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sophswritingthings · 5 months

Note

what if a mizu x fem reader who’s her childhood crush? fem reader is like master eiji’s granddaughter or a child who was raised by him/visits him often. mizu sees her around often as a child and falls for her. years later, reader saves mizu and is like “miss me?” and Mizu’s first instinct is to tackle them into a tight hug

pairing: mixu x fem!childhoodcrush!reader

warning(s): the usual, y'know, swearing

a/n: I know I have others who put in a request before this, but I HAVE TO INDULGE RQ THEN I'LL GET BACK TO IT. this is so cute anon

summary: mizu hadn't grown up around people; she wasn't ever allowed outside. that was until she found the sword father, and stayed with him. she meets you, a pretty young girl her age, who happens to be his granddaughter. she falls for you--and years later--when she sees you again.. all of those feelings begin to resurface.

word count: 950 words / 5,010 characters

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mizu stopped in her tracks, holding a large pair of long iron tongs in her small hands. she saw you, her heart beginning to pound in her chest. a pretty young lady, about her age.

what would a girl such as yourself want to do with sword father?

she cleared her throat.

"hello," you murmur to her. you'd never seen her before; and those eyes... blue as the water. "who is this.. grandfather?"

you turn to your grandfather. he holds up a hand, gesturing for you to silence. he than gestures for mizu to hand him the tongs, in which, she does.

your grandfather doesn't answer you, so you take to a different approach. just ask her directly.

"who are you?" you murmur, "and what is your name?"

she clears her throat again, coughing a little before she spoke. so awkward, and for what?

"mizu," she replied rather quietly. “I-I’m.. staying here. with your um, grandfather.”

you chuckle at her awkward tone. you smile at her, offering your hand for her to shake. you were a little taller than her.

she grabbed your hand, shaking it softly.

from then on; you had visited every so often, when your mother would allow it. you two got along like two peas in a pod; you were best friends.

and every time mizu saw you, she swore you got more beautiful.

that was until she had gone. one day when you had come to visit; the girl had disappeared into the wind. your grandfather had told you that she had disappeared on a quest.

and you never saw her again.

that was until now.

you were settled outside your home, knitting and watching the people go by along the cobbled streets.

someone of… interest, caught your eye.

the minute you saw them; you knew exactly who it was.

mizu.

your first instinct was to call out to her; but it seemed that wasn’t exactly possible right now. she was being chased, a sword attached to her hip.

you couldn’t just sit here, right? no, you couldn’t. you leapt to your feet, throwing yourself between the now seemingly samurai mizu, and the one chasing her.

“leave them go,” you hiss.

“move, girl,” he grumbles back, looking up at mizu than down at you. “he’s killed half my men!”

“and I’m sure he had a good reason to,” you glance at mizu over your shoulder, smiling softly. “head off and leave us be now. whatever business you have to settle with him, you can settle in a honorable matter like men.”

the man groaned, glaring at mizu as he stomped off.

you turned to mizu with a bright, bright smile.

“miss me?”

you giggle, gazing up at her. god she'd gotten tall; you used to be taller than her, now she was probably a foot taller than you!

she says nothing.

a gentle smile spreads across her lips, and she tackles you into a tight hug.

you laugh, rolling onto the snowy cobblestone ground with the woman. your blushing a little, seeing as she’s now sitting on top of you, gazing up at her.

“I suppose you did, than!” you laugh.

she sits you up, nuzzling into your neck.

“I did. I really did.”

you were beautiful as ever. maybe even more beautiful than the last she had seen of you. a proper woman, one of she was not, but that didn’t matter. she was happy to see you after all this time. and you had saved her, no less.

“so.. what are you up to, now?” you gesture her up and down, “a samurai, are you? I thought you would be married by now..”

that made her flinch, seeing as she was once married, and the son of a bitch turned her in. and she may or may not have killed him.

she wasn’t going to tell you that, though, because you'd certainly call her stupid if she did.

her sights had changed, certainly.

“I am a samurai, yes,” she replied, glancing away.

“and what brings you back around here, hm?” you annunciate the hm, smiling as she helps you to your feet, holding her hat under her arm.

“a quest. my vow.”

her vow. yes, you thought she'd told you about that.

“I didn’t think you would still live here.” she replies. a woman as beautiful as you had to be married off, right?

“I am waiting for my father to find me a match,” you roll your eyes. “not that I want him to.”

she cocked her head. so you weren’t married. and for some reason, now she was blushing, thoughts swarming her mind.

maybe she could be that match—

no. mizu, no.

you wouldn’t think of it. you looked at her as a friend, a childhood friend you hadn’t seen in years.

