#frank holding a box

[luveline]

I’m obsessed with the sister!hotch and Reid fics. I can’t stop imagining that scene where Rossi goes to Garcia’s house and she’s fresh from the shower with Kevin. But instead is Hotch at readers house and Spencer is there.

—you and Spencer are in the midst of a long weekend together when your brother shows up unannounced. fem, 1.3k

“You’re really handsome.” 

Spencer laughs as you drag your hands back over his ears and through his sopping wet hair. The shower water is blissfully warm and soaking your front as it rains down on his head. You shield his eyes but otherwise have your fun. His hair is softer than anything you’ve ever felt. 

He holds your hands flat to his head. “You’re handsomer.” 

“Am I supposed to take that in a good way or a bad way?” you ask. 

“A good way!” he says, forgetting your hands in favour of guiding you under the water. “Handsome has nearly always been used for men more than women, but it didn’t fall out of fashion for girls until the fifties.” He tilts your head upward and to one side as his own begins to fall the other way. “You’re beautiful.” His voice is warm on your lips, “you’re so–”

His kiss is ridiculous; he kisses like he’s starving. You didn’t realise men could actually kiss like this until you met him. It’s not just in the movies, it’s right now, his hand at the back of your neck, unbothered by your laughing or your hand slipping down his wet t-shirt. 

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you say. 

“We were covered in mud.” 

“We should’ve just got naked.” 

“We’re taking things slow,” he says, laughing, “it’s fun. But what are we gonna do about our wet clothes?”

“You got the most of the mud on you,” you say. Spencer had performed a valiant rescue in that when you fell, he was straight down into the grass after you in an attempt to save your jeans. It didn’t work, obviously, but the thought was there, and he’s such a good kisser in the shower that you don’t mind the loss. “I’m gonna get out and get changed, you can have a real shower, okay? I’ll get you a towel and your pyjamas and stuff.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine. I think all the mud from my top half is gone.” 

Spencer takes your face into his hand. His thumb rubs a line along your jaw. “Now it’s gone.” 

You beam. Who knew Dr. Spencer Reid was such a tender guy? You could sort of guess from looking at him that he’d touch you like that, but it’s a contrast, too, to be kissed as though you’re some irresistible siren and to have your face held like fragile glass. 

You step out of the shower still sodden, clothes heavy, and close the frosted door between you and Spencer to strip down. Separated but still shy, you hurry out of your clothes and into a towel, wrapping yourself tightly to head into your bedroom. 

You put on blissfully dry underwear and blot your face. Next is loose pyjama pants and a big t-shirt: you’ve never worried about being sexy for Spencer and you’re not about to start. Your first date was a walk in the park, your second date at the bowling alley. He’s not concerned with that stuff. It’s why his frankness about wanting to take things slow isn’t scary, because when he holds your face and tells you you’re pretty, you believe it. 

“Y/N?” 

You flinch so hard your neck cracks. “Ow,” you whine. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You walk forward before Aaron can let himself into your bedroom. Sure enough, your older brother is in your apartment (as he’s allowed, given that he furnished the entire place and paid the security deposit, and, also, awfully, is a very nice big brother). He’s smiling, carrying two pizza boxes and a carton atop it that smells like French fries. “What have you done now?” he asks fondly. 

“I hurt my neck, you scared me.” 

“If you answered your phone, you’d know I was here.” 

“I was in the shower!” 

“I can see that. You’re getting slovenly, it’s almost midday.” 

You’re so genuinely happy to see him that you forget for a moment your predicament. “It’s the weekend, I can do what I want.” You’re gonna have to let him down, which won’t be easy. “I’m not feeling the best, actually.” 

Aaron lets the pizza boxes rest against his stomach. “How come?” 

“I don’t know, I just feel tired. Maybe we can do something tomorrow.” 

“Honey,” Aaron says, with all the cadence of someone who’s used to rubbing your back when you’re sick, “what’s wrong? Let’s go sit down, I can make you something less greasy.” 

“I think you should just go home, actually. I might be contagious.” 

He looks less concerned and more gutted. “What? I don’t care if you’re contagious. When has that stuff ever bothered me?” Aaron takes another step toward you, his gaze flitting past you toward your bathroom. “What’s really going on?” 

The age gap between you and Aaron is expansive. Your being adopted is another gap, and neither have ever bothered him. The moment you showed up in his life he gave you everything he could manage, which has manifested in long phone calls, in hugs, in homemade soup and delivery when he couldn’t be there. Asking him not to look after you is like telling him you don’t want him to, and it isn’t true. 

He means a lot more to you than whatever awkwardness your confession will inspire. 

“Aaron,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “Spencer’s in the shower.” 

He squeezes his pizza boxes. “Sorry?” 

“We went to the park and I fell by the lake. He’s in the shower.” 

“But you were just in the shower,” Aaron says. 

“Well, we weren’t in there at the same time,” you drag. 

Your lie is obvious to him, not just as a profiler but as your brother. His brow pinches and his nose wrinkles, not disgusted with you or anything so cruelly stupid, but dissatisfied, at least. “Did you have to tell me that?” he asks, pained.

“I didn’t tell you that, you profiled that, and it’s sort of not what you think anyways! We didn’t do anything–”

“Honey.” 

“I’m really sorry, but it’s not what you think.” 

“Listen to me.” The shower turns off and Aaron’s cheek twitches. “You are a grown up. You can do what you like with who you like. It’s my fault for coming here unannounced, I keep thinking of you as younger than you are.” Says the adult. Then, the more friendly part of being a sibling emerges, “Could you send him home?” he whispers. “I got your favourite.” 

You laugh at his proposition. “That’s kinda rude, isn’t it? Can’t he stay? He’s cool.” 

“I’m having trouble coalescing the two of you as more than acquaintances in my mind,” he says, as though he has much more to say about it, even if he’s smiling. 

Spencer chooses that moment to walk from the en-suite bathroom and out of your room, a t-shirt stuck to his chest with damp, his own pyjama pants baggy at the ankles.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer grabs your hand impulsively, twining his fingers in yours. Then he sees Aaron and does a double take. “Hotch?”

You give Aaron a sorry smile. “Does that make it easier?” 

“I’ll wait in the kitchen.” 

You and Spencer watch Aaron retreat. His hand stays in yours, but he squeezes you too tightly. “Wait for what?” Spencer whispers fervently. 

You lean up on tiptoes to kiss his eyebrow. “You’re about to get the shovel talk, I think.” 

“Oh. Great.” He drops his forehead against your shoulder, wet hair dripping a path down your shirt. “This is really bad.” 

“He brought pizza.” 

“I don’t think that’s going to help me.” 

You crane your head and kiss-kiss-kiss the top of his ear. “You’re really pretty when your hair is wet.” 

Spencer murmurs to you reluctantly. “You’re really pretty all the time.” 

[beasangel]

a very bad time p2

⤷ joel miller x fem!reader

💭 “You think it’s hope?” You shrug. “I don’t know what it is.”

Summary: You noticed the signs back at Bill and Frank’s - missed period, morning nausea. You told yourself you'd wait until you found Tommy, until you were somewhere safe. Until Joel was ready. Then Kansas City happened.

part one joel masterlist main masterlist

The silence after Kansas City hangs heavy.

It follows you like a second shadow, quiet and careful, just waiting for one of you to break it.

You hadn’t meant to say it. Not in the middle of a shootout. Not with your back pressed to a rusted-out car and Joel covered in blood. But fear had cracked you wide open, and the words had slipped out before you could stop them.

Joel’s reaction was instant. Unfiltered. The kind of knee-jerk panic you weren’t used to seeing from him.

But he hasn’t brought it up since.

Neither have you.

There have been nights, long, quiet ones where your ribs press into his under the blankets, where the fire dies too early and neither of you says a word, when you almost did. When his fingers brushed over your skin too gently for someone who hadn’t asked a single question about the possibility of a life growing between you.

But the words stayed in your mouth. Stuck. Swallowed down like ash.

You survived the ambush, but barely. Your body still aches from being thrown against the ground. The bruise on your shoulder blooms like ink, sharp and dark, another addition to the collection of marks you’ve gathered from trying to stay alive.

There are more immediate concerns: a place to sleep. The sharp echo of gunfire in your memory. Food supplies thinning. Joel’s shoulder, which he swears isn’t dislocated but still hasn’t moved quite right since.

So you hold it inside. Try not to count the days. Try not to notice the way your stomach swirls each morning, or the quiet weight that’s settled in your chest. Maybe it’s stress. Maybe it’s nothing.

But it isn’t. And it’s getting too loud to ignore.

You find the pharmacy by accident.

A sun-bleached skeleton of a building, wedged between a burned-out diner and a tire shop caved in on itself. The sign is half-gone. Inside, it’s cooler. Still. Dust floats through the air like pollen.

Most of the shelves are empty. Looted long ago. But your feet move through the aisles anyway, like muscle memory.

Joel takes the back. You crouch behind the counter, sleeve pulled over your hand to avoid the shards of glass glittering across the cabinet doors.

That’s when you see it.

Tucked behind a warped stack of cotton swabs. Slightly crushed, but unopened.

A pregnancy test.

You pause. Just for a second. Then you grab it, fast and clumsy, like someone might snatch it away if you hesitate.

Joel’s boots creak behind you.

You don’t have time to hide it.

“What’s that?” he asks.

You turn slowly. It’s in your hand, stupidly obvious, like a bomb with the timer counting down.

His eyes flick down to the box, then back to you.

“You said you weren’t sure.”

“I’m not,” you say too fast. Voice too tight.

Joel doesn’t nod the way he usually does when he doesn’t want to talk about something. Doesn’t shrug it off and shut the door on you. Instead, he says quietly, “You wanna take it?”

You open your mouth. Close it again. Your throat’s dry.

“I want to,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “But… until we find Tommy. Until we’re somewhere safe. I don’t think I should.”

He watches you for a moment. Then nods.

“Okay,” he says. “We’ll figure it out.”

Later, you’re tucked into the woods just off the highway. Ellie’s out cold, collapsed like a dropped coat. Joel sits by the fire, sharpening his knife with the kind of focus he only uses when he’s trying not to feel.

You settle beside him. Pull your coat tighter.

“So… you think we’re close to Tommy?” you ask softly.

Joel doesn’t look up. “I know.”

You hesitate. “I just- I want to be somewhere it’s okay to hope.”

He draws the blade down the whetstone. Once. Twice. Then pauses.

“You think it’s hope?”

You shrug. “I don’t know what it is.”

There’s a stretch of silence.

Then Joel says, voice quiet like it’s been untouched for years, “Sarah had this shirt. Blue. Covered in little butterflies. Got too small for her, but she wouldn’t stop wearing it. Said it made her feel like she could fly.”

You don’t speak. Just stare at the fire, the way the flames curl like hands.

“I kept it,” he says. “After. Couldn’t throw it away. Still had it when I met you.”

Your breath catches. He never talks about Sarah. Not like this.

“I haven’t been fair to you,” Joel says. “I’ve been… afraid. That nothing would ever matter after her. That nothing would be more than memory.”

You turn to look at him. Your heart hammers.

“But then you showed up,” he says. “Ran into me in the North Zone. Didn’t flinch when that clicker came at us. Shot it between the eyes. Called me old.”

You laugh, startled by the sound.

“You were limping,” you murmur. “I thought you needed backup.”

“I thought you were out of your damn mind.”

You smile. Eyes sting. “Maybe I was.”

He looks at you then. Really looks for the first time in days. His face is tired, lined, worn down from too many years of surviving. But there’s something steadier beneath it. Something warmer.

“I don’t know if it’s hope,” he says. “But if it’s you… it doesn’t feel like a mistake.”

Your throat tightens. The fire crackles.

“Still,” Joel adds, dry now, “if you ever tell me you might be pregnant in the middle of a gunfight again…”

You groan, covering your face. “Oh my god, can we not-”

“No, we have to talk about it,” he says, lips twitching. “That might’ve been the worst timing in human history.”

“I panicked!” you protest. “There was blood everywhere, I was panicking!”

“Even so. You couldn’t wait five more seconds?”

“I wasn’t thinking rationally! I just-” You hesitate. Your voice softens. “I didn’t want either of us to die without you knowing.”

Joel doesn’t smile. Doesn’t tease. His whole expression shifts, gentles.

“You’re not dying,” he says. “Not on me. Not like that.”

Your chest twists.

“Okay,” you whisper.

He reaches over. Brings his hand to yours. Callused and warm. Steady.

“We’ll figure it out,” Joel says. “Together.”

And for the first time since Kansas City, you believe him.

Your voice barely makes it past your lips. “Joel…”

“Hmm?”

You rest your forehead against his shoulder.

“It was positive.”

He freezes.

Then slowly, without a word, he wraps his arms around you. Holds you to his chest like something fragile and beloved. Like he’s not letting go.

You close your eyes and let yourself feel it.

Just for a minute.

Hope.

[at-this-point-i-dont-even-know]

could you write about Robby’s gf/fiance coming into the ER and the residents don’t know they’re dating but they’re blown away by how beautiful/kind she is 🙏🙏

Pairing: Dr Michael 'Robby" Rabinovitch x younger! Langdon's little sister! reader

The sun was shining in Pittsburgh today and the last thing you felt like doing was going to work and dealing with emails and co-workers and the general panic of having a job that your body thinks is a war zone but really it's just not calling Brenda from Marketing a ‘dickhead’. So after a couple of fake coughs down the phone and a promise to check your emails as the day progresses you earn yourself a ‘snow’ day.

But it wasn’t so much fun having a day off in the middle of the week when your boyfriend was at work, and by the messages coming through it was a hectic day filled with unhelpful meetings with admin and too many beds filled with people that should be elsewhere.

So as the sun beats down on the city, you slip on shorts and your favourite shirt, a slightly small tank top from a long closed Irish bar and head into the hospital via the local donut shop.

The donut shop was your boyfriend's favourite new spot, he was always finding an excuse to swing by there almost daily for a pistachio creme for himself and a simple cinnamon glaze for you. So with your hands now filled with most of the shop you wandered the four blocks from your apartment to the hospital, smiling at the admin desk before gesturing with more your shoulders then hands for Dana’s attention.

No one really knew you at the Hospital, which was fine, both you and he kept your work lives pretty separate after an almost disastrous Christmas party at your work, where someone compared your job to his as the same high stakes. You had almost thrown your wine in your colleagues face, and your boyfriend had tried to defend your work before you laughed at the absurdity of it all.

