This post is dedicated to those of you who know someone with an eating disorder. Are you afraid of saying something wrong, and want to know what you should and should not say?
(It is very long, and for that I apologise.)
Please read the post with respect. This applies to both patients and their family/friends. Remember that no one are perfect. The person with an eating disorder is not using her/his eating disorder as an excuse to “be difficult”, it is a real and severe problem for her/him! Just as important to note is that family and friends are not mind readers, and they are not mean. Knowing that someone you love and care about have a life threatening mental illness, is a terrible situation to be put in, and most parents will do ANYTHING in their power to save their child from illness and death.
Below is a list (with explanations) about what to say, or what not say, to a person with an eating disorder:
- Do not ask yes/no-questions. If you ask a question such as: Can’t you just eat this dinner?, the answer you receive will likely be no, and the conversation abruptly stops. The answer you receive might also be yes, but be a lie.
- Do not ask leading questions. If you ask: There is no way to make you eat this dinner, is it?, the answer will likely be no. Leading questions come with a huge disadvantage: The person can feel forced to lie. Because you are giving her/him an ultimatum, but the eating disorder does not allow this ultimatum to be realized. Please note: I am not saying that family and friends should “play along” with the eating disorder. But I am saying that if you directly oppose it, there is a high risk that you could make things worse (aka make the eating disorder stronger instead of weaker).
- Ask open questions. This is the way to go. As opposed to the two prior examples, you could ask: How are you doing right now? Why do you think this dinner is difficult for you? Are you afraid of something specific? Is there anything I can do to help? As you can see, neither of these questions are yes/no-questions or leading questions. In other words, open questions like these will make room for honest answers. The person will feel safe that you simply want to help, and that you are trying to understand. You should also be clear that it is fine if the person cannot, or does not want to, answer the question. Be clear that you just want to show her/him that you care. You can also add that the person can come back to you whenever she/he feels like it, and answer the question later.
- Do not say “I know EXACTLY how you feel!”. Because unless you have had an eating disorder yourself, it is very unlikely that you know that. Ask open questions instead.
- Do not comment on other people’s body or weight. First of all, this is bad manners and can be very impolite. Secondly, for a person with an eating disorder, body, weight, and appearance is by far the most difficult topic for conversation. Body, weight and appearance are topics that can, and should, be limited to treatment settings. Plus; there is a major chance that the person already knows what you think of her/his body.
- Do not say “You look better!”. This is a tricky one. Hard to understand, even for people with eating disorders (believe it or not). Imagine this: You think you are chubby, overweight, or fat. In spite of this, your family and friends (sometimes also complete strangers) tells you over and over again that you need to gain at least 15 kilos/33 lbs. When you finally do gain, everyone are running in your direction to tell you that they can see you put on weight. I doubt that would feel nice for any person, eating disordered or not. And this is my point here. Almost all people with eating disorders see themselves as fat/chubby/too big. It is also very common that they want to become healthy, and want to fully recover, but still do not want to gain any weight. You should avoid this comment because it confirms (indirectly, and wrongly too, of course) that the persons greatest fear of all has actually come true, they have now become even fatter, chubbier, or bigger. It is very easy to understand why family and friends want to tell their beloved one that they look healthier! It is meant as a compliment, meant to be something mutually joyful. It took me years to be able to handle this comment. Believe me, I have tried multiple times and failed. I tried to feel happy about it, I tried to block out the voice that translated “you look better” into “you are the most obese person on earth”, I tried to control my own reaction to make people happy. It always ended with a fake smile, and a bunch of chaos. And relapse. I have had an eating disorder for years, and it took me quite some time in recovery to be able to handle the comment as well. Before this happened, I had to overcome all the hatred I harbored against my body.
- Do not comment on other people’s eating habits or -patterns. People with eating disorders are fully aware that they have different eating habits (or –patterns) than you, whether the difference lies in amounts or food types. First of all, the comment is unnecessary. Secondly, comments like these only contribute to the person feeling guilty: (S)he does not want to bother anyone, but now receives a clear message that that’s what (s)he does. Knowing that you worry people who love you, does not make the eating disorder loosen its grip. What it usually leads to, is the person wanting to eat alone or in secret, lie about food intake, or resort to purging/laxative abuse/(excessive) exercise. The same rule applies when/if the person eats what you think of as “too much” or “unhealthy”. Don’t bring it up. Just don’t. Leave the person alone.
- Do not talk about food during meals. I am not saying you should not express your joy over fabulous, tasty sauce/gravy. What I am saying is you should avoid saying things like: “I am so stuffed!”, “You must be very hungry!”, “Aren’t you having one more portion?”, “This is healthy!”, or “Nah, this is quite unhealthy!”. If the person actually tries to finish his/her dinner plate, you are transforming the effort into a house of cards: It could collapse any second. If you say “this is healthy”, the person might experience trouble eating tomorrow’s dinner as it is “less healthy” (because it contains more carbohydrates, for example). If you say “this is unhealthy”, you have potentially ruined dinner with immediate effect. In many cases, the person might resort to purging, (excessive) exercise, etc. to rid him-/herself of this “unhealthy” thing. The person might also “transfer” the unhealthy-label to many other food types similar to the one you just called unhealthy. If you say “aren’t you having one more portion?” it could make the person stop because it is made very clear that (s)he has already consume one whole portion. (While portion sizes are unlimited in recovery, because (s)he needs all the energy (s)he can get.) If you say “I am so stuffed!”, there is a chance that the person will make sure to eat just a fraction of the amount you eat. If eating less than you is too late, the person might resort to purging, (excessive) exercise, etc. to get rid of the “unnecessary” food.
- Do not talk about dieting, diets, healthy/unhealthy food, weight loss, or exercise. This is triggering to almost everyone. If you don’t feel too thin (to be “allowed” to do any of these things), why would a person with an eating disorder feel too thin? (This is how the illness works.) If you think you should diet, why shouldn’t the person with an eating disorder diet? It is very likely that the eating disordered person feels like (s)he is at least twice your size – even if YOU are twice HER/HIS size, for that matter. Be careful!
- Do not assume you need to tell other people what they are doing. It is not your duty, it is none of your business, and you are not the first one to point out what they are doing either. Most patients, no matter what illness/condition they suffer from, receive well-meant advice every single day. Sometimes even from people they have never met before.
Another important factor regarding this topis, is (well-meant) advice. People with eating disorders receive tons of (well-meant) advice day after day. We who have eating disorders, of course know that the advisor means well. That, however, does not necessarily mean that any of these advices actually help, and it is not necessarily a good idea to give the advice either. In fact, you should try to avoid giving advice as often as possible. I am not saying one should never offer good advice, but there may be several reasons as to why you should not give the advice at all. I recommend you use the following questions as a guideline: - IS this good advice? If so, why? In what way do you feel certain that this will make a (positive!) difference?
- Do you think the person has received this advice many times before? If so, do you really find it necessary to repeat the advice for the forty-fifth time? The least you can do is ask the person if (s)he has received the advise many times before, and if (s)he has, then drop it. Completely.
- Is your advice medically safe? Guaranteed? Or is there possibly any (slightest) chance that you are wrong? A good example here is exercise. Many patients in recovery are encouraged to start exercising. The argument is that exercise strengthens bone mass and increases muscle mass. That is true, of course, but it only applies to people without an active eating disorder! In reality, people with eating disorders should’nt exercise at all (in spite of all the wonderful health benefits), simply because exercise very often keeps the body in starvation mode (making it impossible to recover), and also because muscle- and bone mass are already broken down – if they are broken down even more (yes, this is what exercise does, it breaks down muscles), they are never given the chance to heal.
- Is there a chance that your advice has a triggering effect? If no, how confident are you? Have you had an eating disorder? Has the person told you in detail what triggers her/him? (If you feel any doubt at all, mention the topic first and ask if this could potentially trigger.) If the advice turns out to trigger despite trying the opposite, do your best to debrief the situation afterwards.
Peter falling asleep on MJ... Just like all the time
sorry this took so long anon!!!
the first time peter ever falls asleep on mj she just fucking. pushes him off.
because oh my god he’s touching me and im feeling things and what the FUCK is a feeling
so peter ends up on the floor of the library with an unnecessary amount of flailing limbs and how the hell is this clumsy nerd spider-man
the second time is worse somehow because they’re on the bus with all their classmates and she doesn’t want to make a scene but his head lolled onto her shoulder and he looks so cute and peaceful when he’s asleep and-
the bus slams to a stop
sending peter fucking flying off her and into the seat in front of them
and he pops his head up, hair a mess and eyes blinking in sleepy confusion
“are we there yet”
in possibly the hottest voice mj has ever heard
and she just stares
for what’s probably an uncomfortable amount of time
but peter is barely awake and immediately flops down and goes back to sleep
the third time it happens they’re studying in peter’s room
it’s late and they’ve been at it for hours so mj is reading and peter’s shoulder is pressed up against hers as he flips through a textbook
he’s nodding off and she knows she’s in the path of destruction
when his head hits her shoulder she makes no move to get him off because it’s cold and he’s warm and she’s got 300 more pages to go so why not
she thinks she’s close to following him in slumber after another hundred pages when suddenly she’s Wide Awake
because peter shifts and throws an arm across her abdomen
he snuggles closer onto her chest and it’s suddenly really hard to breathe because oh my god
oh my god we’re cuddling and i love it and i want to die
she’s not sure what else to do except stay perfectly still and hope he doesn’t wake up
but eventually her arm starts to fall asleep and she tries to move it
he jumps awake (damn spidey senses)
and practically flies into the wall after realizing their quite compromising position
and then stares at her in a mix of half asleep fear and embarrassment
waiting for some kind of reaction
she doesn’t look up from her book when she says
“you drool when you sleep”
and from then on it becomes there thing
if mj’s around, peter is probably asleep on her
and she takes to playing with his hair when his head ends up in her lap
and ned’s just like “you two are oblivious idiots and i cannot watch this ”
request: Hi! I have a request about you and Willy playing video games like Friday the 13th and he gets salty everytime you beat him and you can add Alex in there if you want. authors note: creative title huh ???? literally couldn’t think of anything better. thank you for your request. i hope this works! not sure how i feel about this one tbh. maybe i went in a bit too deeo without context? hope you can still enjoy this though. and feel free to send me some feedback as it always helps to motivate me. word count: 3497
” Jesus fucking christ.. ” The words were thrown out of William’s mouth along with the game controller against the hardwood floor. The bang frightened you for a second before you tried nothing but your hardest to hold the laughter in. ” Let’s go one more time.. ” You held your hands up in defeat, figuring it was for the best to keep your mouth shut to not anger his temper even more. However, that did not go for his brother. ” Fucks sake William. Not like you’re making it any easier on yourself. You know you’re gonna loose. Why bother? ” William shot a glare in Alex’ direction which unsurprisingly made a chuckle escape Alex’ lips. ” You’re the one to talk. Not like i’m the only sore looser in this room. ”
The competitive minds of the Nylander family was not something new. It had been around from when they were kids. They were all born with it. With parents as athletes it had come natural. Something you had witnessed more than once. After being with William for three years, you had more than often gotten to see the competitive side of their family during game nights or literally just from watching sports through a TV screen. You couldn’t complain though. You were the same. You loved to win and hated to loose. Something that sometimes got the better of you and your boyfriend. This occasion was one of those. For most of the time, you and William were fairly equal when it came to video games. Unless it was the NHL game. Then you were already mentally prepared to loose each time. Which for quite obvious reasons, you did not mind. William however- it did not matter what day, or what game, he could never stand loosing. Especially not when he felt like he was doing better. In all fairness, he enjoyed this game a lot more than you ever had. Hence why he should also probably be better at it than you. But he wasn’t. It was a harsh truth that just did not hit William Nylander in the right spot. And despite you choosing your moments to rub it in- Alex did not. He thought it was hilarious. Seeing his older brother getting absolutely pissed for not winning over his girlfriend. He almost enjoyed it more than winning himself. Though that might be taking it too far.