“under.. understood,” she whispers.

if you were being honest with yourself, you'd always had a little crush on mizu. and looking at her now, the strength she simply admitted from her, those good looks. those eyes.

your father would never allow it. but who cared what he wanted?

“are you going to visit? eiji, I mean.” you murmur. “I-I could accompany you, if you are.”

“ah, right—“ she stops herself as she hears you offer to come with her, “you could if you want to.”

“yes. yes, I’d like that.” you nod, beginning to walk side by side with her. you gently brushed her hand, giving her a small smile.

it made her heart pound in her damn chest. it told her something, maybe you wanted to explore this. you had obviously noticed it on her face.

she clasped your hand as you walked.

she wanted to explore it, too.

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a/n: mizu and a childhood crush is always my favorite <333

#mizu #mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #new fic #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #request #fic request #ask #asked and answered

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honkytonk-hangman · 6 months

Text

Flight Risk

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: The sky beyond the baking tarmac is cloudless, and washed with deep reds and oranges, the way it always is by the time Jake lands when the monthly inter-squad training simulation has drawn to a close. Almost always.

Today, the sky had been a bright Carolina blue.

Today, Hangman had been shot down.

Warnings: cussing? jake being soppy. mentions of handsy dates, sexual referencessss

Notes: so this started as an AU for my fic Afterburn, and still technically is, however it can be read totally independently of that story as well.

Jake is perched in a casual lean against his plane, watching as the last jet in the pattern finally lands, continuing to wait patiently as the Super Hornet is guided to its designated area, just a few places down from his own. The sky beyond the baking tarmac is cloudless, and washed with deep reds and oranges, the way it always is by the time Jake lands when the monthly inter-squad training simulation has drawn to a close. Almost always.

Today, the sky had been a bright Carolina blue.

Today, Hangman had been shot down.

Jake takes a small amount of comfort in knowing that the pilot responsible for his simulated demise is also the pilot to win the day, despite that meaning his own squad losing out on the point. It wouldn’t happen again, however. He’d foolishly underestimated you, disregarded the gossip he’d overheard about Samurai squad’s newest member, choosing instead to judge for himself. Jake was a prideful son of a bitch at the best of times, and much worse at most others, but he wasn’t actually incapable of shutting the hell up and accepting his slice of humble pie.

At least, he’d accept it in his own special way, which is exactly why he waits long after the others have filtered off to the locker rooms. They’re already clocked off for the day by the time the ground crew have secured the last jet, and the pilot has climbed down. Jake shifts on his feet and gets a good look as you approach, purposefully giving you a suggestive up and down as you spot him and slow your walk.

“That was some flyin’,” he says, pushing off the side of his own jet and coming to stand before you. You blink at him, but raise an eyebrow as you manoeuvre your helmet to rest against your hip.

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” you ask, eyes sparkling in amusement. Jake grabs at his chest, like you’ve shot him down again, and winces.

“Aw, c’mon, Kodiak” he starts, before fixing you with a piercing stare. “I don’t give out compliments that often, give it to me easy.”

“Only thing I’ll give you is my afterburner.”

Jake can’t help himself, he grins wide. He knows he should keep up the banter, you were clearly well equipped to spar with him, didn’t seem to take anything too personally so far, but all he can think as he stares at the first pilot to ever shoot him down, sweat slicking your flyaway hairs to your forehead, the sunsetting below the tarmac behind you, your cheeks a little ruddy from your time in the air, is that he’s going to marry you.

Luckily, Jake has the good sense to keep this to himself for now.

He steps forward slightly, and holds out his hand, watching as you eye it suspiciously for a moment.

“I’m Hangman,” he tells you as you relent and shake his hand.

“I know who you are, that's why I went for you first.” you reply with surprisingly little smugness in your voice, just plain truth. Jake lifts an eyebrow at you.

“Using me to raise your profile I see,” he teases. You don’t seem to notice that you’re still shaking his hand, and Jake feels slightly thankful, because he’s memorising the way it feels. You scoff at him.

“And what would you have done?” you challenge. Jake just looks your features over, and decides an evening ceremony will be perfect.

You realise then that you’re still shaking his hand, and you hurriedly pull away, moving to hold your helmet in both hands as if to stop yourself from reaching out again.

“I need to go do my post-flight checks,” you say quickly, sidestepping Jake and moving off toward the hanagar, and probably the showers. Jake turns and watches you go, his smile never faltering.