It also didn’t help that your brother worked with your boyfriend and that made life always a little more challenging.

The charge nurse Dana ran to the door and helped you with the boxes, laughing as she glanced down at the absurd amount of sugar.

“What do we owe for this wonderful surprise?” She asked as you both made your way to the staff room.

“I took a sick day and thought I would give everyone a little treat.”

“Everyone or just-”

“There may be one or two pistachio creme’s in there for him, but really it's for everyone.”

Dana had been there when life had gotten a little too hard about a year ago and you had had to put everything on hold to help your big brother, Frank. Everyone at this hospital had been so kind and helpful as you managed work, your niece and nephew and then a love life. No one more than your boyfriend.

“You are a sight for sore eyes!” A familiar voice said as they almost fell through the break room doors, Frank was all limbs as he pulled you into a hug. He was clean for 13 months now, and was back at work under strict watch of his seniors but he was good, healthy and back to his normal over the top ways.

“If my work calls you, I’m terribly ill and may never recover.” you joke.

“Deathbed and all that?”

“It's sad and I want roses and frangipanis on my coffin.”

“Frangipanis?”

“I don't know they’re pretty.”

You both bantered, his arm around your shoulder as people started milling into the room, no matter the workplace, free food was a beacon to all.

Frank wandered off, his attention span failing him again as he went to talk to another doctor while you looked around. With your overly comfortable clothing you stood out like a sore thumb compared to the staff in scrubs.

You settle closer to the door about to make your leave in the way you loved, without a goodbye. Your boyfriend was obviously busy but Dana had hidden his treats away so you knew it was time to go and enjoy the rest of the sun filled day.

As you gathered your bag you heard the whispers.

“Who is she?”

“I saw her with Langdon? Maybe his new girlfriend?”

“Nah, I think they are related.”

“Seriously?”

“Same nose?” Which made you immediately grab your nose to check it was nothing like your brothers.

“Why else would she bring him donuts?”

“I thought he was not dating at the moment?”

“Plus she is way too nice for him!”

“And too pretty!”

“Dana knew her, maybe she's her friend?”

“Her daughter?”

“Don’t let Dana hear you say that!”

“Does Princess know?”

“Nope, just told us to mind our own business and eat the treats.”

“If there are no pistachio cremes left I will be very disappointed.” a gruff voice whispered into your ear sending a shiver down your spine as you smiled broadly.

“You’ll have to check with Dana, she is in charge.” You smile turning to the tall figure who had just entered.

All the whispering stopped as broad hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you close.

“I thought I was in charge.”

You smile against his lips as he kisses you deeply. His fingers almost bruise against your skin, as your shirt rides up and you lean further into the kiss, standing now on your tiptoes as you kiss him back.

“We let you think that, Dr Michael Rabinovitch.” you whisper to him as cat calls are heard around the room.

You can’t help but grin brighter as his beard bristles against your neck as he hides his face. You knew he had forgotten where he was the moment he saw you in the tiny shorts and tank top and you knew his colleagues would not let him forget it anytime soon.

“Get your hands off my sister!” Frank yelled before throwing his napkin at Robbys head.

[mountaesan]

boynextdoor when their s/o is on their period

pairing. ot6 x afab!reader warnings. period mention , therefore reader has a uterus but other than that no other terms are used to specify gender , period cramps & cravings mentions , jaehyun has women in his life ? , and woonhak is a feminist ( LMAO PLS DON’T TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY IT’S A JOKE ) notes. gave up on my constipated leehan x constipated reader fic and decided to write this banger on a whim more under the cut !

sungho : 

he 100% tracks your cycle with you. if you don’t have him added to your tracking app, he has his own where he makes note of your different symptoms (safe to say you were deeply impressed and got emotional when you found out). also does a lot of research about menstruation and your cycle. he wants to know everything there is to know so that he can be there for you throughout all four phases of your cycle. genuinely becomes concerned sometimes when you’re doubled over in pain and you can’t get out of bed. sungho also has a tendency to stock up on hot packs/water bottles because he absolutely hates to see the love of his life struggling. always willing to wrap you up in his arms 

riwoo : 

says ‘miss bitch is back’ when you’re on your period. yes, he has nicknamed your period ‘miss bitch’ (mostly because it’s a bitch to you whenever it’s that time of the month). let’s you do anything and everything you want to do. if you feel like going to the nearest convenience store at 2 in the morning because you want to eat three bowls of buldak, he’s right behind you. if you feel like crying while watching ‘The Notebook’ for the thousandth time, he’s holding the box of tissues for you. to be frank, he enjoys it when you’re on your period (not when you’re in pain ofc) because that means he can bring home the gazillion different desserts he’s been meaning to try. the two of you have a taste testing on the bed, taking bites from different tarts, cakes, donuts (duh), and other sweets to your silly little hearts’ content. 

myung jaehyun : 

gets upset that you have to be in pain for a week every month. curses the menstruation gods and begs for the pain to be transferred to him (half joking, half serious). so, to prove his solidarity, he bought one of those period cramp simulators and tried it on himself. afterwards, he apologized to every single woman in his life. twice. he likes to cuddle up with you and pretend to punch your abdomen, saying he’s fighting the period cramps for your honor. it’s silly but you’re too tired to say anything. will immediately fix up any absurd cravings you have because if his baby is craving bacon and chocolate, his baby will be eating bacon and chocolate! 

taesan : 

he can recognize your period before you do, without the help of a tracking app (sungho is seething with jealousy). you’re impressed, but taesan doesn’t think much of it; he just notices the slight changes in your diet and attitude, and acts accordingly. wordlessly stocks up on snacks and junk food a couple days prior. once it’s leak week, taesan refuses to let you do anything. you’re basically in bed arrest. if he catches you waddling out of the bedroom with the hot water bottle pressed to your abdomen, he’s ushering you right back to bed. likes to push your hair back and kiss you on the forehead. it’s weird and random, but it’s something he only does when you’re on your period. otherwise, he’s back to usual kissing regimen. 

leehan : 

clueless #1. he doesn’t know much about periods or menstruation cycles so he does his best to research on it. he does know a thing or two about mood swings though, so if you’re ever in a mood, he just lets himself be yelled at until you’re feeling better. afterwards, he’ll give you a kiss and swaddle you with blankets to help you unwind and relax. you noticed that leehan liked to be the little spoon when you were on your period, which is weird because he usually likes spooning you. turns out, he liked the warmth of your hot water bottle and used cuddling as an excuse to warm himself up. likes to cozy up with you in bed and do netflix marathons, re-watching all your favorite rom-coms and tv shows. 

woonhak : 

clueless #2. woonhak cried the first time you cried when you were on your period. you weren’t even crying because of him, you were crying because you remembered cheesepuff, your pet hamster from the third grade, was dead. regardless, he was freaking out! researches and asks around a lot, especially his hyungs, about periods and what he can do to help. steals sweets from riwoo, hot packs from taesan, and uses leehan’s netflix account. oh he also stole borrowed jaehyun’s period cramp simulator and almost cried a second time that week. becomes a feminist whenever you’re on your period and whips out his copies of Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, and The Awakening to prove that he stands with you. ig it’s the thought that counts ?

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[wintertime-in-june]

Reverse Arranged Marriage

Colonel!König x Recruit!Reader

The Colonel.

Your Colonel.

König.

You looked at him, twisting a strand of hair around your finger, big eyes shining adorably up at him, hanging on his every word...

So you can imagine the shattering feeling you felt when he arrived back to the base after a short sabbatical back home in Austria with a woman at his side.

His fiancé.

König has no experience when it comes to women. No previous relationships, no dates, not even an attempt at obtaining one... and his parents to be quite frank were worried.

Their little boy... their not so little boy... turning 30 and not so much as an interaction with a women to their knowledge.

When he had returned to Austria for his birthday, they decided to surprise him. Waiting back home was a woman, Katharina, 'a good Austrian woman' his mother had described her as.

König, well, he didn't say anything. His parents took this as a good sign. They had everything already arranged, the two of them would stay in KorTac military housing, Katharina would work as a nurse at the local hospital and they would return to Austria for the wedding in June.

Katharina was nice enough, there was nothing explicitly wrong with her... but König felt nothing. He didn't even try to feel anything. He didn't kiss her, he didn't hug her, he didn't even speak to her.

Since their meeting they simply just walked together, around his parent's house in Austria, through the airport and now through their house on base.

It didn't take long for König to move his things over, he wasn't a very materialistic person, he helped Katharina unload her boxes from the lorry, still, wordlessly.

That's when she heard it for the first time. You.

"Colonel, do you need help with that?"

And it just progressed from there, like a high pitched drone in her ears, annoying, inescapable.

"Colonel please help me with..."

"Colonel can I show you..."

"Colonel do you want to maybe..."

"Colonel this..."

"Colonel that..."

She was sick of it, and she was sick of you.

How come he would pay attention to you? You were just some dumb little recruit, she was his fiancé and he didn't even give her a word most days.

He didn't even take that stupid mask off in front of her, but he lifted it up for you to kiss the grazes on your knees, the tiniest scratches on your arms, even a frickin' paper cut. He couldn't have his little recruit get hurt in his training sessions and not kiss it better!

They slept in their bed, on opposite sides, untouching, rigid, mask on. But if you had a nightmare, he was there in an instant, tucking you up tight in your covers only to stay and hold you when you said...

"Please, Colonel, I'm scared..."

The final straw was when you had come round to their house one evening, uninvited, to give them some Topfenstrudel you'd baked... because you just so happened you made too much... yeah right.

She didn't buy it, not for a second, you just so happened to make too much of this dessert, an Austrian dessert, an Austrian dessert that just so happened to be the Colonel's favourite.

She was seething with she had one and it was... well, delicious.

As the Colonel showered you with praises, saying what a good young lady you were, how you'd make a man very happy one day, how you know the way to people's hearts. She glared daggers into your very soul, a glare that you answered with a sweet, innocent smile.

I mean who comes round, uninvited, in their little silky pyjamas, acting all innocent and cute, she could see right through you... but the Colonel couldn't.

"It was lovely chatting with you two, see you at training tomorrow Colonel!"

And with that the door shut and you walked with a skip in your step back to the recruit's barracks.

If you hadn't been so all consumed in your own little world you just might have heard the arguing that ensured as soon as you had left...

That next morning the Colonel came in with a smile under his mask, not that you'd have known, he placed a firm hand on your shoulder, looking down. After a pause, he eventually spoke.

"Katharina had to go back to Austria."

"Oh, how come?" you say feigning worry, as though your heart didn't skip a beat.

"It seems we were not a good fit for each other."

You hold back a smile, instead putting on a look of concern. "Aw that's such a shame! I hope she finds who she's looking for."

He chuckles at your sweetness, you were always thinking of other people in his eyes.

"I'm sure she will." He said with a little sigh.

"You know, I was thinking, I still have the military housing until the end of the season, how about you come over and show me how to make that Topfenstrudel, ja?"

You smile up at him, nodding profusely.

"For sure! It'll be cool me teaching you for once." You giggle.

The Colonel may not have a fiancé but he was more than fine with that...

Besides, perhaps his parents wouldn't need to cancel the wedding plans set for June...

[kisses4themissus]

Girl Scout Cookies | M.R Blurb

lovebug series | send me your lovebug thoughts!

- - - - - - - -

Tiny footsteps was hidden under the hustle of the ED department, lacey sighed as she walked through the hospital’s ambulance bay, jake right behind her, carrying a backpack.

Jake smiled as he approached central to see dana with her arms open for a hug.

“Oh there’s a dangerous pair!” Dana teased, embracing jake in a hug before moving ot hug lacey who smiled and quickly reciprocated the hug.

“Is robby expecting you? What are you two doing down here?” Dana asked, looking at the playful smile on jake, “Lace had me help her drive around the neighborhoods nearby-!” Jake was cut off by lacey who was now standing straight, opening her coat to show her girl scout sash, her dance leotard underneath.

“I’ve been getting people to buy lots of my cookies aunty dana!” She beamed, quickly walking to the inside of the station and rolled her shoulders back. “I’ll show you!” Lacey looked around for someone, her little eyes switching from residents to patients then to the security before landing on langdon who sat at a desk, scrolling on his phone.

With a straight face lacey marched over and tapped frank on his leg to get his attention; as he went to greet the dancer he was stopped as she gently raised her hand and spoke. 

“Hello there i’m lacey, let me introduce myself, I am almost six years old, i am a ballerina and a soccer player in the off season, i’m also a girl scout and i hope to raise money for my troop, would you like to buy a box of cookies from me–!” Lacey’s eyes narrowed as she read frank’s badge before nodding. “Would you like to buy a box of cookies from me, Dr. langdon?” She asked, watching as a grin grew on frank’s face.

“You seem like a trefoils kind of guy..” Lacey added.

He sighed and placed his hands on his knees. “I don’t got any cash on me, ms lacey..” He played along, lacey just smiled and motioned for tablet in jake’s off hand. “I have venmo, paypal and accept tap to pay.”

Langdon let out a hearty laugh before nodding, pulling up his apple pay on his phone and motioned for lacey and her tablet. “Alright, you got those trefoils for me?” He asked, lacey beamed and began to list of the cookies in stock.

Robby sighed as he walked out of the trauma room, his brows furrowed as he saw a small crowd around central, he walked up worried a nurse had been hit by a patient but sigh in relief as he saw a mini line with lacey at the front, holding her tablet up as donahue tapped his card on the square reader lacey had attached to her pink tablet.

He walked over and smiled down at lacey who was not looking up as she tapped on her tablet. “No cutting the line please, i have lots of cookies for everyone..” She spoke, not herding as jake began to snicker as robby stared at lacey.

“I’m sorry miss but I don’t believe you have permission to be selling in my ED department..” Robby crossed his arms over his chest, watching as lacey looked up at her dad with a straight face and nodded.

“I have permission!” She defended. Making robby smile at her antics. “Oh you do, do you have proof?” He asked, thankful the ED hadn’t been busy at the moment. “Mhm!” She shrugged off her coat and pointed to the top of her sash where her full name was embroidered.

Lacey Robinavitch

“My daddy is the day attending sir!” She sassed, earning a laugh from robby, he quickly picked her up and motioned for his staff to break up the line. Robby carried her towards jake and grabbed her tablet to scroll through her sales.

“...where have you taken her?” Robby asked jake, a bit shocked at the amount she had made. 

