#I guess because it's such a big brain idea and it couldn't cope

[sorceresssundries]

It's interesting watching people get big mad about lore-accuracy in fanfiction, when really all we want to do is play and stretch our imagination and expand on something we love.

If everybody wrote what was perfectly canon-compliant and lore-accurate with no space for exploration, then we'd all just be writing the same things in slightly different ways.

What if I wrote a fic about Emmrich Volkarin and Gale of Waterdeep as crossed-universe rivals who both want to become a timelord and find the last Tardis. And then what if they fucked???

Eh?? What then??

[amyintherapy]

Trauma layers

Therapy is such a mindfuck sometimes. I 100% get it when people say they don't think therapy would help them because they are pretty self-aware or self-reflective. Cause, that seems so freaking logical. But, I swear, with the right therapist you'll find yourself routinely shocked at how blind you actually can be to your own bullshit. Our brains try SO hard to hide our bullshit from us, it's insane. I guess I shouldn't speak for everyone, but it's so true for traumatized brains, at least. I know that minimizing or outright hiding your issues from you is how the brain responds to trauma. But it's still eye opening to me when I catch on to new pieces of this in myself.

I went into my appointment today with several ideas of what to potentially talk about written down. I knew what had been on my mind the most, but I wasn't sure if it made sense to use the appointment to discuss it because I've discussed essentially the same thing with my therapist multiple times in the past. So a big part of me was like eh, that'd be a waste of time. I know everything there is to know about myself in this area. Probably spend more time on these other things as that'll probably be more productive/helpful. But I decided to at least mention it and see where it goes. I expected to jump topics pretty quickly as I didn't think we'd find new ground to cover. But we wound up spending 45ish minutes out of the hour on it. And it was productive. And yet, it's hard to really express why. It's not like there was some big new revelation. I largely went into it knowing what my trauma is, why I have this trigger, what my default response is, etc etc etc.

To spell out this piece of my trauma a bit...

I had an eggshell stepdad, and a constantly-overwhelmed semi-eggshell mom. My stepdad exploding was my mom's biggest trigger. And anger from either of them basically means anything could happen. Some of what I saw happen after anger, much of it starting off with really low level things like..someone shutting the door a little harder than normal (not really slamming it) or tossing their keys onto the counter a little too loudly. These kinda things were triggers to me as a kid because I knew they could mean an explosion was coming. Anyway, what I dealt with related to my eggshell caregivers' anger...

Emotional abuse between adults (very common)

Emotional abuse at kids (very common, my siblings who were externalizers caught more than I did, but I couldn't avoid it either)

Lower-level physical abuse of kids (semi-common but was my siblings, not me that I ever recall)

Domestic violence between adults (very rare, maybe 2-3 times ever)

Items being broken/physical aggression with household items (Rare-ish, maybe once a year?)

Recurring arguments or break-ups (extremely common. Fights rarely stayed as one event. They'd usually argue, try to wrap it up, and then explode again within a few hours, or perhaps even a few days later, but there was almost always a round two, at minimum. Core issues were never resolved, clusters of several related arguments over a week or two were common as well.)

Once I saw an adult hold a gun to their head after threatening suicide.

Once I saw an adult pull a gun on another adult (neither was part of my household).

Maybe 4-5 times over my childhood cops came to our house following arguments and/or violence.

My coping method was to try to be pleasing when the anger was lower-level. Keep things light if you can, but at minimum, don't do anything that might set anyone off. Once anger was bigger, just try not take up any space. Outright leaving (like going to my room) would sometimes get noticed in a negative way, so don't flee, but stay as far away as you can without actually leaving. Like...stay in the living room but sit silently on the couch, pretending you don't even notice the argument happening. Try to go unnoticed...blend into the decor. Stay out of the line of fire when the bombs are going off, basically. And when that failed and you're in the line of fire, fawn/people please to try to 'fix'.

What this looks like for me now, as an adult - is still to try to 'fix' other people's irritation, frustration, low level anger if I can find any way to. Or with 'big' anger, kinda freeze, or try to fawn/people please if it's directed at me. I can't feel safe if others are upset, so I try to absorb it so I can do something about it. And after someone around me shows anything adjacent to anger (like frustration) my brain likes to assume this is just 'round one' of anger, and round 2 will happen soon and will be bigger and scarier. So I'm very on-edge after 'detecting' any anger in my environment, even when it's really small. And my brain tries to pull my down a rabbit hole of finding potential things I've 'done wrong' that might be making this person secretly angry at me. Even when I logically know it has nothing to do with me. My brain wants to find a potential reason it could involve me. I'm pretty good about not letting it go down that rabbit hole very far, but it sure tries - and I have to spend energy holding it back from going there.

None of this is news to me, at all. I sort of forget when I've made certain realizations in therapy, but I think I've known all of this about myself for at least a year? So I wasn't sure there could be anything productive to come out of sharing how someone was frustrated around me this week and it triggered me...and how I knew I was triggered, and talked to myself about how my brain was reacting the way it did when I was a kid, but how my current situation is safe. How someone else's anger isn't a threat to me anymore. How I've created a life for myself that is safe, even when people get angry. I can have tough conversations with those closest to me. I don't get very close with anyone I can't do that with. So I consciously recognized all of this, but it didn't get rid of the anxiety. I stayed frozen in a moderately anxious place, hyper vigilant, unable to focus, and so drained from all of this emotional energy being spent on basically, nothing productive.

I expected my therapist to remind me that I'm trying to literally rewire the pathways in my brain, and I have 30ish years of my brain going down the "anger is very unsafe, I must regulate others' emotions and people-please." pathway. And that was said. As well as some usual points about how some of this equates to expecting myself to be able to mind read, and given that I am not a superhero or someone with magical powers, that expectation is cuckoo for cocoa puffs. I know this, but the reminder is good. But some new things were said too.

They asked if, after detecting someone else's frustration recently, I was able to put a loved one in my own place. We've talked a lot about how it's easier for me to empathize with myself if I imagine someone I care about in my shoes. Would I tell a friend that they should 'fix' someone elses frustration? That if someone sighs in their home that they should become hyper-critical and over-analyze anything they could have possibly done 'wrong'? Of course, the ridiculousness of this is apparent to me when imagine someone else in my shoes. But I admitted to them that I hadn't been able to remember to try using that trick to change perspectives until after I had settled some. That when I'm first triggered, I kinda seem to lose access to that more logical side of my brain that would allow me to try to remember specific suggestions or tools that had been suggested to me. They said it makes sense to forget when you're that emotional, so sometimes visual reminders are good. Like wearing a bracelet with a compassionate statement on it or something. Honestly, that feels cheesy to me, I don't really care for wearing anything that has text of any kind on it, to be honest and growing up with no positive feedback/praise has left me with a strong aversion to positivity like that..which is something else to work on but, one thing at a time. Anyway - I do like the idea of some sort of symbol in my environment serving as a reminder even if it has no text on it. Something that I'd take as a reminder perhaps, without anyone else needing to have a clue what it's about. So it was nice to get a little bit of a fresh idea on something additional to try. But bigger than that...they helped me realize that I have continued my pattern of self-abuse, and just disguised it as trying to help myself.

