#shaking with the effort to not ramble on and spoil stuff

[lepusrufus]

Enjoying your paranormal CaitVi au a lot, I swear aus like this are so sparse but its one of my favorite au topics. What would Vi or others(ekko, ect.) reaction to Cait's brand scar be, I'm very curious. Any other lore you could/wanna give would also be super cool and interesting.

I know I've said it before, but it really warms my heart to see all the people getting on board with this AU! <3

Thing is, Caitlyn is really wary about who sees it, since her family is a sore spot to put it very mildly. But ehh people do end up seeing it one way or another:

Ekko doesn't really acknowledge it, figures that if Vi trusts her enough then fine. But he does keep an eye on her, which isn't too far off from canon.

Vi sees it on their very first meeting, mentions it, and gets all but told to shut the fuck up by a rather miffed Caitlyn. And while Vi can be blunt sometimes, she recognizes what buttons not to push so she leaves it be until they *ahem* get to know each other better and ends up accidentally touching it. Caitlyn lashes out on instinct. For about 5 seconds before realizing it and feeling absolutely terrible.

They end up talking about it and Vi is rightfully angry when she finds out it was done when Caitlyn was merely 14. Especially with how Caitlyn was taught that it's actually a good thing because look how young you were when you became a full fledged hunter, you should be so proud of yourself.

As for lore tidbits, gonna try and keep it from plot spoilery territory, so have a few assorted fun fact-ish:

As far as the timeline goes, everything is pretty much the same as Arcane up until ep3. But Vi never gets thrown in Stillwater as Ekko manages to help her get away from Marcus and Powder gets taken in by Silco. Vi instead gets put in Vander's place as "Hound of the Underground" (still ironic)

Big shoes to fill at that age but she sorta manages somehow while also trying to look for her sister

It's ok tho Ekko is there to be the best lil' bro (and get on each other's nerves)

Also Ekko has nature powers and is the one who plants and grows the tree

The Firelights are still a thing, but instead of only helping people that were hurt by shimmer, they also help those that aren't human and have trouble with their powers

Vi, being sorta undead and having 0 body temp regulation, gets cold really easily. But worry not she has a warm werewolf gf to cuddle with

Alternatively, when Caitlyn is really upset about something she tends to just turn and sulk as an oversized wolf. Vi picks up on that and tries to offer some comfort

Cait, Vi and Ekko are the ultimate trio of annoying the fuck out of each other. Specifically poking fun at what the others are: Caitlyn says she needs the bathroom and Ekko tells her to stay away from his plant pots; Ekko teases Vi for being whipped and she threatens to drain him of his blood; Cait asks Ekko if eating plants counts as cannibalism and he's like reverse vegan and he answers that he's about to have wolf steak

A lot of Caitlyn's scars are rather ironic: she has a gunshot scar on her lower back, a bite mark on her side, and a bear trap mark all around her right forearm (since she uses traps in the lol lore)

[imaginativeamateur]

Hi!! Could I please request prompt 16 for the event. For fem reader and Shikamaru. Maybe starting with some angst and ending on a fluffy note. 😘

[Shikamaru Nara X Reader] Feverish to Your Touch

|200 Followers Event|

Prompt: 16 — “I've got you."

Pairing: Shikamaru Nara x fem!Reader

Note: Thank you for requesting, anon!! This one starts with some slight angst (I'm not sure if it's actually angsty) BUT ends in complete fluff! I can't say much because I don't wanna spoil it. By the way, I have real difficulties coming up with titles and this one sounds cringey huhu. Okay, enough rambling, please enjoy!

You were sick out of nowhere, one day you were fine and the next day, you caught a severe cold. Wrapping a blanket around your shivering torso, you trudged your way into the kitchen to grab a cup of warm water, but to your dismay, all of the cups you had were hanging from the rack way too far from your reach.

You sniffed, trudging to the living room and lounged on the couch, whining when your stomach rumbled. You did not have anything since you woke up and it was currently eleven. Shikamaru said he would not be home for lunch and you were too exhausted to make a decent meal. On days like these, you felt a bit empty and disappointed when he was unable to be here with you—just chatting and accompanying you through the day was enough. But you grew to familiarize yourself with Shikamaru’s packed agenda since he was the Hokage’s right hand man and you felt ultimately proud for being his spouse, regardless of having little time to spend with him like your friends did with theirs.

You sat staring at the ticking clock, occasionally pulling the blanket tighter around your body. Over the next hour, you befriended the tissue box on the tea table as you glued your eyes to the TV screen, hoping to feel a little better.

And you did. When the headache finally subsided, you decided it was the perfect time to at least go make some oatmeal or something to fill your empty stomach. So you ambled back into the kitchen again and searched the cupboard. You did not know if you stepped out of bed with your left leg or not but the instant oats container was also positioned on one of the farther top shelves. Though determined, you had to sigh before going to get a stool to stand up on.

Getting up the stool was not hard. You just had to lift and place one foot on the surface and then pull your body up. You—even though required more effort than usual—were able to get your oats with ease. It was getting back down onto the ground that freaked you out. Now, you started to regret not walking a few extra steps to get a lower stool because you basically could not see yourself landing without probably knocking some stuff over, maybe even knocking yourself over. The distance from the ground to your feet was more or less a meter and there was nothing to grip onto midway down. And that was when the headache decided to kick in.

You stood on the stool with a blurry vision as you held onto the cupboard for your dear life, trembling legs giving out at any moment. Whenever you gazed down at the kitchen counter's surface, your head buzzed and you scrunched your nose in discomfort. You were trying your best to remain composed, blinking your eyes and shaking your head several times but it was all futile. Before choosing to float one foot in the air and crossing your fingers that you would land safely, you felt a pair of strong arms secured around your hips.

“I’ve got you.” Shikamaru assured, “Relax, Y/N.”

You immediately melted into his presence, letting him effortlessly carry you back onto the ground. Stabilizing on your feet, you weakly grinned, “I thought you wouldn’t come home for lunch.”

“I was worried,” he furrowed his brows, “and I’m not wrong. Look what you’re holding.”

“It’s instant oats. I don’t know why it’s on the top shelf but what’s wrong?”

“It’s expired,” he deadpanned, “I put it up there so you wouldn’t get it and I forgot to throw it away.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, looking for the expiration date and sheepishly cooed, “you’re right.”

“Go to the living room and rest, I’ll cook.”

“But—”

“No ‘but’s, come on, I won’t burn the place down,” he took the container from your hands and ushered you out of the kitchen.

“Thank you, Shika!” You smiled as he led you back to the living room.

Shikamaru pressed you down onto the couch and wrapped you in the blanket like a roll, “How are you feeling?”

“Slightly better than the morning,” you happily complied and leaned back without forgetting to add with a timid curve at your lips, “but a little hungry.”

He suddenly propped himself forward, flushing you impossibly farther into the cushion as he stared deep into your eyes. You squirmed but he made sure to trap your body with his hands, “Don’t move, Y/N.”

So you sat quietly, studying his features as he slowly held his forehead against your temple, pausing for several seconds. You looked up at him through your fluttering lashes, “What—”

“Good,” he mumbled before pulling away, “you’re temperature is lower than that of the morning.”

You asked yourself in silence if it was really necessary for him to do so but Shikamaru took you by surprise and hugged you tight, rooting his chin on your shoulder, “You know, I’m here for you… always.”

------------------

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @thenightfallingstar @iam-gaaras-loveintrest @animepickle7

[izusun]

Alright more patented Goblin AU ramblings~~~

My mind is HYPERFIXATED on quirkless vigilante Izuku somehow adopting Eri, and balancing that sweet vigilante life (instant ramen, a coffee addiction, and stealing from criminals to pay rent) while trying to raise Eri semi-normally.

Like he's a disaster on his own but add onto the fact that now he's trying to care for Eri?

Dadzawa notices that he's become more tired on patrols (which is saying A LOT) and is now even more on the *must adopt* train.

(yes Izuku has a gun in this one too, I'm a sucker im sorrryy)

Izuku works very hard to try and keep his vigilante persona away from Eri, which often means hiding stab/bullet wounds. Also he spoils her constantly, but they don't get a lot of money anyways, which mostly means him either DIYing stuff or skipping meals to get her another candy apple.

(don't ask where Inko is idk man, she's just gone, you can decide)

Just: Disaster Izuku trying to raise Eri while dealing with his own baggage WHILE Dadtective Tsukauchi and Dadzawa try to bring him in so they can finally adopt him

ALSO ALSO: The pro heroes who are sent to try and catch him all independantly decide to try and adopt him, which leads to a custody battle when they do finally catch Izuku (and Eri making it v clear that she loves her brother/papa and is just as fiercely protective and attached as Izuku is to her even after only a few months/a year makes me feel things)

- Goblin anon

OMG I LOVE THIS GOBLIN!!!! midoriya collecting dads like they’re pokemon cards <3

NO BUT IMAGINE HOW AIZAWA FINDS OUT THAT HIS VIGILANTE SON IS NOT TAKING CARE OF HIMSELF:

midoriya’s running away from busting another villain organization, lethargic and slow. he’s sporting two broken ribs and one nasty gash to the thigh. but aizawa’s on his tail and police cars are blaring their sirens from below, obviously following aizawa in his pursuit.

“problem child goddamn it just stand down!” aizawa yells, but does not erase their vigilante’s quirk (no one knows midoriya’s quirkless and right now, aizawa can clearly see that midoriya’s hurt so he doesn’t want to risk midoriya’s safety by erasing his quirk.)

midoriya doesn’t respond and it sends more warning blares to aizawa because their vigilante is never quiet.

“kid?” aizawa asks, ramping up his speed to catch up on midoriya but midoriya’s good at parkour and keeps running away, far from aizawa’s reach. aizawa curses, swings his weight using his capture weapon to give himself leverage but-

“OW!” midoriya yelps, hitting himself from a stray metal beam and aizawa watched in horror as their vigilante kid falls.

“KID!” aizawa’s voice was rough, unused to screaming, as he bolts towards edge of the building’s rooftop, peering down to check at midoriya. he hisses in anger because, as usual, midoriya’s gone.

he reports this incident to tsukauchi and they both try to trace midoriya’s steps, but like an actual ghost, there is never a trace. with aizawa’s agreement, they both add more heroes in their case, never failing to impart that the priority is not to capture but to ensure midoriya’s safety.

of course the heroes love midoriya when they realize that this vigilante boy is adorable, kind, respectful, and cheeky in all the good ways.

things finally change when one night, midoriya crashes to the police station, vigilante outfit intact but bloody. tsukauchi and aizawa are there to meet him, both worried because midoriya will never do this. he was as slimy as all vigilantes were, and always backed his wayward heroism with efficient street fight and honed martial arts, plus the incredible heights of his wisdom. so this? midoriya walking willingly to a police station? this means trouble.

“eri’s taken,” midoriya says, voice quiet and tired but so so scared. they don’t even know who eri was or what were her connections with midoriya, but both aizawa and tsukauchi are moving up to assist midoriya in his plans.

turns out eri’s their kid’s sister/daughter...what?

but she was captured by low ranking LoV members (not official LoV, but more like their underlings.) it took great effort from both aizawa and tsukauchi to stop their kid from setting the villains on fire.

so with eri saved and the LoV underlings captured, they all had to acknowledge that midoriya must be taken to custody.

“look kid-” tsukauchi begins, but midoriya cuts him off.

“after what happened today, i think i rather be taken away than have eri be taken by villains again. look, just promise me that eri would have a good education and good family, ok? and a good house. the one with vast gardens because her quirk is a blessing and she loves to make flowers bloom and i swear to god if you guys do any less for eri, i will personally escape any hole you put me into and cut off your-”

“KID! damn you talk so much, you know that?” aizawa asks, huffing loudly but the way his lips crinkle in a suppressed smile shows that he’s not mad but amused, “we’re not taking you away.”

a heartbeat. “what?” midoriya croaks out, hands embracing eri a little tighter. eri, bless her, is quiet as she watches her extra two dads(?) talk to her brother.

tsukauchi sighs but smiles kindly. “kid– midoriya-kun, we’re not locking you up. there are many laws that could send you to juvenile detention centres, but the fact that you’re quirkless kind of protects you from that. what we’re offering though, for both you and your sister, is protection,” he explains.

“and family,” aizawa grunts from beside him.

tsukauchi nods at that. “and family.”

“...excuse me but what?”

aizawa chuckles lowly, shaking his head at midoriya. “midoriya, i’m offering you to be my kids.”

“WHAT?”

“well i mean i had to beat fukukado, but yeah.”

“FUKU- MS. JOKE? WHAT?”

all the while, eri giggles at her brother’s expense.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 13 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Spencer finally meets Reader’s roommate while the two prepare for a picnic. After Spencer lectures Reader on the dangers of the outdoors, the two face a different kind of danger at the bank.

Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader 
 Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Gun violence mention Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

Although I’d been inside (Y/n)’s apartment several times now, I couldn’t say I’d ever actually looked much at my surroundings. It felt strange to admit that, mostly because I felt like I was doing something wrong; like I was a traitor to my job.

But then again, it felt worse to try to profile her. The few times I had made it obvious, she had made it very clear it was unappreciated. I could understand why.

So, before we even got to her door, I tried to quiet the voices screaming in my head, telling me to look for clues to all the unknowns about her. It wasn’t because I was expecting her to be hiding anything; I just wanted to know everything about her.

I could simply wait for her to tell me, though. We had all the time in the world, right?

“Laura, I’m home!” She called out immediately after breaching the entrance, following the exclamation with a very hurried request. “Spencer is here so please don’t be weird!”

The response was a calm, steady series of footfalls down the hall. The girl stuck her head around the corner, peeking at the two of us with a devilish grin.

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Reid.”

I told myself I probably shouldn’t be this nervous. If she was friends with (y/n), she was most likely a decent person. But let’s just say women around that age had never been particularly kind to me. They brought to the surface a lot of memories I’d tried very hard to bury.

She didn’t put her hand out to shake, which told me they’d already probably talked about me more than I’d have liked. ‘Wait,’ I thought to myself, ‘Is it okay to profile her roommate?’

“I’m going to go get a basket together. Wait in the living room, my kitchen is a disaster.”

Before I could argue, she had already disappeared, leaving me stranded in the hallway with her roommate who looked ready to cause trouble. I just hoped it wouldn’t the kind that revolved around me.

She waved a hand in front of her, motioning for me to make my way into the living room. Once we were there, she immediately took a seat, but I remained standing. Felt better to be able to escape.

The silence was awkward and suffocating. I could feel her staring at me, but she wasn’t saying anything. It felt wrong to look back.

“She says you read people for a living.” Her voice had a hint of skepticism in it I’d grown used to. “Sounds kind of like what psychics say.”

“Yeah, we use a lot of the same strategies, too. They just aren’t as honest about it as we are.”

“What do you see here?”

That was what got me to turn around and face her. She looked so comfortable, curled up on the couch.

“Pardon me?” The question caught me off guard, even though it shouldn’t have. I’d heard it so many times.

“What does our apartment say about us?” She asked, clearly not understanding why it was an inappropriate thing to ask. Or more likely, just didn’t care. Curiosity is a powerful thing.

I cleared my throat before looking back away and saying, “I agreed not to profile (y/n).”

“Well, can you at least tell which stuff is hers?”

I’m sure she was just checking to see if I was legitimate or just scamming her. Maybe she was checking to see if I was too good at it.

She didn’t need to worry. (Y/n) could handle herself. She wasn’t tricked easily. In fact, most of my intrigue and concern surrounding her unknowns was just how good she was at hiding things.

It wasn’t until I had registered that question and was staring at her walls with a newfound sense of purpose, that I realized how little I knew about her past. Then again, I don’t really care about her past.

It had made her who she was today, and that was the woman I loved.

My fingers brushed over old, cracked plastic on DVD cases displayed on a shelf beside the console center.

I didn’t even notice I was smiling at first, realizing that she’d kept the physical cases despite all the streaming services. She clearly still used the discs, too.

“These... are hers.”

“How can you tell?” The response in the form of a question told me I was right, and only made me feel even more deeply. Despite my greatest efforts to not look so excited by something so silly, I turned back around with my lips still curled in an awkward smile.

“Educated guess. Adrenaline.”

“What?” The confusion in her voice reminded me that she wasn’t aware of one of my deepest personality flaws.

“Research shows that only about 10% of the population are so called ‘adrenaline junkies,’ people who enjoy roller coasters and horror movies. It’s more often men than women, but it’s hard to tell because of the way we’re socialized.”

If I had turned around to face her, I probably would have seen the dead stare she was giving me during my rant.

“Regardless, people tend to either love horror or hate it. So, I considered the fact that (y/n) seems to enjoy things like... sneaking into bars with fake IDs and… other risky behavior.”

Well, that was close.

“But what really gave it away was the fact they’re not dusty, which means they’re still being used despite all of these movies being available on streaming services I know for a fact she uses. Considering how patient she is with my own Luddite tendencies I just figur—“

“Wow.”

The word cut off my train of thought, and I realized that I had barely breathed since I’d started. Wincing in response to the dumbfounded look on the poor girl’s face, I gave a nervous chuckle.

“Sorry. I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“A little bit,” she said with her own little pity laugh. I’m sure (y/n) had told her enough about me that this wasn’t that big of a surprise.

“I do that when I’m nervous.”

“You shouldn’t be nervous,” she said like it was the easiest advice in the world, “You’re right about her, you know.”

Staring down at my feet, I wondered why the confirmation from her roommate meant so much to me. I hadn’t been actively trying to figure out things about my girlfriend — it felt wrong. But for whatever reason, knowing I had the ability to figure it out meant more when it was about her.

Laura laughed again, craning her neck to look around the corner before she quietly spoke. “She says it was the other way around, but she’s the one who convinced me to streak the lawn.”

Ah, the age-old tradition of UVA students. It was so easy to picture her stripping down to nothing in the dead of the night to prance down the length of manicured grass. My own personal little pixie.

If it was just an attempt to calm my nerves, it was working. Putting the focus back on (y/n) was a surefire way to bring out the best in me. She just had that effect on me.

“I am entirely unsurprised by this information,” I said before walking over to the other side of the room, noting the distinct lack of pictures of family among the shelves that clearly belonged to her.

Don’t read into it, I told myself, she might just keep them somewhere else.

“She also drank an entire water bottle of vodka during a full day of classes one time, just because I bet that she wouldn’t.”

