#this isn't xbox live

[thatbrightblueshine]

HE IS CURSING AGAIN 💀

[wolf-2099]

No more fighting and shaming people for their type of f/os. Support and love for all kinds of f/os Now.

✰ You have live action f/os? Maybe even only live action f/os?? That's awesome!! Your f/os from movies? Tv shows? Some independent series/project? That's so cool!

✰ You have anime f/os? Does your f/o list have popular characters from this season's newest anime or the most popular anime phone games? Love that for you! Glad you're having fun with your latest interests.

✰ You have f/os from video games? That's cool! Recent releases? Maybe even older games, last generation? Or maybe games even older than that? Indie games only a handful of people know, or indie games everyone knows? That's amazing!

✰ Your f/os come from children's shows or movies? Are they animated, or maybe live action, or one of the shows that use puppets? That's really great, I'm glad you can find beauty in these shows people might say you're too old for. Never let anyone stop your love for your interests.

✰ Your f/os are from comic?? Me too! Are they from big name series or maybe the lesser known ones? Are they indie comics? Maybe even webcomics?? Hell yeah, great taste.

✰ F/os from podcasts? Actual plays/liveplays?? Novels?? Yes!! How fun!! It can be hard when there's very few visuals of your f/os and all of your content is just audio/writing, but it's sweet that you can find so much love for them that you don't need visuals.

✰ Maybe your f/os are from something I didn't even think of. If so, I love that. Your taste and love for your f/os is unique!! And I'm glad I get to learn more about it :)

I think it's great that there is such a wide variety of types and tastes when it comes to self shipping. Some people's f/o lists are only super attractive anime pretty boys, some are from clunky PS2/Xbox games, some don't even have visuals of what they look like, some you've seen everywhere and some you've never heard of in your life. It's great, our differences are what make all of us coming together even more beautiful, I think.

[If you're an adult that ages up characters under 18 or are pro.ship or whatever, this post isn't for you to reblog]

[sebscore]

I saw you mentioned Pierre and Charles babysitting a young leclerc sister? Can I request an imagine of that? Them being about 17 and 18, reader being a toddler? Thank you! Love your work.

YOU CAN'T SAY THAT WORD | CHARLES LECLERC & PIERRE GASLY

pairings: charles leclerc x sister!reader / pierre gasly x leclerc!reader

warnings: swearing. piarles are horrible babysitters. charles and pierre are teenagers in this for plot purposes.

author's note: this is heavily inspired by modern family, btw. thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy this fic and let me know what you think of it!

• • • • • • •

''Sorry, I know this isn't what we had planned for tonight.'' Charles apologized as he and Pierre settled into his living room. The Frenchman chuckled, not very amused. ''No, this is not what I had imagined.''

''It's the only way my parents would let me keep the house to ourselves.'' The teenager explained, looking down at the toddler sitting on her playmat.

It had been more difficult than expected for Charles to persuade his parents to let him and his friend be by themselves for the day. The truth was that Charles' parents didn't fully trust the teenagers to be left alone without any kind of supervision. However, Charles had been very adamant that he could be responsible and keep the house intact. So, his parents let him have his friend over on one condition: that they babysit the youngest Leclerc sibling.

Pierre patted Charles' back. ''It's okay, Charlito! It can be fun, right?''

''Yeah,'' he sighed out of relief, happy his best friend didn't want to leave, ''we'll play with her for a bit and tire her out, then she'll sleep easier.'' Charles loved his little sister more than anything, but he still wanted some guy time.

''Hey, Little Leclerc! You still know me, right? What's my name?'' Pierre sat himself down next to the toddler who was playing with her Barbie dolls.

She looked up at him, a bright smile covering her face once she noticed who it was. ''Gasly!'' Y/N screamed, making the two young men laugh. ''No, no, no! It's Pierre, Y/N! Pierre.'' He clearly articulated his name in hope she repeated it back to him.

''Gasly!''

''Pierre.''

''Gasly!''

''Pie- Oh, whatever,'' he sighed loudly, giving up on trying, ''should we play some Xbox? We haven't played in a while.'' Pierre suggested, his attention back to Charles.

The younger one nodded his head, moving to grab his two controllers. ''Mario Kart?'' The Monégasque smirked, already knowing the answer. ''What else would we play?'' Pierre got up from the ground and took a seat on the couch.

Charles sat down next to him, getting the game started. ''I beat you last time, remember?'' He grinned, recalling the previous time they played and Charles had won, much to Pierre's dismay.

''I'm ready for revenge, Leclerc.'' The older one stated, raising his eyebrow.

Before they could play against each other, they had to choose a character that would represent them in the race. ''Who are you choosing?'' Charles asked Pierre as they frequently switched up their avatars.

''Peachy Peachy!'' Y/N exclaimed, pointing with her small hands to Princess Peach who appeared on the tv screen.

Both boys chuckled at the girl's excitement. ''You want me to be Princess Peach, Y/N?'' Pierre asked her, lingering on the female character. The toddler babbled some inaudible words, but it was obvious what her answer was.

''Charlie, Daisy! Daisy!'' She focused her attention on her brother, who was about to choose Mario as his character. Y/N walked up to him, slapping her hands on his knees. ''You Daisy, Charlie!''

Charles glanced at an amused Pierre, who shrugged his shoulders. ''We can always change characters, Leclerc.''

''Okay, I'll be Daisy then.'' He gave in, a bright smile covering his face as his little sister started clapping her hands and stomping her feet, because of the overwhelming excitement she was feeling.

The babysitting gig was going well so far. Y/N plopped herself down on her mat and patiently watched the screen as the two guys raced against each other. She would clap for either of them whenever someone won or she would enthusiastically jump with them.

Charles was running in P1 until Pierre passed him in the last second and pushed him into the walls, making him come in last as everyone overtook him. ''Putain, Gasly!'' As soon as the words left the Monégasque's mouth, their eyes widened and immediately went to the little girl sitting in front of them.

''Maybe she didn't hear,'' Pierre whispered, making sure the little one wouldn't be able to hear them, ''just move on like nothing happened.''

''Hey, Y/N,'' Charles called her over to him, ''you want to play with me against Pierre?'' A wave of relief went through him as his sister jumped up at his words, pleased that she didn't start repeating the curse word.

He picked her up by her underarms and planted her on his lap. Charles trapped his sister between his arms, so she could grab the controller and play along with them, although he was practically doing all of the work.

Pierre let the Leclerc siblings have the win in the first round, knowing it would make the girl happy. ''You're so good, Y/N! You're better than both of us!'' He complimented her, booping her nose.

All was well, until Pierre used one of the red and green shells, and threw it at their character, making their Princess Daisy avatar spin around and lose their first place position. ''Putain, Gasly!'' Y/N repeated her brother's words, having it heard loud and clear before.

All the tension that had left came right back to smack the two boys in the face. They slowly glanced from the girl to each other, seeing a flush of panic in each other's eyes.

''Uh, Y/N? Go grab your crayons and coloring book, we'll draw together, okay?'' Charles spoke up, coloring being the first distraction that came into mind.

She adamantly nodded her head, excited at the thought of the three of them doing something together again. ''Okay.''

As soon as she was out of sight, Charles looked with wide eyes at his friend. ''I'm in so much trouble.'' His hand flew through his hair, frustration visible on his face.

''As long as she doesn't say it in front of your parents it's okay, Charles.'' Pierre tried to calm him down.

''That's the thing, she's learned something new and every time she learns something new, she wants to show it off to mum and dad.'' He explained, pretty confident that his sister would say the word when his parents got back home. ''They're not going to be thrilled that their 4 year-old daughter is saying curse words.''

Pierre thought for a moment. ''We can just explain to her that she can't say that word? She's very smart, she'll understand.''

As if on cue, the toddler hopped back into the living room while holding her box of crayons and several coloring books. Y/N put everything on the dining table, standing on her tippy toes and took a seat on her chair. She started coloring right away, not waiting for the two older guys that were still seated on the couch.

''Alright, we'll explain it to her.'' Charles agreed to Pierre's idea. They got up from their seats, put the controllers away and joined the girl at the table. ''Y/N, we have to talk to you about that word you said earlier.'' Her brother started off.

''What word?'' She looked up from her butterfly drawing.

Pierre shot Charles a warning look as if to say ''don't be dumb and repeat it''. The Monégasque got the hint and nodded. ''The one while we were gaming, the one that starts with p.''

''Peachy?''

''No.''

''Pierre?''

''You do know my name!'' He exclaimed, it was the first time she properly pronounced his name. ''But no, not that one.''

Maybe she doesn't remember, Charles thought to himself. He glanced at Pierre who simply shrugged his shoulders, he seemed to be thinking the same thing.

''Oh, you mean 'putain'?'' Y/N said the word again, the innocent and pure tone in her voice almost not making it sound like a curse word. Pierre had a hard time not bursting out in laughter, it just sounded super adorable coming from the little girl.

Charles was shooting daggers at his friend with his eyes, they had to look serious. ''That's a bad word, okay? You can't say that anymore.'' He told her, getting on her eye-level.

''But you said it?'' Her confused expression was difficult not to swoon over, but they both had to be strong.

''I shouldn't have said that, that was really bad of me,'' Charles clarified for her, ''we're not allowed to say it, okay?'' He had an hopeful glance in his eyes.

Y/N glimpsed over at Pierre, his hands covering his face to try to hide his laughter. ''But it's making him laugh, Charlie! Why is he laughing if it's a bad word?'' She asked her older brother, not understanding it.

''Pierre shouldn't be laughing.'' Charles semi-scolded his friend.

The man in question scratched his throat. ''Your brother is right, it's not funny and I shouldn't be laughing, Y/N.'' He tried to sound stern.

The small girl simply laughed in their faces and got away from the table, running back upstairs to her room. ''We're not joking, Y/N Pascale Leclerc!'' Charles yelled.

''She thinks we're not being serious.'' He sighed to Pierre, letting his head drop onto the table.

Pierre chuckled. ''Well, are we being serious?'' Charles rolled his eyes at the Frenchman's words. ''Hey, come on,'' Pierre patted Charles' head, making the younger one look up, ''we're just gonna drop it, alright? By the time our parents get back, she'll have forgotten all about it, you know small kids.''

''Yeah, you're right.'' Pierre's assurance brought him some comfort about the situation, kids get distracted easily. They don't have anything to worry about.

The rest of the day went by quite smoothly. Y/N took a long nap after they played some football in the garden, so the two boys could play some more non-toddler-friendly games on the Xbox. Once Y/N had woken up, they ordered pizza and despite his mother drilling into him that she couldn't have any fast food, Charles let the girl have a few bites.

The three of them were laying on the couch watching 'Cars', when their parents returned home. ''We're back, mes chéries!'' Pascale, Charles and Y/N's mother, greeted them.

Y/N jumped up from Charles' lap, running into her mother's arms. ''Maman! I won against Pierre in Mario Kart!'' She bragged to her, a beaming smile on her face.

''Really? You had fun with the boys?'' She asked, subtly looking around the living room looking for anything that indicated they had caused trouble, but she found nothing.

''Yes!'' Y/N adamantly nodded, making everyone around her laugh.

Hervé had taken notice of the empty pizza boxes in the kitchen. ''Did you enjoy the pizzas? I hope you didn't give anything to your sister, Charles.''

Charles shook his head. ''She didn't have pizza, Papa.'' He lied.

''Chérie, what did you eat tonight?'' Her mother asked her, not entirely convinced by her son's answer.

The young girl glanced at the two teenagers before replying. ''I had pasta and Charlie gave me a lollypop after we played in the garden.'' She made sure to use her bambi eyes, knowing it worked on her parents and brothers every time she made that cute face.

''That's good, mon amour!'' Her mum hugged her, winking at Charles behind her daughter's back.

''We're gonna take off then, we have quite the trip back home.'' Pierre's mother, Pascale, signaled for her son to get up from the couch and to bid goodbye to everyone.

Pierre sighed, but stood up. ''Thank you so much for having me over, it was really fun.'' He thanked Charles' parents. Hervé hugged the boy, while Pascale ruffled his hair as she was still holding the toddler in her arms.

''Bye, Little Leclerc! I'll get revenge on you next time we play Mario Kart, alright?'' He crouched down a bit to be eye-to-eye with the girl. She nodded and the two high-fived.

Everyone moved to the hallway, waiting for Pierre to put on his shoes, so the Gasly Family could start their journey back to France.

''Maman?'' Y/N whispered in her mother's ear, covering her mouth with her hand.

''Yes?''

''Why does Pierre look sad?'' The young boy was disappointed that the day with his best friend was already over, even though they would be seeing each other in a few days.

Her mum chuckled, endeared by her daughter's observations. ''He had a nice time here, so he's a little sad that he has to go home.'' Pascale explained, whispering back.

Pierre and his parents were almost out the door when Y/N came up with her masterplan to make the older boy laugh and cheer him up. ''Pierre! Pierre!'' She yelled, grabbing everyone's attention.

''Putain!''

The silence in the hallway didn't last long as all the parents burst out laughing at the unexpected words that left the girl's mouth. Charles and Pierre, who looked like they had seen a ghost, slowly let the situation sink in and laughed along with them. They were mostly smiling out of relief that their parents could see the humor in it.

''Alright, goodbye, everyone!'' The Gasly's bid them goodbye one last time before disappearing from their sight.

Charles continued smiling until his father closed their front door and turned around, a serious look on his face contrasting the laughing one from before. ''I gotta go.'' He swiftly moved away from the hallway to the living room.

''Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc!''

[atarathegreat]

Crackhead Headcanons Tokyo Revengers

ft: Ran Haitani, Rindou Haitani, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Yamagishi Kazushi, Shinichiro Sano, Wakasa Imuashi

Ran

wraps himself up in a ball with his blankets, but it's an absurd amount of blankets

if rindou isn't careful he'll end up as part of ran's blanket ball

stands with his hands on his hips because he thinks it makes him look intimidating

has bunny ears on his gaming headset, flops them around when he plays

ran definitely fights rindou over who gets to play (mom said it's my turn on the xbox!)

bro will fall asleep wherever he wants

has slept on the side of the road, leaving rindou no choice but to watch over his brother.

Rindou

sleeps under his bed often

thinks the color blue brings out his eyes (he's right)

get's good grades but pretends he doesn't

used to make ran make pillow forts with him, putting up 'no girls allowed' signs

unironically calls himself a gamer

crops people out of pictures of him and ran

bonten!rindou carries a little flask with him and takes a drink everytime sanzu talks

Sanzu

gets absolutely obsessed with anyone he even remotely likes

sleeps with little stuffies so he can be curled around something

I know this man carries around a pocket book just to confuse everyone

bonten!sanzu who uses checks to annoy everyone in the store lines

writes them out super slow just to make it a longer experience

sends riddles instead of straight forward texts to keep rindou in the dark about what's going on

Yamagishi

drinks coffee because he thinks it makes him look sophisticated

thinks he gives off Double O7 vibes when his hair is down

has sat in the Mizo Mid boys rooms waiting for them to wake up early in the morning

sneaks into adult shops with makoto just to see the magazines

timeskip!Yamagishi acts bored and out of it so that no one sees his nerdy side

timeskip!yamagishi who sleeps sitting up wherever he can

Shinichiro

thinks girls dig the mechanics jumpsuit

always has a wrench with him

is scared of women

convinced he has a car and keeps a box of wires in the trunk

hordes pieces of wood and wires and metals

flirts with older women

once brought home an older woman who left him for his granddad

Wakasa

has a box of sweets that he eats on all day

uses the dango stick in his mouth to poke people randomly

has fishing poles all around his home

joins fishing tournaments for fun, he won once and hung the plaque in his living room

acts like a bored dad when anyone is around him, especially when benkei goes fishing with him

drinks beer like its water

watches reality tv show and gets invested

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Was i the asshole for "insinuating" my friend's husband attempted to poisoned me?

I 26cisf have always, since I was quite young, had a fear of people tampering with my food and drinks. If I leave a drink or food in a room with others, my immediate thought when I sit back down is to taste test it to see if it tastes different or see if it looks different. If it dose, I immediately throw it away, wash or get a new dish/bowl/glass/etc and get a new serving. This fear isn't unfounded as, when I was 7 or 8, my dad spit in my bowl of soup and I caught him. He hated me so this wasn't unexpected. Later in life I had 2 different abusive partners threaten to drug me and as a result, all food is suspicious the moment it's left alone with anyone. I've done this to my husband on occasion and he understands.

Earlier this month, I, my husband 26tm, a friend of mine 25cf and her husband 53cm all had a nice dinner together at my apartment. Later on in the evening, our husbands went to play on his xbox in the living room while me and my friend had a drink in the kitchen. The kitchen "ends" right where the living room begins so they were on a couch about 15ft away from us, again, its an apartment. I've been friends with her since middle school so I have no reason to suspect her but her husband is creepy towards me and our mutual friends of our age and is much older than her. I put up with him for her sake and never made an ill comment other than a week after they started dating with concerns about their age gap. My friend and her husband dated for about 8 months and have been married for about 4 months. My husband and friend left so he could show her some break time levels from Mario wonder on the switch in our room while her husband sat on his phone on the couch. My husband mentioned it over dinner, my friend showed interest but wasn't sure so he offered to show her.

I felt ackward and had to pee so I went to the bathroom and when I came back, her husband had changed positions on the couch and I'm pretty sure my drink wasn't in the same place I left it by 2 to 4 inches. I was instantly nervous and took a sip and it didn't taste right. As I was pouring out my drink in the sink, my husband and friend came back and she saw me doing it and glanced once quickly at her husband. I barely turned my head so I'm not sure how she realized I suspected him a little. She knows about my fear and knew how I handled it a few times when I feared she had done something however.... Apparently doing this while mildly suspecting her husband was too far and she absolutely exploded on me out of no where.

She said I was implying her husband was a rapist or abuser or creep and that it was two faced of me to invite people over who I thought might poison me or fuss with my food. She said I always take that fear too far in public settings, which isn't true as I've never done this with groups of people bigger than 3 or 4 friends nor do I vocally accuse them. I just reset my food and move on as it eases my anxiety about it. Her husband got super defensive and started getting my face and my husband diffused the situation by sending them both home. My friend blew up my phone that night and eventually she blocked me for a week before coming back to apologize for her actions but asking me to apologize to her husband for making him feel bad. I told her it was her who made it seem like I was accusing him, not me for doing something she's seen me do a million times.

Eventually it went away but every time I see her, she asks if I'm going to apologize soon but I'm just not sure if what I did was really as offensive as she made it seem. I don't genuinely believe that he tried to poison or roofie me but if there's even a 10% chance, my anxiety is through the roof and I pass out if I just try to push through. No one else, after knowing this fear, has taken it personally as it's just the remains of trauma and fundamentally harmless. Once I'm reset, I often totally forget the scare and they've acted like nothing ever happened. Was i the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[hangmanssunnies]

Double Tap

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

Summary: You were hesitant when your friends told you about their other friend who needed a roommate. Living with a man, let alone a Naval aviator, isn't your ideal living situation. However, you are desperate to get out of your current house. So, you will have to suck it up and make a deal with Jake "Hangman" Seresin. Now you just wish he would stop doing things that make you fall in love with him.

