#anyway i’m hoping this eases off so i can write a bit more coherently

[pfhwrittes]

i’m having a high pain day and can’t take painkillers (womp womp) so i’m going to distract myself by thinking of gaz working all the knots out of my fucked up shoulder and neck

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

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“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[nejibaby]

Touch

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Shy Reader

Description: Maybe it isn’t so bad and scary initiating touches after all.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I came here to offer this fluff based on the shy x emotional dork ship dynamic. Fair warning though, I’m not good at writing fluff. I personally believe I write angst the best. Anyway, please let me know your thoughts 🥺✌🏼

Ace is a shameless man. It’s kind of a known fact. He likes showing off. But ever since he started dating you, he has to hold back his tendencies for your sake. Mainly because you get easily shy, flustered, and fidgety — especially when he brags about you to other people — that you just… walk out sometimes from feeling too overwhelmed.

And Ace doesn’t like that, he doesn’t really want you apart from him even if the distance is just a few meters away. Not because he thinks you need protecting, no; he knows you’re capable of doing that yourself. But because he just generally likes being close to you. When you’re by his side, he feels a lot at ease, almost like he’s floating on cloud nine. And being with you makes his rough edges soft.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he thinks that despite the fact that he literally has the power of fire, you’re far more powerful than him. Because you’re the one who’s actually capable of melting him.

To put it quite simply, Ace is whipped for you, and only you.

If there’s another (lesser) known fact about Ace, it’s that he’s actually touch starved. He finds it a bit hard to keep his hands off you, but he’s very mindful about it, learning from the first time he nonchalantly slung his arm on your shoulders while you were conversing with someone. You froze on the spot and lost your train of thoughts as you felt Ace’s familiar warmth and smelled his unique scent. You had to excuse yourself from him and the person you were talking with so you could calm your wildly beating heart. Ace got really worried about you and thought he unintentionally and unconsciously burned you or something, but when you explained that you just got very flustered, his worries faded away instantly.

Since then Ace keeps the skinship to a minimum. In time, he learns that there are “safe zones” where he could touch you freely and you wouldn’t mind.

One, the lower part of your back. Two, your cheeks. Occasionally, your wrist and elbow.

He also learns that you like it when he joins his pinky finger with yours.

And those small, subtle touches keep him satisfied all throughout the day.

Eventually, you start getting comfortable with his touches to the point where you sometimes craved it.

A testament to that is the amount of times when you’d laugh at Ace for withdrawing his hand away from you too quickly when he absentmindedly lets it land on your non-safe zones, instead of heating up or tensing like you usually did. Despite finding yourself enjoying his touch, you never really had the guts to place his hand back to whatever part of your body that it landed on. But that’s fine too because when this happens, he usually counters his embarrassment by tickling you until you tap out.

It’s cute, really, to have him be so gentle and mindful of your preferences. And from all the times he has shown these, today you particularly feel a need to reciprocate his affection.

In your mind, it’s simple. After all, there are so many ways you can show your love physically — holding hands, hugging, kissing his cheek or even his lips. And then there are more subtle touches — like running your fingers through his hair, patting his head, leaning your head on his shoulder. But when you’ve gathered enough courage to finally execute it, you feel like the timing isn’t always right. So it doesn’t happen, at least not until nighttime.

Ace has already dropped you off in your cabin and has bid you goodnight. It’s past an hour after that and yet instead of falling asleep, you find yourself staring at the ceiling and thinking about Ace.

Thankfully it’s his turn for the nightwatch so you don’t really worry about disrupting his sleep. You padded down the deck in hopes of finding him there. The ship is so large that it takes you quite some time before you actually find Ace. And when you do, he’s already looking at you, grinning.

“Can’t sleep, baby?” He asks once you’re within earshot.

You let out a hum as you pout, dragging your feet until you reach your boyfriend.

“My poor baby…” he coos. “Why don’t we talk about whatever until you feel sleepy? I’ll walk you back to your room then. Would you like that?”

“Very much,” you mumble as you settle beside him.

He chuckles; he couldn’t help it. He could feel the bubbling joy inside of him because of the fact that you seeked him after not being able to sleep. He likes the idea that it’s him you’d always go to no matter what the situation is.

A cold breeze then blows the moment Ace’s chuckle comes to a stop and you automatically move closer to him for warmth.

And then the idea of snuggling up with Ace pops into your mind. The thought alone is enough to make you burn up. It hits you though, that this would be the perfect timing to initiate skinship.

So you gather up your courage to do just that. You hesitantly lean your head on Ace’s shoulder. It never occurred to you before just how much warmth you could feel from Ace just by being this close, and quite frankly, it’s relaxing, especially on a chilly night like this.

Sensing no movement from your partner aside from his breathing, you use your final bout of courage to interlace your fingers with his. You find yourself with a small, genuine smile, thinking maybe it isn’t so bad and scary initiating touches after all.

A few minutes later you feel Ace turning his head away. Naturally, you think nothing of it. But when you suddenly feel him vigorously moving his other hand to his face, and hear him sniffling, you get worried.

You raise your head up from his shoulders to look at him. The vigorous movement of his hands was actually Ace wiping something from his eyes.

“Hey, Ace, are you alright? Is there something wrong?” You worriedly ask.

He doesn’t answer.

You use your hand that’s clasped with his to tug him so that he’ll face you. He shows little to no resistance with this, but he does avert his eyes from you.

And yet you’re still able to see his watery eyes. You’re just about to pull your hand from his but he holds on to you tighter. You question, “Are you… crying?”

He only shakes his head.

You use your free hand to cup his cheek and tilt his face so to get a good look at him. “Why are you crying?” You ask.

“I’m not!” He tries to deny it. “It’s just… it’s the first time I… you…” he trails off, unable to form a coherent sentence as he looks at your intertwined hands.

When you notice where he’s looking, you understand what he’s trying to say right away. That explains why he doesn’t have a sad look on his face even with his teary eyes. “You dork! I was so worried!” You retract your hand from his cheek to pound on his chest.

Ace cracks a smile which then turns to a chuckle. “Sorry,” he halfheartedly says. In a swift motion, he raises your linked hands and places a feather-like kiss at the back of your hand.

The small, intimate act partnered with Ace’s loving gaze flusters you right away and you’re tempted to run and hide once again. But with Ace holding your hand tightly, there’s only one place you can take cover.

You bury your face into his chest as an attempt to hide. “I hate you.”

You could practically hear the amusement in Ace’s voice when he says, “I love you too.”

[drwcn]

maybe after today’s acls training i can finally write that chengqing ER oneshot. 

— “Patient male, mid-twenties, motor vehicle collision, eta 3 mins” 

— “What no vitals? No GCS? ETA 3 mins? Who’s on the paramedic team?!” 

— “No one….Dr. Lu hit someone with her car on her way out of the hospital.” 

【A Midnight Conversation in Your Local ER】- Complete

[1] 

The night hunt had gone to shits.

That much was undeniable.

Jiang Cheng heard the panicked shout of his disciples just as he saw the array that he had stepped on.

Fuck.

The ghost of an once mediocre demonic cultivator wanna-be was going to bring Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wanyin - the Sandu Shengshou - to meet his maker. The irony of the situation would be laughable, if he wasn’t so irrevocably screwed.

That was his last thought before his entire body was engulfed by a blinding light and the world he knew disappeared.

The ground beneath his feet gave away, weightlessness paralyzing his body though he did not fall. He felt…launched, his body warping and squeezing and stretching, the air sucked from his lungs into the endless black vacuum.

But just like that it was over. Jiang Cheng barely had time to make peace with his death before his feet touch solid earth again.

Or at least….he thought it was earth, this black, tarry hard thing striped with yellow and white. He stared at it dumbly, breathless and disoriented, barely able to react when a loud blare assaulted his senses and his world went blindly bright yet again.

This time there was pain.

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu, ready to fight, but then his head hit the ground and everything went dark. When he woke up again, an indeterminate amount of time later, he was in a small tube and had a distinct feeling he was not wearing pants, socks or shoes.

How the fuck do you ‘scan’ a cat???  

[2]

Method actor. The nurse, from the other side of the curtain, mouthed silently.

“Sir, can you tell me your name.”

“Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wangyin.”

The resident paused, awkwardly contemplating how to continue. “Uh…..which is it? Jiang Cheng or Jiang Wanyin?”

“Jiang Cheng, zi Wanyin.”

“Traditional parents?” The resident tried to crack a joke, but it fell flat. The strange man stared up at him with a blank look in his eyes and a frown that was rapidly deteriorating into a scowl. The resident cleared his throat and cast his eyes back onto his clipboard. “Uh, ahem, just the name on your ID please.”

“My what?" 

"Your personal ID….like a driver’s license?”

“Cultivators of the gentry fly on swords or ride horses. We do not rely on carriage valets.”

“Eh… right. Uhm, can you tell me how old you are and what year it is.”

“I’m 39, and the year is jiachen.”

Lu Qi frowned from where she stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her resident and medical student work. 39? He looks like a college student. But he also thinks he can fly, so I guess age is the least of our worries. 

“Jiachen.…?”

The M3 fished his phone out from his scrub pocket pocket and typed it in. “Sounds like the ganji system, like an old timey way to record year used in the past.” He whispers clandestinely to the resident.

“….Right. And uh, do you where you are?”

The man scowled at him. “Am I supposed to?” 

The resident scribbled something on the chart, and then looked up with a plastered awkward smile. “Well, thank you Mr. Jiang for your patience. Wang Fei here is the medical student on our team. He’s going to stay and ask you a couple more questions if you don’t mind. Afterwards we’ll confer with our attending and the team will be back to see you shortly.”

As he turned away, the R3 grimaced and shared a look with Lu Qi, who was the youngest attending physician in their ER, but was not technically working at the moment and so was not on the case. And technically, as the perpetrator who hit Jiang Cheng with her car, she had a severe conflict of interest.

At least this Jiang Cheng dude didn’t seem keen on pressing personal charges against her for MVA or suing the hospital in general… but that being said…

Yeah, they’re going to need a psych consult. 

Unless he’s on acid. 

Well… okay, psych consult either way. 

[3]

"It’s okay, you can relax.” Jiang Cheng said, waving dismissively at the woman standing by his bedside. “I’m not going to take you to the magistrate for hitting me with your carriage - car. You didn’t mean to, and I just came out of nowhere.” 

“....Thank you.” 

“You’re not Wen Qing. I know that now. Your name is Lu Qi. You can call off those psychia - psych - psychics - head healers - or whatever, I’m not crazy. It’s not my fault, you just… look so much like someone I used to know."

"Wen Qing.” Lu Qi echoed. 

“Yeah. Wen Qing. She was a healer - a doctor - like you, but different.” 

“I see. What happened to her?"

"She died. Almost twenty years ago."

"I'm sorry... that's awful.” Lu Qi’s response rolled off her tongue so well, because she had said those word a thousand times during her residency. So much so that it no longer had much meaning to her. Tonight however, she meant what she said. “Were you two close?"

"No, well…yes, maybe. No we weren’t exactly friends if that’s what you’re asking. She...operated on me. Without my consent or knowledge. Took my brother’s golden core and put it in me and then lied with my brother to my face about it. So no we weren’t “close”, but Wen Qing saved my life - well the purpose of it anyway. Saved me from a life of ordinariness.” 

Lu Qi did allow herself to dwell too much on what the fuck a “golden core” was, because her gut response was almost instantaneous. “That’s shitty of her.”

She clamped down on her tongue. 

God, why did I have to say that? To his face?! He was obviously in love with this Wen Qing person and they were encroaching on some dangerous emotional territories, but Lu Qi swallowed down her caution and plowed on nevertheless. There were things she felt she had to say, and since she’d already hit him with her car, how much worse could this shit get? “What I mean is she shouldn’t have. Not without telling you. Besides...there’s nothing wrong with ordinary.” 

Jiang Cheng chuckled bitterly. “Maybe you’re right. Still...she didn’t deserve to die. What her clan did was not her fault.” 

Now that threw Lu Qi off. Did this guy...kill her? 

Lu Qi half wondered if she stumbled upon a Yakuza-esque member whose psyche finally snapped after years of murder and violence. And yet, he seemed perfectly coherent, no flight of ideas, no tangential thought, no hallucations. Even his delusions seemed...logical. 

I must be the one losing, damnit.  

Jiang Cheng scratched a little at his chest, as if palpating for the “golden core” that he spoke of. "She saved my life, but when she needed help, I couldn't save her. But, if I were to go back… I can't say I'll choose differently. My clan needed me, my clan who was almost cleansed by hers. No, no I wouldn’t choose differently. I don’t regret my choices, but I am sorry. Sorry to her, sorry to my brother. I'll always be sorry that she died, and that I failed her when she needed me." 

Jiang Cheng had no idea why he was telling this stranger any of this, but maybe after twenty years, he was finally ready to address this guilt that he lived with. I mean who else was he supposed to tell? Jin Ling? It was nice, to have that face as an audience, receiving his words of confession. 

"She would forgive you." 

Lu Qi had no idea why she was offering absolution as if she had authority in this matter, but when she said it, the conviction she felt was so real, it was almost as though some external force was acting through her.

Which was ridiculous of course, but... 

"How do you know? You're not her." Jiang Cheng shook his head. “I wouldn’t forgive me.” 

"No, but you said she was a physician. So she should know, more than most, that sometimes there is no choosing who gets to live or die."

Jiang Cheng fell quiet at that, and his gaze grew distant. Lu Qi thought perhaps he was no longer seeing her as she was in front of him - white coat, scrubs, stethoscope -  but someone entirely different. The tension he held in his shoulders slowly eased, and he sighed. In the silence that stretched between them, Lu Qi hoped that this strange man with his strange past could find a sliver of peace. 

[4]

— Did you love her? 

— I thought so, foolishly, but maybe I didn’t. Even if I did, it was not well enough. 

— Do you love her still? 

— No... I don’t know. It’s been too long...but sometimes, late at night when Lotus Pier is quiet, I think I do. 

...

— Are you ashamed of it? 

...

— No. No I’m not. 

[5]

The patient known as Jiang Cheng left AMA, that is, against medical advice. It was the term they used sometimes for people who just up and leave without informing the team. 

Lu Qi had gone out to check on his labs, which came back with bonker numbers (I mean really, a hemoglobin of 455, sodium of 200, and a HCO3 of like...3?), but Jiang Cheng was gone from Bay 6 when she returned. The nurse made the overhead page, a code yellow was called, but four hours later, Lu Qi was ready to admit that she was never going to see this Jiang Cheng ever again. 

Somehow, she was okay with that. She had said what needed to be said.  

Her chief had given her a call on her cell and told her to go home and sleep. The guy didn’t look like he was gonna press charges, let’s count our blessings and move on. But the night had just been too damn strange that Lu Qi was all wired up from it and couldn’t possibly fall asleep. She had handover at 10 anyway. There was a change of clothes and toiletries in her bag. She could always take a shower in the anesthesia staff’s on call room and sleep until then. 

Dr. Sun was the anesthesia staff on-call tonight and was currently stuck in trauma OR. They were buddies since medschool; she’d understand.

Sighing, Lu Qi took a seat on the bench across from the bougie cafe in the lobby of the hospital. At this hour, it was the only one still open in the entire facility. The drinks they sold cost an arm and a leg, but Lu Qi needed the pick-me-up after the night she had. 

As she nursed the last bit of her matcha latte, two bickering voices pulled her attention to the front entrance. 

“Aiyo, A-Liang I already said I’m fine! I don’t need to be here!” 

“Fuck out of here with that bullshit, Chen Zhaoxi. You fell off the fucking roof! If Wu Kun hadn’t called me, you’d have gone on -”

It was him! Lu Qi shot up. It was Jiang Cheng! 

But no...no it wasn’t him. The well-dressed man dragging the second man (dressed in red pajamas) into the hospital was not Jiang Cheng. He had the same face - chiselled, handsome, scowling - but it wasn’t him. For one, his hair was trimmed short and neat, unlike Jiang Cheng who looked like he walked straight out of a BL xianxia tv drama. Secondly, his face was softer, eyes younger, and he couldn’t have been older than Lu Qi herself in her early thirties. 

“I was just trying to get to the litter of kittens trapped -”

“Yes, yes, and it was very heroic and I’m sure it would’ve made Wu Kun very horny, and you morons probably would’ve fucked once he got home had you not made a valiant attempt at breaking your neck -” 

“Excuse me,” the security guard manning the information desk chastised sharply. “It’s 4am. This is a hospital! Lower your voices, sirs.” 

“Sorry.” The men apologized sheepishly. 

Then, A-Liang, Jiang Cheng’s doubleganger asked, “Could you please direct us to the ER? This is my brother, he fell off a roof.” 

Lu Bin had no idea what possessed her to interject. “I can take you there.” 

All eyes fell on her. She walked towards them, heart pounding. 

This can’t be happening, this kind of thing just can’t happen... 

A-Liang’s face broke into a grateful smile. “Thank you, Miss -” Then his gaze trailed to her badge, and he corrected himself, “Dr. Lu. I’m Shen Liang. This is my brother Chen Zhaoxi. I think he fractured...well multiple things, please help him.” 

“Of course, come with me. Let’s get him a wheelchair. If he fractured is leg, he probably shouldn’t be walking.” 

“I didn’t fracture -” 

“You, you shut up.” Shen Liang rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He can lose three out of four limbs and say ‘ t’s but a flesh wound’.” 

Lu Qi couldn’t help but chuckle as she put an arm under the complaining Chen Zhaoxi and helped him towards the wheelchair. 

Shen Liang’s smile widened. 

[Extra]

“Holy shit, took you long enough!” 

When Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui finally dragged Jiang Cheng to their portal site, Jiang Cheng realized that the transportation talisman had created a channel through realities between what looked like two metal garbage dumpsters in a back alley behind a food establishment marked by giant yellow bunny ears.

Standing guard there, Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen were each munching on a strange layered bread and holding tall drinks contained in...what was it called again? Right. Styrofoam. 

“What is that?” Jin Ling wrinkled is nose at it. Brat. 

“It’s a Big Mac.” Replied Lan Jingyi as if Jin Ling was stupid. “And this is a milk shake.” 

Jin Ling scowled. “I said the bag of gold I gave you was for emergencies.” 

“Yeah but we were hungry.” Ouyang Zizhen defended. He neglected to tell them that the cashier had refused to accept the gold and instead asked for “cash” or “card”, neither of which they had, so Zizhen used a liiiiil confounding talisman he learned from Wei Wuxian. They did leave more than enough gold though...and that ought to cover the restaurant’s cost for their “burger”lary . Reaching into the brown paper bag he held under one arm, Zizhen pulled out a little box that opened to show pieces of... something. “These are chicken nuggets. They’re delicious! Try one! They’re really good with this sauce....hold on...” 

Lan Sizhui sighed. “We don’t have time for this. The portal will close soon. Let’s get Jiang-zongzhu home and we can sample these exotic food later.” 

The boys agreed. 

Jiang Cheng shook his head and huffed. 

[justcourttee]

New prompt idea! Following the defeat of Hawkmoth, Jason is terrified of the idea of Bruce adopting the sunshine child that is Adrien (that and all the puns that the boy makes... Adrien can't meet Dick!!!). He, alongside Damian, decide to try to get Selina to adopt a new cat instead. Unfortunately for everyone (except Adrien), Jon tags along. AdriJon for the ship and maybe Marinette being having a sibling relationship with the Wayne children?

I’m back to writing and when I saw this prompt, I was so excited. If it hasn’t been hinted at enough in some of my pieces, I adore AdriJon. I hope you like it! @elements1999

Stupid Lovestruck Jon

As Gabriel Agreste was drug from his front gates, the crowds surrounding the manor erupted in yet another round of cheers. Even with the hero’s help, the police had trouble keeping them back. Jason and Damian stood on the edge, both wearing matching grim expressions under their hoods and glasses.

“You know what this means D?”

Damian nodded solemnly, the scowl on his face deepening as Gabriel disappeared from their view.

“Father mustn't meet Agreste until we have found a suitable host family for him.”

The idea of Dick and Adrien bonding over stupid puns and forcing Jason and Damian to join in on family game nights was enough to send shivers down the two Wayne’s backs. There was no question about it, Adrien could not be allowed to be adopted.

“What do you think Selina would say if we brought her a kit?”

Damian shifted his gaze to Jason’s face, doing his best to hide his shock that Jason could come up with a coherent idea.

“I believe she would enjoy Plagg very much, Adrien though? Well, that would take some getting used to. How do you propose we get the two to meet?”

Jason’s face darkened quickly.

“It’ll be risky, but we invite them to America. After all, he’s going to need an escape from the media.”

“Perhaps Metropolis?”

The boys nodded as if that was the most logical sentence before both heads snapped up, their eyes widening at the sight of the petite hero that had landed between them. Marinette threw her arms around the boys’ shoulders, dragging them down to her own height.

“There is only room for so much sunshine at the Wayne estate. Dick has monopolized all of it and for the sake of not only you but myself as well, Adrien needs a more stable parental figure than Bruce Wayne. Not that my first choice would be Selena, but I know that she has a soft spot for orphans, no matter what she says.”

Both boys tried to wrestle their way out of her grasp, but it was nearly impossible with Tikki to help her.

“Here’s how it will go. I will go to help the police finalize anything they need for this arrest and you will trail Chat Noir until he decided to transform back. I want to be there as well, but unfortunately, the police aren’t exactly understanding when it comes to personal relationships.”

With a nod, the sound of two smacks echoed as she disappeared into the sky, the only trace of her being matching red spots on both of the Wayne’s necks.

“I really despise when she does that, no matter how much I want to be impressed.”

Jason chuckled as he nudged Damian forward, both of them slipping into the nearest building to change before anyone from the media could catch sight of the American’s on the scene of what would become known as the greatest arrest in Paris’ history.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“You know, I caught the trail of you following me a couple of blocks back. You don’t have to stay hidden.”

Damian let out a small string of curses as he stepped out from behind the chimney and into view of the black cat.

“I hate magic.”

Adrien chuckled as he waited for Jason to step out from the other side, both boys looking a little sheepish that they had been caught.

“Did Marinette ask you to follow me? Cause that sounds like something she would do. Really, I’m fine guys. Once we started the investigation, so much more began to make sense. He wanted to disguise the fact that he was selfish, wanting just my mother for himself, no matter the consequence. Even if it meant sacrificing me..”

Damian swallowed awkwardly as he glanced between Jason and Adrien. Thanks to Dick’s persistent pestering, he had gotten slightly better at reading emotions and watching his tongue, but this was uncharted territory and as much as he hated to admit it, he had no idea what to do.

Adrien let out a shaky laugh as he stood, brushing off the imaginary dust from his suit.

“Whatever, so what is Maribug’s master plan for avoiding the press? I know she sent you here to collect me for that very reason, so what could it be?”

Jason cleared his throat as he stepped forward, his smile completely see-through as the worry shined.

“Well, how would you feel about a trip overseas? Metropolis perhaps? You’re a huge Superman fanboy, aren’t you? Well, Dami here is besties with his son and we thought it would be a grand idea for you to have a distraction. What do you say?”

Damian frowned at Jason’s choice of wording. Besties felt a little strong for the relationship that he held with Jon, perhaps tolerable coworkers was better suited?

“Okay.”

Both boys tried to hide their surprised faces. They knew he was desperate for an escape, but his response was still quick for their liking. Honestly, they thought it was going to take a bit more convincing than that.

“Let Marinette know that I’ll be on her balcony whenever she finishes up. I’m sure she has a long night ahead of her and will want to talk to me when she can and guys?” Both boys raised their eyebrows, curiosity, and worry nitpicking their expressions. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

And with that, he leaped off the roof leaving the batbrothers to wonder if Metropolis would be the best idea for the man who effectively was orphaned in one day.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Dami!”

Before he even had a chance to throw his hands up in defense, Jon had already tackled him in a bone-crushing hug much to his annoyance.

“I told you not to call me by that stupid nickname anymore Kent.”

With much effort, Damian shoved Jon off and into Marinette’s waiting arms.

“Aw, but Dami it’s so cute.” The muffled laughter coming from behind him was not helping.

Damian cut his eyes to where Jason and Adrien stood, both chuckling to themselves. He knew it was Jason’s idea to call up Jon to make this impromptu trip more believable for his father, but when breaking it down, Damian wasn’t completely sure that this option was much better than taking Adrien straight to Dick’s side.

“Anyways, I know I’m just the cover story so that you can meet up with Selina and all that, but do you have time to spare? I’d love to show Mari and Adrien around Metropolis! That’s your name, right? Adrien? Mari used to have so many cutouts of you-”

A smack echoed through the airport lobby as Jon found himself in a headlock courtesy of one petite heroine.

“Oh, you wanna bring that up now Jon? I don’t suppose you remember asking for a couple of my magazines for yourself huh?”

There was an undeniable shade of red emitting from under Marinette’s arm, one all three boys noted. A sputtering Jon finally managed to free himself, the red more visible as he gently pushed Marinette away.

“Hey it’s okay, it’s the cost of being a celebrity right?” Adrien reached out, his hand gently brushing Jon’s arm.