“Kodiak!” he calls out, waiting for you to stop and turn back to him before going on. “I enjoyed flying with you.” Jake tells you honestly, but musters his most serious expression so that you’ll know that too. He watches your brows furrow suspiciously for a moment, almost like you’re expecting him to laugh like it’s just a prank, but after a couple more seconds, your frown smooths into something more curious, before your face at last completely softens and you give him a small, but genuine smile.

“I enjoyed shooting you down,” you reply, your voice sincere, but your words catching him off guard and making Jake let out a surprised bark of laughter.

Your smile widens just a little in the corners, like perhaps you had liked making him laugh, but soon enough you’re shifting your helmet in your hands again, and giving him a parting nod before once again you turn your back and walk away.

Jake stands still in place and watches as you shrink before at last disappearing entirely into the hangar. Once sure he’s alone, he places his hands on his hips and lets out a long, low whistle. He feels his heartbeat thump away rapidly in his chest, his adrenaline still spiking from just the thrill of speaking to you properly and in person for the first time, after being forced only to listen to your voice all afternoon on the radios.

It was a very nice voice, he thinks, both in person and on the radios, and it suits your very nice face very nicely. With a last whistle of approval, Jake begins making his own way inside, and even though he’d promised himself earlier that never again would he let you shoot him down, now he can’t help but think anything that brought you enjoyment was worth repeating.

Replaying your conversation over and over as he finally showers, changes, and heads home for the night, the first thing Jake does upon arriving in his apartment is reach for the pad and pen he keeps on the kitchen counter. He scribbles down the date, and writes out the highlights from your conversation as best as he remembers them. Peeling it off the pad, he folds it neatly, before placing it carefully inside the leather bound folder that held such items as his passport and birth certificate, before replacing it again in its hiding spot.

He wouldn’t need the contents of the note for a little while, he thinks, but when it came time to write the speech he’d give at your wedding, Jake wanted to know exactly where he could find it.

“Well, that was pathetic,” Javy nudges Jake in the ribs, and nods in your direction across the bar. Jake, who until now has been trying hard not to look your way, is finally given the perfect reason to do so, and swings his eyes over to you.

You’re sitting near the bar in your civvies, with a man who Jake can’t help but notice is not himself, and who is currently being awfully handsy for his liking. You don’t look completely comfortable either, but he also knows you have no trouble telling men to calm down when you aren’t feeling their advances. Neither reason adds up to exactly why Jake almost immediately chooses to abandon Javy by the pool table.

Part way across the bar, Jake realises that it’s not even a rescue attempt he’s trying for, clearly you were fine, no, this reaction from him is entirely new, spurred on by a good many things, but right now, by the abysmal looking date you were enduring. He slows his pace, and begins to move at a more natural gait, his lack of rush having no active affect on the crowds around him either way. Jake was both tall enough and wide enough that people tend to part for him as he walks regardless of asking.

He feels his chest puff out a little when you notice him coming before he even reaches you, and how even though he positions himself at the bar behind you, you seem to subconsciously turn a little to be able to look over at him anyway. Jake grins to himself when your ‘date’ seems to flounder at your seemingly captured attention, and quickly asks if you’d like another of the little cocktails you’d picked that night. Jake can’t help but scoff internally. He’d asked you once why you drank beer with the squad, but only ordered fruit drinks when you had a date, to which you’d replied that you thought it appeared more feminine. Jake scoffs again, this time out loud.

“You’ll let this guy take you out, but not me? You don’t even like that, you’re not even drinking it!” he says quietly enough so that only you are able to hear the clipped annoyance in his words. You cock your head at him, and raise your straw to your lips either spitefully or indignantly.

“Still sour about that Jakey?” you tease. Despite the subject matter, and his frustration that these men you went out with seemingly had something Jake did not, he can’t help but feel pride pump through his veins upon seeing the way your face, especially your eyes, have lit up for the first time all night, something which he thinks should be a bare minimum when. If a man couldn’t engage you, then he just wasn’t good enough for you, was he?

Jake shrugs noncommittally in response to your question, both of you knowing full well the answer to that. Instead, he looks away from you briefly as the bartender approaches, but feels your gaze burning the side of his cheek.

“Two beers please,” he says, paying and waiting patiently for the drinks to be deposited on the bar before he looks back at you again. He nudges one in your direction, pretending as though he doesn’t care if you accept it or not, by taking a sip of his own. His faux-apathy is completely blown by the way he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, even as he drinks, waiting to see whether or not you’ll take the beer. You watch him with the barest amount of disapproval that you can muster, before almost shyly collecting up the chilled glass bottle in your hands.