Meaning...I see myself being triggered, I see myself starting to fall into old patterns of trauma responses to try to cope, and I know that reaction is maladaptive at this point in my life. So I try to stop myself from repeating that old pattern of trauma responses...and on occasion I can stop it in its tracks. But not often with this anger related trigger, it's a real powerful one for me. And when I'm not successful and I find myself becoming hypervigilent and self critical due to someone elses anger..I beat myself up about it! I beat myself up for beating myself up...because I'm 'supposed to' be working on being more compassionate. And that's still part of this cycle, it's just another layer of it. I beat myself up because keeping myself in a position of guilt/shame keeps me small so I can stay in this position of feeling like I am wrong and they are right and I am guilty and need to fix.

It's bonkers that even in my attempts to heal, my old self-harming mindset comes out disguised as a cure for.

In other words..

My logical brain "I need to stop beating myself up. That is a trauma pattern that used to serve me as a kid, but is just harmful to me now."

My trauma brain: "Right! We're hurting ourselves and that's dumb! Let's beat ourselves up about that! That's the solution!"

Fuck.

[candywraptor]

hey, why did you delete the radiodust fic from Alastor's POV? the companion to Ruin

Hello.

Well. It isn't deleted, it's just orphaned. If you didn't have it bookmarked, you can still find it linked through Ruin (last chapter, all the way at the bottom).

I did it that way so that it could still be found and so that people who enjoyed it could still have it but I hated seeing it in my list of works, honestly.

(for those who may be reading this and don't know - Lesser Things was originally posted without the "bad ending" or "sad ending" tags that it currently has now)

After it ended, I couldn't really write anymore. I went from writing for hours and hours, nonstop, everyday - to nothing. I could start but then it would feel like pulling teeth trying to get words on the page. Very, very luckily for me I was impatient and blondes was started before Lesser Things ended. If not for that, I think I possibly would have stopped altogether. But the chapters I put out for blondes did not come easy and I wasn't happy with them - my voice wasn't there. At least not to me.

This went on for several months.

Many people checked in on me during this time and I am very, extremely grateful to them. And I'm pretty sure I said some degree of "at least I can still write!" to all of them but I believe I was, uh - coping? I guess? Because I couldn't - not like I used to and not with any real pleasure. I was so afraid to make a mistake that I wouldn't try at all. Or I would start writing and get flooded with thoughts of whether or not what I was writing was "right". Anything I could manage to force out was so wooden and lifeless to me. I had come to know what it felt like when my brain was moving at the right flow and it was like someone had completely dammed up the current. It was just empty.

And I dreaded seeing Lesser Things in my works. It was a constant reminder of a very big mistake*. Every time I got a notification about it, my anxiety did somersaults. What really kicked it over was that I began feeling distressed when someone would read or comment on Ruin. I wanted to tell them not to - because inevitably it would lead them to Lesser Things and I didn't want someone else to be disappointed with me or have Ruin damaged for them. It was tagged correctly by then, yes, but I still felt a very strong, irrational fear over it.

So, in an effort to get away from all of that and try to start over, I orphaned it. I wanted to delete it, I'll be honest, but I hate the idea of removing something someone might love from existence and my friends agreed that orphaning it was kinder. So I made sure it was linked and tagged and set it free.

It did not help for a long while.

But then I talked with this person in the comments of Ruin - I am still not quite sure who they were - and for once I told them that I was angry for what I had lost and upset that the hobby that brought me new life was seemingly gone from me. I deserved to be corrected for the tagging - I needed to know that fanfiction does not work the same way as a novel or TV show and that what I saw as a spoiler was incredibly important for many readers - but the rest. . .I didn't deserve that. I simply didn't.

And it felt good to not try to be diplomatic and to be upset and honest about my feelings. After that, a friend reached out and we spent some time discussing it, also. Talking about how I really felt, allowing myself to believe that I didn't deserve the hate - something in my head just let go.

Now I can write again - to my own personal standards. I can do it for hours and, even better, I enjoy it. I have so many ideas now - I've gone from nothing to too much! I am still not as prolific as I once was but I am writing and having fun and that matters more than anything else.

I jumped ship, too. I think most people know that. My feelings on RadioDust are complex and I am still not exactly sure how I feel even now. I don't like looking at it but I don't hate it. Maybe ask me in a week and I do. Maybe ask me in another week and I feel nothing at all. Maybe many weeks or months or years from now you can ask that question and I'll say that I love it again. Who knows.

Anyway. . .

I'm sure you weren't looking for a novella but, hey, it was a complicated question.

In short - it isn't deleted. If you want it, you can find it. And as for why - because it was fucking with my head and I needed my head unfucked. That's the simplified version.

(*the mistake in question is not the content of the ending. Lesser Things ended how it was intended to end and it will always be that way. Period.)

[antiadvil]

what's childhood trauma au?

WIPs

So I think I’ve talked about the background of the idea here but not much about what the fic actually is. I’m trying to be mysterious because all I have is an outline and like 400 words and I don’t want to disappoint people by never finishing/publishing it. But I'll talk a bit about the premise and maybe share something from the outline.

the backstory is that my best friend did not remember having any friends growing up until her parents revealed that one of their neighbor kids came over a lot, and her parents found it annoying so they starting telling the other parents that my friend was grounded and couldn't play. Because it was more convenient for them if she was playing quietly alone in her room, I guess. Which, I don’t think I need to say, is incredibly fucked up. After her parents told this story, she remembered some bits and pieces of this, but before her parents brought it up again the entire memory was sort of repressed.

And here is where I’m going to clarify that I’m writing all this with my friend’s full permission bc it sounds kinda fucked up to jump from that to “anyway so now I’m writing a fic about that” 😭 we both have similar attitudes towards most of our trauma which is: humor and fic are really good coping mechanisms actually. So I thought she might enjoy a fic based on this premise (I was already planning to write something incredibly specifically tailored to her tastes for her birthday and it’s hard to get more tailored than this) but because it is a pretty intensive project to just drop on someone I asked if she thought it would be a good idea and she said “yeah you have to write that the author’s note would be so funny.” So here I am though admittedly I think this is too big of a project to actually complete by September and I may need a different idea for this year’s birthday, unless I start posting before I finish which I’m meh on since the outline could still change (but I’ll see how things go once I finish my hospital fic and start focusing more on this).

So, yeah, it’s a fic where Dan and Phil are childhood friends, Dan’s parents drive Phil away, Dan represses the memory, so he doesn’t actually remember Phil as anyone other than that neighbor kid, while Phil remembers being friends and then Dan just suddenly not being there, and Phil assumes it was Dan voluntarily pulling away. The story follows them reuniting in high school.

As you can probably imagine, this wasn’t a one off thing. Dan’s parents just suck. There are a lot of weird fucked up things my parents did to me as a child that I didn’t realize were weird and fucked up until I talked to other people about it. There were many other things I did know were weird and fucked up. Living in that household caused me severe mental health issues, and I still have minor siblings who live with my parents. So, yeah, mainly this fic is about that. I literally made a list of fucked up stories from my childhood and gave them to fictional Dan. Not all of the things that happened in this fic actually happened to me (and a lot of the ones that did are exaggerated in some way) but many did.

I don't have much writing done yet (400 words is an overstatement actually) but I do have it fully outlined, here are some fun notes from my outline document (mostly actually funny even though the piece is actually very angsty because out of context none of the angst makes sense/is angsty/i wrote it in a way that sounds funny even though it is not):

phil has a friend group. they will need names.

lots of chances for gay trauma in gym class. as a treat for my hyperfixation brain i’m going to let them take a weightlifting class. phil seems like the kind of student to leave his PE credit for his senior year and need it to graduate

and finally this incredible dialogue exchange in my notes:

phil: so like do you wanna do that again

dan: RIGHT NOW?

phil: no wtf i’m trying to have a conversation about our relationship smh

(The conversation is extremely minimal)

[glowww0rms]

Relapsed - just a vent

I don't even really know what made me do it this time. Just everything, I guess. Once the feeling washes over you there isn't really any question- you just go through with it. For me it's usually just this crushing emptiness, it feels like a physical weight on my chest with a brain fog that makes everything feel like it'll stay this way forever.