“Just a few neighborhoods and only a few people answered, she’s mostly a big sell out here.” Jake explained smiling as lacey had been up to five hundred dollars already, the top of her troop by a lot.

“She’s hitting up the ICU waiting room next..” Jake joked, looking as lacey counted her own crumbled dollars she had in there from chores.

Handing to jake she grabbed a box from her backpack and walked to earl who sat by central, eating his sandwich. “Here you go mister, on the house!” She smiled before walking away, waving as earl thanked her.

“Alright, alright go up to your mom before gloria finds out i’ve got a cookie dealer down here..” Robby smiled as jake and lacey walked to the elevators to the ICU.

Mel sighed as she ran up to central, santos and whitaker behind her. “Is she here still?” Mel asked, looking around for lacey. Robby chuckled and shook his head and pointed upstairs. 

“We’ll be back!” Santos told robby, as he went to protest collins shushed him, following the interns. “You just had to make her leave the floor!” Collins sighed before moving to the elevators leaving robby laughing as he looked over the ED to see some patients and residents with girl scout cookies.

Later that day, robby watched you counted the last of cash lacey had accepted that day.

“Including card, she’s made eight hundred and sixty dollars…i think she’s gonna be a businesswoman micheal..” You said in disbelief at the amount of money. 

“She was a hit in the pitt today..” He sighed, a grin on his face.

“...she’s like scarily good robby, i’m not joking she sold three boxes to gloria, saying how she knew what kind of woman she was and pulled out three kinds of cookies!” You laughed, shaking your head as you sipped your wine.

“She wasn’t a s’mores kind of lady..” Lacey sighed, walking into the kitchen, her princess pajamas, a capri sun in her hand. Robby nodded and helped her on a chair and cheersed his water bottle with her juice pouch.

Lacey sat with you and robby as you three talked over your day, sipping on your drinks in peace as if you three were older friends who were now catching up.

[saturngas]

never leave me

[🪐] gojo has a very realistic dream about you leaving him and he goes insane

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

genre: angsty with confort <3

warnings: established relationship; there is a lot of angst; but also a lot of confort; fluff; insecure!gojo; clingy!gojo; a bit possessive!gojo; again me breaking down gojo's character bc im tired of the mischaracterization (hope im not doing it or ill kms); not thoroughly beta-read but ill do it asap;

word count: 3.1k

..

it felt real. way too real.

the setting was gloomy, as the clouds concealed thoroughly the warm sun rays, making the environment appear more grayish as it was unusual for the hot summer season that enveloped the vivid city of tokyo. you and satoru were walking down the streets, making time before the sumida river fireworks festival that was held late in July. however it was still the middle of June. was this timing correct?

you were wearing the newest sundress satoru had proudly bought you with the biggest grin. you looked great in it, certainly making satoru blush each time he glanced down at you. but wait, wasn't the sundress white? why is it all of the sudden a cooler shade of blue?

the ice cream you were holding changed to a box, which was immediately recognized by satoru. it was the jewelry box that contained the most precious purchase he had recently made: the engagement ring you weren't supposed to see—or even know the existence of—. satoru is still thinking about the perfect place and time to ask you the question he considered the most important of all his life.

his blue eyes were too focused on the ring box that he completely missed your words. as he shifted his gaze on you to listen carefully, he still couldn't make out your words. your voice pitch was totally off.

and as he blinked, now you were standing in front of him at least ten meters away. your whole frame in sight. you no longer wore the color-changing sundress. dark ambivalent shades decorated your figure, being unable to even determine your legs and arms. your face being the only clear piece of you.

satoru panicked. the cold sweat he felt running down his neck and arms felt too real. he knew the view in front of him could be—to one point—false; however his feelings were genuine.

one of his arms reached out to you, as if to grab your form, only for you to grow further. but as if there were amplifiers all around his head, your voice buzzed through his external auditory canal, stimulating his eighth cranial nerve.

"i dont want to be with you."

"you always act like a child, ive been putting up with you for years. im tired now."

"ive found someone else. someone who has time for me and our relationship."

"this isn't exactly your fault. you can't control being the strongest and everyone needing you. but can't you see I need you too?"

"you leave me alone too much."

"are you seriously planning to marry me? you dont even have time for me as a boyfriend and you want to be my husband?"

"haven't you noticed im slowly drifting away? I dont want this anymore."

"im tired of your nonexistent time for me."

"im tired of this relationship."

"im tired of you."

it was your voice declaring all those statements. but satoru knew where they were coming from. the island full of insecurities that was deep in the back of his consciousness was expressing the most oppressed feelings he had. his easy going facade did an excellent job concealing his self-doubt in real life, making difficult for someone to accept the fact the strongest sorcerer had insecurities.

even so, he was a natural emotionally-closed person. the long months of attempting to open up to you at the beginning of your relationship were very difficult to him. even with his former best friend, suguru geto, satoru wasn't completely frank.

he knew he was a good boyfriend, at least acceptable, to you. once he bestowed his heart to you, he was yours, giving you his all.

still he felt insufficient.

the time dedicated to your relationship took a sharp turned when he started attending his obligations as the strongest sorcerer. he wanted to give you more of his honored time. he wanted to be fully devoted to you. however his status in the sorcery society fell in between you two.

satoru was afraid one day you would finally snap, disregarding completely of your relationship with him.

your voice materialized in front of him in the form of your figure again, your limps now distinguished. he couldn't exactly make out your expression as it was drawn between sorrow, tiredness, and frustration. your hand spanned toward him, handing him the ring box you were still holding.

"I won't," was all you said as you turned away, no other words following your unmoving lips. it was the answer for a question satoru had been picturing himself asking you: will you marry me?.

he only caught a glimpse of your face, emotions unchanged, until you departed. your hair was the last thing he identified as literal darkness danced around you, metaphorical darkness invading his heart and soul.

the setting was back to the bleak tokyo. the pitch black sky lacked its most trusted companions: the stars, as the new moon was merged within the loneliness of the murky sky. faceless pedestrians walked mindlessly around the lone tall man while others stared at the sky where the fireworks were being displayed, though their bright colors were absent and the blast was silent.

the innate technique limitless has always been a wall between satoru gojo and the rest of the world. even when he mastered it as a teen to be able to use it automatically instead of manually, satoru has been isolating himself. sometimes deliberately, other times unconsciously.

he knows what his dream means. he knows he is afraid of losing you, the person he loves the most. after witnessing at first instance the departure of what used to be his best friend into immorality and radical idealisms, going through a bitter break up of his friendship, satoru realizes he fears you would do the same.

as blackness coats what he thinks is his range of vision and light passes through the slim skin of his eyelids, satoru regains consciousness. his body feels cramped, as if he would have fought a special grade curse without stretching his limbs first. his neck is sore from the awkward position he is in.

the tall man´s strong body is facing the wall, placed in a fetal position, almost hugging himself. his high cheekbones feel wet. the soft touch of his lifted hand confirms he had cried during his dream—actually, nightmare.

the visions of his nightmare still present in his mindfulness, recreations of the pictures he saw—lived—so vividly in the dream play at the back of his mind whenever he tries to close his sensitive eyes. then he realizes.

you.

where is she? is she still with me? she hasn't gone to any place? she didn't leave? anxiety and panic rush through his body as he hastily turns to face the other side of the marital bed.

oh.

you are still there, stirring slightly at the sudden wave movements satoru caused. you are still sound sleep, your chest meeting the soft mattress below you, arms spangled plastered on the pillow you were pleasantly drooling over.

satoru feels his heartbeat decrease to a normal rate, his lungs no longer burning with the sensation of a upcoming panic attack. was he seriously going to have a panic attack over thinking you would leave him? yes. ten thousand yes.

even when he has you, his students, and his coworkers who sometimes seem to not be entirely fond of the tall man, satoru still feels alone. alone in this world of sorcery. he is in another level even as a living organism. no other human being and sorcerer can compare to him. not right now when he thinks he isn't over discovering more of his honorable traits.

but he is over that strength moral compass his best friend had doubted some years ago. he got over it when he met you. satoru was convinced he was satoru gojo because he was the strongest. but you proved him wrong when you started loving him for being just satoru gojo, not for being the strongest sorcerer of the modern era, the head of the gojo clan, or the supreme entity he was supposed to reach. you love him for the person he is, his personality, and his heart.

he knew that, right?

maybe he needed a bit of assurance.

strong arms envelop around your smaller form, your boyfriend getting on top of you without crushing you. soft lips dance around your ear and neck, tickling you to awareness.

your gentle giggles and whimpers fill satoru's brain of serotonin, a big toothy grin flashing his pretty face.

"good morning, my queen."

you stir in your place as you try to pull the over 180-pound weight off you. however, satoru clings his arms around you even more, his hands going to your mid area, grabbing your waist and pulling you to him. you are on your side with your back brushing his hard chest.

"don't leave my arms, please," he shares in one single exhale, his breath caressing your neck. you just know there is a lot more behind those words. you have learned to read your boyfriend like a book.

still, you don't want to disturb him. you know his book doesn't like being forcefully opened, because his pages are stuck to each other and are difficult to separate. you let him absorb your presence and wait patiently for him to uncover his feelings to you.

it has been out of routine, actually—the way satoru has been acting around you and only you lately.

if you have to word it out, it would be clingy, clingier, clingier than ever, though you have caught him acting his usual same with his students and coworkers. not once wanting to leave your presence, almost as his atoms would undergo unconventional transformations if he isn't breathing the same air within your range.

you were buying groceries and your boyfriend decided to tag along. of course you didn't mind, but it definitely took you out since it wasn't his day off and he had an appointment to train his students. satoru completely disregarded of said students which was such very strange situation since he loved them. guess he loves me more? you questioned. he couldn't keep his hands off you, almost as if you were to run away at any given chance. your boyfriend was usually handsy, but it surprised you when you passed through the candy hall that satoru's touch on you didn't even budge. he would usually go running and pick his favorite sweet provisions.

when you were called to a meeting, satoru followed you. it was shocking seeing satoru gojo—the progressive sorcerer who hated the higher ups—in such meeting. but it was to be with you, holding your arm tightly as his mind drifted away in other thoughts, not hearing a single word of the meeting. his ears would only spiked at the sound of your voice or the call of your name, listening in for a few second to make sure those old geezers were respecting your living form.

satoru would ask vigorously to be of company during your missions. you thought it was cute. maybe he wants to make up for the wasted time, you would assume. and you were partially right, considering that satoru also did it to protect you with his mere presence—it being his innate technique wrapping around you, or his strong cursed energy forcing the curses to escape and hide pitifully.

satoru's existence has been constant around you lately: not leaving you unattended for more than five minutes when going out, going everywhere with you along him, always having an arm securely attached to your waist or shoulders, his limitless isolating you from the world. it was almost becoming overwhelming to say the least. you loved satoru with all your life and the remaining lives left for you, but his persistent company was a bit too much.

you knew this wasn't some jealousy attack he had, proving everyone his possession over you. no, that wasn't characteristic of the man. perhaps satoru was having some resentment over leaving you alone so much? or perhaps he was having a fit of insecurities? it didn't happen often, but it had happened before.

a mush of white hair adorns your chest as you two are plastered on you shared bed, watching a reality show about a family of overly successful women. well, it is actually just you watching, since your boyfriend has his sensitive eyes closed. one of your hands underneath his shirt and the other is caressing his scalp at such low pace, satoru was almost drifting to sleep. your fingers are tangled in his mess of hair. your boyfriend has his arms wrapped around your tightly, as well as his long legs.

he isn't focused on the tv show, his mind picturing you leaving him, making his heart race abruptly and his breathing catch in his throat. his traitorous head has been torturing him over and over for the past three weeks. after that super realistic dream, no, nightmare, satoru has been anything but calm. anxiety plotting against him, making him believe the longer you are alone—without him—the more chances of you living him.

"oh my, I can't believe they didn't invite her ex-boyfriend to their family reunion. he is the father of the baby anyway!" you exclaim as the tv screen turns black showing the end credits, a rectangular button displaying at the right lower corner to go to the next episode. you moved your hand off your boyfriend's head to grab the remote. you immediately hear a low mumble coming from him.

"sorry, baby what did you say?" your eyes scan his face as you question him. the unmistakable pout and frown on his face goes noticed by you. "what's going on, toru?" you ask as softly as possible, both hands now grabbing his soft cheeks, making him look at you.

a groan now escapes from his lips as he moves his neck to position his chin on your sternum, facing you. satoru opens his eyes, bloodshot and glassy.

"satoru, are you okay my love?" tenderness paints your voice as you speak, a delicate finger whisking off the small eye crust on his left eye. "where you crying? is there something you want to tell me?" you try as hard as possible to linger the softness in your voice.

the sorcerer says your name in a whisper, suddenly feeling smaller under your constant gaze, eyes minding his surroundings. his blue orbs return again to you after a few seconds of thinking his response. "i... had a nightmare," you stay quiet to let him continue. "im sorry for not telling you earlier and acting so... irritating over the past weeks."

satoru sounds genuinely troubled, as in asking for forgiveness after committing the most atrocious crime of all time. your hands on his cheeks hold him tighter to bring his face close to yours, brushing your lips with his in a chaste but loving kiss.

"you dont have to apologize for that, toru," your lips graze his as you speak. "I just want to know why, if you want to, of course." you propose sheepishly, you still dont want to push him.

his concerned blue eyes look away once more, finding the correct words. "i... dreamed about you leaving me, after saying things that... were hurtful..." satoru actually sounded distressed and devastated. you immediately dismiss this as one of his tricks to be clingier to you and make you baby him. he is slowly opening up.

"we were in a festival and then everything went pitch black as you told me I wasn't good enough to be your boyfriend," he continues, his arms losing a bit of their grip on you. "I actually felt... anxious, and stressed about you actually leaving, so I guess I made myself... believe that if im with you all the time you wouldn't think that."

"think what satoru?"

"well..." the tall man is a bit uncomfortable, not because he was with you, but because he was opening his locked heart. "you said you were tired of me leaving you alone so much, that you were seeking someone else—someone better. you said you were tired of our relationship..." his gloomy voice saddens your ears. "you said you didn't even want to marr—" satoru cuts his words before completing his sentence. it comes out as a mumble so you luckily dont hear it.