The rebellious mouse that was having a rock blast
under my magic carpet got bored one year ago
and planed a deserved vacation
somewhere on the Hawaii island.
On the road again like the bum writers
from the Beat Generation movement.
Along the way the mouse met a squad of drunken spiders,
a scared turtle, a baby elephant lost alone in the black wood
and a goblin magician who dismissed
with a coiled gesture all his super powers.
They gathered together under the dreaming clouds
taking advantage of the cool weather
and started to “gossip” about various topics.
It was mentioned from the beginning to be left out religion,
sports and other similarly boring subjects.
The whole bunch had pretentious and sophisticated demeanors and you couldn’t touch the top of their nose
even with a fidgeting broom.
They drank and ate and talked
until morning about celebrated scholars,
notorious witches, medusa eyed pirates and bad ass thieves.
As the dawn loomed between tremulous violets and stubborn roses they packed the dirt they made during the night
and proceeded to continue their journey
strolling happy against enchanted meadows,
grumpy mountains and smiled with all glittering teeth
and pale fangs at the sun popping like a sanctified godfather
amongst hidden in strange slumber, sisters in wander vagabond stars. Such a merry gathering no one have seen
since the renaissance troubadours used to travel
with 300 hundred pages of heart broken poems
placed strategically in the secretive pockets.
Next stop was at a german brewery
where they drank one hundred gallons of Irish beer
and a giant dozen of Austrian schnapps,
they smoked an unnecessary amount of indigenous herbs
and collapsed for an entire week
somewhere in a garden of blooming poppies.
All the journey until Hawaii island took one damned year
to be completed but Alas…
finally they landed at the aforementioned destination.
They found another mansion belonging to a surrealist painter
and settled again, all of them, in the basement
ready to explore an obscured underground life style
under the Hawaiian shimmering sun.
The junkie squad even bought a surfing board
though none of them really saved time to learn how to swim.
The issue is, I’m feeling fucking lonely
without the creeping noise in my basement
and I miss tremendously my best friend the rebellious mouse.
I guess I’ll gather my grotesque belongings
and move with them in case they’d receive me,
anyways I’m crazy about goth and rock&roll tunes
and I bet soon I’ll challenge with
stupendous blasphemies my eureka moments.
Much love from me guys and as you see this’s the mouse poem I promised you long time ago. I’m sure my old devoted friends will remember what I’m blubbering about.
Member: Johnny (NCT) Word Count: 2,427 A/N New admin here! I got inspired to write this while on my June teenth camping trip and I loosely based it on a few events that happened while on it. Despite whatever vibe the title gives, this isn’t angst (saving that for another day hehe). I’d like to thank the other admins for giving me plenty of support with my writing, especially Admin Sierra and Madi! Okay, I’ll shut up before I start rambling (more than I already have), hope you enjoy! -Admin Ay
*quick warning that there’s a tiny bit of cursing here*
“Yo, pack your bags, loser! We’re going camping!”
Your previously planned luxurious night of sipping on apple juice and scrolling through Instagram was ruined with the loud bang of your door being opened. You barely had time to flinch as your best friend towered in front of your sprawled figure on your living room couch.
The decorations are simple, but pretty. His S/O will put up
soft lights, bring in extra blankets and pillows, and light patchouli incense. Snacks
will be waiting in the wings.
Kankuro is immediately wide awake and all of the stress from
work melts away the second he sees his S/O waiting for him. He’s not one to
forget anniversaries, but he also rarely feels the needs to make a big event
out of them. Knowing his S/O took the time to decorate and dress up really gets
him pumped up, and he’ll immediately have them thrown over his shoulder and off
to the bedroom.
Kankuro will want his S/O to keep their lingerie on, opting
to just pull it aside (or rip it open) when necessary. He’ll make teasing
little jokes the whole time that turn into just teasing—he wants to drag out
the special occasion. His S/O should expect to be begging by the time Kankuro
even bothers to take his clothes off.
Kiba’s S/O will jokingly make a trail of dog treats to the
bedroom. The actual decorations,
though, will involve a lot of colorful string lights and body pain to use on
Once Kiba gets home, he’ll roll his eyes at the trail of dog
treats. He may not seem like it, but Kiba remembers anniversaries fairly well—his
mom and sister do not let him forget. He’ll leave the treats for Akamaru
(because let’s be honest, Kiba and Aka are a package deal). Upon entering he
colorfully glowing bedroom, Kiba will tackle his S/O into the bed.
The lingerie comes off fast.
Kiba doesn’t particularly care about lace or frills or anything because it ends
up across the room. He’ll also have his clothes off right away—that skin on
skin contact is primal and important. Body paint is always a fun occasion. Both
Kiba and his S/O will end up a sweaty, panting, painted mess. Both will
complain about clean up later.
The decorations will actually just be a blanket fort.
Neither one bothers to put forth much effort, unless that effort results in a
great place to fall straight asleep after some lazy—but mind-blowing—sex.
Shikamaru never forgets anniversaries and dates… but he
pretends to because if he acknowledges them ahead of time, he’ll be a dick for
not putting in the effort to do anything. Thankfully, he found an S/O who more
or less feels the same Once Shikamaru walks in to see his partner waiting for
him all stretched out in the blanket fort, he’ll crack a smile, strip down to
his boxers, and join them.
They will only bother to pull the lingerie (pajama) bottoms
down enough for Shikamaru to have access to his S/O. You’d better believe they
will be spoon-banging. It’s languid and Shikamaru’s hands are everywhere on his
partner. After they both finish, it’s easy to just pull everything back on,
cover up with a blanket, and catch a nap before round two.
Summary: It’s Dia’s 21st birthday, and Mari can think of no better way to celebrate than by hiring a stripper. But as Mari realizes her own attraction to the girl she hired, nothing seems to go entirely as planned.
Note: Anyway my experience with strippers and the process of hiring one is limited to what I researched for this fic, so bear with me 8′) This is obviously not the most safe for work, so be careful and stuff.
The 21st birthday was a rite
of passage for many in the world. For some, it marked true adulthood, and for
others, it was a time to celebrate with friends in a night full of drinking. It
was all too boring for Mari. She’d seen it all before in countless movies,
books, and shows. It was so popularized that it no longer felt special to do
anything within the norm. Why do what everyone else is doing when you could
turn it up a notch?
In a complete and utter lack of a precise time frame, I finally present to you all a markiplier imagine as requested by an Anonymous asker.
I feel like I wrote a whole fanfiction. This request took an insanely long and ridiculously unnecessary time to write, but alas! It is finally here to be presented to the audience that is, in fact, the markiplier fandom.
I realize my writing skills are no where close to amounting that of some of the writers among the Tumblr community, but these imagines are in no way a form of competition. I enjoy reading other imagines and stories within this community and do not criticize nor subdue myself to slandering the works of truly talented people. I trust that those who read my stories will do so as well.
So, without further ado, I present: The Surprise, a Reader x Markiplier imagine!
Have a lovely day :)
“could I have a markiplier imagine. somthin like mark has a big huge surprise for reader cause it’s her bday and he’s working really hard but also trying to remain inconspicuous while he flutters around making everything perfectly set up. u can pick the surprise it can be anything. extra fluff pls” -Anon
(Warning: Mild Language, Extreme Cheesiness at the End)
I find myself smiling as (y/n) sleeps soundly next to me, her chest rising and falling with each calm breath she takes. Strands of her hair lay askew on her face as some of the ends shake from the breath trailing silently from her nose and the slight part between her lips. I desperately yearn to kiss those lips, but I restrain from it. She cannot be woken yet.
I slowly slide my arm off of her waist, making sure the covers replace each spot that my arm disconnects from her, rather, my shirt that she loves wearing. I love that. I smile again. I want simply to just lay here and stare at her features all day, but that’s not how this day is going to work. I sigh contentedly- (Y/n) is my girlfriend, and nothing could make me happier.
It’s her birthday and it has to be perfect. Just like her.
When I believe it to be safe to get up without waking her, I roll backwards slowly towards the edge of the bed. I don’t realize how close I actually was to the edge until my face meets thin carpet with a loud thud. I lay there for a moment, frozen in my boxers with my heart nearly pounding out of my chest.
“Mark?” a groggy voice sounds from the covers above.
“Shit,” I whisper, the woven flooring capturing my profanity.
I move my head to face the bed, a pair of gorgeous (y/ec) eyes appearing over the edge, glossy and tired. Her hair cascades along the bed sheets, but everything else is blurry without my glasses.
She giggles tiredly, “What are you doing there, Mark?”
That laugh… those eyes… her hair… these are only a few of the things I’ve fallen in love with. And today is the day I am going to tell her. I’ve been scared for too long that it might be too early and I’ve finally built up enough confidence to confess my feelings towards her… I just hope I don’t chicken out. Six months might seem like a long time to wait, but our relationship is different. We don’t need to say ‘I love you’ from the beginning to know that we care. But pronouncing it verbally for the first time is still a terrifying feat.
“I, uh, fell out of bed,” I reply quickly, then peel myself from the hard floor. “I was going to the bathroom, go back to sleep. It’s your birthday, you can sleep as long as you want, my princess.”
I grin at her as I come to a standing position, stretching my arms in a symphony of popping noises. She smiles and rolls back over, humming contently.
I lean over the side of the bed and kiss her cheek before pulling the covers up and tucking her in gently. After grabbing my glasses, I cautiously creep across the floor towards the bedroom door, opening and closing it behind me. I lean my back against it.
