirror, he shook his head, "No I don't think so.... the kids do have school and besides...." He came over to the side of the bed, "You can't ever trust someone like that- there's a reason why your parents weren't invited into our family." I nodded. "At the table, I told her I'd drop by and help her sort out Dad's things.... I don't know if that was a mistake," I looked away for a brief moment like I couldn't handle Angus's intense stare.

"It's like there's this invisible dower over me because I kept my life in the shadows... especially the kids. Dad only saw them once and Mom is probably angry because she...well... she always loved the idea of having a lot of grandchildren... deep down I know she hates me for it." Angus sucked in his bottom lip. "It was their mistake, not yours. You don't owe her anything and if she misses out on the kids growing up, then so be it... she had a daughter- you, and she didn't appreciate that... so.. there it is." Angus was right, I knew he was. But somehow, I had this gut instinct that I had somehow created another hole into this platonic layer. That maybe even I was surprised with. Every promise I made to myself at sixteen, nineteen, and now was evident. There was no turning back, I had promised. I would never call, or text, or visit. I would never announce my success, my newfound happiness in literature, my engagement, my marriage, the birth of my children, how Tori was a preemie, how Josh has been tested for ADHD, how Matthew had a lisp at one point, or how our suburban neighborhood was way more upscale than what they had imagined for us.

Nothing. Every milestone, every piece of life that I grabbed at the fringes and hugged together to shape who I wanted to become was nothing but exotic. 

For the first time in my life- my family saw me make a life standing commitment. Even I surprised myself with my endurance and how forgotten they had become once I fully threw it all behind me. Mom knew I was serious when I said 'goodbye' the last time I walked out of that house... and that's what it meant through all these years. Goodbye.

It was eleven in the morning when I arrived. The air had softened leaving behind a gentle glow of warmth from the sun. Listening the tatter sounds of my jeans rubbing against my legs was humming beat the further I strolled through the front door pathway to the porch. Kim's car was lined first, then Kam and Kris's on the street, Kira's was second parked in the driveway and Kylie's stood only a little behind mine further down the road, but not too far from the house.

Walking into the house, slapped me from head to toe with pinging memories. The house stood exactly the same as it did outside. Clean, crisp, fancy, elegant leaving you too stiff to touch anything. The kitchen where I read my books early in the morning while sipping tea was untouched. The dining room where isolation in the crowded room stabbed me from every corner. I wondered about my bedroom; walls still being the lavender purplish color with the white trimming. I grabbed my internal curiosity not sure if I could handle seeing the bleak room of draining graphic memories that would bring me into this unfocused despair.

Kimberly was asking Mom where she wanted some things and Kris and Kam were already bringing some things down from the attic. I glanced over to see the coffee table, stacked full of Dad's professor books. Even today, my fingers still felt wriggly to even so much as stare beyond the cover of the book. A cool shiver trickled down my spine, silvering the tip of my fingers. "Katlin," I looked up to see Mom- trailing down the stairs, eyes laser focused on me like I was this looming shadow that had somehow snuck into the house or like I had two heads and four bulging eyes that popped out from the sides of my face.  "I'm glad you're here!" I tapered my expression- not sure exactly what she meant. I scanned the living room only wanting traces of Mom through my peripheral vision. "The upstairs could use some help," I followed Mom up the stairs trying to swallow those thrusting memories of feet paddling up the same wooden steps after a fight or a Sunday drive in the country where I seemed to only fade in through one end and out the other.

Side-eyeing my empty bedroom; walls stained in a washed purple tone, dust bunnies tucked in corners neatly over to the side. The corner of my defuncted desk had this hollow echo- like nothing had changed and that the little spot was just a temporary empty that could easily be filled with something worth a replacement. Otherwise, everything in this bedroom stayed the same. Dead, but alive in some way- forever the same nineteen-year-old with big dreams and ambitions who wanted nothing more than to cast herself out of this house like a cannonball. But Mom needed me in her bedroom. She guided me into the small little office space that she would use sometimes to write checks or sort bills for Dad to see once he returned from work. She turned to me: "Katlin.... your father had these books that he would read whenever he wanted to find a formula for a lecture he would work on," She pulled out one of the books that had a particular color to it: navy blue with a washed-out silver tone to it. I reckoned it to be one of my first published books. 

"Your father had bought this one day at Barnes and Nobles and he just couldn't stop staring at it. I didn't know exactly what it was that he was interested in about it... until I saw your name." I swallowed. "It was one of the first books he's read from you, sweetie." My eyes couldn't stop examining the book. So crisp and new, like it had barely been touched. I looked further down the cover and seeing my signature- a signed copy. I blinked up to Mom again. "You want me to have it?" Tear brimmed across her eyes. She took a deep somber breath and rested her hand on her head. My eyebrows squinted wondering what exactly she wanted from me in this very moment. But maybe I already knew. "How could you? Keep this amazing secret from us all these years? Don't you think I would've deserved to know about those kids? - about how I wanted to be there for every birthday or even their births in the first place?! That was my precious moment that you so selfishly threw away all for pride.... Katlin.... was it really worth it?"

Katlin? Katlin? Katlin?

My eyes blinked awake. "Oh yes, I'm sorry," Mom sighed, "I wanted to show you that even though.... it wasn't perfect... your father did have his moments of pride..." 

"Or guilt," "What?" "I wrote that book based loosely off my experiences here... I know Dad... I know that despite everything he said about me... he still had his pride. He needed that book. He needed that book to show around to everyone like a trophy to prove he could make success and because he needed to etch out the truth behind these words. He was always one to hide behind his own image... if he did read it... then.... that's what it would be for." Bitting my tongue, not believing for a minute how much I said in so little words. Mom seemed to fade into my eyes. 