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

Word count: 19k

AO3 LINK

Warnings: Abuse (Implied and mentioned), confrontation with Abuser, Child abuse (mentioned), Slow burn, Implied calorie counting, routines and compulsions, Jigsaw puzzles, taxes, Neurodivergent coded! Hangman, Fiscally responsible!Hangman, Protective!Hangman. Please let me know if I missed any for this part, I know it is a long one.

Authors Note: This got so completely out of hand. It started as one scene and then grew a mind of its own. Part two is written, just not edited, I'm planning on having that done later this week. Hangman Coyote BFF supremacy.  I apologize for writing the most hyper-specific!Jake you have probably ever read. 85% of his personality is just things I find attractive in men.

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.

You had been at your friend Marlee's house for almost an hour before she couldn't stop herself from confronting you. She had at least let you get settled and offered you a drink while pretending to be distracted by the lasagna she was making. She had spun towards you expectantly when it was in the oven, having reached her limit on waiting. 

"What happened?" Marlee asks. 

"It's nothing." You respond. 

"It is something. I don't want to reread your texts back to you, babes."

"Marls," you sigh, briefly closing your eyes, trying to fight the exhaustion you feel. 

"You can't live there anymore. We need to get you out."

"Yeah, let me just move and find a place to live. It's not that easy, Marlee." 

She sighs heavily. "I know, babes, but at least stay here with Javy and me. If he touches you like that again."

"It was just a one-time thing," you quickly cut her off. But, from the pitying look in her eyes, she knows it hasn't been just this one time. 

"If something happened."

"Nothing is going to happen." Marlee was too bright and too good of a friend. She knew something had already happened, and she knew things had been happening. Her frown and eyebrow raise say it all. 

"I can't just crash here," you say. 

"You are always, always welcome."

"You are," a voice pops up, and you both look over to the couch. You thought Marlee's husband, Javy, was thoroughly invested in the game he was playing on his Xbox, but it turns out he had an ear on your conversation. 

It wasn't something that bothered you. You loved Javy, he had been an excellent partner to Marlee, and you considered him a friend. He was fun and easygoing, something you hadn't expected from a Navy man. You also weren't bothered because everyone knew they were the type of couple that told each other absolutely everything. So, Javy would have found out one way or another.

"I know that. Thanks, you two." You tell them, trying to get them off your back. 

"Marlee is right. We can't have anything happening to you."

"Nothing is going to happen to me, Javy," you say, now trying to reassure them and stop this unnecessary worrying. 

"You know. I have a friend who has actually been looking for a roommate." Javy says. 

"You do?" you ask, surprised you hadn't heard about this sooner. 

"Yeah, I mean, he can be a lot. But he is a good guy and a great roommate."

"Who ?" Marlee cuts in. 

"Jake."

"Hangman?"

"Yeah, Hangman." The two of them stare at each other, and you can see that they are having one of those conversations of glances and small expressions you weren't entirely privy to understanding. 

Marlee then shrugs, nodding, and looks back at you, "It would be a nice safe place." 

"I mean, it's an option and would be a nicer place to stay than anything else you'll find. Plus, someone who is not a total stranger as a roommate." Javy tells you. He pulls off his headset and makes his way to the kitchen. He sets his hand on your shoulder and gives you a kind smile. 

"I'm not sure about living with a man."

"If you don't want to live with Jake or you aren't interested, we will find somewhere else. Or you stay here with us, but you can't stay there anymore." The seriousness behind Javy's smile isn't lost on you. So you start to slowly nod. 

"I guess I could at least chat with your friend if y'all think it's a decent option." 

"Yeah, for sure," Javy said with a grin. "I'll ask him about it, then maybe y'all can meet this weekend. We are still having a big bonfire on the beach. I'm sure he will be there."

"Oh, I wasn't planning on going to the bonfire." You start to say, which makes both Javy and Marlee frown.

"Why aren't you coming to the bonfire?"

You tried to think of a valid excuse beyond that being in open public spaces was terrifying to you right now. An excuse past the fact that you knew your bruises wouldn't be gone by Saturday. 

"I've just been stressed about finding a place to live, you know." You gave them both a weak smile, but neither of your friends seemed appeased. 

"Well, now you have a reason to come," Marlee says. 

"Yeah, exactly, and I'll talk to Jake." Javy presses a kiss to your forehead and then a lingering one to Marlee's lips. He returns to the couch, but not before looking at you seriously. "You know if you ever need anything, you call us?"

"Sir, yes sir," you tell him with a laugh, making Marlee giggle too. 

Even with Javy's reassurances, you are unsure about this whole idea. However, whoever this friend Jake is, you know he had to be better than your current living situation. After dinner, Marlee and Javy both reiterate their feelings on the whole issue before you leave their house. You did your best to wave them off and tell them you would see them in a few days.  

When Saturday rolls around, you head to the pin Marlee sent you for the bonfire. You are thankful it is a cooler day and will only be colder once the sun sets. It allows you to not look so out of place in your conservative clothes, ensuring all your bruises are covered. 

You arrive purposefully late and park far from the beach. By the time you make it to the group of people, you have sufficiently hyped yourself up to interact with the others. You decide to ease yourself into the party. You walk around the different coolers, opening them and investigating the available drink options. 

You are in the middle of shuffling through one when you hear a voice behind you.

"Anything specific I can help you find, sweetheart?" You turn around and are met with one of the most attractive men you have ever met. He is tall, with dirty blonde hair and a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose. 

"I'm just browsing," You tell the man with a shrug, proud of yourself for being able to put together a sentence. 

"I think I know what would be perfect for you, sweetheart.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," He says, flashing you a grin. His smile makes something in your stomach swoop a tiny bit. 

"And, what would that be?" you say, raising an eyebrow. 

"Me, of course."

You can't help the shocked laugh that falls out of your throat. Which just makes his handsome smile widen. 

"I was thinking something a bit stronger, actually."

"I know I look like a tall glass of water but let me tell you, I won't disappoint you."  

"Well, looks certainly can be deceptive."

"That's true. Are you really as sweet as you look?" 

Before you can answer, you hear Javy's voice to your right. "Oh good, you two already met." 

You turn your head to see Javy jogging over. He stops next to you with a smile on his face. You process his words and feel your stomach drop. The incredibly handsome man you were trying to flirt with was Javy's friend. Javy's friend he thought you could live with. 

"There haven't been any formal introductions," you say. 

"Jake Seresin," he says. He sticks out his hand, waiting for you to shake it. You take his hand, give it a firm shake, and share your name. He repeated it softly, giving your hand an extra squeeze before letting go. 

"Javy said you are looking to move," Jake says casually. Your voice seems stuck in your throat. You examine Jake's handsome face again and know you can't do this.

"Yeah, she is. Soon, too." Javy says after you haven't said anything leaving an awkward pause. 

"I have lots of space."

"Oh well, you know." You say, trying to figure out what to say by saying nothing at all. Jake nods along with you, but his eyebrows pull close together while his eyes narrow. 

"Plus, Jake is really clean," Javy adds. 

"That is good to know. Maybe Jake and I can talk about it later?" You say, giving both of them a smile. You turn back to the coolers and grab the first drink you see. 

"Yeah, we can talk about it later. Javy owes me a spike ball game anyways," Jake says. He flashes you another smile while grabbing a High Noon out of the cooler, gesturing for Javy to do the same. You leave them to find Marlee and chat with some other people at the party. 

You are considering how to best say goodbye and leave the party while sitting next to the fire later. You stare into the flames hoping they might provide you answers. 

"You would actually be doing me a huge favor by moving in, "Jake says to you casually. You are startled by his sudden presence, and you look over at him, quirking an eyebrow in response.

"Oh really?" 

"Yeah. I haven't had a roommate for a while, and I would prefer someone who isn't in the military. I don't want to bring work and ranks home. You know?"

"Oh yeah, sure, that makes sense," you say, following his line of logic. 

"Also, rent these days is," Jake doesn't finish the sentence, instead just whistling quietly.

"Yeah, rent is expensive," you laugh. You find it much easier to talk to Jake if you don't have to look directly out at him. 

"You don't have to let me know right now, but I don't have any issues with it."

"We haven't talked about it much," you tell him, surprised he had decided so quickly.

"There is this saying that beggars can't be choosers."

"I would want a roommate contract. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that would be fine by me, Sugar."

"Okay, cool, but we should think about it."

"Tonight is a party, and we are supposed to be having fun. Not doing business. So, why don't you text me, and we will hash out the details this week. Plus you can see the place, which you would probably want. Maybe you could move in next weekend if we can work it all out?"

Part of you thought you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, so you decided to text Jake throughout the week to hash out the details. And the next thing you know, Javy, Marlee, and Jake are helping you move your stuff. 

Living with Jake wasn't as hard as you worried it would be. In fact, it was much easier than you were anticipating. Jake led his life with strict regiment and routine. It was something that stretched beyond that he was in the military. 

Jake would wake up in the mornings and go on a run before coming home, making breakfast, showering, and going to work. Then he would come home, change and go to the gym, come home, shower again because he needed to, and then eat dinner. Every night if you were home while he was cooking, Jake would always offer you some. That leads you to find out he is a phenomenal chef. 

Then Jake would read in the large armchair in the living room and half-watch whatever you put on the TV to watch yourself. He only requested to use the TV when one of his sports teams was playing or on Wednesday nights, where he would spend an hour and a half playing Animal Crossing with his niece while they facetime. 

You had told Jake that the TV was his, and he didn't have to ask you to use it. Jake just laughed and shrugged before telling you he wasn't the biggest TV guy. Jake had been telling the truth when he said that. You realized that Jake was more interested in his books. If he wasn't reading a book, he sat silently with one of his sudoku puzzles and country music playing on vinyl. Then Jake would go to bed after whatever chores he deemed he should do. 

It was a strictly followed pattern, only differing on Fridays when he would sometimes go out to a bar with the guys or sometimes Saturdays. However, even on the weekends, he would follow the schedule closely. Regardless if he had gone to the bar, he would still wake up outrageously early in the morning, work out, do chores, and then go to the gym again. Sometimes Jake would venture out of the house to see his friends, but more often than not, he was reading or in the workshop in the garage with some project. 

Marlee had not prepared you for how amazingly hot Jake was. When you moved in, he had been very polite, if a bit curt. Never venturing to flirt with you again like when you first met. As the weeks living with Jake passed, though, he definitely warmed up to you. But still never pushed the roommate line between you. 

You worked hard to push your attraction for Jake to the side or shove it into a safe in the back of your mind. That was a challenging task to accomplish because, just like Javy said, Jake was very clean. It wasn't that he was a clean freak per se, but he was definitely an orderly and well-kept person. Everything in the house had a place it belonged. 

Jake always did his dishes and tidied up after himself in your common areas. He also never leaves any of his laundry waiting around. You had watched in a mix of awe and horror the first time he pulled out clothes from the dryer within five minutes of the machine going off. Then Jake started folding, halfway through the laundry, stoping to pull out an iron and ironing board. 

The sight was all so attractive that you had to excuse yourself upstairs. That was something that you often had to do. Anytime you felt heat build in you towards your roommate, you would quickly excuse yourself. You knew giving into your attraction for Jake in any shape or form would not lead anywhere good. You needed a place to live, and this place you had with Jake was way too good to risk anything. 

Given his career choice, it was not entirely surprising how regimented Jake is. However, what did surprise you was when he started to incorporate you into his routines in small ways. Jake would automatically set out an extra plate for you when cooking, and picks up snacks you like from the store. One day you come home and find a second shoe rack by the door just for you. On the days you had to be up for work, you would find that Jake had already put your morning drink together for you when he returned from the gym and was making his own breakfast. You like the steady rhythm and consistency that living with Hangman provides you. It's seamless and easy to fall into step with him. 

You had been living with Jake for a few months, and things were going really well, almost too well you sometimes felt like it was too good to be true. Your nightmares weren't as frequent. You get full nights sleep and feel comfortable here with Jake. The only times you don't feel content are the times that you think about how hot Jake is. Or when Jake does something that makes it hard not to try and smash your lips against his in a heated, passionate kiss. 

Then one day, you get home from work, and worry suddenly sweeps over you as you glance at your phone and realize what time it is. The house is completely dark and quiet. Jake should have been home several hours ago and on his way to the gym already. In fact, right about now was when he should have been getting home from the gym.  

You resist the urge to call Jake and check that he is okay. You know that action would be overstepping the roommate boundaries that exist clearly between you. You tell yourself it's silly to worry all because he wasn't following the schedule you made up for him in your head. It's not like Jake had ever written down his routine and given it to you. Maybe today was a special anniversary, or maybe he had after-work plans you didn't know about. 

Your worry is eased about twenty minutes later when you hear Jake's truck pull into the driveway, followed by the garage door rumbling open. You find yourself easing further into the couch, some of the tension you weren't wholly conscious of easing out of your body.  

Jake comes in, and you cut your eyes over to see him still in his flight suit. He doesn't say anything to you as he unlaces and kicks off his shoes. He passes you while walking to the stairs and manages a short but gruff hello. Then, without another word, he is gone. You stare after his back in shock. Something is definitely not right with Jake. 

He left his shoes sprawled on the ground by the door. It was not a sight you had ever seen in the house, not even the times Jake had stumbled home drunk and giggly. Jake always pulled off his boots, neatly tucking the laces in and then setting them up on his small shoe rack by the door. 

You get up from the couch and walk over to fix his shoes, tucking in the laces. You tell yourself it is so no one will trip over them, not for any other reason. Then you hear Jake's shower turn on, and the water runs much longer than the twenty-minute showers you are used to him taking. It all feels so odd and out of place. You decide to make some pasta for dinner, convinced Jake is planning on not eating at all with how far he is off his schedule. 

You are just finishing dinner when the water in his bathroom finally shuts off. Then fifteen more minutes later, Jake comes downstairs in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a thread-bare Annapolis shirt. He appears to be looking around downstairs, almost a bit dazed and lost. 

"I made dinner. How about you have some?" You call out to him from the kitchen. Jake follows your voice to the kitchen and looks at the food you have made and dishes up. Hesitantly he sits down at the table. 

"If you don't mind."

"Of course not. I know this may shock you since you normally cook, but I can do it too." 

"I've never thought that you couldn't cook." Jake quickly responds. 

"I know, Jake. I'm just teasing you. Now eat up." 

Jake follows orders and takes a bite of the pasta, letting out a small groan. "So good," he mumbles before taking another bite. 

"Do you want the macros?" You ask him conversationally after eating in silence for a few minutes. 

"Oh. No, thank you. I appreciate you making something and sharing. No need for you to put in extra work. I will be fine not tracking my macros for one meal," Jake says. 

"Okay," you say and give him the kindest smile you can think of. You don't want to push him on why he isn't okay. However, you can't stop yourself from sliding the piece of paper you wrote the macros on across the table to him anyways. 

Jake stares at the note card for a long moment and then looks up at you. It's not a look you have ever seen on your roommate's face before. You aren't entirely sure how to decipher the way his green sea-glass eyes are gleaming back at you. He folds the paper once before putting it in his pocket. 

Jake clears his throat, and the edges of his lips quirk up. "Thank you."

"Of course, anytime, Jake," you say back. He puts away his plate a few minutes later after finishing his food. Then packs up the leftovers into some tupperware. 

"I'm going to bed," Jake tells you. Jake doesn't even stop to grab the current book he is in the middle of from where it is placed next to his chair in the living room. 

The moment Jake disappears up the stairs, you are frowning again, considering his behavior. It bugged you, something clearly was off, but you weren't in the position to ask him what it was. As you start to settle down for the evening, you notice that Jake had put it in the laundry basket next to the washer that morning. Seeing that you knew he originally had every intention of starting it before going to the gym that night something that never happened.

You briefly considered that maybe it isn't normal how you have memorized his routine, but also maybe that was just part of living with Jake. You didn't even think before you were throwing his laundry in the washer for him. You stay up to put the clothes in the dryer. Then you find yourself folding items and hanging some of them, not confident that you could iron them correctly. About halfway through the chore, you stop realizing just what you are doing but finish it out, imagining the look on Jake's face when he sees his laundry done. You are in too deep to back out at this point. 

🏡🧩🏡

You knew it wasn't the best idea that morning when you had left to go pick up some of your remaining stuff and random mail from where you used to live. However, you didn't expect it to go as badly as it had. You were still shaking from the interaction you had when you got home. Every moment of the interaction repeats over and over in your head. You hazardously throw your keys into your little key bowl, not caring to notice Jake's there as well. 

You were still trying to take calming breaths and push away the tears streaming down your face. Standing at the entrance to the living room frozen, you aren't sure if you are actually at home or back there with him. 

You startle and jump, letting out a small shriek, hearing a sound in the kitchen. You turn slowly, shocked to see Jake staring at you dressed in his NWUs instead of his flight suit. You are equally surprised by the sight of him home in the middle of the day, in a uniform you rarely see him wear. 

The adrenaline of being scared forces your brain into letting go of the nerves and panic you had barely been keeping in check. Tears spring freely from your eyes as you take gasping breaths. J ake sets down the knife he is holding and takes long strides across the room to quickly reach your side. His hands hover near you but don't actually touch. 

"What's wrong?" Jake asks in a deep voice. 

You just shake your head at him, unable to respond, instead focusing on getting air into your lungs. 

"Can I touch you?" Jake asks then, and that does seem okay, so you jerkily nod your head yes. 

First, his hands settle lightly on your shoulders. Once it seems like you are okay and comfortable with that. Jake goes a step further and wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. You press your face into the material of his shirt. Your hands come up to bunch it slightly on his chest as you find purchase to clutch him closer. 

He makes gentle shushing noises but otherwise doesn't say anything while holding you. He is so warm, and his arms feel strong around you. Jake's hold on you doesn't waiver once while you cry. Only relaxing slightly when your sniffles and crying start to level out and you let go of his shirt. 

You take one more deep breath of him. Jake smells of a pleasant mix of his body wash, y'all's fabric softener, and his cologne. Letting the calming effect of the smell flood your system before letting go of your hold on him completely, only then does Jake let his arms slip away. 

Pulling away from the hug, you shyly look to see Jake's face. You find that he is already looking at you. For one of the first times since you met him, you don't like how Jake's face looks. There is a soft and sad demeanor that you see in his eyes. His eyebrows crease and his lips are pressed into a flat line. You feel embarrassment and shame flood you. The way that you just broke down and cried on your roommate, fully processing in your muddled tired head. 

"You're home," you eventually say, trying to break the ice and put a brave face back on. 

"Yeah, I'm not flying today. So, I had the time to come home for lunch."

"Sorry to interrupt." You say, looking down to examine your feet. 

"You didn't interrupt anything," Jake reassures you. He goes back to the kitchen, and you watch as he continues to cut ingredients for his salad.

"Do you want me to make you anything?" He asks.

"No, thank you. "You say not feeling even a little hungry. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jake asks next. 

"No, thank you," you say again and settle at the kitchen island to watch Jake cut the veggies and toss them in a big bowl. 

"Okay," he says. You like that Jake doesn't push you for things. He respects the boundaries you set and doesn't even try to toe up against them. 

"Am I allowed to know why you aren't flying today? I thought someone had broken in. Plus, I hardly recognize you out of a flight suit."

"You don't like these?" Jake asks, looking at the Navy camo print he is wearing as if this uniform suddenly offended him. 