Just the other day I was thinking about how well I'd been doing, how I had thrown away the tools and it had been months and all of the scars had settled down into that uniform white. Even so, I can never fully commit to the idea of recovery in my mind. It's difficult to see a point in trying to picture a future where I never relapse again, and honestly a part of my brain doesn't even want to. It's like something I need to keep in my back pocket for when things gets bad again, and if I try to throw away the idea of that coping mechanism being there for me when I need it, I'll just be hopeless.

I know a big part of it is the need for control, something that's mine in a way. And in some fucked up way it feels like part of my identity, I guess? Not outwardly- I could count on one hand the number of people I know who I've spoken to about it. But I can't separate my internal sense of self from all these stupid fucking self-destructive tendencies.

It's all just pointless though, so unbelievably pointless. It's been almost a decade of this shit and nothing to show for it but fucked up thighs. Sometimes I wish I would just spiral for once in a way I couldn't hide, be forced into getting help because I can't ask for it myself. I don't know. I'm just so tired.

[waugh-bao]

Always love when Charlie, being a smol, finds himself being pushed around as his bandmates show him their love. In the gifs you posted and also the 'end of the zip code tour' video when Mick pulls Charlie forward to get attention and ends up sort of shoving him around. In these cases, Charlie is the puppy and the others are the kids that have to be reminded to play gently with their pet. "Keith, I know you love him, but remember you'll hurt him if you hug him too tight." They are just too cute.

Me too!

They definitely didn't mean any harm, and generally they tried to be gentle, but sometimes they got a bit overexcited and couldn't quite contain themselves.

It reminds me of that Keith quote from 1995:

"I drove up to the joint we were rehearsing in one afternoon, and I could hear these drums going. I thought ‘Ah, Charlie’s here’. So I killed the engine and sat in the car for about five minutes listening to him playing...Then I started to get my stuff together to go inside, and I happened to see myself in the driving mirror. I had this silly grin on my face. I didn’t even know I was smiling, but that’s what Charlie does for me.”

Charlie just existing, and being himself, made them happy.

Although it sounds funny to mention science here, there's also a concept in behavioral psychology which I suspect explains it a bit. Basically, a bunch of neuroscience researchers at UCal a few years ago proposed the idea of "cute aggression"; when adult humans see cute things (small things with big eyes like young animals and babies mostly) they tend to have an urge to squeeze, pinch, and push those things around. Which for evolutionary reasons is the brain's way of coping with being overwhelmed by adorableness. So I'd guess they were sometimes simply clumsy, and sometimes victims of brain chemistry, because Charlie was tiny with big blue eyes and what Keith called his “distinguished gray hair”, which was all very cute to them.

And yes, compared to everyone else, he was definitely the smol:

The funny thing is that, though Ronnie is personality wise the over-excited puppy of the group, Mick and Keith were actually the ones who were worse (in a loving way) at containing themselves when it came to Charlie. Like the Zip Code Tour video:

(Ronnie and Keith very valiantly come to Charlie's rescue there).

Or anytime Mick decided he was going to get Charlie to see how much the audience adored him:

Keith is equally guilty, though. Dragging him across the stage and showing him off to people like a little kid with his favorite stuffed animal:

Or whatever he was doing to Charlie here that Mick finally had to intervene by smacking him on the belly in a bid to save their drummer:

Ronnie, like I mentioned, was generally better behaved:

But there was a cute instance on the Bigger Bang Tour where he got over enthusiastic, startled Charlie into almost bumping into Keith, and then Keith checked in on Charlie for a minute before (jokingly) running across the stage after Ronnie:

I think, in the end, the biggest part of the reason they always treated Charlie with that almost childlike sort of delight is because they wanted him to be their drummer nearly from the time they started the band, but it took them something like a year to actually get him to join and they really believed they'd never get him. He was 2 years older, employed as a top graphic designer, had a lot of success with Alexis Korner’s band, they didn’t have enough money to afford to pay him a good salary, etc. Although he played with them on and off, it was a very real possibility for a while that he wouldn't join. And like Keith said, when they got Charlie is when things truly started happening. He was their missing heartbeat.

There was a sense of wonder and gratitude in him being theirs that never left them, which shows itself beautifully in how their excitement over him never faltered.

[the-avengers-ate-my-tongue]

The Storm

Summary: You work with Jack Crawford and Alana is your cousin, both of you live together for a long time. She gets caught up with a flat tire far away and asks you to let Will in, for he's expecting her. A storm is coming, and she keeps taking longer and longer to show up. Will the universe conspire in your favor?

Pairing: Will Graham x reader

Warnings: swearing, insinuation of smut, fluff.

Word count: 4.328

A/n: I'm starting to consider changing this tumblr for a Hannibal one, mostly Will Graham, so some requests from other fandoms would be nice haha hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing ♥️

*not my gif

There wasn't a thing such as a boring day at the BAU. 

At least not when you're part of Jack Crawford's crew. There was always an interesting case to focus on, a disfigured body to study the reason of death, it was always a thrilling hunt for evidence. The best experience I've ever had so far in my career, and I could only thank my cousin Alana for putting me on the Guru's radar. I was a great crime scene investigator, albeit a little younger than people gave me credit for. I taught people not to underestimate me over the years, though. I got here by my own effort, being a tenacious, hard-working woman who wouldn't get a no for an answer. 

I got along well with my crewmates, Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price, though our relationship hardly extended for life outside work. Except for Beverly, we went out for a couple of beers sometimes, she was fun, witty and I really liked our conversations. Jack was the big boss, and that was it. I had a lot of respect for him, and I knew he didn't regret bringing me to his team, I could see it in his eyes in the first case I've got. I was very cunning when I shared my insights about the cases, sometimes I saw things no one else could, no one but…

Of course, I was far, far away from being a Will Graham. But ever since I was younger, I've had this sort of intuition that helped me to solve problems, I would solve riddles easily and when people asked me how I got to the answer, I wouldn't know the steps, I just knew deep in my bones I was right. That happened a lot when I was growing up and was even stronger now that I knew how to use it. It was some artifice of my inconscient, something I could always count on. It included everything in my life, math, logical thinking, riddles. My brain picked things I couldn't perceive clearly, bringing them to the clear waters of my conscience. 

Will Graham was a curious man. He intrigued me from the very first moment I saw him at the house of one of the last victims of The Minnesota Shrike, Garret Jacob Hobbs, now dead. He was practically hiding in a corner, his eyes closed behind the lens of his glasses, dark wavy hair, jawline for days. He seemed highly focused until Beverly started to talk to him, pulling him out of his daze. He could barely look at her, or at me, and although he looked socially awkward and troubled, he still managed to look like a daydream. I studied every inch of his face, lowering my gaze when he seemed to get uncomfortable, after smiling lightly. I was a bit shy myself. I lived with Alana and, when I got home that night, I absentmindedly asked her about that curious handsome man who seemed to be out of place, yet so connected to that scene. She started to talk about him, but stopped once she noticed my interest. Then, she told me he was a very unstable person, that she wouldn't even be alone in the room with him because of her professional curiosity. As time passed and he solved more and more cases, I could see how people looked at him like an attraction of the zoo. However, not me, and later, not Beverly. Brian didn't seem to like him very much, I could see. Envy, perhaps? Nevertheless, the more I saw Will, the more intrigued I got. He avoided eye contact like the plague, but as I was always friendly and tried my best to treat him like a normal person, not focusing only on work, dead bodies and serial killers, I saw more of those beautiful blue eyes. He knew I was Alana's cousin, and I sooner realized he had a fling for her. 

