#very true though anon. you have me down to a science

[todayisafridaynight]

This is based off a text post going around a while back- but for the stream you should make a lil 2D drawing to represent you, and every time you hit Ctrl+Z it cringes/yells

i got two settings it's cringing and yelling ☠️☠️☠️

[httpsryu]

b.f.s (best friend's sister) pt. 1

pairing: mo jihye x fem!reader

summary: it was always a thing, noticing your best friend's older sister. ever since you were a young girl.

category: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers au

genre: fluff, slight angst (?)

warnings: JEALOUSY

a/n: thanks for the anon who requested this! i had so much fun writing this :)

'it's only a year in the name of love'; you tell yourself as you cannot help but to look at your best friend's older sister, jihye who walks past you two and into the kitchen to grab a quick snack.

sure, you know jihye would never return your feelings back (hell, she doesn't even know about them) but it never hurts to dream a little bit over the beyond, right?

"earth to y/n~" your best friend, mo maya hits your head with her pen to grab your attention.

HUH??

"was i zoning out again?" you ask with a grin, already knowing you were in fact daydreaming about mo jihye.

maya nods with her signature upside down smile. "if you keep zoning out, we'll never get done with this science homework."

why is sophomore year so hard? especially, with the dreadful chemistry homework the teacher is constantly assigning.

"you two alright over there?" jihye comes out from the kitchen, her hand holding a bowl full of strawberries. "do you need help?"

maya groans, shaking her head as she grips on the pen. "i want to try to do this myself."

"suit yourself." jihye shrugs, turning to you. "y/n, do you need any help?"

locking eyes with THE mo jihye has got to be one of the best dreams come true, yet alone, this moment of her talking to you is also another dream come true. you cannot help but to nod at the older, scooting over to make room for the other to sit besides you.

jihye lets out a small smile, placing her bowl on the table next to your books before sitting down on the floor.

"hmm, let's see." she leans just a bit closer to you, however, you could smell the florals and a slight sandalwood scent exhibiting from her. "ahh, i remember how to do this."

jihye opens her hand out, waiting for you to drop your pen in.

"huh?" you let out, about to put your own hand in.

the other girl can't help but to laugh at your cuteness. "silly, i meant your pen."

'fuck my life' you curse to yourself mentally, handing the pen to her while feeling heat rush upon your face.

jihye smiles at you, giggling a little bit at how adorable you looked.

'cute.' she can't help but to think to herself, looking at you with adoration. (like a little sister, of course)

maya groans again, constantly erasing the blank line which at this point, is no longer existing. "i need a small snack break, do you want anything, y/n?"

you look up at your best friend, shaking your head at her. "thank you though."

"anytime darling." maya sticks her tongue out, running off into their kitchen.

jihye scoots her bowl of strawberries to you. "your favorite strawberries! here, have some."

"oh. i'm okay, thank you unnie." you smile at the girl besides you.

the older nods, trying to ignore the slight sadness of you rejecting her strawberries by looking back down at the question. "okay, for this one, all you have to do is balance the redox reaction by..."

you blank out, zoning out as you look at the older girl's delicate yet strong features. from her dark yet stunning eyes, her precious moles, her delicate but very standing cheekbones and how her lips always had the pretty shine to them.

it's no fair for the entire universe because mo jihye simply exists.

"do you understand it now?"

HUH? OH-

you take a few seconds to process the fact that you just zoned out again. daydreaming about jihye in front of her! how embarrassing is that?

"ohh, i see!" you lie, hoping she would not question you about it further.

putting the pen down, jihye proudly grins. "great! if you need extra help on anything else, let me know. you already know where my room is so just knock and i'll be here."

"thanks unnie." you shyly say, looking down at your homework.

jihye can't pinpoint how you feel about her. do you not like her? she's always have tried becoming closer to you, ever since she met you while she was 8 and you were 7. now, you guys are 18 and 17.

surely, she would think that you two would've been closer by now, however, you seem to be a bit distance and precautious around her.

"oh. of-of course." jihye manages to say without sounding a bit too upset. "i'll see you around, y/n."

you watch as the love of your life descended up the stairs, letting out a dreamy sigh afterwards. "jihye unnie is so pretty."

however, each moment cannot go unwasted without another one of maya's groan.

"why is there never any ice cream left?" maya exclaims, shutting the freezer with a slam before coming out the kitchen with oreos and pretzels.

you wait, in the usual place where you'll see jihye past by ONCE daily throughout the whole school.

"can we just go now?" kyujin whines, begging to leave for lunch already.

you turn to her with a glare, prompting her to sigh and sit down on the stairs.

"let y/n get her daily one glimpse of jihye." eunchae defends you, scanning the halls for any sign of maya.

maya doesn't know, she never noticed at all. even when you two were children. and she never will know. liking mo jihye is a secret from maya because you know maya won't tolerate it.

but then again; love makes you crazy, right?

at least that's what eunchae argues.

"in 5,4,3,2,1..i see her!" you exclaim, watching from the end of the hallway of jihye walking out with some friends.

kyujin and eunchae looks at how smitten you are, giggling at the way your eyes fall in love with jihye.

"she looks amazing." you barely manage to let out, noticing the way her hair is tied up into a high ponytail, the uniform she wore today compliments her complexion, and the light gloss on her lips always sealed the day for you.

eunchae reaches to tap on your shoulder, exclaiming. "maya's coming over here."

you really don't want to keep this a secret from maya, but having a liking towards her older sister is something you know maya will never let go of.

"act normal, act normal." kyujin clears her throat, taking out her portable mirror to fix her bangs.

your best friend spots you from across the hall, waving at you as her eyes lit up with love.

"you guys know you don't have to wait for me every day, right?"

you shrug, grabbing her arm to hook with yours. "why wouldn't we?"

okay; maybe you were here to see jihye but waiting for maya is also a plus. killing two birds with one stone, right?

"okay, i am starving!" kyujin whines even more, stomping her feet.

jihye comes back from school, expecting to see both you and maya sprawled out in the living room as usual. however, upon opening the door, jihye is met with just her sister.

"oh? no y/n?" jihye asks, taking off her shoes.

the younger sister makes a weird incoherent noise (no surprise there). "a girl asked her out today."

stopping in her tracks of untying her laces, jihye looks up. "a girl?"

maya raises one of her brows up, brushing off the weird reaction from her sister. "yeahh..? she's new, i'm sure it's for help around the library since she works there with y/n now."

"oh. cool."

"yep! anyways, wanna hang out and go for some ice cream?" the younger turns off the t.v, hoping her sister would want to spend time with her today.

jihye contemplates, for a second, she wanted to say no and lock herself in her room to figure out who this new girl is but she ultimately nods. "just let me change out of the uniform and we can head out."

"awesome!" maya smiles excitedly, jumping off from where she was sitting earlier and rushing over to put her shoes on. "we can go to the new shop y/n keeps raving about."

y/n.

jihye does not understand why but her heart has a weird ting at the sound of your name. she wishes you were here to go out and enjoy ice cream with them. she wants you to acknowledge her, to get rid of that awkward weird air around you two.

but, she can't figure out how.

"you're paying, right sis?" the small glint in maya's eyes leads jihye to exclaim a loud laugh.

jihye pats the younger's head. "yes, my treat."

"awesome, i did NOT have any money to my name."

"why did miss. lee gave us so many boxes to sort through?" you grumble to haerin, stretching out your arms after sitting down for a long period of time. "she normally gives us two boxes MAX."

haerin makes a noise in agreement, however her eyes are focusing on you and only you. she loves when you wear that pink bow in your hair, it looks really pretty on you.

"how are you adjusting to school?" you curiously ask, getting up from the chair as you start to tidy up the back room of the library.

the raven-haired girl sighs, folding the boxes flat so it would be easy to recycle. "it's nice, it's just hard making friends."

"that's because you're a shy, quiet, pretty girl." you respond, returning to the middle table to pick up the new books to stack at the back. "i had to introduce myself to you first."

haerin feels her heartbeat racing again, very loudly too. "you think i'm pretty?"

"uh huh! you're cute too! maybe that's why people are intimated to come up to you, i get it though." you giggle, looking back at your friend. "you know, my friends have been telling me about how they've been wanting to become closer to you."

"i don't know about that..y/n.." haerin comes over to you, handing you another stack of new books. "it's just crowded, you know?"

haerin is a really introverted girl, you understand her.

"the vibes is getting depressing in here, haha." haerin giggles, looking at the time on her phone. "we finished pretty early, do you wanna go grab some ice cream? my treat."

at the sound of ice cream, you could've sworn you heard birds chirping a beautiful tune. "um yes!! there's this new shop that my brother and i go to often!"

"well, looks like we're going there." haerin smiles softly at the way you look excited, she can't help but to continue staring.

you laugh, scanning the room as fast as you could before grabbing your backpack. "everything looks good here! front desk looks good too."

"guess the ice cream is calling us." the raven-haired female slings her backpack around, waiting for you to link your arm with hers. "let's go."

jihye blinks. once. twice. and once more.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE WITH A GIRL?

"oo, looks like haerin is finally making her moves." maya giggles behind her hand, looking afar from the entrance of the ice cream shop. "aww, wait, they're kinda cute."

haerin. cute? moves?

jihye doesn't like the sound of this at all.

how old is this haerin girl anyways? is she senior or some college freshie? why is she even allowed to make moves on you?

why has maya not said anything about this haerin girl to her until now? you're like a younger sister to jihye too!

"so..this haerin girl in your grade or something?" jihye asks, pulling out her wallet as she scans the ice cream options.

cookies and cream. you love cookies and cream.

"yeah, she's really quiet." maya replies, her eyes onto both haerin and you. "but, y/n tells us that haerin actually talks and laughs a lot."

you do have that effect on people. jihye just wishes you were more like that with her. is it because she's maya's OLDER sister? jihye doesn't think the one-year age difference isn't the cause of it but could it?

"can i have on scoop of cookies and cream and one scoop of dark chocolate?" jihye gets her card out of her wallet, trying to not think too much of you.

maya giggles, seeing the way haerin's eyes are melting with adoration for you. "look at her! she's basically in love!"

"woah! you guys are too young for love." jihye says with a slight weirdness in her tone, handing the card to the cashier. "besides, you should be focusing on trying to pass chemistry."

maya groans in response. "UGHH, you're only a year older than us."

"besides, i don't think y/n's the type to like someone at the moment." jihye is telling herself a lie, she doesn't even know if you are or aren't interested in all that romance stuff so why does she get to say that about you?

the younger nods, agreeing with her sister. "true. but, haerin can change that hehe."

"oh please." jihye rolls her eyes, handing the scoop of dark chocolate to maya before returning to the worker. "thank you!"

maya scans where to sit, contemplating on scoping in on the date or giving you two privacy since she knows how haerin is as a person.

"let's leave those two alone." maya is about to walk off into a different direction before jihye grabs her wrist.

"wait, let's sit kind of far from them but enough to check out what's going on over there." the brunette haired squints her eyes at how haerin is offering a spoonful of her ice cream to you.

maya raises one of her brows up, AGAIN! why is her sister acting so weird right now?

"i think we should just sit somewhere us..." maya trails off, not wanting to make her sister upset.

the older one ignores the younger, already making her way to a seat that's close enough yet far to spy on both you and haerin. (jihye is just being an overprotective older sister, right? RIGHT?)

upon sitting down, jihye watches as you accepted the spoonful of ice cream from haerin.

"NO!" jihye screams, afraid of you perhaps getting sick from the shared germs.

maya sighs, facepalming herself as she tries to hide her face from you.

you hear a specific voice; well known voice to you, perhaps, your favorite voice. "unnie?"

ehehehe; not me stopping on a cliffhanger :P

next part

march 23rd, 2024; publishing date

[sgiandubh]

I think it's interesting that people (you included) will not find fault with Caitriona. She's on social media but not acknowledging anything or anyone and it's stated well she did it privately. You don't know what she did privately. You stating it doesn't make it true. Stans on Twitter claiming up and down, it's because she has a husband and child, so they can see how weird it looks that she ignores everything, but think of excuses. Lots of people have a spouse and child, yet take 45 seconds to publicly acknowledge things. Sam gets made fun of for selling or promoting (you included) but Cait is precious and fault on her part is not a thing. Why?

Dear Find Fault Anon,

One more time (and I shall always repeat it, until we get somewhere): I am not interested in S and C separately and I dare to think, based on things I do know, that this is not a possibility. Therefore, I shall always consider them as an entity and I am not a Caitriona Balfe stan. Between you and me, I think this is the most ridiculous accusation you could have thought of: usually people shout at me for being an S worshipper, which is not the case.

How could I, Anon? These people are my age, FFS!

Yes, it's very poor manners of C not to thank the Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Films for that award. But you seem to conveniently forget the tiny detail that S did not congratulate her on social media, either. And, lest I forget, neither did Skeleton, who wouldn't have missed the coat-tailing opportunity for the world, I think and who genuinely likes both of them. S is the only one half-heartedly promoting OL on his socials. For example, I know you don't give a shite about him (I do), but did you hear anything else OL related from Vandervaart, since promo was over? Or John Bell, for that matter?

Nope. You haven't. They all seem to have vanished into thin air, only to materialize when *** will finally decide to put us out of our misery and broadcast Season 7B.

To me, this is the sign something is brewing. I have no speculation to offer, just something that makes you go hmmm. Eventually, though, dots will connect, things will make sense. They always do.

You seem unhappy with my pragmatic take on things, by which I stand: we don't know a thing about this situation and can only speculate. And guess what, my dear: neither do you.

But sure, feel free to focus on nitpicking. That makes you the ideal fodder for this silly game currently being played. Focus on Insta follows opening trails that lead you nowhere and on online times, if it makes you happy. I couldn't care less, Anon. But don't come here stirring shit because you are bored and looking forward to engage with someone. You are barking up the wrong tree.

Finally, I hope you know the difference between opinions and facts. If you don't, by now, I am very sorry and somewhat worried for you. Truly.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Hot Chocolate, Ice Skates, and Prince Charming

Heya! I’ve just been quietly reading and rereading all your Roman angst and I hope you’re not tired of writing it because I have an idea 😅 How about some christmas Roman angst? I can��t think of anything specific but there’s that XD Keep up the writing and don’t feel pressured to post the fic on Christmas or to even take the request ❤️- lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie

Hello hello! :) Absolutely adore your work, and I hope you're having a wonderful holiday! I have come with a request for whenever you're up to it. If you would, it would be amazing to see your take on a Christmas-y themed fic with a focus on disabled Virgil. I had a hankering for Hallmark styled Christmas movies lately and I was just thinking about how fun it would be in your style. Hope that's ok! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: some ableist language

Pairings: prinxiety (i am ashamed at how long it took me to fucking remember what their ship name is jfc)

Word Count: 10,080

At some point, Virgil will work out the exact science of how much to say 'yes' to friends who desperately want to do holiday-spirit-festive-stuff because they're his friends and he loves being there to watch them love things, but he also does not enjoy dying of either pain or sensory overload. This year doesn't look to be one of those years where he does better than others, though, if being surrounded by screaming children and off-key grainy speakers belting Mariah Carey for the past Too Fucking Long is any indication. He ducks his head to avoid yet another flying something-or-other as he huddles in on himself, making sure his cane doesn't get knocked over for the fourth time in as many minutes. "Excuse me?" He turns, half expecting someone selling cotton candy or those little memorabilia keychains, and— Oh. Hello. *** Virgil, fed up with the holiday spirit, meets Roman, a man who seems far too good to be true for such an auspicious time of year. From apology hot chocolate to late-night Christmas lights, maybe this year the magic will linger just a little bit longer.

 

At some point, Virgil will work out the exact science of how much to say 'yes' to friends who desperately want to do holiday-spirit-festive-stuff because they're his friends and he loves being there to watch them love things, but he also does not enjoy dying of either pain or sensory overload. This year doesn't look to be one of those years where he does better than others, though, if being surrounded by screaming children and off-key grainy speakers belting Mariah Carey for the past Too Fucking Long is any indication. He ducks his head to avoid yet another flying something-or-other as he huddles in on himself, making sure his cane doesn't get knocked over for the fourth time in as many minutes.

May your days be merry and bright indeed.

He sighs, squinting fruitlessly through the crowd to maybe catch sight of one of his friends' coats or something, before realizing that there's absolutely no way he's going to be able to do that when he can't even see the skating rink over the crowd gathered around the outside. And sure, he could stand, but is he going to? No. So he may as well just continue sitting here until one of them remembers that yeah, he's here too, and wades through the horde to his little bench oasis.

"Excuse me?"

He turns, half expecting someone selling cotton candy or those little memorabilia keychains, and—

Oh.

Hello.

"Sorry," the actual fucking model in front of him says, smiling sheepishly, "is the other half of this bench taken?"

"No," Virgil says way too quickly, but can you fucking blame him? The prettiest human that's ever existed just asked if he could sit down next to him. "Bench, uh—bench is very much not taken, you can—you can sit."

"Thanks."

Well, this might have backfired, because now very-pretty-attractive person is sitting right next to Virgil. And he definitely knows how to deal with this. Yeah, this is fine. This is totally fine. He just has to not keep sneaking glances at his perfectly coiffed hair…or his jawline…or the freckle right on the end of his nose…

"Is there something on my face?"

Shit. Fuck. "No, no, you're fine—" really fucking fine, dude— "sorry, I, uh, didn't mean to stare."

He chuckles. Not fair. Not fair at all. "It's okay, honey, no harm done."

Abort fucking mission, abort fucking mission, Very Pretty Person just called me a pet name, shit fuck holy shit what the fuck am I supposed to do?

He's spared the humiliation of verbal floundering when he chuckles again and holds out his hand. "Roman."

"Virgil." Please God, I hope my hand isn't too sweaty. "Nice, uh, nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Roman nods his chin toward the skating rink. "Taking a break?"

"Oh, I, uh, I'm not really big into ice skating."

"You've dragged yourself all the way to the madhouse and you're not going inside?"

"My friends," he says lamely, waving toward the entrance, "they really wanted to come, so I tagged along."

Roman hums, tilting his head. "Not very nice of them to leave you behind, is it?"

Shut up, he hisses at his heart which starts to pulse threateningly towards his throat, it's fine. This is fine. "It's fine. I don't really mind."

"Yes, being surrounded by extremely loud children and sitting right underneath a speaker," Roman says skeptically, "I'm sure."

"Well, I—uh—"

Roman sighs. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude. It's none of my business, I know."

It totally could be your business though. Like, I would have exactly zero problems if you decided it was your business.

"I'll go with you if you want."

Virgil shakes himself out of his thoughts in time to see Roman smiling softly at him and he needs to figure out what the fuck he just said real fast before he gets lost in it. "Sorry, what?"

"If you want to go skate," Roman repeats, "I know it's hard if you're by yourself, especially in a crowd this big, so I'd be happy to come with if you wanted."