That was a close one.
Taking a deep breath, I waltz to the kitchen where part one of (y/n)’s special day will unfold. I locate my phone, which happens to sit atop the bar near the entry to the kitchen, unlock it and dial Bob’s number. It rings twice before he answers.
“Hey Mark,” sounds the familiar voice.
“Hey-y Bob! Listen, you know it’s (y/n)’s birthday right?” I mindlessly tap my fingers on the counter.
“Oh shit! That’s today? Wade! It’s (y/n)’s birthday today!” Bob calls to his roommate and my other best friend, Wade.
“Yeah, I know, we’re supposed to distract her today,” a voice quietly sounds in the background. Bob mockingly yells at him to shut up, then resumes talking to me.
“So, you’re expecting us to pick her up and go… shopping?” Bob’s voice goes up an octave by the end of his question.
“Mhm!I have to invite Jack over to help me with part two, since he’s in town. You guys just go, have fun and treat her to lunch or something.”
“You got it, boss,” Bob says, chuckling softly. I hang up the phone before traveling into the kitchen to begin this task.
After setting out all of the ingredients, I phone Jack and tell him to be over around one.
You didn’t really fall back asleep after you found Mark laying flat on the floor. You just lay on your side, reminiscing on each frequency and note of his steady, endearing voice.
Mark seemed to be in a surreptitious mood while he explained his reason for greeting the floor first, instead of you. But you didn’t mind, Mark is Mark. You’ve grown to love this man, even if neither of you have actually proclaimed it to each other.
It’s been almost a year. A year since you bumped into him in a coffee shop and offered him a seat across from you- the shop was crowded after all. A year since you strained far too much than you should have to resist fangirling in that little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. A year since you sat across from him, sipping your favorite cup of joe and sharing stories of your family and jobs and future aspirations. A year since the time you were complete strangers… in person.
That one coffee shop meeting turned into many more, and after a few months of getting to know each other, Mark finally began officially courting you. After a month or so of asking you to the movies or out to a ‘casual’ dinner, he asked you to be his girlfriend. You couldn’t be happier. The persona he holds behind a camera mixes with his wonderful, natural self, it’s no wonder you fell hard for him when he began courting you. He knew you were a fan when little sayings of his would slip out of your own mouth here and there and, at times, he would catch you watching one of his old videos on your phone.
And now, six months later, you lay in his bed with a genuine smile on your face as you think about the silly, dark-haired man. Today is your birthday and you cannot fathom the extremes Mark will go to to make this day special for you. When the smell of pancakes wafts into the bedroom, you know the day of Mark being wonderfully enthused to make you as happy as possible has begun. After all, Mark has always promised that that would be his goal, to always keep you happy. Special occasions are his specialty.
You yawn, stretching your arms and legs before swinging your feet around the edge of the bed. Once your heels touch the carpet you begin making your way across the room towards his en-suite bathroom.
After all, you have to uphold being a year older by taking pride in your looks.
Half an hour later, you exit the bedroom and make your way down the spiral staircase with makeup applied, hair and teeth brushed and your favorite casual outfit that was tossed in an overnight bag the day before fitting comfortably to your figure. The smell of pancakes once again drifts up your nose as you follow the aroma into the kitchen, finding Mark casually flipping the pan of the delicious pastry.
“What’s cookin’ good look-”
A pancake that was in the midst of falling back into the pan suddenly didn’t have a pan to catch it anymore as Mark, startled by your words, had turned around with the pan still in his hand. The pancake flopped against his head and onto the stove burner, resulting in a chorus of sizzling noises. You begin laughing uncontrollably as Mark scrambles to pry the pancake from the hot surface. When he seems to have the situation under control, he turns back around to you.
“Um, that was planned…” Mark says, appearing mighty humorous in an apron adorned with a pink mustache situated against his black t-shirt and plaid boxers. His hair is askew along his face, his glasses halfway down the ridge of his nose.
“I’m sure it was!” you giggle, walking towards him to sort out the mess of a man, this mess of a man that you’ve grown to love more than anything in the world.
You situate his glasses up his nose and ruffle his hair back a bit. He always says he desperately needs a haircut, but you like when he grows it out a bit. He also says he needs to shave, but you also like the scruff.
You can’t get enough of him anyway he is.
“I, uh, made you pancakes,” Mark says softly as he wraps his arms around you.
“Thank you, Mark.” You smile as you peck him on his lips. As you step to break from his grip, it only seems to get tighter. When you turn your head to question the sudden restraint, your lips meet again, this time with a passion you’ve never felt from Mark before.
Mark surprises you in the smallest ways, and it’s these little things that you can’t get enough of. You want, desperately, to tell him you love him, but you’re afraid it’s too early… and of what he might say. You brush the thoughts away, as usual, and focus on the interestingly strong kiss. His lips dance on yours, the comfort of being in his arms washing over you as waves of butterflies course through your body.
When he finally breaks the kiss, Mark leans his forehead gently against yours. He opens his mouth to say something, closes it, then pecks you again before releasing you and turning back to the stove. You ponder what he might have wanted to say but, once again, brush it off with the explanation that Mark is just an amazingly unpredictable human… and you’re more than okay with that. These surprises make your relationship with him even more special.
“Go ahead and sit down, m’lady. Mr. Mark will serve you in a moment,” he says heartily, taking on his gentleman voice as he turns off the burner and reaches for a nearby cupboard.
“Oh, Mark… such a gentleman!” you reply as dramatically as you can handle. You both share a laugh before you make your way towards the living room. You don’t get very far out of the kitchen when a pair of arms scoops you up- bridal style. Startled, you turn your head to find your carrier is none other than Mark, grinning wildly down at you.
“M’lady is too special to have to walk to her seat, I must’ve forgotten! Forgive me, dearest (y/n)!”
You struggle amusedly in his arms as he nears the living room, his red couch directly in sight. You don’t necessarily like being picked up, but you can’t help but notice just how masculine Mark really is. His arms bulge prominently as he carries you into the living room-
“Yaa!” A much less manly squeal erupts from your tall captor. You both suddenly go flying over the armrest and onto the couch cushions, Mark landing far less than graceful on top of you.
“I hit my damn toe on the damn couch!” Mark whines, pursing his lips into a pout. As you look at his helpless expression, his face merely two inches from yours, you can’t help but feel the corners of your mouth twitch upwards. Soon enough, you start giggling. By the time Mark has stopped pouting, you are in a fit of uproarious laughter.
“Hey! It’s not funny! It… huwts,” Mark breaks out his childlike articulations.
“You seem to be slightly uncoordinated today, Mark,” you say as your laughter calms down a bit.
“You know me,” Mark replies, a goofy grin spreading across his face.
You suddenly realize your current position, looking down to find you and Mark’s bodies mirroring each other. You can’t help but feel a blush rise to your cheeks when you notice how your lower extremities are aligned with his. Mark seems to notice it as well as he quickly separates himself from you and stands back up. You lay there for a moment, hoping desperately that your blush isn’t visible.
Mark scratches the back of his neck as a light shade of pink appears below his glasses. “So, uh, I’ll bring you a plate.”
You nod. Mark hurries out of the living room and you watch him make his way into the kitchen, which is perfectly visible from your current position. Mark grabs a hand towel off of the counter, whipping it around a bit as he walks back and forth to gather items from various cupboards. He whistles to himself softly as you stare, amazed at how easily he coped with that tense situation. He doesn’t seem fazed at all.
Mark turns around. “Y’know, I can feel you staring at me. If you like this booty, you know it’s yours.” Mark gives a throaty laugh, wiggling his butt for its audience.
“Oh, Mark…” you sigh humorously, grinning once more as you sit up.
You glance out the window, the atmosphere of the outdoors appearing foggy and dreary. You don’t mind, you actually enjoy this kind of weather. These are the kinds of days you would spend with Mark cuddled on the couch playing video games or watching movies.
A few minutes pass before Mark appears in front of you again, his apron discarded on the floor and two plates steadily balanced in his hands. He sets the plates on the coffee table, each piled with steaming pancakes drizzled with syrup.
You take a long whiff of them, “Mmmm, these smell amazing, Mark.”
Mark smiles before returning to the kitchen once more, somehow managing to carry two glasses, silverware and napkins in one trip, with the help of his hands and teeth. After he distributes them between you both, he finally sits down beside you. Just as he’s picking up his fork and knife, you give in to an urge to turn his head towards you and kiss him.
He chuckles after your lips part, “Well hello to you too!”
“That was my thank you for this treat,” you say as you pick up your own silverware.
“I ought to make you food more often, then,” he says, returning his attention to the pile of food in front of him. He cuts a large bite off before devouring it, grinning as he does so. You giggle and shake your head, replicating his actions.
The pancakes are done to perfection, some adorned with blueberries, some with chocolate chips and others just plain. You can taste a hint of vanilla in each one.
“You are the official pancake master, my dear,” you say as you pat Mark rewardingly on his shoulder.
“Do I get a thank you for that?” Mark wiggles his eyebrows and childishly purses his lips, making exaggerated kissing noises as he inches closer to you. You stab a pancake with your fork and quickly press it onto his lips before they reach your own.
Much to your bewilderment, Mark opens his mouth and devours the entirety of the pastry in one bite, grinning madly at his feat. He still manages to peck your lips, then resumes eating from his own plate. You gape at him.
“You surprise me in so many ways, Mr. Fischbach,” you admit as you shake your head and continue eating.
“Keeps you on your toes!” Mark explains with his mouth full, nearly spilling the food back onto his plate.
You both finish the meal and, with much persuasion from Mark, allow him to take care of the dishes. You lean against the counter next to the sink as the it fills with soapy, hot water. You notice the spray nozzle next to the faucet and smirk as a revenge plan forms in your mind. When Mark turns away from the sink to grab a dish cloth, you grab the nozzle and press the button, allowing the water to fly at him.
“Gahh! What are you doing?!” he exclaims, bounding out of the kitchen in a fit of laughter. He attempts to impede the water with his hands, but to no avail. You proceed to spray mercilessly in his direction as he darts towards the couch. He manages to stand just out of reach of the stream and places his hands on his hips. Half of his body is soaked, water dripping from his chin and elbows to the floor. You let go of the hose to allow the faucet to continue filling the sink.
“You seemed like you needed a shower!” you exclaim, beginning to laugh. Mark has fixed his face into a straight expression, looking awfully amusing in his boxers and t-shirt.
“Really?” Mark said, his voice three octaves higher than normal.
Between squinted eyes from laughing, you never saw Mark rush towards you until his arms were around you once again, lifting you up and placing you over his shoulder. This was exact situation you planned on avenging, not reliving. You didn’t mind this view as much, though. Front row tickets to the ass of Mark Fischbach.