A sudden realization hit Damian as he watched his friend jump nearly 100 feet into the air, the red seemingly brighter than before. As Jon linked arms with Marinette, hurriedly leading them out of the airport, Adrien gently coaxing the two to behave, Damian gripped Jason’s jacket pulling the two of them to a stop.

“What do you want brat? We’re gonna get left behind-” With one killer glare, Jason slowly quieted, curiosity seeping into his expression.

“Jason, is uh- does Jonathon- does he see guys as viable mates?”

There was a slight pause and for a moment, Damian felt a bit relieved that perhaps he was not the only one to fail to notice such a thing about the Kent boy. But the moment ended abruptly as Jason erupted in laughter, drawing the attention from some passing by.

“What is it you buffoon? People are staring at us, silence yourself, and answer me.”

“Me buffoon? No, no, no” Jason’s laughter slowly ceased, but the shit-eating grin that replaced it did nothing to ease Damian’s nerves. “You see, you are the only idiot here. What is Jon? An animal? His mating preference?”

Damian felt his face heating up as his grip tightened on Jason’s jacket, intent on tearing a small hole in his precious belonging.

“Now Damian, I know you are dense, but Jon has always talked about guys with you. Did you just think they were all besties? That your third-wheeling on his dates where they gave each other like pecks on the cheek or held hands was just because you hate physical contact and his other friends didn’t mind it?”

The more Jason talked, the redder Damian felt his face becoming. Sure he had noticed before, but it never felt like it was something that mattered much. Plus, it wasn’t like Jon had mentioned anything to him about coming along on his supposed dates. How was he supposed to know?

Letting go of Jason’s jacket, Damian huffed after his friends, ignoring his brother’s taunting calls. There was only one thought that was still left on his mind.

If Jon had a crush on Adrien Agreste, this could ruin the whole plan.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He was right.

What was implied to be a one day tour ended with them staying a week in Metropolis. And the worst part? Damian was completely powerless to do anything about it.

“Hey enfant démon, you seen my partner or yours for that matter?”

Damian scowled at Marinette as she leaned against his doorframe, her expression as exasperated as he felt.

“I told you to quit calling me that. Just because it’s in French doesn’t make it better heathen.”

Marinette stuck her tongue out at him, remaining firm in her spot as she waited for her answer. With a great sigh, Damian shook his head, glancing from his book to out the hotel window.

“They snuck out sometime early this morning while I was on my run. Jason was supposed to be keeping an eye on them.”

A slight protest echoed through the suite as Marinette shook her head.

“Do you think we’ll ever get Adrien to meet Selina at this rate? I know he needed this break, but I hadn’t expected to be gone this long. I just turned 17, if it wasn’t for Jason here being a technical adult, my parents would have never let me come. I’m honestly surprised that they haven’t shown up to drag me to Paris.”

Damian nodded slightly, his thoughts straying to the idea of an angry Sabine showing up at their hotel. The thought alone was enough to send a shiver down his spine. He opened his mouth, unsure how to respond when he caught the sound of a set of familiar giggles outside the suites’ door.

“We’re home! Marinette! You won’t believe how awesome the sunrise in Metropolis is when you’re so high up. Jon is awesome!”

The boy tried his best to hide his blush as he gently swatted Adrien’s shoulder, earning a giggle from the blonde.

“Okay lovebirds, how about you stop running off without the rest of us? At least tell us where you’re going, is that too much to ask?”

A simultaneous ‘yes mom’ came from the duo as they ducked out of Marinette’s reach, racing down the hallway.

“That’s it, I’m calling Selena right now. Damian, Jason, between the two of you, figure out a way to keep our rebellious teens in check. It shouldn’t take longer than thirty minutes for her to arrive, I’m sure the two of you can manage.”

Jason peeked his head into Damian’s room, his eyebrows raised matching how Damian felt. Did she have any idea how hard it was to hold down a Kryptonian without using Kryptonite? If only she hadn’t banned Damian from bringing it to Metropolis.

With a small huff of annoyance, Damian swung his legs off his bed, placing his book back on the nightstand carefully. This was going to be the longest thirty minutes of his life.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Dammit children, can’t you sit still for one minute!” Jason gripped both boy's collars as he tossed them back onto the couch that they had escaped from.

“Aw, c’mon Jason. I thought you were the fun Wayne! I just want to show Adrien a good time before he had to leave.”

Damian wasn’t sure how much more Jason could take. The vein on his forehead looked like it was about to burst from him resisting beating the two to a pulp. It was honestly a bit satisfying to look at.

“Can you at least explain why we’re on house arrest? The day has just started and we’re already wasting it.”

“I told you already Agreste, Marinette wants you to meet a friend of hers that lives nearby. We can’t have you skipping out before she gets here.”

Adrien sighed dramatically before falling into Jon’s shoulder.

“But waiting is boring!”

Damian felt his nose twitch while staring at the blonde. Honestly, he didn’t know how Marinette was able to keep up with this child-like energy for all the years she had. He was exhausted after a mere thirty minutes.

The sound of the doorknob rattling caught the attention of the four as a collective sigh of relief echoed through the room.

“Well hello there my kittens, long time no see.” Within a split second, Selina was already on top of Damian, pulling him into the biggest hug she could manage.

“Release me you heathen, I do not like being touched!”

Selina giggled as she tightened her hug before releasing him, allowing him to drop to the floor.

“Oh, I know. I enjoy giving you a hard time the most Damiboo.”

Damian cringed at the nickname as he allowed Marinette to help him back to his feet. While Selina was unbearable, he honestly had to applaud Jason for his thought. If anyone could reign in the energy Adrien had, it would be her.

“You must be Adrien. I’m Selina Kyle, so very nice to meet you.”

Adrien swallowed hard as he tentatively reached out his hand to shake hers. No one could blame him, the look on Selina’s face was terrifying as if she was admiring a jewel before shattering it into pieces.

“Now let’s cut to the chase. Do you want to live with me? You obviously need a parent figure in your life, but you also only have a year left until you can be on your own. I know it’s a big change from Paris, but between Zeta tubes and that little horse your friend Marinette carries, you’ll never be too far.”

Damian bit his lip hard, trying not to yell at Selina for her brashness. She was supposed to be gentle and coaxing. Get him to like her, spend the day with him, and then suggest it. Adrien looked as white as a ghost, as expected when someone you’ve only heard stories about shows up in your hotel room with adoption papers.

“Uhm, I don’t really want a guardian. My aunt said she would rent me an apartment wherever I wanted and when the time came for my 18th birthday, she’d sign it over to me-”

Adrien was cut off as Selina placed a finger over his lips, shocking him into silence.

“Honey, I can do that for you. Don’t rely on family who will want to steal your father’s fortune. However, I will have a few conditions.”

Adrien nodded slowly, his eyes glancing around frantically as if asking for help.

“First, you must visit Wayne Manor once a week for a family dinner, I refuse to let you off the hook with no real resemblance of a family. Second, you must rent here in Metropolis where you already have a good person looking out for you. And third, you must force Damian and Jason to participate in these once a week dinners.”

Jason and Damian shouted frantically for him to decline, their plans falling to pieces before them. They only quieted down after Marinette reached back giving them matching red bumps on their foreheads.

“What do you say, sweetie? I can tell you and Jon are already close and I think this would be best for everyone. You had already finished your studies in France so you can take this year to decide what you want to do next in life and I think between the Kents and us, we can help you with that.”

It took less than a minute for Adrien to agree and for Damian and Jason to be bested by two black cats. Selina insisted on lunch to celebrate, dragging Adrien and Jon with her and out the door leaving the three exhausted crusaders behind.

“Well, technically Bruce won’t be the one adopting him.” Marinette shrugged before plopping on the couch, the other two following suit.

“Yeah, but like, we went through all this trouble to stop Dick and Adrien from meeting, and now we will be having weekly dinners with them. Marinette, you are officially forced into this agreement as well.” Jason poked at her side, a small sigh of defeat escaping from his lips.

“Stupid lovestruck Jon.” Marinette and Jason turned their attention to where Damian sat, his arms crossed in annoyance. “I bet if they hadn’t had this week to hang out, Selina wouldn’t have picked up on their stupid crushes. Why do you women always feel the need to meddle?”

The air was silent for a moment before laughter erupted from Damian’s right side. Shaking his head, he couldn’t help the small giggle that came from his own mouth. Stupid Jon, making him attend family dinners with the likes of Dick and Adrien. He was happy for him, not to be confused with the utter annoyance he felt for him at the moment as well.

As they sat there joking about their shared fate and pondering how it could’ve gone differently, one thought was constant across all three of their minds:

Who could’ve planned for stupid lovestruck Jon?

Permanent Tag List 

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[anika-ann]

Of Muffins, Coffee and Other Miracles - Pt.2

Of Coffee, Brownies and-- Frack

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader        Word count: 2210

Type: Two-shot, reader insert

Warnings: swearing, tons of fluff and cheeky/cute Daredevil/Matt

Summary: You’re a secretary at Landman and Zack, having an office on the same floor as the interns. You notice one of them (which you might and might not have a crush on) seems down lately, so you decide to cheer him up the only way you can come up with. You bake muffins; right after your life is saved by a cheeky vigilante.  

Part 1

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

“Wild night out?” a male voice made you snap from your dozing and you straightened in your chair with a startle.

Oh shit. Oh fuck, you were so fired.

You look up to the man who addressed you, relieved it was only Foggy – one of the interns. He wouldn’t report you, right?

“Uhm… not sure I would call it wild, but… strange for sure.” Not every night you get to be kissed by a vigilante, even if only on your temple.

“It wasn’t drugs, right? Because drugs are bad,” he whispered, looking around for anyone who could hear. You smiled at him tiredly.

“I know. Not… that kind of strange. What can I do for you… Foggy, right?”

“Yes!” he confirmed cheerfully, until his smile fell. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we were introduced. You’re…” he eyed the name on your desk, repeating it dutifully.

“That’s me,” you confirmed with a nod. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh! Right. My friend, Matt, he’s interning with me here, I’m sure you saw him around. He’s… well, blind.” Oh, I did see him around. “Usually, he gets the copies of the files in braille, but today… whoever is the good soul doing it for him forgot or something and… I have no idea where to find a braille printer here and you seem to know your way around…? And you also look like you’re not gonna fire me for asking.”

You found yourself smiling in the presence of the cheerful man. “Only if you promise not to tell anyone that I was basically sleeping.”

“Deal.”

“Thanks. You have the file? I can print it. Honestly, anyone who knows where to find that printer or how to use it wouldn’t have the authority to fire you. Just send it to me and I’ll drop it in your… your…” you stuttered, unsure how to finish that sentence.

“You can say it. It’s a closet.”

“It is, isn’t it? But which one?” you played dumb, because… reasons. You shouldn’t have known where they were, you didn’t need it. Why would you? Yeah, I’m sooo subtle…

“Oh, the one down the hall.”

“Okay. Just e-mail me the file number and I’ll deliver.”

“Really? You’re amazing.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you laughed nervously. Amazing. You didn’t think – scratch that, you were sure your boss never called you that, and you were saving his life on daily basis; he wouldn’t even sign a paper unless you handed him the pen.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong…” Foggy pronounced, pointing at you. Then he seemed to realize something. “You said not many people know where to find that printer?”

You shrugged. “Not really, I guess. It’s on the fourth floor, but it’s next to impossible to go there unnoticed by people guarding printers and they are bitch to talk to, so if you ever need anything just tell me, I’ll do it for you. I’m sure your life is enough depressing in that… cubicle.”

“Hm… okay, thanks a lot!” He spun on his heels, walking out.

Weird.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Dropping off the files in the right closet, you were confronted with…  your crush. You might have not realized it before, but… yeah. You were confronted by Matt Murdock himself and you were suddenly very sure you had a crush on this man. Crap.

The thing was… he was his typical self, which meant… really charming. He stood up from his desk when thanking you, learning your name, shaking your hand. He gave you one of the nicest smile you had ever seen, his grip firm, but gentle; you just stuttered when saying ‘nice to meet you’, stumbling out as quickly as possible, shaking your head over your own inability to communicate like a normal person.

One thing you noticed about Matt that day though was that he had a rather angrily looking gash next to his right eyebrow – whether he ran into a door or something else happened, you didn’t know. But you were glad you had baked the previous night, secretly leaving your backup lunch to ease the blind’s man pain.

You were stuck hungry because of that; you couldn’t make yourself regret it.

You were a hopeless case.

And a liar on top of that, because you had said it wasn’t ‘like that’ just few nights before. Perfect.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

It was raining that night, so you didn’t leave a snack for the vigilante who apparently kissed crime victim’s temples. Maybe the next night.

Or never, because he would avoid you forever, realizing that you were as far from his Lois Lane as you could be. Which was probably a good thing.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

You looked up from the screen at the sound of someone knocking. It was unusual – the door was always open, so people normally just waltzed in.

Matt freaking Murdock was standing in that open door, holding his walking cane and a cup holder in one hand, his other hand on the glassy door. You blinked in surprise at the sight. And god, he was such a sight for your sore eyes…

“Anyone in?” he asked carefully and you fought the urge to face-palm. He couldn’t see you watching him – which might be a good thing, considering you were shamelessly staring.

“Yes! Hi, Matt. What can I do for you? Someone forgot to print case files again?” you wondered when you gathered yourself.

He smiled, turning your direction, walking towards your desk.

“Uhm, no. No, I came to… say thank you.”

Did you hit your head in the shower this morning?

“Uhm. You’re welcome, it really wasn’t a big deal.“ You mentally praised yourself for so many coherent sentences. His smile only grew wider.

“Here. Uhm, I was told you were a bit tired yesterday, so I figured you might appreciate a coffee. One’s black with sugar, which should have ‘B’ on the cup, and the other one is vanilla latté with ‘V’. I had no idea which you might like.” He held out the holder for you to choose.

You had definitely hit your head. What the hell? Or rather… what the heaven?

“I… you really didn’t have to do that, Matt. That’s… thank you, but… it was just a file. Anyone would do that.”

You found the V cup, taking it hesitantly as if it could explode in your hand.

“Well, for one, that’s not true, especially here, and… it’s not just for the file,” he offered with a cute smile.

It wasn’t the smile that sent your heart racing. Well, it was, but also the thing he was implying— did he somehow figure out you were his… secret muffin-maker? Well, shit.

“I’m not sure-“

“People by the printers on the fourth floor are next to impossible to sneak by – that’s your words, not mine. Next to impossible, but not completely. That suggests you know how to do it. I imagine the bosses wouldn’t be happy finding out you’re using the printer to write notes for miserable blind interns, so sneaking under radar it is.”

You pressed your lips together, squeezing your eyes shut, cursing mentally. And out loud. “Frack.”  

“So, you know. Thank you. The muffins were delicious. They did make my day much better,” Matt assured you and an unfairly warm feeling spread in your chest. Maybe it wasn’t such a disaster he found out.

“There’s no way I’m finding a way to prove you wrong, is there?” you sighed. “You should reconsider your career choices, you would make a great detective. Glad it worked. I know that muffins can’t fix all the problems of the world, but occasionally, they can save the mood.”

“Not wrong there. I... uhm… the coffee is the best thank you I’m capable of. I hope my debt is paid.”

Well. That made more sense. “You didn’t have to-“

“That came out wrong. I wanted to say thank you, to erase a potential debt, because I was…”

You tilted your head to side, waiting what brilliant end that sentence would have. For once you weren’t the one who apparently didn’t know what to say.

“I was wondering if you would want to go for a coffee sometime? Or a dinner, maybe? Not as a thank you.”

Throw the incapability to speak up back on me, why don’t you. You blinked in utter shock, your knees buckling a little. Come again? “Not… not as thank you. You’re… you’re sure of that?”

“Hundred percent positive.”

You were certain you heard wrong. Which was easily possible given how loud your pulse was in your ears.

“Oh. Uhm… yeah. Okay. Sure. Just… just to be clear, since it’s not a thank you-“

“It’s a date. If you want it to be,” he added quickly, his confidence slightly shaken.

“If I want it to be…” you muttered under your breath incredulously. “Is the sky blue?”

“You tell me, it’s been a while since I’ve seen it last time,” he replied, grinning. He was so not supposed to hear that. Dammit.

“Oh my—… yeah, last time I checked it was still blue.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” He shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out a phone, holding in out for you. “Would you enter your number in it, please? First name’s enough. I’ll call you.”

You finally set your cup down and took the phone from his hand, still not quite believing this was happening. Your fingers brushed his lightly when doing so, nearly sending you into a cardiac arrest. Jesus.

“Sure. You don’t have a distaste for black coffee right? Because I can totally switch the cups, I haven’t even sipped mine yet,” you mumbled as you were entering your number.

He laughed. “I like black coffee.”

“Noted. And number saved.”

You returned the phone to his extended hand. “Thanks. Dinner or coffee? I would offer a lunch, but the muffins appeared during lunch-breaks, which suggests you’re not leaving the office.”

“Detective, seriously. Dinner?” you asked, unsure.

“Dinner it is.”

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Dinner it was. And an amazing one. Matt picked the restaurant wisely – nice, but not too expensive, because neither of you were exactly rich (not that it mattered, because Matt was a gentleman who wouldn’t let the woman pay for the food, definitely not on the first date) and that way you could have a dessert without remorse; financial one anyway.

Matt saying that your muffins were better after eating a chocolate brownie was just the icing on the cake of how… sweet he was. He was even more wonderful than you had thought, but despite becoming a lawyer and working between the sharks, he was a down-to-earth person. Not playing any… leagues. And you had fun. His sense of humour was refreshing and he was apparently more than capable of smiling and laughing as cheerfully as his friend. He was a freaking sunshine and you found yourself drawn to the warmth and light like to a magnet.

He walked you home, looking almost disappointed that the night was ending, which was a sentiment you shared wholeheartedly.

“If I wasn’t so full, I would invite you upstairs. I have muffins,” you whispered as his hand travelled up your arm, wavering in the crook of your neck and he leaned closer to you.

The corners of his lips rose a little higher at your note and you were honestly regretting he was still wearing his dark red-tinged glasses. You would like to see his eyes to complete the picture.

“Well, I would say I’m sorry, but I’m actually glad. I… I really enjoyed tonight. I wouldn’t want to screw up.”

You could tell he hesitated, his thumb caressing your neck in silent question. You leaned in as well. ”I can’t really imagine you screwing it up, Matt, no matter what you would do. Unless you‘d wake me up now.”

“Is that a permission?” he breathed out an inch from your lips.

“It’s a plea.”

He met your lips softly, retreating too soon.

“Please, don’t wake me up,” you mumbled, not sure you wanted him to hear it.

“This is a goodnight kiss,” he reassured you lowly, kissing you again, caressing your lower lip and making your knees unfairly weak. “We’ll work our way up to a good morning one. If you’d like.”

You brought your hand to the back of his neck, keeping him close just in case he was getting any ideas and you returned the kiss, nibbling on his lips just a little. He let out a content sigh, his fingers tangling in your hair, his body shifting closer to yours.

“Probably sooner than later,” he mumbled against your mouth, making you smile and hum in agreement. You added ‘excellent kisser’ to the mental list you were making about him. Hot. Sweet. Gentle. Funny. Smart. Ray of sunshine. Gorgeous smile. Likes black coffee and my muffins. Never should stop kissing me.

He met your lips for the last time, withdrawing with a smile, his thumb running over your jaw.

“Goodnight,” you whispered, licking your lips to savour the taste of his own.

He pecked your temple lightly, wishing you the same.

‘Familiar,’ you added to your mental list and your heart, fluttering until the moment, started hammering in your chest wildly. Familiar voice, familiar smile, familiar gestures-

No, no, no, no, no. That was ridiculous. You were projecting again, you were-

“Clark?” you chocked out, perfectly aware of how stupid it was, expecting Matt to shoot you a puzzled look and ask you about your possible ex or something.

Except Matt did no such thing. Instead, he froze and said just one word that meant you were somehow, in some impossible way, right.

“Frack.”

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Matt Murdock Masterlist

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

It’s silly and I’m grinning when writing it and posting it and I’m most definitely sure that this cliff-hanger is the end and it’s all up to you to wonder what happened next ;)

Thank you for reading :-*

[weasleydream]

A rough day

After what feels like years without posting, I come back to you with a little something i’ve written ages ago because i still haven’t found the motivation to write but i promise i’m working on it 

I hope you’ll enjoy!

Masterlist 

(photo not mine)

“Please, do something, my head, it hurts!”

The patient, Mr Rale, was complaining about his head since the first hours of the day, whereas the sun hadn’t even showed up and when I was still in my bed. Since I had arrived at St-Mungo’s, about seven hours ago, he had emptied five vials of potion against headache on his own and was still acting like a man on his deathbed. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” I said for the millionth time. “I can’t do anything more than to give you a potion, it would be useless.”

“You’re not a healer, I want someone competent!” he hissed. 

He hadn’t stopped making these comments to me since the second he had seen me in his room. Three days ago, Lory, a friend of mine and an usually very patient nurse, had left his room screaming she would gladly kill him if she could. My superior hadn’t even fired her for the simple reason that she was the ninth nurse quitting in two weeks because of our dear Mr Rale. The guy had been bitten by a werewolf, and, if I could only imagine the pain he had gotten through, I also knew for a fact that the pain didn’t last more than a week. That was what Remus Lupin had told me back in my last year at Hogwarts when I had told him I wanted to be healer and I had timidly asked him what it was like to be bitten. 

“The first 24 hours are the worst,” he had said. “You feel like a fire slowly spreading in your body, and the pain is at its peak where you’ve been bitten. The sensation slowly decreases within a few hours, and a week later, the pain has disappeared. The physical one, anyway.” He had added with a bitter tone. 

Since the beginning of the year, when I had begun to work at St-Mungo’s, the most technical thing I had done was asking a baby to get out of the way as I was dragging a housekeeping cart. Nevertheless, that didn’t prevent my superior from almost begging me to take care of Mr Rale, promising me I wouldn’t be the clean lady anymore if I took care of him until he was healed. 

I had promised myself I would be an exemplary nurse, a smiling and comprehensive woman… No need to say it was before I met my patient. 

“Arrange my pillow for me, it’s really not comfortable.”

With a groan that had almost become my only way of communication with him, I obliged and helped him sitting. I hit the pillow a bit harder than needed, just to calm my nerves, and laid Mr Rale back. 

“The bandage is itching me a lot, I think you should -”

“Yes, I’ll change it.”

I gave him my back to roll my eyes, my hope to become a true healer not forgotten, and started to get his bandage off. His left shoulder was coloured in a strange mix of black, purple and yellow, and the marks of the werewolf fangs were still visible, forming a nasty wound. I applied a potion to disinfect with an infinite delicacy, but he still found something to complain about. 

“I told you I don’t like the smell of this potion.”

Fighting against the urge of smashing the vial on his head (I had heard the werewolves had hard bones, it would be the occasion to test it), I didn’t reply and quickly made him another bandage. Despite the unpleasant comments he threw to me between two dramatic moans, I was relieved to notice Mr Rale was getting tired. At least, when he was sleeping, he wasn’t rude. I glanced at my watch and sighed. Only one more hour and I would be free until tomorrow. 

_ _ _ 

After a quick passage at the grocery store - where I fell in front of the entrance before realizing that I didn’t have enough money - I finally arrived in front of the door of the apartment in a muggle street George and I had bought after the war, when Fred and Angelina had started dating. I managed to hold my three bags with one hand while looking for the keys… and heard one of the paper bags tearing itself up. 

“Bloody hell!” I shouted as the apples rolled down the few steps in front of the door. 

The latter opened as I was kneeling on the ground and revealed an amused George. Usually, I would have melted in front of his neglected appearance, he was just so cute with his tie loose and his messy hair… But today was definitely a bad day and he accidentally stepped on my hand when he tried to help me. 

“Bloody hell!” I repeated much louder than before. 

“I’m sorry Y/N I didn’t want to- let me see your hand, I’ll-”

I didn’t let him continue his rambling apologies and rushed inside, abandoning my bags outside. I threw my wand on the kitchen counter and it fell on the floor before rolling under the oven. 

“Fuck!”

I got on all fours and reached for my wand only to hit my head against the handle. The tension of this horrible day made something break in me and when he came back with the bags and all the apples, George found me sitting on the floor, rubbing my head to ease the pain and weeping like a baby. 

“Oh, come here baby…” he whispered as he sat next to me and pulled me against him. 

I hid my head in the crook of his neck and he began to murmur sweet things I was unable to understand. I just perceived the purr of his voice and the vibration somehow helped me relax. By now, I was sitting between his legs, and mine were wrapped around his waist. George slowly put his right hand on my cheek and wiped a tear with his thumb. 

“Please, tell me what’s wrong.” he begged. “Tell me how I can help you.”

“You can’t, I’m alright, don’t worry love.” 

George made his I-don’t-believe-you face and wrapped once more his arms around me. 

“Prepare for immediate takeoff!” he warned. 

He didn’t let me time to react and got up, still carrying me like a child. One of his arms moved and went to support my butt while the other tightened me against him. 

“What are you doing?”

George didn’t answer and carried me in the bathroom, where he delicately let go of me. With a wave of his wand, candles appeared and decorated the room. I was beginning to understand what he was going to do when literally all my thoughts became crazy as his hands travelled on my back. George was standing behind me, his breathing lightly tickling me as he was kissing my neck. His hands were now firmly holding my waist under my shirt, his soft touch warming up my skin. 