His heart sinks and the cane at his side grows a little colder. He forces himself to smile and shakes his head. "Sorry, I, uh, really am not into skating."

"Come on," Roman coaxes, holding his hand out, "I promise I'll be nice."

This is torture. This is literal actual torture and Virgil is about to sink into this fucking bench because the most attractive person he's ever fucking laid eyes on is asking him to skate and he can't and he's going to have to say no and then Roman might leave and they won't get a chance to talk anymore or he'll find out why Virgil doesn't want to skate and then it might turn out that he's not actually as sweet and charming as he's acting right now and—

Virgil's eyes slide to his cane and back up to Roman's. Roman follows his gaze, a cute little wrinkle between his brows, before his eyes widen in realization and his mouth drops open.

"O-oh," he stammers, "sorry, I thought—I didn't—"

"It's fine," Virgil mutters, picking up his cane and hunching over it.

"There's—well, I suppose there's no coming back from that." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Roman's cheeks turn a little pinker—so cute—and scratch the back of his head. "Can I buy you a hot chocolate to make up for it?"

Virgil's head snaps around. He stares at Roman. "What?"

"As an apology. I'll even make sure they put extra whipped cream on it."

He vaguely hears himself say something about sprinkles and then Roman's grinning again and sliding from the bench and vanishing into the crowd. Part of Virgil wants to immediately get up and run after him, but his hands are still wrapped around his cane and all he can do is hope to God that Roman wasn't some hallucination or fantasy and there really is a cute guy going to but him apology hot chocolate.

Five minutes pass.

Ten.

Fifteen.

No sign of Roman.

Virgil checks his phone and sees nothing—no text messages from his friends, no alarm, nothing except the battery he really should have charged before leaving the house and he now has to use extremely sparingly. The sinking feeling in his stomach is back; maybe Roman just wanted a quick and easy exit away from the pathetic whelp with the cane, or maybe he realized that there was something better he could be doing. He wouldn't blame him, not really. He might call him an ableist asshole the next time—if they ever saw each other again, but—

"Sorry, I'm so sorry," he hears breathlessly, "the line was miles long and then they couldn't find the sprinkles."

He turns, hardly daring to believe it, when he sees a massive cup of still-steaming hot chocolate with a mountain of whipped cream and red and green sprinkles held out toward him. He pries one of his hands from his cane and takes it, looking between it and Roman with disbelief. Roman smiles at him again and nods to the cup.

"Is that enough whip-cream?"

"Yeah," Virgil says faintly, "that's—I don't think I've ever seen this much before."

"Well, you deserve it," Roman says like an asshole because now Virgil has to down like half of it in one go to prevent him from seeing how fucking red he gets at that one little comment and he nearly burns his tongue off for it. "Whoa, whoa! Slow down, no one's gonna take it away from you, don't burn your mouth!"

"Too late."

Roman just chuckles again, like he's fond, like that's something they do, and he leans back against the bench. "Suit yourself, honey."

And now he has to do it again. Honestly.

You could not pay Virgil to remember what all they talk about. He doesn't know. He's too busy memorizing the crooked half-smile Roman has when he's vaguely amused by something, or the cute wrinkle that forms when he's thinking or concerned, or the way he keeps reaching out to almost touch Virgil's shoulder before changing his mind last-minute and leaning on the bench instead. He wants to reach back for him so bad but he's trying to hold the hot chocolate and his cane at the same time. His cheeks hurt from smiling and blushing and apparently Roman is really good at saying little things to make that worse. Does he remember what they are? No, because he's not paying attention to shit like that.

They're laughing at something—again, who knows what—when Roman checks his phone and sighs.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. But it was really nice to meet you and sit with you."

"You, uh, you too."

Roman grins and stands. "Happy Holidays, Virgil," he says, and disappears into the crowd.

"You too," he says, way too late, just as he realizes that he didn't even ask for Roman's number.

He looks down at the dregs of the hot chocolate and finds himself smiling slightly.

Maybe being dragged out here wasn't the worst thing after all.

2.

He truly doesn't expect to see Roman ever again, and he may have moped around the house for a few hours upon realizing that, so it takes him by surprise when he ends up sitting in the corner of some mall as his friends go last-minute shopping and a familiar voice calls out.

"Virgil?"

He almost breaks his neck with how fast he turns around. "Roman?"

Roman grins at him, a bag over his arm, before nodding to the other chair at the table. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Yes! I mean, no. I mean—please sit down."

"That's on me, I should've asked it in a less-annoying-to-answer way." He sets the bag on the floor and tucks his hands into his pockets. "Can I be really honest with you?"

"Sure."

"I wanted to run back to the bench the second I left because I realized I didn't ask you for your number. So, can I do that now before I forget again?"

"Yes," he says, pulling his phone out before Roman's even finished speaking, "yes, absolutely, go ahead. I wanted to do the same thing."

They exchange numbers and Virgil's in the middle of totally not putting a bunch of cute things after Roman's name because he has standards and a reputation—but come on, his last name is literally 'Prince,' what the fuck is he supposed to do?—when Roman calls his name and he looks up, surprised. Roman laughs and holds up his phone.

"Can I take a photo? For your contact?"

"Uh—um—sure?"

"Not that I'd forget what your pretty face looks like," Roman says as he takes a picture in the middle of Virgil blushing like an idiot, "but in case I want a reminder."

This. This is what he didn't remember. That Roman is apparently really good at being charming—literally Prince Charming, this is fake, this isn't real, people like Roman don't actually exist, where are the camera crews and reality show hosts?

"Alright, now that's out of the way…" Roman trails off when he notices that Virgil's still staring at the table, his cheeks bright red. "Hey, you okay?"

"I—uh—you—"

He chuckles. "Still stunnable, I see? Sorry, honey, am I being mean?"

"Okay, well, it's hard to tell how sincere you're being when you're still doing it, so—"

Roman throws his head back and laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay, you got me."

"Rude."

"You're still smiling at me, though."

"Shut up."

"Your smile is cute."

"Shut up," he mumbles again, trying to hide his face in his sleeves. Unfortunately, that means he's not balancing his cane against the table anymore and it falls to the ground with a loud clatter. A few people walking by turn to look. He goes to pick it back up only to realize Roman's already doing it, leaning it back against the table. "Oh, uh, thanks."

"Of course." He inclines his head toward some of the stores nearby. "You here by yourself?"

"No. Friends scrambling for last-minute stuff."

Roman makes a noise. "I'm not getting a fantastic impression of these friends of yours who drag you places and then leave you."

"They're not so bad, they know to pick places with easy seating so I can take breaks when I need them. Besides, they know better than to take me in certain places."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Apparently there's only so many times I can call out fancy soaps for smelling like ass before I get politely asked to leave, but—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Roman says, sitting forward with a grin, "you gotta tell me everything now, you can't just leave it there."

And so, Virgil dutifully recounts the story of the time some of his friends decided a fun way to spend the afternoon was to go into the fancy soap and other scented things shop to 'browse,' when in reality they were just going to see what the most obscure and specific scent was and mock it mercilessly. They managed to find everything from 'Bourbon-soaked Cotton' to 'Miasma,' which of course prompted Virgil to point out that they really didn't think that one through because miasma was the 'bad air' that supposedly caused things like the Black Death and you probably didn't want a candle called 'Miasma' in your house, which logically led to them all pretending to be plague doctors by wrapping up the complimentary cardboard box/bag things and holding them in front of their faces like plague doctor masks and acting like they'd discovered some new herbs to treat the nefarious diseases with.

Needless to say, they were politely asked to never come back ever again, and they definitely kept pretending to be plague doctors as they were 'escorted from the premises.'

Roman's fully collapsed back into the chair, shaking with laughter, by the time Virgil finishes telling the story. He has to stop and just look at him, because of course Prince Charming is really fucking pretty when he's laughing, and then he looks up at Virgil with that soft smile again and he can literally feel himself melting inside his hoodie.

"Well," he says through the last of the laughter, "I can see why they asked you not to come back."

"Yeah, well…" He shrugs. "Plus, if my friends actually want to get any shopping done, they decided it's best if I don't tag along so they can actually, you know, focus."

"Can't say I blame them, then. I'd be distracted by you too."

"Roman!"

"Okay, okay, I'm done, I promise." He grins. "I think your face might explode, it's so damn red."

'Yeah, well, whose fault is that?"

Roman holds a hand over his chest and bows halfway, like he's actually out of some period drama and wearing a fancy knight's costume instead of a button-down coat and scarf. "My deepest apologies, Virgil."

"Yeah, yeah, knock it off," Virgil grumbles as he chuckles.

They sit there in the quiet for a few more moments as a few groups of kids run by. The lights strung up around the pillars and various levels of the mall sparkle with that faux-snow-wet look as Christmas carols play over the speakers, Virgil taps his fingers absentmindedly to the beat, watching an ad play inside one of the stores.

"Okay, I have a potentially rude question that you can totally tell me to shut up for."

Part of Virgil immediately raises its hackles, but he turns to look at him. "Okay?"

Roman nods to his cane. "Where did you get your cane? My great-aunt uses one and she's been complaining about how boring her current one is for like, as long as I can remember, and yours is sick as hell."

It is pretty cool—it has this purple holo body and Virgil's stuck all sorts of stickers to it and the base is really nice and it's got an adjustable length too. "I can text you the name of the place?"

"Yeah, that'd be great, thank you."

He sends it off and puts his phone on the table. "That wasn't a rude question, by the way. That was fine."

Roman's shoulders visibly slump. "Okay, great, I wasn't—I really wasn't sure. I don't—sorry."

Virgil's eyes widen slightly as Roman starts to…fluster?

"I don't know a lot of people who use mobility aids on the regular and so I don't…really know what sort of things are appropriate to ask."

"You're fine," he says, still a little bemused, "you're doing great."

But then Roman smiles at him all soft again and he has to look away and cough before he starts getting all red again.

"Besides, you're right. My cane is sick as hell and it deserves compliments."

"It's definitely the coolest one I've ever seen. How did you get the stickers to stay so well?"

"There's this Etsy seller who specifically made them to go on mobility aids—she has forearm crutches and hers are decked out with cool shit, so I bought a couple for mine just to try them out and then, well, I couldn't stop."

"Could you send me the name of that place too? My aunt might want some."

"Sure, yeah, give me a moment to find it."

As he looks through his phone, he catches sight of Roman watching him. Not in a creepy way, he's just doing that fond thing where he's got his head slightly tilted and he's still smiling like he's just happy to be here with Virgil and he needs to stop thinking about it right now before his ears start going bright red too.

"There. Sent."

"Thanks, Virgil." He checks his phone just to make sure he's gotten it before he stands up. "I'd love to sit here all day with you, but I do have to run."

"Oh. Okay."

"I'll text you, okay? If you're not—I mean, if you don't have plans, I'd really like to see you again."

"Yeah," he says, grinning like an idiot, "I'd like that too."

He's still staring off in the direction Roman went when his friends come to tell him that they may have gotten kicked out of another store.

3.

Prince Charming: I have another potentially rude question.

Virgil tries not to grin when he sees Roman's text. He knows better than that. Absolutely not.

He fails.

Me: what's up

Prince Charming: How far of a walk is too long of a walk before you need a break?

Me: walking is actually fine it's standing that makes me want to die

Me: i mean i'm not trying to hike a mountain

Prince Charming: No, I suppose that makes sense.

Me: why?

Prince Charming: One of my favorite things to do this time of year is go to the Tadford Park Conservatory. They have this really cool thing they do to get all festive and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? They have places to sit on the way and it's basically a greenhouse so we don't need to lug big heavy coats around.

Virgil quickly looks up 'Tadford Park Conservatory' and scrolls through the pictures of the plants and decorations. Honestly, it looks stunning. He's about to say as much when he gets another text,

Prince Charming: And I have a car so I could pick you up and we could drive.

Me: that sounds really amazing when do you want to go?

Prince Charming: Are you free tomorrow?

Me: sure am

Prince Charming: Can I pick you up at 9?

Me: absolutely see you then

Prince Charming: Perfect :)

Only after Virgil's put the phone down and gone back to what he was doing does he realize he has no idea whether this is supposed to be a date or not.

Is it? No, Roman would've said. Right? That seems like something you'd say. You'd be like: 'hey, I want to do this thing with you as a date.' Or 'hey, I want to take you out and I thought we could do this.' Something like that. Something that puts a big and flashy 'this is a date' sign on it. Roman didn't do that. And Roman seems like the person who would do that. Right? Maybe Virgil should ask. That was reasonable, to ask if something was a dare. But then what if Roman hadn't intended for it to be a date? Then it would get really awkward and Virgil would have to backtrack and then Roman might offer to make it a date out of pity and then it would be even more awkward and Virgil wouldn't actually get to enjoy anything they did because he'd be too busy thinking about how awkward it was and then it would be ruined and—

No. He's just gonna act like he's going to do something fun with a friend. He does that all the time.

Just so happens that Roman's Roman.

It's gonna be fine.

So fine.

He really is so fine—okay, that's enough of that.

He definitely stresses over what he's wearing for way too long before he gets a knock on his door and he just throws a coat over it before he can overthink it and goes to meet Roman. Roman opens his car door for him like he's really some prince that crawled out of a storybook and it doesn't even feel like he's doing it out of pity, like he'd do it even if Virgil didn't have a cane, which is another thing to fret about as Roman drives them to the conservatory. As they walk inside, Virgil goes fumbling for his wallet only for Roman to reveal that he's already gotten their tickets, scanning the code at the front and going over to the coat closet.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Oh, it's on me." Roman hangs up his coat and huffs a laugh when he sees the way Virgil's staring at him. "What's that for?"

"No, really, I saw those ticket prices, there's no way—"

"My mom has a membership, we basically got in for free. It's okay, honey, you don't have to worry about it."

Virgil mumbles something about pet names being unfair as Roman chuckles and they start walking toward the doors. A wave of warm air washes over them as they step through and Virgil's eyes widen as he looks around at the plants and decorations hanging from the ceiling. It's like he's stepped into some alternate reality, trees curling up and over him in a green ceiling as vibrant flowers bloom impossibly bright, catching the glistening light as the giant ornaments overhead twist and turn in the faint breeze. The faint smell of freshly watered plants mixes with the pine and gingerbread from the lobby as they start walking and he can't pay attention to where he's going because every few seconds, he sees something else incredible. Bright blue flowers. A tree with bark like peeling parchment. A crawling vine straight out of a fairytale book. Roman keeps him as much on the path and out of the crowd as possible and he can't even spare the attention to thank him.

"It's beautiful," he manages as they near another door, "it's so pretty, Roman."

"Yes, it is."

"If you're looking at me while you say that, I swear to God—" Roman pushes open another door and they start into a room filled with flowering trees— "holy shit."

Roman chuckles and guides them to a bench underneath one of them. "Do you want to sit for a second or keep going?"

"How close is the next bench after this one?"

"Two rooms down, I think."

"I can make it until there."

They walk through a room of twisting and turning jungle trees, ferns and other smaller plants hiding between the leaves. They pass a pond of koi fish swimming underneath a massive tree. The room with the bench has a long, clear pool in its center, flanked by paths through what look to be walls of moss and other ferns, a waterfall at the far end. Roman walks them carefully over one of the paths to a bench tucked into a little alcove, through which they can see the pool and the bright green foliage on the other side. Virgil sits down, still spellbound at the room.

"I'd ask if you were enjoying yourself," comes Roman's voice, "but I think I know the answer."

"It's like I've been transported to some fantasy realm, this is so cool. How have I never known this existed?"

"A lot of people don't come here. Which is good because I'm selfish and I really like when there's not a lot of crowds." Roman sits back, one leg slung over the other. "But—I don't know why. Maybe it's because they think plants are boring or something."

"They're fucking wrong."

He chuckles. "Yeah, I think so too. I'm glad you like it."

"Okay, it's my turn to ask a potentially rude question."

"Shoot."

"Why here? I mean, it's gorgeous, and the decorations really help, but it's not—a conservatory isn't really what I think of when I think of festive stuff."

Roman sighs. Ripples from the waterfall spread out along the pool's surface. "I don't know, really. I think it's just because holidays are really hectic for me and this place…never really feels like that. It's always sort of like this, calm, serene. Quiet. I think…I think I just really like that."

Virgil turns at the wistful note in Roman's voice, watching him send one of those soft smiles at the pool. The greenery around them almost seems to curve, like the petals of a flower around its center. Roman…fits here, like he really is some prince that even nature itself can't help but adore.

…fuck, he's so far gone.

He loses track of time as they sit there, just enjoying the still quiet of the room. The ferns have their own smell, soft and sweet, that mixes with the crisp dampness of the water as some misters turn on to water the plants. He holds his hand out in front of one, just for a second, watching the droplets catch on his hand and sparkle as he turns them in the light. Roman's side presses against his after a while and he finds himself lost slightly to the solid comfort of it. And then, well, then that's all he thinks about for a while.

At least until his stomach growls and ruins the moment.

"Come on," Roman chuckles, "the food's not far from here."

The cafe bustles with energy after being in that quiet room for so long, and Virgil quickly finds a table to sit at while Roman goes and gets the food. He does have to slightly threaten Roman into letting him pay for their lunch, but Roman concedes after a while and goes to stand in line. He pulls out his phone to send the few pictures he remembered to take to the group chat, when suddenly—

"Shame on you, young man!"

Virgil startles so badly that he almost drops his phone. He looks up to see a stern older woman glaring at him, hands on her hips. "Uh—"

"How dare you?" she says again, wagging her finger at him. "You go and find whoever you stole that from and give it back right this instant!"

"I don't—what—what are you talking about?"

"What do you mean, what am I talking about?" She points at his cane. "That does not belong to you! You're old enough to know better, especially to steal something like that, your parents would be so disappointed in you!"

Oh. Oh, fuck, it's one of these. Disgust and embarrassment crawl up his throat as a few people at the surrounding tables start to look over. He swallows. "Actually, that is mine."

The woman scoffs. "What do you think, I was born yesterday?"

"That is my cane," he says, voice a bit firmer. "I bought it with my money, I use it for my disability. I didn't steal it. It's my cane."

She looks him up and down over the rim of her glasses. "You? You expect me to believe a young person like you uses a cane? What on earth could you possibly need a cane for?"

And really, he should be used to it by now, he's had ableist assholes like this yelling at him for actual years, he shouldn't be this upset over it. But goddamnit, this day was going well. He was having a good time. And now someone is telling him his disability doesn't exist and he should be ashamed for using a mobility aid and he can feel his eyes starting to water even as he struggles for words.

"Excuse me."

Roman. He looks up to see Roman setting a tray with their food on the table, his hand coming to rest on Virgil's shoulder.

"Would you like to explain why you're bothering someone you don't know?"

The woman splutters. "I—well, I—"

"It is none of your business what someone else does to take care of themselves," Roman says, cutting her off firmly, "you do not get to make assumptions about someone else's life and act as though you know the truth. No one would be so rude as to insist you don't need glasses, would they?"