I scoffed at the image of her drunk. It’d been a while since I’d seen her like that, and both times had been remarkably unique. She’s a dead giveaway; I was surprised she hadn’t been caught.

“I can’t say I relate to that,” I sadly admitted. Sometimes it was hard to realize that if I’d known her at the same age, we probably wouldn’t have gotten along. I used to hate people like that.

Granted, they had usually also hated me.  

“She did mention you were a genius or something. I kind of figured. That’s her type.”

Well, that was information I couldn’t just gloss over. I furrowed my brow with a disbelieving smile, finally looking at the girl who was avidly watching my every move.

“Is it? I always pictured her with someone with more… Kinaesthetic intelligence.”

She gave me that look people give me when I said something weird, but continued nonetheless, “I don’t really know what that means, but she takes school pretty seriously. Honestly, probably a little too much. Part of why I dared her.”

“It’s strange to imagine her in class.” I hadn’t meant to say it, but once it was out there, I couldn’t take it back. And I was glad I couldn’t, because I was very curious about the answer.

“She’s the girl who knows all the answers and shuts down all the stupid guys trying to talk over her.”

I knew that those behaviors weren’t exactly favored in classrooms, having myself been the one at the brunt end of the bullying that followed.

“It’s pretty impressive.” She was being genuine when she spoke, and I was inclined to agree. At the same time the thought crossed my mind, I found a picture of her perched on the lap of the Thomas Jefferson statute.

God, I loved that girl.

“I bet she is.”

Almost on call, (y/n) poked her head into the room with wary eyes, looking at me as I awkwardly waved before looking back to her roommate.

“Laura, are you being weird?”

The girl rolled her eyes, but didn’t respond. Instead, she turned to me like it was my question to answer. Afraid to spoil any tenuous, newly formed loyalties, I shook my head no.

“Okay…” She only barely accepted my answer, “But if you say some dumb shit and get arrested, I’m not bailing you out.”

Briefly sticking out her tongue as she walked past me, she continued on her way. I couldn’t help but give that lovestruck, idiotic grin I always gave when she was around. If you’d told me I would’ve ever felt like this about someone who felt the same about me, I wouldn’t have believed you. Part of me still didn’t believe she could ever love me the same as I loved her.

Turning back to the girl cringing at the blatant intimacy shared in a simple glance, I immediately became awkward again.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t bring my handcuffs.” I joked, showing my hands in a strange display of innocence.

She… took a different approach.

“I know for a fact she has a few pairs in her room if you need one.”

A high-pitched whine nearly escaped my throat at the casual mention, and I cleared my throat and turned to look at her with a very unconvincing laugh. “W-what?”

“You have to know it’s impossible for her to keep her sex life a secret,” she droned with a bored expression, “I live one room over.”

“Right,” I nodded.

There was an extended, never ending silence as she just let me stew in my own discomfort. It didn’t seem to bother her one bit, because the longer I avoided her eyes the more she seemed to smile.

“I’m uncomfortable.” I finally admitted, and she just shook her head, running her hand through her hair before giving me one final hard look.

“You’re sweet. You make her happy. I appreciate that.”

My mouth scrunched in a humble half-smile, my hands finding their way back into my pockets as I tried to consider the reality I’d found myself in. Of all the infinite possibilities, I got to exist in the version of the world where I loved a girl who loved me back.

“It’s all her,” I finally said with a voice that crackled far too much for my liking, “I don’t do anything. I’m just the lucky one she decides to keep around.”

Laura flashed an approving grin, but then got up when she heard the familiar, happy feet beating down the hallway. (Y/n) burst out from around the corner, her arms full with a picnic basket and a blanket she clearly owned for just these occasions.

“Ready to go, babe?”

“Lead the way.”

I’d have followed her anywhere.

—————————————————

It was the perfect time of year for a picnic, despite Spencer’s insistence that there was no such thing. Once we were in the park, his whining dramatically decreased. Maybe it was the sunshine, or maybe it was the smile on my face, but he was certainly in brighter spirits.

He even let me rest my head on his lap, his legs crossed underneath me while he alternated between staring off at the trees slowly losing their color to autumn and my quiet contentment as I nibbled on an assortment of fruits.

There was no awkward silence or hidden darkness in this day, and even the sweetest strawberry couldn’t be more refreshing. To be here with Spencer, soaking in the late Summer sun, was all I could ever ask for.

But I was also eager to take advantage of the uncharacteristic softness between us. It wasn’t often we could share moments like this. Between his job and all our problems over the past few months, I wasn’t sure when we could be like this again.

“Let’s talk about something fun.” I blurted out, earning an intrigued look from my boyfriend. He readjusted his position, leaning back on his hands so he could look down at me easier.

“Okay, like what?”

“Don’t make fun of me…” The way he was looking at me gave me no hope he would actually listen to me, but I continued anyway, “I have conversation starters I looked up.”

He snorted while trying to suppress his chuckle. “Of course you do.”

Dropping my mouth open, I reached up to lightly smack him on the face for immediately doing exactly what I had asked him not to.

“What? Like you’re the epitome of sociable, Dr. Reid?”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to stop the laughter that kept bubbling in his chest over something that was decidedly not that funny at all. We were just that stupid kind of happy where everything was wonderful.

“I’m just not surprised!” He reminded, then nodded for me to continue, “Go on, tell me one.”

“Tell me something you’re scared of.” I shot back, excited to hear the answer.

“The dark.” It was the most anticlimactic, stereotypical answer I could have imagined. It was my turn to scoff now, hardly believing the answer to be real.

“Seriously? You’re an FBI Agent, Spencer.”

“You told me not to make fun of you, but then you make fun of me? Unfair. I didn’t sign up for this scrutiny.” His legs started to move under me as he pretended like he was about to dump me from his lap and leave me here.

“Fine!” I shouted, reaching my hands up to grab his face. Although they fumbled awkwardly from my strange position, he took the time to lean to the side and kiss my palm lightly. “Favorite memory of the two of us.”

He blew out a long breath, his eyes squinted like they always did when he was in deep contemplation. But something told me something actually jumped straight to his mind, but he was holding it back for some other reason.

“That’s not fair. There are too many.”

I wasn’t falling for it. I flicked his nose before pulling my hand back, smiling at the way he jerked away like it actually hurt him. Giant baby.

“No cop out answers, old man. Favorite one!”

Spencer just sighed, letting his head fall back as he actually thought about what he was about to say for once in his life. I took the brief moment without his scrutiny to reflect on just how lucky I was to be able to see him like this.

“Okay. So, remember when we went to the bakery in Downtown?” He asked like I could have forgotten.

“Pauls? Yes, I remember.”

They’re legends in the area, but a total pain to try and get. You have to get there first thing in the morning and wait in a ridiculous line. But they were always worth it. Spencer had told me he’d never been, and I just couldn’t let such an injustice stand.

“While we were waiting in that ridiculous line, I remember looking at you and just seeing how excited you were for a donut, even at 7 in the morning.”

“That’s objectively the best time for a donut.” I interrupted with the most matter-of-fact tone I could emulate.

“Right,” he laughed, recalling how I kept reminding him of that fact while in line, “Well, we got to the front and before I could even talk, you had already ordered one for me.”

It took me a second to remember exactly what had happened. So much had happened since then, the memories were becoming muddled in my mind. But once I did remember, I smiled.

“Chocolate frosted with sprinkles. For the child in us all.”

“That’s it.” His voice had gotten soft so quickly, his hand brushing over my cheek while he played with the strands of hair blowing back over my face. “That’s my favorite memory.”

If I didn’t make a joke of it soon, I was scared my heart would burst.

“Really? That’s your favorite memory? Of all things?” I asked with a playful grin, clasping both of my hands around his and holding it against my chest.

“Yes.” For a man of so many words, it meant so much more when he spoke so little. You could feel the truth in the way the sound hit your ears.

Even as I bit on the inside of my cheeks to withhold my excited giggle, he was looking at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Spencer, that’s so lame.”

In that way he always did, he so charmingly replied, “How fitting for us.”

“Rude,” I muttered, finally finding the strength to sit up from my position on his lap. The world only spun for a second as I reoriented myself. He seemed equally grateful, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“What else do you want to make fun of me for?” Spencer said with a smile, watching as I reached into the small basket and pulled out a small clementine. I ran through the questions in my head, trying to decide which one to spend our limited time on.

“Okay,” I decided, “What did you think the first time you saw me?”

His face scrunched up with the leftover embarrassment from our very first meeting, during which the first thing he had ever done to me was lie. It had been a flattering one, though.

As I popped a section of the small citrus fruit into my mouth, I noticed the way he licked his own lips. The sight caused butterflies to flurry in my stomach, and I wondered which was more appealing to him; the mouthwatering scent of oranges or the idea of slipping something else between my lips.

“I thought... that you were beautiful and intriguing. And I was right.”

I got my answer to my preceding thought, because he had quickly wrapped his hand around the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss with crushing force. For someone who wasn’t the biggest fan of public displays of affection, he certainly didn’t mind kissing me like this.

Despite how deep and hard it was, it ended far too quickly. I sucked on my bottom lip as he left, staring up at him with wonder and devoted attention.

“Why was I intriguing?”

He clearly hadn’t thought that far ahead, probably hoping that the kiss alone would distract me from asking any more questions about that night. Unable to get out of it now, though, he just shrugged with a nervous chuckle, “You... were looking at me?”

My laugh, on the other hand, was full bodied as I pushed him away from me with just enough force that he actually almost toppled over.

“That was it? Because I looked at you?”

It seemed so silly, but I could tell by the way he responded that he meant it. He had told me before, on that night actually, that he wasn’t used to women showing him attention. But surely, he must just be missing it. He was an amazing man.

“I don’t know. There’s just something about you.” He paused between his words, taking a deep breath before attempting to work through his thoughts, “Like... like things just revolve around you. You have this intense gravitational pull that just told me that I had to get closer to you or I wouldn’t be able to survive.”

Fighting back the blush quickly forming on my cheeks, I struggled to maintain my typical aloof nature. I couldn’t have him getting a swelled head just because he could string together a couple cute sentences.

“Are you calling me a star, Dr. Reid?”

“I guess I am, yeah.” He hit me back with that confidence he rarely displayed outside of our play. I loved to see it like this. It made me feel like I was actually with him, rather than any manicured person he’d created to suit the needs of the current situation.

“If you felt that strongly about it, then why lie and say you weren’t checking me out? I could’ve left, you know.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Yeah, but I thought about it.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. There had been a couple of times during that night that I almost cut my losses—admitted that we were just too different to ever be compatible. Thank god I’d ignored that flawed instinct.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you. Have you looked at your boyfriend? I’m so weird.”

The ease with which he flouted his eccentricities brought a smile to my face, and I shook my head as I tried to fight back in his defense. “You’re not that weird.”

“Are you joking? Look at yourself. You’re—You’re normalcy personified! No, actually, you’re not even that. You’re this... beautiful, smart, talented young girl and I’m just an old man who’s hoping to keep you around long enough that you forget you have better options out there.”

The longer he spoke, the more my jaw dropped open. Eventually, I had devolved into a fit of laughter.

“Dr. Reid, you can’t seriously be telling me that you think I am out of your league!”

“I mean—!” he started, but I wasn’t going to allow him to even entertain the thought. I clapped my hand over his mouth, nearly climbing onto his lap to hush any noises he attempted to make.

“No way!” I shouted, “Shut up!”

Instead of trying to wrench my hand away, his hands came to rest on my hips. I could feel the smile spreading across his cheeks under my fingers.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Spencer. Fucking FBI Agent with three PhDs. Get out of here.”

He began bouncing his leg under me, and when I looked down to see what he was doing, I was shocked to feel a wetness on my palm. Ripping my hand away, I looked at my hand to see the swipe of saliva over the skin.

“Did you just fucking lick me?!” I screeched, unable to comprehend what had just happened, staring at my boyfriend with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I touched the ground with this hand! What are you doing?!”

“Yeah, I’m definitely going to rinse my mouth with bleach when we get home. But it was worth it, to see that look on your face.”

He went to wipe his own face, but I still couldn’t get over the fact my hand was fucking wet. So I took my hand once more, wiping the residue of his own spit back over his cheek. Surprisingly, he just let me do it, laughing as he only slightly tilted his head back.

“Nasty old pervert,” I joked, rolling my body off him and sitting on own once more.

“You’re very mean when you’re nice to me.” Spencer pouted.

I was distracted, trying to get my hair to stay out of my face and mouth as the wind started to whip through the park. Still, I managed to say a few very important words of warning.

“Yeah, well, get used to it, bud.”

Taking pity on my obvious distress, he reached out to grab my arm, tugging me back over to him. “Come here, little girl.” he instructed while I crawled over on all fours to sit between his legs.

I was going to ask him what he was planning when I felt his hands begin threading through my hair. I sat patiently, recognizing the pattern he was weaving.

“... When did you learn how to braid hair? Did your mom teach you?”

“My mom has short hair.” It was an evasive, but truthful answer, so I didn’t press it. I was sure I would find out more about his family as time went on. I just had to keep reminding myself that we had all the time in the world to get to know each other.

“I never learned how to braid hair specifically. I’m just applying the same pattern I would with a knot or a puzzle.”

“How romantic.” I gasped, tucking my hands between my legs as I enjoyed the way it felt for him to play with my hair.

It was always bizarre, to consider the way he could be so soft in moments like this. Or rather, that he could be so far the opposite at other times. In my heart, he was always the kind, goofy man I had met that night at the bar.

But I’d seen him angry, depressed, and in pain. I’d seen him desperate and scared. Basically, the only way I hadn’t seen Spencer Reid was however he was at work. Part of me wished that I could; it was obvious he was good at it and, to a certain degree, enjoyed it.

Then again, when I know he does things like get shot at, it makes it a little bit harder to be interested in. I couldn’t imagine getting that phone call one day while they loaded him into the back of an ambulance... or worse.

“Ah, the things I do for love.” His calm, smooth voice tore me from the destructive thoughts and back into his warm embrace.

“Hey, Spencer, I have a serious question.”

“Well, that’s terrifying.” He joked, holding out his hand for my hair tie, which I happily gave him. I hated to admit that he did a better job at braiding my hair than I’d ever done. Freaking stupid genius stuff.

“When do I get to say it back?”

I swear, I felt a chill spread through the air between us. His entire body froze, his hands stuck mixed with the elastic as he tied off the braid.

It was an intense, unwelcome flashback to the second night I’d spent with him, when we had talked about things too serious, too soon.

Terrified, I immediately cut off anything he might have been able to say, muttering, “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

Letting my hair slip from his fingers, he let his hand drag along my spine. I wished I could see the look on his face, but I didn’t dare turn around.

“I’m sorry.” He said after another moment of silence, and it physically pained me the way the words fell from his lips.

“Don’t apologize,” I said in the cheeriest tone possible, trying to lighten the mood, “I just wanted to test the waters.”

With that, I spun around dramatically, noting the way his face lit up once it saw the smile on my own. “And they are frozen solid!”

He laughed at the enthusiasm I displayed, swiftly throwing his arms around me in a tight embrace.

“Well, I’ll just have to warm you up, then.” My whole body in his arms, he yanked me off the ground and onto himself. I struggled playfully under his arms, not paying any attention to the other people in the park watching our childish antics.

“Hypothermia is very dangerous, after all,” he lectured, “Let me take your temperature.” Burying his face in my neck, I felt the familiar overstimulation that accompanied frantic, light touches of my sides.

“Stop!” I burst with laughter, “You’re tickling me!”

The movements all halted, but only to be followed with a terrifyingly devious tone of Spencer’s voice. “You’re ticklish?”

“Don’t you dare—”

“Oh, I love this information.” And just like that, he began his onslaught. His fingers danced over every inch of my sides, his lips pressing quick, frenzied kisses against the underside of my chin. The harder I laughed, the more he continued.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” I screeched like a banshee, trying to slip from his hands or turn around—anything to get the upper hand again.

After nearly wrestling him, I managed to get both hands on his shoulders and shove him back against the blanket. The force with which we hit the ground knocked the air from his lungs, and he groaned at my body weight on his chest.

“Okay, okay! You win!” He yelled, holding his hands in front of me while struggling not to touch the ground with his head. “I’m not risking more surface area of contact with the ground to fight you.”

“(Y/n) emerges victorious!” I grabbed hold of both of his hands, shaking his arms with all my leftover adrenaline while I cheered myself on.

“Dork,” he muttered under his breath before he grabbed my sides, laughing at the way I instinctually jerked. I threw myself off of him to avoid the potential tickles, landing clumsily next to him. And Spencer, being the genius, recognized it as the perfect opportunity to pin me against the ground.

Wasting no time, he pressed the same instruments which had begun the great tickle war against my own lips. My hands found their way to his cheeks, pulling him closer as his tongue easily found mine. Just like it always did with us, it felt like the world was disappearing around us.

All I could feel, smell, taste, think, was Spencer Reid. His love and admiration flowed from him with ease, and I was happy to take it in. After a few minutes, we had to break apart. We might like a little bit of exhibitionism, but I was pretty sure neither of us actually wanted to tear the other’s clothes off in a park.

Could you imagine if people knew he was an FBI Agent? I was sure they already thought our age gap strange. But I didn’t care what they thought. Because right now, we were happy.

“I’m the dork you love, though.” I whispered against his lips.

“Indubitably,” he mumbled back, starting to laugh at the way the word sounded in our teenage love-like delirium.

“Now who’s the dork.” I teased as I smoothed my hands over his shoulders.

“Hm. Still you. And a little bit me, too.”

Laughter was bursting from me again.

“You have grass in your hair, idiot.” Before he could do anything about it, my hands were all over it, ruffling his hair wildly out of place. He just squeezed his eyes shut, letting me ruin any semblance of maturity or control from his appearance.

“Wow. Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.” I chirped, accepting the small peck he gave me before he started to retreat from his spot above me.

“You ready to head home?”

“Yeah, just about,” he sighed like it was a terrible thing to do. He hadn’t even wanted to come on this picnic!

“I promised to check you for ticks, after all.”

Ah, the real thing we were both looking forward to. Although, I was sure he was going to take it way too seriously for a few minutes before we devolve into sex on the bathroom floor.

“Mmm. I’m thrilled.” I replied honestly, struggling to sit up now that my body had already slipped into Spencer Reid is on Top of You mode. It was one of those rare moments when I wondered if there really was a female version of blue balls, because I was almost certain I had it.