“You know I love you, right?”

His voice was becoming hoarse and made me shiver. Unable to do anything coherent, I nodded and sighed when I felt his hands lifting my shirt up. He made it pass above my head, threw it on the floor and kissed each part of my skin he could reach. I tried to turn toward him but he didn’t let me. 

“Let me help you relax, love.”

A few minutes later, we were sitting in the bathtub, me between George’s legs, his arms around me. The water was hot enough to make all my muscles relax and I let out a sigh of contentment. 

“Better?” asked George. 

“So much better… Thank you love.” I whispered. 

“Can you tell me what was bothering you?”

I told him how bad my day had been and when he heard I was getting angry, George massaged my shoulders, helping me stay calm. After a few jokes and a pleasant massage, I eventually fell asleep and George only woke me up when the water had become too cold. After this well deserved nap, he made me sit on the couch with my favourite book on the knees and got back half an hour later with pizzas. We ate quickly as I was still exhausted and joined our bed to cuddle. 

_ _ _ 

“Don’t you have something for my stomach? It hurts!”

I rolled my eyes and smiled as brightly as possible. It was gonna be a rough day, but in the end, George always made it better.

[wanderingcas]

Weekly screaming session over Ascend, incoming! I’ve got multiple things to say, so buckle in, bud:

1) If you ever need to take a break, don’t feel guilty about it. It’s hard out here for everyone and what you’re doing takes a lot. I’m sure I can speak for most (if not all) of your readers when I say we’re okay with waiting for chapters as long as you’re alright and you produce something you’re confident in. (Well, as confident as writers ever get about our work... but I digress.)

2) I was crying the ENTIRE time while reading the new update. Holy SHIT.

3) When Dean asked Cas if he regretted loving him, I swear to god, I had to put my phone down. It’s so Dean. Sometimes, you read a line in something and it resonates deeply. Maybe it strikes a nerve you didn’t even know existed. Maybe it perfectly encapsulates a character so clearly that it takes your breath away. Maybe it’s just too real. Maybe it’s all of the above! All I know is, I re-read that line MULTIPLE times and had to hide away for a sec.

4) The fact that you flipped the script on Cas’ confession to make Dean’s was AAAAAUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHHHH! The moment he said, “I know how you see yourself.” I lost it. That damn scene has been on everyone’s dashboard again today and to see it flipped towards Cas from Dean was a beautiful bit of symmetry I appreciated.

5) You’re a great writer. You’re a damn great writer. And I know that no matter how many times people may say that, it’s hard to accept and it may even be in your nature to just kinda shrug it off (or maybe that’s just me projecting, in which case, from the bottom of my heart, my bad), but it’s rare to read something written by someone that makes you literally count down the days for an update. It’s not just because it’s Dean and Cas and we’re all searching for something to soothe the wounds 15x19 and 15x20 left us with. That may be but a small part of it. In reality, people are sticking around with Ascend because of you. Because of your knack for story telling. Because you describe the Empty so clearly that someone can close their eyes and picture it. It’s the Empty. There should be no way to describe it with words and, yet, you did. Because you understand the characters you’re writing. Because they have clear personalities and agency and your writing helps us understand them more. Someone can have a good premise and compelling characters, but if their writing isn’t captivating or expressive enough yet, the story will fall flat and people will not read along. That’s not the case with you.

6) I actually REALLY liked this style for this chapter. It was jarring (in a good way), like when the director in a movie changes the camera angle or something to get the audience to feel uneasy about something before they know what they’re supposed to feel uneasy about (does that make sense?) I think it fit the tone of the fic pretty well because of its difference from the previous chapters. It makes it clear this was a veering point, ya know?

Anyway, this has gotten extremely long and embarrassingly gushing but I think credit should be given when it’s due and the world has wayyyyy too many people second guessing themselves and their work because of imposter syndrome. I know this comment won’t take away that feeling. But seriously. You’re a great writer. The fic is so good. I can’t waittttttttt to see what happens next and to see everyone get the goddamn happy ending they deserve. And I’m glad you’re writing this fic.

Hope you’re doing well and if you’ve gotta take a break, take a break. Pretty sure we’ll all still be here waiting. :P

ok i can't even.... reply or process this. it's just. i got this ask on sunday and i'm STILL in awe. like... you sat down and wrote this whole beautiful thing for my fiC and now i get to stare at it and weep over it whenever i need a confidence boost. like holy shit anon. this just eased my writing issues and insecurities by about 60%. holy crap. i wish i had a more coherent reply except for simply saying... thank you. so much. i wish i could properly express how much this ask means to me. i'm working hard on the next chapter so i can hopefully put it out in a week because i can't wait for you to read it<3

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Part Five! I’m leaning towards the supremely corny title of “If It Returns,” taken from that old “If you love something, let it go” adage. Part One is here, Part Two is here, Part Three is here, and Part Four is here.

There’ll be a bit of a break before the next part, while I finalize the outline, celebrate New Year’s, and recover from New Year’s. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love!

Mulder stares at the photo, unable to speak or even form a coherent thought, aware Dana’s watching him anxiously. It only makes it more difficult to think clearly and he focuses harder on the image in his hands.

Wide, sparkling blue eyes. Red-blond hair, long and silky, flowing down in waves around a fair face. An aquiline nose sprinkled lightly with freckles and a bright smile that’s somehow simultaneously charming and precocious.

It’s like looking at a miniature Dana Scully.

Mulder looks up at the full-grown version sitting across from him and the fear in her face nearly breaks his heart. She’s probably run through a hundred possibilities of how he might react since Melissa gave her his phone number... not to mention who knows how many thousands more in the years since her last letter. He smiles warmly at her, hoping to put her at ease. 

“She’s beautiful,” he tells her, and Dana immediately relaxes-- somewhat, at any rate. “How old is she?”

“She’ll be ten in January.” Mulder does the math in his head, and yes, it checks out. She must have sent him that two-line letter right after finding out. But even though the timeline makes sense, her reasoning still confuses him. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asks. “Dana... did you think I’d be angry with you?”

She raises her eyebrows at him. “Wouldn’t you have been?” He opens his mouth to say no, of course not, they were both allowed to see other people so he wouldn’t have had the right to be angry.

But then he stops to think. Would he have been angry? They hadn’t been a couple anymore. He’d had his fair share of dates, a handful of one-night stands, even a couple of relationships. Theoretically, what had happened to her could just as easily have happened to him-- or, at any rate, to any girl he’d been with, which in his book would have put him in almost the same position.

Still....

Right now, he’s looking at it through the lens of maturity, with the experience of a thirty-two-year-old doctor of psychology. And even now, seeing this little girl’s face, concrete proof Dana had been with another man, he feels a twinge of hurt. It’s irrational, but still, he feels it. 

When he’d gotten Dana’s last letter, he’d rushed to the phone to call her, desperate to know what was going on, to talk her out of whatever madness had led her to tell him they could never speak again. The number had already been disconnected, but what if it hadn’t been? In that state of mind, how would his college-age self have responded if Dana had told him she was carrying another man’s child?

“I think at first, I might have been,” he admits. “But I would’ve realized eventually that I didn’t have the right to be angry. And then I would have wanted to know what I could’ve done to help.” He narrows his eyes at her as another thought strikes him. “And you probably would have known that’s how I’d react, too. So that can’t be the only reason you didn’t tell me.” 

Scully looks down. “No, it wasn’t,” she agrees. She twists her hands together around her teacup, and he reaches out and takes one, relieved when she curls her fingers around his and doesn’t pull away.

“Tell me what happened,” Mulder urges gently. Scully raises her eyes to meet his, takes a deep breath, and begins.

“Emily’s father is a man named Ethan. He was a friend of mine at Stanford, senior year. He wasn’t my boyfriend, exactly-- senior year was way too hectic to carry on a relationship-- but we went out every now and then.” She bites her lip and blushes. “And sometimes... you know, to let off steam....”

Mulder grins. “Dana Scully, are you telling me you had a friend with benefits?” 

Dana scowls at him. “Yes. Now shut up.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway... we were both insanely busy with school and part-time jobs, so neither of us were seeing anyone else at the time. And because of that, and because I was on the pill, once I’d seen his bloodwork, we’d stopped using condoms. But....” She sighs. “Someone has to be that one out of a thousand who still gets pregnant. And in April, that someone was me.”

“And you decided to keep it.”

Dana nods “Not because of the reasons you think, Mulder. Eighteen years of Sunday School weren’t enough to convince me I had no choice. And I knew it would wreak havoc on my plans for med school, but....” She smiles softly at the picture of Emily lying on the table between them. “I already felt attached to her, Mulder. I knew right away I was going to keep her.

“Ethan, meanwhile, chose that moment to tell me he loved me, he’d been in love with me for ages, and that he’d marry me in a heartbeat if that was what I wanted.”

“Quite the romantic,” Mulder observes.

“I told him I appreciated his offer, but that I didn’t think we should rush into anything. I decided to to delay med school for a few years, work full-time, and save up the money I’d need to go back to school later, when Emily was older. Ethan already had a job lined up after graduation and he was going to share custody and pay child support. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was the best we could come up with. 

“And then we broke the news to my father.”

Mulder winces. Captain Scully had always been quite the traditionalist... and Dana had been the apple of his eye.

“Well... as you can probably imagine, Ahab lost his mind. I knew it was going to be bad, but....” She shudders at the memory, and he squeezes her hand. “I never dreamed he’d say the things he said, or make the demands he made. He insisted Ethan and I had to get married, and when I told him I didn’t want that, he told me I had no choice, that he wouldn’t stand for me shaming the family like that.”

Mulder’s jaw drops. Ahab had always been strict and demanding, yes, but Mulder couldn’t imagine him ever accusing Dana of making him ashamed.

“So... I stormed out. But later that night, my mother called and said she and my father had come up with a compromise. If Ethan and I married, they would pay my med school tuition, let us live with them, and my mom would watch the baby while Ethan was working and I was at class-- and later, during my residency.”

Mulder whistled. “He really didn’t want you having that baby without getting married, huh?”

“No. He didn’t.” Dana tries to pull her hand away, and Mulder reluctantly relinquishes it. She rubs her upper arms as though chilled. Mulder waits for her to continue but she remains silent. She won’t meet his eyes. He suddenly understands: whatever she has to tell him, she’s afraid of what he’ll think of her when he hears it.

“Dana,” he says. “Look at me.” She purses her lips and keeps her eyes lowered. “Please, Dana.” Slowly, she looks up, and tears sparkle in her eyes. “Nothing you tell me is going to make me think any less of you. Understand?” She chuffs out skeptical laugh. “I promise.” He reaches across the table again and his heart leaps when she lets him take her hand. Holding it in both of hers, she continues.

“I know what I should have done right then,” she says. “I should have called you at Oxford, woken you up in the middle of the night, and told you everything. I should have asked what you thought I should do... and I’m willing to bet you would have convinced me not to take the easy way out.” She sighs. “Which is what I ended up doing.” 

Mulder’s stomach clenches at what he knows is coming. She’s not wearing a ring, he reminds himself. Anything could’ve happened since then. Calm down and let her finish. 

“Ethan and I got married a week later at City Hall. The last thing I did in my old apartment, before moving into my parents’ house, was to write you that letter.”

As much as Mulder’s been trying to stay quiet, here, he can’t help interrupting. “But why, Dana? Just because you thought I wouldn’t agree with you?”

“Because I thought you’d be disappointed in me,” Dana says. “And angry, at least at first. But honestly, I trusted you would get past all that eventually, Mulder." She sighs. “It was me I didn’t trust.”

Mulder frowns. “How do you mean?”

“I mean....” She looks down again, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “My most cherished wish all through college was that our paths would come together again one day. Right up until the moment I said I do, I fantasized about you somehow finding out what had happened and storming into the wedding to object.

“But even more than that, Mulder, I was scared that eventually, writing letters wouldn’t be enough for me, and I’d find some way to be where you were no matter what the distance.” Her blush deepens with her admission, and Mulder’s heart swells. Even after four years apart at college, she’d still loved him just as much as he loved her.

Does she still? He’ll have to wait and see.

“I felt like I had to do it for both of us,” Dana says. “As long as we were still in each other’s lives, I’d never be able to let you go. You deserved so much better than that. And Ethan deserved better, too. I loved him as a friend, and I convinced myself that I could learn to love him as more... but I was wrong.”

“Where’s Ethan now?” Mulder asks... and then, as much as he’s not sure he wants to know: “Are you still married?”

“What? Oh, God, no,” Dana laughs. “No, by the time I’d finished med school, even my dad was willing to admit how wrong he’d been in forcing us to marry. After four years of listening to us arguing over every little thing, my parents were almost celebrating when we announced our divorce. Which, as religious as my parents are, is really saying something. But they saw how miserable I was in my marriage and they didn’t want that for me.”

“He wasn’t cruel to you, was he?” asks Mulder. 

“Ethan? No, not at all, Mulder. He’s a great guy, a wonderful father to Emily. He and I are still good friends.” She chuckles. “Actually, I called him this morning to tell him I was meeting you for lunch.”

“Really?” Mulder’s not sure how he feels about that. A friendly ex-husband isn’t something he has any experience dealing with. Most of the women he’s dated have, at best, been lukewarm on the subject of their exes. “What did he say?”

“He wished me luck,”she says. Mulder laughs.

“So, that’s it,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “The big, bad secret.”

“Yup,” says Dana. “Now you know all of it.” She pauses, tension settled deep in the lines on her forehead. “So... can you forgive me?”

“Dana... there’s nothing to forgive,” says Mulder. “You were in an impossible situation. Would I have tried to talk you out of it if you’d called me? Hell, yes. But ultimately it was still your decision, and you did what you thought was best for everyone at the time.” 

Dana seems to deflate with relief. She pulls his hand to her lips and kisses his fingertips, and he could swear electricity crackles between them.

“But,” Mulder continues, “I do have one request.” 

“Oh?”

“Have dinner with me,” he says. “This Saturday night.”

Her face lights up, but then falls slightly. “I can’t this weekend,” she says. “It’s my weekend to take Emily. Ethan had her for Christmas this year but she’ll be home in the evening on New Year’s Day. And I’d invite you to do something with both of us, but... well....”

“But studies have shown that introducing potential romantic partners to the children of single parents can lead to confusion and a heightened sense of instability when the short-term relationship ends,” says Mulder, fully aware he sounds like a psychology textbook, and Dana laughs.

“Right, I forgot,” she says. “You’re a shrink now. I’ll have to watch what I say or you’ll start psychoanalyzing me.”

“Who says I haven’t started already?” Mulder asks, and Scully glowers playfully at him. “Okay, so, this weekend is out. Maybe--”

“This might seem a little presumptuous,” Dana interrupts, “but do you already have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

Does he? Yes, he does. He’s supposed to attend a party thrown by one of his colleagues from his former practice. He’s already RSVP’d and promised to bring a cheese plate. And knows full well that the hostess is hoping he won’t be going home that night.

Will he be attending the party? No, he will not.

“Nope, nothing solid,” he lies, and Dana’s face lights up. 

“Would you like to come over?” she asks. “I mean, my parents will be there, and Melissa too, at least for part of the night, so it’s not exactly going to be a romantic evening, so--”

“I’d love to,” he says, and Dana’s smile is blinding.

Over Dana’s shoulder, Mulder catches sight of the clock hanging on the back wall. 

“I can’t tell you how much I hate to leave right now,” he tells Dana, “but I have to get back to the office. My next appointment starts in fifteen minutes.” 

“I should really be getting back, too,” Dana says, gathering up her purse and shrugging on her coat. They walk out of the tea room together and stand on the sidewalk in the December chill, neither anxious to leave.

“So... what time should I be there?” Mulder asks.

“Is eight okay?”

“Eight is perfect. I’ll see you then.” He steps forward to embrace her, half-worried she’ll step back, but she doesn’t. She meets him with her arms around his neck, her face curled into his chest, and he buries his face in her hair.

She still smells the same. How can she still smell the same after fourteen years? He inhales deeply, trying to take at least some part of her along with him to tide him over until New Year’s. He releases her reluctantly, and she smiles at him, then turns and heads off down the sidewalk. When she reaches the corner, he calls after her.

“Hey, Dana?” She turns, eyebrow raised. “Just so you know... I absolutely would have showed up at your wedding to object. The moment I knew about it, I would’ve been on the first plane out of England.”

[theastrophilearchitect]

I started writing a book.

And I’m mad about it, because I just started this post, brought up a new tab and lost it because I didn’t save my draft.

Anyway. That’s a thing I did. Wow.

As of this moment, this post won’t be going up until April 19th, but I’m starting writing this at 10.30pm on Sunday, February 21st, 2021. I’ve done a lot in the last couple weeks, and I want to have some record of all I’ve accomplished without just letting most of it fade over the next two months.

I’ve always wanted to be an author. From when I was reading under my covers with a torch past bedtime, through the years I wanted to be an artist, through the years I wanted to be a lawyer. It’s always been there - no matter what primary career path I went down, I wanted to be an author. The last few years, I’ve been invested in becoming a biologist, and that dream really took a backseat.

In the start of this lockdown, my mental health went downhill, and some advice my therapist gave me was just to prioritise myself. It sounds simple enough, but, even in my free time, I’d been focusing on schoolwork - revising constantly for exams I’m still not sure are actually happening. (Boris Johnson is apparently making an announcement tomorrow about beginning to ease lockdown, but we’ll see) So, on Saturday, February 6th, I started an attempt to coalesce the ideas I had floating in my head into something tangible.

I’ve tried to write books countless times (not technically countless - I have all the documents on my laptop, so I could if I wanted to), but mostly, I’ve never gotten further than a couple bare plot points and some characters, maybe some ideas for subplots, before I’ve stagnated and given up.

Three times, I’ve finished a skeletal outline. Twice, I’ve started to go back over those outlines only to realise they made no sense or just seemed week, and simply not cared enough to fix it. Until now, I guess.

February 6th, 7th, and fast-forward to my week off beginning the 15th, up until the 19th, I kept developing this concept I’d managed to form, but I was struggling to establish a coherent plot. I had up until and including a midpoint (which was later condensed into just a first act), but everything after that was just a void. I began searching for some skeletal structure I could apply to it, both to work on pacing and fill in the blanks. I tried several, and got a little further, but was about to give up hope.

Then I remembered a video by Katytastic I’d watched years ago about the 3-act, 9-block, 27-chapter structure she used, and couldn’t see the harm in giving it a go. And something clicked.

You can find the video here - the structure’s detailed and easy to follow, plus she even gives an example of using it to generate a plot.

I started binge-watching her writing vlogs in the background, and even started using her same writing program, Scrivener, which just made every a thousand times easier by taking away the need to juggle a billion Word documents. It’s fairly pricey, but I’m currently using the 30-day free trial - it’s 30 days of use, not of ownership, too: if you use it every day, it lasts 30 days, but if you use it once a week, it lasts 30 weeks.

Where Kat used the 27 parts the structure broke down into as chapters, I chose to refer to them as beats, and separate chapters later.

On Saturday the 20th, I finished defining my scenes and started writing an actual draft. I wrote two scenes, putting me at a collective word count (not including notes, synopses, etc.) of 2,580 words.

This morning, Sunday the 21st, I started over. I hated my opening. I’m not going to go through the mess of today’s process, but I currently have around 80 one-line-outline scenes, split into 3 acts. I wrote a draft of my prologue and detailed-outlined (which I’m mentally referring to as zero-outlining because it’s similar to how Katytastic does what she calls a zero draft, but is very much outlining, not a draft) two and a half other chapters. Scriver also tells me how many words I wrote in total, across notes, character profiles, location lists, a document I’ve named ‘Train of Thought’ for my ramblings as I go etc.

Today, I wrote a grand total of 4,141 words, which, rather counterintuitively, puts me at a draft total of 2,598. That makes sense. Anyway.

There are a lot of unknowns in the world right now, and I have no idea how much time I’ll have in the next six months to invest in this project, but I’d like, at bare minimum, to have one complete draft by the start of the next school year in September, which gives me just over 6 months. Which is probably too much time to actually motivate myself, but that’s not the point.

A manuscript needs to have a minimum word count of 50K words to be considered a novel, so, even though my ultimate goal for this project is around 80K words, 50K is going to be my goal for this draft.

I’m being optimistic about sticking with this.

Tuesday 23/02/2021 - Word Count: 3,099 I wrote nothing yesterday; planning to focus writing solely on days off rather than work days, but last night, watching through the incredibly long queue of Alexa Donne writing videos, I came to the conclusion writing every day, even just a little, would be the best way to ensure I keep working on this, so I set myself a goal of just 500 words a day.

Wednesday 24/02/2021 - Word Count: 5,350 After doing a little bit of maths as to how long this outlining and draft would take me if I were to only write 500 words a day, I decided to boost that goal to 1,000. I got started around 1pm today, online school draining me so much I couldn’t face another two hours. I worked on and off until 6pm, and around 4.45pm, I finished outlining Act One!

Thursday 25/02/2021 - Word Count: 7,022 I continued my scene outlining into Act Two, but I hit a brick wall around the midpoint. I have to write chronologically - some people jump around, but I have to write linearly, or it feels like I’m trying to make something in a void. It just doesn’t work. I didn’t know how to get from one scene to the next - there were so many things I needed to establish to get there, but I didn’t want to backtrack. I decided to re-jig the whole thing, but, after dinner, I realised I didn’t have to, and instead, decided to just start a draft, conscious of the things I need to establish as I go.

Friday 26/02/2021 - Word Count: 8,208 Starting draft one, I rewrote the prologue I’d already written, technically putting me to my second draft of it, because I’d been thinking about it for days and just wanted to revisit it, and it was so much better. Then I moved on to chapter one, but decided I wanted to re-jig my chapters. While outlining, I’d split the whole book into only about twenty chapters, but decided to go for shorter ones for more effective divisions of the story. I got most of the way through the first scene of chapter one, but basically ran out of both time and motivation, since I hadn’t heavily outlined that scene. in total, I wrote over 2000 words today, but because I only increased the prologue word count by about 100 words, it didn’t do that much to the total count.

Saturday 27/02/2021 - Word Count: 11,050 I got some chores done Saturday morning and focused on finishing my book so I could include it in my February wrap-up, but I still had time to get some writing done around mid-day. My goal was just to hit 10K this weekend, but I though I could do it in one day. I wrote about 1,000 words before feeling a little word-drained, but took a break for lunch, got back to it and wrote 2,400 words. Though that only added a little over 2,000 to the word count, it took me to 10K! I’m 20% of the way to being able to call it a novel! We’re in quintuple digits!

And then eight hours later, I wrote another thousand words and got to 11K.

Sunday 28/02/2021 - Word Count: 13,722 I spent most of my Sunday morning writing, though it took me more than two hours to write about 1500 words, though it only added about 1100 to my count. I decided to set myself an overall and weekly deadlines to hold myself accountable. Due to the fact I don’t yet have a clue how many words this will work out as, I decided I wanted to have either a complete first draft or 100K words (which I doubt I’ll reach, but it seems like a good way to make myself finish the draft before my deadline) by the end of April. Which works out to a little under 1500 words a day, or just under 11K a week, which is perfectly doable. Bearing in mind my current word count is including outlines, but I still believe in myself.

I wrote another 1600 words later, which took me to 14K, until I deleted the 300 word outline I wrote for one scene, but I worked out my words per day for the next two months with the assumption of a 10K word count as of March 1st and a target of either a complete draft or 100K words by the end of April, so I’m nearly 4,000 words ahead of schedule. Which gives me 6,606 words to write this week, instead of 10,328. (If you couldn’t tell, I like numbers. They just make sense to me.

Monday 01/03/2021 - Word Count: 15,005 I didn’t quite hit my daily goal, but I was completely leached of motivation today, I’m ahead of schedule anyway and I was only under by less than 200 words. It’s alright. But, hey, we hit 15K! Two days after hitting 10K!

Tuesday 02/03/2021 - Word Count: 21,119 This was an insane writing day. My end-of-day target was only 16,480, and that was still ahead of schedule - if I was sticking to the 100K by April 30th, I’d only actually need to be at 12,950 today. This was the best writing day I’ve ever had. I wrote before school and during breaks, which kept both my writing and working momentum up.

I didn’t read a page of my current read, but I wrote a total of 7,681 words and increased my wordcount by 6,114 words, or literally an additional 40.75%. I hit 20K three days after hitting 10K, and am 42.238% of the way to being able to say I wrote a novel, be it a shitty first draft that won’t be complete at 50K words.

I also finished chapter three, which I’ve been working on for three days and came out ~5,000 words, and wrote chapters four and five in their entirety.

Note to self: this is day 10 of vaguely outline-drafting this project.

Wednesday 03/03/2021 - Word Count: 23,364 I've only written 490 words today, as of writing this update, but I just wanted to make note of the fact I've done some calculations, and can reasonably finish my draft this month. I'm still not completely sure how long it'll work out to be, so I can't quite work out my daily words to finish on the 31st, but if I stick to my current 1,475 words a day, I'll hit 63,894 words by the end of the month, which is a little less than I imagine this draft will be, but if I stick to that as a minimum, my first draft won't have to go into April.