"Whatever you have to say.... say it. Dad's gone... you know... everything that went on in this house... don't believe for one second that you couldn't understand what was coming. I was persistent in my achievements... you knew I had everything I needed to walk away." Tears trickled through the creased cheeks of Mom. Her eyes become blurry to me maybe from my own wallows. "I-I," She dropped. Box slamming and spilling out all the books to sprawl across the floor. "I'm sorry.... I'm so sorry!" Sniffling and whimpering like a scared little child, "I don't know.... I don't know why I did it... I-" Heaving breaths took control. I crotched down to Mom's level and just looked into her wet eyes. She grabbed my shoulders, "Katlin... I was a bad mother- I won't deny it. I can't change what happened and.... that does beat me up every day. But I can be there now... I can make the choice now-"

"For me or for Tori and Joshua and Matthew and Angus?" She nodded, "For all of you." I shook my head, "But you're my mother. Tell me- is it for me or for the chance to have what you don't deserve?" A crack chipped in her voice, "Both."  I shook my head, biting my lip. "You can't... you can't take either one.... I can't let you take either one."  Mom stared at me with gasping eyes of bleeding pleads. Not being able to attach herself to something she didn't own ate into her like a core of an apple. Dying with grief- standing to her own feet again, this time with an unforgiving blanched look of hopeless. "I can't lose you Katlin..." Her voice frayed and demised. I turned to her- shooting an up and down look, "You didn't lose me.... we just simply never existed."

The clicks of my boots were the only echos that were traced through the downstairs. All eyes were met with me; up and down looks swimming around me in the same tone I used with Mom. They knew. I didn't know if they were listening or if my voice was loud or if some fiber in their being could just sense this engrossing feeling of tension that was introduced in this same living room from the time our eyes met just pounded through them like a loud heartbeat. "Katlin..." Kira's little voice seemed to me like the same one I would hear as a teenager when she would curl up into my bed and watch me flicker through my book of poems. I shook my head, flaring it off with my hand. "What happened?" Kim spoke. "Mom.... well... she wanted me to help with some of Dad's old books and I guess I assumed that she wanted me to keep some of them,"

I took a deep breath, "But, instead she showed me that he had bought one of my first books and kept it, which led to her asking me about..." I finally met eyes with everyone. "I don't know... maybe since she's grieving- it.... that must be it." Kylie arched an eyebrow. Somehow without ushering me physically, I sat down across from her. She took a deep breath and looked to Kimberly. Then eventually we all did. Kim had her gaze solid on her lap, scratching the fabric of her jeans. Licking her lips, she finally met everyone's gaze. Their leader. My answers were led with Kimberly. "Growing up.... Mom and Dad- as you all know- had conditions. And being the firstborn of their children, they needed compile a bunch of expectations to me for success,"

"I was perfect in their eyes. I played tennis, I got excellent grades, went to the best college, dated the most promising guy of approval and did everything their way. But it didn't mean anything... my life was never my own- only an object of Mom and Dad," Tears welled in her eyes leading to sniffles and red washed eyes, "I always wanted to just be normal- go crazy and become a tennis player of my own sort. And I tried so hard to bond with you Katlin- to apart of your world because... it was so fascinating. It brought life into everything... but I couldn't.... they wouldn't let me. You were born and they of course sculpted this image of everything you were supposed to be to them... but you weren't. You rebelled- forged your hobby of writing and grew into this amazing artistic person who I could only dream of becoming. Refusing to walk the parting line, Mom and Dad abused you- keeping me and everyone else at this distance from you because they hated your strength. Standing up for yourself in this family with these types of parents was the strongest thing I've seen and they hated it. Hated you for it. But we loved you. Anytime I spent with you encouraged me to just try to break out for the sake of who I was and become the actual Kimberly that I kept hidden... but I couldn't. Of course I wasn't forced to do any of this... but... you know how they are." Kimberly set her gaze against the leg of couch.

"Today... I love Piper... but I'm married to success, became success and became everything I was programmed to be and nothing else. Nothing more, nothing less." A scorn left her throat. But a weight had hefted from her presence.

Kylie finished where Kim left off. "We all had our hobbies: my painting, the twin's sports, Kira's poems... but none of those things would've mattered if Mom and Dad's pleasures weren't first. At the start of middle school- pretending to like astrology and 'study' it was the only way an art wall could be planted in my room."

"I know, I had to pretend to study medicine which became a part of my fate today," Said Kris. "Mathematics for me," Kam chimed, "I got the best job of following in Dad's footsteps of being the most prestigious professor in the country!" Kim sarcastically said.

Kira was now the focus. She took a deep breath and spoke. "Science," She bit her lip, "They knew how close we were...." A heavy breath cave in through Kira's little voice, "They were really hard on me- maybe not in the same way, but I guess they were trying to find a replacement for the prodigal daughter." Tears became my vision. My poor youngest sister suffered for love. Everyone did. "Katlin... you will always be the brightest one in this family... you stayed true to yourself and walked away to something better. We followed after you," Another heavy breath shifted, "I wish I had the guts you did. I'll never forget the day you moved out... we couldn't bare to see you leave, but saying goodbye was defining. The war was over for you and you never looked back."

"We're so proud of you, Katlin... don't ever let Mom say otherwise." Kim tussled me into a hug, soaking her damp face in my hair. Kris's eyes held tears. "You're not a black sheep to us... you're an angel." He clanged behind me, then Kam, then Kylie, then Kira. Finally breaking and sobbing into this warmth of my siblings that I didn't have to hide from anymore. Sniffles spread through the room. Mom skirted halfway down the stairs, stopping and just eyeing everyone piled into the group hug. Her looking with the same shadow of distance that I bestowed me at ten, then thirteen, fifthteen, nineteen and twenty. 

Not anymore. Not ever again could I separate myself the truth that hid behind the mask of dysfunction.

Six-o-clock rolled around. The house was cleared, empty and lifeless. Quick parting routine hugs and kisses were bestowed upon Mom, but nothing more. "Thank you all so much for helping me..." Her voice emitting pitiful mourns. "I love you all so much." The room was silent and dark until we silently agreed to bush her with the same the words: "Love you too."