“I have to stop at the bank first, though. I’ll go throw this stuff in the car and we can just walk over.”

“Sure thing, old man.” I huffed as I stood up, holding the much lighter basket while he collected the blanket. Once he took it all from me, I glanced over at the nearby bench with a pout.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“You’re cute,” he smiled, kissing my cheek like it were a more serious goodbye, “I’ll be right back.”

While I waited for him, I cautiously watched the large, dark clouds rolling over the horizon. They threatened to swallow the sunshine that we’d basked in less than hour before. I tried not to think anything of it.

It wasn’t a metaphor; it wasn’t an omen. It was just the weather.

Spencer must have seen the anxiety, because when he came back, he gingerly placed his arms around me from behind, resting his head on my chin.

“I guess we have good timing. It looks like it’s about to storm.” I absently spoke, my eyes still fixed on the sky.

“Yeah, typical finicky Virginia weather, I guess.”

I wasn’t sure if I actually heard it in his voice or made it up, but I swore Spencer was also trying to stop himself from thinking something of the rain. I was probably just being paranoid. It was just a storm. They happened.

“Well, let’s get going so you can cash your check in person like an eighty year old man.” I joked, grabbing his hand and dragging him back towards the exit to the park.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration. There are other people my age who don’t trust cell phone banking transactions.”

“Are there, though?”

He just shook his head, deciding it wasn’t worth it to get into it with me. Typical young kids, he must have thought, so irresponsible. But he didn’t say it, just held my hand on the short, quiet walk to the ornate building on the corner of two busy streets.

I swung our hands dramatically back and forth, earning an unamused, but still playful, glare from him.

“Your age is showing,” he pointed out before licking his lips and avoiding my eyes. I glared right back before responding, “Your stick-in-the-mud-ness is showing.”

“Not a word. Not a phrase. Not a thing.”

He stopped our hands dead in their tracks as he crossed the threshold, and for a second, I thought he was going to seriously be a spoilsport. But right when I least expected it, he swung our hands again and I nearly smacked into another person.

We both laughed, with me blurting out a frantic, “I’m sorry!”

“So immature,” he chastised, shaking his head with disapproval.

“I can’t believe you. You are such an asshole!”  

The familiar hum and beeping of the metal detectors threatened to dislodge memories from the back of my mind, and I shook my head to try to get rid of them again. Spencer glanced over with concern but didn’t mention it.

I was grateful. I didn’t want to talk about it. Once we had passed security, he settled into the line like he’d done it a million times before. But me, being a normal person who used my banking app to cash checks, felt strangely out of place.

Figuring it might be a minute, and that the ride home would be significantly longer, I decided to go get any residual dirt and grass out of my hair. After all, it would get in the way of our tick searching activities.

“Hey, I’m gonna run to the bathroom. Don’t go anywhere.” I pointed an accusing finger at him as my arm slipped from around his. His hand followed me until he couldn’t hold on any longer, an innocent, lovesick smile on his face.

“You know I could never leave you behind.”

As cheesy as it was, it still made me smile. My heart ached with the saccharine sweetness of his affections. I’d gotten so used to them so fast; I couldn’t even imagine a world without them anymore.

“Don’t miss me too much, Dr. Reid.”

“You know I will, little girl.”

That storm cloud feeling was brewing in my chest again as I pressed a kiss to my fingers, blowing it across the ever-growing distance between us. Why did he feel so far away so suddenly?

I tried not to pay it any mind, humming You Are My Sunshine and imagining Spencer’s terrible singing voice instead. Looking at my reflection, I realized why my cheeks had been getting sore. Because there, staring back at me, was a smile on a neutral face.

I don’t even know when it happened, but it hit me in that bathroom of a bank at 12:47pm on a Saturday that I had fallen madly in love with Spencer Reid. And it suddenly made sense, why he didn’t want me to say it yet. Because I hadn’t realized it yet.

But now I had, and it filled every cell in my body. The blush on my cheeks was evidence of just how much I needed to let it out, to scream it from the rooftops, or at least in the lobby of this old bank.

There were so few things that could overwhelm the emotions I was feeling and rob me of this moment. My brain rioted against any sign of darkness or despair, clinging to the hope that I would be able to tell him soon.

So, when explosive booms rang through the bank, for a long second, I tried to convince myself they were thunder.

But they weren’t. The storm had indeed come, but it wasn’t responsible for the sounds that caused my heart to tear in two and shatter against the floor. The people outside the room were not screaming at the wrath of God, displayed with lightwork in the sky.

It was not thunder.

They were gunshots.

 —————————————————

| Part 14 |

[ellewriteswrongs]

spring and a storm - prinxiety

3.1k words

ao3 / ko-fi / previous work

summary: very very fluffy prinxiety boardwalk date (prompt: "dancing while you walk”)

cw: food, brief ocean mention, swearing

Virgil was regretting everything. 

Okay, maybe not everything but he was certainly not having the ‘grand old time’ his boyfriend had assured him they’d be having. 

“How was I supposed to know you wouldn’t like the aquarium?” Roman wanted as they walked down the sidewalk away from said aquarium. “I mean, how? Do you just hate fish? Is that what this is?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“I don’t hate fish, Princey,” he grumbled, kicking pebbles as they walked like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. “I hate enclosed spaces, and the dark, and the ocean, and you know that already.”

“You like sharks,” Roman countered, apparently still trying to defend his choice of date location. 

“Yeah ‘cause sharks are fucking baller,” he agreed, getting a short laugh out of both of them. “But I’d still rather not see them right in front of my face, thank you very much.”

Roman chuckled and slung an arm over his shoulders. 

“Don’t tell that to my brother or you’ll wake up tomorrow morning with a shark carcass rotting in bed beside you,” he smirked.

Virgil snorted.

“Hmm, would I rather wake up next to you and your horrific morning breath…or a rotting shark carcass?” Virgil teased. “I might have to go have a little chat with Remus after all.”

Roman scoffed, feigning offense as they wandered through his Imagination recreation of the Tampa coast. 

“You hungry?” Roman eventually asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence while they walked. Virgil shrugged. 

“As long as it’s not seafood,” he smirked, shrugging Roman’s arm off of his shoulders to take his hand instead. 

“You say that like I can’t make you literally whatever you want,” Roman countered, leading them towards the boardwalk. The wooden pier was lined with food stands, tourist merchandise, and vendors selling fishing gear, each with plenty of Imagination citizens milling around. “Funnel cakes?”

Virgil’s eyes lit up. 

“Oh hell yeah,” he smiled, walking a bit closer to Roman as they headed down the boardwalk and were almost immediately surrounded by people. 

There was music playing from speakers mounted onto the lampposts, a detail that became painfully obvious to Virgil when his boyfriend practically started dancing down the wooden walkway. He swung their conjoined hands between them as his steps became more like a jovial waltz and Virgil was just about ready to sink out of the Imagination and go back to his room. 

“Would you cut that out? Jesus Christ, people are staring,” he hissed, using his free hand to pull his hoodie strings tight around his face. 

Roman chuckled, rolling his eyes. 

“These people aren’t even real,” he defended, lifting their conjoined hands to do a little twirl under them. 

“That’s not the point,” Virgil groaned, keeping his head down as much as he could. “The point, is that you’re embarrassing and I hate you.”

Roman laughed, bright and loud, and for just a moment Virgil considered letting it go just to make him happy. 

“You sure do have a way with words, darling,” he teased as they stopped in front of a dessert stand. Roman folded his arms around Virgil’s shoulders from behind, swaying slightly. “Can’t you just enjoy this lovely day we’re having, Patrick Grump?”

A short exhale of a laugh was all he needed to know. 

“Nope, I’m too busy being petty,” he whispered as Roman asked the vendor for a funnel cake to share. 

Roman hummed, leaning around him to plant a kiss on his cheek. 

“More like too busy being pretty.”

“Gross—“ Virgil tried to complain, his face bright red as he couldn’t help but laugh. “You are shameless, Princey.”

Another kiss was planted on his other cheek.

“Well, I was under the impression that that was the whole point of going on a date,” he teased coyly. “Unless, of course, you’d rather I sit here and bully you the whole time like you seem to want me to.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, plucking the plate of sugary goodness from the vendor’s hands and walking out of Roman’s embrace before turning over his shoulder to look back at him.

“Shut up, you dork.”

Roman just chuckled, ducking his head to hide his blushing face as he followed dutifully behind towards the bench further down the boardwalk. 

They sat down side by side facing the railing, a perfect aerial view of the shore below them. 

Virgil eagerly pushed up his hoodie sleeves before setting the plate down on the bench between them and immediately tearing off a big powdery bite. Roman leaned one arm against the back of the bench, leaning his head on his hand with a fond look before their sugary treat was being shoved into his mouth by the other man. 

He made a strangled sound of surprise before he laughed, a white puff of powdered sugar escaping from his mouth. Virgil doubled over in laughter, his eyes lighting up as he ultimately tore off a bite for himself, getting white powder all over his lips. 

When Roman finally stopped sputtering out puffs of sugar and contained himself enough to look up at the man beside him, he was met with a surprising sight. 

Virgil had one leg bent up on the bench, both arms folded over his knee with his chin resting on top. 

And for once that day, he looked like he had but a single care in the world. His shoulders were loose and relaxed, his eyes weren’t downcast and almost seemed to twinkle with laughter, and the smile on his sugar-coated lips was so far from forced, it was like it was completely foreign on his face. 

“What?” He chuckled, a bit shy for once. He slid his hand to rest against the back of his neck. 

Virgil gave a small smile, ducking his head for a moment in a movement that was almost bashful.

“Nothing, I just…” he paused, extending his arm along the back of the bench until it reached where Roman’s arm was leaning. He pinched the fabric of his sleeve between his thumb and pointer finger, rubbing at the hem. “Sorry I was…upset earlier. You did all this for us and I ruined it.”

He let his beautiful smile fall as he looked over at his hand.

“I didn’t mean to mess everything up, I…I hate when I just start being mean to you for literally no reason,” he huffed humorlessly, his other hand picking at the rips in his jeans. 

“Hey,” Roman interrupted before he could keep rambling, scooting closer and reaching out to place a hand against Virgil’s cheek, stroking it gently. “You didn’t ruin anything. The aquarium stressed you out and I’m sure the crowds didn’t help.”

He smiled, taking the hand that held his wrist and pressed his lips against the knuckles.

“I should’ve stopped and helped you calm down before we came out here, it’s on me,” he smiled softly, his hand sliding to curl around the back of Virgil’s neck. 

The other shook his head. 

“It’s not,” he muttered. “It’s not your fault, I…I need to get better about saying something when I need a break. It’s…hard. To admit I can’t handle this stuff on my own, I mean.”

“There’s no deadline to unlearn old habits, you know,” Roman continued, twirling the ends of Virgil’s hair with his fingers. “And as far as the teasing goes…” he quirked an eyebrow, “you know I dish out my fair share.”

Virgil finally seemed to snap out of it a bit at that, chuckling as he leaned into Roman’s hand. 

“I’m still sorry. I don’t know, I guess it just feels meaner today.” He mumbled, widening the rips in his jeans. “Sometimes I just worry that…that you’ll start to think I mean it. That if it gets out of control, one day I’ll end up back as the villain and-“

“Hey, hey, none of that, okay?” Roman cut him off, moving closer to cup both of his cheeks in his hands. Virgil didn’t look at him until Roman’s lips met his forehead. “I’m not letting you be sad today, it’s not allowed.”

Virgil chuckled, a bit of the dark black eyeshadow under his eyes fading back to just a light gray. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled shyly, shrugging off the hood of his sweatshirt. 

“Stop,” Roman drawled, cradling his love’s head in his hands. “Stormcloud, will you just trust me if I promise you that I am having a wonderful time with you. I’m not upset, not even a little bit.”

Virgil’s reached up to hold one of Roman’s hands to his face.

“Really?” He asked with a hint of annoyed disbelief. 

Roman exhaled a laugh. 

“No, I was joking. I actually hate you,” he spoke with a fond smile on his face. “I can’t stand spending literally all of my time with you. That’s why I beg you to come in here with me all the time, obviously. And of course I asked you out in the first place because I think you’re insufferable and—“

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll…I’ll work on the spiraling,” Virgil chuckled, brushing his hair out of his face.

“You don’t need to work on not spiraling,” Roman corrected, shaking his head exasperatedly. “Just talk to me. Or any of the others. I promise you, I wouldn’t hesitate to shut down anything that was too much for you, okay? You never have to worry that I’ll be upset with you.”

Virgil nodded mutely, still leaning into Roman’s hands that cupped his face. 

“Everything I do, I do for you, sunshine. I can’t exactly spoil you if all I’m doing is stressing you out.”

Virgil chuckled, rolling his eyes fondly. 

“You don’t have to spoil me, you know,” he countered, familiar with this argument. 

Now it was Roman’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he complained. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

“I mean, if you really wanted to spoil me, you’d take me t—“

“Virgil I’ve already recreated Warped Tour 2005 seven times this year and it’s only April!” 

“It was their best year!”

They kept going back and forth until both ultimately devolved into fits of laughter. It took a few minutes before they forced themselves to calm down and instead focused their efforts on finishing their snack before it grew too cold. 

“Is it getting late? I thought it was like two o’clock,” Virgil spoke up, glancing around at the slightly darkening sky. 

Roman chuckled slightly. 

“No, it is,” he smiled. “But you hate the sun.”

Virgil felt his cheeks heat up slightly. 

“I don’t mind it,” he argued, plucking a piece of their dessert and popping it into his mouth. “But you love the sun.”

Roman smiled, grabbing Virgil’s hand to press his lips to his knuckles. 

“I’ve already got you, sunshine,” he teased sweetly, earning a laugh out of his partner. “There’s no way the weather could ever top that.”

Virgil groaned, rolling his eyes fondly. 

“Sap.”

Roman beamed like he’d been called something much more complimentary. 

“Yeah, well,” he sighed, leaning his head into his hand. “If we don’t get to do this very often, then I reserve the right to make it count.”

Virgil opened his mouth to respond when a raindrop splattered on his nose and he froze. 

“You’re kidding,” he deadpanned, watching Roman’s giddy excitement. “Are you serious right now?”

Roman squealed, standing up from the bench and grabbing Virgil’s hands to pull him up as well.

“Please!” He begged dramatically, a wide smile on his face as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “Come on, stormcloud, I made this storm just for us.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and stood, following pliantly as Roman dragged him back across the boardwalk. The speakers playing jovial music were slightly distorted, but Roman seemed to have done it intentionally as he made the music play a bit louder. 

They walked hand in hand down the boardwalk, a light fall of rain cooling them both off from the hot summer weather. Roman’s heeled boots clicked as he walked, staggering his steps a bit as they weaved around the Imagination’s citizens. 

“Why are you like this?” Virgil grumbled, unable to keep the smile off of his face as his cheeks reddened in embarrassment. He aggressively kept his gaze away from any of the people around them. “I mean seriously, th—“

He cut himself off with a hiss, bumping into a person walking by as Roman laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 

“There are so many people here,” Virgil whined, using the arm around his shoulders to slink away from the crowds. 

Roman pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, stopping them both his free hand to wave away all of the crowds until they disappeared. 

“Better?” Roman asked, shuffling his feet in place. Virgil exhaled and nodded, moving closer to wrap an arm around Roman’s waist. 

However, Roman took the removal of their onlookers as permission to resume his dancing at full force. Virgil snorted a laugh, attempting to pull away from his boyfriend before Roman simply grabbed his hand instead. 

Roman swiftly spun him around as Virgil stumbled to a stop, sputtering out confused noises as Roman finishes the movement with a bow and a kiss to his knuckles. 

“Wow,” Virgil mused teasingly, smirking somewhat fondly. “Pulling out all the stops, huh?”

Roman hummed happily along with the music, clicking his feet as they walked along the wooden planks and swinging their conjoined hands. 

“Come on emo, join me,” Roman asked, pulling out his puppy dog eyes to seal the deal. Virgil rolled his eyes but continued watching fondly as Roman dropped his hand and began box-stepping circles around him as he walked. 

“In your dreams, Princey.”

“That’s true, it is,” he grinned, pausing only to blow an over-dramatic kiss to the other side. Virgil snorted, shaking his head exasperatedly.                            

“Dork.”

Roman paused his steps for a moment, the song playing around them changing. Virgil flushed under his gaze. 

"What?"

"Dance with me."

Virgil couldn't help but laugh, quirking a brow up

at his boyfriend.

"Are you joking?"

Roman's smile didn't move an inch.

Virgil narrowed his eyes.

"Roman, "Virgil warned, fighting back the urge

to let his own smile slip through.

"Please?"

And god, Virgil was nothing if not a sucker for that look.

He rolled his eyes but took both of Roman's hands nonetheless. The latter gave a delighted squeal, shaking out his rain-soaked hair until his curls bounced back. He began a fairly simple step sequence, moving them both from side to side to the beat of the music until he motioned for Virgil to twirl under his arm, which the other did with practiced annoyance. Roman, however, met him in the middle, slotting one hand in Virgil's and wrapping the other around his waist. Virgil stumbled slightly out of the turn and into their new position. 

He blinked up at Roman in surprise before his confusion became a light chuckle and he swiftly moved to wrap his free hand around the nape of Roman's neck. Roman's fond gaze softened, leaning down to steal a short yet sweet kiss.

"I see you're one step ahead of me," he smiled, excitement twinkling in his eyes. Their steps moved slowly, yet with practiced synchronicity. 

"You say that like you don't make me do this every time we're alone," he teased back. "I hate to break it to you, but I know all your tricks, Princey." 

Roman narrowed his eyes, challenging him. "Oh yeah?"

Virgil squinted back, flipping his grip to swiftly drop his boyfriend into a dip. He leaned in close, smirking at Roman's surprised, flustered face, their faces centimeters apart. 

"Oh yeah, baby,” he whispered as Roman gulped, a pink tint rapidly spreading down his face and neck. "That's vigilance for you."

Roman let out a breathless laugh as Virgil brought him back upright, resuming their rain dance. He had his eyes locked on Virgil's as they moved, allowing himself to get lost in the beauty of the man he loved; bags under his eyes, water dripping down his face, and every inch as perfect as he'd ever seen him.

Roman leaned their foreheads together, moving to wrap both hands around Virgil's sides as Virgil did the same around Roman's shoulders. 

"Thank you," he whispered, his breath brushing across Virgil's lips. 

Virgil's brow furrowed “You’re thanking me?" 