I'd like to post this later this week, but I already have a post for this Friday, so God only knows how long this will be by the time it goes up. So far, I've written 1,900 words today, and I don't think I'm out of fuel yet, but I'm stopping because I need to read today, and I'd rather not burn out. I'm over my goal, anyway.

Oh, also, I'm nearly at 25K, which is halfway to a novel, but I haven't broken into Act Two yet, which means this book will be 75K minimum. I'm going to do some maths and work out how many words a day to hit 80K by March 31st. 2,030. That's doable. So I haven't read, but back to writing for like ten minutes.

I've now hit an additional 2,245 words for the day, though I wrote a total of 2,663

Thursday 04/03/2021 - Word Count: 25,415 I've decided to work out how many words I need to write each day to hit 80K by March 31st, and watch the fluctuations. (I like statistics). It should steadily go down throughout the month if I surpass it each day. Today's minimum word count is 2,023, already seven words less than yesterday's. How exciting.

The last scene of Act One was very heavy on world-building I haven't yet figured out, so I stuck what was meant to happen in brackets and just moved on, meaning I have now broken into Act Two!

I think, during the week, I'm going to focus on just meeting my minimum word count rather than exceeding it, just to save fuel for the weekends, when I can write so many more words.

And, we hit 25K! I'm halfway to a novel!

Friday 05/03/2021 - Word Count: 26,693 In complete honesty, I'm beginning to lose momentum. Maybe it's just today, but I don't really want to write and feel like I need a break, but I'm going to make myself write anyway. I'm going to make myself keep writing until this draft is done, however shitty it may end up. I really hate first drafts.

When you say 2,000 words is only 7-8 pages, it doesn't sound like that much to write per day but my god. Luckily, most of the stuff I've had to save to a Pinterest board called 'Writing Motivation' says if you write when you don't want to, it should pass instead of worsening. I wanted to hit 35K this weekend, but I'm not sure I'll have the momentum. I'll at least hit 31,270, though, which is my minimum goal for this week. I'm still over 700 words off my goal for today, but I'm taking a break because my head is foggy and there's still eight hours left in the day. Besides, 700 after dinner is easy. She says, realising she's probably jinxing it. Oh, well. 80K by March 31st would be difficult, even if I weren't going back to school soon, but that's a stretch goal. 100K by April 31st is my minimum, and I'm 9,000 ahead of where I need to be for that.

I think I’m stagnating because I’ve hit the ‘Fun and Games’ section, which I find really boring. I’m going to try to keep going with it, but I may just skip it and come back later.

Saturday 06/03/2021 - Word Count: 28,150 So, I did not get the extra 700 words in. Before dinner, some stuff I had to deal with came up, and by the time it was done, I just wanted to go to bed, so I did. Today, I'm going to try to make up for it, which I think is reasonable because it is now the weekend. I'm still kinda exhausted this morning, but I'm going to do my best, and my wrist hurts, but I'm not sure why. You'd think it would be from all the typing, but only one wrist hurts - you know what? Never mind. They do both hurt. I'm just not sure why, but it doesn't hurt typing this, so that doesn't make any sense. Anyway, to hit my word count for the day, I need to write 2,555 words, which doesn't sound like too much, but it kinda is because I'm primarily writing Act Two at the minute, and for every thousand words I write, I lose like 400 from my outline. You'd think I'd just not include my scene outlines in the word count, but it's too late for that now.

I'm thinking this over, and I really don't think trying to write 80K by the end of the month is going to be good for either my motivation, mental health, or ability to function back at school, so I'm going to stick to 100K or a finished draft by April 30th, and re-work out my goals from there, based on yesterday's word count, so I'm not making myself do catch-up today.

So, to hit 100K by April 30th, I only need to write 1,309 words each day (which will decrease over time because if that's my minimum now, I'll probably surpass it, decreasing the amount of words left etc.). That's so much less pressure.

God, I really don't want to write today. I just want to watch YouTube and Netflix and read.

Okay, so here's the thing. I've been working on this story straight for three weeks and I'm kinda exhausted of it. I'm not done with it, not at all, and I want to keep working on it because it exists, which makes it workable.

I watched a writing vlog by ShaelinWrites yesterday, and she said she writes different projects at once, alternating in week- or multi-week-long blocks. I think I might try that.

My plan with this post and the following updates was to keep updating it until the day it goes up, the day after which is when I begin drafting the next, but, since I may be switching projects for a while and this is really about the project I've decided to dub 'Bay Tree' (which is just, I guess, a pseudonym for here because while I have no idea what it would eventually be called, I know that's nothing like the title I'd want to give it) so I'd want to start a new post for a new project.

I'm now doing a little outlining instead of actually continuing writing, but I think this will help me, though I'm still not certain about whether or not I'm going to directly continue with this specific project for the minute. Instead of setting daily goals based on a target, I'm also just going to say 1,000 words a day, and see where that takes me.

I've just been outlining into Act Three, and I've met a major plot stumble, but I'm going to work that out and explain what I'm doing in my next writing update.

So, go drink some water, eat if you haven't eaten in the last few hours, stand in front of the mirror and tell yourself how wonderful you are and how much happiness you deserve, and, if you want to write a book, stop thinking about it, and go write.

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

Photographs

*Peter Parker x Reader

*Summary: Reader broke things off with Peter when she moved to Wakanda to work with Shuri. Now she looks back at the times they had.

*Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. Swearing, drinking, underage drinking, mentions of (assumed) cheating. Let me know if I missed anything.

*A/N: I’ve been working on this for a bit and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. I realized I’ve been writing a bit of angst lately, so I gave this one a happy ending. Next fic is most likely going to be a Loki fic, but we’ll see. Italics are flashbacks.

My Ko-fi if you want to support my writing

**********

When you looked back at it, you couldn’t help but to mourn what was. You’d ended things with Peter a while back ago when you left to work in Shuri’s lab in Wakanda. Keeping things going just didn’t make sense to you; if you were going to be halfway across the world for over a year, why should you make Peter endure that? It just didn’t seem fair to make him wait for you, so you let him go. Of course it hurt, but why just put off the eventual pain when you could just get it over with now?

You met Peter in high school, never really getting too close to him, always admiring from a distance. You watched as he crushed on Liz, then as he dated Michelle. It wasn’t until senior year that the two of you became close, especially since you discovered you were going to the same university. When you actually started hanging out with him and his group, you just fell harder. You watched as his relationship with Michelle fell apart due to distance, and then as he started falling for you. Your relationship continued through the rest of your college years, and for another year before you left for Wakanda.

Shuri had actually been the one to approach you about joining her in Wakanda. With your newly acquired degree in engineering, she felt that you’d be useful in her lab, and it’d be beneficial for you to work with her and gain experience. Plus, having experience at the Wakandan Royal Lab would open a lot of doors for you in the future. It was an easy decision, and Peter even encouraged you to go. He was stronger than you in that sense; he knew what an opportunity this was, and he was willing to wait for you. You didn’t want to make him do that, though. You did what hurt you the most and let him go. Some days were harder than others, the thoughts of him and what you had together just constantly playing in your mind.

“(Y/n),” Shuri called for your attention. You looked up from the soldering you’d been doing, tilting your head in response. “You’re distracted. What’s wrong?”

“I’m just having an off day, it’s nothing,” you tried brushing her concerns away. You’d met Shuri because of Peter, the two of them pretty close friends. You didn’t want to admit that you’d been thinking of him, lest she bring the news back to him. If he heard that you were still hung up on him, he’d get hope that the two of you could get back together. No, it was better that he move on with his life. It gave him the chance to be happy, and that was all you wanted for him.

“You’ve been soldering that for way too long already, it’s dead. You should’ve noticed that,” she reprimanded you. “I think you need a break. Take the rest of the day off, come back tomorrow when you can actually focus.”

You nodded, knowing there was no point in arguing with her. If you didn’t leave and ended up messing up again, she’d restrict your access to the lab for a month. Even if the two of you were friends, this was her lab and you needed to respect her rules. You put away your equipment and grabbed your things, leaving the lab with a nod at Shuri. You made your way through the streets, stopping by the store on your way back to your apartment. If you were going to remember, you wanted to remember it all. Still, you wanted something to ease the pain.

When you were back in the safety of your apartment, you immediately poured yourself a drink. You downed that, then poured yourself another as you grabbed your phone. You opened the photo album you made of all your pictures and memories with Peter, starting from the beginning. It was a group picture of you, Peter, Ned, and Michelle. Peter’s arm was around Michelle’s shoulders, while you were next to Ned.

“Hey, you’re (y/n), right?” A voice came up behind you as you grabbed some books from your locker.

“Yeah, what’s up?” You asked as you turned around. You didn’t know who you were expecting, but you definitely weren’t expecting your crush to be standing there, a shy smile on his face. You hadn’t spoken to Peter much during your time in school, other than a few times in passing and when you had to work together in class. You could immediately feel your face starting to heat up, and you willed your heart to calm down.

“You got into Empire State University, right?”

“Yeah, I did. How’d you hear about that?” You asked. You’d only told a few friends, choosing to keep your acceptances mainly private information. You didn’t want other people in your business, it just didn’t appeal to you.

“Flash told me,” Peter admitted. Now you needed to figure out how the hell Flash found out. “Anyways, I got in too. Do you think you’re going to go?”

“I don’t really know yet, but I think I am. Are you going?” You asked, rubbing the strap of your backpack. It was a nervous habit, and just being near him was doing things to you. You were amazed you could even form a coherent sentence.

“I’m pretty sure I am. My friends and I are going to visit the school tomorrow if you’d want to come with us,” Peter offered. You didn’t know why he was offering for you to join them, and you knew him and Michelle were a thing, but you weren’t one to pass up an opportunity like this.

“Yeah, that actually sounds great,” you beamed.

“Great! Can I get your number so we can set this up?” Peter held his phone out to you, contacts open. You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you put in your number and handed him back his phone. “Cool! I’ll text you later.”

“Alright, cool.” Peter gave you another smile before turning and walking away. You turned back to your locker, holding in your scream of excitement. Sure, it wasn’t like you were going to be hanging out with Peter alone, and his girlfriend was definitely going to be there, but you were still excited. For the first time in the years you vaguely knew Peter, you finally felt like you were on his radar.

The weekend couldn’t come fast enough. You met Peter, Ned, and Michelle at Midtown, then went as a group to Empire State. You were shy at first, but quickly warmed up to the group. Sure, it hurt a little to see Peter being so affectionate with Michelle, but that didn’t change the fact that the group was really amazing and sweet. That visit to Empire State just jumpstarted your friendship with the group, and you eventually started hanging out with them throughout the end of the year.

You scrolled through the pictures from your senior year, fondness blooming at the memories each one brought. You had pictures from Senior Memory Night, the four of you close and smiling in the purple light from the background. Peter had made sure to submit pictures of you with the group, which surprised you. You knew he took a lot of pictures since you’d joined the group, but you didn’t know he’d submit them. Pictures from graduation were next, the four of you in your caps and gowns. For once it wasn’t a selfie, you’d gotten someone else to take the picture. You were all beaming, the excitement of finishing high school evident even in the picture. Finally you reached the pictures from Grad Nite. The picture was one of your favorites, but it was when Peter was still with Michelle. Michelle and Ned were in one of the gift shops while you and Peter waited outside, too exhausted to move. While you were waiting, Peter ended up falling asleep on your shoulder. You just had to get a picture, you didn’t know if you’d experience something else like that again.

The next picture that made you pause was from your freshman year of college. You were in a (f/c) dress, Peter in a button-up and jeans. Peter’s arm was around you, and both of you were laughing. It was before Peter and Michelle broke up, before the two of you got together, but if you didn’t know better, you would have thought you were a couple just from the way you looked together.

“Peter, get ready,” you said the second he opened the door to his dorm. You were already dressed and ready to go, but you hadn’t even warned Peter. The both of you had been studying way too much, and you could tell Peter was starting to burn out. You’d gotten an invite to a house party from someone in one of your engineering classes, and you thought it was just the thing to get your minds off school.

“What? Why are you so dressed up?” Peter asked, turning in his desk chair.

“Get dressed. We’re going to a party,” you explained. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“Fine,” Peter gave in a lot easier than you thought he would. He stood up and immediately made his way over to his closet while you sat on the bed. He pulled out a navy button-up, holding it in front of him for you to assess. Once you nodded, he took it off of the hanger. “So, are you planning on watching me change or?”

You felt your face heat up even as you rolled your eyes. You turned to face the wall, waving for him to continue. It only took a minute for him to throw off his t-shirt and put on his button-up. Once he gave you the okay, you turned back to him. He looked nice. Tired, but nice. Peter didn’t really question where you were going, probably glad for the distraction. “It’s only a couple blocks away, let’s go,” you said as you left the dorm building.

“How’d you get invited to this party?” Peter asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“A junior in one of my study groups invited me. He said to bring who I wanted, so I brought you,” you said, smiling up at him. Peter didn’t ask any more questions, the two of you just holding idle chatter as you walked to the apartment building. You checked your phone for the address, and soon the two of you were on your way into the party. The music was loud, the stench of alcohol was heavy in the air. Peter gave you a questioning look, but the two of you continued into the party anyways.

An hour and a few drinks in, the two of you were laughing loudly and genuinely enjoying yourselves. You got the brilliant idea to capture your first college party, tapping on someone’s shoulder to ask them to take a picture. As the kind stranger took your picture, Peter cracked one of his goofy little jokes, making the both of you laugh. You took your phone back, thanking the person once again. She made a comment about the two of you being a cute couple, something you brushed off with a laugh. You and Peter went back to enjoying the party, getting lost in the music and atmosphere.

Hours later, you and Peter were walking back to the dorm building. The two of you lived on the same floor, a happy coincidence, and Peter decided to walk you back to your room to make sure you got back safe. As you fumbled with the key to your door, Peter steadied your hand, making you look up at him once the key was in the door. “I had fun tonight, thanks for bringing me,” he said, face close to yours.

Maybe it was the drinks messing with your mind, or maybe it really was about to happen, but you could have sworn he was going to kiss you. He pulled back before your lips could connect, giving you a smile before he walked down the hall to his room. You went into your room, leaning against the door once it was closed. Who were you kidding? He wasn’t going to kiss you, he was dating Michelle. You needed to calm this little crush down.

The next picture was once things had actually started between the two of you. Peter and Michelle ended up breaking up once distance had become too much. You were there for him as he cried over the breakup, always checking in on him to make sure he would be okay. It took a few months for Peter to start feeling okay, and then a few more months for him to timidly ask you out. The picture was actually from your third date, a selfie of the two of you on a walk.

Things were going pretty good during your start. It was your second year of college, and while things class-wise were starting to get more difficult, spending time with Peter made things better. The two of you would hang out at either your place or his, studying or watching movies while you ate takeout. Every once in a while the two of you would actually go out on real dates, but it didn’t happen too often with the amount of work the two of you had. However, as time started to go on, Peter stopped being able to hang out with you, always having something else when you asked him to come over.

You tried not to think much of it, but when the most contact you had with Peter was running into him when both of you were going to class, you started feeling a bit off about the entire thing. You desperately wanted to believe he wasn’t avoiding you, but all the evidence was pointing otherwise. It was even hard to get him on the phone these days.

“Peter, we need to talk,” you said the second you ran into him while going to class. You watched as the shock then worry settled on his face.

“Is everything okay? I have class in a couple minutes,” Peter told you. You gave him a tight-lipped smile. Of course that’s what he was worried about.

“We just need to talk. Come to my apartment after you’re done with your classes,” you replied. “This isn’t something that can be put off.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there,” Peter said, pulling you in to kiss you. You stopped him with a hand on his chest. Now he knew something was wrong. “Do you want to talk now?”

“No, we have classes in a couple minutes,” you reminded him. You turned and made your way down the corridor, daring to sneak a peek over your shoulder to see Peter staring after you.

Your classes finished earlier than Peter’s, so you were at your apartment long before Peter would be able to come over. You needed something to keep your mind off of the conversation you needed to have, so you started baking. Your roommates were out of the apartment for the night, giving you the space you needed. When your cupcakes were in the oven, you needed another distraction, so you decided to start making dinner. You tried to figure out how to frame this entire thing now that you had food made. If you waited to actually talk to him until after dinner, you ran the risk of him thinking you’d just lured him here to have a date. 

Before you could get too into your mind about it, there was a knock on the door. The food was nearly done, so you could risk running to answer it. When you opened the door, you saw Peter still in his clothes from earlier, but holding a bouquet of flowers. He knew he did something wrong, he just didn’t know what it was. “Hey, thanks for coming. I made some food, so do you want to eat first and talk later or?”

“Could we talk first, please? I’ve been thinking about this all day, I need to know what’s on your mind,” Peter immediately jumped at the offer. You nodded, letting him into the apartment. He placed the flowers down on the table before just standing there awkwardly, not really knowing what to do. “So, are your roommates here?”

“No, they all had something to do,” you told him. “You know, I wanted to have this talk but now I really don’t know what to say.”

“Just say whatever comes to mind?”

“Are you over me? Like, are you starting to see someone else, or do you want to?” You asked, amazed at your own bluntness. When Peter said to say whatever comes to mind, you really went with the first thing that came to your mind.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Peter asked, confused. “No, I’m not talking to anyone else and I don’t want to. What made you?” He trailed off but you knew what he was saying.

“It’s just… We don’t really see each other anymore. If we didn’t have some classes in the same building, I don’t think we’d even see each other. And we don’t even call at night anymore. Then there was the time we were on a date and you just left in the middle of it. It feels like you’re avoiding me, and I don’t know what I did to make you do that, so I thought maybe you found someone else you wanted to be with,” you explained. Peter looked around the apartment, like he was looking for his next words. The silence was interrupted by the sound of your kitchen timer going off.

You rushed to the stove, turning off the heat on your dish. You started serving plates, still waiting for Peter to say something. “I’m sorry, I really am. I’m not trying to avoid you, and I promise I have a reason for all of this, I just can’t tell you right now.”

“Am I just supposed to sit here and hope I can get an ounce of attention from my boyfriend?” You questioned, taking the plates to the table. “Could you grab some cups?”

Peter followed your request, grabbing glasses from your cupboard. You went to the fridge and pulled out a jug of iced tea you made earlier in the week. You took it to the table where Peter was already waiting for you, sitting like a kid about to be scolded. Once you took your seat, he spoke again. “I should have been more attentive to you, and I promise I’ll be better. If I have to spend the rest of my life proving it to you, I will.”

“You don’t have to do that much, I just want you to be around a little more,” you explained. “I understand if you’ve been busy, we both have been, but I just want to see a little bit of the effort I put in reflected in you.”

“I know, I’ll make the effort,” Peter told you, reaching across the table to grab your hand. You smiled at the small gesture, feeling like things could be a little better from here on. That lasted about another hour before Peter’s phone started buzzing with urgency. He excused himself to your room to take the call, saying he’d only be gone five minutes tops. Once he’d been gone for a few minutes, you decided to go check on him. Just as you were about to knock on the door, you heard his voice. “Karen, I can’t go right now. I’m trying to fix things with (y/n).”

You paused, going back to the living room and just sitting on the couch. Who was Peter talking to? Why did she want him to come to her? Were you actually right? Peter came back to the living room a few minutes later, finding you in the same position. “Sorry about that, I need to go.”

“I guess this Karen really is important to you,” you replied. “Peter, I will not be lied to. If there is another woman, then I need you to leave and not come back.”

“(Y/n), please, it’s not what-”

“Then what is it, Peter?”

“I can’t tell you,” Peter practically pleaded. It hurt to see him like that, but you had to do this for yourself. If you let him get away with this, what else would he try?

“Then please leave,” you told him, turning to look straight ahead of you. He stood there for a second before leaving, the sound of the door closing echoing in your empty apartment. You had already cleaned up what you needed to after dinner, so that offered no distraction. You settled for just cleaning the kitchen as a whole, needing something to keep your mind off of the matter at hand. Once you were done cleaning, you decided to just go to bed. You could go to the library in the morning to handle whatever studying you fell behind on from today, right now you just needed to sleep.

You were woken in the middle of the night by a rapping on your window. You didn’t know who the hell it was, or what the hell was going on, but you grabbed your pepper spray from your nightstand and went to investigate. Sure, it wasn’t necessarily the best option if someone was out there, but at least it was something. You opened your curtain, seeing the signature red mask of your city’s favorite hero. He waved frantically, and you just opened your window to let him in.

“That’s really not safe to just open your window to someone you don’t know,” he immediately said once he was in your room.

“Sorry, I just don’t believe Spider-Man would break in to harass a civilian,” you sassed. “But, why are you here? I swear I’m not like evil or anything, I’m just a college student.”

“I know you aren’t. I just had something to tell you,” Spider-Man told you. You tilted your head, not sure what Spider-Man would have to tell you. You had no idea how you could benefit him at all, so why was he here?

“Okay, what is it?” You asked, no more cautious than before. Maybe you were connected to something bad and he was here to warn you? Did he just get Peter out of something, and he was here to tell you? While you were starting to get stuck in your own mind, Spider-Man started reaching behind his head, pulling off his mask. “Peter?”

“Hey, (y/n),” Peter said, nerves evident. “I want to tell you everything. I don’t want to risk losing you.”

You were silent, not knowing what to say. You just found out your boyfriend (ex? Did you break up during the fight earlier?) was Spider-Man, and you’d been mad because you hadn’t seen him lately.

“I’ve been busy because of all this,” Peter said, gesturing to the red and blue suit. “Karen is the AI in the suit, she sends notifications to my phone when there’s stuff going on, and if I don’t see it, then she calls me. That’s what the call earlier was about. I wanted to stay, but there was a robbery I had to go to. I didn’t want to tell you because I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“Put me in danger? Peter, you’re running around in tights fighting bad guys,” you argued, trying to process what was going on. Okay, now you had a new reason to be worried about Peter, but at least he wasn’t cheating?

“Okay, first of all they aren’t tights, but that’s the thing you’re worried about?” Peter asked, incredulous.

“Well, yeah. I get why you couldn’t tell me, but like… Sorry, I need to get my mind straight.”

“No, of course. I just needed you to know that I’m not trying to avoid you, and I’m not trying to see someone else either.”

“No shit,” you said, pulling him into a tight hug. Peter’s arms wrapped around you after a second, just holding you close. This was something that you both needed. Of all the things that could’ve happened, you didn’t think this would happen. Peter was Spider-Man, and if he was telling you this, that meant he was planning on keeping you around for a while, right?

There were maybe hundreds of photos from over the next few years. Pictures of you and Peter with your friends at school, hanging out at the Compound whenever you had free days or breaks, trips you’d taken. The next picture you stopped on was from the day you and Peter moved in together. You were in your senior year, and the money from your internship combined with the ‘allowance’ Tony insisted on giving Peter was enough for a small one-bedroom apartment not too far from campus. It was fairly easy to move your smaller stuff into the apartment, but then you had to deal with selling the furniture you couldn’t take with you. Once you had finished with that, and helped Peter with his moving stuff, you were glad to get your things into your new shared apartment.

“I think that’s the last box,” Peter said as he came into the apartment. He put the box down with the rest, which were surprisingly not taking up that much room in the apartment. Though the two of you had already ordered most of the furniture you needed, only a few pieces had been delivered. You were trailing close behind him, carrying another box.

“Actually, this is the last one,” you joked, putting down your box next to his. “Okay, so what do you want to do now?”

“We should start unpacking, then we could order some food,” Peter told you, turning to bring you into his arms. He looked down at you with a proud little smile that you couldn’t help but return. “We have our own place now.”

“We have our own place,” you repeated, reaching up to kiss him. He smiled into the kiss. This was the start of the next chapter of your lives, and you couldn’t wait to see where it would take you.

The next pictures were from your college graduation party. The two of you had a joint party in your apartment with your friends, both new and old. The picture was of the same group from high school, except now Peter’s arm was around your waist. The party wasn’t the first time you hung out with Ned and Michelle following you and Peter getting together, but it was the first time in your and Peter’s apartment. It felt like a different atmosphere, and even though you knew Michelle had no problem with you and Peter dating, you still felt a little awkward.

You were talking with one of your friends from class when there was a knock on the door. Peter looked over at you from across the room, but you just shook your head at him as you went to answer the door. You smiled brightly when you saw Ned and Michelle there. “I’m so glad you guys could make it!”

“Yeah, of course! We wouldn’t miss it,” Ned told you. You hugged each of them in turn, excited to see them for the first time in around a year. “Where’s Peter?”

“He’s inside, come in, come in,” you said, standing to the side so they could walk in. Ned made a beeline for Peter, but Michelle stayed by you, looking around the apartment.

“Your place is pretty nice,” Michelle told you. 

“Thanks. We’re mostly settled in but you know how senior year is. It’s just been hectic,” you said as you shook your head. “How have you been? We haven’t really talked that much.”

“I’ve been doing good, just finishing up my year. Next week we have finals and I’m not looking forward to that,” Michelle told you. “So, you guys are like, really serious.” It wasn’t a question, just an observation.

“Well, yeah. We’ve been together for about three years now,” you replied, not sure where she was going with this. While all of you were friends, you still felt the weird need to defend your relationship against his ex-girlfriend.