"People your age don't need canes!"

"And people your age should know to treat people better." Roman gives her a look that's so profoundly disappointed that he can see a few people wince in sympathy. "This time of year is supposed to be about sharing compassion and kindness. I hope for your sake you learn that this season."

He turns his back pointedly and the woman shuffles off without another word.

"Are you okay?" Roman asks, his voice so soft and worried that it almost gives Virgil whiplash. "I'm so sorry that happened."

"It's not your fault," he mumbles, "and…thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for being a decent person, honey."

"Yeah, well…" Roman's hand is still on his shoulder and he dares to lean into it a little. "Still. Thanks."

Roman still looks a little worried but he pushes Virgil's food towards him. "Here. Eat."

"Thanks."

Roman doesn't sit across from him. He sits next to him and after a moment, lets his leg rest against Virgil's. Virgil almost chokes on his sandwich but quickly shakes his head when Roman looks up, concerned.

"Is this alright?"

"Yeah, it's…more than alright." Virgil smiles. "You're really great, Roman."

Nice one, asshole.

"So are you." After a moment, his smile widens. "When we're finished, do you want to go see the desert room? There's a bench in there too."

"Cactuses?"

"I think it's technically cacti, but yes."

"Don't make me look up grammar while I'm eating."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

4.

Virgil gets another text the night before he's supposed to get lunch with Roman. He peers at his phone, sitting up from his horrible position on the couch.

Prince Charming: Hey, I'm sorry to do this so last minute, but my boss really wants me to come in in the morning tomorrow. I don't think I'll be able to come pick you up to go to the place.

Me: is there public that can get me there?

Prince Charming: You'd have to walk a fair ways and it's not like it's nice outside right now.

Virgil glances at the snowstorm outside and winces at the thought of all the ice. He's about to figure out a way to propose a rain check—or snow check—without upsetting either of them when his phone buzzes again.

Prince Charming: I mean, if it's not too much of an ask, I could always pick you up before I go into work and you could come with me? I don't think it'd be longer than a few hours at the most and then we could just go straight there afterwards.

Me: what do you mean come to work with you?

Prince Charming: I could pick you up and drive us both to the arena. There are the offices and stuff upstairs where you could sit and work or do something until I'm done then we could go?

Me: would your boss care that there's just some random person with you?

Prince Charming: You're not just some random person, Virgil. And no, he won't care.

Virgil's too caught up in the fact that Roman said he's not just some random person to really think about it when he sends back a 'yes,' nor did he really read the part where Roman mentioned an arena.

But sure enough, that's what they pull up to the next morning and Virgil's left blinking at the giant sign that says 'Stadium Entrance' as they get out of the car. He glances at Roman, who looks truly nonplussed as he leads the way to the door. He waves at the person at the front—Virgil waves too on instinct—and nods toward the elevator.

"I told them I was bringing someone, you can go on up and find somewhere to sit, if you want. I can come with too if you'd rather?"

"You, uh, you can go. I think I can find something."

"If anyone tries to give you shit, just say you're with me, okay?"

He huffs a laugh. "What, are you some kind of famous person?"

Roman laughs too, but it comes out a bit too forced. "Something like that."

And before he can ask what the fuck that means, Roman's walking off down another hallway and Virgil just shrugs and goes to find somewhere to sit. The elevator takes him up to something that looks almost like an office and he wanders into an open room, sitting down and shooting off a text to let Roman know where he is. He gets a quick acknowledgment and that he'll let him know when he's done. He switches over to the thing he'd been looking at in the car and loses himself quickly in the mindless scroll of the Internet.

He's not sure how much time passes before he glances around for an outlet to charge his phone. He drags a chair over to the corner and plugs in the charger, looking around as he waits for the little beep that lets him know it's working. There's a set of screens on the far wall, each showing a different camera, he presumes. One of them looks out at a loading dock, one of them shows a skating rink where someone's training, one of them shows another empty rink, and the last one has another door—probably a secondary exit of some kind. He shrugs and looks back at his phone.

"Excuse me?"

He looks up to see a man with glasses and a big coffee mug with cat whiskers peering through the door. "Uh, hi?"

"Are you supposed to be in here?"

"I, um, I'm with Roman? He said I could find somewhere up here to sit?"

"Oh, you must be Virgil!" Virgil blinks as the man grins and comes over to offer his hand. "I'm Patton, nice to meet you."

"Hi, Patton. Uh—you are? Sorry."

"No, it's fine, you're all good. I'm one of the event coordinators for the arena. Roman talks about you all the time, I was wondering if we'd ever get to meet you."

"Yeah, I, uh…nice to meet you too." Virgil shuffles a bit. "You, uh, have you worked with Roman for long?"

"Sort of—I don't work with Roman directly, but I see him when he's booked here. They've decided to train here this year, which is exciting, but he's so busy all the time." Patton grins, crossing his arms. "But I guess you know that, huh?"

"Yeah, I—wait, you—" he frowns. "What do you mean 'booked here?'"

"For a show or a competition or something." Patton leans down, muttering like they're sharing a secret. "Between you and me, I don't blame you for sitting up here. It gets cold in the rinks, doesn't it?"

"Sorry—can we go back another step?" Virgil shakes his head. "What do you mean, for a show or competition?"

Patton frowns. "For the season."

"What season? Season of what?"

He frowns for another second, before something like exasperation makes him sigh. "Did Roman tell you what he does?"

"No. Not even a little bit."

Patton sighs again and nods to the screens. "That's him, on the camera there."

Virgil turns to look. The only person on the screens is the one skating. Wait—

"That's Roman?"

"Roman Prince, reigning champion," Patton says, coming up behind him as Virgil stares at Roman training on the ice, "I'm not that surprised he didn't tell you, he's surprisingly private about his off-stage life."

Roman skates. Roman is a figure skater. Roman competes at a professional level as a skater. Roman is the fucking reigning champion?

He hears Patton say something about getting back to work but if he needs anything, let him know. He must respond—he hopes it wasn't too rude—but he's too focused on the way Roman is literally fucking dancing on the ice right now. He looks like he's at the Olympics. Shit, has Roman been to the Olympics? Why didn't Roman tell him he skates for a living? Why is he here while Roman is training? And what the fuck did Patton mean about Roman talking about him all the time?

He completely fucking forgets about his phone as he watches Roman skate. Every so often someone else skates up to him—his trainer, probably, even though Roman called him his boss. Shit, Roman really didn't want him to know about this, did he? Is he gonna be mad that Virgil's watching him?

He's really fucking good.

It feels like no time at all before Roman's disappearing from the frame and then he gets a text that he's almost done, coming up to find him, and Virgil's still staring at the screen trying to fit the pieces together that Roman's a professional skater who talks about him to the people he works with.

He doesn't quite manage that by the time Roman's pushing the door open with a breathless smile, his hair slightly messy, and his cheeks glowing from the exercise.

"Hey, sorry about that, but I'm all done, we can…"

He trails off when he notices Virgil staring at the screens, smile fading a bit.

"Right," he says, mostly to himself, "forgot about those."

"You, uh," Virgil mumbles, "so you skate?"

"Yeah. I skate."

There's a moment. Someone down the hall opens a door.

"I'm sure you have questions," Roman says finally, "but can I answer them in the car?"

"Yeah, sure."

Roman's quiet as they go back downstairs, waving to the front desk person again. They get in the car and start driving. Virgil bites his tongue for as long as he can before they finally stop at a red light and he musters his courage.

"Why didn't you tell me you skate?"

He hears Roman sigh. "I didn't mean to keep it a secret from you, it's just…I didn't know how you'd react."

"Did you think I wouldn't think it was a real job, or something?"

"What? No, no, I just—I didn't know if you watched skating or followed it at all or—or if you'd know who I am, or something like that." The light turns green and Roman turns onto the next road. "And then…well, it's not like I know what you do for a living either."

"I'm a systems engineer."

"Oh. That's cool."

"Thanks."

They drive for a few more minutes.

"Patton said you're quiet about your private life," he says, like an asshole, and he wants to take it back as soon as it comes out but Roman's already answering.

"Yeah, well, I'm not famous famous like some people are, but I'm…people know me. And it's not like I want people poking into what I do when I'm not being Roman Prince on the ice. Plus, especially with it being the holidays…" He trails off and sighs again. "Sorry, I don't want to bring the mood down."

"You're not bringing the mood down, you're just talking. You can tell me if you want to."

They stop at another red light and Roman looks at him. Really looks at him, like he's trying to figure out if Virgil's telling the truth. Which he is, he totally is, and he hopes Roman can see that. He must, or at least decide Virgil's not just asking to be nosy, because he looks away again.

"There are people who are into figure skating all year long and that's great, but they're, like, fans. And I love my fans, really, but I don't—sometimes it gets a bit much, you know?"

"Yeah."

"And then there are people who just like it for the holidays because it's 'festive.' Like, 'oh, let's go ice skating, it's Christmas,' or 'oh, let's go see a skating show because it's winter,' that sort of thing. And then they do it, and then it's done, and they go home and have their actual holidays together, and…"

Something terribly sad enters Roman's voice as they sit in the snow at the light, and Virgil suddenly has the image of a performer's smile fading as the lights go out. And it strikes him how terribly lonely what Roman's describing sounds, like he's just something people check off their lists and then move on with those they actually care about. And how much Patton seemed to understand that of course Roman didn't tell him what he did for a living.

"You want people to want to spend time with you for who you are," he says quietly, "not what you are."

"Yeah," Roman says back, equally soft, "that's it."

He looks down at his cane, spinning it in his hand. "I get that."

"I know you do." Roman reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. "I really didn't mean to keep secrets."

"It's fine, I get it. But thank you for telling me."

The light turns green and they start driving again. The silence feels gentler, somehow, Roman even starts humming under his breath. It's that same song that was playing over the speakers when they first met at the park.

Wait a fucking second.

"You asked me to skate."

"Huh?"

"When we met, at the park, you offered to skate with me. Even though you skate for a living and someone might have recognized you."

"What was I supposed to do?" Roman sighs, but this time it's clear he's going for drama. "I was talking to this cute guy and my brain fell out of my ears."

"You—what?"

Roman glances over and chuckles. "You're getting all blushy again, you know."

"I—what—shut up!"

"Did Patton also say I talk about you all the time?"

"Maybe!"

"Well, there you go, cutie. Wha—hey, hey! I'm driving!"

"You'll fucking live, you absolute dick."

But Roman's laughing again and he looks so happy that Virgil can't be mad for very much longer. And, you know, he is driving, and he would like to make it to the restaurant in one piece.

"You're paying for lunch, you know."

"Whatever you say, cutie."

5.

"If you dragged me all the way out here for nothing, I swear to God—"

"We're almost there, I promise, I promise."

Virgil groans, slumping down in the car seat at Roman makes yet another turn. Roman texted him two hours ago asking if he was free and could they go somewhere really quickly, he promises it's worth it, and Virgil had been too caught up in the sappy floaty feeling of Roman's excitement to say no, and now here they are, driving who the fuck knows where, in the dark, up a path that barely has any lights.

"How do you even know we're not getting lost?"

"We're not lost, I know exactly where we are."

"So if I got out a paper map and said 'where are we,' you could point to it and you'd be right?"

"Well, I'd be more impressed that you had a paper map with this exact area that you could be accurate about—"

"What, you don't think I've got maps?"

"I'd never doubt your map capabilities, Virgil."

"You'd better not, the atlas my mom got me for fourth grade would be so disappointed at you when I throw it at your head."

"I'm sorry, you're the one throwing it and it's going to be disappointed at me?"

"Yeah, 'cause you did something so outrageous it's made me need to throw it."

Roman chuckles as he makes another turn—are they going up a hill or something? "My mistake. Really, we are almost there."

"Uh-huh."

"What, you don't believe me?"

"I believe you about as much as I did the last ten times you've said it."

"I have not said it ten times!"

"No, you've said it way more than ten times."

"Well, if you keep asking 'are we there yet,' I'm going to keep answering you."

"Are we there yet?"

"Almost."

"Are we there y—" Roman reaches over and pushes his shoulder lightly. "Okay, okay, I'll knock it off."

"Look, see that sign?"

Virgil sits up and peers through the windshield at the sign that reads 'Observation Point.' "Yeah."

"That's where we're going."

"Fine, fine, you're not a liar."

"Thank you."

Sure enough, it really is only a few more moments before Roman's pulling the car out onto a large flat overlook and putting it in park. Virgil looks around, trying to figure out what exactly they're doing all the way out here and why Roman was so insistent that they go tonight, when Roman turns the headlights off. "Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?"

"Relax, I'm keeping the heat on so we don't freeze." He nods out the window. "Look."

"I can't see shit, Roman, look at what?"

"Give your eyes a second to adjust."

He looks, truly not expecting to see anything. It's just blackness, the afterglow of the headlights still burning his retinas out. He squints. There are surprisingly few clouds out tonight, especially considering the winter weather they're supposed to get later this week. He can sort of see something through the gloom, below them, but it's not that clear yet. Slowly, little by little, his eyes adjust and…

"Oh," he says in a rush of breath.

The entire city sprawls out beneath them. Glittering and shimmering houses, buildings, Christmas lights and flashing decorations. The snow sparkles with it, the glow almost a sea of wonder against the inky blue night sky. Reds, greens, blues, purples, far-away inflatables that must be giant but look like nothing more than storybook characters from this high up. Some of the houses closest to them have trees, right out front, others have sleighs and reindeer, even more have snowmen just barely lit by the edges of the shining lights.

It's incredible.

"I didn't think I'd get a chance to see it this year," Roman says, as if he's afraid to break the silence, "but then it cleared up and I knew it'd be perfect."

Virgil can't say anything. He's too spellbound.

"Thank you for coming with me."

"Thank you for asking. This is—holy fuck, Roman, this is so fucking cool."

"I'm glad you like it. I was a bit worried with the roads, sometimes they don't clear them properly, but at least we can sit in the car instead of having to walk or something."

Maybe it's the fact that he's tired, or the surge of sappiness when Roman had said he'd known it'd be perfect and he'd reached out for Virgil, or maybe he's been holding this in since Roman held out that stupid hot chocolate. Whatever it is, Virgil sniffles.

"Whoa, hey, hey," Roman murmurs right away, reaching out for him like the stupidly perfect Prince Charming, "what's wrong, honey? Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Virgil spits through his stupid tears, "no, you did—you did everything right."

"O..kay?"

"You did everything right," he says again, "you—you made sure we could drive so we could just sit in the car and you picked me up so you could drive me instead of making me take the bus and you asked how much walking was too much walking and you stood up for me and you asked me if it was rude before you asked about my cane and you got me hot chocolate and you're—you're—"

An actual sob chokes out of his mouth and he claps a hand over it, only for Roman to let out a noise of dismay and coaxes his hand away, holding it tightly. He leans over the console and tenderly wipes away one of Virgil's tears and it's too soft and gentle and perfect—

"You did everything right," Virgil manages, not daring to look at Roman's concerned face, "you—you're too sweet."

Roman lets out the softest noise and strokes his cheek again. "You're worth being sweet to, honey."

"Shut up, you're gonna make me cry more."

"That's okay, honey, you can cry. That's—it's a good cry, right?"

"Yeah, you bastard, it's a good cry." He sniffles. "Now shut up."

"Can I shut up and hug you?"

"Yes."

And goddamnit, an awkward hug where Roman has to lean halfway out of his seat over the console to get his arms around him should not feel so warm and safe and comforting, but fuck it, Virgil's already crying into his shoulder anyway, he might as well fully commit to it. If Roman has a problem with contorting himself to hug a sobbing mess, he doesn't say anything about it. No, he just keeps humming and shushing Virgil with sweet nonsense, his hand alternating between carding through his hair and stroking his cheek. It's not fair, and Virgil's not giving it up for anything.

Eventually, his tears run dry and he scrubs his nose with his sleeve as Roman sits back down, keeping one hand on the back of his neck. Fingers play with the hair right above his collar. He sniffles.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, honey, it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I just cried all over you."

"Oh no," Roman says dryly, "however will I survive such a terrible fate?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up."

Roman chuckles, fingers still scratching lightly at Virgil's scalp. "Really, Virgil, it's alright. I'm just glad I'm not the only one getting all sappy."

If he were less emotionally drained from crying, or if Roman's fingers were less good at making him melt into a boneless little puddle, he might have had a retort for that. Instead, he just looks out over the lights in all their sparkling glory and sighs, leaning into the touch. Roman starts humming again and there they sit, enjoying the night.

"If I fall asleep," he mumbles, "will you wake me up?"

"If you fall asleep, I'll drive you home and then wake you up so we can get you to bed."

"Fine."

He tries. He tries doggedly to stay awake, to not miss a moment of this, of the lights, the night, of Roman and his stupid Prince-Charming self. But he must fall asleep, or at least get close to it, because the fingers in his hair slow, and stop. Roman chuckles softly, and the car starts, and they drive through the night. And for a moment, as they leave behind the sea of lights, he thinks that Roman lied to him—they can't be in a car, just driving home.

Not when it feels like they're flying.

+1.

It's really a surprise that he managed to hold it back for this long, but it was eventually going to happen.

The swirling mist of a monster that is his anxiety has been biding its time, waiting for him to let his guard down to spring out and warp him up in its stupid fucking mess and make him stop appreciating everything that's going on and make it just the fucking worst.

Roman Prince is too perfect, it decides. There's no way this all gets to happen to him and there's no catch. The image of the hidden cameras and the reality show crew comes back; when do they jump out and say it's all fake? When is the illusion going to shatter?

Maybe he's just biding his time and trying to find a way to exit Virgil's life and never return. Maybe he has a partner, or something, and he really thinks Virgil's just his friend. Maybe he's not even gay. Maybe Virgil's just a fling and he's going to leave as soon as New Year's is over. Maybe he's going to get swept up in his life of professional figure skating again and Virgil will be stuck with chasing down his shows and competitions to even see him ever again. Maybe they're going to become the friends that aren't really friends but they still have each other's number for some reason.

Maybe—

"You're thinking too loudly," Roman murmurs from where his face is tucked near the crook of Virgil's shoulder, reaching out to pause the movie, "are you okay?"

Virgil sighs, leaning back into Roman's embrace. He'd surprised him by coming over—well, no, he'd texted to ask if Virgil would mind if he came over, but that was out of nowhere, so it counted—and then they'd ordered way too much food and put on a Christmas movie, and Virgil had pushed for The Nightmare Before Christmas and Roman hadn't protested. And then Roman had asked if he could cuddle him—"Because it's a crime to leave you sitting there on the couch, in the dark, like you have no one to cuddle you, honey."—and then he'd wrapped his arms around him and it'd been all warm and soft and cozy and Virgil hadn't wanted to move to get his hot chocolate from the coffee table that probably wasn't even hot anymore—

"You're still drifting." Roman sits up, pulling away. "Is everything okay?"

Virgil bites his lip. "It's dumb."

"I like dumb things."