"oh my big baby..." you sing as you hug him with all your mighty force. satoru almost feels his bones crackling at your demonstration of love. he then realizes he doesn't need to say more. you have understood him. the thing he craved the most.

he didn't need someone to match his strength, he was happy living as the strongest, he was proud of the title, sometimes even filling up his overly boosted ego. but he wanted—needed—someone to understand him, his feelings, his emotions, his position. he learns you dont need to be as strong as him, as powerful as him, as inhuman as him, to understand him, since your mere and pure love for him is sufficient to empathize with him.

satoru is lucky to have you, he knows that. he can be all of him to you—the strongest, satoru gojo, the head of the gojo clan, the beholder of the legendary six eyes and limitless, gojo-sensei. he can be all of himself to you or even a portion of him. and you would still receive him with open arms and a loving heart.

even when it took him almost three weeks to open up, you still waited and listened to him. you understood that he wanted more physical assurance than verbal assurance, your big bear hug becoming more meaningful than the thousand words you could have told him.

satoru comprehends he loves you just as much when he realizes and comes to his senses that he does not want to leave you and he fears the idea of you leaving him. he suffered lost once with his best friend, he got through it, but he doesn't believe he will be able to do it again if this time it is you who drifts away.

if it were up to him, you would be with him covered up in his limitless technique, isolating you both from the word. but he can't be that selfish and insecure about your commitment and devotion to him.

satoru then realizes his choice of marrying you is the correct one. as your long hug continues, your hands caressing his back and his rubbing your sides, satoru thinks of the pretty ring sitting in the box of his sorcery uniform, ready to be pulled out and worn by your pretty finger.

taglist: @snwvie @fanficsforkicks

[maxxiemoa]

~Rodrick x babysitter fic~

An: This story has been in my drafts for a little while. I love my dorky emo boyfriend Rodrick <3

Summary: Susan Heffley knew you from the neighborhood and thought you were a responsible enough girl to watch manny for the evening. What you didn’t really grasp was that she was really asking you to watch all her sons while Frank and her went on a much needed night out.

I arrive 5 minutes early to the Hefley’s house. I rang the doorbell and was quickly met with a cheerful greeting from a younger brunette haired boy.

“Im Greg you must be y/n” says the young boy. Hes sweet but I can tell hes a bit awkward socially. I nod and introduce myself, “yeah I’m y/n I’m babysitting your little brother tonight. Is your friend here…erm Rowley? Right? Your mom said you two would be having a sleepover tonight.

“Yeah he should be here any second” Greg says moving out of the way for me to come into the house.

“Oh! Great you are here early!” Susan walks over to me quickly and in her arms is who I am assuming is Manny.

Manny waves at me and does grabby hands at me. I offer to take him from Susan and she happily hands him over to me. “I’m y/n and you must be Manny.” I smile at him sweetly and hold him close to me. God he is adorable. Oh how I wish I had a little sibling to carry around.

“RODRICK!” I jump a bit at Franks sudden yelling. I turn around to the sound of quick footsteps coming down the stairs. Down comes a boy who I vaguely remember from somewhere.

Susan points at her eldest son and says “this is Rodrick he goes to the same school as you.” I remember where I’ve seen him before, he is in my 3rd period English class….hes a bit of a…dumb dumb.

Rodrick looks me up and down and then runs back upstairs nearly tripping on his way up.

Frank nears the door and grabs the keys. “If he does anything stupid just ignore him. Hes in a rockstar phase right now” I giggled at his comment and so does Greg.

The two of them leave and I am now the adult in the house. “So Greg what are you and Rowley going to do tonight? Movies? Video games? Make a fort?” I ask curiously.

“We were probably going to watch a movie in my room and play some board games” he says. I nod my head and tell him that sounds nice. “I can make you two some cookies or brownies if you’d like. And I can order a pizza for dinner” I offer. Greg’s eyes light up immediately and he hugs my side tightly and says thank you.

About 20 minutes into the night manny and I are at the table coloring when Rodrick comes into the kitchen. “Sup” he says in a forced deep voice as he leans against the table.

I look him up and down much like he did when I first came over. He has changed his clothes and is now wearing….eyeliner? He runs his fingers through his hair and makes it even messier than it was mear seconds ago.

“Did you come down to join in on the coloring?” I motion towards the coloring books and crayons laid out on the table. “Umm..no…I..I came down for..umm….DRINK…a drink.” He says nervously. He walks over to the fridge and pulls some stuff out. He walks back over to Manny and I and sets a juice box in-front of Manny and three different drinks in-front of me. “Pepsi, juice, or water? Or uhh I think we have milk too…” I smile at his kind gesture and pull the Pepsi close to me. “Thanks….ummm do you remember me from class?” I ask while I take a sip of my drink.

Rodrick sits down next to me and takes the straw off of Manny’s juice box and pokes it into the little hole at the top sliding it back over for Manny to have.

“English class, right?” He says to me fooling around with the bottle of water he’s holding.

“Yeah, English class. The teacher doesn’t really like you does he? Can’t really blame him I guess. You are never paying attention and it really shows when he asks you a question about what we are reading”

“Well maybe if pay attention if the stuff we were reading wasn’t so damn boring” he says kind of slamming his hands on the table as a sort of attempt at making a point

I laugh a little at how serious he seems about hating English class “Don’t you have better things to hate? Like I don’t know…the government or like poverty? What is it your punk band stands for?”

“I don’t know if I’d really call is punk. We are more of a chaotic unlabeled band” he says pulling his hands through his hair again.

“The hair and eyeliner kind of makes it seem like you are in an Emo band” I lean over and brush my hands through his hair. “Not that I want to admit it and float your ego but I do like the eyeliner”

Rodrick just sits there tensed up as I play with his hair. I will be the first to admit that I have a think for alternative looking boys like Rodrick but I’m babysitting and as cute as he is I should not be flirting with him. I have a job to do and I like this family.

“I never feel like I can do it exactly the way I imagine it looking in my head…..the eyeliner I mean.” Rodrick says in a soft voice looking me in the eyes. His brown puppy like eyes are looking right at me and they are melting my mind.

“I could help you with your eyeliner if you’d like” I brush my thumb across his cheekbone.

Rodrick brings me upstairs to his room after I put manny in his little play pen infront of the tv. His room is dim and there are clothes scattered around the floor. Surprisingly there isn’t any trash making his room messy. Just his stuff.

“Here” Rodrick hands me an eyeliner pencil and I sit on the bed next to him

“Close your eyes and try not to wiggle too much ok” I gently hold his face and paint the eyeliner on his eyes as neat as I can. “How do you like?” I ask him pointing to the little mirror in his room.

“Wow, it looks way less messy than when I do it” he comes back over to where I am sitting on his bed. “My turn to do your eyeliner” He says uncapping the pencil.

“Be careful ok I want to leave with both of my eyes intact ok” I say closing my eyes.

Rodrick starts putting the eyeliner on my eyelids while gently holding my cheeks and face still “there” he says as I open my eyes

His face is really close to mine and I can feel my face getting a little warm.

“It looks nice on you” Rodrick doesn’t let go of my face and instead slides his hands through my hair. I mimic him and tangle my fingers in his hair.

I close my eyes and lean in a little hoping he will close the space. And he does. His lips are sort of chapped and I can feel him breathing quickly out of his nose.

The kiss is gentle and sweet. It only lasts a few seconds before he pulls away. He looks at me and licks his lips. “Was that ok?” He says so quietly that I am surprised I heard him.

I smile at him and pull him in for a hug “I’ve never kissed anyone before…It was nice…really nice” I close my eyes and let myself enjoy the warmth of his body.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

You know Lea, I was having such a bad day at work yesterday and I just found myself daydreaming about your THUYW series and it honestly made my shift so much more bearable 😭💕

I couldn't help but fantasize about Billy + Frankie absolutely WRECKING Reader. It'd be SO delicious in this verse holy shit.

You seriously got me daydreaming about THUYW to cope with work WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME LEAAAA

a/n: AAHHH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!! i'm so sorry that work sucked, but omg, i'm so happy this slutty little au could help distract you ♡ but also omg i just gotta point out that gif i found?? that’s them. that’s frat!billy and frat!frank omg omg omg look at theeemmmm

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

okay, so, imagine Billy inviting you into his room while you’re waiting for Steve to get back from the boxing gym

then he leaves you alone for a second to go get you a glass of water

but as you wait for him to return, you spot something curious on his bedside table and it’s not till you’ve scooted closer that you realise it’s sex toys that he has just left laying around as if it wasn’t something utterly scandalous

I mean, the drawer is even open! It’s so stuffed full of toys that it almost can’t be pushed back closed!

but then when Billy does return, glass of water in his hand and now also his best buddy Frank at his side, your curiosity has gotten the best of you as they catch right when you had picked up one of the toys you weren’t sure what was.

you, of course, drop it immediately when you notice that they’re back, and as soon as it hits the ground, it turns on and starts buzzing against the floorboards. 

probably one of the top most embarrassing moments of your life at that point… 

but then, when they finally get their laughter under control (or maybe Frank is a total sweetheart about it and elbows Billy to quit teasing you) they fish out of you how you don’t really know what any of the toys are and it’s only because you recognised a few of them as dildoes (because your rich stepbrother bought you a few purely for slutty training purposes) that you realised they were objects of a sexual nature

so, naturally, they then treat it as a fun little teaching moment

they go through the whole drawer, one by one, first making you take a guess before they explain them all to you. 

now, Billy is a hoe, so his collection is stocked.

there’s everything from all sorts of dildoes (realistic, glass, cute curved ones, double-ended, fantastical monster ones), various vibrators (wands, rabbits, app-controlled, those amazing clit suction stimulators), butt plugs, fleshlights, all of the lube you could ever dream of, cock rings, nipple clamps, ben wa balls, paddles, whips, handcuffs, ropes, blindfolds, ballgags

and with each toy that they get through and explain to you, the worse the tingles between your thighs get…

do they end up trying a few of them on you?

of course they do!! 

though I think you’re still a bit of a scaredy cat at that time, so you don’t wanna be too adventurous yet

I’m thinking, in that moment, you’re the most curious about the vibrators because you’ve never played around with that before, and just feeling them switch one on against your fingertips makes your brain melt simply imagining what it would feel like against your pussy

when they do press it against your pretty clit for the first time, you nearly fall off of the bed from the way the unfamiliar and intense sensation makes you jump (which of course just makes them giggle because holy fuck you’re so adorable to them)

maybe they’re both laying on their stomachs, between your parted thighs, Frank holding the vibrator against your puffy pearl, grinning at the way it makes your pussy weep before them like a fucking leaky faucet to quench their thirsts

perhaps then Billy gets out some of the dildoes… one for him to play with your cunt and one for him to stuff in your mouth and watch you drool around… 

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[scvrgrl]

something stupid | trafalgar law x fem!reader

"i practice everyday to find some clever lines to say to make the meaning come true

but then i think i'll wait until the evening gets late, and i'm alone with you..."

word count: 4.1k

cw/tags: fem!/afab!reader, childhood best friend!law, modern!au/college!au, shifting perspectives, drinking and drunken confessions, brief mentions of smoking, big brother corazon mentioned!!, nothing wrong with a little game of truth or dare, contains suggestive content/smut (MDNI pls!), hardly proofread lol, inspired by something stupid - frank sinatra and nancy sinatra

a/n: hi!! yes, this is a reupload lol the layout was super wonky on my end and i wasn't sure if it looked like that for anyone else. so I just decided to reupload it so hopefully the issue is resolved! this fic was a request from @dindjarins1ut!! i had such an amazing time writing this so i hope you enjoy! 😽

you can find the original zoro's version that the request was based off of here!

"what are we in, middle school?" 

you proposed that the two of you play a little game of 'truth or dare' to avoid the pesky responsibilities of a college student. although, the two of you already had that covered as you pulled out a cheap bottle of tequila from underneath your bed, throwing back shots like you were playing a whole different game.  

"no, because every time i wanted to play when we were in middle school, you always chickened out!" 

Law, on the other hand, was far from amused. he always detested the idea of indulging in such juvenile pleasantries, mostly because they were a glorified version of peer pressure. these games made Law feel vulnerable, like purposely handing people a looking glass into his deepest and darkest secrets. which is also another reason why he hated truth or dare — he had a secret that would ruin his life if it got out.  

"do you really not want to play?" you asked, disappointment woven into your words. the alcohol caused your voice to drag, whining as Law crossed his strong arms across his chest. 

his expression feigned seriousness, but with your jutted lips and crossed arms, it became an act he struggled to keep up. Law pushed the laptop off his lap, setting it on the rug beside him, ultimately releasing a sigh that marked his surrender, "fine, but just this once."

over the years, he realized it was incredibly hard to say no to you. especially since you were so damn cute. 

you practically squealed from excitement, clapping your hands together as you cleared the space on the floor in front of you. the sounds of rustling papers and devices shutting filled the small space of your dorm room. you ripped an empty page from one of your many notebooks, laying it flat on the floor. a rainbow of colored pens and markers splashed across your rug as you drunkenly emptied the contents of your pencil pouch. 

your fingers made their way to the brand new sharpie marker, popping the cap off with your teeth as you marked the blank page with bold black lines — one straight down and another straight across, splitting the paper into four sections. each box was reserved for a TRUTH/DARE option, your handwriting more messy than usual thanks to the alcohol. 

Law gazed down at you from where he lay sprawled out on your floor, propping himself up on his elbows. his head tilted in confusion, admiring the way your tongue stuck out of your mouth in concentration. his eyes followed the hair draping over your shoulder, helplessly wandering to the arch of your back and the curve of your tits hovering over the ground. oh what he'd give to be that piece of paper.  

"i don't think that's how truth or dare works," Law suggested, a smile creeping across his face. you ignored his comment, however, continuing your task. after some time, you poked your head up, holding the page in front of you with pride. 

"we're gonna put our own little spin on it! it's gonna be a truth-or-dare-spin-the-bottle hybrid. is it not genius!?" you beamed, setting the page back down and grabbing one of the many half-empty water bottles from your desk. 

Law's grey eyes followed the spinning Kirkland's signature water bottle, his buzz morphing it into a fuzzy blob. it was in this moment he knew that he was in for a long night.

...