“Are you forgetting something, perhaps? Oh, it’s super important, the name is on the tip of my tongue! What're they called again…?” you purse your lips and frown deeply, making an almost sincere show of recalling the information you’re after.

Jake waits as you seem to get it at last, snapping your finger and pointing it at him. “Fraternisation laws!” you exclaim overly enthusiastic for the topic at hand, contrasting with the way you stare flatly at him. Jake brushes your finger aside as he turns inward to face you fully, and cocks his head curiously down at you.

“You know I’ve already got my half of the paperwork filled out Teddy Bear, I’m just waitin’ on you.” Jake leans in toward you as he speaks, moving in near enough that one might call it risque, but he prefers intimate. For your part, you seem to be trying hard to suppress a smile, which you don’t succeed at, however you still shake your head at him anyway, and pull back, which makes Jake immediately step out of your space a little, returning to an appropriate distance for two officers.

“I bet you say that to all the pilots.” you say quietly, almost to yourself. The line is a worn cliche, he almost writes it off, except that your tone is entirely new, and entirely too put-out for your usual wave offs.

“Only the ones that keep shooting me down,” he replies after a beat watching you, not really certain how else he should reply to this development in your now storied routine of rejecting his interest, even though he knows that you like him very much. Fraternisation had been the last reason, though, nobody really took that seriously enough to not even bother navigating its murky depths of paperwork, but before that you’d listed not being hungry enough for dinner and having to video call with your model-building partner, neither serious excuses, right?

At this point Jake isn’t what one might say is desperate, but is what one might call unwilling to watch you sit through another completely inadequate date, with men who seemed to always be on the worst side of interested in you. That meant they fell somewhere firmly between sleazy and handsy, neither category of which was amongst Jake’s personal favourite reasons for liking you so much, which in no particular order included your excellence as an aviator, your sharp sense of humour, and your unbridled ambition.

Up until now, though, you’ve never once turned him away with something that sounded so much like it might be true. You’ve also never once stared up at him the way you are now, your expression significant, but unreadable to him.

Then, after thinking perhaps he had gotten somewhere real with you tonight, Jake feels a familiar twinge of disappointment as you turn back to your date, moving in closer to talk quietly with the man.

Jake looks down at his beer and lets out a sigh, ready to leave you to your fun, and return to his prior activity of pretending not to watch you from afar. When the man accompanying you noisily steps back from the bar, the movement catches Jake’s eye, and he turns to see as the man looks briefly between you, before his eyes swing to Jake.

Jake hasn’t even caught on properly yet when your apparent former date turns on his heel and stalks darkly into the crowd, before at last disappearing entirely. Now free of your upsettingly poor choice of date, you swing your chair back around to face him, knees knocking into him with enough force to jolt Jake back to reality, where he discovers things to have played out almost exactly as he’d thought he’d been imagining them.

“Alright Seresin, you’ve got one shot at this,” you tell him, sounding like you don’t really mean it at all. Even so, Jake straightens and fixes you with his best self-assured smirk, but only because he knows you like it when he does.

“One shot is all I need,” he says proudly, before a few seconds pass and he finds himself blinking at the unintentional disclaimer he’s just given. “I mean, I’ll gladly take as many shots as you want, but–”

“Jesus, Jake! Anyone would think you haven't been laid in months!” you cut him off with a bark of laughter, your features in almost complete disbelief at such a thing. Jake pauses, hesitating with how he should respond, but eventually relaxes once more, and leans down on the bar again to fix you with his stare.

“Two months,” he informs you simply. You actually snort this time, which he finds utterly adorable, and you continue to chortle at his apparent joke, until you seem to realise he isn’t joining you. Your face falls then, and you blink at him in surprise, a flash of guilt mixing in with it, before you quickly attempt to play off your astonishment.

“Like, Seriously?” You ask, staring at him. Jake just nods, giving a short shrug, but doesn’t break your eye contact. After several more seconds pass, heavy with your bewilderment, you settle in your spot beside him one more, and let out a small huff. “Saving yourself for somebody special, then?” your eyebrows lift up as you ask, voice lilting with humour, but you don’t fully smile yet, like you’re afraid of still possibly offending him. Jake simply shrugs again, but rolls his eyes lightly.

He’s well aware of his reputation before you, as is almost all on base who know him, or those who frequent the Navy bars scattered nearby. He thinks maybe he should have gone about distributing the updated information on him, however, because as far as Jake is concerned, he had been off the market for quite some time.

Unofficially, anyway.