"I didn't say that," you tell him, giving a small laugh. Obviously, Jake could make anything look good, even things that shouldn't. 

"Can't fly every day." He says with a shrug. "Also, I'm going through some maintenance stuff and checks with my sailors." 

You hum, but otherwise, don't comment watching Jake wash the knife and cutting board he had been using then. Then, after he drys them and puts them away, he turns back to you. 

"There isn't anything to be embarrassed about," he tries to venture lightly. 

"You don't come home and cry on me," you say, frowning. 

"You sure about that one?" He asks, shoving a mouthful of salad into his mouth. 

"Pretty sure that I would remember such an occasion." 

Jake just hums. One of those sounds that makes you feel like he doesn't actually agree. A few bites of his food later, he sets his bowl down. His green gaze is trialed on you, but then he glances at his watch, huffing in annoyance. 

There is a slight caving feeling inside you. You feel bad. How much of Jake's lunch have you taken up? You had never actually seen him come home for lunch before, so he must not get a long time. 

"I do all the time. Maybe just a bit less of the wet physical crying." Jake tells you, putting a container lid on his bowl.

"You could," you utter to him, a little embarrassed. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, wouldn't bother me if you ever needed to. You know. I'm here for you."

"Thank you, Darlin," Jake says. Then glances at his watch again. "I got ten minutes before I have to go. What would you like to do?"

"I'm fine," you tell him. "You should use that time to eat." 

"I'll munch while I'm doing some paperwork later."

That was a lie. You knew that Jake would never eat around paperwork. However, it was the kind of lie that settles warmly. It was one of those lies born with good intentions and made to be soothing. You could never be upset that he is even trying to comfort you at his own expense. 

"I don't want to talk about it, Jake." You reiterate again.  

"I know, and you don't have to. I won't ask again. However, if you ever decide that you do. I'm here for you too. Always." 

"Thank you, Jake. You're a really good roommate."

"I hope you can consider me a friend too?" 

"Of course, we are friends too," you reassure him. Jake's lips quirk upwards, his dimples flashing upon hearing that. 

"Now, I can't go back to work without seeing at least one smile." 

"That's a pretty tall order." 

"Well, they don't call me the best for nothing."

"Do they really call you the best or is that something you just tell people?" You ask him, mostly joking. Jake pretends to take offense, pressing his hand dramatically to his chest. 

"Ma'am, you wound me," Jake says, pouting. 

"I don't know. I think it is a pretty legitimate question." 

"I am the best." 

"And how do they determine that exactly? Who the best is." 

"Well, there are a lot of ways. Many different factors to consider." 

"Oh really?" 

"Yup. Also sorts of stuff, but they get us all together once a year, and we have a competition." 

"What kind of competition?"

"Only the elite members of the Navy participate. We all take turns sliding." 

"Sliding?" 

"Yup," Jake confirms, sounding one hundred percent serious. "We set up a huge slip and slide on the carrier runway. You only get three tries, and then we add them for scoring. I may have ripped off all the skin on my chest last year, but it was worth it to win." 

You can't help but let out a laugh. You picture Hangman competitively sliding down a yellow tarp that doesn't have enough water on it. It's such a silly concept you aren't sure where he came up with it. 

"Ahh there she is," Jake says with a broad smile. 

"I never would have thought that was a skill the Navy values." 

"Yes, Ma'am. It's actually the second part of the Naval academy mission," Jake tells you, still maintaining a serious tone despite his smile. Then Jake stands up straight to his full height in parade rest. 

"To develop Midshipmen morally, mentally and physically and to imbue them with the highest ideals of duty, honor and loyalty in order to graduate leaders who are dedicated to a career of naval service and have potential for future development in mind and character to assume the highest responsibilities of command, citizenship and government." Jake repeats dutifully and then adds. "In addition to putting these ideals to the test by hosting the world's most competitive slip and slide competition. Weirdly, people don't talk about that second part much." 

You only laugh harder, shaking your head at him. "Yeah, an absolute mystery. I can't believe that isn't common knowledge." 

Jake chuckles along with you. Then you two are interrupted by a timer going off from Jake's phone. He sighs and silents it. 

"I'm sorry. I've got to go, sugar. Are you going to be okay?" 

"Yeah. I promise I'm okay. Thank you, Jake." 

He bites his lip and nods at you going to put in his shoes and lace them back up. "Are you going to be home later?" 

"Yeah, I'll be home." 

"We could do something if you're feeling up for it. Or I can pick up takeout." 

"That's sweet, Jake, but you really don't have to." 

"I want to," he says with a shrug. Then checks his reflection in the mirror, making sure he is presentable to go back to work. After that, he turns back to you. 

"I'll think about it." You tell him before playfully shoving him out the door so he isn't late. You try not to melt when Jake gives you another hug. You catch his hand just before he is too out of reach.  

"Thank you, Jake. For making me smile."

"It's the prettiest thing I've seen all day," Jake says, squeezing your hand with his own. His words muddle your brain a little bit. You don't get to say anything else before he heads off to his truck, waving at you one more time and driving off. 

You also pretend you aren't screaming on the inside when Jake comes home from work that night with your favorite food and ice cream. The night feels easy and warm, sitting and eating with Jake. The events of that morning can't cross your mind while Jake tells you all about some of the weird contraband he found in the junior sailors' barracks that day. He is no less than spellbinding. 

🏡🧩🏡

Jake is sitting at the kitchen table when you get home from work. He is surrounded by neatly organized papers spread all along the table in various piles. Jake is wearing a button-down, tie, and slacks that make you do a triple-take on him.

"Welcome home," he says, glancing up from his laptop that is open in front of him. That's when you see he also has a pair of glasses on. 

"Thank you," you say, slowly making your way to the kitchen but still looking at him. 

"What are you working on there?" You ask. 

"Oh, I'm doing my taxes," Jake says while giving you one of his winning smiles. 

"Taxes?"

"Yes, Ma'am"

"I guess that makes sense," you say while looking around the kitchen for a snack. 

After a few minutes of silence, you decide to ask another question. "Do you have a date later?" 

You knew Jake dated. A man who looks like that has to date. However, you had yet to see him ever bring someone home, which felt odd considering everything about Jake, and the persona he liked to put on as Hangman.  

"No. What makes you ask that?" Jake asks you. 

"Oh. I don't know. You're dressed like you are going on a date."

"No, I'm not," he says, looking down at himself. 

You laugh at him and shrug. "If you say so."

"I would never wear this on a date," Jake mutters, clearly offended. 

"Well, then, why are you wearing it?"

"I'm doing taxes," he says again. 

"Yeah, we have covered that. What does that have to do with your clothes?"

"I'm dressed like an accountant," Jake tells you. You can't hold back your giggles at his phrasing and bring a hand up to your mouth to try and stifle them before giving up entirely. 

"What? What's so funny?" 

"Two things," you say, holding up two fingers, finally biting back your giggles. 

"One, the fact that you got dressed up to do your taxes. The second is that being an accountant is a euphemism for being a sex worker." Jake chuckles at your explanation but shrugs. 

"Well, Mrs. Celeste said I should always dress for the day. It helps you present your best self. If you dress the part, it helps you act that part." Jake says that like a well memorized and treasured quote. A saying he clearly remembered with much fondness.  

"And today is my tax day, so I am dressing like a tax professional. I will have you know. Since I started doing them myself, I have never had one problem with my taxes."

You couldn't help but chuckle more at his explanation and give him a fond smile. Sometimes the way Jake was so perfectly built and attuned for the military was endearing. Of course, a career Naval man would think a uniform was essential for each different activity. 

"So, are the glasses part of your tax uniform too?"  

He made a show of pushing the said glasses further up his nose. "Yes, Ma'am. They also are blue light blocking, which helps prevent migraines."

You nod along to his explanation. You finish putting together your snack and lean against the kitchen counter while munching on it. "Who is Mrs. Celeste? A teacher?"

Jake's lips flatten slightly before the expression relaxes just as quickly. "No, Mrs. Celeste is my Babula." 

"Your Grandmother?" You guess. 

"Yeah, sorry. My grandma, but she was strictly Mrs. Celeste growing up, only Babula occasionally." 

"I don't think I've met someone who calls their grandparent by their first name."

"Well, not really her first name. You have to be respectful and throw the Miss in there with it. She is a very particular lady."

"Is it a southern thing?"

"Yeah, maybe," he says with a small laugh. The edges of his lips quirk up, and you have to look away from Jake to distract yourself. It is easy to fall into the trap of how beautiful he is, with the sparkle he can get in his eyes. Or how even the smallest of his smiles makes you want to grin back. 

"So, how are the taxes?" 

"Oh, it's good. I'm almost finished up."

"Awesome, congrats Jake."

"Have you done yours?" He asks you. 

You shake your head and roll your eyes at the idea. "No, I definitely haven't."

"But you got your W2s in the mail last week."

"Jake, are you snooping through my mail?"

He raises both his hands up in defense. "No, I'm not! W2s just have a very particular look." 

"I'm just kidding. I know you wouldn't snoop through my mail. Yeah, I got them, but I've been busy. I guess I should make a Tax Masters appointment or something."

That crease in between Jake's eyebrows appears, the one that haunts you, that you pretend you don't obsess over. Followed by a small frown.

"Tax Master?" He asks, clearly appalled. You shrug back at him, not entirely seeing the issue. 

"I could do them for you," Jake says, then quickly adds on. "I mean, I can help you do them. If you have the time. I'm already dressed for it, and I won't charge you or anything."

"Oh no, Jake, that is so sweet, but I can't ask you to do that."

"No, really, I wouldn't mind. I think it would be fun. Plus, then you will have it done, and you won't have to worry about it." 

"Really, thank you so much, but it's fine." 

Jake's frown deepens at your answer, and he seems almost genuinely upset at your denial of his help. The warm feeling in your chest likes to flip over and grow a little bit more each time he is too sweet in moments like these. 

"You know Javy warned me that you were an asshole when I was going to move in. However, you have not once lived up to that. You could stand to be less nice to me, Jake." You tell him. You mean it to come off as almost flirty and a bit of a joke. However, it doesn't seem to land with him that way. 

The change that comes over Jake isn't something entirely tangible. It is almost like a shift in the air around him rather than anything physical. The way Jake looks at you just feels heavier and more charged. The confidence he always exudes seems to double with how he sits up just the smallest bit straighter but then leans back against his chair casually. 

"Go get your W2s." He tells you in a perfectly level tone, but it has a demanding edge. 

"Jake," you start to say and roll your eyes at him. 

"Nope," Jake says, popping the p. His voice takes on a lower candace, leaving no room for arguments. "I'm not giving you a choice. We are going to do your taxes." 

"No, we aren't doing my taxes." 

"Yes, I am. I can't be caught not living up to my reputation. So, I'm not going to be nice and accept that you don't want to. This is one of the few situations I won't take no for an answer." 

"It was just a joke." 

"No, it wasn't," Jake says, giving you a small shrug. You can't tell if he is actually hurt by how he is acting, but you suspect some part of him was twinged at his best friend's description. 

"It really was, Jake. Javy adores and trusts you. I'm sure he never would have suggested me moving in with you if he actually thought you were an asshole." 

"I know I'm an asshole. It's fine, sugar, don't worry. I'm not going to tattle on you telling me that to Coyote."

"You aren't an ass, though. That was my whole point."

Jake just shook his head at your answer. "I am one, and I don't want that to be a surprise when you inevitably witness it." 

You aren't sure how to respond to that, so you are relieved when Jake changes the topic. "Now, get your tax stuff, so it doesn't take us all night."

"Okay," you sigh, giving in to defeat. Jake gives you a mega-watt smile, and looks back at his computer screen. 

As you are walking up the stairs, you hear him yell across the house. "Dress like your best accountant self!"

"I won't be doing that," you yell back. 

"Please! It's important." Jake yells back.

When you are in your room getting all your stuff and paperwork pilled together. You find yourself opening your closet and pulling out an outfit that you could imagine wearing if you were an accountant.

You also spend several minutes too long wondering what would happen if you went back downstairs in the most provocative lingerie you own. After all, Jake didn't specify which type of accountant to dress up as. You wondered if it would be tempting to Jake. Could you provoke him into falling into lust with you? Tempt him enough that he took you on the dining room table on top of all the Tax paperwork? Jake has expressed attraction to women before, so there must be at least some part of him that is at least a little attracted to you. 

You smash down your thirsty thoughts and try to screw your head back on straight before it can drift too much off on track. When you get back downstairs, Jake is still at the table. You dump all your stuff on an empty spot there. 

Jake looks up from his computer and smiles at you, quirking an eyebrow. Then, Jake speaks to you teasingly, "And here I thought you might dress up as the other type of accountant you were telling me about." 

Your brain has no choice but to start short-circuiting, and you open and close your mouth twice. Jake starts shuffling through your paperwork, looking at what you have brought him. 

"I ordered us some pizza too," he says before you get out a proper response or say anything teasing back to him. 

"Yum. I'm excited," you tell him sliding into a seat and opening up your own laptop. 

He stops his shuffling and examination of the papers to level you with a serious look. "Thank you for indulging me, by the way." 

"Anything for you, Jake," you tell him and mean it. Unfortunately, the way you feel about your roommate is rapidly spiraling out of the tight control you tried to keep it in. 

"I like when we do fun things like this together," Jake says to you, grinning. 

"Me too," you tell him. Then add, "Only you would find taxes fun, though, Hangman."

"I am about to show you just how fun taxes can be and how you can get a great return," Jake says, taking your words in stride. 

Jake does your taxes almost entirely by himself, only asking occasional questions. He also then organizes all of your paperwork in an extra accordion binder he has. The taxes aren't fun, but spending time with Jake is.  

"Thank you," you say to Jake daring to press a soft, affectionate kiss to his cheek. You linger for a moment, the prickle of his end-of-day stubble ticking your lips, but you don't mind it.  When you pull back to gauge his reaction, Jake looks almost pained and upset. You worry for a moment that even just a cheek kiss could make him react this way. You briefly thank god you didn't actually try to seduce him earlier. 

"Always, anytime." He finally says. However, Jake is now glaring down at his keyboard and not looking at you. 

"I hope it wasn't too much trouble," you venture, confused by this mood shift. 

"Sugar?"

"Yes, Jake?" 

"I don't think you should pay so much rent." 

"What?"

"Listen," he runs a hand through his hair, pushing it all out of sorts. "I just don't think it's fair for you to pay so much."

"Of course, it's fair. I live here," you explain. 

"Yeah, but no. I get BAH, and I don't have any student loans from school. Plus, the Navy pays me plenty as an officer. I was paying for this place all alone before you moved in anyways."

"I'm not going to pay less rent because you saw my financials and feel bad." You tell Jake quietly, trying not to actively become upset. 

"Please don't be so stubborn," he pleads with you. 

You cross your arms over your chest, "Take your own advice."

"I'm the one being stubborn?" 

"Yes! You are. You are the most stubborn man I have ever met."

Jake's frown deepens, and that sad look in his eyes at your words starts to break through to you. Then he responds, "I'm sorry. I guess I'll try and work on that." 

Jake starts meticulously putting things away into different folders. He moves through each of his piles on the table and doesn't spare you a second glance. It leaves a crushing feeling in your chest. 

"I'm sorry for snapping at you." 

"There is no need to apologize. I'm the one who is sorry." Jake says, shrugging off your apology. 

"No, you don't need to apologize. I understand why you said what you did. I know you were trying to be sweet." You start to say but are cut off. 

"I wasn't trying to be sweet."

"Oh my god. Okay, fine, trying to be nice, then," you say, rolling your eyes. 

Jake sets down the folder he is currently holding, and it thumps a little bit on the table. The force and loud sound make you flinch. 

"I'm not sweet, nice, good, or kind. Okay? I'm not any of those things. I call things how I see them. I look at facts, figures, and numbers. Then I run calculations and act accordingly."

"And how is it mathematically possible that me paying less rent possibly works out for you, Jake? You will be losing money." As he shakes his head, he huffs at your words a little bit like they are funny. 

"You could do a lot and make a lot of gains if you paid less rent, and I don't mind picking up the extra amount. You might be one of the few people I haven't hated living with. I don't want you figuring out you need to live somewhere cheaper and moving out on me. So, I'm not being nice. I'm being a selfish asshole." Jake clenches his fists hard, and you see his knuckles start to turn paler. With a deep breath, he relaxes and shrugs. Loosening the tight coil of his muscles, Jake gives you a curt tight lipped smile with a nod. "I'm just a selfish asshole, okay?"

"Please stop. Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true," he says, rolling those beautiful eyes at you. 

"It's not true. Also, I would prefer if you don't use the word selfish around me, please." You say in a surprisingly steady voice. You don't really want to get triggered right now, and you could only hope that you wouldn't have to explain triggers to Jake. It takes him one moment to think and another to process before he says anything. 

"Oh fuck. I'm so sorry. I won't use it again." Jake promises, no questions asked. His words blow up a balloon in your diaphragm, making it feel like your breath is about to catch. Then he adds on, "If there are any other words…" He looks around and grabs a loose pen and one of his notebooks. Jake slides them across the table to you. "Write them down. Maybe? If you can." 

The warmth Jake inspires in your chest is unparalleled and drowns out anything you can think of aside from how endearing he can be and how fond you are of him. Jake doesn't take the lack of response from you well.  

"I'm sorry," he apologizes again. You spring from where you had been sitting, walking slowly and deliberately toward him. You make sure to give him plenty of time to protest and say something. 

Jake looks steadily back at you. However, he looks like he is preparing himself to be slapped or punished, holding perfectly still. Instead, though, you wrap Jake in a tight hug. He is stiff as a board beneath you. After a long moment, as you consider pulling away, Jake relaxes and wraps his arms around you. They are wrapped loosely at first but then tighten in small intervals until Jake is practically clinging to you. 

"You are so good," you whisper to him, a little dazed. You are almost stunned by how desperately Jake tries to pretend otherwise. 

"Don't say that," Jake whispers in a broken voice, hugging you a bit tighter. 

"Too good." You left the words for me unsaid, but you felt them. 

"I'm really not."

"It's okay if you don't see it. I see it for you. I'll make sure everyone else sees, too," you tell Jake curling your hands into a fist in his shirt. 

He doesn't say anything but keeps holding you tightly. You don't know how long the two of you stay embraced like that until Jake finally eases his grip on you, and you reluctantly pull away from him as well. 

He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Please stop paying so much in rent," he requests again. 

"That will not be happening, Hangman."

"So stubborn." He sighs. Jake kisses your forehead again. He leaves his lips lingering, and you start to count the breaths memorizing how warm his lips are. Three breaths later, he is pulling away. Jake grabs his laptop and a stack of folders heading upstairs without another word to you. 

You stare after him for a while, trying to parse out the mystery Jake presents, and coming up a bit short, just like you always did. He is one of the most outwardly confident men you have ever met. Yet, other times, Jake is the first person to make a self-deprecating comment about himself. You swallow down how much you desire more from him, wishing for more, knowing you can't and shouldn't have it.  

🏡🧩🏡

You and Jake were lounging on the couch. He was scrolling on his phone, avoiding going to the gym, half-heartedly trying to convince you to go with him. You were also scrolling your phone while deflecting Jake’s offers. 