Leaving with new contacts in my phone was the best feeling. Even more than the cool spring breeze of the evening. "Will Mom be okay?" Kira whispered, "Of course, she's got Dad's survivor benefits." Kam shot back. Not at Kira exactly, but at Mom. I looked back to see her staring through the doorway of the now lifeless broken house that she had so blissfully inherited. Fumbling my pocket for the car keys, Kim came up and hugged me tightly. "You still inspire me Kate...." pulling away and looking into my eyes, "Don't forget that." A sweet smile sprouted through her face. "I won't." I managed to say. Kam's car honked as he drove by before turning the corner. Soon everyone's car but mine had pulled away into the night. I took one last look at the house and Mom before pulling out and driving away.

A fresh breath finally choked out. Happy tears drizzled and new chapters arose. Closure found me, wrapped in it's arms and spoke in my face to say: "I'm Katlin Styles."

And I was. To my very own self. Finally turning the corner and pulling into my home where the house probably smelled of delivery fresh pizza, cookies, paint and whatever else Angus had set out for the kids. Sitting in the driveway and taking in the essence of my messy perfectness was everything I ever needed.

More so, everything I ever wanted. Something to my life, my future and myself.

Yes. My very own Katlin Styles. 

Taking a deep breath, locking the car door and finally stepping inside the house. Angus looked at me, seeing the awe that maybe didn't exist until now. "You okay?" His voice, mellow and soft.

I smiled, scanning the house for everything- the kids, the dirty laundry that seemed to overflow in the hamper, the two open pizza boxes that one of them carried still a full a pizza in and the flickering Tv. Looking back to Angus- smiling loudly and hopeful.

"I'm fine," I nodded, still smiling, 

"I'm fine."

So this is the final chapter of the Estrangement series!!! I hope you enjoyed this series and I hope that it touched you in more ways possible!!!

[mimisempai]

At their own pace

Summary

The words had been said and Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship had taken a new turn. An unknown turn. Unknown to both of them.

Both uncertain, they seek advice from their new friends, Maggie and Nina.

Notes

Happens just after my fix-it for episode 6. Can be read separately even if there is mention of it.

On Ao3

Rating G -  1702 words

Crowley parked the Bentley in front of Aziraphale's shop. He didn't get out right away. 

Today was different.

He was even a little nervous, if he was honest with himself. 

Aziraphale and him.

Since yesterday.

Everything had changed.

That was huge.

He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel.

“I want to do all the things that I don't know yet that people do when they're together and I want it to be the most natural thing in the world.” 

Aziraphale had told him. But he hadn't realized that Crowley knew little more than he did about what people did when they were together. 

Okay, there was no point in stalling.

He got out of the car and entered the shop, calling, "Angel, I'm here!"

No answer. 

He walked over to where he always left his glasses, and his eyes fell on a small piece of paper lying next to the horse sculpture. He picked it up and recognized Aziraphale's handwriting.

I went to see Maggie. I'll be right back. 

Aziraphale. 

Crowley sighed and was about to settle into the chair when his eyes fell on Nina's coffee shop across the street. Coffee wasn't going to calm the kind of nervousness he was feeling, but at least her coffee was good.

Moments later, he walked through the door of the coffee shop and up to the counter. 

"Oh, hello, Mr. Grumpy."

Crowley raised an eyebrow and looked at Nina, "Excuse me?"

Nina started to pour an espresso and replied, "Muriel gave you that nickname.  I think I'll keep calling you that."

Crowley muttered, "That little..."

Nina chuckled and replied, "How many shots of espresso today?"

"Just one and..." he looked around and, avoiding Nina's gaze, asked airily, "Do you have Eccles cake today?"

Nina replied, "How many will Mr. Fell have?"

"Four." Then, realizing he'd been so easily tricked, he decided not to react.

Nina wrapped the four cakes and placed them next to the espresso on the counter in front of Crowley.

Crowley was about to pay her, but she shook her head, "It's on the house. Even though you're basically a little responsible, you both still fought for all of us, so it's a little thank you."

Crowley nodded and was about to grab the cup and cakes when Nina's hand came to rest on his arm and stopped him.

She said quietly, "I guess you talked to him," she nodded in the direction of Maggie's shop across the street. Crowley turned to see his angel chatting animatedly with the blonde woman.

Without turning, he replied, "You could say that. We're not very good at it, but we got there. Except I have no idea what I'm doing."

Nina replied gently, "As far as I know, you're not pressed for time, are you? Give yourself some time."

He turned to the woman pushing the wrapped cakes toward him, "And that's a good start. Trust me."

Crowley nodded and this time grabbed the cakes and coffee. 

Nina asked him again before letting him go, "And how is he?"

Crowley replied, "I don't really know. Yesterday was intense, we both needed some time to think."

He started for the door and Nina said, "Keep talking and you'll be fine."

Crowley stepped through the door and prepared to cross the street.

**********

"Mr. Fell, what can I do for you? What mysterious song are you going to ask me about?"

Aziraphale approached the counter and said gently, "I think after yesterday's events you can call me Aziraphale. And..."

He paused a little awkwardly before continuing, "I don't need a record, I need some advice."

Maggie leaned against her counter and said softly, "I'm listening."

Aziraphale replied, "Here... uh, you, last time you mentioned that you were well, you know, in love. And today I know what that's like and..."

Maggie exclaimed, "Oh! Mr. Grumpy has finally decided to speak to you?!"

Aziraphale chuckled, "Mr. Grumpy, he's not going to like that," then the angel realized what Maggie had said and exclaimed, "Wait! Why do you say he's finally decided to speak to me?"

Maggie replied softly, "Nina and I wanted to see you both yesterday, but it was just Crowley at the bookshop. We were going to give you a hard time at first for messing with our love life, but it turned into something positive, so we kind of wanted you to have the same chance we had. For you and Crowley to finally talk for real. We told Mr. Grumpy that you needed to talk. That he needed to talk to you. Because it was clear from the outside that..."