He spoke softly, searching Roman's face for answers. Roman gave a small smile.

"I don't know, I just feel like I should thank you," he continued shyly, leaning into Virgil's hands as they cupped his face. "You make me so happy, V. We have so much more work these days and I know you're so, so tired with all the new stuff with Nico and everything, but...you still make time to do things like this with me."

Virgil's gaze softened, his hand cradling Roman's neck and jaw as he stood up on the tips of his toes to press a kiss to the furrowed space between his brows.

"I love you, Ro. And no matter what, I will always take care of you, okay?" He watched as Roman closed his eyes, nodding as he leaned into Virgil's hand. "We're figuring this out together.”

Roman reached up to cover Virgil's hand, guiding it to press a kiss to his palm.

"God, I love you so much," he laughed breathlessly. "We can do this, I know it. Everything...everything else can crash and burn around us, but this-"

He cut himself off, stealing a desperate, bruising kiss.

"You," he breathed, almost gasping out his words. "I'll fight for you forever." 

Virgil exhaled with an exasperated smile.

"Dramatic ass, "he mumbled fondly. "I'd do anything for you."

"Shit," Roman chuckled, easing out of their dance stance to join hands once again, continuing to walk as normal. “We better not fuck this up, then."

“Well, I’m fucking trying at least,” Virgil smirked. “You’re not exactly making it easy.”

Roman let out an affronted gasp, rolling his eyes as they walked, swinging their conjoined hands. “How dare you, I am a delight.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he continued teasing. “The options are limited around here, you know.”

Roman snorted out a short laugh.

“Fine, no Warped Tour for the rest of the month.”

Virgil subsequently sputtered out a slew of nonsense as Roman devolved into delighted laughter, moving to sling his arm around Virgil’s shoulders. 

“How dare you? Now you’ve gone too far,” he ranted as Roman made zero effort to hide his pleased smile. 

“Nope,” he continued, popping the ‘P’ with a grin. “All of our edgelord mosh pit dates for the rest of the month will now be replaced with recreations of all of Thomas’ past performances since middle school and you can’t stop me.”

Virgil humphed and slid his hand into the back pocket of Roman’s jeans. 

“Fine, I’ll just ask your brother.”

And then was Roman’s turn to complain. 

[mc-lukanette]

Grade for Each Other (Part 8)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7]

Luka’d never had any sort of "fancy dinner experience," so seeing Tom and Sabine run around excitedly to prepare one was very new to him. His mother wasn't the type to follow any sort of schedule or pattern, which inevitably rubbed off on him and Juleka (for better or worse). Eating was something they just did, not something they planned for, often leading to any of them grabbing anything at any time so long as they were hungry.

It made him feel weirdly spoiled to have anything close to a "normal" family dinner. Having Marinette be part of the equation didn't help him feel otherwise, nor the way Tom and Sabine stared at him from across the table like they were his biggest fans.

He'd barely taken his first bite before Tom dropped his forearm casually onto the table and asked, "So, Luka, how's having our daughter in your class?"

"Papa!" Marinette rushed to scold him, mouth half-full as she pouted at Tom from across the table.

Luka chuckled, swallowing his bite of food before answering. He'd honestly expected something like this; after all, he was a boy spending a lot of one-on-one time with a girl, so suspicion - or excitement apparently, in Tom's case - was to be expected.

"It's alright," he assured Marinette. She gave him a confused look, but he merely turned his focus to Tom. "Marinette sits next to me in class. It's great."

"She sits next to you?" Sabine inquired, seemingly intrigued.

Marinette piped up, "Luka's a very good student and he doesn't get into trouble. The teacher thought it'd be best if I sit next to someone like him, and he was right."

She almost looked proud of that and Luka hid his smile behind his hand.

Tom picked up one of the rolls off to the side, offering it to Luka as he asked, "And you're in a band? You were here before Marinette skipped grades, weren't you?"

Luka nodded, taking the roll gratefully. "I play guitar for Kitty Section."

"He's really talented, Papa," Marinette cut in tersely. "He's going places, even if the rest of the band decides to quit."

Tom let out a laugh, waving at her dismissively. "I know, I know. We trust you."

Luka looked back and forth between the two, needing a moment to understand exactly what had just transpired. He'd spent so much of his life around his music-enthused mother that it hadn't occurred to him that people would question the life of a musician.

...Well, not to mention that Tom's wording made it seem largely like Luka himself was already dating Marinette, which had briefly thrown him off. Actually, Marinette's wording kind of implied that too and—

Luka nearly shoved the roll into his mouth to force himself not to think about it, only to then be blindsided by how good the bread was. He let out a pleased hum and Tom and Sabine's grins assured him that they got the message.

Sabine took a bite of her food, looking Luka up and down before asking, "You're passionate, right?"

"Yes, very," Luka assured. A moment then passed, with him trying not to let the realization show on his face that Sabine had meant music and not his relationship with Marinette when he'd been thinking about the latter just a few seconds ago.

At least his answer would've been the same regardless.

"See? That's the kind of spirit we like!" Tom exclaimed, throwing his hands up. When they enthusiastically slammed back down on the table, Luka saw his plate shake from the force. "Us Dupain and Chengs are all passionate about what we do! Why, the very start of our bakery was built on it, and—"

Luka welcomed the change in topic, nodding along as Tom rambled. It was clear who Marinette had gotten it from and Luka liked seeing how strongly people felt about the things they enjoyed. He supposed it was because the people he grew up with felt strongly about things in general, even if Juleka felt those things more internally.

The rest of dinner was spent in idle conversation, Luka answering the occasional probing question from either of Marinette's parents. He had nothing to hide and felt it important for them to know and trust him regardless of how close he was to Marinette. He'd already expected the food itself to be beyond what he was used to, given that he was dealing with bakers, but he was more thankful that the atmosphere they gave off - as weirdly overwhelming as it was - didn't make him feel judged or unwelcome.

All four of them were in the middle of cleaning up the plates, glasses, and cutlery when a sudden crack of thunder startled them. Luka glanced over at the window, seeing the raindrops that had gone unnoticed until now. He was surprised that such a storm would—

...Oh. He hadn't thought that his mother had meant it literally when she was talking about a storm. Or—maybe she didn't and it was just coincidence?

He was jarred out of his thoughts as Sabine took everything in his hands, stacking it on top of what she was already carrying. She frowned at the window, observing, "That would be dreadful to walk home in."

Luka managed a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me. I’ve done it before, and rain isn't—"

"You can't do that!" Tom protested. "You're going to make these two meddlers feel guilty if you go running out in the middle of a storm!"

Huh. So they were at least admitting to their meddling.

Sabine sighed, turning away to head to the sink. "We're sorry about this, Luka. Will you stay for the night?"

"Maman," Marinette interrupted, passing over the dishes she was carrying to Tom, "please don't pressure Luka into staying if he doesn't want to."

"We wouldn't want to pressure him into anything!" Tom insisted.

Marinette gave him a flat look and vaguely gestured to the plates. He proceeded to ignore her.

"We're worried about him catching a cold out there! Who will sit next to you in class if he's not there?" he asked with dramatic flair.

"Papa—!" Marinette cut herself off with a huff, apparently resigning herself on the matter.

Luka chuckled. "I'd love to stay. It wouldn't be any trouble?"

"Not at all!" Sabine replied. "You'll just need a place to sleep!"

Once she'd gotten everything into the sink, she turned to Tom with an urgent look, the two seeming to communicate wordlessly before racing off together. Marinette must've noticed Luka’s confusion at it, what with how she abruptly explained, "We have spare pillows and blankets for stuff like this. They're probably going to get them."

Then, with a sigh, she added, "I really am sorry about them."

"It just means that they like me," he replied, "so I'm happy."

"Really? Wait—" She squinted. "Did you think you'd say something that'd make them not like you?"

He shook his head, though amused at how shocked she seemed by the concept. "They're really open, like my mom is, and they trust you and who you pick out for friends, right?"

"Yeah. Well, a lot more now, especially." She paused, thoughtful. "Are you really okay with staying? I-I know you have your hood that could’ve protected you in the rain."

"Why would I mind being here with you?" he asked in reply, enjoying the way her cheeks tinted pink. "And I wouldn't want your parents to feel bad. They were the ones who asked me to stay for dinner in the first place."

The talk of family reminded him of Juleka. Pulling his phone out, he went straight for his contacts so he could text her to let her know that he wouldn't be coming home that day, remaining short on the details as she probably didn't want to hear anything extensive about Marinette at the moment.

Just as he'd slipped his phone back into his pocket, Tom and Sabine came barreling through the door like a pair of superheroes, arms full of pillows and blankets. Had Luka not been so skilled with sounds, he might've mistaken the slamming of the door for another crack of thunder.

"Marinette!" Tom shouted urgently. "The couch!"

Marinette jerked up, pointing to herself. "Wha—the couch? ...Oh!"

Luka had to step back as she rushed past him, the family of three seeming to be in sync as they began sorting various blankets and pillows onto the couch. He almost felt overwhelmed trying to watch all of their movements; Tom was unfolding and laying out the blankets, Sabine was efficiently fluffing out the pillows, and Marinette apparently had a problem with the appearance, insisting that one color had to go above the other and that any level of comfort worked better that way anyway.

"Luka," Sabine called out, stopping mid-fluff to glance up at him, "how do you like to sleep?"

He blinked at her cluelessly, having never thought of alternative sleeping positions in his life.

Seeing that she wasn’t getting an answer, Sabine turned her gaze to Marinette instead. "He said he plays guitar, right?"

Marinette nodded.

"...Back support then," Sabine concluded, Luka feeling somewhat called out as she adjusted the pillows accordingly.

He was left awkwardly standing there, simply observing as the three finished what they'd defined as "the perfect bed." He couldn't lie, it did look really perfect, and now he was left feeling spoiled again.

"Alright!" Marinette shouted the second they were done, making gestures at her parents. "Now, both of you, shoo!"

Even though it wasn't late enough to exactly sleep, the two relented, probably still feeling bad about making Luka stay longer even if they couldn't have known about the weather. They both gave Marinette a simultaneous cheek kiss on opposite sides of her face, then patted Luka on the back on their way out.

It was strange how they'd patted him with the exact same pressure despite their height difference. Luka supposed that they were just that in sync.

When he looked back at Marinette, she was still making tiny adjustments to his bed, her inner organizer somehow not satisfied until everything was perfectly aligned. He approached and admired her, particularly how adorable her focused face was. Though he knew it'd be pointless to try and tell her, he nonetheless insisted, "You don't have to go through all this effort for me."

"What if I want to?" she challenged with a smile, not looking at him due to being preoccupied with the bed.

He feigned a sigh. "Then I guess I have no choice but to take it."

She hummed smugly, in the process of smoothing out the blankets as she asked, "So, Luka, what do you want for breakfast in the morning?"

He wasn’t expecting the question. "What?"

"I'm sure Maman's going to ask me about it, or she'll just ask you if I tell her that I don't know," she explained. "What do you like?"

"Oh, I’m not picky," he assured, "and I don't need anything anyway. I don't usually have breakfast."

Marinette stopped mid-smoothing, her head darting up and staring at nothing. Finally, she made eye contact, even gaping at him. "You don't? B-but it's important!"

He grew apologetic under the intensity of her gaze, resorting to looking at the wall. "I used to make it for Jule when we were younger, but we stopped once she started feeling like I was playing too many of her notes for her." He shrugged, showing that he wasn't bothered by Juleka’s choice. "Besides, I like taking my time walking to school."

"...Oh."

Her tone worried him. He looked back, confirming that she seemed discouraged. "Marinette—"

"That's okay!" she cut in, standing and holding her hands up. She clearly realized that she'd been showing too much emotion and he’d caught onto it. "I'm just so used to it here but it's fine if that's not what you're used to! I know my parents can be a lot and I don't really help and I wasn't thinking of you at all—"

He reached up, grabbing her hands and gently saying, "Marinette, stop."

She halted mid-sentence, her mouth still hanging open as she stared at him.

"It's... you're right, it is a lot, but not in a way that's distorting my sound," he corrected.

She tilted her head in response, not understanding what he meant.

He struggled to find the words. "Things are so much different on the Liberty. We all love each other but I'm the most physical one there. My mom's okay with whatever we want to do and Jule doesn't think of me as someone to worry about - neither do my friends - so I'm not used to people checking on me."

"Y-you mean fretting over you," Marinette gently cut in with a pout.

He squeezed her hands. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"But..." She sighed, staring at the floor. "s-still, you shouldn't have to worry about what I said. I was just... fantasizing about having breakfast with you without thinking about what you'd want. I know that your lifestyle doesn't match up with mine."

He smiled softly, bending over to be more level with her. "If it's you, I'd like to get used to it."

She looked at him questioningly, but he could see the glimmer of hope in her eyes now.

"It's how you show that you care, and I want to get used to being fretted over, especially if it's you doing it."

Her brows rose in surprise. She looked away sheepishly, but he gave her however much time she needed to respond, noting that she wasn't feeling anything negative.

"...How—" She peeked up at him, though not turning her head fully to face him. "How about a compromise?"

"Hm?"

"I can make something for you—for us?" She pulled her hands out of his just so she could grab his hands in return, rotating them so his palms were facing upwards. "Something portable? And then we can walk to school together and eat at the same time. We can still take our time but you get to eat too."

He considered telling her that the Liberty was farther away than the bakery from their school, but he imagined that she already knew that. Plus, his heart was focused on something else.

"You'd make breakfast for me?"

"Of course!" she exclaimed, as if it were obvious. "I can't let my parents outdo me all the time!"

He tried to contain it, but the laughter was too hard to hold in. He hunched over in his giggling fit, only glancing up at her to ensure that she wasn't taking it the wrong way.

Thankfully, she was smiling at him, thoroughly amused.

Even after he'd managed to compose himself, the warm, bubbly feeling wouldn't leave him. "You're an extraordinary girl, Marinette."

Her smile widened. She pulled his hands to her chest, clasping them in her own. "Clear as a music note, sincere as a melody?"

His gaze softened, his heart skipping a beat that she'd remembered what he’d said so exactly. "The song that's been stuck in my head since the day that we met."

The blush that had started small bloomed further to that happy red color he loved so dearly. She took a breath, dropping his hands and fiddling with the corners of her jacket.

"And...if the breakfast thing works out," she began, "if you wouldn't mind stopping by the bakery on your way to school—"

"I wouldn't," he immediately reassured.

"—then we could do it all the time?" she asked hopefully. "Walking to school together and eating breakfast?"

He chuckled. "You call it a compromise, Marinette, but I just feel spoiled right now."

She stared at the floor, shrugging shyly. "B-but it's still even at least?"

He let out a confused hum, sure that she heard it by the way her gaze flicked up to him.

She raised her head back up, actually daring to wink at him. "Because I feel spoiled with you too!"

He opened his mouth to respond, but his words left him. It apparently wouldn't have mattered if he’d had anything to say anyway, as Marinette suddenly got even redder than before.

"A-AH, ANYWAY, I need to get ready for bed, it's late!"

It was absolutely not late, but Luka didn't stop her from rushing past him to head up the stairs. He knew very well that they were both probably feeling too much to have a proper conversation.

After she'd shut the trapdoor, he could vaguely hear her shouting - panicked but happy - to her kwami about how she "couldn't believe she just did that."

As for himself, he was already taking off his hoodie and jacket combo, the room spontaneously feeling too warm. He threw it to the side of the couch that was devoid of blankets, then sunk down onto his bed.

That was definitely flirting; it was the most blatant she'd ever flirted with him. Her wink wasn't even perfect but—

He buried his face in his hands, feeling the heat of his own blush against his palms. He needed to rethink his approach with her before she caught him off-guard again.

Not that he technically minded, but still.

[Part 9] [Part 10]

[hms-chill]

The Long Way

A nice fun Liam/Spencer fic, because these boys deserve the world.

Summary: (Alternately  titled “SOMEONE GIVE LIAM A HUG” or “Stronk Farm Boyfriends”)Liam’s  just finishing up vet school, and he’s a month shy of achieving the  thing he’s been working for since he was a kid. When he gets called out  to a farm to witness a calf birth and notices something wrong,  under-researched, and curable, it’s the perfect thing to treat and  document so he can write a paper that will jump-start his career. Of  course, the fact that the calf is owned by a cute dairy farmer doesn’t  hurt, either.

Chapter one // Chapter two // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // On AO3

Chapter 5

They climb out of the truck, and the sun is out, and Liam feels like a different person than he was when they got in. Somehow, it's like he's let all his questions, fears, and doubts fall away, shutting them up as he shuts the truck's door. Hopefully, they'll disappear into whatever void exists under and between car seats and never be seen again. Spencer and the picnic basket lead the way to a table, and Liam follows with his backpack slung over a shoulder. It's only once Spencer starts unpacking the picnic basket and urging him to eat that Liam realizes how hungry he is.

"Dude, have you eaten anything today?" Spencer asks. There's a hint of joke in his tone, but the foundation is worried.

"I... had breakfast, I think. One of the side effects of withdrawal was nausea, so I... it wasn't exactly motivating to eat, especially when it's just ramen again." That's supposed to be a joke, sort of, a play on the starving student stereotype. But Spencer just looks worried, and Liam scrambles to reassure him. "I'm fine. It's... it's not a big deal or anything; now that I'm back on the meds I should be fine. Just a week of your mom's food spoiled me. Before y'all, I hadn't had a real home-cooked meal in... god, eight years I think? I mean, my friends and I made stuff, but nothing with the same effort and love baked in."

It's not a big deal, but Spencer looks even more concerned. "Oh no. That’s... my mom is going to make you so much food when she finds out; you have no idea.”

“Don’t... you don’t have to tell her." Liam says quickly, trying not to think about how much he already owes Spencer's mom. "I... I’d really rather she didn’t worry; she seems sweet but I don’t need... I’m okay. I’m doing fine, and it’s not for much longer if I pass, and you all got me so much already.”

Spencer's quiet for a moment, then he says, "Why don't you come out to the farm after you're done with the test? We can celebrate with more homemade food. They could be there if you want to meet them, or it could be just us and whoever else you want. Up to you."

"I'd like that. Maybe... I don't know if your parents would like me all that much; I'm not exactly... parents don't tend to like me, and I don't want to butt in or anything, but if you want them there then I don't mind."

"Alright; it'll be us and Annie, and I'll make sure to have something home cooked. Anyone else you want to come? We could do a little celebration."