That was when your doorbell rang, followed by heavy knocking. You and Jake both look up at each other. He raises his eyebrows, and you just shrug, having no idea who could be at the door. Jake looks back to his phone, clearly ready to ignore it, when the doorbell rings twice more, and the pounding on the door gets louder. Jake sighs and gets up, walking across the house towards the noise. 

“Hold your horses out there!” Jake yells towards the door before opening it. 

You wait for a moment, trying to hear who it is, curious about who would be so rude and what they needed. However, you don’t hear anything from where you are on the couch. So you stand and follow Jake into the entry hallway. 

“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” You hear Jake say. He is standing at his full height in the door frame. 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” You hear from on the other side of the door. 

Nervousness shoots through your whole body hearing that voice. Anxiety immediately pops up, and your stomach drops. You know that voice. You have heard it a thousand times before. Why was he here? How was he here? 

“I asked you to leave, Sir.”

“Just tell that little bitch that —”

Jake steps further forward onto the front porch. “Now, we don’t speak about ladies like that where I am from. And I’m going to ask that you act accordingly while at my home, Sir.” Jake cuts him off with that well mannered southern military niceness. 

“I don’t give a fuck where you are from.”

You flinch at his tone of voice, feeling bile rise up in your throat. You lean against the wall slapping your hand over your mouth, trying to prevent yourself from throwing up. 

“I asked you politely to leave. I won’t ask again. I can call you a taxi or an uber. But don’t you dare take one more step on my front porch.” Jake says in a deep tone. You are hit with the sudden, horrifying realization that he is going to hurt Jake, and that is something you just won’t let happen. 

You are trying to go through possibilities in your head. Anyway, this could shake out; it would be bad for Jake. Jake would either get hurt and get in trouble, or he would kick ass and gets in worse trouble. This would end badly; either way, Jake is going to get in trouble, and it would be your fault. You would be responsible because you caused this situation. Jake was going to pay the consequences all because he was trying to protect you. You were roommates, so Jake must think he has some obligation to protect you. 

You feel swamped in stress knowing how easily Jake can escalate a situation and provoke someone; sometimes, all it takes for him is one well-placed smile. That stress is finally what unfreezes you, and you stumble towards the front door. 

Jake’s large, broad form still mostly hides your view of the other side, but you cautiously approach and set your hand gently on the back of his shoulder. You feel how tense Jake’s muscles are under your hand and can see it in the line of the back of his neck. 

“Sugar, I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Jake says in a deep voice. He doesn’t budge an inch or look back toward you. “But I would like to suggest that you go back inside. I have this handled.” 

You want to cry. You want to cry for so many reasons: cry because you are in this situation, that you have to deal with this again, that you feel so small. However, you mostly want to cry because Jake “Hangman” Seresin is such a good man. It’s startling sometimes, not because it’s really unexpected, but rather that it is so completely and bluntly genuine. 

Having Jake here defending you, trying to protect you from the person who has probably scared you most in your life, it feels so silly to pretend like you don’t have feelings for him, to pretend that you aren’t more in love with him than you ought to be.

The realization doesn’t really feel shocking; it is closer to acceptance. A given truth that is part of your life now. An empowering truth that swells in your bones like a swift tide, filling up the spaces that have been empty for so long. 

You love Jake more than you are scared. The warmth of affection towards him is so hot it burns out the freezing ice in your veins and the numbness in your fingers. You love him, and you will be damned if you let Jake be hurt, touched, tainted, or affected by this man who has hurt you. It seems cliché that loving someone like this is enough for you to finally break through the barrier of fear you have lived your whole life in. However, now it just feels so simple. 

Your heart is beating hard. The adrenaline is pumping through you so strongly that you can hear it echoing in your ears. Your hand slides up Jake’s back to his bicep, and you give him a gentle push. Jake shifts with the movement. He slides to the right so you can finally fully see the front porch. However, he doesn’t move enough that you are fully exposed. Jake’s body is still partially concealing you from view. 

Then you hear your name, and your attention snaps away from its hyper-focus on Jake. You turn it forward and brace yourself. You drift your eyes to the ground, landing on the feet of your visitor, staying there for a minute before meeting his burning eyes. 

“Hello, Dad.” 

“Ah, so she is here,” your father says, throwing his hands up and glaring at Jake. You can smell the booze on him from the doorway. It makes your stomach turn. You resist the urge to wretch, squeezing your hand, which is still on Jake’s bicep. He flexes, and his bicep digs into his shirt as your nails also dig in. You don’t like those angry, hateful eyes on your Jake. Jake doesn’t budge an inch or react to your nails on his skin.

“What are you doing here, Dad?” You ask him. Your hold on Jake acting like an anchor point for you. 

“You don’t bother to answer my texts or anyone else’s calls and texts. Just because you moved out doesn’t mean you get to be a selfish bitch” your dad spits out. 

“I’ve been pretty busy,” you defend yourself in a small voice.  

“Oh, I bet you have been so busy. What are you doing these days?” He growls at you. “You know it doesn’t really count as moving out if you are spreading your legs to pay for it.” 

You flinch, your hand falling from Jake’s arm and balling into a tight fist at your side. You hate how easily he can make you feel small, even when you are angry. 

“Watch your mouth,” Jake hisses, rejoining the conversation. You glance at him, and Hangman is shaking with contained rage. You know this is not a good situation; anytime, someone could blow up. 

“You should go inside, Hangman,” you tell him gently. 

“Absolutely not,” Jake responds instantly. 

“So you are playing the part of a pathetic little whore wife for this pretty boy.” Your dad says, cutting in. 

You grit your teeth as he continues on. “Come on. I thought you gave up pussies after our talk when you were in high school.” 

With the reminder of just what he is referring to, You are overcome with anger, and you finally can’t take it anymore. You recognize his words for what they are, a direct bait at Jake and undercutting you. It makes you so angry you start shaking. Tears burst from your eyes, trying to let off some steam bubbling inside you. It boils up, so you can’t take it anymore, and you whisper, “Shut up.” 

“What?” Your dad asks, clearly shocked. You take a step forward fueled by your anger. 

“Shut the fuck up.” You pronounce each word slowly. Then continue on, “I’m tired of this. You don’t get to be mean to me and still expect a relationship with me. You don’t get to hit me, yell at me, and abuse me just to show up at my house on your bullshit. And you sure as fuck don’t get to say anything about Jake.” You suck in a rapid breath, the words fueling the fire in you. Your angerburning brighter with every word. 

“You made me think that kind, decent men didn’t exist, Dad, but Jake is good. He isn’t a pretty boy. He is smart, sweet, strong, and kind. I will not hear you say one more thing about him. Ever.” You punctuate the sentence with a jab of your index finger at him. He looks like he might be cowed, and before you can even finish a prayer that he will be done, the fire in his eyes lits again. 

“You could have at least found someone who stands up for you. A real man.” Your dad isn’t even looking at you when he says it. Instead, he is staring at Jake. 

“That’s a rather rude thing to say about an active duty Naval Officer,” you hiss. Your dad takes a step back, his eyebrows raising, reexamining Jake. He shifts his weight between his feet nervously. 

“You aren’t welcome at our home. So leave and crawl back into the bottle you drank before coming here. Don’t come back, Dad. I don’t want to see you.” 

You try to force your body to relax, but the adrenaline is still pumping hard in your veins. So, you start to walk backward back into the house. Jake still hasn’t taken his eyes off your dad, and he makes no move to come with you back into the house. 

“Jake?” You ask. 

“Just give me a minute, sweetheart. I need to have a talk with your old man here and make sure that he makes it home.”

“I don’t want him near you.” 

Your dad still looks blown away by this turn of events. Like he is scrambling to put words together. He keeps looking back and forth between you and Jake. 

Jake breathes out heavily through his nose. He turns his head enough to glance at you. Whatever he sees on your face must break his resolve. Jake clenches his jaw, and you watch the muscle flex once, then twice. After that, he rolls his shoulders, and it’s like Hangman is physically able to just shrug the tension of the situation off. 

“Get home safe, Sir. I suggest doing so soon. MAs are known to drive down our street.” Jake says it in a light, easygoing tone, border lining on cheery. Then, plastering that practiced, perfect smile on his face, Jake nods his head toward your dad and comes back into the house. 

Jake closes the door but doesn’t move, staring out the frosted window on the front door. His body is tense again, standing rigidly at his full height. You are still shaking from anger. You slump against Jake’s back, letting your body weight shift into his. One of his arms bends backward a bit awkwardly, sitting on your waist. His large palm is burning hot. You can feel it through the fabric of your clothes. Then Jake’s fingers flex to give you a small squeeze of reassurance. 

When Jake finally does move, it is just to turn away from the door and wrap you tightly in his arms. You enjoy the warmth of his strong embrace, feeling exhausted as the adrenaline starts to fade. Jake is still shaking, though. 

“He’s gone,” Jake says into the crown of your head. You let a little sigh escape you, feeling a bit more of the tension release. 

“Good,” you manage to tell him. 

“I wanted to defend you. I wanted to slam his face so hard into the porch that he wouldn’t ever be able to open his mouth again. Wanted to tell him how you are—”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you cut Jake off before he can continue. You don’t want to know what he thinks about you right now. You can’t handle whatever words could spill out of his mouth next. 

“I’ll make sure he never comes back here,” Jake says, his voice dropping, and you feel the rage contained in him, the subtle shake and heat coming from how tense he is. 

“I don’t want him near you. If something happened to you because of him….” you trail off. Your hands wander the expanse of Jake’s back in an almost soothing motion. However, you don’t know who it is soothing more, you or him. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

He takes a deep breath and then releases it in a heavy sigh. “What if you just give me his full name and social security number? You wouldn’t have to know about anything else.”

“Jake,” you whisper in a tone that is almost reminiscent of amusement. 

Jake sighs again. He draws back from your hug and cups your face. He swipes his thumb across your cheekbone, wiping away the tears that have been lingering. 

“You are the kindest, most compassionate person I have ever met,” Jake whispers. Considering how he is looking at you with a glimmer in his eyes, it’s clear the emotions of the situation are still running rampant. That look, paired with how he is holding you, makes you think Jake might be about to kiss you.  

“No, No. Stop.” You don’t know if you are trying to ask him not to kiss you or to stop talking. Either way, you feel like you might explode if this interaction isn’t over soon. 

“Yes,” Jake says. “Let me, please.” 

His thumb is still tracing along your cheek, and you can’t help yourself from leaning a tiny bit into his palm. An action that momentarily freezes his thumb before it picks up steadily again. Not hearing an explicit no from you again, Jake continues on. 

“That man has no say over you. Who you are is so stunning. You never deserved to be treated the way you were. I am so sorry you ever had to go through that. I am so sorry he showed up here. You don’t owe him a single second of your time or attention. You are valuable. You are amazing. He is trying to make you small because he sees how good you are.” 

A shudder racks through your body, hearing Jake’s words, and fresh tears start to fall unprompted from your eyes. As soon as they do, though, Jake pushes them away. “I am so proud of you for getting away from him. You are so strong and brave. It makes me awed. I’m so glad that you moved in here. You are…” Jake doesn’t finish the sentence, he seems to lose his train of thought. His mouth parts a little bit, and his eyes flash down to glance at your lips. 

Jake is going to kiss you, and it might possibly be the worst thing that could happen. If he kisses you right now because of your dad, you know you might break into a million different pieces. You don’t want Jake to kiss you for any reason but pure desire and affection. You don’t want him to kiss you in comfort, or pity, or convenience, or as an outlet. You don’t want him to kiss you just because emotions are running high from the incident that just happened. Most of all, you don’t want Jake to kiss you and not mean it. You don’t want him to kiss you without the intention of kissing you again. 

So, even though you are desperate to feel his lips, and memorize their shape, how they feel against yours. Desperate to discover what he tastes like, curl your fingers in his hair and take comfort in the form of his body. You know you can’t, it has the power to break you, and you already feel so broken and exhausted. 

You cover the hand Jake has on your face with your own and pull it away. However, you don’t immediately let go holding his large palm. Hangman takes your hint and steps backward, giving you a little space so that he is pressed against the door again. You decide to thread your fingers with his. Jake’s skin is still almost hot to the touch in your hand.

“Thank you, Jake,” You finally say, meeting his piercing green eyes again. You squeeze the hand you are holding. He gives you a tight nod and then tips his head upwards, so he is looking at the ceiling. Jake rests his head against the door as well and closes his eyes. 

You observe him for a moment, then you go to release the hand you are holding. Jake stops you, though, his hand tightening as yours loosens, and you try to pull away. You give a little tug, and he tightens his fingers even more. Jake’s head is still tipped, and you hear him sucking in a deep breath before blowing it out.

 “Please don’t let go,” he begs you. Jake’s eyes flash open again, and he is looking down his nose at you. “I just, I need you.”

You inhale sharply at his phrasing, and he sighs heavily. “I might do something terrible if you let go of me. If you don’t need me here, there won’t be anything to stop me.” 

“You’re not going to do anything terrible,” You say, retangling your fingers with his. Jake’s hand flexes in yours, and he takes another big breath. 

“I’ll make sure he loses our address and forgets it too. Make sure he doesn’t remember anything at all anymore. I’ll—”

“You’ll stay right here, Jake.”

He lifts his head so it isn’t tilted against the door anymore and stares down at you. He looks like he is holding on to every word you are saying to keep his sanity. His skin is flushed from anger, and his palm shakes slightly in yours. You were in awe he was able to hold back this reaction so long, remaining calm and collected throughout the entire encounter. 

“You will stay here with me, Jake. I need you.” 

“Yeah?” He asks shakily. 

“Yeah. Need your help, Jake.”

There is a low rumble in his chest, almost resembling the hum it was probably supposed to be. You step closer to Jake, once again closing the gap between you.

“Tell me what you need.” It comes out as a demand, and he seems to realize that when he adds on a small quick “Please.”

You look at him then, trying to read his face and those eyes that haunt your dreams. You examine the creases and lines his face makes with the severe angry look he has plastered on. You take the time to observe how his hair is hazardously falling out of place for how many times he has run his hand through it. You don’t really find any of the answers you are looking for. You just find Jake. And Jake is an oh-so-wondrous thing to find. 

You step closer to him and tug the hold he has on your hand again. His nose scrunches for a moment, and his frown tightens. His eyes lift upwards towards the ceiling again as his jaw clenches; he lets go of your hand. Jake’s hand falls heavily back until it hits the door making a smacking sound. You flinch at the sound but take another step forward, crowding Jake against the door. You lift your hand up to trace over his neck and then settle on his face, encouraging him to adjust his gaze back to you. He follows direction and leans into your hold, just like you leaned into his earlier. 

“Need you to stay with me,” you start slowly, encouraged as Jake nods his head in a small jerk. 

“I need you to leave the front door.” 

He considers your words for a moment, then shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do that. I’m sorry, sugar. I need to protect you.” 

“There is no one in the world I feel safer with than you, Jake.” He squeezes his eyes tightly closed at those words and pulls in a ragged breath. “So, you can’t leave me alone here.”

He nods again but still has his eyes closed. “Ain’t leaving. You need me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Can I hold you?” Jake asks, then once again remembers his manners throwing out another small, please. 

“Yes, please,” you whisper. Jake doesn’t waste a moment before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you snuggly against him. The change of angle causes your hand to slip from his face, so you wrap it around his neck instead, your fingers drifting against the short hairs there. You go to wrap your other arm around his waist but instead awkwardly hit the front door. You hiss out a small breath at the momentary pain. 

Jake responds to the sound. He starts walking forward, making you walk backward. Walking while he is wrapped around you proves to be difficult, and you stumble a little. That seems to be all Jake needs; he wraps his arms under your ass and lifts you. 

You are terrified at the concept that Jake is going to try to carry you, and you open your mouth to protest. However, with only one small grunt that honestly sounded more like pure sex with how low and husky it is, Jake is carrying you down the hallway. You wrap your arm around his neck more securely, adding a second one for more leverage. 

Jake doesn’t stop to set you on the couch like you had expected. Instead, he continues up the stairs and right into his room. He sets you on his bed gently, and you unwrap your arms from his neck, letting him pull away. Jake goes back to the door of his room, closes it, and clicks the lock into place. You raise an eyebrow at his action.

"That’s rather presumptuous, Hangman.” 

“What?” He looks at you confused before he looks back at his door. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I wasn’t, I’m not.”

You shush him motioning towards yourself to try and get him to come closer again. “I know.” 

Jake comes back to your side. Now that you have been given the temporary clearance to freely touch him, you cannot stop yourself. Jake sits next to you on the bed, and you are scooting closer so that your thighs are flush side by side. Jake throws an arm across your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. 

“Do you need to talk about it?” He asks you softly. You let a hollow dry laugh at his question, your laughter starts to devolve until it’s nearly hysteric giggling. Jake takes it in stride, holding you close and his thumb drawing small soothing back-and-forth shapes. After you are almost breathless and heaving, you finally start to recover. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, but I definitely need to. Not with you, though, Jake.”

“Why not me?”

“Because it’s the kind of fucked you talk to a therapist about.”

“I’m a great listener.”

“I know you are, but this isn’t your baggage to pack around and deal with, Jake.”

“Baggage? Sugar, that’s why we have the attic. If that isn’t enough space, or you fill it up. I’ll build a shed in the backyard.”

“What if that’s not enough room?”

“Then we have the garage. We’ll just park in the driveway.”

“You would give up your shop?” You ask, thinking of Jake’s favorite place in the house. 

“Yup,” Jake says without hesitating. “And after that, well, I’ve never been too fond of the extra guest room anyway.” 

“If that’s all not enough?”

“Then we’ll move. Or we go through it until we find some we can let go of.” Jake says, his free hand crossing his body to settle warmly on your knee. 

“It’s not physical baggage.”

“I know it’s not.” 

The feeling of affection you feel for him grows even more. Every time you think that there is no way possible you can fall further in love with him, Jake turns around and proves you wrong. He does some kind, funny, sweet, unexpected thing that makes you fall a little harder. 

You lift your head and look at him. Jake’s eyes meet your own, the severe stormy look in them a little less present. He is a bit more at ease, no longer shaking with anger. You let your eyes fall to his lips. You briefly think you love him so much it might be worth the risk to shift forward and kiss him. That maybe it wouldn’t lead to disaster like you’ve convinced yourself it would.

“What’s your favorite comfort movie?” Jake asks, breaking you from your trance. You shift a bit further away from him but not far before giving him an answer. 

The two of you watch your favorite comfort movie. You are cuddled into Jake’s side the whole time. The two of you had shifted back into the bed, cuddled close while watching the wall-mounted TV in Jake’s room. Exhaustion hits you like a wall as the adrenaline leaves your system, accompanied by the heat radiating off of Jake, the way everything smells like him, and his Tempurpedic bed; you relax more than you have in a long time. 

As you start to drift asleep against Jake’s chest, his heartbeat has a steady, soothing rhythm under your ear. You think out of all the times you have dreamed of falling asleep with Jake in his bed, none of those fantasies come even close to how good it actually feels. None of your dreams prepared you for how safe you would feel.

Your dreams also didn’t prepare you for sneaking back to your room at three in the morning when you woke up. Or pretending the next day that nothing had happened. After all, nothing had happened except some tense moments and Jake getting a glimpse of your past. You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t, either. You catch him watching you closer than he would typically for the next few days. 