"You'll laugh."

"Only if you say something funny."

"You'll be mad," he says in a very quiet voice, and he feels Roman stutter above him. He squeezes his eyes shut.

"Oh, honey," he hears distantly, before the couch is shifting under him and there are warm hands carefully cupping his face. "Will you look at me, please?"

He doesn't want to. He wants to stay here in the dark with Roman touching him like he's something precious, but then Roman's calling his name and fuck it, he can't disappoint Roman, so he opens his eyes. Roman smiles at him with that same fucking soft smile that's been taking him out at the knees since day one, and he can tell he's pouting before Roman even says anything.

"I'm not going to be mad," he says with all the patience in the world, "if something's bothering you, I want to know about it. Please, tell me?"

"You're not leaving, right?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth and Roman scrunches up his face in confusion, he wants to run away and hide under all his blankets and never speak to anyone again.

"Never mind. Forget it."

"What do you mean, am I leaving?"

"I said forget it. See? Dumb. Never mind."

"Don't do that," Roman chides gently, pulling his focus back, "don't hide from me. What did you mean?"

Virgil sighs, trying to not lose himself in how warm Roman's hands are. "It's just—everyone leaves. Sort of. I know—I mean I get it. I get how these things go. You—it's the holidays, right? You get all the emotions and then New Year's happens and you move on. I know that happens, I know that's how it works sometimes, and it's fine, I get it, but—"

"Slow down." He sits up. "Why do you think I'm leaving?"

Fuck it. "Because you're too perfect, okay? You—you're sweet and kind and you help me with everything and you're fun to be around and you're funny and you're smart and—and you're really fucking attractive, and I don't—" he takes a deep breath— "I don't know what to do about it anymore, okay?"

Roman's quiet. He's quiet for a long moment. Then his hands leave Virgil's face and he cringes, curling up in on himself—he's done it, he's made Roman leave, it's his fault, it's all his fault, they didn't even make it to New Year's—

His eyes fly open in shock when Roman suddenly hugs him tightly. His breath leaves him in a rush as Roman squeezes, holding him with such a fierce strength that he just ends up going limp in his hold.

"I don't know," Roman growls, "what sort of absolute assholes have been so cruel to you that you think everyone is just going to leave, but they'd better fucking hope we never meet."

"Wh—what?"

"You're fucking perfect too, Virgil. You're smart and you make me laugh and you're genuinely kind to people and you—you make me feel safe, okay?" He pulls back but somehow this is worse because now they're just staring into each other's eyes. "You're amazing. Why the hell would I want to leave you?"

"I—um—well—"

"I don't want to leave," Roman confesses, and fuck, Virgil can hear his heart breaking, "do…you don't want me to leave, do you?"

"No," he says in a rush, "no, I don't want you to leave."

"Great, 'cause I wanna be stuck with you until you're sick of me."

"I'm not gonna get sick of you—"

"Well, I'm not gonna get sick of you either—"

"Great!"

"Great!"

And then he's the one leaning forward to knock Roman over with a hug. Roman wraps his arms just as tightly around him and suddenly there's a kiss being pressed to his head.

Everything stops.

"Shit," Roman breathes, and it curls around his ear, "I…I meant to ask if that was okay before I did it, I'm sorry, I—"

But Virgil's already turned and pressed a kiss of his own to Roman's jaw. He feels more than hears Roman's breath stutter, the chest under him jumping as Roman turns to look at him. Like this, their faces are barely a few inches apart, and Roman smells like hot chocolate.

"It's okay," Virgil mumbles into their shared space, "it's…more than okay."

And there Roman goes, curling his mouth up into that fucking soft smile again, and then he's sliding a hand up to cup the back of Virgil's. "So I can kiss you?"

"Yes, you can kiss me."

Fuck, he tastes like hot chocolate too.

"I'm not leaving," Roman whispers against his lips, not bothering to pull away, "I'm not leaving you, baby."

"Fuck."

"No good?"

"Very good," Virgil mumbles, leaning forward again, but then his phone is buzzing and he's pulling back with a curse to make it shut the fuck up. Roman comes up and wraps his arms around him again, hands slowly playing with the hem of his sweater as his chin hooks over his shoulder. "I'm almost done, I promise."

"Am I 'Prince Charming' in your phone?"

"No," Virgil says, like a liar as he throws his phone onto the floor.

"Aww, that's so cute, baby."

"Shut up and kiss me, Princey."

"As you wish," Roman murmurs, and then Virgil doesn't have a chance to think about the fact that he just called Roman 'Princey.'

They don't end up finishing the movie, but Roman says they can watch the rest over breakfast instead.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[not-poignant]

Hey! I got into your work recently, with Falling Falling Stars (which I adore!!), and quickly jumped into Underline the Black. I was shocked to see Dr. Gary shift to being the main love interest, but I was engaged in seeing this new dynamic with him and Efnisien. Two questions: 1. Gary feels like a different character than in FFS, and I'm wondering what were the sprouts in character traits in FFS tht you expanded in UtB? 2.What would Arden be like in UtB? (Srry if u've answered b4)

Hi anon!

I'm so glad you enjoyed Falling Falling Stars! Funny fact about that, my beta and I actually shipped Gary and Efnisien really hard in the first few chapters, but I knew they weren't end-game and it had to stay professional, so we kind of back-burnered it for over year and then Underline the Black was born.

So we actually saw the huge, huge potential for chemistry even then. Some of the readers did too, and there are actually some comments in the first and second chapters where Dr Gary is present, where people talk about their chemistry and/or shipping them. And some continue to do so as the story goes on!

As for the sprouts, I genuinely feel there are far more similarities between Dr Gary from FFS and Gary from UtB than differences, so I'll just start listing em out.

Both doctors of niche psychology that most psychologists don't really want to go into and/or specialise in.

Both CEOs of Hillview

Both controlling in their personal lives

Both extremely private people who reveal almost nothing about their personal life by preference (this is not just Dr Gary's job in FFS, he's the same with Mika in The Moon is Down).

Both familiar with BDSM and kink

Both enjoy prodding and poking at a person and even deliberately provoking discomfort in them verbally.

Both enjoy trouble-shooting complex issues, but sometimes have significant blind spots and/or become so focused on one thing they miss another.

Both are quick to apologise when they recognise they've done something wrong, and naturally seek to repair a situation

Both are semi-competitive with their colleagues, but also friendly with them.

Both are highly professional, and will use that professionalism as a front to hide their true feelings about a situation.

Both feel extremely strong bursts of empathy or compassion.

Both have a golden retriever named Polly (Efnisien tries to break the glass in the photo of Polly in FFS - this is the scene where Gary says it's Perspex).

Both have practice dealing with volatile situations and people.

Both enjoy topping / dominating others in the bedroom (though they do have other styles, the biggest departure is here, because Gary is a peak alpha in one story and just a tired person in the other).

Both overwork extremely and;

Both need Efnisien to learn how to work more realistic hours for their health.

Both are friends with Henton (and are betrayed by him)

Both prefer structured forms of support rather than spontaneously reaching out for support, though Dr Gary in FFS is more mature here than Gary in UtB is.

Both dress the same way

Both have the same style of talking, and the same way of framing thoughts when they speak.

Both dislike disruptions to their personal life.

Both are very zen about the fact that 'bad things happen in the world' which gives them an unusually large capacity to work in fields where other mental health professionals often don't want to work (omega rehabilitation sciences for Gary in UtB and aberrant juvenile psychology in FFS)

Both have a laconic and dry sense of humour and are not frequently prone to outbursts of emotion or laughter.

Despite being quite 'closed in' on the surface, both can be quite transparent about their emotional state, but not often in a very labile way. So they will calmly state they are sad while feeling sad, instead of tearfully stating it.

I could go on and on and on anon, but to me, you can see that I pretty much see the main departure as being purely biological/hormonal re: Gary being a peak alpha and the changes that have had to happen along that strata.

Otherwise to me, they are both very much Gary!

As for Arden, I suspect he'd be a beta dominant probably living the same kind of life he's living now in FFS!

[captainaikus]

Hello, Belle! I'd love to join this matchup event of yours ♡ My apologies in advance if it's too long

I like psychology, science (specifically biology), mythology, music, history, literature, and philosophy. I'm a huge geek when it comes to crimes (whether they're unsolved or not) and just mysterious stuff in general. I mostly watch documentaries (about any topic really), read, study, or simply lounge around in my free time. I admire people who are genuine. I don't have a favorite book since it's difficult to pick, but I prefer fantasy and psychological genres.

On the other hand I loathe anyone who is close-minded and two-faced. It's a big turnoff for me. And I dislike lazy people, incompetence is a big no.

Most people around me say that I'm empathetic so I suppose that's true. I'm a very calm person in general, unless someone ticks me off (I become temperamental if so). A lot of people have called me a goody two shoes (I can see why though and I don't blame them for that). Although I'm an emotional person by nature, I'm still logical and always opt for the most rational choice. I'm keen on self-awareness.

I have many insecurities but if I were to pick one it would be my inner self. Despite being an empath I'm a bit selfish, hypocritical, and self-preserving at heart (though I'm trying to fix those flaws of mine). I dislike that side of me and sometimes I wish I was a different person because of that (and tend to get envious of people who can freely show who they truly are). I have a fear of being judged by others if I show my more ugly and dark side, so I tend to just mask it all with my good traits.

Thank you for taking the time to read this! Once again I'm super sorry since it's so long. I hope you have a great day/night ahead!

Hi little sheep !! ૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა (i plan on calling my anons that cause ayy non sounds too mechanical from me) And wow - the resemblance I have to this. Honestly, I get where you're coming from with this and i'm happy to know that someone likes watching crime documentaries cause that's something i do in my spare time on youtube (like watching lazy masquerade or coffeehouse crime, i fall asleep when I'm in the middle of a podcast too or just listening to horror/ crime stories ) and apparently it's growing pretty popular now - I match you with Itoshi Rin!

Vibes I get : Competitive and power couple like relationship. Rin likes watching psychological based things when he is off training or on his way home. Secretly thrilled that you like underrated youtubers who talk about crimes and mysteries that are unsolved but he'll pretend that they are mainstream ones and that you just said it to impress him.

Warning : mentions of reader wielding a knife. Entering the house, you could tell something was off. There were times when you had entered a empty house, but the atmosphere had changed- it being more darker as if something awful had happened in your absence. Setting your bag down on the floor, you grab a knife near you walking in the direction of the bedroom where you watched a figure move on the ground covered in a sheet. Flicking the lights on you watched as the figure flinched, hand ready to use the knife. "For fucks sake!" the familiar voice said, making you drop the knife. Hearing the clatter of the metallic object on the floor, Rin turned towards you, his teal eyes squinting at you as a sheet was over his head. "What are you doing home early?" you asked. "I thought you were going to be late?" Clicking his tongue, he sat down on the floor, the tapping away at the screen. Seeing his behavior, you could tell something was off. Not wanting to disturb his peace, getting closer was the right route than prodding him for questions. Hand turning off the light, you kicked your shoes to the side; picking up the knife and placing it on the table, joining him in the dark. Sitting on the floor next to him you watched as his eyes were fixated on the screen before him, the audio of the conspiracy around the Himuro mansion playing in the background. "And I'm telling you that that portal doesn't exist." "Of course it doesn't dumbass." Rin said, brushing his teeth. "Then why did they do it? Do you think some spiritual activity took place there?" you chirped back. "myths, beliefs and fulfillment. Don't you know that?" he asked, wiping his face with a towel and getting under the covers. "Rin." He turned to you, teal eyes blinking boredly. "do you wanna go to the site tomorrow?" you asked. Thinking about it for a bit, he turned his head to the ceiling, hands resting on his chest. "8 pm. It works best at night."

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

This has nothing to do in particular with the previous anon, it just invoked a thought in me that I hate AI being used as a general term for generative AI because that's a very particular type of shitty sect of a very big technological advancement. AI in other fields is generally very useful especially in medical and science research.

^^^ because I saw some mathematicians being awarded an award for being monumental in the development of present day AI and all the comments were shitting on him because all people now relate with the word is Gen AI.

Yeah, it is true that there are different types of AI, and programming a machine to help detect cancer cells or something is a lot different from someone being too lazy to write (or even read!) an email. I kind of don’t blame the average person for not making that distinction, though, because tech companies aren’t, either. They’re marketing everything as AI now, it’s the new buzzword they’re shoving down everyone’s throats. It reminds me of when I was watching a video on EA not having any plans to make a Sims 5, but continuously adding to 4, and the guy mentioned how EA was like, “With the magic of AI, you’ll be able to type in what kind of house you want and AI will make it for you!”

First of all, that takes the fun out of it, but secondly, the guy in the video was like, “I don’t understand how this is different from a reverse Google image search”

[geminiagentgreen]

i saw your tags on the ocd post and i wanted to let you know in case you weren’t aware, that praying after every intrusive thought might actually be making your ocd worse. it sounds like the prayer (which is a normal and healthy thing in regular circumstances) has become a compulsion. in ocd, our brains react to intrusive thoughts the same way they would react to actual traumatic events, with cortisol spikes and everything— our brain is telling us we’re in literal danger with chemicals.

we do compulsions to ease our anxiety, but then it teaches our brain that the only way to make the anxiety go away is by doing the compulsion (in your case by praying, since you said you pray every time you get a thought). our brains make the association between an ease of stress and an enacting of a compulsion.

when we want to actually treat our ocd long term, the most effective way to go about it is by bearing the discomfort without doing the compulsion in order to teach our brains that hey! nothing bad happened! we did not commit a violent act just because we didn’t pray, our house didn’t burn down because we didn’t check the stove the third time etc.

once we get used to bearing the anxiety and intrusive thoughts without doing a compulsion, and riding out that wave of cortisol without forcing it to go away, our brains begin to slowly rewire themselves to learn that actually nothing bad will happen if we don’t react to intrusive thoughts as if they were threats. it’s extremely difficult and stressful treatment, but it’s very effective.

look up exposure with response prevention therapy!

also, just in case it were to become a concern, i want to affirm this to you: jesus loves you and knows your heart. your thoughts are not your desires. ocd is ego-dystonic, which means your intrusive thoughts only pop up because you know theyre bad and theyre things you DONT want to do. god knows this. and praying less, if its part of your treatment, would not separate you from the lord. he wants what is best for us all— you dont have to suffer.

Anon, may the Lord bless you more than you ever ask for 💚

I recently started practicing exactly what you recommended, though I had no knowledge of the science behind it!

And TRULY what you say of the Lord is, well, true! If He loved me since before I was born then I was and am loved despite the sins He knew I'd go on to commit, and if the Lord loves me, I am free. God bless you, my sibling in Christ 💚

[buckleyblueyes]

ahh that's amazing! thank you in advance. I got this idea into my head: what if there is this one time they're all on a call, and maybe it's something that hits a little too close to home for Buck, maybe it's playing on his fears and insecurities, but the moment Buck sees what they're dealing with he gets SCARED, and freezes, and subconsciously grabs Eddie's hand, because Eddie makes him feel safe. He is his best friend (who he's in love with, ofc) after all. Eddie is well. Surprised. Very much.

Anon! Thank you so much for your patience with this one! I know it's been ages since you sent it in. I hope it's worth the wait and that I did justice to your prompt! (CW: drowning)

Eddie feels Buck tense up beside him as soon as Bobby tells them where they're going: Splash Zone Water Park. They have calls to pools fairly often, and Buck always gets a little bit tense going into it, no matter how long it’s been since the tsunami. Eddie presses his knee against Buck’s in the truck, offering a silent comfort to his friend. Buck seems to push down his fears by the time they pull up to the scene, forcing himself to shift into Firefighter Buckley mode as they make their way through the park. Eddie lets himself be relieved, until they arrive in front of the wave pool.

Of course it’s the goddamn wave pool. Even worse, there’s a nine year old boy laid out on the stone patio next to the pool, dripping wet, brown hair plastered to his forehead. He’s unconscious, bleeding from the side of his head, and his chest isn't rising and falling like it should be. Buck freezes immediately at the sight, reaching out for Eddie with his right hand, and wrapping his fingers around Eddie’s left wrist. It takes Eddie a moment to realize that Buck is feeling for his pulse, grounding himself.

Eddie does his best to steady his breathing and heart rate once he realizes what Buck is doing. The sight in front of them is upsetting to him, of course it is, but he knows it’s worse for Buck. He’s not the one who walked around for hours not knowing if Christopher was dead or alive. He’s not the one who almost died himself (at least, not that day.) “It’s okay,” he murmurs quietly, so only Buck can hear. “I’m here, I’m alive. That’s not Christopher.” It’s purely a medical call at this point, so he makes no attempt to move away from Buck as Hen and Chimney begin administering CPR to the boy. His mother is crying, wailing, begging them to save him. His lips are turning blue. Buck’s grip on Eddie’s wrist is like a vice.

“We got a pulse!” Hen finally calls out.

Buck’s grip doesn’t loosen, but Eddie does hear him let out of a heavy breath. He twists his hand out of Buck’s grip just enough that he can slide his arm up, so Buck is no longer holding his wrist, but is holding his hand. He gives Buck’s hand a firm squeeze and finally hazards a glance up at the man in question. Buck is staring at their intertwined hands now, confused. At least, Eddie decides, he’s distracted from the drowning boy. He runs his thumb along the back of Buck’s hand, in what he hopes is a comforting gesture.

He knows they’re crossing some kind of line here, that hand holding in the middle of an emergency scene (even one where their presence turned out not to be strictly necessary) is not something that he’ll be able to brush off as strictly platonic. It doesn’t scare him like it used to, though. Maybe it’s because he watched Buck date Taylor, so he knows how much worse it would be to not have Buck, or maybe it’s all the therapy he’s been in since the shooting. Either way, Eddie’s not afraid anymore. He and Buck have been on the edge of something--or maybe everything--for months, so if holding Buck’s hand will help ground him, keep his mind from thrusting him back in time, then it’s a risk Eddie is willing to take.

Hen and Chimney are loading the boy into the ambulance--he is breathing again, still unconscious and probably severely concussed, but alive--when Bobby finally makes his way over to them. He takes in the haunted look in Buck’s eyes, and the fact that their hands are still tightly clasped together, and frowns.

“You boys alright?” He asks, but he’s looking at Buck.

Buck nods slowly. “I--Yeah. Just...Brought up some bad memories.”

“This was a rough one,” Bobby agrees. “I’m gonna take us off rotation for a while when we get back to the station.”

“Thanks, Cap,” Eddie says. Buck doesn’t say anything.

Bobby smiles in that warm, fatherly way of his, looking between them. “Take care of each other.”

As if there’s any universe where they wouldn’t.

Eddie doesn’t let go of Buck’s hand until they get back to the station, and only because he needs two hands to cook.

“I’m not hungry,” Buck says, still hovering in Eddie’s space.

“You were about to eat before the call came in,” Eddie insists gently. “You need to eat.”