“I think you guys are good for each other. He’s really happy.” That caught you off guard. You should’ve known by now to never assume you knew what Michelle was about to say, but you still made that mistake. “And he told you when you guys were pretty fresh, so he obviously trusts you a ton too. I’m glad he has you.”

With that, Michelle gave you a small smile and headed over to Peter and Ned, leaving you staring behind her. You were just quietly watching them until one of your friends came up, getting your attention again.

The next year out of college was a little more difficult. Your internship didn’t offer you a full-time job, but still offered for you to keep your internship with a path to employment. Peter was working at Stark Industries now, and definitely increasing his time with the Avengers. Even though Peter offered to help you get a job at Stark Industries, you wanted to do this on your own, even if it took a little longer. The pictures were more scarce in that year, just a few from Avengers’ parties and other events. Those were before Shuri came to you with the job offer, before you decided to break things off to go to Wakanda.

You had a long weekend and Peter was away on a mission, so you decided to stay at Peter’s place in the Compound. Though the two of you still had your apartment together, sometimes it was just easier for Peter to stay at the Compound the night after a mission finished and head back to the city the next day. You wouldn’t stay with him too often, but when you had some extra time, you would wait for him at the Compound. Plus, it was always nice to talk to the flow of different people coming through the Compound.

You were just on your laptop in one of the common rooms, idly browsing the internet, when you felt someone just standing behind you. You looked over your shoulder and saw Shuri there, smiling brightly. Shuri didn’t often come to the Compound, so it was a pleasant surprise. “Hey! It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has been. Where’s Peter?” Shuri asked. You didn’t blame her; it was pretty rare that you were without him.

“He’s still on a mission, but he’s supposed to get back sometime today. Did you need to talk to him?”

“No, I actually wanted to talk to you. You’re still with an internship, right?” Shuri asked as she came around the couch to sit next to you. You closed your laptop.

“Yeah, why?”

“Come work with me. I need someone who knows what they’re doing in my lab, and it’ll help you get work if you decide to come back here,” Shuri told you. “I wanted to ask you alone so you had some time to think about it before talking to Peter. You probably want to stay in New York, but please think it over.”

With that, Shuri switched over to less heavy topics, just chatting about what’s been going on in your lives and random things you guys have started following. Even though the topic had changed, you couldn’t help but think about the job offer. Sure, it’d be nice to work with your friend, and working at the Wakandan Royal Lab would add a certain prestige to your resume, but you didn’t know if you were ready to uproot your whole life. Shuri didn’t give you a time limit for making your decision, she told you she’d be ready to get you whenever if you decided to take her up on her offer.

You waited about a week before you brought it up to Peter. You’d just gotten home from work and it’d been a particularly bad day. Even though you’d been working at the company for two years, since you were still an intern, the actual employees still treated you like shit. Once you walked in the apartment, you saw Peter making dinner. He looked up and smiled at you, but once he saw your tired frame, he immediately looked concerned.

“Hey, babe,” you said, walking over to put your bag on the couch.

“How was work?” Peter asked.

“Well, I was definitely reminded that I’m an intern,” you huffed, going to stand by the counter, out of Peter’s way. “How about you?”

“I can’t say much happened,” Peter told you. “Why don’t you come work with me? I’m sure Mr. Stark can find something for you, we always need more engineers.”

“I already told you, I want to get a job just based on my qualifications,” you said. “I don’t know if I want to stay at my job, though. Shuri offered me a position in her lab in Wakanda.”

“That’s great! Shuri’s lab is always working on cool things,” Peter told you. That was one of the things you slightly dreaded about telling Peter. You knew he would encourage you to go; after all, it was probably the greatest opportunity you’d get so early in your career. There was just the issue of having to move to a whole other continent for who knows how long.

“Yeah, I’m just not sure about having to move out to Wakanda. Like, pretty much everything in my life is here in New York,” you explained. “I know it’s a great opportunity, but I don’t know if I should uproot my entire life.”

Peter walked over to sit next to you on the couch, wrapping an arm around you. “That’s a decision that’s ultimately up to you. Do you want my opinion?”

“Of course I do.”

“I don’t think another opportunity like this is going to come up anytime soon. Working with Shuri will be a great experience, and then when you come back to New York, you can apply with more experience working as a full-time engineer,” Peter told you. “It might seem like a lot, but you’ll still have a friend around.”

“But what about this? We’ve never done long distance, and we don’t even know how long I’m going to be gone,” you finally voiced your concerns. You watched as Peter and Michelle’s relationship fell apart due to distance, what made you think this would be any different?

“Hey, we’ll deal with that when it comes. I’ll wait for you,” Peter said, smiling at you.

The next few pictures were more casual pictures of you and Peter. The last picture you had was just a candid picture of Peter. You’d accepted Shuri’s job offer, and she gave you a month to figure things out in New York before coming to get you. The days were winding down, and you only had a few days before you were leaving for Wakanda. Peter was working on his laptop at the table, the light from the dining area dimly lighting up the entire living area. You were laying on the couch, reading some documents Shuri had asked you to go over before starting. You looked over, seeing Peter slightly hunched over his laptop, the yellow light peeking through his dark hair, making it look like a soft halo around him. You couldn’t help but pick up your phone and snap a quick picture, knowing it would be the last time you saw it.

“Peter, can we talk?” You asked, packing the last of your suitcase. You were supposed to leave tomorrow, but you still had to grab a few things. Shuri had told you not to worry about taking too much, just the things you couldn’t live without. You didn’t know what was going to happen with the things you couldn’t take, that was up to Peter now.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Peter walked into your shared bedroom, holding a book that he’d gotten for you on your last birthday. “This was in the bookshelf, but I thought you’d wanna take it with you.”

The smile he gave you was so soft and loving, it just made what you had to do that much harder. You took it from him with a soft thank you, putting it on the bed next to the other things you were going to put in your backpack. You zipped up your suitcase and sat on the bed, looking at the floor as you tried to gather your thoughts. Sure, you should have figured this out before you called him in, but now you were here and you had no idea what to say.

“Babe, are you okay?” Peter asked, kneeling on the floor to look you in your eyes. You took a deep breath.

“I… don’t think we should keep doing this. It’s not fair to you to wait for me while I spend who knows how long in Wakanda,” you said. “You deserve someone who can be here for you. You need someone who’ll be here to tell you it’s okay now when you get back from missions, someone who can hold you after a long day at work, someone you can come home to when you get back from patrols. I can’t be that person if I’m not here.”

“What? (Y/n), even if you’re not here in New York, I still want to be with you.” You could tell Peter was panicking, trying to figure out what he could say to make you stay. “I’ll go visit you in Wakanda as often as I can, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. I love you so much.”

“Peter, my mind is made up. It hurts, and you know I’ve already thought this through, but realistically, even visiting wouldn’t really happen. When you’re not busy with work, you have to do your thing as Spider-Man. It wouldn’t be right for me to put more pressure on you to deal with a long distance relationship. I’m really sorry, I am. I really do love you, but I think this is probably for the best,” you told him. You could see every emotion flicker on his face before he realized that he couldn’t convince you otherwise.

“Can I at least drive you to the Compound still? I want to have at least one more night with you,” Peter said, voice thick. You could tell he was holding back tears, and that made it harder to hold in your own. You nodded.

The next morning you and Peter made the drive out to the Compound, suitcases and a few boxes in the car with you. The drive was almost silent, music playing softly to fill the car with something. Shuri was already there when you got to the Compound, so you loaded your things into the Talon Fighter while Shuri and Peter talked. It didn’t take long for you to finish. When you walked back out, Shuri took a look between you and Peter. “I’ll leave you guys for a moment. Just tell me when you’re ready to go.”

Once Shuri was inside the Talon Fighter, Peter turned to you. “There’s nothing I can say to make you change your mind, is there?”

You shook your head. “Peter, please. I want you to move on and be happy, can you do that for me?”

The tears in Peter’s eyes were obvious, and he did nothing to hide them. “I’m not sure if I can, but for you I’ll try. I love you, (y/n).”

“I love you too,” you told him. Peter pulled you in then, pressing a kiss to your lips. He wasn’t demanding, he was just trying to pour every emotion into this last gesture. You savored it, knowing this would be the last time you’d get to kiss him. When he pulled back from the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours. “I wish you the best, Peter. You deserve it.”

“You deserve it more. Goodbye, (y/n).” With that, Peter let you go.

You put down your drink, knowing you’d had enough for the night. You had enough to wallow in your sorrows, but you still had work tomorrow so you weren’t going to have any more. You sat on the couch, just staring into your living room. You knew you needed to get up, shower, then go to bed, but you couldn’t find the energy to actually do that. Looking at the couch, you wondered if it would really be that uncomfortable to sleep where you sat.

It took a few more minutes for you to finally get up, knowing the aches from sleeping on the couch would just make work hell. You weren’t quite done wallowing in your sorrow, but you went through the motions anyway. You pulled on an old shirt of Peter’s that you took in the move, wanting the comfort of having him even if you couldn’t actually have him. Before you got in bed, you grabbed the book from your nightstand, the same one Peter made sure you wouldn’t forget. You opened it and ran your finger over the little note he wrote on the title page.

Love you always,

Peter

**********

“Hey, Shuri, so I was thinking about the new project and-” you cut yourself off, seeing someone that definitely wasn’t Shuri standing at your workstation. You would know the man anywhere, having spent close to a decade loving him. “Peter?”

He turned around, looking like he couldn’t quite believe you were there, even though you worked here. “(Y/n),” he breathed.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked.

“I flew him out,” Shuri said, walking in from somewhere in the back of the lab. “Neither of you are doing good, now fix it. You have an hour before the others come in.”

With that, Shuri walked out of the lab, leaving you and Peter just standing there. You didn’t know what to say, so you figured you’d start with the obvious. “So, Shuri flew you out?”

“Yeah.” Peter laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “She just showed up at the apartment yesterday and said I was going with her.”

The apartment. So he hadn’t moved since you left. “Definitely sounds like something she’d do. Did she give you a reason or were you just down to go?”

“I figured if she came to get me, it was something to do with you. I wanted to make sure you were safe,” he admitted. “I always wonder how you’re doing out here, but I could never work up the nerve to call.”

“Yeah. I was hoping you’d move on, but I guess you didn’t,” you said with a sad smile, finally looking at him.

“I couldn’t. My heart was in Wakanda.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. It was just… so Peter. 

“You’re so cheesy, I’ve always loved that,” you told him. He brightened at that, walking up to wrap you in his arms. “I really missed you.”

“I missed you too. I know why you left, but why did you end it?” Peter asked, his voice muffled from his face now pressed into your neck.

“I thought you deserved someone who could physically be there for you. I know you’re a physical touch kind of person and it wasn’t fair to just expect you to change all that,” you told him.

“I said I would wait for you. You should have let me decide if it wasn’t fair to me.” Peter pulled back from the hug, still holding you as he took in your appearance. “Hey, please don’t cry.”

You didn’t even realize you’d started crying. “Sorry. Do… so what do you want to do now?”

“I mean, from what Shuri told me, you didn’t exactly move on either. Do you think we could try this the right way now? If it ends up not working, at least we tried our best.”

“I think I’d like that,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to decide, I really thought I was keeping you from hurting.”

“It’s okay now. We’ll figure out where to go from here.” Peter rubbed his thumb over the apple of your cheek before slowly moving in. You could tell he was giving you the time to back away if you didn’t want this, so you took the initiative. You pressed your lips to his, and while he paused for a second, you could feel him melt into the kiss. It felt right, like none of the past year had happened. It felt like coming home.

**********

Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness

[longinglook]

I’m going to be gone for most of the day so I thought that the best way to use up my last 10 minutes before leaving would be to write a multi paragraph post on what I think about Fighter’s behavior so here we go

(under a read more because this could get very very long)

so. fighter. our confused messy boy we are just starting to understand

i’ve read a lot of tweets/posts/comments of people that don’t understand his behavior or think that his storyline doesn’t make sense which has always left me a bit perplexed because to me everything he does seems justified and coherent to where his mind is at the moment so i’ll try to explain

but first, something about me kfmslkcls 

i identify as lesbian but i have struggled with compulsive heterosexuality all my life, i’ve spent years identifying as bi because the scary part for me was not admitting that i liked girls but admitting that i did not like boys past the occasional crushes on fictional boys and let me tell you: a lot of what fighter does/the way he thinks reminds me so much of how i was and here’s a list of things:

1) he seems a lot more at ease with same sex friends, the only times we see him with hwa you can tell that he’s forcing himself to act a certain way, he knows he’s supposed to do boyfriend things like taking her on dates and kissing but he is not comfortable with it, he tries and fails at it. of course part of the reason is because of his father but not only does he seem uniterested in her, there’s always a sense of uneasiness when he’s with her, like he’s scared of actually having to kiss her. he’s fine with the relationship as long as it’s just texting and hanging out (like a friendship would be) but he seems not to want it to become phisical. since he’s a very confused boy he’s probably blaming all of this on his father forcing him into the relationship, instead of knowing right away that he’s not interested in her

2) thinking whatever he has with tutor is just friendship and teasing: i feel like this is such a common experience for most lgbt+ folks, thinking you just have a deep friendship with someone of the same sex, only to later realize it was actually a crush and you had no idea. ex. liking the casual cuddling and touches and looking for more, paying close attention to all the displays of affection, wanting to always be close and being a little jealous of everyone else that they interact with. I feel like a lot of people go through this thinking it’s just a friendship, especially if it’s with someone of the same sex because they are not even considering the option of it being a crush. that’s why fighter keeps saying that they’re only friends and he’s behaving like a close friend would, he just doesn’t let himself consider the option because it would be way too scary and that leads us to point #3

3) being too scared to say what he wants: he does this A LOT. instead of asking for something, which would mean saying it out loud and admitting it, he just acts. words can be so scary (again making this about me, i have id’d as lesbian for over 2 years now and ive come out to a lot of friends but ive never said the word lesbian out loud because it’s just terrifying to me), and fighter seems to only use them after he has acted to justify whatever dumb shit he has done with an excuse. saying something like “i kissed you because i wanted to” would mean admitting he wants to kiss another man (meaning he’s not straight) and that man is fighter (meaning he has feelings for him). it’s much easier for him to go with the flow  and do first, explain later. and by explaining i mean lying, even to himself because deep down he knows, of couse he knows what’s going on but acknowledging it would have serious implications on his life.

also the way he reacts to tutor asking him if he likes boys is a big indicator of what's going on with him, it's his way of answering, not his way of avoiding the question. he can't say it out loud so he shows it but then he's scared of the consequences and no homos it. and the choice of replaying the question scene while they're making out shows us that fight is tormented by it, he's scared of other people asking him that as well, now that tutor has noticed it more people could as well and that's why he pulls away. 

4) on a similar note, teasing until tutor does something/not wanting to be the one to start it: this is pure fighter behavior, hoping tutor will be the one to start it so he doesn’t have to. i called this gay chicken last week, it’s fighter making everything into a challenge so he can blame it on tutor and say that he was just reacting. we can see how desperate he is for tutor’s attention, how happy he is when he has it and how frustrated he is when he doesn’t. he’s like a child who wants people to pay attention to him but doesn’t know how to ask for it, so they start annoying people. fight knows very well that he could just say hey tutor i’m here, please talk to me but how could he give a realistic reason for it other than because i have a massive crush on you meaning i’m not straight. he knows tutor doesn’t back down from a challenge and he riles him up because he has learned what that will lead them to. it’s like he knows there’s an easier way to get to that, but it’s scary so he just keeps going with his soundproof tesing tacting which so far has worked every time. also in general reacting is a lot easier than acting, again a personal example: if someone asks me if i like girls I’ll say yes right away, but if i have to start the conversation i won’t. (one thing i do a lot is to be like “hey i have something to tell you about myself but you have to guess it”)

5) backtracking/giving mixed signals: again he’s terrified, he knows what he wants but he knows what /wanting it/ implies. sometimes he follows his heart, but then his brain comes back to tell him that, hey, you’re kissing another dude and you’re enjoying it and of course he freaks out and leaves. i would be way more annoyed with him if the show had been portraying tutor as pining and in love, meaning that fighter has been giving him false-ish hopes, but after ep.6 we see that tutor himself still hasn’t admitted to himself that he likes fighter (in bold because i feel like this part is very important and often overlooked) so they are both confused about their feelings. 

i don’t think they are actually confused, they know but they are scared which in my opinion is very realistic of how someone behaves when they thought they were straight and they are not. It’s not about being dumb or being slow, it’s about realizing that once you take that step and acknowledge you’re not straight your life changes. idk how many of you are actually not straight (i assume most just because tumblr) but like…… coming out is so stressful being straight is just so much easier you dont have to do shit i wish that were me

6) his father: i feel like we only grazed the surface of fighter’s daddy issues, but he seems to be a very controlling and inflexible man, meaning that he probably wouldn’t be thrilled at the idea of his son dating another man. we don’t know about fight’s past, and maybe he has already had crushes on men and had to repress them. fighter seems to be used to a pretty luxurious lifestyle, he can’t just fuck off and go against his father because he would lose his support.

so it’s not just admitting things to himself, which can be insanely hard on its own especially if you were brought up in a traditional family, it’s also having to deal with the reactions from everyone around you

I KEEP THINKING ABOUT NEW THINGS TO ADD TO THIS POST SORRY anyway i think fighter has already shown multiple times that he does care for tor, it's just in a very shy and lowkey way because he's scared of giving himself away but he does indeed worry about tor (ex. he notices tor is stressed about his test, he tries to help outat his part time job). it also seems that in times of urgency he's more explicit about ex. offering to pay off his debt when tor was being threatened or saying he's his boyfriend when the gross cafe dude was hitting on him

also can we talk about how heartbreaking and soft fighter can be when he lets down his guard and shows his emotional side ex. telling tor nobody has ever taken care of him like that or the way he looks every time tutor pulls away first... this poor boy is touch starved and he craves affection but he can't ask for it yet. he's going to be a real gem once he can be honest with his feelings

for future episodes i think that tutor and fighter are well on their way to realizing their feelings for each other and there's going to be some development soon, but i dont expect fighter to come out to anyone else in the next few episodes because there's a lot of work to be done still. i just hope they dont pull the /i dont like boys i just like you/ trope because i WILL drop this show. so. fast. please don't ruin this character please let him accept his attraction to men fully

in conclusion. i dont blame fighter for anything he has done so far, he’s scared shitless but knows what’s going on, i trust he will soon be brave enough to start being honest with himself and with tutor

man this did NOT  take 10 minutes to write and i dont have time to proofread

[dorkylittleweirdo]

Just One Night (part 5)

Here’s part 5 y’all ^-^ things are gonna start heating up again in the next chapter or so, so get ready for that. If anyone has any suggestions/requests, hmu bc I always need ideas lmao. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

Gaius x Mc, don’t like, don’t read

It had been well over a year since you and Gaius had parted ways in the park. To say you had moved on would be a lie. You thought of him constantly, wondering how he was doing, if he was still alive. If he missed you. You flicked through different channels on your TV, when you heard a knock at the door. You let out a groan as you stood from the couch, making your way to your door. You didn’t even stop to think who could possibly be knocking this late in the evening when you unlocked your door and pulled it open, taking a startled step back when you saw who was at the door. “It’s you!”

Gaius looked himself up and down, then at you. “I should hope so,” he quipped, a slight smirk on his face. Though he tried to keep a neutral expression, he couldn’t contain the joy that sparkled in his eyes when he looked at you.

“But you- aren’t you supposed to be in Europe?” You asked, confusion evident in your voice.

"I can go back," he offered, taking a step back and watching how your eyes widened.

"Wait, no, I-" You struggled to string a somewhat coherent sentence together, your face burning as you opened your door wider. "Do you.. wanna come in?"

Gaius nodded, stepping into your apartment. Not much had changed since he had last been here. A few decorations had been added, sure, but everything remained in the same place.

The shock of Gaius's unannounced visit was wearing off, though questions still whirled through your mind. You shut your door and locked it again, causing Gaius to quirk a brow.

"Trying to trap me in here, I see," he teased, earning an eye roll from you.

"You wish," you replied, walking to your couch and motioning for him to follow. You sat down on one end of the couch, while Gaius seated himself on the other side. "So, how's Europe been?"

"It's.. nice. You'd like it there," he told you with a soft smile. "I still haven't exactly settled down, it's been mostly just traveling around."

You nodded. "Sounds exciting," you commented, returning the smile he gave you. Admittedly, you were a bit jealous that Gaius had been exploring Europe while you were stuck in New York. Your life went from action-filled and spontaneous, to mundane and predictable. You longed for a new adventure, something different.

He simply shrugged. "What's new around here?" Gaius inquired, looking at you expectantly. God, how he missed being able to see you while he was away. His days were spent filled with thoughts of you, though he would never admit it. He almost couldn't believe that he was sitting on your couch, face-to-face with you again.

"Oh, you know. The same," you answered, giving him a small chuckle. "Not much changes in the city. But I'm sure you have exciting stories about where you've been the past year." You gave him a hopeful look.

"It hasn't been that exciting," he told you, shaking his head.

"I live in the city, Augustine," you deadpanned. "Anything is more interesting than that."

Gaius chuckled. "I doubt it's as exciting as you think it is," he responded. "I just go around helping people who need it. That's all."

"I can't believe you're being so modest about it," you groaned, shooting him a playful smile as you inched closer to him.

"And I can't believe you're making such a big deal out of it," he retorted, rolling his eyes.

You gazed at him, noticing how much more at ease he looked than the last time you had seen him. You smiled. "I'm happy for you. You know that, right?"

Gaius looked almost startled. "Come again?"

"I'm happy for you," you repeated. "You found something you like doing. And by the sound of it, you're doing good at it, too. You've come a long way, that's something to be proud of."

He stared at you for a moment, unsure if you were being truthful or not. Just by the look on your face, he knew you were being honest. "Have I made you proud..?"

You gave him a funny look. "Of course you have," you said with a soft laugh. "But why does that matter?"

"Because I'm doing this for you," Gaius admitted, unable to meet your curious gaze. "The whole redemption thing, I'm doing it for you."

"For me?" You echoed, tilting your head at him. "What do you mean?"

Nervously, Gaius looked up, his eyes meeting yours. "I want to become a man worthy of you," he confessed.

Your eyes widened. Was that the reason he'd left for Europe in the first place? "You already are," you breathed, your eyes locked on his. "You were before you even left."

"I know that, my dear," he responded, closing the distance between you and reaching out to brush a hand against your cheek. "But I needed to prove that to myself. You're too good for this world, so kind and forgiving. Not everyone is like you."

"So… have you proved yourself worthy by your standards yet..?" You asked, giving Gaius a hopeful smile.

"Let's test it, shall we?" He cupped your cheek and leaned in to gently press his lips against yours, feeling you kiss back almost instantly. He pulled away a moment later, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“Well?”

Gaius pretended to ponder for a moment. “I couldn’t tell.”

You smiled, then shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to try again.” You quickly captured his lips with yours again, feeling Gaius move his hand to the small of your back, pulling you against him. You draped your arms over his shoulders. You’d forgotten just how much you missed this in the past year, pulling away with a satisfied smile.

“Maybe one day, I’ll be worthy of your lips,” he stated, moving his thumb to lightly brush over your bottom lip. Gaius had missed you terribly, but despite how you reacted, he still felt like he didn’t even deserve to be in the same room as you. He didn’t deserve you.

“I’ll be here when you decide you are,” you answered, gazing longingly into his eyes. You never realized just how beautiful his pale blue eyes really were until you couldn’t see them anymore. Now that you had his eyes back in your life, you never wanted them to leave.

Gaius moved away from you, giving you a guilty, apologetic look. “I can’t stay. There’s still so much I have to do, and I can’t do it here.” He was expecting yelling, maybe tears. What he wasn’t expecting was what you did next.

“Take me with you,” you urged, your eyes pleading. You were more than willing to leave everything behind. You desperately needed a change of pace, a reason to leave this city that only served to remind you of all you had lost.

“Are you sure..?” Gaius questioned, earning a nod from you. “Then I’ll be more than happy to have your company.”

“How long until we leave?”

“A few days, a few weeks. Whenever we want, Your Highness.”

You grinned, flinging yourself against him, your lips colliding with his. You didn’t care what happened next, you just wanted to live in this moment with Gaius. You had the rest of eternity to figure everything out.

Tag list (let me know if you wanna be added or taken off):

@somin-yin @freya-blanco @opheliadawnwalker3 @galaxy-of-rosess @an-urban-witch-ig @noboundariesplease @edgiestwinter @you-maniac @madaboutchoices @tea-effect @theclownandtheflame @bloodbound-writes @luciemiddleford @cryinginthebackseat @mrs-gaius-augustine @infinitiestones @crazyyfaaangirl @thirteenis-myluckynumber

[markrees]

Sunflower - Mark Lee

Mark is sweet. And gentle. And comfortable to be around with when he isn’t causing you to almost hyperventilate. 

category: au!college Mark / i live for college student mark ;; f l u f f  / shy mark, flustered mark, sweet mark, mark in general 

word count: 11.5K sorry 

warnings: none, just a lot of fluff really. 

a/n: this took me weeks to finish :( i hope you like it! 