And boy, did that break my silly little heart. I wasn't surprised, though. Who could blame him? Alana was amazing. I never felt resentful for that, but as time passed, I started to detach from the idea of Will being somewhat more than a simple acquaintance. That afternoon, I was going home from work when I got a call from Alana.

"Speak fast, I'm driving." I said, keeping one hand on the wheel and the other holding my phone.

"You're going home? Great. I invited Will so we could talk about a profile I'm building, but I got caught up here. I already spoke to him, he's almost there, can you let him in? He said he'll wait, and I'll be home in about fifty minutes, no more than that, hopefully." She said in a hurry, and I felt my cheeks burn a little. Will and me? Home alone? 

"I…" I hesitated, chewing my bottom lip nervously. "You won't be long, right? Heard on the radio there’s a storm for later."

"I won't, promise. Just let him in, he's already aware I'll take a little longer to be there. See you soon. Thanks, Y/n!" She hung up, not leaving me any time to answer. I put the phone down, still chewing on my bottom lip. I could feel excitement rising on my stomach, making me feel slightly nauseated, and noticed my hands starting to sweat.

Please. That was ridiculous. What was I, a teenager? I was a grown-up, well-succeeded woman, for God's sake. I rubbed my hands on my jeans, driving a little faster than I usually did almost unconsciously. I got home after twenty minutes, parking outside the pretty house. Will was already there, leaning against his car, so lost in his thoughts he barely noticed I'd arrived. I looked at my reflection at the mirror hurriedly, fixing my hair, pinching my cheeks to look less pale, brushing my eyebrows with my fingers to make them look neat. I wasn't even wearing any lipstick today. It had been a long day at work. 

I opened the car door, exiting the vehicle, the noise from shutting the door finally bringing him out of his daze, and he finally seemed to notice me. He smiled lightly, lowering his eyes. He had his glasses on, but as soon as he saw me, he took them off, hanging them on his shirt.

"Hey, Will. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long. There was a little bit of traffic." I justified, walking to the porch and waiting for him to follow me. 

"Y/n. Not at all, I just got here. Alana explained what happened, thanks for coming to let me in. Hope I didn't ruin any appointment you may have had." He waited until I unlocked the door, and we finally were engulfed with the warm air of the heater.

"Nope, I was coming home, no appointments lost. Please, come in. I'm not sure you've ever been here before, but make yourself home." I hung my trench coat, sighing with the pleasure of being home. I loved the atmosphere of that place. "Can I get you anything? Water, soda, beer…"

"Thank you. I'm fine. And no, I haven't been here before." I held back the temptation of saying "good", biting my bottom lip as I watched him sit on the couch. I just stood there for a while, not sure of what to do next. 

He frowned a little, probably thinking why I was acting so weird, and that made me nervous, because it was just an easy step to realize my silly crush on him. Did he know? What if Alana said something? Said something? For fuck's sake, he was Will Graham, he could probably see that written across my stupid face! Shit, he knows. I'm making a fool of myself. Why do I even…

"Is everything okay?" His voice startled me a little, pulling me out of my neurotic breakdown, and I wondered how my facial expressions looked. Was I blinking only one eye like the stereotyped madness of cartoons? I certainly didn't look normal. I cleared my throat, laughing lightly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I'm not really used to having people over anymore. I've been working a lot lately. People are dying like flies." I sat on the armchair in front of him, sighing. 

"What we do can be overwhelming sometimes. What we see every day. It just… stains you." He said, with a dark look on his serious eyes. 

I nodded. I felt that way sometimes, but I was used to it. I stopped feeling that sense of inadequacy on my chest years ago. 

"I guess you just begin to cope with it, though. Our brain adapts to that harsh reality. But it's always nice to vent somehow. What do you do in your free time?" I asked, wondering if I was getting too personal. Did I sound like I was probing to ask him out?  I felt my face getting warm. Damn it.

Either he didn't realize, or he was just too chivalrous to point, but he didn't mention anything.

"I fish." He said, simply. I nodded with a light smile.

"And you play with your doggies." I pointed, smiling wider. I loved dogs. He'd mentioned them before, so I just brought the subject up, trying to shift the attention from me to them. Will smiled back, his eyes with a subtle glow. He really loved them, and that was so sweet. "Fishing sounds nice. Unfortunately, I could never. I'm too restless. I'd probably startle all the fish and wouldn't catch anything."

He laughed, and that was the first time I ever heard that sound coming out of him. I felt like I was someone deaf that was able to hear the sound of Mozart's symphonies for the first time, and I just knew. There was never detachment from the idea of Will being more than an acquaintance. It was tackled down inside my brain somewhere, for the brain tends to adapt to harsh realities, but it was still there, just waiting for some incentive. 

"It's just a matter of training, getting used to it. I could teach you someday… if you want." He blinked a few times, as if he was surprised with his own boldness, smiling lightly. "And you? What do you do to vent?" He asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"Well, I read a lot. Maybe I could read by the riverside while I watch you fish." I said, shrugging with a subtle smile.

"It's a date, then?" Will inquired, making me mortified. Caught me by total surprise, and when I was about to say something, my phone rang.

"Excuse me." I answered the phone. It was Alana. "Hey. We're already here waiting for you."

Not that I wanted her to arrive any time sooner, but she didn't have to know that.

"You won't believe me; I've got a flat tire. There's a guy helping me out, I was lucky, I'm in the middle of nowhere. But I'll get there in about fifty more minutes, more or less. Can you put Will on the phone? I'll explain everything to him."

"Do you need one of us to pick you up? I'm sure he wouldn't mind, I wouldn't…"

"No, he's almost done. Thank you. Let me talk to Will, I'll be there soon. The storm is about to catch me, I wanna hurry."

I sighed, grimacing at him. 

"She wants to talk to you." I passed him the phone, studying his expressions while he talked to her. As I looked at the window, I could see the dark clouds gathering up, making the end of the afternoon murky. The storm was about to hit hard. I could see a few thin drops of rain starting to wet the glass.

"I can stay a little longer, no problem. I'm being well attended." He traded looks with me, biting his lip slightly. "Okay. I'll see you soon, Alana."

He gave me the phone, but Alana was already gone. I put it on the coffee table, getting up.

"I think I'll pour myself some wine. Do you want some?" I asked politely. "It's one of the fanciest ones; Hannibal gave us a bottle when we dined at his house a few days ago."

"Yes. Thank you." He waited for me to come back with the beverages, and I did my best not to spill anything, sitting on the couch beside him while I gave him the glass. "So you're acquainted with Dr. Lecter?"

"Oh yeah, he's an old friend of Alana's, sometimes he invites us to dinner. He cooks the best meals I've ever had in my entire life, so I don't exactly decline the invitations. And he's one of the most brilliant people I've ever met, so it's always interesting." I took a sip of the crimson liquid, moaning low in pleasure. Good wine. I preferred a good cup of hot oolong, but it was impossible not to appreciate the quality of that drink. 