Aziraphale muttered, "It was clear, but I didn't see it."

Maggie said gently, "Mr. F- Aziraphale, we rarely see what is right in front of us."

Aziraphale nodded and continued, "Yes. Good. So, actually, I... I don't know what to do after that."

Maggie raised an eyebrow, "After... what?"

Aziraphale blushed slightly and replied, "After... talking?"

Maggie looked confused, then surprised, and finally asked in a low voice, "Is this your first time? He is your first... love?"

Aziraphale, unable to speak, nodded several times.

The blonde woman smiled and said sheepishly, "I'm not necessarily the best person to ask, but..."

She turned her head toward the window before continuing, "I think you should ask him." 

Aziraphale turned to see Crowley with a bundle in his hands and a cup of coffee.

Maggie whispered in the angel's ear again, "Do as we suggested. Talk to him. And take your time. There's no rush. Look, I love Nina and I'm willing to wait until she's ready, and I think Crowley's that kind of person, too."

Crowley leaned against the door and greeted Maggie, "Any news on Freddy's side?" Maggie shook her head, and Crowley continued, "Velvet?"

Maggie replied, "I asked my contact, but he hasn't called me back yet."

Then he turned his head to Aziraphale and said, pointing to the bundle, "May I tempt you to a little snack at the shop, angel?"

He was rewarded with a broad smile from the angel, who waved to Maggie before moving toward him.

Then Aziraphale asked him, "What did you buy with your coffee?"

Crowley replied, "Some Eccles cakes."

"Oh, that's so nice!"

Crowley grumbled, "I'm not..."

Aziraphale cut him off with a nudge on the shoulder, "We both know you are. So let it go."

Crowley grumbled as Aziraphale opened the shop door for him before closing it behind them.

Crowley had already walked over to the sofa and placed the cakes and his coffee on the desk next to it before throwing over his shoulder, "Tea, angel?"

Aziraphale joined him and replied, "With pleasure, my dear."

Crowley went into the back room and started making tea, and Aziraphale watched him for a few moments in silence before sitting down on the sofa. He felt a little strange and didn't know how to act. So when he heard Crowley rummaging around in the back room, he decided to join him. The demon had his back to him, waiting for the water to finish boiling, when he entered.

Aziraphale raised his hand and held it out, pulling it back just as Crowley turned, probably aware of his presence. 

"Angel?"

He looked at the angel's hand, which seemed to hang in the air.

Perceptively, he said softly, "Not so easy, is it?"

Aziraphale, hand still in the air, asked, "What do you mean?"

Crowley raised his hand and replied softly, "You said yesterday that you wanted to do all the things you don't know that people do when they're together and that you wanted it to be the most natural thing in the world."

Aziraphale gave a sheepish little smile and nodded, "Not that easy, no."

Crowley had brought his hand up to his, and they were only a few millimeters apart.

Aziraphale closed the distance and pressed his palm against the demon's, who slid his fingers between his own as Aziraphale's instinctively closed on Crowley's. 

"Easy..." Crowley said softly, a small smile on his lips, and that was enough for Aziraphale to make the feeling of inadequacy disappear. He felt the angel's tension melt away. Crowley pulled him closer before wrapping his arms around him. Aziraphale immediately closed his arms around Crowley, regaining the feeling of comfort from the previous evening, and sighed slowly.

The demon whispered into the angel's hair, "Angel, I don't know much more than you do, you know. I'm going in blind, too. But someone told me that we had time and that we needed to talk."

He felt Aziraphale chuckle against his chest.

"What did I say that was so funny?"

The angel lifted his head and replied with an amused twinkle in his eye, "I think this someone is related to the person who gave me the same advice." He laughed this time, "To think it was us who had to work to bring them together."

Crowley chuckled as well, pleased to see the Angel loosening in his arms.

Suddenly, the kettle whistled, indicating that the water was warm enough. 

Crowley started to move away from the angel, but to his surprise, Aziraphale whispered, "Crowley, wait."

Crowley stopped and waited.

Aziraphale raised his hands and placed them on the demon's cheeks before pulling Crowley's face to his own. 

Crowley murmured, "Angel, are you s--"

Aziraphale nodded slowly before closing the distance and gently pressing his lips to Crowley's.

It was a gentle touch. Just lips and breaths connecting. A soft kiss that lasted a few seconds before they parted. Crowley immediately took the Angel's hands in his own, afraid to lose the connection.

Then he said softly, "Yeah, just like that, Angel. At your own pace."

Holding one of Aziraphale's hands in his, he used the other to turn off the hot plate under the kettle before preparing Aziraphale's tea. He grabbed the cup and, still holding the angel's hand, pulled it behind him toward the sofa.

He didn't see that Aziraphale brought his other hand to his lips, touching them delicately with his fingertips...

This time, the angel's expression was not sad, there were no tears in his eyes as his lips curved into a gentle smile.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[n1ghtcrwler]

Revival, Part One

From the records of John Matteson Dated 1 August 2028

“You look like shit,” Fox said as I walked into the office.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Have you been drinking again?”

I slumped onto the couch. “A little. It’s not what you think, I just…needed a little.”

“The fact that you need it is the problem. Now get off your ass and clean yourself up, you have a client waiting in your office.” I pointed at my office door and silently expressed my confusion. “She didn’t give me a name, but swore you’d recognize her, the poor thing. So I let her wait there.”

I grumbled and went to the bathroom, to adjust my tie and clean up my face. When I was satisfied it was as good as it was going to get for now, I went into my office. “Good morning,” I said, closing the door behind me. “What can I do fo–” I froze as she turned to face me.

“Hi, John,” Lori said.

Twenty-three years, this November. It was like a timer went off in my brain, counting from the last time I’d seen her; one I didn’t even know was running. We stared at each other for a moment that felt way too long, and then I caught my breath and hurriedly made my way to my desk.