“Now, you’re going to sit here and look pretty, as always,” Mark says quietly as he slowly sets you down on the couch. “Nothing more.”
“No buts! You’re going to pay for that, so you might as well not get yourself into any more trouble,” Mark scoffs with a wink. His voice is nowhere near stern, more playful than anything else.
“There’ll be no pouting on your special day either, my dear.” Mark smiles before planting another passionate kiss on your lips. When you part, you smile at him and muss up his hair a bit. He grins as he leaves the room and begins to wash the dishes, clinking noises resounding from the sink within moments.
As you listen to the ambiance of the running water, a sudden ringtone disrupts the soothing background noise. You hear the water shut off and shift your gaze to see Mark picking up his phone. He talks in a hushed voice, a few times glancing in your direction. You furrow your eyebrows at him as he continues to whisper into the phone. You don’t want to be nosy, yet you know your curiosity will get the best of you. When he hangs up, he stares at the screen for a moment before locking it.
“Who was that?” you ask nonchalantly, resting your chin on the armrest of the couch to look at Mark.
“Oh! Um, nobody…” he quickly replies, waltzing past the couch towards the staircase. He gives you a smile before disappearing upstairs.
You sigh, but know you should respect his privacy. You sit on the couch for a few moments, quickly growing bored and not particularly feeling like doing anything with the TV. You stand and, despite Mark’s instructions to stay put, travel up the staircase to discover Mark’s bedroom door atypically shut.
You knock, “Mark?”
“Oh, yeah! I’m fine, don’t come in!” Mark shouts furtively.
You hear someone knocking at the door downstairs.
“Could you get that?” Mark calls, “it might be that new monitor I ordered.”
“You want me to sign for it?” you ask curiously. Mark usually handles all of the mail.
“Yeah, yeah! I’ll be right there!”
You shake your head, wondering what kind of covert mission Mark is trying to pull. You make your way back down the stairs.
This would be a good time for Mark to have a peep hole on the door.
As you reach for the knob, the person behind the door knocks again. You swing it open to find Bob and Wade looming over you, both grinning slyly.
“Oh, hey guys! You here to see Mark? He’s upstairs-”
You are cut off from finishing your sentence only to be lifted and placed over Wade’s shoulder. You begin to wonder just how many times this is going to happen to you today.
“What the absolute hell are you two doing?” you groan, tapping on Wade’s back. They don’t say a word and, instead, carry you down the hallway, into an elevator and out of the apartment building. They finally set you down on the sidewalk in front of the building. You place your hands on your hips and raise an eyebrow at the two obviously amused, precariously devious men in front of you. You wonder how strange this must’ve looked to the public and hope desperately no one called the cops.
“Happy birthday!” they say in unison.
You give them a quizzical expression, “Do you know how much trouble that scene could’ve caused?! How is kidnapping me from my boyfriends’ apartment supposed to be a present?”
“He’s a big boy, I think he can manage without his beloved for a few hours,” Bob laughs heartily. You glance behind you at the windows of the apartment complex, knowing you didn’t even say goodbye to him.
What if he thinks you’ve actually been kidnapped?
You reach into your pocket to text him that you’re with Bob and Wade only to realize your phone was left in Mark’s bedroom.
“Shit,” you mutter.
“Don’t worry, we’ll alert Markimoo that his sweetums is perfectly safe in our hands!” Wade says triumphantly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
You scoff, “Yes, safe is definitely the right term.”
“Hey now,” Bob grins. “We’re here to buy you stuff. We also could decide to have Wade carry you around town-”
“No! I’ll shut up!” You defend the dignity you have left after being unwillingly carried out of your apartment building.
“I don’t know if I should be offended,” a pouting Wade mutters quietly.
You shake your head and chuckle as the two men begin walking down the street. You follow closely behind them, taking one last glance at the windows of the apartment building before carrying on.
I knew it was Bob and Wade at the door… it was all part of the plan. I watched the trio slyly from behind the curtain of my bedroom as (y/n) grilled them on the sidewalk, noticing her glance up at the building a few times. It made me smile to know she’d be worrying about me, but I’m a man. I’m Mark Fischbach, I can handle anything… except maybe if I were to come face to face with an Amnesia monster one day.
But that’s besides the point.
I had to hide myself in this room- I was so near to telling her about the surprise. I’m not the greatest at keeping secrets from people when my natural instinct is to tell the truth all the time, especially if it’s a secret from my own girlfriend. So, before I let anything leak out of my mouth, I had to avoid her gaze. I’m such a sucker for her eyes.
I check my watch- 12:00pm.
I have an hour before Jack gets here and I still have so much to do. After getting dried (thanks to (y/n)) and dressed, I waltz out of my bedroom and back down the stairs, my cheeks turning hot when I glance at the couch, the memories of the awkward encounter (y/n) and I shared on it earlier returning.
All because I’m such a klutz.
No matter, I can’t focus on those kinds of situations now… or where they might lead. It’s only been six months. I tried my best to play it off like I didn’t even know it happened, I just hope it worked.
I snatch my keys, wallet and phone from the kitchen counter and head out of the apartment. I glance at my phone in the elevator, tapping on the Notes app. It opens to my to-do list:
I really hope she’ll like everything… I just have to build up the nerve to say what I want to say.
It’s a fairly nice day outside, so I decide to walk into town. When I reach Kay Jewelers, I walk right up to one of the workers and explain to the fairly old, strongly musky, white-haired man the kind of ring I need.
“A promise ring… nothing too fancy, really.”
“Well, let me see what I have,” the man says, an ear-to-ear smile spreading across his solemn face. He steps behind one of the glass counters and peers into it, the light from within reflecting on his face and highlighting each wrinkle. He clears his throat and, with a shaky hand, lifts a small box from behind and counter and sets it on the glass.
“This here is a popular one amongst the young people,” he mutters, his mustache fluttering with each word. “It has a simple diamond there in the center. I won’t get into specifics other than it withholds guaranteed authenticity and a pristine silver band, because I’m sure you don’t want to stand here and listen to the ramblings of an old man about stones.”
We share hearty chuckle, “I would be happy to hear the history of this stone, but I am on a bit of a time crunch.”
The man smiles and nods understandingly. “It’s set in a (y/fc) rim.”
“It’s perfect,” I say with full confidence. Somehow, this guy picked out (y/n)’s favorite color. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but I can happily say that I couldn’t be less interested in his odd sense of knowledge. I’m too busy thinking of (y/n)’s reaction.
“Hey, you alright, son?” the old man speaks, “You blanked for a second there.”
“Oh, oh sorry! Yes, I’ll take it, it’s wonderful, thank you,” I say, unable to wipe the grin from my face.
After picking the right size (found out with some assistance from (y/n)’s mother and an excursion into her jewelry box), paying for the ring and saying a quick farewell to the kind man, I head for the cupcake shop.
I pass various buildings and colorful stores, some made of brick, others of wood. Voices of people passing by blur into background noise, until a few familiar voices around the corner of the block sound prominently amongst the other articulations.
“I swear it! She’s a model! You should meet her someday, you two would get along, (y/n).”
Oh shit. I shouldn’t have told them to go to town, anything but the very place I was going to be! I duck into the nearest store as my heart nearly pounds out of my chest. I peek out of the front window of the shop just as the trio walks by.
(Y/n) is laughing, Bob on her right and Wade on her left.
“Oh, I’m sure she’s just wonderful, Wade!” I hear (y/n) say as they mindlessly glide past the store. I snicker to myself, proud of her sarcasm. I like to think I taught her a little about being sarcastic to Wade, but I know she’s always had that kind of humor.
“Can I help you?”
“Huh?” I turn around quickly to find a teenage girl with a name tag that reads ‘Cindy’ in purple ink. “Oh, no thanks, just stopped in for a second.”
The girl doesn’t say anything more, simply sighs and walks away with utter up-tightness. I roll my eyes, wondering just how some people can be so darn rude. I brush off the encounter with the pessimistic female and carry on out of the store towards CuppyCakes.
When I finally reach the sweet-smelling bakery, I mention my name, the name the cupcakes are reserved under, to the friendly woman behind the counter.
“Ah, yes! They’ve just been finished!” she smiles. “Want to take a look?”
I nod as she gracefully slides a nearby white box in front of her before slowly lifting the lid. The box swings open to reveal six cupcakes, each decorated in (y/fc) icing with small, heart shaped sprinkles tossed on top.
Cheesy? Maybe. But that’s how this particular Fischbach likes to work.
“They look great!” I grin, and the woman rings the price up. I pay for them, thanking her, and glide out of the saccharine shop.
As I travel down the grey sidewalk, I begin to realize a possible dilemma and come to a halt in the midst of people sauntering around me.
I’m not going to have enough hands… I really should have brought the car.
I put the ring box inside the bag the cupcake’s are posited in before impetuously sliding my phone out of my pocket to ring Jack.
“Hello?” a familiar accent chimes through the receiver.
“Hey! I was just headed to your place-”
“Oh yeah, about that… do you think you could meet me at The Pet Store? I was an imbecile and thought I wouldn’t need a car…” I explain while absentmindedly scratching the back of my neck. I continue walking down the street, weaving in and out of the crowds of people bustling by.
“Oh, uh, sure! I’ll meet you there in a sec, bye!” Jack cheerily concurs, quickly hanging up the phone.
I slide my phone back in my pocket, finding myself almost at The Pet Store. I take the chance to look at my surroundings as the sidewalks are a little less crowded here.
There’s a nice breeze flowing throughout the town, rustling the trees between the shops across the street. I spot a man standing in front of a florist stand, picking up and analyzing a few colorful bouquets of flowers before putting each one back in its respective place. The aroma of the blossoms drifts along the breeze and reminds me of (y/n).
An instinctive smile forms on my lips at the thought of her.
When I finally approach The Pet Store, I recognize Jack’s car idling at the facade. He pops out of the drivers seat and waves me over.
I jog to him and we say hello to each other in our own respective ways before heading inside the shop.
It’s been nearly an hour of mindlessly drifting in and out of stores and Bob has begun to complain of hunger. Your stomach has just about settled from the large breakfast Mark conjured up this morning, so you all agree to go into a little cafe in town.
“I could really use a burger right about now,” Bob groans, patting his stomach.
“Agreed,” Wade says, vigorously nodding his head.
You take in your surroundings as you backtrack through the town in the direction of Mark’s apartment, noting the comforting breeze that sways your hair about your head slightly. An aroma of various perfumes and colognes wafts into your nose as you pass by groups of people on crosswalks or bump into them coming out of shops, all teeming with an eagerness to go somewhere.