"You... we don't have to make it a thing; it--"

"If you're going to say it isn't a big deal, after how much we both know it's been stressing you out, I'm going to riot. It matters. This is a big thing, and it deserves to be celebrated. And so do you." Spencer looks so confident, and so sure of himself and the absolute fact of what he's just said that Liam can't find anything to say in response. He just looks down at the food in front of him, but even that is a sign of Spencer's kindness, and he's almost overwhelmed with it all.

"Thank you," he says after a moment. "For... everything, not just wanting to celebrate the NAVLE with me. I'm sorry if I'm weird about it; this is... new. For me. But I do appreciate it. So thank you."

“Of course. And I mean it, you do deserve to be celebrated. You’re a really great guy, and you worked so hard for this. We’ll do a special dinner next week, and if you want Bell or anyone there, we’ll have them.”

“I’d like that, but she... she lives a few hours away with my sister, and I wouldn’t want to have to pick her up after the test or take her back between that night and work the next morning. Thank you, though, for thinking of her. If she was closer, I'd definitely want her there."

"Of course." If Spencer's honest with himself, he's always thinking of Bell. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he's always worried about her and what she'd say. Liam's love for her is as clear as day. He lights up when he talks about her, how she's his girl and he'd do anything to make her happy. He talks about wanting to look after her when she gets old, how they'd grown up together and she'd been there with him through everything. Once, he'd said that she's the only girl he'll ever really love. He is so, so in love with her, and every now and then when he mentions her, Spencer can tell it breaks Liam's heart that they can't be together.

He’s constantly offering to show Spencer pictures of how cute she is, or how gorgeous and regal, but Spencer's always said no. Because if Bell is as stunning and wonderful as Liam says, and if they're really as in love as they seem, then no matter how much of a crush he has, Spencer doesn't stand a chance. At least if he doesn't have to see her, it makes it easier somehow. He can pretend she's not real, or that he and Liam have a shot. If nothing else, he at least doesn't have to see the person Liam's so close to.

"I... I was about to thank you again," Liam says, laughing a bit and pulling Spencer out of his head. "I really don't... it's been a long time since I had someone who'd look out for me like this. I appreciate it a lot."

"Well, you've got me and my parents and our neighbors now; that's at least five people who'd be willing to fight for and love you. And Bell would, too, or at least I hope she would. For how much you love her, I hope she's loving you back."

"Oh, yeah, I mean, she would if she could. She did, back when we were staying together; she helped so much then. I... I swear she's the only reason I'm doing as well as I am today, which isn't saying much, but it... it could be worse, I suppose. It's just harder now, since we're not in the same place."

Spencer nods, and Liam asks about Annie after a moment, so they watch the video of her playing again, then Spencer rambles about things at the farm so Liam can eat. When he's finished, they get his flash cards and study guide, and Spencer listens while he talks about cow poop and horse bacteria and rabbit parasites as the sun sets.

It's more obvious than ever how ready for this test he is. Spencer's known he's smart for a while, but something about the way he answers questions now, the quiet assurance as they flip through flash cards and practice questions, solidifies the fact in Spencer's mind. Liam's going to do well.

"Hey, you're... you're really smart," he says as they come to a break, looking at Liam with a bit of a smile. "I know I've said to before, and I know you don't really believe me, but you're going to crush this test."

"Thanks. I... I hope I'm ready. I just don't want to let anyone down."

"Well, I don't know who else you're talking about, but I'm already really proud of you. And you're working so hard, I bet anyone else would be proud, too."

"Thanks, but it's more... I had to crowdfund this entry fee. That's... that's part of why I'm taking it now instead of in the fall when everyone else did; I had to raise enough. So I just... I don't want to let down the people who helped me out. I couldn't have taken it otherwise, so I... I feel like if I don't do well, it'll be a waste of their money and belief in me."

He's looking down at the notes in front of him, chewing on his bottom lip, but he looks up as Spencer gets up to come around behind him and rub his shoulders. He seems surprised for a second, then leans into it, letting his head fall back onto Spencer's chest as Spencer rubs the tension out of his shoulders.

"I'm sorry I can't make any of this easier, but I can tell you that anyone who helped you get here should and would be so, so proud of you. You're doing your best, and that's all anyone could ask for."

"Thank you," Liam says, letting his eyes close for a second as Spencer works through a particularly tense knot in his shoulder. "That's... I'm trying to believe that."

"If you want, you could come out to the farm tomorrow. I've got some work, but if you wanted to study in the house or a barn, we could find you a place. I might even put you to work when that big brain of yours needs a break."

"I don't want to be in the way," Liam says, but Spencer just shakes his head.

"Nonsense. I mean, you don't have to, obviously, but if you want, it would be nice not to have to eat meals alone. The farm feels empty."

"If you're sure I wouldn't be in the way, I'd like that," Liam says. He's still got his head leaned on Spencer's chest, but despite being upside down, his smile looks almost normal. It's miles better than it was when they'd first met up.

A bit of hair flops down into his face as he and Spencer make eye contact, and he blows at it a bit. It lands in the exact same place, and he blows at it again, going cross-eyed as he stares at it and almost smiling as it flutters above him for a moment. When it falls right back where it was, Spencer takes one hand off Liam's shoulder and brushes it away. As he does, his fingers barely skimming Liam's forehead, their eyes catch again, and for a split second, Spencer can't breathe. He's sure that Liam can hear his heart thumping against his chest, but he can't remember how to make himself care. He can't remember how to do anything but look at Liam's face, taking in the bags under his eyes and the stubble on his chin, the flop of hair on his forehead and the way his lashes fan out when he blinks. But no matter what else he looks at, he keeps being drawn back to Liam's eyes. They're stunning. There's something about them, a fierceness and a light that captivates Spencer. He's aware that he's been looking at Liam for too long, and that he should look away, but somewhere, he realizes that it takes two people to make eye contact, and Liam isn't looking away, either.

Then a crow caws, a little too close to the food, and Spencer looks over to make sure he's not stealing anything important, breaking the spell.

"It's, uh, is it getting late?" Liam asks, moving his head off Spencer's chest to rub the back of his neck as he checks his phone. Spencer gives his shoulders a last squeeze and steps back; they're still tense but better than they were.

"It might feel that way; when did you get up?"

"Oh, definitely way too early. And, you know, it's... it's been a long one. I should probably head home, but, um, if you're sure I won't be in the way, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"That sounds good." They finalize plans as they pack the picnic basket, and Spencer insists that Liam take home the leftovers, so the picnic basket ends up in the back seat of Liam's car next to two care packages and a little cooler of fresh milk and veggies.

On AO3

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[stoopsbookstore]

Physically Wounded and Mentally Drained

"Can you help?"

Johnny stood outside the window of the closest person he knew lived by, the spoiled good-two-shoes, Y/N. His face was bloodied and his shirt had been torn open.

"Why should I?"

Y/N stood at the window, her arms crossed, the TV illuminating her room. The sounnds of sirens startling Johnny until he noticed the movie Y/N had been watching is now on a chase scene.

Johnny flashed Y/N the blood spots in his shirt, his body ready to keel over on her balcony.

"Please, can you just let me in? I did nothing wrong, but I know it's going to be twis-" Johnny's ramblings were cut off by the unlatching of the window, a rush of cool air from the AC hitting him in the face as thunder starts in the distance.

"Hurry up. I'll grab the first aid kit," Y/N pulled on the tall boy's shirt, shutting the window as soon as Johnny got his body inside, "it looks bad, it may be a minute."

"It feels bad," Johnny joked, tapping his chest, the tension in his body still high.

Plopping on the couch, Johnny looked at Y/N's room. A four-poster queen-sized bed with a cream colored canopy. Her desk was neatly organized with her statistics textbook open, signifying that she had been studying before his interruption. Reaching over, he grabbed the textbook.

"That's right," Johnny flipped through a few pages, the highlighted text a slight blur to him, "Douglas's exam is Monday."

"I forgot you're in the same class as me," Y/N took the damp rag in her hand, wiping the dirt off of Johnny's face, taking the textbook from him and throwing it on her bed, "and I'm going to ignore how you know where I live."

"Sorry, I know it's creepy to know where your mortal enemy lives, you can blame that prick, Hendery."

Johnny tried to break the tension, taking his leather jacket and placing it on the window ledge next to the couch. Y/N kept wiping the dirt and blood off where she could find, a need to help someone as awful as Johnny coming over her.

"Can you not get blood on the couch please? My parents would kill me," Y/N gave a towel to Johnny, the tall boy throwing it over his shoulders.

Mortal enemies? Awful?

"We're not mortal enemies," Y/N took some antiseptic out of the box of medicine, smearing it on a gash on Johnny's knuckles, "I just find you extremely annoying and vulgar. You and your friends just run amok with no sense of conseq-"

"And you and your friends act like a bunch of prudes, acting like you're better than everyone else because you come from money," Johnny winces when Y/N wiped the clean wound, a sharp inhale as she pulled a sharp piece of gravel from his flesh.

"Did you just forget who's helping you from whatever the fuck happened to you?"

Y/N continued to clean the injuries Johnny had acquired, the silence deafening. Biting his lip, he continued to look around her room. A decently sized TV sat on a 5-drawer dresser, the walls looked like they were painted a similar color to her bed. It looked like a normal room, Johnny can't figure out why that surprises him so much.

"I have to grab some gauze, I'll be back," Y/N kept her head down, walking to the bathroom.

Johnny took the chance to explore, although his body felt like collapsing. Looking in a mirror, he saw that the blood, dirt and gravel had vanished from his skin, but his shirt was still covered.

Y/N did a good job of cleaning me up.

He noticed a picture frame next to her bed. Walking over to it, he picked it up for a closer inspection. His eyes scanned the photo, it had to be a few years old as it looks like it was taken on the last day of their high school career. Y/N's uniform jacket was off, another girl had taken it to the side and Taeyong andbJaehy-

Taeyong? Jaehyun?

"I know I keep saying this, but plesse don't get blood on anything," Y/N took the photo from Johnny, placing it back on her nightstand, "I grabbed some of my dad's clothes you can change into."

"How do you know Taeyong and Jaehyun?" Johnny questioned.

"The normal response to someone giving you clothes is thank you," Y/N took Johnny's hand, wrapping up his knuckles in gauze and taping it closed.

"How do you know them?" Johnny stared at Y/N, towering over her like he did everyone else.

"How do you know Hendery?"

"I'm trying to be nice here. Understand you," Johnny threw his hands up in the air, hitting his thigh and wincing.

"Take your shirt off so I can throw these in the wash," Y/N grabbed the towel from the couch, holding her hand and doing her best to dodge the question.

"Are you ashamed of them?" Johnny took his shirt off, what looked like a shoe print on his skin and a gash on his abs.

Abs?

"N-no," Y/N stammered, taking the shirt from Johnny, wrapping it up in the towel and grabbing the first-aid kit, "I just haven't talked to them in a while."

"I know, they hang around me," Johnny chuckled, a slight smile appearing on Y/N's face.

"I should go put these in the washer," Y/N walked to her door, Johnny following behind her, "what are you doing?"

"I've never been in a place like this, when will I get another chance?" Johnny reached for the doorknob, Y/N reaching for his wrist, "I won't get blood on anything."

"I hope so. The blood should be congealed by now," Y/N quietly opened the door, checking down the hallway like a little kid on Christmas night looking for Santa, "ok, let's go."

Y/N tiptoed down the hallway, every step carefully planned while Johnny basically stomped, his footsteps on the shiny wood vibrating throughout the dark corridor.

"Can you be quieter please?" Y/N quietly yelled at the tall boy, "I don't want to get in trou-"

"Y/N, is that you?" Y/N pushed Johnny into a closet, a grown man standing at the landing of the stairs, "what are you doing?"

"I started my period and accidentally bled on my blankets," Y/N kept her body on the closet door, the handle jiggling, "I was going to throw them in the washer."

"Alright," footsteps could be heard retreating, "get to bed soon though, you have a test and an exam tomorrow. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Y/N cautiously opened the door, Johnny pretended to struggle for air as he walked out. Seeing Y/N's face, Johnny put his head down.

Getting to the laundry room, Y/N drenched the shirt in stain remover, an awkward silence falling over to the two. After Y/N put the shirt in the washer, with the few towels and rags she had used, she tended to the gash on Johnny's chest.

"Arms up."

"I was jumped by those SVT guys," Johnny confessed while Y/N placed a patch and wrapped the large gauze around his chest, "3 of them. I'm surprised it wasn't more. That Mingyu dude has a good kick and Church dude has a punch like I've never seen."

Y/N stayed quiet.

"Are you okay?"

"You're the one wounded, I don't think you should be asking me that," Y/N taped the gauze, putting back the first-aid kid back together.

"I'm sorry for what I said earl-"

"Water under the bri-"

"Y/N, what's goin-"

"I'm fine, I promi-"

"Clearly no-" Johnny's voice grew louder in the small room.

"Will you please keep it down?"

"Will you tell me what's wrong? You've been quiet ever since your dad almost caught us," Y/N kept her mouth shut, cleaning up around the room to avoid the question, "Look. I'm trying to be nice here. Will you please tell what's going on?"

"You wouldn't understand, Mr. I do what I want. I had to stop being friends with Jaehyun and Taeyong because they were quote-unquote bad influences," Y/N finally snapped, throwing a shoe at Johnny, narrowly missing the newly dressed wound, "Mr. I get to do what I please and not have to worry about grades or jobs or maintaining relationships where your parents control every aspect of your life."

Johnny tried to talk, but the floodgates had opened, Y/N let everything out, her eyes watering with every syllable.

"You get to go and be free when I have to be like the perfect child for my parents. I can't even go to any functions on campus like the Spring Fling or the Fall Festival because my parents probably signed me up to watch a booth or volunteer at the snack tables. Do you realize how hard it is to be my age, in classes for a degree, and not have a job because my parents don't want me to get one because I'll just marry my dad's friend's son. I don't even like Minho like that and I'm excepted to just fall in love with someo-"

"Breathe. Ok, please just breathe," Johnny noticed Y/N had started shaking, her body trembling, "are you okay if I hug you?"

Y/N nodded. Johnny's long arms tugged her closer, her sobs muffled by his chest.

"Let's get you back to your room."

"But your shirt."

"I'll pick it up later."

Walking back to her room, Johnny helped Y/N to her couch, her head landing on his shoulder. The TV had begun playing infomercials, Johnny's hand rubbing Y/N's arm in an effort to calm her down.

"I know it's hard, but you'll be okay. I went through the same stuff when I was younger. Finally, Doyoung kicked me in the ass and told me to move in with him. I've been on my own since I was 16. My parents were pissed."

Tilting her chin up, Johnny reassured Y/N with a simple smile.

"You know, I've learned more about you in the hour or so you've been bandaging me up than I have in the years we've known each other."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, I think it gives me a new understanding about you. Hopefully it's the same vice versa."

"Yeah, you're physically wounded and I'm emotionally drained."

The pair laughed, rain tapping on the window.

"I guess I'm stuck here now."

"The couch folds ou-"

"I was joking. Your parents wouldn't be too happy if they discovered a rebel like me in the princess's room."

"They're out of the house by 7am and they don't check on me, just a call around 8 to make sure I'm up," Y/N unwrapped Johnny's arm from her shoulder, wobbly standing up to grab a blanket from her closet, "worse comes to worse, just run in the closet, it's big enough to hide in."

"Thanks, princess."

"Will you be okay?" Y/N flipped through the channels as Johnny got comfortable on the couch, his jacket acting as a pillow.

"Will you?"

[peytonhudson]

Daddy || Peychuck

tagging: @thepuckrmn & @peytonhudson

time frame: valentines day night

location: puck’s tattoo shop

notes: puck is soft. 

puck

Puck managed to kick out all of his employees 15 mins before Peyton was supposed to show up. He felt bad lying to her, but it was for a good cause. Puck had told her that he was slammed at work but that she should swing by later to watch him work and get a drink after. What she didn’t know was that he had completely transformed the back room into their own private date night. Candles were scattered around the room, giving it a soft glow. Puck made sure to get all of her favorite food, including Devon-delivered cheese fries. He set the bottle of champagne in ice and did a final walk through of the room. Hearing the bell from the front door ring, he grabbed the bouquet of roses and stood up in front of the set up, blocking her view. “Hey babe,” he said with a smile. Handing her the roses, he stepped aside to reveal the decorated back room. “Surprise!”

peyton

Peyton had fallen in love with Puck knowing who he was. She was the cheesy one in their whatevership, and it really didn’t bother her that he wasn’t into Valentine’s Day. She just wanted to spend time with him — plus she’d blown up his phone all day with romantic puns so it wasn’t as though she didn’t get to be cheesy. Once Lexi was at her mom’s, Peyton picked up the large heart shaped chocolate box she had filled with miniature alcohol bottles instead of chocolate and made the now very familiar trip to Puck’s shop. Her smile brightened when she saw him standing in the middle of his empty shop with the roses in hand. “Hey baby,” she greeted him happily, moving up to him and pressing a quick loving kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute, and I-“ Peyton’s words drifted and her eyes widened as Puck moves to the side to show the transformed back room. “Oh my god,” She breathed out as she took a step forward to look at all the effort he had put in. “You are... something else, Puck Puckerman.”

puck

A big smile spread across his face as he watched her react to the set up. Feeling proud of himself, he stepped into the backroom. “I hope that’s a compliment,” he joked as he moved to the coffee table. Puck lifted the lids of the food containers. “Got your favorites. Cheese fries. Pizza. More cheese fries. And ma sent you brownies. Yes. You. Not me.” He grabbed the bottle of champagne and worked on opening it. “I just wanted to do something special for you.” Puck popped the champagne and watched the cork fly out into the empty studio. “I wanna spoil you. You deserve it,” he explained as he poured the champagne into two glasses. Sitting on the couch, he beckoned her to join him and handed her a glass. “A toast. I moved here thinking it was just going to be a a few years to build my brand and get out. I never thought I’d meet someone that was going to turn my life upside down. You had me hooked from the first time we sat on this couch together. I fucking hate this holiday….but I would literally do anything to make you happy.” Puck clinked his glass against hers and leaned in pressed a loving kiss to her lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful.”