“Oh, she’s very special, darlin’. Someone worth saving myself for. I think you’d like her a lot,” Jake does his best not to sound too goofy about it, but he swings almost too far the opposite way, and finds himself hoping to god that the purring quality to his voice as he speaks isn’t too much.

You stare at Jake for several seconds processing his line briefly, before at last scoffing and rolling your eyes as you turn slightly away from him to take a sip of your drink. Despite this reaction likely wounding a lesser man, Jake knows his words have resonated at least a little, because both your scoff or your eye roll half-hearted at best, both also completely undermined by the not-so-tiny smile you clearly can’t repress properly, even if you try to hide it by taking another sip.

“Answer me this, Seresin;” you start when a few minutes have passed, Jake having also taken to sipping his beer, choosing to let the subject settle between you for a bit. “I know about you, and I’m not like, slut-shaming you or anything, but how do I know all of this isn’t just the usual bullshit you parcel out? How do I know I’m not just another in a long line of others?” you ask, your voice surprisingly light for the frankness and seriousness of your words. Jake blinks at you, his brow furrowing this time, and notes the way your gaze flickers to the crease between his brows for half a second.

He places his beer down and blows out a puff of air. He doesn’t answer you right away, can’t really, because on some level he realises telling you that he’s been planning your lives together since the day you’d met won’t go down super well, but he also doesn’t want to misrepresent the level of his feelings toward you.

“Well, you don’t. I mean, you are,” he speaks carefully, already expecting the frown that appears on your face almost immediately, and quickly goes on. “But you’re the last in that line. I can promise you that.” Jake’s voice becomes involuntarily quieter as he finishes speaking, and he hates the uncertain sound the softness gives his words, but knows saying them again will only cheapen them.

You stare at one another for several heart-thumping seconds, and Jake wonders if the rest of the bar has all but disappeared for you too, or if you were still well aware of everything going on around you. For all Jake knew, the bar didn’t even exist right now. And then you move, your eyes bouncing up to blink at him slowly like a cat, before they drop to your feet in an embarrassed sort of way Jake can truthfully say he’d never have imagined of you.

“I asked Javy a few weeks ago if you were sick, or something,” you say, looking back up at him with a laugh in your voice now. “I saw you turn down, like, six different women that night, and I don’t know, I was genuinely concerned for your health.” You tell him, making a small smile pull at the corners of Jake’s lips that you’d been worried about him at all, had watched him long enough to see him turn others away.

“You know what he said? He just rolled his eyes at me and said that, no, actually, you weren’t fine at all, that you were in love with me, and if he’s honest, it wasn’t cute anymore, and had become totally insufferable,” You laugh properly this time as you relay the information, and Jake can’t help but chuckle too.

“And so you thought you’d let me stew for a few more weeks? Have I not been a good boy enough already?” Jake asks with an amused twinkle in his eyes. He knew he was getting to the end of his rope tonight, but in reality, it never mattered to him how many weeks or months you made him wait, any amount of time would have been worth it. You shrug and dip your eyes away from him to dance around the room.

“Not exactly. I mean, I didn’t totally believe Javy, but I figured there might’ve been some truth there. I mean what is this, like, the… fifth time in two months you’ve asked me out?” You question, half to yourself as you do some maths.

“Fifth times the charm,” Jake replies seriously, having no other memory anymore of how the quote is supposed to go and not entirely realising he’s said it wrong at all. You snicker at this glimpse at just how far gone he is, but he doesn’t mind.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give you a real chance before now,” you say quietly, before pulling a conciliatory expression. “But to be fair, if you were any other guy, I’d be totally right about you… I still could be,” you sound as though you’re trying to convince yourself, and trial off after biting your lower lip in a distracted sort of way. Jake nods, understanding your hesitation. You weren’t to know that he cared about you more than anyone he’d met before, more than anyone ever could, but he’s also aware that there was no point to talking the big talk when it came to things like this.

“Well now, excuse me Darlin’! I didn’t work so damned hard on my exceptionally slutty past for you to just sweep it all aside for me! It’s just plain disrespectful,” Jake blusters, playing up his accent as much as he can, but still only coming out sounding half indignant. You blink in surprise at his disapproval, and quickly try to hide the sound of your snort as it escapes through another laugh, clearly taken aback and not expecting this angle from him.

“So this is what's gonna happen instead; you’re gonna make me work just as hard for this, for you, and once you’ve made yourself an honest man outta me, then we can talk about being right or wrong,” Jake states matter-of-factly, like he isn’t simultaneously pleading you for more than this, and begging you to stand your ground at the same time.