“And you’re gonna cook for me?” Buck shakes his head. “I think I’ll take my chances with starvation.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, pulling out a griddle and a clean spatula. “I think I can handle grilled cheese, Buck.”

Buck’s mouth opens and closes in surprise. “Grilled cheese?”

“Maddie may have mentioned making it for you a lot growing up.” Eddie flushes slightly at having to admit he’s talked to Maddie about Buck. “I thought it would be comforting.”

Buck stares at him, eyes wide and mouth turning up into a tentative smile. “Yeah, it is.”

“Good,” Eddie smiles back. “Now, go sit down.”

Eddie bustles about the kitchen, pulling out the good buttermilk bread that Chimney always buys instead of the whole wheat bread that Bobby puts on the list, the pre-sliced cheddar cheese, and the butter. “After we eat, how about we video call Christopher?” It’s late in the afternoon, he’ll be home from school by now.

Buck lets out a long exhale. “Yes, please.”

Eddie flips the bread slices on the griddle and places the cheese slices on the toasted side. “Great.”

“I--” Buck starts. “I didn’t know how to ask.”

Eddie looks up from the sandwiches. “How to ask for what?”

“To talk to Christopher,” Buck draws patterns on the tabletop with his index finger. “I know I’m not--He’s not mine.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything at first, just plates up the sandwiches, brings them over to the table, and sits down next to Buck, who takes a small, tentative bite.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“What?”

“You said Christopher isn’t yours,” Eddie picks up his sandwich, but doesn’t bite into it. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Buck is staring at him again, confused.

“Look, I don’t know what we are anymore, Buck,” Eddie admits. “Things are different between us now, and I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know that you love Christopher, and that he loves you just as much. If that doesn’t give you a right to call him, to reassure yourself that he’s okay, then I don’t know what does.”

“I…” Buck’s eyes fill with tears.

"It's okay, Buck." Eddie reaches over to wipe Buck's tears with his thumb. “Just eat your grilled cheese."

Buck does as he’s told, making it halfway through the sandwich in three bites. “You know, there’s no law that says we have to wait until we finish eating to call Christopher.”

Eddie raises a skeptical eyebrow, looking up from his own half-eaten lunch. “Will you actually finish eating if we call now?”

“Absolutely.” Buck takes a big bite to prove his point. “See?” He says, through a mouthful of food. Something so childish shouldn’t be so endearing, and yet, somehow it is.

Helpless, Eddie pulls out his phone. Carla answers on the second ring. “You better have a good reason for interrupting math homework.”

“I do.” Eddie assures her. “Can you put Chris on?”

Carla gives him a look, but does as he asks. Christopher is grinning--probably excited to have his math homework interrupted “Hi, Dad!”

“Hey, kid.” Eddie can’t help but return his son’s smile. “How’s the math homework going?”

Christopher’s smile falters slightly. “Oh, it’s good.”

Somehow Eddie doesn’t totally believe that, but it’s not important now. “Listen, I’ve got somebody here who wants to say ‘hi’, is that okay?”

The boy’s smile comes back even wider than before. “Is it Buck?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, loud enough that the phone can catch it. “It’s me.”

“Hand the phone to Buck, Dad!” Christopher is bouncing with excitement. “Hand the phone to Buck!”

He does, scooching his chair closer so he can still see the screen himself, and before Buck can even greet Christopher, the kid is launching into a monologue.

“Buck! Dr. Lassiter assigned us a big, semester-long project for science class, can you pleeeaaase help me with it? I want to build a model of the solar system, but it has to be totally accurate.”

The tension Buck's body has been holding onto since the phrase “water park” fell from Bobby’s lips is finally starting to fade.

“Absolutely. Do we want it to move?”

Christopher’s eyes widen on screen. “Yes!”

Buck laughs. “Well then, we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

Eddie smiles softly, as Buck and Christopher begin planning their project. He knows he must look like a lovesick fool, but to be fair, that’s what he is. He rests one hand over the crook of Buck’s elbow, and doesn’t miss the pink that appears across his cheeks.

“Alright, you three,” that’s Carla’s voice, “Somebody still has math homework to finish, and I’m sure you boys will have to get back to work soon.”

Eddie sighs. Carla is right, unfortunately. But Buck looks lighter than he has all day. “We better do what Carla says.”

“Will you come over after work?” Christopher asks. They won't get off until after Christopher will already be at school, so Buck will probably go to his loft after work. But Eddie doesn’t doubt now that Christopher has asked, Buck will manage to make it over to their house by the time Christopher is home from school. He wonders if it's too soon to ask Buck to sleep in his bed, instead of going to his loft at all. It's yet another line to cross, but at this point Eddie's lost track of all the lines they've crossed.

“You bet,” is Buck’s answer. “Now get back to your math!”

“Okay, dad,” Christopher says, rolling his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. It’s meant to be a joke at Buck’s expense, but Eddie can see the breath catching in Buck’s throat all the same, so he pulls the phone from his hand and takes over.

“Good-bye, Christopher! We love you!”

“Bye Dad! Bye Buck! I love you guys, too.”

Buck finds his voice again. “Bye Superman!”

“So,” Eddie says, putting the phone down. “Do you feel better now?”

“Eddie…” Buck hesitates, dropping his hand down so it rests over Eddie’s. His skin is warm and rough and unlike earlier Eddie can actually enjoy the feeling. “Thank you.” He’s thanking Eddie for more than just the grilled cheese and the phone call, and Eddie knows it.

His answer is simple. He turns his hand over, and interlocks their fingers. “Always, Buck.”

[magic-hcs]

Yay!! A new UT HC blog!! Welcoome! 💕

Let's start off with something general!

Do your boys have some special magic abilities? 🌟

Thank you for welcoming me anon, I’m happy to be here!

My boys have for sure some interesting magic abilities, I’ll even be happy so tell you some of their skills. A little bonus for being this blog’s first HC!

If you like what you read, please consider dropping a comment.

Time to cast some magic and see what we’ll get! ✨✨

✨✨

(UT)

Sans: He can when he knows coordinates of the place short cut towards it, images ain’t super necessary but it makes it easier if he does have an image.

Inside encounters he can check his opponent, outside of battle it’s harder and he won’t be able to see your LOVE.

He’s a science person (don’t ask me what kind I don’t know specifics dthdghhhhj)

Papyrus: He can levitate quite a bit off the ground and make objects levitate a bit without the use of blue magic.

He's capable of using healing magic but it's not as advanced.

This is not a magic ability but he can feel other peoples emotions when it’s strong enough. People “leak” emotions constantly, the amount dependent on how strong the emotions are. Like if your miserable you’ll leak lots of specific kinds of sadness. Papyrus can feel that leaking emotions as well as his own.

✨✨

(US)

Sky: He can move himself into a small tear in the void to ultimately short cut to another space.

He can see tears of the void like you see when it’s so hot your sight starts to wobble.

Checking LOVE is a bit harder for him but instead of LOVE he checks the amounts of EXP your need before next level.

He also got amazing stamina able to sprint very long distances.

Syrup: He can see the density of objects and manipulate it in a way so he can easily lift a coach or make lifting a feather almost impossible.

He got the best poker face of all.

✨✨

(HT)

Bear: Bear is unable to shortcut.

His check skills are outstanding though.

Through the cruel environment bear gotten bigger, stronger, sharper and faster. He can crush a skull with one hand, bulldoze through 2 stone walls before he’s slowed down.

With much effort Bear can rip a vertebrae in the form of an ax out of the ground.

He’s gotten very sensitive hearing to make up for his very bad sight. He could if he’d focus hear a mouse scuttle across the floor.

Bean: He can’t levitate anymore due to his past environment being cruel to him.

However due to evolving to fit the environment he can make himself weightless to be able to stealthy move around.

He also got stronger, sharper and bigger, with a slash of his claws he could slice through wood as if he’s swatting at a fly.

His hearing gotten way better just like bear.

Since some triggers hinder him day to day life he’s been practicing to utilize magic that makes him capable of seeing an silhouette of objects through fabric.

His healing magic is still there but less potent.

✨✨

(SF)

Razzle: With an image and or name he can teleport towards his destination without it having drain much of his magic.

His check ability ain’t the best but he has a sixth sense for problem people and alright people.

Razzle got sharp claws able to cut through glass.

He got connections to many places and people.

He’s a strategist true and through.

Coal: He can walk through walls and can sink into the floors.

He’s capable to sketch real life like images of things he sees with charcoal.

He can sense aura’s/magic signatures.

Mastiff: He can put targets on peoples back to locate them easily again, he has to see them in person to do that though, he needs an image and a magic signature/aura.

Since he was kept with DR Gaster longer then the others he got some of Razzle’s abilities but lesser, he has to activate his sixth sense ability with magic and has to focus on one person specifically. He can summon a lesser version of gaster blasters

He got a very good poker face.

Mastiff got massive control of his bone attacks.

✨✨

(UF)

Red: Can quickly short cut short distances in rapid fire, but long distance is a bit harder.

He has a bit difficulty checking anything except LOVE ATK and DEF. Red'sreal handy with his hands, loving to tinker with machinery and stuff (made his own motorcycle from scratch once)

Charon: He’s capable to stick stuff and people onto walls.

He taught himself a magic where he can summon all kinds of bone weapons, each with their unique specialty.

He got abnormal strength and animals gravitate towards him.

✨✨

✨✨

Thank you for participating with this spell, I hope it was to your satisfaction!

[landothemuppet]

Far Longer Than Forever (p.p)

Word count: 4737

Pairing : peter parker

Request: YES! ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. The Swan Princess is one of my childhood movie and this was so fun to write. I can’t stop listenning the soundtrack now ! I’m so sorry for the time i took to write this, i had so much work to do with school. But it’s over now and i hope you will like this ! 

N/A:  First, gif not mine but i don’t know who i’m gonna credit on this, i have no clue...This is my first Peter Parker x reader and i hope you all will like it! As always, I remind you that English is not my native language. Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of the fic! Like, reblogs to support. You can Love you all! xx

Taglist: @angeliquekalampoka @harryhollandsgirlfriend @cedricdiggorysimpp​ - if you want to be notified of all my future writings you can add yourself in my taglist : here

______

As far as you can remember, you've always hated summer. Well, it was partly a lie. You loved the sweltering heat of Queens, the cherry popsicles from Delmar's, not having to worry about what time you had to get up. You liked it but hated the idea of ​​the last two weeks of August.

 This year was no exception. You looked at your half-finished suitcase, a grimace on your face. August still meant the same thing, the same routine: having to spend the last three weeks of his vacation with Peter Parker.

summer 2009

Peter Parker had lost his parents very early on, two years ago. He had lived since then with his aunt May and his uncle Ben. It was your mother's idea to introduce you to each other. Aunt May and your mom were friends from college and luckily, they lived in the same neighborhood. Your first meeting with the one who, many years later, would become Spider-Man, took place on his eighth birthday. You were invited to the party when you weren't even at the same school. Aunt May had simply shared his fears about Peter's difficulty making friends after the trauma he had experienced. Your mother, as the perfect friend that she was, had suggested that Peter and you spend time together.

 There were 3 kids in total at that birthday party, you, Peter - obviously - and a boy from his school whose mother had forced him to be there, too. It was a fact; you were the only girl and you didn't know Peter at all. Your mother walked up to you, got up to your eye level and whispered

 "Can you be nice? May told me she invited Peter's whole class and only this boy came"

 You wanted to please your mother so you nodded before approaching the two boys. Peter and his friend were in the corner of the room, their backs turned to the adults. When you tapping the young boy on the shoulder to make you notice by him, he turned to you with a guilty expression. He had buttercream all over the corner of his mouth and he was holding a cupcake in his hand that looked delicious.

 “My Aunt May tried to bake a cake, but Uncle Ben bought some cupcakes in anticipation. Do you want one?” Peter asked you in a friendly voice

“Why? Is May's cake not good?

“Uncle Ben says that she is not very good at cooking.”

 You let out a little laugh and nodded your head before grabbing the cupcake with a smile. You thanked him and began to taste the little pastry with envy. It was so good! The buttercream was lemony, the cupcake was slightly lemony too but there was a taste you couldn't recognize. You were almost sure you had tasted it before, but you couldn't tell what it was. Peter and the other boy suggested that you go to Peter's room. He wanted to show you the LEGO set his uncle Ben had given him ahead of time and you followed them even though you weren't more excited about the idea.

 And you were right. For several minutes, you were pushed aside while the two young boys spoke spiritedly. You complained several times that you wanted to do something else but Peter didn't seem to listen to you, too excited to finally be able to chat with someone who appreciated Star Wars as much as he did.

 So you were annoyed and slightly angry with Peter but what broke the camel's back is that you started to not feel so good. Your throat was itching and you felt like your tongue was taking up a lot more space in your mouth, getting drier. Peter gave you a distracted look before his eyes widened. He let go of everything he had in his hands before running to his aunt.

 "Aunt May, Aunt May! Y/N's tongue looks like a big, desiccated steak!"

"Peter, don't be rude!" she exclaimed, shocked by her nephew’s words

"No, no come see, she has a huge tongue! I think something is wrong"

 Meanwhile, you ran into the bathroom at Peter's reaction. You weren't sure why he had looked at you like that, but you felt that a few things were wrong. In addition, you were more and more thirsty, your eyes also hurt. And that's when you saw your reflection. You were puffy, your tongue had tripled in size, hence this feeling of dryness and discomfort. It was the same with your throat. You started to cry and when May called you through the bathroom door, you fervently opened it.

 May and your mother's expression of horror was instantaneous and your mother knew exactly what was causing your condition.

 "What did she eat?"

"Nothing..." he tried to escape from being grounded

"Peter, this is very important. What did you eat?"

"We just ate the cupcakes Uncle Ben brought back"

 Ben looked at May with guilty eyes. May had put so much effort into Peter's birthday cake and she felt hurt that they had bought some pastries in anticipation. Your mother was impatiently stamping her foot. It was important to know exactly what you had eaten and above all, you shouldn't waste any more time. Peter felt completely helpless. He had only given a cupcake to his guest, that’s all. What was wrong with giving someone a cupcake?

 "What were those cupcakes flavor?" your mother said impatiently ...

"With lemon and almonds." he said in a very small voice.

 You were panicked. And the eight-year-old that you were was not coping well with stress. Plus, your feeling of being sidelined by Peter and his friend made you feel even worse. So you frowned. You couldn't see a thing but you could feel the torrent of tears escaping your cheeks. You pointed at Peter with rage

 "You tried to kill me !!!" you said somehow with your tongue as big as a little tangerine.

"It's not true!"

"Yes! You are a murderer"

 And you cried even more before your mother takes you to the emergency room as quickly as possible, apologizing for the scene.

 The week later, May forced Peter to apologize for giving you a cupcake, while justifying that he didn't know about your allergy. Your mother forced you to apologize for insulting Peter "a murderer" and accept his apologies.

 But you spent the rest of the vacation arguing with the little guy. After all, you didn't want to be friends with a murderer.

 Summer 2013

Aunt May and your mom didn't let go, however, and every summer you spent three damn weeks with Peter. The summer of your twelve years, you did not thus escape this eternal masquerade but this year, the tide had turned in your favor.

 From the start, you never liked Star Wars. It really wasn't your world. You had always preferred Harry Potter and although Peter had read the books and enjoyed them - which he would never admit to you as that would amount to listing the commonalities you had - he was much more invested in the galactic universe. But on that day, Peter had particularly bothered you. He had first replaced the sugar in your hot chocolate with salt. He kept chanting silly nursery rhymes about you and the downstairs neighbor, insinuating that you were in love: which was not the case. Yes, Peter had been extremely annoying. This time Peter was getting on your nerds by bouncing a small ball against the ceiling as you tried to read your book. Uncle Ben was in the living room watching the sport - you weren't sure exactly which one since it didn't matter to you - so you couldn't go anywhere else to be quiet.

 "Peter, stop it."

"Stop what?" he asked by bouncing the ball once more off his ceiling. You could even make out the smirk on his lips.

"That. Stop it! I can't read."

"This is nothing new."

 You threw him the first thing you found on his desk, c.e, a banana, which he easily dodged. You groaned in frustration. May and your mother didn't understand when you talked about Peter's attitude towards you. He was a calm child, far too shy at school and interested in everything, especially science. He was looking forward to entering Midletown High School in two years. You hated that nerd side about him. Secretly, you were a little jealous of him for being the smartest in the room.

 “I'm gonna hit you so hard you won't know your name anymore”

“ try me, dumbass.”

  A few minutes later, he had finally stopped throwing that damn ball, but obviously Peter's boredom was driving him to find everything the most boring thing than the previous one to drive you crazy. This time, he had simply taken his favorite lightsaber - because he had several - and he was poking your shoulder to get your attention.

 "Parker, stop!"

"Don't you want to drop this book and watch a movie?"

"What do you want to watch? Star Wars? No thanks ..."

"Oh come on, Y / N! I'm sure you'll like it!"

 He patted you on the shoulder once more with his lightsaber.

 "Do you want to play this, Parker?" you said before grabbing one of his other lightsabers

"What are you going to do? I'm sure you don't know how to fight with" he mocked.

 You have lit the glowing plastic stick and you are placed in the guard position.

 "Do you want to bet, knothead?"

 He smiled at you and attacked you first. Strangely, this is what most resembled a moment of bond between Peter and you and deep down, you appreciate it. But you also appreciate that possibility of kicking his ass after he's been so irritating. You responded to his lightsaber attacks with ease and joy. It was playful, childish, but it was one of the few times you had fun with Peter. And you really appreciate it. Your two laughs mingled, echoing in the room.

 But suddenly, as you were trying to dodge an attack from the brunet, your elbow made contact with his face. Peter's muffled cry of pain echoed and you froze. He was holding his nose with a grimace and when he took his hand away you both noticed in horror that he was bleeding.

 "Fuck…"

"Pete..." you started talking

"You blew my nose!" Peter shouted

"I did not do it on purpose!" you defended yourself.

"Of course, you do! You fucking blew my nose!"

"Peter, I swear ..."

 But Peter interrupted you by rushing out of his bedroom looking for his aunt who was in the office as she tried to file the important papers, that Ben and her had received this week. You were livid. First, because you didn't mean to hurt Peter on purpose. Second, you couldn't stand the sight of blood and it was literally everywhere. Peter was leaving trails of droplets on the floor of the apartment.

 "Aunt May?!? Y/N blew my nose! Damn, I'm bleeding!"

 After a brief stint in the ER, the rest of the stay was peaceful as you and Peter avoided each other until the end of the summer.

 Summer 2017

Peter was not the Peter you had always known.

 Since the death of his uncle Ben, the young man had closed in on himself and was even further away. Always so intelligent and discreet but much more distant. He had stopped teasing you or doing things that got on your nerves. He was minding his own business. And even though you had tried to be there for him, not denying him any of the offers he made to you during your stay ... you found him really ... overwhelmed. Which was still understandable.