Everything seemed to happen in a whizzing blur because right now you were still unable to fully comprehend what had just happened. One second you were walking to your next class, traipsing along the grey concrete of your university campus and the next second you found yourself on the ground, a painful sensation shooting up your right arm as you scrunch up your face in agony. You absentmindedly stare at the cast being applied carefully to the affected arm from the impact of your fall, eyeing the doctor’s fluid movements as he expertly does his task with major ease. To your left, you feel eyes burning holes on the side of your face, shifting his stare between your side view and your broken arm.

Mark Lee, also known as the cute boy in your advanced anatomy and physiology classes always hidden behind the rims of his round glasses, black hair and in the comfort of his hoodies, was standing just at the edge of your hospital bed watching you and the doctor quietly. Mark Lee, also known as the very person responsible for your dazed-like state resulting from the effects of the pain medications you had received earlier to manage your misery.

“The cast will have to stay on for six weeks,” the doctor says, snapping you out of your hazy thoughts as he finishes up. “You have to keep it dry at all costs but if you feel something isn’t right or if it’s too tight, come back to us straight away so we can fix it.”

You absentmindedly nod and examine your new arm and its new weight. The only thing you can move now were your fingers, left free at the end of the constriction. “Thank you doctor.”

With a smile and a nod, the doctor steps out of your cubicle, leaving you and Mark in silence. Oblivious to you, Mark had been paying much more attention to everything the doctor had said given the fact that he was more in tune with his surroundings while you were in a dizzy state. You’d momentarily forgotten Mark was there with you and you nearly flinch when you hear him speak.

“I’m really sorry, this is all my fault,” he says, guilt dripping from his voice and steps closer so that he can lean on the edge of your bed beside you.

You shake your head weakly, offering a small smile in hopes of reassuring him. “No, it’s alright. It’s no one’s fault. It was an accident.”

Mark rubs the nape of his neck as he stares into the wall opposite the two of you, replaying the earlier events and how he had knocked you off of your feet when he lost his balance on his bicycle.

“I shouldn’t have been cycling there in the first place, so really, it was my fault. You’d still have a perfectly working arm by now if I didn’t wake up late and wasn’t late for class.”

You laugh at his words and fiddle with the material of your cast. It was the first time you felt so light for the day and Mark eases at the sound of your laugh, loosening up his tense shoulders because of the guilt that had been eating him alive.

“It’s okay, really. It doesn’t hurt anymore so I should be okay,” you say and turn your head slightly to your left only to be met by a still guilty looking Mark. You raise your left hand and pat him gently on the back. “Mark, it’s fine. My arm is okay. I’m alive.”

He tears his eyes off the wall and cranes his neck slightly to look at you, a small smile forming on his lips as an appreciation of your consolation. “Is there at least anything I can do to make it a bit better?”

“Mark you really don’t have to—“

“I insist Y/N.”

You grow silent for a while, blinking at him.

“Anything at all. Don’t be shy. It’s the least I could possibly do,” Mark adds, determined to make it up to you.

You come to a conclusion that no matter how much you assure him you were alright, he would never not be guilty because honestly if you were in his shoes, you’d probably be basking yourself in utter guilt right now. So you decide to make it easier for him knowing what he’s feeling right now won’t vanish in a glimpse just from your words alone.

“Okay,” you finally say. You shift your gaze to your broken arm, an idea finally popping in your mind.

“Y-you can—” you start and you feel your chest tighten slightly when you catch Mark staring intently at you, silently prodding you to continue with warmth radiating from his big brown orbs.

“Bring me home?”

—

Week one.

Having a broken arm was more inconvenient than you had initially thought and to make matters worse, it was your dominant hand that just had to snap in two. Blowing a raspberry, you walk into your first lecture of the week ever since the incident, your face scrunching involuntarily as you recall how much of a struggle it was to get ready for university this morning. You walk along the large lecture hall and find your usual seat in the middle of the room that you had always opted to sit on; not to close to be noticed by the professor and not too far to be unable to see anything clearly. It isn’t long before the hall gets filled with bustling students, a lot of them clinging onto paper cups of hot beverages to keep them fuelled for the long day ahead.

You catch sight of the professor emerging from the door and takes his place on the podium to the right corner. With much struggle, you manage to take out your usual materials for class, mainly your anatomy and physiology notebook and your favourite black pen that somehow managed to make early lectures more bearable. The professor begins to speak coherently with the slides displayed on the huge screen and when you’re about to reach for your pen, realisation hits like a truck. You couldn’t write. And you groan in frustration upon the reminder, earning a few looks from the students not too far away from you. Luckily, it wasn’t loud enough for the professor to hear who continued to switch from one slide to another. You let out a sigh as quietly as you could, trying your best to hide your disappointment. So you sit back instead and attempt to listen to everything the professor taught, absorbing as much as your brain allowed so that maybe, you could type up your own notes later. It felt weird not to be writing because it was always something you did in every class. There’s anxiety bubbling up in your chest when your thoughts inadvertently fly to the remaining classes of the day— how were you going to survive?

You end up missing half the things said in your anatomy class because you were too focused on worrying about how the next six weeks would pan out. So when the professor dismisses your class, you rise from your seat with another groan, stuffing your untouched belongings into your bag with a huff. This day was not looking bright and it was only the first class. You can only imagine how difficult it would be to mentally prepare yourself for the rest of the day.

When you exit the hall to make your way to the next one, you stop in the middle of your tracks when your names echoes in between the walls of the building.

“Y/N!”

You turn around and find Mark lightly jogging up to you. He’s wearing yet another hoodie with black jeans and glasses sitting snugly on the bridge of his nose. You smile at him when he reaches you soon after, unknowingly forgetting about how horrible your day was unraveling.

“How’s the arm?” He asks, securing one of the straps of his backpack on his shoulder.

You raise your right arm and wave it slightly in front of him. “Still broken, I think.”

Mark chuckles at your reply and you find yourself smiling along. “Yeah about that I’m really sorry.”

“Mark I was joking. And it’s fine, I promise,” you say.

He purses his lips and nod in defeat. “But still,” he starts and stops himself from apologising again. “Anyways, here.”

You look down and see pages in his hands being extended out to you. You glance back up at him. “What are those?”

He prods you to take them from his hands and you do so, scanning through the handwriting sprawled everywhere on the first page. From the corner of your eye, you see Mark rub the nape of his neck again, a bashful smile playing on his lips.

“Well since uh.. I figured you can’t write because of your arm,” Mark says and you pick up on how shy he’s suddenly become. “So I took notes for you from today’s class.”

You scan the remaining pages and true enough, Mark had taken down everything that was discussed in the class earlier, even drawing mini diagrams with labels here and there and you smile when you see him add his own little notes and reminders on the sides of the pages in a different coloured pen. Mark’s writing wasn’t the neatest and you know it’s because of how fast paced the anatomy lectures usually were and how much of a struggle it was to actually keep up with the professor’s words. But what impresses you is that he’s managed to write everything down in such a short span of time, something you couldn’t do, always missing a few important bits.

You couldn’t help but feel a weight lifted off of your shoulder.

“I know it might not be as good as the notes you usually take but—“

You didn’t realise how happy a bunch of pages put together made you until you find yourself jumping up to envelop your arms around Mark’s neck. Maybe it was the fact that you were so convinced you’d have a horrible day ahead and the fact that Mark had come to rescue you from a fraction of your misery without him knowing but right now, you were just happy and you wanted to hang on to the positive things to help you through the long classes waiting for you. It was a small gesture from Mark. But to you, it was more than enough. 

“Oh my goodness this is perfect. Thank you so much. You didn’t have to—“ You stop midway when you realise the position you had gotten yourself into and immediately peel yourself off of Mark who didn’t get the chance to fully comprehend the actions you had just exhibited.

You find him blinking rapidly behind his glasses when you step away from him. You feel heat creep up on your cheeks along with the embarrassment taking over every cell of your body and before he could open his mouth to say something, you cut him off.

“I will study these notes well! Thank you!” You say with a smile, “I’ll see you around then Mark!” You continue quickly and turn on your heels to walk away before he could notice your face that by now is probably as red as a tomato.

-

Week two.

After a week of adjusting, you were slowly getting used to using one good arm and compromising with the other. Basic tasks such as washing the dishes, taking a shower and brushing your teeth was still a challenge but everyday seemed to get easier. Instead of writing notes physically during lectures, you found it easier to type as you listened, given that your fingers were functioning just fine. Though it felt weird not to be using your favourite pens and turning the pages of your notebook and staring at the bright screen for hours, you felt calmer knowing you kept track of everything you had to study.

The only physical notes you had from the previous week was Mark’s. And there were times you’d discover yourself staring at the pages a little longer, studying not the material, but every stroke that he produced on the page. You had found fascination in the way he wrote his words and even though you’ve studied his material countless of times, you couldn’t help but revise all the information squashed into the reams over and over again. You’re convinced you’ve memorised the nitty gritty of how the human kidneys worked at this stage.

You don’t see Mark after that encounter. After all, you only have once class together and it only occurred once a week. But you’re surprised with how much you’ve been thinking about him. It isn’t until today that you see him again, walking up the stairs of the lecture hall, scanning the room for a seat until he stops just by the row you always sat yourself in. You were early today and so you took comfort in the emptiness and silence of the hall that was yet to be filled with students you really didn’t know. You catch his eyes just as he stands by the edge of the row of empty seats and smiles at you then before scooting himself inside until he’s standing over the seat next to yours.

“Hey,” he greets. “Is this seat taken?”

You glance down at the chair and then back up at Mark, shaking your head lightly. “No, it’s not.”

He smiles at your response and proceeds to sit on the empty chair, placing his backpack just underneath the table.

You blink a couple of times, quite taken aback that the person you’ve just been thinking about (and all week) is sitting right next to you. He’s wearing another hoodie today, a red one, and his dark brown hair is falling just on top of his glasses. You don’t remember ever sitting next to Mark, your memories of him only ever consisting of the boy who sat near the back, in the corner beside another student whom you didn’t know the name of.

There’s silence echoing in the huge hall and you try to rack your brain for things to talk about. Mark seems to be thinking the exact same thing because you both speak at the same time when a topic comes to mind.

“How are—“

“The notes—“

You both chuckle shortly after and Mark gestures for you to speak first. He’s smiling and you notice little sparkles in his eyes. You give yourself a moment to come back to your world after being momentarily lost in the way that his nose crinkled whenever he laughed.

“The notes from last week,” you start. “They were really good. I studied well, thank you.”

The smile on Mark’s lips widen. “Yeah? I was actually worried they didn’t make any sense. I’ve already broken your arm, I don’t want you failing this module too.”

You let out a hearty laugh and you don’t see the way Mark watches you with contentment. “No no. They were actually better than the notes I usually write. So I’m pretty sure no one’s failing anytime soon.”

Mark nods in satisfaction and he pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he leans forward to rest his clasped hands on the table.

“Well then, leave today’s class up to me,” he announces, watching students come in the lecture hall at the bottom of the room.

You stare at his side profile and tilt your head a little to the side. “It’s okay Mark, I can type my notes today,” you reply and tap your laptop sitting on the table.

Mark glances at the device for a second before shrugging. “No. You relax. I got this.”

“Mark, really it’s okay. You don’t have to—“

He turns to you then and he catches you off guard slightly when he leans forward towards your direction. He’s smiling at you, never breaking eye contact.

  “I don’t have to. I’m doing it because I want to.”

-

Week three.

You can’t focus. And you’re not paying attention to the things you should be. You didn’t even know what the topic of today’s lecture was. The professor’s words seem to drown out of your head completely because you’re staring at the figure beside you writing notes down profusely. You watch Mark repeat his cycle; craning his head towards the front where the lecturer stood before dipping his head down again. There’s a set of pages for you and a set for him and it was only then that you realised how hard he had to work because now he was writing not just for himself but for you too. And no matter how many times you’ve fought to take your eyes off of him, you can’t. And you didn’t know why.

It’s only when Mark looks up some time after and turn his head to you that you’re forced to look away. But when you do, you’re sure he still caught you staring. You feel Mark’s eyes linger on you for a while and you wonder if there was anything on your face for him to do so. When he does resume to focusing his attention to the lecture, you exhale a breath you weren’t aware you were holding.

Lectures were always long but today felt painfully longer than usual. And you think it’s because of the fact that everything being taught didn’t seem to implant themselves in your brain. You couldn’t be more relieved when you see the word conclusion appear on the wide screen indicating the end of anatomy and physiology that felt like centuries later.

“Are you not tired?” You ask Mark curiously as you get up from your seat and prepare to leave.

“Mhm?” Mark hums in response, stuffing his belongings into his backpack. “I got eight hours of sleep last night so I’m good.”

You smile to yourself at his words and follow him when he begins to make his way out of the hall. “Well that’s good. But I meant like, taking down two sets of notes? You were literally on fire in there.”

Mark chuckles as he holds the door open for you, allowing you to exit first with him following closely behind. “No, not really. I’m okay.”

You raise a questioning brow. “Sure?”

Mark nods, “Very sure.”

You feel yourself flinch when Mark’s fingertips graze your shoulder lightly, tugging at the only strap of your backpack that clung onto you before finally letting it fall into his fingers and into his grip, swinging it over his free shoulder.

You blink at him before frowning, noticing the burning sensation of where his fingers were. “What are you doing?”

Mark only smiles sheepishly at you. “Walking you to your next class. Lead the way?”

You try to hide the smile that’s desperate to form on your lips as well as the heat climbing up on your cheeks as you stand your ground.

“Mark my legs are fine to walk. It’s my arm that’s broken, remember?” You say, waving your cast-wrapped arm.

“I know that,” Mark simply replies, amused.

You didn’t want Mark to walk you to wherever your next class was because you feel you’ve had enough of him for the day. Enough of distractions.

You’re reaching out for your bag as you insist, “So you don’t have to walk me anywhere—“

You don’t finish your sentence when he swerves his shoulder away, leaving your arms hanging midair. He smiles at you again and he shrugs when he does. “Just let me.”

“But why? There’s really no need—”

“Because I want to.”

So here you were, weaving in and out of the sea of students in the corridors as you reach for your destination, Mark walking right beside you. You hadn’t spoken to him since, not really knowing what to say when he was so insistent and didn’t want to take a no for an answer. And because you were at a loss for words. He doesn’t speak either. But continues to smile instead.

When you do reach a door similar to the one you had walked into for your first class but on the other end of the building, Mark doesn’t hand you your backpack. He takes it upon himself to move closer to you to put it on your shoulder, taking the time to ensure it sat there snugly. And all you could do was watch.

He steps back a second after and rummages in his own bag to retrieve something. His hands emerges then with the notes he had taken earlier and extends them out to you. “Notes for this week. I hope they don’t disappoint.”

You smile at him gratefully before reaching your good arm out to take them from him. “I’m sure they won’t. Thanks.”

Mark zips his bag closed and swings it over his shoulder. “I better get to class. I’ll see you around?”

You nod. “Of course.”

He’s about to turn on his heels to walk away when he abruptly stops and turns back to you again. “Oh— I almost forgot. Do you like coffee?”

It takes you a moment to answer, taken aback by the random question. “Uh, I think I like hot chocolate better.”

Mark nods firmly then and waves a hand before walking away for real this time. You blink at his retreating figure and when he turns a corner and disappears completely, your eyes fall to the pages in your hand. You raise it closer to your vision when you find a small green sticky note stuck to the corner of the first page. And for the first time ever, you feel your pulse skip a beat.

“Study hard! But not too hard!”

- 

Week four.

You never thought you’d see the day come where you would be excited for a Monday. You hated Mondays, truly. Mondays were long and tiring and you were always exhausted by the time the day finished and there would still be four days left of the week to hustle and bustle. But today was different because you were stepping on campus grounds with a smile on your face, not a frown, but a smile. The sun is shining so bright overhead and you can’t help but feel yet another bubble of happiness explode in your chest. You find it weird to be feeling this way at half eight in the morning because you would usually be walking into the building with a huff, contemplating and questioning your life decisions.

And you’re startled when you find Mark standing just by the door of the lecture hall you both shared every start of the week, because the way that your heart picks up its pace doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Mark is kicking at the floor lightly, glueing his eyes to the motions of his limbs and you stop dead in your tracks to just observe him for a while without his knowledge.

When Mark looks up to see you, he smiles like he usually does and you struggle to keep your insides calm because if you were being honest, he looked absolutely breathtaking. There’s something different about him today and when you let your eyes follow his movements as he walks towards you, that’s when you realise that for the first time he wasn’t hidden in his usual comfortable hoodies. Today, he’s wearing a white shirt half tucked into the material of his light blue jeans and finishing the look with a pair of clean white converse. His hair bounces with every step he takes and when your eyes fall onto his face, you can see his brown orbs radiate clearly under the stream of the sunlight in the absence of his glasses.

“Good morning,” he greets. “For you.”

It takes you a few seconds to fully register his words and when you finally do, you see a cup enveloped in his hand being offered to you.

“What’s this?” You ask confusedly, shifting your gaze from the cup to his face.

Mark smiles and forces the cup onto your left hand before leaning in slightly to tug at the strap of your bag just like how he did last week. Growing uncomfortable by the way your heart was hammering against your rib cage, you swiftly lower your shoulder so that Mark can take the object from you easier because you knew that the longer his fingers grazed your shoulder, the longer you were going to feel the knots in your stomach. You train your eyes to the floor just as Mark places your bag onto the opposite shoulder his own bag sat on.

“Hot chocolate,” Mark says, bringing your attention to the warm beverage now wrapped beneath your fingers. “Let’s get to class?”

So that’s why you were elated to face your Monday; you get to sit beside Mark and watch him diligently scribble perfect notes as he spares glances at you here and there accompanied with a small smile, as if to silently let you know that he was paying attention to you too. And contrary to last week, you didn’t even look away whenever he caught you already looking at him. You wanted to, but you simply couldn’t. And the way he takes the time to smile at you every now and then makes you feel it’s okay to do so, that it was okay to fixate your gaze on him while continued on with his task.

Your thumb fiddles with the cup of the hot chocolate that rests on your lap, thinking to yourself the possibility of falling for this boy. Because you could feel it. In between the hushed whispers in class, the unnecessary crinkle of his nose whenever you said a lousy joke and in the way your breath hitches whenever he got too close. You catch yourself falling in awe because four weeks wasn’t even that long to be harbouring feelings for someone you recalled to be a stranger who blended in well in the background just like you. But that’s when you realise that Mark never blended amongst the crowd like you. To you he was always a conscious presence, a presence you felt compelled towards but never really got the opportunity to uncover. And you think it’s because of his quiet demeanour that shielded many things underneath the comfort of his oversized hoodies that leaves you wondering and pondering what he could possibly be like.

You smile because you discover it for yourself. You get to experience what he’s really like. Mark is sweet. And gentle. And comfortable to be around with when he isn’t causing you to almost hyperventilate.

“Why are you smiling?” Mark asks in a whisper, leaning slightly towards you as the professor’s voice continues to boom throughout the hall.

You shake your head silently with a shrug of your shoulders. “Just because.”

Mark continues to stare at you (your lips), his pen in his hand and ponders for a few seconds.

“I like it.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you don’t get the chance to throw him a questioning look because he’s already turned away to resume on catching the professor’s words on paper.

Once the hour is up, Mark is walking you to your next class again, allowing his memory lead the way through the corridors. You traipse along with him, the now half empty beverage being the only thing you were carrying as he refused not to carry your belongings for you earlier. You drown into small conversation with him, relishing in the feeling of being calm for the first time since meeting Mark today. You laugh at something he says, your hearty laugh echoing in his ears that encourage him to laugh with you. He places your bag on your shoulder again, just like how he did last week when you both reach the familiar entrance of another hall.

“I put the notes in your bag,” Mark says as he runs a hand through his hair when it gets caught in his eyes. “Enjoy class.”

You smile gratefully at him though feeling sad on the inside with the thought of not seeing him anymore until next week. “Thanks. I really appreciate it. I’ll see you next Monday then?”

Mark is rocking on his toes and he averts his eyes from yours, training his gaze to the ground for a second or two before looking up at you again. He rests his hand on the strap of his bag while the other flies a hand to the nape of his neck, a gesture that reminds you of the very first day he wrote your material for you.

“Actually, I wanted to ask if you’re free this Friday?” Mark asks, a shy smile eminent on his lips.

You can’t help but smile at the sight, an inkling of hope sparking in you that he might be feeling the same way you did. Not wanting to assume so soon, you muster up the courage to clarify his intentions.

“Friday?”

Mark drops his hand from his neck and opts to stuff into the pocket of his jeans instead, his little bashful gestures tugging at your heartstrings.

“Yeah. There’s a café that recently opened nearby and I wanted to ask if you’d like to come and check it out with me? I heard they make really nice hot chocolates,” he explains and you take note of the tint of rose spreading across his cheeks.

You pretend to think about his proposal, not wanting to sound so eager when in reality, you’ve already made up your mind even before he even got to ask.

“I finish at six that day, is that okay?” You say after a while, feeling giddy and excited at the thought of spending your Friday evening with the cute boy in the white shirt.

Mark’s face lightens up and the grip on your cup involuntarily tightens because of how happy he looked with your reply.

“Of course. That’s great,” he says, grinning.

You fumble at each other’s phone then to exchange numbers with the promise of Mark texting you before he walks away to get to his own class. You enter your lecture hall not too long after and settle in your seat. When you come across the sight of Mark’s familiar handwriting on the pages that are neatly tucked away in your book, you curiously take it out of your bag and examine the newly jotted notes, growing more and more accustomed to your routine with him.

You don’t fail to notice yet another green sticky note plastered on the corner of the first page and you feel yourself completely crumble altogether.

“You have a really pretty smile.”

—

You’re huffing and puffing when you feel your legs grow weaker by the second. There’s a burning sensation coating your lungs but you don’t stop running. It was approaching thirty minutes past six and you were late. The thought of Mark waiting for you sent guilt running up your spine. You finally round a corner and find him waiting patiently outside the said café. He’s wearing a dark grey sweater today, hair slightly tousled because of the wind that had just blown, staring out into the street in front of him.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry I’m late,” you say in between your heavy breaths once you reach him, your approaching figure catching his attention. You’re leaning slightly forward and clutching your chest with your broken arm to catch your breath.

As if on instinct, Mark takes the book you’re holding on to so tightly in your hand that you had failed to stuff in your bag after rushing to get here when your last class ended later than usual. He proceeds to take your bag from you too, something that felt too natural now.

Mark only smiles at you when he takes your belongings and holds them as if they were his. “It’s alright. No worries. I didn’t wait much.”

You let out a huge breath. “How long have you been waiting?”

Thirty minutes. Mark shrugs his shoulders, “I just got here.”

Not buying his lie, you walk past him and enter the café first, the bell signalling customers had arrived. “Okay, I’m paying.”

Mark frowns just behind you. “No. I asked you to come. I’m paying.”

“Yes but I was late so I’m making up for it,” you retorted and find a table by the corner. You slip into the seat as Mark settles on the seat opposite you.

“Y/N—“

“Mark, I’m paying.”

Sighing dejectedly, Mark slumps his shoulders in defeat. You smile victoriously and take the time to appreciate the coziness of the place you had just entered. Dark wooden walls enclosed the area, round tables spread generously throughout the space with little light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, emitting a mellow glow of yellow all around. There’s soft jazz music playing in the background and you’re immediately enthralled with how warm it makes you feel on the inside. You weren’t one to opt for cafés usually but this one was definitely on the top of your non-existent list.

“I like it here already,” you perk up, attracting Mark’s attention who had been focused on the small menu set on the table.

Mark smiles in content. “Yeah? I’m glad.”

A few minutes of deciding after, Mark rises and walks to the counter to order and you take this opportunity to fix yourself up, patting your hair down from the frantic running earlier. It isn’t too long before you see Mark emerging to reach for his seat again. When he sits in front you, you recognise the way he isn’t wearing his glasses again and you’re reminded by the shining of his eyes. You feel conscious under his stare because he’s leaning on the table, resting on his crossed arms and you try to shy away from it by looking elsewhere.

“Rough day today?” He asks, concerned.

You momentarily close your eyes and release a sigh before opening them again. “Very. Today felt so long.”

“Yeah?” Mark asks as if to confirm, a habit of his you found somehow captivating. “Tell me about it.”

So you do. You ramble on about how each class seemed to dragged on forever and how your merciless professors are piling up work on top of work with no hesitation. You vent out all your frustrations because the stress was getting to you. But you don’t tell him about the excitement of meeting him that kept you moving forward to survive the horrible day. He didn’t need to know that one.

“Oh— I’m sorry, that must have been so boring to listen to,” you cut yourself off in the middle of another sentence when you start talking about the frustration of working in a group with students who weren’t as dedicated on putting in work as much as you were.

You expect to find Mark dozing off at your ramblings, but instead, you find him in the same position he was earlier, leant forward, smiling at you and nodding to every word that left your mouth.

“No it’s not. Keep talking,” he assures. You’re oblivious as to how he finds fascination in your voice.