Jake’s most frequent and recurring nightmare these past months had been the idea of getting you, then losing you. He isn’t lying about working hard to have his reputation, Jake didn’t do commitment, he didn’t do more than one night, and if he did, it was never because he wanted more. He knows relationships and intimacy are the furthest thing from his forte by choice, so if he was going to get the chance to be with you, he wanted to do it properly, to do it right.

Your laughter turns softer, pulling him from his reverie. He finds you watching him, considering his words as he’d trailed off somewhere in his head while waiting for your response. There's a small twinkle in your eyes that tells him you had no plans to take it easy on him ever, but as if you know he won’t be abated by that alone, you lean in toward him, resting your chin in your palm while blinking up at him coquettishly.

“Well, you’re already on the right track, with this whole ‘saving yourself’ business. I appreciate that, off the bat,” you say, and Jake is kind of relieved, because while it wasn’t necessarily something he had to do, you weren’t an item and had turned him down four times so feelings or no, Jake wouldn’t have been in the wrong if he’d slipped up once or twice, but he’s glad that you acknowledge your approval, at least because now he knows now and feels a gust of pride inflate his chest.

“To be clear, though, I would make you work for it regardless of your past. I know what I’m worth, what I bring to a relationship, and what I want out of one, and I know those things too well just to forget them. Not for anyone.”

Jake nods vehemently, once again in complete agreement.

“Good. That’s real good, sweetheart. I don’t,” he tells you honestly, now feeling a sense of distinctly unearned pride that you were already so intune and aware of your value. He knows that for most people, including himself, that those things are only learned once they’re older.

Your face flashes with surprise, startled by his admission of what was probably at least some basic emotional intelligence. “I’ve never wanted to know it, it wasn’t important before…” Jake trails off, and feels a sense of hesitation and regret start to poison his tongue. Was that too much? Too callous? You were aware of his colourful sexual past, but plenty of people had those. Jake had been calculated in his endeavours, and he’s suddenly ashamed, and not sure if he wants you to know that.

For a few beats you look at one another, Jake trying his best not to break eye contact, somehow hoping it will tell you all you need to know about his intentions, but after a moment, it’s you who looks away, shifting back into your position resting both arms atop the bar, where you begin fiddling with your drinks coaster.

“You know, you don’t have to be quite that honest, you can try to like, impress me still,” you say after a couple more seconds pass, and Jake lets out a shaky, anxious breath when a sideways, wry smile accompanies your words.

“Rather you be impressed by the truth than anything else,” he responds, mimicking your lean, your arms pressed against one another now, and Jake could be mistaken, but he’s almost certain that you lean some of your weight into him.

“‘M just sayin’ you don’t have to, like, abase yourself just for me to think you’re dealing fair. I already know you’re not exactly a two rodeo pony, but if you’re trying to be, that’s all I ask.” you look up at him and catch his gaze. Jake thinks over what you’ve said, not fully being able to believe it, but he wonders now if this will be just as much about proving his worthiness to himself, just as much as it was to you.

As if he has little screens in his eyes that relay his every thought like a teleprompter, your expression softens once again, and this time Jake is sure that you’re leaning into his side, your weight falling solidly, but comfortably onto him.

“C’mon Hangman, you’re the best, aren’t you?” you tease, even nudging him playfully. “Who says you aren’t the best at this too?” you go on to ask, raising your eyebrows challengingly. Jake feels both a thrill at the slight taunt to your voice, as well as a deep affection and reverence that you know exactly how to play him already.

He picks up what you’re putting down, and lifts his chin to look down at you, one eyebrow of his own lifting in an almost condescending manner.

“Certainly not you, that's for damn sure, sweetheart.” Jake damn-near gloats, chest puffing out and pride swelling up again substantially at the way you seem to enjoy this display.

“Well then, I can’t wait to find out!” You say, knocking into his side once more with your elbow. Jake’s smile flickers more genuine, and after a moment of brief thought, he uncrosses his arms on the bar and slings his arm casually around your shoulder. You move into him almost like you’ve been waiting for him to do this, like for the past few weeks you’ve been thinking about it and what you might do if he did.

You grin up at him and Jake smiles back, lowering his face down to yours so that when he speaks again, you’re the only one in the room who can hear him

“Just promise me one thing,” Jake asks, serious as ever now. Your features crease a little, but you nod.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Never stop shooting me down. It’s kinda sexy.”

You let out a shocked, joyful laugh, even as your eyes gain a mean little sheen to them, the contrast between your sweet chortle, and the evil look on your face only making his own grin widen. Jake makes a note to bring this up in his wedding speech.