More time starts to pass, and you are thankful that nothing was risked or changed between you and Jake or has affected you as roommates. There are only the slightest moments when both of you are much more casual about physical affection. Hugging Jake was now a commonplace part of your day, and you occasionally catch yourself daydreaming about what it felt like to fall asleep in his bed. 

🏡🧩🏡

You had started to pick up what the signs were when Jake wasn't okay, and something was bothering him pretty early into moving in. He had some pretty obvious tells. However, something had been really really bothering him for a while now. He didn't say anything to you, but he didn't have to; Jake's mannerisms gave him away. Jake wasn't following his routine and had started obsessively cleaning.

The other night, he knocked on your door, bursting open seconds after you told Jake he could come in. Then Hangman had all but begged you to let him deep clean your room. When you told Jake no, he gave you a look like you just insulted his Babula and stalked out of the room. Half an hour later, he was back in your doorway, asking the same question phrased slightly differently. You had finally given in after his second time double-checking. However, you insisted that you helped and supervised his cleaning. Once you agreed, Jake had done his happy dance. It was so cute it managed to cover the embarrassment that was crawling in you at letting someone else, let alone the man you loved your roommate, clean your room. 

The next day Hangman decided to reorganize all the bookshelves. First by color, then by genre, and even one time by the number of pages. His last reorganization was to put them all back to by author's last name. This was only after Jake talked to you for over an hour about the pros and cons of the Dewey decimal system in modern library science. 

After the books, you come home, and there is a puzzle on the table. A 2500-piece puzzle of the painting Meeting On The Turret Stairs. Jake works on it constantly. Only stopping to go to work and the gym. For three days, he doesn't read and doesn't do his sudoku. Jake doesn't sit with you in the living room at night. Instead, he just works on his puzzle, blowing past his typical bedtime every night. Then he stops going to the gym, and a day after that, he cancels his weekly call with his niece. That's when you know without a shadow of a doubt that whatever is bothering Jake must be significant. 

Finally, you can't bite your tongue or try to keep your nose out of his business anymore. The concern you feel is too much to handle. You had gotten up at 3 am for some water, and Jake was still puzzling at the table. 

"How's it going, Sport?"

"No, I'm Hangman," Jake answers in a quiet voice. 

"What?" you ask him, confused. 

"Not my callsign," Jake mumbles to you. You squint and try to piece together what he means in your still half-asleep brain. 

"You know someone named Sport?"

Jake just shrugs his shoulders, engrossed in his task. "There are worse callsigns to have." 

"Like Hangman?" You tease him. Jake finally looks up at you when you say that. Jake's eyes are bloodshot, and he has a hurt look. The small frown, paired with his glassy tired eyes, makes you feel like you just kicked a puppy. 

"Hangman is cool," Jake protests. 

"Hangman is very cool," you tell him placatingly, holding up your hands in surrender. 

 "You don't actually think it's cool," Jake whispers, his tired eyes falling back to his puzzle. Jake sounds so sad about it that your feet are moving before your brain, and you are sliding next to him on the bench for the long side of the table.

"Hangman is cool," You say and then nudge him affectionately with your shoulder. "You are cool." 

His lips quirk upwards from his frown before falling again. “Well, I am the Hangman.” 

"How is the puzzle going?"

"Fine, good. I like puzzling."

"You have done other puzzles?" You ask. 

"Yeah, I have a whole box full."

You hum at his words, tiredly wiping your eyes. "You should have been Puzzleman." 

Jake's eyes flash over to yours, slightly worried. "Do not ever say that around Coyote." 

"Hangman, It's three AM." He looks surprised to hear the time, and you watch him turn his wrist to confirm the time on his watch.

"Go to bed," You add softly. 

"I like when you call me Jake." 

"Then why do you listen better when I call you Hangman?" 

"Hmm, maybe because that's the name I hear most often. Maybe because it's easy to be Hangman."

"Is it hard to be Jake?" You ask him gently. 

Jake is quiet for a long moment after your question. Before answering, he sets the piece he had been holding back in its color pile. All he gives you is a whispered, "Sometimes."

You aren't sure what to say, so instead, you put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it. "It's time for bed, Jake. It'll be here in the morning." 

Jake nods his head, listening to you. You get the water you initially came downstairs for and wait until Jake starts up the stairs. Following behind him, you make sure he goes into his room. You aren't really eased about the situation when he shuts the door. However, you are glad he will at least get some sleep. 

Before you go back to bed, you shoot your group chat with Marlee and Javy a text. 

Have you ever seen Jake do a puzzle?

You wake up to texts from Javy and Marlee, both asking all kinds of questions like: what you meant? What kind of puzzle? With how many pieces? And, how long has Jake been working on it?  

From the questions alone, you gather that your worries are correct and Jake puzzling is not a good thing. Getting out of bed, you make yourself presentable enough to venture out of your room and downstairs. 

In the mid-morning light, you are once again greeted with the sight of Jake hunched over his puzzle. A steaming cup of tea sitting next to him, and Chris LeDoux playing from the record player. 

"Good morning," you say. 

"Morning, sugar," Jake says back. You are glad to get a response, but the worry is still gnawing at you. You start putting together your own morning drink, and your eyes keep drifting back to him. 

"Jake, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He says, not looking away from the puzzle piece he is currently studying. 

You stop leaning against the counter, taking your drink with you and walk over to his side. Jake is completing this puzzle concerningly fast; you notice examining his progress this morning alone. He keeps staring at the piece in his hand, unblinking even as you approach. You watch him for a few more moments before deciding it's time for you to intervene. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" You pose cautiously. His eyebrows crease, and he still doesn't look away from the puzzle. 

"About the puzzle?" he asks you in a hopeful tone. 

"No, Jake. About what's bothering you." 

He finally does spare you a glance, and you don't like how dull his green sea glass eyes are. The normally vibrant, mischievous glint isn't present, and they are slightly bloodshot and red, even after you forced him to get some sleep. 

"It's fine. I'm fine. Just work stuff. I've got to finish this puzzle." He tells you, then looks away. 

You frown at Jake's answer. Puzzles are supposed to be fun, and you don't think this is actually a healthy, cathartic activity for Jake anymore. You almost preferred his book reorganization or when he went to every door and oiled the hinges, the top and bottom hinges twice but the middle ones only once. When you asked why not the middle one twice? Jake had told you something about middle children that had made you laugh. 

While Jake normally released stress through organization, order, and control. The frenzy and energy he has with this puzzle is different. This wasn't like the month after you moved in, and he decided to rearrange his shop in the garage. Jake had reorganized his tools, labeling where they all went. After that, he made you a booklet of where everything in the garage was located, just in case you wanted to use something. Jake was very genuine about it, too. As if he really believed you were about to start borrowing his screwdrivers, saws, wrenches, lathe, and various other tools. 

Your frown deepens, and you pull out your phone, shooting a text to your group chat with Marlee and Javy. Answering some of their questions from the morning and shooting back a request of your own. 

After texting with them for a few minutes, you set your phone down on the table, taking the spot next to Jake. He gives you another short look but doesn't say anything. You take a moment to look at the piece he has been staring at for over five minutes at this point. 

Taking it gently from his grasp, you examine it yourself. A moment later, you place the puzzle piece into the correct spot. Jake ghosts over the piece you just placed and taps it twice as your hand retreats. 

"You got to tap it into place," he tells you softly. Then Jake is back digging through his piles, looking for the next piece. 

You help Jake with his puzzle for a little bit, pleasantly surprised at the textured surface of the pieces, enjoying how tactile they are. You know this must be a very expensive and nice puzzle. Any time you place a piece, you make sure to tap it twice for Jake. Each time you do, Jake gives a small nod of approval. The one time you forget, his fingers quickly find the piece again and tap it twice with a small annoyed huff. You don't try and coax Jake into a conversation again, simply enjoying just being with him. 

Y'all's work is broken a while later by the doorbell ringing. The sound startles Jake, and he jumps in his seat and his head snapping towards the door. You place a hand on his shoulder again to try and ease the sudden tension.

 "It's okay," you tell him quietly, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze. "I'll go get it."

"No, I can get it," Jake says, starting to stand up. You know he doesn't like you to answer the front door anymore. He hasn't ever since your dad showed up unannounced. Jake has never explicitly told you he doesn't want you to answer the door. However, you have picked up on it because he has not let you answer the door once since the incident. One time Jake had even sprinted across the house to beat you to the door. 

"Don't worry. I know who it is," you say. Jake gives you a concerned look but then nods a little bit. His eyes trail after you as you make your way to the entry hall. 

You open the door to Javy's tall form and are immediately wrapped in a tight warm hug. You lean into his embrace, enjoying the comfort for a moment. 

"Is it really bad?" Javy asks you in a low voice when you pull away from his hug. 

You shrug but then follow it up with a nod. "Yeah. I mean, I don't know. Maybe not? But it's the worst I have ever seen." 

Javy gives you another reassuring squeeze before he saunters into the house towards the living area. Jake's eyes are trained on the hallway, clearly waiting for you to come back. However, when he sees Javy, he blanches, dropping his eyes back to the puzzle. Jake's shoulders hunching tight almost up to his ears. 

"Hey, Hangman," Javy hums. 

"Machado," Jake says gruffly, fiddling with a piece. 

Javy shocks you by not immediately going over to Jake. Instead, he meanders over to your TV. He shocks you even more by opening a drawer in the entertainment center and pulling out an Xbox. Javy starts hooking up the console, and you shift your eyes to Jake again. 

He is still sitting there digging through his puzzle pieces. You aren't sure what to do. If you should leave the two of them alone, join Javy in the living room, or go back to the table with Jake. So instead, you end up in a weird middle ground lingering in the hallway. Finally, when Javy has everything set up, and the Xbox booted on, he goes over to Jake. Coyote sets his hands down so hard on Jake's shoulders that it jostles the blond a bit. 

"Wow, buddy, this is a nice puzzle," Javy says casually. 

Jake just hums in response, placing a puzzle piece and tapping it twice. Only answering once he picks up another piece. "It's a watercolor by Frederic William Burton. He painted it in — "

"It's time for a break, Hangman," Coyote says, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

"Naw, you see this section," Jake gestures generally towards the entire surface area of the puzzle. "It's almost done."

"Nope, it's break time," Javy repeats more firmly. 

Jake's shoulders hang, and it looks like it takes him physical effort to stand up from the table. Jake's joints and back audibly pop from the action, and he raises his hands above his head to fully stretch. 

You try to root yourself in concern, not thinking of the flash of skin you saw where Jake's shirt rode up a bit. Jake blinks a few times, and when he finishes stretching, he turns to fully look at Javy. 

"How long are you staying?" Jake asks, daring to glance back down at the puzzle. Javy snaps his fingers in front of Jake's face twice and then points aggressively toward the couch. 

"As long as I want to," Javy responds with an upbeat tone and a wide grin. He gives a light shove, and Jake shuffles over to the couch. Jake looks at you as he walks, and you can tell that he feels betrayed. 

"I'll leave you to it," you say, ready to retreat into your room. 

Jake looks away from you then, and you don't like the flash of embarrassment on his face as he does. It's been odd seeing Jake so completely out of his element and uncomfortable in his skin the last few days. Embarrassed wasn't a look that fits well on Jake. It made you want to rush in and remedy the situation. 

"You don't gotta go," Jake calls to you.

"Javy came over to hang out with you, Jake." You say plainly. You want to give them space to talk and hang out. 

"Yeah, bro, feeling the love," Javy says jokingly. It earns him a sharp jab to his side from Jake. The action just makes Javy laugh, though. "Don't worry so much, Hang. Marlee is coming by later with dinner, and then all four of us will kick back, but right now, it's me, you, and the Master Chief." 

"You'll hang out with us later, though? Or are you doing something tonight?" Jake asks, ignoring Javy.  

"There is nothing I would rather do tonight than hang out with you," you tell him. Jake's eyes snap up from where they had drifted to the left, lowered just enough not to meet yours. The burning bright color in them is startling after the dull, distant look he has supported the last few days. You can't stop the words you say next, needing to try and back peddle. It takes a long beat before you say, "and Marls and Javy. I don't know if you've ever had Marlee's green chile enchiladas, but they are to die for." 

"They are so good," Jake agrees enthusiastically and looks down at the controller he is holding for the first time. Javy then shoots you a smile with a thumbs up, and you are reassured enough that you head upstairs and into your room. 

You hear Javy's voice behind you, "You know Marlee only cooks for two reasons." 

You close your door before hearing Jake's answer and resist the urge to eavesdrop. A few hours later, you hear loud yelling and laughter from the living room. Then get a text from Marlee to send the boys to help her get the food out of her car. 

The rest of the night is mostly light, and Jake almost passes for his normal self. He jokes with Coyote, eats two helpings of Marlee's enchiladas, and with you... well, with you, he is hot and cold. One moment Jake will be flirting with you in a heavy bravado, then the next, he falls into a quiet, contemplative silence. Javy has to herd Jake away from his puzzle three separate times. It gets easier to draw Jake back in every time; the last time only took a question directed toward Jake to draw him back to you guys. 

It is a good night, and everyone seems happy at the end. Jake hugs Javy and Marlee goodbye and leaves you to walk your friends out. You let out a small sigh of relief, seeing Jake walk up the stairs and not back to the dining room table. 

You talk with the couple for a few more minutes on the front porch, then hug them goodbye. You are thankful for them, to have such good friends who are willing to be a support system, for you, for Jake, and for their other friends too. It warms your heart, and it feels a lot like family. 

Jake's puzzling is less frenzied after that night, and he starts to reign back in. He has full conversations with you again and goes to the gym after work as well. He follows Javy's rules that had been texted to you both and doesn't puzzle by alone again.

 For the next week or so, Javy and Marlee end up in your living room in the evenings. Keeping Jake from becoming too obsessed, you also notice that he won't let Javy or Marlee touch his puzzle pieces. But when Jake does work on the puzzle, and you are home, he always invites you to join him. 

Jake makes an effort to converse with you while working too. The conversations you two get into range from academic to childhood memories, favorites — books, movies, foods, bands, animals— funny stories, and anything else that would pop in your heads. Of course, each puzzle piece must still be double tapped into place, and you are meticulous about following that rule. 

Puzzling in the evenings with Jake surprisingly becomes one of your favorite times of the day. Sometimes you would even just sit there at the table with Jake, scrolling on your phone while he works on the puzzle. 

Hangman's presence is a comforting steady grounding force, so much so that you can only hope you provide half of that for him. You knew you were roommates, and Jake may not carry the same romantic feelings you do. However, you couldn't deny the plain platonic affection that poured from him, so much you sometimes think M aybe . Maybe he does feel more. 

When you enter the kitchen, you see the puzzle is finished. You go to examine it and realize two pieces are missing. You feel a bit of worry creeping up in you, not sure how Jake will react to having lost pieces and being unable to complete the puzzle. 

You start to look around, checking every chair and bench to make sure a piece hasn't fallen. You shine a light under the couch in case they slipped under there. Then you are flipping up the edge of the rug in the living room and trying to think of any other feasible place the pieces could have disappeared. 

"What are you doing?" you hear, and you snap your head to see Jake standing on the other side of the couch, looking at you bemused. 

"Sorry, I was just looking for your missing pieces," you say, straightening up and fixing the rug. 

Jake quirks an eyebrow then he follows your gaze to the table where his puzzle is. Jake's mouth drops open, lips barely parted, and a soft "Oh." falls out like he didn't even make the sound intentionally. 

"No luck so far, though. I'm sorry. I'm sure they will turn up. Only so many places they could have gone," You say, making sure to project an upbeat, positive tone and attitude. 

Jake looks between you and the puzzle twice before suddenly you are graced with the rarest of Jake Seresin's smiles. It is one you have only seen a handful of times. It's different than his smirk and his confident panty dropping smile. It's not the smile that he gets when he laughs, and his eyes crinkle around the edges or the mouth wide open smile. It's not his practiced perfect smile he uses for pictures. 

No, this smile is closed-mouthed, those pearly whites hidden from view. It's a quirk of his lips like Jake is trying to hold it back from showing it on his face but he isn't entirely successful. His bottom lip is tucked a little bit between his teeth as if he is physically trying to bite back the expression, none of which prevents Jake's dimples from popping up. 

It's a smile that always leaves you a little stunned, and this is no exception. Not that there are many things about Jake that don't leave you feeling that way. This smile, paired with the soft look in his eyes, makes you want to melt into the floor. 

"I have the pieces," Jake tells you then. It takes you a few moments to process his words. 

"Oh, you do?"

"Yeah, I do," he says and pulls out a ziplock baggie from his pocket with the two pieces in it. 

"That's great!"

"They weren't lost. I was saving them, actually."

"Saving them for what?"

"For you. Well, for us."

You don't think you are able to hide your surprise at his words. "For us?"

"Yeah. You know, so we can finish this puzzle together. We worked on it together. So, we should finish it together. Few things match the feeling of putting the final piece of a puzzle into place."

God, you want to kiss him. You want to grab his face and smash your lips against his. You want to taste him and thread your fingers in his short dirty blonde hair. The little fantasy starting to form in your brain is cut off by Jake walking over to the table. 

You follow him there, and Jake sets the last two pieces on the table, letting you pick which one you want. Once you make your selection, Jake grabs the other one. 

"Okay, on three," he tells you with a grin. At his countdown, you both place the pieces of the puzzle. Automatically you double tap your piece into place. Jake was right; it is an extremely satisfying feeling finishing the puzzle and seeing it whole for the first time. 

Your gaze drifts over the puzzle, and you look up to see Jake staring at you instead of the finished piece. After a moment, you realize what is wrong. Your hand reaches across and gently nudges Jake's to the side. Then you tap Jake's piece twice, realizing that for the very first time, he seemed to have missed that compulsion of his. However, you knew it would bother Jake when he realized he had forgotten, so you make sure to complete the ritual. 

Jake's gaze snaps down to the piece you had tapped for him. Then his knuckles purposely brush against the back of your hand, sending shivers up your arm.

"Thank you," spills from both of your mouths at the same time, which makes you laugh.  

"Jinx," Jakes says in a rushed voice, making you laugh harder. That odd tension in the air between you two disappears. 

You walk into the kitchen and grab a white claw from the fridge, bringing it back for Jake, handing it to him. Jake is a strict enforcer of the jinx soda pop rule. The two of you look at the puzzle for a few more minutes. Taking in the stunning painting, the yearning and sadness of it never fails to impact you. 

While the two of you had been working on the puzzle, Jake had told you many different facts about The Meeting On The Turret Stairs. How it was a watercolor painting by Frederic William Burton, the poem it was based on, the era it was painted in, and its place in Irish art. 

When you asked Jake more, he surprised you by knowing hyper-specific details and answers off the top of his head. Intrigued, you learned how he had double majored at Annapolis in Aerospace Engineering and History. However, because Jake was golden boy Midshipman Seresin, he had gotten away with his final history thesis being art focused. Hangman more than understood how to be charming when he needed to be. 

"What now?" You ask him. 

"What do you mean?" Jake asks, confused. 

"What do we do with the puzzle?" you ask. It sounds much better than what you wanted to say. What now between the two of you? What were you going to do to keep spending time together? 