After what seems like a while of walking, a strong fragrance of flowers floats in the air, and you are lured to a little flower stand on the side of the street. You need to give your nose a break from the perfumes of the people on the street, anyways.
“What’re we doing here, (y/n)?” Wade asks curiously when you stop in front of the display of bouquets.
“Just looking,” you reply, cautiously picking up a bundle of (y/ff) and taking a long whiff. The petals tickle your nose, causing you to sneeze quietly. Wade and Bob chuckle.
“That’s not looking, that’s sneezing!” Bob laughs.
“Shut up, you guys,” you sneer. You place the flowers back down in their respective place and compliment the stand owner on how great they look and smell.
The old man from behind the stand gives you a warm smile. “They’re almost as pretty as my wife.”
He wraps his arms around an older lady that stands next to him. She grins widely, her sheer white hair cascading just above her shoulders. The man twists a small bit of her hair in his fingers, so you turn your attention back to the flowers to give them a moment of privacy. Bob and Wade shuffle awkwardly behind you.
As you stare into the colorful bouquets, you wonder if you’ll have as much reciprocated love as they do when you’re older. You think of Mark, grinning at the thought of you two as an old couple and hoping he’ll be the one to love you and make you smile far down the road of life. When you look back up, you can just see the adoration in their eyes as the old man plants a cliche kiss on her forehead and a chorus of awwe’s erupts from your trio. The couple laughs before the old man turns to you again.
“Have a bouquet on the house, you’ve got someone special in your eyes,” he says, pointing to the array of flowers.
“Th-thank you!” you stutter, stunned at the man’s generosity. You ponder the possibility of him having the ability to read your mind, but settle on the idea that your facial expressions gave away your adoration for Mark. You pick out the bouquet of your favorite flowers, the same one you smelled earlier, and turn to Bob and Wade.
“Is it that obvious?” you ask them. They nod their heads frantically.
“We can practically see hearts in your eyes, (y/n),” Wade chuckles, you and Bob joining in.
After thanking the florists once more, the three of you continue to venture through the town towards the cafe. At one point you could almost swear you heard Mark’s voice, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Bob simply called you crazy, but you know you heard him.
Maybe he’s looking for you.
It sounded like he was on the phone with someone, possibly trying to call you. Bob and Wade reassure you that they’ve contacted him and he knows where you are, but that doesn’t stop you from wondering why he’s in town.
“What do you think Mark’s doing here?” you ask when you’re all seated at a booth in the cafe.
“If he is here, he’s probably buying you a cake or something,” Wade says, enveloped in his menu.
“Yeah,” Bob agrees, nonchalantly.
You sigh, shrugging off the worries of what he could be up to. You trust Mark implicitly, so you choose to believe Wade’s assumption. You look at the menu and choose the most appealing option when the waitress asks for it, and the food is served fairly quickly. You make small conversation with the pair sitting across from you and enjoy the bonding time. You’ve never really gotten to know either of them, so you are happy that you can finally learn more about them.
“…and that’s when Wade tried to flip over the back side of the couch and landed right on his wrist.” Bob laughs hysterically as he recalls the memory.
“I broke it in two places and it hurt like a bitch,” Wade adds, pointing out the two spots on his wrist. They’re faintly bruised.
“I never knew you guys could be so dangerously stupid,” you laugh, attempting to keep the bite of food in your mouth as you do so. Bob and Wade have finished their meals a while ago, but you eat slower than a turtle. You like to actually digest your food, unlike most men.
They don’t seem to mind and, instead, pass the time by telling these stories about Mark’s drunken endeavors, along with their own. You absolutely love it and haven’t stopped giggling practically since you sat down with them.
“So, have you ever gotten wasted?” Bob asks perkily when his own laughter dies down.
“Unless you’re talking about GTA, no, I haven’t. I don’t particularly like alcohol,” you say confidently.
You’ve always been the sober one at parties, the dedicated driver, the hold-your-friend’s-hair-back one when it comes to alcohol. You know it’s the best decision for you, but you don’t criticize the Drunk Minecraft episodes. They’re all in the safety of their own homes, and you’re perfectly okay with that. They’re all goofy-drunks anyways, they wouldn’t hurt anything, except maybe themselves, while under the influence. They just become insanely hilarious.
“I don’t find that hard to believe,” Wade chimes in.
“Yeah, goody-two-shoes over here,” Bob rolls his eyes.
“Shut up, it’s bound to happen one day,” you admit, knowing the drinking excursions of the trio of men will most likely end up rubbing off on you. You’re smart, though. You’ll know when to stop, and the other three only do it to amuse their audiences. You’ve never laughed harder than during the Drunk Minecraft episodes, so you’re okay with them drinking as much as they do. They’re able to control it and they haven’t filmed a Drunk Minecraft for a long while, anyways.
“Alcohol is some hardcore shit,” Wade states. “We spent the entirety of Drunk Minecraft figuring out how much we could drink, what we could drink and just how long it would take to gain our drunken personalities.”
“But it was fun as hell,” Bob adds.
“It sure looked like it,” you smile, recalling a few moments from the series.
By the time Wade ends a story about a behind-the-scenes film session, you’ve finished your lunch. Bob insists on paying despite your demands to let you pay as a thank-you for taking you around town. Wade handles the tip before you all travel back outside.
“We should probably get you back to Mark’s,” Bob suggests, readjusting a GameStop bag from his left hand to his right. You tighten your grip on your own bags and cradle the flowers in your right arm.
“That sounds like a good idea,” you agree. You kind of miss Mark, even though it hasn’t been that long. You planned on spending your whole birthday with him but the excursions with Bob and Wade were just as exciting. You never thought you’d say it, but you’re glad they ‘kidnapped’ you.
When you get back to the apartment, Mark is nowhere to be found.
“Looks like he /did/ go to town,” Wade says, suspiciously looking around the living room.
You follow Bob upstairs to search the house more, finding the absence of Mark quite surreptitious. You set your bags down on his bed, snagging your phone from the nightstand before heading back downstairs.
You glance at your phone to find no messages from Mark.
You glance around the living room, “I suppose we should wait for him to come back-“
“…and then she threw it out the window!” a familiar Irish accent exclaims, bursting through the door of the apartment. “Oh shit.”
You spin around to find Mark and Jack looming in the doorway, many bags in their hands. Mark appears to have a large crate in his right hand-
“We’ve got it covered!” Bob wails soon before you feel someone tackle you, shielding your eyes. You know it’s Wade from the instantaneous robust scent of his cologne.
“What the absolute hell are you guys up to?!” you screech, resisting the urge to kick Wade right where it hurts. You accept your captivity, for now, but you’re growing tired of being held against your will.
"Oh, it’s nothing my dear!” you hear Mark chime. A door closes, soon followed by the sound of shuffling bags and feet reverberating in your ears.
“Let’s go upstairs, shall we?” Wade says, guiding you across the floor. He calls out each step as you reluctantly climb the stairs, still completely baffled and confused at the whole situation. You eventually feel yourself pushed into a room, a door closes and your eyes are unsheilded. You spin around to see Wade standing ominously against the door.
“Mind telling me what the fuck is happening?” you screech, pacing impatiently across the floor.
“Um, well, I can’t tell you…” Wade sighs, but smiles as he does so.
“All I wanted was to spend my birthday watching movies or playing games with my boyfriend, and so far it’s been nothing but secrets!”
“Please don’t be mad, (y/n)! I promise, it will all be worth it.”
You sigh angrily, but your frustration slowly dissipates. You can’t stay mad at these boys for too long- they’re your closest friends. You finally calm down enough to collectively sit down on the edge of the bed.
“Pinky swear?” you say softly, holding out your hand with your pinky up.
Wade chuckles, “Pinky swear.” He walks to you and locks his pinky with yours, then moves back to guard the door.
“You better be right,” you say with a stern look.
With as much confusion as you have, you can’t help but think that this whole dilemma is simply for your birthday. It makes you smile to think that Mark might be going through all this trouble… just for you. If this is supposed to be a surprise, it must be a good one.
You are reminded once again of just how much you love Mark.
“What the hell were you guys doing back so early?!” I exclaim once Wade and (y/n) disappear upstairs.
“We thought you’d be ready by now! (Y/n) thought she heard your voice on the street before we had lunch so Wade and I assumed you were headed back to the apartment!” Bob explains, making frantic hand gestures as if they would help detail the story.
“Okay, okay. It is what it is, but now we’ll have to be extra quiet and extra quick,” I say, dismissing the fact that my plan was almost ruined.
Bob and Wade had good intentions that only caused a minor bump in the process. We can still do this.
“I’ll be on rose petal duty,” Jack whispers, wiggling his eyebrows.
“I know what you’re thinking, Jack,” I reply. “That’s not always what they entail.”
“I’ll set out the candles and shit,” Bob says, exasperated.
“I’ll deal with this little guy,” I conclude, lifting the pet carrier in my right hand. A little yap sounds from within and my heart melts even more than it did when I first saw him.
The three of us disperse, Jack taking the bouquet of roses we bought from the florist stand on the way home to the top of the spiral staircase and Bob fishing out candles and a lighter from my kitchen. Some of this was pre-planned and prepped, so my excursions in town today weren’t as long as they would have been.
I am finally calm and organized enough to set the pet carrier on the floor next to the couch. I lay on my stomach as I open the carrier door, discovering the puppy shaking slightly in the back. I search around the floor my with my hands until I hear the crinkling noise of a plastic bag, successfully pulling out of it a bag of small treats. I sit up and open the bag before pulling a biscuit out and tossing the rest to the side.
“C’mon little one, come on out!” I beckon, waving the treat at the opening of the carrier. Once the puppy has a whiff of the biscuit, he slowly creeps out of the crate. I draw the treat towards me until he’s fully out, then observe him as he cautiously approaches my hand.
A small, fluffy tail wags behind him as his mouth finally reaches the treat. His tiny puppy teeth graze my fingertips as he takes it from me, causing an enthusiastic “awwwe“ to involuntarily erupt from my mouth. Two male voices join me in a chorus of adoration. I turn to find Bob and Jack standing behind me, halting from their work to admire the puppy.
"What’s his name gonna be?” Jack asks, watching as the curious pup crawls over my feet. I can’t help but grin at the presence of such an adorable, tiny creature.
“That’s for (y/n) to decide,” I reply.
“I think it should be Bob,” says the man who holds the same name.
That doesn’t surprise me.
“Can we pet him?” Jack asks, cautiously bending down next to me.
“Get your work done first!” I yell humorously. I glance at the sudden pouting expressions of the grown men, “Fine. But you have to complete your tasks right afterwards.”
Jack grins madly, chuckling as he lay flat on his stomach and the peppy ball of fur stumbles over to sniff his nose. Jack scrunches up his face as the puppy takes the opportunity to lick his nose.
