rodrikstark's headcanons (part 1)

f. adler + spring

just a few months into your relationship, frank learns that you adore spring

like, a lot. enough that he comes home to the almost sickly sweet smell of yellow-white flowers stuck into vases, decorating any flat surface that happens to sit close enough to a sunlit window

he theorizes that your favorite part of it all is the colors

you don't even celebrate easter, but you insistently spoil mary with pastel pink, blue, and green chocolates from the store

after she finishes her homework, mary happily snacks on those as you watch youtube origami tutorials together, sometimes chatting, sometimes singing along to your favorite music

and soon mary's room is full of bright pieces of paper folded into intricate flowers and animals, some dangling off strings attached to her ceiling and walls

and, eventually

you bust out these light, wispy sundresses that almost reach the floor yet do nothing to disguise the silhouette of your legs

how is it possible that you're so soft, frank wonders, as he pushes the baby blue, barely-there fabric up and up and up your legs, your smiling lips dancing across his face

he's so fucked

he's so, so fucked