"We take it apart." Jake shrugs. 

"No," you gasp, horrified thinking of all the time you had put into the puzzle just to undo it and throw it back in the box.

"What else would we do?" Jake asks you. You think for a moment before smiling at your own idea. 

"Let's Mod Podge it, and then we can hang it up. We have some pretty bare walls in the house, and it is a stunning piece of art," you suggest. 

Jake doesn't even take a moment to think it over before saying, "I love that idea." 

So, you two are driving to the craft store to get cardboard and Mod Podge. A week later, the puzzle has been cemented and hung on the wall in between your and Jake's rooms upstairs. After the puzzle is finished, Jake is back into his sudoku and his various other reading books. He still lingers near you in the evenings, waiting longer than he used to before retreating to his room for bed. 

One night almost a month after you two had finished the puzzle, Jake brings the subject up again. You two are lounging on the couch, he had just gotten home from watching the Army-Navy game at a bar with some of his friends, and he is definitely a little bit tipsy. 

"I am going to build us a puzzle table," is the first thing he had loudly declared, walking in the door. 

You were instantly worried about why Jake might want to start a new puzzle. "Is everything okay?"

Jake doesn't seem to hear you, though, as he continues on. "A really nice one that opens and closes with velvet or something so we don't have to worry about losing pieces, and maybe I can even make it an adjustable height?" He is talking to himself more than to you. 

You watch as he grabs a notepad and pencil out of a drawer. Then he slumps on the couch. Before you know what's happening or can stop it, Jake has his head on your lap and is sketching design ideas, potential measurements, and materials. 

"How are you doing?" you ask him again, staring down at his face, unable to contain your enamored smile. Jake just nods his head and keeps sketching while mumbling. 

You run a hand through his soft hair tentatively. It is a bit longer than usual right now, almost out of regulation. He will need to get a haircut this week, but the strands are so soft, and you can't help but enjoy that there is a bit more there to run your fingers through. His eyes instantly close, and he hums contently at your touch. 

"Hangman?" you ask him almost teasingly, halting your movements.

"Yes, sugar?" 

"Are you okay?" 

He blinks his eyes open and looks at you. Their gleaming sea glass green color is a little glazed over and so very soft. His mirth is open and obvious to you. "I'm so great. Navy won." 

"That's great. Go Navy." A wide grin splits his face wide, and Jake's eyes actually crinkle closed, hiding their unique color from you again. 

"That's right, Honey. Ooh ahh!" Jake responds automatically, making you both laugh, and maybe you had been drinking a little bit of wine before he came home; perhaps you were warm from that, or maybe Jake was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Your eyes lock with his, and your hands pull out of his hair. You let one drift trace his face helping him relax the furrow in his eyebrows. 

"Why do you want to start a new puzzle?" You ask. 

"No new puzzle. A new table." He corrects you. Jake taps his pencil on the notepad pointedly. 

"For a new puzzle?"

"You liked doing a puzzle with me, right? Well, after the first bit, you liked it?"

"I loved it." The words slip out of your mouth before you can amend the sentiment to come off less forward.

"Me too,"Jake says and trails off for a moment. Then he continues asking, "So you would be open to doing another one with me? Just for fun this time, not my mental health." Jake doesn't say the last sentence with any bit of shame or embarrassment, which you admire. However, the vulnerability is obvious and glaring. 

"Yeah," you confirm, once again having to run your fingers over his brow to relax his face. 

"Perfect. I'm building the table, then. You can pick the puzzle this time." 

You can't help but let your hands slip back into Jake's hair, and he returns to sketching on his notepad. It was a moment of quiet peace you knew you didn't ever want to let go of. 

"Javy said that you don't like to do puzzles with other people, and that's what helps you pull out of the pit." 

Jake's eyes don't leave his notepad, and he turns the page. You watch Jake start to scrawl the pros of a dovetail joint versus a dowel joint before he starts to draw it out as well. You almost don't think he will say anything back by the time he finally does. 

"You aren't other people," Jake tells you, as he starts drawing in shading, which is completely unnecessary for anything beyond aesthetic. He bends the lines from a basic blueprint to a detailed drawing of a realistic table joint. It was distracting watching the engineer in him flow into the unexpected artist. 

The idea that you ever had thought his talent for art and engineering were such radically different things was a bit funny. Now that you see him dance between the lines back and forth so elegantly that you understand it wasn't two competing sides of Jake. It was just him. It was how he worked and operated. 

It was how he was Hangman and also Jake. It was how he could fill out sudoku then go to bed at 9 pm and how he could shoot pool until closing with the squad. It was how he was a cowboy and a pilot. It was how you wanted to cry a little bit, knowing he enjoyed you there, knowing you weren't like other people. 

And you are struck with the thought that you don't ever want Jake to do a puzzle with anyone but you. You never want to see him sitting alone at three am with bloodshot eyes putting pieces into place again. And you don't even want to consider him explaining animatedly why he believes a piece goes in one color pile and not the one it was originally sorted to anyone but you. 

You want to be selfish with Jake. You want to have him, and you want to keep him close, never letting go. Surely you could convince Jake to be yours. It was a selfish act that could be forgiven if you promised to cherish him. After all, there were worse things in the world than loving someone, so entirely the fact they might not love you to the same degree didn't hurt so much.  

Jake flips to the next page in the notepad and starts to sketch out the living room. As he works, the living room table starts to look significantly different than your current one. 

"Oh. It's for the living room?" You ask him.

At first, he just hums in response, but when he finishes rounding out a line, Jake lifts his pencil from the paper. It pauses there, poised and frozen, as he asks, "Do you want the dining table instead?" 

"No." As you continue, the pencil falls back to the page, "It just wasn't what I was originally thinking."

"I could do a dining room table too. They could even be made of the same wood." Jake says. His green eyes broke from the page to glance up at your face for the first time in a while. He searches your face trying to gauge your reaction to his suggestion. 

"Two puzzle tables?"

"Think of all the possibilities. We could do two puzzles at once." Jake gasps. You kind of hate the excited timbre that Jake's voice picks up at the idea, but you actually mostly love it. 

"Just one puzzle at a time, please." You say, giving his hair a teasing gentle tug, ignoring the sharp inhale of his breath that immediately follows. You refuse to give away the unexpected thrill sent straight through your body that settles at your core. You have to consciously make sure your words do not fall out rushed, "I think it would be nice to have out here, comfier." 

"I thought the exact same thing."

"Oh really?" You ask, amused. 

"Yes, Ma'am. I've got two words for you, puzzle naps." 

You huff a small laugh at him and bite your lower lip. He flips back to his first page of notes, where he had a small list of wood. He adds cherry to his list after oak. 

"Juniper is really pretty," you suggest. He immediately starts to write down your suggestion with a little heart next to it. When Jake starts to shade in the heart, you feel like the one in your chest might actually burst out. Something very similar to butterflies was fluttering around in you, but it is much less nervous and rather born of pure fondness. 

"Sounds beautiful. I'm sure it's perfect," Jake tells you. 

"Let's pick one together, though. It should be our choice."  

"No," Jake says, drawing an elegant oval around juniper. Then he goes back and strikes a straight line through the other options. "No one else has ever remembered to double tap."

Jake spends a few more minutes detailing the design before his eyes start to get sleepy, and his pencil marks become light and halting. It doesn't take much from you to encourage him to go to bed, just a whispered suggestion. 

He stumbles up from the couch and places a kiss on your forehead. Jake puts his notebook on the counter in the kitchen. After that, Jake circles back to press a second lingering kiss to your forehead. You watch him go all the way around the house to double check the locks, the front door, the garage, and the back door. Finally, after sending you two finger guns, Jake drags himself up the stairs, humming Anchors Aweigh. 

"Until we meet once more, here's wishing you a happy voyage home!" You loudly hear him sing. You listen to Jake as he hums his fight song while randomly peppering in other lyrics. When you finally hear him close his door, your mind makes a decision on the war it's been having. 

You are going to do whatever it takes for Jake Seresin to agree to be yours. Potential consequences be damned; Jake is worth the risk.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Ok, LISTEN. I'm about half way through seven minuets in heaven pt.2, but because I'm working on it while watching season 2, I got SatoSugu on my mind. so...

Now Presenting...

A little SatoSugu themed supplementary material.

Ok, so let's start standard 

Suguru is a psychology major with a minor in musical performance 

Satoru is a theoretical physics major with no minor because "ew, minors."

Suguru joined the ABO frat because fraternity housing is wayyy fucking cheaper than living in the dorms. Plus, easy access to booze.

Gojo did it for the memes and cause his best friend was joining. 

Suguru is for sure an alcoholic and in denial about it

Gojo smoked weed once and won't shut up about it. He does take a weak ass edible every once in awhile to sleep though.

Gojos tolerance is absolutely shit. Two shots and three puffs in and he is gone!

Suguru on the other hand could drink an entire bottle of tequila and smoke 12 joints and only really be kinda buzzed. 

Suguru is definitely in denial about his bisexuality. Everything that he does with Gojo is just for female attention, ya know?

Especially when they're making out alone in their shared room. That's definitely for attention. Source:just trust me bro

Gojo is very comfortable in his pansexuality, and has been known to use "are you a frying pan? Cause you're so fucking hot" as a pickup line.

Ok, now for their background!

Suguru and Gojo actually grew up together, and are the closest anyone can get to childhood friends,

Which morphed into the well documented phenomenon of an all too intense friendship that blurs the line of friends and dating, where if one of them were the opposite gender they would totally be together, but because they’re both boys there using that as a shield to avoid confronting their identities beyond the default settings

They were each other's first kiss 💋 

Gojo actually had really kind and loving parents who were very supportive. 

Sugurus' mom died when he was young though, leaving him and his dad to struggle. His dad wasn't necessarily bad, but he did have to work constantly and therefore wasn't home often.

Gojo was naturally smart and school came very easy to him. Meanwhile, Suguru struggled a lot, specifically with anything math related. 

This led to Gojo, with his great grades and generational wealth, being able to go to basically any college he wanted to. 

He still decided to go to the local community College in the end, at least to get his gen-eds and the first few years of his major out of the way at a heavily discounted price.

Yea, Suguru had no such opportunity, his options were community College or to start working with his dad as a mechanic immediately. 

And while he's not opposed to the idea of working with his father, and will even work with him for some extra spending money in the summers, he really wanted to give the whole higher education thing a shot. 

He's very proud to be in his community College, as he's the first person in his family to even attempt to get a degree

Now, here's how they are in a relationship because you can't have just one.

These boys have historically shared everything: their hot wheels, their Xbox, their bed, and their women. You are no exception. Lucky you 💜💙

When it comes to the three of you together, you find the boys actually work extremely well as a unit.

Where one struggles, the other thrives. Gojo isn't great when it comes to emotional venting and stuff, always looking to "fix" it.

Suguru is better at actually listening and only offering advice when you ask. He’s always willing to just cuddle and listen.

Suguru is terrible to try and watch movies with, he gets bored so fast. Meanwhile Gojo is obsessed with movies. 

Gojos fixer attitude also comes in clutch whenever you need to get something done, but just do not have it in you to do it. Need to call a doctor but have phone anxiety? Gojos your man.

Suguru craves to be the primary partner for both you and Gojo. Yes he's aware this is irrational, no he's not sure what to do about it. All he knows is that he gets jealous when he sees you with Gojo, and has to find ways to cope.

To his credit, he's never made this a problem for anyone other than himself, and he is actively working on it. 

Gojo on the other hand fucking loves to see you and Suguru spending time together. Those are his two favorite people in the god damn world, aren't they cute?!

Sugurus love language is music. He'll make you playlists, old fashioned mix tapes, and has forced you to listen to vinyl with him. He's written songs about you too, though he's too shy to show them off.

Will play his guitar for you only when asked because he knows the optics of 'frat guy with a guitar' are not ideal.

Gojo shows his love by sharing his candy. Splitting a Kit Kat, giving you a handful of skittles, sharing a sleeve of oreos. If Gojo shares his sweets with you he wants to marry you.

They two of you bond by baking together. You buy new cute molds and cookware together and set up entire spreads based on one theme.

Suguru was probably the first one to be in your life: I.E. the one that you agreed to date before realizing (and agreeing to) the package deal.

But Gojo said I love you first. He feels everything at 100% and hides none of it.

He said it loudly and in front of the rest of the frat, showing you off to everyone. 

When Suguru said it for the first time though, it was quiet; whispered to you late at night while you were curled up in his arms.

Both of the boys are massive cuddle bugs!

You call them Sugubear and Satotoro. Gojo loves it and Suguru does too, but he pretends he doesn't. 

[unadulteratedpiratepizza]

The "Wait no, the PS3 isn't retro" List

Have you ever said "The Wii isn't old, that came out when I was in High School"? Do you remember getting an N64 for Christmas? Did you play Halo 3 on Xbox Live with your friends while complaining about your math class? Then get ready to be destroyed by the ages of your childhood game systems (As of 2023)! Just remember that an age of 15 years makes it retro.

Famicom/NES: 1983(JP)/1985(US) Age: 40/38

Mega Drive/Genesis: 1988(JP)/1989(US) Age: 35/34

Super Famicom/SNES: 1990(JP)/1991(US) Age: 33/32

Sega Saturn: 1994(JP)/1995(US) Age: 29/28

PlayStation: 1994(JP)/1995(US) Age: 29/28

Nintendo 64: 1996 Age: 27

Sega Dreamcast: 1998(JP)/1999(US) Age: 25/24

PlayStation 2: 2000 Age: 23

GameCube: 2001 Age: 22

Xbox: 2001(US)/2002(JP,EU) Age: 22/21

Xbox 360: 2005 Age: 18

PlayStation 3: 2006 Age: 17

Nintendo Wii: 2006 Age: 17

Nintendo Wii U: 2012 Age: 11

PlayStation 4: 2013 Age: 10

Xbox One: 2013 Age: 10

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Not a thot but a question, do you have any headcanons for Frank/Matt/Bucky?

Ohhh yeah I have a few. Thanks for your patience, I wanted to respond to this when I could sit and think and type everything out on my computer, not on my phone. Normal HCs at the top, spicy stuff below the cut.

Matt

Okay so I had this friend in highschool who was beyond disgusted by peanut butter, no allergy just totally hated the stuff. Like wouldn't kiss his girlfriend if she'd eaten it recently. I feel like Matt has an extreme food ick like this. Def not peanut butter but something like olive oil maybe? With his sensitive senses he gags when he even gets a whiff of whatever it is.

Speaking of peanut butter, I think it's a food staple of Matt's. The man can't take care of himself, so cooking full meals is just not a thing for him. So 2AM, back from patrol and he needs something to eat. Matt just eats PB straight out of the jar with a spoon like I did for meals in college.

Frank

Loves karaoke. Well, used to when he lived a more normal life. I don't think he sings amazingly well, but he doesn't care. He plays guitar obviously and Col. Shoonover mentioned his impressions skills, so that all concludes me to the fact the Frank likes to sing. He sings to himself/along with the radio when he's driving by himself between jobs. A lot of John Denver and Elton John.

For a holiday/birthday/anniversary gift one year he absolutely recorded Maria a CD of him playing and singing a few of her favorite songs. He'd probably do the same for you too if you were dating.

Bucky

Has a bit of a video game addiction. He was so fascinated by Stark tech at the fair, that I imagine he loves learning about everything that has come along since, but really got hooked on video games. I'm thinking your standard XBOX, Nintendo or Playstation games like the MLB/Baseball game and the Mario collection. Not big on first person shooter games like Call of Duty cause he's lived it obviously. But he can literally spend hours playing like FIFA or something. Absolutely gets on live to play with Sam, AJ, and Cass all the time.

Spicy Thots under the cut, 18+ please, I tried to keep it gender neutral in terms of x reader

Matt

Is really touchy during sex and also not during sex. Since the visual stimulation of sex obviously isn't there for him, he makes up for it by always having to be pressed against you fully or by having hands roaming and groping everywhere.

But also not during sex he's always grounding himself to you by being pressed as close to you as possible. Only time he isn't is when he's in a Matty Mood™ and feels like he doesn't deserve you or you deserve better or whatever Catholic guilt BS he tells himself. He gets over it eventually.

I feel like he likes really intimate sex but also is really playful during it as well. We saw a glimpse of this in She Hulk but I also think his just generally flirty demeanor hints at this. I'm talking like does things to make you giggle in the middle of sex.

Man also has a bit of a breeding kink. He's absolutely not ready to be a parent because his life is in shambles and as much as he loved his dad, he did not have good parental examples in his life, but regardless of his partner's gender or bodily anatomy, he likes the idea of filling you up, knocking you up and having that claim on you. I'm again blaming the Catholicism somehow.

Frank

The eye contact during sex!!!! Dude lost his whole family so anything good in his life he is afraid is going to slip away so he treasures it and takes it all in. We saw this during S2 with Beth but yeah, big guy just loves to watch every facial expression you make during sex.

He's also just really tender in bed. He's not big on kink stuff but will try it if you want but just wants to feel really connected during sex. He's mostly serious in bed but in a really beautiful and intimate way.

Mostly groans and grunts but loves to thrown in a "c'mon baby girl/boy" and begs for "just one more for me"

Bucky

I wrote a whole spiel about my Bucky bedroom hcs, but here's some more.

Of the three, I feel like Bucky is most playful and open to new things in bed. I don't think any of them are open to a full on Daddy kink, dom-sub kind of play but Bucky is the most likely to lean into elements and try things. After his time being under someone else's control I think he likes to feel a little in control, especially of his own body and sex life. But again, not fully into that type of dynamic. Like he might like to boss you around a little or call you dirty names in bed. Afterall, 1940s Bucky was a total flirt and very smooth with the ladies, so it stands to reason in bed he'd still bring some of that out.

[harry-styles-obsessed]

Protective

Warnings:  fluff, self loathing, hateful words/comments, insecurities, struggle with body image.

You had insecurities, hell everyone did but yours specially drained you to the point of exhaustion. Some days were better than others but just one rude comments could ruin your entire week. Some may call it stupid or even silly but you were sensitive, even to harsh comments. You tried to put up a tough demeanour and act like you had a thick skin but in actuality every word knocked down the steps you were building yourself, the steps where you tried to better your insecurities... the steps that would ultimately come crashing down.

"I honestly give up, fucking bullshit, fucking assholes, bastards absolute fuckturds"

Your words came out in a harsh way as you dropped your bag onto the floor kicking the apartment door shut with the heel of your shoe, your best friend river who sat in his gaming chair turning to look at you "what happened?" He asked placing the Xbox controller down onto the coffee table and removing his headphones as he stood up making his way towards you a concerned look on his features,

River was your best friend since childhood, you both grew up together and lived together, you were besties since birth practically or well that's what you and him joked about at least. He was born in the morning and you were born in the evening- late evening, so you're both the same age but he's slightly older and he being the pain in the ass that he is liked to brag about that. Constantly.

As you paced back and forth he watched on with the same confused yet worried look on his face "I was helping a customer... as you do and then suddenly he got angry at me." You said throwing your arms up into the air in defeat as river raised his brows at you "that's retail for you" he said with a soft chuckle being able to empathise with you completely "he continued to make the issue bigger and then he got my manager and my manager got pissy at me" you said anger on your face "been there done that" he said with an empathetic smile "but you know what? This is the cherry on top seriously- the customer got angry at me because I was helping another customer and he couldn't have the patience to wait! And then he called me a fat bitch!" You yelled on the verge of tears rivers eyes widening "he did not" he said in shock that someone would be so cruel.

