So this is what happens when you have writer's block and you go to Tumblr for solace. Found a photo set, and the next thing I know four hours have passed and I've made this. It's based on R McKinley's 8 Ways To Say I Love You which are all copied as I found them into the story. Hope you enjoy and please review!

1 – Spit it into her voicemail, a little slurred and sounding like the shot whiskey you downed for courage. Feel as ashamed as you do walking into work in last's clothes. Wake up cringing for days, waiting for her to mention it.

"Becaaaaaa! So I know it's late, and you're probably sleeping or whatever it is you and that silly ear spike do at night but – anyway, look see, so I'm out – The Treble's dragged me out and we're at this house and – no Donald I don't want that – ah; no; wh –" A pause. "Okay so anyway, the reason I am calling Miss Mitchell is to let you know that – and listen closely here – you are a terrible friend. I mean, we have been stacking those stupid unused CDs for 3 months and – not that I don't love that – but you are still very rude to me. You do not let me make you laugh! I mean, who does that? So Beca, the Becanator, the out of this world Beca-naut, I want you to know – because it's important to me – that you suck. You don't even like movies! Let me tell you, when you told me that last week I – I'm sure part of me died. Like actually shrivelled up and died. But it's okay because I'm going to teach you. I'm going to show you how the awesome people live. And I want you to know that – despite how lame you are with your non laughing and your hatred of such beautiful productions that is the movie word – I love you anyway. Really, I accept your flaws and I continue to allow you to be my – No Kolio give that back –"

Beca could not help the smile that spread across her face as she finally finished listening to the slurred message the next morning, and she couldn't stop smiling when she listened to it for the second time, or the third time. She listened to it until she had memorised every word, every pause for breath, every change in pitch in his voice. And when she finally stopped and left for the station, where she sure enough found a very hungover Jesse, she couldn't stop smiling at how, when he saw her, his face paled as if he had only just realised what he had done.

"Relax Swanson, I'm not going to bite your head off for drunk dialling me."

The glint in her eyes suggested she was actually okay with it, and he felt himself relax a little more. "I know."

She turned to continue working, but after a moment she spun back to him. "Though Beca-naut? Really? That's out of this world lame."

His head appeared around a shelf and he smirked at her. "You prefer Becanator?"

"I prefer plain old Beca."

"Well I think you're anything but plain." He looked sincere, and Beca couldn't do anything but try to swallow the lump in her throat. "You're at least an 8, a definite nine if the ear spike disappeared."

He raised his eyebrows suggestively and, unable to help herself, she allowed herself to laugh. "In your dreams, Swanson."

2 – Sigh it into her mouth, wedged in between teeth and tongues. Don't even let your lips move when you say it, ever so lightly, into the air. Maybe it was just an exhalation of ecstasy.

Jesse didn't know how to cope. There were a million things running through his brain – had she seen the movie? Why did she choose that song? What exactly did she want? Could see wear those jeans around him all the time? He couldn't stop thinking, and his hands were shaking slightly as he applauded loudly with the rest of the crowd.

She was walking off stage, and to his delight and horror, was aiming straight at him.

He didn't know what to do, didn't know what he could possibly say to her, because it had all been such perfection, and the wrong words could shatter that and he didn't want to ruin it. Beca had let him in, she had sung to him in front of everyone, and now it was his turn and suddenly the guy who'd made all the moves for the entire year had absolutely nothing.

Except he had made all the moves, and now she was finally responding, and he suddenly felt very, very cocky.

"Told you," he said smugly as she approached him. "Endings are the best part."

"You're such a weirdo."

And before he even realised what was happening, before he could register how her hand grabbed his neck or how she lent across the row of seats or how she was smiling at him, that smile was pressed to his lips and he was kissing her. The girl he'd dreamed of kissing a thousand times, the girl all his thoughts revolved around, the girl who had given him multiple headaches while he tried to figure her out. That girl was kissing him and it was enough to take his breath away.

And in that breath were whispered the beginnings of an I love you.

3 – Buy her flowers. Buy her chocolate. Buy her a teddy bear, because that's what every romantic comedy has taught you. Take her out to a nice restaurant where neither of you feel comfortable and spend the whole night clearing your throat and tugging at your tie. Feel like your actions are more suited to a proposal than the simple confession of something you've always known.

Jesse couldn't believe he was doing this. He didn't understand how he had gone from asking Beca to a simple meal before they left for home for Christmas, to this… Embarrassment of a thing that was happening and he couldn't stop.