"okay, i dare you tooo...."

your finger tapped pensively on your chin as you came up with the perfect dare to present your best friend. however, you knew that your options were limited as you were A: stuck in your dorm room during your building's quiet hours, and B: too drunk to leave without getting caught by the RA. you also understood that Law wasn't exactly the type of person to willingly embarrass himself, no matter how much alcohol you pumped into his system.  

at this point in the night, you'd already exhausted nearly all the ridiculously fun dares. your favorite had been the "jungle juice," consisting of every drink rotting away in your mini fridge mixed with an old blue raspberry beatbox. Law had labeled it the "red solo cup of doom and despair", before hesitantly throwing it back. watching his face scrunch into pure disgust made you topple over, clenching your stomach as tears streamed down your face. Law, on the other hand, was far from amused, hovering over the trash can praying he wouldn't face the concoction again. 

the time between composing yourself and Law returning to his spot in front of you had warped together, your vision fuzzy and delayed. you hadn't expected yourself to get so wasted, yet here you two were, sneaking longing glances at your best friend. your heart raced as your eyes traced the outline of Law's exposed shoulders, the ribbed black wife beater clinging perfectly to his tanned skin. when did he take his shirt off?

Law must've felt your attitude shift, dropping his head lower to meet your gaze. "my eyes are up here," he teased, those gray pupils you'd grown to love dilated and pulsed with every beat of your heart. 

your breathing deepened as your mind raced. the alcohol heightened all five of your senses, the air inside the room suddenly thick and hot as a fierce blush colored your cheeks. before, you grimaced as you watched Law down the mystery drink, thanking every power above that you had thought of something so cruel before he did. but now? you wondered just how good that mixture would taste on his lips. 

"spin again." you ordered, rolling the bottle his way. the crinkled plastic stopped just before his folded knee, a confused look spreading across Law's face. 

"why? i literally just went! it's your turn, cheater," he argued, a frown tugging at his lips as he rolled it back. 

in truth, you'd only wanted him to spin again in hopes it landed on truth. you had spent countless sleepless nights anxious about your feelings toward Law, worried that if he didn't reciprocate your feelings, the relationship built upon trust and comfort would crumble to ruin. neither of you had an easy upbringing, yet you were able to find comfort in each other. sneaking away to the local park to play pirates had been your favorite escape. prior to meeting Law, you had feared the pole from the top of the slide, scared of falling and breaking your fragile bones. but once he taught you to overcome your fears, the two of you flew your imaginary Jolly Roger, claiming your territory at such a height to show off to the other kids. 

you clung to these memories as a life line, using them as an excuse to bite your tongue and hold every unrelenting emotion inside. Law's presence had been a constant in your life for as long as you could remember, and you were not about to let some stupid crush rip that away from you. however, your drunkenness began to override every ounce of sanity you might have had left prior to starting the game. the forbidden curiosity you had repressed over the years came bubbling up to the surface of your mind, your lips to fix themselves into betrayal. curiosity is one hell of a drug. 

you rolled the bottle back once more, a little more aggressively than you had anticipated. anxiety vibrated in your bones as you watched a quizzical expression bloom on his face, definitely catching on to your change in demeanor. 

"[y/n].. maybe we should call it—"

"spin." 

Law chewed the inside of his cheek anxiously before picking up the bottle slowly. he set it just as the two of you had for the past hour — smacked in the middle of the sheet and watching it spin as he awaited his fate. 

truth.

Law's shoulders hunched slightly, anxiety bubbling deep in his stomach. you had asked each other dumb and trivial questions throughout the night, like "where's the craziest place you've ever had sex" or "if you could do any of your professors, who would it be?" he had only hoped you'd continue in that direction, straying clear from anything that would— 

“what’s your biggest secret?" 

fuck.

"and before you say ‘but i’ve already told you everything,’ i’ve known you long enough to know you’re full of shit, Trafalgar.” 

"i don’t talk like that,” he deadpanned, voice trailing off timidly.  

soon after dismissing your mockery, the weight of your words hit him, and they hit hard. it was as if all the alcohol in his stomach had solidified, its sting searing into his intestines as his face flushed a bright crimson. Law adjusted his posture, shifting uncomfortably as he rested his back against the cool wood of your bed post. he fiddled with the hem of your bed skirt, twirling frills of off-white fabric between his tanned fingers as he attempted to come up with an excuse. 

the lump in his throat projected his voice silently, sounding much smaller than you had grown accustomed to, “but i have told you everything. i’m an open book.” 

you tilted your head down, peering at him through your dark lashes with an expression that read “yeah right”. he knew that you knew him better than anyone else; better than his older brother Cora, who had also adopted you under his wing growing up. and you knew that Law was the most reserved person you'd ever met, his stoicism and blunt attitude a defense mechanism.

your silence let Law know that you weren't budging, standing firmly on your request until you got the truth out of him. a part of you wondered if he ever felt the same way at some point in time, wondered if he felt the same way now. the initiation of the game had been calculated, a ploy to get yourself drunk enough to be bold and indirectly ask Law if your feelings were reciprocated.  

Law's gaze was fixed on the water bottle between the two of you, clinging to the sight of the still water to stabilize his racing heart. he released a shaky sigh, reaching for the tequila bottle and emptying his contents into his mouth. Law had never been a big drinker, babysitting the same drink during social events just to fit in. but right now, he understood alcohol's appeal, using it to wash away his uneasiness. 

"cmon it can't be that bad! you encouraged. "i've seen you say and do way more embarrassing shit, and i'm still here. even the time when you threw up at McDonalds, who was the one who helped you clean up?" 

Law winced at the memory, hoping that you had forgotten about it after all those years ago, "what does that have to do with anything?"

you huffed a laugh, shaking your head after realizing how ridiculous that must have sounded, "the point is i'm here for you, dammit! there's nothing you could do or say that would scare me away." 

Law felt himself smile. it was a small, intimate gesture that was shared between the two of you more often than not. sometimes it was all that needed to be said, one look that would convey more than thousands of words ever could. you were his rock, the one who he could rely when everyone turned against him. it had been that way since you were six years old — two little tikes against the world.

and in that moment, every one of his fears washed away. he knew that regardless of how you felt, he would always love you.

"i love you."

the silence that followed sent shivers down his spine, nausea creeping up his throat as he waited for your response. seconds passed like hours, Law's world spinning out of control as the chaotic thoughts flooded his head. he wanted to take it all back, wished he just kept his mouth shut and lied to you. lied and made something up that would get a laugh out of you. that beautiful, crazy laugh that made his stomach flip and heart flutter. the laugh he would give anything to hear over this silence. suffering in silence was better than suffering out loud, vulnerable and alone.

"like...you like me love me or sisterly-best friend love me?"

your question hit him like a splash of ice water, snapping him out of his thoughts. he knew you weren't so obtuse that you didn't know what he meant. Law rarely expressed his affection toward you, only giving you his warm embrace when it mattered, when you really needed him most. he understood that you would fulfill that role enough for the both of you; from planted sloppy kisses on his cheeks to get on his nerves, to tight hugs that invaded his personal space. so why were you acting like you had no idea what he was talking about?  

"are you really gonna make me spell it out for you, [y/n]? i'm in love with you. i always have been. ever since that day at the park, back when we stole some of Cora's weed."

the memory washed up to the forefront of your mind like a serene wave at sunset, warm and inviting. the two of you had been rummaging through Cora's drawers during your junior year of high school, being a couple of snot-nosed teenagers looking for trouble. Law knew his brother smoked and wanted to experiment — wanted to know what all the hype was about. and what better person to do it with than the person who made him feel most at home? 

you and Law got so unbelievably high that night, rolling the joint so sloppily that physical chunks of marijuana flew to the back of your throat. laying against the cool steel of slide's platform, you and Law held each other through it all, paranoid that the cops — or worse, Cora — would find you. it was that night that Law realized his feelings for you. he realized that there was no other person in the world that made him feel this way, that made him feel so safe. he knew that you'd never judge him, never see him as the weak child many believed him to be. Law could come to you after ripping out the hearts of hundreds of men, and you'd jump to the opportunity to help him bury every single one.

nothing could have prepared him for the way you leapt into his arms, limbs flailing as you tackled him to the ground. Law's joy quickly subsided as a sharp pain dug into the back of his head, realizing he had just made contact with your desk chair. you were now laying on his chest, eyes wild with excitement and concern. 

"oh my god, are you okay!?" you asked, running your hands through his jet black hair to find the injured spot. none of it mattered though, because all Law could feel was the euphoria that serged through his body. Law let out a hearty laugh, chest rising and falling as a bashful hand flew over his face. you watched the way his teeth glowed under the light of your desk lamp, his tanned skin a warm golden brown.

"yes, i'm okay! but i'd like an official answer more than anything before i throw up everywhere from embarrassment." 

his confession sobered you up immediately, your dwindling buzz gone in an instant. you pushed yourself off his chest gently, the firm muscle underneath that thin black fabric warm beneath your fingertips. rather than freeing him from underneath your weight, you planted yourself firmly on his lap, causing Law to release a small oomph. 

"do you know how long I've been in love with you, stupid ass?! like i'm talking years, Law, years!" 

Law chuckled at the sensation of your hand slapping his chest playfully. his hands gently made their way to your waist, tracing circles into the fold where your thighs and hips met.

"so..what now?" he asked shyly, his gray eyes tracing the outline of your figure. it would be a lie to say that Law hadn't fantasized about moments of you strapped on top of him, bucking your hips as you rode him long into the night. these thoughts left him feeling shameful, disgusted at himself for ever letting his mind to defile you.

"i think i have another fun game we could play..." you suggested coyly, your delicate hands trailing down his chest. Law's eyes traveled down to watch the way you palmed his chest, working your way lower until you reached the hem of his shirt. he released a quick breath, one he hadn't realized he had been holding. 

before he could tell you just how ready he was, your lips crashed into his, hungry and desperate. the kiss deepened quickly, hot and all consuming as you both attempted to make up for lost time. years of miscommunication and fear no longer mattered as it led you right to this moment, exactly where you wanted to be.   

you had been so eager to show Law what he was missing all this time, your hips mindlessly bucking and writhing against his thigh. heat and slick quickly pooled between your thighs, whimpers leaking into his mouth as you huffed them across his lips. Law's hands grabbed your ass firmly, slowing your rhythm into a halt. 

"not so fast, i wanna make you feel good," he said, pulling away from your lips. you whined at his sudden absence, the cold midnight air replacing Law's warmth. 

Law wrapped his arm around your waist, his biceps cushioning your back as he laid you down on the rug. his focus then shifted to your chest, nibbling and suckling at the soft skin of your breasts. the suction accompanied with hard teeth was enough to have your eyes rolling, playing with his hair as he made his mark. strings of hot saliva a bridge between you and his mouth, a swipe of his thumb the force to break it apart. Law's focus shifted to your hips, slipping his fingers underneath the waistband to peel off the soft fabric of your pj pants. the cool air nipped at the oozing heat of your cunt, your ruined panties hardly keeping you warm.

Law, however, tried his best to ignore the stain that grew between your legs, hands wandering across the soft skin of your thighs. he raised your leg to meet his face, trailing kisses that started at your knee to your ankle. without warning, Law slowly parted your knees, making space for himself between your thighs as his long and slender digits traveled closer and closer to your core. the warmth of his presence alone was enough to have your back arching, wishing he would close the gap. 

he denied you his touch for as long as he could, teasing you just like you had done to him all night. Law leaned down to kiss you, his weight hovering over you as his dainty gold chain dangled above your chest. your hands wandered down his torso, tugging the bottom of his shirt and blindly peeling it upwards. Law smiled against your lips, temporarily breaking the kiss to assist you. you had seen Law shirtless many times, never giving it much thought. but right now, all you could focus on was the firm abs that carved into his skin, wishing more than anything that you could feel them pressed up against you. 

Law’s lips trailed down to your jaw, humming sweet sounds against your hot skin. he sank lower and lower down your body, your cunt aching and begging for attention. once he reached the space between your legs, you couldn’t hold out for much longer. all you wanted was for Law to touch you, to explore you with his hands and his mouth. 

“Law, please,” you began, words breathless as you looked down at him. “I just want you to touch me. that’s all i want.” 

Law decided he’d had enough of the teasing, his cock jumping at your pleas. he never would’ve taken you for someone who would beg during sex, always such an assertive and independent woman. the realization caused a devilish grin to bloom across his face, right before he slid his fingers down to meet your core. your slick glided across them instantly, hot strings stuck to your panties as he peeled them to the side. 

“god you’re already so wet, do you really want me that bad?” he jested, subconsciously licking his lips into a deep maroon color. all you could do was nod, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of his mouth inched closer. 

without warning, Law’s tongue flicked a quick stripe up your leaking cunt, taking in your scent and taste. from there he explored every inch, every fold that resided there. your arousal bubbled deep in your stomach, hips bucking against is mouth as your breathing turned shallow. Law’s strong grip met your hips once more, pinning you to the ground. such a restriction made the sensation of his mouth on you increase tenfold, your eyes rolling to the back of your head so hard it hurt. 

the sweet sounds of your nectar lapping against his tongue filled the room, your moans not far behind. Law spoke words of praise directly into your core, jolts of electric pleasure shocking you with every syllable. 

“‘s so good- you’re so much better than i imagined.” he said, words muffled as he took you into his mouth. 

“fuck Law, please don’t stop! oh my god—“ you groaned, your moans going from sweet and sensual to primal and needy. you wanted to take him, all of him deep inside of you. “i need you inside me, please” 

Law released his suction from your swollen clit with a pop, the arousal coiling in your stomach on the verge of snapping. the absence of his warm mouth on your heat caused you to twitch, the slightest sensation causing you hips to buck involuntarily. Law fumbled with his belt buckle, the metal clasp releasing its leather strap in one smooth motion. he peeled off his black boxers, kicking them off to the corner of your room. your jaw shamelessly hung open as you gaped at the length before you. Law was much bigger than you anticipated, your gummy walls clenching in anticipation.  lining himself up with your slick entrance, Law slowly eased into you. 

"is that okay?" he panted, beads of sweat already sticking to his skin, causing him to glisten in the dim light.  

"yes," you nodded, a gentle hand reaching up to cup his jaw. your delicate fingers playing with the golden hoops that dangled from his ears. it was a habit you picked up during one of your hangouts, curiosity getting the better of you. 

...

"did they hurt?" Law had been resting his head on your lap, scrolling aimlessly through instagram on his phone.

"nah," he replied, eyes refusing to meet yours as a faint pink dusted his cheeks. you'd removed your hand, deciding that his answer satiated your curiosity. when he realized you had stopped playing with them, Law turned to face you, brows furrowed. "why did you stop? it felt good."  