A few glasses after and a lot of talks about dogs, fishing and other hobbies, he finally felt safe to bring back the topic. The rain had started really pouring, the now thicker drops hitting the windows loudly. Alana hadn't called again. It was nighttime now, the sky seeming to be darker than usual. I was low-key worried about her, but the conversation was too great to interrupt. She was a good driver. She would be just fine. 

"I've been seeing Hannibal Lecter in his office. Not exactly his patient, though. A courtesy of Jack Crawford to keep an eye on the coping of my brain functions." He sounded a bit bitter, drinking a few sips of his wine.

I could see he didn't like therapy. Must be hard with someone with a mind like his.

"You know, sometimes, Alana psychoanalyses me. Like, she doesn't even notice. It's cute, but sometimes it creeps me out." 

"She has a professional curiosity about me, but she's too polite and considerate to let it slip out. We've never even been alone in the same room together."

I held back a bitter comment, not wanting to talk shit about my cousin, but he saw it right through me. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to put you in a complicated position."

"I know. You're sweet." The word slipped through my tongue before I could contain it. Will blinked a few times, seeming surprised, and I felt my cheeks burn, starting to stutter. "I meant… I'm sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?"

"No, no. It's just… no one's ever called me that before." It was my time to get surprised. He didn't seem to be complimented much, and that just made me flabbergasted. I couldn't be the only one who saw how fantastic Will was.

"... Ah. Well, some people are just shy. I'm shy as hell, don't even know how I had the nerve to say that, it's probably the wine starting to kick in. Hope I really didn't make you uncomfortable, though. Don't need to be polite, it's okay to tell me."

"Actually, I'm curious to know what else you think of me. I sense it's not the only word you have to define me." He sounded bolder, and his eyes were on mine, giving me shivers down my spine. 

"Well… I think you're too exceptional to be defined with a few words. You're… Kind, brilliant… I see how seeing what you see, doing what you do, how it wrecks you sometimes, and you just keep doing it because you're saving lives. That's so selfless, Will. That's…" I was going to say more, but at that very moment, a loud thunder just made the house practically tremble, and I let out a real inelegant weep, coming closer to Will and holding his arm firmly, my fingers grabbing on the fabric of his shirt. He could've thought it was an artifice to get closer to him, but he could see how frightened I was, trembling like a cornered wild little beast. I hated thunders, fireworks, anything loud. Feeling ridiculous, I released his shirt, apologizing with embarrassment.

"It's okay. It's just noise. I'm here." He put some of my hair that had fallen to my face behind my ear with such a tenderness that I felt my stomach twitch, realizing suddenly how close we were. He was looking at me as if it was the first time he was actually seeing me. 

The phone rang again. Alana! I grabbed it from the coffee table, turning to face Will. He wasn't avoiding eye contact anymore, his pupils were dilated. My breathing was accelerated, and I knew it had little to do with the thunder.

"Lana, is everything okay?" I asked with genuine concern. "Are you close?"

"Ah, Y/n. I'm so sorry. I don't think I'll make it in time, I'm driving slow, the roads are slippery because of the storm and it's pretty foggy. I'll stop at a motel and spend the night, or at least wait for the storm to pass. I'm so furious with myself!"

"It's okay cuz, do what's safer for you. I'm sure Will will understand. I'll pass him the phone." I gave him the phone and he talked to Alana for a few minutes, but I wasn't listening. She'd ruined the moment unintentionally, and now he was probably going home. When would I have an opportunity like that again? 

"Okay. Don't worry. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Alana. Take care." He gave me the phone and I put it on the coffee table again. Before any of us could say anything, another thunder cracked the sky, and this time, Will held me so I wouldn't be afraid. The lights went out, and he held me against his chest protectively, making me smell his aftershave and some perfume. He smelled so good. For a moment, I just stood there in his arms, feeling his warmth, his breath, the steady beats of his heart. 

I moved away just a little to see his face, very close to mine, but it was so dark I could only see shadows. A lightning lit up the room and, just for a little moment, I could see his gorgeous eyes staring at me. After a soft touch of his thumb on my lips, he finally kissed me, so gentle, like I could break as fine china with any rougher move. I touched his neck with both my hands, playing with his hair, feeling how soft they were. He pulled me closer, his hands on my waist, and the kiss started to get deeper, voracious, as if we were hungry for each other. Maybe the wine was helping to raise the lust; all I know is that I've wanted that to happen for a long time. Will's kiss was everything I imagined it would be, but entirely different at the same time. All I could say was that he was great at it. His hands traveled through my body, and I grabbed his hair, pulling it slightly. That made a low growl echo through his chest, and I started to feel my body fervent as a bonfire.

I couldn't say much because I was breathless and I didn't want to stop what we were doing, so a single word left my lips as I kept my forehead on his.

"Stay."

Will bit his lip, kissing me again, and that was all the answer I needed.

xx 

Morning. Thin sunrays illuminated my bedroom floor through the curtains, waking me up. The storm was gone. I haven't had a nice night of sleep like that in ages. I looked at the other side of my bed and there was Will, sleeping heavily. It wasn't a dream, after all. Last night really happened. I smiled, staring at the roof with disbelief in my eyes.

I stared at him for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. Should I just let him sleep? He looked so heavenly, his hair was messy, his breathing steady, he seemed so less troubled than he usually was. I touched his hair lightly, caressing it with tenderness, and he started to move. I could see his neck, and a few hickies we marked on his albescent skin. That made me blush a little bit, and I laughed silently. 

He opened his eyes while I still touched his hair, but I didn't stop, and he didn't seem to want me to. We stared at each other in silence for a few moments, and he smiled, a different smile than the usual ones he gave me.

"Hi." He said, pulling me closer by my waist, stroking the skin under the sheets. I pecked him on the lips, then kissing his forehead, his cheek, his jawline. 

"Hey there. Good morning. I'm starving, are you having breakfast with me?"

"Actually, I gotta go home. Feed the dogs." He said, stroking my nude shoulder with his finger.

"Of course. Your dogs. I won't keep you then, poor babies must be so hungry." I kissed his cheek and was about to get up when he pulled me again, gently kissing my lips. I smiled, probably looking like an idiot. A joyful idiot. "I'll let you get dressed. I'll be in the kitchen."

I dressed up in my long and black robe, smiling at him before I left the room, going to the kitchen, where I started to make some french toasts. After a few minutes, I heard the front door open, and an exhausted Alana came in, her hair frizzy and her coat looking still a bit wet.

"Oh, Lana! Go change, you'll get a cold!" I stopped what I was doing, going to her and helping to take off her coat.

"That storm was a nightmare. I swear I won't ignore the warnings ever again. I'm so sorry, I had no idea it would get this bad, yesterday was one of those days where everything just goes wrong. Hope Will arrived well at home, did he seem disappointed or annoyed before he left? I was so inconvenient…"

I didn't even have time to answer, because Will opened my bedroom door, coming out while buttoning his shirt, suddenly realizing Alana was there.

"Oh." Alana said, looking so flabbergasted I almost laughed at her. Will rose his eyebrows at the sight of her, seeming a bit unsure of what to do or say. I wasn't planning for her to find out like this, it was a bit early, I wasn't expecting her to arrive so soon. "Hi, Will."

"Alana. Hi." He avoided looking at her, staring at me, and his eyes immediately softened. I smiled, he smiled back, and that was it, Alana was forgotten.