"Are you serious right now? This is what you made me dress up for?" she said in amused disapproval.

"Oh come on Bec, it's not that bad. Don't you like it even a tad?"

The room wasn't horrific, not really. Sure, he had persuaded Amy to help keep his girlfriend out of the rehearsal space they rented so he could move in the large tree and decorate it perfectly. And yeah, so he had filled the place with as many tea lights and tree shaped candles he could find. And he may have possibly gone overboard with the hundred red roses and individual petals scattered around the red and green plaid picnic blanket that sat under a large basket and an expensive chocolate advent calendar. Sure, there was a teddy bear the size of a small child holding a pillow that had her present resting safely inside but so what?

Okay, it was horrific. He was really not happy with himself over it.

Which is why, when she turned in his arms so her chest was against his and her arms were around his neck, he was surprised at the smile on her face. "Maybe I like it a little," she said with her mouth, while her eyes said she loved it.

How was she so incredible? Wow, he thought, I really do love this girl.

4 – Whisper it into her hair In the middle of the night, after you've counted the space between her breaths and are certain she's asleep. Shut your eyes quickly when she shirts toward you in askance. Maybe you were just sleep whispering.

It was perfectly silent in the Treble house, as the moon light poured through a crack in the curtains and the smell of her hair filled his nose as she snuggled closer into his body, her back warm against his chest. She rested a hand over the one that lay over her waist, holding her close, and he laced their fingers together, loving how she sighed gently in her sleep.

God she was so beautiful. He loved when she slept his arms, and he found himself hating Aerosmith for making it such a cliché to stay up and admire the way someone slept, and he hated Twilight for making it creepy. He knew if she ever caught him, she'd go crazy, but he couldn't bring himself to care. There was something about the way she was so unguarded, so at peace, that made him fall that much harder for her.

Because he did. He fell for her everyday. From the moment she swore at him in the morning for waking her up to the moment she stopped stroking her thumb across his knuckles when she fell asleep, he fell for her. Over and over, harder and harder, deeper and deeper. Every time he thought it wasn't possible to love her anymore – because he did, he loved her, achingly so – she would do something that made the impossible possible.

Like, for example, when she breathes out and he just catches his name, barely there, so soft he sometimes thinks he's making it up, but it's there. And she breathed it then, in that moment, when he was thinking of all the ways he loved her and how beautiful she was, and that is why, in reply, he kissed her hair and whispered the words he'd been dying to tell her for what seemed like far too long.

"I love you."

And when she tightened her grip on their joint fingers and he allowed his eyes to close happily, he knew he'd never love anyone else but her.

5 – Blurt it out in the middle of an impromptu dance party in the kitchen, as clumsy as your two left feet. When time seems to freeze, hastily tack on "in that shirt" or "when you make your award-winning meatballs" or, if you are feeling particularly brave, "when we do this." Resume dancing and pretend you don't feel her eyes on you the rest of the night.

"Jesse you better get down here quick!" she shouted up the stairs to his room. "Otherwise I'm giving the pancakes to Benji and Donald!"

"Which we're totally fine with so please take your time!" Donald called after, laughing along with Beca as she walked back into the kitchen to wash up. Jesse was late, had been in the shower too long, and the smell of pancakes made him rush even faster. He threw on a pair of jeans he had abandoned the night before, and grabbed any shirt from his cupboard, before sliding down the bannister to get there all that faster. When he reached the kitchen, he found Donald making a beat, as Beca sang the lyrics, her hair falling from her ponytail, his shirt from last night swamping her, a ratty pair of leggings keeping her dignity intact. She swayed her hips and her head to the beat as she sang along to a popular Michael Jackson song, her hands immersed in soapy water.

He doesn't know why but suddenly he found himself speaking. "I love y-"

But then he stopped, because it was wrong. He couldn't tell her he loved her for the first time in front of Donald, in this completely unromantic and completely random situation. When it was so easy for her to run, to panic and cut her losses. Everything about him telling her now was wrong, so instead, he finished his sentence with an awkward, "…how you're so easy going about being held captive as the cook for your arch enemies."

"You watch too many movies Mister." There's an edge to her voice when she throws back her retort, and he wondered if she noticed his slip. "You gonna eat your damned pancakes? You got class in twenty minutes."

So he sat down and grinned at her when he realised she had already prepared his pancakes the way he liked – chocolate chips and peanut butter were devilishly delicious – and faked stabbing Donald with a fork when his friend tried to steal a bite. He kept normal and pretended his stumble over his words never happened, and he ignored the way that for the rest of the day, she watched him with an unusual gleam to her eyes.