...

you kept this information in your back pocket, now using it as a grounding sense of comfort in a sea of overwhelming pleasure. you never would've imagined that a casual bout of curiosity would transform into something so intimate and treasured. Law smiled at the gesture, kissing the palm of your hand sweetly. 

with that, he fully bottoms out inside you, knees buckling under the sensation of your hot slick gliding over his cock. Law's rhythm builds, easing in and out of your cunt as his hips grind into yours. sweet sounds of your moans mingling with his, slapping skin fill the room as his pace quickens. the sight of Law's face contorting above you made your stomach flip, trying his best to conceal his whimpers. you knew Law was experienced with hookups, experimenting with a few girls here and there since starting college. but the egotistical side of you wondered if any of them made Law feel nearly as good as you did. 

the both of you came at the same time, trembling limbs clutching to stabilize each other. fusions of sweat and arousal pooling in the space between your thighs, Law planting a small kiss on your forehead as he removes his length from inside of you. 

"can you admit that my game was genius now?" you teased, panting as you pulled your shirt back down over your exposed stomach. 

Law rolled his eyes teasingly, "go to hell."

this fic went on for so much longer than i originally planned but i got too excited lmfaooooo

[spacecowboyy0]

bucky barnes deserves baby reg reader!!!!

i completely agree!! i saw a tiktok of a mom who brought her kid to a martial arts gym so she could practice and her kid had a little set up in the corner and one comment said: “You watch Bluey while momma chokes the life outta someone, k pumpkin?” and i thought that was hilarious, so that's the inspo for this

notes: cg!bucky, cg!nat and reader live together but buck and nat are not in a relationship (i think they're both super gay)

~1k words

You enter the boxing gym on Bucky’s hip, head resting on his shoulder. A group of you planned to spar together in a gym that you have access to. Peter had saved the owner’s daughter from getting robbed one night and now he could use the gym whenever he wanted. At least once a month you, Peter, Natasha, Bucky, Matt, Frank and Wade (sometimes a few other vigilantes) sparred together. You had planned on sparring but when you woke up feeling smaller than usual, Bucky decided it would be best if you didn’t participate (you were a little disappointed but still happy to come). 

Matt, Frank and Peter are already there when the three of you arrive. Natasha trails behind Bucky, holding two gym bags and your backpack. You squeal when you see the others, slapping your hand against Bucky’s chest in excitement. He laughs and bounces you a bit before letting you down. You run to Peter and give him a big hug. 

“Hey Petey!”

“Hi bug! No sparring for you today?” 

“Nu uh, papa says ‘m too small.” You look beside him where Matt and Frank are watching the interaction. Matt greets you with a small wave and you give him a quick hug before turning your attention to Frank. You raise your arms, requesting to be picked up, and try to give him a convincing look. 

“Please Frankie?” He tries to keep his hard expression but everyone knows he has a soft spot for you anyway, so he lifts you into his arms. When you snuggle into him, he smiles a little bit, but enough for Peter, Matt, and Wade (who just came over) to notice. They give him teasing looks and Frank just rolls his eyes.

Natasha sets down your backpack, and pulls out a blanket to spread out beside it. Frank carries you over to your area, in a spot close to all the action. He places you down on the blanket and then hands you your sketchbook and markers from your bag. You smile up at him gratefully, and he gives you a pat on the head before heading towards the ring. Nat crouches down in front of you, a soft look on her face. 

“You sit here and watch mama kick these boy’s asses, alright pumpkin?”

“Yeah!”

They’re right over there, you can literally see all of them, and yet you feel left out and needy. Colouring inside the lines is too frustrating but you can’t let go enough to scribble like you want. You tear up, getting overwhelmed by your confusing emotions. As it happened, you are in the presence of people trained to be observant, so it doesn’t take long for someone to notice your tears. Nat is fighting Matt in the ring, so Wade nudges Bucky, who stands beside him as they watch the match.

“Buck, your kid’s crying.” Bucky looks over his shoulder to where you are on your blanket with wide, wet eyes, and your bottom lip wobbling. He jogs over to you, and carefully picks you up. 

“What’s up baby?” He looks concerned as he wipes your tears with his thumb and then softly brushes your hair out of your face. 

“I dunno, jus’ feel sad ‘n miss you.” 

“Aww kid, you can keep me company while I watch the others spar ok?” You nod, sniff, and rest your head on his shoulder. He makes sure you’re secure in the crook of his arm before rifling through your bag and grabs your pacifier. He taps it against your lips and you open your mouth slightly to accept it. He walks back over to the others who are watching by the sidelines, and you hear Peter coo when you get close. 

“We got a gym baby with us?”

Bucky bounces you a bit and then turns his body so you can see Peter. You look spaced out and cozy as you rest against Bucky. The group only stays about 10 minutes longer, and the whole time you’re attached to Bucky. 

When you get back to the apartment, you lie on the bed, waiting for Bucky to get out of the shower. You play with the ring on your pacifier and roll around on the duvet. You perk up when you hear the bathroom door open, and reach out for him as he comes out. 

“I’ll be right there cutie, let me get something quick.” You grumble and watch him as he walks over to the closet and pulls fabric out of a box. 

It was Bucky’s birthday recently and Peter gifted him a special fabric that he can use to carry you around the house. There hasn’t been an opportunity to try it yet, but you’re currently clingy and tiny, and dinner needs to be made, so it’s the perfect time. 

You watch with curiosity as Bucky wraps the fabric around his stomach and then pulls it over his shoulders. 

“Alright come here baby.” He reaches his hands out and you crawl over to him. He picks you up under your armpits and rests you against his chest. You’re squished against him so you can’t see what he’s doing but you feel the fabric wrap around you, making you nice and snug. You take a moment to shift around, getting used to the new position. 

Bucky watches as you wiggle a bit before closing your eyes and relaxing fully. When he walks into the kitchen, where Nat is chopping carrots, she coos when she sees you and pauses her cutting to brush her hand over your head lovingly. 

“We got a little snug bug hm?”

“I think we gotta get this soup started so this one can eat. That sound good baby?” With your eyes closed, you respond with a quiet “mhm” and Bucky kisses the top of your head. 

i've been meaning to write for bucky so thanks for the push anon!

[ribbitrabbot]

speculations

pairing : frank langdon x fem!resident

plot : you and frank have been friends for a long time , so much so that there’s always been a fleet of rumors circling you two . the rumors have never been without reason ; there’s always been sort of a shy tension between the two of you , but you’d never acted on it on the basis that dating between friends and coworkers has always been complicated . but a bad day at work seems to be enough for the both of you to finally acknowledge it .

warnings : uhh none that i can think of , just a bit of a spat with robby . just a bunch of sweet stuff , some fluff and comfort :3

a/n : frank’s not married in this ( idk if this is obvious or not , i’m just saying ) . this is my first x reader in a fat minute , i hope y’all like it !!

word count : 4.4k

“Besides,” You continue, braving the hot slice of pizza enough to gingerly pick it up, “If there’s any ‘next time’, Robby’s gonna kick my ass all the way around the block.” 

“No, he’s not.” Frank picks his own slice from the box, and you do little to hide your somewhat judgemental facial expression as he takes a bite from it, ice-cold. “You’re clearly the favorite. Unless you, I don’t know, kill someone, he’ll always let you off easy.” 

“Easy for you to say, you weren’t in here.” 

“Did he do the face?” 

“What face?” 

“You know, the face. The face he does so you know he’s really disappointed in you.” 

“Frank, I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” 

“Like this.” He says, dropping his piece down and then doing his best arms - crossed, head tilt, eyebrow raise Robby — an imitation that looks so stupid on Frank that you can’t help but laugh. You have to hand it to him, though. It’s a pretty accurate disappointed depiction.

The thing about hindsight is, is that it’s usually even more of a bitch than karma. Most people use hindsight to refer to obvious things — in hindsight, I wouldn’t have drunk that much, or in hindsight I wouldn’t have given that creep my number. Your hindsight was mostly about how much you should have listened to your gut screaming at you to call in sick this morning when you rolled out of bed and how stupid you were to ignore the dragging feeling on nights where you’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep. There was no reason for you to feel as crummy as you did; you’d worked in the pit long enough to at least try and shake the feelings away at the end of your shift, shower, eat whatever was left in your refrigerator, and turn on some show you’d already seen three times over. Maybe it wasn’t really healing, but it was enough to get by.

The adrenaline would fix you, anyway, it always did. Or at the very least you were hoping so. Maybe that was the real reason you’d picked emergency medicine as a specialty, besides the usual reasons of helping people, because you were half addicted to the rush of it all. But you were three hours into your shift, and not even the narrow rescue of four victims in a vehicle collision or being included in Perlah and Princess’ gossip had done much to raise your spirits. It must have been written all over your face, too, because it wasn’t just the interns who were tiptoeing around you like you were surrounded by eggshells.

“Mister Grant,” You sighed now, the very last your beside patience being damn near worn to a fray, “You need to understand how much this surgery could help Phoebe. Quite frankly, the longer we wait, the worse it could be for her.”

“But she doesn’t need the surgery right at this second. We can see if she gets any better.” The man insists. You can see the worry in his dark eyes, the entirety of his features aged by concern for his teenage daughter that had been brought in unresponsive by her friend. Any other day, you would feel more sympathetic for him; you would hold his hand and explain in painstaking detail why this procedure could be lifesaving. No parent wanted their child to be cut open needlessly, you can understand that, but today all his stubbornness does is grate on nerves you weren’t even aware of.

“I understand how upsetting this must be for you —“ You begin, a sentence from the nonexistent but universally known manual of Bedside 101, but his sudden anger cuts you off, his eyes flashing with accusation.

“Don’t give me that. All you doctors, it’s the same thing. You understand, you aren’t trying to upset me. You don’t understand. How could you possibly understand, you’re all trying to cut up my kid! Do you have a kid, Doctor? Can you honestly look me in the fucking eyes and say you understand? Fuck you.”

Your jaw ticks. You can see the emotion there, the fear, the need to find someone to lash out at. To blame. Everything in you is screaming to give him the benefit of the doubt, to chalk it up to a parent who sees tubes and wires sticking out of their whole world and immediately jumps to the worst possible conclusion. It’s not altogether an irrational reaction. Hell, if you were in his shoes, maybe you’d react the same way.

And then there’s the small voice within you that just manages to convince you that he’s an asshole. You shouldn’t listen to it. You shouldn’t. Had you been in a cartoon, it would have been the little devil whispering in your ear.

“Fine.” You say, with a sort of edged coolness that parents normally have when their children say something just a step too far. Your smile is tight lipped, and you wonder if your eyes flash with the barely restrained anger that you feel jumbling up inside of you. “Fine. I can tell that you, Mister Grant, clearly know more than me. It’s not like I’ve seen a dozen of these cases before. Hey, I’ve been to medical school, but you’re right. What do I know? I don’t have any kids.” You shrug sarcastically, then turn towards Donnie, who looked as though he was trying to walk past unnoticed. In fact, it looked like the entire radius in which you were speaking to Mr. Grant had suddenly turned into a danger zone. “Donnie, can you get Mister Grant any medical records he may need for Phoebe? And let O.R know — “

“Doctor L/n, can I consult with you?” The voice behind you stops your locomotive of orders dead. You turn just enough to acknowledge Robby, whose normally playful brown eyes have hardened to a coolness reserved for cocky interns and hardass superiors. But you’re surprised by the spike of annoyance that greets you, instead of any sort of remorse. The last thing you need is a chew - out from Robby, but there’s no avoiding it.

“Yeah. Fine.” You say curtly.

“Mister Grant, I’ll be back with you in a second, okay?” With a quick sentence, Robby confirms the trouble you’re in. ‘I’ll’, not your name or even we. He barely casts you a glance before turning on his heel, Mr. Grant still too stunned to even give a real reply. You pinch the bridge of your nose, tilting your head at the ground before sighing and following him.

You know the way to the break room, and even the looks that you’re getting as you follow Robby, even though you’re usually on the other side of them. The both of you are lucky it’s empty, and Robby almost slams the door behind him as he follows you in. You watch, biting the inside of your cheek as he tiredly rubs his face; you lean against the counter.

“Wanna tell me what the hell’s going on with you?” He asks, crossing his arms as he looks at you, head tilting.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve had a stick up your ass all day, so if I need to schedule OR to take it out, let me know.” Had he not been snippy, it would have been a better joke. Instead it makes you clench your teeth.

“I’m just tired.” It’s an excuse you’ve used a million times. Robby smiles and shakes his head.

“Oh, bullshit.” He’s right. You both know it. “You’re not the ‘just tired’ type, Y/n. You’re tired, take a walk. But you cannot talk to your patients like that.”

“Come on, Robby, you saw how that guy was acting. He was a fucking asshole!”

“It doesn’t matter, Y/n!” The laughter in his voice is stressed, dangerous. “You’re smarter than this. You’re tired, you’re stressed, take a walk, eat, do whatever you need to do. But you don’t lose your shit. Got it? Can you do that?”

You know it’s not personal. You know Robby has a thousand different things on his plate, that your temper is just another thing for him to worry about. That this is him keeping his own temper towards you — but it doesn’t make you feel any better. You want to feel angry at him, to only wallow in the hollowness that has haunted you since the day’s start. It makes his tone feel more patronizing than it normally would.

“Gee, I don’t know, that’s really hard, but I think I can handle it.” You sneer, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Robby looks at you, and for a moment you feel sorry. But before you can admit it, he gives a short sigh.

“Take a minute.” He’s out of the room before you can say anything else. Half of you wants to defy him, to stride out of the room and get back to work to prove a point. You don’t need Robby to put you in timeout, to punish you for acting the same way anyone would with the difficult Mr. Grant. Instead, you stare at the door he closed behind him, hands wandering up and pressing to your eyes after a long moment. The other half of you doesn’t care enough to prove a point. That half of you knows that it’s a losing fight, that if you go out there as hotheaded as you are right now, that it’s less a get back at Robby and more making everyone around you tense without reason. Maybe that would slide in any other sort of job, but the pit needed to work like a machine. No one could afford to be worrying about their coworkers when they already had worry enough with the patients that constantly came pouring into the door.

You’re just about to open the refrigerator to see what forgotten food you could raid when a knock snags your attention. You can’t place whether or not you hope it’s Robby or you hope it’s not, either way you scarcely bother to glance at the door before you call out.

“What?”

The door opens, but only some.

“Safe to come in?”

You’re unprepared for how welcome the familiar voice is, and it suddenly comes with a realization that you hadn’t heard it much at all today. You don’t bother to look behind you, but you answer.

“Whatever.”