“Puppy breath!” Jack exclaims, continuing to wrinkle his face.
The puppy’s little tail continues to wag rapidly and I once again release an “awwwe”. Jack ruffles the pup’s short fur a bit, then stands back up. Bob takes his place and the adventurous puppy repeats his own actions before deciding Bob’s back is a more interesting place to explore. We all chuckle while adoring the humorous animal climbing about Bob’s body… until I realize that we can’t waste much more time. Wade and (y/n) are still upstairs and probably shouldn’t be kept waiting for longer than they have been.
“Alright boys, enough completely manly puppy-love, let’s get back to business,” I say as I stand up. I lift the puppy from Bob’s back and set him carefully on the couch, unable to fathom just how small and cute the little German Shepherd is.
“He’s adorable, Mark. She’ll love him,” Jack states, smiling.
“And you,” Bob adds, also standing up.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I remember the words I’ve been trying to put into sentences to recite to (y/n). A confession of my feelings, feelings that have built up over almost a year.
Jack returns to the stairs, now about halfway covered in petals. I feel bad for having to pick the petals off of such gorgeous flowers, but I’ll keep the stems to see if they’ll grow more in some water.
Bob continues to bustle in the kitchen, the occasional click of the lighter sounding from behind me.
I turn my attention solely on the puppy. He’s hopping about the couch cushions, attempting to dig into the red leather. I’ll have to teach him some manners soon.
I kneel in front of the couch, resting my chin on the cushion to allow the pup to sniff and nibble as he pleases. He’s the most adorable animal I’ve seen in the world, and I foresee myself not being able to say anything else but “awwwe“ as he grows. When he attempts to go after my glasses, I quickly pull away and he stumbles backwards, letting out a quiet yap at the absence of my face.
"Shh!” I whisper, tapping him on his head lightly. “We don’t want (y/n) finding out you’re here just yet.”
The puppy cocks his head to the side, confidently sitting down with his ears perked. He seems to understand the meaning of shh, so that’s a good start with manners.
I scuffle across the floor to drag the bag the treats were in to the couch. I pull out a (y/fc) collar and unhook it before situating it around the puppy’s neck. He tries to chew it while it’s around his neck, forming an almost triple-chin with the folds of his puppy skin as he attempts to bite it.
Next, I locate the bag with the ring in it. I pull out the box withholding the ring before carefully pulling the jewelry piece out.
“Bob! I need string, a pen and a piece of paper!” I say at a moderate volume so as not to scare the puppy, nor allow (y/n) to hear it.
Bob rushes over with my requests, most likely having found them all in the junk drawer of my kitchen. I turn to the coffee table to write a note-
You’ve always been the light in my world. You have become that golden sparkle that makes my days much, much happier. So, here’s a little golden present just for you.
Don’t laugh, I tried.
I was hoping you could come up with a name for him, you know I’m bad with those kinds of things.
There’s a ring attached to his collar, as you’ve probably noticed. It’s a promise ring, to promise me that you’ll always be my light… that you’ll always be my one and only. And I promise to be the same, if you’ll let me. I know we haven’t been together for too long, but I can’t help but feel like there’s no place I’d rather be than with you, (y/n). I can’t see my future without you in it.
Please, promise me you’ll stay with this mess of a man. He needs you in his life.
I debate on adding ‘I love you’ at the end, but I know those three words will mean more if I say them in person. I sign the note before I write more, knowing I could write a book about how special (y/n) is to me, then roll the piece of paper up like a tiny scroll before tying the string around it. I turn back to the couch, finding the puppy now curled into a ball between two of the back-cushions. I carefully lift his chin, his now sleepy eyes peering at me curiously. I gently tie the string around his collar and situate it under his neck so he isn’t bothered by it. I then carefully hook the ring around the key chain part of his collar.
He falls right back to sleep, unfazed.
“Aww, that’s precious,” Bob says, now standing beside me. I never knew Bob could be such a softie.
“You finished with the candles?” I whisper, afraid to disturb the delicate bundle.
“Yeah, Jack just finished with the petals.”
“Good. I hate to wake this little guy, but it’s nothing a treat won’t perk him up for!”
I reach for the bag of treats again and, with a shake of the snacks, the puppy snaps awake. I tease the drowsy animal with a treat before handing it to him. He devours it as quickly as his tiny teeth can, then stares wonderingly at Bob, Jack and I- who have become his audience. The pup sits up, his tail wagging slightly as I reach to pet him.
“Alright trooper, you’ve got to look extra cute for (y/n). Do you have it in you?” I ask as I stroke his short, soft fur. The animal barks quietly as a response to the sudden feeling of excitement. “Jack, I’m trusting you to carefully carry him upstairs and pass him onto Wade. I’ll text him to let him know you’re heading up so he can tell (y/n) to look away.”
“I’m on it! C’mere little puppy, Uncle Jack is here to take you on an adventure,” he enthuses.
Jack calmly picks up the puppy, cradling it in his hands as he begins to venture around the couch.
“Wait!” Bob says as he darts to the kitchen. “I saw this in one of the drawers.”
Bob returns with a red bow, the ones you can just stick onto gift boxes.
It must be left over from Christmas last year.
Bob peels the non-sticky paper off and gently sticks the bow to the puppy’s head. The creature doesn’t seem to mind, just continues to look at all of us in bewilderment. Jack grins once he begins traveling up the stairs again, and I take the moment to text Wade.
‘Jack has the puppy. Make (y/n) oblivious.’ span>
Once Jack disappears from the top step, I turn around to assess the room. There’s bags and boxes sprawled around, not at all complementing the rose petal trail.
“Shit, Bob, we need to tidy up!” I exclaim. Bob and I begin frantically picking up the living room and basically shoving everything onto the kitchen counters.
After about ten minutes, from what you can guess, of waiting in Mark’s room, Wade’s phone goes off. He looks at it, smiles, then slides it back in his pocket.
“Hey, (y/n)?” he begins. “Could you look in the bathroom for… um… ibuprofen? Yeah, Bob says he has a headache.”
“So why doesn’t he just come get it himself?” you sigh, walking into the bathroom anyways. “I mean, it’s not like I can leave and give it to him.”
Wade remains silent, so you assume he doesn’t want to argue. You begin the search for ibuprofen.
After you’ve searched all the cupboards around the en suite, you look behind the mirror. You find the bottle of pills and carry them out of the bathroom. When you glance towards the door to hand them to Wade, the door is closed and he is nowhere to be seen. You groan and walk up to the door but, just as you put your hand on the knob, you hear a quiet yap behind you. You stand motionless with your hand on the doorknob, contemplating the possibility of your ears deceiving you.
There’s only one way to know.
You turn around slowly to discover the most adorable sight you’d ever seen- a small Golden Retriever puppy adorned with a red bow sits at attention on Mark’s bed, staring curiously at you. As you walk towards it, it tilts its head and thumps its tail against the comforter. With an outstretched hand you reach for the pup, who takes the moment to nibble on your fingertips. As it amuses itself, you notice a little piece of paper attached to its collar. You interrupt the puppy’s amusement to untie the scroll-like paper before sitting next to it on the edge of the bed. It crawls in your lap and paws at your shirt, demanding your attention. You happily smother the adorable creature with your hands and kisses, but eagerly continue on to read the note.
With one hand stroking its fur, you learn that this animal is a boy and that you must name him. You even giggle at Mark’s attempt at a pun, but you forget about all names except Mark’s when you read that he wants you to promise him you’ll stay with him forever. You’ve already made that promise in your heart, and now he’s going to know it. You almost begin to cry with how sweet the note is, but hold them back to finish reading.
Mark has asked you to be a part of his future. You could not be happier than right at this moment, holding a note from the man you love asking you to ‘always be my one and only’.
I will, Mark. I will.
Upon finishing the note, the small retriever has curled up in your lap and proceeds to take a nap, quiet puppy-snores resounding from his mouth and nose. You involuntarily “awwwe“ at the sight.
You inspect the collar closely now as the pup has fallen asleep in just a way to expose most of it, revealing a gorgeous ring dangling from the sliver key chain part of it. You gasp at how beautiful it is, adorned with your favorite color behind the diamond. You carefully detach the ring and slide it on your finger- it fits perfectly.
You admire the beauty of it for a moment, but you’re dying to confront Mark. You’ve decided that you need to tell him you love him. After everything he’s given you, not even just today, you want nothing more than to tell Mark you love him and to hear him echo it back.
The thought alone puts butterflies in your stomach, but you overcome the fears, the feeling of love itself giving you confidence. You set the note aside, planning on keeping it as a reminder of this day, before gently lifting the puppy from your lap. You settle him into a cradle position as he lay on his back with all four paws up, quickly falling back to sleep.
You finally approach the bedroom door, carefully supporting the puppy in one arm to open it with the other. Once you step outside the doorway you find a path of red rose petals strewn down the stairway, meticulously marking the direction you assume you should go in. A grin spreads across your face as you begin traveling down the stairs, each step making your heart pound a beat faster. The fingers of the hand you aren’t carrying the puppy in trickles lightly along the railing to guide you down the black, spiraling steps.
When you finally reach the bottom, four men stand in a line next to the couch with their hands clasped in front of them. Mark is positioned in front of them all, grinning madly at you. His eyes sparkle behind his glasses as you meet his gaze.
"Hi,” you say quietly, coming to a halt in front of the arrangement of men.
“Hi, (y/n),” Mark says gently. His baritone voice is soothing and quiet, the kind of voice he uses when he talks seriously and meaningfully.
You’re not sure what to do. You’ve returned both of your arms to support the little bundle in your arms and none of the other guys are doing much, besides smiling.
Yet, you couldn’t find this moment to be any more perfect. You stare into Mark’s eyes, realizing just how lost you can get in them. It’s almost as if you’re sending a million emotions to them, and as if he’s sending them right back.
After what seems like hours, which really translates to a few seconds, the puppy begins to whimper quietly in your arms. You break your gaze from Mark and look down at the adorable animal, finding that it has awoken and wants to be set down. You carefully place him on the ground and watch him hobble for a moment before he bounds off around the couch.
It’s not long after that that you’re wrapped in someone’s arms, someone who’s scent you immediately recognize as Mark. You take no time at all to snake your arms around his waist, taking in all that is your magnificent boyfriend.
“Thank you, Mark,” you whisper in his ear, standing on your tiptoes as you do so. Mark’s chest vibrates against yours as he chuckles softly.
“Anything for my girl,” he replies. “Happy birthday, (y/n).”