6 – Write her a letter in which the amount of circumnavigating and angst could rival Mr Darcy's. Debate where to leave it all day – on her pillow? In her coat pocket? Throw it away in frustration, conveniently leaving it face up in the trashcan, her name scrawled on the front in your sloppy handwriting. Let her wonder if you meant it.

Beca winced as the door squeaked, walking on tip toe to try and avoid waking her boyfriend who slept soundly in their bed. It had been a year and a week since they first kissed (not that she kept track of things like that, though she didn't know just because of the ICCA's that the Bella's had managed to win once more that day) and this time around, as she celebrated their win with the rest of her friends, she had the thrill of being able to go back to Jesse who had gone back to their hotel room early after getting a headache.

Last year was the awkward talking-everything-over evening, but that year, Beca was happy to know she could just climb into bed and lie in his arms as she did most nights.

She shut the door behind her, her eyes darting to the figure in the bed to check he didn't stir, and she slipped her shoes off as she tugged at the sleeves of her jacket. Once she grabbed one of Jesse's shirt from his still-packed suitcase, she padded through to the bathroom, her mind still tingly from the win and the two glasses of champagne she'd been forced to have. It had been the perfect day, and she switched on the light in content, unable to stop the grin that developed as she thought of how much beauty there was in her life.

She blamed it all on Jesse, and she was grateful every day for all he'd done.

She got to work getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth and striping off her finals outfit in favour of the shirt, unable to resist sniffing at the neck of the t-shirt. Wow, did her man smell good. She chuckled to herself at her possessive thoughts, rubbing off the last of her eyeliner with a make up wipe.

But just as she was about to deposit it in the bin, something caught her name. There, in the bin, was a crumpled bit of paper, her name just visible along on part.

Confused, she pulled it out, laying it on the counter and flattening it out with her hands so she could see what was important enough for her name to be written in what was quite clearly her boyfriend's infamously terrible scrawl.

I have had no idea how to say this to you. I have fretted over it for months – well, more accurately, years. Because I've known for so long. Since the moment I met you I knew just how special you are.
You're the most special thing in all the world to me.

Beca gasped, a hand over her lips as she let her eyes scan ahead, trying to understand was going on. And when she saw the end, she dug her nails into her lip, because she was angry that she'd skipped ahead, that he'd chickened out, because he was asleep and all she wanted to do was scream.

It seems silly, really, how I can't imagine life without you. The ratio of how long I've known you to how long I haven't proves, really, that I could live without you. Because I have. For 18 years I've lived without you, so really, I know I can. I know if you leave one day, I could carry on surviving. I could exist without you.
The point is, I don't want to. I know already that I will never choose to live without you, because that world where you aren't there? It sucks. It's stupid and ridiculous and no fun at all. I choose to live by your side, for the rest of our lives, as long as you'll have me.
I love you, Beca Mitchell. I love you so god damn much that it makes me hate you a little, how easily I fell for you, how my love for you just consumes everything about me.
I love you. Always and forever.

A tear splattered on the page and she realised that she was crying. Jesse had made her cry and he wasn't even in the room. She exhaled, a breath she hadn't realised she was holding, and let herself read it over and over, memorising the words just as she still had his message memorised, letting herself learn every word, every stroke of the pen.

The only way it could be better was if he had said the words to her himself.

She clutched the letter to her chest, closing her eyes as she tried to gain control of herself, trying to figure out why on earth he had written this, and why he had thought to throw it away. Which is why, when a gentle knock disturbed her, she yelped in surprise.

"Beca?" a sleepy voice mumbled through the door. She wiped her cheeks quickly when she realised who it was. "You okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine baby." She hissed when she realised what she said – baby?! Why would she say baby? She'd never said that in her entire life!

"You coming to bed?" she heard a thump and she imagined him leant against the door with her forehead, trying to stay awake.

Panicked, she scrunched the letter up in her fist, and when she's sure there's no evidence of tears on her face, she pulled open the door, giving him time to straighten up so he won't fall. She smiled at him, threading an arm around his waist, and walked back to the large bed, partly supporting his weight.

"You have fun?" he asked sleepily as he climbed into bed.

"The best." Her answer was hollow but he didn't seem to notice, so she settled in next to him, letting him pull her against him into his arms.

"Goodnight Jesse," she whispered, feeling the kiss he pressed lazily into her shoulder.