Frank takes it as a yes. He closes the door gently behind him, then creeps up to look over your shoulder at the shelves of the refrigerator.

“Pizza’s probably your best bet. Unless you want to take your chance with yogurt that is either the same flavor or the same carton that was here in January.”

God, he’s so fucking annoying.

He’s close enough that his voice buzzes in your ear. Had anyone else done this, there was a very real possibility that you would have flipped your shit — someone with a lack of personal space would be a cherry on top of the shit show the last few minutes had already been. Instead, you try not to roll your eyes and slap your hand on top of the cardboard box.

“Move.” You order, and you can feel him back off from behind you. When you finally turn to face him, he’s already looking at you. His hands are tugging mindlessly at the stethoscope around his neck — you’d noticed a long time ago that he usually needed to be doing something with his hands. To ask him to sit still and do nothing for five minutes was as good as medieval torture. It was endearing most of the time, although a bouncing leg or a mindless tapping of his pen could get annoying. You don’t indulge him, instead you pull out a chair from the table and slap the cardboard box down.

Although you’re not in the most talkative of moods, you’re glad that he’s here. Truth be told, he was probably the only one you could handle being around at the moment.

You’d met him when you’d first started your residency at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical, not too long ago although it now felt like a lifetime. He’d been even cockier then, if that was even possible — a scrappy, difficult, smartass who had to learn things the rough way before he developed a begrudging admiration for Robby, which would later turn into a mutual bond. In those days, you remembered fondly, he often had unshaven stubble and a shadow under his eyes; those who didn’t know any better would think him a med student for all the time he spent here. You’d gotten along with him even then, even when people found his humor irritating and his doctoring methods questionable. Granted, the road had not always been smooth; there’d been a lot of banter in those early days. Well, maybe calling it banter was being a little too nice. Usually, he’d say something irritating, and you’d respond with something that would make him crack a smile of amusement. And other times he’d say something to make you laugh, genuinely, and he’d smile in response to that, too.

But the fun that came with the back and forth was only part of why the two of you had ultimately ended up being so close. Frank was smart, genuinely smart. Anyone, you’d learned, could memorize stuff from books and lectures and hours and hours of classes and tests, spit out the facts that they’d been forced to memorized like they were computers accessing files; and most did. But Frank knew people and because he knew people he knew his business. Most doctors you’d worked with diagnosed them and treated them like the print advised them to treat them. Frank would diagnose them and then treat them to get better whether it was textbook or not, and he did it in the span of a few seconds or the span of a few days. There was a genuine care that was veiled by the guise of a blunt sense of humor. Perhaps your ability to see past the veil was what had allowed you two to work so excellently together at the beginning, and later become a duo not unlike … well, whatever duo worked together really well.

“You’re a popular girl.” Frank murmurs, pulling a chair to sit, uninvited, next to you. You scoff and roll your eyes, fiddling with the pizza box as you try to decide whether you’re hungry or just upset. It’s unsurprising, the fact that the news of your flip - out on a patient’s concerned father has made the rounds so quickly. “Want me to try it first, make sure it’s not too moldy?” Frank asks after a beat, nodding towards the box. He’s worried, even if he’s trying to disguise it with a stupid tease. You can hear it in his tone. When you work with somebody almost every day, you get to tell what every single inflection means, every single pitch.

“You see me freak out?” You ask, turning your head as your rest your cheek in your hand.

“Uh, no, but you did that screeching thing you do when you get really mad.”

“Fuck you.” You have to try not to crack a smile. “I didn’t screech.”

It’s almost like just sitting in the room with him is relieving a tenseness you hadn’t even realized had been so heavy on you, like his voice was dusting a layer of soot away from your insides.

“Okay I wasn’t there, but Perlah said it got pretty ugly.” Frank drags the pizza box towards himself, then gets up with it, wandering over towards the microwave.

“Perlah said! Perlah’ll say anything if it’s good gossip.”

“Well, I gotta keep myself entertained somehow, and if you’re not gonna talk, Perlah’s my next best option.” Frank manages to find a plate to put what you imagine your slice, and you have to hand it to him — he’s got you backed into a corner where you have to answer.

“It wasn’t that bad.” You insist after a moment after Frank puts your pizza in to heat up, and then rotates to face you. “It’s just. Parents, you know. Sometimes they can be … “ you trail off as you search for the right word. “Irritating.”

“Stupid.” Frank agrees, giving the word that you were a little too nice to say outright. “I swear to God, I don’t know how some of them raise a whole person.”

“They’re raising a person that’s gonna end up with a bunch of disorders.” You joke, which pries a chuckle out of Frank as he pulls your food out of the microwave.

“When you flip your shit on a parent next time, can you make sure I’m there to watch? Or better yet, I’ll record it and then play it at your funeral in fifty years.” He puts the plate down in front of you, then sits back down with the box in front of him.

“You’re insane if you think you think you’re gonna be invited to my funeral. And I’m gonna outlive you anyway.” You smile. It’s strange thing to think of you two staying friends for so long, but then again it’s almost like you can’t even remember what it had been like when you didn’t see Frank most every day. You two were practically joined at the hip whenever you were on shift together, working together in sync the way doctors rarely did. It was no surprise that the rumors had begun to spark just a week or two after you two had just met. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was actually a monetary pool surrounding the idea if you two had actually slept together, considering that you’d been asked more than once if you two were an item. There were a thousand reasons to shoot it down — dating in the workplace, especially one where so much hinges on trust and teamwork, a fallout would be the last thing anyone needed. And you two had been friends for so long, there was the fear that anything more would ruin what you had already. But then again, there was the looks that lasted a little too long — the flirtations that lingered somewhere between a joke and the real thing that made you wonder if there could be something more.

“Besides,” You continue, braving the hot slice of pizza enough to gingerly pick it up, “If there’s any ‘next time’, Robby’s gonna kick my ass all the way around the block.”

“No, he’s not.” Frank picks his own slice from the box, and you do little to hide your somewhat judgmental facial expression as he takes a bite from it, ice-cold. “You’re clearly the favorite. Unless you, I don’t know, kill someone, he’ll always let you off easy.”

“Easy for you to say, you weren’t in here.”

“Did he do the face?”

“What face?”

“You know, the face. The face he does so you know he’s really disappointed in you.”

“Frank, I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Like this.” He says, dropping his piece down and then doing his best arms - crossed, head tilt, eyebrow raise Robby — an imitation that looks so stupid on Frank that you can’t help but laugh. You have to hand it to him, though. It’s a pretty accurate disappointed depiction.

“You’ve had a lot of experience with that?” You ask, unable to tamper down your grin as he smiles back at you.

“Absolutely more than my fair share.”

“Poor you.” You coo mockingly, and it’s his turn to roll his eyes as he chuckles.

A silence drifts over the both of you. Frank’s chuckle fades into a gentle smile as he observes you in a way that almost makes you nervous.

“You okay though? Seriously?” He asks, playful tone fading into something more genuine.

“Uh,” you shrug. “I dunno. Weird day.”

“Well it’s a slow day at the office. I can see if he’ll let you knock off early.” The fact that he’s willing to brave a likely already pissed off Robby for you is definitely sweet, and the offer of going home is enticing.

“I have patients.” You try to use that as

your excuse, but Frank is already shaking his head.

“I can take care of them, don’t sweat it.”

“You sure?”

“Look who you’re talking to.”

“Oh, I forgot. You’re Superman.” You mock, but Frank looks prideful at the obvious poke. “Nah, it’ll be okay. If you pick up my shift there’s bound to be speculation. More speculation.”

“What speculation?” He tries to play it off innocently, but you know better. The sly smile ticking across his features is enough to make you shake your head at him, tongue poking into your cheek to try and quell a matching smile.

“You know exactly what speculation, you’re too smart not too.” You remark like it’s supposed to be an insult, yet there’s a certain sort of softness to it as you look at him. The gesture, even if you had not taken up him on it, was an impossibly sweet one. Even if was a “slow day”, as Frank put it, that guaranteed nothing. It could be that things could pick up if you did leave, or that one of your patients could have difficulties, leaving him with a lot to juggle with his and yours. Not to mention the ruthless teasing that he would be sure to endure. You pick up the pizza slice — mostly cool by now — with the intention of finishing it off.

Frank watches you with the same gentle expression on his face as you do so. Had you been intent on going back home, he would have convinced Robby to let you — but then again, he knew you had the same sort of stubbornness that he did, and you weren’t likely to take him up on the offer even if there was cause for more concern. Had he thought there was something seriously wrong, he would have coaxed you into taking the day off. But just like you knew him, he knew you. He knew every tick of your face, what every inflection meant and every offhanded remark. He knew you the way he knew his own mind. There was no doubt in his mind that it was just one of those days; but even if you weren’t going home, he made a mental note to watch you for the rest of your shift, make sure you were really alright. After all, when Perlah had said something about your “flip - out”, he could feel the concern grip him like a rock in his stomach almost immediately. Dana had given him a knowing look when he’d asked where you were so he could check on you. You were right, he wasn’t taking a whole lot of care to avoid fanning any flames of speculation about the both of you; but it wasn’t like they were baseless, either. He cared about you so much it was almost stupid.

“Compliments will get you everywhere, my friend.” He returns with a cocky half smile that you were so familiar with as you turn put your plate in the sink behind you. For a break room, it sure is cramped if you don’t even have to stand up to do so. There’s another bout of silence as you look back at him. Even though he’s hidden it under a mask of light humor, you can still see the slight worry in his eyes. He wouldn’t have hung around this long if he genuinely didn’t want to make sure you would be alright. Again, there’s a slight pang in your chest — a momentary question of what if.

“Thanks for hanging out with me, though.” You say, trying to make it sound casual.

You can tell that the sudden genuineness catches him a little off guard. His cocky half smile fades into something almost unsure; his fingers tap at his knee like a nervous fidget.

“Yeah, you know,” he tries to shrug it off. “I’m around here. A lot. And I like you, so.” You blink, cock your head a little as he shakes his head, tries to reword his statement. “I mean, we’re friends. I wanna know you’re okay.”

Objectively you’ve never seen him so nervous, not even when Robby’s voice boomed across the pit in the tone he uses when he means business and not when the occasional patient, stunning, blonde, and, let’s face it, with a rack that would be the envy of almost any woman flirted shamelessly with him. He’s always been the picture of suave, knowing exactly which lines to say and how to look. But with you, he’s like a high - schooler on a first date. It’s like you disarm him completely — and the shyness seems to be catching.

Barely audible is his name on your lips. Perhaps you meant something to come after it other than the kiss that was maybe him or maybe you or maybe the both of you — almost timid at first and quickly something more intimate; something finally released that had too long been locked away behind harmless flirtations and barely disguised jokes, behind whispered rumors and the knowing looks the nurses and other doctors would give whenever the two of you would pass by, practically matching each other in your strides. Any trace of denial that you two had maintained for the years you’d been here was wiped away in the moment. When you finally pull away from him, your mind is spinning; but it’s almost like an invisible weight has been lifted from you, and you can’t help the subtle smile that plays across your expression.

“So.” He murmurs, practically against your lips still.

“So.”

“We should probably get back.”

“Probably.”

And then he kisses you again, quicker this time, something much more domestic, like he already could get used to kissing you in the days ahead, weeks … years? Yet he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. Even if it was hard not to.

You’re the one to get up first, considering that he’s still looking at you like you’re a muse of some sort. Whatever cloud had been hanging over your head, he had managed to whisk away completely.

“Come on.” You urge as you move to open the door, and with the instruction, it’s like he’s snapped out of some sort of reverie. He gets up out of his chair, wasting no time in following the command, and beats you to pulling open the door as if your kiss has turned him into some sort of gentleman.

“Doing anything tonight?” He asks softly as you fall in step with him, the two of you cautious to avoid any curious glances your way. You crack a grin at how quickly he gets to work, yet something about it is endearing.

“Besides sleeping?” You quirk, and you half expect him to make some lewd comment in reply, but he skips it.

“I have some excellent week - old Chinese food in my refrigerator.” He offers, and you snort and nod, taking a beat to try and come up with a satisfactory reply.

“Hard to turn down free food.” You finally come up with, and you can’t help but think that it’s cute that eyes seem to shine with hope. “We’ll see how this shift goes?”

“Heard.” He responds, before Whitaker snags his attention by calling out his name. As he strides towards the direction the voice came from, he turns on his heel to give you one last glance — one that is impossible not to grin at.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

How about: showing Frank Castle your new lingerie? It can be fluff, it can be smut, do with it what you please! <3

Spin For Me.

frank castle x female reader

warnings - allusions to sex. cursing.

valentines masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

“Keep your eyes closed, Frank. I’m serious.”

He’s grinning, both hands pressed to his face as proof. He’s sat on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently for you to come out of the bathroom.

“Come on, baby. Don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Good things come to those who wait!” you yell through the wood. Frank laughs, shaking his head.

You finally swing open the door, leaning against the frame with a hand on your hip. You take him in for a moment - the smile on his face, his relaxed stance, the way his sweatpants hug his thighs just right. Inhaling deeply, you clear your throat.

“Open ‘em, Frankie.”

Frank blinks in the lamplight, adjusting to the brightness. When his eyes land on you, his breath hitches in his throat. He rakes his gaze all the way down your body and back up again, slow and sticky sweet. His irises darken, lust blooming across his skin.

“Shit, baby.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Goddamn.”

You push yourself off the doorframe, standing up straight.

“Spin f’me.”

“Hmm?”

“Spin for me, baby. Let me see you.”

You twirl around gently, like a ballerina in a music box. When you stop in your place, Frank gestures with his finger for you to spin the other way.

It’s almost voyeuristic, the way he’s devouring you with his stare. You feel like predator and prey, in the moonlight of your bedroom.

“Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

The lace hugs your body exactly, every dip and curve accentuated. The colour compliments your skin perfectly, and your mind is running a mile a minute wondering what Frank is going to do to you first.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Frankie.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” he chuckles. “Yes it is.”

He stands up finally, making his way over to you. You’re waiting for him to twist his fingers into the material and rip, like he usually does. Instead, he runs his fingertips over the lace trim on your chest, gentle and featherlight. He dances his touch down your sides and onto the top of your underwear, playing with the band softly.

“Want you to keep it on,” he murmurs. “Wanna see this lace against your skin when I eat you out.”

You exhale shakily, nodding your head.

“Plus,” he whispers, leaning down to mouth at your ear. “This pretty thing gives me something to hold onto. Better grip when I fuck you into the mattress.”