When you release the embrace, Bob, Wade and Jack have resorted to playing with the puppy. The animal giddily bounds around them, on their stomachs, across their legs and even adventures under the couch. While they’re distracted, Mark takes your hand and smiles at you before leading you to the far corner of the living room behind the staircase.
“(Y/n),” Mark begins, letting out a shaky breath. “We’ve known each other for almost a year now, and in that year I think I’ve gotten to know my soul mate. I’ve earned the greatest friend anyone could ask for, and am proud to call that friend, the most beautiful, caring, sweet girl in the world, my girlfriend. Now, I want to say something that I’ve been meaning to say for so long, but I’ve always been so apprehensive because of how you might react.”
Mark takes both of your hands now, gazing at them lovingly. He notices the promise ring on your finger and runs his thumb over it, smiling widely. He looks back up at you.
“I love you, (y/n). If I could scream it from the rooftops, I would, just to let the whole world know how much I love you. I love everything about you- head to toe, inside and out. I love the way you say my name when you’re tired, the way you kiss me when I’m angry and tell me everything is going to be alright, the way you make me laugh and smile and feel like I have a purpose in life. I’ve come to realize that that purpose is to always keep you happy, to always keep that gorgeous, perfect face smiling. You mean the whole world to me and I never, ever want that to change. I want you to always be a part of my life, to always be laying beside me when I wake up in the morning and to always make my days brighter with your smile. I love you so much, (y/n).”
You haven’t noticed it until now, but your eyes have begun to tear up. You clasp Mark’s face between your palms, colliding your lips onto his and squeezing your eyes shut to hold the tears back. You melt into him as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes tightly as you allow yourself to loosely place your arms around his neck. His lips move against yours with passion, a force seemingly so strong that it pushes your back against the nearest wall. You entangle your fingers in his already-messy hair as he traces circles with his own fingers on the small of your back.
You pull away from the heated kiss to rest your forehead on his. “Mark, I love you more than anything. I want nothing more than to know I’ll have you for the rest of my life, so that is why I promise to be your one and only. I love you so, so much.”
Cheers and hollers sound from the living room.
“There you go, Mark!” Jack shouts with a fist in the air.
“Way to go!” Bob joins in.
“That’s just adorable,” Wade adds.
You andMark laugh as you make your way back towards the couch, hand in hand.
“Thanks guys, I couldn’t be happier,” Mark says, squeezing your hand.
You’ve never smiled wider, nor been as happy as you are right now. A strange feeling grows in your mind as you wonder if your whole life led up to this moment, the moment of knowing who you’re going to spend the rest of your life with. You could not be happier to know that this charming, goofy man beside you will remain beside you throughout the years to come.
“Hey, little guy! Do you want a biscuit?” Mark says once you make your way into the center of the living room. The puppy is sat on the couch, his tail thumping away on the cushion.
“Biscuit…” you mumble, releasing Mark’s hand to scoop up the animal.
“Hmm?” Mark inquires as he pats the puppy’s head.
“I like Biscuit,” you smile, planting a kiss on the puppy’s soft fur. “That should be his name.”
Mark grins, “I like that too, he’ll be our little Biscuit!”
Everyone in the room snickers at Mark’s childish impression as he adores the newly named pup. He proceeds to peck your lips passionately before guiding you to sit on the couch.
“Wait here,” Mark says softly, his cheeks a soft shade of pink. You know he doesn’t always like kissing you that passionately in public, especially around his friends. They tease him about it, and you find it cute that Mark has that little weakness. You raise an eyebrow at the three men standing behind Mark to warn them not to make any jokes. They all nod and continue smiling at you.
You grin at the tall, masculine man in front of you as he stumbles out of the living room and into the kitchen. He makes goofy noises and hand gestures reflecting the personality of Wilford Warfstache as he flutters around in the kitchen, eventually calling in Jack, Bob and Wade as reinforcements for whatever he’s up to.
They talk in hushed tones, occasionally glancing at you. You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what is about to happen- the most awkward time of a birthday, the time where you can do nothing more but look awkwardly about the room while everyone sings. Then, as if everything else wasn’t awkward enough, you have to quickly make a wish and blow out a candle while they all just stare at you.
You notice that you have Biscuit as your sidekick, though. He’ll help you blow out the candle… or at least sit in your lap for moral support as you endure the situation.
You look down at the bundle that has nested in your lap, his head pointed towards the kitchen. Each time a noise erupts from that room, he picks up his head and points his ears in that direction before resting his chin back on your leg. You stroke the soft canine as you await the four men to bombard you in song.
It begins sooner than you think.
“Haaaaaappy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear (y/n)…” the trio chimes in chorus.
Bob, Wade and Jack rush over to the couch and crowd around you as they continue to sing. You helplessly begin laughing as you spot Mark shuffling slowly in the room with a white box balanced carefully in his arms.
“Happy birthday to you!” they finish, dragging out the last few notes of their surprisingly well-tuned song. Mark finally reaches the coffee table and carefully sets the box top. He squeezes himself next to you, shoving Wade out of the way in the process, and wraps his arm around your waist.
You look into the box, your face quickly heated by the candles within. You find six cupcakes arranged neatly inside decorated with your favorite colored icing. You smile and close your eyes as you make a wish, practically feeling the anticipation emitting from the large amount of testosterone surrounding you. They clap as soon as you blow the candles out.
You grab a cupcake, making sure not to drop any crumbs for Biscuit to eat, then carefully peel the muffin wrapper off. Mark does the same with the arm that isn’t resting securely on your back, only struggling slightly with getting the wrapper off. Bob ends up peeling it off for him.
“Cheers to my girlfriend for being the best one out there, and for being one year older,” Mark says gleefully.
In the midst of the group’s shouts and cheers, Biscuit hops off your lap and begins playing with Jack’s pant leg.
You giggle at the little pup, “And cheers to the new, quite adorable addition to our lives.”
Biscuit lets out a small yap as Jack begins playing with him, mussing up the soft creature’s fur.You turn your attention to Mark’s scruffy, amused face as he watches Jack and Biscuit with a sparkle in his eyes.
“Cheers?” you whisper. Mark snaps his gaze to you, grinning widely.
You both tap your cupcakes together, but the fun doesn’t stop there. You take the opportunity to smush the icing of your cupcake onto Mark’s nose, the whole room suddenly erupting in gasps.
Mark gapes at you with a confused expression. You do nothing to consolidate his confusion as you simply sit there, trying terribly hard to hold back your laughter. What you weren’t expecting, though, was for Mark to smush his own cupcake onto your face.
Now it’s your turn to gape at him.
“How dare you!” you screech. As much as you try, you can’t help the grin that spreads on your lips.
“You started it!” Mark retaliates, pointing a finger in your face. He’s smiling, too.
“And I’m gonna finish it!” Bob shouts as he waltzes to the box of cupcakes and carries them into the kitchen, far out of reach.
You take your finger and scoop up the icing from Mark’s nose before tasting it. You can hardly fathom just how delicious it is.
“Such a shame, now that you wasted two cupcakes,” you sigh. You continue wiping Mark’s nose clean of frosting and consuming the sweet, confectionery topping.
"Me?!” Mark gasps. “We both smushed a cupcake, missy!”
"But they were both your fault,” you argue. “You looked too cute to not have icing all over your face.”
Mark pouts. “Don’t call me cute.”
“Why not, cutie?” you taunt, pinching his cheek. You hear Jack and Wade groan behind you.
“Okay, (y/n)! You want to play that game?”
You say nothing, as you probably wouldn’t even have the chance to with how fast Mark pounces on you. His lips attach to yours, cupcake and all, as one of his hands pulls you against his torso.
Mark Fischbach has changed the meaning of taking your breath away. You smile into the kiss and feel it returned immediately, but Mark doesn’t go much longer without giggling like a little school boy.
Your lips part as his uproarious laughter begins and quickly becomes contagious around the room. You blush furiously at the realization of everyone in the room, but you feel better when you see Mark blushing too.
What a surprise.
“I’m pretty sure both cupcakes are on (y/n) now,” Jack laughs, now sitting on the floor with Biscuit.
You cross your eyes in an attempt to see the mess that has been made of your face. This only makes Mark laugh harder, causing a chain reaction of laughter from each man in the room.
You feel as though the grin on your face will remain permanent, even as the laughter dies down.
“I love you, (y/n),” Mark says with a look of adoration. His brown eyes seem larger and much brighter than usual as you once again find yourself getting lost in them.
“I love you too, you big goof ball,” you giggle.
“Now let’s open presents!” Bob announces, clapping his hands together.
The rest of the afternoon is spent with the friends you have grown to know and love as they all share the excitement of your birthday with you.
Mark occasionally whispers “I love you” in your ear when the others aren’t looking, each time making butterflies flutter wildly in your stomach.
You look around the room after all the presents have been unwrapped and a deck of cards has been dealt amongst the circle of friends in the middle of the living room floor. Each person (and animal) in the room seems to radiate happiness as glowing smiles dance on their lips.
You glance at Mark to find him staring at you with the widest smile of them all.
He mouths the words you simply cannot get enough of hearing from him;
‘I love you’.
And in this moment, with Biscuit perched in your lap, you feel complete.
Authors Note: This was originally written some time ago for a competition on another blog - I went back to find it recently and as far as I can tell, that blog has now been deleted, which is why I’m reposting now.
Alex had tried his best to be on time for once, he really had, but the universe was conspiring against him.
The proof was all
there - rehearsals for their upcoming tour had run on time every other day this
week (a miracle in itself when you consider the four overgrown children
pretending to be functioning adults who made up the band) but today, when Alex
had promised his girlfriend he would be on time, they overran by seventeen
minutes. Then he discovered that he’d accidentally left his car lights on all day
and now had a flat battery - it took an extra twenty four minutes for Matt
Flyzik, tour manager extraordinaire, to jump start the vehicle (and for anyone
keeping count, that’s already forty one minutes later than Alex was meant to
be). Then there was the traffic on the way home - having to sit still for an
extra nineteen minutes on top of his usual journey only served to make Alex
extra antsy (sixty whole minutes goddamn it, and he still had to shower &
change & most likely spend an unnecessary amount of time explaining to his
probably fuming girlfriend why he was so late because tonight was important, didn’t he realise that?!)
Y/N was sat on the
sofa when Alex entered the house, already in the dress she had picked out for
the night, hair and make-up all done & heels strapped around her feet,
staring blankly at the TV…which was turned off. This did not bode well for
baby,” he smiled, deciding to go for the casual ‘what do you mean I’m
It didn’t work.
“I just wanted
to be on time for once,” she growled, glaring up at her boyfriend,
“is that really too much to ask?”
“I tried, I
really did, but the universe hates me,” Alex half explained, not wanting
to get into the whole story while they were so short on time, “look, I’ll
just grab a quick shower and then we can go. We’ll hardly be late at all!”