"I'm so sorry" he said wrapping his arms around you in a comforting hug as he instinctively swayed the both of you back and forth in a comforting assuring manner "don't let it bother you, you're beautiful inside and out" he said with a soft smile, your anger dispersing at his words. He was truly so soothing, he was your best friend of course but sometimes you felt awful as you didn't want it to seem like you were using him as your personal "therapist" but you knew he was simply doing what friends do. "And my manager wants me to work tomorrow now as well, saying if it happens again I'm losing my job." You whispered "and if that happens then that's okay... you're easily likeable and have a wonderful personality. You'll get another job instantly. I promise. And besides you've got me to help you... and remember, it isn't what you know it's who you know" he said beaming, throwing a playful wink into the mix.

————

That next day- well you didn't have high hopes for it and well your assumptions were correct. It was absolute hell. Actually no- it was being dragged through hell by your hair then dragged back into hell then back through the other way. So yes. Hell but burning burning hell. Your manager was up your ass all the time watching your every move and you felt like you were walking on eggshells around him. As you were putting some loafs of bread onto the shelf you heard a commotion but paid no mind to it. "Her!" A sudden yell grabbed your attention as the man whom had an issue with you yesterday was back once again "she's the fat bitch who didn't satisfy my needs yesterday! Her! Slutty bitch" he spat out his words feeling like acid burning into your heart but you kept your cool staring him down "you done?" You asked your manager staring holes into you, but surely he would side with you- correct? "In fact I am not done! You useless pathetic miserable ignorant human being, you're lucky the world has space for you" he said, clearly on something. He wasn't sober. That was for sure.

His yelling was gaining quite an audience as customers stopped and stared "sir, please just lower your voice" you said calmly feeling belittled by him. He was far much more taller than you and slightly chubby and you knew he would hurt you if he really wanted to. "I will NOT lower my voice you useless bitch! You earn what?! $5.00 an hour? Huh? Well I earn far much more you useless fucking whore. Maybe instead of wasting your life away here you should go exercise before you have a heart attack" tears immediately pooled in your eyes. Was he right? Was he only spitting facts? Maybe he was right?

But before your thoughts could go on any longer you were snapped out of your thoughts but another males voice "is there an issue here?" "Yea there is an issue! This stupid whore of a woman didn't-" but before the bully could continue his words the man had cut him off "gods who hurt you? That's some real pent up rage." The voice was deep and as you turned to look at the man who was actually seemingly stopping the man from yelling you had to stop your jaw from dropping. He had dark hair that was accompanied with luscious curls, his eyes green and sharp and the tattoos that littered his skin... well woah... he was handsome, far too handsome to even be real. No way was he real. He stood beside you his frame tall and menacing but he seemed kind... soft almost. "No one hurt me. But this bitch right here didn't do what I told her to do! She's such a insufferable piece of sh-" but before the man could continue the other man was quick to stand in front of you "dude shut the hell up. You aren't going to get anywhere by discriminating on her. Just leave" He said coldly, his tone dark and unsettling. "I will leave once she gives me what I want!" He yelled and he sighed straightening his posture, the muscles in his back pressing against the thin white shirt he wore as he looked towards the entrance of the store nodding his head and within milliseconds two men in suits walked in, nodding at the mysterious man before stopping in front of the man who continued to insult you "sir you can either come with us willingly or we'll force you" the suited man said, sunglasses adorning his eyes and within seconds he was dragged out of there deathly silent.

The man then slowly turned around, you were then able to get a better look at his face, his skin was perfect- clear... beautiful. The cross pendant on his chest moved ever so slightly as he shifted his weight onto his other foot as he seemingly studied you, his eyes staring into yours. "Uh, thank you... for that." You said with a shy smile and he shook his head, a charming but small smile on his face "don't mention it." He then stuck his hand out towards you "I'm Harry, pleasure to meet you" you glanced down at his hand large rings adorned his fingers but you quickly snapped out of it taking his hand and shaking it "nice to meet you too, Harry. I'm y/n... just y/n" you just a small shy smile staying on your lips "well, just y/n- that asshole of a man won't be bothering you again for a while I assure you" he said the charming smile remaining on his plump lips. "Thank you" you said gently, appreciation remaining on your face as you smiled gratefully at him. "He's been bothering me for a while... saying the same stuff" you said a glimpse of pain forming on your face but you quickly shoved that away but you were quite sure he noticed it by the look on his face, he either chose to ignore it or just didn't notice it at all and you simply hoped it was the second option. You didn't want to seem weak in front of such a handsome kind man. "Seriously?" Harry asked seemingly incredibly concerned "doesnt your manager do something about him?" He asked and you stared at him before letting out a laugh, a slight scoff soon followed "he hates me. Despises me so sides with him daily. Yesterday I couldn't help him due to the fact I was helping another customer and then he yells at me calls me all the names under the sun and yet my manager sides with him" you admitted a frown forming on his godly features "unbelievable..." he whispered shaking his head as he gazed around obviously searching the shop for the manager into which you were quick to stop him from confronting your manager "but it doesn't matter... he's gone now that's all that matters" you said seemingly silencing Harry's next colourful words that he would say about your manager. You looked at the clock on the wall as you smiled sheepishly at him "I'd love to talk more but I've got to continue working I'm so sorry" you said apologetically and he shook his head "don't mention it, it's okay. I'm sure I'll see you around. Have a good rest of your day y/n" he said maintaining eye contact with you for a few moments longer before turning around and walking out of the automatic doors.

You continued working. Bored. Alone. Tired as fuck. It was nearing 7.00 and it was already dark outside, the street lights giving practically no light to the pavement. "Gonna be a joy to walk home in" you muttered to yourself checking the clock again. 20 minutes to go. The hands on the clock ticked by slowly, and before you knew it it was home-time. You grabbed your bag and coat before making your way out of the doors letting out a sigh of relief. Freedom. Finally.

The cold breeze brushed against your cheeks and you let out a breath as you closed your eyes admiring the peace and the gentle sound of cars driving around, you slowly opened your eyes only to come face to face with a familiar man "y/n?" He asked, his voice unsure and you stared at him in awe, how did he remember your name? No way would such a handsome man even pay any attention to you but he was... "what are you doing walking home alone? It's so dark" he said concerned and you studied his features before glancing around "where's your car?" You asked and he gazed at you, chuckling "just over there. Just finished work" he said the dim lights barely acknowledging the suit he wore. "Oh I didn't realise you worked around here" you murmured and he smiled nodding his head. "You still didn't answer my question" he said with a cheeky charming smile and you let out a soft laugh "I don't drive and I don't fancy spending my earnings on a cab" you admitted, shrugging your shoulders "Let me drive you home." He offered with a small smile "no, no need I'm perfectly fine walking."

"I insist"

The simple sentence made you fall silent as you simply smiled, no man other than river had been this kind to you... they had all just shrugged you off or paid no attention to you but Harry... he seemed to care. "I guess I don't have a choice in the matter?" You asked with a small shy smile knowing he wouldn't take no for an answer before you exhaled looking up into his eyes "if you're sure" you said gently and he simply smiled his eyes glistening with kindness "I'm 100% sure.... Besides, I'd prefer for you to come home with me instead of getting mugged" he said looking into your eyes, his hand gently moving to glide against your back as he guided you across the road... why did he care for your safety? Why did he want to care? Why did he care about you?

You stared out the window, watching the city go by as the both of you drove in silence. You had told him your address and he had assured you he knew where it was due to the fact he drove past that part of town every time he made his way to work. The silence between you two was thick but comfortable, you didn't know where to start, your brain mainly focused on the fact that such a handsome man would care for you. You just couldn't wrap your head around it at all. "Can I ask you something?" He asked and you glanced at him briefly, the rings that adorned his fingers sat lightly on the steering wheel, his fingertips gently rubbing against the material of the steering wheel "sure" you agreed with a small smile as you focused on his face getting lost in the fact his jawline was so sharp... he was just perfect. Gods. "Why don't you leave your work?" He asked, "your manager is a prick and you deserve better" he said and you let out a soft laugh "trust me I've thought about leaving. Everyday. For the last few months but I don't want to be left skint." You said softly with a light shrug "the only way I'm able to survive this living crisis is by working my ass off at this damned shop! I get paid good but every week it goes down. And down. And down. I just swear if I leave this job I'm going to be on the streets and I-I... I don't think I'd survive that" you explained, your voice raising more and more the further you spoke the shake in your tone only growing stronger but you soon noticed how the car was now stopped, pulled to the side of the road as Harry simply gazed at you, giving you his undivided attention his green eyes glistening in the light like some beautiful crystals. "But what if you could survive it, hm?"

You turned to look at him, the softness in his eyes making you practically melt as you sighed quietly "what do you mean?" You asked softly and he smiled "you've got a kind personality. You're wonderful. I doubt you'll be doing the same job by next year as you'll be moving onto something even better... why not make things better for yourself and do what you've always dreamed of?" He suggested, raising his brows and you smiled softly before shrugging "no one wants me..."

"Bullshit."

You frowned slowly looking at him "bullshit?" You questioned and he nodded "yes bullshit, y/n. I know I don't really know you but from what I've seen so far you're an incredibly smart, talented and kind woman who doesn't know how far she can truly go" he said a serious but soft smile on his lips. "Thank you... Harry..." you said quietly and he simply smiled, your eyes soon locking on the street and you recognised it immediately "oh, shit- I'm so sorry I didn't realise we were parked at my house" you said incredibly embarrassed and he shook his head "don't worry. I'm happy I could listen to you... and hopefully make you realise how you can still chase your dreams even at your lowest." he said softly.

A warm smile stayed on your face "I appreciate it. Seriously... can I offer you a drink? At my place?" Your eyes nearly fell out of your head at your own words. No way did you just say that to him. You were just digging yourself a grave weren't you? "As a proper thank you." You said and he gazed at you before smiling "I'd love that... if it's no trouble."

~

"So y/n tell me about yourself" Harry said holding a glass of Coke in his hand, he had assured you he wouldn't drink due to the fact he had to drive home. "Well I enjoy performing arts, everything and anything to do with acting, singing, dancing... writing even! You know?" You said beaming your eyes practically glistening with happiness and that made Harry's heart practically glow he had never seen someone with the amount of passion that you had. It was beautiful. "Well, why don't you do it? Do what you love?" He asked and you looked at him embarrassed "I would but.... Have you seen me? No one wants a fat slob on their stage. I'd take up all the room." You said forgetting who you were talking to as your cheeks flushed and you looked down "I'm so sorry" you said but he quickly grabbed a hold of your hand stopping you and you looked into your eyes "is that really what what you believe? Hollywood may be about the looks and all that fake bullshit- but acting in films or on stage is about your talent... what's inside of you what character you can build." He said with a smile. "Any director who says differently isn't a director. They're a judgemental piece of shit. And trust me I've dealt with those type of people... they aren't worth your time."

"Seriously?" He nodded his head smiling "seriously." He said gently. You sighed softly "I'm sorry for being such a downer... I'm just not confident at all... all my experiences with men have ended horribly" you said and he tilted his head to the side slightly "well then all those men are idiots." He said with a small smile giving your hand a light squeeze "men suck but you can't let them ruin your confidence and happiness... you especially can't let them ruin your self confidence with how you see yourself. Your body is your temple... your body is your home... treat yourself with respect." A small sad smile remained on your lips you wanted to believe him as he did make you feel somewhat confident but also intimidated. He held your hand in his grip "those men or well... I should say- those boys who hurt you... they're boys. Stupid boys who don't know what a real woman is. A real woman isn't perfect. No. A real woman is real. But that wouldn't matter to the right man as the right soulmate will always find their person perfect and you know what y/n?" He paused and you smiled "what?" You asked gently "you're perfect.... Let me show you how a real man should treat you."

[carterstarlight25]

Hi everyone! So I been thinking hard on a rather unique 3way crossover that I been considering about writing. Please feel free to give me your input.

The 3 way crossover consist of DC x DP x Halo Infinite. With the ships being Jason and Danny (Obviously). Master Chief and Bruce as the second ship to be included. And Tim Simping for Katrina. (Cortana 2.0 from Infinite)

I see these possible dynamics being cute as Chief will learn how to be human, and how to love. Him and Team Phantom Finding Family. Also I don't mean the bull Chief pulled in the god awful Halo TV Show!

Bruce will learn that killing isn't an act of God. It isn't you kill once, and become a mindless murderer. That there is a difference, between a Soldier doing his duty to protect humanity and his loved ones. And a mindless killer, enjoying the horror of its victims as the bleed out with please for mercy. Effectively stealing their innocent lives... Oh also learn to not be as emotionally constipated after Katrina effectively out smarts him into a therapy session with Jazz Nightingale. (Last name changed after she saved Danny from the their parents lab…)

Danny will learn what it means to be apart of a family. And how screwed the GIW are.~

Jason, finds out he’s ghost pregnant and a heavy underdeveloped Halfa. All while the Pit becomes a full ghost that he ends up birthing. Which is gonna be a Dinosaur that will be Jason’s “Nightmare.” To his Fright Knight. (I am really wanting to go for Altispinax, or Spinax Vivosaur from Fossil Fighters series. But idk, might just use the Giga from Jurassic World Dominion. Just to change it up from what I seen people have the Pits become.

How Chief comes into the story however, would be introduced via Clockwork leaving a very obviously placed Halo Infinite Xbox Game case with a unmarked disc inside it. In an Alley Danny was taking refuge in. With a sticky note of course. And a few chapters in, when he was alone in Wayne Manor decided to play the game. And by Play. I mean go ghost and jump into the game. But of course. With his Fabulous Phantom Luck (trademark pending.) A new power began to make itself known as the code latched on him on his way out. Bringing Master Chief and Katrina to life in the real world, with all his memories and Katrina with the entire UNSC Database.)

While that’s how I plan to bring in Chief and Co. the main gist of this will be an all out battle, to destroy the GIW. Outlaws, Sirens, Chief and the entire Batfam Team up.

Despite the JL repealing the Anti Ecto Acts. A few Private donors continue to find them to get their hands on Ectoplasm. The League of Assassin’s, Lex Luthor. And of Course Vlad Masters will be the main villains connected to the GIW.

I can see Jason and Chief getting along like wildfire. And when Bruce finds out Jason is one leading the squad his kids, trying to get them to go on a date with Master Chief. It leads to some funny moments I would think. And of course can’t forget Chief reluctantly surprise appearance in Civies at one of Bruce’s Gala’s. (I kinda wanna make him wear Olive Green suit and dress pants. Black Bow Tie with a white under suit. Black belt. And an Olive Green Military Cap to hide his Neural Implant. Maybe having all his Medals from the service pinned to his chest. At least the ones that match ones in this universe. So not all of them obviously.

And Jason would absolutely catch his father freeze up when he sees the handsome Spartan.

For looks regarding Chief’s face since we don’t know what he looks like. I was thinking Caucasian Male, short brown hair that could be the right height to spike it up at least. Not a complete buzz cut. Rather bright blue eyes. That do not glow like Danny’s. But at least around that color. Of course he will have some scars on his left Temple, his lip and across his right eye. Freckles too. His muscle mass would of course be a bit more built then Jason. Which says something. But, you know. Super Soldier and all. (Update: I did in-fact Draw it ^^. If you want to see. Let me know if you wanna see Master Chief in a suit at the Gala ^^)

The Ages I was gonna go for was as follows.

Alfred: Immortal (Thanks Clockwork!)

John (Master Chief): 46yrs (I know it’s not his cannon Age. But it’s what I want for the story.)

Bruce: 45yrs

Barbara: 29yrs

Dick: 26yrs

Jazz: 21yrs

Jason: 21yrs

Cass: 20yrs

Sam: 20yrs

Danny: 19yrs

Duke: 19yrs

Steph: 19yrs

Tucker: 19yrs

Val: 19yrs

Tim: 18yrs

Ellie: 14yrs

Damien: 12yrs

Katrina: 6 months old

And that’s the little Fanfic I been thinking about. Of course it’s just an idea. but I think it would be fun to write.

[aspd-culture]

@brandon666

First off, you have some *really* inaccurate ideas of what ASPD is. Do you think we can survive in the world acting like you expect me to act? Far more often, pwASPD appear detached and callous rather than actively hostile the way you're saying. We aren't 12 year old kids on Xbox Live voice chat, * s p o o k y voice* we are all around you. You wouldn't be able to pick most of us out of a crowd, even if you had direct interaction with us. In fact, a running joke here and in my real life is that people often tell pwASPD "don't worry, I can sniff out a s*ciop*th a mile away" or similar not realizing they're talking shit about us to our face.

There *are* pwASPD who are still entirely valid who act the way you're saying - and also plenty of prosocials who behave like that too. But it isn't all of us, all the time. Most of us are capable of and maybe even prefer to be cool, calm, and calculated about how we speak and act because of the trauma we have.

Unlike people on TV like Dr. House, there are real life consequences to the behavior you describe, and many of us strive not to be happy, but for life to be as convenient as possible. Kinda hard to get convenience while you're pissing everyone off. Ever heard the part of ASPD where they mention we are manipulative and charismatic? Yeah that isn't exactly compatible with being crass, careless, pranking, or offensive. Careless actually specifically bothers me because we are often said to "play a social chess game" with people we talk to. Many of us are extremely calculating and overly cautious. And many of us aren't, but it certainly isn't like you're saying all the time. Even pwASPD who *do* act like that usually are calm and "respectful" sometimes.

Also, I never claimed to be unmasked on this blog. Most of the time, I am absolutely masking to some degree - although much less than IRL. You can actually see that in the tags, I use "a rare unmasked aspd-culture" as a joke about this fact. Whilst this is a safe place for other pwASPD to unmask if they'd like, my posts on this blog are different. My side of this is helping educate people - prosocial, antisocial, whoever - if/when they have questions for me about ASPD which is fairly frequent. This isn't to say I am not ok with unmasking here, like I said it's happened before, but consider the context of what's happening.

I'm often asked genuine questions about ASPD, some of which are ableist (almost always on accident!) and many of which are based on extremely common misconceptions. If I were to unmask while answering those, I would end up being really shitty to people who are trying to learn - often people who want to do better for the pwASPD in their life, or for themselves. We talk about coping mechanisms and the development of ASPD a lot here; with those topics there is little room for my unmasked behavior *and* education. If I were to unmask while answering, no one would be getting anything out of asking those questions even if I was providing info because it's hard to take in new information from someone when they're being defensive or hostile.

I don't want to be hostile towards them, I want to help because if ASPD is ever going to be destigmatized, someone has got to answer their questions and help show them what it is and what it isn't! We can't expect prosocials to fend for themselves in the cesspool of stigma that the typical google results on ASPD show - someone has to help them. And since one of my special interests (something autistic ppl like myself have and love to infodump about) is mental health, especially my own disorders, I am happy to be one of the people they can ask these sometimes tough questions to.