"Goodnight," he mumbled, then chuckled. "Baby," he added, tightening his hold around her for a moment before his breath became even on her neck. She was tense, and didn't know how to relax her muscles, so she let the way his body moulded to the shape of hers soothe her, show her that he was with her and not going anywhere. Jesse was still completely hers.

Not only that, she realised as she peered at the fist holding his letter, but Jesse loved her.

7 – Wait until something terrible has happened and you can't not tell her anymore. Wait until she almost gets hit by a car crossing Wabash against the light and after you are done cursing at the shit-for-brains cab drivers in this city, realise you are actually just terrified of living without her. Tell her with your hands shaking.

"Beca? Beca!" He rushed to her, eyes wide with fright, and she tried to keep her head perfectly still while she reached out for his hands. She was sat on the end of a hospital bed, a doctor working over her in the middle of the ER.

"Hey, hey, Jesse its fine, I'm okay." He grabbed onto her hands and kissed the knuckles on each, smiling when she moved her hand to cup his jaw and stroke his jaw bone with her thumb. "Jesse, calm down, I'm fine."

The way she winced as the doctor finished his last stitch made him worry otherwise. "Did they check you over properly? What if you've broken something important? Have they given you a scan? Have they checked for swelling? You might have concussion or internal bleeding or something –"

"I fell off a stage, not a cliff." He saw in his periphery that she was rolling her eyes at him, but he was too focussed on the cut on her forehead, sewn neatly together 6 stitches. The doctor pressed a bandage over it and she winced again, her grip tightening on his hand for just a second, and it was enough to send him off on another tangent.

"I cannot believe Amy did this to you. I knew she was dangerous, with that exaggerated way she walks and the kraken thing and her unpredictability and –"

"It was an accident nothing more –"

"It could have been so much worse, oh god you could have so much damage, Bec you're so lucky you didn't land awkwardly or fall more –"

"Jesse stop focussing on the if's and look at me! I'm fine!"

His hands were shaking and when the doctor left to get her after care, he took her face in both his hands and kissed her desperately. "I was so scared Bec, when Stacie called and said they were taking you to the emergency room and that you'd fallen and cut open your head I just…" Beca saw the tears in his eyes as he pulled back to check her over, her face still in his trembling hands.

"Jesse," she said firmly, snapping his eyes back to him. "Stop freaking out. It's just a few stitches, I'll be fine soon enough. Worst case scenario I have a bit of a scar."

But he still looked terrified as he kissed her again. "I love you too much to lose you Beca. I can't imagine…" He shook his head, not realising what he had said. He put the tears that sprang in her eyes down to pain. "Just… I don't know."

He paused and let his hands fall down to hers again, watching her as she gaped a little, trying to form words. He sighed, and smirked at her. "Though really? A stage? If you're going to scar yourself, at least get a better story. Falling off a stage is just lame."

She gave him a tight smile, pulling him back for a gentle kiss. "I'll try and do better next time, okay?"

8 – Say it deliberately, your tongue a springboard for every syllable. Over coffee, brushing your teeth side-by-side, as you turn off the light to go to sleep – if doesn't matter where. Do not adorn it with extra words like "I think" or "I might". Do not sigh heavily as if admitting it were a burden instead of the most joyous thing you've ever done. Look her in the eyes and pray, heart thumping wildly, that she will turn to you and say, "I love you too."

That night, after Jesse had finally calmed down and had bought her back to his room, he had sat with her and watched their movie, The Breakfast Club, upon her request (he had been amazed too) and once it had finished, he had carried her on his back to her room – despite her insistence that a cut forehead didn't mean she was suddenly incapable of walking – so she could grab some things for the next day.

He was sat at her desk, scrolling through her mixes as she hunted through the wardrobe, smiling to himself as he remembered how each one went. Her music had always fascinated him. He could listen to it forever. He clicked play on one, the first she had ever played, and let it leak out quietly from her headphones that lay beside the keyboard, nodding gently to the beat as he continued to scroll, lost in the list of memories that reflected in each song.

"Jesse," she said hesitantly, and he pressed pause, turning to her. She was watching him, hovering by the foot of her bed, something in her hands.

"You ready?" He smiled at her, getting up out of the chair.

She paused, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them with a steely determination. "I love you too, you know."

Every scrap of air came whooshing out of his lungs as his mind went completely blank. What did she just say?