“But I wanted
to do our announcement while everybody was sober,” she pouted.
Alex looked at her
“Baby, this is
the ATL crew you’re talking about - we would have had to gather everyone up at
ten am to catch them all sober!”
His response caught
her off guard, but she had known the whole crew for long enough to admit that
he was almost definitely correct. A large percentage of their touring family
had probably started drinking before lunch.
Alex took her
silence as his chance, darting upstairs towards the safety of the bathroom,
yelling something about being ‘ten minutes, tops. I swear down babe…’
Y/N didn’t know
where he had picked up that stupid phrase, but she made a mental note to tell
him never to use it again.
Pairing: Leonard Snart/Sara Lance (Captain Canary)
DON’T BE SCARED…I’M HERE
The only thing that Sara could register in the moment was the sound of her bo staff striking her opponent, whether it be his sword or his skin. She grunted, thrusting the pole in an upwards motion, hitting him squarely in the chin.
He stumbled backwards, allowing her to smack the end of the pole hard onto his forehead and then the back of his head, knocking him out. “That’ll teach him,” She muttered to herself, kicking his limp body disdainfully with her toe.
As she lifted her gaze from the pathetic form at her feet, she found the area she stood in empty. The trees were towering, and their leaves rustled, but nobody was in sight. Somehow she’d gotten separated from the rest of the team during the fight.
“Hello!?” She called out cautiously.
No answer. But, as she listened, a noise sounded in the distance. It was the sound of flesh on flesh, followed by cries that could only be caused by pain. And she recognized that voice.
The minute she registered who it was, her legs were flying in the direction the screams came from. It didn’t take long for her chest to start heaving. But thankfully she didn’t have to run too far.
Sara was forced to stop when she tripped and stumbled over something big and hard. As she lifted herself up, she found Snart’s cold gun lying unguarded at her feet. “No.” She whispered, grasping it in her hands. The weapon was spotted with blood on one end, which meant Sara could only presume that someone had been bashed in the head with it.
Since the gun had been carelessly tossed away after its initial use, it was becoming pretty clear that it had been Snart who’d been the victim. Sara clutched the gun close to her chest and scrambled to her feet. The sound of yells and punches had ceased, and she cried out his name.
“Snart! Can you hear me?”
Little did she expect his low, pained groan to sound from just a few feet from her. The minute she caught sight of his beaten and bruised form lying helplessly on the damp ground, she was on her knees beside him. “Leonard…oh, my God…” She gingerly touched his face, which was completely covered in blood and bruises.
His eyelids were fluttering. His body lay in an uncomfortable position, and, from what Sara could see in a quick survey of his wounds, he had quite a few broken bones. “Okay, we need to get you back to the Waverider. Can you walk?” Even if he had the strength to answer, Sara still replied for him. “Who am I kidding?” She grumbled to herself.
A voice sounded in the distance. “Kendra!?” Sara answered. Her friend gave a response, and she began to pull a half-conscious Leonard to his feet. “Tell Rip to bring the ship!” She called out through gritted teeth. “I need help!”
“Just hold on, crook,” She said. “You’re gonna be fine.”
“I am distributing a mild sedative and painkiller into Mr. Snart’s system—”
“Just cut to the chase, Gideon,” Sara snapped. “What exactly is wrong with him?” She stared at his sleeping form, a worried crease forming between her brows.
“Mr. Snart has experienced a physically-harrowing attack. He is currently suffering from three broken ribs, numerous gashes and strike wounds, plus a mild concussion.”
Sara closed her eyes, massaging her forehead. She sat down heavily in the chair beside his bed. “And regarding his recovery?” She inquired after a long breath.
“Mr. Snart should be able to recover fully as long as he does not participate in Captain Hunter’s missions for awhile. This will give his body a chance to heal.”
“How long is ‘awhile’?” Sara demanded.
“Given the state of his ribs, I would say approximately six weeks at most. This amount of time may seem vastly unnecessary, and, yes, his initial wounds, the bruises, cuts, and concussion, should heal in two weeks at least. But his broken ribs are what will take such an extensive amount of time to heal.”
Sara sighed. “Thanks, Gideon,” She muttered after a second. The electronic assistant’s voice disappeared, and she was once again left alone. She took hold of Leonard’s slack hand, rubbing his palm with her thumb.
She turned to find Kendra standing in the doorway of the infirmary, looking uncertain. “Hey, Kendra,” Sara said with a forced smile.
Her friend approached her, taking note of the two’s interlocked hands. “How’s he doing?” Sara narrowed her eyes, and Kendra bit her lip. “Not good, huh?”
“He’ll be fine,” Sara answered. “But…it’ll take awhile.”
Kendra nodded, claiming the seat beside her. “Sara…be honest with me.” Sara looked up at her, brow creased. “You like him, don’t you? I see the way you look at him.” Sara avoided her friend’s gaze, and Kendra smiled. “It’s okay to admit it.”
Sara pulled her hand away from Leonard’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice was firm, and she stood. “I’m gonna…go update Rip on his situation.”
As she walked away, she could feel Kendra’s stare burning into her back. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew her friend was right.
Sara was asleep against the wall in med bay when Leonard finally surfaced to consciousness. His initial groan of pain was what caused her to open her eyes. In seconds, she was on feet beside his bed.
“Snart?” His eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled a little as he caught sight of her. “Hey, crook. How’re you doing?”
Leonard was completely out of it, and she grabbed his hand in an attempt to drag him back into reality. As her fingers connected with his, he then seemed to notice the pain. He tried to sit up, which only resulted in a long moan of agony to escape his lips.
“Hey.” She touched his bruised and battered face. “Look at me.”
His blue eyes met hers, a desperate light shining within them. “Don’t let him get me,” He whispered, voice hoarse. “Don’t let him get me!”
“What?” Sara had never seen him like this.
“Mr. Snart is considerably stressed,” Gideon cut in. “I am distributing another sedative into his system.”
Sara tried to protest, but it was too late. Leonard was already fading again. He continued to grasp her hand, his skin clammy and his eyes filled with panic. “Don’t let him get me…” He repeated before his eyes closed again completely.
Sara reached forward and stroked her hand across his cheek. “You’re gonna be okay, crook. I promise.”
Gideon kept Leonard heavily sedated for the next few days. Sara continuously asked her to take him off of the medication, but every time he surfaced to consciousness, he would panic as soon as he registered the pain from his injuries.
She didn’t understand…it had to be something…terrifying to make Snart act like this. ‘Don’t let him get me’, he kept saying. What did that mean?
Sara could barely force herself to leave his side. Especially when the nightmares started. They were quiet, at first. Just twitching, pained expressions. But they gradually became worse, and each time they commenced, Gideon was forced to distribute even more medication into his system.
Snart had been unconscious for days now. The sedatives were strong in his system…with the amount Gideon had been giving him lately…Sara was surprised that he was still breathing.
But, finally, the nightmares ceased. Leonard slept peacefully, and so did Sara, after not doing so for awhile. She knew the nightmares would return, but she cherished the time in between.
Eventually, the nightmares did commence once again. This time, Sara ordered Gideon specifically to not insert the sedative into Leonard’s system. Instead, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Leonard. Hey. Wake up.”
Her method worked, and he slowly seemed to be returning to reality. As soon as he took note of the pain, he began to panic, but Sara cupped her hand gently around one side of his neck. “Leonard.” He looked to her, and she smiled. “It’s me.”
“Sara…” His voice was hoarse. “Don’t—”
“‘Let him get you’?” She finished for him. “Don’t worry, crook, nobody’s gonna get you. Not while I’m around.” Sara spoke as if she were dealing with a frightened child. In a way, she felt like she was. This was so unlike Leonard Snart that it seemed as if she were speaking to someone else entirely.
His body relaxed at her words, and his eyes closed once again. “Don’t let him get Lisa, either…” He mumbled under his breath. “Dad hates her more than me…”
“What?” Sara shook him, trying to jar him back into consciousness, but he was already out. She sat back in her chair, pondering. Lisa? That was his sister, right? And Dad…she closed her eyes, clutching the edge of her seat.
Was it possible that…that Leonard and his sister had been abused by their father? She took a breath and leaned forward, grabbing his hand. “Don’t be scared…” She whispered to him. “I’m here.” He seemed to relax in his unconsciousness.
“I’ll always be here.”
“Hey, there, sleepyhead.” Sara said with smile as she saw Leonard’s eyes open. “You finally done napping?” He groaned as he tried to sit up. Pain flared from his ribs, and Sara helped him into a sitting position that was comfortable for him.
“Well, if you hadn’t kept drugging me…” He complained.
“You can blame Gideon for that.” Sara answered with a grin.
“Miss Lance, I must inform you that I am here at all times.” Gideon’s voice sounded immediately after her claim, and Sara chuckled.
“Sorry, Gideon.” She said before turning back to Leonard. “So, crook…how’re you doing? You’re at least looking better. For a while there, you resembled a soccer ball that had been kicked too many times. Now you look a lot more like Leonard Snart.”
“I’m fine,” Leonard replied. “And I no longer feel like someone pumped me full of every single drug known to man.” His tone was sarcastic, and Sara smiled.
“Seems you are feeling back to normal.” She responded lightly. Her expression tightened, and Snart noticed, his own face darkening as he awaited her next words. “Leonard…do you remember the nightmares?” He shook his head, and she bit her lip. “You kept saying… ‘Don’t let him get me’, and you mentioned Lisa and…your dad.”
Leonard narrowed his eyes, and she tried to take his hand. He ripped it away before she could fully grab hold of it.
“You can talk to me.” Sara said. “I promise I won’t say anything to anyone if that’s what you want.”
He sighed heavily. “My father was a filthy drunk.” He began. “He always was. But it was when he came home after his time in prison that he turned violent.” He cut off, his expression pensive. “I’ll always remember the first time he…he hit me.” Sara took his hand, and this time he didn’t pull away. “He’d been quiet and brooding in the days since he’d been home, and I’d tried to steer clear of him. But then…one day, I messed up. It wasn’t that bad, all I’d done was accidentally drop one of his full beer bottles. But he was furious. And before I knew it, I was lying face down on the ground with my dad’s foot kicking me in the side…over and over and over again.”
He fell silent, and Sara bowed her head. “And this…this attack reminded you of him?” He nodded a little, and Sara smiled sadly, pulling her hand away from his and standing. “I won’t say anything about what you just told me. I promise.”
“I trust you.” Snart answered.
“I trust you, too, Leonard,” Sara replied. “You’ve opened up to me more than once, and I’m grateful for that.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “That shows me that you have a heart, crook.” She smiled, and so did he.
“And that means that you’re a good person. A hero.”