 But this year was worse than the last. May told your mother that last year Peter got an internship at Stark Industry and attended a seminar in Germany but came back with a black eye. He had been acting most weirdly ever more since then. And you could have witnessed it. In the afternoon, when you were busy, and when it was too hot, when you tried to rest, Peter would disappear for hours. When you caught him sneaking back several times, he made you promise not to tell Aunt May.

 And you were starting to have theories about his nighttime getaways. After all, you were 16 and you too had started dating a few boys. But it never really worked. who knows why?! And when you wondered if Peter had a girlfriend, and who she was - he had to have one in view of all his sneaking out - your stomach twisted in a strange feeling. You didn't understand why the thought of Peter having a girlfriend bothered you so much. Over time, you had learned to be friends. It still happened sometimes that you quarreled but the events of the life made you grow up. Your parents had divorced, Peter had lost his uncle. You could tell yourself that you both had grown.

 And it was one night when Peter was sneaking back in again that you discovered two secrets.

 The first one: He was Spider-Man.

 It was around midnight when you heard the sound of the window opening. Since your childhood and this Machiavellian plan of your mother and Aunt May, you had always slept in Peter's room during holiday and more recently in his bed. The noise alerted you and you got up in a sitting position. But the only thing you saw was a foot, placed on this said window, closing it gently. How the hell was that possible?

 You were ready to scream but your gut told you to look up at the ceiling. A figure hung on it and you were paralyzed. Were you having one of those weird experiences called sleep paralysis? Delicately, silently, you grabbed the first blunt object within reach. A chemistry book that Peter seemed particularly fond of. The figure stepped on the ceiling as you were paralyzed. The form turned to land on the ground and then stood up, still with its back to you. You got up gently from Peter's bed and walked over. The man in the suit whose color you couldn't see took off his mask and you hit the air in an attempt to shoot him down. Peter turned around so quickly and blocked your gesture easily, like a reflex.

 "What the ..."

"Bloody hell".

 You both said at the same time. Your big surprised eyes mirrored Peter's. The curly man let go of your hand with an apologetic expression as you walked away from your friend. You turned on the bedside lamp before you discovered his blue and red costume. A very recognizable costume since it was that of Spider-Man. You winced, a look of judgment and incomprehension on your face. Not bothering to look at his face covered with bruises and traces of blood.

 "What the ... are you sneaking out to go to a costume party?"

"What?! No…No Y/N I’m…”

“Spider-Man? Great costume by the way” you joked.

 For a moment, you completely forgot that you just saw your friend glued upside down to the ceiling. Peter looked at you a little jaded, by the tone of your voice your guess was far from a sincere question but more of a mockery. And right now, the young man needed to be honest with you. He needed you.

 "But, I am."

"Yeah that's it. And I slept with the Winter Soldier. You can't imagine what he can do with his metal arm."

 Peter cut you off by pulling a web with his web shooter, tying your hands. The feel of the canvas was unpleasant, sticky but above all resistant. You let out a little cry of surprise, not powerful enough to pass the walls of Peter's room. Your eyes looked like two big golf balls, realizing that your friend was telling the truth.

 "Omg, You're Spider-Man" you almost spoke too loud.

"Yes and don't make me web your mouth. May doesn't have to know"

"damn, peter. What happened to your face!"

“yeah about that…I need you Y/N, please…”

  And without warning, Peter squeezed the spider in the middle of his costume, at chest level. He winced at the action revealing his bruised chest. He staggered a bit from the action, unsure of his legs and the pain in his sides fierce. You might see several bruises and cuts on your friend's body. You were having difficulty swallowing before you told him you were going to the bathroom to get what you needed. Before leaving the room, he made you promise to be discreet and not tell May anything if she ran into you. When you walk back into Peter's room, he's sitting half-lying on his bed, grimacing. You sit next to him, your heart pounding. You never noticed that he was so built. After all, as a superhero, he had to keep fit. But you couldn't deny that it intimidated you. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment and a desire you never knew before. He had his eyes closed, as if trying to make the pain go away. And there, looking at him, you found him pretty. he was so cute that you couldn't help but run your hand through his curls to signal your presence and soothe him a bit. But Peter already knew you were there. He had heard your footsteps, he had smelled your scent, a sweet scent he had grown used to in his later years. He sighed softly, more relaxed. You started to clean the few shallow wounds.

 "Does it hurt?" you asked quietly

"Mhmm no, not really."

"Did you win?"

"Ouch..No. Not tonight."

"Sorry." you said more for your gesture rather than the fact that he didn't win the fight against the bad guys.

"No, it's perfect ... it's just a little sensitive"

 You smiled but something was wrong. A feeling you've never felt before. You've finished cleaning up Peter's wounds, but your gaze has darkened. As you were about to get up, the brunette gently grabbed your wrist to hold you back. He could hear your calm breathing and yet your heart was racing. He could feel the heat on your cheeks. He too felt that the tension was at its height. Your mind was muddled, he didn't know why, he wasn't a telepath, but he could see it, feel it. Your body betrayed your mind.

 "Y/N, what is it?"

"I..I don't know." you lied.

"You can tell me everything."

"I ... Well…Seeing you like this ... makes me ... makes me realize that I ... I'm afraid of losing you."

"You won't lose me ... I promise"

 You are ashamed of your vulnerable state. How did you go from hating this boy to having an overwhelming fear of losing him? You looked at those chocolate eyes in confusion and distress. You were now fully aware that the little neighborhood spider was none other than your childhood friend. The one you once loved to hate, tease, fight with over trivia. He was also on the youtube videos, who stopped cars with his bare hands.

 “Y/N… you won’t lose me, I promise.”

 Peter dared to walk slowly towards you and in a surge of courage, one of his hands circled your burning cheek, his lips rested on yours. The brunette had always had a crush on you without actually admitting it. After all, you had known each other since you were children but... your relationship had been rather confrontational. But for two years now, everything had changed for him. He appreciated more and more your little arguments, your teasing. His thoughts would sometimes turn darker when you lick your lips or when your fingers scratched that point behind your ear, when you were a little stressed.

 Your lips moved between them in a harmonious dance and you were now clinging desperately to Peter's slightly sweaty brown curls. Your heart was pounding at a speed close to the point of no return, reluctant to stop suddenly in the face of this overstimulation. But all good things came to an end and you slowly walked away. You bit your lip to get the taste of Peter's back. Your mind wandered, lost in the haze of rushing feelings.

 "You..you should rest ..."

 You ended up pulling away, swallowing hard. That night you didn't sleep. You have studied every facial feature of Peter, thinking of every event since your friendship. The next day, you fooled that nothing had happened. Too scared of what that kiss meant to you.

 Summer 2025

It all happened so quickly. After that summer, the summer of your kiss, you promised yourself that you understood your feelings towards Peter. You weren't going to the same high school and even though you were both on social media, you never dared to contact him. You needed time.

 But you haven't had this time. Peter became full-time Spider-Man and then the aliens came to earth, again. The threat of Thanos hovered and within moments, days, hours ... you were gone under his snap.

 When you returned to your childhood apartment, you were alone. Well, alone in front of the family who lived in this place now. The man in his forties simply believed you were a drug-hunting teenager squatter. Five damn years had passed. 5 years where your mother had a new life when you had been eclipsed. You were distraught, alone and it was by happy coincidence that you found May at the F.E.A.S.T project. It was a relief for you to find a familiar face again. She had suggested that you come and live in her new temporary apartment, allowing you to finish high school without having to move to the other end of the United States, with your mother. You declined your offer. You wanted to fend for yourself. And surprisingly, you did pretty well.

 To be exact, Mr. Delmar was looking for a student to work in his store and was kind enough to greet you in the bedroom of one of his daughters who had gone to college. By the greatest of luck, you've never seen Peter. Or rather, you managed to avoid it for an entire year. You had caught a glimpse of him one day, trying to speak Italian to get a travel adapter and a dual headphone adapter. Did you feel foolish thinking that after so long - could we consider those 5 years to be 5 concrete years? - would it still focus on the kiss you shared? After all, you got away from him after that. And then, everything went in a state of madness.

 Every time you turned on the television, you learned that elemental monsters had attacked a different country. They had first started with Mexico and then moved to Europe. Italy, Prague and then London. A certain Mysterio seemed to be taking care of this matter, but you couldn't help but think of Peter. May told you he was supposed to go to Italy. In fact, every time she went to Delmar's for a sandwich, she gave you an update on her nephew's trip. But it wasn't the craziest.

 Upon his return ... Spider-man's identity was revealed. You had watched in horror the video of Mysterio, which appeared on the Daily Buggle newspaper, accusing Peter of wanting to be the new Iron-Man. You were listening to J. Jonah Jameson falsely accusing Peter of being a murderer. You knew Peter, and there was no way he had done such an act. The video was bogus, you were sure. When you tried to reconnect that summer, you noticed Peter's girlfriend. Michelle Jones and ... and that's what kept you from approaching him. He was already supported. He had his best friend, Ned. His girlfriend, MJ. And he had May. It was enough, wasn't it?

  It was the following year, after a new incredible adventure that you met again.

You worked at the store in the evening. Mr Delmar had asked you to help him out urgently because his youngest daughter had a health problem. You accepted with pleasure. You had offered to babysit his daughter but the loving father he was wanted to be with her. And it was precisely this evening that a thug decided to steal the fund from you.

 You were at gunpoint with your hands up in the air when you saw a red and black mass fall behind the thug.

 "Hey buddy, I think the bank is across the street"

 Spider-Man tapped the thief on the shoulder and dodged a punch.

 "But I think I'll arrest you anyway if you went to the bank. You don't seem like a nice guy." Peter joked.

 You were paralyzed as your friend, your best friend if you were honest, chained or avoided them with agility. You swallowed hard, unable to move or run away. A gunshot rang out and you smelled a scared little vintage. Peter squeezed the barrel of the gun in his hand, deviating from his course. It made sense now to say that he had simply defended himself against the assault. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Peter stared the offender against a fridge door, immobilizing him. He then turned to you, oblivious to your identity at the time.

 "Are you okay there?"

"Peter!"

 You didn't give him the chance to realize and you rushed into his arms, hugging him so tight to feel the comfort of his body against yours.

 "Uh, yeah, you're welcome. Cuddles are nice but ..."

 He paused for a moment and his automated eyes widened. He knew his perfume. The flowery, sweet scents that he had missed so much. Is this possible?

 "Y/N?"

 You let go of him and immediately put his mask back on. Adrenaline was controlling your actions and god damn it, you needed that touch. You kissed him, bluntly. Your lips crushed against his in impatience, in ardor, but too bad. You needed to feel it against you, to regain the feeling that you had felt, years ago. After a few seconds, you felt Peter's hands encircle your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your heart was exploding, the ardor was present in your kiss. You were even frustrated that you couldn't grab her brown curls with full hands, settling for only the base of her hair. You let out a moan before pulling away abruptly. He had a girlfriend.

 "I… I'm sorry. I… Sorry, I didn't mean… MJ… and… please don't blame me."

 Peter silenced you with another kiss, shorter this time but so good.

 “There is no MJ .... Just you and me ... Far Longer Than Forever”

 You looked at him hopefully and then burst out laughing after his words.

 "I didn't know you were so romantic, Parker"

"Shut your mouth."

"Make me"

"You are impossible."

"But obviously, you like"

 He was going to say something to nag you, he was looking for it but you caught him off guard, placing your lips on his again. You could feel his smile in the kiss and you couldn't help but do the same. Anyone living in the neighborhood present in the street would have a view of Spider-Man kissing the student cashier from Delmar. But you couldn't care less. You had waited too long and the joy you were feeling now was so intense, you didn't want to stop feeling this. It is reluctantly that Peter moved away from you apologizing for the fact that he had to go on patrol again.

 "Go save the Spider-Man neighborhood"

"Only if you promise me you'll be there when I get back."

"I was thinking of going to say goodnight to May instead ... But if you want, I have a sleeping bag in the storeroom."

"You are incorrigible .... See you later ..."

"See you later."

 You smiled, in a misty state of bliss as Peter disappeared from view. This time, you weren't planning to escape, you wanted to fall into the webs of Peter Parker. You closed the store after the police visit and headed to May's flat. It was late but with her kindness she welcomed you with open arms.

 This summer ... was the best in years but the others to come were going to be even more wonderful.

[randomfandomimagine]

Meeting Doc (Marty McFly x Reader)

Characters: Marty McFly, Emmet ‘Doc’ Brown

Fandom: Back to the Future

Tags: Meeting the family

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,4k words

Requested by (Marty) anon: hey Trish!! would you be up for a Marty ficlet where he takes reader (his s/o) with him to meet Doc, and Doc's kind of apprehensive and protective of Marty at first but after awhile he warms up to reader and they all just end up goofing off together at the end? have a wonderful day :)

Link: AO3

A/N: Here it is! I hope you like it, lovely! It was fun to write and to explore this side of the characters!

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!! // Masterlist

Marty McFly x Gender Neutral Reader

Everyone in Hill Valley had heard about Doctor Brown. He was the strange scientist of the town. Some called him crazy and some called him dangerous. Being Marty McFly’s partner, though, you pictured a very different version of that same man.

In Marty’s eyes, Doc was a genius. He was a misunderstood person who was in love with science and very passionate about it, constantly trying out new inventions that would quench his curiosity and help the world.

Perhaps none of those versions were true, but merely the projections of the people that looked at him. Nonetheless, you were more inclined to believe Marty than everyone else. Of course, it helped that Marty was your boyfriend, but Doc didn’t seem dangerous. At the very least, he was a very interesting and unique person that you couldn’t wait to meet.

“Okay” Marty stopped before Doc’s residence, licking his lips and turning to you.

You didn’t know who was more nervous about this meeting, you or Marty. Although you weren’t sure if you would make a good first impression, it was clear that this was very important to Marty too. The both of you were the most important people in his life, and he couldn’t bear the thought of you two not getting along.

“Okay….” He repeated, taking a deep breath. “Are you ready, Y/N?”

“Yeah” You smiled at him and took his hand. “I’m excited to meet him”

“Now, before we come in…” Marty paused, lifting your hand and patting it. “You know Doc’s a little...”

“What?”

“Well… you may think he’s a bit… wacky”

“So I heard”

“Yeah, I know, but…” Marty kept playing with your hand, moving it around as he tried to push out any of his nervous energy. “It takes a bit to really get him, you know? But once you do, he’s the best”

“What are you trying to say?”  

“He’s just different from everyone else in Hill Valley”

“Marty” You patiently said, returning to your sweet smile. “I know what people say about Doc, and it doesn’t bother me”

“Really?” He finally smiled, sighing in relief once you eased his fear.

“Yeah, he might be different, but that just means he’s not boring” You paused, watching how his tense shoulders relaxed slightly. “I want to meet him, and not just because you want me to. I want to meet your friend, who also happens to seem like a very interesting person”

“You’re the best” Marty leaned in to kiss you in the cheek. “Let’s come in then”

You took a deep breath as he opened the door for you. Immediately, you were received with a very different environment than the one you were just in outside of the house. The entire room was dark and felt heavy with electricity. It also smelled slightly like chemicals.

A sudden fear reached you once you realized you knew nothing about science. What if you had nothing in common with Doc to get along with him? It would break Marty’s heart if you two just stood there awkwardly.

“Doc?” He called out, bringing you back to reality as he tugged at your hand, directing you with him through the messy house. “Doc, we’re here!”

After some rustling, footsteps were heard. A tall man with disheveled white hair appeared wearing a white lab coat, with wide eyes and goggles over his forehead.

“Great Scott!” The man muttered, quickly looking at his wristwatch. “Is it time already?”

“Yeah” Marty put his hands on your shoulders. “Y/N is here”

“Doctor Brown!” You smiled at him, offering your hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Marty has told me all about you”

The man stayed distant for a moment as he carefully watched you.

“Yeah, yeah…” He dryly said, absently shaking your hand. “You too”

“Y/N was really excited to meet you, Doc” Marty beamed, shaking you around a little as though passing over to you more of that excitement.

The man only nodded, lifting his chin up and looking down at you. His brown eyes were filled with distrust. Suddenly, that eagerness you felt died down. Instead, it was replaced by a cold disappointment.

Marty had talked so highly of Doc that you thought he was one of the best people in Hill Valley. However, now that you had met him in person, he behaved in a petty manner.

“Tell me, how long have you and Marty been together?” He then asked, to make matters worse. His tone was harsh and judgmental.

“Doc…” Marty complained, but you answered the question nonetheless.

“Almost a year”

“Do you get good grades?”

“Doc!”

The man shut his mouth, looking at his friend in startle. You clenched your jaw, standing up straight to show him you weren’t intimidated by his questioning.

“Is this an interview?” You demanded to know, forcing him to face you.

The two of you glared at each other, further challenging one another. You could feel Marty’s eyes moving from him to you. He stirred in the spot before finally piping up.

“Uh… y-you know what?” Marty nervously said, passing a hand through his hair. “Why don’t I show Y/N that thing you invented? You know, that gadget thingy”

“Very well” Doc replied without glancing at him, too busy staring at you.

“I’ll be right back!” Marty exclaimed as he ran off, trying to take as little time away from you as possible.

As soon as your boyfriend disappeared in the next room, you acquired a defensive stance to mask your outrage. No matter how smart ‘Doc’ was, you weren’t going to let him do that.

“Doctor Brown” You gravely began. “With all due respect, I don’t know what your problem with me is, and I honestly don’t care. I think we should put our differences aside for Marty’s sake”

He opened his mouth to reply, but you interrupted, foreseeing a complaint.

“If you don’t like me for, that’s alright” You continued, peering up at him to meet his tall stature. “But it’s very important to Marty that we get along, so I suggest you do it for him if you really care so much about him”

The scientist stared at you in awe. After a moment of surprise, he smiled at you.

“You are absolutely right”

“T-Thank you”

“I apologize, it was unfair of me to treat you like that” Doc bowed his head down as a sign of respect. “I was only looking out for Marty, but if you truly care so much about him, I must have been too quick to judge you”

“Of course I care about Marty!” You loudly said, lowering your tone when you realized he might return soon. “That is why I wanted to meet you on the first place, Doctor Brown!”

“As did I” He sighed, shaking his head to himself. “Forgive me, Y/N, I merely wanted to ensure you were good for Marty. He is an extraordinary young man and he deserves the very best”

“I agree” Now that the tension had dissipated, a more comfortable silence established. However, you crossed your arms, trying to appear nonchalant. “And well… am I good for him?”

“I’m here!” Marty arrived just then, interrupting the scientist before he could reply. However, the smile in his lips was answer enough.

“Ah, thank you, Marty” He said instead, taking a small oval shaped gadget from him.

“What were you talking about?” The young man looked from one to the other again.

“I was telling Y/N that… I was frustrated with a project… but that is no excuse, I still shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I’m sorry”

“Thank you. And it’s alright”

“Allow me to start again” Doc cleared his throat, offering you his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’m Doctor Emmett Brown, but you can call me Emmett”

“It’s nice to meet you, Emmett” You replied with a smile, giving his hand a firm but gentle shake.