"At the hospital, you said it," she explained nervously, seeing his shock. "And I've been waiting. I've been waiting so long. So I want you to know that I love you too, and that it's because I love you, have always loved you, that I have this." She stretched out her arms, and he noticed what it was then. A shoebox, with a small label on the lid.

Jesse's I love you's.

"W… What is…" He was still in shock, his whole body recovering. He didn't understand what was going on, didn't understand why his heart was beating so fast. The whole situation was perplexing him.

She sat on the edge of her bed and patted the space next to her, Jesse following more on instinct than choice. "It wasn't intentional at first," she started, avoiding his eyes as she pulled off the lid and placed it beside her. "It was originally just a hiding place for – where is it – ah – hiding playing for this."

She held up a small USB to him and he stared at it like an idiot. "It's a recording," she told him, and he noticed her fingers start to shake slightly. "Remember when you drunk dialled me, back in freshman year? You told me I was a terrible friend." He nodded shortly and she continued. "You said I love you in it. I know you meant it more as a friendly I love you, not a romantic one, but it was the first time. And God that message… It stirred something in me. I listened to it so many times, Jesse."

She placed in his hand and wrapped his fingers around it, looking back into his eyes to smile at him. He was still speechless, but she could see the emotion there, how truly amazing he found it all. It spurred her on and she continued.

"Then you whispered it again, on the night of our first finals. I don't know if you even knew. I still don't, really, it was more of a sixth sense. Your lips moved and I just… I knew it. I knew you loved me." And with a simple shrug, she pulled out the jeans he had dreamed of her wearing, folded up neatly, and he took them from her, laying them on his lap.

"Bec-"

"Let me finish, Jesse," she said softly, touching his now functional lips and looking into his eyes. She wanted to finish, to finally show him the one thing she had left that she had hidden from him, and he nodded, knowing this was important to her.

"The third time wasn't so much spoken. But you had that look in your eyes, the same look when I kissed you, the same look you have right now, and I knew then that you were thinking it. I knew from the stupid bear and the candles and the whole absurd evening that was straight out of a vomit-worthy movie." She handed him a burnt out tea light, all of the wax burnt out, and then moved onto the next one.

"After that was the first time you said to me. You thought I was sleeping, but guess who fooled you?" She grinned at him and handed him another item of clothing. He opened it up to see it was one of his shirts, one he thought he had lost months ago.

"Watching me sleep by the way? Definitely creepy." But she grinned at him and he put the shirt on top of the rest of the growing pile in his lap, smiling back at her. He was beginning to really love this box and its hidden treasures.

"What next?" he asked when she paused, tilting her head thoughtfully as she looked at him.

"Pancakes," was all she had to say for him to remember, and he nodded, grimacing in embarrassment as he remembered accidently blurting the words out.

"Oh."

"Yes." She chuckled and handed him a plain silver fork. "You watch me sleep, I steal your forks. We're both a little creepy," she joked as he eyed it weirdly. He grinned at her and put it on the pile.

"You should know we blamed one of the freshman for that fork going missing."

She just shrugged and bumped her shoulder against his arm. Then she turned back to the box and, wordlessly, pulled out a crumpled bit of paper, clearing her throat awkwardly. Rather than handing it to him, she began to read. And Jesse gasped, because it was amazing but wrong – she wasn't supposed to have found that, she wasn't supposed to know about that letter. He wondered if she knew about the others. All the attempts he made that night, sitting in their room waiting for her to come back, trying to figure out how to tell her what he was trying to stop from bursting out of him.

When she finished, she had tears in her eyes, and he couldn't help it – he lent over and brushed his lips against hers. He went to pull back but she followed him, quicker, kissing him hard in a whole new way that was thrilling and made his stomach flutter with butterflies. It was love, he realised. She was kissing him with all the love she felt for him.

She pulled back, just enough to be able to catch her breath, and his nose bumped against hers. "So what about today?" he asked breathlessly. "I presume you stole medical equipment to symbolise it."

She laughed and carded her fingers through his hair. "I don't need to, I have you."

He kissed her again, ever so softly, and then she groaned. "That was so cheesy."

"Yeah, but it was also true," he breathed against her lips. And when she smiled and he swept the symbols to the floor, unneeded anymore, he pulled her into his lap and held her close, finally able to say the three simple words he'd been waiting to tell her for two years since the day they met.

"I love you."

So was that terrible or good? I don't know, I didn't check it over for any spelling mistakes or whatever because I am so hungry right now it's ridiculous. If there's terrible ones I'll update to remove them. It might also be a little OOC but I figured it fit and all so... Thanks for reading guys!