“Matteson,” I managed to get out, before clearing my throat and trying again. “People call me Matteson.”

She looked concerned as she leaned forward. “No one did until her, John,” she whispered. “You’re not–”

“What can I do for you, Lori?”

There was a long pause, and then she sighed and leaned back into her chair. “Are you familiar with Mystics Anonymous?”

“I am. I know a guy, Benedict de Monte, works with them.”

“I’ve met him. He said you were doing well, didn’t mention the eye patch. What happened?”

“That’s…new. It also isn’t why you came.”

“We’ve run into a problem.” She started to explain her role with the group, how she had spent the last two decades helping people deal with supernatural trauma, how she went back to school and became a psychiatrist. Apparently, she had tried to help some people in this small town in Massachusetts, but came to realize that whatever was causing the trauma was still active. “We don’t have people that deal with this sort of thing. I needed outside help, and you were the most qualified person I could think of. And, you know, it’s been a while, I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to have that conversation, but thank you. I can do Massachusetts. What do you know about this thing?”

“I’m under the impression it’s some kind of nature spirit, must be angry about something. I don’t know, John. I usually only deal with these situations after someone has been through it and needs help, and they tell me what they experienced, and sometimes the type of spirit that did it matters and sometimes it doesn’t. I don’t really know how to identify spirits in the field. What are your fees?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“John, no, don’t do that.”

“I couldn’t–”

“Don’t. I’m here to hire you because of your skill set, not because I’m looking for pity.” She crossed her arms and stared me down until I threw my hands up and leaned back.

“Fine. I can head up tomorrow. Make sure Fox has the address to send your bill.”

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to check in with some people here, and I flew in. Would you be okay with waiting until Thursday, and giving me a ride up?”

“Sure. Alpha will be happy to see you.”

“You still have the same car?”

“Always.”

She laughed and stood. “Thank you, John. I’ll meet you here on Thursday.”

I walked her out, waited while she gave Fox her information, then watched the door for a little longer than I realized after it closed behind her.

“So who is that?” Fox asked.

“Lori Berman.”

“Yeah, I got that.” She held up the paper she’d just written Lori’s info on. “Who is she to you?”

“You can lose that, by the way. I’m not billing her.” I dropped onto the couch and loosened my tie as I leaned back.

“Why would you wanna do that? Matteson, what the hell is going on here? Who is that woman, really?”

“I can’t bill her. Not after…I owe her, is all. It’s complicated. Old news. Don’t worry about it.”

“Look, Matteson. It doesn’t have to be me, I get it, but you need to talk to someone. All these secrets aren’t healthy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, getting up and heading into my office. “I’ll be out of the office starting Thursday.” I heard Fox grumble something as I closed the door behind me. Probably best not to find out what.

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[citadelsanchez]

Hiiii

Can I please request a rick sanchez × fam! Detective reader oneshot?

A hot, smart and cool woman whose Beth's best friend and has a similar backstory to Rick

I've had this idea for a long time but I couldn't write it down, I also had a terrible week and I really need this