"Off you go to feed your children." I joked, biting my bottom lip. "I guess I'll see you later, then."

"Definitely." He simply said, kissing my forehead while caressing my hair, certainly a little embarrassed to kiss me in front of Alana. "See you later, Y/n. Bye, Alana."

"Bye, Will." I waved with a soft smile, and he grabbed his jacket, leaving the house.

My smile grew larger and I left my head fall back, squeaking low in commemoration. What a night! What a morning! I never thought I would thank a storm so much, let alone a bloody thunder.

Before Alana could say anything, I realized Will had left his glasses at the coffee table, and I picked it up in a hurry, bursting through the front door and calling him before he left, waving in front of the car.

"You forgot your glasses!" I said, and he opened the car windows, raising his hand to pick them.

I leaned against the car window, putting the glasses on him, and kissing his lips fiercely. He moaned in surprise, holding my face to deepen the kiss. After a moment, I pulled away, appreciating the view of his lips so reddish. 

"Go back inside, it's cold." He said with a cheeky smile, and before I could say he actually made me hotter, he took off with the car.

I went back inside, where Alana was waiting for me with her arms crossed. 

"What the hell did you do to Will Graham?" She asked, sounding severe, but a smile was trying to escape her lips "I mean, besides trying to suck his soul with your mouth a few moments ago."

"Oh, shut up!" I laughed, blushing violently. "You made that happen, you know? Thank you. Was that a set up or did the universe actually conspire in my favor?"

"I wish I'd planned this. That would mean I would've had a plan b and I wouldn't have stayed at that disgusting mote… Y/n, you're full of hickies, I can't believe you!"

"You're starting to sound like my mom, Lana. I'm gonna wear a turtleneck, don't worry, I don't want Beverly all over me like a bloodhound and Brian and Jimmy's witty comments today. In fact, keep it to yourself, okay? Will's discreet. I won't even tell Beverly, if she finds out, the whole bureau will know, hell, maybe even Freddie Lounds."

"I told you to let it go, Y/n. Will's very unstable right now. I… I only want what's best for you." She said with concern in her bright blue eyes. I sighed, walking to her and kissing her cheek with affection.

"You're a good cousin. But I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself, okay? Unless this isn't only about me, unless it concerns something else." I raised an eyebrow while staring at her, more confident that I've ever been. "Is there something you wanna tell me?"

She hesitated, clenching her jaw, but never spoke. 

I smiled, tapping her cheek very lightly in approval.

"I gotta get ready to work. Wanna grab lunch with me later?" I asked in a casual tone, a cynical smile on my face. She shrugged. "See you later then, cuz."

[mulderwantstobelieve]

I Don’t Want You To Go Home Tonight

I Don’t Want You To Go Home Tonight

“Mulder... why are we choosing to be alone?”

Rating: PG-13

Description: A Post-Ep for the flashbacks shown in Per Manum. Scully’s IVF treatment has failed and Mulder decides to stay with her that night to comfort her with wine and her favorite salad.

Author’s Note: Basically, this fic is my idea of what led up to their “First Time”. I love the idea of All Things being their first time, but this is my IDEAL first time story for them. I think it makes sense with the IVF story arc and with their characters. I imagine this happening somewhere between All Things and before Requiem (probably right before Requiem).

cover photo yoinked from @iddoitforfreebaabe

******

"Never give up on a miracle," Mulder told her, his forehead placed against her own. Scully sniffled as she felt some snot trying to escape her nose. She pulled him in to give him a tender kiss on the cheek and then into a hug.

Mulder's closeness made her feel she was at yet another crossroads in their partnership. Part of her, the one that felt insecure and afraid, could tell him "Go home, Mulder, I'll be fine."

She was tempted to retreat to her room and send him to worry about her somewhere else. Anywhere but in front of her. They could go back to work next week and move on from yet another traumatic event, travel to a new city or state, and they could carry on without letting each other in.

This loss, the impossibility of becoming a mother with her own flesh and blood, was making her soul the weight of a millstone. She had nothing left. Chasing monsters and fighting all the damn time wasn't keeping her alive anymore. It was making her feel old now. Hasn't it gone on long enough?

That part of her wanted him to stay, the part that felt too tired to keep going. That part of her wanted him to slow down and not leave her behind. She wanted him to stay.

Before she could speak her mind, Mulder broke the silence.

"I'm staying here for a while. To make sure you're going to be okay."

Despite the battle going on in her mind, she let him make the decision. Honestly, she was too tired and her brain was so overworked to even talk. She gave him a nod against his shoulder and pulled away to look at him.

Mulder became aware of how dry his mouth was as he felt a small pang of anxiety in his stomach. He felt the weight of the atmosphere, not just from grief of Scully's lost hope, but because he was at a crossroads of his own.

Earlier, he had sat on Scully's couch for what seemed like hours, his mind reeling with all of the choices to be made. He thoughts of two worlds: Scully is pregnant, Scully is not pregnant.

If Scully were to be pregnant, what would he do? How would he fit in to her life? They hadn’t exactly discussed that part of it. Would he be around to become crazy uncle Mulder, sharing tales of myths and Sasquatch and teaching the kid baseball? Or would he and Scully drift apart as she enters motherhood? Would he be present to watch a child grow up with her eyes and his smile, her hair and his nose, her stubbornness and his adventurous spirit... without feeling connected to them? Would he watch as their child goes through first days of school and college, one day getting married, and having children?

Would he remain on the outside as an observer, watching everything happen in montages while he goes home alone, chasing whatever the hell comes next?

But there was another option: he could be here. He could feel happy with her. He could hold her when she feels sick or insecure. He could tell her he loves her. He could hold his child in his arms.

He could be a father.

These thoughts would have scared him a few years ago, but things have changed. And even if Scully were to come home with the news that they weren't having a child, they couldn't go back to their comfortable invulnerability anymore. Not after this.

Mulder pondered these thoughts again as he and Scully stood there for another minute, his arms still wrapped around her waist. He hoped he was comforting her despite the depressing results. Though they both knew there was a high chance the IVF wouldn’t work and Scully becoming pregnant was nearly impossible, it was hard to accept that believing wasn't enough this time.

"I'm going to take a shower, I might be in there for a while. I need to be alone," Scully said as she broke their embrace. He raised a hand to her cheek, but she stared at the wall behind him.

"I'll be here." She gave him a small smile in return and disappeared down the hall.

He decided to go pick up some food from a place down the street he knows she likes. They have these strawberry poppy seed salads that she'll even eat when lacking an appetite. He could at least try whatever he could to get her mind off of this.

He picked up some wine as well, hoping that it may dull her pain. He tried to think of all the topics he could bring up to get her mind off of it, knowing it wouldn't help much, but he could make a strong effort.

A short while after he returned with their dinner, Scully came out of the bathroom. She had taken the time to blow-dry her hair, which he took note of. She still had the energy to dry her hair, which isn't a bad thig but he was aware of the fact that restless working was how she coped, so he needed to be sure she relaxed tonight.

They watched a black and white TV movie that they didn't know the name of. It wasn't interesting, but it was distracting. Mulder and Scully ate their dinner on the couch in silence. He noticed Scully smiling after seeing what he ordered her which made something in his stomach feel warm. A full-tooth smile from her always made him smile back. When the first glass of wine was poured, it became easier to have a conversation.

"Thanks for being here," Scully said after a few moments of sipping her wine. She was facing the TV, cupping the glass against her chest.