You’re about to protest when the waitress comes to deliver what Mark had ordered earlier. She carefully sets two hot chocolates in front you followed by slices of blueberry and chocolate cheesecakes. You thank the waitress along with Mark and that’s when you notice she’s unmoving in her spot, taking a good look at Mark. She looks about your age, long black hair tied loosely past her shoulders. Mark is slower to notice her attention and you feel queasy when there’s an unfamiliar feeling forming in your gut.

You see Mark shift in his seat uncomfortably when he thanks the waitress again. She mumbles a quick welcome before walking away, cheeks tinted. You smile in amusement when Mark regains his composure, tugging at his sweater.

“I think she likes you,” you point out, stirring your hot chocolate with the small spoon.

Mark chuckles lightly and shakes his head as he follows what you’re doing. “Nah, probably not.”

“Her stare says otherwise,” you prod, surprised by the way your tone sounded rigid.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mark dismisses and looks at you as he wraps his slender fingers around his mug, nodding his head at your mug . “Try it and see if it lives up to your expectations.”

You divert you eyes to your hot chocolate before lifting the mug and letting your tastebuds become coated with the warm liquid. It brings you waves of calm and you savour the sweet taste, forgetting about the eventful day that sent you to unimaginable stress. When you let the mug down in its original place on the table, you hum in contentment.

“Okay that’s really good,” you say, using your tongue to remove the excess that had managed to stay on your top lip.

Mark follows suit and takes his first sip, agreeing with you when he gets a taste. You lose yourselves into your conversations then, swapping your cakes with each other in between so that you can both challenge who had the better cake. You learn about Mark’s family and his love for instruments and anything that had to do with music; something he said no one really knew about. He learns about you in return and your family that lives miles away in England. You tell him how much you miss them, especially your little brother who’s just three years of age and Mark empathises with you when he tells you his family lives in Canada. Both of you jump from one topic to another, discovering more similarities than you would’ve thought and challenging each other’s views on certain subjects that required a lot more thought. Regardless, every single conversation is smooth flowing and there’s an abundance of laughs in between transitions. You grow to like the crinkling of Mark’s nose when he laughs while Mark on the other hand, revels in how light your laugh makes him feel. And even though the place is filled with the distant chatters of other people sipping on their coffee, both of you take no notice of them, heavily engaged into whatever you were talking about.

You feel a newly uncovered connection with Mark and you wonder if he felt the same way.

It’s a little past nine when you both call it a night and rise from the table you both had grown comfortable in. You walk towards the counter with the intent to pay only to be notified that everything has been paid for already. You turn to raise a questioning brow at Mark who only smiles sheepishly at you.

“I told you I’d pay,” you say once you exit the cozy café.

“No. I asked you to come so it’s only right that I pay,” Mark defends. “Besides, it’s an excuse for me to see you again. You can treat me next time.”

You grow silent at his reply and internally surrender when his words sends your heart in a frenzy. Mark walks you to your apartment situated ten minutes away from where your university was. It’s as if you two never the left the café because you’re still laughing during your conversations even at the cringeworthy puns Mark makes every chance he got. You can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed this much, only ever basking in the feeling of longing you had for your family back home. You weren’t the type to make friends either, hence spending the majority of your time by yourself. However being with Mark felt like a breath of fresh air. He made interacting feel easier which was a surprise to you because it’s always been something you’ve struggled with.

You reach your apartment building just as you finish chuckling at something he said. He hands you your book and the bag he had claimed before leaving the café earlier.

“Thanks for today, I had a lot of fun,” you say genuinely, adjusting your bag with your good hand.

Stuffing his hands into the pocket of his jeans, Mark smiles with a nod. “Me too. I’ll see you Monday?”

You nod carefully and you take this as your queue to head inside but the way Mark is smiling at you endearingly, eyes forming crescent moons screams at your insides to do something else. All the rationality in your system seem to fly out the window when you’re taking a step towards him, leaning on your toes to reach up and plant a quick kiss on his cheek. You’re embarrassed by your actions but not as embarrassed as Mark who’s blushing like mad and training his eyes to the ground in vain attempts of hiding the heat that’s spreading across his face.

“See you on Monday,” you say with a satisfied smile.

—

Week five.

Five weeks with a cast around your arm and you were living completely fine with it. Tasks didn’t bother you anymore, applying your own know-how’s on how to handle such chores. The only thing bothered you was when the skin under the hard material itched so bad you could literally only writhe your fingers in hopes of consoling yourself until you realise it doesn’t work and silently hope for the discomfort to end instead. Mark texts you right after you part from him that Friday night. Even thought it was a mere good night, sleep well it was more than enough for you to grin like an idiot as you reread the message over and over again. You furtively dread seeing him today as the sun rises, indicating another start to your work after burying yourself in work during the weekend, never leaving your room, because you remember that risky kiss you had impulsively planted on his cheek. You prepare yourself for the worst; Mark avoiding you and hiding himself because of what you did. But mentally argue with yourself; he texted you that night so that might mean you didn’t scare him away completely. Regardless, you silently wish you hadn’t been so irrational and let your emotions take over.

You walk in the building, half hoping to see Mark wait for you by the door you entered together for the past few weeks now. And you know you’re in deep trouble because you’re already expecting to see him first thing on a Monday morning; an unconscious confirmation of your desire to spend at least an hour with him.

You pick up the way your muscles relax unintentionally when you catch sight of him already looking towards your direction with his usual smile. He’s wearing his glasses today and the sight of his round specs make you realise you kind of missed them. When you reach him, he extends out the familiar cup of hot chocolate in his hand and extends his other free hand in place for your bag. You roll your eyes playfully, butterflies reeling in your stomach as you trade.

“I really don’t understand why you have to carry my bag. I’m perfectly able for that task,” you say when you’re hopping along the stairs of the hall, careful enough not to spill your beverage.

Mark chuckles behind you and follows you carefully as you shuffle into your usual row. “And I don’t understand why you protest so much. I told you before, I’m doing it because I want to.”

You sit yourself on the chair after you unfold it from its original state and give Mark an inquiring look. Mark follows suit and settles both of your bags below where he usually places them. “Why? Do you not like me doing it?”

You purse your lips as you try not to melt. He’s genuine with his question, feeling worried you might have developed a distaste for his actions. You shake your head, wondering if you wanted to be one hundred percent transparent so early in the day. But Mark is asking you with his eyes and you feel the urge to show an eighth of how you’ve been feeling.

“It’s not that,” you start. “It’s just I don’t want to get used to it and this,” you say as you raise the hot chocolate within his view. He glances at it and shifts his gaze onto you almost immediately, encouraging you to continue with a nod. “My cast comes off in a week Mark, and I don’t want myself to expect you doing these still when it does because I’m slowly growing used to all of this.”

Mark blinks a couple of times and you’re instantly regretting being so honest. You take a sip from your cup to comfort yourself in the sweet taste and to distract yourself from the words you had just let go of. You avoid Mark’s eyes which you can’t read at the moment.

“You really think I’m doing all of this because of your cast?”

You snap your head towards his direction. “Aren’t you? And because of guilt maybe?”

He stays silent after and you take the opportunity to emphasise your opinion.

“I’ve already told you it’s okay. My broken arm wasn’t anybody’s fault and that there’s nothing to be sorry for—“

“I know that. And I took your word for it,” Mark interrupts, his eyebrows furrowing in the middle, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. “Which is why I kept telling you that I’m not doing it out of anything— not out of guilt, not out of obligation. But because I simply want to.” Mark inhales a breath and runs a hand through his hair.

“And I’m going to keep doing it for you, your arm broken or not.”

And that’s it. You finally melt. And the the crescent of his smiling eyes with the emergence of his chiseled cheekbones when he smiles doesn’t help the butterflies in your stomach calm their whimsical wings, tickling you ever so lightly.

Mark doesn’t speak anymore as the class begins and you’re left alone with your haywire thoughts. And you grow even more embarrassed for the rest of the day when you read your note for the day, presenting itself in the usual green sticky note attached to your notes.

“You look really cute when you’re flustered.”

-

In the middle of the week, you find yourself seated on a bench overlooking the wide green football pitch as you skim over Mark’s notes, revising the topic you hadn’t paid much attention to during the actual lecture. It’s one in the afternoon which meant that you had an hour for lunch so here you were, finding solace in the silence under the shade of a tree to protect yourself from the sun. You trace your fingers under the ink as you read every bullet point, occasionally looking up to stare into the distance to mentally repeat what you’ve just read to check how immersed you were in your study.

You feel your phone vibrate just beside you and you reach for it, eyes unwavering from the page. You read one more sentence before switching your attention to your phone. Mark’s name displays on the screen, indicating a new message from him.

Did you have lunch yet?

Your thumbs tap on your device in a fluid manner hitting the send button not too long after to tell him no and that you weren’t feeling hungry. You don’t get a reply within the time frame that Mark usually replies in and so you set your phone back on the bench, eyes travelling to your notes once again. A few minutes later, a pair of shoes appears just in front of you and slowly, you peel your eyes away from Mark’s handwriting to see who your company was.

Mark is smiling down at you just as he leans down slightly to settle a brown paper bag just on the unoccupied space of the bench beside you. You smile in return, happy at the sight of him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask curiously when he stands back up.

Mark is rocking back and forwards on his toes again. “I was walking by and I saw you. Figured I’d say hi.”

“Well, hello,” you answer playfully.

Mark grins bashfully, running a hand through his hair. “I actually have class now so I have to go.”

“So you came to actually say bye,” you tease, a playful eyebrow raised as you cross your arms across your chest.

“Trust me I don’t want to say bye but I have to get this degree,” he says, playing along with you.

You chuckle and he mirrors your actions. “Alright,” you say and wave a hand. He turns on his heels then and leave you alone again in your silence. When he’s no longer in view, your eyes fall to the brown bag he had placed before you earlier. You pick it up and rip the familiar green sticky note off of the thin material of the bag, finding Mark’s writing etched on it.

“Please don’t skip your meals ㅠ ㅠ Studying is good but not when you’re missing food.”

You smile to yourself and find a sandwich hidden inside the bag with a bottle of orange juice. A chuckle escapes your mouth when you pick up yet another sticky note that’s plastered on the sandwich.

“This isn’t much but it’ll do for now. We’ll get proper food this Friday. If you’re up for it.”

Mark was sweet. As always.

—

It’s Friday. And you’re walking alongside Mark along the streets of the city, allowing your eyes wander all around the buildings you happen to pass by as you savour the taste of the vanilla ice cream sitting perfectly on your cone. Mark upheld his suggestion in taking you out for dinner once again and after losing yet another debate on who pays for the meal, you suggested to buy him ice cream instead, insisting until he finally caved in and gave you what you wanted. There’s a smile playing on your lips when you see Mark indulge in his watermelon flavoured ice cream. He wasn’t carrying your usual backpack today. Instead, he slung your small handbag across his shoulders and let it rest slightly above his hip.

“So where would you like to go next week?” Mark suddenly asks after licking his dessert.

“Next week?” You ask inquisitively.

Mark nods, eyes ahead. “Is there anything you’re craving?”

You narrow your eyes at his side view, not really sure if you wanted to ask the question burning in your mind for the longest time. But you decide against it and decide to go along with his suggestions instead.

“Not that I can think of, no,” you simply reply.

Mark purses his lips in thought. “Hm. How about burgers? Pizza? Pasta?”

You take another lick off your ice cream as you consider the variety of food mentioned. “Burgers sound good.”

Mark nods proudly, biting into his cone. “Burgers it is then. I’ll look for good places around.”

You chuckle when he gets some ice cream on his nose and you don’t for one second hesitate to reach out and wipe it away with the tissue in your free hand. He merely watches your moves and blink right after you succeed in wiping his face clean. “Is this food hunt a weekly thing now?”

You don’t notice Mark stiffen and regain his composure as he trails his eyes ahead, obviously taken aback by your touch because as far as he could remember, he’d always been the one on the giving end, except for that one kiss you had given him. He clears his throat then and proceeds on focusing on his dessert to distract himself from the warmth spreading across his cheeks.

“It could be. If you want,” he says.

You nudge his side playfully, “It could be if you’d let me pay.”

Mark quirks a smile. “I let you pay earlier didn’t I?”

You roll your eyes playfully at him, causing him to emit another chuckle. “That was dessert. I mean like a proper meal.”

Mark takes a step closer to you unknowingly. “I’m the one asking you out on dates. So it’s on me.”

Your head whizzes towards his direction and an eyebrow shoots up immediately. There were times you’d wonder if the last Friday and today were considered as dates. But you never dwelled on it and opted to treat them as two friends hanging out and checking out cozy places but now that Mark has said it himself, a new set of questions seeped into your mind.

“Dates?”

Munching on the last bit of his cone, Mark nods with a smile, slightly amused at your incredulous face. He stuffs his hand in his pocket and meet your eyes. “Dates. What have you been thinking all this time?”

You continue to blink at him, unmoving, not realising you’ve stopped walking, people weaving around you. Mark stops with you and waits for your reply.

“I- I don’t know,” you say truthfully. “I thought we were just grabbing food together.”

Mark chuckles lowly and lifts a hand to rub the nape of his neck, a shy smile forming on his lips. “I’m sorry. I was wrong on my part. I didn’t make myself clear enough, did I?”

Your mouth is now hanging slightly open.

“Okay,” Mark says when he sees you still confused. “I want to take you out on a date next week. Let’s get some burgers?”

You finally snap out of your trance when a stranger’s shoulder bumps into yours, making you lose your balance slightly. Mark is quick to reach out to you and grab a hold of your arms to stabilise you, his touch sending surges of electricity through the fabric of your sweater.

You try to laugh off your embarrassing faces just now as you begin to walk ahead, wiping your hand that had been dripped on by your melting ice cream. “We’re not even dating,” you say in a light tone in attempts to hide the erratic beating of your heart.

Mark walks until he’s beside you, close enough that his shoulder touches with yours.

“Yeah? Maybe we should start dating then.”

—

Week six.

Mark’s words eat at you the whole weekend that passes and it isn’t helping that he’s smiling at you more often now, his nose crinkling and his eyes disappearing. Nevertheless, you can’t shrug off the light weight settling in your chest whenever he momentarily shifts his eyes from the notes he’s writing to you only for his lips to curl upwards into a small smile. There’s another hot chocolate sitting at your desk and you feel it tastes even sweeter today. When Mark brings you to your next class, his gaze lingers on you a little longer and you’re tempted to cower away so that he doesn’t see you becoming flustered because his eyes spoke too much and it was enough to terrify you; you feel yourself losing to him. His notes are in your hands and the small green in the corner catches your eye immediately. He doesn’t leave though, staring at you, silently encouraging you to read what he had written for you today.

Go on a date with me?

And when you look back up at him, he’s just smiling, hands buried deep within his pockets and balancing his weight back and forth his toes.

Lunch times were no longer spent on your own because Mark made an effort to cross from his building which was all the way on the other end of the campus to yours just so he could eat with and talk to you. It’s Thursday and you’re watching him curiously as he twiddles with the marker in between his fingers, twirling it skilfully, another habit of his you had picked up whenever he paused from writing. Your casted arm is laid on the table just below him. He had asked you earlier if he could write on it since it would be coming off this weekend and you agreed without hesitation, giddy at the thought of having a part of Mark with you.

When you happen to glance at the time on your phone, you reluctantly take your arm off of the table, Mark following your every move.

“I’ve class. I have to go,” you say simply as you gather your things. “Still can’t decide what to write?”

Mark shakes his head and gets up from his chair when you do, stuffing the last of your things into your bag and grabbing it to swing on his shoulder but just as he’s about to do so, you grab his arm and stop and him.

“You stay here. I can walk to class on my own,” you assure him.

“Are we going to do this again? I want—“

You halt his words with a firm nod of your head, your lips quirking up into a smile. “I know that.” A soft chuckle leaves your lips as you reach out and plant a pink sticky note on his forehead.

Mark stares at you on confusion, his face adorable.

“I’ll see you this Friday then?” You say with a wink before walking away to leave.

Mark watches you before raising his hand to pluck the sticky note off his forehead.

I would love to go on date with you.

—

Mark surprises you once again when he holds out a bouquet of fresh sunflowers to you hiding behind a bashful smile shielded with the crescent moon of his eyes and cheekbones as prominent as ever. There’s heat creeping up on your cheeks as you take the flowers from him.

“Sunflowers?” You ask curiously, taking in the beauty of each one. The sight of the bright yellow alone is enough to make you happy from the inside.

Mark smiles shyly and runs a hand through his hair. “Umm,” he starts, obviously hesitating. You take your eyes away from the flowers and encourage him to continue with a nod of your head and a smile on your lips. “It’s going to sound so cheesy but... you remind me of sunflowers, that’s why.”

You can’t help the smile on your face from reaching one ear to the other, melting slowly by his sheepish confession. “It’s not cheesy, Mark. It’s sweet.”

Mark grins, his eyes smiling along.

“And thank you, I love them.”

And just like the previous Fridays, you block the whole world out as you and Mark talk about life, memories, people and the world. You get a better understanding of Mark and you let yourself open up to him knowing it was exactly that he wanted you to do. And it feels light. It feels weightless. Exposing your worries, concerns and dreams with Mark doesn’t feel hard to do because you feel your secrets are safe with him. You feel safe with him. Every word that leaves your mouth registers in Mark’s mind without missing a syllable and he makes a vow never to forget a single one because if anything, you sharing everything that was kept under your façade was all he’s ever wanted you to do. So that you don’t have to carry the burden alone. So that you didn’t feel alone. And Mark does his best to make you feel like you aren’t, in the way he responds to you, in the way he never takes his eyes off of you and in the way he reaches out to wrap your hand under his when the words get caught in your throat.

Mark doesn’t let go of your hand the whole walk home. You expected to feel your heart jump right out of your chest the moment he took your hand in his and effortlessly intertwine his fingers in between yours, but instead, the moment felt all too natural, and you felt calm, comfortable even. Mark feels warm and you instinctively lean closer to him when a gush of wind blows and you’re oblivious to the way he smiles above you when you do.

“Today was something else,” you mumble when you reach a familiar building.

Mark smiles at you, not ready to let go of your hand just yet, your bouquet of flowers nestling in his other arm, “Yeah. It was.”

Mark is rubbing circles with his thumb on the back of your hand and you momentarily wish that you could stay like this for a little longer. “Thank you for today. It was the best first date I could ever ask for.”

“Yeah? I’m glad. I had an amazing time too,” Mark replies, cheekbones evident on his chiselled face. “I always do, with you.”

You frown at him as an attempt to mask your frustration away. This boy was definitely something. “Right. Well, I should get going. Thank you for bringing me home.”

Mark nods but his hand remains unmoving in yours and you’re chuckling when you feel him give your hand a squeeze. Instead of prying his hold off you, you close the gap between the both of you and lean on your toes to plant a soft peck on his cheek. When you pull away with a smile, his grip on your hand loosen then and you take this opportunity to take your hand away along with the sunflowers. He’s blinking at you, taken aback by your actions just like the very first time you boldly kissed him.

“Good night, Mark,” you mumble bashfully and turn on your heels to walk away. It isn’t long before he’s calling your name again.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Would it be okay.. If I go to the hospital with you tomorrow?”

You smile gives your answer away even before you could utter a reply.

“I’d love that.”

—

“You never got to write on my cast,” you point out as you exit the hospital. You’re flailing your right arm around slightly, trying to get used to the sensation you didn’t feel for six weeks.

You feel Mark shrug beside you, “That’s okay. I still have plenty of sticky notes left.”

This makes you laugh and you shake your head at him. “Whatever you say.”

It isn’t long before Mark finds your right hand and laces it with his left. “It feels nice to be holding this hand.”

You raise a playful brow. “So my left one isn’t as nice?”

Mark chuckles and gives your hand a squeeze. “I’m just saying I’m going to be doing this much more often.”

You challenge him, scooting closer, “Because?”

Mark doesn’t respond, caught in between your playful question. The sun is shining up so high in the sky and there are no clouds present to intervene with the bright light. There’s a bubble of happiness bursting in his chest and he smiles ahead, growing all too familiar with the sensation.

“I guess this is the part where I confess, right?”

You whip your head towards him in a heartbeat. “What?”

Mark is trying not to notice your furrowed eyebrows as he continues to stare ahead. “You know, I think it was a good thing I broke your arm.”

You blink at him, confused. “What?”

Mark cranes his neck towards you to look at you. “Because it finally gave me a reason to talk to you.”

“Okay I’m confused,” you say defeated, halting in your steps and unlatching your hand from his. You cross your arms across your chest and wait for him to explain.

Mark chuckles at your actions and you could almost guess what he’s about to do next when you see a bashful smile playing on his lips; stuffing one hand into the pocket of his jeans and the other flies up to rub the nape of his neck.

“Okay, here goes nothing,” Mark starts. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you Y/N ever since... Probably ever since the first time I saw you walk through our anatomy and physiology lectures which was what? Like the start of this year right? And I know I should have just manned up and talked to you right there and then but I couldn’t bring myself to. I think I got scared and.. nervous.” 

He pauses as he laughs awkwardly, recalling all the times he’d watch you carefully sit down in your favourite seat of the lecture hall. 

“I was really really curious about you, not in a creepy way, trust me. I just really wanted to know you but I didn’t know how. It just so happened that I was late for class one day and ended up knocking you down with my bike.”

“So breaking my arm was a ploy to talk to me?”

“Y/N that’s not what I meant, I—“

You laugh at his reaction, heart fluttering at his cute confession. Mark still looks flustered and he’s averting his eyes everywhere but you and you find him even more endearing then. That’s when you take a step closer and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Well then, I thank you for being late to class that day,” you whisper. “The past six weeks have been the easiest for me despite the broken arm.” You smile to yourself when you feel Mark’s arms wrap around your waist. “And I guess this is the part I confess too? I like you too, Mark.”

Mark doesn’t say anything. Instead, he tightens his arms around you and buries his head into the crook of your neck.

—

Week seven. 

Over the week, your texts and calls with Mark become more frequent and he no longer waits until Friday to take you out on dates, managing to squeeze in picnic dates in between free periods and staying back after lectures to study together in the library. If Mark was sweet before the confession, he was even sweeter after telling you how he felt about you.

I really really like you.

You look really pretty today.

Well— you always do.

But yeah, I can’t believe you like me too?

Like wow.

You give Mark an incredulous look when your eyes fall onto the set of green sticky notes he had plastered on your book in a span of two minutes. How could you even manage to study when he was being like this? Mark only smiles at you innocently before training his eyes onto his book again. Shaking your head in disapproval (even though you adored each one of his quick notes), you resume on typing your half finished essay. Not even ten minutes into your work, you feel Mark scurry to write another note on his small pad. Ten seconds later, he sticks it right on the screen of your laptop, right where you can see it straight away.

Scratch that. You’re beautiful. I hope you know that.

—

“I remember that one time, I dropped my pencil case in the middle of the corridor and you picked it up for me as you were passing by,” Mark says, adjusting your bag on his shoulder. “And even then, I couldn’t say anything to you.”

You laugh and play with the stem of the sunflower in your hand, one that Mark had given you after meeting you when your lectures ended. “But why? Am I that intimidating?”

“No,” Mark says. “I told you, I was just always so nervous around you.”

You laugh playfully and nudge his shoulder. “Are you still nervous now?”

Mark smiles and stops for a moment, “You have no idea.”

You sigh exasperatedly turning your whole body to face him. “Mark you’re making me flustered. Stop that,” finally expressing a fraction of how he really made you feel. 

“Stop what?” Mark teases.

“That thing you do. I don’t know what it’s called,” you say with hand motions. “Did you know you have a way with words?”

Mark shakes his head, feigning innocence, enjoying the sight of the pink shade on your cheeks. “That’s a first. But maybe because I’m with you?”

You close your eyes briefly to collect yourself because right now you were absolutely melting and it didn’t look like Mark was going to stop anytime soon. “You’re enjoying this too much aren’t you?”

Mark shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him as you hold the sunflower in front of him. This was the fourth sunflower of the week and although you loved every single one, you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why sunflowers? I know you said they remind you of me, but I want to know how.”

Mark shifts his gaze on the yellow flower before fixating his gaze on you, eyes smiling.

“Sunflowers make me happy whenever I see them. And that’s exactly how I feel when I see you,” Mark replies straightforwardly, as if it was the one thing he was most sure about in the whole world.

You silently regret asking because you weren’t prepared for what he was actually about to say. You should know by now; Mark always always had a way with his words.

“Cheesy right?” Mark chuckles, mentally reprimanding himself for being so smitten by you to the point where this side of him shows involuntarily.

You shake your head, giving him a smile.

“It’s not cheesy, Mark. It’s sweet.”

[atths--twice]

Ahhh... here we are at another favorite of mine. I apologize in advance, but this one is a bit rough, as you may be able to tell by the gif. However, it is a pain that needs to be  dealt with and discussed. I hope you enjoy it. 

Chapter Seventeen 

Therapeutic Thanksgiving 

Scully has an appointment with Doctor Kosseff and they discuss many things that need to be brought to light. Guidance and care from her Mom also help to ease a broken heart. 

November 2015

To say that Scully enjoyed therapy with Doctor Kosseff would be somewhat misleading. She did like the feeling of the constant pressure inside her abating a bit when she left the office. She did not like the amount of crying she had done, the headaches she had suffered, and the past hurts that were dusted off and re-examined. It hurt so much sometimes, she wanted to leave and never come back.