Thank you so much

Hey!! It's a bit long and it's my first official one shot so I hope I did alright! I'll take any kinda criticism though! Hope you like it x

~~~~~~~

"Are you coming sometime today y/n or do I need to just trap you in a floating f-fucking bubble, since that seems quicker?"

The older man's voice called to you, as you realized you'd fallen behind him and Beth while walking up to the door of their home. You gritted your teeth for what felt like the hundredth time today. Rick Sanchez.

You all came in and stood in the living room. "Dad, how many times must I remind you not to snap on Y/N for unnecessary reasons? She's been in my life for years now and you haven't gained a shred of respect for that." Beth retorted as she held her hand on her hip.

Rick gave you a side glance before an eye roll and crossed his own arms. "E-excuse me you know, besties and all that. She's just- she thinks she's s- ugh nevermind. The thought isn't even worth finishing," he said and popped open his flask, disappearing into another room.

Beth turned to you, sympathetically holding her hands up. "I'm sorry, aga-"

"It's okay Beth, really. I know he's just old." You give a soft smile to your closest friend.

You two met about 6 years ago, outside of St. Equis Hospital. She had come up to you outside, hair frizzled and makeup stained with tears, asking to borrow a lighter. Ironically enough, you must've looked the same, as you were a bundle of nerves. You were about to have a job interview for a veterinarian position. You both smoked and began to strike up a conversation about the job, which evolved into a close bond.

Now, however, you had fallen into a different career path altogether. Being a vet was rewarding work, but too challenging for you mentally and physically.

Always having a niche for investigating everything, it felt somewhat natural to become a private detective instead.

You found it gratifying to be able to use your intellect to the best of your ability, not to mention that you got to wear a leather jacket everywhere. It helped you play the part.

You and Beth sat down to watch your favorite show and you carried out small talk about it as you continued slipping more into your own inner monologue.

You have always felt sorry for Beth; even more so when she asked you to probe into the abnormal relationship she has with Rick- her father. It was only 2 years ago that he reappeared on the Smith's doorsteps at what he probably called his attempt at asking forgiveness.

Beth obliged happily- finally able to reconnect and receive some answers-or so she hoped. When she propositioned you, you began to take notes. You'd trail behind him in the house, observing his actions and how he interacted with the family. You'd sneak into his garage and record what you could to make your interpretations. When possible, you'd even follow behind him when he left the house. Whether it was in a regular car or his spaceship.

Thankfully you were skillful and never once caught lurking in his shadows, which surprised you. Especially when you concluded that the man was a genius like no one has ever been. You couldn't even try to grasp the complexity of most things he was involved with. He created inter-dimensional travel and a spaceship with an apparent higher IQ level than his entire family.

That second part, you wouldn't dare reveal to Beth. In fact, you didn't tell her about most of the things you actually found out. You just gave her many roundabout psychological explanations.

He'll never stop his destruction, naturally because of the curse of the most powerful brilliance in the world.

Sheer definition of a narcissist. Cares for his family immensely when you find the root of his existence.

Rick Sanchez is the most fascinating paradox you've ever encountered.

So in tune with your own life that it was uncanny. Even down to the wires of having a dead spouse. The only real difference is that you don't invent things. Well, and that you treat people just a bit nicer.

"I don't wanna miss this part but I've got to pee soo bad, I'll be right back!" You claim, as you make your way out of the living room.

You slowly slip your way down to Rick's garage, where you hear the tinkering of metal and what sounds like the sentient voice of the garage that was implemented by Rick himself.

You get to the door that's very gently cracked open and stand back to peer inside.

He's bent over the large wooden desk, one hand writing something and the other holding a device in his hand. He writes for another minute and you watch as he places the pen down and stands up. He stands frozen there for a couple of seconds, and you wonder if old age is finally starting to get the best of him.

"That thought from earlier, maybe it is worth finishing" he speaks aloud, still staring at the wall unmoving. Then, he suddenly turns around to stare directly into your eyes.

"She thinks she's so fucking stealthy" he snarled as his eyes glared harshly into yours with what seemed like a murderous rage.

"Rick, I'm sorry, I just, I-I wa-"

"Yeah? That half-assed apology took its time sweetheart. Surely if you're smart enough to study me for so long then you're smart enough to know that I would find out- immediately."

He walks toward you and you instinctively take one step back but he has other plans. He firmly grabs your shoulders. The fear must be evident in your eyes as you're shaking lightly.

"You can't tell Beth the truth, can you? That her father is a piece of shit and lacks the decency to j-j-just leave her and her peaceful little run down f-fucking family alone." So of course he also knows why you're doing it.

"No, Rick, s-she just loves you so much and I want to reassure her that-that you're becoming a better person-"

"Better person. You're kidding everyone including yourself" he retorted.

You sat down in the blue metal chair next to his workbench and tried to find the right words as he towered over you.

"I- Rick, I don't think you're incapable of it. 'Better person' is a broad term but you can always be a better father for her. And I know you're trying. You never credit yourself for anything family wise. You'll just refute what I'm saying now. But everything like that- it hurts her, you know?"

"A-and because you're her friend o-or because you've been following me around for months, y-you think you're qualified to give any kind of s-speech on fatherhood and what I should be?"

"No, I don't. I just want to help you. And her."

"Don't hold your breath. I don't need any more fans." A smirk then turned up at his lips as he stood in front of you. He leaned down and placed one hand carefully on your thigh while bringing his mouth to your ear.

"But at least I could fuck my stalker. I always wanted that to be a possibility. Consider yourself lucky because it's why I didn't incinerate you the minute I found out what you were doing."

Flustered, you were at a loss for words and were met with many mixed emotions. Mostly excitement and arousal.

"Meet me here tonight at 9, and we can talk things out some more," he dragged out and winked, before closing the door behind him and leaving your heart pumping at a rapid pace.

[mynameismckenziemae]

The way certain (tone deaf) actors are promoting ‘It Ends with Us’ makes me sick to my stomach.

I don’t care for Colleen Hoover’s writing so I had no idea what the book/movie was about. I started seeing interviews/promos on TikTok and thought it looked like a cutesy romcom type movie.

Then I saw the scene where she’s in the hospital with teeth marks and realized it’s about domestic abuse. There was a comment stating, “are those bite marks? 🤔” like it’s unheard of.

A Little Bit Stronger is “dedicated” to my sister, and I think it’s time to tell her story (with her permission).

TW: physical/sexual/domestic abuse below.

In March of 2012, my sister left her husband seemingly out of the blue. Sure, they squabbled and fought, but most married couples do. She didn’t give much of a reason, other than she didn’t love him anymore.

Things got ugly fast. He accused her of cheating, he would tell their kids all kinds of terrible things about her when he had them, etc.