peyton

“Definitely a compliment,” Peyton replied with nod, grinning from ear to ear. She watched as Puck walked through the room, opening up all her favorite foods and popping the champagne. No one had ever done anything like this for her before. They hadn’t always had a smooth relationship, but he really was the best thing that’s happened to her since Lexi was born. The very best. “This is so much better than watching you work.” She commented, still slightly in awe of it all. Peyton placed the roses carefully on the coffee table before moving to sit down next to him, leaning in to kiss at his cheek softly. “I love this... and you, so much.” She took the glass from Puck and listened quietly to his toast. It was so hard to sit there and not tell him she had heard him the other night, it’s been hard all week, but if she didn’t already know he was in love with her, she’d be able to tell from this. She happily returned his kiss, cupping at his cheek gently, “Happy Valentines Day, handsome.”  Peyton looked down at box in her lap, and hands it to him. “Compared to what you’ve done, this is nothing. But... It’s Valentines Day.” She smiled and took a sip of champagne before placing it down on the coffee table and shifting to sit in Puck’s lap. “You have no idea how happy you make me, baby.” She muttered softly as her fingers raked through his hair. “Talking to you is honestly the best part of my day, and I can’t even imagine my life without you in it anymore. You’re perfect, and sexy, and you have the world’s biggest -  most badass -  heart. You pun with me, and listen to me ramble about nothing for hours, and find a way to make me laugh when I don’t even want to. I’m so insanely in love with you, Puck, and I’m so lucky to be lo-” Peyton cut herself off before she accidentally blurted out something that would kill the mood or cause him to run. “But there are cheese fries within arms reach and my heart is also very much in love with them.”

puck

Taking the box she handed him, he leaned back to give her room to get into his lap. He opened the box and smiled widely at the contents. “Oh fuck yeah. You know me so well. Are we gonna get drunk tonight and have sloppy sex? Say yes. Thank you, baby,” he said as he leaned in to kiss her. His eyes stayed locked on her as she spoke about what he meant to her. Puck had been completely emotionally closed off for the last 10 years, but this girl had broken through every single wall he had built around his heart. “I’m the lucky one,” he said as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m going to fucking marry you, Peyton Hudson.” Pulling away, he reached over and grabbed the container and put it on their laps for easy access. Puck took a couple of fries and held them up to feed them to Peyton.

peyton

“Of course.” Peyton chuckled, smiling against his lips as they kissed. The more Puck told her he was going to marry her, the less it felt like a joke. And the more time she spent with him, the less she wanted it to be. She would marry him in a heart beat. It might not have made sense, but nothing about the way she felt about Puck — or even their relationship to some degree — really made sense. “And I cant wait to be Peyton Puckerman,” she murmured happily. Peyton shifted slightly on Puck’s lap to make room for the container of food, “You really do know the way to my heart.” Peyton joked as she took the fries offered, humming contently to herself. “Do you think if I didn’t accidentally text you, we’d still be here? I mean together... right now. Not here-here, like in Doveport or... alive. I’d really hope we’d both still be alive either way.”

puck

He popped a couple of fries into his own mouth and nodded in agreement. “Cheese fries are a fucking gift from God.” Puck rested his chin on her shoulder as he thought over her question. “I dunno. I mean we bumped into each other on the beach…exchanged phone numbers…ran into each other at like bars and stuff…I mean I always thought you were gorgeous. I was just preoccupied with being an whore and you seemed like the good girl type. But then you accidentally texted me. And you sent me that pun about wanting me inside of you and I realized you weren’t as much of good girl as I thought.” He lifted his head up to look at her properly. “I think you would’ve always been in my life in some sort of way…but I’m really fucking glad you texted the wrong person.” Puck shifted her in his lap to face him more. “You and Lexi really gonna move to LA with me?”

peyton

Peyton quietly continued to eat more cheese fries as she listened to him talk about what things could have been like. “Wait... You don’t think I’m a good girl?” She joked and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I didn’t think I’d ever be a girl who’d turn your head, honestly? I’m just me, and you’re... you. There’s a reason girls fall at your feet, babe. I mean, I’ll fight them now, but back then I didn’t feel like I stood a chance. So... I’m really happy you were my wrong number. And I love that you agreed to go with a possibly crazy person to a wedding of no one you knew... Our wedding will be better, don’t worry.” Peyton moved the container of food off her lap and onto the couch next to them, turning her attention to the hazel eyes of the man she had fallen for. “We are.” She replied simply. “You know I always wanted to move somewhere bigger for my career, now it’s just happening a little sooner? But I’m going to be wherever you are. And Lexi... She’s just part of the package deal. She loves you though, and would probably be more upset than me if you left without us. Unless... you were joking about us moving with you?”

puck

“You knocked me off my feet...I mean literally because I wasn’t paying attention and ran into you...but the thought still counts.” He smirked at her mention of their wedding and wrapped his arms tightly around her. “Hawaii at sunset with an open bar and only cool people invited. Sounds like the dream.” A smile replaced his smirk as she spoke about moving to LA with him. Shaking his head at her question, he leaned in to kiss her quickly before responding. “Never was joking. Seeing you and talking to you has been the best part of my days since we started hanging out. I don’t wanna think about a world where you’re not close by. And Lexi too. I’d do anything for that little girl. Both of you.”

peyton

“You don’t have to think of that world.” Peyton replied with a warm smile. “Our world would be weird if you weren't in it. Plus there’s more for all of us in LA. Just don’t leave until I’ve graduated... Two and a half more months.” It was one thing to find someone who loved her, but it was another to find someone who cared about her daughter just as much. It was hard not to fall more in love with Puck when he talked about Lexi like this. Peyton leaned in to press a lingering kiss to his forehead before pulling away and reaching for the container of brownies on the table. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to share with you, but I can keep a secret if you can?” She smirked slightly, taking a bite and holding it out for Puck.

puck

“I can wait a few more months. You’re worth it,” he said simply with a smile. Puck couldn’t help but chuckle at her comment. “You can keep a secret? Uhhh are you sure about that, babe?” he said teasingly. Leaning in, he took a bite of the brownie in her hand. “Delicious.” Puck raised his head to capture her lips with his. “You taste better,” he muttered. Moving the container away from them, he shifted her in his lap so that she was straddling him. His hands ran over her back as he pulled her into a deep kiss. Puck preferred to explain how he was feeling through his actions rather than words.

peyton

“Hush, I could keep a secret.” Peyton joked, not even believing herself as she says it. Honestly, the only secrets she’s been able to keep are the ones that could hurt Puck. Everything else slowly eats away at her until it eventually blurts out at inappropriate moments. She leaned into his kiss, humming against Puck’s lips softly. “You taste like cheese fries and brownies. No wonder I’m so crazy about you.” Peyton lets Puck shift her to get closer to him, and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. When Puck kissed her like this the world always seemed to fade around her, his lips had a way of telling her how he was feeling even when he couldn’t. Eventually pulling away for breath she rested her forehead against his and brushed her thumb softly over the back of his neck.  “I wouldn’t change a thing,” She whispered into the small space between them, the words of his half-asleep confession still playing in her head. “I’ve never been this happy, Puck.”

puck

Puck stared up at her when she pulled away from him. A smile spread across his face as he listened to her speak about their whatever-ship. “I’m happy too,” he replied quietly. Puck dropped his head into the crook of her neck and squeezed her tightly, just wanting to hold her for a moment. He pressed a kiss to her neck before pulling away to look at her properly. “You know. After my dad leaving…and Quinn…and the baby…I dunno. I thought there was something wrong with me. Something about me that made it impossible for people to stick around or for people to love me. I accepted it. Closed myself off to emotions and was happy doing the casual thing for the rest of my life. Until I met you…you’re pretty fucking stubborn, babe.” Puck leaned up and kissed her lovingly. “But like stubborn in a good way. Because you took the time actually see me. Instead of just using my super sexy body for your pleasure.” He cupped her face in his hands and smiled up at her. “I can’t wait to fucking marry you, baby girl.”

peyton

Biting softly at her lip, Peyton fell quiet as she listened to him speak about how he felt. She knew it didn’t always come easily to him, but that was okay, Puck had a way of showing her how he was feeling. Her hand glided down his chest and rested over his heart. “Hawaii...” Peyton murmured with a bright smile before leaning in to press her lips against his tenderly. “For the record, baby... you are so easy to love,” she pulled back on his lap and shook her jacket off onto the couch next to them. “And I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to get you to see yourself the way I see you. I promise. It’s probably going to drive you crazy,” Peyton chuckled. Reaching for the hem of her shirt, she slipped it over her head and dropped next to her jacket. “I’m all yours...” She told him quietly, leaning in to bury her face in the crook of his neck and smirking against his skin. “Daddy”.

puck

He smiled at her words. “Hawaii,” he repeated. The idea of them getting married in Hawaii may have started as a joke, but the more time they spent together, the more real it became. Puck leaned back against the couch as he watched her take off her jacket. A smirk crept onto his lips as she pulled off her shirt as well. Not wanting her to feel alone, he took the chance to pull off his own shirt as well, tossing it to the side. It was all beginning to remind him of their first night together. His smirk grew wider when he heard her call him daddy. “Oh you fucking know how to get me going, baby,” he said as he tightly wrapped his arms around her. Puck just held her close for a moment, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Mine,” he muttered. His fingers tangled into her hair, pulling her head back so he could capture her lip with his in a heated kiss.

peyton

Peyton closed her eyes against him for a moment, happy to just enjoy the feeling of his body close to her. When it came to Puck she could contently do this all night. He made her feel safe, and loved all without having to say a word. “Yours,” she smirked, biting into his neck gently. Her hands cupped his face, instinctively deepening the kiss between them. A lot of things were the same as the first night they spent together. It was still easy, and it still caused her skin to electrify. But the way they kissed had changed, and the way she felt about him had definitely changed. Peyton pulled away from his lips, close enough to still feel his breath on hers. “Best valentine ever,” she muttered with a smile. 

And then they fucked a lot. K bye.

[fandammit]

Loss like the sharp edges of a knife (7/8)

[A/N: At this point should you even believe me as to when this fic will be completed? Probably not. I love you all, thank you for your support and reading and continued patience. PS. Death Wish Coffee is a real coffee and I nearly died when I found that out.] 

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6

It's two days later when he gets a present back from Karen.

He's running past her apartment with Gracie, expecting nothing but the low grade thrill he always gets when he runs past her place, when he looks up and sees the pot of daffodils sitting out on the windowsill.  

He stops abruptly on the sidewalk beneath her fire escape, the movement so sudden that Gracie yelps a bit as her collar digs into her throat from the force of the stop.

He immediately drops down to one knee and loosens her collar, rubbing his fingers across her neck.

“Sorry girl,” he says softly, breathless in a way that he knows is only partially from the effort of running the last half hour.

He squints up at windowsill, trying to make out what might be waiting for him. It’s looks too big and heavy to be her simply returning the book to him, which he knows is a ridiculous fear to have but has weighed heavily on his mind in these last two days anyway.

He gives Gracie a few more rubs to her neck, then walks her over to the streetlamp nearby and loops her leash around it and tells her to sit and stay.

A few minutes later, he’s back down with a substantially heavy box under his arm. He almost wants to wait around for Karen, for any number of reasons, really, but right now because of the fact that she’d left her window half open and wedged the box underneath it to hold it in place. He’d closed it firmly before he’d descended down the ladder, but just knowing that it’s unlocked, capable of being easily opened and slipped through by any passing stranger sets off a wave of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

He feels Gracie brush up against him and drops down to his knee to scratch behind her ears.

She lets him get in a few scratches, but it’s obvious that she’s far more interested in the box in his hands. Which makes sense, since he’s pretty sure it’s mostly for her seeing as the words Bark Box are stamped on the front of it.

He opens it up and finds an explainer card for what is apparently a subscription box meant to spoil Gracie every month. This month’s theme is apparently “May Flowers,” a small point of fact that makes him smile.

He -- with plenty of help from Gracie -- rifles through the box and finds two toys, a bag of treats and a rawhide chew stick. In the corner of the box, wedged between plush, stuffed flower pot and a rubber flower chew toy, is a mug with painted pitbulls on it. Inside is a gift card stuck in a plain brown envelope with an address written on the front in Karen’s firm, looping script.

He opens up the bag of treats and gives Gracie one as he looks up the address on his phone. He and Gracie walk over to his truck so he can drop off the box -- to her great consternation -- then keeps walking West from Karen’s apartment.

The coffee shop is just a few blocks down, a relatively nondescript brick storefront with the wide open windows and plush seating you might expect from any other coffee shop. He leans over and looks at the name -- Vigilantes, written in bold, blocky font on the front window.

He squints a bit at it and tilts his head, considering the name. He’s about to loop Gracie’s leash around one of the chairs when he sees a sign on the door that reads, “Dogs welcome and encouraged!” The corner of his mouth quirks up as he reaches out and opens the door, steps inside to the pleasant smell of coffee beans.

The walls are covered with art of the many different superheroes this city’s got zipping around it at any given time, interspersed with framed front pages of newspapers with headlines about aliens and science experiments gone wrong and gods from other worlds.

He walks up to the counter and is greeted by a kid who can’t be any more than 19, long dark hair falling in waves around his face. The kid smiles widely at him, energy practically buzzing off of him.

“Hey, hey, welcome to Vigilantes. Have you been here before?”

“I have...not.” He holds up Karen's gift in his hand. “Got a gift card.”

“Cool, man, cool. So, each of our orders is based on a different superhero or vigilante. For example,The Hulk -- the beans are roasted --.”

The kid’s voice fades into the background as he scans the menu in front of him. When he sees what he's looking for, he holds up a hand to him.

“Hey, uh -- can you tell me what type of drink I get if I order a Punisher?”  

The kid -- Allen, according to his name tag -- smiles widely.

“Yeah man, sure, sure. That's actually one of my favorites. So, it’s just straight up black coffee, no fuss, no muss, nothing added. The beans are roasted at a shop here in New York -- little place in Saratoga Springs. It's this incredibly bold flavor with a kick --  oh, shit, sorry! I'm supposed to show you a bag, too, in case you wanna buy some -- hold on.”

He ducks down for a moment, then comes back up with a black coffee bag in his hand.

Frank grabs the bag of coffee and studies it. It's all black with a skull and crossbones stamped on the middle of it, the words Death Wish Coffee Co. circling around it.

“So, yeah,” Allen continues on rapidly, “it's called Death Wish Coffee, and like, perfect right? They say it's the strongest coffee in the world, which I absolutely believe, because this stuff will absolutely, absolutely kick your ass.”

Frank purses his lips for a moment to try to keep from smiling, then just bows his head towards his chest and laughs -- a deep, loud sound that comes from some place in him that only rarely sees the light of day.

He looks up and sees Allen looking at him with a confused expression and clears his throat, though he knows that there’s probably still a too-wide grin on his face.  

“I’ll take an 8 ounce Punisher, Allen.” He holds the bag of coffee up. “And I’ll take one of these, too.”

He hands the card over to Allen, who smiles brightly at him.

“Alright man, cool, cool.” He looks down at the screen and taps it a few times. “Oh! You want beans or grounds? Because I gave you beans.”

“Grounds,” he says, handing the bag back over to Allen, who takes it and disappears beneath the counter for a second before coming up with a different bag.

“Here you are, man.” He swipes Frank’s card, then turns the screen around so that it faces Frank. “And just so you know, you had 50 bucks on the card originally, and you have 27 bucks left on the card after the drink and the grounds.” Allen smiles even wider as Frank taps for a 20% tip. “Oh hey! I think I know your friend who got you this gift -- Karen, right? Blonde, tall and, like, willow-y -- works for the Bulletin?”

Frank blinks rapidly. Her name catches him off guard, and he hopes that he’s managed to smooth out the longing in his expression to something flatter, more neutral.

“Uh, yeah, sounds like her.” He glances around the shop, imagines her walking in, her blue eyes bright and sparkling. He feels his expression falter. “She in here often?”

Allen makes a so-so motion with his shoulders, tilts his head back and forth.

“I mean, we just opened last week, so we haven’t had too many people come through yet, but she’s been in two or three times at least, I'd say -- on her way to work. I remembered her because there haven’t been many people who’ve bought a gift card, and definitely no one else who bought one for fifty.” He clicks his tongue, bounces up on the balls of his feet as he thinks. “And I just remembered her working at the Bulletin because she said that she doesn’t write up food or drink stuff, but that she’d pass our name along to the guy who does, which is good because -- .”

Jesus, this kid must drink the coffee by the gallon. He can practically feel him vibrating with energy.

“Yeah, that’s Karen,” he says, and he manages to shake himself free enough of his distracted longing to offer the kid a genuine smile. “She, uh, she knows I’m a big coffee guy. Always looking for the strongest stuff.” He grabs the cup that’s materialized in front of him during Allen’s long, rambling explanation and takes a sip, then whistles low and smacks his lips together. “And I gotta say, that does feel like a bit of an ass kicking.”  

Allen smiles broadly at him. Frank wonders how the kid’s cheeks don’t hurt all the time from the force of his continued smiling, but also decides that it’s somewhat endearing in its own way.

“Yeah, right? It totally is.” He swivels the screen back around to face him. “So, also, there’s a dog bowl of water in the corner over there if you want to sit and chill a little bit with your dog. And treats, too -- homemade!”

Frank tips the coffee cup in Allen’s direction, then walks over to the recliner in the corner that he pointed out. There’s a jar filled with bone shaped treats next to him, and he promptly finds the biggest one and gives it to Gracie before he sits down.

It’s actually a pretty nice little place, all things considered. The decor on the walls is interesting where it might be kitschy, there’s a glass display case of some nice looking pastries, and hadn't been lying when he said the coffee was the strongest he’s ever had.

Gracie finishes up her treat and stretches in front of him before laying down at his feet and resting her head on top of his shoe. To anyone that might be watching, he knows it must look like a quiet moment of contentment. And it might be, too, if he could manage to tamp down the excess of emotions that have been slowly and steadily rising up from the pit of his stomach ever since Allen said Karen’s name at the counter.

Because all he can think about is sharing in this place, in this moment with her. All he can think about is the wry look on her face as she watches him order a Punisher, the pointed way she’d order some other drink -- a Thor, maybe, or a Captain America. It’s absurd how clearly he can see the teasing glint in her eyes, how distinctly he can hear her laughter in the air. He thinks about the way she would brush against him as she laughed, the easy way he might knock his shoulder into hers to let her know he’s teasing. As if they’ve spent endless conversations laughing and joking with one another, as if they’ve ever had more than mere moments of lighthearted conversation.

It’s ridiculous, he knows, to miss something that you’ve never even really had in the first place.