Since bumping into her at the coffee shop in June, Scully had only seen Doctor Kosseff seven different times. Work got in the way, and while she knew her own self-care was important, she was pulled into cases, and unable to get away. Doctor Kosseff was understanding, and Scully repeatedly expressed her thanks.

Her first session was a train wreck. She broke down and cried for most of the hour. Doctor Kosseff remained silent and let her ramble and cry, her words tumbling over each other, not even sure what she was saying, only remembering the sobs. As Scully took the tissues handed to her, Doctor Kosseff smiled and sighed before nodding at her.

Her next session was better. The conversation was more structured, and Doctor Kosseff insisted Scully call her Karen. Scully looked at her and tried to respond with some coherent explanation of why that seemed wrong, but she was unable to do anything but nod.

“We may not have seen each other in a while, Dana,” Karen said with a smile. “But we go way back, and that counts for something.” She smiled, and again Scully felt tears in her eyes.

The fourth session though, that one was rough. Crying seemed to be a normal occurrence as soon as she sat on the couch in the office, but that day was worse, as if something was infecting her and causing her to behave unlike herself. Choking on her tears she began to cry out her worries for Mulder.

“I know he’s a grown man, and more than capable of caring for himself, but I’m worried about him. Is he sleeping? Taking his medication? He said he’s seeing a therapist and he’s sending emails, but how is he really? I miss him so much,” she whispered wiping at her eyes. “It’s like I’ve lost part of myself.”

Karen handed her the tissues and Scully laughed bitterly, dabbing her eyes and blowing her nose. “I’m an independent woman, I’ve always prided myself on that, but … I need him, and all these years later, it terrifies me,” she said looking at Karen and shaking her head. Karen smiled and waited for her to continue, but no words were forthcoming.

“Does it terrify you because you don’t want to live without him or you’re worried you don’t know how?” Karen asked quietly.

Scully shook her head, wiping at her eyes again. “It isn’t that. I know I can live without him, and no I don’t want to live without him. I want to be with him. But what terrifies me are the lengths I will go to, to do so. Two years I stayed and felt like I was drowning at times, but I stayed because … I love him. I know him and I felt that if I could have just done more, I could have helped. If I had seen it earlier or demanded differently …” She shook her head, tears falling again. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, taking deep breaths to calm down.

“Dana, I know you feel this is your fault, that you could have stopped it from happening,” Karen said in her soft calm voice. “But could you have done anything? Really done anything? As you say, you know Fox better than anyone. Could you have changed him or done anything to fix the situation at the time?”

Scully stared at her and wanted to say of course she could, she should have done something. This was her fault. She was the one who left. Karen’s eyes had stopped her from speaking and forced her to look down, the openness she saw in them too much for her at that moment.

“Dana, I’d like you to do something for me when you leave here today,” Karen said kindly, writing something on her notepad. “When you leave, I want you to think of the times when you think saying something or fighting with Fox would have changed the outcome of where you are now. I’d like you to do that before our next meeting.”

Scully sat at home that night, writing out all the times she could think of when Mulder had not come to bed, had pushed her past the point of anger, when he had stayed closed up in his office and shut her out. There were many instances, and seeing them there in black and white hurt in a different way than before.

She ticked off each one as she imagined a different outcome, a way it would have changed if she had barged in the office, turned off the WiFi, or demanded he sit down and listen to her. None of those times would have resulted in a change. She knew that, but she had needed to see it laid out before her to understand it completely. She shook her head as she cried, knowing once again that this, being apart, was the only decision that was right, even if it made her heart ache.

She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. She knew it was not within her ability to change the outcome, but she had taken it upon herself and that was not fair. They were both to blame, as they had not communicated how they felt. God, they were so bad at it sometimes. Both of them held back and yet expected the other to be forthcoming. After so many years together, it would seem they would have this shit figured out, but no. Jesus Christ …

Knowing what the problem was, she felt that going back to see Karen would not help. She needed to talk to Mulder, but right now that was not going to happen. Time was all she needed, she thought with a sigh and a shake of her head.

On the agreed upon appointment time though, she was there, waiting to speak to Karen and working on moving forward. They discussed Mulder again, the outcomes she knew she could not change, and then Karen brought up the medication Scully had prescribed for him. Not until Karen pointed it out to her did Scully consider the extent of the side effects he could have been suffering. The lack of sex drive, or ability to even have sex, had not been something that was in the forefront of thought when she had gotten him the medication.

Again, she left the office not wanting to go back, her embarrassment and anger at herself simmering at the surface. Angry that she had not seen the forest for the trees, focusing on one area and missing the rest. She wanted to help his depression and other aspects were a second thought. She paced around her apartment, wanting to call Mulder, and apologize for her own neglect when it came to his care.

Thinking back to the fact that they had still been having sex, up to a certain point, it meant he must have forgone his medication. Her anger and confusion with him made sense now that she figured he was not remaining steady with taking his pills. She failed him, again. Curling up in bed, she apologized to him repeatedly, wishing he could hear her.

That was a couple of weeks ago and today, the day before Thanksgiving, she was ready to start her eighth session, finally feeling a bit more comfortable.

“Dana,” Karen said, smiling at her as she came into the waiting room, shaking Scully’s hand as she always did before ushering her into the office. “How are you?”

“Fine. I’m good. Work is busy, as I’m sure yours is at this time of year. Everyone seems to have more problems around the holidays,” Scully said with a small laugh. Karen smiled and nodded.

“Yes, it’s usually busy this time of year. Do you have holiday plans?”

“I’m spending it with my mother this year. Actually heading there after our session,” Scully said and Karen nodded with a smile.

“How are other things? Have you spoken to Fox? Or kept to the emails and texts between you?” Karen asked with a glance at Scully.

“Just the emails and texts. Though it’s been further between them at times.”

Karen smiled at her and made some notes before she looked up again. She exhaled and kept eye contact with Scully, gauging her, it seemed. Scully shifted in her seat and took a deep breath. She licked her lips and closed her eyes before looking up at Karen, knowing this was going to hurt.

“I had a dream last night. About William,” she said quietly. Karen nodded, having heard about him before, and Scully closed her eyes again. “We were walking down the street, and I could feel his hand in mine. It was so small, I could feel all the bones as I ran my thumb across the top of his hand. Then it was bigger and he was there but pulled away from me. I tried to reach for him, to grab for his fingers, but I couldn’t find him. I woke up crying, trying to grab for something that wasn’t there.” She opened her eyes, tears welling inside them before they spilled over, and she wiped them away.

“It’s been fourteen years and I know ... I know that he’s ... he has a family, parents who love him and care for him,” Scully said quietly, tears flowing freely from her eyes. “I have to hope he is okay, anyway. My head knows that, but my heart is not always so accommodating. I still can’t help but wonder ... or worry if he has ever remembered me and I wasn’t there. Did he cry for me those first few nights after he left? Did they know he liked to be sung to and rocked a certain way? Was he ... was he happy? I know, as a doctor and as a scientist, that he would have no memories of me, he was too young. But ... what if … what if he woke up not knowing why he was dreaming of someone he didn’t know, but he felt scared and alone?”

She stopped talking and sobbed into her hands, thinking of William, and the weight of him in her arms. She remembered how she would hold him and breathe in his baby smell, the happiness of finally being a mother had been so overwhelming. His rosy cheeks and soft downy head were the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

Letting him go, knowing it was for his protection, was the hardest decision she ever had to make, and she did it alone. Mulder did not even get a chance to weigh in and voice his opinion or the possibility of a different plan. She had agonized, cried, and screamed over the decision she made. It was she who crumbled to the ground when William was taken from her, her heart that shattered when her baby, the only one she would ever have, was given a better chance of survival away from her. It was she and her mother who clung to one another in the days after he was gone. No Mulder to mourn with her, hold her, or simply grab them both and run, never looking back.

Her sobs began to subside, although not by much. She felt the box of tissues being softly placed on her lap and it caused her to cry more. Taking one from the box, she dabbed at her eyes and wiped her face, then took some deep breaths. She still cried, but her loud and aching sobs had seemed to slow. She blew her nose and took more tissues out to again wipe her face. Keeping her head bowed, she simply sat and waited.

“Dana,” Karen said barely above a whisper. “What does Fox say when you discuss these feelings with him?” Scully shook her head, unable to speak. “Do you not discuss William? Or how you felt during that time of your life?”

Taking a shuddering breath, Scully shook her head again. “It ... it’s sort of an unwritten understanding, so to speak. We ... we talk about William in a roundabout way, but rarely directly, if at all. It hurts to talk about it, and I don’t want to cause Mulder that hurt.”

“Fox?” Karen asked, her tone sharper than Scully had ever heard it. She raised her head and looked at her, finding her face serious and somewhat hard. “Why is your worry for him, when you are affected this way?”

“He wasn’t there. It wasn’t his choice and ... and he ... he missed everything. I took that away from him, his chance at fatherhood. If ... if we talk about what we could have done or how it may have been, it would dredge up too much ... and,” Scully said, shaking her head, remembering the times they had gotten close to having the talk and the look on Mulder’s face. The pain she saw, the anguish. She hated seeing him that way, and eventually not discussing it had been easier.

“Dana, sometimes the only way to move forward is to dump out the past and wade through it. Yes, it may most definitely be painful, but leaving it tucked away and hidden ...” Karen shook her head and looked at Scully. “Keep it hidden, and it festers and rots. It becomes a poison inside that strangles you and stunts your growth. Don’t let this continue to be a poison in your life.”

_____________________

Scully left the office a while later, and walked to her car, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to lay down and sleep. She got in and sat down, closing and locking the door before leaning her head against the headrest, closing her eyes, and sighing.

Exhausted, no, it was not the right word to describe how she felt. She felt boneless like her body was a heavy pile of goo, and it would remain that way forever. Everything ached and she thought never leaving the car sounded like a wonderful idea. She leaned forward and put her head on the steering wheel, her eyes still closed.

You can’t stay here, Dana. You need to get moving, she thought. Heaving a huge sigh, she turned on the car and begin the drive to her mother’s house. She was looking forward to staying with her for the holiday weekend. Some time off work, catching up with her mom, and seeing some old friends sounded wonderful. Right now though, she simply wanted to crawl in bed and sleep for the rest of the day.

Pulling into her mother’s driveway, she sat for a few minutes, collecting her strength, waiting for her body to become less goo-like. Taking a breath, she opened the door, took her overnight bag out of the backseat, and walked up to the front door. She used her key and called out to her mother she was there.

“Dana!” her mother said, coming out of the kitchen wearing an apron and wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “You’re early! I was thinking it would be a couple hours more before you got here.” She smiled at her and pulled her in for a tight hug.

“Hey, Mom,” Scully said, returning the hug and holding on longer than usual. Her mother looked her in the eyes as she put a hand to her face.

“Rough session?” her mother asked softly. Scully nodded and sighed. Her mother also sighed and brushed her thumb across Scully’s cheek. “Well, would mixing up ingredients for pies help you at all?” Scully laughed out a sob and nodded. Her mother patted her cheek and turned to head back to the kitchen. Scully set her bag down on the couch and followed her.

For the next couple of hours, they worked together, mixing and baking pies, cutting vegetables for the next day, and setting the table. Spending time with her mother helped her feel better, but she could feel tears threatening to fall at any time. When the last chore was finished, her mother put the kettle on, grabbed mugs and tea bags, and took off her apron.

Once the kettle whistled, and the tea was made, she reached for Scully’s hand, looking at her with her kind eyes. That was all it took for Scully’s tears to begin. She told her mother of the session that day, of her dream and the discussion that had followed. Sure she had cried herself dry, she was surprised by the amount of tears she still had left. Her mother kept her hand on hers and rubbed her arm.

Scully put her head on the table and her mother moved closer to stroke her hair and speak words of comfort. Scully cried and cried, letting her mother’s love and calmness wash over her. When she had no tears left, she sat trying to calm her sobs. Her mother rested her head against her and told her how much she loved her, how proud she was of her, making Scully cry again.

Her mother helped her to her feet and pulled her in for a hug. “Dana, I know how hard this is for you, how hard it was. I remember.” Scully held her tight and cried softly. “You just go ahead and cry, honey.”

They stood there for a few minutes before Scully pulled back and stared at her mother. Her soft hands were on her cheeks, wiping her tears as she had when past heartbreaks had felt so big. Those had been nothing compared to this pain, but the comfort she felt gave her strength.

Her mother gave her a small smile and grasped her hand, pulling her upstairs to the master bedroom. Scully stood by the bed and heard the water running in the tub. She closed her eyes and sat on the bed, waiting for her mother to come as she knew she would.

She felt a brush in her hair and she sighed, more tears slipping out, as her mother softly brushed her hair. Her shoes were slipped off, her sweater slipped over her head leaving her in her camisole, and then she was pulled to her feet. She opened her eyes as she walked to the bathroom and stood in front of the tub.

The scent of lavender bubble bath surrounded her as her mother walked away, allowing her some privacy. She undressed,  and stepped in, sinking into the deep tub, as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

She lay in the tub, exhausted and boneless when she heard her mother’s quiet footfall. Without opening her eyes, she heard the water shut off, and then felt her mother come next to her. Her bare feet and legs came on other side of Scully in the tub, as she sat on the ledge behind her.

She began to massage Scully’s head as she hummed quietly. It was not a particular song, but it was comforting. After a few minutes, her mother put her hair up and rubbed her neck and shoulders. Scully felt her sadness lessening with each touch of her mother’s comforting hands.

Scully reached up and grabbed her mother’s hand. “Thank you, Mom,” she whispered. Her mother squeezed her hand and then extricated herself from the tub, kissing the top of Scully’s head before she left.

Opening her eyes a few minutes later, she saw that a towel and washcloth had been placed by the tub. She leaned forward and picked up the washcloth, washing her body, before relaxing for a few more minutes. Stepping out of the tub, she dried off and then wrapped the soft towel around her body.

Walking into her mother’s room, she saw her bag had been brought into the room and left on the bed. She smiled at the love and care her mother had shown as she took out her pajamas and underwear. She dressed and then hung up the towel as her mother came back in the bathroom. She smiled at Scully and motioned to the vanity.

Scully sat down and her mother stepped behind her, taking her hair down. Picking up her brush, she began to brush her hair again.

“That day, that last day,” her mother said quietly, the brush slowly stroking through Scully’s hair. “It was horrible, I will not deny that. My heart broke with yours, Dana. I know what that baby meant to you, to Fox. I know if you could have, you would have kept him with you.” Her mother paused as she took a breath and shook her head. “But I had been there, I saw the danger not only him but you were in with him there. You made the right choice, Dana. You did.”

Scully looked at her mother in the mirror and her eyes were sad, but she smiled at Scully. Her mother nodded and Scully breathed out a deep sigh, looking back down.

“It’s easier to see it clearly when it’s been so many years, I know that, but it was right, Dana,” her mother began to rub her head again, her short fingernails scratching at her scalp. “I ... I had a hard time with it after William and then you were gone. I was depressed and alone and worried ...”

“Mom?” Scully interrupted, her head snapping up and looking at her mother in the mirror. “You never ...”

“I never said ... no,” she said, looking back at Scully once again with her kind sad eyes. “I know what that decision meant to you. I know how hard it was for you to make. At the time it happened, I wasn’t going to add to your heartache. I was there with you to lessen your pain, Dana. Then Fox was on trial and your focus was understandably on his fate. You left, as you should have done, you were where you needed to be, but those of us left behind, we were left to wonder and carry on. Your friends, John and Monica, were there and they helped to pack up your place. Eventually, though, even they were gone.”

Scully sat frozen. Of course she knew that when they left there had been those behind picking up the slack, but her mind and concern had only been on her and Mulder’s safety. She had worried for her mother, hated how she had simply left her, and not had the chance to say goodbye. When every day they had to worry about being seen, possibly recognized, and what would happen if they were, worries for those at home took a backseat. Now, she was learning it had been worse than she thought for her mother.

“Mom,” she began, but her mother interrupted her.

“Dana, I’m not saying this to hurt you, I’m telling you I understand. I understand your pain. I’ve felt it, and it took me down for a little while. It was nothing you did, but the circumstances out of your hands. As much as it hurt and continues to do so, it was the right decision, Dana. I knew it then, but the sadness still swallowed me up as it did you today,” her mother said, looking in the mirror, her hands on Scully’s shoulders. “Let the sadness in, and then let it out. You did what you needed to protect him, you, and everyone around you. He is safe because of a sacrifice you made, a painful choice you made. He is safe, Dana.”

Scully’s eyes filled with tears again and she nodded her head. Her mother wrapped her arms around her and held her close, Scully placed her hands on top of her mother’s and held her to her.

Her mother kissed her cheek and they both let go of one another and smiled. Scully stood up and pulled her mother in for a hug, her mother whispering she loved her. Scully closed her eyes and held her tighter. When she stood back, her mother smiled at her and Scully smiled back, incredibly tired all of a sudden.

“Could ... could I sleep in your bed tonight?” she asked her mother hesitantly. She nodded with a smile and Scully turned to head to the bedroom.

She laid down and pulled the covers close around her, hearing her mother let the water out of the tub, and getting ready for bed. A few minutes later, the lights were turned off, and her mother laid down next to her. Scully reached for her hand and her mother held tight.

“I love you, Mom,” she whispered, as she squeezed her hand and took a deep breath.

“I love you too, Dana. So very much,” her mother whispered back, with a squeeze of her own.

Scully closed her eyes and let her tired body relax, seeking the sleep she so badly needed. Her heart and her mind had been lovingly cared for by her mother. Now she needed to find the same relief for her body. She squeezed her mother’s hand once more before sleep found her, drawing her in to bring her comfort.

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Man Out Of Time (2)-- Brian May x Reader

Summary; Almost everyone has a soulmate, somewhere out in the world. Brian May was born with a ‘soulmark’ on his forearm. It was a constellation, and when connected, it resembled a guitar. He then received his second sign as an adult. Brian didn’t notice until someone— Roger Taylor— had pointed it out. Brian hadn’t aged since he was eighteen.

Warnings; mild language

Word Count; 1.6k

Notes; a big thank you to my wonderful beta readers 😘 (gif came from here)

Part One

Brian said that he would pick you up later that evening, allowing you plenty of time to get ready. You had texted him in an attempt to get some information about your date, but he played coy, refusing to give you any details. “Don’t get your hopes up. It won’t be anything too fancy,” you muttered under your breath before tossing your phone onto the bed. “Very helpful, Brian.” You dug through your wardrobe, trying to figure out what you were going to wear. Your brows knitted together when you heard the front door slam shut, followed by the sound of something skittering across the floor.

A small dog suddenly barged into your bedroom. You gasped and knelt down to pet it. “Aw, there’s my favorite little girl!” you cooed. As the pup clamored into your lap, you couldn’t help but laugh. Soon enough, your friend poked his head into your bedroom. You rolled your eyes at him. “You have your own flat across the hall, you know.”

“Yeah, but it’s more fun coming over here to annoy you.”

“I should have never given you the spare key.” you groaned. He snorted, plopping down on the foot of the bed. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Was that get-up really necessary? You didn’t have to embarrass me, especially since it was the first time I’ve met him.” You paused for a moment, then continued. “Ben, I swear to all things good, you better not follow us out and embarrass me again tonight.”

“Oh, yeah? Is that a challenge I hear?”

“I’ll kick your ass.”

“Doubt it, but I’ll take your word for it. Come on, Frankie. Looks like we’re not wanted here.” Ben picked up the pup and gave you a sad look, poking his bottom lip out. You scoffed.

“Frankie is more than welcome to stay, but I can’t say the same for you, Benjamin.” Ben laughed, shaking his head.

“Alright, alright! I’ll get out of your hair. You two have fun tonight,” he called out as he left the apartment. You looked at the various piles of clothing around your bedroom with a sigh. Putting together a decent outfit, you hoped it would be appropriate for whatever Brian had in store for the evening.

Brian straightened his shirt and cleared his throat. He was beyond nervous. He had waited so long for this moment, and it was almost hard to believe that it had finally arrived. Dozens of thoughts ran through his mind. What if you didn’t like what he had planned? What if you didn’t like him? He had heard plenty of horror stories where a person’s soulmate left, all because they were disappointed in who the universe had chosen for them. Brian shook his head in an attempt to clear the thoughts from his mind. Sucking in a breath, he knocked on the door.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, and it almost felt as if it would explode at any moment. You wrapped your hand around the doorknob and paused. You closed your eyes and took a breath. Surely, everything would be alright. I mean, the universe specifically handpicked you two to be together. Why wouldn’t it work out? You put a smile on your face and pulled the door open.

Just the mere sight of you left Brian melting into a puddle. His brain switched to the blue screen of death, and he couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought, which left him staring at you with a lopsided grin. A nervous laugh escaped your lips. “I hope this is fine for whatever we’re doing tonight.” You tugged on your clothes, and Brian’s smile widened.

“It’s perfect.” Your expression changed slightly as the tension melted from your shoulders. He could tell that his words had eased some of your nerves. “You could have worn a chicken costume and still looked breathtaking in my eyes,” he hummed. You scoffed, face reddening.

“Stop it, you’re making me blush!” Brian laughed and held out an arm.

“Shall we?” You linked your arm with his and followed him out of the building.

You covered your face with your hands, per Brian’s request. He was still trying to maintain the aura of surprise for the evening, and he would occasionally remind you not to peek. “You better not be leading me off into the middle of nowhere to kill me.”

“Well, guess I have to change plans then. Since the middle of nowhere is out of the question, would you rather your murder take place in a Whole Foods parking lot or at the zoo?”

“Those are lame. Launch me into a volcano so I can finally see how lava feels.” You smiled triumphantly at the sound of Brian’s laugh. When you heard him turn the car off, you started to move your hands away. He quickly stopped you.

“Not yet! We’re almost there.” You gave him a dramatic groan, and he just scoffed then got out of the car. Moments later, your door opened. “Keep your eyes closed, and I’ll lead the way.” You pursed your lips but complied anyway. Brian kept his hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you. The two of you didn’t walk very long before finally coming to a stop. “You can look now.” You opened your eyes to see that he had taken you to the planetarium. You glanced over at Brian, who had a hopeful smile on his face. “Ta-da! I thought it would be interesting because they’re having a special show tonight. But I know that this is kind of nerdy, and these types of things aren’t for everyone. So, if you want to go somewhere else, we can—“

“Brian.” He stopped rambling, and you took one of his hands into your own. “This is perfect. I’ve never actually been here before, so I’m looking forward to it.” Brian sighed in relief. You tugged him towards the entrance.

The two of you found your seats in the auditorium. As the projections started, Brian would occasionally point something out and explain it to you. Whereas you would randomly make comments such as, “Space… the final frontier.” Brian would laugh at your corny humor, and you could never tell if it was because he genuinely thought it was funny or if they were just pity laughs. Brian got so excited about the whole presentation, and his goofy grin never left his face.

Neither of you wanted the evening to end, so you both decided to just walk around for a while. Brian was still rambling about space stuff. Even though you didn’t understand half of the things he said, you enjoyed listening to him. You loved the way his face lit up when he talked about the stars, and his voice seemed to be a bit more confident. Your gaze wandered across the street, where you spotted the perfect place to visit. “Come on, all this walking’s made me hungry. Let’s get ice cream!” Brian snorted, following you into the Ben & Jerry’s.

After getting your ice cream, you and Brian sat at a small table in the corner of the shop. You had decided to get the Half Baked flavor, with its cookie dough and brownie bits winning you over. Brian chose Cherry Garcia. “You know, I’ve never had that one before,” you commented, digging your spoon into your bowl of ice cream. He raised a brow at you.

“Really?” You nodded. He held out his ice cream cone. “Try some.” You leaned forward to try a bite, only for him to shove the ice cream onto your nose. You gasped, and Brian burst into laughter.

“Brian! What the hell was that for?” He was clutching his side, still laughing.

“Sorry, love, but the opportunity presented itself. I just couldn’t help it.” You grumpily grabbed a napkin to wipe your face off. You narrowed your eyes at Brian. “Aw, don’t be mad.”

“I’m not. In fact, I’m happy! Because I now have the right to do this.” You scooped up a glob of ice cream and held the spoon back, then flicking it in Brian’s direction. His jaw dropped as the ice cream splattered across the top half of his face, with some landing in his hair. You started to laugh, quickly covering your mouth. People were beginning to shoot glares at the two of you.

“You’re terrible. Absolutely dreadful.” Brian wiped off some of the ice cream that had landed on his eyelid.

“I’m sorry,” you said in between giggles. You grabbed a couple of napkins and handed them to him.

“Doesn’t sound like it. You have any idea how awful it’s going to be, getting cookie dough and brownie batter out of this mane of hair?” Brian huffed before attempting to wipe out as much of it as he could. You bit back another round of laughter, not wanting to create a bigger scene than the two of you already had.

“I’ll make it up to you. Come over to my place. You can take a shower, and I’ll get us some drinks then set up something on Netflix.” Brian pursed his lips and tapped his chin, pretending to mull it over.

“Alright, I suppose I could do that.”

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