I married my husband in June of 2012 and when my sister got home that night from the reception, her ex was waiting for her. She had been keeping “evidence” (printed texts, emails, receipts, etc.) in her vehicle because she knew he still had keys to the house. He ripped the keys from her, took her records and got into his car. She leaned in through the open car window and he took off with her hanging out of it.

He hit her several times before biting her arm to get her to let go, leaving a baseball-sized, dark purple bruise. She had to tell her kids she got hit by a golf club (she worked at a country club at the time).

I found out about this incident a week later when I got back from my honeymoon. I also found out that he had been beating her for several months and that’s why she originally left him, but was too embarrassed to tell anyone.

She went to court to get a restraining order but the judge did not grant one, saying each party was in the wrong.

Things continued to escalate (not physically but the police were called several times) and she was finally granted a no contact/restraining order.

6 weeks after my wedding, I got a call from my mom at 7 in the morning that my sister was in the hospital.

Her ex (who was drunk) had broken into her house through the basement window (where her bedroom was) and proceeded to beat the living shit out of her, choked her and ripped off her sleep shorts and sexually assaulted her.

My nephew (7 years old at the time) heard the commotion and came downstairs. Her ex yelled at him to get a knife. Being 7, he brought down a butter knife, not knowing what the reason was.

Her ex followed my nephew upstairs to get a different knife and my sister was able to make it outside to the neighbors house. She pounded on the door, naked except her tee shirt.

Her neighbor let her in and called the police. She was inconsolable as her kids were still inside.

The police arrived shortly after and there was blood and shattered glass everywhere-he had smashed a mirror over his head in a rage.

After a 4-hour long standoff with the police, he finally surrendered. One of the officers told my sister if the children hadn’t been upstairs with him, they would’ve shot and killed him.

He was found guilty of: strangulation, battery, and false imprisonment.

He was found NOT guilty of: second degree sexual assault (because none of his DNA was found in/on her genitalia or her ripped shorts), criminal damage to property (a specialized cleaning coming had to come in and clean due to it being biohazardous with the amount of blood. Her homeowners insurance covered it but it cost over $5,000).

He wasn’t even charged with attempted murder when he had every intention of killing her.

He served only 9 years in prison.

She’ll sleep with one eye open for the rest of her life.

So hearing the leading actress say, “grab your girlfriends, wear your florals” to watch a movie about domestic violence is beyond insensitive.

I don’t know where I was going with this but yeah.

[joannaliceevans-fanficblog]

The One That Got Away: Prologue

Yay! Here is my new fic! I got this idea from when I was writng one of the chapters for Hello Sunshine. It took me some time, to figure out, and getting the ideas going. And so here it is!

Summary: Mobster, Lloyd Hansen had everything he wanted, even the girl of his dreams, You. He loved you with all his heart, and swore to you that he would someday marry you and to never break your heart. 

You came from a broken family. With a mother that wasn’t even around, that slept with random guys and your father working for The Drysdale Family. You didn’t have the best, but your brother Andy tried to protect you, until he left. 

The day your world came crashing down, was the day that Lloyd broke your heart. 

Mob Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Before I shut up. I just wanted thank @princessofdarkwinter​ ! She’s not only beta this chapter...but she made this beautiful mood board for me! Thank you babes!

Rain and thunder poured hard as you sat in your car. Tears after tears kept pouring down, blending in with the weather outside. Anger rises within you as you hit the steering wheel. 

His words kept flowing through your mind as it broke you more and more. 

"I'm sorry. I have to honor my father's wishes." 

That one sentence kept replaying in your mind like a broken record. Lloyd kept reminding you that this wasn’t what he wanted nor the path he wanted to go and that you were the one for him. But now, none of it matters. You thought today was the day that you would tell him, but now it’s too late.

You needed to figure out where to go. You only wanted to get out of this place and never return. Heading out of the city, you ended up in the suburbs of Boston and a private neighborhood. The guards knew you and let you drive in. You ended up in an area you last visited a long time ago. You started the car and drove. 

You had no place to run to except this one place you called safe haven. You parked your car and got out. But you stood frozen in the rain. You remember how much you wanted to get out of this hell of a place, remembering when your father beat you as a child. You remember how you were warned not to be dating someone you weren’t supposed to because, in the end, you would get hurt. But you couldn't help it, and you fell in love. 

But you didn't have anyone else. Your brother lives an hour away from where you are. Starting to get drenched, you made your way up the long driveway. Making it to the front, your shaking hand rang the doorbell twice. The door opened, and a little girl about years old appeared. 

"Uncle Ebi dares a purdy lady-"

"Young lady, I told you-" 

You heard the familiar deep, rich voice. And that little girl that you knew all too well. You then looked up slowly, to see the man that you hadn't seen in over five years. 

"I-I-" You tried to get your words out, but the cold and being drenched started to take a toll on you. Your body gave out as you fell forward toward the man who caught you before you hit the ground.

The man immediately picked you up, and the little girl ran to the dining room. 

You felt like being placed down on the bed, and everything went dark. Everything seemed so fuzzy and cold. You try to make out what's going on, but all you can hear are frantic pleas from an older lady and the man carrying you. 

**

Two Days Later 

“Uncle Ebi, she's waking up!” You heard the same little girl from earlier. You tried to get up, but your body felt exhausted. 

“Olivia, let her rest, okay?” You heard, and she ran out of the room. You watched him take a seat next to you, and he took your hand into his. You took a good look at him, and you now realize who the man is.l

"Ari, I didn't know where to go. I wasn't thinking-"

"Shh, it's alright. I told you, you are always welcome. Now get some rest," Ari said with a smile, knowing no matter how heated things get between the two of you, he could be the person you could count on. 

Closing your eyes, knowing you are in a safe place. 

[bibbumblebee]

Starting a fic when I should be working shhh don’t tell anyone….

I headcanon that Phoenix is actually quite intelligent, but just inexperienced and thrown into a legal system that was the exact inverse of the system he studied in law school. Now that The Dark Age of the Law is coming to a close, and Edgeworth is back in LA, I feel like more “standard” processes get implemented into court proceedings. Not perfect, just present.

Anyway, Phoenix defending a stage actor, anyone???

————-

“You seem busy,” Edgeworth said, gray eyes falling on the subpoena in Phoenix’s hands. “Proactive, even.”

Phoenix ignored the jab and glanced over the dates of production at the bottom of the form. One week. He knew he wasn’t giving Kings County a lot of time to produce the records, but it wasn’t in direct violation of Rule 17, and he didn’t have the luxury of a one-month production window. If he didn’t get the documents within a week, he’d be going into trial blind. Well, blinder than usual, anyway.