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fatuismooches · 6 months

Text

a lesson in truth.

It had been a long, long time since your death, and many things had happened in the puppet’s life. The Balladeer, Scaramouche, had fallen, his efforts to become a true God thwarted by the Traveler and the God of Wisdom. Everything was for naught, and now he was reduced to a mere shell of his former power.

Now, Scaramouche had found himself at the beck and call of Sumeru’s Archon and assisting the blonde-haired Traveler. It was not what he planned to be, but he had accepted this outcome, for there was nothing else for him to do. Though having that bothersome fairy talk nonstop was certainly grating for his ears.

When he connected to Irminsul, he didn’t think you would pop up in the saplings. Scaramouche wasn’t even trying to look for you on purpose, rather, the piece of hidden information stuck out to him and he had to know what was calling him so badly. He brought the bright sapling in front of him despite the yelling of the Traveler’s companion in the background, itching to know what it would show him. Instantly, a memory of you flooded into the minds of Scaramouche, the Traveler, Paimon, and Nahida. The former Harbinger gasped at the sight of you, many emotions flowing through him at once.

“Ack?! What’s happening?” Paimon yelled, half confused from the sudden intrusion of her mind by a smiling person. Even the Traveler could not help but be surprised, for they did not know who this mysterious person was. Nahida remained silent, only vaguely aware of who you were. She would only learn more of the story now. But Scaramouche had tuned all of them out. All he could focus on was the extremely vivid memory Irminsul provided him with of you. The one he loved, no, still loves so much.

The first thing he was shown was the day you two confessed to each other. The puppet remembers the moment clear as day, but seeing it happen once again right in front of him was a different story. You were so close, he wanted to simply reach out and touch you once more, but you were so far away at the same time…

“Eh? Is that… The Balladeer? He looks so different… and that outfit! And that person is so close to him, what are they-” Paimon interrupted herself with a dramatic gasp as you two declared love for each other, only for Kabukimono to begin crying into your chest as you stroked his hair. “Oh wow…” Paimon’s voice was much more quiet now, “Paimon didn’t know The Balladeer could be like that.” Scaramouche’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the conversation, but going through Irminsul’s records of you was more important right now.

He revisited so many parts of his life - the time he cut his fingers while cutting carrots and then got excited over a boo-boo kiss (to which Paimon giggled only to quickly shut up at the puppet’s expression.) He skimmed over the multitude of naps he took with you and came across the time you were gravely injured by those samurai. He paused there, unconsciously swallowing at the sight of the sword slashing you and the blood splattering across his face. The other three onlookers remained in silence because it would be far too cruel to comment even with the tense terms they had with The Balladeer.

The next pocket of memories was much more light-hearted, with you celebrating his birthday for the first time, baking a cake, and gifting him his cherished comb. The growling of Paimon’s stomach and her compliment of your baking skills didn’t go unnoticed by him. She wasn’t wrong, after all. Now, the Lavender Melon tree that the two of you planted together appeared.

He wishes he saved a part of the tree before it burned to the ground. Perhaps he could have regrown it if he had its branch. But it was far too late for that now.

Moving onto the next memory, Traveler swiftly covered their travel guide’s eyes at the sight of yours and Kabukimono’s nude bodies in the bathtub together, while the small girl whined and complained. Scaramouche abruptly stopped after this. The next memory… he knew what it was going to be, and he dreaded it. Once again, he was showered in all of these lovely memories with you only to be assaulted with the reality of this cruel world at the end.

“Hey, why did you stop? Paimon wants to see more of [Name]!” Scaramouche didn’t have the energy to react to her comment.

“Paimon…” The Archon gently chided her with a lingering sadness.

“Eh? Nahida, why do you sound like that?” Paimon’s question was answered in no time as the puppet bit the bullet and finally moved on to the last memory. There you were, brushing his hair and holding him for one final time, giving him the last kiss he’d ever receive from your lips. Scaramouche’s face was expressionless as he gazed at the final memories of you in Irminsul. But there was no need for expression when the emotion in his eyes told it all. Not even Paimon could bring herself to jab at the puppet anymore when the sincere longing for you was ever so present in his eyes. Although, despite the tender scene, Paimon and the Traveler could sense the apprehension coming from their former enemy’s body and tensed up in nervousness too.

This was it. Scaramouche would see how you succumbed, sacrificing yourself for him so he could survive the dangers of the furnace. If he were able to hold his breath, he would be doing so now. Only that… what he saw was not the truth that he had told him. When he saw Niwa murdered by Escher- no, Dottore, he had a horrible feeling sink into his entire body.