But it doesn’t stop him from missing it. 

“So, I didn’t realize that you and Karen had been in touch,” David says a few nights later, looking across the table at him.

He huffs out a sardonic laugh and sits back down heavily across from him, picks up his beer bottle and takes a swig before answering.  

“So, what - you two -. “ He levels the bottle and between where David and Curtis are sitting. “You just gossiping about me while I’m in the bathroom?” He shakes his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t’ve asked you both to have a beer after all.”

Curtis laughs as David shrugs, a grin stretched out across his face.

“Gifts on her windowsill, Frank? Really? I was half-joking when I said that to you.”

“I don’t know why you’re even surprised,” Curtis says, leaning back in his chair and eyeing David. “You knew about the flowers on the windowsill from before. I just found all this shit out last week.”

“Which, by the way,” David says, narrowing his eyes at Frank, “I can’t believe you’ve been coming over twice a week for, like, over a month and you never mentioned this.”  

Frank purses his lips, then shrugs a shoulder.

“You never asked.”

David huffs.

“I was trying to be, you know -- cordial or some shit. Wait for you to bring it up.”

“Not really much to bring up, David.”

Curtis laughs as David swivels in his chair and looks at Frank incredulously.  

“You and Karen are leaving each other hats and photos and whatever other shit on her windowsill like you’re in some sort of 18th century, like, Victorian novel or something. That’s definitely something, Frank.” David narrows his eyes, tilts his head at Frank. “You do know we have email, right? The postal service even?”

“Nah, that’s not dramatic enough for Frank,” Curtis says, a truly shit eating grin on his face. “Man’s got a love for the theatrics.”

Frank scoffs and finishes up the rest of his beer, then looks across the table at the two men opposite of him and shakes his head.  

“You know, I’m regretting introducing the two of you to one another.”

Curtis just smiles at that while David leans in across the table.

“So, what’d you give her other than the photo of you and Gracie?”

He tilts his head, narrows his eyes at David.

“What makes what you think I gave her anything else but that?”

David shrugs.

“It’s not exactly reciprocal in nature, right? You leave Karen flowers and bullets, she leaves you coffee and a beanie. You leave her a picture, she leaves you a picture. It wouldn’t be even if she gave you and Gracie a gift and you just gave her a picture of you two, yeah?”

Frank shrugs, tries to keep a neutral expression on his face.

“Seems like you sure think you’re right.”

“That means you’re right, man,” Curtis adds in as he leans back in his chair. “Now I’m curious, too, Frank. We know that it’s gotta be something that tells Karen something about you or how you been doing.” He taps his fingers on the table, a thoughtful look on his face.

David glances over at Curtis.

“Why is that something that we know?”

Frank turns towards him as well, curious about his answer.

Curtis gestures towards Frank as he turns towards David.

“Well, that’s the pattern as far as I can tell -- Karen gives him things to let him know that she’s thinking of him, Frank gives her stuff to let her know how he’s trying to build a life that doesn’t revolve around vengeance.”

“That's - huh.” Frank sits back in his chair and purses his lips, nods as he considers Curtis’ words.

“You really didn’t realize that was the pattern?” Curtis shakes his head and huffs a laugh. “I thought it was pretty damn obvious.”

“Yeah, well -- sometimes Frank has trouble seeing what's obvious to everyone else,” David adds, grinning over at Frank, who has the sudden urge to both roll his eyes and punch David squarely in the chest.

He does neither, just reaches across the table and finishes David’s beer with one long swig.

“I left her a book,” he says, wiping his mouth before setting the empty bottle down in front of him. “Moby Dick.”

David and Curtis both shoot him near identical looks of exasperation and disapproval.

“Frank, what the hell,” David blurts out, at the same time that Curtis says --

“Are you serious, Frank?”

He shrugs.

“It’s one of my favorite books.”

“Makes sense,” David says, giving Frank a crooked grin. “Little on the nose though, yeah?”

Curtis is just shaking his head next to him.

“Jesus Christ, Frank. She gives you a nice shirt, and you give her a homework assignment.” He furrows his brows. “Hold up -- that doesn’t exactly follow the pattern you two have set up. So there has to be, I don’t know, some kind of specific reason for it.”

“A reason other than that you want her to stop communicating with you altogether because you gave her a 700 page novel about a whale,” David jokes, a slight tinge of incredulity to his words. “Moby Dick, Frank. Seriously?”

“Well, it was my copy of Moby Dick, if that makes you feel any better.”

David raises an eyebrow.

“It...doesn’t. Should it?”

Frank sighs and leans back, stretches his arm out across the back of the chair next to him. There’s a part of him that just wants to shut down the conversation completely -- shrug it off and stonewall the two, or just get up and pay his tab -- but it’s overruled by the part of him that knows that this is all part of building a friendship, of building his life back up from nothing. So he just sighs heavily and looks over at Curtis.

“I was listening to you, you know.” He makes a looping gesture with his hands. “Uh, what you said -- what you said to me the other night.” He fidgets a bit, taps his fingers along the side of the chair. “Karen -- she doesn’t really know me, she doesn’t...she can’t really know me.”

“That’s not all I said, Frank,” Curtis says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but…” He rubs his hand across the back of his neck. “But it’s true, right? It’s -- .”

“It’s not the whole truth,” Curtis interjects. “If you remember, I also said that Karen could help you figure out what -- who -- you might be.”  

“But she, uh, deserves to know -- should at least have the chance to know who I am. As much as, you know, as much as anyone can.” He folds his arms in front of him. “The copy that I left her...it’s the one I read, shit, at least half a dozen times when I first got my apartment. It has, uh, it has all my notes and shit in it, right? Shit I wrote in the margins, shit that I underlined. It just, it -- it has all my shit in it. It...it has a lot of me in it.” He swivels his head between Curtis and David. “Figured Karen at least should...she reads that, and it gives her a pretty good idea about me. Then, you know.” He shrugs and nods. “Whatever she decides.”

He sees Curtis and David glance at one another.

“Well, I think you're an idiot,” David says.  

“Thanks David. Appreciate that.”

David gives him a wry look and shakes his head.

“Not for giving her a book -- for thinking that could change anything.” He looks around, then leans forward in his chair. “She met you when you were on trial for murdering 37 people, Frank. She's not gonna care that you have some weird affinity for Ahab.”

He has both the urge to argue with David and the desperate need to believe him. Gives in to neither and instead settles for giving David a long, inscrutable look.

“It's not,” he finally says, because he’s suddenly struck by the fact that two men sitting across from him know him better than anyone that’s currently alive, and that neither of them know much at all about what Karen is to him. At least, who she is as much as he can explain it.

He’s not quite sure he can handle any more lines of questioning about what Karen may or may not do, about who he is or isn’t. But he can talk about what Karen has done for him. He thinks the two men sitting across from him deserve at least that.  

“It’s not…” David starts, a questioning look in his eyes. “You don't have a weird affinity for Ahab?”

Frank shakes his head.

“Nah, man -- it's not when I first met her. Not, you know, technically, at least.” David looks surprised, while Curtis just looks interested. “She was helping to protect this shitbag Kitchen Irish member -- Grotto -- and...”

Curtis raises an eyebrow.

“And you were…”

Frank shrugs.

“Shooting at Grotto.”

David, for some reason, looks infinitely disappointed in this story.

“Ok, so, not quite the meet-cute I had in mind for you two.“ He sighs heavily, like he’s just had some dream of his ripped to pieces. “I guess that is a more you story though -- meeting Karen when you’re shooting at her.”

“At Grotto.”

David rolls his eyes.

“In her direction, then.” David tilts his head and furrows his brows. “I’m going to assume that your second meeting was less, you know, guns and violence, since somewhere down the line she actually wanted to help you.”

He looks down at the table, scratches at a mark that’s probably been there for the last ten years, then licks his lips and looks back up at Curtis and David.

“Second time I met her, I was in police custody. Beat to hell, strapped to a hospital bed. They had this, this red fucking tape -- just this box around my hospital bed that no one was supposed to cross for their own safety or some shit.” The corner of his mouth quirks up, even though the memory can’t actually be described as anything even approaching pleasant. “Karen crossed it, though, ‘cause…’cause that’s just who she is.” At this, he can’t help but smile, thinking of her. The fearlessness, the determination. Thinks she would’ve made a hell of a Marine. “She was with the two attorneys on the case, and I just...I didn’t give a shit about them, about the case, about anything. I was just -- I was done, you know. Just really done.” He shakes his head. “But Karen, she was just getting started. She’d done all this research, you know, looked into my story, realized that something wasn’t right. That there was some shit going on. So she sees me, and she knows that I’m just some asshole who’s gonna end up dead if I don’t get my shit together, so she crossed that tape, right, she crossed that line. And she -- she shows me this picture of my family -- me, Maria, the kids at the carousel and…” He trails off, finds that he can’t meet either man’s eyes for a moment.

“How’d she get a picture?” David asks. “I wouldn’t think that’d be in your file.”

He looks up, lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug.

“She broke into my house.”

Curtis blinks rapidly at that, while David just shakes his head and lets out a small chuckle.

“You know, it’s no wonder you like her so much -- you’re both driven as hell, and neither of you have any kind of sense of self-preservation.”

Frank ducks his head down, thinks about the truth of the second part of that statement and frowns. He wishes that was one thing that they didn’t share.

He clears his throat.

“The whole time, you know, that whole trial -- it, uh, it mattered to her.” He glances sideways at both Curtis and David once, before looking back down at the table. “Finding out the truth about what happened to me, what happened to my family. It mattered to her that we did something about it.”

Even now, he can hardly believe that it’s true. He wonders if she knows what that meant to him -- to have someone notice that he was once a man, to have someone remind him what it meant to be more than a mission. He hopes she does -- hopes that their wordless exchanges aren’t limited to matters of safety and times of crisis.

(Another part of him, quiet but insistent, tells him that he doesn’t have to simply hope. That this is an exchange that doesn’t, needn’t be wordless. He ignores it. Finds that it isn’t as easy as it was before.)

Curtis rubs his temple, narrows his eyes at Frank.

“You mattered to her, Frank.” He waits for Frank to meet his gaze before he continues, picks up that prior thread of conversation like it hasn’t been over a week since they first started talking about it. “That’s what all this tells me. It’s never been about your mission or your war. It’s always been you.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, just tilts his head back and forth, makes a noise that might be agreement, might just be him clearing his throat. He notices David and Curtis exchanging glances again, but can’t quite make out what passes between them.

Finally, David clears his throat.

“I guess it makes sense -- her wanting to make sure the truth came out. That’s what she did with Union Allied, too, right?”  

Frank furrows his brows.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that’s how she ended up working for your attorneys, uh --.” He snaps his fingers a few times. “Nelson and Murdock -- that’s it -- in the first place, right?” He frowns at the look on Frank’s face. “She got framed for murdering someone at Union Allied, Nelson and Murdock took her case on against the murder charges, turned out there was some shady shit going on at Union Allied that she knew about? I mean, stuff that went all the way up to Wilson Fisk.” He spreads his hands out in front of him, palms up. “Shit, Frank, do you really not know any of this? I mean, I didn’t even have to dig very deep for it -- few front page articles, connected a couple of dots.”

Frank crosses his arms tightly in front of him. David squints at him, takes in his posture, his expression.

“It bothers you.”

“What?”

“It bothers you that I might know more about Karen than you do.”

He grunts, raises his shoulders in a tight imitation of a shrug.

“Maybe it bothers me that you felt like you needed to look her up.”

“Frank, c’mon. I didn't know who she was. I didn't know how she fit into everything, and you weren’t exactly as chatty as you’re being right now.” He sighs. “I needed to know that I could trust her.”

“And what you found -- that made you trust her?”

David shrugs, the corner of his lip turning up in a small half-smile.

“I learned to trust you.”

Frank relaxes his shoulders and forces the scowl off his face, lets the air of his lungs slowly.

“Yeah, alright.” he mutters. “Ok.”

“You know, what you could do if it bothers you that David knows all this stuff about Karen that you don’t?” Curtis asks. “You could just ask her about it yourself.”

He chews the bottom of his lip, tilts his head, looks back and forth between the two men.

“I left her that book, right?” He scrapes a hand across the stubble on his chin. “We’ll see how she feels after it.”

He says it with a finality that signals that the conversation, as far he’s concerned, is over. And it must speak to his friendship with both Curtis and David that they simply accept that, easily turn the conversation to other, more mundane and normal aspects of their lives.

He’s glad to have them both here, together; knows he’s fortunate to have a sounding board and a guiding hand and sharpened steel knife when he needs it. But it’s exhausting, too -- laying himself open like this, pulling parts of himself and holding them up to the light.

Which is why it’s only a little bit later that he wraps up the night, citing an early morning run and a long boxing workout with Paul as a reason to head home before 10 p.m.  

Curtis nods as David signals to the waitress for their check.

“So, this early morning run -- doesn’t by any chance take you right past Karen’s, does it?” David asks as he stands up to go.

“Maybe,” Frank replies mulishly.

David grins.

“Well, in that case, I fully expect to hear about you seeing Karen in person the next time I see you because she is not going to give a shit about whatever it is you wrote in Moby Dick.” He claps Frank on the back, then holds out a hand to Curtis. “Good seeing you again, Curtis.”

Curtis stands up, pulls David in for a half-hug.

“You too, David. We’ll do it again soon.”

David smiles at that, gives both men a final wave before he heads out of the bar.

Frank signs his receipt and stands up, stretches his hands above his head.

“You are though, right?” Curtis asks.

“I’m gonna…?”

“You’re gonna see Karen in person once you get your book back? You’re not gonna drag this out or wait for her to give you a goddamn, I don’t know, handwritten invitation or something before she finally convinces you that she really does want to see you?” He ducks his head down, raises an eyebrow. “You’re not gonna be a wallowing asshole, right, Frank?”

Frank purses his lips and nods.

“I -- uh -- yeah, Curt, yeah. I’m not gonna be a wallowing asshole.”

“Good, because that offer still stands -- I will kick your ass for being one.”

He huffs out a small laugh, shakes his head and glances up at Curtis.

“How are you on her side and you’ve never even met her?”

Curtis breathes in deeply, reaches out and rests a hand on Frank’s shoulder.

“I’m on your side, Frank. I always have been.” He drops his hand, crosses his arms in front of him. “You’d rain down hell on anyone that messed with Karen, wouldn’t you? On someone that hurt her?”

He narrows his eyes at Curtis.

“You know I would.”

Curtis tips his head in Frank’s direction.

“Well, you keep this up much longer, Frank, and that person is gonna be you.”  

[coffeecupandcorgi]

How am I doing on @katiewont‘s delightful All Fandom August (+ September, cough) fic reading bingo challenge? (^ complete with terrible graphic, bless you Paint)

Loss of Control: Seek_The_Mist’s Lock up your daughters (and your sons), Raven Cycle, Richard Gansey III/Ronan Lynch, 3k, 2017

Per the author, “this is the summertime-messing-around Ronsey that no one asked for but that I'm going to deliver to you because of obvious reasons.” I mean the tags on this one are like “light angst” and “praise kink.” You should probably read it. Gansey and Ronan drink a bunch of nice whiskey in Ronan’s bedroom (like pre book one and stuff going to hell in Ronan’s life), Gansey gets kinda wasted and just goes to town on Ronan, Ronan gets all blushy and awkward, etc etc, read it.

Enemies working together: Wordsplat’s Saving the World (Is Totally a Date), Marvel, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, 64k, 2013

@consultingreaders sent me some truly excellent Steve Rogers/Tony Stark recs, and I’m totally hooked. I just…love them so much. It’s making me kind of misty eyed, haha. I love that Tony’s an eccentric inventor genius who drinks too much coffee, talks too fast, and gets incredibly excited about projects (and Steve); and Steve just loves him to pieces and thinks he’s the smartest, funniest dude ever. Ahh. So I’ve barely waded into this fandom (SEND ME ALL THE RECS PLS), but I’m falling over my heels for the way it rocks the our-team-is-a-big-quirkly-cuddly-supportive-family trope and delivers identity porn like woah. This fic in particular is so good. I spent a great deal of time raving to my friends about how good it is. Um. Iron Man is a supervillian who keeps kidnapping Captain America, Captain America is, you know, a super hero who enjoys flirting with Iron Man whilst tied to chairs in about-to-be-exploded warehouses. They’re also undercover as teachers at a high school because this is a teacher AU!!! My new kink is Tony Stark’s friends calling him “Tones;” it’s just adorable, I can’t even. Have I mentioned how adorable people (and Wordsplat in particular) seem to write Tony and Steve? Like I was shook at first. I think the Inception fandom has ruined me (I mean, in the best way) with delicious smut for days. But, like, Tony and Steve seem to spend a lot of time texting each other constantly, cuddling while watching movies, and hanging out with their friends. Oh god my heart. 

Friendship: copperbadge’s Executive Party, Marvel, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, 3k, 2015

See all my squealing above about this ship/fandom. This is just 3-glorious-k of the Avengers having an impromptu party in Tony’s office to get him to stop stressing out about Stark Industries work. They all play video games, braid each other’s hair I am not even joking I’m just crying, make Steve take vodka shots when he swears while playing GTA, eat pizza, and listen to country music (strangely).

Cuddling: Sevenimpossiblethings’s Nobody Has Time for Roller Derby, Spider-Man: Homecoming, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, 11k, 2017

MJ narrates this story, and her voice is pitch perfect, a self-aware, yearning mix of snarky and fond. She navigates her crush on Peter with aplomb, survives a sex talk from Tony Stark (omg so hilarious), and is just generally badass. <3

Mind Games: Brief_and_Dreamy’s Outrageous Flirt, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, 7k, 2015

“Draco Malfoy flirts with everyone except Harry, and it has to stop.” A Ministry office hijinks type fic that had me squirming/dying at the peak levels of awkward and schadenfreude that follow Harry taking a potion to make him great at flirting in an effort to wrongfoot/seduce? Malfoy. Ahh, I can’t even spoil the hilarious, horrible things that happen…you just have to read it…maybe…if you can stand it…ahh!