He signed the subpoena and the accompanying notice with a practiced flourish and sighed. “Proactive, huh? Desperate, more like.”

“Blackquill’s got you that up against the wall, has he?”

“Huh?” Phoenix stood and grabbed his jacket, slinging it over his shoulders. “Oh, the LeMaster trial. No, Athena’s covering that.”

A smile ghosted across Edgeworth’s lips. “So confident in your argument you sent in your associate?”

“Yeah, actually,” Phoenix said. “She’s more than capable of putting Blackquill in his place, and you know it.”

In response, Edgeworth checked his phone. “We’ll be late to Trucy’s show if we don’t hurry.”

Phoenix grabbed his papers and followed Edgeworth out of the office, two steps behind him as they went.

“If I may,” Edgeworth asked once they were seated in his car, “what is that subpoena for?”

“Production,” Phoenix said. “A new case came in today, and something about it seems off.”

“Since when does a case you accept not feel off?”

“This is different,” Phoenix said, thinking back to the phone call he’d received that morning. “This one just feels...tampered with.”

Phoenix noticed Edgeworth’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. The car surged forward with a sudden burst of speed before Edgeworth realized and edged off the pedal. “Which of my prosecutors is assigned to it?” He asked, voice tight. “If I find out any of them have tampered with evidence in order to make this case play in their favor, I will personally see to it to have them dismissed. We’ve spent far too long trying--”

“Edgeworth,” Phoenix said, cutting across Edgeworth before he could build up into a proper rant, “it isn’t anyone at your office. It’s outside your jurisdiction. That’s what worries me.”

Edgeworth’s hands didn’t release their deathgrip on the wheel, but his breathing did relax some, Phoenix noticed with relief. “It just shows how much work we have left to do.” A pause. Then, “How did the case come to you?”

“The suspect requested me specifically,” Phoenix said. “He wouldn’t accept anyone else.”

“How flattering.”

“Too suspicious to be flattering,” Phoenix said. “I’m meeting with him tomorrow, first thing, but something tells me nothing about this process is going to go smoothly, especially since there’s an outside jurisdiction involved.”

“And the subpoena?”

“I’m asking Kings County to produce any and all documents pertaining to the prosecution,” Phoenix said. “I can’t get anything on the victim without a court order, which I don’t have...yet, but I need something to go off of.”

“I must admit,” Edgeworth said, “that’s rather unlike you.”

Phoenix chuckled and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I’m dealing with an unknown attorney,” he said. “And I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

“Right,” Edgeworth murmured, voice barely audible over the purr of his car’s engine. “I understand.”

“I know you do,” Phoenix said.

* * *

Phoenix sat down across from Ariel Spector and studied his client closely.

On stage, Spector cut a terrifying figure: tall, broad, with square features and a thick neck. He bellowed his notes, loud and confident, echoing through the theatre. Off stage, however, he seemed drawn, disbelieving, and truly indignant as to why he’d be suspect in this situation. Phoenix noted the jut of his chin, the way he kept fidgeting his thumbs, as though trying to undo an invisible knot.

Phoenix sighed. “Hi, Mr. Spector. I’m Phoenix Wright, defense attorney-”

“I know who you are,” Spector said, sticking his chin out. “I requested you.”

“Just a formality,” Phoenix said, quickly flipping open his notebook and pulling a pen from his pocket. “Why did you request me?”

“You’re the best, right?” Spector leaned forward till his nose was nearly touching the glass partition. “You’ll find out the truth behind what happened.”

The truth. The knot of unease loosened in Phoenix’s stomach somewhat. At the very least, this wasn’t an Engarde situation, where he was used to try and get a not-guilty verdict, whatever the cost. Spector didn’t want off just because. He wanted the truth, which Phoenix knew would invariably get Spector off. Because why else would he demand the truth over innocence?

“The truth, yeah,” Phoenix said, nodding. He held his gaze with Spector for a moment before glancing down. “That’s my job. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“You don’t know?” Spector asked.

“Let’s just say Kings County hasn’t exactly been…forthcoming with information,” Phoenix replied. “I want your version of events.”

Spector leaned back in his chair and swept a hand through his wavy black hair. “Well, where do I begin?” The tone of his voice, thoughtful and low, alerted Phoenix that this could very quickly turn into a monologue.

“It all began six months ago,” Spector began, and his voice dipped lower. He stuck out his hand and swept it across an invisible horizon, inviting Phoenix to imagine a mountain range or rolling vista. “I had just gotten cast as the Phantom in the Freiderick Cain production of The Phantom of the Opera. It was my first truly big gig. Sure, I’ve done Jersey Boys, City of Angels, that sort of thing, but this…this was the big time. I accepted right away, without even meeting the rest of the cast prior. Truthfully, I’d only heard their names before.”

“No one else you knew was in this production?” Phoenix asked, marking that statement in his notes with a small star. “But you’ve been in several productions, and Broadway is big, but it isn’t that big.”

“Not a soul,” Spector said. “Cain said it wasn’t an issue that I didn’t have rapport with anyone. In fact, he seemed rather pleased.”

“Why?”

Spector shrugged and brushed invisible lint off his shirt sleeve. “Not a clue. I didn’t ask. It makes no difference to me, you see. I got the role.”

Of course, Phoenix thought. Spector got what he wanted, so why would he care. Still, it was strange. Phoenix wasn’t sure how just yet, but he knew something stood out there, and he’d do all he could to figure it out. “What happened to the person who played the Phantom before you came along?”

Spector stiffened and then immediately laughed. Phoenix thought it sounded rather forced. “Him? Oh, he was just done with the role. Cain said he left to audition for Old Deuteronomy. Cats, you see-”

“I know,” Phoenix said. He gave a tight-lipped smile. “Don’t worry about that. So he left for another production, sounds normal enough. What happened once rehearsals started? Did you and the cast get along?”

“Swimmingly!” Spector said. He winked at Phoenix then, as though he was vying for Phoenix to believe him.

“Mr. Spector,” Phoenix said with a sigh. “You don’t have to audition for my trust. Just tell me what happened.”

“We got along fine,” Spector said. “Oma and I didn’t really get along, but she’s rather…in-character all the time. It got a little annoying.”

“That’s…”

“La Carlotta,” Spector said.

“Fitting.” Phoenix marked down Oma’s name in the margin of his notes. “What about you and the victim, William Way? Did you get along?”

“Of course! He and Summer and I were friends!” Spector sat up straighter in his chair then. “We spent weeks together. Months, even. We’d get dinner together. I’ve been to Will’s flat for pizza. He asked me to marathon Mad Men with him. If we hated each other, why would he do that?”

“So you didn’t kill him?”

“Of course not!” Spector’s voice echoed off the walls in a baritone panic. He shoved his knuckle in his mouth and bit down to stifle the sob that wracked his body. “I didn’t do it, I didn’t kill him. I would never- I could never- he and I were friends. I’d never do that to Summer.”

“I believe you,” Phoenix said, pleading with his eyes for Spector to understand. “I’m going to have to ask some questions that may unnerve you or make you uneasy, but I need you to be honest with me, okay?”

Spector nodded, raking his hand back through his hair again nervously. He licked his lips to wet them and then took a deep breath. “Okay. Ask away.”

Phoenix clicked his pen once more and tapped it to his notepad. “Start,” he said, “at the beginning.”