He was right.

The deceived puppet saw the truth of the Tatarasuna Incident. The way you passionately defended him. The way your face paled and you struggled to breathe, tears rolling down your cheeks, lying at the mechanic’s feet. The way your heart was viciously ripped out by Escher and your body discarded elsewhere, without even a proper farewell. You never sacrificed yourself for him, nor did the others kill you. It was never your fault. Nothing was. It was Escher’s, or rather the Doctor’s… And Niwa too, he… everything was one big lie. His head was clouded and spinning so much he couldn’t hear the Traveler’s and Paimon’s muffled words of horror at the sight. He couldn’t take it. He needed to exit Irminsul’s memories now or-

But for some reason, another memory forced its way into Scaramouche’s mind. His eyes widened at this, and he realized that he didn’t recognize this particular memory. Despite his head and heart pounding at the true cause of your death, he found it in him to pay attention one last time. He would always pay attention to you.

You were at a desk, a mostly blank paper in front of you and a pen twirling in your fingers. Multiple crumpled papers lay in the bin next to you, a few on the floor instead. You seemed to be contemplating very hard about what to write. You would write a sentence, squint your eyes at it, and then sigh, toss it, and begin anew.

“Ugh, how does one go about writing a letter for another to read after their death?” His expression darkened at your words. You were writing a letter to give him after you died? Though, for your morbid words, you looked more disappointed in yourself than sad. “Nothing I say seems to feel right…” You sighed to yourself before putting your pen to paper once more.

“To my dearest Kabukimono… if you are reading this, it means I have passed on and I am no longer with you. We both knew this day would come, I being a mortal, and you being a divine creation… Regardless, I do not know what our relationship will be like so many years in the future, but at the time I am writing this, I hope it continues to be the most loving and healthy one in all of Teyvat.”

“I know your tender heart must be destroyed by my departure from this world. But please, do not despair too much. I know you will grieve and miss me terribly, but do not let it consume or change you. You are a kind person, and do not let anyone change that, not even me. Please. As long as you carry our memories together in you, you will be fine, no matter where you go.”

“I do not know how or when I’ll die, but I hope it’s after many, many years of being with the love of my life. I hope we spent every last moment together, and I hope I taught you enough to live on without me. I love you so much, Kabukimono.”

“...” You stared in silence after that little paragraph, before crumpling it and throwing it at the wall in frustration. “Nope! No! It’s not good enough for Kabukimono,” you sighed, giving up. “I’ll just stop doing this for now. I’m not dying anytime soon anyway, there’s no need to hurry up and write this anyway,” you grumbled to yourself before cleaning up the area and permanently discarding the balled-up papers. Your pouting expression was the last thing he saw before he removed himself from the sapling’s data.

Exiting the Iriminsul’s memories, he clutched his head, reeling from the onslaught of memories he visited again. This was far more than a cruel joke. And to see that last memory, to see you so lively and excited to spend your entire life with him? Having no idea what your fate would be in the end? It was wholly wicked, evil, and ghastly, not to mention how ironic it was that he ended up being the complete opposite of what you wished for. And it was all because of one person. A mad grin appeared on his face.

“Dottore… Dottore… haha… hahahaha!” The puppet wildly laughed, before it became a mixture of broken laughter and wheezing, restricted sobs. He ignored the prattling of the two people behind him and the calm voice of Nahida because it meant nothing now. He had been deceived this whole time, the Doctor forcing him to look at you as some kind of betrayer when in reality it was the farthest thing from the truth. He’s sorry. For once in Scaramouche’s life, he is so, so, sorry. You deserve better.

Scaramouche wonders what you would say if you could see him now. Would you be disappointed? Scared? Hate him? You’d be surprised for sure, at least. You probably wouldn’t recognize this coldhearted and distant puppet who was once so bright and cheerful. He was nothing like Kabukimono. Would you still love him, knowing that he was so different from the man you fell in love with?

But there’s no need to wonder about what-ifs. Such things were pointless and a waste of time, knowing that you weren’t ever coming back. At least, that was what he always thought. But now he has another solution.

You had always told him that you would never betray him.

He wished he believed you. He wished you had another chance at life, a chance to be happy and live out all of your days in well-deserved peace, even if it meant he wasn’t there with you. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try to make that happen.

And so the puppet erased himself from the world.

lesson 1. lesson 2. lesson 3. lesson 4. lesson 5. lesson 6. lesson 7. lesson 8. lesson 9. lesson 10. bonus lesson.

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