Misunderstood: idiopathicsmile’s World Ain’t Ready, Les Mis, Enjolras/Grantaire, 186k, 2015

I wasn’t sure which trope to slot WAR into here, but I’m going with misunderstood because over the course of this YA-novel-fic, Graintaire is misunderstood by a lot of people, most significantly himself and his fake-boyfriend-for-social-justice Enjolras. Like, I don’t even need to ramble, starry-eyed about how amazing this story is, how I’ve already read through the World Ain’t Ready tumblr tag freaking out, how many times I’ve listened to “Shake the Sheets” in the past couple weeks; everyone knows this story is the Best Thing Ever. Ugh, also, the ~2006 high school suburbia era setting was just spot on. Other things that will be amazing forever: the adorable friend group being adorable, Bahorel’s backpack of bouncy balls and mix CDs, R being hella short, the hugging and bedsharing, R’s sparkly purple toenails, Jehan’s shoes, I could go on all day. Thank you to all the Inception loves who linked and linked and re-linked WAR until I finally read it. <3

Age regression/de-aging: Wordsplat’s 24 Hours, Marvel, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, 11k, 2015

I am not very familiar with this trope, but I enjoyed this silly, sweet little piece where Steve and Tony get de-aged to their six year old selves for a while.

Competence: idiopathicsmile’s Margin of Error, Brooklyn 99, Rosa Diaz/Amy Santiago, 8k, 2015

Rosa and Amy end up as roommates! Captures the B99 tone completely. Of course Rosa has a kitchen axe...

[omeglerpavengersotp]

You: Bruce was never good with people or new places. The first day of being in a new college with new people sounded like an absolute nightmare. He decided to stay quiet till he graduates, lay on his dorm room bed and read his new physics textbook. He hoped was to have a roommate who is equally quiet as him and even if he doesn't, he didn't want to talk at all.

Stranger: And of course, Bruce got the opposite of what he wanted- which should have been expected, honestly, considering his luck. Tony swung open the door to his new flat, a wide grin on his face and two 24 packs of beer in his arms. "Thirsty, kid?" he asked, striding into the room and setting the large boxes down on his bed and stepping aside as the movers came in to unload his belongings. The rich kid didn't intend on unpacking himself.

You: The quiet nerdy boy felt a headache when he heard a loud bang. This new guy was everything that Bruce didn't like in a person. The smell of beer was alluring but not enough to feel friendly with this ruffian. "No thanks. Don't tell me you are assigned in this room as well."

Stranger: Tony arched an eyebrow at the smaller male. "I am. Is that a problem?" he questioned, his tone indifferent rather than threatening. The billionaire's son ushered the moving people out, figuring he could finish of his last box or two of personal items. Around him the men had already set up his small work desk and bookshelf, then finished off with the mini fridge and left. Tony stuffed the beers promptly inside, only after taking one out and cracking it open for himself, however.

You: Bruce watched the whole process with mouth agape. Where the hell did these people come from? They didn't even look like this kid's relatives - unless that guy is a laze bag and hired all these people to unpack the items for him. Is that- is that a fridge?! All these noises were another migraine to Bruce. "Who are you?" He asked and tried to ignore the pain that made him feel frustrated already.

Stranger: Tony gave him another look, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "Howard Stark. Stark Industries? I'm sure you heard of him. I'm his son, Tony." he explained anyways, sinking down onto the twin bed with a heavy sigh, as if he was the one who had done all of the work. He tipped the cool beer can back, happily chugging at the drink. "And you are?"

You: Of course Bruce knew the name Stark. Their technologies was one of the world's best. He was fascinated with all the products the Starks has made and dreamed of meeting the CEO himself. That was until he realised that Howard's son was a spoiled rich kid. Who in the world brag's their parents name in such snobbish manner? "Didn't know we had to say fathers' names before we introduce our own. Bruce Banner, son of Brian Banner."

Stranger: The young man pointedly ignored the other's comment, slipping off the edge of his bed to offer a hand to shake. "Nice to meet you, Bruce." he grinned, taking another long gulp of his beer can again.

Stranger: "What're you going to major in?" he then didn't hesitate to ask, arm still extended outwards.

You: "Nuclear science, specialising in gamma ray research." Bruce hesitantly reached out and gave a subtle handshake. He didn't want to get too friendly with this prince-charming of science world.

Stranger: Tony smiled, going over to sit back on the edge of his bed. "Gamma nerd, huh?" he teased. "Me too. Well- I'm not majoring in it, but it is pretty fascinating." Off the bat, the billionaire's son was trying to relate. He figured if he's stuck with this guy for this semester, he might as well become friends. "You sure you don't want a beer?" he offered. "I've got plenty."

You: Bruce honestly wanted some quiet time, but it seemed like Tony won't stop asking him all these questions. Tony didn't seem as bad as he first thought - it's just that Bruce himself over-stress when encountering new people. Maybe he will find Tony less annoying with the help of beer.  "Fine, give me one. You do realise that you are a nerd too, right?"

Stranger: He retrieved a chilled beer from the fridge and tossed it over to Bruce, a faint smirk pulling at his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Except I have money, and looks.." he shrugged, coming off as egotistical as he was often said to be. But that was just bravado, just a show he liked to put on.

You: Did Tony just compliment himself? Bruce needed to get drunk faster. "Sure. Just don't bring any girls here and expect me to stay out while you two have your private business."

Stranger: "I'll try." he grinned and winked back at Bruce.Tony tipped back the can and finished it off, crushing it noisily before tossing it into the bin. "I could let you join in on the fun, though, if you like. Get you a few girls to yourself."

You: Bruce's face went red at the idea of even being with a girl. "Whoa, hold on. I am here to study, not to donate saliva." He hurriedly finished his can and grabbed another one from that fancy little mini fridge.

Stranger: "Eh, well I'm here for both. Let me know if you change your mind, though. I'd be more than happy to help." Tony grinned, moving to grab another can from the fridge just after Bruce. "Are you going to orientation?" the rich young man then asked. "It's in roughly 45 minutes."

You: Bruce checked his watch and groaned. He completely forgot about it and kept chugging himself cans of beer. It would be a disadvantage to get lost in college for his first class as well. "Yeah, can't miss out on that." He stood up and swayed a bit.

Stranger: "Maybe...offering you a beer wasn't the best way to go." Tony said, standing up and holding Bruce's elbow to provide some means of balance (which he was clearly lacking). "You sure you can make it?"

You: His vision was a bit blurry, but he could sort walk.  "Thanks. I am not drunk, just a bit dizzy." Bruce smiled at his roommate, thinking maybe Tony is not a bad guy after all.

Stranger: "Sure about that, Banner..? Wouldn't want you attending orientation just to puke on your new professors." he chuckled, the firm hand still on the other's elbow. "It is just across campus, though. If you really feel up to walking."

You: "It's okay." No it wasn't. He couldn't continue to proceed any further on half of the way to the other campus. To seem less suspicious, he sat on a bench and closed his eyes for a bit. "Umm, you can go on without me. I would hate to be a burden. Just tell me what they've said at the orientation though."

Stranger: Tony snorted, still standing closely to Bruce, even as he sat down on the bench. "I actually wasn't planning on going in the first place. I'm not an 'orientation', 'welcome to college' kind of guy. It's all bullshit anyways." he said, sitting back down on the bench with a soft sigh.

You: "Then why did you even follow?" Bruce rested his head that felt way too heavy on Tony's shoulder. He just needed sometime to snap out of it, but the drowsiness crept on him second by second.

Stranger: "Because I'm not about to let you go wandering around campus drunk." he excused, a faint smile playing across his lips. "Though, that would be pretty funny." Tony teased, wrapping an arm around Bruce's waist and helping him stand up. "Let's go back to the room."

You: "You are way nicer than I thought, Stark." Bruce didn't even care what he was saying on the way back to their dormroom. He drunk-rambled about how waste of a money it was to have people unpack Tony's stuff, the problem with science nowadays and this report that he was nearly finished of writing for his personal research.

Stranger: Tony smiled as he listened to Bruce ramble on and on, sometimes incoherently, about this and that. About his reports, about gamma radiation effects, about moving in and being spoiled.. He chuckled, leading the drunken man back to their dorm room and helping him to his bed. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But my dad already payed for the movers, so I figured I might as well put them to good use." he shrugged, taking a seat on the edge of Bruce's bed.

You: "What a daddy's boy. If it was my dad I would have been..." smacked. No, Bruce was not going to tell Tony, someone who is already better than him in every aspect, about his abusive father. "...no fuck that. Are you going to sit on there for the whole night? What time is it? Is this even my bed?"

Stranger: "I won't if you don't want me to, it is your bed." Tony answered, rising from his place and moving to sit across the room on his own. "And it's like, 7 in the afternoon." he informed, leaning back against his small mound of pillows stacked against the headboard.

You: "I don't mind, anyway. I haven't felt this comfortable with another person in years. Did I mention that you are quite cool for a rich guy?" Bruce knew alcohol usually made him feel bolder, but he never felt quite talkative as he was right now. It was 7 and he already felt like passing out in seconds. Every effort was being made to stay awake and talk more to this charming new friend.

Stranger: Tony grinned, basking in the praise he so rarely genuinely received. "Maybe once or twice, but I don't mind hearing you say it again." he joked with a soft laugh. "Go ahead and get some sleep, Bruce. Classes are early tomorrow anyways." he assured, absently hoping his new room mate would be a heavy sleeper.

You: With a nod, Bruce fell asleep in instant. He briefly thought about taking his glasses off, but the drunken voice in him said 'fuck it' and he gladly obeyed it.

You: (i feel like this is going to be a really long and enjoyable rp :D just in case i disconnect, my email is strepolicus.k@gmail.com if you want to continue)

Stranger: The young man, after waiting a long moment to assure Bruce really was asleep, quietly moved across the room and slipped the wire frames from his nose and set them on them on the nightstand with a faint smile. Tony then flipped out his phone and lounged on his bed, texting a trusted friend to come over.

Stranger: (alright! c: )

You: There were strange rustling noise in Bruce's sleep, but his eyes were too heavy to wake up. Without suspecting anything, he continued to explore his dream world.

Stranger: After multiple rejections from his multiple fake friends, Tony, in a huff of anger, got dressed to go out, and go out he did. The billionaire was well known for being a party boy, and there was good reason for that label. It had to be around 3 in the morning when he finally got back to the dorm, the stench of alcohol heavy on his breath and his clothes disheveled. He lead the partner he'd chosen to take home with him to the bed, eagerly laying back and letting the other make quick work of his jeans and shirt. It was heated, and drunken. Far from the intimacy Tony really desired, but he would take what he could get.

You: The alarm clock rang at 7am and Bruce's head was still heavy. He dragged himself out of the bed and slowly made it to the bathroom. Everything was too bright and his eyes were still dry to see anything properly. As finished his shower and walked back to his bed with only a towel around his waist, he bumped into some. A naked girl/boy (depends on what gender Tony's one night stand partner was) "...oh god."

Stranger: The young blonde male startled slightly, his eyes wide. "Sorry...I uh, I'm about to leave, so..." he awkwardly trailed off, moving quickly to recover his clothing and redress.  Tony was still fast asleep in his bed, entirely nude and sprawled out against the sheets. His breaths came deep and even, the alcohol of the previous night still keeping him deep in his own slumber.

You: Bruce stood still for a while to work out what has happened, but that didn't get him ready for his class. Something clicked his head after he got fully clothed, and the image of rainbow appeared in his brain. He made himself a jug of water and pour it on his roommate who stink of musk and alcohol.  "You do realise that we have same class in the morning?"

You: we have the* same class

Stranger: Tony jolted awake at the cool splash of water, promptly sitting up in bed and jerking away from the source of it. "W-What the Hell, Bruce??" he questioned, his mind already throbbing with the warning signs of a rough hangover. "I don't even go on the first day...they don't even teach. It's just more 'welcome' bullshit." he groaned, looking down as he scrubbed at his face with his palms.

You: "Better than being unproductive from a drunken one night stand." Bruce tone returned to his usual tone of indifference. He wasn't drunk enough to be nice to the playboy. He threw blanket on naked Tony because the last thing he wanted to see was someone's dick flailing around in this beautiful morning. He couldn't help but to feel slightly disappointed that Tony was a player. Bruce clearly didn't know the new guy well enough.

Stranger: The color almost immediately drained out of Tony's face, and fear took place in his eyes. "W-Wait, Bruce...you won't tell anyone, right?" he asked, standing up a little too quickly from the bed with the blanket wrapped loosely around his waist He swayed, nearly stumbling over. "Y-You won't tell anyone it was a guy, at least?" he nearly pleaded.

You: That sudden movement gave Bruce a fright. He grabbed on Tony's arm and helped him sit down properly on the bed. "Well as you haven't noticed yesterday, I hate talking to people. So no, I don't and won't gossip with people."

Stranger: Tony let out a soft breath of relief. Bruce had no clue the kind of power he would have over him if he were to blackmail him with what he'd seen. "Thanks.." he said quietly, his eyes sliding shut in an attempt to end the spinning in his brain. "You're not...you don't..." he huffed with frustration, trying to find the right words to say. "I-I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable now." Tony settled on apologizing.

You: "Uh- no worries." Bruce stood up and brought Tony a cup of water. He thought Tony was a guy who has ample of confidence and zero fucks to give, but now he seemed more... insecure. This was far from the quiet roommate he hoped for, but he didn't want to leave the guy unattended. "How are you even going to hide your... um... preference in bed? Wouldn't that blondie tell everyone?"

Stranger: "I...I paid him off before we left the party...to keep his mouth shut." he mumbled, taking the water gratefully from Bruce with a quiet thank you. He didn't dare meet his room mates eyes, far too ashamed and embarrassed about all of this being out in the open so suddenly. Tony sipped at the cold glass, the liquid bringing minimal relief to his parched throat.

You: Ah of course, he had money to blow; that part didn't surprise Bruce at all. Typical solution that rich kids use. The mood had gotten very awkward and urged Bruce to stand up and pack his bag for the so-called useless class. He just didn't stay in the same room with Tony right now. "So, I, um. I will see you around."

Stranger: "Yeah, see you.." Tony said, waiting until Bruce had shut the door behind him to stand back up and pad into the bathroom. He felt sick to his stomach, partly because the hangover, partly because he'd just fucked up big time with his new friend. With the person he'd be living with for the next few months. What did Bruce think of him now? Probably some spoiled, horny rich kid who paid for a good fucking and didn't care about his classes. Which he knew deep down wasn't true. He let out a heavy sigh of frustration and worry, stepping into the hot water of the shower and beginning to clean himself up.

You: Bruce almost dashed out of his dormroom and arrived at his class thirty minutes earlier than he needed to. He sat down and thought about what happened so far - drunken first encounter and awkward morning revealation. This was far eventful than any other time in his life and Bruce certainly didn't like that. Although Tony was the bringer of this little ripple in his still life, he couldn't fully bring himself to hate that guy. The fact that Tony being non-heterosexual or using money to get away didn't matter much, but Bruce was worried how much trouble that guy may affect in his college life. All these worries lead to that poor face white with fear which didn't even make sense. "...shit." Bruce was seriously confused - why is he feeling like he should care about Tony?

Stranger: Tony had cleaned himself up from the night before, and shaved the stubble peppering along his jaw. He looked tons better, but didn't feel any different. The young man dressed himself and went out for a strong cup of coffee, only to return home after awhile and put together a backpack for tomorrow.  He was antsy all day, worry still settled deep in his gut. What if Bruce let what happened accidentally slip? What if he came back and asked for Tony to move out? He hated the unnerving thoughts that wouldn't just be pushed aside, so quickly he sought distraction. With a beer by his side and his speakers blasting classic rock, Tony began to work at the small desk in his room, writing out equations and mathematics and blueprint schemes, then bringing them to life with cogs and electrical circuits. Engineering was the most satisfying way to escape.

You: When Bruce returned to the corridor to their dorm room, it was after dinner. He bought two boxes of pizza from cafeteria because obviously greasy food act as remedy for hangovers. He pracitsed over and over what he would say as they see each other again. 'Hello. I have some pizza, do you want some?' What is he, a delivery boy? 'Sup. Have some and forget all about what happened. I don't mind at all. Nada. Nope.' Geez, get a grip, Bruce. That sounds way too awkward. Fuck it. He was going in. "Pizza. One for you and one for me. Don't worry. I mean, don't worry about this morning. I mean, yeah." That. Didn't make any sense at all.

Stranger: Tony was still hunkered down over his desk, having shut off his high volume speakers for the sake of the other rooms around them and trading them in for a pair of headphones. The music could be heard blaring from them. He worked with focus on the parts he was constructing, not noticing in the slightest that Bruce had walked in.

You: Feeling rather embarrassed that he was talking to himself, Bruce just put the pizza on top of the miniature fridge and sat on his desk. He sucked at making friends anyway. Feeling no obligation to talk to Tony, Bruce turned his laptop on and focussed on his almost-finished essay.

Stranger: The smell of fresh pizza is what eventually drew Tony away from his work, and he turned around and tugged his headphones out. "Oh, hey. Thanks." he smiled faintly, standing up and eagerly moving to take a slice. "I'll pay you back." he assured before digging in.

You: Noticing that Tony had his music away, Bruce tried the 'small talk' again. "No worries. Um, don't worry about this morning as well, you know. It's alright as long as you don't wake me up." He gave Tony weirdest smile of comfort. That was the best he could do right now.

Stranger: Tony smiled widely right back, relief washing over him. "I won't. Only if you've slept past your alarm." he assured, taking another large bite of the greasy pizza. He'd forgotten to eat all day in his rush to distract himself with work.

Stranger: "So how was the first day?" he asked curiously, keeping the light conversation going.

You: People may classify Bruce's as a typical loner who never interacts with others, but Bruce was too used to it to even care. He sat alone and no one talked to him, so he didn't talk to no one. He listened to the lectures and it was as simple as that. "It was alright. How about you?"

Stranger: "Ah, I just messed with my scraps of metal all day.." Tony hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the bits and pieces scattered across his desk. "Probably should have gone today.." he shrugged softly.

You: "Well you can come tomorrow. As you have said, it really begins on the second lecture." Bruce couldn't help but to notice all these mess on Tony's desk. "So what are you making?"

Stranger: He swiveled in his leather desk chair, turning to face the large mess of screws, wiring, and hunks of metal on his desk. "I think it started out as some sort of alarm clock, but now it's looking more like a remote. Too many programs, I guess. And buttons." he shrugged. "A universal remote, maybe?" he smiled faintly.

You: "You can test it out at the cafeteria. All they play is MTV and other rubbishes." Bruce took few resistors, LED sound device that Tony didn't use and wired a lamp that beeps in rhythmical manner. It looked like one of those cartoon styled firefly.