You drop your head forward onto his chest, bare skin warm against your forehead. You can feel the way his lungs are heaving, just as buzzed on the anticipation as you are.

“You’ve given me a gift, honey. Now let me give you one.”

He drops to his knees in front of you. You’ve never seen anything prettier.

[therobbycuepitt]

Can you write a Frank Langdon blurb? I feel like he would be the type that if you worked together(like a nurse or Dr) and had a bad shift, the minute he had a chance he'd check on you even though he'd know you could handle it.

A bad shift and Frank comes in to save the day...

warnings: slight angst, death (not MCs), Frank trying to be cute and slightly cringe lol, no proofreading

A/N: I hope this was okay anon! I know its not exactly what you requested but hopefully its close enough. hehe sorry! 🙇🙇

The ground feels like sandpaper, the more you move over it, the more it grinds down a piece of you. It's like you actually see pieces of you crumble from your physical body and scatter like dust to every corner of the room. Sitting infront of the computer to start charting might help preoccupy your brain for a couple of minutes.

“You eaten yet?” a voice beside you brings you out of your daze. The thought of food shoots an uncomfortable feeling on your empty stomach. Seven hours in your shift and all you remember consuming was an apple smaller than your fist and two cups of shitty break room coffee.

“No, not really,” you mumble, reaching over the desk to drink from your insulated water bottle. Frank hums and looks back up at the boards above you before walking away.

You sigh and try to focus on the screen to type out your reports. The document stays blank for a few more minutes when a hand gently takes yours that was settled on top of the mouse, unmoving.

Your eyes slowly follow up the hand to Frank’s face who was holding sandwiches and juice boxes in his other hand. He nudges his head to the side for you to follow him. Your legs move on autopilot, trying not to drag your feet entering the stairwell. His hand never leaves yours, only letting it go once you’ve settled on the third step of the stairs.

“Thank you,” you say, accepting the sandwich from him and immediately unwrapping it to take a bite.

“Still thinking about them?” your last bite goes down a bit difficult down your throat. Frank is already passing you a juice box, straw already in before you could ask.

Your mind goes back to the two back to back codes that happened at the start of your shift. One of them was a young girl, still in. high school. A terrible victim of a hit and run. The next one was a single father who suffered a head injury trying to protect his daughter from falling debris when they were walking past a construction site.

Both of them coded in your care and anything you did couldn't bring them back. Robby tried to give you one of his encouraging talks, which you did appreciate but nothing could beat your mind when it went to dark places after a loss.

“Thanks… and uh, no. Why'd you ask?“ You could've lied better, but Frank already knew the truth.

“You're a terrible liar. You do know that, right?”

“And you're the worst at pep talks,” you chime back. Frank shakes his head as he chuckles and flashes you that dimpled smile, bumping your shoulder.

“Finish your sandwich, champ. We've got to get back on the court,” He stuffs his face and finishes his sandwich in four bites. He crumpled the foil wrapping and shot it towards a trash bin, sinking the shot clean.

“Nothin’ but air!” His ‘whoop!’ echoes through the stairwell along with your laughter. He cups his hands around his mouth to imitate a crowd cheering, making you laugh harder.

[favefandomimagines]

Holding Space (f.l)

Summary: Frank never thought he'd get the chance to see you again...but there you were

Request: "A fluff fic request for Frank Langdon where the reader and Frank dated in undergrad but mutually broke up before they each went to different med school. And only reconnect at PTMC, years into their retrospective residency but Frank thinks the reader is engaged even though she called off the wedding and is single"

AN: second chance romance is lowkey one of my fave tropes

The ER at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center was chaos in motion. Screams echoed down corridors, stretchers wheeled in with bloodied patients, monitors beeped like frantic birds, and the smell of antiseptic and adrenaline hung heavy in the air.

Dr. Frank Langdon stood in the middle of it all like he always did—steady, focused, slightly exhausted, and still somehow charming despite the circles under his eyes and the coffee stain on his lab coat.

He was mid-suture on a forehead laceration when he heard someone say, “Hey, Frank—you’re gonna want to meet our new senior resident.”

He looked up, half-expecting another stiff handshake from some overconfident Ivy League graduate.

But the minute he saw her, his hands froze.

Y/N. Her eyes locked with his, and in an instant, he was twenty again—back in undergrad, sitting on the quad, her laugh in his ear, their hands intertwined over textbooks and takeout boxes.

“Hey, Langdon,” she said softly, smiling like she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Long time.”

Frank swallowed. “Y/N.”

Their story had started back in sophomore year of college. Study buddies turned lovers, practically inseparable by senior year. But when med school acceptances came, they were on opposite coasts. They’d sat on a park bench and decided to break it off—mutual, mature, painful. It had been the right choice. Hadn’t it?

And now, here she was. Older. Sharper. Even more beautiful.

She was back.

And Frank Langdon was not okay.

||

Over the next few weeks, Frank tried to stay professional. Emphasis on “tried.”

He avoided lingering glances. He kept conversation work-related. He made damn sure to never be the one to initiate small talk. But it didn’t matter—his chest ached every time she walked into a room.

Everything she did reminded him of the past: how she chewed her pen when she was thinking, how she hummed when she was anxious, how her eyes still softened every time they made contact with his.

He knew she was engaged. He’d heard it from Dana, then confirmed it with some very casual—not creepy at all—scrolling through her Facebook. There it was: a photo of Y/N and some guy on a mountain trail, her hand raised, a modest ring glinting in the sun.

The caption said, “He asked. I said yes.”

That was posted last year. The comments were full of congratulations and hearts.

So why was she here now?

And more importantly, why did he feel like she was still looking at him the way she used to?

||

It was a Wednesday when it happened. A brutally long shift had ended in blood, tears, and an absurd number of abdominal pains that were probably just gas.

Frank was leaning against a locker, peeling off his scrubs, when Y/N stepped in.

“Frank?”

He looked up. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, her eyes tired but bright.

“Want to grab a drink?”

He blinked. “Now?”

“Unless you’ve got plans.”

He hesitated. He thought of her fiancé. Thought of the ring. Thought of how his heart had started racing the moment she walked into the ER that first day.

“…Sure,” he said.

They ended up at a low-key bar a few blocks from the hospital—one the residents frequented. They slid into a booth and ordered drinks. The conversation flowed like no time had passed.

They talked about school, about mutual friends, about the chaos of residency and the trauma of cadaver labs.

At one point, she laughed so hard at his story about a rogue raccoon in the hospital courtyard that she had to wipe away tears.

Frank felt seventeen emotions hit him all at once.

“So,” he said, trying to sound casual, “wedding coming up soon?”

She paused. “How did you know about that?”

Frank froze. “Uh—I mean, Dana mentioned—”

Y/N raised a brow.

He exhaled, rubbed the back of his neck. “…Okay. I might’ve stalked your Facebook a little.”

She smirked. “Frank Langdon, did you Facebook stalk me?”

“Maybe.”

The smile faded. Her voice softened. “I called it off.”

Frank blinked. “Wait. What?”

Y/N looked down at her drink. “We were planning the wedding, picking colors, writing vows. And all I kept thinking was that it wasn’t right. That no matter how much I cared about him… part of me still belonged to someone else.”

She met his eyes. “To you.”

Silence settled between them.

She continued, voice a little shaky. “When I saw you again, it just confirmed everything. I never stopped feeling it. But then I saw your ‘Daddy’ bracelet and figured… you moved on. Got married. Happy ending and all.”

Frank looked down at the black leather band on his wrist. The word “Daddy” was engraved on a small silver tag. Tanner, his four-year-old son, had picked it out for Father’s Day.

He took a deep breath. “I’m not married.”

She blinked. “But…”

“I got divorced last year,” he said, voice low. “We tried. We’re great parents, but not great partners. Honestly, we both knew… part of me had never let go of someone else.”

Y/N stared at him. “Me?”

Frank nodded.

She swallowed. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

The air between them crackled.

“Okay,” she whispered. “So… what do we do with this?”

He leaned in slightly. “Maybe… start over?”

She smiled. “I’d like that.”

||

Spring came to Pittsburgh, finally pushing winter’s gray away. Frank brought Tanner to the hospital for lunch one day, and Y/N met him in the courtyard.

Tanner took to her instantly—laughing at her silly jokes, asking her to chase him around the benches. Frank stood watching, heart full and aching at the same time.

Later that night, as they walked to the parking garage, Y/N slipped her hand into his.

“I was scared you’d moved on for good,” she said.

“I thought you did.”

She looked up at him. “I guess the universe just waited until we were both ready.”

He smiled. “I don’t want to waste any more time.”

“Me either.”

They kissed under the flickering garage light. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t fiery. It was steady. Warm. Familiar. Like coming home.

[writtenbymoonflower]

Hi! Can I please request a poly!Marauders x reader where the reader has a secret admirer? The reader is receiving anonymous gifts and letters, making the boys anxious and jealous. If not, it's okay! Thank you, author-san!

omg i love this! thank you so much, baby, hope this is okay! gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: jealousy and possessiveness, borderline harassment and stalking, hickey

1.1k words

You groaned loudly when you opened the front door only to be greeted by yet another bouquet of flowers. You begrudgingly brought the arrangement into the house, setting it on the countertop. 

"Again? That’s like the third this week, and it’s only Wednesday." Sirius said, exasperated and (almost) as annoyed as you. 

"Fifth, actually." You hated that you were complaining, you knew you were technically very lucky to receive all these gifts, it was just distressing. And to be frank, getting very old.

"Christ, this person is thirsty." Sirius’ voice was strained, clearly more anxious than he was wanting to let on. 

"At least it seems they don’t have much of a chance, anyone worth their salt knows that you hate roses, angel." James said, between mouthfuls of his sandwich. 

"I know," You cringed. "Who should I give these to this time? Lily has enough flowers to open a shop" You rolled your eyes. "Speaking of," You reached into your work bag and pulled out two boxes. "There were chocolates at my work when I got there yesterday, and a pair of earrings on monday." You walked over to where Remus and Sirius were cuddled on the couch. 

“Geez, dove. Are we gonna have to step up our game?” Remus said, voice tinged with jealousy. 

"No, this person needs to step down. Or at least give me a return address or something. All the notes say is ‘from someone who appreciates you, xx.’ It’s actually kind of distressing." You handed the smaller box of earrings to Sirius, "Are these your style, honey?" 

"What? You don’t want them?" He sounded surprised. Of course you didn’t! Why would you need presents from a random person when you have three boys who give you all the love you could ever need? (and in the way you like it)

"No, I would feel weird wearing them." You cringed, handing the larger box to Remus. "You can have these, I don’t even like cherry chocolate." Remus took the box like it was filled with poison, a disgusted tilt to his lips, just as Sirius dramatically dropped the jewelry box onto the coffee table. 

"I don’t know whose grubby paws have been on this box." He sneered. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, looking over to James who was still in the kitchen. He had set his sandwich down and was looking like a kicked puppy. It made your heart crack.

"Jamie, what’s wrong baby? Come here." You beckoned him over. He rushed to your side, placing his hand protectively on your shoulder and gripping you tight. You looked at your other two boyfriends, Remus’ jaw was clenched tight and Srius was still looking at the box and scowling. 

"I jus’ don’t like it." James said from your side, his voice was small like a child's. 

"Wait, hold on," You said, "Are you all actually worried about this?"

"Define ‘worried’ lovely," Remus said, his voice an awful mix of venomous and depressed. “I don’t think any of us like knowing there’s someone out there fighting for your affections.” His eyes had an angry glint to them. 

“Guys,” You said, your heart only breaking further. “You have nothing to be worried about, okay?” James’ grip tightened on you. “There is absolutely no competition here, I’m not even giving these the time of day. I don’t want anything to do with the gifts or the person sending them.” 

“But you would if we weren’t in the picture.” Sirius said quietly, all too insecure for your liking. You wormed your way out of James’ grasp, resulting in a whine being pulled from his throat, to crouch in front of Sirius. You grabbed his pretty face in your hands, looking into his sad eyes. 

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m not impressed by these gifts.” You took a deep breath, not wanting to confess the next part and worry your boyfriends worse. “They actually kind of scare me.” You admitted, making all their eyes snap to you. 

“Scared? Of what, darlin’?” James piped up. 

“I just,” You cringed. “I don’t like knowing that there is someone this obsessed with me and I don’t know who they are. And that they know where I live and where I work. I mean, who knows how much they know?” 

“Well now I feel like an arse.” Sirius grabbed you from the floor and hauled you onto the couch with him and Remus, wrapping himself tightly around you. “Here I was thinking this person was gonna get you away from us, not knowing they were worrying you.” 

“You’re not, I promise!” You reassured. “Honestly, if there was someone doing all this for you three I would be really jealous too.” You placed a hand on two of your boyfriends’ thighs, looking over at James, who was still sulking, now sitting on the coffee table in front of you. “But I can assure you, even if I found out who this person was, they, and no one else, would be able to take me from you three. You aren’t getting rid of me that easy. Besides, I don’t like stalkers.” You joked. 

Remus pulled you closer to him, gentle but still much more aggressive than usual. Your other two boyfriends had settled, but he was still heated. 

“Remmy,” You turned to face him. “I promise, you have nothing to worry about.” 

“I know,” He grunted, burying his face into your neck. You wanted to shrink at the ticklish feeling but you allowed him to stay there, knowing he needed it. Remus had a jealous streak, perhaps the most of all your boyfriends. James and Sirius were more subtle in their protectiveness, but Remus started marking you all like a wolf anytime someone let their gaze linger too long. You buried your fingers in his hair and scratched his scalp, trying to relax him. 

“As soon as I find out who this is I will get them to stop, I promise.” You said vehemently. You looked guiltily at all your boyfriends, “I’m sorry this is happening, it isn’t fair to you all.” 

“It’s not your fault, dolly.” Sirius placed his hand on your back. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, you aren’t asking for this.” You were about to hug him, but Remus held fast around your waist, you started to protest, but you felt Remus’ lips latch to a spot on your neck, nibbling and sucking hard enough to sting, but not hurt. The sound you let out was half giggle and half moan.

“Christ, Moons!” James barked, “You trying to brand them or something?” The three of you started giggling like children. Remus released your skin from his teeth, observing the red and purple splotch that was left in his wake. 

“Gotta make sure they know what’s mine.” He said, possessively. “Don’t worry," His eyes glinted furiously at your two other boyfriends, "you two are next.”