A pause followed. Watching Marty with the corner of your eye, you realized he was smiling wide and had the emotion reflected in his eyes. You smiled to yourself.

“Tell me, Y/N” Emmett then said, motioning in a friendly gesture. “Would you like to know how my invention works?”

“I would love to” You took Marty’s hand, following Doc as he went to turn all the lights on and demonstrate to you how his new invention worked.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn​ / @fandomxreaders​ /  @fortheloveofbenyandtom​ / @caswinchester2000​ / @dancingwith-sunflowers​ / @welcome-here-in-my-world / @unstable-puffin-writing​​ // Send an ask if you want to be added to the tag list for this fandom!

[ackerfics]

hi, rory! <3 what majors would the sc veterans take if they were in the modern world?

hi, anon !! thank you so much for this ask, this is heaven in disguise from all my schoolwork. tbh, the whole time i was working for a lab report, my mind will go back to this ask bc i wanted to have the association as accurate as possible hhhajshw

i asked one of my friends for help and thank God for them bc my single brain cell really said 'it's time for you to rest' after staring at one backlog. without further ado, here are the veterans' majors if they're studying in university:

first off, hange zoe, because if you ask me this question in real life, they would be the only one i can answer. every damn time i would think of them in a college setting, being a biology major is really hange's forte. at this point, this is what everyone would associate them with.

hange is all about experimenting and doing brilliant breakthroughs in any field of science but knowing that they have this unparalleled fascination with the unusual and unexpected life-forms (ahem titans ahem), the biology lab would be the surest place where you could find hange. i feel like biology is too broad so i will add that microbiology or bacteriology are just some of the specializations they will be taking in their time in college.

imagine, being lab partners with hange and immediately knowing that you will have one of the highest grades in the class because they're that well-versed in a specific lab report. and if you're partners with them for the rest of the academic year, you might as well have a shot at an immaculate grade. i'm not saying that you should depend on them too much though hHHHH, hange is still a member of the majority of the student body who relies heavily on caffeine to keep them invigorated. who isn't at this point?

so far, some of the biology majors that i encountered (well, more like chatted behind a screen — online classes suck), they have this energy that could drain my social battery too quickly and hange fits that description. (note that this doesn't apply to any college bc i observed this in mine soooo 🤭) they're the type to always go on a tangent on a certain science article or coerce you into joining this org thing. i can imagine levi just looking at hange like they're the one sucking his brain cells out whenever they speak about a documentary in bbc they watched the night before.

and if you're stuck on anything biology-related, hange will be the best person to ask help from. they're the first ray of sunlight you get while waking up. they're that approachable.

okay, so erwin smith.

don't come at me but he just radiates this ceo vibes and with that, one of his probably majors is business administration. i know this is so stereotypical of me but let's face it, erwin is a smooth talker through and through and if he doesn't take up marketing, business is one way to spend his college years. knowing his personality in attack on titan of establishing deals easily with a determined resolve, he fits the broadest description of being a business administration major. (again, don't come at me because my consultant for this statement is google and nobody comes after google sometimes hhhhh)

just for the benefit of myself, i will add what google says about this major, "[they] learn the mechanics of business through classes in fundamentals, such as finance, accounting and marketing ... students find ways to solve problems using data and they develop communication and managerial skills." and i thank you.

he's also probably the most well-spoken and most professional when conversing with others among his friends (and i'm not saying this to drag the other characters but this is what i pick up on) and that is exactly the qualities his major specializes. it is expected for them to strike deals and be a people person and who better character for the job than our very own erwin smith 🤩

now i mentioned 'one of the probable majors' and yes, aside from business administration, philosophy just exudes erwin smith. ngl, when i imagined erwin in a college setting, this major will always come first. his mind is just so sexy to me??? and i hope you guys think the same, too, because i don't want to be the only one who thinks that 👀 kidding aside, erwin is one of the smartest people in attack on titan and every time he speaks in one episode, my brain will instantly go mush, and that's what i feel when i hear philosophy majors talk.

philosophy majors (according to any other youtuber who does lookbooks for various majors hhhhhh) challenge what is unanswerable and analyze questions with no right answer. i feel like erwin, like hange, will talk all night to explain a theory. just imagine a date with him and you just listen to him rant about a topic that they should be making a report on. just listen to this man, okay?? it's adorable when he lets his guard down to include you in his little bubble of philosophies. he would also mention random things that he learned in classes, sometimes finding joy in knowing the philosophies of other people, or even deciphering levi's dream of an apocalyptic world. (it pisses levi off but he just leave him be.)

if you want a man who can do both of these majors, erwin smith is the answer 😉

sigh, mike zacharias.

this man holds so many talents and will forever amaze me.

i assume all of us here watched the movie perfume. and no, i'm not saying that mike is going to be a murderer but just like the main character of that film, making perfumes will be his forte with that sense of smell of his. and here, i conclude that mike will definitely take up chemical engineering.

he gives me the vibes that if it covers the one thing he does best, he will love his major. (mr. zacharias, can you please spare me that quality because i really need that now 😩) being in the labs while experimenting mundane things that can be found in the environment to create different scents is also a likely situation you can find him in, again, very much like hange. he's the type of student who really puts so much effort in staying afloat the honors list, even to the point of topping midterms in his major, for the sake of his dream. there will never be a moment where you will catch him complain about his major and professors.

he's that type of friend in college who agrees to any rant you say but in reality, he's got his life easy 😭

i headcanon mike owning a perfume shop after college just like how levi always dreamed of having a tea shop.

okay, imagine this little scenario if you're dating mike where he creates this unique perfumes as random gifts for you. they're not the typical perfumes that can seep through the room and can make you gag for no reason, they're subtle scents that will stay for the duration of the day. because again, he's got a sensitive nose, so making perfumes according to what his sense of smell dictates will always result in a revolutionary experiment. if you're randomly blurting out that you want a fusion of flowers and fruits as your perfume, say no more, he's your man.

now, the veteran who i find the hardest to associate a major with — levi ackerman.

after much deliberation and a break from plant physiology, i see him taking up law or criminology.

(i asked some of this from my mom because she attended law school :>>>)

levi is so organized and detailed in the things that he do and he fits in either of these majors since they require tedious memorizations and analysis of laws and crime scenes while being assertive enough to defend someone. he's the typical person who blurts out the true situation of a crime scene when watching film adaptations. yeah, he's that person, the one who sucks the enthusiasm out of you while watching a movie because he just had to correct some of the scenes. nevertheless, he means well though, he just wanted you to understand the reality unlike how films portray gruesome murders. movie nights always end up with levi ranting about half-assed mystery clichés.

levi's binder of readings are always too bright for everyone's good. his notes are full of highlighters and scribbles that it can blind someone. for one, he's always up all night studying his readings and cases for a practice court so by choosing neon highlighters, it's a way for him to wake up. there isn't one book in his possession that he doesn't highlight like it's a fricking coloring book. hange once jokingly said that his binder now acts like his bible and for once, he agrees because he was never seen without one. hange had a field day since levi never agrees with them.

when doing practice courts though, his go-to resting bitch face always come in handy when carrying out his role as one of the lawyers. he's just so sexy with his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he tries to justify his supposed client. the way he questions the accused definitely isn't hot because he's like one of the panelists in your thesis defense, the one who just comes up with questions that have you melting on the spot. he's dangerous i tell you. it also doesn't help if you accidentally hurt one of his friends or just landed randomly in his blacklist for being annoying as hell. relax though, he doesn't mean harm other than the fact that he's ready to throw some hands from all the pent-up rage he gathered in his body.

of course, i couldn't forget how he dresses up like a typical dark academia fanatic so look out for eye-candy.

if you want someone who can recite articles from the constitution, this man is perfect for you 😌

i had so much fun doing this !! again, i'm not generalizing every major i've talked about in these little headcanons, this is all for fun and based on the people i encountered in college. if you want more of this, don't hesitate to ask !! 😚

[3liza]

hey im not gonna spread your weird social media-mediated brain infection on my blog, instead here are some cool studies to look at about how the "beautiful people have an easier life, every day, all the time" is a simplistic view, and is also patriarchal as fuck. more recent studies on "beauty privilege" are finding that the issue is complex, and that perceived beauty acts as a negative pressure in some/many social situations. i have always wondered why my experiences varied so much from the apparent wonderland the pop-science concept of "beauty privilege" paints, and more recent studies (often designed by women this time, imagine) are getting into the complexity there.

you personally may want to think about not reading my social media accounts if they are making you feel and act like this. i think i am not going to interact with you anymore if i can help it because i feel bad about what it is doing to you. anyway.

the short version is that beauty is beneficial in heterosexual social situations when dealing with the opposite sex, but detrimental when dealing with the same sex. this aspect of the research is usually ignored because who needs nuance in their pop psychology, right? not this guy (pointing 2 self)

very simply put, a beautiful woman can flirt her way out of a ticket from a heterosexual male cop. if she tries it on a person who doesnt consider her a potential romantic partner, there may be (and apparenly often are) negative consequences.

similarly in my own life i find that 99% of the apparent opportunities i'd been given for being young and fuckable were predicated on me actually fucking* the person who "offered" them, and most of them turned out to be fake/insincere opportunities anyway. tumblr refers to this as "grooming" when applied to child subjects (which i was, for much of it) but the behavior persists into the target's adulthood, middle age, and even old age if certain conditions are met. i can't find any studies on this because you can't put a Sleazy Guy in a lab setting and ask him "hey were you actually going to hire this woman on hte up-and-up, or were you going to 'hire' her and then spend 16 months making increasingly deranged sexual harassment attempts before reporting her to HR for made-up reasons and then finally firing her or hamstringing her career? just wondering".

i always think about that episode of Always Sunny where Mac goes nuts because every kid in his class was molested by the gym teacher and he imagines this to be some sort of privilege, even though charlie was one of the victims and is clearly devastated by it. thats what this conversation feels like every time it gets to the level of anons making fake tumblr accounts to KEEP pestering me about this stuff. remember that thing i said earlier about blood in the water, and how i dont post about bad shit that happened to me because it attracts the wrong kind of attention??? hehuehueheuheuhuehriuhgfidsrhru

actually thats a whole other realm of study: why victims of sexual assault and abuse are often re-victimized. until recently it was assumed that the victims were making bad decisions in who to trust, and this is sooorrrrtt of true, but doesn't tell the whole story. i read a study once that i am trying to find and will post later if i find it, that took video of adult women study subjects (who had agreed to be filmed) walking normally just down the street publically, and showed this video to male test subjects. if im remembering the study correctly, which i may not be, the male subjects who scored higher on psychopathy indices were better able to indentify the women in the test footage who had been sexually assaulted at some point in their former lives.

something to think about is a lot of "attractive" qualities (including proccupation with physical appearance leading to altering that appearance to be more beautiful), especially in the manic pixie archetype, are very strongly represented in trauma victims, especially sexual assault survivors (as is the opposite, intentionally trying to be "unattractive" to avoid further victimization). this includes "seductiveness", one of the adjectives used to diagnose child sexual abuse victims before the verbiage in the literature got cleaned up. obviouly a child cant be "seductive" and thats pretty offensive and fucked up to say. what they meant is that the childs behavior has been altered by trauma to become sexualized to appease attackers. this is part of the "fawn" sector of emergency responses in humans (along with fight, flight, and freeze).

so when we talk so cavalierly of "beauty" and "attractive people" vs "unattractive people" we are simplifying an issue that is so complex it is difficult even to think about. this complexity makes me go "hmm" every time theres a study on it, much less a popular belief. a lot of it sort of doesnt square with easily-observable phenomena: if physical beauty is so correlated to success, why are the 1% of wealthy people, politicians, actual power-holders, hell even the CEOs of normal companies, very very rarely what you would consider physically beautiful, even when they havent aged out of what the culture thinks is the maximum span of time someone can be "hot"? some of this is just personal preference, and it's real hard to study any of this because of how complex that issue becomes. but where are all these hot successful people i keep hearing about? are they all trophy spouses and retired from the public eye? you can definitely cherrypick examples of "influencers" etc but thats an extremely narrow line of work, and not representative.

anyway! lot of the "do beautiful people get more stuff" research is from quite a while ago, wasnt designed well, and was based on a work and social culture that was quite a bit different than it is now. but even older studies document this effect. ive spent like many minutes typing about this stupid bullshit so im bored and annoyed now and i dont want to type about it anymore

1. Effects of Self-Esteem Threat on Physical Attractiveness Stereotypes

2. Does being attractive always help? positive and negative effects of attractiveness on social decision making (cant find the sci-hub version, alas, but documents a negative effect we're actually seeing an anecdotal example of in my inbox rn)

3. Is beauty a gift or a curse? The influence of an offender’s physical attractiveness on forgiveness

* often it wasnt even just a sex thing. it's very very often a romance/relationship that is desired by the perpetrator. it's a misapprehension of the public that sexual harassment/grooming is "just about sex" or even less accurately "just about power", it isnt

[canonicallyanxious]

“i trust you, too.”

Druck | Fatou/Kieu My | 1.5k words

Inspired by this prompt from anonymous: kieu my painting fatou's nails

-

Thank you for the prompt, anon!! Post-canon/established relationship set in the summertime bc I’m tired of this winter and I miss the warmth. hope you enjoy this tiny thing! <3

The patio door’s wide open, gauzy curtains gently caught on the breeze - which looks nice, sure, but does almost nothing to combat the oppressive heat of the summer hanging over Kieu My’s room. The ceiling fan is turning at full speed, and Fatou has a tall tumbler filled to the brim with ice sitting cradled in her hands. Doesn’t seem to help all that much, honestly. She presses the glass to her cheek and shudders at the sudden cold. It feels good in that one spot, a sharp contrast to the hot stickiness plastering her shirt to her skin. If she poured it all over herself she’d probably make a mess of Kieu My’s room. So she can’t do that, because it’d be rude as hell.

Still. It’d be nice.

Kieu My’s down to a black tank top and a pair of Fatou’s shorts, face bare of make-up and hair pulled hastily up into a messy bun. She hardly put any effort into it, wispy strands slipping out of its hold and falling into her eyes as she stretches her arms above her head, tank top riding up a couple centimeters to expose the smooth tan of her stomach. Maybe six months ago Fatou wouldn’t have even allowed herself to daydream of something like this, to imagine she could be in such close proximity to someone so beautiful. She would have been a stuttering mess if Kieu My so much as took her jacket off in front of her - had been, in fact, embarrassing as it was to remember. Back then it almost seemed like she belonged to some faraway planet Fatou would never have the guts to reach. Too pretty, too bright to be quite true.

Now there are no nerves, no butterflies in her stomach. Now looking at Kieu My fills her with peace, with stillness. Now she knows - the most beautiful thing about Kieu My is how real she is.

Kieu My exhales, long and low, and meets Fatou’s eyes. There’s a very faint flush in her cheeks, from the heat or something else Fatou couldn’t say. “Can’t even think in this fucking heat,” she murmurs. Her tongue swipes over her bottom lip, slightly chapped.

Fatou carefully sets the glass down on the floor. “Would you want to be thinking?”

“Don’t know.”

A long pause. Almost like Kieu My doesn’t know what to say next. That’s okay, though. Fatou can fill in the gaps for herself.

“So you need a distraction,” she says.

Kieu My huffs out a quiet laugh. “Like what?”

“Like…” Fatou stretches her legs out in front of her and frowns down at her feet, thinking hard. She flexes her foot, letting her toes brush against Kieu My’s shin.

Her toes.

She breaks into a smile. “Like painting my toenails,” she says, giving them another little wriggle for good measure.

Kieu My pinches Fatou’s big toe between two fingers. “Yeah?”

“I’ve been meaning to do them for a while, anyway.” Fatou shrugs. “I can do yours too, if you want. If you trust me.”

“Of course I trust you,” Kieu My says with a roll of her eyes. She reaches behind her and grabs a pile of random nail polish bottles from her nearby dresser. She dumps them on the floor and flourishes her hands dramatically over them. “What color would you like, m’lady?”

Fatou lets herself fall down onto the floor, face turned to the ceiling and arms folded across her stomach. “You pick.”

Kieu My circles her hand around her ankle and pulls her foot into her lap. “Are you sure?”

Fatou nods.

“Okay.” Kieu My’s expression turns playfully stern. “Don’t look, then. It needs to be a surprise.”

Fatou squints at the ceiling, the motion of the fan above her head blurring across her vision. Kind of makes her dizzy if she looks at it for too long, even lying down. It’s moving too fast to count the rotations. She doesn’t even try.

There’s the sound of a nail polish bottle being screwed open. “Are you looking?” Kieu My says accusingly. There’s too much of her smile in her voice for it to sound real, though. Fatou doesn’t have to look to know that.

“No.” She closes her eyes. “I trust you, too.”

Kieu My says nothing to that. So there’s silence for a bit. Fatou listens to it carefully. Cars passing by the open patio door, rhythmic like an ocean; the gentle clink of the nail polish brush against the bottle; Kieu My’s breaths, slow and measured and focused as she works. She’s quite meticulous about this kind of thing, always careful to do it the right way. If Fatou had to guess she’s probably starting with a coat of clear polish. Then there will be two coats of color, and a coat of varnish to seal it all away. The color, whatever it is, will last a while this time - Fatou already knows it.

The brush is a nice feeling against her nails, oddly enough. She’s never really paid much attention to the sensation before - never really had much reason to. She could be on her phone right now if she wanted to be. Or reading a book. Or thinking about some distant world lightyears away. But this is nice, too. No distractions means she can pay attention to the feeling of Kieu My’s hands against her skin. Which is kind of one of her favorite things to do.

“You okay over there?” Fatou says to the ceiling.

“Yeah.” Fingertips press lightly into the sole of her foot, warm and reassuring. “Nice to have something to do with my hands.”

Fatou considers those words. “You don’t like doing nothing, do you?”

“Not really.”

Fatou hums tunelessly. “Don’t like being bored?”

Kieu My snorts. “No, nothing like that.” She sighs, hands brushing against Fatou’s foot as she works. “It’s more… Sometimes my thoughts move so fast, you know? It’s… overwhelming. Like they’re just racing and racing and I don’t even know what they’re saying, all I know is that they’re moving. And sometimes I don’t know how to make them stop.”

“That doesn’t sound fun,” Fatou says.

Kieu My laughs. It sounds a little self-deprecating. “I don’t know. Things get too loud sometimes, I guess. But if I have something to focus on… That helps make things go quiet again, for a bit.”

It makes sense, if she thinks about it. What Kieu My needs is not so much a distraction, but a focal point. Some direction for all the motion in her head to go. Fatou thinks she knows a little of what that’s like, to crave something to anchor yourself to. The thought of drifting away with nothing to hold onto scares her more than she’d probably admit out loud.