"N-no problem," he said a little too quickly, happy she was wanting to talk now. "Actually my plans for the evening were a little boring." He said, facing her direction. He slung his arm over the back of the couch, his wrist hid in her hair.

"Oh yeah, what were they?" She smiled from the inside of her cup. She turned to face him now, her expression lifted.

"It's what I do every Friday night, Scully. Stay late at the office, get Chinese takeout, think about possibly doing my dishes but instead throwing a dart at a map and calling you to tell you we're going to wherever-the-hell, Oklahoma because there's gotta be some cryptic or source waiting for us there..."

Scully began to smile wide and a small chuckle escaped her lips when she realized he was joking.

"...then I take a shower and lay in bed, wondering about the mysteries of the universe. Is that not what you do?" He said, trying to hold back a laugh.

Scully replied with another big smile, "Wow, Mulder, that's exactly my same routine!"

"I thought so!" he grinned, looking at his lap. "Where are your darts, Scully? I'm a creature of habit."

She shot him a jokingly stern look and leaned towards the coffee table to pour herself another glass.

"Actually," she began, "my plans are more like: pick up groceries, clean the bathroom, wash my hair, then get into bed... sleeping soundly because I couldn't care less about Bigfoot or sentient plant life or demons trying to nibble my toes," She giggled and Mulder rolled his eyes.

"You don't have trouble sleeping, Scully? With everything that the universe could hold? You don't even wonder?" He urged.

She shrugged. "I guess I wonder more about stuff that's in my interest. So, less mythical sea creatures and more... real life. I couldn't sleep last night for obvious reasons." She took another swig of wine.

He nodded in understanding. "I guess I do the same thing," he replied.

"Yes, I know you meditate a lot about the Sasquatch, Mulder, but-" she laughed.

"No, no, not just that. Believe it or not, Scully, I am an actual living, breathing man," he laughed and she rolled her eyes. "I think about things that I want. I think about the future. I- I couldn't sleep last night either."

She looked at him, an unreadable expression on her face. "Why's that?"

He paused to form his words correctly and he felt his mouth go dry again.

"I just really wanted this to happen for you."

The lighthearted atmosphere became the familiar, heavy one they felt earlier in the day. They were both remembering what they were trying to escape tonight.

I’m sorry, Dana, but the results came back negative. You are not pregnant.

Scully could hear the words in her head. But she felt Mulder’s empathy, that he was feeling a similar pain. She realized that he lost something too; even if it was unspoken between them, she knew he saw it too. A future.

His words made her smile softly. She looked at him with a tenderness in her eyes he had only seen a handful of times. He saw it in her while she was fighting cancer, while she talked to Emily, while she was informing him of a death of a good friend, when his mother died... and now recently, through the IVF process, he had been seeing more often.

"We're still hoping, right?" He asked, giving her a tender smile.

Scully didn't answer with words. Instead, she set her wine glass on the coffee table and put her arms around him. Her head fell into his chest and they both breathed deeply.

Because of the awkward position of their legs, he decided to lean back and lay down, resting his head on a throw pillow. She accepted his gesture to lay down, remaining in the same position on his chest taking more deep breaths as she remembered the day allover again. He stroked some hair away from her face as his other arm was wrapped tightly around her.

They laid like that for a while, watching the old black and white movie which was full of music and dancing. He waited for her to speak, and if she didn't say anything, he wouldn't mind falling asleep here. Like this.

"Mulder?" Her groggy voice asked. She looked up at him and he hummed in response. "Have you ever felt like there's more? Not... in the universe. But more for you, in this life, in your life. Have you thought of having a family before? Not that it's for everybody."

He continued to gently stroke her hair and replied, "Of course I have, Scully."

Scully nodded in understanding. She didn't resent him for his freedom to start a family if he wanted to; She just wished he could see the joy of it.

There was a pause before Scully started, "At first, I wasn't sure if I wanted to have a family, but after years of traveling, seeing unimaginable things, going through some of the hardest situations of my life... I think at some point, I realized that what I really wanted was one of the most attainable things in the modern world. I can't explain it. Somehow it was the only thing that could be enough for me." She paused for a beat to look up at him. "Do you ever feel that way?"

Mulder met her eyes and rested his thumb on her cheek. He got lost in her gaze for a moment and replied, "I think I'm starting to."

He thought for a moment.

"I think after finding out what happened to my sister, I've started to see things differently. I've accepted the freedom given to me, but it feels emptier than I thought it would."

Finally, she felt a sense of unity between them. Like for the first time, they were on the same page.

Scully then propped herself up on his chest to meet his level and Mulder's arm remained wrapped tightly around her.

She evaluated their position: his arm gripping her waist, her hand on his chest, the smell of wine on his warm breath. This made her heart start thumping a little faster.

An actress in the movie they were watching started singing a song, a romantic song about moonlight and longing. The song seemed to engulf the room, and it was the only thing Scully could hear besides the blood in her ears.

He looked good tonight. Really good. The kitchen light made his features look warm and inviting. His eyes scanned her face, a soft smile appearing on his lips, and she knew she looked quite beautiful herself. She felt beautiful.

Scully then realized she had been staring a little too long without saying anything, and he gave her a subtle squeeze at her hip which reminded her he was actually there.

All this time, they've kept each other at a comfortable distance; seven long years of emotional cushion room, but closing the gap just enough to sneak longing looks and hold hands in the dark.

They could say it's their careers, or they're different people, or they have different desires. But mostly, and they both knew this, it was a shared fear of rejection - that being alone was better than searching for acceptance from someone other than themselves. And they could tell themselves it was enough for them, remaining people who keep each other at a comfortable distance, or they could give in and take a risk for something more.

Mulder swallowed and felt his heart begin to race. He couldn't believe how gorgeous she looked in low light, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her in closer. She was looking at him, almost a drunken haze in her eyes, except she'd only had a glass and a half. Her eyes were bluer than he's ever seen them, and her hair had fallen to frame her face beautifully. Everything was adding onto the emotions clouding his brain - her chest breathing against him, his thumb stroking a bit of bare skin at her hip, their stolen glances at each other's lips...

"Mulder..." she began, her voice hushed and her eyes scanning his face. "...Why are we choosing to be alone?"

Mulder processed her question for a moment. He was tucking some hair behind her ear when he noticed her cheeks were red. He wasn't sure if she was flushed from the wine, or if she was nervous to ask her question. He left his hand resting on her jaw.

If his mouth was dry before, it was a desert now. He was trying to read her face, to predict what would happen next, but only his answer would determine that. He could swear she was inching closer towards him, but it may just be the gravitational pull he felt tugging him to her.

"Are you saying... we have a choice?" He asked quietly, not-so-discreetly staring at her lips now.

She was looking at him in a way that made him dizzy. He couldn't tell if the buzz was from the glass of wine he drank or the way she was making him feel. She, too, seemed to be transfixed on his mouth now.

Scully nodded yes.

He had to remind himself to breathe.

"I-uh-.." He started to form a reply when Scully leaned in closer, not breaking her gaze from his lips. She hovered there, waiting for him to respond.

"Scully.." he said, his breath brushing her lips.

She was too hesitant of her actions, so Mulder reassured her by responding quickly. He pulled her in with the hand that was cupping her cheek, finally placing his lips onto hers. It suddenly felt like a curse broke inside both of them and each one of their fears were fleeing with every second. This kiss wasn't like they had shared for a brief moment at New Year's, this one was urgent and freeing.