I am also helping pwASPD! Many questions I get are people trying to understand their own disorder or the disorder they think they might have. It sucked for me, learning this all on my own (and I'm still learning too), so I can use the cognitive empathy I've taught myself over the years and remember the feelings I went through when I was trying to find unbiased info.

There's a transaction here - a major part of ASPD if you didn't know - I calmly and respectfully answer people's questions, and the world becomes slightly less ignorant and we get a slight amount of progress on destigmatizing this disorder. That makes my life easier too. In the process, I see many culture asks that remind me I'm not alone in this. Often, posting those gives me some catharsis, and you will sometimes see me going off in the tags about what I've dealt with. But for the most part, I'm giving other pwASPD an open space to unmask as well as to ask questions to someone who will, 95% of the time, give a masked and respectful answer. Friendly is a stretch tho lol unless you missed the original post about the syscourse that you commented this on.

So yeah, long and short, you're definitely missing something here and that's ok. Just learn and do better. I know you might see that as another thing that is flying in the face of ASPD or whatever, but it's no skin off my back if you think I have ASPD or not, and anyway I'd rather you just learn and maybe next time someone says something like that to/around you about ASPD, you'll have the knowledge to correct it. Spreading info is an exponential situation - once I tell you guys things, some of you will inevitably tell someone else that, and so on and so forth until a good handful of people now know things about ASPD they didn't before. If not, oh well. I got to infodump and see relatable posts that made me feel seen.

Either way, it's been, and hopefully will continue to be, a net positive. You are absolutely welcome to keep this dialogue going if you have questions, want clarification, are enraged that I gave you a calm response, whichever. Even if you don't get anything out of this, someone else seeing it might.

I'll really fuck with you now - I genuinely hope you have a good day.

[woodaba]

We Wouldn't Have Alan Wake II Without Quantum Break

Remember Quantum Break? The first game announced for the Xbox One? The link between cult classic Alan Wake and surprising studio-saving hit Control? That prominently features Lance Reddick, the much-missed actor who was frequently one of the most electric screen presences of our time?

Don't worry, I barely do either, and I played the game yesterday.

So, a refresher. Quantum Break, announced in 2013 alongside the Xbox One and released three years later, is a third-person shooter starring Shawn Ashmore aka Iceman from the X-Men movies as Jack Joyce (and not Jake Joyce as I constantly remembered him as. In my defense, it's a better name, if only because then his superhero name could be Quantum Jake...), who, after being turned into A Remedy Entertainment Protagonist after a time-travel experiment gone wrong, battles against fellow Remedy Entertainment Protagonist Aidan Gillen aka Doctor Pavel I'm CIA as Paul Serene, over what to do about an imminent apocalypse after Time starts Breaking because of the aforementioned time-travel experiment.

As a rehabilitating former Doctor Who obsessive, I'm particularly open to this kind of time-travel nonsense, but Quantum Break is frustratingly unwilling to capitalize on its own premise. Interesting things happen, sure: people get stuck in causality loops, confront and become acausal time monsters, and live entire second lives in the past after time-traveling, but almost none of it occurs to Jack Joyce: he just spends his time just shooting guys in a series of warehouses and offices. Quantum Break is a potentially interesting story that we don't really get to see anything of, instead anything compelling in the narrative is relayed to us second-hand, by the myriad emails and documents scattered throughout the gunfights, or over the radio, and, of course, Remedy's now-signature multimedia ambitions.

In between acts of the video game Quantum Break, you'll be treated to episodes of the TV show Quantum Break, a live-action c-tier circa-2009 network TV production starring some of the big(ish) names that headline the game Quantum Break, but mostly follows a cast of extras who navigate around the events of the game while working for baddie Paul Serene's Evil Corporation, Monarch.

It's in the TV show that what Quantum Break actually is begins to take shape. Remedy, as a studio, has always been interested - and unusually adept at - pastiche, whether it's the noir comic stylings of their still-astonishing Max Payne duology or the rickety but deeply charming Stephen King love-in that is Alan Wake. And here, they do a genuinely stellar job at replicating the look, feel, and sensibilities of a 2008-2013 network TV Lost/Fringe rip-off that gets canceled after one season.

That may sound backhanded, but I assure you it isn't. I've long been a fan of Remedy, in spite of, or perhaps because I don't think they've made a truly great game since Max Payne 2. In a medium that often pillages relentlessly from Film and TV, Remedy set themselves apart from their competition with the depth of their understanding of the production of film, bringing into games a deftness of set construction and filmic pacing that blows their contemporaries out of the water. Even more-lauded names like Naughty Dog and Rockstar come up short against Alan Wake's hauntingly gorgeous misty woods, best illustrated with Rockstar's Max Payne 3, which matched Remedy's cinematographical flair in the cutscenes, but fell far short of their level design chops and breadth of influences.

Quantum Break is, in aesthetics and production, a genuinely extremely well-considered pastiche of this period of sci-fi television that is now comfortably in the rear-view mirror, the time since its release having given it a real nostalgic charm that would have been dulled at the time of release. It really reminded me of the years I spent watching shows like Heroes, or Flash/Forward, shows that may not have been very good, but are intoxicatingly emblematic of their time and place, hiding just beneath the floorboards of the shows that would actually get to be remembered.

It's a shame, then, that it just fails to really compel on any level beyond appreciation for the pastiche.

Much like the gameplay, the TV episodes of Quantum Break feel almost ancillary to another, better story that we never get to see. The stars of the game feel wasted here - particularly Lance Reddick, one of my favorite actors, who steals the show every time he appears, but is given vanishingly little to do in comparison with a group of wafer-thin characters that struggle to manifest a single dimension, with relational at best connection to the concerns of the narrative. It looks like a particularly budget-strapped episode of Warehouse 13, sure, but it doesn't really feel like one, as the episodes - until the last one, which is a noticeable improvement - are shockingly paceless and devoid of the arcs that would make a singular episode of television compelling. They are, ultimately, primarily dreary, overlong, and constantly highlighting the fact that they are largely interstitial filler.

It would be wrong to accuse Remedy of not having their heart in Quantum Break, as there is too much evident passion to discount, but I do feel like they struggle to find a core to this idea, something that they truly want to explore. Whether I'm playing the game or watching the show, QB leaves everything on the surface, with nothing to really find beneath the surface. It's notable that the game is absolutely filled with constant allusions to Alan Wake - including a full-blown trailer found on a TV moments after starting the game that bears startling resemblance to the eventual plot of this year's Alan Wake II - and that the game started life as a pitch to Microsoft for Alan Wake II: one suspects that they would much rather be making that game at this moment in time than Quantum Break, or that the game is a test-bed of ideas for the studio's future, the act of throwing a thousand darts at a quantum dartboard, and seeing which ones find their mark. It's just that for this effort, precious few of them do.

And yet, the surprise is that by the end, I truly felt like Remedy was genuinely onto something with the spirit of Quantum Break's ideas, if not the execution of them. The television show is the thing that makes Quantum Break live, that marks it out as something worth remembering in a sea of slick third-person shooters with cinematic ambitions. It is the icon of the foundational belief of the Xbox One, that the future of games lay in a synthesis with television, a dead-end future that had already worn out by the time the game was actually released. What remains is little more than a gimmick, sure, but it is one that, by the end, is oddly compelling, even if most of it is terrifically boring to actually experience.

There is a genuine thrill to seeing characters in both video game graphics and live-action forms, shifting between the two seamlessly thanks to some genuinely well-realized digitized actors that still look good today, a shift that blends well with the time-space bending of the plot. Do I care about Jack Joyce, as a person? Not even slightly. Did I still grin when I saw Actual Shawn Ashmore briefly appear in the TV episodes after controlling Virtual Shawn Ashmore? Absolutely. It's the same kind of shallow thrill you get from Cheers allumni showing up for a visit in Frasier, or when the Torchwood crew talk around the presence of Mr. Doctor Who, Esq, but as something that works with what the game is doing rather than distracting your attention elsewhere.

The gameplay portions represent time breaking down with (genuinely cool, if shallow) shards of space and glass and stuttering loops of physical time, but the collision of the Real and the Virtual feels so much more effective in communicating the idea of time and space shattering and colliding into one another. I just wish it played in this space more, focusing on Ashmore, Reddick, Monaghan, and Hope, rather than the cast of goons and extras who feel wholly separated from the game until the final mission.

I'd like to say that I'd love Remedy to take another crack at this idea, with the lessons they've learned from Control and Alan Wake II, but that already feels like a fool's hope. The ballooning costs of video game development make the idea of filming an entire TV mini-series alongside it feel laughable. Sure, Control's live-action segments were plentiful and superbly produced, but they were also far more restrained than Quantum Break, focusing on short segments with one non-big-name actor each in a couple of highly reusable sets. With both this and its open-world, side-questing structure with plenty of loot and upgrades to collect, Control is something largely in line with the realities and productions of modern game development

Quantum Break isn't rooted in reality for even a second. It's a time-locked instant, the most 2015 game ever made, which makes it all the better that it came out in 2016. There's no future in what Quantum Break envisions. It's a failed experiment, something to shrug at and move on. And yet, it compels me regardless, despite the fact that I don't really like it.

We need games like this, I feel. Historical curios like this show that the shifting landscape of the medium isn't a straight line, it splits off into splintered fraying timelines, some leading to nothing, but others spilling back in unexpected ways. After all, Courtney Hope, who played Beth Wilder here, returned for the starring role in Control, and that game feels so keenly like the product of lessons learned from QB, with everything from the live-action segments, the document-reading, and the combat feeling like a progression from Remedy's previous work. In particular, my complaints about QB's narrative taking place almost entirely off-screen evolves into a hugely compelling aspect of Control, with the genuine highlight of that game being reading the endless documents detailing the horrors and nightmares of America transcribed into corporate mundanity.

And while I've only played a taster of Alan Wake II, there's no doubt in my mind that that game, a bona-fide critical darling the likes of which Remedy hasn't had since Max Payne 2, owes a great debt to QB. Not least because its engine provides the framework for the game, but also because, well, it's been in there, this whole time.

Waiting for The Return.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for saying that my boyfriend would deserve it if he died in the Titan submersible implosion?

I figure it's far enough out from the argument itself now that I can post this. I (27M) and my boyfriend (29M) come from very different backgrounds.

He grew up in a wealthy family. His family isn't, like, billionaire rich--his father is a semi-prestigious actor--but they can, for example, eat at michelin star restaurants on a regular basis, pay for all their kid's ivy league educations, drop thousands of dollars on an impromptu trip to Europe for no reason, and so on and so forth. Which, like, good for them! Genuinely, I'm glad my partner and his family did not struggle with money growing up.

I, on the other hand, grew up in poverty. I didn't have any formal schooling until I got my GED and enrolled in college. I grew up food insecure, living in a very poor area, and frequently had periods of time where my family could not afford to pay our bills. I was extremely lucky to be able to go to college, and I only managed to pay for it due to spending basically all of my free time either working or applying for every niche scholarship I could find. Even now, several years into my career, I pretty much live off of rice and lentils so I can pay rent.

All this to say: Neither of us would consider ourselves pro-corporation or billionaire, but my boyfriend is sometimes more sympathetic to wealthier individuals due to his background. We do not currently live together, which is not because of the aforementioned, but is relevant.

A while back, my boyfriend's grandfather came to stay with his parents. His grandfather was, at the time, not feeling well--coughing, sneezing, the works. He pretty obviously had COVID. Nevertheless, my boyfriend took the 4 hour drive to spend time with him, and wouldn't you know it, he got sick. He stayed at his parents house until he got better. I decided not to make the drive to see my boyfriend, and stayed at my apartment. This is because I am immunocompromised and would prefer not to. Y'know. Die.

While my boyfriend was out, the whole debacle with the Titan submersible occurred, which I kept an eye on and made some memes about. A couple days after they found the wreckage, my boyfriend became coherent enough to have a phone conversation. While talking to him, I told him the story of what happened, the details about the submarine, the $250k ticket price, and so on.

He seemed indifferent until I brought up the 19 year old on board. He then seemed very upset, especially when he found out the kid didn't want to go in the first place. I tried to assure him that most of the memes were not about the kid, but he was having none of it. He seemed very sad, and said something along the lines of "I hope I don't go out like that."

I was confused. I didn't think his parents were so rich they would be able to afford that, but I figured it was just a hypothetical. My boyfriend has a big fear of death, and I often need to reassure him about things like this. "Well," I replied, "If you're worried about that, I can assure you that's an easy death to avoid. Just don't do dumb shit like that."

He then got VERY upset. "What do you mean??? Are you saying I'd deserve to die like that???"

Me: "I mean, that's not what I was saying? But you're not 19, you're almost 30, and you're not financially dependent on your parents. Also, your parents aren't nearly that rich, and even if they were, I know them, and they are not nearly that stupid. So, at that point, to get into that situation, you would need to personally drop $250k on a ticket, then weld yourself inside of an experimental deep sea submarine controlled via text message and an xbox controller. Like, there are several steps you personally could have Not taken to avoid being in this situation, including simply not deciding to be on an underwater death trap. So, yeah, that'd be on your head."

He then got even MORE upset, and started yelling about how insensitive I was being. After some back and forth, I got it out of him that he had been speaking metaphorically--that, from his perspective, I was saying that I thought he deserved to die of COVID, because he had made the choice to spend time with his grandfather despite knowing he had COVID.

I assured him that no, that was not what I was saying in the slightest, and he calmed down, but I was still upset. He had been yelling at me, after all, and it legitimately didn't occur to me that he was speaking metaphorically, while I was still on the very literal experimental submarine.

I asked one of my friends/his other partner (30M) about it after it happened, and he laughed and said that my boyfriend was being ridiculous. It's been several months at this point, it was a silly argument, I'm not going to bring it up again (because that would be weird) and I'm sure he's forgotten all about it. That said, if I'm being honest, I still feel kind of indignant that he immediately assumed I was secretly hoping he was going to die in a submarine. Am I being insane here?

What are these acronyms?

[yelenabemylova]

jealousy, jealousy- gamer!kate x reader

summary: it seems as though kate loves her playstation more than she loves you

The incessant clicks of the buttons coming from Kate's controller were driving you insane.

Hiding your head under your blankets, you groaned loudly, not that your girlfriend could hear you with her headset on.

The same thing had happened every day since she had gotten her new game.

She'd stay up all night gaming, coming to bed after you had gotten up in the morning. The only exception was when she had to go on missions; then she would go to bed at a reasonable time.

Claiming it was because she had a slightly less busy schedule, she promised to return to a somewhat more normal routine soon.

Unfortunately, you didn't believe her.

Kate often struggled to stick to her word, usually when it came to small things, so it didn't bother you too much. However, it still caused you to doubt her whenever she made a promise occasionally.

You huffed, "Kate?"

No reply.

Getting out of bed, you walked over to her, standing in front of her with a frown.

"Hi, baby," she smiled at you, leaning to the side so she could still see the screen behind you.

"I miss you," you pouted.

"I miss you too," she giggled.

It was difficult to be annoyed with her when she was so sweet and adoring.

"Then come snuggle," you whined slightly, knowing her answer would be no.

"I'm almost finished my game, though," she looked at you sadly.

" But we've barely spent any time together recently," you stared at the floor beneath you.

"I'm sorry," she sighed.

"Don't be," you shook your head.

"But I feel bad," she told you.

She always told you she felt bad but never did anything about it. It was infuriating, but you realised very early in your relationship that Kate needed direct communication as she wasn't good at picking up on hints, no matter how much detail you included.

"So come to bed; all you do is play on your xbox, and it's not fair. The console isn't your girlfriend; I am," you took a step closer to her, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

"Oh, honey. It's not an xbox, but are you jealous of my playstation?" she giggled, pulling you onto her lap, pausing her game.

"Well, you spend all of your free time on it," you didn't dare make eye contact with her due to the embarrassment of being jealous of an inanimate object.

"I promise I will always love you the most, and I'm sorry I haven't been spending time with you," she picked you up, carrying you into the kitchen and setting you down on the island.

"It's okay; you don't have to apologise; I'm the one who should be sorry. I'm so stupid for-"

"Nope, none of that," she interrupted you, kissing you softly.

She began to walk around the kitchen, preparing two mugs of hot chocolate before turning on your favourite film in the living room.

Carrying you in, she held you tight as you lay on the couch securely in her arms.

"I love you, much more than I love my stupid playstation," she giggled, kissing all over your face until you were laughing with her.

[genopaint]

The long awaited Week 10 of Daily Dragons! Like the last post, I just didn't really get the chance to post these cause my laptop was packed up and what not. But it's finally here for your viewing pleasure :)

As always you can follow me on twitter where they’re posted daily

And read more info on each of them below the cut

Daily Dragon #63 - Seal Dragon

These large, semi aquatic dragons are often seen basking on rocky shores. When hungry, the largest in a pack will swim into the ocean, hunt large animals like whales, and bring them back to shore for the whole pack to eat

I had a concept for a walrus like dragon but ultimately this isn't exactly what I had in mind. However, I do kinda like it! So you can expect to see at least one more seal-esc dragon in the future i guess lol

Daily Dragon #64 - Flying Dragon

As the name suggests, these dragons are ALWAYS in flight! They only land when they need to sleep, but are actually able to go surprisingly long times without needing any rest at all. Sometimes even multiple days!

Up and early with dragons these last few days aha Another redraw! I keep seeing it while looking at the other dragons for a hot minute so I wanted to tackle it too! I think it's actually from 2011-2012 like the Ghouldrogon because... Well they were on the same sheet of paper!

Daily Dragon #65 - Magon

The first Wario dragon! There's actually quite a few in his series. Lately I've been thinking about Wario Land/World/MoD for a while now. They're some of my favorite games and it might honestly be time for me to replay them

I played all the Wario games back in highschool so it's been a hot hot minute. But I really do like them all. They're all good as hell even (especially) Master of Disguise which is so underappreciated

Daily Dragon #66 - Snoozozaur

This dragon lives and breathes for one thing and one this only: sleeping! Rarely ever waking up, only for occasional food and water, they can actually sleep walk and sleep fight using what scientists believe to be some type of psychic ability. Additionally, they can levitate! Meaning they can comfortably sleep ANYWHERE!

Daily Dragon #67 - Shrine Dragon

This dragon is frequently seen guiding heroes of all kinds to temples and shrines important to their quests. If you're looking for a secret dungeon in a large area and spot one flying in the sky, it's in your best interest to follow it!

Daily Dragon #68 - Green Dragon

Thank you for all your amazing monsters and characters over the years, Mr. Toriyama!!

The more I keep thinking about it the more it's making me sad. Chrono Trigger's character designs were SO influential on me growing up. And the design for Arasu is SO important to RPG protagonists that I had OCs inspired by him before I even saw the character. And yeah, of course, Blue Dragon has always been a very important game to me even when I was a tiny child who couldn't afford an Xbox 360.

Daily Dragon #69 - Cuddlodon

A dragon that just loves being friendly and playful! They have some very basic combat skills like small fire balls and teeth, but why would you ever want to fight one? Come on, don't be mean to them :(

Really really low energy today. I wanted to do a Super Mario RPG celebration dragon, but I have something big in mind for the SMRPG dragon so I want to save it for when I'm less busy. Instead, today I redrew this fella from 2012: The Cuddly Dragon!

And of course, in 2024 (that's 12 years later holy hell!!) they come in multiple colors :)