“Sorry.” Fatou can almost hear Kieu My shaking her head, can almost see the way her hair brushes over her shoulders in her mind’s eye. “Sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all.” Fatou taps her fingers against her other wrist as she tries to find the words. “I was just thinking I kind of feel like I have the opposite problem sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

“Like…” She chews at her lip. “Like my thoughts are moving through molasses. Like sometimes I’m just… floating.”

Silence, for a beat. Then:

“Maybe if we melded our brains together,” Kieu My says, “we could have one super-brain that goes at the right speed and then we’ll almost be one fully functioning human being.”

Laughter springs out of Fatou, unbidden. “What a dream.”

“Science will get us there one day.”

“Yeah?” Fatou cracks an eye open and smiles at Kieu My. “Do you think we’ll be drift-compatible if they start making jaegers?”

“Duh.” Kieu My grins back at Fatou. “Don’t ask me to fight monsters from another dimension though, that sounds fucking hard. We can use our jaeger to - fuck, I don’t know, travel the world or something. That sounds like something you can do in a jaeger, right?”

“Or go to space.” Fatou tucks her hands under her head. “You can’t tell me a giant robot person wouldn’t make the coolest spaceship you’ve ever seen.”

“I can’t because you’re absolutely right.”

Kieu My makes a quiet little noise of satisfaction, then. There’s the sound of a nail polish bottle being screwed closed, and the warmth of a bare palm resting against the top of Fatou’s foot.

“Done,” Kieu My says. “Wanna see?”

Fatou props herself up on her elbows, and looks down.

“Wow,” she says. She wiggles her toes, now painted a midnight blue that gleams and shimmers when caught in the light. “It’s beautiful.”

Kieu My uses a hand to push her bangs out of her face. “I picked a color that reminds me of you.”

“Does that mean I need to pick a color that reminds me of you?”

Kieu My shrugs. “If you want.”

Fatou reaches into the pile of nail polish and pulls out a bottle filled to the brim with a deep crimson red.

“The color of your heart,” she says.

Kieu My looks up at her. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Fatou says. “You picked the color of mine.”

Kieu My reaches out and closes Fatou’s fingers around the bottle, warmth of her palm resting lightly against her knuckles.

“You say such pretty things,” she says.

Fatou meets Kieu My’s eyes. “I only say things that are true.”

“Yeah,” Kieu My says, and smiles. “Same thing.”

[pinkpastels113]

Talk Numbers To Me

Rating: G

Word Count: 3,326

Pairing: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell

Summary: In which Chloe gets help from her mathematical genius.

End B/C. One-Shot. Fluff. Tumblr prompt.

Read on ao3 or ff.net or below.

Prompt from anon; hope you all like.

Chloe shuffles her papers, kicking her feet in frustration at the numbers swirling in her head. Her hand flies to her hair, the pencil tangling in its strands.

“You okay there, Chloe?”

She looks up, sees Stacie blink questioningly at her from the microwave, and gives a tentative smile. “Yeah, just...” she sighs. “Homework.”

Stacie nods, retrieving her dinner burritos and closing the microwave door. “Do you need help?”

Chloe bites her lip and looks back down at the sheets of homework staring back at her from the kitchen table, its once clean blank lines now covered in blurry grey smudges. She doesn’t want to be of any inconvenience. “Nah, I’ll be okay. Thank you though, Stacie.”

“Are you sure?” Stacie grabs for a napkin before making her way over, “Because if it’s science, I can definitely help you out.”

Chloe carefully detangles her pencil from her pounding head, laying it back down onto the wooden surface. It’s not science, but something in Stacie’s tone of voice has her intrigued. “Oh?”

Stacie pulls out a chair, sits. She sets her styrofoam plate down onto an area not littered by mountains of paperwork and reaches for the one directly in front of Chloe. “Yup. I double major in Chemistry and Biomedical engineering. Which pretty much covers all the sciences that you could possibly take in your second senior year.”

Chloe raises her eyebrows, impressed. “Wow. I didn’t know that you double major, Stace. That’s amazing.”

Her fellow Bella just shrugs, eyes quickly scanning the page. “Eh, it’s alright. I love science anyways so it’s no big deal.” She then pauses, presumably figuring out that the subject of Chloe’s dilemma is most definitely not the one of which she is an expert in. “Oh, this is math.”

Chloe groans just at the mention of the word, tilting her head back to the fluorescent light of the kitchen ceiling. “Yeah, math. The worst form of torture in the entire world.”

Stacie just chuckles, shaking her head, “Only to people who don’t understand it.” She then stands, clutching Chloe’s topic of frustration between a thumb and forefinger. “I would love to help you out, Chloe, but I think someone else may be better at explaining this for you. She is a math genius after all.”

Chloe gets out of her chair as well, brows furrowing curiously as she trails behind the tall brunette, only then realizing that they are making their way to the living room, where the sounds of the tv can be heard, signalling the presence of the rest of the Bellas. “Someone else? Who else could be better at math than a Biomedical engineer?”

“Someone who actually studies it.”

And before Chloe could even ponder over which Bella would possibly want to subject themselves to the torture that is freaking mathematics, they have reached the entrance of the living room, and Stacie has called out the answer.

“Hey, Beca!”

What?

Chloe gapes, completely taken aback as she watches the unrequited love of her life look up from the screen of her phone at the mention of her name. “Yeah?”

Stacie waves the paper in her hand even as she continues to stalk forward. “Chloe needs your help with some math. I said that I would, but I just figured that a double math and physics major such as yourself would be a much better and viable option.”

Understandably, Chloe is not the only one in the room to have no previous knowledge of this news, or the only one to be completely shocked by it. Fat Amy turns away from the tv to quirk a disbelieving brow. “Double major? Shawshank? Math and Physics ?”

Chloe couldn’t help but agree. She knows that it’s wrong and impolite to underestimate a person’s abilities on what he or she could or not do, especially when said abilities are in academics—after all, they are all still in college—but Beca ? One of her best friends in the whole wide world, not to mention her secret crush/obsession/favorite person/love of her life and possibly all the lives she could possibly have hereafter—if she believes in that kind of stuff, which she kind of does, especially if it pertains to a possibility of her getting together with said love in one of those lives in the far future—with whom she had been pining for—especially at the times where it had been particularly difficult and tiresome—seemingly since the beginning of time? Beca, who would always tend to blow off school until the very last minute; Beca, who would rather spend time fiddling with her music in her room all by herself with just her and her headphones rather than indulge in books or people or anything not involving of her mixing board unless someone—usually Chloe—had to physically drag her away from the screen of her computer to go hang out? Beca?

Shouldn’t she have known everything there is to know about Beca in all these years—albeit technically that only includes two, but sometimes she really just feels like they have known each other since they were kids—that they’ve been friends? Teammates? Roommates? Family?

Beca rolls her eyes, stretching her arms in front of her chest to pull her body into a proper sitting position on the side of the couch. She locks and tosses aside her phone. “Yeah, I couldn’t decide which one to pick so I just decided to go for both. You guys didn’t know?”

Chloe finally finds it within herself to blurt out something that does not include her incredulity of the small brunette being capable of taking the most ruthless and tedious majors that there could possibly be in all the majors one could take at Barden University, “No, Beca, we didn’t.”

Jessica, Ashley, Flo, and Cynthia Rose collectively shake their heads in agreement.

Lilly just blinks, and Fat Amy’s lone brow stays exactly where it is.

Stacie snorts, Chloe’s paper dangling casually between two perfectly manicured nails against her side as she crosses her arms, shifting her weight onto one foot, “Figures. I suppose you all didn’t know that I am a double major too, did you?”

Six of the Bellas’ attention spotlight on the slightly indignant brunette, gasps and shouts of surprise and amazement instantly tossed into the air, Stacie’s explanation of the functionality of Biomedical Engineering immediately a follow up, but Chloe barely notices, because she is too busy having a silent exchange with her co-captain still situated on the couch.

She widens her eyes. Is this true? Are you being serious?

Beca nods, smirks. Hell yeah I am.

Chloe tilts her head, pouts. Why didn’t you tell me?

Beca shrugs. Didn’t find a reason to. She then rubs the back of her neck, looking suddenly sheepish and uncomfortable. And it’s not like it’s a big deal.

Chloe frowns, shakes her hands about. It is a big deal to me ! She then gestures between the pair of them. We’re friends, Becs, we are supposed to tell each other these kinds of things!

Beca tips her chin to the front of her chest, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and then peers at her shyly through her lashes. Sorry, Chlo.

Chloe’s heart melts, her feet immediately carrying her forward, and she lowers herself onto the couch cushions next to Beca, taking extensive care to not sit on her phone. She offers a soft and forgiving smile, before pulling her best friend swiftly into a hug. Don’t be sorry, Beca. She presses a kiss to her cheek. It’s okay.

Beca’s body relaxes, and somehow Chloe understands that the small brunette is relieved of the fact that Chloe is not mad or judgemental or flighty about how she is a double major in both math and physics. Chloe wonders if that is the reason why Beca hadn’t told her—that she had been afraid of her reaction—and if that is the reason why she had put on a brave face in front of the Bellas.

Beca always pretends like everything is fine and ineffective to her well being when she feels extremely self-conscious. She likes to put on a hard shell and proclaim the attitude of a “badass” to balm over her real emotions, to put on a show of I don’t care and whatever to mask over the I do care and I do feel.

Chloe gets the feeling that if it hadn’t been for Stacie—who’d most likely just stumbled across the discovery by accident—none of them would have known, until possibly graduation, when someone questioningly points out the lettering of her certificate, the duality of her degree.

Beca is bashful, self-conscious, secretive , of her abilities and status as a mathematical genius.

Chloe puts her lips to Beca’s ear. “Help me with my homework, please.”

She feels her best friend shiver, pull away, her beautiful stormy blues shy and reluctant as they flit across Chloe’s face, search between her eyes, and Chloe just sits and stays and waits until she says yes.

“Okay.”

Chloe beams, her arms unconsciously going around to surround Beca’s back for another embrace before she pulls away, and she stands up and makes her way over to Stacie, a bounce in her step as she taps the tall brunette—who’s now making fun of herself for being the “hot one” of the group—on the shoulder to get her attention, smiling gratefully when she turns and notices and hands her paper over.

“Thanks, Stace,” she says, winking to signal the double sentiment of her gratitude for both the help and the revelation of the information, grinning widely as Stacie comprehends and nods.

Hazel greens flash quickly and meaningfully to the slight brunette in the room, “Anytime.”

Chloe lets her return to her conversation with the rest of the Bellas, spinning around to purse her lips questioningly to ask Beca where it is that she wants to go.

My room.

Chloe leads the way, making a brisk detour to the kitchen to gather up her things, and she speeds up the stairs and skips down the hall, letting herself into the double bedded bedroom Beca currently shares with Amy.

“So why’d you choose math?” She decides between the bed and the desk chair, going for the bed.

Beca takes the chair. “I dunno,” she shrugs, “Just wanted to, I guess.”

Chloe sets the papers down onto the bedding, and makes herself comfortable. “You must really enjoy it for it to be a half of your double major, Becs.”

Beca gives a noncommittal hum, crossing her legs and wiping her hands onto the dark denim.

“And what about Physics? Any reason why you wanted to study that as well?”

“Oh,” Beca glances to her mixing board, “That’s just for sound engineering. It really makes it easier to find and test out the best places for a good mashup, and it’s really just useful for the recording and production of music.”

Chloe makes a small noise of understanding, following her line of sight briefly before going for the subject catalysing the shocking news of that evening. She picks up the first sheet of her homework, smoothing it out before offering it enthusiastically forwards, “So, math genius, you wanna let me know how it’s done?”

Beca grins, one hand caught between her thighs modestly as the other one reaches for the paper, “Sure, Beale. Good to know that you’re actually in need of my help for something.”

Chloe pushes back her hair, blinking at her in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Beca hides her face behind the frustrating sheet of paper, “Nothing. Just that you always seem to know exactly what you’re doing. Everybody always seems to go to you for help, never the other way around.”

Chloe’s heart flutters in her chest, and she has to push it down before it can go all swoony over the likely unintentional romantic admission. Later. “I don’t always seem to know exactly what I’m doing, Beca. I usually just wing it, and hope for the best.” At Beca’s disbelieving but playful scoff, she leans forward to bend over the top half of her paper, revealing Beca’s face, “And I’m here now, aren’t I? Math has always been a subject that I can absolutely not deal with.”

Beca rolls the tip of her tongue over the fronts of her teeth, “Only cuz nobody but nerds like me actually gets it. Still doesn’t establish the fact that you’re no less amazing and brilliant at everything else you do.”

If Beca had been Chloe’s girlfriend—if she had been dreaming that she is—Chloe would have lunged forward and kissed her senseless.

Settling for biting her lower lip anxiously to withhold the urge, Chloe gestures to the paper in her hands. “Well? Do you know how to do this?”

Beca looks like she’s just been snapped out of a daze. “Oh yeah, totally.” She spins around in her chair to reach for her bag, unzipping it and pulling out a tiny whiteboard from the utmost layer, as well as an Expo marker. “It’s kinda easy, actually. I can explain it.”

Chloe giggles at the materials in her hands as Beca turns back around. “Aw, that’s so cute!”

Beca glares, laying the whiteboard on one side of her lap and the paper in the other. “Shut up. It’s just convenient.”

Chloe mimes zipping and locking her lips and throwing away the key, but the smile on her face is irreplaceable.

Beca nudges open the cap of the Expo, letting it drop softly onto the floor at her feet as she rereads the question. “So, it says that this Marco dude needs to figure out where his stupid ball is gonna land if he throws it over the top of a building, so we have to make a graph.”

Chloe laughs, already comfortable with the familiar way Beca seems to make any situation less intimidating, “Do you talk to yourself like that when you do your own math?”

“Do you want my help or not?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Chloe lays a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her amusement. “Carry on.”

Beca shakes her head, apparently having gotten very invested in her knowledge of math despite being self-conscious of it, “Jesus, Chlo. Anyways,” she brings the tip of the marker onto the whiteboard to draw two perpendicular lines, “Here’s the graph—” she draws a rectangle to represent the aforementioned building, along with a dot at the y-intercept, “—and here’s our dude.”

“Ooh, can we write down Marco,” Chloe interrupts, bouncing in her seat and pointing to the blank and boring dot.

Beca gives her a look, before sarcastically heeding her request. Five letters were squished against the side of the y-axis with an adorable arrow, “There. Happy?”

Chloe blows her a kiss, “Very.”

Beca sighs, dramatically, before continuing on, “So as I was saying, there’s Marco, and his ball is—” she scribbles down a number next to the side, “Thrown from this height, and we need to figure out—” she dashes a parabolic line towards the situational ground, “Where this —” she makes another dot, labelling it “splat”—much to Chloe’s delight— on the x-axis, “Is.”

Chloe nods vigorously, chin in her hands as she shifts closer to the edge of the bed, her butt just barely situated on the mattress now as she leans closer for a better look, “Yeah, totes.”

Beca doesn’t seem to notice her new proximity, on a roll now that she has gotten started, “And they have given you the formula so now, considering the fact that gravity is a thing and negative distances are not—” she copies down the formula and writes down what the variables represent for her right under, “You just have to plug all this shit in to get the answer.”

“Ohh,” Chloe says, getting it, but it falls on deaf ears as Beca seems to automatically plug in the figures for her, crossing out variables and scribbling down altercations as she goes along, and Chloe’s jaw drops, as seconds later, she has come to a conclusion.

Beca scribbles down “20 feet” and circles it victoriously, a small but satisfactory “Aha” escaping her lips as she holds the whiteboard up to the light. “There, I got it.”

A sudden wave of heat pools low in her belly, and Chloe gasps as she tries to make sense of the unexpected spike of arousal at the sight of the wide and unrestrained and confident grin painting across Beca’s lips, at the sight of the happiness and satisfaction sparkling within stormy blues, and at the sight of the pink and musically talented tongue clenched between Beca’s teeth, as if used as an anchor to her excitement of getting another math problem right.

Holy heck, Beca Mitchell is hot when she does math.

Chloe must have made a distracting sound, because Beca suddenly jolts, as if just then realizing that she is not alone, pink flushing into her cheeks as she lowers the whiteboard, her uncontainable grin fading into a sheepish smile, and she meekly hands the answer over.

“Sorry,” she says, fidgeting uncomfortably in her chair, eyes downcast to her feet as she watches them scuffle nervously against the floor, “I just got so excited. I don’t know what came over me, Chlo, I—” she visibly swallows, “I hadn’t meant to just finish your problem for you.”

Screw it. It doesn’t freaking matter that Beca is not her girlfriend.

Chloe pushes the whiteboard aside and grasps the arms of Beca’s chair, yanking it and the person in it towards her waiting mouth, and she kisses her best friend/secret crush/obsession/favorite person/love of her life/mathematical genius square on the lips with as much fervor—if not more—as the moment previous in which she had desired to dole out when Beca had inadvertently complimented her as an amazing and capable and kind individual in and of itself, and she groans, her feet spreading to accommodate the chair between her legs and her brain kicking into overdrive to accommodate the gasp fluttering into her mouth.

Beca freezes, her eyes still presumably wide open as Chloe nips against her lips, and Chloe is just about to pull away and chart the situation up to another uncontrollable heat of the moment when she feels the small brunette reciprocate, arms wrapping around her neck and lips pressing closer, and Chloe slides her hands down from the arms of the chair to tuck between the cushion of the seat and Beca’s thighs, lifting her up and into the air before prompting dumping her in her lap, and she giggles as Beca huffs at the ease of which she has completed the action.

“Show off,” Beca grumbles, her minty breath a mournful absence as she pulls her mouth away to kiss the angle of Chloe’s jaw, “This is exactly what I had meant.”

Chloe tilts her head to allow Beca more access, “Coming from the person who had just figured out the answer to my mathematical problem in just a number of seconds, I think you are being irrational, Beca.”

Beca laughs, her nose nuzzling into the side of her neck affectionately at the pun, and Chloe’s heart pounds, her fingers immediately going to scramble her papers off the bed and her body further onto it. “That literally calculates up to zero creativity, Chlo.”

“Whatever,” she says, adjusting herself amongst the blue sheets and rectangular pillows, “I’m not a mathematical nerd, unlike someone I know.”

“Mm,” Beca reconnects their lips, her fingers playing the ends of Chloe’s hair, “Speaking of, are we gonna finish your homework?”

“Later,” Chloe tugs at their clothes, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of Beca’s wide and unrestrained smile, “We can do it later. Right now I just want my hot and secretive mathematical genius to talk numbers to me.”

---

I rushed through this in the span of four hours (not nearly long enough for me to make grammatical and detailing errors) so I hope you all enjoyed it despite my laziness :P

Also, if you’re the anon who gave me this prompt, I hope I did you justice, and that I hope you liked it despite any intentions that you had initially had at the suggestion of this prompt (I know I did, but oh well, what’s done is done, and I’m honestly just happy that I am finished lol).

Let me know what you all think! :))