His hands wove themselves in her hair, while hers clung to the nape of his neck. Their lips moved at a steady pace, only breaking away to change angles.  The hand that gripped her waist was now trailing up and down her back, catching some bare skin every now and then as her shirt rode up. They couldn't count the seconds, or the minutes, or tell how long the movie had been over since this kiss had started, but Mulder knew he didn't want it to end.

Without breaking their kiss, Scully lifted herself up and put her legs on either side of him, now straddling his waist. It gave him a bit of sobriety as to where things were heading for them tonight, so he slowly broke away. Both of his thumbs were stroking her cheeks now, him and Scully breathing heavy against each other. She was looking at him in a way he had never seen and that made his stomach stir with excitement.

"Scully, I'm-"

"I don't want you to go home tonight," she interjected firmly.

He nodded in understanding, and smiled to tell her that's what he wanted too.

***

Moonlight peered in, leaving bright lines across both of their bodies. The room was still and quiet as they laid there together, Scully softly playing with Mulder's fingers. He held her from behind, and she fit perfectly into his embrace.

"I'm glad I stayed," he hummed softly into her ear. It made her shiver a little bit.

“I’m sorry I ruined your Friday night plans,” She joked.  

“Good one.” He kissed her shoulder gently and breathed her in.

"What's work gonna be like on Monday?" She asked.

"Scully..." He groaned.

"I'm just asking, Mulder," she exclaimed, her voice sounding defensive. "We need to discuss things so they won't become problems later."

"It's going be like working, Scully, but now we have this cool secret that everyone already assumes of us anyway," he said, a touch of sarcasm in his tone. "Don't worry. Just sleep."

His arms felt warm on her belly, which in turn made her feel safe. Mulder smiled as he held her even closer.

[itoshit]

'Thank you, I guess. The issue here is that she's not the only one that I lost. All my loved ones, friends and family included, vanished from my life, either dead or just gone. I'm not a stable person. My mind is fucked up, one day I want to let go of everything and jump from the roof of a building while the other I want to break some bones. It just... doesn't make sense anymore. My life, me even. And I don't know why I'm telling you all that but since you and I are gonna live under the same roof for god knows how long, you should probably know who I really am. I'm not a nice person, Vee. I'm toxic as hell.'

Breathing deeply I didn't dare look at you, too ashamed of what I was doing. Since when I opened up that way?

'And I want you to know that I'm sincerely sorry for what happened to you. The night we spent together was amazing and if I had to redo everything I would still chose you. But, I've never meant to hurt you in any way. Unfortunately I did though and nothing could fix it. But that's linked to what I'm saying since earlier, I'm not someone you can trust because I can't even trust myself. As soon as the issue with the Yamaguchi-gumi is over, I'll disappear from your life.'

Finally reaching the mall's parking I quickly changed the subject without even giving you time to answer. I didn't need one anyway, I knew that people were avoiding me like the plague. And I also knew that the less I was mingling with innocents like you, the better you were. Even if that meant for me to stay alone.

'Just pick everything you want, I'm following you so choose a store and we'll be fine'

You looked uncomfortable at first, probably because you weren't used to be in that type of situations.

Raising an eyebrow at you I chuckled at your indecision.

'I'm gonna choose for you then yeah?'

Taking you by your wrist I dragged you to the first store I found, Gucci.

You kept tugging on my wrist to let you go, saying that there were other shops way cheaper.

'Do I look poor to you Vee? Koko is in charge of Bonten's money, I'm rich. Pick whatever you want or I'll do it for you and it won't be covering an inch of your body.'

Understanding the meaning you took the hint and strolled through the alleys of the shop. The sellers were all around you and it made me laugh because you looked so out of place.

That was cute and refreshing for my dead heart.

At the end you opted for few hoodies and sweatpants.

The next shop was a French brand, Dior I think?

In that one you've chosen some dresses and heels.

And the list went on and on, I was pleasing you and it made me happy.

You chose some sneakers and other stuff like makeup -don't ask me what was what, I wouldn't know.

'Thank you Mikey for everything, you're like my sugar daddy'

I knew you were only teasing but I couldn't help myself. Sliding one arm around your shoulder I whispered to your ear.

'I can be if you want me to'

You were going for the exit of the mall when I pulled you close again.

'You don't have any underwear right? And Victoria Secret is right here. Care to take a look?'

Grinning at your expression, I dragged you into the store, impatient to see what they got.

-Mikey

Mikey as a sugar daddy?? Might write something about that at some point 🤭

deep down i KNEW this was gonna happen. mod your brain is so BIG.

There’s nothing much I can do but allow him to pull us inside the lingerie store. Cheeks burning at the scantily clad mannequin in the display.

Immediately I’m flocked by attendants, rapid-fire questions hurled at me from all angles about my cup and bust size, the width of my hips. When I take too long, they assure me that they’ll measure me properly, tape already in their hands. Barely having a chance to utter a word, I’m even more speechless while they work, wrapping the tape around my waist, back, along my thighs and hips, and my chest, shouting an array of numbers, letters or combinations of both between themselves.

They clap when they’re done, giggling about how they’re gonna find me the cutest sets to wear for my boyfriend and I send a panicked, bug-eyed look to Mikey as we disappear through the aisles. He doesn’t even look phased, sending me a small wave while the shopping bags from all the other stores we’ve hit huddle around his feet like little kids.

Thongs. So many thongs.

They toss hundreds of them into my bag, some with the matching bra to complete the set, cooing how they’ll look so good on me, and how irresistible I’d look wearing them.

He’ll want to rip them off you, one gushes, winking. And I realize they’re talking about Mikey.

I flush again. They had no idea how much he liked ripping clothes.

Wait. I stumble back at my thoughts. Was I insinuating that I wanted Mikey to rip my clothes off? Shaking my head to rid myself of that kind of thinking, I follow behind them, voicing how I also wanted to go for comfort rather than just… appealing to the senses.

They understand me and carry me towards a section full of cheekies, boyshorts and underwear. My shoulders slump in relief— they covered much more than thongs did. When we finally regroup at the cash register, I have more underwear in my bag than I had in my drawers at home. Being spoiled like this would’ve made me swoon in another life, but I couldn’t help but feel like a burden to Mikey, especially with what he confided in me today.

I frown into his head as he moves to pay. He describes himself all wrong. He wasn’t toxic. He was broken, chewed up by life and spat out into a world where there weren’t healthy coping mechanisms to handle the buildup of trauma he accumulated. I wonder briefly to myself why I hadn’t told him that when I had the chance. That’s when I see it— red.

What happened to your hand? I gasp, taking it into mine.

He quickly tries to pull away, but I snatch it back subtly, so as not to alert the cashier of our mini power struggle. I scrutinize the wounds, gaping at the smeared red that had crusted over crimson from neglect. These wounds were fresh. More than that, they were naked, untreated, practically begging for an infection.

Here you are, the cashier beams at us, completely unaware of the tension between us, just high knowing she was the worker attached to such a big sale.

Mikey takes the bag with his uninjured hand. He has no other choice, I won’t let the other one go.

We walk out of the store and into the crowd of people again, chaos ensuing all around us.

Wanna go somewhere else? He asks. I know he’s trying to distract me from the obvious problem sitting atop his knuckles, but I’m onto him. Better yet, I have an idea.

Answering with, Yeah, I’m the one tugging him around, looking aimlessly at stores until I find the one I wanted— a convenience store. To buy supplies to wrap his wound. Properly.

I treated injured pets at my job every day and I was going to treat him too, even if I had to knock him out to do it.